Ramayana on Speech

As, clad in mendicant's disguise, He questioned thus his destined prize, She to the seeming saintly man The story of her life began. "My guest is he," she thought, "and I, To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:" "Child of a noble sire I spring From Janak, fair Videha's king. May every good be thine! my name Is Sita, Rama's cherished dame. Twelve winters with my lord I spent Most happily with sweet content In the rich home of Raghu's line, And every earthly joy was mine. Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then His peers advised the king of men, Rama, my lord, to consecrate Joint ruler of his ancient state. But when the rites were scarce begun, To consecrate Ikshvaku's son, The queen Kaikeyi, honoured dame, Sought of her lord an ancient claim. Her plea of former service pressed, And made him grant her new request, To banish Rama to the wild And consecrate instead her child. This double prayer on him, the best And truest king, she strongly pressed: "Mine eyes in sleep I will not close, Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose. This very day my death shall bring If Rama be anointed king." As thus she spake in envious ire, The aged king, my husband's sire, Besought with fitting words; but she Was cold and deaf to every plea. As yet my days are few; eighteen The years of life that I have seen; And Rama, best of all alive, Has passed of years a score and five-- Rama the great and gentle, through All region famed as pure and true, Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall, With tender heart that cares for all. But Dasaratha, led astray By woman's wile and passion's sway, By his strong love of her impelled, The consecrating rites withheld. When, hopeful of the promised grace, My Rama sought his father's face, The queen Kaikeyi, ill at ease, Spoke to my lord brief words like these: "Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me The words thy father says to thee: "I yield this day to Bharat's hand, Free from all foes, this ancient land.

Then anger swelled in Ravan's breast, Who fiercely thus the dame addressed: "'Tis ever thus: in vain we sue To woman, and her favour woo. A lover's humble words impel Her wayward spirit to rebel. The love of thee that fills my soul Still keeps my anger in control, As charioteers with bit and rein The swerving of the steed restrain. The love that rules me bids me spare Thy forfeit life, O thou most fair. For this, O Sita, have I borne The keen reproach, the bitter scorn, And the fond love thou boastest yet For that poor wandering anchoret; Else had the words which thou hast said Brought death upon thy guilty head. Two months, fair dame, I grant thee still To bend thee to thy lover's will. If when that respite time is fled Thou still refuse to share my bed, My cooks shall mince thy limbs with steel And serve thee for my morning meal."(834)

He ceased: then rapture loosed each tongue: From men and dames, from old and young, One long, one universal cry, 'Tis he, 'tis Rama, smote the sky. All lighted down with eager speed From elephant and car and steed, And every joyful eye intent On Rama's moonbright face was bent. Entranced a moment Bharat gazed: Then reverential hands he raised, And on his brother humbly pressed The honours due to welcome guest. Then Bharat clomb the car to greet His king and bowed him at his feet, Till Rama raised him face to face And held him in a close embrace. Then Lakshman and the Maithil dame He greeted as he spoke his name(1026) He greeted next, supreme in place, The sovereign of the Vanar race, And Jambavan and Bali's son, And lords and chiefs, omitting none.(1027) Sugriva to his heart he pressed And thus with grateful words addressed: "Four brothers, Vanar king, were we, And now we boast a fifth in thee. By kindly acts a friend we know: Offence and wrong proclaim the foe." To King Vibhishan then he spake: "Well hast thou fought for Rama's sake." Nor was the brave Satrughna slow His reverential love to show To both his brothers, as was meet, And venerate the lady's feet. Then Rama to his mother came, Saw her pale cheek and wasted frame, With gentle words her heart consoled, And clasped her feet with loving hold. Then at Sumitra's feet he bent, And fair Kaikeyi's, reverent, Greeted each dame from chief to least, And bowed him to the household priest. Up rose a shout from all the throng: "O welcome, Rama, mourned so long. Welcome, Kausalya's joy and pride," Ten hundred thousand voices cried. Then Bharat placed, in duty taught, On Rama's feet the shoes he brought: "My King," he cried, "receive again The pledge preserved through years of pain, The rule and lordship of the land Entrusted to my weaker hand. No more I sigh o'er sorrows past, My birth and life are blest at last In the glad sight this day has shown, When Rama comes to rule his own."

Then with a gift the saints drew near To Bhrigu's son whose look was fear, And Rama! Rama! soft they cried. The gift he took, no word replied. Then Bhrigu's son his silence broke And thus to Rama Rama spoke:

"Let one with gracious speech draw near And gently charm Vibhishan's ear, Till he the soothing witchery feel And all his secret heart reveal. So thou his aims and hopes shalt know, And hail the friend or shun the foe."

Then Indra, he whose fiery stroke Slew furious Paka, turned and spoke: "A glorious day, O chief, is this, Rich with the fruit of lasting bliss. Well pleased are we: we love thee well Now speak, thy secret wishes tell."

