Verse 42

³⁷Just then the Bhagavan whose navel is a lotus, dear to the noble, knowing that his own had gone past the bounds against the good, came there with Sri, moving those feet that the great sages who are highest swans go looking for. ³⁸They saw him come, an object now for their eyes, he who is the good fortune of their own gathered stillness, with his own people carrying what belongs to his welcome, two fans lovely as swans, and a white parasol like the moon shaking loose its spray of water in the kindly wind. ³⁹His face kind with a grace meant for everyone, touching them in the heart with a shred of a loving look out of a form to be longed for; and on his dark broad chest, where Sri was shining, he seemed to be making lovely the crest-jewel of heaven that is his own place.

⁴⁰In yellow cloth on his broad hips, a girdle flashing there, and a forest garland loud with bees; a fine bracelet on his forearm, one hand laid on the shoulder of Vinata's son and the other twirling a lotus. ⁴¹His face throwing back lightning, its cheeks fit to be set off by the sea-monster earrings, its nose lifted; his crown set with jewels; a necklace beyond price taking the eye in the gap between the thicket of his staff-like arms, and the Kaustubha at his throat. ⁴²And a body that seemed to say that here the proud smile of Indira is outdone, richly made by the mind of his own people, that gives itself to me and to Bhava and to you: they looked and bowed their heads in joy, and their eyes were not filled with the looking.