Ramayana on Leadership

The monarch watched the sacred rite, When a vast form of awful might, Of matchless splendour, strength, and size Was manifest before his eyes. From forth the sacrificial flame, Dark, robed in red, the being came. His voice was drumlike, loud and low, His face suffused with rosy glow. Like a huge lion's mane appeared The long locks of his hair and beard. He shone with many a lucky sign, And many an ornament divine; A towering mountain in his height, A tiger in his gait and might. No precious mine more rich could be, No burning flame more bright than he. His arms embraced in loving hold, Like a dear wife, a vase of gold Whose silver lining held a draught Of nectar as in heaven is quaffed: A vase so vast, so bright to view, They scarce could count the vision true. Upon the king his eyes he bent, And said: "The Lord of life has sent His servant down, O Prince, to be A messenger from heaven to thee." The king with all his nobles by Raised reverent hands and made reply: "Welcome, O glorious being! Say How can my care thy grace repay." Envoy of Him whom all adore Thus to the king he spake once more: "The Gods accept thy worship: they Give thee the blessed fruit to-day. Approach and take, O glorious King, This heavenly nectar which I bring, For it shall give thee sons and wealth, And bless thee with a store of health. Give it to those fair queens of thine, And bid them quaff the drink divine: And they the princely sons shall bear Long sought by sacrifice and prayer."

Thus spake the Vanar prince, and, stirred With friendly thoughts, Sugriva heard. The light of joy his face o'erspread, And thus to Raghu's son he said: "O Prince, in rules of duty trained, Caring for all with love unfeigned, Hanuman's tongue has truly shown The virtues that are thine alone. My chiefest glory, gain, and bliss, O stranger Prince, I reckon this, That Raghu's son will condescend To seek the Vanar for his friend. If thou my true ally wouldst be Accept the pledge I offer thee, This hand in sign of friendship take, And bind the bond we ne'er will break."

"A stranger from the giant host, Borne o'er the sea, has reached the coast; A secret foe, he comes to slay, As owls attack their heedless prey. 'Tis thine, O King, in time of need To watch, to counsel, and to lead, Our Vanar legions to dispose, And guard us from our crafty foes. Vibhishan from the giants' isle, King Ravan's brother, comes with guile And, feigning from his king to flee, Seeks refuge, Raghu's son, with thee. Arise, O Rama, and prevent By bold attack his dark intent. Who comes in friendly guise prepared To slay thee by his arts ensnared."

Thus in the hermits' holy shade Mother and son their compact made, And then, as fame relates, content, Home to the happy skies they went. This is the spot--so men have told-- Where Lord Mahendra(215) dwelt of old, This is the blessed region where His votaress mother claimed his care. Here gentle Alambusha bare To old Ikshvaku, king and sage, Visala, glory of his age, By whom, a monarch void of guilt, Was this fair town Visala built. His son was Hemachandra, still Renowned for might and warlike skill. From him the great Suchandra came; His son, Dhumrasva, dear to fame. Next followed royal Srinjay; then Famed Sahadeva, lord of men. Next came Kusasva, good and mild, Whose son was Somadatta styled, And Sumati, his heir, the peer Of Gods above, now governs here. And ever through Ikshvaku's grace, Visala's kings, his noble race, Are lofty-souled, and blest with length Of days, with virtue, and with strength. This night, O prince, we here will sleep; And when the day begins to peep, Our onward way will take with thee, The king of Mithila to see."

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.

Thus urged, Satrughna answered: "I, Remembering Rama, sleepless lie." As thus the brothers, each to each, The lion-mettled, ended speech, Came Guha, the Nishadas' king, And spoke with kindly questioning: "Hast thou in comfort passed," he cried, "The night upon the river side? With thee how fares it? and are these, Thy soldiers, healthy and at ease?" Thus the Nishadas' lord inquired In gentle words which love inspired, And Bharat, Rama's faithful slave, Thus to the king his answer gave: "The night has sweetly passed, and we Are highly honoured, King, by thee. Now let thy servants boats prepare, Our army o'er the stream to bear."

"The prince who well his days divides, And knows aright the times and tides To follow duty, joy, or gain, He, only he, deserves to reign. But he who wealth and virtue leaves, And every hour to pleasure cleaves, Falls from his bliss like him who wakes From slumber on a branch that breaks. True king is he who smites his foes, And favour to his servants shows, And of that fruit makes timely use Which virtue, wealth, and joy produce. The hour is come that bids thee rise To aid me in my enterprise. Then call thy nobles to debate, And with their help deliberate."

The saint approved, and glad and kind Dismissed the king with joyful mind Around the sage King Janak went With priests and kinsmen reverent. Then Visvamitra, honoured so, By those high-minded, rose to go, And with the princes took his way To seek the lodging where they lay.

Then, summoned by the king's behest, The multitudes together pressed, And, missing still the royal sire, Began, impatient, to inquire: "Who to our lord will tidings bear That all his people throng the square? Where is the king? the sun is bright, And all is ready for the rite."

"This Lord of boons has sought me here To waft me hence to Brahma's sphere, Won by my penance long and stern,-- A home the lawless ne'er can earn. But when I knew that thou wast nigh, To Brahma's world I could not fly Until these longing eyes were blest With seeing thee, mine honoured guest. Since thou, O Prince, hast cheered my sight, Great-hearted lover of the right, To heavenly spheres will I repair And bliss supreme that waits me there. For I have won, dear Prince, my way To those fair worlds which ne'er decay, Celestial seat of Brahma's reign: Be thine, with me, those worlds to gain."

Thus gave command the twice-born pair To active servants stationed there. Then hastened to the king and said That all their task was duly sped, The king to wise Sumantra spake: "Now quick, my lord, thy chariot take, And hither with thy swiftest speed My son, my noble Rama lead."

Now, Bharat, lord of men be thou, And o'er Ayodhya reign: The silvan world to me shall bow, King of the wild domain. Yea, let thy joyful steps be bent To that fair town to-day, And I as happy and content, To Dandak wood will stray. The white umbrella o'er thy brow Its cooling shade shall throw: I to the shadow of the bough And leafy trees will go. Satrughna, for wise plans renowned, Shall still on thee attend; And Lakshman, ever faithful found, Be my familiar friend. Let us his sons, O brother dear, The path of right pursue, And keep the king we all revere Still to his promise true."

