The hermit ceased: the princely two With seemly honours bade adieu: With reverential awe each youth Bowed to the saint whose word was truth, And then, dismissed with Sita, they To Panchavati took their way. Thus when each royal prince had grasped His warrior's mighty bow, and clasped His quiver to his side, With watchful eyes along the road The glorious saint Agastya showed, Dauntless in fight the brothers strode, And Sita with them hied.



Canto XIV. Jatayus.

Then as the son of Raghu made His way to Panchavati's shade, A mighty vulture he beheld Of size and strength unparalleled. The princes, when the bird they saw, Approached with reverence and awe, And as his giant form they eyed, "Tell who thou art," in wonder cried. The bird, as though their hearts to gain, Addressed them thus in gentlest strain; "In me, dear sons, the friend behold Your royal father loved of old."

He spoke: nor long did Rama wait His sire's dear friend to venerate: He bade the bird declare his name And the high race of which he came. When Raghu's son had spoken, he Declared his name and pedigree, His words prolonging to disclose How all the things that be arose:

"List while I tell, O Raghu's son, The first-born Fathers, one by one, Great Lords of Life, whence all in earth And all in heaven derive their birth. First Kardam heads the glorious race Where Vikrit holds the second place, With Sesha, Sansray next in line, And Bahuputra's might divine. Then Sthanu and Marichi came, Atri, and Kratu's forceful frame. Pulastya followed, next to him Angiras' name shall ne'er be dim. Prachetas, Pulah next, and then Daksha, Vivasvat praised of men: Arishtanemi next, and last Kasyap in glory unsurpassed. From Daksha,—fame the tale has told—: Three-score bright daughters sprang of old. Of these fair-waisted nymphs the great Lord Kasyap sought and wedded eight, Aditi, Diti, Kalaka, Tamra, Danu, and Anala, And Krodhavasa swift to ire, And Manu(443) glorious as her sire. Then when the mighty Kasyap cried Delighted to each tender bride: "Sons shalt thou bear, to rule the three Great worlds, in might resembling me." Aditi, Diti, and Danu Obeyed his will as consorts true, And Kalaka; but all the rest Refused to hear their lord's behest. First Aditi conceived, and she, Mother of thirty Gods and three, The Vasus and Adityas bare, Rudras, and Asvins, heavenly pair. Of Diti sprang the Daityas: fame Delights to laud their ancient name. In days of yore their empire dread O'er earth and woods and ocean spread. Danu was mother of a child, O hero, Asvagriva styled, And Narak next and Kalak came Of Kalaka, celestial dame. Of Tamra, too, five daughters bright In deathless glory sprang to light. Ennobling fame still keeps alive The titles of the lovely five: Immortal honour still she claims For Kraunchi, Bhasi, Syeni's names. And wills not that the world forget Suki or Dhritarashtri yet. Then Kraunchi bare the crane and owl, And Bhasi tribes of water fowl: Vultures and hawks that race through air With storm-fleet pinions Syeni bare. All swans and geese on mere and brook Their birth from Dhritarashtri took, And all the river-haunting brood Of ducks, a countless multitude. From Suki Nala sprang, who bare Dame Vinata surpassing fair. From fiery Krodhavasa, ten Bright daughters sprang, O King of men: Mrigi and Mrigamanda named, Hari and Bhadramada famed, Sarduli, Sveta fair to see, Matangi bright, and Surabhi, Surasa marked with each fair sign, And Kadruma, all maids divine. Mrigi, O Prince without a peer, Was mother of the herds of deer, The bear, the yak, the mountain roe Their birth to Mrigamanda owe; And Bhadramada joyed to be Mother of fair Iravati, Who bare Airavat,(444) huge of mould, Mid warders of the earth enrolled, From Hari lordly lions trace, With monkeys of the wild, their race. From the great dame Sarduli styled Sprung pards, Langurs,(445) and tigers wild. Matangi, Prince, gave birth to all Matangas, elephants strong and tall, And Sveta bore the beasts who stand One at each wind, earth's warder band.(446) Next Surabhi the Goddess bore Two heavenly maids, O Prince, of yore, Gandharvi—dear to fame is she— And her sweet sister Rohini. With kine this daughter filled each mead, And bright Gandharvi bore the steed.(447) Surasa bore the serpents:(448) all The snakes Kadru their mother call. Then Manu, high-souled Kasyap's(449) wife, To all the race of men gave life, The Brahmans first, the Kshatriya caste, Then Vaisyas, and the Sudras last. Sprang from her mouth the Brahman race; Her chest the Kshatriyas' natal place: The Vaisyas from her thighs, 'tis said, The Sudras from her feet were bred. From Anala all trees that hang Their fair fruit-laden branches sprang. The child of beauteous Suki bore Vinata, as I taught before: And Surasa and Kadru were Born of one dame, a noble pair. Kadru gave birth to countless snakes That roam the earth in woods and brakes. Arun and Garud swift of flight By Vinata were given to light, And sons of Arun red as morn Sampati first, then I was born, Me then, O tamer of the foe, Jatayus, son of Syeni, know. Thy ready helper will I be, And guard thy house, if thou agree: When thou and Lakshman urge the chase By Sita's side shall be my place." With courteous thanks for promised aid, The prince, to rapture stirred, Bent low, and due obeisance paid, Embraced the royal bird. He often in the days gone by Had heard his father tell How, linked with him in friendship's tie, He loved Jatayus well. He hastened to his trusted friend His darling to confide, And through the wood his steps to bend By strong Jatayus' side. On to the grove, with Lakshman near, The prince his way pursued To free those pleasant shades from fear And slay the giant brood.



Canto XV. Panchavati.

Arrived at Panchavati's shade Where silvan life and serpents strayed, Rama in words like these addressed Lakshman of vigour unrepressed:

"Brother, our home is here: behold The grove of which the hermit told: The bowers of Panchavati see Made fair by every blooming tree. Now, brother, bend thine eyes around; With skilful glance survey the ground: Here be some spot selected, best Approved for gentle hermits' rest, Where thou, the Maithil dame, and I May dwell while seasons sweetly fly. Some pleasant spot be chosen where Pure waters gleam and trees are fair, Some nook where flowers and wood are found And sacred grass and springs abound."

Then Lakshman, Sita standing by, Raised reverent hands, and made reply:

"A hundred years shall flee, and still Will I obey my brother's will: Select thyself a pleasant spot; Be mine the care to rear the cot." The glorious chieftain, pleased to hear That loving speech that soothed his ear, Selected with observant care A spot with every charm most fair. He stood within that calm retreat, A shade for hermits' home most meet, And thus Sumitra's son addressed, While his dear hand in his he pressed:

"See, see this smooth and lovely glade Which flowery trees encircling shade: Do thou, beloved Lakshman rear A pleasant cot to lodge us here. I see beyond that feathery brake The gleaming of a lilied lake, Where flowers in sunlike glory throw Fresh odours from the wave below. Agastya's words now find we true, He told the charms which here we view: Here are the trees that blossom o'er Godavari's most lovely shore. Whose pleasant flood from side to side With swans and geese is beautified, And fair banks crowded with the deer That steal from every covert near. The peacock's cry is loud and shrill From many a tall and lovely hill, Green-belted by the trees that wave Full blossoms o'er the rock and cave. Like elephants whose huge fronts glow With painted streaks, the mountains show Long lines of gold and silver sheen With copper's darker hues between. With every tree each hill is graced, Where creepers blossom interlaced. Look where the Sal's long branches sway, And palms their fanlike leaves display; The date-tree and the Jak are near, And their long stems Tamalas rear. See the tall Mango lift his head, Asokas all their glory spread, The Ketak her sweet buds unfold, And Champacs hang their cups of gold.(450) The spot is pure and pleasant: here Are multitudes of birds and deer. O Lakshman, with our father's friend What happy hours we here shall spend!"

He spoke: the conquering Lakshman heard, Obedient to his brother's word. Raised by his toil a cottage stood To shelter Rama in the wood, Of ample size, with leaves o'erlaid, Of hardened earth the walls were made. The strong bamboos his hands had felled For pillars fair the roof upheld, And rafter, beam, and lath supplied Well interwrought from side to side. Then Sami(451) boughs he deftly spread Enlaced with knotted cord o'erhead, Well thatched above from ridge to eaves With holy grass, and reed, and leaves. The mighty chief with careful toil Had cleared the ground and smoothed the soil Where now, his loving labour done, Rose a fair home for Raghu's son. Then when his work was duly wrought, Godavaris sweet stream he sought, Bathed, plucked the lilies, and a store Of fruit and berries homeward bore. Then sacrifice he duly paid, And wooed the Gods their hopes to aid, And then to Rama proudly showed The cot prepared for his abode. Then Raghu's son with Sita gazed Upon the home his hands had raised, And transport thrilled his bosom through His leafy hermitage to view. The glorious son of Raghu round His brother's neck his arms enwound, And thus began his sweet address Of deep-felt joy and gentleness: "Well pleased am I, dear lord, to see This noble work performed by thee. For this,—sole grace I can bestow,— About thy neck mine arms I throw. So wise art thou, thy breast is filled With grateful thoughts, in duty skilled, Our mighty father, free from stain, In thee, his offspring, lives again."

Thus spoke the prince, who lent a grace To fortune, pride of Raghu's race; Then in that spot whose pleasant shade Gave store of fruit, content he stayed. With Lakshman and his Maithil spouse He spent his day's neath sheltering boughs, As happy as a God on high Lives in his mansion in the sky.



Canto XVI. Winter.

While there the high-souled hero spent His tranquil hours in sweet content, The glowing autumn passed, and then Came winter so beloved of men.

One morn, to bathe, at break of day To the fair stream he took his way. Behind him, with the Maithil dame Bearing a pitcher Lakshman came, And as he went the mighty man Thus to his brother chief began:

