Ramayana on Wisdom

Skilled in the laws which Scriptures teach, He answered thus Vasishtha's speech: "O Saint, what warder bars the gate? Whose bidding can the king await? In one's own house what doubt is shown? This kingdom, Sage, is all thine own. E'en now the maidens may be found Within the sacrificial ground: Each vow is vowed and prayed each prayer, And they, like fire, are shining there. Here by the shrine my place I took Expecting thee with eager look, No bar the nuptial rites should stay: What cause have we for more delay?" When Janak's speech the monarch heard, To sons and saints he gave the word, And set them in the holy ring, Then to Vasishtha spoke the king Of Mithila: "O mighty Sage, Now let this task thy care engage, And lend thine aid and counsel wise The nuptial rites to solemnize."

Then Angad spake: "We Vanars well Have searched each valley, cave, and dell, And hill, and brook, and dark recess, And tangled wood, and wilderness. But all in vain: no eye has seen The robber or the Maithil queen. A dreary time has passed away, And stern is he we all obey. Come, cast your grief and sloth aside: Again be every effort tried; So haply may our toil attain The sweet success that follows pain. Laborious effort, toil, and skill, The firm resolve, the constant will Secure at last the ends we seek: Hence, O my friends, I boldly speak. Once more then, noble hearts, once more Let us to-day this wood explore, And, languor and despair subdued, Purchase success with toil renewed. Sugriva is a king austere, And Rama's wrath we needs must fear. Come, Vanars, ye think it wise, And do the thing that I advise."

The suit the holy sage preferred, With willing ear the monarch heard: Vasishtha's lips the counsel praised: Then spake the king with hands upraised: "Now blest indeed my race I deem, Which your high will, O Saints supreme, With Dasaratha's house unites In bonds of love and marriage rites. So be it done. My nieces twain Let Bharat and Satrughna gain, And the four youths the selfsame day Four maiden hands in theirs shall lay. No day so lucky may compare, For marriage--so the wise declare-- With the last day of Phalguni Ruled by the genial deity." Then with raised hands in reverence due To those arch-saints he spoke anew: "I am your pupil, ever true: To me high favour have ye shown; Come, sit ye on my royal throne, For Dasaratha rules these towers E'en as Ayodhya now is ours. Do with your own whate'er ye choose: Your lordship here will none refuse."

The more he showed his will to tread The path where filial duty led, The more the people, round him thronged, For their dear Rama's empire longed. Still more attached his followers grew, As Rama, with his brother, drew The people with his virtues' ties, Lamenting all with tear-dimmed eyes. The saintly twice-born, triply old In glory, knowledge, seasons told, With hoary heads that shook and bowed, Their voices raised and spake aloud: "O steeds, who best and noblest are, Who whirl so swiftly Rama's car, Go not, return: we call on you: Be to your master kind and true. For speechless things are swift to hear, And naught can match a horse's ear, O generous steeds, return, when thus You hear the cry of all of us. Each vow he keeps most firm and sure, And duty makes his spirit pure. Back with our chief! not wood-ward hence; Back to his royal residence!"

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."

"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 passed the weary night, and all Assembled at their prince's call, And every lord of high estate Was gathered round him for debate. Bright was the chieftains' glorious band Round Angad on the ocean strand, As when the mighty Storm-Gods meet Round Indra on his golden seat. Then princely Angad looked on each, And thus began his prudent speech: "What chief of all our host will leap A hundred leagues across the deep? Who, O illustrious Vanars, who Will make Sugriva's promise true, And from our weight of fear set free The leaders of our band and me? To whom, O warriors, shall we owe A sweet release from pain and woe, And proud success, and happy lives With our dear children and our wives, Again permitted by his grace To look with joy on Rama's face, And noble Lakshman, and our lord The king, to our sweet homes restored?"

When royal Janak's words were done, Joined with Vasishtha Kusik's son, The mighty sage began his speech: "No mind may soar, no thought can reach The glories of Ikshvaku's line, Or, great Videha's King, of thine: None in the whole wide world may vie With them in fame and honours high. Well matched, I ween, in holy bands, These peerless pairs will join their hands. But hear me as I speak once more; Thy brother, skilled in duty's lore, Has at his home a royal pair Of daughters most divinely fair. I for the hands of these sweet two For Bharat and Satrughna sue, Both princes of heroic mould, Wise, fair of form, and lofty-souled. All Dasaratha's sons, I ween, Own each young grace of form and mien: Brave as the Gods are they, nor yield To the great Lords the worlds who shield. By these, good Prince of merits high, Ikshvaku's house with thine ally."

The hermit saw the slaughtered bird, And all his heart with ruth was stirred. The fowler's impious deed distressed His gentle sympathetic breast, And while the curlew's sad cries rang Within his ears, the hermit sang: "No fame be thine for endless time, Because, base outcast, of thy crime, Whose cruel hand was fain to slay One of this gentle pair at play!" E'en as he spoke his bosom wrought And laboured with the wondering thought What was the speech his ready tongue Had uttered when his heart was wrung. He pondered long upon the speech, Recalled the words and measured each, And thus exclaimed the saintly guide To Bharadvaja by his side: "With equal lines of even feet, With rhythm and time and tone complete, The measured form of words I spoke In shock of grief be termed a sloke."(46) And Bharadvaja, nothing slow His faithful love and zeal to show, Answered those words of wisdom, "Be The name, my lord, as pleases thee."

The best of Brahmans answer made: "Be not, great lord of kings, afraid. Thy virtues have not failed to win My favour, O thou pure of sin." Then in the front the saint was placed, The king came next in joyous haste, And with him entered his abode, Mid glad acclaim as on they rode. To greet the sage the reverent crowd Raised suppliant hands and humbly bowed. Then from the palace many a dame Following well-dressed Santa came, Stood by the mighty saint and cried: "See, honour's source, thy son's dear bride." The saint, who every virtue knew, His arms around his daughter threw, And with a father's rapture pressed The lady to his wondering breast. Arising from the saint's embrace She bowed her low before his face, And then, with palm to palm applied, Stood by her hermit father's side. He for his son, as laws ordain, Performed the rite that frees from stain,(129) And, honoured by the wise and good, With him departed to the wood.

