Ramayana on Joy

Here players shone in bright attire, There dancing women swelled the quire. Each with his friend had much to say Of Rama's consecration-day: Yea, even children, as they played At cottage doors beneath the shade. The royal street with flowers was strown Which loving hands in heaps had thrown, And here and there rich incense lent Its fragrance to the garland's scent; And all was fresh and fair and bright In honour of the coming rite. With careful foresight to illume With borrowed blaze the midnight gloom, The crowds erected here and there Trees in each street gay lamps to bear. The city thus from side to side In festal guise was beautified. The people of the town who longed To view the rite together thronged, And filling every court and square Praised the good king in converse there: "Our high-souled king! He throws a grace On old Ikshvaku's royal race. He feels his years' increasing weight, And makes his son associate. Great joy to us the choice will bring Of Rama for our lord and king. The good and bad to him are known, And long will he protect his own. No pride his prudent breast may swell, Most just, he loves his brothers well, And to us all that love extends, Cherished as brothers and as friends. Long may our lord in life remain, Good Dasaratha, free from stain, By whose most gracious favour we Rama anointed king shall see."

Soon as the warriors took their rest Obeying Bharat's high behest, Thus Bharat to Satrughna spake: "A band of soldiers with thee take, And with these hunters o'er and o'er The thickets of the wood explore. With bow, sword, arrows in their hands Let Guha with his kindred bands Within this grove remaining trace The children of Kakutstha's race. And I meanwhile on foot will through This neighbouring wood my way pursue, With elders and the twice-born men, And every lord and citizen. There is, I feel, no rest for me Till Rama's face again I see, Lakshman, in arms and glory great, And Sita born to happy fate: No rest, until his cheek as bright As the fair moon rejoice my sight, No rest until I see the eye With which the lotus petals vie; Till on my head those dear feet rest With signs of royal rank impressed; None, till my kingly brother gain His old hereditary reign, Till o'er his limbs and noble head The consecrating drops be shed. How blest is Janak's daughter, true To every wifely duty, who Cleaves faithful to her husband's side Whose realm is girt by Ocean's tide! This mountain too above the rest E'en as the King of Hills is blest,-- Whose shades Kakutstha's scion hold As Nandan charms the Lord of Gold. Yea, happy is this tangled grove Where savage beasts unnumbered rove, Where, glory of the Warrior race, King Rama finds a dwelling-place."

Then Bharat to Satrughna showed The spot, and eager onward strode, First bidding Saint Vasishtha bring The widowed consorts of the king. As by fraternal love impelled His onward course the hero held, Sumantra followed close behind Satrughna with an anxious mind: Not Bharat's self more fain could be To look on Rama's face than he. As, speeding on, the spot he neared, Amid the hermits' homes appeared His brother's cot with leaves o'erspread, And by its side a lowly shed. Before the shed great heaps were left Of gathered flowers and billets cleft, And on the trees hung grass and bark Rama and Lakshman's path to mark: And heaps of fuel to provide Against the cold stood ready dried. The long-armed chief, as on he went In glory's light preeminent, With joyous words like these addressed The brave Satrughna and the rest: "This is the place, I little doubt, Which Bharadvaja pointed out, Not far from where we stand must be The woodland stream, Mandakini. Here on the mountain's woody side Roam elephants in tusked pride, And ever with a roar and cry Each other, as they meet, defy. And see those smoke-wreaths thick and dark: The presence of the flame they mark, Which hermits in the forest strive By every art to keep alive. O happy me! my task is done, And I shall look on Raghu's son, Like some great saint, who loves to treat His elders with all reverence meet."

A while they sat, each lip compressed, Then Bharat thus his chief addressed: "My mother here was made content; To me was given the government. This now, my lord, I yield to thee: Enjoy it, from all trouble free. Like a great bridge the floods have rent, Impetuous in their wild descent, All other hands but thine in vain Would strive the burthen to maintain. In vain the ass with steeds would vie, With Tarkshya,(381) birds that wing the sky; So, lord of men, my power is slight To rival thine imperial might. Great joys his happy days attend On whom the hopes of men depend, But wretched is the life he leads Who still the aid of others needs. And if the seed a man has sown, With care and kindly nurture grown, Rear its huge trunk and spring in time Too bulky for a dwarf to climb, Yet, with perpetual blossom gay, No fruit upon its boughs display, Ne'er can that tree, thus nursed in vain, Approval of the virtuous gain. The simile is meant to be Applied, O mighty-armed, to thee, Because, our lord and leader, thou Protectest not thy people now. O, be the longing wish fulfilled Of every chief of house and guild, To see again their sun-bright lord Victorious to his realm restored! As thou returnest through the crowd Let roars of elephants be loud. And each fair woman lift her voice And in her new-found king rejoice."

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."

"By changeless law our bliss and woe From ancient worth and folly flow. What fruits soe'er we cull, the seeds Were scattered by our former deeds.(602) Why mourn another's mournful fate, And weep, thyself unfortunate? Be calm, O thou whose heart is wise, For none deserves another's sighs. Look up, with idle sorrow strive: Thy child, his heir, is yet alive. Let needful rites be duly done, Nor in thy woe forget thy son. Regard the law which all obey: They spring to life, they pass away. Begin the task that bids thee rise, And stay these tears, for thou art wise. Our lord the king is doomed to die, On whom ten million hearts rely. Kind, liberal, patient, true, and just Was he in whom they place their trust, And now he seeks the land of those Who for the right subdue their foes. Each Vanar lord with all his train, Each ranger of this wild domain, And Angad here, thy darling, see A governor and friend in thee. These twain(603) whose hearts with sorrow ache The funeral rites shall undertake, And Angad by his mother's care Be king, his father's rightful heir. Now let him pay, as laws require, His sacred duty to his sire, Nor one solemnity omit Of all that mighty kings befit. And when thy fond eye sees thine own Dear Angad on his father's throne, Then, lightened of its load of pain, Thy spirit will have rest again."

Then in sweet accents low and mild The Vanar spoke to Janak's child: "A noble king, by sin unstained, The mighty Dasaratha reigned. Lord of the warrior's car and steed, The pride of old Ikshvaku's seed. A faithful friend, a blameless king, Protector of each living thing. A glorious monarch, strong to save, Blest with the bliss he freely gave. His son, the best of all who know The science of the bended bow, Was moon-bright Rama, brave and strong, Who loved the right and loathed the wrong, Who ne'er from kingly duty swerved, Loved by the lands his might preserved. His feet the path of law pursued; His arm rebellious foes subdued. His sire's command the prince obeyed And, banished, sought the forest shade, Where with his wife and brother he Wandered a saintly devotee. There as he roamed the wilds he slew The bravest of the Rakshas crew. The giant king the prince beguiled, And stole his consort, Janak's child. Then Rama roamed the country round, And a firm friend, Sugriva, found, Lord of the Vanar race, expelled From his own realm which Bali held, He conquered Bali and restored The kingdom to the rightful lord. Then by Sugriva's high decree The Vanar legions searched for thee, Sampati's counsel bade me leap A hundred leagues across the deep. And now my happy eyes have seen At last the long-sought Maithil queen. Such was the form, the eye, the grace Of her whom Rama bade me trace."

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."

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."

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."

