Ramayana on Courage

To Matali, whom Indra sent, His head the son of Raghu bent: And he with fiery steeds who clove The clouds again to Swarga drove. Round King Sugriva brave and true His arms in rapture Rama threw, Looked on the host with joy and pride, And thus to noble Lakshman cried:

"Receive," he cried, "this precious ring,(859) Sure token from thy lord the king: The golden ring he wont to wear: See, Rama's name engraven there." Then, as she took the ring he showed, The tears that spring of rapture flowed. She seemed to touch the hand that sent The dearly valued ornament, And with her heart again at ease, Replied in gentle words like these: "O thou, whose soul no fears deter, Wise, brave, and faithful messenger! And hast thou dared, o'er wave and foam, To seek me in the giants' home? In thee, true messenger, I find The noblest of thy woodland kind. Who couldst, unmoved by terror, brook On Ravan, king of fiends, to look. Now may we commune here as friends, For he whom royal Rama sends Must needs be one in danger tried, A valiant, wise, and faithful guide. Say, is it well with Rama still? Lives Lakshman yet untouched by ill? Then why should Rama's hand be slow To free his consort from her woe? Why spare to burn, in search of me, The land encircled by the sea? Can Bharat send no army out With banners, cars and battle shout? Cannot thy king Sugriva lend His legions to assist his friend?"

There Dhumra, mighty lord, the dread Of foes, his ursine legions led. There Panas, first for warlike fame, With twenty million warriors came. There glorious Nila, dark of hue, Arrayed his countless troops in view. There moved lord Gavaya brave and bold, Resplendent like a hill of gold, And near him Darimukha stood With millions from the hill and wood And Dwivid famed for strength and speed, And Mamda, both of Asvin seed. There Gaja, strong and glorious, led The countless troops around him spread, And Jambavan(657) the king whose sway The bears delighted to obey, With swarming myriads onward pressed True to his lord Sugriva's hest; And princely Ruman, dear to fame, Led millions whom no hosts could tame, All these and many a chief beside(658) Came onward fierce in warlike pride. They covered all the plain, and still Pressed forward over wood and hill. In rows for many a league around They rested on the grassy ground; Or to Sugriva made their way, Like clouds about the Lord of Day, And to the king their proud heads bent In power and might preeminent. Sugriva then to Rama sped, And raised his reverent hands, and said That every chief from coast to coast Was present with his warrior host.

Then slowly gathering sense and strength The weeping hero rose at length, And words like these to Guha spake, That bade Kausalya comfort take: "Where lodged the prince that night? and where Lakshman the brave, and Sita fair? Show me the couch whereon he lay, Tell me the food he ate, I pray."

But Tara, when her weeping eye Saw Bali, on the litter lie, Laid his dear head upon her lap, And wailed aloud her dire mishap; "O mighty Vanar, lord and king, To whose fond breast I loved to cling, Of goodly arms, wise, brave, and bold, Rise, look upon me as of old. Rise up, my sovereign, dost thou see A crowd of subjects weep for thee? Still o'er thy face, though breath has fled, The joyous light of life is spread: Thus around the sun, although he set, A crimson glory lingers yet. Death clad in Rama's form to-day Hast dragged thee from the world away. One shaft from his tremendous bow Dooms us to widowhood and woe. Hast thou, O Vanar King, no eyes Thy weeping wives to recognize, Who for the length of way unmeet Have followed thee with weary feet? Yet every moon-faced beauty here By thee, O King was counted dear. Lord of the Vanar race, hast thou No eyes to see Sugriva now? About thee stands in mournful mood A sore-afflicted multitude, And Tara and thy lords of state Around their monarch weep and wait. Arise my lord, with gentle speech, As was thy wont, dismissing each, Then in the forest will we play And love shall make our spirits gay."

"How couldst thou leave thine Angad thus, And go, for ever go, from us-- Thy child so dear in brave attire, Graced with the virtues of his sire? If e'er in want of thought, O chief, One deed of mine have caused thee grief, Forgive my folly, I entreat, And with my head I touch thy feet."

On to Prasravan's hill they sped Where blooming trees their branches spread. To Raghu's sons their heads they bent And did obeisance reverent. Then to their king, by Angad led, Each Vanar chieftain bowed his head; And Hanuman the brave and bold His tidings to the monarch told; But first in Rama's hand he placed The gem that Sita's brow had graced: "I crossed the sea: I searched a while For Sita in the giants' isle. I found her vext with taunt and threat By demon guards about her set. Her tresses twined in single braid, On the bare earth her limbs were laid. Sad were her eyes: her cheeks were pale As shuddering flowers in winter's gale. I stood beside the weeping dame, And gently whispered Rama's name: With cheering words her grief consoled, And then the whole adventure told. She weeps afar beyond the sea, And her true heart is still with thee. She gave a sign that thou wouldst know, She bids thee think upon the crow, And bright mark pressed upon her brow When none was nigh but she and thou. She bids thee take this precious stone, The sea-born gem thou long hast known. "And I," she said, "will dull the sting Of woe by gazing on the ring. One little month shall I sustain This life oppressed with woe and pain: And when the month is ended, I The giants' prey must surely die.' "

"A king of Brahma's seed who bore The name of Kusa reigned of yore. Just, faithful to his vows, and true, He held the good in honour due. His bride, a queen of noble name, Of old Vidarbha's(172) monarchs came. Like their own father, children four, All valiant boys, the lady bore. In glorious deeds each nerve they strained, And well their Warrior part sustained. To them most just, and true, and brave, Their father thus his counsel gave: "Beloved children, ne'er forget Protection is a prince's debt: The noble work at once begin, High virtue and her fruits to win." The youths, to all the people dear, Received his speech with willing ear; And each went forth his several way, Foundations of a town to lay. Kusamba, prince of high renown, Was builder of Kausambi's town, And Kusanabha, just and wise, Bade high Mahodaya's towers arise. Amurtarajas chose to dwell In Dharmaranya's citadel, And Vasu bade his city fair The name of Girivraja bear.(173) This fertile spot whereon we stand Was once the high-souled Vasu's land. Behold! as round we turn our eyes, Five lofty mountain peaks arise. See! bursting from her parent hill, Sumagadhi, a lovely rill, Bright gleaming as she flows between The mountains, like a wreath is seen, And then through Magadh's plains and groves With many a fair maeander roves. And this was Vasu's old domain, The fertile Magadh's broad champaign, Which smiling fields of tilth adorn And diadem with golden corn.

When the king comes still mournful lie, Speak not a word nor meet his eye, But let thy tears in torrent flow, And lie enamoured of thy woe. Well do I know thou long hast been, And ever art, his darling queen. For thy dear sake, O well-loved dame, The mighty king would brave the flame, But ne'er would anger thee, or brook To meet his favourite's wrathful look. Thy loving lord would even die Thy fancy, Queen, to gratify, And never could he arm his breast To answer nay to thy request. Listen and learn, O dull of sense, Thine all-resistless influence. Gems he will offer, pearls and gold: Refuse his gifts, be stern and cold. Those proffered boons at length recall, And claim them till he grants thee all. And O my lady, high in bliss, With heedful thought forget not this. When from the ground his queen he lifts And grants again the promised gifts, Bind him with oaths he cannot break And thy demands unflnching, make. That Rama travel to the wild Five years and nine from home exiled, And Bharat, best of all who reign, The empire of the land obtain. For when this term of years has fled Over the banished Rama's head, Thy royal son to vigour grown And rooted firm will stand alone. The king, I know, is well inclined, And this the hour to move his mind. Be bold: the threatened rite prevent, And force the king from his intent."

