To highest pitch of frenzy wrought
With fists like thunderbolts they fought,
While near them Rama took his stand,
And viewed the battle, bow in hand.
Alike they stood in form and might,
Like heavenly Asvins(576) paired in fight,
Nor might the son of Raghu know
Where fought the friend and where the foe;
So, while his bow was ready bent,
No life-destroying shaft he sent.
Crushed down by Bali's mightier stroke
Sugriva's force now sank and broke,
Who, hoping naught from Rama's aid,
To Rishyamuka fled dismayed,
Weary, and faint, and wounded sore,
His body bruised and dyed with gore,
From Bali's blows, in rage and dread,
Afar to sheltering woods he fled.

Nor Bali farther dared pursue,
The curbing curse too well he knew.
"Fled from thy death!" the victor cried,
And home the mighty warrior hied.
Hanuman, Lakshman, Raghu's son
Beheld the conquered Vanar run,
And followed to the sheltering shade
Where yet Sugriva stood dismayed.
Near and more near the chieftains came,
Then, for intolerable shame,
Not daring yet to lift his eyes,
Sugriva spoke with burning sighs:
"Thy matchless strength I first beheld,
And dared my foe, by thee impelled.
Why hast thou tried me with deceit
And urged me to a sure defeat?
Thou shouldst have said, "I will not slay
Thy foeman in the coming fray."
For had I then thy purpose known
I had not waged the fight alone."

The Vanar sovereign, lofty-souled,
In plaintive voice his sorrows told.
Then Rama spake: "Sugriva, list,
All anger from thy heart dismissed,
And I will tell the cause that stayed
Mine arrow, and withheld the aid.
In dress, adornment, port, and height,
In splendour, battle-shout, and might,
No shade of difference could I see
Between thy foe, O King, and thee.
So like was each, I stood at gaze,
My senses lost in wildering maze,
Nor loosened from my straining bow
A deadly arrow at the foe,
Lest in my doubt the shaft should send
To sudden death our surest friend.
O, if this hand in heedless guilt
And rash resolve thy blood had spilt,
Through every land, O Vanar King,
My wild and foolish act would ring.
Sore weight of sin on him must lie
By whom a friend is made to die;
And Lakshman, I, and Sita, best
Of dames, on thy protection rest.
On, warrior! for the fight prepare;
Nor fear again thy foe to dare.
Within one hour thine eye shall view
My arrow strike thy foeman through;
Shall see the stricken Bali lie
Low on the earth, and gasp and die.
But come, a badge a