Ramayana on Leadership

The pupils heard, and prompt obeyed, To every side their way they made. Then swift from every quarter sped The sages in the Vedas read. Back to that saint the envoys came, Whose glory shone like burning flame, And told him in their faithful speech The answer that they bore from each: "Submissive to thy word, O Seer, The holy men are gathering here. By all was meet obedience shown: Mahodaya(238) refused alone. And now, O Chief of hermits, hear What answer, chilling us with fear, Vasishtha's hundred sons returned, Thick-speaking as with rage they burned: "How will the Gods and saints partake The offerings that the prince would make, And he a vile and outcast thing, His ministrant one born a king? Can we, great Brahmans, eat his food, And think to win beatitude, By Visvamitra purified?" Thus sire and sons in scorn replied, And as these bitter words they said, Wild fury made their eyeballs red.

As some wild elephant who tries To soothe his consort as she lies Struck by the hunter's venomed dart, So the great king disturbed in heart, Strove with soft hand and fond caress To soothe his darling queen's distress, And in his love addressed with sighs The lady of the lotus eyes: "I know not, Queen, why thou shouldst be Thus angered to the heart with me. Say, who has slighted thee, or whence Has come the cause of such offence That in the dust thou liest low, And rendest my fond heart with woe, As if some goblin of the night Had struck thee with a deadly blight, And cast foul influence on her Whose spells my loving bosom stir? I have Physicians famed for skill, Each trained to cure some special ill: My sweetest lady, tell thy pain, And they shall make thee well again. Whom, darling, wouldst thou punished see? Or whom enriched with lordly fee? Weep not, my lovely Queen, and stay This grief that wears thy frame away; Speak, and the guilty shall be freed. The guiltless be condemned to bleed, The poor enriched, the rich abased, The low set high, the proud disgraced. My lords and I thy will obey, All slaves who own thy sovereign sway; And I can ne'er my heart incline To check in aught one wish of thine. Now by my life I pray thee tell The thoughts that in thy bosom dwell. The power and might thou knowest well, Should from thy breast all doubt expel. I swear by all my merit won, Speak, and thy pleasure shall be done. Far as the world's wide bounds extend My glorious empire knows no end. Mine are the tribes in eastern lands, And those who dwell on Sindhu's sands: Mine is Surashtra, far away, Suvira's realm admits my sway. My best the southern nations fear, The Angas and the Vangas hear. And as lord paramount I reign O'er Magadh and the Matsyas' plain, Kosal, and Kasi's wide domain:(273) All rich in treasures of the mine, In golden corn, sheep, goats, and kine. Choose what thou wilt.

Rama, the noblest lord of men, Heard his fond mother's speech, and then In soothing words like these replied To the sad queen who wept and sighed: "Nay, by Kaikeyi's art beguiled, When I am banished to the wild, If thou, my mother, also fly, The aged king will surely die. When wedded dames their lords forsake, Long for the crime their souls shall ache. Thou must not e'en in thought within Thy bosom frame so dire a sin. Long as Kakutstha's son, who reigns Lord of the earth, in life remains, Thou must with love his will obey: This duty claims, supreme for aye. Yes, mother, thou and I must be Submissive to my sire's decree, King, husband, sire is he confessed, The lord of all, the worthiest. I in the wilds my days will spend Till twice seven years have reached an end, Then with great joy will come again, And faithful to thy hests remain."

(589) Thus nature framed our harmless race: Thou art a man supreme in place. Silver and gold and land provoke The fierce attack, the robber's stroke, Canst thou desire this wild retreat, The berries and the fruit we eat? 'Tis not for mighty kings to tread The flowery path, by pleasure led. Theirs be the arm that crushes sin, Theirs the soft grace to woo and win: The steadfast will that guides the state, Wise favour to the good and great; And for all time are kings renowned Who blend these arts and ne'er confound. But thou art weak and swift to ire, Unstable, slave of each desire. Thou tramplest duty in the dust, And in thy bow is all thy trust. Thou carest naught for noble gain, And treatest virtue with disdain, While every sense its captive draws To follow pleasure's changing laws. I wronged thee not in word or deed, But by thy deadly dart I bleed. What wilt thou, mid the virtuous, say To purge thy lasting stain away? All these, O King, must sink to hell, The regicide, the infidel, He who in blood and slaughter joys, A Brahman or a cow destroys, Untimely weds in law's despite Scorning an elder brother's right,(590) Who dares his Teacher's bed ascend, The miser, spy, and treacherous friend. These impious wretches, one and all, Must to the hell of sinners fall. My skin the holy may not wear, Useless to thee my bones and hair; Nor may my slaughtered body be The food of devotees like thee. These five-toed things a man may slay And feed upon the fallen prey; The mailed rhinoceros may die, And, with the hare his food supply. Iguanas he may kill and eat, With porcupine and tortoise meat.(591) But all the wise account it sin To touch my bones and hair and skin. My flesh they may not eat; and I A useless prey, O Rama, die. In vain my Tara reasoned well, On dull deaf ears her counsel fell. I scorned her words though sooth and sweet, And hither rushed my fate to meet. Ah for the land thou rulest!

Through seven wide courts he quickly passed, And reached the royal tower at last, Where seats were set with couch and bed Of gold and silver richly spread. While the young chieftain's feet drew near The sound of music reached his ear, As the soft breathings of the flute Came blending with the voice and lute. Then beauty showed her youth and grace And varied charm of form and face: Soft bright-eyed creatures, fair and young,-- Gay garlands round their necks were hung, And greater charms to each were lent By richest dress and ornament. He saw the calm attendants wait About their lord in careless state, Heard women's girdles chime in sweet Accordance with their tinkling feet. He heard the anklet's silvery sound, He saw the calm that reigned around, And o'er him, as he listened, came A rush of rage, a flood of shame. He drew his bowstring: with the clang From ease to west the welkin rang: Then in his modest mood withdrew A little from the ladies' view. And sternly silent stood apart, While wrath for Rama filled his heart. Sugriva knew the sounding string, And at the call the Vanar king Sprang swiftly from his golden seat, And feared the coming prince to meet. Then with cold lips that terror dried To beauteous Tara thus he cried: "What cause of anger, O my spouse Fair with the charm of lovely brows, Sets Lakshman's gentle breast on fire, And brings him in unwonted ire? Say, canst thou see, O faultless dame, A cause to fill his soul with flame? For there must be a reason when Such fury stirs the king of men. Reveal the sin, if sin of mine Anger the lord of Raghu's line. Or go thyself, his rage subdue, And with soft words his favour woo. Soon as on thee his eyes are set His heart this anger will forget, For men like him of lofty mind Are never stern with womankind. First let thy gentle speech disarm His fury, and his spirit charm, And I, from fear of peril free, The conqueror of his foes will see."

