Then to the saint supremely wise
King Janak spoke in suppliant guise:
‘Deign, Hermit, with attentive ear,
Mv race’s origin to hear.
When kings a daughter’s hand bestow,
‘Tis right their line and fame to show.
There was a king whose deeds and worth
Spread wide his name through heaven and earth,
Nimi, most virtuous e’en from youth,
The best of all who love the truth,
His son and heir was Mithi, and
His Janak, first who ruled this land.
He left a son Udávasu,
Blest with all virtues, good and true.
His son was Nandivardhan, dear
For pious heart and worth sincere.
His son Suketu, hero brave,
To Devarát, existence gave.
King Devarát, a royal sage,
For virtue, glory of the age,
Begot Vrihadratha; and he
Begot, his worthy heir to be,
The splendid hero Mahábir
Who long in glory governed here.
His son was Sudhriti, a youth
Firm in his purpose, brave in sooth,
His son was Dhristaketu, blest
With pious will and holy breast.
The fame of royal saint he won:
Haryas’va was his princely son.
Haryas’va’s son was Maru, who
Begot Pratíndhak, wise and true.
Next Kírtiratha held the throne,
His son, for gentle virtues known.
Then followed Devamidha, then
Vibudh, Mahándhrak, kings of men.
Mahándhrak’s son, of boundless might,
Was Kírtirát, who loved the right.
He passed away, a sainted king,
And Maháromá following
To Swarnaromá left the state.
Then Hras’varomá, good and great,
Succeeded, and to him a pair
Of sons his royal consort bare,
Elder of these I boast to be:
Brave Kus’adhwaj is next to me. [1]
Me then, the elder of the twain,
My sire anointed here to reign.
He bade me tend my brother well,
Then to the forest went to dwell.
He sought the heavens, and I sustained
The burden as by law ordained,
And noble Kus’adhwaj, the peer
Of Gods, I ever held most dear.
Then came Sánkás’yá’s mighty lord,
Sudhanvá, threatening siege and sword,
And bade me swift on him bestow
S’iva’s incomparable bow,
[ p. 83 ]
And Sítá of the lotus eyes:
But I refused each peerless prize.
Then, host to host, we met the foes,
And fierce the din of battle rose,
Sudhanvá, foremost of his band,
Fell smitten by my single hand.
When thus Sánkás’yá’s lord was slain,
I sanctified, as laws ordain,
My brother in his stead to reign,
Thus are we brothers, Saint most high
The younger he, the elder I.
Now, mighty Sage, my spirit joys
To give these maidens to the boys.
Let Sítá be to Ráma tied.
And Urmilá be Lakshman’s bride.
First give, O King, the gift of cows,
As dowry of each royal spouse,
Due offerings to the spirits pay,
And solemnize the wedding-day.
The moon tonight, O royal Sage,
In Maghá’s 1 House takes harbourage;
On the third night his rays benign
In second Phálguni 2 will shine:
Be that the day, with prosperous fate,
The nuptial rites to celebrate.’
When royal Janak’s words were done,
Joined with Vas’ishtha Kus’ik’s son,
The mighty sage began his speech:
‘No mind may soar, no thought can reach
The glories of Ikshváku’s line,
Or, great Videha’s King, of thine:
None in the whole wide world may vie
With them in fame and honours high.
Well matched, I ween, in holy bands,
These peerless pairs will join their hands.
But hear me as I speak once more;
Thy brother, skilled in duty’s lore,
Has at his home a royal pair
Of daughters most divinely fair.
I for the hands of these sweet two
For Bharat and S’atrughna sue,
Both princes of heroic mould,
Wise, fair of form, and lofty-souled.
All Das’aratha’s sons, I ween,
Own each young grace of form and mien:
Brave as the Gods are they, nor yield
To the great Lords the worlds who shield.
By these, good Prince of merits high,
Ikshváku’s house with thine ally.’
The suit the holy sage preferred,
With willing ear the monarch heard:
Vas’ishtha’s lips the counsel praised:
Then spake the king with hands upraised:
‘Now blest indeed my race I deem,
Which your high will, O Saints supreme,
With Das’aratha’s house unites
In bonds of love and marriage rites.
So be it done. My nieces twain
Let Bharat and S’atrughna gain,
And the four youths the selfsame day
Four maiden hands in theirs shall lay.
