Ramayana on Nature

Canst thou one moment think to please This pair who live for love and ease, And 'gainst thy peace, as foes, allied, With tenderest names their hatred hide? Now if thy judgment still refers To Fate this plot of his and hers, My mind herein can ne'er agree: And O, in this be ruled by me. Weak, void of manly pride are they Who bend to Fate's imputed sway: The choicest souls, the nobly great Disdain to bow their heads to Fate. And he who dares his Fate control With vigorous act and manly soul, Though threatening Fate his hopes assail, Unmoved through all need never quail. This day mankind shall learn aright The power of Fate and human might, So shall the gulf that lies between A man and Fate be clearly seen. The might of Fate subdued by me This hour the citizens shall see, Who saw its intervention stay Thy consecrating rites to-day. My power shall turn this Fate aside, That threatens, as, with furious stride, An elephant who scorns to feel, In rage unchecked, the driver's steel. Not the great Lords whose sleepless might Protects the worlds, shall stay the rite Though earth, hell, heaven combine their powers: And shall we fear this sire of ours? Then if their minds are idly bent To doom thee, King, to banishment, Through twice seven years of exile they Shall in the lonely forest stay. I will consume the hopes that fire The queen Kaikeyi and our sire, That to her son this check will bring Advantage, making Bharat king. The power of Fate will ne'er withstand The might that arms my vigorous hand; If danger and distress assail, My fearless strength will still prevail. A thousand circling years shall flee: The forest then thy home shall be, And thy good sons, succeeding, hold The empire which their sire controlled. The royal saints, of old who reigned, For aged kings this rest ordained: These to their sons their realm commit That they, like sires, may cherish it.

Then Sita, best of womankind, Ascended, with a tranquil mind, Soon as her toilet task was done, That chariot brilliant as the sun. Rama and Lakshman true and bold Sprang on the car adorned with gold. The king those years had counted o'er, And given Sita robes and store Of precious ornaments to wear When following her husband there. The brothers in the car found place For nets and weapons of the chase, There warlike arms and mail they laid, A leathern basket and a spade. Soon as Sumantra saw the three Were seated in the chariot, he Urged on each horse of noble breed, Who matched the rushing wind in speed. As thus the son of Raghu went Forth for his dreary banishment, Chill numbing grief the town assailed, All strength grew weak, all spirit failed, Ayodhya through her wide extent Was filled with tumult and lament: Steeds neighed and shook the bells they bore, Each elephant returned a roar. Then all the city, young and old, Wild with their sorrow uncontrolled, Rushed to the car, as, from the sun The panting herds to water run. Before the car, behind, they clung, And there as eagerly they hung, With torrents streaming from their eyes, Called loudly with repeated cries: "Listen, Sumantra: draw thy rein; Drive gently, and thy steeds restrain. Once more on Rama will we gaze, Now to be lost for many days. The queen his mother has, be sure, A heart of iron, to endure To see her godlike Rama go, Nor feel it shattered by the blow. Sita, well done! Videha's pride, Still like his shadow by his side; Rejoicing in thy duty still As sunlight cleaves to Meru's hill. Thou, Lakshman, too, hast well deserved, Who from thy duty hast not swerved, Tending the peer of Gods above, Whose lips speak naught but words of love. Thy firm resolve is nobly great, And high success on thee shall wait. Yea, thou shalt win a priceless meed-- Thy path with him to heaven shall lead."

O'er many a stream beside he sped With coursers on the mountains bred, And passing Hastiprishthak, took The road o'er Kutika's fair brook. Then, at Lohitya's village, he Crossed o'er the swift Kapivati, Then passed, where Ekasala stands, The Sthanumati's flood and sands, And Gomati of fair renown By Vinata's delightful town. When to Kalinga near he drew, A wood of Sal trees charmed the view; That passed, the sun began to rise, And Bharat saw with happy eyes, Ayodhya's city, built and planned By ancient Manu's royal hand. Seven nights upon the road had passed, And when he saw the town at last Before him in her beauty spread, Thus Bharat to the driver said: "This glorious city from afar, Wherein pure groves and gardens are, Seems to my eager eyes to-day A lifeless pile of yellow clay. Through all her streets where erst a throng Of men and women streamed along, Uprose the multitudinous roar: To-day I hear that sound no more. No longer do mine eyes behold The leading people, as of old, On elephants, cars, horses, go Abroad and homeward, to and fro. The brilliant gardens, where we heard The wild note of each rapturous bird, Where men and women loved to meet, In pleasant shades, for pastime sweet,-- These to my eyes this day appear Joyless, and desolate, and drear: Each tree that graced the garden grieves, And every path is spread with leaves. The merry cry of bird and beast, That spake aloud their joy, has ceased: Still is the long melodious note That charmed us from each warbling throat. Why blows the blessed air no more, The incense-breathing air that bore Its sweet incomparable scent Of sandal and of aloe blent? Why are the drum and tabour mute? Why is the music of the lute That woke responsive to the quill, Loved by the happy, hushed and still? My boding spirit gathers hence Dire sins of awful consequence, And omens, crowding on my sight, Weigh down my soul with wild affright.

He ceased; and spurred by warlike pride The impetuous son of Raghu cried: "Soon shall mine arm with wrathful joy That city of the foe destroy. Now, chieftain, now collect the host, And onward to the southern coast! The sun in his meridian tower Gives glory to the Vanar power. The demon lord who stole my queen By timely flight his life may screen. She, when she knows her lord is near, Will cling to hope and banish fear, Saved like a dying wretch who sips The drink of Gods with fevered lips. Arise, thy troops to battle lead: All happy omens counsel speed. The Lord of Stars in favouring skies Bodes glory to our enterprise. This arm shall slay the fiend; and she, My consort, shall again be free. Mine upward-throbbing eye foreshows The longed-for triumph o'er my foes. Far in the van be Nila's post, To scan the pathway for the host, And let thy bravest and thy best, A hundred thousand, wait his hest. Go forth, O warrior Nila, lead The legions on through wood and mead Where pleasant waters cool the ground, And honey, flowers, and fruit abound. Go, and with timely care prevent The Rakshas foeman's dark intent. With watchful troops each valley guard Ere brooks and fruits and roots be marred And search each glen and leafy shade For hostile troops in ambuscade. But let the weaklings stay behind: For heroes is our task designed. Let thousands of the Vanar breed The vanguard of the armies lead: Fierce and terrific must it be As billows of the stormy sea. There be the hill-huge Gaja's place, And Gavaya's, strongest of his race, And, like the bull that leads the herd, Gavaksha's, by no fears deterred Let Rishabh, matchless in the might Of warlike arms, protect our right, And Gandhamadan next in rank Defend and guide the other flank. I, like the God who rules the sky Borne on Airavat(900) mounted high On stout Hanuman's back will ride, The central host to cheer and guide.

At dead of night the Vanar bands Rushed on with torches in their hands. Scared by the coming of the host Each giant warder left his post. Where'er the Vanar legions came Their way was marked with hostile flame That spread in fury to devour Palace and temple, gate and tower. Down came the walls and porches, down Came stately piles that graced the town. In many a house the fire was red, On sandal wood and aloe fed. And scorching flames in billows rolled O'er diamonds and pearls and gold. On cloth of wool, on silk brocade, On linen robes their fury preyed. Wheels, poles and yokes were burned, and all The coursers' harness in the stall; And elephants' and chariots' gear, The sword, the buckler, and the spear. Scared by the crash of falling beams, Mid lamentations, groans and screams, Forth rushed the giants through the flames And with them dragged bewildered dames, Each, with o'erwhelming terror wild, Still clasping to her breast a child. The swift fire from a cloud of smoke Through many a gilded lattice broke, And, melting pearl and coral, rose O'er balconies and porticoes. The startled crane and peacock screamed As with strange light the courtyard gleamed, And fierce unusual glare was thrown On shrinking wood and heated stone. From burning stall and stable freed Rushed frantic elephant and steed, And goaded by the driving blaze Fled wildly through the crowded ways. As earth with fervent heat will glow When comes her final overthrow; From gate to gate, from court to spire Proud Lanka was one blaze of fire, And every headland, rock and bay Shone bright a hundred leagues away. Forth, blinded by the heat and flame Ran countless giants huge of frame; And, mustering for fierce attack, The Vanars charged to drive them back, While shout and scream and roar and cry Reechoed through the earth and sky. There Rama stood with strength renewed, And ever, as the foe he viewed, Shaking the distant regions rang His mighty bow's tremendous clang.

