Ramayana on Children

Then when the people wroth and sad Saw Sita in bark vesture clad, Though wedded, like some widowed thing, They cried out, "Shame upon thee, King!" Grieved by their cry and angry look The lord of earth at once forsook All hope in life that still remained, In duty, self, and fame unstained. Ikshvaku's son with burning sighs On Queen Kaikeyi bent his eyes, And said: "But Sita must not flee In garments of a devotee. My holy guide has spoken truth: Unfit is she in tender youth, So gently nurtured, soft and fair, The hardships of the wood to share. How has she sinned, devout and true, The noblest monarch's child, That she should garb of bark indue And journey to the wild? That she should spend her youthful days Amid a hermit band, Like some poor mendicant who strays Sore troubled, through the land? Ah, let the child of Janak throw Her dress of bark aside, And let the royal lady go With royal wealth supplied. Not such the pledge I gave before, Unfit to linger here: The oath, which I the sinner swore Is kept, and leaves her clear. Won from her childlike love this too My instant death would be, As blossoms on the old bamboo Destroy the parent tree.(313) If aught amiss by Rama done Offend thee, O thou wicked one, What least transgression canst thou find In her, thou worst of womankind? What shade of fault in her appears, Whose full soft eye is like the deer's? What canst thou blame in Janak's child, So gentle, modest, true, and mild? Is not one crime complete, that sent My Rama forth to banishment? And wilt thou other sins commit, Thou wicked one, to double it? This is the pledge and oath I swore, What thou besoughtest, and no more, Of Rama--for I heard thee, dame-- When he for consecration came. Now with this limit not content, In hell should be thy punishment, Who fain the Maithil bride wouldst press To clothe her limbs with hermit dress."

The father, swift to feel for woe, Shall on his friend his child bestow; And he shall take her and depart To his own town with joyous heart. The maiden home in triumph led, To Rishyasring the king shall wed. And he with loving joy and pride Shall take her for his honoured bride. And Dasaratha to a rite That best of Brahmans shall invite With supplicating prayer, To celebrate the sacrifice To win him sons and Paradise,(83) That he will fain prepare. From him the lord of men at length The boon he seeks shall gain, And see four sons of boundless strength His royal line maintain." "Thus did the godlike saint of old The will of fate declare, And all that should befall unfold Amid the sages there. O Prince supreme of men, go thou, Consult thy holy guide, And win, to aid thee in thy vow, This Brahman to thy side." Sumantra's counsel, wise and good, King Dasaratha heard, Then by Vasishtha's side he stood And thus with him conferred: "Sumantra counsels thus: do thou My priestly guide, the plan allow." Vasishtha gave his glad consent, And forth the happy monarch went With lords and servants on the road That led to Rishyasring's abode. Forests and rivers duly past, He reached the distant town at last Of Lomapad the Angas' king, And entered it with welcoming. On through the crowded streets he came, And, radiant as the kindled flame, He saw within the monarch's house The hermit's son most glorious. There Lomapad, with joyful breast, To him all honour paid, For friendship for his royal guest His faithful bosom swayed. Thus entertained with utmost care Seven days, or eight, he tarried there, And then that best of men thus broke His purpose to the king, and spoke: "O King of men, mine ancient friend, (Thus Dasaratha prayed) Thy Santa with her husband send My sacrifice to aid." Said he who ruled the Angas, Yea, And his consent was won: And then at once he turned away To warn the hermit's son.

The glorious chief his speech renewed To faithful Lakshman as he sued, And on the eyes of Rama gazed Longing to lead, with hands upraised: "Thou art a hero just and dear, Whose steps to virtue's path adhere, Loved as my life till life shall end, My faithful brother and my friend. If to the woods thou take thy way With Sita and with me to-day, Who for Kausalya will provide, And guard the good Sumitra's side? The lord of earth, of mighty power, Who sends good things in plenteous shower, As Indra pours the grateful rain, A captive lies in passion's chain. The power imperial for her son Has Asvapati's daughter(306) won, And she, proud queen, will little heed Her miserable rivals' need. So Bharat, ruler of the land, By Queen Kaikeyi's side will stand, Nor of those two will ever think, While grieving in despair they sink. Now, Lakshman, as thy love decrees, Or else the monarch's heart to please, Follow this counsel and protect My honoured mother from neglect. So thou, while not to me alone Thy great affection will be shown, To highest duty wilt adhere By serving those thou shouldst revere. Now, son of Raghu, for my sake Obey this one request I make, Or, of her darling son bereft, Kausalya has no comfort left."

That night they slept and took their rest; And then the mighty saint addressed, With pleasant smile and accents mild These words to Raghu's princely child: "Well pleased am I. High fate be thine, Thou scion of a royal line. Now will I, for I love thee so, All heavenly arms on thee bestow. Victor with these, whoe'er oppose, Thy hand shall conquer all thy foes, Though Gods and spirits of the air, Serpents and fiends, the conflict dare. I'll give thee as a pledge of love The mystic arms they use above, For worthy thou to have revealed The weapons I have learnt to wield.(165) First, son of Raghu, shall be thine The arm of Vengeance, strong, divine: The arm of Fate, the arm of Right, And Vishnu's arm of awful might: That, before which no foe can stand, The thunderbolt of Indra's hand; And Siva's trident, sharp and dread, And that dire weapon Brahma's Head. And two fair clubs, O royal child, One Charmer and one Pointed styled With flame of lambent fire aglow, On thee, O Chieftain, I bestow. And Fate's dread net and Justice' noose That none may conquer, for thy use: And the great cord, renowned of old, Which Varun ever loves to hold. Take these two thunderbolts, which I Have got for thee, the Moist and Dry. Here Siva's dart to thee I yield, And that which Vishnu wont to wield. I give to thee the arm of Fire, Desired by all and named the Spire. To thee I grant the Wind-God's dart, Named Crusher, O thou pure of heart, This arm, the Horse's Head, accept, And this, the Curlew's Bill yclept, And these two spears, the best e'er flew, Named the Invincible and True. And arms of fiends I make thine own, Skull-wreath and mace that smashes bone. And Joyous, which the spirits bear, Great weapon of the sons of air. Brave offspring of the best of lords, I give thee now the Gem of swords, And offer next, thine hand to arm, The heavenly bards' beloved charm.

Nor would Sumitra's valiant son(982) The might of Kumbhakarna shun, Who through his harness felt the sting Of keen shafts loosened from the string. His heart confessed the warrior's power, And, bleeding from the ceaseless shower That smote him on the chest and side, With words like these the giant cried: "Well fought, well fought, Sumitra's son; Eternal glory hast thou won, For thou in desperate fight hast met The victor never conquered yet, Whom, borne on huge Airavat's back, E'en Indra trembles to attack. Go, son of Queen Sumitra, go: Thy valour and thy strength I know. Now all my hope and earnest will Is Rama in the fight to kill. Let him beneath my weapons fall, And I will meet and conquer all."

