Ramayana on Family

The father lent a gracious ear And listened to their tale of fear, And kindly to the Gods replied Whom woe and death had terrified: "The wisest Vasudeva,(185) who The Immortals' foe, fierce Madhu, slew, Regards broad Earth with love and pride And guards, in Kapil's form, his bride.(186) His kindled wrath will quickly fall On the king's sons and burn them all. This cleaving of the earth his eye Foresaw in ages long gone by: He knew with prescient soul the fate That Sagar's children should await."

And Kusik's son approved his speech, And moving to the sandy beach, Placed in the boat the hermit band, And reached the river's further strand. On the north bank their feet they set, And greeted all the saints they met. On Ganga's shore they lighted down, And saw Visala's lovely town. Thither, the princes by his side, The best of holy hermits hied. It was a town exceeding fair That might with heaven itself compare. Then, suppliant palm to palm applied, Famed Rama asked his holy guide: "O best of hermits, say what race Of monarchs rules this lovely place. Dear master, let my prayer prevail, For much I long to hear the tale." Moved by his words, the saintly man Visala's ancient tale began: "List, Rama, list, with closest heed The tale of Indra's wondrous deed, And mark me as I truly tell What here in ancient days befell. Ere Krita's famous Age(200) had fled, Strong were the sons of Diti(201) bred; And Aditi's brave children too Were very mighty, good, and true. The rival brothers fierce and bold Were sons of Kasyap lofty-souled. Of sister mothers born, they vied, Brood against brood, in jealous pride. Once, as they say, band met with band, And, joined in awful council, planned To live, unharmed by age and time, Immortal in their youthful prime. Then this was, after due debate, The counsel of the wise and great, To churn with might the milky sea(202) The life-bestowing drink to free. This planned, they seized the Serpent King, Vasuki, for their churning-string, And Mandar's mountain for their pole, And churned with all their heart and soul. As thus, a thousand seasons through, This way and that the snake they drew, Biting the rocks, each tortured head, A very deadly venom shed. Thence, bursting like a mighty flame, A pestilential poison came, Consuming, as it onward ran, The home of God, and fiend, and man. Then all the suppliant Gods in fear To Sankar,(203) mighty lord, drew near. To Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed, "Save us, O save us, Lord!" they prayed.

Her grief and woe she cast aside, Her lips with water purified, And thus her benison began That mother of the noblest man: "If thou wilt hear no words of mine, Go forth, thou pride of Raghu's line. Go, darling, and return with speed, Walking where noble spirits lead. May virtue on thy steps attend, And be her faithful lover's friend. May Those to whom thy vows are paid In temple and in holy shade, With all the mighty saints combine To keep that precious life of thine. The arms wise Visvamitra(292) gave Thy virtuous soul from danger save. Long be thy life: thy sure defence Shall be thy truthful innocence, And that obedience, naught can tire, To me thy mother and thy sire. May fanes where holy fires are fed, Altars with grass and fuel spread, Each sacrificial ground, each tree, Rock, lake, and mountain, prosper thee. Let old Viraj,(293) and Him who made The universe, combine to aid; Let Indra and each guardian Lord Who keeps the worlds, their help afford, And be thy constant friend the Sun, Lord Pusha, Bhaga, Aryuman.(294) Fortnights and seasons, nights and days, Years, months, and hours, protect thy ways, Vrihaspati shall still be nigh, The War-God, and the Moon on high, And Narad(295) and the sainted seven(296) Shall watch thee from their starry heaven. The mountains, and the seas which ring The world, and Varuna the King, Sky, ether, and the wind, whate'er Moves not or moves, for thee shall care. Each lunar mansion be benign, With happier light the planets shine; All gods, each light in heaven that glows, Protect my child where'er he goes. The twilight hours, the day and night, Keep in the wood thy steps aright. Watch, minute, instant, as they flee, Shall all bring happiness to thee. Celestials and the Titan brood Protect thee in thy solitude, And haunt the mighty wood to bless The wanderer in his hermit dress. Fear not, by mightier guardians screened, The giant or night-roving fiend; Nor let the cruel race who tear Man's flesh for food thy bosom scare.

Thus spake the king with many a tear; Then to his wife he cried in fear: "I cannot see thee, love; but lay Thy gentle hand in mine, I pray. Ah me, if Rama touched me thus, If once, returning home to us, He bade me wealth and lordship give, Then, so I think, my soul would live. Unlike myself, unjust and mean Have been my ways with him, my Queen, But like himself is all that he, My noble son, has done to me. His son, though far from right he stray, What prudent sire would cast away? What banished son would check his ire, Nor speak reproaches of his sire? I see thee not: these eyes grow blind, And memory quits my troubled mind. Angels of Death are round me: they Summon my soul with speed away. What woe more grievous can there be, That, when from light and life I flee, I may not, ere I part, behold My virtuous Rama, true and bold? Grief for my son, the brave and true, Whose joy it was my will to do, Dries up my breath, as summer dries The last drop in the pool that lies. Not men, but blessed Gods, are they Whose eyes shall see his face that day; See him, when fourteen years are past, With earrings decked return at last. My fainting mind forgets to think: Low and more low my spirits sink. Each from its seat, my senses steal: I cannot hear, or taste, or feel. This lethargy of soul o'ercomes Each organ, and its function numbs: So when the oil begins to fail, The torch's rays grow faint and pale. This flood of woe caused by this hand Destroys me helpless and unmanned, Resistless as the floods that bore A passage through the river shore. Ah Raghu's son, ah mighty-armed, By whom my cares were soothed and charmed, My son in whom I took delight, Now vanished from thy father's sight! Kausalya, ah, I cannot see; Sumitra, gentle devotee! Alas, Kaikeyi, cruel dame, My bitter foe, thy father's shame!"

