Ramayana on Children

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

He ceased: and when his lips were closed Mahodar thus his rede opposed: "Why wilt thou shame thy noble birth And speak like one of little worth? Why boast thee thus in youthful pride Rejecting wisdom for thy guide? How will thy single arm oppose The victor of a thousand foes, Who proved in Janasthan his might And slew the rovers of the night? The remnant of those legions, they Who saw his power that fatal day, Now in this leaguered city dread The mighty chief from whom they fled. And wouldst thou meet the lord of men, Beard the great lion in his den, And, when thine eyes are open, break The slumber of a deadly snake? Who may an equal battle wage With him, so awful in his rage, Fierce as the God of Death whom none May vanquish, Dasaratha's son? But, Ravan, shall the lady still Refuse compliance with thy will? No, listen, King, to this design Which soon shall make the captive thine. This day through Lanka's streets proclaim That four of us(974) of highest fame With Kumbhakarna at our head Will strike the son of Raghu dead. Forth to the battle will we go And prove our prowess on the foe. Then, if our bold attempt succeed, No further plans thy hopes will need. But if in vain our warriors strive, And Raghu's son be left alive, We will return, and, wounded sore, Our armour stained with gouts of gore, Will show the shafts that rent each frame, Keen arrows marked with Rama's name, And say we giants have devoured The princes whom our might o'erpowered. Then let the joyful tidings spread That Raghu's royal sons are dead. To all around thy pleasure show, Gold, pearls, and precious robes, bestow. Gay garlands round the portals twine, Enjoy the banquet and the wine. Then go, the scornful lady seek, And woo her when her heart is weak. Rich robes and gold and gems display, And gently wile her grief away.

The nymph received with pleasant speech Her daughters; and, embracing each, Upon their forms she fondly gazed, And royal Kusanabha praised.

Ikshvaku's children still depend Upon their guide most reverend; And you, as nearest in degree To him, my deities shall be!"

The Dewy Season(85) came and went; The spring returned again: Then would the king, with mind intent, His sacrifice ordain. He came to Rishyasring, and bowed To him of look divine, And bade him aid his offering vowed For heirs, to save his line. Nor would the youth his aid deny: He spake the monarch fair, And prayed him for that rite so high All requisites prepare. The king to wise Sumantra cried Who stood aye ready near; "Go summon quick each holy guide, To counsel and to hear." Obedient to his lord's behest Away Sumantra sped, And brought Vasishtha and the rest, In Scripture deeply read. Suyajna, Vamadeva came, Javali, Kasyap's son, And old Vasishtha, dear to fame, Obedient every one. King Dasaratha met them there And duly honoured each, And spoke in pleasant words his fair And salutary speech: "In childless longing doomed to pine, No happiness, O lords, is mine. So have I for this cause decreed To slay the sacrificial steed. Fain would I pay that offering high Wherein the horse is doomed to die, With Rishyasring his aid to lend, And with your glory to befriend." With loud applause each holy man Received his speech, approved the plan, And, by the wise Vasishtha led, Gave praises to the king, and said: "The sons thou cravest shalt thou see, Of fairest glory, born to thee, Whose holy feelings bid thee take This righteous course for offspring's sake." Cheered by the ready praise of those Whose aid he sought, his spirits rose, And thus the king his speech renewed With looks of joy and gratitude: "Let what the coming rites require Be ready as the priests desire, And let the horse, ordained to bleed, With fitting guard and priest, be freed,(86) Yonder on Sarju's northern side The sacrificial ground provide; And let the saving rites, that naught Ill-omened may occur, be wrought. The offering I announce to-day Each lord of earth may claim to pay, Provided that his care can guard The holy rite by flaws unmarred.

The monarch heard the mournful tale: His heart was faint, his cheek was pale; His fleeting sense at length regained, In trembling tones he thus complained: "Ah me, my son, my pride: the boast And glory of the giant host. Could Lakshman's puny might defeat The foe whom Indra feared to meet? Could not thy deadly arrows split Proud Mandar's peaks, O Indrajit, And the Destroyer's self destroy? And wast thou conquered by a boy? I will not weep: thy noble deed Has blessed thee with immortal meed Gained by each hero in the skies Who fighting for his sovereign dies. Now, fearless of all meaner foes, The guardian Gods(993) will taste repose: But earth to me, with hill and plain, Is desolate, for thou art slain. Ah, whither hast thou fled, and left Thy mother, Lanka, me bereft; Left pride and state and wives behind, And lordship over all thy kind? I fondly hoped thy hand should pay Due honours on my dying day: And couldst thou, O beloved, flee And leave thy funeral rites to me? Life has no comfort left me, none, O Indrajit my son, my son."

Forth sprang Sumitra's noble child,(989) And strained his ready bow, and smiled; And giants trembled as the clang Through heaven and earth reechoing rang. The giant to his string applied A pointed shaft, and proudly cried; "Turn, turn, Sumitra's son and fly, For terrible as Death am I. Fly, nor that youthful form oppose, Untrained in war, to warriors' blows. What! wilt thou waste thy childish breath And wake the dormant fire of death? Cast down, rash boy, that useless bow: Preserve thy life, uninjured go."

