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tyrannies, and they called a council in the mansion of Brahma to consider how the earth could be relieved from such a fiend. To this council came the “god Vishnu, riding on the eagle Vain-a-taya, like the sun on a cloud, and his discus and his mace in hand.” The other gods entreat him to give his aid, and he promises, in consequence, to be born on earth, and to accomplish the destruction of the terrific Ravana. Vishnu therefore became incarnated (his Seventh Avatar) as Rama or Ramchundra, and his life and exploits as the celebrated King of Ayodhya, form the subject of this, the earliest epic poem of India. According to this work, Rama was born as the son of Dasharatha, King of Ayodhya, the modern Oude. In early life Rama married Seeta, the lovely daughter of the King of Mithili. But domestic trouble, caused by the intrigues of his mother-in-law in behalf of her own son, caused Rama and Seeta to retire to the forests, and there they lived the lives of hermits for years, till the time for his action should come. While in this seclusion, Ravana, the demon King of Lanka, (Ceylon,) who had heard of the beauty of Seeta, resolved to steal her from Rama. Finding it in vain to hope to succeed without the aid of stratagem, he took with him an assistant sorcerer, disguised as a deer; and as Rama took great pleasure in the chase, it was not difficult for the deer to lure him from his cottage in pursuit. He did not leave his beloved Seeta without requesting Lakshman, his brother, to remain in charge; but the wily deer knew how to defeat his precaution, and, when transfixed by Rama's arrow, he cried out in the voice of Rama, “O, Lakshman, save me!” Seeta heard the cry, and entreated Lakshman to fly to his brother's rescue. He was unwilling to go, but yielded to her earnestness, and she was left alone. This being the state of affairs which Ravana desired, he now left his hiding-place, and came forward, disguised as an Ascetic Brahmin, in a red, threadbare garment, with a single tuft of hair upon his head, and three sticks and a pitcher in his hand. In the rich, glowing poetry all creation is represented as shuddering at his approach; birds, beasts, and flowers were motionless with dread; the summer wind ceased to breathe, and a shiver passed