Ramayana on Worship

The boy's address the monarch cheered, And soon the sacred ground he neared. The convocation's high decree Declared the youth from blemish free; Clothed in red raiment he was tied A victim at the pillar's side. There bound, the Fire-God's hymn he raised, And Indra and Upendra praised. Thousand-eyed Vishnu, pleased to hear The mystic laud, inclined his ear, And won by worship, swift to save, Long life to Sunahsepha gave. The king in bounteous measure gained The fruit of sacrifice ordained, By grace of Him who rules the skies, Lord Indra of the thousand eyes.

Thus Rama spake. And Trijat prayed For means his sacrifice to aid. And Rama gave much wealth, required To speed his offering as desired.

There faint and bleeding fast, apart Stood Ravan raging in his heart. Then, moved with ruth for Rama's sake, Agastya(999) came and gently spake: "Bend, Rama, bend thy heart and ear The everlasting truth to hear Which all thy hopes through life will bless And crown thine arms with full success. The rising sun with golden rays, Light of the worlds, adore and praise: The universal king, the lord By hosts of heaven and fiends adored. He tempers all with soft control, He is the Gods' diviner soul; And Gods above and fiends below And men to him their safety owe. He Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, he Each person of the glorious Three, Is every God whose praise we tell, The King of Heaven,(1000) the Lord of Hell:(1001) Each God revered from times of old, The Lord of War,(1002) the King of Gold:(1003) Mahendra, Time and Death is he, The Moon, the Ruler of the Sea.(1004) He hears our praise in every form,-- The manes,(1005) Gods who ride the storm,(1006) The Asvins,(1007) Manu,(1008) they who stand Round Indra,(1009) and the Sadhyas'(1010) band He is the air, and life and fire, The universal source and sire: He brings the seasons at his call, Creator, light, and nurse of all. His heavenly course he joys to run, Maker of Day, the golden sun. The steeds that whirl his car are seven,(1011) The flaming steeds that flash through heaven. Lord of the sky, the conqueror parts The clouds of night with glistering darts. He, master of the Vedas' lore, Commands the clouds' collected store: He is the rivers' surest friend; He bids the rains, and they descend. Stars, planets, constellations own Their monarch of the golden throne. Lord of twelve forms,(1012) to thee I bow, Most glorious King of heaven art thou. O Rama, he who pays aright Due worship to the Lord of Light Shall never fall oppressed by ill, But find a stay and comfort still. Adore with all thy heart and mind This God of Gods, to him resigned; And thou his saving power shalt know Victorious o'er thy giant foe."

Then Rama bathed in order due, His mind from worldly thoughts withdrew, And with his large-eyed wife besought Narayan, as a votary ought. Upon his head the brimming cup Of holy oil he lifted up, Then placed within the kindled fire The offering to that heavenly Sire, And as he sipped the remnant prayed To Him for blessing and for aid. Then with still lips and tranquil mind With his Videhan he reclined, In Vishnu's chapel, on a bed Where holy grass was duly spread, While still the prince's every thought The God supreme, Narayan, sought. One watch remained the night to close When Rama from his couch arose, And bade the men and maids adorn His palace for the solemn morn. He heard the bards and heralds raise Auspicious strains of joy and praise; And breathed devout, with voice restrained, The hymn for morning rites ordained; Then, with his head in reverence bowed, Praised Madhu's conquering foe aloud, And, in pure linen robes arrayed, The priests to raise their voices prayed. Obedient to the summons they Proclaimed to all the festal day. The Brahmans' voices, deep and sweet, Resounded through the crowded street, And echoed through Ayodhya went By many a loud-toned instrument. Then all the people joyed to hear That Rama with his consort dear Had fasted till the morning light In preparation for the rite. Swiftly the joyful tidings through Ayodhya's crowded city flew, And soon as dawn appeared, each man To decorate the town began. In all the temples bright and fair As white clouds towering in the air, In streets, and where the cross-ways met, Where holy fig-trees had been set, In open square, in sacred shade, Where merchants' shops their wealth displayed, On all the mansions of the great, And householders of wealth and state, Where'er the people loved to meet, Where'er a tree adorned the street, Gay banners floated to the wind, And ribands round the staves were twined. Then clear the singers' voices rang, As, charming mind and ear, they sang.

