Ramayana on Children

Their strength could shake the hills amain, And rend the rooted trees in twain, Disturb with their impetuous sweep The Rivers' Lord, the Ocean deep, Rend with their feet the seated ground, And pass wide floods with airy bound, Or forcing through the sky their way The very clouds by force could stay. Mad elephants that wander through The forest wilds, could they subdue, And with their furious shout could scare Dead upon earth the birds of air. So were the sylvan chieftains formed; Thousands on thousands still they swarmed. These were the leaders honoured most, The captains of the Vanar host, And to each lord and chief and guide Was monkey offspring born beside. Then by the bears' great monarch stood The other roamers of the wood, And turned, their pathless homes to seek, To forest and to mountain peak. The leaders of the monkey band By the two brothers took their stand, Sugriva, offspring of the Sun And Bali, Indra's mighty one. They both endowed with Garud's might, And skilled in all the arts of fight, Wandered in arms the forest through, And lions, snakes, and tigers, slew. But every monkey, ape, and bear Ever was Bali's special care; With his vast strength and mighty arm He kept them from all scathe and harm. And so the earth with hill, wood, seas, Was filled with mighty ones like these, Of various shape and race and kind, With proper homes to each assigned, With Rama's champions fierce and strong The earth was overspread, High as the hills and clouds, a throng With bodies vast and dread.(124)

At length when many a year had fled, Up floated, on her lotus bed, A maiden fair and tender-eyed, In the young flush of beauty's pride. She shone with pearl and golden sheen, And seals of glory stamped her queen, On each round arm glowed many a gem, On her smooth brows, a diadem. Rolling in waves beneath her crown The glory of her hair flowed down, Pearls on her neck of price untold, The lady shone like burnisht gold. Queen of the Gods, she leapt to land, A lotus in her perfect hand, And fondly, of the lotus-sprung, To lotus-bearing Vishnu clung. Her Gods above and men below As Beauty's Queen and Fortune know.(210) Gods, Titans, and the minstrel train Still churned and wrought the troubled main. At length the prize so madly sought, The Amrit, to their sight was brought. For the rich spoil, 'twixt these and those A fratricidal war arose, And, host 'gainst host in battle, set, Aditi's sons and Diti's met. United, with the giants' aid, Their fierce attack the Titans made, And wildly raged for many a day That universe-astounding fray. When wearied arms were faint to strike, And ruin threatened all alike, Vishnu, with art's illusive aid, The Amrit from their sight conveyed. That Best of Beings smote his foes Who dared his deathless arm oppose: Yea, Vishnu, all-pervading God, Beneath his feet the Titans trod Aditi's race, the sons of light, slew Diti's brood in cruel fight. Then town-destroying(211) Indra gained His empire, and in glory reigned O'er the three worlds with bard and sage Rejoicing in his heritage.

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."

When Sita heard Kausalya's speech Her duty and her gain to teach, She joined her palms with reverent grace And gave her answer face to face: "All will I do, forgetting naught, Which thou, O honoured Queen, hast taught. I know, have heard, and deep have stored The rules of duty to my lord. Not me, good Queen, shouldst thou include Among the faithless multitude. Its own sweet light the moon shall leave Ere I to duty cease to cleave. The stringless lute gives forth no strain, The wheelless car is urged in vain; No joy a lordless dame, although Blest with a hundred sons, can know. From father, brother, and from son A measured share of joy is won: Who would not honour, love, and bless Her lord, whose gifts are measureless? Thus trained to think, I hold in awe Scripture's command and duty's law. Him can I hold in slight esteem? Her lord is woman's God, I deem." Kausalya heard the lady's speech, Nor failed those words her heart to reach. Then, pure in mind, she gave to flow The tear that sprang of joy and woe. Then duteous Rama forward came And stood before the honoured dame, And joining reverent hands addressed The queen in rank above the rest: "O mother, from these tears refrain; Look on my sire and still thy pain. To thee my days afar shall fly As if sweet slumber closed thine eye, And fourteen years of exile seem To thee, dear mother, like a dream. On me returning safe and well, Girt by my friends, thine eyes shall dwell."

