Ramayana on The Soul

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

Sore grief upon his bosom weighed As on the pyre the bird he laid, And bade the kindled flame ascend To burn the body of his friend. Then with his brother by his side The hero to the forest hied. There many a stately deer he slew, The flesh around the bird to strew. The venison into balls he made, And on fair grass before him laid. Then that the parted soul might rise And find free passage to the skies, Each solemn word and text he said Which Brahmans utter o'er the dead. Then hastening went the princely pair To bright Godavari, and there Libations of the stream they poured In honour of the vulture lord, With solemn ritual to the slain, As scripture's holy texts ordain. Thus offerings to the bird they gave And bathed their bodies in the wave.

Fierce flashed the flame from Ravan's eye, As thus in wrath he made reply: "Fair time, I ween, for sleep is this, To lull thy soul in tranquil bliss, Unheeding, in oblivion drowned, The dangers that our lives surround. Brave Rama, Dasaratha's son, A passage o'er the sea has won, And, with the Vanar monarch's aid, Round Lanka's walls his hosts arrayed. Though never in the deadly field My Rakshas troops were known to yield, The bravest of the giant train Have fallen by the Vanars slain. Hence comes my fear. O fierce and brave, Go forth, our threatened Lanka save. Go forth, a dreadful vengeance take: For this, O chief, I bade thee wake. The Gods and trembling fiends have felt The furious blows thine arm has dealt. Earth has no warrior, heaven has none To match thy might, Paulastya's son."

His soul is burning for the strife, Nor dreads the jeopardy of life. He trembles as he moves, for ire, And bends around his glance of fire. Next, like a cloud that veils the skies, A chieftain of terrific size, Conspicuous mid the Vanars, comes With battle shout like rolling drums, 'Tis Panas, trained in war and tried, Who dwells on Pariyatra's side. He, far away, the chief who throws A glory o'er the marshalled rows That ranged behind their captain stand Exulting on the ocean strand, Is Vinata the fierce in fight, Preeminent like Dardur's height. That chieftain bending down to drink On lovely Vena's verdant brink, Is Krathan; now he lifts his eyes And thee to mortal fray defies. Next Gavaya comes, whose haughty mind Scorns all the warriors of his kind. He comes to trample--such his boast-- On Lanka with his single host."

"King Dasaratha," thus cried they, "Fervent in penance many a day, The sacrificial steed has slain, Longing for sons, but all in vain. Now, at the cry of us forlorn, Incarnate as his seed be born. Three queens has he: each lovely dame Like Beauty, Modesty, or Fame. Divide thyself in four, and be His offspring by these noble three. Man's nature take, and slay in fight Ravan who laughs at heavenly might: This common scourge, this rankling thorn Whom the three worlds too long have borne For Ravan in the senseless pride Of might unequalled has defied The host of heaven, and plagues with woe Angel and bard and saint below, Crushing each spirit and each maid Who plays in Nandan's(107) heavenly shade. O conquering Lord, to thee we bow; Our surest hope and trust art thou. Regard the world of men below, And slay the Gods' tremendous foe."

"This deed will free the worlds from woe And cause the giants' overthrow. The fiend has borne to Lanka's isle The lady of the lovely smile, True consort born to happy fate With features fair and delicate. She looks and longs for Rama's face, But sees a crowd of demon race, And guarded by the giant's train Pines for her lord and weeps in vain. But Lanka founded on a steep Is girdled by the mighty deep, And how will Rama know his fair And blameless wife is prisoned there? She on her woe will sadly brood And pine away in solitude, And heedless of herself, will cease To live, despairing of release. Yes, pondering on her fate, I see Her gentle life in jeopardy. Go, Indra, swiftly seek the place, And look upon her lovely face. Within the city make thy way: Let heavenly food her spirit stay."

The more he showed his will to tread The path where filial duty led, The more the people, round him thronged, For their dear Rama's empire longed. Still more attached his followers grew, As Rama, with his brother, drew The people with his virtues' ties, Lamenting all with tear-dimmed eyes. The saintly twice-born, triply old In glory, knowledge, seasons told, With hoary heads that shook and bowed, Their voices raised and spake aloud: "O steeds, who best and noblest are, Who whirl so swiftly Rama's car, Go not, return: we call on you: Be to your master kind and true. For speechless things are swift to hear, And naught can match a horse's ear, O generous steeds, return, when thus You hear the cry of all of us. Each vow he keeps most firm and sure, And duty makes his spirit pure. Back with our chief! not wood-ward hence; Back to his royal residence!"

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

Sugriva heard, and, trained and tried In counsel, to his lords replied: "No deed of mine, no hasty word The anger of the prince has stirred. But haply some who hate me still And watch their time to work me ill, Have slandered me to Raghu's son, Accused of deeds I ne'er have done. Now, O my lords--for you are wise-- Speak truly what your hearts advise, And, pondering each event, inquire The reason of the prince's ire. No fear have I of Lakshman: none: No dread of Raghu's mightier son. But wrath, that fires a friendly breast Without due cause, disturbs my rest. With labour light is friendship gained, But with severest toil maintained. And doubt is strong, and faith is weak, And friendship dies when traitors speak. Hence is my troubled bosom cold With fear of Rama lofty-souled; For heavy on my spirit weigh His favours I can ne'er repay."

