Ramayana on Dharma

As Guha thus, and Bharat, each To other spoke in friendly speech, The Day-God sank with glory dead, And night o'er all the sky was spread. Soon as King Guha's thoughtful care Had quartered all the army there, Well honoured, Bharat laid his head Beside Satrughna on a bed. But grief for Rama yet oppressed High-minded Bharat's faithful breast-- Such torment little was deserved By him who ne'er from duty swerved. The fever raged through every vein And burnt him with its inward pain: So when in woods the flames leap free The fire within consumes the tree. From heat of burning anguish sprung The sweat upon his body hung, As when the sun with fervid glow On high Himalaya melts the snow. As, banished from the herd, a bull Wanders alone and sorrowful. Thus sighing and distressed, In misery and bitter grief, With fevered heart that mocked relief, Distracted in his mind, the chief Still mourned and found no rest.

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

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

Thus he on mighty thoughts intent; Then thus the sage most eloquent: "King Dasaratha's sons, this pair Of warriors famous everywhere, Are come that best of bows to see That lies a treasure stored by thee. This, mighty Janak, deign to show, That they may look upon the bow, And then, contented, homeward go." Then royal Janak spoke in turn: "O best of Saints, the story learn Why this famed bow, a noble prize, A treasure in my palace lies. A monarch, Devarat by name, Who sixth from ancient Nimi came, Held it as ruler of the land, A pledge in his successive hand. This bow the mighty Rudra bore At Daksha's(245) sacrifice of yore, When carnage of the Immortals stained The rite that Daksha had ordained. Then as the Gods sore wounded fled, Victorious Rudra, mocking, said: "Because, O Gods, ye gave me naught When I my rightful portion sought, Your dearest parts I will not spare, But with my bow your frames will tear."

With ripened judgment of a sage, And godlike in his blooming age, When shall my virtuous son appear, Like kindly rain, our hearts to cheer? Ah, in a former life, I ween, This hand of mine, most base and mean, Has dried the udders of the kine And left the thirsty calves to pine. Hence, as the lion robs the cow, Kaikeyi makes me childless now, Exulting from her feebler foe To rend the son she cherished so. I had but him, in Scripture skilled, With every grace his soul was filled. Now not a joy has life to give, And robbed of him I would not live: Yea, all my days are dark and drear If he, my darling, be not near, And Lakshman brave, my heart to cheer. As for my son I mourn and yearn, The quenchless flames of anguish burn And kill me with the pain, As in the summer's noontide blaze The glorious Day-God with his rays Consumes the parching plain."

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

The great Vasishtha, thus addressed, Arch-hermit of the holy breast, To Visvamitra answer made, The king whom all the land obeyed: "Not for a hundred thousand,--nay, Not if ten million thou wouldst pay, With silver heaps the price to swell,-- Will I my cow, O Monarch, sell. Unmeet for her is such a fate. That I my friend should alienate. As glory with the virtuous, she For ever makes her home with me. On her mine offerings which ascend To Gods and spirits all depend: My very life is due to her, My guardian, friend, and minister. The feeding of the sacred flame,(223) The dole which living creatures claim.(224) The mighty sacrifice by fire, Each formula the rites require,(225) And various saving lore beside, Are by her aid, in sooth, supplied. The banquet which thy host has shared, Believe it, was by her prepared, In her mine only treasures lie, She cheers mine heart and charms mine eye. And reasons more could I assign Why Dapple-skin can ne'er be thine."

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

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

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

As thus the maid in wrath complained, Kaikeyi saw her heart was pained, And answered eager in defence Of Rama's worth and excellence: "Nay, Rama, born the monarch's heir, By holy fathers trained with care, Virtuous, grateful, pure, and true, Claims royal sway as rightly due. He, like a sire, will long defend Each brother, minister, and friend. Then why, O hump-back, art thou pained To hear that he the throne has gained? Be sure when Rama's empire ends, The kingdom to my son descends, Who, when a hundred years are flown, Shall sit upon his fathers' throne. Why is thine heart thus sad to see The joy that is and long shall be, This fortune by possession sure And hopes which we may count secure? Dear as the darling son I bore Is Rama, yea, or even more. Most duteous to Kausalya, he Is yet more dutiful to me. What though he rule, we need not fear: His brethren to his soul are dear. And if the throne Prince Rama fill Bharat will share the empire still."

He spoke: and Janak's hapless child, Scared by his speech so fierce and wild, Trembled for terror, as a frail Young plantain shivers in the gale. When Rama saw Viradha clasp Fair Sita in his mighty grasp, Thus with pale lips that terror dried The hero to his brother cried: "O see Viradha's arm enfold My darling in its cursed hold,-- The child of Janak best of kings, My spouse whose soul to virtue clings, Sweet princess, with pure glory bright, Nursed in the lap of soft delight. Now falls the blow Kaikeyi meant, Successful in her dark intent: This day her cruel soul will be Triumphant over thee and me. Though Bharat on the throne is set, Her greedy eyes look farther yet: Me from my home she dared expel, Me whom all creatures loved so well. This fatal day at length, I ween, Brings triumph to the younger queen. I see with bitterest grief and shame Another touch the Maithil dame. Not loss of sire and royal power So grieves me as this mournful hour."