The king a while had senseless lain, When care brought memory back again. Then straight he called, the news to hear Of Rama, for the charioteer, With reverent hand to hand applied He waited by the old man's side, Whose mind with anguish was distraught Like a great elephant newly caught. The king with bitter pain distressed The faithful charioteer addressed, Who, sad of mien, with flooded eye, And dust upon his limbs, stood by: "Where will be Rama's dwelling now At some tree's foot, beneath the bough; Ah, what will be the exile's food, Bred up with kind solicitude? Can he, long lapped in pleasant rest, Unmeet for pain, by pain oppressed, Son of earth's king, his sad night spend Earth-couched, as one that has no friend? Behind him, when abroad he sped, Cars, elephant, and foot were led: Then how shall Rama dwell afar In the wild woods where no men are? How, tell me, did the princes there, With Sita good and soft and fair, Alighting from the chariot, tread The forest wilds around them spread? A happy lot is thine, I ween, Whose eyes my two dear sons have seen Seeking on foot the forest shade, Like the bright Twins to view displayed, The heavenly Asvins, when they seek The woods that hang 'neath Mandar's peak. What words, Sumantra, quickly tell, From Rama, Lakshman, Sita fell? How in the wood did Rama eat? What was his bed, and what his seat? Full answer to my questions give, For I on thy replies shall live, As with the saints Yayati held Sweet converse, from the skies expelled."

But doubt within her bosom woke As to the Lord of Gods she spoke: "How may I know for truth that thou Whose form I see before me now Art verily the King adored By heavenly Gods, and Sachi's lord? With Raghu's sons I learnt to know The certain signs which Godhead show. These marks before mine eyes display If o'er the Gods thou bear the sway."

She heard their speech as, sore afraid, Arrested in their flight, they stayed, And gave her answer as became The spirit of so true a dame: "Nay, what have I to do with pelf, With son, with kingdom, or with self, When he, my noble lord, who leads The Vanars like a lion, bleeds? His high-souled victor will I meet, And throw me prostrate at his feet."

Scarce would they hear: they would not stay, And basely spoke in wild dismay: "Have we not fought, and fought in vain Have we not seen our mightiest slain? The giant's matchless force we fear, And fly because our lives are dear." But Bali's son with gentle art Dispelled their dread and cheered each heart. They turned and formed and waited still Obedient to the prince's will.

He ended. To the princely youth Who loved the right and spoke the truth, Cruel, abominable came The answer of the ruthless dame: "When Gods and Titans fought of yore, Transfixed with darts and bathed in gore Two boons to me thy father gave For the dear life 'twas mine to save. Of him I claim the ancient debt, That Bharat on the throne be set, And thou, O Rama, go this day To Dandak forest far away. Now, Rama, if thou wilt maintain Thy father's faith without a stain, And thine own truth and honour clear, Then, best of men, my bidding hear. Do thou thy father's word obey, Nor from the pledge he gave me stray. Thy life in Dandak forest spend Till nine long years and five shall end. Upon my Bharat's princely head Let consecrating drops be shed, With all the royal pomp for thee Made ready by the king's decree. Seek Dandak forest and resign Rites that would make the empire thine, For twice seven years of exile wear The coat of bark and matted hair. Then in thy stead let Bharat reign Lord of his royal sire's domain, Rich in the fairest gems that shine, Cars, elephants, and steeds, and kine. The monarch mourns thy altered fate And vails his brow compassionate: Bowed down by bitter grief he lies And dares not lift to thine his eyes. Obey his word: be firm and brave, And with great truth the monarch save." While thus with cruel words she spoke, No grief the noble youth betrayed; But forth the father's anguish broke, At his dear Rama's lot dismayed.

"Woe! woe!" from the sad monarch burst, In surging floods of grief immersed; Then swooning, with his wits astray, Upon the gold-wrought couch he lay, And Rama raised the aged king: But the stern queen, unpitying, Checked not her needless words, nor spared The hero for all speed prepared, But urged him with her bitter tongue, Like a good horse with lashes stung, She spoke her shameful speech. Serene He heard the fury of the queen, And to her words so vile and dread Gently, unmoved in mind, he said: "I would not in this world remain A grovelling thrall to paltry gain, But duty's path would fain pursue, True as the saints themselves are true. From death itself I would not fly My father's wish to gratify, What deed soe'er his loving son May do to please him, think it done. Amid all duties, Queen, I count This duty first and paramount, That sons, obedient, aye fulfil Their honoured fathers' word and will. Without his word, if thou decree, Forth to the forest will I flee, And there shall fourteen years be spent Mid lonely wilds in banishment. Methinks thou couldst not hope to find One spark of virtue in my mind, If thou, whose wish is still my lord, Hast for this grace the king implored. This day I go, but, ere we part, Must cheer my Sita's tender heart, To my dear mother bid farewell; Then to the woods, a while to dwell. With thee, O Queen, the care must rest That Bharat hear his sire's behest, And guard the land with righteous sway, For such the law that lives for aye."

