Ramayana on Protection

"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."

The Vanar sovereign, lofty-souled, In plaintive voice his sorrows told. Then Rama spake: "Sugriva, list, All anger from thy heart dismissed, And I will tell the cause that stayed Mine arrow, and withheld the aid. In dress, adornment, port, and height, In splendour, battle-shout, and might, No shade of difference could I see Between thy foe, O King, and thee. So like was each, I stood at gaze, My senses lost in wildering maze, Nor loosened from my straining bow A deadly arrow at the foe, Lest in my doubt the shaft should send To sudden death our surest friend. O, if this hand in heedless guilt And rash resolve thy blood had spilt, Through every land, O Vanar King, My wild and foolish act would ring. Sore weight of sin on him must lie By whom a friend is made to die; And Lakshman, I, and Sita, best Of dames, on thy protection rest. On, warrior! for the fight prepare; Nor fear again thy foe to dare. Within one hour thine eye shall view My arrow strike thy foeman through; Shall see the stricken Bali lie Low on the earth, and gasp and die. But come, a badge about thee bind, O monarch of the Vanar kind, That in the battle shock mine eyes The friend and foe may recognize. Come, Lakshman, let that creeper deck With brightest bloom Sugriva's neck, And be a happy token, twined Around the chief of lofty mind."

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."

"Vast is the city, gay and strong, Where elephants unnumbered throng, And countless hosts of Rakshas breed Stand ready by the car and steed. Four massive gates, securely barred, All entrance to the city guard, With murderous engines fixt to throw Bolt, arrow, rock to check the foe, And many a mace with iron head That strikes at once a hundred dead. Her golden ramparts wide and high With massy strength the foe defy, Where inner walls their rich inlay Of coral, turkis, pearl display. Her circling moats are broad and deep, Where ravening monsters dart and leap. By four great piers each moat is spanned Where lines of deadly engines stand. In sleepless watch at every gate Unnumbered hosts of giants wait, And, masters of each weapon, rear The threatening pike and sword and spear. My fury hurled those ramparts down, Filled up the moats that gird the town, The piers and portals overturned, And stately Lanka spoiled and burned. Howe'er we Vanars force our way O'er the wide seat of Varun's(899) sway, Be sure that city of the foe Is doomed to sudden overthrow, Nay, why so vast an army lead? Brave Angad, Dwivid good at need, Fierce Mainda, Panas famed in fight, And Nila's skill and Nala's might, And Jambavan the strong and wise, Will dare the easy enterprise. Assailed by these shall Lanka fall With gate and rampart, tower and wall. Command the gathering, chief: and they In happy hour will haste away."

She ceased: the sound, long loud and clear, Of gathering armies smote her ear, Where call of drum and shell rang out, The tambour and the battle shout; And, while the din the echoes woke, Again to Janak's child she spoke: "Hear, lady, hear the loud alarms That call the Rakshas troops to arms, From stable and from stall they lead The elephant and neighing steed, Brace harness on with deftest care, And chariots for the fight prepare. Swift o'er the trembling ground career Mailed horsemen armed with axe and spear, And here and there in road and street The terrible battalions meet. I hear the gathering near and far, The snorting steed, the rattling car. Bold chieftains, leaders of the brave, Press densely on, like wave on wave, And bright the evening sunbeams glance On helm and shield, on sword and lance. Hark, lady, to the ringing steel, Hark to the rolling chariot wheel: Hark to the mettled courser's neigh And drums' loud thunder far away. The Queen of Fortune holds thee dear, For Lanka's troops are struck with fear, And Rama with the lotus eyes, Like Indra monarch of the skies, With conquering arm will slay his foe And free his lady from her woe. Soon will his breast support thy head, And tears of joy thine eyes will shed. Soon by his mighty arm embraced The long-lost rapture wilt thou taste, And Rama, meet for highest bliss, Will gain his guerdon in thy kiss."

On piles of holy Fig-tree raised The meaner victims' bodies blazed: The steed, of all the creatures slain, Alone required a pile of cane. Three days, as is by law decreed, Lasted that Offering of the Steed. The Chatushtom began the rite, And when the sun renewed his light, The Ukthya followed: after came The Atiratra's holy flame. These were the rites, and many more Arranged by light of holy lore, The Aptoryam of mighty power, And, each performed in proper hour, The Abhijit and Visvajit With every form and service fit; And with the sacrifice at night The Jyotishtom and Ayus rite.(103) The task was done, as laws prescribe: The monarch, glory of his tribe, Bestowed the land in liberal grants Upon the sacred ministrants. He gave the region of the east, His conquest, to the Hotri priest. The west, the celebrant obtained: The south, the priest presiding gained: The northern region was the share Of him who chanted forth the prayer,(104) Thus did each priest obtain his meed At the great Slaughter of the Steed, Ordained, the best of all to be, By self-existent deity. Ikshvaku's son with joyful mind This noble fee to each assigned, But all the priests with one accord Addressed that unpolluted lord: "Tis thine alone to keep the whole Of this broad earth in firm control. No gift of lands from thee we seek: To guard these realms our hands were weak. On sacred lore our days are spent: Let other gifts our wants content."

The wicked queen her speech renewed, When rolling on the earth she viewed Ikshvaku's son, Ayodhya's king, For his dear Rama sorrowing: "Why, by a simple promise bound, Liest thou prostrate on the ground, As though a grievous sin dismayed Thy spirit! Why so sore afraid? Keep still thy word. The righteous deem That truth, mid duties, is supreme: And now in truth and honour's name I bid thee own the binding claim. Saivya, a king whom earth obeyed, Once to a hawk a promise made, Gave to the bird his flesh and bone, And by his truth made heaven his own.(277) Alarka, when a Brahman famed For Scripture lore his promise claimed, Tore from his head his bleeding eyes And unreluctant gave the prize. His narrow bounds prescribed restrain The Rivers' Lord, the mighty main, Who, though his waters boil and rave, Keeps faithful to the word he gave. Truth all religion comprehends, Through all the world its might extends: In truth alone is justice placed, On truth the words of God are based: A life in truth unchanging past Will bring the highest bliss at last. If thou the right would still pursue, Be constant to thy word and true: Let me thy promise fruitful see, For boons, O King, proceed from thee. Now to preserve thy righteous fame, And yielding to my earnest claim-- Thrice I repeat it--send thy child, Thy Rama, to the forest wild. But if the boon thou still deny, Before thy face, forlorn, I die."

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

Then, all his thoughts on Sita bent, The Vanar chieftain made lament: "The queen to Rama's soul endeared, By Lakshman's pious heart revered, Lies here,--for none may strive with Fate, A captive, sad and desolate. The brothers' might full well she knows, And bravely bears the storm of woes, As swelling Ganga in the rains The rush of every flood sustains. Her lord, for her, fierce Bali slew, Viradha's monstrous might o'erthrew, For her the fourteen thousand slain In Janasthan bedewed the plain. And if for her Ikshvaku's son Destroyed the world 'twere nobly done. This, this is she, so far renowned, Who sprang from out the furrowed ground,(823) Child of the high-souled king whose sway The men of Mithila obey: The glorious lady wooed and won By Dasaratha's noblest son; And now these sad eyes look on her Mid hostile fiends a prisoner. From home and every bliss she fled By wifely love and duty led, And heedless of a wanderer's woes, A life in lonely forests chose. This, this is she so fair of mould. Whose limbs are bright as burnished gold. Whose voice was ever soft and mild, Who sweetly spoke and sweetly smiled. O, what is Rama's misery! how He longs to see his darling now! Pining for one of her fond looks As one athirst for water brooks. Absorbed in woe the lady sees No Rakshas guard, no blooming trees. Her eyes are with her thoughts, and they Are fixed on Rama far away."

