Ramayana on Love

Again her eyes with tears o'erflowed: She gazed upon the head he showed, Gazed on the bow so famed of yore, The glorious bow which Rama bore. She gazed upon his cheek and brows, The eyes of her beloved spouse; His lips, the lustre of his hair, The priceless gem that glittered there. The features of her lord she knew, And, pierced with anguish at the view, She lifted up her voice and cried: "Kaikeyi, art thou satisfied? Now all thy longings are fulfilled; The joy of Raghu's race is killed, And ruined is the ancient line, Destroyer, by that fraud of thine. Ah, what offence, O cruel dame, What fault in Rama couldst thou blame, To drive him clad in hermit dress With Sita to the wilderness?"

"Art thou the brother of the Lord Of Gold by all the world adored, And sprung of that illustrious seed Wouldst now attempt this evil deed? I tell thee, impious Monarch, all The giants by thy sin will fall, Whose reckless lord and king thou art, With foolish mind and lawless heart. Yea, one may hope to steal the wife Of Indra and escape with life. But he who Rama's dame would tear From his loved side must needs despair. Yea, one may steal fair Sachi, dame Of Him who shoots the thunder flame, May live successful in his aim And length of day may see; But hope, O giant King, in vain, Though cups of Amrit thou may drain, To shun the penalty and pain Of wronging one like me."

Then with fierce eyes on Sita set They cried again with taunt and threat: Each licking with her fiery tongue The lip that to her bosom hung, And menacing the lady's life With axe, or spear or murderous knife: "Hear, Sita, and our words obey, Or perish by our hands to-day. Thy love for Raghu's son forsake, And Ravan for thy husband take, Or we will rend thy limbs apart And banquet on thy quivering heart. Now from her body strike the head, And tell the king the dame is dead. Then by our lord's commandment she A banquet for our band shall be. Come, let the wine be quickly brought That frees each heart from saddening thought. Then to the western gate repair, And we will dance and revel there."

In eager love thus Bharat cried, And thus the Wind-God's son replied: "Look, Bharat, on those laden trees That murmur with the song of bees; For Rama's sake the saint has made Untimely fruits, unwonted shade. Such power in ages long ago Could Indra's gracious boon bestow. O, hear the Vanars' voices, hear The shouting which proclaims them near. E'en now about to cross they seem Sweet Gomati's delightful stream. I see, I see the car designed By Brahma's own creative mind, The car which, radiant as the moon, Moves at the will by Brahma's boon; The car which once was Ravan's pride, The victor's spoil when Ravan died. Look, there are Raghu's sons: between The brothers stands the rescued queen. There is Vibhishan full in view, Sugriva and his retinue."

The royal sage, his suit denied, With eloquence more earnest cried: "Tusked elephants, a goodly train, Each with a golden girth and chain, Whose goads with gold well fashioned shine-- Of these be twice seven thousand thine. And four-horse cars with gold made bright, With steeds most beautifully white, Whose bells make music as they go, Eight hundred, Saint, will I bestow. Eleven thousand mettled steeds From famous lands, of noble breeds-- These will I gladly give, O thou Devoted to each holy vow. Ten million heifers, fair to view, Whose sides are marked with every hue-- These in exchange will I assign; But let thy Dapple-skin be mine. Ask what thou wilt, and piles untold Of priceless gems and gleaming gold, O best of Brahmans, shall be thine; But let thy Dapple-skin be mine."

Thus for their deep affection's sake The hero to his mother spake, Then to the half seven hundred too, Wives of his sire, paid reverence due. Thus Dasaratha's son addressed That crowd of matrons sore distressed: "If from these lips, while here I dwelt, One heedless taunt you e'er have felt, Forgive me, pray. And now adieu, I bid good-bye to all of you." Then straight, like curlews' cries, upwent The voices of their wild lament, While, as he bade farewell, the crowd Of royal women wept aloud, And through the ample hall's extent. Where erst the sound of tabour, blent With drum and shrill-toned instrument, In joyous concert rose, Now rang the sound of wailing high, The lamentation and the cry, The shriek, the choking sob, the sigh That told the ladies' woes.

On Rama's left Vibhishan view, With giants for his retinue: King-making drops have dewed his head, Appointed monarch in thy stead. Behold that chieftain sternly still, High towering like a rooted hill, Supreme in power and pride of place, The monarch of the Vanar race. Raised high above his woodland kind, In might and glory, frame and mind, His head above his host he shows Conspicuous as the Lord of Snows. His home is far from hostile eyes Where deep in woods Kishkindha lies. A glistering chain which flowers bedeck With burnished gold adorns his neck. Queen Fortune, loved by Gods and kings, To him her chosen favourite clings. That chain he owes to Rama's grace, And Tara and his kingly place. In him the great Sugriva know, Whom Rama rescued from his foe."(942)

Then Rama, as she spoke distressed, The feet of Saint Vasishtha pressed, Touched them with reverential love, Then near him took his seat: Thus Indra clasps in realms above The Heavenly Teacher's(380) feet. Then with each counsellor and peer, Bharat of duteous mind, With citizens and captains near, Sat humbly down behind. When with his hands to him upraised, In devotee's attire, Bharat upon his brother gazed Whose glory shone like fire, As when the pure Mahendra bends To the great Lord of Life, Among his noble crowd of friends This anxious thought was rife: "What words to Raghu's son to-day Will royal Bharat speak, Whose heart has been so prompt to pay Obeisance fond and meek?" Then steadfast Rama, Lakshman wise, Bharat for truth renowned, Shone like three fires that heavenward rise With holy priests around.

