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fell from heaven a flowery rain,

      And with the song and dance the strain

      Of shell and tambour sweetly blent

      As forth the son of Raghu went.

      The hermit led: behind him came

      The bow-armed Ráma, dear to fame,

Whose locks were like the raven’s wing:1

      Then Lakshmaṇ, closely following.

      The Gods and Indra, filled with joy,

      Looked down upon the royal boy,

      And much they longed the death to see

Of their ten-headed enemy.2

      Ráma and Lakshmaṇ paced behind

      That hermit of the lofty mind,

As the young Aśvins,3 heavenly pair,

      Follow Lord Indra through the air.

      On arm and hand the guard they wore,

      Quiver and bow and sword they bore;

Two fire-born Gods of War seemed they.4

      He, Śiva’s self who led the way.

      Upon fair Sarjú‘s southern shore

      They now had walked a league and more,

      When thus the sage in accents mild

      To Ráma said: “Beloved child,

      This lustral water duly touch:

      My counsel will avail thee much.

      Forget not all the words I say,

      Nor let the occasion slip away.

      Lo, with two spells I thee invest,

      The mighty and the mightiest.

      O’er thee fatigue shall ne’er prevail,

      Nor age or change thy limbs assail.

      Thee powers of darkness ne’er shall smite

      In tranquil sleep or wild delight.

      No one is there in all the land

      Thine equal for the vigorous hand.

      Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell,

      Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell.

      None in the world with thee shall vie,

      O sinless one, in apt reply,

      In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact,

      Wisdom to plan and skill to act.

      This double science take, and gain

      Glory that shall for aye remain.

      Wisdom and judgment spring from each

      Of these fair spells whose use I teach.

      Hunger and thirst unknown to thee,

      High in the worlds thy rank shall be.

      For these two spells with might endued,

      Are the Great Father’s heavenly brood,

      And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace,

      Thou glory of Kakutstha’s race.

      Virtues which none can match are thine,

      Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine,

      And now these spells of might shall cast

      Fresh radiance o’er the gifts thou hast.”

      Then Ráma duly touched the wave,

      Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head,

      And took the spells the hermit gave,

      Whose soul on contemplation fed.

      From him whose might these gifts enhanced,

      A brighter beam of glory glanced:

      So shines in all his autumn blaze

      The Day-God of the thousand rays.

      The hermit’s wants those youths supplied,

      As pupils use to holy guide.

      And then the night in sweet content

      On Sarjú‘s pleasant bank they spent.

1 Youths of the Kshatriya class used to leave unshorn the side locks of their hair. These were called Káka-paksha, or raven’s wings.

2 The Rákshas or giant Rávaṇ, king of Lanká.

3 “The meaning of Aśvins (from aśva a horse, Persian asp, Greek ἵππος, Latin equus, Welsh ech) is Horsemen. They were twin deities of whom frequent mention is made in the Vedas and the Indian myths. The Aśvins have much in common with the Dioscuri of Greece, and their mythical genealogy seems to indicate that their origin was astronomical. They were, perhaps, at first the morning star and evening star. They are said to be the children of the sun and the nymph Aśviní, who is one of the lunar asterisms personified. In the popular mythology they are regarded as the physicians of the Gods.” Gorresio.

4 The word Kumára (a young prince, a Childe) is also a proper name of Skanda or Kártikeya God of War, the son of Śiva and Umá. The babe was matured in the fire.

      Canto 25. The Hermitage Of Love.

      Soon as appeared the morning light

      Up rose the mighty anchorite,

      And thus to youthful Ráma said,

      Who lay upon his leafy bed:

      “High fate is hers who calls thee son:

      Arise, ’tis break of day;

      Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done

Due at the morning’s ray.”1

      At that great sage’s high behest

      Up sprang the princely pair,

      To bathing rites themselves addressed,

      And breathed the holiest prayer.

      Their morning task completed, they

      To Viśvámitra came

      That store of holy works, to pay

      The worship saints may claim.

      Then to the hallowed spot they went

      Along fair Sarjú‘s side

      Where mix her waters confluent

With three-pathed Gangá‘s tide.2

      There was a sacred hermitage

      Where saints devout of mind

      Their lives through many a lengthened age

      To penance had resigned.

      That pure abode the

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