Fierce flashed the flame from Ravan's eye, As thus in wrath he made reply: "Fair time, I ween, for sleep is this, To lull thy soul in tranquil bliss, Unheeding, in oblivion drowned, The dangers that our lives surround. Brave Rama, Dasaratha's son, A passage o'er the sea has won, And, with the Vanar monarch's aid, Round Lanka's walls his hosts arrayed. Though never in the deadly field My Rakshas troops were known to yield, The bravest of the giant train Have fallen by the Vanars slain. Hence comes my fear. O fierce and brave, Go forth, our threatened Lanka save. Go forth, a dreadful vengeance take: For this, O chief, I bade thee wake. The Gods and trembling fiends have felt The furious blows thine arm has dealt. Earth has no warrior, heaven has none To match thy might, Paulastya's son."



Canto LXIII. Kumbhakarna's Boast.

Then Kumbhakarna laughed aloud And cried; "O Monarch, once so proud, We warned thee, but thou wouldst not hear; And now the fruits of sin appear. We warned thee, I, thy nobles, all Who loved thee, in thy council hall. Those sovereigns who with blinded eyes Neglect the foe their hearts despise, Soon, falling from their high estate Bring on themselves the stroke of fate. Accept at length, thy life to save, The counsel sage Vibhishan gave, The prudent counsel spurned before, And Sita to her lord restore."(972)

The monarch frowned, by passion moved And thus in angry words reproved: "Wilt thou thine elder brother school, Forgetful of the ancient rule That bids thee treat him as the sage Who guides thee with the lore of age? Think on the dangers of the day, Nor idly throw thy words away: If, led astray, by passion stirred, I in the pride of power have erred; If deeds of old were done amiss, No time for vain reproach is this. Up, brother; let thy loving care The errors of thy king repair."

To calm his wrath, his soul to ease, The younger spake in words like these: "Yea, from our bosoms let us cast All idle sorrow for the past. Let grief and anger be repressed: Again be firm and self-possessed. This day, O Monarch, shalt thou see The Vanar legions turn and flee, And Rama and his brother slain With their hearts' blood shall dye the plain. Yea, if the God who rules the dead, And Varun their battalions led; If Indra with the Storm-Gods came Against me, and the Lord of Flame, Still would I fight with all and slay Thy banded foes, my King, to-day. If Raghu's son this day withstand The blow of mine uplifted hand, Deep in his breast my darts shall sink, And torrents of his life-blood drink. O fear not, in my promise trust: This arm shall lay him in the dust, Shall leave the fierce Sugriva dyed With gore, and Lakshman by his side, And strike the great Hanuman down, The spoiler of our glorious town."(973)



Canto LXIV. Mahodar's Speech.

He ceased: and when his lips were closed Mahodar thus his rede opposed: "Why wilt thou shame thy noble birth And speak like one of little worth? Why boast thee thus in youthful pride Rejecting wisdom for thy guide? How will thy single arm oppose The victor of a thousand foes, Who proved in Janasthan his might And slew the rovers of the night? The remnant of those legions, they Who saw his power that fatal day, Now in this leaguered city dread The mighty chief from whom they fled. And wouldst thou meet the lord of men, Beard the great lion in his den, And, when thine eyes are open, break The slumber of a deadly snake? Who may an equal battle wage With him, so awful in his rage, Fierce as the God of Death whom none May vanquish, Dasaratha's son? But, Ravan, shall the lady still Refuse compliance with thy will? No, listen, King, to this design Which soon shall make the captive thine. This day through Lanka's streets proclaim That four of us(974) of highest fame With Kumbhakarna at our head Will strike the son of Raghu dead. Forth to the battle will we go And prove our prowess on the foe. Then, if our bold attempt succeed, No further plans thy hopes will need. But if in vain our warriors strive, And Raghu's son be left alive, We will return, and, wounded sore, Our armour stained with gouts of gore, Will show the shafts that rent each frame, Keen arrows marked with Rama's name, And say we giants have devoured The princes whom our might o'erpowered. Then let the joyful tidings spread That Raghu's royal sons are dead. To all around thy pleasure show, Gold, pearls, and precious robes, bestow. Gay garlands round the portals twine, Enjoy the banquet and the wine. Then go, the scornful lady seek, And woo her when her heart is weak. Rich robes and gold and gems display, And gently wile her grief away. Then will she feel her hopeless state, Widowed, forlorn, and desolate; Know that on thee her bliss depends, Far from her country and her friends; Then, her proud spirit overthrown, The lady will be all thine own."



Canto LXV. Kumbhakarna's Speech.

But haughty Kumbhakarna spurned His counsel, and to Ravan turned: "Thy life from peril will I free And slay the foe who threatens thee. A hero never vaunts in vain, Like bellowing clouds devoid of rain, Nor, Monarch, be thine ear inclined To counsellors of slavish kind, Who with mean arts their king mislead And mar each gallant plan and deed. O, let not words like his beguile The glorious king of Lanka's isle."

Thus scornful Kumbhakarna cried, And Ravan with a laugh replied: "Mahodar fears and fain would shun The battle with Ikshvaku's son. Of all my giant warriors, who Is strong as thou, and brave and true? Ride, conqueror, to the battle ride, And tame the foeman's senseless pride. Go forth like Yama to the field, And let thine arm thy trident wield. Scared by the lightning of thine eye The Vanar hosts will turn and fly; And Rama, when he sees thee near, With trembling heart will own his fear."

The champion heard, and, well content, Forth from the hall his footsteps bent. He grasped his spear, the foeman's dread, Black iron all, both shaft and head, Which, dyed in many a battle, bore Great spots of slaughtered victims' gore. The king upon his neck had thrown The jewelled chain which graced his own. And garlands of delicious scent About his limbs for ornament. Around his arms gay bracelets clung, And pendants in his ears were hung. Adorned with gold, about his waist His coat of mail was firmly braced, And like Narayan(975) or the God Who rules the sky he proudly trod. Behind him went a mighty throng Of giant warriors tall and strong, On elephants of noblest breeds. With cars, with camels, and with steeds: And, armed with spear and axe and sword Were fain to battle for their lord.(976)



Canto LXVI. Kumbhakarna's Sally.

In pomp and pride of warlike state The giant passed the city gate. He raised his voice: the hills, the shore Of Lanka's sea returned the roar. The Vanars saw the chief draw nigh Whom not the ruler of the sky, Nor Yama, monarch of the dead, Might vanquish, and affrighted fled. When royal Angad, Bali's son, Saw the scared Vanars turn and run, Undaunted still he kept his ground, And shouted as he gazed around: "O Nala, Nila, stay nor let Your souls your generous worth forget, O Kumud and Gavaksha, why Like base-born Vanars will ye fly? Turn, turn, nor shame your order thus: This giant is no match for us"

They heard his voice: the flight was stayed; Again for war they stood arrayed, And hurled upon the foe a shower Of mountain peaks and trees in flower. Still on his limbs their missiles rained: Unmoved, their blows he still sustained, And seemed unconscious of the stroke When rocks against his body broke. Fierce as the flame when woods are dry He charged with fury in his eye. Like trees consumed with fervent heat They fell beneath the giant's feet. Some o'er the ground, dyed red with gore, Fled wild with terror to the shore, And, deeming that all hope was lost, Ran to the bridge they erst had crossed. Some clomb the trees their lives to save, Some sought the mountain and the cave; Some hid them in the bosky dell, And there in deathlike slumber fell.

When Angad saw the chieftains fly He called them with a mighty cry: "Once more, O Vanars, charge once more, On to the battle as before. In all her compass earth has not, To hide you safe, one secret spot. What! leave your arms? each nobler dame Will scorn her consort for the shame. This blot upon your names efface, And keep your valour from disgrace. Stay, chieftains; wherefore will ye run, A band of warriors scared by one?"

Scarce would they hear: they would not stay, And basely spoke in wild dismay: "Have we not fought, and fought in vain Have we not seen our mightiest slain? The giant's matchless force we fear, And fly because our lives are dear." But Bali's son with gentle art Dispelled their dread and cheered each heart. They turned and formed and waited still Obedient to the prince's will.



Canto LXVII. Kumbhakarna's Death.

Thus from their flight the Vanars turned, And every heart for battle burned, Determined on the spot to die Or gain a warrior's meed on high. Again the Vanars stooped to seize Their weapons, rocks and fallen trees; Again the deadly fight began, And fiercely at the giant ran. Unmoved the monster kept his place: He raised on high his awful mace, Whirled the huge weapon round his head And laid the foremost Vanars dead. Eight thousand fell bedewed with gore, Then sank and died seven hundred more. Then thirty, twenty, ten, or eight At each fierce onset met their fate, And fast the fallen were devoured Like snakes by Garud's beak o'erpowered. Then Dwivid from the Vanar van, Armed with an uptorn mountain, ran, Like a huge cloud when fierce winds blow, And charged amain the mountain foe. With wondrous force the hill he threw: O'er Kumbhakarna's head it flew, And falling on his host afar Crushed many a giant, steed, and car. Rocks, trees, by fierce Hanuman sped, Rained fast on Kumbhakarna's head. Whose spear each deadlier missile stopped, And harmless on the plain it dropped. Then with his furious eyes aglow The giant rushed upon the foe, Where, with a woody hill upheaved, Hanuman's might his charge received. Through his vast frame the giant felt The angry blow Hanuman dealt. He reeled a moment, sore distressed, Then smote the Vanar on the breast, As when the War-God's furious stroke Through Krauncha's hill a passage broke.(977) Fierce was the blow, and deep and wide The rent: with crimson torrents dyed, Hanuman, maddened by the pain, Roared like a cloud that brings the rain, And from each Rakshas throat rang out Loud clamour and exultant shout. Then Nila hurled with mustered might The fragment of a mountain height; Nor would the rock the foe have missed, But Kumbhakarna raised his fist And smote so fiercely that the mass Fell crushed to powder on the grass. Five chieftains of the Vanar race(978) Charged Kumbhakarna face to face, And his huge frame they wildly beat With rocks and trees and hands and feet. Round Rishabh first the giant wound His arms and hurled him to the ground, Where speechless, senseless, wounded sore, He lay his face besmeared with gore. Then Nila with his fist he slew, And Sarabh with his knee o'erthrew, Nor could Gavaksha's strength withstand The force of his terrific hand. At Gandhamadan's eager call Rushed thousands to avenge their fall, Nor ceased those Vanars to assail With knee and fist and tooth and nail. Around his foes the giant threw His mighty arms, and nearer drew The captives subject to his will: Then snatched them up and ate his fill. There was no respite then, no pause: Fast gaped and closed his hell-like jaws: Yet, prisoned in that gloomy cave, Some Vanars still their lives could save: Some through his nostrils found a way, Some through his ears resought the day. Like Indra with his thunder, like The God of Death in act to strike, The giant seized his ponderous spear, And charged the foe in swift career. Before his might the Vanars fell, Nor could their hosts his charge repel. Then trembling, nor ashamed to run, They turned and fled to Raghu's son.

