Ramayana on Anger

"Once in my strength and vigour's pride I roamed this earth from side to side, And towering like a mountain's crest, A thousand Nagas'(491) might possessed. Like some vast sable cloud I showed: My golden armlets flashed and glowed. A crown I wore, an axe I swayed, And all I met were sore afraid. I roved where Dandak wood is spread; On flesh of slaughtered saints I fed. Then Visvamitra, sage revered, Holy of heart, my fury feared. To Dasaratha's court he sped And went before the king and said:(492)

The loving speech Sugriva heard, And all his heart with woe was stirred. Remorse and gentle pity stole Each thought of triumph from his soul: Thus fades the light when Rahu(606) mars The glory of the Lord of Stars.(607) All angry thoughts were stayed and stilled And kindly love his bosom filled. His brother's word the chief obeyed And took the chain as Bali prayed. On little Angad standing nigh The dying hero fixed his eye, And, ready from this world to part, Spoke the fond utterance of his heart:

Their threats unfeared, their counsel spurned, The demons' breasts with fury burned. Some sought the giant king to bear The tale of Sita's fixt despair. With threats and taunts renewed the rest Around the weeping lady pressed. But Trijata, of softer mould, A Rakshas matron wise and old, With pity for the captive moved, In words like these the fiends reproved: "Me, me," she cried, "eat me, but spare The spouse of Dasaratha's heir. Last night I dreamt a dream; and still The fear and awe my bosom chill; For in that dream I saw foreshown Our race by Rama's hand o'erthrown. I saw a chariot high in air, Of ivory exceeding fair. A hundred steeds that chariot drew As swiftly through the clouds it flew, And, clothed in white, with wreaths that shone, The sons of Raghu rode thereon. I looked and saw this lady here, Clad in the purest white, appear High on the snow white hill whose feet The angry waves of ocean beat. And she and Rama met at last Like light and sun when night is past. Again I saw them side by side. On Ravan's car they seemed to ride, And with the princely Lakshman flee To northern realms beyond the sea. Then Ravan, shaved and shorn, besmeared With oil from head to foot, appeared. He quaffed, he raved: his robes were red: Fierce was his eye, and bare his head. I saw him from his chariot thrust; I saw him rolling in the dust. A woman came and dragged away The stricken giant where he lay, And on a car which asses drew The monarch of our race she threw. He rose erect, he danced and laughed, With thirsty lips the oil he quaffed, Then with wild eyes and streaming mouth Sped on the chariot to the south.(844) Then, dropping oil from every limb, His sons the princes followed him, And Kumbhakarna,(845) shaved and shorn, Was southward on a camel borne. Then royal Lanka reeled and fell With gate and tower and citadel. This ancient city, far-renowned: All life within her walls was drowned; And the wild waves of ocean rolled O'er Lanka and her streets of gold.

The Wind-God's son to Rama bore Deep-wounded Lakshman stained with gore. He whom no foe might lift or bend Was light as air to such a friend. The dart that Lakshman's side had cleft, Untouched, the hero's body left, And flashing through the air afar Resumed its place in Ravan's car; And, waxing well though wounded sore, He felt the deadly pain no more. And Ravan, though with deep wounds pained, Slowly his sense and strength regained, And furious still and undismayed On bow and shaft his hand he laid.

He ceased: he hurled the mortal dart By Maya forged with magic art. The spear, with all his fury flung, Swift, flickering like a serpent's tongue, Adorned with many a tinkling bell, Smote Lakshman, and the hero fell. When Rama saw, he heaved a sigh, A tear one moment dimmed his eye. But tender grief was soon repressed And thoughts of vengeance filled his breast. The air around him flashed and gleamed As from his bow the arrows streamed; And Lanka's lord, the foeman's dread, O'erwhelmed with terror turned and fled.

Then high Sugriva's spirit rose, Assured of conquest o'er his foes. With his new champion by his side To vast Kishkindha's cave he hied. Then, summoned by his awful shout, King Bali came in fury out, First comforted his trembling wife, Then sought Sugriva in the strife. One shaft from Rama's deadly bow The monarch in the dust laid low. Then Rama bade Sugriva reign In place of royal Bali slain. Then speedy envoys hurried forth Eastward and westward, south and north, Commanded by the grateful king Tidings of Rama's spouse to bring.

