Ramayana on The Divine

She spake; the lady's meek reply Swelled Anasuya's rapture high. "Sita," she said, "my gift to-day Thy sweet contentment shall repay. Accept this precious robe to wear, Of heavenly fabric, rich and rare, These gems thy limbs to ornament, This precious balsam sweet of scent. O Maithil dame, this gift of mine Shall make thy limbs with beauty shine, And breathing o'er thy frame dispense Its pure and lasting influence. This balsam on thy fair limbs spread New radiance on thy lord shall shed, As Lakshmi's beauty lends a grace To Vishnu's own celestial face."

With amorous look and soft address The fiend began his suit to press: "Why wouldst thou, lady lotus-eyed, From my fond glance those beauties hide? Mine eager suit no more repel: But love me, for I love thee well. Dismiss, sweet dame, dismiss thy fear; No giant and no man is near. Ours is the right by force to seize What dames soe'er our fancy please.(828) But I with rude hands will not touch A lady whom I love so much. Fear not, dear queen: no fear is nigh: Come, on thy lover's love rely, Some little sign of favor show, Nor lie enamoured of thy woe. Those limbs upon that cold earth laid, Those tresses twined in single braid,(829) The fast and woe that wear thy frame, Beseem not thee, O beauteous dame. For thee the fairest wreaths were meant, The sandal and the aloe's scent, Rich ornaments and pearls of price, And vesture meet for Paradise. With dainty cates shouldst thou be fed, And rest upon a sumptuous bed. And festive joys to thee belong, The music, and the dance and song. Rise, pearl of women, rise and deck With gems and chains thine arms and neck. Shall not the dame I love be seen In vesture worthy of a queen? Methinks when thy sweet form was made His hand the wise Creator stayed; For never more did he design A beauty meet to rival thine. Come, let us love while yet we may, For youth will fly and charms decay, Come cast thy grief and fear aside, And be my love, my chosen bride. The gems and jewels that my hand Has reft from every plundered land,-- To thee I give them all this day, And at thy feet my kingdom lay. The broad rich earth will I o'errun, And leave no town unconquered, none; Then of the whole an offering make To Janak,(830) dear, for thy sweet sake. In all the world no power I see Of God or man can strive with me. Of old the Gods and Asurs set In terrible array I met: Their scattered hosts to earth I beat, And trod their flags beneath my feet. Come, taste of bliss and drink thy fill, And rule the slave who serves thy will.

"Gandharvas, Gods, the hosts who dwell In heaven, in air, in earth, in hell, Have yielded to thy might, and how Shall two weak men oppose thee now? Hanuman came, a foe disguised, And mocked us heedless and surprised, Or never had he lived to flee And boast that he has fought with me. Command, O King, and this right hand Shall sweep the Vanars from the land, And hill and dale, to Ocean's shore, Shall know the death-doomed race no more. But let my care the means devise To guard thy city from surprise."

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

He heard, and with a troubled breast This answer to the queen addressed: "Ah me, dear lady, canst thou deem That words like these thy lips beseem? I, at the bidding of my sire, Would cast my body to the fire, A deadly draught of poison drink, Or in the waves of ocean sink: If he command, it shall be done,-- My father and my king in one. Then speak and let me know the thing So longed for by my lord the king. It shall be done: let this suffice; Rama ne'er makes a promise twice."

A while he lay: he rose at length, And slowly gathering sense and strength, With angry eyes which tears bedewed, The miserable queen he viewed, And spake with keen reproach to her Before each lord and minister: "No lust have I for kingly sway, My mother I no more obey: Naught of this consecration knew Which Dasaratha kept in view. I with Satrughna all the time Was dwelling in a distant clime: I knew of Rama's exile naught, That hero of the noble thought: I knew not how fair Sita went, And Lakshman, forth to banishment."