Forth from the mountain cavern came The hero Lakshman with the dame. And rapture beaming from his face, Resought the hermit dwelling-place. Then when the mighty saints had paid Due honour for the victor's aid, The glorious Rama honoured too By Lakshman to his cot withdrew. When Sita looked upon her lord, His foemen slain, the saints restored, In pride and rapture uncontrolled She clasped him in her loving hold. On the dead fiends her glances fell: She saw her lord alive and well, Victorious after toil and pain, And Janak's child was blest again. Once more, once more with new delight Her tender arms she threw Round Rama whose victorious might Had crushed the demon crew. Then as his grateful reverence paid Each saint of lofty soul, O'er her sweet face, all fears allayed, The flush of transport stole.

Then Bharat shook in every limb As suppliant thus he spake to him: "The duty of a king respect, Held by our race in high respect: And O, thy gracious ear incline To heed my mother's prayer and mine. The mighty realm to rule and guard For me alone is task too hard. No power have I the love to gain Of noble, citizen, and swain. All those who know thee, warrior, friend, On thee their eager glances bend, As labouring hinds who till the plain Look fondly for the Lord of Rain. O wisest Prince, thy realm secure, And make its firm foundations sure. Kakutstha's son, thy mighty arm Can keep the nation free from harm." He spoke, and fell in sorrow drowned At Rama's feet upon the ground, And there the hero sued and sighed, And "Hear me, Raghu's son," he cried.

His hands in reverence Rama raised And southward o'er the ocean gazed; Then on the sacred grass that made His lowly couch his limbs he laid. His head on that strong arm reclined Which Sita, best of womankind, Had loved in happier days to hold With soft arms decked with pearls and gold. Then rising from his bed of grass, "This day," he cried, "the host shall pass Triumphant to the southern shore, Or Ocean's self shall be no more." Thus vowing in his constant breast Again he turned him to his rest, And there, his eyes in slumber closed, Silent beside the sea reposed. Thrice rose the Day-God thrice he set, The lord of Ocean came not yet, Thrice came the night, but Raghu's son No answer by his service won. To Lakshman thus the hero cried, His eyes aflame with wrath and pride:

And with delight his bosom swelled As onward still his course he held Through many a sumptuous court Like Indra's palace nobly made, Where peacocks revelled in the shade, And beasts of silvan sort. Through many a hall and chamber wide, That with Kailasa's splendour vied. Or mansions of the Blest, While Rama's friends, beloved and tried, Before his coming stepped aside, Still on Sumantra pressed. He reached the chamber door, where stood Around his followers young and good, Bard, minstrel, charioteer, Well skilled the tuneful chords to sweep, With soothing strain to lull to sleep, Or laud their master dear. Then, like a dolphin darting through Unfathomed depths of ocean's blue With store of jewels decked, Through crowded halls that rock-like rose, Or as proud hills where clouds repose, Sumantra sped unchecked-- Halls like the glittering domes on high Reared for the dwellers of the sky By heavenly architect.

My shafts this day, for Sita's sake, The life of every fiend shall take. The Gods this day shall see the force That wings my arrows on their course, And mark how far that course is held, By my unsparing wrath impelled. No God, not one of Daitya strain, Goblin or Rakshas shall remain. My wrath shall end the worlds, and all Demons and Gods therewith shall fall. Each world which Gods, the Danav race, And giants make their dwelling place, Shall fall beneath my arrows sent In fury when my bow is bent. The arrows loosened from my string Confusion on the worlds shall bring. For she is lost or breathes no more, Nor will the Gods my love restore. Hence all on earth with life and breath This day I dedicate to death. All, till my darling they reveal, The fury of my shafts shall feel."

Obedient to his master's hest Quick from the cot he brought the vest; The hermit took it from his hand, And tightened round his waist the band; Then duly dipped and bathed him there, And muttered low his secret prayer. To spirits and to Gods he made Libation of the stream, and strayed Viewing the forest deep and wide That spread its shade on every side. Close by the bank he saw a pair Of curlews sporting fearless there. But suddenly with evil mind An outcast fowler stole behind, And, with an aim too sure and true, The male bird near the hermit slew. The wretched hen in wild despair With fluttering pinions beat the air, And shrieked a long and bitter cry When low on earth she saw him lie, Her loved companion, quivering, dead, His dear wings with his lifeblood red; And for her golden crested mate She mourned, and was disconsolate.

For wandering fiends, whose watchful spite Waits eagerly to spoil each rite, Hunting with keenest eye detect The slightest slip, the least neglect; And when the sacred work is crossed The workman is that moment lost. Let preparation due be made: Your powers the charge can meet: That so the noble rite be paid In every point complete." And all the Brahmans answered, Yea, His mandate honouring, And gladly promised to obey The order of the king. They cried with voices raised aloud: "Success attend thine aim!" Then bade farewell, and lowly bowed, And hastened whence they came. King Dasaratha went within, His well loved wives to see: And said: "Your lustral rites begin, For these shall prosper me. A glorious offering I prepare That precious fruit of sons may bear." Their lily faces brightened fast Those pleasant words to hear, As lilies, when the winter's past, In lovelier hues appear.

At length a spirit, loving ill, Tadaka, wearing shapes at will, Whose mighty strength, exceeding vast, A thousand elephants, surpassed, Was to fierce Sunda, lord and head Of all the demon armies, wed. From her, Lord Indra's peer in might Giant Maricha sprang to light: And she, a constant plague and pest, These two fair realms has long distressed. Now dwelling in her dark abode A league away she bars the road: And we, O Rama, hence must go Where lies the forest of the foe. Now on thine own right arm rely, And my command obey: Smite the foul monster that she die, And take the plague away. To reach this country none may dare Fallen from its old estate, Which she, whose fury naught can bear, Has left so desolate. And now my truthful tale is told How with accursed sway The spirit plagued this wood of old, And ceases not to-day."