Then Rama nobly calm allayed The wrath that Lakshman's bosom swayed: "What need have we the sword to wield, To bend the bow or lift the shield, If Bharat brave, and wise, and good, Himself has sought this sheltering wood? I sware my father's will to do, And if I now my brother slew What gain in kingship should I find, Despised and scorned by all mankind? Believe me, e'en as I would shrink From poisoned meat or deadly drink, No power or treasure would I win By fall of friend or kith or kin. Brother, believe the words I speak: For your dear sakes alone I seek Duty and pleasure, wealth and gain: A holy life, a happy reign. If royal sway my heart desires, My brothers' weal the wish inspires: Their bliss and safety is my care, By this uplifted bow I swear. 'Twere not so hard for me to gain This broad land girdled by the main, But even Indra's royal might Should ne'er be mine in duty's spite. If any bliss my soul can see Deprived of dear Satrughna, thee, And Bharat, may the flame destroy With ashy gloom the selfish joy. Far dearer than this life of mine, Knowing the custom of our line, His heart with fond affection fraught, Bharat Ayodhya's town resought And hearing when he came that I, With thee and Sita, forced to fly With matted hair and hermit dress Am wandering in the wilderness. While grief his troubled senses storms, And tender love his bosom warms, From every thought of evil clear, Is come to meet his brother here. Some grievous words perchance he spoke Kaikeyi's anger to provoke, Then won the king, and comes to lay Before my feet the royal sway. Hither, methinks, in season due Comes Bharat for an interview, Nor in his secret heart has he One evil thought 'gainst thee or me. What has he done ere now, reflect! How failed in love or due respect To make thee doubt his faith and lay This evil to his charge to-day? Thou shouldst not join with Bharat's name So harsh a speech and idle blame. The blows thy tongue at Bharat deals, My sympathizing bosom feels.

When Rama saw the giant nigh, On foot, alone, with mace reared high, In mild reproof at first he spoke, Then forth his threatening anger broke: "Thou with the host 'twas thine to lead, With elephant and car and steed, Hast wrought an act of sin and shame, An act which all who live must blame. Know that the wretch whose evil mind Joys in the grief of human kind, Though the three worlds confess him lord, Must perish dreaded and abhorred. Night-rover, when a villain's deeds Distress the world he little heeds, Each hand is armed his life to take, And crush him like a deadly snake. The end is near when men begin Through greed or lust a life of sin, E'en as a Brahman's dame, unwise, Eats of the fallen hail(475) and dies. Thy hand has slain the pure and good, The hermit saints of Dandak wood, Of holy life, the heirs of bliss; And thou shalt reap the fruit of this. Not long shall they whose cruel breasts Joy in the sin the world detests Retain their guilty power and pride, But fade like trees whose roots are dried. Yes, as the seasons come and go, Each tree its kindly fruit must show, And sinners reap in fitting time The harvest of each earlier crime. As those must surely die who eat Unwittingly of poisoned meat, They too whose lives in sin are spent Receive ere long the punishment. And know, thou rover of the night, That I, a king, am sent to smite The wicked down, who court the hate Of men whose laws they violate. This day my vengeful hand shall send Shafts bright with gold to tear and rend, And pass with fury through thy breast As serpents pierce an emmet's nest. Thou with thy host this day shalt be Among the dead below, and see The saints beneath thy hand who bled, Whose flesh thy cruel maw has fed. They, glorious on their seats of gold, Their slayer shall in hell behold. Fight with all strength thou callest thine, Mean scion of ignoble line, Still, like the palm-tree's fruit, this day My shafts thy head in dust shall lay."

She bade thee seek my side to aid, And quickly was the hest obeyed, But ah, thy fault I needs must blame, To leave alone the helpless dame, And let the cruel giants sate The fury of their murderous hate. Those blood-devouring demons all Grieve in their souls for Khara's fall, And Sita, none to guard her side, Torn by their cruel hands has died. I sink, O tamer of thy foes, Deep in the sea of whelming woes. What can I now? I must endure The mighty grief that mocks at cure."

Then Rama spoke: "O friend, relate Whence sprang fraternal strife and hate, That duly taught by thee, I may Each foeman's strength and weakness weigh: And skilled in every chance restore The blissful state thou hadst before. For, when I think of all the scorn And bitter woe thou long hast borne, My soul indignant swells with pain Like waters flushed with furious rain. Then, ere I string this bended bow, Tell me the tale I long to know, Ere from the cord my arrow fly, And low in death thy foeman lie."

He heard, and from his watery shroud, As bursts the sun from autumn cloud, Rose swifty, crowned with plant and tree, And stood above the foamy sea.(790) There with his lofty peaks upraised Bright as a hundred suns he blazed, And crest and crag of burnished gold Flashed on the flood that round him rolled. The Vanar thought the mountain rose A hostile bar to interpose, And, like a wind-swept cloud, o'erthrew The glittering mountain as he flew. Then from the falling hill rang out A warning voice and joyful shout. Again he raised him high in air To meet the flying Vanar there, And standing on his topmost peak In human form began to speak:(791) "Best of the Vanars' noblest line, A mighty task, O chief, is thine. Here for a while, I pray thee, light And rest upon the breezy height. A prince of Raghu's line was he Who gave his glory to the Sea,(792) Who now to Rama's envoy shows High honour for the debt he owes. He bade me lift my buried head Uprising from my watery bed, And woo the Vanar chief to rest A moment on my glittering crest. Refresh thy weary limbs, and eat My mountain fruits for they are sweet. I too, O chieftain, know thee well; Three worlds thy famous virtues tell; And none, I ween, with thee may vie Who spring impetuous through the sky. To every guest, though mean and low. The wise respect and honour show; And how shall I neglect thee, how Slight the great guest so near me now? Son of the Wind, 'tis thine to share The might of him who shakes the air; And,--for he loves his offspring,--he Is honoured when I honour thee. Of yore, when Krita's age(793) was new, The little hills and mountains flew Where'er they listed, borne on wings More rapid than the feathered king's.(794) But mighty terror came on all The Gods and saints who feared their fall. And Indra in his anger rent Their pinions with the bolts he sent. When in his ruthless fury he Levelled his flashing bolt at me, The great-souled Wind inclined to save, And laid me neath the ocean's wave.

