Ramayana on Wealth

The Brahman heard. In eager haste He bound his cloth around his waist. Then round his head his staff he whirled, And forth with mightiest effort hurled. Cast from his hand it flew, and sank To earth on Sarju's farther bank, Where herds of kine in thousands fed Near to the well-stocked bullock shed. And all the cows that wandered o'er The meadow, far as Sarju's shore, At Rama's word the herdsmen drove To Trijat's cottage in the grove. He drew the Brahman to his breast, And thus with calming words addressed: "Now be not angry, Sire. I pray: This jest of mine was meant in play. These thousand kine, but not alone. Their herdsmen too, are all thine own. And wealth beside I give thee: speak, Thine shall be all thy heart can seek."

He spoke, and reverent Lakshman heard Submissive to his brother's word. The son of Raghu, virtuous-souled, Strung his great bow adorned with gold, And, with the weapon in his hand, Addressed him to the giant band: "Rama and Lakshman we, who spring From Dasaratha, mighty king; We dwell a while with Sita here In Dandak forest wild and drear. On woodland roots and fruit we feed, And lives of strictest rule we lead. Say why would ye our lives oppress Who sojourn in the wilderness. Sent hither by the hermits' prayer With bow and darts unused to spare, For vengeance am I come to slay Your sinful band in battle fray. Rest as ye are: remain content, Nor try the battle's dire event. Unless your offered lives ye spurn, O rovers of the night, return."

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)

"Best is that chief of all who know With deftest art to draw the bow. His are strange arms of heavenly might, And none can match him in the fight. His brother Lakshman brave as he, Fair as the rounded moon to see, With eyes like night and voice that comes Deep as the roll of beaten drums, By Rama's side stands ever near, Like wind that aids the flame's career. That glorious chief, that prince of kings, On Janasthan this ruin brings. No Gods were there,--dismiss the thought No heavenly legions came and fought. His swift-winged arrows Rama sent, Each bright with gold and ornament. To serpents many-faced they turned: The giant hosts they ate and burned. Where'er these fled in wild dismay Rama was there to strike and slay. By him O King of high estate, Is Janasthan left desolate."

The champion heard, and, well content, Forth from the hall his footsteps bent. He grasped his spear, the foeman's dread, Black iron all, both shaft and head, Which, dyed in many a battle, bore Great spots of slaughtered victims' gore. The king upon his neck had thrown The jewelled chain which graced his own. And garlands of delicious scent About his limbs for ornament. Around his arms gay bracelets clung, And pendants in his ears were hung. Adorned with gold, about his waist His coat of mail was firmly braced, And like Narayan(975) or the God Who rules the sky he proudly trod. Behind him went a mighty throng Of giant warriors tall and strong, On elephants of noblest breeds. With cars, with camels, and with steeds: And, armed with spear and axe and sword Were fain to battle for their lord.(976)

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.

Ah no, my love is surely dead, Fierce giants on her flesh have fed, Rending the soft limbs of their prey When I her lord was far away. That moon-bright face, that polished brow, Red lips, bright teeth--what are they now? Alas, my darling's shapely neck She loved with chains of gold to deck,-- That neck that mocked the sandal scent, The ruthless fiends have grasped and rent. Alas, 'twas vain those arms to raise Soft as the young tree's tender sprays. Ah, dainty meal for giants' lips Were arms and quivering finger tips. Ah, she who counted many a friend Was left for fiends to seize and rend, Was left by me without defence From ravening giants' violence. O Lakshman of the arm of might, Say, is my darling love in sight? O dearest Sita. where art thou? Where is my darling consort now?"

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."

His hands in reverence Rama raised And southward o'er the ocean gazed; Then on the sacred grass that made His lowly couch his limbs he laid. His head on that strong arm reclined Which Sita, best of womankind, Had loved in happier days to hold With soft arms decked with pearls and gold. Then rising from his bed of grass, "This day," he cried, "the host shall pass Triumphant to the southern shore, Or Ocean's self shall be no more." Thus vowing in his constant breast Again he turned him to his rest, And there, his eyes in slumber closed, Silent beside the sea reposed. Thrice rose the Day-God thrice he set, The lord of Ocean came not yet, Thrice came the night, but Raghu's son No answer by his service won. To Lakshman thus the hero cried, His eyes aflame with wrath and pride:

From him no harsh or bitter word To pain one creature have I heard, And how can I my son address, For thee, with words of bitterness? Have mercy, Queen: some pity show To see my tears of anguish flow, And listen to my mournful cry, A poor old man who soon must die. Whate'er this sea-girt land can boast Of rich and rare from coast to coast, To thee, my Queen, I give it all: But O, thy deadly words recall: O see, my suppliant hands entreat, Again my lips are on thy feet: Save Rama, save my darling child, Nor kill me with this sin defiled." He grovelled on the ground, and lay To burning grief a senseless prey, And ever and anon, assailed By floods of woe he wept and wailed, Striving with eager speed to gain The margent of his sea of pain.

To him Mahesvar thus replied: "O strong-armed hero, lotus-eyed, Thou, best of those who love the right, Hast nobly fought the wondrous fight. Dispelled by thee the doom that spread Through trembling earth and heaven is fled. The worlds exult in light and bliss, And praise thy name, O chief, for this. Now peace to Bharat's heart restore, And bid Kausalya weep no more. Thy face let Queen Kaikeyi see, Let fond Sumitra gaze on thee. The longing of thy friends relieve, The kingdom of thy sires receive. Let sons of gentle Sita born Ikshvaku's ancient line adorn. Then from all care and foemen freed Perform the offering of the steed. In pious gifts thy wealth expend, Then to the home of Gods ascend, Thy sire, this glorious king, behold, Among the blest in heaven enrolled. He comes from where the Immortals dwell: Salute him, for he loves thee well."