As thus the prince whose heart was bent On virtue told his firm intent, The good Sutikshna's joy rose high, And thus in turn he made reply: "The very thing, O Prince, which thou Hast sought, I wished to urge but now, Bid thee with wife and brother see Agastya, glorious devotee. I count this thing an omen fair That thou shouldst thus thy wish declare, And I, my Prince, will gladly teach The way Agastya's home to reach. Southward, dear son, direct thy feet Eight leagues beyond this still retreat: Agastya's hermit brother there Dwells in a home most bright and fair. 'Tis on a knoll of woody ground, With many a branching Pippal(426) crowned: There sweet birds' voices ne'er are mute, And trees are gay with flower and fruit. There many a lake gleams bright and cool, And lilies deck each pleasant pool, While swan, and crane, and mallard's wings Are lovely in the water-springs. There for one night, O Rama, stay, And with the dawn pursue thy way. Still farther, bending southward, by The thicket's edge the course must lie, And thou wilt see, two leagues from thence Agastya's lovely residence, Set in the woodland's fairest spot, All varied foliage decks the cot: There Sita, Lakshman thou, at ease May spend sweet hours neath shady trees, For all of noblest growth are found Luxuriant on that bosky ground. If it be still thy firm intent To see that saint preeminent, O mighty counsellor, this day Depart upon thine onward way."

As Rama thus the tale rehearsed, And with Sumitra's son conversed, The setting sun his last rays shed, And evening o'er the land was spread. A while the princely brothers stayed And even rites in order paid, Then to the holy grove they drew And hailed the saint with honour due. With courtesy was Rama met By that illustrious anchoret, And for one night he rested there Regaled with fruit and hermit fare. But when the night had reached its close, And the sun's glorious circle rose, The son of Raghu left his bed And to the hermit's brother said: "Well rested in thy hermit cell, I stand, O saint, to bid farewell; For with thy leave I journey hence Thy brother saint to reverence." "Go, Rama go," the sage replied: Then from the cot the chieftain hied. And while the pleasant grove he viewed, The path the hermit showed, pursued. Of every leaf, of changing hue. Plants, trees by hundreds round him grew, With joyous eyes he looked on all, Then Jak,(427) the wild rice, and Sal;(428) He saw the red Hibiscus glow, He saw the flower-tipped creeper throw The glory of her clusters o'er Tall trees that loads of blossom bore. Some, elephants had prostrate laid, In some the monkeys leapt and played, And through the whole wide forest rang The charm of gay birds as they sang. Then Rama of the lotus eye To Lakshman turned who followed nigh, And thus the hero youth impressed With Fortune's favouring signs, addressed:

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."

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."

Again the Maithil lady spoke, While tears and sobs her utterance broke: "The surest of all signs is this, To tell the tale of vanished bliss. Thus in my name to Rama speak: "Remember Chitrakuta's peak And the green margin of the rill(867) That flows beside that pleasant hill, Where thou and I together strayed Delighting in the tangled shade. There on the grass I sat with thee And laid my head upon thy knee. There came a greedy crow and pecked The meat I waited to protect And, heedless of the clods I threw, About my head in circles flew, Until by darling hunger pressed He boldly pecked me on the breast. I ran to thee in rage and grief And prayed for vengeance on the thief. Then Rama(868) from his slumber rose And smiled with pity at my woes. Upon my bleeding breast he saw The scratches made by beak and claw. He laid an arrow on his bow, And launched it at the shameless crow. That shaft, with magic power endued, The bird, where'er he flew, pursued, Till back to Raghu's son he fled And bent at Rama's feet his head.(869) Couldst thou for me with anger stirred Launch that dire shaft upon a bird, And yet canst pardon him who stole The darling of thy heart and soul? Rise up, O bravest of the brave, And come in all thy might to save. Come with the thunders of thy bow, And smite to earth the Rakshas foe."

Soon as the light of morning broke, Vibhishan from his slumber woke, And, duty guiding every thought, The palace of his brother sought. Vast as a towering hill that shows His peaks afar, that palace rose. Here stood within the monarch's gate Sage nobles skilful in debate. There strayed in glittering raiment through The courts his royal retinue, Where in wild measure rose and fell The music of the drum and shell, And talk grew loud, and many a dame Of fairest feature went and came Through doors a marvel to behold, With pearl inlaid on burning gold: Therein Gandharvas or the fleet Lords of the storm might joy to meet. He passed within the wondrous pile, Chief glory of the giants' isle: Thus, ere his fiery course be done, An autumn cloud admits the sun. He heard auspicious voices raise With loud accord the note of praise, And sages, deep in Scripture, sing Each glorious triumph of the king. He saw the priests in order stand, Curd, oil, in every sacred hand; And by them flowers were laid and grain, Due offerings to the holy train. Vibhishan to the monarch bowed, Raised on a throne above the crowd: Then, skilled in arts of soft address, He raised his voice the king to bless, And sate him on a seat where he Full in his brother's sight should be. The chieftain there, while none could hear, Spoke his true speech for Ravan's ear, And to his words of wisdom lent The force of weightiest argument:

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.

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

"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."

Heir of high bliss, my choice is made, Nor can I from my will be stayed. Doubt not; the earth will yield me roots, These will I eat, and woodland fruits; And as with thee I wander there I will not bring thee grief or care. I long, when thou, wise lord, art nigh, All fearless, with delighted eye To gaze upon the rocky hill, The lake, the fountain, and the rill; To sport with thee, my limbs to cool, In some pure lily-covered pool, While the white swan's and mallard's wings Are plashing in the water-springs. So would a thousand seasons flee Like one sweet day, if spent with thee. Without my lord I would not prize A home with Gods above the skies: Without my lord, my life to bless, Where could be heaven or happiness? Forbid me not: with thee I go The tangled wood to tread. There will I live with thee, as though This roof were o'er my head. My will for thine shall be resigned; Thy feet my steps shall guide. Thou, only thou, art in my mind: I heed not all beside. Thy heart shall ne'er by me be grieved; Do not my prayer deny: Take me, dear lord; of thee bereaved Thy Sita swears to die." These words the duteous lady spake, Nor would he yet consent His faithful wife with him to take To share his banishment. He soothed her with his gentle speech; To change her will he strove; And much he said the woes to teach Of those in wilds who rove.

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."

I mourned, by doubt and fear distressed, And greater horror seized my breast When from the cavern rolled a flood, A carnage stream of froth and blood; And from the depths a sound of fear, The roar of demons, smote mine ear; But never rang my brother's shout Triumphant in the battle rout. I closed the cavern with a block, Huge as a hill, of shattered rock. Gave offerings due to Bali's shade, And sought Kishkindha, sore dismayed. Long time with anxious care I tried From Bali's lords his fate to hide, But they, when once the tale was known, Placed me as king on Bali's throne. There for a while I justly reigned And all with equal care ordained, When joyous from the demon slain My brother Bali came again. He found me ruling in his stead, And, fired with rage, his eyes grew red. He slew the lords who made me king, And spoke keen words to taunt and sting. The kingly rank and power I held My brother's rage with ease had quelled, But still, restrained by old respect For claims of birth, the thought I checked. Thus having struck the demon down Came Bali to his royal town. With meek respect, with humble speech, His haughty heart I strove to reach. But all my arts were tried in vain, No gentle word his lips would deign, Though to the ground I bent and set His feet upon my coronet: Still Bali in his rage and pride All signs of grace and love denied."

