Ramayana on The Divine

Then Rama paid the reverence due, And quickly to his home withdrew. He passed within, nor lingered there, But sought his mother's mansion, where The dame in linen robes arrayed Devoutly in the chapel prayed To Fortune's Queen, with utterance checked, That she her Rama would protect. There was Sumitra too, and there Was Lakshman led by loving care: And when the royal choice they knew Sita in haste was summoned too. Absorbed, with half-shut eyes, the queen Attended by the three was seen. She knew that Pushya's lucky hour Would raise her son to royal power, So fixed with bated breath each thought On God supreme, by all men sought. To her, as thus she knelt and prayed, Rama drew near, due reverence paid, And then to swell his mother's joy, Thus spoke her own beloved boy; "O mother dear, my sire's decree Entrusts the people's weal to me. To-morrow I, for so his will, Anointed king, the throne shall fill. The few last hours till night shall end Sita with me must fasting spend, For so my father has decreed, And holy priests with him agreed. What vows soever thou mayst deem My consecration's eve beseem, Do thou, sweet mother, for my sake And for beloved Sita's make."

Such was the speech Sumantra heard From them whom grief unfeigned had stirred. As fires of anguish burnt him through, Swift to the monarch's hall he drew, Past the eighth court; there met his sight, The sovereign in his palace bright, Still weeping for his son, forlorn, Pale, faint, and all with sorrow worn. As there he sat, Sumantra bent And did obeisance reverent, And to the king repeated o'er The message he from Rama bore. The monarch heard, and well-nigh brake His heart, but yet no word he spake: Fainting to earth he fell, and dumb, By grief for Rama overcome. Rang through the hall a startling cry, And women's arms were tossed on high, When, with his senses all astray, Upon the ground the monarch lay. Kausalya, with Sumitra's aid, Raised from the ground her lord dismayed: "Sire, of high fate," she cried, "O, why Dost thou no single word reply To Rama's messenger who brings News of his painful wanderings? The great injustice done, art thou Shame-stricken for thy conduct now? Rise up, and do thy part: bestow Comfort and help in this our woe. Speak freely, King; dismiss thy fear, For Queen Kaikeyi stands not near, Afraid of whom thou wouldst not seek Tidings of Rama: freely speak."

Thus each to other pledged and bound In solemn league new transport found, And bent upon his dear ally The gaze he ne'er could satisfy. "Friend of my soul art thou: we share Each other's joy, each other's care;" Thus in the bliss that thrilled his breast Sugriva Raghu's son addressed. From a high Sal a branch he tore Which many a leaf and blossom bore, And the fine twigs beneath them laid A seat for him and Rama made. Then Hanuman with joyous mind, Son of the God who rules the wind, To Lakshman gave, his seat to be, The gay branch of a Sandal tree. Then King Sugriva with his eyes Still trembling with the sweet surprise Of the great joy he could not hide, To Raghu's noblest scion cried: "O Rama, racked with woe and fear, Spurned by my foes, I wander here. Reft of my spouse, forlorn I dwell Here in my forest citadel. Or wild with terror and distress Roam through the distant wilderness. Vext by my brother Bali long My soul has borne the scathe and wrong. Do thou, whose virtues all revere, Release me from my woe and fear. From dire distress thy friend to free Is a high task and worthy thee."

Doubt from Sugriva's heart had fled, And thus to Raghu's son he said: "No bliss the Gods of heaven deny. Each views me with a favouring eye, When thou, whom all good gifts attend, Hast sought me and become my friend. Leagued, friend, with thee in bold emprise My arm might win the conquered skies; And shall our banded strength be weak To gain the realm which now I seek? A happy fate was mine above My kith and kin and all I love, When, near the witness fire, I won Thy friendship, Raghu's glorious son. Thou too in ripening time shall see Thy friend not all unworthy thee. What gifts I have shall thus be shown: Not mine the tongue to make them known. Strong is the changeless bond that binds The friendly faith of noble minds, In woe, in danger, firm and sure Their constancy and love endure. Gold, silver, jewels rich and rare They count as wealth for friends to share. Yea, be they rich or poor and low, Blest with all joys or sunk in woe, Stained with each fault or pure of blame, Their friends the nearest place may claim; For whom they leave, at friendship's call, Their gold, their bliss, their homes and all."

Before the saint Vasishtha stood All those who wrought with stone and wood, And showed the work which every one In furtherance of the rite had done, Rejoiced their ready zeal to see, Thus to the craftsmen all said he: "I charge ye, masters, see to this, That there be nothing done amiss, And this, I pray, in mind be borne, That not one gift ye give in scorn: Whenever scorn a gift attends Great sin is his who thus offends." And now some days and nights had past, And kings began to gather fast, And precious gems in liberal store As gifts to Dasaratha bore. Then joy thrilled through Vasishtha's breast As thus the monarch he addressed: "Obedient to thy high decree The kings, my lord, are come to thee. And it has been my care to greet And honour all with reverence meet. Thy servants' task is ended quite, And all is ready for the rite. Come forth then to the sacred ground Where all in order will be found." Then Rishyasring confirmed the tale: Nor did their words to move him fail. The stars propitious influence lent When forth the world's great ruler went. Then by the sage Vasishtha led The priest begun to speed Those glorious rites wherein is shed The lifeblood of the steed.

Sumantra heard the sad reply, And saw his master's tearful eye. With reverent palm to palm applied He drew a little space aside. Then, as the king, with misery weak, With vain endeavour strove to speak, Kaikeyi, skilled in plot and plan, To sage Sumantra thus began: "The king, absorbed in joyful thought For his dear son, no rest has sought: Sleepless to him the night has past, And now o'erwatched he sinks at last. Then go, Sumantra, and with speed The glorious Rama hither lead: Go, as I pray, nor longer wait; No time is this to hesitate." "How can I go, O Lady fair, Unless my lord his will declare?" "Fain would I see him," cried the king, "Quick, quick, my beauteous Rama bring." Then rose the happy thought to cheer The bosom of the charioteer, "The king, I ween, of pious mind, The consecration has designed." Sumantra for his wisdom famed, Delighted with the thought he framed, From the calm chamber, like a bay Of crowded ocean, took his way. He turned his face to neither side, But forth he hurried straight; Only a little while he eyed The guards who kept the gate. He saw in front a gathered crowd Of men of every class, Who, parting as he came, allowed The charioteer to pass.

Before the high souled chief they bent, With circling steps around him went, And then with bitter wailing, they Departed each his several way. Like the great sun engulfed by night, The hero sped beyond their sight, While still the people mourned his fate And wept aloud disconsolate. The car-borne chieftain passed the bound Of Kosala's delightful ground, Where grain and riches bless the land, And people give with liberal hand: A lovely realm unvexed by fear, Where countless shrines and stakes(323) appear: Where mango-groves and gardens grow, And streams of pleasant water flow: Where dwells content a well-fed race, And countless kine the meadows grace: Filled with the voice of praise and prayer: Each hamlet worth a monarch's care. Before him three-pathed Ganga rolled Her heavenly waters bright and cold; O'er her pure breast no weeds were spread, Her banks were hermit-visited. The car-borne hero saw the tide That ran with eddies multiplied, And thus the charioteer addressed: "Here on the bank to-day we rest. Not distant from the river, see! There grows a lofty Ingudi With blossoms thick on every spray: There rest we, charioteer, to-day. I on the queen of floods will gaze, Whose holy stream has highest praise, Where deer, and bird, and glittering snake, God, Daitya, bard their pastime take."

