Ramayana on Speech

Thus as her breast with fury burned Her bitter speech the dame returned. Such words of rage and scorn, the last She uttered, at the fiend she cast. Her taunting speech the giant heard, And every hair with anger stirred. Then thus with fury in his eye He made in threats his fierce reply: "Hear Maithil lady, hear my speech: List to my words and ponder each. If o'er thy head twelve months shall fly And thou thy love wilt still deny, My cooks shall mince thy flesh with steel And serve it for my morning meal."

The hermit saw the slaughtered bird, And all his heart with ruth was stirred. The fowler's impious deed distressed His gentle sympathetic breast, And while the curlew's sad cries rang Within his ears, the hermit sang: "No fame be thine for endless time, Because, base outcast, of thy crime, Whose cruel hand was fain to slay One of this gentle pair at play!" E'en as he spoke his bosom wrought And laboured with the wondering thought What was the speech his ready tongue Had uttered when his heart was wrung. He pondered long upon the speech, Recalled the words and measured each, And thus exclaimed the saintly guide To Bharadvaja by his side: "With equal lines of even feet, With rhythm and time and tone complete, The measured form of words I spoke In shock of grief be termed a sloke."(46) And Bharadvaja, nothing slow His faithful love and zeal to show, Answered those words of wisdom, "Be The name, my lord, as pleases thee."

"The counselor we now behold Of King Sugriva righteous-souled. His face I long have yearned to see, And now his envoy comes to me With sweetest words in courteous phrase Answer this mighty lord who slays His foemen, by Sugriva sent, This Vanar chief most eloquent. For one whose words so sweetly flow The whole Rig-veda(547) needs must know, And in his well-trained memory store The Yajush and the Saman's lore. He must have bent his faithful ear All grammar's varied rules to hear. For his long speech how well he spoke! In all its length no rule he broke. In eye, on brow, in all his face The keenest look no guile could trace. No change of hue, no pose of limb Gave sign that aught was false in him. Concise, unfaltering, sweet and clear, Without a word to pain the ear. From chest to throat, nor high nor low, His accents came in measured flow. How well he spoke with perfect art That wondrous speech that charmed the heart, With finest skill and order graced In words that knew nor pause nor haste! That speech, with consonants that spring From the three seats of uttering,(548) Would charm the spirit of a foe Whose sword is raised for mortal blow. How may a ruler's plan succeed Who lacks such envoy good at need? How fail, if one whose mind is stored With gifts so rare assist his lord? What plans can fail, with wisest speech Of envoy's lips to further each?"

Sugriva thus with gentle art And sweet words soothed the mourner's heart, Who brushed off with his mantle's hem Tears from the eyes bedewed with them. Sugriva's words were not in vain, And Rama was himself again, Around the king his arms he threw And thus began his speech anew:

Quick came from all the glad reply: "Vasishtha, let the envoys fly!" He heard their speech, and thus renewed His charge before the multitude: "Nandan, Asok, Siddharth, attend, Your ears, Jayanta, Vijay, lend: Be yours, what need requires, to do: I speak these words to all of you. With coursers of the fleetest breed To Rajagriha's city speed. Then rid your bosoms of distress, And Bharat thus from me address: "The household priest and peers by us Send health to thee and greet thee thus: Come to thy father's home with haste: Thine absent time no longer waste." But speak no word of Rama fled, Tell not the prince his sire is dead, Nor to the royal youth the fate That ruins Raghu's race relate. Go quickly hence, and with you bear Fine silken vestures rich and rare, And gems and many a precious thing As gifts to Bharat and the king."

The splendid hermit bade him take The noble weapons as he spake, And as the prince accepted each In words like these renewed his speech:

Thus spoke the hero, and aglow With rage of battle seized his bow. But Rama thus in gentler mood With fitting words his speech renewed: "No hero with a soul like thine To paths of sin will e'er incline, He who his angry heart can tame Is worthiest of a hero's name. Not thine, my brother, be the part So alien from the tender heart, Nor let thy feet by wrath misled Forsake the path they loved to tread. From harsh and angry words abstain: With gentle speech a hearing gain, And tax Sugriva with the crime Of failing faith and wasted time."