Thus said Vasishtha, and again To Rama spake in duteous strain: "All men the light of life who see With high respect should look on three: High honour ne'er must be denied To father, mother, holy guide. First to their sires their birth they owe, Nursed with maternal love they grow: Their holy guides fair knowledge teach: So men should love and honour each. Thy sire and thou have learned of me, The sacred guide of him and thee, And if my word thou wilt obey Thou still wilt keep the virtuous way. See, with the chiefs of every guild And all thy friends, this place is filled: All these, as duty bids, protect; So still the righteous path respect. O, for thine aged mother feel, Nor spurn the virtuous dame's appeal: Obey, O Prince, thy mother dear, And still to virtue's path adhere. Yield thou to Bharat's fond request, With earnest supplication pressed, So wilt thou to thyself be true, And faith and duty still pursue."

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."

Now Rama, ere the night was fled, O'er many a league of road had sped, Till, as his course he onward held, The morn the shades of night dispelled. The rites of holy dawn he paid, And all the country round surveyed. He saw, as still he hurried through With steeds which swift as arrows flew, Hamlets and groves with blossoms fair, And fields which showed the tillers' care, While from the clustered dwellings near The words of peasants reached his ear: "Fie on our lord the king, whose soul Is yielded up to love's control! Fie on the vile Kaikeyi! Shame On that malicious sinful dame, Who, keenly bent on cruel deeds, No bounds of right and virtue heeds, But with her wicked art has sent So good a prince to banishment, Wise, tender-hearted, ruling well His senses, in the woods to dwell. Ah cruel king! his heart of steel For his own son no love could feel, Who with the sinless Rama parts, The darling of the people's hearts."

We with such might have naught to do: The forest rule should guide us too. But when Ayodhya hails thee lord, Be then thy warrior life restored: So shall thy sire(423) and mother joy In bliss that naught may e'er destroy. And if, resigning empire, thou Submit thee to the hermit's vow, The noblest gain from virtue springs, And virtue joy unending brings. All earthly blessings virtue sends: On virtue all the world depends. Those who with vow and fasting tame To due restraint the mind and frame, Win by their labour, nobly wise, The highest virtue for their prize. Pure in the hermit's grove remain, True to thy duty, free from stain. But the three worlds are open thrown To thee, by whom all things are known. Who gave me power that I should dare His duty to my lord declare? 'Tis woman's fancy, light as air, That moves my foolish breast. Now with thy brother counsel take, Reflect, thy choice with judgment make, And do what seems the best."

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!"

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."

Thus in their dread the Immortals sued: The God a dwarflike shape indued:(168) Before Virochan's son he came, Three steps of land his only claim. The boon obtained, in wondrous wise Lord Vishnu's form increased in size; Through all the worlds, tremendous, vast, God of the Triple Step, he passed.(169) The whole broad earth from side to side He measured with one mighty stride, Spanned with the next the firmament, And with the third through heaven he went. Thus was the king of demons hurled By Vishnu to the nether world, And thus the universe restored To Indra's rule, its ancient lord. And now because the immortal God This spot in dwarflike semblance trod, The grove has aye been loved by me For reverence of the devotee. But demons haunt it, prompt to stay Each holy offering I would pay. Be thine, O lion-lord, to kill These giants that delight in ill. This day, beloved child, our feet Shall rest within the calm retreat: And know, thou chief of Raghu's line, My hermitage is also thine."

The best of those who Scripture know Said to the king, "My lord, I go." To Rama's house Vasishtha hied, The hero's fast by rule to guide, And skilled in sacred texts to tell Each step to him instructed well. Straight to Prince Rama's high abode, That like a cloud pale-tinted showed, Borne in his priestly car he rode. Two courts he passed, and in the third He stayed his car. Then Rama heard The holy sage was come, and flew To honour him with honour due. He hastened to the car and lent His hand to aid the priest's descent. Then spoke Vasishtha words like these, Pleased with his reverent courtesies, With pleasant things his heart to cheer Who best deserved glad news to hear: "Prince, thou hast won thy father's grace, And thine will be the Regent's place: Now with thy Sita, as is right, In strictest fasting spend the night, For when the morrow's dawn is fair The king will consecrate his heir: So Nahush,(269) as the wise relate, Yayati joyed to consecrate."

So by that matchless arrow cleft, The deer's bright form Maricha left, Resumed his giant shape and size And closed in death his languid eyes. When Rama saw his awful foe Gasp, smeared with blood, in deadly throe, His anxious thoughts to Sita sped, And the wise words that Lakshman said, That this was false Maricha's art, Returned again upon his heart. He knew the foe he triumphed o'er The name of great Maricha bore. "The fiend," he pondered, 'ere he died, "Ho, Lakshman! ho, my Sita!" cried Ah, if that cry has reached her ear, How dire must be my darling's fear! And Lakshman of the mighty arm, What thinks he in his wild alarm? As thus he thought in sad surmise, Each startled hair began to rise, And when he saw the giant slain And thought upon that cry again, His spirit sank and terror pressed Full sorely on the hero's breast. Another deer he chased and struck, He bore away the the fallen buck, To Janasthan then turned his face And hastened to his dwelling place.

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."

Thus spake Ikshvaku's son, and ceased: The giants from their bonds released Lauded the King with glad accord, And hasted homeward to their lord. Before the tyrant side by side Suka and Saran stood and cried: "Vibhishan seized us, King, and fain His helpless captives would have slain. But glorious Rama saw us; he, Great-hearted hero, made us free. There in one spot our eyes beheld Four chiefs on earth unparalleled, Who with the guardian Gods may vie Who rule the regions of the sky. There Rama stood, the boast and pride Of Raghu's race, by Lakshman's side. There stood the sage Vibhishan, there Sugriva strong beyond compare. These four alone can batter down Gate, rampart, wall, and Lanka's town. Nay, Rama matchless in his form, A single foe, thy town would storm: So wondrous are his weapons, he Needs not the succour of the three. Why speak we of the countless train That fills the valley, hill and plain, The millions of the Vanar breed Whom Rama and Sugriva lead? O King, be wise, contend no more, And Sita to her lord restore."

