Heard of the coming of the foe,
And thus with close inquiry pressed
Sardula spokesman for the rest:
"Why art thou sad, night-rover? speak:
Has grief or terror changed thy cheek?
Have the wild Vanars' hostile bands
Assailed thee with their mighty hands?"

Sardula heard, but scarce might speak;
His trembling tones were faint and weak:
"O Giant King, in vain we try
The purpose of the foe to spy.
Their strength and number none may tell,
And Rama guards his legions well.
He leaves no hope to prying eyes,
And parley with the chiefs denies:
Each road and path a Vanar guard,
Of mountain size, has closed and barred.
Soon as my feet an entrance found
By giants was I seized and bound,
And wounded sore I fell beneath
Their fists and knees and hands and teeth.
Then trembling, bleeding, wellnigh dead
To Rama's presence was I led.
He in his mercy stooped to save,
And freedom to the captive gave.
With rocks and shattered mountains he
Has bridged his way athwart the sea,
And he and all his legions wait
Embattled close to Lanka's gate.
Soon will the host thy wall assail,
And, swarming on, the rampart scale.
Now, O my King, his consort yield,
Or arm thee with the sword and shield.
This choice is left thee: choose between
Thy safety and the Maithil queen."(943)

Canto XXXI. The Magic Head.

The tyrant's troubled eye confessed
The secret fear that filled his breast.
With dread of coming woe dismayed
He called his counsellors to aid;
Then sternly silent, deep in thought,
His chamber in the palace sought.
Then, as the surest hope of all,
The monarch bade his servants call
Vidyujjihva, whom magic skill
Made master of the means of ill.
Then spake the lord of Lanka's isle:
"Come, Sita with thine arts beguile.
With magic skill and deftest care
A head like Rama's own prepare.
This head, long shafts and mighty bow,
To Janak's daughter will we show."

He ceased: Vidyujjihva obeyed,
And wondrous magic skill displayed;
And Ravan for the art he showed
An ornament of price bestowed.
Then to the grove where Sita lay
The lord of Lanka took his way.
Pale, wasted, weeping, on the ground
The melancholy queen he found,
Whose thoughts in utmost stress of ill
Were fixed upon her husband still.
The giant king approached the dame,
Declared in tones of joy his name;
Then heeding naught her wild distress
Bespake her, stern and pitiless:
"The prince to whom thy fancies cling
Though loved and wooed by Lanka's king,
Who