Then the king's venerable guide Vasishtha, when he saw each coat Enclose the lady's waist and throat, Her zeal with gentle words repressed, And Queen Kaikeyi thus addressed: "O evil-hearted sinner, shame Of royal Kekaya's race and name; Who matchless in thy sin couldst cheat Thy lord the king with vile deceit; Lost to all sense of duty, know Sita to exile shall not go. Sita shall guard, as 'twere her own, The precious trust of Rama's throne. Those joined by wedlock's sweet control Have but one self and common soul. Thus Sita shall our empress be, For Rama's self and soul is she. Or if she still to Rama cleave And for the woods the kingdom leave: If naught her loving heart deter, We and this town will follow her. The warders of the queen shall take Their wives and go for Rama's sake, The nation with its stores of grain, The city's wealth shall swell his train. Bharat, Satrughna both will wear Bark mantles, and his lodging share, Still with their elder brother dwell In the wild wood, and serve him well. Rest here alone, and rule thy state Unpeopled, barren, desolate; Be empress of the land and trees, Thou sinner whom our sorrows please. The land which Rama reigns not o'er Shall bear the kingdom's name no more: The woods which Rama wanders through Shall be our home and kingdom too. Bharat, be sure, will never deign O'er realms his father yields, to reign. Nay, if the king's true son he be, He will not, sonlike, dwell with thee. Nay, shouldst thou from the earth arise, And send thy message from the skies, To his forefathers' custom true No erring course would he pursue. So hast thou, by thy grievous fault, Offended him thou wouldst exalt. In all the world none draws his breath Who loves not Rama, true to death. This day, O Queen, shalt thou behold Birds, deer, and beasts from lea and fold Turn to the woods in Rama's train. And naught save longing trees remain."

"Whate'er a friend most wise and true, Who counsels for the best, should do, Whate'er his gentle part should be, Has been performed, dear friend, by thee. Taught by thy counsel, O my lord, I feel my native strength restored. A friend like thee is hard to gain, Most rare in time of grief and pain. Now strain thine utmost power to trace The Maithil lady's dwelling place, And aid me in my search to find Fierce Ravan of the impious mind. Trust thou, in turn, thy loyal friend, And say what aid this arm can lend To speed thy hopes, as fostering rain Quickens in earth the scattered grain. Deem not those words, that seemed to spring From pride, are false, O Vanar King. None from these lips has ever heard, None e'er shall hear, one lying word. Again I promise and declare, Yea, by my truth, dear friend, I swear."

He ceased; the prudent counsel won The glad assent of Raghu's son. Then on the ocean shore a bed Of tender sacred grass was spread, Where Rama at the close of day Like fire upon an altar lay.

With heavy hand the giant smote Hanuman on the chest and throat, Who reeled and staggered to and fro, Stunned for a moment by the blow. Till, mustering strength, his hand he reared And struck the foe whom Indra feared. His huge limbs bent beneath the shock, As mountains, in an earthquake, rock, And from the Gods and sages pealed Shouts of loud triumph as he reeled. But strength returning nerved his frame: His eyeballs flashed with fiercer flame. No living creature might resist That blow of his tremendous fist Which fell upon Hanuman's flank: And to the ground the Vanar sank, No sign of life his body showed: And Ravan in his chariot rode At Nila; and his arrowy rain Fell on the captain and his train. Fierce Nila stayed his Vanar band, And, heaving with his single hand A mountain peak, with vigorous swing Hurled the huge missile at the king.

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.

Then to the saint supremely wise King Janak spoke in suppliant guise: "Deign, Hermit, with attentive ear, Mv race's origin to hear. When kings a daughter's hand bestow, 'Tis right their line and fame to show. There was a king whose deeds and worth Spread wide his name through heaven and earth, Nimi, most virtuous e'en from youth, The best of all who love the truth. His son and heir was Mithi, and His Janak, first who ruled this land. He left a son Udavasu, Blest with all virtues, good and true. His son was Nandivardhan, dear For pious heart and worth sincere. His son Suketu, hero brave, To Devarat, existence gave. King Devarat, a royal sage, For virtue, glory of the age, Begot Vrihadratha; and he Begot, his worthy heir to be, The splendid hero Mahabir Who long in glory governed here. His son was Sudhriti, a youth Firm in his purpose, brave in sooth, His son was Dhristaketu, blest With pious will and holy breast. The fame of royal saint he won: Haryasva was his princely son. Haryasva's son was Maru, who Begot Pratindhak, wise and true. Next Kirtiratha held the throne, His son, for gentle virtues known. Then followed Devamidha, then Vibudh, Mahandhrak, kings of men. Mahandhrak's son, of boundless might, Was Kirtirat, who loved the right. He passed away, a sainted king, And Maharoma following To Swarnaroma left the state. Then Hrasvaroma, good and great, Succeeded, and to him a pair Of sons his royal consort bare, Elder of these I boast to be: Brave Kusadhwaj is next to me.(251) Me then, the elder of the twain, My sire anointed here to reign. He bade me tend my brother well, Then to the forest went to dwell. He sought the heavens, and I sustained The burden as by law ordained, And noble Kusadhwaj, the peer Of Gods, I ever held most dear. Then came Sankasya's mighty lord, Sudhanva, threatening siege and sword, And bade me swift on him bestow Siva's incomparable bow, And Sita of the lotus eyes: But I refused each peerless prize.

When Bharat with each friend and peer Had heard that tale so full and clear, They went together to the tree The bed which Rama pressed to see. Then Bharat to his mothers said: "Behold the high-souled hero's bed: These tumbled heaps of grass betray Where he that night with Sita lay: Unmeet, the heir of fortune high Thus on the cold bare earth should lie, The monarch's son, in counsel sage, Of old imperial lineage. That lion-lord whose noble bed With finest skins of deer was spread,-- How can he now endure to press The bare earth, cold and comfortless! This sudden fall from bliss to grief Appears untrue, beyond belief: My senses are distraught: I seem To view the fancies of a dream. There is no deity so great, No power in heaven can master Fate, If Rama, Dasaratha's heir, Lay on the ground and slumbered there; And lovely Sita, she who springs From fair Videha's ancient kings, Rama's dear wife, by all adored, Lay on the earth beside her lord. Here was his couch, upon this heap He tossed and turned in restless sleep: On the hard soil each manly limb Has stamped the grass with signs of him. That night, it seems, fair Sita spent Arrayed in every ornament, For here and there my eyes behold Small particles of glistering gold. She laid her outer garment here, For still some silken threads appear, How dear in her devoted eyes Must be the bed where Rama lies, Where she so tender could repose And by his side forget her woes. Alas, unhappy, guilty me! For whom the prince was forced to flee, And chief of Raghu's sons and best, A bed like this with Sita pressed. Son of a royal sire whose hand Ruled paramount o'er every land, Could he who every joy bestows, Whose body like the lotus shows, The friend of all, who charms the sight, Whose flashing eyes are darkly bright, Leave the dear kingdom, his by right, Unmeet for woe, the heir of bliss, And lie upon a bed like this?