The words that Sita uttered, spurred By truest love, the hero heard: Then he who ne'er from virtue strayed To Janak's child his answer made: "In thy wise speech, sweet love, I find True impress of thy gentle mind, Well skilled the warrior's path to trace, Thou pride of Janak's ancient race. What fitting answer shall I frame To thy good words, my honoured dame? Thou sayst the warrior bears the bow That misery's tears may cease to flow; And those pure saints who love the shade Of Dandak wood are sore dismayed. They sought me of their own accord, With suppliant prayers my aid implored: They, fed on roots and fruit, who spend Their lives where bosky wilds extend, My timid love, enjoy no rest By these malignant fiends distressed. These make the flesh of man their meat: The helpless saints they kill and eat. The hermits sought my side, the chief Of Brahman race declared their grief. I heard, and from my lips there fell The words which thou rememberest well: I listened as the hermits cried, And to their prayers I thus replied:

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."

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

The trees the witching influence knew, And bent with fruits of loveliest hue, And Rama's consecration lent New sweetness to each flowret's scent. The monarch, joy of Raghu's line, Gave largess to the Brahmans, kine And steeds unnumbered, wealth untold Of robes and pearls and gems and gold. A jewelled chain, whose lustre passed The glory of the sun, he cast About his friend Sugriva's neck; And, Angad Bali's son to deck, He gave a pair of armlets bright With diamond and lazulite. A string of pearls of matchless hue Which gleams like tender moonlight threw Adorned with gems of brightest sheen, He gave to grace his darling queen. The offering from his hand received A moment on her bosom heaved; Then from her neck the chain she drew, A glance on all the Vanars threw, And wistful eyes on Rama bent As still she held the ornament. Her wish he knew, and made reply To that mute question of her eye: "Yea, love; the chain on him bestow Whose wisdom truth and might we know, The firm ally, the faithful friend Through toil and peril to the end."

Thus spoke the prince whose chief delight Was duty, and to aid the right: And Lakshman keenly felt the blame, And shrank within himself for shame: And then his answer thus returned, With downcast eye and cheek that burned: "Brother, I ween, to see thy face Our sire himself has sought this place." Thus Lakshman spoke and stood ashamed, And Rama saw and thus exclaimed: "It is the strong-armed monarch: he Is come, methinks, his sons to see, To bid us both the forest quit For joys for which he deems us fit: He thinks on all our care and pain, And now would lead us home again. My glorious father hence will bear Sita who claims all tender care. I see two coursers fleet as storms, Of noble breed and lovely forms. I see the beast of mountain size Who bears the king our father wise, The aged Victor, march this way In front of all the armed array. But doubt and fear within me rise, For when I look with eager eyes I see no white umbrella spread, World-famous, o'er the royal head. Now, Lakshman, from the tree descend, And to my words attention lend."

No flash of lightning lit the sky, No cloudlet marred the blue on high. The Saras(630) missed the welcome rain, The moon's full beams were bright again. Sugriva, lapped in bliss, forgot The claims of faith, or heeded not; And by alluring joys misled The path of falsehood learned to tread. In careless ease he passed each hour, And dallied in his lady's bower. Each longing of his heart was stilled, And every lofty hope fulfilled. With royal Ruma by his side, Or Tara yet a dearer bride, He spent each joyous day and night In revelry and wild delight, Like Indra whom the nymphs entice To taste the joys of Paradise. The power to courtiers' hands resigned, To all their acts his eyes were blind. All doubt, all fear he cast aside And lived with pleasure for his guide. But sage Hanuman, firm and true, Whose heart the lore of Scripture knew, Well trained to meet occasion, trained In all by duty's law ordained, Strove with his prudent speech to find Soft access to the monarch's mind. He, skilled in every gentle art Of eloquence that wins the heart, Sugriva from his trance to wake, His salutary counsel spake:

"Not he," Hanuman cried, "not he Who taught the Gods(928) may rival thee, Supreme in power of quickest sense, First in the art of eloquence. But hear me soothly speak, O King, And learn the hope to which I cling. Vibhishan comes no crafty spy: Urged by his brother's fault to fly. With righteous soul that loathes the sin, He fled from Lanka and his kin. If strangers question, doubt will rise And chill the heart of one so wise. Marred by distrust the parle will end, And thou wilt lose a faithful friend. Nor let it seem so light a thing To sound a stranger's heart, O King. And he, I ween, whate'er he say, Will ne'er an evil thought betray. He comes a friend in happy time, Loathing his brother for his crime. His ear has heard thine old renown, The might that struck King Bali down, And set Sugriva on the throne. And looking now to thee alone He comes thy matchless aid to win And punish Ravan for his sin. Thus have I tried thy heart to move, And thus Vibhishan's truth to prove. Still in his friendship I confide; But ponder, wisest, and decide."

"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."

Red flashed his eyes with angry glow: He stood and grasped his mighty bow, Terrific as the fire of doom Whose quenchless flames the world consume. His clanging cord the archer drew, And swift the fiery arrows flew Fierce as the flashing levin sent By him who rules the firmament. Down through the startled waters sped Each missile with its flaming head. The foamy billows rose and sank, And dashed upon the trembling bank. Sea monsters of tremendous form With crash and roar of thunder storm. Still the wild waters rose and fell Crowned with white foam and pearl and shell. Each serpent, startled from his rest, Raised his fierce eyes and glowing crest. And prisoned Danavs(933) where they dwelt In depths below the terror felt. Again upon his string he laid A flaming shaft, but Lakshman stayed His arm, with gentle reasoning tried To soothe his angry mood, and cried: "Brother, reflect: the wise control The rising passions of the soul. Let Ocean grant, without thy threat, The boon on which thy heart is set. That gracious lord will ne'er refuse When Rama son of Raghu sues." He ceased: and voices from the air Fell clear and loud, Spare, Rama, spare.