Whate'er, by duty won, the meed Of saints whom roots and berries feed, One fourth thereof, for tender care Of subjects, is the monarch's share. These, mostly of the Brahman race, Who make the wood their dwelling-place, Although a friend in thee they view, Fall friendless neath the giant crew. Come, Rama, come, and see hard by The holy hermits' corpses lie, Where many a tangled pathway shows The murderous work of cruel foes. These wicked fiends the hermits kill-- Who live on Chitrakuta's hill, And blood of slaughtered saints has dyed Mandakini and Pampa's side. No longer can we bear to see The death of saint and devotee Whom through the forest day by day These Rakshasas unpitying slay. To thee, O Prince, we flee, and crave Thy guardian help our lives to save. From these fierce rovers of the night Defend each stricken anchorite. Throughout the world 'twere vain to seek An arm like thine to aid the weak. O Prince, we pray thee hear our call, And from these fiends preserve us all."

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

As on their way the Vanars went To rouse each distant armament, They chanced that wondrous tree to view That on Himalaya's summit grew. Of old upon that sacred height Was wrought Mahesvar's(648) glorious rite, Which every God in heaven beheld, And his glad heart with triumph swelled. There from pure seed at random sown Bright plants with luscious fruit had grown, And, sweet as Amrit to the taste, The summit of the mountain graced. Who once should eat the virtuous fruit That sprang from so divine a root, One whole revolving moon should be From every pang of hunger free. The Vanars culled the fruit they found Ripe on the sacrificial ground With rare celestial odours sweet, To lay them at Sugriva's feet. Those noble envoys scoured the land To summon every Vanar band Then swiftly homeward at the head Of countless armaments they sped. They gathered by Kishkindha's wall. They thronged Sugriva's palace hall, And, richly laden, bare within That fruit of heavenly origin. Their gifts before their king they spread, And thus in tones of triumph said:

"'Twas meet that mid the thousands here The searching fire my queen should clear; For long within the giant's bower She dwelt the vassal of his power. For else had many a slanderous tongue Reproaches on mine honour flung, And scorned the king who, love-impelled, His consort from the proof withheld. No doubt had I, but surely knew That Janak's child was pure and true, That, come what might, in good and ill Her faithful heart was with me still. I knew that Ravan could not wrong My queen whom virtue made so strong. I knew his heart would sink and fail, Nor dare her honour to assail, As Ocean, when he raves and roars, Fears to o'erleap his bounding shores. Now to the worlds her truth is shown, And Sita is again mine own. Thus proved before unnumbered eyes, On her pure fame no shadow lies. As heroes to their glory cleave, Mine own dear spouse I ne'er will leave." He ceased: and clasped in fond embrace On his dear breast she hid her face.

Thus in the hermits' holy shade Mother and son their compact made, And then, as fame relates, content, Home to the happy skies they went. This is the spot--so men have told-- Where Lord Mahendra(215) dwelt of old, This is the blessed region where His votaress mother claimed his care. Here gentle Alambusha bare To old Ikshvaku, king and sage, Visala, glory of his age, By whom, a monarch void of guilt, Was this fair town Visala built. His son was Hemachandra, still Renowned for might and warlike skill. From him the great Suchandra came; His son, Dhumrasva, dear to fame. Next followed royal Srinjay; then Famed Sahadeva, lord of men. Next came Kusasva, good and mild, Whose son was Somadatta styled, And Sumati, his heir, the peer Of Gods above, now governs here. And ever through Ikshvaku's grace, Visala's kings, his noble race, Are lofty-souled, and blest with length Of days, with virtue, and with strength. This night, O prince, we here will sleep; And when the day begins to peep, Our onward way will take with thee, The king of Mithila to see."

His eyes with burning wrath aglow, Satrughna, shatterer of the foe, Dragged on the ground the hump-back maid Who shrieked aloud and screamed for aid. This way and that with no remorse He dragged her with resistless force, And chains and glittering trinkets burst Lay here and there with gems dispersed, Till like the sky of Autumn shone The palace floor they sparkled on. The lord of men, supremely strong, Haled in his rage the wretch along: Where Queen Kaikeyi dwelt he came, And sternly then addressed the dame. Deep in her heart Kaikeyi felt The stabs his keen reproaches dealt, And of Satrughna's ire afraid, To Bharat flew and cried for aid. He looked and saw the prince inflamed With burning rage, and thus exclaimed: "Forgive! thine angry arm restrain: A woman never may be slain. My hand Kaikeyi's blood would spill, The sinner ever bent on ill, But Rama, long in duty tried, Would hate the impious matricide: And if he knew thy vengeful blade Had slaughtered e'en this hump-back maid, Never again, be sure, would he Speak friendly word to thee or me."

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

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

His breast with burning fury fired, Thus Khara of the fiend inquired: And then with many a tear and sigh Thus Surpanakha made reply: "'Tis Dasaratha's sons, a pair Strong, resolute, and young, and fair: In coats of dark and blackdeer's hide, And like the radiant lotus eyed: On berries roots and fruit they feed, And lives of saintly virtue lead: With ordered senses undefiled, Rama and Lakshman are they styled. Fair as the Minstrels' King(460) are they, And stamped with signs of regal sway. I know not if the heroes trace Their line from Gods or Danav(461) race. There by these wondering eyes between The noble youths a dame was seen, Fair, blooming, young, with dainty waist, And all her bright apparel graced. For her with ready heart and mind The royal pair their strength combined, And brought me to this last distress, Like some lost woman, comfortless. Perfidious wretch! my soul is fain Her foaming blood and theirs to drain. O let me head the vengeful fight, And with this hand my murderers smite. Come, brother, hasten to fulfil This longing of my eager will. On to the battle! Let me drink Their lifeblood as to earth they sink."