"The time is come, to thee more dear Than all the months that mark the year: The gracious seasons' joy and pride, By which the rest are glorified. A robe of hoary rime is spread O'er earth, with corn engarlanded. The streams we loved no longer please, But near the fire we take our ease. Now pious men to God and shade Offer young corn's fresh sprouted blade, And purge away their sins with rice Bestowed in humble sacrifice. Rich stores of milk delight the swain, And hearts are cheered that longed for gain, Proud kings whose breasts for conquests glow Lead bannered troops to smite the foe. Dark is the north: the Lord of Day To Yama's south(452) has turned away: And she—sad widow—shines no more, Reft of the bridal mark(453) she wore. Himalaya's hill, ordained of old The treasure-house of frost and cold, Scarce conscious of the feebler glow, Is truly now the Lord of Snow. Warmed by the noontide's genial rays Delightful are the glorious days: But how we shudder at the chill Of evening shadows and the rill! How weak the sun, how cold the breeze! How white the rime on grass and trees! The leaves are sere, the woods have lost Their blossoms killed by nipping frost. Neath open skies we sleep no more: December's nights with rime are hoar: Their triple watch(454) in length extends With hours the shortened daylight lends. No more the moon's sun-borrowed rays Are bright, involved in misty haze, As when upon the mirror's sheen The breath's obscuring cloud is seen. E'en at the full the faint beams fail To struggle through the darksome veil: Changed like her hue, they want the grace That parts not yet from Sita's face. Cold is the western wind, but how Its piercing chill is heightened now, Blowing at early morning twice As furious with its breath of ice! See how the dewy tears they weep The barley, wheat, and woodland steep, Where, as the sun goes up the sky, The curlew and the saras cry. See where the rice plants scarce uphold Their full ears tinged with paly gold, Bending their ripe heads slowly down Fair as the date tree's flowery crown. Though now the sun has mounted high Seeking the forehead of the sky, Such mist obscures his struggling beams, No bigger than the moon he seems. Though weak at first, his rays at length Grow pleasant in their noonday strength, And where a while they chance to fall Fling a faint splendour over all. See, o'er the woods where grass is wet With hoary drops that cling there yet, With soft light clothing earth and bough There steals a tender glory now. Yon elephant who longs to drink, Still standing on the river's brink, Plucks back his trunk in shivering haste From the cold wave he fain would taste. The very fowl that haunt the mere Stand doubtful on the bank, and fear To dip them in the wintry wave As cowards dread to meet the brave. The frost of night, the rime of dawn Bind flowerless trees and glades of lawn: Benumbed in apathetic chill Of icy chains they slumber still. You hear the hidden saras cry From floods that wrapped in vapour lie, And frosty-shining sands reveal Where the unnoticed rivers steal. The hoary rime of dewy night, And suns that glow with tempered light Lend fresh cool flavours to the rill That sparkles from the topmost hill. The cold has killed the lily's pride: Leaf, filament, and flower have died: With chilling breath rude winds have blown, The withered stalk is left alone. At this gay time, O noblest chief, The faithful Bharat, worn by grief, Lives in the royal town where he Spends weary hours for love of thee. From titles, honour, kingly sway, From every joy he turns away: Couched on cold earth, his days are passed With scanty fare and hermit's fast. This moment from his humble bed He lifts, perhaps, his weary head, And girt by many a follower goes To bathe where silver Sarju flows. How, when the frosty morn is dim, Shall Sarju be a bath for him Nursed with all love and tender care, So delicate and young and fair. How bright his hue! his brilliant eye With the broad lotus leaf may vie. By fortune stamped for happy fate, His graceful form is tall and straight. In duty skilled, his words are truth: He proudly rules each lust of youth. Though his strong arm smites down the foe, In gentle speech his accents flow. Yet every joy has he resigned And cleaves to thee with heart and mind. Thus by the deeds that he has done A name in heaven has Bharat won, For in his life he follows yet Thy steps, O banished anchoret. Thus faithful Bharat, nobly wise, The proverb of the world belies: "No men, by mothers' guidance led, The footsteps of their fathers tread." How could Kaikeyi, blest to be Spouse of the king our sire, and see A son like virtuous Bharat, blot Her glory with so foul a plot!"

Thus in fraternal love he spoke, And from his lips reproaches broke: But Rama grieved to hear him chide The absent mother, and replied:

"Cease, O beloved, cease to blame Our royal father's second dame. Still speak of Bharat first in place Of old Ikshvaku's princely race. My heart, so firmly bent but now To dwell in woods and keep my vow, Half melting as I hear thee speak Of Bharat's love, grows soft and weak, With tender joy I bring to mind His speeches ever sweet and kind. That dear as Amrit took the sense With most enchanting influence. Ah, when shall I, no more to part, Meet Bharat of the mighty heart? When, O my brother, when shall we The good and brave Satrughna see?" Thus as he poured his fond lament The son of Raghu onward went: They reached the river, and the three Bathed them in fair Godavari. Libations of the stream they paid To every deity and shade, With hymns of praise, the Sun on high And sinless Gods to glorify. Fresh from the purifying tide Resplendent Rama came, With Lakshman ever by his side, And the sweet Maithil dame. So Rudra shines by worlds adored, In glory undefiled, When Nandi(455) stands beside his lord, And King Himalaya's child.(456)



Canto XVII. Surpanakha.

The bathing and the prayer were o'er; He turned him from the grassy shore, And with his brother and his spouse Sought his fair home beneath the boughs. Sita and Lakshman by his side, On to his cot the hero hied, And after rites at morning due Within the leafy shade withdrew. Then, honoured by the devotees, As royal Rama sat at ease, With Sita near him, o'er his head A canopy of green boughs spread, He shone as shines the Lord of Night By Chitra's(457) side, his dear delight. With Lakshman there he sat and told Sweet stories of the days of old, And as the pleasant time he spent With heart upon each tale intent, A giantess, by fancy led, Came wandering to his leafy shed. Fierce Surpanakha,—her of yore The Ten-necked tyrant's mother bore,— Saw Rama with his noble mien Bright as the Gods in heaven are seen; Him from whose brow a glory gleamed, Like lotus leaves his full eyes beamed: Long-armed, of elephantine gait, With hair close coiled in hermit plait: In youthful vigour, nobly framed, By glorious marks a king proclaimed: Like some bright lotus lustrous-hued, With young Kandarpa's(458) grace endued: As there like Indra's self he shone, She loved the youth she gazed upon. She grim of eye and foul of face Loved his sweet glance and forehead's grace: She of unlovely figure, him Of stately form and shapely limb: She whose dim locks disordered hung, Him whose bright hair on high brows clung: She whose fierce accents counselled fear, Him whose soft tones were sweet to hear: She whose dire form with age was dried, Him radiant in his youthful pride: She whose false lips maintained the wrong, Him in the words of virtue strong: She cruel-hearted, stained with sin, Him just in deed and pure within. She, hideous fiend, a thing to hate, Him formed each eye to captivate: Fierce passion in her bosom woke, And thus to Raghu's son she spoke:

"With matted hair above thy brows, With bow and shaft and this thy spouse, How hast thou sought in hermit dress The giant-haunted wilderness? What dost thou here? The cause explain: Why art thou come, and what to gain?" As Surpanakha questioned so, Rama, the terror of the foe, In answer to the monster's call, With fearless candour told her all. "King Dasaratha reigned of old, Like Gods celestial brave and bold. I am his eldest son and heir, And Rama is the name I bear. This brother, Lakshman, younger born, Most faithful love to me has sworn. My wife, this princess, dear to fame, Is Sita the Videhan dame. Obedient to my sire's behest And by the queen my mother pressed, To keep the law and merit win, I sought this wood to harbour in. But speak, for I of thee in turn Thy name, and race, and sire would learn. Thou art of giant race, I ween. Changing at will thy form and mien. Speak truly, and the cause declare That bids thee to these shades repair."

Thus Rama spoke: the demon heard, And thus replied by passion spurred: "Of giant race, what form soe'er My fancy wills, 'tis mine to wear. Named Surpanakha here I stray, And where I walk spread wild dismay. King Ravan is my brother: fame Has taught perchance his dreaded name, Strong Kumbhakarna slumbering deep In chains of never-ending sleep: Vibhishan of the duteous mind, In needs unlike his giant kind: Dushan and Khara, brave and bold Whose fame by every tongue is told: Their might by mine is far surpassed; But when, O best of men, I cast These fond eyes on thy form, I see My chosen love and lord in thee. Endowed with wondrous might am I: Where'er my fancy leads I fly. The poor misshapen Sita leave, And me, thy worthier bride receive. Look on my beauty, and prefer A spouse more meet than one like her: I'll eat that ill-formed woman there: Thy brother too her fate shall share. But come, beloved, thou shalt roam With me through all our woodland home; Each varied grove with me shalt seek, And gaze upon each mountain peak."

As thus she spoke, the monster gazed With sparkling eyes where passion blazed: Then he, in lore of language learned, This answer eloquent returned:



Canto XVIII. The Mutilation.

On her ensnared in Kama's net His eyes the royal Rama set, And thus, her passion to beguile, Addressed her with a gentle smile:

"I have a wife: behold her here, My Sita ever true and dear: And one like thee will never brook Upon a rival spouse to look. But there my brother Lakshman stands: Unchained is he by nuptial bands: A youth heroic, loved of all, Gracious and gallant, fair and tall. With winning looks, most nobly bred, Unmatched till now, he longs to wed. Meet to enjoy thy youthful charms, O take him to thy loving arms. Enamoured on his bosom lie, Fair damsel of the radiant eye, As the warm sunlight loves to rest Upon her darling Meru's breast."

The hero spoke, the monster heard, While passion still her bosom stirred. Away from Rama's side she broke, And thus in turn to Lakshman spoke: "Come, for thy bride take me who shine In fairest grace that suits with thine. Thou by my side from grove to grove Of Dandak's wild in bliss shalt rove."

Then Lakshman, skilled in soft address, Wooed by the amorous giantess, With art to turn her love aside, To Surpanakha thus replied:

"And can so high a dame agree The slave-wife of a slave to be? I, lotus-hued! in good and ill Am bondsman to my brother's will. Be thou, fair creature radiant-eyed, My honoured brother's younger bride: With faultless tint and dainty limb, A happy wife, bring joy to him. He from his spouse grown old and grey, Deformed, untrue, will turn away, Her withered charms will gladly leave, And to his fair young darling cleave. For who could be so fond and blind, O loveliest of all female kind, To love another dame and slight Thy beauties rich in all delight?"

Thus Lakshman praised in scornful jest The long-toothed fiend with loathly breast, Who fondly heard his speech, nor knew His mocking words were aught but true. Again inflamed with love she fled To Rama, in his leafy shed Where Sita rested by his side, And to the mighty victor cried:

"What, Rama, canst thou blindly cling To this old false misshapen thing? Wilt thou refuse the charms of youth For withered breast and grinning tooth! Canst thou this wretched creature prize And look on me with scornful eyes? This aged crone this very hour Before thy face will I devour: Then joyous, from all rivals free. Through Dandak will I stray with thee."

She spoke, and with a glance of flame Rushed on the fawn-eyed Maithil dame: So would a horrid meteor mar Fair Rohini's soft beaming star. But as the furious fiend drew near, Like Death's dire noose which chills with fear, The mighty chief her purpose stayed, And spoke, his brother to upbraid: "Ne'er should we jest with creatures rude, Of savage race and wrathful mood. Think, Lakshman, think how nearly slain My dear Videhan breathes again. Let not the hideous wretch escape Without a mark to mar her shape. Strike, lord of men, the monstrous fiend, Deformed, and foul, and evil-miened."

He spoke: then Lakshman's wrath rose high, And there before his brother's eye, He drew that sword which none could stay, And cleft her nose and ears away. Noseless and earless, torn and maimed, With fearful shrieks the fiend exclaimed, And frantic in her wild distress Resought the distant wilderness. Deformed, terrific, huge, and dread, As on she moved, her gashes bled, And groan succeeded groan as loud As roars, ere rain, the thunder cloud. Still on the fearful monster passed, While streams of blood kept falling fast, And with a roar, and arms outspread Within the boundless wood she fled. To Janasthan the monster flew; Fierce Khara there she found, With chieftains of the giant crew In thousands ranged around. Before his awful feet she bent And fell with piercing cries, As when a bolt in swift descent Comes flashing from the skies. There for a while with senses dazed Silent she lay and scared: At length her drooping head she raised, And all the tale declared, How Rama, Lakshman, and the dame Had reached that lonely place: Then told her injuries and shame, And showed her bleeding face.



Canto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara.

