And Rákshas clamour filled the air.

  The giant raised his arm, and fast

  Came the tremendous980 spear he cast.

  Hanúmán caught it as it flew,

  And knapped it on his knee in two.

  The giant saw the broken spear:

  His clouded eye confessed his fear;

  Yet at Sugríva’s head he sent

  A peak from Lanká’s mountain rent.

  The rushing mass no might could stay:

  Sugríva fell and senseless lay.

  The giant stooped his foe to seize,

  And bore him thence, as bears the breeze

  A cloud in autumn through the sky.

  He heard the sad Immortals sigh,

  And shouts of triumph long and loud

  Went up from all the Rákshas crowd.

  Through Lanká’s gate the giant passed

  Holding his struggling captive fast,

  While from each terrace, house, and tower

  Fell on his haughty head a shower

  Of fragrant scent and flowery rain,

  Blossoms and leaves and scattered grain.981

  By slow degrees the Vánars’ lord

  Felt life and sense and strength restored.

  He heard the giants’ joyful boast:

  He thought upon his Vánar host.

  His teeth and feet he fiercely plied,

  And bit and rent the giant’s side,

  Who, mad with pain and smeared with gore,

  Hurled to the ground the load he bore.

  Regardless of a storm of blows

  Swift to the sky the Vánar rose,

  Then lightly like a flying ball

  High overleapt the city wall,

  And joyous for deliverance won

  Regained the side of Raghu’s son.

  And Kumbhakarṇa, mad with hate

  And fury, sallied from the gate,

  The carnage of the foe renewed

  And filled his maw with gory food.

  Slaying, with headlong frenzy blind,

  Both Vánar foes and giant kind.

  Nor would Sumitrá’s valiant son982

  The might of Kumbhakarṇa shun,

  Who through his harness felt the sting

  Of keen shafts loosened from the string.

  His heart confessed the warrior’s power,

  And, bleeding from the ceaseless shower

  That smote him on the chest and side,

  With words like these the giant cried:

  “Well fought, well fought, Sumitrá’s son;

  Eternal glory hast thou won,

  For thou in desperate fight hast met

  The victor never conquered yet,

  Whom, borne on huge Airávat’s back,

  E’en Indra trembles to attack.

  Go, son of Queen Sumitrá, go:

  Thy valour and thy strength I know.

  Now all my hope and earnest will

  Is Ráma in the fight to kill.

  Let him beneath my weapons fall,

  And I will meet and conquer all.”

  The chieftain, of Sumitrá born,

  Made answer as he laughed in scorn:

  “Yea, thou hast won a victor’s fame

  From trembling Gods and Indra’s shame.

  There waits thee now a mightier foe

  Whose prowess thou hast yet to know.

  There, famous in a hundred lands,

  Ráma the son of Raghu stands.”

  Straight at the king the giant sped,

  And earth was shaken at his tread.

  His bow the hero grasped and strained,

  And deadly shafts in torrents rained.

  As Kumbhakarṇa felt each stroke

  From his huge mouth burst fire and smoke;

  His hands were loosed in mortal pain

  And dropped his weapons on the plain.

  Though reft of spear and sword and mace

  No terror changed his haughty face.

  With heavy hands he rained his blows

  And smote to death a thousand foes.

  Where’er the furious monster strode

  While down his limbs the red blood flowed

  Like torrents down a mountain’s side,

  Vánars and bears and giants died.

  High o’er his head a rock he swung,

  And the huge mass at Ráma flung.

  But Ráma’s arrows bright as flame

  Shattered the mountain as it came.

  Then Raghu’s son, his eyes aglow

  With burning anger, charged the foe,

  And as his bow he strained and tried

  With fearful clang the cord replied.

  Wroth at the bowstring’s threatening clang

  To meet his foe the giant sprang.

  High towering with enormous frame

  Huge as a wood-crowned hill he came.

  But Ráma firm and self-possessed

  In words like these the foe addressed:

  “Draw near, O Rákshas lord, draw near,

  Nor turn thee from the fight in fear.

  Thou meetest Ráma face to face,

  Destroyer of the giant race.

  Come, fight, and thou shalt feel this hour,

  Laid low in death, thy conqueror’s power.”