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

Then Kusik's son, by pity warmed, Spoke sweetly to the king transformed: "Hail! glory of Ikshvaku's line: I know how bright thy virtues shine. Dismiss thy fear, O noblest Chief, For I myself will bring relief. The holiest saints will I invite To celebrate thy purposed rite: So shall thy vow, O King, succeed, And from thy cares shalt thou be freed. Thou in the form which now thou hast, Transfigured by the curse they cast,-- Yea, in the body, King, shalt flee, Transported, where thou fain wouldst be. O Lord of men, I ween that thou Hast heaven within thy hand e'en now, For very wisely hast thou done, And refuge sought with Kusik's son."

He spoke. The modest king replied That all was prosperous far and wide.

He ceased: Vibhishan ill at ease Addressed the king in words like these:

That night with all his children spent, At morn King Dasaratha went, Behind Vasishtha and the rest, To the fair ground for rites addressed. Then when the lucky hour was nigh Called Victory, of omen high, Came Rama, after vow and prayer For nuptial bliss and fortune fair, With the three youths in bright attire, And stood beside his royal sire. To Janak then Vasishtha sped, And to Videha's monarch said: "O King, Ayodhya's ruler now Has breathed the prayer and vowed the vow, And with his sons expecting stands The giver of the maidens' hands. The giver and the taker both Must ratify a mutual oath. Perform the part for which we wait, And rites of marriage celebrate."

"Go tell the king that Lakshman waits For audience at the city gates, Whose heart, O tamer of thy foes, Is heavy with his brother's woes. Bid him to Rama's word attend, And ask if he will aid his friend. Go, let the king my message learn: Then hither with all speed return."

Such were the words Kaikeyi said: Then Manthara, her eyeballs red With fury, skilled with treacherous art To grieve yet more her lady's heart, From Rama, in her wicked hate, Kaikeyi's love to alienate, Upon her evil purpose bent Began again most eloquent: "Peril awaits thee swift and sure, And utter woe defying cure; King Dasaratha will create Prince Rama Heir Associate. Plunged in the depths of wild despair, My soul a prey to pain and care, As though the flames consumed me, zeal Has brought me for my lady's weal, Thy grief, my Queen, is grief to me: Thy gain my greatest gain would be. Proud daughter of a princely line, The rights of consort queen are thine. How art thou, born of royal race, Blind to the crimes that kings debase? Thy lord is gracious, to deceive, And flatters, but thy soul to grieve, While thy pure heart that thinks no sin Knows not the snares that hem thee in. Thy husband's lips on thee bestow Soft soothing word, an empty show: The wealth, the substance, and the power This day will be Kausalya's dower. With crafty soul thy child he sends To dwell among thy distant friends, And, every rival far from sight, To Rama gives the power and might. Ah me! for thou, unhappy dame, Deluded by a husband's name, With more than mother's love hast pressed A serpent to thy heedless breast, And cherished him who works thee woe, No husband but a deadly foe. For like a snake, unconscious Queen, Or enemy who stabs unseen, King Dasaratha all untrue Has dealt with thee and Bharat too. Ah, simple lady, long beguiled By his soft words who falsely smiled! Poor victim of the guileless breast, A happier fate thou meritest. For thee and thine destruction waits When he Prince Rama consecrates. Up, lady, while there yet is time; Preserve thyself, prevent the crime. Up, from thy careless ease, and free Thyself, O Queen, thy son, and me!"

He ceased: and Bharat bent his head; Sugriva by the hand he led And passed within the palace where Stood couches which Satrughna's care, With robes and hangings richly dyed, And burning lamps, had seen supplied. Then Bharat spake: "I pray thee, friend, Thy speedy messengers to send, Each sacred requisite to bring That we may consecrate our king." Sugriva raised four urns of gold, The water for the rite to hold, And bade four swiftest Vanars flee And fill them from each distant sea. Then east and west and south and north The Vanar envoys hastened forth. Each in swift flight an ocean sought And back through air his treasure brought, And full five hundred floods beside Pure water for the king supplied. Then girt by many a Brahman sage, Vasishtha, chief for reverend age, High on a throne with jewels graced King Rama and his Sita placed. There by Jabali, far revered, Vijay and Kasyap's son appeared; By Gautam's side Katvayan stood, And Vamadeva wise and good, Whose holy hands in order shed The pure sweet drops on Rama's head. Then priests and maids and warriors, all Approaching at Vasishtha's call, With sacred drops bedewed their king, The centre of a joyous ring, The guardians of the worlds, on high, And all the children of the sky From herbs wherewith their hands were filled Rare juices on his brow distilled. His brows were bound with glistering gold Which Manu's self had worn of old, Bright with the flash of many a gem His sire's ancestral diadem. Satrughna lent his willing aid And o'er him held the regal shade: The monarchs whom his arm had saved The chouries round his forehead waved. A golden chain, that flashed and glowed With gems the God of Wind bestowed: Mahendra gave a glorious string Of fairest pearls to deck the king, The skies with acclamation rang, The gay nymphs danced, the minstrels sang. On that blest day the joyful plain Was clothed anew with golden grain.

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

The Dewy Season(85) came and went; The spring returned again: Then would the king, with mind intent, His sacrifice ordain. He came to Rishyasring, and bowed To him of look divine, And bade him aid his offering vowed For heirs, to save his line. Nor would the youth his aid deny: He spake the monarch fair, And prayed him for that rite so high All requisites prepare. The king to wise Sumantra cried Who stood aye ready near; "Go summon quick each holy guide, To counsel and to hear." Obedient to his lord's behest Away Sumantra sped, And brought Vasishtha and the rest, In Scripture deeply read. Suyajna, Vamadeva came, Javali, Kasyap's son, And old Vasishtha, dear to fame, Obedient every one. King Dasaratha met them there And duly honoured each, And spoke in pleasant words his fair And salutary speech: "In childless longing doomed to pine, No happiness, O lords, is mine. So have I for this cause decreed To slay the sacrificial steed. Fain would I pay that offering high Wherein the horse is doomed to die, With Rishyasring his aid to lend, And with your glory to befriend." With loud applause each holy man Received his speech, approved the plan, And, by the wise Vasishtha led, Gave praises to the king, and said: "The sons thou cravest shalt thou see, Of fairest glory, born to thee, Whose holy feelings bid thee take This righteous course for offspring's sake." Cheered by the ready praise of those Whose aid he sought, his spirits rose, And thus the king his speech renewed With looks of joy and gratitude: "Let what the coming rites require Be ready as the priests desire, And let the horse, ordained to bleed, With fitting guard and priest, be freed,(86) Yonder on Sarju's northern side The sacrificial ground provide; And let the saving rites, that naught Ill-omened may occur, be wrought. The offering I announce to-day Each lord of earth may claim to pay, Provided that his care can guard The holy rite by flaws unmarred.