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

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."

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

Then Matali to Rama cried: "Let other arms the day decide. Why wilt thou strive with useless toil And see his might thy efforts foil? Launch at the foe thy dart whose fire Was kindled by the Almighty Sire." He ceased: and Raghu's son obeyed: Upon his string the hero laid An arrow, like a snake that hissed. Whose fiery flight had never missed: The arrow Saint Agastya gave And blessed the chieftain's life to save That dart the Eternal Father made The Monarch of the Gods to aid; By Brahma's self on him bestowed When forth to fight Lord Indra rode. 'Twas feathered with the rushing wind; The glowing sun and fire combined To the keen point their splendour lent; The shaft, ethereal element, By Meru's hill and Mandar, pride Of mountains, had its weight supplied. He laid it on the twisted cord, He turned the point at Lanka's lord, And swift the limb-dividing dart Pierced the huge chest and cleft the heart, And dead he fell upon the plain Like Vritra by the Thunderer slain. The Rakahas host when Ravan fell Sent forth a wild terrific yell, Then turned and fled, all hope resigned, Through Lanka's gates, nor looked behind. His voice each joyous Vanar raised, And Rama, conquering Rama, praised. Soft from celestial minstrels came The sound of music and acclaim. Soft, fresh, and cool, a rising breeze Brought odours from the heavenly trees, And ravishing the sight and smell A wondrous rain of blossoms fell: And voices breathed round Raghu's son: "Champion of Gods, well done, well done."

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.

Not truth, or gift, or bended knee, Not honour, worship, lordly fee, Storms heaven and wins a blessing thence Like sonly love and reverence. Heaven, riches, grain, and varied lore, With sons and many a blessing more, All these are made their own with ease By those their elders' souls who please. The mighty-souled, who ne'er forget, Devoted sons, their filial debt, Win worlds where Gods and minstrels are, And Brahma's sphere more glorious far. Now as the orders of my sire, Who keeps the way of truth, require, So will I do, for such the way Of duty that endures for aye: To take thee, love, to Dandak's wild My heart at length is reconciled, For thee such earnest thoughts impel To follow, and with me to dwell. O faultless form from feet to brows, Come with me, as my will allows, And duty there with me pursue, Trembler, whose bright eyes thrill me through. In all thy days, come good come ill, Preserve unchanged such noble will, And thou, dear love, wilt ever be The glory of thy house and me. Now, beauteous-armed, begin the tasks The woodland life of hermits asks. For me the joys of heaven above Have charms no more without thee, love. And now, dear Sita, be not slow: Food on good mendicants bestow, And for the holy Brahmans bring Thy treasures and each precious thing. Thy best attire and gems collect, The jewels which thy beauty decked, And every ornament and toy Prepared for hours of sport and joy: The beds, the cars wherein I ride, Among our followers, next, divide."

That speech so noble which conveyed His friendly wish, the chief obeyed, With steps made swift by anxious thought The wise Suyajna's home he sought. Him in the hall of Fire(307) he found, And bent before him to the ground: "O friend, to Rama's house return, Who now performs a task most stern." He, when his noonday rites were done, Went forth with fair Sumitra's son, And came to Rama's bright abode Rich in the love which Lakshmi showed. The son of Raghu, with his dame, With joined hands met him as he came, Showing to him who Scripture knew The worship that is Agni's due. With armlets, bracelets, collars, rings, With costly pearls on golden strings, With many a gem for neck and limb The son of Raghu honoured him. Then Rama, at his wife's request, The wise Suyajna thus addressed: "Accept a necklace too to deck With golden strings thy spouse's neck. And Sita here, my friend, were glad A girdle to her gift to add. And many a bracelet wrought with care, And many an armlet rich and rare, My wife to thine is fain to give, Departing in the wood to live. A bed by skilful workmen made, With gold and various gems inlaid-- This too, before she goes, would she Present, O saintly friend, to thee. Thine be my elephant, so famed, My uncle's present, Victor named; And let a thousand coins of gold, Great Brahman, with the gift be told." Thus Rama spoke: nor he declined The noble gifts for him designed. On Rama, Lakshman, Sita he Invoked all high felicity.

From wrathful Khara's hand, whose art Well knew each vulnerable part, Four keenly-piercing arrows flew, And blood in Rama's bosom drew, With every limb distained with gore From deadly shafts which rent and tore, From Khara's clanging bowstring shots, The prince's wrath waxed wondrous hot. His hand upon his bow that best Of mighty archers firmly pressed, And from the well-drawn bowstring, true Each to its mark, six arrows flew. One quivered in the giant's head, With two his brawny shoulders bled; Three, with the crescent heads they bore, Deep in his breast a passage tore. Thirteen, to which the stone had lent The keenest point, were swiftly sent On the fierce giant, every one Destructive, gleaming like the sun. With four the dappled steeds he slew; One cleft the chariot yoke in two, One, in the heat of battle sped, Smote from the neck the driver's head. The poles were rent apart by three; Two broke the splintered axle-tree. Then from the hand of Rama, while Across his lips there came a smile, The twelfth, like thunderbolt impelled, Cut the great hand and bow it held. Then, scarce by Indra's self surpassed, He pierced the giant with the last. The bow he trusted cleft in twain, His driver and his horses slain, Down sprang the giant, mace in hand, On foot against the foe to stand. The Gods and saints in bright array Close gathered in the skies, The prince's might in battle-fray Beheld with joyful eyes. Uprising from their golden seats, Their hands in honour raised, They looked on Rama's noble feats, And blessed him as they praised.

As thus he spake in burning ire His glowing eyes were red with fire. His gentle garb aside was thrown And all his native shape was shown. Terrific, monstrous, wild, and dread As the dark God who rules the dead, His fiery eyes in fury rolled, His limbs were decked with glittering gold. Like some dark cloud the monster showed, And his fierce breast with fury glowed. The ten-faced rover of the night, With twenty arms exposed to sight, His saintly guise aside had laid And all his giant height displayed. Attired in robes of crimson dye He stood and watched with angry eye The lady in her bright array Resplendent as the dawn of day When from the east the sunbeams break, And to the dark-haired lady spake: "If thou would call that lord thine own Whose fame in every world is known, Look kindly on my love, and be Bride of a consort meet for thee. With me let blissful years be spent, For ne'er thy choice shalt thou repent. No deed of mine shall e'er displease My darling as she lives at ease. Thy love for mortal man resign, And to a worthier lord incline. Ah foolish lady, seeming wise In thine own weak and partial eyes, By what fair graces art thou held To Rama from his realm expelled? Misfortunes all his life attend, And his brief days are near their end. Unworthy prince, infirm of mind! A woman spoke and he resigned His home and kingdom and withdrew From troops of friends and retinue. And sought this forest dark and dread By savage beasts inhabited."

