Hindu Literature, - Essay - Indian Literature - Epiphanius Wilson - PART V, Essays (high school) of Indian Literature

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sweet pure touch just waved the trees. There fell from heaven a flowery rain, And with the song and dance the strain Of shell and tambour sweetly blent As forth the son of Raghu went. The hermit led: behind him came The bow-armed Ráma, dear to fame, Whose locks were like the raven's wing:-- Then Lakshman, closely following. The Gods and Indra, filled with joy, Looked down upon the royal boy, And much they longed the death to see Of their ten-headed enemy. Ráma and Lakshman paced behind That hermit of the lofty mind, As the young Aśvins, heavenly pair, Follow Lord Indra through the air. On arm and hand the guard they wore, Quiver and bow and sword they bore; Two fire-born Gods of War seemed they, He, Śiva's self who led the way. Upon fair Sarjú's southern shore They now had walked a league or more, When thus the sage in accents mild To Ráma said: "Beloved child, This lustral water duly touch: My counsel will avail thee much. Forget not all the words I say, Nor let the occasion slip away. Lo, with two spells I thee invest, The mighty and the mightiest. O'er thee fatigue shall ne'er prevail, Nor age nor change thy limbs assail. Thee powers of darkness ne'er shall smite In tranquil sleep or wild delight. No one is there in all the land Thine equal for the vigorous hand. Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell, Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell. None in the world with

thee shall vie, O sinless one, in apt reply-- In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact, Wisdom to plan and skill to act. This double science take, and gain Glory that shall for aye remain. Wisdom and judgment spring from each Of these fair spells whose use I teach. Hunger and thirst unknown to thee, High in the worlds thy rank shall be. For these two spells with might endued, Are the Great Father's heavenly brood, And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace, Thou glory of Kakutstha's race. Virtues which none can match are thine, Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine-- And now these spells of might shall cast Fresh radiance o'er the gifts thou hast." Then Ráma duly touched the wave, Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head, And took the spells the hermit gave, Whose soul on contemplation fed. From him whose might these gifts enhanced A brighter beam of glory glanced:-- So shines in all his autumn blaze The Day-God of the thousand rays. The hermit's wants those youths supplied, As pupils used to holy guide. And then the night in sweet content On Sarjú's pleasant bank they spent.

CANTO XXV

THE HERMITAGE OF LOVE

Soon as appeared the morning light Up rose the mighty anchorite, And thus to youthful Ráma said, Who lay upon his leafy bed:-- "High fate is hers who calls thee son: Arise, 'tis break of day; Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done Due at the morning's ray." At that great sage's high behest Up sprang the princely pair, To bathing rites themselves addressed, And breathed the holiest prayer. Their morning task completed, they To Viśvámitra came, That store of holy works, to pay The worship saints may claim. Then to the hallowed spot they went Along fair Sarjú's side Where mix her waters confluent With three-pathed Gangá's tide. There was a sacred hermitage Where saints devout of mind Their lives through many a lengthened age To penance had resigned. That pure abode the princes eyed With unrestrained delight, And thus unto the saint they cried, Rejoicing at the sight:-- "Whose is that hermitage we see? Who makes his dwelling there? Full of desire to hear are we: O Saint, the truth declare." The hermit, smiling, made reply To the two boys' request:-- "Hear, Ráma, who in days gone by This calm retreat possessed-- Kandarpa in apparent form, (Called Káma by the wise,) Dared Umá's new-wed lord to storm And make the God his prize. 'Gainst Sthánu's self, on rites austere And vows intent, they say, His bold rash hand he dared to rear, Though Sthánu cried, Away!