Fly from this home no longer thine, And dwell in woods five years and nine. Live in the forest and maintain Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.' " Then Rama spoke, untouched by dread: "Yea, it shall be as thou hast said." And answered, faithful to his vows, Obeying Dasaratha's spouse: "The offered realm I would not take, But still keep true the words he spake." Thus, gentle Brahman, Rama still Clung to his vow with firmest will. And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame, His brother by a younger dame, Bold victor in the deadly fray, Would follow Rama on his way. On sternest vows his heart was set, And he, a youthful anchoret, Bound up in twisted coil his hair And took the garb which hermits wear; Then with his bow to guard us, he Went forth with Rama and with me. By Queen Kaikeyi's art bereft The kingdom and our home we left, And bound by stern religious vows We sought this shade of forest boughs. Now, best of Brahmans, here we tread These pathless regions dark and dread. But come, refresh thy soul, and rest Here for a while an honoured guest, For he, my lord, will soon be here With fresh supply of woodland cheer, Large store of venison of the buck, Or some great boar his hand has struck. Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer: Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare, And why with no companion thou Roamest in Dandak forest now."

Thus urged Sugriva famed for lore Of moving words, and spoke no more. Then Rama thus in turn addressed The bold Hanuman and the rest: "Chiefs of the Vanar legions each Of you heard Sugriva's speech. What think ye now in time of fear, When peril and distress are near, In every doubt the wise depend For counsel on a faithful friend."

She ceased: the sound, long loud and clear, Of gathering armies smote her ear, Where call of drum and shell rang out, The tambour and the battle shout; And, while the din the echoes woke, Again to Janak's child she spoke: "Hear, lady, hear the loud alarms That call the Rakshas troops to arms, From stable and from stall they lead The elephant and neighing steed, Brace harness on with deftest care, And chariots for the fight prepare. Swift o'er the trembling ground career Mailed horsemen armed with axe and spear, And here and there in road and street The terrible battalions meet. I hear the gathering near and far, The snorting steed, the rattling car. Bold chieftains, leaders of the brave, Press densely on, like wave on wave, And bright the evening sunbeams glance On helm and shield, on sword and lance. Hark, lady, to the ringing steel, Hark to the rolling chariot wheel: Hark to the mettled courser's neigh And drums' loud thunder far away. The Queen of Fortune holds thee dear, For Lanka's troops are struck with fear, And Rama with the lotus eyes, Like Indra monarch of the skies, With conquering arm will slay his foe And free his lady from her woe. Soon will his breast support thy head, And tears of joy thine eyes will shed. Soon by his mighty arm embraced The long-lost rapture wilt thou taste, And Rama, meet for highest bliss, Will gain his guerdon in thy kiss."

Nor could their matchless valour shield These heroes on the battle field. I sorrow for the noble dead, I mourn my hopes for ever fled; But chief my weeping eyes o'erflow For Queen Kausalya's hopeless woe. The widowed queen is counting now Each hour prescribed by Rama's vow, And lives because she longs to see Once more her princely sons and me."

But Indrajit the fierce and bold With words like these his sire consoled: "Dismiss, O King, thy grief and dread, And be not thus disquieted. Against this numbing sorrow strive, For Indrajit is yet alive; And none in battle may withstand The fury of his strong right hand. This day, O sire, thine eyes shall see The sons of Raghu slain by me."

Vasishtha then, with eager cry, Called, "Fear not, friends, nor seek to fly. This son of Gadhi dies to-day, Like hoar-frost in the morning's ray." Thus having said, the glorious sage Spoke to the king in words of rage: "Because thou hast destroyed this grove Which long in holy quiet throve, By folly urged to senseless crime, Now shalt thou die before thy time."

"You ne'er can raise the dead to bliss By agony of grief like this. Cease your lament, nor leave undone The funeral task you may not shun. As nature orders o'er the dead. Your tributary tears are shed, But Fate, directing each event, Is still the lord preeminent. Yes, all obey the changeless laws Of Fate the universal cause. By Fate, the lives of all proceed, That governs every word and deed, None acts, none sees his hest obeyed, But each and all by Fate are swayed. The world its ordered course maintains, And o'er that course Fate ever reigns. Fate ne'er exceeds the rule of Fate: Is ne'er too swift, is ne'er too late, And making nature its ally Forgets no life, nor passes by. No kith and kin, no power and force Can check or stay its settled course, No friend or client, grace or charm, That victor of the world disarm. So all who see with prudent eyes The hand of Fate must recognize, For virtue rules, or love, or gain, As Fate's unchanged decrees ordain. Bali has died and won the meed That waits in heaven on noble deed, Throned in the seats the brave may reach By liberal hand and gentle speech, True to a warrior's duty, bold In fight, the hero lofty-souled Deigned not to guard his life: he died, And now in heaven is glorified. Then cease these tears and wild despair: Turn to the task that claims your care, For Bali's is the glorious fate Which warriors count most fortunate."

Thus to the gathered lords he spoke; But no reply the silence broke. Then with a sterner voice he cried: "O chiefs, the nation's boast and pride, Whom valour strength and power adorn, Of most illustrious lineage born, Where'er you will you force a way, And none your rapid course can stay. Now come, your several powers declare. And who this desperate leap will dare?"

As shine the heavens with autumn's moon Refulgent in the height of noon, So shone with light which Rama gave That army of the bold and brave, As from the sea it marched away In war's magnificent array, And earth was shaken by the beat And trampling of unnumbered feet. Then to the giants' ears were borne, The mingled notes of drum and horn, And clash of tambours smote the sky, And shouting and the battle cry. The sound of martial strains inspired Each chieftain, and his bosom fired: While giants from their walls replied, And answering shouts the foe defied, Then Rama looked on Lanka where Bright banners floated in the air, And, pierced with anguish at the view, His loving thoughts to Sita flew. "There, prisoned by the giant, lies My lady of the tender eyes, Like Rohini the queen of stars O'erpowered by the fiery Mars." Then turned he to his brother chief And cried in agony of grief: "See on the hill, divinely planned And built by Visvakarma's hand, The towers and domes of Lanka rise In peerless beauty to the skies. Bright from afar the city shines With gleam of palaces and shrines, Like pale clouds through the region spread By Vishnu's self inhabited. Fair gardens grow, and woods between The stately domes are fresh and green, Where trees their bloom and fruit display, And sweet birds sing on every spray. Each bird is mad with joy, and bees Sing labouring in the bloomy trees On branches by the breezes bowed, Where the gay Koil's voice is loud."

The wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high, Dark clouds of dust involved the sky. In doleful twitter long sustained The restless Sarikas(462) complained, And from the heavens with flash and flame Terrific meteors roaring came. Earth to her deep foundation shook With rock and tree and plain and brook, As Khara with triumphant shout, Borne in his chariot, sallied out. His left arm throbbed: he knew full well That omen, and his visage fell. Each awful sign the giant viewed, And sudden tears his eye bedewed. Care on his brow sat chill and black, Yet mad with wrath he turned not back. Upon each fearful sight that raised The shuddering hair the chieftain gazed, And laughing in his senseless pride Thus to his giant legions cried: "By sense of mightiest strength upborne, These feeble signs I laugh to scorn. I could bring down the stars that shine In heaven with these keen shafts of mine. Impelled by warlike fury I Could cause e'en Death himself to die. I will not seek my home again Until my pointed shafts have slain This Raghu's son so fierce in pride, And Lakshman by his brother's side. And she, my sister, she for whom These sons of Raghu meet their doom, She with delighted lips shall drain The lifeblood of her foemen slain. Fear not for me: I ne'er have known Defeat, in battle overthrown. Fear not for me, O giants; true Are the proud words I speak to you. The king of Gods who rules on high, If wild Airavat bore him nigh, Should fall before me bolt in hand: And shall these two my wrath withstand!"

