Ramayana on Fear

His giant foe no answer made, But on his string an arrow laid. He raised his arm, the cord he drew, At Lakshman's breast the arrow flew. Sumitra's son, his foemen's dread, Shot a fleet shaft with crescent head, Which cleft that arrow pointed well, And harmless to the earth it fell. A shower of shafts from Lakshman's bow Fell fast and furious on the foe Who quailed not as the missiles smote With idle force his iron coat. Then came the friendly Wind-God near, And whispered thus in Lakshman's ear: "Such shafts as these in vain assail Thy foe's impenetrable mail. A more tremendous missile try, Or never may the giant die. Employ the mighty spell, and aim The weapon known by Brahma's name." He ceased; Sumitra's son obeyed: On his great bow the shaft was laid, And with a roar like thunder, true As Indra's flashing bolt, it flew. The giant poured his shafts like rain To check its course, but all in vain. With spear and mace and sword he tried To turn the fiery dart aside. Winged with a force which naught could check, It smote the monster in the neck, And, sundered from his shoulders, rolled To earth his head and helm of gold.

"In doubt and fear long years have passed And glorious tidings come at last. True, true is now the ancient verse Which men in time of bliss rehearse: "Once only in a hundred years Great joy to mortal men appears." But now his woes and triumph tell, And loss and gain as each befell." He ceased: Hanuman mighty-souled The tale of Rama's wanderings told From that first day on which he stood In the drear shade of Dandak wood. He told how fierce Viradha fell; He told of Sarabhanga's cell Where Rama saw with wondering eyes Indra descended from the skies. He told how Surpanakhi came, Her soul aglow with amorous flame, And fled repulsed, with rage and tears, Reft of her nose and severed ears. He told how Rama's might subdued The giants' furious multitude; How Khara with the troops he led And Trisiras and Dushan bled: How Rama, tempted from his cot, The golden deer pursued and shot, And Ravan came and stole away The Maithil queen his hapless prey, When, as he fought, the dame to save, His noble life Jatayus gave: How Rama still the the search renewed, The robber to his hold pursued, Bridging the sea from shore to shore, And found his queen to part no more.(1025)

Then thus the Brahman saint replied To her whose heart with woe was tried, And grieving for his favourite's sake, As to a suffering sister spake: "I leave thee not: dismiss the thought; Nor, duteous, hast thou failed in aught. This king, o'erweening in the pride Of power, has reft thee from my side. Little, I ween, my strength could do 'Gainst him, a mighty warrior too. Strong, as a soldier born and bred,-- Great, as a king whom regions dread. See! what a host the conqueror leads, With elephants, and cars, and steeds. O'er countless bands his pennons fly; So is he mightier far than I." He spoke. Then she, in lowly mood, To that high saint her speech renewed: "So judge not they who wisest are: The Brahman's might is mightier far. For Brahmans strength from Heaven derive, And warriors bow when Brahmans strive. A boundless power 'tis thine to wield: To such a king thou shouldst not yield, Who, very mighty though he be,-- So fierce thy strength,--must bow to thee. Command me, Saint. Thy power divine Has brought me here and made me thine; And I, howe'er the tyrant boast, Will tame his pride and slay his host." Then cried the glorious sage: "Create A mighty force the foe to mate."

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."

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."

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

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)

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.

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

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."

His pitying eyes with tears bedewed, The weeping queen again he viewed, And saw around the prisoner stand Her demon guard, a fearful band. Some earless, some with ears that hung Low as their feet and loosely swung: Some fierce with single ears and eyes, Some dwarfish, some of monstrous size: Some with their dark necks long and thin With hair upon the knotty skin: Some with wild locks, some bald and bare, Some covered o'er with bristly hair: Some tall and straight, some bowed and bent With every foul disfigurement: All black and fierce with eyes of fire, Ruthless and stern and swift to ire: Some with the jackal's jaw and nose, Some faced like boars and buffaloes: Some with the heads of goats and kine, Of elephants, and dogs, and swine: With lions' lips and horses' brows, They walked with feet of mules and cows: Swords, maces, clubs, and spears they bore In hideous hands that reeked with gore, And, never sated, turned afresh To bowls of wine and piles of flesh. Such were the awful guards who stood Round Sita in that lovely wood, While in her lonely sorrow she Wept sadly neath a spreading tree. He watched the spouse of Rama there Regardless of her tangled hair, Her jewels stripped from neck and limb, Decked only with her love of him.

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.

Their eager hearts with transport burned As to their task the heroes turned. Obedient to their father, they Through earth's recesses forced their way. With iron arms' unflinching toil Each dug a league beneath the soil. Earth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain, As emulous they plied amain Sharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar, Hard as the bolts of Indra are. Then loud the horrid clamour rose Of monsters dying neath their blows, Giant and demon, fiend and snake, That in earth's core their dwelling make. They dug, in ire that naught could stay, Through sixty thousand leagues their way, Cleaving the earth with matchless strength Till hell itself they reached at length. Thus digging searched they Jambudvip(184) With all its hills and mountains steep. Then a great fear began to shake The heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake, And all distressed in spirit went Before the Sire Omnipotent. With signs of woe in every face They sought the mighty Father's grace, And trembling still and ill at ease Addressed their Lord in words like these: "The sons of Sagar, Sire benign, Pierce the whole earth with mine on mine, And as their ruthless work they ply Innumerable creatures die. "This is the thief," the princes say, "Who stole our victim steed away. This marred the rite, and caused us ill, And so their guiltless blood they spill."

