And boast that he has fought with me.
Command, O King, and this right hand
Shall sweep the Vánars from the land,
And hill and dale, to Ocean's shore,
Shall know the death-doomed race no more.
But let my care the means devise
To guard thy city from surprise.”
Then Durmukh cried, of Rákshas race:
“Too long we brook the dire disgrace.
He gave our city to the flames,