The monarch frowned, by passion moved And thus in angry words reproved: "Wilt thou thine elder brother school, Forgetful of the ancient rule That bids thee treat him as the sage Who guides thee with the lore of age? Think on the dangers of the day, Nor idly throw thy words away: If, led astray, by passion stirred, I in the pride of power have erred; If deeds of old were done amiss, No time for vain reproach is this. Up, brother; let thy loving care The errors of thy king repair."

He ceased: the ascetic dame replied: "Well, Vanars, am I satisfied. A life of holy works I lead, And from your hands no service need." Then spake again the Vanar chief: "We came to thee and found relief. Now listen to a new distress, And aid us, holy votaress. Our wanderings in this vasty cave Exhaust the time Sugriva gave. Once more then, lady, grant release, And let thy suppliants go in peace Again upon their errand sped, For King Sugriva's ire we dread. And the great task our sovereign set, Alas, is unaccomplished yet."

Then Rama cried: "I little heed Gigantic strength or doughty deed. In spite of all their might has done The king, the captain, and the son Shall fall beneath my fury dead, And thou shalt reign in Ravan's stead. He, though in depths of earth he dwell, Or seek protection down in hell, Or kneel before the Sire supreme, His forfeit life shall ne'er redeem. Yea, by my brothers' lives I swear, I will not to my home repair Till Ravan and his kith and kin Have paid in death the price of sin."

A while he lay: he rose at length, And slowly gathering sense and strength, With angry eyes which tears bedewed, The miserable queen he viewed, And spake with keen reproach to her Before each lord and minister: "No lust have I for kingly sway, My mother I no more obey: Naught of this consecration knew Which Dasaratha kept in view. I with Satrughna all the time Was dwelling in a distant clime: I knew of Rama's exile naught, That hero of the noble thought: I knew not how fair Sita went, And Lakshman, forth to banishment."

Then Raghu's son, the good and brave, With a gay laugh his answer gave: "These shafts of mine which ne'er can fail, Before whose sheen the sun grows pale, Winged by my fury, fleet and fierce, The wicked Bali's heart shall pierce. Yea, mark the words I speak, so long Shall live that wretch who joys in wrong, Until these angered eyes have seen The robber of thy darling queen. I, taught by equal suffering, know What waves of grief above thee flow. This hand thy captive wife shall free, And give thy kingdom back to thee."

The Vanar watched concealed: each word Of Sita and the fiends he heard, And in a maze of anxious thought His quick-conceiving bosom wrought. "At length my watchful eyes have seen, Pursued so long, the Maithil queen, Sought by our Vanar hosts in vain From east to west, from main to main. A cautious spy have I explored The palace of the Rakhshas lord, And thoroughly learned, concealed from sight, The giant monarch's power and might. And now my task must be to cheer The royal dame who sorrows here. For if I go, and soothe her not, A captive in this distant spot, She, when she finds no comfort nigh, Will sink beneath her woes and die. How shall my tale, if unconsoled I leave her, be to Rama told? How shall I answer Raghu's son, "No message from my darling, none?" The husband's wrath, to fury fanned, Will scorch me lifeless where I stand, Or if I urge my lord the king To Lanka's isle his hosts to bring, In vain will be his zeal, in vain The toil, the danger, and the pain. Yea, this occasion must I seize That from her guard the lady frees,(846) To win her ear with soft address And whisper hope in dire distress. Shall I, a puny Vanar, choose The Sanskrit men delight to use? If, as a man of Brahman kind, I speak the tongue by rules refined, The lady, yielding to her fears, Will think 'tis Ravan's voice she hears. I must assume my only plan-- The language of a common(847) man. Yet, if the lady sees me nigh, In terror she will start and cry; And all the demon band, alarmed, Will come with various weapons armed, With their wild shouts the grove will fill, And strive to take me, or to kill. And, at my death or capture, dies The hope of Rama's enterprise. For none can leap, save only me, A hundred leagues across the sea. It is a sin in me, I own, To talk with Janak's child alone. Yet greater is the sin if I Be silent, and the lady die. First I will utter Rama's name, And laud the hero's gifts and fame. Perchance the name she holds so dear Will soothe the faithful lady's fear."

"I cannot, peerless one, contain Mine anger at this high disdain, Galling as salt when sprinkled o'er The rawness of a bleeding sore. Rama in little count I hold, Weak man whose days are quickly told. The caitiff with his life to-day For all his evil deeds shall pay. Dry, sister, dry each needless tear, Stint thy lament and banish fear, For Rama and his brother go This day to Yama's realm below. My warrior's axe shall stretch him slain, Ere set of sun, upon the plain, Then shall thy sated lips be red With his warm blood in torrents shed."