But the God's eye with scornful glare Fell terrible on him, Dissolved the shape that was so fair And burnt up every limb. Since the great God's terrific rage Destroyed his form and frame, Káma in each succeeding age Has borne Ananga's name. So, where his lovely form decayed, This land is Anga styled:-- Sacred to him of old this shade, And hermits undefiled. Here Scripture-talking elders sway Each sense with firm control, And penance-rites have washed away All sin from every soul. One night, fair boy, we here will spend, A pure stream on each hand, And with to-morrow's light will bend Our steps to yonder strand. Here let us bathe, and free from stain To that pure grove repair, Sacred to Káma, and remain One night in comfort there." With penance' far-discerning eye The saintly men beheld Their coming, and with transport high Each holy bosom swelled. To Kuśik's son the gift they gave That honored guest should greet-- Water they brought his feet to lave, And showed him honor meet. Ráma and Lakshman next obtained In due degree their share-- Then with sweet talk the guests remained, And charmed each listener there. The evening prayers were duly said With voices calm and low:-- Then on the ground each laid his head And slept till morning's glow.

CANTO XXVI

THE FOREST OF TÃDAKÃ

When the fair light of morning rose The princely tamers of their foes Followed, his morning worship o'er, The hermit to the river's shore. The high-souled men with thoughtful care A pretty barge had stationed there. All cried, "O lord, this barge ascend, And with thy princely followers bend To yonder side thy prosperous way-- With nought to check thee or delay." Nor did the saint their rede reject: He bade farewell with due respect, And crossed, attended by the twain, That river rushing to the main. When now the bark was half-way o'er, Ráma and Lakshman heard the roar, That louder grew and louder yet, Of waves by dashing waters met. Then Ráma asked the mighty seer:-- "What is the tumult that I hear Of waters cleft in mid-career?" Soon as the speech of Ráma, stirred By deep desire to know, he heard, The pious saint began to tell What caused the waters' roar and swell:-- "On high Kailása's distant hill There lies a noble lake Whose waters, born from Brahmá's will, The name of Mánas take. Thence, hallowing where'er they flow, The streams of Sarjú fall, And wandering through the plains below Embrace Ayodhyá's wall. Still, still preserved in

Sarjú's name Sarovar's fame we trace, The flood of Brahmá whence she came To run her holy race. To meet great Gangá here she hies With tributary wave-- Hence the loud roar ye hear arise, Of floods that swell and rave. Here, pride of Raghu's line, do thou In humble adoration bow."

He spoke. The princes both obeyed, And reverence to each river paid. They reached the southern shore at last, And gayly on their journey passed. A little space beyond there stood A gloomy awe-inspiring wood. The monarch's noble son began To question thus the holy man:-- "Whose gloomy forest meets mine eye, Like some vast cloud that fills the sky? Pathless and dark it seems to be, Where birds in thousands wander free; Where shrill cicadas' cries resound, And fowl of dismal note abound. Lion, rhinoceros, and bear, Boar, tiger, elephant, are there, There shrubs and thorns run wild: Dháo, Sál, Bignonia, Bel, are found, And every tree that grows on ground: How is the forest styled?" The glorious saint this answer made:-- "Dear child of Raghu, hear Who dwells within the horrid shade That looks so dark and drear. Where now is wood, long ere this day Two broad and fertile lands, Malaja and Karúsha lay, Adorned by heavenly hands. Here, mourning friendship's broken ties, Lord Indra of the thousand eyes Hungered and sorrowed

many a day, His brightness soiled with mud and clay, When in a storm of passion he Had slain his dear friend Namuchi. Then came the Gods and saints who bore Their golden pitchers brimming o'er With holy streams that banish stain, And bathed Lord Indra pure again. When in this land the God was freed From spot and stain of impious deed For that his own dear friend he slew, High transport thrilled his bosom through. Then in his joy the lands he blessed, And gave a boon they long possessed:-- "Because these fertile lands retain The washings of the blot and stain, ('Twas thus Lord Indra sware,) Malaja and Karúsha's name Shall celebrate with deathless fame My malady and care." "So be it," all the Immortals cried, When Indra's speech they heard-- And with acclaim they ratified The names his lips conferred. "Long time, O victor of thy foes, These happy lands had sweet repose, And higher still in fortune rose. At length a spirit, loving ill, Tádaká, wearing shapes at will-- Whose mighty strength, exceeding vast, A thousand elephants' surpassed, Was to fierce Sunda, lord and head Of all the demon armies, wed. From her, Lord Indra's peer in might Giant MárÃ−cha sprang to light; And she, a constant plague and pest, These two fair realms has long distressed. Now dwelling in her dark abode A league away she bars the road: And we, O Ráma, hence must go Where lies the

forest of the foe. Now on thine own right arm rely, And my command obey: Smite the foul monster that she die, And take the plague away. To reach this country none may dare, Fallen from its old estate, Which she, whose fury nought can bear, Has left so desolate. And now my truthful tale is told-- How with accursed sway The spirit plagued this wood of old, And ceases not to-day."

