Ramayana on Leadership

When Rama heard from Bharat each Dark sorrow of his mournful speech, And tidings of his father dead, His spirits fell, his senses fled. For the sad words his brother spoke Struck on him like a thunder stroke, Fierce as the bolt which Indra throws, The victor of his Daitya foes. Raising his arms in anguish, he, As when the woodman hews a tree With its fair flowery branches crowned, Fainted and fell upon the ground. Lord of the earth to earth he sank, Helpless, as when a towering bank With sudden ruin buries deep An elephant who lay asleep. Then swift his wife and brothers flew, And water, weeping, o'er him threw. As slowly sense and strength he gained, Fast from his eyes the tears he rained, And then in accents sad and weak Kakutstha's son began to speak, And mourning for the monarch dead, With righteous words to Bharat said: "What calls me home, when he, alas, Has gone the way which all must pass? Of him, the best of kings bereft What guardian has Ayodhya left? How may I please his spirit? how Delight the high-souled monarch now, Who wept for me and went above By me ungraced with mourning love? Ah, happy brothers! you have paid Due offerings to his parting shade. E'en when my banishment is o'er, Back to my home I go no more, To look upon the widowed state Reft of her king, disconsolate. E'en then, O tamer of the foe, If to Ayodhya's town I go, Who will direct me as of old, Now other worlds our father hold? From whom, my brother, shall I hear Those words which ever charmed mine ear And filled my bosom with delight Whene'er he saw me act aright?"

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."

"Is there no way," Hanuman cried, "No passage o'er the boisterous tide? How may we lead the Vanar host In triumph to the farther coast?" "Thus," said Vibhishan, "I advise: Let Raghu's son in suppliant guise Entreat the mighty Sea to lend His succour and this cause befriend. His channels, as the wise have told, By Sagar's sons were dug of old,(932) Nor will high-thoughted Ocean scorn A prince of Sagar's lineage born."

Whoe'er this noble poem reads That tells the tale of Rama's deeds, Good as the Scriptures, he shall be From every sin and blemish free. Whoever reads the saving strain, With all his kin the heavens shall gain. Brahmans who read shall gather hence The highest praise for eloquence. The warrior, o'er the land shall reign, The merchant, luck in trade obtain; And Sudras listening(42) ne'er shall fail To reap advantage from the tale.(43)

Then, thus addressed, the saint, well pleased, The fury of his wrath appeased. The king, o'erpowered and ashamed, With many a deep-drawn sigh exclaimed: "Ah! Warriors' strength is poor and slight; A Brahman's power is truly might. This Brahman staff the hermit held The fury of my darts has quelled. This truth within my heart impressed, With senses ruled and tranquil breast My task austere will I begin, And Brahmanhood will strive to win."

Great monarchs from their presence send Their lawful sons who still offend, And welcome to the vacant place Good children of an alien race. Then, best of women, rest thou here, And Bharat's will with love revere. Obedient to thy king remain, And still thy vows of truth maintain. To the wide wood my steps I bend: Make thou thy dwelling here; See that thy conduct ne'er offend, And keep my words, my dear."

Thus by his saintly guide addressed With pleas in sweetest tones expressed, The lord of men in turn replied To wise Vasishtha by his side: "The fondest son's observance ne'er Repays the sire and mother's care: The constant love that food provides, And dress, and every need besides: Their pleasant words still soft and mild, Their nurture of the helpless child: The words which Dasaratha spake, My king and sire, I ne'er will break."

"Yea, lords like you of wisest thought, Whom happy fate has hither brought, Who vanquish ire and rule each sense, Must of our lord have audience. Reft of his kingdom, sad, forlorn, Once Bali's hate now Bali's scorn, Defeated, severed from his spouse, Wandering under forest boughs, Child of the Sun, our lord and king Sugriva will his succours bring, And all our Vanar hosts combined Will trace the dame you long to find."

But King Sugriva's ear was dulled, By love and wine and languor lulled, Nor did the words that Angad spake The slumberer from his trance awake. But soon as Raghu's son came nigh The startled Vanars raised a cry, And strove to win his grace, while dread Each anxious heart disquieted. They saw, and, as they gathered round, Rose from the mighty throng a sound Like torrents when they downward dash, Or thunder with the lightning's flash. The shouting of the Vanars broke Sugriva's slumber, and he woke: Still with the wine his eyes were red, His neck with flowers was garlanded. Roused at the voice of Angad came Two Vanar lords of rank and fame; One Yaksha, one Prabhava hight,-- Wise counsellors of gain and right. They came and raised their voices high, And told that Raghu's son was nigh: "Two brothers steadfast in their truth, Each glorious in the bloom of youth, Worthy of rule, have left the skies, And clothed their forms in men's disguise. One at thy gates, in warlike hands Holding his mighty weapon, stands. His message is the charioteer That brings the eager envoy near, Urged onward by his bold intent, And by the hest of Rama sent." The gathered Vanars saw and fled, And raised aloud their cry of dread. Son of Queen Tara, Angad ran To parley with the godlike man. Still fiery-eyed with rage and hate Stands Lakshman at the city gate, And trembling Vanars scarce can fly Scathed by the lightning of his eye. "Go with thy son, thy kith and kin, The favour of the prince to win, And bow thy reverent head that so His fiery wrath may cease to glow. What righteous Rama bids thee, do, And to thy plighted word be true."

