Rama and Lakshman paced behind
    That hermit of the lofty mind,
    As the young Asvins, heavenly pair,
    Follow Lord Indra through the air. 
    On arm and hand the guard they wore,
    Quiver and bow and sword they bore;
    Two fire-born Gods of War seemed they,
    He, Siva’s self who led the way. 
    Upon fair Sarju’s southern shore
    They now had walked a league or more,
    When thus the sage in accents mild
    To Rama said:  “Beloved child,
    This lustral water duly touch: 
    My counsel will avail thee much. 
    Forget not all the words I say,
    Nor let the occasion slip away. 
    Lo, with two spells I thee invest,
    The mighty and the mightiest. 
    O’er thee fatigue shall ne’er prevail,
    Nor age nor change thy limbs assail. 
    Thee powers of darkness ne’er shall smite
    In tranquil sleep or wild delight. 
    No one is there in all the land
    Thine equal for the vigorous hand. 
    Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell,
    Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell. 
    None in the world with thee shall vie,
    O sinless one, in apt reply—­
    In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact,
    Wisdom to plan and skill to act. 
    This double science take, and gain
    Glory that shall for aye remain. 
    Wisdom and judgment spring from each
    Of these fair spells whose use I teach. 
    Hunger and thirst unknown to thee,
    High in the worlds thy rank shall be. 
    For these two spells with might endued,
    Are the Great Father’s heavenly brood,
    And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace,
    Thou glory of Kakutstha’s race. 
    Virtues which none can match are thine,
    Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine—­
    And now these spells of might shall cast
    Fresh radiance o’er the gifts thou hast.” 
    Then Rama duly touched the wave,
    Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head,
    And took the spells the hermit gave,
    Whose soul on contemplation fed. 
    From him whose might these gifts enhanced
    A brighter beam of glory glanced:—­
    So shines in all his autumn blaze
    The Day-God of the thousand rays. 
    The hermit’s wants those youths supplied,
    As pupils used to holy guide. 
    And then the night in sweet content
    On Sarju’s pleasant bank they spent.

CANTO XXV

THE HERMITAGE OF LOVE

    Soon as appeared the morning light
    Up rose the mighty anchorite,
    And thus to youthful Rama said,
    Who lay upon his leafy bed:—­
    “High fate is hers who calls thee son: 
    Arise, ’tis break of day;
    Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done
    Due at the morning’s ray.” 
    At that great sage’s high behest
    Up sprang the princely pair,