Again, again Sumantra made His varied plaint, and wept and prayed. Him Raghu's son, whose tender breast Felt for his servants, thus addressed: "O faithful servant, well my heart Knows how attached and true thou art. Hear thou the words I speak, and know Why to the town I bid thee go. Soon as Kaikeyi, youngest queen, Thy coming to the town has seen, No doubt will then her mind oppress That Rama roams the wilderness. And so the dame, her heart content With proof of Rama's banishment, Will doubt the virtuous king no more As faithless to the oath he swore. Chief of my cares is this, that she, Youngest amid the queens, may see Bharat her son securely reign O'er rich Ayodhya's wide domain. For mine and for the monarch's sake Do thou thy journey homeward take, And, as I bade, repeat each word That from my lips thou here hast heard."

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

Then Rama to his bosom drew Dear Bharat and Satrughna too: "Be never wroth," he cried, "with her, Kaikeyi's guardian minister: This, glory of Ikshvaku's line, Is Sita's earnest prayer and mine." He spoke, and as the big tears fell, To his dear brother bade farewell. Round Rama, Bharat strong and bold In humble reverence paced, When the bright sandals wrought with gold Above his brows were placed. The royal elephant who led The glorious pomp he found, And on the monster's mighty head Those sandals duly bound. Then noble Rama, born to swell The glories of his race, To all in order bade farewell With love and tender grace-- To brothers, counsellers, and peers,-- Still firm, in duty proved, Firm, as the Lord of Snow uprears His mountains unremoved. No queen, for choking sobs and sighs, Could say her last adieu: Then Rama bowed, with flooded eyes, And to his cot withdrew.

"Thy rights, O Ravan, I allow: My brother and mine elder thou. Such, though from duty's path they stray, We love like fathers and obey, But still too bitter to be borne Is thy harsh speech of cruel scorn. The rash like thee, who spurn control, Nor check one longing of the soul, Urged by malignant fate repel The faithful friend who counsels well. A thousand courtiers wilt thou meet, With flattering lips of smooth deceit: But rare are they whose tongue or ear Will speak the bitter truth, or hear. Unclose thy blinded eyes and see That snares of death encompass thee. I dread, my brother, to behold The shafts of Rama, bright with gold, Flash fury through the air, and red With fires of vengeance strike thee dead. Lord, brother, King, again reflect, Nor this mine earnest prayer reject, O, save thyself, thy royal town, Thy people and thine old renown."

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.

Think not of wretched Rama: he Is less than nothing now to thee. Stript of his glory, poor, dethroned, A wanderer by his friends disowned, On the cold earth he lays his head, Or is with toil and misery dead. And if perchance he lingers yet, His eyes on thee shall ne'er be set. Could he, that mighty monarch, who Was named Hiranyakasipu, Could he who wore the garb of gold Win Glory back from Indra's hold?(831) O lady of the lovely smile, Whose eyes the sternest heart beguile, In all thy radiant beauty dressed My heart and soul thou ravishest. What though thy robe is soiled and worn, And no bright gems thy limbs adorn, Thou unadorned art dearer far Than all my loveliest consorts are. My royal home is bright and fair; A thousand beauties meet me there, But come, my glorious love, and be The queen of all those dames and me."

The chief whose soul to virtue clave This answer to the hermit gave: "I prayed him with our holy guide: But Raghu's son our prayer denied, And long besought by both of us He answered Saint Vasishtha thus: "True to my vow, I still will be Observant of my sire's decree: Till fourteen years complete their course That promise shall remain in force." The saint in highest wisdom taught, These solemn words with wisdom fraught, To him in lore of language learned Most eloquent himself returned: "Obey my rede: let Bharat hold This pair of sandals decked with gold: They in Ayodhya shall ensure Our welfare, and our bliss secure." When Rama heard the royal priest He rose, and looking to the east Consigned the sandals to my hand That they for him might guard the land. Then from the high-souled chief's abode I turned upon my homeward road, Dismissed by him, and now this pair Of sandals to Ayodhya bear."

In horns from forehead of the bull, In pitchers bright and beautiful, In urns of gold the Vanara took Pure water brought from stream and brook, From every consecrated strand And every sea that beats the land. Then, as prescribed by sacred lore And many a mighty sage of yore,(615) The leaders of the Vanars poured The sacred water on their lord.(616) From every Vanar at the close Of that imperial rite arose Shouts of glad triumph, loud and long Repeated by the high-souled throng. Sugriva, when the rite was done, Obeyed the hest of Raghu's son, Prince Angad to his breast he strained, And partner of his sway ordained. Once more from all the host rang out The loud huzza and jovful shout. "Well done! well done!" each Vanar cried, And good Sugriva glorified. Then with glad voices loudly raised Were Rama and his brother praised; And bright Kishkindha shone that day With happy throngs and banners gay.

He spoke, and to Videha's king Thus Dasaratha, answering: "Boundless your virtues, lords, whose sway The realms of Mithila obey. With honouring care you entertain. Both holy sage and royal train. Now to my house my steps I bend-- May blessings still on you at end-- Due offerings to the shades to pay." Thus spoke the king, and turned away: To Janak first he bade adieu, Then followed fast those holy two. The monarch reached his palace where The rites were paid with solemn care. When the next sun began to shine He rose and made his gift of kine. A hundred thousand cows prepared For each young prince the Brahmans shared. Each had her horns adorned with gold; And duly was the number told, Four hundred thousand perfect tale: Each brought a calf, each filled a pail. And when that glorious task was o'er, The monarch with his children four, Showed like the Lord of Life divine When the worlds' guardians round him shine.

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."