Then Rama, like the lotus eyed, Descended from the mountain side, And to the Maithil lady showed The lovely stream that softly flowed. And thus Ayodhya's lord addressed His bride, of dames the loveliest, Child of Videha's king, her face Bright with the fair moon's tender grace: "How sweetly glides, O darling, look, Mandakini's delightful brook, Adorned with islets, blossoms gay, And sarases and swans at play! The trees with which her banks are lined Show flowers and fruit of every kind: The match in radiant sheen is she Of King Kuvera's Nalini.(373) My heart exults with pleasure new The shelving band and ford to view, Where gathering herds of thirsty deer Disturb the wave that ran so clear. Now look, those holy hermits mark In skins of deer and coats of bark; With twisted coils of matted hair, The reverend men are bathing there, And as they lift their arms on high The Lord of Day they glorify: These best of saints, my large-eyed spouse, Are constant to their sacred vows. The mountain dances while the trees Bend their proud summits to the breeze, And scatter many a flower and bud From branches that o'erhang the flood. There flows the stream like lucid pearl, Round islets here the currents whirl, And perfect saints from middle air Are flocking to the waters there. See, there lie flowers in many a heap From boughs the whistling breezes sweep, And others wafted by the gale Down the swift current dance and sail. Now see that pair of wild-fowl rise, Exulting with their joyful cries: Hark, darling, wafted from afar How soft their pleasant voices are. To gaze on Chitrakuta's hill, To look upon this lovely rill, To bend mine eyes on thee, dear wife, Is sweeter than my city life. Come, bathe we in the pleasant rill Whose dancing waves are never still, Stirred by those beings pure from sin, The sanctities who bathe therein: Come, dearest, to the stream descend, Approach her as a darling friend, And dip thee in the silver flood Which lotuses and lilies stud.

As on the long-eyed lady strayed, On holy grass, whose points were laid Directed to the southern sky, The funeral offering met her eye. When Rama's humble gift she spied Thus to the queens Kausalya cried: "The gift of Rama's hand behold, His tribute to the king high-souled, Offered to him, as texts require, Lord of Ikshvaku's line, his sire! Not such I deem the funeral food Of kings with godlike might endued. Can he who knew all pleasures, he Who ruled the earth from sea to sea, The mighty lord of monarchs, feed On Ingudi's extracted seed? In all the world there cannot be A woe, I ween, more sad to see, Than that my glorious son should make His funeral gift of such a cake. The ancient text I oft have heard This day is true in every word: "Ne'er do the blessed Gods refuse To eat the food their children use.' "

With knitted brow and furious eye The stranger made his fierce reply: "In me O fairest dame, behold The brother of the King of Gold. The Lord of Ten Necks my title, named Ravan, for might and valour famed. Gods and Gandharva hosts I scare; Snakes, spirits, birds that roam the air Fly from my coming, wild with fear, Trembling like men when Death is near. Vaisravan once, my brother, wrought To ire, encountered me and fought, But yielding to superior might Fled from his home in sore affright. Lord of the man-drawn chariot, still He dwells on famed Kailasa's hill. I made the vanquished king resign The glorious car which now is mine,-- Pushpak, the far-renowned, that flies Will-guided through the buxom skies. Celestial hosts by Indra led Flee from my face disquieted, And where my dreaded feet appear The wind is hushed or breathless is fear. Where'er I stand, where'er I go The troubled waters cease to flow, Each spell-bound wave is mute and still And the fierce sun himself is chill. Beyond the sea my Lanka stands Filled with fierce forms and giant bands, A glorious city fair to see As Indra's Amaravati. A towering height of solid wall, Flashing afar, surrounds it all, Its golden courts enchant the sight, And gates aglow with lazulite. Steeds, elephants, and cars are there, And drums' loud music fills the air, Fair trees in lovely gardens grow Whose boughs with varied fruitage glow. Thou, beauteous Queen, with me shalt dwell In halls that suit a princess well, Thy former fellows shall forget Nor think of women with regret, No earthly joy thy soul shall miss, And take its fill of heavenly bliss. Of mortal Rama think no more, Whose terms of days will soon be o'er. King Dasaratha looked in scorn On Rama though the eldest born, Sent to the woods the weakling fool, And set his darling son to rule. What, O thou large-eyed dame, hast thou To do with fallen Rama now, From home and kingdom forced to fly, A wretched hermit soon to die?

There Saran ceased: then Suka broke The silence and to Ravan spoke: "O Monarch, yonder chiefs survey: Like elephants in size are they, And tower like stately trees that grow Where Ganga's nursing waters flow; Yea, tall as mountain pines that fling Long shadows o'er the snow-crowned king. They all in wild Kishkindha dwell And serve their lord Sugriva well. The Gods' and bright Gandharvas' seed, They take each form that suits their need. Now farther look, O Monarch, where Those chieftains stand, a glorious pair, Conspicuous for their godlike frames; Dwivid and Mainda are their names. Their lips the drink of heaven have known, And Brahma claims them for his own. That chieftain whom thine eyes behold Refulgent like a hill of gold, Before whose wrathful might the sea Roused from his rest would turn and flee, The peerless Vanar, he who came To Lanka for the Maithil dame, The Wind-God's son Hanuman; thou Hast seen him once, behold him now. Still nearer let thy glance be bent, And mark that prince preeminent Mid chieftains for his strength and size And splendour of his lotus eyes. Far through the worlds his virtues shine, The glory of Ikshvaku's line. The path of truth he never leaves, And still through all to duty cleaves. Deep in the Vedas, skilled to wield The mystic shafts to him revealed: Whose flaming darts to heaven ascend, And through the earth a passage rend: In might like him who rules the sky; Like Yama, when his wrath grows high: Whose queen, the darling of his soul, Thy magic art deceived and stole: There royal Rama stands and longs For battle to avenge his wrongs. Near on his right a prince, in hue Like pure gold freshly burnished, view: Broad is his chest, his eye is red, His black hair curls about his head: 'Tis Lakshman, faithful friend, who shares His brother's joys, his brother's cares. By Rama's side he loves to stand And serve him as his better hand, For whose dear sake without a sigh The warrior youth would gladly die.

Then to his deadly string the pride Of Raghu's race a shaft applied. Sharp as a serpent's venomed fang Straight to its mark the arrow sprang, And from the giant's body shred With trenchant steel the monstrous head. There might the triple world behold That severed head adorned with gold. But when all eyes were bent to view, Swift in its stead another grew. Again the shaft was pointed well: Again the head divided fell; But still as each to earth was cast Another head succeeded fast. A hundred, bright with fiery flame, Fell low before the victor's aim, Yet Ravan by no sign betrayed That death was near or strength decayed. The doubtful fight he still maintained, And on the foe his missiles rained. In air, on earth, on plain, on hill, With awful might he battled still; And through the hours of night and day The conflict knew no pause or stay.

O pious soul, if thou decline The empire which is justly thine, Lest, while the king distracted lies, Disorder in the state should rise, I,--or no mansion may I find In worlds to hero souls assigned,-- The guardian of thy realm will be, As the sea-bank protects the sea. Then cast thine idle fears aside: With prosperous rites be sanctified. The lords of earth may strive in vain: My power shall all their force restrain. My pair of arms, my warrior's bow Are not for pride or empty show: For no support these shafts were made; And binding up ill suits my blade: To pierce the foe with deadly breach-- This is the work of all and each. But small, methinks the love I show For him I count my mortal foe. Soon as my trenchant steel is bare, Flashing its lightning through the air, I heed no foe, nor stand aghast Though Indra's self the levin cast. Then shall the ways be hard to pass, Where chariots lie in ruinous mass; When elephant and man and steed Crushed in the murderous onslaught bleed, And legs and heads fall, heap on heap, Beneath my sword's tremendous sweep. Struck by my keen brand's trenchant blade, Thine enemies shall fall dismayed, Like towering mountains rent in twain, Or lightning clouds that burst in rain. When armed with brace and glove I stand, And take my trusty bow in hand, Who then shall vaunt his might? who dare Count him a man to meet me there? Then will I loose my shafts, and strike Man, elephant, and steed alike: At one shall many an arrow fly, And many a foe with one shall die. This day the world my power shall see, That none in arms can rival me: My strength the monarch shall abase, And set thee, lord, in lordliest place. These arms which breathe the sandal's scent, Which golden bracelets ornament, These hands which precious gifts bestow, Which guard the friend and smite the foe, A nobler service shall assay, And fight in Rama's cause to-day, The robbers of thy rights to stay.

