Ramayana on War

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

"Where is the dauntless heart that free From terror's chilling touch can see Two stranger warriors, strong as those, Equipped with swords and shafts and bows, With mighty arms and large full eyes, Like glorious children of the skies? Bali my foe, I ween, has sent These chiefs to aid his dark intent. Hence doubt and fear disturb me still, For thousands serve a monarch's will, In borrowed garb they come, and those Who walk disguised are counted foes. With secret thoughts they watch their time, And wound fond hearts that fear no crime. My foe in state affairs is wise, And prudent kings have searching eyes. By other hands they strike the foe: By meaner tools the truth they know. Now to those stranger warriors turn, And, less than king, their purpose learn. Mark well the trick and look of each; Observe his form and note his speech. With care their mood and temper sound, And, if their minds be friendly found, With courteous looks and words begin Their confidence and love to win. Then as my friend and envoy speak, And question what the strangers seek. Ask why equipped with shaft and bow Through this wild maze of wood they go. If they, O chief, at first appear Pure of all guile, in heart sincere, Detect in speech and look the sin And treachery that lurk within."

"Quick, quick! This Vanar host restrain, For heralds never must be slain. To him alone, a wretch untrue, The punishment of death is due Who leaves his master's speech unsaid And speaks another in its stead." Moved by the suppliant speech and prayer Up sprang the prince and cried, forbear. Saved from his wild assailant's blows Again the Rakshas herald rose And borne on light wings to the sky Addressed Sugriva from on high: "O Vanar Monarch, chief endued With power and wonderous fortitude, What answer is my king, the fear And scourge of weeping worlds, to hear?" "Go tell thy lord," Sugriva cried, "Thou, Rama's foe, art thus defied. His arm the guilty Bali slew; Thus, tyrant, shalt thou perish too. Thy sons, thy friends, proud King, and all Thy kith and kin with thee shall fall; And, emptied of the giant's brood, Burnt Lanka be a solitude. Fly to the Sun-God's pathway, go And hide thee deep in hell below: In vain from Rama shalt thou flee Though heavenly warriors fight for thee. Thine arm subdued, securely bold, The Vulture-king infirm and old: But will thy puny strength avail When Raghu's wrathful sons assail? A captive in thy palace lies The lady of the lotus eyes: Thou knowest not how fierce and strong Is he whom thou hast dared to wrong. The best of Raghu's lineage, he Whose conquering hand shall punish thee."

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.]

Away, away the Vanars sped Like locusts o'er the land outspread. To northern realms where rising high The King of Mountains cleaves the sky, Fierce Satabal with vast array Of Vanar warriors led the way. Far southward, as his lord decreed, Wise Hanuman, the Wind-God's seed, With Angad his swift way pursued, And Tara's warlike multitude, Strong Vinata with all his band Betook him to the eastern land, And brave Sushen in eager quest Sped swiftly to the gloomy west. Each Vanar chieftain sought with speed The quarter by his king decreed, While from his legions rose on high The shout and boast and battle cry: "We will restore the dame and beat The robber down beneath our feet. My arm alone shall win the day From Ravan met in single fray, Shall rob the robber of his life, And rescue Rama's captive wife All trembling in her fear and woe. Here, comrades, rest: no farther go: For I will vanquish hell, and she Shall by this arm again be free. The rooted mountains will I rend, The mightiest trees will break and bend, Earth to her deep foundations cleave, And make the calm sea throb and heave. A hundred leagues from steep to steep In desperate bound my feet shall leap. My steps shall tread unchecked and free, Through woods, o'er land and hill and sea, Range as they list from flood to fell, And wander through the depths of hell."

Obedient to the words he spake They hastened forth the foe to take. Swift were the cars whereon they rode, And bright their weapons flashed and glowed. They saw: they charged in wild career With sword and mace and axe and spear. From Durdhar's bow five arrows sped And quivered in the Vanar's head. He rose and roared: the fearful sound Made all the region echo round. Then from above his weight he threw On Durdhar's car that near him drew. The weight that came with lightning speed Crushed pole and axle, car and steed. It shattered Durdhar's head and neck, And left him lifeless mid the wreck. Yupaksha saw the warrior die, And Virupaksha heard his cry, And, mad for vengeance for the slain, They charged their Vanar foe again. He rose in air: they onward pressed And fiercely smote him on the breast. In vain they struck his iron frame: With eagle swoop to earth he came, Tore from the ground a tree that grew Beside him, and the demons slew. Then Bhasakama raised his spear, And Praghas with a laugh drew near, And, maddened at the sight, the two Against the undaunted Vanar flew. As from his wounds the torrents flowed, Like a red sun the Vanar showed. He turned, a mountain peak to seize With all its beasts and snakes and trees. He hurled it on the pair: and they Crushed, overwhelmed, beneath it lay.