So Rama and Sumitra's son, When every honour due was done, Slept through the night. When morning broke, The heroes from their rest awoke. Betimes the son of Raghu rose, With gentle Sita, from repose, And sipped the cool delicious wave Sweet with the scent the lotus gave, Then to the Gods and sacred flame The heroes and the lady came, And bent their heads in honour meet Within the hermit's pure retreat. When every stain was purged away, They saw the rising Lord of Day: Then to Sutikshna's side they went, And softly spoke, most reverent:

"Stay, for the wondrous deer we see The fiend Maricha's self may be. Ere now have kings who sought this place To take their pastime in the chase, Met from his wicked art defeat, And fallen slain by like deceit. He wears, well trained in magic guile, The figure of a deer a while, Bright as the very sun, or place Where dwell the gay Gandharva race. No deer, O Rama, e'er was seen Thus decked with gold and jewels' sheen. 'Tis magic, for the world has ne'er, Lord of the world, shown aught so fair."

Yupaksha answered: "Chieftain, hear; No God or fiend excites our fear. But men in arms our walls assail: We tremble lest their might prevail. For vengeful Rama vows to slay The foe who stole his queen away, And, matchless for his warlike deeds, A host of mighty Vanars leads. Ere now a monstrous Vanar came, Laid Lanka waste with ruthless flame, And Aksha, Ravan's offspring, slew With all his warrior retinue. Our king who never trembled yet For heavenly hosts in battle met, At length the general dread has shared, O'erthrown by Rama's arm and spared."

Restored from Yama's dark domain The Vanar legions filled the plain, And, round the royal chief arrayed, With wondering hearts obeisance paid. Each God the son of Raghu praised, And cried as loud his voice he raised: "Turn, King, to fair Ayodhya speed, And leave thy friends of Vanar breed. Thy true devoted consort cheer After long days of woe and fear. Bharat, thy loyal brother, see, A hermit now for love of thee. The tears of Queen Kausalya dry, And light with joy each stepdame's eye; Then consecrated king of men Make glad each faithful citizen."

The words the warder maiden said He heard with soul disquieted, And thus as fiercer grief assailed, His troubled senses wellnigh failed. Consumed by torturing fires of grief The king, the world's imperial chief, His lady lying on the ground In most unqueenly posture, found. The aged king, all pure within, Saw the young queen resolved on sin, Low on the ground, his own sweet wife, To him far dearer than his life, Like some fair creeping plant uptorn, Or like a maid of heaven forlorn, A nymph of air or Goddess sent From Swarga down in banishment.

Thus with his words he undeceived Kausalya's troubled heart, who grieved For son and husband reft away; Then prostrate on the ground he lay. Him as he lay half-senseless there, Freed by the mighty oaths he sware, Kausalya, by her woe distressed, With melancholy words addressed: "Anew, my son, this sorrow springs To rend my heart with keener stings: These awful oaths which thou hast sworn My breast with double grief have torn. Thy soul, and faithful Lakshman's too, Are still, thank Heaven! to virtue true. True to thy promise, thou shalt gain The mansions which the good obtain."

Her locks in hermit fashion tied, Clad in bark coat and black deer-hide, When Rama gave consent, the dame Resigned her body to the flame. Then like the fire that burns and glows, To heaven the sainted lady rose, In all her heavenly garments dressed, Immortal wreaths on neck and breast, Bright with celestial gems she shone Most beautiful to look upon, And like the flame of lightning sent A glory through the firmament. That holy sphere the dame attained, By depth of contemplation gained, Where roam high saints with spirits pure In bliss that shall for aye endure.

The tyrant's troubled eye confessed The secret fear that filled his breast. With dread of coming woe dismayed He called his counsellors to aid; Then sternly silent, deep in thought, His chamber in the palace sought. Then, as the surest hope of all, The monarch bade his servants call Vidyujjihva, whom magic skill Made master of the means of ill. Then spake the lord of Lanka's isle: "Come, Sita with thine arts beguile. With magic skill and deftest care A head like Rama's own prepare. This head, long shafts and mighty bow, To Janak's daughter will we show."

Then Sita took the gift the dame Bestowed on her in friendship's name, The balsam, gems, and robe divine, And garlands wreathed of bloomy twine; Then sat her down, with reverence meet, At saintly Anasuya's feet. The matron rich in rites and vows Turned her to Rama's Maithil spouse, And questioned thus in turn to hear A pleasant tale to charm her ear: "Sita, 'tis said that Raghu's son Thy hand, mid gathered suitors, won. I fain would hear thee, lady, tell The story as it all befell: Do thou repeat each thing that passed, Reviewing all from first to last."

