Ramayana on Children

Obedient Saran eyed the van, The leaders marked, and thus began: "That chief conspicuous at the head Of warriors in the forest bred, Who hither bends his ruthless eye And shouts his fearful battle cry: Whose voice with pealing thunder shakes All Lanka, with the groves and lakes And hills that tremble at the sound, Is Nila, for his might renowned: First of the Vanar lords controlled By King Sugriva lofty-souled. He who his mighty arm extends, And his fierce eye on Lanka bends, In stature like a stately tower, In colour like a lotus flower, Who with his wild earth-shaking cries Thee, Ravan, to the field defies, Is Angad, by Sugriva's care Anointed his imperial heir: In wondrous strength, in martial fire Peer of King Bali's self, his sire; For Rama's sake in arms arrayed Like Varun called to Sakra's aid. Behind him, girt by warlike bands, Nala the mighty Vanar stands, The son of Visvakarma, he Who built the bridge athwart the sea. Look farther yet, O King, and mark That chieftain clothed in Sandal bark. 'Tis Sweta, famed among his peers, A sage whom all his race reveres. See, in Sugriva's ear he speaks, Then, hasting back, his post reseeks, And turns his practised eye to view The squadrons he has formed anew. Next Kumud stands who roamed of yore On Gomati's(939) delightful shore, Feared where the waving woods invest His seat on Mount Sanrochan's crest. Next him a chieftain strong and dread, Comes Chanda at his legions' head; Exulting in his warrior might He hastens, burning for the fight, And boasts that his unaided powers Shall cast to earth thy walls and towers. Mark, mark that chief of lion gait, Who views thee with a glance of hate As though his very eyes would burn The city walls to which they turn: 'Tis Rambha, Vanar king; he dwells In Krishnagiri's tangled dells, Where Vindhya's pleasant slopes are spread And fair Sudarsan lifts his head. There, listening with erected ears, Sarabha, mighty chief, appears.

At dead of night the Vanar bands Rushed on with torches in their hands. Scared by the coming of the host Each giant warder left his post. Where'er the Vanar legions came Their way was marked with hostile flame That spread in fury to devour Palace and temple, gate and tower. Down came the walls and porches, down Came stately piles that graced the town. In many a house the fire was red, On sandal wood and aloe fed. And scorching flames in billows rolled O'er diamonds and pearls and gold. On cloth of wool, on silk brocade, On linen robes their fury preyed. Wheels, poles and yokes were burned, and all The coursers' harness in the stall; And elephants' and chariots' gear, The sword, the buckler, and the spear. Scared by the crash of falling beams, Mid lamentations, groans and screams, Forth rushed the giants through the flames And with them dragged bewildered dames, Each, with o'erwhelming terror wild, Still clasping to her breast a child. The swift fire from a cloud of smoke Through many a gilded lattice broke, And, melting pearl and coral, rose O'er balconies and porticoes. The startled crane and peacock screamed As with strange light the courtyard gleamed, And fierce unusual glare was thrown On shrinking wood and heated stone. From burning stall and stable freed Rushed frantic elephant and steed, And goaded by the driving blaze Fled wildly through the crowded ways. As earth with fervent heat will glow When comes her final overthrow; From gate to gate, from court to spire Proud Lanka was one blaze of fire, And every headland, rock and bay Shone bright a hundred leagues away. Forth, blinded by the heat and flame Ran countless giants huge of frame; And, mustering for fierce attack, The Vanars charged to drive them back, While shout and scream and roar and cry Reechoed through the earth and sky. There Rama stood with strength renewed, And ever, as the foe he viewed, Shaking the distant regions rang His mighty bow's tremendous clang.

To all the princes, young and brave, His soul with fond affection clave; Around his loving heart they clung Like arms from his own body sprung.(259) But best and noblest of the four, Good as the God whom all adore, Lord of all virtues, undefiled, His darling was his eldest child. For he was beautiful and strong, From envy free, the foe of wrong, With all his father's virtues blest, And peerless in the world confessed. With placid soul he softly spoke: No harsh reply could taunts provoke. He ever loved the good and sage Revered for virtue and for age, And when his martial tasks were o'er Sate listening to their peaceful lore. Wise, modest, pure, he honoured eld, His lips from lying tales withheld; Due reverence to the Brahmans gave, And ruled each passion like a slave. Most tender, prompt at duty's call, Loved by all men he loved them all. Proud of the duties of his race, With spirit meet for Warrior's place. He strove to win by glorious deed, Throned with the Gods, a priceless meed. With him in speech and quick reply Vrihaspati might hardly vie, But never would his accents flow For evil or for empty show. In art and science duly trained, His student vow he well maintained; He learnt the lore for princes fit, The Vedas and their Holy Writ, And with his well-drawn bow at last His mighty father's fame surpassed. Of birth exalted, truthful, just, With vigorous hand, with noble trust, Well taught by aged twice-born men Who gain and right could clearly ken, Full well the claims and bounds he knew Of duty, gain, and pleasure too: Of memory keen, of ready tact, In civil business prompt to act. Reserved, his features ne'er disclosed What counsel in his heart reposed. All idle rage and mirth controlled, He knew the times to give and hold, Firm in his faith, of steadfast will, He sought no wrong, he spoke no ill: Not rashly swift, not idly slow, His faults and others' keen to know. Each merit, by his subtle sense; He matched with proper recompense.

So Rama kept unshaken still His noble heart with iron will. To his dear brother next he turned, Whose glaring eyes with fury burned, Indignant, panting like a snake, And thus again his counsel spake: "Thine anger and thy grief restrain, And firm in duty's path remain. Dear brother, lay thy scorn aside, And be the right thy joy and pride. Thy ready zeal and thoughtful care To aid what rites should grace the heir,-- These 'tis another's now to ask; Come, gird thee for thy noble task, That Bharat's throning rites may he Graced with the things prepared for me. And with thy gentle care provide That her fond heart, now sorely tried With fear and longing for my sake, With doubt and dread may never ache. To know that thoughts of coming ill One hour that tender bosom fill With agony and dark despair Is grief too great for me to bear. I cannot, brother, call to mind One wilful fault or undesigned, When I have pained in anything My mothers or my sire the king. The right my father keeps in view, In promise, word, and action true; Let him then all his fear dismiss, Nor dread the loss of future bliss. He fears his truth herein will fail: Hence bitter thoughts his heart assail. He trembles lest the rites proceed, And at his pangs my heart should bleed. So now this earnest wish is mine, The consecration to resign, And from this city turn away To the wild wood with no delay. My banishment to-day will free Kaikeyi from her cares, that she, At last contented and elate, May Bharat's throning celebrate. Then will the lady's trouble cease, Then will her heart have joy and peace, When wandering in the wood I wear Deerskin, and bark, and matted hair. Nor shall by me his heart be grieved Whose choice approved, whose mind conceived This counsel which I follow. No, Forth to the forest will I go. 'Tis Fate, Sumitras son, confess, That sends me to the wilderness. 'Tis Fate alone that gives away To other hands the royal sway.

