of seven books, containing twenty-four thousand verses,) but these volumes have long been out of print, and are said to be "very inferior as productions of literary art, though no blame attaches to the excellent men who published their work in the very dawn of Oriental studies."

In 1846 Schlegel published the text of the first two books, with a Latin translation of the first and part of the second. "I congratulate myself," he says in the Preface, " that by the favor of the Supreme Deity I have been allowed to begin so great a work. I glory and make my boast that I, too, after so many ages, have helped to confirm that ancient oracle declared to Valmiki by the father of gods and men :

"Dum stabunt montes, campis dum flumina current,

Usque tuum toto carmen celebrabitur orbe.' ”.

The volumes before us indicate no small amount of research, scholarly ability, taste, and poetical skill. Mr. Griffith is to be congratulated for having given this very remarkable poem to the English public in so attractive a form. It will remain a worthy monument to his perseverance and erudition.

The work opens with a happy description of the great hero, his fair, strong body, and his many good qualities of head and heart. It also gives a brief history of his life, travels, and courageous deeds, which may be epitomized as follows:

Rama was the son of Dasaratha, King of Ajudhiya, who was fifty-seventh in descent from the illustrious Manu. This famous king had three queens, and the chief of these, Kausalya, gave birth to the hero of the poem. Even while a youth he became a general favorite in the kingdom, and especially with his father. In company with Lakshman, his ever-constant brother, he set out upon his travels. Journeying to the east, he arrived at the court of Janak, a great king, who gave him welcome in his own and in his father's name. This Janak had a bow wonderfully strong, and a daughter (named Sita) marvelously fair. He had promised Sita to the suitor who should be able to bend the great bow, but although many came to make the trial all failed. Rama asked to see the bow, and when it was brought seized it in the middle and drew the string until the weapon broke in two. The lovely Sita was at once pronounced to be his, and word was sent to his royal father, who hastened to attend the nuptial ceremonies. The marriage

was celebrated with great éclat, King Dasaratha giving as dowry one hundred thousand cows for each of his sons. The ceremonies ended, the kingly party returned to Ajudhiya, where they were met by an enthusiastic host of "people and Brahmans," who welcomed them home. The hero of the bow became more and more popular on account of his filial obedience, courage, and beauty.

"So for his virtues, kind and true,
Dearer and dearer Rama grew

To Dasaratha, Brahmans, all

In town and country, great and small."

The king grew older, and was minded to associate with himself his favorite son as Regent Heir. A popular assembly was held, and the people were asked to express their pleasure. The plan of the king was unanimously approved, and Rama was told by his father that he should be installed on the morrow. Great preparations were made. Temples, trees, shops, and houses were covered with banners and decorated with flowers; villagers came from every side and filled the city:

"Each with his friend had much to say

Of Rama's consecration day;

Yea, even children as they played

At cottage doors beneath the shade."

But, suddenly and without warning, the star of Rama's prosperity shot downward, and

"When Kaikeyi, youngest queen,
With eyes of envious hate had seen
The solemn pomp and regal state
Prepared the prince to consecrate,
She bade the hapless king bestow
Two gifts he promised long ago,
That Rama to the woods should flee,

And that her child the heir should be."

The king could not but keep his promise, and, weeping, banished his darling son, and in his place placed Kaikeyi's child, Bharat, upon the throne.

"Then Lakshman's truth was nobly shown,

Then were his love and courage known,

When for his brother's sake he dared

All perils, and his exile shared."

The faithful Sita, too, went with her lord. The king and people, "sad of mood," followed the departing hero until they came to the Ganges, when he crossed over and they returned to the capital. The little party went from wood to wood until

"They came to Chitrakuta's hill,

And Rama there, with Lakshman's aid,

A pleasant little cottage made,

And spent his days with Sita, dressed

In coat of bark and deer-skin vest.*
And Chitrakuta grew to be

As bright with those illustrious three t
As Meru's sacred peaks that shine
With glory, when the gods recline
Beneath them: Siva's self between

The Lord of Gold and Beauty's Queen."

The aged king pined for Rama, and died of grief. Bharat refused to reign, and wandered through the woods until he found his exiled brother. He besought him to return and take the throne, but Rama steadily refused, choosing rather to obey his father's decree:

"He placed his sandals in his hand,

A pledge that he would rule the land;'
And bade his brother turn again.