The demon's eye with rage grew red, And thus in furious tone he said: "If thou from fear or sloth decline To match thy strength in war with mine, Where shall I find a champion, say, To meet me burning for the fray?" He spoke: Himalaya, skilled in lore Of eloquence, replied once more, And, angered in his righteous mind, Addressed the chief of demon kind: "The Vanar Bali, brave and wise, Son of the God who rules the skies,(570) Sways, glorious in his high renown, Kishkindha his imperial town. Well may that valiant lord who knows Each art of war his might oppose To thine, in equal battle set, As Namuehi(571) and Indra met. Go, if thy soul desire the fray; To Bali's city speed away, And that unconquered hero meet Whose fame is high for warlike feat." He listened to the Lord of Snow, And, his proud heart with rage aglow, Sped swift away and lighted down By vast Kishkindha, Bali's town. With pointed horns to strike and gore The semblance of a bull he bore, Huge as a cloud that downward bends Ere the full flood of rain descends. Impelled by pride and rage and hate, He thundered at Kishkindha's gate; And with his bellowing, like the sound Of pealing drums, he shook the ground, He rent the earth and prostrate threw The trees that near the portal grew. King Bali from the bowers within Indignant heard the roar and din. Then, moonlike mid the stars, with all His dames he hurried to the wall; And to the fiend this speech, expressed In clear and measured words, addressed: "Know me for monarch. Bali styled, Of Vanar tribes that roam the wild. Say why dost thou this gate molest, And bellowing thus disturb our rest? I know thee, mighty fiend: beware And guard thy life with wiser care." He spoke: and thus the fiend returned, While red with rage his eyeballs burned: "What! speak when all thy dames are nigh And hero-like thy foe defy? Come, meet me in the fight this day, And learn my strength by bold assay. Or shall I spare thee, and relent Until the coming night be spent?

"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:

Then Trijata,(958) of gentler mould Though Rakshas born, her grief consoled: "Dear Queen, thy causeless woe dispel: Thy husband lives, and all is well. Look round: in every Vanar face The light of joyful hope I trace. Not thus, believe me, shine the eyes Of warriors when their leader dies. An Army, when the chief is dead, Flies from the field dispirited. Here, undisturbed in firm array, The Vanars by the brothers stay. Love prompts my speech; no longer grieve; Ponder my counsel, and believe. These lips of mine from earliest youth Have spoken, and shall speak, the truth. Deep in my heart thy gentle grace And patient virtues hold their place. Turn, lady, turn once more thine eye: Though pierced with shafts the heroes lie, On brows and cheeks with blood-drops wet The light of beauty lingers yet. Such beauty ne'er is found in death, But vanishes with parting breath. O, trust the hope these tokens give: The heroes are not dead, but live."

In spite of all her tender care, Her noble son, her face most fair, Another queen I could prefer And for thy sake neglected her, But now, O Queen, my heart is grieved For love and care by thee received, E'en as the sickening wretch repents His dainty meal and condiments. And how will Queen Sumitra trust The husband whom she finds unjust, Seeing my Rama driven hence Dishonoured, and for no offence? Ah! the Videhan bride will hear A double woe, a double fear, Two whelming sorrows at one breath, Her lord's disgrace, his father's death. Mine aged bosom she will wring And kill me with her sorrowing, Sad as a fair nymph left to weep Deserted on Himalaya's steep. For short will be my days, I ween, When I with mournful eyes have seen My Rama wandering forth alone And heard dear Sita sob and moan. Ah me! my fond belief I rue. Vile traitress, loved as good and true, As one who in his thirst has quaffed, Deceived by looks, a deadly draught. Ah! thou hast slain me, murderess, while Soothing my soul with words of guile, As the wild hunter kills the deer Lured from the brake his song to hear. Soon every honest tongue will fling Reproach on the dishonest king; The people's scorn in every street The seller of his child will meet, And such dishonour will be mine As whelms a Brahman drunk with wine. Ah me, for my unhappy fate, Compelled thy words to tolerate! Such woe is sent to scourge a crime Committed in some distant time. For many a day with sinful care I cherished thee, thou sin and snare, Kept thee, unwitting, like a cord Destined to bind its hapless lord. Mine hours of ease I spent with thee, Nor deemed my love my death would be, While like a heedless child I played, On a black snake my hand I laid. A cry from every mouth will burst And all the world will hold me curst, Because I saw my high-souled son Unkinged, unfathered, and undone; "The king by power of love beguiled Is weaker than a foolish child, His own beloved son to make An exile for a woman's sake.

