The Ramayana/Book III/Canto XXII: Khara's Wrath

Roused by the taunting words she spoke, The mighty Khara's wrath awoke, And there, while giants girt him round, In these fierce words an utterance found: 'I cannot, peerless one, contain Mine anger at this high disdain, Galling as salt when sprinkled o'er The rawness of a bleeding sore. Ráma in little count I hold, Weak man whose days are quickly told. The caitiff with his life to-day For all his evil deeds shall pay. Dry, sister, dry each needless tear, Stint thy lament and banish fear, For Ráma and his brother go This day to Yama's realm below. My warrior's axe shall stretch him slain, Ere set of sun, upon the plain, Then shall thy sated lips be red With his warm blood in torrents shed.' As Khara's speech the demon heard, With sudden joy her heart was stirred: She fondly praised him as the boast And glory of the giant host. First moved to ire by taunts and stings, Now soothed by gentle flatterings, To Dúshan, who his armies led, The demon Khara spoke, and said: 'Friend, from the host of giants call Full fourteen thousand, best of all, Slaves of my will, of fearful might, Who never turn their backs in fight: Fiends who rejoice to slay and mar, Dark as the clouds of autumn are: Make ready quickly, O my friend, My chariot and the bows I bend. My swords, my shafts of brilliant sheen, My divers lances long and keen. On to the battle will I lead These heroes of Pulastya's seed, And thus, O famed for warlike skill, Ráma my wicked foeman kill.' He spoke, and ere his speech was done, His chariot glittering like the sun, Yoked and announced, by Dúshan's care, With dappled steeds was ready there. High as a peak from Meru rent It burned with golden ornament: The pole of lazulite, of gold Were the bright wheels whereon it rolled. With gold and moonstone blazoned o'er, Fish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore; Auspicious birds embossed thereon, And stars in costly emblem shone. O'er flashing swords his banner hung, And sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung. That mighty host with sword and shield And oar was ready for the field: And Khara saw, and Dúshan cried, 'Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride." Then banners waved, and shield and sword Flashed as the host obeyed its lord. From Janasthán they sallied out With eager speed, and din, and shout, Armed with the mace for close attacks, The bill, the spear, the battle-axe, Steel quoit and club that flashed afar, Huge bow and sword and scymitar, The dart to pierce, the bolt to strike, The murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike. So forth from Janasthán, intent On Khara's will, the monsters went. He saw their awful march: not far Behind the host he drove his car. Ware of his master's will, to speed The driver urged each gold-decked steed. Then forth the warrior's coursers sprang, And with tumultuous murmur rang Each distant quarter of the sky And realms that intermediate lie. High and more high within his breast His pride triumphant rose, While terrible as Death he pressed Onward to slay his foes, 'More swiftly yet,' as on they fled, He cried in thundering tones Loud as a cloud that overhead Hails down a flood of stones.