Ramayana on Strength

Now with two arms I thee invest Of never-ending Sleep and Rest, With weapons of the Sun and Rain, And those that dry and burn amain; And strong Desire with conquering touch, The dart that Kama prizes much. I give the arm of shadowy powers That bleeding flesh of men devours. I give the arms the God of Gold And giant fiends exult to hold. This smites the foe in battle-strife, And takes his fortune, strength, and life. I give the arms called False and True, And great Illusion give I too; The hero's arm called Strong and Bright That spoils the foeman's strength in fight. I give thee as a priceless boon The Dew, the weapon of the Moon, And add the weapon, deftly planned, That strengthens Visvakarma's hand. The Mortal dart whose point is chill, And Slaughter, ever sure to kill; All these and other arms, for thou Art very dear, I give thee now. Receive these weapons from my hand, Son of the noblest in the land."

"Arise, my sister; cast away This numbing terror and dismay, And straight the impious hand declare That marred those features once so fair. For who his finger tip will lay On the black snake in childish play, And unattacked, with idle stroke His poison-laden fang provoke? Ill-fated fool, he little knows Death's noose around his neck he throws, Who rashly met thee, and a draught Of life-destroying poison quaffed. Strong, fierce as death, 'twas thine to choose Thy way at will, each shape to use; In power and might like one of us: What hand has maimed and marred thee thus? What God or fiend this deed has wrought, What bard or sage of lofty thought Was armed with power supremely great Thy form to mar and mutilate? In all the worlds not one I see Would dare a deed to anger me: Not Indra's self, the Thousand-eyed, Beneath whose hand fierce Paka(459) died. My life-destroying darts this day His guilty breath shall rend away, E'en as the thirsty wild swan drains Each milk-drop that the wave retains. Whose blood in foaming streams shall burst O'er the dry ground which lies athirst, When by my shafts transfixed and slain He falls upon the battle plain? From whose dead corpse shall birds of air The mangled flesh and sinews tear, And in their gory feast delight, When I have slain him in the fight? Not God or bard or wandering ghost, No giant of our mighty host Shall step between us, or avail To save the wretch when I assail. Collect each scattered sense, recall Thy troubled thoughts, and tell me all. What wretch attacked thee in the way, And quelled thee in victorious fray?"

Thus spoke the prince of boundless might, And thus replied the anchorite: "Chief of the mighty arm, of yore Lord Vishnu whom the Gods adore, For holy thought and rites austere Of penance made his dwelling here. This ancient wood was called of old Grove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled, And when perfection he attained The grove the name of Perfect gained. Bali of yore, Virochan's son, Dominion over Indra won, And when with power his proud heart swelled, O'er the three worlds his empire held. When Bali then began a rite, The Gods and Indra in affright Sought Vishnu in this place of rest, And thus with prayers the God addressed: "Bali. Virochan's mighty son, His sacrifice has now begun: Of boundless wealth, that demon king Is bounteous to each living thing. Though suppliants flock from every side The suit of none is e'er denied. Whate'er, where'er howe'er the call, He hears the suit and gives to all. Now with thine own illusive art Perform, O Lord, the helper's part: Assume a dwarfish form, and thus From fear and danger rescue us."(167)

With suppliant palm to palm applied King Janak to the strangers cried: "This gem of bows, O Brahman Sage, Our race has prized from age to age, Too strong for those who yet have reigned, Though great in might each nerve they strained. Titan and fiend its strength defies, God, spirit, minstrel of the skies. And bard above and snake below Are baffled by this glorious bow. Then how may human prowess hope With such a bow as this to cope? What man with valour's choicest gift This bow can draw, or string, or lift? Yet let the princes, holy Seer, Behold it: it is present here."

Hanuman heard his strong bow clang, And swiftly from the earth he sprang, While weak and ineffective fell The archer's shafts though pointed well. The Rakshas saw that naught might kill The wondrous foe who mocked his skill, And launched a magic shaft to throw A binding spell about his foe. Forth flew the shaft: the mystic charm Stayed his swift feet and numbed his arm, Through all his frame he felt the spell, And motionless to earth he fell. Nor would the reverent Vanar loose The bonds that bound him as a noose. He knew that Brahma's self had charmed The weapon that his might disarmed.

Thus Rama spake, the mighty souled; And thus his tale Sugriva told:

With practised eye the king reviewed The Vanars' countless multitude, And, joying that his hest was done, Thus spake to Raghu's mighty son: "See, all the Vanar hosts who fear My sovereign might are gathered here. Chiefs strong as Indra's self, who speed Wher'er they list, these armies lead. Fierce and terrific to the view As Daityas or the Danav(659) crew, Famed in all lands for souls afire With lofty thoughts, they never tire, O'er hill and vale they wander free, And islets of the distant sea. And these gathered myriads, all Will serve thee, Rama, at thy call. Whate'er thy heart advises, say: Thy mandates will the host obey."

"Expelled from power the woods I tread, My spouse is lost, the bird is dead. A fate so sad, I ween, would tame The vigour of the glorious flame. If I to cool my fever tried To cross the deep from side to side, The sea,--so hard my fate,--would dry His waters as my feet came nigh. In all this world there lives not one So cursed as I beneath the sun; So strong a net of misery cast Around me holds the captive fast, Best of all birds that play the wing, Loved, honoured by our sire the king, The vulture, in my fate enwound, Lies bleeding, dying on the ground."

Thus Ravan spake, the giant king, And loosed the arrow from the string. It pierced, with direst fury sped, The Vanar with its flaming head. His father's might, his power innate Preserved him from the threatened fate. Upon his knees he fell, distained With streams of blood, but life remained.

Thus as he spake, with one accord, To win the grace of that high lord, The queens, with palms together laid, In humble supplication prayed: "Which queen, O Brahman, of the pair, The many, or the one shall bear? Most eager, Lord, are we to know, And as thou sayest be it so." With his sweet speech the saint replied: "Yourselves, O Queens, the choice decide. Your own discretion freely use Which shall the one or many choose: One shall the race and name uphold, The host be famous, strong, and bold. Which will have which?" Then Kesini The mother of one heir would be. Sumati, sister of the king(181) Of all the birds that ply the wing, To that illustrious Brahman sued That she might bear the multitude Whose fame throughout the world should sound For mighty enterprise renowned. Around the saint the monarch went, Bowing his head, most reverent. Then with his wives, with willing feet, Resought his own imperial seat. Time passed. The elder consort bare A son called Asamanj, the heir. Then Sumati, the younger, gave Birth to a gourd,(182) O hero brave, Whose rind, when burst and cleft in two, Gave sixty thousand babes to view. All these with care the nurses laid In jars of oil; and there they stayed, Till, youthful age and strength complete, Forth speeding from each dark retreat, All peers in valour, years, and might, The sixty thousand came to light. Prince Asamanj, brought up with care, Scourge of his foes, was made the heir. But liegemen's boys he used to cast To Sarju's waves that hurried past, Laughing the while in cruel glee Their dying agonies to see. This wicked prince who aye withstood The counsel of the wise and good, Who plagued the people in his hate, His father banished from the state. His son, kind-spoken, brave, and tall, Was Ansuman, beloved of all.

