The seasons six, in rapid flight,
    Had circled since that glorious rite. 
    Eleven months had passed away—­
    ’Twas Chaitra’s ninth returning day. 
    The moon within that mansion shone
    Which Aditi looks so kindly on. 
    Raised to their apex in the sky
    Five brilliant planets beamed on high. 
    Shone with the moon, in Cancer’s sign,
    Vrihaspati with light divine. 
    Kausalya bore an infant blest
    With heavenly marks of grace impressed;
    Rama, the universe’s lord,
    A prince by all the worlds adored. 
    New glory Queen Kausalya won
    Reflected from her splendid son. 
    So Aditi shone more and more,
    The Mother of the Gods, when she
    The King of the Immortals bore,
    The thunder-wielding deity. 
    The lotus-eyed, the beauteous boy,
    He came fierce Ravan to destroy;
    From half of Vishnu’s vigor born,
    He came to help the worlds forlorn. 
    And Queen Kaikeyi bore a child
    Of truest valor, Bharat styled,
    With every princely virtue blest,
    One-fourth of Vishnu manifest. 
    Sumitra too a noble pair,
    Called Lakshman and Satrughna, bare,
    Of high emprise, devoted, true,
    Sharers in Vishnu’s essence too. 
    ’Neath Pushya’s mansion, Mina’s sign,
    Was Bharat born, of soul benign. 
    The sun had reached the Crab at morn
    When Queen Sumitra’s babes were born,
    What time the moon had gone to make
    His nightly dwelling with the Snake. 
    The high-souled monarch’s consorts bore
    At different times those glorious four,
    Like to himself and virtuous, bright
    As Proshthapada’s fourfold light.

    Then danced the nymphs’ celestial throng,
    The minstrels raised their strain;
    The drums of heaven pealed loud and long,
    And flowers came down in rain. 
    Within Ayodhya, blithe and gay,
    All kept the joyous holiday. 
    The spacious square, the ample road
    With mimes and dancers overflowed,
    And with the voice of music rang
    Where minstrels played and singers sang—­
    And shone, a wonder to behold,
    With dazzling show of gems and gold. 
    Nor did the King his largess spare,
    For minstrel, driver, bard, to share;
    Much wealth the Brahmans bore away,
    And many thousand kine that day. 
    Soon as each babe was twelve days old
    Twas time the naming rite to hold,
    When Saint Vasishtha, rapt with joy,
    Assigned a name to every boy. 
    Rama, to him the high-souled heir,
    Bharat, to him Kaikeyi bare—­
    Of Queen Sumitra one fair son
    Was Lakshman, and Satrughna one. 
    Rama, his sire’s supreme delight,
    Like some proud banner cheered his sight,
    And to all creatures seemed to be
    The self-existent deity. 
    All heroes, versed in holy