Then, turning to a Rakshas slave, The ruthless king his mandate gave, And straight Vidyujjihva who bore The head still wet with dripping gore, The arrows and the mighty bow, Bent down before his master low. "Vidyujjihva," cried Ravan, "place The head before the lady's face, And let her see with weeping eyes That low in death her husband lies."

Before the queen the giant laid The beauteous head his art had made. And Ravan cried: "Thine eyes will know These arrows and the mighty bow. With fame of this by Rama strung The earth and heaven and hell have rung. Prahasta brought it hither when His hand had slain thy prince of men. Now, widowed Queen, thy hopes resign: Forget thy husband and be mine."



Canto XXXII. Sita's Lament.

Again her eyes with tears o'erflowed: She gazed upon the head he showed, Gazed on the bow so famed of yore, The glorious bow which Rama bore. She gazed upon his cheek and brows, The eyes of her beloved spouse; His lips, the lustre of his hair, The priceless gem that glittered there. The features of her lord she knew, And, pierced with anguish at the view, She lifted up her voice and cried: "Kaikeyi, art thou satisfied? Now all thy longings are fulfilled; The joy of Raghu's race is killed, And ruined is the ancient line, Destroyer, by that fraud of thine. Ah, what offence, O cruel dame, What fault in Rama couldst thou blame, To drive him clad in hermit dress With Sita to the wilderness?"

Great trembling seized her frame, and she Fell like a stricken plantain tree. As lie the dead she lay; at length Slowly regaining sense and strength, On the dear head she fixed her eye And cried with very bitter cry: "Ah, when thy cold dead cheek I view, My hero, I am murdered too. Then first a faithful woman's eyes See sorrow, when her husband dies. When thou, my lord, wast nigh to save, Some stealthy hand thy death wound gave. Thou art not dead: rise, hero, rise; Long life was thine, as spake the wise Whose words, I ween, are ever true, For faith lies open to their view. Ah lord, and shall thy head recline On earth's cold breast, forsaking mine, Counting her chill lap dearer far Than I and my caresses are? Ah, is it thus these eyes behold Thy famous bow adorned with gold, Whereon of yore I loved to bind Sweet garlands that my hands had twined? And hast thou sought in heaven a place Amid the founders of thy race, Where in the home deserved so well Thy sires and Dasaratha dwell? Or dost thou shine a brighter star In skies where blest immortals are, Forsaking in thy lofty scorn The race wherein thy sires were born? Turn to my gaze, O turn thine eye: Why are thy cold lips silent, why? When first we met as youth and maid, When in thy hand my hand was laid, Thy promise was thy steps should be Through life in duty's path with me. Remember, faithful still, thy vow, And take me with thee even now. Is that broad bosom where I hung, That neck to which I fondly clung, Where flowery garlands breathed their scent By hungry dogs and vultures rent? Shall no funereal honours grace The parted lord of Raghu's race, Whose bounty liberal fees bestowed, For whom the fires of worship glowed? Kausalya wild with grief will see One sole survivor of the three Who in their hermit garments went To the dark woods in banishment. Then at her cry shall Lakshman tell How, slain by night, the Vanars fell; How to thy side the giants crept, And slew the hero as he slept. Thy fate and mine the queen will know, And broken-hearted die of woe. For my unworthy sake, for mine, Rama, the glory of his line, Who bridged his way across the main, Is basely in a puddle slain; And I, the graceless wife he wed, Have brought this ruin on his head. Me, too, on him, O Ravan, slay: The wife beside her husband lay. By his dear body let me rest, Cheek close to cheek and breast to breast, My happy eyes I then will close, And follow whither Rama goes."

Thus cried the miserable dame; When to the king a warder came, Before the giant monarch bowed And said that, followed by a crowd Of counsellors and lords of state, Prahasta stood before the gate, And, sent by some engrossing care, Craved audience of his master there. The anxious tyrant left his seat And hastened forth the chief to meet: Then summoning his nobles all, Took counsel in his regal hall.

When Lanka's lord had left the queen, The head and bow no more were seen. The giant king his nobles eyed, And, terrible as Yama, cried: "O faithful lords, the time is come: Gather our hosts with beat of drum. Nigh to the town our foeman draws: Be prudent, nor reveal the cause."

The nobles listened and obeyed: Swift were the gathered troops arrayed, And countless rovers of the night Stood burning for the hour of fight.



Canto XXXIII. Sarama.

But Sarama, of gentler mood, With pitying eyes the mourner viewed, Stole to her side and softly told Glad tidings that her heart consoled, Revealing with sweet voice and smile The secret of the giant's guile. She, one of those who night and day Watching in turns by Sita lay, Though Rakshas born felt pity's touch, And loved the hapless lady much.

"I heard," she said, "thy bitter cry, Heard Ravan's speech and thy reply, For, hiding in the thicket near, No word or tone escaped mine ear. When Ravan hastened forth I bent My steps to follow as he went, And learnt the secret cause that drove The monarch from the Asoka grove. Believe me, Queen, thou needst not weep For Rama slaughtered in his sleep. Thy lion lord of men defies By day attack, by night surprise. Can even giants slay with ease Vast hosts who fight with brandished trees, For whom, with eye that never sleeps, His constant watch thy Rama keeps? Lord of the mighty arm and chest, Of earthly warriors first and best, Whose fame through all the regions rings, Proud scion of a hundred kings; Who guards his life and loves to lend His saving succour to a friend: Whose bow no hand but his can strain,— Thy lord, thy Rama is not slain. Obedient to his master's will, A great magician, trained in ill, With deftest art surpassing thought That marvellous illusion wrought. Let rising hope thy grief dispel: Look up and smile, for all is well, And gentle Lakshmi, Fortune's Queen, Regards thee with a favouring mien. Thy Rama with his Vanar train Has thrown a bridge athwart the main, Has led his countless legions o'er, And ranged them on this southern shore. These eyes have seen the hero stand Girt by his hosts on Lanka's strand, And breathless spies each moment bring Fresh tidings to the giant king; And every peer and lord of state Is called to counsel and debate."

She ceased: the sound, long loud and clear, Of gathering armies smote her ear, Where call of drum and shell rang out, The tambour and the battle shout; And, while the din the echoes woke, Again to Janak's child she spoke: "Hear, lady, hear the loud alarms That call the Rakshas troops to arms, From stable and from stall they lead The elephant and neighing steed, Brace harness on with deftest care, And chariots for the fight prepare. Swift o'er the trembling ground career Mailed horsemen armed with axe and spear, And here and there in road and street The terrible battalions meet. I hear the gathering near and far, The snorting steed, the rattling car. Bold chieftains, leaders of the brave, Press densely on, like wave on wave, And bright the evening sunbeams glance On helm and shield, on sword and lance. Hark, lady, to the ringing steel, Hark to the rolling chariot wheel: Hark to the mettled courser's neigh And drums' loud thunder far away. The Queen of Fortune holds thee dear, For Lanka's troops are struck with fear, And Rama with the lotus eyes, Like Indra monarch of the skies, With conquering arm will slay his foe And free his lady from her woe. Soon will his breast support thy head, And tears of joy thine eyes will shed. Soon by his mighty arm embraced The long-lost rapture wilt thou taste, And Rama, meet for highest bliss, Will gain his guerdon in thy kiss."



Canto XXXIV. Sarama's Tidings.

Thus Sarama her story told: And Sita's spirit was consoled, As when the first fresh rain is shed The parching earth is comforted. Then, filled with zeal for Sita's sake, Again in gentle tones she spake, And, skilled in arts that soothe and please, Addressed the queen in words like these: "Thy husband, lady, will I seek, Say the fond words thy lips would speak, And then, unseen of any eye, Back to thy side will swiftly fly. My airy flights are speedier far Than Garuda's and the tempest are."

Then Sita spake: her former woe Still left her accents faint and low: "I know thy steps, which naught can stay, Can urge through heaven and hell their way. Then if thy love and changeless will Would serve the helpless captive still, Go forth and learn each plot and guile Planned by the lord of Lanka's isle. With magic art like maddening wine He cheats these weeping eyes of mine, Torments me with his suit, nor spares Reproof or flattery, threats or prayers. These guards surround me night and day; My heart is sad, my senses stray; And helpless in my woe I fear The tyrant Ravan even here."

Then Sarama replied: "I go To learn the purpose of thy foe, Soon by thy side again to stand And tell thee what the king has planned." She sped, she heard with eager ears The tyrant speak his hopes and fears, Where, gathered at their master's call, The nobles filled the council hall; Then swiftly, to her promise true, Back to the Asoka grove she flew. The lady on the grassy ground, Longing for her return, she found; Who with a gentle smile, to greet The envoy, led her to a seat. Through her worn frame a shiver ran As Sarama her tale began: "There stood the royal mother: she Besought her son to set thee free, And to her counsel, tears and prayers, The elder nobles added theirs: "O be the Maithil queen restored With honour to her angry lord, Let Janasthan's unhappy fight Be witness of the hero's might. Hanuman o'er the waters came And looked upon the guarded dame. Let Lanka's chiefs who fought and fell The prowess of the leader tell." In vain they sued, in vain she wept, His purpose still unchanged he kept, As clings the miser to his gold, He would not loose thee from his hold. No, never till in death he lies, Will Lanka's lord release his prize. Soon slain by Rama's arrows all The giants with their king will fall, And Rama to his home will lead His black-eyed queen from bondage freed."

An awful sound that moment rose From Lanka's fast-approaching foes, Where drum and shell in mingled peal Made earth in terror rock and reel. The hosts within the walls arrayed Stood trembling, in their hearts dismayed; Thought of the tempest soon to burst, And Lanka's lord, their ruin, cursed.