Loud as the angry ocean's roar When wild waves lash the rocky shore, Ten thousand thousand throats upsent A shout that tore the firmament, And Lanka with each grove and brook And tower and wall and rampart shook. The giants heard, and were appalled: Then Raghu's son to Angad called, And, led by kingly duty,(950) gave This order merciful as brave: "Go, Angad, Ravan's presence seek, And thus my words of warning speak: "How art thou changed and fallen now, O Monarch of the giants, thou Whose impious fury would not spare Saint, nymph, or spirit of the air; Whose foot in haughty triumph trod On Yaksha, king, and Serpent God: How art thou fallen from thy pride Which Brahma's favour fortified! With myriads at thy Lanka's gate I stand my righteous ire to sate, And punish thee with sword and flame, The tyrant fiend who stole my dame. Now show the might, employ the guile, O Monarch of the giants' isle, Which stole a helpless dame away: Call up thy power and strength to-day. Once more I warn thee, Rakshas King, This hour the Maithil lady bring, And, yielding while there yet is time, Seek, suppliant, pardon for the crime, Or I will leave beneath the sun No living Rakshas, no, not one. In vain from battle wilt thou fly, Or borne on pinions seek the sky; The hand of Rama shall not spare; His fiery shaft shall smite thee there.' "

Thus with Sugriva, from the side Of Rishyamuka, Rama hied, And stood before Kishkindha's gate Where Bali kept his regal state. The hero in his warrior hold Raised his great bow adorned with gold, And drew his pointed arrow bright As sunbeams, finisher of fight. Strong-necked Sugriva led the way With Lakshman mighty in the fray. Nala and Nila came behind With Hanuman of lofty mind, And valiant Tara, last in place, A leader of the Vanar race. They gazed on many a tree that showed The glory of its pendent load, And brook and limpid rill that made Sweet murmurs as they seaward strayed. They looked on caverns dark and deep, On bower and glen and mountain steep, And saw the opening lotus stud With roseate cup the crystal flood, While crane and swan and coot and drake Made pleasant music on the lake, And from the reedy bank was heard The note of many a happy bird. In open lawns, in tangled ways, They saw the tall deer stand at gaze, Or marked them free and fearless roam, Fed with sweet grass, their woodland home. At times two flashing tusks between The wavings of the wood were seen, And some mad elephant, alone, Like a huge moving hill, was shown. And scarcely less in size appeared Great monkeys all with dust besmeared. And various birds that roam the skies, And silvan creatures, met their eyes, As through the wood the chieftains sped, And followed where Sugriva led.

Thus Rama spoke: the chiefs obeyed; And all the Vanar hosts arrayed Showed awful as the autumn sky When clouds embattled form on high. Their arms were mighty trees o'erthrown, And massy blocks of mountain stone. One hope in every warlike breast, One firm resolve, they onward pressed, To die in fight or batter down The walls and towers of Lanka's town.

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

Nor could their matchless valour shield These heroes on the battle field. I sorrow for the noble dead, I mourn my hopes for ever fled; But chief my weeping eyes o'erflow For Queen Kausalya's hopeless woe. The widowed queen is counting now Each hour prescribed by Rama's vow, And lives because she longs to see Once more her princely sons and me."

"Yet more remain, brave chiefs who stake Their noble lives for Rama's sake. See, glorious, golden-coated, one Who glisters like the morning sun, Whom thousands of his race surround, 'Tis Hara for his strength renowned. Next comes a mighty chieftain, he Whose legions, armed with rock and tree, Press on, in numbers passing tale, The ramparts of our town to scale. O Ravan, see the king advance Terrific with his fiery glance, Girt by the bravest of his train, Majestic as the God of Rain, Parjanya, when his host of clouds About the king, embattled, crowds: On Rikshavan's high mountain nursed, In Narmada(940) he slakes his thirst, Dhumra, proud ursine chief, who leads Wild warriors whom the forest breeds. His brother, next in strength and age, In Jambavan the famous sage. Of yore his might and skill he lent To him who rules the firmament, And Indra's liberal boons repaid The chieftain for the timely aid. There like a gloomy cloud that flies Borne by the tempest through the skies, Pramathi stands: he roamed of yore The forest wilds on Ganga's shore, Where elephants were struck with dread And trembling at his coming fled. There on his foes he loved to sate The old hereditary hate.(941) Look, Gaja and Gavaksha show Their lust of battle with the foe. See Nala burning for the fray, And Nila chafing at delay. Behind the eager captains press Wild hosts in numbers numberless, And each for Rama's sake would fall Or force his way through Lanka's wall."

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

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

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."

One awful demon, fiery-eyed, Stood by the Maithil queen and cried: 'Come and be his, if thou art wise, Who smote the sovereign of the skies, And made the thirty Gods and three,(839) O'ercome in furious battle, flee. Thy lover turns away with scorn From wives whom grace and youth adorn. Thou art his chosen consort, thou Shall be his pride and darling now."

But Ravan, as his fury burned, His eyes on youthful Aksha(877) turned, Who rose impetuous at his glance And shouted for his bow and lance. He rode upon a glorious car That shot the light of gems afar. His pennon waved mid glittering gold And bright the wheels with jewels rolled, By long and fierce devotion won That car was splendid as the sun. With rows of various weapons stored; And thought-swift horses whirled their lord Racing along the earth, or rose High through the clouds whene'er he chose. Then fierce and fearful war between The Vanar and the fiend was seen. The Gods and Asurs stood amazed, And on the wondrous combat gazed. A cry from earth rose long and shrill, The wind was hushed, the sun grew chill. The thunder bellowed from the sky, And troubled ocean roared reply. Thrice Aksha strained his dreadful bow, Thrice smote his arrow on the foe, And with full streams of crimson bled Three gashes in the Vanar's head. Then rose Hanuman in the air To shun the shafts no life could bear. But Aksha in his car pursued, And from on high the fight renewed With storm of arrows, thick as hail When angry clouds some hill assail. Impatient of that arrowy shower The Vanar chief put forth his power, Again above his chariot rose And smote him with repeated blows. Terrific came each deadly stroke: Breast neck and arm and back he broke; And Aksha fell to earth, and lay With all his life-blood drained away.

