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and saint, and God drew nigh,

      And prayed them that the strife might cease,

      And the great rivals met in peace.

      ’Twas seen how Śiva’s bow has failed

      Unnerved, when Vishṇu’s might assailed,

      And Gods and heavenly sages thence

      To Vishnu gave preëminence.

      Then glorious Śiva in his rage

      Gave it to Devarát the sage

      Who ruled Videha’s fertile land,

      To pass it down from hand to hand.

      But this my bow, whose shafts smite down

      The foeman’s fenced tower and town,

      To great Richíka Vishṇu lent

      To be a pledge and ornament,

      Then Jamadagni, Bráhman dread,

      My sire, the bow inherited.

      But Arjun stooped to treachery vile

      And slew my noble sire by guile,

      Whose penance awful strength had gained,

      Whose hand the God-given bow retained.

      I heard indignant how he fell

      By mournful fate, too sad to tell.

      My vengeful fury since that time

      Scourges all Warriors for the crime.

      As generations spring to life

      I war them down in endless strife.

      All earth I brought beneath my sway,

      And gave it for his meed and pay

      To holy Kaśyap, when of yore

      The rites performed by him were o’er.

      Then to Mahendra’s hill I turned

      Strong in the strength that penance earned,

      And toiled upon his lofty head

      By Gods immortal visited.

      The breaking of the bow I knew

      From startled Gods conversing, through

      The airy regions, of thy deed,

      And hither came with swiftest speed.

      Now, for thy Warrior’s honour sake,

      This best of bows, O Ráma, take:

      This, owned by Vishṇu’s self of old,

      My sire and grandsire loved to hold.

      Drawn to its head upon the string,

      One town-destroying arrow bring;

      If this thou can, O hero, I

      In single fight thy strength will try.”

1 “The author of the Raghuvaṅśa places the mountain Mahendra in the territory of the king of the Kalingans, whose palace commanded a view of the ocean. It is well known that the country along the coast to the south of the mouths of the Ganges was the seat of this people. Hence it may be suspected that this Mahendra is what Pliny calls ‘promontorium Calingon.’ The modern name, Cape Palmyras, from the palmyras Borassus flabelliformis, which abound there agrees remarkably with the description of the poet who speaks of the groves of these trees. Raghuvaṅśa, VI. 51.” Schlegel.

2 Śiva.

3 Siva. God of the Azure Neck.

      Canto 76. Debarred From Heaven.

      The haughty challenge, undeterred

      The son of Daśaratha heard,

      And cried, while reverence for his sire

      Checked the full torrent of his ire:

      “Before this day have I been told

      The deed that stained thy hands of old.

      But pity bids my soul forget:

      Thy father, murdered, claimed the debt.

      My strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight,

      Too feeble for a Warrior’s might.

      Now will I show thy wondering eyes

      The prowess which they dare despise.”

      He hastened then with graceful ease

      That mighty bow and shaft to seize.

      His hand the weapon strung and swayed:

      The arrow on the string was laid.

      Then Jamadagni’s son he eyed,

      And thus in words of fury cried:

      “Thou art a Bráhman, still to be

      Most highly honoured, Chief, by me.

      For Viśvámitra’s sake beside

      Shall reverence due be ne’er denied.

      Though mine the power, I would not send

      A dart at thee thy life to end.

      But thy great power to wander free,

      Which penance-rites have won for thee,

      Or glorious worlds from thee to wrest,

      Is the firm purpose of my breast,

      And Vishṇu’s dart which now I strain

      Can ne’er be shot to fall in vain:

      It strikes the mighty, and it stuns

      The madness of the haughty ones.”

      Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir

      Preceded by the General Sire,

      Met in the air and gazed below

      On Ráma with that wondrous bow.

      Nymph, minstrel, angel, all were there,

      Snake-God, and spirit of the air,

      Giant, and bard, and gryphon, met,

      Their eyes upon the marvel set.

      In senseless hush the world was chained

      While Ráma’s hand the bow retained,

      And Jamadagni’s son amazed

      And powerless on the hero gazed.

      Then when his swelling heart had shrunk,

      And his proud strength in torpor sunk,

      Scarce his voice ventured, low and weak,

      To Ráma lotus-eyed, to speak:

      “When long ago I gave away

      The whole broad land to Kaśyap’s sway

      He charged me never to remain

      Within the limits of his reign.

      Obedient to my guide’s behest

      On earth by night I never rest.

      My choice is made, I will not dim

      Mine honour and be false to him.

      So, son of Raghu, leave me still

      The power to wander where I will,

      And swifter than the thought my flight

      Shall

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