chance, a pair of doves come flying along the sky, under the
hero’s very eyes, and settle on the turf at his feet. At once
the mighty chief recognizes his mother’s birds, and gladly
breathes a second prayer: “Oh guide us on our way, wherever
it be, and as ye fly direct our steps into the grove 5
where the precious branch casts its shade on the rich
ground! Thou too forsake not our perplexity, O goddess
mother!” Thus much he said, and checked his advancing
foot, watching to see what prognostics they bring, whither
they aim their onward course. They, as they graze, go 10