Ramayana on Truth

The son of Raghu gave assent, And quickly to the south they went; With eager eyes the earth he scanned, And Lakshman followed close at hand. As each to other spake his thought, And round with anxious glances sought, Scattered before them in the way, Blooms of a fallen garland lay. When Rama saw that flowery rain He spoke once more with bitterest pain: "O Lakshman every flower that lies Here on the ground I recognize. I culled them in the grove, and there My darling twined them in her hair. The sun, the earth, the genial breeze Have spared these flowers my soul to please."

He spoke: Sugriva's bosom swelled With hope and joy unparalleled. Then his glad voice the Vanar raised, And thus the son of Raghu praised: "Long have I pined in depth of grief; Thou art the hope of all, O chief. Now, Raghu's son, I hail thee friend, And bid thee to my woes attend; For, by my truth I swear it, now Not life itself is dear as thou, Since by the witness fire we met And friendly hand in hand was set. Friend communes now with friend, and hence I tell with surest confidence, How woes that on my spirit weigh Consume me through the night and day."

The pious king, with grief distressed, The noble hundred thus addressed: "With patience, daughters, bear your fate, Yours was a deed supremely great When with one mind you kept from shame The honour of your father's name. Patience, when men their anger vent, Is woman's praise and ornament; Yet when the Gods inflict the blow Hard is it to support the woe. Patience, my girls, exceeds all price: 'Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice. Patience is virtue, patience fame: Patience upholds this earthly frame. And now, I think, is come the time To wed you in your maiden prime. Now, daughters, go where'er you will: Thoughts for your good my mind shall fill."

"Sumitra's son, a friend in show, Thou art in truth thy brother's foe, Who canst at such any hour deny Thy succour and neglect his cry. Yes, Lakshman, smit with love of me Thy brother's death thou fain wouldst see. This guilty love thy heart has swayed And makes thy feet so loth to aid. Thou hast no love for Rama, no: Thy joy is vice, thy thoughts are low Hence thus unmoved thou yet canst stay While my dear lord is far away. If aught of ill my lord betide Who led thee here, thy chief and guide, Ah, what will be my hapless fate Left in the wild wood desolate!"

"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."

She ceased, and Hanuman replied, By shape and threat unterrified: "Brave Rama with his Maithil spouse Lodged in the shade of Dandak's boughs, Thence Ravan king of giants stole Sita the joy of Rama's soul. By Rama's high behest to her I go a willing messenger; And never shouldst them hinder one Who toils for Dasaratha's son. First captive Sita will I see, And him who sent and waits for me, Then come and to thy will submit, Yea, by my truth I promise it." "Nay, hope not thus thy life to save; Not such the boon that Brahma gave. Enter my mouth," was her reply, "Then forward on thy journey hie!"(796)

I feared to draw the arrow out, And pondered thus in painful doubt: "Now tortured by the shaft he lies, But if I draw it forth he dies." Helpless I stood, faint, sorely grieved: The hermit's son my thought perceived; As one o'ercome by direst pain He scarce had strength to speak again. With writhing limb and struggling breath, Nearer and ever nearer death "My senses undisturbed remain, And fortitude has conquered pain: Now from one tear thy soul be freed. Thy hand has made a Brahman bleed. Let not this pang thy bosom wring: No twice-born youth am I, O King, For of a Vaisya sire I came, Who wedded with a Sudra dame."

To Indrajit(878) the bold and brave The giant king his mandate gave: "O trained in warlike science, best In arms of all our mightiest, Whose valour in the conflict shown To Asurs and to Gods is known, The Kinkars whom I sent are slain, And Jambumali and his train; The lords who led our giant bands Have fallen by the monkey's hands; With shattered cars the ground is spread, And Aksha lies amid the dead. Thou art my best and bravest: go, Unmatched in power, and slay the foe." He heard the hest: he bent his head; Athirst for battle forth he sped. Four tigers fierce, of tawny hue, With fearful teeth, his chariot drew.