To her, as thus she weeping cried, Raghu's illustrious son replied: "Sita, my honoured sire's decree Commands me to the woods to flee. O high-born lady, nobly bred In the good paths thy footsteps tread, Hear, Janak's daughter, while I tell The story as it all befell. Of old my father true and brave Two boons to Queen Kaikeyi gave. Through these the preparations made For me to-day by her are stayed, For he is bound to disallow This promise by that earlier vow. In Dandak forest wild and vast Must fourteen years by me be passed. My father's will makes Bharat heir, The kingdom and the throne to share. Now, ere the lonely wild I seek, I come once more with thee to speak. In Bharat's presence, O my dame, Ne'er speak with pride of Rama's name: Another's eulogy to hear Is hateful to a monarch's ear. Thou must with love his rule obey To whom my father yields the sway. With love and sweet observance learn His grace, and more the king's, to earn. Now, that my father may not break The words of promise that he spake, To the drear wood my steps are bent: Be firm, good Sita, and content. Through all that time, my blameless spouse, Keep well thy fasts and holy vows. Rise from thy bed at break of day, And to the Gods due worship pay. With meek and lowly love revere The lord of men, my father dear, And reverence to Kausalya show, My mother, worn with eld and woe: By duty's law, O best of dames, High worship from thy love she claims, Nor to the other queens refuse Observance, rendering each her dues: By love and fond attention shown They are my mothers like mine own. Let Bharat and Satrughna bear In thy sweet love a special share: Dear as my life, O let them be Like brother and like son to thee. In every word and deed refrain From aught that Bharat's soul may pain: He is Ayodhya's king and mine, The head and lord of all our line. For those who serve and love them much With weariless endeavour, touch And win the gracious hearts of kings. While wrath from disobedience springs.

"O daughter of a noble line, Whose steps from virtue ne'er decline, Remain, thy duties here pursue, As my fond heart would have thee do. Now hear me, Sita, fair and weak, And do the words that I shall speak. Attend and hear while I explain Each danger in the wood, each pain. Thy lips have spoken: I condemn The foolish words that fell from them. This senseless plan, this wish of thine To live a forest life, resign. The names of trouble and distress Suit well the tangled wilderness. In the wild wood no joy I know, A forest life is nought but woe. The lion in his mountain cave Answers the torrents as they rave, And forth his voice of terror throws: The wood, my love, is full of woes. There mighty monsters fearless play, And in their maddened onset slay The hapless wretch who near them goes: The wood, my love, is full of woes. 'Tis hard to ford each treacherous flood, So thick with crocodiles and mud, Where the wild elephants repose: The wood, my love, is full of woes. Or far from streams the wanderer strays Through thorns and creeper-tangled ways, While round him many a wild-cock crows: The wood, my love, is full of woes. On the cold ground upon a heap Of gathered leaves condemned to sleep, Toil-wearied, will his eyelids close: The wood, my love, is full of woes. Long days and nights must he content His soul with scanty aliment, What fruit the wind from branches blows: The wood, my love, is full of woes. O Sita, while his strength may last, The ascetic in the wood must fast, Coil on his head his matted hair, And bark must be his only wear. To Gods and spirits day by day The ordered worship he must pay, And honour with respectful care Each wandering guest who meets him there. The bathing rites he ne'er must shun At dawn, at noon, at set of sun, Obedient to the law he knows: The wood, my love, is full of woes. To grace the altar must be brought The gift of flowers his hands have sought-- The debt each pious hermit owes: The wood, my love, is full of woes.

The Vanar watched concealed: each word Of Sita and the fiends he heard, And in a maze of anxious thought His quick-conceiving bosom wrought. "At length my watchful eyes have seen, Pursued so long, the Maithil queen, Sought by our Vanar hosts in vain From east to west, from main to main. A cautious spy have I explored The palace of the Rakhshas lord, And thoroughly learned, concealed from sight, The giant monarch's power and might. And now my task must be to cheer The royal dame who sorrows here. For if I go, and soothe her not, A captive in this distant spot, She, when she finds no comfort nigh, Will sink beneath her woes and die. How shall my tale, if unconsoled I leave her, be to Rama told? How shall I answer Raghu's son, "No message from my darling, none?" The husband's wrath, to fury fanned, Will scorch me lifeless where I stand, Or if I urge my lord the king To Lanka's isle his hosts to bring, In vain will be his zeal, in vain The toil, the danger, and the pain. Yea, this occasion must I seize That from her guard the lady frees,(846) To win her ear with soft address And whisper hope in dire distress. Shall I, a puny Vanar, choose The Sanskrit men delight to use? If, as a man of Brahman kind, I speak the tongue by rules refined, The lady, yielding to her fears, Will think 'tis Ravan's voice she hears. I must assume my only plan-- The language of a common(847) man. Yet, if the lady sees me nigh, In terror she will start and cry; And all the demon band, alarmed, Will come with various weapons armed, With their wild shouts the grove will fill, And strive to take me, or to kill. And, at my death or capture, dies The hope of Rama's enterprise. For none can leap, save only me, A hundred leagues across the sea. It is a sin in me, I own, To talk with Janak's child alone. Yet greater is the sin if I Be silent, and the lady die. First I will utter Rama's name, And laud the hero's gifts and fame. Perchance the name she holds so dear Will soothe the faithful lady's fear."

The host his order well obeyed, And halting there in silence stayed Watching where from the thicket's shade They saw the smoke appear. And joy through all the army ran, "Soon shall we meet," thought every man, "The prince we hold so dear."