The Dewy Season(85) came and went; The spring returned again: Then would the king, with mind intent, His sacrifice ordain. He came to Rishyasring, and bowed To him of look divine, And bade him aid his offering vowed For heirs, to save his line. Nor would the youth his aid deny: He spake the monarch fair, And prayed him for that rite so high All requisites prepare. The king to wise Sumantra cried Who stood aye ready near; "Go summon quick each holy guide, To counsel and to hear." Obedient to his lord's behest Away Sumantra sped, And brought Vasishtha and the rest, In Scripture deeply read. Suyajna, Vamadeva came, Javali, Kasyap's son, And old Vasishtha, dear to fame, Obedient every one. King Dasaratha met them there And duly honoured each, And spoke in pleasant words his fair And salutary speech: "In childless longing doomed to pine, No happiness, O lords, is mine. So have I for this cause decreed To slay the sacrificial steed. Fain would I pay that offering high Wherein the horse is doomed to die, With Rishyasring his aid to lend, And with your glory to befriend." With loud applause each holy man Received his speech, approved the plan, And, by the wise Vasishtha led, Gave praises to the king, and said: "The sons thou cravest shalt thou see, Of fairest glory, born to thee, Whose holy feelings bid thee take This righteous course for offspring's sake." Cheered by the ready praise of those Whose aid he sought, his spirits rose, And thus the king his speech renewed With looks of joy and gratitude: "Let what the coming rites require Be ready as the priests desire, And let the horse, ordained to bleed, With fitting guard and priest, be freed,(86) Yonder on Sarju's northern side The sacrificial ground provide; And let the saving rites, that naught Ill-omened may occur, be wrought. The offering I announce to-day Each lord of earth may claim to pay, Provided that his care can guard The holy rite by flaws unmarred.

The circling year had filled its course, And back was brought the wandering horse: Then upon Sarju's northern strand Began the rite the king had planned. With Rishyasring the forms to guide, The Brahmans to their task applied, At that great offering of the steed Their lofty-minded king decreed. The priests, who all the Scripture knew, Performed their part in order due, And circled round in solemn train As precepts of the law ordain. Pravargya rites(92) were duly sped: For Upasads(93) the flames were fed. Then from the plant(94) the juice was squeezed, And those high saints with minds well pleased Performed the mystic rites begun With bathing ere the rise of sun They gave the portion Indra's claim, And hymned the King whom none can blame. The mid-day bathing followed next, Observed as bids the holy text. Then the good priests with utmost care, In form that Scripture's rules declare, For the third time pure water shed On high souled Dasaratha's head. Then Rishyasring and all the rest To Indra and the Gods addressed Their sweet-toned hymn of praise and prayer, And called them in the rite to share. With sweetest song and hymn entoned They gave the Gods in heaven enthroned, As duty bids, the gifts they claim, The holy oil that feeds the flame. And many an offering there was paid, And not one slip in all was made. For with most careful heed they saw That all was done by Veda law. None, all those days, was seen oppressed By hunger or by toil distressed. Why speak of human kind? No beast Was there that lacked an ample feast. For there was store for all who came, For orphan child and lonely dame; The old and young were well supplied, The poor and hungry satisfied. Throughout the day ascetics fed, And those who roam to beg their bread: While all around the cry was still, "Give forth, give forth," and "Eat your fill." "Give forth with liberal hand the meal, And various robes in largess deal."

Thus with due praise the long-eyed dame, Ennobled by her spotless fame, With wreaths of flowers and precious scent Worshipped the Gods, most reverent. A high-souled Brahman lit the fire, And offered, at the queen's desire, The holy oil ordained to burn For Rama's weal and safe return. Kausalya best of dames, with care Set oil, wreaths, fuel, mustard, there. Then when the rites of fire had ceased, For Rama's bliss and health, the priest, Standing without gave what remained In general offering,(299) as ordained. Dealing among the twice-horn train Honey, and curds, and oil, and grain, He bade each heart and voice unite To bless the youthful anchorite. Then Rama's mother, glorious dame Bestowed, to meet the Brahman's claim, A lordly fee for duty done: And thus again addressed her son:

Impelled by furious anger, he Spoiled Nandan's(486) shade and Nalini, And Chaitraratha's heavenly grove, The haunts where Gods delight to rove. Tall as a hill that cleaves the sky, He raised his mighty arms on high To check the blessed moon, and stay The rising of the Lord of Day. Ten thousand years the giant spent On dire austerities intent, And of his heads an offering, laid Before the Self-existent, made. No God or fiend his life could take, Gandharva, goblin, bird, or snake: Safe from all fears of death, except From human arm, that life was kept. Oft when the priests began to raise Their consecrating hymns of praise, He spoiled the Soma's sacred juice Poured forth by them in solemn use. The sacrifice his hands o'erthrew, And cruelly the Brahmans slew. His was a heart that naught could melt, Joying in woes which others felt.

