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friends rejoice as joyed the Blest

      When Amrit crowned their eager quest.

      So well, my child, thy course maintain,

      And from all ill thy soul refrain.”

      The friends of Ráma, gathered nigh,

      Longing their lord to gratify,

      Ran to Kauśalyá‘s bower to tell

      The tidings that would please her well.

      She, host of dames, with many a gem,

      And gold, and kine rewarded them.

      Then Ráma paid the reverence due,

      Mounted the chariot, and withdrew,

      And to his splendid dwelling drove

      While crowds to show him honour strove.

      The people, when the monarch’s speech

      Their willing ears had heard,

      Were wild with joy as though on each

      Great gifts had been conferred.

      With meek and low salute each man

      Turned to his home away,

      And there with happy heart began

      To all the Gods to pray.

1 Whisks, usually made of the long tails of the Yak.

2 Chitraratha, King of the Gandharvas.

3 The Chandrakánta or Moonstone, a sort of crystal supposed to be composed of congealed moonbeams.

4 A customary mark of respect to a superior.

      Canto 4. Ráma Summoned.

      The crowd dismissed, to high debate

      The monarch called his peers of state,

      And, counsel from their lips obtained,

      Firm in his will his will explained:

      “To-morrow with auspicious ray

      The moon in Pushya’s sign will stay;

      Be that the time with happy fate

      Mine eldest son to consecrate,

      And let my Ráma, lotus-eyed,

      As Regent o’er the state preside.”

      He sought, within, his charioteer,

      And cried “Again bring Ráma here.”

      To Ráma’s home Sumantra hied

      Again to be the prince’s guide.

      His coming, told to Ráma’s ear,

      Suggested anxious doubt and fear.

      He bade the messenger be led

      That instant in, and thus he said:

      “Tell me the cause, omitting naught,

      Why thou again my house hast sought.”

      The envoy answered: “Prince, thy sire

      Has sent thy presence to require.

      My sender known, ’tis thine to say

      If thou wilt go or answer nay.”

      Then Ráma, when he heard his speech,

      Made haste the royal court to reach.

      Soon as the monarch was aware

      His dearest son was waiting there,

      Eager the parley to begin

      He bade them lead the prince within,

      Soon as he passed the chamber door

      The hero bent him to the floor,

      And at a distance from his seat

      Raised his joined hands his sire to greet.

      The monarch raised him from the ground,

      And loving arms about him wound,

      Then pointed to a seat that shone

      With gold for him to rest upon.

      “Aged am I,” he said, “and worn;

      In life’s best joys my share have borne;

      Rites to the Gods, in hundreds, paid,

      With gifts of corn and largess made.

      I yearned for sons: my life is blest

      With them and thee of sons the best.

      No debt to saints or Bráhmans, no,

      Nor spirits, Gods, or self I owe.

      One duty now remains alone,

      To set thee on thy father’s throne.

      Now therefore, Ráma, hear my rede,

      And mark my words with duteous heed:

      This day the peoples’ general voice,

      Elects thee king of love and choice,

      And I, consenting to the prayer,

      Will make thee, darling, Regent Heir.

      Dread visions, each returning night,

      With evil omens scare my sight.

      Red meteors with a fearful sound

      Shoot wildly downward to the ground,

      While tempests lash the troubled air;

      And they who read the stars declare

      That, leagued against my natal sign,

Ráhu,1 the Sun,2 and Mars combine.

      When portents dire as these appear,

      A monarch’s death or woe is near.

      Then while my senses yet are spared,

      And thought and will are unimpaired,

      Be thou, my son, anointed king:

      Men’s fancy is a fickle thing.

      To-day the moon, in order due,

Entered the sign Punarvasu,3

      To-morrow, as the wise foretell,

      In Pushya’s favouring stars will dwell:

      Then on the throne shalt thou be placed.

      My soul, prophetic, counsels haste:

      Thee, O my son, to-morrow I

      As Regent Heir will sanctify.

      So till the coming night be passed

      Do thou and Sítá strictly fast:

      From worldly thoughts thy soul refrain,

      And couched on holy grass remain.

      And let thy trusted lords attend

      In careful watch upon their friend,

      For, unexpected, check and bar

      Our weightiest counsels often mar.

      While

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