Ramayana on Pride

"By Bali's conquering might oppressed, Of power and kingship dispossessed, Loaded with taunts of scorn and hate I left my realm and royal state. He tore away my consort: she Was dearer than my life to me, And many a friend to me and mine In hopeless chains was doomed to pine. With wicked thoughts, unsated still, Me whom he wrongs he yearns to kill; And spies of Vanar race, who tried To slay me, by this hand have died. Moved by this constant doubt and fear I saw thee, Prince, and came not near. When woe and peril gather round A foe in every form is found. Save Hanuman, O Raghu's son, And these, no friend is left me, none. Through their kind aid, a faithful band Who guard their lord from hostile hand, Rest when their chieftain rests and bend Their steps where'er he lists to wend,-- Through them alone, in toil and pain, My wretched life I still sustain. Enough, for thou hast heard in brief The story of my pain and grief. His mighty strength all regions know, My brother, but my deadly foe. Ah, if the proud oppressor fell, His death would all my woe dispel. Yea, on my cruel conqueror's fall My joy depends, my life, my all. This were the end and sure relief, O Rama, of my tale of grief. Fair be his lot or dark with woe, No comfort like a friend I know."

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."

"I Rama's wife, on that sad day, By Ravan's arm was borne away, Seized, while I sat and feared no ill, By him who wears each form at will. A helpless captive, left forlorn To demons' threats and taunts and scorn, Here for my lord I weep and sigh, And worn with woe would gladly die. For what is life to me afar From Rama of the mighty car? The robber in his fruitless sin Would hope his captive's love to win. My meaner foot shall never touch The demon whom I loathe so much. The senseless fool! he knows me not, Nor the proud soul his love would blot. Yea, limb from limb will I be rent, But never to his prayer consent; Be burnt and perish in the fire, But never meet his base desire. My lord was grateful, true and wise, And looked on woe with pitying eyes; But now, recoiling from the strife He pities not his captive wife. Alone in Janasthan he slew The thousands of the Rakshas crew. His arm was strong, his heart was brave, Why comes he not to free and save? Why blame my lord in vain surmise? He knows not where his lady lies. O, if he knew, o'er land and sea His feet were swift to set me free; This Lanka, girdled by the deep, Would fall consumed, a shapeless heap, And from each ruined home would rise A Rakshas widow's groans and cries."

Then in sweet accents low and mild The Vanar spoke to Janak's child: "A noble king, by sin unstained, The mighty Dasaratha reigned. Lord of the warrior's car and steed, The pride of old Ikshvaku's seed. A faithful friend, a blameless king, Protector of each living thing. A glorious monarch, strong to save, Blest with the bliss he freely gave. His son, the best of all who know The science of the bended bow, Was moon-bright Rama, brave and strong, Who loved the right and loathed the wrong, Who ne'er from kingly duty swerved, Loved by the lands his might preserved. His feet the path of law pursued; His arm rebellious foes subdued. His sire's command the prince obeyed And, banished, sought the forest shade, Where with his wife and brother he Wandered a saintly devotee. There as he roamed the wilds he slew The bravest of the Rakshas crew. The giant king the prince beguiled, And stole his consort, Janak's child. Then Rama roamed the country round, And a firm friend, Sugriva, found, Lord of the Vanar race, expelled From his own realm which Bali held, He conquered Bali and restored The kingdom to the rightful lord. Then by Sugriva's high decree The Vanar legions searched for thee, Sampati's counsel bade me leap A hundred leagues across the deep. And now my happy eyes have seen At last the long-sought Maithil queen. Such was the form, the eye, the grace Of her whom Rama bade me trace."

He spoke, and vanished: Rama raised His eyes with reverence meet, and praised The glorious Day-God full in view: Then armed him for the fight anew. Urged onward by his charioteer The giant's foaming steeds came near, And furious was the battle's din Where each resolved to die or win. The Rakshas host and Vanar bands Stood with their weapons in their hands, And watched in terror and dismay The fortune of the awful fray. The giant chief with rage inflamed His darts at Rama's pennon aimed; But when they touched the chariot made By heavenly hands their force was stayed. Then Rama's breast with fury swelled; He strained the mighty bow he held, And straight at Ravan's banner flew An arrow as the string he drew-- A deadly arrow swift of flight, Like some huge snake ablaze with light, Whose fury none might e'er repel,-- And, split in twain, the standard fell. At Rama's steeds sharp arrows, hot With flames of fire, the giant shot. Unmoved the heavenly steeds sustained The furious shower the warrior rained, As though soft lotus tendrils smote Each haughty crest and glossy coat. Then volleyed swift by magic art, Tree, mountain peak and spear and dart, Trident and pike and club and mace Flew hurtling straight at Rama's face. But Rama with his steeds and car Escaped the storm which fell afar Where the strange missiles, as they rushed To earth, a thousand Vanars crushed.

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."

The giant lord the chariot viewed, And humbly thus his speech renewed: "Behold, O King, the car prepared: Now be thy further will declared." He ceased: and Rama spake once more: "These hosts who thronged to Lanka's shore Their faith and might have nobly shown, And set thee on the giants' throne. Let pearls and gems and gold repay The feats of many a desperate day, That all may go triumphant hence Proud of their noble recompense." Vibhishan, ready at his call, With gold and gems enriched them all. Then Rama clomb the glorious car That shone like day's resplendent star. There in his lap he held his dame Vailing her eyes in modest shame. Beside him Lakshman took his stand, Whose mighty bow still armed his hand, "O King Vibhishan," Rama cried, "O Vanar chiefs, so long allied, My comrades till the foemen fell, List, for I speak a long farewell. The task, in doubt and fear begun, With your good aid is nobly done. Leave Lanka's shore, your steps retrace, Brave warriors of the Vanar race. Thou, King Sugriva, true, through all, To friendship's bond and duty's call, Seek far Kishkindha with thy train And o'er thy realm in glory reign. Farewell, Vibhishan, Lanka's throne Won by our arms is now thine own, Thou, mighty lord, hast nought to dread From heavenly Gods by Indra led. My last farewell, 0 King, receive, For Lanka's isle this hour I leave."

"Yea, O my lord," the monarch said, And took the vase upon his head, The gift of Gods, of fine gold wrought, With store of heavenly liquor fraught. He honoured, filled with transport new, That wondrous being, fair to view, As round the envoy of the God With reverential steps he trod.(110) His errand done, that form of light Arose and vanished from the sight. High rapture filled the monarch's soul, Possessed of that celestial bowl, As when a man by want distressed With unexpected wealth is blest. And rays of transport seemed to fall Illuminating bower and hall, As when the autumn moon rides high, And floods with lovely light the sky. Quick to the ladies' bower he sped, And thus to Queen Kausalya said: "This genial nectar take and quaff," He spoke, and gave the lady half. Part of the nectar that remained Sumitra from his hand obtained. He gave, to make her fruitful too, Kaikeyi half the residue. A portion yet remaining there, He paused awhile to think. Then gave Sumitra, with her share. The remnant of the drink. Thus on each queen of those fair three A part the king bestowed, And with sweet hope a child to see Their yearning bosoms glowed. The heavenly bowl the king supplied Their longing souls relieved, And soon, with rapture and with pride, Each royal dame conceived. He gazed upon each lady's face, And triumphed as he gazed, As Indra in his royal place By Gods and spirits praised.

"Yet more remain, brave chiefs who stake Their noble lives for Rama's sake. See, glorious, golden-coated, one Who glisters like the morning sun, Whom thousands of his race surround, 'Tis Hara for his strength renowned. Next comes a mighty chieftain, he Whose legions, armed with rock and tree, Press on, in numbers passing tale, The ramparts of our town to scale. O Ravan, see the king advance Terrific with his fiery glance, Girt by the bravest of his train, Majestic as the God of Rain, Parjanya, when his host of clouds About the king, embattled, crowds: On Rikshavan's high mountain nursed, In Narmada(940) he slakes his thirst, Dhumra, proud ursine chief, who leads Wild warriors whom the forest breeds. His brother, next in strength and age, In Jambavan the famous sage. Of yore his might and skill he lent To him who rules the firmament, And Indra's liberal boons repaid The chieftain for the timely aid. There like a gloomy cloud that flies Borne by the tempest through the skies, Pramathi stands: he roamed of yore The forest wilds on Ganga's shore, Where elephants were struck with dread And trembling at his coming fled. There on his foes he loved to sate The old hereditary hate.(941) Look, Gaja and Gavaksha show Their lust of battle with the foe. See Nala burning for the fray, And Nila chafing at delay. Behind the eager captains press Wild hosts in numbers numberless, And each for Rama's sake would fall Or force his way through Lanka's wall."