Thus like a helpless mourner, bent By sorrow, Rama made lament; And with wise counsel Lakshman tried To soothe his care, and thus replied: "O best of men, thy grief oppose, Nor sink beneath thy weight of woes. Not thus despond the great and pure And brave like thee, but still endure. Reflect what anguish wrings the heart When loving souls are forced to part; And, mindful of the coming pain, Thy love within thy breast restrain. For earth, though cooled by wandering streams, Lies scorched beneath the midday beams. Ravan his steps to hell may bend, Or lower yet in flight descend; But be thou sure, O Raghu's son, Avenging death he shall not shun. Rise, Rama, rise: the search begin, And track the giant foul with sin. Then shall the fiend, though far he fly, Resign his prey or surely die. Yea, though the trembling monster hide With Sita close to Diti's(535) side, E'en there, unless he yield the prize, Slain by this wrathful hand he dies. Thy heart with strength and courage stay, And cast this weakling mood away. Our fainting hopes in vain revive Unless with firm resolve we strive. The zeal that fires the toiler's breast Mid earthly powers is first and best. Zeal every check and bar defies, And wins at length the loftiest prize, In woe and danger, toil and care, Zeal never yields to weak despair. With zealous heart thy task begin, And thou once more thy spouse shalt win. Cast fruitless sorrow from thy soul, Nor let this love thy heart control. Forget not all thy sacred lore, But be thy noble self once more."

Then Durmukh cried, of Rakshas race: "Too long we brook the dire disgrace. He gave our city to the flames, He trod the chambers of thy dames. Ne'er shall so weak and vile a thing Unpunished brave the giants' king. Now shall this single arm attack And drive the daring Vanars back, Till to the winds of heaven they flee, Or seek the depths of earth and sea."

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."

This said, he ranged with warlike art Each body of the host apart. "There in the centre," Rama cried, "Be Angad's place by Nila's side. Let Rishabh of impetuous might Be lord and leader on the right, And Gandhamadan, next in rank, Be captain of the farther flank. Lakshman and I the hosts will lead, And Jambavan of ursine breed, With bold Sushen unused to fear, And Vegadarsi, guide the rear."

Forth went the seven in brave attire, In glory brilliant as the fire, Impetuous chiefs with massive bows, The quellers of a host of foes: Trained from their youth in martial lore, And masters of the arms they bore: Each emulous and fiercely bold, And banners wrought with glittering gold Waved o'er their chariots, drawn at speed By coursers of the noblest breed. On through the ruins of the grove At Hanuman they fiercely drove, And from the ponderous bows they strained A shower of deadly arrows rained. Then scarce was seen the Vanar's form Enveloped in the arrowy storm. So stands half veiled the Mountains' King When rainy clouds about him cling. By nimble turn, by rapid bound He shunned the shafts that rained around, Eluding, as in air he rose, The rushing chariots of his foes. The mighty Vanar undismayed Amid his archer foemen played, As plays the frolic wind on high Mid bow-armed(876) clouds that fill the sky. He raised a mighty roar and yell That fear on all the army fell, And then, his warrior soul aglow With fury, rushed upon the foe, Some with his open hand he beat To death and trampled with his feet; Some with fierce nails he rent and slew, And others with his fists o'erthrew; Some with his legs, as on he rushed, Some with his bulky chest he crushed; While some struck senseless by his roar Dropped on the ground and breathed no more, The remnant, seized with sudden dread, Turned from the grove and wildly fled. The trampled earth was thickly strown With steed and car and flag o'erthrown, And the red blood in rivers flowed From slaughtered fiends o'er path and road.

"Brave Rama, eldest born, who springs, From Dasaratha, hither brings His wife the lady Sita: he Would fain the holy hermit see. Lakshman am I--if happy fame E'er to thine ears has brought the name-- His younger brother, prompt to do His will, devoted, fond, and true. We, through our royal sire's decree, To the dread woods were forced to flee. Tell the great Master, I entreat, Our earnest wish our lord to greet."

"As to the saint I thus complained My bitter tears fell unrestrained. He pondered for a while, then broke The silence, and thus calmly spoke: "Forth from thy sides again shall spring, O royal bird, each withered wing, And all thine ancient power and might Return to thee with strength of sight. A noble deed has been foretold In prophecy pronounced of old: Nor dark to me are future things, Seen by the light which penance brings. A glorious king shall rise and reign, The pride of old Ikshvaku's strain. A good and valiant prince, his heir, Shall the dear name of Rama bear. With his brave brother Lakshman he An exile in the woods shall be, Where Ravan, whom no God may slay,(777) Shall steal his darling wife away. In vain the captive will be wooed With proffered love and dainty food, She will not hear, she will not taste: But, lest her beauty wane and waste, Lord Indra's self will come to her With heavenly food, and minister. Then envoys of the Vanar race By Rama sent will seek this place. To them, O roamer of the air, The lady's fate shalt thou declare. Thou must not move--so maimed thou art Thou canst not from this spot depart. Await the day and moment due, And thy burnt wings will sprout anew. I might this day the boon bestow And bid again thy pinions grow, But wait until thy saving deed The nations from their fear have freed. Then for this glorious aid of thine The princes of Ikshvaku's line, And Gods above and saints below Eternal gratitude shall owe. Fain would mine aged eyes behold That pair of whom my lips have told, Yet wearied here I must not stay, But leave my frame and pass away."

Then Jambumali, pride and boast For valour of the Rakshas host, Prahasta's son supremely brave, Obeyed the hest that Ravan gave: Fierce warrior with terrific teeth, With saguine robes and brilliant wreath. A bow like Indra's own(874), and store Of glittering shafts the chieftain bore. And ever as the string he tried The weapon with a roar replied, Loud as the crashing thunder sent By him who rules the firmament. Soon as the foeman came in view Borne on a car which asses drew, The Vanar chieftain mighty-voiced Shouted in triumph and rejoiced. Prahasta's son his bow-string drew, And swift the winged arrows flew, One in the face the Vanar smote, Another quivered in his throat. Ten from the deadly weapon sent His brawny arms and shoulders rent. Then as he felt each galling shot The Vanar's rage waxed fiercely hot. He looked, and saw a mass of stone That lay before his feet o'erthrown. The mighty block he raised and threw, And crashing through the air it flew. But Jambumali shunned the blow, And rained fresh arrows from his bow. The Vanar's limbs were red with gore: A Sal tree from the earth he tore, And, ere he hurled it undismayed, Above his head the missile swayed. But shafts from Jambumali's bow Cut through it ere his hand could throw. And thigh and arm and chest and side With streams of rushing blood were dyed. Still unsubdued though wounded oft The shattered trunk he raised aloft, And down with well-directed aim On Jambumali's chest it came. There crushed upon the trampled grass He lay an undistinguished mass, The foeman's eye no more could see His head or chest or arm or knee. And bow and car and steeds(875) and store Of glittering shafts were seen no more.

As through the air the body flew, Some blood-drops, caught by gales that blew, Welled from his shattered jaw and fell By Saint Matanga's hermit cell: Matanga saw, illustrious sage, Those drops defile his hermitage, And, as he marvelled whence they came, Fierce anger filled his soul with flame: "Who is the villain, evil-souled, With childish thoughts unwise and bold, Who is the impious wretch," he cried, "By whom my grove with blood is dyed?"

Then Rama's eyes with fury blazed As Indra's heavenly spear he raised. Loud rang the bells: the glistering head Bright flashes through the region shed. Down came the spear in swift descent: The giant's lance was crushed and bent. Then Ravan's horses brave and fleet Fell dead beneath his arrowy sleet. Fierce on his foeman Rama pressed, And gored with shafts his mighty breast. And spouting streams of crimson dyed The weary giant's limbs and side.