The suit the holy sage preferred, With willing ear the monarch heard: Vasishtha's lips the counsel praised: Then spake the king with hands upraised: "Now blest indeed my race I deem, Which your high will, O Saints supreme, With Dasaratha's house unites In bonds of love and marriage rites. So be it done. My nieces twain Let Bharat and Satrughna gain, And the four youths the selfsame day Four maiden hands in theirs shall lay. No day so lucky may compare, For marriage--so the wise declare-- With the last day of Phalguni Ruled by the genial deity." Then with raised hands in reverence due To those arch-saints he spoke anew: "I am your pupil, ever true: To me high favour have ye shown; Come, sit ye on my royal throne, For Dasaratha rules these towers E'en as Ayodhya now is ours. Do with your own whate'er ye choose: Your lordship here will none refuse."

Then Rama to his bosom drew Dear Bharat and Satrughna too: "Be never wroth," he cried, "with her, Kaikeyi's guardian minister: This, glory of Ikshvaku's line, Is Sita's earnest prayer and mine." He spoke, and as the big tears fell, To his dear brother bade farewell. Round Rama, Bharat strong and bold In humble reverence paced, When the bright sandals wrought with gold Above his brows were placed. The royal elephant who led The glorious pomp he found, And on the monster's mighty head Those sandals duly bound. Then noble Rama, born to swell The glories of his race, To all in order bade farewell With love and tender grace-- To brothers, counsellers, and peers,-- Still firm, in duty proved, Firm, as the Lord of Snow uprears His mountains unremoved. No queen, for choking sobs and sighs, Could say her last adieu: Then Rama bowed, with flooded eyes, And to his cot withdrew.

Arun and Garud swift of flight By Vinata were given to light, And sons of Arun red as morn Sampati first, then I was born, Me then, O tamer of the foe, Jatayus, son of Syeni, know. Thy ready helper will I be, And guard thy house, if thou agree: When thou and Lakshman urge the chase By Sita's side shall be my place." With courteous thanks for promised aid, The prince, to rapture stirred, Bent low, and due obeisance paid, Embraced the royal bird. He often in the days gone by Had heard his father tell How, linked with him in friendship's tie, He loved Jatayus well. He hastened to his trusted friend His darling to confide, And through the wood his steps to bend By strong Jatayus' side. On to the grove, with Lakshman near, The prince his way pursued To free those pleasant shades from fear And slay the giant brood.

"This royal bird with faithful thought For my advantage strove and fought. Slain by the fiend in mortal strife For me he yields his noble life. See, Lakshman, how his wounds have bled; His struggling breath will soon have fled. Faint is his voice, and near to die, He scarce can lift his trembling eye. Jatayus, if thou still can speak, Give, give the answer that I seek. The fate of ravished Sita tell, And how thy mournful chance befell. Say why the giant stole my dame: What have I done that he could blame? What fault in me has Ravan seen That he should rob me of my queen? How looked the lady's moon-bright cheek? What were the words she found to speak? His strength, his might, his deeds declare: And tell the form he loves to wear. To all my questions make reply: Where does the giant's dwelling lie?"

Then Bali ceased: his eyeballs rolled In stress of anguish uncontrolled His massive teeth were bared to view, And from the frame the spirit flew. Their lord and leader dead, the crowd Of noblest Vanars shrieked aloud: "Since thou, O King, hast sought the skies All desolate Kishkindha lies. Her woods, where Vanars loved to rove, Are empty now, and hill and grove. From every eye the light is fled, Since thou, our mighty lord, art dead. Thine was the unwearied arm that bore The brunt of deadly fight of yore With Golabh the Gandharva, when, Lasting through five long years and ten, The dreadful conflict knew no stay In gloom of night, in glare of day; And when the fifteenth year had past Thy dire opponent fell at last. If such a foeman fell beneath Our hero's arm and awful teeth Who freed us from our terror, how Is conquering Bali fallen now?"

"Thy rights, O Ravan, I allow: My brother and mine elder thou. Such, though from duty's path they stray, We love like fathers and obey, But still too bitter to be borne Is thy harsh speech of cruel scorn. The rash like thee, who spurn control, Nor check one longing of the soul, Urged by malignant fate repel The faithful friend who counsels well. A thousand courtiers wilt thou meet, With flattering lips of smooth deceit: But rare are they whose tongue or ear Will speak the bitter truth, or hear. Unclose thy blinded eyes and see That snares of death encompass thee. I dread, my brother, to behold The shafts of Rama, bright with gold, Flash fury through the air, and red With fires of vengeance strike thee dead. Lord, brother, King, again reflect, Nor this mine earnest prayer reject, O, save thyself, thy royal town, Thy people and thine old renown."

That moment brought Vibhishan near. Sugriva knew the cause of fear, And ordered Jambavan, who led The bears, to check the hosts that fled. The king of bears his hest obeyed: The Vanars' headlong flight was stayed. A little while Vibhishan eyed The brothers fallen side by side. His giant fingers wet with dew Across the heroes' eyes he drew, Still on the pair his sad look bent, And spoke these word in wild lament: "Ah for the mighty chiefs brought low By coward hand and stealthy blow! Brave pair who loved the open fight, Slain by that rover of the night. Dishonest is the victory won By Indrajit my brother's son. I on their might for aid relied, And in my cause they fought and died. Lost is the hope that soothed each pain: I live, but live no more to reign, While Lanka's lord, untouched by ill, Exults in safe defiance still."