How, when the frosty morn is dim, Shall Sarju be a bath for him Nursed with all love and tender care, So delicate and young and fair. How bright his hue! his brilliant eye With the broad lotus leaf may vie. By fortune stamped for happy fate, His graceful form is tall and straight. In duty skilled, his words are truth: He proudly rules each lust of youth. Though his strong arm smites down the foe, In gentle speech his accents flow. Yet every joy has he resigned And cleaves to thee with heart and mind. Thus by the deeds that he has done A name in heaven has Bharat won, For in his life he follows yet Thy steps, O banished anchoret. Thus faithful Bharat, nobly wise, The proverb of the world belies: "No men, by mothers' guidance led, The footsteps of their fathers tread." How could Kaikeyi, blest to be Spouse of the king our sire, and see A son like virtuous Bharat, blot Her glory with so foul a plot!"

"In vain the softer gifts that grace The good are offered to the base. Long-suffering, patience, gentle speech Their thankless hearts can never reach. The world to him its honour pays Whose ready tongue himself can praise, Who scorns the true, and hates the right, Whose hand is ever raised to smite. Each milder art is tried in vain: It wins no glory, but disdain. And victory owns no softer charm Than might which nerves a warrior's arm. My humble suit is still denied By Ocean's overweening pride. This day the monsters of the deep In throes of death shall wildly leap. My shafts shall rend the serpents curled In caverns of the watery world, Disclose each sunless depth and bare The tangled pearl and coral there. Away with mercy! at a time Like this compassion is a crime. Welcome, the battle and the foe! My bow! my arrows and my bow! This day the Vanars' feet shall tread The conquered Sea's exhausted bed, And he who never feared before Shall tremble to his farthest shore."

The royal lady wounded through The bosom with the darts that flew Launched from the hump-back's tongue Pressed both her hands upon her side, And o'er and o'er again she cried With wildering fury stung: "Yes, it shall be thy task to tell That I have hurried hence to dwell In Yama's realms of woe, Or happy Bharat shall be king, And doomed to years of wandering Kausalya's son shall go. I heed not dainty viands now Fair wreaths of flowers to twine my brow, Soft balm or precious scent: My very life I count as naught, Nothing on earth can claim my thought But Rama's banishment." She spoke these words of cruel ire; Then stripping off her gay attire, The cold bare floor she pressed. So, falling from her home on high, Some lovely daughter of the sky Upon the ground might rest. With darkened brow and furious mien, Stripped of her gems and wreath, the queen In spotless beauty lay, Like heaven obscured with gathering cloud, When shades of midnight darkness shroud Each star's expiring ray.

Thus to his mother wild with grief: Then thus to Lakshman spake the chief Of those by whom the bow is bent, Mid all who speak, most eloquent: "I know what love for me thou hast, What firm devotion unsurpassed: Thy valour and thy worth I know, And glory that appals the foe. Blest youth, my mother's woe is great, It bends her 'neath its matchless weight: No claims will she, with blinded eyes, Of truth and patience recognize. For duty is supreme in place, And truth is duty's noblest base. Obedient to my sire's behest I serve the cause of duty best. For man should truly do whate'er To mother, Brahman, sire, he sware: He must in duty's path remain, Nor let his word be pledged in vain. And, O my brother, how can I Obedience to this charge deny? Kaikeyi's tongue my purpose spurred, But 'twas my sire who gave the word. Cast these unholy thoughts aside Which smack of war and Warriors' pride; To duty's call, not wrath attend, And tread the path which I commend."

Thus pouring forth laments, the king Girt by the people's crowded ring, Entered the noble bower like one New-bathed when funeral rites are done. Where'er he looked naught met his gaze But empty houses, courts, and ways. Closed were the temples: countless feet No longer trod the royal street, And thinking of his son he viewed Men weak and worn and woe-subdued. As sinks the sun into a cloud, So passed he on, and wept aloud, Within that house no more to be The dwelling of the banished three, Brave Rama, his Vedehan bride, And Lakshman by his brother's side: Like broad still waters, when the king Of all the birds that ply the wing Has swooped from heaven and borne away The glittering snakes that made them gay. With choking sobs and voice half spent The king renewed his sad lament: With broken utterance faint and low Scarce could he speak these words of woe: "My steps to Rama's mother guide, And place me by Kausalya's side: There, only there my heart may know Some little respite from my woe."

"With matted hair above thy brows, With bow and shaft and this thy spouse, How hast thou sought in hermit dress The giant-haunted wilderness? What dost thou here? The cause explain: Why art thou come, and what to gain?" As Surpanakha questioned so, Rama, the terror of the foe, In answer to the monster's call, With fearless candour told her all. "King Dasaratha reigned of old, Like Gods celestial brave and bold. I am his eldest son and heir, And Rama is the name I bear. This brother, Lakshman, younger born, Most faithful love to me has sworn. My wife, this princess, dear to fame, Is Sita the Videhan dame. Obedient to my sire's behest And by the queen my mother pressed, To keep the law and merit win, I sought this wood to harbour in. But speak, for I of thee in turn Thy name, and race, and sire would learn. Thou art of giant race, I ween. Changing at will thy form and mien. Speak truly, and the cause declare That bids thee to these shades repair."

