Ramayana on Anger

Swift with an angry roar she smote With her huge hand the Vanar's throat. The smitten Vanar, rage-impelled, With fist upraised the monster felled: But quick repented, stirred with shame And pity for a vanquished dame, When with her senses troubled, weak With terror, thus she strove to speak: "O spare me thou whose arm is strong: O spare me, and forgive the wrong. The brave that law will ne'er transgress That spares a woman's helplessness. Hear, best of Vanars, brave and bold, What Brahma's self of yore foretold; "Beware," he said, "the fatal hour When thou shalt own a Vanar's power. Then is the giants' day of fear, For terror and defeat are near." Now, Vanar chief, o'ercome by thee, I own the truth of heaven's decree. For Sita's sake will ruin fall On Ravan, and his town, and all."

Mad with the rage of injured pride King Ravan summoned to his side The valiant five who led his host, Supreme in war and honoured most. "Go forth," he cried, "with car and steed, And to my feet this monkey lead, But watch each chance of time and place To seize this thing of silvan race. For from his wondrous exploits he No monkey of the woods can be, But some new kind of creature meant To work us woe, by Indra sent. Gandharvas, Nagas, and the best Of Yakshas have our might confessed. Have we not challenged and subdued The whole celestial multitude? Yet will you not, if you are wise, A chief of monkey race despise. For I myself have Bali known, And King Sugriva's power I own. But none of all their woodland throng Was half so terrible and strong."

They stood where trees of densest green Wove round their forms a veiling screen. O'er all the garden's pleasant shade The eyes of King Sugriva strayed, And, as on grass and tree he gazed, The fires of wrath within him blazed. Then like a mighty cloud on high, When roars the tempest through the sky, Girt by his friends he thundered out His dread sky-rending battle-shout Like some proud lion in his gait, Or as the sun begins his state, Sugriva let his quick glance rest On Rama whom he thus addressed: "There is the seat of Bali's sway, Where flags on wall and turret play, Which mighty bands of Vanars hold, Rich in all arms and store of gold. Thy promise to thy mind recall That Bali by thy hand shall fall. As kindly fruits adorn the bough. So give my hopes their harvest now."

His hands in reverence Rama raised And southward o'er the ocean gazed; Then on the sacred grass that made His lowly couch his limbs he laid. His head on that strong arm reclined Which Sita, best of womankind, Had loved in happier days to hold With soft arms decked with pearls and gold. Then rising from his bed of grass, "This day," he cried, "the host shall pass Triumphant to the southern shore, Or Ocean's self shall be no more." Thus vowing in his constant breast Again he turned him to his rest, And there, his eyes in slumber closed, Silent beside the sea reposed. Thrice rose the Day-God thrice he set, The lord of Ocean came not yet, Thrice came the night, but Raghu's son No answer by his service won. To Lakshman thus the hero cried, His eyes aflame with wrath and pride:

His soul is burning for the strife, Nor dreads the jeopardy of life. He trembles as he moves, for ire, And bends around his glance of fire. Next, like a cloud that veils the skies, A chieftain of terrific size, Conspicuous mid the Vanars, comes With battle shout like rolling drums, 'Tis Panas, trained in war and tried, Who dwells on Pariyatra's side. He, far away, the chief who throws A glory o'er the marshalled rows That ranged behind their captain stand Exulting on the ocean strand, Is Vinata the fierce in fight, Preeminent like Dardur's height. That chieftain bending down to drink On lovely Vena's verdant brink, Is Krathan; now he lifts his eyes And thee to mortal fray defies. Next Gavaya comes, whose haughty mind Scorns all the warriors of his kind. He comes to trample--such his boast-- On Lanka with his single host."

Still motionless, as lie the slain, The brothers pressed the bloody plain, No sigh they drew, no breath they heaved, And lay as though of life bereaved. Proud of the deed his art had done, To Lanka's town went Ravan's son, Where, as he passed, all fear was stilled, And every heart with triumph filled. Sugriva trembled as he viewed Each fallen prince with blood bedewed, And in his eyes which overflowed With tears the flame of anger glowed. "Calm," cried Vibhishan, "calm thy fears, And stay the torrent of thy tears. Still must the chance of battle change, And victory still delight to range. Our cause again will she befriend And bring us triumph in the end. This is not death: each prince will break The spell that holds him, and awake; Nor long shall numbing magic bind The mighty arm, the lofty mind."

Then Angad spake: "We Vanars well Have searched each valley, cave, and dell, And hill, and brook, and dark recess, And tangled wood, and wilderness. But all in vain: no eye has seen The robber or the Maithil queen. A dreary time has passed away, And stern is he we all obey. Come, cast your grief and sloth aside: Again be every effort tried; So haply may our toil attain The sweet success that follows pain. Laborious effort, toil, and skill, The firm resolve, the constant will Secure at last the ends we seek: Hence, O my friends, I boldly speak. Once more then, noble hearts, once more Let us to-day this wood explore, And, languor and despair subdued, Purchase success with toil renewed. Sugriva is a king austere, And Rama's wrath we needs must fear. Come, Vanars, ye think it wise, And do the thing that I advise."

At length a spirit, loving ill, Tadaka, wearing shapes at will, Whose mighty strength, exceeding vast, A thousand elephants, surpassed, Was to fierce Sunda, lord and head Of all the demon armies, wed. From her, Lord Indra's peer in might Giant Maricha sprang to light: And she, a constant plague and pest, These two fair realms has long distressed. Now dwelling in her dark abode A league away she bars the road: And we, O Rama, hence must go Where lies the forest of the foe. Now on thine own right arm rely, And my command obey: Smite the foul monster that she die, And take the plague away. To reach this country none may dare Fallen from its old estate, Which she, whose fury naught can bear, Has left so desolate. And now my truthful tale is told How with accursed sway The spirit plagued this wood of old, And ceases not to-day."

To this, great chief, thy reason bend, And earnestly the truth perpend. By reason's aid the wisest learn The good and evil to discern. With sin and goodness scarcely known Faint light by chequered lives is shown; Without some clear undoubted deed We mark not how the fruits succeed. In time of old, O thou most brave, To me thy lips such counsel gave. Vrihaspati(512) can scarcely find New wisdom to instruct thy mind. For thine is wit and genius high Meet for the children of the sky. I rouse that heart benumbed by pain And call to vigorous life again. Be manly godlike vigour shown; Put forth that noblest strength, thine own. Strive, best of old Ikshvaku's strain, Strive till the conquered foe be slain. Where is the profit or the joy If thy fierce rage the worlds destroy? Search till thou find the guilty foe, Then let thy hand no mercy show."

"Thy rights, O Ravan, I allow: My brother and mine elder thou. Such, though from duty's path they stray, We love like fathers and obey, But still too bitter to be borne Is thy harsh speech of cruel scorn. The rash like thee, who spurn control, Nor check one longing of the soul, Urged by malignant fate repel The faithful friend who counsels well. A thousand courtiers wilt thou meet, With flattering lips of smooth deceit: But rare are they whose tongue or ear Will speak the bitter truth, or hear. Unclose thy blinded eyes and see That snares of death encompass thee. I dread, my brother, to behold The shafts of Rama, bright with gold, Flash fury through the air, and red With fires of vengeance strike thee dead. Lord, brother, King, again reflect, Nor this mine earnest prayer reject, O, save thyself, thy royal town, Thy people and thine old renown."

