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thoughts of joy, he went.

      The royal street he traversed, where

      Waved flag and pennon to the air,

      And, as with joy the car he drove,

      He let his eyes delighted rove.

      On every side, where’er he came,

      He heard glad words, their theme the same,

      As in their joy the gathered folk

      Of Ráma and the throning spoke.

      Then saw he Ráma’s palace bright

      And vast as Mount Kailása’s height,

      That glorious in its beauty showed

      As Indra’s own supreme abode:

      With folding doors both high and wide;

      With hundred porches beautified:

      Where golden statues towering rose

      O’er gemmed and coralled porticoes.

      Bright like a cave in Meru’s side,

      Or clouds through Autumn’s sky that ride:

      Festooned with length of bloomy twine,

      Flashing with pearls and jewels’ shine,

      While sandal-wood and aloe lent

      The mingled riches of their scent;

      With all the odorous sweets that fill

      The breezy heights of Dardar’s hill.

      There by the gate the Sáras screamed,

      And shrill-toned peacocks’ plumage gleamed.

      Its floors with deftest art inlaid,

      Its sculptured wolves in gold arrayed,

      With its bright sheen the palace took

      The mind of man and chained the look,

      For like the sun and moon it glowed,

      And mocked Kuvera’s loved abode.

      Circling the walls a crowd he viewed

      Who stood in reverent attitude,

      With throngs of countrymen who sought

      Acceptance of the gifts they brought.

      The elephant was stationed there,

      Appointed Ráma’s self to bear;

      Adorned with pearls, his brow and cheek

      Were sandal-dyed in many a streak,

      While he, in stature, bulk, and pride,

With Indra’s own Airávat1 vied.

      Sumantra, borne by coursers fleet,

      Flashing a radiance o’er the street,

      To Ráma’s palace flew,

      And all who lined the royal road,

      Or thronged the prince’s rich abode,

      Rejoiced as near he drew.

      And with delight his bosom swelled

      As onward still his course he held

      Through many a sumptuous court

      Like Indra’s palace nobly made,

      Where peacocks revelled in the shade,

      And beasts of silvan sort.

      Through many a hall and chamber wide,

      That with Kailása’s splendour vied.

      Or mansions of the Blest,

      While Ráma’s friends, beloved and tried,

      Before his coming stepped aside,

      Still on Sumantra pressed.

      He reached the chamber door, where stood

      Around his followers young and good,

      Bard, minstrel, charioteer,

      Well skilled the tuneful chords to sweep,

      With soothing strain to lull to sleep,

      Or laud their master dear.

      Then, like a dolphin darting through

      Unfathomed depths of ocean’s blue

      With store of jewels decked,

      Through crowded halls that rock-like rose,

      Or as proud hills where clouds repose,

      Sumantra sped unchecked —

      Halls like the glittering domes on high

      Reared for the dwellers of the sky

      By heavenly architect.

1 The elephant of Indra.

      Canto 16. Ráma Summoned.

      So through the crowded inner door

      Sumantra, skilled in ancient lore,

      On to the private chambers pressed

      Which stood apart from all the rest.

      There youthful warriors, true and bold,

      Whose ears were ringed with polished gold,

      All armed with trusty bows and darts,

      Watched with devoted eyes and hearts.

      And hoary men, a faithful train,

      Whose aged hands held staves of cane,

      The ladies’ guard, apparelled fair

      In red attire, were stationed there.

      Soon as they saw Sumantra nigh,

      Each longed his lord to gratify,

      And from his seat beside the door

      Up sprang each ancient servitor.

      Then to the warders quickly cried

      The skilled Sumantra, void of pride:

      “Tell Ráma that the charioteer

      Sumantra waits for audience here.”

      The ancient men with one accord

      Seeking the pleasure of their lord,

      Passing with speed the chamber door

      To Ráma’s ear the message bore.

      Forthwith the prince with duteous heed

      Called in the messenger with speed,

      For ’twas his sire’s command, he knew,

      That sent him for the interview.

      Like Lord Kuvera, well arrayed,

      He pressed a couch of gold,

      Wherefrom a covering of brocade

      Hung down in many a fold.

      Oil and the sandal’s fragrant dust

      Had tinged his body o’er

      Dark as the stream the spearman’s thrust

      Drains from the wounded boar.

      Him Sítá watched with tender care,

      A chouri in her hand,

As Chitrá,1 ever fond in fair,

      Beside

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