Facing the east, the glorious saint Pure from all spot of earthly taint, To Rama, with delighted mind, That noble host of spells consigned. He taught the arms, whose lore is won Hardly by Gods, to Raghu's son. He muttered low the spell whose call Summons those arms and rules them all And, each in visible form and frame, Before the monarch's son they came. They stood and spoke in reverent guise To Rama with exulting cries: "O noblest child of Raghu, see, Thy ministers and thralls are we." With joyful heart and eager hand Rama received the wondrous band, And thus with words of welcome cried: "Aye present to my will abide." Then hasted to the saint to pay Due reverence, and pursued his way.

The monarch ceased. In answer came The joyous princes' glad acclaim. So peacocks in the rain rejoice And hail the cloud with lifted voice. Murmurs of joy from thousands round Shook the high palace with the sound. Then when the gathered throng had learned His will who right and gain discerned, Peasant and townsman, priest and chief, All met in consultation brief, And soon agreed with one accord Gave answer to their sovereign lord: "King of the land, we know thee old: Thousands of years have o'er thee rolled, Rama thy son, we pray, anoint, And at thy side his place appoint Our gallant prince, so brave and strong, Riding in royal state along, Our eyes with joyful pride will see Screened by the shade that shelters thee." Then spake the king again, as though Their hearts' true wish he sought to know: "These prayers for Rama's rule suggest One question to my doubting breast. This thing, I pray, with truth explain: Why would ye, while I justly reign, That he, mine eldest son, should bear His part with me as ruling heir?" Then all the people made reply, Peasant and townsman, low and high: "Each noblest gift of form and mind, O Monarch, in thy son we find. Do thou the godlike virtues hear Which Rama to our hearts endear. So richly blest with graces, none In all the earth excels thy son: Nay, who to match with him may claim In truth, in justice, and in fame? True to his promise, gentle, kind, Unenvious, of grateful mind, Versed in the law and firm of soul, He keeps each sense with strict control. With duteous care he loves to sit By Brahmans skilled in Holy Writ. Hence brightest glory, ne'er to end, And matchless fame his youth attend. Skilled in the use of spear and shield, And arms which heavenly warriors wield, Supreme in war, unconquered yet By man, fiend, God in battle met, Whene'er in pomp of war he goes 'Gainst town or city of the foes, He ever comes with Lakshman back Victorious from the fierce attack.

"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."

When Sagar thus had bowed to fate, The lords and commons of the state Approved with ready heart and will Prince Ansuman his throne to fill. He ruled, a mighty king, unblamed, Sire of Dilipa justly famed. To him, his child and worthy heir, The king resigned his kingdom's care, And on Himalaya's pleasant side His task austere of penance plied. Bright as a God in clear renown He planned to bring pure Ganga down. There on his fruitless hope intent Twice sixteen thousand years he spent, And in the grove of hermits stayed Till bliss in heaven his rites repaid. Dilipa then, the good and great, Soon as he learnt his kinsmen's fate, Bowed down by woe, with troubled mind, Pondering long no cure could find. "How can I bring," the mourner sighed, "To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide? How can I give them rest, and save Their spirits with the offered wave?" Long with this thought his bosom skilled In holy discipline was filled. A son was born, Bhagirath named, Above all men for virtue famed. Dilipa many a rite ordained, And thirty thousand seasons reigned. But when no hope the king could see His kinsmen from their woe to free, The lord of men, by sickness tried, Obeyed the law of fate, and died; He left the kingdom to his son, And gained the heaven his deeds had won. The good Bhagirath, royal sage, Had no fair son to cheer his age. He, great in glory, pure in will, Longing for sons was childless still. Then on one wish, one thought intent, Planning the heavenly stream's descent, Leaving his ministers the care And burden of his state to bear, Dwelling in far Gokarna(194) he Engaged in long austerity. With senses checked, with arms upraised, Five fires(195) around and o'er him blazed. Each weary month the hermit passed Breaking but once his awful fast. In winter's chill the brook his bed, In rain, the clouds to screen his head. Thousands of years he thus endured Till Brahma's favour was assured, And the high Lord of living things Looked kindly on his sufferings.

He heard, and thus his answer made: "O, be not troubled, nor afraid, But trust, and thou shalt know ere long My love has done thee, sweet, no wrong, So strong and brave and wise shall be The glorious child I give to thee. Might shall be his that naught can tire, And limbs to spring as springs his sire." Thus spoke the God; the conquered dame Rejoiced in heart nor feared the shame. Down in a cave beneath the earth The happy mother gave thee birth. Once o'er the summit of the wood Before thine eyes the new sun stood. Thou sprangest up in haste to seize What seemed the fruitage of the trees. Up leapt the child, a wondrous bound, Three hundred leagues above the ground, And, though the angered Day-God shot His fierce beams on him, feared him not. Then from the hand of Indra came A red bolt winged with wrath and flame. The child fell smitten on a rock, His cheek was shattered by the shock, Named Hanuman(783) thenceforth by all In memory of the fearful fall. The wandering Wind-God saw thee lie With bleeding cheek and drooping eye, And stirred to anger by thy woe Forbade each scented breeze to blow. The breath of all the worlds was stilled, And the sad Gods with terror filled Prayed to the Wind, to calm the ire And soothe the sorrow of the sire. His fiery wrath no longer glowed, And Brahma's self the boon bestowed That in the brunt of battle none Should slay with steel the Wind-God's son. Lord Indra, sovereign of the skies, Bent on thee all his thousand eyes, And swore that ne'er the bolt which he Hurls from the heaven should injure thee. 'Tis thine, O mighty chief, to share The Wind-God's power, his son and heir. Sprung from that glorious father thou, And thou alone, canst aid us now. This earth of yore, through all her climes, I circled one-and-twenty times, And gathered, as the Gods decreed, Great store of herbs from hill and mead, Which, scattered o'er the troubled wave, The Amrit to the toilers gave.

The envoy answered: "Prince, thy sire Has sent thy presence to require. My sender known, 'tis thine to say If thou wilt go or answer nay." Then Rama, when he heard his speech, Made haste the royal court to reach. Soon as the monarch was aware His dearest son was waiting there, Eager the parley to begin He bade them lead the prince within, Soon as he passed the chamber door The hero bent him to the floor, And at a distance from his seat Raised his joined hands his sire to greet. The monarch raised him from the ground, And loving arms about him wound, Then pointed to a seat that shone With gold for him to rest upon. "Aged am I," he said, "and worn; In life's best joys my share have borne; Rites to the Gods, in hundreds, paid, With gifts of corn and largess made. I yearned for sons: my life is blest With them and thee of sons the best. No debt to saints or Brahmans, no, Nor spirits, Gods, or self I owe. One duty now remains alone, To set thee on thy father's throne. Now therefore, Rama, hear my rede, And mark my words with duteous heed: This day the peoples' general voice, Elects thee king of love and choice, And I, consenting to the prayer, Will make thee, darling, Regent Heir. Dread visions, each returning night, With evil omens scare my sight. Red meteors with a fearful sound Shoot wildly downward to the ground, While tempests lash the troubled air; And they who read the stars declare That, leagued against my natal sign, Rahu,(265) the Sun,(266) and Mars combine. When portents dire as these appear, A monarch's death or woe is near. Then while my senses yet are spared, And thought and will are unimpaired, Be thou, my son, anointed king: Men's fancy is a fickle thing. To-day the moon, in order due, Entered the sign Punarvasu,(267) To-morrow, as the wise foretell, In Pushya's favouring stars will dwell: Then on the throne shalt thou be placed. My soul, prophetic, counsels haste: Thee, O my son, to-morrow I As Regent Heir will sanctify.