A bounteous saint, as all have heard, A boon upon thy sire conferred, And all the eloquence revealed That fills the wood, the flood, the field. No creature walked, or swam, or flew, But he its varied language knew. One morn upon his couch he heard The chattering of a gorgeous bird. And as he marked its close intent He laughed aloud in merriment. Thy mother furious with her lord, And fain to perish by the cord, Said to her husband: "I would know, O Monarch, why thou laughest so." The king in answer spake again: "If I this laughter should explain, This very hour would be my last, For death, be sure would follow fast." Again thy mother, flushed with ire, To Kekaya spake, thy royal sire: "Tell me the cause; then live or die: I will not brook thy laugh, not I." Thus by his darling wife addressed, The king whose might all earth confessed, To that kind saint his story told Who gave the wondrous gift of old. He listened to the king's complaint, And thus in answer spoke the saint: "King, let her quit thy home or die, But never with her prayer comply." The saint's reply his trouble stilled, And all his heart with pleasure filled. Thy mother from his home he sent, And days like Lord Kuvera's spent. So thou wouldst force the king, misled By thee, in evil paths to tread, And bent on evil wouldst begin, Through folly, this career of sin. Most true, methinks, in thee is shown The ancient saw so widely known: The sons their fathers' worth declare And girls their mothers' nature share. So be not thou. For pity's sake Accept the word the monarch spake. Thy husband's will, O Queen, obey, And be the people's hope and stay, O, do not, urged by folly, draw The king to tread on duty's law. The lord who all the world sustains, Bright as the God o'er Gods who reigns. Our glorious king, by sin unstained, Will never grant what fraud obtained; No shade of fault in him is seen: Let Rama be anointed, Queen.

When, best of all who give delight, Her Rama wandered far from sight, Kausalya weeping, sore distressed, The king her husband thus addressed: "Thy name, O Monarch, far and wide Through the three worlds is glorified: Yet Rama's is the pitying mind, His speed is true, his heart is kind. How will thy sons, good lord, sustain With Sita, all their care and pain? How in the wild endure distress, Nursed in the lap of tenderness? How will the dear Videhan bear The heat and cold when wandering there Bred in the bliss of princely state, So young and fair and delicate? The large-eyed lady, wont to eat The best of finely seasoned meat-- How will she now her life sustain With woodland fare of self-sown grain? Will she, with joys encompassed long, Who loved the music and the song, In the wild wood endure to hear The ravening lion's voice of fear? Where sleeps my strong-armed hero, where, Like Lord Mahendra's standard, fair? Where is, by Lakshman's side, his bed, His club-like arm beneath his head? When shall I see his flower-like eyes, And face that with the lotus vies, Feel his sweet lily breath, and view His glorious hair and lotus hue? The heart within my breast, I feel, Is adamant or hardest steel, Or, in a thousand fragments split, The loss of him had shattered it, When those I love, who should be blest, Are wandering in the wood distressed, Condemned their wretched lives to lead In exile, by thy ruthless deed. If, when the fourteen years are past, Rama reseeks his home at last, I think not Bharat will consent To yield the wealth and government. At funeral feasts some mourners deal To kith and kin the solemn meal, And having duly fed them all Some Brahmans to the banquet call. The best of Brahmans, good and wise, The tardy summoning despise, And, equal to the Gods, disdain Cups, e'en of Amrit, thus to drain. Nay e'en when Brahmans first have fed, They loathe the meal for others spread, And from the leavings turn with scorn, As bulls avoid a fractured horn.

The prudent prince the assembly viewed Thronged with its noble multitude, Resplendent as a cloudless night When the full moon is in his height; While robes of every varied hue A glory o'er the synod threw. The priest in lore of duty skilled Looked on the crowd the hall that filled, And then in accents soft and grave To Bharat thus his counsel gave: "The king, dear son, so good and wise, Has gone from earth and gained the skies, Leaving to thee, her rightful lord, This rich wide land with foison stored. And still has faithful Rama stood Firm to the duty of the good, And kept his father's hest aright, As the moon keeps its own dear light. Thus sire and brother yield to thee This realm from all annoyance free: Rejoice thy lords: enjoy thine own: Anointed king, ascend the throne. Let vassal Princes hasten forth From distant lands, west, south, and north, From Kerala,(360) from every sea, And bring ten million gems to thee." As thus the sage Vasishtha spoke, A storm of grief o'er Bharat broke. And longing to be just and true, His thoughts to duteous Rama flew. With sobs and sighs and broken tones, E'en as a wounded mallard moans, He mourned with deepest sorrow moved, And thus the holy priest reproved: "O, how can such as Bharat dare The power and sway from him to tear, Wise, and devout, and true, and chaste, With Scripture lore and virtue graced? Can one of Dasaratha's seed Be guilty of so vile a deed? The realm and I are Rama's: thou, Shouldst speak the words of justice now. For he, to claims of virtue true, Is eldest born and noblest too: Nahush, Dilipa could not be More famous in their lives than he. As Dasaratha ruled of right, So Rama's is the power and right. If I should do this sinful deed And forfeit hope of heavenly meed, My guilty act would dim the shine Of old Ikshvaku's glorious line. Nay, as the sin my mother wrought Is grievous to my inmost thought, I here, my hands together laid, Will greet him in the pathless shade.

In eager haste thus Lakshman cried, And Rama, lion lord, replied: "Still closer be the army scanned, And say who leads the warlike band." Lakshman his answer thus returned, As furious rage within him burned, Exciting him like kindled fire To scorch the army in his ire: "'Tis Bharat: he has made the throne By consecrating rites his own: To gain the whole dominion thus He comes in arms to slaughter us. I mark tree-high upon his car His flagstaff of the Kovidar,(376) I see his glittering banner glance, I see his chivalry advance: I see his eager warriors shine On elephants in lengthened line. Now grasp we each the shafts and bow, And higher up the mountain go. Or in this place, O hero, stand With weapons in each ready hand. Perhaps beneath our might may fall This leader of the standard tall, And Bharat I this day may see Who brought this mighty woe on thee, Sita, and me, who drove away My brother from the royal sway. Bharat our foe at length is nigh, And by this hand shall surely die: Brother, I see no sin at all If Bharat by my weapon fall. No fault is his who slays the foe Whose hand was first to strike the blow: With Bharat now the crime begins Who against thee and duty sins. The queen athirst for royal sway Will see her darling son to-day Fall by this hand, like some fair tree Struck by an elephant, slain by me. Kaikeyi's self shall perish too With kith and kin and retinue, And earth by my avenging deed Shall from this mass of sin be freed. This day my wrath, too long restrained, Shall fall upon the foe, unchained, Mad as the kindled flame that speeds Destroying through the grass and reeds. This day mine arrows keen and fierce The bodies of the foe shall pierce: The woods on Chitrakuta's side Shall run with torrents crimson-dyed. The wandering beasts of prey shall feed On heart-cleft elephant and steed, And drag to mountain caves away The bodies that my arrows slay.

Thus Rama soothed his brother's grief: Then virtuous Javali, chief Of twice-born sages, thus replied In words that virtue's law defied: "Hail, Raghu's princely son, dismiss A thought so weak and vain as this. Canst thou, with lofty heart endowed, Think with the dull ignoble crowd? For what are ties of kindred? can One profit by a brother man? Alone the babe first opes his eyes, And all alone at last he dies. The man, I ween, has little sense Who looks with foolish reverence On father's or on mother's name: In others, none a right may claim. E'en as a man may leave his home And to a distant village roam, Then from his lodging turn away And journey on the following day, Such brief possession mortals hold In sire and mother, house and gold, And never will the good and wise The brief uncertain lodging prize. Nor, best of men, shouldst thou disown Thy sire's hereditary throne, And tread the rough and stony ground Where hardship, danger, woes abound. Come, let Ayodhya rich and bright See thee enthroned with every rite: Her tresses bound in single braid(387) She waits thy coming long delayed. O come, thou royal Prince, and share The kingly joys that wait thee there, And live in bliss transcending price As Indra lives in Paradise. The parted king is naught to thee, Nor right in living man has he: The king is one, thou, Prince of men, Another art: be counselled then. Thy royal sire, O chief, has sped On the long path we all must tread. The common lot of all is this, And thou in vain art robbed of bliss. For those--and only those--I weep Who to the path of duty keep; For here they suffer ceaseless woe, And dying to destruction go. With pious care, each solemn day, Will men their funeral offerings pay: See, how the useful food they waste: He who is dead no more can taste. If one is fed, his strength renewed Whene'er his brother takes his food, Then offerings to the parted pay: Scarce will they serve him on his way.