When Bali's warrior son(979) beheld Their flight, his heart with fury swelled. He rushed, with his terrific shout, To meet the foe and stay the rout. He came, he hurled a mountain peak, And smote the giant on the cheek. His ponderous spear the giant threw: Fierce was the cast, the aim was true; But Angad, trained in war and tried, Saw ere it came, and leapt aside. Then with his open hand he smote The giant on the chest and throat. That blow the giant scarce sustained; But sense and strength were soon regained. With force which nothing might resist He caught the Vanar by the wrist, Whirled him, as if in pastime, round, And dashed him senseless on the ground. There low on earth his foe lay crushed: At King Sugriva next he rushed, Who, waiting for the charge, stood still, And heaved on high a shattered hill, He looked on Kumbhakarna dyed With streams of blood, and fiercely cried: "Great glory has thine arm achieved, And thousands of their lives bereaved. Now leave a while thy meaner foes, And brook the hill Sugriva throws."

He spoke, and hurled the mass he held: The giant's chest the stroke repelled, Then on the Vanars fell despair, And Rakshas clamour filled the air. The giant raised his arm, and fast Came the tremendous(980) spear he cast. Hanuman caught it as it flew, And knapped it on his knee in two. The giant saw the broken spear: His clouded eye confessed his fear; Yet at Sugriva's head he sent A peak from Lanka's mountain rent. The rushing mass no might could stay: Sugriva fell and senseless lay. The giant stooped his foe to seize, And bore him thence, as bears the breeze A cloud in autumn through the sky. He heard the sad Immortals sigh, And shouts of triumph long and loud Went up from all the Rakshas crowd. Through Lanka's gate the giant passed Holding his struggling captive fast, While from each terrace, house, and tower Fell on his haughty head a shower Of fragrant scent and flowery rain, Blossoms and leaves and scattered grain.(981)

By slow degrees the Vanars' lord Felt life and sense and strength restored. He heard the giants' joyful boast: He thought upon his Vanar host. His teeth and feet he fiercely plied, And bit and rent the giant's side, Who, mad with pain and smeared with gore, Hurled to the ground the load he bore. Regardless of a storm of blows Swift to the sky the Vanar rose, Then lightly like a flying ball High overleapt the city wall, And joyous for deliverance won Regained the side of Raghu's son. And Kumbhakarna, mad with hate And fury, sallied from the gate, The carnage of the foe renewed And filled his maw with gory food. Slaying, with headlong frenzy blind, Both Vanar foes and giant kind.

Nor would Sumitra's valiant son(982) The might of Kumbhakarna shun, Who through his harness felt the sting Of keen shafts loosened from the string. His heart confessed the warrior's power, And, bleeding from the ceaseless shower That smote him on the chest and side, With words like these the giant cried: "Well fought, well fought, Sumitra's son; Eternal glory hast thou won, For thou in desperate fight hast met The victor never conquered yet, Whom, borne on huge Airavat's back, E'en Indra trembles to attack. Go, son of Queen Sumitra, go: Thy valour and thy strength I know. Now all my hope and earnest will Is Rama in the fight to kill. Let him beneath my weapons fall, And I will meet and conquer all."

The chieftain, of Sumitra born, Made answer as he laughed in scorn: "Yea, thou hast won a victor's fame From trembling Gods and Indra's shame. There waits thee now a mightier foe Whose prowess thou hast yet to know. There, famous in a hundred lands, Rama the son of Raghu stands."

Straight at the king the giant sped, And earth was shaken at his tread. His bow the hero grasped and strained, And deadly shafts in torrents rained. As Kumbhakarna felt each stroke From his huge mouth burst fire and smoke; His hands were loosed in mortal pain And dropped his weapons on the plain. Though reft of spear and sword and mace No terror changed his haughty face. With heavy hands he rained his blows And smote to death a thousand foes. Where'er the furious monster strode While down his limbs the red blood flowed Like torrents down a mountain's side, Vanars and bears and giants died. High o'er his head a rock he swung, And the huge mass at Rama flung. But Rama's arrows bright as flame Shattered the mountain as it came. Then Raghu's son, his eyes aglow With burning anger, charged the foe, And as his bow he strained and tried With fearful clang the cord replied. Wroth at the bowstring's threatening clang To meet his foe the giant sprang. High towering with enormous frame Huge as a wood-crowned hill he came. But Rama firm and self-possessed In words like these the foe addressed: "Draw near, O Rakshas lord, draw near, Nor turn thee from the fight in fear. Thou meetest Rama face to face, Destroyer of the giant race. Come, fight, and thou shalt feel this hour, Laid low in death, thy conqueror's power."

He ceased: and mad with wrath and pride The giant champion thus replied: "Come thou to me and thou shalt find A foeman of a different kind. No Khara, no Viradha,—thou Hast met a mightier warrior now. The strength of Kumbhakarna fear, And dread the iron mace I rear This mace in days of yore subdued The Gods and Danav multitude. Prove, lion of Ikshvaku's line, Thy power upon these limbs of mine. Then, after trial, shalt thou bleed, And with thy flesh my hunger feed."

He ceased: and Rama, undismayed, Upon his cord those arrows laid Which pierced the stately Sal trees through, And Bali king of Vanars slew. They flew, they smote, but smote in vain Those mighty limbs that felt no pain. Then Rama sent with surest aim The dart that bore the Wind-God's name. The missile from the giant tore His huge arm and the mace it bore, Which crushed the Vanars where it fell: And dire was Kumbhakarna's yell. The giant seized a tree, and then Rushed madly at the lord of men. Another dart, Lord Indra's own, To meet his furious onset thrown, His left arm from the shoulder lopped, And like a mountain peak it dropped. Then from the bow of Rama sped Two arrows, each with crescent head; And, winged with might which naught could stay, They cut the giant's legs away. They fell, and awful was the sound As those vast columns shook the ground; And sky and sea and hill and cave In echoing roars their answer gave. Then from his side the hero drew A dart that like the tempest flew— No deadlier shaft has ever flown Than that which Indra called his own— Nor could the giant's mail-armed neck The fury of the missile check. Through skin and flesh and bone it smote And rent asunder head and throat. Down with the sound of thunder rolled The head adorned with rings of gold, And crushed to pieces in its fall A gate, a tower, a massive wall. Hurled to the sea the body fell: Terrific was the ocean's swell, Nor could swift fin and nimble leap Save the crushed creatures of the deep.

Thus he who plagued in impious pride The Gods and Brahmans fought and died. Glad were the hosts of heaven, and long The air re-echoed with their song.(983)



Canto LXVIII. Ravan's Lament.

They ran to Ravan in his hall And told him of his brother's fall: "Fierce as the God who rules the dead, Upon the routed foe he fed; And, victor for a while, at length Fell slain by Rama's matchless strength. Now like a mighty hill in size His mangled trunk extended lies, And where he fell, a bleeding mass, Blocks Lanka's gate that none may pass." The monarch heard: his strength gave way; And fainting on the ground he lay. Grieved at the giants' mournful tale, Long, shrill was Atikaya's wail; And Trisiras in sorrow bowed His triple head, and wept aloud. Mahodar, Mahaparsva shed Hot tears and mourned their brother dead. At length, his wandering sense restored, In loud lament cried Lanka's lord: "Ah chief, for might and valour famed, Whose arm the haughty foeman tamed, Forsaking me, thy friends and all, Why hast thou fled to Yama's hall? Why hast thou fled to taste no more The slaughtered foeman's flesh and gore? Ah me, my life is done to-day: My better arm is lopped away. Whereon in danger I relied, And, fearless, Gods and fiends defied. How could a shaft from Rama's bow The matchless giant overthrow, Whose iron frame so strong of yore The crushing bolt of Indra bore? This day the Gods and sages meet And triumph at their foe's defeat. This day the Vanar chiefs will boast And, with new ardour fired, their host In fiercer onset will assail Our city, and the ramparts scale. What care I for a monarch's name, For empire, or the Maithil dame? What joy can power and riches give, Or life that I should care to live, Unless this arm in mortal fray The slayer of my brother slay? For me, of Kumbhakarna reft, Death is the only solace left; And I will seek, o'erwhelmed with woes, The realm to which my brother goes. Ah me ill-minded, not to take His counsel when Vibhishan spake When he this evil day foretold My foolish heart was overbold: I drove my sage adviser hence, And reap the fruits of mine offence."



Canto LXIX. Narantak's Death.

Pierced to the soul by sorrow's sting Thus wailed the evil-hearted king. Then Trisiras stood forth and cried: "Yea, father, he has fought and died, Our bravest: and the loss is sore: But rouse thee, and lament no more. Hast thou not still thy coat of mail, Thy bow and shafts which never fail? A thousand asses draw thy car Which roars like thunder heard afar. Thy valour and thy warrior skill, Thy God-given strength, are left thee still. Unarmed, thy matchless might subdued The Gods and Danav multitude. Armed with thy glorious weapons, how Shall Raghu's son oppose thee now? Or, sire, within thy palace stay; And I myself will sweep away Thy foes, like Garud when he makes A banquet of the writhing snakes. Soon Raghu's son shall press the plain, As Narak(984) fell by Vishnu slain, Or Sambar(985) in rebellious pride Who met the King of Gods(986) and died."

The monarch heard: his courage grew, And life and spirit came anew. Devantak and Narantak heard, And their fierce souls with joy were stirred; And Atikaya(987) burned to fight, And heard the summons with delight; While from the rest loud rang the cry, "I too will fight," "and I," "and I."

The joyous king his sons embraced, With gold and chains and jewels graced, And sent them forth with stirring speech Of benison and praise to each. Forth from the gate the princes sped And ranged for war the troops they led. The Vanar legions charged anew, And trees and rocks for missiles flew. They saw Narantak's mighty form Borne on a steed that mocked the storm. To check his charge in vain they strove: Straight through their host his way he clove, As springs a dolphin through the tide: And countless Vanars fell and died, And mangled limbs and corpses lay To mark the chief's ensanguined way, Sugriva saw them fall or fly When fierce Narantak's steed was nigh, And marked the giant where he sped O'er heaps of dying or of dead. He bade the royal Angad face That bravest chief of giant race. As springs the sun from clouds dispersed, So Angad from the Vanars burst. No weapon for the fight he bore Save nails and teeth, and sought no more. "Leave, giant chieftain," thus he spoke, "Leave foes unworthy of thy stroke, And bend against a nobler heart The terrors of thy deadly dart."

Narantak heard the words he spake: Fast breathing, like an angry snake, With bloody teeth his lips he pressed And hurled his dart at Angad's breast. True was the aim and fierce the stroke, Yet on his breast the missile broke. Then Angad at the giant flew, And with a blow his courser slew: The fierce hand crushed through flesh and bone, And steed and rider fell o'erthrown. Narantak's eyes with fury blazed: His heavy hand on high he raised And struck in savage wrath the head Of Bali's son, who reeled and bled, Fainted a moment and no more: Then stronger, fiercer than before Smote with that fist which naught could stay, And crushed to death the giant lay.



