So Raghu's son, his foemen's dread,

With SÍtÁ and his brother sped,

Girt round by many a twice-born sage,

To good SutÍksh?a's hermitage.420

Through woods for many a league he passed,

O'er rushing rivers full and fast,

Until a mountain fair and bright

As lofty Meru rose in sight.

Within its belt of varied wood

IkshvÁku's sons and SÍtÁ stood,

Where trees of every foliage bore

Blossom and fruit in endless store.

There coats of bark, like garlands strung,

Before a lonely cottage hung,

And there a hermit, dust-besmeared,

A lotus on his breast, appeared.

Then RÁma with obeisance due

Addressed the sage, as near he drew:

Thy presence, saint, with thee to speak.

O sage, whose merits ne'er decay,

The sage his eyes on RÁma bent,

Of virtue's friends preËminent;

Then words like these he spoke, and pressed

The son of Raghu to his breast:

Best champion of the rights of truth!

By thine approach this holy ground

A worthy lord this day has found.

I could not quit this mortal frame

Till thou shouldst come, O dear to fame:

To heavenly spheres I would not rise,

Expecting thee with eager eyes.

I knew that thou, unkinged, hadst made

Thy home in ChitrakÚ?a's shade.

E'en now, O RÁma, Indra, lord

Supreme by all the Gods adored,

King of the Hundred Offerings,421 said,

When he my dwelling visited,

That the good works that I have done

My choice of all the worlds have won.

Accept this meed of holy vows,

And with thy brother and thy spouse,

Roam, through my favour, in the sky

To that bright sage, of penance stern,

The high-souled RÁma spake in turn,

As VÁsava422 who rules the skies

To BrahmÁ's gracious speech replies:

O mighty hermit pure from sin:

But now, O saint, I pray thee tell

Where I within this wood may dwell:

For I by ?arabhanga old,

The son of Gautama, was told

That thou in every lore art wise,

Thus to the saint, whose glories high

Filled all the world, he made reply:

And thus again the holy man

His pleasant speech with joy began:

With many a charm: here take thy rest.

Here roots and kindly fruits abound,

And hermits love the holy ground.

Fair silvan beasts and gentle deer

In herds unnumbered wander here:

And as they roam, secure from harm,

Our eyes with grace and beauty charm:

Except the beasts in thickets bred,

The hermit's speech when RÁma heard,—

The hero ne'er by terror stirred,—

On his great bow his hand he laid,

And thus in turn his answer made:

Armed with their murderous barbs, would deal

Destruction mid the silvan race

That flocks around thy dwelling-place.

Mos