Ramayana on Peace

The bow-armed princes onward passed, And as the sun was sinking fast They reached the hermit's dwelling, set Near where the rushing waters met. The presence of the warrior scared The deer and birds as on he fared, And struck them with unwonted awe: Then Bharadvaja's cot they saw. The high-souled hermit soon they found Girt by his dear disciples round: Calm saint, whose vows had well been wrought, Whose fervent rites keen sight had bought. Duly had flames of worship blazed When Rama on the hermit gazed: His suppliant hands the hero raised, Drew nearer to the holy man With his companions, and began, Declaring both his name and race And why they sought that distant place: "Saint, Dasaratha's children we, Rama and Lakshman, come to thee. This my good wife from Janak springs, The best of fair Videha's kings; Through lonely wilds, a faultless dame, To this pure grove with me she came. My younger brother follows still Me banished by my father's will: Sumitra's son, bound by a vow,-- He roams the wood beside me now. Sent by my father forth to rove, We seek, O Saint, some holy grove, Where lives of hermits we may lead, And upon fruits and berries feed."

When Savari had sought the skies And gained her splendid virtue's prize, Rama with Lakshman stayed to brood O'er the strange scenes their eyes had viewed. His mind upon those saints was bent, For power and might preeminent And he to musing Lakshman spoke The thoughts that in his bosom woke: "Mine eyes this wondrous home have viewed Of those great saints with souls subdued, Where peaceful tigers dwell and birds, And deer abound in heedless herds. Our feet upon the banks have stood Of those seven lakes within the wood, Where we have duly dipped, and paid Libations to each royal shade. Forgotten now are thoughts of ill And joyful hopes my bosom fill. Again my heart is light and gay And grief and care have passed away. Come, brother, let us hasten where Bright Pampa's flood is fresh and fair, And towering in their beauty near Mount Rishyamuka's heights appear, Which, offspring of the Lord of Light, Still fearing Bali's conquering might, With four brave chiefs of Vanar race Sugriva makes his dwelling-place. I long with eager heart to find That leader of the Vanar kind, For on that chief my hopes depend That this our quest have prosperous end."

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

The princely tamers of their foes Thus passed the night in calm repose, Then to the hermit having bent With reverence, on their way they went. High favour Bharadvaja showed, And blessed them ready for the road. With such fond looks as fathers throw On their own sons, before they go. Then spake the saint with glory bright To Rama peerless in his might: "First, lords of men, direct your feet Where Yamuna and Ganga meet; Then to the swift Kalindi(330) go, Whose westward waves to Ganga flow. When thou shalt see her lovely shore Worn by their feet who hasten o'er, Then, Raghu's son, a raft prepare, And cross the Sun born river there. Upon her farther bank a tree, Near to the landing wilt thou see. The blessed source of varied gifts, There her green boughs that Fig-tree lifts: A tree where countless birds abide, By Syama's name known far and wide. Sita, revere that holy shade: There be thy prayers for blessing prayed. Thence for a league your way pursue, And a dark wood shall meet your view, Where tall bamboos their foliage show, The Gum-tree and the Jujube grow. To Chitrakuta have I oft Trodden that path so smooth and soft, Where burning woods no traveller scare, But all is pleasant, green, and fair."

To him the lady of the cave In words like these her answer gave: "Skilled Maya framed in days of old This magic wood of growing gold. The chief artificer in place Was he of all the Danav race. He, for his wise enchantments famed, This glorious dwelling planned and framed He for a thousand years endured The sternest penance, and secured From Brahma of all boons the best, The knowledge Usanas(752) possessed. Lord, by that boon, of all his will, He fashioned all with perfect skill; And, with his blissful state content, In this vast grove a season spent. By Indra's jealous bolt he fell For loving Hema's(753) charms too well. And Brahma on that nymph bestowed The treasures of this fair abode, Wherein her tranquil days to spend In happiness that ne'er may end. Sprung of a lineage old and high, Merusavarni's(754) daughter, I Guard ever for that heavenly dame This home, Svayamprabha(755) my name,-- For I have loved the lady long, So skilled in arts of dance and song. But say what cause your steps has led The mazes of this grove to tread. How, strangers did ye chance to spy The wood concealed from wanderer's eye? Tell clearly why ye come: but first Eat of this fruit and quench your thirst."

Quick breathing like a furious snake, With tears and sobs the hero spake, With reddened eyes aglow with rage. And Bharadvaja, mighty sage, Supreme in wisdom, calm and grave, In words like these good counsel gave: "O Bharat, hear the words I say; On her the fault thou must not lay: For many a blessing yet will spring From banished Rama's wandering." And Bharat, with that promise cheered, Went circling round that saint revered, He humbly bade farewell, and then Gave orders to collect his men. Prompt at the summons thousands flew To cars which noble coursers drew, Bright-gleaming, glorious to behold, Adorned with wealth of burnished gold. Then female elephants and male, Gold-girthed, with flags that wooed the gale, Marched with their bright bells' tinkling chime Like clouds when ends the summer time: Some cars were huge and some were light, For heavy draught or rapid flight, Of costly price, of every kind, With clouds of infantry behind. The dames, Kausalya at their head, Were in the noblest chariots led, And every gentle bosom beat With hope the banished prince to meet. The royal Bharat, glory-crowned, With all his retinue around, Borne in a beauteous litter rode, Like the young moon and sun that glowed. The army as it streamed along, Cars, elephants, in endless throng, Showed, marching on its southward way, Like autumn clouds in long array.

He heard, his bosom rent by grief, The counsel of his brother chief; Crushed in his heart the maddening pain, And rose resolved and strong again. Then forth upon his journey went The hero on his task intent, Nor thought of Pampa's lovely brook, Or trees which murmuring breezes shook, Though on dark woods his glances fell, On waterfall and cave and dell; And still by many a care distressed The son of Raghu onward pressed. As some wild elephant elate Moves through the woods in pride, So Lakshman with majestic gait Strode by his brother's side. He, for his lofty spirit famed, Admonished and consoled; Showed Raghu's son what duty claimed, And bade his heart be bold. Then as the brothers strode apace To Rishyamuka's height, The sovereign of the Vanar race(536) Was troubled at the sight. As on the lofty hill he strayed He saw the chiefs draw near: A while their glorious forms surveyed, And mused in restless fear. His slow majestic step he stayed And gazed upon the pair. And all his spirit sank dismayed By fear too great to bear. When in their glorious might the best Of royal chiefs came nigh, The Vanars in their wild unrest Prepared to turn and fly. They sought the hermit's sacred home(537) For peace and bliss ordained, And there, where Vanars loved to roam, A sure asylum gained.

He spoke by generous impulse moved, And Raghu's son his speech approved Glancing at Lakshman by his side, Like Indra in his beauty's pride. The Vanar monarch saw the pair Of mighty brothers standing there, And turned his rapid eye to view The forest trees that near him grew. He saw, not far from where he stood, A Sal tree towering o'er the wood. Amid the thick leaves many a bee Graced the scant blossoms of the tree, From whose dark shade a bough, that bore A load of leafy twigs, he tore, Which on the grassy ground he laid And seats for him and Rama made. Hanuman saw them sit, he sought A Sal tree's leafy bough and brought The burthen, and with meek request Entreated Lakshman, too, to rest. There on the noble mountain's brow, Strewn with the young leaves of the bough, Sat Raghu's son in placid ease Calm as the sea when sleeps the breeze. Sugriva's heart with rapture swelled, And thus, by eager love impelled, He spoke in gracious tone, that, oft Checked by his joy, was low and soft: "I, by my brother's might oppressed, By ceaseless woe and fear distressed, Mourning my consort far away, On Rishyamuka's mountain stray. Expelled by Bali's cruel hate I wander here disconsolate. Do thou to whom all sufferers flee, From his dread hand deliver me."

When to the end the tale was brought, Rose in the sage's mind the thought; "Now who throughout this earth will go, And tell it forth that all may know?" As thus he mused with anxious breast, Behold, in hermit's raiment dressed, Kusa and Lava(56) came to greet Their master and embrace his feet. The twins he saw, that princely pair Sweet-voiced, who dwelt beside him there None for the task could be more fit, For skilled were they in Holy Writ; And so the great Ramayan, fraught With lore divine, to these he taught: The lay whose verses sweet and clear Take with delight the listening ear, That tell of Sita's noble life And Ravan's fall in battle strife. Great joy to all who hear they bring, Sweet to recite and sweet to sing. For music's sevenfold notes are there, And triple measure,(57) wrought with care With melody and tone and time, And flavours(58) that enhance the rime; Heroic might has ample place, And loathing of the false and base, With anger, mirth, and terror, blent With tenderness, surprise, content. When, half the hermit's grace to gain, And half because they loved the strain, The youth within their hearts had stored The poem that his lips outpoured, Valmiki kissed them on the head, As at his feet they bowed, and said; "Recite ye this heroic song In tranquil shades where sages throng: Recite it where the good resort, In lowly home and royal court."

"By changeless law our bliss and woe From ancient worth and folly flow. What fruits soe'er we cull, the seeds Were scattered by our former deeds.(602) Why mourn another's mournful fate, And weep, thyself unfortunate? Be calm, O thou whose heart is wise, For none deserves another's sighs. Look up, with idle sorrow strive: Thy child, his heir, is yet alive. Let needful rites be duly done, Nor in thy woe forget thy son. Regard the law which all obey: They spring to life, they pass away. Begin the task that bids thee rise, And stay these tears, for thou art wise. Our lord the king is doomed to die, On whom ten million hearts rely. Kind, liberal, patient, true, and just Was he in whom they place their trust, And now he seeks the land of those Who for the right subdue their foes. Each Vanar lord with all his train, Each ranger of this wild domain, And Angad here, thy darling, see A governor and friend in thee. These twain(603) whose hearts with sorrow ache The funeral rites shall undertake, And Angad by his mother's care Be king, his father's rightful heir. Now let him pay, as laws require, His sacred duty to his sire, Nor one solemnity omit Of all that mighty kings befit. And when thy fond eye sees thine own Dear Angad on his father's throne, Then, lightened of its load of pain, Thy spirit will have rest again."

