Ramayana on Death

"Ah me! o'erwhelmed with shame and weak With wounds," I cried, "I scarce can speak. My hapless brother once and I Our strength of flight resolved to try. And by our foolish pride impelled Our way through realms of ether held. We vowed before the saints who tread The wilds about Kailasa's head, That we with following wings would chase The swift sun to his resting place. Up on our soaring pinions through The fields of cloudless air we flew. Beneath us far, and far away, Like chariot wheels bright cities lay, Whence in wild snatches rose the song Of women mid the gay-clad throng, With sounds of sweetest music blent And many a tinkling ornament. Then as our rapid wings we strained The pathway of the sun we gained. Beneath us all the earth was seen Clad in her garb of tender green, And every river in her bed Meandered like a silver thread. We looked on Meru far below And Vindhya and the Lord of Snow, Like elephants that bend to cool Their fever in a lilied pool. But fervent heat and toil o'ercame The vigour of each yielding frame, Our weary hearts began to quail, And wildered sense to reel and fail. We knew not, fainting and distressed, The north or south or east or west. With a great strain mine eyes I turned Where the fierce sun before me burned, And seemed to my astonished eyes The equal of the earth in size.(775) At length, o'erpowered, Jatayus fell Without a word to say farewell, And when to earth I saw him hie I followed headlong from the sky.(776) With sheltering wings I intervened And from the sun his body screened, But lost, for heedless folly doomed, My pinions which the heat consumed. In Janasthan, I hear them say, My hapless brother fell and lay. I, pinionless and faint and weak, Dropped upon Vindhya's woody peak. Now with my swift wings burnt away, Reft of my brother and my sway, From this tall mountain's summit I Will cast me headlong down and die."

Then hosts of spirits as they gazed The daring of the Vanar praised. Through the broad fields of ether, fast Garud's royal self, he passed, The region of the cloud and rain, Loved by the gay Gandharva train, Where mid the birds that came and went Shone Indra's glorious bow unbent, And like a host of wandering stars Flashed the high Gods' celestial cars. Fierce Sinhika(799) who joyed in ill And changed her form to work her will, Descried him on his airy way And marked the Vanar for her prey. "This day at length," the demon cried, "My hunger shall be satisfied," And at his passing shadow caught Delighted with the cheering thought. The Vanar felt the power that stayed And held him as she grasped his shade, Like some tall ship upon the main That struggles with the wind in vain. Below, above, his eye he bent And scanned the sea and firmament. High from the briny deep upreared The monster's hideous form appeared, "Sugriva's tale," he cried, "is true: This is the demon dire to view Of whom the Vanar monarch told, Whose grasp a passing shade can hold." Then, as a cloud in rain-time grows His form, dilating, swelled and rose. Wide as the space from heaven to hell Her jaws she opened with a yell, And rushed upon her fancied prey With cloud-like roar to seize and slay. The Vanar swift as thought compressed His borrowed bulk of limb and chest, And stood with one quick bound inside The monstrous mouth she opened wide. Hid like the moon when Rahu draws The orb within his ravening jaws. Within that ample cavern pent The demon's form he tore and rent, And, from the mangled carcass freed, Came forth again with thought-like speed.(800) Thus with his skill the fiend he slew, Then to his wonted stature grew. The spirits saw the demon die And hailed the Vanar from the sky: "Well hast thou fought a wondrous fight Nor spared the fiend's terrific might, On, on! perform the blameless deed, And in thine every wish succeed.

He ceased; and spurred by warlike pride The impetuous son of Raghu cried: "Soon shall mine arm with wrathful joy That city of the foe destroy. Now, chieftain, now collect the host, And onward to the southern coast! The sun in his meridian tower Gives glory to the Vanar power. The demon lord who stole my queen By timely flight his life may screen. She, when she knows her lord is near, Will cling to hope and banish fear, Saved like a dying wretch who sips The drink of Gods with fevered lips. Arise, thy troops to battle lead: All happy omens counsel speed. The Lord of Stars in favouring skies Bodes glory to our enterprise. This arm shall slay the fiend; and she, My consort, shall again be free. Mine upward-throbbing eye foreshows The longed-for triumph o'er my foes. Far in the van be Nila's post, To scan the pathway for the host, And let thy bravest and thy best, A hundred thousand, wait his hest. Go forth, O warrior Nila, lead The legions on through wood and mead Where pleasant waters cool the ground, And honey, flowers, and fruit abound. Go, and with timely care prevent The Rakshas foeman's dark intent. With watchful troops each valley guard Ere brooks and fruits and roots be marred And search each glen and leafy shade For hostile troops in ambuscade. But let the weaklings stay behind: For heroes is our task designed. Let thousands of the Vanar breed The vanguard of the armies lead: Fierce and terrific must it be As billows of the stormy sea. There be the hill-huge Gaja's place, And Gavaya's, strongest of his race, And, like the bull that leads the herd, Gavaksha's, by no fears deterred Let Rishabh, matchless in the might Of warlike arms, protect our right, And Gandhamadan next in rank Defend and guide the other flank. I, like the God who rules the sky Borne on Airavat(900) mounted high On stout Hanuman's back will ride, The central host to cheer and guide.

There Saran ceased: then Suka broke The silence and to Ravan spoke: "O Monarch, yonder chiefs survey: Like elephants in size are they, And tower like stately trees that grow Where Ganga's nursing waters flow; Yea, tall as mountain pines that fling Long shadows o'er the snow-crowned king. They all in wild Kishkindha dwell And serve their lord Sugriva well. The Gods' and bright Gandharvas' seed, They take each form that suits their need. Now farther look, O Monarch, where Those chieftains stand, a glorious pair, Conspicuous for their godlike frames; Dwivid and Mainda are their names. Their lips the drink of heaven have known, And Brahma claims them for his own. That chieftain whom thine eyes behold Refulgent like a hill of gold, Before whose wrathful might the sea Roused from his rest would turn and flee, The peerless Vanar, he who came To Lanka for the Maithil dame, The Wind-God's son Hanuman; thou Hast seen him once, behold him now. Still nearer let thy glance be bent, And mark that prince preeminent Mid chieftains for his strength and size And splendour of his lotus eyes. Far through the worlds his virtues shine, The glory of Ikshvaku's line. The path of truth he never leaves, And still through all to duty cleaves. Deep in the Vedas, skilled to wield The mystic shafts to him revealed: Whose flaming darts to heaven ascend, And through the earth a passage rend: In might like him who rules the sky; Like Yama, when his wrath grows high: Whose queen, the darling of his soul, Thy magic art deceived and stole: There royal Rama stands and longs For battle to avenge his wrongs. Near on his right a prince, in hue Like pure gold freshly burnished, view: Broad is his chest, his eye is red, His black hair curls about his head: 'Tis Lakshman, faithful friend, who shares His brother's joys, his brother's cares. By Rama's side he loves to stand And serve him as his better hand, For whose dear sake without a sigh The warrior youth would gladly die.