Filled by his speech with joy and pride, Rama to Lakshman thus replied: "Go then, my brother, bid adieu To all thy friends and retinue. And those two bows of fearful might, Celestial, which, at that famed rite, Lord Varun gave to Janak, king Of fair Vedeha with thee bring, With heavenly coats of sword-proof mail, Quivers, whose arrows never fail, And golden-hilted swords so keen, The rivals of the sun in sheen. Tended with care these arms are all Preserved in my preceptor's hall. With speed, O Lakshman, go, produce, And bring them hither for our use." So on a woodland life intent, To see his faithful friends he went, And brought the heavenly arms which lay By Rama's teacher stored away. And Raghu's son to Rama showed Those wondrous arms which gleamed and glowed, Well kept, adorned with many a wreath Of flowers on case, and hilt, and sheath. The prudent Rama at the sight Addressed his brother with delight: "Well art thou come, my brother dear, For much I longed to see thee here. For with thine aid, before I go, I would my gold and wealth bestow Upon the Brahmans sage, who school Their lives by stern devotion's rule. And for all those who ever dwell Within my house and serve me well, Devoted servants, true and good, Will I provide a livelihood. Quick, go and summon to this place The good Vasishtha's son, Suyajna, of the Brahman race The first and holiest one. To all the Brahmans wise and good Will I due reverence pay, Then to the solitary wood With thee will take my way."

Where Rama stands is naught to fear, No danger comes if he be near; For all who live on him depend, The world's support, and lord, and friend. Ere in too distant wilds he stray, Let us to Rama speed away, For rich reward on those will wait Who serve a prince of soul so great. We will attend on Sita there; Be Raghu's son your special care."

The wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high, Dark clouds of dust involved the sky. In doleful twitter long sustained The restless Sarikas(462) complained, And from the heavens with flash and flame Terrific meteors roaring came. Earth to her deep foundation shook With rock and tree and plain and brook, As Khara with triumphant shout, Borne in his chariot, sallied out. His left arm throbbed: he knew full well That omen, and his visage fell. Each awful sign the giant viewed, And sudden tears his eye bedewed. Care on his brow sat chill and black, Yet mad with wrath he turned not back. Upon each fearful sight that raised The shuddering hair the chieftain gazed, And laughing in his senseless pride Thus to his giant legions cried: "By sense of mightiest strength upborne, These feeble signs I laugh to scorn. I could bring down the stars that shine In heaven with these keen shafts of mine. Impelled by warlike fury I Could cause e'en Death himself to die. I will not seek my home again Until my pointed shafts have slain This Raghu's son so fierce in pride, And Lakshman by his brother's side. And she, my sister, she for whom These sons of Raghu meet their doom, She with delighted lips shall drain The lifeblood of her foemen slain. Fear not for me: I ne'er have known Defeat, in battle overthrown. Fear not for me, O giants; true Are the proud words I speak to you. The king of Gods who rules on high, If wild Airavat bore him nigh, Should fall before me bolt in hand: And shall these two my wrath withstand!"

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

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

But soon the baseless thought was spurned And longing hope again returned: "No: Rama's wife is none of these, No careless dame that lives at ease. Her widowed heart has ceased to care For dress and sleep and dainty fare. She near a lover ne'er would lie Though Indra wooed her from the sky. Her own, her only lord, whom none Can match in heaven, is Raghu's son."

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."

Thus spoke the monarch, lofty-souled, The saint, of heart unfathomed, told How, sons of Dasaratha, they Accompanied his homeward way, How in the hermitage they dwelt, And slaughter to the demons dealt: Their journey till the spot they neared Whence fair Visala's towers appeared: Ahalya seen and freed from taint; Their meeting with her lord the saint; And how they thither came, to know The virtue of the famous bow.

The long-eyed lady ceased: she shed Pure scent and grain upon his head. And that prized herb whose sovereign power Preserves from dark misfortune's hour, Upon the hero's arm she set, To be his faithful amulet. While holy texts she murmured low, And spoke glad words though crushed by woe, Concealing with obedient tongue The pangs with which her heart was wrung. She bent, she kissed his brow, she pressed Her darling to her troubled breast: "Firm in thy purpose, go," she cried, "Go Rama, and may bliss betide. Attain returning safe and well, Triumphant in Ayodhya, dwell. Then shall my happy eyes behold The empire by thy will controlled. Then grief and care shall leave no trace, Joy shall light up thy mother's face, And I shall see my darling reign, In moonlike glory come again. These eyes shall fondly gaze on thee So faithful to thy sire's decree, When thou the forest wild shalt quit On thine ancestral throne to sit. Yea, thou shalt turn from exile back, Nor choicest blessings ever lack, Then fill with rapture ever new My bosom and thy consort's too. To Siva and the heavenly host My worship has been paid, To mighty saint, to godlike ghost, To every wandering shade. Forth to the forest thou wilt hie, Therein to dwell so long: Let all the quarters of the sky Protect my child from wrong." Her blessings thus the queen bestowed; Then round him fondly paced, And often, while her eyes o'erflowed, Her dearest son embraced. Kausalya's honoured feet he pressed, As round her steps she bent, And radiant with her prayers that blessed, To Sita's home he went.

