Ramayana on Speech

Quick breathing like a furious snake, With tears and sobs the hero spake, With reddened eyes aglow with rage. And Bharadvaja, mighty sage, Supreme in wisdom, calm and grave, In words like these good counsel gave: "O Bharat, hear the words I say; On her the fault thou must not lay: For many a blessing yet will spring From banished Rama's wandering." And Bharat, with that promise cheered, Went circling round that saint revered, He humbly bade farewell, and then Gave orders to collect his men. Prompt at the summons thousands flew To cars which noble coursers drew, Bright-gleaming, glorious to behold, Adorned with wealth of burnished gold. Then female elephants and male, Gold-girthed, with flags that wooed the gale, Marched with their bright bells' tinkling chime Like clouds when ends the summer time: Some cars were huge and some were light, For heavy draught or rapid flight, Of costly price, of every kind, With clouds of infantry behind. The dames, Kausalya at their head, Were in the noblest chariots led, And every gentle bosom beat With hope the banished prince to meet. The royal Bharat, glory-crowned, With all his retinue around, Borne in a beauteous litter rode, Like the young moon and sun that glowed. The army as it streamed along, Cars, elephants, in endless throng, Showed, marching on its southward way, Like autumn clouds in long array.

As thus they spoke, Sumantra, tried In counsel, to the chiefs replied, Gathered from lands on every side: "To Rama's house I swiftly drave, For so the king his mandate gave. Our aged lord and Rama too In honour high hold all of you: I in your words (be long your days!) Will ask him why he thus delays."

With sobbing voice and bosom wrung I scarce could move my faltering tongue, And with my spirit filled with dread I looked upon the sage, and said, While mind, and sense, and nerve I strung To fortify my trembling tongue, And let the aged hermit know His son's sad fate, my fear and woe: "High-minded Saint, not I thy child, A warrior, Dasaratha styled. I bear a grievous sorrow's weight Born of a deed which good men hate. My lord, I came to Sarju's shore, And in my hand my bow I bore For elephant or beast of chase That seeks by night his drinking place. There from the stream a sound I heard As if a jar the water stirred. An elephant, I thought, was nigh: I aimed, and let an arrow fly. Swift to the place I made my way, And there a wounded hermit lay Gasping for breath: the deadly dart Stood quivering in his youthful heart. I hastened near with pain oppressed; He faltered out his last behest. And quickly, as he bade me do, From his pierced side the shaft I drew. I drew the arrow from the rent, And up to heaven the hermit went, Lamenting, as from earth he passed, His aged parents to the last. Thus, unaware, the deed was done: My hand, unwitting, killed thy son. For what remains, O, let me win Thy pardon for my heedless sin."

The chieftain heard the crow entreat Helpless and prostrate at his feet, And while soft pity moved his breast, With wisest speech the bird addressed: "I took the troubled Sita's part, And furious anger filled my heart. Then on the string my arrow lay Charmed with a spell thy life to slay. Thou seekest now my feet, to crave Forgiveness and thy life to save. So shall thy prayer have due respect: The suppliant I must still protect. But ne'er in vain this dart may flee; Yield for thy life a part of thee, What portion of thy body, say, Shall this mine arrow rend away? Thus far, O bird, thus far alone On thee my pity may be shown. Forfeit a part thy life to buy: 'Tis better so to live than die." Thus Rama spoke: the bird of air Pondered his speech with anxious care, And wisely deemed it good to give One of his eyes that he might live. To Raghu's son he made reply: "O Rama, I will yield an eye. So let me in thy grace confide And live hereafter single-eyed." Then Rama charged the shaft, and lo, Full in the eye it smote the crow. And the Videhan lady gazed Upon the ruined eye amazed. The crow to Rama humbly bent, Then where his fancy led he went. Rama with Lakshman by his side With needful work was occupied.

Such were the words the lady said: With angry fire my eyes were red. With pale lips quivering in my rage I hastened from the hermitage." He ceased; and frenzied by his pain The son of Raghu spoke again: "O brother, for thy fault I grieve, The Maithil dame alone to leave. Thou knowest that my arm is strong To save me from the giant throng, And yet couldst leave the cottage, spurred To folly by her angry word. For this thy deed I praise thee not,-- To leave her helpless in the cot, And thus thy sacred charge forsake For the wild words a woman spake. Yea thou art all to blame herein, And very grievous is thy sin. That anger swayed thy faithless breast And made thee false to my behest. An arrow speeding from my bow Has laid the treacherous giant low, Who lured me eager for the chase Far from my hermit dwelling-place. The string with easy hand I drew, The arrow as in pastime flew, The wounded quarry bled. The borrowed form was cast away, Before mine eye a giant lay With bright gold braceleted. My arrow smote him in the chest: The giant by the pain distressed Raised his loud voice on high. Far rang the mournful sound: mine own, It seemed, were accent, voice, and tone, They made thee leave my spouse alone And to my rescue fly."