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

The saint Vasishtha gave assent, And quickly to the task he went, With Visvamitra, nothing loth, And Satananda aiding both. Then, as the rules prescribe, they made An altar in the midst, and laid Fresh wreaths of fragrant flowers thereon. The golden ladles round it shone; And many a vase, which branches hid Fixed in the perforated lid, And sprays, and cups, and censers there Stood filled with incense rich and rare; Shell-bowls, and spoons, and salvers dressed With gifts that greet the honoured guest; Piles of parched rice some dishes bore, Others with corn prepared ran o'er; And holy grass was duly spread In equal lengths, while prayers were said. Next chief of saints, Vasishtha came And laid the offering in the flame. Then by the hand King Janak drew His Sita, beautiful to view, And placed her, bright in rich attire, Rama to face, before the fire, Thus speaking to the royal boy Who filled Kausalya's heart with joy: "Here Sita stands, my daughter fair, The duties of thy life to share. Take from her father, take thy bride; Join hand to hand, and bliss betide! A faithful wife, most blest is she, And as thy shade will follow thee."

The aged monarch gazed awhile, Then thus addressed him with a smile, As Kasyap, whom the worlds revere, Speaks for the Lord of Gods to hear: "O thou of all my sons most dear, In virtue best, thy father's peer, Child of my consort first in place, Mine equal in her pride of race, Because the people's hearts are bound To thee by graces in thee found, Be thou in Pushya's favouring hour Made partner of my royal power. I know that thou by nature's bent Both modest art and excellent, But though thy gifts no counsel need My love suggests the friendly rede. Mine own dear son, be modest still, And rule each sense with earnest will. Keep thou the evils far away That spring from love and anger's sway. Thy noble course alike pursue In secret as in open view, And every nerve, the love to gain Of ministers and subjects, strain. The happy prince who sees with pride His thriving people satisfied; Whose arsenals with arms are stored, And treasury with golden hoard,-- His friends rejoice as joyed the Blest When Amrit crowned their eager quest. So well, my child, thy course maintain, And from all ill thy soul refrain."

When thus the archer king was bound, With treacherous arts and oaths enwound, She to her bounteous lord subdued By blinding love, her speech renewed: "Remember, King, that long-past day Of Gods' and demons' battle fray. And how thy foe in doubtful strife Had nigh bereft thee of thy life. Remember, it was only I Preserved thee when about to die, And thou for watchful love and care Wouldst grant my first and second prayer. Those offered boons, pledged with thee then, I now demand, O King of men, Of thee, O Monarch, good and just, Whose righteous soul observes each trust. If thou refuse thy promise sworn, I die, despised, before the morn. These rites in Rama's name begun-- Transfer them, and enthrone my son. The time is come to claim at last The double boon of days long-past, When Gods and demons met in fight, And thou wouldst fain my care requite. Now forth to Dandak's forest drive Thy Rama for nine years and five, And let him dwell a hermit there With deerskin coat and matted hair. Without a rival let my boy The empire of the land enjoy, And let mine eyes ere morning see Thy Rama to the forest flee."

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

And then the king, of virtuous mind, A blood-red wreath around him twined, Forth on an ass-drawn chariot sped, As southward still he bent his head. Then, crimson-clad, a dame appeared Who at the monarch laughed and jeered; And a she-monster, dire to view, Her hand upon his body threw. Such is the dream I dreamt by night, Which chills me yet with wild affright: Either the king or Rama, I Or Lakshman now must surely die. For when an ass-drawn chariot seems To bear away a man in dreams, Be sure above his funeral pyre The smoke soon rears its cloudy spire. This makes my spirit low and weak, My tongue is slow and loth to speak: My lips and throat are dry for dread, And all my soul disquieted. My lips, relaxed, can hardly speak, And chilling dread has changed my cheek I blame myself in aimless fears, And still no cause of blame appears. I dwell upon this dream of ill Whose changing scenes I viewed, And on the startling horror still My troubled thoughts will brood. Still to my soul these terrors cling, Reluctant to depart, And the strange vision of the king Still weighs upon my heart."

When Savari had sought the skies And gained her splendid virtue's prize, Rama with Lakshman stayed to brood O'er the strange scenes their eyes had viewed. His mind upon those saints was bent, For power and might preeminent And he to musing Lakshman spoke The thoughts that in his bosom woke: "Mine eyes this wondrous home have viewed Of those great saints with souls subdued, Where peaceful tigers dwell and birds, And deer abound in heedless herds. Our feet upon the banks have stood Of those seven lakes within the wood, Where we have duly dipped, and paid Libations to each royal shade. Forgotten now are thoughts of ill And joyful hopes my bosom fill. Again my heart is light and gay And grief and care have passed away. Come, brother, let us hasten where Bright Pampa's flood is fresh and fair, And towering in their beauty near Mount Rishyamuka's heights appear, Which, offspring of the Lord of Light, Still fearing Bali's conquering might, With four brave chiefs of Vanar race Sugriva makes his dwelling-place. I long with eager heart to find That leader of the Vanar kind, For on that chief my hopes depend That this our quest have prosperous end."