CANTO XXVII

THE BIRTH OF TÃDAKÃ

When thus the sage without a peer Had closed that story strange to hear, Ráma again the saint addressed, To set one lingering doubt at rest:-- "O holy man, 'tis said by all That spirits' strength is weak and small, How can she match, of power so slight, A thousand elephants in might?" And Viśvámitra thus replied To Raghu's son, the glorified:-- "Listen, and I will tell thee how She gained the strength that arms her now. A mighty spirit lived of yore; Suketu was the name he bore. Childless was he, and free from crime In rites austere he passed his time. The mighty Sire was pleased to show His favor, and a child bestow, Tádaká named, most fair to see, A pearl among the maids was she-- And

matched, for such was Brahmá's dower, A thousand elephants in power. Nor would the Eternal Sire, although The spirit longed, a son bestow. That maid in beauty's youthful pride Was given to Sunda for a bride. Her son, MárÃ−cha was his name, A giant, through a curse, became. She, widowed, dared with him molest Agastya, of all saints the best. Inflamed with hunger's wildest rage, Roaring she rushed upon the sage. When the great hermit saw her near, On-speeding in her fierce career, He thus pronounced MárÃ−cha's doom:-- 'A giant's form and shape assume,' And then, by mighty anger swayed, On Tádaká this curse he laid:-- 'Thy present form and semblance quit, And wear a shape thy mood to fit; Changed form and feature by my ban, A fearful thing that feeds on man.' She, by his awful curse possessed, And mad with rage that fills her breast, Has on this land her fury dealt Where once the saint Agastya dwelt. Go, Ráma, smite this monster dead, The wicked plague, of power so dread, And further by this deed of thine The good of Bráhmans and of kine. Thy hand alone can overthrow, In all the worlds, this impious foe. Nor let compassion lead thy mind To shrink from blood of womankind; A monarch's son must ever count The people's welfare paramount-- And whether pain or joy he deal Dare all things for his subjects' weal; Yea, if the deed bring praise

or guilt, If life be saved or blood be spilt:-- Such, through all time, should be the care Of those a kingdom's weight who bear. Slay, Ráma, slay this impious fiend, For by no law her life is screened. So Manthará, as bards have told, Virochan's child, was slain of old By Indra, when in furious hate She longed the earth to devastate. So Kávya's mother, Bhrigu's wife, Who loved her husband as her life, When Indra's throne she sought to gain, By Vishnu's hand of yore was slain. By these and high-souled kings beside, Struck down, have lawless women died."

CANTO XXVIII

THE DEATH OF TÃDAKÃ

Thus spoke the saint. Each vigorous word The noble monarch's offspring heard-- And, reverent hands together laid, His answer to the hermit made:-- "My sire and mother bade me aye Thy word, O mighty Saint, obey. So will I, O most glorious, kill This Tádaká who joys in ill-- For such my sire's, and such thy will. To aid with mine avenging hand The Bráhmans, kine, and all the land, Obedient, heart and soul, I stand." 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 Tádaká the echo heard, And rose in haste from slumber stirred. In wild amaze, her soul aflame With fury towards 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 Ráma 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 Ráma burned with rage. Then pouring forth his arrowy rain That stony flood to stay, With wingèd darts, as