Then Bharat rose: his hand he dipped, And purifying water sipped: "Each citizen," he cried, "give ear, Attend, each counsellor and peer. My mother planned, by me untaught, To win the sway I never sought: Ne'er Raghu's son could I despise, In duty's lore supremely wise. Now if obedience to our sire This dwelling in the woods require, I, till the destined years be spent, Will dwell alone in banishment."

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.

See, Lakshman, see before our cave That clear brook eastward roll its wave As though 'twere Ganga's infant rill Down streaming from the three-peaked hill. See, by the water's gentle flow Asoka, sal, and sandal grow. And every lovely tree most fair With leaf and bud and flower is there. See there, beneath the bending trees That fringe her bank, the river flees, Clothed with their beauty like a maid In all her robes and gems arrayed, While from the sedgy banks are heard The soft notes of each amorous bird. O see what lovely islets stud Like gems the bosom of the flood, And sarases and wild swans crowd About her till she laughs aloud. See, lotus blooms the brook o'erspread, Some tender blue, some dazzling red, And opening lilies white as snow Their buds in rich profusion show. There rings the joyous peacock's scream, There stands the curlew by the stream, And holy hermits love to throng Where the sweet waters speed along. Ranged on the grassy margin shine Gay sandal trees in glittering line, And all the wondrous verdure seems The offspring of creative dreams. O conquering Prince, there cannot be A lovelier place than this we see. Here sheltered on the beauteous height Our days will pass in calm delight. Nor is Kishkindha's city, gay With grove and garden, far away. Thence will the breeze of evening bring Sweet music as the minstrels sing; And, when the Vanars dance, will come The sound of tabour and of drum. Again to spouse and realm restored, Girt by his friends, the Vanar lord Great glory has acquired; and how Can he be less than happy now?"

On Sita then he looked and smiled; "List to my words" he said, "dear child, Let not thy gentle breast retain One lingering trace of wrath or pain. When by the fire thy truth be proved, By love for thee his will was moved. The furious flame thy faith confessed Which shrank not from the awful test: And thou, in every heart enshrined, Shalt live the best of womankind."

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

Pure, with glad cheer and joyful breast, Of those mysterious arms possessed, Rama, now passing on his way, Thus to the saint began to say: "Lord of these mighty weapons, I Can scarce be harmed by Gods on high; Now, best of saints, I long to gain The powers that can these arms restrain." Thus spoke the prince. The sage austere, True to his vows, from evil clear, Called forth the names of those great charms Whose powers restrain the deadly arms. "Receive thou True and Truly famed, And Bold and Fleet: the weapons named Warder and Progress, swift of pace, Averted-head and Drooping-face; The Seen, and that which Secret flies; The weapon of the thousand eyes; Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced, Star-gazer and the Layer-waste: The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot, The pair that wake and slumber not: The Fiendish, that which shakes amain, The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain: The Guardian, and the Close-allied, The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side: O Raghu's son receive all these, Bright ones that wear what forms they please; Krisasva's mystic sons are they, And worthy thou their might to sway." With joy the pride of Raghu's race Received the hermit's proffered grace, Mysterious arms, to check and stay, Or smite the foeman in the fray. Then, all with heavenly forms endued, Nigh came the wondrous multitude. Celestial in their bright attire Some shone like coals of burning fire; Some were like clouds of dusky smoke; And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke: "Thy thralls, O Rama, here we stand: Command, we pray, thy faithful band" "Depart," he cried, "where each may list, But when I call you to assist, Be present to my mind with speed, And aid me in the hour of need."

The glory of Ikshvaku's line Made offer of a thousand kine, And sought to buy at lordly price A victim for the sacrifice. To many a distant land he drove, To many a people, town, and grove, And holy shades where hermits rest, Pursuing still his eager quest. At length on Bhrigu's sacred height The saint Richika met his sight Sitting beneath the holy boughs. His children near him, and his spouse.