Roused by the taunting words she spoke, The mighty Khara's wrath awoke, And there, while giants girt him round, In these fierce words an utterance found:

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."

The son of Raghu heard: he knew His brother's rede was wise and true; And, honouring his friendly guide, In gentle words he thus replied: "Whate'er a hero firm and bold, Devoted, true, and lofty-souled Should speak by deep affection led, Such are the words which thou hast said. I cast away each pensive thought That brings the noblest plans to naught, And each uninjured power will strain Until the purposed end we gain. Thy prudent words will I obey, And till the close of rain-time stay, When King Sugriva will invite To action, and the streams be bright. The hero saved in hour of need Repays the debt with friendly deed: But hated by the good are they Who take the boon and ne'er repay."

Then flushed with joy the lady's cheek. Her eyes o'erflowed, her voice was weak; But struggling with her sobs she broke Her silence thus, and faintly spoke: "So fast the flood of rapture came, My trembling tongue no words could frame. Ne'er have I heard in days of bliss A tale that gave such joy as this. More precious far than gems and gold The message which thy lips have told."

There ceased the Vanar: Rama pressed The treasured jewel to his breast, And from his eyes the waters broke As to the Vanar king he spoke: "As o'er her babe the mother weeps, This flood of tears the jewel steeps. This gem that shone on Sita's head Was Janak's gift when we were wed, And the pure brow that wore it lent New splendour to the ornament. This gem, bright offspring of the wave, The King of Heaven to Janak gave, Whose noble sacrificial rite Had filled the God with new delight. Now, as I gaze upon the prize, Methinks I see my father's eyes. Methinks I see before me stand The ruler of Videha's land.(893) Methinks mine arms are folded now Round her who wore it on her brow. Speak, Hanuman, O say, dear friend, What message did my darling send? O speak, and let thy words impart Their gentle dew to cool my heart. Ah, 'tis the crown of woe to see This gem and ask "Where, where is she?" If for one month her heart be strong, Her days of life will yet be long. But I, with naught to lend relief, This very day must die of grief. Come, Hanuman, and quickly guide The mourner to his darling's side. O lead me--thou hast learnt the way-- I cannot and I will not stay. How can my gentle love endure, So timid, delicate, and pure, The dreadful demons fierce and vile Who watch her in the guarded isle? No more the light of beauty shines From Sita as she weeps and pines. But pain and sorrow, cloud on cloud Her moonlight glory dim and shroud. O speak, dear Hanuman, and tell Each word that from her sweet lips fell, Her words, her words alone can give The healing balm to make me live."(894)

Thus by the high-souled prince addressed, Of Raghu's sons the chief and best, She cast all ruth and shame aside, And bold with greedy words replied: "Not wrath, O Rama, stirs the king, Nor misery stabs with sudden sting; One thought that fills his soul has he, But dares not speak for fear of thee. Thou art so dear, his lips refrain From words that might his darling pain. But thou, as duty bids, must still The promise of thy sire fulfil. He who to me in days gone by Vouchsafed a boon with honours high, Dares now, a king, his word regret, And caitiff-like disowns the debt. The lord of men his promise gave To grant the boon that I might crave, And now a bridge would idly throw When the dried stream has ceased to flow. His faith the monarch must not break In wrath, or e'en for thy dear sake. From faith, as well the righteous know, Our virtue and our merits flow. Now, be they good or be they ill, Do thou thy father's words fulfil: Swear that his promise shall not fail, And I will tell thee all the tale. Yes, Rama, when I hear that thou Hast bound thee by thy father's vow, Then, not till then, my lips shall speak, Nor will he tell what boon I seek."

She ceased: with admiration moved The Vanar chief her words approved: "Thy speech," he cried, "is worthy one Whom love has linked to Raghu's son. Now speak, O Queen, that I may know Thy pleasure, for to him I go." The Vanar ceased: then Janak's child Made answer as she sweetly smiled: "'My first, my only wish can be, O chief, my loving lord to see." Again the Vanar envoy spoke, And with his words new rapture woke: "Queen, ere this sun shall cease to shine Thy Rama's eyes shall look in thine. Again the lord of Raghu's race Shall turn to thee his moon-bright face. His faithful brother shall thou see And every friend who fought for thee, And greet once more thy king restored Like Sachi(1014) to her heavenly lord." To Raghu's son his steps he bent And told the message that she sent.

