tinkling bells and weapons' clang
The monarch on the chariot sprang,
Which, decked with gems of every hue,
Eight steeds of noble lineage drew.
Mid roars of drum and shell rang out
From countless throats a joyful shout.
As, girt with hosts in warlike pride,
Through Lanka's streets the tyrant hied.
Still, louder than the roar of drums,
Went up the cry "He comes, he comes,
Our ever conquering lord who trod
Beneath his feet both fiend and God."
On to the gate the warriors swept
Where Raghu's sons their station kept.
When Ravan's car the portal passed
The sun in heaven was overcast.
Earth rocked and reeled from side to side
And birds with boding voices cried.
Against the standard of the king
A vulture flapped his horrid wing.
Big gouts of blood before him dropped,
His trembling steeds in terror stopped.
The hue of death was on his cheek,
And scarce his flattering tongue could speak,
When, terrible with flash and flame,
Through murky air a meteor came.
Still by the hand of Death impelled
His onward way the giant held.
The Vanars in the field afar
Heard the loud thunder of his car.
And turned with warriors' fierce delight
To meet the giant in the fight.
He came: his clanging bow he drew
And myriads of the Vanars slew.
Some through the side and heart he cleft,
Some headless on the plain were left.
Some struggling groaned with mangled thighs,
Or broken arms or blinded eyes.

[I omit Cantos XCVII, XCVIII, and XCIX, which describe in the usual way
three single combats between Sugriva and Angad on the Vanar side and
Virupaksha, Mahodar, and Mahaparsva on the side of the giants. The weapons
of the Vanars are trees and rocks; the giants fight with swords, axes, and
bows and arrows. The details are generally the same as those of preceding
duels. The giants fall, one in each Canto.]

Canto C. Ravan In The Field.

The plain with bleeding limbs was spread,
And heaps of dying and of dead.
His mighty bow still Rama strained,
And shafts upon the giants rained.
Still Angad and Sugriva, wrought
To fury, for the Vanars fought.
Crushed with huge rocks through chest and side
Mahodar, Mahaparsva died,
And Virupaksha stained with gore
Dropped on the plain to rise no more.
When Ravan saw the three o'erthrown
He cried aloud in furious tone:
"Urge, urge the car, my charioteer,
The haughty Vanars' death is near.
This very day shall end our griefs
For leaguered town and slaughtered chiefs.
Rama the tree whose lovely