258 THE RÁMÁYAN. Book III.
His lords with loud unearthly cry Followed their chief and gathered nigh. As in his car the leader rode With all his lords around, he showed Like the red planet fiery Mars Surrounded by the lesser stars. Then with a horrid yell that rent The air, the giant chieftain sent A thousand darts in rapid shower On Ráma matchless in his power. The rovers of the night, impelled By fiery rage which naught withheld, Upon the unconquered prince, who strained. His fearful bow, their arrows rained. With sword and club, with mace and pike, With spear and axe to pierce and strike, Those furious fiends on every side The unconquerable hero plied. The giant legions huge and strong, Like clouds the tempest drives along, Rushed upon Ráma with the speed Of whirling car, and mounted steed, And hill-like elephant, to slay The matchless prince in battle fray. Then upon Ráma thick and fast The rain of mortal steel they cast, As labouring clouds their torrents shed Upon the mountain-monarch's¹ head. As near and nearer round him drew The warriors of the giant crew, He showed like Śiva girt by all His spirits when night's shadows fall. As the great deep receives each rill And river rushing from the hill, He bore that flood of darts, and broke With well-aimed shaft each murderous stroke.
By stress of arrowy storm assailed, And wounded sore, he never failed, Like some high mountain which defies The red bolts flashing from the skies. With ruddy streams each limb was dyed From gaping wounds in breast and side, Showing the hero like the sun ’Mid crimson clouds ere day is done. Then, at that sight of terror, faint Grew God, Gandharva, sage, and saint, Trembling to see the prince oppose His single might to myriad foes. But waxing wroth, with force unspent, He strained his bow to utmost bent, And forth his arrows keen and true In hundreds, yea in thousands flew,— Shafts none could ward, and none endure: Death’s fatal noose was scarce so sure. As ’twere in playful ease he shot His gilded shafts, and rested not. With swiftest flight and truest aim Upon the giant hosts they came.
Each smote, each stayed a foeman’s breath, As fatal as the coil of Death. Each arrow through a giant tore A passage, and besmeared with gore, Pursued its onward way and through The air with flamy brilliance flew. Unnumbered were the arrows sent From the great bow which Kama bent, And every shaft with iron head The lifeblood of a giant shed. Their pennoned bows were cleft, nor mail Nor shield of hide could aught avail. For Ráma’s myriad arrows tore Through arms, and bracelets which they wore,
And severed mighty warriors’ thighs Like trunks of elephants in size, And cut resistless passage sheer Through gold-decked horse and charioteer, Slew elephant and rider, slew The horseman and the charger too, And infantry unnumbered sent To dwell ’neath Yama’s government. Then rose on high a fearful yell Of rovers of the night, who fell Beneath that iron torrent, sore Wounded by shafts that rent and tore. So mangled by the ceaseless storm Of shafts of every kind and form, Such joy they found, as forests feel When scorched by flame, from Rama’s steel. The mightiest still the fight maintained, And furious upon Ráma rained Dart, arrow, spear, with wild attacks Of mace, and club, and battle-axe. But the great chief, unconquered yet, Their weapons with his arrows met. Which severed many a giant's head, And all the plain with corpses spread. With sundered bow and shattered shield Headless they sank upon the field, As the tall trees, that felt the blast Of Garud’s wing, to earth were cast. The giants left unslaughtered there Where filled with terror and despair, And to their leader Khara fled Faint, wounded, and discomfited. These fiery Dúshan strove to cheer, And poised his bow to calm their fear; Then fierce as He who rules the dead, When wroth, on angered Ráma sped. By Dúshan cheered, the demons cast Their dread aside and rallied fast. With Sáls, rocks, palm-trees in their hands, With nooses, maces, pikes, and brands, Again upon the godlike man The mighty fiends infuriate ran, These casting rocks like hail, and these A whelming shower of leafy trees. Wild, wondrous fight, the eye to scare, And raise on end each shuddering hair,¹Himálaya.