Here birds and lords of serpent race, Spirits and Gods who haunt the place, Content with scanty fare remain, As merit's meed they strive to gain. Made perfect here, the saints supreme, On cars that mock the Day-God's gleam,-- Their mortal bodies cast aside,-- Sought heaven transformed and glorified, Here Gods to living things, who win Their favour, pure from cruel sin, Give royal rule and many a good, Immortal life and spirithood. Now, Lakshman, we are near the place: Do thou precede a little space, And tell the mighty saint that I With Sita at my side am nigh."

She spoke, and with a glance of flame Rushed on the fawn-eyed Maithil dame: So would a horrid meteor mar Fair Rohini's soft beaming star. But as the furious fiend drew near, Like Death's dire noose which chills with fear, The mighty chief her purpose stayed, And spoke, his brother to upbraid: "Ne'er should we jest with creatures rude, Of savage race and wrathful mood. Think, Lakshman, think how nearly slain My dear Videhan breathes again. Let not the hideous wretch escape Without a mark to mar her shape. Strike, lord of men, the monstrous fiend, Deformed, and foul, and evil-miened."

"Say to what quarter of the sky The cruel fiend was seen to fly, Bearing afar my captured wife, My darling dearer than my life. Speak, Vanar King, that I may know Where dwells the cause of all my woe; The fiend for whose transgression all The giants by this hand shall fall. He who the Maithil lady stole And kindled fury in my soul, Has sought his fate in senseless pride And opened Death's dark portal wide. Then tell me, Vanar lord, I pray, The dwelling of my foe, And he, beneath this hand, to-day To Yama's halls shall go."

Supported on his golden throne, With failing eye and humbled tone, "Giants," he cried, "the toil is vain, Fruitless the penance and the pain, If I whom Indra owned his peer, Secure from Gods, a mortal fear. My soul remembers, now too late, Lord Brahma's words who spoke my fate: "Tremble, proud Giant," thus they ran, "And dread thy death from slighted man. Secure from Gods and demons live, And serpents, by the boon I give. Against their power thy life is charmed, But against man is still unarmed." This Rama is the man foretold By Anaranya's(965) lips of old:

O'erwhelmed with rapture Bharat heard The tale that all his being stirred, And, heralding the glad event, This order to Satrughna sent: "Let every shrine with flowers be gay Let incense burn and music play. Go forth, go forth to meet your king, Let tabours sound and minstrels sing, Let bards swell high the note of praise Skilled in the lore of ancient days, Call forth the royal matrons: call Each noble from the council hall. Send all we love and honour most, Send Brahmans and the warrior host, A glorious company to bring In triumph home our lord the king."

The Gods replied: "We fear, O Lord, Fierce Ravan, ravener abhorred. Be thine the glorious task, we pray, In human form this fiend to slay. By thee of all the Blest alone This sinner may be overthrown. He gained by penance long and dire The favour of the mighty Sire. Then He who every gift bestows Guarded the fiend from heavenly foes, And gave a pledge his life that kept From all things living, man except. On him thus armed no other foe Than man may deal the deadly blow. Assume, O King, a mortal birth, And strike the demon to the earth."

Thy guilty hands this day have done A deed which all reprove and shun, Unworthly of a noble chief, The pillage loved by coward thief. Stay, if thy heart allow thee, stay And meet me in the deadly fray. Soon shall thou stain the earth with gore, And fall as Khara fell before. The fruits of former deeds o'erpower The sinner in his dying hour: And such a fate on thee, O King, Thy tyranny and madness bring. Not e'en the Self-existent Lord, Who reigns by all the worlds adored, Would dare attempt a guilty deed Which the dire fruits of crime succeed."

"Seest, thou," Vibhishan answered, "one Whose face is as the morning sun, Preeminent for hugest frame? Akampan(962) is the giant's name. Behold that chieftain, chariot-borne, Whom Brahma's chosen gifts adorn. He wields a bow like Indra's own; A lion on his flag is shown, His eyes with baleful fire are lit: 'Tis Ravan's son, 'tis Indrajit. There, brandishing in mighty hands His huge bow, Atikaya stands. And that proud warrior o'er whose head A moon-bright canopy is spread: Whose might, in many a battle tried, Has tamed imperial Indra's pride; Who wears a crown of burnished gold, Is Lanka's lord the lofty-souled."