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

So Bharat with his army spent The watches of the night content, And gladly, with the morning's light Drew near his host the anchorite. When Bharadvaja saw him stand With hand in reverence joined to hand, When fires of worship had been fed, He looked upon the prince and said: "O blameless son, I pray thee tell, Did the past night content thee well? Say if the feast my care supplied Thy host of followers gratified."

Such were the words the bard addressed, With weight of sage advice impressed; And, as he heard, the hapless king Felt deeper yet his sorrow's sting. At length, all joy and comfort fled, He raised his eyes with weeping red, And, mournful for his Rama's sake, The good and glorious monarch spake: "Why seek with idle praise to greet The wretch for whom no praise is meet? Thy words mine aching bosom tear, And plunge me deeper in despair."

The nymph received with pleasant speech Her daughters; and, embracing each, Upon their forms she fondly gazed, And royal Kusanabha praised.

Then was the rite begun with care: All requisites and means were there: And glorious Visvamitra lent His willing aid as president. And all the sacred rites were done By rule and use, omitting none. By chaplain-priest, the hymns who knew, In decent form and order due. Some time in sacrifice had past, And Visvamitra made, at last, The solemn offering with the prayer That all the Gods might come and share. But the Immortals, one and all, Refused to hear the hermit's call.

Thus by the General Sire addressed, Joy and high triumph filled his breast. His head in adoration bowed, Thus spoke he to the Immortal crowd: "If I, ye Gods, have gained at last Both length of days and Brahman caste, Grant that the high mysterious name, And holy Vedas, own my claim, And that the formula to bless The sacrifice, its lord confess. And let Vasishtha, who excels In Warriors' art and mystic spells, In love of God without a peer, Confirm the boon you promise here."

Then to the prince his grandson, bright With his own fame's unborrowed light, King Sagar thus began to say, Marvelling at his sons' delay: "Thou art a warrior skilled and bold, Match for the mighty men of old. Now follow on thine uncles' course And track the robber of the horse. To guard thee take thy sword and bow, for huge and strong are beasts below. There to the reverend reverence pay, And kill the foes who check thy way; Then turn successful home and see My sacrifice complete through thee."

But sage Vibhishan strove to calm The chieftains' fury; palm to palm He joined in lowly reverence, pressed(915) Before them, and the throng addressed:

The mighty saint, with glory crowned, With all the sages compassed round, Praised by the Gods, gave full assent, And Gods and sages homeward went.

He soothed her thus, firm to the last His counsel to his brother told: Then round the queen in reverence passed, And held her in his loving hold.

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

The monarch watched the sacred rite, When a vast form of awful might, Of matchless splendour, strength, and size Was manifest before his eyes. From forth the sacrificial flame, Dark, robed in red, the being came. His voice was drumlike, loud and low, His face suffused with rosy glow. Like a huge lion's mane appeared The long locks of his hair and beard. He shone with many a lucky sign, And many an ornament divine; A towering mountain in his height, A tiger in his gait and might. No precious mine more rich could be, No burning flame more bright than he. His arms embraced in loving hold, Like a dear wife, a vase of gold Whose silver lining held a draught Of nectar as in heaven is quaffed: A vase so vast, so bright to view, They scarce could count the vision true. Upon the king his eyes he bent, And said: "The Lord of life has sent His servant down, O Prince, to be A messenger from heaven to thee." The king with all his nobles by Raised reverent hands and made reply: "Welcome, O glorious being! Say How can my care thy grace repay." Envoy of Him whom all adore Thus to the king he spake once more: "The Gods accept thy worship: they Give thee the blessed fruit to-day. Approach and take, O glorious King, This heavenly nectar which I bring, For it shall give thee sons and wealth, And bless thee with a store of health. Give it to those fair queens of thine, And bid them quaff the drink divine: And they the princely sons shall bear Long sought by sacrifice and prayer."

