And that which Fate exults to bear:
The Trident dart which slaughters foes,
And that which hanging skulls compose:[233]
These fearful darts in fiery rain
He hurled upon the saint amain,
An awful miracle to view.
But as the ceaseless tempest flew,
The sage with wand of God-sent power
Still swallowed up that fiery shower.
Then Gádhi's son, when these had failed,