In eager haste thus Lakshman cried, And Rama, lion lord, replied: "Still closer be the army scanned, And say who leads the warlike band." Lakshman his answer thus returned, As furious rage within him burned, Exciting him like kindled fire To scorch the army in his ire: "'Tis Bharat: he has made the throne By consecrating rites his own: To gain the whole dominion thus He comes in arms to slaughter us. I mark tree-high upon his car His flagstaff of the Kovidar,(376) I see his glittering banner glance, I see his chivalry advance: I see his eager warriors shine On elephants in lengthened line. Now grasp we each the shafts and bow, And higher up the mountain go. Or in this place, O hero, stand With weapons in each ready hand. Perhaps beneath our might may fall This leader of the standard tall, And Bharat I this day may see Who brought this mighty woe on thee, Sita, and me, who drove away My brother from the royal sway. Bharat our foe at length is nigh, And by this hand shall surely die: Brother, I see no sin at all If Bharat by my weapon fall. No fault is his who slays the foe Whose hand was first to strike the blow: With Bharat now the crime begins Who against thee and duty sins. The queen athirst for royal sway Will see her darling son to-day Fall by this hand, like some fair tree Struck by an elephant, slain by me. Kaikeyi's self shall perish too With kith and kin and retinue, And earth by my avenging deed Shall from this mass of sin be freed. This day my wrath, too long restrained, Shall fall upon the foe, unchained, Mad as the kindled flame that speeds Destroying through the grass and reeds. This day mine arrows keen and fierce The bodies of the foe shall pierce: The woods on Chitrakuta's side Shall run with torrents crimson-dyed. The wandering beasts of prey shall feed On heart-cleft elephant and steed, And drag to mountain caves away The bodies that my arrows slay.

With knitted brow and furious eye The stranger made his fierce reply: "In me O fairest dame, behold The brother of the King of Gold. The Lord of Ten Necks my title, named Ravan, for might and valour famed. Gods and Gandharva hosts I scare; Snakes, spirits, birds that roam the air Fly from my coming, wild with fear, Trembling like men when Death is near. Vaisravan once, my brother, wrought To ire, encountered me and fought, But yielding to superior might Fled from his home in sore affright. Lord of the man-drawn chariot, still He dwells on famed Kailasa's hill. I made the vanquished king resign The glorious car which now is mine,-- Pushpak, the far-renowned, that flies Will-guided through the buxom skies. Celestial hosts by Indra led Flee from my face disquieted, And where my dreaded feet appear The wind is hushed or breathless is fear. Where'er I stand, where'er I go The troubled waters cease to flow, Each spell-bound wave is mute and still And the fierce sun himself is chill. Beyond the sea my Lanka stands Filled with fierce forms and giant bands, A glorious city fair to see As Indra's Amaravati. A towering height of solid wall, Flashing afar, surrounds it all, Its golden courts enchant the sight, And gates aglow with lazulite. Steeds, elephants, and cars are there, And drums' loud music fills the air, Fair trees in lovely gardens grow Whose boughs with varied fruitage glow. Thou, beauteous Queen, with me shalt dwell In halls that suit a princess well, Thy former fellows shall forget Nor think of women with regret, No earthly joy thy soul shall miss, And take its fill of heavenly bliss. Of mortal Rama think no more, Whose terms of days will soon be o'er. King Dasaratha looked in scorn On Rama though the eldest born, Sent to the woods the weakling fool, And set his darling son to rule. What, O thou large-eyed dame, hast thou To do with fallen Rama now, From home and kingdom forced to fly, A wretched hermit soon to die?

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

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

Great rapture filled Satrughna's breast, Obedient to his brother's hest. "Send forth ten thousand men" he cried, "Let brawny arms be stoutly plied, And, smoothing all with skilful care, The road for Kosal's king prepare. Then o'er the earth let thousands throw Fresh showers of water cool as snow, And others strew with garlands gay With loveliest blooms our monarch's way. On tower and temple porch and gate Let banners wave in royal state, And be each roof and terrace lined With blossoms loose and chaplets twined."

To all the princes, young and brave, His soul with fond affection clave; Around his loving heart they clung Like arms from his own body sprung.(259) But best and noblest of the four, Good as the God whom all adore, Lord of all virtues, undefiled, His darling was his eldest child. For he was beautiful and strong, From envy free, the foe of wrong, With all his father's virtues blest, And peerless in the world confessed. With placid soul he softly spoke: No harsh reply could taunts provoke. He ever loved the good and sage Revered for virtue and for age, And when his martial tasks were o'er Sate listening to their peaceful lore. Wise, modest, pure, he honoured eld, His lips from lying tales withheld; Due reverence to the Brahmans gave, And ruled each passion like a slave. Most tender, prompt at duty's call, Loved by all men he loved them all. Proud of the duties of his race, With spirit meet for Warrior's place. He strove to win by glorious deed, Throned with the Gods, a priceless meed. With him in speech and quick reply Vrihaspati might hardly vie, But never would his accents flow For evil or for empty show. In art and science duly trained, His student vow he well maintained; He learnt the lore for princes fit, The Vedas and their Holy Writ, And with his well-drawn bow at last His mighty father's fame surpassed. Of birth exalted, truthful, just, With vigorous hand, with noble trust, Well taught by aged twice-born men Who gain and right could clearly ken, Full well the claims and bounds he knew Of duty, gain, and pleasure too: Of memory keen, of ready tact, In civil business prompt to act. Reserved, his features ne'er disclosed What counsel in his heart reposed. All idle rage and mirth controlled, He knew the times to give and hold, Firm in his faith, of steadfast will, He sought no wrong, he spoke no ill: Not rashly swift, not idly slow, His faults and others' keen to know. Each merit, by his subtle sense; He matched with proper recompense.