"Then Bharat, finding prayer was vain,
The sandals took and went away;
Nor in Ayodhya would he stay,

But turned to Nandigrama, where

He ruled the realm with watchful care,

Still longing eagerly to learn

Tidings of Rama's safe return.

"Then lest the people should repeat

Their visit to his calm retreat,

Away from Chitrakuta's hill

Fared Rama ever onward, till

Beneath the shady trees he stood

Of Dandaka's primeval wood."

Here the hero of the poem took up his abode. Counseled by a new-found friend

The garb prescribed for ascetics by Manu.

In half the temples of Oudh and Central India images of Rama, Lakshman, and Sita, made of marble and richly painted, are to be seen. The extent to which they are worshiped proves the estimation in which they are held.

"He gained the sword

And bow of Indra, heavenly lord:
A pair of quivers too, that bore

Of arrows an exhaustless store."

With these weapons he delivered the trembling hermits from their foes, destroying fiends, giants, and giantesses in countless numbers. The news was carried to Ravan, king of the demons,

"Whose name of fear

Earth, hell, and heaven all shook to hear."

"Impelled by fate and blind with rage,
He came to Rama's hermitage."

"He wiled the princely youths apart,

The vulture slew and bore away
The wife of Rama as his prey."

Rama returned to his leafy cot, but, not finding Sita, he rushed through the forest broken-hearted, weeping and wailing over his loss. At last he made friends with Hanuman, "the wind-god's son," and Sugriva, a powerful chief. Hanuman went in quest of Sita. One "wild, tremendous leap" of two hundred leagues brought him to the capital city of Ceylon,

Escaping,

"Where Ravan held his royal sway.

There pensive 'neath Asoka boughs
He found poor Sita, Rama's spouse.
He gave the hapless girl a ring,
A token from her lord and king.

A pledge from her fair hand he bore;
Then battered down the garden-door.
Five captains of the host he slew,
Seven sons of councillors o'erthrew ;
Crushed youthful Aksha on the field,
Then to his captors chose to yield."

"The town he burned with hostile flame,
And spoke again with Raina's dame,
Then swiftly back to Rama flew

With tidings of the interview."

Rama, accompanied by Hanuman, Sugriva, and legions of monkeys, set out to rescue the captive lady. A bridge was thrown across the narrow sea between the continent and Ceylon, and the host crossed

* Jatayu, a semi-divine bird who fought in defense of Sita. FOURTH SERIES, VOL. XXXII.—8

Then

"To Lanka's golden town,

Where Rama's hand smote Ravan down." *

"To meet her husband Sita came;

But Rama, stung with ire and shame,
With bitter words his wife addressed
Before the crowd that round her pressed.
But Sita, touched with noble ire,
Gave her fair body to the fire.

Then straight the god of Wind appeared,
And words from heaven her honor cleared.
And Rama clasped his wife again,
Uninjured, pure from spot and stain."

Raising to life his fallen warriors, in company with Sita, Rama flew in magic chariot through the clouds to Nandigrama: "Met by his faithful brothers there,

He loosed his votive coil of hair;
Thence fair Ayodhya's town he gained,
And o'er his father's kingdom reigned."

His reign was very prosperous:

"Disease or famine ne'er oppressed
His happy people, richly blest
With all the joys of ample wealth,
Of sweet content and perfect health.
No widow mourned her well-loved mate,
No sire his son's untimely fate.
They feared not storm or robber's hand;

No fire or flood laid waste the land;

The Golden Age † seemed come again

To bless the days of Rama's reign."

With this introduction, which fills four cantos, and which, evidently, is the work of a later hand than Valmiki's, the poem properly begins. First comes a beautiful description of Ayodhya, the capital city of the old kingdom: ‡

"On Sarju's bank, of ample size,

The happy realm of Kosal lies,

The rocks lying between Ceylon and the mainland are still called Rama's Bridge by the Hindus.

The Brahmans count four ages, the Krita, (age of the gods, the perfect or golden age,) the Treta, (the age of the three sacred fires,) the Dwapara, (the age of doubt,) and the Kali, (the present time, the age of evil.)

Now called Ajudhiya, an interesting mass of ruins, adjoining the city of Fyzabad, eighty miles from Lucknow. The site is a grand one, and it is not at all difficult to imagine just such a city as the poet sings of formerly existing here.