When Rama saw the vulture lie, Huge as a hill, with darksome eye, With many a poignant woe distressed His brother chief he thus addressed: "Amid these haunted shades content Full many a year this bird has spent. His life in home of giants passed, In Dandak wood he dies at last. The years in lengthened course have fled Untroubled o'er the vulture's head, And now he lies in death, for none The stern decrees of Fate may shun. See, Lakshman, how the vulture fell While for my sake he battled well. And strove to free with onset bold My Sita from the giant's hold. Supreme amid the vulture kind His ancient rule the bird resigned, And conquered in the fruitless strife Gave for my sake his noble life. O Lakshman, many a time we see Great souls who keep the law's decree, With whom the weak sure refuge find, In creatures of inferior kind. The loss of her, my darling queen, Strikes with a pang less fiercely keen Than now this slaughtered bird to see Who nobly fought and died for me. As Dasaratha, good and great, Was glorious in his high estate, Honoured by all, to all endeared, So was this royal bird revered. Bring fuel for the funeral rite: These hands the solemn fire shall light And on the burning pyre shall lay The bird who died for me to-day. Now on the gathered wood shall lie The lord of all the birds that fly, And I will burn with honours due My champion whom the giant slew. O royal bird of noblest heart, Graced with all funeral rites depart To bright celestial seats above, Rewarded for thy faithful love. Dwell in thy happy home with those Whose constant fires of worship rose. Live blest amid the unyielding brave, And those who land in largess gave."

Then when they saw their leader slain Great anguish seized the Vanar train, Weeping their mighty chief, as when In pastures near a lion's den The cows by sudden fear are stirred, Slain the bold bull who led the herd. And hapless Tara sank below The whelming waters of her woe, Looked upon Bali's face and fell Beside him whom she loved go well, Like a young creeper clinging round A tall tree prostrate on the ground.

That night the son of Raghu lay On Ganga's bank till break of day: Then with the earliest light he woke And thus to brave Satrughna spoke. "Rise up, Satrughna, from thy bed: Why sleepest thou the night is fled. See how the sun who chases night Wakes every lotus with his light. Arise, arise, and first of all The lord of Sringavera call, For he his friendly aid will lend Our army o'er the flood to send."

He gathered next a chosen band For service in the southern land. He summoned Nila son of Fire, And, offspring of the eternal Sire, Jambavan bold and strong and tall, And Hanuman, the best of all, And many a valiant lord beside,(689) With Angad for their chief and guide. "Go forth," he cried, "with all this host Exploring to the southern coast: The thousand peaks that Vindhya shows Where every tree and creeper grows: Where Narmada's(690) sweet waters run, And serpents bask them in the sun: Where Krishnaveni's(691) currents flee, And sparkles fair Godavari.(692) Through Mekhal(693) pass and Utkal's(694) land: Go where Dasarna's(695) cities stand. Avanti(696) seek, of high renown, And Abravanti's(697) glorious town. Search every hill and brook and cave Where Dandak's woods their branches wave Ayomukh's(698) woody hill explore Whose sides are bright with richest ore, Lifting his glorious head on high From bloomy groves that round him lie. Search well his forests where the breeze Blows fragrant from the sandal trees. Then will you see Kaveri's(699) stream Whose pleasant waters glance and gleam, And to the lovely banks entice The sportive maids of Paradise. High on the top of Malaya's(700) hill, In holy musing, calm and still, Sits, radiant as the Lord of Light, Agastya,(701) noblest anchorite. Soon as that lofty-thoughted lord His high permission shall accord, Pass Tamraparni's(702) flood whose isles Are loved by basking crocodiles. The sandal woods that fringe her side Those islets and her waters hide; While, like an amorous matron, she Speeds to her own dear lord the sea. Thence hasting on your way behold The Pandyas'(703) gates of pearl and gold. Then, with your task maturely planned, On ocean's shore your feet will stand. Where, by Agastya's high decree, Mahendra,(704) planted in the sea, With tinted peaks against the tide Rises in solitary pride, And glorious in his golden glow Spurns back the waves that beat below.

When Angad saw the chieftains fly He called them with a mighty cry: "Once more, O Vanars, charge once more, On to the battle as before. In all her compass earth has not, To hide you safe, one secret spot. What! leave your arms? each nobler dame Will scorn her consort for the shame. This blot upon your names efface, And keep your valour from disgrace. Stay, chieftains; wherefore will ye run, A band of warriors scared by one?"

King Dasaratha thus addressed His lips to Rama's forehead pressed, And held him to his aged breast. Rejoiced in sooth was he to know That Bhrigu's son had parted so, And hailed a second life begun For him and his victorious son. He urged the host to speed renewed, And soon Ayodhya's gates he viewed. High o'er the roofs gay pennons played; Tabour and drum loud music made; Fresh water cooled the royal road, And flowers in bright profusion glowed. Glad crowds with garlands thronged the ways Rejoicing on their king to gaze And all the town was bright and gay Exalting in the festive day. People and Brahmans flocked to meet Their monarch ere he gained the street. The glorious king amid the throng Rode with his glorious sons along, And passed within his dear abode That like Himalaya's mountain showed. And there Kausalya, noble queen, Sumitra with her lovely mien, Kaikeyi of the dainty waist, And other dames his bowers who graced, Stood in the palace side by side And welcomed home each youthful bride: Fair Sita, lofty-fated dame, Urmila of the glorious fame, And Kusadhwaj's children fair, With joyous greeting and with prayer, As all in linen robes arrayed With offerings at the altars prayed. Due reverence paid to God above, Each princess gave her soul to love, And hidden in her inmost bower Passed with her lord each blissful hour. The royal youths, of spirit high, With whom in valor none could vie, Lived each within his palace bounds Bright as Kuvera's pleasure-grounds, With riches, troops of faithful friends, And bliss that wedded life attends: Brave princes trained in warlike skill, And duteous to their father's will. At length the monarch called one morn Prince Bharat, of Kaikeyi born, And cried: "My son, within our gates Lord Yudhajit thine uncle waits. The son of Kekaya's king is he, And came, my child, to summon thee."

He, banished by his angry sire, Roams with his wife in mean attire. This wretch, his Warrior tribe's disgrace Has slain the best of giant race. Harsh, wicked, fierce and greedy-souled, A fool, with senses uncontrolled, No thought of duty stirs his breast: He joys to see the world distressed. He sought the wood with fair pretence Of truthful life and innocence, But his false hand my sister left Mangled, of nose and ears bereft. This Rama's wife who bears the name Of Sita, in her face and frame Fair as a daughter of the skies,-- Her will I seize and bring the prize Triumphant from the forest shade: For this I seek thy willing aid. If thou, O mighty one, wilt lend Thy help and stand beside thy friend, I with my brothers may defy All Gods embattled in the sky. Come, aid me now, for thine the power To succour in the doubtful hour. Thou art in war and time of fear, For heart and hand, without a peer. For thou art skilled in art and wile, A warrior brave and trained in guile. With this one hope, this only aim, O Rover of the Night, I came. Now let me tell what aid I ask To back me in my purposed task. In semblance of a golden deer Adorned with silver spots appear. Go, seek his dwelling: in the way Of Rama and his consort stray. Doubt not the lady, when she sees The wondrous deer amid the trees, Will bid her lord and Lakshman take The creature for its beauty's sake. Then when the chiefs have parted thence, And left her lone, without defence, As Rahu storms the moonlight, I Will seize the lovely dame and fly. Her lord will waste away and weep For her his valour could not keep. Then boldly will I strike the blow And wreak my vengeance on the foe."