Away, away the Vanars sped Like locusts o'er the land outspread. To northern realms where rising high The King of Mountains cleaves the sky, Fierce Satabal with vast array Of Vanar warriors led the way. Far southward, as his lord decreed, Wise Hanuman, the Wind-God's seed, With Angad his swift way pursued, And Tara's warlike multitude, Strong Vinata with all his band Betook him to the eastern land, And brave Sushen in eager quest Sped swiftly to the gloomy west. Each Vanar chieftain sought with speed The quarter by his king decreed, While from his legions rose on high The shout and boast and battle cry: "We will restore the dame and beat The robber down beneath our feet. My arm alone shall win the day From Ravan met in single fray, Shall rob the robber of his life, And rescue Rama's captive wife All trembling in her fear and woe. Here, comrades, rest: no farther go: For I will vanquish hell, and she Shall by this arm again be free. The rooted mountains will I rend, The mightiest trees will break and bend, Earth to her deep foundations cleave, And make the calm sea throb and heave. A hundred leagues from steep to steep In desperate bound my feet shall leap. My steps shall tread unchecked and free, Through woods, o'er land and hill and sea, Range as they list from flood to fell, And wander through the depths of hell."

"Yea, dearer than my noblest friends Is he on whom our hope depends. For if the Wind-God's son survive, All we though dead are yet alive. But if his precious life be fled Though living still we are but dead: He is our hope and sure relief." Thus slowly spoke the aged chief: Then to his side Hanuman came, And with low reverence named his name. Cheered by the face he longed to view The wounded chieftain lived anew. "Go forth," he cried, "O strong and brave, And in their woe the Vanars save. No might but thine, supremely great, May help us in our lost estate. The trembling bears and Vanars cheer, Calm their sad hearts, dispel their fear. Save Raghu's noble sons, and heal The deep wounds of the winged steel. High o'er the waters of the sea To far Himalaya's summits flee. Kailasa there wilt thou behold, And Rishabh, with his peaks of gold. Between them see a mountain rise Whose splendour will enchant thine eyes; His sides are clothed above, below, With all the rarest herbs that grow. Upon that mountain's lofty crest Four plants, of sovereign powers possessed, Spring from the soil, and flashing there Shed radiance through the neighbouring air. One draws the shaft: one brings again The breath of life to warm the slain; One heals each wound; one gives anew To faded cheeks their wonted hue. Fly, chieftain, to that mountain's brow And bring those herbs to save us now."

High rose the universal wail That mourned the monarch's death, and, pale With crushing woe, her hair unbound, Her eyes in floods of sorrow drowned, Forth from the inner chambers came With trembling feet each royal dame, Heedless of those who bade them stay They reached the field where Ravan lay; There falling by their husband's side, "Ah, King! ah dearest lord!" they cried. Like creepers shattered by the storm They threw them on his mangled form. One to his bleeding bosom crept And lifted up her voice and wept. About his feet one mourner clung, Around his neck another hung, One on the giant's severed head, Her pearly tears in torrents shed Fast as the drops the summer shower Pours down upon the lotus flower. "Ah, he whose arm in anger reared The King of Gods and Yama feared, While panic struck their heavenly train, Lies prostrate in the battle slain. Thy haughty heart thou wouldst not bend, Nor listen to each wiser friend. Ah, had the dame, as they implored, Been yielded to her injured lord, We had not mourned this day thy fall, And happy had it been for all. Then Rama and thy friends content In blissful peace their days had spent. Thine injured brother had not fled, Nor giant chiefs and Vanars bled. Yet for these woes we will not blame. Thy fancy for the Maithil dame, Fate, ruthless Fate, whom none may bend Has urged thee to thy hapless end."

"Beloved son, four leagues away Is Panchavati bright and gay: Thronged with its deer, most fair it looks With berries, fruit, and water-brooks. There build thee with thy brother's aid A cottage in the quiet shade, And faithful to thy sire's behest, Obedient to the sentence, rest. For well, O sinless chieftain, well I know thy tale, how all befell: Stern penance and the love I bore Thy royal sire supply the lore. To me long rites and fervid zeal The wish that stirs thy heart reveal, And hence my guest I bade thee be, That this pure grove might shelter thee. So now, thereafter, thus I speak: The shades of Panchavati seek; That tranquil spot is bright and fair, And Sita will be happy there. Not far remote from here it lies, A grove to charm thy loving eyes, Godavari's pure stream is nigh: There Sita's days will sweetly fly. Pure, lovely, rich in many a charm, O hero of the mighty arm, 'Tis gay with every plant and fruit, And throngs of gay buds never mute. Thou, true to virtue's path, hast might To screen each trusting anchorite, And wilt from thy new home defend The hermits who on thee depend. Now yonder, Prince, direct thine eyes Where dense Madhuka(442) woods arise: Pierce their dark shade, and issuing forth Turn to a fig-tree on the north: Then onward up a sloping mead Flanked by a hill the way will lead: There Panchavati, ever gay With ceaseless bloom, thy steps will stay."

"Yea, for my father's promise sake I to the wood my way will take, And dwell a lonely exile there In hermit dress with matted hair. One thing alone I fain would learn, Why is the king this day so stern? Why is the scourge of foes so cold, Nor gives me greeting as of old? Now let not anger flush thy cheek: Before thy face the truth I speak, In hermit's coat with matted hair To the wild wood will I repair. How can I fail his will to do, Friend, master, grateful sovereign too? One only pang consumes my breast: That his own lips have not expressed His will, nor made his longing known That Bharat should ascend the throne. To Bharat I would yield my wife, My realm and wealth, mine own dear life, Unasked I fain would yield them all: More gladly at my father's call, More gladly when the gift may free His honour and bring joy to thee. Thus, lady, his sad heart release From the sore shame, and give him peace. But tell me, O, I pray thee, why The lord of men, with downcast eye, Lies prostrate thus, and one by one Down his pale cheek the tear-drops run. Let couriers to thy father speed On horses of the swiftest breed, And, by the mandate of the king, Thy Bharat to his presence bring. My father's words I will not stay To question, but this very day To Dandak's pathless wild will fare, For twice seven years an exile there."

He ceased: and King Sugriva tried To calm his grief, and thus replied: "'Be to thy nobler nature true, Nor let despair thy soul subdue. This cloud of causeless woe dispel, For all as yet has prospered well, And we have traced thy queen, and know The dwelling of our Rakshas foe. Arise, consult: thy task must be To cast a bridge athwart the sea, The city of our foe to reach That crowns the mountain by the beach; And when our feet that isle shall tread, Rejoice and deem thy foeman dead. The sea unbridged, his walls defy Both fiends and children of the sky, Though at the fierce battalions' head Lord Indra's self the onset led. Yea, victory is thine before The long bridge touch the farther shore, So fleet and fierce and strong are these Who limb them as their fancies please. Away with grief and sad surmise That mar the noblest enterprise, And with their weak suspicion blight The sage's plan, the hero's might. Come, this degenerate weakness spurn, And bid thy dauntless heart return, For each fair hope by grief is crossed When those we love are dead or lost. Arise, O best of those who know, Arm for the giant's overthrow. None in the triple world I see Who in the fight may equal thee; None who before thy face may stand And brave the bow that arms thy hand, Trust to these mighty Vanars: they With full success thy trust will pay, When thou shalt reach the robber's hold, And loving arms round Sita fold."

See, Lakshman, see before our cave That clear brook eastward roll its wave As though 'twere Ganga's infant rill Down streaming from the three-peaked hill. See, by the water's gentle flow Asoka, sal, and sandal grow. And every lovely tree most fair With leaf and bud and flower is there. See there, beneath the bending trees That fringe her bank, the river flees, Clothed with their beauty like a maid In all her robes and gems arrayed, While from the sedgy banks are heard The soft notes of each amorous bird. O see what lovely islets stud Like gems the bosom of the flood, And sarases and wild swans crowd About her till she laughs aloud. See, lotus blooms the brook o'erspread, Some tender blue, some dazzling red, And opening lilies white as snow Their buds in rich profusion show. There rings the joyous peacock's scream, There stands the curlew by the stream, And holy hermits love to throng Where the sweet waters speed along. Ranged on the grassy margin shine Gay sandal trees in glittering line, And all the wondrous verdure seems The offspring of creative dreams. O conquering Prince, there cannot be A lovelier place than this we see. Here sheltered on the beauteous height Our days will pass in calm delight. Nor is Kishkindha's city, gay With grove and garden, far away. Thence will the breeze of evening bring Sweet music as the minstrels sing; And, when the Vanars dance, will come The sound of tabour and of drum. Again to spouse and realm restored, Girt by his friends, the Vanar lord Great glory has acquired; and how Can he be less than happy now?"

But how to bring that wondrous boy His troubled thoughts will long employ, And hopeless to achieve the task He counsel of his lords will ask, And bid his priests and servants bring With honour saintly Rishyasring. But when they hear the monarch's speech, All these their master will beseech, With trembling hearts and looks of woe, To spare them, for they fear to go. And many a plan will they declare And crafty plots will frame, And promise fair to show him there, Unforced, with none to blame. On every word his lords shall say, The king will meditate, And on the third returning day Recall them to debate. Then this shall be the plan agreed, That damsels shall be sent Attired in holy hermits' weed, And skilled in blandishment, That they the hermit may beguile With every art and amorous wile Whose use they know so well, And by their witcheries seduce The unsuspecting young recluse To leave his father's cell. Then when the boy with willing feet Shall wander from his calm retreat And in that city stand, The troubles of the king shall end, And streams of blessed rain descend Upon the thirsty land. Thus shall the holy Rishyasring To Lomapad, the mighty king, By wedlock be allied; For Santa, fairest of the fair, In mind and grace beyond compare, Shall be his royal bride. He, at the Offering of the Steed, The flames with holy oil shall feed, And for King Dasaratha gain Sons whom his prayers have begged in vain." "I have repeated, Sire, thus far, The words of old Sanatkumar, In order as he spoke them then Amid the crowd of holy men." Then Dasaratha cried with joy, "Say how they brought the hermit boy."