Then Rama, while his spirit burned For battle, words like these returned: "The eastern gate be Nila's care, Opponent of Prahasta there. The southern gate, with troops arrayed Let Angad, Bali's son, invade. The gate that fronts the falling sun Shall be by brave Hanuman won; Soon through its portals shall he lead His myriads of Vanar breed. The gate that fronts the north shall be Assailed by Lakshman and by me, For I myself have sworn to kill The tyrant who delights in ill. Armed with the boon which Brahma gave, The Gods of heaven he loves to brave, And through the trembling worlds he flies, Oppressor of the just and wise. Thou, Jambavan, and thou, O King Of Vanars, all your bravest bring, And with your hosts in dense array Straight to the centre force your way. But let no Vanar in the storm Disguise him in a human form, Ye chiefs who change your shapes at will, Retain your Vanar semblance still. Thus, when we battle with the foe, Both men and Vanars will ye know, In human form will seven appear; Myself, my brother Lakshman here; Vibhishan, and the four he led From Lanka's city when he fled."

Sumantra heard the sad reply, And saw his master's tearful eye. With reverent palm to palm applied He drew a little space aside. Then, as the king, with misery weak, With vain endeavour strove to speak, Kaikeyi, skilled in plot and plan, To sage Sumantra thus began: "The king, absorbed in joyful thought For his dear son, no rest has sought: Sleepless to him the night has past, And now o'erwatched he sinks at last. Then go, Sumantra, and with speed The glorious Rama hither lead: Go, as I pray, nor longer wait; No time is this to hesitate." "How can I go, O Lady fair, Unless my lord his will declare?" "Fain would I see him," cried the king, "Quick, quick, my beauteous Rama bring." Then rose the happy thought to cheer The bosom of the charioteer, "The king, I ween, of pious mind, The consecration has designed." Sumantra for his wisdom famed, Delighted with the thought he framed, From the calm chamber, like a bay Of crowded ocean, took his way. He turned his face to neither side, But forth he hurried straight; Only a little while he eyed The guards who kept the gate. He saw in front a gathered crowd Of men of every class, Who, parting as he came, allowed The charioteer to pass.

"Now thou hast heard thy brother, take His counsel if thou hold it wise, And do the thing his words advise, Do not, my son, with tears I pray, My rival's wicked word obey, Leave me not here consumed with woe, Nor to the wood, an exile, go. If thou, to virtue ever true, Thy duty's path would still pursue, The highest duty bids thee stay And thus thy mother's voice obey. Thus Kasyap's great ascetic son A seat among the Immortals won: In his own home, subdued, he stayed, And honour to his mother paid. If reverence to thy sire be due, Thy mother claims like honour too, And thus I charge thee, O my child, Thou must not seek the forest wild. Ah, what to me were life and bliss, Condemned my darling son to miss? But with my Rama near, to eat The very grass itself were sweet. But if thou still wilt go and leave Thy hapless mother here to grieve, I from that hour will food abjure, Nor life without my son endure. Then it will be thy fate to dwell In depth of world-detested hell. As Ocean in the olden time Was guilty of an impious crime That marked the lord of each fair flood As one who spills a Brahman's blood."(288)

But Tara, when her weeping eye Saw Bali, on the litter lie, Laid his dear head upon her lap, And wailed aloud her dire mishap; "O mighty Vanar, lord and king, To whose fond breast I loved to cling, Of goodly arms, wise, brave, and bold, Rise, look upon me as of old. Rise up, my sovereign, dost thou see A crowd of subjects weep for thee? Still o'er thy face, though breath has fled, The joyous light of life is spread: Thus around the sun, although he set, A crimson glory lingers yet. Death clad in Rama's form to-day Hast dragged thee from the world away. One shaft from his tremendous bow Dooms us to widowhood and woe. Hast thou, O Vanar King, no eyes Thy weeping wives to recognize, Who for the length of way unmeet Have followed thee with weary feet? Yet every moon-faced beauty here By thee, O King was counted dear. Lord of the Vanar race, hast thou No eyes to see Sugriva now? About thee stands in mournful mood A sore-afflicted multitude, And Tara and thy lords of state Around their monarch weep and wait. Arise my lord, with gentle speech, As was thy wont, dismissing each, Then in the forest will we play And love shall make our spirits gay."

Next, Rishyasring, well-honoured sage, And Santa, sought their hermitage. The king himself, of prudent mind, Attended him, with troops behind. And all her men the town outpoured With Saint Vasishtha and their lord. High mounted on a car of state, O'er canopied fair Santa sate. Drawn by white oxen, while a band Of servants marched on either hand. Great gifts of countless price she bore, With sheep and goats and gems in store. Like Beauty's self the lady shone With all the jewels she had on, As, happy in her sweet content, Peerless amid the fair she went. Not Queen Paulomi's(125) self could be More loving to her lord than she. She who had lived in happy ease, Honoured with all her heart could please, While dames and kinsfolk ever vied To see her wishes gratified, Soon as she knew her husband's will Again to seek the forest, still Was ready for the hermit's cot, Nor murmured at her altered lot. The king attended to the wild That hermit and his own dear child, And in the centre of a throng Of noble courtiers rode along. The sage's son had let prepare A lodge within the wood, and there While they lingered blithe and gay. Then, duly honoured, went their way. The glorious hermit Rishyasring Drew near and thus besought the king:

"Not for myself, O King, I grieve, For Tara or the friends I leave, As for sweet Angad, my dear son, My noble, only little one. For, nursed in luxury and bliss, His father he will mourn and miss, And like a stream whose fount is dry Will waste away and sink and die,-- My own dear child, my only boy, His mother Tara's hope and joy. Spare him, O son of Raghu, spare The child entrusted to thy care. My Angad and Sugriva treat E'en as thy heart considers meet, For thou, O chief of men, art strong To guard the right and punish wrong. O, if thou wilt thine ear incline To hear these dying words of mine, He and Sugriva will to thee As Bharat and as Lakshman be. Let not my Tara, left forlorn, Weep for Sugriva's wrathful scorn; Nor let him, for her lord's offence, Condemn her faithful innocence. And well and wisely may he reign If thy dear grace his power sustain: If, following thee his friend and guide, He turn not from thy hest aside: Thus may he reign with glory, nay Thus to the skies will win his way. Though stayed by Tara's fond recall, By thy dear hand I longed to fall. Against my brother rushed and fought, And gained the death I long have sought."