A captive in the snare of truth, Weeping, distressed with woe and ruth, Thus spake the monarch, while the queen Kaikeyi urged him on unseen: "Go then, O Rama, and begin Thy course unvext by fear and sin: Go, my beloved son, and earn Success, and joy, and safe return. So fast the bonds of duty bind. O Raghu's son, thy truthful mind, That naught can turn thee back, or guide Thy will so strongly fortified. But O, a little longer stay, Nor turn thy steps this night away, That I one little day---alas! One only---with my son may pass. Me and thy mother do not slight, But stay, my son, with me to-night; With every dainty please thy taste, And seek to-morrow morn the waste. Hard is thy task, O Raghu's son, Dire is the toil thou wilt not shun, Far to the lonely wood to flee, And leave thy friends for love of me. I swear it by my truth, believe, For thee, my son, I deeply grieve, Misguided by the traitress dame With hidden guile like smouldering flame. Now, by her wicked counsel stirred, Thou fain wouldst keep my plighted word. No marvel that my eldest born Would hold me true when I have sworn."

Joy gleamed in Bhardvaja's eye, Who gently smiled and made reply: "Thy brother, studious of thy will, Is faithful and obedient still. In tangled twine he coils his hair: Thy safe return is all his care. Before thy shoes he humbly bends, And to thy house and realm attends. When first these dreary years began, When first I saw the banished man, With Sita, in his hermit coat, At this sad heart compassion smote. My breast with tender pity swelled: I saw thee from thy home expelled, Reft of all princely state, forlorn, A hapless wanderer travel-worn, Firm in thy purpose to fulfil Thy duty and thy father's will. But boundless is my rapture now: Triumphant, girt with friends, art thou. Where'er thy wandering steps have been, Thy joy and woe mine eyes have seen. Thy glorious deeds to me art known, The Brahmans saved, the foes o'erthrown. Such power have countless seasons spent In penance and devotion lent. Thy virtues, best of chiefs, I know, And now a boon would fain bestow. This hospitable gift(1024) receive: Then with the dawn my dwelling leave." The bended head of Rama showed His reverence for the grace bestowed; Then for each brave companion's sake He sought a further boon and spake:

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

The queen's stern speech the monarch heard, As rage and grief her bosom stirred, And by his anguish sore oppressed Reflected in his secret breast. Fainting and sad, with woe distraught, He wandered in a maze of thought; At length the queller of the foe Grew conscious, rallying from his woe. When consciousness returned anew Long burning sighs the monarch drew, Again immersed in thought he eyed Kausalya standing by his side. Back to his pondering soul was brought The direful deed his hand had wrought, When, guiltless of the wrong intent, His arrow at a sound was sent. Distracted by his memory's sting, And mourning for his son, the king To two consuming griefs a prey, A miserable victim lay. The double woe devoured him fast, As on the ground his eyes he cast, Joined suppliant hands, her heart to touch, And spake in the answer, trembling much: "Kausalya, for thy grace I sue, Joining these hands as suppliants do. Thou e'en to foes hast ever been A gentle, good, and loving queen. Her lord, with noble virtues graced, Her lord, by lack of all debased, Is still a God in woman's eyes, If duty's law she hold and prize. Thou, who the right hast aye pursued, Life's changes and its chances viewed, Shouldst never launch, though sorrow-stirred, At me distressed, one bitter word."

He spoke no more: and Angad heard The menace of the mighty bird; And thus, while anguish filled his breast, The noble Hanuman addressed: "Vivasvat's(762) son has sought this place For vengeance on the Vanar race. See, Yama, wroth for Sita's sake, Is come our guilty lives to take. Our king's decree is left undone, And naught achieved for Raghu's son. In duty have we failed, and hence Comes punishment for dire offence. Have we not heard the marvels wrought By King Jatayus,(763) how he fought With Ravan's might, and, nobly brave, Perished, the Maithil queen to save? There is no living creature, none, But loves to die for Raghu's son, And in long toils and dangers we Have placed our lives in jeopardy. Blest is Jatayus, he who gave His life the Maithil queen to save, And proved his love for Rama well When by the giant's hand he fell. Now raised to bliss and high renown He fears not fierce Sugriva's frown. Alas, alas! what miseries spring From that rash promise of the king!(764) His own sad death, and Rama sent With Lakshman forth to banishment: The Maithil lady borne away: Jatayus slain in mortal fray: The fall of Bali when the dart Of Rama quivered in his heart: And, after toil and pain and care, Our misery and deep despair."

The nobles hasting forth fulfilled His order as Satrughna willed. Sublime on elephants they rode Whose gilded girths with jewels glowed. Attended close by thousands more Gay with the gear and flags they bore. A thousand chiefs their steeds bestrode, Their glittering cars a thousand showed. And countless hosts in rich array Pursued on foot their eager way. Veiled from the air with silken screens In litters rode the widowed queens. Kausalya first, acknowledged head And sovereign of the household, led: Sumitra next, and after, dames Of lower rank and humbler names. Then compassed by a white-robed throng Of Brahmans, heralded with song, With shouts of joy from countless throats, And shells' and tambours' mingled notes, And drums resounding long and loud, Exulting Bharat joined the crowd. Still on his head, well-trained in lore Of duty, Rama's shoes he bore. The moon-white canopy was spread With flowery twine engarlanded, And jewelled cheuries, meet to hold O'er Rama's brow, shone bright with gold, Though Nandigrama's town they neared, Of Rama yet no sign appeared. Then Bharat called the Vanar chief And questioned thus in doubt and grief: "Hast thou uncertain, like thy kind, A sweet delusive guile designed? Where, where is royal Rama? show The hero, victor of the foe. I gaze, but see no Vanars still Who wear each varied shape at will."