Again the Maithil lady spoke, While tears and sobs her utterance broke: "The surest of all signs is this, To tell the tale of vanished bliss. Thus in my name to Rama speak: "Remember Chitrakuta's peak And the green margin of the rill(867) That flows beside that pleasant hill, Where thou and I together strayed Delighting in the tangled shade. There on the grass I sat with thee And laid my head upon thy knee. There came a greedy crow and pecked The meat I waited to protect And, heedless of the clods I threw, About my head in circles flew, Until by darling hunger pressed He boldly pecked me on the breast. I ran to thee in rage and grief And prayed for vengeance on the thief. Then Rama(868) from his slumber rose And smiled with pity at my woes. Upon my bleeding breast he saw The scratches made by beak and claw. He laid an arrow on his bow, And launched it at the shameless crow. That shaft, with magic power endued, The bird, where'er he flew, pursued, Till back to Raghu's son he fled And bent at Rama's feet his head.(869) Couldst thou for me with anger stirred Launch that dire shaft upon a bird, And yet canst pardon him who stole The darling of thy heart and soul? Rise up, O bravest of the brave, And come in all thy might to save. Come with the thunders of thy bow, And smite to earth the Rakshas foe."

Long on the ground he wept, and rolled From side to side, still unconsoled, And then, with bitter grief oppressed, His mother with these words addressed: "This joyful hope my bosom fed When from my grandsire's halls I sped-- "The king will throne his eldest son, And sacrifice, as should be done." But all is changed, my hope was vain, And this sad heart is rent in twain, For my dear father's face I miss, Who ever sought his loved ones' bliss. But in my absence, mother, say, What sickness took my sire away? Ah, happy Rama, happy they Allowed his funeral rites to pay! The glorious monarch has not learned That I his darling have returned, Or quickly had he hither sped, And pressed his kisses on my head. Where is that hand whose gentle touch, Most soft and kind I loved so much, The hand that loved to brush away The dust that on his darling lay? Quick, bear the news to Rama's ear; Tell the great chief that I am here: Brother, and sire, and friend, and all Is he, and I his trusty thrall. For noble hearts, to virtue true, Their sires in elder brothers view. To clasp his feet I fain would bow: He is my hope and refuge now. What said my glorious sire, who knew Virtue and vice, so brave and true? Firm in his vows, dear lady, say, What said he ere he passed away? What was his rede to me? I crave To hear the last advice he gave."

He spoke: the conquering Lakshman heard, Obedient to his brother's word. Raised by his toil a cottage stood To shelter Rama in the wood, Of ample size, with leaves o'erlaid, Of hardened earth the walls were made. The strong bamboos his hands had felled For pillars fair the roof upheld, And rafter, beam, and lath supplied Well interwrought from side to side. Then Sami(451) boughs he deftly spread Enlaced with knotted cord o'erhead, Well thatched above from ridge to eaves With holy grass, and reed, and leaves. The mighty chief with careful toil Had cleared the ground and smoothed the soil Where now, his loving labour done, Rose a fair home for Raghu's son. Then when his work was duly wrought, Godavaris sweet stream he sought, Bathed, plucked the lilies, and a store Of fruit and berries homeward bore. Then sacrifice he duly paid, And wooed the Gods their hopes to aid, And then to Rama proudly showed The cot prepared for his abode. Then Raghu's son with Sita gazed Upon the home his hands had raised, And transport thrilled his bosom through His leafy hermitage to view. The glorious son of Raghu round His brother's neck his arms enwound, And thus began his sweet address Of deep-felt joy and gentleness: "Well pleased am I, dear lord, to see This noble work performed by thee. For this,--sole grace I can bestow,-- About thy neck mine arms I throw. So wise art thou, thy breast is filled With grateful thoughts, in duty skilled, Our mighty father, free from stain, In thee, his offspring, lives again."

"You ne'er can raise the dead to bliss By agony of grief like this. Cease your lament, nor leave undone The funeral task you may not shun. As nature orders o'er the dead. Your tributary tears are shed, But Fate, directing each event, Is still the lord preeminent. Yes, all obey the changeless laws Of Fate the universal cause. By Fate, the lives of all proceed, That governs every word and deed, None acts, none sees his hest obeyed, But each and all by Fate are swayed. The world its ordered course maintains, And o'er that course Fate ever reigns. Fate ne'er exceeds the rule of Fate: Is ne'er too swift, is ne'er too late, And making nature its ally Forgets no life, nor passes by. No kith and kin, no power and force Can check or stay its settled course, No friend or client, grace or charm, That victor of the world disarm. So all who see with prudent eyes The hand of Fate must recognize, For virtue rules, or love, or gain, As Fate's unchanged decrees ordain. Bali has died and won the meed That waits in heaven on noble deed, Throned in the seats the brave may reach By liberal hand and gentle speech, True to a warrior's duty, bold In fight, the hero lofty-souled Deigned not to guard his life: he died, And now in heaven is glorified. Then cease these tears and wild despair: Turn to the task that claims your care, For Bali's is the glorious fate Which warriors count most fortunate."

On the bare earth the lady sank, And trembling from their presence shrank Like a strayed fawn, when night is dark, And hungry wolves around her bark. Then to a shady tree she crept, And thought upon her lord and wept. By fear and bitter woe oppressed She bathed the beauties of her breast With her hot tears' incessant flow, And found no respite from her woe. As shakes a plantain in the breeze She shook, and fell on trembling knees; While at each demon's furious look Her cheek its native hue forsook. She lay and wept and made her moan In sorrow's saddest undertone, And, wild with grief, with fear appalled, On Rama and his brother called: "O dear Kausalya,(842) hear me cry! Sweet Queen Sumitra,(843) list my sigh! True is the saw the wise declare: Death comes not to relieve despair. 'Tis vain for dame or man to pray; Death will not hear before his day; Since I, from Rama's sight debarred, And tortured by my cruel guard, Still live in hopeless woe to grieve And loathe the life I may not leave, Here, like a poor deserted thing, My limbs upon the ground I fling, And, like a bark beneath the blast, Shall sink oppressed with woes at last. Ah, blest are they, supremely blest, Whose eyes upon my lord may rest; Who mark his lion port, and hear His gentle speech that charms the ear. Alas, what antenatal crime, What trespass of forgotten time Weighs on my soul, and bids me bow Beneath this load of misery now?"

Not truth, or gift, or bended knee, Not honour, worship, lordly fee, Storms heaven and wins a blessing thence Like sonly love and reverence. Heaven, riches, grain, and varied lore, With sons and many a blessing more, All these are made their own with ease By those their elders' souls who please. The mighty-souled, who ne'er forget, Devoted sons, their filial debt, Win worlds where Gods and minstrels are, And Brahma's sphere more glorious far. Now as the orders of my sire, Who keeps the way of truth, require, So will I do, for such the way Of duty that endures for aye: To take thee, love, to Dandak's wild My heart at length is reconciled, For thee such earnest thoughts impel To follow, and with me to dwell. O faultless form from feet to brows, Come with me, as my will allows, And duty there with me pursue, Trembler, whose bright eyes thrill me through. In all thy days, come good come ill, Preserve unchanged such noble will, And thou, dear love, wilt ever be The glory of thy house and me. Now, beauteous-armed, begin the tasks The woodland life of hermits asks. For me the joys of heaven above Have charms no more without thee, love. And now, dear Sita, be not slow: Food on good mendicants bestow, And for the holy Brahmans bring Thy treasures and each precious thing. Thy best attire and gems collect, The jewels which thy beauty decked, And every ornament and toy Prepared for hours of sport and joy: The beds, the cars wherein I ride, Among our followers, next, divide."