When Dushan saw his giant band Slaughtered by Rama's conquering hand, He called five thousand fiends, and gave His orders. Bravest of the brave, Invincible, of furious might, Ne'er had they turned their backs in flight. They, as their leader bade them seize Spears, swords, and clubs, and rocks, and trees, Poured on the dauntless prince again A ceaseless shower of deadly rain. The virtuous Rama, undismayed, Their missiles with his arrows stayed, And weakened, ere it fell, the shock Of that dire hail of tree and rock, And like a bull with eyelids closed, The pelting of the storm opposed.

"Say to what quarter of the sky The cruel fiend was seen to fly, Bearing afar my captured wife, My darling dearer than my life. Speak, Vanar King, that I may know Where dwells the cause of all my woe; The fiend for whose transgression all The giants by this hand shall fall. He who the Maithil lady stole And kindled fury in my soul, Has sought his fate in senseless pride And opened Death's dark portal wide. Then tell me, Vanar lord, I pray, The dwelling of my foe, And he, beneath this hand, to-day To Yama's halls shall go."

Loud was the roar the demons raised Mid walls that split and beams that blazed, As each with vain endeavour strove To stay the flames in house or grove. The women, with dishevelled hair, Flocked to the roofs in wild despair, Shrieked out for succour, wept aloud, And fell, like lightning from a cloud. He saw the flames ascend and curl Round turkis, diamond, and pearl, While silver floods and molten gold From ruined wall and latice rolled. As fire grows fiercer as he feeds On wood and grass and crackling reeds, So Hanuman the ruin eyed With fury still unsatisfied.

Swift through the air the missile sang: The giant from the chariot sprang, Ere crushed by that terrific blow Lay pole and wheel and flag and bow. Hanuman's eyes with fury blazed: A mountain's rocky peak he raised, Poised it on high in act to throw, And rushed upon his giant foe. Dhumraksha saw: he raised his mace And smote Hanuman on the face, Who maddened by the wound's keen pang Again upon his foeman sprang; And on the giant's head the rock Descended with resistless shock. Crushed was each limb: a shapeless mass He lay upon the blood-stained grass.

Then on his wife his fury burst, And thus the guilty dame he cursed: "For countless years, disloyal spouse, Devoted to severest vows, Thy bed the ashes, air thy food, Here shalt thou live in solitude. This lonely grove thy home shall be, And not an eye thy form shall see. When Rama, Dasaratha's child, Shall seek these shades then drear and wild, His coming shall remove thy stain, And make the sinner pure again. Due honour paid to him, thy guest, Shall cleanse thy fond and erring breast, Thee to my side in bliss restore, And give thy proper shape once more."(218)

Another, Vikata by name, In words like these addressed the dame: "The king whose blows, in fury dealt, The Nagas(840) and Gandharvas(841) felt, In battle's fiercest brunt subdued, Has stood by thee and humbly wooed. And wilt thou in thy folly miss The glory of a love like this? Scared by his eye the sun grows chill, The wanderer wind is hushed and still. The rains at his command descend, And trees with new-blown blossoms bend. His word the hosts of demons fear, And wilt thou, dame, refuse to hear? Be counselled; with his will comply, Or, lady, thou shalt surely die."

Thus spoke the king in stern reproof; Then mounted to his palace roof Aloft o'er many a story raised, And on the lands beneath him gazed. There by his faithful spies he stood And looked on sea and hill and wood. There stretched before him far away The Vanars' numberless array: Scarce could the meadows' tender green Beneath their trampling feet be seen. He looked a while with furious eye, Then questioned thus the nearer spy: "Bend, Saran, bend thy gaze, and show The leaders of the Vanar foe. Tell me their heroes' names, and teach The valour, power and might of each."

While thus the high-souled monarch spoke To the stern queen, the Morning broke, And holy night had slowly fled, With moon and stars engarlanded. Yet once again the cruel queen Spoke words in answer fierce and keen, Still on her evil purpose bent, Wild with her rage and eloquent: "What speech is this? Such words as these Seem sprung from poison-sown disease. Quick to thy noble Rama send And bid him on his sire attend. When to my son the rule is given; When Rama to the woods is driven; When not a rival copes with me, From chains of duty thou art free."

Enraged he heard the monster woo; His ready sword he swiftly drew, And the sharp steel that quelled his foes Cut through her breast and ear and nose. Thus mangled by his vengeful sword In rage and pain the demon roared, And hideous with her awful face Sped to her secret dwelling place. Soon as the fiend had fled from sight, The brothers, dauntless in their might, Reached a wild forest dark and dread Whose tangled ways were hard to tread. Then bravest Lakshman, virtuous youth, The friend of purity and truth, With reverent palm to palm applied Thus to his glorious brother cried:

He deemed that fear checked ocean's king, And, like an arrow from the string, To the wild woods that clothe the side Of Lord Himalaya's hills he hied. Then Dundubhi, with hideous roar, Huge fragments from the summit tore Vast as Airavat,(569) white with snow, And hurled them to the plains below. Then like a white cloud soft, serene, The Lord of Mountains' form was seen. It sat upon a lofty crest, And thus the furious fiend addressed: "Beseems thee not, O virtue's friend, My mountain tops to rive and rend; For I, the hermit's calm retreat, For deeds of war am all unmeet."