Each lord beheld with troubled heart Those masters of the bowman's art, And left the mountain side to seek Sure refuge on a loftier peak. The Vanar chief in rapid flight Found shelter on a towering height, And all the band with one accord Were closely gathered round their lord. Their course the same, with desperate leap Each made his way from steep to steep, And speeding on in wild career Filled every height with sudden fear. Each heart was struck with mortal dread, As on their course the Vanars sped, While trees that crowned the steep were bent And crushed beneath them as they went. As in their eager flight they pressed For safety to each mountain crest, The wild confusion struck with fear Tiger and cat and wandering deer. The lords who watched Sugriva's will Were gathered on the royal hill, And all with reverent hands upraised Upon their king and leader gazed. Sugriva feared some evil planned, Some train prepared by Bali's hand. But, skilled in words that charm and teach, Thus Hanuman(538) began his speech:

He ceased: his finger bathed in dew Across Sugriva's eyes he drew; From dulling mist his vision freed, And spoke these words to suit the need: "No time is this for fear: away With fainting heart and weak delay. Now, e'en the tear which sorrow wrings From loving eyes destruction brings. Up, on to battle at the head Of those brave troops which Rama led. Or guardian by his side remain Till sense and strength the prince regain. Soon shall the trance-bound pair revive, And from our hearts all sorrow drive. Though prostrate on the earth he lie, Deem not that Rama's death is nigh; Deem not that Lakshmi will forget Or leave her darling champion yet. Rest here and be thy heart consoled; Ponder my words, be firm and bold. I, foremost in the battlefield, Will rally all who faint or yield. Their staring eyes betray their fear; They whisper each in other's ear. They, when they hear my cheering cry And see the friend of Rama nigh, Will cast their gloom and fears away Like faded wreaths of yesterday."

for none but thou Could cleave my arms with trenchant stroke: True are the words the hermit spoke. Now let me, best of warriors, lend My counsel, and thy plans befriend, And aid thee with advice in turn If thou with fire my corse wilt burn."

The saint Vasishtha, best of all Whose words with moving wisdom fall, Bharat, Kaikeyi's son, addressed, Whom burning fires of grief distressed: "O Prince, whose fame is widely spread, Enough of grief: be comforted. The time is come: arise, and lay Upon the pyre the monarch's clay."

Thus, by fraternal love possessed, His firm resolve the prince expressed, Then to Sumantra, deeply read In holy texts, he turned and said: "Sumantra, rise without delay, And as I bid my words obey. Give orders for the march with speed, And all the army hither lead."

Some to his feet with reverence pressed, Some in his arms he strained: Each friend, with kindly words addressed, Due share of honour gained. Then, by their mighty woe o'ercome, The weeping heroes' cry Filled, like the roar of many a drum, Hill, cavern, earth, and sky.

Vibhishan ceased: at Rama's look The Rakshas envoys quailed and shook; Then suppliant hand to hand they pressed And thus Ikshvaku's son addressed: "O Rama, bear the truth we speak: Our monarch Ravan bade us seek The Vanar legions and survey Their numbers, strength, and vast array."

The shades of falling night concealed The carnage of the battle field, Which, bearing each a blazing brand, Hanuman and Vibhishan scanned, Moving with slow and anxious tread Among the dying and the dead. Sad was the scene of slaughter shown Where'er the torches' light was thrown. Here mountain forms of Vanars lay Whose heads and limbs were lopped away, Arms, legs and fingers strewed the ground, And severed heads lay thick around. The earth was moist with sanguine streams, And sighs were heard and groans and screams. There lay Sugriva still and cold, There Angad, once so brave and bold. There Jambavan his might reposed, There Vegadarsi's eyes were closed; There in the dust was Nala's pride, And Dwivid lay by Mainda's side. Where'er they looked the ensanguined plain Was strewn with myriads of the slain;(990) They sought with keenly searching eyes King Jambavan supremely wise. His strength had failed by slow decay, And pierced with countless shafts he lay. They saw, and hastened to his side, And thus the sage Vibhishan cried: "Thee, monarch of the bears, we seek: Speak if thou yet art living, speak."

