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Lifting their aged hands in prayer

They reverence the sun. O look, the merry wind is up,

And scatters leaves around :

The very

mountain seems to dance

With bending forests crowned.

Behold the wavelets white with foam

As round the isles they whirl; Here troubled by the bathing saints,

And there like orient pearl.

Look, scattered by the morning breeze,

What beds of blossoms lie,

And chaplets, cast upon the wave,

Are dancing swiftly by.
Hark to the wild-duck's merry call,

Amid the reeds at play :
Hark to the joyous mallard's note

Responsive far away.
My life in fair Ayodhya's town

Was not so sweet to me

As gazing on this lovely flood,

That glorious hill, and thee.

Bathe in the gentle stream, to her,

With friendly love, repair, And pluck her lilies in thy play,

And twine them in thy hair. This mount, with all its savage life,

Ayodhya's city deem,

And on this beauteous river look

As our own Sarju's stream. O Sita, I am wild with joy,

So rare a lot is mine

Cheered by a duteous brother's care,

And loved with love like thine."

THE RAPE OF SITA.

“Rayana, 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 ?

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