When Khara saw his sister lie With blood-stained limbs and troubled eye, Wild fury in his bosom woke, And thus the monstrous giant spoke;

"Arise, my sister; cast away This numbing terror and dismay, And straight the impious hand declare That marred those features once so fair. For who his finger tip will lay On the black snake in childish play, And unattacked, with idle stroke His poison-laden fang provoke? Ill-fated fool, he little knows Death's noose around his neck he throws, Who rashly met thee, and a draught Of life-destroying poison quaffed. Strong, fierce as death, 'twas thine to choose Thy way at will, each shape to use; In power and might like one of us: What hand has maimed and marred thee thus? What God or fiend this deed has wrought, What bard or sage of lofty thought Was armed with power supremely great Thy form to mar and mutilate? In all the worlds not one I see Would dare a deed to anger me: Not Indra's self, the Thousand-eyed, Beneath whose hand fierce Paka(459) died. My life-destroying darts this day His guilty breath shall rend away, E'en as the thirsty wild swan drains Each milk-drop that the wave retains. Whose blood in foaming streams shall burst O'er the dry ground which lies athirst, When by my shafts transfixed and slain He falls upon the battle plain? From whose dead corpse shall birds of air The mangled flesh and sinews tear, And in their gory feast delight, When I have slain him in the fight? Not God or bard or wandering ghost, No giant of our mighty host Shall step between us, or avail To save the wretch when I assail. Collect each scattered sense, recall Thy troubled thoughts, and tell me all. What wretch attacked thee in the way, And quelled thee in victorious fray?"

His breast with burning fury fired, Thus Khara of the fiend inquired: And then with many a tear and sigh Thus Surpanakha made reply: "'Tis Dasaratha's sons, a pair Strong, resolute, and young, and fair: In coats of dark and blackdeer's hide, And like the radiant lotus eyed: On berries roots and fruit they feed, And lives of saintly virtue lead: With ordered senses undefiled, Rama and Lakshman are they styled. Fair as the Minstrels' King(460) are they, And stamped with signs of regal sway. I know not if the heroes trace Their line from Gods or Danav(461) race. There by these wondering eyes between The noble youths a dame was seen, Fair, blooming, young, with dainty waist, And all her bright apparel graced. For her with ready heart and mind The royal pair their strength combined, And brought me to this last distress, Like some lost woman, comfortless. Perfidious wretch! my soul is fain Her foaming blood and theirs to drain. O let me head the vengeful fight, And with this hand my murderers smite. Come, brother, hasten to fulfil This longing of my eager will. On to the battle! Let me drink Their lifeblood as to earth they sink."

Then Khara, by his sister pressed, Inflamed with fury, gave his hest To twice seven giants of his crew, Fierce as the God of death to view:

'Two men equipped with arms, who wear Deerskin and bark and matted hair, Leading a beauteous dame, have strayed To the wild gloom of Dandak's shade. These men, this cursed woman slay, And hasten back without delay, That this my sister's lips may be Red with the lifeblood of the three. Giants, my wounded sister longs To take this vengeance for her wrongs. With speed her dearest wish fulfil, And with your might these creatures kill. Soon as your matchless strength shall lay These brothers dead in battle fray, She in triumphant joy will laugh, And their hearts' blood delighted quaff."

The giants heard the words he said, And forth with Surpanakha sped, As mighty clouds in autumn fly Urged by the wind along the sky.



Canto XX. The Giants' Death.

Fierce Surpanakha with her train To Rama's dwelling came again, And to the eager giants showed Where Sita and the youths abode. Within the leafy cot they spied The hero by his consort's side, And faithful Lakshman ready still To wait upon his brother's will. Then noble Rama raised his eye And saw the giants standing nigh, And then, as nearer still they pressed. His glorious brother thus addressed, "Be thine a while, my brother dear, To watch o'er Sita's safety here, And I will slay these creatures who The footsteps of my spouse pursue."

He spoke, and reverent Lakshman heard Submissive to his brother's word. The son of Raghu, virtuous-souled, Strung his great bow adorned with gold, And, with the weapon in his hand, Addressed him to the giant band: "Rama and Lakshman we, who spring From Dasaratha, mighty king; We dwell a while with Sita here In Dandak forest wild and drear. On woodland roots and fruit we feed, And lives of strictest rule we lead. Say why would ye our lives oppress Who sojourn in the wilderness. Sent hither by the hermits' prayer With bow and darts unused to spare, For vengeance am I come to slay Your sinful band in battle fray. Rest as ye are: remain content, Nor try the battle's dire event. Unless your offered lives ye spurn, O rovers of the night, return."

They listened while the hero spoke, And fury in each breast awoke. The Brahman-slayers raised on high Their mighty spears and made reply: They spoke with eyes aglow with ire, While Rama's burnt with vengeful tire, And answered thus, in fury wild, That peerless chief whose tones were mild:

"Nay thou hast angered, overbold, Khara our lord, the mighty-souled, And for thy sin, in battle strife Shalt yield to us thy forfeit life. No power hast thou alone to stand Against the numbers of our band. 'Twere vain to match thy single might Against us in the front of fight. When we equipped for fight advance With brandished pike and mace and lance, Thou, vanquished in the desperate field, Thy bow, thy strength, thy life shalt yield."

With bitter words and threatening mien Thus furious spoke the fierce fourteen, And raising scimitar and spear On Rama rushed in wild career. Their levelled spears the giant crew Against the matchless hero threw. His bow the son of Raghu bent, And twice seven shafts to meet them sent, And every javelin sundered fell By the bright darts he aimed so well.

The hero saw: his anger grew To fury: from his side he drew Fresh sunbright arrows pointed keen, In number, like his foes, fourteen. His bow he grasped, the string he drew, And gazing on the giant crew, As Indra casts the levin, so Shot forth his arrows at the foe. The hurtling arrows, stained with gore, Through the fiends' breasts a passage tore, And in the earth lay buried deep As serpents through an ant-hill creep Like trees uptorn by stormy blast The shattered fiends to earth were cast, And there with mangled bodies they, Bathed in their blood and breathless, lay.

With fainting heart and furious eye The demon saw her champions die. With drying wounds that scarcely bled Back to her brother's home she fled. Oppressed with pain, with loud lament At Khara's feet the monster bent. There like a plant whence slowly come The trickling drops of oozy gum, With her grim features pale with pain She poured her tears in ceaseless rain, There routed Surpanakha lay, And told her brother all, The issue of the bloody fray, Her giant champions' fall.



Canto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara.

Low in the dust he saw her lie, And Khara's wrath grew fierce and high. Aloud he cried to her who came Disgracefully with baffled aim: "I sent with thee at thy request The bravest of my giants, best Of all who feed upon the slain: Why art thou weeping here again? Still to their master's interest true, My faithful, noble, loyal crew, Though slaughtered in the bloody fray, Would yet their monarch's word obey. Now I, my sister, fain would know The cause of this thy fear and woe, Why like a snake thou writhest there, Calling for aid in wild despair. Nay, lie not thus in lowly guise: Cast off thy weakness and arise!"

With soothing words the giant chief Assuaged the fury of her grief. Her weeping eyes she slowly dried And to her brother thus replied: "I sought thee in my shame and fear With severed nose and mangled ear: My gashes like a river bled, I sought thee and was comforted. Those twice seven giants, brave and strong, Thou sentest to avenge the wrong, To lay the savage Rama low, And Lakshman who misused me so. But ah, the shafts of Rama through The bodies of my champions flew: Though madly fierce their spears they plied, Beneath his conquering might they died. I saw them, famed for strength and speed, I saw my heroes fall and bleed: Great trembling seized my every limb At the great deed achieved by him. In trouble, horror, doubt, and dread, Again to thee for help I fled. While terror haunts my troubled sight, I seek thee, rover of the night. And canst thou not thy sister free From this wide waste of troublous sea Whose sharks are doubt and terror, where Each wreathing wave is dark despair? Low lie on earth thy giant train By ruthless Rama's arrows slain, And all the mighty demons, fed On blood, who followed me are dead. Now if within thy breast may be Pity for them and love for me, If thou, O rover of the night, Have valour and with him can fight, Subdue the giants' cruel foe Who dwells where Dandak's thickets grow. But if thine arm in vain assay This queller of his foes to slay, Now surely here before thine eyes, Wronged and ashamed thy sister dies. Too well, alas, too well I see That, strong in war as thou mayst be, Thou canst not in the battle stand When Rama meets thee hand to hand. Go forth, thou hero but in name, Assuming might thou canst not claim; Call friend and kin, no longer stay: Away from Janasthan, away! Shame of thy race! the weak alone Beneath thine arm may sink o'erthrown: Fly Rama and his brother: they Are men too strong for thee to slay. How canst thou hope, O weak and base, To make this grove thy dwelling-place? With Rama's might unmeet to vie, O'ermastered thou wilt quickly die. A hero strong in valorous deed Is Rama, Dasaratha's seed: And scarce of weaker might than he His brother chief who mangled me."

Thus wept and wailed in deep distress The grim misshapen giantess: Before her brother's feet she lay O'erwhelmed with grief, and swooned away.



Canto XXII. Khara's Wrath.

Roused by the taunting words she spoke, The mighty Khara's wrath awoke, And there, while giants girt him round, In these fierce words an utterance found:

"I cannot, peerless one, contain Mine anger at this high disdain, Galling as salt when sprinkled o'er The rawness of a bleeding sore. Rama in little count I hold, Weak man whose days are quickly told. The caitiff with his life to-day For all his evil deeds shall pay. Dry, sister, dry each needless tear, Stint thy lament and banish fear, For Rama and his brother go This day to Yama's realm below. My warrior's axe shall stretch him slain, Ere set of sun, upon the plain, Then shall thy sated lips be red With his warm blood in torrents shed."

As Khara's speech the demon heard, With sudden joy her heart was stirred: She fondly praised him as the boast And glory of the giant host. First moved to ire by taunts and stings, Now soothed by gentle flatterings, To Dushan, who his armies led, The demon Khara spoke, and said:

"Friend, from the host of giants call Full fourteen thousand, best of all, Slaves of my will, of fearful might, Who never turn their backs in fight: Fiends who rejoice to slay and mar, Dark as the clouds of autumn are: Make ready quickly, O my friend, My chariot and the bows I bend. My swords, my shafts of brilliant sheen, My divers lances long and keen. On to the battle will I lead These heroes of Pulastya's seed, And thus, O famed for warlike skill, Rama my wicked foeman kill."

He spoke, and ere his speech was done, His chariot glittering like the sun, Yoked and announced, by Dushan's care, With dappled steeds was ready there. High as a peak from Meru rent It burned with golden ornament: The pole of lazulite, of gold Were the bright wheels whereon it rolled. With gold and moonstone blazoned o'er, Fish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore; Auspicious birds embossed thereon, And stars in costly emblem shone. O'er flashing swords his banner hung, And sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung. That mighty host with sword and shield And oar was ready for the field: And Khara saw, and Dushan cried, "Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride." Then banners waved, and shield and sword Flashed as the host obeyed its lord. From Janasthan they sallied out With eager speed, and din, and shout, Armed with the mace for close attacks, The bill, the spear, the battle-axe, Steel quoit and club that flashed afar, Huge bow and sword and scimitar, The dart to pierce, the bolt to strike, The murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike. So forth from Janasthan, intent On Khara's will, the monsters went. He saw their awful march: not far Behind the host he drove his car. Ware of his master's will, to speed The driver urged each gold-decked steed. Then forth the warrior's coursers sprang, And with tumultuous murmur rang Each distant quarter of the sky And realms that intermediate lie. High and more high within his breast His pride triumphant rose, While terrible as Death he pressed Onward to slay his foes, "More swiftly yet," as on they fled, He cried in thundering tones Loud as a cloud that overhead Hails down a flood of stones.