Canto XXXV. Malyavan's Speech.

The fearful notes of drum and shell Upon the ear of Ravan fell. One moment quailed his haughty look, One moment in his fear he shook, But soon recalling wonted pride, His counsellors he sternly eyed, And with a voice that thundered through The council hall began anew: "Lords, I have heard—your tongues have told— How Raghu's son is fierce and bold. To Lanka's shore has bridged his way And hither leads his wild array. I know your might, in battle tried, Fighting and conquering by my side. Why now, when such a foe is near, Looks eye to eye in silent fear?"

He ceased, his mother's sire well known For wisdom in the council shown, Malyavan, sage and faithful guide. Thus to the monarch's speech replied: "Long reigns the king in safe repose, Unmoved by fear of vanquished foes, Whose feet by saving knowledge led In justice path delight to tread: Who knows to sheath the sword or wield, To order peace, to strike or yield: Prefers, when foes are stronger, peace, And bids a doubtful conflict cease. Now, King, the choice before thee lies, Make peace with Rama, and be wise. This day the captive queen restore Who brings the foe to Lanka's shore. The Sire by whom the worlds are swayed Of yore the Gods and demons made. With these Injustice sided; those Fair Justice for her champions chose. Still Justice dwells with Gods above; Injustice, fiends and giants love. Thou, through the worlds that fear thee, long Hast scorned the right and loved the wrong, And Justice, with thy foes allied, Gives might resistless to their side. Thou, guided by thy wicked will, Hast found delight in deeds of ill, And sages in their holy rest Have trembled, by thy power oppressed. But they, who check each vain desire, Are clothed with might which burns like fire. In them the power and glory live Which zeal and saintly fervour give. Their constant task, their sole delight Is worship and each holy rite, To chant aloud the Veda hymn, Nor let the sacred fires grow dim. Now through the air like thunder ring The echoes of the chants they sing. The vapours of their incense rise And veil with cloudy pall the skies, And Rakshas might grows weak and faint Killed by the power of sage and saint. By Brahma's boon thy life was screened From God, Gandharva, Yaksha, fiend; But Vanars, men, and bears, arrayed Against thee now, thy shores invade. Red meteors, heralds of despair Flash frequent through the lurid air, Foretelling to my troubled mind The ruin of the Rakshas kind. With awful thundering overhead Clouds black as night are densely spread, And oozing from the gloomy pall Great drops of blood on Lanka fall. Dogs roam through house and shrine to steal The sacred oil and curd and meal, Cats pair with tigers, hounds with swine, And asses' foals are born of kine. In these and countless signs I trace The ruin of the giant race. 'Tis Vishnu's self who comes to storm Thy city, clothed in Rama's form; For, well I ween, no mortal hand The ocean with a bridge has spanned. O giant King, the dame release, And sue to Raghu's son for peace"



Canto XXXVI. Ravan's Reply.

But Ravan's breast with fury swelled, And thus he spake by Death impelled, While, under brows in anger bent, Fierce glances from his eyes were sent: "The bitter words which thou, misled By friendly thought, hast fondly said, Which praise the foe and counsel fear, Unheeded fall upon mine ear. How canst thou deem a mighty foe This Rama who, in stress of woe, Seeks, banished as his sire decreed, Assistance from the Vanar breed? Am I so feeble in thine eyes, Though feared by dwellers of the skies,— Whose might in many a battle shown The glorious race of giants own? Shall I for fear of him restore The lady whom I hither bore, Exceeding fair like Beauty's Queen(944) Without her well-loved lotus seen? Around the chief let Lakshman stand, Sugriva, and each Vanar band, Soon, Malyavan, thine eyes will see This boasted Rama slain by me. I in the brunt of war defy The mightiest warriors of the sky; And if I stoop to combat men, Shall I be weak and tremble then? This mangled trunk the foe may rend, But Ravan ne'er can yield or bend, And be it vice or virtue, I This nature never will belie. What marvel if he bridged the sea? Why should this deed disquiet thee? This, only this, I surely know, Back with his life he shall not go."

Thus in loud tones the king exclaimed, And mute stood Malyavan ashamed, His reverend head he humbly bent, And slowly to his mansion went. But Ravan stayed, and deep in care Held counsel with his nobles there, All entrance to secure and close, And guard the city from their foes. He bade the chief Prahasta wait, Commander at the eastern gate, To fierce Mahodar, strong and brave, To keep the southern gate, he gave, Where Mahaparsva's might should aid The chieftain with his hosts arrayed. To guard the west—no chief more fit— He placed the warrior Indrajit, His son, the giant's joy and boast, Surrounded by a Rakshas host: And mighty Saran hastened forth With Suka to protect the north.(945) "I will myself," the monarch cried, "Be present on the northern side." These orders for the walls' defence The tyrant gave, then parted thence, And, by the hope of victory fired, To chambers far within, retired.



Canto XXXVII. Preparations.

Lords of the legions of the wood, The chieftains with Vibhishan stood, And, strangers in the foeman's land, Their hopes and fears in council scanned:

"See, see where Lanka's towers ascend, Which Ravan's power and might defend, Which Gods, Gandharvas, fiends would fail To conquer, if they durst assail. How shall our legions pass within, The city of the foe to win, With massive walls and portals barred Which Ravan keeps with surest guard?" With anxious looks the walls they eyed: And sage Vibhishan thus replied: "These lords of mine(946) can answer: they Within the walls have found their way, The foeman's plan and order learned, And hither to my side returned. Now, Rama, let my tongue declare How Ravan's hosts are stationed there. Prahasta heads, in warlike state, His legions at the eastern gate. To guard the southern portal stands Mahodar, girt by Rakshas bands, Where mighty Mahaparsva, sent By Ravan's hest, his aid has lent. Guard of the gate that fronts the west Is valiant Indrajit, the best Of warriors, Ravan's joy and pride; And by the youthful chieftain's side Are giants, armed for fierce attacks With sword and mace and battle-axe. North, where approach is dreaded most, The king, encompassed with a host Of giants trained in war, whose hands Wield maces, swords and lances, stands. All these are chiefs whom Ravan chose As mightiest to resist his foes; And each a countless army(947) leads With elephants and cars and steeds."

Then Rama, while his spirit burned For battle, words like these returned: "The eastern gate be Nila's care, Opponent of Prahasta there. The southern gate, with troops arrayed Let Angad, Bali's son, invade. The gate that fronts the falling sun Shall be by brave Hanuman won; Soon through its portals shall he lead His myriads of Vanar breed. The gate that fronts the north shall be Assailed by Lakshman and by me, For I myself have sworn to kill The tyrant who delights in ill. Armed with the boon which Brahma gave, The Gods of heaven he loves to brave, And through the trembling worlds he flies, Oppressor of the just and wise. Thou, Jambavan, and thou, O King Of Vanars, all your bravest bring, And with your hosts in dense array Straight to the centre force your way. But let no Vanar in the storm Disguise him in a human form, Ye chiefs who change your shapes at will, Retain your Vanar semblance still. Thus, when we battle with the foe, Both men and Vanars will ye know, In human form will seven appear; Myself, my brother Lakshman here; Vibhishan, and the four he led From Lanka's city when he fled."

Thus Raghu's son the chiefs addressed: Then, gazing on Suvela's crest, Transported by the lovely sight, He longed to climb the mountain height.



Canto XXXVIII. The Ascent Of Suvela.

"Come let us scale," the hero cried, "This hill with various metals dyed. This night upon the breezy crest Sugriva, Lakshman, I, will rest, With sage Vibhishan, faithful friend, His counsel and his lore to lend. From those tall peaks each eager eye The foeman's city shall espy, Who from the wood my darling stole And brought long anguish on my soul."

Thus spake the lord of men, and bent His footsteps to the steep ascent, And Lakshman, true in weal and woe, Next followed with his shafts and bow. Vibhishan followed, next in place, The sovereign of the Vanar race, And hundreds of the forest kind Thronged with impetuous feet, behind. The chiefs in woods and mountains bred Fast followed to Suvela's head, And gazed on Lanka bright and fair As some gay city in the air. On glittering gates, on ramparts raised By giant hands, the chieftains gazed. They saw the mighty hosts that, skilled In arts of war, the city filled, And ramparts with new ramparts lined, The swarthy hosts that stood behind. With spirits burning for the fight They saw the giants from the height, And from a hundred throats rang out Defiance and the battle shout. Then sank the sun with dying flame, And soft the shades of twilight came, And the full moon's delicious light Was shed upon the tranquil night.



Canto XXXIX. Lanka.

They slept secure: the sun arose And called the chieftains from repose. Before the wondering Vanars, gay With grove and garden, Lanka lay, Where golden buds the Champak showed, And bright with bloom Asoka glowed, And palm and Sal and many a tree With leaf and flower were fair to see. They looked on wood and lawn and glade, On emerald grass and dusky shade, Where creepers filled the air with scent, And luscious fruit the branches bent, Where bees inebriate loved to throng, And each sweet bird was loud in song. The wondering Vanars passed the bound That circled that enchanting ground, And as they came a sweet breeze through The odorous alleys softly blew. Some Vanars, at their king's behest, Onward to bannered Lanka pressed, While, startled by the strangers' tread, The birds and deer before them fled. Earth trembled at each step they took, And Lanka at their shouting shook. Bright rose before their wondering eyes Trikuta's peak that kissed the skies, And, clothed with flowers of every hue, Afar its golden radiance threw. Most fair to see the mountain's head A hundred leagues in length was spread. There Ravan's town, securely placed, The summit of Trikuta graced. O'er leagues of land she stretched in pride, A hundred long and twenty wide. They saw a lofty wall enfold The city, built of blocks of gold, They saw the beams of morning fall On dome and fane within the wall, Bright with the shine that mansion gives Where Vishnu in his glory lives. White-crested like the Lord of Snows Before them Ravan's palace rose. High on a thousand pillars raised With gold and precious stone it blazed, Guarded by giant warders, crown And ornament of Lanka's town.