Thus as he spoke the monarch threw O'er her young limbs the holy dew, While Gods and saints were heard to swell The joyous cry, 'Tis well! 'Tis well! His daughter Sita thus bestowed, O'er whom the sacred drops had flowed. King Janak's heart with rapture glowed. Then to Prince Lakshman thus he cried: "Take Urmila thine offered bride, And clasp her hand within thine own Ere yet the lucky hour be flown." Then to Prince Bharat thus cried he; "Come, take the hand of Mandavi." Then to Satrughna: "In thy grasp The hand of Srutakirti clasp. Now, Raghu's sons, may all of you Be gentle to your wives and true; Keep well the vows you make to-day, Nor let occasion slip away."

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

By chains of duty firmly tied, The wretched king perforce complied. Rama, to please Kaikeyi went Obedient forth to banishment. Then Lakshman's truth was nobly shown, Then were his love and courage known, When for his brother's sake he dared All perils, and his exile shared. And Sita, Rama's darling wife, Loved even as he loved his life, Whom happy marks combined to bless, A miracle of loveliness, Of Janak's royal lineage sprung, Most excellent of women, clung To her dear lord, like Rohini Rejoicing with the Moon to be.(25) The King and people, sad of mood, The hero's car awhile pursued. But when Prince Rama lighted down At Sringavera's pleasant town, Where Ganga's holy waters flow, He bade his driver turn and go. Guha, Nishadas' king, he met, And on the farther bank was set. Then on from wood to wood they strayed, O'er many a stream, through constant shade, As Bharadvaja bade them, till They came to Chitrakuta's hill. And Rama there, with Lakshman's aid, A pleasant little cottage made, And spent his days with Sita, dressed In coat of bark and deerskin vest.(26) And Chitrakuta grew to be As bright with those illustrious three As Meru's(27) sacred peaks that shine With glory, when the Gods recline Beneath them: Siva's(28) self between The Lord of Gold and Beauty's Queen.

Against his judgment sorely pressed By his imperious lord's behest, Maricha threats of death defied And thus with bitter words replied: "Ah, who, my King, with sinful thought This wild and wicked counsel taught, By which destruction soon will fall On thee, thy sons, thy realm and all? Who is the guilty wretch who sees With envious eye thy blissful ease, And by this plan, so falsely shown, Death's gate for thee has open thrown? With souls impelled by mean desire Thy foes against thy life conspire. They urge thee to destruction's brink, And gladly would they see thee sink. Who with base thought to work thee woe This fatal road has dared to show, And, triumph in his wicked eye, Would see thee enter in and die? To all thy counsellors, untrue, The punishment of death is due, Who see thee tempt the dangerous way, Nor strain each nerve thy foot to stay. Wise lords, whose king, by passion led, The path of sin begins to tread, Restrain him while there yet is time: But thine,--they see nor heed the crime. These by their master's will obtain Merit and fame and joy and gain. 'Tis only by their master's grace That servants hold their lofty place. But when the monarch stoops to sin They lose each joy they strive to win, And all the people people high and low Fall in the common overthrow. Merit and fame and honour spring, Best of the mighty, from the king. So all should strive with heart and will To keep the king from every ill. Pride, violence, and sullen hate Will ne'er maintain a monarch's state, And those who cruel deeds advise Must perish when their master dies, Like drivers with their cars o'erthrown In places rough with root and stone. The good whose holy lives were spent On duty's highest laws intent, With wives and children many a time Have perished for another's crime. Hapless are they whose sovereign lord, Opposed to all, by all abhorred, Is cruel-hearted, harsh, severe: Thus might a jackal tend the deer.

"Is this thy counsel, weak and base, Unworthy of thy giant race? Thy speech is fruitless, vain, thy toil Like casting seed on barren soil. No words of thine shall drive me back From Rama and the swift attack. A fool is he, inured to sin, And more, of human origin. The craven, at a woman's call To leave his sire, his mother, all The friends he loved, the power and sway, And hasten to the woods away! But now his anger will I rouse, Stealing away his darling spouse. I in thy sight will ravish her From Khara's cruel murderer. Upon this plan my soul is bent, And naught shall move my firm intent, Not if the way through demons led And Gods with Indra at their head. 'Tis thine, when questioned, to explain The hope and fear, the loss and gain, And, when thy king thy thoughts would know, The triumph or the danger show. A prudent counsellor should wait, And speak when ordered in debate, With hands uplifted, calm and meek, If honour and reward he seek. Or, when some prudent course he sees Which, spoken, may his king displease He should by hints of dexterous art His counsel to his lord impart. But prudent words are said in vain When the blunt speech brings grief and pain. A high-souled king will scarcely thank The man who shames his royal rank. Five are the shapes that kings assume, Of majesty, of grace, and gloom: Like Indra now, or Agni, now Like the dear Moon, with placid brow: Like mighty Varun now they show, Now fierce as He who rules below. O giant, monarchs lofty-souled Are kind and gentle, stern and bold, With gracious love their gifts dispense And swiftly punish each offence. Thus subjects should their rulers view With all respect and honour due. But folly leads thy heart to slight Thy monarch and neglect his right. Thou hast in lawless pride addressed With bitter words thy royal guest. I asked thee not my strength to scan, Or loss and profit in the plan.

"Famed is the prince who loves the truth, Whose soul is touched with tender ruth, Who, liberal, keeps each sense subdued, And pays the debt of gratitude. But all unmeet a king to be, The meanest of the mean is he Who basely breaks the promise made To trusting friends who lent him aid. He sins who for a steed has lied, As if a hundred steeds had died: Or if he lie, a cow to win, Tenfold as heavy is the sin. But if the lie a man betray, Both he and his shall all decay.(639) O Vanar King, the thankless man Is worthy of the general ban, Who takes assistance of his friends, And in his turn no service lends. This verse of old by Brahma sung Is echoed now by every tongue. Hear what He cried in angry mood Bewailing man's ingratitude: "For draughts of wine, for slaughtered cows, For treacherous theft, for broken vows A pardon is ordained: but none For thankless scorn of service done." Ungrateful, Vanar King, art thou, And faithless to thy plighted vow. For Rama brought thee help, and yet Thou shunnest to repay the debt: Or, grateful, thou hadst surely pressed To aid the hero in his quest. Thou art, in vulgar pleasures drowned, False to thy bond in honour bound. Nor yet has Rama's guileless heart Discerned thee for the thing thou art-- A snake who holds the frogs that cries And lures fresh victims as it dies. Brave Rama, born for glorious fate, Has set thee in thy high estate, And to the Vanars' throne restored, Great-souled himself, their mean-souled lord. Now if thy pride disown what he, High thoughted prince, has done for thee, Struck by his arrows shalt thou fall, And Bali meet in Yama's hall. Still open, to the gloomy God, Lies the sad path thy brother trod. Then to thy plighted word be true, Nor let thy steps that path pursue. Methinks the shafts of Rama, shot Like thunderbolts, thou heedest not, Who canst, absorbed in sensual bliss, Thy promise from thy mind dismiss."

