With Yavans, troubled, flee and fall.
Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.
So o'er the field that host lay strown,
By Viśvámitra's darts o'erthrown.
Then thus Vaśishṭha charged the cow:
“Create with all thy vigour now.”
Forth sprang Kámbojas, as she lowed;
Bright as the sun their faces glowed,
Forth from her udder Barbars poured,—