Then Ravan's warrior chariot(994) wrought With gold and rich inlay was brought. Mid tinkling bells and weapons' clang The monarch on the chariot sprang, Which, decked with gems of every hue, Eight steeds of noble lineage drew. Mid roars of drum and shell rang out From countless throats a joyful shout. As, girt with hosts in warlike pride, Through Lanka's streets the tyrant hied. Still, louder than the roar of drums, Went up the cry "He comes, he comes, Our ever conquering lord who trod Beneath his feet both fiend and God." On to the gate the warriors swept Where Raghu's sons their station kept. When Ravan's car the portal passed The sun in heaven was overcast. Earth rocked and reeled from side to side And birds with boding voices cried. Against the standard of the king A vulture flapped his horrid wing. Big gouts of blood before him dropped, His trembling steeds in terror stopped. The hue of death was on his cheek, And scarce his flattering tongue could speak, When, terrible with flash and flame, Through murky air a meteor came. Still by the hand of Death impelled His onward way the giant held. The Vanars in the field afar Heard the loud thunder of his car. And turned with warriors' fierce delight To meet the giant in the fight. He came: his clanging bow he drew And myriads of the Vanars slew. Some through the side and heart he cleft, Some headless on the plain were left. Some struggling groaned with mangled thighs, Or broken arms or blinded eyes.

Then Matali to Rama cried: "Let other arms the day decide. Why wilt thou strive with useless toil And see his might thy efforts foil? Launch at the foe thy dart whose fire Was kindled by the Almighty Sire." He ceased: and Raghu's son obeyed: Upon his string the hero laid An arrow, like a snake that hissed. Whose fiery flight had never missed: The arrow Saint Agastya gave And blessed the chieftain's life to save That dart the Eternal Father made The Monarch of the Gods to aid; By Brahma's self on him bestowed When forth to fight Lord Indra rode. 'Twas feathered with the rushing wind; The glowing sun and fire combined To the keen point their splendour lent; The shaft, ethereal element, By Meru's hill and Mandar, pride Of mountains, had its weight supplied. He laid it on the twisted cord, He turned the point at Lanka's lord, And swift the limb-dividing dart Pierced the huge chest and cleft the heart, And dead he fell upon the plain Like Vritra by the Thunderer slain. The Rakahas host when Ravan fell Sent forth a wild terrific yell, Then turned and fled, all hope resigned, Through Lanka's gates, nor looked behind. His voice each joyous Vanar raised, And Rama, conquering Rama, praised. Soft from celestial minstrels came The sound of music and acclaim. Soft, fresh, and cool, a rising breeze Brought odours from the heavenly trees, And ravishing the sight and smell A wondrous rain of blossoms fell: And voices breathed round Raghu's son: "Champion of Gods, well done, well done."

When thus the sage without a peer Had closed that story strange to hear, Rama again the saint addressed To set one lingering doubt at rest: "O holy man, 'tis said by all That spirits' strength is weak and small: How can she match, of power so slight, A thousand elephants in might?" And Visvamitra thus replied To Raghu's son the glorified: "Listen, and I will tell thee how She gained the strength that arms her now. A mighty spirit lived of yore; Suketu was the name he bore. Childless was he, and free from crime In rites austere he passed his time. The mighty Sire was pleased to show His favour, and a child bestow. Tadaka named, most fair to see, A pearl among the maids was she, And matched, for such was Brahma's dower, A thousand elephants in power. Nor would the Eternal Sire, although The spirit longed, a son bestow That maid in beauty's youthful pride Was given to Sunda for a bride. Her son, Maricha was his name, A giant, through a curse, became. She, widowed, dared with him molest Agastya,(163) of all saints the best. Inflamed with hunger's wildest rage, Roaring she rushed upon the sage. When the great hermit saw her near, On speeding in her fierce career, He thus pronounced Maricha's doom: "A giant's form and shape assume." And then, by mighty anger swayed, On Tadaka this curse he laid: "Thy present form and semblance quit, And wear a shape thy mood to fit; Changed form and feature by my ban, A fearful thing that feeds on man."

At length when many a year had fled, Up floated, on her lotus bed, A maiden fair and tender-eyed, In the young flush of beauty's pride. She shone with pearl and golden sheen, And seals of glory stamped her queen, On each round arm glowed many a gem, On her smooth brows, a diadem. Rolling in waves beneath her crown The glory of her hair flowed down, Pearls on her neck of price untold, The lady shone like burnisht gold. Queen of the Gods, she leapt to land, A lotus in her perfect hand, And fondly, of the lotus-sprung, To lotus-bearing Vishnu clung. Her Gods above and men below As Beauty's Queen and Fortune know.(210) Gods, Titans, and the minstrel train Still churned and wrought the troubled main. At length the prize so madly sought, The Amrit, to their sight was brought. For the rich spoil, 'twixt these and those A fratricidal war arose, And, host 'gainst host in battle, set, Aditi's sons and Diti's met. United, with the giants' aid, Their fierce attack the Titans made, And wildly raged for many a day That universe-astounding fray. When wearied arms were faint to strike, And ruin threatened all alike, Vishnu, with art's illusive aid, The Amrit from their sight conveyed. That Best of Beings smote his foes Who dared his deathless arm oppose: Yea, Vishnu, all-pervading God, Beneath his feet the Titans trod Aditi's race, the sons of light, slew Diti's brood in cruel fight. Then town-destroying(211) Indra gained His empire, and in glory reigned O'er the three worlds with bard and sage Rejoicing in his heritage.

Filled by his speech with joy and pride, Rama to Lakshman thus replied: "Go then, my brother, bid adieu To all thy friends and retinue. And those two bows of fearful might, Celestial, which, at that famed rite, Lord Varun gave to Janak, king Of fair Vedeha with thee bring, With heavenly coats of sword-proof mail, Quivers, whose arrows never fail, And golden-hilted swords so keen, The rivals of the sun in sheen. Tended with care these arms are all Preserved in my preceptor's hall. With speed, O Lakshman, go, produce, And bring them hither for our use." So on a woodland life intent, To see his faithful friends he went, And brought the heavenly arms which lay By Rama's teacher stored away. And Raghu's son to Rama showed Those wondrous arms which gleamed and glowed, Well kept, adorned with many a wreath Of flowers on case, and hilt, and sheath. The prudent Rama at the sight Addressed his brother with delight: "Well art thou come, my brother dear, For much I longed to see thee here. For with thine aid, before I go, I would my gold and wealth bestow Upon the Brahmans sage, who school Their lives by stern devotion's rule. And for all those who ever dwell Within my house and serve me well, Devoted servants, true and good, Will I provide a livelihood. Quick, go and summon to this place The good Vasishtha's son, Suyajna, of the Brahman race The first and holiest one. To all the Brahmans wise and good Will I due reverence pay, Then to the solitary wood With thee will take my way."

"I heard," she said, "thy bitter cry, Heard Ravan's speech and thy reply, For, hiding in the thicket near, No word or tone escaped mine ear. When Ravan hastened forth I bent My steps to follow as he went, And learnt the secret cause that drove The monarch from the Asoka grove. Believe me, Queen, thou needst not weep For Rama slaughtered in his sleep. Thy lion lord of men defies By day attack, by night surprise. Can even giants slay with ease Vast hosts who fight with brandished trees, For whom, with eye that never sleeps, His constant watch thy Rama keeps? Lord of the mighty arm and chest, Of earthly warriors first and best, Whose fame through all the regions rings, Proud scion of a hundred kings; Who guards his life and loves to lend His saving succour to a friend: Whose bow no hand but his can strain,-- Thy lord, thy Rama is not slain. Obedient to his master's will, A great magician, trained in ill, With deftest art surpassing thought That marvellous illusion wrought. Let rising hope thy grief dispel: Look up and smile, for all is well, And gentle Lakshmi, Fortune's Queen, Regards thee with a favouring mien. Thy Rama with his Vanar train Has thrown a bridge athwart the main, Has led his countless legions o'er, And ranged them on this southern shore. These eyes have seen the hero stand Girt by his hosts on Lanka's strand, And breathless spies each moment bring Fresh tidings to the giant king; And every peer and lord of state Is called to counsel and debate."

He ceased: the chieftain bowed his head And forth with gathered troops he sped. Cars, camels, steeds were well arrayed, And coloured banners o'er them played. Rings decked his arms: about his waist The life-protecting mail was braced, And on the chieftain's forehead set Glittered his cap and coronet. Borne on a bannered car that glowed With golden sheen the warrior rode, And footmen marched with spear and sword And bow and mace behind their lord. In pomp and pride of warlike state They sallied from the southern gate, But saw, as on their way they sped, Dread signs around and overhead. For there were meteors falling fast, Though not a cloud its shadow cast; And each ill-omened bird and beast, Forboding death, the fear increased, While many a giant slipped and reeled, Falling before he reached the field. They met in mortal strife engaged, And long and fierce the battle raged. Spears, swords uplifted, gleamed and flashed, And many a chief to earth was dashed. A ceaseless storm of arrows rained, And limbs were pierced and blood-distained. Terrific was the sound that filled The air, and every heart was chilled, As hurtling o'er the giants flew The rocks and trees which Vanars threw. Fierce as a hungry lion when Unwary deer approach his den, Angad, his eyes with fury red, Waving a tree above his head, Rushed with wild charge which none could stay Where stood the giants' dense array. Like tall trees levelled by the blast Before him fell the giants fast, And earth that streamed with blood was strown With warriors, steeds, and cars o'erthrown.