Canto LXX. The Death Of Trisiras.

Then raged the Rakshas chiefs, and all Burned to avenge Narantak's fall. Devantak raised his club on high And rushed at Angad with a cry. Behind came Trisiras, and near Mahodar charged with levelled spear. There Angad stood to fight with three: High o'er his head he waved a tree, And at Devantak, swift and true As Indra's flaming bolt, it flew. But, cut by giant shafts in twain, With minished force it flew in vain. A shower of trees and blocks of stone From Angad's hand was fiercely thrown; But well his club Devantak plied And turned each rock and tree aside. Nor yet, by three such foes assailed, The heart of Angad sank or quailed. He slew the mighty beast that bore Mahodar: from his head he tore A bleeding tusk, and blow on blow Fell fiercely on his Rakshas foe. The giant reeled, but strength regained, And furious strokes on Angad rained, Who, wounded by the storm of blows, Sank on his knees, but swiftly rose. Then Trisiras, as up he sprang, Drew his great bow with awful clang, And fixed three arrows from his sheaf Full in the forehead of the chief. Hanuman saw, nor long delayed To speed with Nila to his aid, Who at the three-faced giant sent A peak from Lanka's mountain rent. But Trisiras with certain aim Shot rapid arrows as it came: And shivered by their force it broke And fell to earth with flash and smoke. Then as the Wind-God's son came nigh, Devantak reared his mace on high. Hanuman smote him on the head And stretched the monstrous giant dead. Fierce Trisiras with fury strained His bow, and showers of arrows rained That smote on Nila's side and chest: He sank a moment, sore distressed; But quickly gathered strength to seize A mountain with its crown of trees. Crushed by the hill, distained with gore, Mahodar fell to rise no more.

Then Trisiras raised high his spear Which chilled the trembling foe with fear And, like a flashing meteor through The air at Hanuman it flew. The Vanar shunned the threatened stroke, And with strong hands the weapon broke. The giant drew his glittering blade: Dire was the wound the weapon made Deep in the Vanar's ample chest, Who, for a moment sore oppressed, Raised his broad hand, regaining might, And struck the rover of the night. Fierce was the blow: with one wild yell Low on the earth the monster fell. Hanuman seized his fallen sword Which served no more its senseless lord, And from the monster triple-necked Smote his huge heads with crowns bedecked. Then Mahaparsva burned with ire; Fierce flashed his eyes with vengeful fire. A moment on the dead he gazed, Then his black mace aloft was raised, And down the mass of iron came That struck and shook the Vanar's frame. Hanuman's chest was wellnigh crushed, And from his mouth red torrents gushed: Yet served one instant to restore His spirit: from the foe he tore His awful mace, and smote, and laid The giant in the dust dismayed. Crushed were his jaws and teeth and eyes: Breathless and still he lay as lies A summit from a mountain rent By him who rules the firmament.



Canto LXXI. Atikaya's Death.

But Atikaya's wrath grew high To see his noblest kinsmen die. He, fiercest of the giant race, Presuming still on Brahma's grace; Proud tamer of the Immortals' pride, Whose power and might with Indra's vied, For blood and vengeful carnage burned, And on the foe his fury turned. High on a car that flashed and glowed Bright as a thousand suns he rode. Around his princely brows was set A rich bejewelled coronet. Gold pendants in his ears he wore; He strained and tried the bow he bore, And ever, as a shaft he aimed, His name and royal race proclaimed. Scarce might the Vanars brook to hear His clanging bow and voice of fear: To Raghu's elder son they fled, Their sure defence in woe and dread. Then Rama bent his eyes afar And saw the giant in his car Fast following the flying crowd And roaring like a rainy cloud. He, with the lust of battle fired, Turned to Vibhishan and inquired: "Say, who is this, of mountain size, This archer with the lion eyes? His car, which strikes our host with awe, A thousand eager coursers draw. Surrounded by the flashing spears Which line his car, the chief appears Like some huge cloud when lightnings play About it on a stormy day; And the great bow he joys to hold Whose bended back is bright with gold, As Indra's bow makes glad the skies, That best of chariots glorifies. O see the sunlike splendour flung From the great flag above him hung, Where, blazoned with refulgent lines, Rahu(988) the dreadful Dragon shines. Full thirty quivers near his side, His car with shafts is well supplied: And flashing like the light of stars Gleam his two mighty scimitars. Say, best of giants, who is he Before whose face the Vanars flee?"

Thus Rama spake. Vibhishan eyed The giants' chief, and thus replied: "This Rama, this is Ravan's son: High fame his youthful might has won. He, best of warriors, bows his ear The wisdom of the wise to hear. Supreme is he mid those who know The mastery of sword and bow. Unrivalled in the bold attack On elephant's or courser's back, He knows, beside, each subtler art, To win the foe, to bribe, or part. On him the giant hosts rely, And fear no ill when he is nigh. This peerless chieftain bears the name Of Atikaya huge of frame, Whom Dhanyamalini of yore To Ravan lord of Lanka bore."

Roused by his bow-string's awful clang, To meet their foes the Vanars sprang. Armed with tall trees from Lanka's wood, And rocks and mountain peaks, they stood. The giant's arrows, gold-bedecked, The storm of hurtling missiles checked; And ever on his foemen poured Fierce tempest from his clanging cord; Nor could the Vanar chiefs sustain His shafts' intolerable rain. They fled: the victor gained the place Where stood the lord of Raghu's race, And cried with voice of thunder: "Lo, Borne on my car, with shaft and bow, I, champion of the giants, scorn To fight with weaklings humbly born. Come forth your bravest, if he dare, And fight with one who will not spare."

Forth sprang Sumitra's noble child,(989) And strained his ready bow, and smiled; And giants trembled as the clang Through heaven and earth reechoing rang. The giant to his string applied A pointed shaft, and proudly cried; "Turn, turn, Sumitra's son and fly, For terrible as Death am I. Fly, nor that youthful form oppose, Untrained in war, to warriors' blows. What! wilt thou waste thy childish breath And wake the dormant fire of death? Cast down, rash boy, that useless bow: Preserve thy life, uninjured go."

He ceased: and stirred by wrath & pride Sumitra's noble son replied: "By warlike deed, not words alone, The valour of the brave is shown. Cease with vain boasts my scorn to move, And with thine arm thy prowess prove. Borne on thy car, with sword and bow, With all thine arms, thy valour show. Fight, and my deadly shafts this day Low in the dust thy head shall lay, And, rushing fast in ceaseless flood, Shall rend thy flesh and drink thy blood."

His giant foe no answer made, But on his string an arrow laid. He raised his arm, the cord he drew, At Lakshman's breast the arrow flew. Sumitra's son, his foemen's dread, Shot a fleet shaft with crescent head, Which cleft that arrow pointed well, And harmless to the earth it fell. A shower of shafts from Lakshman's bow Fell fast and furious on the foe Who quailed not as the missiles smote With idle force his iron coat. Then came the friendly Wind-God near, And whispered thus in Lakshman's ear: "Such shafts as these in vain assail Thy foe's impenetrable mail. A more tremendous missile try, Or never may the giant die. Employ the mighty spell, and aim The weapon known by Brahma's name." He ceased; Sumitra's son obeyed: On his great bow the shaft was laid, And with a roar like thunder, true As Indra's flashing bolt, it flew. The giant poured his shafts like rain To check its course, but all in vain. With spear and mace and sword he tried To turn the fiery dart aside. Winged with a force which naught could check, It smote the monster in the neck, And, sundered from his shoulders, rolled To earth his head and helm of gold.



Canto LXXII. Ravan's Speech.

The giants bent, in rage and grief, Their eyes upon the fallen chief: Then flying wild with fear and pale To Ravan bore the mournful tale. He heard how Atikaya died, Then turned him to his lords, and cried: "Where are they now—my bravest—where, Wise to consult and prompt to dare? Where is Dhumraksha, skilled to wield All weapons in the battle field? Akampan, and Prahasta's might, And Kumbhakarna bold in fight? These, these and many a Rakshas more, Each master of the arms he bore, Who every foe in fight o'erthrew, The victors none could e'er subdue, Have perished by the might of one, The vengeful arm of Raghu's son. In vain I cast mine eyes around, No match for Rama here is found, No chief to stand before that bow Whose deadly shafts have caused our woe. Now, warriors, to your stations hence; Provide ye for the wall's defence, And be the Asoka garden, where The lady lies, your special care. Be every lane and passage barred, Set at each gate a chosen guard. And with your troops, where danger calls, Be ready to defend the walls. Each movement of the Vanars mark; Observe them when the skies grow dark; Be ready in the dead of night, And ere the morning bring the light. Taught by our loss we may not scorn These legions of the forest-born."

He ceased: the Rakshas lords obeyed; Each at his post his troops arrayed: And, torn with pangs that pierced him through The monarch from the hall withdrew.



Canto LXXIII. Indrajit's Victory.

But Indrajit the fierce and bold With words like these his sire consoled: "Dismiss, O King, thy grief and dread, And be not thus disquieted. Against this numbing sorrow strive, For Indrajit is yet alive; And none in battle may withstand The fury of his strong right hand. This day, O sire, thine eyes shall see The sons of Raghu slain by me."

He ceased: he bade the king farewell: Clear, mid the roar of drum and shell, The clash of sword and harness rang As to his car the warrior sprang. Close followed by his Rakshas train Through Lanka's gate he reached the plain. Then down he leapt, and bade a band Of giants by the chariot stand: Then with due rites, as rules require, Did worship to the Lord of Fire. The sacred oil, as texts ordain, With wreaths of scented flowers and grain, Within the flame in order due, That mightiest of the giants threw. There on the ground were spear and blade, And arrowy leaves and fuel laid; An iron ladle deep and wide, And robes with sanguine colours dyed. Beside him stood a sable goat: The giant seized it by the throat, And straight from the consuming flame Auspicious signs of victory came. For swiftly, curling to the right, The fire leapt up with willing light Undimmed by smoky cloud, and, red Like gold, upon the offering fed. They brought him, while the flame yet glowed, The dart by Brahma's grace bestowed, And all the arms he wielded well Were charmed with text and holy spell.

