The demerits of the poem are obvious; there is no attempt to improve on the traditional narrative, though Vālin is honourably killed; the characters are as stereotyped as ever. The author, however, delights to overload and elaborate the theme; hyperbole marks every idea; his mythological knowledge is adequate to enable him to abound in conceits and plays on words, when he does not sink, as largely in Act III, to mere commonplace. The taste which invents the visit to the world of the moon and Sumeru is as deplorable as that which substitutes the dull dialogue between Jāmbavant and Jaṭāyu for the vigorous conversation of Jaṭāyu and Sampāti in the Mahāvīracarita. For dialogue in general Murāri has no taste at all, and what merit his work has lies entirely in the ability which he shows to handle the Sanskrit language and to frame sentences of harmonious sound in effective metrical forms. His knowledge of the lexica is obvious, while his love of the recondite in grammar has won him the fame of being used to illustrate rare forms by the author of the Siddhāntakaumudī. These linguistic merits have secured him the preference shown for him by modern taste. Nor indeed can his power of expression be justly denied: [481] dṛçyante madhumattakokilavadhūnirdhūtacūtān̄kura— prāgbhāraprasaratparāgasikatādurgās taṭībhūmayaḥ yāḥ kṛcchrād atilan̄ghya lubdhakabhayāt tair eva reṇūtkarair dhārāvāhibhir asti luptapadavīniḥçan̄kam eṇīkulam. ‘There are seen the towering slopes as of sand where the pollen tilts off from the mango shoots, shaken by the female cuckoos, maddened by the intoxication of spring; scarce can the antelopes in their fear of the hunter leap over them, but the dust which they raise in showers accords them security by concealing the path of their flight.’ The idea is certainly trivial enough, but the expression, which defies reproduction in English, is in its own way a masterpiece of effect. A pretty erotic verse is found in Act VII: [482] anena rambhoru bhavanmukhena: tuṣārabhānos tulayā dhṛtasya ūnasya nūnam pratipūraṇāya: tārā sphuranti pratimānakhaṇḍāh. ‘When the moon is placed in the scales, fair-limbed one, against thy face, assuredly it is found wanting, and to make good the deficit the stars must shine as make-weights.’ Not a bad example of more elaborate, yet graceful, eulogy is found in the following stanza: [483] gotre sākṣād ajani bhagavān eṣa yat padmayoniḥ çayyotthāyaṁ yad akhilam ahaḥ prīṇayanti dvirephān ekāgrāṁ yad dadhati bhagavaty uṣṇabhānau ca bhaktim tat prāpus te sutanu vadanaupamyam ambhoruhāṇi. ‘Since manifestly in their family has been born the blessed one, sprung from the lotus; since all day long they delight the bees as they rise from their bed; since their whole faith they devote to the blessed lord of the sharp rays, thus, O lovely one, the flowers that spring from the water attain the likeness of thy face.’ Happy also is another erotic stanza: [484]