Then every lovely tree that bore Fair blossoms, from the soil he tore, Till each green bough that lent its shade To singing birds on earth was laid. The wilderness he left a waste, The fountains shattered and defaced: O'erthrew and levelled with the ground Each shady seat and pleasure-mound. Each arbour clad with climbing bloom, Each grotto, cell, and picture room, Each lawn by beast and bird enjoyed, Each walk and terrace was destroyed. And all the place that was so fair Was left a ruin wild and bare, As if the fury of the blast Or raging fire had o'er it passed.

The Rakshas monarch, thus addressed, His hands a while together pressed, And straight before her startled eyes Stood monstrous in his giant size. Then to the lady, with the lore Of eloquence, he spoke once more: "Thou scarce," he cried, "hast heard aright The glories of my power and might. I borne sublime in air can stand And with these arms upheave the land, Drink the deep flood of Ocean dry And Death with conquering force defy, Pierce the great sun with furious dart And to her depths cleave earth apart. See, thou whom love and beauty blind, I wear each form as wills my mind."

He spoke. Sugriva raised a cry That shook and rent the echoing sky, A shout so fierce and loud and dread That stately bulls in terror fled, Like dames who fly from threatened stain In some ignoble monarch's reign. The deer in wild confusion ran Like horses turned in battle's van. Down fell the birds, like Gods who fall When merits fail,(578) at that dread call. So fiercely, boldened for the fray, The offspring of the Lord of Day Sent forth his furious shout as loud As thunder from a labouring cloud, Or, where the gale blows fresh and free, The roaring of the troubled sea.

Then leapt on high the flickering flame And shone in answer to the dame. The pitying fire its rage forbore: The Vanar felt the heat no more. Then, to minutest size reduced, The bonds that bound his limbs he loosed, And, freed from every band and chain, Rose to his native size again. He seized a club of ponderous weight That lay before him by the gate, Rushed at the fiends that hemmed him round, And laid them lifeless on the ground. Through Lanka's town again he strode, And viewed each street and square and road,-- Still wreathed about with harmless blaze, A sun engarlanded with rays.

Responsive to his call rang out A loud, a universal shout, As myriads filled the moat with stone, Trees, rocks, and mountains overthrown, And charging at their leader's call Pressed forward furious to the wall. Some in their headlong ardour scaled The rampart's height, the guard assailed, And many a ponderous fragment rent From portal, tower, and battlement. Huge gates adorned with burnished gold Were loosed and lifted from their hold; And post and pillar, with a sound Like thunder, fell upon the ground. At every portal, east and west And north and south, the chieftains pressed Each in his post appointed led His myriads in the forest bred.

The groans and cries of dames who wailed The ears of Lanka's lord assailed, For from each house and home was sent The voice of weeping and lament. In troubled thought his head he bowed, Then fiercely loosing on the crowd Of nobles near his throne he broke The silence, and in fury spoke: "This day my deadly shafts shall fly, And Raghu's sons shall surely die. This day shall countless Vanars bleed And dogs and kites and vultures feed. Go, bid them swift my car prepare, Bring the great bow I long to bear: And let my host with sword and shield And spear be ready for the field."

The pious king, with grief distressed, The noble hundred thus addressed: "With patience, daughters, bear your fate, Yours was a deed supremely great When with one mind you kept from shame The honour of your father's name. Patience, when men their anger vent, Is woman's praise and ornament; Yet when the Gods inflict the blow Hard is it to support the woe. Patience, my girls, exceeds all price: 'Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice. Patience is virtue, patience fame: Patience upholds this earthly frame. And now, I think, is come the time To wed you in your maiden prime. Now, daughters, go where'er you will: Thoughts for your good my mind shall fill."

Low in the dust he saw her lie, And Khara's wrath grew fierce and high. Aloud he cried to her who came Disgracefully with baffled aim: "I sent with thee at thy request The bravest of my giants, best Of all who feed upon the slain: Why art thou weeping here again? Still to their master's interest true, My faithful, noble, loyal crew, Though slaughtered in the bloody fray, Would yet their monarch's word obey. Now I, my sister, fain would know The cause of this thy fear and woe, Why like a snake thou writhest there, Calling for aid in wild despair. Nay, lie not thus in lowly guise: Cast off thy weakness and arise!"

Still was the cry, "The Vanar foes Around the leaguered city close." King Ravan from the terrace gazed And saw, with eyes where fury blazed, The Vanar host in serried ranks Press to the moat and line the banks, And, first in splendour and in place, The lion lord of Raghu's race. And Rama looked on Lanka where Gay flags were streaming to the air, And, while keen sorrow pierced him through, His loving thoughts to Sita flew: "There, there in deep affliction lies My darling with the fawn-like eyes. There on the cold bare ground she keeps Sad vigil and for Rama weeps." Mad with the thought, "Charge, charge," he cried. "Let earth with Rakshas blood be dyed."