The palace gates were guarded well By many a Rakshas sentinel, And far within, concealed from view, Were dames and female retinue For charm of form and face renowned; Whose tinkling armlets made a sound, Clashed by the wearers in their glee, Like music of a distant sea. The hall beyond the palace gate, Rich with each badge of royal state, Where lines of noble courtiers stood, Showed like a lion-guarded wood. There the wild music rose and fell Of drum and tabor and of shell, Through chambers at each holy tide By solemn worship sanctified. Through grove and garden, undismayed, From house to house the Vanar strayed, And still his wondering glances bent On terrace, dome, and battlement: Then with a light and rapid tread Prahasta's(807) home he visited, And Kumbhakarna's(808) courtyard where A cloudy pile rose high in air; And, wandering o'er the hill, explored The garden of each Rakshas lord. Each court and grove he wandered through, Then nigh to Ravan's palace drew. She-demons watched it foul of face, Each armed with sword and spear and mace, And warrior fiends of every hue, A strange and fearful retinue. There elephants in many a row, The terror of the stricken foe. Huge Airavat,(809) deftly trained In battle-fields, stood ready chained. Fair litters on the ground were set Adorned with gems and golden net. Gay bloomy creepers clothed the walls; Green bowers were there and picture halls, And chambers made for soft delight. Broad banners waved on every height. And from the roof like Mandar's hill The peacock's cry came loud and shrill.(810)

The host, compelled by Bharat's care, The wood from trampling feet to spare, Dense crowding half a league each way Encamped around the mountain lay. Below the tall hill's shelving side Gleamed the bright army far and wide Spread o'er the ample space, By Bharat led who firmly true In duty from his bosom threw All pride, and near his brother drew To win the hero's grace.

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

Then Rama, peerless in the skill That marks each sign of good and ill, Strained his dear brother to his breast, And thus with prudent words addressed: "Now, Lakshman, by the water's side In fruitful groves the host divide, That warriors of each woodland race May keep their own appointed place. Dire is the danger: loss of friends, Of Vanars and of bears, impends. Distained with dust the breezes blow, And earth is shaken from below. The tall hills rock from foot to crown, And stately trees come toppling down. In threatening shape, with voice of fear, The clouds like cannibals appear, And rain in fitful torrents, red With sanguinary drops, is shed. Long streaks of lurid light invest The evening skies from east to west. And from the sun at times a ball Of angry fire is seen to fall. From every glen and brake is heard The boding voice of beast and bird: From den and lair night-prowlers run And shriek against the falling sun. Up springs the moon, but hot and red Kills the sad night with woe and dread; No gentle lustre, but the gloom That heralds universal doom. A cloud of dust and vapour mars The beauty of the evening stars, And wild and fearful is the sky As though the wreck of worlds were nigh. Around our heads in boding flight Wheel hawk and vulture, crow and kite; And every bird of happy note Shrieks terror from his altered throat. Sword, spear and shaft shall strew the plain Dyed red with torrents of the slain. To-day the Vanar troops shall close Around the city of our foes."

Thus Bharat spoke: each peer and lord Approved his words with one accord, And bade the weary troops repose In separate spots where'er they chose. There by the mighty stream that day, Most glorious in its vast array The prince's wearied army lay In various groups reclined. There Bharat's hours of night were spent, While every eager thought he bent On bringing home from banishment His brother, great of mind.

Cast not away in hopeless strife Thy realm, thy bliss, thine own dear life. O Ravan of his might beware, A God of Death who will not spare. That bow he knows so well to draw Is the destroyer's flaming jaw, And with his shafts which flash and glow He slays the armies of the foe. Thou ne'er canst win--the thought forego-- From the safe guard of shaft and bow King Janak's child, the dear delight Of Rama unapproached in might. The spouse of Raghu's son, confessed Lion of men with lion chest,-- Dearer than life, through good and ill Devoted to her husband's will, The slender-waisted, still must be From thy polluting touches free. Far better grasp with venturous hand The flame to wildest fury fanned. What, King of giants, canst thou gain From this attempt so wild and vain? If in the fight his eye he bend Upon thee, Lord, thy days must end, So life and bliss and royal sway, Lost beyond hope, will pass away. Summon each lord of high estate, And chief, Vibhishan(490) to debate. With peers in lore of counsel tried Consider, reason, and decide Scan strength and weakness, count the cost, What may be gained and what be lost. Examine and compare aright Thy proper power and Rama's might, Then if thy weal be still thy care, Thou wilt be prudent and forbear. O giant King, the contest shun, Thy force is all too weak The lord of Kosal's mighty son In deadly fray to seek. King of the hosts that rove at night, O hear what I advise: My prudent counsel do not slight; Be patient and be wise."