Fair as the lord of silvery rays Whom every star in heaven obeys, The Maithil dame her plaint renewed O'er him by Ravan's might subdued: "Dreams, omens, auguries foreshow Our coming lot of weal and woe: But thou, my Rama, couldst not see The grievous blow which falls on thee. The birds and deer desert the brakes And show the path my captor takes, And thus e'en now this royal bird Flew to mine aid by pity stirred. Slain for my sake in death he lies, The broad-winged rover of the skies. O Rama, haste, thine aid I crave: O Lakshman, why delay to save? Brave sons of old Ikshvaku, hear And rescue in this hour of fear."

Thus Rama spoke, and Lakshman then Made answer to the prince of men: "Yea, if the Vanar, undeterred By fear of vengeance, break his word, Loss of his royal power ere long Shall pay the traitor for the wrong. Nor deem I him so void of sense To brave the bitter consequence. But if enslaved to joy he lie, And scorn thy grace with blinded eye, Then let him join his brother slain: Unmeet were such a wretch to reign. Quick rises, kindling in my breast, The wrath that will not be repressed, And bids me in my fury slay The breaker of his faith to-day. Let Bali's son thy consort trace With bravest chiefs of Vanar race."

Still was the cry, "The Vanar foes Around the leaguered city close." King Ravan from the terrace gazed And saw, with eyes where fury blazed, The Vanar host in serried ranks Press to the moat and line the banks, And, first in splendour and in place, The lion lord of Raghu's race. And Rama looked on Lanka where Gay flags were streaming to the air, And, while keen sorrow pierced him through, His loving thoughts to Sita flew: "There, there in deep affliction lies My darling with the fawn-like eyes. There on the cold bare ground she keeps Sad vigil and for Rama weeps." Mad with the thought, "Charge, charge," he cried. "Let earth with Rakshas blood be dyed."

Then, by the saint Vasishtha pressed, And all the gathered priests beside, To Bharat's dutiful request The hermit graciously replied: "Worthy of thee, O Prince, this deed, True son of Raghu's ancient seed. I know thee reverent, well-controlled, The glory of the good of old. I grant thy prayer: in this pursuit I know thy heart is resolute. 'Tis for thy sake those words I said That wider still thy fame may spread. I know where Rama, duty-tried, His brother, and his wife abide. Where Chitrakuta's heights arise Thy brother Rama's dwelling lies. Go thither with the morning's light, And stay with all thy lords tonight: For I would show thee honour high, And do not thou my wish deny."

But special counselling he gave To Hanuman the wise and brave: To him on whom his soul relied, With friendly words the monarch cried: "O best of Vanars, naught can stay By land or sea thy rapid way, Who through the air thy flight canst bend, And to the Immortals' home ascend. All realms, I ween, are known to thee With every mountain, lake, and sea. In strength and speed which naught can tire Thou, worthy rival of thy sire The mighty monarch of the wind, Where'er thou wilt a way canst find. Exert thy power, O swift and strong, Bring back the lady lost so long, For time and place, O thou most wise, Lie open to thy searching eyes."

Trisanku's speech the hundred heard, And thus replied, to anger stirred: "Why foolish King, by him denied, Whose truthful lips have never lied, Dost thou transgress his prudent rule, And seek, for aid, another school?(235) Ikshvaku's sons have aye relied Most surely on their holy guide: Then how dost thou, fond Monarch, dare Transgress the rule his lips declare? "Thy wish is vain," the saint replied, And bade thee cast the plan aside. Then how can we, his sons, pretend In such a rite our aid to lend? O Monarch, of the childish heart, Home to thy royal town depart. That mighty saint, thy priest and guide, At noblest rites may well preside: The worlds for sacrifice combined A worthier priest could never find."

Nor Bali farther dared pursue, The curbing curse too well he knew. "Fled from thy death!" the victor cried, And home the mighty warrior hied. Hanuman, Lakshman, Raghu's son Beheld the conquered Vanar run, And followed to the sheltering shade Where yet Sugriva stood dismayed. Near and more near the chieftains came, Then, for intolerable shame, Not daring yet to lift his eyes, Sugriva spoke with burning sighs: "Thy matchless strength I first beheld, And dared my foe, by thee impelled. Why hast thou tried me with deceit And urged me to a sure defeat? Thou shouldst have said, "I will not slay Thy foeman in the coming fray." For had I then thy purpose known I had not waged the fight alone."