Him Raghu's royal son, the best Of those who love the law, addressed: "False was the rover of the night, He loved the wrong and scorned the right. Yet for the fallen warrior plead The dauntless heart, the valorous deed. Let him who ne'er had brooked defeat, The chief whom Indra feared to meet, The ever-conquering lord, obtain The honours that should grace the slain." Vibhishan bade his friends prepare The funeral rites with thoughtful care. Himself the royal palace sought Whence sacred fire was quickly brought, With sandal wood and precious scents And pearl and coral ornaments. Wise Brahmans, while the tears that flowed Down their wan cheeks their sorrow sowed, Upon a golden litter laid The corpse in finest ropes arrayed. Thereon were flowers and pennons hung, And loud the monarch's praise was sung. Then was the golden litter raised, While holy fire in order blazed. And first in place Vibhishan led The slow procession of the dead, Behind, their cheeks with tears bedewed, Came sad the widowed multitude. Where, raised as Brahmans ordered, stood Piled sandal logs, and scented wood, The body of the king was set High on a deerskin coverlet. Then duly to the monarch's shade The offerings for the dead they paid, And southward on the eastern side An altar formed and fire supplied. Then on the shoulder of the dead The oil and clotted milk were shed. All rites were done as rules ordain: The sacrificial goat was slain. Next on the corpse were perfumes thrown And many a flowery wreath was strown; And with Vibhishan's ready aid Rich vesture o'er the king was laid. Then while the tears their cheeks bedewed Parched grain upon the dead they strewed; Last, to the wood, as rules require, Vibhishan set the kindling fire.

The saint, with Brahman wand, empowered By lore divine that dart devoured. Nor could the triple world withdraw Rapt gazes from that sight of awe; For as he swallowed down the dart Of Brahma, sparks from every part, From finest pore and hair-cell, broke Enveloped in a veil of smoke. The staff he waved was all aglow Like Yama's sceptre, King below, Or like the lurid fire of Fate Whose rage the worlds will desolate.

That night Trisanku underwent Sad change in shape and lineament. Next morn, an outcast swart of hue, His dusky cloth he round him drew. His hair had fallen from his head, And roughness o'er his skin was spread. Such wreaths adorned him as are found To flourish on the funeral ground. Each armlet was an iron ring: Such was the figure of the king, That every counsellor and peer, And following townsman, fled in fear.

The mighty lord drew near, assayed To win his grace, and reverence paid; And then the sainted king addressed The Brahman saint with this request: "Bought with a hundred thousand kine, Give me, O Sage, a son of thine To be a victim in the rite, And thanks the favour shall requite. For I have roamed all countries round, Nor sacrificial victim found. Then, gentle Hermit, deign to spare One child amid the number there."

Thus by the royal envoys pressed, Bharat again the band addressed: "I go with you: no long delay, A single hour I bid you stay." Thus Bharat, son of him who swayed Ayodhyas realm, his answer made, And then bespoke, his heart to please, His mother's sire in words like these: "I go to see my father, King, Urged by the envoys' summoning; And when thy soul desires to see Thy grandson, will return to thee."

So Bharat with his army spent The watches of the night content, And gladly, with the morning's light Drew near his host the anchorite. When Bharadvaja saw him stand With hand in reverence joined to hand, When fires of worship had been fed, He looked upon the prince and said: "O blameless son, I pray thee tell, Did the past night content thee well? Say if the feast my care supplied Thy host of followers gratified."

Then, when the solemn rite was o'er, Came Rama to the river shore, And offered, with his brothers' aid, Fresh tribute to his father's shade. With jujube fruit he mixed the seed Of Ingudis from moisture freed, And placed it on a spot o'erspread With sacred grass, and weeping said: "Enjoy, great King, the cake which we Thy children eat and offer thee! For ne'er do blessed Gods refuse To share the food which mortals use."

By crafty knaves these rules were framed, And to enforce men's gifts proclaimed: "Give, worship, lead a life austere, Keep lustral rites, quit pleasures here." There is no future life: be wise, And do, O Prince, as I advise. Enjoy, my lord, the present bliss, And things unseen from thought dismiss. Let this advice thy bosom move, The counsel sage which all approve; To Bharat's earnest prayer incline, And take the rule so justly thine."

Thus by the holy dame addressed Who banished envy from her breast, Her lowly reverence Sita paid, And softly thus her answer made: "No marvel, best of dames, thy speech The duties of a wife should teach; Yet I, O lady, also know Due reverence to my lord to show. Were he the meanest of the base, Unhonoured with a single grace, My husband still I ne'er would leave, But firm through all to him would cleave: Still rather to a lord like mine Whose virtues high-exalted shine, Compassionate, of lofty soul, With every sense in due control, True in his love, of righteous mind, Like a dear sire and mother kind. E'en as he ever loves to treat Kausalya with observance meet, Has his behaviour ever been To every other honoured queen. Nay, more, a sonlike reverence shows The noble Rama e'en to those On whom the king his father set His eyes one moment, to forget. Deep in my heart the words are stored, Said by the mother of my lord, When from my home I turned away In the lone fearful woods to stray. The counsel of my mother deep Impressed upon my soul I keep, When by the fire I took my stand, And Rama clasped in his my hand. And in my bosom cherished yet, My friends' advice I ne'er forget: Woman her holiest offering pays When she her husband's will obeys. Good Savitri her lord obeyed, And a high saint in heaven was made, And for the self-same virtue thou Hast heaven in thy possession now. And she with whom no dame could vie, Now a bright Goddess in the sky, Sweet Rohini the Moon's dear Queen, Without her lord is never seen: And many a faithful wife beside For her pure love is glorified."

Then Rama, having slain in fight Viradha of terrific might, With gentle words his spouse consoled, And clasped her in his loving hold. Then to his brother nobly brave The valiant prince his counsel gave: "Wild are these woods around us spread; And hard and rough the ground to tread: We, O my brother, ne'er have viewed So dark and drear a solitude: To Sarabhanga let us haste, Whom wealth of holy works has graced."

The hermit ceased: the princely two With seemly honours bade adieu: With reverential awe each youth Bowed to the saint whose word was truth, And then, dismissed with Sita, they To Panchavati took their way. Thus when each royal prince had grasped His warrior's mighty bow, and clasped His quiver to his side, With watchful eyes along the road The glorious saint Agastya showed, Dauntless in fight the brothers strode, And Sita with them hied.

Thus faithful Lakshman strove to cheer The prince with counsel wise and clear. Who, prompt to seize the pith of all, Let not that wisdom idly fall. With vigorous effort he restrained The passion in his breast that reigned, And leaning on his bow for rest His brother Lakshman thus addressed: "How shall we labour now, reflect; Whither again our search direct? Brother, what plan canst thou devise To bring her to these longing eyes?"

