Their strength relaxed, their eyes grew dim.
As two tall standards side by side,
With each sustaining rope untied,
Fall levelled by the howling blast,
So earth's majestic lords at last
Beneath the arrowy tempest reeled,
And prostrate pressed the battle field.

Canto XLVI. Indrajit's Triumph.

The Vanar chiefs whose piercing eyes
Scanned eagerly the earth and skies,
Saw the brave brothers wounded sore
Transfixed with darts and stained with gore.
The monarch of the Vanar race,
With wise Vibhishan, reached the place;
Angad and Nila came behind,
And others of the forest kind,
And standing with Hanuman there
Lamented for the fallen pair.
Their melancholy eyes they raised;
In fruitless search a while they gazed.
But magic arts Vibhishan knew;
Not hidden from his keener view,
Though veiled by magic from the rest,
The son of Ravan stood confessed.
Fierce Indrajit with savage pride
The fallen sons of Raghu eyed,
And every giant heart was proud
As thus the warrior cried aloud:

"Slain by mine arrows Rama lies,
And closed in death are Lakshman's eyes.
Dead are the mighty princes who
Dushan and Khara smote and slew.
The Gods and fiends may toil in vain
To free them from the binding chain.
The haughty chief, my father's dread,
Who drove him sleepless from his bed,
While Lanka, troubled like a brook
In rain time, heard his name and shook:
He whose fierce hate our lives pursued
Lies helpless by my shafts subdued.
Now fruitless is each wondrous deed
Wrought by the race the forests breed,
And fruitless every toil at last
Like cloudlets when the rains are past."
Then rose the shout of giants loud
As thunder from a bursting cloud,
When, deeming Rama, dead, they raised
Their voices and the conqueror praised.

Still motionless, as lie the slain,
The brothers pressed the bloody plain,
No sigh they drew, no breath they heaved,
And lay as though of life bereaved.
Proud of the deed his art had done,
To Lanka's town went Ravan's son,
Where, as he passed, all fear was stilled,
And every heart with triumph filled.
Sugriva trembled as he viewed
Each fallen prince with blood bedewed,
And in his eyes which overflowed
With tears the flame of anger glowed.
"Calm," cried Vibhishan, "calm thy fears,
And stay the torrent of thy tears.
Still must the chance of battle change,
And victory still delight to range.
Our cause again will she befriend
And bring us triumph in the end.
This is not death: each prince will