When Rama, chief of Raghu's race, Arrived at that delightful place, He looked on Sita first, and then To Lakshman spake the lord of men: "Now first the shades of night descend Since to the wilds our steps we bend. Joy to thee, brother! do not grieve For our dear home and all we leave. The woods unpeopled seem to weep Around us, as their tenants creep Or fly to lair and den and nest, Both bird and beast, to seek their rest. Methinks Ayodhya's royal town Where dwells my sire of high renown, With all her men and dames to-night Will mourn us vanished from their sight. For, by his virtues won, they cling In fond affection to their king, And thee and me, O brave and true, And Bharat and Satrughna too. I for my sire and mother feel Deep sorrow o'er my bosom steal, Lest mourning us, oppressed with fears, They blind their eyes with endless tears. Yet Bharat's duteous love will show Sweet comfort in their hours of woe, And with kind words their hearts sustain, Suggesting duty, bliss, and gain. I mourn my parents now no more: I count dear Bharat's virtues o'er, And his kind love and care dispel The doubts I had, and all is well. And thou thy duty wouldst not shun, And, following me, hast nobly done; Else, bravest, I should need a band Around my wife as guard to stand. On this first night, my thirst to slake, Some water only will I take: Thus, brother, thus my will decides, Though varied store the wood provides."

The hermit with his tender eyes Looked on Trisanku's altered guise, And grieving at his ruined state Addressed him thus, compassionate: "Great King," the pious hermit said, "What cause thy steps has hither led, Ayodhya's mighty Sovereign, whom A curse has plagued with outcast's doom?" In vile Chandala(237) shape, the king Heard Visvamitra's questioning, And, suppliant palm to palm applied, With answering eloquence he cried: "My priest and all his sons refused To aid the plan on which I mused. Failing to win the boon I sought, To this condition I was brought. I, in the body, Saint, would fain A mansion in the skies obtain. I planned a hundred rites for this, But still was doomed the fruit to miss. Pure are my lips from falsehood's stain, And pure they ever shall remain,-- Yea, by a Warrior's faith I swear,-- Though I be tried with grief and care. Unnumbered rites to Heaven I paid, With righteous care the sceptre swayed; And holy priest and high-souled guide My modest conduct gratified. But, O thou best of hermits, they Oppose my wish these rites to pay; They one and all refuse consent, Nor aid me in my high intent. Fate is, I ween, the power supreme, Man's effort but an idle dream, Fate whirls our plans, our all away; Fate is our only hope and stay; Now deign, O blessed Saint, to aid Me, even me by Fate betrayed, Who come, a suppliant, sore distressed, One grace, O Hermit, to request. No other hope or way I see: No other refuge waits for me. Oh, aid me in my fallen state, And human will shall conquer Fate."

"Woe! woe!" from the sad monarch burst, In surging floods of grief immersed; Then swooning, with his wits astray, Upon the gold-wrought couch he lay, And Rama raised the aged king: But the stern queen, unpitying, Checked not her needless words, nor spared The hero for all speed prepared, But urged him with her bitter tongue, Like a good horse with lashes stung, She spoke her shameful speech. Serene He heard the fury of the queen, And to her words so vile and dread Gently, unmoved in mind, he said: "I would not in this world remain A grovelling thrall to paltry gain, But duty's path would fain pursue, True as the saints themselves are true. From death itself I would not fly My father's wish to gratify, What deed soe'er his loving son May do to please him, think it done. Amid all duties, Queen, I count This duty first and paramount, That sons, obedient, aye fulfil Their honoured fathers' word and will. Without his word, if thou decree, Forth to the forest will I flee, And there shall fourteen years be spent Mid lonely wilds in banishment. Methinks thou couldst not hope to find One spark of virtue in my mind, If thou, whose wish is still my lord, Hast for this grace the king implored. This day I go, but, ere we part, Must cheer my Sita's tender heart, To my dear mother bid farewell; Then to the woods, a while to dwell. With thee, O Queen, the care must rest That Bharat hear his sire's behest, And guard the land with righteous sway, For such the law that lives for aye."

The long-eyed lady ceased: she shed Pure scent and grain upon his head. And that prized herb whose sovereign power Preserves from dark misfortune's hour, Upon the hero's arm she set, To be his faithful amulet. While holy texts she murmured low, And spoke glad words though crushed by woe, Concealing with obedient tongue The pangs with which her heart was wrung. She bent, she kissed his brow, she pressed Her darling to her troubled breast: "Firm in thy purpose, go," she cried, "Go Rama, and may bliss betide. Attain returning safe and well, Triumphant in Ayodhya, dwell. Then shall my happy eyes behold The empire by thy will controlled. Then grief and care shall leave no trace, Joy shall light up thy mother's face, And I shall see my darling reign, In moonlike glory come again. These eyes shall fondly gaze on thee So faithful to thy sire's decree, When thou the forest wild shalt quit On thine ancestral throne to sit. Yea, thou shalt turn from exile back, Nor choicest blessings ever lack, Then fill with rapture ever new My bosom and thy consort's too. To Siva and the heavenly host My worship has been paid, To mighty saint, to godlike ghost, To every wandering shade. Forth to the forest thou wilt hie, Therein to dwell so long: Let all the quarters of the sky Protect my child from wrong." Her blessings thus the queen bestowed; Then round him fondly paced, And often, while her eyes o'erflowed, Her dearest son embraced. Kausalya's honoured feet he pressed, As round her steps she bent, And radiant with her prayers that blessed, To Sita's home he went.

Cast not away in hopeless strife Thy realm, thy bliss, thine own dear life. O Ravan of his might beware, A God of Death who will not spare. That bow he knows so well to draw Is the destroyer's flaming jaw, And with his shafts which flash and glow He slays the armies of the foe. Thou ne'er canst win--the thought forego-- From the safe guard of shaft and bow King Janak's child, the dear delight Of Rama unapproached in might. The spouse of Raghu's son, confessed Lion of men with lion chest,-- Dearer than life, through good and ill Devoted to her husband's will, The slender-waisted, still must be From thy polluting touches free. Far better grasp with venturous hand The flame to wildest fury fanned. What, King of giants, canst thou gain From this attempt so wild and vain? If in the fight his eye he bend Upon thee, Lord, thy days must end, So life and bliss and royal sway, Lost beyond hope, will pass away. Summon each lord of high estate, And chief, Vibhishan(490) to debate. With peers in lore of counsel tried Consider, reason, and decide Scan strength and weakness, count the cost, What may be gained and what be lost. Examine and compare aright Thy proper power and Rama's might, Then if thy weal be still thy care, Thou wilt be prudent and forbear. O giant King, the contest shun, Thy force is all too weak The lord of Kosal's mighty son In deadly fray to seek. King of the hosts that rove at night, O hear what I advise: My prudent counsel do not slight; Be patient and be wise."

King Dasaratha, lofty-souled, That city guarded and controlled, With towering Sal trees belted round,(65) And many a grove and pleasure ground, As royal Indra, throned on high, Rules his fair city in the sky.(66) She seems a painted city, fair With chess-board line and even square.(67) And cool boughs shade the lovely lake Where weary men their thirst may slake. There gilded chariots gleam and shine, And stately piles the Gods enshrine. There gay sleek people ever throng To festival and dance and song. A mine is she of gems and sheen, The darling home of Fortune's Queen. With noblest sort of drink and meat, The fairest rice and golden wheat, And fragrant with the chaplet's scent With holy oil and incense blent. With many an elephant and steed, And wains for draught and cars for speed. With envoys sent by distant kings, And merchants with their precious things With banners o'er her roofs that play, And weapons that a hundred slay;(68) All warlike engines framed by man, And every class of artisan. A city rich beyond compare With bards and minstrels gathered there, And men and damsels who entrance The soul with play and song and dance. In every street is heard the lute, The drum, the tabret, and the flute, The Veda chanted soft and low, The ringing of the archer's bow; With bands of godlike heroes skilled In every warlike weapon, filled, And kept by warriors from the foe, As Nagas guard their home below.(69) There wisest Brahmans evermore The flame of worship feed, And versed in all the Vedas' lore, Their lives of virtue lead. Truthful and pure, they freely give; They keep each sense controlled, And in their holy fervour live Like the great saints of old.