Now Dasaratha's pious mind Meet wedlock for his sons designed; With priests and friends the king began To counsel and prepare his plan. Such thoughts engaged his bosom, when, To see Ayodhya's lord of men, A mighty saint of glorious fame, The hermit Visvamitra(138) came. For evil fiends that roam by night Disturbed him in each holy rite, And in their strength and frantic rage Assailed with witcheries the sage. He came to seek the monarch's aid To guard the rites the demons stayed, Unable to a close to bring One unpolluted offering. Seeking the king in this dire strait He said to those who kept the gate: "Haste, warders, to your master run, And say that here stands Gadhi's son."

So far she spake by rage impelled, And then the queen deep silence held. He heard her speech full fraught with ill, But spoke no word bewildered still, Gazed on his love once held so dear Who spoke unlovely rede to hear; Then as he slowly pondered o'er The queen's resolve and oath she swore. Once sighing forth, Ah Rama! he Fell prone as falls a smitten tree. His senses lost like one insane, Faint as a sick man weak with pain, Or like a wounded snake dismayed, So lay the king whom earth obeyed. Long burning sighs he slowly heaved, As, conquered by his woe, he grieved, And thus with tears and sobs between His sad faint words addressed the queen:

Loving his friends with heart and soul, The joyful prince received the whole, Due honour to the envoys paid, And thus in turn his answer made: "Of Dasaratha tidings tell: Is the old king my father well? Is Rama, and is Lakshman, he Of the high-soul, from sickness free? And she who walks where duty leads, Kausalya, known for gracious deeds, Mother of Rama, loving spouse, Bound to her lord by well kept vows? And Lakshman's mother too, the dame Sumitra skilled in duty's claim, Who brave Satrughna also bare, Second in age,--her health declare. And she, in self-conceit most sage, With selfish heart most prone to rage, My mother, fares she well? has she Sent message or command to me?"

He ceased: the tyrant's eyeballs blazed With fury as his voice he raised: "No, if the dwellers of the sky, Gandharvas, fiends assail me, I Will keep the Maithil lady still, Nor yield her back for fear of ill. When shall my shafts with iron hail My foeman, Raghu's son, assail, Thick as the bees with eager wing Beat on the flowery trees of spring? O, let me meet my foe at length, And strip him of his vaunted strength, Fierce as the sun who shines afar Stealing the light of every star. Strong as the sea's impetuous might My ways are like the tempest's flight; But Rama knows not this, or he In terror from my face would flee."

But Visvamitra, at the threat Of that illustrious anchoret, Cried, as he launched with ready hand A fiery weapon, "Stand, O Stand!" Vasishtha, wild with rage and hate, Raising, as 'twere the Rod of Fate, His mighty Brahman wand on high, To Visvamitra made reply: "Nay, stand, O Warrior thou, and show What soldier can, 'gainst Brahman foe. O Gadhi's son, thy days are told; Thy pride is tamed, thy dart is cold. How shall a warrior's puissance dare With Brahman's awful strength compare? To-day, base Warrior, shall thou feel That God-sent might is more than steel." He raised his Brahman staff, nor missed The fiery dart that near him hissed: And quenched the fearful weapon fell, As flame beneath the billow's swell.

Trisanku's speech the hundred heard, And thus replied, to anger stirred: "Why foolish King, by him denied, Whose truthful lips have never lied, Dost thou transgress his prudent rule, And seek, for aid, another school?(235) Ikshvaku's sons have aye relied Most surely on their holy guide: Then how dost thou, fond Monarch, dare Transgress the rule his lips declare? "Thy wish is vain," the saint replied, And bade thee cast the plan aside. Then how can we, his sons, pretend In such a rite our aid to lend? O Monarch, of the childish heart, Home to thy royal town depart. That mighty saint, thy priest and guide, At noblest rites may well preside: The worlds for sacrifice combined A worthier priest could never find."

The nurse, with transport uncontrolled, Her glad tale to the hump-back told: "Our lord the king to-morrow morn Will consecrate his eldest-born, And raise, in Pushya's favouring hour, Prince Rama to the royal power." As thus the nurse her tidings spoke, Rage in the hump-back's breast awoke. Down from the terrace, like the head Of high Kailasa's hill, she sped. Sin in her thoughts, her soul aflame, Where Queen Kaikeyi slept, she came: "Why sleepest thou?" she cried, "arise, Peril is near, unclose thine eyes. Ah, heedless Queen, too blind to know What floods of sin above thee flow! Thy boasts of love and grace are o'er: Thine is the show and nothing more. His favour is an empty cheat, A torrent dried by summer's heat."

By slow degrees the Vanars' lord Felt life and sense and strength restored. He heard the giants' joyful boast: He thought upon his Vanar host. His teeth and feet he fiercely plied, And bit and rent the giant's side, Who, mad with pain and smeared with gore, Hurled to the ground the load he bore. Regardless of a storm of blows Swift to the sky the Vanar rose, Then lightly like a flying ball High overleapt the city wall, And joyous for deliverance won Regained the side of Raghu's son. And Kumbhakarna, mad with hate And fury, sallied from the gate, The carnage of the foe renewed And filled his maw with gory food. Slaying, with headlong frenzy blind, Both Vanar foes and giant kind.