They heard his speech with ready ear And, every bosom filled with fear Of Visvamitra, wise and great, Spoke each to each in brief debate: "The breast of Kusik's son, we know, With furious wrath is quick to glow. Whate'er the words he wills to say, We must, be very sure, obey. Fierce is our lord as fire, and straight May curse us all infuriate. So let us in these rites engage, As ordered by the holy sage. And with our best endeavour strive That King Ikshvaku's son, alive, In body to the skies may go By his great might who wills it so."

The king who filled Ayodhya's throne, By Ambarisha's name far known, At that same time, it chanced, began A sacrificial rite to plan. But Indra took by force away The charger that the king would slay. The victim lost, the Brahman sped To Ambarisha's side, and said: "Gone is the steed, O King, and this Is due to thee, in care remiss. Such heedless faults will kings destroy Who fail to guard what they enjoy. The flaw is desperate: we need The charger, or a man to bleed. Quick! bring a man if not the horse, That so the rite may have its course."

Then to the monarch's speech replied The hermit, penance-glorified: "For countless kine, for hills of gold, Mine eldest son shall ne'er be sold." But, when she heard the saint's reply, The children's mother, standing nigh, Words such as these in answer said To Ambarisha, monarch dread: "My lord, the saint, has spoken well: His eldest child he will not sell. And know, great Monarch, that above The rest my youngest born I love. 'Tis ever thus: the father's joy Is centred in his eldest boy. The mother loves her darling best Whom last she rocked upon her breast: My youngest I will ne'er forsake."

Thus Bharat strove to bend his will With suppliant head, but he, Earth's lord, inexorable still Would keep his sire's decree. The firmness of the noble chief The wondering people moved, And rapture mingling with their grief, All wept and all approved. "How firm his steadfast will," they cried, "Who Keeps his promise thus! Ah, to Ayodhya's town," they sighed, "He comes not back with us." The holy priest, the swains who tilled The earth, the sons of trade, And e'en the mournful queens were filled With joy as Bharat prayed, And bent their heads, then weeping stilled A while, his prayer to aid.

"Dismiss, dismiss thine idle fear, Nor dread the power of Bali here. For this is Malaya's glorious hill(539) Where Bali's might can work no ill. I look around but nowhere see The hated foe who made thee flee, Fell Bali, fierce in form and face: Then fear not, lord of Vanar race. Alas, in thee I clearly find The weakness of the Vanar kind, That loves from thought to thought to range, Fix no belief and welcome change. Mark well each hint and sign and scan, Discreet and wise, thine every plan. How may a king, with sense denied, The subjects of his sceptre guide?"

Then joy, too mighty for control, Rushed in full flood o'er Bharat's soul; His reeling sense and strength gave way, And fainting on the earth he lay, At length upspringing from the ground, His arms about Hanuman wound, With tender tears of rapture sprung, He dewed the neck to which he clung: "Art thou a God or man," he cried, "Whom love and pity hither guide? For this a hundred thousand kine, A hundred villages be thine. A score of maids of spotless lives To thee I give to be thy wives, Of golden hue and bright of face, Each lovely for her tender grace."

With choking sobs, with many a tear, Pierced to the heart with grief sincere, The best of conquerors poured his sighs, And with his robe veiled face and eyes. Kaikeyi saw him fallen there, Godlike, afflicted, in despair, Used every art to move him thence, And tried him thus with eloquence: "Arise, arise, my dearest; why Wilt thou, famed Prince, so lowly lie? Not by such grief as this are moved Good men like thee, by all approved. The earth thy father nobly swayed, And rites to Heaven he duly paid. At length his race of life was run: Thou shouldst not mourn for him, my son."

Thus urged, Satrughna answered: "I, Remembering Rama, sleepless lie." As thus the brothers, each to each, The lion-mettled, ended speech, Came Guha, the Nishadas' king, And spoke with kindly questioning: "Hast thou in comfort passed," he cried, "The night upon the river side? With thee how fares it? and are these, Thy soldiers, healthy and at ease?" Thus the Nishadas' lord inquired In gentle words which love inspired, And Bharat, Rama's faithful slave, Thus to the king his answer gave: "The night has sweetly passed, and we Are highly honoured, King, by thee. Now let thy servants boats prepare, Our army o'er the stream to bear."