When Rama and the host he led Across the sea had safely sped, Thus Ravan, moved by wrath and pride, To Suka and to Saran cried: "O counsellors, the Vanar host Has passed the sea from coast to coast, And Dasaratha's son has wrought A wondrous deed surpassing thought. And now in truth I needs must know The strength and number of the foe. Go ye, to Rama's host repair And count me all the legions there. Learn well what power each captain leads His name and fame for warlike deeds. Learn by what artist's wondrous aid That bridge athwart the sea was made; Learn how the Vanar host came o'er And halted on the island shore. Mark Rama son of Raghu well; His valour, strength, and weapons tell. Watch his advisers one by one, And Lakshman, Raghu's younger son. Learn with observant eyes, and bring "Unerring tidings to your king.

"Stretch, wider stretch thy jaws," exclaimed The Vanar chief, to ire inflamed; And, as the Rakshas near him drew, Ten leagues in height his stature grew. Then straight, her threatening jaws between, A gulf of twenty leagues was seen. To fifty leagues he waxed, and still Her mouth grew wider at her will. Then smaller than a thumb became, Shrunk by his power, the Vanar's frame.(797) He leaped within, and turning round Sprang through the portal at a bound. Then hung in air a moment, while He thus addressed her with a smile: "O Daksha's child,(798) farewell at last! For I within thy mouth have passed. Thou hast the gift of Brahma's grace: I go, the Maithil queen to trace." Then, to her former shape restored, She thus addressed the Vanar lord: "Then forward to the task, and may Success and joy attend thy way! Go, and the rescued lady bring In triumph to her lord and king."

As he and Dasaratha spoke A tempest from the welkin broke, That shook the spacious earth amain And hurled high trees upon the plain. The sun grew dark with murky cloud, And o'er the skies was cast a shroud, While o'er the army, faint with dread, A veil of dust and ashes spread. King, princes, saints their sense retained, Fear-stupefied the rest remained. At length, their wits returning, all Beneath the gloom and ashy pall Saw Jamadagni's son with dread, His long hair twisted round his head, Who, sprung from Bhrigu, loved to beat The proudest kings beneath his feet. Firm as Kailasa's hill he showed, Fierce as the fire of doom he glowed. His axe upon his shoulder lay, His bow was ready for the fray, With thirsty arrows wont to fly Like Lightnings from the angry sky. A long keen arrow forth he drew, Invincible like those which flew From Siva's ever-conquering bow And Tripura in death laid low.

"Is this a speech our king should hear, This counsel of ignoble fear? A scion of our glorious race Should ne'er conceive a thought so base, But one mid all our kin we find, Vibhishan, whose degenerate mind No spark of gallant pride retains, Whose coward soul his lineage stains. Against one giant what can two Unhappy sons of Raghu do? Away with idle fears, away! Matched with our meanest, what are they? Beneath my conquering prowess fell The Lord of earth and heaven and hell.(924) Through every startled region dread Of my resistless fury spread; And Gods in each remotest sphere Confessed the universal fear. Rending the air with roar and groan, Airavat(925) to the earth was thrown. From his huge head the tusks I drew, And smote the Gods with fear anew. Shall I who tame celestials' pride, By whom the fiends are terrified, Now prove a weakling little worth, And fail to slay those sons of earth?"

He ceased: and Rama thus replied: "Be not this grace, O sire, denied. Those hasty words, that curse revoke Which from thy lips in anger broke: "Kaikeyi, be no longer mine: I cast thee off, both thee and thine." O father, let no sorrow fall On her or hers: thy curse recall." "Yea, she shall live, if so thou wilt," The sire replied, "absolved from guilt." Round Lakshman then his arms he threw, And moved by love began anew: "Great store of merit shall be thine, And brightly shall thy glory shine; Secure on earth thy brother's grace. And high in heaven shall be thy place. Thy glorious king obey and fear: To him the triple world is dear. God, saint, and sage, by Indra led, To Rama bow the reverent head, Nor from the Lord, the lofty-souled, Their worship or their praise withhold. Heart of the Gods, supreme is he, The One who ne'er shall cease to be."

And when his uncle's brow is stern, When his fierce eyes with fury burn, Ah, what will be my Angad's fate, So fair and young and delicate? Come, darling, for the last sad sight, Of thy dear sire who loved the right; For soon thine eyes will long in vain A look at that loved face to gain. And, hero, as thy child draws near, With tender words his spirit cheer; Thy dying wishes gently speak, And kiss him on the brows and cheek. High fame, I ween, has Rama won By this great deed his hand has done, His debt to brave Sugriva paid And kept the promise that he made. Be happy, King Sugriva, lord Of Rama to thine arms restored: Enjoy uninterrupted reign, For he, thy foe, at length is slain. Dost thou not hear me speak, and why Hast thou no word of soft reply? Will thou not lift thine eyes and see These dames who look to none but thee?"

"Why waste a thought on one so vile As Hanuman the Vanar, while Sugriva, Lakshman, yet remain, And Rama mightier still, unslain? This mace to-day shall crush the three, And all the host will turn and flee. Listen, and I will speak: incline, O King, to hear these words of mine, For the deep plan that I propose Will swiftly rid thee of thy foes. Let thousands of thy host assume The forms of men in youthful bloom, In war's magnificent array Draw near to Raghu's son, and say: "Thy younger brother Bharat sends This army, and thy cause befriends." Then let our legions hasten near With bow and mace and sword and spear, And on the Vanar army rain Our steel and stone till all be slain. If Raghu's sons will fain believe, Entangled in the net we weave, The penalty they both must pay, And lose their forfeit lives to-day." Then with his warrior soul on fire, Nikumbha spoke in burning ire:

He ceased: and Angad bowed his head; Thence like embodied flame he sped, And lighted from his airy road Within the Rakshas king's abode. There sate, the centre of a ring Of counsellors, the giant king. Swift through the circle Angad pressed, And spoke with fury in his breast: "Sent by the lord of Kosal's land, His envoy here, O King, I stand, Angad the son of Bali: fame Has haply taught thine ears my name. Thus in the words of Rama I Am come to warn thee or defy: Come forth, and fighting in the van Display the spirit of a man. This arm shall slay thee, tyrant: all Thy nobles, kith and kin shall fall: And earth and heaven, from terror freed, Shall joy to see the oppressor bleed. Vibhishan, when his foe is slain, Anointed king in peace shall reign. Once more I counsel thee: repent, Avoid the mortal punishment, With honour due the dame restore, And pardon for thy sin implore."

His valour and his strength I know: But pleasure's sway now sinks them low, With thee, my brother, for ally That strength and valour I defy. He promised, when the rains should end, The succour of his arm to lend. Those months are past: he dares forget, And, lapped in pleasure, slumbers yet. No thought disturbs his careless breast For us impatient and distressed, And, while we sadly wait and pine, Girt by his lords he quaffs the wine. Go, brother, go, his palace seek, And boldly to Sugriva speak, Thus give the listless king to know What waits him if my anger glow: Still open, to the gloomy God, Lies the sad path that Bali trod. "Still to thy plighted word be true, Lest thou, O King, that path pursue. I launched the shaft I pointed well. And Bali, only Bali, fell. But, if from truth thou dare to stray, Both thee and thine this hand shall slay." Thus be the Vanar king addressed, Then add thyself what seems the best."