Forth sprang Kambojas, as she lowed; Bright as the sun their faces glowed, Forth from her udder Barbars poured,-- Soldiers who brandished spear and sword,-- And Yavans with their shafts and darts, And Sakas from her hinder parts. And every pore upon her fell, And every hair-producing cell, With Mlechchhas(229) and Kiratas(230) teemed, And forth with them Haritas streamed. And Visvamitra's mighty force, Car, elephant, and foot, and horse, Fell in a moment's time, subdued By that tremendous multitude. The monarch's hundred sons, whose eyes Beheld the rout in wild surprise, Armed with all weapons, mad with rage, Rushed fiercely on the holy sage. One cry he raised, one glance he shot, And all fell scorched upon the spot: Burnt by the sage to ashes, they With horse, and foot, and chariot, lay. The monarch mourned, with shame and pain, His army lost, his children slain, Like Ocean when his roar is hushed, Or some great snake whose fangs are crushed: Or as in swift eclipse the Sun Dark with the doom he cannot shun: Or a poor bird with mangled wing-- So, reft of sons and host, the king No longer, by ambition fired, The pride of war his breast inspired. He gave his empire to his son-- Of all he had, the only one: And bade him rule as kings are taught Then straight a hermit-grove he sought. Far to Himalaya's side he fled, Which bards and Nagas visited, And, Mahadeva's(231) grace to earn, He gave his life to penance stern. A lengthened season thus passed by, When Siva's self, the Lord most High, Whose banner shows the pictured bull,(232) Appeared, the God most bountiful:

When thus Kalindi,(248) fairest dame, With reverent supplication came, To her the holy sage replied: "Born with the poison from thy side, O happy Queen, shall spring ere long An infant fortunate and strong. Then weep no more, and check thy sighs, Sweet lady of the lotus eyes." The queen, who loved her perished lord, For meet reply, the saint adored, And, of her husband long bereaved, She bore a son by him conceived. Because her rival mixed the bane To render her conception vain, And fruit unripened to destroy, Sagar(249) she called her darling boy. To Sagar Asamanj was heir: Bright Ansuman his consort bare. Ansuman's son, Dilipa famed, Begot a son Bhagirath named. From him the great Kakutstha rose: From him came Raghu, feared by foes, Of him sprang Purushadak bold, Fierce hero of gigantic mould: Kalmashapada's name he bore, Because his feet were spotted o'er.(250) From him came Sankan, and from him Sudarsan, fair in face and limb. From beautiful Sudarsan came Prince Agnivarna, bright as flame. His son was Sighraga, for speed Unmatched; and Maru was his seed. Prasusruka was Maru's child; His son was Ambarisha styled. Nahush was Ambarisha's heir, The mighty lord of regions fair: Nahush begot Yayati: he, Nabhag of happy destiny. Son of Nabhag was Aja: his, The glorious Dasaratha is, Whose noble children boast to be Rama and Lakshman, whom we see. Thus do those kings of purest race Their lineage from Ikshvaku trace: Their hero lives the right maintained, Their lips with falsehood ne'er were stained. In Rama's and in Lakshman's name Thy daughters as their wives I claim, So shall in equal bands be tied Each peerless youth with peerless bride."

Around the sacred gear he bent His circling footsteps reverent, And, firm to vows he would not break, Thus to the gathered people spake: "The eldest son is ever king: So rules the house from which we spring: Nor should ye, Lords, like men unwise, With words like these to wrong advise. Rama is eldest born, and he The ruler of the land shall be. Now to the woods will I repair, Five years and nine to lodge me there. Assemble straight a mighty force, Cars, elephants, and foot and horse, For I will follow on his track And bring my eldest brother back. Whate'er the rites of throning need Placed on a car the way shall lead: The sacred vessels I will take To the wild wood for Rama's sake. I o'er the lion prince's head The sanctifying balm will shed, And bring him, as the fire they bring Forth from the shrine, with triumphing. Nor will I let my mother's greed In this her cherished aim succeed: In pathless wilds will I remain, And Rama here as king shall reign. To make the rough ways smooth and clear Send workman out and pioneer: Let skilful men attend beside Our way through pathless spots to guide." As thus the royal Bharat spake, Ordaining all for Rama's sake, The audience gave with one accord Auspicious answer to their lord: "Be royal Fortune aye benign To thee for this good speech of thine, Who wishest still thine elder's hand To rule with kingly sway the land." Their glorious speech, their favouring cries Made his proud bosom swell: And from the prince's noble eyes The tears of rapture fell.(356)

"Videhan Queen, be sure of this,-- And at the thought thy fear dismiss,-- Thy husband's mightier power defies All Gods and angels of the skies, Gandharvas, and the sons of light, Serpents, and rovers of the night. I tell thee, of the sons of earth, Of Gods who boast celestial birth, Of beasts and birds and giant hosts, Of demigods, Gandharvas, ghosts, Of awful fiends, O thou most fair, There lives not one whose heart would dare To meet thy Rama in the fight, Like Indra's self unmatched in might. Such idle words thou must not say Thy Rama lives whom none may slay. I will not, cannot leave thee here In the wild wood till he be near. The mightiest strength can ne'er withstand His eager force, his vigorous hand. No, not the triple world allied With all the immortal Gods beside. Dismiss thy fear, again take heart, Let all thy doubt and woe depart. Thy lord, be sure, will soon be here And bring thee back that best of deer. Not his, not his that mournful cry, Nor haply came it from the sky. Some giant's art was busy there And framed a castle based on air. A precious pledge art thou, consigned To me by him of noblest mind, Nor can I fairest dame, forsake The pledge which Rama bade me take. Upon our heads, O Queen, we drew The giants' hate when Rama slew Their chieftain Khara, and the shade Of Janasthan in ruin laid. Through all this mighty wood they rove With varied cries from grove to grove On rapine bent they wander here: But O, dismiss thy causeless fear."

Pure, with glad cheer and joyful breast, Of those mysterious arms possessed, Rama, now passing on his way, Thus to the saint began to say: "Lord of these mighty weapons, I Can scarce be harmed by Gods on high; Now, best of saints, I long to gain The powers that can these arms restrain." Thus spoke the prince. The sage austere, True to his vows, from evil clear, Called forth the names of those great charms Whose powers restrain the deadly arms. "Receive thou True and Truly famed, And Bold and Fleet: the weapons named Warder and Progress, swift of pace, Averted-head and Drooping-face; The Seen, and that which Secret flies; The weapon of the thousand eyes; Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced, Star-gazer and the Layer-waste: The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot, The pair that wake and slumber not: The Fiendish, that which shakes amain, The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain: The Guardian, and the Close-allied, The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side: O Raghu's son receive all these, Bright ones that wear what forms they please; Krisasva's mystic sons are they, And worthy thou their might to sway." With joy the pride of Raghu's race Received the hermit's proffered grace, Mysterious arms, to check and stay, Or smite the foeman in the fray. Then, all with heavenly forms endued, Nigh came the wondrous multitude. Celestial in their bright attire Some shone like coals of burning fire; Some were like clouds of dusky smoke; And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke: "Thy thralls, O Rama, here we stand: Command, we pray, thy faithful band" "Depart," he cried, "where each may list, But when I call you to assist, Be present to my mind with speed, And aid me in the hour of need."

The people, when the morn shone fair, Arose to find no Rama there. Then fear and numbing grief subdued The senses of the multitude. The woe-born tears were running fast As all around their eyes they cast, And sadly looked, but found no trace Of Rama, searching every place. Bereft of Rama good and wise, With drooping cheer and weeping eyes, Each woe-distracted sage gave vent To sorrow in his wild lament: "Woe worth the sleep that stole our sense With its beguiling influence, That now we look in vain for him Of the broad chest and stalwart limb! How could the strong-armed hero, thus Deceiving all, abandon us? His people so devoted see, Yet to the woods, a hermit, flee? How can he, wont our hearts to cheer, As a fond sire his children dear,-- How can the pride of Raghu's race Fly from us to some desert place! Here let us all for death prepare, Or on the last great journey fare;(320) Of Rama our dear lord bereft, What profit in our lives is left? Huge trunks of trees around us lie, With roots and branches sere and dry, Come let us set these logs on fire And throw our bodies on the pyre. What shall we speak? How can we say We followed Rama on his way, The mighty chief whose arm is strong, Who sweetly speaks, who thinks no wrong? Ayodhya's town with sorrow dumb, Without our lord will see us come, And hopeless misery will strike Elder, and child, and dame alike. Forth with that peerless chief we came, Whose mighty heart is aye the same: How, reft of him we love, shall we Returning dare that town to see?"

