A lotus in her perfect hand,
And fondly, of the lotus-sprung,
To lotus-bearing Vishṇu clung.
Her Gods above and men below
As Beauty's Queen and Fortune know.[210]
Gods, Titans, and the minstrel train
Still churned and wrought the troubled main.
At length the prize so madly sought,
The Amrit, to their sight was brought.
For the rich spoil, 'twixt these and those