There gleamed the car with wealth untold Of precious gems and burnished gold; Nor could the Wind-God's son withdraw His rapt gaze from the sight he saw, By Visvakarma's(813) self proclaimed The noblest work his hand had framed. Uplifted in the air it glowed Bright as the sun's diurnal road. The eye might scan the wondrous frame And vainly seek one spot to blame, So fine was every part and fair With gems inlaid with lavish care. No precious stones so rich adorn The cars wherein the Gods are borne, Prize of the all-resistless might That sprang from pain and penance rite,(814) Obedient to the master's will It moved o'er wood and towering hill, A glorious marvel well designed By Visvakarma's artist mind, Adorned with every fair device That decks the cars of Paradise. Swift moving as the master chose It flew through air or sank or rose,(815) And in its fleetness left behind The fury of the rushing wind: Meet mansion for the good and great, The holy, wise, and fortunate. Throughout the chariot's vast extent Were chambers wide and excellent, All pure and lovely to the eyes As moonlight shed from cloudless skies. Fierce goblins, rovers of the night Who cleft the clouds with swiftest flight In countless hosts that chariot drew, With earrings clashing as they flew.

The heavenly Father smiled in glee, And said, "O best of hermits, see, A verse, unconscious, thou hast made; No longer be the task delayed. Seek not to trace, with labour vain, The unpremeditated strain. The tuneful lines thy lips rehearsed Spontaneous from thy bosom burst. Then come, O best of seers, relate The life of Rama good and great, The tale that saintly Narad told, In all its glorious length unfold. Of all the deeds his arm has done Upon this earth, omit not one, And thus the noble life record Of that wise, brave, and virtuous lord. His every act to day displayed, His secret life to none betrayed: How Lakshman, how the giants fought; With high emprise and hidden thought: And all that Janak's child(49) befell Where all could see, where none could tell. The whole of this shall truly be Made known, O best of saints, to thee. In all thy poem, through my grace, No word of falsehood shall have place. Begin the story, and rehearse The tale divine in charming verse. As long as in this firm-set land The streams shall flow, the mountains stand, So long throughout the world, be sure, The great Ramayan shall endure.(50) While the Ramayan's ancient strain Shall glorious in the earth remain, To higher spheres shalt thou arise And dwell with me above the skies."

As when the driver's torturing hook Goads on an elephant, the look Of sire and mother in despair Was more than Rama's heart could bear. As mother kine to stalls return Which hold the calves for whom they yearn, So to the car she tried to run As a cow seeks her little one. Once and again the hero's eyes Looked on his mother, as with cries Of woe she called and gestures wild, "O Sita, Lakshman, O my child!" "Stay," cried the king, "thy chariot stay:" "On, on," cried Rama, "speed away." As one between two hosts, inclined To neither was Sumantra's mind. But Rama spake these words again: "A lengthened woe is bitterest pain. On, on; and if his wrath grow hot, Thine answer be, 'I heard thee not.' " Sumantra, at the chief's behest, Dismissed the crowd that toward him pressed, And, as he bade, to swiftest speed Urged on his way each willing steed. The king's attendants parted thence, And paid him heart-felt reverence: In mind, and with the tears he wept, Each still his place near Rama kept. As swift away the horses sped, His lords to Dasaratha said: "To follow him whom thou again Wouldst see returning home is vain." With failing limb and drooping mien He heard their counsel wise: Still on their son the king and queen Kept fast their lingering eyes.(314)

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

Then on the king her back she turned, And answered thus the prayer she spurned: "Turn, Ravan, turn thee from thy sin; Seek virtue's paths and walk therein. To others dames be honour shown; Protect them as thou wouldst thine own. Taught by thyself, from wrong abstain Which, wrought on thee, thy heart would pain.(832) Beware: this lawless love of thine Will ruin thee and all thy line; And for thy sin, thy sin alone, Will Lanka perish overthrown. Dream not that wealth and power can sway My heart from duty's path to stray. Linked like the Day-God and his shine, I am my lord's and he is mine. Repent thee of thine impious deed; To Rama's side his consort lead. Be wise; the hero's friendship gain, Nor perish in his fury slain. Go, ask the God of Death to spare, Or red bolt flashing through the air, But look in vain for spell or charm To stay my Rama's vengeful arm. Thou, when the hero bends his bow, Shalt hear the clang that heralds woe, Loud as the clash when clouds are rent And Indra's bolt to earth is sent. Then shall his furious shafts be sped, Each like a snake with fiery head, And in their flight shall hiss and flame Marked with the mighty archer's name.(833) Then in the fiery deluge all Thy giants round their king shall fall."