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

With well-wrought plaster smoothly spread, With bloomy trees that rose o'erhead, With banners waving in the air, And wild birds singing here and there, With fragrant sandal-water wet, With many a flower beside it set, Like the Gods' heavenly pathway showed That mighty host's imperial road. Deft workmen, chosen for their skill To do the high-souled Bharat's will, In every pleasant spot where grew Trees of sweet fruit and fair to view, As he commanded, toiled to grace With all delights his camping-place. And they who read the stars, and well Each lucky sign and hour could tell, Raised carefully the tented shade Wherein high-minded Bharat stayed. With ample space of level ground, With broad deep moat encompassed round; Like Mandar in his towering pride, With streets that ran from side to side; Enwreathed with many a palace tall Surrounded by its noble wall; With roads by skilful workmen made, Where many a glorious banner played; With stately mansions, where the dove Sat nestling in her cote above. Rising aloft supremely fair Like heavenly cars that float in air, Each camp in beauty and in bliss Matched Indra's own metropolis. As shines the heaven on some fair night, With moon and constellations filled, The prince's royal road was bright, Adorned by art of workmen skilled.

To him the lady of the cave In words like these her answer gave: "Skilled Maya framed in days of old This magic wood of growing gold. The chief artificer in place Was he of all the Danav race. He, for his wise enchantments famed, This glorious dwelling planned and framed He for a thousand years endured The sternest penance, and secured From Brahma of all boons the best, The knowledge Usanas(752) possessed. Lord, by that boon, of all his will, He fashioned all with perfect skill; And, with his blissful state content, In this vast grove a season spent. By Indra's jealous bolt he fell For loving Hema's(753) charms too well. And Brahma on that nymph bestowed The treasures of this fair abode, Wherein her tranquil days to spend In happiness that ne'er may end. Sprung of a lineage old and high, Merusavarni's(754) daughter, I Guard ever for that heavenly dame This home, Svayamprabha(755) my name,-- For I have loved the lady long, So skilled in arts of dance and song. But say what cause your steps has led The mazes of this grove to tread. How, strangers did ye chance to spy The wood concealed from wanderer's eye? Tell clearly why ye come: but first Eat of this fruit and quench your thirst."

Thus by the high-souled prince addressed, Of Raghu's sons the chief and best, She cast all ruth and shame aside, And bold with greedy words replied: "Not wrath, O Rama, stirs the king, Nor misery stabs with sudden sting; One thought that fills his soul has he, But dares not speak for fear of thee. Thou art so dear, his lips refrain From words that might his darling pain. But thou, as duty bids, must still The promise of thy sire fulfil. He who to me in days gone by Vouchsafed a boon with honours high, Dares now, a king, his word regret, And caitiff-like disowns the debt. The lord of men his promise gave To grant the boon that I might crave, And now a bridge would idly throw When the dried stream has ceased to flow. His faith the monarch must not break In wrath, or e'en for thy dear sake. From faith, as well the righteous know, Our virtue and our merits flow. Now, be they good or be they ill, Do thou thy father's words fulfil: Swear that his promise shall not fail, And I will tell thee all the tale. Yes, Rama, when I hear that thou Hast bound thee by thy father's vow, Then, not till then, my lips shall speak, Nor will he tell what boon I seek."

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

Long may he wander, rags his wear, Doomed in his hand a skull to bear, And like an idiot beg his bread, Who gave consent when Rama fled. His sin who holy rites forgets, Asleep when shows the sun and sets, A load upon his soul shall lie Whose will allowed the prince to fly. His sin who loves his Master's dame, His, kindler of destructive flame, His who betrays his trusting friend Shall, mingled all, on him descend. By him no reverence due be paid To blessed God or parted shade: May sire and mother's sacred name In vain from him obedience claim. Ne'er may he go where dwell the good, Nor win their fame and neighbourhood, But lose all hopes of bliss to-day, Who willed the prince should flee away. May he deceive the poor and weak Who look to him and comfort seek, Betray the suppliants who complain, And make the hopeful hope in vain. Long may his wife his kiss expect, And pine away in cold neglect. May he his lawful love despise, And turn on other dames his eyes, Fool, on forbidden joys intent, Whose will allowed the banishment. His sin who deadly poison throws To spoil the water as it flows, Lay on the wretch its burden dread Who gave consent when Rama fled."(351)

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

As Ocean to a bubbling spring, The lion to a fox, the king Of all the birds that ply the wing To an ignoble crow As gold to lead of little price, As to the drainings of the rice The drink they quaff in Paradise, The Amrit's heavenly flow, As sandal dust with perfume sweet Is to the mire that soils our feet, A tiger to a cat, As the white swan is to the owl, The peacock to the waterfowl, An eagle to a bat, Such is my lord compared with thee; And when with bow and arrows he, Mighty as Indra's self shall see His foeman, armed to slay, Thou, death-doomed like the fly that sips The oil that on the altar drips, Shalt cast the morsel from thy lips And lose thy half-won prey." Thus in high scorn the lady flung The biting arrows of her tongue In bitter words that pierced and stung The rover of the night. She ceased. Her gentle cheek grew pale, Her loosened limbs began to fail, And like a plantain in the gale She trembled with affright. He terrible as Death stood nigh, And watched with fierce exulting eye The fear that shook her frame. To terrify the lady more, He counted all his triumphs o'er, Proclaimed the titles that he bore, His pedigree and name.

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

Again the Vanar chief began Each chamber, bower, and hall to scan. In vain: he found not her he sought, And pondered thus in bitter thought: "Ah me the Maithil queen is slain: She, ever true and free from stain, The fiend's entreaty has denied, And by his cruel hand has died. Or has she sunk, by terror killed, When first she saw the palace filled With female monsters evil miened Who wait upon the robber fiend? No battle fought, no might displayed, In vain this anxious search is made; Nor shall my steps, made slow by shame, Because I failed to find the dame, Back to our lord the king be bent, For he is swift to punishment. In every bower my feet have been, The dames of Ravan have I seen; But Rama's spouse I seek in vain, And all my toil is fruitless pain. How shall I meet the Vanar band I left upon the ocean strand? How, when they bid me speak, proclaim These tidings of defeat and shame? How shall I look on Angad's eye? What words will Jambavan reply? Yet dauntless hearts will never fail To win success though foes assail, And I this sorrow will subdue And search the palace through and through, Exploring with my cautious tread Each spot as yet unvisited."