"Quick, quick! This Vanar host restrain, For heralds never must be slain. To him alone, a wretch untrue, The punishment of death is due Who leaves his master's speech unsaid And speaks another in its stead." Moved by the suppliant speech and prayer Up sprang the prince and cried, forbear. Saved from his wild assailant's blows Again the Rakshas herald rose And borne on light wings to the sky Addressed Sugriva from on high: "O Vanar Monarch, chief endued With power and wonderous fortitude, What answer is my king, the fear And scourge of weeping worlds, to hear?" "Go tell thy lord," Sugriva cried, "Thou, Rama's foe, art thus defied. His arm the guilty Bali slew; Thus, tyrant, shalt thou perish too. Thy sons, thy friends, proud King, and all Thy kith and kin with thee shall fall; And, emptied of the giant's brood, Burnt Lanka be a solitude. Fly to the Sun-God's pathway, go And hide thee deep in hell below: In vain from Rama shalt thou flee Though heavenly warriors fight for thee. Thine arm subdued, securely bold, The Vulture-king infirm and old: But will thy puny strength avail When Raghu's wrathful sons assail? A captive in thy palace lies The lady of the lotus eyes: Thou knowest not how fierce and strong Is he whom thou hast dared to wrong. The best of Raghu's lineage, he Whose conquering hand shall punish thee."

His mandate Raghu's sons obeyed, And to their sire obeisance made, Where high he stood above the car In wondrous light that shone afar, His limbs in radiant garments dressed Whereon no spot of dust might rest. When on the son he loved so well The eyes of Dasaratha fell, He strained the hero to his breast And thus with gentle words addressed: "No joy to me is heavenly bliss, For there these eyes my Rama miss. Enrolled on high with saint and sage, Thy woes, dear son, my thoughts engage. Kaikeyi's guile I ne'er forget: Her cruel words will haunt me yet, Which sent thee forth, my son, to roam The forest far from me and home. Now when I look on each dear face, And hold you both in fond embrace, My heart is full of joy to see The sons I love from danger free. Now know I what the Gods designed, And how in Rama's form enshrined The might of Purushottam lay, The tyrant of the worlds to slay. Ah, how Kausalya will rejoice To hear again her darling's voice, And, all thy weary wanderings o'er, To gaze upon thy face once more. Ah blest, for ever blest are they Whose eyes shall see the glorious day Of thy return in joy at last, Thy term of toil and exile past. Ayodhya's lord, begin thy reign, And day by day new glory gain."

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

They told their lord that Rama still Lay waiting by Suvela's hill. The tyrant, flushed with angry glow, Heard of the coming of the foe, And thus with close inquiry pressed Sardula spokesman for the rest: "Why art thou sad, night-rover? speak: Has grief or terror changed thy cheek? Have the wild Vanars' hostile bands Assailed thee with their mighty hands?"

Loud as the angry ocean's roar When wild waves lash the rocky shore, Ten thousand thousand throats upsent A shout that tore the firmament, And Lanka with each grove and brook And tower and wall and rampart shook. The giants heard, and were appalled: Then Raghu's son to Angad called, And, led by kingly duty,(950) gave This order merciful as brave: "Go, Angad, Ravan's presence seek, And thus my words of warning speak: "How art thou changed and fallen now, O Monarch of the giants, thou Whose impious fury would not spare Saint, nymph, or spirit of the air; Whose foot in haughty triumph trod On Yaksha, king, and Serpent God: How art thou fallen from thy pride Which Brahma's favour fortified! With myriads at thy Lanka's gate I stand my righteous ire to sate, And punish thee with sword and flame, The tyrant fiend who stole my dame. Now show the might, employ the guile, O Monarch of the giants' isle, Which stole a helpless dame away: Call up thy power and strength to-day. Once more I warn thee, Rakshas King, This hour the Maithil lady bring, And, yielding while there yet is time, Seek, suppliant, pardon for the crime, Or I will leave beneath the sun No living Rakshas, no, not one. In vain from battle wilt thou fly, Or borne on pinions seek the sky; The hand of Rama shall not spare; His fiery shaft shall smite thee there.' "

With bitter words and threatening mien Thus furious spoke the fierce fourteen, And raising scimitar and spear On Rama rushed in wild career. Their levelled spears the giant crew Against the matchless hero threw. His bow the son of Raghu bent, And twice seven shafts to meet them sent, And every javelin sundered fell By the bright darts he aimed so well.