"Yes, when a soul defiled with sin Shall mount to heaven and enter in, Then, chieftain, will experience teach The truth of thy disdainful speech. Can I, or thou, or these or all Our bravest compass Rama's fall, The chief in whom all virtues shine, The pride of old Ikshvaku'a line, With whom the Gods may scarce compare In skill to act, in heart to dare? Yea, idly mayst thou vaunt thee, till Sharp arrows winged with matchless skill From Rama's bowstring, fleet and fierce As lightning's flame, thy body pierce. Nikumbha shall not save thee then, Nor Ravan, from the lord of men. O Monarch, hear my last appeal, My counsel for thy kingdom's weal. This sentence I again declare: O giant King, beware, beware! Save from the ruin that impends Thy town, thy people, and thy friends; O hear the warning urged once more: To Raghu's son the dame restore."

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

Pierced to the soul by sorrow's sting Thus wailed the evil-hearted king. Then Trisiras stood forth and cried: "Yea, father, he has fought and died, Our bravest: and the loss is sore: But rouse thee, and lament no more. Hast thou not still thy coat of mail, Thy bow and shafts which never fail? A thousand asses draw thy car Which roars like thunder heard afar. Thy valour and thy warrior skill, Thy God-given strength, are left thee still. Unarmed, thy matchless might subdued The Gods and Danav multitude. Armed with thy glorious weapons, how Shall Raghu's son oppose thee now? Or, sire, within thy palace stay; And I myself will sweep away Thy foes, like Garud when he makes A banquet of the writhing snakes. Soon Raghu's son shall press the plain, As Narak(984) fell by Vishnu slain, Or Sambar(985) in rebellious pride Who met the King of Gods(986) and died."

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

Rama, the noblest lord of men, Heard his fond mother's speech, and then In soothing words like these replied To the sad queen who wept and sighed: "Nay, by Kaikeyi's art beguiled, When I am banished to the wild, If thou, my mother, also fly, The aged king will surely die. When wedded dames their lords forsake, Long for the crime their souls shall ache. Thou must not e'en in thought within Thy bosom frame so dire a sin. Long as Kakutstha's son, who reigns Lord of the earth, in life remains, Thou must with love his will obey: This duty claims, supreme for aye. Yes, mother, thou and I must be Submissive to my sire's decree, King, husband, sire is he confessed, The lord of all, the worthiest. I in the wilds my days will spend Till twice seven years have reached an end, Then with great joy will come again, And faithful to thy hests remain."

The hermit heard the prayer he made: A while in earnest thought he stayed, And then in words like these expressed His answer to the chief's request: "Ten leagues away there stands a hill Where thou mayst live, if such thy will: A holy mount, exceeding fair; Great saints have made their dwelling there: There great Langurs(328) in thousands play, And bears amid the thickets stray; Wide-known by Chitrakuta's name, It rivals Gandhamadan's(329) fame. Long as the man that hill who seeks Gazes upon its sacred peaks, To holy things his soul he gives And pure from thought of evil lives. There, while a hundred autumns fled, Has many a saint with hoary head Spent his pure life, and won the prize, By deep devotion, in the skies: Best home, I ween, if such retreat, Far from the ways of men, be sweet: Or let thy years of exile flee Here in this hermitage with me."

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

"O Ravan, O my lord, beware Of Sita dangerous as fair, Nor on thy heedless bosom hang This serpent with a deadly fang. O King, the Maithil dame restore To Raghu's matchless son before Those warriors of the woodlands, vast As mountain peaks, approaching fast, Armed with fierce teeth and claws, enclose Thy city with unsparing foes. O, be the Maithil dame restored Ere loosened from the clanging cord The vengeful shafts of Rama fly, And low in death thy princes lie. In all thy legions hast thou one A match in war for Raghu's son? Can Kumbhakarna's self withstand, Or Indrajit, that mighty hand? In vain with Rama wilt thou strive: Thou wilt not save thy soul alive Though guarded by the Lord of Day And Storm-Gods' terrible array, In vain to Indra wilt thou fly, Or seek protection in the sky, In Yama's gloomy mansion dwell, Or hide thee in the depths of hell."

Thus mourning in that lonely spot The troubled chief bewailed his lot, And filled with tears, his eyes ran o'er; Then silent sat, and spake no more. To him, when ceased his loud lament, Like fire whose brilliant might is spent, Or the great sea when sleeps the wave, Thus Lakshman consolation gave: "Chief of the brave who bear the bow, E'en now Ayodhya, sunk in woe, By thy departure reft of light Is gloomy as the moonless night. Unfit it seems that thou, O chief, Shouldst so afflict thy soul with grief, So with thou Sita's heart consign To deep despair as well as mine. Not I, O Raghu's son, nor she Could live one hour deprived of thee: We were, without thine arm to save, Like fish deserted by the wave. Although my mother dear to meet, Satrughna, and the king, were sweet, On them, or heaven, to feed mine eye Were nothing, if thou wert not by."

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

The chief whose soul to virtue clave This answer to the hermit gave: "I prayed him with our holy guide: But Raghu's son our prayer denied, And long besought by both of us He answered Saint Vasishtha thus: "True to my vow, I still will be Observant of my sire's decree: Till fourteen years complete their course That promise shall remain in force." The saint in highest wisdom taught, These solemn words with wisdom fraught, To him in lore of language learned Most eloquent himself returned: "Obey my rede: let Bharat hold This pair of sandals decked with gold: They in Ayodhya shall ensure Our welfare, and our bliss secure." When Rama heard the royal priest He rose, and looking to the east Consigned the sandals to my hand That they for him might guard the land. Then from the high-souled chief's abode I turned upon my homeward road, Dismissed by him, and now this pair Of sandals to Ayodhya bear."