she charged amain, He shore her hands away. As Tádaká still thundered near Thus maimed by Ráma'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. When Gádhi's son of high renown Still saw the stony rain pour down Upon each princely warrior's head, With words of wisdom thus he said:-- "Enough of mercy, Ráma, lest This sinful evil-working pest, Disturber of each holy rite, Repair by magic arts her might. Without delay the fiend should die, For, see, the twilight hour is nigh. And at the joints of night and day Such giant foes are hard to slay." Then Ráma, skilful to direct His arrow to the sound-- With shafts the mighty demon checked Who rained her stones around. She, sore impeded and beset By Ráma and his arrowy net-- Though skilled in guile and magic lore, Rushed on the brothers with a roar. Deformed, terrific, murderous, dread, Swift as the levin on she sped-- Like cloudy pile in autumn's sky, Lifting her two vast arms on high: When Ráma smote her with a dart Shaped like a crescent, to the heart. Sore wounded by the shaft that came With lightning speed and surest aim, Blood spurting from her mouth and side, She fell upon the earth and died. Soon as the Lord who rules the sky

Saw the dread monster lifeless lie, He called aloud, Well done! well done! And the Gods honored Raghu's son. Standing in heaven the Thousand-eyed, With all the Immortals, joying cried:-- "Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and see The Gods and Indra nigh to thee. This deed of Ráma's boundless might Has filled our bosoms with delight. Now, for our will would have it so, To Raghu's son some favor show. Invest him with the power which nought But penance gains, and holy thought. Those heavenly arms on him bestow-- To thee entrusted long ago By great Kriśáśva best of kings, Son of the Lord of living things. More fit recipient none can be Than he who joys in following thee; And for our sakes the monarch's seed Has yet to do a mighty deed."

He spoke; and all the heavenly train Rejoicing sought their homes again, While honor to the saint they paid-- Then came the evening's twilight shade. The best of hermits overjoyed To know the monstrous fiend destroyed, His lips on Ráma's forehead pressed, And thus the conquering chief addressed:-- "O Ráma, gracious to the sight, Here will we pass the present night, And with the morrow's earliest ray Bend to my hermitage our way." The son of Daśaratha heard, Delighted, Viśvámitra's word-- And as he bade, that night he spent In Tádaká's wild wood, content. And the

grove shone that happy day, Freed from the curse that on it lay-- Like Chaitraratha fair and gay.

CANTO XXIX

THE CELESTIAL ARMS

That night they slept and took their rest; And then the mighty saint addressed, With pleasant smile and accents mild These words to Raghu's princely child:-- "Well pleased am I. High fate be thine, Thou scion of a royal line. Now will I, for I love thee so, All heavenly arms on thee bestow. Victor with these, whoe'er oppose, Thy hand shall conquer all thy foes-- Though Gods and spirits of the air, Serpents and fiends, the conflict dare. I'll give thee as a pledge of love The mystic arms they use above, For worthy thou to have revealed The weapons I have learnt to wield. First, son of Raghu, shall be thine The arm of Vengeance, strong, divine: The arm of Fate, the arm of Right, And Vishnu's arm of awful might:-- That, before which no foe can stand, The thunderbolt of Indra's hand; And Śiva's trident, sharp and dread, And that dire weapon, Brahmá's Head. And two fair clubs, O royal child, One Charmer and one Pointed styled-- With flame of lambent fire aglow, On thee, O Chieftain, I bestow. And

Fate's dread net and Justice' noose That none may conquer, for thy use:-- And the great cord, renowned of old, Which Varun ever loves to hold. Take these two thunderbolts, which I Have got for thee, the Moist and Dry. Here Śiva's dart to thee I yield, And that which Vishnu wont to wield. I give to thee the arm of Fire, Desired by all and named the Spire. To thee I grant the Wind-God's dart, Named Crusher, O thou pure of heart. This arm, the Horse's Head, accept, And this, the Curlew's Bill yclept, And these two spears, the best e'er flew, Named the Invincible and True. And arms of fiends I make thine own, Skull-wreath and mace that smashes bone. And Joyous, which the spirits bear, Great weapon of the sons of air. Brave offspring of the best of lords, I give thee now the Gem of swords-- And offer next, thine hand to arm, The heavenly bard's beloved charm. Now with two arms I thee invest Of never-ending Sleep and Rest-- With weapons of the Sun and Rain, And those that dry and burn amain; And strong Desire with conquering touch, The dart that Káma prizes much. I give the arm of shadowy powers That bleeding flesh of man devours. I give the arms the God of Gold And giant fiends exult to hold. This smites the foe in battle-strife, And takes his fortune, strength, and life. I give the arms called False and True, And great Illusion give I too; The hero's arm called