"Needs not to you who know declare How ever with paternal care My fathers of Ikshvaku's line Have ruled the realm which now is mine. I too have taught my feet to tread The pathway of the mighty dead, And with fond care that never slept Have, as I could, my people kept. So toiling still, and ne'er remiss For all my people's weal and bliss, Beneath the white umbrella's(260) shade. Old age is come and strength decayed. Thousands of years have o'er me flown, And generations round me grown And passed away. I crave at length Repose and ease for broken strength. Feeble and worn I scarce can bear The ruler's toil, the judge's care, With royal dignity, a weight That tries the young and temperate. I long to rest, my labour done, And in my place to set my son, If to the twice-born gathered here My counsel wise and good appear. For greater gifts than mine adorn Rama my son, my eldest-born. Like Indra brave, before him fall The foeman's cities, tower and wall. Him prince of men for power and might, The best maintainer of the right, Fair as the moon when nothing bars His glory close to Pushya's stars, Him with to-morrow's light I fain Would throne the consort of my reign. A worthy lord for you, I ween, Marked as her own by Fortune's Queen. The triple world itself would be Well ruled by such a king as he. To such high bliss and happy fate Will I the country dedicate, And my sad heart will cease to grieve If he the precious charge receive. Thus is my careful plan matured, Thus for myself is rest secured; Lieges, approve the words I say, Or point ye out some wiser way. Devise your prudent plan. My mind Is fondly to this thought inclined, But men by keen debating move Some middle course which all approve."

The chieftain turned his glances where The legions sat in mute despair; And then to Hanuman, the best Of Vanar lords, these words addressed: "Why still, and silent, and apart, O hero of the dauntless heart? Thou keepest treasured in thy mind The laws that rule the Vanar kind, Strong as our king Sugriva, brave As Rama's self to slay or save. Through every land thy praise is heard, Famous as that illustrious bird, Arishtanemi's son,(781) the king Of every fowl that plies the wing. Oft have I seen the monarch sweep With sounding pinions o'er the deep, And in his mighty talons bear Huge serpents struggling through the air. Thy arms, O hero, match in might The ample wings he spreads for flight; And thou with him mayest well compare In power to do, in heart to dare. Why, rich in wisdom, power, and skill, O hero, art thou lingering still? An Apsaras(782) the fairest found Of nymphs for heavenly charms renowned, Sweet Punjikasthala, became A noble Vanar's wedded dame. Her heavenly title heard no more, Anjana was the name she bore, When, cursed by Gods, from heaven she fell In Vanar form on earth to dwell, New-born in mortal shape the child Of Kunjar monarch of the wild. In youthful beauty wondrous fair, A crown of flowers about her hair, In silken robes of richest dye She roamed the hills that kiss the sky. Once in her tinted garments dressed She stood upon the mountain crest, The God of Wind beside her came, And breathed upon the lovely dame. And as he fanned her robe aside The wondrous beauty that he eyed In rounded lines of breast and limb And neck and shoulder ravished him; And captured by her peerless charms He strained her in his amorous arms. Then to the eager God she cried In trembling accents, terrified: "Whose impious love has wronged a spouse So constant in her nuptial vows?"

When Gadhi's son of high renown Still saw the stony rain pour down Upon each princely warrior's head, With words of wisdom thus he said: "Enough of mercy, Rama, lest This sinful evil-working pest, Disturber of each holy rite, Repair by magic arts her might. Without delay the fiend should die, For, see, the twilight hour is nigh. And at the joints of night and day Such giant foes are hard to slay." Then Rama, skilful to direct His arrow to the sound, With shafts the mighty demon checked Who rained her stones around. She sore impeded and beset By Rama and his arrowy net, Though skilled in guile and magic lore, Rushed on the brothers with a roar. Deformed, terrific, murderous, dread, Swift as the levin on she sped, Like cloudy pile in autumn's sky, Lifting her two vast arms on high, When Rama smote her with a dart, Shaped like a crescent, to the heart. Sore wounded by the shaft that came With lightning speed and surest aim, Blood spouting from her mouth and side, She fell upon the earth and died. Soon as the Lord who rules the sky Saw the dread monster lifeless lie, He called aloud, Well done! well done! And the Gods honoured Raghu's son. Standing in heaven the Thousand-eyed, With all the Immortals, joying cried: "Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and see The Gods and Indra nigh to thee. This deed of Rama's boundless might Has filled our bosoms with delight, Now, for our will would have it so, To Raghu's son some favour show. Invest him with the power which naught But penance gains and holy thought, Those heavenly arms on him bestow To thee entrusted long ago By great Krisasva best of kings, Son of the Lord of living things. More fit recipient none can be Than he who joys it following thee; And for our sakes the monarch's seed Has yet to do a mighty deed."

He ceased: and Angad raised a cry; "This is no herald but a spy. Above thee from his airy post His rapid eye surveyed our host, Where with advantage he might scan Our gathered strength from rear to van. Bind him, Vanars, bind the spy, Nor let him back to Lanka fly."

"Lord of the mighty arm, of yore A shape transcending thought I wore, And through the triple world's extent My fame for might and valour went. Scarce might the sun and moon on high, Scarce Sakra, with my beauty vie. Then for a time this form I took, And the great world with trembling shook. The saints in forest shades who dwelt The terror of my presence felt. But once I stirred to furious rage Great Sthulasiras, glorious sage. Culling in woods his hermit food My hideous shape with fear he viewed. Then forth his words of anger burst That bade me live a thing accursed: "Thou, whose delight is others' pain, This grisly form shalt still retain."

He ceased, the royal Vanar heard, And swift, obedient to his word, Sprang forth in numbers none might tell From mountain, cave, and bosky dell, From rocky ledge and breezy height, Fierce Vanars burning for the fight. And Rama's course was southward bent Amid the mighty armament. On, joyous, pressed in close array The hosts who owned Sugriva's sway, With nimble feet, with rapid bound Exploring, ere they passed, the ground, While from ten myriad throats rang out The challenge and the battle shout. On roots and honeycomb they fed, And clusters from the boughs o'erhead, Or from the ground the tall trees tore Rich with the flowery load they bore. Some carried comrades, wild with mirth, Then cast their riders to the earth, Who swiftly to their feet arose And overthrew their laughing foes. While still rang out the general cry, "King Ravan and his fiends shall die," Still on, exulting in the pride Of conscious strength, the Vanars hied, And gazed where noble Sahya, best Of mountains, raised each towering crest. They looked on lake and streamlet, where The lotus bloom was bright and fair, Nor marched--for Rama's hest they feared Where town or haunt of men appeared. Still onward, fearful as the waves Of Ocean when he roars and raves, Led by their eager chieftains, went The Vanars' countless armament. Each captain, like a noble steed Urged by the lash to double speed. Pressed onward, filled with zeal and pride, By Rama's and his brother's side, Who high above the Vanar throng On mighty backs were borne along, Like the great Lords of Day and Night Seized by eclipsing planets might. Then Lakshman radiant as the morn, On Angad's shoulders high upborne. With sweet consoling words that woke New ardour, to his brother spoke: "Soon shalt thou turn, thy queen regained And impious Ravan's life-blood drained, In happiness and high renown To dear Ayodhya's happy town. I see around exceeding fair All omens of the earth and air.