Thus in fair words with virtue fraught The pious glorious saint besought. But the good speech with poignant sting Pierced ear and bosom of the king, Who, stabbed with pangs too sharp to bear, Fell prostrate and lay fainting there.

As he and Dasaratha spoke A tempest from the welkin broke, That shook the spacious earth amain And hurled high trees upon the plain. The sun grew dark with murky cloud, And o'er the skies was cast a shroud, While o'er the army, faint with dread, A veil of dust and ashes spread. King, princes, saints their sense retained, Fear-stupefied the rest remained. At length, their wits returning, all Beneath the gloom and ashy pall Saw Jamadagni's son with dread, His long hair twisted round his head, Who, sprung from Bhrigu, loved to beat The proudest kings beneath his feet. Firm as Kailasa's hill he showed, Fierce as the fire of doom he glowed. His axe upon his shoulder lay, His bow was ready for the fray, With thirsty arrows wont to fly Like Lightnings from the angry sky. A long keen arrow forth he drew, Invincible like those which flew From Siva's ever-conquering bow And Tripura in death laid low.

Sumantra, Lakshman gave assent, And with the steeds they thither went. When Rama reached the lovely tree, With Sita and with Lakshman, he Alighted from the car: with speed Sumantra loosed each weary steed. And, hand to hand in reverence laid, Stood near to Rama in the shade. Rama's dear friend, renowned by fame, Who of Nishada lineage came, Guha, the mighty chief, adored Through all the land as sovereign lord, Soon as he heard that prince renowned Was resting on Nishada ground, Begirt by counsellor and peer And many an honoured friend drew near. Soon as the monarch came in view, Rama and Lakshman toward him flew. Then Guha, at the sight distressed, His arms around the hero pressed, Laid both his hands upon his head Bowed to those lotus feet, and said: "O Rama, make thy wishes known, And be this kingdom as thine own. Who, mighty-armed, will ever see A guest so dear as thou to me?"

The prudent prince the assembly viewed Thronged with its noble multitude, Resplendent as a cloudless night When the full moon is in his height; While robes of every varied hue A glory o'er the synod threw. The priest in lore of duty skilled Looked on the crowd the hall that filled, And then in accents soft and grave To Bharat thus his counsel gave: "The king, dear son, so good and wise, Has gone from earth and gained the skies, Leaving to thee, her rightful lord, This rich wide land with foison stored. And still has faithful Rama stood Firm to the duty of the good, And kept his father's hest aright, As the moon keeps its own dear light. Thus sire and brother yield to thee This realm from all annoyance free: Rejoice thy lords: enjoy thine own: Anointed king, ascend the throne. Let vassal Princes hasten forth From distant lands, west, south, and north, From Kerala,(360) from every sea, And bring ten million gems to thee." As thus the sage Vasishtha spoke, A storm of grief o'er Bharat broke. And longing to be just and true, His thoughts to duteous Rama flew. With sobs and sighs and broken tones, E'en as a wounded mallard moans, He mourned with deepest sorrow moved, And thus the holy priest reproved: "O, how can such as Bharat dare The power and sway from him to tear, Wise, and devout, and true, and chaste, With Scripture lore and virtue graced? Can one of Dasaratha's seed Be guilty of so vile a deed? The realm and I are Rama's: thou, Shouldst speak the words of justice now. For he, to claims of virtue true, Is eldest born and noblest too: Nahush, Dilipa could not be More famous in their lives than he. As Dasaratha ruled of right, So Rama's is the power and right. If I should do this sinful deed And forfeit hope of heavenly meed, My guilty act would dim the shine Of old Ikshvaku's glorious line. Nay, as the sin my mother wrought Is grievous to my inmost thought, I here, my hands together laid, Will greet him in the pathless shade.

"My brother, known by Bali's name, Had won by might a conqueror's fame. My father's eldest-born was he, Well honoured by his sire and me. My father died, and each sage lord Named Bali king with one accord; And he, by right of birth ordained, The sovereign of the Vanars reigned. He in his royal place controlled The kingdom of our sires of old, And I all faithful service lent To aid my brother's government. The fiend Mayavi,--him of yore To Dundubhi(563) his mother bore,-- For woman's love in strife engaged, A deadly war with Bali waged. When sleep had chained each weary frame To vast Kishkindha(564) gates he came, And, shouting through the shades of night, Challenged his foeman to the fight. My brother heard the furious shout, And wild with rage rushed madly out, Though fain would I and each sad wife Detain him from the deadly strife. He burned his demon foe to slay, And rushed impetuous to the fray. His weeping wives he thrust aside, And forth, impelled by fury, hied; While, by my love and duty led, I followed where my brother sped. Mayavi looked, and at the sight Fled from his foes in wild affright. The flying fiend we quickly viewed, And with swift feet his steps pursued. Then rose the moon, whose friendly ray Cast light upon our headlong way. By the soft beams was dimly shown A mighty cave with grass o'ergrown. Within its depths he sprang, and we The demon's form no more might see. My brother's breast was all aglow With fury when he missed the foe, And, turning, thus to me he said With senses all disquieted: "Here by the cavern's mouth remain; Keep ear and eye upon the strain, While I the dark recess explore And dip my brand in foeman's gore." I heard his angry speech, and tried To turn him from his plan aside. He made me swear by both his feet, And sped within the dark retreat. While in the cave he stayed, and I Watched at the mouth, a year went by. For his return I looked in vain, And, moved by love, believed him slain.

