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Forward on his road he fares.When he sees, though strange it may be,

She to-day at dawn of morningPraying comes to Ganges' waters,Bends her o'er the glassy surface--Sudden, in the waves reflected,Flying swiftly far above her,From the highest heavens descending,She discerns the beauteous formOf a youth divine, createdBy the God's primeval wisdomIn his own eternal breast.