May he on whose left lap shines resplendent the daughter of the Mountain King and on whose head is the celestial stream; he on whose brow rests the crescent moon; he on whose throat is the stain of poison, and on whose breast lies the Serpent King; ash-smeared, chiefest of the gods and the eternal lord of all, the destroyer of the universe, the omnipresent, the auspicious, bright as the moon, the Lord Shankara, ever protect me!

May the splendour of Rama?s lotus-like face, which neither grew brighter at the prospect of his being installed on the throne of Ayodhya nor was saddened by the painful experience of exile to the forest, ever bring me sweet felicity!

I adore Rama, the lord of Raghu’s race, whose limbs are delicate and dark as the dark-blue lotus, who has Sita enthroned on his left side and who holds in his hands infallible arrows and a graceful bow.

Cleansing the mirror of my mind with the dust of the lotus feet of the holy guru, I tell of Rama’s spotless glory, the giver of the four rewards. Cleansing the mirror of my mind with the dust of the lotus feet of the holy guru, I tell of Rama’s spotless glory, the giver of the four rewards.

From the time when Rama returned home wedded, there were ever fresh rejoicings and jubilant music. The fourteen spheres were like mighty mountains on which clouds of merit poured showers of happiness.

Success, affluence and prosperity flowed like bounteous rivers into Avadh as into the ocean, and the noble citizens, men and women alike, were like jewel-clusters, altogether pure and priceless and of perfect beauty.

The splendour of the capital was beyond description; it seemed the final work of the Creator. Gazing of Ramachandra’s face, fair as the moon, the citizens were all perfectly happy.