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 was welcomed in, and shown A seat beside the hermit's own, Who offered him, when resting there, Fruit in due course, and woodland fare. And Visvamitra, noblest king, Received Vasishtha's welcoming, Turned to his host, and prayed him tell That he and all with him were well. Vasishtha to the king replied That all was well on every side, That fire, and vows, and pupils throve, And all the trees within the grove. And then the son of Brahma, best Of all who pray with voice suppressed, Questioned with pleasant words like these The mighty king who sate at ease: "And is it well with thee? I pray; And dost thou win by virtuous sway Thy people's love, discharging all The duties on a king that fall? Are all thy servants fostered well? Do all obey, and none rebel? Hast thou, destroyer of the foe, No enemies to overthrow? Does fortune, conqueror! still attend Thy treasure, host, and every friend? Is it all well? Does happy fate On sons and children's children wait?"

Sumantra, sad and all dismayed, The chieftain's order swift obeyed. Within the palace doors he hied And saw the king, who wept and sighed. Like the great sun when wrapped in shade Like fire by ashes overlaid, Or like a pool with waters dried, So lay the world's great lord and pride, A while the wise Sumantra gazed On him whose senses woe has dazed, Grieving for Rama. Near he drew With hands upraised in reverence due. With blessing first his king he hailed; Then with a voice that well-nigh failed, In trembling accents soft and low Addressed the monarch in his woe: "The prince of men, thy Rama, waits Before thee at the palace gates. His wealth to Brahmans he has dealt, And all who in his home have dwelt. Admit thy son. His friends have heard His kind farewell and parting word, He longs to see thee first, and then Will seek the wilds, O King of men. He, with each princely virtue's blaze, Shines as the sun engirt by rays."

The tenth day passed: the prince again Was free from every legal stain. He bade them on the twelfth the great Remaining honour celebrate. Much gold he gave, and gems, and food, To all the Brahman multitude, And goats whose hair was white and fine, And many a thousand head of kine: Slaves, men and damsels, he bestowed, And many a car and fair abode: Such gifts he gave the Brahman race His father's obsequies to grace. Then when the morning's earliest ray Appeared upon the thirteenth day, Again the hero wept and sighed Distraught and sorrow-stupefied; Drew, sobbing in his anguish, near, The last remaining debt to clear, And at the bottom of the pyre, He thus bespake his royal sire: "O father, hast thou left me so, Deserted in my friendless woe, When he to whom the charge was given To keep me, to the wood is driven? Her only son is forced away Who was his helpless mother's stay: Ah, whither, father, art thou fled; Leaving the queen uncomforted?"

Each Vanar councillor and peer In crowded numbers gathered near Sugriva, mournful king, while yet His vesture from the wave was wet, Before the chief of Raghu's seed Unwearied in each arduous deed, They stood and raised the reverent hand As saints before Lord Brahma stand. Then Hanuman of massive mould, Like some tall hill of glistering gold, Son of the God whose wild blasts shake The forest, thus to Rama spake: "By thy kind favour, O my lord, Sugriva, to his home restored Triumphant, has regained to-day His rank and power and royal sway. He now will call each faithful friend, Enter the city, and attend With sage advice and prudent care To every task that waits him there. Then balm and unguent shall anoint Our monarch, as the laws appoint, And gems and precious wreaths shall be His grateful offering, King, to thee. Do thou, O Rama, with thy friend Thy steps within the city bend; Our ruler on his throne install, And with thy presence cheer us all."

"Thy lord his days in pleasure spends, Heedless of duty and of friends, Nor dost thou mark, though fondly true, The evil path his steps pursue. He cares not for affairs of state, Nor us forlorn and desolate, But sits a mere spectator still, A sensual slave to pleasure's will. Four months were fixed, the time agreed When he should help us in our need: But, bound in toils of pleasure fast, He sees not that the months are past. Where beats the heart which draughts of wine To virtue or to gain incline? Hast thou not heard those draughts destroy Virtue and gain and love and joy? For those who, helped at need, refuse Their aid in turn, their virtue lose: And they who scorn a friend disdain A treasure naught may buy again. Thy lord has cast his friend away, Nor feared from virtue's path to stray, If this be true, declare, O dame Who knowest duty's every claim, What further work remains for us Deceived and disappointed thus."

Thus spoke the Self-existent Sire: Then swiftly from the blazing pyre The circling flames were backward rolled, And, raising in his gentle hold Alive unharmed the Maithil dame, The Lord of Fire embodied came. Fair as the morning was her sheen, And gold and gems adorned the queen. Her form in crimson robes arrayed, Her hair was bound in glossy braid. Her wreath was fresh and sweet of scent, Undimmed was every ornament. Then, standing close to Rama'a side, The universal witness cried: "From every blot and blemish free Thy faithful queen returns to thee. In word or deed, in look or mind Her heart from thee has ne'er declined. By force the giant bore away From thy lone cot his helpless prey; And in his bowers securely kept She still has longed for thee and wept. With soft temptation, bribe and threat, He bade the dame her love forget: But, nobly faithful to her lord, Her soul the giant's suit abhorred. Receive, O King, thy queen again, Pure, ever pure from spot and stain."

"One day," Vibhishan cried, "one day Shall bear thee o'er that length of way. Is not the wondrous chariot mine, Named Pushpak, wrought by hands divine. The prize which Ravan seized of old Victorious o'er the God of Gold? This chariot, kept with utmost care, Will waft thee through the fields of air, And thou shalt light unwearied down In fair Ayodhya's royal town. But yet if aught that I have done Has pleased thee well, O Raghu's son; If still thou carest for thy friend, Some little time in Lanka spend; There after toil of battle rest Within my halls an honoured guest." Again the son of Raghu spake: "Thy life was perilled for my sake. Thy counsel gave me priceless aid: All honours have been richly paid. Scarce can my love refuse, O best Of giant kind, thy last request. But still I yearn once more to see My home and all most dear to me; Nor can I brook one hour's delay: Forgive me, speed me on my way."