A hundred offerings duly wrought His rank o'er Gods for Indra bought, And mighty saints their heaven secured By torturing years on earth endured." That scoffing plea the hero spurned, And thus he spake once more, Chiding, the while his bosom burned, Javali's impious lore: "Justice, and courage ne'er dismayed, Pity for all distressed, Truth, loving honour duly paid To Brahman, God, and guest-- In these, the true and virtuous say, Should lives of men be passed: They form the right and happy way That leads to heaven at last. My father's thoughtless act I chide That gave thee honoured place, Whose soul, from virtue turned aside, Is faithless, dark, and base. We rank the Buddhist with the thief,(388) And all the impious crew Who share his sinful disbelief, And hate the right and true. Hence never should wise kings who seek To rule their people well, Admit, before their face to speak, The cursed infidel. But twice-born men in days gone by, Of other sort than thou, Have wrought good deeds, whose glories high Are fresh among us now: This world they conquered, nor in vain They strove to win the skies: The twice-born hence pure lives maintain, And fires of worship rise. Those who in virtue's path delight, And with the virtuous live,-- Whose flames of holy zeal are bright, Whose hands are swift to give, Who injure none, and good and mild In every grace excel, Whose lives by sin are undefiled, We love and honour well." Thus Rama spoke in righteous rage Javali's speech to chide, When thus again the virtuous sage In truthful words replied: "The atheist's lore I use no more, Not mine his impious creed: His words and doctrine I abhor, Assumed at time of need. E'en as I rose to speak with thee, The fit occasion came That bade me use the atheist's plea To turn thee from thine aim. The atheist creed I disavow, Unsay the words of sin, And use the faithful's language now Thy favour, Prince, to win."

Thus by the artful maid addressed In cruel words from raging breast, The queen, sore troubled, spoke in turn; "What evil news have I to learn? That mournful eye, that altered cheek Of sudden woe or danger speak."

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

"Speak, speak again!" thus Rama cried, With reverent palm to palm applied, But from the frame the spirit fled And to the skiey regions sped. The breath of life had passed away. Stretched on the ground the body lay.

Thus in fair words with virtue fraught The pious glorious saint besought. But the good speech with poignant sting Pierced ear and bosom of the king, Who, stabbed with pangs too sharp to bear, Fell prostrate and lay fainting there.

Thus Sarama her story told: And Sita's spirit was consoled, As when the first fresh rain is shed The parching earth is comforted. Then, filled with zeal for Sita's sake, Again in gentle tones she spake, And, skilled in arts that soothe and please, Addressed the queen in words like these: "Thy husband, lady, will I seek, Say the fond words thy lips would speak, And then, unseen of any eye, Back to thy side will swiftly fly. My airy flights are speedier far Than Garuda's and the tempest are."

"Revoke, my lord, thy fierce decree, And hear the words I speak to thee. Kings wise and noble ne'er condemn To death the envoys sent to them. Such deed the world's contempt would draw On him who breaks the ancient law.(885) Observe the mean where justice lies, And spare his life but still chastise." Then forth the tyrant's fury broke, And thus in angry words he spoke: "O hero, when the wicked bleed No sin or shame attends the deed. The Vanar's blood must needs be spilt, The penalty of heinous guilt."

Thus Hanuman, well trained in lore Of language, spoke, and said no more. The son of Raghu joyed to hear The envoy's speech, and bright of cheer He turned to Lakshman by his side, And thus in words of transport cried:

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?"

Then to Sugriva Rama, best Of Raghu's sons, these words addressed:

While thus the high-souled monarch spoke To the stern queen, the Morning broke, And holy night had slowly fled, With moon and stars engarlanded. Yet once again the cruel queen Spoke words in answer fierce and keen, Still on her evil purpose bent, Wild with her rage and eloquent: "What speech is this? Such words as these Seem sprung from poison-sown disease. Quick to thy noble Rama send And bid him on his sire attend. When to my son the rule is given; When Rama to the woods is driven; When not a rival copes with me, From chains of duty thou art free."