Thus was the helpless monarch stung By Queen Kaikeyi's fearless tongue, As Bali strove in vain to loose His limbs from Indra's fatal noose. Dismayed in soul and pale with fear, The monarch, like a trembling steer Between the chariot's wheel and yoke, Again to Queen Kaikeyi spoke, With sad eyes fixt in vacant stare, Gathering courage from despair: "That hand I took, thou sinful dame, With texts, before the sacred flame, Thee and thy son, I scorn and hate, And all at once repudiate. The night is fled: the dawn is near: Soon will the holy priests be here To bid me for the rite prepare That with my son the throne will share, The preparation made to grace My Rama in his royal place-- With this, e'en this, my darling for My death the funeral flood shall pour. Thou and thy son at least forbear In offerings to my shade to share, For by the plot thy guile has laid His consecration will be stayed. This very day how shall I brook To meet each subject's altered look? To mark each gloomy joyless brow That was so bright and glad but now?"

There breathing still with slow faint sighs Lay Bali on the ground: his eyes, Damp with the tears of death, he raised, On conquering Sugriva gazed, And then in clearest speech expressed The tender feelings of his breast: "Not to my charge, Sugriva, lay Thine injuries avenged to-day; But rather blame resistless Fate That urged me on infuriate. Fate ne'er agreed our lives to bless With simultaneous happiness: To dwell like brothers side by side In tender love was still denied. The Vanars' realm is thine to-day: Begin, O King, thy rightful sway;(604) For I must go at Yama's call To sojourn in his gloomy hall; Must part and leave this very hour My life, my realm, my kingly power, And go instead of these to gain Bright glory free from spot and stain. Now at thy hands one boon I seek With the last words my lips shall speak, And, though it be no easy thing, Perform the task I give thee, King. This son of mine, no foolish boy, Worthy of bliss and nursed in joy,-- See, prostrate on the ground he lies, The hot tears welling from his eyes-- The child I love so well, more sweet Than life itself, for woe unmeet,-- To him be kindly favour shown: O guard and keep him as thine own. Retain him ever by thy side, His father, helper, friend, and guide. From fear and woe his young life save, And give him all his father gave. Then Tara's son in time shall be Brave, resolute, and famed like thee, And march before thee to the fight Where stricken fiends shall own his might. While yet a tender stripling, fame Shall bruit abroad his warrior name, And brightly shall his glory shine For exploits worthy of his line. Child of Sushen,(605) my Tara well Obscurest lore can read and tell; And, trained in wondrous art, divines Each mystery of boding signs. Her solemn warning ne'er despise, Do boldly what her lips advise; For things to come her eye can see, And with her words events agree.

And Kusik's son approved his speech, And moving to the sandy beach, Placed in the boat the hermit band, And reached the river's further strand. On the north bank their feet they set, And greeted all the saints they met. On Ganga's shore they lighted down, And saw Visala's lovely town. Thither, the princes by his side, The best of holy hermits hied. It was a town exceeding fair That might with heaven itself compare. Then, suppliant palm to palm applied, Famed Rama asked his holy guide: "O best of hermits, say what race Of monarchs rules this lovely place. Dear master, let my prayer prevail, For much I long to hear the tale." Moved by his words, the saintly man Visala's ancient tale began: "List, Rama, list, with closest heed The tale of Indra's wondrous deed, And mark me as I truly tell What here in ancient days befell. Ere Krita's famous Age(200) had fled, Strong were the sons of Diti(201) bred; And Aditi's brave children too Were very mighty, good, and true. The rival brothers fierce and bold Were sons of Kasyap lofty-souled. Of sister mothers born, they vied, Brood against brood, in jealous pride. Once, as they say, band met with band, And, joined in awful council, planned To live, unharmed by age and time, Immortal in their youthful prime. Then this was, after due debate, The counsel of the wise and great, To churn with might the milky sea(202) The life-bestowing drink to free. This planned, they seized the Serpent King, Vasuki, for their churning-string, And Mandar's mountain for their pole, And churned with all their heart and soul. As thus, a thousand seasons through, This way and that the snake they drew, Biting the rocks, each tortured head, A very deadly venom shed. Thence, bursting like a mighty flame, A pestilential poison came, Consuming, as it onward ran, The home of God, and fiend, and man. Then all the suppliant Gods in fear To Sankar,(203) mighty lord, drew near. To Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed, "Save us, O save us, Lord!" they prayed.

The envoys thus the king addressed, And mighty joy his heart possessed. To Vamadeva quick he cried, Vasishtha, and his lords beside: "Lakshman, and he, my princely boy Who fills Kausalya's soul with joy, By Visvamitra guarded well Among the good Videhans dwell. Their ruler Janak, prompt to own The peerless might my child has shown, To him would knit in holy ties His daughter, valour's lovely prize. If Janak's plan seem good to you, Come, speed we to his city too, Nor let occasion idly by."

The father lent a gracious ear And listened to their tale of fear, And kindly to the Gods replied Whom woe and death had terrified: "The wisest Vasudeva,(185) who The Immortals' foe, fierce Madhu, slew, Regards broad Earth with love and pride And guards, in Kapil's form, his bride.(186) His kindled wrath will quickly fall On the king's sons and burn them all. This cleaving of the earth his eye Foresaw in ages long gone by: He knew with prescient soul the fate That Sagar's children should await."

