Then Indra, he whose fiery stroke
Slew furious Páka, turned and spoke:
'A glorious day, O chief, is this,
Rich with the fruit of lasting bliss.
Well pleased are we: we love thee well
Now speak, thy secret wishes tell.'
Thus spake the sovereign of the sky,
And this was Ráma's glad reply:
'If I have won your grace, incline
To grant this one request of mine.
Restore, O King: the Vánar dead
Whose blood for me was nobly shed.