Canto LXII. Ambarísha's Sacrifice. As thus the king that youth conveyed, His weary steeds at length he stayed At height of noon their rest to take Upon the bank of Pushkar's lake. There while the king enjoyed repose The captiveŚunahśepha rose, And hasting to the water's side His uncle Viśvámitra spied, With many a hermit'neath the trees Engaged in stern austerities. Distracted with the toil and thirst, With woeful mien,away he burst, Swift to the hermit's breast he flew, And weeping thus began to sue: “No sire have I,no mother dear, No kith or kin my heart to cheer: As