To thee, fair Queen, my head shall bend, To thee shall hymns of praise ascend, When my brave lord shall turn again, And, joyful, o'er his kingdom reign. To win thy grace, O Queen divine, A hundred thousand fairest kine, And precious robes and finest meal Among the Brahmans will I deal. A hundred jars of wine shall flow, When to my home, O Queen, I go; With these, and flesh, and corn, and rice, Will I, delighted, sacrifice. Each hallowed spot, each holy shrine That stands on these fair shores of thine, Each fane and altar on thy banks Shall share my offerings and thanks. With me and Lakshman, free from harm, May he the blameless, strong of arm, Reseek Ayodhya from the wild, O blameless Lady undefiled!"

Long years flew by. The king decreed To slay a sacrificial steed. Consulting with his priestly band He vowed the rite his soul had planned, And, Veda skilled, by their advice Made ready for the sacrifice.

Thus having sung, the shining train Turned to their heavenly homes again. Then the high saints of royal race And loftiest station sought the place, And by the great Agastya led, With reverence to Rama said:

sixty thousand hills of gold With wondering eyes shall ye behold, Where in his glory every one Is brilliant as the morning sun. Full in the midst King Meru,(725) best Of mountains, lifts his lofty crest, On whom of yore, as all have heard, The sun well-pleased this boon conferred: "On thee, O King, on thee and thine Light, day and night, shall ever shine. Gandharvas, Gods who love thee well And on thy sacred summits dwell, Undimmed in lustre, bright and fair, The golden sheen shall ever share." The Visvas,(726) Vasus,(727) they who ride The tempest,(728) every God beside, Draw nigh to Meru's lofty crest When evening darkens in the west, And to the parting Lord of Day The homage of their worship pay, Ere yet a while, unseen of all, Behind Mount Asta's(729) peaks he fall. Wrought by the heavenly artist's care A glorious palace glitters there, And round about it sweet birds sing Where the gay trees are blossoming: The home of Varun(730) high-souled lord, Wrist-girded with his deadly cord.(731) With ten tall stems, a palm between Meru and Asta's hill is seen: Pure silver from the base it springs, And far and wide its lustre flings. Seek Ravan and the dame by brook, In pathless glen, in leafy nook On Meru's crest a hermit lives Bright with the light that penance gives: Savarni(732) is he named, renowned As Brahma's peer, with glory crowned. There bowing down in reverence speak And ask him of the dame you seek. Thus far the splendid Lord of Day Pursues through heaven his ceaseless way, Shedding on every spot his light; Then sinks behind Mount Asta's height, Thus far advance: the sunless sea Beyond is all unknown to me. Sushen of mighty arm, long tried In peril, shall your legions guide. Receive his words with high respect, And ne'er his lightest wish neglect. He is my consort's sire, and hence Deserves the utmost reverence."

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."

The hermit ceased. The tuneful pair, Like heavenly minstrels sweet and fair, In music's art divinely skilled, Their saintly master's word fulfilled. Like Rama's self, from whom they came, They showed their sire in face and frame, As though from some fair sculptured stone Two selfsame images had grown. Sometimes the pair rose up to sing, Surrounded by a holy ring, Where seated on the grass had met Full many a musing anchoret. Then tears bedimmed those gentle eyes, As transport took them and surprise, And as they listened every one Cried in delight, Well done! Well done! Those sages versed in holy lore Praised the sweet minstrels more and more: And wondered at the singers' skill, And the bard's verses sweeter still, Which laid so clear before the eye The glorious deeds of days gone by. Thus by the virtuous hermits praised, Inspirited their voice they raised. Pleased with the song this holy man Would give the youths a water-can; One gave a fair ascetic dress, Or sweet fruit from the wilderness. One saint a black-deer's hide would bring, And one a sacrificial string: One, a clay pitcher from his hoard, And one, a twisted munja cord.(59) One in his joy an axe would find, One braid, their plaited locks to bind. One gave a sacrificial cup, One rope to tie their fagots up; While fuel at their feet was laid, Or hermit's stool of fig-tree made. All gave, or if they gave not, none Forgot at least a benison. Some saints, delighted with their lays, Would promise health and length of days; Others with surest words would add Some boon to make their spirit glad. In such degree of honour then That song was held by holy men: That living song which life can give, By which shall many a minstrel live. In seat of kings, in crowded hall, They sang the poem, praised of all. And Rama chanced to hear their lay, While he the votive steed(60) would slay, And sent fit messengers to bring The minstrel pair before the king.

