BANDE MATARAM With many million ardent throats Singing thy praise with swelling notes With many million sturdy hands, Ready to smite thy foes with sharpen'd bands ; How art thou weak, when these are thine, Mother mine! Yes, might immense is thine! From throngs on throngs of ruthless foes, From perils dire and whelming woes, Defender and deliverer thou! To thee I bow ! Mother mine! Wisdom and Righteousness thou art I Thou sovereign spirit of the heart! And vital Air within ! Thou givest vigour to the arm, In every home, in every shrine, The image all adore is thine, Mother mine! Thou ten-armed Durga, whom fell demons fear! Thou lotus-ranging Lakshmi ever dear! Goddess of arts, bright Saraswati thou! To thee I bow! To thee I bow! O Fortune's Pow'r divine ! Faultlessly fair, Beyond compare, Rich with fine streams and fruits art thou Mother mine ! And to the breast devotion warm ; 303