Thus in his joy he cried; and she, Sweet speaker, on her lover's knee, Of faultless limb and perfect face, Grew closer to her lord's embrace. Reclining in her husband's arms, A goddess in her wealth of charms, She filled his loving breast anew With mighty joy that thrilled him through. His finger on the rock he laid, Which veins of sanguine ore displayed, And painted o'er his darling's eyes The holy sign in mineral dyes. Bright on her brow the metal lay Like the young sun's first gleaming ray, And showed her in her beauty fair As the soft light of morning's air. Then from the Kesar's laden tree He picked fair blossoms in his glee, And as he decked each lovely tress, His heart o'erflowed with happiness. So resting on that rocky seat A while they spent in pastime sweet, Then onward neath the shady boughs Went Rama with his Maithil spouse. She roaming in the forest shade Where every kind of creature strayed Observed a monkey wandering near, And clung to Rama's arm in fear. The hero Rama fondly laced His mighty arms around her waist, Consoled his beauty in her dread, And scared the Monkey till he fled. That holy mark of sanguine ore That gleamed on Sita's brow before, Shone by that close embrace impressed Upon the hero's ample chest. Then Sita, when the beast who led The monkey troop, afar had fled, Laughed loudly in light-hearted glee That mark on Rama's chest to see. A clump of bright Asokas fired The forest in their bloom attired: The restless blossoms as they gleamed A host of threatening monkeys seemed. Then Sita thus to Rama cried, As longingly the flowers she eyed: "Pride of thy race, now let us go Where those Asoka blossoms grow." He on his darling's pleasure bent With his fair goddess thither went And roamed delighted through the wood Where blossoming Asokas stood, As Siva with Queen Uma roves Through Himavan's majestic groves. Bright with purpureal glow the pair Of happy lovers sported there, And each upon the other set A flower-inwoven coronet.

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

He ceased: and King Sugriva cried To sage Hanuman(642) by his side: "Summon the Vanar legions, those Who dwell about the Lord of Snows: Those who in Vindhyan groves delight, Kailasa's, or Mahendra's height, Dwell on the Five bright Peaks, or where Mandar's white summit cleaves the air: Wherever they are wandring free In highlands by the western sea, On that east hill whence springs the sun, Or where he sinks when day is done. Call the great chiefs whose legions fill The forests of the Lotus Hill,(643) Where every one in strength and size With the stupendous Anjan(644) vies. Call those, with tints of burnished gold Whom Mahasaila's caverns hold: Those who on Dhumra roam, or hide In the wild woods on Meru's side. Call those who, brilliant as the sun, On high Maharun leap and run, Quaffing sweet juices that distil From odorous trees upon the hill, Call those whom tranquil haunts delight, Where dwell the sage and anchorite In groves that through their wide extent Exhale a thousand blossoms' scent. Send out, send out: from coast to coast Assemble all the Vanar host: With force, with words, with gifts of price Compel, admonish and entice. Already envoys have been sent To warn them of their lord's intent. Let others urged by thee repeat My mandate that their steps be fleet. Those lords who yielding to the sway Of love's delight would fain delay, Urge hither with the utmost speed, Or with thee to my presence lead: And those who linger to the last Until ten days be come and passed, And dare their sovereign to defy, For their offence shall surely die. Thousands, yea millions, shall there be, Obedient to their king's decree, The lions of the Vanar race, Assembled from each distant place, Forth shall they haste like hills in size, Or mighty clouds that veil the skies, And swiftly speeding on their way Bring all our legions in array." He ceased: the son of Vayu(645) heard, Submissive to his sovereign's word; And sent his rapid envoys forth To east and west and south and north.

With hopeless eye and pallid mien There sat the monarch with the queen. His father's feet with reverence due He clasped, and touched Kaikeyi's too. The king, with eyes still brimming o'er, Cried Rama! and could do no more. His voice was choked, his eye was dim, He could not speak or look on him. Then sudden fear made Rama shake As though his foot had roused a snake, Soon as his eyes had seen the change So mournful, terrible, and strange. For there his reason well-nigh fled, Sighing, with soul disquieted, To torturing pangs a prey, Dismayed, despairing, and distraught, In a fierce whirl of wildering thought The hapless monarch lay, Like Ocean wave-engarlanded Storm-driven from his tranquil bed, The Sun-God in eclipse, Or like a holy seer, heart-stirred With anguish, when a lying word Has passed his heedless lips. The sight of his dear father, pained With woe and misery unexplained Filled Rama with unrest, As Ocean's pulses rise and swell When the great moon he loves so well Shines full upon his breast. So grieving for his father's sake, To his own heart the hero spake: "Why will the king my sire to-day No kindly word of greeting say? At other times, though wroth he be, His eyes grow calm that look on me. Then why does anguish wring his brow To see his well-beloved now?" Sick and perplexed, distraught with woe, To Queen Kaikeyi bowing low, While pallor o'er his bright cheek spread, With humble reverence he said: "What have I done, unknown, amiss To make my father wroth like this? Declare it, O dear Queen, and win His pardon for my heedless sin. Why is the sire I ever find Filled with all love to-day unkind? With eyes cast down and pallid cheek This day alone he will not speak. Or lies he prostrate neath the blow Of fierce disease or sudden woe? For all our bliss is dashed with pain, And joy unmixt is hard to gain. Does stroke of evil fortune smite Dear Bharat, charming to the sight, Or on the brave Satrughna fall, Or consorts, for he loves them all?

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

"I told thee of that dreadful day When Rama smote and spared to slay. Now hear me, Ravan, while I tell What in the after time befell. At length, restored to strength and pride, I and two mighty fiends beside Assumed the forms of deer and strayed Through Dandak wood in lawn and glade, I reared terrific horns: beneath Were flaming tongue and pointed teeth. I roamed where'er my fancy led, And on the flesh of hermits fed, In sacred haunt, by hallowed tree, Where'er the ritual fires might be. A fearful shape, I wandered through The wood, and many a hermit slew. With ruthless rage the saints I killed Who in the grove their tasks fulfilled. When smitten to the earth they sank, Their flesh I ate, their blood I drank, And with my cruel deeds dismayed All dwellers in the forest shade, Spoiling their rites in bitter hate, With human blood inebriate. Once in the wood I chanced to see Rama again, a devotee, A hermit, fed on scanty fare, Who made the good of all his care. His noble wife was by his side, And Lakshman in the battle tried. In senseless pride I scorned the might Of that illustrious anchorite, And heedless of a hermit foe, Recalled my earlier overthrow. I charged him in my rage and scorn To slay him with my pointed horn, In heedless haste, to fury wrought As on my former wounds I thought. Then from the mighty bow he drew Three foe-destroying arrows flew, Keen-pointed, leaping from the string, Swift as the wind or feathered king. Dire shafts, on flesh of foemen fed, Like rushing thunderbolts they sped, With knots well smoothed and barbs well bent, Shot e'en as one, the arrows went. But I who Rama's might had felt, And knew the blows the hero dealt, Escaped by rapid flight. The two Who lingered on the spot, he slew. I fled from mortal danger, freed From the dire shaft by timely speed. Now to deep thought my days I give, And as a humble hermit live. In every shrub, in every tree I view that noblest devotee.