Then were no fires of worship fed, Thick darkness o'er the sun was spread. The cows their thirsty calves denied, And elephants flung their food aside. Trisanku,(315) Jupiter looked dread, And Mercury and Mars the red, In direful opposition met, The glory of the moon beset. The lunar stars withheld their light, The planets were no longer bright, But meteors with their horrid glare, And dire Visakhas(316) lit the air. As troubled Ocean heaves and raves When Doom's wild tempest sweeps the waves, Thus all Ayodhya reeled and bent When Rama to the forest went. And chilling grief and dark despair Fell suddenly on all men there. Their wonted pastime all forgot, Nor thought of food, or touched it not. Crowds in the royal street were seen With weeping eye and troubled mien: No more a people gay and glad, Each head and heart was sick and sad. No more the cool wind softly blew, The moon no more was fair to view, No more the sun with genial glow Cherished the world now plunged in woe. Sons, brothers, husbands, wedded wives Forgot the ties that joined their lives; No thought for kith and kin was spared, But all for only Rama cared. And Rama's friends who loved him best, Their minds disordered and distressed. By the great burthen of their woes Turned not to slumber or repose. Like Earth with all her hills bereft Of Indra's guiding care. Ayodhya in her sorrow left By him, the high souled heir, Was bowed by fear and sorrow's force, And shook with many a throe, While warrior, elephant, and horse Sent up the cry of woe.

When thus the guests their road had learned, Back to his cot the hermit turned, And Rama, Lakshman, Sita paid Their reverent thanks for courteous aid. Thus Rama spake to Lakshman, when The saint had left the lords of men: "Great store of bliss in sooth is ours On whom his love the hermit showers." As each to other wisely talked, The lion lords together walked On to Kalindi's woody shore; And gentle Sita went before. They reached that flood, whose waters flee With rapid current to the sea; Their minds a while to thought they gave And counselled how to cross the wave. At length, with logs together laid, A mighty raft the brothers made. Then dry bamboos across were tied, And grass was spread from side to side. And the great hero Lakshman brought Cane and Rose-Apple boughs and wrought, Trimming the branches smooth and neat, For Sita's use a pleasant seat. And Rama placed thereon his dame Touched with a momentary shame, Resembling in her glorious mien All-thought-surpassing Fortune's Queen. Then Rama hastened to dispose, Each in its place, the skins and bows, And by the fair Videhan laid The coats, the ornaments, and spade. When Sita thus was set on board, And all their gear was duly stored, The heroes each with vigorous hand, Pushed off the raft and left the land. When half its way the raft had made, Thus Sita to Kalindi prayed: "Goddess, whose flood I traverse now, Grant that my lord may keep his vow. For thee shall bleed a thousand kine, A hundred jars shall pour their wine, When Rama sees that town again Where old Ikshvaku's children reign."

He bore her on in rapid flight, And not a friend appeared in sight. But on a hill that o'er the wood Raised its high top five monkeys stood. From her fair neck her scarf she drew, And down the glittering vesture flew. With earring, necklet, chain, and gem, Descending in the midst of them: "For these," she thought, "my path may show, And tell my lord the way I go." Nor did the fiend, in wild alarm, Mark when she drew from neck and arm And foot the gems and gold, and sent To earth each gleaming ornament. The monkeys raised their tawny eyes That closed not in their first surprise, And saw the dark-eyed lady, where She shrieked above them in the air. High o'er their heads the giant passed Holding the weeping lady fast. O'er Pampa's flashing flood he sped And on to Lanka's city fled. He bore away in senseless joy The prize that should his life destroy, Like the rash fool who hugs beneath His robe a snake with venomed teeth. Swift as an arrow from a bow, Speeding o'er lands that lay below, Sublime in air his course he took O'er wood and rock and lake and brook. He passed at length the sounding sea Where monstrous creatures wander free,-- Seat of Lord Varun's ancient reign, Controller of the eternal main. The angry waves were raised and tossed As Ravan with the lady crossed, And fish and snake in wild unrest Showed flashing fin and gleaming crest. Then from the blessed troops who dwell In air celestial voices fell: "O ten-necked King," they cried, "attend: This guilty deed will bring thine end."

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."

Like Vasav, when his glorious form Is circled by the Gods of storm, Girt in his hall by kings he saw His car-borne Rama near him draw, Like him who rules the minstrel band Of heaven;(262) whose valour filled the land, Of mighty arm and stately pride Like a wild elephant in stride, As fair in face as that fair stone Dear to the moon, of moonbeams grown,(263) With noble gifts and grace that took The hearts of all, and chained each look, World-cheering as the Lord of Rain When floods relieve the parching plain. The father, as the son came nigh, Gazed with an ever-thirstier eye. Sumantra helped the prince alight From the good chariot passing bright, And as to meet his sire he went Followed behind him reverent. Then Rama clomb, the king to seek That terrace like Kailasa's peak, And reached the presence of the king, Sumantra closely following. Before his father's face he came, Raised suppliant hands and named his name,(264) And bowing lowly as is meet Paid reverence to the monarch's feet. But soon as Dasaratha viewed The prince in humble attitude, He raised him by the hand in haste And his beloved son embraced, Then signed him to a glorious throne, Gem-decked and golden, near his own. Then Rama, best of Raghu's line, Made the fair seat with lustre shine As when the orient sun upsprings And his pure beam on Meru flings. The glory flashed on roof and wall, And with strange sheen suffused the hall, As when the moon's pure rays are sent Through autumn's star-lit firmament. Then swelled his breast with joy and pride As his dear son the father eyed, E'en as himself more fair arrayed In some clear mirror's face displayed.

He looked upon the pile where lay The bones half-burnt and ashes grey, And uttering a piteous moan, Gave way, by anguish overthrown. Then as his tears began to well, Prostrate to earth the hero fell; So from its seat the staff they drag, And cast to earth some glorious flag. The ministers approached again The prince whom rites had freed from stain; So when Yayati fell, each seer, In pity for his fate, drew near. Satrughna saw him lying low O'erwhelmed beneath the crush of woe, And as upon the king he thought, He fell upon the earth distraught. When to his loving memory came Those noble gifts, that kingly frame, He sorrowed, by his woe distressed, As one by frenzied rage possessed: "Ah me, this surging sea of woe Has drowned us with its overflow: The source is Manthara, dire and dark, Kaikeyi is the ravening shark: And the great boons the monarch gave Lend conquering might to every wave. Ah, whither wilt thou go, and leave Thy Bharat in his woe to grieve, Whom ever 'twas thy greatest joy To fondle as a tender boy? Didst thou not give with thoughtful care Our food, our drink, our robes to wear? Whose love will now for us provide, When thou, our king and sire, hast died? At such a time bereft, forlorn, Why is not earth in sunder torn, Missing her monarch's firm control, His love of right, his lofty soul? Ah me, for Rama roams afar, My sire is where the Blessed are; How can I live deserted? I Will pass into the fire and die. Abandoned thus, I will not brook Upon Ayodhya's town to look, Once guarded by Ikshvaku's race: The wood shall be my dwelling place."