When Rama's speech had found a close, Brave Lakshman, terror of his foes, With wise and soothing words addressed Sugriva still with woe oppressed: "Arise Sugriva," thus he said, "Perform the service of the dead. Prepare with Tara and her son That Bali's rites be duly done. A store of funeral wood provide Which wind and sun and time have dried And richest sandal fit to grace The pyre of one of royal race. With words of comfort soft and kind Console poor Angad's troubled mind, Nor let thy heart be thus cast down, For thine is now the Vanars' town. Let Angad's care a wreath supply, And raiment rich with varied dye, And oil and perfumes for the fire, And all the solemn rites require. Go, hasten to the town, O King, And Tara's little quickly bring. A virtue is despatch: and speed Is best of all in hour of need. Go, let a chosen band prepare The litter of the dead to bear. For stout and tall and strong of limb Must be the chiefs who carry him."

They bent their airy course afar Along the paths of bird and star, And sped through ether farther yet Where Vishnu's splendid sphere is set.(646) By sea, on hill, by wood and lake They called to arms for Rama's sake, As each with terror in his breast Obeyed his awful king's behest. Three million Vanars, fierce and strong As Anjan's self, a wondrous throng Sped from the spot where Rama still Gazed restless from the woody hill. Ten million others, brave and bold, With coats that shone like burning gold, Came flying from the mountain crest Where sinks the weary sun to rest. Impetuous from the northern skies, Where Mount Kailasa's summits rise, Ten hundred millions hasted, hued Like manes of lions, ne'er subdued: The dwellers on Himalaya's side, Whose food his roots and fruit supplied, With rangers of the Vindhyan chain And neighbours of the Milky Main.(647) Some from the palm groves where they fed, Some from the woods of betel sped: In countless numbers, fierce and brave, They came from mountain, lake, and cave.

Meanwhile the rushing wind grew loud, Red lightnings flashed from banks of cloud. The mountains shook, the wild waves rose, And smitten with resistless blows Unrooted fell each stately tree That fringed the margin of the sea. All life within the waters feared Then, as the Vanars gazed, appeared King Garud's self, a wondrous sight, Disclosed in flames of fiery light. From his fierce eye in sudden dread All serpents in a moment fled. And those transformed to shaft that bound The princes vanished in the ground. On Raghu's sons his eyes he bent, And hailed the lords armipotent. Then o'er them stooped the feathered king, And touched their faces with his wing. His healing touch their pangs allayed, And closed each rent the shafts had made. Again their eyes were bright and bold, Again the smooth skin shone like gold. Again within their shell enshrined Came memory and each power of mind: And, from those numbing bonds released, Their spirit, zeal, and strength increased. Firm on their feet they stood, and then Thus Rama spake, the lord of men:

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)

As Lakshman still his vigil held By unaffected love impelled, Guha, whose heart the sight distressed, With words like these the prince addressed: "Beloved youth, this pleasant bed Was brought for thee, for thee is spread; On this, my Prince, thine eyelids close, And heal fatigue with sweet repose. My men are all to labour trained, But hardship thou hast ne'er sustained. All we this night our watch will keep And guard Kakutstha's son asleep. In all the world there breathes not one More dear to me than Raghu's son. The words I speak, heroic youth, Are true: I swear it by my truth. Through his dear grace supreme renown Will, so I trust, my wishes crown. So shall my life rich store obtain Of merit, blest with joy and gain. While Raghu's son and Sita lie Entranced in happy slumber, I Will, with my trusty bow in hand, Guard my dear friend with all my band. To me, who oft these forests range, Is naught therein or new or strange. We could with equal might oppose A four-fold army led by foes."

He heard the words Vasishtha spoke, And slumbering resolution woke. Then skilled in all the laws declare, He bade his friends the rites prepare. They raised the body from the oil, And placed it, dripping, on the soil; Then laid it on a bed, whereon Wrought gold and precious jewels shone. There, pallor o'er his features spread, The monarch, as in sleep, lay dead. Then Bharat sought his father's side, And lifted up his voice and cried: "O King, and has thy heart designed To part and leave thy son behind? Make Rama flee, who loves the right, And Lakshman of the arm of might? Whither, great Monarch, wilt thou go And leave this people in their woe, Mourning their hero, wild with grief, Of Rama reft, their lion chief? Ah, who will guard the people well Who in Ayodhya's city dwell, When thou, my sire, hast sought the sky, And Rama has been forced to fly? In widowed woe, bereft of thee, The land no more is fair to see: The city, to my aching sight, Is gloomy as a moonless night."

"Nay, through thy might each queen will share Attentive Bharat's love and care, Should Bharat, raised as king to sway This noblest realm, his trust betray, Nor for their safety well provide, Seduced by ill-suggesting pride, Doubt not my vengeful hand shall kill The cruel wretch who counsels ill-- Kill him and all who lend him aid, And the three worlds in league arrayed. And good Kausalya well can fee A thousand champions like to me. A thousand hamlets rich in grain The station of that queen maintain. She may, and my dear mother too, Live on the ample revenue. Then let me follow thee: herein: Is naught that may resemble sin. So shall I in my wish succeed, And aid, perhaps, my brother's need. My bow and quiver well supplied With arrows hanging at my side, My hands shall spade and basket bear, And for thy feet the way prepare. I'll bring thee roots and berries sweet. And woodland fare which hermits eat. Thou shall with thy Videhan spouse Recline upon the mountain's brows; Be mine the toil, be mine to keep Watch o'er thee waking or asleep."

