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upon me of hapless fate,

      For thee as God I venerate.

Gods, spirits, bards of heavenly birth,2

      The birds of air, the snakes of earth

      Before the might of Rávaṇ quail,

      Much less can mortal man avail.

      He draws, I hear, from out the breast

      The valour of the mightiest.

      No, ne’er can I with him contend,

      Or with the forces he may send.

      How can I then my darling lend,

      Godlike, unskilled in battle? No,

      I will not let my young child go.

      Foes of thy rite, those mighty ones,

      Sunda and Upasunda’s sons,

      Are fierce as Fate to overthrow:

      I will not let my young child go.

      Márícha and Suváhu fell

      Are valiant and instructed well.

      One of the twain I might attack.

      With all my friends their lord to back.”

1 Consisting of horse, foot, chariots, and elephants.

2 “The Gandharvas, or heavenly bards, had originally a warlike character but were afterwards reduced to the office of celestial musicians cheering the banquets of the Gods. Dr. Kuhn has shown their identity with the Centaurs in name, origin and attributes.” Gorresio.

      Canto 23. Vasishtha’s Speech.

      While thus the hapless monarch spoke,

      Paternal love his utterance broke.

      Then words like these the saint returned,

      And fury in his bosom burned:

      “Didst thou, O King, a promise make,

      And wishest now thy word to break?

      A son of Raghu’s line should scorn

      To fail in faith, a man forsworn.

      But if thy soul can bear the shame

      I will return e’en as I came.

      Live with thy sons, and joy be thine,

      False scion of Kakutstha’s line.”

      As Viśvámitra, mighty sage,

      Was moved with this tempestuous rage,

      Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame,

      And fear upon the Immortals came.

      But Saint Vaśishṭha, wisest seer,

      Observant of his vows austere,

      Saw the whole world convulsed with dread,

      And thus unto the monarch said:

      “Thou, born of old Ikshváku’s seed,

      Art Justice’ self in mortal weed.

      Constant and pious, blest by fate,

      The right thou must not violate.

      Thou, Raghu’s son, so famous through

      The triple world as just and true,

      Perform thy bounden duty still,

      Nor stain thy race by deed of ill.

      If thou have sworn and now refuse

      Thou must thy store of merit lose.

      Then, Monarch, let thy Ráma go,

      Nor fear for him the demon foe.

      The fiends shall have no power to hurt

      Him trained to war or inexpert,

      Nor vanquish him in battle field,

      For Kuśik’s son the youth will shield.

      He is incarnate Justice, he

      The best of men for bravery.

      Embodied love of penance drear,

      Among the wise without a peer.

      Full well he knows, great Kuśik’s son,

      The arms celestial, every one,

      Arms from the Gods themselves concealed,

      Far less to other men revealed.

      These arms to him, when earth he swayed,

      Mighty Kriśáśva, pleased, conveyed.

      Kriśáśva’s sons they are indeed,

Brought forth by Daksha’s lovely seed,1

      Heralds of conquest, strong and bold,

      Brilliant, of semblance manifold.

      Jayá and Vijayá, most fair,

      And hundred splendid weapons bare.

      Of Jayá, glorious as the morn,

      First fifty noble sons were born,

      Boundless in size yet viewless too,

      They came the demons to subdue.

      And fifty children also came

      Of Vijayá the beauteous dame,

      Sanháras named, of mighty force,

      Hard to assail or check in course.

      Of these the hermit knows the use,

      And weapons new can he produce.

      All these the mighty saint will yield

      To Ráma’s hand, to own and wield;

      And armed with these, beyond a doubt

      Shall Ráma put those fiends to rout.

      For Ráma and the people’s sake,

      For thine own good my counsel take,

      Nor seek, O King, with fond delay,

      The parting of thy son to stay.”

1 These mysterious animated weapons are enumerated in Cantos XXIX and XXX. Daksha was the son of Brahmá and one of the Prajápatis, Demiurgi, or secondary authors of creation.

      Canto 24. The Spells.

      Vaśishṭha thus was speaking still:

      The monarch, of his own free will,

      Bade with quick zeal and joyful cheer

      Ráma and Lakshmaṇ hasten near.

      Mother and sire in loving care

      Sped their dear son with rite and prayer:

      Vaśishṭha blessed him ere he went;

      O’er his loved head the father bent,

      And then to Kuśik’s son resigned

      Ráma with Lakshmaṇ close behind.

      Standing by Viśvámitra’s side,

      The youthful hero, lotus-eyed,

      The Wind-God saw, and sent a breeze

      Whose

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