THE RAPE OF SITA.

"Ravana, finding it in vain to hope to succeed without the aid of stratagem, took with him an assistant sorcerer, disguised as a deer; and as Rama took great pleasure in the chase, it was not difficult for the deer to lure him from his cottage in pursuit. He did not leave his beloved Sita without charging Lakshman, his brother, to remain in charge; but the wily deer knew how to defeat his precaution, and when transfixed by Rama's arrow he cried out in the voice of Rama, “Oh, Lakshman, save me!" Sita heard the cry, and entreated Lakshman to fly to his brother's rescue. He was unwilling to go, but yielded to her earnestness and she was left alone." MRS. SPEIR, Life in Ancient India.

As, when the sun and moon their empire leave,
Black night descends upon the widowed eve;

So Ravan, watching for the lovely prize

His form concealed in roaming Brahman's guise―
Drew near to Sita, in the cottage left,

Far from her guardians, of all aid bereft.

All life was husht, and, as the fiend came near,

No leaflet stirred, the wind was still through fear;

And his red eye held, powerless to flee,

The trembling waters of Godaveri.

Unholy guest in holy guise he came,

Close to the side of Rama's mourning dame :

Like a dark well with treacherous weeds o'ergrown,

Like Saturn when his baleful rays are thrown

Upon the fairest star of all the sky.

Thus the Night-rover with his evil eye

Looked on the lonely lady as she wept

Within her leafy home. Awhile he kept
His gaze upon her beauty, for it fed

Upon the splendour of white teeth, the red
Of luscious lips, the light of eyes that through
Their long soft lashes, moistened with the dew
Of weeping, glorified a face, fair-browed,
Pure as the moon shining without a cloud.

Then Ravan cried, pierced by Love's fiery dart : "Speak, marvellous beauty, tell me who thou art : All lonely here, in silken robes arrayed,

Wearing a lotus wreath thy brows to shade:
What heavenly being do mine eyes behold,

Fairer and brighter than the finest gold?
Fame? Beauty? Modesty ?-No less I ween,

Or sweet Desire, young Love's voluptuous queen?

Red are thy lips, thy teeth are small and white;
Thy tender eyes are large and soft and bright.
No child of earth could wear a smile so sweet,
And O, the wonder of thy perfect feet!
Robes cannot hide the glories of thy breast,

And fancy faintly pictures all the rest.

Sweet queen, these eyes have never seen till now
Sylph, nymph, or Goddess half so fair as thou.
This savage wood befits thee, lady, ill,

Where wild fiends roam, changing their form at will.

On some smooth terrace should thy couch be spread,
In gardens sweet with blooms thy feet should tread ;
A royal robe thy peerless form should deck,

And priceless gems sparkle upon thy neck;
The choicest wreath should bind thy glorious hair,
A matchless lord thy bed of love should share.
Who art thou, Goddess? but no heavenly maid
Loves this wild wood: beneath this gloomy shade
No nymph or gentle spirit seeks to roam;
This is the giant's haunt, the lion's home.
Dost thou not dread, so delicate and fair,
The tiger near thee and the wolf and bear?

Whose and who art thou? Tell me, whence and why Thou comest hither, with no guardian nigh.”

He ceased. The lady, by his garb beguiled,
With fearless innocence looked up and smiled;
She bade the seeming Brahman to a seat,
And gave him water for his weary feet;

And, still intent on hospitable care,

Brought forth the choicest of her woodland fare.
She by the cottage-door expecting stood

To see her lord returning through the wood;
But naught save boundless trees her gazes met:
Rama and Lakshman, lingering, came not yet.
And then she told him what he sought to know,
Her name, her lineage, all her weal and woe:
The monarch's promise, and Kaikeyi's hate,

The fatal oath, and grief that came too late.
"And now," she said, "declare thy name and race,
And why thou roamest to this gloomy place."

She spoke. The stranger thundered in reply: "Terror of men and Gods and worlds am I,

Ravan, whose will the giant hosts obey.

Since I have seen thee, lovely one, to-day,
Clad in silk raiment, bright as polisht gold,
My love for all my wives is dead and cold.
Though countless dames of perfect beauty, torn
From many a pillaged realm, my home adorn,
Come, fairest, come, my queen and darling be;
Among a thousand I will love but thee.

My city, Lanka, like a glittering crown,
Looks from the high brow of a mountain down
On restless Ocean, who with flash and foam
Beats in wild rage against my island-home.
There pleasant gardens shall thy steps invite
With me to wander when the moon is bright;
There in new joys thy breast shall ne'er retain
One faint remembrance of this place of pain."

Then from her breast the noble fury broke ; With flashing eye and quivering lip she spoke : "Me, me, the faithful wife of Rama, him Before whose glory Indra's fame is dim: Rama, who quails not in the battle-shock,