Soon as the words he loved to hear Fell upon Bharat's joyful ear, Thus to the charioteer he spoke: "My car with speed, Sumantra, yoke." Then Bharat with delighted mien Obeisance paid to every queen, And with Satrughna by his side Mounting the car away he hied. With lords, and priests in long array The brothers hastened on their way. And the great pomp the Brahmans led With Saint Vasishtha at their head. Then every face was eastward bent As on to Nandigram they went. Behind the army followed, all Unsummoned by their leader's call, And steeds and elephants and men Streamed forth with every citizen. As Bharat in his chariot rode His heart with love fraternal glowed, And with the sandals on his head To Nandigram he quickly sped. Within the town he swiftly pressed, Alighted, and his guides addressed: "To me in trust my brother's hand Consigned the lordship of the land, When he these gold-wrought sandals gave As emblems to protect and save." Then Bharat bowed, and from his head The sacred pledge deposited, And thus to all the people cried Who ringed him round on every side: "Haste, for these sandals quickly bring The canopy that shades the king. Pay ye to them all reverence meet As to my elder brother's feet, For they will right and law maintain Until King Rama come again. My brother with a loving mind These sandals to my charge consigned: I till he come will guard with care The sacred trust for Raghu's heir. My watchful task will soon be done, The pledge restored to Raghu's son; Then shall I see, his wanderings o'er, These sandals on his feet once more. My brother I shall meet at last, The burthen from my shoulders cast, To Rama's hand the realm restore And serve my elder as before. When Rama takes again this pair Of sandals kept with pious care, And here his glorious reign begins, I shall be cleansed from all my sins, When the glad people's voices ring With welcome to the new-made king, Joy will be mine four-fold as great As if supreme I ruled the state."

He spoke: the monarch gave assent, And Rama to the hermit lent. So to his woodland home in joy Went Visvamitra with the boy. With ready bow the champion stood To guard the rites in Dandak wood. With glorious eyes, most bright to view, Beardless as yet and dark of hue; A single robe his only wear, His temples veiled with waving hair, Around his neck a chain of gold, He grasped the bow he loved to hold; And the young hero's presence made A glory in the forest shade. Thus Rama with his beauteous mien, Like the young rising moon was seen, I, like a cloud which tempest brings, My arms adorned with golden rings, Proud of the boon which lent me might, Approached where dwelt the anchorite. But Rama saw me venturing nigh, Raising my murderous axe on high; He saw, and fearless of the foe, Strung with calm hand his trusty bow. By pride of conscious strength beguiled, I scorned him as a feeble child, And rushed with an impetuous bound On Visvamitra's holy ground. A keen swift shaft he pointed well, The foeman's rage to check and quell, And hurled a hundred leagues away Deep in the ocean waves I lay. He would not kill, but, nobly brave, My forfeit life he chose to save. So there I lay with wandering sense Dazed by that arrow's violence. Long in the sea I lay: at length Slowly returned my sense and strength, And rising from my watery bed To Lanka's town again I sped. Thus was I spared, but all my band Fell slain by Rama's conquering hand,-- A boy, untrained in warrior's skill, Of iron arm and dauntless will. If thou with Rama still, in spite Of warning and of prayer, wilt fight, I see terrific woes impend, And dire defeat thy days will end. Thy giants all will feel the blow And share the fatal overthrow, Who love the taste of joy and play, The banquet and the festal day. Thine eyes will see destruction take Thy Lanka, lost for Sita's sake, And stately pile and palace fall With terrace, dome, and jewelled wall.

"O thou whose silken robes enfold A form more fair than finest gold, With lotus garland on thy head, Like a sweet spring with bloom o'erspread, Who art thou, fair one, what thy name, Beauty, or Honour, Fortune, Fame, Spirit, or nymph, or Queen of love Descended from thy home above? Bright as the dazzling jasmine shine Thy small square teeth in level line. Like two black stars aglow with light Thine eyes are large and pure and bright. Thy charms of smile and teeth and hair And winning eyes, O thou most fair, Steal all my spirit, as the flow Of rivers mines the bank below. How bright, how fine each flowing tress! How firm those orbs beneath thy dress! That dainty waist with ease were spanned, Sweet lady, by a lover's hand. Mine eyes, O beauty, ne'er have seen Goddess or nymph so fair of mien, Or bright Gandharva's heavenly dame, Or woman of so perfect frame. In youth's soft prime thy years are few, And earth has naught so fair to view. I marvel one like thee in face Should make the woods her dwelling-place. Leave, lady, leave this lone retreat In forest wilds for thee unmeet, Where giants fierce and strong assume All shapes and wander in the gloom. These dainty feet were formed to tread Some palace floor with carpets spread, Or wander in trim gardens where Each opening bud perfumes the air. The richest robe thy form should deck, The rarest gems adorn thy neck, The sweetest wreath should bind thy hair, The noblest lord thy bed should share. Art thou akin, O fair of form, To Rudras,(498) or the Gods of storm,(499) Or to the glorious Vasus(500)? How Can less than these be bright as thou? But never nymph or heavenly maid Or Goddess haunts this gloomy shade. Here giants roam, a savage race; What led thee to so dire a place? Here monkeys leap from tree to tree, And bears and tigers wander free; Here ravening lions prowl, and fell Hyenas in the thickets yell, And elephants infuriate roam, Mighty and fierce, their woodland home.

So, Lakshman, if my large-eyed dear, The child of Janak still were here, She, by love's thrilling influence led, Upon my breast would lay her head. These blooms I gathered from the bough Without my love are useless now. A thousand blossoms fair to see With passing glory clothe each tree That hangs its cluster-burthened head Now that the dewy months(528) are fled, But, followed by the bees that ply Their fragrant task, they fall and die. A thousand birds in wild delight Their rapture-breathing notes unite; Bird calls to bird in joyous strain, And turns my love to frenzied pain. O, if beneath those alien skies, There be a spring where Sita lies, I know my prisoned love must be Touched with like grief, and mourn with me. But ah, methinks that dreary clime Knows not the touch of spring's sweet time. How could my black eyed love sustain, Without her lord, so dire a pain? Or if the sweet spring come to her In distant lands a prisoner, How may his advent and her met On every side with taunt and threat? Ah, if the springtide's languor came With soft enchantment o'er my dame, My darling of the lotus eye, My gently speaking love, would die; For well my spirit knows that she Can never live bereft of me With love that never wavered yet My Sita's heart, on me is set, Who, with a soul that ne'er can stray, With equal love her love repay. In vain, in vain the soft wind brings Sweet blossoms on his balmy wings; Delicious from his native snow, To me like fire he seems to glow. O, how I loved a breeze like this When darling Sita shared the bliss! But now in vain for me it blows To fan the fury of my woes. That dark-winged bird that sought the skies Foretelling grief with warning cries, Sits on the tree where buds are gay, And pours glad music from the spray. That rover of the fields of air Will aid my love with friendly care, And me with gracious pity guide To my large-eyed Videhan's side.