"Is this a speech our king should hear, This counsel of ignoble fear? A scion of our glorious race Should ne'er conceive a thought so base, But one mid all our kin we find, Vibhishan, whose degenerate mind No spark of gallant pride retains, Whose coward soul his lineage stains. Against one giant what can two Unhappy sons of Raghu do? Away with idle fears, away! Matched with our meanest, what are they? Beneath my conquering prowess fell The Lord of earth and heaven and hell.(924) Through every startled region dread Of my resistless fury spread; And Gods in each remotest sphere Confessed the universal fear. Rending the air with roar and groan, Airavat(925) to the earth was thrown. From his huge head the tusks I drew, And smote the Gods with fear anew. Shall I who tame celestials' pride, By whom the fiends are terrified, Now prove a weakling little worth, And fail to slay those sons of earth?"

The son of Raghu heard his speech: He cast a hasty look on each Of those brave Vanar chiefs, and while Upon his lips there played a smile, To Lakshman turned and thus expressed The thoughts that moved his gallant breast: "Well versed in Scripture's lore, and sage And duly reverent to age, Is he, with long experience stored, Who counsels like this Vanar lord. Yet here, methinks, for searching eyes Some deeper, subtler matter lies. To you and all the world are known The perils of a monarch's throne, While foe and stranger, kith and kin By his misfortune trust to win. By hope of such advantage led, Vibhishan o'er the sea has fled. He in his brother's stead would reign, And our alliance seeks to gain; And we his offer may embrace, A stranger and of alien race. But if he comes a spy and foe, What power has he to strike a blow In furtherance of his close design? What is his strength compared with mine? And can I, Vanar King, forget The great, the universal debt, Ever to aid and welcome those Who pray for shelter, friends or foes? Hast thou not heard the deathless praise Won by the dove in olden days, Who conquering his fear and hate Welcomed the slayer of his mate, And gave a banquet, to refresh The weary fowler, of his flesh? Now hear me, Vanar King, rehearse What Kandu(929) spoke in ancient verse, Saint Kanva's son who loved the truth And clave to virtue from his youth: "Strike not the suppliant when he stands And asks thee with beseeching hands For shelter: strike him not although He were thy father's mortal foe. No, yield him, be he proud or meek, The shelter which he comes to seek, And save thy foeman, if the deed Should cost thy life, in desperate need." And shall I hear the wretched cry, And my protecting aid deny? Shall I a suppliant's prayer refuse, And heaven and glory basely lose? No, I will do for honour sake E'en as the holy Kandu spake, Preserve a hero's name from stain, And bliss in heaven and glory gain.

Thus Sita and the princes brave Much wealth to all the Brahmans gave. Then to the monarch's house the three Went forth the aged king to see. The princes from two servants took Those heavenly arms of glorious look, Adorned with garland and with band By Sita's beautifying hand. On each high house a mournful throng Had gathered ere they passed along, Who gazed in pure unselfish woe From turret, roof, and portico. So dense the crowd that blocked the ways, The rest, unable there to gaze, Were fain each terrace to ascend, And thence their eyes on Rama bend. Then as the gathered multitude On foot their well-loved Rama viewed, No royal shade to screen his head, Such words, disturbed in grief, they said: "O look, our hero, wont to ride Leading a host in perfect pride-- Now Lakshman, sole of all his friends, With Sita on his steps attends. Though he has known the sweets of power, And poured his gifts in liberal shower, From duty's path he will not swerve, But, still his father's truth preserve. And she whose form so soft and fair Was veiled from spirits of the air, Now walks unsheltered from the day, Seen by the crowds who throng the way. Ah, for that gently-nurtured form! How will it fade with sun and storm! How will the rain, the cold, the heat Mar fragrant breast and tinted feet! Surely some demon has possessed His sire, and speaks within his breast, Or how could one that is a king Thus send his dear son wandering? It were a deed unkindly done To banish e'en a worthless son: But what, when his pure life has gained The hearts of all, by love enchained? Six sovereign virtues join to grace Rama the foremost of his race: Tender and kind and pure is he, Docile, religious, passion-free. Hence misery strikes not him alone: In bitterest grief the people moan, Like creatures of the stream, when dry In the great heat the channels lie. The world is mournful with the grief That falls on its beloved chief, As, when the root is hewn away, Tree, fruit, and flower, and bud decay.

Good Bharat, by the river side, To virtuous Rama's speech replied, And thus with varied lore addressed The prince, while nobles round him pressed: "In all this world whom e'er can we Find equal, scourge of foes, to thee? No ill upon thy bosom weighs, No thoughts of joy thy spirit raise. Approved art thou of sages old, To whom thy doubts are ever told. Alike in death and life, to thee The same to be and not to be. The man who such a soul can gain Can ne'er be crushed by woe or pain. Pure as the Gods, high-minded, wise, Concealed from thee no secret lies. Such glorious gifts are all thine own, And birth and death to thee are known, That ill can ne'er thy soul depress With all-subduing bitterness. O let my prayer, dear brother, win Thy pardon for my mother's sin. Wrought for my sake who willed it not When absent in a distant spot. Duty alone with binding chains The vengeance due to crime restrains, Or on the sinner I should lift My hand in retribution swift. Can I who know the right, and spring From Dasaratha, purest king-- Can I commit a heinous crime, Abhorred by all through endless time? The aged king I dare not blame, Who died so rich in holy fame, My honoured sire, my parted lord, E'en as a present God adored. Yet who in lore of duty skilled So foul a crime has ever willed, And dared defy both gain and right To gratify a woman's spite? When death draws near, so people say, The sense of creatures dies away; And he has proved the ancient saw By acting thus in spite of law. But O my honoured lord, be kind, Dismiss the trespass from thy mind, The sin the king committed, led By haste, his consort's wrath, and dread. For he who veils his sire's offence With tender care and reverence-- His sons approved by all shall live: Not so their fate who ne'er forgive. Be thou, my lord, the noble son, And the vile deed my sire has done, Abhorred by all the virtuous, ne'er Resent, lest thou the guilt too share.

Before the prince's eyes was laid That marvel, as the Brahman prayed. One moment on the bow he gazed, Quick to the notch the string he raised, Then, in the wandering people's view, The cord with mighty force he drew. Then with an awful crash as loud As thunderbolts that cleave the cloud, The bow beneath the matchless strain Of arms heroic snapped in twain. Thus, giving purest water, he, My sire, to Rama offered me. The prince the offered gift declined Till he should learn his father's mind; So horsemen swift Ayodhya sought And back her aged monarch brought. Me then my sire to Rama gave, Self-ruled, the bravest of the brave. And Urmila, the next to me, Graced with all gifts, most fair to see, My sire with Raghu's house allied, And gave her to be Lakshman's bride. Thus from the princes of the land Lord Rama won my maiden hand, And him exalted high above Heroic chiefs I truly love."