The words that Sita uttered, spurred By truest love, the hero heard: Then he who ne'er from virtue strayed To Janak's child his answer made: "In thy wise speech, sweet love, I find True impress of thy gentle mind, Well skilled the warrior's path to trace, Thou pride of Janak's ancient race. What fitting answer shall I frame To thy good words, my honoured dame? Thou sayst the warrior bears the bow That misery's tears may cease to flow; And those pure saints who love the shade Of Dandak wood are sore dismayed. They sought me of their own accord, With suppliant prayers my aid implored: They, fed on roots and fruit, who spend Their lives where bosky wilds extend, My timid love, enjoy no rest By these malignant fiends distressed. These make the flesh of man their meat: The helpless saints they kill and eat. The hermits sought my side, the chief Of Brahman race declared their grief. I heard, and from my lips there fell The words which thou rememberest well: I listened as the hermits cried, And to their prayers I thus replied:

When Rama heard from Bharat each Dark sorrow of his mournful speech, And tidings of his father dead, His spirits fell, his senses fled. For the sad words his brother spoke Struck on him like a thunder stroke, Fierce as the bolt which Indra throws, The victor of his Daitya foes. Raising his arms in anguish, he, As when the woodman hews a tree With its fair flowery branches crowned, Fainted and fell upon the ground. Lord of the earth to earth he sank, Helpless, as when a towering bank With sudden ruin buries deep An elephant who lay asleep. Then swift his wife and brothers flew, And water, weeping, o'er him threw. As slowly sense and strength he gained, Fast from his eyes the tears he rained, And then in accents sad and weak Kakutstha's son began to speak, And mourning for the monarch dead, With righteous words to Bharat said: "What calls me home, when he, alas, Has gone the way which all must pass? Of him, the best of kings bereft What guardian has Ayodhya left? How may I please his spirit? how Delight the high-souled monarch now, Who wept for me and went above By me ungraced with mourning love? Ah, happy brothers! you have paid Due offerings to his parting shade. E'en when my banishment is o'er, Back to my home I go no more, To look upon the widowed state Reft of her king, disconsolate. E'en then, O tamer of the foe, If to Ayodhya's town I go, Who will direct me as of old, Now other worlds our father hold? From whom, my brother, shall I hear Those words which ever charmed mine ear And filled my bosom with delight Whene'er he saw me act aright?"

"Think not, sweet lady, of the shame Of broken vows, nor fear the blame. The saints approve with favouring eyes This union knit with marriage ties. O beauty, at thy radiant feet I lay my heads, and thus entreat. One word of grace, one look I crave: Have pity on thy prostrate slave. These idle words I speak are vain, Wrung forth by love's consuming pain, And ne'er of Ravan be it said He wooed a dame with prostrate head." Thus to the Maithil lady sued The monarch of the giant brood, And "She is now mine own," he thought, In Death's dire coils already caught.

As from Kausalya reasoning well The gentle words of wisdom fell, The sun went down with dying flame, And darkness o'er the landscape came. His lady's soothing words in part Relieved the monarch's aching heart, Who, wearied out by all his woes, Yielded to sleep and took repose.

With piteous voice, by woe subdued, Thus Raghu's son his speech renewed:

The Rakshas monarch heard, and moved To sudden wrath his speech reproved:

The Rakshas monarch heard, and moved By flattering hopes the speech approved:

That conquering pair, of royal race, Skilled to observe due time and place, To Kusik's hermit son addressed, In timely words, their meet request: "When must we, lord, we pray thee tell, Those Rovers of the Night repel? Speak, lest we let the moment fly, And pass the due occasion by." Thus longing for the strife, they prayed, And thus the hermits answer made: "Till the fifth day be come and past, O Raghu's sons, your watch must last. The saint his Diksha(170) has begun, And all that time will speak to none." Soon as the steadfast devotees Had made reply in words like these, The youths began, disdaining sleep, Six days and nights their watch to keep. The warrior pair who tamed the foe, Unrivalled benders of the bow, Kept watch and ward unwearied still To guard the saint from scathe and ill. 'Twas now the sixth returning day, The hour foretold had past away. Then Rama cried: "O Lakshman, now Firm, watchful, resolute be thou. The fiends as yet have kept afar From the pure grove in which we are: Yet waits us, ere the day shall close, Dire battle with the demon foes."