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

The queen, by Rama thus addressed, Still with a mother's grief oppressed, While her long eyes with tears were dim, Began once more and answered him: "Not by my pleading may be stayed The firm resolve thy soul has made. My hero, thou wilt go; and none The stern commands of Fate may shun. Go forth, dear child whom naught can bend, And may all bliss thy steps attend. Thou wilt return, and that dear day Will chase mine every grief away. Thou wilt return, thy duty done, Thy vows discharged, high glory won; From filial debt wilt thou be free, And sweetest joy will come on me. My son, the will of mighty Fate At every time must dominate, If now it drives thee hence to stray Heedless of me who bid thee stay. Go, strong of arm, go forth, my boy, Go forth, again to come with joy, And thine expectant mother cheer With those sweet tones she loves to hear. O that the blessed hour were nigh When thou shalt glad this anxious eye, With matted hair and hermit dress returning from the wilderness." Kausalya's conscious soul approved, As her proud glance she bent On Rama constant and unmoved, Resolved on banishment. Such words, with happy omens fraught To her dear son she said, Invoking with each eager thought A blessing on his head.

As Rama spake, his eyes were bent Upon a hermit settlement With light of heavenly lore endued, With sacred grass and vesture strewed. His wife and brother by his side, Within the holy bounds he hied, And there, with honour entertained By all the saints, a while remained. In time, by due succession led, Each votary's cot he visited, And then the lord of martial lore, Returned where he had lodged before. Here for the months, content, he stayed, There for a year his visit paid: Here for four months his home would fix, There, as it chanced, for five or six. Here for eight months and there for three The son of Raghu's stay would be: Here weeks, there fortnights, more or less, He spent in tranquil happiness. As there the hero dwelt at ease Among those holy devotees, In days untroubled o'er his head Ten circling years of pleasure fled. So Raghu's son in duty trained A while in every cot remained, Then with his dame retraced the road To good Sutikshna's calm abode. Hailed by the saints with honours due Near to the hermit's home he drew, And there the tamer of his foes Dwelt for a time in sweet repose. One day within that holy wood By saint Sutikshna Rama stood, And thus the prince with reverence meek To that high sage began to speak:

So thou whom fate and folly lead To ruin for this guilty deed, Shalt die by Rama's arm ere long A dreadful death for hideous wrong. Ah, too successful in their ends Are Queen Kaikeyi and her friends, When virtuous Rama, dear to fame, Is mourning for his ravished dame. Ah me, ah me! a long farewell To lawn and glade and forest dell In Janasthan's wild region, where The Cassia trees are bright and fair With all your tongues to Rama say That Ravan bears his wife away. Farewell, a long farewell to thee, O pleasant stream Godavari, Whose rippling waves are ever stirred By many a glad wild water-bird! All ye to Rama's ear relate The giant's deed and Sita's fate. O all ye Gods who love this ground Where trees of every leaf abound, Tell Rama I am stolen hence, I pray you all with reverence. On all the living things beside That these dark boughs and coverts hide, Ye flocks of birds, ye troops of deer, I call on you my prayer to hear. All ye to Rama's ear proclaim That Ravan tears away his dame With forceful arms,--his darling wife, Dearer to Rama than his life. O, if he knew I dwelt in hell, My mighty lord, I know full well, Would bring me, conqueror, back to-day, Though Yama's self reclaimed his prey."

My glorious husband far away, Making heroic strength his stay, Dwells with his brother, void of fear, In Dandak forest lone and drear. No more in force of arms confide: That haughty strength, that power and pride My hero with his arrowy rain From all thy bleeding limbs will drain. When urged by fate's dire mandate, nigh Comes the fixt hour for men to die. Caught in Death's toils their eyes are blind, And folly takes each wandering mind. So for the outrage thou hast done The fate is near thou canst not shun,-- The fate that on thyself and all Thy giants and thy town shall fall. I spurn thee: can the altar dight With vessels for the sacred rite, O'er which the priest his prayer has said, Be sullied by an outcaste's tread? So me, the consort dear and true Of him who clings to virtue too, Thy hated touch shall ne'er defile, Base tyrant lord of Lanka's isle. Can the white swan who floats in pride Through lilies by her consort's side, Look for one moment, as they pass, On the poor diver in the grass? This senseless body waits thy will, To torture, chain, to wound or kill. I will not, King of giants, strive To keep this fleeting soul alive But never shall they join the name Of Sita with reproach and shame."

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

But Ravan's breast with fury swelled, And thus he spake by Death impelled, While, under brows in anger bent, Fierce glances from his eyes were sent: "The bitter words which thou, misled By friendly thought, hast fondly said, Which praise the foe and counsel fear, Unheeded fall upon mine ear. How canst thou deem a mighty foe This Rama who, in stress of woe, Seeks, banished as his sire decreed, Assistance from the Vanar breed? Am I so feeble in thine eyes, Though feared by dwellers of the skies,-- Whose might in many a battle shown The glorious race of giants own? Shall I for fear of him restore The lady whom I hither bore, Exceeding fair like Beauty's Queen(944) Without her well-loved lotus seen? Around the chief let Lakshman stand, Sugriva, and each Vanar band, Soon, Malyavan, thine eyes will see This boasted Rama slain by me. I in the brunt of war defy The mightiest warriors of the sky; And if I stoop to combat men, Shall I be weak and tremble then? This mangled trunk the foe may rend, But Ravan ne'er can yield or bend, And be it vice or virtue, I This nature never will belie. What marvel if he bridged the sea? Why should this deed disquiet thee? This, only this, I surely know, Back with his life he shall not go."