Then Tara softly spake to cheer The Vanars' hearts oppressed by fear: "Despair no more, your doubts dispel: Come in this ample cavern dwell. There may we live in blissful ease Mid springs and fruit and bloomy trees, Secure from every foe's assault, For magic framed the wondrous vault. Protected there we need not fear Though Rama and our king come near; Nor dread e'en him who batters down The portals of the foeman's town."(756)

Then Bali's noble son replied: "Needs must I go, whate'er betide, For, if no chief this exploit dare, What waits us all save blank despair,-- Upon the ground again to lie In hopeless misery, fast, and die? For not a hope of life I see If we neglect our king's decree." Then spoke the aged chief again: "Nay our attempt shall not be vain, For to the task will I incite A chieftain of sufficient might."

Thus calmed he King Sugriva's dread; Then gave new heart to those who fled. Fierce Indrajit, his soul on fire With pride of conquest, sought his sire, Raised reverent hands, and told him all, The battle and the princes' fall. Rejoicing at his foes' defeat Upsprang the monarch from his seat, Girt by his giant courtiers: round His warrior son his arms he wound, Close kisses on his head applied, And heard again how Rama died.

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.

To him enthralled by love, and blind, Pierced by his darts who shakes the mind,(274) Kaikeyi with remorseless breast Her grand purpose thus expressed: "O King, no insult or neglect Have I endured, or disrespect. One wish I have, and faith would see That longing granted, lord, by thee. Now pledge thy word if thou incline To listen to this prayer of mine, Then I with confidence will speak, And thou shalt hear the boon I seek."

So through the crowded inner door Sumantra, skilled in ancient lore, On to the private chambers pressed Which stood apart from all the rest. There youthful warriors, true and bold, Whose ears were ringed with polished gold, All armed with trusty bows and darts, Watched with devoted eyes and hearts. And hoary men, a faithful train, Whose aged hands held staves of cane, The ladies' guard, apparelled fair In red attire, were stationed there. Soon as they saw Sumantra nigh, Each longed his lord to gratify, And from his seat beside the door Up sprang each ancient servitor. Then to the warders quickly cried The skilled Sumantra, void of pride: "Tell Rama that the charioteer Sumantra waits for audience here." The ancient men with one accord Seeking the pleasure of their lord, Passing with speed the chamber door To Rama's ear the message bore. Forthwith the prince with duteous heed Called in the messenger with speed, For 'twas his sire's command, he knew, That sent him for the interview. Like Lord Kuvera, well arrayed, He pressed a couch of gold, Wherefrom a covering of brocade Hung down in many a fold. Oil and the sandal's fragrant dust Had tinged his body o'er Dark as the stream the spearman's thrust Drains from the wounded boar. Him Sita watched with tender care, A chouri in her hand, As Chitra,(281) ever fond in fair, Beside the Moon will stand. Him glorious with unborrowed light, A liberal lord, of sunlike might, Sumantra hailed in words like these, Well skilled in gentle courtesies, As, with joined hands in reverence raised, Upon the beauteous prince he gazed: "Happy Kausalya! Blest is she, The Mother of a son like thee. Now rise, O Rama, speed away. Go to thy sire without delay: For he and Queen Kaikeyi seek An interview with thee to speak."

But all their raptures stab me through And wake my pining love anew.(622) Now through the air no wild bird flies, Each lily shuts her weary eyes; And blooms of opening jasmin show The parting sun has ceased to glow. No captain now for conquest burns, But homeward with his host returns; For roads and kings' ambitious dreams Have vanished neath descending streams. This is the watery month(623) wherein The Samar's(624) sacred chants begin. Ashadha(625) past, now Kosal's lord(626) The harvest of the spring has stored,(627) And dwells within his palace freed From every care of pressing need. Full is the moon, and fierce and strong Impetuous Sarju(628) roars along As though Ayodhya's crowds ran out To greet their king with echoing shout. In this sweet time of ease and rest No care disturbs Sugriva's breast, The foe that marred his peace o'erthrown, And queen and realm once more his own. Alas, a harder fate is mine, Reft both of realm and queen to pine, And, like the bank which floods erode, I sink beneath my sorrow's load. Sore on my soul my miseries weigh, And these long rains our action stay, While Ravan seems a mightier foe Than I dare hope to overthrow. I saw the roads were barred by rain, I knew the hopes of war were vain; Nor could I bid Sugriva rise, Though prompt to aid my enterprise. E'en now I scarce can urge my friend On whom his house and realm depend, Who, after toil and peril past, Is happy with his queen at last. Sugriva after rest will know The hour is come to strike the blow, Nor will his grateful soul forget My succour, or deny the debt I know his generous heart, and hence Await the time with confidence When he his friendly zeal will show, And brooks again untroubled flow."(629)

"Look, look ye Vanars, and beware: That giant chief sublime in air With other four in bright array Comes armed to conquer and to slay." Soon as his warning speech they heard, The Vanar chieftains undeterred Seized fragments of the rock and trees, And made reply in words like these: "We wait thy word: the order give, And these thy foes shall cease to live. Command us, mighty King, and all Lifeless upon the earth shall fall."

Then Visvamitra, when the Blest Had sought their homes of heavenly rest, Thus, mighty Prince, his counsel laid Before the dwellers of the shade: "The southern land where now we are Offers this check our rites to bar:(240) To other regions let us speed, And ply our tasks from trouble freed. Now turn we to the distant west. To Pushkar's(241) wood where hermits rest, And there to rites austere apply, For not a grove with that can vie."

Unworthy of his mournful fate, The mighty king, unfortunate, Lay prostrate in unseemly guise, As, banished from the blissful skies, Yayati, in his evil day. His merit all exhausted, lay.(276) The queen, triumphant in the power Won by her beauty's fatal dower, Still terrible and unsubdued, Her dire demand again renewed: "Great Monarch, 'twas thy boast till now To love the truth and keep the vow; Then wherefore would thy lips refuse The promised boon 'tis mine to choose?"