Canto XXIII. The Omens.

As forth upon its errand went That huge ferocious armament, An awful cloud, in dust and gloom, With threatening thunders from its womb Poured in sad augury a flood Of rushing water mixt with blood. The monarch's steeds, though strong and fleet, Stumbled and fell: and yet their feet Passed o'er the bed of flowers that lay Fresh gathered on the royal way. No gleam of sunlight struggled through The sombre pall of midnight hue, Edged with a line of bloody red, Like whirling torches overhead. A vulture, fierce, of mighty size. Terrific with his cruel eyes, Perched on the staff enriched with gold, Whence hung the flag in many a fold. Each ravening bird, each beast of prey Where Janasthan's wild thickets lay, Rose with a long discordant cry And gathered as the host went by. And from the south long, wild, and shrill, Came spirit voices boding ill. Like elephants in frantic mood, Vast clouds terrific, sable-hued, Hid all the sky where'er they bore Their load of water mixt with gore. Above, below, around were spread Thick shades of darkness strange and dread, Nor could the wildered glance descry A point or quarter of the sky. Then came o'er heaven a sanguine hue, Though evening's flush not yet was due, While each ill-omened bird that flies Assailed the king with harshest cries. There screamed the vulture and the crane, And the loud jackal shrieked again. Each hideous thing that bodes aright Disaster in the coming fight, With gaping mouth that hissed and flamed, The ruin of the host proclaimed. Eclipse untimely reft away The brightness of the Lord of Day, And near his side was seen to glow A mace-like comet boding woe. Then while the sun was lost to view A mighty wind arose and blew, And stars like fireflies shed their light, Nor waited for the distant night. The lilies drooped, the brooks were dried, The fish and birds that swam them died, And every tree that was so fair With flower and fruit was stripped and bare. The wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high, Dark clouds of dust involved the sky. In doleful twitter long sustained The restless Sarikas(462) complained, And from the heavens with flash and flame Terrific meteors roaring came. Earth to her deep foundation shook With rock and tree and plain and brook, As Khara with triumphant shout, Borne in his chariot, sallied out. His left arm throbbed: he knew full well That omen, and his visage fell. Each awful sign the giant viewed, And sudden tears his eye bedewed. Care on his brow sat chill and black, Yet mad with wrath he turned not back. Upon each fearful sight that raised The shuddering hair the chieftain gazed, And laughing in his senseless pride Thus to his giant legions cried: "By sense of mightiest strength upborne, These feeble signs I laugh to scorn. I could bring down the stars that shine In heaven with these keen shafts of mine. Impelled by warlike fury I Could cause e'en Death himself to die. I will not seek my home again Until my pointed shafts have slain This Raghu's son so fierce in pride, And Lakshman by his brother's side. And she, my sister, she for whom These sons of Raghu meet their doom, She with delighted lips shall drain The lifeblood of her foemen slain. Fear not for me: I ne'er have known Defeat, in battle overthrown. Fear not for me, O giants; true Are the proud words I speak to you. The king of Gods who rules on high, If wild Airavat bore him nigh, Should fall before me bolt in hand: And shall these two my wrath withstand!"

He ended and the giant host Who heard their chief's triumphant boast, Rejoiced with equal pride elate, Entangled in the noose of Fate.

Then met on high in bright array, With eyes that longed to see the fray, God and Gandharva, sage and saint, With beings pure from earthly taint. Blest for good works aforetime wrought, Thus each to other spake his thought: "Now joy to Brahmans, joy to kine, And all whom world count half divine! May Raghu's offspring slay in fight Pulastya's sons who roam by night!" In words like these and more, the best Of high-souled saints their hopes expressed, Bending their eager eyes from where Car-borne with Gods they rode in air. Beneath them stretching far, they viewed The giants' death-doomed multitude. They saw where, urged with fury, far Before the host rolled Khara's car, And close beside their leader came Twelve giant peers of might and fame. Four other chiefs(463) before the rest Behind their leader Dushan pressed. Impetuous, cruel, dark, and dread, All thirsting for the fray, The hosts of giant warriors sped Onward upon their way. With eager speed they reached the spot Where dwelt the princely two,— Like planets in a league to blot The sun and moon from view.



Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight.

While Khara, urged by valiant rage, Drew near that little hermitage, Those wondrous signs in earth and sky Smote on each prince's watchful eye. When Rama saw those signs of woe Fraught with destruction to the foe, With bold impatience scarce repressed His brother chief he thus addressed:

"These fearful signs, my brother bold, Which threaten all our foes, behold: All laden, as they strike the view, With ruin to the fiendish crew. The angry clouds are gathering fast, Their skirts with dusty gloom o'ercast, And harsh with loud-voiced thunder, rain Thick drops of blood upon the plain. See, burning for the coming fight, My shafts with wreaths of smoke are white, And my great bow embossed with gold Throbs eager for the master's hold. Each bird that through the forest flies Sends out its melancholy cries. All signs foretell the dangerous strife, The jeopardy of limb and life. Each sight, each sound gives warning clear That foemen meet and death is near. But courage, valiant brother! well The throbbings of mine arm foretell That ruin waits the hostile powers, And triumph in the fight is ours. I hail the welcome omen: thou Art bright of face and clear of brow. For Lakshman, when the eye can trace A cloud upon the warrior's face Stealing the cheerful light away, His life is doomed in battle fray. List, brother, to that awful cry: With shout and roar the fiends draw nigh. With thundering beat of many a drum The savage-hearted giants come. The wise who value safety know To meet, prepared, the coming blow: In paths of prudence trained aright They watch the stroke before it smite. Take thou thine arrows and thy bow, And with the Maithil lady go For shelter to the mountain cave Where thickest trees their branches wave. I will not have thee, Lakshman, say One word in answer, but obey. By all thy honour for these feet Of mine, dear brother, I entreat. Thy warlike arm, I know could, smite To death these rovers of the night; But I this day would fight alone Till all the fiends be overthrown." He spake: and Lakshman answered naught: His arrows and his bow he brought, And then with Sita following hied For shelter to the mountain side. As Lakshman and the lady through The forest to the cave withdrew, "'Tis well," cried Rama. Then he braced His coat of mail around his waist. When, bright as blazing fire, upon His mighty limbs that armour shone, The hero stood like some great light Uprising in the dark of night. His dreadful shafts were by his side; His trusty bow he bent and plied, Prepared he stood: the bowstring rang, Filling the welkin with the clang.

The high-souled Gods together drew The wonder of the fight to view, The saints made free from spot and stain, And bright Gandharvas' heavenly train. Each glorious sage the assembly sought, Each saint divine of loftiest thought, And filled with zeal for Rama's sake. Thus they whose deeds were holy spake:

"Now be it well with Brahmans, now Well with the worlds and every cow! Let Rama in the deadly fray The fiends who walk in darkness slay, As He who bears the discus(464) slew The chieftains of the Asur crew."

Then each with anxious glances viewed His fellow and his speech renewed: "There twice seven thousand giants stand With impious heart and cruel hand: Here Rama stands, by virtue known: How can the hero fight alone?"

Thus royal sage and Brahman saint, Spirit, and Virtue free from taint, And all the Gods of heaven who rode On golden cars, their longing showed. Their hearts with doubt and terror rent, They saw the giants' armament, And Rama clothed in warrior might, Forth standing in the front of fight. Lord of the arm no toil might tire, He stood majestic in his ire, Matchless in form as Rudra(465) when His wrath is fierce on Gods or men.

While Gods and saints in close array Held converse of the coming fray, The army of the fiends drew near With sight and sound that counselled fear. Long, loud and deep their war-cry pealed, As on they rushed with flag and shield, Each, of his proper valour proud, Urging to fight the demon crowd. His ponderous bow each warrior tried, And swelled his bulk with martial pride. 'Mid shout and roar and trampling feet, And thunder of the drums they beat, Loud and more loud the tumult went Throughout the forest's vast extent, And all the life that moved within The woodland trembled at the din. In eager haste all fled to find Some tranquil spot, nor looked behind.

With every arm of war supplied, On-rushing wildly like the tide Of some deep sea, the giant host Approached where Rama kept his post. Then he, in battle skilled and tried, Bent his keen eye on every side, And viewed the host of Khara face To face before his dwelling-place. He drew his arrows forth, and reared And strained that bow which foemen feared, And yielded to the vengeful sway Of fierce desire that host to slay. Terrific as the ruinous fire That ends the worlds, he glowed in ire, And his tremendous form dismayed The Gods who roam the forest shade. For in the furious wrath that glowed Within his soul the hero showed Like Siva when his angry might Stayed Daksha's sacrificial rite.(466) Like some great cloud at dawn of day When first the sun upsprings, And o'er the gloomy mass each ray A golden radiance flings: Thus showed the children of the night, Whose mail and chariots threw, With gleam of bows and armlets bright, Flashes of flamy hue.



Canto XXV. The Battle.