As Visvamitra, mighty sage, Was moved with this tempestuous rage, Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame, And fear upon the Immortals came. But Saint Vasishtha, wisest seer, Observant of his vows austere, Saw the whole world convulsed with dread, And thus unto the monarch said: "Thou, born of old Ikshvaku's seed, Art Justice' self in mortal weed. Constant and pious, blest by fate, The right thou must not violate. Thou, Raghu's son, so famous through The triple world as just and true, Perform thy bounden duty still, Nor stain thy race by deed of ill. If thou have sworn and now refuse Thou must thy store of merit lose. Then, Monarch, let thy Rama go, Nor fear for him the demon foe. The fiends shall have no power to hurt Him trained to war or inexpert, Nor vanquish him in battle field, For Kusik's son the youth will shield. He is incarnate Justice, he The best of men for bravery. Embodied love of penance drear, Among the wise without a peer. Full well he knows, great Kusik's son, The arms celestial, every one, Arms from the Gods themselves concealed, Far less to other men revealed. These arms to him, when earth he swayed, Mighty Krisasva, pleased, conveyed. Krisasva's sons they are indeed, Brought forth by Daksha's lovely seed,(146) Heralds of conquest, strong and bold, Brilliant, of semblance manifold. Jaya and Vijaya, most fair, And hundred splendid weapons bare. Of Jaya, glorious as the morn, First fifty noble sons were born, Boundless in size yet viewless too, They came the demons to subdue. And fifty children also came Of Vijaya the beauteous dame, Sanharas named, of mighty force, Hard to assail or check in course. Of these the hermit knows the use, And weapons new can he produce. All these the mighty saint will yield To Rama's hand, to own and wield; And armed with these, beyond a doubt Shall Rama put those fiends to rout. For Rama and the people's sake, For thine own good my counsel take, Nor seek, O King, with fond delay, The parting of thy son to stay."

When Sagar thus had bowed to fate, The lords and commons of the state Approved with ready heart and will Prince Ansuman his throne to fill. He ruled, a mighty king, unblamed, Sire of Dilipa justly famed. To him, his child and worthy heir, The king resigned his kingdom's care, And on Himalaya's pleasant side His task austere of penance plied. Bright as a God in clear renown He planned to bring pure Ganga down. There on his fruitless hope intent Twice sixteen thousand years he spent, And in the grove of hermits stayed Till bliss in heaven his rites repaid. Dilipa then, the good and great, Soon as he learnt his kinsmen's fate, Bowed down by woe, with troubled mind, Pondering long no cure could find. "How can I bring," the mourner sighed, "To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide? How can I give them rest, and save Their spirits with the offered wave?" Long with this thought his bosom skilled In holy discipline was filled. A son was born, Bhagirath named, Above all men for virtue famed. Dilipa many a rite ordained, And thirty thousand seasons reigned. But when no hope the king could see His kinsmen from their woe to free, The lord of men, by sickness tried, Obeyed the law of fate, and died; He left the kingdom to his son, And gained the heaven his deeds had won. The good Bhagirath, royal sage, Had no fair son to cheer his age. He, great in glory, pure in will, Longing for sons was childless still. Then on one wish, one thought intent, Planning the heavenly stream's descent, Leaving his ministers the care And burden of his state to bear, Dwelling in far Gokarna(194) he Engaged in long austerity. With senses checked, with arms upraised, Five fires(195) around and o'er him blazed. Each weary month the hermit passed Breaking but once his awful fast. In winter's chill the brook his bed, In rain, the clouds to screen his head. Thousands of years he thus endured Till Brahma's favour was assured, And the high Lord of living things Looked kindly on his sufferings.

The Sons of Heaven, in wild alarm, Soft flatteries tried his rage to charm. Then Bhava, Lord whom Gods adore, Grew kind and friendly as before, And every torn and mangled limb Was safe and sound restored by him. Thenceforth this bow, the gem of bows, That freed the God of Gods from foes, Stored by our great forefathers lay A treasure and a pride for aye. Once, as it chanced, I ploughed the ground, When sudden, 'neath the share was found An infant springing from the earth, Named Sita from her secret birth.(246) In strength and grace the maiden grew, My cherished daughter, fair to view. I vowed her, of no mortal birth, Meet prize for noblest hero's worth. In strength and grace the maiden grew, And many a monarch came to woo. To all the princely suitors I Gave, mighty Saint, the same reply: "I give not thus my daughter, she Prize of heroic worth shall be.(247) To Mithila the suitors pressed Their power and might to manifest. To all who came with hearts aglow I offered Siva's wondrous bow. Not one of all the royal band Could raise or take the bow in hand. The suitors' puny might I spurned, And back the feeble princes turned. Enraged thereat, the warriors met, With force combined my town beset. Stung to the heart with scorn and shame, With war and threats they madly came, Besieged my peaceful walls, and long To Mithila did grievous wrong. There, wasting all, a year they lay, And brought my treasures to decay, Filling my soul, O Hermit chief, With bitter woe and hopeless grief. At last by long-wrought penance I Won favour with the Gods on high, Who with my labours well content A four-fold host to aid me sent. Then swift the baffled heroes fled To all the winds discomfited-- Wrong-doers, with their lords and host, And all their valour's idle boast. This heavenly bow, exceeding bright, These youths shall see, O Anchorite. Then if young Rama's hand can string The bow that baffled lord and king, To him I give, as I have sworn, My Sita, not of woman born."

The envoy answered: "Prince, thy sire Has sent thy presence to require. My sender known, 'tis thine to say If thou wilt go or answer nay." Then Rama, when he heard his speech, Made haste the royal court to reach. Soon as the monarch was aware His dearest son was waiting there, Eager the parley to begin He bade them lead the prince within, Soon as he passed the chamber door The hero bent him to the floor, And at a distance from his seat Raised his joined hands his sire to greet. The monarch raised him from the ground, And loving arms about him wound, Then pointed to a seat that shone With gold for him to rest upon. "Aged am I," he said, "and worn; In life's best joys my share have borne; Rites to the Gods, in hundreds, paid, With gifts of corn and largess made. I yearned for sons: my life is blest With them and thee of sons the best. No debt to saints or Brahmans, no, Nor spirits, Gods, or self I owe. One duty now remains alone, To set thee on thy father's throne. Now therefore, Rama, hear my rede, And mark my words with duteous heed: This day the peoples' general voice, Elects thee king of love and choice, And I, consenting to the prayer, Will make thee, darling, Regent Heir. Dread visions, each returning night, With evil omens scare my sight. Red meteors with a fearful sound Shoot wildly downward to the ground, While tempests lash the troubled air; And they who read the stars declare That, leagued against my natal sign, Rahu,(265) the Sun,(266) and Mars combine. When portents dire as these appear, A monarch's death or woe is near. Then while my senses yet are spared, And thought and will are unimpaired, Be thou, my son, anointed king: Men's fancy is a fickle thing. To-day the moon, in order due, Entered the sign Punarvasu,(267) To-morrow, as the wise foretell, In Pushya's favouring stars will dwell: Then on the throne shalt thou be placed. My soul, prophetic, counsels haste: Thee, O my son, to-morrow I As Regent Heir will sanctify.

