Author: Valmiki
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of hue,

And Lanká, seat of Rávaṇ's sway,

Before the wondering Vánar lay:

With stately domes and turrets tall,

Encircled by a golden wall,

And moats whose waters were aglow

With lily blossoms bright below:

For Sítá's sake defended well

With bolt and bar and sentinel,

And Rákshases who roamed in bands

With ready bows in eager hands.

He saw the stately mansions rise

Like pale-hued clouds in autumn skies;

Where noble streets were broad and bright,

And banners waved on every height.

Her gates were glorious to behold

Rich with the shine of burnished gold:

A lovely city planned and decked

By heaven's creative architect,804

Fairest of earthly cities meet

To be the Gods' celestial seat.

The Vánar by the northern gate

Thus in his heart began debate

“Our mightiest host would strive in vain

To take this city on the main:

A city that may well defy

The chosen warriors of the sky;

A city never to be won

E'en by the arm of Raghu's son.

Here is no hope by guile to win

The hostile hearts of those within.

'Twere vain to war, or bribe, or sow

Dissension mid the Vánar foe.

But now my search must I pursue

Until the Maithil queen I view:

And, when I find the captive dame,

Make victory mine only aim.

But, if I wear my present shape,

How shall I enter and escape

The Rákshas troops, their guards and spies,

And sleepless watch of cruel eyes?

The fiends of giant race who hold

This mighty town are strong and bold;

And I must labour to elude

The fiercely watchful multitude.

I in a shape to mock their sight

Must steal within the town by night,

Blind with my art the demons' eyes,

And thus achieve my enterprise.

How may I see, myself unseen

Of the fierce king, the captive queen,

And meet her in some lonely place,

With none beside her, face to face?”

When the bright sun had left the skies

The Vánar dwarfed his mighty size, [pg 398]

And, in the straitest bounds restrained,

The bigness of a cat retained.805

Then, when the moon's soft light was spread,

Within the city's walls he sped.

Canto III. The Guardian Goddess.

There from the circling rampart's height

He gazed upon the wondrous sight;

Broad gates with burnished gold displayed,

And courts with turkises inlaid;

With gleaming silver, gems, and rows

Of crystal stairs and porticoes.

In semblance of a Rákshas dame

The city's guardian Goddess came,—

For she with glances sure and keen

The entrance of a foe had seen,—

And thus with fury in her eye

Addressed him with an angry cry:

“Who art thou? what has led thee, say,

Within these walls to find thy way?

Thou mayst not enter here in spite

Of Rávaṇ and his warriors' might.”

“And who art thou?” the Vánar cried,

By form and frown unterrified,

“Why hast thou met me by the gate,

And chid me thus infuriate?”

He ceased: and Lanká made reply:

“The guardian of the town am I,

Who watch for ever to fulfil

My lord the Rákshas monarch's will.

But thou shalt fall this hour, and deep

Shall be thy never-ending sleep.”

Again he spake: “In spite of thee

This golden city will I see.

Her gates and towers, and all the pride

Of street and square from side to side,

And freely wander where I please

Amid her groves of flowering trees;

On all her beauties sate mine eye.

Then, as I came, will homeward hie.”

Swift with an angry roar she smote

With her huge hand the Vánar's throat.

The smitten Vánar, rage-impelled,

With fist upraised the monster felled:

But quick repented, stirred with shame

And pity for a vanquished dame,

When with her senses troubled, weak

With terror, thus she strove to speak:

“O spare me thou whose arm is strong:

O spare me, and forgive the wrong.

The brave that law will ne'er transgress

That spares a woman's helplessness.

Hear, best of Vánars, brave and bold,

What Brahmá's self of yore foretold;

“Beware,” he said, “the fatal hour

When thou shalt own a Vánar's power.

Then is the giants' day of fear,

For terror and defeat are near.”

Now, Vánar chief, o'ercome by thee,

I own the truth of heaven's decree.

For Sítá's sake will ruin fall

On Rávaṇ, and his town, and all.”

Canto IV. Within The City.

The guardian goddess thus subdued,

The Vánar chief his way pursued,

And reached the broad imperial street

Where fresh-blown flowers were bright and sweet.

The city seemed a fairer sky

Where cloud-like houses rose on high,

Whence the soft sound of tabors came

Through many a latticed window frame,

And ever and anon rang out

The merry laugh and joyous shout.

From house to house the Vánar went

And marked each varied ornament,

Where leaves and blossoms deftly strung

About the crystal columns hung.

Then soft and full and sweet and clear

The song of women charmed his ear,

And, blending with their dulcet tones,

Their anklets' chime and tinkling zones.

He heard the Rákshas minstrel sing

The praises of their matchless king;

And softly through the evening air

Came murmurings of text and prayer.

Here moved a priest with tonsured head,

And there an eager envoy sped,

Mid crowds with hair in matted twine

Clothed in the skins of deer and kine,—

Whose only arms, which none might blame,

Were blades of grass and holy flame806

There savage warriors roamed in bands

With clubs and maces in their hands,

Some dwarfish forms, some huge of size,

With single ears and single eyes.

Some shone in glittering mail arrayed

With bow and mace and flashing blade;

Fiends of all shapes and every hue,

Some fierce and foul, some fair to view. [pg 399]

He saw the grisly legions wait

In strictest watch at Rávaṇ's gate,

Whose palace on the mountain crest

Rose proudly towering o'er the rest,

Fenced with high ramparts from the foe,

And lotus-covered moats below.

But Hanumán, unhindered, found

Quick passage through the guarded bound,

Mid elephants of noblest breed,

And gilded car and neighing steed.

[I omit Canto V. which corresponds to chapter XI. in Gorresio's edition. That scholar justly observes: “The eleventh chapter, Description of Evening, is certainly the work of the Rhapsodists and an interpolation of later date. The chapter might be omitted without any injury to the action of the poem, and besides the metre, style, conceits and images differ from the general tenour of the poem; and that continual repetition of the same sounds at the end of each hemistich which is not exactly rime, but assonance, reveals the artificial labour of a more recent age.” The following sample will probably be enough.

Fair shone the moon, as if to lend

His cheering light to guide a friend,

And, circled by the starry host,

Looked down upon the wild sea-coast.

The Vánar cheiftain raised his eyes,

And saw him sailing through the skies

Like a bright swan who joys to take

His pastime on a silver lake;

Fair moon that calms the mourner's pain.

Heaves up the waters of the main,

And o'er the life beneath him throws

A tender light of soft repose,