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when the morrow’s dawn is fair

      The king will consecrate his heir:

So Nahush,1 as the wise relate,

      Yayáti joyed to consecrate.”

      Thus having said, Vaśishṭha next

      Ordained the fast by rule and text,

      For Ráma faithful to his vows

      And the Videhan dame his spouse.

      Then from the prince’s house he hied

      With courteous honours gratified.

      Round Ráma gathered every friend

      In pleasant talk a while to spend.

      He bade good night to all at last,

      And to his inner chamber passed.

      Then Ráma’s house shone bright and gay

      With men and maids in glad array,

      As in the morning some fair lake

      When all her lotuses awake,

      And every bird that loves the flood

      Flits joyous round each opening bud.

      Forth from the house Vaśishṭha drove,

      That with the king’s in splendour strove,

      And all the royal street he viewed

      Filled with a mighty multitude

      The eager concourse blocked each square,

      Each road and lane and thoroughfare,

      And joyous shouts on every side

      Rose like the roar of Ocean’s tide,

      As streams of men together came

      With loud huzza and glad acclaim.

      The ways were watered, swept and clean,

      And decked with flowers and garlands green

      And all Ayodhyá shone arrayed

      With banners on the roofs that played.

      Men, women, boys with eager eyes,

      Expecting when the sun should rise,

      Stood longing for the herald ray

      Of Ráma’s consecration day,

      To see, a source of joy to all,

      The people-honoured festival.

      The priest advancing slowly through

      The mighty crowd he cleft in two,

      Near to the monarch’s palace drew.

      He sought the terrace, by the stair,

      Like a white cloud-peak high in air,

      The reverend king of men to meet

      Who sate upon his splendid seat:

      Thus will Vṛihaspati arise

      To meet the monarch of the skies.

      But when the king his coming knew,

      He left his throne and near him drew

      Questioned by him Vaśishṭha said

      That all his task was duly sped.

      Then all who sate there, honouring

      Vaśishṭha, rose as rose the king.

      Vaśishṭha bade his lord adieu,

      And all the peers, dismissed, withdrew.

      Then as a royal lion seeks

      His cave beneath the rocky peaks,

      So to the chambers where abode

      His consorts Daśaratha strode.

      Full-thronged were those delightful bowers

      With women richly dressed,

      And splendid as the radiant towers

      Where Indra loves to rest.

      Then brighter flashed a thousand eyes

      With the light his presence lent,

      As, when the moon begins to rise

      The star thronged firmament.

1 A king of the Lunar race, and father of Yayáti.

      Canto 6. The City Decorated.

      Then Ráma bathed in order due,

      His mind from worldly thoughts withdrew,

      And with his large-eyed wife besought

      Náráyaṇ, as a votary ought.

      Upon his head the brimming cup

      Of holy oil he lifted up,

      Then placed within the kindled fire

      The offering to that heavenly Sire,

      And as he sipped the remnant prayed

      To Him for blessing and for aid.

      Then with still lips and tranquil mind

      With his Videhan he reclined,

      In Vishṇu’s chapel, on a bed

      Where holy grass was duly spread,

      While still the prince’s every thought

      The God supreme, Náráyaṇ, sought.

      One watch remained the night to close

      When Ráma from his couch arose,

      And bade the men and maids adorn

      His palace for the solemn morn.

      He heard the bards and heralds raise

      Auspicious strains of joy and praise;

      And breathed devout, with voice restrained,

      The hymn for morning rites ordained;

      Then, with his head in reverence bowed,

      Praised Madhu’s conquering foe aloud,

      And, in pure linen robes arrayed,

      The priests to raise their voices prayed.

      Obedient to the summons they

      Proclaimed to all the festal day.

      The Bráhmans’ voices, deep and sweet,

      Resounded through the crowded street,

      And echoed through Ayodhyá went

      By many a loud-toned instrument.

      Then all the people joyed to hear

      That Ráma with his consort dear

      Had fasted till the morning light

      In preparation for the rite.

      Swiftly the joyful tidings through

      Ayodhyá‘s crowded city flew,

      And soon as dawn appeared, each man

      To decorate the town began.

      In all the temples bright and fair

      As white clouds towering in the air,

      In streets, and where the cross-ways met,

      Where holy fig-trees had been set,

      In open square, in sacred shade,

      Where

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