Then Ravan speeding like the storm, Bearing his death in human form, The struggling Sita, lighted down In royal Lanka's glorious town; A city bright and rich, that showed Well-ordered street and noble road; Arranged with just division, fair With multitudes in court and square. Thus, all his journey done, he passed Within his royal home at last. There in a queenly bower he placed The black-eyed dame with dainty waist: Thus in her chamber Maya laid The lovely Maya, demon maid. Then Ravan gave command to all The dread she-fiends who filled the hall: "This captive lady watch and guard From sight of man and woman barred. But all the fair one asks beside Be with unsparing hand supplied: As though 'twere I that asked, withhold No pearls or dress or gems or gold. And she among you that shall dare Of purpose or through want of care One word to vex her soul to say, Throws her unvalued life away."

"Is this a speech our king should hear, This counsel of ignoble fear? A scion of our glorious race Should ne'er conceive a thought so base, But one mid all our kin we find, Vibhishan, whose degenerate mind No spark of gallant pride retains, Whose coward soul his lineage stains. Against one giant what can two Unhappy sons of Raghu do? Away with idle fears, away! Matched with our meanest, what are they? Beneath my conquering prowess fell The Lord of earth and heaven and hell.(924) Through every startled region dread Of my resistless fury spread; And Gods in each remotest sphere Confessed the universal fear. Rending the air with roar and groan, Airavat(925) to the earth was thrown. From his huge head the tusks I drew, And smote the Gods with fear anew. Shall I who tame celestials' pride, By whom the fiends are terrified, Now prove a weakling little worth, And fail to slay those sons of earth?"

When woke to sense the stricken train, And Janak's soul was calm again, With suppliant hands and reverent head, These words, most eloquent, he said: "O Saint, Prince Rama stands alone: His peerless might he well has shown. A marvel has the hero wrought Beyond belief, surpassing thought. My child, to royal Rama wed, New glory on our line will shed: And true my promise will remain That hero's worth the bride should gain. Dearer to me than light and life, My Sita shall be Rama's wife. If thou, O Brahman, leave concede, My counsellors, with eager speed, Borne in their flying cars, to fair Ayodhya's town the news shall bear, With courteous message to entreat The king to grace my royal seat. This to the monarch shall they tell, The bride is his who won her well: And his two sons are resting here Protected by the holy seer. So, at his pleasure, let them lead The sovereign to my town with speed."

Rama and Lakshman honoured still Their godlike sire with duteous will. Two constant guides for Rama stood, His father's wish, the people's good. Attentive to the general weal He thought and wrought to please and heal. His mothers too he strove to please With love and sonly courtesies. At every time, in every spot, His holy guides he ne'er forgot. So for his virtues kind and true Dearer and dearer Rama grew To Dasaratha, Brahmans, all In town and country, great and small. And Rama by his darling's side Saw many a blissful season glide, Lodged in her soul, each thought on her, Lover, and friend, and worshipper. He loved her for his father's voice Had given her and approved the choice: He loved her for each charm she wore And her sweet virtues more and more. So he her lord and second life Dwelt in the bosom of his wife, In double form, that, e'en apart, Each heart could commune free with heart.

With ripened judgment of a sage, And godlike in his blooming age, When shall my virtuous son appear, Like kindly rain, our hearts to cheer? Ah, in a former life, I ween, This hand of mine, most base and mean, Has dried the udders of the kine And left the thirsty calves to pine. Hence, as the lion robs the cow, Kaikeyi makes me childless now, Exulting from her feebler foe To rend the son she cherished so. I had but him, in Scripture skilled, With every grace his soul was filled. Now not a joy has life to give, And robbed of him I would not live: Yea, all my days are dark and drear If he, my darling, be not near, And Lakshman brave, my heart to cheer. As for my son I mourn and yearn, The quenchless flames of anguish burn And kill me with the pain, As in the summer's noontide blaze The glorious Day-God with his rays Consumes the parching plain."

And when his uncle's brow is stern, When his fierce eyes with fury burn, Ah, what will be my Angad's fate, So fair and young and delicate? Come, darling, for the last sad sight, Of thy dear sire who loved the right; For soon thine eyes will long in vain A look at that loved face to gain. And, hero, as thy child draws near, With tender words his spirit cheer; Thy dying wishes gently speak, And kiss him on the brows and cheek. High fame, I ween, has Rama won By this great deed his hand has done, His debt to brave Sugriva paid And kept the promise that he made. Be happy, King Sugriva, lord Of Rama to thine arms restored: Enjoy uninterrupted reign, For he, thy foe, at length is slain. Dost thou not hear me speak, and why Hast thou no word of soft reply? Will thou not lift thine eyes and see These dames who look to none but thee?"

