This Tadaka who joys in ill—­
    For such my sire’s, and such thy will. 
    To aid with mine avenging hand
    The Brahmans, kine, and all the land,
    Obedient, heart and soul, I stand.” 
    Thus spoke the tamer of the foe,
    And by the middle grasped his bow. 
    Strongly he drew the sounding string
    That made the distant welkin ring. 
    Scared by the mighty clang the deer
    That roamed the forest shook with fear. 
    And Tadaka the echo heard,
    And rose in haste from slumber stirred. 
    In wild amaze, her soul aflame
    With fury towards the spot she came. 
    When that foul shape of evil mien
    And stature vast as e’er was seen
    The wrathful son of Raghu eyed,
    He thus unto his brother cried:—­
    “Her dreadful shape, O Lakshman, see,
    A form to shudder at and flee. 
    The hideous monster’s very view
    Would cleave a timid heart in two. 
    Behold the demon hard to smite,
    Defended by her magic might. 
    My hand shall stay her course to-day,
    And shear her nose and ears away. 
    No heart have I her life to take: 
    I spare it for her sex’s sake. 
    My will is but—­with minished force—­
    To check her in her evil course.” 
    While thus he spoke, by rage impelled—­
    Roaring as she came nigh,
    The fiend her course at Rama held
    With huge arms tossed on high. 
    Her, rushing on, the seer assailed
    With a loud cry of hate;
    And thus the sons of Raghu hailed:—­
    “Fight, and be fortunate.” 
    Then from the earth a horrid cloud
    Of dust the demon raised,
    And for awhile in darkling shroud
    Wrapt Raghu’s sons amazed. 
    Then calling on her magic power
    The fearful fight to wage,
    She smote him with a stony shower,
    Till Rama burned with rage. 
    Then pouring forth his arrowy rain
    That stony flood to stay,
    With winged darts, as she charged amain,
    He shore her hands away. 
    As Tadaka still thundered near
    Thus maimed by Rama’s blows,
    Lakshman in fury severed sheer
    The monster’s ears and nose. 
    Assuming by her magic skill
    A fresh and fresh disguise,
    She tried a thousand shapes at will,
    Then vanished from their eyes. 
    When Gadhi’s son of high renown
    Still saw the stony rain pour down
    Upon each princely warrior’s head,
    With words of wisdom thus he said:—­
    “Enough of mercy, Rama, lest
    This sinful evil-working pest,
    Disturber of each holy rite,
    Repair by magic arts her might. 
    Without delay the fiend should die,
    For, see, the twilight hour is nigh. 
    And at the joints of night and day
    Such giant foes are hard to slay.” 
    Then Rama, skilful to direct
    His arrow to the sound—­
    With shafts the mighty demon