He spoke, and ere his speech was done, His chariot glittering like the sun, Yoked and announced, by Dushan's care, With dappled steeds was ready there. High as a peak from Meru rent It burned with golden ornament: The pole of lazulite, of gold Were the bright wheels whereon it rolled. With gold and moonstone blazoned o'er, Fish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore; Auspicious birds embossed thereon, And stars in costly emblem shone. O'er flashing swords his banner hung, And sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung. That mighty host with sword and shield And oar was ready for the field: And Khara saw, and Dushan cried, "Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride." Then banners waved, and shield and sword Flashed as the host obeyed its lord. From Janasthan they sallied out With eager speed, and din, and shout, Armed with the mace for close attacks, The bill, the spear, the battle-axe, Steel quoit and club that flashed afar, Huge bow and sword and scimitar, The dart to pierce, the bolt to strike, The murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike. So forth from Janasthan, intent On Khara's will, the monsters went. He saw their awful march: not far Behind the host he drove his car. Ware of his master's will, to speed The driver urged each gold-decked steed. Then forth the warrior's coursers sprang, And with tumultuous murmur rang Each distant quarter of the sky And realms that intermediate lie. High and more high within his breast His pride triumphant rose, While terrible as Death he pressed Onward to slay his foes, "More swiftly yet," as on they fled, He cried in thundering tones Loud as a cloud that overhead Hails down a flood of stones.

"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."

They slept secure: the sun arose And called the chieftains from repose. Before the wondering Vanars, gay With grove and garden, Lanka lay, Where golden buds the Champak showed, And bright with bloom Asoka glowed, And palm and Sal and many a tree With leaf and flower were fair to see. They looked on wood and lawn and glade, On emerald grass and dusky shade, Where creepers filled the air with scent, And luscious fruit the branches bent, Where bees inebriate loved to throng, And each sweet bird was loud in song. The wondering Vanars passed the bound That circled that enchanting ground, And as they came a sweet breeze through The odorous alleys softly blew. Some Vanars, at their king's behest, Onward to bannered Lanka pressed, While, startled by the strangers' tread, The birds and deer before them fled. Earth trembled at each step they took, And Lanka at their shouting shook. Bright rose before their wondering eyes Trikuta's peak that kissed the skies, And, clothed with flowers of every hue, Afar its golden radiance threw. Most fair to see the mountain's head A hundred leagues in length was spread. There Ravan's town, securely placed, The summit of Trikuta graced. O'er leagues of land she stretched in pride, A hundred long and twenty wide. They saw a lofty wall enfold The city, built of blocks of gold, They saw the beams of morning fall On dome and fane within the wall, Bright with the shine that mansion gives Where Vishnu in his glory lives. White-crested like the Lord of Snows Before them Ravan's palace rose. High on a thousand pillars raised With gold and precious stone it blazed, Guarded by giant warders, crown And ornament of Lanka's town.

Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir Preceded by the General Sire, Met in the air and gazed below On Rama with that wondrous bow. Nymph, minstrel, angel, all were there, Snake-God, and spirit of the air, Giant, and bard, and gryphon, met, Their eyes upon the marvel set. In senseless hush the world was chained While Rama's hand the bow retained, And Jamadagni's son amazed And powerless on the hero gazed. Then when his swelling heart had shrunk, And his proud strength in torpor sunk, Scarce his voice ventured, low and weak, To Rama lotus-eyed, to speak: "When long ago I gave away The whole broad land to Kasyap's sway He charged me never to remain Within the limits of his reign. Obedient to my guide's behest On earth by night I never rest. My choice is made, I will not dim Mine honour and be false to him. So, son of Raghu, leave me still The power to wander where I will, And swifter than the thought my flight Shall place me on Mahendra's height. My mansions of eternal joy, By penance won, thou mayst destroy, My path to these thy shaft may stay. Now to the work! No more delay! I know thee Lord of Gods; I know Thy changeless might laid Madhu low. All other hands would surely fail To bend this bow. All hail! all hail! See! all the Gods have left the skies To bend on thee their eager eyes, With whose achievements none compete, Whose arm in war no God can meet. No shame is mine, I ween, for thou, Lord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow. Now, pious Rama, 'tis thy part To shoot afar that glorious dart: I, when the fatal shaft is shot, Will seek that hill and tarry not."

In suppliant tone the Vanar prayed, And Raghu's son his answer made: "By Lakshman's hand this flowery twine Was wound about thee for a sign. The wreath of giant creeper throws About thy form its brillant glows, As though about the sun were set The bright stars for a coronet. One shaft of mine this day, dear friend, Thy sorrow and thy fear shall end. And, from the bowstring freed, shall be Giver of freedom, King, to thee. Then come, Sugriva, quickly show, Where'er he lie, thy bitter foe; And let my glance the wretch descry Whose deeds, a brother's name belie. Yea, soon in dust and blood o'erthrown Shall Bali fall and gasp and groan. Once let this eye the foeman see, Then, if he live to turn and flee, Despise my puny strength, and shame With foul opprobrium Rama's name. Hast thou not seen his hand, O King, Through seven tall trees one arrow wing? Still in that strength securely trust, And deem thy foeman in the dust. In all my days, though surely tried By grief and woe, I ne'er have lied; And still by duty's law restrained Will ne'er with falsehood's charge be stained. Cast doubt away: the oath I sware Its kindly fruit shall quickly bear, As smiles the land with golden grain By mercy of the Lord of rain. Oh, warrior to the gate I defy Thy foe with shout and battle-cry, Till Bali with his chain of gold Come speeding from his royal hold. Proud hearts, with warlike fire aglow, Brook not the challenge of a foe: Each on his power and might relies, And most before his ladies eyes. King Bali loves the fray too well To linger in his citadel, And, when he hears thy battle-shout, All wild for war will hasten out."

"As to the saint I thus complained My bitter tears fell unrestrained. He pondered for a while, then broke The silence, and thus calmly spoke: "Forth from thy sides again shall spring, O royal bird, each withered wing, And all thine ancient power and might Return to thee with strength of sight. A noble deed has been foretold In prophecy pronounced of old: Nor dark to me are future things, Seen by the light which penance brings. A glorious king shall rise and reign, The pride of old Ikshvaku's strain. A good and valiant prince, his heir, Shall the dear name of Rama bear. With his brave brother Lakshman he An exile in the woods shall be, Where Ravan, whom no God may slay,(777) Shall steal his darling wife away. In vain the captive will be wooed With proffered love and dainty food, She will not hear, she will not taste: But, lest her beauty wane and waste, Lord Indra's self will come to her With heavenly food, and minister. Then envoys of the Vanar race By Rama sent will seek this place. To them, O roamer of the air, The lady's fate shalt thou declare. Thou must not move--so maimed thou art Thou canst not from this spot depart. Await the day and moment due, And thy burnt wings will sprout anew. I might this day the boon bestow And bid again thy pinions grow, But wait until thy saving deed The nations from their fear have freed. Then for this glorious aid of thine The princes of Ikshvaku's line, And Gods above and saints below Eternal gratitude shall owe. Fain would mine aged eyes behold That pair of whom my lips have told, Yet wearied here I must not stay, But leave my frame and pass away."

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.

So through the crowded inner door Sumantra, skilled in ancient lore, On to the private chambers pressed Which stood apart from all the rest. There youthful warriors, true and bold, Whose ears were ringed with polished gold, All armed with trusty bows and darts, Watched with devoted eyes and hearts. And hoary men, a faithful train, Whose aged hands held staves of cane, The ladies' guard, apparelled fair In red attire, were stationed there. Soon as they saw Sumantra nigh, Each longed his lord to gratify, And from his seat beside the door Up sprang each ancient servitor. Then to the warders quickly cried The skilled Sumantra, void of pride: "Tell Rama that the charioteer Sumantra waits for audience here." The ancient men with one accord Seeking the pleasure of their lord, Passing with speed the chamber door To Rama's ear the message bore. Forthwith the prince with duteous heed Called in the messenger with speed, For 'twas his sire's command, he knew, That sent him for the interview. Like Lord Kuvera, well arrayed, He pressed a couch of gold, Wherefrom a covering of brocade Hung down in many a fold. Oil and the sandal's fragrant dust Had tinged his body o'er Dark as the stream the spearman's thrust Drains from the wounded boar. Him Sita watched with tender care, A chouri in her hand, As Chitra,(281) ever fond in fair, Beside the Moon will stand. Him glorious with unborrowed light, A liberal lord, of sunlike might, Sumantra hailed in words like these, Well skilled in gentle courtesies, As, with joined hands in reverence raised, Upon the beauteous prince he gazed: "Happy Kausalya! Blest is she, The Mother of a son like thee. Now rise, O Rama, speed away. Go to thy sire without delay: For he and Queen Kaikeyi seek An interview with thee to speak."