Then with the pupil Lakshman went Across the hermit settlement, And showed him Rama where he stood With Janak's daughter in the wood. The pupil then his message spake Which the kind hermit bade him take; Then led the honoured Rama thence And brought him in with reverence. As nigh the royal Rama came With Lakshman and the Maithil dame, He viewed the herds of gentle deer Roaming the garden free from fear. As through the sacred grove he trod He viewed the seat of many a God, Brahma and Agni,(429) Sun and Moon, And His who sends each golden boon;(430) Here Vishnu's stood, there Bhaga's(431) shrine, And there Mahendra's, Lord divine; Here His who formed this earthly frame,(432) His there from whom all beings came.(433) Vayu's,(434) and His who loves to hold The great noose, Varun(435) mighty-souled: Here was the Vasus'(436) shrine to see, Here that of sacred Gayatri,(437) The king of serpents(438) here had place, And he who rules the feathered race.(439) Here Kartikeya,(440) warrior lord, And there was Justice King adored. Then with disciples girt about The mighty saint himself came out: Through fierce devotion bright as flame Before the rest the Master came: And then to Lakshman, fortune blest, Rama these hasty words addressed: "Behold, Agastya's self draws near, The mighty saint, whom all revere: With spirit raised I meet my lord With richest wealth of penance stored."

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 giants bent, in rage and grief, Their eyes upon the fallen chief: Then flying wild with fear and pale To Ravan bore the mournful tale. He heard how Atikaya died, Then turned him to his lords, and cried: "Where are they now--my bravest--where, Wise to consult and prompt to dare? Where is Dhumraksha, skilled to wield All weapons in the battle field? Akampan, and Prahasta's might, And Kumbhakarna bold in fight? These, these and many a Rakshas more, Each master of the arms he bore, Who every foe in fight o'erthrew, The victors none could e'er subdue, Have perished by the might of one, The vengeful arm of Raghu's son. In vain I cast mine eyes around, No match for Rama here is found, No chief to stand before that bow Whose deadly shafts have caused our woe. Now, warriors, to your stations hence; Provide ye for the wall's defence, And be the Asoka garden, where The lady lies, your special care. Be every lane and passage barred, Set at each gate a chosen guard. And with your troops, where danger calls, Be ready to defend the walls. Each movement of the Vanars mark; Observe them when the skies grow dark; Be ready in the dead of night, And ere the morning bring the light. Taught by our loss we may not scorn These legions of the forest-born."

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.

Rama the good, in ritual trained, Pure from the bath, with thoughts restrained, Hasted those verses to repeat Which make the sacrifice complete. The hosts celestial came in view, And Rama to the cot withdrew, While a sweet sense of rapture stole Through the unequalled hero's soul. He paid the Visvedevas(332) due. And Rudra's right, and Vishnu's too, Nor wonted blessings, to protect Their new-built home, did he neglect. With voice repressed he breathed the prayer, Bathed duly in the river fair, And gave good offerings that remove The stain of sin, as texts approve. And many an altar there he made, And shrines, to suit the holy shade, All decked with woodland chaplets sweet, And fruit and roots and roasted meat, With muttered prayer, as texts require, Water, and grass and wood and fire. So Rama, Lakshman, Sita paid Their offerings to each God and shade, And entered then their pleasant cot That bore fair signs of happy lot. They entered, the illustrious three, The well-set cottage, fair to see, Roofed with the leaves of many a tree, And fenced from wind and rain: So, at their Father Brahma's call, The Gods of heaven, assembling all, To their own glorious council hall Advance in shining train. So, resting on that lovely hill, Near the fair lily-covered rill, The happy prince forgot, Surrounded by the birds and deer, The woe, the longing, and the fear That gloom the exile's lot.

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."

When Rama's deadly shaft had struck The giant in the seeming buck, The chieftain turned him from the place His homeward way again to trace. Then as he hastened onward, fain To look upon his spouse again, Behind him from a thicket nigh Rang out a jackal's piercing cry. Alarmed he heard the startling shriek That raised his hair and dimmed his cheek, And all his heart was filled with doubt As the shrill jackal's cry rang out: "Alas, some dire disaster seems Portended by the jackal's screams. O may the Maithil dame be screened From outrage of each hungry fiend! Alas, if Lakshman chanced to hear That bitter cry of woe and fear What time Maricha, as he died, With voice that mocked my accents cried, Swift to my side the prince would flee And quit the dame to succour me. Too well I see the demon band The slaughter of my love have planned. Me far from home and Sita's view The seeming deer Maricha drew. He led me far through brake and dell Till wounded by my shaft he fell, And as he sank rang out his cry, "O save me, Lakshman, or I die." May it be well with both who stayed In the great wood with none to aid, For every fiend is now my foe For Janasthan's great overthrow, And many an omen seen to-day Has filled my heart with sore dismay."

Thus Tara with the starry eyes(581) Her counsel gave with burning sighs. But Bali, by her prayers unmoved, Spurned her advice, and thus reproved: "How may this insult, scathe, and scorn By me, dear love, be tamely born? My brother, yea my foe, comes nigh And dares me forth with shout and cry. Learn, trembler! that the valiant, they Who yield no step in battle fray, Will die a thousand deaths but ne'er An unavenged dishonour bear. Nor, O my love, be thou dismayed Though Rama lend Sugriva aid, For one so pure and duteous, one Who loves the right, all sin will shun, Release me from thy soft embrace, And with thy dames thy steps retrace: Enough already, O mine own, Of love and sweet devotion shown. Drive all thy fear and doubt away; I seek Sugriva in the fray His boisterous rage and pride to still, And tame the foe I would not kill. My fury, armed with brandished trees, Shall strike Sugriva to his knees: Nor shall the humbled foe withstand The blows of my avenging hand, When, nerved by rage and pride, I beat The traitor down beneath my feet. Thou, love, hast lent thine own sweet aid, And all thy tender care displayed; Now by my life, by these who yearn To serve thee well, I pray thee turn. But for a while, dear dame, I go To come triumphant o'er the foe."