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

Thus closely questioned by the youth, Kaikeyi spoke the mournful truth: "The high-souled monarch wept and sighed, For Rama, Sita, Lakshman, cried, Then, best of all who go to bliss, Passed to the world which follows this. "Ah, blessed are the people who Shall Rama and his Sita view, And Lakshman of the mighty arm, Returning free from scathe and harm." Such were the words, the last of all, Thy father, ere he died, let fall, By Fate and Death's dread coils enwound, As some great elephant is bound."

There many a crown and chain they wove Of blooms from that Asoka grove, And in their graceful sport the two Fresh beauty o'er the mountain threw. The lover let his love survey Each pleasant spot that round them lay, Then turned they to their green retreat Where all was garnished, gay, and neat. By brotherly affection led, Sumitra's son to meet them sped, And showed the labours of the day Done while his brother was away. There lay ten black-deer duly slain With arrows pure of poison stain, Piled in a mighty heap to dry, With many another carcass nigh. And Lakshman's brother saw, o'erjoyed, The work that had his hands employed, Then to his consort thus he cried: "Now be the general gifts supplied." Then Sita, fairest beauty, placed The food for living things to taste, And set before the brothers meat And honey that the pair might eat. They ate the meal her hands supplied, Their lips with water purified: Then Janak's daughter sat at last And duly made her own repast. The other venison, to be dried, Piled up in heaps was set aside, And Rama told his wife to stay And drive the flocking crows away. Her husband saw her much distressed By one more bold than all the rest, Whose wings where'er he chose could fly, Now pierce the earth, now roam the sky. Then Rama laughed to see her stirred To anger by the plaguing bird: Proud of his love the beauteous dame With burning rage was all aflame. Now here, now there, again, again She chased the crow, but all in vain, Enraging her, so quick to strike With beak and wing and claw alike: Then how the proud lip quivered, how The dark frown marked her angry brow! When Rama saw her cheek aglow With passion, he rebuked the crow. But bold in impudence the bird, With no respect for Rama's word, Fearless again at Sita flew: Then Rama's wrath to fury grew. The hero of the mighty arm Spoke o'er a shaft the mystic charm, Laid the dire weapon on his bow And launched it at the shameless crow.

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

Fine are the laws which guide the good, Abstruse, and hardly understood; Only the soul, enthroned within The breast of each, knows right from sin. But thou art wild and weak of soul, And spurnest, like thy race, control; The true and right thou canst not find, The blind consulting with the blind. Incline thine ear and I will teach The cause that prompts my present speech. This tempest of thy soul assuage, Nor blame me in thine idle rage. On this great sin thy thoughts bestow, The sin for which I lay thee low. Thou, Bali, in thy brother's life Hast robbed him of his wedded wife, And keepest, scorning ancient right, His Ruma for thine own delight. Thy son's own wife should scarcely be More sacred in thine eyes than she. All duty thou hast scorned, and hence Comes punishment for dire offence. For those who blindly do amiss There is, I ween, no way but this: To check the rash who dare to stray From customs which the good obey, I may not, sprung of Kshatriya line, Forgive this heinous sin of thine: The laws for those who sin like thee The penalty of death decree. Now Bharat rules with sovereign sway, And we his royal word obey. There was no hope of pardon, none, For the vile deed that thou hast done, That wisest monarch dooms to die The wretch whose crimes the law defy; And we, chastising those who err, His righteous doom administer. My soul accounts Sugriva dear E'en as my brother Lakshman here. He brings me blessing, and I swore His wife and kingdom to restore: A bond in solemn honour bound When Vanar chieftains stood around. And can a king like me forsake His friend, and plighted promise break? Reflect, O Vanar, on the cause, The sanction of eternal laws, And, justly smitten down, confess Thou diest for thy wickedness. By honour was I bound to lend Assistance to a faithful friend; And thou hast met a righteous fate Thy former sins to expiate. And thus wilt thou some merit win And make atonement for thy sin.