Thus Lakshman praised in scornful jest The long-toothed fiend with loathly breast, Who fondly heard his speech, nor knew His mocking words were aught but true. Again inflamed with love she fled To Rama, in his leafy shed Where Sita rested by his side, And to the mighty victor cried:

She heard his speech, she heaved her head, Looked upon Hanuman and said:

He ceased: Vibhishan ill at ease Addressed the king in words like these:

He ceased a while by joy subdued, And then his eager speech renewed.

So far she spake by rage impelled, And then the queen deep silence held. He heard her speech full fraught with ill, But spoke no word bewildered still, Gazed on his love once held so dear Who spoke unlovely rede to hear; Then as he slowly pondered o'er The queen's resolve and oath she swore. Once sighing forth, Ah Rama! he Fell prone as falls a smitten tree. His senses lost like one insane, Faint as a sick man weak with pain, Or like a wounded snake dismayed, So lay the king whom earth obeyed. Long burning sighs he slowly heaved, As, conquered by his woe, he grieved, And thus with tears and sobs between His sad faint words addressed the queen:

Then Lakshman spoke, her mind to ease, His kind reply in words like these:

"With this and many a speech beside My failing heart he fortified, With glorious hope my breast inspired, And to his holy home retired. I scaled the mountain height, to view The region round, and looked for you. In ceaseless watchings night and day A hundred seasons passed away, And by the sage's words consoled I wait the hour and chance foretold. But since Nisakar sought the skies. And cast away all earthly ties, Full many a care and doubt has pressed With grievous weight upon my breast. But for the saint who turned aside My purpose I had surely died. Those hopeful words the hermit spake, That bid me live for Rama's sake, Dispel my anguish as the light Of lamp and torch disperse the night."

For sobs and sighs he scarce could speak, And his sad voice came low and weak, As, while his eyes with tears o'erflowed, The burden of his soul he showed. Then by strong effort, bravely made, The torrent of his tears he stayed, Wiped his bright eyes, his grief subdued, And thus, more calm, his speech renewed:

Thus king Sugriva, good and brave, In humble words his answer gave, Softened was Lakshman's angry mood Who thus his friendly speech renewed: "My brother, Vanar King, will see A champion and a friend in thee. So strong art thou, so brave and bold, So pure in thought, so humble-souled, That thou deservest well to reign And all a monarch's bliss to gain. Lend thou my brother aid, and all His foes beneath his arm will fall. Full well the words thou speakest suit A chieftain wise and resolute. With grateful heart that loves the right, And foot that never yields in fight. O come, and my sad brother cheer Who mourns the wife he holds so dear. O pardon, friend, my harsh address, And Rama's frantic bitterness."

"Where is the dauntless heart that free From terror's chilling touch can see Two stranger warriors, strong as those, Equipped with swords and shafts and bows, With mighty arms and large full eyes, Like glorious children of the skies? Bali my foe, I ween, has sent These chiefs to aid his dark intent. Hence doubt and fear disturb me still, For thousands serve a monarch's will, In borrowed garb they come, and those Who walk disguised are counted foes. With secret thoughts they watch their time, And wound fond hearts that fear no crime. My foe in state affairs is wise, And prudent kings have searching eyes. By other hands they strike the foe: By meaner tools the truth they know. Now to those stranger warriors turn, And, less than king, their purpose learn. Mark well the trick and look of each; Observe his form and note his speech. With care their mood and temper sound, And, if their minds be friendly found, With courteous looks and words begin Their confidence and love to win. Then as my friend and envoy speak, And question what the strangers seek. Ask why equipped with shaft and bow Through this wild maze of wood they go. If they, O chief, at first appear Pure of all guile, in heart sincere, Detect in speech and look the sin And treachery that lurk within."

