ontrol,
Nor check one longing of the soul,
Urged by malignant fate repel
The faithful friend who counsels well.
A thousand courtiers wilt thou meet,
With flattering lips of smooth deceit:
But rare are they whose tongue or ear
Will speak the bitter truth, or hear.
Unclose thy blinded eyes and see
That snares of death encompass thee.
I dread, my brother, to behold
The shafts of Rama, bright with gold,
Flash fury through the air, and red
With fires of vengeance strike thee dead.
Lord, brother, King, again reflect,
Nor this mine earnest prayer reject,
O, save thyself, thy royal town,
Thy people and thine old renown."

Canto XVII. Vibhishan's Flight.

Soon as his bitter words were said,
To Raghu's sons Vibhishan fled.(927)
Their eyes the Vanar leaders raised
And on the air-borne Rakhshas gazed,
Bright as a thunderbolt, in size
Like Meru's peak that cleaves the skies.
In gorgeous panoply arrayed
Like Indra's self he stood displayed,
And four attendants brave and bold
Shone by their chief in mail and gold.
Sugriva then with dark surmise
Bent on their forms his wondering eyes,
And thus in hasty words confessed
The anxious doubt that moved his breast:

"Look, look ye Vanars, and beware:
That giant chief sublime in air
With other four in bright array
Comes armed to conquer and to slay."
Soon as his warning speech they heard,
The Vanar chieftains undeterred
Seized fragments of the rock and trees,
And made reply in words like these:
"We wait thy word: the order give,
And these thy foes shall cease to live.
Command us, mighty King, and all
Lifeless upon the earth shall fall."

Meanwhile Vibhishan with the four
Stood high above the ocean shore.
Sugriva and the chiefs he spied,
And raised his mighty voice and cried:
"From Ravan, lord of giants, I
His brother, named Vibhishan, fly.
From Janasthan he stole the child
Of Janak by his art beguiled,
And in his palace locked and barred
Surrounds her with a Rakshas guard.
I bade him, plied with varied lore,
His hapless prisoner restore.
But he, by Fate to ruin sent,
No credence to my counsel lent,
Mad as the fevered wretch who sees
And scorns the balm to bring him ease.
He scorned the sage advice I gave,
He spurned me like a base-born slave.
I left my children and my wife,
And fly to Raghu's son for life.
I pray thee, Vanar chieftain, speed
To him who saves in hour of need,
And tell him famed in distant lands
That suppliant here Vibhishan stands.