Canto XXXII. Rávan Roused.

But Śúrpaṇakhá saw the plain

Spread with the fourteen thousand slain,

Doers of cruel deeds o'erthrown

By Ráma's mighty arm alone,

Add Triśirás and Dúshaṇ dead,

And Khara, with the hosts they led.

Their death she saw, and mad with pain,

Roared like a cloud that brings the rain,

And fled in anger and dismay

To Lanká, seat of Rávaṇ's sway.

There on a throne of royal state

Exalted sat the potentate,

Begirt with counsellor and peer,

Like Indra with the Storm Gods near.

Bright as the sun's full splendour shone

The glorious throne he sat upon,

As when the blazing fire is red

Upon a golden altar fed.

Wide gaped his mouth at every breath,

Tremendous as the jaws of Death.

With him high saints of lofty thought,

Gandharvas, Gods, had vainly fought.

The wounds were on his body yet

From wars where Gods and demons met.

And scars still marked his ample chest

By fierce Airávat's[484] tusk impressed.

A score of arms, ten necks, had he,

His royal gear was brave to see.

His massive form displayed each sign

That marks the heir of kingly line.

In stature like a mountain height,

His arms were strong, his teeth were white,

And all his frame of massive mould

Seemed lazulite adorned with gold.

A hundred seams impressed each limp

Where Vishṇu's arm had wounded him,

And chest and shoulder bore the print

Of sword and spear and arrow dint,

Where every God had struck a blow

In battle with the giant foe.

His might to wildest rage could wake

The sea whose faith naught else can shake,

Hurl towering mountains to the earth,

And crush e'en foes of heavenly birth.

The bonds of law and right he spurned:

To others' wives his fancy turned.

Celestial arms he used in fight,

And loved to mar each holy rite.

He went to Bhogavatí's town,[485]

Where Vásuki was beaten down,

And stole, victorious in the strife,

Lord Takshaka's beloved wife.

Kailása's lofty crest he sought,

And when in vain Kuvera fought,

Stole Pushpak thence, the car that through

The air, as willed the master, flew.

Impelled by furious anger, he

Spoiled Nandan's[486] shade and Naliní,

And Chaitraratha's heavenly grove,

The haunts where Gods delight to rove.

Tall as a hill that cleaves the sky,

He raised his mighty arms on high

To check the blessed moon, and stay

The rising of the Lord of Day.

Ten thousand years the giant spent

On dire austerities intent,

And of his heads an offering, laid

Before the Self-existent, made.

No God or fiend his life could take,

Gandharva, goblin, bird, or snake:

Safe from all fears of death, except

From human arm, that life was kept.

Oft when the priests began to raise

Their consecrating hymns of praise,

He spoiled the Soma's sacred juice

Poured forth by them in solemn use.

The sacrifice his hands o'erthrew,

And cruelly the Bráhmans slew.

His was a heart that naught could melt,

Joying in woes which others felt.

She saw the ruthless monster there,

Dread of the worlds, unused to spare.

In robes of heavenly texture dressed,

Celestial wreaths adorned his breast.

He sat a shape of terror, like

Destruction ere the worlds it strike.

She saw him in his pride of place,

The joy of old Pulastya's[487] race,

Begirt by counsellor and peer,

Rávaṇ, the foeman's mortal fear,

And terror in her features shown,

The giantess approached the throne.

Then Śúrpaṇakhá bearing yet

Each deeply printed trace

Where the great-hearted chief had set

A mark upon her face,

Impelled by terror and desire,

Still fierce, no longer bold,

To Rávaṇ of the eyes of fire

Her tale, infuriate, told.