1876.] R S. Growse— The Prologue to tie Bdmdyana of Tutsi Bds. 11 



rough, it tells the glory of Sita and Rama, and will therefore he heard and 

 repeated with pleasure by sensible people. 



OlaupdL 

 A diamond in a serpent's head, a ruby on a mountain top, a pearl in 

 an elephant's head are all without beauty ; but in a king's diadem or on a 

 lovely woman they are lustrous in the extreme. Similarly, as wise men 

 tell, poetry is born below, but inspired from above ; for it is in answer to 

 pious prayer that the muse leaves her heavenly abode and speeds to earth ; 

 without immersion in the fountain of Rama's deeds, all labour and trouble 

 count for nothing. A sensible poet understands this, and sings only of 

 Hari, the redeemer, and his virtues. To recount the doings of common 

 people is mere idle beating of the head, which the muse loaths. Genius is 

 as it were a shell in the sea of the soul, waiting for the October rain of 

 Inspiration ; if a gracious shower falls, each drop is a pearl of poetry : 



Bold 16. 

 Then dexterously pierced and strung together on the thread of Rama's 

 adventures, they form a beautiful chain to be worn on a good man's 



breast. 



OlcmjctdL 

 Men born in this grim iron age are outwardly swans, but inwardly as 

 black as crows ; walking in evil paths, abandoning the Veda, embodiments 

 of falsehood, vessels of impurity, hypocrites, professing devotion to Rama f 

 but slaves of gold, of passion and of lust. Among them I give the first 

 place to myself, a hypocrite alas ! of the very first rank ; but were I to tell 

 all my vices, the list would so grow that it would have no end. I have 

 therefore said but very little, but a word is enough for the wise. Let none 

 of my hearers blame me for offering so many apologies ; whoever is trou- 

 bled in mind by them is more stupid and dull of wit than I am myself. 

 Though I am no poet and have no pretensions to cleverness, I sing as best 

 I can the virtues of Rama. How unfathomable his actions, how shallow 

 my poor world-entangled intellect ! Before the strong wind that could 

 uproot mount Meru, of what account is such a mere flock of cotton as I 

 am ? When I think of Rama's infinite majesty, I tremble as I write. 



Bold 17. 

 For Sarasvati, Sesh-nag, Siva and Brahma, the Shastras, the Veda, the 

 Puranas, all are unceasingly singing his perfection, yet fail to declare it. 



Claupdi* 

 All know the greatness of the Lord, yet none can refrain from repeat- 

 ing it. For this reason the Veda also has declared many different modes of 

 effectual worship. There is one God, passionless, formless, uncreated^ the 