From him, the great and glorious king, Shall many a princely scion spring. And he shall rule, beloved by men, Ten thousand years and hundreds ten,(41) And when his life on earth is past To Brahma's world shall go at last."

With trooping Gods the Sire came near The king who plied his task austere: "Blest Monarch, of a glorious race, Thy fervent rites have won my grace. Well hast thou wrought thine awful task: Some boon in turn, O Hermit, ask."

Guha the king, acquainted well With all that in the wood befell, To Bharat the unequalled told The tale of Lakshman mighty-souled: "With many an earnest word I spake To Lakshman as he stayed awake, And with his bow and shaft in hand To guard his brother kept his stand: "Now sleep a little, Lakshman, see This pleasant bed is strewn for thee: Hereon thy weary body lay, And strengthen thee with rest, I pray, Inured to toil are men like these, But thou hast aye been nursed in ease. Rest, duteous-minded! I will keep My watch while Rama lies asleep: For in the whole wide world is none Dearer to me than Raghu's son. Harbour no doubt or jealous fear: I speak the truth with heart sincere: For from the grace which he has shown Will glory on my name be thrown: Great store of merit shall I gain, And duteous, form no wish in vain. Let me enforced by many a row Of followers, armed with shaft and bow For well-loved Rama's weal provide Who lies asleep by Sita's side. For through this wood I often go, And all its shades conceal I know: And we with conquering arms can meet A four-fold host arrayed complete." "With words like these I spoke, designed To move the high-souled Bharat's mind, But he upon his duty bent, Plied his persuasive argument: "O, how can slumber close mine eyes When lowly couched with Sita lies The royal Rama? can I give My heart to joy, or even live? He whom no mighty demon, no, Nor heavenly God can overthrow, See, Guha, how he lies, alas, With Sita couched on gathered grass. By varied labours, long, severe, By many a prayer and rite austere, He, Dasaratha's cherished son, By Fortune stamped, from Heaven was won. Now as his son is forced to fly, The king ere long will surely die: Reft of his guardian hand, forlorn In widowed grief this land will mourn. E'en now perhaps, with toil o'erspent, The women cease their loud lament, And cries of woe no longer ring Throughout the palace of the king. But ah for sad Kausalya! how Fare she and mine own mother now?

And when his uncle's brow is stern, When his fierce eyes with fury burn, Ah, what will be my Angad's fate, So fair and young and delicate? Come, darling, for the last sad sight, Of thy dear sire who loved the right; For soon thine eyes will long in vain A look at that loved face to gain. And, hero, as thy child draws near, With tender words his spirit cheer; Thy dying wishes gently speak, And kiss him on the brows and cheek. High fame, I ween, has Rama won By this great deed his hand has done, His debt to brave Sugriva paid And kept the promise that he made. Be happy, King Sugriva, lord Of Rama to thine arms restored: Enjoy uninterrupted reign, For he, thy foe, at length is slain. Dost thou not hear me speak, and why Hast thou no word of soft reply? Will thou not lift thine eyes and see These dames who look to none but thee?"

Then why, O Lord of Vanars, still Delay us waiting for thy will? Give thy commands, O King, and say What task has each and where the way. Before thee myriad Vanars stand To sweep through heaven, o'er seas and land."

Thus he on mighty thoughts intent; Then thus the sage most eloquent: "King Dasaratha's sons, this pair Of warriors famous everywhere, Are come that best of bows to see That lies a treasure stored by thee. This, mighty Janak, deign to show, That they may look upon the bow, And then, contented, homeward go." Then royal Janak spoke in turn: "O best of Saints, the story learn Why this famed bow, a noble prize, A treasure in my palace lies. A monarch, Devarat by name, Who sixth from ancient Nimi came, Held it as ruler of the land, A pledge in his successive hand. This bow the mighty Rudra bore At Daksha's(245) sacrifice of yore, When carnage of the Immortals stained The rite that Daksha had ordained. Then as the Gods sore wounded fled, Victorious Rudra, mocking, said: "Because, O Gods, ye gave me naught When I my rightful portion sought, Your dearest parts I will not spare, But with my bow your frames will tear."

To her, as thus she weeping cried, Raghu's illustrious son replied: "Sita, my honoured sire's decree Commands me to the woods to flee. O high-born lady, nobly bred In the good paths thy footsteps tread, Hear, Janak's daughter, while I tell The story as it all befell. Of old my father true and brave Two boons to Queen Kaikeyi gave. Through these the preparations made For me to-day by her are stayed, For he is bound to disallow This promise by that earlier vow. In Dandak forest wild and vast Must fourteen years by me be passed. My father's will makes Bharat heir, The kingdom and the throne to share. Now, ere the lonely wild I seek, I come once more with thee to speak. In Bharat's presence, O my dame, Ne'er speak with pride of Rama's name: Another's eulogy to hear Is hateful to a monarch's ear. Thou must with love his rule obey To whom my father yields the sway. With love and sweet observance learn His grace, and more the king's, to earn. Now, that my father may not break The words of promise that he spake, To the drear wood my steps are bent: Be firm, good Sita, and content. Through all that time, my blameless spouse, Keep well thy fasts and holy vows. Rise from thy bed at break of day, And to the Gods due worship pay. With meek and lowly love revere The lord of men, my father dear, And reverence to Kausalya show, My mother, worn with eld and woe: By duty's law, O best of dames, High worship from thy love she claims, Nor to the other queens refuse Observance, rendering each her dues: By love and fond attention shown They are my mothers like mine own. Let Bharat and Satrughna bear In thy sweet love a special share: Dear as my life, O let them be Like brother and like son to thee. In every word and deed refrain From aught that Bharat's soul may pain: He is Ayodhya's king and mine, The head and lord of all our line. For those who serve and love them much With weariless endeavour, touch And win the gracious hearts of kings. While wrath from disobedience springs.