Then Guha the Nishadas' king Replied to Bharat's questioning: "Of all I had I brought the best To serve my good and honoured guest Food of each varied kind I chose, And every fairest fruit that grows. Rama the hero truly brave Declined the gift I humbly gave: His Warrior part he ne'er forgot, And what I brought accepted not: "No gifts, my friend, may we accept: Our law is, Give, and must be kept." The high-souled chief, O Monarch, thus With gracious words persuaded us. Then calm and still, absorbed in thought, He drank the water Lakshman brought, And then, obedient to his vows, He fasted with his gentle spouse. So Lakshman too from food abstained, And sipped the water that remained: Then with ruled lips, devoutly staid, The three(362) their evening worship paid. Then Lakshman with unwearied care Brought heaps of sacred grass, and there With his own hands he quickly spread, For Rama's rest, a pleasant bed, And faithful Sita's too, where they Reclining each by other lay. Then Lakshman bathed their feet, and drew A little distance from the two. Here stands the tree which lent them shade, Here is the grass beneath it laid, Where Rama and his consort spent The night together ere they went. Lakshman, whose arms the foeman quell, Watched all the night as sentinel, And kept his great bow strung: His hand was gloved, his arm was braced, Two well-filled quivers at his waist, With deadly arrows, hung. I took my shafts and trusty bow, And with that tamer of the foe Stood ever wakeful near, And with my followers, bow in hand, Behind me ranged, a ready band, Kept watch o'er Indra's peer."

But dwelling in that lonely spot Left by the hermits pleased him not. "I met the faithful Bharat here, The townsmen, and my mother dear: The painful memory lingers yet, And stings me with a vain regret. And here the host of Bharat camped, And many a courser here has stamped, And elephants with ponderous feet Have trampled through the calm retreat." So forth to seek a home he hied, His spouse and Lakshman by his side. He came to Atri's pure retreat, Paid reverence to his holy feet, And from the saint such welcome won As a fond father gives his son. The noble prince with joy unfeigned As a dear guest he entertained, And cheered the glorious Lakshman too And Sita with observance due. Then Anasuya at the call Of him who sought the good of all, His blameless venerable spouse, Delighting in her holy vows, Came from her chamber to his side: To her the virtuous hermit cried: "Receive, I pray, with friendly grace This dame of Maithil monarchs' race:" To Rama next made known his wife, The devotee of saintliest life: "Ten thousand years this votaress bent On sternest rites of penance spent; She when the clouds withheld their rain, And drought ten years consumed the plain, Caused grateful roots and fruit to grow And ordered Ganga here to flow: So from their cares the saints she freed, Nor let these checks their rites impede, She wrought in Heaven's behalf, and made Ten nights of one, the Gods to aid:(400) Let holy Anasuya be An honoured mother, Prince, to thee. Let thy Videhan spouse draw near To her whom all that live revere, Stricken in years, whose loving mind Is slow to wrath and ever kind."

"Well have we slept, O holy lord, Honoured of thee by all adored: Now leave to journey forth we pray: These hermits urge us on our way. We haste to visit, wandering by, The ascetics' homes that round you lie, And roaming Dandak's mighty wood To view each saintly brotherhood, For thy permission now we sue, With these high saints to duty true, By penance taught each sense to tame,-- In lustre like the smokeless flame. Ere on our brows the sun can beat With fierce intolerable heat. Like some unworthy lord who wins His power by tyranny and sins, O saint, we fain would part." The three Bent humbly to the devotee. He raised the princes as they pressed His feet, and strained them to his breast; And then the chief of devotees Bespake them both in words like these: "Go with thy brother, Rama, go, Pursue thy path untouched by woe: Go with thy faithful Sita, she Still like a shadow follows thee. Roam Dandak wood observing well The pleasant homes where hermits dwell,-- Pure saints whose ordered souls adhere To penance rites and vows austere. There plenteous roots and berries grow, And noble trees their blossoms show, And gentle deer and birds of air In peaceful troops are gathered there. There see the full-blown lotus stud The bosom of the lucid flood, And watch the joyous mallard shake The reeds that fringe the pool and lake. See with delighted eye the rill Leap sparkling from her parent hill, And hear the woods that round thee lie Reecho to the peacock's cry. And as I bid thy brother, so, Sumitra's child, I bid thee go. Go forth, these varied beauties see, And then once more return to me."

"Dismiss the hope of conquering one So stern and strong as Raghu's son. In due control each sense he keeps With constant care that never sleeps. Whose daring heart has e'er conceived The exploit Hanuman achieved, Across the fearful sea to spring, The tributary rivers' king? O Rakshas lords, in time be wise, Nor Rama's matchless power despise. And say, what evil had the son Of Raghu to our monarch done, Who stole the dame he loved so well And keeps her in his citadel; If Khara in his foolish pride Encountered Rama, fought, and died, May not the meanest love his life And guard it in the deadly strife? The Maithil dame, O Rakshas King, Sore peril to thy realm will bring. Restore her while there yet is time, Nor let us perish for thy crime. O, let the Maithil lady go Ere the avenger bend his bow To ruin with his arrowy showers Our Lanka with her gates and towers. Let Janak's child again be free Ere the wild Vanars cross the sea, In their resistless might assail Our city and her ramparts scale. Ah, I conjure thee by the ties Of brotherhood, be just and wise. In all my thoughts thy good I seek, And thus my prudent counsel speak. Let captive Sita be restored Ere, fierce as autumn's sun, her lord Send his keen arrows from the string To drink the life-blood of our king. This fury from thy soul dismiss, The bane of duty, peace, and bliss. Seek duty's path and walk therein, And joy and endless glory win. Restore the captive, ere we feel The piercing point of Rama's steel. O spare thy city, spare the lives Of us, our friends, our sons and wives."

"Better with foes thy dwelling make, Or house thee with the venomed snake, Than live with false familiar friends Who further still thy foeman's ends. I know their treacherous mood, I know Their secret triumph at thy woe. They in their inward hearts despise The brave, the noble, and the wise, Grieve at their bliss with rancorous hate, And for their sorrows watch and wait: Scan every fault with curious eye, And each slight error magnify. Ask elephants who roam the wild How were their captive friends beguiled. "For fire," they cry, "we little care, For javelin and shaft and snare: Our foes are traitors, taught to bind The trusting creatures of their kind." Still, still, shall blessings flow from cows,(926) And Brahmans love their rigorous vows; Still woman change her restless will, And friends perfidious work us ill. What though with conquering feet I tread On every prostrate foeman's head; What though the worlds in abject fear Their mighty lord in me revere? This thought my peace of mind destroys And robs me of expected joys. The lotus of the lake receives The glittering rain that gems its leaves, But each bright drop remains apart: So is it still with heart and heart. Deceitful as an autumn cloud Which, though its thunderous voice be loud, On the dry earth no torrent sends, Such is the race of faithless friends. No riches of the bloomy spray Will tempt the wandering bee to stay That loves from flower to flower to range; And friends like thee are swift to change. Thou blot upon thy glorious line, If any giant's tongue but thine Had dared to give this base advice, He should not live to shame me twice."

Soon as he heard the high behest The driver of the chariot pressed Within the chambers of the king, His lord with praises honouring. And none of all the warders checked His entrance for their great respect Of him well known, in place so high, Still fain their king to gratify. He stood beside the royal chief, Unwitting of his deadly grief, And with sweet words began to sing The praises of his lord and king: "As, when the sun begins to rise, The sparkling sea delights our eyes, Wake, calm with gentle soul, and thus Give rapture, mighty King, to us. As Matali(279) this selfsame hour Sang lauds of old to Indra's power, When he the Titan hosts o'erthrew, So hymn I thee with praises due. The Vedas, with their kindred lore, Brahma their soul-born Lord adore, With all the doctrines of the wise, And bid him, as I bid thee, rise. As, with the moon, the Lord of Day Wakes with the splendour of his ray Prolific Earth, who neath him lies, So, mighty King, I bid thee rise. With blissful words, O Lord of men, Rise, radiant in thy form, as when The sun ascending darts his light From Meru's everlasting height. May Siva, Agni, Sun, and Moon Bestow on thee each choicest boon, Kuvera, Varuna, Indra bless Kakutstha's son with all success. Awake, the holy night is fled, The happy light abroad is spread; Awake, O best of kings, and share The glorious task that claims thy care. The holy sage Vasishtha waits, With all his Brahmans, at the gate. Give thy decree, without delay, To consecrate thy son today. As armies, by no captain led, As flocks that feed unshepherded, Such is the fortune of a state Without a king and desolate."

Each paid to Heaven the offerings due, And none was godless or untrue In all that holy band. To Brahmans, as the laws ordain, The Warrior caste were ever fain The reverence due to pay; And these the Vaisyas' peaceful crowd, Who trade and toil for gain, were proud To honour and obey; And all were by the Sudras(70) served, Who never from their duty swerved, Their proper worship all addressed To Brahman, spirits, God, and guest. Pure and unmixt their rites remained, Their race's honour ne'er was stained.(71) Cheered by his grandsons, sons, and wife, Each passed a long and happy life. Thus was that famous city held By one who all his race excelled, Blest in his gentle reign, As the whole land aforetime swayed By Manu, prince of men, obeyed Her king from main to main. And heroes kept her, strong and brave, As lions guard their mountain cave: Fierce as devouring flame they burned, And fought till death, but never turned. Horses had she of noblest breed, Like Indra's for their form and speed, From Vahli's(72) hills and Sindhu's(73) sand, Vanayu(74) and Kamboja's land.(75) Her noble elephants had strayed Through Vindhyan and Himalayan shade, Gigantic in their bulk and height, Yet gentle in their matchless might. They rivalled well the world-spread fame Of the great stock from which they came, Of Vaman, vast of size, Of Mahapadma's glorious line, Thine, Anjan, and, Airavat, thine.(76) Upholders of the skies. With those, enrolled in fourfold class, Who all their mighty kin surpass, Whom men Matangas name, And Mrigas spotted black and white, And Bhadras of unwearied might, And Mandras hard to tame.(77) Thus, worthy of the name she bore,(78) Ayodhya for a league or more Cast a bright glory round, Where Dasaratha wise and great Governed his fair ancestral state, With every virtue crowned.