Dismissed with every honour due The Vanar from the spot withdrew. Then joyous thought the Wind-God's son: "The mighty task is wellnigh done. The three expedients I must leave; The fourth alone can I achieve.(870) These dwellers in the giants' isle No arts of mine can reconcile. I cannot bribe: I cannot sow Dissension mid the Rakshas foe. Arts, gifts, address, these fiends despise; But force shall yet their king chastise. Perchance he may relent when all The bravest of his chieftains fall. This lovely grove will I destroy, The cruel Ravan's pride and joy. The garden where he takes his ease Mid climbing plants and flowery trees That lift their proud tops to the skies, Dear to the tyrant as his eyes. Then will he rouse in wrath, and lead His legions with the car and steed And elephants in long array, And seek me thirsty for the fray. The Rakshas legions will I meet, And all his bravest host defeat; Then, glorious from the bloody plain, Turn to my lord the king again."

Red as the sun on Meru's crest The giant's face his wrath expressed, And every burning breath he drew Was like the blast that rushes through The mountain cedars. Up he raised His awful head with eyes that blazed Like comets, dire as Death in form Who threats the worlds with fire and storm. The giants pointed to their stores Of buffaloes and deer and boars, And straight he gorged him with a flood Of wine, with marrow, flesh, and blood. He ceased: the giants ventured near And bent their lowly heads in fear. Then Kumbhakar[n.]a glared with eyes Still heavy in their first surprise, Still drowsy from his troubled rest, And thus the giant band addressed. "How have ye dared my sleep to break? No trifling cause should bid me wake. Say, is all well? or tell the need That drives you with unruly speed To wake me. Mark the words I say, The king shall tremble in dismay, The fire be quenched and Indra slain Ere ye shall break my rest in vain."

As thus the maid in wrath complained, Kaikeyi saw her heart was pained, And answered eager in defence Of Rama's worth and excellence: "Nay, Rama, born the monarch's heir, By holy fathers trained with care, Virtuous, grateful, pure, and true, Claims royal sway as rightly due. He, like a sire, will long defend Each brother, minister, and friend. Then why, O hump-back, art thou pained To hear that he the throne has gained? Be sure when Rama's empire ends, The kingdom to my son descends, Who, when a hundred years are flown, Shall sit upon his fathers' throne. Why is thine heart thus sad to see The joy that is and long shall be, This fortune by possession sure And hopes which we may count secure? Dear as the darling son I bore Is Rama, yea, or even more. Most duteous to Kausalya, he Is yet more dutiful to me. What though he rule, we need not fear: His brethren to his soul are dear. And if the throne Prince Rama fill Bharat will share the empire still."

Thus to his mother wild with grief: Then thus to Lakshman spake the chief Of those by whom the bow is bent, Mid all who speak, most eloquent: "I know what love for me thou hast, What firm devotion unsurpassed: Thy valour and thy worth I know, And glory that appals the foe. Blest youth, my mother's woe is great, It bends her 'neath its matchless weight: No claims will she, with blinded eyes, Of truth and patience recognize. For duty is supreme in place, And truth is duty's noblest base. Obedient to my sire's behest I serve the cause of duty best. For man should truly do whate'er To mother, Brahman, sire, he sware: He must in duty's path remain, Nor let his word be pledged in vain. And, O my brother, how can I Obedience to this charge deny? Kaikeyi's tongue my purpose spurred, But 'twas my sire who gave the word. Cast these unholy thoughts aside Which smack of war and Warriors' pride; To duty's call, not wrath attend, And tread the path which I commend."

Bright flashed her eye as Lakshman spoke And forth her words of fury broke Upon her truthful guardian, flung With bitter taunts that pierced and stung: "Shame on such false compassion, base Defiler of thy glorious race! 'Twere joyous sight I ween to thee My lord in direst strait to see. Thou knowest Rama sore bested, Or word like this thou ne'er hadst said. No marvel if we find such sin In rivals false to kith and kin. Wretches like thee of evil kind, Concealing crime with crafty mind. Thou, wretch, thine aid wilt still deny, And leave my lord alone to die. Has love of me unnerved thy hand, Or Bharat's art this ruin planned? But be the treachery his or thine, In vain, in vain the base design. For how shall I, the chosen bride Of dark-hued Rama, lotus-eyed, The queen who once called Rama mine, To love of other men decline? Believe me, Lakshman, Rama's wife Before thine eyes will quit this life, And not a moment will she stay If her dear lord have passed away."

Then met on high in bright array, With eyes that longed to see the fray, God and Gandharva, sage and saint, With beings pure from earthly taint. Blest for good works aforetime wrought, Thus each to other spake his thought: "Now joy to Brahmans, joy to kine, And all whom world count half divine! May Raghu's offspring slay in fight Pulastya's sons who roam by night!" In words like these and more, the best Of high-souled saints their hopes expressed, Bending their eager eyes from where Car-borne with Gods they rode in air. Beneath them stretching far, they viewed The giants' death-doomed multitude. They saw where, urged with fury, far Before the host rolled Khara's car, And close beside their leader came Twelve giant peers of might and fame. Four other chiefs(463) before the rest Behind their leader Dushan pressed. Impetuous, cruel, dark, and dread, All thirsting for the fray, The hosts of giant warriors sped Onward upon their way. With eager speed they reached the spot Where dwelt the princely two,-- Like planets in a league to blot The sun and moon from view.

Now all the giant race await, Destroyed by thee, a speedy fate, Ruled by a king so cruel-souled, Foolish in heart and uncontrolled. Think not I fear the sudden blow That threatens now to lay me low: I mourn the ruin that I see Impending o'er thy host and thee. Me first perchance will Rama kill, But soon his hand thy blood will spill. I die, and if by Rama slain And not by thee, I count it gain. Soon as the hero's face I see His angry eyes will murder me, And if on her thy hands thou lay Thy friends and thou are dead this day. If with my help thou still must dare The lady from her lord to tear, Farewell to all our days are o'er, Lanka and giants are no more. In vain, in vain, an earnest friend, I warn thee, King, and pray. Thou wilt not to my prayers attend, Or heed the words I say So men, when life is fleeting fast And death's sad hour is nigh, Heedless and blinded to the last Reject advice and die."

It chanced that Jahnu, great and good, Engaged with holy offerings stood; The river spread her waves around Flooding his sacrificial ground. The saint in anger marked her pride, And at one draught her stream he dried. Then God, and sage, and bard, afraid, To noble high-souled Jahnu prayed, And begged that he would kindly deem His own dear child that holy stream. Moved by their suit, he soothed their fears And loosed her waters from his ears. Hence Ganga through the world is styled Both Jahnavi and Jahnu's child. Then onward still she followed fast, And reached the great sea bank at last. Thence deep below her way she made To end those rites so long delayed. The monarch reached the Ocean's side, And still behind him Ganga hied. He sought the depths which open lay Where Sagar's sons had dug their way. So leading through earth's nether caves The river's purifying waves, Over his kinsmen's dust the lord His funeral libation poured. Soon as the flood their dust bedewed, Their spirits gained beatitude, And all in heavenly bodies dressed Rose to the skies' eternal rest.