"Fair Queen," he said, "our task is done: The foe is slain and Lanka won. Triumphant mid triumphant friends Kind words of greeting Rama sends. "Blest for thy sake, O spouse most true, My deadly foe I met and slew. Mine eyes are strangers yet to sleep: I built a bridge athwart the deep And crossed the sea to Lanka's shore To keep the mighty oath I swore. Now, gentle love, thy cares dispel, And weep no more, for all is well. Fear not in Ravan's house to stay For good Vibhishan now bears sway, For constant truth and friendship known Regard his palace as thine own." He greets thee thus thy heart to cheer, And urged by love will soon be here."

When Lakshman, who had joined them there, Had heard the converse of the pair, His mien was changed, his eyes o'erflowed, His breast no more could bear its load. The son of Raghu, sore distressed, His brother's feet with fervour pressed, While thus to Sita he complained, And him by lofty vows enchained: "If thou wilt make the woods thy home, Where elephant and roebuck roam, I too this day will take my bow And in the path before thee go. Our way will lie through forest ground Where countless birds and beasts are found, I heed not homes of Gods on high, I heed not life that cannot die, Nor would I wish, with thee away, O'er the three worlds to stretch my sway."

Sumantra, when, with grieving heart, He heard the hero bid him part, Thus to the bravest of the brave, Ikshvaku's son, his answer gave: "In all the world men tell of naught, To match thy deed, by heroes wrought-- Thus with thy brother and thy wife Thrall-like to lead a forest life. No meet reward of fruit repays Thy holy lore, thy saintlike days, Thy tender soul, thy love of truth, If woe like this afflicts thy youth. Thou, roaming under forest boughs With thy dear brother and thy spouse Shalt richer meed of glory gain Than if three worlds confessed thy reign. Sad is our fate, O Rama: we, Abandoned and repelled by thee, Must serve as thralls Kaikeyi's will, Imperious, wicked, born to ill."

"Still to my father's word I hold, Whate'er he bought, or pledged, or sold: Ne'er shall his living promise be Annulled by Bharat or by me. Not thus my task will I evade, My exile on another laid: Most wise was Queen Kaikeyi's rede, And just and good my father's deed. Dear Bharat's patient soul I know, How reverence due he loves to show; In him, high-souled and faithful found, Must each auspicious grace abound. When from the woods I turn again I with his aid shall nobly reign, With one so good, of peerless worth, A glorious lord of happy earth. Her boon Kaikeyi sought and won. I, as my father swore, have done: And O, do thou, my brother dear, The monarch's name from falsehood clear.

They heard his speech: the car was brought; That shady grove the warders sought Where, mourning Rama night and day, The melancholy lady lay. They placed her in the car and through The yielding air they swiftly flew. The lady looked upon the plain, Looked on the heaps of Vanar slain, Saw where, triumphant in the fight, Thronged the fierce rovers of the night, And Vanar chieftains, mournful-eyed, Watched by the fallen brothers' side. There stretched upon his gory bed Each brother lay as lie the dead, With shattered mail and splintered bow Pierced by the arrows of the foe. When on the pair her eyes she bent, Burst from her lips a wild lament Her eyes o'erflowed, she groaned and sighed And thus in trembling accents cried:

The hundred girls, to wonder stirred, The wooing of the Wind-God heard, Laughed, as a jest, his suit aside, And with one voice they thus replied: "O mighty Wind, free spirit who All life pervadest, through and through, Thy wondrous power we maidens know; Then wherefore wilt thou mock us so? Our sire is Kusanabha, King; And we, forsooth, have charms to bring A God to woo us from the skies; But honour first we maidens prize. Far may the hour, we pray, be hence, When we, O thou of little sense, Our truthful father's choice refuse, And for ourselves our husbands choose. Our honoured sire our lord we deem, He is to us a God supreme, And they to whom his high decree May give us shall our husbands be."

As thus the troubled hermits prayed, I promised, dame, my ready aid, And now--for truth I hold most dear-- Still to my word must I adhere. My love, I might endure to be Deprived of Lakshman, life, and thee, But ne'er deny my promise, ne'er To Brahmans break the oath I sware. I must, enforced by high constraint, Protect them all. Each suffering saint In me, unasked, his help had found; Still more in one by promise bound. I know thy words, mine own dear dame, From thy sweet heart's affection came: I thank thee for thy gentle speech, For those we love are those we teach. 'Tis like thyself, O fair of face, 'Tis worthy of thy noble race: Dearer than life, thy feet are set In righteous paths they ne'er forget."