Then fiercer for the fight he burned, And at the foe his chariot turned, While all his followers lifting high Their maces charged with furious cry. Dire, yet more dire the battle grew, As rocks and trees and arrows flew. The giant shot his shafts like rain, And Vanars fell in myriads slain, Sugriva, Angad, Nila felt The wounds his hurtling arrows dealt. His shafts the blood of Gaya drank; Hanuman reeled and Mainda sank. Bright as the glances of the sun Came the swift darts they could not shun. Caught in the arrowy nets he wove, In vain the sons of Raghu strove; And Rama, by the darts oppressed, His brother chieftain thus addressed: "See, first this giant warrior sends Destruction, mid our Vanar friends, And now his arrows thick and fast Their binding net around us cast. To Brahma's grace the chieftain owes The matchless power and might he shows; And mortal strength in vain contends With him whom Brahma's self befriends. Then let us still with dauntless hearts Endure this storm of pelting darts. Soon must we sink bereaved of sense; And then the victor, hurrying hence, Will seek his father in his hall And tell him of his foemen's fall." He ceased: o'erpowered by shaft and spell The sons of Raghu reeled and fell. The Rakshas on their bodies gazed; And, mid the shouts his followers raised, Sped back to Lanka to relate In Ravan's hall the princes' fate.



Canto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs.

The shades of falling night concealed The carnage of the battle field, Which, bearing each a blazing brand, Hanuman and Vibhishan scanned, Moving with slow and anxious tread Among the dying and the dead. Sad was the scene of slaughter shown Where'er the torches' light was thrown. Here mountain forms of Vanars lay Whose heads and limbs were lopped away, Arms, legs and fingers strewed the ground, And severed heads lay thick around. The earth was moist with sanguine streams, And sighs were heard and groans and screams. There lay Sugriva still and cold, There Angad, once so brave and bold. There Jambavan his might reposed, There Vegadarsi's eyes were closed; There in the dust was Nala's pride, And Dwivid lay by Mainda's side. Where'er they looked the ensanguined plain Was strewn with myriads of the slain;(990) They sought with keenly searching eyes King Jambavan supremely wise. His strength had failed by slow decay, And pierced with countless shafts he lay. They saw, and hastened to his side, And thus the sage Vibhishan cried: "Thee, monarch of the bears, we seek: Speak if thou yet art living, speak."

Slow came the aged chief's reply; Scarce could he say with many a sigh: "Torn with keen shafts which pierce each limb, My strength is gone, my sight is dim; Yet though I scarce can raise mine eyes, Thy voice, O chief, I recognize. O, while these ears can hear thee, say, Has Hanuman survived this day?"

"Why ask," Vibhishan cried, "for one Of lower rank, the Wind-God's son? Hast thou forgotten, first in place, The princely chief of Raghu's race? Can King Sugriva claim no care, And Angad, his imperial heir?"

"Yea, dearer than my noblest friends Is he on whom our hope depends. For if the Wind-God's son survive, All we though dead are yet alive. But if his precious life be fled Though living still we are but dead: He is our hope and sure relief." Thus slowly spoke the aged chief: Then to his side Hanuman came, And with low reverence named his name. Cheered by the face he longed to view The wounded chieftain lived anew. "Go forth," he cried, "O strong and brave, And in their woe the Vanars save. No might but thine, supremely great, May help us in our lost estate. The trembling bears and Vanars cheer, Calm their sad hearts, dispel their fear. Save Raghu's noble sons, and heal The deep wounds of the winged steel. High o'er the waters of the sea To far Himalaya's summits flee. Kailasa there wilt thou behold, And Rishabh, with his peaks of gold. Between them see a mountain rise Whose splendour will enchant thine eyes; His sides are clothed above, below, With all the rarest herbs that grow. Upon that mountain's lofty crest Four plants, of sovereign powers possessed, Spring from the soil, and flashing there Shed radiance through the neighbouring air. One draws the shaft: one brings again The breath of life to warm the slain; One heals each wound; one gives anew To faded cheeks their wonted hue. Fly, chieftain, to that mountain's brow And bring those herbs to save us now."

Hanuman heard, and springing through The air like Vishnu's discus(991) flew. The sea was passed: beneath him, gay With bright-winged birds, the mountains lay, And brook and lake and lonely glen, And fertile lands with toiling men. On, on he sped: before him rose The mansion of perennial snows. There soared the glorious peaks as fair As white clouds in the summer air. Here, bursting from the leafy shade, In thunder leapt the wild cascade. He looked on many a pure retreat Dear to the Gods' and sages' feet: The spot where Brahma dwells apart, The place whence Rudra launched his dart;(992) Vishnu's high seat and Indra's home, And slopes where Yama's servants roam. There was Kuvera's bright abode; There Brahma's mystic weapon glowed. There was the noble hill whereon Those herbs with wondrous lustre shone, And, ravished by the glorious sight, Hanuman rested on the height. He, moving down the glittering peak, The healing herbs began to seek: But, when he thought to seize the prize, They hid them from his eager eyes. Then to the hill in wrath he spake: "Mine arm this day shall vengeance take, If thou wilt feel no pity, none, In this great need of Raghu's son." He ceased: his mighty arms he bent And from the trembling mountain rent His huge head with the life it bore, Snakes, elephants, and golden ore. O'er hill and plain and watery waste His rapid way again he traced. And mid the wondering Vanars laid His burthen through the air conveyed, The wondrous herbs' delightful scent To all the host new vigour lent. Free from all darts and wounds and pain The sons of Raghu lived again, And dead and dying Vanars healed Rose vigorous from the battle field.



Canto LXXV. The Night Attack.

Sugriva spake in words like these: "Now, Vanar lords, the occasion seize. For now, of sons and brothers reft, To Ravan little hope is left: And if our host his gates assail His weak defence will surely fail."

At dead of night the Vanar bands Rushed on with torches in their hands. Scared by the coming of the host Each giant warder left his post. Where'er the Vanar legions came Their way was marked with hostile flame That spread in fury to devour Palace and temple, gate and tower. Down came the walls and porches, down Came stately piles that graced the town. In many a house the fire was red, On sandal wood and aloe fed. And scorching flames in billows rolled O'er diamonds and pearls and gold. On cloth of wool, on silk brocade, On linen robes their fury preyed. Wheels, poles and yokes were burned, and all The coursers' harness in the stall; And elephants' and chariots' gear, The sword, the buckler, and the spear. Scared by the crash of falling beams, Mid lamentations, groans and screams, Forth rushed the giants through the flames And with them dragged bewildered dames, Each, with o'erwhelming terror wild, Still clasping to her breast a child. The swift fire from a cloud of smoke Through many a gilded lattice broke, And, melting pearl and coral, rose O'er balconies and porticoes. The startled crane and peacock screamed As with strange light the courtyard gleamed, And fierce unusual glare was thrown On shrinking wood and heated stone. From burning stall and stable freed Rushed frantic elephant and steed, And goaded by the driving blaze Fled wildly through the crowded ways. As earth with fervent heat will glow When comes her final overthrow; From gate to gate, from court to spire Proud Lanka was one blaze of fire, And every headland, rock and bay Shone bright a hundred leagues away. Forth, blinded by the heat and flame Ran countless giants huge of frame; And, mustering for fierce attack, The Vanars charged to drive them back, While shout and scream and roar and cry Reechoed through the earth and sky. There Rama stood with strength renewed, And ever, as the foe he viewed, Shaking the distant regions rang His mighty bow's tremendous clang. Then through the gates Nikumbha hied, And Kumbha by his brother's side, Sent forth—the bravest and the best— To battle by the king's behest. There fought the chiefs in open field, And Angad fell and Dwivid reeled. Sugriva saw: by rage impelled He crushed the bow which Kumbha held. About his foe Sugriva wound His arms, and, heaving from the ground The giant hurled him o'er the bank; And deep beneath the sea he sank. Like mandar hill with furious swell Up leapt the waters where he fell. Again he rose: he sprang to land And raised on high his threatening hand: Full on Sugriva's chest it came And shook the Vanar's massy frame, But on the wounded bone he broke His wrist—so furious was the stroke. With force that naught could stay or check, Sugriva smote him neath the neck. The fierce blow crashed through flesh and bone And Kumbha lay in death o'erthrown. Nikumbha saw his brother die, And red with fury flashed his eye. He dashed with mighty sway and swing His axe against the Vanar king; But shattered on that living rock It split in fragments at the shock. Sugriva, rising to the blow, Raised his huge hand and smote his foe. And in the dust the giant lay Gasping in blood his soul away.

[I have briefly despatched Kumbha and Nikumbha, each of whom has in the text a long Canto to himself. When they fall Ravan sends forth Makaraksha or Crocodile-Eye, the son of Khara who was slain by Rama in the forest before the abduction of Sita. The account of his sallying forth, of his battle with Rama and of his death by the fiery dart of that hero occupies two Cantos which I entirely pass over. Indrajit again comes forth and, rendered invisible by his magic art slays countless Vanars with his unerring arrows. He retires to the city and returns bearing in his chariot an effigy of Sita, the work of magic, weeping and wailing by his side. He grasps the lovely image by the hair and cuts it down with his scimitar in the sight of the enraged Hanuman and all the Vanar host. At last after much fighting of the usual kind Indrajit's chariot is broken in pieces, his charioteer is slain, and he himself falls by Lakshman's hand, to the inexpressible delight of the high-souled saints, the nymphs of heaven and other celestial beings.]



Canto XCIII. Ravan's Lament.

They sought the king, a mournful train, And cried, "My lord, thy son is slain. By Lakshman's hand, before these eyes, The warrior fell no more to rise. No time is this for vain regret: Thy hero son a hero met; And he whose might in battle pressed Lord Indra and the Gods confessed, Whose power was stranger to defeat, Has gained in heaven a blissful seat."

The monarch heard the mournful tale: His heart was faint, his cheek was pale; His fleeting sense at length regained, In trembling tones he thus complained: "Ah me, my son, my pride: the boast And glory of the giant host. Could Lakshman's puny might defeat The foe whom Indra feared to meet? Could not thy deadly arrows split Proud Mandar's peaks, O Indrajit, And the Destroyer's self destroy? And wast thou conquered by a boy? I will not weep: thy noble deed Has blessed thee with immortal meed Gained by each hero in the skies Who fighting for his sovereign dies. Now, fearless of all meaner foes, The guardian Gods(993) will taste repose: But earth to me, with hill and plain, Is desolate, for thou art slain. Ah, whither hast thou fled, and left Thy mother, Lanka, me bereft; Left pride and state and wives behind, And lordship over all thy kind? I fondly hoped thy hand should pay Due honours on my dying day: And couldst thou, O beloved, flee And leave thy funeral rites to me? Life has no comfort left me, none, O Indrajit my son, my son."

Thus wailed he broken by his woes: But swift the thought of vengeance rose. In awful wrath his teeth he gnashed, And from his eyes red lightning flashed. Hot from his mouth came fire and smoke, As thus the king in fury spoke:

"Through many a thousand years of yore The penance and the pain I bore, And by fierce torment well sustained The highest grace of Brahma gained, His plighted word my life assured, From Gods of heaven and fiends secured. He armed my limbs with burnished mail Whose lustre turns the sunbeams pale, In battle proof gainst heavenly bands With thunder in their threatening hands. Armed in this mail myself will go With Brahma's gift my deadly bow, And, cleaving through the foes my way, The slayers of my son will slay."

