cloth around his waist.
Then round his head his staff he whirled,
And forth with mightiest effort hurled.
Cast from his hand it flew, and sank
To earth on Sarju's farther bank,
Where herds of kine in thousands fed
Near to the well-stocked bullock shed.
And all the cows that wandered o'er
The meadow, far as Sarju's shore,
At Rama's word the herdsmen drove
To Trijat's cottage in the grove.
He drew the Brahman to his breast,
And thus with calming words addressed:
"Now be not angry, Sire. I pray:
This jest of mine was meant in play.
These thousand kine, but not alone.
Their herdsmen too, are all thine own.
And wealth beside I give thee: speak,
Thine shall be all thy heart can seek."

Thus Rama spake. And Trijat prayed
For means his sacrifice to aid.
And Rama gave much wealth, required
To speed his offering as desired.

Canto XXXIII. The People's Lament.

Thus Sita and the princes brave
Much wealth to all the Brahmans gave.
Then to the monarch's house the three
Went forth the aged king to see.
The princes from two servants took
Those heavenly arms of glorious look,
Adorned with garland and with band
By Sita's beautifying hand.
On each high house a mournful throng
Had gathered ere they passed along,
Who gazed in pure unselfish woe
From turret, roof, and portico.
So dense the crowd that blocked the ways,
The rest, unable there to gaze,
Were fain each terrace to ascend,
And thence their eyes on Rama bend.
Then as the gathered multitude
On foot their well-loved Rama viewed,
No royal shade to screen his head,
Such words, disturbed in grief, they said:
"O look, our hero, wont to ride
Leading a host in perfect pride--
Now Lakshman, sole of all his friends,
With Sita on his steps attends.
Though he has known the sweets of power,
And poured his gifts in liberal shower,
From duty's path he will not swerve,
But, still his father's truth preserve.
And she whose form so soft and fair
Was veiled from spirits of the air,
Now walks unsheltered from the day,
Seen by the crowds who throng the way.
Ah, for that gently-nurtured form!
How will it fade with sun and storm!
How will the rain, the cold, the heat
Mar fragrant breast and tinted feet!
Surely some demon has possessed
His sire, and speaks within his breast,
Or how could one that is a king
Thus send his dear son wandering?
It were a deed unkindly done
To banish e'en a worthless son:
But what, when his pure life has gained
The hearts of all, by l