He ceased: the tyrant's eyeballs blazed With fury as his voice he raised: "No, if the dwellers of the sky, Gandharvas, fiends assail me, I Will keep the Maithil lady still, Nor yield her back for fear of ill. When shall my shafts with iron hail My foeman, Raghu's son, assail, Thick as the bees with eager wing Beat on the flowery trees of spring? O, let me meet my foe at length, And strip him of his vaunted strength, Fierce as the sun who shines afar Stealing the light of every star. Strong as the sea's impetuous might My ways are like the tempest's flight; But Rama knows not this, or he In terror from my face would flee."

But Visvamitra, at the threat Of that illustrious anchoret, Cried, as he launched with ready hand A fiery weapon, "Stand, O Stand!" Vasishtha, wild with rage and hate, Raising, as 'twere the Rod of Fate, His mighty Brahman wand on high, To Visvamitra made reply: "Nay, stand, O Warrior thou, and show What soldier can, 'gainst Brahman foe. O Gadhi's son, thy days are told; Thy pride is tamed, thy dart is cold. How shall a warrior's puissance dare With Brahman's awful strength compare? To-day, base Warrior, shall thou feel That God-sent might is more than steel." He raised his Brahman staff, nor missed The fiery dart that near him hissed: And quenched the fearful weapon fell, As flame beneath the billow's swell.

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

Nor would Sumitra's valiant son(982) The might of Kumbhakarna shun, Who through his harness felt the sting Of keen shafts loosened from the string. His heart confessed the warrior's power, And, bleeding from the ceaseless shower That smote him on the chest and side, With words like these the giant cried: "Well fought, well fought, Sumitra's son; Eternal glory hast thou won, For thou in desperate fight hast met The victor never conquered yet, Whom, borne on huge Airavat's back, E'en Indra trembles to attack. Go, son of Queen Sumitra, go: Thy valour and thy strength I know. Now all my hope and earnest will Is Rama in the fight to kill. Let him beneath my weapons fall, And I will meet and conquer all."

"I will declare, do thou attend, How Bharat may his throne ascend. Dost thou forget what things befell? Or dost thou feign, remembering well? Or wouldst thou hear my tongue repeat A story for thy need so meet? Gay lady, if thy will be so, Now hear the tale of long ago, And when my tongue has done its part Ponder the story in thine heart. When Gods and demons fought of old, Thy lord, with royal saints enrolled, Sped to the war with thee to bring His might to aid the Immortals' King. Far to the southern land he sped Where Dandak's mighty wilds are spread, To Vaijayanta's city swayed By Sambara, whose flag displayd The hugest monster of the sea. Lord of a hundred wiles was be; With might which Gods could never blame Against the King of Heaven he came. Then raged the battle wild and dread, And mortal warriors fought and bled; The fiends by night with strength renewed Charged, slew the sleeping multitude. Thy lord, King Dasaratha, long Stood fighting with the demon throng, But long of arm, unmatched in strength, Fell wounded by their darts at length. Thy husband, senseless, by thine aid Was from the battle field conveyed, And wounded nigh to death thy lord Was by thy care to health restored. Well pleased the grateful monarch sware To grant thy first and second prayer. Thou for no favour then wouldst sue, The gifts reserved for season due; And he, thy high-souled lord, agreed To give the boons when thou shouldst need. Myself I knew not what befell, But oft the tale have heard thee tell, And close to thee in friendship knit Deep in my heart have treasured it. Remind thy husband of his oath, Recall the boons and claim them both, That Bharat on the throne be placed With rites of consecration graced, And Rama to the woods be sent For twice seven years of banishment. Go, Queen, the mourner's chamber(270) seek, With angry eye and burning cheek; And with disordered robes and hair On the cold earth lie prostrate there.

As when beneath the driver's steel An elephant is forced to kneel, So from the hard and pointed head Of many an arrow Rama bled. High on his car the giant rose Prepared in deadly strife to close, And all the spirits saw him stand Like Yama with his noose in hand. For Khara deemed in senseless pride That he, beneath whose hand had died The giant legions, failed at length Slow sinking with exhausted strength. But Rama, like a lion, when A trembling deer comes nigh his den, Feared not the demon mad with hate,-- Of lion might and lion gait. Then in his lofty car that glowed With sunlike brilliance Khara rode At Rama: madly on he came Like a poor moth that seeks the flame. His archer skill the fiend displayed, And at the place where Rama laid His hand, an arrow cleft in two The mighty bow the hero drew. Seven arrows by the giant sent, Bright as the bolts of Indra, rent Their way through mail and harness joints, And pierced him with their iron points. On Rama, hero unsurpassed, A thousand shafts smote thick and fast, While as each missile struck, rang out The giant's awful battle-shout. His knotted arrows pierced and tore The sunbright mail the hero wore, Till, band and buckle rent away, Glittering on the ground it lay. Then pierced in shoulder, breast, and side, Till every limb with blood was dyed, The chieftain in majestic ire Shone glorious as the smokeless fire. Then loud and long the war-cry rose Of Rama, terror of his foes, As, on the giant's death intent, A ponderous bow he strung and bent,-- Lord Vishnu's own, of wondrous size,-- Agastya gave the heavenly prize. Then rushing on the demon foe, He raised on high that mighty bow, And with his well-wrought shafts, whereon Bright gold between the feathers shone, He struck the pennon fluttering o'er The chariot, and it waved no more. That glorious flag whose every fold Was rich with blazonry and gold, Fell as the sun himself by all The Gods' decree might earthward fall.

All earth I brought beneath my sway, And gave it for his meed and pay To holy Kasyap, when of yore The rites performed by him were o'er. Then to Mahendra's hill I turned Strong in the strength that penance earned, And toiled upon his lofty head By Gods immortal visited. The breaking of the bow I knew From startled Gods conversing, through The airy regions, of thy deed, And hither came with swiftest speed. Now, for thy Warrior's honour sake, This best of bows, O Rama, take: This, owned by Vishnu's self of old, My sire and grandsire loved to hold. Drawn to its head upon the string, One town-destroying arrow bring; If this thou can, O hero, I In single fight thy strength will try."