Then, by his grief to frenzy wrought, The captive in the grove he sought. Swift through the shady path he sped: Earth trembled at his furious tread. Fierce were his eyes: his monstrous hand Held drawn for death his glittering brand. There weeping stood the Maithil dame: She shuddered as the giant came. Near drew the rover of the night And raised his sword in act to smite; But, by his nobler heart impelled, One Rakshas lord his arm withheld: "Wilt thou, great Monarch," thus he cried, "Wilt thou, to heavenly Gods allied, Blot for all time thy glorious fame, The slayer of a gentle dame? What! shall a woman's blood be spilt To stain thee with eternal guilt, Thee deep in all the Veda's lore? Far be the thought for evermore. Ah look, and let her lovely face This fury from thy bosom chase."

He ceased: the prudent counsel pleased The monarch, and his wrath appeased; Then to his council hall in haste The giant lord his steps retraced.

[I omit two Cantos in the first of which Rama with an enchanted Gandharva weapon deals destruction among the Rakshases sent out by Ravan, and in the second the Rakshas dames lament the slain and mourn over the madness of Ravan.]



Canto XCVI. Ravan's Sally.

The groans and cries of dames who wailed The ears of Lanka's lord assailed, For from each house and home was sent The voice of weeping and lament. In troubled thought his head he bowed, Then fiercely loosing on the crowd Of nobles near his throne he broke The silence, and in fury spoke: "This day my deadly shafts shall fly, And Raghu's sons shall surely die. This day shall countless Vanars bleed And dogs and kites and vultures feed. Go, bid them swift my car prepare, Bring the great bow I long to bear: And let my host with sword and shield And spear be ready for the field."

From street to street the captains passed And Rakshas warriors gathered fast. With spear and sword to pierce and strike, And axe and club and mace and pike.

[I omit several weapons for which I cannot find distinctive names, and among them the Sataghni or Centicide, supposed by some to be a kind of fire-arms or rocket, but described by a commentator on the Mahabharata as a stone or cylindrical piece of wood studded with iron spikes.]

Then Ravan's warrior chariot(994) wrought With gold and rich inlay was brought. Mid tinkling bells and weapons' clang The monarch on the chariot sprang, Which, decked with gems of every hue, Eight steeds of noble lineage drew. Mid roars of drum and shell rang out From countless throats a joyful shout. As, girt with hosts in warlike pride, Through Lanka's streets the tyrant hied. Still, louder than the roar of drums, Went up the cry "He comes, he comes, Our ever conquering lord who trod Beneath his feet both fiend and God." On to the gate the warriors swept Where Raghu's sons their station kept. When Ravan's car the portal passed The sun in heaven was overcast. Earth rocked and reeled from side to side And birds with boding voices cried. Against the standard of the king A vulture flapped his horrid wing. Big gouts of blood before him dropped, His trembling steeds in terror stopped. The hue of death was on his cheek, And scarce his flattering tongue could speak, When, terrible with flash and flame, Through murky air a meteor came. Still by the hand of Death impelled His onward way the giant held. The Vanars in the field afar Heard the loud thunder of his car. And turned with warriors' fierce delight To meet the giant in the fight. He came: his clanging bow he drew And myriads of the Vanars slew. Some through the side and heart he cleft, Some headless on the plain were left. Some struggling groaned with mangled thighs, Or broken arms or blinded eyes.

[I omit Cantos XCVII, XCVIII, and XCIX, which describe in the usual way three single combats between Sugriva and Angad on the Vanar side and Virupaksha, Mahodar, and Mahaparsva on the side of the giants. The weapons of the Vanars are trees and rocks; the giants fight with swords, axes, and bows and arrows. The details are generally the same as those of preceding duels. The giants fall, one in each Canto.]



Canto C. Ravan In The Field.

The plain with bleeding limbs was spread, And heaps of dying and of dead. His mighty bow still Rama strained, And shafts upon the giants rained. Still Angad and Sugriva, wrought To fury, for the Vanars fought. Crushed with huge rocks through chest and side Mahodar, Mahaparsva died, And Virupaksha stained with gore Dropped on the plain to rise no more. When Ravan saw the three o'erthrown He cried aloud in furious tone: "Urge, urge the car, my charioteer, The haughty Vanars' death is near. This very day shall end our griefs For leaguered town and slaughtered chiefs. Rama the tree whose lovely fruit Is Sita, shall this arm uproot,— Whose branches with protecting shade Are Vanar lords who lend him aid."

Thus cried the king: the welkin rang As forth the eager coursers sprang, And earth beneath the chariot shook With flowery grove and hill and brook. Fast rained his shafts: where'er he sped The conquered Vanars fell or fled, On rolled the car in swift career Till Raghu's noble sons were near. Then Rama looked upon the foe And strained and tried his sounding bow, Till earth and all the region rang Re-echoing to the awful clang. His bow the younger chieftain bent, And shaft on shaft at Ravan sent. He shot: but Ravan little recked; Each arrow with his own he checked, And headless, baffled of its aim, To earth the harmless missile came; And Lakshman stayed his arm o'erpowered By the thick darts the giant showered. Fierce waxed the fight and fiercer yet, For Ravan now and Rama met, And each on other poured amain The tempest of his arrowy rain. While all the sky above was dark With missiles speeding to their mark Like clouds, with flashing lightning twined About them, hurried by the wind. Not fiercer was the wondrous fight When Vritra fell by Indra's might. All arts of war each foeman knew, And trained alike, his bowstring drew. Red-eyed with fury Lanka's king Pressed his huge fingers on the string, And fixed in Rama's brows a flight Of arrows winged with matchless flight. Still Raghu's son endured, and bore That crown of shafts though wounded sore. O'er a dire dart a spell he spoke With mystic power to aid the stroke. In vain upon the foe it smote Rebounding from the steelproof coat. The giant armed his bow anew, And wondrous weapons hissed and flew, Terrific, deadly, swift of flight, Beaked like the vulture and the kite, Or bearing heads of fearful make, Of lion, tiger, wolf and snake.(995) Then Rama, troubled by the storm Of flying darts in every form Shot by an arm that naught could tire, Launched at the foe his dart of fire, Which, sacred to the Lord of Flame, Burnt and consumed where'er it came. And many a blazing shaft beside The hero to his string applied. With fiery course of dazzling hue Swift to the mark each missile flew, Some flashing like a shooting star, Some as the tongues of lightning are; One like a brilliant plant, one In splendour like the morning sun. Where'er the shafts of Rama burned The giant's darts were foiled and turned. Far into space his weapons fled, But as they flew struck thousands dead.



Canto CI. Lakshman's Fall.

When Ravan saw his darts repelled, With double rage his bosom swelled. He summoned, wroth but undismayed, A mightier charm to lend its aid. And, fierce as fire before the blast, A storm of missiles thick and fast, Spear, pike and javelin, mace and brand, Came hurtling from the giant's hand. But, mightier still, the arms employed By Raghu's son their force destroyed, And every dart fell dulled and spent By powers the bards of heaven had lent. With his huge mace Vibhishan slew The steeds that Ravan's chariot drew. Then Ravan hurled in deadly ire A ponderous spear that flashed like fire: But Rama's arrows checked its way, And harmless on the earth it lay, The giant seized a mightier spear, Which Death himself would shun with fear. Vibhishan with the stroke had died, But Lakshman's hand his bowstring plied, And flying arrows thick as hail Smote fiercely on the giant's mail. Then Ravan turned his aim aside, On Lakshman looked and fiercely cried: "Thou, thou again my wrath hast braved, And from his death Vibhishan saved. Now in his stead this spear receive Whose deadly point thy heart shall cleave."

He ceased: he hurled the mortal dart By Maya forged with magic art. The spear, with all his fury flung, Swift, flickering like a serpent's tongue, Adorned with many a tinkling bell, Smote Lakshman, and the hero fell. When Rama saw, he heaved a sigh, A tear one moment dimmed his eye. But tender grief was soon repressed And thoughts of vengeance filled his breast. The air around him flashed and gleamed As from his bow the arrows streamed; And Lanka's lord, the foeman's dread, O'erwhelmed with terror turned and fled.



Canto CII. Lakshman Healed.

But Rama, pride of Raghu's race, Gazed tenderly on Lakshman's face, And, as the sight his spirit broke, Turned to Sushen and sadly spoke: "Where is my power and valour? how Shall I have heart for battle now, When dead before my weeping eyes My brother, noblest Lakshman, lies? My tears in blinding torrents flow, My hand unnerved has dropped my bow. The pangs of woe have blanched my cheek, My heart is sick, my strength is weak. Ah me, my brother! Ah, that I By Lakshman's side might sink and die: Life, war and conquest, all are vain If Lakshman lies in battle slain. Why will those eyes my glances shun? Hast thou no word of answer, none? Ah, is thy noble spirit flown And gone to other worlds alone? Couldst thou not let thy brother seek Those worlds with thee? O speak, O speak! Rise up once more, my brother, rise, Look on me with thy loving eyes. Were not thy steps beside me still In gloomy wood, on breezy hill? Did not thy gentle care assuage Thy brother's grief and fitful rage? Didst thou not all his troubles share, His guide and comfort in despair?"

As Rama, vanquished, wept and sighed The Vanar chieftain thus replied: "Great Prince, unmanly thoughts dismiss, Nor yield thy soul to grief like this. In vain those burning tears are shed: Our glory Lakshman is not dead. Death on his brow no mark has set, Where beauty's lustre lingers yet. Clear is the skin, and tender hues Of lotus flowers his palms suffuse. O Rama, cheer thy trembling heart; Not thus do life and body part. Now, Hanuman, to thee I speak: Hie hence to tall Mahodaya's(996) peak Where herbs of sovereign virtue grow Which life and health and strength bestow Bring thou the leaves to balm his pain, And Lakshman shall be well again."

He ceased: the Wind-God's son obeyed Swift through the clouds his way he made. He reached the hill, nor stayed to find The wondrous herbs of healing kind, From its broad base the mount he tore With all the shrubs and trees it bore, Sped through the clouds again and showed To wise Sushen his woody load.(997) Sushen in wonder viewed the hill, And culled the sovereign salve of ill. Soon as the healing herb he found, The fragrant leaves he crushed and ground. Then over Lakshman's face he bent, Who, healed and strengthened by the scent Of that blest herb divinely sweet, Rose fresh and lusty on his feet.



Canto CIII. Indra's Car.

Then Raghu's son forgot his woe: Again he grasped his fallen bow And hurled at Lanka's lord amain The tempest of his arrowy rain. Drawn by the steeds his lords had brought, Again the giant turned and fought. And drove his glittering chariot nigh As springs the Day-God through the sky. Then, as his sounding bow he bent, Like thunderbolts his shafts were sent, As when dark clouds in rain time shed Fierce torrents on a mountain's head. High on his car the giant rode, On foot the son of Raghu strode. The Gods from their celestial height Indignant saw the unequal fight. Then he whom heavenly hosts revere, Lord Indra, called his charioteer:

"Haste, Matali," he cried, "descend; To Raghu's son my chariot lend. With cheering words the chief address; And all the Gods thy deed will bless."