Upon fair Sarju's southern shore They now had walked a league and more, When thus the sage in accents mild To Rama said: "Beloved child, This lustral water duly touch: My counsel will avail thee much. Forget not all the words I say, Nor let the occasion slip away. Lo, with two spells I thee invest, The mighty and the mightiest. O'er thee fatigue shall ne'er prevail, Nor age or change thy limbs assail. Thee powers of darkness ne'er shall smite In tranquil sleep or wild delight. No one is there in all the land Thine equal for the vigorous hand. Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell, Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell. None in the world with thee shall vie, O sinless one, in apt reply, In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact, Wisdom to plan and skill to act. This double science take, and gain Glory that shall for aye remain. Wisdom and judgment spring from each Of these fair spells whose use I teach. Hunger and thirst unknown to thee, High in the worlds thy rank shall be. For these two spells with might endued, Are the Great Father's heavenly brood, And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace, Thou glory of Kakutstha's race. Virtues which none can match are thine, Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine, And now these spells of might shall cast Fresh radiance o'er the gifts thou hast." Then Rama duly touched the wave, Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head, And took the spells the hermit gave, Whose soul on contemplation fed. From him whose might these gifts enhanced, A brighter beam of glory glanced: So shines in all his autumn blaze The Day-God of the thousand rays. The hermit's wants those youths supplied, As pupils use to holy guide. And then the night in sweet content On Sarju's pleasant bank they spent.

Lord Indra ceased. The nymph obeyed: In all her loveliest charms arrayed, With winning ways and witching smile She sought the hermit to beguile. The sweet note of that tuneful bird The saint with ravished bosom heard, And on his heart a rapture passed As on the nymph a look he cast. But when he heard the bird prolong His sweet incomparable song, And saw the nymph with winning smile, The hermit's heart perceived the wile. And straight he knew the Thousand-eyed A plot against his peace had tried. Then Kusik's son indignant laid His curse upon the heavenly maid: "Because thou wouldst my soul engage Who fight to conquer love and rage, Stand, till ten thousand years have flown, Ill-fated maid, transformed to stone. A Brahman then, in glory strong, Mighty through penance stern and long, Shall free thee from thine altered shape; Thou from my curse shalt then escape." But when the saint had cursed her so, His breast was burnt with fires of woe, Grieved that long effort to restrain His mighty wrath was all in vain. Cursed by the angry sage's power, She stood in stone that selfsame hour. Kandarpa heard the words he said, And quickly from his presence fled. His fall beneath his passion's sway Had reft the hermit's meed away. Unconquered yet his secret foes, The humbled saint refused repose: "No more shall rage my bosom till, Sealed be my lips, my tongue be still. My very breath henceforth I hold Until a thousand years are told: Victorious o'er each erring sense, I'll dry my frame with abstinence, Until by penance duly done A Brahman's rank be bought and won. For countless years, as still as death, I taste no food, I draw no breath, And as I toil my frame shall stand Unharmed by time's destroying hand."

Thus Rama spoke, in battle tried, And thus Sumitra's son replied: "Come, brother, come, and speed away: My spirit brooks no more delay." Thus spake Sumitra's son, and then Forth from the grove the king of men With his dear brother by his side To Pampa's lucid waters hied. He gazed upon the woods where grew Trees rich in flowers of every hue. From brake and dell on every side The curlew and the peacock cried, And flocks of screaming parrots made Shrill music in the bloomy shade. His eager eyes, as on he went, On many a pool and tree were bent. Inflamed with love he journeyed on Till a fair flood before him shone. He stood upon the water's side Which streams from distant hills supplied: Matanga's name that water bore: There bathed he from the shelving shore. Then, each on earnest thoughts intent, Still farther on their way they went. But Rama's heart once more gave way Beneath his grief and wild dismay. Before him lay the noble flood Adorned with many a lotus bud. On its fair banks Asoka glowed, And all bright trees their blossoms showed. Green banks that silver waves confined With lovely groves were fringed and lined. The crystal waters in their flow Showed level sands that gleamed below. There glittering fish and tortoise played, And bending trees gave pleasant shade. There creepers on the branches hung With lover-like embraces clung. There gay Gandharvas loved to meet, And Kinnars sought the calm retreat. There wandering Yakshas found delight, Snake-gods and rovers of the night. Cool were the pleasant waters, gay Each tree with creeper, flower, and spray. There flushed the lotus darkly red, Here their white glory lilies spread, Here sweet buds showed their tints of blue: So carpets gleam with many a hue. A grove of Mangoes blossomed nigh, Echoing with the peacock's cry.

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

The aged saint came home, to find The hermit boy distraught, Revolving in his troubled mind One solitary thought. "Why dost thou not, my son," he cried, "Thy due obeisance pay? Why do I see thee in the tide Of whelming thought to-day? A devotee should never wear A mien so sad and strange. Come, quickly, dearest child, declare The reason of the change." And Rishyasring, when questioned thus, Made answer in this wise: "O sire, there came to visit us Some men with lovely eyes. About my neck soft arms they wound And kept me tightly held To tender breasts so soft and round, That strangely heaved and swelled. They sing more sweetly as they dance Than e'er I heard till now, And play with many a sidelong glance And arching of the brow." "My son," said he, "thus giants roam Where holy hermits are, And wander round their peaceful home Their rites austere to mar. I charge thee, thou must never lay Thy trust in them, dear boy: They seek thee only to betray, And woo but to destroy." Thus having warned him of his foes That night at home he spent. And when the morrow's sun arose Forth to the forest went. But Rishyasring with eager pace Sped forth and hurried to the place Where he those visitants had seen Of daintly waist and charming mien. When from afar they saw the son Of Saint Vibhandak toward them run, To meet the hermit boy they hied, And hailed him with a smile, and cried: "O come, we pray, dear lord, behold Our lovely home of which we told Due honour there to thee we'll pay, And speed thee on thy homeward way." Pleased with the gracious words they said He followed where the damsels led. As with his guides his steps he bent, That Brahman high of worth, A flood of rain from heaven was sent That gladdened all the earth.

Soon as appeared the morning light Up rose the mighty anchorite, And thus to youthful Rama said, Who lay upon his leafy bed: "High fate is hers who calls thee son: Arise, 'tis break of day; Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done Due at the morning's ray."(151) At that great sage's high behest Up sprang the princely pair, To bathing rites themselves addressed, And breathed the holiest prayer. Their morning task completed, they To Visvamitra came That store of holy works, to pay The worship saints may claim. Then to the hallowed spot they went Along fair Sarju's side Where mix her waters confluent With three-pathed Ganga's tide.(152) There was a sacred hermitage Where saints devout of mind Their lives through many a lengthened age To penance had resigned. That pure abode the princes eyed With unrestrained delight, And thus unto the saint they cried, Rejoicing at the sight: "Whose is that hermitage we see? Who makes his dwelling there? Full of desire to hear are we: O Saint, the truth declare." The hermit smiling made reply To the two boys' request: "Hear, Rama, who in days gone by This calm retreat possessed. Kandarpa in apparent form, Called Kama(153) by the wise, Dared Uma's(154) new-wed lord to storm And make the God his prize. 'Gainst Sthanu's(155) self, on rites austere And vows intent,(156) they say, His bold rash hand he dared to rear, Though Sthanu cried, Away! But the God's eye with scornful glare Fell terrible on him. Dissolved the shape that was so fair And burnt up every limb. Since the great God's terrific rage Destroyed his form and frame, Kama in each succeeding age Has borne Ananga's(157) name. So, where his lovely form decayed, This land is Anga styled: Sacred to him of old this shade, And hermits undefiled. Here Scripture-talking elders sway Each sense with firm control, And penance-rites have washed away All sin from every soul.

In every knotted trunk I mark His deerskin and his coat of bark, And see the bow-armed Rama stand Like Yama with his noose in hand. I tell thee Ravan, in my fright A thousand Ramas mock my sight, This wood with every bush and bough Seems all one fearful Rama now. Throughout the grove there is no spot So lonely where I see him not. He haunts me in my dreams by night, And wakes me with the wild affright. The letter that begins his name Sends terror through my startled frame. The rapid cars whereon we ride, The rich rare jewels, once my pride, Have names(493) that strike upon mine ear With hated sound that counsels fear. His mighty strength too well I know, Nor art thou match for such a foe. Too strong were Raghus's son in fight For Namuchi or Bali's might. Then Rama to the battle dare, Or else be patient and forbear; But, wouldst thou see me live in peace, Let mention of the hero cease. The good whose holy lives were spent In deepest thought, most innocent, With all their people many a time Have perished through another's crime. So in the common ruin, I Must for another's folly die, Do all thy strength and courage can, But ne'er will I approve the plan. For he, in might supremely great, The giant world could extirpate, Since, when impetuous Khara sought The grove of Janasthan and fought For Surpanakha's sake, he died By Rama's hand in battle tried. How has he wronged thee? Soothly swear, And Rama's fault and sin declare. I warn thee, and my words are wise, I seek thy people's weal: But if this rede thou wilt despise, Nor hear my last appeal, Thou with thy kin and all thy friends In fight this day wilt die, When his great bow the hero bends, And shafts unerring fly."