But when the giant king surveyed His glorious town in ruin laid, And each dire sign of victory won By Hanuman the Wind-God's son, He vailed his angry eyes oppressed By shame, and thus his lords addressed: "The Vanar spy has passed the gate Of Lanka long inviolate, Eluded watch and ward, and seen With his bold eyes the captive queen. My royal roof with flames is red, The bravest of my lords are dead, And the fierce Vanar in his hate Has left our city desolate. Now ponder well the work that lies Before us, ponder and advise. With deep-observing judgment scan The peril, and mature a plan. From counsel, sages say, the root, Springs victory, most glorious fruit. First ranks the king, when woe impends Who seeks the counsel of his friends, Of kinsmen ever faithful found, Or those whose hopes with his are bound, Then with their aid his strength applies, And triumphs in his enterprise. Next ranks the prince who plans alone, No counsel seeks to aid his own, Weighs loss and gain and wrong and right, And seeks success with earnest might. Unwisest he who spurns delays, Who counts no cost, no peril weighs, Speeds to his aim, defying fate, And risks his all, precipitate. Thus too in counsel sages find A best, a worst, a middle kind. When gathered counsellors explore The way by light of holy lore, And all from first to last agree, Is the best counsel of the three. Next, if debate first waxes high, And each his chosen plan would try Till all agree at last, we deem This counsel second in esteem. Worst of the three is this, when each Assails with taunt his fellow's speech; When all debate, and no consent Concludes the angry argument. Consult then, lords; my task shall be To crown with act your wise decree. With thousands of his wild allies The vengeful Rama hither hies; With unresisted might and speed Across the flood his troops will lead, Or for the Vanar host will drain The channels of the conquered main."

Thus urged, the sage recounted both The birth of Ganga and her growth: "The mighty hill with metals stored, Himalaya, is the mountains' lord, The father of a lovely pair Of daughters fairest of the fair: Their mother, offspring of the will Of Meru, everlasting hill, Mena, Himalaya's darling, graced With beauty of her dainty waist. Ganga was elder-born: then came The fair one known by Uma's name. Then all the Gods of heaven, in need Of Ganga's help their vows to speed, To great Himalaya came and prayed The mountain King to yield the maid. He, not regardless of the weal Of the three worlds, with holy zeal His daughter to the Immortals gave, Ganga whose waters cleanse and save, Who roams at pleasure, fair and free, Purging all sinners, to the sea. The three-pathed Ganga thus obtained, The Gods their heavenly homes regained. Long time the sister Uma passed In vows austere and rigid fast, And the king gave the devotee Immortal Rudra's(180) bride to be, Matching with that unequalled Lord His Uma through the worlds adored. So now a glorious station fills Each daughter of the King of Hills: One honoured as the noblest stream, One mid the Goddesses supreme. Thus Ganga, King Himalaya's child, The heavenly river, undefiled, Rose bearing with her to the sky Her waves that bless and purify."

Prince Ansuman the strong and brave Followed the rede Suparna(193) gave. The glorious hero took the horse, And homeward quickly bent his course. Straight to the anxious king he hied, Whom lustral rites had purified, The mournful story to unfold And all the king of birds had told. The tale of woe the monarch heard, Nor longer was the rite deferred: With care and just observance he Accomplished all, as texts decree. The rites performed, with brighter fame, Mighty in counsel, home he came. He longed to bring the river down, But found no plan his wish to crown. He pondered long with anxious thought But saw no way to what he sought. Thus thirty thousand years he spent, And then to heaven the monarch went.

The monarch ceased. In answer came The joyous princes' glad acclaim. So peacocks in the rain rejoice And hail the cloud with lifted voice. Murmurs of joy from thousands round Shook the high palace with the sound. Then when the gathered throng had learned His will who right and gain discerned, Peasant and townsman, priest and chief, All met in consultation brief, And soon agreed with one accord Gave answer to their sovereign lord: "King of the land, we know thee old: Thousands of years have o'er thee rolled, Rama thy son, we pray, anoint, And at thy side his place appoint Our gallant prince, so brave and strong, Riding in royal state along, Our eyes with joyful pride will see Screened by the shade that shelters thee." Then spake the king again, as though Their hearts' true wish he sought to know: "These prayers for Rama's rule suggest One question to my doubting breast. This thing, I pray, with truth explain: Why would ye, while I justly reign, That he, mine eldest son, should bear His part with me as ruling heir?" Then all the people made reply, Peasant and townsman, low and high: "Each noblest gift of form and mind, O Monarch, in thy son we find. Do thou the godlike virtues hear Which Rama to our hearts endear. So richly blest with graces, none In all the earth excels thy son: Nay, who to match with him may claim In truth, in justice, and in fame? True to his promise, gentle, kind, Unenvious, of grateful mind, Versed in the law and firm of soul, He keeps each sense with strict control. With duteous care he loves to sit By Brahmans skilled in Holy Writ. Hence brightest glory, ne'er to end, And matchless fame his youth attend. Skilled in the use of spear and shield, And arms which heavenly warriors wield, Supreme in war, unconquered yet By man, fiend, God in battle met, Whene'er in pomp of war he goes 'Gainst town or city of the foes, He ever comes with Lakshman back Victorious from the fierce attack.