But when he heard the queen relate His brothers' doom, his father's fate, Thus Bharat to his mother said With burning grief disquieted: "Alas, what boots it now to reign, Struck down by grief and well-nigh slain? Ah, both are gone, my sire, and he Who was a second sire to me. Grief upon grief thy hand has made, And salt upon gashes laid: For my dear sire has died through thee, And Rama roams a devotee. Thou camest like the night of Fate This royal house to devastate. Unwitting ill, my hapless sire Placed in his bosom coals of fire, And through thy crimes his death he met, O thou whose heart on sin is set. Shame of thy house! thy senseless deed Has reft all joy from Raghu's seed. The truthful monarch, dear to fame, Received thee as his wedded dame, And by thy act to misery doomed Has died by flames of grief consumed. Kausalya and Sumitra too The coming of my mother rue, And if they live oppressed by woe, For their dear sons their sad tears flow. Was he not ever good and kind,-- That hero of the duteous mind? Skilled in all filial duties, he As a dear mother treated thee. Kausalya too, the eldest queen, Who far foresees with insight keen, Did she not ever show thee all A sister's love at duty's call? And hast thou from the kingdom chased Her son, with bark around his waist, To the wild wood, to dwell therein, And dost not sorrow for thy sin? The love I bare to Raghu's son Thou knewest not, ambitious one, If thou hast wrought this impious deed For royal sway, in lawless greed. With him and Lakshman far away, What power have I the realm to sway? What hope will fire my bosom when I see no more these lords of men? The holy king, who loved the right Relied on Rama's power and might, His guardian and his glory, so Joys Meru in his woods below. How can I bear, a steer untrained, The load his mightier strength sustained? What power have I to brook alone This weight on feeble shoulders thrown?

Soon as the Maithil lady knew That high through air the giant flew, Distressed with grief and sore afraid Her troubled spirit sank dismayed. Then, as anew the waters welled From those red eyes which sorrow swelled, Forth in keen words her passion broke, And to the fierce-eyed fiend she spoke: "Canst thou attempt a deed so base, Untroubled by the deep disgrace,-- To steal me from my home and fly, When friend or guardian none was nigh? Thy craven soul that longed to steal, Fearing the blows that warriors deal, Upon a magic deer relied To lure my husband from my side, Friend of his sire, the vulture king Lies low on earth with mangled wing, Who gave his aged life for me And died for her he sought to free. Ah, glorious strength indeed is thine, Thou meanest of thy giant line, Whose courage dared to tell thy name And conquer in the fight a dame. Does the vile deed that thou hast done Cause thee no shame, thou wicked one-- A woman from her home to rend When none was near his aid to lend? Through all the worlds, O giant King, The tidings of this deed will ring, This deed in law and honour's spite By one who claims a hero's might. Shame on thy boasted valour, shame! Thy prowess is an empty name. Shame, giant, on this cursed deed For which thy race is doomed to bleed! Thou fliest swifter than the gale, For what can strength like thine avail? Stay for one hour, O Ravan, stay; Thou shalt not flee with life away. Soon as the royal chieftains' sight Falls on the thief who roams by night, Thou wilt not, tyrant, live one hour Though backed by all thy legions' power. Ne'er can thy puny strength sustain The tempest of their arrowy rain: Have e'er the trembling birds withstood The wild flames raging in the wood? Hear me, O Ravan, let me go, And save thy soul from coming woe. Or if thou wilt not set me free, Wroth for this insult done to me. With his brave brother's aid my lord Against thy life will raise his sword.

When Ravan, dreaded warrior, knew The slaughter of his giant crew: Ravan, the king, whose name of fear Earth, hell, and heaven all shook to hear: He bade the fiend Maricha aid The vengeful plot his fury laid. In vain the wise Maricha tried To turn him from his course aside: Not Ravan's self, he said, might hope With Rama and his strength to cope. Impelled by fate and blind with rage He came to Rama's hermitage. There, by Maricha's magic art, He wiled the princely youths apart, The vulture(31) slew, and bore away The wife of Rama as his prey. The son of Raghu(32) came and found Jatayu slain upon the ground. He rushed within his leafy cot; He sought his wife, but found her not. Then, then the hero's senses failed; In mad despair he wept and wailed. Upon the pile that bird he laid, And still in quest of Sita strayed. A hideous giant then he saw, Kabandha named, a shape of awe. The monstrous fiend he smote and slew, And in the flame the body threw; When straight from out the funeral flame In lovely form Kabandha came, And bade him seek in his distress A wise and holy hermitess. By counsel of this saintly dame To Pampa's pleasant flood he came, And there the steadfast friendship won Of Hanuman the Wind-God's son. Counselled by him he told his grief To great Sugriva, Vanar chief, Who, knowing all the tale, before The sacred flame alliance swore. Sugriva to his new-found friend Told his own story to the end: His hate of Bali for the wrong And insult he had borne so long. And Rama lent a willing ear And promised to allay his fear. Sugriva warned him of the might Of Bali, matchless in the fight, And, credence for his tale to gain, Showed the huge fiend(33) by Bali slain. The prostrate corse of mountain size Seemed nothing in the hero's eyes; He lightly kicked it, as it lay, And cast it twenty leagues(34) away. To prove his might his arrows through Seven palms in line, uninjured, flew. He cleft a mighty hill apart, And down to hell he hurled his dart.

"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."

A thousand beauties fill my hall: Be thou my wife and rule them all. O hear my supplication! why This reasonable prayer deny? Some pity to thy suitor show, For love's hot flames within me glow. This isle a hundred leagues in length, Encompassed by the ocean's strength, Would all the Gods and fiends defy Though led by Him who rules the sky. No God in heaven, no sage on earth, No minstrel of celestial birth, No spirit in the worlds I see A match in power and might for me. What wilt thou do with Rama, him Whose days are short, whose light is dim, Expelled from home and royal sway, Who treads on foot his weary way? Leave the poor mortal to his fate, And wed thee with a worthier mate. My timid love, enjoy with me The prime of youth before it flee. Do not one hour the hope retain To look on Rama's face again. For whom would wildest thought beguile To seek thee in the giants' isle? Say who is he has power to bind In toils of net the rushing wind. Whose is the mighty hand will tame And hold the glory of the flame? In all the worlds above, below, Not one, O fair of form, I know Who from this isle in fight could rend The lady whom these arms defend. Fair Queen, o'er Lanka's island reign, Sole mistress of the wide domain. Gods, rovers of the night like me, And all the world thy slaves will be. O'er thy fair brows and queenly head Let consecrating balm be shed, And sorrow banished from thy breast, Enjoy my love and take thy rest. Here never more thy soul shall know The memory of thy former woe, And here shall thou enjoy the meed Deserved by every virtuous deed. Here garlands glow of flowery twine, With gorgeous hues and scent divine. Take gold and gems and rich attire: Enjoy with me thy heart's desire. There stand, of chariots far the best, The car my brother once possessed. Which, victor in the stricken field, I forced the Lord of Gold to yield. 'Tis wide and high and nobly wrought, Bright as the sun and swift as thought.