Far be the ape, the scorpion's sting, Fly, gnat, and worm, and creeping thing. Thee shall the hungry lion spare, The tiger, elephant, and bear: Safe, from their furious might repose, Safe from the horned buffaloes. Each savage thing the forests breed, That love on human flesh to feed, Shall for my child its rage abate, When thus its wrath I deprecate. Blest be thy ways: may sweet success The valour of my darling bless. To all that Fortune can bestow, Go forth, my child, my Rama, go. Go forth, O happy in the love Of all the Gods below, above; And in those guardian powers confide Thy paths who keep, thy steps who guide. May Sukra,(297) Yama, Sun, and Moon, And He who gives each golden boon,(298) Won by mine earnest prayers, be good To thee, my son, in Dandak wood. Fire, wind, and smoke, each text and spell From mouths of holy seers that fell, Guard Rama when his limbs he dips, Or with the stream makes pure his lips! May the great saints and He, the Lord Who made the worlds, by worlds adored, And every God in heaven beside My banished Rama keep and guide."

"Fie on thee, dame!" the monarch said; Each of her people bent his head, And stood in shame and sorrow mute: She marked not, bold and resolute. Then great Siddharth, inflamed with rage, The good old councillor and sage On whose wise rede the king relied, To Queen Kaikeyi thus replied: "But Asamanj the cruel laid His hands on infants as they played, Cast them to Sarju's flood, and smiled For pleasure when he drowned a child."(311) The people saw, and, furious, sped Straight the the king his sire and said: "Choose us, O glory of the throne, Choose us, or Asamanj alone." "Whence comes this dread?" the monarch cried; And all the people thus replied: "In folly, King, he loves to lay Fierce hands upon our babes at play, Casts them to Sarju's flood and joys To murder our bewildered boys." With heedful ear the king of men Heard each complaining citizen. To please their troubled minds he strove, And from the state his son he drove. With wife and gear upon a car He placed him quick, and sent him far. And thus he gave commandment, "He Shall all his days an exile be." With basket and with plough he strayed O'er mountain heights, through pathless shade, Roaming all lands a weary time, An outcast wretch defiled with crime. Sagar, the righteous path who held, His wicked offspring thus expelled. But what has Rama done to blame? Why should his sentence be the same? No sin his stainless name can dim; We see no fault at all in him. Pure as the moon, no darkening blot On his sweet life has left a spot. If thou canst see one fault, e'en one, To dim the fame of Raghu's son, That fault this hour, O lady, show, And Rama to the wood shall go. To drive the guiltless to the wild, Truth's constant lover, undefiled, Would, by defiance of the right, The glory e'en of Indra blight. Then cease, O lady, and dismiss Thy hope to ruin Rama's bliss, Or all thy gain, O fair of face, Will be men's hatred, and disgrace."

Thus, by the rankling dart oppressed, Kakutstha's offspring he addressed: In earth his mighty body lay, His spirit fled to heaven away.

Thus Rama, Indra's peer in might, Addressed the aged anchorite: And he, with wisdom well endued, To Raghu's son his speech renewed:

As, clad in mendicant's disguise, He questioned thus his destined prize, She to the seeming saintly man The story of her life began. "My guest is he," she thought, "and I, To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:" "Child of a noble sire I spring From Janak, fair Videha's king. May every good be thine! my name Is Sita, Rama's cherished dame. Twelve winters with my lord I spent Most happily with sweet content In the rich home of Raghu's line, And every earthly joy was mine. Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then His peers advised the king of men, Rama, my lord, to consecrate Joint ruler of his ancient state. But when the rites were scarce begun, To consecrate Ikshvaku's son, The queen Kaikeyi, honoured dame, Sought of her lord an ancient claim. Her plea of former service pressed, And made him grant her new request, To banish Rama to the wild And consecrate instead her child. This double prayer on him, the best And truest king, she strongly pressed: "Mine eyes in sleep I will not close, Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose. This very day my death shall bring If Rama be anointed king." As thus she spake in envious ire, The aged king, my husband's sire, Besought with fitting words; but she Was cold and deaf to every plea. As yet my days are few; eighteen The years of life that I have seen; And Rama, best of all alive, Has passed of years a score and five-- Rama the great and gentle, through All region famed as pure and true, Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall, With tender heart that cares for all. But Dasaratha, led astray By woman's wile and passion's sway, By his strong love of her impelled, The consecrating rites withheld. When, hopeful of the promised grace, My Rama sought his father's face, The queen Kaikeyi, ill at ease, Spoke to my lord brief words like these: "Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me The words thy father says to thee: "I yield this day to Bharat's hand, Free from all foes, this ancient land.