"O timid heart, to counsel thus! What terrors have the Gods for us? Can snake, Gandharva, fiend appal The giants' sons who scorn them all? And shall we now our birth disgrace, And dread a king of human race?" Thus fierce Prahasta counselled ill: But sage Vibhishan's constant will The safety of the realm ensued; Who thus in turn his speech renewed:

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

But Indrajit the fierce and bold With words like these his sire consoled: "Dismiss, O King, thy grief and dread, And be not thus disquieted. Against this numbing sorrow strive, For Indrajit is yet alive; And none in battle may withstand The fury of his strong right hand. This day, O sire, thine eyes shall see The sons of Raghu slain by me."

Vasishtha then, with eager cry, Called, "Fear not, friends, nor seek to fly. This son of Gadhi dies to-day, Like hoar-frost in the morning's ray." Thus having said, the glorious sage Spoke to the king in words of rage: "Because thou hast destroyed this grove Which long in holy quiet throve, By folly urged to senseless crime, Now shalt thou die before thy time."

A thousand years had thus flown by When all the Gods within the sky, Eager that he the fruit might gain Of fervent rite and holy pain, Approached the great ascetic, now Bathed after toil and ended vow. Then Brahma speaking for the rest With sweetest words the sage addressed: "Hail, Saint! This high and holy name Thy rites have won, thy merits claim."

"Yea, for my father's promise sake I to the wood my way will take, And dwell a lonely exile there In hermit dress with matted hair. One thing alone I fain would learn, Why is the king this day so stern? Why is the scourge of foes so cold, Nor gives me greeting as of old? Now let not anger flush thy cheek: Before thy face the truth I speak, In hermit's coat with matted hair To the wild wood will I repair. How can I fail his will to do, Friend, master, grateful sovereign too? One only pang consumes my breast: That his own lips have not expressed His will, nor made his longing known That Bharat should ascend the throne. To Bharat I would yield my wife, My realm and wealth, mine own dear life, Unasked I fain would yield them all: More gladly at my father's call, More gladly when the gift may free His honour and bring joy to thee. Thus, lady, his sad heart release From the sore shame, and give him peace. But tell me, O, I pray thee, why The lord of men, with downcast eye, Lies prostrate thus, and one by one Down his pale cheek the tear-drops run. Let couriers to thy father speed On horses of the swiftest breed, And, by the mandate of the king, Thy Bharat to his presence bring. My father's words I will not stay To question, but this very day To Dandak's pathless wild will fare, For twice seven years an exile there."

But when Kausalyasaw that he Resolved to keep his sire's decree, While tears and sobs her utterance broke, Her very righteous speech she spoke: "Can he, a stranger yet to pain, Whose pleasant words all hearts enchain, Son of the king and me the queen, Live on the grain his hands may glean; Can he, whose slaves and menials eat The finest cakes of sifted wheat-- Can Rama in the forest live On roots and fruit which woodlands give; Who will believe, who will not fear When the sad story smites his ear, That one so dear, so noble held, Is by the king his sire expelled? Now surely none may Fate resist, Which orders all as it may list, If, Rama, in thy strength and grace, The woods become thy dwelling-place. A childless mother long I grieved, And many a sigh for offspring heaved, With wistful longing weak and worn Till thou at last, my son, wast born. Fanned by the storm of that desire Deep in my soul I felt the fire, Whose offerings flowed from weeping eyes, With fuel fed of groans and sighs, While round the flame the smoke grew hot Of tears because thou camest not. Now reft of thee, too fiery fierce The flame of woe my heart will pierce, As, when the days of spring return, The sun's hot beams the forest burn. The mother cow still follows near The wanderings of her youngling dear. So close to thine my feet shall be, Where'er thou goest following thee."

Thus Rama spoke; and Lakshman taught In all the art that utters thought, To King Sugriva's learned spy Thus made his eloquent reply: "Full well we know the gifts that grace Sugriva, lord of Vanar race, And hither turn our wandering feet That we that high-souled king may meet. So now our pleasant task shall be To do the words he speaks by thee."

I mourned, by doubt and fear distressed, And greater horror seized my breast When from the cavern rolled a flood, A carnage stream of froth and blood; And from the depths a sound of fear, The roar of demons, smote mine ear; But never rang my brother's shout Triumphant in the battle rout. I closed the cavern with a block, Huge as a hill, of shattered rock. Gave offerings due to Bali's shade, And sought Kishkindha, sore dismayed. Long time with anxious care I tried From Bali's lords his fate to hide, But they, when once the tale was known, Placed me as king on Bali's throne. There for a while I justly reigned And all with equal care ordained, When joyous from the demon slain My brother Bali came again. He found me ruling in his stead, And, fired with rage, his eyes grew red. He slew the lords who made me king, And spoke keen words to taunt and sting. The kingly rank and power I held My brother's rage with ease had quelled, But still, restrained by old respect For claims of birth, the thought I checked. Thus having struck the demon down Came Bali to his royal town. With meek respect, with humble speech, His haughty heart I strove to reach. But all my arts were tried in vain, No gentle word his lips would deign, Though to the ground I bent and set His feet upon my coronet: Still Bali in his rage and pride All signs of grace and love denied."

