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

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

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

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

Thus spoke the king in furious mood:
Akampan then his speech renewed:
"O listen while I tell at length
The terror of the hero's strength.
No power can check, no might can tame
Rama, a chief of noblest fame.
He with resistless shafts can stay
The torrent foaming on its way.
Sky, stars, and constellations, all
To his fierce might would yield and fall.
His power could earth itself uphold
Down sinking as it sank of old.(482)
Or all its plains and cities drown,
Breaking the wild sea's barrier down;
Crush the great deep's impetuous will,
Or bid the furious wind be still.
He glorious in his high estate
The triple world could devastate,
And there, supreme of men, could place
His creatures of a new-born race.
Never can mighty Rama be
O'ercome in fight, my King, by thee.
Thy giant host the day might win
From him, if heaven were gained by sin.
If Gods were joined with demons, they
Could ne'er, I ween, that hero slay,
But guile may kill the wondrous man;
Attend while I disclose the plan.
His wife, above all women graced,
Is Sita of the dainty waist,
With limbs to fair proportion true,
And a soft skin of lustrous hue,
Round neck and arm rich gems are twined:
She is the gem of womankind.
With her no bright Gandharvi vies,
No nymph or