He ceased: and Hanuman of all The Vanars in the council hall In wisdom first, and rank, expressed The thoughts that filled his prudent breast: "No marvel thou rememberest yet The service thou shouldst ne'er forget, How the brave prince of Raghu's seed Thy days from fear and peril freed; And Bali for thy sake o'erthrew, Whom Indra's self might scarce subdue. I doubt not Rama's anger burns For the scant love thy heart returns. For this he sends his brother, him Whose glory never waxes dim. Sunk in repose thy careless eye Marks not the seasons as they fly, Nor sees that autumn has begun With dark blooms opening to the sun. Clear is the sky: no cloudlet mars The splendour of the shining stars. The balmy air is soft and still, And clear and bright are lake and rill. Thou heedest not with blinded eyes The hour for warlike enterprise. Hence Lakshman hither comes to break Thy slothful trance and bid thee wake. Then, Monarch, with a patient ear The high-souled Rama's message hear, Which, reft of wife and realm and friends, Thus by another's mouth he sends. Thou, Vanar King, hast done amiss: And now I see no way but this: Before his envoy humbly stand And sue for peace with suppliant hand. High duty bids a courtier seek His master's weal, and freely speak. So by no thought of fear controlled My speech, O King, is free and bold, For Rama, if his anger glow, Can, with the terrors of his bow This earth with all the Gods subdue, Gandharvas,(635) and the demon crew. Unwise to stir his wrathful mood Whose favour must again be wooed. And, most of all, unwise for one Grateful like thee for service done. Go with thy son and kinsmen: bend Thy humble head and greet thy friend. And, like a fond obedient spouse, Be faithful to thy plighted vows."

He gathered next a chosen band For service in the southern land. He summoned Nila son of Fire, And, offspring of the eternal Sire, Jambavan bold and strong and tall, And Hanuman, the best of all, And many a valiant lord beside,(689) With Angad for their chief and guide. "Go forth," he cried, "with all this host Exploring to the southern coast: The thousand peaks that Vindhya shows Where every tree and creeper grows: Where Narmada's(690) sweet waters run, And serpents bask them in the sun: Where Krishnaveni's(691) currents flee, And sparkles fair Godavari.(692) Through Mekhal(693) pass and Utkal's(694) land: Go where Dasarna's(695) cities stand. Avanti(696) seek, of high renown, And Abravanti's(697) glorious town. Search every hill and brook and cave Where Dandak's woods their branches wave Ayomukh's(698) woody hill explore Whose sides are bright with richest ore, Lifting his glorious head on high From bloomy groves that round him lie. Search well his forests where the breeze Blows fragrant from the sandal trees. Then will you see Kaveri's(699) stream Whose pleasant waters glance and gleam, And to the lovely banks entice The sportive maids of Paradise. High on the top of Malaya's(700) hill, In holy musing, calm and still, Sits, radiant as the Lord of Light, Agastya,(701) noblest anchorite. Soon as that lofty-thoughted lord His high permission shall accord, Pass Tamraparni's(702) flood whose isles Are loved by basking crocodiles. The sandal woods that fringe her side Those islets and her waters hide; While, like an amorous matron, she Speeds to her own dear lord the sea. Thence hasting on your way behold The Pandyas'(703) gates of pearl and gold. Then, with your task maturely planned, On ocean's shore your feet will stand. Where, by Agastya's high decree, Mahendra,(704) planted in the sea, With tinted peaks against the tide Rises in solitary pride, And glorious in his golden glow Spurns back the waves that beat below.

Then Rama stood by Lakshman's side, And mastered by his sorrow cried: "My brother dear, the heart's distress, As days wear on, grows less and less. But my deep-seated grief, alas, Grows fiercer as the seasons pass. Though for my queen my spirit longs, And broods indignant o'er my wrongs, Still wilder is my grief to know That her young life is passed in woe. Breathe, gentle gale, O breathe where she Lies prisoned, and then breathe on me, And, though my love I may not meet, Thy kiss shall be divinely sweet. Ah, by the giant's shape appalled, On her dear lord for help she called, Still in mine ears the sad cry rings And tears my heart with poison stings. Through the long daylight and the gloom Of night wild thoughts of her consume My spirit, and my love supplies The torturing flame which never dies. Leave me, my brother; I will sleep Couched on the bosom of the deep, For the cold wave may bring me peace And bid the fire of passion cease. One only thought my stay must be, That earth, one earth, holds her and me, To hear, to know my darling lives Some life-supporting comfort gives, As streams from distant fountains run O'er meadows parching in the sun. Ah when, my foeman at my feet, Shall I my queen, my glory, meet, The blossom of her dear face raise And on her eyes enraptured gaze, Press her soft lips to mine again, And drink a balm to banish pain! Alas, alas! where lies she now, My darling of the lovely brow? On the cold earth, no help at hand, Forlorn amid the Rakshas band, King Janak's child still calls on me, Her lord and love, to set her free. But soon in glory will she rise A crescent moon in autumn skies, And those dark rovers of the night, Like scattered clouds shall turn in flight."

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

When Rama, valiant hero, stood In the vast shade of Dandak wood, His eyes on every side he bent And saw a hermit settlement, Where coats of bark were hung around, And holy grass bestrewed the ground. Bright with Brahmanic lustre glowed That circle where the saints abode: Like the hot sun in heaven it shone, Too dazzling to be looked upon. Wild creatures found a refuge where The court, well-swept, was bright and fair, And countless birds and roedeer made Their dwelling in the friendly shade. Beneath the boughs of well-loved trees Oft danced the gay Apsarases.(401) Around was many an ample shed Wherein the holy fire was fed; With sacred grass and skins of deer, Ladles and sacrificial gear, And roots and fruit, and wood to burn, And many a brimming water-urn. Tall trees their hallowed branches spread, Laden with pleasant fruit, o'erhead; And gifts which holy laws require,(402) And solemn offerings burnt with fire,(403) And Veda chants on every side That home of hermits sanctified. There many a flower its odour shed, And lotus blooms the lake o'erspred. There, clad in coats of bark and hide,-- Their food by roots and fruit supplied,-- Dwelt many an old and reverend sire Bright as the sun or Lord of Fire, All with each worldly sense subdued, A pure and saintly multitude. The Veda chants, the saints who trod The sacred ground and mused on God, Made that delightful grove appear Like Brahma's own most glorious sphere. As Raghu's splendid son surveyed That hermit home and tranquil shade, He loosed his mighty bow-string, then Drew nearer to the holy men. With keen celestial sight endued Those mighty saints the chieftain viewed, With joy to meet the prince they came, And gentle Sita dear to fame. They looked on virtuous Rama, fair As Soma(404) in the evening air, And Lakshman by his brother's side, And Sita long in duty tried, And with glad blessings every sage Received them in the hermitage.

With sundered bow and shattered shield Headless they sank upon the field, As the tall trees, that felt the blast Of Garud's wing, to earth were cast. The giants left unslaughtered there Where filled with terror and despair, And to their leader Khara fled Faint, wounded, and discomfited. These fiery Dushan strove to cheer, And poised his bow to calm their fear; Then fierce as He who rules the dead, When wroth, on angered Rama sped. By Dushan cheered, the demons cast Their dread aside and rallied fast With Sals, rocks, palm-trees in their hands With nooses, maces, pikes, and brands, Again upon the godlike man The mighty fiends infuriate ran, These casting rocks like hail, and these A whelming shower of leafy trees. Wild, wondrous fight, the eye to scare, And raise on end each shuddering hair, As with the fiends who loved to rove By night heroic Rama strove! The giants in their fury plied Rama with darts on every side. Then, by the gathering demons pressed From north and south and east and west, By showers of deadly darts assailed From every quarter fiercely hailed, Girt by the foes who swarmed around, He raised a mighty shout whose sound Struck terror. On the giant crew His great Gandharva(468) arrow flew. A thousand mortal shafts were rained From the orbed bow the hero strained, Till east and west and south and north Were filled with arrows volleyed forth. They heard the fearful shout: they saw His mighty hand the bowstring draw, Yet could no wounded giant's eye See the swift storm of arrows fly. Still firm the warrior stood and cast His deadly missiles thick and fast. Dark grew the air with arrowy hail Which hid the sun as with a veil. Fiends wounded, falling, fallen, slain, All in a moment, spread the plain, And thousands scarce alive were left Mangled, and gashed, and torn, and cleft. Dire was the sight, the plain o'erspread With trophies of the mangled dead.

Thou on a heap of flowers shalt rest And eat the meal his hands have dressed, There shalt thou lie on Pampa's brink, And Lakshman's hand shall give thee drink, Filling a lotus leaf with cool Pure water from the crystal pool, To which the opening blooms have lent The riches of divinest scent. Beside thee at the close of day Will Lakshman through the woodland stray, And show thee where the monkeys sleep In caves beneath the mountain steep. Loud-voiced as bulls they forth will burst And seek the flood, oppressed by thirst; Then rest a while, their wants supplied, Their well-fed bands on Pampa's side. Thou roving there at eve shalt see Rich clusters hang on shrub and tree, And Pampa flushed with roseate glow, And at the view forget thy woe. There shalt thou mark with strange delight Each loveliest flower that blooms by night, While lily buds that shrink from day Their tender loveliness display. In that far wild no hand but thine Those peerless flowers in wreaths shall twine: Immortal in their changeless pride, Ne'er fade those blooms and ne'er are dried. There erst on holy thoughts intent Their days Matanga's pupils spent. Once for their master food they sought, And store of fruit and berries brought. Then as they laboured through the dell From limb and brow the heat-drops fell: Thence sprang and bloomed those wondrous trees: Such holy power have devotees. Thus, from the hermits' heat-drops sprung, Their growth is ever fresh and young. There Savari is dwelling yet, Who served each vanished anchoret. Beneath the shade of holy boughs That ancient votaress keeps her vows. Her happy eyes on thee will fall, O godlike prince, adored by all, And she, whose life is pure from sin, A blissful seat in heaven will win. But cross, O son of Raghu, o'er, And stand on Pampa's western shore. A tranquil hermitage that lies Deep in the woods will meet thine eyes.