Canto XL. Ravan Attacked.

Still stood the son of Raghu where Suvela's peak rose high in air, And with Sugriva turned his eye To scan each quarter of the sky. There on Trikuta, nobly planned And built by Visvakarma's hand, He saw the lovely Lanka, dressed In all her varied beauty, rest. High on a tower above the gate The tyrant stood in kingly state. The royal canopy displayed Above him lent its grateful shade, And servants, from the giant band, His cheek with jewelled chowries fanned. Red sandal o'er his breast was spread, His ornaments and robe were red: Thus shows a cloud of darksome hue With golden sunbeams flashing through. While Rama and the chiefs intent Upon the king their glances bent, Up sprang Sugriva from the ground And reached the turret at a bound. Unterrified the Vanar stood, And wroth, with wondrous hardihood, The king in bitter words addressed, And thus his scorn and hate expressed:

"King of the giant race, in me The friend and slave of Rama see. Lord of the world, he gives me power To smite thee in thy fenced tower." While through the air his challenge rang, At Ravan's face the Vanar sprang. Snatched from his head the kingly crown And dashed it in his fury down. Straight at his foe the giant flew, His mighty arms about him threw. With strength resistless swung him round And dashed him panting to the ground. Unharmed amid the storm of blows Swift to his feet Sugriva rose. Again in furious fight they met: With streams of blood their limbs were wet, Each grasping his opponent's waist. Thus with their branches interlaced, Which, crimson with the flowers of spring, From side to side the breezes swing, In furious wrestle you may see The Kinsuk and the Seemal tree.(948) They fought with fists and hands, alike Prepared to parry and to strike. Long time the doubtful combat, waged With matchless strength and fury, raged. Each fiercely struck, each guarded well, Till, closing, from the tower they fell, And, grasping each the other's throat, Lay for an instant in the moat. They rose, and each in fiercer mood The sanguinary strife renewed. Well matched in size and strength and skill They fought the dubious battle still. While sweat and blood their limbs bedewed They met, retreated, and pursued: Each stratagem and art they tried, Stood front to front and swerved aside. His hand a while the giant stayed And called his magic to his aid. But brave Sugriva, swift to know The guileful purpose of the foe, Gained with light leap the upper air, And breath and strength and spirit there; Then, joyous as for victory won, Returned to Raghu's royal son.



Canto XLI. Rama's Envoy.

When Rama saw each bloody trace On King Sugriva's limbs and face, He cried, while, sorrowing at the view, His arms about his friend he threw: "Too venturous chieftain, kings like us Bring not their lives in peril thus; Nor, save when counsel shows the need, Attempt so bold, so rash a deed. Remember, I, Vibhishan all Have sorrowed fearing for thy fall. O do not—for us all I speak— These desperate adventures seek." "I could not," cried Sugriva, "brook Upon the giant king to look, Nor challenge to the deadly strife The fiend who robbed thee of thy wife." "Now Lakshman, marshal," Rama cried, "Our legions where the woods are wide, And stand we ready to oppose The fury of our giant foes. This day our armies shall ascend The walls which Ravan's powers defend, And floods of Rakshas blood shall stain The streets encumbered with the slain." Down from the peak he came, and viewed The Vanars' ordered multitude. Each captain there for battle burned, Each fiery eye to Lanka turned. On, where the royal brothers led To Lanka's walls the legions sped. The northern gate, where giant foes Swarmed round their monarch, Rama chose Where he in person might direct The battle, and his troops protect. What arm but his the post might keep Where, strong as he who sways the deep,(949) Mid thousands armed with bow and mace, Stood Ravan mightiest of his race? The eastern gate was Nila's post, Where marshalled stood his Vanar host, And Mainda with his troops arrayed, And Dwivid stood to lend him aid. The southern gate was Angad's care, Who ranged his bold battalions there. Hanuman by the port that faced The setting sun his legions placed, And King Sugriva held the wood East of the gate where Ravan stood. On every side the myriads met, And Lanka's walls of close beset That scarce the roving gale could win A passage to the hosts within. Loud as the angry ocean's roar When wild waves lash the rocky shore, Ten thousand thousand throats upsent A shout that tore the firmament, And Lanka with each grove and brook And tower and wall and rampart shook. The giants heard, and were appalled: Then Raghu's son to Angad called, And, led by kingly duty,(950) gave This order merciful as brave: "Go, Angad, Ravan's presence seek, And thus my words of warning speak: "How art thou changed and fallen now, O Monarch of the giants, thou Whose impious fury would not spare Saint, nymph, or spirit of the air; Whose foot in haughty triumph trod On Yaksha, king, and Serpent God: How art thou fallen from thy pride Which Brahma's favour fortified! With myriads at thy Lanka's gate I stand my righteous ire to sate, And punish thee with sword and flame, The tyrant fiend who stole my dame. Now show the might, employ the guile, O Monarch of the giants' isle, Which stole a helpless dame away: Call up thy power and strength to-day. Once more I warn thee, Rakshas King, This hour the Maithil lady bring, And, yielding while there yet is time, Seek, suppliant, pardon for the crime, Or I will leave beneath the sun No living Rakshas, no, not one. In vain from battle wilt thou fly, Or borne on pinions seek the sky; The hand of Rama shall not spare; His fiery shaft shall smite thee there.' "

He ceased: and Angad bowed his head; Thence like embodied flame he sped, And lighted from his airy road Within the Rakshas king's abode. There sate, the centre of a ring Of counsellors, the giant king. Swift through the circle Angad pressed, And spoke with fury in his breast: "Sent by the lord of Kosal's land, His envoy here, O King, I stand, Angad the son of Bali: fame Has haply taught thine ears my name. Thus in the words of Rama I Am come to warn thee or defy: Come forth, and fighting in the van Display the spirit of a man. This arm shall slay thee, tyrant: all Thy nobles, kith and kin shall fall: And earth and heaven, from terror freed, Shall joy to see the oppressor bleed. Vibhishan, when his foe is slain, Anointed king in peace shall reign. Once more I counsel thee: repent, Avoid the mortal punishment, With honour due the dame restore, And pardon for thy sin implore."

Loud rose the king's infuriate cry: "Seize, seize the Vanar, let him die." Four of his band their lord obeyed, And eager hands on Angad laid. He purposing his strength to show Gave no resistance to the foe, But swiftly round his captors cast His mighty arms and held them fast. Fierce shout and cry around him rang: Light to the palace roof he sprang, There his detaining arms unwound, And hurled the giants to the ground. Then, smiting with a fearful stroke, A turret from the roof he broke,— As when the fiery levin sent By Indra from the clouds has rent The proud peak of the Lord of Snow,— And flung the stony mass below. Again with loud terrific cry He sprang exulting to the sky, And, joyous for his errand done, Stood by the side of Raghu's son.



Canto XLII. The Sally.

Still was the cry, "The Vanar foes Around the leaguered city close." King Ravan from the terrace gazed And saw, with eyes where fury blazed, The Vanar host in serried ranks Press to the moat and line the banks, And, first in splendour and in place, The lion lord of Raghu's race. And Rama looked on Lanka where Gay flags were streaming to the air, And, while keen sorrow pierced him through, His loving thoughts to Sita flew: "There, there in deep affliction lies My darling with the fawn-like eyes. There on the cold bare ground she keeps Sad vigil and for Rama weeps." Mad with the thought, "Charge, charge," he cried. "Let earth with Rakshas blood be dyed."

Responsive to his call rang out A loud, a universal shout, As myriads filled the moat with stone, Trees, rocks, and mountains overthrown, And charging at their leader's call Pressed forward furious to the wall. Some in their headlong ardour scaled The rampart's height, the guard assailed, And many a ponderous fragment rent From portal, tower, and battlement. Huge gates adorned with burnished gold Were loosed and lifted from their hold; And post and pillar, with a sound Like thunder, fell upon the ground. At every portal, east and west And north and south, the chieftains pressed Each in his post appointed led His myriads in the forest bred.

"Charge, let the gates be opened wide: Charge, charge, my giants," Ravan cried. They heard his voice, and loud and long Rang the wild clamour of the throng, And shell and drum their notes upsent, And every martial instrument. Forth, at the bidding of their lord From every gate the giants poured, As, when the waters rise and swell, Huge waves preceding waves impel. Again from every Vanar throat A scream of fierce defiance smote The welkin: earth and sea and sky Reechoed with the awful cry. The roar of elephants, the neigh Of horses eager for the fray. The frequent clash of warriors' steel, The rattling of the chariot wheel. Fierce was the deadly fight: opposed In terrible array they closed, As when the Gods of heaven enraged With rebel fiends wild battle waged. Axe, spear, and mace were wielded well: At every blow a Vanar fell. But shivered rock and brandished tree Brought many a giant on his knee, To perish in his turn beneath The deadly wounds of nails and teeth.



Canto XLIII. The Single Combats.