"A great emprise, O lovely maid, To save the Gods, awaits thine aid: To bind the son of Kusik sure, And take his soul with love's sweet lure." Thus order'd by the Thousand-eyed The suppliant nymph in fear replied: "O Lord of Gods, this mighty sage Is very fierce and swift to rage. I doubt not, he so dread and stern On me his scorching wrath will turn. Of this, my lord, am I afraid: Have mercy on a timid maid." Her suppliant hands began to shake, When thus again Lord Indra spake: "O Rambha, drive thy fears away, And as I bid do thou obey. In Koil's form, who takes the heart When trees in spring to blossom start, I, with Kandarpa for my friend, Close to thy side mine aid will lend. Do thou thy beauteous splendour arm With every grace and winsome charm, And from his awful rites seduce This Kusik's son, the stern recluse."

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."

Think not of wretched Rama: he Is less than nothing now to thee. Stript of his glory, poor, dethroned, A wanderer by his friends disowned, On the cold earth he lays his head, Or is with toil and misery dead. And if perchance he lingers yet, His eyes on thee shall ne'er be set. Could he, that mighty monarch, who Was named Hiranyakasipu, Could he who wore the garb of gold Win Glory back from Indra's hold?(831) O lady of the lovely smile, Whose eyes the sternest heart beguile, In all thy radiant beauty dressed My heart and soul thou ravishest. What though thy robe is soiled and worn, And no bright gems thy limbs adorn, Thou unadorned art dearer far Than all my loveliest consorts are. My royal home is bright and fair; A thousand beauties meet me there, But come, my glorious love, and be The queen of all those dames and me."

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.

The father, with his consort's aid, The funeral rites with water paid, And thus his speech to me renewed Who stood in suppliant attitude: "Slay me this day, O, slay me, King, For death no longer has a sting. Childless am I: thy dart has done To death my dear, my only son. Because the boy I loved so well Slain by thy heedless arrow fell, My curse upon thy soul shall press With bitter woe and heaviness. I mourn a slaughtered child, and thou Shalt feel the pangs that kill me now. Bereft and suffering e'en as I, So shalt thou mourn thy son, and die. Thy hand unwitting dealt the blow That laid a holy hermit low, And distant, therefore, is the time When thou shalt suffer for the crime. The hour shall come when, crushed by woes Like these I feel, thy life shall close: A debt to pay in after days Like his the priestly fee who pays."

He ceased: and Rama thus replied: "Be not this grace, O sire, denied. Those hasty words, that curse revoke Which from thy lips in anger broke: "Kaikeyi, be no longer mine: I cast thee off, both thee and thine." O father, let no sorrow fall On her or hers: thy curse recall." "Yea, she shall live, if so thou wilt," The sire replied, "absolved from guilt." Round Lakshman then his arms he threw, And moved by love began anew: "Great store of merit shall be thine, And brightly shall thy glory shine; Secure on earth thy brother's grace. And high in heaven shall be thy place. Thy glorious king obey and fear: To him the triple world is dear. God, saint, and sage, by Indra led, To Rama bow the reverent head, Nor from the Lord, the lofty-souled, Their worship or their praise withhold. Heart of the Gods, supreme is he, The One who ne'er shall cease to be."

The hermit saw the slaughtered bird, And all his heart with ruth was stirred. The fowler's impious deed distressed His gentle sympathetic breast, And while the curlew's sad cries rang Within his ears, the hermit sang: "No fame be thine for endless time, Because, base outcast, of thy crime, Whose cruel hand was fain to slay One of this gentle pair at play!" E'en as he spoke his bosom wrought And laboured with the wondering thought What was the speech his ready tongue Had uttered when his heart was wrung. He pondered long upon the speech, Recalled the words and measured each, And thus exclaimed the saintly guide To Bharadvaja by his side: "With equal lines of even feet, With rhythm and time and tone complete, The measured form of words I spoke In shock of grief be termed a sloke."(46) And Bharadvaja, nothing slow His faithful love and zeal to show, Answered those words of wisdom, "Be The name, my lord, as pleases thee."

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."

Thus questioned Sita, Rama's dame. Then fierce the stranger's answer came: "Lord of the giant legions, he From whom celestial armies flee,-- The dread of hell and earth and sky, Ravan the Rakshas king am I. Now when thy gold-like form I view Arrayed in silks of amber hue, My love, O thou of perfect mould, For all my dames is dead and cold. A thousand fairest women, torn From many a land my home adorn. But come, loveliest lady, be The queen of every dame and me. My city Lanka, glorious town, Looks from a mountain's forehead down Where ocean with his flash and foam Beats madly on mine island home. With me, O Sita, shalt thou rove Delighted through each shady grove, Nor shall thy happy breast retain Fond memory of this life of pain. In gay attire, a glittering band, Five thousand maids shall round thee stand, And serve thee at thy beck and sign, If thou, fair Sita, wilt be mine."

He looked upon the burning waste, Then sought the queen in joyous haste, With words of hope consoled her heart, And made him ready to depart. He scaled Arishta's glorious steep Whose summits beetled o'er the deep. The woods in varied beauty dressed Hung like a garland round his crest, And clouds of ever changing hue A robe about his shoulders threw. On him the rays of morning fell To wake the hill they loved so well, And bid unclose those splendid eyes That glittered in his mineral dyes. He woke to hear the music made By thunders of the white cascade, While every laughing rill that sprang From crag to crag its carol sang. For arms, he lifted to the stars His towering stems of Deodars, And morning heard his pealing call In tumbling brook and waterfall. He trembled when his woods were pale And bowed beneath the autumn gale, And when his vocal reeds were stirred His melancholy moan was heard.

