ra led,
To Rama bow the reverent head,
Nor from the Lord, the lofty-souled,
Their worship or their praise withhold.
Heart of the Gods, supreme is he,
The One who ne'er shall cease to be."

On Sita then he looked and smiled;
"List to my words" he said, "dear child,
Let not thy gentle breast retain
One lingering trace of wrath or pain.
When by the fire thy truth be proved,
By love for thee his will was moved.
The furious flame thy faith confessed
Which shrank not from the awful test:
And thou, in every heart enshrined,
Shalt live the best of womankind."

He ceased: he bade the three adieu,
And home to heaven exulting flew.

Canto CXXII. Indra's Boon.

Then Indra, he whose fiery stroke
Slew furious Paka, turned and spoke:
"A glorious day, O chief, is this,
Rich with the fruit of lasting bliss.
Well pleased are we: we love thee well
Now speak, thy secret wishes tell."

Thus spake the sovereign of the sky,
And this was Rama's glad reply:
"If I have won your grace, incline
To grant this one request of mine.
Restore, O King: the Vanar dead
Whose blood for me was nobly shed.
To life and strength my friends recall,
And bring them back from Yama's hall.
When, fresh in might the warriors rise,
Prepare a feast to glad their eyes.
Let fruits of every season glow,
And streams of purest water flow."

Thus Raghu's son, great-hearted, prayed,
And Indra thus his answer made:
"High is the boon thou seekest: none
Should win this grace but Raghu's son.
Yet, faithful to the word I spake,
I grant the prayer for thy dear sake.
The Vanars whom the giants slew
Their life and vigour shall renew.
Their strength repaired, their gashes healed
Whose torrents dyed the battle field,
The warrior hosts from death shall rise
Like sleepers when their slumber flies."

Restored from Yama's dark domain
The Vanar legions filled the plain,
And, round the royal chief arrayed,
With wondering hearts obeisance paid.
Each God the son of Raghu praised,
And cried as loud his voice he raised:
"Turn, King, to fair Ayodhya speed,
And leave thy friends of Vanar breed.
Thy true devoted consort cheer
After long days of woe and fear.
Bharat, thy loyal brother, see,
A hermit now for love of thee.
The tears of Queen Kausalya dry,
And light with joy each stepdame's eye;
Then consecrated king of men
Make glad each faithful citizen."

They ceased: and borne on radiant cars
Sought their bright home amid the stars.

C