The wounded Bali, when he saw Rama and Lakshman nearer draw, Keen words to Raghu's son, impressed With justice' holy stamp, addressed:

Thus all the princely Vanars, true To their appointed tasks, withdrew. Sugriva deemed already done The work he planned for Raghu's son. Then Lakshman gently spoke and cheered Sugriva for his valour feared: "Now, chieftain, if thy will be so, Forth from Kishkindha let us go." Sugriva's heart swelled high with pride As to the prince he thus replied: "Come, speed we forth without delay: 'Tis mine thy mandate to obey." Sugriva bade the dames adieu, And Tara and the rest withdrew. Then at their chieftain's summons came The Vanars first in rank and fame, A trusty brave and reverent band, Meet e'en before a queen to stand. They at his call made haste to bring The litter of the glorious king. "Mount, O my friend." Sugriva cried, And straight Sumitra's son complied. Then took by Lakshman's side his place The sovereign of the woodland race, Upraised by Vanars, fleet and strong, Who bore the glittering load along. On high above his royal head A paly canopy was spread, And chouries white in many a hand The forehead of the monarch fanned, And shell and drum and song and shout Pealed round him as the king passed out. About the monarch went a throng Of Vanar warriors brave and strong, As onward to the mountain shade Where Rama dwelt his way he made. Soon as the lovely spot he viewed Where Rama lived in solitude, The Vanar monarch, far-renowed, With Lakshman, lightly stepped to ground, And to the son of Raghu went Joining his raised hands reverent. As their great leader raised his hands, So suppliant stood the Vanar bands. Well pleased the son of Raghu saw Those legions, hushed in reverent awe, Stand silent like the tranquil floods That raise their hands of lotus buds. But Rama, when the king, to greet His friend, had bowed him at his feet, Raised him who ruled the Vanar race, And held him in a close embrace: Then, when his arms he had unknit, Besought him by his side to sit, And thus with gentle words the best Of men the Vanar king addressed:

"O Rama these, well known erewhile, Are giant sons of Lanka's isle, Two counsellors of Ravan sent To watch the invading armament."

The hermit heard with high content That speech so wondrous eloquent, And while each hair with joy arose,(142) He thus made answer at the close: "Good is thy speech O noble King, And like thyself in everything. So should their lips be wisdom-fraught Whom kings begot, Vasishtha taught. The favour which I came to seek Thou grantest ere my tongue can speak. But let my tale attention claim, And hear the need for which I came. O King, as Scripture texts allow, A holy rite employs me now. Two fiends who change their forms at will Impede that rite with cursed skill.(143) Oft when the task is nigh complete, These worst of fiends my toil defeat, Throw bits of bleeding flesh, and o'er The altar shed a stream of gore. When thus the rite is mocked and stayed, And all my pious hopes delayed, Cast down in heart the spot I leave, And spent with fruitless labour grieve. Nor can I, checked by prudence, dare Let loose my fury on them there: The muttered curse, the threatening word, In such a rite must ne'er be heard. Thy grace the rite from check can free. And yield the fruit I long to see. Thy duty bids thee, King, defend The suffering guest, the suppliant friend. Give me thy son, thine eldest born, Whom locks like raven's wings adorn. That hero youth, the truly brave, Of thee, O glorious King, I crave. For he can lay those demons low Who mar my rites and work me woe: My power shall shield the youth from harm, And heavenly might shall nerve his arm. And on my champion will I shower Unnumbered gifts of varied power, Such gifts as shall ensure his fame And spread through all the worlds his name. Be sure those fiends can never stand Before the might of Rama's hand, And mid the best and bravest none Can slay that pair but Raghu's son. Entangled in the toils of Fate Those sinners, proud and obstinate, Are, in their fury overbold, No match for Rama mighty-souled. Nor let a father's breast give way Too far to fond affection's sway.

The Sons of Heaven, in wild alarm, Soft flatteries tried his rage to charm. Then Bhava, Lord whom Gods adore, Grew kind and friendly as before, And every torn and mangled limb Was safe and sound restored by him. Thenceforth this bow, the gem of bows, That freed the God of Gods from foes, Stored by our great forefathers lay A treasure and a pride for aye. Once, as it chanced, I ploughed the ground, When sudden, 'neath the share was found An infant springing from the earth, Named Sita from her secret birth.(246) In strength and grace the maiden grew, My cherished daughter, fair to view. I vowed her, of no mortal birth, Meet prize for noblest hero's worth. In strength and grace the maiden grew, And many a monarch came to woo. To all the princely suitors I Gave, mighty Saint, the same reply: "I give not thus my daughter, she Prize of heroic worth shall be.(247) To Mithila the suitors pressed Their power and might to manifest. To all who came with hearts aglow I offered Siva's wondrous bow. Not one of all the royal band Could raise or take the bow in hand. The suitors' puny might I spurned, And back the feeble princes turned. Enraged thereat, the warriors met, With force combined my town beset. Stung to the heart with scorn and shame, With war and threats they madly came, Besieged my peaceful walls, and long To Mithila did grievous wrong. There, wasting all, a year they lay, And brought my treasures to decay, Filling my soul, O Hermit chief, With bitter woe and hopeless grief. At last by long-wrought penance I Won favour with the Gods on high, Who with my labours well content A four-fold host to aid me sent. Then swift the baffled heroes fled To all the winds discomfited-- Wrong-doers, with their lords and host, And all their valour's idle boast. This heavenly bow, exceeding bright, These youths shall see, O Anchorite. Then if young Rama's hand can string The bow that baffled lord and king, To him I give, as I have sworn, My Sita, not of woman born."