Then Trijata,(958) of gentler mould Though Rakshas born, her grief consoled: "Dear Queen, thy causeless woe dispel: Thy husband lives, and all is well. Look round: in every Vanar face The light of joyful hope I trace. Not thus, believe me, shine the eyes Of warriors when their leader dies. An Army, when the chief is dead, Flies from the field dispirited. Here, undisturbed in firm array, The Vanars by the brothers stay. Love prompts my speech; no longer grieve; Ponder my counsel, and believe. These lips of mine from earliest youth Have spoken, and shall speak, the truth. Deep in my heart thy gentle grace And patient virtues hold their place. Turn, lady, turn once more thine eye: Though pierced with shafts the heroes lie, On brows and cheeks with blood-drops wet The light of beauty lingers yet. Such beauty ne'er is found in death, But vanishes with parting breath. O, trust the hope these tokens give: The heroes are not dead, but live."

But there and in the kingdom's bound No thief or man impure was found: None of loose life or evil fame, No tempter of another's dame. Contented with their lot each caste Calm days in blissful quiet passed; And, all in fitting tasks employed, Country and town deep rest enjoyed, With these wise lords around his throne The monarch justly reigned, And making every heart his own The love of all men gained. With trusty agents, as beseems, Each distant realm he scanned, As the sun visits with his beams Each corner of the land. Ne'er would he on a mightier foe With hostile troops advance, Nor at an equal strike a blow In war's delusive chance. These lords in council bore their part With ready brain and faithful heart, With skill and knowledge, sense and tact, Good to advise and bold to act. And high and endless fame he won With these to guide his schemes, As, risen in his might, the sun Wins glory with his beams.

"Kausalya and Sumitra dear, And thou, my sweet Kaikeyi, hear. All upon Santa feast your gaze, The last time for a length of days." To Santa's arms the ladies leapt, And hung about her neck and wept, And cried, "O, happy be the life Of this great Brahman and his wife. The Wind, the Fire, the Moon on high, The Earth, the Streams, the circling Sky, Preserve thee in the wood, true spouse, Devoted to thy husband's vows. And O dear Santa, ne'er neglect To pay the dues of meek respect To the great saint, thy husband's sire, With all observance and with fire. And, sweet one, pure of spot and blame, Forget not thou thy husband's claim; In every change, in good and ill, Let thy sweet words delight him still, And let thy worship constant be: Her lord is woman's deity. To learn thy welfare, dearest friend, The king will many a Brahman send. Let happy thoughts thy spirit cheer, And be not troubled, daughter dear."

"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.

Auspicious breezes sweet and low To greet the Vanar army blow, And softly to my listening ear Come the glad cries of bird and deer. Bright is the sky around us, bright Without a cloud the Lord of Light, And Sukra(903) with propitious love Looks on thee from his throne above. The pole-star and the Sainted Seven(904) Shine brightly in the northern heaven, And great Trisanku,(905) glorious king, Ikshvaku's son from whom we spring, Beams in unclouded glory near His holy priest(906) whom all revere. Undimmed the two Visakhas(907) shine, The strength and glory of our line, And Nairrit's(908) influence that aids Our Rakshas foemen faints and fades. The running brooks are fresh and fair, The boughs their ripening clusters bear, And scented breezes gently sway The leaflet of the tender spray. See, with a glory half divine The Vanars' ordered legions shine, Bright as the Gods' exultant train Who saw the demon Tarak slain. O let thine eyes these signs behold, And bid thy heart be glad and bold."

Then glorious Kasyap thus replied To Diti, as she wept and sighed: "Thy prayer is heard, dear saint! Remain Pure from all spot, and thou shalt gain A son whose arm shall take the life Of Indra in the battle strife. For full a thousand years endure Free from all stain, supremely pure; Then shall thy son and mine appear, Whom the three worlds shall serve with fear." These words the glorious Kasyap said, Then gently stroked his consort's head, Blessed her, and bade a kind adieu, And turned him to his rites anew. Soon as her lord had left her side, Her bosom swelled with joy and pride. She sought the shade of holy boughs, And there began her awful vows. While yet she wrought her rites austere, Indra, unbidden, hastened near, With sweet observance tending her, A reverential minister. Wood, water, fire, and grass he brought, Sweet roots and woodland fruit he sought, And all her wants, the Thousand-eyed, With never-failing care, supplied, With tender love and soft caress Removing pain and weariness.

The king was welcomed in, and shown A seat beside the hermit's own, Who offered him, when resting there, Fruit in due course, and woodland fare. And Visvamitra, noblest king, Received Vasishtha's welcoming, Turned to his host, and prayed him tell That he and all with him were well. Vasishtha to the king replied That all was well on every side, That fire, and vows, and pupils throve, And all the trees within the grove. And then the son of Brahma, best Of all who pray with voice suppressed, Questioned with pleasant words like these The mighty king who sate at ease: "And is it well with thee? I pray; And dost thou win by virtuous sway Thy people's love, discharging all The duties on a king that fall? Are all thy servants fostered well? Do all obey, and none rebel? Hast thou, destroyer of the foe, No enemies to overthrow? Does fortune, conqueror! still attend Thy treasure, host, and every friend? Is it all well? Does happy fate On sons and children's children wait?"

