thy word to break?
A son of Raghu's line should scorn
To fail in faith, a man forsworn.
But if thy soul can bear the shame
I will return e'en as I came.
Live with thy sons, and joy be thine,
False scion of Kakutstha's line."

As Visvamitra, mighty sage,
Was moved with this tempestuous rage,
Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame,
And fear upon the Immortals came.
But Saint Vasishtha, wisest seer,
Observant of his vows austere,
Saw the whole world convulsed with dread,
And thus unto the monarch said:
"Thou, born of old Ikshvaku's seed,
Art Justice' self in mortal weed.
Constant and pious, blest by fate,
The right thou must not violate.
Thou, Raghu's son, so famous through
The triple world as just and true,
Perform thy bounden duty still,
Nor stain thy race by deed of ill.
If thou have sworn and now refuse
Thou must thy store of merit lose.
Then, Monarch, let thy Rama go,
Nor fear for him the demon foe.
The fiends shall have no power to hurt
Him trained to war or inexpert,
Nor vanquish him in battle field,
For Kusik's son the youth will shield.
He is incarnate Justice, he
The best of men for bravery.
Embodied love of penance drear,
Among the wise without a peer.
Full well he knows, great Kusik's son,
The arms celestial, every one,
Arms from the Gods themselves concealed,
Far less to other men revealed.
These arms to him, when earth he swayed,
Mighty Krisasva, pleased, conveyed.
Krisasva's sons they are indeed,
Brought forth by Daksha's lovely seed,(146)
Heralds of conquest, strong and bold,
Brilliant, of semblance manifold.
Jaya and Vijaya, most fair,
And hundred splendid weapons bare.
Of Jaya, glorious as the morn,
First fifty noble sons were born,
Boundless in size yet viewless too,
They came the demons to subdue.
And fifty children also came
Of Vijaya the beauteous dame,
Sanharas named, of mighty force,
Hard to assail or check in course.
Of these the hermit knows the use,
And weapons new can he produce.
All these the mighty saint will yield
To Rama's hand, to own and wield;
And armed with these, beyond a doubt
Shall Rama put those fiends to rout.
For Rama and the people's sake,
For thine own good my counsel take,
Nor seek, O King, with fond delay,
The parting of thy son to stay."

Canto XXIV. The Spells.

Vasishtha thus was speaking still:
The monarch, of his own free will,
Bade with quick zeal and joyful cheer
Rama and Lakshman hasten near.
Mother and sire in lovi