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

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

He saw her weep whose offspring feed In thousands over hill and mead, And knew that in a mother's eye Naught with a son, for love, can vie. He deemed her, when the tears that came From her sad eyes bedewed his frame, Laden with their celestial scent, Of living things most excellent. If she these tears of sorrow shed Who many a thousand children bred, Think what a life of woe is left Kausalya, of her Rama reft. An only son was hers and she Is rendered childless now by thee. Here and hereafter, for thy crime, Woe is thy lot through endless time. And now, O Queen, without delay, With all due honour will I pay Both to my brother and my sire The rites their several fates require. Back to Ayodhya will I bring The long-armed chief, her lord and king, And to the wood myself betake Where hermit saints their dwelling make. For, sinner both in deed and thought! This hideous crime which thou hast wrought I cannot bear, or live to see The people's sad eyes bent on me. Begone, to Dandak wood retire, Or cast thy body to the fire, Or bind around thy neck the rope: No other refuge mayst thou hope. When Rama, lord of valour true, Has gained the earth, his right and due, Then, free from duty's binding debt, My vanished sin shall I forget."

How through the square he made his way To chambers where the women lay, Within the Asoka garden came And there found Rama's captive dame. His colloquy with her he sought, And giving of the ring he brought. How Sita gave a gem o'erjoyed; How Hanuman the grove destroyed. How giantesses trembling fled, And servant fiends were smitten dead. How Hanuman was seized; their ire When Lanka blazed with hostile fire. His leap across the sea once more; The eating of the honey store. How Rama he consoled, and how He showed the gem from Sita's brow. With Ocean, Rama's interview; The bridge that Nala o'er it threw. The crossing, and the sitting down At night round Lanka's royal town. The treaty with Vibhishan made: The plan for Ravan's slaughter laid. How Kumbhakarna in his pride And Meghanada fought and died. How Ravan in the fight was slain, And captive Sita brought again. Vibhishan set upon the throne; The flying chariot Pushpak shown. How Brahma and the Gods appeared, And Sita's doubted honour cleared. How in the flying car they rode To Bharadvaja's cabin abode. The Wind-God's son sent on afar; How Bharat met the flying car. How Rama then was king ordained; The legions their discharge obtained. How Rama cast his queen away; How grew the people's love each day. Thus did the saint Valmiki tell Whate'er in Rama's life befell, And in the closing verses all That yet to come will once befall.

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

Soon as the warriors took their rest Obeying Bharat's high behest, Thus Bharat to Satrughna spake: "A band of soldiers with thee take, And with these hunters o'er and o'er The thickets of the wood explore. With bow, sword, arrows in their hands Let Guha with his kindred bands Within this grove remaining trace The children of Kakutstha's race. And I meanwhile on foot will through This neighbouring wood my way pursue, With elders and the twice-born men, And every lord and citizen. There is, I feel, no rest for me Till Rama's face again I see, Lakshman, in arms and glory great, And Sita born to happy fate: No rest, until his cheek as bright As the fair moon rejoice my sight, No rest until I see the eye With which the lotus petals vie; Till on my head those dear feet rest With signs of royal rank impressed; None, till my kingly brother gain His old hereditary reign, Till o'er his limbs and noble head The consecrating drops be shed. How blest is Janak's daughter, true To every wifely duty, who Cleaves faithful to her husband's side Whose realm is girt by Ocean's tide! This mountain too above the rest E'en as the King of Hills is blest,-- Whose shades Kakutstha's scion hold As Nandan charms the Lord of Gold. Yea, happy is this tangled grove Where savage beasts unnumbered rove, Where, glory of the Warrior race, King Rama finds a dwelling-place."

A while they sat, each lip compressed, Then Bharat thus his chief addressed: "My mother here was made content; To me was given the government. This now, my lord, I yield to thee: Enjoy it, from all trouble free. Like a great bridge the floods have rent, Impetuous in their wild descent, All other hands but thine in vain Would strive the burthen to maintain. In vain the ass with steeds would vie, With Tarkshya,(381) birds that wing the sky; So, lord of men, my power is slight To rival thine imperial might. Great joys his happy days attend On whom the hopes of men depend, But wretched is the life he leads Who still the aid of others needs. And if the seed a man has sown, With care and kindly nurture grown, Rear its huge trunk and spring in time Too bulky for a dwarf to climb, Yet, with perpetual blossom gay, No fruit upon its boughs display, Ne'er can that tree, thus nursed in vain, Approval of the virtuous gain. The simile is meant to be Applied, O mighty-armed, to thee, Because, our lord and leader, thou Protectest not thy people now. O, be the longing wish fulfilled Of every chief of house and guild, To see again their sun-bright lord Victorious to his realm restored! As thou returnest through the crowd Let roars of elephants be loud. And each fair woman lift her voice And in her new-found king rejoice."