He spoke, and Raghu's son who knew All sacred duties men should do. The friend of justice, void of guile, Thus answered with a gentle smile: "Great Vanar, friends who seek my aid Still find their trust with fruit repaid. Bali, thy foe, who stole away Thy wife this vengeful hand shall slay. These shafts which sunlike flash and burn, Winged with the feathers of the hern, Each swift of flight and sure and dread, With even knot and pointed head, Fierce as the crashing fire-bolt sent By him who rules the firmament,(555) Shall reach thy wicked foe and like Infuriate serpents hiss and strike. Thou, Vanar King, this day shalt see The foe who long has injured thee Lie, like a shattered mountain, low, Slain by the tempest of my bow."

He spoke, and Rama, just and brave, Whose pious soul to virtue clave, Smiled as in conscious might he eyed The king of Vanars, and replied: "Best fruit of friendship is the deed That helps the friend in hour of need; And this mine arm in death shall lay Thy robber ere the close of day. For see, these feathered darts of mine Whose points so fiercely flash and shine, And shafts with golden emblem, came From dark woods known by Skanda's name,(561) Winged from the pinion of the hern Like Indra's bolts they strike and burn. With even knots and piercing head Each like a furious snake is sped; With these, to-day, before thine eye Shall, like a shattered mountain, lie Bali, thy dread and wicked foe, O'erwhelmed in hideous overthrow."

On Rama's left Vibhishan view, With giants for his retinue: King-making drops have dewed his head, Appointed monarch in thy stead. Behold that chieftain sternly still, High towering like a rooted hill, Supreme in power and pride of place, The monarch of the Vanar race. Raised high above his woodland kind, In might and glory, frame and mind, His head above his host he shows Conspicuous as the Lord of Snows. His home is far from hostile eyes Where deep in woods Kishkindha lies. A glistering chain which flowers bedeck With burnished gold adorns his neck. Queen Fortune, loved by Gods and kings, To him her chosen favourite clings. That chain he owes to Rama's grace, And Tara and his kingly place. In him the great Sugriva know, Whom Rama rescued from his foe."(942)

Then Rama, as she spoke distressed, The feet of Saint Vasishtha pressed, Touched them with reverential love, Then near him took his seat: Thus Indra clasps in realms above The Heavenly Teacher's(380) feet. Then with each counsellor and peer, Bharat of duteous mind, With citizens and captains near, Sat humbly down behind. When with his hands to him upraised, In devotee's attire, Bharat upon his brother gazed Whose glory shone like fire, As when the pure Mahendra bends To the great Lord of Life, Among his noble crowd of friends This anxious thought was rife: "What words to Raghu's son to-day Will royal Bharat speak, Whose heart has been so prompt to pay Obeisance fond and meek?" Then steadfast Rama, Lakshman wise, Bharat for truth renowned, Shone like three fires that heavenward rise With holy priests around.

But Tara in the Vanar's hall Heard tidings of her husband's fall; Heard that a shaft from Rama's bow Had laid the royal Bali low. Her darling Angad by her side, Distracted from her home she hied. Then nigh the place of battle drew The Vanars, Angad's retinue. They saw the bow-armed Rama: dread Fell on them, and they turned and fled. Like helpless deer, their leaders slain, So wildly fled the startled train. But Tara saw, and nearer pressed, And thus the flying band addressed: "O Vanars, ye who ever stand About our king, a trusty band, Where is the lion master? why Forsake ye thus your lord and fly? Say, lies he dead upon the plain, A brother by a brother slain, Or pierced by shafts from Rama's bow That rain from far upon the foe?"