He bowed; he brought the glorious car Whose tinkling bells were heard afar; Fair as the sun of morning, bright With gold and pearl and lazulite. He yoked the steeds of tawny hue That swifter than the tempest flew. Then down the slope of heaven he hied And stayed the car by Rama's side. "Ascend, O Chief," he humbly cried, "The chariot which the Gods provide. The mighty bow of Indra see, Sent by the Gods who favour thee; Behold this coat of glittering mail, And spear and shafts which never fail."

Cheered by the grace the Immortals showed The chieftain on the chariot rode. Then as the car-borne warriors met The awful fight raged fiercer yet. Each shaft that Ravan shot became A serpent red with kindled flame, And round the limbs of Rama hung With fiery jaws and quivering tongue. But every serpent fled dismayed When Raghu's valiant son displayed The weapon of the Feathered King,(998) And loosed his arrows from the string. But Ravan armed his bow anew, And showers of shafts at Rama flew, While the fierce king in swift career Smote with a dart the charioteer. An arrow shot by Ravan's hand Laid the proud banner on the sand, And Indra's steeds of heavenly strain Fell by the iron tempest slain. On Gods and spirits of the air Fell terror, trembling, and despair. The sea's white billows mounted high With froth and foam to drench the sky. The sun by lurid clouds was veiled, The friendly lights of heaven were paled; And, fiercely gleaming, fiery Mars Opposed the beams of gentler stars.

Then Rama's eyes with fury blazed As Indra's heavenly spear he raised. Loud rang the bells: the glistering head Bright flashes through the region shed. Down came the spear in swift descent: The giant's lance was crushed and bent. Then Ravan's horses brave and fleet Fell dead beneath his arrowy sleet. Fierce on his foeman Rama pressed, And gored with shafts his mighty breast. And spouting streams of crimson dyed The weary giant's limbs and side.

[I omit Cantos CIV and CV in which the fight is renewed and Ravan severely reprimands his charioteer for timidity and want of confidence in his master's prowess, and orders him to charge straight at Rama on the next occasion.]



Canto CVI. Glory To The Sun.

There faint and bleeding fast, apart Stood Ravan raging in his heart. Then, moved with ruth for Rama's sake, Agastya(999) came and gently spake: "Bend, Rama, bend thy heart and ear The everlasting truth to hear Which all thy hopes through life will bless And crown thine arms with full success. The rising sun with golden rays, Light of the worlds, adore and praise: The universal king, the lord By hosts of heaven and fiends adored. He tempers all with soft control, He is the Gods' diviner soul; And Gods above and fiends below And men to him their safety owe. He Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, he Each person of the glorious Three, Is every God whose praise we tell, The King of Heaven,(1000) the Lord of Hell:(1001) Each God revered from times of old, The Lord of War,(1002) the King of Gold:(1003) Mahendra, Time and Death is he, The Moon, the Ruler of the Sea.(1004) He hears our praise in every form,— The manes,(1005) Gods who ride the storm,(1006) The Asvins,(1007) Manu,(1008) they who stand Round Indra,(1009) and the Sadhyas'(1010) band He is the air, and life and fire, The universal source and sire: He brings the seasons at his call, Creator, light, and nurse of all. His heavenly course he joys to run, Maker of Day, the golden sun. The steeds that whirl his car are seven,(1011) The flaming steeds that flash through heaven. Lord of the sky, the conqueror parts The clouds of night with glistering darts. He, master of the Vedas' lore, Commands the clouds' collected store: He is the rivers' surest friend; He bids the rains, and they descend. Stars, planets, constellations own Their monarch of the golden throne. Lord of twelve forms,(1012) to thee I bow, Most glorious King of heaven art thou. O Rama, he who pays aright Due worship to the Lord of Light Shall never fall oppressed by ill, But find a stay and comfort still. Adore with all thy heart and mind This God of Gods, to him resigned; And thou his saving power shalt know Victorious o'er thy giant foe."

[This Canto does not appear in the Bengal recension. It comes in awkwardly and may I think be considered as an interpolation, but I paraphrase a portion of it as a relief after so much fighting and carnage, and as an interesting glimpse of the monotheistic ideas which underlie the Hindu religion. The hymn does not readily lend itself to metrical translation, and I have not attempted here to give a faithful rendering of the whole. A literal version of the text and the commentary given in the Calcutta edition will be found in the Additional Notes.

A canto is here omitted. It contains fighting of the ordinary kind between Rama and Ravan, and a description of sights and sounds of evil omen foreboding the destruction of the giant.]



Canto CVIII. The Battle.

He spoke, and vanished: Rama raised His eyes with reverence meet, and praised The glorious Day-God full in view: Then armed him for the fight anew. Urged onward by his charioteer The giant's foaming steeds came near, And furious was the battle's din Where each resolved to die or win. The Rakshas host and Vanar bands Stood with their weapons in their hands, And watched in terror and dismay The fortune of the awful fray. The giant chief with rage inflamed His darts at Rama's pennon aimed; But when they touched the chariot made By heavenly hands their force was stayed. Then Rama's breast with fury swelled; He strained the mighty bow he held, And straight at Ravan's banner flew An arrow as the string he drew— A deadly arrow swift of flight, Like some huge snake ablaze with light, Whose fury none might e'er repel,— And, split in twain, the standard fell. At Rama's steeds sharp arrows, hot With flames of fire, the giant shot. Unmoved the heavenly steeds sustained The furious shower the warrior rained, As though soft lotus tendrils smote Each haughty crest and glossy coat. Then volleyed swift by magic art, Tree, mountain peak and spear and dart, Trident and pike and club and mace Flew hurtling straight at Rama's face. But Rama with his steeds and car Escaped the storm which fell afar Where the strange missiles, as they rushed To earth, a thousand Vanars crushed.



Canto CIX. The Battle.

With wondrous power and might and skill The giant fought with Rama still. Each at his foe his chariot drove, And still for death or victory strove. The warriors' steeds together dashed, And pole with pole reechoing clashed. Then Rama launching dart on dart Made Ravan's coursers swerve and start. Nor was the lord of Lanka slow To rain his arrows on the foe, Who showed, by fiery points assailed, No trace of pain, nor shook nor quailed. Dense clouds of arrows Rama shot With that strong arm which rested not, And spear and mace and club and brand Fell in dire rain from Ravan's hand. The storm of missiles fiercely cast Stirred up the oceans with its blast, And Serpent-Gods and fiends who dwell Below were troubled by the swell. The earth with hill and plain and brook And grove and garden reeled and shook: The very sun grew cold and pale, And horror stilled the rising gale. God and Gandharva, sage and saint Cried out, with grief and terror faint: "O may the prince of Raghu's line Give peace to Brahmans and to kine, And, rescuing the worlds, o'erthrow The giant king our awful foe."

Then to his deadly string the pride Of Raghu's race a shaft applied. Sharp as a serpent's venomed fang Straight to its mark the arrow sprang, And from the giant's body shred With trenchant steel the monstrous head. There might the triple world behold That severed head adorned with gold. But when all eyes were bent to view, Swift in its stead another grew. Again the shaft was pointed well: Again the head divided fell; But still as each to earth was cast Another head succeeded fast. A hundred, bright with fiery flame, Fell low before the victor's aim, Yet Ravan by no sign betrayed That death was near or strength decayed. The doubtful fight he still maintained, And on the foe his missiles rained. In air, on earth, on plain, on hill, With awful might he battled still; And through the hours of night and day The conflict knew no pause or stay.



Canto CX. Ravan's Death.

Then Matali to Rama cried: "Let other arms the day decide. Why wilt thou strive with useless toil And see his might thy efforts foil? Launch at the foe thy dart whose fire Was kindled by the Almighty Sire." He ceased: and Raghu's son obeyed: Upon his string the hero laid An arrow, like a snake that hissed. Whose fiery flight had never missed: The arrow Saint Agastya gave And blessed the chieftain's life to save That dart the Eternal Father made The Monarch of the Gods to aid; By Brahma's self on him bestowed When forth to fight Lord Indra rode. 'Twas feathered with the rushing wind; The glowing sun and fire combined To the keen point their splendour lent; The shaft, ethereal element, By Meru's hill and Mandar, pride Of mountains, had its weight supplied. He laid it on the twisted cord, He turned the point at Lanka's lord, And swift the limb-dividing dart Pierced the huge chest and cleft the heart, And dead he fell upon the plain Like Vritra by the Thunderer slain. The Rakahas host when Ravan fell Sent forth a wild terrific yell, Then turned and fled, all hope resigned, Through Lanka's gates, nor looked behind. His voice each joyous Vanar raised, And Rama, conquering Rama, praised. Soft from celestial minstrels came The sound of music and acclaim. Soft, fresh, and cool, a rising breeze Brought odours from the heavenly trees, And ravishing the sight and smell A wondrous rain of blossoms fell: And voices breathed round Raghu's son: "Champion of Gods, well done, well done."



Canto CXI. Vibhishan's Lament.

Vibhishan saw his brother slain, Nor could his heart its woe contain. O'er the dead king he sadly bent And mourned him with a loud lament: "O hero, bold and brave," he cried, "Skilled in all arms, in battle tried. Spoiled of thy crown, with limbs outspread, Why wilt thou press thy gory bed? Why slumber on the earth's cold breast, When sumptuous couches woo to rest? Ah me, my brother over bold, Thine is the fate my heart foretold: But love and pride forbade to hear The friend who blamed thy wild career. Fallen is the sun who gave us light, Our lordly moon is veiled in night. Our beacon fire is dead and cold A hundred waves have o'er it rolled. What could his light and fire avail Against Lord Rama's arrowy hail? Woe for the giants' royal tree, Whose stately height was fair to see. His buds were deeds of kingly grace, His bloom the sons who decked his race. With rifled bloom and mangled bough The royal tree lies prostrate now." "Nay, idly mourn not," Rama cried, "The warrior king has nobly died, Intrepid hero, firm through all, So fell he as the brave should fall; And ill beseems it chiefs like us To weep for those who perish thus. Be firm: thy causeless grief restrain, And pay the dues that yet remain."

Again Vibhishan sadly spoke: "His was the hero arm that broke Embattled Gods' and Indra's might, Unconquered ere to-day in fight. He rushed against thee, fought and fell, As Ocean, when his waters swell, Hurling his might against a rock, Falls spent and shattered by the shock. Woe for our king's untimely end, The generous lord the trusty friend: Our sure defence when fear arose, A dreaded scourge to stubborn foes. O, let the king thy hand has slain The honours of the dead obtain."

Then Rama answered. "Hatred dies When low in dust the foeman lies. Now triumph bids the conflict cease, And knits us in the bonds of peace. Let funeral rites be duly paid. And be it mine thy toil to aid."



Canto CXII. The Rakshas Dames.