But Sita of the lovely smile, A captive to the giant's wile, Turned Lakshman's prudent speech aside And thus with eager words replied: "My honoured lord, this deer I see With beauty rare enraptures me. Go, chief of mighty arm, and bring For my delight this precious thing. Fair creatures of the woodland roam Untroubled near our hermit home. The forest cow and stag are there, The fawn, the monkey, and the bear, Where spotted deer delight to play, And strong and beauteous Kinnars(494) stray. But never, as they wandered by, Has such a beauty charmed mine eye As this with limbs so fair and slight, So gentle, beautiful and bright. O see, how fair it is to view With jewels of each varied hue: Bright as the rising moon it glows, Lighting the wood where'er it goes. Ah me, what form and grace are there! Its limbs how fine, its hues how fair! Transcending all that words express, It takes my soul with loveliness. O, if thou would, to please me, strive To take the beauteous thing alive, How thou wouldst gaze with wondering eyes Delighted on the lovely prize! And when our woodland life is o'er, And we enjoy our realm once more, The wondrous animal will grace The chambers of my dwelling-place, And a dear treasure will it be To Bharat and the queens and me, And all with rapture and amaze Upon its heavenly form will gaze. But if the beauteous deer, pursued, Thine arts to take it still elude, Strike it, O chieftain, and the skin Will be a treasure, laid within. O, how I long my time to pass Sitting upon the tender grass, With that soft fell beneath me spread Bright with its hair of golden thread! This strong desire, this eager will, Befits a gentle lady ill: But when I first beheld, its look My breast with fascination took. See, golden hair its flank adorns, And sapphires tip its branching horns. Resplendent as the lunar way, Or the first blush of opening day, With graceful form and radiant hue It charmed thy heart, O chieftain, too."

Kausalya saw the monarch lie With drooping frame and failing eye, And for her banished son distressed With these sad words her lord addressed: "Kaikeyi, cruel, false, and vile Has cast the venom of her guile On Rama lord of men, and she Will ravage like a snake set free; And more and more my soul alarm, Like a dire serpent bent on harm, For triumph crowns each dark intent, And Rama to the wild is sent. Ah, were he doomed but here to stray Begging his food from day to day, Or do, enslaved, Kaikeyi's will, This were a boon, a comfort still. But she, as chose her cruel hate, Has hurled him from his high estate, As Brahmans when the moon is new Cast to the ground the demons' due.(318) The long-armed hero, like the lord Of Nagas, with his bow and sword Begins, I ween, his forest life With Lakshman and his faithful wife. Ah, how will fare the exiles now, Whom, moved by Queen Kaikeyi, thou Hast sent in forests to abide, Bred in delights, by woe untried? Far banished when their lives are young, With the fair fruit before them hung, Deprived of all their rank that suits, How will they live on grain and roots? O, that my years of woe were passed, And the glad hour were come at last When I shall see my children dear, Rama, his wife, and Lakshman here! When shall Ayodhya, wild with glee, Again those mighty heroes see, And decked with wreaths her banners wave To welcome home the true and brave? When will the beautiful city view With happy eyes the lordly two Returning, joyful as the main When the dear moon is full again? When, like some mighty bull who leads The cow exulting through the meads, Will Rama through the city ride, Strong-armed, with Sita at his side? When will ten thousand thousand meet And crowd Ayodhya's royal street, And grain in joyous welcome throw Upon my sons who tame the foe? When with delight shall youthful bands Of Brahman maidens in their hands Bear fruit and flowers in goodly show, And circling round Ayodhya go?

Kausalya ceased her sad lament, Of beauteous dames most excellent. Sumitra who to duty clave, In righteous words this answer gave: "Dear Queen, all noble virtues grace Thy son, of men the first in place. Why dost thou shed these tears of woe With bitter grief lamenting so? If Rama, leaving royal sway Has hastened to the woods away, 'Tis for his high-souled father's sake That he his premise may not break. He to the path of duty clings Which lordly fruit hereafter brings-- The path to which the righteous cleave-- For him, dear Queen, thou shouldst not grieve. And Lakshman too, the blameless-souled, The same high course with him will hold, And mighty bliss on him shall wait, So tenderly compassionate. And Sita, bred with tender care, Well knows what toils await her there, But in her love she will not part From Rama of the virtuous heart. Now has thy son through all the world The banner of his fame unfurled; True, modest, careful of his vow, What has he left to aim at now? The sun will mark his mighty soul, His wisdom, sweetness, self-control, Will spare from pain his face and limb, And with soft radiance shine for him. For him through forest glades shall spring A soft auspicious breeze, and bring Its tempered heat and cold to play Around him ever night and day. The pure cold moonbeams shall delight The hero as he sleeps at night, And soothe him with the soft caress Of a fond parent's tenderness. To him, the bravest of the brave, His heavenly arms the Brahman gave, When fierce Suvahu dyed the plain With his life-blood by Rama slain. Still trusting to his own right arm Thy hero son will fear no harm: As in his father's palace, he In the wild woods will dauntless be. Whene'er he lets his arrows fly His stricken foemen fall and die: And is that prince of peerless worth Too weak to keep and sway the earth? His sweet pure soul, his beauty's charm, His hero heart, his warlike arm, Will soon redeem his rightful reign When from the woods he comes again.

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.

As Guha thus, and Bharat, each To other spoke in friendly speech, The Day-God sank with glory dead, And night o'er all the sky was spread. Soon as King Guha's thoughtful care Had quartered all the army there, Well honoured, Bharat laid his head Beside Satrughna on a bed. But grief for Rama yet oppressed High-minded Bharat's faithful breast-- Such torment little was deserved By him who ne'er from duty swerved. The fever raged through every vein And burnt him with its inward pain: So when in woods the flames leap free The fire within consumes the tree. From heat of burning anguish sprung The sweat upon his body hung, As when the sun with fervid glow On high Himalaya melts the snow. As, banished from the herd, a bull Wanders alone and sorrowful. Thus sighing and distressed, In misery and bitter grief, With fevered heart that mocked relief, Distracted in his mind, the chief Still mourned and found no rest.

He spoke: the monarch gave assent, And Rama to the hermit lent. So to his woodland home in joy Went Visvamitra with the boy. With ready bow the champion stood To guard the rites in Dandak wood. With glorious eyes, most bright to view, Beardless as yet and dark of hue; A single robe his only wear, His temples veiled with waving hair, Around his neck a chain of gold, He grasped the bow he loved to hold; And the young hero's presence made A glory in the forest shade. Thus Rama with his beauteous mien, Like the young rising moon was seen, I, like a cloud which tempest brings, My arms adorned with golden rings, Proud of the boon which lent me might, Approached where dwelt the anchorite. But Rama saw me venturing nigh, Raising my murderous axe on high; He saw, and fearless of the foe, Strung with calm hand his trusty bow. By pride of conscious strength beguiled, I scorned him as a feeble child, And rushed with an impetuous bound On Visvamitra's holy ground. A keen swift shaft he pointed well, The foeman's rage to check and quell, And hurled a hundred leagues away Deep in the ocean waves I lay. He would not kill, but, nobly brave, My forfeit life he chose to save. So there I lay with wandering sense Dazed by that arrow's violence. Long in the sea I lay: at length Slowly returned my sense and strength, And rising from my watery bed To Lanka's town again I sped. Thus was I spared, but all my band Fell slain by Rama's conquering hand,-- A boy, untrained in warrior's skill, Of iron arm and dauntless will. If thou with Rama still, in spite Of warning and of prayer, wilt fight, I see terrific woes impend, And dire defeat thy days will end. Thy giants all will feel the blow And share the fatal overthrow, Who love the taste of joy and play, The banquet and the festal day. Thine eyes will see destruction take Thy Lanka, lost for Sita's sake, And stately pile and palace fall With terrace, dome, and jewelled wall.

Then from the flood Sampati paid Due offerings to his brother's shade. He bathed him when the rites were done, And spake again to Bali's son: "Now listen, Prince, while I relate How first I learned the lady's fate. Burnt by the sun's resistless might I fell and lay on Vindhya's height. Seven nights in deadly swoon I passed, But struggling life returned at last. Around I bent my wondering view, But every spot was strange and new. I scanned the sea with eager ken, And rock and brook and lake and glen, I saw gay trees their branches wave, And creepers mantling o'er the cave. I heard the wild birds' joyous song, And waters as they foamed along, And knew the lovely hill must be Mount Vindhya by the southern sea. Revered by heavenly beings, stood Near where I lay, a sacred wood, Where great Nisakar dwelt of yore And pains of awful penance bore. Eight thousand seasons winged their flight Over the toiling anchorite-- Upon that hill my days were spent,-- And then to heaven the hermit went. At last, with long and hard assay, Down from that height I made my way, And wandered through the mountain pass Rough with the spikes of Darbha grass. I with my misery worn, and faint Was eager to behold the saint: For often with Jatayus I Had sought his home in days gone by. As nearer to the grove I drew The breeze with cooling fragrance blew, And not a tree that was not fair, With richest flower and fruit was there. With anxious heart a while I stayed Beneath the trees' delightful shade, And soon the holy hermit, bright With fervent penance, came in sight. Behind him bears and lions, tame As those who know their feeder, came, And tigers, deer, and snakes pursued His steps, a wondrous multitude, And turned obeisant when the sage Had reached his shady hermitage. Then came Nisakar to my side And looked with wondering eyes, and cried: "I knew thee not, so dire a change Has made thy form and feature strange. Where are thy glossy feathers? where The rapid wings that cleft the air?