"Cease, O beloved, cease to blame Our royal father's second dame. Still speak of Bharat first in place Of old Ikshvaku's princely race. My heart, so firmly bent but now To dwell in woods and keep my vow, Half melting as I hear thee speak Of Bharat's love, grows soft and weak, With tender joy I bring to mind His speeches ever sweet and kind. That dear as Amrit took the sense With most enchanting influence. Ah, when shall I, no more to part, Meet Bharat of the mighty heart? When, O my brother, when shall we The good and brave Satrughna see?" Thus as he poured his fond lament The son of Raghu onward went: They reached the river, and the three Bathed them in fair Godavari. Libations of the stream they paid To every deity and shade, With hymns of praise, the Sun on high And sinless Gods to glorify. Fresh from the purifying tide Resplendent Rama came, With Lakshman ever by his side, And the sweet Maithil dame. So Rudra shines by worlds adored, In glory undefiled, When Nandi(455) stands beside his lord, And King Himalaya's child.(456)

The Vanar knew the lady's thought,(856) And gave the answer fondly sought: "Bright as the sun that lights the sky Dear as the Moon to every eye. He scatters blessings o'er the land Like bounties from Vaisravan's(857) hand. Like Vishnu strong and unsubdued, Unmatched in might and fortitude. Wise, truthful as the Lord of Speech, With gentle words he welcomes each. Of noblest mould and form is he, Like love's incarnate deity. He quells the fury of the foe, And strikes when justice prompts the blow. Safe in the shadow of his arm The world is kept from scathe and harm. Now soon shall Ravan rue his theft, And fall, of realm and life bereft. For Rama's wrathful hand shall wing His shafts against the giant king. The day, O Maithil Queen, is near When he and Lakshman will be here, And by their side Sugriva lead His countless hosts of Vanar breed. Sugriva's servant, I, by name Hanuman, by his order came. With desperate leap I crossed the sea To Lanka's isle in search of thee, No traitor, gentle dame, am I: Upon my word and faith rely."

A thousand years had passed away, When Brahma, Sire whom all obey, Addressed in pleasant words like these Him rich in long austerities: "Thou by the penance, Kusik's son, A place 'mid royal saints hast won. Pleased with thy constant penance, we This lofty rank assign to thee."

An arrow on the string he laid, And rushing near the bird surveyed, While earth to ocean's distant side Trembled beneath his furious stride. With blood and froth on neck and beak The dying bird essayed to speak, And with a piteous voice, distressed, Thus Dasaratha's son addressed:

Then joyous Hanuman, the best Of all the Vanar kind, addressed These words to Rama, trained of yore In all the arts of speakers' lore:(549) "Why do your feet this forest tread By silvan life inhabited, This awful maze of tree and thorn Which Pampa's flowering groves adorn?"

The giant viewed with earnest ken The Vanars and the lords of men; Then thus, with grief and anger moved, In bitter tone the spies reproved: "Can faithful servants hope to please Their master with such fates as these? Or hope ye with wild words to wring The bosom of your lord and king? Such words were better said by those Who come arrayed our mortal foes. In vain your ears have heard the sage, And listened to the lore of age, Untaught, though lectured many a day, The first great lesson, to obey, 'Tis marvel Ravan reigns and rules Whose counsellors are blind and fools. Has death no terrors that ye dare To tempt your monarch to despair, From whose imperial mandate flow Disgrace and honour, weal and woe? Yea, forest trees, when flames are fanned About their scorching trunks, may stand; But naught can set the sinner free When kings the punishment decree. I would not in mine anger spare The traitorous foe-praising pair, But years of faithful service plead For pardon, and they shall not bleed. Henceforth to me be dead: depart, Far from my presence and my heart."

Urged by the lord of men to speak, Whose sobbing voice came faint and weak, Thus he, while tears his utterance broke, In answer to the monarch spoke: "Hear then the words that Rama said, Resolved in duty's path to tread. Joining his hands, his head he bent, And gave this message, reverent: "Sumantra, to my father go, Whose lofty mind all people know: Bow down before him, as is meet, And in my stead salute his feet. Then to the queen my mother bend, And give the greeting that I send: Ne'er may her steps from duty err, And may it still be well with her. And add this word: "O Queen, pursue Thy vows with faithful heart and true; And ever at due season turn Where holy fires of worship burn. And, lady, on our lord bestow Such honour as to Gods we owe. Be kind to every queen: let pride And thought of self be cast aside. In the king's fond opinion raise Kaikeyi, by respect and praise. Let the young Bharat ever be Loved, honoured as the king by thee: Thy king-ward duty ne'er forget: High over all are monarchs set."

"Through every land our way we took To visit hill and wood and brook, And all thy hosts from east to west Flock hither at their lord's behest." Sugriva with delighted look The present of his envoys took, Then bade them go, with gracious speech Rewarding and dismissing each.

The minstrel daughters of the skies Looked on her woe with pitying eyes, And sun-bright children of the Gods(835) Consoled the queen with smiles and nods. She saw, and with her heart at ease, Addressed the fiend in words like these; "Hast thou no friend to love thee, none In all this isle to bid thee shun The ruin which thy crime will bring On thee and thine, O impious King? Who in all worlds save thee could woo Me, Rama's consort pure and true, As though he tempted with his love Queen Sachi(836) on her throne above? How canst thou hope, vile wretch, to fly The vengeance that e'en now is nigh, When thou hast dared, untouched by shame, To press thy suit on Rama's dame? Where woods are thick and grass is high A lion and a hare may lie; My Rama is the lion, thou Art the poor hare beneath the bough. Thou railest at the lord of men, But wilt not stand within his ken. What! is that eye unstricken yet Whose impious glance on me was set? Still moves that tongue that would not spare The wife of Dasaratha's heir?"