Such were the words the bard addressed, With weight of sage advice impressed; And, as he heard, the hapless king Felt deeper yet his sorrow's sting. At length, all joy and comfort fled, He raised his eyes with weeping red, And, mournful for his Rama's sake, The good and glorious monarch spake: "Why seek with idle praise to greet The wretch for whom no praise is meet? Thy words mine aching bosom tear, And plunge me deeper in despair."

Thus spake the prince, and strove to cheer The sad heart of the charioteer, And then to royal Guha said These words most wise and spirited: "Guha, dear friend, it is not meet That people throng my calm retreat: For I must live a strict recluse, And mould my life by hermits' use. I now the ancient rule accept By good ascetics gladly kept. I go: bring fig-tree juice that I In matted coils my hair may tie."

When I, by love of duty stirred, That touching lamentation heard, Pierced to the heart by sudden woe, I threw to earth my shafts and bow. My heart was full of grief and dread As swiftly to the place I sped, Where, by my arrow wounded sore, A hermit lay on Sarju's shore. His matted hair was all unbound, His pitcher empty on the ground, And by the fatal arrow pained, He lay with dust and gore distained. I stood confounded and amazed: His dying eyes to mine he raised, And spoke this speech in accents stern, As though his light my soul would burn: "How have I wronged thee, King, that I Struck by thy mortal arrow die? The wood my home, this jar I brought, And water for my parents sought. This one keen shaft that strikes me through Slays sire and aged mother too. Feeble and blind, in helpless pain, They wait for me and thirst in vain. They with parched lips their pangs must bear, And hope will end in blank despair. Ah me, there seems no fruit in store For holy zeal or Scripture lore, Or else ere now my sire would know That his dear son is lying low. Yet, if my mournful fate he knew, What could his arm so feeble do? The tree, firm-rooted, ne'er may be The guardian of a stricken tree. Haste to my father, and relate While time allows, my sudden fate, Lest he consume thee as the fire Burns up the forest, in his ire. This little path, O King, pursue: My father's cot thou soon wilt view. There sue for pardon to the sage, Lest he should curse thee in his rage. First from the wound extract the dart That kills me with its deadly smart, E'en as the flushed impetuous tide Eats through the river's yielding side."

When from his pupil's lips he knew The presence of the princely two, And Sita born to fortune high. The glorious hermit made reply: "Great joy at last is mine this day That Rama hither finds his way, For long my soul has yearned to see The prince who comes to visit me. Go forth, go forth, and hither bring The royal three with welcoming: Lead Rama in and place him near: Why stands he not already here?"

No, she is slain by giants; they Have stolen or devoured their prey, Or surely at my mournful cry My darling to her lord would fly. O Lakshman, see those troops of deer: In each sad eye there gleams a tear. Those looks of woe too clearly say My consort is the giants' prey. O noblest, fairest of the fair, Where art thou, best of women, where? This day will dark Kaikeyi find Fresh triumph for her evil mind, When I, who with my Sita came Return alone, without my dame. But ne'er can I return to see Those chambers where my queen should be And hear the scornful people speak Of Rama as a coward weak. For mine will be the coward's shame Who let the foeman steal his dame. How can I seek my home, or brook Upon Videha's king to look? How listen, when he bids me tell, My wanderings o'er, that all is well? He, when I meet his eager view, Will mark that Sita comes not too, And when he hears the mournful tale His wildered sense will reel and fail. "O Dasaratha" will he cry, "Blest in thy mansion in the sky!" Ne'er to that town my steps shall bend, That town which Bharat's arms defend, For e'en the blessed homes above Would seem a waste without my love. Leave me, my brother, here, I pray; To fair Ayodhya bend thy way. Without my love I cannot bear To live one hour in blank despair. Round Bharat's neck thy fond arms twine, And greet him with these words of mine: "Dear brother, still the power retain, And o'er the land as monarch reign." With salutation next incline Before thy mother, his, and mine. Still, brother, to my words attend, And with all care each dame befriend. To my dear mother's ear relate My mournful tale and Sita's fate."

While thus the hapless monarch spoke, Paternal love his utterance broke. Then words like these the saint returned, And fury in his bosom burned: "Didst thou, O King, a promise make, And wishest now thy word to break? A son of Raghu's line should scorn To fail in faith, a man forsworn. But if thy soul can bear the shame I will return e'en as I came. Live with thy sons, and joy be thine, False scion of Kakutstha's line."

Thus gave the king command anew: Sumantra from his lord withdrew; With head in lowly reverence bent, And filled with thoughts of joy, he went. The royal street he traversed, where Waved flag and pennon to the air, And, as with joy the car he drove, He let his eyes delighted rove. On every side, where'er he came, He heard glad words, their theme the same, As in their joy the gathered folk Of Rama and the throning spoke. Then saw he Rama's palace bright And vast as Mount Kailasa's height, That glorious in its beauty showed As Indra's own supreme abode: With folding doors both high and wide; With hundred porches beautified: Where golden statues towering rose O'er gemmed and coralled porticoes. Bright like a cave in Meru's side, Or clouds through Autumn's sky that ride: Festooned with length of bloomy twine, Flashing with pearls and jewels' shine, While sandal-wood and aloe lent The mingled riches of their scent; With all the odorous sweets that fill The breezy heights of Dardar's hill. There by the gate the Saras screamed, And shrill-toned peacocks' plumage gleamed. Its floors with deftest art inlaid, Its sculptured wolves in gold arrayed, With its bright sheen the palace took The mind of man and chained the look, For like the sun and moon it glowed, And mocked Kuvera's loved abode. Circling the walls a crowd he viewed Who stood in reverent attitude, With throngs of countrymen who sought Acceptance of the gifts they brought. The elephant was stationed there, Appointed Rama's self to bear; Adorned with pearls, his brow and cheek Were sandal-dyed in many a streak, While he, in stature, bulk, and pride, With Indra's own Airavat(280) vied. Sumantra, borne by coursers fleet, Flashing a radiance o'er the street, To Rama's palace flew, And all who lined the royal road, Or thronged the prince's rich abode, Rejoiced as near he drew.

