254 HINDOO LITERATURE. 



butes of the various divinities, a description of the nume- 

 rous heavens and hells, forms of prayer and sacrifice, as 

 well as maxims and precepts of various kinds. They form, 

 in short, in the estimation of a Hindoo, an almost complete 

 repository of human and divine learning. 



Below the Puranas, in age as well as in dignity, rank the 

 two great epic narratives of the Mahabarat and Ramayana. 

 They have also a very different object. Heaven is the 

 sphere of the Vedas and the Puranas ; but these two cele- 

 brated poems mainly relate to beings of this earth, of whom 

 some have never been exalted to the honours of deity. 

 Rama, Krishna, Arjoona, Yadhisthur, Seeta, Droupadee, 

 are undoubtedly kings, heroes, and ladies, who really flour- 

 ished during a memorable period of Indian history, com- 

 prised in the cali yug, or the age which is now revolving. 

 The narrative, however, is illumined by only a very faint 

 gleam of historical light. The human actors are blended 

 with others of a singular description ; birds and beasts pos- 

 sessed of human and even divine attributes ; armies of 

 monkeys ; giants which vanquish and devour heroes, and 

 are again obliged to render them up ; and various other 

 natures equally incongruous and equally fabulous. These 

 works, though scarcely considered as inspired, bear a sacred 

 character. The composition too, while it indulges in a 

 bolder license than that of the Vedas and Puranas, contains 

 richer imagery, and is warmed by no inconsiderable share 

 of poetical fire. 



Poems having love for their theme are likewise numerous ; 

 and, though they do not lay claim to inspiration, are full of 

 supernatural incidents, and animated by that mythological 

 spirit which pervades all Hindoo compositions. The drama 

 of Sacontala or the Fatal Ring is the best known, and has 

 excited considerable admiration in Europe. It does not, 

 however, appear to us to breathe much of the genuine feeling 

 of nature or passion. No situation, no crisis however 

 striking, calls forth any natural burst of emotion. The 

 following declaration of love by the Prince Dushmanta, is 

 a mere string of fanciful conceits : — 



" Oh, god of love ! how can thy darts be so keen, since 

 they arc pointed with flowers '. Yes, I discover the reason 

 of their keenri'-ss ; — Chej axe tipped with the flames which 

 the wrath of Hara kindled, and which blaze at this moment 