"By Bali's conquering might oppressed, Of power and kingship dispossessed, Loaded with taunts of scorn and hate I left my realm and royal state. He tore away my consort: she Was dearer than my life to me, And many a friend to me and mine In hopeless chains was doomed to pine. With wicked thoughts, unsated still, Me whom he wrongs he yearns to kill; And spies of Vanar race, who tried To slay me, by this hand have died. Moved by this constant doubt and fear I saw thee, Prince, and came not near. When woe and peril gather round A foe in every form is found. Save Hanuman, O Raghu's son, And these, no friend is left me, none. Through their kind aid, a faithful band Who guard their lord from hostile hand, Rest when their chieftain rests and bend Their steps where'er he lists to wend,-- Through them alone, in toil and pain, My wretched life I still sustain. Enough, for thou hast heard in brief The story of my pain and grief. His mighty strength all regions know, My brother, but my deadly foe. Ah, if the proud oppressor fell, His death would all my woe dispel. Yea, on my cruel conqueror's fall My joy depends, my life, my all. This were the end and sure relief, O Rama, of my tale of grief. Fair be his lot or dark with woe, No comfort like a friend I know."

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

The piteous tears his eye bedewed As thus his speech the bird renewed; "Alas my brother, slain in fight By Ravan's unresisted might! I, old and wingless, weak and worn, O'er his sad fate can only mourn. Fled is my youth: in life's decline My former strength no more is mine. Once on the day when Vritra(765) died, We brothers, in ambitious pride, Sought, mounting with adventurous flight, The Day-God garlanded with light. On, ever on we urged our way Where fields of ether round us lay, Till, by the fervent heat assailed, My brother's pinions flagged and failed. I marked his sinking strength, and spread My stronger wings to screen his head, Till, all my feathers burnt away, On Vindhya's hill I fell and lay. There in my lone and helpless state I heard not of my brother's fate."

Then in sweet accents low and mild The Vanar spoke to Janak's child: "A noble king, by sin unstained, The mighty Dasaratha reigned. Lord of the warrior's car and steed, The pride of old Ikshvaku's seed. A faithful friend, a blameless king, Protector of each living thing. A glorious monarch, strong to save, Blest with the bliss he freely gave. His son, the best of all who know The science of the bended bow, Was moon-bright Rama, brave and strong, Who loved the right and loathed the wrong, Who ne'er from kingly duty swerved, Loved by the lands his might preserved. His feet the path of law pursued; His arm rebellious foes subdued. His sire's command the prince obeyed And, banished, sought the forest shade, Where with his wife and brother he Wandered a saintly devotee. There as he roamed the wilds he slew The bravest of the Rakshas crew. The giant king the prince beguiled, And stole his consort, Janak's child. Then Rama roamed the country round, And a firm friend, Sugriva, found, Lord of the Vanar race, expelled From his own realm which Bali held, He conquered Bali and restored The kingdom to the rightful lord. Then by Sugriva's high decree The Vanar legions searched for thee, Sampati's counsel bade me leap A hundred leagues across the deep. And now my happy eyes have seen At last the long-sought Maithil queen. Such was the form, the eye, the grace Of her whom Rama bade me trace."

Then Rama, that his friend might know His strength unrivalled, grasped his bow, That mighty bow the foe's dismay,-- And on the string an arrow lay. Next on the tree his eye he bent, And forth the hurtling weapon went. Loosed from the matchless hero's hold, That arrow, decked with burning gold, Cleft the seven palms in line, and through The hill that rose behind them flew: Six subterranean realms it passed, And reached the lowest depth at last, Whence speeding back through earth and air It sought the quiver, and rested there.(573) Upon the cloven trees amazed, The sovereign of the Vanars gazed. With all his chains and gold outspread Prostrate on earth he laid his head. Then, rising, palm to palm he laid In reverent act, obeisance made, And joyously to Rama, best Of war-trained chiefs, these words addressed:

"And breathes there one so cold and weak The forest and the gloom to seek Where savage beasts abound, and spare To taste the luscious honey there? Art thou not lord? and who is he Shall venture to give laws to thee? Love thy Videhan still, and tread Upon thy prostrate foeman's head. O'er Sita's will let thine prevail, And strength achieve if flattery fail. What though the lady yet be coy And turn her from the proffered joy? Soon shall her conquered heart relent And yield to love and blandishment. With us let Kumbhakarna fight, And Indrajit of matchless might: We need not other champions, they Shall lead us forth to rout and slay. Not ours to bribe or soothe or part The foeman's force with gentle art, Doomed, conquered by our might, to feel The vengeance of the warrior's steel."

Mad with the rage of injured pride King Ravan summoned to his side The valiant five who led his host, Supreme in war and honoured most. "Go forth," he cried, "with car and steed, And to my feet this monkey lead, But watch each chance of time and place To seize this thing of silvan race. For from his wondrous exploits he No monkey of the woods can be, But some new kind of creature meant To work us woe, by Indra sent. Gandharvas, Nagas, and the best Of Yakshas have our might confessed. Have we not challenged and subdued The whole celestial multitude? Yet will you not, if you are wise, A chief of monkey race despise. For I myself have Bali known, And King Sugriva's power I own. But none of all their woodland throng Was half so terrible and strong."

"Yet more remain, brave chiefs who stake Their noble lives for Rama's sake. See, glorious, golden-coated, one Who glisters like the morning sun, Whom thousands of his race surround, 'Tis Hara for his strength renowned. Next comes a mighty chieftain, he Whose legions, armed with rock and tree, Press on, in numbers passing tale, The ramparts of our town to scale. O Ravan, see the king advance Terrific with his fiery glance, Girt by the bravest of his train, Majestic as the God of Rain, Parjanya, when his host of clouds About the king, embattled, crowds: On Rikshavan's high mountain nursed, In Narmada(940) he slakes his thirst, Dhumra, proud ursine chief, who leads Wild warriors whom the forest breeds. His brother, next in strength and age, In Jambavan the famous sage. Of yore his might and skill he lent To him who rules the firmament, And Indra's liberal boons repaid The chieftain for the timely aid. There like a gloomy cloud that flies Borne by the tempest through the skies, Pramathi stands: he roamed of yore The forest wilds on Ganga's shore, Where elephants were struck with dread And trembling at his coming fled. There on his foes he loved to sate The old hereditary hate.(941) Look, Gaja and Gavaksha show Their lust of battle with the foe. See Nala burning for the fray, And Nila chafing at delay. Behind the eager captains press Wild hosts in numbers numberless, And each for Rama's sake would fall Or force his way through Lanka's wall."

