ese met and fought, with thousands more,
And trampled earth was red with gore.
Swift as the bolt which Indra sends
When fire from heaven the mountain rends
Smote Indrajit with furious blows
On Angad queller of his foes.
But Angad from his foeman tore
The murderous mace the warrior bore,
And low in dust his coursers rolled,
His driver, and his car of gold.
Struck by the shafts Prajangha sped,
The Vanar chief Sampati bled,
But, heedless of his gashes he
Crushed down the giant with a tree.
Then car-borne Jambumali smote
Hanuman on the chest and throat;
But at the car the Vanar rushed,
And chariot, steeds, and rider crushed.
Sugriva whirled a huge tree round,
And struck fierce Praghas to the ground.
One arrow shot from Lakshman's bow
Laid mighty Virupaksha low.
His giant foes round Rama pressed
And shot their shafts at head and breast;
But, when the iron shower was spent,
Four arrows from his bow he sent,
And every missile, deftly sped;
Cleft from the trunk a giant head.(951)

Canto XLIV. The Night.

The lord of Light had sunk and set:
Night came; the foeman struggled yet;
And fiercer for the gloom of night
Grew the wild fury of the fight.
Scarce could each warrior's eager eye
The foeman from the friend descry.
"Rakshas or Vanar? say;" cried each,
And foe knew foeman by his speech.
"Why wilt thou fly? O warrior, stay:
Turn on the foe, and rend and slay:"
Such were the cries, such words of fear
Smote through the gloom each listening ear.
Each swarthy rover of the night
Whose golden armour flashed with light,
Showed like a towering hill embraced
By burning woods about his waist.
The giants at the Vanars flew,
And ravening ate the foes they slew:
With mortal bite like serpent's fang,
The Vanars at the giants sprang,
And car and steeds and they who bore
The pennons fell bedewed with gore.
No serried band, no firm array
The fury of their charge could stay.
Down went the horse and rider, down
Went giant lords of high renown.
Though midnight's shade was dense and dark,
With skill that swerved not from the mark
Their bows the sons of Raghu drew,
And each keen shaft a chieftain slew.
Uprose the blinding dust from meads
Ploughed by the cars and trampling steeds,
And where the warriors fell the flood
Was dark and terrible with blood.
Six giants(952) singled Rama out,
And charged him with a furious shout
Loud as the roaring of the sea
When every wind is raging free.
Six times he shot: six heads w