No day so lucky may compare,
For marriage—so the wise declare—
With the last day of Phálguni
Ruled by the genial deity.’
Then with raised hands in reverence due
To those arch-saints he spoke anew:
‘I am your pupil, ever true:
To me high favour have ye shown;
Come, sit ye on my royal throne,
For Das’aratha rules these towers
E’en as Ayodhyá now is ours.
Do with your own whate’er ye choose:
Your lordship here will none refuse.’
He spoke, and to Videha’s king
Thus Das’aratha, answering:
‘Boundless your virtues, lords, wbose sway
The realms of Mithilá obey.
With honouring care you entertain.
Both holy sage and royal train.
Now to my house my steps I bend—
May blessings still on you at end—
Due offerings to the shades to pay.’
Thus spoke the king, and turned away:
To Janak first he bade adieu,
Then followed fast those holy two.
The monarch reached his palace where
The rites were paid with solemn care.
When the next sun began to shine
He rose and made his gift of kine.
A bundled thousand cows prepared
For each young prince the Bráhmans shared.
Each had her horns adorned with gold;
And duly was the number told,
Four hundred thousand perfect tale:
Each brought a calf, each filled a pail.
And when that glorious task was o’er,
The monarch with his children four,
Showed like the Lord of Life divine
When the worlds’ guardians round him shine.
[ p. 84 ]
On that same day that saw the king
His gift of kine distributing,
The lord of Kekaya’s son, by name
Yudhájit, Bharat’s uncle, came,
Asked of the monarch’s health, and then
Addressed the reverend king of men:
‘The lord of Kekaya’s realm by me
Sends greeting, noble King, to thee:
Asks if the friends thy prayers would bless
Uninterrupted health possess.
Right anxious, mighty King, is he
My sister’s princely boy to see.
For this I sought Ayodhyá fair
The message of my sire to bear.
There learning, O my liege, that thou
With sons and noble kinsmen now
Wast resting here, I sought the place
Longing to see my nephew’s face.’
The king with kind observance cheered
His friend by tender ties endeared,
And every choicest honour pressed
Upon his honourable guest.
That night with all his children spent,
At morn King Das’aratha went,
Behind Vas’ishtha and the rest,
To the fair ground for rites addressed.
Then when the lucky hour was nigh
Called Victory, of omen high,
Came Ráma, after vow and prayer
For nuptial bliss and fortune fair,
With the three youths in bright attire,
And stood beside his royal sire.
To Janak then Vas’ishtha sped,
And to Videha’s monarch said:
‘O King, Ayodhyá’s ruler now
Has breathed the prayer and vowed the vow,
And with his sons expecting stands
The giver of the maidens’ hands.
The giver and the taker both
Must ratify a mutual oath.
Perform the part for which we wait,
And rites of marriage celebrate.’
Skilled in the laws which Scriptures teach,
He answered thus Vas’ishtha’s speech:
‘O Saint, what warder bars the gate?
Whose bidding can the king await?
In one’s own house what doubt is shown?
This kingdom, Sage, is all thine own.
E’en now the maidens may he found
Within the sacrificial ground:
Each vow is vowed and prayed each prayer,
And they, like fire, are shining there.
Here by the shrine my place I took
Expecting thee with eager look.
No bar the nuptial rites should stay:
What cause have we for more delay?’
When Janak’s speech the monarch heard
To sons and saints he gave the word,
And set them in the holy ring.
Then to Vas’ishtha spoke the king
Of Mithilá: 'O mighty Sage,
Now let this task thy care engage,
And lend thine aid and counsel wise
The nuptial rites to solemnize.’
The saint Vas’ishtha gave assent,
And quickly to the task he went.
With Vis’vámitra, nothing both,
And S’atánanda aiding both.
Then, as the rules prescribe, they made
An altar in the midst, and laid
Fresh wreaths of fragrant flowers thereon.
The golden ladles round it shone;
And many a vase, which branches hid
Fixed in the perforated lid,
And sprays, and cups, and censers there
Stood filled with incense rich and rare;
Shell-bowls,and spoons, and salvers dressed
With gifts that greet the honoured guest;
Piles of parched rice some dishes bore,
Others with corn prepared ran o’er;
And holy grass was duly spread
In equal lengths, while prayers were said.
Next chief of saints, Vas’ishtha came
And laid the offering in the flame.