When Khara with the hosts he led Drew near to Rama's leafy shed, He saw that queller of the foe Stand ready with his ordered bow. He saw, and burning at the view His clanging bow he raised and drew, And bade his driver urge apace His car to meet him face to face. Obedient to his master's hest His eager steeds the driver pressed On to the spot where, none to aid, The strong-armed chief his weapon swayed. Soon as the children of the night Saw Khara rushing to the fight, His lords with loud unearthly cry Followed their chief and gathered nigh. As in his car the leader rode With all his lords around, he showed Like the red planet fiery Mars Surrounded by the lesser stars. Then with a horrid yell that rent The air, the giant chieftain sent A thousand darts in rapid shower On Rama matchless in his power. The rovers of the night, impelled By fiery rage which naught withheld, Upon the unconquered prince, who strained His fearful bow, their arrows rained. With sword and club, with mace and pike, With spear and axe to pierce and strike, Those furious fiends on every side The unconquerable hero plied. The giant legions huge and strong, Like clouds the tempest drives along, Rushed upon Rama with the speed Of whirling car, and mounted steed, And hill-like elephant, to slay The matchless prince in battle fray. Then upon Rama thick and fast The rain of mortal steel they cast, As labouring clouds their torrents shed Upon the mountain-monarch's(467) head. As near and nearer round him drew The warriors of the giant crew, He showed like Siva girt by all His spirits when night's shadows fall. As the great deep receives each rill And river rushing from the hill, He bore that flood of darts, and broke With well-aimed shaft each murderous stroke. By stress of arrowy storm assailed, And wounded sore, he never failed, Like some high mountain which defies The red bolts flashing from the skies. With ruddy streams each limb was dyed From gaping wounds in breast and side, Showing the hero like the sun 'Mid crimson clouds ere day is done. Then, at that sight of terror, faint Grew God, Gandharva, sage, and saint, Trembling to see the prince oppose His single might to myriad foes. But waxing wroth, with force unspent, He strained his bow to utmost bent, And forth his arrows keen and true In hundreds, yea in thousands flew,— Shafts none could ward, and none endure: Death's fatal noose was scarce so sure. As 'twere in playful ease he shot His gilded shafts, and rested not. With swiftest flight and truest aim Upon the giant hosts they came. Each smote, each stayed a foeman's breath As fatal as the coil of Death. Each arrow through a giant tore A passage, and besmeared with gore, Pursued its onward way and through The air with flamy brilliance flew. Unnumbered were the arrows sent From the great bow which Rama bent, And every shaft with iron head The lifeblood of a giant shed. Their pennoned bows were cleft, nor mail Nor shield of hide could aught avail. For Rama's myriad arrows tore Through arms, and bracelets which they wore, And severed mighty warriors' thighs Like trunks of elephants in size, And cut resistless passage sheer Through gold-decked horse and charioteer, Slew elephant and rider, slew The horseman and the charger too, And infantry unnumbered sent To dwell 'neath Yama's government. Then rose on high a fearful yell Of rovers of the night, who fell Beneath that iron torrent, sore Wounded by shafts that rent and tore. So mangled by the ceaseless storm Of shafts of every kind and form, Such joy they found, as forests feel When scorched by flame, from Rama's steel. The mightiest still the fight maintained, And furious upon Rama rained Dart, arrow, spear, with wild attacks Of mace, and club, and battle-axe. But the great chief, unconquered yet, Their weapons with his arrows met, Which severed many a giant's head, And all the plain with corpses spread. With sundered bow and shattered shield Headless they sank upon the field, As the tall trees, that felt the blast Of Garud's wing, to earth were cast. The giants left unslaughtered there Where filled with terror and despair, And to their leader Khara fled Faint, wounded, and discomfited. These fiery Dushan strove to cheer, And poised his bow to calm their fear; Then fierce as He who rules the dead, When wroth, on angered Rama sped. By Dushan cheered, the demons cast Their dread aside and rallied fast With Sals, rocks, palm-trees in their hands With nooses, maces, pikes, and brands, Again upon the godlike man The mighty fiends infuriate ran, These casting rocks like hail, and these A whelming shower of leafy trees. Wild, wondrous fight, the eye to scare, And raise on end each shuddering hair, As with the fiends who loved to rove By night heroic Rama strove! The giants in their fury plied Rama with darts on every side. Then, by the gathering demons pressed From north and south and east and west, By showers of deadly darts assailed From every quarter fiercely hailed, Girt by the foes who swarmed around, He raised a mighty shout whose sound Struck terror. On the giant crew His great Gandharva(468) arrow flew. A thousand mortal shafts were rained From the orbed bow the hero strained, Till east and west and south and north Were filled with arrows volleyed forth. They heard the fearful shout: they saw His mighty hand the bowstring draw, Yet could no wounded giant's eye See the swift storm of arrows fly. Still firm the warrior stood and cast His deadly missiles thick and fast. Dark grew the air with arrowy hail Which hid the sun as with a veil. Fiends wounded, falling, fallen, slain, All in a moment, spread the plain, And thousands scarce alive were left Mangled, and gashed, and torn, and cleft. Dire was the sight, the plain o'erspread With trophies of the mangled dead. There lay, by Rama's missiles rent, Full many a priceless ornament, With severed limb and broken gem, Hauberk and helm and diadem. There lay the shattered car, the steed, The elephant of noblest breed, The splintered spear, the shivered mace, Chouris and screens to shade the face. The giants saw with bitterest pain Their warriors weltering on the plain, Nor dared again his might oppose Who scourged the cities of his foes.



Canto XXVI. Dushan's Death.

When Dushan saw his giant band Slaughtered by Rama's conquering hand, He called five thousand fiends, and gave His orders. Bravest of the brave, Invincible, of furious might, Ne'er had they turned their backs in flight. They, as their leader bade them seize Spears, swords, and clubs, and rocks, and trees, Poured on the dauntless prince again A ceaseless shower of deadly rain. The virtuous Rama, undismayed, Their missiles with his arrows stayed, And weakened, ere it fell, the shock Of that dire hail of tree and rock, And like a bull with eyelids closed, The pelting of the storm opposed.

Then blazed his ire: he longed to smite To earth the rovers of the night. The wrath that o'er his spirit came Clothed him with splendour as of flame, While showers of mortal darts he poured Fierce on the giants and their lord. Dushan, the foeman's dusky dread, By frenzied rage inspirited, On Raghu's son his missiles cast Like Indra's bolts which rend and blast. But Rama with a trenchant dart Cleft Dushan's ponderous bow apart. And then the gold-decked steeds who drew The chariot, with four shafts he slew. One crescent dart he aimed which shred Clean from his neck the driver's head; Three more with deadly skill addressed Stood quivering in the giant's breast. Hurled from his car, steeds, driver slain, The bow he trusted cleft in twain, He seized his mace, strong, heavy, dread, High as a mountain's towering head. With plates of gold adorned and bound, Embattled Gods it crushed and ground. Its iron spikes yet bore the stains Of mangled foemen's blood and brains. Its heavy mass of jagged steel Was like a thunderbolt to feel. It shattered, as on foes it fell, The city where the senses dwell.(469) Fierce Dushan seized that ponderous mace Like monstrous form of serpent race, And all his savage soul aglow With fury, rushed upon the foe. But Raghu's son took steady aim, And as the rushing giant came, Shore with two shafts the arms whereon The demon's glittering bracelets shone. His arm at each huge shoulder lopped, The mighty body reeled and dropped, And the great mace to earth was thrown Like Indra's staff when storms have blown. As some vast elephant who lies Shorn of his tusks, and bleeding dies, So, when his arms were rent away, Low on the ground the giant lay. The spirits saw the monster die, And loudly rang their joyful cry, "Honour to Rama! nobly done! Well hast thou fought, Kakutstha's son!" But the great three, the host who led, Enraged to see their chieftain dead, As though Death's toils were round them cast, Rushed upon Rama fierce and fast, Mahakapala seized, to strike His foeman down, a ponderous pike: Sthulaksha charged with spear to fling, Pramathi with his axe to swing. When Rama saw, with keen darts he Received the onset of the three, As calm as though he hailed a guest In each, who came for shade and rest. Mahakapala's monstrous head Fell with the trenchant dart he sped. His good right hand in battle skilled Sthulaksha's eyes with arrows filled, And trusting still his ready bow He laid the fierce Pramathi low, Who sank as some tall tree falls down With bough and branch and leafy crown. Then with five thousand shafts he slew The rest of Dushan's giant crew: Five thousand demons, torn and rent, To Yama's gloomy realm he sent.

When Khara knew the fate of all The giant band and Dushan's fall, He called the mighty chiefs who led His army, and in fury said:

"Now Dushan and his armed train Lie prostrate on the battle plain. Lead forth an army mightier still, Rama this wretched man, to kill. Fight ye with darts of every shape, Nor let him from your wrath escape."

Thus spoke the fiend, by rage impelled, And straight his course toward Rama held. With Syenagami and the rest Of his twelve chiefs he onward pressed, And every giant as he went A storm of well-wrought arrows sent. Then with his pointed shafts that came With gold and diamond bright as flame, Dead to the earth the hero threw The remnant of the demon crew. Those shafts with feathers bright as gold, Like flames which wreaths of smoke enfold, Smote down the fiends like tall trees rent By red bolts from the firmament. A hundred shafts he pointed well: By their keen barbs a hundred fell: A thousand,—and a thousand more In battle's front lay drenched in gore. Of all defence and guard bereft, With sundered bows and harness cleft. Their bodies red with bloody stain Fell the night-rovers on the plain, Which, covered with the loosened hair Of bleeding giants prostrate there, Like some great altar showed, arrayed For holy rites with grass o'erlaid. The darksome wood, each glade and dell Where the wild demons fought and fell Was like an awful hell whose floor Is thick with mire and flesh and gore.

Thus twice seven thousand fiends, a band With impious heart and bloody hand, By Raghu's son were overthrown, A man, on foot, and all alone. Of all who met on that fierce day, Khara, great chief, survived the fray, The monster of the triple head,(470) And Raghu's son, the foeman's dread. The other demon warriors, all Skilful and brave and strong and tall, In front of battle, side by side, Struck down by Lakshman's brother died. When Khara saw the host he led Triumphant forth to fight Stretched on the earth, all smitten dead, By Rama's nobler might, Upon his foe he fiercely glared, And drove against him fast, Like Indra when his arm is bared His thundering bolt to cast.



Canto XXVII. The Death Of Trisiras.

But Trisiras,(471) a chieftain dread, Marked Khara as he onward sped. And met his car and cried, to stay The giant from the purposed fray: "Mine be the charge: let me attack, And turn thee from the contest back. Let me go forth, and thou shalt see The strong-armed Rama slain by me. True are the words I speak, my lord: I swear it as I touch my sword: That I this Rama's blood will spill, Whom every giant's hand should kill. This Rama will I slay, or he In battle fray shall conquer me. Restrain thy spirit: check thy car, And view the combat from afar. Thou, joying o'er the prostrate foe, To Janasthan again shalt go, Or, if I fall in battle's chance, Against my conqueror advance."

Thus Trisiras for death who yearned: And Khara from the conflict turned, "Go forth to battle," Khara cried; And toward his foe the giant hied. Borne on a car of glittering hue Which harnessed coursers fleetly drew, Like some huge hill with triple peak He onward rushed the prince to seek. Still, like a big cloud, sending out His arrowy rain with many a shout Like the deep sullen roars that come Discordant from a moistened drum. But Raghu's son, whose watchful eye Beheld the demon rushing nigh, From the great bow he raised and bent A shower of shafts to meet him sent. Wild grew the fight and wilder yet As fiend and man in combat met, As when in some dark wood's retreat An elephant and a lion meet.

The giant bent his bow, and true To Rama's brow three arrows flew. Then, raging as he felt the stroke, These words in anger Rama spoke: "Heroic chief! is such the power Of fiends who rove at midnight hour? Soft as the touch of flowers I feel The gentle blows thine arrows deal. Receive in turn my shafts, and know What arrows fly from Rama's bow." Thus as he spoke his wrath grew hot, And twice seven deadly shafts he shot, Which, dire as serpent's deadly fang, Straight to the giant's bosom sprang. Four arrows more,—each shaped to deal A mortal wound with barbed steel,— The glorious hero shot, and slew The four good steeds the car that drew. Eight other shafts flew straight and fleet, And hurled the driver from his seat, And in the dust the banner laid That proudly o'er the chariot played. Then as the fiend prepared to bound Forth from his useless car to ground, The hero smote him to the heart, And numbed his arm with deadly smart. Again the chieftain, peerless-souled, Sent forth three rapid darts, and rolled With each keen arrow, deftly sped, Low in the dust a monstrous head. Then yielding to each deadly stroke, Forth spouting streams of blood and smoke, The headless trunk bedrenched with gore Fell to the ground and moved no more. The fiends who yet were left with life, Routed and crushed in battle strife, To Khara's side, like trembling deer Scared by the hunter, fled in fear. King Khara saw with furious eye His scattered giants turn and fly; Then rallying his broken train At Raghu's son he drove amain, Like Rahu(472) when his deadly might Comes rushing on the Lord of Night.



Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.