Five chieftains of the Vanar race(978) Charged Kumbhakarna face to face, And his huge frame they wildly beat With rocks and trees and hands and feet. Round Rishabh first the giant wound His arms and hurled him to the ground, Where speechless, senseless, wounded sore, He lay his face besmeared with gore. Then Nila with his fist he slew, And Sarabh with his knee o'erthrew, Nor could Gavaksha's strength withstand The force of his terrific hand. At Gandhamadan's eager call Rushed thousands to avenge their fall, Nor ceased those Vanars to assail With knee and fist and tooth and nail. Around his foes the giant threw His mighty arms, and nearer drew The captives subject to his will: Then snatched them up and ate his fill. There was no respite then, no pause: Fast gaped and closed his hell-like jaws: Yet, prisoned in that gloomy cave, Some Vanars still their lives could save: Some through his nostrils found a way, Some through his ears resought the day. Like Indra with his thunder, like The God of Death in act to strike, The giant seized his ponderous spear, And charged the foe in swift career. Before his might the Vanars fell, Nor could their hosts his charge repel. Then trembling, nor ashamed to run, They turned and fled to Raghu's son.

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

King Guha saw the host spread o'er The wide expanse of Ganga's shore, With waving flag and pennon graced, And to his followers spoke in haste: "A mighty army meets my eyes, That rivals Ocean's self in size: Where'er I look my very mind No limit to the host can find. Sure Bharat with some evil thought His army to our land has brought. See, huge of form, his flag he rears, That like an Ebony-tree appears. He comes with bonds to take and chain, Or triumph o'er our people slain: And after, Rama will he slay,-- Him whom his father drove away: The power complete he longs to gain, And--task too hard--usurp the reign. So Bharat comes with wicked will His brother Rama's blood to spill. But Rama's slave and friend am I; He is my lord and dear ally. Keep here your watch in arms arrayed Near Ganga's flood to lend him aid, And let my gathered servants stand And line with troops the river strand. Here let the river keepers meet, Who flesh and roots and berries eat; A hundred fishers man each boat Of the five hundred here afloat, And let the youthful and the strong Assemble in defensive throng. But yet, if, free from guilty thought 'Gainst Rama, he this land have sought, The prince's happy host to-day Across the flood shall make its way."

The ladies soothed the weeping dame: To Rama's hermitage they came, And there the hero met their eyes Like a God fallen from the skies. Him joyless, reft of all, they viewed, And tears their mournful eyes bedewed. The truthful hero left his seat, And clasped the ladies' lotus feet, And they with soft hands brushed away The dust that on his shoulders lay. Then Lakshman, when he saw each queen With weeping eyes and troubled mien, Near to the royal ladies drew And paid them gentle reverence too. He, Dasaratha's offspring, signed The heir of bliss by Fortune kind, Received from every dame no less Each mark of love and tenderness. And Sita came and bent before The widows, while her eyes ran o'er, And pressed their feet with many a tear. They when they saw the lady dear Pale, worn with dwelling in the wild, Embraced her as a darling child: "Daughter of royal Janak, bride Of Dasaratha's son," they cried, "How couldst thou, offspring of a king, Endure this woe and suffering In the wild forest? When I trace Each sign of trouble on thy face-- That lotus which the sun has dried, That lily by the tempest tried, That gold whereon the dust is spread, That moon whence all the light is fled-- Sorrow assails my heart, alas! As fire consumes the wood and grass."

"Through every age 'tis known to fame, Panchapsaras(425) its glorious name, By holy Mandakarni wrought With power his rites austere had bought. For he, great votarist, intent On strictest rule his stern life spent. Ten thousand years the stream his bed, Ten thousand years on air he fed. Then on the blessed Gods who dwell In heavenly homes great terror fell: They gathered all, by Agni led, And counselled thus disquieted: "The hermit by ascetic pain The seat of one of us would gain." Thus with their hearts by fear oppressed In full assembly spoke the Blest, And bade five loveliest nymphs, as fair As lightning in the evening air, Armed with their winning wiles, seduce From his stern vows the great recluse. Though lore of earth and heaven he knew, The hermit from his task they drew, And made the great ascetic slave To conquering love, the Gods to save. Each of the heavenly five became, Bound to the sage, his wedded dame; And he, for his beloved's sake, Formed a fair palace neath the lake. Under the flood the ladies live, To joy and ease their days they give, And lap in bliss the hermit wooed From penance rites to youth renewed. So when the sportive nymphs within Those secret bowers their play begin, You hear the singers' dulcet tones Blend sweetly with their tinkling zones."

As Rama spake, his eyes were bent Upon a hermit settlement With light of heavenly lore endued, With sacred grass and vesture strewed. His wife and brother by his side, Within the holy bounds he hied, And there, with honour entertained By all the saints, a while remained. In time, by due succession led, Each votary's cot he visited, And then the lord of martial lore, Returned where he had lodged before. Here for the months, content, he stayed, There for a year his visit paid: Here for four months his home would fix, There, as it chanced, for five or six. Here for eight months and there for three The son of Raghu's stay would be: Here weeks, there fortnights, more or less, He spent in tranquil happiness. As there the hero dwelt at ease Among those holy devotees, In days untroubled o'er his head Ten circling years of pleasure fled. So Raghu's son in duty trained A while in every cot remained, Then with his dame retraced the road To good Sutikshna's calm abode. Hailed by the saints with honours due Near to the hermit's home he drew, And there the tamer of his foes Dwelt for a time in sweet repose. One day within that holy wood By saint Sutikshna Rama stood, And thus the prince with reverence meek To that high sage began to speak:

"Thou Dasaratha's son, hast slain The meaner giants of my train: And canst thou idly vaunt thy might And claim the praise not thine by right? Not thus in self-laudation rave The truly great, the nobly brave: No empty boasts like thine disgrace The foremost of the human race. The mean of soul, unknown to fame, Who taint their warrior race with shame, Thus speak in senseless pride as thou, O Raghu's son, hast boasted now. What hero, when the war-cry rings, Vaunts the high race from which he springs, Or seeks, when warriors meet and die, His own descent to glorify? Weakness and folly show confessed In every vaunt thou utterest, As when the flames fed high with grass Detect the simulating brass. Dost thou not see me standing here Armed with the mighty mace I rear, Firm as an earth upholding hill Whose summit veins of metal fill? Lo, here I stand before thy face To slay thee with my murderous mace, As Death, the universal lord, Stands threatening with his fatal cord. Enough of this. Much more remains That should be said: but time constrains. Ere to his rest the sun descend, And shades of night the combat end, The twice seven thousand of my band Who fell beneath thy bloody hand Shall have their tears all wiped away And triumph in thy fall to-day."

So thou whom fate and folly lead To ruin for this guilty deed, Shalt die by Rama's arm ere long A dreadful death for hideous wrong. Ah, too successful in their ends Are Queen Kaikeyi and her friends, When virtuous Rama, dear to fame, Is mourning for his ravished dame. Ah me, ah me! a long farewell To lawn and glade and forest dell In Janasthan's wild region, where The Cassia trees are bright and fair With all your tongues to Rama say That Ravan bears his wife away. Farewell, a long farewell to thee, O pleasant stream Godavari, Whose rippling waves are ever stirred By many a glad wild water-bird! All ye to Rama's ear relate The giant's deed and Sita's fate. O all ye Gods who love this ground Where trees of every leaf abound, Tell Rama I am stolen hence, I pray you all with reverence. On all the living things beside That these dark boughs and coverts hide, Ye flocks of birds, ye troops of deer, I call on you my prayer to hear. All ye to Rama's ear proclaim That Ravan tears away his dame With forceful arms,--his darling wife, Dearer to Rama than his life. O, if he knew I dwelt in hell, My mighty lord, I know full well, Would bring me, conqueror, back to-day, Though Yama's self reclaimed his prey."