The Wind-God's son the fight beheld, And rushed at Ravan, rage-impelled. Down crashed his mighty hand; the foe Full in the chest received the blow. His eyes grew dim, his knees gave way, And senseless on the earth he lay.

When Vishnu thus had gone on earth, From the great king to take his birth, The self-existent Lord of all Addressed the Gods who heard his call: "For Vishnu's sake, the strong and true, Who seeks the good of all of you, Make helps, in war to lend him aid, In forms that change at will, arrayed, Of wizard skill and hero might, Outstrippers of the wind in flight, Skilled in the arts of counsel, wise, And Vishnu's peers in bold emprise; With heavenly arts and prudence fraught, By no devices to be caught; Skilled in all weapon's lore and use As they who drink the immortal juice.(111) And let the nymphs supreme in grace, And maidens of the minstrel race, Monkeys and snakes, and those who rove Free spirits of the hill and grove, And wandering Daughters of the Air, In monkey form brave children bear. So erst the lord of bears I shaped, Born from my mouth as wide I gaped."

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.

Their threats unfeared, their counsel spurned, The demons' breasts with fury burned. Some sought the giant king to bear The tale of Sita's fixt despair. With threats and taunts renewed the rest Around the weeping lady pressed. But Trijata, of softer mould, A Rakshas matron wise and old, With pity for the captive moved, In words like these the fiends reproved: "Me, me," she cried, "eat me, but spare The spouse of Dasaratha's heir. Last night I dreamt a dream; and still The fear and awe my bosom chill; For in that dream I saw foreshown Our race by Rama's hand o'erthrown. I saw a chariot high in air, Of ivory exceeding fair. A hundred steeds that chariot drew As swiftly through the clouds it flew, And, clothed in white, with wreaths that shone, The sons of Raghu rode thereon. I looked and saw this lady here, Clad in the purest white, appear High on the snow white hill whose feet The angry waves of ocean beat. And she and Rama met at last Like light and sun when night is past. Again I saw them side by side. On Ravan's car they seemed to ride, And with the princely Lakshman flee To northern realms beyond the sea. Then Ravan, shaved and shorn, besmeared With oil from head to foot, appeared. He quaffed, he raved: his robes were red: Fierce was his eye, and bare his head. I saw him from his chariot thrust; I saw him rolling in the dust. A woman came and dragged away The stricken giant where he lay, And on a car which asses drew The monarch of our race she threw. He rose erect, he danced and laughed, With thirsty lips the oil he quaffed, Then with wild eyes and streaming mouth Sped on the chariot to the south.(844) Then, dropping oil from every limb, His sons the princes followed him, And Kumbhakarna,(845) shaved and shorn, Was southward on a camel borne. Then royal Lanka reeled and fell With gate and tower and citadel. This ancient city, far-renowned: All life within her walls was drowned; And the wild waves of ocean rolled O'er Lanka and her streets of gold.

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."

While fires of woe consumed her, such Her sad appeal, lamenting much; Then with a wild cry, anguish-wrung, About her husband's neck she clung. Like some she-elephant who bleeds Struck by the hunter's venomed reeds, So in her quivering heart she felt The many wounds his speeches dealt. Then, as the spark from wood is gained,(305) Down rolled the tear so long restrained: The crystal moisture, sprung from woe, From her sweet eyes began to flow, As runs the water from a pair Of lotuses divinely fair. And Sita's face with long dark eyes, Pure as the moon of autumn skies, Faded with weeping, as the buds Of lotuses when sink the floods. Around his wife his arms he strained, Who senseless from her woe remained, And with sweet words, that bade her wake To life again, the hero spake: "I would not with thy woe, my Queen, Buy heaven and all its blissful sheen. Void of all fear am I as He, The self-existent God, can be. I knew not all thy heart till now, Dear lady of the lovely brow, So wished not thee in woods to dwell; Yet there mine arm can guard thee well. Now surely thou, dear love, wast made To dwell with me in green wood shade. And, as a high saint's tender mind Clings to its love for all mankind, So I to thee will ever cling, Sweet daughter of Videha's king. The good, of old, O soft of frame, Honoured this duty's sovereign claim, And I its guidance will not shun, True as light's Queen is to the Sun. I cannot, pride of Janak's line, This journey to the wood decline: My sire's behest, the oath he sware, The claims of truth, all lead me there. One duty, dear the same for aye, Is sire and mother to obey: Should I their orders once transgress My very life were weariness. If glad obedience be denied To father, mother, holy guide, What rites, what service can be done That stern Fate's favour may be won? These three the triple world comprise, O darling of the lovely eyes. Earth has no holy thing like these Whom with all love men seek to please.

"Assailed by thirst and hunger, dame, Within a gloomy vault we came. We saw the cavern opening wide, And straight within its depths we hied. But utterly amazed are we At all the marvels that we see. Whose are the golden trees that gleam With splendour like the morning's beam? These cates of noblest sort? these roots? This wondrous store of rarest fruits? Whose are these calm and cool retreats, These silver homes and golden seats, And lattices of precious stones? Who is the happy lord that owns The golden trees, of rarest scent, Neath loads of fruit and blossom bent? Who, strong in holy zeal, had power To deck the streams with richest dower, And bade the lilies bright with gold The glory of their blooms unfold, Where fish in living gold below The sheen of changing colours show? Thine is the holy power, I ween, That beautified the wondrous scene; But if another's, lady, deign To tell us, and the whole explain."

He spends his time unvext by cares, And robes of precious texture wears: How shall he, with one garment round His limbs recline upon the ground? Whose was this plan, this cruel thought Unheard till now, with ruin fraught, To make thy son Ayodhya's king, And send my Rama wandering? Shame, shame on women! Vile, untrue, Their selfish ends they still pursue. Not all of womankind I mean. But more than all this wicked queen. O worthless, cruel, selfish dame, I brought thee home, my plague and woe. What fault in me hast thou to blame, Or in my son who loves thee so? Fond wives may from their husbands flee, And fathers may their sons desert, But all the world would rave to see My Rama touched with deadly hurt. I joy his very step to hear, As though his godlike form I viewed; And when I see my Rama near I feel my youth again renewed. There might be life without the sun, Yea, e'en if Indra sent no rain, But, were my Rama banished, none Would, so I think, alive remain. A foe that longs my life to take, I brought thee here my death to be, Caressed thee long, a venomed snake, And through my folly die. Ah me! Rama and me and Lakshman slay, And then with Bharat rule the state; So bring the kingdom to decay, And fawn on those thy lord who hate, Plotter of woe, for evil bred, For such a speech why do not all Thy teeth from out thy wicked head Split in a thousand pieces fall? My Rama's words are ever kind, He knows not how to speak in ire: Then how canst thou presume to find A fault in him whom all admire? Yield to despair, go mad, or die, Or sink within the rifted earth; Thy fell request will I deny, Thou shamer of thy royal birth. Thy longer life I scarce can bear, Thou ruin of my home and race, Who wouldst my heart and heartstrings tear, Keen as a razor, false and base. My life is gone, why speak of joy? For what, without my son, were sweet? Spare, lady, him thou canst destroy; I pray thee as I touch thy feet."