Then by the hand King Janak drew
His Sítá, beautiful to view,
And placed her, bright in rich attire,
Ráma to face, before the fire,
Thus speaking to the royal boy
Who filled Kaus’alyá’s heart with joy:
‘Here Sítá stands, my daughter fair,
The duties of thy life to share.
Take from her father, take thy bride,
Join hand to hand, and bliss betide!
A faithful wife, most blest is she,
And as thy shade will follow thee.’
Thus as he spoke the monarch threw
O’er her young limbs the holy dew,
While Gods and saints were heard to swell
The joyous cry, 'Tis well! ‘Tis well!
His daughter Sítá thus bestowed,
O’er whom the sacred drops had flowed.
King Janak’s heart with rapture glowed.
Then to Prince Lakshman thus he cried’.
‘Take Urmilá thine offered bride,
And clasp her hand within thine own
Ere yet the lucky hour be flown.’
Then to Prince Bharat thus cried he;
‘Come, take the hand of Mándavi.’
Then to S’atrughna: 'In thy grasp
The hand of S’rutakirti clasp.
Now, Raghu’s sons, may all of you
Be gentle to your wives and true;
[ p. 85 ]
Keep well the vows you make to-day,
Nor let occasion slip away.’
King Janak’s word the youths obeyed;
The maidens’ hands in theirs they laid.
Then with their brides the princes went
With ordered steps and reverent
Bound both the tire and Janak, round
The sages and the sacred ground.
A flowery flood of lucid dyes
In rain descended from the skies,
While with celestial voices blent
Sweet strains from many an instrument,
And the nymphs danced in joyous throng
Responsive to the minstrel’s song.
Such signs of exultation they
Saw on the princes’ wedding day.
Still rang the heavenly music’s sound
When Raghu’s sons thrice circled round
The fire, each one with reverent head,
And homeward then their brides they led.
They to the sumptuous palace hied
That Janak’s care had seen supplied.
The monarch girt with saint and peer
Still fondly gazing followed near.
Soon as the night had reached its close
The hermit Vis’vámitra rose;
To both the kings he bade adieu
And to the northern hill withdrew.
Ayodhyá’s lord of high renown
Received farewell, and sought his town.
Then as each daughter left her bower
King Janak gave a splendid dower,
Bugs, precious silks, a warrior force,
Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse,
Divine to see and well arrayed;
And many a skilful tiring-maid,
And many a young and trusty slave
The father of the ladies gave.
Silver and coral, gold and pearls
He gave to his beloved girls.
These precious gifts the king bestowed
And sped his guest upon his road.
The lord of Mithilá’s sweet town
Rode to his court and lighted down.
Ayodhyá’s monarch, glad and gay,
Led by the seers pursued his way
With his dear sons of lofty mind:
The royal army marched behind.
As on he fared the voice he heard
Around of many a dismal bird,
And every beast in wild affright
Began to hurry to the right.
The monarch to Vas’ishtha cried:
‘What strange misfortune will betide?
Why do the beasts in terror fly,
And birds of evil omen cry?
What is it shakes my heart with dread?
Why is my soul disquieted?’
Soon as he heard, the mighty saint
Thus answered Das’aratha’s plaint
In sweetest tone: 'Now, Monarch, mark,
And learn from me the meaning dark.
The voices of the birds of air
Great peril to the host declare:
The moving beasts the dread allay,
So drive thy whelming fear away,’
As he and Das’aratha spoke
A tempest from the welkin broke,
That shook the spacious earth amain
And hurled high trees upon the plain.
The sun grew dark with murky cloud,
And o’er the skies was cast a shroud,
While o’er the army, faint with dread,
A veil of dust and ashes spread.
King, princes, saints their sense retained,
Fear-stupefied the rest remained.
At length, their wits returning, all
Beneath the gloom and ashy pall
Saw Jamadagni’s son with dread,
His long hair twisted round his head,
Who, sprung from Bhrigu, loved to beat
The proudest kings beneath his feet.
Firm as Kailása’s hill he showed,
Fierce as the fire of doom he glowed.
His axe upon his shoulder lay,
His bow was ready for the fray,
With thirsty arrows wont to fly
Like Lightnings from the angry sky.
A long keen arrow forth he drew,
Invincible like those which flew
From S’iva’s ever-conquering bow
And Tripurá in death laid low.
