Canto XLVII.Sumati. Thus to Lord Indra,Thousand-eyed, Softly beseeching Diti sighed. When but a blighted bud was left, Which Indra's hand in seven had cleft:213 “No fault,O Lord of Gods,is thine; The blame herein is only mine. But for one grace I fain would pray, As thou hast reft this hope away. This bud,O Indra,which a blight Has withered ere it saw the light— From this may seven fair spirits rise To rule the regions of the skies. Be theirs through heaven's unbounded space On shoulders of the winds to race, My children,drest in heavenly forms, Far-famed as Maruts,Gods of storms.