The daughter of Videha's king, While Rama strove to soothe the sting Of her deep anguish, thus began Once more in furtherance of her plan: And with her spirit sorely tried By fear and anger, love and pride, With keenly taunting words addressed Her hero of the stately breast: "Why did the king my sire, who reigns O'er fair Videha's wide domains, Hail Rama son with joy unwise, A woman in a man's disguise? Now falsely would the people say, By idle fancies led astray, That Rama's own are power and might, As glorious as the Lord of Light. Why sinkest thou in such dismay? What fears upon thy spirit weigh, That thou, O Rama, fain wouldst flee From her who thinks of naught but thee? To thy dear will am I resigned In heart and body, soul and mind, As Savitri gave all to one, Satyavan, Dyumatsena's son.(304) Not e'en in fancy can I brook To any guard save thee to look: Let meaner wives their houses shame, To go with thee is all my claim. Like some low actor, deemst thou fit Thy wife to others to commit-- Thine own, espoused in maiden youth, Thy wife so long, unblamed for truth? Do thou, my lord, his will obey For whom thou losest royal sway, To whom thou wouldst thy wife confide-- Not me, but thee, his wish may guide. Thou must not here thy wife forsake, And to the wood thy journey make, Whether stern penance, grief, and care, Or rule or heaven await thee there. Nor shall fatigue my limbs distress When wandering in the wilderness: Each path which near to thee I tread Shall seem a soft luxurious bed. The reeds, the bushes where I pass, The thorny trees, the tangled grass Shall feel, if only thou be near, Soft to my touch as skins of deer. When the rude wind in fury blows, And scattered dust upon me throws, That dust, beloved lord, to me Shall as the precious sandal be. And what shall be more blest than I, When gazing on the wood I lie In some green glade upon a bed With sacred grass beneath us spread?

So Bharat to his grandsire went Obedient to the message sent, And for his fond companion chose Satrughna slayer of his foes.(258) There Bharat for a time remained With love and honour entertained, King Asvapati's constant care, Beloved as a son and heir. Yet ever, as they lived at ease, While all around combined to please, The aged sire they left behind Was present to each hero's mind. Nor could the king's fond memory stray From his brave children far away, Dear Bharat and Satrughna dear, Each Varun's match or Indra's peer.

He ceased: and Raghu's son gave heed, Attentive to his prudent rede: Then turned again, with hope inspired, To Hanuman, and thus inquired:

Thus Raghu's son the chiefs addressed: Then, gazing on Suvela's crest, Transported by the lovely sight, He longed to climb the mountain height.

Thus as he spoke his bow he drew, And seven keen shafts at Lakshman flew, But Raghu's son with surest aim Cleft every arrow as it came. Thus with fleet shafts each warrior shot Against his foe, and rested not. Then one choice weapon from his store, By Brahma's self bestowed of yore, Fierce as the flames that end the world, The giant king at Lakshman hurled. The hero fell, and racked with pain, Scarce could his hand his bow retain. But sense and strength resumed their seat And, lightly springing to his feet, He struck with one tremendous stroke And Ravan's bow in splinters broke. From Lakshman's cord three arrows flew And pierced the giant monarch through. Sore wounded Ravan closed, and round Ikshvaku's son his strong arms wound. With strength unrivalled, Brahma's gift, He strove from earth his foe to lift. "Shall I," he cried, "who overthrow Mount Meru and the Lord of Snow, And heaven and all who dwell therein, Be foiled by one of Rama's kin?" But though he heaved, and toiled, and strained, Unmoved Ikshvaku's son remained. His frame by those huge arms compressed The giant's God-given force confessed, But conscious that himself was part Of Vishnu, he was firm in heart.

She ceased. The troubled damsel sighed Sighs long and hot, and thus replied: "What madness has possessed thy mind, To warnings deaf, to dangers blind? Canst thou not see the floods of woe That threaten o'er thine head to flow: First Rama will the throne acquire, Then Rama's son succeed his sire, While Bharat will neglected pine Excluded from the royal line. Not all his sons, O lady fair, The kingdom of a monarch share: All ruling when a sovereign dies Wild tumult in the state would rise. The eldest, be he good or ill, Is ruler by the father's will. Know, tender mother, that thy son Without a friend and all undone, Far from the joyous ease of home An alien from his race will roam. I sped to thee for whom I feel, But thy fond heart mistakes my zeal, Thy hand a present would bestow Because thy rival triumphs so. When Rama once begins his sway Without a foe his will to stay, Thy darling Bharat he will drive To distant lands if left alive. By thee the child was sent away Beneath his grandsire's roof to stay. Even in stocks and stones perforce Will friendship spring from intercourse. The young Satrughna too would go With Bharat, for he loved him so. As Lakshman still to Rama cleaves, He his dear Bharat never leaves. There is an ancient tale they tell: A tree the foresters would fell Was saved by reeds that round it stood, For love that sprang of neighbourhood. So Lakshman Rama will defend, And each on each for aid depend. Such fame on earth their friendship wins As that which binds the Heavenly Twins. And Rama ne'er will purpose wrong To Lakshman, for their love is strong. But Bharat, Oh, of this be sure, Must evil at his hands endure. Come, Rama from his home expel An exile in the woods to dwell. The plan, O Queen, which I advise Secures thy weal if thou be wise. So we and all thy kith and kin Advantage from thy gain shall win. Shall Bharat, meet for happier fate, Born to endure his rival's hate, With all his fortune ruined cower And dread his brother's mightier power!