Thus by the mighty Sire addressed They all obeyed his high behest, And thus begot in countless swarms Brave sons disguised in sylvan forms. Each God, each sage became a sire, Each minstrel of the heavenly quire,(112) Each faun,(113) of children strong and good Whose feet should roam the hill and wood. Snakes, bards,(114) and spirits,(115) serpents bold Had sons too numerous to be told. Bali, the woodland hosts who led, High as Mahendra's(116) lofty head, Was Indra's child. That noblest fire, The Sun, was great Sugriva's sire, Tara, the mighty monkey, he Was offspring of Vrihaspati:(117) Tara the matchless chieftain, boast For wisdom of the Vanar host. Of Gandhamadan brave and bold The father was the Lord of Gold. Nala the mighty, dear to fame, Of skilful Visvakarma(118) came. From Agni,(119) Nila bright as flame, Who in his splendour, might, and worth, Surpassed the sire who gave him birth. The heavenly Asvins,(120) swift and fair, Were fathers of a noble pair, Who, Dwivida and Mainda named, For beauty like their sires were famed, Varun(121) was father of Sushen, Of Sarabh, he who sends the rain,(122) Hanuman, best of monkey kind, Was son of him who breathes the wind: Like thunderbolt in frame was he, And swift as Garud's(123) self could flee. These thousands did the Gods create Endowed with might that none could mate, In monkey forms that changed at will; So strong their wish the fiend to kill. In mountain size, like lions thewed, Up sprang the wondrous multitude, Auxiliar hosts in every shape, Monkey and bear and highland ape. In each the strength, the might, the mien Of his own parent God were seen. Some chiefs of Vanar mothers came, Some of she-bear and minstrel dame, Skilled in all arms in battle's shock; The brandished tree, the loosened rock; And prompt, should other weapons fail, To fight and slay with tooth and nail.

Thus gave the king command anew: Sumantra from his lord withdrew; With head in lowly reverence bent, And filled with thoughts of joy, he went. The royal street he traversed, where Waved flag and pennon to the air, And, as with joy the car he drove, He let his eyes delighted rove. On every side, where'er he came, He heard glad words, their theme the same, As in their joy the gathered folk Of Rama and the throning spoke. Then saw he Rama's palace bright And vast as Mount Kailasa's height, That glorious in its beauty showed As Indra's own supreme abode: With folding doors both high and wide; With hundred porches beautified: Where golden statues towering rose O'er gemmed and coralled porticoes. Bright like a cave in Meru's side, Or clouds through Autumn's sky that ride: Festooned with length of bloomy twine, Flashing with pearls and jewels' shine, While sandal-wood and aloe lent The mingled riches of their scent; With all the odorous sweets that fill The breezy heights of Dardar's hill. There by the gate the Saras screamed, And shrill-toned peacocks' plumage gleamed. Its floors with deftest art inlaid, Its sculptured wolves in gold arrayed, With its bright sheen the palace took The mind of man and chained the look, For like the sun and moon it glowed, And mocked Kuvera's loved abode. Circling the walls a crowd he viewed Who stood in reverent attitude, With throngs of countrymen who sought Acceptance of the gifts they brought. The elephant was stationed there, Appointed Rama's self to bear; Adorned with pearls, his brow and cheek Were sandal-dyed in many a streak, While he, in stature, bulk, and pride, With Indra's own Airavat(280) vied. Sumantra, borne by coursers fleet, Flashing a radiance o'er the street, To Rama's palace flew, And all who lined the royal road, Or thronged the prince's rich abode, Rejoiced as near he drew.

There long the son of Raghu dwelt And love for hill and wood he felt. Then his Videhan spouse to please And his own heart of woe to ease, Like some Immortal--Indra so Might Swarga's charms to Sachi show-- Drew her sweet eyes to each delight Of Chitrakuta's lovely height: "Though reft of power and kingly sway, Though friends and home are far away, I cannot mourn my altered lot, Enamoured of this charming spot. Look, darling, on this noble hill Which sweet birds with their music fill, Bright with a thousand metal dyes His lofty summits cleave the skies. See, there a silvery sheen is spread, And there like blood the rocks are red. There shows a streak of emerald green, And pink and yellow glow between. There where the higher peaks ascend, Crystal and flowers and topaz blend, And others flash their light afar Like mercury or some fair star: With such a store of metals dyed The king of hills is glorified. There through the wild birds' populous home The harmless bear and tiger roam: Hyaenas range the woody slopes With herds of deer and antelopes. See, love, the trees that clothe his side All lovely in their summer pride, In richest wealth of leaves arrayed, With flower and fruit and light and shade, Look where the young Rose-apple glows; What loaded boughs the Mango shows; See, waving in the western wind The light leaves of the Tamarind, And mark that giant Peepul through The feathery clump of tall bamboo.(369) Look, on the level lands above, Delighting in successful love In sweet enjoyment many a pair Of heavenly minstrels revels there, While overhanging boughs support Their swords and mantles as they sport: Then see that pleasant shelter where Play the bright Daughters of the Air.(370) The mountain seems with bright cascade And sweet rill bursting from the shade, Like some majestic elephant o'er Whose burning head the torrents pour.

He spoke, and when his speech was done Bent his fierce brows on Raghu's son. With eager eyes he looked around If lethal arms might yet be found. Not far away and full in view A Sal-tree towering upward grew. His lips in mighty strain compressed, He tore it up with root and crest, With huge arms waved it o'er his head And hurled it shouting, Thou art dead. But Rama, unsurpassed in might, Stayed with his shafts its onward flight, And furious longing seized his soul The giant in the dust to roll. Great drops of sweat each limb bedewed, His red eyes showed his wrathful mood. A thousand arrows, swiftly sent, The giant's bosom tore and rent. From every gash his body showed The blood in foamy torrents flowed, As springing from their caverns leap Swift rivers down the mountain steep. When Khara felt each deadened power Yielding beneath that murderous shower, He charged, infuriate with the scent Of blood, in dire bewilderment. But Rama watched, with ready bow, The onset of his bleeding foe, And ere the monster reached him, drew Backward in haste a yard or two. Then from his side a shaft he took Whose mortal stroke no life might brook: Of peerless might, it bore the name Of Brahma's staff, and glowed with flame: Lord Indra, ruler of the skies, Himself had given the glorious prize. His bow the virtuous hero drew, And at the fiend the arrow flew. Hissing and roaring like the blast Of tempest through the air it passed, And fixed, by Rama's vigour sped, In the foe's breast its pointed head. Then fell the fiend: the quenchless flame Burnt furious in his wounded frame. So burnt by Rudra Andhak(477) fell In Svetaranya's silvery dell: So Namuchi and Vritra(478) died By steaming bolts that tamed their pride: So Bala(479) fell by lightning sent By Him who rules the firmament.

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."

Then ten necked Ravan saw the time Propitious for his purposed crime. A mendicant in guise he came And stood before the Maithil dame. His garb was red, with tufted hair And sandalled feet a shade he bare, And from the fiend's left shoulder slung A staff and water-vessel hung. Near to the lovely dame he drew, While both the chiefs were far from view, As darkness takes the evening air When neither sun nor moon is there. He bent his eye upon the dame, A princess fair, of spotless fame: So might some baleful planet be Near Moon-forsaken Rohini.(495) As the fierce tyrant nearer drew, The trees in Janasthan that grew Waved not a leaf for fear and woe, And the hushed wind forbore to blow. Godavari's waters as they fled, Saw his fierce eye-balls flashing red, And from each swiftly-gliding wave A melancholy murmur gave. Then Ravan, when his eager eye Beheld the longed-for moment nigh, In mendicant's apparel dressed Near to the Maithil lady pressed. In holy guise, a fiend abhorred, He found her mourning for her lord. Thus threatening draws Sanischar(496) nigh To Chitra(497) in the evening sky; Thus the deep well by grass concealed Yawns treacherous in the verdant field. He stood and looked upon the dame Of Rama, queen of spotless fame With her bright teeth and each fair limb Like the full moon she seemed to him, Sitting within her leafy cot, Weeping for woe that left her not. Thus, while with joy his pulses beat, He saw her in her lone retreat, Eyed like the lotus, fair to view In silken robes of amber hue. Pierced to the core by Kama's dart He murmured texts with lying art, And questioned with a soft address The lady in her loneliness. The fiend essayed with gentle speech The heart of that fair dame to reach, Pride of the worlds, like Beauty's Queen Without her darling lotus seen:

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.