He spoke: then Lakshman's wrath rose high, And there before his brother's eye, He drew that sword which none could stay, And cleft her nose and ears away. Noseless and earless, torn and maimed, With fearful shrieks the fiend exclaimed, And frantic in her wild distress Resought the distant wilderness. Deformed, terrific, huge, and dread, As on she moved, her gashes bled, And groan succeeded groan as loud As roars, ere rain, the thunder cloud. Still on the fearful monster passed, While streams of blood kept falling fast, And with a roar, and arms outspread Within the boundless wood she fled. To Janasthan the monster flew; Fierce Khara there she found, With chieftains of the giant crew In thousands ranged around. Before his awful feet she bent And fell with piercing cries, As when a bolt in swift descent Comes flashing from the skies. There for a while with senses dazed Silent she lay and scared: At length her drooping head she raised, And all the tale declared, How Rama, Lakshman, and the dame Had reached that lonely place: Then told her injuries and shame, And showed her bleeding face.

When Bali's warrior son(979) beheld Their flight, his heart with fury swelled. He rushed, with his terrific shout, To meet the foe and stay the rout. He came, he hurled a mountain peak, And smote the giant on the cheek. His ponderous spear the giant threw: Fierce was the cast, the aim was true; But Angad, trained in war and tried, Saw ere it came, and leapt aside. Then with his open hand he smote The giant on the chest and throat. That blow the giant scarce sustained; But sense and strength were soon regained. With force which nothing might resist He caught the Vanar by the wrist, Whirled him, as if in pastime, round, And dashed him senseless on the ground. There low on earth his foe lay crushed: At King Sugriva next he rushed, Who, waiting for the charge, stood still, And heaved on high a shattered hill, He looked on Kumbhakarna dyed With streams of blood, and fiercely cried: "Great glory has thine arm achieved, And thousands of their lives bereaved. Now leave a while thy meaner foes, And brook the hill Sugriva throws."

Obedient to the high request By Bharadvaja thus addressed, His reverent hands together laid, He, skilled in speech, his answer made: "She whom, O Saint, thou seest here A Goddess in her form appear, Was the chief consort of the king, Now worn with fast and sorrowing. As Aditi in days of yore The all-preserving Vishnu bore, Kausalya bore with happy fate Lord Rama of the lion's gait. She who, transfixed with torturing pangs, On her left arm so fondly hangs, As when her withering leaves decay Droops by the wood the Cassia spray, Sumitra, pained with woe, is she, The consort second of the three: Two princely sons the lady bare, Fair as the Gods in heaven are fair. And she, the wicked dame through whom My brothers' lives are wrapped in gloom, And mourning for his offspring dear, The king has sought his heavenly sphere,-- Proud, foolish-hearted, swift to ire, Self-fancied darling of my sire, Kaikeyi, most ambitious queen, Unlovely with her lovely mien, My mother she, whose impious will Is ever bent on deeds of ill, In whom the root and spring I see Of all this woe which crushes me."

Thus spoke the fiend, by rage impelled, And straight his course toward Rama held. With Syenagami and the rest Of his twelve chiefs he onward pressed, And every giant as he went A storm of well-wrought arrows sent. Then with his pointed shafts that came With gold and diamond bright as flame, Dead to the earth the hero threw The remnant of the demon crew. Those shafts with feathers bright as gold, Like flames which wreaths of smoke enfold, Smote down the fiends like tall trees rent By red bolts from the firmament. A hundred shafts he pointed well: By their keen barbs a hundred fell: A thousand,--and a thousand more In battle's front lay drenched in gore. Of all defence and guard bereft, With sundered bows and harness cleft. Their bodies red with bloody stain Fell the night-rovers on the plain, Which, covered with the loosened hair Of bleeding giants prostrate there, Like some great altar showed, arrayed For holy rites with grass o'erlaid. The darksome wood, each glade and dell Where the wild demons fought and fell Was like an awful hell whose floor Is thick with mire and flesh and gore.

Thus Rama spoke. Sugriva hied Within the mountain's caverned side, Impelled by love that stirred each thought The precious tokens quickly brought, And said to Raghu's son: Behold This garment and these rings of gold. In Rama's hand with friendly haste The jewels and the robe he placed. Then, like the moon by mist assailed, The tear-dimmed eyes of Rama failed; That burst of woe unmanned his frame, Woe sprung from passion for his dame, And with his manly strength o'erthrown, He fell and cried, Ah me! mine own! Again, again close to his breast The ornaments and robe he pressed, While the quick pants that shook his frame As from a furious serpent came. On his dear brother standing nigh He turned at length his piteous eye; And, while his tears increasing ran, In bitter wail he thus began: "Look, brother, and behold once more The ornaments and robe she wore, Dropped while the giant bore away In cruel arras his struggling prey, Dropped in some quiet spot, I ween, Where the young grass was soft and green; For still untouched by spot or stain Their former beauty all retain."

"Now giants, if your eyes have scanned Our armies, numbering every band, Marked lord and chief, and gazed their fill, Return to Ravan when ye will. If aught remain, if aught anew Ye fain would scan with closer view, Vibhishan, ready at your call, Will lead you forth and show you all. Think not of bonds and capture; fear No loss of life, no peril here: For, captive, helpless and unarmed, An envoy never should be harmed. Again to Lanka's town repair, Speed to the giant monarch there, And be these words to Ravan told, Fierce brother of the Lord of Gold: "Now, tyrant, tremble for thy sin: Call up thy friends, thy kith and kin, And let the power and might be seen Which made thee bold to steal my queen. To-morrow shall thy mournful eye Behold thy bravest warriors die, And Lanka's city, tower and wall, Struck by my fiery shafts, will fall. Then shall my vengeful blow descend Its rage on thee and thine to spend, Fierce as the fiery bolt that flew From heaven against the Danav crew, Mid those rebellious demons sent By him who rules the firmament."

Then, by avenging fury spurred, Her mournful cry the heroes heard, And hastened, for the lady's sake, The wicked monster's life to take. Then Lakshman with resistless stroke The foe's left arm that held him broke, And Rama too, as swift to smite, Smashed with his heavy hand the right. With broken arms and tortured frame To earth the fainting giant came, Like a huge cloud, or mighty rock Rent, sundered by the levin's shock. Then rushed they on, and crushed and beat Their foe with arms and fists and feet, And nerved each mighty limb to pound And bray him on the level ground. Keen arrows and each biting blade Wide rents in breast and side had made; But crushed and torn and mangled, still The monster lived they could not kill. When Rama saw no arms might slay The fiend who like a mountain lay, The glorious hero, swift to save In danger, thus his counsel gave: "O Prince of men, his charmed life No arms may take in battle strife: Now dig we in this grove a pit His elephantine bulk to fit, And let the hollowed earth enfold The monster of gigantic mould."

