to me and mine
In hopeless chains was doomed to pine.
With wicked thoughts, unsated still,
Me whom he wrongs he yearns to kill;
And spies of Vanar race, who tried
To slay me, by this hand have died.
Moved by this constant doubt and fear
I saw thee, Prince, and came not near.
When woe and peril gather round
A foe in every form is found.
Save Hanuman, O Raghu's son,
And these, no friend is left me, none.
Through their kind aid, a faithful band
Who guard their lord from hostile hand,
Rest when their chieftain rests and bend
Their steps where'er he lists to wend,--
Through them alone, in toil and pain,
My wretched life I still sustain.
Enough, for thou hast heard in brief
The story of my pain and grief.
His mighty strength all regions know,
My brother, but my deadly foe.
Ah, if the proud oppressor fell,
His death would all my woe dispel.
Yea, on my cruel conqueror's fall
My joy depends, my life, my all.
This were the end and sure relief,
O Rama, of my tale of grief.
Fair be his lot or dark with woe,
No comfort like a friend I know."

Then Rama spoke: "O friend, relate
Whence sprang fraternal strife and hate,
That duly taught by thee, I may
Each foeman's strength and weakness weigh:
And skilled in every chance restore
The blissful state thou hadst before.
For, when I think of all the scorn
And bitter woe thou long hast borne,
My soul indignant swells with pain
Like waters flushed with furious rain.
Then, ere I string this bended bow,
Tell me the tale I long to know,
Ere from the cord my arrow fly,
And low in death thy foeman lie."

He spoke: Sugriva joyed to hear,
Nor less his lords were glad of cheer:
And thus to Rama mighty-souled
The cause that moved their strife he told:

Canto IX. Sugriva's Story.(562)

"My brother, known by Bali's name,
Had won by might a conqueror's fame.
My father's eldest-born was he,
Well honoured by his sire and me.
My father died, and each sage lord
Named Bali king with one accord;
And he, by right of birth ordained,
The sovereign of the Vanars reigned.
He in his royal place controlled
The kingdom of our sires of old,
And I all faithful service lent
To aid my brother's government.
The fiend Mayavi,--him of yore
To Dundubhi(563) his mother bore,--
For woman's love in strife engaged,
A deadly war with Bali waged.
When sleep had chained each weary frame
To vast Kishkindha(564) gates he came,
And, shouting through the shades of night,
Challenged his foe