Thus charged, O slayer of thy foes, The cow from whom all plenty flows, Obedient to her saintly lord, Viands to suit each taste, outpoured. Honey she gave, and roasted grain, Mead sweet with flowers, and sugar-cane. Each beverage of flavour rare, An food of every sort, were there: Hills of hot rice, and sweetened cakes, And curdled milk and soup in lakes. Vast beakers foaming to the brim With sugared drink prepared for him, And dainty sweetmeats, deftly made, Before the hermit's guests were laid. So well regaled, so nobly fed, The mighty army banqueted, And all the train, from chief to least, Delighted in Vasishtha's feast. Then Visvamitra, royal sage, Surrounded by his vassalage, Prince, peer, and counsellor, and all From highest lord to lowest thrall, Thus feasted, to Vasishtha cried With joy, supremely gratified: "Rich honour I, thus entertained, Most honourable lord, have gained: Now hear, before I journey hence, My words, O skilled in eloquence. Bought for a hundred thousand kine, Let Dapple-skin, O Saint, be mine. A wondrous jewel is thy cow, And gems are for the monarch's brow.(222) To me her rightful lord resign This Dapple-skin thou callest thine."

Thus Rama spoke. Sugriva hied Within the mountain's caverned side, Impelled by love that stirred each thought The precious tokens quickly brought, And said to Raghu's son: Behold This garment and these rings of gold. In Rama's hand with friendly haste The jewels and the robe he placed. Then, like the moon by mist assailed, The tear-dimmed eyes of Rama failed; That burst of woe unmanned his frame, Woe sprung from passion for his dame, And with his manly strength o'erthrown, He fell and cried, Ah me! mine own! Again, again close to his breast The ornaments and robe he pressed, While the quick pants that shook his frame As from a furious serpent came. On his dear brother standing nigh He turned at length his piteous eye; And, while his tears increasing ran, In bitter wail he thus began: "Look, brother, and behold once more The ornaments and robe she wore, Dropped while the giant bore away In cruel arras his struggling prey, Dropped in some quiet spot, I ween, Where the young grass was soft and green; For still untouched by spot or stain Their former beauty all retain."

With serpent's pantings fierce and fast King Bali from the city passed. His glance, as each quick breath he drew, Around to find the foe he threw, And saw where fierce Sugriva showed His form with golden hues that glowed, And, as a fire resplendent, stayed To meet his foe in arms arrayed. When Bali, long-armed chieftain, found Sugriva stationed on the ground, Impelled by warlike rage he braced His warrior garb about his waist, And with his mighty arm raised high Rushed at Sugriva with a cry. But when Sugriva, fierce and bold, Saw Bali with his chain of gold, His arm he heaved, his hand he closed, And face to face his foe opposed. To him whose eyes with fury shone, In charge impetuous rushing on, Skilled in each warlike art and plan, Bali with hasty words began: "My ponderous hand, to fight addressed With fingers clenched and arm compressed Shall on thy death doomed brow descend And, crashing down, thy life shall end." He spoke; and wild with rage and pride, The fierce Sugriva thus replied: "Thus let my arm begin the strife And from thy body crush the life."

Then Tara: "Art thou stern and mute, Regardless of thy child's salute? Hast thou no blessing for thy son, No word for little Angad, none? O, hero, at thy lifeless feet Here with my boy I take my seat, As some sad mother of the herd, By the fierce lion undeterred, Lies moaning by the grassy dell Wherein her lord and leader fell. How, having wrought that awful rite, The sacrifice of deadly fight, Wherein the shaft by Rama sped Supplied the place of water shed, How hast thou bathed thee at the end Without thy wife her aid to lend?(609) Why do mine eyes no more behold Thy bright beloved chain of gold, Which, pleased with thee, the Immortals' King About thy neck vouchsafed to fling? Still lingering on thy lifeless face I see the pride of royal race: Thus when the sun has set, his glow Still rests upon the Lord of Snow. Alas my hero! undeterred Thou wouldst not listen to my word. With tears and prayers I sued in vain: Thou wouldst not listen, and art slain. Gone is my bliss, my glory: I And Angad now with thee will die."

"Now giants, if your eyes have scanned Our armies, numbering every band, Marked lord and chief, and gazed their fill, Return to Ravan when ye will. If aught remain, if aught anew Ye fain would scan with closer view, Vibhishan, ready at your call, Will lead you forth and show you all. Think not of bonds and capture; fear No loss of life, no peril here: For, captive, helpless and unarmed, An envoy never should be harmed. Again to Lanka's town repair, Speed to the giant monarch there, And be these words to Ravan told, Fierce brother of the Lord of Gold: "Now, tyrant, tremble for thy sin: Call up thy friends, thy kith and kin, And let the power and might be seen Which made thee bold to steal my queen. To-morrow shall thy mournful eye Behold thy bravest warriors die, And Lanka's city, tower and wall, Struck by my fiery shafts, will fall. Then shall my vengeful blow descend Its rage on thee and thine to spend, Fierce as the fiery bolt that flew From heaven against the Danav crew, Mid those rebellious demons sent By him who rules the firmament."