As Rama, pierced by sorrow's sting, Lamented like a helpless thing, And by his mighty woe distraught Was lost in maze of troubled thought, Sumitra's son with loving care Consoled him in his wild despair, And while his feet he gently pressed With words like these the chief addressed: "For sternest vow and noblest deed Was Dasaratha blessed with seed. Thee for his son the king obtained, Like Amrit by the Gods regained. Thy gentle graces won his heart, And all too weak to live apart The monarch died, as Bharat told, And lives on high mid Gods enrolled. If thou, O Rama, wilt not bear This grief which fills thee with despair, How shall a weaker man e'er hope, Infirm and mean, with woe to cope? Take heart, I pray thee, noblest chief: What man who breathes is free from grief? Misfortunes come and burn like flame, Then fly as quickly as they came. Yayati son of Nahush reigned With Indra on the throne he gained. But falling for a light offence He mourned a while the consequence. Vasishtha, reverend saint and sage, Priest of our sire from youth to age, Begot a hundred sons, but they Were smitten in a single day.(511) And she, the queen whom all revere, The mother whom we hold so dear, The earth herself not seldom feels Fierce fever when she shakes and reels. And those twin lights, the world's great eyes, On which the universe relies,-- Does not eclipse at times assail Their brilliance till their fires grow pale? The mighty Powers, the Immortal Blest Bend to a law which none contest. No God, no bodied life is free From conquering Fate's supreme decree. E'en Sakra's self must reap the meed Of virtue and of sinful deed. And O great lord of men, wilt thou Helpless beneath thy misery bow? No, if thy dame be lost or dead, O hero, still be comforted, Nor yield for ever to thy woe O'ermastered like the mean and low. Thy peers, with keen far-reaching eyes, Spend not their hours in ceaseless sighs; In dire distress, in whelming ill Their manly looks are hopeful still.

The Brahmans on the prince's head King-making drops shall quickly shed, And Sita, Earth, and Fortune share The glories which await the heir. For him, when forth his chariot swept, The crowd that thronged Ayodhya wept, With agonizing woe distressed. With him in hermit's mantle dressed In guise of Sita Lakshmi went, And none his glory may prevent. Yea, naught to him is high or hard, Before whose steps, to be his guard, Lakshman, the best who draws the bow, With spear, shaft, sword rejoiced to go. His wanderings in the forest o'er, Thine eyes shall see thy son once more, Quit thy faint heart, thy grief dispel, For this, O Queen, is truth I tell. Thy son returning, moonlike, thence, Shall at thy feet do reverence, And, blest and blameless lady, thou Shalt see his head to touch them bow, Yea, thou shalt see thy son made king When he returns with triumphing, And how thy happy eyes will brim With tears of joy to look on him! Thou, blameless lady, shouldst the whole Of the sad people here console: Why in thy tender heart allow This bitter grief to harbour now? As the long banks of cloud distil Their water when they see the hill, So shall the drops of rapture run From thy glad eyes to see thy son Returning, as he lowly bends To greet thee, girt by all his friends."

He saw her weep whose offspring feed In thousands over hill and mead, And knew that in a mother's eye Naught with a son, for love, can vie. He deemed her, when the tears that came From her sad eyes bedewed his frame, Laden with their celestial scent, Of living things most excellent. If she these tears of sorrow shed Who many a thousand children bred, Think what a life of woe is left Kausalya, of her Rama reft. An only son was hers and she Is rendered childless now by thee. Here and hereafter, for thy crime, Woe is thy lot through endless time. And now, O Queen, without delay, With all due honour will I pay Both to my brother and my sire The rites their several fates require. Back to Ayodhya will I bring The long-armed chief, her lord and king, And to the wood myself betake Where hermit saints their dwelling make. For, sinner both in deed and thought! This hideous crime which thou hast wrought I cannot bear, or live to see The people's sad eyes bent on me. Begone, to Dandak wood retire, Or cast thy body to the fire, Or bind around thy neck the rope: No other refuge mayst thou hope. When Rama, lord of valour true, Has gained the earth, his right and due, Then, free from duty's binding debt, My vanished sin shall I forget."

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

His sweetly-speaking bride, who best Deserved her lord, he thus addressed. Then tender love bade passion wake, And thus the fair Videhan spake: "What words are these that thou hast said? Contempt of me the thought has bred. O best of heroes, I dismiss With bitter scorn a speech like this: Unworthy of a warrior's fame It taints a monarch's son with shame, Ne'er to be heard from those who know The science of the sword and bow. My lord, the mother, sire, and son Receive their lots by merit won; The brother and the daughter find The portions to their deeds assigned. The wife alone, whate'er await, Must share on earth her husband's fate. So now the king's command which sends Thee to the wild, to me extends. The wife can find no refuge, none, In father, mother, self, or son: Both here, and when they vanish hence, Her husband is her sole defence. If, Raghu's son, thy steps are led Where Dandak's pathless wilds are spread, My foot before thine own shall pass Through tangled thorn and matted grass. Dismiss thine anger and thy doubt: Like refuse water cast them out, And lead me, O my hero, hence-- I know not sin--with confidence. Whate'er his lot, 'tis far more sweet To follow still a husband's feet Than in rich palaces to lie, Or roam at pleasure through the sky. My mother and my sire have taught What duty bids, and trained each thought, Nor have I now mine ear to turn The duties of a wife to learn. I'll seek with thee the woodland dell And pathless wild where no men dwell, Where tribes of silvan creatures roam, And many a tiger makes his home. My life shall pass as pleasant there As in my father's palace fair. The worlds shall wake no care in me; My only care be truth to thee. There while thy wish I still obey, True to my vows with thee I'll stray, And there shall blissful hours be spent In woods with honey redolent. In forest shades thy mighty arm Would keep a stranger's life from harm, And how shall Sita think of fear When thou, O glorious lord, art near?