"Why waste a thought on one so vile As Hanuman the Vanar, while Sugriva, Lakshman, yet remain, And Rama mightier still, unslain? This mace to-day shall crush the three, And all the host will turn and flee. Listen, and I will speak: incline, O King, to hear these words of mine, For the deep plan that I propose Will swiftly rid thee of thy foes. Let thousands of thy host assume The forms of men in youthful bloom, In war's magnificent array Draw near to Raghu's son, and say: "Thy younger brother Bharat sends This army, and thy cause befriends." Then let our legions hasten near With bow and mace and sword and spear, And on the Vanar army rain Our steel and stone till all be slain. If Raghu's sons will fain believe, Entangled in the net we weave, The penalty they both must pay, And lose their forfeit lives to-day." Then with his warrior soul on fire, Nikumbha spoke in burning ire:

He ceased: and Angad bowed his head; Thence like embodied flame he sped, And lighted from his airy road Within the Rakshas king's abode. There sate, the centre of a ring Of counsellors, the giant king. Swift through the circle Angad pressed, And spoke with fury in his breast: "Sent by the lord of Kosal's land, His envoy here, O King, I stand, Angad the son of Bali: fame Has haply taught thine ears my name. Thus in the words of Rama I Am come to warn thee or defy: Come forth, and fighting in the van Display the spirit of a man. This arm shall slay thee, tyrant: all Thy nobles, kith and kin shall fall: And earth and heaven, from terror freed, Shall joy to see the oppressor bleed. Vibhishan, when his foe is slain, Anointed king in peace shall reign. Once more I counsel thee: repent, Avoid the mortal punishment, With honour due the dame restore, And pardon for thy sin implore."

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

Now Rama, ere the night was fled, O'er many a league of road had sped, Till, as his course he onward held, The morn the shades of night dispelled. The rites of holy dawn he paid, And all the country round surveyed. He saw, as still he hurried through With steeds which swift as arrows flew, Hamlets and groves with blossoms fair, And fields which showed the tillers' care, While from the clustered dwellings near The words of peasants reached his ear: "Fie on our lord the king, whose soul Is yielded up to love's control! Fie on the vile Kaikeyi! Shame On that malicious sinful dame, Who, keenly bent on cruel deeds, No bounds of right and virtue heeds, But with her wicked art has sent So good a prince to banishment, Wise, tender-hearted, ruling well His senses, in the woods to dwell. Ah cruel king! his heart of steel For his own son no love could feel, Who with the sinless Rama parts, The darling of the people's hearts."

The king to bitter grief a prey, That drove each wandering sense away, Sunk in affliction's sea, too wide To traverse, in his anguish cried: "Hard, hard to pass, my Queen, this sea Of sorrow raging over me: No Rama near to soothe mine eye, Plunged in its lowest deeps I lie. Sorrow for Rama swells the tide, And Sita's absence makes it wide: My tears its foamy flood distain, Made billowy by my sighs of pain: My cries its roar, the arms I throw About me are the fish below, Kaikeyi is the fire that feeds Beneath: my hair the tangled weeds: Its source the tears for Rama shed: The hump-back's words its monsters dread: The boon I gave the wretch its shore, Till Rama's banishment be o'er.(334) Ah me, that I should long to set My eager eyes to-day On Raghu's son, and he be yet With Lakshman far away!" Thus he of lofty glory wailed, And sank upon the bed. Beneath the woe his spirit failed, And all his senses fled.

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

But none of all the host was found To clear the sea with desperate bound, Though each, as Angad bade, declared His proper power and what he dared.(779) Then spake good Jambavan the sage, Chief of them all for reverend age; "I, Vanar chieftains, long ago Limbs light to leap could likewise show, But now on frame and spirit weighs The burthen of my length of days. Still task like this I may not slight, When Rama and our king unite. So listen while I tell, O friends, What lingering strength mine age attends. If my poor leap may aught avail, Of ninety leagues, I will not fail. Far other strength in youth's fresh prime I boasted, in the olden time, When, at Prahlada's(780) solemn rite, I circled in my rapid flight Lord Vishnu, everlasting God, When through the universe he trod. But now my limbs are weak and old, My youth is fled, its fire is cold, And these exhausted nerves to strain In such a task were idle pain."

To calm his wrath, his soul to ease, The younger spake in words like these: "Yea, from our bosoms let us cast All idle sorrow for the past. Let grief and anger be repressed: Again be firm and self-possessed. This day, O Monarch, shalt thou see The Vanar legions turn and flee, And Rama and his brother slain With their hearts' blood shall dye the plain. Yea, if the God who rules the dead, And Varun their battalions led; If Indra with the Storm-Gods came Against me, and the Lord of Flame, Still would I fight with all and slay Thy banded foes, my King, to-day. If Raghu's son this day withstand The blow of mine uplifted hand, Deep in his breast my darts shall sink, And torrents of his life-blood drink. O fear not, in my promise trust: This arm shall lay him in the dust, Shall leave the fierce Sugriva dyed With gore, and Lakshman by his side, And strike the great Hanuman down, The spoiler of our glorious town."(973)

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

As thus the maid in wrath complained, Kaikeyi saw her heart was pained, And answered eager in defence Of Rama's worth and excellence: "Nay, Rama, born the monarch's heir, By holy fathers trained with care, Virtuous, grateful, pure, and true, Claims royal sway as rightly due. He, like a sire, will long defend Each brother, minister, and friend. Then why, O hump-back, art thou pained To hear that he the throne has gained? Be sure when Rama's empire ends, The kingdom to my son descends, Who, when a hundred years are flown, Shall sit upon his fathers' throne. Why is thine heart thus sad to see The joy that is and long shall be, This fortune by possession sure And hopes which we may count secure? Dear as the darling son I bore Is Rama, yea, or even more. Most duteous to Kausalya, he Is yet more dutiful to me. What though he rule, we need not fear: His brethren to his soul are dear. And if the throne Prince Rama fill Bharat will share the empire still."