He ceased: and Bali sore distressed The sovereign claims of law confessed, And freed, o'erwhelmed with woe and shame, The lord of Raghu's race from blame. Then, reverent palm to palm applied, To Rama thus the Vanar cried: "True, best of men, is every word That from thy lips these ears have heard, It ill beseems a wretch like me To bandy empty words with thee. Forgive the angry taunts that broke From my wild bosom as I spoke. And lay not to my charge, O King, My mad reproaches' idle sting. Thou, in the truth by trial trained, Best knowledge of the right hast gained: And layest, just and pure within, The meetest penalty on sin. Through every bond of law I burst, The boldest sinner and the worst. O let thy right-instructing speech Console my heart and wisely teach."

Swift with an angry roar she smote With her huge hand the Vanar's throat. The smitten Vanar, rage-impelled, With fist upraised the monster felled: But quick repented, stirred with shame And pity for a vanquished dame, When with her senses troubled, weak With terror, thus she strove to speak: "O spare me thou whose arm is strong: O spare me, and forgive the wrong. The brave that law will ne'er transgress That spares a woman's helplessness. Hear, best of Vanars, brave and bold, What Brahma's self of yore foretold; "Beware," he said, "the fatal hour When thou shalt own a Vanar's power. Then is the giants' day of fear, For terror and defeat are near." Now, Vanar chief, o'ercome by thee, I own the truth of heaven's decree. For Sita's sake will ruin fall On Ravan, and his town, and all."

On Sarju's(62) bank, of ample size, The happy realm of Kosal lies, With fertile length of fair champaign And flocks and herds and wealth of grain. There, famous in her old renown, Ayodhya(63) stands, the royal town, In bygone ages built and planned By sainted Manu's(64) princely hand. Imperial seat! her walls extend Twelve measured leagues from end to end, And three in width from side to side, With square and palace beautified. Her gates at even distance stand; Her ample roads are wisely planned. Right glorious is her royal street Where streams allay the dust and heat. On level ground in even row Her houses rise in goodly show: Terrace and palace, arch and gate The queenly city decorate. High are her ramparts, strong and vast, By ways at even distance passed, With circling moat, both deep and wide, And store of weapons fortified.

Not e'en in dreams could mortal king Strain the great bow or draw the string. Of this tremendous bow possessed, My truthful father thus addressed The lords of many a region, all Assembled at the monarch's call: "Whoe'er this bow can manage, he The husband of my child shall be." The suitors viewed with hopeless eyes That wondrous bow of mountain size, Then to my sire they bade adieu, And all with humbled hearts withdrew. At length with Visvamitra came This son of Raghu, dear to fame, The royal sacrifice to view. Near to my father's home he drew, His brother Lakshman by his side, Rama, in deeds heroic tried. My sire with honour entertained The saint in lore of duty trained, Who thus in turn addressed the king: "Rama and Lakshman here who spring From royal Dasaratha, long To see thy bow so passing strong."

Go seek him sunk in bliss and sloth, Forgetful of his royal oath, And as mine envoy thus upbraid The monarch for his help delayed: "Vile is the wretch who will not pay The favour of an earlier day, Hope in the supplicant's breast awakes, And then his plighted promise breaks. Noblest, mid all of women born, Who keeps the words his lips have sworn, Yea, if those words be good or ill, Maintains his faith unbroken still. The thankless who forget to aid The friend who helped them when they prayed, Dishonoured in their death shall lie, And dogs shall pass their corpses by. Sure thou wouldst see my strained arm hold My bow of battle backed with gold, Wouldst gaze upon its awful form Like lightning flashing through the storm, And hear the clanging bowstring loud As thunder from a labouring cloud."

Still motionless, as lie the slain, The brothers pressed the bloody plain, No sigh they drew, no breath they heaved, And lay as though of life bereaved. Proud of the deed his art had done, To Lanka's town went Ravan's son, Where, as he passed, all fear was stilled, And every heart with triumph filled. Sugriva trembled as he viewed Each fallen prince with blood bedewed, And in his eyes which overflowed With tears the flame of anger glowed. "Calm," cried Vibhishan, "calm thy fears, And stay the torrent of thy tears. Still must the chance of battle change, And victory still delight to range. Our cause again will she befriend And bring us triumph in the end. This is not death: each prince will break The spell that holds him, and awake; Nor long shall numbing magic bind The mighty arm, the lofty mind."

