5in the midst of omens. 6ib-ba-šu-nim-ma ka-ka-’a[2] ša-ma-i 6And there came out stars in the heavens, 7ki-?-?-rum[3] ša a-nim im-ku-ut a-na ṣi-ri-i̭a 7Like a … of heaven he fell upon me. 8áš-ši-šu-ma ik-ta-bi-it[4] e-li-i̭a 8I bore him but he was too heavy for me. 9ilam[5] iš-šu-ma nu-uš-ša-šu[6] u-ul el-ti-’i̭ 9He bore a net but I was not able to bear it. 10ad-ki ma-tum pa-ḫi-ir[7] e-li-šu 10I summoned the land to assemble unto him, 11id-lu-tum ú-na-ša-ku ši-pi-šu 11that heroes might kiss his feet.

he had not been taught. 10ḫa-ri-im-lum pi-ša i-pu-ša-am- ma 10The hierodule opened her mouth 11iz-za-kar-am a-na iluEn-ki-dû 11and said unto Enkidu:— 12a-ku-ul ⁠ak-lam dEn-ki-dû 12“Eat bread, oh Enkidu! 13zi-ma-at ⁠ba-la-ṭi-im 13It is the conformity of life, 14bi-ši-ti ⁠ši-im-ti ma-ti 14of the conditions and the fate of the land.”

At home with a family [to dwell??] 15ši-ma-a-at ⁠ni-ši-i- ⁠ma 15is the fate of mankind. 16tu-ṣa[30]-ar pa-a-ta-tim[31] 16Thou shouldest design boundaries(??) 17a-na âli dup-šak-ki-i e ṣi-en 17for a city. The trencher-basket put (upon thy head).

She looks and longs for Ráma's face, But sees a crowd of demon race, And guarded by the giant's train Pines for her lord and weeps in vain, But Lanká founded on a steep Is girdled by the mighty deep, And how will Ráma know his fair And blameless wife is prisoned there? She on her woe will sadly brood And pine away in solitude, And heedless of herself, will cease To live, despairing of release. Yes, pondering on her fate, I see Her gentle life in jeopardy. Go, Indra, swiftly seek the place, And look upon her lovely face. Within the city make thy way: Let heavenly food her spirit stay.'    Thus Brahma, spake: and He who slew The cruel demon Páka, flew Where Lanká's royal city lay, And Sleep went with him on his way. 'Sleep,' cried the heavenly Monarch, 'close Each giant's eye in deep repose.'

Submit thee to the hermit's vow, The noblest gain from virtue springs, And virtue joy unending brings. All earthly blessings virtue sends: On virtue all the world depends. Those who with vow and fasting tame To due restraint the mind and frame, Win by their labour, nobly wise, The highest virtue for their prize. Pure in the hermit's grove remain, True to thy duty, free from stain. But the three worlds are open thrown To thee, by whom all things are known. Who gave me power that I should dare

It taints a monarch's son with shame, Ne'er to be heard from those who know The science of the sword and bow. My lord, the mother, sire, and son, Receive their lots by merit won; The brother and the daughter find The portions to their deeds aligned. The wife alone, whate'er await, Must share on earth her husband's fate. So now the king's command which sends Thee to the wild, to me extends. The wife can find no refuge, none, In father, mother, self, or son: Both here, and when they vanish hence, Her husband is her sole defence. If, Raghu's son, thy steps are led Where Dandak's pathless wilds are spread, My foot before thine own shall pass Through tangled thorn and matted grass. Dismiss thine anger and thy doubt: Like refuse water cast them out, And lead me, O my hero, hence-- I know not sin--with confidence. Whate'er his lot,'tis far more sweet To follow still a husband's feet Than in rich palaces to lie, Or roam at pleasure through the sky. My mother and my sire have taught What duty bids, and trained each thought, Nor have I now mine ear to turn The duties of a wife to learn, I'll seek with thee the woodland dell And pathless wild where no men dwell, Where tribes of silvan creatures roam, And many a tiger makes his home. My life shall pass as pleasant there As in my father's palace fair. The worlds shall wake no care in me; My only care be truth to thee. There while thy wish I still obey, True to my vows with thee I'll stray, And there shall blissful hours be spent In woods with honey redolent. In forest shades thy mighty arm Would keep a stranger's life from harm, And how shall Sitá think of fear When thou, O glorious lord, art near? Heir of high bliss, my choice is made, Nor can I from my will be stayed. Doubt not; the earth will yield me roots, These will I eat, and woodland fruits; And as with thee I wander there I will not bring thee grief or care. I long, when thou, wise lord, art nigh, All fearless, with delighted eye To gaze upon the rocky hill, The lake, the fountain, and the hill; To sport with thee, my limbs to cool, In some pure lily-covered pool, While the white swan's and mallard's wings