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."

"False are they all, proved false to-day, The prophets of my fortune, they Who in the tranquil time of old A blessed life for me foretold, Predicting I should never know A childless dame's, a widow's woe, False are they all, their words are vain, For thou, my lord and life, art slain. False was the priest and vain his lore Who blessed me in those days of yore By Rama's side in bliss to reign: For thou, my lord and life, art slain. They hailed me happy from my birth, Proud empress of the lord of earth. They blessed me--but the thought is pain-- For thou, my lord and life, art slain. Ah, fruitless hope! each glorious sign That stamps the future queen is mine, With no ill-omened mark to show A widow's crushing hour of woe. They say my hair is black and fine, They praise my brows' continuous line; My even teeth divided well, My bosom for its graceful swell. They praise my feet and fingers oft; They say my skin is smooth and soft, And call me happy to possess The twelve fair marks that bring success.(955) But ah, what profit shall I gain? Thou, O my lord and life, art slain. The flattering seer in former days My gentle girlish smile would praise, And swear that holy water shed By Brahman hands upon my head Should make me queen, a monarch's bride: How is the promise verified? Matchless in might the brothers slew In Janasthan the giant crew. And forced the indomitable sea To let them pass to rescue me. Theirs was the fiery weapon hurled By him who rules the watery world;(956) Theirs the dire shaft by Indra sped; Theirs was the mystic Brahma's Head.(957) In vain they fought, the bold and brave: A coward's hand their death-wounds gave. By secret shafts and magic spell The brothers, peers of Indra, fell. That foe, if seen by Rama's eye One moment, had not lived to fly. Though swift as thought, his utmost speed Had failed him in the hour of need. No might, no tear, no prayer may stay Fate's dark inevitable day.

He ceased: and Rama thus replied: "Be not this grace, O sire, denied. Those hasty words, that curse revoke Which from thy lips in anger broke: "Kaikeyi, be no longer mine: I cast thee off, both thee and thine." O father, let no sorrow fall On her or hers: thy curse recall." "Yea, she shall live, if so thou wilt," The sire replied, "absolved from guilt." Round Lakshman then his arms he threw, And moved by love began anew: "Great store of merit shall be thine, And brightly shall thy glory shine; Secure on earth thy brother's grace. And high in heaven shall be thy place. Thy glorious king obey and fear: To him the triple world is dear. God, saint, and sage, by Indra led, To Rama bow the reverent head, Nor from the Lord, the lofty-souled, Their worship or their praise withhold. Heart of the Gods, supreme is he, The One who ne'er shall cease to be."

To her, as thus she weeping cried, Raghu's illustrious son replied: "Sita, my honoured sire's decree Commands me to the woods to flee. O high-born lady, nobly bred In the good paths thy footsteps tread, Hear, Janak's daughter, while I tell The story as it all befell. Of old my father true and brave Two boons to Queen Kaikeyi gave. Through these the preparations made For me to-day by her are stayed, For he is bound to disallow This promise by that earlier vow. In Dandak forest wild and vast Must fourteen years by me be passed. My father's will makes Bharat heir, The kingdom and the throne to share. Now, ere the lonely wild I seek, I come once more with thee to speak. In Bharat's presence, O my dame, Ne'er speak with pride of Rama's name: Another's eulogy to hear Is hateful to a monarch's ear. Thou must with love his rule obey To whom my father yields the sway. With love and sweet observance learn His grace, and more the king's, to earn. Now, that my father may not break The words of promise that he spake, To the drear wood my steps are bent: Be firm, good Sita, and content. Through all that time, my blameless spouse, Keep well thy fasts and holy vows. Rise from thy bed at break of day, And to the Gods due worship pay. With meek and lowly love revere The lord of men, my father dear, And reverence to Kausalya show, My mother, worn with eld and woe: By duty's law, O best of dames, High worship from thy love she claims, Nor to the other queens refuse Observance, rendering each her dues: By love and fond attention shown They are my mothers like mine own. Let Bharat and Satrughna bear In thy sweet love a special share: Dear as my life, O let them be Like brother and like son to thee. In every word and deed refrain From aught that Bharat's soul may pain: He is Ayodhya's king and mine, The head and lord of all our line. For those who serve and love them much With weariless endeavour, touch And win the gracious hearts of kings. While wrath from disobedience springs.

