Forth flashing from her sister's arms,
High heaven's daughter, now is come.

In rosy garments, shining like
A swift bay mare; the twin knights' friend,
Mother of all our herds of kine.

Yea, thou art she, the horseman's friend;
Of grazing cattle mother thou,
All wealth is thine, thou blushing dawn.

Thou who hast driven the foeman back,
With praise we call on thee to wake
In tender reverence, beauteous one.

The spreading beams of morning light
Are countless as our hosts of kine,
They fill the atmosphere of space.

Filling the sky, thou openedst wide
The gates of night, thou glorious dawn--
Rejoicing-run thy daily race!

The heaven above thy rays have filled,
The broad belovèd room of air,
O splendid, brightest maid of morn!

I went indoors again to attend to my correspondence, and presently a
gorgeously liveried white-bearded _chuprassie_ appeared at the door, and
bending low as he touched his hand to his forehead, intimated that "if