Fair mountain, bright with creepers' bloom And every tint that trees assume, Where Yaksha, God, and heavenly maid Meet wandering in the lovely shade, At changing moon and solemn tide By Indra's presence glorified. One hundred leagues in fair extent An island(705) fronts the continent: No man may tread its glittering shore, With utmost heed that isle explore, For the fair country owns the sway Of Ravan whom we burn to slay. A mighty monster stands to keep The passage of the southern deep. Lifting her awful arms on high She grasps e'en shadows as they fly. Speed through that isle, and onward still Where in mid sea the Flowery Hill(706) Raises on high his bloomy head By saints and angels visited. There, with a hundred gleaming peaks Bright as the sun, the sky he seeks, One glorious peak the Lord of Day Gilds ever with his loving ray; Thereon ne'er yet the glances fell Of thankless wretch or infidel. Bow to that hill in reverence due, And then once more your search pursue. Beyond that glorious mountain hie, And Suryavan,(707) proud hill is nigh. Your rapid course yet farther bend Where Vaidyut's(708) airy peaks ascend. There trees of noblest sort, profuse Of wealth, their kindly gifts produce. Their precious fruits, O Vanars, taste, The honey sip, and onward haste. Next will ye see Mount Kunjar rise, Who cheers with beauty hearts and eyes. There is Agastya's(709) mansion, decked By heaven's all moulding architect. Near Bhogavati(710) stands, the place Where dwell the hosts of serpent race: A broad-wayed city, walled and barred, Which watchful legions keep and guard, The fiercest of the serpent youth, Each awful for his venomed tooth: And throned in his imperial hall Is Vasuki(711) who rules them all. Explore the serpent city well, Search town and tower and citadel, And scan each field and wood that lies Around it, with your watchful eyes.

Then to Sushen Sugriva bent, And thus addressed him reverent: "Two hundred thousand of our best With thee, my lord, shall seek the west. Explore Surashtra's(714)] distant plain, Explore Vahlika's(715) wild domain, And all the pleasant brooks that flee Through mountains to the western sea. Search clustering groves on mountain heights, And woods the home of anchorites. Search where the breezy hills are high, Search where the desert regions lie. Search all the western land beset With woody mountains like a net. The country's farthest limit reach, And stand upon the ocean beach. There wander through the groves of palm Where the soft air is full of balm. Through grassy dell and dark ravine Seek Ravan and the Maithil queen. Go visit Somagiri's(716) steep Where Sindhu(717) mingles with the deep. There lions, borne on swift wings, roam The levels of their mountain home, And elephants and monsters bear, Caught from the ocean, to their lair. You Vanars, changing forms at will, With rapid search must scour the hill, And his sky-kissing peak of gold Where loveliest trees their blooms unfold. There golden-peaked, ablaze with light, Uprises Pariyatra's(718) height Where wild Gandharvas, fierce and fell, In bands of countless myriads dwell. Pluck ye no fruit within the wood; Beware the impious neighbourhood, Where, very mighty, strong, and hard To overcome, the fruit they guard. Yet search for Janak's daughter still, For Vanars there need fear no ill. Near, bright as turkis, Vajra(719) named, There stands a hill of diamond framed. Soaring a hundred leagues in pride, With trees and creepers glorified. Search there each cave and dark abyss By waterfall and precipice. Far in that sea the wild waves beat On Chakravan's(720) firm-rooted feet. Where the great discus,(721) thousand rayed, By Visvakarma's(722) art was made. When Panchajan(723) the fiend was slain. And Hayagriva,(724) fierce in vain, Thence taking shell and discus went Lord Vishnu, God preeminent. On!

While from his shelter in the boughs The Vanar looked on Rama's spouse He heard the gathered giants raise The solemn hymn of prayer and praise.-- Priests skilled in rite and ritual, who The Vedas and their branches(824) knew. Then, as loud strains of music broke His sleep, the giant monarch woke. Swift to his heart the thought returned Of the fair queen for whom he burned; Nor could the amorous fiend control The passion that absorbed his soul. In all his brightest garb arrayed He hastened to that lovely shade, Where glowed each choicest flower and fruit, And the sweet birds were never mute, And tall deer bent their heads to drink On the fair streamlet's grassy brink. Near that Asoka grove he drew,-- A hundred dames his retinue. Like Indra with the thousand eyes Girt with the beauties of the skies. Some walked beside their lord to hold The chouries, fans, and lamps of gold. And others purest water bore In golden urns, and paced before. Some carried, piled on golden plates, Delicious food of dainty cates; Some wine in massive bowls whereon The fairest gems resplendent shone. Some by the monarch's side displayed, Wrought like a swan, a silken shade: Another beauty walked behind, The sceptre to her care assigned. Around the monarch gleamed the crowd As lightnings flash about a cloud, And each made music as she went With zone and tinkling ornament. Attended thus in royal state The monarch reached the garden gate, While gold and silver torches, fed With scented oil a soft light shed.(825) He, while the flame of fierce desire Burnt in his eyes like kindled fire, Seemed Love incarnate in his pride, His bow and arrows laid aside.(826) His robe, from spot and blemish free Like Amrit foamy from the sea,(827) Hung down in many a loosened fold Inwrought with flowers and bright with gold.

"My king Sugriva greets thee fair, And bids me thus his rede declare. Son of the God of Wind, by name Hanuman, to this isle I came. To set the Maithil lady free I crossed the barrier of the sea. I roamed in search of her and found Her weeping in that lovely ground. Thou in the lore of duty trained, Who hast by stern devotion gained This wondrous wealth and power and fame Shouldst fear to wrong another's dame. Hear thou my counsel, and be wise: No fiend, no dweller in the skies Can bear the shafts by Lakshman shot, Or Rama when his wrath is hot. O Giant King, repent the crime And soothe him while there yet is time. Now be the Maithil queen restored Uninjured to her sorrowing lord. Soon wilt thou rue thy dire mistake: She is no woman but a snake, Whose very deadly bite will be The ruin of thy house and thee. Thy pride has led thy thoughts astray, That fancy not a hand may slay The monarch of the giants, screened From mortal blow of God and fiend. Sugriva still thy death may be: No Yaksha, fiend, or God is he, And Rama from a woman springs, The mortal seed of mortal kings. O think how Bali fell subdued; Think on thy slaughtered multitude. Respect those brave and strong allies; Consult thy safety, and be wise. I, even I, no helper need To overthrow, with car and steed, Thy city Lanka half divine: The power but not the will is mine. For Raghu's son, before his friend The Vanar monarch, swore to end With his own conquering arm the life Of him who stole his darling wife. Turn, and be wise, O Ravan turn; Or thou wilt see thy Lanka burn, And with thy wives, friends, kith and kin Be ruined for thy senseless sin."

He ceased: they scorned, with blinded eyes, The foeman and his bold allies, Raised reverent hands with one accord, And thus made answer to their lord: "Why yield thee, King, to causeless fear? A mighty host with sword and spear And mace and axe and pike and lance Waits but thy signal to advance. Art thou not he who slew of old The Serpent-Gods, and stormed their hold; Scaled Mount Kailasa and o'erthrew Kuvera(910) and his Yaksha crew, Compelling Siva's haughty friend Beneath a mightier arm to bend? Didst thou not bring from realms afar The marvel of the magic car, When they who served Kuvera fell Crushed in their mountain citadel? Attracted by thy matchless fame To thee, a suppliant, Maya came, The lord of every Danav band, And won thee with his daughter's hand. Thy arm in hell itself was felt, Where Vasuki(911) and Sankha dwelt, And they and Takshak, overthrown, Were forced thy conquering might to own. The Gods in vain their blessing gave To heroes bravest of the brave, Who strove a year and, sorely pressed, Their victor's peerless might confessed. In vain their magic arts they tried, In vain thy matchless arm defied King Varun's sons with fourfold force, Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse, But for a while thy power withstood, And, conquered, mourned their hardihood. Thou hast encountered, face to face, King Yama(912) with his murdering mace. Fierce as the wild tempestuous sea, What terror had his wrath for thee, Though death in every threatening form, And woe and torment, urged the storm? Thine arm a glorious victory won O'er the dread king who pities none; And the three worlds, from terror freed, In joyful wonder praised thy deed. The tribe of Warriors, strong and dread As Indra's self, o'er earth had spread; As giant trees that towering stand In mountain glens, they filled the land. Can Raghu's son encounter foes Fierce, numerous, and strong as those?

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

She ceased. So counselled to her bane Disguised beneath a show of gain, Kaikeyi in her joy and pride To Manthara again replied: "Thy sense I envy, prudent maid; With sagest lore thy lids persuade. No hump-back maid in all the earth, For wise resolve, can match thy worth. Thou art alone with constant zeal Devoted to thy lady's weal. Dear girl, without thy faithful aid I had not marked the plot he laid. Full of all guile and sin and spite Misshapen hump-backs shock the sight: But thou art fair and formed to please, Bent like a lily by the breeze. I look thee o'er with watchful eye, And in thy frame no fault can spy; The chest so deep, the waist so trim, So round the lines of breast and limb.(271) Thy cheeks with moonlike beauty shine, And the warm wealth of youth is thine. Thy legs, my girl, are long and neat, And somewhat long thy dainty feet, While stepping out before my face Thou seemest like a crane to pace. The thousand wiles are in thy breast Which Sambara the fiend possessed, And countless others all thine own, O damsel sage, to thee are known. Thy very hump becomes thee too, O thou whose face is fair to view, For there reside in endless store Plots, wizard wiles, and warrior lore. A golden chain I'll round it fling When Rama's flight makes Bharat king: Yea, polished links of finest gold, When once the wished for prize I hold With naught to fear and none to hate, Thy hump, dear maid, shall decorate. A golden frontlet wrought with care, And precious jewels shalt thou wear: Two lovely robes around thee fold, And walk a Goddess to behold, Bidding the moon himself compare His beauty with a face so fair. With scent of precious sandal sweet Down to the nails upon thy feet, First of the household thou shalt go And pay with scorn each battled foe."