The people, when the morn shone fair, Arose to find no Rama there. Then fear and numbing grief subdued The senses of the multitude. The woe-born tears were running fast As all around their eyes they cast, And sadly looked, but found no trace Of Rama, searching every place. Bereft of Rama good and wise, With drooping cheer and weeping eyes, Each woe-distracted sage gave vent To sorrow in his wild lament: "Woe worth the sleep that stole our sense With its beguiling influence, That now we look in vain for him Of the broad chest and stalwart limb! How could the strong-armed hero, thus Deceiving all, abandon us? His people so devoted see, Yet to the woods, a hermit, flee? How can he, wont our hearts to cheer, As a fond sire his children dear,-- How can the pride of Raghu's race Fly from us to some desert place! Here let us all for death prepare, Or on the last great journey fare;(320) Of Rama our dear lord bereft, What profit in our lives is left? Huge trunks of trees around us lie, With roots and branches sere and dry, Come let us set these logs on fire And throw our bodies on the pyre. What shall we speak? How can we say We followed Rama on his way, The mighty chief whose arm is strong, Who sweetly speaks, who thinks no wrong? Ayodhya's town with sorrow dumb, Without our lord will see us come, And hopeless misery will strike Elder, and child, and dame alike. Forth with that peerless chief we came, Whose mighty heart is aye the same: How, reft of him we love, shall we Returning dare that town to see?"

Then Raghu's son with anxious breast The leader of the saints addressed: "Can aught that I have done displease, O reverend Sage, the devotees? Why are their loving looks, O say, Thus sadly changed or turned away? Has Lakshman through his want of heed Offended with unseemly deed? Or is the gentle Sita, she Who loved to honour you and me-- Is she the cause of this offence, Failing in lowly reverence?"

Their husband's word, by him conveyed, Soon as they heard, the dames obeyed, And following his guidance all Came thronging to the regal hall. In number half seven hundred, they, All lovely dames, in long array, With their bright eyes for weeping red, To stand round Queen Kausalya, sped. They gathered, and the monarch viewed One moment all the multitude, Then to Sumantra spoke and said: "Now let my son be hither led."

"For this, Lord Indra, glorious sire, Majestic as the burning fire, Who crushes cities in his rage, Sought Sarabhanga's hermitage. Thou wast, this great design to aid, Led by the saints to seek this shade, And with thy mighty arm to kill The giants who delight in ill. Thou Dasaratha's noble son, The battle for our sake hast won, And saints in Dandak's wild who live Their days to holy tasks can give."

Then Rama and his brother bent, And did obeisance reverent With suppliant hand and lowly head, Then with Sugriva onward sped. Beyond the sainted Seven's abode Far on their way the chieftains strode, And great Kishkindha's portal gained, The royal town where Bali reigned. Then by the gate they took their stand All ready armed a noble band, And burning every one To slay in battle, hand to hand, Their foeman, Indra's son.

So, with Sugriva, borne o'erhead Ikshvaku's sons the legions led. Behind, the Vanar hosts pursued Their march in endless multitude. Some skimmed the surface of the wave, To some the air a passage gave. Amid their ceaseless roar the sound Of Ocean's fearful voice was drowned, As o'er the bridge by Nala planned They hastened on to Lanka's strand, Where, by the pleasant brooks, mid trees Loaded with fruit, they took their ease.

Hanuman heard, and springing through The air like Vishnu's discus(991) flew. The sea was passed: beneath him, gay With bright-winged birds, the mountains lay, And brook and lake and lonely glen, And fertile lands with toiling men. On, on he sped: before him rose The mansion of perennial snows. There soared the glorious peaks as fair As white clouds in the summer air. Here, bursting from the leafy shade, In thunder leapt the wild cascade. He looked on many a pure retreat Dear to the Gods' and sages' feet: The spot where Brahma dwells apart, The place whence Rudra launched his dart;(992) Vishnu's high seat and Indra's home, And slopes where Yama's servants roam. There was Kuvera's bright abode; There Brahma's mystic weapon glowed. There was the noble hill whereon Those herbs with wondrous lustre shone, And, ravished by the glorious sight, Hanuman rested on the height. He, moving down the glittering peak, The healing herbs began to seek: But, when he thought to seize the prize, They hid them from his eager eyes. Then to the hill in wrath he spake: "Mine arm this day shall vengeance take, If thou wilt feel no pity, none, In this great need of Raghu's son." He ceased: his mighty arms he bent And from the trembling mountain rent His huge head with the life it bore, Snakes, elephants, and golden ore. O'er hill and plain and watery waste His rapid way again he traced. And mid the wondering Vanars laid His burthen through the air conveyed, The wondrous herbs' delightful scent To all the host new vigour lent. Free from all darts and wounds and pain The sons of Raghu lived again, And dead and dying Vanars healed Rose vigorous from the battle field.