The priest advancing slowly through The mighty crowd he cleft in two, Near to the monarch's palace drew. He sought the terrace, by the stair, Like a white cloud-peak high in air, The reverend king of men to meet Who sate upon his splendid seat: Thus will Vrihaspati arise To meet the monarch of the skies. But when the king his coming knew, He left his throne and near him drew Questioned by him Vasishtha said That all his task was duly sped. Then all who sate there, honouring Vasishtha, rose as rose the king. Vasishtha bade his lord adieu, And all the peers, dismissed, withdrew. Then as a royal lion seeks His cave beneath the rocky peaks, So to the chambers where abode His consorts Dasaratha strode. Full-thronged were those delightful bowers With women richly dressed, And splendid as the radiant towers Where Indra loves to rest. Then brighter flashed a thousand eyes With the light his presence lent, As, when the moon begins to rise The star thronged firmament.

How, when the frosty morn is dim, Shall Sarju be a bath for him Nursed with all love and tender care, So delicate and young and fair. How bright his hue! his brilliant eye With the broad lotus leaf may vie. By fortune stamped for happy fate, His graceful form is tall and straight. In duty skilled, his words are truth: He proudly rules each lust of youth. Though his strong arm smites down the foe, In gentle speech his accents flow. Yet every joy has he resigned And cleaves to thee with heart and mind. Thus by the deeds that he has done A name in heaven has Bharat won, For in his life he follows yet Thy steps, O banished anchoret. Thus faithful Bharat, nobly wise, The proverb of the world belies: "No men, by mothers' guidance led, The footsteps of their fathers tread." How could Kaikeyi, blest to be Spouse of the king our sire, and see A son like virtuous Bharat, blot Her glory with so foul a plot!"

The prince whose arm bright glory gained, O'er the whole earth as monarch reigned, And richest gifts to others gave, Is come Sugriva's help to crave; Son of a king the surest friend Of virtue, him who loved to lend His succour to the suffering weak, Is come Sugriva's aid to seek. Yes, Raghu's son whose matchless hand Protected all this sea-girt land, The virtuous prince, my holy guide, For refuge seeks Sugriva's side. His favour sent on great and small Should ever save and prosper all. He now to win Sugriva's grace Has sought his woodland dwelling-place. Son of a king of glorious fame;-- Who knows not Dasaratha's name?-- From whom all princes of the earth Received each honour due to worth;-- Heir of that best of earthly kings, Rama the prince whose glory rings Through realms below and earth and skies, For refuge to Sugriva flies. Nor should the Vanar king refuse The boon for which the suppliant sues, But with his forest legions speed To save him in his utmost need."

"Thy lord his days in pleasure spends, Heedless of duty and of friends, Nor dost thou mark, though fondly true, The evil path his steps pursue. He cares not for affairs of state, Nor us forlorn and desolate, But sits a mere spectator still, A sensual slave to pleasure's will. Four months were fixed, the time agreed When he should help us in our need: But, bound in toils of pleasure fast, He sees not that the months are past. Where beats the heart which draughts of wine To virtue or to gain incline? Hast thou not heard those draughts destroy Virtue and gain and love and joy? For those who, helped at need, refuse Their aid in turn, their virtue lose: And they who scorn a friend disdain A treasure naught may buy again. Thy lord has cast his friend away, Nor feared from virtue's path to stray, If this be true, declare, O dame Who knowest duty's every claim, What further work remains for us Deceived and disappointed thus."

Thus spoke the Self-existent Sire: Then swiftly from the blazing pyre The circling flames were backward rolled, And, raising in his gentle hold Alive unharmed the Maithil dame, The Lord of Fire embodied came. Fair as the morning was her sheen, And gold and gems adorned the queen. Her form in crimson robes arrayed, Her hair was bound in glossy braid. Her wreath was fresh and sweet of scent, Undimmed was every ornament. Then, standing close to Rama'a side, The universal witness cried: "From every blot and blemish free Thy faithful queen returns to thee. In word or deed, in look or mind Her heart from thee has ne'er declined. By force the giant bore away From thy lone cot his helpless prey; And in his bowers securely kept She still has longed for thee and wept. With soft temptation, bribe and threat, He bade the dame her love forget: But, nobly faithful to her lord, Her soul the giant's suit abhorred. Receive, O King, thy queen again, Pure, ever pure from spot and stain."

"One day," Vibhishan cried, "one day Shall bear thee o'er that length of way. Is not the wondrous chariot mine, Named Pushpak, wrought by hands divine. The prize which Ravan seized of old Victorious o'er the God of Gold? This chariot, kept with utmost care, Will waft thee through the fields of air, And thou shalt light unwearied down In fair Ayodhya's royal town. But yet if aught that I have done Has pleased thee well, O Raghu's son; If still thou carest for thy friend, Some little time in Lanka spend; There after toil of battle rest Within my halls an honoured guest." Again the son of Raghu spake: "Thy life was perilled for my sake. Thy counsel gave me priceless aid: All honours have been richly paid. Scarce can my love refuse, O best Of giant kind, thy last request. But still I yearn once more to see My home and all most dear to me; Nor can I brook one hour's delay: Forgive me, speed me on my way."

Thus to his mother wild with grief: Then thus to Lakshman spake the chief Of those by whom the bow is bent, Mid all who speak, most eloquent: "I know what love for me thou hast, What firm devotion unsurpassed: Thy valour and thy worth I know, And glory that appals the foe. Blest youth, my mother's woe is great, It bends her 'neath its matchless weight: No claims will she, with blinded eyes, Of truth and patience recognize. For duty is supreme in place, And truth is duty's noblest base. Obedient to my sire's behest I serve the cause of duty best. For man should truly do whate'er To mother, Brahman, sire, he sware: He must in duty's path remain, Nor let his word be pledged in vain. And, O my brother, how can I Obedience to this charge deny? Kaikeyi's tongue my purpose spurred, But 'twas my sire who gave the word. Cast these unholy thoughts aside Which smack of war and Warriors' pride; To duty's call, not wrath attend, And tread the path which I commend."