Obedient to the words he spake They hastened forth the foe to take. Swift were the cars whereon they rode, And bright their weapons flashed and glowed. They saw: they charged in wild career With sword and mace and axe and spear. From Durdhar's bow five arrows sped And quivered in the Vanar's head. He rose and roared: the fearful sound Made all the region echo round. Then from above his weight he threw On Durdhar's car that near him drew. The weight that came with lightning speed Crushed pole and axle, car and steed. It shattered Durdhar's head and neck, And left him lifeless mid the wreck. Yupaksha saw the warrior die, And Virupaksha heard his cry, And, mad for vengeance for the slain, They charged their Vanar foe again. He rose in air: they onward pressed And fiercely smote him on the breast. In vain they struck his iron frame: With eagle swoop to earth he came, Tore from the ground a tree that grew Beside him, and the demons slew. Then Bhasakama raised his spear, And Praghas with a laugh drew near, And, maddened at the sight, the two Against the undaunted Vanar flew. As from his wounds the torrents flowed, Like a red sun the Vanar showed. He turned, a mountain peak to seize With all its beasts and snakes and trees. He hurled it on the pair: and they Crushed, overwhelmed, beneath it lay.

"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."

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."

That speech of Guha Bharat heard With grief and tender pity stirred, And as his ears the story drank, Deep in his thoughtful heart it sank. His large full eyes in anguish rolled, His trembling limbs grew stiff and cold; Then fell he, like a tree uptorn, In woe too grievous to be borne. When Guha saw the long-armed chief Whose eye was like a lotus leaf, With lion shoulders strong and fair, High-mettled, prostrate in despair,-- Pale, bitterly afflicted, he Reeled as in earthquake reels a tree. But when Satrughna standing nigh Saw his dear brother helpless lie, Distraught with woe his head he bowed, Embraced him oft and wept aloud. Then Bharat's mothers came, forlorn Of their dear king, with fasting worn, And stood with weeping eyes around The hero prostrate on the ground. Kausalya, by her woe oppressed, The senseless Bharat's limbs caressed, As a fond cow in love and fear Caresses oft her youngling dear: Then yielding to her woe she said, Weeping and sore disquieted: "What torments, O my son, are these Of sudden pain or swift disease? The lives of us and all the line Depend, dear child, on only thine. Rama and Lakshman forced to flee, I live by naught but seeing thee: For as the king has past away Thou art my only help to-day. Hast thou, perchance, heard evil news Of Lakshman, which thy soul subdues, Or Rama dwelling with his spouse-- My all is he--neath forest boughs?"

"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."

The Vanar sovereign, lofty-souled, In plaintive voice his sorrows told. Then Rama spake: "Sugriva, list, All anger from thy heart dismissed, And I will tell the cause that stayed Mine arrow, and withheld the aid. In dress, adornment, port, and height, In splendour, battle-shout, and might, No shade of difference could I see Between thy foe, O King, and thee. So like was each, I stood at gaze, My senses lost in wildering maze, Nor loosened from my straining bow A deadly arrow at the foe, Lest in my doubt the shaft should send To sudden death our surest friend. O, if this hand in heedless guilt And rash resolve thy blood had spilt, Through every land, O Vanar King, My wild and foolish act would ring. Sore weight of sin on him must lie By whom a friend is made to die; And Lakshman, I, and Sita, best Of dames, on thy protection rest. On, warrior! for the fight prepare; Nor fear again thy foe to dare. Within one hour thine eye shall view My arrow strike thy foeman through; Shall see the stricken Bali lie Low on the earth, and gasp and die. But come, a badge about thee bind, O monarch of the Vanar kind, That in the battle shock mine eyes The friend and foe may recognize. Come, Lakshman, let that creeper deck With brightest bloom Sugriva's neck, And be a happy token, twined Around the chief of lofty mind."

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."

"I Rama's wife, on that sad day, By Ravan's arm was borne away, Seized, while I sat and feared no ill, By him who wears each form at will. A helpless captive, left forlorn To demons' threats and taunts and scorn, Here for my lord I weep and sigh, And worn with woe would gladly die. For what is life to me afar From Rama of the mighty car? The robber in his fruitless sin Would hope his captive's love to win. My meaner foot shall never touch The demon whom I loathe so much. The senseless fool! he knows me not, Nor the proud soul his love would blot. Yea, limb from limb will I be rent, But never to his prayer consent; Be burnt and perish in the fire, But never meet his base desire. My lord was grateful, true and wise, And looked on woe with pitying eyes; But now, recoiling from the strife He pities not his captive wife. Alone in Janasthan he slew The thousands of the Rakshas crew. His arm was strong, his heart was brave, Why comes he not to free and save? Why blame my lord in vain surmise? He knows not where his lady lies. O, if he knew, o'er land and sea His feet were swift to set me free; This Lanka, girdled by the deep, Would fall consumed, a shapeless heap, And from each ruined home would rise A Rakshas widow's groans and cries."

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."

Then Sarama replied: "I go To learn the purpose of thy foe, Soon by thy side again to stand And tell thee what the king has planned." She sped, she heard with eager ears The tyrant speak his hopes and fears, Where, gathered at their master's call, The nobles filled the council hall; Then swiftly, to her promise true, Back to the Asoka grove she flew. The lady on the grassy ground, Longing for her return, she found; Who with a gentle smile, to greet The envoy, led her to a seat. Through her worn frame a shiver ran As Sarama her tale began: "There stood the royal mother: she Besought her son to set thee free, And to her counsel, tears and prayers, The elder nobles added theirs: "O be the Maithil queen restored With honour to her angry lord, Let Janasthan's unhappy fight Be witness of the hero's might. Hanuman o'er the waters came And looked upon the guarded dame. Let Lanka's chiefs who fought and fell The prowess of the leader tell." In vain they sued, in vain she wept, His purpose still unchanged he kept, As clings the miser to his gold, He would not loose thee from his hold. No, never till in death he lies, Will Lanka's lord release his prize. Soon slain by Rama's arrows all The giants with their king will fall, And Rama to his home will lead His black-eyed queen from bondage freed."

