d shafts o'erthrown
Which Rama shot on foot, alone.
Three little hours had scarcely fled,--
Khara and Dushan both were dead,
And he had freed the saints and made
Asylum sure in Dandak's shade.
Me of his grace the victor spared,
Or I the giants' fate had shared.
The high-souled Rama would not deign
His hand with woman's blood to stain.
The glorious Lakshman, justly dear,
In gifts and warrior might his peer,
Serves his great brother with the whole
Devotion of his faithful soul:
Impetuous victor, bold and wise,
First in each hardy enterprise,
Still ready by his side to stand,
A second self or better hand.
And Rama has a large-eyed spouse,
Pure as the moon her cheek and brows,
Dearer than life in Rama's sight,
Whose happiness is her delight.
With beauteous hair and nose the dame
From head to foot has naught to blame.
She shines the wood's bright Goddess, Queen
Of beauty with her noble mien.
First in the ranks of women placed
Is Sita of the dainty waist.
In all the earth mine eyes have ne'er
Seen female form so sweetly fair.
Goddess nor nymph can vie with her,
Nor bride of heavenly chorister.
He who might call this dame his own,
Her eager arms about him thrown,
Would live more blest in Sita's love
Than Indra in the world above.
She, peerless in her form and face
And rich in every gentle grace,
Is worthy bride, O King, for thee,
As thou art meet her lord to be.
I even I, will bring the bride
In triumph to her lover's side--
This beauty fairer than the rest,
With rounded limb and heaving breast.
Each wound upon my face I owe
To cruel Lakshman's savage blow.
But thou, O brother, shalt survey
Her moonlike loveliness to-day,
And Kama's piercing shafts shall smite
Thine amorous bosom at the sight.
If in thy breast the longing rise
To make thine own the beauteous prize,
Up, let thy better foot begin
The journey and the treasure win.
If, giant Lord, thy favouring eyes
Regard the plan which I advise,
Up, cast all fear and doubt away
And execute the words I say
Come, giant King, this treasure seek,
For thou art strong and they are weak.
Let Sita of the faultless frame
Be borne away and be thy dame.
Thy host in Janasthan who dwelt
Forth to the battle hied.
And by the shafts which Rama dealt
They perished in their pride.
Dushan and Khara breathe no more,
Laid low upon the plain.
Arise, and ere the day be o'er
Take vengeance for the slain."

Canto XXXV. Ravan's Journey.

When Ravan, by