Then at the bidding of the seer Kaikeyi's strong-armed son drew near, And passed within that fair abode Which with the noblest jewels glowed. Then, as Vasishtha led the way, The councillors, in due array, Followed delighted and amazed And on the glorious structure gazed. Then Bharat, Raghu's son, drew near The kingly throne, with prince and peer, Whereby the chouri in the shade Of the white canopy was laid. Before the throne he humbly bent And honoured Rama, reverent, Then in his hand the chouri bore, And sat where sits a councillor. His ministers and household priest Sat by degrees from chief to least, Then sat the captain of the host And all the men he honoured most. Then when the saint his order gave, Each river with enchanted wave Rolled milk and curds divinely sweet Before the princely Bharat's feet; And dwellings fair on either side, With gay white plaster beautified, Their heavenly roofs were seen to lift, The Brahman Bharadvaja's gift. Then straight by Lord Kuvera sent, Gay with celestial ornament Of bright attire and jewels' shine, Came twenty thousand nymphs divine: The man on whom those beauties glanced That moment felt his soul entranced. With them from Nandan's blissful shades Came twenty thousand heavenly maids. Tumburu, Narad, Gopa came, And Sutanu, like radiant flame, The kings of the Gandharva throng, And ravished Bharat with their song. Then spoke the saint, and swift obeyed Alambusha, the fairest maid, And Misrakesi bright to view, Ramana, Pundrika too, And danced to him with graceful ease The dances of Apsarases. All chaplets that by Gods are worn, Or Chaitraratha's graves adorn, Bloomed by the saint's command arrayed On branches in Prayaga's shade. When at the saint's command the breeze Made music with the Vilva trees, To wave in rhythmic beat began The boughs of each Myrobolan, And holy fig-trees wore the look Of dancers, as their leaflets shook.

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

Take then the respite of a night And yield thee to each soft delight. Then, monarch of the Vanar race With loving arms thy friends embrace. Gifts on thy faithful lords bestow, Bid each and all farewell, and go. Show in the streets once more thy face, Install thy son to fill thy place. Dally a while with each dear dame; And then my strength thy pride shall tame For, should I smite thee drunk with wine Enamoured of those dames of thine, Beneath diseases bowed and bent, Or weak, unarmed, or negligent, My deed would merit hate and scorn As his who slays the child unborn." Then Bali's soul with rage was fired, Queen Tara and the dames retired; And slowly, with a laugh of pride, The king of Vanars thus replied: "Me, fiend, thou deemest drunk with wine: Unless thy fear the fight decline, Come, meet me in the fray, and test The spirit of my valiant breast." He spoke in wrath and high disdain; And, laying down his golden chain, Gift of his sire Mahendra, dared The demon, for the fray prepared; Seized by the horns the monster, vast As a huge hill, and held him fast, Then fiercely dragged him round and round, And, shouting, hurled him to the ground. Blood streaming from his ears, he rose, And wild with fury strove the foes. Then Bali, match for Indra's might, With every arm renewed the fight. He fought with fists, and feet, and knees, With fragments of the rock, and trees. At last the monster's strength, assailed By Sakra's(572) conquering offspring, failed. Him Bali raised with mighty strain And dashed upon the ground again; Where, bruised and shattered, in a tide Of rushing blood, the demon died. King Bali saw the lifeless corse, And bending, with tremendous force Raised the huge bulk from where it lay, And hurled it full a league away.

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

Then with his heart consumed with woe, Still brooding on his overthrow By the great saint he had defied, At every breath the monarch sighed. Forth from his home his queen he led, And to a land far southward fled. There, fruit and roots his only food, He practised penance, sense-subdued, And in that solitary spot Four virtuous sons the king begot: Havishyand, from the offering named, And Madhushyand, for sweetness famed, Maharath, chariot-borne in fight, And Dridhanetra strong of sight.

Then when the pious chief had seen Lodged in her home each widowed queen, Still with his burning grief oppressed His holy guides he thus addressed: "I go to Nandigram: adieu, This day, my lords to all of you: I go, my load of grief to bear, Reft of the son of Raghu, there. The king my sire, alas, is dead, And Rama to the forest fled; There will I wait till he, restored, Shall rule the realm, its rightful lord."

Forth from her den she came and glanced At Lakshman as he first advanced, Her eager arms to hold him spread, And "Come and be my love" she said, Then as she held him to her breast, The prince in words like these addressed: "Behold thy treasure fond and fair: Ayomukhi(516) the name I bear. In thickets of each lofty hill, On islets of each brook and rill, With me delighted shalt thou play, And live for many a lengthened day."

sixty thousand hills of gold With wondering eyes shall ye behold, Where in his glory every one Is brilliant as the morning sun. Full in the midst King Meru,(725) best Of mountains, lifts his lofty crest, On whom of yore, as all have heard, The sun well-pleased this boon conferred: "On thee, O King, on thee and thine Light, day and night, shall ever shine. Gandharvas, Gods who love thee well And on thy sacred summits dwell, Undimmed in lustre, bright and fair, The golden sheen shall ever share." The Visvas,(726) Vasus,(727) they who ride The tempest,(728) every God beside, Draw nigh to Meru's lofty crest When evening darkens in the west, And to the parting Lord of Day The homage of their worship pay, Ere yet a while, unseen of all, Behind Mount Asta's(729) peaks he fall. Wrought by the heavenly artist's care A glorious palace glitters there, And round about it sweet birds sing Where the gay trees are blossoming: The home of Varun(730) high-souled lord, Wrist-girded with his deadly cord.(731) With ten tall stems, a palm between Meru and Asta's hill is seen: Pure silver from the base it springs, And far and wide its lustre flings. Seek Ravan and the dame by brook, In pathless glen, in leafy nook On Meru's crest a hermit lives Bright with the light that penance gives: Savarni(732) is he named, renowned As Brahma's peer, with glory crowned. There bowing down in reverence speak And ask him of the dame you seek. Thus far the splendid Lord of Day Pursues through heaven his ceaseless way, Shedding on every spot his light; Then sinks behind Mount Asta's height, Thus far advance: the sunless sea Beyond is all unknown to me. Sushen of mighty arm, long tried In peril, shall your legions guide. Receive his words with high respect, And ne'er his lightest wish neglect. He is my consort's sire, and hence Deserves the utmost reverence."

