Said the sage, “Listen, O Lord, to my prayer: how am I to hymn Your praises? For immeasurable is Your glory and scant my wit, which is as insignificant as the flash of a fire-fly before the sun. I constantly glorify Ýr¶ RŒma (the Chief of Raghus), with a body dark as a string of blue lotuses, wearing a crown of matted locks on His head and clad in a hermit’s robes, and carrying a bow and arrow in His hands with a quiver fastened to His waist. The fire which consumes the thick forest of delusion, the sun that brings delight to the lotus-like saints, the lion who kills the herd of elephants in the form of demons, the hawk that kills the bird of metempsychosis, may He ever protect us. I extol Ýr¶ RŒma, whose eyes resemble the red lotus, who is elegantly dressed, who is a full moon to S¶tŒ’s Cakora like eyes, who is a cygnet disporting in the MŒnasa lake of Lord Ýiva’s heart and who has a broad chest and long arms. A Garu˛a to devour the serpent of doubt, the queller of despair induced by heated controversy, the uprooter of transmigration, the delighter of gods, the embodiment of compassion, may He ever protect us, I sing the praises of Ýr¶ RŒma, the reliever of earth’s burden, who is both with and without attributes, who is partial as well as impartial, who transcends knowledge, speech and the senses and has no compeer, nay, who is all-pure, all-comprehensive, faultless and unlimited. A veritable garden of wish-yielding trees to His devotees, who keeps away wrath, greed, pride and lust, who is most urbane in manners and the bridge to cross the ocean of mundane existence, may that champion of the solar race ever protect me. Matchless in power of arm, the home of strength, the armour for the protection of righteousness, endowed with a host of delightful virtues, may that RŒma whose very Name wipes out the greatest sins of the Kali age, be ever propitious to me. Even though He is passionless, all-pervading, imperishable and ever dwelling in the heart of all, let Him abide in my thoughts as the Slayer of Khara roaming about in the woods with His younger brother (Lakƒma˜a) and S¶tŒ. Let alone, my lord, those who know You to be both with and without attributes and the witness of all hearts. As for myself may Ýr¶ RŒma, the lotus-eyed Lord of Kosala, take up His abode in my heart. Let not this exalted feeling disappear from my mind even in an unguarded moment that I am His servant and the Lord of Raghus my master.” Ýr¶ RŒma was delighted at heart to hear the sage’s words, and in His delight He pressed the great sage to His bosom again. “Know Me to be supremely pleased, O sage; I am prepared to grant you any boon you may choose to ask.” The sage replied, “I have never asked any boon and know not what is real and what unreal (what to choose and what to reject). Therefore, O Delighter of Your devotees, grant me that which pleases You, O Lord of Raghus.” “May you become a repository of worldly wisdom and goodness as well as of intense devotion, dispassion and spiritual wisdom.” “I have received the boon that my Lord has been pleased to grant. 664 * ÝR” RMACARITAMNASA* Now vouchsafe to me that which is cherished by me.” (1—14)