He ceased: and Rama's heart was stirred At every keen reproach he heard. There Bali lay, a dim dark sun, His course of light and glory run: Or like the bed of Ocean dried Of his broad floods from side to side, Or helpless, as the dying fire, Hushed his last words of righteous ire. Then Rama, with his spirit moved, The Vanar king in turn reproved: "Why dost thou, Bali, thus revile, And castest not a glance the while On claims of duty, love, and gain, And customs o'er the world that reign? Why dost thou blame me, rash and blind, Fickle as all thy Vanar kind, Slighting each rule of ancient days Which all the good and prudent praise? This land, each hill and woody chase, Belongs to old Ikshvaku's race: With bird and beast and man, the whole Is ours to cherish and control. Now Bharat, prompt at duty's call, Wise, just, and true, is lord of all. Each claim of law, love, gain he knows, And wrath and favour duly shows. A king from truth who never bends, And grace with vigour wisely blends; With valour worthy of his race, He knows the claims of time and place. Now we and other kings of might, By his ensample taught aright, The lands of every region tread That justice may increase and spread. While royal Bharat, wise and just, Rules the broad earth, his glorious trust, Who shall attempt, while he is lord, A deed by Justice held abhorred? We now, as Bharat has decreed, Let justice guide our every deed, And toil each sinner to repress Who scorns the way of righteousness. Thou from that path hast turned aside, And virtue's holy law defied, Left the fair path which kings should tread, And followed pleasure's voice instead. The man who cleaves to duty's law Regards these three with filial awe-- The sire, the elder brother, third Him from whose lips his lore he heard. Thus too, for duty's sake, the wise Regard with fond paternal eyes The well-loved younger brother, one Their lore has ripened, and a son.

Fine are the laws which guide the good, Abstruse, and hardly understood; Only the soul, enthroned within The breast of each, knows right from sin. But thou art wild and weak of soul, And spurnest, like thy race, control; The true and right thou canst not find, The blind consulting with the blind. Incline thine ear and I will teach The cause that prompts my present speech. This tempest of thy soul assuage, Nor blame me in thine idle rage. On this great sin thy thoughts bestow, The sin for which I lay thee low. Thou, Bali, in thy brother's life Hast robbed him of his wedded wife, And keepest, scorning ancient right, His Ruma for thine own delight. Thy son's own wife should scarcely be More sacred in thine eyes than she. All duty thou hast scorned, and hence Comes punishment for dire offence. For those who blindly do amiss There is, I ween, no way but this: To check the rash who dare to stray From customs which the good obey, I may not, sprung of Kshatriya line, Forgive this heinous sin of thine: The laws for those who sin like thee The penalty of death decree. Now Bharat rules with sovereign sway, And we his royal word obey. There was no hope of pardon, none, For the vile deed that thou hast done, That wisest monarch dooms to die The wretch whose crimes the law defy; And we, chastising those who err, His righteous doom administer. My soul accounts Sugriva dear E'en as my brother Lakshman here. He brings me blessing, and I swore His wife and kingdom to restore: A bond in solemn honour bound When Vanar chieftains stood around. And can a king like me forsake His friend, and plighted promise break? Reflect, O Vanar, on the cause, The sanction of eternal laws, And, justly smitten down, confess Thou diest for thy wickedness. By honour was I bound to lend Assistance to a faithful friend; And thou hast met a righteous fate Thy former sins to expiate. And thus wilt thou some merit win And make atonement for thy sin.

For hear me, Vanar King, rehearse What Manu(597) spake in ancient verse,-- This holy law, which all accept Who honour duty, have I kept: "Pure grow the sinners kings chastise, And, like the virtuous, gain the skies; By pain or full atonement freed, They reap the fruit of righteous deed, While kings who punish not incur The penalties of those who err." Mandhata(598) once, a noble king, Light of the line from which I spring, Punished with death a devotee When he had stooped to sin like thee; And many a king in ancient time Has punished frantic sinners' crime, And, when their impious blood was spilt, Has washed away the stain of guilt. Cease, Bali, cease: no more complain: Reproaches and laments are vain, For thou art justly punished: we Obey our king and are not free. Once more, O Bali, lend thine ear Another weightiest plea to hear. For this, when heard and pondered well, Will all complaint and rage dispel. My soul will ne'er this deed repent, Nor was my shaft in anger sent. We take the silvan tribes beset With snare and trap and gin and net, And many a heedless deer we smite From thickest shade, concealed from sight. Wild for the slaughter of the game, At stately stags our shafts we aim. We strike them bounding scared away, We strike them as they stand at bay, When careless in the shade they lie, Or scan the plain with watchful eye. They turn away their heads; we aim, And none the eager hunter blame. Each royal saint, well trained in law Of duty, loves his bow to draw And strike the quarry, e'en as thou Hast fallen by mine arrow now, Fighting with him or unaware,-- A Vanar thou.--I little care.(599) But yet, O best of Vanars, know That kings who rule the earth bestow Fruit of pure life and virtuous deed, And lofty duty's hard-won meed. Harm not thy lord the king: abstain From act and word that cause him pain; For kings are children of the skies Who walk this earth in men's disguise.

Again she bent her to the ground, Her arms about her husband wound. Sobbed on his breast, and sick and faint With anguish poured her wild complaint: "Brave in the charge of battle, boast And glory of the Vanar host, Why on the cold earth wilt thou lie And give no answer when I cry? Up, warrior, from thy lowly bed! A meeter couch for thee is spread. It ill beseems a glorious king On the bare ground his limbs to fling. Ah, surely must thy love be strong For her whom thou hast governed long, If thou, my hero, canst recline On her cold breast forsaking mine. Or, famed for justice through the land, Thou on the road to heaven hast planned Some city fairer far than this To be thy new metropolis. Are all our pleasures ended now, With those delicious hours which thou And I, dear lord, together spent In woods that breathed the honey's scent? Whelmed in my sorrow's boundless sea, There is no joy, no hope, for me, When my beloved lord, who led The Vanars to the fight, is dead, My widowed heart is stern and cold. Or, at the sight mine eyes behold, O'ermastered would it end this ache And in a thousand fragments break. Ah noble Vanar, doomed to pay The penalty of all today-- Sugriva from his home expelled, And Ruma(601) from his arms withheld. Our Vanar race and thee to save, Wise counsel for thy weal I gave; But thou, by wildest folly stirred, Wouldst give no credence to my word, And now wilt woo the nymphs above, And shake their souls with pangs of love. Ah, never could it be that thou Beneath Sugriva's power shouldst bow, Thy conqueror is none but Fate Whose mandates all who breathe await. And does no thrill of anguish run Through the stern breast of Raghu's son, Whose base hand dealt a coward's blow, And smote thee fighting with thy foe? Reft of my lord my days, alas! In bitter bitter woe will pass: And I, long blest with every good, Must bear my dreary widowhood.

Through seven wide courts he quickly passed, And reached the royal tower at last, Where seats were set with couch and bed Of gold and silver richly spread. While the young chieftain's feet drew near The sound of music reached his ear, As the soft breathings of the flute Came blending with the voice and lute. Then beauty showed her youth and grace And varied charm of form and face: Soft bright-eyed creatures, fair and young,-- Gay garlands round their necks were hung, And greater charms to each were lent By richest dress and ornament. He saw the calm attendants wait About their lord in careless state, Heard women's girdles chime in sweet Accordance with their tinkling feet. He heard the anklet's silvery sound, He saw the calm that reigned around, And o'er him, as he listened, came A rush of rage, a flood of shame. He drew his bowstring: with the clang From ease to west the welkin rang: Then in his modest mood withdrew A little from the ladies' view. And sternly silent stood apart, While wrath for Rama filled his heart. Sugriva knew the sounding string, And at the call the Vanar king Sprang swiftly from his golden seat, And feared the coming prince to meet. Then with cold lips that terror dried To beauteous Tara thus he cried: "What cause of anger, O my spouse Fair with the charm of lovely brows, Sets Lakshman's gentle breast on fire, And brings him in unwonted ire? Say, canst thou see, O faultless dame, A cause to fill his soul with flame? For there must be a reason when Such fury stirs the king of men. Reveal the sin, if sin of mine Anger the lord of Raghu's line. Or go thyself, his rage subdue, And with soft words his favour woo. Soon as on thee his eyes are set His heart this anger will forget, For men like him of lofty mind Are never stern with womankind. First let thy gentle speech disarm His fury, and his spirit charm, And I, from fear of peril free, The conqueror of his foes will see."