He spoke. Sugriva raised a cry That shook and rent the echoing sky, A shout so fierce and loud and dread That stately bulls in terror fled, Like dames who fly from threatened stain In some ignoble monarch's reign. The deer in wild confusion ran Like horses turned in battle's van. Down fell the birds, like Gods who fall When merits fail,(578) at that dread call. So fiercely, boldened for the fray, The offspring of the Lord of Day Sent forth his furious shout as loud As thunder from a labouring cloud, Or, where the gale blows fresh and free, The roaring of the troubled sea.

The Three-and-thirty,(187) freed from fear, Sought their bright homes with hopeful cheer. Still rose the great tempestuous sound As Sagar's children pierced the ground. When thus the whole broad earth was cleft, And not a spot unsearched was left, Back to their home the princes sped, And thus unto their father said: "We searched the earth from side to side, While countless hosts of creatures died. Our conquering feet in triumph trod On snake and demon, fiend and God; But yet we failed, with all our toil, To find the robber and the spoil. What can we more? If more we can, Devise, O King, and tell thy plan."

Again Maricha made reply, Consent and will to signify. With rapid speed the giants two From the calm hermit dwelling flew, Borne in that wondrous chariot, meet For some great God's celestial seat. They from their airy path looked down On many a wood and many a town, On lake and river, brook and rill, City and realm and towering hill. Soon he whom giant hosts obeyed, Maricha by his side, surveyed The dark expanse of Dandak wood Where Rama's hermit cottage stood. They left the flying car, whereon The wealth of gold and jewels shone, And thus the giant king addressed Maricha as his hand he pressed:

Then round the helpless Sita drew With fiery eyes the hideous crew, And thus assailed her, all and each, With insult, taunt, and threatening speech: "What! can it be thou prizest not This happy chance, this glorious lot, To be the chosen wife of one So strong and great, Pulastya's son? Pulastya--thus have sages told-- Is mid the Lords of Life(838) enrolled. Lord Brahma's mind-born son was he, Fourth of that glorious company. Visravas from Pulastya sprang,-- Through all the worlds his glory rang. And of Visravas, large-eyed dame! Our king the mighty Ravan came. His happy consort thou mayst be: Scorn not the words we say to thee."

"Just King, here stands my mother dear, Kausalya, one whom all revere. Submissive, gentle, old is she, And keeps her lips from blame of thee, For her, kind lord, of me bereft A sea of whelming woe is left. O, show her in her new distress Still fonder love and tenderness. Well honoured by thine honoured hand Her grief for me let her withstand, Who wrapt in constant thought of me In me would live a devotee. Peer of Mahendra, O, to her be kind, And treat I pray, my gentle mother so, That, when I dwell afar, her life resigned, She may not pass to Yama's realm for woe."

"This Lord of boons has sought me here To waft me hence to Brahma's sphere, Won by my penance long and stern,-- A home the lawless ne'er can earn. But when I knew that thou wast nigh, To Brahma's world I could not fly Until these longing eyes were blest With seeing thee, mine honoured guest. Since thou, O Prince, hast cheered my sight, Great-hearted lover of the right, To heavenly spheres will I repair And bliss supreme that waits me there. For I have won, dear Prince, my way To those fair worlds which ne'er decay, Celestial seat of Brahma's reign: Be thine, with me, those worlds to gain."

High on the royal car, that glowed With glory from his face, he rode; And tambour shell and drum pealed out, And joyful was each giant's shout. A mighty host, with eyeballs red Like flames of kindled fire, he led. He passed the city gate, and viewed, Arrayed, the Vanar multitude, Those wielding massy rocks, and these Armed with the stems of uptorn trees, And Rama with his eyes aglow With warlike ardour viewed the foe, And thus the brave Vibhishan, best Of weapon-wielding chiefs, addressed: "What captain leads this bright array Where lances gleam and banners play, And thousands armed with spear and sword Await the bidding of their lord?"

Thus Rama spake. Vibhishan eyed The giants' chief, and thus replied: "This Rama, this is Ravan's son: High fame his youthful might has won. He, best of warriors, bows his ear The wisdom of the wise to hear. Supreme is he mid those who know The mastery of sword and bow. Unrivalled in the bold attack On elephant's or courser's back, He knows, beside, each subtler art, To win the foe, to bribe, or part. On him the giant hosts rely, And fear no ill when he is nigh. This peerless chieftain bears the name Of Atikaya huge of frame, Whom Dhanyamalini of yore To Ravan lord of Lanka bore."