And now the night had past away; Out shone the Maker of the Day, Bringing the planetary hour And moment of auspicious power. Vasishtha, virtuous, far renowned, Whose young disciples girt him round, With sacred things without delay Through the fair city took his way. He traversed, where the people thronged, And all for Rama's coming longed, The town as fair in festive show As his who lays proud cities low.(278) He reached the palace where he heard The mingled notes of many a bird, Where crowded thick high-honoured bands Of guards with truncheons in their hands. Begirt by many a sage, elate, Vasishtha reached the royal gate, And standing by the door he found Sumantra, for his form renowned, The king's illustrious charioteer And noble counsellor and peer. To him well skilled in every part Of his hereditary art Vasishtha said: "O charioteer, Inform the king that I am here, Here ready by my side behold These sacred vessels made of gold, Which water for the rite contain From Ganga and each distant main. Here for installing I have brought The seat prescribed of fig-wood wrought, All kinds of seed and precious scent And many a gem and ornament; Grain, sacred grass, the garden's spoil, Honey and curds and milk and oil; Eight radiant maids, the best of all War elephants that feed in stall; A four-horse car, a bow and sword. A litter, men to bear their lord; A white umbrella bright and fair That with the moon may well compare; Two chouries of the whitest hair; A golden beaker rich and rare; A bull high-humped and fair to view, Girt with gold bands and white of hue; A four-toothed steed with flowing mane, A throne which lions carved sustain; A tiger's skin, the sacred fire, Fresh kindled, which the rites require; The best musicians skilled to play, And dancing-girls in raiment gay; Kine, Brahmans, teachers fill the court, And bird and beast of purest sort.

One sage, o'er whom, exceeding old, Had many a year of penance rolled, Trembling in every aged limb Thus for the rest replied to him: "How could we, O beloved, blame Thy lofty-souled Videhan dame, Who in the good of all delights, And more than all of anchorites? But yet through thee a numbing dread Of fiends among our band has spread; Obstructed by the demons' art The trembling hermits talk apart. For Ravan's brother, overbold, Named Khara, of gigantic mould, Vexes with fury fierce and fell All those in Janasthan(399) who dwell. Resistless in his cruel deeds, On flesh of men the monster feeds: Sinful and arrogant is he, And looks with special hate on thee. Since thou, beloved son, hast made Thy home within this holy shade, The fiends have vexed with wilder rage The dwellers of the hermitage. In many a wild and dreadful form Around the trembling saints they swarm, With hideous shape and foul disguise They terrify our holy eyes. They make our loathing souls endure Insult and scorn and sights impure, And flocking round the altars stay The holy rites we love to pay. In every spot throughout the grove With evil thoughts the monsters rove, Assailing with their secret might Each unsuspecting anchorite. Ladle and dish away they fling, Our fires with floods extinguishing, And when the sacred flame should burn They trample on each water-urn. Now when they see their sacred wood Plagued by this impious brotherhood, The troubled saints away would roam And seek in other shades a home: Hence will we fly, O Rama, ere The cruel fiends our bodies tear. Not far away a forest lies Rich in the roots and fruit we prize, To this will I and all repair And join the holy hermits there; Be wise, and with us thither flee Before this Khara injure thee. Mighty art thou, O Rama, yet Each day with peril is beset. If with thy consort by thy side Thou in this wood wilt still abide."

The strong-armed hero spake, and ran Forward to meet the sunbright man. Before him, as he came, he bent And clasped his feet most reverent, Then rearing up his stately height Stood suppliant by the anchorite, While Lakshman's strength and Sita's grace Stood by the pride of Raghu's race. The sage his arms round Rama threw And welcomed him with honours due, Asked, was all well, with question sweet, And bade the hero to a seat. With holy oil he fed the flame, He brought the gifts which strangers claim, And kindly waiting on the three With honours due to high degree, He gave with hospitable care A simple hermit's woodland fare. Then sat the reverend father, first Of hermits, deep in duty versed. And thus to suppliant Rama, bred In all the lore of virtue, said: "Did the false hermit, Prince, neglect To hail his guest with due respect, He must,--the doom the perjured meet,-- His proper flesh hereafter eat. A car-borne king, a lord who sways The earth, and virtue's law obeys, Worthy of highest honour, thou Hast sought, dear guest, my cottage now." He spoke: with fruit and hermit fare, With every bloom the branches bare, Agastya graced his honoured guest, And thus with gentle words addressed: "Accept this mighty bow, divine, Whereon red gold and diamonds shine; 'Twas by the Heavenly Artist planned For Vishnu's own almighty hand; This God-sent shaft of sunbright hue, Whose deadly flight is ever true, By Lord Mahendra given of yore: This quiver with its endless store. Keen arrows hurtling to their aim Like kindled fires that flash and flame: Accept, in golden sheath encased, This sword with hilt of rich gold graced. Armed with this best of bows Lord Vishnu slew his demon foes, And mid the dwellers in the skies Won brilliant glory for his prize. The bow, the quivers, shaft, and sword Received from me, O glorious lord: These conquest to thine arm shall bring, As thunder to the thunder's King."

The bathing and the prayer were o'er; He turned him from the grassy shore, And with his brother and his spouse Sought his fair home beneath the boughs. Sita and Lakshman by his side, On to his cot the hero hied, And after rites at morning due Within the leafy shade withdrew. Then, honoured by the devotees, As royal Rama sat at ease, With Sita near him, o'er his head A canopy of green boughs spread, He shone as shines the Lord of Night By Chitra's(457) side, his dear delight. With Lakshman there he sat and told Sweet stories of the days of old, And as the pleasant time he spent With heart upon each tale intent, A giantess, by fancy led, Came wandering to his leafy shed. Fierce Surpanakha,--her of yore The Ten-necked tyrant's mother bore,-- Saw Rama with his noble mien Bright as the Gods in heaven are seen; Him from whose brow a glory gleamed, Like lotus leaves his full eyes beamed: Long-armed, of elephantine gait, With hair close coiled in hermit plait: In youthful vigour, nobly framed, By glorious marks a king proclaimed: Like some bright lotus lustrous-hued, With young Kandarpa's(458) grace endued: As there like Indra's self he shone, She loved the youth she gazed upon. She grim of eye and foul of face Loved his sweet glance and forehead's grace: She of unlovely figure, him Of stately form and shapely limb: She whose dim locks disordered hung, Him whose bright hair on high brows clung: She whose fierce accents counselled fear, Him whose soft tones were sweet to hear: She whose dire form with age was dried, Him radiant in his youthful pride: She whose false lips maintained the wrong, Him in the words of virtue strong: She cruel-hearted, stained with sin, Him just in deed and pure within. She, hideous fiend, a thing to hate, Him formed each eye to captivate: Fierce passion in her bosom woke, And thus to Raghu's son she spoke:

But, brother, if thy fears be true, And this bright creature that we view Be fierce Maricha in disguise, Then by this hand he surely dies. For that dire fiend who spurns control With bloody hand and cruel soul, Has roamed this forest and dismayed The holiest saints who haunt the shade. Great archers, sprung of royal race, Pursuing in the wood the chase, Have fallen by his wicked art, And now my shaft shall strike his heart. Vatapi, by his magic power Made heedless saints his flesh devour, Then, from within their frames he rent Forth bursting from imprisonment. But once his art in senseless pride Upon the mightiest saint he tried, Agastya's self, and caused him taste The baited meal before him placed. Vatapi, when the rite was o'er, Would take the giant form he wore, But Saint Agastya knew his wile And checked the giant with smile. "Vatapi, thou with cruel spite Hast conquered many an anchorite The noblest of the Brahman caste,-- And now thy ruin comes at last." Now if my power he thus defies, This giant, like Vatapi dies, Daring to scorn a man like me, A self subduing devotee. Yea, as Agastya slew the foe, My hand shall lay Maricha low Clad in thine arms thy bow in hand, To guard the Maithil lady stand, With watchful eye and thoughtful breast Keeping each word of my behest I go, and hunting through the brake This wondrous deer will bring or take. Yea surely I will bring the spoil Returning from my hunter's toil See, Lakshman how my consort's eyes Are longing for the lovely prize. This day it falls, that I may win The treasure of so fair a skin. Do thou and Sita watch with care Lest danger seize you unaware. Swift from my bow one shaft will fly; The stricken deer will fall and die Then quickly will I strip the game And bring the trophy to my dame.

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.

