slew the noble Khara,--he
Is slain by warriors sent by me.
Thy living root is hewn away,
Thy scornful pride is tamed to-day.
Thy lord in battle's front has died,
And Sita shall be Ravan's bride.
Hence, idle thoughts: thy hope is fled;
What wilt thou, Sita, with the dead?
Rise, child of Janak, rise and be
The queen of all my queens and me.
Incline thine ear, and I will tell,
Dear lady, how thy husband fell.
He bridged his way across the sea
With countless troops to fight with me.
The setting sun had flushed the west
When on the shore they took their rest.
Weary with toil no watch they kept,
Securely on the sands they slept.
Prahasta's troops assailed our foes,
And smote them in their deep repose.
Scarce could their bravest prove their might:
They perished in the dark of night.
Axe, spear, and sword, directed well,
Upon the sleeping myriads fell.
First in the fight Prahasta's sword
Reft of his head thy slumbering lord.
Roused at the din Vibhishan rose,
The captive of surrounding foes,
And Lakshman through the woods that spread
Around him with his Vanars fled.
Hanuman fell: one deadly stroke
The neck of King Sugriva broke,
And Mainda sank, and Dwivid lay
Gasping in blood his life away.
The Vanars died, or fled dispersed
Like cloudlets when the storm has burst.
Some rose aloft in air, and more
Ran to the sea and filled the shore.
On shore, in woods, on hill and plain
Our conquering giants left the slain.
Thus my victorious host o'erthrew
The Vanars, and thy husband slew:
See, rudely stained with dust, and red
With dropping blood, the severed head."

Then, turning to a Rakshas slave,
The ruthless king his mandate gave,
And straight Vidyujjihva who bore
The head still wet with dripping gore,
The arrows and the mighty bow,
Bent down before his master low.
"Vidyujjihva," cried Ravan, "place
The head before the lady's face,
And let her see with weeping eyes
That low in death her husband lies."

Before the queen the giant laid
The beauteous head his art had made.
And Ravan cried: "Thine eyes will know
These arrows and the mighty bow.
With fame of this by Rama strung
The earth and heaven and hell have rung.
Prahasta brought it hither when
His hand had slain thy prince of men.
Now, widowed Queen, thy hopes resign:
Forget thy husband and be mine."

Canto XXXII. Sita's Lament.

Again her eyes with tears o'erflowed:
She gazed upon the head he showed,
Gazed on the bow so famed of yore,
Th