The groans and cries of dames who wailed The ears of Lanka's lord assailed, For from each house and home was sent The voice of weeping and lament. In troubled thought his head he bowed, Then fiercely loosing on the crowd Of nobles near his throne he broke The silence, and in fury spoke: "This day my deadly shafts shall fly, And Raghu's sons shall surely die. This day shall countless Vanars bleed And dogs and kites and vultures feed. Go, bid them swift my car prepare, Bring the great bow I long to bear: And let my host with sword and shield And spear be ready for the field."

While in each house the women, pained At loss of Rama, still complained, Sank to his rest the Lord of Day, And night through all the sky held sway. The fires of worship all were cold, No text was hummed, no tale was told, And shades of midnight gloom came down Enveloping the mournful town. Still, sick at heart, the women shed, As for a son or husband fled, For Rama tears, disquieted: No child was loved as he. And all Ayodhya, where the feast, Music, and song, and dance had ceased, And merriment and glee, Where every merchant's store was closed That erst its glittering wares exposed, Was like a dried up sea.

Now, Bharat, lord of men be thou, And o'er Ayodhya reign: The silvan world to me shall bow, King of the wild domain. Yea, let thy joyful steps be bent To that fair town to-day, And I as happy and content, To Dandak wood will stray. The white umbrella o'er thy brow Its cooling shade shall throw: I to the shadow of the bough And leafy trees will go. Satrughna, for wise plans renowned, Shall still on thee attend; And Lakshman, ever faithful found, Be my familiar friend. Let us his sons, O brother dear, The path of right pursue, And keep the king we all revere Still to his promise true."

Then spoke again the great recluse: "This mighty bow, O King, produce." King Janak, at the saint's request, This order to his train addressed: "Let the great bow be hither borne, Which flowery wreaths and scents adorn." Soon as the monarch's words were said, His servants to the city sped, Five thousand youths in number, all Of manly strength and stature tall, The ponderous eight-wheeled chest that held The heavenly bow, with toil propelled. At length they brought that iron chest, And thus the godlike king addressed: "This best of bows, O lord, we bring, Respected by each chief and king, And place it for these youths to see, If, Sovereign, such thy pleasure be."

I feared to draw the arrow out, And pondered thus in painful doubt: "Now tortured by the shaft he lies, But if I draw it forth he dies." Helpless I stood, faint, sorely grieved: The hermit's son my thought perceived; As one o'ercome by direst pain He scarce had strength to speak again. With writhing limb and struggling breath, Nearer and ever nearer death "My senses undisturbed remain, And fortitude has conquered pain: Now from one tear thy soul be freed. Thy hand has made a Brahman bleed. Let not this pang thy bosom wring: No twice-born youth am I, O King, For of a Vaisya sire I came, Who wedded with a Sudra dame."

This curse on me the hermit laid, Nor yet his tears and groans were stayed. Then on the pyre their bodies cast The pair; and straight to heaven they passed. As in sad thought I pondered long Back to my memory came the wrong Done in wild youth, O lady dear, When 'twas my boast to shoot by ear. The deed has borne the fruit, which now Hangs ripe upon the bending bough: Thus dainty meats the palate please, And lure the weak to swift disease. Now on my soul return with dread The words that noble hermit said, That I for a dear son should grieve, And of the woe my life should leave."

Roused by his bow-string's awful clang, To meet their foes the Vanars sprang. Armed with tall trees from Lanka's wood, And rocks and mountain peaks, they stood. The giant's arrows, gold-bedecked, The storm of hurtling missiles checked; And ever on his foemen poured Fierce tempest from his clanging cord; Nor could the Vanar chiefs sustain His shafts' intolerable rain. They fled: the victor gained the place Where stood the lord of Raghu's race, And cried with voice of thunder: "Lo, Borne on my car, with shaft and bow, I, champion of the giants, scorn To fight with weaklings humbly born. Come forth your bravest, if he dare, And fight with one who will not spare."