Then Bharat shook in every limb As suppliant thus he spake to him: "The duty of a king respect, Held by our race in high respect: And O, thy gracious ear incline To heed my mother's prayer and mine. The mighty realm to rule and guard For me alone is task too hard. No power have I the love to gain Of noble, citizen, and swain. All those who know thee, warrior, friend, On thee their eager glances bend, As labouring hinds who till the plain Look fondly for the Lord of Rain. O wisest Prince, thy realm secure, And make its firm foundations sure. Kakutstha's son, thy mighty arm Can keep the nation free from harm." He spoke, and fell in sorrow drowned At Rama's feet upon the ground, And there the hero sued and sighed, And "Hear me, Raghu's son," he cried.

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?"

When Rama and the host he led Across the sea had safely sped, Thus Ravan, moved by wrath and pride, To Suka and to Saran cried: "O counsellors, the Vanar host Has passed the sea from coast to coast, And Dasaratha's son has wrought A wondrous deed surpassing thought. And now in truth I needs must know The strength and number of the foe. Go ye, to Rama's host repair And count me all the legions there. Learn well what power each captain leads His name and fame for warlike deeds. Learn by what artist's wondrous aid That bridge athwart the sea was made; Learn how the Vanar host came o'er And halted on the island shore. Mark Rama son of Raghu well; His valour, strength, and weapons tell. Watch his advisers one by one, And Lakshman, Raghu's younger son. Learn with observant eyes, and bring "Unerring tidings to your king.

They sought the king, a mournful train, And cried, "My lord, thy son is slain. By Lakshman's hand, before these eyes, The warrior fell no more to rise. No time is this for vain regret: Thy hero son a hero met; And he whose might in battle pressed Lord Indra and the Gods confessed, Whose power was stranger to defeat, Has gained in heaven a blissful seat."

"She whom like some sweet herb of grace Thou seekest in this lonely place, Fair lady, is fierce Ravan's prey, Who took, beside, my life away. Lakshman and thou had parted hence And left the dame without defence. I saw her swiftly borne away By Ravan's might which none could stay. I hurried to the lady's aid, I crushed his car and royal shade, And putting forth my warlike might Hurled Ravan to the earth in fight. Here, Rama, lies his broken bow, Here lie the arrows of the foe. There on the ground before thee are The fragments of his battle car. There bleeds the driver whom my wings Beat down with ceaseless buffetings. When toil my aged strength subdued, His sword my weary pinions hewed. Then lifting up the dame he bare His captive through the fields of air. Thy vengeful blows from me restrain, Already by the giant slain."

He ceased: and Rama answered, while Played o'er his lips a gracious smile: "Not yet convinced? This clear assay Shall drive each lingering doubt away." Thus Rama spoke his heart to cheer, To Dundubhi's vast frame drew near: He touched it with his foot in play And sent it twenty leagues away. Sugriva marked what easy force Hurled through the air that demon's corse Whose mighty bones were white and dried, And to the son of Raghu cried: "My brother Bali, when his might Was drunk and weary from the fight, Hurled forth the monster body, fresh With skin and sinews, blood and flesh. Now flesh and blood are dried away, The crumbling bones are light as hay, Which thou, O Raghu's son, hast sent Flying through air in merriment. This test alone is weak to show If thou be stronger or the foe. By thee a heap of mouldering bone, By him the recent corse was thrown. Thy strength, O Prince, is yet untried: Come, pierce one tree: let this decide. Prepare thy ponderous bow and bring Close to thine ear the straining string. On yonder Sal tree fix thine eye, And let the mighty arrow fly, I doubt not, chief, that I shall see Thy pointed shaft transfix the tree. Then come, assay the easy task, And do for love the thing I ask. Best of all lights, the Day-God fills With glory earth and sky: Himalaya is the lord of hills That heave their heads on high. The royal lion is the best Of beasts that tread the earth; And thou, O hero, art confessed First in heroic worth."

With heavy hand the giant smote Hanuman on the chest and throat, Who reeled and staggered to and fro, Stunned for a moment by the blow. Till, mustering strength, his hand he reared And struck the foe whom Indra feared. His huge limbs bent beneath the shock, As mountains, in an earthquake, rock, And from the Gods and sages pealed Shouts of loud triumph as he reeled. But strength returning nerved his frame: His eyeballs flashed with fiercer flame. No living creature might resist That blow of his tremendous fist Which fell upon Hanuman's flank: And to the ground the Vanar sank, No sign of life his body showed: And Ravan in his chariot rode At Nila; and his arrowy rain Fell on the captain and his train. Fierce Nila stayed his Vanar band, And, heaving with his single hand A mountain peak, with vigorous swing Hurled the huge missile at the king.

At length a spirit, loving ill, Tadaka, wearing shapes at will, Whose mighty strength, exceeding vast, A thousand elephants, surpassed, Was to fierce Sunda, lord and head Of all the demon armies, wed. From her, Lord Indra's peer in might Giant Maricha sprang to light: And she, a constant plague and pest, These two fair realms has long distressed. Now dwelling in her dark abode A league away she bars the road: And we, O Rama, hence must go Where lies the forest of the foe. Now on thine own right arm rely, And my command obey: Smite the foul monster that she die, And take the plague away. To reach this country none may dare Fallen from its old estate, Which she, whose fury naught can bear, Has left so desolate. And now my truthful tale is told How with accursed sway The spirit plagued this wood of old, And ceases not to-day."

Then to his deadly string the pride Of Raghu's race a shaft applied. Sharp as a serpent's venomed fang Straight to its mark the arrow sprang, And from the giant's body shred With trenchant steel the monstrous head. There might the triple world behold That severed head adorned with gold. But when all eyes were bent to view, Swift in its stead another grew. Again the shaft was pointed well: Again the head divided fell; But still as each to earth was cast Another head succeeded fast. A hundred, bright with fiery flame, Fell low before the victor's aim, Yet Ravan by no sign betrayed That death was near or strength decayed. The doubtful fight he still maintained, And on the foe his missiles rained. In air, on earth, on plain, on hill, With awful might he battled still; And through the hours of night and day The conflict knew no pause or stay.

"Videhan Queen, be sure of this,-- And at the thought thy fear dismiss,-- Thy husband's mightier power defies All Gods and angels of the skies, Gandharvas, and the sons of light, Serpents, and rovers of the night. I tell thee, of the sons of earth, Of Gods who boast celestial birth, Of beasts and birds and giant hosts, Of demigods, Gandharvas, ghosts, Of awful fiends, O thou most fair, There lives not one whose heart would dare To meet thy Rama in the fight, Like Indra's self unmatched in might. Such idle words thou must not say Thy Rama lives whom none may slay. I will not, cannot leave thee here In the wild wood till he be near. The mightiest strength can ne'er withstand His eager force, his vigorous hand. No, not the triple world allied With all the immortal Gods beside. Dismiss thy fear, again take heart, Let all thy doubt and woe depart. Thy lord, be sure, will soon be here And bring thee back that best of deer. Not his, not his that mournful cry, Nor haply came it from the sky. Some giant's art was busy there And framed a castle based on air. A precious pledge art thou, consigned To me by him of noblest mind, Nor can I fairest dame, forsake The pledge which Rama bade me take. Upon our heads, O Queen, we drew The giants' hate when Rama slew Their chieftain Khara, and the shade Of Janasthan in ruin laid. Through all this mighty wood they rove With varied cries from grove to grove On rapine bent they wander here: But O, dismiss thy causeless fear."