Great joy and happy fate are thine, O Lakshman, marked with each fair sign, Whose faithful footsteps follow still Thy brother in his hour of ill. And blest is Sita, nobly good, Who dwells with Rama in the wood. Ours is, alas, a doubtful fate Of Rama reft and desolate. My royal sire has gained the skies, In woods the high-souled hero lies; The state is wrecked and tempest-tossed, A vessel with her rudder lost. Yet none in secret thought has planned With hostile might to seize the land: Though forced in distant wilds to dwell, The hero's arm protects it well. Unguarded, with deserted wall, No elephant or steed in stall, My father's royal city shows Her portals open to her foes, Of bold protectors reft and bare, Defenceless in her dark despair: But still her foes the wish restrain, As men from poisoned cates refrain. I from this hour my nights will pass Couched on the earth or gathered grass, Eat only fruit and roots, and wear A coat of bark, and matted hair. I in the woods will pass, content, For him the term of banishment; So shall I still unbroken save The promise which the hero gave. While I remain for Rama there, Satrughna will my exile share, And Rama in his home again, With Lakshman, o'er Ayodhya reign, for him, to rule and guard the state, The twice-born men shall consecrate. O, may the Gods I serve incline To grant this earnest wish of mine! If when I bow before his feet And with all moving arts entreat, He still deny my prayer, Then with my brother will I live: He must, he must permission give, Roaming in forests there."

But dwelling in that lonely spot Left by the hermits pleased him not. "I met the faithful Bharat here, The townsmen, and my mother dear: The painful memory lingers yet, And stings me with a vain regret. And here the host of Bharat camped, And many a courser here has stamped, And elephants with ponderous feet Have trampled through the calm retreat." So forth to seek a home he hied, His spouse and Lakshman by his side. He came to Atri's pure retreat, Paid reverence to his holy feet, And from the saint such welcome won As a fond father gives his son. The noble prince with joy unfeigned As a dear guest he entertained, And cheered the glorious Lakshman too And Sita with observance due. Then Anasuya at the call Of him who sought the good of all, His blameless venerable spouse, Delighting in her holy vows, Came from her chamber to his side: To her the virtuous hermit cried: "Receive, I pray, with friendly grace This dame of Maithil monarchs' race:" To Rama next made known his wife, The devotee of saintliest life: "Ten thousand years this votaress bent On sternest rites of penance spent; She when the clouds withheld their rain, And drought ten years consumed the plain, Caused grateful roots and fruit to grow And ordered Ganga here to flow: So from their cares the saints she freed, Nor let these checks their rites impede, She wrought in Heaven's behalf, and made Ten nights of one, the Gods to aid:(400) Let holy Anasuya be An honoured mother, Prince, to thee. Let thy Videhan spouse draw near To her whom all that live revere, Stricken in years, whose loving mind Is slow to wrath and ever kind."

"Well have we slept, O holy lord, Honoured of thee by all adored: Now leave to journey forth we pray: These hermits urge us on our way. We haste to visit, wandering by, The ascetics' homes that round you lie, And roaming Dandak's mighty wood To view each saintly brotherhood, For thy permission now we sue, With these high saints to duty true, By penance taught each sense to tame,-- In lustre like the smokeless flame. Ere on our brows the sun can beat With fierce intolerable heat. Like some unworthy lord who wins His power by tyranny and sins, O saint, we fain would part." The three Bent humbly to the devotee. He raised the princes as they pressed His feet, and strained them to his breast; And then the chief of devotees Bespake them both in words like these: "Go with thy brother, Rama, go, Pursue thy path untouched by woe: Go with thy faithful Sita, she Still like a shadow follows thee. Roam Dandak wood observing well The pleasant homes where hermits dwell,-- Pure saints whose ordered souls adhere To penance rites and vows austere. There plenteous roots and berries grow, And noble trees their blossoms show, And gentle deer and birds of air In peaceful troops are gathered there. There see the full-blown lotus stud The bosom of the lucid flood, And watch the joyous mallard shake The reeds that fringe the pool and lake. See with delighted eye the rill Leap sparkling from her parent hill, And hear the woods that round thee lie Reecho to the peacock's cry. And as I bid thy brother, so, Sumitra's child, I bid thee go. Go forth, these varied beauties see, And then once more return to me."

"Arise, my sister; cast away This numbing terror and dismay, And straight the impious hand declare That marred those features once so fair. For who his finger tip will lay On the black snake in childish play, And unattacked, with idle stroke His poison-laden fang provoke? Ill-fated fool, he little knows Death's noose around his neck he throws, Who rashly met thee, and a draught Of life-destroying poison quaffed. Strong, fierce as death, 'twas thine to choose Thy way at will, each shape to use; In power and might like one of us: What hand has maimed and marred thee thus? What God or fiend this deed has wrought, What bard or sage of lofty thought Was armed with power supremely great Thy form to mar and mutilate? In all the worlds not one I see Would dare a deed to anger me: Not Indra's self, the Thousand-eyed, Beneath whose hand fierce Paka(459) died. My life-destroying darts this day His guilty breath shall rend away, E'en as the thirsty wild swan drains Each milk-drop that the wave retains. Whose blood in foaming streams shall burst O'er the dry ground which lies athirst, When by my shafts transfixed and slain He falls upon the battle plain? From whose dead corpse shall birds of air The mangled flesh and sinews tear, And in their gory feast delight, When I have slain him in the fight? Not God or bard or wandering ghost, No giant of our mighty host Shall step between us, or avail To save the wretch when I assail. Collect each scattered sense, recall Thy troubled thoughts, and tell me all. What wretch attacked thee in the way, And quelled thee in victorious fray?"

A guilty hope inflames thy breast His wife from Rama's home to wrest. Ah fool, the hope thou hast is vain; Thy dreams of bliss shall end in pain. If torn from all I love by thee My godlike lord no more I see, Soon will I die and end my woes, Nor live the captive of my foes. Ah fool, with blinded eyes to choose The evil and the good refuse! So the sick wretch with stubborn will Turns fondly to the cates that kill, And madly draws his lips away From medicine that would check decay. About thy neck securely wound The deadly coil of Fate is bound, And thou, O Ravan, dost not fear Although the hour of death is near. With death-doomed sight thine eyes behold The gleaming of the trees of gold,-- See dread Vaitarani, the flood That rolls a stream of foamy blood,-- See the dark wood by all abhorred-- Its every leaf a threatening sword. The tangled thickets thou shall tread Where thorns with iron points are spread. For never can thy days be long, Base plotter of this shame and wrong To Rama of the lofty soul: He dies who drinks the poisoned bowl. The coils of death around thee lie: They hold thee and thou canst not fly. Ah whither, tyrant, wouldst thou run The vengeance of my lord to shun? By his unaided arm alone Were twice seven thousand fiends o'erthrown: Yes, in the twinkling of an eye He forced thy mightiest fiends to die. And shall that lord of lion heart, Skilled in the bow and spear and dart, Spare thee, O fiend, in battle strife, The robber of his darling wife?"

The guardian goddess thus subdued, The Vanar chief his way pursued, And reached the broad imperial street Where fresh-blown flowers were bright and sweet. The city seemed a fairer sky Where cloud-like houses rose on high, Whence the soft sound of tabors came Through many a latticed window frame, And ever and anon rang out The merry laugh and joyous shout. From house to house the Vanar went And marked each varied ornament, Where leaves and blossoms deftly strung About the crystal columns hung. Then soft and full and sweet and clear The song of women charmed his ear, And, blending with their dulcet tones, Their anklets' chime and tinkling zones. He heard the Rakshas minstrel sing The praises of their matchless king; And softly through the evening air Came murmurings of text and prayer. Here moved a priest with tonsured head, And there an eager envoy sped, Mid crowds with hair in matted twine Clothed in the skins of deer and kine,-- Whose only arms, which none might blame, Were blades of grass and holy flame(806) There savage warriors roamed in bands With clubs and maces in their hands, Some dwarfish forms, some huge of size, With single ears and single eyes. Some shone in glittering mail arrayed With bow and mace and flashing blade; Fiends of all shapes and every hue, Some fierce and foul, some fair to view. He saw the grisly legions wait In strictest watch at Ravan's gate, Whose palace on the mountain crest Rose proudly towering o'er the rest, Fenced with high ramparts from the foe, And lotus-covered moats below. But Hanuman, unhindered, found Quick passage through the guarded bound, Mid elephants of noblest breed, And gilded car and neighing steed.

