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      “Be sure the lady’s fate repays

Some mighty vow of ancient days,3

      For blest with Ráma’s love is she

As, with the Moon’s, sweet Rohiní.”4

      Such were the witching words that came

      From lips of many a peerless dame

      Crowding the palace roofs to greet

      The hero as he gained the street.

1 A star in the spike of Virgo: hence the name of the mouth Chaitra or Chait.

2 The Rain-God.

3 In a former life.

4 One of the lunar asterisms, represented as the favourite wife of the Moon. See p. 4, note.

      Canto 17. Ráma’s Approach.

      As Ráma, rendering blithe and gay

      His loving friends, pursued his way,

      He saw on either hand a press

      Of mingled people numberless.

      The royal street he traversed, where

      Incense of aloe filled the air,

      Where rose high palaces, that vied

      With paly clouds, on either side;

      With flowers of myriad colours graced.

      And food for every varied taste,

      Bright as the glowing path o’erhead

      Which feet of Gods celestial tread,

      Loud benedictions, sweet to hear,

      From countless voices soothed his ear.

      While he to each gave due salute

      His place and dignity to suit:

      “Be thou,” the joyful people cried,

      “Be thou our guardian, lord and guide.

      Throned and anointed king to-day,

      Thy feet set forth upon the way

      Wherein, each honoured as a God,

      Thy fathers and forefathers trod.

      Thy sire and his have graced the throne,

      And loving care to us have shown:

      Thus blest shall we and ours remain,

      Yea still more blest in Ráma’s reign.

      No more of dainty fare we need,

      And but one cherished object heed,

      That we may see our prince today

      Invested with imperial sway.”

      Such were the words and pleasant speech

      That Ráma heard, unmoved, from each

      Of the dear friends around him spread,

      As onward through the street he sped,

      For none could turn his eye or thought

      From the dear form his glances sought,

      With fruitless ardour forward cast

      Even when Raghu’s son had past.

      And he who saw not Ráma nigh,

      Nor caught a look from Ráma’s eye,

      A mark for scorn and general blame,

      Reproached himself in bitter shame.

      For to each class his equal mind

      With sympathy and love inclined

      Most fully of the princely four,

      So greatest love to him they bore.

      His circling course the hero bent

      Round shrine and altar, reverent,

      Round homes of Gods, where cross-roads met,

      Where many a sacred tree was set.

      Near to his father’s house he drew

      Like Indra’s beautiful to view,

      And with the light his glory gave

      Within the royal palace drave.

      Through three broad courts, where bowmen kept

      Their watch and ward, his coursers swept,

      Then through the two remaining went

      On foot the prince preëminent.

      Through all the courts the hero passed,

      And gained the ladies’ bower at last;

      Then through the door alone withdrew,

      And left without his retinue.

      When thus the monarch’s noble boy

      Had gone his sire to meet,

      The multitude, elate with joy,

      Stood watching in the street,

      And his return with eager eyes

      Expected at the gates,

      As for his darling moon to rise

The King of Rivers1 waits.

1 The Sea.

      Canto 18. The Sentence.

      With hopeless eye and pallid mien

      There sat the monarch with the queen.

      His father’s feet with reverence due

      He clasped, and touched Kaikeyí‘s too.

      The king, with eyes still brimming o’er,

      Cried Ráma! and could do no more.

      His voice was choked, his eye was dim,

      He could not speak or look on him.

      Then sudden fear made Ráma shake

      As though his foot had roused a snake,

      Soon as his eyes had seen the change

      So mournful, terrible, and strange.

      For there his reason well-nigh fled,

      Sighing, with soul disquieted,

      To torturing pangs a prey,

      Dismayed, despairing, and distraught,

      In a fierce whirl of wildering thought

      The hapless monarch lay,

      Like Ocean wave-engarlanded

      Storm-driven from his tranquil bed,

      The Sun-God in eclipse,

      Or like a holy seer, heart-stirred

      With anguish, when a lying word

      Has passed his heedless lips.

      The sight of his dear father, pained

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