The chieftain turned his glances where The legions sat in mute despair; And then to Hanuman, the best Of Vanar lords, these words addressed: "Why still, and silent, and apart, O hero of the dauntless heart? Thou keepest treasured in thy mind The laws that rule the Vanar kind, Strong as our king Sugriva, brave As Rama's self to slay or save. Through every land thy praise is heard, Famous as that illustrious bird, Arishtanemi's son,(781) the king Of every fowl that plies the wing. Oft have I seen the monarch sweep With sounding pinions o'er the deep, And in his mighty talons bear Huge serpents struggling through the air. Thy arms, O hero, match in might The ample wings he spreads for flight; And thou with him mayest well compare In power to do, in heart to dare. Why, rich in wisdom, power, and skill, O hero, art thou lingering still? An Apsaras(782) the fairest found Of nymphs for heavenly charms renowned, Sweet Punjikasthala, became A noble Vanar's wedded dame. Her heavenly title heard no more, Anjana was the name she bore, When, cursed by Gods, from heaven she fell In Vanar form on earth to dwell, New-born in mortal shape the child Of Kunjar monarch of the wild. In youthful beauty wondrous fair, A crown of flowers about her hair, In silken robes of richest dye She roamed the hills that kiss the sky. Once in her tinted garments dressed She stood upon the mountain crest, The God of Wind beside her came, And breathed upon the lovely dame. And as he fanned her robe aside The wondrous beauty that he eyed In rounded lines of breast and limb And neck and shoulder ravished him; And captured by her peerless charms He strained her in his amorous arms. Then to the eager God she cried In trembling accents, terrified: "Whose impious love has wronged a spouse So constant in her nuptial vows?"

"The high-souled king no toil has spared, But nobly for his rite prepared, How many thousand Brahmans here, From every region, far and near, Well read in holy lore, appear! How many tents, that sages screen, With wains in hundreds, here are seen! Great Brahman, let us find a place Where we may stay and rest a space." The hermit did as Rama prayed, And in a spot his lodging made, Far from the crowd, sequestered, clear, With copious water flowing near.

Then burst the people's rapture out In loud acclaim and joyful shout; And when the tumult slowly ceased The king addressed the holy priest: "Give order, Saint, with watchful heed For what the coming rite will need. This day let all things ready wait Mine eldest son to consecrate." Best of all men of second birth Vasishtha heard the lord of earth, And gave commandment to the bands Of servitors with lifted hands Who waited on their master's eye: "Now by to-morrow's dawn supply Rich gold and herbs and gems of price And offerings for the sacrifice, Wreaths of white flowers and roasted rice, And oil and honey, separate; New garments and a car of state, An elephant with lucky signs, A fourfold host in ordered lines, The white umbrella, and a pair Of chowries,(261) and a banner fair; A hundred vases, row on row, To shine like fire in splendid glow, A tiger's mighty skin, a bull With gilded horns most beautiful. All these, at dawn of coming day, Around the royal shrine array, Where burns the fire's undying ray. Each palace door, each city gate With wreaths of sandal decorate. And with the garlands' fragrant scent Let clouds of incense-smoke be blent. Let food of noble kind and taste Be for a hundred thousand placed; Fresh curds with streams of milk bedewed To feed the Brahman multitude. With care be all their wants supplied. And mid the twice-born chiefs divide Rich largess, with the early morn, And oil and curds and roasted corn. Soon as the sun has shown his light Pronounce the prayer to bless the rite, And then be all the Brahmans called And in their ordered seats installed. Let all musicians skilled to play, And dancing-girls in bright array Stand ready in the second ring Within the palace of the king. Each honoured tree, each holy shrine With leaves and flowery wreaths entwine, And here and there beneath the shade Be food prepared and presents laid.

"By whom, Kaikeyi, wast thou taught This flattering hope with ruin fraught? Have goblins seized thy soul, O dame, Who thus canst speak and feel no shame? Thy mind with sin is sicklied o'er, From thy first youth ne'er seen before. A good and loving wife wast thou, But all, alas! is altered now. What terror can have seized thy breast To make thee frame this dire request, That Bharat o'er the land may reign, And Rama in the woods remain? Turn from thine evil ways, O turn, And thy perfidious counsel spurn, If thou would fain a favour do To people, lord, and Bharat too. O wicked traitress, fierce and vile, Who lovest deeds of sin and guile, What crime or grievance dost thou see, What fault in Rama or in me? Thy son will ne'er the throne accept If Rama from his rights be kept, For Bharat's heart more firmly yet Than Rama's is on justice set. How shall I say, Go forth, and brook Upon my Rama's face to look, See his pale cheek and ashy lips Dimmed like the moon in sad eclipse? How see the plan so well prepared When prudent friends my counsels shared, All ruined, like a host laid low Beneath some foeman's murderous blow. What will these gathered princes say, From regions near and far away? "O'erlong endures the monarch's reign, or now he is a child again." When many a good and holy sage In Scripture versed, revered for age, Shall ask for Rama, what shall I Unhappy, what shall I reply? "By Queen Kaikeyi long distressed I drove him forth and dispossessed." Although herein the truth I speak, They all will hold me false and weak. What will Kausalya say when she Demands her son exiled by me? Alas! what answer shall I frame, Or how console the injured dame? She like a slave on me attends, And with a sister's care she blends A mother's love, a wife's, a friend's.

