checked
    Who rained her stones around. 
    She, sore impeded and beset
    By Rama and his arrowy net—­
    Though skilled in guile and magic lore,
    Rushed on the brothers with a roar. 
    Deformed, terrific, murderous, dread,
    Swift as the levin on she sped—­
    Like cloudy pile in autumn’s sky,
    Lifting her two vast arms on high: 
    When Rama smote her with a dart
    Shaped like a crescent, to the heart. 
    Sore wounded by the shaft that came
    With lightning speed and surest aim,
    Blood spurting from her mouth and side,
    She fell upon the earth and died. 
    Soon as the Lord who rules the sky
    Saw the dread monster lifeless lie,
    He called aloud, Well done! well done! 
    And the Gods honored Raghu’s son. 
    Standing in heaven the Thousand-eyed,
    With all the Immortals, joying cried:—­
    “Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and see
    The Gods and Indra nigh to thee. 
    This deed of Rama’s boundless might
    Has filled our bosoms with delight. 
    Now, for our will would have it so,
    To Raghu’s son some favor show. 
    Invest him with the power which nought
    But penance gains, and holy thought. 
    Those heavenly arms on him bestow—­
    To thee entrusted long ago
    By great Krisasva best of kings,
    Son of the Lord of living things. 
    More fit recipient none can be
    Than he who joys in following thee;
    And for our sakes the monarch’s seed
    Has yet to do a mighty deed.”

    He spoke; and all the heavenly train
    Rejoicing sought their homes again,
    While honor to the saint they paid—­
    Then came the evening’s twilight shade. 
    The best of hermits overjoyed
    To know the monstrous fiend destroyed,
    His lips on Rama’s forehead pressed,
    And thus the conquering chief addressed:—­
    “O Rama, gracious to the sight,
    Here will we pass the present night,
    And with the morrow’s earliest ray
    Bend to my hermitage our way.” 
    The son of Dasaratha heard,
    Delighted, Visvamitra’s word—­
    And as he bade, that night he spent
    In Tadaka’s wild wood, content. 
    And the grove shone that happy day,
    Freed from the curse that on it lay—­
    Like Chaitraratha fair and gay.

CANTO XXIX

THE CELESTIAL ARMS

    That night they slept and took their rest;
    And then the mighty saint addressed,
    With pleasant smile and accents mild
    These words to Raghu’s princely child:—­
    “Well pleased am I. High fate be thine,
    Thou scion of a royal line. 
    Now will I, for I love thee so,
    All heavenly arms on thee bestow. 
    Victor with these, whoe’er oppose,
    Thy hand shall conquer all thy foes—­