"Here, Lakshman, on this beauteous shore, Stands, dyed with tints of many an ore, The mountain Rishyamuka bright With flowery trees that crown each height. Sprung from the chief who, famed of yore, The name of Riksharajas bore, Sugriva, chieftain strong and dread, Dwells on that mountain's towering head. Go to him, best of men, and seek That prince of Vanars on the peak, I cannot longer brook my pain, Or, Sita lost, my life retain." Thus by the pangs of love distressed, His thoughts on Sita bent, His faithful brother he addressed, And cried in wild lament. He reached the lovely ground that lay On Pampa's wooded side, And told in anguish and dismay, The grief he could not hide. With listless footsteps faint and slow His way the chief pursued, Till Pampa with her glorious show Of flowering woods he viewed. Through shades where every bird was found The prince with Lakshman passed, And Pampa with her groves around Burst on his eyes at last.

The best of Brahmans answer made: "Be not, great lord of kings, afraid. Thy virtues have not failed to win My favour, O thou pure of sin." Then in the front the saint was placed, The king came next in joyous haste, And with him entered his abode, Mid glad acclaim as on they rode. To greet the sage the reverent crowd Raised suppliant hands and humbly bowed. Then from the palace many a dame Following well-dressed Santa came, Stood by the mighty saint and cried: "See, honour's source, thy son's dear bride." The saint, who every virtue knew, His arms around his daughter threw, And with a father's rapture pressed The lady to his wondering breast. Arising from the saint's embrace She bowed her low before his face, And then, with palm to palm applied, Stood by her hermit father's side. He for his son, as laws ordain, Performed the rite that frees from stain,(129) And, honoured by the wise and good, With him departed to the wood.

That answer of the truthful lord, With virtuous worth and honour stored, Janak, Videha's noble king, Heard gladly, greatly marvelling. With bosoms filled with pleasure met Long-parted saint and anchoret, And linked in friendship's tie they spent The peaceful night in great content.

The host his order well obeyed, And halting there in silence stayed Watching where from the thicket's shade They saw the smoke appear. And joy through all the army ran, "Soon shall we meet," thought every man, "The prince we hold so dear."

"Fear, Ravan, basest of the base: For of mine own imperial race A prince in after time shall spring And thee and thine to ruin bring. And Vedavati,(966) ere she died Slain by my ruthless insult, cried: "A scion of my royal line Shall slay, vile wretch, both thee and thine." She in a later birth became King Janak's child, now Rama's dame. Nandisvara(967) foretold this fate, And Uma(968) when I moved her hate, And Rambha,(969) and the lovely child Of Varun(970) by my touch defiled. I know the fated hour is nigh: Hence, captains, to your stations fly. Let warders on the rampart stand: Place at each gate a watchful band; And, terror of immortal eyes, Let mightiest Kumbhakarna rise. He, slumbering, free from care and pain, By Brahma's curse, for months has lain. But when Prahasta's death he hears, Mine own defeat and doubts and fears, The chief will rise to smite the foe And his unrivalled valour show. Then Raghu's royal sons and all The Vanars neath his might will fall."

Thus wailed he broken by his woes: But swift the thought of vengeance rose. In awful wrath his teeth he gnashed, And from his eyes red lightning flashed. Hot from his mouth came fire and smoke, As thus the king in fury spoke:

The maidens went, consoled, away: The best of kings, that very day, Summoned his ministers of state About their marriage to debate. Since then, because the Wind-God bent The damsels' forms for punishment, That royal town is known to fame By Kanyakubja's(174) borrowed name.

Whate'er, by duty won, the meed Of saints whom roots and berries feed, One fourth thereof, for tender care Of subjects, is the monarch's share. These, mostly of the Brahman race, Who make the wood their dwelling-place, Although a friend in thee they view, Fall friendless neath the giant crew. Come, Rama, come, and see hard by The holy hermits' corpses lie, Where many a tangled pathway shows The murderous work of cruel foes. These wicked fiends the hermits kill-- Who live on Chitrakuta's hill, And blood of slaughtered saints has dyed Mandakini and Pampa's side. No longer can we bear to see The death of saint and devotee Whom through the forest day by day These Rakshasas unpitying slay. To thee, O Prince, we flee, and crave Thy guardian help our lives to save. From these fierce rovers of the night Defend each stricken anchorite. Throughout the world 'twere vain to seek An arm like thine to aid the weak. O Prince, we pray thee hear our call, And from these fiends preserve us all."

Dismissed with every honour due The Vanar from the spot withdrew. Then joyous thought the Wind-God's son: "The mighty task is wellnigh done. The three expedients I must leave; The fourth alone can I achieve.(870) These dwellers in the giants' isle No arts of mine can reconcile. I cannot bribe: I cannot sow Dissension mid the Rakshas foe. Arts, gifts, address, these fiends despise; But force shall yet their king chastise. Perchance he may relent when all The bravest of his chieftains fall. This lovely grove will I destroy, The cruel Ravan's pride and joy. The garden where he takes his ease Mid climbing plants and flowery trees That lift their proud tops to the skies, Dear to the tyrant as his eyes. Then will he rouse in wrath, and lead His legions with the car and steed And elephants in long array, And seek me thirsty for the fray. The Rakshas legions will I meet, And all his bravest host defeat; Then, glorious from the bloody plain, Turn to my lord the king again."

Cheered by the grace the Immortals showed The chieftain on the chariot rode. Then as the car-borne warriors met The awful fight raged fiercer yet. Each shaft that Ravan shot became A serpent red with kindled flame, And round the limbs of Rama hung With fiery jaws and quivering tongue. But every serpent fled dismayed When Raghu's valiant son displayed The weapon of the Feathered King,(998) And loosed his arrows from the string. But Ravan armed his bow anew, And showers of shafts at Rama flew, While the fierce king in swift career Smote with a dart the charioteer. An arrow shot by Ravan's hand Laid the proud banner on the sand, And Indra's steeds of heavenly strain Fell by the iron tempest slain. On Gods and spirits of the air Fell terror, trembling, and despair. The sea's white billows mounted high With froth and foam to drench the sky. The sun by lurid clouds was veiled, The friendly lights of heaven were paled; And, fiercely gleaming, fiery Mars Opposed the beams of gentler stars.

