Were ever brave and mighty-souled.

The land their arms had made their own

Was bounded by the sea alone.

Their holy works have won them praise,

Through countless years, from Manu's days.

Their ancient sire was Sagar, he

Whose high command dug out the sea:61

With sixty thousand sons to throng

Around him as he marched along.

From them this glorious tale proceeds:

The great RÁmÁyan tells their deeds.

This noble song whose lines contain

Lessons of duty, love, and gain,

We two will now at length recite,

While good men listen with delight.

On SarjÚ's62 bank, of ample size,

The happy realm of Ko?al lies,

King Da?aratha, lofty-souled,

That city guarded and controlled,

With towering SÁl trees belted round,65

And many a grove and pleasure ground,

As royal Indra, throned on high,

Rules his fair city in the sky.66

She seems a painted city, fair

With chess-board line and even square.67

And cool boughs shade the lovely lake

Where weary men their thirst may slake.

There gilded chariots gleam and shine,

And stately piles the Gods enshrine.

There gay sleek people ever throng

To festival and dance and song.

A mine is she of gems and sheen,

The darling home of Fortune's Queen.

With noblest sort of drink and meat,

The fairest rice and golden wheat,

And fragrant with the chaplet's scent

With holy oil and incense blent.

With many an elephant and steed,

And wains for draught and cars for speed.

With envoys sent by distant kings,

And merchants with their precious things

With banners o'er her roofs that play,

And weapons that a hundred slay;68

All warlike engines framed by man,

And every class of artisan.

A city rich beyond compare

With bards and minstrels gathered there,

And men and damsels who entrance

The soul with play and song and dance.

In every street is heard the lute,

The drum, the tabret, and the flute,

The Veda chanted soft and low,