"Thy fear and doubt," he cried, "dispelled, Hear, lady, what mine eyes beheld. Hear the imperial signs that grace The glory of Ikshvaku's race. With moon-bright face and lotus eyes, Most beautiful and good and wise, With sun-like glory round his head, Long-suffering as the earth we tread, He from all foes his realm defends. Yea, o'er the world his care extends. He follows right in all his ways, And ne'er from royal duty strays. He knows the lore that strengthens kings; His heart to truth and honour clings. Each grace and gift of form and mind Adorns that prince of human kind; And virtues like his own endue His brother ever firm and true. O'er all the land they roamed distraught, And thee with vain endeavour sought, Until at length their wandering feet Trod wearily our wild retreat. Our banished king Sugriva spied The princes from the mountain side. By his command I sought the pair And led them to our monarch there. Thus Rama and Sugriva met, And joined the bonds that knit them yet, When each besought the other's aid, And friendship and alliance made. An arrow launched from Rama's bow Laid Bali dead, Sugriva's foe. Then by commandment of our lord The Vanar hosts each land explored. We reached the coast: I crossed the sea And found my way at length to thee."(858)

The giants bent, in rage and grief, Their eyes upon the fallen chief: Then flying wild with fear and pale To Ravan bore the mournful tale. He heard how Atikaya died, Then turned him to his lords, and cried: "Where are they now--my bravest--where, Wise to consult and prompt to dare? Where is Dhumraksha, skilled to wield All weapons in the battle field? Akampan, and Prahasta's might, And Kumbhakarna bold in fight? These, these and many a Rakshas more, Each master of the arms he bore, Who every foe in fight o'erthrew, The victors none could e'er subdue, Have perished by the might of one, The vengeful arm of Raghu's son. In vain I cast mine eyes around, No match for Rama here is found, No chief to stand before that bow Whose deadly shafts have caused our woe. Now, warriors, to your stations hence; Provide ye for the wall's defence, And be the Asoka garden, where The lady lies, your special care. Be every lane and passage barred, Set at each gate a chosen guard. And with your troops, where danger calls, Be ready to defend the walls. Each movement of the Vanars mark; Observe them when the skies grow dark; Be ready in the dead of night, And ere the morning bring the light. Taught by our loss we may not scorn These legions of the forest-born."

His lordly steps are firm and free, His strong arms reach below his knee;(17) All fairest graces join to deck His head, his brow, his stately neck, And limbs in fair proportion set: The manliest form e'er fashioned yet. Graced with each high imperial mark, His skin is soft and lustrous dark. Large are his eyes that sweetly shine With majesty almost divine. His plighted word he ne'er forgets; On erring sense a watch he sets. By nature wise, his teacher's skill Has trained him to subdue his will. Good, resolute and pure, and strong, He guards mankind from scathe and wrong, And lends his aid, and ne'er in vain, The cause of justice to maintain. Well has he studied o'er and o'er The Vedas(18)and their kindred lore. Well skilled is he the bow to draw,(19) Well trained in arts and versed in law; High-souled and meet for happy fate, Most tender and compassionate; The noblest of all lordly givers, Whom good men follow, as the rivers Follow the King of Floods, the sea: So liberal, so just is he. The joy of Queen Kausalya's(20)heart, In every virtue he has part: Firm as Himalaya's(21) snowy steep, Unfathomed like the mighty deep: The peer of Vishnu's power and might, And lovely as the Lord of Night;(22) Patient as Earth, but, roused to ire, Fierce as the world-destroying fire; In bounty like the Lord of Gold,(23) And Justice self in human mould.

She listened, as with sorrow faint He murmured forth his sad complaint: Her brimming eyes with tears ran o'er, As spouts the new fallen water pour; His suppliant hands, with fear dismayed She gently clasped in hers, and laid, Like a fair lotus, on her head, And faltering in her trouble said: "Forgive me; at thy feet I lie, With low bent head to thee I cry. By thee besought, thy guilty dame Pardon from thee can scarcely claim. She merits not the name of wife Who cherishes perpetual strife With her own husband good and wise, Her lord both here and in the skies. I know the claims of duty well, I know thy lips the truth must tell. All the wild words I rashly spoke, Forth from my heart, through anguish, broke; For sorrow bends the stoutest soul, And cancels Scripture's high control. Yea, sorrow's might all else o'erthrows The strongest and the worst of foes. 'Tis thus with all: we keenly feel, Yet bear the blows our foemen deal, But when a slender woe assails The manliest spirit bends and quails. The fifth long night has now begun Since the wild woods have lodged my son: To me whose joy is drowned in tears, Each day a dreary year appears. While all my thoughts on him are set Grief at my heart swells wilder yet: With doubled might thus Ocean raves When rushing floods increase his waves."

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

Beyond that spot your way pursue: A noble mountain shall ye view, Named Rishabh, like a mighty bull, With gems made bright and beautiful. All trees of sandal flourish there Of heavenly fragrance, rich and rare. But, though they tempt your longing eyes, Avoid to touch them, and be wise. For Rohitas, a guardian band Of fierce Gandharvas, round them stand, Who five bright sovereign lords(712) obey, In glory like the God of Day. Here by good deeds a home is won With shapes like fire, the moon, the sun. Here they who merit heaven by worth Dwell on the confines of the earth. There stay: beyond it, dark and drear, Lies the departed spirits' sphere, And, girt with darkness, far from bliss, Is Yama's sad metropolis.(713) So far, my lords, o'er land and sea Your destined course is plain and free. Beyond your steps you may not set, Where living thing ne'er journeyed yet. With utmost care these realms survey, And all you meet upon the way. And, when the lady's course is traced, Back to your king, O Vanars, haste. And he who tells me he has seen. After long search, the Maithil queen, Shall gain a noble guerdon: he In power and bliss shall equal me. Dear as my very life, above His fellows in his master's love; I call him, yea though stained with crime. My kinsman from that happy time."

"A king of Brahma's seed who bore The name of Kusa reigned of yore. Just, faithful to his vows, and true, He held the good in honour due. His bride, a queen of noble name, Of old Vidarbha's(172) monarchs came. Like their own father, children four, All valiant boys, the lady bore. In glorious deeds each nerve they strained, And well their Warrior part sustained. To them most just, and true, and brave, Their father thus his counsel gave: "Beloved children, ne'er forget Protection is a prince's debt: The noble work at once begin, High virtue and her fruits to win." The youths, to all the people dear, Received his speech with willing ear; And each went forth his several way, Foundations of a town to lay. Kusamba, prince of high renown, Was builder of Kausambi's town, And Kusanabha, just and wise, Bade high Mahodaya's towers arise. Amurtarajas chose to dwell In Dharmaranya's citadel, And Vasu bade his city fair The name of Girivraja bear.(173) This fertile spot whereon we stand Was once the high-souled Vasu's land. Behold! as round we turn our eyes, Five lofty mountain peaks arise. See! bursting from her parent hill, Sumagadhi, a lovely rill, Bright gleaming as she flows between The mountains, like a wreath is seen, And then through Magadh's plains and groves With many a fair maeander roves. And this was Vasu's old domain, The fertile Magadh's broad champaign, Which smiling fields of tilth adorn And diadem with golden corn.