He spoke: and Janak's hapless child, Scared by his speech so fierce and wild, Trembled for terror, as a frail Young plantain shivers in the gale. When Rama saw Viradha clasp Fair Sita in his mighty grasp, Thus with pale lips that terror dried The hero to his brother cried: "O see Viradha's arm enfold My darling in its cursed hold,-- The child of Janak best of kings, My spouse whose soul to virtue clings, Sweet princess, with pure glory bright, Nursed in the lap of soft delight. Now falls the blow Kaikeyi meant, Successful in her dark intent: This day her cruel soul will be Triumphant over thee and me. Though Bharat on the throne is set, Her greedy eyes look farther yet: Me from my home she dared expel, Me whom all creatures loved so well. This fatal day at length, I ween, Brings triumph to the younger queen. I see with bitterest grief and shame Another touch the Maithil dame. Not loss of sire and royal power So grieves me as this mournful hour."

"With matted hair above thy brows, With bow and shaft and this thy spouse, How hast thou sought in hermit dress The giant-haunted wilderness? What dost thou here? The cause explain: Why art thou come, and what to gain?" As Surpanakha questioned so, Rama, the terror of the foe, In answer to the monster's call, With fearless candour told her all. "King Dasaratha reigned of old, Like Gods celestial brave and bold. I am his eldest son and heir, And Rama is the name I bear. This brother, Lakshman, younger born, Most faithful love to me has sworn. My wife, this princess, dear to fame, Is Sita the Videhan dame. Obedient to my sire's behest And by the queen my mother pressed, To keep the law and merit win, I sought this wood to harbour in. But speak, for I of thee in turn Thy name, and race, and sire would learn. Thou art of giant race, I ween. Changing at will thy form and mien. Speak truly, and the cause declare That bids thee to these shades repair."

Thus Rama by his grief distraught Wept for the wife he vainly sought, And Lakshman whose fraternal breast Longed for his weal, the chief addressed Whose soul gave way beneath the pain When all his eager search was vain, Like some great elephant who stands Sinking upon the treacherous sands: "Not yet, O wisest chief, despair; Renew thy toil with utmost care. This noble hill where trees are green Has many a cave and dark ravine. The Maithil lady day by day Delighted in the woods to stray, Deep in the grove she wanders still, Or walks by blossom-covered rill, Or fish-loved river stealing through Tall clusters of the dark bamboo. Or else the dame with arch design To prove thy mood, O Prince, and mine, Far in some sheltering thicket lies To frighten ere she meet our eyes. Then come, renew thy labour, trace The lady to her lurking-place, And search the wood from side to side To know where Sita loves to bide. Collect thy thoughts, O royal chief, Nor yield to unavailing grief."

He heard the words Vasishtha spoke, And slumbering resolution woke. Then skilled in all the laws declare, He bade his friends the rites prepare. They raised the body from the oil, And placed it, dripping, on the soil; Then laid it on a bed, whereon Wrought gold and precious jewels shone. There, pallor o'er his features spread, The monarch, as in sleep, lay dead. Then Bharat sought his father's side, And lifted up his voice and cried: "O King, and has thy heart designed To part and leave thy son behind? Make Rama flee, who loves the right, And Lakshman of the arm of might? Whither, great Monarch, wilt thou go And leave this people in their woe, Mourning their hero, wild with grief, Of Rama reft, their lion chief? Ah, who will guard the people well Who in Ayodhya's city dwell, When thou, my sire, hast sought the sky, And Rama has been forced to fly? In widowed woe, bereft of thee, The land no more is fair to see: The city, to my aching sight, Is gloomy as a moonless night."

He ceased: his finger bathed in dew Across Sugriva's eyes he drew; From dulling mist his vision freed, And spoke these words to suit the need: "No time is this for fear: away With fainting heart and weak delay. Now, e'en the tear which sorrow wrings From loving eyes destruction brings. Up, on to battle at the head Of those brave troops which Rama led. Or guardian by his side remain Till sense and strength the prince regain. Soon shall the trance-bound pair revive, And from our hearts all sorrow drive. Though prostrate on the earth he lie, Deem not that Rama's death is nigh; Deem not that Lakshmi will forget Or leave her darling champion yet. Rest here and be thy heart consoled; Ponder my words, be firm and bold. I, foremost in the battlefield, Will rally all who faint or yield. Their staring eyes betray their fear; They whisper each in other's ear. They, when they hear my cheering cry And see the friend of Rama nigh, Will cast their gloom and fears away Like faded wreaths of yesterday."

Still on the ground where Rama slept Their faithful watch the Vanars kept. There Angad stood o'erwhelmed with grief And many a lord and warrior chief; And, ranged in densest mass around, Their tree-armed legions held the ground. Far ranged each Vanar's eager eye, Now swept the land, now sought the sky, All fearing, if a leaf was stirred, A Rakshas in the sound they heard. The lord of Lanka in his hall, Rejoicing at his foeman's fall, Commanded and the warders came Who ever watched the Maithil dame. "Go," cried the Rakshas king, "relate To Janak's child her husband's fate. Low on the earth her Rama lies, And dark in death are Lakshman's eyes. Bring forth my car and let her ride To view the chieftains side by side. The lord to whom her fancy turned For whose dear sake my love she spurned, Lies smitten, as he fiercely led The battle, with his brother dead. Lead forth the royal lady: go Her husband's lifeless body show. Then from all doubt and terror free Her softening heart will turn to me."