"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."

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.

And let not wish or wrath excite Your hearts the meanest guest to slight; But still observe with special grace Those who obtain the foremost place, Whether for happier skill in art Or bearing in the rite their part. Do you, I pray, with friendly mind Perform the task to you assigned, And work the rite, as bids the law, Without omission, slip, or flaw" They answered: "As thou seest fit So will we do and naught omit." The sage Vasistha then addressed Sumantra called at his behest: "The princes of the earth invite, And famous lords who guard the rite, Priest, Warrior, Merchant, lowly thrall, In countless thousands summon all. Where'er their home be, far or near, Gather the good with honour here, And Janak, whose imperial sway The men of Mithila(87) obey. The firm of vow, the dread of foes, Who all the lore of Scripture knows, Invite him here with honour high, King Dasaratha's old ally. And Kasi's(88) lord of gentle speech, Who finds a pleasant word for each, In length of days our monarch's peer, Illustrious king, invite him here. The father of our ruler's bride, Known for his virtues far and wide, The king whom Kekaya's(89) realms obey, Him with his son invite, I pray. And Lomapad the Angas' king, True to his vows and godlike, bring. For be thine invitations sent To west and south and orient. Call those who rule Surashtra's(90) land, Suvira's(91) realm and Sindhu's strand, And all the kings of earth beside In friendship's bonds with us allied: Invite them all to hasten in With retinue and kith and kin." Vasishtha's speech without delay Sumantra bent him to obey. And sent his trusty envoys forth Eastward and westward, south and north. Obedient to the saint's request Himself he hurried forth, and pressed Each nobler chief and lord and king To hasten to the gathering.

Soon as each babe was twelve days old 'Twas time the naming rite to hold. When Saint Vasishtha, rapt with joy, Assigned a name to every boy. Rama, to him the high-souled heir, Bharat, to him Kaikeyi bare: Of Queen Sumitra one fair son Was Lakshman, and Satrughna(136) one Rama, his sire's supreme delight, Like some proud banner cheered his sight, And to all creatures seemed to be The self-existent deity. All heroes, versed in holy lore, To all mankind great love they bore. Fair stores of wisdom all possessed, With princely graces all were blest. But mid those youths of high descent, With lordly light preeminent. Like the full moon unclouded, shone Rama, the world's dear paragon. He best the elephant could guide.(137) Urge the fleet car, the charger ride: A master he of bowman's skill, Joying to do his father's will. The world's delight and darling, he Loved Lakshman best from infancy And Lakshman, lord of lofty fate, Upon his elder joyed to wait, Striving his second self to please With friendship's sweet observances. His limbs the hero ne'er would rest Unless the couch his brother pressed; Except beloved Rama shared He could not taste the meal prepared. When Rama, pride of Reghu's race, Sprang on his steed to urge the chase, Behind him Lakshman loved to go And guard him with his trusty bow. As Rama was to Lakshman dear More than his life and ever near, So fond Satrughna prized above His very life his Bharat's love. Illustrious heroes, nobly kind In mutual love they all combined, And gave their royal sire delight With modest grace and warrior might: Supported by the glorious four Shone Dasaratha more and more, As though, with every guardian God Who keeps the land and skies, The Father of all creatures trod The earth before men's eyes.

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."

With ample stores of food supplied, Each to his home the envoys hied, Prepared, with steeds of swiftest race, To Kekaya's land(340) their way to trace. They made all due provision there, And every need arranged with care, Then ordered by Vasishtha, they Went forth with speed upon their way. Then northward of Pralamba, west Of Apartala, on they pressed, Crossing the Malini that flowed With gentle stream athwart the road. They traversed Ganga's holy waves Where she Hastinapura(341) laves, Thence to Panchala(342) westward fast Through Kurujangal's land(343) they passed. On, on their course the envoys held By urgency of task impelled. Quick glancing at each lucid flood And sweet lake gay with flower and bud. Beyond, they passed unwearied o'er, Where glad birds fill the flood and shore Of Saradanda racing fleet With heavenly water clear and sweet, Thereby a tree celestial grows Which every boon on prayer bestows: To its blest shade they humbly bent, Then to Kulinga's town they went. Then, having passed the Warrior's Wood, In Abhikala next they stood, O'er sacred Ikshumati(344) came, Their ancient kings' ancestral claim. They saw the learned Brahmans stand, Each drinking from his hollowed hand, And through Bahika(345) journeying still They reached at length Sudaman's hill: There Vishnu's footstep turned to see, Vipasa(346) viewed, and Salmali, And many a lake and river met, Tank, pool, and pond, and rivulet. And lions saw, and tigers near, And elephants and herds of deer, And still, by prompt obedience led, Along the ample road they sped. Then when their course so swift and long, Had worn their steeds though fleet and strong, To Girivraja's splendid town They came by night, and lighted down. To please their master, and to guard The royal race, the lineal right, The envoys, spent with riding hard, To that fair city came by night.(347)

"Thou, worst of giant blood, at length Hast shown the utmost of thy strength, And forced by greater might to bow, Thy vaunting threats are idle now. My shafts have cut thy club in twain: Useless it lies upon the plain, And all thy pride and haughty trust Lie with it levelled in the dust. The words that thou hast said to-day, That thou wouldst wipe the tears away Of all the giants I have slain, My deeds shall render void and vain. Thou meanest of the giants' breed, Evil in thought and word and deed, My hand shall take that life of thine As Garud(476) seized the juice divine. Thou, rent by shafts, this day shalt die: Low on the ground thy corse shall lie, And bubbles from the cloven neck With froth and blood thy skin shall deck. With dust and mire all rudely dyed, Thy torn arms lying by thy side, While streams of blood each limb shall steep, Thou on earth's breast shalt take thy sleep Like a fond lover when he strains The beauty whom at length he gains. Now when thy heavy eyelids close For ever in thy deep repose, Again shall Dandak forest be Safe refuge for the devotee. Thou slain, and all thy race who held The realm of Janasthan expelled, Again shall happy hermits rove, Fearing no danger, through the grove. Within those bounds, their brethren slain, No giant shall this day remain, But all shall fly with many a tear And fearing, rid the saints of fear. This bitter day shall misery bring On all the race that calls thee king. Fierce as their lord, thy dames shall know, Bereft of joys, the taste of woe. Base, cruel wretch, of evil mind, Plaguer of Brahmans and mankind, With trembling hands each devotee Feeds holy fires in dread of thee."

When Rama saw the vulture lie, Huge as a hill, with darksome eye, With many a poignant woe distressed His brother chief he thus addressed: "Amid these haunted shades content Full many a year this bird has spent. His life in home of giants passed, In Dandak wood he dies at last. The years in lengthened course have fled Untroubled o'er the vulture's head, And now he lies in death, for none The stern decrees of Fate may shun. See, Lakshman, how the vulture fell While for my sake he battled well. And strove to free with onset bold My Sita from the giant's hold. Supreme amid the vulture kind His ancient rule the bird resigned, And conquered in the fruitless strife Gave for my sake his noble life. O Lakshman, many a time we see Great souls who keep the law's decree, With whom the weak sure refuge find, In creatures of inferior kind. The loss of her, my darling queen, Strikes with a pang less fiercely keen Than now this slaughtered bird to see Who nobly fought and died for me. As Dasaratha, good and great, Was glorious in his high estate, Honoured by all, to all endeared, So was this royal bird revered. Bring fuel for the funeral rite: These hands the solemn fire shall light And on the burning pyre shall lay The bird who died for me to-day. Now on the gathered wood shall lie The lord of all the birds that fly, And I will burn with honours due My champion whom the giant slew. O royal bird of noblest heart, Graced with all funeral rites depart To bright celestial seats above, Rewarded for thy faithful love. Dwell in thy happy home with those Whose constant fires of worship rose. Live blest amid the unyielding brave, And those who land in largess gave."