My glorious husband far away, Making heroic strength his stay, Dwells with his brother, void of fear, In Dandak forest lone and drear. No more in force of arms confide: That haughty strength, that power and pride My hero with his arrowy rain From all thy bleeding limbs will drain. When urged by fate's dire mandate, nigh Comes the fixt hour for men to die. Caught in Death's toils their eyes are blind, And folly takes each wandering mind. So for the outrage thou hast done The fate is near thou canst not shun,-- The fate that on thyself and all Thy giants and thy town shall fall. I spurn thee: can the altar dight With vessels for the sacred rite, O'er which the priest his prayer has said, Be sullied by an outcaste's tread? So me, the consort dear and true Of him who clings to virtue too, Thy hated touch shall ne'er defile, Base tyrant lord of Lanka's isle. Can the white swan who floats in pride Through lilies by her consort's side, Look for one moment, as they pass, On the poor diver in the grass? This senseless body waits thy will, To torture, chain, to wound or kill. I will not, King of giants, strive To keep this fleeting soul alive But never shall they join the name Of Sita with reproach and shame."

"Thy fear and doubt," he cried, "dispelled, Hear, lady, what mine eyes beheld. Hear the imperial signs that grace The glory of Ikshvaku's race. With moon-bright face and lotus eyes, Most beautiful and good and wise, With sun-like glory round his head, Long-suffering as the earth we tread, He from all foes his realm defends. Yea, o'er the world his care extends. He follows right in all his ways, And ne'er from royal duty strays. He knows the lore that strengthens kings; His heart to truth and honour clings. Each grace and gift of form and mind Adorns that prince of human kind; And virtues like his own endue His brother ever firm and true. O'er all the land they roamed distraught, And thee with vain endeavour sought, Until at length their wandering feet Trod wearily our wild retreat. Our banished king Sugriva spied The princes from the mountain side. By his command I sought the pair And led them to our monarch there. Thus Rama and Sugriva met, And joined the bonds that knit them yet, When each besought the other's aid, And friendship and alliance made. An arrow launched from Rama's bow Laid Bali dead, Sugriva's foe. Then by commandment of our lord The Vanar hosts each land explored. We reached the coast: I crossed the sea And found my way at length to thee."(858)

The Wind-God's son a temple(873) scaled Which, by his fury unassailed, High as the hill of Meru, stood Amid the ruins of the wood; And in his fury thundered out Again his haughty battle-shout: "I am the slave of Kosal's King Whose wondrous deeds the minstrels sing." Forth hurried, by that shout alarmed, The warders of the temple armed With every weapon haste supplied, And closed him in on every side, With bands that strove to pierce and strike With shaft and axe and club and pike. Then from its base the Vanar tore A pillar with the weight it bore. Against the wall the mass he dashed, And forth the flames in answer flashed, That wildly ran o'er roofs and wall In hungry rage consuming all. He whirled the pillar round his head And struck a hundred giants dead. Then high upheld on air he rose And called in thunder to his foes: "A thousand Vanar chiefs like me Roam at their will o'er land and sea, Terrific might we all possess: Our stormy speed is limitless. And all, unconquered in the fray, Our king Sugriva's word obey. Backed by his bravest myriads, he Our warrior lord will cross the sea. Then Lanka's lofty towers, and all Your hosts and Ravan's self shall fall. None shall be left unslaughtered; none Who braves the wrath of Raghu's son."

Vibhishan saw his brother slain, Nor could his heart its woe contain. O'er the dead king he sadly bent And mourned him with a loud lament: "O hero, bold and brave," he cried, "Skilled in all arms, in battle tried. Spoiled of thy crown, with limbs outspread, Why wilt thou press thy gory bed? Why slumber on the earth's cold breast, When sumptuous couches woo to rest? Ah me, my brother over bold, Thine is the fate my heart foretold: But love and pride forbade to hear The friend who blamed thy wild career. Fallen is the sun who gave us light, Our lordly moon is veiled in night. Our beacon fire is dead and cold A hundred waves have o'er it rolled. What could his light and fire avail Against Lord Rama's arrowy hail? Woe for the giants' royal tree, Whose stately height was fair to see. His buds were deeds of kingly grace, His bloom the sons who decked his race. With rifled bloom and mangled bough The royal tree lies prostrate now." "Nay, idly mourn not," Rama cried, "The warrior king has nobly died, Intrepid hero, firm through all, So fell he as the brave should fall; And ill beseems it chiefs like us To weep for those who perish thus. Be firm: thy causeless grief restrain, And pay the dues that yet remain."

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

But Rama, when he first looked down And saw afar Ayodhya's town, Had called Hanuman to his side, The chief on whom his heart relied, And said: "Brave Vanar, good at need, Haste onward, to Ayodhya speed, And learn, I pray, if all be well With those who in the palace dwell. But as thou speedest on thy way Awhile at Sringavera stay. Tell Guha the Nishadas' lord, That victor, with my queen restored, In health and strength with many a friend Homeward again my steps I bend. Thence by the road that he will show On to Ayodhya swiftly go. There with my love my brother greet, And all our wondrous tale repeat. Say that victorious in the strife I come with Lakshman and my wife, Then mark with keenest eye each trace Of joy or grief on Bharat's face. Be all his gestures closely viewed, Each change of look and attitude. Where breathes the man who will not cling To all that glorifies a king? Where beats the heart that can resign An ancient kingdom, nor repine To lose a land renowned for breeds Of elephants and warrior steeds? If, won by custom day by day, My brother Bharat thirsts for sway, Still let him rule the nations, still The throne of old Ikshvaku fill. Go, mark him well: his feelings learn, And, ere we yet be near return."

Then Vishnu, bearing shell, and mace, And discus, showed his radiant face, And thus addressed in smiling glee The Trident wielding deity: "What treasure first the Gods upturn From troubled Ocean, as they churn, Should--for thou art the eldest--be Conferred, O best of Gods, on thee. Then come, and for thy birthright's sake, This venom as thy first fruits take." He spoke, and vanished from their sight, When Siva saw their wild affright, And heard his speech by whom is borne The mighty bow of bending horn,(204) The poisoned flood at once he quaffed As 'twere the Amrit's heavenly draught. Then from the Gods departing went Siva, the Lord pre-eminent. The host of Gods and Asurs still Kept churning with one heart and will. But Mandar's mountain, whirling round, Pierced to the depths below the ground. Then Gods and bards in terror flew To him who mighty Madhu slew. "Help of all beings! more than all, The Gods on thee for aid may call. Ward off, O mighty-armed! our fate, And bear up Mandar's threatening weight." Then Vishnu, as their need was sore, The semblance of a tortoise wore, And in the bed of Ocean lay The mountain on his back to stay. Then he, the soul pervading all, Whose locks in radiant tresses fall, One mighty arm extended still, And grasped the summit of the hill. So ranged among the Immortals, he Joined in the churning of the sea.