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

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

A guilty hope inflames thy breast His wife from Rama's home to wrest. Ah fool, the hope thou hast is vain; Thy dreams of bliss shall end in pain. If torn from all I love by thee My godlike lord no more I see, Soon will I die and end my woes, Nor live the captive of my foes. Ah fool, with blinded eyes to choose The evil and the good refuse! So the sick wretch with stubborn will Turns fondly to the cates that kill, And madly draws his lips away From medicine that would check decay. About thy neck securely wound The deadly coil of Fate is bound, And thou, O Ravan, dost not fear Although the hour of death is near. With death-doomed sight thine eyes behold The gleaming of the trees of gold,-- See dread Vaitarani, the flood That rolls a stream of foamy blood,-- See the dark wood by all abhorred-- Its every leaf a threatening sword. The tangled thickets thou shall tread Where thorns with iron points are spread. For never can thy days be long, Base plotter of this shame and wrong To Rama of the lofty soul: He dies who drinks the poisoned bowl. The coils of death around thee lie: They hold thee and thou canst not fly. Ah whither, tyrant, wouldst thou run The vengeance of my lord to shun? By his unaided arm alone Were twice seven thousand fiends o'erthrown: Yes, in the twinkling of an eye He forced thy mightiest fiends to die. And shall that lord of lion heart, Skilled in the bow and spear and dart, Spare thee, O fiend, in battle strife, The robber of his darling wife?"

Vibhishan bowed his head and cried: "Thy conquering army will I guide To storm the city of the foe, And aid the tyrant's overthrow." Thus spake Vibhishan: Rama pressed The Rakshas chieftain to his breast, And cried to Lakshman: "Haste and bring Sea-water for the new-made king." He spoke, and o'er Vibhishan's head The consecrating drops were shed Mid shouts that hailed with one accord The giants' king and Lanka's lord.

When Bharat viewed his followers there, And Ganga's water, blest and fair, The prince, who lore of words possessed, His councillors and lords addressed: "The captains of the army call: Proclaim this day a halt for all, That so to-morrow, rested, we May cross this flood that seeks the sea. Meanwhile, descending to the shore, The funeral stream I fain would pour From Ganga's fair auspicious tide To him, my father glorified."

There lay, by Rama's missiles rent, Full many a priceless ornament, With severed limb and broken gem, Hauberk and helm and diadem. There lay the shattered car, the steed, The elephant of noblest breed, The splintered spear, the shivered mace, Chouris and screens to shade the face. The giants saw with bitterest pain Their warriors weltering on the plain, Nor dared again his might oppose Who scourged the cities of his foes.

Forth went the seven in brave attire, In glory brilliant as the fire, Impetuous chiefs with massive bows, The quellers of a host of foes: Trained from their youth in martial lore, And masters of the arms they bore: Each emulous and fiercely bold, And banners wrought with glittering gold Waved o'er their chariots, drawn at speed By coursers of the noblest breed. On through the ruins of the grove At Hanuman they fiercely drove, And from the ponderous bows they strained A shower of deadly arrows rained. Then scarce was seen the Vanar's form Enveloped in the arrowy storm. So stands half veiled the Mountains' King When rainy clouds about him cling. By nimble turn, by rapid bound He shunned the shafts that rained around, Eluding, as in air he rose, The rushing chariots of his foes. The mighty Vanar undismayed Amid his archer foemen played, As plays the frolic wind on high Mid bow-armed(876) clouds that fill the sky. He raised a mighty roar and yell That fear on all the army fell, And then, his warrior soul aglow With fury, rushed upon the foe, Some with his open hand he beat To death and trampled with his feet; Some with fierce nails he rent and slew, And others with his fists o'erthrew; Some with his legs, as on he rushed, Some with his bulky chest he crushed; While some struck senseless by his roar Dropped on the ground and breathed no more, The remnant, seized with sudden dread, Turned from the grove and wildly fled. The trampled earth was thickly strown With steed and car and flag o'erthrown, And the red blood in rivers flowed From slaughtered fiends o'er path and road.

The wise Sumantra, thus addressed, Obeyed the high-souled chief's behest. He hurried forth with joy inspired And gave the orders he desired. Delight each soldier's bosom filled, And through each chief and captain thrilled, To hear that march proclaimed, to bring Dear Rama back from wandering. From house to house the tidings flew: Each soldier's wife the order knew, And as she listened blithe and gay Her husband urged to speed away. Captain and soldier soon declared The host equipped and all prepared With chariots matching thought for speed, And wagons drawn by ox and steed. When Bharat by Vasishtha's side, His ready host of warriors eyed, Thus in Sumantra's ear he spoke: "My car and horses quickly yoke." Sumantra hastened to fulfil With ready joy his master's will, And quickly with the chariot sped Drawn by fleet horses nobly bred. Then glorious Bharat, true, devout, Whose genuine valour none could doubt, Gave in fit words his order out; For he would seek the shade Of the great distant wood, and there Win his dear brother with his prayer: "Sumantra, haste! my will declare The host be all arrayed. I to the wood my way will take, To Rama supplication make, And for the world's advantage sake, Will lead him home again." Then, ordered thus, the charioteer Who listened with delighted ear, Went forth and gave his orders clear To captains of the train. He gave the popular chiefs the word, And with the news his friends he stirred, And not a single man deferred Preparing for the road. Then Brahman, Warrior, Merchant, thrall, Obedient to Sumantra's call, Each in his house arose, and all Yoked elephant or camel tall, Or ass or noble steed in stall, And full appointed showed.

Then Bharadvaja spoke, a smile Playing upon his lips the while: "I know, dear Prince, thy friendly mind Will any fare sufficient find, But gladly would I entertain And banquet all thine armed train: Such is my earnest wish: do thou This longing of my heart allow, Why hast thou hither bent thy way, And made thy troops behind thee stay? Why unattended? couldst thou not With friends and army seek this spot?"