"This vilest of the giant race Will draw us to his side apace. Come, rouse thee; let the vengeful sword Smite off his arms, my honoured lord. This awful giant, vast of size, On his huge strength of arm relies, And o'er the world victorious, thus With mighty force would slaughter us. But in cold blood to slay, O King, Discredit on the brave would bring, As when some victim in the rite Shuns not the hand upraised to smite."

He ceased: and Hanuman of all The Vanars in the council hall In wisdom first, and rank, expressed The thoughts that filled his prudent breast: "No marvel thou rememberest yet The service thou shouldst ne'er forget, How the brave prince of Raghu's seed Thy days from fear and peril freed; And Bali for thy sake o'erthrew, Whom Indra's self might scarce subdue. I doubt not Rama's anger burns For the scant love thy heart returns. For this he sends his brother, him Whose glory never waxes dim. Sunk in repose thy careless eye Marks not the seasons as they fly, Nor sees that autumn has begun With dark blooms opening to the sun. Clear is the sky: no cloudlet mars The splendour of the shining stars. The balmy air is soft and still, And clear and bright are lake and rill. Thou heedest not with blinded eyes The hour for warlike enterprise. Hence Lakshman hither comes to break Thy slothful trance and bid thee wake. Then, Monarch, with a patient ear The high-souled Rama's message hear, Which, reft of wife and realm and friends, Thus by another's mouth he sends. Thou, Vanar King, hast done amiss: And now I see no way but this: Before his envoy humbly stand And sue for peace with suppliant hand. High duty bids a courtier seek His master's weal, and freely speak. So by no thought of fear controlled My speech, O King, is free and bold, For Rama, if his anger glow, Can, with the terrors of his bow This earth with all the Gods subdue, Gandharvas,(635) and the demon crew. Unwise to stir his wrathful mood Whose favour must again be wooed. And, most of all, unwise for one Grateful like thee for service done. Go with thy son and kinsmen: bend Thy humble head and greet thy friend. And, like a fond obedient spouse, Be faithful to thy plighted vows."

He ceased: and Rama knew his foe, And laid an arrow on his bow: "Woe to the wretch," he cried, "whom fate Abandons to my deadly hate." He spoke, and, firm by Lakshman's side, The giant to the fray defied. The lord of Lanka bade his train Of warriors by the gates remain, To guard the city from surprise By Rama's forest born allies. Then as some monster of the sea Cleaves swift-advancing billows, he Charged with impetuous onset through The foe, and cleft the host in two. Sugriva ran, the king to meet: A hill uprooted from its seat He hurled, with trees that graced the height Against the rover of the night: But cleft with shafts that checked its way Harmless upon the earth it lay. Then fiercer Ravan's fury grew, An arrow from his side he drew, Swift as a thunderbolt, aglow With fire, and launched it at the foe. Through flesh and bone a way it found, And stretched Sugriva on the ground. Sushen and Nala saw him fall, Gavaksha, Gavaya heard their call, And, poising hills, in act to fling They charged amain the giant king. They charged, they hurled the hills in vain, He checked them with his arrowy rain, And every brave assailant felt The piercing wounds his missiles dealt, Then smitten by the shafts that came Keen, fleet, and thick, with certain aim, They fled to Rama, sure defence Against the oppressor's violence, Then, reverent palm to palm applied, Thus Lakshman to his brother cried: "To me, my lord, the task entrust To lay this giant in the dust." "Go, then," said Rama, "bravely fight; Beat down this rover of the night. But he, unmatched in bold emprise, Fears not the Lord of earth and skies, Keep on thy guard: with keenest eye Thy moments of attack espy. Let hand and eye in due accord Protect thee with the bow and sword."

He ceased: they scorned, with blinded eyes, The foeman and his bold allies, Raised reverent hands with one accord, And thus made answer to their lord: "Why yield thee, King, to causeless fear? A mighty host with sword and spear And mace and axe and pike and lance Waits but thy signal to advance. Art thou not he who slew of old The Serpent-Gods, and stormed their hold; Scaled Mount Kailasa and o'erthrew Kuvera(910) and his Yaksha crew, Compelling Siva's haughty friend Beneath a mightier arm to bend? Didst thou not bring from realms afar The marvel of the magic car, When they who served Kuvera fell Crushed in their mountain citadel? Attracted by thy matchless fame To thee, a suppliant, Maya came, The lord of every Danav band, And won thee with his daughter's hand. Thy arm in hell itself was felt, Where Vasuki(911) and Sankha dwelt, And they and Takshak, overthrown, Were forced thy conquering might to own. The Gods in vain their blessing gave To heroes bravest of the brave, Who strove a year and, sorely pressed, Their victor's peerless might confessed. In vain their magic arts they tried, In vain thy matchless arm defied King Varun's sons with fourfold force, Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse, But for a while thy power withstood, And, conquered, mourned their hardihood. Thou hast encountered, face to face, King Yama(912) with his murdering mace. Fierce as the wild tempestuous sea, What terror had his wrath for thee, Though death in every threatening form, And woe and torment, urged the storm? Thine arm a glorious victory won O'er the dread king who pities none; And the three worlds, from terror freed, In joyful wonder praised thy deed. The tribe of Warriors, strong and dread As Indra's self, o'er earth had spread; As giant trees that towering stand In mountain glens, they filled the land. Can Raghu's son encounter foes Fierce, numerous, and strong as those?

When Rama saw each bloody trace On King Sugriva's limbs and face, He cried, while, sorrowing at the view, His arms about his friend he threw: "Too venturous chieftain, kings like us Bring not their lives in peril thus; Nor, save when counsel shows the need, Attempt so bold, so rash a deed. Remember, I, Vibhishan all Have sorrowed fearing for thy fall. O do not--for us all I speak-- These desperate adventures seek." "I could not," cried Sugriva, "brook Upon the giant king to look, Nor challenge to the deadly strife The fiend who robbed thee of thy wife." "Now Lakshman, marshal," Rama cried, "Our legions where the woods are wide, And stand we ready to oppose The fury of our giant foes. This day our armies shall ascend The walls which Ravan's powers defend, And floods of Rakshas blood shall stain The streets encumbered with the slain." Down from the peak he came, and viewed The Vanars' ordered multitude. Each captain there for battle burned, Each fiery eye to Lanka turned. On, where the royal brothers led To Lanka's walls the legions sped. The northern gate, where giant foes Swarmed round their monarch, Rama chose Where he in person might direct The battle, and his troops protect. What arm but his the post might keep Where, strong as he who sways the deep,(949) Mid thousands armed with bow and mace, Stood Ravan mightiest of his race? The eastern gate was Nila's post, Where marshalled stood his Vanar host, And Mainda with his troops arrayed, And Dwivid stood to lend him aid. The southern gate was Angad's care, Who ranged his bold battalions there. Hanuman by the port that faced The setting sun his legions placed, And King Sugriva held the wood East of the gate where Ravan stood. On every side the myriads met, And Lanka's walls of close beset That scarce the roving gale could win A passage to the hosts within.