Kausalya ceased her sad lament, Of beauteous dames most excellent. Sumitra who to duty clave, In righteous words this answer gave: "Dear Queen, all noble virtues grace Thy son, of men the first in place. Why dost thou shed these tears of woe With bitter grief lamenting so? If Rama, leaving royal sway Has hastened to the woods away, 'Tis for his high-souled father's sake That he his premise may not break. He to the path of duty clings Which lordly fruit hereafter brings-- The path to which the righteous cleave-- For him, dear Queen, thou shouldst not grieve. And Lakshman too, the blameless-souled, The same high course with him will hold, And mighty bliss on him shall wait, So tenderly compassionate. And Sita, bred with tender care, Well knows what toils await her there, But in her love she will not part From Rama of the virtuous heart. Now has thy son through all the world The banner of his fame unfurled; True, modest, careful of his vow, What has he left to aim at now? The sun will mark his mighty soul, His wisdom, sweetness, self-control, Will spare from pain his face and limb, And with soft radiance shine for him. For him through forest glades shall spring A soft auspicious breeze, and bring Its tempered heat and cold to play Around him ever night and day. The pure cold moonbeams shall delight The hero as he sleeps at night, And soothe him with the soft caress Of a fond parent's tenderness. To him, the bravest of the brave, His heavenly arms the Brahman gave, When fierce Suvahu dyed the plain With his life-blood by Rama slain. Still trusting to his own right arm Thy hero son will fear no harm: As in his father's palace, he In the wild woods will dauntless be. Whene'er he lets his arrows fly His stricken foemen fall and die: And is that prince of peerless worth Too weak to keep and sway the earth? His sweet pure soul, his beauty's charm, His hero heart, his warlike arm, Will soon redeem his rightful reign When from the woods he comes again.

The night those messengers of state Had past within the city's gate, In dreams the slumbering Bharat saw A sight that chilled his soul with awe. The dream that dire events foretold Left Bharat's heart with horror cold, And with consuming woes distraught, Upon his aged sire he thought. His dear companions, swift to trace The signs of anguish on his face, Drew near, his sorrow to expel, And pleasant tales began to tell. Some woke sweet music's cheering sound, And others danced in lively round. With joke and jest they strove to raise His spirits, quoting ancient plays; But Bharat still, the lofty-souled, Deaf to sweet tales his fellows told, Unmoved by music, dance, and jest, Sat silent, by his woe oppressed. To him, begirt by comrades near, Thus spoke the friend he held most dear: "Why ringed around by friends, art thou So silent and so mournful now?" "Hear thou," thus Bharat made reply, "What chills my heart and dims mine eye. I dreamt I saw the king my sire Sink headlong in a lake of mire Down from a mountain high in air, His body soiled, and loose his hair. Upon the miry lake he seemed To lie and welter, as I dreamed; With hollowed hands full many a draught Of oil he took, and loudly laughed. With head cast down I saw him make A meal on sesamum and cake; The oil from every member dripped, And in its clammy flood he dipped. The ocean's bed was bare and dry, The moon had fallen from the sky, And all the world lay still and dead, With whelming darkness overspread. The earth was rent and opened wide, The leafy trees were scorched, and died; I saw the seated mountains split, And wreaths of rising smoke emit. The stately beast the monarch rode His long tusks rent and splintered showed; And flames that quenched and cold had lain Blazed forth with kindled light again. I looked, and many a handsome dame, Arrayed in brown and sable came And bore about the monarch, dressed, On iron stool, in sable vest.

The prudent prince the assembly viewed Thronged with its noble multitude, Resplendent as a cloudless night When the full moon is in his height; While robes of every varied hue A glory o'er the synod threw. The priest in lore of duty skilled Looked on the crowd the hall that filled, And then in accents soft and grave To Bharat thus his counsel gave: "The king, dear son, so good and wise, Has gone from earth and gained the skies, Leaving to thee, her rightful lord, This rich wide land with foison stored. And still has faithful Rama stood Firm to the duty of the good, And kept his father's hest aright, As the moon keeps its own dear light. Thus sire and brother yield to thee This realm from all annoyance free: Rejoice thy lords: enjoy thine own: Anointed king, ascend the throne. Let vassal Princes hasten forth From distant lands, west, south, and north, From Kerala,(360) from every sea, And bring ten million gems to thee." As thus the sage Vasishtha spoke, A storm of grief o'er Bharat broke. And longing to be just and true, His thoughts to duteous Rama flew. With sobs and sighs and broken tones, E'en as a wounded mallard moans, He mourned with deepest sorrow moved, And thus the holy priest reproved: "O, how can such as Bharat dare The power and sway from him to tear, Wise, and devout, and true, and chaste, With Scripture lore and virtue graced? Can one of Dasaratha's seed Be guilty of so vile a deed? The realm and I are Rama's: thou, Shouldst speak the words of justice now. For he, to claims of virtue true, Is eldest born and noblest too: Nahush, Dilipa could not be More famous in their lives than he. As Dasaratha ruled of right, So Rama's is the power and right. If I should do this sinful deed And forfeit hope of heavenly meed, My guilty act would dim the shine Of old Ikshvaku's glorious line. Nay, as the sin my mother wrought Is grievous to my inmost thought, I here, my hands together laid, Will greet him in the pathless shade.

By sage Javali thus addressed, Rama of truthful hearts the best, With perfect skill and wisdom high Thus to his speech made fit reply: "Thy words that tempt to bliss are fair, But virtue's garb they falsely wear. For he from duty's path who strays To wander in forbidden ways, Allured by doctrine false and vain, Praise from the good can never gain. Their lives the true and boaster show, Pure and impure, and high and low, Else were no mark to judge between Stainless and stained and high and mean; They to whose lot fair signs may fall Were but as they who lack them all, And those to virtuous thoughts inclined Were but as men of evil mind. If in the sacred name of right I do this wrong in duty's spite; The path of virtue meanly quit, And this polluting sin commit, What man who marks the bounds between Virtue and vice with insight keen, Would rank me high in after time Stained with this soul destroying crime? Whither could I, the sinner, turn, How hope a seat in heaven to earn, If I my plighted promise break, And thus the righteous path forsake? This world of ours is ever led To walk the ways which others tread, And as their princes they behold, The subjects too their lives will mould. That truth and mercy still must be Beloved of kings, is Heaven's decree. Upheld by truth the monarch reigns, And truth the very world sustains. Truth evermore has been the love Of holy saints and Gods above, And he whose lips are truthful here Wins after death the highest sphere. As from a serpent's deadly tooth, We shrink from him who scorns the truth. For holy truth is root and spring Of justice and each holy thing, A might that every power transcends, Linked to high bliss that never ends. Truth is all virtue's surest base, Supreme in worth and first in place. Oblations, gifts men offer here, Vows, sacrifice, and rites austere, And Holy Writ, on truth depend: So men must still that truth defend.