He spends his time unvext by cares, And robes of precious texture wears: How shall he, with one garment round His limbs recline upon the ground? Whose was this plan, this cruel thought Unheard till now, with ruin fraught, To make thy son Ayodhya's king, And send my Rama wandering? Shame, shame on women! Vile, untrue, Their selfish ends they still pursue. Not all of womankind I mean. But more than all this wicked queen. O worthless, cruel, selfish dame, I brought thee home, my plague and woe. What fault in me hast thou to blame, Or in my son who loves thee so? Fond wives may from their husbands flee, And fathers may their sons desert, But all the world would rave to see My Rama touched with deadly hurt. I joy his very step to hear, As though his godlike form I viewed; And when I see my Rama near I feel my youth again renewed. There might be life without the sun, Yea, e'en if Indra sent no rain, But, were my Rama banished, none Would, so I think, alive remain. A foe that longs my life to take, I brought thee here my death to be, Caressed thee long, a venomed snake, And through my folly die. Ah me! Rama and me and Lakshman slay, And then with Bharat rule the state; So bring the kingdom to decay, And fawn on those thy lord who hate, Plotter of woe, for evil bred, For such a speech why do not all Thy teeth from out thy wicked head Split in a thousand pieces fall? My Rama's words are ever kind, He knows not how to speak in ire: Then how canst thou presume to find A fault in him whom all admire? Yield to despair, go mad, or die, Or sink within the rifted earth; Thy fell request will I deny, Thou shamer of thy royal birth. Thy longer life I scarce can bear, Thou ruin of my home and race, Who wouldst my heart and heartstrings tear, Keen as a razor, false and base. My life is gone, why speak of joy? For what, without my son, were sweet? Spare, lady, him thou canst destroy; I pray thee as I touch thy feet."

The queen Ghritachi, nymph most fair, Married to Kusanabha, bare A hundred daughters, lovely-faced, With every charm and beauty graced. It chanced the maidens, bright and gay As lightning-flashes on a day Of rain time, to the garden went With song and play and merriment, And there in gay attire they strayed, And danced, and laughed, and sang, and played. The God of Wind who roves at will All places, as he lists, to fill, Saw the young maidens dancing there, Of faultless shape and mien most fair. "I love you all, sweet girls," he cried, "And each shall be my darling bride. Forsake, forsake your mortal lot, And gain a life that withers not. A fickle thing is youth's brief span, And more than all in mortal man. Receive unending youth, and be Immortal, O my loves, with me."

But Indrajit, when Bali's son(953) The victory o'er the foe had won, Saw with a fury-kindled eye His mangled steeds and driver die; Then, lost in air, he fled the fight, And vanished from the victor's sight. The Gods and saints glad voices raised, And Angad for his virtue praised; And Raghu's sons bestowed the meed Of honour due to valorous deed.

King Sagar in his crowded court Gave ear unto the priests' report. He summoned straightway to his side His sixty thousand sons, and cried: "Brave sons of mine, I knew not how These demons are so mighty now: The priests began the rite so well All sanctified with prayer and spell. If in the depths of earth he hide, Or lurk beneath the ocean's tide, Pursue, dear sons, the robber's track; Slay him and bring the charger back. The whole of this broad earth explore, Sea-garlanded, from shore to shore: Yea, dig her up with might and main Until you see the horse again. Deep let your searching labour reach, A league in depth dug out by each. The robber of our horse pursue, And please your sire who orders you. My grandson, I, this priestly train, Till the steed comes, will here remain."

Wise Visvamitra's tale was done: Then sainted Gautam's eldest son, Great Satananda, far-renowned, Whom long austerities had crowned With glory--as the news he heard The down upon his body stirred,-- Filled full of wonder at the sight Of Rama, felt supreme delight. When Satananda saw the pair Of youthful princes seated there, He turned him to the holy man Who sate at ease, and thus began: "And didst thou, mighty Sage, in truth Show clearly to this royal youth My mother, glorious far and wide, Whom penance-rites have sanctified? And did my glorious mother--she, Heiress of noble destiny-- Serve her great guest with woodland store, Whom all should honour evermore? Didst thou the tale to Rama tell Of what in ancient days befell, The sin, the misery, and the shame Of guilty God and faithless dame? And, O thou best of hermits, say, Did Rama's healing presence stay Her trial? was the wife restored Again to him, my sire and lord? Say, Hermit, did that sire of mine Receive her with a soul benign, When long austerities in time Had cleansed her from the taint of crime? And, son of Kusik, let me know, Did my great-minded father show Honour to Rama, and regard, Before he journeyed hitherward?" The hermit with attentive ear Marked all the questions of the seer: To him for eloquence far-famed, His eloquent reply he framed: "Yea, 'twas my care no task to shun, And all I had to do was done; As Renuka and Bhrigu's child, The saint and dame were reconciled."

Their tender love the people drew To follow Rama brave and true, The high-souled hero, as he went Forth from his home to banishment. The king himself his friends obeyed, And turned him homeward as they prayed. But yet the people turned not back, Still close on Rama's chariot track. For they who in Ayodhya dwelt For him such fond affection felt, Decked with all grace and glories high, The dear full moon of every eye. Though much his people prayed and wept, Kakutstha's son his purpose kept, And still his journey would pursue To keep the king his father true. Deep in the hero's bosom sank Their love, whose signs his glad eye drank. He spoke to cheer them, as his own Dear children, in a loving tone: "If ye would grant my fond desire, Give Bharat now that love entire And reverence shown to me by all Who dwell within Ayodhya's wall. For he, Kaikeyi's darling son, His virtuous career will run, And ever bound by duty's chain Consult your weal and bliss and gain. In judgment old, in years a child, With hero virtues meek and mild, A fitting lord is he to cheer His people and remove their fear. In him all kingly gifts abound, More noble than in me are found: Imperial prince, well proved and tried-- Obey him as your lord and guide. And grant, I pray, the boon I ask: To please the king be still your task, That his fond heart, while I remain Far in the wood, may feel no pain."

Thus high-souled Bharat, mid the crowd, Lifted his voice and cried aloud. Kausalya heard, she raised her head, And quickly to Sumitra said: "Bharat, Kaikeyi's son is here,-- Hers whose fell deeds I loathe and fear: That youth of foresight keen I fain Would meet and see his face again." Thus to Sumitra spake the dame, And straight to Bharat's presence came With altered mien, neglected dress, Trembling and faint with sore distress. Bharat, Satrughna by his side, To meet her, toward her palace hied. And when the royal dame they viewed Distressed with dire solicitude, Sad, fallen senseless on the ground, About her neck their arms they wound. The noble matron prostrate there, Embraced, with tears, the weeping pair, And with her load of grief oppressed, To Bharat then these words addressed: "Now all is thine, without a foe, This realm for which thou longest so. Ah, soon Kaikeyi's ruthless hand Has won the empire of the land, And made my guiltless Rama flee Dressed like some lonely devotee. Herein what profit has the queen, Whose eye delights in havoc, seen? Me also, me 'twere surely good To banish to the distant wood, To dwell amid the shades that hold My famous son with limbs like gold. Nay, with the sacred fire to guide, Will I, Sumitra by my side, Myself to the drear wood repair And seek the son of Raghu there. This land which rice and golden corn And wealth of every kind adorn, Car, elephant, and steed, and gem,-- She makes thee lord of it and them."