As royal Bharat thus gave vent To bitter grief in wild lament, Gazing upon his face the crowd Of pitying women wept aloud. His lamentation scarce was o'er, When Saint Vasishtha, skilled in lore Of royal duty, dear to fame, To join the great assembly came. Girt by disciples ever true Still nearer to that hall he drew, Resplendent, heavenly to behold, Adorned with wealth of gems and gold: E'en so a man in duty tried Draws near to meet his virtuous bride. He reached his golden seat o'erlaid With coverlet of rich brocade, There sat, in all the Vedas read, And called the messengers, and said: "Go forth, let Brahman, Warrior, peer, And every captain gather here: Let all attentive hither throng: Go, hasten: we delay too long. Satrughna, glorious Bharat bring, The noble children of the king,(357) Yudhajit(358) and Sumantra, all The truthful and the virtuous call."

Obedient to his master's hest Quick from the cot he brought the vest; The hermit took it from his hand, And tightened round his waist the band; Then duly dipped and bathed him there, And muttered low his secret prayer. To spirits and to Gods he made Libation of the stream, and strayed Viewing the forest deep and wide That spread its shade on every side. Close by the bank he saw a pair Of curlews sporting fearless there. But suddenly with evil mind An outcast fowler stole behind, And, with an aim too sure and true, The male bird near the hermit slew. The wretched hen in wild despair With fluttering pinions beat the air, And shrieked a long and bitter cry When low on earth she saw him lie, Her loved companion, quivering, dead, His dear wings with his lifeblood red; And for her golden crested mate She mourned, and was disconsolate.

Sumantra of the noble mind, Gentle and modest, meek and kind, Who, follower of each princely youth, To Rama clung with constant truth, Now with the royal brothers' aid The grief of Rama soothed and stayed, And lent his arm his lord to guide Down to the river's holy side. That lovely stream the heroes found, With woods that ever blossomed crowned, And there in bitter sorrow bent Their footsteps down the fair descent. Then where the stream that swiftly flowed A pure pellucid shallow showed, The funeral drops they duly shed, And "Father, this be thine," they said. But he, the lord who ruled the land, Filled from the stream his hollowed hand, And turning to the southern side Stretched out his arm and weeping cried: "This sacred water clear and pure, An offering which shall aye endure To thee, O lord of kings, I give: Accept it where the spirits live!"

The sage his eyes on Rama bent, Of virtue's friends preeminent; Then words like these he spoke, and pressed The son of Raghu to his breast: "Welcome to thee, illustrious youth, Best champion of the rights of truth! By thine approach this holy ground A worthy lord this day has found. I could not quit this mortal frame Till thou shouldst come, O dear to fame: To heavenly spheres I would not rise, Expecting thee with eager eyes. I knew that thou, unkinged, hadst made Thy home in Chitrakuta's shade. E'en now, O Rama, Indra, lord Supreme by all the Gods adored, King of the Hundred Offerings,(421) said, When he my dwelling visited, That the good works that I have done My choice of all the worlds have won. Accept this meed of holy vows, And with thy brother and thy spouse, Roam, through my favour, in the sky Which saints celestial glorify."

To this, great chief, thy reason bend, And earnestly the truth perpend. By reason's aid the wisest learn The good and evil to discern. With sin and goodness scarcely known Faint light by chequered lives is shown; Without some clear undoubted deed We mark not how the fruits succeed. In time of old, O thou most brave, To me thy lips such counsel gave. Vrihaspati(512) can scarcely find New wisdom to instruct thy mind. For thine is wit and genius high Meet for the children of the sky. I rouse that heart benumbed by pain And call to vigorous life again. Be manly godlike vigour shown; Put forth that noblest strength, thine own. Strive, best of old Ikshvaku's strain, Strive till the conquered foe be slain. Where is the profit or the joy If thy fierce rage the worlds destroy? Search till thou find the guilty foe, Then let thy hand no mercy show."