Here players shone in bright attire, There dancing women swelled the quire. Each with his friend had much to say Of Rama's consecration-day: Yea, even children, as they played At cottage doors beneath the shade. The royal street with flowers was strown Which loving hands in heaps had thrown, And here and there rich incense lent Its fragrance to the garland's scent; And all was fresh and fair and bright In honour of the coming rite. With careful foresight to illume With borrowed blaze the midnight gloom, The crowds erected here and there Trees in each street gay lamps to bear. The city thus from side to side In festal guise was beautified. The people of the town who longed To view the rite together thronged, And filling every court and square Praised the good king in converse there: "Our high-souled king! He throws a grace On old Ikshvaku's royal race. He feels his years' increasing weight, And makes his son associate. Great joy to us the choice will bring Of Rama for our lord and king. The good and bad to him are known, And long will he protect his own. No pride his prudent breast may swell, Most just, he loves his brothers well, And to us all that love extends, Cherished as brothers and as friends. Long may our lord in life remain, Good Dasaratha, free from stain, By whose most gracious favour we Rama anointed king shall see."

Away, away the Vanars sped Like locusts o'er the land outspread. To northern realms where rising high The King of Mountains cleaves the sky, Fierce Satabal with vast array Of Vanar warriors led the way. Far southward, as his lord decreed, Wise Hanuman, the Wind-God's seed, With Angad his swift way pursued, And Tara's warlike multitude, Strong Vinata with all his band Betook him to the eastern land, And brave Sushen in eager quest Sped swiftly to the gloomy west. Each Vanar chieftain sought with speed The quarter by his king decreed, While from his legions rose on high The shout and boast and battle cry: "We will restore the dame and beat The robber down beneath our feet. My arm alone shall win the day From Ravan met in single fray, Shall rob the robber of his life, And rescue Rama's captive wife All trembling in her fear and woe. Here, comrades, rest: no farther go: For I will vanquish hell, and she Shall by this arm again be free. The rooted mountains will I rend, The mightiest trees will break and bend, Earth to her deep foundations cleave, And make the calm sea throb and heave. A hundred leagues from steep to steep In desperate bound my feet shall leap. My steps shall tread unchecked and free, Through woods, o'er land and hill and sea, Range as they list from flood to fell, And wander through the depths of hell."

"I Rama's wife, on that sad day, By Ravan's arm was borne away, Seized, while I sat and feared no ill, By him who wears each form at will. A helpless captive, left forlorn To demons' threats and taunts and scorn, Here for my lord I weep and sigh, And worn with woe would gladly die. For what is life to me afar From Rama of the mighty car? The robber in his fruitless sin Would hope his captive's love to win. My meaner foot shall never touch The demon whom I loathe so much. The senseless fool! he knows me not, Nor the proud soul his love would blot. Yea, limb from limb will I be rent, But never to his prayer consent; Be burnt and perish in the fire, But never meet his base desire. My lord was grateful, true and wise, And looked on woe with pitying eyes; But now, recoiling from the strife He pities not his captive wife. Alone in Janasthan he slew The thousands of the Rakshas crew. His arm was strong, his heart was brave, Why comes he not to free and save? Why blame my lord in vain surmise? He knows not where his lady lies. O, if he knew, o'er land and sea His feet were swift to set me free; This Lanka, girdled by the deep, Would fall consumed, a shapeless heap, And from each ruined home would rise A Rakshas widow's groans and cries."

On the fierce king Hanuman turned His angry eyes that glowed and burned. He saw him decked with wealth untold Of diamond and pearl and gold, And priceless was each wondrous gem That sparkled in his diadem. About his neck rich chains were twined, The best that fancy e'er designed, And a fair robe with pearls bestrung Down from his mighty shoulders hung. Ten heads he reared,(880) as Mandar's hill Lifts woody peaks which tigers fill, Bright were his eyes, and bright, beneath, The flashes of his awful teeth. His brawny arms of wondrous size Were decked with rings and scented dyes. His hands like snakes with five long heads Descending from their mountain beds. He sat upon a crystal throne Inlaid with wealth of precious stone, Whereon, of noblest work, was set A gold-embroidered coverlet. Behind the monarch stood the best Of beauteous women gaily dressed, And each her giant master fanned, Or waved a chourie in her hand. Four noble courtiers(881) wise and good In counsel, near the monarch stood, As the four oceans ever stand About the sea-encompassed land. Still, though his heart with rage was fired, The Vanar marvelled and admired: "O what a rare and wondrous sight! What beauty, majesty, and might! All regal pomp combines to grace This ruler of the Rakshas race. He, if he scorned not right and law, Might guide the world with tempered awe: Yea, Indra and the Gods on high Might on his saving power rely."