Brave chiefs of each opposing side Their strength in single combat tried. Fierce Indrajit the fight began With Angad in the battle's van. Sampati, strongest of his race, Stood with Prajangha face to face. Hanuman, Jambumali met In mortal opposition set. Vibhishan, brother of the lord Of Lanka, raised his threatening sword And singled out, with eyes aglow With wrath, Satrughna for his foe. The mighty Gaja Tapan sought, And Nila with Nikumbha fought. Sugriva, Vanar king, defied Fierce Praghas long in battle tried, And Lakshman fearless in the fight Encountered Virupaksha's might. To meet the royal Rama came Wild Agniketu fierce as flame; Mitraghana, he who loved to strike His foeman and his friend alike: With Rasmiketu, known and feared Where'er his ponderous flag was reared; And Yajnakopa whose delight Was ruin of the sacred rite. These met and fought, with thousands more, And trampled earth was red with gore. Swift as the bolt which Indra sends When fire from heaven the mountain rends Smote Indrajit with furious blows On Angad queller of his foes. But Angad from his foeman tore The murderous mace the warrior bore, And low in dust his coursers rolled, His driver, and his car of gold. Struck by the shafts Prajangha sped, The Vanar chief Sampati bled, But, heedless of his gashes he Crushed down the giant with a tree. Then car-borne Jambumali smote Hanuman on the chest and throat; But at the car the Vanar rushed, And chariot, steeds, and rider crushed. Sugriva whirled a huge tree round, And struck fierce Praghas to the ground. One arrow shot from Lakshman's bow Laid mighty Virupaksha low. His giant foes round Rama pressed And shot their shafts at head and breast; But, when the iron shower was spent, Four arrows from his bow he sent, And every missile, deftly sped; Cleft from the trunk a giant head.(951)



Canto XLIV. The Night.

The lord of Light had sunk and set: Night came; the foeman struggled yet; And fiercer for the gloom of night Grew the wild fury of the fight. Scarce could each warrior's eager eye The foeman from the friend descry. "Rakshas or Vanar? say;" cried each, And foe knew foeman by his speech. "Why wilt thou fly? O warrior, stay: Turn on the foe, and rend and slay:" Such were the cries, such words of fear Smote through the gloom each listening ear. Each swarthy rover of the night Whose golden armour flashed with light, Showed like a towering hill embraced By burning woods about his waist. The giants at the Vanars flew, And ravening ate the foes they slew: With mortal bite like serpent's fang, The Vanars at the giants sprang, And car and steeds and they who bore The pennons fell bedewed with gore. No serried band, no firm array The fury of their charge could stay. Down went the horse and rider, down Went giant lords of high renown. Though midnight's shade was dense and dark, With skill that swerved not from the mark Their bows the sons of Raghu drew, And each keen shaft a chieftain slew. Uprose the blinding dust from meads Ploughed by the cars and trampling steeds, And where the warriors fell the flood Was dark and terrible with blood. Six giants(952) singled Rama out, And charged him with a furious shout Loud as the roaring of the sea When every wind is raging free. Six times he shot: six heads were cleft; Six giants dead on earth were left. Nor ceased he yet: his bow he strained, And from the sounding weapon rained A storm of shafts whose fiery glare Filled all the region of the air; And chieftains dropped before his aim Like moths that perish in the flame. Earth glistened where the arrows fell, As shines in autumn nights a dell Which fireflies, flashing through the gloom, With momentary light illume.

But Indrajit, when Bali's son(953) The victory o'er the foe had won, Saw with a fury-kindled eye His mangled steeds and driver die; Then, lost in air, he fled the fight, And vanished from the victor's sight. The Gods and saints glad voices raised, And Angad for his virtue praised; And Raghu's sons bestowed the meed Of honour due to valorous deed.

Compelled his shattered car to quit, Rage filled the soul of Indrajit, Who brooked not, strong by Brahma's grace Defeat from one of Vanar race. In magic mist concealed from view His bow the treacherous warrior drew, And Raghu's sons were first to feel The tempest of his winged steel. Then when his arrows failed to kill The princes who defied him still, He bound them with the serpent noose,(954) The magic bond which none might loose.



Canto XLV. Indrajit's Victory.

Brave Rama, burning still to know The station of his artful foe, Gave to ten chieftains, mid the best Of all the host, his high behest. Swift rose in air the Vanar band: Each region of the sky they scanned: But Ravan's son by magic skill Checked them with arrows swifter still, When streams of blood from chest and side The dauntless Vanars' limbs had dyed, The giant in his misty shroud Showed like the sun obscured by cloud. Like serpents hissing through the air, His arrows smote the princely pair; And from their limbs at every rent A stream of rushing blood was sent. Like Kinsuk trees they stood, that show In spring their blossoms' crimson glow. Then Indrajit with fury eyed Ikshvaku's royal sons, and cried:

"Not mighty Indra can assail Or see me when I choose to veil My form in battle: and can ye, Children of earth, contend with me? The arrowy noose this hand has shot Has bound you with a hopeless knot; And, slaughtered by my shafts and bow, To Yama's hall this hour ye go."

He spoke, and shouted. Then anew The arrows from his bowstring flew, And pierced, well aimed with perfect art, Each limb and joint and vital part. Transfixed with shafts in every limb, Their strength relaxed, their eyes grew dim. As two tall standards side by side, With each sustaining rope untied, Fall levelled by the howling blast, So earth's majestic lords at last Beneath the arrowy tempest reeled, And prostrate pressed the battle field.



Canto XLVI. Indrajit's Triumph.

The Vanar chiefs whose piercing eyes Scanned eagerly the earth and skies, Saw the brave brothers wounded sore Transfixed with darts and stained with gore. The monarch of the Vanar race, With wise Vibhishan, reached the place; Angad and Nila came behind, And others of the forest kind, And standing with Hanuman there Lamented for the fallen pair. Their melancholy eyes they raised; In fruitless search a while they gazed. But magic arts Vibhishan knew; Not hidden from his keener view, Though veiled by magic from the rest, The son of Ravan stood confessed. Fierce Indrajit with savage pride The fallen sons of Raghu eyed, And every giant heart was proud As thus the warrior cried aloud:

"Slain by mine arrows Rama lies, And closed in death are Lakshman's eyes. Dead are the mighty princes who Dushan and Khara smote and slew. The Gods and fiends may toil in vain To free them from the binding chain. The haughty chief, my father's dread, Who drove him sleepless from his bed, While Lanka, troubled like a brook In rain time, heard his name and shook: He whose fierce hate our lives pursued Lies helpless by my shafts subdued. Now fruitless is each wondrous deed Wrought by the race the forests breed, And fruitless every toil at last Like cloudlets when the rains are past." Then rose the shout of giants loud As thunder from a bursting cloud, When, deeming Rama, dead, they raised Their voices and the conqueror praised.

Still motionless, as lie the slain, The brothers pressed the bloody plain, No sigh they drew, no breath they heaved, And lay as though of life bereaved. Proud of the deed his art had done, To Lanka's town went Ravan's son, Where, as he passed, all fear was stilled, And every heart with triumph filled. Sugriva trembled as he viewed Each fallen prince with blood bedewed, And in his eyes which overflowed With tears the flame of anger glowed. "Calm," cried Vibhishan, "calm thy fears, And stay the torrent of thy tears. Still must the chance of battle change, And victory still delight to range. Our cause again will she befriend And bring us triumph in the end. This is not death: each prince will break The spell that holds him, and awake; Nor long shall numbing magic bind The mighty arm, the lofty mind."

He ceased: his finger bathed in dew Across Sugriva's eyes he drew; From dulling mist his vision freed, And spoke these words to suit the need: "No time is this for fear: away With fainting heart and weak delay. Now, e'en the tear which sorrow wrings From loving eyes destruction brings. Up, on to battle at the head Of those brave troops which Rama led. Or guardian by his side remain Till sense and strength the prince regain. Soon shall the trance-bound pair revive, And from our hearts all sorrow drive. Though prostrate on the earth he lie, Deem not that Rama's death is nigh; Deem not that Lakshmi will forget Or leave her darling champion yet. Rest here and be thy heart consoled; Ponder my words, be firm and bold. I, foremost in the battlefield, Will rally all who faint or yield. Their staring eyes betray their fear; They whisper each in other's ear. They, when they hear my cheering cry And see the friend of Rama nigh, Will cast their gloom and fears away Like faded wreaths of yesterday."

Thus calmed he King Sugriva's dread; Then gave new heart to those who fled. Fierce Indrajit, his soul on fire With pride of conquest, sought his sire, Raised reverent hands, and told him all, The battle and the princes' fall. Rejoicing at his foes' defeat Upsprang the monarch from his seat, Girt by his giant courtiers: round His warrior son his arms he wound, Close kisses on his head applied, And heard again how Rama died.



Canto XLVII. Sita.

Still on the ground where Rama slept Their faithful watch the Vanars kept. There Angad stood o'erwhelmed with grief And many a lord and warrior chief; And, ranged in densest mass around, Their tree-armed legions held the ground. Far ranged each Vanar's eager eye, Now swept the land, now sought the sky, All fearing, if a leaf was stirred, A Rakshas in the sound they heard. The lord of Lanka in his hall, Rejoicing at his foeman's fall, Commanded and the warders came Who ever watched the Maithil dame. "Go," cried the Rakshas king, "relate To Janak's child her husband's fate. Low on the earth her Rama lies, And dark in death are Lakshman's eyes. Bring forth my car and let her ride To view the chieftains side by side. The lord to whom her fancy turned For whose dear sake my love she spurned, Lies smitten, as he fiercely led The battle, with his brother dead. Lead forth the royal lady: go Her husband's lifeless body show. Then from all doubt and terror free Her softening heart will turn to me."