So by that matchless arrow cleft, The deer's bright form Maricha left, Resumed his giant shape and size And closed in death his languid eyes. When Rama saw his awful foe Gasp, smeared with blood, in deadly throe, His anxious thoughts to Sita sped, And the wise words that Lakshman said, That this was false Maricha's art, Returned again upon his heart. He knew the foe he triumphed o'er The name of great Maricha bore. "The fiend," he pondered, 'ere he died, "Ho, Lakshman! ho, my Sita!" cried Ah, if that cry has reached her ear, How dire must be my darling's fear! And Lakshman of the mighty arm, What thinks he in his wild alarm? As thus he thought in sad surmise, Each startled hair began to rise, And when he saw the giant slain And thought upon that cry again, His spirit sank and terror pressed Full sorely on the hero's breast. Another deer he chased and struck, He bore away the the fallen buck, To Janasthan then turned his face And hastened to his dwelling place.

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

Meanwhile the rushing wind grew loud, Red lightnings flashed from banks of cloud. The mountains shook, the wild waves rose, And smitten with resistless blows Unrooted fell each stately tree That fringed the margin of the sea. All life within the waters feared Then, as the Vanars gazed, appeared King Garud's self, a wondrous sight, Disclosed in flames of fiery light. From his fierce eye in sudden dread All serpents in a moment fled. And those transformed to shaft that bound The princes vanished in the ground. On Raghu's sons his eyes he bent, And hailed the lords armipotent. Then o'er them stooped the feathered king, And touched their faces with his wing. His healing touch their pangs allayed, And closed each rent the shafts had made. Again their eyes were bright and bold, Again the smooth skin shone like gold. Again within their shell enshrined Came memory and each power of mind: And, from those numbing bonds released, Their spirit, zeal, and strength increased. Firm on their feet they stood, and then Thus Rama spake, the lord of men:

See, see our leafy cot between Those waving boughs of densest green, Where Ravan seized his prize and stole My love the darling of my soul. O, look again: beneath thee gleams Godavari the best of streams, Whose lucid waters sweetly glide By lilies that adorn her side. There dwelt Agastya, holy sage, In plantain-sheltered hermitage. See Sarabhanga's humble shed Which sovereign Indra visited. See where the gentle hermits dwell Neath Atri's rule who loved us well; Where once thine eyes were blest to see His sainted dame who talked with thee. Now rest thine eyes with new delight On Chitrakuta's woody height, See Jumna flashing in the sun Through groves of brilliant foliage run. Screened by the shade of spreading boughs. There Bharadvaja keeps his vows, There Ganga, river of the skies, Rolls the sweet wave that purifies, There Sringavera's towers ascend Where Guha reigns, mine ancient friend. I see, I see thy glittering spires, Ayodhya, city of my sires. Bow down, bow down thy head, my sweet, Our home, our long-lost home to greet."

Ere she had ceased, the monarch fell, A victim to the lady's spell, And to the deadly snare she set Sprang, like a roebuck to the net. Her lover raised her drooping head, Smiled, playing with her hair, and said: "Hast thou not learnt, wild dame, till now That there is none so dear as thou To me thy loving husband, save My Rama bravest of the brave? By him my race's high-souled heir, By him whom none can match, I swear, Now speak the wish that on thee weighs: By him whose right is length of days, Whom if my fond paternal eye Saw not one hour I needs must die,-- I swear by Rama my dear son, Speak, and thy bidding shall be done. Speak, darling; if thou choose, request To have the heart from out my breast; Regard my words, sweet love, and name The wish thy mind thinks fit to frame. Nor let thy soul give way to doubt: My power should drive suspicion out. Yea, by my merits won I swear, Speak, darling, I will grant thy prayer."

"No words have I to answer now: My deity, O Queen, art thou. But 'tis no marvel, dame, to find Such lack of sense in womankind. Throughout this world, O Maithil dame, Weak women's hearts are still the same. Inconstant, urged by envious spite, They sever friends and hate the right. I cannot brook, Videhan Queen, Thy words intolerably keen. Mine ears thy fierce reproaches pain As boiling water seethes the brain. And now to bear me witness all The dwellers in the wood I call, That, when with words of truth I plead, This harsh reply is all my meed. Ah, woe is thee! Ah, grief, that still Eager to do my brother's will, Mourning thy woman's nature, I Must see thee doubt my truth and die. I fly to Rama's side, and Oh, May bliss attend thee while I go! May all attendant wood-gods screen Thy head from harm, O large-eyed Queen! And though dire omens meet my sight And fill my soul with wild affright, May I return in peace and see The son of Raghu safe with thee!"

The Brahman, versed in ancient lore, Thus closed his tale, and said no more, To Satananda Kusik's son Cried in delight, Well done! well done! Then Janak, at the tale amazed, Spoke thus with suppliant hands upraised: "High fate is mine, O Sage, I deem, And thanks I owe for bliss supreme, That thou and Raghu's children too Have come my sacrifice to view. To look on thee with blessed eyes Exalts my soul and purifies. Yea, thus to see thee face to face Enriches me with store of grace. Thy holy labours wrought of old, And mighty penance, fully told, Rama and I with great delight Have heard, O glorious Anchorite. Unrivalled thine ascetic deeds: Thy might, O Saint, all might exceeds. No thought may scan, no limit bound The virtues that in thee are found. The story of thy wondrous fate My thirsty ears can never sate. The hour of evening rites is near: The sun declines in swift career. At early dawn, O Hermit, deign To let me see thy face again. Best of ascetics, part in bliss: Do thou thy servant now dismiss."