Thus in loud tones the king exclaimed, And mute stood Malyavan ashamed, His reverend head he humbly bent, And slowly to his mansion went. But Ravan stayed, and deep in care Held counsel with his nobles there, All entrance to secure and close, And guard the city from their foes. He bade the chief Prahasta wait, Commander at the eastern gate, To fierce Mahodar, strong and brave, To keep the southern gate, he gave, Where Mahaparsva's might should aid The chieftain with his hosts arrayed. To guard the west--no chief more fit-- He placed the warrior Indrajit, His son, the giant's joy and boast, Surrounded by a Rakshas host: And mighty Saran hastened forth With Suka to protect the north.(945) "I will myself," the monarch cried, "Be present on the northern side." These orders for the walls' defence The tyrant gave, then parted thence, And, by the hope of victory fired, To chambers far within, retired.

Then spoke the hermit pious-souled: "Rama, dear son, the bow behold." Then Rama at his word unclosed The chest wherein its might reposed, Thus crying, as he viewed it: "Lo! I lay mine hand upon the bow: May happy luck my hope attend Its heavenly strength to lift or bend." "Good luck be thine," the hermit cried: "Assay the task!" the king replied. Then Raghu's son, as if in sport, Before the thousands of the court, The weapon by the middle raised That all the crowd in wonder gazed. With steady arm the string he drew Till burst the mighty bow in two. As snapped the bow, an awful clang, Loud as the shriek of tempests, rang. The earth, affrighted, shook amain As when a hill is rent in twain. Then, senseless at the fearful sound, The people fell upon the ground: None save the king, the princely pair, And the great saint, the shock could bear.

As thus the mighty Danu prayed With offer of his friendly aid, While Lakshman gazed with anxious eye, The virtuous Rama made reply: "Lakshman and I through forest shade From Janasthan a while had strayed. When none was near her, Ravan came And bore away my glorious dame, The giant's form and size unknown, I learn as yet his name alone. Not yet the power and might we know Or dwelling of the monstrous foe. With none our helpless feet to guide We wander here by sorrow tried. Let pity move thee to requite Our service in the funeral rite. Our hands shall bring the boughs that, dry Where elephants have rent them, lie, Then dig a pit, and light the fire To burn thee as the laws require. Do thou as meed of this declare Who stole my spouse, his dwelling where. O, if thou can, I pray thee say, And let this grace our deeds repay."

Then the great saint, in duty trained, With honour gladly entertained: He gave his guests a welcome fair, And bade them sit and rest them there, Rama of mighty arm and chest His faithful Lakshman then addressed: "Brother, bring hither from the wood Selected timber strong and good, And build therewith a little cot; My heart rejoices in the spot That lies beneath the mountain's side, Remote, with water well supplied."

E'en now on ocean's farther strand, The sons of Dasaratha stand, And follow, burning to attack Their giant foes, on Sita's track. Consult then, lords for ye are wise: A seasonable plan devise. The captive lady to retain, And triumph when the foes are slain. No power can bring across the foam Those Vanars to our island home; Or if they madly will defy Our conquering might, they needs must die."

The damsel's breast with fury burned: She answered, as the gift she spurned: "What time, O simple Queen, is this For idle dreams of fancied bliss? Hast thou not sense thy state to know, Engulfed in seas of whelming woe; Sick as I am with grief and pain My lips can scarce a laugh restrain To see thee hail with ill-timed joy A peril mighty to destroy. I mourn for one so fondly blind: What woman of a prudent mind Would welcome, e'en as thou hast done, The lordship of a rival's son, Rejoiced to find her secret foe Empowered, like death, to launch the blow; I see that Rama still must fear Thy Bharat, to his throne too near. Hence is my heart disquieted, For those who fear are those we dread. Lakshman, the mighty bow who draws, With all his soul serves Rama's cause; And chains as strong to Bharat bind Satrughna, with his heart and mind, Now next to Rama, lady fair, Thy Bharat is the lawful heir: And far remote, I ween, the chance That might the younger two advance. Yes, Queen, 'tis Rama that I dread, Wise, prompt, in warlike science bred; And oh, I tremble when I think Of thy dear child on ruin's brink. Blest with a lofty fate is she, Kausalya; for her son will be Placed, when the moon and Pushya meet, By Brahmans on the royal seat, Thou as a slave in suppliant guise Must wait upon Kausalya's eyes, With all her wealth and bliss secured And glorious from her foes assured. Her slave with us who serve thee, thou Wilt see thy son to Rama bow, And Sita's friends exult o'er all, While Bharat's wife shares Bharat's fall."

"Assailed by thirst and hunger, dame, Within a gloomy vault we came. We saw the cavern opening wide, And straight within its depths we hied. But utterly amazed are we At all the marvels that we see. Whose are the golden trees that gleam With splendour like the morning's beam? These cates of noblest sort? these roots? This wondrous store of rarest fruits? Whose are these calm and cool retreats, These silver homes and golden seats, And lattices of precious stones? Who is the happy lord that owns The golden trees, of rarest scent, Neath loads of fruit and blossom bent? Who, strong in holy zeal, had power To deck the streams with richest dower, And bade the lilies bright with gold The glory of their blooms unfold, Where fish in living gold below The sheen of changing colours show? Thine is the holy power, I ween, That beautified the wondrous scene; But if another's, lady, deign To tell us, and the whole explain."

Thus he on mighty thoughts intent; Then thus the sage most eloquent: "King Dasaratha's sons, this pair Of warriors famous everywhere, Are come that best of bows to see That lies a treasure stored by thee. This, mighty Janak, deign to show, That they may look upon the bow, And then, contented, homeward go." Then royal Janak spoke in turn: "O best of Saints, the story learn Why this famed bow, a noble prize, A treasure in my palace lies. A monarch, Devarat by name, Who sixth from ancient Nimi came, Held it as ruler of the land, A pledge in his successive hand. This bow the mighty Rudra bore At Daksha's(245) sacrifice of yore, When carnage of the Immortals stained The rite that Daksha had ordained. Then as the Gods sore wounded fled, Victorious Rudra, mocking, said: "Because, O Gods, ye gave me naught When I my rightful portion sought, Your dearest parts I will not spare, But with my bow your frames will tear."