His breast with burning fury fired, Thus Khara of the fiend inquired: And then with many a tear and sigh Thus Surpanakha made reply: "'Tis Dasaratha's sons, a pair Strong, resolute, and young, and fair: In coats of dark and blackdeer's hide, And like the radiant lotus eyed: On berries roots and fruit they feed, And lives of saintly virtue lead: With ordered senses undefiled, Rama and Lakshman are they styled. Fair as the Minstrels' King(460) are they, And stamped with signs of regal sway. I know not if the heroes trace Their line from Gods or Danav(461) race. There by these wondering eyes between The noble youths a dame was seen, Fair, blooming, young, with dainty waist, And all her bright apparel graced. For her with ready heart and mind The royal pair their strength combined, And brought me to this last distress, Like some lost woman, comfortless. Perfidious wretch! my soul is fain Her foaming blood and theirs to drain. O let me head the vengeful fight, And with this hand my murderers smite. Come, brother, hasten to fulfil This longing of my eager will. On to the battle! Let me drink Their lifeblood as to earth they sink."

He cleared the barrier at a bound; He stood within the pleasant ground, And with delighted eyes surveyed The climbing plants and varied shade, He saw unnumbered trees unfold The treasures of their pendent gold, As, searching for the Maithil queen, He strayed through alleys soft and green; And when a spray he bent or broke Some little bird that slept awoke. Whene'er the breeze of morning blew, Where'er a startled peacock flew, The gaily coloured branches shed Their flowery rain upon his head That clung around the Vanar till He seemed a blossom-covered hill,(822) The earth, on whose fair bosom lay The flowers that fell from every spray, Was glorious as a lovely maid In all her brightest robes arrayed, He saw the breath of morning shake The lilies on the rippling lake Whose waves a pleasant lapping made On crystal steps with gems inlaid. Then roaming through the enchanted ground, A pleasant hill the Vanar found, And grottoes in the living stone With grass and flowery trees o'ergrown. Through rocks and boughs a brawling rill Leapt from the bosom of the hill, Like a proud beauty when she flies From her love's arms with angry eyes.

Then flashed the giant's eye with fire Like that which lights the funeral pyre. He bade his bravest Kinkars(871) speed And to his feet the spoiler lead. Forth from the palace, at his hest, Twice forty thousand warriors pressed. Burning for battle, strong and fierce, With clubs to crush and swords to pierce, They saw Hanuman near a porch, And, thick as moths around a torch, Rushed on the foe with wild attacks Of mace and club and battle-axe. As round him pressed the Rakshas crowd, The wondrous monkey roared aloud, That birds fell headlong from the sky: Then spake he with a mighty cry: "Long life to Dasaratha's heir, And Lakshman, ever-glorious pair! Long life to him who rules our race, Preserved by noblest Rama's grace! I am the slave of Kosal's king,(872) Whose wondrous deeds the minstrels sing. Hanuman I, the Wind-God's seed: Beneath this arm the foemen bleed. I fear not, unapproached in might, A thousand Ravan's ranged for fight, Although in furious hands they rear The hill and tree for sword and spear, I will, before the giants' eyes, Their city and their king chastise; And, having communed with the dame, Depart in triumph as I came."

Then fierce the giant's fury blazed As on Hanuman's form he gazed, And shaken by each wild surmise He spake aloud with flashing eyes: "Can this be Nandi(882) standing here, The mighty one whom all revere? Who once on high Kailasa's hill Pronounced the curse that haunts me still? Or is the woodland creature one Of Asur race, or Bali's(883) son? The wretch with searching question try: Learn who he is, and whence; and why He marred the glory of the grove, And with my captains fiercely strove." Prahasta heard his lord's behest, And thus the Vanar chief addressed: "O monkey stranger be consoled: Fear not, and let thy heart be bold. If thou by Indra's mandate sent Thy steps to Lanka's isle hast bent, With fearless words the cause explain, And freedom thou shalt soon regain. Or if thou comest as a spy Despatched by Vishnu in the sky, Or sent by Yama, or the Lord Of Riches, hast our town explored; Proved by the prowess thou hast shown No monkey save in form alone; Speak boldly all the truth, and be Released from bonds, unharmed and free. But falsehood spoken to our king Swift punishment of death will bring."

Then Kumbhakarna's anger woke, And wroth at Ravan's words he spoke: "O Monarch, when thy ravished eyes First looked upon thy lovely prize, Then was the time to bid us scan Each peril and mature a plan. Blest is the king who acts with heed, And ne'er repents one hasty deed; And hapless he whose troubled soul Mourns over days beyond control. Thou hast, in beauty's toils ensnared, A desperate deed of boldness dared; By fortune saved ere Rama's steel One wound, thy mortal bane, could deal. But, Ravan, as the deed is done, The toil of war I will not shun. This arm, O rover of the night, Thy foemen to the earth shall smite, Though Indra with the Lord of Flame, The Sun and Storms, against me came. E'en Indra, monarch of the skies, Would dread my club and mountain size, Shrink from these teeth and quake to hear The thunders of my voice of fear. No second dart shall Rama cast: The first he aims shall be the last. He falls, and these dry lips shall drain The blood of him my hand has slain; And Sita, when her champion dies, Shall be thine undisputed prize."

But Rama, pride of Raghu's race, Gazed tenderly on Lakshman's face, And, as the sight his spirit broke, Turned to Sushen and sadly spoke: "Where is my power and valour? how Shall I have heart for battle now, When dead before my weeping eyes My brother, noblest Lakshman, lies? My tears in blinding torrents flow, My hand unnerved has dropped my bow. The pangs of woe have blanched my cheek, My heart is sick, my strength is weak. Ah me, my brother! Ah, that I By Lakshman's side might sink and die: Life, war and conquest, all are vain If Lakshman lies in battle slain. Why will those eyes my glances shun? Hast thou no word of answer, none? Ah, is thy noble spirit flown And gone to other worlds alone? Couldst thou not let thy brother seek Those worlds with thee? O speak, O speak! Rise up once more, my brother, rise, Look on me with thy loving eyes. Were not thy steps beside me still In gloomy wood, on breezy hill? Did not thy gentle care assuage Thy brother's grief and fitful rage? Didst thou not all his troubles share, His guide and comfort in despair?"

The aged monarch gazed awhile, Then thus addressed him with a smile, As Kasyap, whom the worlds revere, Speaks for the Lord of Gods to hear: "O thou of all my sons most dear, In virtue best, thy father's peer, Child of my consort first in place, Mine equal in her pride of race, Because the people's hearts are bound To thee by graces in thee found, Be thou in Pushya's favouring hour Made partner of my royal power. I know that thou by nature's bent Both modest art and excellent, But though thy gifts no counsel need My love suggests the friendly rede. Mine own dear son, be modest still, And rule each sense with earnest will. Keep thou the evils far away That spring from love and anger's sway. Thy noble course alike pursue In secret as in open view, And every nerve, the love to gain Of ministers and subjects, strain. The happy prince who sees with pride His thriving people satisfied; Whose arsenals with arms are stored, And treasury with golden hoard,-- His friends rejoice as joyed the Blest When Amrit crowned their eager quest. So well, my child, thy course maintain, And from all ill thy soul refrain."