She ceased: with admiration moved The Vanar chief her words approved: "Thy speech," he cried, "is worthy one Whom love has linked to Raghu's son. Now speak, O Queen, that I may know Thy pleasure, for to him I go." The Vanar ceased: then Janak's child Made answer as she sweetly smiled: "'My first, my only wish can be, O chief, my loving lord to see." Again the Vanar envoy spoke, And with his words new rapture woke: "Queen, ere this sun shall cease to shine Thy Rama's eyes shall look in thine. Again the lord of Raghu's race Shall turn to thee his moon-bright face. His faithful brother shall thou see And every friend who fought for thee, And greet once more thy king restored Like Sachi(1014) to her heavenly lord." To Raghu's son his steps he bent And told the message that she sent.

When thus the sage without a peer Had closed that story strange to hear, Rama again the saint addressed To set one lingering doubt at rest: "O holy man, 'tis said by all That spirits' strength is weak and small: How can she match, of power so slight, A thousand elephants in might?" And Visvamitra thus replied To Raghu's son the glorified: "Listen, and I will tell thee how She gained the strength that arms her now. A mighty spirit lived of yore; Suketu was the name he bore. Childless was he, and free from crime In rites austere he passed his time. The mighty Sire was pleased to show His favour, and a child bestow. Tadaka named, most fair to see, A pearl among the maids was she, And matched, for such was Brahma's dower, A thousand elephants in power. Nor would the Eternal Sire, although The spirit longed, a son bestow That maid in beauty's youthful pride Was given to Sunda for a bride. Her son, Maricha was his name, A giant, through a curse, became. She, widowed, dared with him molest Agastya,(163) of all saints the best. Inflamed with hunger's wildest rage, Roaring she rushed upon the sage. When the great hermit saw her near, On speeding in her fierce career, He thus pronounced Maricha's doom: "A giant's form and shape assume." And then, by mighty anger swayed, On Tadaka this curse he laid: "Thy present form and semblance quit, And wear a shape thy mood to fit; Changed form and feature by my ban, A fearful thing that feeds on man."

He spoke: the conquering Lakshman heard, Obedient to his brother's word. Raised by his toil a cottage stood To shelter Rama in the wood, Of ample size, with leaves o'erlaid, Of hardened earth the walls were made. The strong bamboos his hands had felled For pillars fair the roof upheld, And rafter, beam, and lath supplied Well interwrought from side to side. Then Sami(451) boughs he deftly spread Enlaced with knotted cord o'erhead, Well thatched above from ridge to eaves With holy grass, and reed, and leaves. The mighty chief with careful toil Had cleared the ground and smoothed the soil Where now, his loving labour done, Rose a fair home for Raghu's son. Then when his work was duly wrought, Godavaris sweet stream he sought, Bathed, plucked the lilies, and a store Of fruit and berries homeward bore. Then sacrifice he duly paid, And wooed the Gods their hopes to aid, And then to Rama proudly showed The cot prepared for his abode. Then Raghu's son with Sita gazed Upon the home his hands had raised, And transport thrilled his bosom through His leafy hermitage to view. The glorious son of Raghu round His brother's neck his arms enwound, And thus began his sweet address Of deep-felt joy and gentleness: "Well pleased am I, dear lord, to see This noble work performed by thee. For this,--sole grace I can bestow,-- About thy neck mine arms I throw. So wise art thou, thy breast is filled With grateful thoughts, in duty skilled, Our mighty father, free from stain, In thee, his offspring, lives again."

Rama and Lakshman thither sped, By sainted Visvamitra led, And bent in filial love to greet Their father, and embraced his feet. The aged king, rejoiced to hear And see again his children dear, Honoured by Janak's thoughtful care, With great enjoyment rested there. King Janak, with attentive heed, Consulted first his daughters' need, And ordered all to speed the rite; Then rested also for the night.

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.

They sought the king, a mournful train, And cried, "My lord, thy son is slain. By Lakshman's hand, before these eyes, The warrior fell no more to rise. No time is this for vain regret: Thy hero son a hero met; And he whose might in battle pressed Lord Indra and the Gods confessed, Whose power was stranger to defeat, Has gained in heaven a blissful seat."

Meanwhile Vibhishan with the four Stood high above the ocean shore. Sugriva and the chiefs he spied, And raised his mighty voice and cried: "From Ravan, lord of giants, I His brother, named Vibhishan, fly. From Janasthan he stole the child Of Janak by his art beguiled, And in his palace locked and barred Surrounds her with a Rakshas guard. I bade him, plied with varied lore, His hapless prisoner restore. But he, by Fate to ruin sent, No credence to my counsel lent, Mad as the fevered wretch who sees And scorns the balm to bring him ease. He scorned the sage advice I gave, He spurned me like a base-born slave. I left my children and my wife, And fly to Raghu's son for life. I pray thee, Vanar chieftain, speed To him who saves in hour of need, And tell him famed in distant lands That suppliant here Vibhishan stands."

The king his grandsire kissed his head, And in reply to Bharat said: "Go forth, dear child: how blest is she, The mother of a son like thee! Greet well thy sire, thy mother greet, O thou whose arms the foe defeat; The household priest, and all the rest Amid the Twice-born chief and best; And Rama and brave Lakshman, who Shoot the long shaft with aim so true."

When royal Janak's words were done, Joined with Vasishtha Kusik's son, The mighty sage began his speech: "No mind may soar, no thought can reach The glories of Ikshvaku's line, Or, great Videha's King, of thine: None in the whole wide world may vie With them in fame and honours high. Well matched, I ween, in holy bands, These peerless pairs will join their hands. But hear me as I speak once more; Thy brother, skilled in duty's lore, Has at his home a royal pair Of daughters most divinely fair. I for the hands of these sweet two For Bharat and Satrughna sue, Both princes of heroic mould, Wise, fair of form, and lofty-souled. All Dasaratha's sons, I ween, Own each young grace of form and mien: Brave as the Gods are they, nor yield To the great Lords the worlds who shield. By these, good Prince of merits high, Ikshvaku's house with thine ally."

Then thus the king addressed the sage: "No power have I, my lord, to wage War with this evil-minded foe; Now pity on my darling show, And upon me of hapless fate, For thee as God I venerate. Gods, spirits, bards of heavenly birth,(145) The birds of air, the snakes of earth Before the might of Ravan quail, Much less can mortal man avail. He draws, I hear, from out the breast The valour of the mightiest. No, ne'er can I with him contend, Or with the forces he may send. How can I then my darling lend, Godlike, unskilled in battle? No, I will not let my young child go. Foes of thy rite, those mighty ones, Sunda and Upasunda's sons, Are fierce as Fate to overthrow: I will not let my young child go. Maricha and Suvahu fell Are valiant and instructed well. One of the twain I might attack. With all my friends their lord to back."