Then, reverent hand to hand applied, Thus Bharat to his brother cried: "Thy realm, O King, is now restored, Uninjured to the rightful lord. This feeble arm with toil and pain, The weighty charge could scarce sustain. And the great burthen wellnigh broke The neck untrained to bear the yoke. The royal swan outspeeds the crow: The steed is swift, the mule is slow, Nor can my feeble feet be led O'er the rough ways where thine should tread. Now grant what all thy subjects ask: Begin, O King, thy royal task. Now let our longing eyes behold The glorious rite ordained of old, And on the new-found monarch's head Let consecrating drops be shed."

"Lord of the mighty arm, of yore A shape transcending thought I wore, And through the triple world's extent My fame for might and valour went. Scarce might the sun and moon on high, Scarce Sakra, with my beauty vie. Then for a time this form I took, And the great world with trembling shook. The saints in forest shades who dwelt The terror of my presence felt. But once I stirred to furious rage Great Sthulasiras, glorious sage. Culling in woods his hermit food My hideous shape with fear he viewed. Then forth his words of anger burst That bade me live a thing accursed: "Thou, whose delight is others' pain, This grisly form shalt still retain."

He marked her rapture-beaming hue, And nearer to the lady drew, But at each onward step he took Suspicious fear her spirit shook. "Alas, Alas," she cried in fear. "False is the tale I joyed to hear. 'Tis Ravan, 'tis the fiend, who tries To mock me with a new disguise. If thou, to wring my woman's heart, Hast changed thy shape by magic art, And wouldst a helpless dame beguile, The wicked deed is doubly vile. But no: that fiend thou canst not be: Such joy I had from seeing thee. But if my fancy does not err, And thou art Rama's messenger, The glories of my lord repeat: For to these ears such words are sweet."

Still was the cry, "The Vanar foes Around the leaguered city close." King Ravan from the terrace gazed And saw, with eyes where fury blazed, The Vanar host in serried ranks Press to the moat and line the banks, And, first in splendour and in place, The lion lord of Raghu's race. And Rama looked on Lanka where Gay flags were streaming to the air, And, while keen sorrow pierced him through, His loving thoughts to Sita flew: "There, there in deep affliction lies My darling with the fawn-like eyes. There on the cold bare ground she keeps Sad vigil and for Rama weeps." Mad with the thought, "Charge, charge," he cried. "Let earth with Rakshas blood be dyed."

Now Dasaratha's pious mind Meet wedlock for his sons designed; With priests and friends the king began To counsel and prepare his plan. Such thoughts engaged his bosom, when, To see Ayodhya's lord of men, A mighty saint of glorious fame, The hermit Visvamitra(138) came. For evil fiends that roam by night Disturbed him in each holy rite, And in their strength and frantic rage Assailed with witcheries the sage. He came to seek the monarch's aid To guard the rites the demons stayed, Unable to a close to bring One unpolluted offering. Seeking the king in this dire strait He said to those who kept the gate: "Haste, warders, to your master run, And say that here stands Gadhi's son."

Distracted with the toil and thirst, With woeful mien, away he burst, Swift to the hermit's breast he flew, And weeping thus began to sue: "No sire have I, no mother dear, No kith or kin my heart to cheer: As justice bids, O Hermit, deign To save me from the threatened pain. O thou to whom the wretched flee, And find a saviour, Saint, in thee, Now let the king obtain his will, And me my length of days fulfil, That rites austere I too may share, May rise to heaven and rest me there. With tender soul and gentle brow Be guardian of the orphan thou, And as a father pities, so Preserve me from my fear and woe."

King Dasaratha heard with dread The boastful speech, and thus he said; Raising his hands in suppliant guise, With pallid cheek and timid eyes: "Forgetful of the bloody feud Ascetic toils hast thou pursued; Then, Brahman, let thy children be Untroubled and from danger free. Sprung of the race of Bhrigu, who Read holy lore, to vows most true, Thou swarest to the Thousand-eyed And thy fierce axe was cast aside. Thou turnedst to thy rites away Leaving the earth to Kasyap's sway, And wentest far a grove to seek Beneath Mahendra's(255) mountain peak. Now, mighty Hermit, art thou here To slay us all with doom severe? For if alone my Rama fall, We share his fate and perish all."