Deep, pleasant was the chariot's sound As royal Bharat, far renowned, Whirled by his mettled coursers fast Within Ayodhya's city passed. There dark and drear was every home Where cats and owls had space to roam, As when the shades of midnight fall With blackest gloom, and cover all: As Rohini, dear spouse of him Whom Rahu hates,(396) grows faint and dim, When, as she shines on high alone The demon's shade is o'er her thrown: As burnt by summer's heat a rill Scarce trickling from her parent hill, With dying fish in pools half dried, And fainting birds upon her side: As sacrificial flames arise When holy oil their food supplies, But when no more the fire is fed Sink lustreless and cold and dead: Like some brave host that filled the plain, With harness rent and captains slain, When warrior, elephant, and steed Mingled in wild confusion bleed: As when, all spent her store of worth, Rocks from her base the loosened earth: Like a sad fallen star no more Wearing the lovely light it wore: So mournful in her lost estate Was that sad town disconsolate. Then car-borne Bharat, good and brave, Thus spake to him the steeds who drave: "Why are Ayodhya's streets so mute? Where is the voice of lyre and lute? Why sounds not, as of old, to-day The music of the minstrel's lay? Where are the wreaths they used to twine? Where are the blossoms and the wine? Where is the cool refreshing scent Of sandal dust with aloe blent? The elephant's impatient roar, The din of cars, I hear no more: No more the horse's pleasant neigh Rings out to meet me on my way. Ayodhya's youths, since Rama's flight, Have lost their relish for delight: Her men roam forth no more, nor care Bright garlands round their necks to wear. All grieve for banished Rama: feast, And revelry and song have ceased: Like a black night when floods pour down, So dark and gloomy is the town. When will he come to make them gay Like some auspicious holiday? When will my brother, like a cloud At summer's close, make glad the crowd?"

"King Janak, just and brave and strong, Who loves the right and hates the wrong, Well skilled in what the law ordains For Warriors, o'er Videha reigns. Guiding one morn the plough, his hand Marked out, for rites the sacred land, When, as the ploughshare cleft the earth, Child of the king I leapt to birth. Then as the ground he smoothed and cleared, He saw me all with dust besmeared, And on the new-found babe, amazed The ruler of Videha gazed. In childless love the monarch pressed The welcome infant to his breast: "My daughter," thus he cried, "is she:" And as his child he cared for me. Forth from the sky was heard o'erhead As 'twere a human voice that said: "Yea, even so: great King, this child Henceforth thine own be justly styled." Videha's monarch, virtuous souled, Rejoiced o'er me with joy untold, Delighting in his new-won prize, The darling of his heart and eyes. To his chief queen of saintly mind The precious treasure he consigned, And by her side she saw me grow, Nursed with the love which mothers know. Then as he saw the seasons fly, And knew my marriage-time was nigh, My sire was vexed with care, as sad As one who mourns the wealth he had: "Scorn on the maiden's sire must wait From men of high and low estate: The virgin's father all despise, Though Indra's peer, who rules the skies." More near he saw, and still more near, The scorn that filled his soul with fear, On trouble's billowy ocean tossed, Like one whose shattered bark is lost. My father knowing how I came, No daughter of a mortal dame, In all the regions failed to see A bridegroom meet to match with me. Each way with anxious thought he scanned, And thus at length the monarch planned: "The Bride's Election will I hold, With every rite prescribed of old." It pleased King Varun to bestow Quiver and shafts and heavenly bow Upon my father's sire who reigned, When Daksha his great rite ordained. Where was the man might bend or lift With utmost toil that wondrous gift?

"I told thee of that dreadful day When Rama smote and spared to slay. Now hear me, Ravan, while I tell What in the after time befell. At length, restored to strength and pride, I and two mighty fiends beside Assumed the forms of deer and strayed Through Dandak wood in lawn and glade, I reared terrific horns: beneath Were flaming tongue and pointed teeth. I roamed where'er my fancy led, And on the flesh of hermits fed, In sacred haunt, by hallowed tree, Where'er the ritual fires might be. A fearful shape, I wandered through The wood, and many a hermit slew. With ruthless rage the saints I killed Who in the grove their tasks fulfilled. When smitten to the earth they sank, Their flesh I ate, their blood I drank, And with my cruel deeds dismayed All dwellers in the forest shade, Spoiling their rites in bitter hate, With human blood inebriate. Once in the wood I chanced to see Rama again, a devotee, A hermit, fed on scanty fare, Who made the good of all his care. His noble wife was by his side, And Lakshman in the battle tried. In senseless pride I scorned the might Of that illustrious anchorite, And heedless of a hermit foe, Recalled my earlier overthrow. I charged him in my rage and scorn To slay him with my pointed horn, In heedless haste, to fury wrought As on my former wounds I thought. Then from the mighty bow he drew Three foe-destroying arrows flew, Keen-pointed, leaping from the string, Swift as the wind or feathered king. Dire shafts, on flesh of foemen fed, Like rushing thunderbolts they sped, With knots well smoothed and barbs well bent, Shot e'en as one, the arrows went. But I who Rama's might had felt, And knew the blows the hero dealt, Escaped by rapid flight. The two Who lingered on the spot, he slew. I fled from mortal danger, freed From the dire shaft by timely speed. Now to deep thought my days I give, And as a humble hermit live. In every shrub, in every tree I view that noblest devotee.