And now the night had past away; Out shone the Maker of the Day, Bringing the planetary hour And moment of auspicious power. Vasishtha, virtuous, far renowned, Whose young disciples girt him round, With sacred things without delay Through the fair city took his way. He traversed, where the people thronged, And all for Rama's coming longed, The town as fair in festive show As his who lays proud cities low.(278) He reached the palace where he heard The mingled notes of many a bird, Where crowded thick high-honoured bands Of guards with truncheons in their hands. Begirt by many a sage, elate, Vasishtha reached the royal gate, And standing by the door he found Sumantra, for his form renowned, The king's illustrious charioteer And noble counsellor and peer. To him well skilled in every part Of his hereditary art Vasishtha said: "O charioteer, Inform the king that I am here, Here ready by my side behold These sacred vessels made of gold, Which water for the rite contain From Ganga and each distant main. Here for installing I have brought The seat prescribed of fig-wood wrought, All kinds of seed and precious scent And many a gem and ornament; Grain, sacred grass, the garden's spoil, Honey and curds and milk and oil; Eight radiant maids, the best of all War elephants that feed in stall; A four-horse car, a bow and sword. A litter, men to bear their lord; A white umbrella bright and fair That with the moon may well compare; Two chouries of the whitest hair; A golden beaker rich and rare; A bull high-humped and fair to view, Girt with gold bands and white of hue; A four-toothed steed with flowing mane, A throne which lions carved sustain; A tiger's skin, the sacred fire, Fresh kindled, which the rites require; The best musicians skilled to play, And dancing-girls in raiment gay; Kine, Brahmans, teachers fill the court, And bird and beast of purest sort.

But when King Guha, ill at ease, Declared his fear in words like these, As pure as is the cloudless sky With soft voice Bharat made reply: "Suspect me not: ne'er come the time For me to plot so foul a crime! He is my eldest brother, he Is like a father dear to me. I go to lead my brother thence Who makes the wood his residence. No thought but this thy heart should frame: This simple truth my lips proclaim."

When Anasuya, virtuous-souled, Had heard the tale by Sita told, She kissed the lady's brow and laced Her loving arms around her waist. "With sweet-toned words distinct and clear Thy pleasant tale has charmed mine ear, How the great king thy father held That Maiden's Choice unparalleled. But now the sun has sunk from sight, And left the world to holy Night. Hark! how the leafy thickets sound With gathering birds that twitter round: They sought their food by day, and all Flock homeward when the shadows fall. See, hither comes the hermit band, Each with his pitcher in his hand: Fresh from the bath, their locks are wet, Their coats of bark are dripping yet. Here saints their fires of worship tend, And curling wreaths of smoke ascend: Borne on the flames they mount above, Dark as the brown wings of the dove. The distant trees, though well-nigh bare, Gloom thickened by the evening air, And in the faint uncertain light Shut the horizon from our sight. The beasts that prowl in darkness rove On every side about the grove, And the tame deer, at ease reclined Their shelter near the altars find. The night o'er all the sky is spread, With lunar stars engarlanded, And risen in his robes of light The moon is beautifully bright. Now to thy lord I bid thee go: Thy pleasant tale has charmed me so: One thing alone I needs must pray, Before me first thyself array: Here in thy heavenly raiment shine, And glad, dear love, these eyes of mine." Then like a heavenly Goddess shone Fair Sita with that raiment on. She bowed her to the matron's feet, Then turned away her lord to meet. The hero prince with joy surveyed His Sita in her robes arrayed, As glorious to his arms she came With love-gifts of the saintly dame. She told him how the saint to show Her fond affection would bestow That garland of celestial twine, Those ornaments and robes divine.

Thus Rama spoke, and took the road To Sarabhanga's pure abode. But near that saint whose lustre vied With Gods, by penance purified, With startled eyes the prince beheld A wondrous sight unparalleled. In splendour like the fire and sun He saw a great and glorious one. Upon a noble car he rode, And many a God behind him glowed: And earth beneath his feet unpressed(411) The monarch of the skies confessed. Ablaze with gems, no dust might dim The bright attire that covered him. Arrayed like him, on every side High saints their master glorified. Near, borne in air, appeared in view His car which tawny coursers drew, Like silver cloud, the moon, or sun Ere yet the day is well begun. Wreathed with gay garlands, o'er his head A pure white canopy was spread, And lovely nymphs stood nigh to hold Fair chouris with their sticks of gold, Which, waving in each gentle hand, The forehead of their monarch fanned. God, saint, and bard, a radiant ring, Sang glory to their heavenly King: Forth into joyful lauds they burst As Indra with the sage conversed. Then Rama, when his wondering eyes Beheld the monarch of the skies, To Lakshman quickly called, and showed The car wherein Lord Indra rode: "See, brother, see that air-borne car, Whose wondrous glory shines afar: Wherefrom so bright a lustre streams That like a falling sun it seems: These are the steeds whose fame we know, Of heavenly race through heaven they go: These are the steeds who bear the yoke Of Sakra,(412) Him whom all invoke. Behold these youths, a glorious band, Toward every wind a hundred stand: A sword in each right hand is borne, And rings of gold their arms adorn. What might in every broad deep chest And club-like arm is manifest! Clothed in attire of crimson hue They show like tigers fierce to view. Great chains of gold each warder deck, Gleaming like fire beneath his neck.

"How, King," cried Rama, "didst thou gain Thy lore of sea and hill and plain?" "I told thee how," Sugriva said, "From Bali's arm Mayavi fled(744) To Malaya's hill, and strove to save His life by hiding in the cave. I told how Bali sought, to kill His foe, the hollow of the hill; Nor need I, King, again unfold The wondrous tale already told. Then, wandering forth, my way I took By many a town and wood and brook. I roamed the earth from place to place, Till, like a mirror's polished face, The whole broad disk, that lies between Its farthest bounds, mine eyes had seen. I wandered first to eastern skies Where fairest trees rejoiced mine eyes, And many a cave and wooded hill Where lilies robed the lake and rill. There metal dyes that hill(745) adorn Whence springs the sun to light the morn. There, too, I viewed the Milky sea, Where nymphs of heaven delight to be. Then to the south I made my way From regions of the rising day, And roamed o'er Vindhya, where the breeze Is odorous of sandal trees. Still in my fear I found no rest: I sought the regions of the west, And gazed on Asta,(746) where the sun Sinks when his daily course is run. Then from that noblest hill I fled And to the northern country sped, Saw Himavan,(747) and Meru's steep, And stood beside the northern deep. But when, by Bali's might oppressed, E'en in those wilds I could not rest, Came Hanuman the wise and brave, And thus his prudent counsel gave: "'I told thee how Matanga(748) cursed Thy tyrant, that his head should burst In pieces, should he dare invade The precincts of that tranquil shade. There may we dwell in peace and be From thy oppressor's malice free." We went to Rishyamuka's hill, And spent our days secure from ill Where, with that curse upon his head, The cruel Bali durst not tread."