He ceased: and Tara starry-eyed Thus to the angry prince replied: "Not to my lord shouldst thou address A speech so fraught with bitterness: Not thus reproached my lord should be, And least of all, O Prince, by thee. He is no thankless coward--no-- With spirit dead to valour's glow. From paths of truth he never strays, Nor wanders in forbidden ways. Ne'er will Sugriva's heart forget, By Rama saved, the lasting debt. Still in his grateful breast will live The succour none but he could give. Restored to fame by Rama's grace, To empire o'er the Vanar race, From ceaseless dread and toil set free, Restored to Ruma and to me: By grief and care and exile tried, New to the bliss so long denied, Like Visvamitra once, alas, He marks not how the seasons pass. That saint ten thousand years remained, By sweet Ghritachi's(640) love enchained, And deemed those years, that flew away So lightly, but a single day. O, if those years unheeded flew By him who times and seasons knew, Unequalled for his lofty mind, What marvel meaner eyes are blind? Then be not angry, Raghu's son, And let thy brother feel for one Who many a weary year has spent Stranger to love and blandishment. Let not this wrath thy soul inflame, Like some mean wretch unknown to fame: For high and noble hearts like thine Love mercy and to ruth incline, Calm and deliberate, and slow With anger's raging fire to glow. At length, O righteous prince, relent, Nor let my words in vain be spent, This sudden blaze of fury slake, I pray thee for Sugriva's sake. He would renounce at Rama's call Ruma and Angad, me and all Who call him lord: his gold and grain, The favour of his friend to gain. His arm shall slay the fiend more base In soul than all his impious race, And happy Rama reunite To Sita, rival in delight Of the triumphant Moon when he Rejoins his darling Rohini.(641) Ten million million demons guard The gates of Lanka firmly barred. All hope until that host be slain, To smite the robber king is vain.

He ceased: and King Sugriva cried To sage Hanuman(642) by his side: "Summon the Vanar legions, those Who dwell about the Lord of Snows: Those who in Vindhyan groves delight, Kailasa's, or Mahendra's height, Dwell on the Five bright Peaks, or where Mandar's white summit cleaves the air: Wherever they are wandring free In highlands by the western sea, On that east hill whence springs the sun, Or where he sinks when day is done. Call the great chiefs whose legions fill The forests of the Lotus Hill,(643) Where every one in strength and size With the stupendous Anjan(644) vies. Call those, with tints of burnished gold Whom Mahasaila's caverns hold: Those who on Dhumra roam, or hide In the wild woods on Meru's side. Call those who, brilliant as the sun, On high Maharun leap and run, Quaffing sweet juices that distil From odorous trees upon the hill, Call those whom tranquil haunts delight, Where dwell the sage and anchorite In groves that through their wide extent Exhale a thousand blossoms' scent. Send out, send out: from coast to coast Assemble all the Vanar host: With force, with words, with gifts of price Compel, admonish and entice. Already envoys have been sent To warn them of their lord's intent. Let others urged by thee repeat My mandate that their steps be fleet. Those lords who yielding to the sway Of love's delight would fain delay, Urge hither with the utmost speed, Or with thee to my presence lead: And those who linger to the last Until ten days be come and passed, And dare their sovereign to defy, For their offence shall surely die. Thousands, yea millions, shall there be, Obedient to their king's decree, The lions of the Vanar race, Assembled from each distant place, Forth shall they haste like hills in size, Or mighty clouds that veil the skies, And swiftly speeding on their way Bring all our legions in array." He ceased: the son of Vayu(645) heard, Submissive to his sovereign's word; And sent his rapid envoys forth To east and west and south and north.

Then from the flood Sampati paid Due offerings to his brother's shade. He bathed him when the rites were done, And spake again to Bali's son: "Now listen, Prince, while I relate How first I learned the lady's fate. Burnt by the sun's resistless might I fell and lay on Vindhya's height. Seven nights in deadly swoon I passed, But struggling life returned at last. Around I bent my wondering view, But every spot was strange and new. I scanned the sea with eager ken, And rock and brook and lake and glen, I saw gay trees their branches wave, And creepers mantling o'er the cave. I heard the wild birds' joyous song, And waters as they foamed along, And knew the lovely hill must be Mount Vindhya by the southern sea. Revered by heavenly beings, stood Near where I lay, a sacred wood, Where great Nisakar dwelt of yore And pains of awful penance bore. Eight thousand seasons winged their flight Over the toiling anchorite-- Upon that hill my days were spent,-- And then to heaven the hermit went. At last, with long and hard assay, Down from that height I made my way, And wandered through the mountain pass Rough with the spikes of Darbha grass. I with my misery worn, and faint Was eager to behold the saint: For often with Jatayus I Had sought his home in days gone by. As nearer to the grove I drew The breeze with cooling fragrance blew, And not a tree that was not fair, With richest flower and fruit was there. With anxious heart a while I stayed Beneath the trees' delightful shade, And soon the holy hermit, bright With fervent penance, came in sight. Behind him bears and lions, tame As those who know their feeder, came, And tigers, deer, and snakes pursued His steps, a wondrous multitude, And turned obeisant when the sage Had reached his shady hermitage. Then came Nisakar to my side And looked with wondering eyes, and cried: "I knew thee not, so dire a change Has made thy form and feature strange. Where are thy glossy feathers? where The rapid wings that cleft the air?

He ceased: Vidyujjihva obeyed, And wondrous magic skill displayed; And Ravan for the art he showed An ornament of price bestowed. Then to the grove where Sita lay The lord of Lanka took his way. Pale, wasted, weeping, on the ground The melancholy queen he found, Whose thoughts in utmost stress of ill Were fixed upon her husband still. The giant king approached the dame, Declared in tones of joy his name; Then heeding naught her wild distress Bespake her, stern and pitiless: "The prince to whom thy fancies cling Though loved and wooed by Lanka's king, Who slew the noble Khara,--he Is slain by warriors sent by me. Thy living root is hewn away, Thy scornful pride is tamed to-day. Thy lord in battle's front has died, And Sita shall be Ravan's bride. Hence, idle thoughts: thy hope is fled; What wilt thou, Sita, with the dead? Rise, child of Janak, rise and be The queen of all my queens and me. Incline thine ear, and I will tell, Dear lady, how thy husband fell. He bridged his way across the sea With countless troops to fight with me. The setting sun had flushed the west When on the shore they took their rest. Weary with toil no watch they kept, Securely on the sands they slept. Prahasta's troops assailed our foes, And smote them in their deep repose. Scarce could their bravest prove their might: They perished in the dark of night. Axe, spear, and sword, directed well, Upon the sleeping myriads fell. First in the fight Prahasta's sword Reft of his head thy slumbering lord. Roused at the din Vibhishan rose, The captive of surrounding foes, And Lakshman through the woods that spread Around him with his Vanars fled. Hanuman fell: one deadly stroke The neck of King Sugriva broke, And Mainda sank, and Dwivid lay Gasping in blood his life away. The Vanars died, or fled dispersed Like cloudlets when the storm has burst. Some rose aloft in air, and more Ran to the sea and filled the shore. On shore, in woods, on hill and plain Our conquering giants left the slain.

