s they could not shun.
Caught in the arrowy nets he wove,
In vain the sons of Raghu strove;
And Rama, by the darts oppressed,
His brother chieftain thus addressed:
"See, first this giant warrior sends
Destruction, mid our Vanar friends,
And now his arrows thick and fast
Their binding net around us cast.
To Brahma's grace the chieftain owes
The matchless power and might he shows;
And mortal strength in vain contends
With him whom Brahma's self befriends.
Then let us still with dauntless hearts
Endure this storm of pelting darts.
Soon must we sink bereaved of sense;
And then the victor, hurrying hence,
Will seek his father in his hall
And tell him of his foemen's fall."
He ceased: o'erpowered by shaft and spell
The sons of Raghu reeled and fell.
The Rakshas on their bodies gazed;
And, mid the shouts his followers raised,
Sped back to Lanka to relate
In Ravan's hall the princes' fate.

Canto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs.

The shades of falling night concealed
The carnage of the battle field,
Which, bearing each a blazing brand,
Hanuman and Vibhishan scanned,
Moving with slow and anxious tread
Among the dying and the dead.
Sad was the scene of slaughter shown
Where'er the torches' light was thrown.
Here mountain forms of Vanars lay
Whose heads and limbs were lopped away,
Arms, legs and fingers strewed the ground,
And severed heads lay thick around.
The earth was moist with sanguine streams,
And sighs were heard and groans and screams.
There lay Sugriva still and cold,
There Angad, once so brave and bold.
There Jambavan his might reposed,
There Vegadarsi's eyes were closed;
There in the dust was Nala's pride,
And Dwivid lay by Mainda's side.
Where'er they looked the ensanguined plain
Was strewn with myriads of the slain;(990)
They sought with keenly searching eyes
King Jambavan supremely wise.
His strength had failed by slow decay,
And pierced with countless shafts he lay.
They saw, and hastened to his side,
And thus the sage Vibhishan cried:
"Thee, monarch of the bears, we seek:
Speak if thou yet art living, speak."

Slow came the aged chief's reply;
Scarce could he say with many a sigh:
"Torn with keen shafts which pierce each limb,
My strength is gone, my sight is dim;
Yet though I scarce can raise mine eyes,
Thy voice, O chief, I recognize.
O, while these ears can hear thee, say,
Has Hanuman survived this day?"

"Why ask," Vibhishan cried, "for one
Of lower rank, the Wind-God's s