Thus in the presence of the priest The royal Janak spoke, and ceased. Then came his henchmen, prompt and brave, To whom his charge the monarch gave. Soon as they heard his will, in haste With fleetest steeds away they raced, To lead with them that lord of kings, As Indra's call Lord Vishnu brings. Sankasya's walls they duly gained, And audience of the king obtained. To him they told the news they brought Of marvels past and Janak's thought. Soon as the king the story knew From those good envoys swift and true, To Janak's wish he gave assent, And swift to Mithila he went. He paid to Janak reverence due, And holy Satananda too, Then sate him on a glorious seat For kings or Gods celestial meet. Soon as the brothers, noble pair Peerless in might, were seated there, They gave the wise Sudaman, best Of councillors, their high behest: "Go, noble councillor," they cried, "And hither to our presence guide Ikshvaku's son, Ayodhya's lord, Invincible by foeman's sword, With both his sons, each holy seer, And every minister and peer." Sudaman to the palace flew, And saw the mighty king who threw Splendour on Raghu's splendid race, Then bowed his head with seemly grace: "O King, whose hand Ayodhya sways, My lord, whom Mithila obeys, Yearns with desire, if thou agree, Thee with thy guide and priest to see." Soon as the councillor had ceased, The king, with saint and peer and priest, Sought, speeding through the palace gate, The hall where Janak held his state. There, with his nobles round him spread, Thus to Videha's lord be said: "Thou knowest, King, whose aid divine Protects Ikshvaku's royal line. In every need, whate'er befall, The saint Vasishtha speaks for all. If Visvamitra so allow, And all the saints around me now, The sage will speak, at my desire, As order and the truth require."

"Bring all thy host," the hermit cried, And Bharat, to his joy, complied. Then to the chapel went the sire, Where ever burnt the sacred fire, And first, in order due, with sips Of water purified his lips: To Visvakarma, then he prayed, His hospitable feast to aid: "Let Visvakarma hear my call, The God who forms and fashions all: A mighty banquet I provide, Be all my wants this day supplied. Lord Indra at their head, the three(365) Who guard the worlds I call to me: A mighty host this day I feed, Be now supplied my every need. Let all the streams that eastward go, And those whose waters westering flow, Both on the earth and in the sky, Flow hither and my wants supply. Be some with ardent liquor filled, And some with wine from flowers distilled, While some their fresh cool streams retain Sweet as the juice of sugar-cane. I call the Gods, I call the band Of minstrels that around them stand: I call the Haha and Huhu, I call the sweet Visvavasu, I call the heavenly wives of these With all the bright Apsarases, Alambusha of beauty rare, The charmer of the tangled hair, Ghritachi and Visvachi fair, Hema and Bhima sweet to view, And lovely Nagadanta too, And all the sweetest nymphs who stand By Indra or by Brahma's hand-- I summon these with all their train And Tumburu to lead the strain. Here let Kuvera's garden rise Which far in Northern Kuru(366) lies: For leaves let cloth and gems entwine, And let its fruit be nymphs divine. Let Soma(367) give the noblest food To feed the mighty multitude, Of every kind, for tooth and lip, To chew, to lick, to suck, and sip. Let wreaths, where fairest flowers abound, Spring from the trees that bloom around. Each sort of wine to woo the taste, And meats of every kind be placed."

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.

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.

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!"

The prince of men a league away Saw where the hermit's dwelling lay, Then with his lords his path pursued, And left his warrior multitude. On foot, as duty taught his mind, He left his warlike gear behind; Two robes of linen cloth he wore, And bade Vasishtha walk before. Then Bharat from his lords withdrew When Bharadvaja came in view, And toward the holy hermit went Behind Vasishtha, reverent. When Bharadvaja, saint austere, Saw good Vasishtha drawing near, He cried, upspringing from his seat, "The grace-gift bring, my friend to greet." When Saint Vasishtha near him drew, And Bharat paid the reverence due, The glorious hermit was aware That Dasaratha's son was there. The grace-gift, water for their feet He gave, and offered fruit to eat; Then, duty-skilled, with friendly speech In seemly order questioned each: "How fares it in Ayodhya now With treasury and army? how With kith and kin and friends most dear, With councillor, and prince, and peer?" But, for he knew the king was dead, Of Dasaratha naught he said. Vasishtha and the prince in turn Would of the hermit's welfare learn: Of holy fires they fain would hear, Of pupils, trees, and birds, and deer. The glorious saint his answer made That all was well in holy shade: Then love of Rama moved his breast, And thus he questioned of his guest: "Why art thou here, O Prince, whose band With kingly sway protects the land? Declare the cause, explain the whole, For yet some doubt disturbs my soul. He whom Kausalya bare, whose might The foemen slays, his line's delight, He who with wife and brother sent Afar now roam in banishment, Famed prince, to whom his father spake This order for a woman's sake: "Away! and in the forest spend Thy life till fourteen years shall end"-- Has thou the wish to harm him, bent On sin against the innocent? Wouldst thou thine elder's realm enjoy Without a thorn that can annoy?"

When Anasuya, virtuous-souled, Had heard the tale by Sita told, She kissed the lady's brow and laced Her loving arms around her waist. "With sweet-toned words distinct and clear Thy pleasant tale has charmed mine ear, How the great king thy father held That Maiden's Choice unparalleled. But now the sun has sunk from sight, And left the world to holy Night. Hark! how the leafy thickets sound With gathering birds that twitter round: They sought their food by day, and all Flock homeward when the shadows fall. See, hither comes the hermit band, Each with his pitcher in his hand: Fresh from the bath, their locks are wet, Their coats of bark are dripping yet. Here saints their fires of worship tend, And curling wreaths of smoke ascend: Borne on the flames they mount above, Dark as the brown wings of the dove. The distant trees, though well-nigh bare, Gloom thickened by the evening air, And in the faint uncertain light Shut the horizon from our sight. The beasts that prowl in darkness rove On every side about the grove, And the tame deer, at ease reclined Their shelter near the altars find. The night o'er all the sky is spread, With lunar stars engarlanded, And risen in his robes of light The moon is beautifully bright. Now to thy lord I bid thee go: Thy pleasant tale has charmed me so: One thing alone I needs must pray, Before me first thyself array: Here in thy heavenly raiment shine, And glad, dear love, these eyes of mine." Then like a heavenly Goddess shone Fair Sita with that raiment on. She bowed her to the matron's feet, Then turned away her lord to meet. The hero prince with joy surveyed His Sita in her robes arrayed, As glorious to his arms she came With love-gifts of the saintly dame. She told him how the saint to show Her fond affection would bestow That garland of celestial twine, Those ornaments and robes divine.