Success at last the rite had crowned, And Visvamitra gazed around, And seeing every side at rest, The son of Raghu thus addressed: "My joy, O Prince, is now complete: Thou hast obeyed my will: Perfect before, this calm retreat Is now more perfect still."

Thus Rama spoke: then nearer came And looking on his moonbright dame, "Sita, the king is gone," he said: "And Lakshman, know thy sire is dead, And with the Gods on high enrolled: This mournful news has Bharat told." He spoke: the noble youths with sighs Rained down the torrents from their eyes. And then the brothers of the chief With words of comfort soothed his grief: "Now to the king our sire who swayed The earth be due libations paid." Soon as the monarch's fate she knew, Sharp pangs of grief smote Sita through: Nor could she look upon her lord With eyes from which the torrents poured. And Rama strove with tender care To soothe the weeping dame's despair, And then, with piercing woe distressed, The mournful Lakshman thus addressed: "Brother, I pray thee bring for me The pressed fruit of the Ingudi, And a bark mantle fresh and new, That I may pay this offering due. First of the three shall Sita go, Next thou, and I the last: for so Moves the funereal pomp of woe."(379)

Meanwhile the rushing wind grew loud, Red lightnings flashed from banks of cloud. The mountains shook, the wild waves rose, And smitten with resistless blows Unrooted fell each stately tree That fringed the margin of the sea. All life within the waters feared Then, as the Vanars gazed, appeared King Garud's self, a wondrous sight, Disclosed in flames of fiery light. From his fierce eye in sudden dread All serpents in a moment fled. And those transformed to shaft that bound The princes vanished in the ground. On Raghu's sons his eyes he bent, And hailed the lords armipotent. Then o'er them stooped the feathered king, And touched their faces with his wing. His healing touch their pangs allayed, And closed each rent the shafts had made. Again their eyes were bright and bold, Again the smooth skin shone like gold. Again within their shell enshrined Came memory and each power of mind: And, from those numbing bonds released, Their spirit, zeal, and strength increased. Firm on their feet they stood, and then Thus Rama spake, the lord of men:

Thus spoke the prince of boundless might, And thus replied the anchorite: "Chief of the mighty arm, of yore Lord Vishnu whom the Gods adore, For holy thought and rites austere Of penance made his dwelling here. This ancient wood was called of old Grove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled, And when perfection he attained The grove the name of Perfect gained. Bali of yore, Virochan's son, Dominion over Indra won, And when with power his proud heart swelled, O'er the three worlds his empire held. When Bali then began a rite, The Gods and Indra in affright Sought Vishnu in this place of rest, And thus with prayers the God addressed: "Bali. Virochan's mighty son, His sacrifice has now begun: Of boundless wealth, that demon king Is bounteous to each living thing. Though suppliants flock from every side The suit of none is e'er denied. Whate'er, where'er howe'er the call, He hears the suit and gives to all. Now with thine own illusive art Perform, O Lord, the helper's part: Assume a dwarfish form, and thus From fear and danger rescue us."(167)

As Lakshman still his vigil held By unaffected love impelled, Guha, whose heart the sight distressed, With words like these the prince addressed: "Beloved youth, this pleasant bed Was brought for thee, for thee is spread; On this, my Prince, thine eyelids close, And heal fatigue with sweet repose. My men are all to labour trained, But hardship thou hast ne'er sustained. All we this night our watch will keep And guard Kakutstha's son asleep. In all the world there breathes not one More dear to me than Raghu's son. The words I speak, heroic youth, Are true: I swear it by my truth. Through his dear grace supreme renown Will, so I trust, my wishes crown. So shall my life rich store obtain Of merit, blest with joy and gain. While Raghu's son and Sita lie Entranced in happy slumber, I Will, with my trusty bow in hand, Guard my dear friend with all my band. To me, who oft these forests range, Is naught therein or new or strange. We could with equal might oppose A four-fold army led by foes."

Thus by the Lord of Gods addressed, Trisanku fell from fancied rest, And screaming in his swift descent, "O, save me, Hermit!" down he went. And Visvamitra heard his cry, And marked him falling from the sky, And giving all his passion sway, Cried out in fury, "Stay, O stay!" By penance-power and holy lore, Like Him who framed the worlds of yore, Seven other saints he fixed on high To star with light the southern sky. Girt with his sages forth he went, And southward in the firmament New wreathed stars prepared to set In many a sparkling coronet. He threatened, blind with rage and hate, Another Indra to create, Or, from his throne the ruler hurled, All Indraless to leave the world. Yea, borne away by passion's storm, The sage began new Gods to form. But then each Titan, God, and saint, Confused with terror, sick and faint, To high souled Visvamitra hied, And with soft words to soothe him tried: "Lord of high destiny, this king, To whom his master's curses cling, No heavenly home deserves to gain, Unpurified from curse and stain."

Now all the giant race await, Destroyed by thee, a speedy fate, Ruled by a king so cruel-souled, Foolish in heart and uncontrolled. Think not I fear the sudden blow That threatens now to lay me low: I mourn the ruin that I see Impending o'er thy host and thee. Me first perchance will Rama kill, But soon his hand thy blood will spill. I die, and if by Rama slain And not by thee, I count it gain. Soon as the hero's face I see His angry eyes will murder me, And if on her thy hands thou lay Thy friends and thou are dead this day. If with my help thou still must dare The lady from her lord to tear, Farewell to all our days are o'er, Lanka and giants are no more. In vain, in vain, an earnest friend, I warn thee, King, and pray. Thou wilt not to my prayers attend, Or heed the words I say So men, when life is fleeting fast And death's sad hour is nigh, Heedless and blinded to the last Reject advice and die."

Sardula heard, but scarce might speak; His trembling tones were faint and weak: "O Giant King, in vain we try The purpose of the foe to spy. Their strength and number none may tell, And Rama guards his legions well. He leaves no hope to prying eyes, And parley with the chiefs denies: Each road and path a Vanar guard, Of mountain size, has closed and barred. Soon as my feet an entrance found By giants was I seized and bound, And wounded sore I fell beneath Their fists and knees and hands and teeth. Then trembling, bleeding, wellnigh dead To Rama's presence was I led. He in his mercy stooped to save, And freedom to the captive gave. With rocks and shattered mountains he Has bridged his way athwart the sea, And he and all his legions wait Embattled close to Lanka's gate. Soon will the host thy wall assail, And, swarming on, the rampart scale. Now, O my King, his consort yield, Or arm thee with the sword and shield. This choice is left thee: choose between Thy safety and the Maithil queen."(943)

The saint, well read in holy lore, Pondered awhile his answer o'er, And thus again addressed the king, His wandering thoughts regathering: "Another rite will I begin Which shall the sons thou cravest win, Where all things shall be duly sped And first Atharva texts be read."