Then all the princes, lofty-souled, Of wondrous vigour, strong and bold, Saw Vasudeva(190) standing there In Kapil's form he loved to wear, And near the everlasting God The victim charger cropped the sod. They saw with joy and eager eyes The fancied robber and the prize, And on him rushed the furious band Crying aloud, Stand, villain! stand! "Avaunt! avaunt!" great Kapil cried, His bosom flusht with passion's tide; Then by his might that proud array All scorcht to heaps of ashes lay.(191)

Then round the sage the lady went, And bade farewell, most reverent. Back to her home she turned once more, And there her promised son she bore. Because her rival mixed the bane To render her conception vain, And her unripened fruit destroy, Sagar she called her rescued boy.(391) He, when he paid that solemn rite,(392) Filled living creatures with affright: Obedient to his high decree His countless sons dug out the sea. Prince Asamanj was Sagar's child: But him with cruel sin defiled And loaded with the people's hate His father banished from the state. To Asamanj his consort bare Bright Ansuman his valiant heir. Ansuman's son, Dilipa famed, Begot a son Bhagirath named. From him renowned Kakutstha came: Thou bearest still the lineal name. Kakutstha's son was Raghu: thou Art styled the son of Raghu now. From him came Purushadak bold, Fierce hero of gigantic mould: Kalmashapada's name he bore, Because his feet were spotted o'er. Sankhan his son, to manhood grown, Died sadly with his host o'erthrown, But ere he perished sprang from him Sudarsan fair in face and limb. From beautiful Sudarsan came Prince Agnivarna, bright as flame. His son was Sighraga, for speed Unmatched; and Maru was his seed. Prasusruka was Maru's child: His son was Ambarisha styled. Nahush was Ambarisha's heir With hand to strike and heart to dare. His son was good Nabhag, from youth Renowned for piety and truth. From great Nabhag sprang children two Aja and Suvrat pure and true. From Aja Dasaratha came, Whose virtuous life was free from blame. His eldest son art thou: his throne, O famous Rama, is thine own. Accept the sway so justly thine, And view the world with eyes benign. For ever in Ikshvaku's race The eldest takes his father's place, And while he lives no son beside As lord and king is sanctified. The rule by Raghu's children kept Thou must not spurn to-day. This realm of peerless wealth accept, And like thy father sway."

Then as the chiefs their search pursued Throughout the dreary solitude, They heard amazed a mighty sound That broke the very trees around, As though a furious tempest passed Crushing the wood beneath its blast. Then Rama raised his trusty sword, And both the hidden cause explored. There stood before their wondering eyes A fiend broad-chested, huge of size. A vast misshapen trunk they saw In height surpassing nature's law. It stood before them dire and dread Without a neck, without a head. Tall as some hill aloft in air, Its limbs were clothed with bristling hair, And deep below the monster's waist His vast misshapen mouth was placed. His form was huge, his voice was loud As some dark-tinted thunder cloud. Forth from his ample chest there came A brilliance as of gushing flame. Beneath long lashes, dark and keen The monster's single eye was seen. Deep in his chest, long, fiercely bright, It glittered with terrific light. He swallowed down his savage fare Of lion, bird, and slaughtered bear, And with huge teeth exposed to view O'er his great lips his tongue he drew. His arms unshapely, vast and dread, A league in length, he raised and spread. He seized with monstrous hands a herd Of deer and many a bear and bird. Among them all he picked and chose, Drew forward these, rejected those. Before the princely pair he stood Barring their passage through the wood. A league of shade the chiefs had passed When on the fiend their eyes they cast. A monstrous shape without a head With mighty arms before him spread, They saw that hideous trunk appear That struck the trembling eye with fear. Then, stretching to their full extent His awful arms with fingers bent, Round Raghu's princely sons he cast Each grasping limb and held them fast. Though strong of arm and fierce in fight, Each armed with bow and sword to smite, The royal brothers, brave and bold, Were helpless in the giant's hold.

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."

Forth went the legions of the west: And wise Sugriva addressed Satabal, summoned from the crowd. To whom the sovereign cried aloud: "Go forth, O Vanar chief, go forth, Explore the regions of the north. Thy host a hundred thousand be, And Yama's sons(733) attend on thee. With dauntless courage, strength, and skill Search every river, wood, and hill. Through every land in order go Right onward to the Hills of Snow. Search mid the peaks that shine afar, In woods of Lodh and Deodar.(734) Search if with Janak's daughter, screened By sheltering rocks, there lie the fiend. The holy grounds of Soma tread By Gods and minstrels visited. Reach Kala's mount, and flats that lie Among the peaks that tower on high. Then leave that hill that gleams with ore, And fair Sudarsan's heights explore. Then on to Devasakha(735) hie, Loved by the children of the sky. A dreary land you then will see Without a hill or brook or tree, A hundred leagues, bare, wild, and dread In lifeless desolation, spread. Pursue your onward way, and haste Through the dire horrors of the waste Until triumphant with delight You reach Kailasa's glittering height. There stands a palace decked with gold, For King Kuvera(736) wrought of old, A home the heavenly artist planned And fashioned with his cunning hand. There lotuses adorn the flood With full-blown flower and opening bud Where swans and mallards float, and gay Apsarases(737) come down to play. There King Vaisravan's(738) self, the lord By all the universe adored, Who golden gifts to mortals sends, Lives with the Guhyakas(739) his friends. Search every cavern in the steep, And green glens where the moonbeams sleep, If haply in that distant ground The robber and the dame be found. Then on to Krauncha's hill,(740) and through His fearful pass your way pursue: Though dark and terrible the vale Your wonted courage must not fail. There through abyss and cavern seek, On lofty ridge, and mountain peak, On, on!

Angad and Tara by his side, Again rose Hanuman and tried Each mountain cavern, dark and deep, And stony pass and wooded steep, The lion's and the tiger's home, By rushing torrents white with foam. Then with new ardour, south and west, O'er Vindhya's height the search they pressed. The day prescribed was near and they Still wandered on their weary way. They reached the southern land beset With woody mountains like a net. At length a mighty cave they spied That opened in a mountain's side. Where many a verdant creeper grew And o'er the mouth its tendrils threw. Thence issued crane, and swan, and drake, And trooping birds that love the lake. The Vanars rushed within to cool Their fevered lips in spring or pool. Vast was the cavern dark and dread, Where not a ray of light was shed; Yet not the more their eyesight failed, Their courage sank or valour quailed. On through the gloom the Vanars pressed With hunger, thirst, and toil distressed, Poor helpless wanderers, sad, forlorn, With wasted faces wan and worn. At length, when life seemed lost for aye, They saw a splendour as of day, A wondrous forest, fair and bright, Where golden trees shot flamy light. And lotus-covered pools were there With pleasant waters fresh and fair, And streams their rippling currents rolled By seats of silver and of gold. Fair houses reared their stately height Of burnished gold and lazulite, And glorious was the lustre thrown Through lattices of precious stone. And there were flowers and fruit on stems Of coral decked with rarest gems, And emerald leaves on silver trees, And honeycomb and golden bees. Then as the Vanars nearer drew, A holy woman met their view, Around her form was duly tied A garment of the blackdeer's hide.(751) Pure votaress she shone with light Of fervent zeal and holy rite. Then Hanuman before the rest With reverent words the dame addressed: "Who art thou? say: and who is lord Of this vast cave with treasures stored?"