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

Then Rama and his brother bent, And did obeisance reverent With suppliant hand and lowly head, Then with Sugriva onward sped. Beyond the sainted Seven's abode Far on their way the chieftains strode, And great Kishkindha's portal gained, The royal town where Bali reigned. Then by the gate they took their stand All ready armed a noble band, And burning every one To slay in battle, hand to hand, Their foeman, Indra's son.

Whoe'er this noble poem reads That tells the tale of Rama's deeds, Good as the Scriptures, he shall be From every sin and blemish free. Whoever reads the saving strain, With all his kin the heavens shall gain. Brahmans who read shall gather hence The highest praise for eloquence. The warrior, o'er the land shall reign, The merchant, luck in trade obtain; And Sudras listening(42) ne'er shall fail To reap advantage from the tale.(43)

Then, thus addressed, the saint, well pleased, The fury of his wrath appeased. The king, o'erpowered and ashamed, With many a deep-drawn sigh exclaimed: "Ah! Warriors' strength is poor and slight; A Brahman's power is truly might. This Brahman staff the hermit held The fury of my darts has quelled. This truth within my heart impressed, With senses ruled and tranquil breast My task austere will I begin, And Brahmanhood will strive to win."

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

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

The haughty challenge, undeterred The son of Dasaratha heard, And cried, while reverence for his sire Checked the full torrent of his ire: "Before this day have I been told The deed that stained thy hands of old. But pity bids my soul forget: Thy father, murdered, claimed the debt. My strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight, Too feeble for a Warrior's might. Now will I show thy wondering eyes The prowess which they dare despise."

So Bharat with his army spent The watches of the night content, And gladly, with the morning's light Drew near his host the anchorite. When Bharadvaja saw him stand With hand in reverence joined to hand, When fires of worship had been fed, He looked upon the prince and said: "O blameless son, I pray thee tell, Did the past night content thee well? Say if the feast my care supplied Thy host of followers gratified."

Then Rama, having slain in fight Viradha of terrific might, With gentle words his spouse consoled, And clasped her in his loving hold. Then to his brother nobly brave The valiant prince his counsel gave: "Wild are these woods around us spread; And hard and rough the ground to tread: We, O my brother, ne'er have viewed So dark and drear a solitude: To Sarabhanga let us haste, Whom wealth of holy works has graced."

In suppliant tone the Vanar prayed, And Raghu's son his answer made: "By Lakshman's hand this flowery twine Was wound about thee for a sign. The wreath of giant creeper throws About thy form its brillant glows, As though about the sun were set The bright stars for a coronet. One shaft of mine this day, dear friend, Thy sorrow and thy fear shall end. And, from the bowstring freed, shall be Giver of freedom, King, to thee. Then come, Sugriva, quickly show, Where'er he lie, thy bitter foe; And let my glance the wretch descry Whose deeds, a brother's name belie. Yea, soon in dust and blood o'erthrown Shall Bali fall and gasp and groan. Once let this eye the foeman see, Then, if he live to turn and flee, Despise my puny strength, and shame With foul opprobrium Rama's name. Hast thou not seen his hand, O King, Through seven tall trees one arrow wing? Still in that strength securely trust, And deem thy foeman in the dust. In all my days, though surely tried By grief and woe, I ne'er have lied; And still by duty's law restrained Will ne'er with falsehood's charge be stained. Cast doubt away: the oath I sware Its kindly fruit shall quickly bear, As smiles the land with golden grain By mercy of the Lord of rain. Oh, warrior to the gate I defy Thy foe with shout and battle-cry, Till Bali with his chain of gold Come speeding from his royal hold. Proud hearts, with warlike fire aglow, Brook not the challenge of a foe: Each on his power and might relies, And most before his ladies eyes. King Bali loves the fray too well To linger in his citadel, And, when he hears thy battle-shout, All wild for war will hasten out."

He spoke, and raised the cord whereon A pointed arrow flashed and shone, Then, wild with anger, from his bow, He launched the weapon on the foe. Seven times the fatal cord he drew, And forth seven rapid arrows flew, Shafts winged with gold that left the wind And e'en Suparna's(406) self behind. Full on the giant's breast they smote, And purpled like the peacock's throat, Passed through his mighty bulk and came To earth again like flakes of flame. The fiend the Maithil dame unclasped; In his fierce hand his spear he grasped, And wild with rage, pierced through and through, At Rama and his brother flew. So loud the roar which chilled with fear, So massy was the monster's spear, He seemed, like Indra's flagstaff, dread As the dark God who rules the dead. On huge Viradha fierce as He(407) Who smites, and worlds have ceased to be, The princely brothers poured amain Their fiery flood of arrowy rain. Unmoved he stood, and opening wide His dire mouth laughed unterrified, And ever as the monster gaped Those arrows from his jaws escaped. Preserving still his life unharmed, By Brahma's saving promise charmed, His mighty spear aloft in air He raised, and rushed upon the pair. From Rama's bow two arrows flew And cleft that massive spear in two, Dire as the flaming levin sent From out the cloudy firmament. Cut by the shafts he guided well To earth the giant's weapon fell: As when from Meru's summit, riven By fiery bolts, a rock is driven. Then swift his sword each warrior drew, Like a dread serpent black of hue, And gathering fury for the blow Rushed fiercely on the giant foe. Around each prince an arm he cast, And held the dauntless heroes fast: Then, though his gashes gaped and bled, Bearing the twain he turned and fled.