But when he turned his eye where bled Both Trisiras and Dushan dead, Fear o'er the giant's spirit came Of Rama's might which naught could tame. He saw his savage legions, those Whose force no creature dared oppose,— He saw the leader of his train By Rama's single prowess slain. With burning grief he marked the few Still left him of his giant crew. As Namuchi(473) on Indra, so Rushed the dread demon on his foe. His mighty bow the monster strained, And angrily on Rama rained His mortal arrows in a flood, Like serpent fangs athirst for blood. Skilled in the bowman's warlike art, He plied the string and poised the dart. Here, on his car, and there, he rode, And passages of battle showed, While all the skyey regions grew Dark with his arrows as they flew. Then Rama seized his ponderous bow, And straight the heaven was all aglow With shafts whose stroke no life might bear That filled with flash and flame the air, Thick as the blinding torrents sent Down from Parjanya's(474) firmament. In space itself no space remained, But all was filled with arrows rained Incessantly from each great bow Wielded by Rama and his foe. As thus in furious combat, wrought To mortal hate, the warriors fought, The sun himself grew faint and pale, Obscured behind that arrowy veil.

As when beneath the driver's steel An elephant is forced to kneel, So from the hard and pointed head Of many an arrow Rama bled. High on his car the giant rose Prepared in deadly strife to close, And all the spirits saw him stand Like Yama with his noose in hand. For Khara deemed in senseless pride That he, beneath whose hand had died The giant legions, failed at length Slow sinking with exhausted strength. But Rama, like a lion, when A trembling deer comes nigh his den, Feared not the demon mad with hate,— Of lion might and lion gait. Then in his lofty car that glowed With sunlike brilliance Khara rode At Rama: madly on he came Like a poor moth that seeks the flame. His archer skill the fiend displayed, And at the place where Rama laid His hand, an arrow cleft in two The mighty bow the hero drew. Seven arrows by the giant sent, Bright as the bolts of Indra, rent Their way through mail and harness joints, And pierced him with their iron points. On Rama, hero unsurpassed, A thousand shafts smote thick and fast, While as each missile struck, rang out The giant's awful battle-shout. His knotted arrows pierced and tore The sunbright mail the hero wore, Till, band and buckle rent away, Glittering on the ground it lay. Then pierced in shoulder, breast, and side, Till every limb with blood was dyed, The chieftain in majestic ire Shone glorious as the smokeless fire. Then loud and long the war-cry rose Of Rama, terror of his foes, As, on the giant's death intent, A ponderous bow he strung and bent,— Lord Vishnu's own, of wondrous size,— Agastya gave the heavenly prize. Then rushing on the demon foe, He raised on high that mighty bow, And with his well-wrought shafts, whereon Bright gold between the feathers shone, He struck the pennon fluttering o'er The chariot, and it waved no more. That glorious flag whose every fold Was rich with blazonry and gold, Fell as the sun himself by all The Gods' decree might earthward fall. From wrathful Khara's hand, whose art Well knew each vulnerable part, Four keenly-piercing arrows flew, And blood in Rama's bosom drew, With every limb distained with gore From deadly shafts which rent and tore, From Khara's clanging bowstring shots, The prince's wrath waxed wondrous hot. His hand upon his bow that best Of mighty archers firmly pressed, And from the well-drawn bowstring, true Each to its mark, six arrows flew. One quivered in the giant's head, With two his brawny shoulders bled; Three, with the crescent heads they bore, Deep in his breast a passage tore. Thirteen, to which the stone had lent The keenest point, were swiftly sent On the fierce giant, every one Destructive, gleaming like the sun. With four the dappled steeds he slew; One cleft the chariot yoke in two, One, in the heat of battle sped, Smote from the neck the driver's head. The poles were rent apart by three; Two broke the splintered axle-tree. Then from the hand of Rama, while Across his lips there came a smile, The twelfth, like thunderbolt impelled, Cut the great hand and bow it held. Then, scarce by Indra's self surpassed, He pierced the giant with the last. The bow he trusted cleft in twain, His driver and his horses slain, Down sprang the giant, mace in hand, On foot against the foe to stand. The Gods and saints in bright array Close gathered in the skies, The prince's might in battle-fray Beheld with joyful eyes. Uprising from their golden seats, Their hands in honour raised, They looked on Rama's noble feats, And blessed him as they praised.



Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat.

When Rama saw the giant nigh, On foot, alone, with mace reared high, In mild reproof at first he spoke, Then forth his threatening anger broke: "Thou with the host 'twas thine to lead, With elephant and car and steed, Hast wrought an act of sin and shame, An act which all who live must blame. Know that the wretch whose evil mind Joys in the grief of human kind, Though the three worlds confess him lord, Must perish dreaded and abhorred. Night-rover, when a villain's deeds Distress the world he little heeds, Each hand is armed his life to take, And crush him like a deadly snake. The end is near when men begin Through greed or lust a life of sin, E'en as a Brahman's dame, unwise, Eats of the fallen hail(475) and dies. Thy hand has slain the pure and good, The hermit saints of Dandak wood, Of holy life, the heirs of bliss; And thou shalt reap the fruit of this. Not long shall they whose cruel breasts Joy in the sin the world detests Retain their guilty power and pride, But fade like trees whose roots are dried. Yes, as the seasons come and go, Each tree its kindly fruit must show, And sinners reap in fitting time The harvest of each earlier crime. As those must surely die who eat Unwittingly of poisoned meat, They too whose lives in sin are spent Receive ere long the punishment. And know, thou rover of the night, That I, a king, am sent to smite The wicked down, who court the hate Of men whose laws they violate. This day my vengeful hand shall send Shafts bright with gold to tear and rend, And pass with fury through thy breast As serpents pierce an emmet's nest. Thou with thy host this day shalt be Among the dead below, and see The saints beneath thy hand who bled, Whose flesh thy cruel maw has fed. They, glorious on their seats of gold, Their slayer shall in hell behold. Fight with all strength thou callest thine, Mean scion of ignoble line, Still, like the palm-tree's fruit, this day My shafts thy head in dust shall lay."

Such were the words that Rama said: Then Khara's eyes with wrath glowed red, Who, maddened by the rage that burned Within him, with a smile returned:

"Thou Dasaratha's son, hast slain The meaner giants of my train: And canst thou idly vaunt thy might And claim the praise not thine by right? Not thus in self-laudation rave The truly great, the nobly brave: No empty boasts like thine disgrace The foremost of the human race. The mean of soul, unknown to fame, Who taint their warrior race with shame, Thus speak in senseless pride as thou, O Raghu's son, hast boasted now. What hero, when the war-cry rings, Vaunts the high race from which he springs, Or seeks, when warriors meet and die, His own descent to glorify? Weakness and folly show confessed In every vaunt thou utterest, As when the flames fed high with grass Detect the simulating brass. Dost thou not see me standing here Armed with the mighty mace I rear, Firm as an earth upholding hill Whose summit veins of metal fill? Lo, here I stand before thy face To slay thee with my murderous mace, As Death, the universal lord, Stands threatening with his fatal cord. Enough of this. Much more remains That should be said: but time constrains. Ere to his rest the sun descend, And shades of night the combat end, The twice seven thousand of my band Who fell beneath thy bloody hand Shall have their tears all wiped away And triumph in thy fall to-day."

He spoke, and loosing from his hold His mighty mace ringed round with gold, Like some red bolt alive with fire Hurled it at Rama, mad with ire. The ponderous mace which Khara threw Sent fiery flashes as it flew. Trees, shrubs were scorched beneath the blast, As onward to its aim it passed. But Rama, watching as it sped Dire as His noose who rules the dead, Cleft it with arrows as it came On rushing with a hiss and flame. Its fury spent and burnt away, Harmless upon the ground it lay Like a great snake in furious mood By herbs of numbing power subdued.



Canto XXX. Khara's Death.

When Rama, pride of Raghu's race, Virtue's dear son, had cleft the mace, Thus with superior smile the best Of chiefs the furious fiend addressed:

"Thou, worst of giant blood, at length Hast shown the utmost of thy strength, And forced by greater might to bow, Thy vaunting threats are idle now. My shafts have cut thy club in twain: Useless it lies upon the plain, And all thy pride and haughty trust Lie with it levelled in the dust. The words that thou hast said to-day, That thou wouldst wipe the tears away Of all the giants I have slain, My deeds shall render void and vain. Thou meanest of the giants' breed, Evil in thought and word and deed, My hand shall take that life of thine As Garud(476) seized the juice divine. Thou, rent by shafts, this day shalt die: Low on the ground thy corse shall lie, And bubbles from the cloven neck With froth and blood thy skin shall deck. With dust and mire all rudely dyed, Thy torn arms lying by thy side, While streams of blood each limb shall steep, Thou on earth's breast shalt take thy sleep Like a fond lover when he strains The beauty whom at length he gains. Now when thy heavy eyelids close For ever in thy deep repose, Again shall Dandak forest be Safe refuge for the devotee. Thou slain, and all thy race who held The realm of Janasthan expelled, Again shall happy hermits rove, Fearing no danger, through the grove. Within those bounds, their brethren slain, No giant shall this day remain, But all shall fly with many a tear And fearing, rid the saints of fear. This bitter day shall misery bring On all the race that calls thee king. Fierce as their lord, thy dames shall know, Bereft of joys, the taste of woe. Base, cruel wretch, of evil mind, Plaguer of Brahmans and mankind, With trembling hands each devotee Feeds holy fires in dread of thee."

Thus with wild fury unrepressed Raghu's brave son the fiend addressed; And Khara, as his wrath grew high, Thus thundered forth his fierce reply:

"By senseless pride to madness wrought, By danger girt thou fearest naught, Nor heedest, numbered with the dead, What thou shouldst say and leave unsaid. When Fate's tremendous coils enfold The captive in resistless hold, He knows not right from wrong, each sense Numbed by that deadly influence."

He spoke, and when his speech was done Bent his fierce brows on Raghu's son. With eager eyes he looked around If lethal arms might yet be found. Not far away and full in view A Sal-tree towering upward grew. His lips in mighty strain compressed, He tore it up with root and crest, With huge arms waved it o'er his head And hurled it shouting, Thou art dead. But Rama, unsurpassed in might, Stayed with his shafts its onward flight, And furious longing seized his soul The giant in the dust to roll. Great drops of sweat each limb bedewed, His red eyes showed his wrathful mood. A thousand arrows, swiftly sent, The giant's bosom tore and rent. From every gash his body showed The blood in foamy torrents flowed, As springing from their caverns leap Swift rivers down the mountain steep. When Khara felt each deadened power Yielding beneath that murderous shower, He charged, infuriate with the scent Of blood, in dire bewilderment. But Rama watched, with ready bow, The onset of his bleeding foe, And ere the monster reached him, drew Backward in haste a yard or two. Then from his side a shaft he took Whose mortal stroke no life might brook: Of peerless might, it bore the name Of Brahma's staff, and glowed with flame: Lord Indra, ruler of the skies, Himself had given the glorious prize. His bow the virtuous hero drew, And at the fiend the arrow flew. Hissing and roaring like the blast Of tempest through the air it passed, And fixed, by Rama's vigour sped, In the foe's breast its pointed head. Then fell the fiend: the quenchless flame Burnt furious in his wounded frame. So burnt by Rudra Andhak(477) fell In Svetaranya's silvery dell: So Namuchi and Vritra(478) died By steaming bolts that tamed their pride: So Bala(479) fell by lightning sent By Him who rules the firmament.

Then all the Gods in close array With the bright hosts who sing and play, Filled full of rapture and amaze, Sang hymns of joy in Rama's praise, Beat their celestial drums and shed Rain of sweet flowers upon his head. For three short hours had scarcely flown, And by his pointed shafts o'erthrown The twice seven thousand fiends, whose will Could change their shapes, in death were still, With Trisiras and Dushan slain, And Khara, leader of the train. "O wondrous deed," the bards began, "The noblest deed of virtuous man! Heroic strength that stood alone, And firmness e'en as Vishnu's own!"