So with ascetic might, in ire, He smote the children and the sire. Then Visvamitra, far-renowned, Addressed the saints who gathered round: "See by my side Trisanku stand, Ikshvaku's son, of liberal hand. Most virtuous and gentle, he Seeks refuge in his woe with me. Now, holy men, with me unite, And order so his purposed rite That in the body he may rise And win a mansion in the skies."

This said, the son of Raghu pressed His foot upon the giant's breast. With joy the prostrate monster heard Victorious Rama's welcome word, And straight Kakutstha's son, the best Of men, in words like these addressed: "I yield, O chieftain, overthrown By might that vies with Indra's own. Till now my folly-blinded eyes Thee, hero, failed to recognize. Happy Kausalya! blest to be The mother of a son like thee! I know thee well, O chieftain, now: Rama, the prince of men, art thou. There stands the high-born Maithil dame, There Lakshman, lord of mighty fame. My name was Tumburu,(408) for song Renowned among the minstrel throng: Cursed by Kuvera's stern decree I wear the hideous shape you see. But when I sued, his grace to crave, The glorious God this answer gave: "When Rama, Dasaratha's son, Destroys thee and the fight is won, Thy proper shape once more assume, And heaven again shall give thee room." When thus the angry God replied, No prayers could turn his wrath aside, And thus on me his fury fell For loving Rambha's(409) charms too well. Now through thy favour am I freed From the stern fate the God decreed, And saved, O tamer of the foe, By thee, to heaven again shall go. A league, O Prince, beyond this spot Stands holy Sarabhanga's cot: The very sun is not more bright Than that most glorious anchorite: To him, O Rama, quickly turn, And blessings from the hermit earn. First under earth my body throw, Then on thy way rejoicing go. Such is the law ordained of old For giants when their days are told: Their bodies laid in earth, they rise To homes eternal in the skies."

Thus Lakshman cried, the mighty-souled: Down her sad cheeks the torrents rolled, As to her son Kausalya spake:

The father, with his consort's aid, The funeral rites with water paid, And thus his speech to me renewed Who stood in suppliant attitude: "Slay me this day, O, slay me, King, For death no longer has a sting. Childless am I: thy dart has done To death my dear, my only son. Because the boy I loved so well Slain by thy heedless arrow fell, My curse upon thy soul shall press With bitter woe and heaviness. I mourn a slaughtered child, and thou Shalt feel the pangs that kill me now. Bereft and suffering e'en as I, So shalt thou mourn thy son, and die. Thy hand unwitting dealt the blow That laid a holy hermit low, And distant, therefore, is the time When thou shalt suffer for the crime. The hour shall come when, crushed by woes Like these I feel, thy life shall close: A debt to pay in after days Like his the priestly fee who pays."

The damsel's breast with fury burned: She answered, as the gift she spurned: "What time, O simple Queen, is this For idle dreams of fancied bliss? Hast thou not sense thy state to know, Engulfed in seas of whelming woe; Sick as I am with grief and pain My lips can scarce a laugh restrain To see thee hail with ill-timed joy A peril mighty to destroy. I mourn for one so fondly blind: What woman of a prudent mind Would welcome, e'en as thou hast done, The lordship of a rival's son, Rejoiced to find her secret foe Empowered, like death, to launch the blow; I see that Rama still must fear Thy Bharat, to his throne too near. Hence is my heart disquieted, For those who fear are those we dread. Lakshman, the mighty bow who draws, With all his soul serves Rama's cause; And chains as strong to Bharat bind Satrughna, with his heart and mind, Now next to Rama, lady fair, Thy Bharat is the lawful heir: And far remote, I ween, the chance That might the younger two advance. Yes, Queen, 'tis Rama that I dread, Wise, prompt, in warlike science bred; And oh, I tremble when I think Of thy dear child on ruin's brink. Blest with a lofty fate is she, Kausalya; for her son will be Placed, when the moon and Pushya meet, By Brahmans on the royal seat, Thou as a slave in suppliant guise Must wait upon Kausalya's eyes, With all her wealth and bliss secured And glorious from her foes assured. Her slave with us who serve thee, thou Wilt see thy son to Rama bow, And Sita's friends exult o'er all, While Bharat's wife shares Bharat's fall."

"Dismiss the hope of conquering one So stern and strong as Raghu's son. In due control each sense he keeps With constant care that never sleeps. Whose daring heart has e'er conceived The exploit Hanuman achieved, Across the fearful sea to spring, The tributary rivers' king? O Rakshas lords, in time be wise, Nor Rama's matchless power despise. And say, what evil had the son Of Raghu to our monarch done, Who stole the dame he loved so well And keeps her in his citadel; If Khara in his foolish pride Encountered Rama, fought, and died, May not the meanest love his life And guard it in the deadly strife? The Maithil dame, O Rakshas King, Sore peril to thy realm will bring. Restore her while there yet is time, Nor let us perish for thy crime. O, let the Maithil lady go Ere the avenger bend his bow To ruin with his arrowy showers Our Lanka with her gates and towers. Let Janak's child again be free Ere the wild Vanars cross the sea, In their resistless might assail Our city and her ramparts scale. Ah, I conjure thee by the ties Of brotherhood, be just and wise. In all my thoughts thy good I seek, And thus my prudent counsel speak. Let captive Sita be restored Ere, fierce as autumn's sun, her lord Send his keen arrows from the string To drink the life-blood of our king. This fury from thy soul dismiss, The bane of duty, peace, and bliss. Seek duty's path and walk therein, And joy and endless glory win. Restore the captive, ere we feel The piercing point of Rama's steel. O spare thy city, spare the lives Of us, our friends, our sons and wives."

"Is there no way," Hanuman cried, "No passage o'er the boisterous tide? How may we lead the Vanar host In triumph to the farther coast?" "Thus," said Vibhishan, "I advise: Let Raghu's son in suppliant guise Entreat the mighty Sea to lend His succour and this cause befriend. His channels, as the wise have told, By Sagar's sons were dug of old,(932) Nor will high-thoughted Ocean scorn A prince of Sagar's lineage born."

With ripened judgment of a sage, And godlike in his blooming age, When shall my virtuous son appear, Like kindly rain, our hearts to cheer? Ah, in a former life, I ween, This hand of mine, most base and mean, Has dried the udders of the kine And left the thirsty calves to pine. Hence, as the lion robs the cow, Kaikeyi makes me childless now, Exulting from her feebler foe To rend the son she cherished so. I had but him, in Scripture skilled, With every grace his soul was filled. Now not a joy has life to give, And robbed of him I would not live: Yea, all my days are dark and drear If he, my darling, be not near, And Lakshman brave, my heart to cheer. As for my son I mourn and yearn, The quenchless flames of anguish burn And kill me with the pain, As in the summer's noontide blaze The glorious Day-God with his rays Consumes the parching plain."