But in the monarch's palace, when Sped from the bower that lord of men, Up from the weeping women went A mighty wail and wild lament: "Ah, he who ever freely did His duty ere his sire could bid, Our refuge and our sure defence, This day will go an exile hence, He on Kausalya loves to wait Most tender and affectionate, And as he treats his mother, thus From childhood has he treated us. On themes that sting he will not speak, And when reviled is calm and meek. He soothes the angry, heals offence: He goes to-day an exile hence. Our lord the king is most unwise, And looks on life with doting eyes, Who in his folly casts away The world's protection, hope, and stay."

Thus king Sugriva, good and brave, In humble words his answer gave, Softened was Lakshman's angry mood Who thus his friendly speech renewed: "My brother, Vanar King, will see A champion and a friend in thee. So strong art thou, so brave and bold, So pure in thought, so humble-souled, That thou deservest well to reign And all a monarch's bliss to gain. Lend thou my brother aid, and all His foes beneath his arm will fall. Full well the words thou speakest suit A chieftain wise and resolute. With grateful heart that loves the right, And foot that never yields in fight. O come, and my sad brother cheer Who mourns the wife he holds so dear. O pardon, friend, my harsh address, And Rama's frantic bitterness."

Brave Rama, burning still to know The station of his artful foe, Gave to ten chieftains, mid the best Of all the host, his high behest. Swift rose in air the Vanar band: Each region of the sky they scanned: But Ravan's son by magic skill Checked them with arrows swifter still, When streams of blood from chest and side The dauntless Vanars' limbs had dyed, The giant in his misty shroud Showed like the sun obscured by cloud. Like serpents hissing through the air, His arrows smote the princely pair; And from their limbs at every rent A stream of rushing blood was sent. Like Kinsuk trees they stood, that show In spring their blossoms' crimson glow. Then Indrajit with fury eyed Ikshvaku's royal sons, and cried:

A stately ship, at early morn, The hermit's son away had borne. Loud roared the clouds, as on he sped, The sky grew blacker overhead; Till, as he reached the royal town, A mighty flood of rain came down. By the great rain the monarch's mind The coming of his guest divined. To meet the honoured youth he went, And low to earth his head he bent. With his own priest to lead the train, He gave the gift high guests obtain. And sought, with all who dwelt within The city walls, his grace to win. He fed him with the daintiest fare, He served him with unceasing care, And ministered with anxious eyes Lest anger in his breast should rise; And gave to be the Brahman's bride His own fair daughter, lotus-eyed.

He hastened then with graceful ease That mighty bow and shaft to seize. His hand the weapon strung and swayed: The arrow on the string was laid. Then Jamadagni's son he eyed, And thus in words of fury cried: "Thou art a Brahman, still to be Most highly honoured, Chief, by me. For Visvamitra's sake beside Shall reverence due be ne'er denied. Though mine the power, I would not send A dart at thee thy life to end. But thy great power to wander free, Which penance-rites have won for thee, Or glorious worlds from thee to wrest, Is the firm purpose of my breast, And Vishnu's dart which now I strain Can ne'er be shot to fall in vain: It strikes the mighty, and it stuns The madness of the haughty ones."

He spoke, and Rama, just and brave, Whose pious soul to virtue clave, Smiled as in conscious might he eyed The king of Vanars, and replied: "Best fruit of friendship is the deed That helps the friend in hour of need; And this mine arm in death shall lay Thy robber ere the close of day. For see, these feathered darts of mine Whose points so fiercely flash and shine, And shafts with golden emblem, came From dark woods known by Skanda's name,(561) Winged from the pinion of the hern Like Indra's bolts they strike and burn. With even knots and piercing head Each like a furious snake is sped; With these, to-day, before thine eye Shall, like a shattered mountain, lie Bali, thy dread and wicked foe, O'erwhelmed in hideous overthrow."

The giants heard their monarch's speech; And, filled with burning fury, each Brought strips of cotton cloth, and round The monkey's tail the bandage wound. As round his tail the bands they drew His mighty form dilating grew Vast as the flame that bursts on high Where trees are old and grass is dry. Each band and strip they soaked in oil, And set on fire the twisted coil. Delighted as they viewed the blaze, The cruel demons stood at gaze: And mid loud drums and shells rang out The triumph of their joyful shout. They pressed about him thick and fast As through the crowded streets he passed, Observing with attentive care Each rich and wondrous structure there, Still heedless of the eager cry That rent the air, The spy! the spy!

With joy they heard the words he said: Then with Sardula at their head About the giant king they went With circling paces reverent. By fair Suvela's grassy side The chiefs of Raghu's race they spied, Where, shaded by the waving wood, Vibhishan and Sugriva stood. A while they rested there and viewed The Vanars' countless multitude. Vibhishan with observant eyes Knew at a glance the giant spies, And bade the warriors of his train Bind the rash foes with cord and chain: "Sardula's is the sin," he cried. He neath the Vanars' hands had died, But Rama from their fury freed The captive in his utmost need, And, merciful at sight of woe, Loosed all the spies and bade them go. Then home to Lanka's monarch fled The giant chiefs discomfited.