As, clad in mendicant's disguise, He questioned thus his destined prize, She to the seeming saintly man The story of her life began. "My guest is he," she thought, "and I, To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:" "Child of a noble sire I spring From Janak, fair Videha's king. May every good be thine! my name Is Sita, Rama's cherished dame. Twelve winters with my lord I spent Most happily with sweet content In the rich home of Raghu's line, And every earthly joy was mine. Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then His peers advised the king of men, Rama, my lord, to consecrate Joint ruler of his ancient state. But when the rites were scarce begun, To consecrate Ikshvaku's son, The queen Kaikeyi, honoured dame, Sought of her lord an ancient claim. Her plea of former service pressed, And made him grant her new request, To banish Rama to the wild And consecrate instead her child. This double prayer on him, the best And truest king, she strongly pressed: "Mine eyes in sleep I will not close, Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose. This very day my death shall bring If Rama be anointed king." As thus she spake in envious ire, The aged king, my husband's sire, Besought with fitting words; but she Was cold and deaf to every plea. As yet my days are few; eighteen The years of life that I have seen; And Rama, best of all alive, Has passed of years a score and five-- Rama the great and gentle, through All region famed as pure and true, Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall, With tender heart that cares for all. But Dasaratha, led astray By woman's wile and passion's sway, By his strong love of her impelled, The consecrating rites withheld. When, hopeful of the promised grace, My Rama sought his father's face, The queen Kaikeyi, ill at ease, Spoke to my lord brief words like these: "Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me The words thy father says to thee: "I yield this day to Bharat's hand, Free from all foes, this ancient land.

Ravan's red eyes in fury rolled: Bright with his armlets' flashing gold, In high disdain, by passion stirred He rushed against the sovereign bird. With clash and din and furious blows Of murderous battle met the foes: Thus urged by winds two clouds on high Meet warring in the stormy sky. Then fierce the dreadful combat raged As fiend and bird in war engaged, As if two winged mountains sped To dire encounter overhead. Keen pointed arrows thick and fast, In never ceasing fury cast, Rained hurtling on the vulture king And smote him on the breast and wing. But still that noblest bird sustained The cloud of shafts which Ravan rained, And with strong beak and talons bent The body of his foeman rent. Then wild with rage the ten-necked king Laid ten swift arrows on his string,-- Dread as the staff of Death were they, So terrible and keen to slay. Straight to his ear the string he drew, Straight to the mark the arrows flew, And pierced by every iron head The vulture's mangled body bled. One glance upon the car he bent Where Sita wept with shrill lament, Then heedless of his wounds and pain Rushed at the giant king again. Then the brave vulture with the stroke Of his resistless talons broke The giant's shafts and bow whereon The fairest pearls and jewels shone. The monster paused, by rage unmanned: A second bow soon armed his hand, Whence pointed arrows swift and true In hundreds, yea in thousands, flew. The monarch of the vultures, plied With ceaseless darts on every side, Showed like a bird that turns to rest Close covered by the branch-built nest. He shook his pinions to repel The storm of arrows as it fell; Then with his talons snapped in two The mighty bow which Ravan drew. Next with terrific wing he smote So fiercely on the giant's coat, The harness, glittering with the glow Of fire, gave way beneath the blow. With storm of murderous strokes he beat The harnessed asses strong and fleet,-- Each with a goblin's monstrous face And plates of gold his neck to grace.

His words the Maithil lady heard Oppressed by woe but undeterred. Fear of the fiend she cast aside, And thus in noble scorn replied: "His word of honour never stained King Dasaratha nobly reigned, The bridge of right, the friend of truth. His eldest son, a noble youth, Is Rama, virtue's faithful friend, Whose glories through the worlds extend. Long arms and large full eyes has he, My husband, yea a God to me. With shoulders like the forest king's, From old Ikshvaku's line he springs. He with his brother Lakshman's aid Will smite thee with the vengeful blade. Hadst thou but dared before his eyes To lay thine hand upon the prize, Thou stretched before his feet hadst lain In Janasthan like Khara slain. Thy boasted rovers of the night With hideous shapes and giant might,-- Like serpents when the feathered king Swoops down with his tremendous wing,-- Will find their useless venom fail When Rama's mighty arms assail. The rapid arrows bright with gold, Shot from the bow he loves to hold, Will rend thy frame from flank to flank As Ganga's waves erode the bank. Though neither God nor fiend have power To slay thee in the battle hour, Yet from his hand shall come thy fate, Struck down before his vengeful hate. That mighty lord will strike and end The days of life thou hast to spend. Thy days are doomed, thy life is sped Like victims to the pillar led. Yea, if the glance of Rama bright With fury on thy form should light, Thou scorched this day wouldst fall and die Like Kama slain by Rudra's eye.(506) He who from heaven the moon could throw, Or bid its bright rays cease to glow,-- He who could drain the mighty sea Will set his darling Sita free. Fled is thy life, thy glory, fled Thy strength and power: each sense is dead. Soon Lanka widowed by thy guilt Will see the blood of giants spilt. This wicked deed, O cruel King, No triumph, no delight will bring. Thou with outrageous might and scorn A woman from her lord hast torn.

To Lakshman thus he cried: "Brother, I ween, beneath the sun, Of all mankind there lives not one So full of sin, whose hand has done Such cursed deeds as mine. For my sad heart with misery bleeds, As, guerdon of those evil deeds, Still greater woe to woe succeeds In never-ending line. A life of sin I freely chose, And from my past transgression flows A ceaseless flood of bitter woes My folly to repay. The fruit of sin has ripened fast, Through many a sorrow have I passed, And now the crowning grief at last Falls on my head to-day. From all my faithful friends I fled, My sire is numbered with the dead, My royal rank is forfeited, My mother far away. These woes on which I sadly think Fill, till it raves above the brink, The stream of grief in which I sink,-- The flood which naught can stay. Ne'er, brother, ne'er have I complained; Though long by toil and trouble pained, Without a murmur I sustained The woes of woodland life. But fiercer than the flames that rise When crackling wood the food supplies,-- Flashing a glow through evening skies,-- This sorrow for my wife. Some cruel fiend has seized the prey And torn my trembling love away, While, as he bore her through the skies, She shrieked aloud with frantic cries, In tones of fear which, wild and shrill, Retained their native sweetness still. Ah me, that breast so soft and sweet, For sandal's precious perfume meet, Now all detained with dust and gore, Shall meet my fond caress no more. That face, whose lips with tones so clear Made pleasant music, sweet to hear,-- With soft locks plaited o'er the brow,-- Some giant's hand is on it now. It smiles not, as the dear light fails When Rahu's jaw the moon assails. Ah, my true love! that shapely neck She loved with fairest chains to deck, The cruel demons rend, and drain The lifeblood from each mangled vein. Ah, when the savage monsters came And dragged away the helpless dame, The lady of the long soft eye Called like a lamb with piteous cry.