He heard, and thus his answer made: "O, be not troubled, nor afraid, But trust, and thou shalt know ere long My love has done thee, sweet, no wrong, So strong and brave and wise shall be The glorious child I give to thee. Might shall be his that naught can tire, And limbs to spring as springs his sire." Thus spoke the God; the conquered dame Rejoiced in heart nor feared the shame. Down in a cave beneath the earth The happy mother gave thee birth. Once o'er the summit of the wood Before thine eyes the new sun stood. Thou sprangest up in haste to seize What seemed the fruitage of the trees. Up leapt the child, a wondrous bound, Three hundred leagues above the ground, And, though the angered Day-God shot His fierce beams on him, feared him not. Then from the hand of Indra came A red bolt winged with wrath and flame. The child fell smitten on a rock, His cheek was shattered by the shock, Named Hanuman(783) thenceforth by all In memory of the fearful fall. The wandering Wind-God saw thee lie With bleeding cheek and drooping eye, And stirred to anger by thy woe Forbade each scented breeze to blow. The breath of all the worlds was stilled, And the sad Gods with terror filled Prayed to the Wind, to calm the ire And soothe the sorrow of the sire. His fiery wrath no longer glowed, And Brahma's self the boon bestowed That in the brunt of battle none Should slay with steel the Wind-God's son. Lord Indra, sovereign of the skies, Bent on thee all his thousand eyes, And swore that ne'er the bolt which he Hurls from the heaven should injure thee. 'Tis thine, O mighty chief, to share The Wind-God's power, his son and heir. Sprung from that glorious father thou, And thou alone, canst aid us now. This earth of yore, through all her climes, I circled one-and-twenty times, And gathered, as the Gods decreed, Great store of herbs from hill and mead, Which, scattered o'er the troubled wave, The Amrit to the toilers gave.

"The rites were o'er, the maids were wed, The bridegroom to his home was sped. The sonless monarch bade prepare A sacrifice to gain an heir. Then Kusa, Brahma's son, appeared, And thus King Kusanabha cheered: "Thou shalt, my child, obtain a son Like thine own self, O holy one. Through him for ever, Gadhi named, Shalt thou in all the worlds be famed." He spoke, and vanished from the sight To Brahma's world of endless light. Time fled, and, as the saint foretold, Gadhi was born, the holy-souled. My sire was he; through him I trace My line from royal Kusa's race. My sister--elder-born was she-- The pure and good Satyavati,(176) Was to the great Richika wed. Still faithful to her husband dead, She followed him, most noble dame, And, raised to heaven in human frame, A pure celestial stream became. Down from Himalaya's snowy height, In floods for ever fair and bright, My sister's holy waves are hurled To purify and glad the world. Now on Himalaya's side I dwell Because I love my sister well. She, for her faith and truth renowned, Most loving to her husband found, High-fated, firm in each pure vow, Is queen of all the rivers now. Bound by a vow I left her side And to the Perfect convent hied. There, by the aid 'twas thine to lend, Made perfect, all my labours end. Thus, mighty Prince, I now have told My race and lineage, high and old, And local tales of long ago Which thou, O Rama, fain wouldst know. As I have sate rehearsing thus The midnight hour is come on us. Now, Rama, sleep, that nothing may Our journey of to-morrow stay. No leaf on any tree is stirred: Hushed in repose are beast and bird: Where'er you turn, on every side, Dense shades of night the landscape hide, The light of eve is fled: the skies, Thick-studded with their host of eyes, Seem a star-forest overhead, Where signs and constellations spread. Now rises, with his pure cold ray, The moon that drives the shades away, And with his gentle influence brings Joy to the hearts of living things.

Speak, brother, tell thy foeman's name Whom I, in conquering strife, May strip of followers and fame, Of fortune, or of life. Say, how may all this sea-girt land Be brought to own thy sway: Thy faithful servant here I stand To listen and obey." Then strove the bride of Raghu's race Sad Lakshman's heart to cheer, While slowly down the hero's face, Unchecked, there rolled a tear. "The orders of my sire," he cried, "My will shall ne'er oppose: I follow still, whate'er betide, The path which duty shows."

Good Bharat, by the river side, To virtuous Rama's speech replied, And thus with varied lore addressed The prince, while nobles round him pressed: "In all this world whom e'er can we Find equal, scourge of foes, to thee? No ill upon thy bosom weighs, No thoughts of joy thy spirit raise. Approved art thou of sages old, To whom thy doubts are ever told. Alike in death and life, to thee The same to be and not to be. The man who such a soul can gain Can ne'er be crushed by woe or pain. Pure as the Gods, high-minded, wise, Concealed from thee no secret lies. Such glorious gifts are all thine own, And birth and death to thee are known, That ill can ne'er thy soul depress With all-subduing bitterness. O let my prayer, dear brother, win Thy pardon for my mother's sin. Wrought for my sake who willed it not When absent in a distant spot. Duty alone with binding chains The vengeance due to crime restrains, Or on the sinner I should lift My hand in retribution swift. Can I who know the right, and spring From Dasaratha, purest king-- Can I commit a heinous crime, Abhorred by all through endless time? The aged king I dare not blame, Who died so rich in holy fame, My honoured sire, my parted lord, E'en as a present God adored. Yet who in lore of duty skilled So foul a crime has ever willed, And dared defy both gain and right To gratify a woman's spite? When death draws near, so people say, The sense of creatures dies away; And he has proved the ancient saw By acting thus in spite of law. But O my honoured lord, be kind, Dismiss the trespass from thy mind, The sin the king committed, led By haste, his consort's wrath, and dread. For he who veils his sire's offence With tender care and reverence-- His sons approved by all shall live: Not so their fate who ne'er forgive. Be thou, my lord, the noble son, And the vile deed my sire has done, Abhorred by all the virtuous, ne'er Resent, lest thou the guilt too share.