"How lovely Pampa's waters show, Where streams of lucid crystal flow! What glorious trees o'erhang the flood Which blooms of opening lotus stud! Look on the banks of Pampa where Thick groves extend divinely fair; And piles of trees, like hills in size, Lift their proud summits to the skies. But thought of Bharat's(523) pain and toil, And my dear spouse the giant's spoil, Afflict my tortured heart and press My spirit down with heaviness. Still fair to me though sunk in woe Bright Pampa and her forest show. Where cool fresh waters charm the sight, And flowers of every hue are bright. The lotuses in close array Their passing loveliness display, And pard and tiger, deer and snake Haunt every glade and dell and brake. Those grassy spots display the hue Of topazes and sapphires' blue, And, gay with flowers of every dye, With richly broidered housings vie. What loads of bloom the high trees crown, Or weigh the bending branches down! And creepers tipped with bud and flower Each spray and loaded limb o'erpower. Now cool delicious breezes blow, And kindle love's voluptuous glow, When balmy sweetness fills the air, And fruit and flowers and trees are fair. Those waving woods, that shine with bloom, Each varied tint in turn assume. Like labouring clouds they pour their showers In rain or ever-changing flowers. Behold, those forest trees, that stand High upon rock and table-land, As the cool gales their branches bend, Their floating blossoms downward send. See, Lakshman, how the breezes play With every floweret on the spray. And sport in merry guise with all The fallen blooms and those that fall. See, brother, where the merry breeze Shakes the gay boughs of flowery trees, Disturbed amid their toil a throng Of bees pursue him, loud in song. The Koils,(524) mad with sweet delight, The bending trees to dance invite; And in its joy the wild wind sings As from the mountain cave he springs.

"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."

Still Ravan's haughty heart rebelled, The counsel of the wise repelled, And, as his breast with passion burned, His thoughts again to Sita turned. Thus, to each sign of danger blind, To love and war he still inclined. Then mounted he his car that glowed With gems and golden net, and rode Where, gathered at the monarch's call, The nobles filled the council hall. A host of warriors bright and gay With coloured robes and rich array, With shield and mace and spear and sword, Followed the chariot of their lord. Mid the loud voice of shells and beat Of drums he raced along the street, And, ere he came, was heard afar The rolling thunder of his car. He reached the doors: the nobles bent Their heads before him reverent: And, welcomed with their loud acclaim, Within the glorious hall he came. He sat upon a royal seat With golden steps beneath his feet, And bade the heralds summon all His captains to the council hall. The heralds heard the words he spake, And sped from house to house to wake The giants where they slept or spent The careless hours in merriment. These heard the summons and obeyed: From chamber, grove, and colonnade, On elephants or cars they rode, Or through the streets impatient strode. As birds on rustling pinions fly Through regions of the darkened sky, Thus cars and mettled coursers through The crowded streets of Lanka flew. The council hall was reached, and then, As lions seek their mountain den, Through massy doors that opened wide, With martial stalk the captains hied. Welcomed with honour as was meet They stooped to press their monarch's feet, And each a place in order found On stool, on cushion, or the ground. Nor did the sage Vibhishan long Delay to join the noble throng. High on a car that shone like flame With gold and flashing gems he came, Drew near and spoke his name aloud, And reverent to his brother bowed.

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.

The father, swift to feel for woe, Shall on his friend his child bestow; And he shall take her and depart To his own town with joyous heart. The maiden home in triumph led, To Rishyasring the king shall wed. And he with loving joy and pride Shall take her for his honoured bride. And Dasaratha to a rite That best of Brahmans shall invite With supplicating prayer, To celebrate the sacrifice To win him sons and Paradise,(83) That he will fain prepare. From him the lord of men at length The boon he seeks shall gain, And see four sons of boundless strength His royal line maintain." "Thus did the godlike saint of old The will of fate declare, And all that should befall unfold Amid the sages there. O Prince supreme of men, go thou, Consult thy holy guide, And win, to aid thee in thy vow, This Brahman to thy side." Sumantra's counsel, wise and good, King Dasaratha heard, Then by Vasishtha's side he stood And thus with him conferred: "Sumantra counsels thus: do thou My priestly guide, the plan allow." Vasishtha gave his glad consent, And forth the happy monarch went With lords and servants on the road That led to Rishyasring's abode. Forests and rivers duly past, He reached the distant town at last Of Lomapad the Angas' king, And entered it with welcoming. On through the crowded streets he came, And, radiant as the kindled flame, He saw within the monarch's house The hermit's son most glorious. There Lomapad, with joyful breast, To him all honour paid, For friendship for his royal guest His faithful bosom swayed. Thus entertained with utmost care Seven days, or eight, he tarried there, And then that best of men thus broke His purpose to the king, and spoke: "O King of men, mine ancient friend, (Thus Dasaratha prayed) Thy Santa with her husband send My sacrifice to aid." Said he who ruled the Angas, Yea, And his consent was won: And then at once he turned away To warn the hermit's son.

His tortured senses all astray, While the hapless monarch lay, Then slowly gathering thought and strength To Visvamitra spoke at length: "My son is but a child, I ween; This year he will be just sixteen. How is he fit for such emprise, My darling with the lotus eyes? A mighty army will I bring That calls me master, lord, and king, And with its countless squadrons fight Against these rovers of the night. My faithful heroes skilled to wield The arms of war will take the field; Their skill the demons' might may break: Rama, my child, thou must not take. I, even I, my bow in hand, Will in the van of battle stand, And, while my soul is left alive, With the night-roaming demons strive. Thy guarded sacrifice shall be Completed, from all hindrance free. Thither will I my journey make: Rama, my child, thou must not take. A boy unskilled, he knows not yet The bounds to strength and weakness set. No match is he for demon foes Who magic arts to arms oppose. O chief of saints, I have no power, Of Rama reft, to live one hour: Mine aged heart at once would break: Rama, my child, thou must not take. Nine thousand circling years have fled With all their seasons o'er my head, And as a hard-won boon, O sage, These sons have come to cheer mine age. My dearest love amid the four Is he whom first his mother bore, Still dearer for his virtues' sake: Rama, my child, thou must not take. But if, unmoved by all I say, Thou needs must bear my son away, Let me lead with him, I entreat, A four-fold army(144) all complete. What is the demons' might, O Sage? Who are they? What their parentage? What is their size? What beings lend Their power to guard them and befriend? How can my son their arts withstand? Or I or all my armed band? Tell me the whole that I may know To meet in war each evil foe Whom conscious might inspires with pride."

And Kusik's son approved his speech, And moving to the sandy beach, Placed in the boat the hermit band, And reached the river's further strand. On the north bank their feet they set, And greeted all the saints they met. On Ganga's shore they lighted down, And saw Visala's lovely town. Thither, the princes by his side, The best of holy hermits hied. It was a town exceeding fair That might with heaven itself compare. Then, suppliant palm to palm applied, Famed Rama asked his holy guide: "O best of hermits, say what race Of monarchs rules this lovely place. Dear master, let my prayer prevail, For much I long to hear the tale." Moved by his words, the saintly man Visala's ancient tale began: "List, Rama, list, with closest heed The tale of Indra's wondrous deed, And mark me as I truly tell What here in ancient days befell. Ere Krita's famous Age(200) had fled, Strong were the sons of Diti(201) bred; And Aditi's brave children too Were very mighty, good, and true. The rival brothers fierce and bold Were sons of Kasyap lofty-souled. Of sister mothers born, they vied, Brood against brood, in jealous pride. Once, as they say, band met with band, And, joined in awful council, planned To live, unharmed by age and time, Immortal in their youthful prime. Then this was, after due debate, The counsel of the wise and great, To churn with might the milky sea(202) The life-bestowing drink to free. This planned, they seized the Serpent King, Vasuki, for their churning-string, And Mandar's mountain for their pole, And churned with all their heart and soul. As thus, a thousand seasons through, This way and that the snake they drew, Biting the rocks, each tortured head, A very deadly venom shed. Thence, bursting like a mighty flame, A pestilential poison came, Consuming, as it onward ran, The home of God, and fiend, and man. Then all the suppliant Gods in fear To Sankar,(203) mighty lord, drew near. To Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed, "Save us, O save us, Lord!" they prayed.

Soon as the king his lips had stilled, Up rose Vasishtha, speaker skilled. And to Videha's lord began In flowing words that holy man: "From viewless Nature Brahma rose, No change, no end, no waste 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 to fight. His son was Prithu, glorious name; From him the good Trisanku came. He left a son renowned afar, Known by the name of Dhundhumar. His son, who drove the mighty car, Was Yuvanasva, feared in war. 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, And glorious fame that monarch won. The warrior Asit he begot. Asit had warfare, fierce and hot, With rival kings in many a spot, Haihayas, Talajanghas styled, And Sasivindus, strong and wild. Long time he strove, but forced to yield Fled from his kingdom and the field. With his two wives away he fled Where high Himalaya lifts his head, And, all his wealth and glory past, He paid the dues of Fate at last. The wives he left had both conceived-- So is the ancient tale believed-- One, of her rival's hopes afraid Fell poison in her viands laid. It chanced that Chyavan, Bhrigu's child, Had wandered to that pathless wild, And there Himalaya's lovely height Detained him with a strange delight. There came the other widowed queen, With lotus eyes and beauteous mien, Longing a noble son to bear, And wooed the saint with earnest prayer.

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