They heard his speech: the car was brought; That shady grove the warders sought Where, mourning Rama night and day, The melancholy lady lay. They placed her in the car and through The yielding air they swiftly flew. The lady looked upon the plain, Looked on the heaps of Vanar slain, Saw where, triumphant in the fight, Thronged the fierce rovers of the night, And Vanar chieftains, mournful-eyed, Watched by the fallen brothers' side. There stretched upon his gory bed Each brother lay as lie the dead, With shattered mail and splintered bow Pierced by the arrows of the foe. When on the pair her eyes she bent, Burst from her lips a wild lament Her eyes o'erflowed, she groaned and sighed And thus in trembling accents cried:



Canto XLVIII. Sita's Lament.

"False are they all, proved false to-day, The prophets of my fortune, they Who in the tranquil time of old A blessed life for me foretold, Predicting I should never know A childless dame's, a widow's woe, False are they all, their words are vain, For thou, my lord and life, art slain. False was the priest and vain his lore Who blessed me in those days of yore By Rama's side in bliss to reign: For thou, my lord and life, art slain. They hailed me happy from my birth, Proud empress of the lord of earth. They blessed me—but the thought is pain— For thou, my lord and life, art slain. Ah, fruitless hope! each glorious sign That stamps the future queen is mine, With no ill-omened mark to show A widow's crushing hour of woe. They say my hair is black and fine, They praise my brows' continuous line; My even teeth divided well, My bosom for its graceful swell. They praise my feet and fingers oft; They say my skin is smooth and soft, And call me happy to possess The twelve fair marks that bring success.(955) But ah, what profit shall I gain? Thou, O my lord and life, art slain. The flattering seer in former days My gentle girlish smile would praise, And swear that holy water shed By Brahman hands upon my head Should make me queen, a monarch's bride: How is the promise verified? Matchless in might the brothers slew In Janasthan the giant crew. And forced the indomitable sea To let them pass to rescue me. Theirs was the fiery weapon hurled By him who rules the watery world;(956) Theirs the dire shaft by Indra sped; Theirs was the mystic Brahma's Head.(957) In vain they fought, the bold and brave: A coward's hand their death-wounds gave. By secret shafts and magic spell The brothers, peers of Indra, fell. That foe, if seen by Rama's eye One moment, had not lived to fly. Though swift as thought, his utmost speed Had failed him in the hour of need. No might, no tear, no prayer may stay Fate's dark inevitable day. Nor could their matchless valour shield These heroes on the battle field. I sorrow for the noble dead, I mourn my hopes for ever fled; But chief my weeping eyes o'erflow For Queen Kausalya's hopeless woe. The widowed queen is counting now Each hour prescribed by Rama's vow, And lives because she longs to see Once more her princely sons and me."

Then Trijata,(958) of gentler mould Though Rakshas born, her grief consoled: "Dear Queen, thy causeless woe dispel: Thy husband lives, and all is well. Look round: in every Vanar face The light of joyful hope I trace. Not thus, believe me, shine the eyes Of warriors when their leader dies. An Army, when the chief is dead, Flies from the field dispirited. Here, undisturbed in firm array, The Vanars by the brothers stay. Love prompts my speech; no longer grieve; Ponder my counsel, and believe. These lips of mine from earliest youth Have spoken, and shall speak, the truth. Deep in my heart thy gentle grace And patient virtues hold their place. Turn, lady, turn once more thine eye: Though pierced with shafts the heroes lie, On brows and cheeks with blood-drops wet The light of beauty lingers yet. Such beauty ne'er is found in death, But vanishes with parting breath. O, trust the hope these tokens give: The heroes are not dead, but live."

Then Sita joined her hands, and sighed, "O, may thy words be verified!" The car was turned, which fleet as thought The mourning queen to Lanka brought. They led her to the garden, where Again she yielded to despair, Lamenting for the chiefs who bled On earth's cold bosom with the dead.



Canto XLIX. Rama's Lament.

Ranged round the spot where Rama fell Each Vanar chief stood sentinel. At length the mighty hero broke The trance that held him, and awoke. He saw his senseless brother, dyed With blood from head to foot, and cried: "What have I now to do with life Or rescue of my prisoned wife, When thus before my weeping eyes, Slain in the fight, my brother lies? A queen like Sita I may find Among the best of womankind, But never such a brother, tried In war, my guardian, friend, and guide. If he be dead, the brave and true, I will not live but perish too. How, reft of Lakshman, shall I meet My mother, and Kaikeyi greet? My brother's eager question brook, And fond Sumitra's longing look? What shall I say, o'erwhelmed with shame To cheer the miserable dame? How, when she hears her son is dead, Will her sad heart be comforted? Ah me, for longer life unfit This mortal body will I quit; For Lakshman slaughtered for my sake, From sleep of death will never wake. Ah when I sank oppressed with care, Thy gentle voice could soothe despair. And art thou, O my brother, killed? Is that dear voice for ever stilled? Cold are those lips, my brother, whence Came never word to breed offence? Ah stretched upon the gory plain My brother lies untimely slain: Numbed is the mighty arm that slew The leaders of the giant crew. Transfixed with shafts, with blood-streams red, Thou liest on thy lowly bed: So sinks to rest, his journey done, Mid arrowy rays the crimson sun. Thou, when from home and sire I fled, The wood's wild ways with me wouldst tread: Now close to thine my steps shall be, For I in death will follow thee. Vibhishan now will curse my name, And Rama as a braggart blame, Who promised—but his word is vain— That he in Lanka's isle should reign. Return, Sugriva: reft of me Lead back thy Vanars o'er the sea, Nor hope to battle face to face With him who rules the giant race. Well have ye done and nobly fought, And death in desperate combat sought. All that heroic might can do, Brave Vanars, has been done by you. My faithful friends I now dismiss: Return: my last farewell is this."

Bedewed with tears was every cheek As thus the Vanars heard him speak. Vibhishan on the field had stayed The Vanar hosts who fled dismayed. Now lifting up his mace on high With martial step the chief drew nigh. The hosts who watched by Rama's side Beheld his shape and giant stride. 'Tis he, 'tis Ravan's son, they thought: And all in flight their safety sought.



Canto L. The Broken Spell.

Sugriva viewed the flying crowd, And thus to Angad cried aloud: "Why run the trembling hosts, as flee Storm-scattered barks across the sea?" "Dost thou not mark," the chief replied, "Transfixed with shafts, with bloodstreams dyed, With arrowy toils about them wound, The sons of Raghu on the ground?"

That moment brought Vibhishan near. Sugriva knew the cause of fear, And ordered Jambavan, who led The bears, to check the hosts that fled. The king of bears his hest obeyed: The Vanars' headlong flight was stayed. A little while Vibhishan eyed The brothers fallen side by side. His giant fingers wet with dew Across the heroes' eyes he drew, Still on the pair his sad look bent, And spoke these word in wild lament: "Ah for the mighty chiefs brought low By coward hand and stealthy blow! Brave pair who loved the open fight, Slain by that rover of the night. Dishonest is the victory won By Indrajit my brother's son. I on their might for aid relied, And in my cause they fought and died. Lost is the hope that soothed each pain: I live, but live no more to reign, While Lanka's lord, untouched by ill, Exults in safe defiance still."

"Not thus," Sugriva said, "repine, For Lanka's isle shall still be thine. Nor let the tyrant and his son Exult before the fight be done. These royal chiefs, though now dismayed, Freed from the spell by Garud's aid, Triumphant yet the foe shall meet And lay the robber at their feet."

His hope the Vanar monarch told, And thus Vibhishan's grief consoled. Then to Sushen who at his side Expectant stood, Sugriva cried: "When these regain their strength and sense, Fly, bear them to Kishkindha hence. Here with my legions will I stay, The tyrant and his kinsmen slay, And, rescued from the giant king, The Maithil lady will I bring, Like Glory lost of old, restored By Sakra, heaven's almighty lord."

Sushen made answer: "Hear me yet: When Gods and fiends in battle met, So fiercely fought the demon crew, So wild a storm of arrows flew, That heavenly warriors faint with pain, Sank smitten by the ceaseless rain. Vrihaspati,(959) with herb and spell, Cured the sore wounds of those who fell. And, skilled in arts that heal and save, New life and sense and vigour gave. Far, on the Milky Ocean's shore, Still grow those herbs in boundless store; Let swiftest Vanars thither speed And bring them for our utmost need. Those herbs that on the mountain spring Let Panas and Sampati bring, For well the wondrous leaves they know, That heal each wound and life bestow. Beside that sea which, churned of yore, The amrit on its surface bore, Where the white billows lash the land, Chandra's fair height and Drona stand. Planted by Gods each glittering steep Looks down upon the milky deep. Let fleet Hanuman bring us thence Those herbs of wondrous influence."