  He ceased: and mad with wrath and pride

  The giant champion thus replied:

  “Come thou to me and thou shalt find

  A foeman of a different kind.

  No Khara, no Virádha, — thou

  Hast met a mightier warrior now.

  The strength of Kumbhakarṇa fear,

  And dread the iron mace I rear

  This mace in days of yore subdued

  The Gods and Dánav multitude.

  Prove, lion of Ikshváku’s line,

  Thy power upon these limbs of mine.

  Then, after trial, shalt thou bleed,

  And with thy flesh my hunger feed.”

  He ceased: and Ráma, undismayed,

  Upon his cord those arrows laid

  Which pierced the stately Sál trees through,

  And Báli king of Vánars slew.

  They flew, they smote, but smote in vain

  Those mighty limbs that felt no pain.

  Then Ráma sent with surest aim

  The dart that bore the Wind-God’s name.

  The missile from the giant tore

  His huge arm and the mace it bore,

  Which crushed the Vánars where it fell:

  And dire was Kumbhakarṇa’s yell.

  The giant seized a tree, and then

  Rushed madly at the lord of men.

  Another dart, Lord Indra’s own,

  To meet his furious onset thrown,

  His left arm from the shoulder lopped,

  And like a mountain peak it dropped.

  Then from the bow of Ráma sped

  Two arrows, each with crescent head;

  And, winged with might which naught could stay,

  They cut the giant’s legs away.

  They fell, and awful was the sound

  As those vast columns shook the ground;

  And sky and sea and hill and cave

  In echoing roars their answer gave.

  Then from his side the hero drew

  A dart that like the tempest flew —

  No deadlier shaft has ever flown

  Than that which Indra called his own —

  Nor could the giant’s mail-armed neck

  The fury of the missile check.

  Through skin and flesh and bone it smote

  And rent asunder head and throat.

  Down with the sound of thunder rolled

  The head adorned with rings of gold,

  And crushed to pieces in its fall

  A gate, a tower, a massive wall.

  Hurled to the sea the body fell:

  Terrific was the ocean’s swell,

  Nor could swift fin and nimble leap

  Save the crushed creatures of the deep.

  Thus he who plagued in impious pride

  The Gods and Bráhmans fought and died.

  Glad were the hosts of heaven, and long

  The air re-echoed with their song.983

  Canto LXVIII. Rávan’s Lament.

  THEY RAN TO Rávaṇ in his hall

  And told him of his brother’s fall:

  “Fierce as the God who rules the dead,

  Upon the routed foe he fed;

  And, victor for a while, at length

  Fell slain by Ráma’s matchless strength.

  Now like a mighty hill in size

  His mangled trunk extended lies,

  And where he fell, a bleeding mass,

  Blocks Lanká’s gate that none may pass.”

  The monarch heard: his strength gave way;

  And fainting on the ground he lay.

  Grieved at the giants’ mournful tale,

  Long, shrill was Atikáya’s wail;

  And Triśirás in sorrow bowed

  His triple head, and wept aloud.

  Mahodar, Mahápárśva shed

  Hot tears and mourned their brother dead.

  At length, his wandering sense restored,

  In loud lament cried Lanká’s lord:

  “Ah chief, for might and valour famed,

  Whose arm the haughty foeman tamed,

  Forsaking me, thy friends and all,

  Why hast thou fled to Yáma’s hall?

  Why hast thou fled to taste no more

  The slaughtered foeman’s flesh and gore?

  Ah me, my life is done to-day:

  My better arm is lopped away.

  Whereon in danger I relied,

  And, fearless, Gods and fiends defied.

  How could a shaft from Ráma’s bow

  The matchless giant overthrow,

  Whose iron frame so strong of yore

  The crushing bolt of Indra bore?

  This day the Gods and sages meet

  And triumph at their foe’s defeat.

  This day the Vánar chiefs will boast

  And, with new ardour fired, their host

  In fiercer onset will assail

  Our city, and the ramparts scale.

  What care I for a monarch’s name,

  For empire, or the Maithil dame?

  What joy can power and riches give,

  Or life that I should care to live,

  Unless this arm in mortal fray

  The slayer of my brother slay?

