ay be led;
Let Sita close behind thee tread:
I, best of men, will grasp my bow,
And hindmost of the three will go.
What fruits soe'er her fancy take,
Or flowers half hidden in the brake,
For Janak's child forget not thou
To gather from the brake or bough."

Thus on they fared. The tender dame
Asked Rama, as they walked, the name
Of every shrub that blossoms bore,
Creeper, and tree unseen before:
And Lakshman fetched, at Sita's prayer,
Boughs of each tree with clusters fair.
Then Janak's daughter joyed to see
The sand-discoloured river flee,
Where the glad cry of many a bird,
The saras and the swan, was heard.
A league the brothers travelled through
The forest noble game they slew:
Beneath the trees their meal they dressed
And sat them down to eat and rest.
A while in that delightful shade
Where elephants unnumbered strayed,
Where peacocks screamed and monkeys played,
They wandered with delight.
Then by the river's side they found
A pleasant spot of level ground,
Where all was smooth and fair around,
Their lodging for the night.

Canto LVI. Chitrakuta

Then Rama, when the morning rose,
Called Lakshman gently from repose:
"Awake, the pleasant voices hear
Of forest birds that warble near.
Scourge of thy foes, no longer stay;
The hour is come to speed away."

The slumbering prince unclosed his eyes
When thus his brother bade him rise,
Compelling, at the timely cry,
Fatigue, and sleep, and rest to fly.
The brothers rose and Sita too;
Pure water from the stream they drew,
Paid morning rites, then followed still
The road to Chitrakuta's hill.
Then Rama as he took the road
With Lakshman, while the morning, glowed,
To the Videhan lady cried,
Sita the fair, the lotus-eyed:
"Look round thee, dear; each flowery tree
Touched with the fire of morning see:
The Kinsuk, now the Frosts are fled,--
How glorious with his wreaths of red!
The Bel-trees see, so loved of men,
Hanging their boughs in every glen.
O'erburthened with their fruit and flowers:
A plenteous store of food is ours.
See, Lakshman, in the leafy trees,
Where'er they make their home.
Down hangs, the work of labouring bees
The ponderous honeycomb.
In the fair wood before us spread
The startled wild-cock cries:
Hark, where the flowers are soft to tread,
The peacock's voice replies.
Where elephants are roaming free,
And sweet birds' songs are loud,
The glorious Chitrakuta see:
His peaks are in