Strong and Bright That spoils the foeman's strength in fight. I give thee as a priceless boon The Dew, the weapon of the Moon, And add the weapon, deftly planned, That strengthens Viśvakarmá's hand. The Mortal dart whose point is chill, And Slaughter, ever sure to kill; All these and other arms, for thou Art very dear, I give thee now. Receive these weapons from my hand, Son of the noblest in the land." Facing the east, the glorious saint Pure from all spot of earthly taint, To Ráma, with delighted mind, That noble host of spells consigned. He taught the arms, whose lore is won Hardly by Gods, to Raghu's son. He muttered low the spell whose call Summons those arms and rules them all-- And each, in visible form and frame, Before the monarch's son they came. They stood and spoke in reverent guise To Ráma with exulting cries:-- "O noblest child of Raghu, see, Thy ministers and thralls are we." With joyful heart and eager hand Ráma received the wondrous band, And thus with words of welcome cried:-- "Aye present to my will abide"-- Then hasted to the saint to pay Due reverence, and pursued his way.

CANTO XXX

THE MYSTERIOUS POWERS

Pure, with glad cheer and joyful breast, Of those mysterious arms possessed, Ráma, now passing on his way, Thus to the saint began to say:-- "Lord of these mighty weapons, I Can scarce be harmed by Gods on high; Now, best of saints, I long to gain The powers that can these arms restrain." Thus spoke the prince. The sage austere, True to his vows, from evil clear, Called forth the names of those great charms Whose powers restrain the deadly arms. "Receive thou True and Truly-famed, And Bold and Fleet: the weapons named Warder and Progress, swift of pace, Averted-head and Drooping-face; The Seen, and that which Secret flies-- The weapon of the thousand eyes; Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced, Star-gazer and the Layer-waste; The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot, The pair that wake and slumber not; The Fiendish, that which shakes amain, The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain; The Guardian, and the Close-allied, The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side:-- O Raghu's son receive all these, Bright ones that wear what forms they please; Kriśáśva's mystic sons are they, And worthy thou their might to sway." With joy the pride of Raghu's race Received the hermit's proffered grace-- Mysterious arms, to check and stay, Or smite the foeman in the fray. Then, all with heavenly forms endued, Nigh came the wondrous multitude. Celestial in their bright

attire Some shone like coals of burning fire-- Some were like clouds of dusky smoke; And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke:-- "Thy thralls, O Ráma, here we stand-- Command, we pray, thy faithful band." "Depart," he cried, "where each may list, But when I call you to assist, Be present to my mind with speed, And aid me in the hour of need."

To Ráma then they lowly bent, And round him in due reverence went-- To his command they answered, "Yea," And as they came so went away. When thus the arms had homeward flown, With pleasant words and modest tone, E'en as he walked, the prince began To question thus the holy man:-- "What cloudlike wood is that which near The mountain's side I see appear? O tell me, for I long to know: Its pleasant aspect charms me so. Its glades are full of deer at play, And sweet birds sing on every spray. Passed is the hideous wild--I feel So sweet a tremor o'er me steal-- And hail with transport fresh and new A land that is so fair to view. Then tell me all, thou holy Sage, And whose this pleasant hermitage In which those wicked ones delight To mar and kill each holy rite-- And with foul heart and evil deed Thy sacrifice, great Saint, impede. To whom, O Sage, belongs this land In which thine altars ready stand? 'Tis mine to guard them, and to slay The giants who the rites

would stay. All this, O best of saints, I burn From thine own lips, my lord, to learn."