While thus they wept, supreme in place, The loveliest for form and face, Mandodari drew near alone, Looked on her lord and made her moan: "Ah Monarch, Indra feared to stand In fight before thy conquering hand. From thy dread spear the Immortals ran; And art thou murdered by a man? Ah, 'twas no child of earth, I know, That smote thee with that mortal blow. 'Twas Death himself in Rama's shape, That slew thee: Death whom none escape. Or was it he who rules the skies Who met thee, clothed in man's disguise? Ah no, my lord, not Indra: he In battle ne'er could look on thee. One only God thy match I deem: 'Twas Vishnu's self, the Lord Supreme, Whose days through ceaseless time extend And ne'er began and ne'er shall end: He with the discus, shell, and mace, Brought ruin on the giant race. Girt by the Gods of heaven arrayed Like Vanar hosts his strength to aid, He Rama's shape and arms assumed And slew the king whom Fate had doomed. In Janasthan when Khara died With giant legions by his side, No mortal was the unconquered foe In Rama's form who struck the blow. When Hanuman the Vanar came And burnt thy town with hostile flame, I counselled peace in anxious fear: I counselled, but thou wouldst not hear. Thy fancy for the foreign dame Has brought thee death and endless shame. Why should thy foolish fancy roam? Hadst thou not wives as fair at home? In beauty, form and grace could she, Dear lord, surpass or rival me? Now will the days of Sita glide In tranquil joy by Rama's side: And I--ah me, around me raves A sea of woe with whelming waves. With thee in days of old I trod Each spot beloved by nymph and God; I stood with thee in proud delight On Mandar's side and Meru's height; With thee, my lord, enchanted strayed In Chaitraratha's(1013) lovely shade, And viewed each fairest scene afar Transported in thy radiant car. But source of every joy wast thou, And all my bliss is ended now."

He ceased: then rapture loosed each tongue: From men and dames, from old and young, One long, one universal cry, 'Tis he, 'tis Rama, smote the sky. All lighted down with eager speed From elephant and car and steed, And every joyful eye intent On Rama's moonbright face was bent. Entranced a moment Bharat gazed: Then reverential hands he raised, And on his brother humbly pressed The honours due to welcome guest. Then Bharat clomb the car to greet His king and bowed him at his feet, Till Rama raised him face to face And held him in a close embrace. Then Lakshman and the Maithil dame He greeted as he spoke his name(1026) He greeted next, supreme in place, The sovereign of the Vanar race, And Jambavan and Bali's son, And lords and chiefs, omitting none.(1027) Sugriva to his heart he pressed And thus with grateful words addressed: "Four brothers, Vanar king, were we, And now we boast a fifth in thee. By kindly acts a friend we know: Offence and wrong proclaim the foe." To King Vibhishan then he spake: "Well hast thou fought for Rama's sake." Nor was the brave Satrughna slow His reverential love to show To both his brothers, as was meet, And venerate the lady's feet. Then Rama to his mother came, Saw her pale cheek and wasted frame, With gentle words her heart consoled, And clasped her feet with loving hold. Then at Sumitra's feet he bent, And fair Kaikeyi's, reverent, Greeted each dame from chief to least, And bowed him to the household priest. Up rose a shout from all the throng: "O welcome, Rama, mourned so long. Welcome, Kausalya's joy and pride," Ten hundred thousand voices cried. Then Bharat placed, in duty taught, On Rama's feet the shoes he brought: "My King," he cried, "receive again The pledge preserved through years of pain, The rule and lordship of the land Entrusted to my weaker hand. No more I sigh o'er sorrows past, My birth and life are blest at last In the glad sight this day has shown, When Rama comes to rule his own."

"O daughter of a noble line, Whose steps from virtue ne'er decline, Remain, thy duties here pursue, As my fond heart would have thee do. Now hear me, Sita, fair and weak, And do the words that I shall speak. Attend and hear while I explain Each danger in the wood, each pain. Thy lips have spoken: I condemn The foolish words that fell from them. This senseless plan, this wish of thine To live a forest life, resign. The names of trouble and distress Suit well the tangled wilderness. In the wild wood no joy I know, A forest life is nought but woe. The lion in his mountain cave Answers the torrents as they rave, And forth his voice of terror throws: The wood, my love, is full of woes. There mighty monsters fearless play, And in their maddened onset slay The hapless wretch who near them goes: The wood, my love, is full of woes. 'Tis hard to ford each treacherous flood, So thick with crocodiles and mud, Where the wild elephants repose: The wood, my love, is full of woes. Or far from streams the wanderer strays Through thorns and creeper-tangled ways, While round him many a wild-cock crows: The wood, my love, is full of woes. On the cold ground upon a heap Of gathered leaves condemned to sleep, Toil-wearied, will his eyelids close: The wood, my love, is full of woes. Long days and nights must he content His soul with scanty aliment, What fruit the wind from branches blows: The wood, my love, is full of woes. O Sita, while his strength may last, The ascetic in the wood must fast, Coil on his head his matted hair, And bark must be his only wear. To Gods and spirits day by day The ordered worship he must pay, And honour with respectful care Each wandering guest who meets him there. The bathing rites he ne'er must shun At dawn, at noon, at set of sun, Obedient to the law he knows: The wood, my love, is full of woes. To grace the altar must be brought The gift of flowers his hands have sought-- The debt each pious hermit owes: The wood, my love, is full of woes.

While fires of woe consumed her, such Her sad appeal, lamenting much; Then with a wild cry, anguish-wrung, About her husband's neck she clung. Like some she-elephant who bleeds Struck by the hunter's venomed reeds, So in her quivering heart she felt The many wounds his speeches dealt. Then, as the spark from wood is gained,(305) Down rolled the tear so long restrained: The crystal moisture, sprung from woe, From her sweet eyes began to flow, As runs the water from a pair Of lotuses divinely fair. And Sita's face with long dark eyes, Pure as the moon of autumn skies, Faded with weeping, as the buds Of lotuses when sink the floods. Around his wife his arms he strained, Who senseless from her woe remained, And with sweet words, that bade her wake To life again, the hero spake: "I would not with thy woe, my Queen, Buy heaven and all its blissful sheen. Void of all fear am I as He, The self-existent God, can be. I knew not all thy heart till now, Dear lady of the lovely brow, So wished not thee in woods to dwell; Yet there mine arm can guard thee well. Now surely thou, dear love, wast made To dwell with me in green wood shade. And, as a high saint's tender mind Clings to its love for all mankind, So I to thee will ever cling, Sweet daughter of Videha's king. The good, of old, O soft of frame, Honoured this duty's sovereign claim, And I its guidance will not shun, True as light's Queen is to the Sun. I cannot, pride of Janak's line, This journey to the wood decline: My sire's behest, the oath he sware, The claims of truth, all lead me there. One duty, dear the same for aye, Is sire and mother to obey: Should I their orders once transgress My very life were weariness. If glad obedience be denied To father, mother, holy guide, What rites, what service can be done That stern Fate's favour may be won? These three the triple world comprise, O darling of the lovely eyes. Earth has no holy thing like these Whom with all love men seek to please.