  For me, of Kumbhakarṇa reft,

  Death is the only solace left;

  And I will seek, o’erwhelmed with woes,

  The realm to which my brother goes.

  Ah me ill-minded, not to take

  His counsel when Vibhishaṇ spake

  When he this evil day foretold

  My foolish heart was overbold:

  I drove my sage adviser hence,

  And reap the fruits of mine offence.”

  Canto LXIX. Narántak’s Death.

  PIERCED TO THE soul by sorrow’s sting

  Thus wailed the evil-hearted king.

  Then Triśirás stood forth and cried:

  “Yea, father, he has fought and died,

  Our bravest: and the loss is sore:

  But rouse thee, and lament no more.

  Hast thou not still thy coat of mail,

  Thy bow and shafts which never fail?

  A thousand asses draw thy car

  Which roars like thunder heard afar.

  Thy valour and thy warrior skill,

  Thy God-given strength, are left thee still.

  Unarmed, thy matchless might subdued

  The Gods and Dánav multitude.

  Armed with thy glorious weapons, how

  Shall Raghu’s son oppose thee now?

  Or, sire, within thy palace stay;

  And I myself will sweep away

  Thy foes, like Garuḍ when he makes

  A banquet of the writhing snakes.

  Soon Raghu’s son shall press the plain,

  As Narak984 fell by Vishṇu slain,

  Or Śambar985 in rebellious pride

  Who met the King of Gods986 and died.”

  The monarch heard: his courage grew,

  And life and spirit came anew.

  Devántak and Narántak heard,

  And their fierce souls with joy were stirred;

  And Atikáya987 burned to fight,

  And heard the summons with delight;

  While from the rest loud rang the cry,

  “I too will fight,” “and I,” “and I.”

  The joyous king his sons embraced,

  With gold and chains and jewels graced,

  And sent them forth with stirring speech

  Of benison and praise to each.

  Forth from the gate the princes sped

  And ranged for war the troops they led.

  The Vánar legions charged anew,

  And trees and rocks for missiles flew.

  They saw Narántak’s mighty form

  Borne on a steed that mocked the storm.

  To check his charge in vain they strove:

  Straight through their host his way he clove,

  As springs a dolphin through the tide:

  And countless Vánars fell and died,

  And mangled limbs and corpses lay

  To mark the chief’s ensanguined way,

  Sugríva saw them fall or fly

  When fierce Narántak’s steed was nigh,

  And marked the giant where he sped

  O’er heaps of dying or of dead.

  He bade the royal Angad face

  That bravest chief of giant race.

  As springs the sun from clouds dispersed,

  So Angad from the Vánars burst.

  No weapon for the fight he bore

  Save nails and teeth, and sought no more.

  “Leave, giant chieftain,” thus he spoke,

  “Leave foes unworthy of thy stroke,

  And bend against a nobler heart

  The terrors of thy deadly dart.”

  Narántak heard the words he spake:

  Fast breathing, like an angry snake,

  With bloody teeth his lips he pressed

  And hurled his dart at Angad’s breast.

  True was the aim and fierce the stroke,

  Yet on his breast the missile broke.

  Then Angad at the giant flew,

  And with a blow his courser slew:

  The fierce hand crushed through flesh and bone,

  And steed and rider fell o’erthrown.

  Narántak’s eyes with fury blazed:

  His heavy hand on high he raised

  And struck in savage wrath the head

  Of Báli’s son, who reeled and bled,

  Fainted a moment and no more:

  Then stronger, fiercer than before

  Smote with that fist which naught could stay,

  And crushed to death the giant lay.

  Canto LXX. The Death Of Trisirás.

  THEN RAGED THE Rákshas chiefs, and all

  Burned to avenge Narántak’s fall.

  Devántak raised his club on high

  And rushed at Angad with a cry.

  Behind came Triśirás, and near

  Mahodar charged with levelled spear.

  There Angad stood to fight with three:

  High o’er his head he waved a tree,

  And at Devántak, swift and true

  As Indra’s flaming bolt, it flew.

  But, cut by giant shafts in twain,

  With minished force it flew in vain.

  A shower of trees and blocks of stone

  From Angad’s hand was fiercely thrown;

  But well his club Devántak plied

  And turned each rock and tree aside.