Clasping her husband's lifeless clay A while the weeping votaress lay, Till chamberlains removed her thence O'ercome by sorrow's violence. Then in a cask of oil they laid Him who in life the world had swayed, And finished, as the lords desired, All rites for parted souls required. The lords, all-wise, refused to burn The monarch ere his son's return; So for a while the corpse they set Embalmed in oil, and waited yet. The women heard: no doubt remained, And wildly for the king they plained. With gushing tears that drowned each eye Wildly they waved their arms on high, And each her mangling nails impressed Deep in her head and knee and breast: "Of Rama reft,--who ever spake The sweetest words the heart to take, Who firmly to the truth would cling,-- Why dost thou leave us, mighty King? How can the consorts thou hast left Widowed, of Raghu's son bereft, Live with our foe Kaikeyi near, The wicked queen we hate and fear? She threw away the king, her spite Drove Rama forth and Lakshman's might, And gentle Sita: how will she Spare any, whosoe'er it be?"

"O Rama, great delight I feel, Pleased, Lakshman, with thy faithful zeal, That you within these shades I see With Sita come to honour me. But wandering through the rough rude wild Has wearied Janak's gentle child: With labours of the way oppressed The Maithil lady longs for rest. Young, delicate, and soft, and fair, Such toils as these untrained to bear, Her wifely love the dame has led The forest's troubled ways to tread. Here, Rama, see that naught annoy Her easy hours of tranquil joy: A glorious task has she assayed, To follow thee through woodland shade. Since first from Nature's hand she came, A woman's mood is still the same, When Fortune smiles, her love to show, And leave her lord in want and woe. No pity then her heart can feel, She arms her soul with warrior's steel, Swift as the storm or Feathered King, Uncertain as the lightning's wing. Not so thy spouse: her purer mind Shrinks from the faults of womankind; Like chaste Arundhati(441) above, A paragon of faithful love. Let these blest shades, dear Rama, be A home for Lakshman, her, and thee."

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

Thus was the helpless monarch stung By Queen Kaikeyi's fearless tongue, As Bali strove in vain to loose His limbs from Indra's fatal noose. Dismayed in soul and pale with fear, The monarch, like a trembling steer Between the chariot's wheel and yoke, Again to Queen Kaikeyi spoke, With sad eyes fixt in vacant stare, Gathering courage from despair: "That hand I took, thou sinful dame, With texts, before the sacred flame, Thee and thy son, I scorn and hate, And all at once repudiate. The night is fled: the dawn is near: Soon will the holy priests be here To bid me for the rite prepare That with my son the throne will share, The preparation made to grace My Rama in his royal place-- With this, e'en this, my darling for My death the funeral flood shall pour. Thou and thy son at least forbear In offerings to my shade to share, For by the plot thy guile has laid His consecration will be stayed. This very day how shall I brook To meet each subject's altered look? To mark each gloomy joyless brow That was so bright and glad but now?"

Then o'er the lady's soul and frame A sudden fear and trembling came, When, glowing in his youthful pride, She saw the monarch by her side. Silent she sat, her eyes depressed, Her soft arms folded o'er her breast, And,--all she could,--her beauties screened From the bold gazes of the fiend. There where the wild she-demons kept Their watch around, she sighed and wept. Then, like a severed bough, she lay Prone on the bare earth in dismay. The while her thoughts on love's fleet wings Flew to her lord the best of kings. She fell upon the ground, and there Lay struggling with her wild despair, Sad as a lady born again To misery and woe and pain, Now doomed to grief and low estate, Once noble fair and delicate: Like faded light of holy lore, Like Hope when all her dreams are o'er; Like ruined power and rank debased, Like majesty of kings disgraced: Like worship foiled by erring slips, The moon that labours in eclipse; A pool with all her lilies dead, An army when its king has fled: So sad and helpless wan and worn, She lay among the fiends forlorn.

"O brother, hear! since Rama's queen A captive in thy house has been, Disastrous omens day by day Have struck our souls with wild dismay. No longer still and strong and clear The flames of sacrifice appear, But, restless with the frequent spark, Neath clouds of smoke grow faint and dark. Our ministering priests turn pale To see their wonted offerings fail, And ants and serpents creep and crawl Within the consecrated hall.(916) Dried are the udders of our cows, Our elephants have juiceless brows,(917) Nor can the sweetest pasture stay The charger's long unquiet neigh. Big tears from mules and camels flow Whose staring coats their trouble show, Nor can the leech's art restore Their health and vigour as before. Rapacious birds are fierce and bold: Not single hunters as of old, In banded troops they chase the prey, Or gathering on our temples stay. Through twilight hours with shriek and howl Around the city jackals prowl, And wolves and foul hyaenas wait Athirst for blood at every gate. One sole atonement still may cure These evils, and our weal assure. Restore the Maithil dame, and win An easy pardon for thy sin."