No wandering elephants invade The stillness of that holy shade, But checked by saint Matanga's power They spare each consecrated bower. Through many an age those trees have stood World-famous as Matanga's wood Still, Raghu's son, pursue thy way: Through shades where birds are vocal stray, Fair as the blessed wood where rove Immortal Gods, or Nandan's grove. Near Pampa eastward, full in sight, Stands Rishyamuka's wood-crowned height. 'Tis hard to climb that towering steep Where serpents unmolested sleep. The free and bounteous, formed of old By Brahma of superior mould, Who sink when day is done to rest Reclining on that mountain crest,-- What wealth or joy in dreams they view, Awaking find the vision true. But if a villain stained with crime That holy hill presume to climb, The giants in their fury sweep From the hill top the wretch asleep. There loud and long is heard the roar Of elephants on Pampa's shore, Who near Matanga's dwelling stray And in those waters bathe and play. A while they revel by the flood, Their temples stained with streams like blood, Then wander far away dispersed, Dark as huge clouds before they burst. But ere they part they drink their fill Of bright pure water from the rill, Delightful to the touch, where meet Scents of all flowers divinely sweet, Then speeding from the river side Deep in the sheltering thicket hide. Then bears and tigers shalt thou view Whose soft skins show the sapphire's hue, And silvan deer that wander nigh Shall harmless from thy presence fly. High in that mountain's wooded side Is a fair cavern deep and wide, Yet hard to enter: piles of rock The portals of the cavern block.(521) Fast by the eastern door a pool Gleams with broad waters fresh and cool, Where stores of roots and fruit abound, And thick trees shade the grassy ground. This mountain cave the virtuous-souled Sugriva, and his Vanars hold, And oft the mighty chieftain seeks The summits of those towering peaks."

"I doubt not, Prince, thy peerless might, Armed with these shafts so keen and bright, Like all-destroying fires of fate, The worlds could burn and devastate. But lend thou first thy mind and ear Of Bali's power and might to hear. How bold, how firm, in battle tried, Is Bali's heart; and then decide. From east to west, from south to north On restless errand hurrying forth, From farthest sea to sea he flies Before the sun has lit the skies. A mountain top he oft will seek, Tear from its root a towering peak, Hurl it aloft, as 'twere a ball, And catch it ere to earth it fall. And many a tree that long has stood In health and vigour in the wood, His single arm to earth will throw, The marvels of his might to show. Shaped like a bull, a monster bore The name of Dundubhi of yore: He matched in size a mountain height, A thousand elephants in might. By pride of wondrous gifts impelled, And strength he deemed unparalleled, To Ocean, lord of stream and brook, Athirst for war, his way he took. He reached the king of rolling waves Whose gems are piled in sunless caves, And threw his challenge to the sea; "Come forth, O King, and fight with me." He spoke, and from his ocean bed The righteous(567) monarch heaved his head, And gave, sedate, his calm reply To him whom fate impelled to die: "Not mine, not mine the power," he cried, "To cope with thee in battle tried; But listen to my voice, and seek The worthier foe of whom I speak. The Lord of Hills, where hermits live And love the home his forests give, Whose child is Sankar's darling queen,(568) The King of Snows is he I mean. Deep caves has he, and dark boughs shade The torrent and the wild cascade. From him expect the fierce delight Which heroes feel in equal fight."

To sainted Narad, prince of those Whose lore in words of wisdom flows. Whose constant care and chief delight Were Scripture and ascetic rite, The good Valmiki, first and best Of hermit saints, these words addressed:(9) "In all this world, I pray thee, who Is virtuous, heroic, true? Firm in his vows, of grateful mind, To every creature good and kind? Bounteous, and holy, just, and wise, Alone most fair to all men's eyes? Devoid of envy, firm, and sage, Whose tranquil soul ne'er yields to rage? Whom, when his warrior wrath is high, Do Gods embattled fear and fly? Whose noble might and gentle skill The triple world can guard from ill? Who is the best of princes, he Who loves his people's good to see? The store of bliss, the living mine Where brightest joys and virtues shine? Queen Fortune's(10) best and dearest friend, Whose steps her choicest gifts attend? Who may with Sun and Moon compare, With Indra,(11) Vishnu,(12) Fire, and Air? Grant, Saint divine,(13) the boon I ask, For thee, I ween, an easy task, To whom the power is given to know If such a man breathe here below." Then Narad, clear before whose eye The present, past, and future lie,(14) Made ready answer: "Hermit, where Are graces found so high and rare? Yet listen, and my tongue shall tell In whom alone these virtues dwell. From old Ikshvaku's(15) line he came, Known to the world by Rama's name: With soul subdued, a chief of might, In Scripture versed, in glory bright, His steps in virtue's paths are bent, Obedient, pure, and eloquent. In each emprise he wins success, And dying foes his power confess. Tall and broad-shouldered, strong of limb, Fortune has set her mark on him. Graced with a conch-shell's triple line, His throat displays the auspicious sign.(16) High destiny is clear impressed On massive jaw and ample chest, His mighty shafts he truly aims, And foemen in the battle tames. Deep in the muscle, scarcely shown, Embedded lies his collar-bone.

There reigned a king of name revered, To country and to town endeared, Great Dasaratha, good and sage, Well read in Scripture's holy page: Upon his kingdom's weal intent, Mighty and brave and provident; The pride of old Ikshvaku's seed For lofty thought and righteous deed. Peer of the saints, for virtues famed, For foes subdued and passions tamed: A rival in his wealth untold Of Indra and the Lord of Gold. Like Manu first of kings, he reigned, And worthily his state maintained. For firm and just and ever true Love, duty, gain he kept in view, And ruled his city rich and free, Like Indra's Amaravati. And worthy of so fair a place There dwelt a just and happy race With troops of children blest. Each man contented sought no more, Nor longed with envy for the store By richer friends possessed. For poverty was there unknown, And each man counted as his own Kine, steeds, and gold, and grain. All dressed in raiment bright and clean, And every townsman might be seen With earrings, wreath, or chain. None deigned to feed on broken fare, And none was false or stingy there. A piece of gold, the smallest pay, Was earned by labour for a day. On every arm were bracelets worn, And none was faithless or forsworn, A braggart or unkind. None lived upon another's wealth, None pined with dread or broken health, Or dark disease of mind. High-souled were all. The slanderous word, The boastful lie, were never heard. Each man was constant to his vows, And lived devoted to his spouse. No other love his fancy knew, And she was tender, kind, and true. Her dames were fair of form and face, With charm of wit and gentle grace, With modest raiment simply neat, And winning manners soft and sweet. The twice-born sages, whose delight Was Scripture's page and holy rite, Their calm and settled course pursued, Nor sought the menial multitude. In many a Scripture each was versed, And each the flame of worship nursed, And gave with lavish hand.

Two sages, holy saints, had he, His ministers and priests to be: Vasishtha, faithful to advise, And Vamadeva, Scripture-wise. Eight other lords around him stood, All skilled to counsel, wise and good: Jayanta, Vijay, Dhrishti bold In fight, affairs of war controlled: Siddharth and Arthasadhak true Watched o'er expense and revenue, And Dharmapal and wise Asok Of right and law and justice spoke. With these the sage Sumantra, skilled To urge the car, high station filled. All these in knowledge duly trained Each passion and each sense restrained: With modest manners, nobly bred Each plan and nod and look they read, Upon their neighbours' good intent, Most active and benevolent: As sit the Vasus(79) round their king, They sate around him counselling. They ne'er in virtue's loftier pride Another's lowly gifts decried. In fair and seemly garb arrayed, No weak uncertain plans they made. Well skilled in business, fair and just, They gained the people's love and trust, And thus without oppression stored The swelling treasury of their lord. Bound in sweet friendship each to each, They spoke kind thoughts in gentle speech. They looked alike with equal eye On every caste, on low and high. Devoted to their king, they sought, Ere his tongue spoke, to learn his thought, And knew, as each occasion rose, To hide their counsel or disclose. In foreign lands or in their own Whatever passed, to them was known. By secret spies they timely knew What men were doing or would do. Skilled in the grounds of war and peace They saw the monarch's state increase, Watching his weal with conquering eye That never let occasion by, While nature lent her aid to bless Their labours with unbought success. Never for anger, lust, or gain, Would they their lips with falsehood stain. Inclined to mercy they could scan The weakness and the strength of man. They fairly judged both high and low, And ne'er would wrong a guiltless foe; Yet if a fault were proved, each one Would punish e'en his own dear son.

Firm in the earth they stood at last, Where cunning craftsmen fixed them fast; And there unshaken each remained, Octagonal and smoothly planed. Then ribbons over all were hung, And flowers and scent around them flung. Thus decked they cast a glory forth Like the great saints who star the north.(102) The sacrificial altar then Was raised by skilful twice-born men, In shape and figure to behold An eagle with his wings of gold, With twice nine pits and formed three-fold Each for some special God, beside The pillars were the victims tied; The birds that roam the wood, the air, The water, and the land were there, And snakes and things of reptile birth, And healing herbs that spring from earth: As texts prescribe, in Scripture found, Three hundred victims there were bound. The steed devoted to the host Of Gods, the gem they honour most, Was duly sprinkled. Then the Queen Kausalya, with delighted mien, With reverent steps around him paced, And with sweet wreaths the victim graced; Then with three swords in order due She smote the steed with joy, and slew. That night the queen, a son to gain, With calm and steady heart was fain By the dead charger's side to stay From evening till the break of day. Then came three priests, their care to lead The other queens to touch the steed, Upon Kausalya to attend, Their company and aid to lend. As by the horse she still reclined, With happy mien and cheerful mind, With Rishyasring the twice-born came And praised and blessed the royal dame. The priest who well his duty knew, And every sense could well subdue, From out the bony chambers freed And boiled the marrow of the steed. Above the steam the monarch bent, And, as he smelt the fragrant scent, In time and order drove afar All error that his hopes could mar. Then sixteen priests together came And cast into the sacred flame The severed members of the horse, Made ready all in ordered course.