Then Rama nobly calm allayed The wrath that Lakshman's bosom swayed: "What need have we the sword to wield, To bend the bow or lift the shield, If Bharat brave, and wise, and good, Himself has sought this sheltering wood? I sware my father's will to do, And if I now my brother slew What gain in kingship should I find, Despised and scorned by all mankind? Believe me, e'en as I would shrink From poisoned meat or deadly drink, No power or treasure would I win By fall of friend or kith or kin. Brother, believe the words I speak: For your dear sakes alone I seek Duty and pleasure, wealth and gain: A holy life, a happy reign. If royal sway my heart desires, My brothers' weal the wish inspires: Their bliss and safety is my care, By this uplifted bow I swear. 'Twere not so hard for me to gain This broad land girdled by the main, But even Indra's royal might Should ne'er be mine in duty's spite. If any bliss my soul can see Deprived of dear Satrughna, thee, And Bharat, may the flame destroy With ashy gloom the selfish joy. Far dearer than this life of mine, Knowing the custom of our line, His heart with fond affection fraught, Bharat Ayodhya's town resought And hearing when he came that I, With thee and Sita, forced to fly With matted hair and hermit dress Am wandering in the wilderness. While grief his troubled senses storms, And tender love his bosom warms, From every thought of evil clear, Is come to meet his brother here. Some grievous words perchance he spoke Kaikeyi's anger to provoke, Then won the king, and comes to lay Before my feet the royal sway. Hither, methinks, in season due Comes Bharat for an interview, Nor in his secret heart has he One evil thought 'gainst thee or me. What has he done ere now, reflect! How failed in love or due respect To make thee doubt his faith and lay This evil to his charge to-day? Thou shouldst not join with Bharat's name So harsh a speech and idle blame. The blows thy tongue at Bharat deals, My sympathizing bosom feels.

Thus urged Sugriva famed for lore Of moving words, and spoke no more. Then Rama thus in turn addressed The bold Hanuman and the rest: "Chiefs of the Vanar legions each Of you heard Sugriva's speech. What think ye now in time of fear, When peril and distress are near, In every doubt the wise depend For counsel on a faithful friend."

How, urged by stress of any ill, Should sons their father's life-blood spill, Or brother slay in impious strife A brother dearer than his life? If thou these cruel words hast said By strong desire of empire led, My brother Bharat will I pray To give to thee the kingly sway. "Give him the realm," my speech shall be, And Bharat will, methinks, agree."

Nor with Sugriva's aid alone May king and host be overthrown. Thus ere he died--for well he knew-- Spake Bali, and his words are true. I know not what his proofs might be, But speak the words he spake to me. Hence far and wide our lords are sent To raise the mightiest armament, For their return Sugriva waits Ere he can sally from his gates. Still is the oath Sugriva swore Kept firmly even as before: And the great host this day will be Assembled by the king's decree, Ten thousand thousand troops, who wear The form of monkey and of bear, Prepared for thee the war to wage: Then let thy wrath no longer rage. The matrons of the Vanar race See marks of fury in thy face; They see thine eyes like blood are red, And will not yet be comforted."

They heard the royal prince declare The purpose of his fixt despair; And all, by common terror moved, His speech in these sad words approved: "Sugriva's heart is hard and stern, And Rama's thoughts for Sita yearn. Our forfeit lives will surely pay For idle search and long delay, And our fierce king will bid us die The favour of his friend to buy."

They heard the high-souled prince's speech, And thus with ready answer each Of those great lords their chief addressed, With saint Vasishtha and the rest: "Good are the words which thou hast said, By brotherly affection led, Like thine own self, a faithful friend, True to thy brother to the end: A heart like thine must all approve, Which naught from virtue's path can move."

The hermit heard his sons' reply, And burning rage inflamed his eye. Then forth his words of fury burst: "Audacious speech, by virtue cursed! It lifts on end each shuddering hair-- My charge to scorn! my wrath to dare! You, like Vasishtha's evil brood, Shall make the flesh of dogs your food A thousand years in many a birth, And punished thus shall dwell on earth."