"Does Rama's mother give away Rich largess to the crowds to-day, On some dear object fondly bent, Or blest with measureless content? What mean these signs of rare delight On every side that meet my sight? Say, will the king with joy elate Some happy triumph celebrate?"

The saint Vasishtha, best of all Whose words with moving wisdom fall, Bharat, Kaikeyi's son, addressed, Whom burning fires of grief distressed: "O Prince, whose fame is widely spread, Enough of grief: be comforted. The time is come: arise, and lay Upon the pyre the monarch's clay."

Thus, by fraternal love possessed, His firm resolve the prince expressed, Then to Sumantra, deeply read In holy texts, he turned and said: "Sumantra, rise without delay, And as I bid my words obey. Give orders for the march with speed, And all the army hither lead."

"A prince with mighty shoulders, sprung From Dasaratha, brave and young, With arms well moulded, bears the name Of Rama with a lion's frame. Renowned, successful, dark of limb, Earth has no warrior equals him. He fought in Janasthan and slew Dushan the fierce and Khara too."

Thus King Sampati spoke and sighed: And royal Angad thus replied: "If, brother of Jatayus, thou Hast heard the tale I told but now, Obedient to mine earnest prayer The dwelling of that fiend declare. O, say where cursed Ravan dwells, Whom folly to his death impels."

Obedient to the high request By Bharadvaja thus addressed, His reverent hands together laid, He, skilled in speech, his answer made: "She whom, O Saint, thou seest here A Goddess in her form appear, Was the chief consort of the king, Now worn with fast and sorrowing. As Aditi in days of yore The all-preserving Vishnu bore, Kausalya bore with happy fate Lord Rama of the lion's gait. She who, transfixed with torturing pangs, On her left arm so fondly hangs, As when her withering leaves decay Droops by the wood the Cassia spray, Sumitra, pained with woe, is she, The consort second of the three: Two princely sons the lady bare, Fair as the Gods in heaven are fair. And she, the wicked dame through whom My brothers' lives are wrapped in gloom, And mourning for his offspring dear, The king has sought his heavenly sphere,-- Proud, foolish-hearted, swift to ire, Self-fancied darling of my sire, Kaikeyi, most ambitious queen, Unlovely with her lovely mien, My mother she, whose impious will Is ever bent on deeds of ill, In whom the root and spring I see Of all this woe which crushes me."

While Khara, urged by valiant rage, Drew near that little hermitage, Those wondrous signs in earth and sky Smote on each prince's watchful eye. When Rama saw those signs of woe Fraught with destruction to the foe, With bold impatience scarce repressed His brother chief he thus addressed:

The giant viewed with earnest ken The Vanars and the lords of men; Then thus, with grief and anger moved, In bitter tone the spies reproved: "Can faithful servants hope to please Their master with such fates as these? Or hope ye with wild words to wring The bosom of your lord and king? Such words were better said by those Who come arrayed our mortal foes. In vain your ears have heard the sage, And listened to the lore of age, Untaught, though lectured many a day, The first great lesson, to obey, 'Tis marvel Ravan reigns and rules Whose counsellors are blind and fools. Has death no terrors that ye dare To tempt your monarch to despair, From whose imperial mandate flow Disgrace and honour, weal and woe? Yea, forest trees, when flames are fanned About their scorching trunks, may stand; But naught can set the sinner free When kings the punishment decree. I would not in mine anger spare The traitorous foe-praising pair, But years of faithful service plead For pardon, and they shall not bleed. Henceforth to me be dead: depart, Far from my presence and my heart."

But Indra, when he saw the king His blissful regions entering, With all the army of the Blest Thus cried unto the unbidden guest: "With thy best speed, Trisanku, flee: Here is no home prepared for thee. By thy great master's curse brought low, Go, falling headlong, earthward go."

Kaikeyi's praise the damsel heard, And thus again her lady stirred, Who lay upon her beauteous bed Like fire upon the altar fed: "Dear Queen, they build the bridge in vain When swollen streams are dry again. Arise, thy glorious task complete, And draw the king to thy retreat."

Urged by the lord of men to speak, Whose sobbing voice came faint and weak, Thus he, while tears his utterance broke, In answer to the monarch spoke: "Hear then the words that Rama said, Resolved in duty's path to tread. Joining his hands, his head he bent, And gave this message, reverent: "Sumantra, to my father go, Whose lofty mind all people know: Bow down before him, as is meet, And in my stead salute his feet. Then to the queen my mother bend, And give the greeting that I send: Ne'er may her steps from duty err, And may it still be well with her. And add this word: "O Queen, pursue Thy vows with faithful heart and true; And ever at due season turn Where holy fires of worship burn. And, lady, on our lord bestow Such honour as to Gods we owe. Be kind to every queen: let pride And thought of self be cast aside. In the king's fond opinion raise Kaikeyi, by respect and praise. Let the young Bharat ever be Loved, honoured as the king by thee: Thy king-ward duty ne'er forget: High over all are monarchs set."

"No danger, brother, can I see: The Maithil dame I will not free. Though all the Gods for Rama fight, He yields to my superior might." Thus the tremendous king who broke The ranks of heavenly warriors spoke, And, sternly purposed to resist, His brother from the hall dismissed.

The saint in accents sweet and clear Thus told his tale for Rama's ear, And thus anew the holy man A legend to the prince began: "There reigned a pious monarch o'er Ayodhya in the days of yore: Sagar his name: no child had he, And children much he longed to see. His honoured consort, fair of face, Sprang from Vidarbha's royal race, Kesini, famed from early youth For piety and love of truth. Arishtanemi's daughter fair, With whom no maiden might compare In beauty, though the earth is wide, Sumati, was his second bride. With his two queens afar he went, And weary days in penance spent, Fervent, upon Himalaya's hill Where springs the stream called Bhrigu' rill. Nor did he fail that saint to please With his devout austerities. And, when a hundred years had fled, Thus the most truthful Bhrigu said: "From thee, O Sagar, blameless King, A mighty host of sons shall spring, And thou shalt win a glorious name Which none, O Chief, but thou shall claim. One of thy queens a son shall bear, Maintainer of thy race and heir; And of the other there shall be Sons sixty thousand born to thee."