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

From Rishyamuka's rugged side To Malaya's hill the Vanar hied, And to his royal chieftain there Announced the coming of the pair: "See, here with Lakshman Rama stands Illustrious in a hundred lands. Whose valiant heart will never quail Although a thousand foes assail; King Dasaratha's son, the grace And glory of Ikshvaku's race. Obedient to his father's will He cleaves to sacred duty still. With rites of royal pomp and pride His sire the Fire-God gratified; Ten hundred thousand kine he freed, And priests enriched with ample meed; And the broad land protected, famed For truthful lips and passions tamed. Through woman's guile his son has made His dwelling in the forest shade, Where, as he lived with every sense Subdued in hermit abstinence, Fierce Ravan stole his wife, and he Is come a suppliant, lord, to thee. Now let all honour due be paid To these great chiefs who seek thine aid."

"Whate'er a friend most wise and true, Who counsels for the best, should do, Whate'er his gentle part should be, Has been performed, dear friend, by thee. Taught by thy counsel, O my lord, I feel my native strength restored. A friend like thee is hard to gain, Most rare in time of grief and pain. Now strain thine utmost power to trace The Maithil lady's dwelling place, And aid me in my search to find Fierce Ravan of the impious mind. Trust thou, in turn, thy loyal friend, And say what aid this arm can lend To speed thy hopes, as fostering rain Quickens in earth the scattered grain. Deem not those words, that seemed to spring From pride, are false, O Vanar King. None from these lips has ever heard, None e'er shall hear, one lying word. Again I promise and declare, Yea, by my truth, dear friend, I swear."

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

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

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.

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."

The Vanar squadrons densely spread O'er all the country onward sped, While rising from the rapid beat Of bears' and monkeys' hastening feet. Dust hid the earth with thickest veil, And made the struggling sunbeams pale. Now where Mahendra's peaks arise Came Rama of the lotus eyes And the long arm's resistless might, And clomb the mountain's wood-crowned height. Thence Dasaratha's son beheld Where billowy Ocean rose and swelled, Past Malaya's peaks and Sahya's chain The Vanar legions reached the main, And stood in many a marshalled band On loud-resounding Ocean's strand. To the fair wood that fringed the tide Came Dasaratha's son, and cried: "At length, my lord Sugriva, we Have reached King Varun's realm the sea, And one great thought, still-vexing, how To cross the flood, awaits us now. The broad deep ocean, that denies A passage, stretched before us lies. Then let us halt and plan the while How best to storm the giant's isle."

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

The great Vasishtha, thus addressed, Arch-hermit of the holy breast, To Visvamitra answer made, The king whom all the land obeyed: "Not for a hundred thousand,--nay, Not if ten million thou wouldst pay, With silver heaps the price to swell,-- Will I my cow, O Monarch, sell. Unmeet for her is such a fate. That I my friend should alienate. As glory with the virtuous, she For ever makes her home with me. On her mine offerings which ascend To Gods and spirits all depend: My very life is due to her, My guardian, friend, and minister. The feeding of the sacred flame,(223) The dole which living creatures claim.(224) The mighty sacrifice by fire, Each formula the rites require,(225) And various saving lore beside, Are by her aid, in sooth, supplied. The banquet which thy host has shared, Believe it, was by her prepared, In her mine only treasures lie, She cheers mine heart and charms mine eye. And reasons more could I assign Why Dapple-skin can ne'er be thine."

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

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

Then Nila from his bosom drew The fatal shaft that pierced him through, Like some tremendous serpent deep In caverns of a hill asleep. As from the hero's wound it came, Shot from the shaft a gleam of flame, Like the last flashes of the sun Descending when his course is run. From the wide rent in crimson flood Rushed the full stream of Bali's blood, Like torrents down a mountain's side With golden ore and copper dyed. Then Tara brushed with tender care The dust of battle from his hair, While her sad eyes poured down their rain Upon her lord untimely slain. Once more she looked upon the dead; Then to her bright-eyed child she said: "Turn hither, turn thy weeping eyes Where low in death thy father lies. By sinful deed and bitter hate Our lord has met his mournful fate. Bright as the sun at early morn To Yama's halls is Bali borne. Then go, my child, salute the king, From whom our bliss and honour spring."