Then rose the Vanar chiefs, and lent Their arms to aid the bird's descent; And Angad spake: "There lived of yore A noble Vanar king who bore The name of Riksharajas, great And brave and strong and fortunate. His sons were like their father: fame Knows Bali and Sugriva's name. Praised in all lands, a glorious king Was Bali, and from him I spring. Brave Rama, Dasaratha's heir, A glorious prince beyond compare, His sire and duty's law obeyed, And sought the depths of Dandak' shade Sita his well-beloved dame, And Lakshman, with the wanderer came. A giant watched his hour, and stole The sweet delight of Rama's soul. Jatayus, Dasaratha's friend, Swift succour to the dame would lend. Fierce Ravan from his car he felled, And for a time the prize withheld. But bleeding, weak with years, and tired, Beneath the demon's blows expired, Due rites at Rama's hands obtained, And bliss that ne'er shall minish, gained. Then Rama with Sugriva made A covenant for mutual aid, And Bali, to the field defied, By conquering Rama's arrow died. Sugriva then, by Rama's grace, Was monarch of the Vanar race. By his command a mighty host Seeks Rama's queen from coast to coast. Sent forth by him, in every spot We looked for her, but find her not. Vain is the toil, as though by night We sought to find the Day-God's light. In lands unknown at length we found A spacious cavern under ground, Whose vaults that stretch beneath the hill Were formed by Maya's magic skill. Through the dark maze our steps were bent, And wandering there a month we spent, And lost, in fruitless error, thus The days our king allotted us. Thus we though faithful have transgressed, And failed to keep our lord's behest. No chance of safety can we see, No lingering hope of life have we. Sugriva's wrath and Rama's hate Press on our souls with grievous weight: And we, because 'tis vain to fly, Resolve at length to fast and die."

"O hermits, blest in vows, who shine Like royal saints or Gods divine, O best of young ascetics, say How to this spot you found your way, Scaring the troops of wandering deer And silvan things that harbour here Searching amid the trees that grow Where Pampa's gentle waters flow. And lending from your brows a gleam Of glory to the lovely stream. Who are you, say, so brave and fair, Clad in the bark which hermits wear? I see you heave the frequent sigh, I see the deer before you fly. While you, for strength and valour dread, The earth, like lordly lions, tread, Each bearing in his hand a bow, Like Indra's own, to slay the foe. With the grand paces of a bull, So bright and young and beautiful. The mighty arms you raise appear Like trunks which elephants uprear, And as you move this mountain-king(543) Is glorious with the light you bring. How have you reached, like Gods in face, Best lords of earth, this lonely place, With tresses coiled in hermit guise,(544) And splendours of those lotus eyes? As Gods who leave their heavenly sphere, Alike your beauteous forms appear. The Lords of Day and Night(545) might thus Stray from the skies to visit us. Heroic youth, so broad of chest, Fair with the beauty of the Blest, With lion shoulders, tall and strong, Like bulls who lead the lowing throng, Your arms, unmatched for grace and length, With massive clubs may vie in strength. Why do no gauds those limbs adorn Where priceless gems were meetly worn? Each noble youth is fit, I deem, To guard this earth, as lord supreme, With all her woods and seas, to reign From Meru's peak to Vindhya's chain. Your smooth bows decked with dyes and gold Are glorious in their masters' hold, And with the arms of Indra(546) vie Which diamond splendours beautify. Your quivers glow with golden sheen, Well stored with arrows fleet and keen, Each gleaming like a fiery snake That joys the foeman's life to take.

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."

Thus spake the king with many a tear; Then to his wife he cried in fear: "I cannot see thee, love; but lay Thy gentle hand in mine, I pray. Ah me, if Rama touched me thus, If once, returning home to us, He bade me wealth and lordship give, Then, so I think, my soul would live. Unlike myself, unjust and mean Have been my ways with him, my Queen, But like himself is all that he, My noble son, has done to me. His son, though far from right he stray, What prudent sire would cast away? What banished son would check his ire, Nor speak reproaches of his sire? I see thee not: these eyes grow blind, And memory quits my troubled mind. Angels of Death are round me: they Summon my soul with speed away. What woe more grievous can there be, That, when from light and life I flee, I may not, ere I part, behold My virtuous Rama, true and bold? Grief for my son, the brave and true, Whose joy it was my will to do, Dries up my breath, as summer dries The last drop in the pool that lies. Not men, but blessed Gods, are they Whose eyes shall see his face that day; See him, when fourteen years are past, With earrings decked return at last. My fainting mind forgets to think: Low and more low my spirits sink. Each from its seat, my senses steal: I cannot hear, or taste, or feel. This lethargy of soul o'ercomes Each organ, and its function numbs: So when the oil begins to fail, The torch's rays grow faint and pale. This flood of woe caused by this hand Destroys me helpless and unmanned, Resistless as the floods that bore A passage through the river shore. Ah Raghu's son, ah mighty-armed, By whom my cares were soothed and charmed, My son in whom I took delight, Now vanished from thy father's sight! Kausalya, ah, I cannot see; Sumitra, gentle devotee! Alas, Kaikeyi, cruel dame, My bitter foe, thy father's shame!"

But when Sugriva saw her weep O'erwhelmed in sorrow's rushing deep, Swift through his bosom pierced the sting Of anguish for the fallen king. At the sad sight his eyes beheld A flood of bitter tears outwelled, And, with his bosom racked and rent, To Rama with his train he went. He came with faltering steps and slow Where Rama held his mighty bow And arrow like a venomed snake, And to the son of Raghu spake: "Well hast thou kept, O King, thy vow: The promised fruit is gathered now. But life is marred, my soul to-day Turns sickening from all joy away. For, while this queen laments and sighs Amid a mourning people's cries, And Angad weeps his father slain, How can my heart delight to reign? For outrage, fury, senseless pride, My brother, doomed of yore, has died. Yet, Raghu's son, in bitter woe I mourn his fated overthrow. Ah, better far in pain and ill To dwell on Rishyamuka still Than gain the heaven of Gods and all Its pleasures by my brother's fall. Did not he cry,--great-hearted foe,-- "Go, for I will not slay thee, Go"? With his brave soul those words agree: My speech, my deeds, are worthy me. How can a brother counterweigh His grievous loss with joys of sway, And see with dull unpitying eye So brave and good a brother die? His lofty soul was nobly blind: My death alas, he ne'er designed; But I, urged blindly on by hate, Sought with his life my rage to sate. He smote me with a splintered tree: I groaned aloud and turned to flee, From stern reproaches he forbore, And gently bade me sin no more. Serene and dutiful and good He kept the laws of brotherhood: I, fierce and greedy, vengeful, base, Showed all the vices of our race. Ah me, dear friend, my brother's fate Lays on my soul a crushing weight: A sin no heart should e'er conceive, But at the thought each soul should grieve: Sin such as Indra's when his blow Laid heavenly Visvarupa(610) low.

He ceased: and in the Vanars' view Forth from his side young pinions grew, And boundless rapture filled his breast As thus the chieftains he addressed: "Joy, joy! the pinions, which the Lord Of Day consumed, are now restored Through the dear grace & boundless might Of that illustrious anchorite. The fire of youth within me burns, And all my wonted strength returns. Onward, ye Vanars, toil strive, And you shall find the dame alive. Look on these new-found wings, and hence Be strong in surest confidence."

As Visvamitra, mighty sage, Was moved with this tempestuous rage, Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame, And fear upon the Immortals came. But Saint Vasishtha, wisest seer, Observant of his vows austere, Saw the whole world convulsed with dread, And thus unto the monarch said: "Thou, born of old Ikshvaku's seed, Art Justice' self in mortal weed. Constant and pious, blest by fate, The right thou must not violate. Thou, Raghu's son, so famous through The triple world as just and true, Perform thy bounden duty still, Nor stain thy race by deed of ill. If thou have sworn and now refuse Thou must thy store of merit lose. Then, Monarch, let thy Rama go, Nor fear for him the demon foe. The fiends shall have no power to hurt Him trained to war or inexpert, Nor vanquish him in battle field, For Kusik's son the youth will shield. He is incarnate Justice, he The best of men for bravery. Embodied love of penance drear, Among the wise without a peer. Full well he knows, great Kusik's son, The arms celestial, every one, Arms from the Gods themselves concealed, Far less to other men revealed. These arms to him, when earth he swayed, Mighty Krisasva, pleased, conveyed. Krisasva's sons they are indeed, Brought forth by Daksha's lovely seed,(146) Heralds of conquest, strong and bold, Brilliant, of semblance manifold. Jaya and Vijaya, most fair, And hundred splendid weapons bare. Of Jaya, glorious as the morn, First fifty noble sons were born, Boundless in size yet viewless too, They came the demons to subdue. And fifty children also came Of Vijaya the beauteous dame, Sanharas named, of mighty force, Hard to assail or check in course. Of these the hermit knows the use, And weapons new can he produce. All these the mighty saint will yield To Rama's hand, to own and wield; And armed with these, beyond a doubt Shall Rama put those fiends to rout. For Rama and the people's sake, For thine own good my counsel take, Nor seek, O King, with fond delay, The parting of thy son to stay."

