Vivaswata's son, a raja—and a sage of mighty fame,
King of men, the first great fathers—in his glory equalled he,
In his might and kingly power—Manu, and in earthly bliss,
And in wonder-working penance—sire and grandsire far surpassed.
With his arms on high outstretching—wrought the sovereign of men,
Steadily on one foot standing—penance rigorous and dread,
With his downward head low-drooping—with his fixed, unwavering eyes,
Dreed he thus his awful penance—many a long and weary year.
To the penitent with tresses—streaming loose, and wet, and long,
By the margin of Wirini—thus the fish began to speak:
"Blessed! lo, the least of fishes—of the mighty fish in dread,
Wilt thou not from death preserve me—thou that all thy vows fulfill'st?
Since the strongest of the fishes—persecute the weaker still,
Over us impends for ever—our inevitable fate.
Ere I sink, if thou wilt free me—from th' extremity of dread,
Meet return can I compensate—when the holy deed is done."
Speaking thus the fish when heard he—full of pity all his heart,
In his hand that fish king Manu—son of Vivaswata took.
Brought the son of Vivaswata—to the river shore the fish,
Cast it in a crystal vessel—like the moonshine clear and bright.
"Rapid grew that fish, O raja—tended with such duteous care,
Cleaved to him the heart of Manu—as to a beloved son.
Time rolled on, and larger, larger—ever waxed that wonderous fish,
Nor within that crystal vessel—found he longer space to move."
Spake again the fish to Manu—as he saw him, thus he spake:
"O all prosperous! O all gentle!—bring me to another place."
Then the fish from out the vessel—blessed Manu took again;
And with gentle speed he bare him,—Manu, to a spacious lake.
There the conqueror of cities,—mighty Manu, cast him in.
Still he grew, that fish so wondrous—many a circling round of years.
Three miles long that lake expanded—and a single mile its breadth,
Yet that fish with eyes like lotus—there no longer might endure;
Nor, O sovereign of the Vaisyas!—might that lake his bulk contain.
Spake again that fish to Manu—as he saw him, thus he spake:
"Bring me now, O blest and holy!—to the Ganga, ocean's bride,
Let me dwell in her wide waters—yet, O loved one, as thou wilt,
Be it so; whate'er thy bidding,—murmur would beseem me ill,
Since through thee, O blest and blameless!—to this wondrous bulk I've grown."
Thus addressed, the happy Manu—took again the fish, and bore
To the sacred stream of Ganga—and himself he cast him in.
Still it grew, as time rolled onward—tamer of thy foes! that fish.
Spake again that fish to Manu—as he saw him, thus he spake:
"Mightiest! I can dwell no longer—here in Ganga's narrow stream;
Best of men! once more befriend me—bear me to the ocean swift."
Manu's self from Ganga's water—took again that wondrous fish,
And he brought him to the ocean,—with his own hand cast him in.
Brought by Manu to the ocean—very large that fish appeared,
But not yet of form unmeasured,—spread delicious odours round.
But that fish by kingly Manu—cast into the ocean wide,
In these words again bespake him—and he smiled as thus he spake:
"Blessed! thou hast still preserved me—still my every wish fulfilled,
When the awful time approaches—hear from me what thou must do.
In a little time, O blessed!—all this firm and seated earth,
All that moves upon its surface—shall a deluge sweep away.
Near it comes, of all creation—the ablution day is near;
Therefore what I now forewarn thee—may thy highest weal secure.
All the fixed and all the moving—all that stirs, or stirreth not,
Lo, of all the time approaches—the tremendous time of doom.
Build thyself a ship, O Manu—strong, with cables well prepared,
And thyself, with the seven Sages—mighty Manu enter in.
All the living seeds of all things—by the Brahmins named of yore,
Place thou first within thy vessel—well secured, divided well.
From thy ship keep watch, O hermit—watch for me, as I draw near;
Horned shall I swim before thee—by my horn thou'lt know me well.
This the work thou must accomplish,—I depart; so fare thee well—
Over these tumultuous waters—none without mine aid can sail.
Doubt thou not, O lofty minded!—of my warning speech the truth."
To the fish thus answered Manu—"All that thou requir'st, I'll do."
Thus they parted, of each other—mutual leave when they had ta'en,
Manu, raja! to accomplish—all to him the fish had said.
Taking first the seeds of all things—launched he forth upon the sea;
On the billowy sea, the prudent—in a beauteous vessel rode.
Manu of the fish bethought him;—conscious of his thought the fish,
Conqueror of hostile cities!—with his horn came floating by.
King of men, the born of Manu!—Manu saw the sea-borne fish,
In his form foreshewn, the horned—like a mountain huge and high.
To the fish's head his cable, Manu bound—O king of men!
Strong and firm his cable wound he—round and round on either horn:
And the fish, all conquering raja!—with that twisted cable bound,
With the utmost speed that vessel—dragged along the ocean tide.
In his bark along the ocean—boldly went the king of men:
Dancing with the tumbling billows—dashing through the roaring spray,
Tossed about by winds tumultuous—in the vast and heaving sea,
Like a trembling, drunken woman—reeled that ship, O king of men.
Earth was seen no more, no region—nor the intermediate space;
All around a waste of water—water all, and air and sky.
In the whole world of creation—princely son of Bharata!
None was seen but those seven Sages—Manu only, and the fish.
Years on years, and still unwearied—drew that fish the bark along,
Till at length it came, where lifted—Himavan its loftiest peak.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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