The saints, by Visvamitra led, To Rama thus in answer said: "Janak the king who rules the land Of fertile Mithila has planned A noble sacrifice, and we Will thither go the rite to see. Thou, Prince of men, with us shalt go, And there behold the wondrous bow, Terrific, vast, of matchless might, Which, splendid at the famous rite, The Gods assembled gave the king. No giant, fiend, or God can string That gem of bows, no heavenly bard: Then, sure, for man the task were hard. When lords of earth have longed to know The virtue of that wondrous bow, The strongest sons of kings in vain Have tried the mighty cord to strain. This famous bow thou there shalt view, And wondrous rites shalt witness too. The high-souled king who lords it o'er The realm of Mithila of yore Gained from the Gods this bow, the price Of his imperial sacrifice. Won by the rite the glorious prize Still in the royal palace lies, Laid up in oil of precious scent With aloe-wood and incense blent."

Whate'er, by duty won, the meed Of saints whom roots and berries feed, One fourth thereof, for tender care Of subjects, is the monarch's share. These, mostly of the Brahman race, Who make the wood their dwelling-place, Although a friend in thee they view, Fall friendless neath the giant crew. Come, Rama, come, and see hard by The holy hermits' corpses lie, Where many a tangled pathway shows The murderous work of cruel foes. These wicked fiends the hermits kill-- Who live on Chitrakuta's hill, And blood of slaughtered saints has dyed Mandakini and Pampa's side. No longer can we bear to see The death of saint and devotee Whom through the forest day by day These Rakshasas unpitying slay. To thee, O Prince, we flee, and crave Thy guardian help our lives to save. From these fierce rovers of the night Defend each stricken anchorite. Throughout the world 'twere vain to seek An arm like thine to aid the weak. O Prince, we pray thee hear our call, And from these fiends preserve us all."

Bright flashed her eye as Lakshman spoke And forth her words of fury broke Upon her truthful guardian, flung With bitter taunts that pierced and stung: "Shame on such false compassion, base Defiler of thy glorious race! 'Twere joyous sight I ween to thee My lord in direst strait to see. Thou knowest Rama sore bested, Or word like this thou ne'er hadst said. No marvel if we find such sin In rivals false to kith and kin. Wretches like thee of evil kind, Concealing crime with crafty mind. Thou, wretch, thine aid wilt still deny, And leave my lord alone to die. Has love of me unnerved thy hand, Or Bharat's art this ruin planned? But be the treachery his or thine, In vain, in vain the base design. For how shall I, the chosen bride Of dark-hued Rama, lotus-eyed, The queen who once called Rama mine, To love of other men decline? Believe me, Lakshman, Rama's wife Before thine eyes will quit this life, And not a moment will she stay If her dear lord have passed away."

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

"Thy speech is marked with scorn of truth, With rashness and the pride of youth. Yea, to thy ruin like a child Thou pratest, and thy words are wild. Most dear, O Indrajit, to thee Should Ravan's weal and safety be, For thou art called his son, but thou Art proved his direst foeman now, When warned by me thou hast not tried To turn the coming woe aside. Both thee and him 'twere meet to slay, Who brought thee to this hall to-day, And dared so rash a youth admit To council where the wisest sit. Presumptuous, wild, devoid of sense, Filled full of pride and insolence, Thy reckless tongue thou wilt not rule That speaks the counsel of a fool. Who in the fight may brook or shun The arrows shot by Raghu's son With flame and fiery vengeance sped, Dire as his staff who rules the dead? O Ravan, let thy people live, And to the son of Raghu give Fair robes and gems and precious ore, And Sita to his arms restore."

Thus Tara questioned, and was still: Then, wearers of each shape at will, The Vanars thus with one accord Answered the Lady of their lord: "Turn, Tara turn, and half undone Save Angad thy beloved son. There Rama stands in death's disguise, And conquered Bali faints and dies. He by whose strong arm, thick and fast, Uprooted trees and rocks were cast, Lies smitten by a shaft that came Resistless as the lightning flame. When he, whose splendour once could vie With Indra's, regent of the sky, Fell by that deadly arrow, all The Vanars fled who marked his fall. Let all our chiefs their succours bring, And Angad be anointed king; For all who come of Vanar race Will serve him set in Bali's place. Or else our conquering foes to-day Within our wall will force their way, Polluting with their hostile feet The chambers of thy loved retreat. Great fear is on us, all and one. Those who have wives and who have none, They lust for power, are fierce and bold, Or hate us for the strife of old."

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

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

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