Canto LXIII. Menaká. A thousand years had thus flown by When all the Gods within the sky, Eager that he the fruit might gain Of fervent rite and holy pain, Approached the great ascetic,now Bathed after toil and ended vow. Then Brahmáspeaking for the rest With sweetest words the sage addressed: “Hail,Saint!This high and holy name Thy rites have won,thy merits claim.” Thus spoke the Lord whom Gods revere, And sought again his heavenly sphere. But Viśvámitra,more intent, His mind to sterner penance bent. So many a season rolled away, When Menaká,fair nymph,one day Came down from Paradise to lave