Thus spoke the dame in mournful mood, And Hanuman his speech renewed: "O lady, by thy lord's decree I come a messenger to thee. Thy lord is safe with steadfast friends, And greeting to his queen he sends, And Lakshman, ever faithful bows His reverent head to Rama's spouse."

These words he heard the peasants say, Who dwelt in hamlets by the way, And, lord of all the realm by right, Through Kosala pursued his flight. Through the auspicious flood, at last, Of Vedasruti's stream he passed, And onward to the place he sped By Saint Agastya tenanted. Still on for many an hour he hied, And crossed the stream whose cooling tide Rolls onward till she meets the sea, The herd-frequented Gomati.(321) Borne by his rapid horses o'er, He reached that river's further shore. And Syandika's, whose swan-loved stream Resounded with the peacock's scream. Then as he journeyed on his road To his Videhan bride he showed The populous land which Manu old To King Ikshvaku gave to hold. The glorious prince, the lord of men Looked on the charioteer, and then Voiced like a wild swan, loud and clear, He spake these words and bade him hear: "When shall I, with returning feet My father and my mother meet? When shall I lead the hunt once more In bloomy woods on Sarju's shore? Most eagerly I long to ride Urging the chase on Sarju's side. For royal saints have seen no blame In this, the monarch's matchless game."

Thus with disordered senses, faint With woe he poured his sad complaint, And then, a better way to teach, Wise Lakshman spoke in seemly speech: "Up, brother dear, thy grief subdue, With heart and soul thy search renew. When woes oppress and dangers threat Brave effort ne'er was fruitless yet."

Thus to her virtuous guest she sued And he, with heavenly lore endued, Words such as these in turn addressed To her with equal knowledge blest: "Danu himself the power has told Of thy great masters lofty-souled. Now if thou will, mine eyes would fain Assurance of their glories gain."

When Rama and his brother heard The pious prayer the dame preferred, Filled full of transport and amazed They marvelled as her words they praised. Then Rama to the votaress said Whose holy vows were perfected: "Go, lady, where thou fain wouldst be, O thou who well hast honoured me."

Then fierce the giant's fury blazed As on Hanuman's form he gazed, And shaken by each wild surmise He spake aloud with flashing eyes: "Can this be Nandi(882) standing here, The mighty one whom all revere? Who once on high Kailasa's hill Pronounced the curse that haunts me still? Or is the woodland creature one Of Asur race, or Bali's(883) son? The wretch with searching question try: Learn who he is, and whence; and why He marred the glory of the grove, And with my captains fiercely strove." Prahasta heard his lord's behest, And thus the Vanar chief addressed: "O monkey stranger be consoled: Fear not, and let thy heart be bold. If thou by Indra's mandate sent Thy steps to Lanka's isle hast bent, With fearless words the cause explain, And freedom thou shalt soon regain. Or if thou comest as a spy Despatched by Vishnu in the sky, Or sent by Yama, or the Lord Of Riches, hast our town explored; Proved by the prowess thou hast shown No monkey save in form alone; Speak boldly all the truth, and be Released from bonds, unharmed and free. But falsehood spoken to our king Swift punishment of death will bring."

Thus pressed, the queen began to tell The story as each thing befell, And gave her son in words like these, The mournful news she meant to please: "The prince is gone in hermit dress To Dandak's mighty wilderness, And Lakshman brave and Sita share The wanderings of the exile there."

He spoke: nor long did Rama wait His sire's dear friend to venerate: He bade the bird declare his name And the high race of which he came. When Raghu's son had spoken, he Declared his name and pedigree, His words prolonging to disclose How all the things that be arose:

As Khara's speech the demon heard, With sudden joy her heart was stirred: She fondly praised him as the boast And glory of the giant host. First moved to ire by taunts and stings, Now soothed by gentle flatterings, To Dushan, who his armies led, The demon Khara spoke, and said:

Sugriva spoke inflamed with ire, Scanned Rama with a glance of fire, Pondered a while in silent mood. And thus again his speech renewed: "All lands with Bali's glories ring, A valiant, strong, and mighty king; In conscious power unused to yield, A hero first in every field. His wondrous deeds his might declare, Deeds Gods might scarcely do or dare; And on this power reflecting still I roam on Rishyamuka's hill. Awed by my brother's might I rove, In doubt and fear, from grove to grove, While Hanuman, my chosen friend, And faithful lords my steps attend; And now, O true to friendship's tie, I hail in thee my best ally. My surest refuge from my foes, And steadfast as the Lord of Snows. Still, when I muse how strong and bold Is cruel Bali, evil-souled, But ne'er, O chief of Raghu's line, Have seen what strength in war is thine, Though in my heart I may not dare Doubt thy great might, despise, compare, Thoughts of his fearful deeds will rise And fill my soul with sad surmise. Speech, form, and trust which naught may move Thy secret strength and glory prove, As smouldering ashes dimly show The dormant fires that live below."