But touching now the safe return⁠Of King and gold-trickt host, My heart within me, doleful seer Of mischief, harrow'd is by fear,—⁠10 For all the martial strength is gone, Nurtured in Asia,—and doth yearn For our young hero; news is none; Nor horseman reacheth yet nor post⁠Our Persia's central home. But they forsaking Susa's walls, Agbatana and Kissia's hold, Right ancient, forth to battle sped, Some borne on steeds, in galleys some, Others in march, with measured tread,⁠War's serried ranks displayed

In olden time by Heaven's decree Fixed was the Persians' destiny;— Tower-battering war was theirs by Fate, The turmoil when steed-mounted foes In shock of battle fiercely close, And cities to make desolate. ⁠

O faithful of the faithful, ye whilome My youth's compeers, elders of Persia, say With what sore travail travaileth the state? The land, breast-smitten and with furrowed cheek,[25] Moaneth, and I, beholding near my tomb ⁠680 My consort, troubled am, but graciously Her offrings I received; ye also stand Lifting the dirge beside my sepulchre, And, shouting loud with shade-evoking strains, Piteously call me: but the upward path Lies not too open; for the gods below More ready are to seize than to let loose. Yet, rank among them holding, I am come; But haste, that time rebuke not my delay. What this new ill that weighs the Persians down?

Seven goblets. it-tap-šar kab-ta-tum i-na-an-gu His spirit was loosened, he became hilarious. 100i-li-iṣ libba-šú-ma His heart became glad and pa-nu-šú [it]-tam-ru His face shone. ul-tap-pi-it [lùŠÚ]-I [The barber(?)] removed šú-ḫu-ra-am pa-ga-ar-šú The hair on his body. šá-am-nam ip-ta-šá-áš-ma He was anointed with oil. 105a-we-li-iš i-we He became manlike. il-ba-áš li-ib-šá-am He put on a garment, ki-ma mu-ti i-ba-áš-ši He was like a man. il-ki ka-ak-ka-šú He took his weapon; la-bi ú-gi-ir-ri Lions he attacked, 110uš-sa-ak-pu re’ûti mu-ši-a-tim (so that) the night shepherds could res

The heroes rejoiced. šá-ki-in ur-šá-nu He became a leader. a-na itli šá i-šá-ru zi-mu-šú To the hero of fine appearance, 190a-na dGiš ki-ma i-li-im To Gish, like a god, šá-ki-iš-šum me-iḫ-rù He became a rival to him.[7] a-na dIš-ḫa-ra ma-a-a-lum For Ishḫara a couch na-di-i-ma Was stretched, and dGiš it-[ti-il-ma wa-ar-ka-tim] Gish [lay down, and afterwards(?)] 195i-na mu-ši in-ni-[ib-bi]-it In the night he fled. i-na-ag-šá-am-ma He approaches and it-ta-[zi-iz dEn-ki-dũ] i-na sûḳim [Enkidu stood] in the streets. ip-ta-ra-[aṣ a-la]-ak-tam He blocked the path šá dGiš of Gish. 200[a-na e-pi-iš] da-na-ni-iš-šú At the exhibit of his power,

Like [a god(?)] she brought him a-na gu-up-ri šá-ri-i-im To the fertile meadow, a-šar tar-ba-ṣi-im The place of the sheepfolds. 75i-na [áš]-ri-šú [im]-ḫu-ruri-ia-ú In that place they received food; [ù šú-u dEn-ki-dũ i-lit-ta-šú šá-du-um-ma] [For he, Enkidu, whose birthplace was the mountain,] [it-ti ṣabâti-ma ik-ka-la šam-ma] [With the gazelles he was accustomed to eat herbs,] [it-ti bu-lim maš-ḳa-a i-šat-ti] [With the cattle to drink water,] [it-ti na-ma-áš-te-e mê i-ṭab lib-ba-šú] [With the water beings he was happy.]

XERXES. Alas, the triple banks of oars and those who died thereby! CHORUS. Pass! I will lead you, bring you home, with many a broken sigh!