As weeping thus the hero prayed, His head at Rama's feet he laid. Like a mad elephant he sighed: And Rama gazed and thus replied: "How, brother, can a man of worth, True to his vows, of noble birth-- A man like me, commit a sin The lordship of the land to win? No slightest shade of fault I see, O tamer of thy foes, in thee. But ne'er shouldst thou in childish thought The queen thy mother blame in aught. O brother wise and sinless, know The sacred laws would have it so, That from good wife and son require Obedience to their lord and sire. And we are all the king's, for thus The virtuous ever reckon us: Yea brother, be it known to thee, His wives, and sons, and pupils we. His is the right, if he deem fit, To bid me, throned as monarch, sit, Or in a coat of bark expel, And deerskin, in the wood to dwell. And O remember, best of all Who act as claims of duty call, As to a virtuous sire is due, Such honour claims a mother too. So they whose lives have ever been By duty led, the king and queen, Said, "Rama, seek the forest shade:" And I (what could I else?) obeyed. Thou must the royal power retain, And o'er the famed Ayodhya reign: I dressed in bark my days will spend Where Dandak's forest wilds extend. So Dasaratha spoke, our king, His share to each apportioning Before his honoured servants' eyes: Then, heir of bliss, he sought the skies. The righteous monarch's honoured will, Whom all revered, must guide thee still, And thou must still enjoy the share Assigned thee by our father's care. So I till twice seven years are spent Will roam this wood in banishment, Contented with the lot which he, My high-souled sire, has given me. The charge the monarch gave, endeared To all mankind, by all revered, Peer of the Lord Supreme, Far better, richer far in gain Of every blessing than to reign O'er all the worlds I deem."

He ceased: and Rama's heart was stirred At every keen reproach he heard. There Bali lay, a dim dark sun, His course of light and glory run: Or like the bed of Ocean dried Of his broad floods from side to side, Or helpless, as the dying fire, Hushed his last words of righteous ire. Then Rama, with his spirit moved, The Vanar king in turn reproved: "Why dost thou, Bali, thus revile, And castest not a glance the while On claims of duty, love, and gain, And customs o'er the world that reign? Why dost thou blame me, rash and blind, Fickle as all thy Vanar kind, Slighting each rule of ancient days Which all the good and prudent praise? This land, each hill and woody chase, Belongs to old Ikshvaku's race: With bird and beast and man, the whole Is ours to cherish and control. Now Bharat, prompt at duty's call, Wise, just, and true, is lord of all. Each claim of law, love, gain he knows, And wrath and favour duly shows. A king from truth who never bends, And grace with vigour wisely blends; With valour worthy of his race, He knows the claims of time and place. Now we and other kings of might, By his ensample taught aright, The lands of every region tread That justice may increase and spread. While royal Bharat, wise and just, Rules the broad earth, his glorious trust, Who shall attempt, while he is lord, A deed by Justice held abhorred? We now, as Bharat has decreed, Let justice guide our every deed, And toil each sinner to repress Who scorns the way of righteousness. Thou from that path hast turned aside, And virtue's holy law defied, Left the fair path which kings should tread, And followed pleasure's voice instead. The man who cleaves to duty's law Regards these three with filial awe-- The sire, the elder brother, third Him from whose lips his lore he heard. Thus too, for duty's sake, the wise Regard with fond paternal eyes The well-loved younger brother, one Their lore has ripened, and a son.

There faint and bleeding fast, apart Stood Ravan raging in his heart. Then, moved with ruth for Rama's sake, Agastya(999) came and gently spake: "Bend, Rama, bend thy heart and ear The everlasting truth to hear Which all thy hopes through life will bless And crown thine arms with full success. The rising sun with golden rays, Light of the worlds, adore and praise: The universal king, the lord By hosts of heaven and fiends adored. He tempers all with soft control, He is the Gods' diviner soul; And Gods above and fiends below And men to him their safety owe. He Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, he Each person of the glorious Three, Is every God whose praise we tell, The King of Heaven,(1000) the Lord of Hell:(1001) Each God revered from times of old, The Lord of War,(1002) the King of Gold:(1003) Mahendra, Time and Death is he, The Moon, the Ruler of the Sea.(1004) He hears our praise in every form,-- The manes,(1005) Gods who ride the storm,(1006) The Asvins,(1007) Manu,(1008) they who stand Round Indra,(1009) and the Sadhyas'(1010) band He is the air, and life and fire, The universal source and sire: He brings the seasons at his call, Creator, light, and nurse of all. His heavenly course he joys to run, Maker of Day, the golden sun. The steeds that whirl his car are seven,(1011) The flaming steeds that flash through heaven. Lord of the sky, the conqueror parts The clouds of night with glistering darts. He, master of the Vedas' lore, Commands the clouds' collected store: He is the rivers' surest friend; He bids the rains, and they descend. Stars, planets, constellations own Their monarch of the golden throne. Lord of twelve forms,(1012) to thee I bow, Most glorious King of heaven art thou. O Rama, he who pays aright Due worship to the Lord of Light Shall never fall oppressed by ill, But find a stay and comfort still. Adore with all thy heart and mind This God of Gods, to him resigned; And thou his saving power shalt know Victorious o'er thy giant foe."

The aged king for Rama pined, And for the skies the earth resigned. Bharat, his son, refused to reign, Though urged by all the twice-born(29) train. Forth to the woods he fared to meet His brother, fell before his feet, And cried, "Thy claim all men allow: O come, our lord and king be thou." But Rama nobly chose to be Observant of his sire's decree. He placed his sandals(30) in his hand A pledge that he would rule the land: And bade his brother turn again. Then Bharat, finding prayer was vain, The sandals took and went away; Nor in Ayodhya would he stay. But turned to Nandigrama, where He ruled the realm with watchful care, Still longing eagerly to learn Tidings of Rama's safe return.

He ceased: then rapture loosed each tongue: From men and dames, from old and young, One long, one universal cry, 'Tis he, 'tis Rama, smote the sky. All lighted down with eager speed From elephant and car and steed, And every joyful eye intent On Rama's moonbright face was bent. Entranced a moment Bharat gazed: Then reverential hands he raised, And on his brother humbly pressed The honours due to welcome guest. Then Bharat clomb the car to greet His king and bowed him at his feet, Till Rama raised him face to face And held him in a close embrace. Then Lakshman and the Maithil dame He greeted as he spoke his name(1026) He greeted next, supreme in place, The sovereign of the Vanar race, And Jambavan and Bali's son, And lords and chiefs, omitting none.(1027) Sugriva to his heart he pressed And thus with grateful words addressed: "Four brothers, Vanar king, were we, And now we boast a fifth in thee. By kindly acts a friend we know: Offence and wrong proclaim the foe." To King Vibhishan then he spake: "Well hast thou fought for Rama's sake." Nor was the brave Satrughna slow His reverential love to show To both his brothers, as was meet, And venerate the lady's feet. Then Rama to his mother came, Saw her pale cheek and wasted frame, With gentle words her heart consoled, And clasped her feet with loving hold. Then at Sumitra's feet he bent, And fair Kaikeyi's, reverent, Greeted each dame from chief to least, And bowed him to the household priest. Up rose a shout from all the throng: "O welcome, Rama, mourned so long. Welcome, Kausalya's joy and pride," Ten hundred thousand voices cried. Then Bharat placed, in duty taught, On Rama's feet the shoes he brought: "My King," he cried, "receive again The pledge preserved through years of pain, The rule and lordship of the land Entrusted to my weaker hand. No more I sigh o'er sorrows past, My birth and life are blest at last In the glad sight this day has shown, When Rama comes to rule his own."