As Saint Vasishtha answered so, Nor let the cow of plenty go, The monarch, as a last resource, Began to drag her off by force. While the king's servants tore away Their moaning, miserable prey, Sad, sick at heart, and sore distressed, She pondered thus within her breast: "Why am I thus forsaken? why Betrayed by him of soul most high. Vasishtha, ravished by the hands Of soldiers of the monarch's bands? Ah me! what evil have I done Against the lofty-minded one, That he, so pious, can expose The innocent whose love he knows?" In her sad breast as thus she thought, And heaved deep sighs with anguish fraught, With wondrous speed away she fled, And back to Saint Vasishtha sped. She hurled by hundreds to the ground The menial crew that hemmed her round, And flying swifter than the blast Before the saint herself she cast. There Dapple-skin before the saint Stood moaning forth her sad complaint, And wept and lowed: such tones as come From wandering cloud or distant drum. "O son of Brahma," thus cried she, "Why hast thou thus forsaken me, That the king's men, before thy face, Bear off thy servant from her place?"

As Queen Kaikeyi thus obeyed The sinful counsel of her maid She sank upon the chamber floor, As sinks in anguish, wounded sore, An elephant beneath the smart Of the wild hunter's venomed dart. The lovely lady in her mind Revolved the plot her maid designed, And prompt the gain and risk to scan She step by step approved the plan. Misguided by the hump-back's guile She pondered her resolve awhile, As the fair path that bliss secured The miserable lady lured, Devoted to her queen, and swayed By hopes of gain and bliss, the maid Rejoiced, her lady's purpose known, And deemed the prize she sought her own. Then bent upon her purpose dire, Kaikeyi with her soul on fire, Upon the floor lay, languid, down, Her brows contracted in a frown. The bright-hued wreath that bound her hair, Chains, necklets, jewels rich and rare, Stripped off by her own fingers lay Spread on the ground in disarray, And to the floor a lustre lent As stars light up the firmament. Thus prostrate in the mourner's cell, In garb of woe the lady fell, Her long hair in a single braid, Like some fair nymph of heaven dismayed.(272)

The root, the leaf, the fruit which thou Shalt give me from the earth or bough, Scanty or plentiful, to eat, Shall taste to me as Amrit sweet. As there I live on flowers and roots And every season's kindly fruits, I will not for my mother grieve, My sire, my home, or all I leave. My presence, love, shall never add One pain to make the heart more sad; I will not cause thee grief or care, Nor be a burden hard to bear. With thee is heaven, where'er the spot; Each place is hell where thou art not. Then go with me, O Rama; this Is all my hope and all my bliss. If thou wilt leave thy wife who still Entreats thee with undaunted will, This very day shall poison close The life that spurns the rule of foes. How, after, can my soul sustain The bitter life of endless pain, When thy dear face, my lord, I miss? No, death is better far than this. Not for an hour could I endure The deadly grief that knows not cure, Far less a woe I could not shun For ten long years, and three, and one."

As the sad tale of sin I told The hermit's grief was uncontrolled. With flooded eyes, and sorrow-faint, Thus spake the venerable saint: I stood with hand to hand applied, And listened as he spoke and sighed: "If thou, O King, hadst left unsaid By thine own tongue this tale of dread, Thy head for hideous guilt accursed Had in a thousand pieces burst. A hermit's blood by warrior spilt, In such a case, with purposed guilt, Down from his high estate would bring Even the thunder's mighty King. And he a dart who conscious sends Against the devotee who spends His pure life by the law of Heaven-- That sinner's head will split in seven. Thou livest, for thy heedless hand Has wrought a deed thou hast not planned, Else thou and all of Raghu's line Had perished by this act of thine. Now guide us," thus the hermit said, "Forth to the spot where he lies dead. Guide us, this day, O Monarch, we For the last time our son would see: The hermit dress of skin he wore Rent from his limbs distained with gore; His senseless body lying slain, His soul in Yama's dark domain."

His breast with burning fury fired, Thus Khara of the fiend inquired: And then with many a tear and sigh Thus Surpanakha made reply: "'Tis Dasaratha's sons, a pair Strong, resolute, and young, and fair: In coats of dark and blackdeer's hide, And like the radiant lotus eyed: On berries roots and fruit they feed, And lives of saintly virtue lead: With ordered senses undefiled, Rama and Lakshman are they styled. Fair as the Minstrels' King(460) are they, And stamped with signs of regal sway. I know not if the heroes trace Their line from Gods or Danav(461) race. There by these wondering eyes between The noble youths a dame was seen, Fair, blooming, young, with dainty waist, And all her bright apparel graced. For her with ready heart and mind The royal pair their strength combined, And brought me to this last distress, Like some lost woman, comfortless. Perfidious wretch! my soul is fain Her foaming blood and theirs to drain. O let me head the vengeful fight, And with this hand my murderers smite. Come, brother, hasten to fulfil This longing of my eager will. On to the battle! Let me drink Their lifeblood as to earth they sink."

Then Kumbhakarna's anger woke, And wroth at Ravan's words he spoke: "O Monarch, when thy ravished eyes First looked upon thy lovely prize, Then was the time to bid us scan Each peril and mature a plan. Blest is the king who acts with heed, And ne'er repents one hasty deed; And hapless he whose troubled soul Mourns over days beyond control. Thou hast, in beauty's toils ensnared, A desperate deed of boldness dared; By fortune saved ere Rama's steel One wound, thy mortal bane, could deal. But, Ravan, as the deed is done, The toil of war I will not shun. This arm, O rover of the night, Thy foemen to the earth shall smite, Though Indra with the Lord of Flame, The Sun and Storms, against me came. E'en Indra, monarch of the skies, Would dread my club and mountain size, Shrink from these teeth and quake to hear The thunders of my voice of fear. No second dart shall Rama cast: The first he aims shall be the last. He falls, and these dry lips shall drain The blood of him my hand has slain; And Sita, when her champion dies, Shall be thine undisputed prize."