When his wild form, that struck with awe,
Fearful as ravening flame, they saw,
Vas’ishtha and the saints whose care
Was sacrifice and muttered prayer,
Drew close together, each to each,
And questioned thus with bated speech:
‘Indignant at his father’s fate
Will he on warriors vent his hate,
The slayers of his father slay,
And sweep the loathed race away?
But when of old his fury raged
Seas of their blood his wrath assuaged:
[ p. 86 ]
So doubtless now he has not planned
To slay all warriors in the land.’
Then with a gift the saints drew near
To Bhrigu’s son whose look was fear,
And Ráma! Ráma! soft they cried.
The gift he took, no word replied.
Then Bhrigu’s son his silence broke
And thus to Ráma Ráma spoke:
‘Heroic Ráma, men proclaim
The marvels of thy matchless fame,
And I from loud-voiced rumour know
the exploit of the broken bow,
Yea, bent and broken, mighty Chief,
A feat most wondrous, past belief.
Stirred by thy fame thy face I sought:
A peerless bow I too have brought.
This mighty weapon, strong and dire,
Great Jamadagni owned, my sire.
Draw with its shaft my father’s bow,
And thus thy might, O Ráma, show.
This proof of prowess let me see—
The weapon bent and drawn by thee;
Then single fight our strength shall try,
And this shall raise thy glory high.’
King Das’aratha heard with dread
The boastful speech, and thus he said,
Raising his hands in suppliant guise,
With pallid cheek and timid eyes:
‘Forgetful of the bloody feud
Ascetic toils hast thou pursued;
Then, Bráhman, let thy children be
Untroubled and from danger free.
Sprung of the race of Bhrigu, who
Read holy lore, to vows most true,
Thou swearest to the Thousand-eyed
And thy fierce axe was cast aside.
Thou turnedst to thy rites away
Leaving the earth to Kaśyap’s sway,
And wentest far a grove to seek
Beneath Mahendra’s mountain peak. [3]
Now, mighty Hermit, art thou here
To slay us all with doom severe?
For if alone my Ráma fall,
We share his fate and perish all.’
As thus the aged sire complained
The mighty chief no answer deigned.
To Ráma only thus he cried:
‘Two bows, the Heavenly Artist’s pride,
Celestial, peerless, vast, and strong,
By all the worlds were honoured long.
One to the Three-eyed God [4] was given,
By glory to the conflict driven,
Thus armed fierce Tripura he slew:
And then by thee 'twas burst in two.
The second bow, which few may brave,
The highest Gods to Vishnu gave.
This bow I hold; before it fall
The foeman’s fenced tower and wall.
Then prayed the Gods the Sire Most High
Bv some unerring proof to try
Were praise for might Lord Vishnu’s due,
Or his whose Neck is stained with Blue. [5]
The mighty Sire their wishes knew,
And he whose lips are ever true
Caused the two Gods to meet as foes.
Then fierce the rage of battle rose:
Bristled in dread each starting hair
As S’iva strove with Vishnu there.
But Vishnu raised his voice amain.
And S’iva’s bowstring twanged in vain;
Its master of the Three bright Eyes
Stood fixt in fury and surprise.
Then all the dwellers in the sky,
Minstrel, and saint, and God drew nigh,
And prayed them that the strife might cease,
And the great rivals met in peace.
‘Twas seen how S’iva’s bow has failed
Unnerved, when Vishnu’s might assailed,
And Gods and heavenly sages thence
To Vishnu gave preeminence.
Then glorious S’iva in his rage
Gave it to Devarát the sage
Who ruled Videha’s fertile land,
To pass it down from hand to hand.
But this my bow, whose shafts smite down
The foeman’s fenced tower and town,
To great Richika Vishnu lent
To be a pledge and ornament,
Then Jamadagni, Bráhman dread,
My sire, the bow inherited.
But Arjun stooped to treachery vile
And slew my noble sire by guile,
Whose penance awful strength had gained,
Whose hand the God-given bow retained.
[ p. 87 ]
I heard indignant how he fell
By mournful fate, too sad to tell.
My vengeful fury since that time
Scourges all Warriors for the crime.
As generations spring to life
I war them down in endless strife.
All earth I brought beneath my sway,
And gave it for his meed and pay
To holy Kas’yap, when of yore
The rites performed by him were o’er.