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

Thus king Sugriva, good and brave, In humble words his answer gave, Softened was Lakshman's angry mood Who thus his friendly speech renewed: "My brother, Vanar King, will see A champion and a friend in thee. So strong art thou, so brave and bold, So pure in thought, so humble-souled, That thou deservest well to reign And all a monarch's bliss to gain. Lend thou my brother aid, and all His foes beneath his arm will fall. Full well the words thou speakest suit A chieftain wise and resolute. With grateful heart that loves the right, And foot that never yields in fight. O come, and my sad brother cheer Who mourns the wife he holds so dear. O pardon, friend, my harsh address, And Rama's frantic bitterness."

They looked upon the boundless main The awful seat of Varun's reign. And heard his waters roar and rave Terrific with each crested wave. Then, in the depths of sorrow drowned, They sat upon the bosky ground, And sadly, as they pondered, grieved For days gone by and naught achieved. Pain pierced them through with sharper sting When, gazing on the trees of spring, They saw each waving bough that showed The treasures of its glorious load, And helpless, fainting with the weight Of woe they sank disconsolate. Then, lion-shouldered, stout and strong, The noblest of the Vanar throng, Angad the prince imperial rose, And, deeply stricken by the woes That his impetuous spirit broke, Thus gently to the chieftains spoke: "Mark ye not, Vanars, that the day Our monarch fixed has passed away? The month is lost in toil and pain, And now, my friends, what hopes remain? On you, in lore of counsel tried, Our king Sugriva most relied. Your hearts, with strong affection fraught, His weal in every labour sought, And the true valour of your band Was blazoned wide in every land. Forth on the toilsome search you sped, By me--for so he willed it--led, To us, of every hope bereft, Death is the only refuge left. For none a happy life may see Who fails to do our king's decree. Come, let us all from food abstain, And perish thus, since hope is vain. Stern is our king and swift to ire, Imperious, proud, and fierce like fire, And ne'er will pardon us the crime Of fruitless search and wasted time. Far better thus to end our lives, And leave our wealth, our homes and wives, Leave our dear little ones and all, Than by his vengeful hand to fall. Think not Sugriva's wrath will spare Me Bali's son, imperial heir: For Raghu's royal son, not he, To this high place anointed me. Sugriva, long my bitter foe, With eager hand will strike the blow, And, mindful of the old offence, Will slay me now for negligence, Nor will my pitying friends have power To save me in the deadly hour.

The hermit heard with high content That speech so wondrous eloquent, And while each hair with joy arose,(142) He thus made answer at the close: "Good is thy speech O noble King, And like thyself in everything. So should their lips be wisdom-fraught Whom kings begot, Vasishtha taught. The favour which I came to seek Thou grantest ere my tongue can speak. But let my tale attention claim, And hear the need for which I came. O King, as Scripture texts allow, A holy rite employs me now. Two fiends who change their forms at will Impede that rite with cursed skill.(143) Oft when the task is nigh complete, These worst of fiends my toil defeat, Throw bits of bleeding flesh, and o'er The altar shed a stream of gore. When thus the rite is mocked and stayed, And all my pious hopes delayed, Cast down in heart the spot I leave, And spent with fruitless labour grieve. Nor can I, checked by prudence, dare Let loose my fury on them there: The muttered curse, the threatening word, In such a rite must ne'er be heard. Thy grace the rite from check can free. And yield the fruit I long to see. Thy duty bids thee, King, defend The suffering guest, the suppliant friend. Give me thy son, thine eldest born, Whom locks like raven's wings adorn. That hero youth, the truly brave, Of thee, O glorious King, I crave. For he can lay those demons low Who mar my rites and work me woe: My power shall shield the youth from harm, And heavenly might shall nerve his arm. And on my champion will I shower Unnumbered gifts of varied power, Such gifts as shall ensure his fame And spread through all the worlds his name. Be sure those fiends can never stand Before the might of Rama's hand, And mid the best and bravest none Can slay that pair but Raghu's son. Entangled in the toils of Fate Those sinners, proud and obstinate, Are, in their fury overbold, No match for Rama mighty-souled. Nor let a father's breast give way Too far to fond affection's sway.

"King Janak, just and brave and strong, Who loves the right and hates the wrong, Well skilled in what the law ordains For Warriors, o'er Videha reigns. Guiding one morn the plough, his hand Marked out, for rites the sacred land, When, as the ploughshare cleft the earth, Child of the king I leapt to birth. Then as the ground he smoothed and cleared, He saw me all with dust besmeared, And on the new-found babe, amazed The ruler of Videha gazed. In childless love the monarch pressed The welcome infant to his breast: "My daughter," thus he cried, "is she:" And as his child he cared for me. Forth from the sky was heard o'erhead As 'twere a human voice that said: "Yea, even so: great King, this child Henceforth thine own be justly styled." Videha's monarch, virtuous souled, Rejoiced o'er me with joy untold, Delighting in his new-won prize, The darling of his heart and eyes. To his chief queen of saintly mind The precious treasure he consigned, And by her side she saw me grow, Nursed with the love which mothers know. Then as he saw the seasons fly, And knew my marriage-time was nigh, My sire was vexed with care, as sad As one who mourns the wealth he had: "Scorn on the maiden's sire must wait From men of high and low estate: The virgin's father all despise, Though Indra's peer, who rules the skies." More near he saw, and still more near, The scorn that filled his soul with fear, On trouble's billowy ocean tossed, Like one whose shattered bark is lost. My father knowing how I came, No daughter of a mortal dame, In all the regions failed to see A bridegroom meet to match with me. Each way with anxious thought he scanned, And thus at length the monarch planned: "The Bride's Election will I hold, With every rite prescribed of old." It pleased King Varun to bestow Quiver and shafts and heavenly bow Upon my father's sire who reigned, When Daksha his great rite ordained. Where was the man might bend or lift With utmost toil that wondrous gift?

