“King Daśaratha,” thus cried they,

“Fervent in penance many a day,

The sacrificial steed has slain,

Longing for sons, but all in vain.

Now, at the cry of us forlorn,

Incarnate as his seed be born.

Three queens has he: each lovely dame

Like Beauty, Modesty, or Fame.

Divide thyself in four, and be

His offspring by these noble three.