saint
    Pure from all spot of earthly taint,
    To Rama, with delighted mind,
    That noble host of spells consigned. 
    He taught the arms, whose lore is won
    Hardly by Gods, to Raghu’s son. 
    He muttered low the spell whose call
    Summons those arms and rules them all—­
    And each, in visible form and frame,
    Before the monarch’s son they came. 
    They stood and spoke in reverent guise
    To Rama with exulting cries:—­
    “O noblest child of Raghu, see,
    Thy ministers and thralls are we.” 
    With joyful heart and eager hand
    Rama received the wondrous band,
    And thus with words of welcome cried:—­
    “Aye present to my will abide”—­
    Then hasted to the saint to pay
    Due reverence, and pursued his way.

CANTO XXX

THE MYSTERIOUS POWERS

    Pure, with glad cheer and joyful breast,
    Of those mysterious arms possessed,
    Rama, now passing on his way,
    Thus to the saint began to say:—­
    “Lord of these mighty weapons, I
    Can scarce be harmed by Gods on high;
    Now, best of saints, I long to gain
    The powers that can these arms restrain.” 
    Thus spoke the prince.  The sage austere,
    True to his vows, from evil clear,
    Called forth the names of those great charms
    Whose powers restrain the deadly arms. 
    “Receive thou True and Truly-famed,
    And Bold and Fleet:  the weapons named
    Warder and Progress, swift of pace,
    Averted-head and Drooping-face;
    The Seen, and that which Secret flies—­
    The weapon of the thousand eyes;
    Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced,
    Star-gazer and the Layer-waste;
    The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot,
    The pair that wake and slumber not;
    The Fiendish, that which shakes amain,
    The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain;
    The Guardian, and the Close-allied,
    The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side:—­
    O Raghu’s son receive all these,
    Bright ones that wear what forms they please;
    Krisasva’s mystic sons are they,
    And worthy thou their might to sway.” 
    With joy the pride of Raghu’s race
    Received the hermit’s proffered grace—­
    Mysterious arms, to check and stay,
    Or smite the foeman in the fray. 
    Then, all with heavenly forms endued,
    Nigh came the wondrous multitude. 
    Celestial in their bright attire
    Some shone like coals of burning fire—­
    Some were like clouds of dusky smoke;
    And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke:—­
    “Thy thralls, O Rama, here we stand—­
    Command, we pray, thy faithful band.” 
    “Depart,” he cried, “where each may list,
    But when I call you to assist,
    Be present to my mind with speed,
    And aid me in the hour of need.”