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glorious with unborrowed light,

      A liberal lord, of sunlike might,

      Sumantra hailed in words like these,

      Well skilled in gentle courtesies,

      As, with joined hands in reverence raised,

      Upon the beauteous prince he gazed:

      “Happy Kauśalyá! Blest is she,

      The Mother of a son like thee.

      Now rise, O Ráma, speed away.

      Go to thy sire without delay:

      For he and Queen Kaikeyí seek

      An interview with thee to speak.”

      The lion-lord of men, the best

      Of splendid heroes, thus addressed,

      To Sítá spake with joyful cheer:

      “The king and queen, my lady dear,

      Touching the throning, for my sake

      Some salutary counsel take.

      The lady of the full black eye

      Would fain her husband gratify,

      And, all his purpose understood,

      Counsels the monarch to my good.

      A happy fate is mine, I ween,

      When he, consulting with his queen,

      Sumantra on this charge, intent

      Upon my gain and good, has sent.

      An envoy of so noble sort

      Well suits the splendour of the court.

      The consecration rite this day

      Will join me in imperial sway.

      To meet the lord of earth, for so

      His order bids me, I will go.

      Thou, lady, here in comfort stay,

      And with thy maidens rest or play.”

      Thus Ráma spake. For meet reply

      The lady of the large black eye

      Attended to the door her lord,

      And blessings on his head implored:

      “The majesty and royal state

      Which holy Bráhmans venerate,

      The consecration and the rite

      Which sanctifies the ruler’s might,

      And all imperial powers should be

      Thine by thy father’s high decree,

      As He, the worlds who formed and planned,

      The kingship gave to Indra’s hand.

      Then shall mine eyes my king adore

      When lustral rites and fast are o’er,

      And black deer’s skin and roebuck’s horn

      Thy lordly limbs and hand adorn.

      May He whose hands the thunder wield

      Be in the east thy guard and shield;

      May Yáma’s care the south befriend,

      And Varuṇ‘s arm the west defend;

      And let Kuvera, Lord of Gold,

      The north with firm protection hold.”

      Then Ráma spoke a kind farewell,

      And hailed the blessings as they fell

      From Sítá‘s gentle lips; and then,

      As a young lion from his den

      Descends the mountain’s stony side,

      So from the hall the hero hied.

      First Lakshmaṇ at the door he viewed

      Who stood in reverent attitude,

      Then to the central court he pressed

      Where watched the friends who loved him best.

      To all his dear companions there

      He gave kind looks and greeting fair.

      On to the lofty car that glowed

      Like fire the royal tiger strode.

      Bright as himself its silver shone:

      A tiger’s skin was laid thereon.

      With cloudlike thunder, as it rolled,

      It flashed with gems and burnished gold,

      And, like the sun’s meridian blaze,

      Blinded the eye that none could gaze.

      Like youthful elephants, tall and strong,

      Fleet coursers whirled the car along:

      In such a car the Thousand-eyed

      Borne by swift horses loves to ride.

So like Parjanya,2 when he flies

      Thundering through the autumn skies,

      The hero from the palace sped,

      As leaves the moon some cloud o’erhead.

      Still close to Ráma Lakshmaṇ kept,

      Behind him to the car he leapt,

      And, watching with fraternal care,

      Waved the long chouri’s silver hair,

      As from the palace gate he came

      Up rose the tumult of acclaim.

      While loud huzza and jubilant shout

      Pealed from the gathered myriads out.

      Then elephants, like mountains vast,

      And steeds who all their kind surpassed,

      Followed their lord by hundreds, nay

      By thousands, led in long array.

      First marched a band of warriors trained,

      With sandal dust and aloe stained;

      Well armed was each with sword and bow,

      And every breast with hope aglow,

      And ever, as they onward went,

      Shouts from the warrior train,

      And every sweet-toned instrument

      Prolonged the minstrel strain.

      On passed the tamer of his foes,

      While well clad dames, in crowded rows,

      Each chamber lattice thronged to view,

      And chaplets on the hero threw.

      Then all, of peerless face and limb,

      Sang Ráma’s praise for love of him,

      And blent their voices, soft and sweet,

      From palace high and crowded street:

      “Now, sure, Kauśalyá‘s heart must swell

      To see the son she loves so well,

      Thee Ráma, thee, her joy and pride,

      Triumphant o’er the realm preside.”

      Then — for they knew his bride most fair

      Of all who part the soft dark hair,

      His love, his life, possessed the whole

      Of

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