Thus Rama showed to Janak's child The varied beauties of the wild, The hill, the brook and each fair spot, Then turned to seek their leafy cot. North of the mountain Rama found A cavern in the sloping ground, Charming to view, its floor was strown With many a mass of ore and stone, In secret shadow far retired Where gay birds sang with joy inspired, And trees their graceful branches swayed With loads of blossom downward weighed. Soon as he saw the cave which took Each living heart and chained the look, Thus Rama spoke to Sita who Gazed wondering on the silvan view: "Does this fair cave beneath the height, Videhan lady, charm thy sight? Then let us resting here a while The languor of the way beguile. That block of stone so smooth and square Was set for thee to rest on there, And like a thriving Kesar tree This flowery shrub o'ershadows thee." Thus Rama spoke, and Janak's child, By nature ever soft and mild, In tender words which love betrayed Her answer to the hero made: "O pride of Raghu's children, still My pleasure is to do thy will. Enough for me thy wish to know: Far hast thou wandered to and fro."

"Ah me, ah me, my days are told: O see me in the giant's hold. Fly, son of Raghu, swiftly flee, And thy dear self from danger free. Me to the fiend an offering give; Fly at thine ease thyself and live. Thou, great Kakutstha's son, I ween, Wilt find ere long thy Maithil queen, And when thou holdest, throned again, Thine old hereditary reign, With servants prompt to do thy will, O think upon thy brother still." As thus the trembling Lakshman cried, The dauntless Rama thus replied: "Brother, from causeless dread forbear. A chief like thee should scorn despair." He spoke to soothe his wild alarm: Then fierce Kabandha(517) long of arm, Among the Danavs(518) first and best, The sons of Raghu thus addressed: "What men are you, whose shoulders show Broad as a bull's, with sword and bow, Who roam this dark and horrid place, Brought by your fate before my face? Declare by what occasion led These solitary wilds you tread, With swords and bows and shafts to pierce, Like bulls whose horns are strong and fierce. Why have you sought this forest land Where wild with hunger's pangs I stand? Now as your steps my path have crossed Esteem your lives already lost."

Vasishtha thus was speaking still: The monarch, of his own free will, Bade with quick zeal and joyful cheer Rama and Lakshman hasten near. Mother and sire in loving care Sped their dear son with rite and prayer: Vasishtha blessed him ere he went; O'er his loved head the father bent, And then to Kusik's son resigned Rama with Lakshman close behind. Standing by Visvamitra's side, The youthful hero, lotus-eyed, The Wind-God saw, and sent a breeze Whose sweet pure touch just waved the trees. There fell from heaven a flowery rain, And with the song and dance the strain Of shell and tambour sweetly blent As forth the son of Raghu went. The hermit led: behind him came The bow-armed Rama, dear to fame, Whose locks were like the raven's wing:(147) Then Lakshman, closely following. The Gods and Indra, filled with joy, Looked down upon the royal boy, And much they longed the death to see Of their ten-headed enemy.(148) Rama and Lakshman paced behind That hermit of the lofty mind, As the young Asvins,(149) heavenly pair, Follow Lord Indra through the air. On arm and hand the guard they wore, Quiver and bow and sword they bore; Two fire-born Gods of War seemed they.(150) He, Siva's self who led the way.

Up, Queen, to save thy son, arise; Prostrate at Rama's feet he lies. So the proud elephant who leads His trooping consorts through the reeds Falls in the forest shade beneath The lion's spring and murderous teeth. Scorned by thee in thy bliss and pride Kausalya was of old defied, And will she now forbear to show The vengeful rancour of a foe? O Queen, thy darling is undone When Rama's hand has once begun Ayodhya's realm to sway, Come, win the kingdom for thy child And drive the alien to the wild In banishment to-day."

The son of Raghu heard the plaint Of penance-loving sage and saint, And the good prince his speech renewed To all the hermit multitude:

Thus with wild fury unrepressed Raghu's brave son the fiend addressed; And Khara, as his wrath grew high, Thus thundered forth his fierce reply:

Akampan heard, and straight obeyed His master, and his answer made. Then thus the power and might he told Of Raghu's son the lofty-souled:

She saw no friend to aid her, none, Not Rama nor the younger son Of Dasaratha, and undone She swooned with fear and pain.

Sumitra's son, his eyes bedewed With piteous tears, thus sighed and sued. Then, trained in all the arts that guide The speaker, Hanuman replied:

When Jambumali's death he heard, King Ravan's heart with rage was stirred And forth his general's sons he sent, For power and might preeminent.

The son of Raghu heard, consoled, The wondrous tale Hanuman told; And, as his joyous hope grew high, In friendly words he made reply:

When Raghu's son had owned his claim Down from the air Vibhishan came, And with his four attendants bent At Rama's feet most reverent.

