necessary for Rama to seek allies before attempting to cross the straits and attack the stronghold.  He therefore renders an important service to the monkey king Sugriva, who gratefully leads an army of monkeys to his assistance.  The most valiant of these, Hanumat, succeeds in entering Ravana’s capital, where he finds Sita, gives her a token from Rama, and receives a token for Rama.  The army thereupon sets out and comes to the seashore, where it is reinforced by the giant Vibhishana, who has deserted his wicked brother Ravana.  The monkeys hurl great boulders into the strait, thus forming a bridge over which they cross into Ceylon and besiege Ravana’s capital.  There ensue many battles between the giants and the monkeys, culminating in a tremendous duel between the champions, Rama and Ravana.  In this duel Ravana is finally slain.  Rama recovers his wife, and the principal personages of the army enter the flying chariot which had belonged to Ravana, to return to Ayodhya; for the fourteen years of exile are now over.

Thirteenth canto.  The return from the forest.—­This canto describes the long journey through the air from Ceylon over the whole length of India to Ayodhya.  As the celestial car makes its journey, Rama points out the objects of interest or of memory to Sita.  Thus, as they fly over the sea: 

  The form of ocean, infinitely changing,
    Clasping the world and all its gorgeous state,
  Unfathomed by the intellect’s wide ranging,
    Is awful like the form of God, and great.

  He gives his billowy lips to many a river
    That into his embrace with passion slips,
  Lover of many wives, a generous giver
    Of kisses, yet demanding eager lips.

  Look back, my darling, with your fawn-like glances
    Upon the path that from your prison leads;
  See how the sight of land again entrances,
    How fair the forest, as the sea recedes.

Then, as they pass over the spot where Rama searched for his stolen wife: 

  There is the spot where, sorrowfully searching,
    I found an anklet on the ground one day;
  It could not tinkle, for it was not perching
    On your dear foot, but sad and silent lay.

  I learned where you were carried by the giant
    From vines that showed themselves compassionate;
  They could not utter words, yet with their pliant
    Branches they pointed where you passed of late.

  The deer were kind; for while the juicy grasses
    Fell quite unheeded from each careless mouth,
  They turned wide eyes that said, “’Tis there she passes
    The hours as weary captive” toward the south.

  There is the mountain where the peacocks’ screaming,
    And branches smitten fragrant by the rain,
  And madder-flowers that woke at last from dreaming,
    Made unendurable my lonely pain;

  And mountain-caves where I could scarce dissemble
    The woe I felt when thunder crashed anew,
  For I remembered how you used to tremble
    At thunder, seeking arms that longed for you.