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in heaven a blissful seat!”

      In him the monarch saw combined

      The fairest form, the noblest mind,

      And counselled how his son might share,

      The throne with him as Regent Heir.

      For fearful signs in earth and sky,

      And weakness warned him death was nigh:

      But Ráma to the world endeared

      By every grace his bosom cheered,

      The moon of every eye, whose ray

      Drove all his grief and fear away.

      So duty urged that hour to seize,

      Himself, his realm, to bless and please.

      From town and country, far and near,

      He summoned people, prince, and peer.

      To each he gave a meet abode,

      And honoured all and gifts bestowed.

      Then, splendid in his king’s attire,

      He viewed them, as the general Sire,

      In glory of a God arrayed,

      Looks on the creatures he has made.

      But Kekaya’s king he called not then

      For haste, nor Janak, lord of men;

      For after to each royal friend

      The joyful tidings he would send.

      Mid crowds from distant countries met

      The king upon his throne was set;

      Then honoured by the people, all

      The rulers thronged into the hall.

      On thrones assigned, each king in place

      Looked silent on the monarch’s face.

      Then girt by lords of high renown

      And throngs from hamlet and from town

      He showed in regal pride,

      As, honoured by the radiant band

      Of blessed Gods that round him stand,

      Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed.

1 Śatrughna means slayer of foes, and the word is repeated as an intensive epithet.

2 Alluding to the images of Vishṇu, which have four arms, the four princes being portions of the substance of that God.

      Canto 2. The People’s Speech.

      Then to the full assembly bowed

      The monarch, and addressed the crowd

      With gracious speech, in accents loud

      As heavenly drum or thunder-cloud:

      “Needs not to you who know declare

      How ever with paternal care

      My fathers of Ikshváku’s line

      Have ruled the realm which now is mine.

      I too have taught my feet to tread

      The pathway of the mighty dead,

      And with fond care that never slept

      Have, as I could, my people kept.

      So toiling still, and ne’er remiss

      For all my people’s weal and bliss,

Beneath the white umbrella’s1 shade.

      Old age is come and strength decayed.

      Thousands of years have o’er me flown,

      And generations round me grown

      And passed away. I crave at length

      Repose and ease for broken strength.

      Feeble and worn I scarce can bear

      The ruler’s toil, the judge’s care,

      With royal dignity, a weight

      That tries the young and temperate.

      I long to rest, my labour done,

      And in my place to set my son,

      If to the twice-born gathered here

      My counsel wise and good appear.

      For greater gifts than mine adorn

      Ráma my son, my eldest-born.

      Like Indra brave, before him fall

      The foeman’s cities, tower and wall.

      Him prince of men for power and might,

      The best maintainer of the right,

      Fair as the moon when nothing bars

      His glory close to Pushya’s stars,

      Him with to-morrow’s light I fain

      Would throne the consort of my reign.

      A worthy lord for you, I ween,

      Marked as her own by Fortune’s Queen.

      The triple world itself would be

      Well ruled by such a king as he.

      To such high bliss and happy fate

      Will I the country dedicate,

      And my sad heart will cease to grieve

      If he the precious charge receive.

      Thus is my careful plan matured,

      Thus for myself is rest secured;

      Lieges, approve the words I say,

      Or point ye out some wiser way.

      Devise your prudent plan. My mind

      Is fondly to this thought inclined,

      But men by keen debating move

      Some middle course which all approve.”

      The monarch ceased. In answer came

      The joyous princes’ glad acclaim.

      So peacocks in the rain rejoice

      And hail the cloud with lifted voice.

      Murmurs of joy from thousands round

      Shook the high palace with the sound.

      Then when the gathered throng had learned

      His will who right and gain discerned,

      Peasant and townsman, priest and chief,

      All met in consultation brief,

      And soon agreed with one accord

      Gave answer to their sovereign lord:

      “King of the land, we know thee old:

      Thousands of years have o’er thee rolled,

      Ráma thy son, we pray, anoint,

      And at thy side his place appoint

      Our gallant prince, so brave and strong,

      Riding in royal state along,

      Our eyes with joyful pride will see

      Screened by the shade that shelters thee.”

      Then spake

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