She listened, as with sorrow faint He murmured forth his sad complaint: Her brimming eyes with tears ran o'er, As spouts the new fallen water pour; His suppliant hands, with fear dismayed She gently clasped in hers, and laid, Like a fair lotus, on her head, And faltering in her trouble said: "Forgive me; at thy feet I lie, With low bent head to thee I cry. By thee besought, thy guilty dame Pardon from thee can scarcely claim. She merits not the name of wife Who cherishes perpetual strife With her own husband good and wise, Her lord both here and in the skies. I know the claims of duty well, I know thy lips the truth must tell. All the wild words I rashly spoke, Forth from my heart, through anguish, broke; For sorrow bends the stoutest soul, And cancels Scripture's high control. Yea, sorrow's might all else o'erthrows The strongest and the worst of foes. 'Tis thus with all: we keenly feel, Yet bear the blows our foemen deal, But when a slender woe assails The manliest spirit bends and quails. The fifth long night has now begun Since the wild woods have lodged my son: To me whose joy is drowned in tears, Each day a dreary year appears. While all my thoughts on him are set Grief at my heart swells wilder yet: With doubled might thus Ocean raves When rushing floods increase his waves."

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

Straight at the king the giant sped, And earth was shaken at his tread. His bow the hero grasped and strained, And deadly shafts in torrents rained. As Kumbhakarna felt each stroke From his huge mouth burst fire and smoke; His hands were loosed in mortal pain And dropped his weapons on the plain. Though reft of spear and sword and mace No terror changed his haughty face. With heavy hands he rained his blows And smote to death a thousand foes. Where'er the furious monster strode While down his limbs the red blood flowed Like torrents down a mountain's side, Vanars and bears and giants died. High o'er his head a rock he swung, And the huge mass at Rama flung. But Rama's arrows bright as flame Shattered the mountain as it came. Then Raghu's son, his eyes aglow With burning anger, charged the foe, And as his bow he strained and tried With fearful clang the cord replied. Wroth at the bowstring's threatening clang To meet his foe the giant sprang. High towering with enormous frame Huge as a wood-crowned hill he came. But Rama firm and self-possessed In words like these the foe addressed: "Draw near, O Rakshas lord, draw near, Nor turn thee from the fight in fear. Thou meetest Rama face to face, Destroyer of the giant race. Come, fight, and thou shalt feel this hour, Laid low in death, thy conqueror's power."

His mandate Raghu's sons obeyed, And to their sire obeisance made, Where high he stood above the car In wondrous light that shone afar, His limbs in radiant garments dressed Whereon no spot of dust might rest. When on the son he loved so well The eyes of Dasaratha fell, He strained the hero to his breast And thus with gentle words addressed: "No joy to me is heavenly bliss, For there these eyes my Rama miss. Enrolled on high with saint and sage, Thy woes, dear son, my thoughts engage. Kaikeyi's guile I ne'er forget: Her cruel words will haunt me yet, Which sent thee forth, my son, to roam The forest far from me and home. Now when I look on each dear face, And hold you both in fond embrace, My heart is full of joy to see The sons I love from danger free. Now know I what the Gods designed, And how in Rama's form enshrined The might of Purushottam lay, The tyrant of the worlds to slay. Ah, how Kausalya will rejoice To hear again her darling's voice, And, all thy weary wanderings o'er, To gaze upon thy face once more. Ah blest, for ever blest are they Whose eyes shall see the glorious day Of thy return in joy at last, Thy term of toil and exile past. Ayodhya's lord, begin thy reign, And day by day new glory gain."

When to the end the tale was brought, Rose in the sage's mind the thought; "Now who throughout this earth will go, And tell it forth that all may know?" As thus he mused with anxious breast, Behold, in hermit's raiment dressed, Kusa and Lava(56) came to greet Their master and embrace his feet. The twins he saw, that princely pair Sweet-voiced, who dwelt beside him there None for the task could be more fit, For skilled were they in Holy Writ; And so the great Ramayan, fraught With lore divine, to these he taught: The lay whose verses sweet and clear Take with delight the listening ear, That tell of Sita's noble life And Ravan's fall in battle strife. Great joy to all who hear they bring, Sweet to recite and sweet to sing. For music's sevenfold notes are there, And triple measure,(57) wrought with care With melody and tone and time, And flavours(58) that enhance the rime; Heroic might has ample place, And loathing of the false and base, With anger, mirth, and terror, blent With tenderness, surprise, content. When, half the hermit's grace to gain, And half because they loved the strain, The youth within their hearts had stored The poem that his lips outpoured, Valmiki kissed them on the head, As at his feet they bowed, and said; "Recite ye this heroic song In tranquil shades where sages throng: Recite it where the good resort, In lowly home and royal court."

Of old the Lord of Life gave birth To mighty Kusa, king of earth. His son was Kusanabha, strong, Friend of the right, the foe of wrong. Gadhi, whose fame no time shall dim, Heir of his throne was born to him, And Visvamitra, Gadhi's heir, Governed the land with kingly care. While years unnumbered rolled away The monarch reigned with equal sway. At length, assembling many a band, He led his warriors round the land-- Complete in tale, a mighty force, Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse. Through cities, groves, and floods he passed, O'er lofty hills, through regions vast. He reached Vasishtha's pure abode, Where trees, and flowers, and creepers glowed, Where troops of sylvan creatures fed; Which saints and angels visited. Gods, fauns, and bards of heavenly race, And spirits, glorified the place; The deer their timid ways forgot, And holy Brahmans thronged the spot. Bright in their souls, like fire, were these, Made pure by long austerities, Bound by the rule of vows severe, And each in glory Brahma's peer. Some fed on water, some on air, Some on the leaves that withered there. Roots and wild fruit were others' food; All rage was checked, each sense subdued, There Balakhilyas(220) went and came, Now breathed the prayer, now fed the flame: These, and ascetic bands beside, The sweet retirement beautified. Such was Vasishtha's blest retreat, Like Brahma's own celestial seat, Which gladdened Visvamitra's eyes, Peerless for warlike enterprise.

Then Rama's form and stature tall Entranced the wondering eyes of all,-- His youthful grace, his strength of limb, And garb that nobly sat on him. To Lakshman too their looks they raised, And upon Sita's beauty gazed With eyes that closed not lest their sight Should miss the vision of delight. Then the pure hermits of the wood, Rejoicing in all creatures' good, Their guest, the glorious Rama, led Within a cot with leaves o'erhead. With highest honour all the best Of radiant saints received their guest, With kind observance, as is meet, And gave him water for his feet. To highest pitch of rapture wrought Their stores of roots and fruit they brought. They poured their blessings on his head, And "All we have is thine," they said. Then, reverent hand to hand applied,(405) Each duty-loving hermit cried: "The king is our protector, bright In fame, maintainer of the right. He bears the awful sword, and hence Deserves an elder's reverence. One fourth of Indra's essence, he Preserves his realm from danger free, Hence honoured by the world of right The king enjoys each choice delight. Thou shouldst to us protection give, For in thy realm, dear lord, we live: Whether in town or wood thou be, Thou art our king, thy people we. Our wordly aims are laid aside, Our hearts are tamed and purified. To thee our guardian, we who earn Our only wealth by penance turn."