Ikshvaku's son with anguish torn For the great oath his lips had sworn, With tears and sighs of sharpest pain Thus to Sumantra spake again: "Prepare thou quick a perfect force, Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse, To follow Raghu's scion hence Equipped with all magnificence. Let traders with the wealth they sell, And those who charming stories tell, And dancing-women fair of face, The prince's ample chariots grace. On all the train who throng his courts, And those who share his manly sports, Great gifts of precious wealth bestow, And bid them with their master go. Let noble arms, and many a wain, And townsmen swell the prince's train; And hunters best for woodland skill Their places in the concourse fill. While elephants and deer he slays, Drinking wood honey as he strays, And looks on streams each fairer yet, His kingdom he may chance forget. Let all my gold and wealth of corn With Rama to the wilds be borne; For it will soothe the exile's lot To sacrifice in each pure spot, Deal ample largess forth, and meet Each hermit in his calm retreat. The wealth shall Rama with him bear, Ayodhya shall be Bharat's share."

As the sad tale of sin I told The hermit's grief was uncontrolled. With flooded eyes, and sorrow-faint, Thus spake the venerable saint: I stood with hand to hand applied, And listened as he spoke and sighed: "If thou, O King, hadst left unsaid By thine own tongue this tale of dread, Thy head for hideous guilt accursed Had in a thousand pieces burst. A hermit's blood by warrior spilt, In such a case, with purposed guilt, Down from his high estate would bring Even the thunder's mighty King. And he a dart who conscious sends Against the devotee who spends His pure life by the law of Heaven-- That sinner's head will split in seven. Thou livest, for thy heedless hand Has wrought a deed thou hast not planned, Else thou and all of Raghu's line Had perished by this act of thine. Now guide us," thus the hermit said, "Forth to the spot where he lies dead. Guide us, this day, O Monarch, we For the last time our son would see: The hermit dress of skin he wore Rent from his limbs distained with gore; His senseless body lying slain, His soul in Yama's dark domain."

Thus spoke the prince whose chief delight Was duty, and to aid the right: And Lakshman keenly felt the blame, And shrank within himself for shame: And then his answer thus returned, With downcast eye and cheek that burned: "Brother, I ween, to see thy face Our sire himself has sought this place." Thus Lakshman spoke and stood ashamed, And Rama saw and thus exclaimed: "It is the strong-armed monarch: he Is come, methinks, his sons to see, To bid us both the forest quit For joys for which he deems us fit: He thinks on all our care and pain, And now would lead us home again. My glorious father hence will bear Sita who claims all tender care. I see two coursers fleet as storms, Of noble breed and lovely forms. I see the beast of mountain size Who bears the king our father wise, The aged Victor, march this way In front of all the armed array. But doubt and fear within me rise, For when I look with eager eyes I see no white umbrella spread, World-famous, o'er the royal head. Now, Lakshman, from the tree descend, And to my words attention lend."

"Lost was my power," the king replied, "All strength had fled, all hope had died. The Vanars owned another lord, But by thy grace was all restored. All this, O conqueror of the foe, To thee and Lakshman's aid I owe. And his should be the villain's shame Who durst deny the sacred claim. These Vanar chiefs of noblest birth Have at my bidding roamed the earth, And brought from distant regions all Our legions at their monarch's call: Fierce bears with monkey troops combined, And apes of every varied kind, Terrific in their forms, who dwell In grove and wood and bosky dell: The bright Gandharvas' brood, the seed Of Gods,(649) they change their shapes at need. Each with his legions in array, Hither, O Prince, they make their way. They come: and tens of millions swell To numbers that no tongue may tell.(650) For thee their armies will unite With chiefs, Mahendra's peers in might. From Meru and from Vindhya's chain They come like clouds that bring the rain. These round thee to the war will go, To smite to earth thy demon foe; Will slay the Rakshas and restore Thy consort when the fight is o'er."

With wondrous power and might and skill The giant fought with Rama still. Each at his foe his chariot drove, And still for death or victory strove. The warriors' steeds together dashed, And pole with pole reechoing clashed. Then Rama launching dart on dart Made Ravan's coursers swerve and start. Nor was the lord of Lanka slow To rain his arrows on the foe, Who showed, by fiery points assailed, No trace of pain, nor shook nor quailed. Dense clouds of arrows Rama shot With that strong arm which rested not, And spear and mace and club and brand Fell in dire rain from Ravan's hand. The storm of missiles fiercely cast Stirred up the oceans with its blast, And Serpent-Gods and fiends who dwell Below were troubled by the swell. The earth with hill and plain and brook And grove and garden reeled and shook: The very sun grew cold and pale, And horror stilled the rising gale. God and Gandharva, sage and saint Cried out, with grief and terror faint: "O may the prince of Raghu's line Give peace to Brahmans and to kine, And, rescuing the worlds, o'erthrow The giant king our awful foe."

As Saint Vasishtha answered so, Nor let the cow of plenty go, The monarch, as a last resource, Began to drag her off by force. While the king's servants tore away Their moaning, miserable prey, Sad, sick at heart, and sore distressed, She pondered thus within her breast: "Why am I thus forsaken? why Betrayed by him of soul most high. Vasishtha, ravished by the hands Of soldiers of the monarch's bands? Ah me! what evil have I done Against the lofty-minded one, That he, so pious, can expose The innocent whose love he knows?" In her sad breast as thus she thought, And heaved deep sighs with anguish fraught, With wondrous speed away she fled, And back to Saint Vasishtha sped. She hurled by hundreds to the ground The menial crew that hemmed her round, And flying swifter than the blast Before the saint herself she cast. There Dapple-skin before the saint Stood moaning forth her sad complaint, And wept and lowed: such tones as come From wandering cloud or distant drum. "O son of Brahma," thus cried she, "Why hast thou thus forsaken me, That the king's men, before thy face, Bear off thy servant from her place?"