Canto LIX. The Sons Of Vasishtha. Then Kuśik's son,by pity warmed, Spoke sweetly to the king transformed: “Hail!glory of Ikshváku's line: I know how bright thy virtues shine. Dismiss thy fear,O noblest Chief, For I myself will bring relief. The holiest saints will I invite To celebrate thy purposed rite: So shall thy vow,O King,succeed, And from thy cares shalt thou be freed. Thou in the form which now thou hast, Transfigured by the curse they cast,— Yea,in the body,King,shalt flee, Transported,where thou fain wouldst be. O Lord of men,I ween that thou Hast heaven within thy hand e'en now,