Thus Sita spake, and he who knew His duty, to its orders true, Was still reluctant as the woes Of forest life before him rose. He sought to soothe her grief, to dry The torrent from each brimming eye, And then, her firm resolve to shake, These words the pious hero spake:

Sumantra thus, palm joined to palm, Poured forth his words of bane and balm, With keen reproach, with pleading kind, Striving to move Kaikeyi's mind. In vain he prayed, in vain reproved, She heard unsoftened and unmoved. Nor could the eyes that watched her view One yielding look, one change of hue.

Cheered by the words that Rama spoke, Joy in the Vanar's breast awoke, And, as his friendly mood he knew, His thoughts to King Sugriva flew: "Again," he mused, "my high-souled lord Shall rule, to kingly state restored; Since one so mighty comes to save, And freely gives the help we crave."

Then Sita joined her hands, and sighed, "O, may thy words be verified!" The car was turned, which fleet as thought The mourning queen to Lanka brought. They led her to the garden, where Again she yielded to despair, Lamenting for the chiefs who bled On earth's cold bosom with the dead.

Then Dasaratha, best of those Whose speech in graceful order flows, With gathered saints on every side, Thus to the lord of earth replied: "A truth is this I long have known, A favour is the giver's own. What thou shalt bid, O good and true, We, as our power permits, will do."

Thus in her rage the long-eyed dame Spoke her dire speech untouched by shame. Then, answering, Dasaratha spoke: "Why, having bowed me to the yoke, Dost thou, must cruel, spur and goad Me who am struggling with the load? Why didst thou not oppose at first This hope, vile Queen, so fondly nursed?"

Then slowly gathering sense and strength The weeping hero rose at length, And words like these to Guha spake, That bade Kausalya comfort take: "Where lodged the prince that night? and where Lakshman the brave, and Sita fair? Show me the couch whereon he lay, Tell me the food he ate, I pray."

But Ravan scorned the rede he gave In timely words to warn and save, E'en as the wretch who hates to live Rejects the herb the leeches give. By fate to sin and ruin spurred, That sage advice the giant heard, Then in reproaches hard and stern Thus to Maricha spoke in turn:

These words the boy could scarcely say, As tortured by the shaft he lay, Twisting his helpless body round, Then trembling senseless on the ground. Then from his bleeding side I drew The rankling shaft that pierced him through. With death's last fear my face he eyed, And, rich in store of penance, died."

As thus the fiend's hot fury blazed, His trembling hands Akampan raised, And with a voice which fear made weak, Permission craved his tale to speak. King Ravan gave the leave he sought, And bade him tell the news he brought. His courage rose, his voice grew bold, And thus his mournful tale he told:

Then Rama, as their way they made, Saw near at hand a lovely shade, And, as he gazed upon the trees, Spake to Sugriva words like these; "Those stately trees in beauty rise, Fair as a cloud in autumn skies. I fain, my friend, would learn from thee What pleasant grove is that I see."

Again the Vanar chief began Each chamber, bower, and hall to scan. In vain: he found not her he sought, And pondered thus in bitter thought: "Ah me the Maithil queen is slain: She, ever true and free from stain, The fiend's entreaty has denied, And by his cruel hand has died. Or has she sunk, by terror killed, When first she saw the palace filled With female monsters evil miened Who wait upon the robber fiend? No battle fought, no might displayed, In vain this anxious search is made; Nor shall my steps, made slow by shame, Because I failed to find the dame, Back to our lord the king be bent, For he is swift to punishment. In every bower my feet have been, The dames of Ravan have I seen; But Rama's spouse I seek in vain, And all my toil is fruitless pain. How shall I meet the Vanar band I left upon the ocean strand? How, when they bid me speak, proclaim These tidings of defeat and shame? How shall I look on Angad's eye? What words will Jambavan reply? Yet dauntless hearts will never fail To win success though foes assail, And I this sorrow will subdue And search the palace through and through, Exploring with my cautious tread Each spot as yet unvisited."

As Ocean to a bubbling spring, The lion to a fox, the king Of all the birds that ply the wing To an ignoble crow As gold to lead of little price, As to the drainings of the rice The drink they quaff in Paradise, The Amrit's heavenly flow, As sandal dust with perfume sweet Is to the mire that soils our feet, A tiger to a cat, As the white swan is to the owl, The peacock to the waterfowl, An eagle to a bat, Such is my lord compared with thee; And when with bow and arrows he, Mighty as Indra's self shall see His foeman, armed to slay, Thou, death-doomed like the fly that sips The oil that on the altar drips, Shalt cast the morsel from thy lips And lose thy half-won prey." Thus in high scorn the lady flung The biting arrows of her tongue In bitter words that pierced and stung The rover of the night. She ceased. Her gentle cheek grew pale, Her loosened limbs began to fail, And like a plantain in the gale She trembled with affright. He terrible as Death stood nigh, And watched with fierce exulting eye The fear that shook her frame. To terrify the lady more, He counted all his triumphs o'er, Proclaimed the titles that he bore, His pedigree and name.