The Crown of Raghu’s race, Ýr¶ RŒma, joined both His palms and cheerfully bowed His head at His mother’s feet. She blessed Him and clasped Him to her bosom and scattered jewels and raiment around Him (in order to protect Him from evil). The mother kissed His lips again and again with tears of affection in her eyes and her limbs thrilling over with joy. Seating Him in her lap she pressed Him once more to her heart, while milk flowed from her graceful breasts due to excess of love. Her affection and joy were altogether beyond description; it seemed as if a pauper had attained the position of Kubera (the god of riches). Fondly regarding His lovely countenance the mother spoke to Him in endearing terms; “Tell me, dear child—I beseech you;—when will be that delightful and auspicious hour, the beautiful culmination of piety, virtue and joy and the highest reward of human birth,—” (1—4)