slain
    The votive steed, a son to gain;
    Stern penance-rites the King has tried,
    And in firm faith on you relied,
    And now with undiminished care
    A second rite would fain prepare. 
    But, O ye Gods, consent to grant
    The longing of your supplicant. 
    For him beseeching hands I lift,
    And pray you all to grant the gift,
    That four fair sons of high renown
    The offerings of the King may crown.” 
    They to the hermit’s son replied:—­
    “His longing shall be gratified. 
    For, Brahman, in most high degree
    We love the King and honor thee.”

    These words the Gods in answer said,
    And vanished thence, by Indra led. 
    Thus to the Lord, the worlds who made,
    The Immortals all assembled prayed:—­
    “O Brahma, mighty by thy grace,
    Ravan, who rules the giant race,
    Torments us in his senseless pride,
    And penance-loving saints beside. 
    For thou well pleased in days of old
    Gavest the boon that makes him bold,
    That God nor demon e’er should kill
    His charmed life, for so thy will. 
    We, honoring that high behest,
    Bear all his rage though sore distressed. 
    That lord of giants fierce and fell
    Scourges the earth and heaven and hell. 
    Mad with thy boon, his impious rage
    Smites saint and bard and God and sage. 
    The sun himself withholds his glow,
    The wind in fear forbears to blow;
    The fire restrains his wonted heat
    Where stand the dreaded Ravan’s feet,
    And, necklaced with the wandering wave,
    The sea before him fears to rave. 
    Kuvera’s self in sad defeat
    Is driven from his blissful seat. 
    We see, we feel the giant’s might,
    And woe comes o’er us and affright. 
    To thee, O Lord, thy suppliants pray
    To find some cure this plague to stay.”

    Thus by the gathered Gods addressed
    He pondered in his secret breast,
    And said:  “One only way I find
    To slay this fiend of evil mind. 
    He prayed me once his life to guard
    From demon, God, and heavenly bard,
    And spirits of the earth and air,
    And I consenting heard his prayer. 
    But the proud giant in his scorn
    Recked not of man of woman born. 
    None else may take his life away,
    But only man the fiend may slay.”

    The Gods, with Indra at their head,
    Rejoiced to hear the words he said. 
    Then, crowned with glory like a flame,
    Lord Vishnu to the council came;
    His hands shell, mace, and discus bore,
    And saffron were the robes he wore. 
    Riding his eagle through the crowd,
    As the sun rides upon a cloud,
    With bracelets of fine gold, he came,
    Loud welcomed by the Gods’ acclaim. 
    His praise they sang with one consent,