Lakshman, with Fortune's marks impressed, His brother mournfully addressed: "Not by my heart's free impulse led, Leaving thy wife to thee I sped; But by her keen reproaches sent, O Rama, to thine aid I went. She heard afar a mournful cry, "O save me, Lakshman, or I die." The voice that spoke in moving tone Smote on her ear and seemed thine own. Soon as those accents reached her ear She yielded to her woe and fear, She wept o'ercome by grief, and cried, "Fly, Lakshman, fly to Rama's side." Though many a time she bade me speed, Her urgent prayer I would not heed. I bade her in thy strength confide, And thus with tender words replied: "No giant roams the forest shade From whom thy lord need shrink dismayed. No human voice, believe me, spoke Those words thy causeless fear that woke. Can he whose might can save in woe The heavenly Gods e'er stoop so low, And with those piteous accents call For succour like a caitiff thrall? And why should wandering giants choose The accents of thy lord to use, In alien tones my help to crave, And cry aloud, O Lakshman, save? Now let my words thy spirit cheer, Compose thy thoughts and banish fear. In hell, in earth, or in the skies There is not, and there cannot rise A champion whose strong arm can slay Thy Rama in the battle fray. To heavenly hosts he ne'er would yield Though Indra led them to the field." To soothe her thus I vainly sought: Her heart with woe was still distraught. While from her eyes the waters ran Her bitter speech she thus began: "Too well I see thy dark intent: Thy lawless thoughts on me are bent. Thou hopest, but thy hope is vain, To win my love, thy brother slain. Not love, but Bharat's dark decree To share his exile counselled thee, Or hearing now his bitter cry Thou surely to his aid wouldst fly. For love of me, a stealthy foe Thou choosest by his side to go, And now thou longest that my lord Should die, and wilt no help afford."

To the fair homes of Gods we'll fly, And bright Gandharvas in the sky, Until we reach, where'er he be, The wretch who stole thy spouse from thee. Then if the Gods will not restore Thy Sita when the search is o'er, Then, royal lord of Kosal's land, No longer hold thy vengeful hand. If meekness, prayer, and right be weak To bring thee back the dame we seek, Up, brother, with a deadly shower Of gold-bright shafts thy foes o'erpower, Fierce as the flashing levin sent From King Mahendra's firmament.

That lotus-covered stream behold Whose waters run so fresh and cold, Sweet rill, the wildfowl's loved resort, Where curlew, swan, and diver sport; Where with his consort plays the drake, And tall deer love their thirst to slake, While from each woody bank is heard The wild note of each happy bird. The music of that joyous quire Fills all my soul with soft desire; And, as I hear, my sad thoughts fly To Sita of the lotus eye, Whom, lovely with her moonbright cheek, In vain mine eager glances seek. Now turn, those chequered lawns survey Where hart and hind together stray. Ah, as they wander at their will My troubled breast with grief they fill, While torn by hopeless love I sigh For Sita of the fawn-like eye. If in those glades where, touched by spring, Gay birds their amorous ditties sing, Mine own beloved I might see, Then, brother, it were well with me: If by my side she wandered still, And this cool breeze that stirs the rill Touched with its gentle breath the brows Of mine own dear Videhan spouse. For, Lakshman, O how blest are those On whom the breath of Pampa blows, Dispelling all their care and gloom With sweets from where the lilies bloom! How can my gentle love remain Alive amid the woe and pain, Where prisoned far away she lies,-- My darling of the lotus eyes? How shall I dare her sire to greet Whose lips have never known deceit? How stand before the childless king And meet his eager questioning? When banished by my sire's decree, In low estate, she followed me. So pure, so true to every vow, Where is my gentle darling now? How can I bear my widowed lot, And linger on where she is not, Who followed when from home I fled Distracted, disinherited? My spirit sinks in hopeless pain When my fond glances yearn in vain For that dear face with whose bright eye The worshipped lotus scarce can vie. Ah when, my brother, shall I hear That voice that rang so soft and clear, When, sweetly smiling as she spoke, From her dear lips gay laughter broke?

The loving speech Sugriva heard, And all his heart with woe was stirred. Remorse and gentle pity stole Each thought of triumph from his soul: Thus fades the light when Rahu(606) mars The glory of the Lord of Stars.(607) All angry thoughts were stayed and stilled And kindly love his bosom filled. His brother's word the chief obeyed And took the chain as Bali prayed. On little Angad standing nigh The dying hero fixed his eye, And, ready from this world to part, Spoke the fond utterance of his heart:

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

Yea Queen, by bow and truth I swear, By sacrifice, and gift, and prayer, If Rama to the forest goes, Or where the burning furnace glows, First shall my feet the forest tread, The flames shall first surround my head. My might shall chase thy grief and tears, As darkness flies when morn appears. Do thou, dear Queen, and Rama too Behold what power like mine can do. My aged father I will kill, The vassal of Kaikeyi's will, Old, yet a child, the woman's thrall, Infirm, and base, the scorn of all."

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

"O thou of lofty lineage born, Whom wisdom, conduct, fame adorn, Thou for thy honoured father's sake Shouldst Rama's righteous counsel take. All debts to Queen Kaikeyi paid, Thy sire his home in heaven has made, So virtuous Rama we would see From filial obligation free." Thus gave each royal sage advice, High saint, and bard of Paradise; Then quickly vanishing from view Each to his proper home withdrew. Then Rama's face his rapture showed, And his full heart with joy o'erflowed, While, as the sages parted thence, He paid his humble reverence.