Then to Mahendra’s hill I turned
Strong in the strength that penance earned,
And toiled upon his lofty head
By Gods immortal visited.
The breaking of the bow I knew
From startled Gods conversing, through
The airy regions, of thy deed,
And hither came with swiftest speed.
Now, for thy Warrior’s honour sake,
This best of bows, O Ráma, take:
This, owned by Vishnu’s self of old,
My sire and grandsire loved to hold.
Drawn to its head upon the string,
One town-destroying arrow bring;
If this thou can, O hero, I
In single fight thy strength will try.’
The haughty challenge, undeterred
The son of Das’aratha heard,
And cried, while reverence for his sire
Checked the full torrent of his ire:
‘Before this day have I been told
The deed that stained thy hands of old.
But pity bids my soul forget:
Thy father, murdered, claimed the debt.
My strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight,
Too feeble for a Warrior’s might.
Now will I show thy wondering eyes
The prowess which they dare despise.’
He hastened then with graceful ease
Tbat mighty bow and shaft to seize.
His hand the weapon strung and swayed:
The arrow on the string was laid.
Then Jamadagni’s son he eyed,
And thus in words of fury cried:
‘Thou art a Bráhman, still to be
Most highly honoured, Chief, by me.
For Visvámitra’s sake beside
Shall reverence due be ne’er denied.
Though mine the power, I would not send
A dart at thee thy life to end.
But thy great power to wander free,
Which penance-rites have won for thee,
Or glorious worlds from thee to wrest,
Is the firm purpose of my breast,
And Vishnu’s dart which now I strain
Can ne’er be shot to fall in vain:
It strikes the mighty, and it stuns
The madness of the haughty ones.
Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir
Preceded by the General Sire,
Met in the air and gazed below
On Ráma with that wondrous bow.
Nymph, minstrel, angel, all were there,
Snake-God, and spirit of the air,
Giant, and bard, and gryphon, met,
Their eyes upon the marvel set.
In senseless hush the world was chained
While Ráma’s hand the bow retained,
And Jamadagni’s son amazed
And powerless on the hero gazed.
Then when his swelling heart had shrunk,
And his proud strength in torpor sunk,
Scarce his voice ventured, low and weak,
To Ráma lotus-eyed, to speak:
‘When long ago I gave away
The whole broad land to Kas’yap’s sway
He charged me never to remain
Within the limits of his reign.
Obedient to my guide’s behest
On earth by night I never rest.
My choice is made. I will not dim
Mine honour and be false to him.
So, son of Raghu, leave me still
The power to wander where I will,
And swifter than the thought my flight
Shall place me on Mahendra’s height.
My mansions of eternal joy.
By penance won, thou mayst destroy.
My path to these thy shaft may stay.
Now to the work! No more delay!
I know thee Lord of Gods; I know
Thy changeless might laid Madhu low.
All other hands would surely fail
To bend this bow. All hail! all hail!
See! all the Gods have left the skies
To bend on thee their eager eyes,
With whose achievements none compete.
Whose arm in war no God can meet.
No shame is mine. I ween, for thou,
Lord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow.
Now, pious Ráma, 'tis thy part
To shoot afar that glorious dart:
I, when the fatal shaft is shot,
Will seek that hill and tarry not.’
He ceased. The wondrous arrow flew,
And Jamadagni’s offspring knew
Those glorious worlds to him were barred,
Once gained by penance long and hard.
Then straight the airy quarters cleared,
And the mid regions bright appeared,
While Gods and saints unnumbered praised
Ráma, the mighty bow who raised.
And Jamadagni’s son, o’erawed.
Extolled his name with highest laud,
[ p. 88 ]
With reverent steps around him strode,
Then hastened on his airy road.
Far from the sight of all he fled,
And rested on Mahendra’s head.
Then Ráma with a cheerful mind
The bow to Varun’s hand resigned.
Due reverence to the saints he paid,
And thus addressed his sire dismayed:
‘As Bhrigu’s son is far from view,
Now let the host its march pursue,
And to Ayodhyá’s town proceed
In four-fold bands, with thee to lead.’
King Das’aratha thus addressed
His lips to Ráma’s forehead pressed,
And held him to his aged breast.
Rejoiced in sooth was he to know
That Bhrigu’s son had parted so,
And hailed a second life begun
For him and his victorious son.
He urged the host to speed renewed,
And soon Ayodhyá’s gates he viewed.
