55
And after him the rear to storm the banyan’s
Redoubt, sprang o’er the tufts of lapsed companions.
Now from the mighty figs’ dense vegetation,
Like desolating hail from dark clouds whistles
’Mid the besiegers an unwelcome ration
Of purple fig grenades and flintstone missiles.
The army wavered: round-eyed, mad with pain,
Fled many an ape from that remorseless rain;
And “The King’s wounded!” flew above the flying:
A well-aimed banyan fruit had burst in shivers
Upon that front of Mars, discharging rivers
Of blood-red juice, nose, cheek and eyeball dyeing.
Now all stream off like icicles in spring,
In panic flight past hope of rallying,
Till out of reach of these pain-dealing cobbles
The host discomforted together hobbles.
To serious counsel here in his pavilion
His band of generals Hanuman, vermilion
With fig juice and vexation ill-restrained,
Now summoned: “Had the ship brought ammunition,”
He cried, “our guns had blown them to perdition,
These chicken hearts, and not a shred remained:
But how with pikes and guns get at ’em—burk it!
That’s the weak link in our strategic circuit.”
“I know a way,” said Bhandragura, turning:
“Let’s doff our arms and cumbrous coats, and spurning
The load of boots which clog the foot’s play, free it,
Then to the banyan: all at once assail it,
And swift as lightning o’er lianas scale it—
This aery fort. My head shall guarantee it,
Once our superior force has stormed the Babel,
Our teeth and fists will soon despatch the rabble.”