Thus having sung, the shining train Turned to their heavenly homes again. Then the high saints of royal race And loftiest station sought the place, And by the great Agastya led, With reverence to Rama said:

"For this, Lord Indra, glorious sire, Majestic as the burning fire, Who crushes cities in his rage, Sought Sarabhanga's hermitage. Thou wast, this great design to aid, Led by the saints to seek this shade, And with thy mighty arm to kill The giants who delight in ill. Thou Dasaratha's noble son, The battle for our sake hast won, And saints in Dandak's wild who live Their days to holy tasks can give."

Forth from the mountain cavern came The hero Lakshman with the dame. And rapture beaming from his face, Resought the hermit dwelling-place. Then when the mighty saints had paid Due honour for the victor's aid, The glorious Rama honoured too By Lakshman to his cot withdrew. When Sita looked upon her lord, His foemen slain, the saints restored, In pride and rapture uncontrolled She clasped him in her loving hold. On the dead fiends her glances fell: She saw her lord alive and well, Victorious after toil and pain, And Janak's child was blest again. Once more, once more with new delight Her tender arms she threw Round Rama whose victorious might Had crushed the demon crew. Then as his grateful reverence paid Each saint of lofty soul, O'er her sweet face, all fears allayed, The flush of transport stole.



Canto XXXI. Ravan.

But of the host of giants one, Akampan, from the field had run And sped to Lanka(480) to relate In Ravan's ear the demons' fate:

"King, many a giant from the shade Of Janasthan in death is laid: Khara the chief is slain, and I Could scarcely from the battle fly."

Fierce anger, as the monarch heard, Inflamed his look, his bosom stirred, And while with scorching glance he eyed The messenger, he thus replied:

"What fool has dared, already dead, Strike Janasthan, the general dread? Who is the wretch shall vainly try In earth, heaven, hell, from me to fly? Vaisravan,(481) Indra, Vishnu, He Who rules the dead, must reverence me; For not the mightiest lord of these Can brave my will and live at ease. Fate finds in me a mightier fate To burn the fires that devastate. With unresisted influence I Can force e'en Death himself to die, With all-surpassing might restrain The fury of the hurricane, And burn in my tremendous ire The glory of the sun and fire."

As thus the fiend's hot fury blazed, His trembling hands Akampan raised, And with a voice which fear made weak, Permission craved his tale to speak. King Ravan gave the leave he sought, And bade him tell the news he brought. His courage rose, his voice grew bold, And thus his mournful tale he told:

"A prince with mighty shoulders, sprung From Dasaratha, brave and young, With arms well moulded, bears the name Of Rama with a lion's frame. Renowned, successful, dark of limb, Earth has no warrior equals him. He fought in Janasthan and slew Dushan the fierce and Khara too."

Ravan the giants' royal chief. Received Akampan's tale of grief. Then, panting like an angry snake, These words in turn the monarch spake:

"Say quick, did Rama seek the shade Of Janasthan with Indra's aid, And all the dwellers in the skies To back his hardy enterprise?"

Akampan heard, and straight obeyed His master, and his answer made. Then thus the power and might he told Of Raghu's son the lofty-souled:

"Best is that chief of all who know With deftest art to draw the bow. His are strange arms of heavenly might, And none can match him in the fight. His brother Lakshman brave as he, Fair as the rounded moon to see, With eyes like night and voice that comes Deep as the roll of beaten drums, By Rama's side stands ever near, Like wind that aids the flame's career. That glorious chief, that prince of kings, On Janasthan this ruin brings. No Gods were there,—dismiss the thought No heavenly legions came and fought. His swift-winged arrows Rama sent, Each bright with gold and ornament. To serpents many-faced they turned: The giant hosts they ate and burned. Where'er these fled in wild dismay Rama was there to strike and slay. By him O King of high estate, Is Janasthan left desolate."

Akampan ceased: in angry pride The giant monarch thus replied: "To Janasthan myself will go And lay these daring brothers low."

Thus spoke the king in furious mood: Akampan then his speech renewed: "O listen while I tell at length The terror of the hero's strength. No power can check, no might can tame Rama, a chief of noblest fame. He with resistless shafts can stay The torrent foaming on its way. Sky, stars, and constellations, all To his fierce might would yield and fall. His power could earth itself uphold Down sinking as it sank of old.(482) Or all its plains and cities drown, Breaking the wild sea's barrier down; Crush the great deep's impetuous will, Or bid the furious wind be still. He glorious in his high estate The triple world could devastate, And there, supreme of men, could place His creatures of a new-born race. Never can mighty Rama be O'ercome in fight, my King, by thee. Thy giant host the day might win From him, if heaven were gained by sin. If Gods were joined with demons, they Could ne'er, I ween, that hero slay, But guile may kill the wondrous man; Attend while I disclose the plan. His wife, above all women graced, Is Sita of the dainty waist, With limbs to fair proportion true, And a soft skin of lustrous hue, Round neck and arm rich gems are twined: She is the gem of womankind. With her no bright Gandharvi vies, No nymph or Goddess in the skies; And none to rival her would dare 'Mid dames who part the long black hair. That hero in the wood beguile, And steal his lovely spouse the while. Reft of his darling wife, be sure, Brief days the mourner will endure."

With flattering hope of triumph moved The giant king that plan approved, Pondered the counsel in his breast, And then Akampan thus addressed: "Forth in my car I go at morn, None but the driver with me borne, And this fair Sita will I bring Back to my city triumphing."

Forth in his car by asses drawn The giant monarch sped at dawn, Bright as the sun, the chariot cast Light through the sky as on it passed. Then high in air that best of cars Traversed the path of lunar stars, Sending a fitful radiance pale As moonbeams shot through cloudy veil. Far on his airy way he flew: Near Tadakeya's(483) grove he drew. Maricha welcomed him, and placed Before him food which giants taste, With honour led him to a seat, And brought him water for his feet; And then with timely words addressed Such question to his royal guest:

"Speak, is it well with thee whose sway The giant multitudes obey? I know not all, and ask in fear The cause, O King, why thou art here."

Rava, the giants' mighty king, Heard wise Maricha's questioning, And told with ready answer, taught In eloquence, the cause he sought: "My guards, the bravest of my band, Are slain by Rama's vigorous hand, And Janasthan, that feared no hate Of foes, is rendered desolate. Come, aid me in the plan I lay To steal the conqueror's wife away."

Maricha heard the king's request, And thus the giant chief addressed:

"What foe in friendly guise is he Who spoke of Sita's name to thee? Who is the wretch whose thought would bring Destruction on the giants' king? Whose is the evil counsel, say, That bids thee bear his wife away, And careless of thy life provoke Earth's loftiest with threatening stroke? A foe is he who dared suggest This hopeless folly to thy breast, Whose ill advice would bid thee draw The venomed fang from serpent's jaw. By whose unwise suggestion led Wilt thou the path of ruin tread? Whence falls the blow that would destroy Thy gentle sleep of ease and joy? Like some wild elephant is he That rears his trunk on high, Lord of an ancient pedigree, Huge tusks, and furious eye. Ravan, no rover of the night With bravest heart can brook, Met in the front of deadly fight, On Raghu's son to look. The giant hosts were brave and strong, Good at the bow and spear: But Rama slew the routed throng, A lion 'mid the deer. No lion's tooth can match his sword, Or arrows fiercely shot: He sleeps, he sleeps—the lion lord; Be wise and rouse him not. O Monarch of the giants, well Upon my counsel think, Lest thou for ever in the hell Of Rama's vengeance sink: A hell, where deadly shafts are sent From his tremendous-bow, While his great arms all flight prevent, Like deepest mire below: Where the wild floods of battle rave Above the foeman's head, And each with many a feathery wave Of shafts is garlanded. O, quench the flames that in thy breast With raging fury burn; And pacified and self-possessed To Lanka's town return. Rest thou in her imperial bowers With thine own wives content, And in the wood let Rama's hours With Sita still be spent."

The lord of Lanka's isle obeyed The counsel, and his purpose stayed. Borne on his car he parted thence And gained his royal residence.



Canto XXXII. Ravan Roused.

But Surpanakha saw the plain Spread with the fourteen thousand slain, Doers of cruel deeds o'erthrown By Rama's mighty arm alone, Add Trisiras and Dushan dead, And Khara, with the hosts they led. Their death she saw, and mad with pain, Roared like a cloud that brings the rain, And fled in anger and dismay To Lanka, seat of Ravan's sway. There on a throne of royal state Exalted sat the potentate, Begirt with counsellor and peer, Like Indra with the Storm Gods near. Bright as the sun's full splendour shone The glorious throne he sat upon, As when the blazing fire is red Upon a golden altar fed. Wide gaped his mouth at every breath, Tremendous as the jaws of Death. With him high saints of lofty thought, Gandharvas, Gods, had vainly fought. The wounds were on his body yet From wars where Gods and demons met. And scars still marked his ample chest By fierce Airavat's(484) tusk impressed. A score of arms, ten necks, had he, His royal gear was brave to see. His massive form displayed each sign That marks the heir of kingly line. In stature like a mountain height, His arms were strong, his teeth were white, And all his frame of massive mould Seemed lazulite adorned with gold. A hundred seams impressed each limp Where Vishnu's arm had wounded him, And chest and shoulder bore the print Of sword and spear and arrow dint, Where every God had struck a blow In battle with the giant foe. His might to wildest rage could wake The sea whose faith naught else can shake, Hurl towering mountains to the earth, And crush e'en foes of heavenly birth. The bonds of law and right he spurned: To others' wives his fancy turned. Celestial arms he used in fight, And loved to mar each holy rite. He went to Bhogavati's town,(485) Where Vasuki was beaten down, And stole, victorious in the strife, Lord Takshaka's beloved wife. Kailasa's lofty crest he sought, And when in vain Kuvera fought, Stole Pushpak thence, the car that through The air, as willed the master, flew. Impelled by furious anger, he Spoiled Nandan's(486) shade and Nalini, And Chaitraratha's heavenly grove, The haunts where Gods delight to rove. Tall as a hill that cleaves the sky, He raised his mighty arms on high To check the blessed moon, and stay The rising of the Lord of Day. Ten thousand years the giant spent On dire austerities intent, And of his heads an offering, laid Before the Self-existent, made. No God or fiend his life could take, Gandharva, goblin, bird, or snake: Safe from all fears of death, except From human arm, that life was kept. Oft when the priests began to raise Their consecrating hymns of praise, He spoiled the Soma's sacred juice Poured forth by them in solemn use. The sacrifice his hands o'erthrew, And cruelly the Brahmans slew. His was a heart that naught could melt, Joying in woes which others felt.

She saw the ruthless monster there, Dread of the worlds, unused to spare. In robes of heavenly texture dressed, Celestial wreaths adorned his breast. He sat a shape of terror, like Destruction ere the worlds it strike. She saw him in his pride of place, The joy of old Pulastya's(487) race, Begirt by counsellor and peer, Ravan, the foeman's mortal fear, And terror in her features shown, The giantess approached the throne. Then Surpanakha bearing yet Each deeply printed trace Where the great-hearted chief had set A mark upon her face, Impelled by terror and desire, Still fierce, no longer bold, To Ravan of the eyes of fire Her tale, infuriate, told.