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

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)

Some to his feet with reverence pressed, Some in his arms he strained: Each friend, with kindly words addressed, Due share of honour gained. Then, by their mighty woe o'ercome, The weeping heroes' cry Filled, like the roar of many a drum, Hill, cavern, earth, and sky.

"Cease, O beloved, cease to blame Our royal father's second dame. Still speak of Bharat first in place Of old Ikshvaku's princely race. My heart, so firmly bent but now To dwell in woods and keep my vow, Half melting as I hear thee speak Of Bharat's love, grows soft and weak, With tender joy I bring to mind His speeches ever sweet and kind. That dear as Amrit took the sense With most enchanting influence. Ah, when shall I, no more to part, Meet Bharat of the mighty heart? When, O my brother, when shall we The good and brave Satrughna see?" Thus as he poured his fond lament The son of Raghu onward went: They reached the river, and the three Bathed them in fair Godavari. Libations of the stream they paid To every deity and shade, With hymns of praise, the Sun on high And sinless Gods to glorify. Fresh from the purifying tide Resplendent Rama came, With Lakshman ever by his side, And the sweet Maithil dame. So Rudra shines by worlds adored, In glory undefiled, When Nandi(455) stands beside his lord, And King Himalaya's child.(456)

Still grew that child of Janak's race, More goddess-fair in form and face, The loveliest wife that e'er was seen, In mortal mould sweet Beauty's Queen. Then shone the son Kausalya bore, With this bright dame allied, Like Vishnu whom the Gods adore, With Lakshmi by his side.

Kaikeyi's praise the damsel heard, And thus again her lady stirred, Who lay upon her beauteous bed Like fire upon the altar fed: "Dear Queen, they build the bridge in vain When swollen streams are dry again. Arise, thy glorious task complete, And draw the king to thy retreat."

Urged by the lord of men to speak, Whose sobbing voice came faint and weak, Thus he, while tears his utterance broke, In answer to the monarch spoke: "Hear then the words that Rama said, Resolved in duty's path to tread. Joining his hands, his head he bent, And gave this message, reverent: "Sumantra, to my father go, Whose lofty mind all people know: Bow down before him, as is meet, And in my stead salute his feet. Then to the queen my mother bend, And give the greeting that I send: Ne'er may her steps from duty err, And may it still be well with her. And add this word: "O Queen, pursue Thy vows with faithful heart and true; And ever at due season turn Where holy fires of worship burn. And, lady, on our lord bestow Such honour as to Gods we owe. Be kind to every queen: let pride And thought of self be cast aside. In the king's fond opinion raise Kaikeyi, by respect and praise. Let the young Bharat ever be Loved, honoured as the king by thee: Thy king-ward duty ne'er forget: High over all are monarchs set."

High wonder mingled with delight Took the great sages at the sight, Thrilling their breasts who came to view The meeting of the peerless two. The saints and sages' holy train Departed to their home again. And high each holy voice was raised, And thus the glorious brothers praised.

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 Lakshman praised in scornful jest The long-toothed fiend with loathly breast, Who fondly heard his speech, nor knew His mocking words were aught but true. Again inflamed with love she fled To Rama, in his leafy shed Where Sita rested by his side, And to the mighty victor cried:

When Rama and his brother heard The pious prayer the dame preferred, Filled full of transport and amazed They marvelled as her words they praised. Then Rama to the votaress said Whose holy vows were perfected: "Go, lady, where thou fain wouldst be, O thou who well hast honoured me."

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?"

To Rama then they lowly bent, And round him in due reverence went, To his command, they answered, Yea, And as they came so went away. When thus the arms had homeward flown, With pleasant words and modest tone, E'en as he walked, the prince began To question thus the holy man: "What cloudlike wood is that which near The mountain's side I see appear? O tell me, for I long to know; Its pleasant aspect charms me so. Its glades are full of deer at play, And sweet birds sing on every spray, Past is the hideous wild; I feel So sweet a tremor o'er me steal, And hail with transport fresh and new A land that is so fair to view. Then tell me all, thou holy Sage, And whose this pleasant hermitage In which those wicked ones delight To mar and kill each holy rite. And with foul heart and evil deed Thy sacrifice, great Saint, impede. To whom, O Sage, belongs this land In which thine altars ready stand! 'Tis mine to guard them, and to slay The giants who the rites would stay. All this, O best of saints, I burn From thine own lips, my lord, to learn."