"Yea, dearer than my noblest friends Is he on whom our hope depends. For if the Wind-God's son survive, All we though dead are yet alive. But if his precious life be fled Though living still we are but dead: He is our hope and sure relief." Thus slowly spoke the aged chief: Then to his side Hanuman came, And with low reverence named his name. Cheered by the face he longed to view The wounded chieftain lived anew. "Go forth," he cried, "O strong and brave, And in their woe the Vanars save. No might but thine, supremely great, May help us in our lost estate. The trembling bears and Vanars cheer, Calm their sad hearts, dispel their fear. Save Raghu's noble sons, and heal The deep wounds of the winged steel. High o'er the waters of the sea To far Himalaya's summits flee. Kailasa there wilt thou behold, And Rishabh, with his peaks of gold. Between them see a mountain rise Whose splendour will enchant thine eyes; His sides are clothed above, below, With all the rarest herbs that grow. Upon that mountain's lofty crest Four plants, of sovereign powers possessed, Spring from the soil, and flashing there Shed radiance through the neighbouring air. One draws the shaft: one brings again The breath of life to warm the slain; One heals each wound; one gives anew To faded cheeks their wonted hue. Fly, chieftain, to that mountain's brow And bring those herbs to save us now."

He spoke, and vanished: Rama raised His eyes with reverence meet, and praised The glorious Day-God full in view: Then armed him for the fight anew. Urged onward by his charioteer The giant's foaming steeds came near, And furious was the battle's din Where each resolved to die or win. The Rakshas host and Vanar bands Stood with their weapons in their hands, And watched in terror and dismay The fortune of the awful fray. The giant chief with rage inflamed His darts at Rama's pennon aimed; But when they touched the chariot made By heavenly hands their force was stayed. Then Rama's breast with fury swelled; He strained the mighty bow he held, And straight at Ravan's banner flew An arrow as the string he drew-- A deadly arrow swift of flight, Like some huge snake ablaze with light, Whose fury none might e'er repel,-- And, split in twain, the standard fell. At Rama's steeds sharp arrows, hot With flames of fire, the giant shot. Unmoved the heavenly steeds sustained The furious shower the warrior rained, As though soft lotus tendrils smote Each haughty crest and glossy coat. Then volleyed swift by magic art, Tree, mountain peak and spear and dart, Trident and pike and club and mace Flew hurtling straight at Rama's face. But Rama with his steeds and car Escaped the storm which fell afar Where the strange missiles, as they rushed To earth, a thousand Vanars crushed.

High rose the universal wail That mourned the monarch's death, and, pale With crushing woe, her hair unbound, Her eyes in floods of sorrow drowned, Forth from the inner chambers came With trembling feet each royal dame, Heedless of those who bade them stay They reached the field where Ravan lay; There falling by their husband's side, "Ah, King! ah dearest lord!" they cried. Like creepers shattered by the storm They threw them on his mangled form. One to his bleeding bosom crept And lifted up her voice and wept. About his feet one mourner clung, Around his neck another hung, One on the giant's severed head, Her pearly tears in torrents shed Fast as the drops the summer shower Pours down upon the lotus flower. "Ah, he whose arm in anger reared The King of Gods and Yama feared, While panic struck their heavenly train, Lies prostrate in the battle slain. Thy haughty heart thou wouldst not bend, Nor listen to each wiser friend. Ah, had the dame, as they implored, Been yielded to her injured lord, We had not mourned this day thy fall, And happy had it been for all. Then Rama and thy friends content In blissful peace their days had spent. Thine injured brother had not fled, Nor giant chiefs and Vanars bled. Yet for these woes we will not blame. Thy fancy for the Maithil dame, Fate, ruthless Fate, whom none may bend Has urged thee to thy hapless end."

The wicked queen her speech renewed, When rolling on the earth she viewed Ikshvaku's son, Ayodhya's king, For his dear Rama sorrowing: "Why, by a simple promise bound, Liest thou prostrate on the ground, As though a grievous sin dismayed Thy spirit! Why so sore afraid? Keep still thy word. The righteous deem That truth, mid duties, is supreme: And now in truth and honour's name I bid thee own the binding claim. Saivya, a king whom earth obeyed, Once to a hawk a promise made, Gave to the bird his flesh and bone, And by his truth made heaven his own.(277) Alarka, when a Brahman famed For Scripture lore his promise claimed, Tore from his head his bleeding eyes And unreluctant gave the prize. His narrow bounds prescribed restrain The Rivers' Lord, the mighty main, Who, though his waters boil and rave, Keeps faithful to the word he gave. Truth all religion comprehends, Through all the world its might extends: In truth alone is justice placed, On truth the words of God are based: A life in truth unchanging past Will bring the highest bliss at last. If thou the right would still pursue, Be constant to thy word and true: Let me thy promise fruitful see, For boons, O King, proceed from thee. Now to preserve thy righteous fame, And yielding to my earnest claim-- Thrice I repeat it--send thy child, Thy Rama, to the forest wild. But if the boon thou still deny, Before thy face, forlorn, I die."