"My brother, known by Bali's name, Had won by might a conqueror's fame. My father's eldest-born was he, Well honoured by his sire and me. My father died, and each sage lord Named Bali king with one accord; And he, by right of birth ordained, The sovereign of the Vanars reigned. He in his royal place controlled The kingdom of our sires of old, And I all faithful service lent To aid my brother's government. The fiend Mayavi,--him of yore To Dundubhi(563) his mother bore,-- For woman's love in strife engaged, A deadly war with Bali waged. When sleep had chained each weary frame To vast Kishkindha(564) gates he came, And, shouting through the shades of night, Challenged his foeman to the fight. My brother heard the furious shout, And wild with rage rushed madly out, Though fain would I and each sad wife Detain him from the deadly strife. He burned his demon foe to slay, And rushed impetuous to the fray. His weeping wives he thrust aside, And forth, impelled by fury, hied; While, by my love and duty led, I followed where my brother sped. Mayavi looked, and at the sight Fled from his foes in wild affright. The flying fiend we quickly viewed, And with swift feet his steps pursued. Then rose the moon, whose friendly ray Cast light upon our headlong way. By the soft beams was dimly shown A mighty cave with grass o'ergrown. Within its depths he sprang, and we The demon's form no more might see. My brother's breast was all aglow With fury when he missed the foe, And, turning, thus to me he said With senses all disquieted: "Here by the cavern's mouth remain; Keep ear and eye upon the strain, While I the dark recess explore And dip my brand in foeman's gore." I heard his angry speech, and tried To turn him from his plan aside. He made me swear by both his feet, And sped within the dark retreat. While in the cave he stayed, and I Watched at the mouth, a year went by. For his return I looked in vain, And, moved by love, believed him slain.

He ceased: and Rama's heart was stirred At every keen reproach he heard. There Bali lay, a dim dark sun, His course of light and glory run: Or like the bed of Ocean dried Of his broad floods from side to side, Or helpless, as the dying fire, Hushed his last words of righteous ire. Then Rama, with his spirit moved, The Vanar king in turn reproved: "Why dost thou, Bali, thus revile, And castest not a glance the while On claims of duty, love, and gain, And customs o'er the world that reign? Why dost thou blame me, rash and blind, Fickle as all thy Vanar kind, Slighting each rule of ancient days Which all the good and prudent praise? This land, each hill and woody chase, Belongs to old Ikshvaku's race: With bird and beast and man, the whole Is ours to cherish and control. Now Bharat, prompt at duty's call, Wise, just, and true, is lord of all. Each claim of law, love, gain he knows, And wrath and favour duly shows. A king from truth who never bends, And grace with vigour wisely blends; With valour worthy of his race, He knows the claims of time and place. Now we and other kings of might, By his ensample taught aright, The lands of every region tread That justice may increase and spread. While royal Bharat, wise and just, Rules the broad earth, his glorious trust, Who shall attempt, while he is lord, A deed by Justice held abhorred? We now, as Bharat has decreed, Let justice guide our every deed, And toil each sinner to repress Who scorns the way of righteousness. Thou from that path hast turned aside, And virtue's holy law defied, Left the fair path which kings should tread, And followed pleasure's voice instead. The man who cleaves to duty's law Regards these three with filial awe-- The sire, the elder brother, third Him from whose lips his lore he heard. Thus too, for duty's sake, the wise Regard with fond paternal eyes The well-loved younger brother, one Their lore has ripened, and a son.

For hear me, Vanar King, rehearse What Manu(597) spake in ancient verse,-- This holy law, which all accept Who honour duty, have I kept: "Pure grow the sinners kings chastise, And, like the virtuous, gain the skies; By pain or full atonement freed, They reap the fruit of righteous deed, While kings who punish not incur The penalties of those who err." Mandhata(598) once, a noble king, Light of the line from which I spring, Punished with death a devotee When he had stooped to sin like thee; And many a king in ancient time Has punished frantic sinners' crime, And, when their impious blood was spilt, Has washed away the stain of guilt. Cease, Bali, cease: no more complain: Reproaches and laments are vain, For thou art justly punished: we Obey our king and are not free. Once more, O Bali, lend thine ear Another weightiest plea to hear. For this, when heard and pondered well, Will all complaint and rage dispel. My soul will ne'er this deed repent, Nor was my shaft in anger sent. We take the silvan tribes beset With snare and trap and gin and net, And many a heedless deer we smite From thickest shade, concealed from sight. Wild for the slaughter of the game, At stately stags our shafts we aim. We strike them bounding scared away, We strike them as they stand at bay, When careless in the shade they lie, Or scan the plain with watchful eye. They turn away their heads; we aim, And none the eager hunter blame. Each royal saint, well trained in law Of duty, loves his bow to draw And strike the quarry, e'en as thou Hast fallen by mine arrow now, Fighting with him or unaware,-- A Vanar thou.--I little care.(599) But yet, O best of Vanars, know That kings who rule the earth bestow Fruit of pure life and virtuous deed, And lofty duty's hard-won meed. Harm not thy lord the king: abstain From act and word that cause him pain; For kings are children of the skies Who walk this earth in men's disguise.

He ceased: and King Sugriva cried To sage Hanuman(642) by his side: "Summon the Vanar legions, those Who dwell about the Lord of Snows: Those who in Vindhyan groves delight, Kailasa's, or Mahendra's height, Dwell on the Five bright Peaks, or where Mandar's white summit cleaves the air: Wherever they are wandring free In highlands by the western sea, On that east hill whence springs the sun, Or where he sinks when day is done. Call the great chiefs whose legions fill The forests of the Lotus Hill,(643) Where every one in strength and size With the stupendous Anjan(644) vies. Call those, with tints of burnished gold Whom Mahasaila's caverns hold: Those who on Dhumra roam, or hide In the wild woods on Meru's side. Call those who, brilliant as the sun, On high Maharun leap and run, Quaffing sweet juices that distil From odorous trees upon the hill, Call those whom tranquil haunts delight, Where dwell the sage and anchorite In groves that through their wide extent Exhale a thousand blossoms' scent. Send out, send out: from coast to coast Assemble all the Vanar host: With force, with words, with gifts of price Compel, admonish and entice. Already envoys have been sent To warn them of their lord's intent. Let others urged by thee repeat My mandate that their steps be fleet. Those lords who yielding to the sway Of love's delight would fain delay, Urge hither with the utmost speed, Or with thee to my presence lead: And those who linger to the last Until ten days be come and passed, And dare their sovereign to defy, For their offence shall surely die. Thousands, yea millions, shall there be, Obedient to their king's decree, The lions of the Vanar race, Assembled from each distant place, Forth shall they haste like hills in size, Or mighty clouds that veil the skies, And swiftly speeding on their way Bring all our legions in array." He ceased: the son of Vayu(645) heard, Submissive to his sovereign's word; And sent his rapid envoys forth To east and west and south and north.