Then Gandhamadan thus replied With lips that toil and thirst had dried; "Obey his words, for wise and true Is all that he has counselled you. Come, let your hosts their toil renew And search each grove and desert through, Each towering hill and forest glade. By lake and brook and white cascade, Till every spot, as our great lord Commanded, be again explored."

Pleased with the grateful honours paid, The godlike dame their words obeyed, Clad in a shape of terror she Sprang from the middle of the sea, And, with fierce accents that appalled All creatures, to the Vanar called: "Come, prince of Vanars, doomed to be My food this day by heaven's decree. Such boon from ages long ago To Brahma's favouring will I owe."

Soon as the light of morning broke, Vibhishan from his slumber woke, And, duty guiding every thought, The palace of his brother sought. Vast as a towering hill that shows His peaks afar, that palace rose. Here stood within the monarch's gate Sage nobles skilful in debate. There strayed in glittering raiment through The courts his royal retinue, Where in wild measure rose and fell The music of the drum and shell, And talk grew loud, and many a dame Of fairest feature went and came Through doors a marvel to behold, With pearl inlaid on burning gold: Therein Gandharvas or the fleet Lords of the storm might joy to meet. He passed within the wondrous pile, Chief glory of the giants' isle: Thus, ere his fiery course be done, An autumn cloud admits the sun. He heard auspicious voices raise With loud accord the note of praise, And sages, deep in Scripture, sing Each glorious triumph of the king. He saw the priests in order stand, Curd, oil, in every sacred hand; And by them flowers were laid and grain, Due offerings to the holy train. Vibhishan to the monarch bowed, Raised on a throne above the crowd: Then, skilled in arts of soft address, He raised his voice the king to bless, And sate him on a seat where he Full in his brother's sight should be. The chieftain there, while none could hear, Spoke his true speech for Ravan's ear, And to his words of wisdom lent The force of weightiest argument:

Thus to the gathered lords he spoke; But no reply the silence broke. Then with a sterner voice he cried: "O chiefs, the nation's boast and pride, Whom valour strength and power adorn, Of most illustrious lineage born, Where'er you will you force a way, And none your rapid course can stay. Now come, your several powers declare. And who this desperate leap will dare?"

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

Three nights upon the road they passed To rest the steeds that bore them fast, And reached Ayodhya's town at last. Then straight at Dasaratha's call They stood within the royal hall, Where, like a God, inspiring awe, The venerable king they saw. With suppliant palm to palm applied, And all their terror laid aside, They spoke to him upon the throne With modest words, in gentle tone: "Janak, Videha's king, O Sire, Has sent us hither to inquire The health of thee his friend most dear, Of all thy priests and every peer. Next Kusik's son consenting, thus King Janak speaks, dread liege, by us: "I made a promise and decree That valour's prize my child should be. Kings, worthless found in worth's assay, With mien dejected turned away. Thy sons, by Visvamitra led, Unurged, my city visited, And peerless in their might have gained My daughter, as my vow ordained. Full in a vast assembly's view Thy hero Rama broke in two The gem of bows, of monstrous size, That came a treasure from the skies. Ordained the prize of hero's might, Sita my child is his by right. Fain would I keep my promise made, If thou, O King, approve and aid. Come to my town thy son to see: Bring holy guide and priest with thee. O lord of kings, my suit allow, And let me keep my promised vow. So joying for thy children's sake Their triumph too shalt thou partake, With Visvamitra's high consent." Such words with friendship eloquent Spoke Janak, fair Videha's king, By Satananda's counselling."

Heir of high bliss, my choice is made, Nor can I from my will be stayed. Doubt not; the earth will yield me roots, These will I eat, and woodland fruits; And as with thee I wander there I will not bring thee grief or care. I long, when thou, wise lord, art nigh, All fearless, with delighted eye To gaze upon the rocky hill, The lake, the fountain, and the rill; To sport with thee, my limbs to cool, In some pure lily-covered pool, While the white swan's and mallard's wings Are plashing in the water-springs. So would a thousand seasons flee Like one sweet day, if spent with thee. Without my lord I would not prize A home with Gods above the skies: Without my lord, my life to bless, Where could be heaven or happiness? Forbid me not: with thee I go The tangled wood to tread. There will I live with thee, as though This roof were o'er my head. My will for thine shall be resigned; Thy feet my steps shall guide. Thou, only thou, art in my mind: I heed not all beside. Thy heart shall ne'er by me be grieved; Do not my prayer deny: Take me, dear lord; of thee bereaved Thy Sita swears to die." These words the duteous lady spake, Nor would he yet consent His faithful wife with him to take To share his banishment. He soothed her with his gentle speech; To change her will he strove; And much he said the woes to teach Of those in wilds who rove.