Then Rama bathed in order due, His mind from worldly thoughts withdrew, And with his large-eyed wife besought Narayan, as a votary ought. Upon his head the brimming cup Of holy oil he lifted up, Then placed within the kindled fire The offering to that heavenly Sire, And as he sipped the remnant prayed To Him for blessing and for aid. Then with still lips and tranquil mind With his Videhan he reclined, In Vishnu's chapel, on a bed Where holy grass was duly spread, While still the prince's every thought The God supreme, Narayan, sought. One watch remained the night to close When Rama from his couch arose, And bade the men and maids adorn His palace for the solemn morn. He heard the bards and heralds raise Auspicious strains of joy and praise; And breathed devout, with voice restrained, The hymn for morning rites ordained; Then, with his head in reverence bowed, Praised Madhu's conquering foe aloud, And, in pure linen robes arrayed, The priests to raise their voices prayed. Obedient to the summons they Proclaimed to all the festal day. The Brahmans' voices, deep and sweet, Resounded through the crowded street, And echoed through Ayodhya went By many a loud-toned instrument. Then all the people joyed to hear That Rama with his consort dear Had fasted till the morning light In preparation for the rite. Swiftly the joyful tidings through Ayodhya's crowded city flew, And soon as dawn appeared, each man To decorate the town began. In all the temples bright and fair As white clouds towering in the air, In streets, and where the cross-ways met, Where holy fig-trees had been set, In open square, in sacred shade, Where merchants' shops their wealth displayed, On all the mansions of the great, And householders of wealth and state, Where'er the people loved to meet, Where'er a tree adorned the street, Gay banners floated to the wind, And ribands round the staves were twined. Then clear the singers' voices rang, As, charming mind and ear, they sang.

Calm and unmoved the prince explained His duty's claim and purpose high, The mother life and sense regained, Looked on her son and made reply: "If reverence be thy father's due, The same by right and love is mine: Go not, my charge I thus renew, Nor leave me here in woe to pine, What were such lonely life to me, Rites to the shades, or deathless lot? More dear, my son, one hour with thee Than all the world where thou art not." As bursts to view, when brands blaze high, Some elephant concealed by night, So, when he heard his mother's cry, Burnt Rama's grief with fiercer might. Thus to the queen, half senseless still, And Lakshman, burnt with heart-felt pain, True to the right, with steadfast will, His duteous speech he spoke again: "Brother, I know thy loving mind, Thy valour and thy truth I know, But now to claims of duty blind Thou and my mother swell my woe. The fruits of deeds in human life Make love, gain, duty, manifest, Dear when they meet as some fond wife With her sweet babes upon her breast. But man to duty first should turn Whene'er the three are not combined: For those who heed but gain we spurn, And those to pleasure all resigned. Shall then the virtuous disobey Hosts of an aged king and sire, Though feverous joy that father sway, Or senseless love or causeless ire? I have no power, commanded thus, To slight his promise and decree: The honoured sire of both of us, My mother's lord and life is he. Shall she, while yet the holy king Is living, on the right intent,-- Shall she, like some poor widowed thing, Go forth with me to banishment? Now, mother, speed thy parting son, And let thy blessing soothe my pain, That I may turn, mine exile done, Like King Yayati, home again. Fair glory and the fruit she gives, For lust of sway I ne'er will slight: What, for the span a mortal lives. Were rule of faith without the right?"

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.

Wild with the rage he could not calm, Sumantra, grinding palm on palm, His head in quick impatience shook, And sighed with woe he could not brook. He gnashed his teeth, his eyes were red, From his changed face the colour fled. In rage and grief that knew no law, The temper of the king he saw. With his word-arrows swift and keen He shook the bosom of the queen. With scorn, as though its lightning stroke Would blast her body, thus he spoke: "Thou, who, of no dread sin afraid, Hast Dasaratha's self betrayed, Lord of the world, whose might sustains Each thing that moves or fixed remains, What direr crime is left thee now? Death to thy lord and house art thou, Whose cruel deeds the king distress, Mahendra's peer in mightiness, Firm as the mountain's rooted steep, Enduring as the Ocean's deep. Despise not Dasaratha, he Is a kind lord and friend to thee. A loving wife in worth outruns The mother of ten million sons. Kings, when their sires have passed away, Succeed by birthright to the sway. Ikshvaku's son still rules the state, Yet thou this rule wouldst violate. Yea, let thy son, Kaikeyi, reign, Let Bharat rule his sire's domain. Thy will, O Queen, shall none oppose: We all will go where Rama goes. No Brahman, scorning thee, will rest Within the realm thou governest, But all will fly indignant hence: So great thy trespass and offence. I marvel, when thy crime I see, Earth yawns not quick to swallow thee; And that the Brahman saints prepare No burning scourge thy soul to scare, With cries of shame to smite thee, bent Upon our Rama's banishment. The Mango tree with axes fell, And tend instead the Neem tree well, Still watered with all care the tree Will never sweet and pleasant be. Thy mother's faults to thee descend, And with thy borrowed nature blend. True is the ancient saw: the Neem Can ne'er distil a honeyed stream. Taught by the tale of long ago Thy mother's hateful sin we know.

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."

In kingless realms we ne'er behold Young maidens decked with gems and gold, Flock to the gardens blithe and gay To spend their evening hours in play. No lover in the flying car Rides with his love to woods afar. In kingless lands no wealthy swain Who keeps the herd and reaps the grain, Lies sleeping, blest with ample store, Securely near his open door. Upon the royal roads we see No tusked elephant roaming free, Of three-score years, whose head and neck Sweet tinkling bells of silver deck. We hear no more the glad applause When his strong bow each rival draws, No clap of hands, no eager cries That cheer each martial exercise. In kingless realms no merchant bands Who travel forth to distant lands, With precious wares their wagons load, And fear no danger on the road. No sage secure in self-control, Brooding on God with mind and soul, In lonely wanderings finds his home Where'er at eve his feet may roam. In kingless realms no man is sure He holds his life and wealth secure. In kingless lands no warriors smite The foeman's host in glorious fight. In kingless lands the wise no more, Well trained in Scripture's holy lore, In shady groves and gardens meet To argue in their calm retreat. No longer, in religious fear, Do they who pious vows revere, Bring dainty cates and wreaths of flowers As offerings to the heavenly powers. No longer, bright as trees in spring, Shine forth the children of the king Resplendent in the people's eyes With aloe wood and sandal dyes. A brook where water once has been, A grove where grass no more is green, Kine with no herdsman's guiding hand-- So wretched is a kingless land. The car its waving banner rears, Banner of fire the smoke appears: Our king, the banner of our pride, A God with Gods is glorified. In kingless lands no law is known, And none may call his wealth his own, Each preys on each from hour to hour, As fish the weaker fish devour.

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

While Raghu's son undaunted gazed, The waters of the deep were raised, And, still uplifted more and more, Leapt in wild flood upon the shore. Still Rama looked upon the tide And kept his post unterrified. Then from the seething flood upreared Majestic Ocean's form appeared, As rising from his eastern height Springs through the sky the Lord of Light. Attendant on their monarch came Sea serpents with their eyes aflame. Like lazulite mid burning gold His form was wondrous to behold. Bright with each fairest precious stone A chain about his neck was thrown. Calm shone his lotus eyes beneath The blossoms of his heavenly wreath, And many a pearl and sea-born gem Flashed in the monarch's diadem. There Ganga, tributary queen, And Sindhu(934) by his lord, were seen, And every stream and brook renowned In ancient story girt him round. Then, as the waters rose and swelled, The king with suppliant hands upheld, His glorious head to Rama bent And thus addressed him reverent: "Air, ether, fire, earth, water, true To nature's will, their course pursue; And I, as ancient laws ordain, Unfordable must still remain. Yet, Raghu's son, my counsel hear: I ne'er for love or hope or fear Will pile my waters in a heap And leave a pathway through the deep. Still shall my care for thee provide An easy passage o'er the tide, And like a city's paven street Shall be the road beneath thy feet." He ceased: and Rama spoke again: "This spell is ne'er invoked in vain. Where shall the magic shaft, to spend The fury of its might, descend?" "Shoot," Ocean cried, "thine arrow forth With all its fury to the north, Where sacred Drumakulya lies, Whose glory with thy glory vies. There dwells a wild Abhira(935) race, As vile in act as foul of face, Fierce Dasyus(936) who delight in ill, And drink my tributary rill. My soul no longer may endure Their neighbourhood and touch impure. At these, O son of Raghu, aim Thine arrow with the quenchless flame."

The Sons of Heaven, in wild alarm, Soft flatteries tried his rage to charm. Then Bhava, Lord whom Gods adore, Grew kind and friendly as before, And every torn and mangled limb Was safe and sound restored by him. Thenceforth this bow, the gem of bows, That freed the God of Gods from foes, Stored by our great forefathers lay A treasure and a pride for aye. Once, as it chanced, I ploughed the ground, When sudden, 'neath the share was found An infant springing from the earth, Named Sita from her secret birth.(246) In strength and grace the maiden grew, My cherished daughter, fair to view. I vowed her, of no mortal birth, Meet prize for noblest hero's worth. In strength and grace the maiden grew, And many a monarch came to woo. To all the princely suitors I Gave, mighty Saint, the same reply: "I give not thus my daughter, she Prize of heroic worth shall be.(247) To Mithila the suitors pressed Their power and might to manifest. To all who came with hearts aglow I offered Siva's wondrous bow. Not one of all the royal band Could raise or take the bow in hand. The suitors' puny might I spurned, And back the feeble princes turned. Enraged thereat, the warriors met, With force combined my town beset. Stung to the heart with scorn and shame, With war and threats they madly came, Besieged my peaceful walls, and long To Mithila did grievous wrong. There, wasting all, a year they lay, And brought my treasures to decay, Filling my soul, O Hermit chief, With bitter woe and hopeless grief. At last by long-wrought penance I Won favour with the Gods on high, Who with my labours well content A four-fold host to aid me sent. Then swift the baffled heroes fled To all the winds discomfited-- Wrong-doers, with their lords and host, And all their valour's idle boast. This heavenly bow, exceeding bright, These youths shall see, O Anchorite. Then if young Rama's hand can string The bow that baffled lord and king, To him I give, as I have sworn, My Sita, not of woman born."