With him, his best and eldest son, By all his princely virtues won King Dasaratha(24) willed to share His kingdom as the Regent Heir. But when Kaikeyi, youngest queen, With eyes of envious hate had seen The solemn pomp and regal state Prepared the prince to consecrate, She bade the hapless king bestow Two gifts he promised long ago, That Rama to the woods should flee, And that her child the heir should be.

Then red with rage his eyeballs blazed: The sacred ladle high he raised, And cried to King Ikshvaku's son: "Behold my power, by penance won: Now by the might my merits lend, Ikshvaku's child, to heaven ascend. In living frame the skies attain, Which mortals thus can scarcely gain. My vows austere, so long endured, Have, as I ween, some fruit assured. Upon its virtue, King, rely, And in thy body reach the sky."

Great monarchs from their presence send Their lawful sons who still offend, And welcome to the vacant place Good children of an alien race. Then, best of women, rest thou here, And Bharat's will with love revere. Obedient to thy king remain, And still thy vows of truth maintain. To the wide wood my steps I bend: Make thou thy dwelling here; See that thy conduct ne'er offend, And keep my words, my dear."

Thus by his saintly guide addressed With pleas in sweetest tones expressed, The lord of men in turn replied To wise Vasishtha by his side: "The fondest son's observance ne'er Repays the sire and mother's care: The constant love that food provides, And dress, and every need besides: Their pleasant words still soft and mild, Their nurture of the helpless child: The words which Dasaratha spake, My king and sire, I ne'er will break."

The best of Brahmans answer made: "Be not, great lord of kings, afraid. Thy virtues have not failed to win My favour, O thou pure of sin." Then in the front the saint was placed, The king came next in joyous haste, And with him entered his abode, Mid glad acclaim as on they rode. To greet the sage the reverent crowd Raised suppliant hands and humbly bowed. Then from the palace many a dame Following well-dressed Santa came, Stood by the mighty saint and cried: "See, honour's source, thy son's dear bride." The saint, who every virtue knew, His arms around his daughter threw, And with a father's rapture pressed The lady to his wondering breast. Arising from the saint's embrace She bowed her low before his face, And then, with palm to palm applied, Stood by her hermit father's side. He for his son, as laws ordain, Performed the rite that frees from stain,(129) And, honoured by the wise and good, With him departed to the wood.

Thus having said, the sage addressed His sons, of men the holiest, And bade the prudent saints whate'er Was needed for the rite prepare. The pupils he was wont to teach He summoned next, and spoke this speech: "Go bid Vasishtha'a sons appear, And all the saints be gathered here. And what they one and all reply When summoned by this mandate high, To me with faithful care report, Omit no word and none distort."

The mighty lord drew near, assayed To win his grace, and reverence paid; And then the sainted king addressed The Brahman saint with this request: "Bought with a hundred thousand kine, Give me, O Sage, a son of thine To be a victim in the rite, And thanks the favour shall requite. For I have roamed all countries round, Nor sacrificial victim found. Then, gentle Hermit, deign to spare One child amid the number there."

Then as the son of Raghu made His way to Panchavati's shade, A mighty vulture he beheld Of size and strength unparalleled. The princes, when the bird they saw, Approached with reverence and awe, And as his giant form they eyed, "Tell who thou art," in wonder cried. The bird, as though their hearts to gain, Addressed them thus in gentlest strain; "In me, dear sons, the friend behold Your royal father loved of old."

Thus Raghu's son, great-hearted, prayed, And Indra thus his answer made: "High is the boon thou seekest: none Should win this grace but Raghu's son. Yet, faithful to the word I spake, I grant the prayer for thy dear sake. The Vanars whom the giants slew Their life and vigour shall renew. Their strength repaired, their gashes healed Whose torrents dyed the battle field, The warrior hosts from death shall rise Like sleepers when their slumber flies."

The prince whose arm bright glory gained, O'er the whole earth as monarch reigned, And richest gifts to others gave, Is come Sugriva's help to crave; Son of a king the surest friend Of virtue, him who loved to lend His succour to the suffering weak, Is come Sugriva's aid to seek. Yes, Raghu's son whose matchless hand Protected all this sea-girt land, The virtuous prince, my holy guide, For refuge seeks Sugriva's side. His favour sent on great and small Should ever save and prosper all. He now to win Sugriva's grace Has sought his woodland dwelling-place. Son of a king of glorious fame;-- Who knows not Dasaratha's name?-- From whom all princes of the earth Received each honour due to worth;-- Heir of that best of earthly kings, Rama the prince whose glory rings Through realms below and earth and skies, For refuge to Sugriva flies. Nor should the Vanar king refuse The boon for which the suppliant sues, But with his forest legions speed To save him in his utmost need."

"Fear, Ravan, basest of the base: For of mine own imperial race A prince in after time shall spring And thee and thine to ruin bring. And Vedavati,(966) ere she died Slain by my ruthless insult, cried: "A scion of my royal line Shall slay, vile wretch, both thee and thine." She in a later birth became King Janak's child, now Rama's dame. Nandisvara(967) foretold this fate, And Uma(968) when I moved her hate, And Rambha,(969) and the lovely child Of Varun(970) by my touch defiled. I know the fated hour is nigh: Hence, captains, to your stations fly. Let warders on the rampart stand: Place at each gate a watchful band; And, terror of immortal eyes, Let mightiest Kumbhakarna rise. He, slumbering, free from care and pain, By Brahma's curse, for months has lain. But when Prahasta's death he hears, Mine own defeat and doubts and fears, The chief will rise to smite the foe And his unrivalled valour show. Then Raghu's royal sons and all The Vanars neath his might will fall."

Vibhandak took his homeward road, And wearied by the heavy load Of roots and woodland fruit he bore Entered at last his cottage door. Fain for his son he looked around, But desolate the cell he found. He stayed not then to bathe his feet, Though fainting with the toil and heat, But hurried forth and roamed about Calling the boy with cry and shout, He searched the wood, but all in vain; Nor tidings of his son could gain.

While thus the hapless monarch spoke, Paternal love his utterance broke. Then words like these the saint returned, And fury in his bosom burned: "Didst thou, O King, a promise make, And wishest now thy word to break? A son of Raghu's line should scorn To fail in faith, a man forsworn. But if thy soul can bear the shame I will return e'en as I came. Live with thy sons, and joy be thine, False scion of Kakutstha's line."