The Maithil dame with many sighs, And torrents pouring from her eyes, The faithful Lakshman thus addressed, And smote her hands upon her breast. >Sumitra's son, o'erwhelmed by fears, Looked on the large-eyed queen: He saw that flood of burning tears, He saw that piteous mien. He yearned sweet comfort to afford, He strove to soothe her pain; But to the brother of her lord She spoke no word again. His reverent hands once more he raised, His head he slightly bent, Upon her face he sadly gazed, And then toward Rama went.

"Alas, we fall, O valiant chief, From sorrow into direr grief, Still mourning her I hold so dear We see our own destruction near. Mark, brother, mark what power has time O'er all that live, in every clime. Now, lord of men, thyself and me Involved in fatal danger see. 'Tis not, be sure, the might of Fate That crushes all with deadly weight. Ne'er can the brave and strong, who know The use of spear and sword and bow, The force of conquering time withstand, But fall like barriers built of sand."

But Bali, though I humbly sued, Reviled me in his furious mood: "Out on thee, wretch!" in wrath he cried With many a bitter taunt beside. He summoned every lord, and all His subjects gathered at his call. Then forth his burning anger broke, And thus amid his friends he spoke: "I need not tell, for well ye know, How fierce Mayavi, fiend and foe, Came to Kishkindha's gate by night, And dared me in his wrath to fight. I heard each word the demon said: Forth from my royal hall I sped; And, foe in brother's guise concealed, Sugriva followed to the field. The mighty demon through the shade Beheld me come with one to aid: Then shrinking from unequal fight, He turned his back in swiftest flight. From vengeful foes his life to save He sought the refuge of a cave. Then when I saw the fiend had fled Within that cavern dark and dread, Thus to my brother cruel-eyed, Impatient in my wrath, I cried: "I seek no more my royal town Till I have struck the demon down. Here by the cavern's mouth remain Until my hand the foe have slain." Upon his faith my heart relied, And swift within the depths I hied. A year went by: in every spot I sought the fiend, but found him not. At length my foe I saw and slew, Whom long I feared when lost to view; And all his kinsmen by his side Beneath my vengeful fury died. The monster, as he reeled and fell, Poured forth his blood with roar and yell; And, filling all the cavern, dyed The portal with the crimson tide. Upon my foeman slain at last One look, one pitying look, I cast. I sought again the light of day: The cave was closed and left no way. To the barred mouth I sadly came, And called aloud Sugriva's name. But all was still: no voice replied, And hope within my bosom died. With furious efforts, vain at first, Through bars of rock my way I burst. Then, free once more, the path that brought My feet in safety home I sought. 'Twas thus Sugriva dared despise The claim of brothers' friendly ties.

He ceased: the faithful love that moved The prince's soul each heart approved; Nor could the Vanar chiefs refrain From tender tears that fell like rain. Then Rama, stirred with joy anew, His arms about his brother threw, And to the grove his course he bent Where Bharat's hermit days were spent. Alighting in that pure retreat He pressed the earth with eager feet. Then, at his hest, the car rose high And sailing through the northern sky Sped homeward to the Lord of Gold Who owned the wondrous prize of old.(1028)

Thus Rama spake. Her lord's address The lady heard with deep distress, And, as the tear bedimmed her eye, In soft low accents made reply: "The perils of the wood, and all The woes thou countest to appal, Led by my love I deem not pain; Each woe a charm, each loss a gain. Tiger, and elephant, and deer, Bull, lion, buffalo, in fear, Soon as thy matchless form they see, With every silvan beast will flee. With thee, O Rama, I must go: My sire's command ordains it so. Bereft of thee, my lonely heart Must break, and life and I must part. While thou, O mighty lord, art nigh, Not even He who rules the sky, Though He is strongest of the strong, With all his might can do me wrong. Nor can a lonely woman left By her dear husband live bereft. In my great love, my lord, I ween, The truth of this thou mayst have seen. In my sire's palace long ago I heard the chief of those who know, The truth-declaring Brahmans, tell My fortune, in the wood to dwell. I heard their promise who divine The future by each mark and sign, And from that hour have longed to lead The forest life their lips decreed. Now, mighty Rama, I must share Thy father's doom which sends thee there; In this I will not be denied, But follow, love, where thou shalt guide. O husband, I will go with thee, Obedient to that high decree. Now let the Brahmans' words be true, For this the time they had in view. I know full well the wood has woes; But they disturb the lives of those Who in the forest dwell, nor hold Their rebel senses well controlled. In my sire's halls, ere I was wed, I heard a dame who begged her bread Before my mother's face relate What griefs a forest life await. And many a time in sport I prayed To seek with thee the greenwood shade, For O, my heart on this is set, To follow thee, dear anchoret. May blessings on thy life attend: I long with thee my steps to bend, For with such hero as thou art This pilgrimage enchants my heart.

When Bharat saw Sumantra's eye Looked up to Rama for reply, The Prince himself in eager haste The sacred grass in order placed. Him great and mighty Rama, best Of royal saints, in turn addressed: "What, Bharat, have I done, that thou Besiegest me,(394) a suppliant now? Thus streched, to force redress for wrongs To men of Brahman birth belongs, Not those upon whose kingly head The consecrating drops are shed. Up, lord of men! arise, and quit This fearful vow for thee unfit. Go, brother, seek Ayodhya's town, Fair city of supreme renown."

But Sita hearing as she thought, Her husband's cry with anguish fraught, Called to her guardian, "Lakshman, run And in the wood seek Raghu's son. Scarce can my heart retain its throne, Scarce can my life be called mine own, As all my powers and senses fail At that long, loud and bitter wail. Haste to the wood with all thy speed And save thy brother in his need. Go, save him in the distant glade Where loud he calls, for timely aid. He falls beneath some giant foe-- A bull whom lions overthrow."

