Canto LIII. Visvámitra's Request. Thus charged,O slayer of thy foes, The cow from whom all plenty flows, Obedient to her saintly lord, Viands to suit each taste,outpoured. Honey she gave,and roasted grain, Mead sweet with flowers,and sugar-cane. Each beverage of flavour rare, An food of every sort,were there: Hills of hot rice,and sweetened cakes, And curdled milk and soup in lakes. Vast beakers foaming to the brim With sugared drink prepared for him, And dainty sweetmeats,deftly made, Before the hermit's guests were laid. So well regaled,so nobly fed, The mighty army banqueted, And all the train,from chief to least, Delighted