Then, as a tear bedewed her eye, The hapless lady made reply: "I loathe, with heart and soul detest The shameful life your words suggest. Eat, if you will, this mortal frame: My soul rejects the sin and shame. A homeless wanderer though he be, In him my lord, my life I see, And, till my earthly days be done, Will cling to great Ikshvaku's son."

Bedewed with tears was every cheek As thus the Vanars heard him speak. Vibhishan on the field had stayed The Vanar hosts who fled dismayed. Now lifting up his mace on high With martial step the chief drew nigh. The hosts who watched by Rama's side Beheld his shape and giant stride. 'Tis he, 'tis Ravan's son, they thought: And all in flight their safety sought.

Thus Lakshman spake, with earnest prayer His brother's woodland life to share. As Rama still his prayer denied With soothing words, again he cried: "When leave at first thou didst accord, Why dost thou stay me now, my lord? Thou art my refuge: O, be kind, Leave me not, dear my lord, behind. Thou canst not, brother, if thou choose That I still live, my wish refuse."

She heard their speech as, sore afraid, Arrested in their flight, they stayed, And gave her answer as became The spirit of so true a dame: "Nay, what have I to do with pelf, With son, with kingdom, or with self, When he, my noble lord, who leads The Vanars like a lion, bleeds? His high-souled victor will I meet, And throw me prostrate at his feet."

The wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high, Dark clouds of dust involved the sky. In doleful twitter long sustained The restless Sarikas(462) complained, And from the heavens with flash and flame Terrific meteors roaring came. Earth to her deep foundation shook With rock and tree and plain and brook, As Khara with triumphant shout, Borne in his chariot, sallied out. His left arm throbbed: he knew full well That omen, and his visage fell. Each awful sign the giant viewed, And sudden tears his eye bedewed. Care on his brow sat chill and black, Yet mad with wrath he turned not back. Upon each fearful sight that raised The shuddering hair the chieftain gazed, And laughing in his senseless pride Thus to his giant legions cried: "By sense of mightiest strength upborne, These feeble signs I laugh to scorn. I could bring down the stars that shine In heaven with these keen shafts of mine. Impelled by warlike fury I Could cause e'en Death himself to die. I will not seek my home again Until my pointed shafts have slain This Raghu's son so fierce in pride, And Lakshman by his brother's side. And she, my sister, she for whom These sons of Raghu meet their doom, She with delighted lips shall drain The lifeblood of her foemen slain. Fear not for me: I ne'er have known Defeat, in battle overthrown. Fear not for me, O giants; true Are the proud words I speak to you. The king of Gods who rules on high, If wild Airavat bore him nigh, Should fall before me bolt in hand: And shall these two my wrath withstand!"

They came, and found the monarch high Enthroned in gold, his brothers nigh; While many a minister below, And noble, sate in lengthened row. The youthful pair awhile he viewed Graceful in modest attitude, And then in words like these addressed His brother Lakshman and the rest: "Come, listen to the wondrous strain Recited by these godlike twain, Sweet singers of a story fraught With melody and lofty thought."

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

Such were the varied words the crowd Of all conditions spoke aloud. And Rama heard their speeches, yet Changed not his purpose firmly set. His father's palace soon he neared, That like Kailasa's hill appeared. Like a wild elephant he strode Right onward to the bright abode. Within the palace court he stepped, Where ordered bands their station kept, And saw Sumantra standing near With down-cast eye and gloomy cheer.

Vasishtha heard their speech and prayer, And thus addressed the concourse there, Friends, Brahmans, counsellors, and all Assembled in the palace hall: "Ye know that Bharat, free from care, Still lives in Rajagriha(339) where The father of his mother reigns: Satrughna by his side remains. Let active envoys, good at need, Thither on fleetest horses speed, To bring the hero youths away: Why waste the time in dull delay?"

Thus Bharat spoke: each peer and lord Approved his words with one accord, And bade the weary troops repose In separate spots where'er they chose. There by the mighty stream that day, Most glorious in its vast array The prince's wearied army lay In various groups reclined. There Bharat's hours of night were spent, While every eager thought he bent On bringing home from banishment His brother, great of mind.

So from the wood the saints withdrew, And Rama bidding all adieu In lowly reverence bent: Instructed by their friendly speech, Blest with the gracious love of each, To his pure home he went. Nor would the son of Raghu stray A moment from that grove away From which the saints had fled. And many a hermit thither came Attracted by his saintly fame And the pure life he led.

"My arm presaging throbs amain, My troubled heart is sick with pain, And cheerless omens ill portend Where'er my anxious eyes I bend. Dear brother, hear my words: advance Resolved and armed for every chance, For every sign I mark to-day Foretells a peril in the way. This bird of most ill-omened note, Loud screaming with discordant throat, Announces with a warning cry That strife and victory are nigh."