(335) The fervent heat that moment ceased, The darkening clouds each hour increased And frogs and deer and peacocks all Rejoiced to see the torrents fall. Their bright wings heavy from the shower, The birds, new-bathed, had scarce the power To reach the branches of the trees Whose high tops swayed beneath the breeze. The fallen rain, and falling still, Hung like a sheet on every hill, Till, with glad deer, each flooded steep Showed glorious as the mighty deep. The torrents down its wooded side Poured, some unstained, while others dyed Gold, ashy, silver, ochre, bore The tints of every mountain ore. In that sweet time, when all are pleased, My arrows and my bow I seized; Keen for the chase, in field or grove, Down Sarju's bank my car I drove. I longed with all my lawless will Some elephant by night to kill, Some buffalo that came to drink, Or tiger, at the river's brink. When all around was dark and still, I heard a pitcher slowly fill, And thought, obscured in deepest shade, An elephant the sound had made. I drew a shaft that glittered bright, Fell as a serpent's venomed bite; I longed to lay the monster dead, And to the mark my arrow sped. Then in the calm of morning, clear A hermit's wailing smote my ear: "Ah me, ah me," he cried, and sank, Pierced by my arrow, on the bank. E'en as the weapon smote his side, I heard a human voice that cried: "Why lights this shaft on one like me, A poor and harmless devotee? I came by night to fill my jar From this lone stream where no men are. Ah, who this deadly shaft has shot? Whom have I wronged, and knew it not? Why should a boy so harmless feel The vengeance of the winged steel? Or who should slay the guiltless son Of hermit sire who injures none, Who dwells retired in woods, and there Supports his life on woodland fare? Ah me, ah me, why am I slain, What booty will the murderer gain? In hermit coils I bind my hair, Coats made of skin and bark I wear.

A thousand beauties fill my hall: Be thou my wife and rule them all. O hear my supplication! why This reasonable prayer deny? Some pity to thy suitor show, For love's hot flames within me glow. This isle a hundred leagues in length, Encompassed by the ocean's strength, Would all the Gods and fiends defy Though led by Him who rules the sky. No God in heaven, no sage on earth, No minstrel of celestial birth, No spirit in the worlds I see A match in power and might for me. What wilt thou do with Rama, him Whose days are short, whose light is dim, Expelled from home and royal sway, Who treads on foot his weary way? Leave the poor mortal to his fate, And wed thee with a worthier mate. My timid love, enjoy with me The prime of youth before it flee. Do not one hour the hope retain To look on Rama's face again. For whom would wildest thought beguile To seek thee in the giants' isle? Say who is he has power to bind In toils of net the rushing wind. Whose is the mighty hand will tame And hold the glory of the flame? In all the worlds above, below, Not one, O fair of form, I know Who from this isle in fight could rend The lady whom these arms defend. Fair Queen, o'er Lanka's island reign, Sole mistress of the wide domain. Gods, rovers of the night like me, And all the world thy slaves will be. O'er thy fair brows and queenly head Let consecrating balm be shed, And sorrow banished from thy breast, Enjoy my love and take thy rest. Here never more thy soul shall know The memory of thy former woe, And here shall thou enjoy the meed Deserved by every virtuous deed. Here garlands glow of flowery twine, With gorgeous hues and scent divine. Take gold and gems and rich attire: Enjoy with me thy heart's desire. There stand, of chariots far the best, The car my brother once possessed. Which, victor in the stricken field, I forced the Lord of Gold to yield. 'Tis wide and high and nobly wrought, Bright as the sun and swift as thought.

The blooms of bright Asokas(526) where The song of wild bees fills the air, And the soft whisper of the boughs Increase my longing for my spouse. The vernal flush of flower and spray Will burn my very soul away. What use, what care have I for life If I no more may see my wife Soft speaker with the glorious hair, And eyes with silken lashes fair? Now is the time when all day long The Koils fill the woods with song. And gardens bloom at spring's sweet touch Which my beloved loved so much. Ah me, Sumitra's son, the fire Of sorrow, sprung from soft desire, Fanned by the charms the spring time shows, Will burn my heart and end my woes, Whose sad eyes look on each fair tree, But my sweet love no more may see. Ah me, Ah me, from hour to hour Love in my soul will wax in power, And spring, upon whose charms I gaze, Whose breath the heat of toil allays, With thoughts of her for whom I strain My hopeless eyes, increase my pain. As fire in summer rages through The forests thick with dry bamboo, So will my fawn eyed love consume My soul o'erwhelmed with thoughts of gloom. Behold, beneath each spreading tree The peacocks dance(527) in frantic glee, And, stirred by all the gales that blow, Their tails with jewelled windows glow, Each bird, in happy love elate, Rejoices with his darling mate. But sights like these of joy and peace My pangs of hopeless love increase. See on the mountain slope above The peahen languishing with love. Behold her now in amorous dance Close to her consort's side advance. He with a laugh of joy and pride Displays his glittering pinions wide; And follows through the tangled dell The partner whom he loves so well. Ah happy bird! no giant's hate Has robbed him of his tender mate; And still beside his loved one he Dances beneath the shade in glee. Ah, in this month when flowers are fair My widowed woe is hard to bear. See, gentle love a home may find In creatures of inferior kind. See how the peahen turns to meet Her consort now with love-drawn feet.

The demon's eye with rage grew red, And thus in furious tone he said: "If thou from fear or sloth decline To match thy strength in war with mine, Where shall I find a champion, say, To meet me burning for the fray?" He spoke: Himalaya, skilled in lore Of eloquence, replied once more, And, angered in his righteous mind, Addressed the chief of demon kind: "The Vanar Bali, brave and wise, Son of the God who rules the skies,(570) Sways, glorious in his high renown, Kishkindha his imperial town. Well may that valiant lord who knows Each art of war his might oppose To thine, in equal battle set, As Namuehi(571) and Indra met. Go, if thy soul desire the fray; To Bali's city speed away, And that unconquered hero meet Whose fame is high for warlike feat." He listened to the Lord of Snow, And, his proud heart with rage aglow, Sped swift away and lighted down By vast Kishkindha, Bali's town. With pointed horns to strike and gore The semblance of a bull he bore, Huge as a cloud that downward bends Ere the full flood of rain descends. Impelled by pride and rage and hate, He thundered at Kishkindha's gate; And with his bellowing, like the sound Of pealing drums, he shook the ground, He rent the earth and prostrate threw The trees that near the portal grew. King Bali from the bowers within Indignant heard the roar and din. Then, moonlike mid the stars, with all His dames he hurried to the wall; And to the fiend this speech, expressed In clear and measured words, addressed: "Know me for monarch. Bali styled, Of Vanar tribes that roam the wild. Say why dost thou this gate molest, And bellowing thus disturb our rest? I know thee, mighty fiend: beware And guard thy life with wiser care." He spoke: and thus the fiend returned, While red with rage his eyeballs burned: "What! speak when all thy dames are nigh And hero-like thy foe defy? Come, meet me in the fight this day, And learn my strength by bold assay. Or shall I spare thee, and relent Until the coming night be spent?

Thus spoke Matanga in his rage, And hastened from the hermitage, When lo, before his wondering eyes Lay the dead bull of mountain size. His hermit soul was nothing slow The doer of the deed to know, And thus the Vanar in a burst Of wild tempestuous wrath he cursed: "Ne'er let that Vanar wander here, For, if he come, his death is near, Whose impious hand with blood has dyed The holy place where I abide, Who threw this demon corse and made A ruin of the pleasant shade. If e'er he plant his wicked feet Within one league of my retreat; Yea, if the villain come so nigh That very hour he needs must die. And let the Vanar lords who dwell In the dark woods that skirt my cell Obey my words, and speeding hence Find them some meeter residence. Here if they dare to stay, on all The terrors of my curse shall fall. They spoil the tender saplings, dear As children which I cherish here, Mar root and branch and leaf and spray, And steal the ripening fruit away. One day I grant, no further hour, To-morrow shall my curse have power, And then each Vanar I may see A stone through countless years shall be." The Vanars heard the curse and hied From sheltering wood and mountain side. King Bali marked their haste and dread, And to the flying leaders said: "Speak, Vanar chiefs, and tell me why From Saint Matanga's grove ye fly To gather round me: is it well With all who in those woodlands dwell?" He spoke: the Vanar leaders told King Bali with his chain of gold What curse the saint had on them laid, Which drove them from their ancient shade. Then royal Bali sought the sage, With reverent hands to soothe his rage. The holy man his suppliant spurned, And to his cell in anger turned. That curse on Bali sorely pressed, And long his conscious soul distressed. Him still the curse and terror keep Afar from Rishyamuka's steep. He dares not to the grove draw nigh, Nay scarce will hither turn his eye. We know what terrors warm him hence, And roam these woods in confidence.