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

"Here, surely, is the home, in sight, Of that illustrious anchorite: Here great Agastya's brother leads A life intent on holy deeds. Warned of each guiding mark and sign, I see them all herein combine: I see the branches bending low Beneath the flowers and fruit they show. A soft air from the forest springs, Fresh from the odorous grass, and brings A spicy fragrance as it flees O'er the ripe fruit of Pippal trees. See, here and there around us high Piled up in heaps cleft billets lie, And holy grass is gathered, bright As strips of shining lazulite. Full in the centre of the shade The hermits' holy fire is laid: I see its smoke the pure heaven streak Dense as a big cloud's dusky peak. The twice-born men their steps retrace From each sequestered bathing-place, And each his sacred gift has brought Of blossoms which his hands have sought. Of all these signs, dear brother, each Agrees with good Sutikshna's speech, And doubtless in this holy bound Agastya's brother will be found. Agastya once, the worlds who viewed With love, a Deathlike fiend subdued, And armed with mighty power, obtained By holy works, this grove ordained To be a refuge and defence From all oppressors' violence. In days of yore within this place Two brothers fierce of demon race, Vatapi dire and Ilval, dwelt, And slaughter mid the Brahmans dealt. A Brahman's form, the fiend to cloak, Fierce Ilval wore, and Sanskrit spoke, And twice-born sages would invite To solemnize some funeral rite. His brother's flesh, concealed within A ram's false shape and borrowed skin,-- As men are wont at funeral feasts,-- He dressed and fed those gathered priests. The holy men, unweeting ill, Took of the food and ate their fill. Then Ilval with a mighty shout Exclaimed "Vatapi, issue out." Soon as his brother's voice he heard, The fiend with ram-like bleating stirred: Rending in pieces every frame, Forth from the dying priests he came.

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

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.

Then Bali, wounded and enraged, With furious blows the battle waged. Sugriva seemed, with blood-streams dyed, A hill with fountains in his side. But with his native force unspent A Sal tree from the earth he rent, And like the bolt of Indra smote On Bali's head and chest and throat. Bruised by the blows he could not shield, Half vanquished Bali sank and reeled, As sinks a vessel with her freight Borne down by overwhelming weight. Swift as Suparna's(582) swiftest flight In awful strength they rushed to fight: So might the sun and moon on high Encountering battle in the sky. Fierce and more fierce, as fought the foes, The furious rage of combat rose. They warred with feet and arms and knees, With nails and stones and boughs and trees, And blows descending fast as rain Dyed each dark form with crimson stain, While like two thunder-clouds they met With battle-cry and shout and threat. Then Rama saw Sugriva quail, Marked his worn strength grow weak and fail. Saw how he turned his wistful eye To every quarter of the sky. His friend's defeat he could not brook, Bent on his shaft an eager look, Then burned to slay the conquering foe, And laid his arrow on the bow. As to an orb the bow he drew Forth from the string the arrow flew Like Fate's tremendous discus hurled By Yama(583) forth to end the world. So loud the din that every bird The bow-string's clans with terror heard, And wildly fled the affrighted deer As though the day of doom were near. So, deadly as the serpent's fang, Forth from the string the arrow sprang. Like the red lightning's flash and flame It flew unerring to its aim, And, hissing murder through the air, Pierced Bali's breast, and quivered there. Struck by the shaft that flew so well The mighty Vanar reeled and fell, As earthward Indra's flag they pull When Asvini's fair moon is full.(584)

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.

When Rama saw each bloody trace On King Sugriva's limbs and face, He cried, while, sorrowing at the view, His arms about his friend he threw: "Too venturous chieftain, kings like us Bring not their lives in peril thus; Nor, save when counsel shows the need, Attempt so bold, so rash a deed. Remember, I, Vibhishan all Have sorrowed fearing for thy fall. O do not--for us all I speak-- These desperate adventures seek." "I could not," cried Sugriva, "brook Upon the giant king to look, Nor challenge to the deadly strife The fiend who robbed thee of thy wife." "Now Lakshman, marshal," Rama cried, "Our legions where the woods are wide, And stand we ready to oppose The fury of our giant foes. This day our armies shall ascend The walls which Ravan's powers defend, And floods of Rakshas blood shall stain The streets encumbered with the slain." Down from the peak he came, and viewed The Vanars' ordered multitude. Each captain there for battle burned, Each fiery eye to Lanka turned. On, where the royal brothers led To Lanka's walls the legions sped. The northern gate, where giant foes Swarmed round their monarch, Rama chose Where he in person might direct The battle, and his troops protect. What arm but his the post might keep Where, strong as he who sways the deep,(949) Mid thousands armed with bow and mace, Stood Ravan mightiest of his race? The eastern gate was Nila's post, Where marshalled stood his Vanar host, And Mainda with his troops arrayed, And Dwivid stood to lend him aid. The southern gate was Angad's care, Who ranged his bold battalions there. Hanuman by the port that faced The setting sun his legions placed, And King Sugriva held the wood East of the gate where Ravan stood. On every side the myriads met, And Lanka's walls of close beset That scarce the roving gale could win A passage to the hosts within.

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

He gazed upon that sight he ne'er Had seen before, of girls so fair, And out of love a longing rose His sire and lineage to disclose: "My father," thus he made reply, "Is Kasyap's son, a saint most high, Vibhandak styled; from him I came, And Rishyasring he calls my name. Our hermit cot is near this place: Come thither, O ye fair of face; There be it mine, with honour due, Ye gentle youths, to welcome you." They heard his speech, and gave consent, And gladly to his cottage went. Vibhandak's son received them well Beneath the shelter of his cell With guest-gift, water for their feet, And woodland fruit and roots to eat, They smiled, and spoke sweet words like these, Delighted with his courtesies: "We too have goodly fruit in store, Grown on the trees that shade our door; Come, if thou wilt, kind Hermit, haste The produce of our grove to taste; And let, O good Ascetic, first This holy water quench thy thirst." They spoke, and gave him comfits sweet Prepared ripe fruits to counterfeit; And many a dainty cate beside And luscious mead their stores supplied. The seeming fruits, in taste and look, The unsuspecting hermit took, For, strange to him, their form beguiled The dweller in the lonely wild. Then round his neck fair arms were flung, And there the laughing damsels clung, And pressing nearer and more near With sweet lips whispered at his ear; While rounded limb and swelling breast The youthful hermit softly pressed. The pleasing charm of that strange bowl, The touch of a tender limb, Over his yielding spirit stole And sweetly vanquished him. But vows, they said, must now be paid; They bade the boy farewell, And, of the aged saint afraid, Prepared to leave the dell. With ready guile they told him where Their hermit dwelling lay: Then, lest the sire should find them there, Sped by wild paths away. They fled and left him there alone By longing love possessed; And with a heart no more his own He roamed about distressed.

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."

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

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

As thus he sadly mourned and sighed, The son of Dasaratha spied A bower of leafy branches made, Sacred and lovely in the shade, Of fair proportions large and tall, Well roofed with boughs of palm, and Sal, Arranged in order due o'erhead Like grass upon an altar spread. Two glorious bows were gleaming there, Like Indra's(377) in the rainy air, Terror of foemen, backed with gold, Meet for the mightiest hand to hold: And quivered arrows cast a blaze Bright gleaming like the Day-God's rays: Thus serpents with their eyes aglow Adorn their capital below.(378) Great swords adorned the cottage, laid Each in a case of gold brocade; There hung the trusty shields, whereon With purest gold the bosses shone. The brace to bind the bowman's arm, The glove to shield his hand from harm, A lustre to the cottage lent From many a golden ornament: Safe was the cot from fear of men As from wild beasts the lion's den. The fire upon the altar burned, That to the north and east was turned. Bharat his eager glances bent And gazed within the cot intent; In deerskin dress, with matted hair, Rama his chief was sitting there: With lion-shoulders broad and strong, With lotus eyes, arms thick and long. The righteous sovereign, who should be Lord paramount from sea to sea, High-minded, born to lofty fate, Like Brahma's self supremely great; With Lakshman by his side, and her, Fair Sita, for his minister. And Bharat gazing, overcome By sorrow for a while was dumb, Then, yielding to his woe, he ran To Rama and with sobs began: "He who a royal seat should fill With subjects round to do his will, My elder brother,--see him here, With silvan creatures waiting near. The high-souled hero, wont to wear The costliest robes exceeding fair, Now banished, in a deerskin dress, Here keeps the path of righteousness. How brooks the son of Raghu now The matted locks which load his brow, Around whose princely head were twined Sweet blossoms of the rarest kind?