The monarch, Rama to install, With thoughtful care had ordered all, And now within his home withdrew, Dismissing first his retinue. Now all the town has heard, thought he, What joyful rite the morn will see. So turned he to her bower to cheer With the glad news his darling's ear. Majestic, as the Lord of Night, When threatened by the Dragon's might, Bursts radiant on the evening sky Pale with the clouds that wander by, So Dasaratha, great in fame, To Queen Kaikeyi's palace came. There parrots flew from tree to tree, And gorgeous peacocks wandered free, While ever and anon was heard The note of some glad water-bird. Here loitered dwarf and hump-backed maid, There lute and lyre sweet music played. Here, rich in blossom, creepers twined O'er grots with wondrous art designed, There Champac and Asoka flowers Hung glorious o'er the summer bowers, And mid the waving verdure rose Gold, silver, ivory porticoes. Through all the months in ceaseless store The trees both fruit and blossom bore. With many a lake the grounds were graced; Seats gold and silver, here were placed; Here every viand wooed the taste, It was a garden meet to vie E'en with the home of Gods on high. Within the mansion rich and vast The mighty Dasaratha passed: Not there was his beloved queen On her fair couch reclining seen. With love his eager pulses beat For the dear wife he came to meet, And in his blissful hopes deceived, He sought his absent love and grieved. For never had she missed the hour Of meeting in her sumptuous bower, And never had the king of men Entered the empty room till then. Still urged by love and anxious thought News of his favourite queen he sought, For never had his loving eyes Found her or selfish or unwise. Then spoke at length the warder maid, With hands upraised and sore afraid: "My Lord and King, the queen has sought The mourner's cell with rage distraught."

He heard the monarch, and obeyed, With ready feet that ne'er delayed, And brought before the palace gate The horses and the car of state. Then to the monarch's son he sped, And raising hands of reverence said That the light car which gold made fair, With best of steeds, was standing there. King Dasaratha called in haste The lord o'er all his treasures placed. And spoke, well skilled in place and time, His will to him devoid of crime: "Count all the years she has to live Afar in forest wilds, and give To Sita robes and gems of price As for the time may well suffice." Quick to the treasure-room he went, Charged by that king most excellent, Brought the rich stores, and gave them all To Sita in the monarch's hall. The Maithil dame of high descent Received each robe and ornament, And tricked those limbs, whose lines foretold High destiny, with gems and gold. So well adorned, so fair to view, A glory through the hall she threw: So, when the Lord of Light upsprings, His radiance o'er the sky he flings. Then Queen Kausalya spake at last, With loving arms about her cast, Pressed lingering kisses on her head, And to the high-souled lady said: "Ah, in this faithless world below When dark misfortune comes and woe, Wives, loved and cherished every day, Neglect their lords and disobey. Yes, woman's nature still is this:-- After long days of calm and bliss When some light grief her spirit tries, She changes all her love, or flies. Young wives are thankless, false in soul, With roving hearts that spurn control. Brooding on sin and quickly changed, In one short hour their love estranged. Not glorious deed or lineage fair, Not knowledge, gift, or tender care In chains of lasting love can bind A woman's light inconstant mind. But those good dames who still maintain What right, truth, Scripture, rule ordain-- No holy thing in their pure eyes With one beloved husband vies.

A hundred offerings duly wrought His rank o'er Gods for Indra bought, And mighty saints their heaven secured By torturing years on earth endured." That scoffing plea the hero spurned, And thus he spake once more, Chiding, the while his bosom burned, Javali's impious lore: "Justice, and courage ne'er dismayed, Pity for all distressed, Truth, loving honour duly paid To Brahman, God, and guest-- In these, the true and virtuous say, Should lives of men be passed: They form the right and happy way That leads to heaven at last. My father's thoughtless act I chide That gave thee honoured place, Whose soul, from virtue turned aside, Is faithless, dark, and base. We rank the Buddhist with the thief,(388) And all the impious crew Who share his sinful disbelief, And hate the right and true. Hence never should wise kings who seek To rule their people well, Admit, before their face to speak, The cursed infidel. But twice-born men in days gone by, Of other sort than thou, Have wrought good deeds, whose glories high Are fresh among us now: This world they conquered, nor in vain They strove to win the skies: The twice-born hence pure lives maintain, And fires of worship rise. Those who in virtue's path delight, And with the virtuous live,-- Whose flames of holy zeal are bright, Whose hands are swift to give, Who injure none, and good and mild In every grace excel, Whose lives by sin are undefiled, We love and honour well." Thus Rama spoke in righteous rage Javali's speech to chide, When thus again the virtuous sage In truthful words replied: "The atheist's lore I use no more, Not mine his impious creed: His words and doctrine I abhor, Assumed at time of need. E'en as I rose to speak with thee, The fit occasion came That bade me use the atheist's plea To turn thee from thine aim. The atheist creed I disavow, Unsay the words of sin, And use the faithful's language now Thy favour, Prince, to win."

"Canst thou, my brother, Indra's peer, When I thy minister am near, Thus grieve like some forsaken thing, Thou, every creature's lord and king? My vengeful shaft the fiend shall slay, And earth shall drink his blood to-day. The fury which my soul at first Upon usurping Bharat nursed, On this Viradha will I wreak As Indra splits the mountain peak. Winged by this arm's impetuous might My shaft with deadly force The monster in the chest shall smite, And fell his shattered corse."

Those marshalled legions Rama eyed, And thus to King Sugriva cried: "Now, Monarch, ere the hosts proceed, Let Suka, Ravan's spy, be freed." He spoke: the Vanar gave consent And loosed him from imprisonment: And Suka, trembling and afraid, His homeward way to Ravan made. Loud laughed the lord of Lanka's isle: "Where hast thou stayed this weary while? Why is thy plumage marred, and why Do twisted cords thy pinions tie? Say, comest thou in evil plight The victim of the Vanars' spite?"