So Rama and Sumitra's son, When every honour due was done, Slept through the night. When morning broke, The heroes from their rest awoke. Betimes the son of Raghu rose, With gentle Sita, from repose, And sipped the cool delicious wave Sweet with the scent the lotus gave, Then to the Gods and sacred flame The heroes and the lady came, And bent their heads in honour meet Within the hermit's pure retreat. When every stain was purged away, They saw the rising Lord of Day: Then to Sutikshna's side they went, And softly spoke, most reverent:

Hope at the name of Rama woke, And thus the gentle lady spoke: "I am that Sita wooed and won By Dasaratha's royal son, The noblest of Ikshvaku's line; And every earthly joy was mine. But Rama left his royal home In Dandak's tangled wilds to roam. Where with Sumitra's son and me, He lived a saintly devotee. The giant Ravan came with guile And bore me thence to Lanka's isle. Some respite yet the fiend allows, Two months of life, to Rama's spouse. Two moons of hopeless woe remain, And then the captive will be slain."

He questioned thus: and she began To tell her deeds and crafty plan. Deceitful-hearted, fond, and blind As is the way of womankind: "No Brahman's wealth has Rama seized, No dame his wandering fancy pleased; His very eyes he ne'er allows To gaze upon a neighbour's spouse. But when I heard the monarch planned To give the realm to Rama's hand, I prayed that Rama hence might flee, And claimed the throne, my son, for thee. The king maintained the name he bare, And did according to my prayer, And Rama, with his brother, sent, And Sita, forth to banishment. When his dear son was seen no more, The lord of earth was troubled sore: Too feeble with his grief to strive, He joined the elemental Five. Up then, most dutiful! maintain The royal state, arise, and reign. For thee, my darling son, for thee All this was planned and wrought by me. Come, cast thy grief and pain aside, With manly courage fortified. This town and realm are all thine own, And fear and grief are here unknown. Come, with Vasishtha's guiding aid, And priests in ritual skilled Let the king's funeral dues be paid, And every claim fulfilled. Perform his obsequies with all That suits his rank and worth, Then give the mandate to install Thyself as lord of earth."

Thus with his words he undeceived Kausalya's troubled heart, who grieved For son and husband reft away; Then prostrate on the ground he lay. Him as he lay half-senseless there, Freed by the mighty oaths he sware, Kausalya, by her woe distressed, With melancholy words addressed: "Anew, my son, this sorrow springs To rend my heart with keener stings: These awful oaths which thou hast sworn My breast with double grief have torn. Thy soul, and faithful Lakshman's too, Are still, thank Heaven! to virtue true. True to thy promise, thou shalt gain The mansions which the good obtain."

He spoke no more: and Angad heard The menace of the mighty bird; And thus, while anguish filled his breast, The noble Hanuman addressed: "Vivasvat's(762) son has sought this place For vengeance on the Vanar race. See, Yama, wroth for Sita's sake, Is come our guilty lives to take. Our king's decree is left undone, And naught achieved for Raghu's son. In duty have we failed, and hence Comes punishment for dire offence. Have we not heard the marvels wrought By King Jatayus,(763) how he fought With Ravan's might, and, nobly brave, Perished, the Maithil queen to save? There is no living creature, none, But loves to die for Raghu's son, And in long toils and dangers we Have placed our lives in jeopardy. Blest is Jatayus, he who gave His life the Maithil queen to save, And proved his love for Rama well When by the giant's hand he fell. Now raised to bliss and high renown He fears not fierce Sugriva's frown. Alas, alas! what miseries spring From that rash promise of the king!(764) His own sad death, and Rama sent With Lakshman forth to banishment: The Maithil lady borne away: Jatayus slain in mortal fray: The fall of Bali when the dart Of Rama quivered in his heart: And, after toil and pain and care, Our misery and deep despair."

"Ikshvaku's sons from days of old Were ever brave and mighty-souled. The land their arms had made their own Was bounded by the sea alone. Their holy works have won them praise, Through countless years, from Manu's days. Their ancient sire was Sagar, he Whose high command dug out the sea:(61) With sixty thousand sons to throng Around him as he marched along. From them this glorious tale proceeds: The great Ramayan tells their deeds. This noble song whose lines contain Lessons of duty, love, and gain, We two will now at length recite, While good men listen with delight.

Thus speeding on,--no rest or stay,-- Ikshvaku's son pursued his way. Oft his sweet voice the silence broke, And thus on varied themes he spoke.

Sitting at ease, their glances fell Upon the beds, constructed well, And there the sons of virtue laid Their limbs beneath the fig tree's shade.

To Rama shall my steps be bent, My King, of men most excellent, Raghu's illustrious son, whose sway Might hell, and earth, and heaven obey."

When Rama, pride of Raghu's race, Virtue's dear son, had cleft the mace, Thus with superior smile the best Of chiefs the furious fiend addressed:

"Go forth, my fiercest captain, lead The bravest of the giants' breed. Go forth, the sons of Raghu slay And by their side Sugriva lay."

"Haste, Matali," he cried, "descend; To Raghu's son my chariot lend. With cheering words the chief address; And all the Gods thy deed will bless."

He ceased: the magic car was brought. Of yore by Visvakarma wrought. In sunlike sheen it flashed and blazed; And Raghu's sons in wonder gazed.