The Brahman heard. In eager haste He bound his cloth around his waist. Then round his head his staff he whirled, And forth with mightiest effort hurled. Cast from his hand it flew, and sank To earth on Sarju's farther bank, Where herds of kine in thousands fed Near to the well-stocked bullock shed. And all the cows that wandered o'er The meadow, far as Sarju's shore, At Rama's word the herdsmen drove To Trijat's cottage in the grove. He drew the Brahman to his breast, And thus with calming words addressed: "Now be not angry, Sire. I pray: This jest of mine was meant in play. These thousand kine, but not alone. Their herdsmen too, are all thine own. And wealth beside I give thee: speak, Thine shall be all thy heart can seek."

Then Angad seized a shattered hill, Whereon the trees were flowering still, And with full force the jagged peak Fell crashing on the giant's cheek. He staggered, reeled, and fell: the blood Gushed from the giant in a flood. Reft of his might, each sense astray, A while upon the sand he lay. But strength and wandering sense returned Again his eyes with fury burned, And with his mace upraised on high He wounded Angad on the thigh. Then from his hand his mace he threw, And closer to his foeman drew. Then with their fists they fought, and smote On brow and cheek and chest and throat. Worn out with toil, their limbs bedewed, With blood, the strife they still renewed, Like Mercury and fiery Mars Met in fierce battle mid the stars.

Then Lakshman round his brother threw His mighty arms in honour due, Bent lowly down his reverent head, And onward to the battle sped. Hanuman from afar beheld How Ravan's shafts the Vanars quelled: To meet the giant's car he ran, Raised his right arm and thus began: "If Brahma's boon thy life has screened From Yaksha, God, Gandharva, fiend, With these contending fear no ill, But tremble at a Vanar still." With fury flashing from his eye The lord of Lanka made reply: "Strike, Vanar, strike: the fray begin, And hope eternal fame to win. This arm shall prove thee in the strife And end thy glory and thy life." "Remember," cried the Wind-God's son, "Remember all that I have done, My prowess, King, thou knowest well, Shown in the fight when Aksha(963) fell."

Thus as he spoke he lightly pressed With his broad hand the mountain's crest, Then bounded upward to the height Of heaven, rejoicing in his might, And through the fields of boundless blue, The pathway of his father, flew. Gods, saints, and heavenly bards beheld That flight that none had paralleled, Then to the Nagas' mother(795) came And thus addressed the sun-bright dame: "See, Hanuman with venturous leap Would spring across the mighty deep,-- A Vanar prince, the Wind-God's seed: Come, Surasa, his course impede. In Rakshas form thy shape disguise, Terrific, like a hill in size: Let thy red eyes with fury glow, And high as heaven thy body grow. With fearful tusks the chief defy, That we his power and strength may try. He will with guile thy hold elude, Or own thy might, by thee subdued."

Thus spoke the warrior, and prepared The mortal shaft which never spared, Known mystic weapon, by the name Of Brahma, red with quenchless flame. Great terror, as he strained the bow, Struck heaven above and earth below. Through echoing skies the thunder pealed, And startled mountains rocked and reeled, The earth was black with sudden night And heaven was blotted from the sight. Then ever and anon the glare Of meteors shot through murky air, And with a wild terrific sound Red lightnings struck the trembling ground. In furious gusts the fierce wind blew: Tall trees it shattered and o'erthrew, And, smiting with a giant's stroke, Huge masses from the mountain broke. A cry of terror long and shrill Came from each valley, plain, and hill. Each ruined dale, each riven peak Re-echoed with a wail or shriek.

They heard his voice: the flight was stayed; Again for war they stood arrayed, And hurled upon the foe a shower Of mountain peaks and trees in flower. Still on his limbs their missiles rained: Unmoved, their blows he still sustained, And seemed unconscious of the stroke When rocks against his body broke. Fierce as the flame when woods are dry He charged with fury in his eye. Like trees consumed with fervent heat They fell beneath the giant's feet. Some o'er the ground, dyed red with gore, Fled wild with terror to the shore, And, deeming that all hope was lost, Ran to the bridge they erst had crossed. Some clomb the trees their lives to save, Some sought the mountain and the cave; Some hid them in the bosky dell, And there in deathlike slumber fell.

He ceased: and Bali sore distressed The sovereign claims of law confessed, And freed, o'erwhelmed with woe and shame, The lord of Raghu's race from blame. Then, reverent palm to palm applied, To Rama thus the Vanar cried: "True, best of men, is every word That from thy lips these ears have heard, It ill beseems a wretch like me To bandy empty words with thee. Forgive the angry taunts that broke From my wild bosom as I spoke. And lay not to my charge, O King, My mad reproaches' idle sting. Thou, in the truth by trial trained, Best knowledge of the right hast gained: And layest, just and pure within, The meetest penalty on sin. Through every bond of law I burst, The boldest sinner and the worst. O let thy right-instructing speech Console my heart and wisely teach."