But when Kausalyasaw that he Resolved to keep his sire's decree, While tears and sobs her utterance broke, Her very righteous speech she spoke: "Can he, a stranger yet to pain, Whose pleasant words all hearts enchain, Son of the king and me the queen, Live on the grain his hands may glean; Can he, whose slaves and menials eat The finest cakes of sifted wheat-- Can Rama in the forest live On roots and fruit which woodlands give; Who will believe, who will not fear When the sad story smites his ear, That one so dear, so noble held, Is by the king his sire expelled? Now surely none may Fate resist, Which orders all as it may list, If, Rama, in thy strength and grace, The woods become thy dwelling-place. A childless mother long I grieved, And many a sigh for offspring heaved, With wistful longing weak and worn Till thou at last, my son, wast born. Fanned by the storm of that desire Deep in my soul I felt the fire, Whose offerings flowed from weeping eyes, With fuel fed of groans and sighs, While round the flame the smoke grew hot Of tears because thou camest not. Now reft of thee, too fiery fierce The flame of woe my heart will pierce, As, when the days of spring return, The sun's hot beams the forest burn. The mother cow still follows near The wanderings of her youngling dear. So close to thine my feet shall be, Where'er thou goest following thee."

Thus Ravan's foe resolved to trace The captive to her hiding-place Through airy pathways overhead Which heavenly minstrels visited. With straining nerve and eager brows, Like some strong husband of the cows, In ready might he stood prepared For the bold task his soul has dared. O'er gem-like grass that flashed and glowed The Vanar like a lion strode. Roused by the thunder of his tread, The beasts to shady coverts fled. Tall trees he crushed or hurled aside, And every bird was terrified. Around him loveliest lilies grew, Pale pink, and red, and white, and blue, And tints of many a metal lent The light of varied ornament. Gandharvas, changing forms at will, And Yakshas roamed the lovely hill, And countless Serpent-Gods were seen Where flowers and grass were fresh and green. As some resplendent serpent takes His pastime in the best of lakes, So on the mountain's woody height The Vanar wandered with delight. Then, standing on the flowery sod, He paid his vows to saint and God. Svayambhu(788) and the Sun he prayed, And the swift Wind to lend him aid, And Indra, sovereign of the skies, To bless his hardy enterprise. Then once again the chief addressed The Vanars from the mountain crest: "Swift as a shaft from Rama's bow To Ravan's city will I go, And if she be not there will fly And seek the lady in the sky; Or, if in heaven she be not found, Will hither bring the giant bound."

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.

But other thoughts resumed their sway When Lanka's town in ruin lay; And, as his bosom felt their weight He stood a while to meditate. "What have I done?", he thought with shame, "Destroyed the town with hostile flame. O happy they whose firm control Checks the wild passion of the soul; Who on the fires of anger throw The cooling drops that check their glow. But woe is me, whom wrath could lead To do this senseless shameless deed. The town to fire and death I gave, Nor thought of her I came to save,-- Doomed by my own rash folly, doomed To perish in the flames consumed. If I, when anger drove me wild, Have caused the death of Janak's child, The kindled flame shall end my woe, Or the deep fires that burn below,(886) Or my forsaken corse shall be Food for the monsters of the sea. How can I meet Sugriva? how Before the royal brothers bow,-- I whose rash deed has madly foiled, The noble work in which we toiled? Or has her own bright virtue shed Its guardian influence round her head? She lives untouched,--the peerless dame; Flame has no fury for the flame.(887) The very fire would ne'er consent To harm a queen so excellent,-- The high-souled Rama's faithful wife, Protected by her holy life. She lives, she lives. Why should I fear For one whom Raghu's sons hold dear? Has not the pitying fire that spared The Vanar for the lady cared?"

"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."

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

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

Then Ravan's warrior chariot(994) wrought With gold and rich inlay was brought. Mid tinkling bells and weapons' clang The monarch on the chariot sprang, Which, decked with gems of every hue, Eight steeds of noble lineage drew. Mid roars of drum and shell rang out From countless throats a joyful shout. As, girt with hosts in warlike pride, Through Lanka's streets the tyrant hied. Still, louder than the roar of drums, Went up the cry "He comes, he comes, Our ever conquering lord who trod Beneath his feet both fiend and God." On to the gate the warriors swept Where Raghu's sons their station kept. When Ravan's car the portal passed The sun in heaven was overcast. Earth rocked and reeled from side to side And birds with boding voices cried. Against the standard of the king A vulture flapped his horrid wing. Big gouts of blood before him dropped, His trembling steeds in terror stopped. The hue of death was on his cheek, And scarce his flattering tongue could speak, When, terrible with flash and flame, Through murky air a meteor came. Still by the hand of Death impelled His onward way the giant held. The Vanars in the field afar Heard the loud thunder of his car. And turned with warriors' fierce delight To meet the giant in the fight. He came: his clanging bow he drew And myriads of the Vanars slew. Some through the side and heart he cleft, Some headless on the plain were left. Some struggling groaned with mangled thighs, Or broken arms or blinded eyes.

Their strength could shake the hills amain, And rend the rooted trees in twain, Disturb with their impetuous sweep The Rivers' Lord, the Ocean deep, Rend with their feet the seated ground, And pass wide floods with airy bound, Or forcing through the sky their way The very clouds by force could stay. Mad elephants that wander through The forest wilds, could they subdue, And with their furious shout could scare Dead upon earth the birds of air. So were the sylvan chieftains formed; Thousands on thousands still they swarmed. These were the leaders honoured most, The captains of the Vanar host, And to each lord and chief and guide Was monkey offspring born beside. Then by the bears' great monarch stood The other roamers of the wood, And turned, their pathless homes to seek, To forest and to mountain peak. The leaders of the monkey band By the two brothers took their stand, Sugriva, offspring of the Sun And Bali, Indra's mighty one. They both endowed with Garud's might, And skilled in all the arts of fight, Wandered in arms the forest through, And lions, snakes, and tigers, slew. But every monkey, ape, and bear Ever was Bali's special care; With his vast strength and mighty arm He kept them from all scathe and harm. And so the earth with hill, wood, seas, Was filled with mighty ones like these, Of various shape and race and kind, With proper homes to each assigned, With Rama's champions fierce and strong The earth was overspread, High as the hills and clouds, a throng With bodies vast and dread.(124)

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."

