Ramayana on Healing

He ceased: the Wind-God's son obeyed Swift through the clouds his way he made. He reached the hill, nor stayed to find The wondrous herbs of healing kind, From its broad base the mount he tore With all the shrubs and trees it bore, Sped through the clouds again and showed To wise Sushen his woody load.(997) Sushen in wonder viewed the hill, And culled the sovereign salve of ill. Soon as the healing herb he found, The fragrant leaves he crushed and ground. Then over Lakshman's face he bent, Who, healed and strengthened by the scent Of that blest herb divinely sweet, Rose fresh and lusty on his feet.

"O brother, hear! since Rama's queen A captive in thy house has been, Disastrous omens day by day Have struck our souls with wild dismay. No longer still and strong and clear The flames of sacrifice appear, But, restless with the frequent spark, Neath clouds of smoke grow faint and dark. Our ministering priests turn pale To see their wonted offerings fail, And ants and serpents creep and crawl Within the consecrated hall.(916) Dried are the udders of our cows, Our elephants have juiceless brows,(917) Nor can the sweetest pasture stay The charger's long unquiet neigh. Big tears from mules and camels flow Whose staring coats their trouble show, Nor can the leech's art restore Their health and vigour as before. Rapacious birds are fierce and bold: Not single hunters as of old, In banded troops they chase the prey, Or gathering on our temples stay. Through twilight hours with shriek and howl Around the city jackals prowl, And wolves and foul hyaenas wait Athirst for blood at every gate. One sole atonement still may cure These evils, and our weal assure. Restore the Maithil dame, and win An easy pardon for thy sin."

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?"

On that same day that saw the king His gift of kine distributing, The lord of Kekaya's son, by name Yudhajit, Bharat's uncle, came, Asked of the monarch's health, and then Addressed the reverend king of men: "The lord of Kekaya's realm by me Sends greeting, noble King, to thee: Asks if the friends thy prayers would bless Uninterrupted health possess. Right anxious, mighty King, is he My sister's princely boy to see. For this I sought Ayodhya fair The message of my sire to bear. There learning, O my liege, that thou With sons and noble kinsmen now Wast resting here, I sought the place Longing to see my nephew's face." The king with kind observance cheered His friend by tender ties endeared, And every choicest honour pressed Upon his honourable guest.

Sushen made answer: "Hear me yet: When Gods and fiends in battle met, So fiercely fought the demon crew, So wild a storm of arrows flew, That heavenly warriors faint with pain, Sank smitten by the ceaseless rain. Vrihaspati,(959) with herb and spell, Cured the sore wounds of those who fell. And, skilled in arts that heal and save, New life and sense and vigour gave. Far, on the Milky Ocean's shore, Still grow those herbs in boundless store; Let swiftest Vanars thither speed And bring them for our utmost need. Those herbs that on the mountain spring Let Panas and Sampati bring, For well the wondrous leaves they know, That heal each wound and life bestow. Beside that sea which, churned of yore, The amrit on its surface bore, Where the white billows lash the land, Chandra's fair height and Drona stand. Planted by Gods each glittering steep Looks down upon the milky deep. Let fleet Hanuman bring us thence Those herbs of wondrous influence."

Thus Rama gave his sorrow vent, And from a heart which anguish rent, Mourned for his wife in loud lament,-- Her of the glorious hair, From Lakshman's cheek the colour fled, And o'er his heart came sudden dread, Sick, faint, and sore disquieted By woe too great to bear.

The Town-destroyer, Thousand-eyed, Who smote fierce Bali till he died, Joined suppliant hands, and thus replied: "Thy children heavenly forms shall wear; The names devised by thee shall bear, And, Maruts called by my decree, Shall Amrit drink and wait on me. From fear and age and sickness freed, Through the three worlds their wings shall speed."

"Yea, dearer than my noblest friends Is he on whom our hope depends. For if the Wind-God's son survive, All we though dead are yet alive. But if his precious life be fled Though living still we are but dead: He is our hope and sure relief." Thus slowly spoke the aged chief: Then to his side Hanuman came, And with low reverence named his name. Cheered by the face he longed to view The wounded chieftain lived anew. "Go forth," he cried, "O strong and brave, And in their woe the Vanars save. No might but thine, supremely great, May help us in our lost estate. The trembling bears and Vanars cheer, Calm their sad hearts, dispel their fear. Save Raghu's noble sons, and heal The deep wounds of the winged steel. High o'er the waters of the sea To far Himalaya's summits flee. Kailasa there wilt thou behold, And Rishabh, with his peaks of gold. Between them see a mountain rise Whose splendour will enchant thine eyes; His sides are clothed above, below, With all the rarest herbs that grow. Upon that mountain's lofty crest Four plants, of sovereign powers possessed, Spring from the soil, and flashing there Shed radiance through the neighbouring air. One draws the shaft: one brings again The breath of life to warm the slain; One heals each wound; one gives anew To faded cheeks their wonted hue. Fly, chieftain, to that mountain's brow And bring those herbs to save us now."