High rose the universal wail That mourned the monarch's death, and, pale With crushing woe, her hair unbound, Her eyes in floods of sorrow drowned, Forth from the inner chambers came With trembling feet each royal dame, Heedless of those who bade them stay They reached the field where Ravan lay; There falling by their husband's side, "Ah, King! ah dearest lord!" they cried. Like creepers shattered by the storm They threw them on his mangled form. One to his bleeding bosom crept And lifted up her voice and wept. About his feet one mourner clung, Around his neck another hung, One on the giant's severed head, Her pearly tears in torrents shed Fast as the drops the summer shower Pours down upon the lotus flower. "Ah, he whose arm in anger reared The King of Gods and Yama feared, While panic struck their heavenly train, Lies prostrate in the battle slain. Thy haughty heart thou wouldst not bend, Nor listen to each wiser friend. Ah, had the dame, as they implored, Been yielded to her injured lord, We had not mourned this day thy fall, And happy had it been for all. Then Rama and thy friends content In blissful peace their days had spent. Thine injured brother had not fled, Nor giant chiefs and Vanars bled. Yet for these woes we will not blame. Thy fancy for the Maithil dame, Fate, ruthless Fate, whom none may bend Has urged thee to thy hapless end."



Canto CXIII. Mandodari's Lament.

While thus they wept, supreme in place, The loveliest for form and face, Mandodari drew near alone, Looked on her lord and made her moan: "Ah Monarch, Indra feared to stand In fight before thy conquering hand. From thy dread spear the Immortals ran; And art thou murdered by a man? Ah, 'twas no child of earth, I know, That smote thee with that mortal blow. 'Twas Death himself in Rama's shape, That slew thee: Death whom none escape. Or was it he who rules the skies Who met thee, clothed in man's disguise? Ah no, my lord, not Indra: he In battle ne'er could look on thee. One only God thy match I deem: 'Twas Vishnu's self, the Lord Supreme, Whose days through ceaseless time extend And ne'er began and ne'er shall end: He with the discus, shell, and mace, Brought ruin on the giant race. Girt by the Gods of heaven arrayed Like Vanar hosts his strength to aid, He Rama's shape and arms assumed And slew the king whom Fate had doomed. In Janasthan when Khara died With giant legions by his side, No mortal was the unconquered foe In Rama's form who struck the blow. When Hanuman the Vanar came And burnt thy town with hostile flame, I counselled peace in anxious fear: I counselled, but thou wouldst not hear. Thy fancy for the foreign dame Has brought thee death and endless shame. Why should thy foolish fancy roam? Hadst thou not wives as fair at home? In beauty, form and grace could she, Dear lord, surpass or rival me? Now will the days of Sita glide In tranquil joy by Rama's side: And I—ah me, around me raves A sea of woe with whelming waves. With thee in days of old I trod Each spot beloved by nymph and God; I stood with thee in proud delight On Mandar's side and Meru's height; With thee, my lord, enchanted strayed In Chaitraratha's(1013) lovely shade, And viewed each fairest scene afar Transported in thy radiant car. But source of every joy wast thou, And all my bliss is ended now."

Then Rama to Vibhishan cried: "Whate'er the ritual bids, provide. Obsequial honours duly pay, And these sad mourners' grief allay." Vibhishan answered, wise and true, For duty's changeless law he knew: "Nay one who scorned all sacred vows And dared to touch another's spouse, Fell tyrant of the human race, With funeral rites I may not grace."

Him Raghu's royal son, the best Of those who love the law, addressed: "False was the rover of the night, He loved the wrong and scorned the right. Yet for the fallen warrior plead The dauntless heart, the valorous deed. Let him who ne'er had brooked defeat, The chief whom Indra feared to meet, The ever-conquering lord, obtain The honours that should grace the slain." Vibhishan bade his friends prepare The funeral rites with thoughtful care. Himself the royal palace sought Whence sacred fire was quickly brought, With sandal wood and precious scents And pearl and coral ornaments. Wise Brahmans, while the tears that flowed Down their wan cheeks their sorrow sowed, Upon a golden litter laid The corpse in finest ropes arrayed. Thereon were flowers and pennons hung, And loud the monarch's praise was sung. Then was the golden litter raised, While holy fire in order blazed. And first in place Vibhishan led The slow procession of the dead, Behind, their cheeks with tears bedewed, Came sad the widowed multitude. Where, raised as Brahmans ordered, stood Piled sandal logs, and scented wood, The body of the king was set High on a deerskin coverlet. Then duly to the monarch's shade The offerings for the dead they paid, And southward on the eastern side An altar formed and fire supplied. Then on the shoulder of the dead The oil and clotted milk were shed. All rites were done as rules ordain: The sacrificial goat was slain. Next on the corpse were perfumes thrown And many a flowery wreath was strown; And with Vibhishan's ready aid Rich vesture o'er the king was laid. Then while the tears their cheeks bedewed Parched grain upon the dead they strewed; Last, to the wood, as rules require, Vibhishan set the kindling fire.

Then having bathed, as texts ordain, To Lanka went the mourning train. Vibhishan, when his task was done, Stood by the side of Raghu's son. And Rama, freed from every foe, Unstrung at last his deadly bow, And laid the glittering shafts aside, And mail by Indra's love supplied.



Canto CXIV. Vibhishan Consecrated.

Joy reigned in heaven where every eye Had seen the Lord of Lanka die. In cars whose sheen surpassed the sun's Triumphant rode the radiant ones: And Ravan's death, by every tongue, And Rama's glorious deeds were sung. They praised the Vanars true and brave, The counsel wise Sugriva gave. The deeds of Hanuman they told, The valiant chief supremely bold, The strong ally, the faithful friend, And Sita's truth which naught could bend.

To Matali, whom Indra sent, His head the son of Raghu bent: And he with fiery steeds who clove The clouds again to Swarga drove. Round King Sugriva brave and true His arms in rapture Rama threw, Looked on the host with joy and pride, And thus to noble Lakshman cried:

"Now let king-making drops be shed, Dear brother, on Vibhishan's head For truth and friendship nobly shown, And make him lord of Ravan's throne." This longing of his heart he told: And Lakshman took an urn of gold And bade the wind-fleet Vanars bring Sea water for the giants' king. The brimming urn was swiftly brought: Then on a throne superbly wrought Vibhishan sat, the giants' lord, And o'er his brows the drops were poured. As Raghu's son the rite beheld His loving heart with rapture swelled: But tenderer thoughts within him woke, And thus to Hanuman he spoke:

"Go to my queen: this message give: Say Lakshman and Sugriva live. The death of Lanka's monarch tell, And bid her joy, for all is well."



Canto CXV. Sita's Joy.

The Vanar chieftain bowed his head, Within the walls of Lanka sped, Leave from the new-made king obtained, And Sita's lovely garden gained. Beneath a tree the queen he found, Where Rakshas warders watched around. Her pallid cheek, her tangled hair, Her raiment showed her deep despair, Near and more near the envoy came And gently hailed the weeping dame. She started up in sweet surprise, And sudden joy illumed her eyes. For well the Vanar's voice she knew, And hope reviving sprang and grew.

"Fair Queen," he said, "our task is done: The foe is slain and Lanka won. Triumphant mid triumphant friends Kind words of greeting Rama sends. "Blest for thy sake, O spouse most true, My deadly foe I met and slew. Mine eyes are strangers yet to sleep: I built a bridge athwart the deep And crossed the sea to Lanka's shore To keep the mighty oath I swore. Now, gentle love, thy cares dispel, And weep no more, for all is well. Fear not in Ravan's house to stay For good Vibhishan now bears sway, For constant truth and friendship known Regard his palace as thine own." He greets thee thus thy heart to cheer, And urged by love will soon be here."

Then flushed with joy the lady's cheek. Her eyes o'erflowed, her voice was weak; But struggling with her sobs she broke Her silence thus, and faintly spoke: "So fast the flood of rapture came, My trembling tongue no words could frame. Ne'er have I heard in days of bliss A tale that gave such joy as this. More precious far than gems and gold The message which thy lips have told."

His reverent hands the Vanar raised And thus the lady's answer praised: "Sweet are the words, O Queen, which thou True to thy lord, hast spoken now, Better than gems and pearls of price, Yea, or the throne of Paradise. But, lady, ere I leave this place, Grant me, I pray, a single grace. Permit me, and this vengeful hand Shall slay thy guards, this Rakshas band, Whose cruel insult threat and scorn Thy gentle soul too long has borne."

Thus, stern of mood, Hanuman cried: The Maithil lady thus replied: "Nay, be not wroth with servants: they, When monarchs bid must needs obey. And, vassals of their lords, fulfil Each fancy of their sovereign will. To mine own sins the blame impute, For as we sow we reap the fruit. The tyrant's will these dames obeyed When their fierce threats my soul dismayed."

She ceased: with admiration moved The Vanar chief her words approved: "Thy speech," he cried, "is worthy one Whom love has linked to Raghu's son. Now speak, O Queen, that I may know Thy pleasure, for to him I go." The Vanar ceased: then Janak's child Made answer as she sweetly smiled: "'My first, my only wish can be, O chief, my loving lord to see." Again the Vanar envoy spoke, And with his words new rapture woke: "Queen, ere this sun shall cease to shine Thy Rama's eyes shall look in thine. Again the lord of Raghu's race Shall turn to thee his moon-bright face. His faithful brother shall thou see And every friend who fought for thee, And greet once more thy king restored Like Sachi(1014) to her heavenly lord." To Raghu's son his steps he bent And told the message that she sent.



Canto CXVI. The Meeting.

He looked upon that archer chief Whose full eye mocked the lotus leaf, And thus the noble Vanar spake: "Now meet the queen for whose dear sake Thy mighty task was first begun, And now the glorious fruit is won. O'erwhelmed with woe thy lady lies, The hot tears streaming from her eyes. And still the queen must long and pine Until those eyes be turned to thine."

But Rama stood in pensive mood, And gathering tears his eyes bedewed. His sad looks sought the ground: he sighed And thus to King Vibhishan cried: "Let Sita bathe and tire her head And hither to my sight be led In raiment sweet with precious scent, And gay with golden ornament."

The Rakshas king his palace sought, And Sita from her bower was brought. Then Rakshas bearers tall and strong, Selected from the menial throng, Through Lanka's gate the queen, arrayed In glorious robes and gems, conveyed. Concealed behind the silken screen, Swift to the plain they bore the queen, While Vanars, close on every side, With eager looks the litter eyed. The warders at Vibhishan's hest The onward rushing throng repressed, While like the roar of ocean loud Rose the wild murmur of the crowd. The son of Raghu saw and moved With anger thus the king reproved: "Why vex with hasty blow and threat The Vanars, and my rights forget? Repress this zeal, untimely shown: I count this people as mine own. A woman's guard is not her bower, The lofty wall, the fenced tower: Her conduct is her best defence, And not a king's magnificence. At holy rites, in war and woe, Her face unveiled a dame may show; When at the Maiden's Choice(1015) they meet, When marriage troops parade the street. And she, my queen, who long has lain In prison racked with care and pain, May cease a while her face to hide, For is not Rama by her side? Lay down the litter: on her feet Let Sita come her lord to meet. And let the hosts of woodland race Look near upon the lady's face."