As Queen Kaikeyi thus obeyed The sinful counsel of her maid She sank upon the chamber floor, As sinks in anguish, wounded sore, An elephant beneath the smart Of the wild hunter's venomed dart. The lovely lady in her mind Revolved the plot her maid designed, And prompt the gain and risk to scan She step by step approved the plan. Misguided by the hump-back's guile She pondered her resolve awhile, As the fair path that bliss secured The miserable lady lured, Devoted to her queen, and swayed By hopes of gain and bliss, the maid Rejoiced, her lady's purpose known, And deemed the prize she sought her own. Then bent upon her purpose dire, Kaikeyi with her soul on fire, Upon the floor lay, languid, down, Her brows contracted in a frown. The bright-hued wreath that bound her hair, Chains, necklets, jewels rich and rare, Stripped off by her own fingers lay Spread on the ground in disarray, And to the floor a lustre lent As stars light up the firmament. Thus prostrate in the mourner's cell, In garb of woe the lady fell, Her long hair in a single braid, Like some fair nymph of heaven dismayed.(272)

He cleared the barrier at a bound; He stood within the pleasant ground, And with delighted eyes surveyed The climbing plants and varied shade, He saw unnumbered trees unfold The treasures of their pendent gold, As, searching for the Maithil queen, He strayed through alleys soft and green; And when a spray he bent or broke Some little bird that slept awoke. Whene'er the breeze of morning blew, Where'er a startled peacock flew, The gaily coloured branches shed Their flowery rain upon his head That clung around the Vanar till He seemed a blossom-covered hill,(822) The earth, on whose fair bosom lay The flowers that fell from every spray, Was glorious as a lovely maid In all her brightest robes arrayed, He saw the breath of morning shake The lilies on the rippling lake Whose waves a pleasant lapping made On crystal steps with gems inlaid. Then roaming through the enchanted ground, A pleasant hill the Vanar found, And grottoes in the living stone With grass and flowery trees o'ergrown. Through rocks and boughs a brawling rill Leapt from the bosom of the hill, Like a proud beauty when she flies From her love's arms with angry eyes.

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

The joyous king his sons embraced, With gold and chains and jewels graced, And sent them forth with stirring speech Of benison and praise to each. Forth from the gate the princes sped And ranged for war the troops they led. The Vanar legions charged anew, And trees and rocks for missiles flew. They saw Narantak's mighty form Borne on a steed that mocked the storm. To check his charge in vain they strove: Straight through their host his way he clove, As springs a dolphin through the tide: And countless Vanars fell and died, And mangled limbs and corpses lay To mark the chief's ensanguined way, Sugriva saw them fall or fly When fierce Narantak's steed was nigh, And marked the giant where he sped O'er heaps of dying or of dead. He bade the royal Angad face That bravest chief of giant race. As springs the sun from clouds dispersed, So Angad from the Vanars burst. No weapon for the fight he bore Save nails and teeth, and sought no more. "Leave, giant chieftain," thus he spoke, "Leave foes unworthy of thy stroke, And bend against a nobler heart The terrors of thy deadly dart."

He ceased: he bade the king farewell: Clear, mid the roar of drum and shell, The clash of sword and harness rang As to his car the warrior sprang. Close followed by his Rakshas train Through Lanka's gate he reached the plain. Then down he leapt, and bade a band Of giants by the chariot stand: Then with due rites, as rules require, Did worship to the Lord of Fire. The sacred oil, as texts ordain, With wreaths of scented flowers and grain, Within the flame in order due, That mightiest of the giants threw. There on the ground were spear and blade, And arrowy leaves and fuel laid; An iron ladle deep and wide, And robes with sanguine colours dyed. Beside him stood a sable goat: The giant seized it by the throat, And straight from the consuming flame Auspicious signs of victory came. For swiftly, curling to the right, The fire leapt up with willing light Undimmed by smoky cloud, and, red Like gold, upon the offering fed. They brought him, while the flame yet glowed, The dart by Brahma's grace bestowed, And all the arms he wielded well Were charmed with text and holy spell.

Thus by the gathered Gods addressed He pondered in his secret breast, And said: "One only way I find To slay this fiend of evil mind. He prayed me once his life to guard From demon, God, and heavenly bard, And spirits of the earth and air, And I consenting heard his prayer. But the proud giant in his scorn Recked not of man of woman born. None else may take his life away, But only man the fiend may slay." The Gods, with Indra at their head, Rejoiced to hear the words he said. Then crowned with glory like a flame, Lord Vishnu to the council came; His hands shell, mace, and discus bore, And saffron were the robes he wore. Riding his eagle through the crowd, As the sun rides upon a cloud, With bracelets of fine gold, he came Loud welcomed by the Gods' acclaim. His praise they sang with one consent, And cried, in lowly reverence bent: "O Lord whose hand fierce Madhu(106) slew, Be thou our refuge, firm and true; Friend of the suffering worlds art thou, We pray thee help thy suppliants now." Then Vishnu spake: "Ye Gods, declare, What may I do to grant your prayer?"

Then Rama, Sita, Lakshman bent At the king's feet, and sadly went Round him with slow steps reverent. When Rama of the duteous heart Had gained his sire's consent to part, With Sita by his side he paid Due reverence to the queen dismayed. And Lakshman, with affection meet, Bowed down and clasped his mother's feet. Sumitra viewed him as he pressed Her feet, and thus her son addressed: "Neglect not Rama wandering there, But tend him with thy faithful care. In hours of wealth, in time of woe, Him, sinless son, thy refuge know. From this good law the just ne'er swerve, That younger sons the eldest serve, And to this righteous rule incline All children of thine ancient line-- Freely to give, reward each rite, Nor spare their bodies in the fight. Let Rama Dasaratha be, Look upon Sita as on me, And let the cot wherein you dwell Be thine Ayodhya. Fare thee well." Her blessing thus Sumitra gave To him whose soul to Rama clave, Exclaiming, when her speech was done, "Go forth, O Lakshman, go, my son. Go forth, my son to win success, High victory and happiness. Go forth thy foemen to destroy, And turn again at last with joy."