He ceased: the feathered monarch heard, His heart with ruth and wonder stirred: "Whose is that voice," the vulture cried, "That tells me how Jatayus died, And shakes my inmost soul with woe For a loved brother's overthrow? After long days at length I hear The glorious name of one so dear. Once more, O Vanar chieftains, tell How King Jatayus fought and fell. But first your aid, I pray you, lend, And from this peak will I descend. The sun has burnt my wings, and I No longer have the power to fly."

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."

Quick Guha hastened to produce, For the king's son, that sacred juice. Then Rama of his long locks made, And Lakshman's too, the hermit braid. And the two royal brothers there With coats of bark and matted hair, Transformed in lovely likeness stood To hermit saints who love the wood. So Rama, with his brother bold, A pious anchorite enrolled, Obeyed the vow which hermits take, And to his friend, King Guha, spake: "May people, treasure, army share, And fenced forts, thy constant care: Attend to all: supremely hard The sovereign's task, to watch and guard."

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."

"To me, O saints, ye need not sue: I wait the hests of all of you. I by mine own occasion led This mighty forest needs must tread, And while I keep my sire's decree Your lives from threatening foes will free. I hither came of free accord To lend the aid by you implored, And richest meed my toil shall pay, While here in forest shades I stay. I long in battle strife to close. And slay these fiends, the hermits' foes, That saint and sage may learn aright My prowess and my brother's might."

"In the wide woodlands that extend Around us, lord most reverend, As frequent voice of rumour tells, Agastya, saintliest hermit, dwells. So vast the wood, I cannot trace The path to reach his dwelling place, Nor, searching unassisted, find That hermit of the thoughtful mind. I with my wife and brother fain Would go, his favour to obtain, Would seek him in his lone retreat And the great saint with reverence greet. This one desire, O Master, long Cherished within my heart, is strong, That I may pay of free accord My duty to that hermit lord."

Then came the vultures' mighty king Where sat the Vanars sorrowing,-- Sampati,(761) best of birds that fly On sounding pinions through the sky, Jatayus' brother, famed of old, Most glorious and strong and bold. Upon the slope of Vindhya's hill He saw the Vanars calm and still. These words he uttered while the sight Filled his fierce spirit with delight: "Behold how Fate with changeless laws Within his toils the sinner draws, And brings me, after long delay, A rich and noble feast to-day, These Vanars who are doomed to die My hungry maw to satisfy."

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 queen, ambitious, overjoyed To see him by her plot decoyed, More eager still her aims to reach, Spoke her abominable speech: "A boon thou grantest, nothing loth, And swearest with repeated oath. Now let the thirty Gods and three My witnesses, with Indra, be. Let sun and moon and planets hear, Heaven, quarters, day and night, give ear. The mighty world, the earth outspread, With bards of heaven and demons dread; The ghosts that walk in midnight shade, And household Gods, our present aid, A every being great and small To hear and mark the oath I call."

Thus to Prayag the hero went, Thus saw the saint preeminent, And varied speeches heard and said: Then holy night o'er heaven was spread. And Rama took, by toil oppressed, With Sita and his brother, rest; And so the night, with sweet content, In Bharadvaja's grove was spent. But when the dawn dispelled the night, Rama approached the anchorite, And thus addressed the holy sire Whose glory shone like kindled fire: "Well have we spent, O truthful Sage, The night within thy hermitage: Now let my lord his guests permit For their new home his grove to quit."

Sumitra's son his words obeyed, Brought many a tree, and deftly made, With branches in the forest cut, As Rama bade, a leafy hut. Then Rama, when the cottage stood Fair, firmly built, and walled with wood, To Lakshman spake, whose eager mind To do his brother's will inclined: "Now, Lakshman as our cot is made, Must sacrifice be duly paid By us, for lengthened life who hope, With venison of the antelope. Away, O bright-eyed Lakshman, speed: Struck by thy bow a deer must bleed: As Scripture bids, we must not slight The duty that commands the rite."

"I have a wife: behold her here, My Sita ever true and dear: And one like thee will never brook Upon a rival spouse to look. But there my brother Lakshman stands: Unchained is he by nuptial bands: A youth heroic, loved of all, Gracious and gallant, fair and tall. With winning looks, most nobly bred, Unmatched till now, he longs to wed. Meet to enjoy thy youthful charms, O take him to thy loving arms. Enamoured on his bosom lie, Fair damsel of the radiant eye, As the warm sunlight loves to rest Upon her darling Meru's breast."

"Now let king-making drops be shed, Dear brother, on Vibhishan's head For truth and friendship nobly shown, And make him lord of Ravan's throne." This longing of his heart he told: And Lakshman took an urn of gold And bade the wind-fleet Vanars bring Sea water for the giants' king. The brimming urn was swiftly brought: Then on a throne superbly wrought Vibhishan sat, the giants' lord, And o'er his brows the drops were poured. As Raghu's son the rite beheld His loving heart with rapture swelled: But tenderer thoughts within him woke, And thus to Hanuman he spoke:

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."