Canto XXXIII. Surpanakha's Speech.

Burning with anger, in the ring Of counsellors who girt their king, To Ravan, ravener of man, With bitter words she thus began:

"Wilt thou absorbed in pleasure, still Pursue unchecked thy selfish will: Nor turn thy heedless eyes to see The coming fate which threatens thee? The king who days and hours employs In base pursuit of vulgar joys Must in his people's sight be vile As fire that smokes on funeral pile. He who when duty calls him spares No time for thought of royal cares, Must with his realm and people all Involved in fatal ruin fall. As elephants in terror shrink From the false river's miry brink, Thus subjects from a monarch flee Whose face their eyes may seldom see, Who spends the hours for toil ordained In evil courses unrestrained. He who neglects to guard and hold His kingdom by himself controlled, Sinks nameless like a hill whose head Is buried in the ocean's bed. Thy foes are calm and strong and wise, Fiends, Gods, and warriors of the skies,— How, heedless, wicked, weak, and vain, Wilt thou thy kingly state maintain? Thou, lord of giants, void of sense, Slave of each changing influence, Heedless of all that makes a king, Destruction on thy head wilt bring. O conquering chief, the prince, who boasts, Of treasury and rule and hosts, By others led, though lord of all, Is meaner than the lowest thrall. For this are monarchs said to be Long-sighted, having power to see Things far away by faithful eyes Of messengers and loyal spies. But aid from such thou wilt not seek: Thy counsellors are blind and weak, Or thou from these hadst surely known Thy legions and thy realm o'erthrown. Know, twice seven thousand, fierce in might, Are slain by Rama in the fight, And they, the giant host who led, Khara and Dushan, both are dead. Know, Rama with his conquering arm Has freed the saints from dread of harm, Has smitten Janasthan and made Asylum safe in Dandak's shade. Enslaved and dull, of blinded sight, Intoxicate with vain delight, Thou closest still thy heedless eyes To dangers in thy realm that rise. A king besotted, mean, unkind, Of niggard hand and slavish mind. Will find no faithful followers heed Their master in his hour of need. The friend on whom he most relies, In danger, from a monarch flies, Imperious in his high estate, Conceited, proud, and passionate; Who ne'er to state affairs attends With wholesome fear when woe impends Most weak and worthless as the grass, Soon from his sway the realm will pass. For rotting wood a use is found, For clods and dust that strew the ground, But when a king has lost his sway, Useless he falls, and sinks for aye. As raiment by another worn, As faded garland crushed and torn, So is, unthroned, the proudest king, Though mighty once, a useless thing. But he who every sense subdues And each event observant views, Rewards the good and keeps from wrong, Shall reign secure and flourish long. Though lulled in sleep his senses lie He watches with a ruler's eye, Untouched by favour, ire, and hate, And him the people celebrate. O weak of mind, without a trace Of virtues that a king should grace, Who hast not learnt from watchful spy That low in death the giants lie. Scorner of others, but enchained By every base desire, By thee each duty is disdained Which time and place require. Soon wilt thou, if thou canst not learn, Ere yet it be too late, The good from evil to discern, Fall from thy high estate." As thus she ceased not to upbraid The king with cutting speech, And every fault to view displayed, Naming and marking each, The monarch of the sons of night, Of wealth and power possessed, And proud of his imperial might, Long pondered in his breast.



Canto XXXIV. Surpanakha's Speech.

Then forth the giant's fury broke As Surpanakha harshly spoke. Girt by his lords the demon king Looked on her, fiercely questioning:

"Who is this Rama, whence, and where? His form, his might, his deeds declare. His wandering steps what purpose led To Dandak forest, hard to tread? What arms are his that he could smite In fray the rovers of the night, And Trisiras and Dushan lay Low on the earth, and Khara slay? Tell all, my sister, and declare Who maimed thee thus, of form most fair."

Thus by the giant king addressed, While burnt her fury unrepressed, The giantess declared at length The hero's form and deeds and strength:

"Long are his arms and large his eyes: A black deer's skin his dress supplies. King Dasaratha's son is he, Fair as Kandarpa's self to see. Adorned with many a golden band, A bow, like Indra's, arms his hand, And shoots a flood of arrows fierce As venomed snakes to burn and pierce. I looked, I looked, but never saw His mighty hand the bowstring draw That sent the deadly arrows out, While rang through air his battle-shout. I looked, I looked, and saw too well How with that hail the giants fell, As falls to earth the golden grain, Struck by the blows of Indra's rain. He fought, and twice seven thousand, all Terrific giants, strong and tall, Fell by the pointed shafts o'erthrown Which Rama shot on foot, alone. Three little hours had scarcely fled,— Khara and Dushan both were dead, And he had freed the saints and made Asylum sure in Dandak's shade. Me of his grace the victor spared, Or I the giants' fate had shared. The high-souled Rama would not deign His hand with woman's blood to stain. The glorious Lakshman, justly dear, In gifts and warrior might his peer, Serves his great brother with the whole Devotion of his faithful soul: Impetuous victor, bold and wise, First in each hardy enterprise, Still ready by his side to stand, A second self or better hand. And Rama has a large-eyed spouse, Pure as the moon her cheek and brows, Dearer than life in Rama's sight, Whose happiness is her delight. With beauteous hair and nose the dame From head to foot has naught to blame. She shines the wood's bright Goddess, Queen Of beauty with her noble mien. First in the ranks of women placed Is Sita of the dainty waist. In all the earth mine eyes have ne'er Seen female form so sweetly fair. Goddess nor nymph can vie with her, Nor bride of heavenly chorister. He who might call this dame his own, Her eager arms about him thrown, Would live more blest in Sita's love Than Indra in the world above. She, peerless in her form and face And rich in every gentle grace, Is worthy bride, O King, for thee, As thou art meet her lord to be. I even I, will bring the bride In triumph to her lover's side— This beauty fairer than the rest, With rounded limb and heaving breast. Each wound upon my face I owe To cruel Lakshman's savage blow. But thou, O brother, shalt survey Her moonlike loveliness to-day, And Kama's piercing shafts shall smite Thine amorous bosom at the sight. If in thy breast the longing rise To make thine own the beauteous prize, Up, let thy better foot begin The journey and the treasure win. If, giant Lord, thy favouring eyes Regard the plan which I advise, Up, cast all fear and doubt away And execute the words I say Come, giant King, this treasure seek, For thou art strong and they are weak. Let Sita of the faultless frame Be borne away and be thy dame. Thy host in Janasthan who dwelt Forth to the battle hied. And by the shafts which Rama dealt They perished in their pride. Dushan and Khara breathe no more, Laid low upon the plain. Arise, and ere the day be o'er Take vengeance for the slain."



Canto XXXV. Ravan's Journey.

When Ravan, by her fury spurred, That terrible advice had heard, He bade his nobles quit his side, And to the work his thought applied. He turned his anxious mind to scan On every side the hardy plan: The gain against the risk he laid, Each hope and fear with care surveyed, And in his heart at length decreed To try performance of the deed. Then steady in his dire intent The giant to the courtyard went. There to his charioteer he cried, "Bring forth the car whereon I ride." Aye ready at his master's word The charioteer the order heard, And yoked with active zeal the best Of chariots at his lord's behest. Asses with heads of goblins drew That wondrous car where'er it flew. Obedient to the will it rolled Adorned with gems and glistering gold. Then mounting, with a roar as loud As thunder from a labouring cloud, The mighty monarch to the tide Of Ocean, lord of rivers, hied. White was the shade above him spread, White chouris waved around his head, And he with gold and jewels bright Shone like the glossy lazulite. Ten necks and twenty arms had he: His royal gear was good to see. The heavenly Gods' insatiate foe, Who made the blood of hermits flow, He like the Lord of Hills appeared With ten huge heads to heaven upreared. In the great car whereon he rode, Like some dark cloud the giant showed, When round it in their close array The cranes 'mid wreaths of lightning play. He looked, and saw, from realms of air, The rocky shore of ocean, where Unnumbered trees delightful grew With flower and fruit of every hue. He looked on many a lilied pool With silvery waters fresh and cool, And shores like spacious altars meet For holy hermits' lone retreat. The graceful palm adorned the scene, The plantain waved her glossy green. There grew the sal and betel, there On bending boughs the flowers were fair. There hermits dwelt who tamed each sense By strictest rule of abstinence: Gandharvas, Kinnars,(488) thronged the place, Nagas and birds of heavenly race. Bright minstrels of the ethereal quire, And saints exempt from low desire, With Ajas, sons of Brahma's line, Marichipas of seed divine, Vaikhanasas and Mashas strayed, And Balakhilyas(489) in the shade. The lovely nymphs of heaven were there, Celestial wreaths confined their hair, And to each form new grace was lent By wealth of heavenly ornament. Well skilled was each in play and dance And gentle arts of dalliance. The glorious wife of many a God Those beautiful recesses trod, There Gods and Danavs, all who eat The food of heaven, rejoiced to meet. The swan and Saras thronged each bay With curlews, ducks, and divers gay, Where the sea spray rose soft and white O'er rocks of glossy lazulite. As his swift way the fiend pursued Pale chariots of the Gods he viewed, Bearing each lord whose rites austere Had raised him to the heavenly sphere. Thereon celestial garlands hung, There music played and songs were sung. Then bright Gandharvas met his view, And heavenly nymphs, as on he flew. He saw the sandal woods below, And precious trees of odorous flow, That to the air around them lent Their riches of delightful scent; Nor failed his roving eye to mark Tall aloe trees in grove and park. He looked on wood with cassias filled, And plants which balmy sweets distilled, Where her fair flowers the betel showed And the bright pods of pepper glowed. The pearls in many a silvery heap Lay on the margin of the deep. And grey rocks rose amid the red Of coral washed from ocean's bed. High soared the mountain peaks that bore Treasures of gold and silver ore, And leaping down the rocky walls Came wild and glorious waterfalls. Fair towns which grain and treasure held, And dames who every gem excelled, He saw outspread beneath him far, With steed, and elephant, and car. That ocean shore he viewed that showed Fair as the blessed Gods' abode Where cool delightful breezes played O'er levels in the freshest shade. He saw a fig-tree like a cloud With mighty branches earthward bowed. It stretched a hundred leagues and made For hermit bands a welcome shade. Thither the feathered king of yore An elephant and tortoise bore, And lighted on a bough to eat The captives of his taloned feet. The bough unable to sustain The crushing weight and sudden strain, Loaded with sprays and leaves of spring Gave way beneath the feathered king. Under the shadow of the tree Dwelt many a saint and devotee, Ajas, the sons of Brahma's line, Mashas, Marichipas divine. Vaikhanasas, and all the race Of Balakhilyas, loved the place. But pitying their sad estate The feathered monarch raised the weight Of the huge bough, and bore away The loosened load and captured prey. A hundred leagues away he sped, Then on his monstrous booty fed, And with the bough he smote the lands Where dwell the wild Nishada bands. High joy was his because his deed From jeopardy the hermits freed. That pride for great deliverance wrought A double share of valour brought. His soul conceived the high emprise To snatch the Amrit from the skies. He rent the nets of iron first, Then through the jewel chamber burst, And bore the drink of heaven away That watched in Indra's palace lay.