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aid and counsel wise

      The nuptial rites to solemnize.”

      The saint Vaśishṭha gave assent,

      And quickly to the task he went,

      With Viśvámitra, nothing loth,

      And Śatánanda aiding both.

      Then, as the rules prescribe, they made

      An altar in the midst, and laid

      Fresh wreaths of fragrant flowers thereon.

      The golden ladles round it shone;

      And many a vase, which branches hid

      Fixed in the perforated lid,

      And sprays, and cups, and censers there

      Stood filled with incense rich and rare;

      Shell-bowls, and spoons, and salvers dressed

      With gifts that greet the honoured guest;

      Piles of parched rice some dishes bore,

      Others with corn prepared ran o’er;

      And holy grass was duly spread

      In equal lengths, while prayers were said.

      Next chief of saints, Vaśishṭha came

      And laid the offering in the flame.

      Then by the hand King Janak drew

      His Sítá, beautiful to view,

      And placed her, bright in rich attire,

      Ráma to face, before the fire,

      Thus speaking to the royal boy

      Who filled Kauśalyá‘s heart with joy:

      “Here Sítá stands, my daughter fair,

      The duties of thy life to share.

      Take from her father, take thy bride;

      Join hand to hand, and bliss betide!

      A faithful wife, most blest is she,

      And as thy shade will follow thee.”

      Thus as he spoke the monarch threw

      O’er her young limbs the holy dew,

      While Gods and saints were heard to swell

      The joyous cry, ’Tis well! ’Tis well!

      His daughter Sítá thus bestowed,

      O’er whom the sacred drops had flowed.

      King Janak’s heart with rapture glowed.

      Then to Prince Lakshmaṇ thus he cried:

      “Take Urmilá thine offered bride,

      And clasp her hand within thine own

      Ere yet the lucky hour be flown.”

      Then to Prince Bharat thus cried he;

      “Come, take the hand of Mándavi.”

      Then to Śatrughna: “In thy grasp

      The hand of Srutakírti clasp.

      Now, Raghu’s sons, may all of you

      Be gentle to your wives and true;

      Keep well the vows you make to-day,

      Nor let occasion slip away.”

      King Janak’s word the youths obeyed;

      The maidens’ hands in theirs they laid.

      Then with their brides the princes went

      With ordered steps and reverent

      Round both the fire and Janak, round

      The sages and the sacred ground.

      A flowery flood of lucid dyes

      In rain descended from the skies,

      While with celestial voices blent

      Sweet strains from many an instrument,

      And the nymphs danced in joyous throng

      Responsive to the minstrel’s song.

      Such signs of exultation they

      Saw on the princes’ wedding day.

      Still rang the heavenly music’s sound

      When Raghu’s sons thrice circled round

      The fire, each one with reverent head,

      And homeward then their brides they led.

      They to the sumptuous palace hied

      That Janak’s care had seen supplied.

      The monarch girt with saint and peer

      Still fondly gazing followed near.

Canto 74. Ráma With The Axe.1

      Soon as the night had reached its close

      The hermit Viśvámitra rose;

      To both the kings he bade adieu

      And to the northern hill withdrew.

      Ayodhyá‘s lord of high renown

      Received farewell, and sought his town.

      Then as each daughter left her bower

      King Janak gave a splendid dower,

      Rugs, precious silks, a warrior force,

      Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse,

      Divine to see and well arrayed;

      And many a skilful tiring-maid,

      And many a young and trusty slave

      The father of the ladies gave.

      Silver and coral, gold and pearls

      He gave to his beloved girls.

      These precious gifts the king bestowed

      And sped his guest upon his road.

      The lord of Mithilá‘s sweet town

      Rode to his court and lighted down.

      Ayodhyá‘s monarch, glad and gay,

      Led by the seers pursued his way

      With his dear sons of lofty mind:

      The royal army marched behind.

      As on he fared the voice he heard

      Around of many a dismal bird,

      And every beast in wild affright

      Began to hurry to the right.

      The monarch to Vaśishṭha cried:

      “What strange misfortune will betide?

      Why do the beasts in terror fly,

      And birds of evil omen cry?

      What is it shakes my heart with dread?

      Why is my soul disquieted?”

      Soon as he heard, the mighty saint

      Thus answered Daśaratha’s plaint

      In sweetest tone: “Now, Monarch, mark,

      And learn from me the meaning dark.

      The voices of the birds of air

      Great peril to the host declare:

      The moving beasts the dread allay,

      So drive thy whelming fear away,”

      As

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