The son of Raghu heard his speech: He cast a hasty look on each Of those brave Vanar chiefs, and while Upon his lips there played a smile, To Lakshman turned and thus expressed The thoughts that moved his gallant breast: "Well versed in Scripture's lore, and sage And duly reverent to age, Is he, with long experience stored, Who counsels like this Vanar lord. Yet here, methinks, for searching eyes Some deeper, subtler matter lies. To you and all the world are known The perils of a monarch's throne, While foe and stranger, kith and kin By his misfortune trust to win. By hope of such advantage led, Vibhishan o'er the sea has fled. He in his brother's stead would reign, And our alliance seeks to gain; And we his offer may embrace, A stranger and of alien race. But if he comes a spy and foe, What power has he to strike a blow In furtherance of his close design? What is his strength compared with mine? And can I, Vanar King, forget The great, the universal debt, Ever to aid and welcome those Who pray for shelter, friends or foes? Hast thou not heard the deathless praise Won by the dove in olden days, Who conquering his fear and hate Welcomed the slayer of his mate, And gave a banquet, to refresh The weary fowler, of his flesh? Now hear me, Vanar King, rehearse What Kandu(929) spoke in ancient verse, Saint Kanva's son who loved the truth And clave to virtue from his youth: "Strike not the suppliant when he stands And asks thee with beseeching hands For shelter: strike him not although He were thy father's mortal foe. No, yield him, be he proud or meek, The shelter which he comes to seek, And save thy foeman, if the deed Should cost thy life, in desperate need." And shall I hear the wretched cry, And my protecting aid deny? Shall I a suppliant's prayer refuse, And heaven and glory basely lose? No, I will do for honour sake E'en as the holy Kandu spake, Preserve a hero's name from stain, And bliss in heaven and glory gain.

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."

Soon as they heard the holy man, To the king's chamber swift they ran With minds disordered all, and spurred To wildest zeal by what they heard. On to the royal hall they sped, There stood and lowly bowed the head, And made the lord of men aware That the great saint was waiting there. The king with priest and peer arose And ran the sage to meet, As Indra from his palace goes Lord Brahma's self to greet. When glowing with celestial light The pious hermit was in sight, The king, whose mien his transport showed, The honoured gift for guests bestowed. Nor did the saint that gift despise, Offered as holy texts advise; He kindly asked the earth's great king How all with him was prospering. The son of Kusik(139) bade him tell If all in town and field were well, All well with friends, and kith and kin, And royal treasure stored within: "Do all thy neighbours own thy sway? Thy foes confess thee yet? Dost thou continue still to pay To Gods and men each debt?" Then he, of hermits first and best, Vasishtha with a smile(140) addressed, And asked him of his welfare too, Showing him honour as was due. Then with the sainted hermit all Went joyous to the monarch's hall, And sate them down by due degree, Each one, of rank and dignity. Joy filled the noble prince's breast Who thus bespoke the honoured guest: "As amrit(141) by a mortal found, As rain upon the thirsty ground, As to an heirless man a son Born to him of his precious one, As gain of what we sorely miss, As sudden dawn of mighty bliss, So is thy coming here to me: All welcome, mighty Saint, to thee. What wish within thy heart hast thou? If I can please thee, tell me how. Hail, Saint, from whom all honours flow, Worthy of all I can bestow. Blest is my birth with fruit to-day, Nor has my life been thrown away. I see the best of Brahman race And night to glorious morn gives place. Thou, holy Sage, in days of old Among the royal saints enrolled, Didst, penance-glorified, within The Brahman caste high station win.

She ceased. The troubled damsel sighed Sighs long and hot, and thus replied: "What madness has possessed thy mind, To warnings deaf, to dangers blind? Canst thou not see the floods of woe That threaten o'er thine head to flow: First Rama will the throne acquire, Then Rama's son succeed his sire, While Bharat will neglected pine Excluded from the royal line. Not all his sons, O lady fair, The kingdom of a monarch share: All ruling when a sovereign dies Wild tumult in the state would rise. The eldest, be he good or ill, Is ruler by the father's will. Know, tender mother, that thy son Without a friend and all undone, Far from the joyous ease of home An alien from his race will roam. I sped to thee for whom I feel, But thy fond heart mistakes my zeal, Thy hand a present would bestow Because thy rival triumphs so. When Rama once begins his sway Without a foe his will to stay, Thy darling Bharat he will drive To distant lands if left alive. By thee the child was sent away Beneath his grandsire's roof to stay. Even in stocks and stones perforce Will friendship spring from intercourse. The young Satrughna too would go With Bharat, for he loved him so. As Lakshman still to Rama cleaves, He his dear Bharat never leaves. There is an ancient tale they tell: A tree the foresters would fell Was saved by reeds that round it stood, For love that sprang of neighbourhood. So Lakshman Rama will defend, And each on each for aid depend. Such fame on earth their friendship wins As that which binds the Heavenly Twins. And Rama ne'er will purpose wrong To Lakshman, for their love is strong. But Bharat, Oh, of this be sure, Must evil at his hands endure. Come, Rama from his home expel An exile in the woods to dwell. The plan, O Queen, which I advise Secures thy weal if thou be wise. So we and all thy kith and kin Advantage from thy gain shall win. Shall Bharat, meet for happier fate, Born to endure his rival's hate, With all his fortune ruined cower And dread his brother's mightier power!

When Rama saw her lying low, Prostrate by too severe a blow, Around her form his arms he wound And raised her fainting from the ground. His hand upheld her like a mare Who feels her load too sore to bear, And sinks upon the way o'ertoiled, And all her limbs with dust are soiled. He soothed her in her wild distress With loving touch and soft caress. She, meet for highest fortune, eyed The hero watching by her side, And thus, while Lakshman bent to hear, Addressed her son with many a tear! "If, Rama, thou had ne'er been born My child to make thy mother mourn, Though reft of joy, a childless queen, Such woe as this I ne'er had seen. Though to the childless wife there clings One sorrow armed with keenest stings, "No child have I: no child have I," No second misery prompts the sigh. When long I sought, alas, in vain, My husband's love and bliss to gain, In Rama all my hopes I set And dreamed I might be happy yet. I, of the consorts first and best, Must bear my rivals' taunt and jest, And brook, though better far than they, The soul distressing words they say. What woman can be doomed to pine In misery more sore than mine, Whose hopeless days must still be spent In grief that ends not and lament? They scorned me when my son was nigh; When he is banished I must die. Me, whom my husband never prized, Kaikeyi's retinue despised With boundless insolence, though she Tops not in rank nor equals me. And they who do me service yet, Nor old allegiance quite forget, Whene'er they see Kaikeyi's son, With silent lips my glances shun. How, O my darling, shall I brook Each menace of Kaikeyi's look, And listen, in my low estate, To taunts of one so passionate? For seventeen years since thou wast born I sat and watched, ah me, forlorn! Hoping some blessed day to see Deliverance from my woes by thee. Now comes this endless grief and wrong, So dire I cannot bear it long, Sinking, with age and sorrow worn, Beneath my rivals' taunts and scorn.

