place.
Then when the mighty saints had paid
Due honour for the victor's aid,
The glorious Rama honoured too
By Lakshman to his cot withdrew.
When Sita looked upon her lord,
His foemen slain, the saints restored,
In pride and rapture uncontrolled
She clasped him in her loving hold.
On the dead fiends her glances fell:
She saw her lord alive and well,
Victorious after toil and pain,
And Janak's child was blest again.
Once more, once more with new delight
Her tender arms she threw
Round Rama whose victorious might
Had crushed the demon crew.
Then as his grateful reverence paid
Each saint of lofty soul,
O'er her sweet face, all fears allayed,
The flush of transport stole.

Canto XXXI. Ravan.

But of the host of giants one,
Akampan, from the field had run
And sped to Lanka(480) to relate
In Ravan's ear the demons' fate:

"King, many a giant from the shade
Of Janasthan in death is laid:
Khara the chief is slain, and I
Could scarcely from the battle fly."

Fierce anger, as the monarch heard,
Inflamed his look, his bosom stirred,
And while with scorching glance he eyed
The messenger, he thus replied:

"What fool has dared, already dead,
Strike Janasthan, the general dread?
Who is the wretch shall vainly try
In earth, heaven, hell, from me to fly?
Vaisravan,(481) Indra, Vishnu, He
Who rules the dead, must reverence me;
For not the mightiest lord of these
Can brave my will and live at ease.
Fate finds in me a mightier fate
To burn the fires that devastate.
With unresisted influence I
Can force e'en Death himself to die,
With all-surpassing might restrain
The fury of the hurricane,
And burn in my tremendous ire
The glory of the sun and fire."

As thus the fiend's hot fury blazed,
His trembling hands Akampan raised,
And with a voice which fear made weak,
Permission craved his tale to speak.
King Ravan gave the leave he sought,
And bade him tell the news he brought.
His courage rose, his voice grew bold,
And thus his mournful tale he told:

"A prince with mighty shoulders, sprung
From Dasaratha, brave and young,
With arms well moulded, bears the name
Of Rama with a lion's frame.
Renowned, successful, dark of limb,
Earth has no warrior equals him.
He fought in Janasthan and slew
Dushan the fierce and Khara too."

Ravan the giants' royal chief.
Received Akampan's tale of grief.
Then, panting like an angry snake,
These words in turn the monarch spake:

"Say quick,