Mahakapala"s monstrous head Fell with the trenchant dart he sped.
His good right hand in battle skilled Sthulaksha"s eyes with arrows filled, And trusting still his ready bow He laid the fierce Pramathi low, Who sank as some tall tree falls down With bough and branch and leafy crown.
Then with five thousand shafts he slew The rest of Dusha?"s giant crew: Five thousand demons, torn and rent, To Yama"s gloomy realm he sent.
When Khara knew the fate of all The giant band and Dusha?"s fall, He called the mighty chiefs who led His army, and in fury said:
"Now Dusha? and his armed train Lie prostrate on the battle plain.
Lead forth an army mightier still, Rama this wretched man, to kill.
Fight ye with darts of every shape, Nor let him from your wrath escape."
Thus spoke the fiend, by rage impelled, And straight his course toward Rama held.
With Syenagami and the rest Of his twelve chiefs he onward pressed, And every giant as he went A storm of well-wrought arrows sent.
Then with his pointed shafts that came With gold and diamond bright as flame, Dead to the earth the hero threw The remnant of the demon crew.
Those shafts with feathers bright as gold, Like flames which wreaths of smoke enfold, Smote down the fiends like tall trees rent By red bolts from the firmament.
A hundred shafts he pointed well: By their keen barbs a hundred fell: A thousand,-and a thousand more In battle"s front lay drenched in gore.
Of all defence and guard bereft, With sundered bows and harness cleft.
Their bodies red with b.l.o.o.d.y stain Fell the night-rovers on the plain, Which, covered with the loosened hair Of bleeding giants prostrate there, Like some great altar showed, arrayed For holy rites with gra.s.s o"erlaid.
The darksome wood, each glade and dell Where the wild demons fought and fell Was like an awful h.e.l.l whose floor Is thick with mire and flesh and gore.
Thus twice seven thousand fiends, a band With impious heart and b.l.o.o.d.y hand, By Raghu"s son were overthrown, A man, on foot, and all alone.
Of all who met on that fierce day, Khara, great chief, survived the fray, The monster of the triple head,(470) And Raghu"s son, the foeman"s dread.
The other demon warriors, all Skilful and brave and strong and tall, In front of battle, side by side, Struck down by Lakshma?"s brother died.
When Khara saw the host he led Triumphant forth to fight Stretched on the earth, all smitten dead, By Rama"s n.o.bler might, Upon his foe he fiercely glared, And drove against him fast, Like Indra when his arm is bared His thundering bolt to cast.
Canto XXVII. The Death Of Trisiras.
But Trisiras,(471) a chieftain dread, Marked Khara as he onward sped.
And met his car and cried, to stay The giant from the purposed fray: "Mine be the charge: let me attack, And turn thee from the contest back.
Let me go forth, and thou shalt see The strong-armed Rama slain by me.
True are the words I speak, my lord: I swear it as I touch my sword: That I this Rama"s blood will spill, Whom every giant"s hand should kill.
This Rama will I slay, or he In battle fray shall conquer me.
Restrain thy spirit: check thy car, And view the combat from afar.
Thou, joying o"er the prostrate foe, To Janasthan again shalt go, Or, if I fall in battle"s chance, Against my conqueror advance."
Thus Trisiras for death who yearned: And Khara from the conflict turned, "Go forth to battle," Khara cried; And toward his foe the giant hied.
Borne on a car of glittering hue Which harnessed coursers fleetly drew, Like some huge hill with triple peak He onward rushed the prince to seek.
Still, like a big cloud, sending out His arrowy rain with many a shout Like the deep sullen roars that come Discordant from a moistened drum.
But Raghu"s son, whose watchful eye Beheld the demon rushing nigh, From the great bow he raised and bent A shower of shafts to meet him sent.
Wild grew the fight and wilder yet As fiend and man in combat met, As when in some dark wood"s retreat An elephant and a lion meet.
The giant bent his bow, and true To Rama"s brow three arrows flew.
Then, raging as he felt the stroke, These words in anger Rama spoke: "Heroic chief! is such the power Of fiends who rove at midnight hour?
Soft as the touch of flowers I feel The gentle blows thine arrows deal.
Receive in turn my shafts, and know What arrows fly from Rama"s bow."
Thus as he spoke his wrath grew hot, And twice seven deadly shafts he shot, Which, dire as serpent"s deadly fang, Straight to the giant"s bosom sprang.
Four arrows more,-each shaped to deal A mortal wound with barbed steel,- The glorious hero shot, and slew The four good steeds the car that drew.
Eight other shafts flew straight and fleet, And hurled the driver from his seat, And in the dust the banner laid That proudly o"er the chariot played.
Then as the fiend prepared to bound Forth from his useless car to ground, The hero smote him to the heart, And numbed his arm with deadly smart.
Again the chieftain, peerless-souled, Sent forth three rapid darts, and rolled With each keen arrow, deftly sped, Low in the dust a monstrous head.