"Better with foes thy dwelling make, Or house thee with the venomed snake, Than live with false familiar friends Who further still thy foeman's ends. I know their treacherous mood, I know Their secret triumph at thy woe. They in their inward hearts despise The brave, the noble, and the wise, Grieve at their bliss with rancorous hate, And for their sorrows watch and wait: Scan every fault with curious eye, And each slight error magnify. Ask elephants who roam the wild How were their captive friends beguiled. "For fire," they cry, "we little care, For javelin and shaft and snare: Our foes are traitors, taught to bind The trusting creatures of their kind." Still, still, shall blessings flow from cows,(926) And Brahmans love their rigorous vows; Still woman change her restless will, And friends perfidious work us ill. What though with conquering feet I tread On every prostrate foeman's head; What though the worlds in abject fear Their mighty lord in me revere? This thought my peace of mind destroys And robs me of expected joys. The lotus of the lake receives The glittering rain that gems its leaves, But each bright drop remains apart: So is it still with heart and heart. Deceitful as an autumn cloud Which, though its thunderous voice be loud, On the dry earth no torrent sends, Such is the race of faithless friends. No riches of the bloomy spray Will tempt the wandering bee to stay That loves from flower to flower to range; And friends like thee are swift to change. Thou blot upon thy glorious line, If any giant's tongue but thine Had dared to give this base advice, He should not live to shame me twice."

Struck down with overwhelming shame She shrank within her trembling frame. Each word of Rama's like a dart Had pierced the lady to the heart; And from her sweet eyes unrestrained The torrent of her sorrows, rained. Her weeping eyes at length she dried, And thus mid choking sobs replied: "Canst thou, a high-born prince, dismiss A high-born dame with speech like this? Such words befit the meanest hind, Not princely birth and generous mind, By all my virtuous life I swear I am not what thy words declare. If some are faithless, wilt thou find No love and truth in womankind? Doubt others if thou wilt, but own The truth which all my life has shown. If, when the giant seized his prey, Within his hated arms I lay, And felt the grasp I dreaded, blame Fate and the robber, not thy dame. What could a helpless woman do? My heart was mine and still was true, Why when Hanuman sent by thee Sought Lanka's town across the sea, Couldst thou not give, O lord of men, Thy sentence of rejection then? Then in the presence of the chief Death, ready death, had brought relief, Nor had I nursed in woe and pain This lingering life, alas in vain. Then hadst thou shunned the fruitless strife Nor jeopardied thy noble life, But spared thy friends and bold allies Their vain and weary enterprise. Is all forgotten, all? my birth, Named Janak's child, from fostering earth? That day of triumph when a maid My trembling hand in thine I laid? My meek obedience to thy will, My faithful love through joy and ill, That never failed at duty's call-- O King, is all forgotten, all?"

Then with Sugriva for his guide, Came Rama to the ocean side. He smote the sea with shafts as bright As sunbeams in their summer height, And quick appeared the Rivers' King(38) Obedient to the summoning. A bridge was thrown by Nala o'er The narrow sea from shore to shore.(39) They crossed to Lanka's golden town, Where Rama's hand smote Ravan down. Vibhishan there was left to reign Over his brother's wide domain. To meet her husband Sita came; But Rama, stung with ire and shame, With bitter words his wife addressed Before the crowd that round her pressed. But Sita, touched with noble ire, Gave her fair body to the fire. Then straight the God of Wind appeared, And words from heaven her honour cleared. And Rama clasped his wife again, Uninjured, pure from spot and stain, Obedient to the Lord of Fire And the high mandate of his sire. Led by the Lord who rules the sky, The Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh, And honoured him with worthy meed, Rejoicing in each glorious deed. His task achieved, his foe removed, He triumphed, by the Gods approved. By grace of Heaven he raised to life The chieftains slain in mortal strife; Then in the magic chariot through The clouds to Nandigrama flew. Met by his faithful brothers there, He loosed his votive coil of hair: Thence fair Ayodhya's town he gained, And o'er his father's kingdom reigned. Disease or famine ne'er oppressed His happy people, richly blest With all the joys of ample wealth, Of sweet content and perfect health. No widow mourned her well-loved mate, No sire his son's untimely fate. They feared not storm or robber's hand; No fire or flood laid waste the land: The Golden Age(40) had come again To bless the days of Rama's reign.

The cloudless sky was all aflame With the light of a hundred suns Where'er the shining chariots came That bore those holy ones. So flashed the air with crested snakes And fish of every hue As when the lightning's glory breaks Through fields of summer blue. And white foam-clouds and silver spray Were wildly tossed on high, Like swans that urge their homeward way Across the autumn sky. Now ran the river calm and clear With current strong and deep: Now slowly broadened to a mere, Or scarcely seemed to creep. Now o'er a length of sandy plain Her tranquil course she held; Now rose her waves and sank again, By refluent waves repelled. So falling first on Siva's head, Thence rushing to their earthly bed, In ceaseless fall the waters streamed, And pure with holy lustre gleamed. Then every spirit, sage, and bard, Condemned to earth by sentence hard, Pressed eagerly around the tide That Siva's touch had sanctified. Then they whom heavenly doom had hurled, Accursed, to this lower world, Touched the pure wave, and freed from sin Resought the skies and entered in. And all the world was glad, whereon The glorious water flowed and shone, For sin and stain were banished thence By the sweet river's influence. First, in a car of heavenly frame, The royal saint of deathless name, Bhagirath, very glorious rode, And after him fair Ganga flowed. God, sage, and bard, the chief in place Of spirits and the Naga race, Nymph, giant, fiend, in long array Sped where Bhagirath led the way; And all the hosts the flood that swim Followed the stream that followed him. Where'er the great Bhagirath led, There ever glorious Ganga fled, The best of floods, the rivers' queen, Whose waters wash the wicked clean.

Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir Preceded by the General Sire, Met in the air and gazed below On Rama with that wondrous bow. Nymph, minstrel, angel, all were there, Snake-God, and spirit of the air, Giant, and bard, and gryphon, met, Their eyes upon the marvel set. In senseless hush the world was chained While Rama's hand the bow retained, And Jamadagni's son amazed And powerless on the hero gazed. Then when his swelling heart had shrunk, And his proud strength in torpor sunk, Scarce his voice ventured, low and weak, To Rama lotus-eyed, to speak: "When long ago I gave away The whole broad land to Kasyap's sway He charged me never to remain Within the limits of his reign. Obedient to my guide's behest On earth by night I never rest. My choice is made, I will not dim Mine honour and be false to him. So, son of Raghu, leave me still The power to wander where I will, And swifter than the thought my flight Shall place me on Mahendra's height. My mansions of eternal joy, By penance won, thou mayst destroy, My path to these thy shaft may stay. Now to the work! No more delay! I know thee Lord of Gods; I know Thy changeless might laid Madhu low. All other hands would surely fail To bend this bow. All hail! all hail! See! all the Gods have left the skies To bend on thee their eager eyes, With whose achievements none compete, Whose arm in war no God can meet. No shame is mine, I ween, for thou, Lord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow. Now, pious Rama, 'tis thy part To shoot afar that glorious dart: I, when the fatal shaft is shot, Will seek that hill and tarry not."