Sugriva spoke inflamed with ire, Scanned Rama with a glance of fire, Pondered a while in silent mood. And thus again his speech renewed: "All lands with Bali's glories ring, A valiant, strong, and mighty king; In conscious power unused to yield, A hero first in every field. His wondrous deeds his might declare, Deeds Gods might scarcely do or dare; And on this power reflecting still I roam on Rishyamuka's hill. Awed by my brother's might I rove, In doubt and fear, from grove to grove, While Hanuman, my chosen friend, And faithful lords my steps attend; And now, O true to friendship's tie, I hail in thee my best ally. My surest refuge from my foes, And steadfast as the Lord of Snows. Still, when I muse how strong and bold Is cruel Bali, evil-souled, But ne'er, O chief of Raghu's line, Have seen what strength in war is thine, Though in my heart I may not dare Doubt thy great might, despise, compare, Thoughts of his fearful deeds will rise And fill my soul with sad surmise. Speech, form, and trust which naught may move Thy secret strength and glory prove, As smouldering ashes dimly show The dormant fires that live below."

No word the giant king returned: His eyes with flames of fury burned. His arm was stretched, his bow was bent, And swift his fiery shafts were sent. Red torrents from the Vanar flowed: Then Rama near to Ravan strode, And with keen darts that never failed, The chariot of the king assailed. With surest aim his arrows flew: The driver and the steeds he slew. And shattered with the pointed steel Car, flag, and pole and yoke and wheel. As Indra hurls his bolt to smite Mount Meru's heaven-ascending height, So Rama with a flaming dart Struck Lanka's monarch near the heart, Who reeled and fell beneath the blow And from loose fingers dropped his bow. Bright as the sun, with crescent head, From Rama's bow an arrow sped, And from his forehead, proud no more, Cleft the bright coronet he wore. Then Rama stood by Ravan's side And to the conquered giant cried: "Well hast thou fought: thine arm has slain Strong heroes of the Vanar train. I will not strike or slay thee now, For weary, faint with fight art thou. To Lanka's town thy footsteps bend, And there the night securely spend. To-morrow come with car and bow, And then my prowess shalt thou know."

His giant foe no answer made, But on his string an arrow laid. He raised his arm, the cord he drew, At Lakshman's breast the arrow flew. Sumitra's son, his foemen's dread, Shot a fleet shaft with crescent head, Which cleft that arrow pointed well, And harmless to the earth it fell. A shower of shafts from Lakshman's bow Fell fast and furious on the foe Who quailed not as the missiles smote With idle force his iron coat. Then came the friendly Wind-God near, And whispered thus in Lakshman's ear: "Such shafts as these in vain assail Thy foe's impenetrable mail. A more tremendous missile try, Or never may the giant die. Employ the mighty spell, and aim The weapon known by Brahma's name." He ceased; Sumitra's son obeyed: On his great bow the shaft was laid, And with a roar like thunder, true As Indra's flashing bolt, it flew. The giant poured his shafts like rain To check its course, but all in vain. With spear and mace and sword he tried To turn the fiery dart aside. Winged with a force which naught could check, It smote the monster in the neck, And, sundered from his shoulders, rolled To earth his head and helm of gold.

Sure in some antenatal time Were children, by Kausalya's crime, Torn from their mothers' arms away, And hence she mourns this evil day. She for her child no toil would spare Tending me long with pain and care; Now in the hour of fruitage she Has lost that son, ah, woe is me. O Lakshman, may no matron e'er A son so doomed to sorrow bear As I, my mother's heart who rend With anguish that can never end. The Sarika,(325) methinks, possessed More love than glows in Rama's breast. Who, as the tale is told to us, Addressed the stricken parrot thus: "Parrot, the capturer's talons tear, While yet alone thou flutterest there, Before his mouth has closed on me:" So cried the bird, herself to free. Reft of her son, in childless woe, My mother's tears for ever flow: Ill-fated, doomed with grief to strive, What aid can she from me derive? Pressed down by care, she cannot rise From sorrow's flood wherein she lies. In righteous wrath my single arm Could, with my bow, protect from harm Ayodhya's town and all the earth: But what is hero prowess worth? Lest breaking duty's law I sin, And lose the heaven I strive to win, The forest life today I choose, And kingly state and power refuse."

The queen's stern speech the monarch heard, As rage and grief her bosom stirred, And by his anguish sore oppressed Reflected in his secret breast. Fainting and sad, with woe distraught, He wandered in a maze of thought; At length the queller of the foe Grew conscious, rallying from his woe. When consciousness returned anew Long burning sighs the monarch drew, Again immersed in thought he eyed Kausalya standing by his side. Back to his pondering soul was brought The direful deed his hand had wrought, When, guiltless of the wrong intent, His arrow at a sound was sent. Distracted by his memory's sting, And mourning for his son, the king To two consuming griefs a prey, A miserable victim lay. The double woe devoured him fast, As on the ground his eyes he cast, Joined suppliant hands, her heart to touch, And spake in the answer, trembling much: "Kausalya, for thy grace I sue, Joining these hands as suppliants do. Thou e'en to foes hast ever been A gentle, good, and loving queen. Her lord, with noble virtues graced, Her lord, by lack of all debased, Is still a God in woman's eyes, If duty's law she hold and prize. Thou, who the right hast aye pursued, Life's changes and its chances viewed, Shouldst never launch, though sorrow-stirred, At me distressed, one bitter word."

But when he turned his eye where bled Both Trisiras and Dushan dead, Fear o'er the giant's spirit came Of Rama's might which naught could tame. He saw his savage legions, those Whose force no creature dared oppose,-- He saw the leader of his train By Rama's single prowess slain. With burning grief he marked the few Still left him of his giant crew. As Namuchi(473) on Indra, so Rushed the dread demon on his foe. His mighty bow the monster strained, And angrily on Rama rained His mortal arrows in a flood, Like serpent fangs athirst for blood. Skilled in the bowman's warlike art, He plied the string and poised the dart. Here, on his car, and there, he rode, And passages of battle showed, While all the skyey regions grew Dark with his arrows as they flew. Then Rama seized his ponderous bow, And straight the heaven was all aglow With shafts whose stroke no life might bear That filled with flash and flame the air, Thick as the blinding torrents sent Down from Parjanya's(474) firmament. In space itself no space remained, But all was filled with arrows rained Incessantly from each great bow Wielded by Rama and his foe. As thus in furious combat, wrought To mortal hate, the warriors fought, The sun himself grew faint and pale, Obscured behind that arrowy veil.

"Not for myself, O King, I grieve, For Tara or the friends I leave, As for sweet Angad, my dear son, My noble, only little one. For, nursed in luxury and bliss, His father he will mourn and miss, And like a stream whose fount is dry Will waste away and sink and die,-- My own dear child, my only boy, His mother Tara's hope and joy. Spare him, O son of Raghu, spare The child entrusted to thy care. My Angad and Sugriva treat E'en as thy heart considers meet, For thou, O chief of men, art strong To guard the right and punish wrong. O, if thou wilt thine ear incline To hear these dying words of mine, He and Sugriva will to thee As Bharat and as Lakshman be. Let not my Tara, left forlorn, Weep for Sugriva's wrathful scorn; Nor let him, for her lord's offence, Condemn her faithful innocence. And well and wisely may he reign If thy dear grace his power sustain: If, following thee his friend and guide, He turn not from thy hest aside: Thus may he reign with glory, nay Thus to the skies will win his way. Though stayed by Tara's fond recall, By thy dear hand I longed to fall. Against my brother rushed and fought, And gained the death I long have sought."