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

Sumantra went. Then Rama came, And Lakshman, and the Maithil dame, And, as he led them on, their guide Straight to the monarch's presence hied. When yet far off the father saw His son with raised palms toward him draw, Girt by his ladies, sick with woes, Swift from his royal seat he rose. With all his strength the aged man To meet his darling Rama ran, But trembling, wild with dark despair, Fell on the ground and fainted there. And Lakshman, wont in cars to ride, And Rama, threw them by the side Of the poor miserable king, Half lifeless with his sorrow's sting. Throughout the spacious hall up went A thousand women's wild lament: "Ah Rama!" thus they wailed and wept, And anklets tinkled as they stepped Around his body, weeping, threw Their loving arms the brothers two, And then, with Sita's gentle aid, The king upon a couch was laid. At length to earth's imperial lord, When life and knowledge were restored, Though seas of woe went o'er his head, With suppliant hand, thus Rama said: "Lord of us all, great King, thou art: Bid me farewell before we part, To Dandak wood this day I go: One blessing and one look bestow. Let Lakshman my companion be, And Sita also follow me. With truthful pleas I sought to bend Their purpose; but no ear they lend. Now cast this sorrow from thy heart, And let us all, great King, depart. As Brahma sends his children, so Let Lakshman, me, and Sita go."

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

Wise Visvamitra's tale was done: Then sainted Gautam's eldest son, Great Satananda, far-renowned, Whom long austerities had crowned With glory--as the news he heard The down upon his body stirred,-- Filled full of wonder at the sight Of Rama, felt supreme delight. When Satananda saw the pair Of youthful princes seated there, He turned him to the holy man Who sate at ease, and thus began: "And didst thou, mighty Sage, in truth Show clearly to this royal youth My mother, glorious far and wide, Whom penance-rites have sanctified? And did my glorious mother--she, Heiress of noble destiny-- Serve her great guest with woodland store, Whom all should honour evermore? Didst thou the tale to Rama tell Of what in ancient days befell, The sin, the misery, and the shame Of guilty God and faithless dame? And, O thou best of hermits, say, Did Rama's healing presence stay Her trial? was the wife restored Again to him, my sire and lord? Say, Hermit, did that sire of mine Receive her with a soul benign, When long austerities in time Had cleansed her from the taint of crime? And, son of Kusik, let me know, Did my great-minded father show Honour to Rama, and regard, Before he journeyed hitherward?" The hermit with attentive ear Marked all the questions of the seer: To him for eloquence far-famed, His eloquent reply he framed: "Yea, 'twas my care no task to shun, And all I had to do was done; As Renuka and Bhrigu's child, The saint and dame were reconciled."

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

He spoke: the conquering Lakshman heard, Obedient to his brother's word. Raised by his toil a cottage stood To shelter Rama in the wood, Of ample size, with leaves o'erlaid, Of hardened earth the walls were made. The strong bamboos his hands had felled For pillars fair the roof upheld, And rafter, beam, and lath supplied Well interwrought from side to side. Then Sami(451) boughs he deftly spread Enlaced with knotted cord o'erhead, Well thatched above from ridge to eaves With holy grass, and reed, and leaves. The mighty chief with careful toil Had cleared the ground and smoothed the soil Where now, his loving labour done, Rose a fair home for Raghu's son. Then when his work was duly wrought, Godavaris sweet stream he sought, Bathed, plucked the lilies, and a store Of fruit and berries homeward bore. Then sacrifice he duly paid, And wooed the Gods their hopes to aid, And then to Rama proudly showed The cot prepared for his abode. Then Raghu's son with Sita gazed Upon the home his hands had raised, And transport thrilled his bosom through His leafy hermitage to view. The glorious son of Raghu round His brother's neck his arms enwound, And thus began his sweet address Of deep-felt joy and gentleness: "Well pleased am I, dear lord, to see This noble work performed by thee. For this,--sole grace I can bestow,-- About thy neck mine arms I throw. So wise art thou, thy breast is filled With grateful thoughts, in duty skilled, Our mighty father, free from stain, In thee, his offspring, lives again."

"You ne'er can raise the dead to bliss By agony of grief like this. Cease your lament, nor leave undone The funeral task you may not shun. As nature orders o'er the dead. Your tributary tears are shed, But Fate, directing each event, Is still the lord preeminent. Yes, all obey the changeless laws Of Fate the universal cause. By Fate, the lives of all proceed, That governs every word and deed, None acts, none sees his hest obeyed, But each and all by Fate are swayed. The world its ordered course maintains, And o'er that course Fate ever reigns. Fate ne'er exceeds the rule of Fate: Is ne'er too swift, is ne'er too late, And making nature its ally Forgets no life, nor passes by. No kith and kin, no power and force Can check or stay its settled course, No friend or client, grace or charm, That victor of the world disarm. So all who see with prudent eyes The hand of Fate must recognize, For virtue rules, or love, or gain, As Fate's unchanged decrees ordain. Bali has died and won the meed That waits in heaven on noble deed, Throned in the seats the brave may reach By liberal hand and gentle speech, True to a warrior's duty, bold In fight, the hero lofty-souled Deigned not to guard his life: he died, And now in heaven is glorified. Then cease these tears and wild despair: Turn to the task that claims your care, For Bali's is the glorious fate Which warriors count most fortunate."

On the bare earth the lady sank, And trembling from their presence shrank Like a strayed fawn, when night is dark, And hungry wolves around her bark. Then to a shady tree she crept, And thought upon her lord and wept. By fear and bitter woe oppressed She bathed the beauties of her breast With her hot tears' incessant flow, And found no respite from her woe. As shakes a plantain in the breeze She shook, and fell on trembling knees; While at each demon's furious look Her cheek its native hue forsook. She lay and wept and made her moan In sorrow's saddest undertone, And, wild with grief, with fear appalled, On Rama and his brother called: "O dear Kausalya,(842) hear me cry! Sweet Queen Sumitra,(843) list my sigh! True is the saw the wise declare: Death comes not to relieve despair. 'Tis vain for dame or man to pray; Death will not hear before his day; Since I, from Rama's sight debarred, And tortured by my cruel guard, Still live in hopeless woe to grieve And loathe the life I may not leave, Here, like a poor deserted thing, My limbs upon the ground I fling, And, like a bark beneath the blast, Shall sink oppressed with woes at last. Ah, blest are they, supremely blest, Whose eyes upon my lord may rest; Who mark his lion port, and hear His gentle speech that charms the ear. Alas, what antenatal crime, What trespass of forgotten time Weighs on my soul, and bids me bow Beneath this load of misery now?"