The queen, by Rama thus addressed, Still with a mother's grief oppressed, While her long eyes with tears were dim, Began once more and answered him: "Not by my pleading may be stayed The firm resolve thy soul has made. My hero, thou wilt go; and none The stern commands of Fate may shun. Go forth, dear child whom naught can bend, And may all bliss thy steps attend. Thou wilt return, and that dear day Will chase mine every grief away. Thou wilt return, thy duty done, Thy vows discharged, high glory won; From filial debt wilt thou be free, And sweetest joy will come on me. My son, the will of mighty Fate At every time must dominate, If now it drives thee hence to stray Heedless of me who bid thee stay. Go, strong of arm, go forth, my boy, Go forth, again to come with joy, And thine expectant mother cheer With those sweet tones she loves to hear. O that the blessed hour were nigh When thou shalt glad this anxious eye, With matted hair and hermit dress returning from the wilderness." Kausalya's conscious soul approved, As her proud glance she bent On Rama constant and unmoved, Resolved on banishment. Such words, with happy omens fraught To her dear son she said, Invoking with each eager thought A blessing on his head.

Thus questioned by the prince, at length Kaikeyi's son regained his strength, And hand to hand in reverence laid, To Rama thus his answer made: "The great-armed monarch, O my lord, Has dared to do a thing abhorred, Left us, and grieving for his son, A home among the Gods has won. My mother Queen Kaikeyi gave The order to the king her slave, And at the bidding of the dame He wrought the sin which mars his fame. Athirst for sway, her hopes are crossed, She mourns her son, her husband lost, And through her impious crime will go For punishment to hell below. Now O my lord, forgive me all; Be gracious to thy lowly thrall: Anointed king, accept to-day Like Indra's self, the royal sway. Be gracious, Prince, to lord and peer, And widowed queens who seek thee here Accept the kingdom thine by right, And so thy faithful friends delight. Let the broad land no longer be All widowed and forlorn of thee: Let the full moon of autumn reign Triumphant o'er the night again. These lords and I before thee bend: O Rama, to our prayer attend. O do not thou this grace deny: Thy brother, pupil, slave am I. Look on this venerable ring, Advisers of our sire the king, From age to age so honoured: thou Shouldst grant their supplication now."

Thus spake the Vanar prince, and, stirred With friendly thoughts, Sugriva heard. The light of joy his face o'erspread, And thus to Raghu's son he said: "O Prince, in rules of duty trained, Caring for all with love unfeigned, Hanuman's tongue has truly shown The virtues that are thine alone. My chiefest glory, gain, and bliss, O stranger Prince, I reckon this, That Raghu's son will condescend To seek the Vanar for his friend. If thou my true ally wouldst be Accept the pledge I offer thee, This hand in sign of friendship take, And bind the bond we ne'er will break."

The city dames, with grief distressed, Thus once again their lords addressed: "Rama shall be your guard and guide, And Sita will for us provide. For who would care to linger here, Where all is sad and dark and drear? Who, mid the mourners, hope for bliss In a poor soulless town like this? If Queen Kaikeyi's treacherous sin, Our lord expelled, the kingdom win, We heed not sons or golden store, Our life itself we prize no more. If she, seduced by lust of sway, Her lord and son could cast away, Whom would she leave unharmed, the base Defiler of her royal race? We swear it by our children dear, We will not dwell as servants here; If Queen Kaikeyi live to reign, We will not in her realm remain. Bowed down by her oppressive hand, The helpless, lordless, godless land, Cursed for Kaikeyi's guilt will fall, And swift destruction seize it all. For, Rama forced from home to fly, The king his sire will surely die, And when the king has breathed his last Ruin will doubtless follow fast. Sad, robbed of merits, drug the cup And drink the poisoned mixture up, Or share the exiled Rama's lot, Or seek some land that knows her not. No reason, but a false pretence Drove Rama, Sita, Lakshman hence, And we to Bharat have been given Like cattle to the shambles driven."

He spoke: and Bharat thus replied: "If, false to every claim beside, I ne'er in kingly duties fail, What will my royal life avail? Still should the custom be observed, From which our line has never swerved, Which to the younger son ne'er gives The kingdom while the elder lives. Now to Ayodhya rich and fair With me, O Raghu's son, repair, And to protect and gladden all Our house, thyself as king install. A king the world's opinion deems A man: to me a God he seems, Whose life in virtuous thoughts and deeds The lives of other men exceeds. When I in distant Kekaya stayed, And thou hadst sought the forest shade, Our father died, the saints' delight, So constant in each holy rite. Scarce with thy wife and Lakshman thou Hadst journeyed forth to keep the vow, When mourning for his son, forspent, To heavenly rest the monarch went. Then up, O lord of men, away! His funeral rites of water pay: I and Satrughna, ere we came, Neglected not the sacred claim. But in the spirit-world, they say, That gift alone is fresh for aye Which best beloved hands have poured; And thou his dearest art, my lord. For thee he longed, for thee he grieved, His every thought on thee was bent, And crushed by woe, of thee bereaved, He thought of thee as hence he went."

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

Bhagirath, rich in glory's light, The hero with the arm of might, Thus to the Lord of earth and sky Raised suppliant hands and made reply: "If the great God his favour deigns, And my long toil its fruit obtains, Let Sagar's sons receive from me Libations that they long to see. Let Ganga with her holy wave The ashes of the heroes lave, That so my kinsmen may ascend To heavenly bliss that ne'er shall end. And give, I pray, O God, a son, Nor let my house be all undone. Sire of the worlds! be this the grace Bestowed upon Ikshvaku's race."