t of each."

Obedient Saran eyed the van,
The leaders marked, and thus began:
"That chief conspicuous at the head
Of warriors in the forest bred,
Who hither bends his ruthless eye
And shouts his fearful battle cry:
Whose voice with pealing thunder shakes
All Lanka, with the groves and lakes
And hills that tremble at the sound,
Is Nila, for his might renowned:
First of the Vanar lords controlled
By King Sugriva lofty-souled.
He who his mighty arm extends,
And his fierce eye on Lanka bends,
In stature like a stately tower,
In colour like a lotus flower,
Who with his wild earth-shaking cries
Thee, Ravan, to the field defies,
Is Angad, by Sugriva's care
Anointed his imperial heir:
In wondrous strength, in martial fire
Peer of King Bali's self, his sire;
For Rama's sake in arms arrayed
Like Varun called to Sakra's aid.
Behind him, girt by warlike bands,
Nala the mighty Vanar stands,
The son of Visvakarma, he
Who built the bridge athwart the sea.
Look farther yet, O King, and mark
That chieftain clothed in Sandal bark.
'Tis Sweta, famed among his peers,
A sage whom all his race reveres.
See, in Sugriva's ear he speaks,
Then, hasting back, his post reseeks,
And turns his practised eye to view
The squadrons he has formed anew.
Next Kumud stands who roamed of yore
On Gomati's(939) delightful shore,
Feared where the waving woods invest
His seat on Mount Sanrochan's crest.
Next him a chieftain strong and dread,
Comes Chanda at his legions' head;
Exulting in his warrior might
He hastens, burning for the fight,
And boasts that his unaided powers
Shall cast to earth thy walls and towers.
Mark, mark that chief of lion gait,
Who views thee with a glance of hate
As though his very eyes would burn
The city walls to which they turn:
'Tis Rambha, Vanar king; he dwells
In Krishnagiri's tangled dells,
Where Vindhya's pleasant slopes are spread
And fair Sudarsan lifts his head.
There, listening with erected ears,
Sarabha, mighty chief, appears.
His soul is burning for the strife,
Nor dreads the jeopardy of life.
He trembles as he moves, for ire,
And bends around his glance of fire.
Next, like a cloud that veils the skies,
A chieftain of terrific size,
Conspicuous mid the Vanars, comes
With battle shout like rolling drums,
'Tis Panas, trained in war and tried,
Who dwells on Pariyatra's side.
He, far away, the chief who throws
A glory o'er the marshalled rows
That ranged behind their captain stand
Exulting on