Upon the prince, and with the perfect ones,
The sages, and the gods, anointed him
"Son of the mighty king." Then all the throng--
The king, his wife, his son, his followers--
Filled with rejoicing and delight, ascend
To heaven, surrounding, as they go, the king
Borne in his chariot. He, too, filled with joy--
The mighty father, who eternal bliss
Both for his people and himself had gained,
Once more in form and mien a king--reposed,
Resting from all his toils, his faithful friends
Surrounding him with a protecting wall.
And Indra spoke and said: "Upon this earth
Great Harischandra's equal has not been
Nor shall be. Whosoe'er may hear his life,
His toils, his sorrows, and in sympathy
For him lament, transcendant happiness
Shall he attain, and all his heart's desire
Shall be accomplished. Is his prayer a wife,
Or son, or kingdom, he shall gain them all,
E'en heaven itself. And he who imitates
The truth, and steadfastness, of that great king,
Like him shall enter everlasting rest.