Forth came impetuous Bali, stirred To fury by the shout he heard. So the great sun, ere night has ceased, Springs up impatient to the east. Then fierce and wild the conflict raged As hand to hand the foes engaged, As though in battle mid the stars Fought Mercury and fiery Mars.(575) To highest pitch of frenzy wrought With fists like thunderbolts they fought, While near them Rama took his stand, And viewed the battle, bow in hand. Alike they stood in form and might, Like heavenly Asvins(576) paired in fight, Nor might the son of Raghu know Where fought the friend and where the foe; So, while his bow was ready bent, No life-destroying shaft he sent. Crushed down by Bali's mightier stroke Sugriva's force now sank and broke, Who, hoping naught from Rama's aid, To Rishyamuka fled dismayed, Weary, and faint, and wounded sore, His body bruised and dyed with gore, From Bali's blows, in rage and dread, Afar to sheltering woods he fled.

He ceased: the spy his fear controlled, And to the king his story told: "I reached the ocean's distant shore, Thy message to the king I bore. In sudden wrath the Vanars rose, They struck me down with furious blows; They seized me helpless on the ground, My plumage rent, my pinions bound. They would not, headlong in their ire, Consider, listen, or inquire; So fickle, wrathful, rough and rude Is the wild forest multitude. There, marshalling the Vanar bands, King Rama with Sugriva stands, Rama the matchless warrior, who Viradha and Kabandha slew, Khara, and countless giants more, And tracks his queen to Lanka's shore. A bridge athwart the sea was cast, And o'er it have his legions passed. Hark! heralded by horns and drums The terrible avenger comes. E'en now the giants' isle he fills With warriors huge as clouds and hills, And burning with vindictive hate Will thunder soon at Lanka's gate. Yield or oppose him: choose between Thy safety and the Maithil queen."

Sushen made answer: "Hear me yet: When Gods and fiends in battle met, So fiercely fought the demon crew, So wild a storm of arrows flew, That heavenly warriors faint with pain, Sank smitten by the ceaseless rain. Vrihaspati,(959) with herb and spell, Cured the sore wounds of those who fell. And, skilled in arts that heal and save, New life and sense and vigour gave. Far, on the Milky Ocean's shore, Still grow those herbs in boundless store; Let swiftest Vanars thither speed And bring them for our utmost need. Those herbs that on the mountain spring Let Panas and Sampati bring, For well the wondrous leaves they know, That heal each wound and life bestow. Beside that sea which, churned of yore, The amrit on its surface bore, Where the white billows lash the land, Chandra's fair height and Drona stand. Planted by Gods each glittering steep Looks down upon the milky deep. Let fleet Hanuman bring us thence Those herbs of wondrous influence."

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.

With amorous look and soft address The fiend began his suit to press: "Why wouldst thou, lady lotus-eyed, From my fond glance those beauties hide? Mine eager suit no more repel: But love me, for I love thee well. Dismiss, sweet dame, dismiss thy fear; No giant and no man is near. Ours is the right by force to seize What dames soe'er our fancy please.(828) But I with rude hands will not touch A lady whom I love so much. Fear not, dear queen: no fear is nigh: Come, on thy lover's love rely, Some little sign of favor show, Nor lie enamoured of thy woe. Those limbs upon that cold earth laid, Those tresses twined in single braid,(829) The fast and woe that wear thy frame, Beseem not thee, O beauteous dame. For thee the fairest wreaths were meant, The sandal and the aloe's scent, Rich ornaments and pearls of price, And vesture meet for Paradise. With dainty cates shouldst thou be fed, And rest upon a sumptuous bed. And festive joys to thee belong, The music, and the dance and song. Rise, pearl of women, rise and deck With gems and chains thine arms and neck. Shall not the dame I love be seen In vesture worthy of a queen? Methinks when thy sweet form was made His hand the wise Creator stayed; For never more did he design A beauty meet to rival thine. Come, let us love while yet we may, For youth will fly and charms decay, Come cast thy grief and fear aside, And be my love, my chosen bride. The gems and jewels that my hand Has reft from every plundered land,-- To thee I give them all this day, And at thy feet my kingdom lay. The broad rich earth will I o'errun, And leave no town unconquered, none; Then of the whole an offering make To Janak,(830) dear, for thy sweet sake. In all the world no power I see Of God or man can strive with me. Of old the Gods and Asurs set In terrible array I met: Their scattered hosts to earth I beat, And trod their flags beneath my feet. Come, taste of bliss and drink thy fill, And rule the slave who serves thy will.

He spoke, and hurled the mass he held: The giant's chest the stroke repelled, Then on the Vanars fell despair, And Rakshas clamour filled the air. The giant raised his arm, and fast Came the tremendous(980) spear he cast. Hanuman caught it as it flew, And knapped it on his knee in two. The giant saw the broken spear: His clouded eye confessed his fear; Yet at Sugriva's head he sent A peak from Lanka's mountain rent. The rushing mass no might could stay: Sugriva fell and senseless lay. The giant stooped his foe to seize, And bore him thence, as bears the breeze A cloud in autumn through the sky. He heard the sad Immortals sigh, And shouts of triumph long and loud Went up from all the Rakshas crowd. Through Lanka's gate the giant passed Holding his struggling captive fast, While from each terrace, house, and tower Fell on his haughty head a shower Of fragrant scent and flowery rain, Blossoms and leaves and scattered grain.(981)

Thus Rama bade Sumantra go With thoughtful care instructed so. Sumantra all his message heard, And spake again, by passion stirred: "O, should deep feeling mar in aught The speech by fond devotion taught, Forgive whate'er I wildly speak: My love is strong, my tongue is weak. How shall I, if deprived of thee, Return that mournful town to see: Where sick at heart the people are Because their Rama roams afar. Woe will be theirs too deep to brook When on the empty car they look, As when from hosts, whose chiefs are slain, One charioteer comes home again. This very day, I ween, is food Forsworn by all the multitude, Thinking that thou, with hosts to aid, Art dwelling in the wild wood's shade. The great despair, the shriek of woe They uttered when they saw thee go, Will, when I come with none beside, A hundred-fold be multiplied. How to Kausalya can I say: "O Queen, I took thy son away, And with thy brother left him well: Weep not for him; thy woe dispel?" So false a tale I cannot frame, Yet how speak truth and grieve the dame? How shall these horses, fleet and bold, Whom not a hand but mine can hold, Bear others, wont to whirl the car Wherein Ikshvaku's children are! Without thee, Prince, I cannot, no, I cannot to Ayodhya go. Then deign, O Rama, to relent, And let me share thy banishment. But if no prayers can move thy heart, If thou wilt quit me and depart, The flames shall end my car and me, Deserted thus and reft of thee. In the wild wood when foes are near, When dangers check thy vows austere, Borne in my car will I attend, All danger and all care to end. For thy dear sake I love the skill That guides the steed and curbs his will: And soon a forest life will be As pleasant, for my love of thee. And if these horses near thee dwell, And serve thee in the forest well, They, for their service, will not miss The due reward of highest bliss. Thine orders, as with thee I stray, Will I with heart and head obey, Prepared, for thee, without a sigh, To lose Ayodhya or the sky.

Thus having said to heaven he went, The saint, upon his task intent, Began his labours to renew, Which sterner yet and fiercer grew. His arms upraised, without a rest, With but one foot the earth he pressed; The air his food, the hermit stood Still as a pillar hewn from wood. Around him in the summer days Five mighty fires combined to blaze. In floods of rain no veil was spread Save clouds, to canopy his head. In the dank dews both night and day Couched in the stream the hermit lay. Thus, till a thousand years had fled, He plied his task of penance dread. Then Vishnu and the Gods with awe The labours of the hermit saw, And Sakra, in his troubled breast, Lord of the skies, his fear confessed. And brooded on a plan to spoil The merits of the hermit's toil. Encompassed by his Gods of Storm He summoned Rambha, fair of form, And spoke a speech for woe and weal, The saint to mar, the God to heal.