"Heroic Rama, men proclaim The marvels of thy matchless fame, And I from loud-voiced rumour know The exploit of the broken bow, Yea, bent and broken, mighty Chief, A feat most wondrous, past belief. Stirred by thy fame thy face I sought: A peerless bow I too have brought. This mighty weapon, strong and dire, Great Jamadagni owned, my sire. Draw with its shaft my father's bow, And thus thy might, O Rama, show. This proof of prowess let me see-- The weapon bent and drawn by thee; Then single fight our strength shall try, And this shall raise thy glory high."

But Rama ceased not to upbraid, His brother for untimely aid, And thus, while anguish wrung his breast, The chief with eager question pressed: "Why, Lakshman, didst thou hurry hence And leave my wife without defence? I left her in the wood with thee, And deemed her safe from jeopardy. When first thy form appeared in view, I marked that Sita came not too. With woe my troubled soul was rent, Prophetic of the dire event. Thy coming steps afar I spied, I saw no Sita by thy side, And felt a sudden throbbing dart Through my left eye, and arm, and heart."

Thus spoke the hero, and aglow With rage of battle seized his bow. But Rama thus in gentler mood With fitting words his speech renewed: "No hero with a soul like thine To paths of sin will e'er incline, He who his angry heart can tame Is worthiest of a hero's name. Not thine, my brother, be the part So alien from the tender heart, Nor let thy feet by wrath misled Forsake the path they loved to tread. From harsh and angry words abstain: With gentle speech a hearing gain, And tax Sugriva with the crime Of failing faith and wasted time."

"A stranger from the giant host, Borne o'er the sea, has reached the coast; A secret foe, he comes to slay, As owls attack their heedless prey. 'Tis thine, O King, in time of need To watch, to counsel, and to lead, Our Vanar legions to dispose, And guard us from our crafty foes. Vibhishan from the giants' isle, King Ravan's brother, comes with guile And, feigning from his king to flee, Seeks refuge, Raghu's son, with thee. Arise, O Rama, and prevent By bold attack his dark intent. Who comes in friendly guise prepared To slay thee by his arts ensnared."

The Wind-God's son, in form a man, Raised reverent hands and thus began: "Fond greeting, Prince, I bring to thee, And Rama's self has sent it: he For whom thy spirit sorrows yet As for a hapless anchoret In Dandak wood, in dire distress, With matted hair and hermit dress. This sorrow from thy bosom fling, And hear the tale of joy I bring. This day thy brother shalt thou meet Exulting in his foe's defeat, Freed from his toil and lengthened vow, The light of victory on his brow, With Sita, Lakshman and his friends Homeward at last his steps he bends."

When the glad news Kausalya heard, So long desired, so long deferred, While tears of joy her utterance broke, In answer to her son she spoke: "Long be thy life, my darling: now Thy prostrate foes before thee bow. Live long and with thy bright success My friends and dear Sumitra's bless. Surely the stars were wondrous fair When thee, sweet son, thy mother bare, That thy good gifts such love inspire And win the favour of thy sire. With thee I travailed not in vain; Those lotus eyes reward my pain, And all the glory of the line Of old Ikshvaku will be thine."

He spoke. With tears his eyes grew dim, His senses all deserted him. He cried, O Rama, once, then weak And fainting could no further speak. Unconscious there he lay: at length Regathering his sense and strength, While his full eyes their torrents shed, To wise Sumantra thus he said: "Yoke the light car, and hither lead Fleet coursers of the noblest breed, And drive this heir of lofty fate Beyond the limit of the state. This seems the fruit that virtues bear, The meed of worth which texts declare-- The sending of the brave and good By sire and mother to the wood.'"

When evening rites were duly paid, Reclined beneath the leafy shade, To Lakshman thus spake Rama, best Of those who glad a people's breast: "Now the first night has closed the day That saw us from our country stray, And parted from the charioteer; Yet grieve not thou, my brother dear. Henceforth by night, when others sleep, Must we our careful vigil keep, Watching for Sita's welfare thus, For her dear life depends on us. Bring me the leaves that lie around, And spread them here upon the ground, That we on lowly beds may lie, And let in talk the night go by."

Thus spake the God who rules the skies, Indra, the Lord supremely wise; And gentle Surabhi, well learned In eloquence, this speech returned: "Not thine the fault, great God, not thine And guiltless are the Lords divine: I mourn two children faint with toil, Labouring hard in stubborn soil. Wasted and sad I see them now, While the sun beats on neck and brow, Still goaded by the cruel hind,-- No pity in his savage mind. O Indra, from this body sprang These children, worn with many a pang. For this sad sight I mourn, for none Is to the mother like her son."

That righteous speech, whose every word Bore virtue's stamp, the audience heard; On Rama every thought was set, And with glad tears each eye was wet. "Then, if the power I still should lack To bring my noble brother back, I in the wood will dwell, and share His banishment with Lakshman there. By every art persuasive I To bring him from the wood will try, And show him to your loving eyes, O Brahmans noble, good, and wise. E'en now, the road to make and clear, Each labourer pressed, and pioneer Have I sent forward to precede The army I resolve to lead."

Enraged he heard the monster woo; His ready sword he swiftly drew, And the sharp steel that quelled his foes Cut through her breast and ear and nose. Thus mangled by his vengeful sword In rage and pain the demon roared, And hideous with her awful face Sped to her secret dwelling place. Soon as the fiend had fled from sight, The brothers, dauntless in their might, Reached a wild forest dark and dread Whose tangled ways were hard to tread. Then bravest Lakshman, virtuous youth, The friend of purity and truth, With reverent palm to palm applied Thus to his glorious brother cried:

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."