Truth, only truth protects the land, By truth unharmed our houses stand; Neglect of truth makes men distressed, And truth in highest heaven is blessed. Then how can I, rebellious, break Commandments which my father spake-- I ever true and faithful found, And by my word of honour bound? My father's bridge of truth shall stand Unharmed by my destructive hand: Not folly, ignorance, or greed My darkened soul shall thus mislead. Have we not heard that God and shade Turn from the hated offerings paid By him whose false and fickle mind No pledge can hold, no promise bind? Truth is all duty: as the soul, It quickens and supports the whole. The good respect this duty: hence Its sacred claims I reverence. The Warrior's duty I despise That seeks the wrong in virtue's guise: Those claims I shrink from, which the base, Cruel, and covetous embrace. The heart conceives the guilty thought, Then by the hand the sin is wrought, And with the pair is leagued a third, The tongue that speaks the lying word. Fortune and land and name and fame To man's best care have right and claim; The good will aye to truth adhere, And its high laws must men revere. Base were the deed thy lips would teach, Approved as best by subtle speech. Shall I my plighted promise break, That I these woods my home would make? Shall I, as Bharat's words advise, My father's solemn charge despise? Firm stands the oath which then before My father's face I soothly swore, Which Queen Kaikeyi's anxious ear Rejoiced with highest joy to hear. Still in the wood will I remain, With food prescribed my life sustain, And please with fruit and roots and flowers Ancestral shades and heavenly powers. Here every sense contented, still Heeding the bounds of good and ill, My settled course will I pursue, Firm in my faith and ever true. Here in this wild and far retreat Will I my noble task complete; And Fire and Wind and Moon shall be Partakers of its fruit with me.

Blest by the sage, when Raghu's son His onward journey had begun, Thus in her soft tone Sita, meek With modest fear, began to speak: "One little slip the great may lead To shame that follows lawless deed: Such shame, my lord, as still must cling To faults from low desire that spring. Three several sins defile the soul, Born of desire that spurns control: First, utterance of a lying word, Then, viler both, the next, and third: The lawless love of other's wife, The thirst of blood uncaused by strife. The first, O Raghu's son, in thee None yet has found, none e'er shall see. Love of another's dame destroys All merit, lost for guilty joys: Rama, such crime in thee, I ween, Has ne'er been found, shall ne'er be seen: The very thought, my princely lord, Is in thy secret soul abhorred. For thou hast ever been the same Fond lover of thine own dear dame, Content with faithful heart to do Thy father's will, most just and true: Justice, and faith, and many a grace In thee have found a resting-place. Such virtues, Prince, the good may gain Who empire o'er each sense retain; And well canst thou, with loving view Regarding all, each sense subdue. But for the third, the lust that strives, Insatiate still, for others' lives,-- Fond thirst of blood where hate is none,-- This, O my lord, thou wilt not shun. Thou hast but now a promise made, The saints of Dandak wood to aid: And to protect their lives from ill The giants' blood in tight wilt spill: And from thy promise lasting fame Will glorify the forest's name. Armed with thy bow and arrows thou Forth with thy brother journeyest now, While as I think how true thou art Fears for thy bliss assail my heart, And all my spirit at the sight Is troubled with a strange affright. I like it not--it seems not good-- Thy going thus to Dandak wood: And I, if thou wilt mark me well, The reason of my fear will tell.

"How soft the leaves of every tree, How tame each bird and beast we see! Soon the fair home shall we behold Of that great hermit tranquil-souled. The deed the good Agastya wrought High fame throughout the world has bought: I see, I see his calm retreat That balms the pain of weary feet. Where white clouds rise from flames beneath, Where bark-coats lie with many a wreath, Where silvan things, made gentle, throng, And every bird is loud in song. With ruth for suffering creatures filled, A deathlike fiend with might he killed, And gave this southern realm to be A refuge, from oppression free. There stands his home, whose dreaded might Has put the giant crew to flight, Who view with envious eyes afar The peaceful shades they cannot mar. Since that most holy saint has made His dwelling in this lovely shade, Checked by his might the giant brood Have dwelt in peace with souls subdued. And all this southern realm, within Whose bounds no fiend may entrance win, Now bears a name which naught may dim, Made glorious through the worlds by him. When Vindhya, best of hills, would stay The journey of the Lord of Day, Obedient to the saint's behest He bowed for aye his humbled crest. That hoary hermit, world-renowned For holy deeds, within this ground Has set his pure and blessed home, Where gentle silvan creatures roam. Agastya, whom the worlds revere, Pure saint to whom the good are dear, To us his guests all grace will show, Enriched with blessings ere we go. I to this aim each thought will turn, The favour of the saint to earn, That here in comfort may be spent The last years of our banishment. Here sanctities and high saints stand, Gods, minstrels of the heavenly band; Upon Agastya's will they wait, And serve him, pure and temperate. The liar's tongue, the tyrant's mind Within these bounds no home may find: No cheat, no sinner here can be: So holy and so good is he.

With ruddy streams each limb was dyed From gaping wounds in breast and side, Showing the hero like the sun 'Mid crimson clouds ere day is done. Then, at that sight of terror, faint Grew God, Gandharva, sage, and saint, Trembling to see the prince oppose His single might to myriad foes. But waxing wroth, with force unspent, He strained his bow to utmost bent, And forth his arrows keen and true In hundreds, yea in thousands flew,-- Shafts none could ward, and none endure: Death's fatal noose was scarce so sure. As 'twere in playful ease he shot His gilded shafts, and rested not. With swiftest flight and truest aim Upon the giant hosts they came. Each smote, each stayed a foeman's breath As fatal as the coil of Death. Each arrow through a giant tore A passage, and besmeared with gore, Pursued its onward way and through The air with flamy brilliance flew. Unnumbered were the arrows sent From the great bow which Rama bent, And every shaft with iron head The lifeblood of a giant shed. Their pennoned bows were cleft, nor mail Nor shield of hide could aught avail. For Rama's myriad arrows tore Through arms, and bracelets which they wore, And severed mighty warriors' thighs Like trunks of elephants in size, And cut resistless passage sheer Through gold-decked horse and charioteer, Slew elephant and rider, slew The horseman and the charger too, And infantry unnumbered sent To dwell 'neath Yama's government. Then rose on high a fearful yell Of rovers of the night, who fell Beneath that iron torrent, sore Wounded by shafts that rent and tore. So mangled by the ceaseless storm Of shafts of every kind and form, Such joy they found, as forests feel When scorched by flame, from Rama's steel. The mightiest still the fight maintained, And furious upon Rama rained Dart, arrow, spear, with wild attacks Of mace, and club, and battle-axe. But the great chief, unconquered yet, Their weapons with his arrows met, Which severed many a giant's head, And all the plain with corpses spread.