She heard the prince his wish declare: Then rose she, and the royal pair Of brothers through the wood she led That round her holy dwelling spread. "Behold Matanga's wood" she cried, "A grove made famous far and wide. Dark as thick clouds and filled with herds Of wandering deer, and joyous birds. In this pure spot each reverend sire With offerings fed the holy fire. See here the western altar stands Where daily with their trembling hands The aged saints, so long obeyed By me, their gifts of blossoms laid. The holy power, O Raghu's son, By their ascetic virtue won, Still keeps their well-loved altar bright, Filling the air with beams of light. And those seven neighbouring lakes behold Which, when the saints infirm and old, Worn out by fasts, no longer sought, Moved hither drawn by power of thought. Look, Rama, where the devotees Hung their bark mantles on the trees, Fresh from the bath: those garments wet Through many a day are dripping yet. See, through those aged hermits' power The tender spray, this bright-hued flower With which the saints their worship paid, Fresh to this hour nor change nor fade. Here thou hast seen each lawn and dell, And heard the tale I had to tell: Permit thy servant, lord, I pray, To cast this mortal shell away, For I would dwell, this life resigned, With those great saints of lofty mind, Whom I within this holy shade With reverential care obeyed."

"By Bali's conquering might oppressed, Of power and kingship dispossessed, Loaded with taunts of scorn and hate I left my realm and royal state. He tore away my consort: she Was dearer than my life to me, And many a friend to me and mine In hopeless chains was doomed to pine. With wicked thoughts, unsated still, Me whom he wrongs he yearns to kill; And spies of Vanar race, who tried To slay me, by this hand have died. Moved by this constant doubt and fear I saw thee, Prince, and came not near. When woe and peril gather round A foe in every form is found. Save Hanuman, O Raghu's son, And these, no friend is left me, none. Through their kind aid, a faithful band Who guard their lord from hostile hand, Rest when their chieftain rests and bend Their steps where'er he lists to wend,-- Through them alone, in toil and pain, My wretched life I still sustain. Enough, for thou hast heard in brief The story of my pain and grief. His mighty strength all regions know, My brother, but my deadly foe. Ah, if the proud oppressor fell, His death would all my woe dispel. Yea, on my cruel conqueror's fall My joy depends, my life, my all. This were the end and sure relief, O Rama, of my tale of grief. Fair be his lot or dark with woe, No comfort like a friend I know."

She listened, for his words were kind, Where virtue showed with gain combined, And thus in turn the prince addressed, As hope was rising in his breast: "No time, no cause of wrath I see With those who live and honour thee: And thou shouldst bear without offence Thy servant's fitful negligence. I know the seasons glide away, While Rama maddens at delay I know what deed our thanks has earned, I know that grace should be returned. But still I know, whate'er befall, That conquering love is lord of all; Know where Sugriva's thoughts, possessed By one absorbing passion, rest. But he whom sensual joys debase Heeds not the claim of time and place, And sees not with his blinded sight His duty or his gain aright. O pardon him who loves me! spare The Vanar caught in pleasure's snare, And once again let Rama grace With favour him who rules our race. E'en royal saints, whose chief delight Was penance and austerest rite, At love's commandment have unbent, Beguiled by sweetest blandishment. And know, Sugriva, roused at last, The order to his lords has passed, And, long by love and bliss delayed, Wakes all on fire your hopes to aid. A countless host his city fills, New-gathered from a thousand hills: Impetuous chiefs, who wear at need Each varied form, his legions lead. Come then, O hero, kept aloof By modest awe, nor fear reproof: A faithful friend untouched by blame May look upon another's dame."

Away, away the Vanars sped Like locusts o'er the land outspread. To northern realms where rising high The King of Mountains cleaves the sky, Fierce Satabal with vast array Of Vanar warriors led the way. Far southward, as his lord decreed, Wise Hanuman, the Wind-God's seed, With Angad his swift way pursued, And Tara's warlike multitude, Strong Vinata with all his band Betook him to the eastern land, And brave Sushen in eager quest Sped swiftly to the gloomy west. Each Vanar chieftain sought with speed The quarter by his king decreed, While from his legions rose on high The shout and boast and battle cry: "We will restore the dame and beat The robber down beneath our feet. My arm alone shall win the day From Ravan met in single fray, Shall rob the robber of his life, And rescue Rama's captive wife All trembling in her fear and woe. Here, comrades, rest: no farther go: For I will vanquish hell, and she Shall by this arm again be free. The rooted mountains will I rend, The mightiest trees will break and bend, Earth to her deep foundations cleave, And make the calm sea throb and heave. A hundred leagues from steep to steep In desperate bound my feet shall leap. My steps shall tread unchecked and free, Through woods, o'er land and hill and sea, Range as they list from flood to fell, And wander through the depths of hell."

"Rama," he cried, "a prince whose sway All peoples of the earth obey, To Dandak's tangled forest came With his brave brother and his dame. From that dark shade of forest boughs The giant Ravan stole his spouse. Our king Sugriva's orders send These Vanars forth to aid his friend, That so the lady be restored Uninjured to her sorrowing lord. With Angad and the rest, this band Has wandered through the southern land, With careful search in every place The lady and the fiend to trace. We roamed the southern region o'er, And stood upon the ocean's shore. By hunger pressed our strength gave way; Beneath the spreading trees we lay, And cried, worn out with toil and woe, "No farther, comrades, can we go." Then as our sad eyes looked around We spied an opening in the ground, Where all was gloomy dark behind The creeping plants that o'er it twined. Forth trooping from the dark-recess Came swans and mallards numberless, With drops upon their shining wings As newly bathed where water springs. "On, comrades, to the cave," I cried And all within the portal hied. Each clasping fast another's hand Far onward pressed the Vanar band; And still, as thirst and hunger drove, We traced the mazes of the grove. Here thou with hospitable care Hast fed us with the noblest fare, Preserving us, about to die, With this thy plentiful supply. But how, O pious lady, say, May we thy gracious boon repay?"

Loud as the angry ocean's roar When wild waves lash the rocky shore, Ten thousand thousand throats upsent A shout that tore the firmament, And Lanka with each grove and brook And tower and wall and rampart shook. The giants heard, and were appalled: Then Raghu's son to Angad called, And, led by kingly duty,(950) gave This order merciful as brave: "Go, Angad, Ravan's presence seek, And thus my words of warning speak: "How art thou changed and fallen now, O Monarch of the giants, thou Whose impious fury would not spare Saint, nymph, or spirit of the air; Whose foot in haughty triumph trod On Yaksha, king, and Serpent God: How art thou fallen from thy pride Which Brahma's favour fortified! With myriads at thy Lanka's gate I stand my righteous ire to sate, And punish thee with sword and flame, The tyrant fiend who stole my dame. Now show the might, employ the guile, O Monarch of the giants' isle, Which stole a helpless dame away: Call up thy power and strength to-day. Once more I warn thee, Rakshas King, This hour the Maithil lady bring, And, yielding while there yet is time, Seek, suppliant, pardon for the crime, Or I will leave beneath the sun No living Rakshas, no, not one. In vain from battle wilt thou fly, Or borne on pinions seek the sky; The hand of Rama shall not spare; His fiery shaft shall smite thee there.' "