She heard the prince his wish declare: Then rose she, and the royal pair Of brothers through the wood she led That round her holy dwelling spread. "Behold Matanga's wood" she cried, "A grove made famous far and wide. Dark as thick clouds and filled with herds Of wandering deer, and joyous birds. In this pure spot each reverend sire With offerings fed the holy fire. See here the western altar stands Where daily with their trembling hands The aged saints, so long obeyed By me, their gifts of blossoms laid. The holy power, O Raghu's son, By their ascetic virtue won, Still keeps their well-loved altar bright, Filling the air with beams of light. And those seven neighbouring lakes behold Which, when the saints infirm and old, Worn out by fasts, no longer sought, Moved hither drawn by power of thought. Look, Rama, where the devotees Hung their bark mantles on the trees, Fresh from the bath: those garments wet Through many a day are dripping yet. See, through those aged hermits' power The tender spray, this bright-hued flower With which the saints their worship paid, Fresh to this hour nor change nor fade. Here thou hast seen each lawn and dell, And heard the tale I had to tell: Permit thy servant, lord, I pray, To cast this mortal shell away, For I would dwell, this life resigned, With those great saints of lofty mind, Whom I within this holy shade With reverential care obeyed."

"By changeless law our bliss and woe From ancient worth and folly flow. What fruits soe'er we cull, the seeds Were scattered by our former deeds.(602) Why mourn another's mournful fate, And weep, thyself unfortunate? Be calm, O thou whose heart is wise, For none deserves another's sighs. Look up, with idle sorrow strive: Thy child, his heir, is yet alive. Let needful rites be duly done, Nor in thy woe forget thy son. Regard the law which all obey: They spring to life, they pass away. Begin the task that bids thee rise, And stay these tears, for thou art wise. Our lord the king is doomed to die, On whom ten million hearts rely. Kind, liberal, patient, true, and just Was he in whom they place their trust, And now he seeks the land of those Who for the right subdue their foes. Each Vanar lord with all his train, Each ranger of this wild domain, And Angad here, thy darling, see A governor and friend in thee. These twain(603) whose hearts with sorrow ache The funeral rites shall undertake, And Angad by his mother's care Be king, his father's rightful heir. Now let him pay, as laws require, His sacred duty to his sire, Nor one solemnity omit Of all that mighty kings befit. And when thy fond eye sees thine own Dear Angad on his father's throne, Then, lightened of its load of pain, Thy spirit will have rest again."

Then in sweet accents low and mild The Vanar spoke to Janak's child: "A noble king, by sin unstained, The mighty Dasaratha reigned. Lord of the warrior's car and steed, The pride of old Ikshvaku's seed. A faithful friend, a blameless king, Protector of each living thing. A glorious monarch, strong to save, Blest with the bliss he freely gave. His son, the best of all who know The science of the bended bow, Was moon-bright Rama, brave and strong, Who loved the right and loathed the wrong, Who ne'er from kingly duty swerved, Loved by the lands his might preserved. His feet the path of law pursued; His arm rebellious foes subdued. His sire's command the prince obeyed And, banished, sought the forest shade, Where with his wife and brother he Wandered a saintly devotee. There as he roamed the wilds he slew The bravest of the Rakshas crew. The giant king the prince beguiled, And stole his consort, Janak's child. Then Rama roamed the country round, And a firm friend, Sugriva, found, Lord of the Vanar race, expelled From his own realm which Bali held, He conquered Bali and restored The kingdom to the rightful lord. Then by Sugriva's high decree The Vanar legions searched for thee, Sampati's counsel bade me leap A hundred leagues across the deep. And now my happy eyes have seen At last the long-sought Maithil queen. Such was the form, the eye, the grace Of her whom Rama bade me trace."

The giant lord the chariot viewed, And humbly thus his speech renewed: "Behold, O King, the car prepared: Now be thy further will declared." He ceased: and Rama spake once more: "These hosts who thronged to Lanka's shore Their faith and might have nobly shown, And set thee on the giants' throne. Let pearls and gems and gold repay The feats of many a desperate day, That all may go triumphant hence Proud of their noble recompense." Vibhishan, ready at his call, With gold and gems enriched them all. Then Rama clomb the glorious car That shone like day's resplendent star. There in his lap he held his dame Vailing her eyes in modest shame. Beside him Lakshman took his stand, Whose mighty bow still armed his hand, "O King Vibhishan," Rama cried, "O Vanar chiefs, so long allied, My comrades till the foemen fell, List, for I speak a long farewell. The task, in doubt and fear begun, With your good aid is nobly done. Leave Lanka's shore, your steps retrace, Brave warriors of the Vanar race. Thou, King Sugriva, true, through all, To friendship's bond and duty's call, Seek far Kishkindha with thy train And o'er thy realm in glory reign. Farewell, Vibhishan, Lanka's throne Won by our arms is now thine own, Thou, mighty lord, hast nought to dread From heavenly Gods by Indra led. My last farewell, 0 King, receive, For Lanka's isle this hour I leave."

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

But when Kausalyasaw that he Resolved to keep his sire's decree, While tears and sobs her utterance broke, Her very righteous speech she spoke: "Can he, a stranger yet to pain, Whose pleasant words all hearts enchain, Son of the king and me the queen, Live on the grain his hands may glean; Can he, whose slaves and menials eat The finest cakes of sifted wheat-- Can Rama in the forest live On roots and fruit which woodlands give; Who will believe, who will not fear When the sad story smites his ear, That one so dear, so noble held, Is by the king his sire expelled? Now surely none may Fate resist, Which orders all as it may list, If, Rama, in thy strength and grace, The woods become thy dwelling-place. A childless mother long I grieved, And many a sigh for offspring heaved, With wistful longing weak and worn Till thou at last, my son, wast born. Fanned by the storm of that desire Deep in my soul I felt the fire, Whose offerings flowed from weeping eyes, With fuel fed of groans and sighs, While round the flame the smoke grew hot Of tears because thou camest not. Now reft of thee, too fiery fierce The flame of woe my heart will pierce, As, when the days of spring return, The sun's hot beams the forest burn. The mother cow still follows near The wanderings of her youngling dear. So close to thine my feet shall be, Where'er thou goest following thee."