Fair as Kailasa white with snow He saw a palace flash and glow, A crystal pavement gem-inlaid, And coral steps and colonnade, And glittering towers that kissed the skies, Whose dazzling splendour charmed his eyes. There pallid, with neglected dress, Watched close by fiend and giantess, Her sweet face thin with constant flow Of tears, with fasting and with woe; Pale as the young moon's crescent when The first faint light returns to men: Dim as the flame when clouds of smoke The latent glory hide and choke; Like Rohini the queen of stars Oppressed by the red planet Mars; From her dear friends and husband torn, Amid the cruel fiends, forlorn, Who fierce-eyed watch around her kept, A tender woman sat and wept. Her sobs, her sighs, her mournful mien, Her glorious eyes, proclaimed the queen. "This, this is she," the Vanar cried, "Fair as the moon and lotus-eyed, I saw the giant Ravan bear A captive through the fields of air. Such was the beauty of the dame; Her form, her lips, her eyes the same. This peerless queen whom I behold Is Rama's wife with limbs of gold. Best of the sons of men is he, And worthy of her lord is she."

"They come, they come. A rushing tide, Ten leagues they spread from side to side, And on to storm thy city press, Fierce rovers of the wilderness. Rich in each princely power and grace, The pride of Dasaratha's race, Rama and Lakshman lead their bands, And halt them on the ocean sands. O Monarch, rise, this peril meet; Risk not the danger of defeat. First let each wiser art be tried; Bribe them, or win them, or divide." Such was the counsel of the spy: And Ravan called to Suka: "Fly, Sugriva lord of Vanars seek, And thus my kingly message speak: "Great power and might and fame are thine, Brave scion of a royal line, King Riksharajas' son, in thee A brother and a friend I see. How wronged by me canst thou complain? What profit here pretend to gain? If from the wood the wife I stole Of Rama of the prudent soul, What cause hast thou to mourn the theft? Thou art not injured or bereft. Return, O King, thy steps retrace And seek thy mountain dwelling-place. No, never may thy hosts within My Lanka's walls a footing win. A mighty town whose strength defies The gathered armies of the skies."

There Dhumra, mighty lord, the dread Of foes, his ursine legions led. There Panas, first for warlike fame, With twenty million warriors came. There glorious Nila, dark of hue, Arrayed his countless troops in view. There moved lord Gavaya brave and bold, Resplendent like a hill of gold, And near him Darimukha stood With millions from the hill and wood And Dwivid famed for strength and speed, And Mamda, both of Asvin seed. There Gaja, strong and glorious, led The countless troops around him spread, And Jambavan(657) the king whose sway The bears delighted to obey, With swarming myriads onward pressed True to his lord Sugriva's hest; And princely Ruman, dear to fame, Led millions whom no hosts could tame, All these and many a chief beside(658) Came onward fierce in warlike pride. They covered all the plain, and still Pressed forward over wood and hill. In rows for many a league around They rested on the grassy ground; Or to Sugriva made their way, Like clouds about the Lord of Day, And to the king their proud heads bent In power and might preeminent. Sugriva then to Rama sped, And raised his reverent hands, and said That every chief from coast to coast Was present with his warrior host.

His giant foe no answer made, But on his string an arrow laid. He raised his arm, the cord he drew, At Lakshman's breast the arrow flew. Sumitra's son, his foemen's dread, Shot a fleet shaft with crescent head, Which cleft that arrow pointed well, And harmless to the earth it fell. A shower of shafts from Lakshman's bow Fell fast and furious on the foe Who quailed not as the missiles smote With idle force his iron coat. Then came the friendly Wind-God near, And whispered thus in Lakshman's ear: "Such shafts as these in vain assail Thy foe's impenetrable mail. A more tremendous missile try, Or never may the giant die. Employ the mighty spell, and aim The weapon known by Brahma's name." He ceased; Sumitra's son obeyed: On his great bow the shaft was laid, And with a roar like thunder, true As Indra's flashing bolt, it flew. The giant poured his shafts like rain To check its course, but all in vain. With spear and mace and sword he tried To turn the fiery dart aside. Winged with a force which naught could check, It smote the monster in the neck, And, sundered from his shoulders, rolled To earth his head and helm of gold.

Before the high souled chief they bent, With circling steps around him went, And then with bitter wailing, they Departed each his several way. Like the great sun engulfed by night, The hero sped beyond their sight, While still the people mourned his fate And wept aloud disconsolate. The car-borne chieftain passed the bound Of Kosala's delightful ground, Where grain and riches bless the land, And people give with liberal hand: A lovely realm unvexed by fear, Where countless shrines and stakes(323) appear: Where mango-groves and gardens grow, And streams of pleasant water flow: Where dwells content a well-fed race, And countless kine the meadows grace: Filled with the voice of praise and prayer: Each hamlet worth a monarch's care. Before him three-pathed Ganga rolled Her heavenly waters bright and cold; O'er her pure breast no weeds were spread, Her banks were hermit-visited. The car-borne hero saw the tide That ran with eddies multiplied, And thus the charioteer addressed: "Here on the bank to-day we rest. Not distant from the river, see! There grows a lofty Ingudi With blossoms thick on every spray: There rest we, charioteer, to-day. I on the queen of floods will gaze, Whose holy stream has highest praise, Where deer, and bird, and glittering snake, God, Daitya, bard their pastime take."

To him the lady of the cave In words like these her answer gave: "Skilled Maya framed in days of old This magic wood of growing gold. The chief artificer in place Was he of all the Danav race. He, for his wise enchantments famed, This glorious dwelling planned and framed He for a thousand years endured The sternest penance, and secured From Brahma of all boons the best, The knowledge Usanas(752) possessed. Lord, by that boon, of all his will, He fashioned all with perfect skill; And, with his blissful state content, In this vast grove a season spent. By Indra's jealous bolt he fell For loving Hema's(753) charms too well. And Brahma on that nymph bestowed The treasures of this fair abode, Wherein her tranquil days to spend In happiness that ne'er may end. Sprung of a lineage old and high, Merusavarni's(754) daughter, I Guard ever for that heavenly dame This home, Svayamprabha(755) my name,-- For I have loved the lady long, So skilled in arts of dance and song. But say what cause your steps has led The mazes of this grove to tread. How, strangers did ye chance to spy The wood concealed from wanderer's eye? Tell clearly why ye come: but first Eat of this fruit and quench your thirst."