On piles of holy Fig-tree raised The meaner victims' bodies blazed: The steed, of all the creatures slain, Alone required a pile of cane. Three days, as is by law decreed, Lasted that Offering of the Steed. The Chatushtom began the rite, And when the sun renewed his light, The Ukthya followed: after came The Atiratra's holy flame. These were the rites, and many more Arranged by light of holy lore, The Aptoryam of mighty power, And, each performed in proper hour, The Abhijit and Visvajit With every form and service fit; And with the sacrifice at night The Jyotishtom and Ayus rite.(103) The task was done, as laws prescribe: The monarch, glory of his tribe, Bestowed the land in liberal grants Upon the sacred ministrants. He gave the region of the east, His conquest, to the Hotri priest. The west, the celebrant obtained: The south, the priest presiding gained: The northern region was the share Of him who chanted forth the prayer,(104) Thus did each priest obtain his meed At the great Slaughter of the Steed, Ordained, the best of all to be, By self-existent deity. Ikshvaku's son with joyful mind This noble fee to each assigned, But all the priests with one accord Addressed that unpolluted lord: "Tis thine alone to keep the whole Of this broad earth in firm control. No gift of lands from thee we seek: To guard these realms our hands were weak. On sacred lore our days are spent: Let other gifts our wants content."

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."

Then, all his thoughts on Sita bent, The Vanar chieftain made lament: "The queen to Rama's soul endeared, By Lakshman's pious heart revered, Lies here,--for none may strive with Fate, A captive, sad and desolate. The brothers' might full well she knows, And bravely bears the storm of woes, As swelling Ganga in the rains The rush of every flood sustains. Her lord, for her, fierce Bali slew, Viradha's monstrous might o'erthrew, For her the fourteen thousand slain In Janasthan bedewed the plain. And if for her Ikshvaku's son Destroyed the world 'twere nobly done. This, this is she, so far renowned, Who sprang from out the furrowed ground,(823) Child of the high-souled king whose sway The men of Mithila obey: The glorious lady wooed and won By Dasaratha's noblest son; And now these sad eyes look on her Mid hostile fiends a prisoner. From home and every bliss she fled By wifely love and duty led, And heedless of a wanderer's woes, A life in lonely forests chose. This, this is she so fair of mould. Whose limbs are bright as burnished gold. Whose voice was ever soft and mild, Who sweetly spoke and sweetly smiled. O, what is Rama's misery! how He longs to see his darling now! Pining for one of her fond looks As one athirst for water brooks. Absorbed in woe the lady sees No Rakshas guard, no blooming trees. Her eyes are with her thoughts, and they Are fixed on Rama far away."

But Ravan, as his fury burned, His eyes on youthful Aksha(877) turned, Who rose impetuous at his glance And shouted for his bow and lance. He rode upon a glorious car That shot the light of gems afar. His pennon waved mid glittering gold And bright the wheels with jewels rolled, By long and fierce devotion won That car was splendid as the sun. With rows of various weapons stored; And thought-swift horses whirled their lord Racing along the earth, or rose High through the clouds whene'er he chose. Then fierce and fearful war between The Vanar and the fiend was seen. The Gods and Asurs stood amazed, And on the wondrous combat gazed. A cry from earth rose long and shrill, The wind was hushed, the sun grew chill. The thunder bellowed from the sky, And troubled ocean roared reply. Thrice Aksha strained his dreadful bow, Thrice smote his arrow on the foe, And with full streams of crimson bled Three gashes in the Vanar's head. Then rose Hanuman in the air To shun the shafts no life could bear. But Aksha in his car pursued, And from on high the fight renewed With storm of arrows, thick as hail When angry clouds some hill assail. Impatient of that arrowy shower The Vanar chief put forth his power, Again above his chariot rose And smote him with repeated blows. Terrific came each deadly stroke: Breast neck and arm and back he broke; And Aksha fell to earth, and lay With all his life-blood drained away.

"Yet more remain, brave chiefs who stake Their noble lives for Rama's sake. See, glorious, golden-coated, one Who glisters like the morning sun, Whom thousands of his race surround, 'Tis Hara for his strength renowned. Next comes a mighty chieftain, he Whose legions, armed with rock and tree, Press on, in numbers passing tale, The ramparts of our town to scale. O Ravan, see the king advance Terrific with his fiery glance, Girt by the bravest of his train, Majestic as the God of Rain, Parjanya, when his host of clouds About the king, embattled, crowds: On Rikshavan's high mountain nursed, In Narmada(940) he slakes his thirst, Dhumra, proud ursine chief, who leads Wild warriors whom the forest breeds. His brother, next in strength and age, In Jambavan the famous sage. Of yore his might and skill he lent To him who rules the firmament, And Indra's liberal boons repaid The chieftain for the timely aid. There like a gloomy cloud that flies Borne by the tempest through the skies, Pramathi stands: he roamed of yore The forest wilds on Ganga's shore, Where elephants were struck with dread And trembling at his coming fled. There on his foes he loved to sate The old hereditary hate.(941) Look, Gaja and Gavaksha show Their lust of battle with the foe. See Nala burning for the fray, And Nila chafing at delay. Behind the eager captains press Wild hosts in numbers numberless, And each for Rama's sake would fall Or force his way through Lanka's wall."

Then Rama answering, Be it so, Made ready with the rest to go. The saint himself was now prepared, But ere beyond the grove he fared, He turned him and in words like these Addressed the sylvan deities: "Farewell! each holy rite complete, I leave the hermits' perfect seat: To Ganga's northern shore I go Beneath Himalaya's peaks of snow." With reverent steps he paced around The limits of the holy ground, And then the mighty saint set forth And took his journey to the north. His pupils, deep in Scripture's page, Followed behind the holy sage, And servants from the sacred grove A hundred wains for convoy drove. The very birds that winged that air, The very deer that harboured there, Forsook the glade and leafy brake And followed for the hermit's sake. They travelled far, till in the west The sun was speeding to his rest, And made, their portioned journey o'er, Their halt on Sona's(171) distant shore. The hermits bathed when sank the sun, And every rite was duly done, Oblations paid to Fire, and then Sate round their chief the holy men. Rama and Lakshman lowly bowed In reverence to the hermit crowd, And Rama, having sate him down Before the saint of pure renown, With humble palms together laid His eager supplication made: "What country, O my lord, is this, Fair-smiling in her wealth and bliss? Deign fully, O thou mighty Seer, To tell me, for I long to hear." Moved by the prayer of Rama, he Told forth the country's history.

"Yea, for my father's promise sake I to the wood my way will take, And dwell a lonely exile there In hermit dress with matted hair. One thing alone I fain would learn, Why is the king this day so stern? Why is the scourge of foes so cold, Nor gives me greeting as of old? Now let not anger flush thy cheek: Before thy face the truth I speak, In hermit's coat with matted hair To the wild wood will I repair. How can I fail his will to do, Friend, master, grateful sovereign too? One only pang consumes my breast: That his own lips have not expressed His will, nor made his longing known That Bharat should ascend the throne. To Bharat I would yield my wife, My realm and wealth, mine own dear life, Unasked I fain would yield them all: More gladly at my father's call, More gladly when the gift may free His honour and bring joy to thee. Thus, lady, his sad heart release From the sore shame, and give him peace. But tell me, O, I pray thee, why The lord of men, with downcast eye, Lies prostrate thus, and one by one Down his pale cheek the tear-drops run. Let couriers to thy father speed On horses of the swiftest breed, And, by the mandate of the king, Thy Bharat to his presence bring. My father's words I will not stay To question, but this very day To Dandak's pathless wild will fare, For twice seven years an exile there."