"Not he," Hanuman cried, "not he Who taught the Gods(928) may rival thee, Supreme in power of quickest sense, First in the art of eloquence. But hear me soothly speak, O King, And learn the hope to which I cling. Vibhishan comes no crafty spy: Urged by his brother's fault to fly. With righteous soul that loathes the sin, He fled from Lanka and his kin. If strangers question, doubt will rise And chill the heart of one so wise. Marred by distrust the parle will end, And thou wilt lose a faithful friend. Nor let it seem so light a thing To sound a stranger's heart, O King. And he, I ween, whate'er he say, Will ne'er an evil thought betray. He comes a friend in happy time, Loathing his brother for his crime. His ear has heard thine old renown, The might that struck King Bali down, And set Sugriva on the throne. And looking now to thee alone He comes thy matchless aid to win And punish Ravan for his sin. Thus have I tried thy heart to move, And thus Vibhishan's truth to prove. Still in his friendship I confide; But ponder, wisest, and decide."

The aged monarch gazed awhile, Then thus addressed him with a smile, As Kasyap, whom the worlds revere, Speaks for the Lord of Gods to hear: "O thou of all my sons most dear, In virtue best, thy father's peer, Child of my consort first in place, Mine equal in her pride of race, Because the people's hearts are bound To thee by graces in thee found, Be thou in Pushya's favouring hour Made partner of my royal power. I know that thou by nature's bent Both modest art and excellent, But though thy gifts no counsel need My love suggests the friendly rede. Mine own dear son, be modest still, And rule each sense with earnest will. Keep thou the evils far away That spring from love and anger's sway. Thy noble course alike pursue In secret as in open view, And every nerve, the love to gain Of ministers and subjects, strain. The happy prince who sees with pride His thriving people satisfied; Whose arsenals with arms are stored, And treasury with golden hoard,-- His friends rejoice as joyed the Blest When Amrit crowned their eager quest. So well, my child, thy course maintain, And from all ill thy soul refrain."

When thus the archer king was bound, With treacherous arts and oaths enwound, She to her bounteous lord subdued By blinding love, her speech renewed: "Remember, King, that long-past day Of Gods' and demons' battle fray. And how thy foe in doubtful strife Had nigh bereft thee of thy life. Remember, it was only I Preserved thee when about to die, And thou for watchful love and care Wouldst grant my first and second prayer. Those offered boons, pledged with thee then, I now demand, O King of men, Of thee, O Monarch, good and just, Whose righteous soul observes each trust. If thou refuse thy promise sworn, I die, despised, before the morn. These rites in Rama's name begun-- Transfer them, and enthrone my son. The time is come to claim at last The double boon of days long-past, When Gods and demons met in fight, And thou wouldst fain my care requite. Now forth to Dandak's forest drive Thy Rama for nine years and five, And let him dwell a hermit there With deerskin coat and matted hair. Without a rival let my boy The empire of the land enjoy, And let mine eyes ere morning see Thy Rama to the forest flee."

Then Rama, Sita, Lakshman bent At the king's feet, and sadly went Round him with slow steps reverent. When Rama of the duteous heart Had gained his sire's consent to part, With Sita by his side he paid Due reverence to the queen dismayed. And Lakshman, with affection meet, Bowed down and clasped his mother's feet. Sumitra viewed him as he pressed Her feet, and thus her son addressed: "Neglect not Rama wandering there, But tend him with thy faithful care. In hours of wealth, in time of woe, Him, sinless son, thy refuge know. From this good law the just ne'er swerve, That younger sons the eldest serve, And to this righteous rule incline All children of thine ancient line-- Freely to give, reward each rite, Nor spare their bodies in the fight. Let Rama Dasaratha be, Look upon Sita as on me, And let the cot wherein you dwell Be thine Ayodhya. Fare thee well." Her blessing thus Sumitra gave To him whose soul to Rama clave, Exclaiming, when her speech was done, "Go forth, O Lakshman, go, my son. Go forth, my son to win success, High victory and happiness. Go forth thy foemen to destroy, And turn again at last with joy."

So they who changed their forms at will Thousands of Brahmans dared to kill,-- Fierce fiends who loved each cruel deed, And joyed on bleeding flesh to feed. Agastya, mighty hermit, pressed To funeral banquet like the rest, Obedient to the Gods' appeal Ate up the monster at a meal. "'Tis done, 'tis done," fierce Ilval cried, And water for his hands supplied: Then lifting up his voice he spake: "Forth, brother, from thy prison break." Then him who called the fiend, who long Had wrought the suffering Brahmans wrong, Thus thoughtful-souled Agastya, best Of hermits, with a smile addressed: "How, Rakshas, is the fiend empowered To issue forth whom I devoured? Thy brother in a ram's disguise Is gone where Yama's kingdom lies." When from the words Agastya said He knew his brother fiend was dead, His soul on fire with vengeful rage, Rushed the night-rover at the sage. One lightning glance of fury, hot As fire, the glorious hermit shot, As the fiend neared him in his stride, And straight, consumed to dust, he died. In pity for the Brahmans' plight Agastya wrought this deed of might: This grove which lakes and fair trees grace In his great brother's dwelling place."