Guha the king, acquainted well With all that in the wood befell, To Bharat the unequalled told The tale of Lakshman mighty-souled: "With many an earnest word I spake To Lakshman as he stayed awake, And with his bow and shaft in hand To guard his brother kept his stand: "Now sleep a little, Lakshman, see This pleasant bed is strewn for thee: Hereon thy weary body lay, And strengthen thee with rest, I pray, Inured to toil are men like these, But thou hast aye been nursed in ease. Rest, duteous-minded! I will keep My watch while Rama lies asleep: For in the whole wide world is none Dearer to me than Raghu's son. Harbour no doubt or jealous fear: I speak the truth with heart sincere: For from the grace which he has shown Will glory on my name be thrown: Great store of merit shall I gain, And duteous, form no wish in vain. Let me enforced by many a row Of followers, armed with shaft and bow For well-loved Rama's weal provide Who lies asleep by Sita's side. For through this wood I often go, And all its shades conceal I know: And we with conquering arms can meet A four-fold host arrayed complete." "With words like these I spoke, designed To move the high-souled Bharat's mind, But he upon his duty bent, Plied his persuasive argument: "O, how can slumber close mine eyes When lowly couched with Sita lies The royal Rama? can I give My heart to joy, or even live? He whom no mighty demon, no, Nor heavenly God can overthrow, See, Guha, how he lies, alas, With Sita couched on gathered grass. By varied labours, long, severe, By many a prayer and rite austere, He, Dasaratha's cherished son, By Fortune stamped, from Heaven was won. Now as his son is forced to fly, The king ere long will surely die: Reft of his guardian hand, forlorn In widowed grief this land will mourn. E'en now perhaps, with toil o'erspent, The women cease their loud lament, And cries of woe no longer ring Throughout the palace of the king. But ah for sad Kausalya! how Fare she and mine own mother now?

Soon as the Maithil lady knew That high through air the giant flew, Distressed with grief and sore afraid Her troubled spirit sank dismayed. Then, as anew the waters welled From those red eyes which sorrow swelled, Forth in keen words her passion broke, And to the fierce-eyed fiend she spoke: "Canst thou attempt a deed so base, Untroubled by the deep disgrace,-- To steal me from my home and fly, When friend or guardian none was nigh? Thy craven soul that longed to steal, Fearing the blows that warriors deal, Upon a magic deer relied To lure my husband from my side, Friend of his sire, the vulture king Lies low on earth with mangled wing, Who gave his aged life for me And died for her he sought to free. Ah, glorious strength indeed is thine, Thou meanest of thy giant line, Whose courage dared to tell thy name And conquer in the fight a dame. Does the vile deed that thou hast done Cause thee no shame, thou wicked one-- A woman from her home to rend When none was near his aid to lend? Through all the worlds, O giant King, The tidings of this deed will ring, This deed in law and honour's spite By one who claims a hero's might. Shame on thy boasted valour, shame! Thy prowess is an empty name. Shame, giant, on this cursed deed For which thy race is doomed to bleed! Thou fliest swifter than the gale, For what can strength like thine avail? Stay for one hour, O Ravan, stay; Thou shalt not flee with life away. Soon as the royal chieftains' sight Falls on the thief who roams by night, Thou wilt not, tyrant, live one hour Though backed by all thy legions' power. Ne'er can thy puny strength sustain The tempest of their arrowy rain: Have e'er the trembling birds withstood The wild flames raging in the wood? Hear me, O Ravan, let me go, And save thy soul from coming woe. Or if thou wilt not set me free, Wroth for this insult done to me. With his brave brother's aid my lord Against thy life will raise his sword.

A thousand beauties fill my hall: Be thou my wife and rule them all. O hear my supplication! why This reasonable prayer deny? Some pity to thy suitor show, For love's hot flames within me glow. This isle a hundred leagues in length, Encompassed by the ocean's strength, Would all the Gods and fiends defy Though led by Him who rules the sky. No God in heaven, no sage on earth, No minstrel of celestial birth, No spirit in the worlds I see A match in power and might for me. What wilt thou do with Rama, him Whose days are short, whose light is dim, Expelled from home and royal sway, Who treads on foot his weary way? Leave the poor mortal to his fate, And wed thee with a worthier mate. My timid love, enjoy with me The prime of youth before it flee. Do not one hour the hope retain To look on Rama's face again. For whom would wildest thought beguile To seek thee in the giants' isle? Say who is he has power to bind In toils of net the rushing wind. Whose is the mighty hand will tame And hold the glory of the flame? In all the worlds above, below, Not one, O fair of form, I know Who from this isle in fight could rend The lady whom these arms defend. Fair Queen, o'er Lanka's island reign, Sole mistress of the wide domain. Gods, rovers of the night like me, And all the world thy slaves will be. O'er thy fair brows and queenly head Let consecrating balm be shed, And sorrow banished from thy breast, Enjoy my love and take thy rest. Here never more thy soul shall know The memory of thy former woe, And here shall thou enjoy the meed Deserved by every virtuous deed. Here garlands glow of flowery twine, With gorgeous hues and scent divine. Take gold and gems and rich attire: Enjoy with me thy heart's desire. There stand, of chariots far the best, The car my brother once possessed. Which, victor in the stricken field, I forced the Lord of Gold to yield. 'Tis wide and high and nobly wrought, Bright as the sun and swift as thought.

The hours of night now waning fast On Sona's pleasant shore they passed. Then, when the dawn began to break, To Rama thus the hermit spake: "The light of dawn is breaking clear, The hour of morning rites is near. Rise, Rama, rise, dear son, I pray, And make thee ready for the way."

So to his grief he would not yield Lest the sad change their hearts might rend, And, the dread tiding unrevealed, Spared from the blow each faithful friend.

As the sad tale of sin I told The hermit's grief was uncontrolled. With flooded eyes, and sorrow-faint, Thus spake the venerable saint: I stood with hand to hand applied, And listened as he spoke and sighed: "If thou, O King, hadst left unsaid By thine own tongue this tale of dread, Thy head for hideous guilt accursed Had in a thousand pieces burst. A hermit's blood by warrior spilt, In such a case, with purposed guilt, Down from his high estate would bring Even the thunder's mighty King. And he a dart who conscious sends Against the devotee who spends His pure life by the law of Heaven-- That sinner's head will split in seven. Thou livest, for thy heedless hand Has wrought a deed thou hast not planned, Else thou and all of Raghu's line Had perished by this act of thine. Now guide us," thus the hermit said, "Forth to the spot where he lies dead. Guide us, this day, O Monarch, we For the last time our son would see: The hermit dress of skin he wore Rent from his limbs distained with gore; His senseless body lying slain, His soul in Yama's dark domain."

He ceased: and Lanka made reply: "The guardian of the town am I, Who watch for ever to fulfil My lord the Rakshas monarch's will. But thou shalt fall this hour, and deep Shall be thy never-ending sleep."