The hermits, whom that sight had awed, Extolled the saint, with hymn and laud: "Thy power, O Sage, is ne'er in vain: Now with thy might thy might restrain. Be gracious, Master, and allow The worlds to rest from trouble now; For Visvamitra, strong and dread, By thee has been discomfited."

Then Rama with a cheerful mind The bow to Varun's hand resigned. Due reverence to the saints he paid, And thus addressed his sire dismayed: "As Bhrigu's son is far from view, Now let the host its march pursue, And to Ayodhya's town proceed In four-fold bands, with thee to lead."

As Khara's speech the demon heard, With sudden joy her heart was stirred: She fondly praised him as the boast And glory of the giant host. First moved to ire by taunts and stings, Now soothed by gentle flatterings, To Dushan, who his armies led, The demon Khara spoke, and said:

Before his king with reverence due Dhumraksha bowed him, and withdrew. Around him at his summons came Fierce legions led by chiefs of fame. Well armed with sword and spear and mace, They hurried to the gathering place, And rushed to battle, borne at speed By elephant and car and steed.

Then Rama paid the reverence due, And quickly to his home withdrew. He passed within, nor lingered there, But sought his mother's mansion, where The dame in linen robes arrayed Devoutly in the chapel prayed To Fortune's Queen, with utterance checked, That she her Rama would protect. There was Sumitra too, and there Was Lakshman led by loving care: And when the royal choice they knew Sita in haste was summoned too. Absorbed, with half-shut eyes, the queen Attended by the three was seen. She knew that Pushya's lucky hour Would raise her son to royal power, So fixed with bated breath each thought On God supreme, by all men sought. To her, as thus she knelt and prayed, Rama drew near, due reverence paid, And then to swell his mother's joy, Thus spoke her own beloved boy; "O mother dear, my sire's decree Entrusts the people's weal to me. To-morrow I, for so his will, Anointed king, the throne shall fill. The few last hours till night shall end Sita with me must fasting spend, For so my father has decreed, And holy priests with him agreed. What vows soever thou mayst deem My consecration's eve beseem, Do thou, sweet mother, for my sake And for beloved Sita's make."

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."

"I trust no cares invade thy peace, While holy works and zeal increase; That thou content with scanty food All touch of ire hast long subdued; That all thy vows are well maintained While peace of mind is surely gained, That reverence of the saints who taught Thy faithful heart due fruit has brought."

"Thou Dasaratha's son, hast slain The meaner giants of my train: And canst thou idly vaunt thy might And claim the praise not thine by right? Not thus in self-laudation rave The truly great, the nobly brave: No empty boasts like thine disgrace The foremost of the human race. The mean of soul, unknown to fame, Who taint their warrior race with shame, Thus speak in senseless pride as thou, O Raghu's son, hast boasted now. What hero, when the war-cry rings, Vaunts the high race from which he springs, Or seeks, when warriors meet and die, His own descent to glorify? Weakness and folly show confessed In every vaunt thou utterest, As when the flames fed high with grass Detect the simulating brass. Dost thou not see me standing here Armed with the mighty mace I rear, Firm as an earth upholding hill Whose summit veins of metal fill? Lo, here I stand before thy face To slay thee with my murderous mace, As Death, the universal lord, Stands threatening with his fatal cord. Enough of this. Much more remains That should be said: but time constrains. Ere to his rest the sun descend, And shades of night the combat end, The twice seven thousand of my band Who fell beneath thy bloody hand Shall have their tears all wiped away And triumph in thy fall to-day."

He spoke, and vanished: Rama raised His eyes with reverence meet, and praised The glorious Day-God full in view: Then armed him for the fight anew. Urged onward by his charioteer The giant's foaming steeds came near, And furious was the battle's din Where each resolved to die or win. The Rakshas host and Vanar bands Stood with their weapons in their hands, And watched in terror and dismay The fortune of the awful fray. The giant chief with rage inflamed His darts at Rama's pennon aimed; But when they touched the chariot made By heavenly hands their force was stayed. Then Rama's breast with fury swelled; He strained the mighty bow he held, And straight at Ravan's banner flew An arrow as the string he drew-- A deadly arrow swift of flight, Like some huge snake ablaze with light, Whose fury none might e'er repel,-- And, split in twain, the standard fell. At Rama's steeds sharp arrows, hot With flames of fire, the giant shot. Unmoved the heavenly steeds sustained The furious shower the warrior rained, As though soft lotus tendrils smote Each haughty crest and glossy coat. Then volleyed swift by magic art, Tree, mountain peak and spear and dart, Trident and pike and club and mace Flew hurtling straight at Rama's face. But Rama with his steeds and car Escaped the storm which fell afar Where the strange missiles, as they rushed To earth, a thousand Vanars crushed.