The aged saint came home, to find The hermit boy distraught, Revolving in his troubled mind One solitary thought. "Why dost thou not, my son," he cried, "Thy due obeisance pay? Why do I see thee in the tide Of whelming thought to-day? A devotee should never wear A mien so sad and strange. Come, quickly, dearest child, declare The reason of the change." And Rishyasring, when questioned thus, Made answer in this wise: "O sire, there came to visit us Some men with lovely eyes. About my neck soft arms they wound And kept me tightly held To tender breasts so soft and round, That strangely heaved and swelled. They sing more sweetly as they dance Than e'er I heard till now, And play with many a sidelong glance And arching of the brow." "My son," said he, "thus giants roam Where holy hermits are, And wander round their peaceful home Their rites austere to mar. I charge thee, thou must never lay Thy trust in them, dear boy: They seek thee only to betray, And woo but to destroy." Thus having warned him of his foes That night at home he spent. And when the morrow's sun arose Forth to the forest went. But Rishyasring with eager pace Sped forth and hurried to the place Where he those visitants had seen Of daintly waist and charming mien. When from afar they saw the son Of Saint Vibhandak toward them run, To meet the hermit boy they hied, And hailed him with a smile, and cried: "O come, we pray, dear lord, behold Our lovely home of which we told Due honour there to thee we'll pay, And speed thee on thy homeward way." Pleased with the gracious words they said He followed where the damsels led. As with his guides his steps he bent, That Brahman high of worth, A flood of rain from heaven was sent That gladdened all the earth.

That night of sorrow passed away, And rose again the God of Day. Then all the twice-born peers of state Together met for high debate. Javali, lord of mighty fame. And Gautam, and Katyayan came, And Markandeya's reverend age, And Vamadeva, glorious sage: Sprung from Mudgalya's seed the one, The other ancient Kasyap's son. With lesser lords these Brahmans each Spoke in his turn his several speech, And turning to Vasishtha, best Of household priests him thus addressed: "The night of bitter woe has past, Which seemed a hundred years to last, Our king, in sorrow for his son, Reunion with the Five has won. His soul is where the blessed are, While Rama roams in woods afar, And Lakshman, bright in glorious deeds, Goes where his well-loved brother leads. And Bharat and Satrughna, they Who smite their foes in battle fray, Far in the realm of Kekaya stay, Where their maternal grandsire's care Keeps Rajagriha's city fair. Let one of old Ikshvaku's race Obtain this day the sovereign's place, Or havoc and destruction straight Our kingless land will devastate. In kingless lands no thunder's voice, No lightning wreaths the heart rejoice, Nor does Parjanya's heavenly rain Descend upon the burning plain. Where none is king, the sower's hand Casts not the seed upon the land; The son against the father strives. And husbands fail to rule their wives. In kingless realms no princes call Their friends to meet in crowded hall; No joyful citizens resort To garden trim or sacred court. In kingless realms no Twice-born care To sacrifice with text and prayer, Nor Brahmans, who their vows maintain, The great solemnities ordain. The joys of happier days have ceased: No gathering, festival, or feast Together calls the merry throng Delighted with the play and song. In kingless lands it ne'er is well With sons of trade who buy and sell: No men who pleasant tales repeat Delight the crowd with stories sweet.

When Gadhi's son of high renown Still saw the stony rain pour down Upon each princely warrior's head, With words of wisdom thus he said: "Enough of mercy, Rama, lest This sinful evil-working pest, Disturber of each holy rite, Repair by magic arts her might. Without delay the fiend should die, For, see, the twilight hour is nigh. And at the joints of night and day Such giant foes are hard to slay." Then Rama, skilful to direct His arrow to the sound, With shafts the mighty demon checked Who rained her stones around. She sore impeded and beset By Rama and his arrowy net, Though skilled in guile and magic lore, Rushed on the brothers with a roar. Deformed, terrific, murderous, dread, Swift as the levin on she sped, Like cloudy pile in autumn's sky, Lifting her two vast arms on high, When Rama smote her with a dart, Shaped like a crescent, to the heart. Sore wounded by the shaft that came With lightning speed and surest aim, Blood spouting from her mouth and side, She fell upon the earth and died. Soon as the Lord who rules the sky Saw the dread monster lifeless lie, He called aloud, Well done! well done! And the Gods honoured Raghu's son. Standing in heaven the Thousand-eyed, With all the Immortals, joying cried: "Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and see The Gods and Indra nigh to thee. This deed of Rama's boundless might Has filled our bosoms with delight, Now, for our will would have it so, To Raghu's son some favour show. Invest him with the power which naught But penance gains and holy thought, Those heavenly arms on him bestow To thee entrusted long ago By great Krisasva best of kings, Son of the Lord of living things. More fit recipient none can be Than he who joys it following thee; And for our sakes the monarch's seed Has yet to do a mighty deed."

He spoke, and for his words so sweet Good Lakshman paid all honour meet; Then turned and cried to Raghu's son: "Now deem thy task already done, Because this chief of Vanar kind, Son of the God who rules the wind, Declares Sugriva's self would be Assisted in his need by thee. Bright gleams of joy his cheek o'erspread As each glad word of hope he said; And ne'er will one so valiant deign To cheer our hearts with hope in vain."

He ceased. The wondrous arrow flew, And Jamadagni's offspring knew Those glorious worlds to him were barred, Once gained by penance long and hard. Then straight the airy quarters cleared, And the mid regions bright appeared, While Gods and saints unnumbered praised Rama, the mighty bow who raised. And Jamadagni's son, o'erawed. Extolled his name with highest laud, With reverent steps around him strode, Then hastened on his airy road. Far from the sight of all he fled, And rested on Mahendra's head.

"By whom, Kaikeyi, wast thou taught This flattering hope with ruin fraught? Have goblins seized thy soul, O dame, Who thus canst speak and feel no shame? Thy mind with sin is sicklied o'er, From thy first youth ne'er seen before. A good and loving wife wast thou, But all, alas! is altered now. What terror can have seized thy breast To make thee frame this dire request, That Bharat o'er the land may reign, And Rama in the woods remain? Turn from thine evil ways, O turn, And thy perfidious counsel spurn, If thou would fain a favour do To people, lord, and Bharat too. O wicked traitress, fierce and vile, Who lovest deeds of sin and guile, What crime or grievance dost thou see, What fault in Rama or in me? Thy son will ne'er the throne accept If Rama from his rights be kept, For Bharat's heart more firmly yet Than Rama's is on justice set. How shall I say, Go forth, and brook Upon my Rama's face to look, See his pale cheek and ashy lips Dimmed like the moon in sad eclipse? How see the plan so well prepared When prudent friends my counsels shared, All ruined, like a host laid low Beneath some foeman's murderous blow. What will these gathered princes say, From regions near and far away? "O'erlong endures the monarch's reign, or now he is a child again." When many a good and holy sage In Scripture versed, revered for age, Shall ask for Rama, what shall I Unhappy, what shall I reply? "By Queen Kaikeyi long distressed I drove him forth and dispossessed." Although herein the truth I speak, They all will hold me false and weak. What will Kausalya say when she Demands her son exiled by me? Alas! what answer shall I frame, Or how console the injured dame? She like a slave on me attends, And with a sister's care she blends A mother's love, a wife's, a friend's.