As thus the aged sire complained The mighty chief no answer deigned. To Rama only thus he cried: "Two bows, the Heavenly Artist's pride, Celestial, peerless, vast, and strong, By all the worlds were honoured long. One to the Three-eyed God(256) was given, By glory to the conflict driven, Thus armed fierce Tripura he slew: And then by thee 'twas burst in two. The second bow, which few may brave, The highest Gods to Vishnu gave. This bow I hold; before it fall The foeman's fenced tower and wall. Then prayed the Gods the Sire Most High By some unerring proof to try Were praise for might Lord Vishnu's due, Or his whose Neck is stained with Blue.(257) The mighty Sire their wishes knew, And he whose lips are ever true Caused the two Gods to meet as foes. Then fierce the rage of battle rose: Bristled in dread each starting hair As Siva strove with Vishnu there. But Vishnu raised his voice amain. And Siva's bowstring twanged in vain; Its master of the Three bright Eyes Stood fixt in fury and surprise. Then all the dwellers in the sky, Minstrel, and saint, and God drew nigh, And prayed them that the strife might cease, And the great rivals met in peace. 'Twas seen how Siva's bow has failed Unnerved, when Vishnu's might assailed, And Gods and heavenly sages thence To Vishnu gave preeminence. Then glorious Siva in his rage Gave it to Devarat the sage Who ruled Videha's fertile land, To pass it down from hand to hand. But this my bow, whose shafts smite down The foeman's fenced tower and town, To great Richika Vishnu lent To be a pledge and ornament, Then Jamadagni, Brahman dread, My sire, the bow inherited. But Arjun stooped to treachery vile And slew my noble sire by guile, Whose penance awful strength had gained, Whose hand the God-given bow retained. I heard indignant how he fell By mournful fate, too sad to tell. My vengeful fury since that time Scourges all Warriors for the crime. As generations spring to life I war them down in endless strife.

To all the princes, young and brave, His soul with fond affection clave; Around his loving heart they clung Like arms from his own body sprung.(259) But best and noblest of the four, Good as the God whom all adore, Lord of all virtues, undefiled, His darling was his eldest child. For he was beautiful and strong, From envy free, the foe of wrong, With all his father's virtues blest, And peerless in the world confessed. With placid soul he softly spoke: No harsh reply could taunts provoke. He ever loved the good and sage Revered for virtue and for age, And when his martial tasks were o'er Sate listening to their peaceful lore. Wise, modest, pure, he honoured eld, His lips from lying tales withheld; Due reverence to the Brahmans gave, And ruled each passion like a slave. Most tender, prompt at duty's call, Loved by all men he loved them all. Proud of the duties of his race, With spirit meet for Warrior's place. He strove to win by glorious deed, Throned with the Gods, a priceless meed. With him in speech and quick reply Vrihaspati might hardly vie, But never would his accents flow For evil or for empty show. In art and science duly trained, His student vow he well maintained; He learnt the lore for princes fit, The Vedas and their Holy Writ, And with his well-drawn bow at last His mighty father's fame surpassed. Of birth exalted, truthful, just, With vigorous hand, with noble trust, Well taught by aged twice-born men Who gain and right could clearly ken, Full well the claims and bounds he knew Of duty, gain, and pleasure too: Of memory keen, of ready tact, In civil business prompt to act. Reserved, his features ne'er disclosed What counsel in his heart reposed. All idle rage and mirth controlled, He knew the times to give and hold, Firm in his faith, of steadfast will, He sought no wrong, he spoke no ill: Not rashly swift, not idly slow, His faults and others' keen to know. Each merit, by his subtle sense; He matched with proper recompense.

So Rama kept unshaken still His noble heart with iron will. To his dear brother next he turned, Whose glaring eyes with fury burned, Indignant, panting like a snake, And thus again his counsel spake: "Thine anger and thy grief restrain, And firm in duty's path remain. Dear brother, lay thy scorn aside, And be the right thy joy and pride. Thy ready zeal and thoughtful care To aid what rites should grace the heir,-- These 'tis another's now to ask; Come, gird thee for thy noble task, That Bharat's throning rites may he Graced with the things prepared for me. And with thy gentle care provide That her fond heart, now sorely tried With fear and longing for my sake, With doubt and dread may never ache. To know that thoughts of coming ill One hour that tender bosom fill With agony and dark despair Is grief too great for me to bear. I cannot, brother, call to mind One wilful fault or undesigned, When I have pained in anything My mothers or my sire the king. The right my father keeps in view, In promise, word, and action true; Let him then all his fear dismiss, Nor dread the loss of future bliss. He fears his truth herein will fail: Hence bitter thoughts his heart assail. He trembles lest the rites proceed, And at his pangs my heart should bleed. So now this earnest wish is mine, The consecration to resign, And from this city turn away To the wild wood with no delay. My banishment to-day will free Kaikeyi from her cares, that she, At last contented and elate, May Bharat's throning celebrate. Then will the lady's trouble cease, Then will her heart have joy and peace, When wandering in the wood I wear Deerskin, and bark, and matted hair. Nor shall by me his heart be grieved Whose choice approved, whose mind conceived This counsel which I follow. No, Forth to the forest will I go. 'Tis Fate, Sumitras son, confess, That sends me to the wilderness. 'Tis Fate alone that gives away To other hands the royal sway.

Then spake Vasishtha who perceived That Rama's soul was wroth and grieved: "Well knows the sage Javali all The changes that the world befall; And but to lead thee to revoke Thy purpose were the words he spoke. Lord of the world, now hear from me How first this world began to be. First water was, and naught beside; There earth was formed that stretches wide. Then with the Gods from out the same The Self-existent Brahma came. Then Brahma(390) in a boar's disguise Bade from the deep this earth arise; Then, with his sons of tranquil soul, He made the world and framed the whole. From subtlest ether Brahma rose: No end, no loss, no change he knows. A son had he, Marichi styled, And Kasyap was Marichi's child. From him Vivasvat sprang: from him Manu, whose fame shall ne'er be dim. Manu, who life to mortals gave, Begot Ikshvaku good and brave: First of Ayodhya's kings was he, Pride of her famous dynasty. From him the glorious Kukshi sprang, Whose fame through all the regions rang. Rival of Kukshi's ancient fame, His heir the great Vikukshi came. His son was Vana, lord of might, His Anaranya, strong in fight. No famine marred his blissful reign, No drought destroyed the kindly grain; Amid the sons of virtue chief, His happy realm ne'er held a thief, His son was Prithu, glorious name, From him the wise Trisanku came: Embodied to the skies he went For love of truth preeminent. He left a son renowned afar, Known by the name of Dhundhumar. His son succeeding bore the name Of Yuvanasva dear to fame. He passed away. Him followed then His son Mandhata, king of men. His son was blest in high emprise, Susandhi, fortunate and wise. Two noble sons had he, to wit Dhruvasandhi and Prasenajit. Bharat was Dhruvasandhi's son: His glorious arm the conquest won, Against his son King Asit, rose In fierce array his royal foes, Haihayas, Talajanghas styled, And Sasivindhus fierce and wild. Long time he strove, but forced to yield Fled from his kingdom and the field.

Thou with thy brother, bow in hand, Beneath those ancient trees wilt stand, And thy keen arrows will not spare Wood-rovers who will meet thee there. For as the fuel food supplies That bids the dormant flame arise, Thus when the warrior grasps his bow He feels his breast with ardour glow. Deep in a holy grove, of yore, Where bird and beast from strife forbore, Suchi beneath the sheltering boughs, A truthful hermit kept his vows. Then Indra, Sachi's heavenly lord, Armed like a warrior with a sword, Came to his tranquil home to spoil The hermit of his holy toil, And left the glorious weapon there Entrusted to the hermit's care, A pledge for him to keep, whose mind To fervent zeal was all resigned. He took the brand: with utmost heed He kept it for the warrior's need: To keep his trust he fondly strove When roaming in the neighbouring grove: Whene'er for roots and fruit he strayed Still by his side he bore the blade: Still on his sacred charge intent, He took his treasure when he went. As day by day that brand he wore, The hermit, rich in merit's store From penance rites each thought withdrew, And fierce and wild his spirit grew. With heedless soul he spurned the right, And found in cruel deeds delight. So, living with the sword, he fell, A ruined hermit, down to hell. This tale applies to those who deal Too closely with the warrior's steel: The steel to warriors is the same As fuel to the smouldering flame. Sincere affection prompts my speech: I honour where I fain would teach. Mayst thou, thus armed with shaft and bow, So dire a longing never know As, when no hatred prompts the fray, These giants of the wood to slay: For he who kills without offence Shall win but little glory thence. The bow the warrior joys to bend Is lent him for a nobler end, That he may save and succour those Who watch in woods when pressed by foes. What, matched with woods, is bow or steel? What, warrior's arm with hermit's zeal?

"Wilt thou absorbed in pleasure, still Pursue unchecked thy selfish will: Nor turn thy heedless eyes to see The coming fate which threatens thee? The king who days and hours employs In base pursuit of vulgar joys Must in his people's sight be vile As fire that smokes on funeral pile. He who when duty calls him spares No time for thought of royal cares, Must with his realm and people all Involved in fatal ruin fall. As elephants in terror shrink From the false river's miry brink, Thus subjects from a monarch flee Whose face their eyes may seldom see, Who spends the hours for toil ordained In evil courses unrestrained. He who neglects to guard and hold His kingdom by himself controlled, Sinks nameless like a hill whose head Is buried in the ocean's bed. Thy foes are calm and strong and wise, Fiends, Gods, and warriors of the skies,-- How, heedless, wicked, weak, and vain, Wilt thou thy kingly state maintain? Thou, lord of giants, void of sense, Slave of each changing influence, Heedless of all that makes a king, Destruction on thy head wilt bring. O conquering chief, the prince, who boasts, Of treasury and rule and hosts, By others led, though lord of all, Is meaner than the lowest thrall. For this are monarchs said to be Long-sighted, having power to see Things far away by faithful eyes Of messengers and loyal spies. But aid from such thou wilt not seek: Thy counsellors are blind and weak, Or thou from these hadst surely known Thy legions and thy realm o'erthrown. Know, twice seven thousand, fierce in might, Are slain by Rama in the fight, And they, the giant host who led, Khara and Dushan, both are dead. Know, Rama with his conquering arm Has freed the saints from dread of harm, Has smitten Janasthan and made Asylum safe in Dandak's shade. Enslaved and dull, of blinded sight, Intoxicate with vain delight, Thou closest still thy heedless eyes To dangers in thy realm that rise. A king besotted, mean, unkind, Of niggard hand and slavish mind.