When the fair light of morning rose The princely tamers of their foes Followed, his morning worship o'er, The hermit to the river's shore. The high-souled men with thoughtful care A pretty barge had stationed there. All cried, "O lord, this barge ascend, And with thy princely followers bend To yonder side thy prosperous way With naught to check thee or delay."

But Indrajit, when Bali's son(953) The victory o'er the foe had won, Saw with a fury-kindled eye His mangled steeds and driver die; Then, lost in air, he fled the fight, And vanished from the victor's sight. The Gods and saints glad voices raised, And Angad for his virtue praised; And Raghu's sons bestowed the meed Of honour due to valorous deed.

On piles of holy Fig-tree raised The meaner victims' bodies blazed: The steed, of all the creatures slain, Alone required a pile of cane. Three days, as is by law decreed, Lasted that Offering of the Steed. The Chatushtom began the rite, And when the sun renewed his light, The Ukthya followed: after came The Atiratra's holy flame. These were the rites, and many more Arranged by light of holy lore, The Aptoryam of mighty power, And, each performed in proper hour, The Abhijit and Visvajit With every form and service fit; And with the sacrifice at night The Jyotishtom and Ayus rite.(103) The task was done, as laws prescribe: The monarch, glory of his tribe, Bestowed the land in liberal grants Upon the sacred ministrants. He gave the region of the east, His conquest, to the Hotri priest. The west, the celebrant obtained: The south, the priest presiding gained: The northern region was the share Of him who chanted forth the prayer,(104) Thus did each priest obtain his meed At the great Slaughter of the Steed, Ordained, the best of all to be, By self-existent deity. Ikshvaku's son with joyful mind This noble fee to each assigned, But all the priests with one accord Addressed that unpolluted lord: "Tis thine alone to keep the whole Of this broad earth in firm control. No gift of lands from thee we seek: To guard these realms our hands were weak. On sacred lore our days are spent: Let other gifts our wants content."

Then, thus addressed, the holy man, The very glorious sage, began The high preliminary rite. Restraining sense and appetite. Calmly the youths that night reposed, And rose when morn her light disclosed, Their morning worship paid, and took Of lustral water from the brook. Thus purified they breathed the prayer, Then greeted Visvamitra where As celebrant he sate beside The flame with sacred oil supplied.

As Matali his charioteer Speaks for the Lord of Gods to hear, Sumantra, palm to palm applied, In reverence trained, to Rama cried: "O famous Prince, my car ascend,-- May blessings on thy course attend,-- And swiftly shall my horses flee And place thee where thou biddest me. The fourteen years thou hast to stay Far in the wilds, begin to-day; For Oueen Kaikeyi cries, Away."

Not truth, or gift, or bended knee, Not honour, worship, lordly fee, Storms heaven and wins a blessing thence Like sonly love and reverence. Heaven, riches, grain, and varied lore, With sons and many a blessing more, All these are made their own with ease By those their elders' souls who please. The mighty-souled, who ne'er forget, Devoted sons, their filial debt, Win worlds where Gods and minstrels are, And Brahma's sphere more glorious far. Now as the orders of my sire, Who keeps the way of truth, require, So will I do, for such the way Of duty that endures for aye: To take thee, love, to Dandak's wild My heart at length is reconciled, For thee such earnest thoughts impel To follow, and with me to dwell. O faultless form from feet to brows, Come with me, as my will allows, And duty there with me pursue, Trembler, whose bright eyes thrill me through. In all thy days, come good come ill, Preserve unchanged such noble will, And thou, dear love, wilt ever be The glory of thy house and me. Now, beauteous-armed, begin the tasks The woodland life of hermits asks. For me the joys of heaven above Have charms no more without thee, love. And now, dear Sita, be not slow: Food on good mendicants bestow, And for the holy Brahmans bring Thy treasures and each precious thing. Thy best attire and gems collect, The jewels which thy beauty decked, And every ornament and toy Prepared for hours of sport and joy: The beds, the cars wherein I ride, Among our followers, next, divide."

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