On Sita then he looked and smiled; "List to my words" he said, "dear child, Let not thy gentle breast retain One lingering trace of wrath or pain. When by the fire thy truth be proved, By love for thee his will was moved. The furious flame thy faith confessed Which shrank not from the awful test: And thou, in every heart enshrined, Shalt live the best of womankind."

As to each warder beast he came And questioned all, his words the same, The honoured youth with gentle speech Drew eloquent reply from each, That fortune should his steps attend, And with the horse he home should wend. Cheered with the grateful answer, he Passed on with step more light and free, And reached with careless heart the place Where lay in ashes Sagar's race. Then sank the spirit of the chief Beneath that shock of sudden grief, And with a bitter cry of woe He mourned his kinsmen fallen so. He saw, weighed down by woe and care, The victim charger roaming there. Yet would the pious chieftain fain Oblations offer to the slain: But, needing water for the rite, He looked and there was none in sight His quick eye searching all around The uncle of his kinsmen found, King Garud, best beyond compare Of birds who wing the fields of air. Then thus unto the weeping man The son of Vinata(192) began: "Grieve not, O hero, for their fall Who died a death approved of all. Of mighty strength, they met their fate By Kapil's hand whom none can mate. Pour forth for them no earthly wave, A holier flood their spirits crave. If, daughter of the Lord of Snow, Ganga would turn her stream below, Her waves that cleanse all mortal stain Would wash their ashes pure again. Yea, when her flood whom all revere Rolls o'er the dust that moulders here, The sixty thousand, freed from sin, A home in Indra's heaven shall win. Go, and with ceaseless labour try To draw the Goddess from the sky. Return, and with thee take the steed; So shall thy grandsire's rite succeed."

Then Rama paid the reverence due, Mounted the chariot, and withdrew, And to his splendid dwelling drove While crowds to show him honour strove. The people, when the monarch's speech Their willing ears had heard, Were wild with joy as though on each Great gifts had been conferred. With meek and low salute each man Turned to his home away, And there with happy heart began To all the Gods to pray.

When Bharat viewed his followers there, And Ganga's water, blest and fair, The prince, who lore of words possessed, His councillors and lords addressed: "The captains of the army call: Proclaim this day a halt for all, That so to-morrow, rested, we May cross this flood that seeks the sea. Meanwhile, descending to the shore, The funeral stream I fain would pour From Ganga's fair auspicious tide To him, my father glorified."

But how to bring that wondrous boy His troubled thoughts will long employ, And hopeless to achieve the task He counsel of his lords will ask, And bid his priests and servants bring With honour saintly Rishyasring. But when they hear the monarch's speech, All these their master will beseech, With trembling hearts and looks of woe, To spare them, for they fear to go. And many a plan will they declare And crafty plots will frame, And promise fair to show him there, Unforced, with none to blame. On every word his lords shall say, The king will meditate, And on the third returning day Recall them to debate. Then this shall be the plan agreed, That damsels shall be sent Attired in holy hermits' weed, And skilled in blandishment, That they the hermit may beguile With every art and amorous wile Whose use they know so well, And by their witcheries seduce The unsuspecting young recluse To leave his father's cell. Then when the boy with willing feet Shall wander from his calm retreat And in that city stand, The troubles of the king shall end, And streams of blessed rain descend Upon the thirsty land. Thus shall the holy Rishyasring To Lomapad, the mighty king, By wedlock be allied; For Santa, fairest of the fair, In mind and grace beyond compare, Shall be his royal bride. He, at the Offering of the Steed, The flames with holy oil shall feed, And for King Dasaratha gain Sons whom his prayers have begged in vain." "I have repeated, Sire, thus far, The words of old Sanatkumar, In order as he spoke them then Amid the crowd of holy men." Then Dasaratha cried with joy, "Say how they brought the hermit boy."

While thus the hero mighty-souled, In wild lament his sorrow told, Faint with the load that on him lay, The hours of darkness passed away. As thus the prince, impelled by zeal For his loved brother, prompt to feel Strong yearnings for the people's weal, His words of truth outspake, King Guha grieved to see his woe, Heart-stricken, gave his tears to flow, Tormented by the common blow, Sad, as a wounded snake.