When the great sage had thus replied, To Rama Satananda cried: "A welcome visit, Prince, is thine, Thou scion of King Raghu's line. With him to guide thy way aright, This sage invincible in might, This Brahman sage, most glorious-bright, By long austerities has wrought A wondrous deed, exceeding thought: Thou knowest well, O strong of arm, This sure defence from scathe and harm. None, Rama, none is living now In all the earth more blest than thou, That thou hast won a saint so tried In fervid rites thy life to guide. Now listen, Prince, while I relate His lofty deeds and wondrous fate. He was a monarch pious-souled. His foemen in the dust he rolled; Most learned, prompt at duty's claim, His people's good his joy and aim.

Maricha gave attentive ear The ruler of the fiends to hear: Then, trained in all the rules that teach The eloquent, began his speech: "'Tis easy task, O King, to find Smooth speakers who delight the mind. But they who urge and they who do Distasteful things and wise, are few. Thou hast not learnt, by proof untaught, And borne away by eager thought, That Rama, formed for high emprise, With Varun or with Indra vies. Still let thy people live in peace, Nor let their name and lineage cease, For Rama with his vengeful hand Can sweep the giants from the land. O, let not Janak's daughter bring Destruction on the giant king. Let not the lady Sita wake A tempest, on thy head to break. Still let the dame, by care untried, Be happy by her husband's side, Lest swift avenging ruin fall On glorious Lanka, thee, and all. Men such as thou with wills unchained, Advised by sin and unrestrained, Destroy themselves, the king, the state, And leave the people desolate. Rama, in bonds of duty held, Was never by his sire expelled. He is no wretch of greedy mind, Dishonour of his Warrior kind. Free from all touch of rancorous spite, All creatures' good is his delight. He saw his sire of truthful heart Deceived by Queen Kaikeyi's art, And said, a true and duteous son, "What thou hast promised shall be done." To gratify the lady's will, His father's promise to fulfil, He left his realm and all delight For Dandak wood, an anchorite. No cruel wretch, no senseless fool Is Rama, unrestrained by rule. This groundless charge has ne'er been heard, Nor shouldst thou speak the slanderous word. Rama in truth and goodness bold Is Virtue's self in human mould, The sovereign of the world confessed As Indra rules among the Blest. And dost thou plot from him to rend The darling whom his arms defend? Less vain the hope to steal away The glory of the Lord of Day. O Ravan, guard thee from the fire Of vengeful Rama's kindled ire,-- Each spark a shaft with deadly aim, While bow and falchion feed the flame.

"What fame, from one thou hast not slain In front of battle, canst thou gain, Whose secret hand has laid me low When madly fighting with my foe? From every tongue thy glory rings, A scion of a line of kings, True to thy vows, of noblest race, With every gentle gift and grace: Whose tender heart for woe can feel, And joy in every creature's weal: Whose breast with high ambition swells, Knows duty's claim and ne'er rebels. They praise thy valour, patience, ruth, Thy firmness, self-restraint, and truth: Thy hand prepared for sin's control, All virtues of a princely soul. I thought of all these gifts of thine, And glories of an ancient line, I set my Tara's tears at naught, I met Sugriva and we fought. O Rama, till this fatal morn I held that thou wouldst surely scorn To strike me as I fought my foe And thought not of a stranger's blow, But now thine evil heart is shown, A yawning well with grass o'ergrown. Thou wearest virtue's badge,(588) but guile And meanest sin thy soul defile. I took thee not for treacherous fire, A sinner clad in saint's attire; Nor deemed thou idly wouldst profess The show and garb of righteousness. In fenced town, in open land, Ne'er hast thou suffered at this hand, Nor canst of proud contempt complain: Then wherefore is the guiltless slain? My harmless life in woods I lead, On forest fruits and roots I feed. My foeman in the field I sought, And ne'er with thee, O Rama, fought. Upon thy limbs, O King, I see The raiment of a devotee; And how can one like thee, who springs From a proud line of ancient kings, Beneath fair virtue's mask, disgrace His lineage by a deed so base? From Raghu is thy long descent, For duteous deeds preeminent: Why, sinner clad in saintly dress, Roamest thou through the wilderness? Truth, valour, justice free from spot, The hand that gives and grudges not, The might that strikes the sinner down, These bring a prince his best renown. Here in the woods, O King, we live On roots and fruit which branches give.

When Bharat heard Sumantra's rede, To his fair words the prince agreed: "Go quickly forth," he cried, "and bring Before my face the aged king." King Guha, with his kinsmen near, Rejoiced the summoning to hear: He nearer drew, bowed low his head, And thus to royal Bharat said: "No mansions can our country boast, And unexpected comes thy host: But what we have I give thee all: Rest in the lodging of thy thrall. See, the Nishadas here have brought The fruit and roots their hands have sought: And we have woodland fare beside, And store of meat both fresh and dried. To rest their weary limbs, I pray This night at least thy host may stay: Then cheered with all we can bestow To-morrow thou with it mayst go."

Soon as they heard the holy man, To the king's chamber swift they ran With minds disordered all, and spurred To wildest zeal by what they heard. On to the royal hall they sped, There stood and lowly bowed the head, And made the lord of men aware That the great saint was waiting there. The king with priest and peer arose And ran the sage to meet, As Indra from his palace goes Lord Brahma's self to greet. When glowing with celestial light The pious hermit was in sight, The king, whose mien his transport showed, The honoured gift for guests bestowed. Nor did the saint that gift despise, Offered as holy texts advise; He kindly asked the earth's great king How all with him was prospering. The son of Kusik(139) bade him tell If all in town and field were well, All well with friends, and kith and kin, And royal treasure stored within: "Do all thy neighbours own thy sway? Thy foes confess thee yet? Dost thou continue still to pay To Gods and men each debt?" Then he, of hermits first and best, Vasishtha with a smile(140) addressed, And asked him of his welfare too, Showing him honour as was due. Then with the sainted hermit all Went joyous to the monarch's hall, And sate them down by due degree, Each one, of rank and dignity. Joy filled the noble prince's breast Who thus bespoke the honoured guest: "As amrit(141) by a mortal found, As rain upon the thirsty ground, As to an heirless man a son Born to him of his precious one, As gain of what we sorely miss, As sudden dawn of mighty bliss, So is thy coming here to me: All welcome, mighty Saint, to thee. What wish within thy heart hast thou? If I can please thee, tell me how. Hail, Saint, from whom all honours flow, Worthy of all I can bestow. Blest is my birth with fruit to-day, Nor has my life been thrown away. I see the best of Brahman race And night to glorious morn gives place. Thou, holy Sage, in days of old Among the royal saints enrolled, Didst, penance-glorified, within The Brahman caste high station win.

