And bring those herbs to save us now.”
Hanúmán heard, and springing through
The air like Vishṇu's discus[991] flew.
The sea was passed: beneath him, gay
With bright-winged birds, the mountains lay,
And brook and lake and lonely glen,
And fertile lands with toiling men.
On, on he sped: before him rose
The mansion of perennial snows.
There soared the glorious peaks as fair