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

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

The monstrous fiend, to anger stirred, The converse of the brothers heard. His horrid mouth he opened wide And drew the princes to his side. They, skilled due time and place to note Unsheathed their glittering swords and smote, Till from the giant's shoulders they Had hewn the mighty arms away. His trenchant falchion Rama plied And smote him on the better side, While valiant Lakshman on the left The arm that held him prisoned cleft. Then to the earth dismembered fell The monster with a hideous yell, And like a cloud's his deep roar went Through earth and air and firmament. Then as the giant's blood flowed fast, On his cleft limbs his eye he cast, And called upon the princely pair Their names and lineage to declare. Him then the noble Lakshman, blest With fortune's favouring marks, addressed, And told the fiend his brother's name And the high blood of which he came: "Ikshvaku's heir here Rama stands, Illustrious through a hundred lands. I, younger brother of the heir, O fiend, the name of Lakshman bear. His mother stole his realm away And drove him forth in woods to stray. Thus through the mighty forest he Roamed with his royal wife and me. While glorious as a God he made His dwelling in the greenwood shade, Some giant stole away his dame, And seeking her we hither came. But tell me who thou art, and why With headless trunk that towered so high, With flaming face beneath thy chest, Thou liest crushed in wild unrest."

The palace gates were guarded well By many a Rakshas sentinel, And far within, concealed from view, Were dames and female retinue For charm of form and face renowned; Whose tinkling armlets made a sound, Clashed by the wearers in their glee, Like music of a distant sea. The hall beyond the palace gate, Rich with each badge of royal state, Where lines of noble courtiers stood, Showed like a lion-guarded wood. There the wild music rose and fell Of drum and tabor and of shell, Through chambers at each holy tide By solemn worship sanctified. Through grove and garden, undismayed, From house to house the Vanar strayed, And still his wondering glances bent On terrace, dome, and battlement: Then with a light and rapid tread Prahasta's(807) home he visited, And Kumbhakarna's(808) courtyard where A cloudy pile rose high in air; And, wandering o'er the hill, explored The garden of each Rakshas lord. Each court and grove he wandered through, Then nigh to Ravan's palace drew. She-demons watched it foul of face, Each armed with sword and spear and mace, And warrior fiends of every hue, A strange and fearful retinue. There elephants in many a row, The terror of the stricken foe. Huge Airavat,(809) deftly trained In battle-fields, stood ready chained. Fair litters on the ground were set Adorned with gems and golden net. Gay bloomy creepers clothed the walls; Green bowers were there and picture halls, And chambers made for soft delight. Broad banners waved on every height. And from the roof like Mandar's hill The peacock's cry came loud and shrill.(810)

He ceased: and King Sugriva tried To calm his grief, and thus replied: "'Be to thy nobler nature true, Nor let despair thy soul subdue. This cloud of causeless woe dispel, For all as yet has prospered well, And we have traced thy queen, and know The dwelling of our Rakshas foe. Arise, consult: thy task must be To cast a bridge athwart the sea, The city of our foe to reach That crowns the mountain by the beach; And when our feet that isle shall tread, Rejoice and deem thy foeman dead. The sea unbridged, his walls defy Both fiends and children of the sky, Though at the fierce battalions' head Lord Indra's self the onset led. Yea, victory is thine before The long bridge touch the farther shore, So fleet and fierce and strong are these Who limb them as their fancies please. Away with grief and sad surmise That mar the noblest enterprise, And with their weak suspicion blight The sage's plan, the hero's might. Come, this degenerate weakness spurn, And bid thy dauntless heart return, For each fair hope by grief is crossed When those we love are dead or lost. Arise, O best of those who know, Arm for the giant's overthrow. None in the triple world I see Who in the fight may equal thee; None who before thy face may stand And brave the bow that arms thy hand, Trust to these mighty Vanars: they With full success thy trust will pay, When thou shalt reach the robber's hold, And loving arms round Sita fold."

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

At length when many a year had fled, Up floated, on her lotus bed, A maiden fair and tender-eyed, In the young flush of beauty's pride. She shone with pearl and golden sheen, And seals of glory stamped her queen, On each round arm glowed many a gem, On her smooth brows, a diadem. Rolling in waves beneath her crown The glory of her hair flowed down, Pearls on her neck of price untold, The lady shone like burnisht gold. Queen of the Gods, she leapt to land, A lotus in her perfect hand, And fondly, of the lotus-sprung, To lotus-bearing Vishnu clung. Her Gods above and men below As Beauty's Queen and Fortune know.(210) Gods, Titans, and the minstrel train Still churned and wrought the troubled main. At length the prize so madly sought, The Amrit, to their sight was brought. For the rich spoil, 'twixt these and those A fratricidal war arose, And, host 'gainst host in battle, set, Aditi's sons and Diti's met. United, with the giants' aid, Their fierce attack the Titans made, And wildly raged for many a day That universe-astounding fray. When wearied arms were faint to strike, And ruin threatened all alike, Vishnu, with art's illusive aid, The Amrit from their sight conveyed. That Best of Beings smote his foes Who dared his deathless arm oppose: Yea, Vishnu, all-pervading God, Beneath his feet the Titans trod Aditi's race, the sons of light, slew Diti's brood in cruel fight. Then town-destroying(211) Indra gained His empire, and in glory reigned O'er the three worlds with bard and sage Rejoicing in his heritage.

He ended. To the princely youth Who loved the right and spoke the truth, Cruel, abominable came The answer of the ruthless dame: "When Gods and Titans fought of yore, Transfixed with darts and bathed in gore Two boons to me thy father gave For the dear life 'twas mine to save. Of him I claim the ancient debt, That Bharat on the throne be set, And thou, O Rama, go this day To Dandak forest far away. Now, Rama, if thou wilt maintain Thy father's faith without a stain, And thine own truth and honour clear, Then, best of men, my bidding hear. Do thou thy father's word obey, Nor from the pledge he gave me stray. Thy life in Dandak forest spend Till nine long years and five shall end. Upon my Bharat's princely head Let consecrating drops be shed, With all the royal pomp for thee Made ready by the king's decree. Seek Dandak forest and resign Rites that would make the empire thine, For twice seven years of exile wear The coat of bark and matted hair. Then in thy stead let Bharat reign Lord of his royal sire's domain, Rich in the fairest gems that shine, Cars, elephants, and steeds, and kine. The monarch mourns thy altered fate And vails his brow compassionate: Bowed down by bitter grief he lies And dares not lift to thine his eyes. Obey his word: be firm and brave, And with great truth the monarch save." While thus with cruel words she spoke, No grief the noble youth betrayed; But forth the father's anguish broke, At his dear Rama's lot dismayed.