It chanced a slave-born handmaid, bred With Queen Kaikeyi, fancy-led, Mounted the stair and stood upon The terrace like the moon that shone. Thence Manthara at ease surveyed Ayodhya to her eyes displayed, Where water cooled the royal street, Where heaps of flowers were fresh and sweet, And costly flags and pennons hung On roof and tower their shadow flung; With covered ways prepared in haste, And many an awning newly placed; With sandal-scented streams bedewed, Thronged by a new bathed multitude: Whose streets were full of Brahman bands With wreaths and sweetmeats in their hands. Loud instruments their music raised, And through the town, where'er she gazed, The doors of temples glittered white, And the maid marvelled at the sight.

King Guha heard his speech, agreed, And called his minister with speed: "A boat," he cried, "swift, strong, and fair, With rudder, oars, and men, prepare, And place it ready by the shore To bear the pilgrims quickly o'er." Thus Guha spake: his followers all Bestirred them at their master's call; Then told the king that ready manned A gay boat waited near the strand. Then Guha, hand to hand applied, With reverence thus to Rama cried: "The boat is ready by the shore: How, tell me, can I aid thee more? O lord of men, it waits for thee To cross the flood that seeks the sea. O godlike keeper of thy vow, Embark: the boat is ready now."

Loving his friends with heart and soul, The joyful prince received the whole, Due honour to the envoys paid, And thus in turn his answer made: "Of Dasaratha tidings tell: Is the old king my father well? Is Rama, and is Lakshman, he Of the high-soul, from sickness free? And she who walks where duty leads, Kausalya, known for gracious deeds, Mother of Rama, loving spouse, Bound to her lord by well kept vows? And Lakshman's mother too, the dame Sumitra skilled in duty's claim, Who brave Satrughna also bare, Second in age,--her health declare. And she, in self-conceit most sage, With selfish heart most prone to rage, My mother, fares she well? has she Sent message or command to me?"

With sobbing voice and tearful eye Thus Bharat sadly made reply: "Ah lost am I, if thou, O Saint, Canst thus in thought my heart attaint: No warning charge from thee I need; Ne'er could such crime from me proceed. The words my guilty mother spake When fondly jealous for my sake-- Think not that I, to triumph moved, Those words approve or e'er approved. O Hermit, I have sought this place To win the lordly hero's grace, To throw me at my brother's feet And lead him to his royal seat. To this, my journey's aim and end, Thou shouldst, O Saint, thy favour lend: Where is the lord of earth? do thou, Most holy, say, where roams he now?"

She stooped, her hands with flowers to fill, But gazed upon the marvel still: Gazed on its back and sparkling side Where silver hues with golden vied. Joyous was she of faultless mould, With glossy skin like polished gold. And loudly to her husband cried And bow-armed Lakshman by his side: Again, again she called in glee: "O come this glorious creature see; Quick, quick, my lord, this deer to view. And bring thy brother Lakshman too." As through the wood her clear tones rang, Swift to her side the brothers sprang. With eager eyes the grove they scanned, And saw the deer before them stand. But doubt was strong in Lakshman's breast, Who thus his thought and fear expressed:

"O Prince, the Self-existent gave This boon to Ravan; he may brave All foes in fight; no fiend or snake, Gandharva, God, his life may take. His brother Kumbhakarna vies In might with him who rules the skies. The captain of his armies--fame Perhaps has taught the warrior's name-- Is terrible Prahasta, who King Manibhadra's(930) self o'erthrew. Where is the warrior found to face Young Indrajit, when armed with brace And guard(931) and bow he stands in mail And laughs at spear and arrowy hail? Within his city Lanka dwell Ten million giants fierce and fell, Who wear each varied shape at will And eat the flesh of those they kill. These hosts against the Gods he led, And heavenly might discomfited."

One day beyond the forest's bound The wandering saint a village found, And asked the swains and neatherds there Who owned the land so rich and fair, With all the hamlets of the plain, And herds of kine and fields of grain. They listened to the hermit's words, And all the guardians of the herds, With suppliant hands together pressed, This answer to the saint addressed: "The Angas' lord who bears the name Of Lomapad, renowned by fame, Bestowed these hamlets with their kine And all their riches, as a sign Of grace, on Rishyasring: and he Vibhandak's son is said to be." The hermit with exulting breast The mighty will of fate confessed, By meditation's eye discerned; And cheerful to his home returned.