Soon as he heard the high behest The driver of the chariot pressed Within the chambers of the king, His lord with praises honouring. And none of all the warders checked His entrance for their great respect Of him well known, in place so high, Still fain their king to gratify. He stood beside the royal chief, Unwitting of his deadly grief, And with sweet words began to sing The praises of his lord and king: "As, when the sun begins to rise, The sparkling sea delights our eyes, Wake, calm with gentle soul, and thus Give rapture, mighty King, to us. As Matali(279) this selfsame hour Sang lauds of old to Indra's power, When he the Titan hosts o'erthrew, So hymn I thee with praises due. The Vedas, with their kindred lore, Brahma their soul-born Lord adore, With all the doctrines of the wise, And bid him, as I bid thee, rise. As, with the moon, the Lord of Day Wakes with the splendour of his ray Prolific Earth, who neath him lies, So, mighty King, I bid thee rise. With blissful words, O Lord of men, Rise, radiant in thy form, as when The sun ascending darts his light From Meru's everlasting height. May Siva, Agni, Sun, and Moon Bestow on thee each choicest boon, Kuvera, Varuna, Indra bless Kakutstha's son with all success. Awake, the holy night is fled, The happy light abroad is spread; Awake, O best of kings, and share The glorious task that claims thy care. The holy sage Vasishtha waits, With all his Brahmans, at the gate. Give thy decree, without delay, To consecrate thy son today. As armies, by no captain led, As flocks that feed unshepherded, Such is the fortune of a state Without a king and desolate."

Great monarchs from their presence send Their lawful sons who still offend, And welcome to the vacant place Good children of an alien race. Then, best of women, rest thou here, And Bharat's will with love revere. Obedient to thy king remain, And still thy vows of truth maintain. To the wide wood my steps I bend: Make thou thy dwelling here; See that thy conduct ne'er offend, And keep my words, my dear."

But haughty Kumbhakarna spurned His counsel, and to Ravan turned: "Thy life from peril will I free And slay the foe who threatens thee. A hero never vaunts in vain, Like bellowing clouds devoid of rain, Nor, Monarch, be thine ear inclined To counsellors of slavish kind, Who with mean arts their king mislead And mar each gallant plan and deed. O, let not words like his beguile The glorious king of Lanka's isle."

Joy reigned in heaven where every eye Had seen the Lord of Lanka die. In cars whose sheen surpassed the sun's Triumphant rode the radiant ones: And Ravan's death, by every tongue, And Rama's glorious deeds were sung. They praised the Vanars true and brave, The counsel wise Sugriva gave. The deeds of Hanuman they told, The valiant chief supremely bold, The strong ally, the faithful friend, And Sita's truth which naught could bend.

Then with Sugriva for his guide, Came Rama to the ocean side. He smote the sea with shafts as bright As sunbeams in their summer height, And quick appeared the Rivers' King(38) Obedient to the summoning. A bridge was thrown by Nala o'er The narrow sea from shore to shore.(39) They crossed to Lanka's golden town, Where Rama's hand smote Ravan down. Vibhishan there was left to reign Over his brother's wide domain. To meet her husband Sita came; But Rama, stung with ire and shame, With bitter words his wife addressed Before the crowd that round her pressed. But Sita, touched with noble ire, Gave her fair body to the fire. Then straight the God of Wind appeared, And words from heaven her honour cleared. And Rama clasped his wife again, Uninjured, pure from spot and stain, Obedient to the Lord of Fire And the high mandate of his sire. Led by the Lord who rules the sky, The Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh, And honoured him with worthy meed, Rejoicing in each glorious deed. His task achieved, his foe removed, He triumphed, by the Gods approved. By grace of Heaven he raised to life The chieftains slain in mortal strife; Then in the magic chariot through The clouds to Nandigrama flew. Met by his faithful brothers there, He loosed his votive coil of hair: Thence fair Ayodhya's town he gained, And o'er his father's kingdom reigned. Disease or famine ne'er oppressed His happy people, richly blest With all the joys of ample wealth, Of sweet content and perfect health. No widow mourned her well-loved mate, No sire his son's untimely fate. They feared not storm or robber's hand; No fire or flood laid waste the land: The Golden Age(40) had come again To bless the days of Rama's reign.

Thus having said, the sage addressed His sons, of men the holiest, And bade the prudent saints whate'er Was needed for the rite prepare. The pupils he was wont to teach He summoned next, and spoke this speech: "Go bid Vasishtha'a sons appear, And all the saints be gathered here. And what they one and all reply When summoned by this mandate high, To me with faithful care report, Omit no word and none distort."

Lord Indra ceased. The nymph obeyed: In all her loveliest charms arrayed, With winning ways and witching smile She sought the hermit to beguile. The sweet note of that tuneful bird The saint with ravished bosom heard, And on his heart a rapture passed As on the nymph a look he cast. But when he heard the bird prolong His sweet incomparable song, And saw the nymph with winning smile, The hermit's heart perceived the wile. And straight he knew the Thousand-eyed A plot against his peace had tried. Then Kusik's son indignant laid His curse upon the heavenly maid: "Because thou wouldst my soul engage Who fight to conquer love and rage, Stand, till ten thousand years have flown, Ill-fated maid, transformed to stone. A Brahman then, in glory strong, Mighty through penance stern and long, Shall free thee from thine altered shape; Thou from my curse shalt then escape." But when the saint had cursed her so, His breast was burnt with fires of woe, Grieved that long effort to restrain His mighty wrath was all in vain. Cursed by the angry sage's power, She stood in stone that selfsame hour. Kandarpa heard the words he said, And quickly from his presence fled. His fall beneath his passion's sway Had reft the hermit's meed away. Unconquered yet his secret foes, The humbled saint refused repose: "No more shall rage my bosom till, Sealed be my lips, my tongue be still. My very breath henceforth I hold Until a thousand years are told: Victorious o'er each erring sense, I'll dry my frame with abstinence, Until by penance duly done A Brahman's rank be bought and won. For countless years, as still as death, I taste no food, I draw no breath, And as I toil my frame shall stand Unharmed by time's destroying hand."