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

Thus by the mighty Sire addressed They all obeyed his high behest, And thus begot in countless swarms Brave sons disguised in sylvan forms. Each God, each sage became a sire, Each minstrel of the heavenly quire,(112) Each faun,(113) of children strong and good Whose feet should roam the hill and wood. Snakes, bards,(114) and spirits,(115) serpents bold Had sons too numerous to be told. Bali, the woodland hosts who led, High as Mahendra's(116) lofty head, Was Indra's child. That noblest fire, The Sun, was great Sugriva's sire, Tara, the mighty monkey, he Was offspring of Vrihaspati:(117) Tara the matchless chieftain, boast For wisdom of the Vanar host. Of Gandhamadan brave and bold The father was the Lord of Gold. Nala the mighty, dear to fame, Of skilful Visvakarma(118) came. From Agni,(119) Nila bright as flame, Who in his splendour, might, and worth, Surpassed the sire who gave him birth. The heavenly Asvins,(120) swift and fair, Were fathers of a noble pair, Who, Dwivida and Mainda named, For beauty like their sires were famed, Varun(121) was father of Sushen, Of Sarabh, he who sends the rain,(122) Hanuman, best of monkey kind, Was son of him who breathes the wind: Like thunderbolt in frame was he, And swift as Garud's(123) self could flee. These thousands did the Gods create Endowed with might that none could mate, In monkey forms that changed at will; So strong their wish the fiend to kill. In mountain size, like lions thewed, Up sprang the wondrous multitude, Auxiliar hosts in every shape, Monkey and bear and highland ape. In each the strength, the might, the mien Of his own parent God were seen. Some chiefs of Vanar mothers came, Some of she-bear and minstrel dame, Skilled in all arms in battle's shock; The brandished tree, the loosened rock; And prompt, should other weapons fail, To fight and slay with tooth and nail.

When, of the thousand years ordained, Ten only unfulfilled remained, Thus to her son, the Thousand-eyed, The Goddess in her triumph cried: "Best of the mighty! there remain But ten short years of toil and pain; These years of penance soon will flee, And a new brother thou shalt see. Him for thy sake I'll nobly breed, And lust of war his soul shall feed; Then free from care and sorrow thou Shalt see the worlds before him bow."(212)

That night the son of Raghu lay On Ganga's bank till break of day: Then with the earliest light he woke And thus to brave Satrughna spoke. "Rise up, Satrughna, from thy bed: Why sleepest thou the night is fled. See how the sun who chases night Wakes every lotus with his light. Arise, arise, and first of all The lord of Sringavera call, For he his friendly aid will lend Our army o'er the flood to send."

Then Vishnu, God of Gods, the Lord Supreme by all the worlds adored, To Brahma and the suppliants spake: "Dismiss your fear: for your dear sake In battle will I smite him dead, The cruel fiend, the Immortal's dread. And lords and ministers and all His kith and kin with him shall fall. Then, in the world of mortal men, Ten thousand years and hundreds ten I as a human king will reign, And guard the earth as my domain."

Thus humbly spoke in sad lament The chief in fame preeminent: Thus, by his reverent lords obeyed, At Nandigram the kingdom swayed. With hermit's dress and matted hair He dwelt with all his army there. The sandals of his brother's feet Installed upon the royal seat, He, all his powers to them referred, Affairs of state administered. In every care, in every task, When golden store was brought, He first, as though their rede to ask, Those royal sandals sought.

"This vilest of the giant race Will draw us to his side apace. Come, rouse thee; let the vengeful sword Smite off his arms, my honoured lord. This awful giant, vast of size, On his huge strength of arm relies, And o'er the world victorious, thus With mighty force would slaughter us. But in cold blood to slay, O King, Discredit on the brave would bring, As when some victim in the rite Shuns not the hand upraised to smite."

Take then the respite of a night And yield thee to each soft delight. Then, monarch of the Vanar race With loving arms thy friends embrace. Gifts on thy faithful lords bestow, Bid each and all farewell, and go. Show in the streets once more thy face, Install thy son to fill thy place. Dally a while with each dear dame; And then my strength thy pride shall tame For, should I smite thee drunk with wine Enamoured of those dames of thine, Beneath diseases bowed and bent, Or weak, unarmed, or negligent, My deed would merit hate and scorn As his who slays the child unborn." Then Bali's soul with rage was fired, Queen Tara and the dames retired; And slowly, with a laugh of pride, The king of Vanars thus replied: "Me, fiend, thou deemest drunk with wine: Unless thy fear the fight decline, Come, meet me in the fray, and test The spirit of my valiant breast." He spoke in wrath and high disdain; And, laying down his golden chain, Gift of his sire Mahendra, dared The demon, for the fray prepared; Seized by the horns the monster, vast As a huge hill, and held him fast, Then fiercely dragged him round and round, And, shouting, hurled him to the ground. Blood streaming from his ears, he rose, And wild with fury strove the foes. Then Bali, match for Indra's might, With every arm renewed the fight. He fought with fists, and feet, and knees, With fragments of the rock, and trees. At last the monster's strength, assailed By Sakra's(572) conquering offspring, failed. Him Bali raised with mighty strain And dashed upon the ground again; Where, bruised and shattered, in a tide Of rushing blood, the demon died. King Bali saw the lifeless corse, And bending, with tremendous force Raised the huge bulk from where it lay, And hurled it full a league away.

