सर्ग ४५

Away, away the Vánars sped Like locusts o’er the land outspread. To northern realms where rising high The King of Mountains cleaves the sky, Fierce Śatabal with vast array Of Vánar warriors led the way. Far southward, as his lord decreed, Wise Hanumán, the Wind-God’s seed, With Angad his swift way pursued, And Tára’s warlike multitude, Strong Vinata with all his band Betook him to the eastern land, And brave Susheṇ in eager quest Sped swiftly to the gloomy west. Each Vánar chieftain sought with speed The quarter by his king decreed, While from his legions rose on high The shout and boast and battle cry: “We will restore the dame and beat The robber down beneath our feet. My arm alone shall win the day From Rávaṇ met in single fray, Shall rob the robber of his life, And rescue Ráma’s captive wife All trembling in her fear and woe. Here, comrades, rest: no farther go: For I will vanquish hell, and she Shall by this arm again be free. The rooted mountains will I rend, The mightiest trees will break and bend, Earth to her deep foundations cleave, And make the calm sea throb and heave. A hundred leagues from steep to steep In desperate bound my feet shall leap. My steps shall tread unchecked and free, Through woods, o’er land and hill and sea, Range as they list from flood to fell, And wander through the depths of hell.”