Then Lakshman and each Vanar chief Who heard his words were filled with grief. The lady's gentle spirit sank, And from each eye in fear she shrank, As, her sweet eyelids veiled for shame, Slowly before her lord she came. While rapture battled with surprise She raised to his her wistful eyes. Then with her doubt and fear she strove, And from her breast all sorrow drove. Regardless of the gathering crowd, Bright as the moon without a cloud, She bent her eyes, no longer dim, In joy and trusting love on him.



Canto CXVII. Sita's Disgrace.

He saw her trembling by his side, And looked upon her face and cried: "Lady, at length my task is done, And thou, the prize of war, art won, This arm my glory has retrieved, And all that man might do achieved; The insulting foe in battle slain And cleared mine honour from its stain. This day has made my name renowned And with success my labour crowned. Lord of myself, the oath I swore Is binding on my soul no more. If from my home my queen was reft, This arm has well avenged the theft, And in the field has wiped away The blot that on mine honour lay. The bridge that spans the foaming flood, The city red with giants' blood; The hosts by King Sugriva led Who wisely counselled, fought and bled; Vibhishan's love, our guide and stay— All these are crowned with fruit to-day. But, lady, 'twas not love for thee That led mine army o'er the sea. 'Twas not for thee our blood was shed, Or Lanka filled with giant dead. No fond affection for my wife Inspired me in the hour of strife. I battled to avenge the cause Of honour and insulted laws. My love is fled, for on thy fame Lies the dark blot of sin and shame; And thou art hateful as the light That flashes on the injured sight. The world is all before thee: flee: Go where thou wilt, but not with me. How should my home receive again A mistress soiled with deathless stain? How should I brook the foul disgrace, Scorned by my friends and all my race? For Ravan bore thee through the sky, And fixed on thine his evil eye. About thy waist his arms he threw, Close to his breast his captive drew, And kept thee, vassal of his power, An inmate of his ladies' bower."



Canto CXVIII. Sita's Reply.

Struck down with overwhelming shame She shrank within her trembling frame. Each word of Rama's like a dart Had pierced the lady to the heart; And from her sweet eyes unrestrained The torrent of her sorrows, rained. Her weeping eyes at length she dried, And thus mid choking sobs replied: "Canst thou, a high-born prince, dismiss A high-born dame with speech like this? Such words befit the meanest hind, Not princely birth and generous mind, By all my virtuous life I swear I am not what thy words declare. If some are faithless, wilt thou find No love and truth in womankind? Doubt others if thou wilt, but own The truth which all my life has shown. If, when the giant seized his prey, Within his hated arms I lay, And felt the grasp I dreaded, blame Fate and the robber, not thy dame. What could a helpless woman do? My heart was mine and still was true, Why when Hanuman sent by thee Sought Lanka's town across the sea, Couldst thou not give, O lord of men, Thy sentence of rejection then? Then in the presence of the chief Death, ready death, had brought relief, Nor had I nursed in woe and pain This lingering life, alas in vain. Then hadst thou shunned the fruitless strife Nor jeopardied thy noble life, But spared thy friends and bold allies Their vain and weary enterprise. Is all forgotten, all? my birth, Named Janak's child, from fostering earth? That day of triumph when a maid My trembling hand in thine I laid? My meek obedience to thy will, My faithful love through joy and ill, That never failed at duty's call— O King, is all forgotten, all?"

To Lakshman then she turned and spoke While sobs and sighs her utterance broke: "Sumitra's son, a pile prepare, My refuge in my dark despair. I will not live to bear this weight Of shame, forlorn and desolate. The kindled fire my woes shall end And be my best and surest friend."

His mournful eyes the hero raised And wistfully on Rama gazed, In whose stern look no ruth was seen, No mercy for the weeping queen. No chieftain dared to meet those eyes, To pray, to question or advise.

The word was passed, the wood was piled And fain to die stood Janak's child. She slowly paced around her lord, The Gods with reverent act adored, Then raising suppliant hands the dame Prayed humbly to the Lord of Flame: "As this fond heart by virtue swayed From Raghu's son has never strayed, So, universal witness, Fire Protect my body on the pyre, As Raghu's son has idly laid This charge on Sita, hear and aid."

She ceased: and fearless to the last Within the flame's wild fury passed. Then rose a piercing cry from all Dames, children, men, who saw her fall Adorned with gems and gay attire Beneath the fury of the fire.



Canto CXIX. Glory To Vishnu.

The shrill cry pierced through Rama's ears And his sad eyes o'erflowed with tears, When lo, transported through the sky A glorious band of Gods was nigh. Ancestral shades,(1016) by men revered, In venerable state appeared, And he from whom all riches flow,(1017) And Yama Lord who reigns below: King Indra, thousand-eyed, and he Who wields the sceptre of the sea.(1018) The God who shows the blazoned bull,(1019) And Brahma Lord most bountiful By whose command the worlds were made All these on radiant cars conveyed, Brighter than sun-beams, sought the place Where stood the prince of Raghu's race, And from their glittering seats the best Of blessed Gods the chief addressed:

"Couldst thou, the Lord of all, couldst thou, Creator of the worlds, allow Thy queen, thy spouse to brave the fire And give her body to the pyre? Dost thou not yet, supremely wise, Thy heavenly nature recognize?" They ceased: and Rama thus began: "I deem myself a mortal man. Of old Ikshvaku's line, I spring From Dasaratha Kosal's king." He ceased: and Brahma's self replied: "O cast the idle thought aside. Thou art the Lord Narayan, thou The God to whom all creatures bow. Thou art the saviour God who wore Of old the semblance of a boar; Thou he whose discus overthrows All present, past and future foes; Thou Brahma, That whose days extend Without beginning, growth or end; The God, who, bears the bow of horn, Whom four majestic arms adorn; Thou art the God who rules the sense And sways with gentle influence; Thou all-pervading Vishnu Lord Who wears the ever-conquering sword; Thou art the Guide who leads aright, Thou Krishna of unequalled might. Thy hand, O Lord, the hills and plains, And earth with all her life sustains; Thou wilt appear in serpent form When sinks the earth in fire and storm. Queen Sita of the lovely brows Is Lakshmi thy celestial spouse. To free the worlds from Ravan thou Wouldst take the form thou wearest now. Rejoice: the mighty task is done: Rejoice, thou great and glorious one. The tyrant, slain, thy labours end: Triumphant now to heaven ascend. High bliss awaits the devotee Who clings in loving faith to thee, Who celebrates with solemn praise The Lord of ne'er beginning days. On earth below, in heaven above Great joy shall crown his faith and love. And he who loves the tale divine Which tells each glorious deed of thine Through life's fair course shall never know The fierce assault of pain and woe."(1020)



Canto CXX. Sita Restored.

Thus spoke the Self-existent Sire: Then swiftly from the blazing pyre The circling flames were backward rolled, And, raising in his gentle hold Alive unharmed the Maithil dame, The Lord of Fire embodied came. Fair as the morning was her sheen, And gold and gems adorned the queen. Her form in crimson robes arrayed, Her hair was bound in glossy braid. Her wreath was fresh and sweet of scent, Undimmed was every ornament. Then, standing close to Rama'a side, The universal witness cried: "From every blot and blemish free Thy faithful queen returns to thee. In word or deed, in look or mind Her heart from thee has ne'er declined. By force the giant bore away From thy lone cot his helpless prey; And in his bowers securely kept She still has longed for thee and wept. With soft temptation, bribe and threat, He bade the dame her love forget: But, nobly faithful to her lord, Her soul the giant's suit abhorred. Receive, O King, thy queen again, Pure, ever pure from spot and stain."

Still stood the king in thoughtful mood And tears of joy his eyes bedewed. Then to the best of Gods the best Of warrior chiefs his mind expressed:

"'Twas meet that mid the thousands here The searching fire my queen should clear; For long within the giant's bower She dwelt the vassal of his power. For else had many a slanderous tongue Reproaches on mine honour flung, And scorned the king who, love-impelled, His consort from the proof withheld. No doubt had I, but surely knew That Janak's child was pure and true, That, come what might, in good and ill Her faithful heart was with me still. I knew that Ravan could not wrong My queen whom virtue made so strong. I knew his heart would sink and fail, Nor dare her honour to assail, As Ocean, when he raves and roars, Fears to o'erleap his bounding shores. Now to the worlds her truth is shown, And Sita is again mine own. Thus proved before unnumbered eyes, On her pure fame no shadow lies. As heroes to their glory cleave, Mine own dear spouse I ne'er will leave." He ceased: and clasped in fond embrace On his dear breast she hid her face.



Canto CXXI. Dasaratha.

To him Mahesvar thus replied: "O strong-armed hero, lotus-eyed, Thou, best of those who love the right, Hast nobly fought the wondrous fight. Dispelled by thee the doom that spread Through trembling earth and heaven is fled. The worlds exult in light and bliss, And praise thy name, O chief, for this. Now peace to Bharat's heart restore, And bid Kausalya weep no more. Thy face let Queen Kaikeyi see, Let fond Sumitra gaze on thee. The longing of thy friends relieve, The kingdom of thy sires receive. Let sons of gentle Sita born Ikshvaku's ancient line adorn. Then from all care and foemen freed Perform the offering of the steed. In pious gifts thy wealth expend, Then to the home of Gods ascend, Thy sire, this glorious king, behold, Among the blest in heaven enrolled. He comes from where the Immortals dwell: Salute him, for he loves thee well."

His mandate Raghu's sons obeyed, And to their sire obeisance made, Where high he stood above the car In wondrous light that shone afar, His limbs in radiant garments dressed Whereon no spot of dust might rest. When on the son he loved so well The eyes of Dasaratha fell, He strained the hero to his breast And thus with gentle words addressed: "No joy to me is heavenly bliss, For there these eyes my Rama miss. Enrolled on high with saint and sage, Thy woes, dear son, my thoughts engage. Kaikeyi's guile I ne'er forget: Her cruel words will haunt me yet, Which sent thee forth, my son, to roam The forest far from me and home. Now when I look on each dear face, And hold you both in fond embrace, My heart is full of joy to see The sons I love from danger free. Now know I what the Gods designed, And how in Rama's form enshrined The might of Purushottam lay, The tyrant of the worlds to slay. Ah, how Kausalya will rejoice To hear again her darling's voice, And, all thy weary wanderings o'er, To gaze upon thy face once more. Ah blest, for ever blest are they Whose eyes shall see the glorious day Of thy return in joy at last, Thy term of toil and exile past. Ayodhya's lord, begin thy reign, And day by day new glory gain."