CANTO XXXI

THE PERFECT HERMITAGE

Thus spoke the prince of boundless might, And thus replied the anchorite:-- "Chief of the mighty arm, of yore Lord Vishnu, whom the Gods adore For holy thought and rites austere, Of penance made his dwelling here. This ancient wood was called of old Grove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled-- And when perfection he attained The grove the name of Perfect gained. Bali of yore, Virochan's son, Dominion over Indra won-- And when with power his proud heart swelled, O'er the three worlds his empire held. When Bali then began a rite, The Gods and Indra in affright Sought Vishnu in this place of rest, And thus with prayers the God addressed:-- 'Bali, Virochan's mighty son, His sacrifice has now begun: Of boundless wealth, that demon king Is bounteous to each living thing. Though suppliants flock from every side The suit of none is e'er denied. Whate'er, where'er, howe'er the call, He hears the suit and gives to all. Now with thine own illusive art Perform, O Lord, the helper's

part: Assume a dwarfish form, and thus From fear and danger rescue us.' Thus in their dread the Immortals sued The God, a dwarfish shape indued:-- Before Virochan's son he came, Three steps of land his only claim. The boon obtained, in wondrous wise Lord Vishnu's form increased in size; Through all the worlds, tremendous, vast, God of the Triple Step, he passed. The whole broad earth from side to side He measured with one mighty stride-- Spanned with the next the firmament, And with the third through heaven he went. Thus was the king of demons hurled By Vishnu to the nether world-- And thus the universe restored To Indra's rule, its ancient lord. And now because the Immortal God This spot in dwarflike semblance trod, The grove has aye been loved by me For reverence of the devotee. But demons haunt it, prompt to stay Each holy offering I would pay. Be thine, O lion-lord, to kill These giants that delight in ill. This day, beloved child, our feet Shall rest within the calm retreat; And know, thou chief of Raghu's line, My hermitage is also thine." He spoke; and soon the anchorite, With joyous looks that beamed delight, With Ráma and his brother stood Within the consecrated wood. Soon as they saw the holy man, With one accord together ran The dwellers in the sacred shade, And to the saint their reverence paid-- And offered water for his feet, The gift of

honor, and a seat; And next with hospitable care They entertained the princely pair. The royal tamers of their foes Rested awhile in sweet repose-- Then to the chief of hermits sued Standing in suppliant attitude:-- "Begin, O best of saints, we pray, Initiatory rites to-day. This Perfect Grove shall be anew Made perfect, and thy words be true."

Then, thus addressed, the holy man, The very glorious sage, began The high preliminary rite, Restraining sense and appetite. Calmly the youths that night reposed, And rose when morn her light disclosed-- Their morning worship paid, and took Of lustral water from the brook. Thus purified they breathed the prayer, Then greeted Viśvámitra where As celebrant he sate beside The flame with sacred oil supplied.

CANTO XXXII

VIÅšVÃMITRA'S SACRIFICE

That conquering pair, of royal race, Skilled to observe due time and place-- To Kúśik's hermit son addressed, In timely words, their meet request:-- "When must we, lord, we pray thee tell, Those Rovers of the Night repel? Speak, lest

we let the moment fly, And pass the due occasion by." Thus longing for the strife, they prayed, And thus the hermit's answer made:-- "Till the fifth day be come and past, O Raghu's sons, your watch must last. The saint his DÃ−kshá has begun, And all that time will speak to none." Soon as the steadfast devotees Had made reply in words like these, The youths began, disdaining sleep, Six days and nights their watch to keep-- The warrior pair who tamed the foe, Unrivalled benders of the bow, Kept watch and ward unwearied still To guard the saint from scathe and ill. Twas now the sixth returning day, The hour foretold had passed away. Then Ráma cried: "O Lakshman, now! Firm, watchful, resolute be thou. The fiends as yet have kept afar From the pure grove in which we are; Yet waits us, ere the day shall close, Dire battle with the demon foes." While thus spoke Ráma, borne away By longing for the deadly fray, See! bursting from the altar came The sudden glory of the flame; Round priest and deacon, and upon Grass, ladles, flowers, the splendor shone-- And the high rite, in order due, With sacred texts began anew. But then a loud and fearful roar Re-echoed through the sky; And like vast clouds that shadow o'er The heavens in dark July, Involved in gloom of magic might Two fiends rushed on amain-- MárÃ−cha, Rover of the Night, Suváhu, and their train. As on they