Thus by the royal envoys pressed, Bharat again the band addressed: "I go with you: no long delay, A single hour I bid you stay." Thus Bharat, son of him who swayed Ayodhyas realm, his answer made, And then bespoke, his heart to please, His mother's sire in words like these: "I go to see my father, King, Urged by the envoys' summoning; And when thy soul desires to see Thy grandson, will return to thee."

Thus by the holy dame addressed Who banished envy from her breast, Her lowly reverence Sita paid, And softly thus her answer made: "No marvel, best of dames, thy speech The duties of a wife should teach; Yet I, O lady, also know Due reverence to my lord to show. Were he the meanest of the base, Unhonoured with a single grace, My husband still I ne'er would leave, But firm through all to him would cleave: Still rather to a lord like mine Whose virtues high-exalted shine, Compassionate, of lofty soul, With every sense in due control, True in his love, of righteous mind, Like a dear sire and mother kind. E'en as he ever loves to treat Kausalya with observance meet, Has his behaviour ever been To every other honoured queen. Nay, more, a sonlike reverence shows The noble Rama e'en to those On whom the king his father set His eyes one moment, to forget. Deep in my heart the words are stored, Said by the mother of my lord, When from my home I turned away In the lone fearful woods to stray. The counsel of my mother deep Impressed upon my soul I keep, When by the fire I took my stand, And Rama clasped in his my hand. And in my bosom cherished yet, My friends' advice I ne'er forget: Woman her holiest offering pays When she her husband's will obeys. Good Savitri her lord obeyed, And a high saint in heaven was made, And for the self-same virtue thou Hast heaven in thy possession now. And she with whom no dame could vie, Now a bright Goddess in the sky, Sweet Rohini the Moon's dear Queen, Without her lord is never seen: And many a faithful wife beside For her pure love is glorified."

Then Rama, having slain in fight Viradha of terrific might, With gentle words his spouse consoled, And clasped her in his loving hold. Then to his brother nobly brave The valiant prince his counsel gave: "Wild are these woods around us spread; And hard and rough the ground to tread: We, O my brother, ne'er have viewed So dark and drear a solitude: To Sarabhanga let us haste, Whom wealth of holy works has graced."

To that bright sage, of penance stern, The high-souled Rama spake in turn, As Vasava(422) who rules the skies To Brahma's gracious speech replies: "I of myself those worlds will win, O mighty hermit pure from sin: But now, O saint, I pray thee tell Where I within this wood may dwell: For I by Sarabhanga old, The son of Gautama, was told That thou in every lore art wise, And seest all with loving eyes."

The hermit's speech when Rama heard,-- The hero ne'er by terror stirred,-- On his great bow his hand he laid, And thus in turn his answer made: "O saint, my darts of keenest steel, Armed with their murderous barbs, would deal Destruction mid the silvan race That flocks around thy dwelling-place. Most wretched then my fate would be For such dishonour shown to thee: And only for the briefest stay Would I within this grove delay."

"A hundred years shall flee, and still Will I obey my brother's will: Select thyself a pleasant spot; Be mine the care to rear the cot." The glorious chieftain, pleased to hear That loving speech that soothed his ear, Selected with observant care A spot with every charm most fair. He stood within that calm retreat, A shade for hermits' home most meet, And thus Sumitra's son addressed, While his dear hand in his he pressed:

The child of Janak heard him speak, And the hot tear-drops down her cheek, Increasing to a torrent, ran, As thus once more the dame began: "O Lakshman, if I widowed be Godavari's flood shall cover me, Or I will die by cord, or leap, Life weary, from yon rocky steep; Or deadly poison will I drink, Or 'neath the kindled flames will sink, But never, reft of Rama, can Consent to touch a meaner man."

To him enthralled by love, and blind, Pierced by his darts who shakes the mind,(274) Kaikeyi with remorseless breast Her grand purpose thus expressed: "O King, no insult or neglect Have I endured, or disrespect. One wish I have, and faith would see That longing granted, lord, by thee. Now pledge thy word if thou incline To listen to this prayer of mine, Then I with confidence will speak, And thou shalt hear the boon I seek."