Soon as he heard the high behest The driver of the chariot pressed Within the chambers of the king, His lord with praises honouring. And none of all the warders checked His entrance for their great respect Of him well known, in place so high, Still fain their king to gratify. He stood beside the royal chief, Unwitting of his deadly grief, And with sweet words began to sing The praises of his lord and king: "As, when the sun begins to rise, The sparkling sea delights our eyes, Wake, calm with gentle soul, and thus Give rapture, mighty King, to us. As Matali(279) this selfsame hour Sang lauds of old to Indra's power, When he the Titan hosts o'erthrew, So hymn I thee with praises due. The Vedas, with their kindred lore, Brahma their soul-born Lord adore, With all the doctrines of the wise, And bid him, as I bid thee, rise. As, with the moon, the Lord of Day Wakes with the splendour of his ray Prolific Earth, who neath him lies, So, mighty King, I bid thee rise. With blissful words, O Lord of men, Rise, radiant in thy form, as when The sun ascending darts his light From Meru's everlasting height. May Siva, Agni, Sun, and Moon Bestow on thee each choicest boon, Kuvera, Varuna, Indra bless Kakutstha's son with all success. Awake, the holy night is fled, The happy light abroad is spread; Awake, O best of kings, and share The glorious task that claims thy care. The holy sage Vasishtha waits, With all his Brahmans, at the gate. Give thy decree, without delay, To consecrate thy son today. As armies, by no captain led, As flocks that feed unshepherded, Such is the fortune of a state Without a king and desolate."

"What foe in friendly guise is he Who spoke of Sita's name to thee? Who is the wretch whose thought would bring Destruction on the giants' king? Whose is the evil counsel, say, That bids thee bear his wife away, And careless of thy life provoke Earth's loftiest with threatening stroke? A foe is he who dared suggest This hopeless folly to thy breast, Whose ill advice would bid thee draw The venomed fang from serpent's jaw. By whose unwise suggestion led Wilt thou the path of ruin tread? Whence falls the blow that would destroy Thy gentle sleep of ease and joy? Like some wild elephant is he That rears his trunk on high, Lord of an ancient pedigree, Huge tusks, and furious eye. Ravan, no rover of the night With bravest heart can brook, Met in the front of deadly fight, On Raghu's son to look. The giant hosts were brave and strong, Good at the bow and spear: But Rama slew the routed throng, A lion 'mid the deer. No lion's tooth can match his sword, Or arrows fiercely shot: He sleeps, he sleeps--the lion lord; Be wise and rouse him not. O Monarch of the giants, well Upon my counsel think, Lest thou for ever in the hell Of Rama's vengeance sink: A hell, where deadly shafts are sent From his tremendous-bow, While his great arms all flight prevent, Like deepest mire below: Where the wild floods of battle rave Above the foeman's head, And each with many a feathery wave Of shafts is garlanded. O, quench the flames that in thy breast With raging fury burn; And pacified and self-possessed To Lanka's town return. Rest thou in her imperial bowers With thine own wives content, And in the wood let Rama's hours With Sita still be spent."

With joy that sprang from hope restored To Rama spake the Vanar lord: "I know, by wise Hanuman taught, Why thou the lonely wood hast sought. Where with thy brother Lakshman thou Hast sojourned, bound by hermit vow; Have heard how Sita, Janak's child, Was stolen in the pathless wild, How by a roving Rakshas she Weeping was reft from him and thee; How, bent on death, the giant slew The vulture king, her guardian true, And gave thy widowed breast to know A solitary mourner's woe. But soon, dear Prince, thy heart shall be From every trace of sorrow free; For I thy darling will restore, Lost like the prize of holy lore.(558) Yea, though in heaven the lady dwell, Or prisoned in the depths of hell, My friendly care her way shall track And bring thy ransomed darling back. Let this my promise soothe thy care, Nor doubt the words I truly swear. Saints, fiends, and dwellers of the skies Shall find thy wife a bitter prize, Like the rash child who rues too late The treacherous lure of poisoned cate. No longer, Prince, thy loss deplore: Thy darling wife will I restore. 'Twas she I saw: my heart infers That shrinking form was doubtless hers, Which gaint Ravan, fierce and dread, Bore swiftly through the clouds o'erhead Still writhing in his strict embrace Like helpless queen of serpent race,(559) And from her lips that sad voice came Shrieking thine own and Lakshman's name. High on a hill she saw me stand With comrades twain on either hand. Her outer robe to earth she threw, And with it sent her anklets too. We saw the glittering tokens fall, We found them there and kept them all. These will I bring: perchance thine eyes The treasured spoils will recognize."

"King of the giant race, in me The friend and slave of Rama see. Lord of the world, he gives me power To smite thee in thy fenced tower." While through the air his challenge rang, At Ravan's face the Vanar sprang. Snatched from his head the kingly crown And dashed it in his fury down. Straight at his foe the giant flew, His mighty arms about him threw. With strength resistless swung him round And dashed him panting to the ground. Unharmed amid the storm of blows Swift to his feet Sugriva rose. Again in furious fight they met: With streams of blood their limbs were wet, Each grasping his opponent's waist. Thus with their branches interlaced, Which, crimson with the flowers of spring, From side to side the breezes swing, In furious wrestle you may see The Kinsuk and the Seemal tree.(948) They fought with fists and hands, alike Prepared to parry and to strike. Long time the doubtful combat, waged With matchless strength and fury, raged. Each fiercely struck, each guarded well, Till, closing, from the tower they fell, And, grasping each the other's throat, Lay for an instant in the moat. They rose, and each in fiercer mood The sanguinary strife renewed. Well matched in size and strength and skill They fought the dubious battle still. While sweat and blood their limbs bedewed They met, retreated, and pursued: Each stratagem and art they tried, Stood front to front and swerved aside. His hand a while the giant stayed And called his magic to his aid. But brave Sugriva, swift to know The guileful purpose of the foe, Gained with light leap the upper air, And breath and strength and spirit there; Then, joyous as for victory won, Returned to Raghu's royal son.