  Nor yet, by three such foes assailed,

  The heart of Angad sank or quailed.

  He slew the mighty beast that bore

  Mahodar: from his head he tore

  A bleeding tusk, and blow on blow

  Fell fiercely on his Rákshas foe.

  The giant reeled, but strength regained,

  And furious strokes on Angad rained,

  Who, wounded by the storm of blows,

  Sank on his knees, but swiftly rose.

  Then Triśirás, as up he sprang,

  Drew his great bow with awful clang,

  And fixed three arrows from his sheaf

  Full in the forehead of the chief.

  Hanúmán saw, nor long delayed

  To speed with Níla to his aid,

  Who at the three-faced giant sent

  A peak from Lanká’s mountain rent.

  But Triśirás with certain aim

  Shot rapid arrows as it came:

  And shivered by their force it broke

  And fell to earth with flash and smoke.

  Then as the Wind-God’s son came nigh,

  Devántak reared his mace on high.

  Hanúmán smote him on the head

  And stretched the monstrous giant dead.

  Fierce Triśirás with fury strained

  His bow, and showers of arrows rained

  That smote on Níla’s side and chest:

  He sank a moment, sore distressed;

  But quickly gathered strength to seize

  A mountain with its crown of trees.

  Crushed by the hill, distained with gore,

  Mahodar fell to rise no more.

  Then Triśirás raised high his spear

  Which chilled the trembling foe with fear

  And, like a flashing meteor through

  The air at Hanúmán it flew.

  The Vánar shunned the threatened stroke,

  And with strong hands the weapon broke.

  The giant drew his glittering blade:

  Dire was the wound the weapon made

  Deep in the Vánar’s ample chest,

  Who, for a moment sore oppressed,

  Raised his broad hand, regaining might,

  And struck the rover of the night.

  Fierce was the blow: with one wild yell

  Low on the earth the monster fell.

  Hanúmán seized his fallen sword

  Which served no more its senseless lord,

  And from the monster triple-necked

  Smote his huge heads with crowns bedecked.

  Then Mahápárśva burned with ire;

  Fierce flashed his eyes with vengeful fire.

  A moment on the dead he gazed,

  Then his black mace aloft was raised,

  And down the mass of iron came

  That struck and shook the Vánar’s frame.

  Hanúmán’s chest was wellnigh crushed,

  And from his mouth red torrents gushed:

  Yet served one instant to restore

  His spirit: from the foe he tore

  His awful mace, and smote, and laid

  The giant in the dust dismayed.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583 584 585 586 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594 595 596 597 598 599 600 601 602 603 604 605 606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630 631 632 633 634 635 636 637 638 639 640 641 642 643 644 645 646 647 648 649 650 651 652 653 654 655 656 657 658 659 660 661 662 663 664 665 666 667 668 669 670 671 672 673 674 675 676 677 678 679 680 681 682 683 684 685 686 687 688 689 690 691 692 693 694 695 696 697 698 699 700 701 702 703 704 705 706 707 708 709 710 711 712 713 714 715 716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739 740 741 742 743 744 745 746 747 748 749 750 751 752 753 754 755 756 757 758 759 760 761 762 763 764 765 766 767 768 769 770 771 772 773 774 775 776 777 778 779 780 781 782 783 784 785 786 787 788 789 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835 836 837 838 839 840 841 842 843 844 845 846 847 848 849 850 851 852 853 854 855 856 857 858 859 860 861 862 863 864 865 866 867 868 869 870 871 872 873 874 875 876 877 878 879 880 881 882 883 884 885 886 887 888 889 890 891 892 893 894 895 896 897 898 899 900 901 902 903 904 905 906 907 908 909 910 911 912 913 914 915 916 917 918 919 920 921 922 923 924 925 926 927 928 929 930 931 932 933 934 935 936 937 938 939 940 941 942 943 944 945 946 947 948 949 950 951 952 953 954 955 956 957 958 959 960 961 962 963 964 965 966 967 968 969 970 971 972 973 974 975 976 977 978 979 980 981 982 983 984 985 986 987 988 989 990 991 992 993 994 995 996 997 998 999 1000 1001 1002 1003 1004 1005 1006 1007 1008 1009