Soon as he heard the high behest The driver of the chariot pressed Within the chambers of the king, His lord with praises honouring. And none of all the warders checked His entrance for their great respect Of him well known, in place so high, Still fain their king to gratify. He stood beside the royal chief, Unwitting of his deadly grief, And with sweet words began to sing The praises of his lord and king: "As, when the sun begins to rise, The sparkling sea delights our eyes, Wake, calm with gentle soul, and thus Give rapture, mighty King, to us. As Matali(279) this selfsame hour Sang lauds of old to Indra's power, When he the Titan hosts o'erthrew, So hymn I thee with praises due. The Vedas, with their kindred lore, Brahma their soul-born Lord adore, With all the doctrines of the wise, And bid him, as I bid thee, rise. As, with the moon, the Lord of Day Wakes with the splendour of his ray Prolific Earth, who neath him lies, So, mighty King, I bid thee rise. With blissful words, O Lord of men, Rise, radiant in thy form, as when The sun ascending darts his light From Meru's everlasting height. May Siva, Agni, Sun, and Moon Bestow on thee each choicest boon, Kuvera, Varuna, Indra bless Kakutstha's son with all success. Awake, the holy night is fled, The happy light abroad is spread; Awake, O best of kings, and share The glorious task that claims thy care. The holy sage Vasishtha waits, With all his Brahmans, at the gate. Give thy decree, without delay, To consecrate thy son today. As armies, by no captain led, As flocks that feed unshepherded, Such is the fortune of a state Without a king and desolate."

Then Bharat's soul with fear was stirred Lest Rama from the right had erred, And jealous for ancestral fame, He put this question to the dame: "Has Rama grasped with lawless hold A Brahman's house, or land, or gold? Has Rama harmed with ill intent Some poor or wealthy innocent? Was Rama, faithless to his vows, Enamoured of anothers spouse? Why was he sent to Dandak's wild, Like one who kills an unborn child?"

"Yea, lords like you of wisest thought, Whom happy fate has hither brought, Who vanquish ire and rule each sense, Must of our lord have audience. Reft of his kingdom, sad, forlorn, Once Bali's hate now Bali's scorn, Defeated, severed from his spouse, Wandering under forest boughs, Child of the Sun, our lord and king Sugriva will his succours bring, And all our Vanar hosts combined Will trace the dame you long to find."

Then Jambumali, pride and boast For valour of the Rakshas host, Prahasta's son supremely brave, Obeyed the hest that Ravan gave: Fierce warrior with terrific teeth, With saguine robes and brilliant wreath. A bow like Indra's own(874), and store Of glittering shafts the chieftain bore. And ever as the string he tried The weapon with a roar replied, Loud as the crashing thunder sent By him who rules the firmament. Soon as the foeman came in view Borne on a car which asses drew, The Vanar chieftain mighty-voiced Shouted in triumph and rejoiced. Prahasta's son his bow-string drew, And swift the winged arrows flew, One in the face the Vanar smote, Another quivered in his throat. Ten from the deadly weapon sent His brawny arms and shoulders rent. Then as he felt each galling shot The Vanar's rage waxed fiercely hot. He looked, and saw a mass of stone That lay before his feet o'erthrown. The mighty block he raised and threw, And crashing through the air it flew. But Jambumali shunned the blow, And rained fresh arrows from his bow. The Vanar's limbs were red with gore: A Sal tree from the earth he tore, And, ere he hurled it undismayed, Above his head the missile swayed. But shafts from Jambumali's bow Cut through it ere his hand could throw. And thigh and arm and chest and side With streams of rushing blood were dyed. Still unsubdued though wounded oft The shattered trunk he raised aloft, And down with well-directed aim On Jambumali's chest it came. There crushed upon the trampled grass He lay an undistinguished mass, The foeman's eye no more could see His head or chest or arm or knee. And bow and car and steeds(875) and store Of glittering shafts were seen no more.

Thus spoke the saint. Each vigorous word The noble monarch's offspring heard, And, reverent hands together laid, His answer to the hermit made: "My sire and mother bade me aye Thy word, O mighty Saint, obey So will I, O most glorious, kill This Tadaka who joys in ill, For such my sire's, and such thy will. To aid with mine avenging hand The Brahmans, kine, and all the land, Obedient, heart and soul, I stand."

The haughty challenge, undeterred The son of Dasaratha heard, And cried, while reverence for his sire Checked the full torrent of his ire: "Before this day have I been told The deed that stained thy hands of old. But pity bids my soul forget: Thy father, murdered, claimed the debt. My strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight, Too feeble for a Warrior's might. Now will I show thy wondering eyes The prowess which they dare despise."

Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir Preceded by the General Sire, Met in the air and gazed below On Rama with that wondrous bow. Nymph, minstrel, angel, all were there, Snake-God, and spirit of the air, Giant, and bard, and gryphon, met, Their eyes upon the marvel set. In senseless hush the world was chained While Rama's hand the bow retained, And Jamadagni's son amazed And powerless on the hero gazed. Then when his swelling heart had shrunk, And his proud strength in torpor sunk, Scarce his voice ventured, low and weak, To Rama lotus-eyed, to speak: "When long ago I gave away The whole broad land to Kasyap's sway He charged me never to remain Within the limits of his reign. Obedient to my guide's behest On earth by night I never rest. My choice is made, I will not dim Mine honour and be false to him. So, son of Raghu, leave me still The power to wander where I will, And swifter than the thought my flight Shall place me on Mahendra's height. My mansions of eternal joy, By penance won, thou mayst destroy, My path to these thy shaft may stay. Now to the work! No more delay! I know thee Lord of Gods; I know Thy changeless might laid Madhu low. All other hands would surely fail To bend this bow. All hail! all hail! See! all the Gods have left the skies To bend on thee their eager eyes, With whose achievements none compete, Whose arm in war no God can meet. No shame is mine, I ween, for thou, Lord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow. Now, pious Rama, 'tis thy part To shoot afar that glorious dart: I, when the fatal shaft is shot, Will seek that hill and tarry not."

Thus by the royal envoys pressed, Bharat again the band addressed: "I go with you: no long delay, A single hour I bid you stay." Thus Bharat, son of him who swayed Ayodhyas realm, his answer made, And then bespoke, his heart to please, His mother's sire in words like these: "I go to see my father, King, Urged by the envoys' summoning; And when thy soul desires to see Thy grandson, will return to thee."

Then to her breast that youth she drew, Whose sweet fraternal love she knew, And there in strict embraces held The hero, as her tears outwelled. And Bharat's heart grew sick and faint With grief and oft-renewed complaint, And all his senses were distraught By the great woe that in him wrought. Thus he lay and still bewailed With sighs and loud lament Till all his strength and reason failed, The hours of night were spent.

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."

Then, when the solemn rite was o'er, Came Rama to the river shore, And offered, with his brothers' aid, Fresh tribute to his father's shade. With jujube fruit he mixed the seed Of Ingudis from moisture freed, And placed it on a spot o'erspread With sacred grass, and weeping said: "Enjoy, great King, the cake which we Thy children eat and offer thee! For ne'er do blessed Gods refuse To share the food which mortals use."

To that bright sage, of penance stern, The high-souled Rama spake in turn, As Vasava(422) who rules the skies To Brahma's gracious speech replies: "I of myself those worlds will win, O mighty hermit pure from sin: But now, O saint, I pray thee tell Where I within this wood may dwell: For I by Sarabhanga old, The son of Gautama, was told That thou in every lore art wise, And seest all with loving eyes."

The hermit ceased: the princely two With seemly honours bade adieu: With reverential awe each youth Bowed to the saint whose word was truth, And then, dismissed with Sita, they To Panchavati took their way. Thus when each royal prince had grasped His warrior's mighty bow, and clasped His quiver to his side, With watchful eyes along the road The glorious saint Agastya showed, Dauntless in fight the brothers strode, And Sita with them hied.

"A hundred years shall flee, and still Will I obey my brother's will: Select thyself a pleasant spot; Be mine the care to rear the cot." The glorious chieftain, pleased to hear That loving speech that soothed his ear, Selected with observant care A spot with every charm most fair. He stood within that calm retreat, A shade for hermits' home most meet, And thus Sumitra's son addressed, While his dear hand in his he pressed:

The child of Janak heard him speak, And the hot tear-drops down her cheek, Increasing to a torrent, ran, As thus once more the dame began: "O Lakshman, if I widowed be Godavari's flood shall cover me, Or I will die by cord, or leap, Life weary, from yon rocky steep; Or deadly poison will I drink, Or 'neath the kindled flames will sink, But never, reft of Rama, can Consent to touch a meaner man."

With joy that sprang from hope restored To Rama spake the Vanar lord: "I know, by wise Hanuman taught, Why thou the lonely wood hast sought. Where with thy brother Lakshman thou Hast sojourned, bound by hermit vow; Have heard how Sita, Janak's child, Was stolen in the pathless wild, How by a roving Rakshas she Weeping was reft from him and thee; How, bent on death, the giant slew The vulture king, her guardian true, And gave thy widowed breast to know A solitary mourner's woe. But soon, dear Prince, thy heart shall be From every trace of sorrow free; For I thy darling will restore, Lost like the prize of holy lore.(558) Yea, though in heaven the lady dwell, Or prisoned in the depths of hell, My friendly care her way shall track And bring thy ransomed darling back. Let this my promise soothe thy care, Nor doubt the words I truly swear. Saints, fiends, and dwellers of the skies Shall find thy wife a bitter prize, Like the rash child who rues too late The treacherous lure of poisoned cate. No longer, Prince, thy loss deplore: Thy darling wife will I restore. 'Twas she I saw: my heart infers That shrinking form was doubtless hers, Which gaint Ravan, fierce and dread, Bore swiftly through the clouds o'erhead Still writhing in his strict embrace Like helpless queen of serpent race,(559) And from her lips that sad voice came Shrieking thine own and Lakshman's name. High on a hill she saw me stand With comrades twain on either hand. Her outer robe to earth she threw, And with it sent her anklets too. We saw the glittering tokens fall, We found them there and kept them all. These will I bring: perchance thine eyes The treasured spoils will recognize."