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

Thus spake the sovereign of the sky, And this was Rama's glad reply: "If I have won your grace, incline To grant this one request of mine. Restore, O King: the Vanar dead Whose blood for me was nobly shed. To life and strength my friends recall, And bring them back from Yama's hall. When, fresh in might the warriors rise, Prepare a feast to glad their eyes. Let fruits of every season glow, And streams of purest water flow."

Then with his heart consumed with woe, Still brooding on his overthrow By the great saint he had defied, At every breath the monarch sighed. Forth from his home his queen he led, And to a land far southward fled. There, fruit and roots his only food, He practised penance, sense-subdued, And in that solitary spot Four virtuous sons the king begot: Havishyand, from the offering named, And Madhushyand, for sweetness famed, Maharath, chariot-borne in fight, And Dridhanetra strong of sight.

Thus entertained he passed the night, Then, with the morning's early light, To all the hermits bade adieu And sought his onward way anew. He pierced the mighty forest where Roamed many a deer and pard and bear: Its ruined pools he scarce could see. For creeper rent and prostrate tree, Where shrill cicada's cries were heard, And plaintive notes of many a bird. Deep in the thickets of the wood With Lakshman and his spouse he stood, There in the horrid shade he saw A giant passing nature's law: Vast as some mountain-peak in size, With mighty voice and sunken eyes, Huge, hideous, tall, with monstrous face, Most ghastly of his giant race. A tiger's hide the Rakshas wore Still reeking with the fat and gore: Huge-faced, like Him who rules the dead, All living things he struck with dread. Three lions, tigers four, ten deer He carried on his iron spear, Two wolves, an elephant's head beside With mighty tusks which blood-drops dyed. When on the three his fierce eye fell, He charged them with a roar and yell As furious as the grisly King When stricken worlds are perishing. Then with a mighty roar that shook The earth beneath their feet, he took The trembling Sita to his side. Withdrew a little space, and cried: "Ha, short lived wretches, ye who dare, In hermit dress with matted hair, Armed each with arrows, sword, and bow, Through Dandak's pathless wood to go: How with one dame, I bid you tell, Can you among ascetics dwell? Who are ye, sinners, who despise The right, in holy men's disguise? The great Viradha, day by day Through this deep-tangled wood I stray, And ever, armed with trusty steel, I seize a saint to make my meal. This woman young and fair of frame Shall be the conquering giant's dame: Your blood, ye things of evil life, My lips shall quaff in battle strife."

He ceased: they scorned, with blinded eyes, The foeman and his bold allies, Raised reverent hands with one accord, And thus made answer to their lord: "Why yield thee, King, to causeless fear? A mighty host with sword and spear And mace and axe and pike and lance Waits but thy signal to advance. Art thou not he who slew of old The Serpent-Gods, and stormed their hold; Scaled Mount Kailasa and o'erthrew Kuvera(910) and his Yaksha crew, Compelling Siva's haughty friend Beneath a mightier arm to bend? Didst thou not bring from realms afar The marvel of the magic car, When they who served Kuvera fell Crushed in their mountain citadel? Attracted by thy matchless fame To thee, a suppliant, Maya came, The lord of every Danav band, And won thee with his daughter's hand. Thy arm in hell itself was felt, Where Vasuki(911) and Sankha dwelt, And they and Takshak, overthrown, Were forced thy conquering might to own. The Gods in vain their blessing gave To heroes bravest of the brave, Who strove a year and, sorely pressed, Their victor's peerless might confessed. In vain their magic arts they tried, In vain thy matchless arm defied King Varun's sons with fourfold force, Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse, But for a while thy power withstood, And, conquered, mourned their hardihood. Thou hast encountered, face to face, King Yama(912) with his murdering mace. Fierce as the wild tempestuous sea, What terror had his wrath for thee, Though death in every threatening form, And woe and torment, urged the storm? Thine arm a glorious victory won O'er the dread king who pities none; And the three worlds, from terror freed, In joyful wonder praised thy deed. The tribe of Warriors, strong and dread As Indra's self, o'er earth had spread; As giant trees that towering stand In mountain glens, they filled the land. Can Raghu's son encounter foes Fierce, numerous, and strong as those?

Thus spoke the tamer of the foe, And by the middle grasped his bow. Strongly he drew the sounding string That made the distant welkin ring. Scared by the mighty clang the deer That roamed the forest shook with fear, And Tadaka the echo heard, And rose in haste from slumber stirred. In wild amaze, her soul aflame With fury toward the spot she came. When that foul shape of evil mien And stature vast as e'er was seen The wrathful son of Raghu eyed, He thus unto his brother cried: "Her dreadful shape, O Lakshman, see, A form to shudder at and flee. The hideous monster's very view Would cleave a timid heart in two. Behold the demon hard to smite, Defended by her magic might. My hand shall stay her course to-day, And shear her nose and ears away. No heart have I her life to take: I spare it for her sex's sake. My will is but, with minished force, To check her in her evil course." While thus he spoke, by rage impelled Roaring as she came nigh, The fiend her course at Rama held With huge arms tossed on high. Her, rushing on, the seer assailed With a loud cry of hate; And thus the sons of Raghu hailed: "Fight, and be fortunate." Then from the earth a horrid cloud Of dust the demon raised, And for awhile in darkling shroud Wrapt Raghu's sons amazed. Then calling on her magic power The fearful fight to wage, She smote him with a stony shower, Till Rama burned with rage. Then pouring forth his arrowy rain That stony flood to stay, With winged darts, as she charged amain, He shore her hands away. As Tadaka still thundered near Thus maimed by Rama's blows, Lakshman in fury severed sheer The monster's ears and nose. Assuming by her magic skill A fresh and fresh disguise, She tried a thousand shapes at will, Then vanished from their eyes.