"O hermits, blest in vows, who shine Like royal saints or Gods divine, O best of young ascetics, say How to this spot you found your way, Scaring the troops of wandering deer And silvan things that harbour here Searching amid the trees that grow Where Pampa's gentle waters flow. And lending from your brows a gleam Of glory to the lovely stream. Who are you, say, so brave and fair, Clad in the bark which hermits wear? I see you heave the frequent sigh, I see the deer before you fly. While you, for strength and valour dread, The earth, like lordly lions, tread, Each bearing in his hand a bow, Like Indra's own, to slay the foe. With the grand paces of a bull, So bright and young and beautiful. The mighty arms you raise appear Like trunks which elephants uprear, And as you move this mountain-king(543) Is glorious with the light you bring. How have you reached, like Gods in face, Best lords of earth, this lonely place, With tresses coiled in hermit guise,(544) And splendours of those lotus eyes? As Gods who leave their heavenly sphere, Alike your beauteous forms appear. The Lords of Day and Night(545) might thus Stray from the skies to visit us. Heroic youth, so broad of chest, Fair with the beauty of the Blest, With lion shoulders, tall and strong, Like bulls who lead the lowing throng, Your arms, unmatched for grace and length, With massive clubs may vie in strength. Why do no gauds those limbs adorn Where priceless gems were meetly worn? Each noble youth is fit, I deem, To guard this earth, as lord supreme, With all her woods and seas, to reign From Meru's peak to Vindhya's chain. Your smooth bows decked with dyes and gold Are glorious in their masters' hold, And with the arms of Indra(546) vie Which diamond splendours beautify. Your quivers glow with golden sheen, Well stored with arrows fleet and keen, Each gleaming like a fiery snake That joys the foeman's life to take.

she Finds no protection, lord, from thee, Neglected like some noble dame By a vile husband dead to shame. Mean-hearted coward, false and vile, Whose cruel soul delights in guile, Could Dasaratha, noblest king, Beget so mean and base a thing? Alas! an elephant, in form Of Rama, in a maddening storm Of passion casting to the ground The girth of law(592) that clipped him round, Too wildly passionate to feel The prick of duty's guiding steel,(593) Has charged me unawares, and dead I fall beneath his murderous tread. How, stained with this my base defeat, How wilt thou dare, where good men meet, To speak, when every tongue will blame With keen reproach this deed of shame? Such hero strength and valour, shown Upon the innocent alone, Thou hast not proved in manly strife On him who robbed thee of thy wife. Hadst thou but fought in open field And met me boldly unconcealed, This day had been thy fate to fall, Slain by this hand, to Yama's hall. In vain I strove, and struck by thee Fell by a hand I could not see. Thus bites a snake, for sins of yore, A sleeping man who wakes no more. Sugriva's foeman thou hast killed, And thus his heart's desire fulfilled; But, Rama, hadst thou sought me first, And told the hope thy soul has nursed, That very day had I restored The Maithil lady to her lord; And, binding Ravan with a chain, Had laid him at thy feet unslain. Yea, were she sunk in deepest hell, Or whelmed beneath the ocean's swell, I would have followed on her track And brought the rescued lady back, As Hayagriva(594) once set free From hell the white Asvatari.(595) That when my spirit wings its flight Sugriva reign, is just and right. But most unjust, O King, that I, Slain by thy treacherous hand, should lie. Be still, my heart: this earthly state Is darkly ruled by sovereign Fate. The realm is lost and won: defy Thy questioners with apt reply."(596)

There breathing still with slow faint sighs Lay Bali on the ground: his eyes, Damp with the tears of death, he raised, On conquering Sugriva gazed, And then in clearest speech expressed The tender feelings of his breast: "Not to my charge, Sugriva, lay Thine injuries avenged to-day; But rather blame resistless Fate That urged me on infuriate. Fate ne'er agreed our lives to bless With simultaneous happiness: To dwell like brothers side by side In tender love was still denied. The Vanars' realm is thine to-day: Begin, O King, thy rightful sway;(604) For I must go at Yama's call To sojourn in his gloomy hall; Must part and leave this very hour My life, my realm, my kingly power, And go instead of these to gain Bright glory free from spot and stain. Now at thy hands one boon I seek With the last words my lips shall speak, And, though it be no easy thing, Perform the task I give thee, King. This son of mine, no foolish boy, Worthy of bliss and nursed in joy,-- See, prostrate on the ground he lies, The hot tears welling from his eyes-- The child I love so well, more sweet Than life itself, for woe unmeet,-- To him be kindly favour shown: O guard and keep him as thine own. Retain him ever by thy side, His father, helper, friend, and guide. From fear and woe his young life save, And give him all his father gave. Then Tara's son in time shall be Brave, resolute, and famed like thee, And march before thee to the fight Where stricken fiends shall own his might. While yet a tender stripling, fame Shall bruit abroad his warrior name, And brightly shall his glory shine For exploits worthy of his line. Child of Sushen,(605) my Tara well Obscurest lore can read and tell; And, trained in wondrous art, divines Each mystery of boding signs. Her solemn warning ne'er despise, Do boldly what her lips advise; For things to come her eye can see, And with her words events agree.

But Hanuman still onward pressed With Tara, Angad, and the rest, Through Vindhya's pathless glens he sped And left no spot unvisited. He gazed from every mountain height, He sought each cavern dark as night, And wandered through the bloomy shade By pool and river and cascade, But, though they sought in every place, Of Sita yet they found no trace. On fruit and woodland berries fed Through many a lonely wild they sped, And reached at last, untouched by fear, A desert terrible and drear: A fruitless waste, a land of gloom Where trees were bare of leaf and bloom, Where every scanty stream was dried, And niggard earth her roots denied. No elephants through all the ground, No buffaloes or deer are found. There roams no tiger, pard, or bear, No creature of the wood is there. No bird displays his glittering wings, No tree, no shrub, no creeper springs. There rise no lilies from the flood, Resplendent with their flower and bud, Where the delighted bees may throng About the fragrance with their song. There lived a hermit Kandu named, For truth and wealth of penance famed. Whom fervent zeal and holy rite Had dowered with all-surpassing might. His little son, a ten year child-- So chanced it--perished in the wild. His death with fury stirred the sage, Who cursed the forest in his rage, Doomed from that hour to shelter none, A waste for bird and beast to shun. They searched by every forest edge, They searched each cave and mountain ledge, And thickets whence the water fell Wandering through the tangled dell. Striving to do Sugriva's will They roamed along each leafy rill. But vain were all endeavours, vain The careful search, the toil and pain. Through one dark grove they scarce could wind, So thick were creepers intertwined. There as they struggled through the wood Before their eyes an Asur(750) stood. High as a towering hill, his pride The very Gods in heaven defied. When on the fiend their glances fell Each braced him for the combat well.

The hermit heard with high content That speech so wondrous eloquent, And while each hair with joy arose,(142) He thus made answer at the close: "Good is thy speech O noble King, And like thyself in everything. So should their lips be wisdom-fraught Whom kings begot, Vasishtha taught. The favour which I came to seek Thou grantest ere my tongue can speak. But let my tale attention claim, And hear the need for which I came. O King, as Scripture texts allow, A holy rite employs me now. Two fiends who change their forms at will Impede that rite with cursed skill.(143) Oft when the task is nigh complete, These worst of fiends my toil defeat, Throw bits of bleeding flesh, and o'er The altar shed a stream of gore. When thus the rite is mocked and stayed, And all my pious hopes delayed, Cast down in heart the spot I leave, And spent with fruitless labour grieve. Nor can I, checked by prudence, dare Let loose my fury on them there: The muttered curse, the threatening word, In such a rite must ne'er be heard. Thy grace the rite from check can free. And yield the fruit I long to see. Thy duty bids thee, King, defend The suffering guest, the suppliant friend. Give me thy son, thine eldest born, Whom locks like raven's wings adorn. That hero youth, the truly brave, Of thee, O glorious King, I crave. For he can lay those demons low Who mar my rites and work me woe: My power shall shield the youth from harm, And heavenly might shall nerve his arm. And on my champion will I shower Unnumbered gifts of varied power, Such gifts as shall ensure his fame And spread through all the worlds his name. Be sure those fiends can never stand Before the might of Rama's hand, And mid the best and bravest none Can slay that pair but Raghu's son. Entangled in the toils of Fate Those sinners, proud and obstinate, Are, in their fury overbold, No match for Rama mighty-souled. Nor let a father's breast give way Too far to fond affection's sway.