Filled by his speech with joy and pride, Rama to Lakshman thus replied: "Go then, my brother, bid adieu To all thy friends and retinue. And those two bows of fearful might, Celestial, which, at that famed rite, Lord Varun gave to Janak, king Of fair Vedeha with thee bring, With heavenly coats of sword-proof mail, Quivers, whose arrows never fail, And golden-hilted swords so keen, The rivals of the sun in sheen. Tended with care these arms are all Preserved in my preceptor's hall. With speed, O Lakshman, go, produce, And bring them hither for our use." So on a woodland life intent, To see his faithful friends he went, And brought the heavenly arms which lay By Rama's teacher stored away. And Raghu's son to Rama showed Those wondrous arms which gleamed and glowed, Well kept, adorned with many a wreath Of flowers on case, and hilt, and sheath. The prudent Rama at the sight Addressed his brother with delight: "Well art thou come, my brother dear, For much I longed to see thee here. For with thine aid, before I go, I would my gold and wealth bestow Upon the Brahmans sage, who school Their lives by stern devotion's rule. And for all those who ever dwell Within my house and serve me well, Devoted servants, true and good, Will I provide a livelihood. Quick, go and summon to this place The good Vasishtha's son, Suyajna, of the Brahman race The first and holiest one. To all the Brahmans wise and good Will I due reverence pay, Then to the solitary wood With thee will take my way."

The soul of duty, bright to see, He is the root of you and me; And all of us, who share his grief, His branches, blossom, fruit, and leaf. Now like the faithful Lakshman, we Will follow and be true as he; Our wives and kinsmen call with speed, And hasten where our lord shall lead. Yes, we will leave each well-loved spot, The field, the garden, and the cot, And, sharers of his weal and woe, Behind the pious Rama go. Our houses, empty of their stores, With ruined courts and broken doors, With all their treasures borne away. And gear that made them bright and gay: O'errun by rats, with dust o'erspread, Shrines, whence the deities have fled, Where not a hand the water pours, Or sweeps the long-neglected floors, No incense loads the evening air, No Brahmans chant the text and prayer, No fire of sacrifice is bright, No gift is known, no sacred rite; With floors which broken vessels strew, As if our woes had crushed them too-- Of these be stern Kaikeyi queen, And rule o'er homes where we have been. The wood where Rama's feet may roam Shall be our city and our home, And this fair city we forsake, Our flight a wilderness shall make. Each serpent from his hole shall hie, The birds and beasts from mountain fly, Lions and elephants in fear Shall quit the woods when we come near, Yield the broad wilds for us to range, And take our city in exchange. With Rama will we hence, content If, where he is, our days be spent."

When Rama, chief of Raghu's race, Arrived at that delightful place, He looked on Sita first, and then To Lakshman spake the lord of men: "Now first the shades of night descend Since to the wilds our steps we bend. Joy to thee, brother! do not grieve For our dear home and all we leave. The woods unpeopled seem to weep Around us, as their tenants creep Or fly to lair and den and nest, Both bird and beast, to seek their rest. Methinks Ayodhya's royal town Where dwells my sire of high renown, With all her men and dames to-night Will mourn us vanished from their sight. For, by his virtues won, they cling In fond affection to their king, And thee and me, O brave and true, And Bharat and Satrughna too. I for my sire and mother feel Deep sorrow o'er my bosom steal, Lest mourning us, oppressed with fears, They blind their eyes with endless tears. Yet Bharat's duteous love will show Sweet comfort in their hours of woe, And with kind words their hearts sustain, Suggesting duty, bliss, and gain. I mourn my parents now no more: I count dear Bharat's virtues o'er, And his kind love and care dispel The doubts I had, and all is well. And thou thy duty wouldst not shun, And, following me, hast nobly done; Else, bravest, I should need a band Around my wife as guard to stand. On this first night, my thirst to slake, Some water only will I take: Thus, brother, thus my will decides, Though varied store the wood provides."

She ceased: and Lakshman gave assent, Won by her gentle argument. So Tara's pleading, just and mild, His softening heart had reconciled. His altered mood Sugriva saw, And cast aside the fear and awe Like raiment heavy with the rain Which on his troubled soul had lain. Then quickly to the ground he threw His flowery garland, bright of hue, Which round his royal neck he wore, And, sobered, was himself once more. Then turning to the princely man In soothing words the king began: "My glory, wealth, and royal sway To other hands had passed away: But Rama to my rescue came, And gave me back my power and fame. O Lakshman, say, whose grateful heart Could nurse the hope to pay in part, By service of a life, the deed Of Rama sprung of heavenly seed? His foeman Ravan shall be slain, And Sita shall be his again. The hero's side I will not leave, But he the conquest shall achieve. What need of help has he who drew His bow, and one great arrow flew Through seven tall trees, a mountain rent, And cleft the earth with force unspent? What aid needs he who shook his bow, And at the sound the earth below With hill and wood and rooted rock Quaked feverous with the thunder shock? Yet all my legions will I bring, And follow close the warrior king Marching on his impetuous way Fierce Ravan and his hosts to slay. If I be guilty of offence, Careless through love or negligence, Let him his loyal slave forgive; For error cleaves to all who live."