Meanwhile the rushing wind grew loud, Red lightnings flashed from banks of cloud. The mountains shook, the wild waves rose, And smitten with resistless blows Unrooted fell each stately tree That fringed the margin of the sea. All life within the waters feared Then, as the Vanars gazed, appeared King Garud's self, a wondrous sight, Disclosed in flames of fiery light. From his fierce eye in sudden dread All serpents in a moment fled. And those transformed to shaft that bound The princes vanished in the ground. On Raghu's sons his eyes he bent, And hailed the lords armipotent. Then o'er them stooped the feathered king, And touched their faces with his wing. His healing touch their pangs allayed, And closed each rent the shafts had made. Again their eyes were bright and bold, Again the smooth skin shone like gold. Again within their shell enshrined Came memory and each power of mind: And, from those numbing bonds released, Their spirit, zeal, and strength increased. Firm on their feet they stood, and then Thus Rama spake, the lord of men:

"By thy dear grace in sorest need From deadly bonds we both are freed. To these glad eyes as welcome now As Aja(960) or my sire art thou. Who art thou, mighty being? say, Thus glorious in thy bright array." He ceased: the king of birds replied, While flashed his eye with joy and pride: "In me, O Raghu's son, behold One who has loved thee from of old: Garud, the lord of all that fly, Thy guardian and thy friend am I. Not all the Gods in heaven could loose These numbing bonds, this serpent noose, Wherewith fierce Ravan's son, renowned For magic arts, your limbs had bound. Those arrows fixed in every limb Were mighty snakes, transformed by him. Blood thirsty race, they live beneath The earth, and slay with venomed teeth. On, smite the lord of Lanka's isle, But guard you from the giants' guile Who each dishonest art employ And by deceit brave foes destroy. So shall the tyrant Ravan bleed, And Sita from his power be freed." Thus Garud spake: then, swift as thought, The region of the sky he sought, Where in the distance like a blaze Of fire he vanished from the gaze.

Then the glad Vanars' joy rang out In many a wild tumultuous shout, And the loud roar of drum and shell Startled each distant sentinel.



Canto LI. Dhumraksha's Sally.

King Ravan, where he sat within, Heard from his hall the deafening din, And with a spirit ill at ease Addressed his lords in words like these:

"That warlike shout, those joyous cries, Loud as the thunder of the skies, Upsent from every Vanar throat, Some new-born confidence denote. Hark, how the sea and trembling shore Re-echo with the Vanars' roar. Though arrowy chains, securely twined Both Rama and his brother bind, Still must the fierce triumphant shout Disturb my soul with rising doubt. Swift envoys to the army send, And learn what change these cries portend."

Obedient, at their master's call, Fleet giants clomb the circling wall. They saw the Vanars formed and led: They saw Sugriva at their head, The brothers from their bonds released: And hope grew faint and fear increased. Their faces pale with doubt and dread, Back to the giant king they sped, And to his startled ear revealed The tidings of the battle field.

The flush of rage a while gave place To chilling fear that changed his face:

"What?" cried the tyrant, "are my foes Freed from the binding snakes that close With venomed clasp round head and limb, Bright as the sun and fierce like him: The spell a God bestowed of yore, The spell that never failed before? If arts like these be useless, how Shall giant strength avail us now? Go forth, Dhumraksha, good at need, The bravest of my warriors lead: Force through the foe thy conquering way, And Rama and the Vanars slay."

Before his king with reverence due Dhumraksha bowed him, and withdrew. Around him at his summons came Fierce legions led by chiefs of fame. Well armed with sword and spear and mace, They hurried to the gathering place, And rushed to battle, borne at speed By elephant and car and steed.



Canto LII. Dhumraksha's Death.

The Vanars saw the giant foe Pour from the gate in gallant show, Rejoiced with warriors' fierce delight And shouted, longing for the fight. Near came the hosts and nearer yet: Dire was the tumult as they met, As, serried line to line opposed, The Vanars and the giants closed. Fierce on the foe the Vanars rushed, And, wielding trees, the foremost crushed; But, feathered from the heron's wing, With eager flight from sounding string, Against them shot with surest aim A ceaseless storm of arrows came: And, pierced in head and chest and side, Full many a Vanar fell and died. They perished slain in fierce attacks With sword and pike and battle-axe; But myriads following undismayed Their valour in the fight displayed. Unnumbered Vanars rent and torn With shaft and spear to earth were borne. But crushed by branchy trees and blocks Of jagged stone and shivered rocks Which the wild Vanars wielded well The bravest of the giants fell. Their trampled banners strewed the fields, And broken swords and spears and shields; And, crushed by blows which none might stay, Cars, elephants, and riders lay. Dhumraksha turned his furious eye And saw his routed legions fly. Still dauntless, with terrific blows, He struck and slew his foremost foes. At every blow, at every thrust, He laid a Vanar in the dust. So fell they neath the sword and lance In battle's wild Gandharva(961) dance, Where clang of bow and clash of sword Did duty for the silvery chord, And hoofs that rang and steeds that neighed Loud concert for the dancers made. So fiercely from Dhumraksha's bow His arrows rained in ceaseless flow, The Vanar legions turned and fled To all the winds discomfited. Hanuman saw the Vanars fly; He heaved a mighty rock on high. His keen eyes flashed with wrathful fire, And, rapid as the Wind his sire, Strong as the rushing tempests are, He hurled it at the advancing car. Swift through the air the missile sang: The giant from the chariot sprang, Ere crushed by that terrific blow Lay pole and wheel and flag and bow. Hanuman's eyes with fury blazed: A mountain's rocky peak he raised, Poised it on high in act to throw, And rushed upon his giant foe. Dhumraksha saw: he raised his mace And smote Hanuman on the face, Who maddened by the wound's keen pang Again upon his foeman sprang; And on the giant's head the rock Descended with resistless shock. Crushed was each limb: a shapeless mass He lay upon the blood-stained grass.



Canto LIII. Vajradanshtra's Sally.

When Ravan in his palace heard The mournful news, his wrath was stirred; And, gasping like a furious snake, To Vajradanshtra thus he spake:

"Go forth, my fiercest captain, lead The bravest of the giants' breed. Go forth, the sons of Raghu slay And by their side Sugriva lay."

He ceased: the chieftain bowed his head And forth with gathered troops he sped. Cars, camels, steeds were well arrayed, And coloured banners o'er them played. Rings decked his arms: about his waist The life-protecting mail was braced, And on the chieftain's forehead set Glittered his cap and coronet. Borne on a bannered car that glowed With golden sheen the warrior rode, And footmen marched with spear and sword And bow and mace behind their lord. In pomp and pride of warlike state They sallied from the southern gate, But saw, as on their way they sped, Dread signs around and overhead. For there were meteors falling fast, Though not a cloud its shadow cast; And each ill-omened bird and beast, Forboding death, the fear increased, While many a giant slipped and reeled, Falling before he reached the field. They met in mortal strife engaged, And long and fierce the battle raged. Spears, swords uplifted, gleamed and flashed, And many a chief to earth was dashed. A ceaseless storm of arrows rained, And limbs were pierced and blood-distained. Terrific was the sound that filled The air, and every heart was chilled, As hurtling o'er the giants flew The rocks and trees which Vanars threw. Fierce as a hungry lion when Unwary deer approach his den, Angad, his eyes with fury red, Waving a tree above his head, Rushed with wild charge which none could stay Where stood the giants' dense array. Like tall trees levelled by the blast Before him fell the giants fast, And earth that streamed with blood was strown With warriors, steeds, and cars o'erthrown.



Canto LIV. Vajradanshtra's Death.

The giant leader fiercely rained His arrows and the fight maintained. Each time the clanging cord he drew His certain shaft a Vanar slew. Then, as the creatures he has made Fly to the Lord of Life for aid, To Angad for protection fled The Vanar hosts dispirited. Then raged the battle fiercer yet When Angad and the giant met. A hundred thousand arrows, hot With flames of fire, the giant shot; And every shaft he deftly sent His foeman's body pierced and rent. From Angad's limbs ran floods of gore: A stately tree from earth he tore, Which, maddened as his gashes bled, He hurled at his opponent's head. His bow the dauntless giant drew; To meet the tree swift arrows flew, Checked the huge missile's onward way, And harmless on the earth it lay. A while the Vanar chieftain gazed, Then from the earth a rock he raised Rent from a thunder-splitten height, And cast it with resistless might. The giant marked, and, mace in hand, Leapt from his chariot to the sand, Ere the rough mass descending broke The seat, the wheel, the pole and yoke.

Then Angad seized a shattered hill, Whereon the trees were flowering still, And with full force the jagged peak Fell crashing on the giant's cheek. He staggered, reeled, and fell: the blood Gushed from the giant in a flood. Reft of his might, each sense astray, A while upon the sand he lay. But strength and wandering sense returned Again his eyes with fury burned, And with his mace upraised on high He wounded Angad on the thigh. Then from his hand his mace he threw, And closer to his foeman drew. Then with their fists they fought, and smote On brow and cheek and chest and throat. Worn out with toil, their limbs bedewed, With blood, the strife they still renewed, Like Mercury and fiery Mars Met in fierce battle mid the stars.

A while the deadly fight was stayed: Each armed him with his trusty blade Whose sheath with tinkling bells supplied, And golden net, adorned his side; And grasped his ponderous leather shield To fight till one should fall or yield. Unnumbered wounds they gave and took: Their wearied bodies reeled and shook. At length upon the sand that drank Streams of their blood the warriors sank, But as a serpent rears his head Sore wounded by a peasant's tread, So Angad, fallen on his knees, Yet gathered strength his sword to seize; And, severed by the glittering blade, The giant's head on earth was laid.

[I omit Cantos LV, LVI, LVII, and LVIII, which relate how Akampan and Prahasta sally out and fall. There is little novelty of incident in these Cantos and the results are exactly the same as before. In Canto LV, Akampan, at the command of Ravan, leads forth his troops. Evil omens are seen and heard. The enemies meet, and many fall on each side, the Vanars transfixed with arrows, the Rakshases crushed with rocks and trees.

In Canto LVI Akampan sees that the Rakshases are worsted, and fights with redoubled rage and vigour. The Vanars fall fast under his "nets of arrows." Hanuman comes to the rescue. He throws mountain peaks at the giant which are dexterously stopped with flights of arrows; and at last beats him down and kills him with a tree.

