The parting sun has ceased to glow.
No captain now for conquest burns,
But homeward with his host returns;
For roads and kings' ambitious dreams
Have vanished neath descending streams.
This is the watery month[623] wherein
The Sámar's[624] sacred chants begin.
Áshádha[625] past, now Kośal's lord[626]
The harvest of the spring has stored,[627]
And dwells within his palace freed