o XXXII. Visvamitra's Sacrifice.

That conquering pair, of royal race,
Skilled to observe due time and place,
To Kusik's hermit son addressed,
In timely words, their meet request:
"When must we, lord, we pray thee tell,
Those Rovers of the Night repel?
Speak, lest we let the moment fly,
And pass the due occasion by."
Thus longing for the strife, they prayed,
And thus the hermits answer made:
"Till the fifth day be come and past,
O Raghu's sons, your watch must last.
The saint his Diksha(170) has begun,
And all that time will speak to none."
Soon as the steadfast devotees
Had made reply in words like these,
The youths began, disdaining sleep,
Six days and nights their watch to keep.
The warrior pair who tamed the foe,
Unrivalled benders of the bow,
Kept watch and ward unwearied still
To guard the saint from scathe and ill.
'Twas now the sixth returning day,
The hour foretold had past away.
Then Rama cried: "O Lakshman, now
Firm, watchful, resolute be thou.
The fiends as yet have kept afar
From the pure grove in which we are:
Yet waits us, ere the day shall close,
Dire battle with the demon foes."

While thus spoke Rama borne away
By longing for the deadly fray,
See! bursting from the altar came
The sudden glory of the flame.
Round priest and deacon, and upon
Grass, ladles, flowers, the splendour shone,
And the high rite, in order due,
With sacred texts began anew.
But then a loud and fearful roar
Re-echoed through the sky;
And like vast clouds that shadow o'er
The heavens in dark July,
Involved in gloom of magic might
Two fiends rushed on amain,
Maricha, Rover of the Night,
Suvahu, and their train.
As on they came in wild career
Thick blood in rain they shed;
And Rama saw those things of fear
Impending overhead.
Then soon as those accursed two
Who showered down blood be spied,
Thus to his brother brave and true
Spoke Rama lotus-eyed:
"Now, Lakshman, thou these fiends shalt see,
Man-eaters, foul of mind,
Before my mortal weapon flee
Like clouds before the wind."
He spoke. An arrow, swift as thought,
Upon his bow he pressed,
And smote, to utmost fury wrought,
Maricha on the breast.
Deep in his flesh the weapon lay
Winged by the mystic spell,
And, hurled a hundred leagues away,
In ocean's flood he fell.
Then Rama, when he saw the foe
Convulsed and mad with pain
Neath the chill-pointed weapon's blow,
To Lakshman spoke again:
"See, Lakshman, see! this m