Soon as his stature they beheld, Their fear and sorrow were dispelled; And joyous praises loud and long Rang out from all the Vanar throng. On the great chief their eyes they bent In rapture and astonishment, As, when his conquering foot he raised, The Gods upon Narayan(785) gazed. He stood amid the joyous crowd, Bent to the chiefs, and cried aloud: "The Wind-God, Fire's eternal friend, Whose blasts the mountain summits rend, With boundless force that none may stay, Takes where he lists his viewless way. Sprung from that glorious father, I In power and speed with him may vie, A thousand times with airy leap Can circle loftiest Meru's steep: With my fierce arms can stir the sea Till from their bed the waters flee And rush at my command to drown This land with grove and tower and town. I through the fields of air can spring Far swifter than the feathered King, And leap before him as he flies, On sounding pinions through the skies. I can pursue the Lord of Light Uprising from the eastern height, And reach him ere his course be sped With burning beams engarlanded. I will dry up the mighty main, Shatter the rocks and rend the plain. O'er earth and ocean will I bound, And every flower that grows on ground, And bloom of climbing plants shall show Strewn on the ground, the way I go, Bright as the lustrous path that lies Athwart the region of the skies.(786) The Maithil lady will I find,-- Thus speaks mine own prophetic mind,-- And cast in hideous ruin down The shattered walls of Lanka's town."

When thus Kalindi,(248) fairest dame, With reverent supplication came, To her the holy sage replied: "Born with the poison from thy side, O happy Queen, shall spring ere long An infant fortunate and strong. Then weep no more, and check thy sighs, Sweet lady of the lotus eyes." The queen, who loved her perished lord, For meet reply, the saint adored, And, of her husband long bereaved, She bore a son by him conceived. Because her rival mixed the bane To render her conception vain, And fruit unripened to destroy, Sagar(249) she called her darling boy. To Sagar Asamanj was heir: Bright Ansuman his consort bare. Ansuman's son, Dilipa famed, Begot a son Bhagirath named. From him the great Kakutstha rose: From him came Raghu, feared by foes, Of him sprang Purushadak bold, Fierce hero of gigantic mould: Kalmashapada's name he bore, Because his feet were spotted o'er.(250) From him came Sankan, and 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, The mighty lord of regions fair: Nahush begot Yayati: he, Nabhag of happy destiny. Son of Nabhag was Aja: his, The glorious Dasaratha is, Whose noble children boast to be Rama and Lakshman, whom we see. Thus do those kings of purest race Their lineage from Ikshvaku trace: Their hero lives the right maintained, Their lips with falsehood ne'er were stained. In Rama's and in Lakshman's name Thy daughters as their wives I claim, So shall in equal bands be tied Each peerless youth with peerless bride."

As thus the monarch wept and wailed, And maddening grief his heart assailed, The sun had sought his resting-place, And night was closing round apace. But yet the moon-crowned night could bring No comfort to the wretched king. As still he mourned with burning sighs And fixed his gaze upon the skies: "O Night whom starry fires adorn, I long not for the coming morn. Be kind and show some mercy: see, My suppliant hands are raised to thee. Nay, rather fly with swifter pace; No longer would I see the face Of Queen Kaikeyi, cruel, dread, Who brings this woe upon mine head." Again with suppliant hands he tried To move the queen, and wept and sighed: "To me, unhappy me, inclined To good, sweet dame, thou shouldst be kind; Whose life is well-nigh fled, who cling To thee for succour, me thy king. This, only this, is all my claim: Have mercy, O my lovely dame. None else have I to take my part, Have mercy: thou art good at heart. Hear, lady of the soft black eye, And win a name that ne'er shall die: Let Rama rule this glorious land, The gift of thine imperial hand. O lady of the dainty waist, With eyes and lips of beauty graced, Please Rama, me, each saintly priest, Bharat, and all from chief to least." She heard his wild and mournful cry, She saw the tears his speech that broke, Saw her good husband's reddened eye, But, cruel still, no word she spoke. His eyes upon her face he bent, And sought for mercy, but in vain: She claimed his darling's banishment, He swooned upon the ground again.

"Woe! woe!" from the sad monarch burst, In surging floods of grief immersed; Then swooning, with his wits astray, Upon the gold-wrought couch he lay, And Rama raised the aged king: But the stern queen, unpitying, Checked not her needless words, nor spared The hero for all speed prepared, But urged him with her bitter tongue, Like a good horse with lashes stung, She spoke her shameful speech. Serene He heard the fury of the queen, And to her words so vile and dread Gently, unmoved in mind, he said: "I would not in this world remain A grovelling thrall to paltry gain, But duty's path would fain pursue, True as the saints themselves are true. From death itself I would not fly My father's wish to gratify, What deed soe'er his loving son May do to please him, think it done. Amid all duties, Queen, I count This duty first and paramount, That sons, obedient, aye fulfil Their honoured fathers' word and will. Without his word, if thou decree, Forth to the forest will I flee, And there shall fourteen years be spent Mid lonely wilds in banishment. Methinks thou couldst not hope to find One spark of virtue in my mind, If thou, whose wish is still my lord, Hast for this grace the king implored. This day I go, but, ere we part, Must cheer my Sita's tender heart, To my dear mother bid farewell; Then to the woods, a while to dwell. With thee, O Queen, the care must rest That Bharat hear his sire's behest, And guard the land with righteous sway, For such the law that lives for aye."

Thus spoke the king in furious mood: Akampan then his speech renewed: "O listen while I tell at length The terror of the hero's strength. No power can check, no might can tame Rama, a chief of noblest fame. He with resistless shafts can stay The torrent foaming on its way. Sky, stars, and constellations, all To his fierce might would yield and fall. His power could earth itself uphold Down sinking as it sank of old.(482) Or all its plains and cities drown, Breaking the wild sea's barrier down; Crush the great deep's impetuous will, Or bid the furious wind be still. He glorious in his high estate The triple world could devastate, And there, supreme of men, could place His creatures of a new-born race. Never can mighty Rama be O'ercome in fight, my King, by thee. Thy giant host the day might win From him, if heaven were gained by sin. If Gods were joined with demons, they Could ne'er, I ween, that hero slay, But guile may kill the wondrous man; Attend while I disclose the plan. His wife, above all women graced, Is Sita of the dainty waist, With limbs to fair proportion true, And a soft skin of lustrous hue, Round neck and arm rich gems are twined: She is the gem of womankind. With her no bright Gandharvi vies, No nymph or Goddess in the skies; And none to rival her would dare 'Mid dames who part the long black hair. That hero in the wood beguile, And steal his lovely spouse the while. Reft of his darling wife, be sure, Brief days the mourner will endure."