By chains of duty firmly tied, The wretched king perforce complied. Rama, to please Kaikeyi went Obedient forth to banishment. Then Lakshman's truth was nobly shown, Then were his love and courage known, When for his brother's sake he dared All perils, and his exile shared. And Sita, Rama's darling wife, Loved even as he loved his life, Whom happy marks combined to bless, A miracle of loveliness, Of Janak's royal lineage sprung, Most excellent of women, clung To her dear lord, like Rohini Rejoicing with the Moon to be.(25) The King and people, sad of mood, The hero's car awhile pursued. But when Prince Rama lighted down At Sringavera's pleasant town, Where Ganga's holy waters flow, He bade his driver turn and go. Guha, Nishadas' king, he met, And on the farther bank was set. Then on from wood to wood they strayed, O'er many a stream, through constant shade, As Bharadvaja bade them, till They came to Chitrakuta's hill. And Rama there, with Lakshman's aid, A pleasant little cottage made, And spent his days with Sita, dressed In coat of bark and deerskin vest.(26) And Chitrakuta grew to be As bright with those illustrious three As Meru's(27) sacred peaks that shine With glory, when the Gods recline Beneath them: Siva's(28) self between The Lord of Gold and Beauty's Queen.

He questioned thus: and she began To tell her deeds and crafty plan. Deceitful-hearted, fond, and blind As is the way of womankind: "No Brahman's wealth has Rama seized, No dame his wandering fancy pleased; His very eyes he ne'er allows To gaze upon a neighbour's spouse. But when I heard the monarch planned To give the realm to Rama's hand, I prayed that Rama hence might flee, And claimed the throne, my son, for thee. The king maintained the name he bare, And did according to my prayer, And Rama, with his brother, sent, And Sita, forth to banishment. When his dear son was seen no more, The lord of earth was troubled sore: Too feeble with his grief to strive, He joined the elemental Five. Up then, most dutiful! maintain The royal state, arise, and reign. For thee, my darling son, for thee All this was planned and wrought by me. Come, cast thy grief and pain aside, With manly courage fortified. This town and realm are all thine own, And fear and grief are here unknown. Come, with Vasishtha's guiding aid, And priests in ritual skilled Let the king's funeral dues be paid, And every claim fulfilled. Perform his obsequies with all That suits his rank and worth, Then give the mandate to install Thyself as lord of earth."

The aged matron, when she saw Fair Sita true to duty's law, Addressed her thus: "High fate is thine Whose thoughts to virtue still incline. Thou, lady of the noble mind, Hast kin and state and wealth resigned To follow Rama forced to tread Where solitary woods are spread. Those women gain high spheres above Who still unchanged their husbands love, Whether they dwell in town or wood, Whether their hearts be ill or good. Though wicked, poor, or led away In love's forbidden paths to stray, The noble matron still will deem Her lord a deity supreme. Regarding kin and friendship, I Can see no better, holier tie, And every penance-rite is dim Beside the joy of serving him. But dark is this to her whose mind Promptings of idle fancy blind, Who led by evil thoughts away Makes him who should command obey. Such women, O dear Maithil dame, Their virtue lose and honest fame, Enslaved by sin and folly, led In these unholy paths to tread. But they who good and true like thee The present and the future see, Like men by holy deeds will rise To mansions in the blissful skies. So keep thee pure from taint of sin, Still to thy lord be true, And fame and merit shalt thou win, To thy devotion due."

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

The aged votaress pure of taint, Revered by every perfect saint, Rose to her feet by Rama's side And thus in gentle tones replied: "My penance meed this day I see Complete, my lord, in meeting thee. This day the fruit of birth I gain, Nor have I served the saints in vain. I reap rich fruits of toil and vow, And heaven itself awaits me now, When I, O chief of men, have done Honour to thee the godlike one. I feel, great lord, thy gentle eye My earthly spirit purify, And I, brave tamer of thy foes, Shall through thy grace in bliss repose. Thy feet by Chitrakuta strayed When those great saints whom I obeyed, In dazzling chariots bright of hue, Hence to their heavenly mansions flew. As the high saints were borne away I heard their holy voices say: "In this pure grove, O devotee, Prince Rama soon will visit thee. When he and Lakshman seek this shade, Be to thy guests all honour paid. Him shalt thou see, and pass away To those blest worlds which ne'er decay." To me, O mighty chief, the best Of lofty saints these words addressed. Laid up within my dwelling lie Fruits of each sort which woods supply,-- Food culled for thee in endless store From every tree on Pampa's shore."

Complaining thus with varied cry They tossed their aged arms on high, And their sad hearts with grief were wrung, Like cows who sorrow for their young. A while they followed on the road Which traces of his chariot showed, But when at length those traces failed, A deep despair their hearts assailed. The chariot marks no more discerned, The hopeless sages backward turned: "Ah, what is this? What can we more? Fate stops the way, and all is o'er." With wearied hearts, in grief and shame They took the road by which they came, And reached Ayodhya's city, where From side to side was naught but care. With troubled spirits quite cast down They looked upon the royal town, And from their eyes, oppressed with woe, Their tears again began to flow. Of Rama reft, the city wore No look of beauty as before, Like a dull river or a lake By Garud robbed of every snake. Dark, dismal as the moonless sky, Or as a sea whose bed is dry, So sad, to every pleasure dead, They saw the town, disquieted. On to their houses, high and vast, Where stores of precious wealth were massed, The melancholy Brahmans passed, Their hearts with anguish cleft: Aloof from all, they came not near To stranger or to kinsman dear, Showing in faces blank and drear That not one joy was left.