's self bestowed of yore,
Fierce as the flames that end the world,
The giant king at Lakshman hurled.
The hero fell, and racked with pain,
Scarce could his hand his bow retain.
But sense and strength resumed their seat
And, lightly springing to his feet,
He struck with one tremendous stroke
And Ravan's bow in splinters broke.
From Lakshman's cord three arrows flew
And pierced the giant monarch through.
Sore wounded Ravan closed, and round
Ikshvaku's son his strong arms wound.
With strength unrivalled, Brahma's gift,
He strove from earth his foe to lift.
"Shall I," he cried, "who overthrow
Mount Meru and the Lord of Snow,
And heaven and all who dwell therein,
Be foiled by one of Rama's kin?"
But though he heaved, and toiled, and strained,
Unmoved Ikshvaku's son remained.
His frame by those huge arms compressed
The giant's God-given force confessed,
But conscious that himself was part
Of Vishnu, he was firm in heart.

The Wind-God's son the fight beheld,
And rushed at Ravan, rage-impelled.
Down crashed his mighty hand; the foe
Full in the chest received the blow.
His eyes grew dim, his knees gave way,
And senseless on the earth he lay.

The Wind-God's son to Rama bore
Deep-wounded Lakshman stained with gore.
He whom no foe might lift or bend
Was light as air to such a friend.
The dart that Lakshman's side had cleft,
Untouched, the hero's body left,
And flashing through the air afar
Resumed its place in Ravan's car;
And, waxing well though wounded sore,
He felt the deadly pain no more.
And Ravan, though with deep wounds pained,
Slowly his sense and strength regained,
And furious still and undismayed
On bow and shaft his hand he laid.

Then Hanuman to Rama cried:
"Ascend my back, great chief, and ride
Like Vishnu borne on Garud's wing,
To battle with the giant king."
So, burning for the dire attack,
Rode Rama on the Vanar's back,
And with fierce accents loud and slow
Thus gave defiance to the foe,
While his strained bowstring made a sound
Like thunder when it shakes the ground:
"Stay, Monarch of the giants, stay,
The penalty of sin to pay.
Stay! whither wilt thou fly, and how
Escape the death that waits thee now?"

No word the giant king returned:
His eyes with flames of fury burned.
His arm was stretched, his bow was bent,
And swift his fiery shafts were sent.
Red torrents from the Vanar flowed:
Then Rama near to Ravan strode,
And with keen darts that never failed,
The chariot of th