That thy good gifts such love inspire
And win the favour of thy sire.
With thee I travailed not in vain;
Those lotus eyes reward my pain,
And all the glory of the line
Of old Ikshváku will be thine.”
He smiled, and on his brother gazed
Who sate with reverent hands upraised,
And said: “My brother, thou must be
Joint-ruler of this land with me.