In Canto LVII, Ravan is seriously alarmed. He declares that he himself, Kumbhakarna or Prahasta, must go forth. Prahasta sallies out vaunting that the fowls of the air shall eat their fill of Vanar flesh.

In Canto LVIII, the two armies meet. Dire is the conflict; ceaseless is the rain of stones and arrows. At last Nila meets Prahasta and breaks his bow. Prahasta leaps from his car, and the giant and the Vanar fight on foot. Nila with a huge tree crushes his opponent who falls like a tree when its roots are cut.]



Canto LIX. Ravan's Sally.

They told him that the chief was killed, And Ravan's breast with rage was filled. Then, fiercely moved by wrath and pride, Thus to his lords the tyrant cried:

"No longer, nobles, may we show This lofty scorn for such a foe By whom our bravest, with his train Of steeds and elephants, is slain. Myself this day will take the field, And Raghu's sons their lives shall yield."

High on the royal car, that glowed With glory from his face, he rode; And tambour shell and drum pealed out, And joyful was each giant's shout. A mighty host, with eyeballs red Like flames of kindled fire, he led. He passed the city gate, and viewed, Arrayed, the Vanar multitude, Those wielding massy rocks, and these Armed with the stems of uptorn trees, And Rama with his eyes aglow With warlike ardour viewed the foe, And thus the brave Vibhishan, best Of weapon-wielding chiefs, addressed: "What captain leads this bright array Where lances gleam and banners play, And thousands armed with spear and sword Await the bidding of their lord?"

"Seest, thou," Vibhishan answered, "one Whose face is as the morning sun, Preeminent for hugest frame? Akampan(962) is the giant's name. Behold that chieftain, chariot-borne, Whom Brahma's chosen gifts adorn. He wields a bow like Indra's own; A lion on his flag is shown, His eyes with baleful fire are lit: 'Tis Ravan's son, 'tis Indrajit. There, brandishing in mighty hands His huge bow, Atikaya stands. And that proud warrior o'er whose head A moon-bright canopy is spread: Whose might, in many a battle tried, Has tamed imperial Indra's pride; Who wears a crown of burnished gold, Is Lanka's lord the lofty-souled."

He ceased: and Rama knew his foe, And laid an arrow on his bow: "Woe to the wretch," he cried, "whom fate Abandons to my deadly hate." He spoke, and, firm by Lakshman's side, The giant to the fray defied. The lord of Lanka bade his train Of warriors by the gates remain, To guard the city from surprise By Rama's forest born allies. Then as some monster of the sea Cleaves swift-advancing billows, he Charged with impetuous onset through The foe, and cleft the host in two. Sugriva ran, the king to meet: A hill uprooted from its seat He hurled, with trees that graced the height Against the rover of the night: But cleft with shafts that checked its way Harmless upon the earth it lay. Then fiercer Ravan's fury grew, An arrow from his side he drew, Swift as a thunderbolt, aglow With fire, and launched it at the foe. Through flesh and bone a way it found, And stretched Sugriva on the ground. Sushen and Nala saw him fall, Gavaksha, Gavaya heard their call, And, poising hills, in act to fling They charged amain the giant king. They charged, they hurled the hills in vain, He checked them with his arrowy rain, And every brave assailant felt The piercing wounds his missiles dealt, Then smitten by the shafts that came Keen, fleet, and thick, with certain aim, They fled to Rama, sure defence Against the oppressor's violence, Then, reverent palm to palm applied, Thus Lakshman to his brother cried: "To me, my lord, the task entrust To lay this giant in the dust." "Go, then," said Rama, "bravely fight; Beat down this rover of the night. But he, unmatched in bold emprise, Fears not the Lord of earth and skies, Keep on thy guard: with keenest eye Thy moments of attack espy. Let hand and eye in due accord Protect thee with the bow and sword."

Then Lakshman round his brother threw His mighty arms in honour due, Bent lowly down his reverent head, And onward to the battle sped. Hanuman from afar beheld How Ravan's shafts the Vanars quelled: To meet the giant's car he ran, Raised his right arm and thus began: "If Brahma's boon thy life has screened From Yaksha, God, Gandharva, fiend, With these contending fear no ill, But tremble at a Vanar still." With fury flashing from his eye The lord of Lanka made reply: "Strike, Vanar, strike: the fray begin, And hope eternal fame to win. This arm shall prove thee in the strife And end thy glory and thy life." "Remember," cried the Wind-God's son, "Remember all that I have done, My prowess, King, thou knowest well, Shown in the fight when Aksha(963) fell."

With heavy hand the giant smote Hanuman on the chest and throat, Who reeled and staggered to and fro, Stunned for a moment by the blow. Till, mustering strength, his hand he reared And struck the foe whom Indra feared. His huge limbs bent beneath the shock, As mountains, in an earthquake, rock, And from the Gods and sages pealed Shouts of loud triumph as he reeled. But strength returning nerved his frame: His eyeballs flashed with fiercer flame. No living creature might resist That blow of his tremendous fist Which fell upon Hanuman's flank: And to the ground the Vanar sank, No sign of life his body showed: And Ravan in his chariot rode At Nila; and his arrowy rain Fell on the captain and his train. Fierce Nila stayed his Vanar band, And, heaving with his single hand A mountain peak, with vigorous swing Hurled the huge missile at the king.

Hanuman life and strength regained, Burned for the fight and thus complained: "Why, coward giant, didst thou flee And leave the doubtful fight with me?" Seven mighty arrows keen and fleet The giant launched, the hill to meet; And, all its force and fury stayed, The harmless mass on earth was laid. Enraged the Vanar chief beheld The mountain peak by force repelled, And rained upon the foe a shower Of trees uptorn with branch and flower. Still his keen shafts which pierced and rent Each flying tree the giant sent: Still was the Vanar doomed to feel The tempest of the winged steel. Then, smarting from that arrowy storm, The Vanar chief condensed his form,(964) And lightly leaping from the ground On Ravan's standard footing found; Then springing unimpeded down Stood on his bow and golden crown. The Vanar's nimble leaps amazed Ikshvaku's son who stood and gazed. The giant, raging in his heart, Laid on his bow a fiery dart; The Vanar on his flagstaff eyed, And thus in tones of fury cried: "Well skilled in magic lore art thou: But will thine art avail thee now? See if thy magic will defend Thy life against the dart I send."

Thus Ravan spake, the giant king, And loosed the arrow from the string. It pierced, with direst fury sped, The Vanar with its flaming head. His father's might, his power innate Preserved him from the threatened fate. Upon his knees he fell, distained With streams of blood, but life remained.

Still Ravan for the battle burned: At Lakshman next his car he turned, And charged amain with furious show, Straining in mighty hands his bow. "Come," Lakshman cried, "assay the fight: Leave foes unworthy of thy might." Thus Lakshman spoke: and Lanka's lord Heard the dread thunder of the cord. And mad with burning rage and pride In hasty words like these replied: "Joy, joy is mine, O Raghu's son: Thy fate to-day thou canst not shun. Slain by mine arrows thou shalt tread The gloomy pathway of the dead."

Thus as he spoke his bow he drew, And seven keen shafts at Lakshman flew, But Raghu's son with surest aim Cleft every arrow as it came. Thus with fleet shafts each warrior shot Against his foe, and rested not. Then one choice weapon from his store, By Brahma's self bestowed of yore, Fierce as the flames that end the world, The giant king at Lakshman hurled. The hero fell, and racked with pain, Scarce could his hand his bow retain. But sense and strength resumed their seat And, lightly springing to his feet, He struck with one tremendous stroke And Ravan's bow in splinters broke. From Lakshman's cord three arrows flew And pierced the giant monarch through. Sore wounded Ravan closed, and round Ikshvaku's son his strong arms wound. With strength unrivalled, Brahma's gift, He strove from earth his foe to lift. "Shall I," he cried, "who overthrow Mount Meru and the Lord of Snow, And heaven and all who dwell therein, Be foiled by one of Rama's kin?" But though he heaved, and toiled, and strained, Unmoved Ikshvaku's son remained. His frame by those huge arms compressed The giant's God-given force confessed, But conscious that himself was part Of Vishnu, he was firm in heart.

The Wind-God's son the fight beheld, And rushed at Ravan, rage-impelled. Down crashed his mighty hand; the foe Full in the chest received the blow. His eyes grew dim, his knees gave way, And senseless on the earth he lay.

The Wind-God's son to Rama bore Deep-wounded Lakshman stained with gore. He whom no foe might lift or bend Was light as air to such a friend. The dart that Lakshman's side had cleft, Untouched, the hero's body left, And flashing through the air afar Resumed its place in Ravan's car; And, waxing well though wounded sore, He felt the deadly pain no more. And Ravan, though with deep wounds pained, Slowly his sense and strength regained, And furious still and undismayed On bow and shaft his hand he laid.

Then Hanuman to Rama cried: "Ascend my back, great chief, and ride Like Vishnu borne on Garud's wing, To battle with the giant king." So, burning for the dire attack, Rode Rama on the Vanar's back, And with fierce accents loud and slow Thus gave defiance to the foe, While his strained bowstring made a sound Like thunder when it shakes the ground: "Stay, Monarch of the giants, stay, The penalty of sin to pay. Stay! whither wilt thou fly, and how Escape the death that waits thee now?"

