'How, King,' cried Ráma, 'didst thou gain Thy lore of sea and hill and plain? 'I told thee how,' Sugríva, From Báli's arm Máyáví To Malaya's hill, and strove to save His life by hiding in the cave. I told how Báli sought, to kill His foe, the hollow of the hill;
Nor need I, King, again unfold The wondrous tale already told. Then, wandering forth, my way I took By many a town and wood and brook. I roamed the earth from place to place, Till, like a mirror's polished face, The whole broad disk, that lies between Its farthest bounds, mine eyes had seen.
I wandered first to eastern skies Where fairest trees rejoiced mine eyes, And many a cave and wooded hill Where lilies robed the lake and rill. There metal dyes that hill adorn Whence springs the sun to light the morn. There, too, I viewed the Milky sea, Where nymphs of heaven delight to be.
Then to the south I made my way From regions of the rising day, And roamed o'er Vindhya, where the breeze Is odorous of sandal trees. Still in my fear I found no rest: I sought the regions of the west, And gazed on Asta, where the sun Sinks when his daily course is run Then from that noblest hill I fled And to the northern country sped, Saw Himavánt 1 and Meru'Meru'sp, And stood beside the northern deep.
But when, by Báli's might oppressed, E'en in those wilds I could not rest, Came Hanumánwise and brave, And thus his prudent counsel gave: 'I told thee how Matanga 2 cursed Thy tyrant, that his head should burst In pieces, should be dare invade The precincts of that tranquil shade.
There may we dwell in peace and be From thy oppressor's malice free.' We went to Rishyamúka's, And spent our days secure from ill Where, with that curse upon his head, The cruel Báli durst not tread.'
