him by,
as she has passed by the other suitors. The maid who accompanies
Indumati sees that Aja awakens a deeper feeling, and she therefore
gives a longer account of his kingly line, ending with the
recommendation:

High lineage is his, fresh beauty, youth,
And virtue shaped in kingly breeding's mould;
Choose him, for he is worth your love; in truth,
A gem is ever fitly set in gold.

The princess looks lovingly at the handsome youth, but cannot speak
for modesty. She is made to understand her own feelings when the maid
invites her to pass on to the next candidate. Then the wreath is
placed round Aja's neck, the people of the city shout their approval,
and the disappointed suitors feel like night-blooming lotuses at
daybreak.

_Seventh canto. Aja's marriage_.--While the suitors retire to the
camps where they have left their retainers, Aja conducts Indumati into
the decorated and festive city. The windows are filled with the faces
of eager and excited women, who admire the beauty of the young prince
and the wisdom of the princess's choice. When the marriage ceremony
has been happily celebrated, the disappointed suitors say farewell
with pleasant faces and jealous hearts, like peaceful pools concealing
crocodiles. They lie in ambush on the road which he must take, and
when he passes with his young bride, they fall upon him. Aja provides
for the safety of Indumati, marshals his attendants, and greatly
distinguishes himself in the battle which follows. Finally he uses the
magic weapon, given him by the demigod, to benumb his adversaries, and
leaving them in this helpless condition, returns home. He and his
young bride are joyfully welcomed by King Raghu, who resigns the
kingdom in favour of Aja.

_Eighth canto. Aja's lament_.--As soon as King Aja is firmly
established on his throne, Raghu retires to a hermitage to prepare for
the death of his mortal part. After some years of religious meditation
he is released, attaining union with the eternal spirit which is
beyond all darkness. His obsequies are performed by his dutiful son.
Indumati gives birth to a splendid boy, who is named Dasharatha. One
day, as the queen is playing with her husband in the garden, a wreath
of magic flowers falls upon her from heaven, and she dies. The
stricken king clasps the body of his dead beloved, and laments over
her.

If flowers that hardly touch the body, slay it,
The simplest instruments of fate may bring
Des