"This royal bird with faithful thought For my advantage strove and fought. Slain by the fiend in mortal strife For me he yields his noble life. See, Lakshman, how his wounds have bled; His struggling breath will soon have fled. Faint is his voice, and near to die, He scarce can lift his trembling eye. Jatayus, if thou still can speak, Give, give the answer that I seek. The fate of ravished Sita tell, And how thy mournful chance befell. Say why the giant stole my dame: What have I done that he could blame? What fault in me has Ravan seen That he should rob me of my queen? How looked the lady's moon-bright cheek? What were the words she found to speak? His strength, his might, his deeds declare: And tell the form he loves to wear. To all my questions make reply: Where does the giant's dwelling lie?"

"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."

"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."

When royal Janak's words were done, Joined with Vasishtha Kusik's son, The mighty sage began his speech: "No mind may soar, no thought can reach The glories of Ikshvaku's line, Or, great Videha's King, of thine: None in the whole wide world may vie With them in fame and honours high. Well matched, I ween, in holy bands, These peerless pairs will join their hands. But hear me as I speak once more; Thy brother, skilled in duty's lore, Has at his home a royal pair Of daughters most divinely fair. I for the hands of these sweet two For Bharat and Satrughna sue, Both princes of heroic mould, Wise, fair of form, and lofty-souled. All Dasaratha's sons, I ween, Own each young grace of form and mien: Brave as the Gods are they, nor yield To the great Lords the worlds who shield. By these, good Prince of merits high, Ikshvaku's house with thine ally."

Struck down with overwhelming shame She shrank within her trembling frame. Each word of Rama's like a dart Had pierced the lady to the heart; And from her sweet eyes unrestrained The torrent of her sorrows, rained. Her weeping eyes at length she dried, And thus mid choking sobs replied: "Canst thou, a high-born prince, dismiss A high-born dame with speech like this? Such words befit the meanest hind, Not princely birth and generous mind, By all my virtuous life I swear I am not what thy words declare. If some are faithless, wilt thou find No love and truth in womankind? Doubt others if thou wilt, but own The truth which all my life has shown. If, when the giant seized his prey, Within his hated arms I lay, And felt the grasp I dreaded, blame Fate and the robber, not thy dame. What could a helpless woman do? My heart was mine and still was true, Why when Hanuman sent by thee Sought Lanka's town across the sea, Couldst thou not give, O lord of men, Thy sentence of rejection then? Then in the presence of the chief Death, ready death, had brought relief, Nor had I nursed in woe and pain This lingering life, alas in vain. Then hadst thou shunned the fruitless strife Nor jeopardied thy noble life, But spared thy friends and bold allies Their vain and weary enterprise. Is all forgotten, all? my birth, Named Janak's child, from fostering earth? That day of triumph when a maid My trembling hand in thine I laid? My meek obedience to thy will, My faithful love through joy and ill, That never failed at duty's call-- O King, is all forgotten, all?"

With cloudless lustre rose the sun; The king, his morning worship done, Ordered his heralds to invite The princes and the anchorite. With honour, as the laws decree, The monarch entertained the three. Then to the youths and saintly man Videha's lord this speech began: "O blameless Saint, most welcome thou! If I may please thee tell me how. Speak, mighty lord, whom all revere, 'Tis thine to order, mine to hear."

And as he wept and sighed, In mournful accents faint and slow With words congenial to his woe,

His ears attentive Bharat lent To their resistless argument, Then to his troops the chief who broke His foe's embattled armies spoke: "Here let the troops in silence stay; One step beyond they must not stray. Come Dhrishti and Sumantra, you With me alone the path pursue." Their leader's speech the warriors heard, And from his place no soldier stirred, And Bharat bent his eager eyes Where curling smoke was seen to rise.

Thus by his saintly guide addressed With pleas in sweetest tones expressed, The lord of men in turn replied To wise Vasishtha by his side: "The fondest son's observance ne'er Repays the sire and mother's care: The constant love that food provides, And dress, and every need besides: Their pleasant words still soft and mild, Their nurture of the helpless child: The words which Dasaratha spake, My king and sire, I ne'er will break."

These were her words, and more beside, By wrath and bitter hate supplied. Then by her woe and fear o'erthrown She wept again and made her moan. As long she wept in grief and dread, Scarce conscious of the words she said, The wicked giant onward fled And bore her through the air. As firm he held the Maithil dame, Still wildly struggling, o'er her frame With grief and bitter misery came The trembling of despair.