There gleamed the car with wealth untold Of precious gems and burnished gold; Nor could the Wind-God's son withdraw His rapt gaze from the sight he saw, By Visvakarma's(813) self proclaimed The noblest work his hand had framed. Uplifted in the air it glowed Bright as the sun's diurnal road. The eye might scan the wondrous frame And vainly seek one spot to blame, So fine was every part and fair With gems inlaid with lavish care. No precious stones so rich adorn The cars wherein the Gods are borne, Prize of the all-resistless might That sprang from pain and penance rite,(814) Obedient to the master's will It moved o'er wood and towering hill, A glorious marvel well designed By Visvakarma's artist mind, Adorned with every fair device That decks the cars of Paradise. Swift moving as the master chose It flew through air or sank or rose,(815) And in its fleetness left behind The fury of the rushing wind: Meet mansion for the good and great, The holy, wise, and fortunate. Throughout the chariot's vast extent Were chambers wide and excellent, All pure and lovely to the eyes As moonlight shed from cloudless skies. Fierce goblins, rovers of the night Who cleft the clouds with swiftest flight In countless hosts that chariot drew, With earrings clashing as they flew.

His pitying eyes with tears bedewed, The weeping queen again he viewed, And saw around the prisoner stand Her demon guard, a fearful band. Some earless, some with ears that hung Low as their feet and loosely swung: Some fierce with single ears and eyes, Some dwarfish, some of monstrous size: Some with their dark necks long and thin With hair upon the knotty skin: Some with wild locks, some bald and bare, Some covered o'er with bristly hair: Some tall and straight, some bowed and bent With every foul disfigurement: All black and fierce with eyes of fire, Ruthless and stern and swift to ire: Some with the jackal's jaw and nose, Some faced like boars and buffaloes: Some with the heads of goats and kine, Of elephants, and dogs, and swine: With lions' lips and horses' brows, They walked with feet of mules and cows: Swords, maces, clubs, and spears they bore In hideous hands that reeked with gore, And, never sated, turned afresh To bowls of wine and piles of flesh. Such were the awful guards who stood Round Sita in that lovely wood, While in her lonely sorrow she Wept sadly neath a spreading tree. He watched the spouse of Rama there Regardless of her tangled hair, Her jewels stripped from neck and limb, Decked only with her love of him.

Then Trisiras raised high his spear Which chilled the trembling foe with fear And, like a flashing meteor through The air at Hanuman it flew. The Vanar shunned the threatened stroke, And with strong hands the weapon broke. The giant drew his glittering blade: Dire was the wound the weapon made Deep in the Vanar's ample chest, Who, for a moment sore oppressed, Raised his broad hand, regaining might, And struck the rover of the night. Fierce was the blow: with one wild yell Low on the earth the monster fell. Hanuman seized his fallen sword Which served no more its senseless lord, And from the monster triple-necked Smote his huge heads with crowns bedecked. Then Mahaparsva burned with ire; Fierce flashed his eyes with vengeful fire. A moment on the dead he gazed, Then his black mace aloft was raised, And down the mass of iron came That struck and shook the Vanar's frame. Hanuman's chest was wellnigh crushed, And from his mouth red torrents gushed: Yet served one instant to restore His spirit: from the foe he tore His awful mace, and smote, and laid The giant in the dust dismayed. Crushed were his jaws and teeth and eyes: Breathless and still he lay as lies A summit from a mountain rent By him who rules the firmament.

Their eager hearts with transport burned As to their task the heroes turned. Obedient to their father, they Through earth's recesses forced their way. With iron arms' unflinching toil Each dug a league beneath the soil. Earth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain, As emulous they plied amain Sharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar, Hard as the bolts of Indra are. Then loud the horrid clamour rose Of monsters dying neath their blows, Giant and demon, fiend and snake, That in earth's core their dwelling make. They dug, in ire that naught could stay, Through sixty thousand leagues their way, Cleaving the earth with matchless strength Till hell itself they reached at length. Thus digging searched they Jambudvip(184) With all its hills and mountains steep. Then a great fear began to shake The heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake, And all distressed in spirit went Before the Sire Omnipotent. With signs of woe in every face They sought the mighty Father's grace, And trembling still and ill at ease Addressed their Lord in words like these: "The sons of Sagar, Sire benign, Pierce the whole earth with mine on mine, And as their ruthless work they ply Innumerable creatures die. "This is the thief," the princes say, "Who stole our victim steed away. This marred the rite, and caused us ill, And so their guiltless blood they spill."

As when the driver's torturing hook Goads on an elephant, the look Of sire and mother in despair Was more than Rama's heart could bear. As mother kine to stalls return Which hold the calves for whom they yearn, So to the car she tried to run As a cow seeks her little one. Once and again the hero's eyes Looked on his mother, as with cries Of woe she called and gestures wild, "O Sita, Lakshman, O my child!" "Stay," cried the king, "thy chariot stay:" "On, on," cried Rama, "speed away." As one between two hosts, inclined To neither was Sumantra's mind. But Rama spake these words again: "A lengthened woe is bitterest pain. On, on; and if his wrath grow hot, Thine answer be, 'I heard thee not.' " Sumantra, at the chief's behest, Dismissed the crowd that toward him pressed, And, as he bade, to swiftest speed Urged on his way each willing steed. The king's attendants parted thence, And paid him heart-felt reverence: In mind, and with the tears he wept, Each still his place near Rama kept. As swift away the horses sped, His lords to Dasaratha said: "To follow him whom thou again Wouldst see returning home is vain." With failing limb and drooping mien He heard their counsel wise: Still on their son the king and queen Kept fast their lingering eyes.(314)

Down from the tree Hanuman came And humbly stood before the dame. Then joining reverent palm to palm Addressed her thus with words of balm: "Why should the tears of sorrow rise, Sweet lady, to those lovely eyes, As when the wind-swept river floods Two half expanded lotus buds? Who art thou, O most fair of face? Of Asur,(850) or celestial race? Did Naga mother give thee birth? For sure thou art no child of earth. Do Rudras(851) claim that heavenly form? Or the swift Gods(852) who ride the storm? Or art thou Rohini(853) the blest, That star more lovely than the rest,-- Reft from the Moon thou lovest well And doomed a while on earth to dwell? Or canst thou, fairest wonder, be The starry queen Arundhati,(854) Fled in thy wrath or jealous pride From her dear lord Vasishtha's side? Who is the husband, father, son Or brother, O thou loveliest one, Gone from this world in heaven to dwell, For whom those eyes with weeping swell? Yet, by the tears those sweet eyes shed, Yet, by the earth that bears thy tread,(855) By calling on a monarch's name, No Goddess but a royal dame. Art thou the queen, fair lady, say, Whom Ravan stole and bore away? Yea, by that agony of woe, That form unrivalled here below, That votive garb, thou art, I ween, King Janak's child and Rama's queen."