"Nay, through thy might each queen will share Attentive Bharat's love and care, Should Bharat, raised as king to sway This noblest realm, his trust betray, Nor for their safety well provide, Seduced by ill-suggesting pride, Doubt not my vengeful hand shall kill The cruel wretch who counsels ill-- Kill him and all who lend him aid, And the three worlds in league arrayed. And good Kausalya well can fee A thousand champions like to me. A thousand hamlets rich in grain The station of that queen maintain. She may, and my dear mother too, Live on the ample revenue. Then let me follow thee: herein: Is naught that may resemble sin. So shall I in my wish succeed, And aid, perhaps, my brother's need. My bow and quiver well supplied With arrows hanging at my side, My hands shall spade and basket bear, And for thy feet the way prepare. I'll bring thee roots and berries sweet. And woodland fare which hermits eat. Thou shall with thy Videhan spouse Recline upon the mountain's brows; Be mine the toil, be mine to keep Watch o'er thee waking or asleep."

Then thronging round, the woodland deer Gazed on his form with wondering fear; A while they followed where he led, Then snuffed the tainted gale and fled. The giant, though he longed to slay The startled quarry, spared the prey, And mindful of the shape he wore To veil his nature, still forbore. Then Sita of the glorious eye, Returning from her task drew nigh; For she had sought the wood to bring Each loveliest flower of early spring. Now would the bright-eyed lady choose Some gorgeous bud with blending hues, Now plucked the mango's spray, and now The bloom from an Asoka bough. She with her beauteous form, unmeet For woodland life and lone retreat, That wondrous dappled deer beheld Gemmed with rich pearls, unparalleled, His silver hair the lady saw, His radiant teeth and lips and jaw, And gazed with rapture as her eyes Expanded in their glad surprise. And when the false deer's glances fell On her whom Rama loved so well, He wandered here and there, and cast A luminous beauty as he passed; And Janak's child with strange delight Kept gazing on the unwonted sight.

The Vanar knew the lady's thought,(856) And gave the answer fondly sought: "Bright as the sun that lights the sky Dear as the Moon to every eye. He scatters blessings o'er the land Like bounties from Vaisravan's(857) hand. Like Vishnu strong and unsubdued, Unmatched in might and fortitude. Wise, truthful as the Lord of Speech, With gentle words he welcomes each. Of noblest mould and form is he, Like love's incarnate deity. He quells the fury of the foe, And strikes when justice prompts the blow. Safe in the shadow of his arm The world is kept from scathe and harm. Now soon shall Ravan rue his theft, And fall, of realm and life bereft. For Rama's wrathful hand shall wing His shafts against the giant king. The day, O Maithil Queen, is near When he and Lakshman will be here, And by their side Sugriva lead His countless hosts of Vanar breed. Sugriva's servant, I, by name Hanuman, by his order came. With desperate leap I crossed the sea To Lanka's isle in search of thee, No traitor, gentle dame, am I: Upon my word and faith rely."

The trees the witching influence knew, And bent with fruits of loveliest hue, And Rama's consecration lent New sweetness to each flowret's scent. The monarch, joy of Raghu's line, Gave largess to the Brahmans, kine And steeds unnumbered, wealth untold Of robes and pearls and gems and gold. A jewelled chain, whose lustre passed The glory of the sun, he cast About his friend Sugriva's neck; And, Angad Bali's son to deck, He gave a pair of armlets bright With diamond and lazulite. A string of pearls of matchless hue Which gleams like tender moonlight threw Adorned with gems of brightest sheen, He gave to grace his darling queen. The offering from his hand received A moment on her bosom heaved; Then from her neck the chain she drew, A glance on all the Vanars threw, And wistful eyes on Rama bent As still she held the ornament. Her wish he knew, and made reply To that mute question of her eye: "Yea, love; the chain on him bestow Whose wisdom truth and might we know, The firm ally, the faithful friend Through toil and peril to the end."

Then by Vibhandak's gentle son Was that high sacrifice begun, The king's advantage seeking still And zealous to perform his will. Now all the Gods had gathered there, Each one for his allotted share: Brahma, the ruler of the sky, Sthanu, Narayan, Lord most high, And holy Indra men might view With Maruts(105) for his retinue; The heavenly chorister, and saint, And spirit pure from earthly taint, With one accord had sought the place The high-souled monarch's rite to grace. Then to the Gods who came to take Their proper share the hermit spake: "For you has Dasaratha slain The votive steed, a son to gain; Stern penance-rites the king has tried, And in firm faith on you relied, And now with undiminished care A second rite would fain prepare. But, O ye Gods, consent to grant The longing of your supplicant. For him beseeching hands I lift, And pray you all to grant the gift, That four fair sons of high renown The offerings of the king may crown." They to the hermit's son replied: "His longing shall be gratified. For, Brahman, in most high degree We love the king and honour thee."

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."

Thus Rama spoke. Sugriva hied Within the mountain's caverned side, Impelled by love that stirred each thought The precious tokens quickly brought, And said to Raghu's son: Behold This garment and these rings of gold. In Rama's hand with friendly haste The jewels and the robe he placed. Then, like the moon by mist assailed, The tear-dimmed eyes of Rama failed; That burst of woe unmanned his frame, Woe sprung from passion for his dame, And with his manly strength o'erthrown, He fell and cried, Ah me! mine own! Again, again close to his breast The ornaments and robe he pressed, While the quick pants that shook his frame As from a furious serpent came. On his dear brother standing nigh He turned at length his piteous eye; And, while his tears increasing ran, In bitter wail he thus began: "Look, brother, and behold once more The ornaments and robe she wore, Dropped while the giant bore away In cruel arras his struggling prey, Dropped in some quiet spot, I ween, Where the young grass was soft and green; For still untouched by spot or stain Their former beauty all retain."