Short Poems

(Sita Lost) We exchange the quiet life of Rama in holy hermitages for the more stirring incidents of the Epic in this Book. The love of a Raksha princess for Rama and for Lakshman is rejected with scorn, and smarting under insult and punishment she fires her brother Ravan, the king of Ceylon, with a thirst for vengeance. The dwellers of Ceylon are described in the Epic as monsters of various forms, and able to assume different shapes at will.

(On the Banks of the Godavari) The wanderings of Rama in the Deccan, his meeting with Saint Agastya, and his residence on the banks of the Godavari river, are narrated in this Book. The reader has now left Northern India and crossed the Vindhya mountains; and the scene of the present and succeeding five Books is laid in the Deccan and Southern India. The name of Agastya is connected with the Deccan, and many are the legends told of this great Saint, before whom the Vindhya mountains bent in awe, and by whose might the Southern ocean was drained.

(The Meeting of the Princes) The scene of this Book is laid at Chitra-kuta. Bharat returning from the kingdom of the Kaikeyas heard of his father's death and his brother's exile, and refused the throne which had been reserved for him. He wandered through the woods and jungle to Chitra-kuta, and implored Rama to return to Ayodhya and seat himself on the throne of his father. But Rama had given his word, and would not withdraw from it.

Your lady friends are ill to see,
All old or ugly as can be,
And in their company you go
To banquet, play, and portico;
This hideous background you prepare
To seem, by contrast, young and fair.

If friends could choose, so dearly loved art thou,
Liber, unfading roses should be thine,
Short-lived are ours, yet bind therewith thy brow,
And let thy locks with rarest unguents shine,
Crown high the cups with dark Falernian wine,
And follow love with all his dear delight;
Though brief the span that grudging fates assign,
Joy thus may lengthen it in their despite.

" PRAY tell me plainly what you think of it,"
You always say, " I love a frank report."
Thus when you read the products of your wit,
Thus when you plead a client's case in court,
You pester me a verdict to extort,
And since a flat refusal seems uncouth
Here is the truth you ask for, plain and short —
That truth is that you do not want the truth.

A FIGHTER to-day and a doctor before,
Time makes little change in your course.
The force of your physic was fatal before,
So now is your physical force!

All save the ancient poets you decry,
The living cannot gain your approbation;
Excuse me — 'tis not worth my while to die,
Even to earn your valued admiration.

You write on the back of your paper, 'tis wrong,
A thing of ill omen to do;
For how can you wonder the genius of song
Is turning his back upon you?

" S HE'S just of the Colossus' height," say you?
Were she a cubit shorter, 'twould be true.