High o’er the roofs gay pennons played;
Tabour and drum loud music made;
Fresh water cooled the royal road,
And flowers in bright profusion glowed.
Glad crowds with garlands thronged the ways
Rejoicing on their king to gaze
And all the town was bright and gay
Exalting in the festive day.
People and Bráhmans flocked to meet
Their monarch ere he gained the street.
The glorious king amid the throng
Rode with his glorious sons along,
And passed within his dear abode
That like Himálaya’s mountain showed.
And there Kausalyá, noble queen,
Sumitrá with her lovely mien,
Kaikeyí of the dainty waist,
And other dames his bowers who graced,
Stood in the palace side by side
And welcomed home each youthful bride:
Fair Sítá, lofty-fated dame,
Urmilá of the glorious fame,
And Kus’adhwaja’s children fair,
With joyous greeting and with prayer,
As all in linen robes arrayed
With offerings at the altars prayed,
Due reverence paid to God above.
Each princess gave her soul to love,
And hidden in her inmost bower
Passed with her lord each blissful hour.
The royal youths, of spirit high,
With whom in valor none shall vie,
Lived each within his palace bounds
Bright as Kuvera’s pleasure-grounds,
With riches, troops of faithful friends,
And bliss that wedded life attends:
Brave princes trained in warlike skill,
And duteous to their father’s will.
At length the monarch called one morn
Prince Bharat, of Kaikeyí born,
And cried: 'My son, within our gates
Lord Yudhájit thine uncle waits.
The son of Kekaya’s king is he,
And came, my child, to summon thee.’
Then Bharat for the road prepared,
And with S’atrughna forth he fared.
First to his sire he bade adieu,
Brave Ráma, and his mothers too.
Lord Yudhájit with joyful pride
Went forth, the brothers by his side,
And reached the city where he dwelt:
And mighty joy his father felt.
Ráma and Lakshman honoured still
Their godlike sire with duteous will.
Two constant guides for Ráma stood,
His father’s wish, the people’s good.
Attentive to the general weal
He thought and wrought to please and heal,
His mothers too he strove to please
With love and sonly courtesies.
At every time, in every spot,
His holy guides he ne’er forgot.
So for his virtues kind and true
Dearer and dearer Ráma grew
To Das’aratha, Bráhmans, all
In town and country, great and small.
And Ráma by his darling’s side
Saw many a blissful season glide,
Lodged in her soul, each thought on her,
Lover, and friend, and worshipper.
He loved her for his father’s voice
Had given her and approved the choice:
He loved her for each charm she wore
And her sweet virtues more and more.
So he her lord and second life
Dwelt in the bosom of his wife,
In double form, that, e’en apart,
Each heart could commune free with heart.
Still grew that child of Janak’s race,
More goddess-fair in form and face,
The loveliest wife that e’er was seen,
In mortal mould sweet Beauty’s Queen.
Then shone the son Kaus’alyá bore,
With this bright dame allied,
Like Vishnu whom the Gods adore,
With Lakshmi by his side.
82:1b ‘In the setting forth of these royal genealogies the Bengal recension varies but slightly from the Northern. The first six names of the genealogy of the Kings of Ayodhyá are partly theogonical and partly cosmogonical; the other names are no doubt in accordance with tradition and deserve the same amount of credence as the ancient traditional genealogies of other nations.’ GORRESIO. ↩︎
85:1 This is another Ráma, son of Jamadagni, called Paras’uráma, or Ráma with the axe, from the weapon which he carried. He was while he lived the terror ot the Warrior caste, and his name recalls long and fierce struggles between the sacerdotal and military order in which tne latter suffered severely at the hands of their implacable enemy. ↩︎
86:1 ‘The author of the Raghuvams’a places the mountain Mahendra in the territory of the king of the Kalingans, whose palace commanded a view of the ocean. It is well known that the country along the coast to the south of the mouths of the Ganges was the seat of this people. Hence it may be suspected that this Mahendra is what Pliny calls “promontorium Calingon”. The modern name, Cape Palmyras, from the palmyras Borassus flabelliformis, which abound there agrees remarkably with the description of the poet who speaks of the groves of these trees. Raghuvansa, VI. 51.’ SCHLEGEL. ↩︎
86:1b S’iva ↩︎
86:2b S’iva. God of the Azure Neck. ↩︎