No word the giant king returned: His eyes with flames of fury burned. His arm was stretched, his bow was bent, And swift his fiery shafts were sent. Red torrents from the Vanar flowed: Then Rama near to Ravan strode, And with keen darts that never failed, The chariot of the king assailed. With surest aim his arrows flew: The driver and the steeds he slew. And shattered with the pointed steel Car, flag, and pole and yoke and wheel. As Indra hurls his bolt to smite Mount Meru's heaven-ascending height, So Rama with a flaming dart Struck Lanka's monarch near the heart, Who reeled and fell beneath the blow And from loose fingers dropped his bow. Bright as the sun, with crescent head, From Rama's bow an arrow sped, And from his forehead, proud no more, Cleft the bright coronet he wore. Then Rama stood by Ravan's side And to the conquered giant cried: "Well hast thou fought: thine arm has slain Strong heroes of the Vanar train. I will not strike or slay thee now, For weary, faint with fight art thou. To Lanka's town thy footsteps bend, And there the night securely spend. To-morrow come with car and bow, And then my prowess shalt thou know."

He ceased: the king in humbled pride Rose from the earth and naught replied. With wounded limbs and shattered crown He sought again his royal town.



Canto LX. Kumbhakarna Roused.

With humbled heart and broken pride Through Lanka's gate the giant hied, Crushed, like an elephant beneath A lion's spring and murderous teeth, Or like a serpent 'neath the wing And talons of the Feathered King. Such was the giant's wild alarm At arrows shot by Rama's arm; Shafts with red lightning round them curled, Like Brahma's bolts that end the world.

Supported on his golden throne, With failing eye and humbled tone, "Giants," he cried, "the toil is vain, Fruitless the penance and the pain, If I whom Indra owned his peer, Secure from Gods, a mortal fear. My soul remembers, now too late, Lord Brahma's words who spoke my fate: "Tremble, proud Giant," thus they ran, "And dread thy death from slighted man. Secure from Gods and demons live, And serpents, by the boon I give. Against their power thy life is charmed, But against man is still unarmed." This Rama is the man foretold By Anaranya's(965) lips of old:

"Fear, Ravan, basest of the base: For of mine own imperial race A prince in after time shall spring And thee and thine to ruin bring. And Vedavati,(966) ere she died Slain by my ruthless insult, cried: "A scion of my royal line Shall slay, vile wretch, both thee and thine." She in a later birth became King Janak's child, now Rama's dame. Nandisvara(967) foretold this fate, And Uma(968) when I moved her hate, And Rambha,(969) and the lovely child Of Varun(970) by my touch defiled. I know the fated hour is nigh: Hence, captains, to your stations fly. Let warders on the rampart stand: Place at each gate a watchful band; And, terror of immortal eyes, Let mightiest Kumbhakarna rise. He, slumbering, free from care and pain, By Brahma's curse, for months has lain. But when Prahasta's death he hears, Mine own defeat and doubts and fears, The chief will rise to smite the foe And his unrivalled valour show. Then Raghu's royal sons and all The Vanars neath his might will fall."

The giant lords his hest obeyed, They left him, trembling and afraid, And from the royal palace strode To Kumbhakarna's vast abode. They carried garlands sweet and fresh, And reeking loads of blood and flesh. They reached the dwelling where he lay, A cave that reached a league each way, Sweet with fair blooms of lovely scent And bright with golden ornament. His breathings came so fierce and fast, Scarce could the giants brook the blast. They found him on a golden bed With his huge limbs at length outspread. They piled their heaps of venison near, Fat buffaloes and boars and deer. With wreaths of flowers they fanned his face, And incense sweetened all the place. Each raised his mighty voice as loud As thunders of an angry cloud, And conchs their stirring summons gave That echoed through the giant's cave. Then on his breast they rained their blows, And high the wild commotion rose When cymbal vied with drum and horn. And war cries on the gale upborne. Through all the air loud discord spread, And, struck with fear, the birds fell dead. But still he slept and took his rest. Then dashed they on his shaggy chest Clubs, maces, fragments of the rock: He moved not once, nor felt the shock. The giants made one effort more With shell and drum and shout and roar. Club, mallet, mace, in fury plied, Rained blows upon his breast and side. And elephants were urged to aid, And camels groaned and horses neighed. They drenched him with a hundred pails, They tore his ears with teeth and nails. They bound together many a mace And beat him on the head and face; And elephants with ponderous tread Stamped on his limbs and chest and head. The unusual weight his slumber broke: He started, shook his sides, and woke; And, heedless of the wounds and blows, Yawning with thirst and hunger rose, His jaws like hell gaped fierce and wide, Dire as the flame neath ocean's tide. Red as the sun on Meru's crest The giant's face his wrath expressed, And every burning breath he drew Was like the blast that rushes through The mountain cedars. Up he raised His awful head with eyes that blazed Like comets, dire as Death in form Who threats the worlds with fire and storm. The giants pointed to their stores Of buffaloes and deer and boars, And straight he gorged him with a flood Of wine, with marrow, flesh, and blood. He ceased: the giants ventured near And bent their lowly heads in fear. Then Kumbhakarṇa glared with eyes Still heavy in their first surprise, Still drowsy from his troubled rest, And thus the giant band addressed. "How have ye dared my sleep to break? No trifling cause should bid me wake. Say, is all well? or tell the need That drives you with unruly speed To wake me. Mark the words I say, The king shall tremble in dismay, The fire be quenched and Indra slain Ere ye shall break my rest in vain."

Yupaksha answered: "Chieftain, hear; No God or fiend excites our fear. But men in arms our walls assail: We tremble lest their might prevail. For vengeful Rama vows to slay The foe who stole his queen away, And, matchless for his warlike deeds, A host of mighty Vanars leads. Ere now a monstrous Vanar came, Laid Lanka waste with ruthless flame, And Aksha, Ravan's offspring, slew With all his warrior retinue. Our king who never trembled yet For heavenly hosts in battle met, At length the general dread has shared, O'erthrown by Rama's arm and spared."

He ceased: and Kumbhakarna spake: "I will go forth and vengeance take; Will tread their hosts beneath my feet, Then triumph-flushed our king will meet. Our giant bands shall eat their fill Of Vanars whom this arm shall kill. The princes' blood shall be my draught, The chieftains' shall by you be quaffed." He spake, and, with an eager stride That shook the earth, to Ravan hied.



Canto LXI. The Vanars' Alarm.

The son of Raghu near the wall Saw, proudly towering over all, The mighty giant stride along Attended by the warrior throng; Heard Kumbhakarna's heavy feet Awake the echoes of the street; And, with the lust of battle fired, Turned to Vibhishan and inquired: "Vibhishan, tell that chieftain's name Who rears so high his mountain frame; With glittering helm and lion eyes, Preeminent in might and size Above the rest of giant birth, He towers the standard of the earth; And all the Vanars when they see The mighty warrior turn and flee."

"In him," Vibhishan answered, "know Visravas' son, the Immortals' foe, Fierce Kumbhakarna, mightier far Than Gods and fiends and giants are. He conquered Yama in the fight, And Indra trembling owned his might. His arm the Gods and fiends subdued, Gandharvas and the serpent brood. The rest of his gigantic race Are wondrous strong by God-giving grace; But nature at his birth to him Gave matchless power and strength of limb. Scarce was he born, fierce monster, when He killed and ate a thousand men. The trembling race of men, appalled, On Indra for protection called; And he, to save the suffering world, His bolt at Kumbhakarna hurled. So awful was the monster's yell That fear on all the nations fell, He, rushing on with furious roar, A tusk from huge Airavat tore, And dealt the God so dire a blow That Indra reeling left his foe, And with the Gods and mortals fled To Brahma's throne dispirited. "O Brahma," thus the suppliants cried, "Some refuge for this woe provide. If thus his maw the giant sate Soon will the world be desolate." The Self-existent calmed their woe, And spake in anger to their foe: "As thou wast born, Pulastya's son, That worlds might weep by thee undone, Thou like the dead henceforth shalt be: Such is the curse I lay on thee." Senseless he lay, nor spoke nor stirred; Such was the power of Brahma's word. But Ravan, troubled for his sake, Thus to the Self-existent spake: "Who lops the tree his care has reared When golden fruit has first appeared? Not thus, O Brahma, deal with one Descended from thine own dear son.(971) Still thou, O Lord, thy word must keep, He may not die, but let him sleep. Yet fix a time for him to break The chains of slumber and awake." He ceased: and Brahma made reply; "Six months in slumber shall he lie And then arising for a day Shall cast the numbing bonds away." Now Ravan in his doubt and dread Has roused the monster from his bed, Who comes in this the hour of need On slaughtered Vanars flesh to feed. Each Vanar, when his awe-struck eyes Behold the monstrous chieftain, flies. With hopeful words their minds deceive, And let our trembling hosts believe They see no giant, but, displayed, A lifeless engine deftly made."

Then Rama called to Nila: "Haste, Let troops near every gate be placed, And, armed with fragments of the rock And trees, each lane and alley block." Thus Rama spoke: the chief obeyed, And swift the Vanars stood arrayed, As when the black clouds their battle form, The summit of a hill to storm.



Canto LXII. Ravan's Request.

Along bright Lanka's royal road The giant, roused from slumber, strode, While from the houses on his head A rain of fragrant flowers was shed. He reached the monarch's gate whereon Rich gems and golden fretwork shone. Through court and corridor that shook Beneath his tread his way he took, And stood within the chamber where His brother sat in dark despair. But sudden, at the grateful sight The monarch's eye again grew bright. He started up, forgot his fear, And drew his giant brother near. The younger pressed the elder's feet And paid the King observance meet, Then cried: "O Monarch, speak thy will, And let my care thy word fulfil. What sudden terror and dismay Have burst the bonds in which I lay?"