The seasons six in rapid flight Had circled since that glorious rite. Eleven months had passed away; 'Twas Chaitra's ninth returning day.(130) The moon within that mansion shone Which Aditi looks kindly on. Raised to their apex in the sky Five brilliant planets beamed on high. Shone with the moon, in Cancer's sign, Vrihaspati(131) with light divine. Kausalya bore an infant blest With heavenly marks of grace impressed; Rama, the universe's lord, A prince by all the worlds adored. New glory Queen Kausalya won Reflected from her splendid son. So Aditi shone more and more, The Mother of the Gods, when she The King of the Immortals(132) bore, The thunder-wielding deity. The lotus-eyed, the beauteous boy, He came fierce Ravan to destroy; From half of Vishnu's vigour born, He came to help the worlds forlorn. And Queen Kaikeyi bore a child Of truest valour, Bharat styled, With every princely virtue blest, One fourth of Vishnu manifest. Sumitra too a noble pair, Called Lakshman and Satrughna, bare, Of high emprise, devoted, true, Sharers in Vishnu's essence too. 'Neath Pushya's(133) mansion, Mina's(134) sign, Was Bharat born, of soul benign. The sun had reached the Crab at morn When Queen Sumitra's babes were born, What time the moon had gone to make His nightly dwelling with the Snake. The high-souled monarch's consorts bore At different times those glorious four, Like to himself and virtuous, bright As Proshthapada's(135) four-fold light. Then danced the nymphs' celestial throng, The minstrels raised their strain; The drums of heaven pealed loud and long, And flowers came down in rain. Within Ayodhya, blithe and gay, All kept the joyous holiday. The spacious square, the ample road With mimes and dancers overflowed, And with the voice of music rang Where minstrels played and singers sang, And shone, a wonder to behold, With dazzling show of gems and gold.

Upon fair Sarju's southern shore They now had walked a league and more, When thus the sage in accents mild To Rama said: "Beloved child, This lustral water duly touch: My counsel will avail thee much. Forget not all the words I say, Nor let the occasion slip away. Lo, with two spells I thee invest, The mighty and the mightiest. O'er thee fatigue shall ne'er prevail, Nor age or change thy limbs assail. Thee powers of darkness ne'er shall smite In tranquil sleep or wild delight. No one is there in all the land Thine equal for the vigorous hand. Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell, Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell. None in the world with thee shall vie, O sinless one, in apt reply, In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact, Wisdom to plan and skill to act. This double science take, and gain Glory that shall for aye remain. Wisdom and judgment spring from each Of these fair spells whose use I teach. Hunger and thirst unknown to thee, High in the worlds thy rank shall be. For these two spells with might endued, Are the Great Father's heavenly brood, And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace, Thou glory of Kakutstha's race. Virtues which none can match are thine, Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine, And now these spells of might shall cast Fresh radiance o'er the gifts thou hast." Then Rama duly touched the wave, Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head, And took the spells the hermit gave, Whose soul on contemplation fed. From him whose might these gifts enhanced, A brighter beam of glory glanced: So shines in all his autumn blaze The Day-God of the thousand rays. The hermit's wants those youths supplied, As pupils use to holy guide. And then the night in sweet content On Sarju's pleasant bank they spent.

Then while the dust upon him hung, The monarch to Kausalya clung, And she with mournful steps and slow Turned to the palace, worn with woe. As one whose hand has touched the fire, Or slain a Brahman in his ire, He felt his heart with sorrow torn Still thinking of his son forlorn. Each step was torture, as the road The traces of the chariot showed, And as the shadowed sun grows dim So care and anguish darkened him. He raised a cry, by woe distraught, As of his son again he thought. And judging that the car had sped Beyond the city, thus he said: "I still behold the foot-prints made By the good horses that conveyed My son afar: these marks I see, But high-souled Rama, where is he? Ah me, my son! my first and best, On pleasant couches wont to rest, With limbs perfumed with sandal, fanned By many a beauty's tender hand: Where will he lie with log or stone Beneath him for a pillow thrown, To leave at morn his earthy bed, Neglected, and with dust o'erspread, As from the flood with sigh and pant Comes forth the husband elephant? The men who make the woods their home Shall see the long-armed hero roam Roused from his bed, though lord of all, In semblance of a friendless thrall. Janak's dear child who ne'er has met With aught save joy and comfort yet, Will reach to-day the forest, worn And wearied with the brakes of thorn. Ah, gentle girl, of woods unskilled, How will her heart with dread be filled At the wild beasts' deep roaring there, Whose voices lift the shuddering hair! Kaikeyi, glory in thy gain, And, widow queen, begin to reign: No will, no power to live have I When my brave son no more is nigh."

With ample stores of food supplied, Each to his home the envoys hied, Prepared, with steeds of swiftest race, To Kekaya's land(340) their way to trace. They made all due provision there, And every need arranged with care, Then ordered by Vasishtha, they Went forth with speed upon their way. Then northward of Pralamba, west Of Apartala, on they pressed, Crossing the Malini that flowed With gentle stream athwart the road. They traversed Ganga's holy waves Where she Hastinapura(341) laves, Thence to Panchala(342) westward fast Through Kurujangal's land(343) they passed. On, on their course the envoys held By urgency of task impelled. Quick glancing at each lucid flood And sweet lake gay with flower and bud. Beyond, they passed unwearied o'er, Where glad birds fill the flood and shore Of Saradanda racing fleet With heavenly water clear and sweet, Thereby a tree celestial grows Which every boon on prayer bestows: To its blest shade they humbly bent, Then to Kulinga's town they went. Then, having passed the Warrior's Wood, In Abhikala next they stood, O'er sacred Ikshumati(344) came, Their ancient kings' ancestral claim. They saw the learned Brahmans stand, Each drinking from his hollowed hand, And through Bahika(345) journeying still They reached at length Sudaman's hill: There Vishnu's footstep turned to see, Vipasa(346) viewed, and Salmali, And many a lake and river met, Tank, pool, and pond, and rivulet. And lions saw, and tigers near, And elephants and herds of deer, And still, by prompt obedience led, Along the ample road they sped. Then when their course so swift and long, Had worn their steeds though fleet and strong, To Girivraja's splendid town They came by night, and lighted down. To please their master, and to guard The royal race, the lineal right, The envoys, spent with riding hard, To that fair city came by night.(347)

Thus Rama spoke, in battle tried, And thus Sumitra's son replied: "Come, brother, come, and speed away: My spirit brooks no more delay." Thus spake Sumitra's son, and then Forth from the grove the king of men With his dear brother by his side To Pampa's lucid waters hied. He gazed upon the woods where grew Trees rich in flowers of every hue. From brake and dell on every side The curlew and the peacock cried, And flocks of screaming parrots made Shrill music in the bloomy shade. His eager eyes, as on he went, On many a pool and tree were bent. Inflamed with love he journeyed on Till a fair flood before him shone. He stood upon the water's side Which streams from distant hills supplied: Matanga's name that water bore: There bathed he from the shelving shore. Then, each on earnest thoughts intent, Still farther on their way they went. But Rama's heart once more gave way Beneath his grief and wild dismay. Before him lay the noble flood Adorned with many a lotus bud. On its fair banks Asoka glowed, And all bright trees their blossoms showed. Green banks that silver waves confined With lovely groves were fringed and lined. The crystal waters in their flow Showed level sands that gleamed below. There glittering fish and tortoise played, And bending trees gave pleasant shade. There creepers on the branches hung With lover-like embraces clung. There gay Gandharvas loved to meet, And Kinnars sought the calm retreat. There wandering Yakshas found delight, Snake-gods and rovers of the night. Cool were the pleasant waters, gay Each tree with creeper, flower, and spray. There flushed the lotus darkly red, Here their white glory lilies spread, Here sweet buds showed their tints of blue: So carpets gleam with many a hue. A grove of Mangoes blossomed nigh, Echoing with the peacock's cry.