He discharged a volley of lances, pikes, swords and scimitars as well as axes, bludgeons and stones, and other missiles and weapons of every description, terrible as a thunderbolt, and further rained down shafts in profusion. The sky was thickly covered with arrows on all sides, as though the clouds poured in torrents in the month of BhŒdrapada, when the constellation MaghŒ (the tenth in order of the twenty-seven Nakƒatras) is in the ascendant. The cries of “Seize, seize, kill, kill” filled every ear; but nobody knew who it was that struck them. Snatching up rocks and trees, the monkeys sprang into the air; but they could not see him and returned sore disappointed. Meanwhile by his delusive power MeghanŒda had turned every rugged valley, path and mountain cave into a veritable aviary of arrows. The monkeys were confounded and did not know where to turn. They felt helpless like so many Mandaras thrown into prison as it were by Indra. The son of the windgod, A˘gada, Nala, N¶la and all the other mighty heroes were completely discomfited by him. Again he assailed with his shafts Lakƒma˜a, Sugr¶va, and Vibh¶ƒa˜a and pierced their bodies through and through. Then he confronted the Lord of the Raghus Himself; the arrows he let fly turned into serpents even as they struck Ýr¶ RŒma. The Slayer of Khara, who is all-independent, infinite and immutable, the one without a second, was overpowered by the serpents’ coils. Like an actor, He plays many a part,—He, the one, ever-free and omnipotent Lord. It was in order to invest the battle with a glory of its own that the Lord allowed Himself to be bound by a snare of serpents, even though the gods were dismayed at this sight. (1—7)