Great trembling seized her frame, and she Fell like a stricken plantain tree. As lie the dead she lay; at length Slowly regaining sense and strength, On the dear head she fixed her eye And cried with very bitter cry: "Ah, when thy cold dead cheek I view, My hero, I am murdered too. Then first a faithful woman's eyes See sorrow, when her husband dies. When thou, my lord, wast nigh to save, Some stealthy hand thy death wound gave. Thou art not dead: rise, hero, rise; Long life was thine, as spake the wise Whose words, I ween, are ever true, For faith lies open to their view. Ah lord, and shall thy head recline On earth's cold breast, forsaking mine, Counting her chill lap dearer far Than I and my caresses are? Ah, is it thus these eyes behold Thy famous bow adorned with gold, Whereon of yore I loved to bind Sweet garlands that my hands had twined? And hast thou sought in heaven a place Amid the founders of thy race, Where in the home deserved so well Thy sires and Dasaratha dwell? Or dost thou shine a brighter star In skies where blest immortals are, Forsaking in thy lofty scorn The race wherein thy sires were born? Turn to my gaze, O turn thine eye: Why are thy cold lips silent, why? When first we met as youth and maid, When in thy hand my hand was laid, Thy promise was thy steps should be Through life in duty's path with me. Remember, faithful still, thy vow, And take me with thee even now. Is that broad bosom where I hung, That neck to which I fondly clung, Where flowery garlands breathed their scent By hungry dogs and vultures rent? Shall no funereal honours grace The parted lord of Raghu's race, Whose bounty liberal fees bestowed, For whom the fires of worship glowed? Kausalya wild with grief will see One sole survivor of the three Who in their hermit garments went To the dark woods in banishment. Then at her cry shall Lakshman tell How, slain by night, the Vanars fell; How to thy side the giants crept, And slew the hero as he slept.

Ranged round the spot where Rama fell Each Vanar chief stood sentinel. At length the mighty hero broke The trance that held him, and awoke. He saw his senseless brother, dyed With blood from head to foot, and cried: "What have I now to do with life Or rescue of my prisoned wife, When thus before my weeping eyes, Slain in the fight, my brother lies? A queen like Sita I may find Among the best of womankind, But never such a brother, tried In war, my guardian, friend, and guide. If he be dead, the brave and true, I will not live but perish too. How, reft of Lakshman, shall I meet My mother, and Kaikeyi greet? My brother's eager question brook, And fond Sumitra's longing look? What shall I say, o'erwhelmed with shame To cheer the miserable dame? How, when she hears her son is dead, Will her sad heart be comforted? Ah me, for longer life unfit This mortal body will I quit; For Lakshman slaughtered for my sake, From sleep of death will never wake. Ah when I sank oppressed with care, Thy gentle voice could soothe despair. And art thou, O my brother, killed? Is that dear voice for ever stilled? Cold are those lips, my brother, whence Came never word to breed offence? Ah stretched upon the gory plain My brother lies untimely slain: Numbed is the mighty arm that slew The leaders of the giant crew. Transfixed with shafts, with blood-streams red, Thou liest on thy lowly bed: So sinks to rest, his journey done, Mid arrowy rays the crimson sun. Thou, when from home and sire I fled, The wood's wild ways with me wouldst tread: Now close to thine my steps shall be, For I in death will follow thee. Vibhishan now will curse my name, And Rama as a braggart blame, Who promised--but his word is vain-- That he in Lanka's isle should reign. Return, Sugriva: reft of me Lead back thy Vanars o'er the sea, Nor hope to battle face to face With him who rules the giant race. Well have ye done and nobly fought, And death in desperate combat sought.

With amorous look and soft address The fiend began his suit to press: "Why wouldst thou, lady lotus-eyed, From my fond glance those beauties hide? Mine eager suit no more repel: But love me, for I love thee well. Dismiss, sweet dame, dismiss thy fear; No giant and no man is near. Ours is the right by force to seize What dames soe'er our fancy please.(828) But I with rude hands will not touch A lady whom I love so much. Fear not, dear queen: no fear is nigh: Come, on thy lover's love rely, Some little sign of favor show, Nor lie enamoured of thy woe. Those limbs upon that cold earth laid, Those tresses twined in single braid,(829) The fast and woe that wear thy frame, Beseem not thee, O beauteous dame. For thee the fairest wreaths were meant, The sandal and the aloe's scent, Rich ornaments and pearls of price, And vesture meet for Paradise. With dainty cates shouldst thou be fed, And rest upon a sumptuous bed. And festive joys to thee belong, The music, and the dance and song. Rise, pearl of women, rise and deck With gems and chains thine arms and neck. Shall not the dame I love be seen In vesture worthy of a queen? Methinks when thy sweet form was made His hand the wise Creator stayed; For never more did he design A beauty meet to rival thine. Come, let us love while yet we may, For youth will fly and charms decay, Come cast thy grief and fear aside, And be my love, my chosen bride. The gems and jewels that my hand Has reft from every plundered land,-- To thee I give them all this day, And at thy feet my kingdom lay. The broad rich earth will I o'errun, And leave no town unconquered, none; Then of the whole an offering make To Janak,(830) dear, for thy sweet sake. In all the world no power I see Of God or man can strive with me. Of old the Gods and Asurs set In terrible array I met: Their scattered hosts to earth I beat, And trod their flags beneath my feet. Come, taste of bliss and drink thy fill, And rule the slave who serves thy will.

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.

"Your favour, gracious lords, I claim, O'erwhelmed with this enormous shame That Brahmans, great and pure as you, Who should be sought, to me should sue." And then before the saintly crowd, "What can I do?" I cried aloud. Then from the trembling hermits broke One long sad cry, and thus they spoke: "Fiends of the wood, who wear at will Each varied shape, afflict us still. To thee in our distress we fly: O help us, Rama, or we die. When sacred rites of fire are due, When changing moons are full or new, These fiends who bleeding flesh devour Assail us with resistless power. They with their cruel might torment The hermits on their vows intent: We look around for help and see Our surest refuge, Prince, in thee. We, armed with powers of penance, might Destroy the rovers of the night: But loth were we to bring to naught The merit years of toil have bought. Our penance rites are grown too hard, By many a check and trouble barred, But though our saints for food are slain The withering curse we yet restrain. Thus many a weary day distressed By giants who this wood infest, We see at length deliverance, thou With Lakshman art our guardian now."

He spoke: the younger prince obeyed: Within the bounds his way he made, And thus addressed, whom first he met, A pupil of the anchoret:

"My boy as yet in arms untrained The age of twelve has scarce attained. But I myself a host will lead To guard thee in the hour of need. My host with fourfold troops complete, The rover of the night shall meet, And I, O best of saints, will kill Thy foeman and thy prayer fulfil." The king vouchsafed his willing aid: The saint again this answer made:

Thus Bali spake in gentlest tone: Soft arms about his neck were thrown; Then round her lord the lady went With sad steps slow and reverent. She stood in solemn guise to bless With prayers for safety and success, Then with her train her chamber sought By grief and racking fear distraught.