The giants bent, in rage and grief, Their eyes upon the fallen chief: Then flying wild with fear and pale To Ravan bore the mournful tale. He heard how Atikaya died, Then turned him to his lords, and cried: "Where are they now--my bravest--where, Wise to consult and prompt to dare? Where is Dhumraksha, skilled to wield All weapons in the battle field? Akampan, and Prahasta's might, And Kumbhakarna bold in fight? These, these and many a Rakshas more, Each master of the arms he bore, Who every foe in fight o'erthrew, The victors none could e'er subdue, Have perished by the might of one, The vengeful arm of Raghu's son. In vain I cast mine eyes around, No match for Rama here is found, No chief to stand before that bow Whose deadly shafts have caused our woe. Now, warriors, to your stations hence; Provide ye for the wall's defence, And be the Asoka garden, where The lady lies, your special care. Be every lane and passage barred, Set at each gate a chosen guard. And with your troops, where danger calls, Be ready to defend the walls. Each movement of the Vanars mark; Observe them when the skies grow dark; Be ready in the dead of night, And ere the morning bring the light. Taught by our loss we may not scorn These legions of the forest-born."

The Rakshas king his palace sought, And Sita from her bower was brought. Then Rakshas bearers tall and strong, Selected from the menial throng, Through Lanka's gate the queen, arrayed In glorious robes and gems, conveyed. Concealed behind the silken screen, Swift to the plain they bore the queen, While Vanars, close on every side, With eager looks the litter eyed. The warders at Vibhishan's hest The onward rushing throng repressed, While like the roar of ocean loud Rose the wild murmur of the crowd. The son of Raghu saw and moved With anger thus the king reproved: "Why vex with hasty blow and threat The Vanars, and my rights forget? Repress this zeal, untimely shown: I count this people as mine own. A woman's guard is not her bower, The lofty wall, the fenced tower: Her conduct is her best defence, And not a king's magnificence. At holy rites, in war and woe, Her face unveiled a dame may show; When at the Maiden's Choice(1015) they meet, When marriage troops parade the street. And she, my queen, who long has lain In prison racked with care and pain, May cease a while her face to hide, For is not Rama by her side? Lay down the litter: on her feet Let Sita come her lord to meet. And let the hosts of woodland race Look near upon the lady's face."

His lordly steps are firm and free, His strong arms reach below his knee;(17) All fairest graces join to deck His head, his brow, his stately neck, And limbs in fair proportion set: The manliest form e'er fashioned yet. Graced with each high imperial mark, His skin is soft and lustrous dark. Large are his eyes that sweetly shine With majesty almost divine. His plighted word he ne'er forgets; On erring sense a watch he sets. By nature wise, his teacher's skill Has trained him to subdue his will. Good, resolute and pure, and strong, He guards mankind from scathe and wrong, And lends his aid, and ne'er in vain, The cause of justice to maintain. Well has he studied o'er and o'er The Vedas(18)and their kindred lore. Well skilled is he the bow to draw,(19) Well trained in arts and versed in law; High-souled and meet for happy fate, Most tender and compassionate; The noblest of all lordly givers, Whom good men follow, as the rivers Follow the King of Floods, the sea: So liberal, so just is he. The joy of Queen Kausalya's(20)heart, In every virtue he has part: Firm as Himalaya's(21) snowy steep, Unfathomed like the mighty deep: The peer of Vishnu's power and might, And lovely as the Lord of Night;(22) Patient as Earth, but, roused to ire, Fierce as the world-destroying fire; In bounty like the Lord of Gold,(23) And Justice self in human mould.

His children's speech King Sagar heard, And answered thus, to anger stirred: "Dig on, and ne'er your labour stay Till through earth's depths you force your way. Then smite the robber dead, and bring The charger back with triumphing." The sixty thousand chiefs obeyed: Deep through the earth their way they made. Deep as they dug and deeper yet The immortal elephant they met, Famed Virupaksha(188) vast of size, Upon whose head the broad earth lies: The mighty beast who earth sustains With shaggy hills and wooded plains. When, with the changing moon, distressed, And longing for a moment's rest, His mighty head the monster shakes, Earth to the bottom reels and quakes. Around that warder strong and vast With reverential steps they passed. Nor, when the honour due was paid, Their downward search through earth delayed. But turning from the east aside Southward again their task they plied. There Mahapadma held his place, The best of all his mighty race, Like some huge hill, of monstrous girth, Upholding on his head the earth. When the vast beast the princes saw, They marvelled and were filled with awe. The sons of high-souled Sagar round That elephant in reverence wound. Then in the western region they With might unwearied cleft their way. There saw they with astonisht eyes Saumanas, beast of mountain size. Round him with circling steps they went With greetings kind and reverent.

"Quick, quick! This Vanar host restrain, For heralds never must be slain. To him alone, a wretch untrue, The punishment of death is due Who leaves his master's speech unsaid And speaks another in its stead." Moved by the suppliant speech and prayer Up sprang the prince and cried, forbear. Saved from his wild assailant's blows Again the Rakshas herald rose And borne on light wings to the sky Addressed Sugriva from on high: "O Vanar Monarch, chief endued With power and wonderous fortitude, What answer is my king, the fear And scourge of weeping worlds, to hear?" "Go tell thy lord," Sugriva cried, "Thou, Rama's foe, art thus defied. His arm the guilty Bali slew; Thus, tyrant, shalt thou perish too. Thy sons, thy friends, proud King, and all Thy kith and kin with thee shall fall; And, emptied of the giant's brood, Burnt Lanka be a solitude. Fly to the Sun-God's pathway, go And hide thee deep in hell below: In vain from Rama shalt thou flee Though heavenly warriors fight for thee. Thine arm subdued, securely bold, The Vulture-king infirm and old: But will thy puny strength avail When Raghu's wrathful sons assail? A captive in thy palace lies The lady of the lotus eyes: Thou knowest not how fierce and strong Is he whom thou hast dared to wrong. The best of Raghu's lineage, he Whose conquering hand shall punish thee."

How through the square he made his way To chambers where the women lay, Within the Asoka garden came And there found Rama's captive dame. His colloquy with her he sought, And giving of the ring he brought. How Sita gave a gem o'erjoyed; How Hanuman the grove destroyed. How giantesses trembling fled, And servant fiends were smitten dead. How Hanuman was seized; their ire When Lanka blazed with hostile fire. His leap across the sea once more; The eating of the honey store. How Rama he consoled, and how He showed the gem from Sita's brow. With Ocean, Rama's interview; The bridge that Nala o'er it threw. The crossing, and the sitting down At night round Lanka's royal town. The treaty with Vibhishan made: The plan for Ravan's slaughter laid. How Kumbhakarna in his pride And Meghanada fought and died. How Ravan in the fight was slain, And captive Sita brought again. Vibhishan set upon the throne; The flying chariot Pushpak shown. How Brahma and the Gods appeared, And Sita's doubted honour cleared. How in the flying car they rode To Bharadvaja's cabin abode. The Wind-God's son sent on afar; How Bharat met the flying car. How Rama then was king ordained; The legions their discharge obtained. How Rama cast his queen away; How grew the people's love each day. Thus did the saint Valmiki tell Whate'er in Rama's life befell, And in the closing verses all That yet to come will once befall.