Sumantra, sad and all dismayed, The chieftain's order swift obeyed. Within the palace doors he hied And saw the king, who wept and sighed. Like the great sun when wrapped in shade Like fire by ashes overlaid, Or like a pool with waters dried, So lay the world's great lord and pride, A while the wise Sumantra gazed On him whose senses woe has dazed, Grieving for Rama. Near he drew With hands upraised in reverence due. With blessing first his king he hailed; Then with a voice that well-nigh failed, In trembling accents soft and low Addressed the monarch in his woe: "The prince of men, thy Rama, waits Before thee at the palace gates. His wealth to Brahmans he has dealt, And all who in his home have dwelt. Admit thy son. His friends have heard His kind farewell and parting word, He longs to see thee first, and then Will seek the wilds, O King of men. He, with each princely virtue's blaze, Shines as the sun engirt by rays."

With every arm of war supplied, On-rushing wildly like the tide Of some deep sea, the giant host Approached where Rama kept his post. Then he, in battle skilled and tried, Bent his keen eye on every side, And viewed the host of Khara face To face before his dwelling-place. He drew his arrows forth, and reared And strained that bow which foemen feared, And yielded to the vengeful sway Of fierce desire that host to slay. Terrific as the ruinous fire That ends the worlds, he glowed in ire, And his tremendous form dismayed The Gods who roam the forest shade. For in the furious wrath that glowed Within his soul the hero showed Like Siva when his angry might Stayed Daksha's sacrificial rite.(466) Like some great cloud at dawn of day When first the sun upsprings, And o'er the gloomy mass each ray A golden radiance flings: Thus showed the children of the night, Whose mail and chariots threw, With gleam of bows and armlets bright, Flashes of flamy hue.

"Charge, let the gates be opened wide: Charge, charge, my giants," Ravan cried. They heard his voice, and loud and long Rang the wild clamour of the throng, And shell and drum their notes upsent, And every martial instrument. Forth, at the bidding of their lord From every gate the giants poured, As, when the waters rise and swell, Huge waves preceding waves impel. Again from every Vanar throat A scream of fierce defiance smote The welkin: earth and sea and sky Reechoed with the awful cry. The roar of elephants, the neigh Of horses eager for the fray. The frequent clash of warriors' steel, The rattling of the chariot wheel. Fierce was the deadly fight: opposed In terrible array they closed, As when the Gods of heaven enraged With rebel fiends wild battle waged. Axe, spear, and mace were wielded well: At every blow a Vanar fell. But shivered rock and brandished tree Brought many a giant on his knee, To perish in his turn beneath The deadly wounds of nails and teeth.

message to Rama and bid him hasten to rescue her. Hanuman replies as before that there is no one on earth equal to Rama, who will soon come and destroy Ravan. There is not a new idea in the two Cantos: all is reiteration.]

The royal lady wounded through The bosom with the darts that flew Launched from the hump-back's tongue Pressed both her hands upon her side, And o'er and o'er again she cried With wildering fury stung: "Yes, it shall be thy task to tell That I have hurried hence to dwell In Yama's realms of woe, Or happy Bharat shall be king, And doomed to years of wandering Kausalya's son shall go. I heed not dainty viands now Fair wreaths of flowers to twine my brow, Soft balm or precious scent: My very life I count as naught, Nothing on earth can claim my thought But Rama's banishment." She spoke these words of cruel ire; Then stripping off her gay attire, The cold bare floor she pressed. So, falling from her home on high, Some lovely daughter of the sky Upon the ground might rest. With darkened brow and furious mien, Stripped of her gems and wreath, the queen In spotless beauty lay, Like heaven obscured with gathering cloud, When shades of midnight darkness shroud Each star's expiring ray.

When Rama's speech had found a close, Brave Lakshman, terror of his foes, With wise and soothing words addressed Sugriva still with woe oppressed: "Arise Sugriva," thus he said, "Perform the service of the dead. Prepare with Tara and her son That Bali's rites be duly done. A store of funeral wood provide Which wind and sun and time have dried And richest sandal fit to grace The pyre of one of royal race. With words of comfort soft and kind Console poor Angad's troubled mind, Nor let thy heart be thus cast down, For thine is now the Vanars' town. Let Angad's care a wreath supply, And raiment rich with varied dye, And oil and perfumes for the fire, And all the solemn rites require. Go, hasten to the town, O King, And Tara's little quickly bring. A virtue is despatch: and speed Is best of all in hour of need. Go, let a chosen band prepare The litter of the dead to bear. For stout and tall and strong of limb Must be the chiefs who carry him."

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 Tara questioned, and was still: Then, wearers of each shape at will, The Vanars thus with one accord Answered the Lady of their lord: "Turn, Tara turn, and half undone Save Angad thy beloved son. There Rama stands in death's disguise, And conquered Bali faints and dies. He by whose strong arm, thick and fast, Uprooted trees and rocks were cast, Lies smitten by a shaft that came Resistless as the lightning flame. When he, whose splendour once could vie With Indra's, regent of the sky, Fell by that deadly arrow, all The Vanars fled who marked his fall. Let all our chiefs their succours bring, And Angad be anointed king; For all who come of Vanar race Will serve him set in Bali's place. Or else our conquering foes to-day Within our wall will force their way, Polluting with their hostile feet The chambers of thy loved retreat. Great fear is on us, all and one. Those who have wives and who have none, They lust for power, are fierce and bold, Or hate us for the strife of old."

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."

Then met on high in bright array, With eyes that longed to see the fray, God and Gandharva, sage and saint, With beings pure from earthly taint. Blest for good works aforetime wrought, Thus each to other spake his thought: "Now joy to Brahmans, joy to kine, And all whom world count half divine! May Raghu's offspring slay in fight Pulastya's sons who roam by night!" In words like these and more, the best Of high-souled saints their hopes expressed, Bending their eager eyes from where Car-borne with Gods they rode in air. Beneath them stretching far, they viewed The giants' death-doomed multitude. They saw where, urged with fury, far Before the host rolled Khara's car, And close beside their leader came Twelve giant peers of might and fame. Four other chiefs(463) before the rest Behind their leader Dushan pressed. Impetuous, cruel, dark, and dread, All thirsting for the fray, The hosts of giant warriors sped Onward upon their way. With eager speed they reached the spot Where dwelt the princely two,-- Like planets in a league to blot The sun and moon from view.

Thus spake Ikshvaku's son, and ceased: The giants from their bonds released Lauded the King with glad accord, And hasted homeward to their lord. Before the tyrant side by side Suka and Saran stood and cried: "Vibhishan seized us, King, and fain His helpless captives would have slain. But glorious Rama saw us; he, Great-hearted hero, made us free. There in one spot our eyes beheld Four chiefs on earth unparalleled, Who with the guardian Gods may vie Who rule the regions of the sky. There Rama stood, the boast and pride Of Raghu's race, by Lakshman's side. There stood the sage Vibhishan, there Sugriva strong beyond compare. These four alone can batter down Gate, rampart, wall, and Lanka's town. Nay, Rama matchless in his form, A single foe, thy town would storm: So wondrous are his weapons, he Needs not the succour of the three. Why speak we of the countless train That fills the valley, hill and plain, The millions of the Vanar breed Whom Rama and Sugriva lead? O King, be wise, contend no more, And Sita to her lord restore."

It chanced that Jahnu, great and good, Engaged with holy offerings stood; The river spread her waves around Flooding his sacrificial ground. The saint in anger marked her pride, And at one draught her stream he dried. Then God, and sage, and bard, afraid, To noble high-souled Jahnu prayed, And begged that he would kindly deem His own dear child that holy stream. Moved by their suit, he soothed their fears And loosed her waters from his ears. Hence Ganga through the world is styled Both Jahnavi and Jahnu's child. Then onward still she followed fast, And reached the great sea bank at last. Thence deep below her way she made To end those rites so long delayed. The monarch reached the Ocean's side, And still behind him Ganga hied. He sought the depths which open lay Where Sagar's sons had dug their way. So leading through earth's nether caves The river's purifying waves, Over his kinsmen's dust the lord His funeral libation poured. Soon as the flood their dust bedewed, Their spirits gained beatitude, And all in heavenly bodies dressed Rose to the skies' eternal rest.

"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."