As thus the king that youth conveyed, His weary steeds at length he stayed At height of noon their rest to take Upon the bank of Pushkar's lake. There while the king enjoyed repose The captive Sunahsepha rose, And hasting to the water's side His uncle Visvamitra spied, With many a hermit 'neath the trees Engaged in stern austerities.

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."

"Best is that chief of all who know With deftest art to draw the bow. His are strange arms of heavenly might, And none can match him in the fight. His brother Lakshman brave as he, Fair as the rounded moon to see, With eyes like night and voice that comes Deep as the roll of beaten drums, By Rama's side stands ever near, Like wind that aids the flame's career. That glorious chief, that prince of kings, On Janasthan this ruin brings. No Gods were there,--dismiss the thought No heavenly legions came and fought. His swift-winged arrows Rama sent, Each bright with gold and ornament. To serpents many-faced they turned: The giant hosts they ate and burned. Where'er these fled in wild dismay Rama was there to strike and slay. By him O King of high estate, Is Janasthan left desolate."

Sumantra went. Then Rama came, And Lakshman, and the Maithil dame, And, as he led them on, their guide Straight to the monarch's presence hied. When yet far off the father saw His son with raised palms toward him draw, Girt by his ladies, sick with woes, Swift from his royal seat he rose. With all his strength the aged man To meet his darling Rama ran, But trembling, wild with dark despair, Fell on the ground and fainted there. And Lakshman, wont in cars to ride, And Rama, threw them by the side Of the poor miserable king, Half lifeless with his sorrow's sting. Throughout the spacious hall up went A thousand women's wild lament: "Ah Rama!" thus they wailed and wept, And anklets tinkled as they stepped Around his body, weeping, threw Their loving arms the brothers two, And then, with Sita's gentle aid, The king upon a couch was laid. At length to earth's imperial lord, When life and knowledge were restored, Though seas of woe went o'er his head, With suppliant hand, thus Rama said: "Lord of us all, great King, thou art: Bid me farewell before we part, To Dandak wood this day I go: One blessing and one look bestow. Let Lakshman my companion be, And Sita also follow me. With truthful pleas I sought to bend Their purpose; but no ear they lend. Now cast this sorrow from thy heart, And let us all, great King, depart. As Brahma sends his children, so Let Lakshman, me, and Sita go."

Thus Rama spoke; and Lakshman taught In all the art that utters thought, To King Sugriva's learned spy Thus made his eloquent reply: "Full well we know the gifts that grace Sugriva, lord of Vanar race, And hither turn our wandering feet That we that high-souled king may meet. So now our pleasant task shall be To do the words he speaks by thee."

They heard the royal prince declare The purpose of his fixt despair; And all, by common terror moved, His speech in these sad words approved: "Sugriva's heart is hard and stern, And Rama's thoughts for Sita yearn. Our forfeit lives will surely pay For idle search and long delay, And our fierce king will bid us die The favour of his friend to buy."

When Bharadvaja, prudent-souled, Had heard the prince his tale unfold, Water he bade them bring, a bull, And honour-gifts in dishes full, And drink and food of varied taste, Berries and roots, before him placed, And then the great ascetic showed A cottage for the guests' abode. The saint these honours gladly paid To Rama who had thither strayed, Then compassed sat by birds and deer And many a hermit resting near. The prince received the service kind, And sat him down rejoiced in mind. Then Bharadvaja silence broke, And thus the words of duty spoke: "Kakutstha's royal son, that thou Hadst sought this grove I knew ere now. Mine ears have heard thy story, sent Without a sin to banishment. Behold, O Prince, this ample space Near where the mingling floods embrace, Holy, and beautiful, and clear: Dwell with us, and be happy here."

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

Rama and Lakshman thither sped, By sainted Visvamitra led, And bent in filial love to greet Their father, and embraced his feet. The aged king, rejoiced to hear And see again his children dear, Honoured by Janak's thoughtful care, With great enjoyment rested there. King Janak, with attentive heed, Consulted first his daughters' need, And ordered all to speed the rite; Then rested also for the night.

Then with glad cheer King Guha cried, With Bharat's answer gratified: "Blessed art thou: on earth I see None who may vie, O Prince, with thee, Who canst of thy free will resign The kingdom which unsought is thine. For this, a name that ne'er shall die, Thy glory through the worlds shall fly, Who fain wouldst balm thy brother's pain And lead the exile home again."

Cast not away in hopeless strife Thy realm, thy bliss, thine own dear life. O Ravan of his might beware, A God of Death who will not spare. That bow he knows so well to draw Is the destroyer's flaming jaw, And with his shafts which flash and glow He slays the armies of the foe. Thou ne'er canst win--the thought forego-- From the safe guard of shaft and bow King Janak's child, the dear delight Of Rama unapproached in might. The spouse of Raghu's son, confessed Lion of men with lion chest,-- Dearer than life, through good and ill Devoted to her husband's will, The slender-waisted, still must be From thy polluting touches free. Far better grasp with venturous hand The flame to wildest fury fanned. What, King of giants, canst thou gain From this attempt so wild and vain? If in the fight his eye he bend Upon thee, Lord, thy days must end, So life and bliss and royal sway, Lost beyond hope, will pass away. Summon each lord of high estate, And chief, Vibhishan(490) to debate. With peers in lore of counsel tried Consider, reason, and decide Scan strength and weakness, count the cost, What may be gained and what be lost. Examine and compare aright Thy proper power and Rama's might, Then if thy weal be still thy care, Thou wilt be prudent and forbear. O giant King, the contest shun, Thy force is all too weak The lord of Kosal's mighty son In deadly fray to seek. King of the hosts that rove at night, O hear what I advise: My prudent counsel do not slight; Be patient and be wise."

But now my days are wellnigh told, My strength is gone, my limbs are old, And thou, the bravest and the best, Art the sure hope of all the rest. Now, mighty chief, the task assay: Thy matchless power and strength display. Rise up, O prince, our second king, And o'er the flood of ocean spring. So shall the glorious exploit vie With his who stepped through earth and sky."(784)