And now the night had past away; Out shone the Maker of the Day, Bringing the planetary hour And moment of auspicious power. Vasishtha, virtuous, far renowned, Whose young disciples girt him round, With sacred things without delay Through the fair city took his way. He traversed, where the people thronged, And all for Rama's coming longed, The town as fair in festive show As his who lays proud cities low.(278) He reached the palace where he heard The mingled notes of many a bird, Where crowded thick high-honoured bands Of guards with truncheons in their hands. Begirt by many a sage, elate, Vasishtha reached the royal gate, And standing by the door he found Sumantra, for his form renowned, The king's illustrious charioteer And noble counsellor and peer. To him well skilled in every part Of his hereditary art Vasishtha said: "O charioteer, Inform the king that I am here, Here ready by my side behold These sacred vessels made of gold, Which water for the rite contain From Ganga and each distant main. Here for installing I have brought The seat prescribed of fig-wood wrought, All kinds of seed and precious scent And many a gem and ornament; Grain, sacred grass, the garden's spoil, Honey and curds and milk and oil; Eight radiant maids, the best of all War elephants that feed in stall; A four-horse car, a bow and sword. A litter, men to bear their lord; A white umbrella bright and fair That with the moon may well compare; Two chouries of the whitest hair; A golden beaker rich and rare; A bull high-humped and fair to view, Girt with gold bands and white of hue; A four-toothed steed with flowing mane, A throne which lions carved sustain; A tiger's skin, the sacred fire, Fresh kindled, which the rites require; The best musicians skilled to play, And dancing-girls in raiment gay; Kine, Brahmans, teachers fill the court, And bird and beast of purest sort.

The prince of men a league away Saw where the hermit's dwelling lay, Then with his lords his path pursued, And left his warrior multitude. On foot, as duty taught his mind, He left his warlike gear behind; Two robes of linen cloth he wore, And bade Vasishtha walk before. Then Bharat from his lords withdrew When Bharadvaja came in view, And toward the holy hermit went Behind Vasishtha, reverent. When Bharadvaja, saint austere, Saw good Vasishtha drawing near, He cried, upspringing from his seat, "The grace-gift bring, my friend to greet." When Saint Vasishtha near him drew, And Bharat paid the reverence due, The glorious hermit was aware That Dasaratha's son was there. The grace-gift, water for their feet He gave, and offered fruit to eat; Then, duty-skilled, with friendly speech In seemly order questioned each: "How fares it in Ayodhya now With treasury and army? how With kith and kin and friends most dear, With councillor, and prince, and peer?" But, for he knew the king was dead, Of Dasaratha naught he said. Vasishtha and the prince in turn Would of the hermit's welfare learn: Of holy fires they fain would hear, Of pupils, trees, and birds, and deer. The glorious saint his answer made That all was well in holy shade: Then love of Rama moved his breast, And thus he questioned of his guest: "Why art thou here, O Prince, whose band With kingly sway protects the land? Declare the cause, explain the whole, For yet some doubt disturbs my soul. He whom Kausalya bare, whose might The foemen slays, his line's delight, He who with wife and brother sent Afar now roam in banishment, Famed prince, to whom his father spake This order for a woman's sake: "Away! and in the forest spend Thy life till fourteen years shall end"-- Has thou the wish to harm him, bent On sin against the innocent? Wouldst thou thine elder's realm enjoy Without a thorn that can annoy?"

The strong-armed hero spake, and ran Forward to meet the sunbright man. Before him, as he came, he bent And clasped his feet most reverent, Then rearing up his stately height Stood suppliant by the anchorite, While Lakshman's strength and Sita's grace Stood by the pride of Raghu's race. The sage his arms round Rama threw And welcomed him with honours due, Asked, was all well, with question sweet, And bade the hero to a seat. With holy oil he fed the flame, He brought the gifts which strangers claim, And kindly waiting on the three With honours due to high degree, He gave with hospitable care A simple hermit's woodland fare. Then sat the reverend father, first Of hermits, deep in duty versed. And thus to suppliant Rama, bred In all the lore of virtue, said: "Did the false hermit, Prince, neglect To hail his guest with due respect, He must,--the doom the perjured meet,-- His proper flesh hereafter eat. A car-borne king, a lord who sways The earth, and virtue's law obeys, Worthy of highest honour, thou Hast sought, dear guest, my cottage now." He spoke: with fruit and hermit fare, With every bloom the branches bare, Agastya graced his honoured guest, And thus with gentle words addressed: "Accept this mighty bow, divine, Whereon red gold and diamonds shine; 'Twas by the Heavenly Artist planned For Vishnu's own almighty hand; This God-sent shaft of sunbright hue, Whose deadly flight is ever true, By Lord Mahendra given of yore: This quiver with its endless store. Keen arrows hurtling to their aim Like kindled fires that flash and flame: Accept, in golden sheath encased, This sword with hilt of rich gold graced. Armed with this best of bows Lord Vishnu slew his demon foes, And mid the dwellers in the skies Won brilliant glory for his prize. The bow, the quivers, shaft, and sword Received from me, O glorious lord: These conquest to thine arm shall bring, As thunder to the thunder's King."