But if in lowly reverence meek Sugriva's court with us thou seek, He, as thy birth demands, will share The kingdom with the royal heir. Thy loving kinsman, true and wise, Looks on thee still with favouring eyes. Firm in his promise, pure is he, And ne'er will vex or injure thee. He loves thy mother, lives for her A faithful friend and worshipper. That mother's love thou mayst not spurn: Her only child, return, return."

Then Bali's noble son replied: "Needs must I go, whate'er betide, For, if no chief this exploit dare, What waits us all save blank despair,-- Upon the ground again to lie In hopeless misery, fast, and die? For not a hope of life I see If we neglect our king's decree." Then spoke the aged chief again: "Nay our attempt shall not be vain, For to the task will I incite A chieftain of sufficient might."

Thus calmed he King Sugriva's dread; Then gave new heart to those who fled. Fierce Indrajit, his soul on fire With pride of conquest, sought his sire, Raised reverent hands, and told him all, The battle and the princes' fall. Rejoicing at his foes' defeat Upsprang the monarch from his seat, Girt by his giant courtiers: round His warrior son his arms he wound, Close kisses on his head applied, And heard again how Rama died.

But Sita viewed with wild affright The heroes hurried from her sight. She tossed her shapely arms on high, And shrieked aloud her bitter cry: "Ah, the dread giant bears away The princely Rama as his prey, Truthful and pure, and good and great, And Lakshman shares his brother's fate. The brindled tiger and the bear My mangled limbs for food will tear. Take me, O best of giants, me, And leave the sons of Raghu free."

The hermit spake, and Rama bent His head, with Lakshman, reverent, And then with him and Janak's child Set out to trace the forest wild. He saw dark woods that fringed the road, And distant hills like clouds that showed, And, as the way he followed, met With many a lake and rivulet. So passing on with ease where led The path Sutikshna bade him tread, The hero with exulting breast His brother in these words addressed:

Compelled his shattered car to quit, Rage filled the soul of Indrajit, Who brooked not, strong by Brahma's grace Defeat from one of Vanar race. In magic mist concealed from view His bow the treacherous warrior drew, And Raghu's sons were first to feel The tempest of his winged steel. Then when his arrows failed to kill The princes who defied him still, He bound them with the serpent noose,(954) The magic bond which none might loose.

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

The Lord of life the skies regained: The fervent king a year remained With arms upraised, refusing rest While with one toe the earth he pressed, Still as a post, with sleepless eye, The air his food, his roof the sky. The year had past. Then Uma's lord,(198) King of creation, world adored, Thus spoke to great Bhagirath: "I, Well pleased thy wish will gratify, And on my head her waves shall fling The daughter of the Mountains' King!"

When, of the thousand years ordained, Ten only unfulfilled remained, Thus to her son, the Thousand-eyed, The Goddess in her triumph cried: "Best of the mighty! there remain But ten short years of toil and pain; These years of penance soon will flee, And a new brother thou shalt see. Him for thy sake I'll nobly breed, And lust of war his soul shall feed; Then free from care and sorrow thou Shalt see the worlds before him bow."(212)

Delighted at the words she said, Kaikeyi lifted from the bed, Like autumn's moon, her radiant head, And joyous at the tidings gave A jewel to the hump-back slave; And as she gave the precious toy She cried in her exceeding joy: "Take this, dear maiden, for thy news Most grateful to mine ear, and choose What grace beside most fitly may The welcome messenger repay. I joy that Rama gains the throne: Kausalya's son is as mine own."

As thus Kakutstha's offspring spoke, Fear in Kaikeyi's breast awoke. The freshness of her face was dried, Her trembling tongue was terror-tied. Alarmed and sad, with bloodless cheek, She turned to him and scarce could speak: "Nay, Sire, but Bharat shall not gain An empty realm where none remain. My Bharat shall not rule a waste Reft of all sweets to charm the taste-- The wine-cup's dregs, all dull and dead, Whence the light foam and life are fled."