Then yielding to each deadly stroke, Forth spouting streams of blood and smoke, The headless trunk bedrenched with gore Fell to the ground and moved no more.
The fiends who yet were left with life, Routed and crushed in battle strife, To Khara"s side, like trembling deer Scared by the hunter, fled in fear.
King Khara saw with furious eye His scattered giants turn and fly; Then rallying his broken train At Raghu"s son he drove amain, Like Rahu(472) when his deadly might Comes rushing on the Lord of Night.
Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.
But when he turned his eye where bled Both Trisiras and Dusha? dead, Fear o"er the giant"s spirit came Of Rama"s might which naught could tame.
He saw his savage legions, those Whose force no creature dared oppose,- He saw the leader of his train By Rama"s single prowess slain.
With burning grief he marked the few Still left him of his giant crew.
As Namuchi(473) on Indra, so Rushed the dread demon on his foe.
His mighty bow the monster strained, And angrily on Rama rained His mortal arrows in a flood, Like serpent fangs athirst for blood.
Skilled in the bowman"s warlike art, He plied the string and poised the dart.
Here, on his car, and there, he rode, And pa.s.sages of battle showed, While all the skyey regions grew Dark with his arrows as they flew.
Then Rama seized his ponderous bow, And straight the heaven was all aglow With shafts whose stroke no life might bear That filled with flash and flame the air, Thick as the blinding torrents sent Down from Parjanya"s(474) firmament.
In s.p.a.ce itself no s.p.a.ce remained, But all was filled with arrows rained Incessantly from each great bow Wielded by Rama and his foe.
As thus in furious combat, wrought To mortal hate, the warriors fought, The sun himself grew faint and pale, Obscured behind that arrowy veil.
As when beneath the driver"s steel An elephant is forced to kneel, So from the hard and pointed head Of many an arrow Rama bled.
High on his car the giant rose Prepared in deadly strife to close, And all the spirits saw him stand Like Yama with his noose in hand.
For Khara deemed in senseless pride That he, beneath whose hand had died The giant legions, failed at length Slow sinking with exhausted strength.
But Rama, like a lion, when A trembling deer comes nigh his den, Feared not the demon mad with hate,- Of lion might and lion gait.
Then in his lofty car that glowed With sunlike brilliance Khara rode At Rama: madly on he came Like a poor moth that seeks the flame.
His archer skill the fiend displayed, And at the place where Rama laid His hand, an arrow cleft in two The mighty bow the hero drew.
Seven arrows by the giant sent, Bright as the bolts of Indra, rent Their way through mail and harness joints, And pierced him with their iron points.
On Rama, hero unsurpa.s.sed, A thousand shafts smote thick and fast, While as each missile struck, rang out The giant"s awful battle-shout.
His knotted arrows pierced and tore The sunbright mail the hero wore, Till, band and buckle rent away, Glittering on the ground it lay.
Then pierced in shoulder, breast, and side, Till every limb with blood was dyed, The chieftain in majestic ire Shone glorious as the smokeless fire.
Then loud and long the war-cry rose Of Rama, terror of his foes, As, on the giant"s death intent, A ponderous bow he strung and bent,- Lord Vish?u"s own, of wondrous size,- Agastya gave the heavenly prize.
Then rushing on the demon foe, He raised on high that mighty bow, And with his well-wrought shafts, whereon Bright gold between the feathers shone, He struck the pennon fluttering o"er The chariot, and it waved no more.
That glorious flag whose every fold Was rich with blazonry and gold, Fell as the sun himself by all The G.o.ds" decree might earthward fall.
From wrathful Khara"s hand, whose art Well knew each vulnerable part, Four keenly-piercing arrows flew, And blood in Rama"s bosom drew, With every limb distained with gore From deadly shafts which rent and tore, From Khara"s clanging bowstring shots, The prince"s wrath waxed wondrous hot.
His hand upon his bow that best Of mighty archers firmly pressed, And from the well-drawn bowstring, true Each to its mark, six arrows flew.
One quivered in the giant"s head, With two his brawny shoulders bled; Three, with the crescent heads they bore, Deep in his breast a pa.s.sage tore.
Thirteen, to which the stone had lent The keenest point, were swiftly sent On the fierce giant, every one Destructive, gleaming like the sun.
With four the dappled steeds he slew; One cleft the chariot yoke in two, One, in the heat of battle sped, Smote from the neck the driver"s head.
The poles were rent apart by three; Two broke the splintered axle-tree.
Then from the hand of Rama, while Across his lips there came a smile, The twelfth, like thunderbolt impelled, Cut the great hand and bow it held.
Then, scarce by Indra"s self surpa.s.sed, He pierced the giant with the last.
The bow he trusted cleft in twain, His driver and his horses slain, Down sprang the giant, mace in hand, On foot against the foe to stand.
The G.o.ds and saints in bright array Close gathered in the skies, The prince"s might in battle-fray Beheld with joyful eyes.
Uprising from their golden seats, Their hands in honour raised, They looked on Rama"s n.o.ble feats, And blessed him as they praised.