Will find no faithful followers heed Their master in his hour of need. The friend on whom he most relies, In danger, from a monarch flies, Imperious in his high estate, Conceited, proud, and passionate; Who ne'er to state affairs attends With wholesome fear when woe impends Most weak and worthless as the grass, Soon from his sway the realm will pass. For rotting wood a use is found, For clods and dust that strew the ground, But when a king has lost his sway, Useless he falls, and sinks for aye. As raiment by another worn, As faded garland crushed and torn, So is, unthroned, the proudest king, Though mighty once, a useless thing. But he who every sense subdues And each event observant views, Rewards the good and keeps from wrong, Shall reign secure and flourish long. Though lulled in sleep his senses lie He watches with a ruler's eye, Untouched by favour, ire, and hate, And him the people celebrate. O weak of mind, without a trace Of virtues that a king should grace, Who hast not learnt from watchful spy That low in death the giants lie. Scorner of others, but enchained By every base desire, By thee each duty is disdained Which time and place require. Soon wilt thou, if thou canst not learn, Ere yet it be too late, The good from evil to discern, Fall from thy high estate." As thus she ceased not to upbraid The king with cutting speech, And every fault to view displayed, Naming and marking each, The monarch of the sons of night, Of wealth and power possessed, And proud of his imperial might, Long pondered in his breast.

"Hear me," he cried, "great chieftain, tell What in the olden time befell,-- A secret tale which, long suppressed, Lies prisoned only in my breast. One day--a day I never forget-- Fair Punjikasthala(922) I met, When, radiant as a flame of fire, She sought the palace of the Sire. In passion's eager grasp I tore From her sweet limbs the robes she wore, And heedless of her prayers and cries Strained to my breast the vanquised prize. Like Nalini(923) with soil distained, The mansion of the Sire she gained, And weeping made the outrage known To Brahma on his heavenly throne. He in his wrath pronounced a curse,-- That lord who made the universe: "If, Ravan, thou a second time Be guilty of so foul a crime, Thy head in shivers shall be rent: Be warned, and dread the punishment." Awed by the threat of vengeance still I force not Sita's stubborn will. Terrific as the sea in might: My steps are like the Storm-Gods' flight; But Rama knows not this, or he Had never sought to war with me. Where is the man would idly brave The lion in his mountain cave, And wake him when with slumbering eyes Grim, terrible as Death, he lies? No, blinded Rama knows me not: Ne'er has he seen mine arrows shot; Ne'er marked them speeding to their aim Like snakes with cloven tongues of flame. On him those arrows will I turn, Whose fiery points shall rend and burn. Quenched by my power when I assail The glory of his might shall fail, As stars before the sun grow dim And yield their feeble light to him."

But how to bring that wondrous boy His troubled thoughts will long employ, And hopeless to achieve the task He counsel of his lords will ask, And bid his priests and servants bring With honour saintly Rishyasring. But when they hear the monarch's speech, All these their master will beseech, With trembling hearts and looks of woe, To spare them, for they fear to go. And many a plan will they declare And crafty plots will frame, And promise fair to show him there, Unforced, with none to blame. On every word his lords shall say, The king will meditate, And on the third returning day Recall them to debate. Then this shall be the plan agreed, That damsels shall be sent Attired in holy hermits' weed, And skilled in blandishment, That they the hermit may beguile With every art and amorous wile Whose use they know so well, And by their witcheries seduce The unsuspecting young recluse To leave his father's cell. Then when the boy with willing feet Shall wander from his calm retreat And in that city stand, The troubles of the king shall end, And streams of blessed rain descend Upon the thirsty land. Thus shall the holy Rishyasring To Lomapad, the mighty king, By wedlock be allied; For Santa, fairest of the fair, In mind and grace beyond compare, Shall be his royal bride. He, at the Offering of the Steed, The flames with holy oil shall feed, And for King Dasaratha gain Sons whom his prayers have begged in vain." "I have repeated, Sire, thus far, The words of old Sanatkumar, In order as he spoke them then Amid the crowd of holy men." Then Dasaratha cried with joy, "Say how they brought the hermit boy."

The people, when the morn shone fair, Arose to find no Rama there. Then fear and numbing grief subdued The senses of the multitude. The woe-born tears were running fast As all around their eyes they cast, And sadly looked, but found no trace Of Rama, searching every place. Bereft of Rama good and wise, With drooping cheer and weeping eyes, Each woe-distracted sage gave vent To sorrow in his wild lament: "Woe worth the sleep that stole our sense With its beguiling influence, That now we look in vain for him Of the broad chest and stalwart limb! How could the strong-armed hero, thus Deceiving all, abandon us? His people so devoted see, Yet to the woods, a hermit, flee? How can he, wont our hearts to cheer, As a fond sire his children dear,-- How can the pride of Raghu's race Fly from us to some desert place! Here let us all for death prepare, Or on the last great journey fare;(320) Of Rama our dear lord bereft, What profit in our lives is left? Huge trunks of trees around us lie, With roots and branches sere and dry, Come let us set these logs on fire And throw our bodies on the pyre. What shall we speak? How can we say We followed Rama on his way, The mighty chief whose arm is strong, Who sweetly speaks, who thinks no wrong? Ayodhya's town with sorrow dumb, Without our lord will see us come, And hopeless misery will strike Elder, and child, and dame alike. Forth with that peerless chief we came, Whose mighty heart is aye the same: How, reft of him we love, shall we Returning dare that town to see?"