Then red with rage his eyeballs blazed: The sacred ladle high he raised, And cried to King Ikshvaku's son: "Behold my power, by penance won: Now by the might my merits lend, Ikshvaku's child, to heaven ascend. In living frame the skies attain, Which mortals thus can scarcely gain. My vows austere, so long endured, Have, as I ween, some fruit assured. Upon its virtue, King, rely, And in thy body reach the sky."

Then as the son of Raghu made His way to Panchavati's shade, A mighty vulture he beheld Of size and strength unparalleled. The princes, when the bird they saw, Approached with reverence and awe, And as his giant form they eyed, "Tell who thou art," in wonder cried. The bird, as though their hearts to gain, Addressed them thus in gentlest strain; "In me, dear sons, the friend behold Your royal father loved of old."

"As to the saint I thus complained My bitter tears fell unrestrained. He pondered for a while, then broke The silence, and thus calmly spoke: "Forth from thy sides again shall spring, O royal bird, each withered wing, And all thine ancient power and might Return to thee with strength of sight. A noble deed has been foretold In prophecy pronounced of old: Nor dark to me are future things, Seen by the light which penance brings. A glorious king shall rise and reign, The pride of old Ikshvaku's strain. A good and valiant prince, his heir, Shall the dear name of Rama bear. With his brave brother Lakshman he An exile in the woods shall be, Where Ravan, whom no God may slay,(777) Shall steal his darling wife away. In vain the captive will be wooed With proffered love and dainty food, She will not hear, she will not taste: But, lest her beauty wane and waste, Lord Indra's self will come to her With heavenly food, and minister. Then envoys of the Vanar race By Rama sent will seek this place. To them, O roamer of the air, The lady's fate shalt thou declare. Thou must not move--so maimed thou art Thou canst not from this spot depart. Await the day and moment due, And thy burnt wings will sprout anew. I might this day the boon bestow And bid again thy pinions grow, But wait until thy saving deed The nations from their fear have freed. Then for this glorious aid of thine The princes of Ikshvaku's line, And Gods above and saints below Eternal gratitude shall owe. Fain would mine aged eyes behold That pair of whom my lips have told, Yet wearied here I must not stay, But leave my frame and pass away."

In suppliant tone the Vanar prayed, And Raghu's son his answer made: "By Lakshman's hand this flowery twine Was wound about thee for a sign. The wreath of giant creeper throws About thy form its brillant glows, As though about the sun were set The bright stars for a coronet. One shaft of mine this day, dear friend, Thy sorrow and thy fear shall end. And, from the bowstring freed, shall be Giver of freedom, King, to thee. Then come, Sugriva, quickly show, Where'er he lie, thy bitter foe; And let my glance the wretch descry Whose deeds, a brother's name belie. Yea, soon in dust and blood o'erthrown Shall Bali fall and gasp and groan. Once let this eye the foeman see, Then, if he live to turn and flee, Despise my puny strength, and shame With foul opprobrium Rama's name. Hast thou not seen his hand, O King, Through seven tall trees one arrow wing? Still in that strength securely trust, And deem thy foeman in the dust. In all my days, though surely tried By grief and woe, I ne'er have lied; And still by duty's law restrained Will ne'er with falsehood's charge be stained. Cast doubt away: the oath I sware Its kindly fruit shall quickly bear, As smiles the land with golden grain By mercy of the Lord of rain. Oh, warrior to the gate I defy Thy foe with shout and battle-cry, Till Bali with his chain of gold Come speeding from his royal hold. Proud hearts, with warlike fire aglow, Brook not the challenge of a foe: Each on his power and might relies, And most before his ladies eyes. King Bali loves the fray too well To linger in his citadel, And, when he hears thy battle-shout, All wild for war will hasten out."

But Atikaya's wrath grew high To see his noblest kinsmen die. He, fiercest of the giant race, Presuming still on Brahma's grace; Proud tamer of the Immortals' pride, Whose power and might with Indra's vied, For blood and vengeful carnage burned, And on the foe his fury turned. High on a car that flashed and glowed Bright as a thousand suns he rode. Around his princely brows was set A rich bejewelled coronet. Gold pendants in his ears he wore; He strained and tried the bow he bore, And ever, as a shaft he aimed, His name and royal race proclaimed. Scarce might the Vanars brook to hear His clanging bow and voice of fear: To Raghu's elder son they fled, Their sure defence in woe and dread. Then Rama bent his eyes afar And saw the giant in his car Fast following the flying crowd And roaring like a rainy cloud. He, with the lust of battle fired, Turned to Vibhishan and inquired: "Say, who is this, of mountain size, This archer with the lion eyes? His car, which strikes our host with awe, A thousand eager coursers draw. Surrounded by the flashing spears Which line his car, the chief appears Like some huge cloud when lightnings play About it on a stormy day; And the great bow he joys to hold Whose bended back is bright with gold, As Indra's bow makes glad the skies, That best of chariots glorifies. O see the sunlike splendour flung From the great flag above him hung, Where, blazoned with refulgent lines, Rahu(988) the dreadful Dragon shines. Full thirty quivers near his side, His car with shafts is well supplied: And flashing like the light of stars Gleam his two mighty scimitars. Say, best of giants, who is he Before whose face the Vanars flee?"

Each paid to Heaven the offerings due, And none was godless or untrue In all that holy band. To Brahmans, as the laws ordain, The Warrior caste were ever fain The reverence due to pay; And these the Vaisyas' peaceful crowd, Who trade and toil for gain, were proud To honour and obey; And all were by the Sudras(70) served, Who never from their duty swerved, Their proper worship all addressed To Brahman, spirits, God, and guest. Pure and unmixt their rites remained, Their race's honour ne'er was stained.(71) Cheered by his grandsons, sons, and wife, Each passed a long and happy life. Thus was that famous city held By one who all his race excelled, Blest in his gentle reign, As the whole land aforetime swayed By Manu, prince of men, obeyed Her king from main to main. And heroes kept her, strong and brave, As lions guard their mountain cave: Fierce as devouring flame they burned, And fought till death, but never turned. Horses had she of noblest breed, Like Indra's for their form and speed, From Vahli's(72) hills and Sindhu's(73) sand, Vanayu(74) and Kamboja's land.(75) Her noble elephants had strayed Through Vindhyan and Himalayan shade, Gigantic in their bulk and height, Yet gentle in their matchless might. They rivalled well the world-spread fame Of the great stock from which they came, Of Vaman, vast of size, Of Mahapadma's glorious line, Thine, Anjan, and, Airavat, thine.(76) Upholders of the skies. With those, enrolled in fourfold class, Who all their mighty kin surpass, Whom men Matangas name, And Mrigas spotted black and white, And Bhadras of unwearied might, And Mandras hard to tame.(77) Thus, worthy of the name she bore,(78) Ayodhya for a league or more Cast a bright glory round, Where Dasaratha wise and great Governed his fair ancestral state, With every virtue crowned.