came in wild career Thick blood in rain they shed; And Ráma saw those things of fear Impending overhead. Then, soon as those accursed two Who showered down blood he spied, Thus to his brother brave and true Spoke Ráma lotus-eyed:-- "Now, Lakshman, thou these fiends shalt see, Man-eaters, foul of mind, Before my mortal weapon flee Like clouds before the wind." He spoke. An arrow, swift as thought, Upon his bow he pressed, And smote, to utmost fury wrought, MárÃ−cha on the breast. Deep in his flesh the weapon lay Winged by the mystic spell, And, hurled a hundred leagues away, In ocean's flood he fell. Then Ráma, when he saw the foe Convulsed and mad with pain 'Neath the chill-pointed weapon's blow, To Lakshman spoke again:-- "See, Lakshman, see! this mortal dart That strikes a numbing chill, Hath struck him senseless with the smart, But left him breathing still. But these who love the evil way And drink the blood they spill, Rejoicing holy rites to stay, Fierce plagues, my hand shall kill." He seized another shaft, the best, Aglow with living flame; It struck Suváhu on the chest, And dead to earth he came. Again a dart, the Wind-God's own, Upon his string he laid, And all the demons were overthrown-- The saints no more afraid. When thus the fiends were slain in fight, Disturbers of each holy rite, Due honor by the saints was paid To Ráma for his wondrous

aid:-- So Indra is adored when he Has won some glorious victory. Success at last the rite had crowned, And Viśvámitra gazed around-- And seeing every side at rest, The son of Raghu thus addressed:-- "My joy, O Prince, is now complete-- Thou hast obeyed my will: Perfect before, this calm retreat Is now more perfect still."

CANTO XXXIII

THE SONE

Their task achieved, the princes spent That night with joy and full content. Ere yet the dawn was well displayed Their morning rites they duly paid-- And sought, while yet the light was faint, The hermits and the mighty saint. They greeted first that holy sire Resplendent like the burning fire, And then with noble words began Their sweet speech to the sainted man:-- "Here stand, O lord, thy servants true-- Command what thou wouldst have us do." The saints, by Viśvámitra led, To Ráma thus in answer said:-- "Janak, the king who rules the land Of fertile Mithilá, has planned A noble sacrifice, and we Will thither go the rite to see. Thou, Prince of men, with us shalt go, And there behold the wondrous bow-- Terrific, vast, of matchless might, Which, splendid at

the famous rite, The Gods assembled gave the King. No giant, fiend, or God can string That gem of bows, no heavenly bard; Then, sure, for man the task were hard. When lords of earth have longed to know The virtue of that wondrous bow, The strongest sons of kings in vain Have tried the mighty cord to strain. This famous bow thou there shalt view, And wondrous rites shalt witness too. The high-souled king who lords it o'er The realm of Mithilá, of yore Gained from the Gods this bow, the price Of his imperial sacrifice. Won by the rite the glorious prize Still in his royal palace lies-- Laid up in oil of precious scent With aloes-wood and incense blent." Then Ráma answering, "Be it so," Made ready with the rest to go. The saint himself was now prepared, But ere beyond the grove he fared, He turned him and in words like these Addressed the sylvan deities:-- "Farewell! each holy rite complete, I leave the hermits' perfect seat: To Gangá's northern shore I go Beneath Himálaya's peaks of snow." With reverent steps he paced around The limits of the holy ground-- And then the mighty saint set forth And took his journey to the north. His pupils, deep in Scripture's page, Followed behind the holy sage, And servants from the sacred grove A hundred wains for convoy drove. The very birds that winged that air, The very deer that harbored there, Forsook the glade and leafy brake