There many a crown and chain they wove Of blooms from that Asoka grove, And in their graceful sport the two Fresh beauty o'er the mountain threw. The lover let his love survey Each pleasant spot that round them lay, Then turned they to their green retreat Where all was garnished, gay, and neat. By brotherly affection led, Sumitra's son to meet them sped, And showed the labours of the day Done while his brother was away. There lay ten black-deer duly slain With arrows pure of poison stain, Piled in a mighty heap to dry, With many another carcass nigh. And Lakshman's brother saw, o'erjoyed, The work that had his hands employed, Then to his consort thus he cried: "Now be the general gifts supplied." Then Sita, fairest beauty, placed The food for living things to taste, And set before the brothers meat And honey that the pair might eat. They ate the meal her hands supplied, Their lips with water purified: Then Janak's daughter sat at last And duly made her own repast. The other venison, to be dried, Piled up in heaps was set aside, And Rama told his wife to stay And drive the flocking crows away. Her husband saw her much distressed By one more bold than all the rest, Whose wings where'er he chose could fly, Now pierce the earth, now roam the sky. Then Rama laughed to see her stirred To anger by the plaguing bird: Proud of his love the beauteous dame With burning rage was all aflame. Now here, now there, again, again She chased the crow, but all in vain, Enraging her, so quick to strike With beak and wing and claw alike: Then how the proud lip quivered, how The dark frown marked her angry brow! When Rama saw her cheek aglow With passion, he rebuked the crow. But bold in impudence the bird, With no respect for Rama's word, Fearless again at Sita flew: Then Rama's wrath to fury grew. The hero of the mighty arm Spoke o'er a shaft the mystic charm, Laid the dire weapon on his bow And launched it at the shameless crow.

Thus Ravan his commandment gave To those eight giants strong and brave, So thinking in his foolish pride Against all dangers to provide. Then with his wounded heart aflame With love he thought upon the dame, And took with hasty steps the way To the fair chamber where she lay. He saw the gentle lady there Weighed down by woe too great to bear, Amid the throng of fiends who kept Their watch around her as she wept: A pinnace sinking neath the wave When mighty winds around her rave: A lonely herd-forsaken deer, When hungry dogs are pressing near. Within the bower the giant passed: Her mournful looks were downward cast. As there she lay with streaming eyes The giant bade the lady rise, And to the shrinking captive showed The glories of his rich abode, Where thousand women spent their days In palaces with gold ablaze; Where wandered birds of every sort, And jewels flashed in hall and court. Where noble pillars charmed the sight With diamond and lazulite, And others glorious to behold With ivory, crystal, silver, gold. There swelled on high the tambour's sound, And burnished ore was bright around He led the mournful lady where Resplendent gold adorned the stair, And showed each lattice fair to see With silver work and ivory: Showed his bright chambers, line on line, Adorned with nets of golden twine. Beyond he showed the Maithil dame His gardens bright as lightning's flame, And many a pool and lake he showed Where blooms of gayest colour glowed. Through all his home from view to view The lady sunk in grief he drew. Then trusting in her heart to wake Desire of all she saw, he spake: "Three hundred million giants, all Obedient to their master's call, Not counting young and weak and old, Serve me with spirits fierce and bold. A thousand culled from all of these Wait on the lord they long to please. This glorious power, this pomp and sway, Dear lady, at thy feet I lay: Yea, with my life I give the whole, O dearer than my life and soul.

-- Fair mountain, lovely with the flow Of Pampa's waves that glide below,-- Lord of the Vanars(520) just and true, Strong, very glorious, bright to view, Unmatched in counsel, firm and meek, Bound by each word his lips may speak, Good, splendid, mighty, bold and brave, Wise in each plan to guide and save. His brother, fired by lust of sway, Drove forth the prince in woods to stray. In all thy search for Sita he Thy ready friend and help will be. With him to aid thee in thy quest Dismiss all sorrow from thy breast. Time is a mighty power, and none His fixed decree can change or shun. So rich reward thy toil shall bless, And naught can stay thy sure success. Speed hence, O chief, without delay, To strong Sugriva take thy way. This hour thy footsteps onward bend, And make that mighty prince thy friend. With him before the attesting flame In solemn truth alliance frame. Nor wilt thou, if thy heart be wise, Sugriva, Vanar king, despise. Of boundless strength, all shapes he wears, He hearkens to a suppliant's prayers, And, grateful for each kindly deed, Will help and save in hour of need. And you, I ween, the power possess To aid his hopes and give redress. He, let his cause succeed or fail, Will help you, and you must prevail. A banished prince, in fear and woe He roams where Pampa's waters flow, True offspring of the Lord of Light Expelled by Bali's conquering might. Go, Raghu's son, that chieftain seek Who dwells on Rishyamuka's peak. Before the flame thy weapons cast And bind the bonds of friendship fast. For, prince of all the Vanar race, He in his wisdom knows each place Where dwell the fierce gigantic brood Who make the flesh of man their food. To him, O Raghu's son, to him Naught in the world is dark or dim, Where'er the mighty Day-God gleams Resplendent with a thousand beams. He over rocky height and hill, Through gloomy cave, by lake and rill, Will with his Vanars seek the prize, And tell thee where thy lady lies.

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

But when the solemn rite was o'er, And bold Sugriva reigned once more, The sons of Raghu sought the hill, Prasravan of the rushing rill, Where roamed the tiger and the deer, And lions raised their voice of fear; Thick set with trees of every kind, With trailing shrubs and plants entwined; Home of the ape and monkey, lair Of mountain cat and pard and bear. In cloudy gloom against the sky The sanctifying hills rose high. Pierced in their crest, a spacious cave To Raghu's sons a shelter gave. Then Rama, pure from every crime, In words well suited to the time To Lakshman spake, whose faithful zeal Watched humbly for his brother's weal: "I love this spacious cavern where There breathes a fresh and pleasant air. Brave brother, let us here remain Throughout the season of the rain. For in mine eyes this mountain crest Is above all, the loveliest. Where copper-hued and black and white Show the huge blocks that face the height; Where gleams the shine of varied ore, Where dark clouds hang and torrents roar; Where waving woods are fair to see, And creepers climb from tree to tree; Where the gay peacock's voice is shrill, And sweet birds carol on the hill; Where odorous breath is wafted far From Jessamine and Sinduvar;(617) And opening flowers of every hue Give wondrous beauty to the view. See, too, this pleasant water near Our cavern home is fresh and clear; And lilies gay with flower and bud Are glorious on the lovely flood. This cave that fares north and east Will shelter us till rain has ceased; And towering hills that rise behind Will screen us from the furious wind. Close by the cavern's portal lies And level stone of ample size And sable hue, a mighty block Long severed from the parent rock. Now let thine eye bent northward rest A while upon that mountain crest, High as a cloud that brings the rain, And dark as iron rent in twain. Look southward, brother, now and view A cloudy pile of paler hue Like Mount Kailasa's topmost height Where ores of every tint are bright.