As thus the prince whose heart was bent On virtue told his firm intent, The good Sutikshna's joy rose high, And thus in turn he made reply: "The very thing, O Prince, which thou Hast sought, I wished to urge but now, Bid thee with wife and brother see Agastya, glorious devotee. I count this thing an omen fair That thou shouldst thus thy wish declare, And I, my Prince, will gladly teach The way Agastya's home to reach. Southward, dear son, direct thy feet Eight leagues beyond this still retreat: Agastya's hermit brother there Dwells in a home most bright and fair. 'Tis on a knoll of woody ground, With many a branching Pippal(426) crowned: There sweet birds' voices ne'er are mute, And trees are gay with flower and fruit. There many a lake gleams bright and cool, And lilies deck each pleasant pool, While swan, and crane, and mallard's wings Are lovely in the water-springs. There for one night, O Rama, stay, And with the dawn pursue thy way. Still farther, bending southward, by The thicket's edge the course must lie, And thou wilt see, two leagues from thence Agastya's lovely residence, Set in the woodland's fairest spot, All varied foliage decks the cot: There Sita, Lakshman thou, at ease May spend sweet hours neath shady trees, For all of noblest growth are found Luxuriant on that bosky ground. If it be still thy firm intent To see that saint preeminent, O mighty counsellor, this day Depart upon thine onward way."

"Beloved son, four leagues away Is Panchavati bright and gay: Thronged with its deer, most fair it looks With berries, fruit, and water-brooks. There build thee with thy brother's aid A cottage in the quiet shade, And faithful to thy sire's behest, Obedient to the sentence, rest. For well, O sinless chieftain, well I know thy tale, how all befell: Stern penance and the love I bore Thy royal sire supply the lore. To me long rites and fervid zeal The wish that stirs thy heart reveal, And hence my guest I bade thee be, That this pure grove might shelter thee. So now, thereafter, thus I speak: The shades of Panchavati seek; That tranquil spot is bright and fair, And Sita will be happy there. Not far remote from here it lies, A grove to charm thy loving eyes, Godavari's pure stream is nigh: There Sita's days will sweetly fly. Pure, lovely, rich in many a charm, O hero of the mighty arm, 'Tis gay with every plant and fruit, And throngs of gay buds never mute. Thou, true to virtue's path, hast might To screen each trusting anchorite, And wilt from thy new home defend The hermits who on thee depend. Now yonder, Prince, direct thine eyes Where dense Madhuka(442) woods arise: Pierce their dark shade, and issuing forth Turn to a fig-tree on the north: Then onward up a sloping mead Flanked by a hill the way will lead: There Panchavati, ever gay With ceaseless bloom, thy steps will stay."

Then, all his thoughts on Sita bent, The Vanar chieftain made lament: "The queen to Rama's soul endeared, By Lakshman's pious heart revered, Lies here,--for none may strive with Fate, A captive, sad and desolate. The brothers' might full well she knows, And bravely bears the storm of woes, As swelling Ganga in the rains The rush of every flood sustains. Her lord, for her, fierce Bali slew, Viradha's monstrous might o'erthrew, For her the fourteen thousand slain In Janasthan bedewed the plain. And if for her Ikshvaku's son Destroyed the world 'twere nobly done. This, this is she, so far renowned, Who sprang from out the furrowed ground,(823) Child of the high-souled king whose sway The men of Mithila obey: The glorious lady wooed and won By Dasaratha's noblest son; And now these sad eyes look on her Mid hostile fiends a prisoner. From home and every bliss she fled By wifely love and duty led, And heedless of a wanderer's woes, A life in lonely forests chose. This, this is she so fair of mould. Whose limbs are bright as burnished gold. Whose voice was ever soft and mild, Who sweetly spoke and sweetly smiled. O, what is Rama's misery! how He longs to see his darling now! Pining for one of her fond looks As one athirst for water brooks. Absorbed in woe the lady sees No Rakshas guard, no blooming trees. Her eyes are with her thoughts, and they Are fixed on Rama far away."

But other thoughts resumed their sway When Lanka's town in ruin lay; And, as his bosom felt their weight He stood a while to meditate. "What have I done?", he thought with shame, "Destroyed the town with hostile flame. O happy they whose firm control Checks the wild passion of the soul; Who on the fires of anger throw The cooling drops that check their glow. But woe is me, whom wrath could lead To do this senseless shameless deed. The town to fire and death I gave, Nor thought of her I came to save,-- Doomed by my own rash folly, doomed To perish in the flames consumed. If I, when anger drove me wild, Have caused the death of Janak's child, The kindled flame shall end my woe, Or the deep fires that burn below,(886) Or my forsaken corse shall be Food for the monsters of the sea. How can I meet Sugriva? how Before the royal brothers bow,-- I whose rash deed has madly foiled, The noble work in which we toiled? Or has her own bright virtue shed Its guardian influence round her head? She lives untouched,--the peerless dame; Flame has no fury for the flame.(887) The very fire would ne'er consent To harm a queen so excellent,-- The high-souled Rama's faithful wife, Protected by her holy life. She lives, she lives. Why should I fear For one whom Raghu's sons hold dear? Has not the pitying fire that spared The Vanar for the lady cared?"

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

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