Two vulture brothers once I knew: Each form at will could they endue. They of the vulture race were kings, And flew with Matarisva's(774) wings. In human shape they loved to greet Their hermit friend, and clasp his feet. The younger was Jatayus, thou The elder whom I gaze on now. Say, has disease or foeman's hate Reduced thee from thy high estate?"

"My arm presaging throbs amain, My troubled heart is sick with pain, And cheerless omens ill portend Where'er my anxious eyes I bend. Dear brother, hear my words: advance Resolved and armed for every chance, For every sign I mark to-day Foretells a peril in the way. This bird of most ill-omened note, Loud screaming with discordant throat, Announces with a warning cry That strife and victory are nigh."

"Dismiss the hope of conquering one So stern and strong as Raghu's son. In due control each sense he keeps With constant care that never sleeps. Whose daring heart has e'er conceived The exploit Hanuman achieved, Across the fearful sea to spring, The tributary rivers' king? O Rakshas lords, in time be wise, Nor Rama's matchless power despise. And say, what evil had the son Of Raghu to our monarch done, Who stole the dame he loved so well And keeps her in his citadel; If Khara in his foolish pride Encountered Rama, fought, and died, May not the meanest love his life And guard it in the deadly strife? The Maithil dame, O Rakshas King, Sore peril to thy realm will bring. Restore her while there yet is time, Nor let us perish for thy crime. O, let the Maithil lady go Ere the avenger bend his bow To ruin with his arrowy showers Our Lanka with her gates and towers. Let Janak's child again be free Ere the wild Vanars cross the sea, In their resistless might assail Our city and her ramparts scale. Ah, I conjure thee by the ties Of brotherhood, be just and wise. In all my thoughts thy good I seek, And thus my prudent counsel speak. Let captive Sita be restored Ere, fierce as autumn's sun, her lord Send his keen arrows from the string To drink the life-blood of our king. This fury from thy soul dismiss, The bane of duty, peace, and bliss. Seek duty's path and walk therein, And joy and endless glory win. Restore the captive, ere we feel The piercing point of Rama's steel. O spare thy city, spare the lives Of us, our friends, our sons and wives."

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

Then with Sugriva for his guide, Came Rama to the ocean side. He smote the sea with shafts as bright As sunbeams in their summer height, And quick appeared the Rivers' King(38) Obedient to the summoning. A bridge was thrown by Nala o'er The narrow sea from shore to shore.(39) They crossed to Lanka's golden town, Where Rama's hand smote Ravan down. Vibhishan there was left to reign Over his brother's wide domain. To meet her husband Sita came; But Rama, stung with ire and shame, With bitter words his wife addressed Before the crowd that round her pressed. But Sita, touched with noble ire, Gave her fair body to the fire. Then straight the God of Wind appeared, And words from heaven her honour cleared. And Rama clasped his wife again, Uninjured, pure from spot and stain, Obedient to the Lord of Fire And the high mandate of his sire. Led by the Lord who rules the sky, The Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh, And honoured him with worthy meed, Rejoicing in each glorious deed. His task achieved, his foe removed, He triumphed, by the Gods approved. By grace of Heaven he raised to life The chieftains slain in mortal strife; Then in the magic chariot through The clouds to Nandigrama flew. Met by his faithful brothers there, He loosed his votive coil of hair: Thence fair Ayodhya's town he gained, And o'er his father's kingdom reigned. Disease or famine ne'er oppressed His happy people, richly blest With all the joys of ample wealth, Of sweet content and perfect health. No widow mourned her well-loved mate, No sire his son's untimely fate. They feared not storm or robber's hand; No fire or flood laid waste the land: The Golden Age(40) had come again To bless the days of Rama's reign.

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

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

Thus Raghu's son, great-hearted, prayed, And Indra thus his answer made: "High is the boon thou seekest: none Should win this grace but Raghu's son. Yet, faithful to the word I spake, I grant the prayer for thy dear sake. The Vanars whom the giants slew Their life and vigour shall renew. Their strength repaired, their gashes healed Whose torrents dyed the battle field, The warrior hosts from death shall rise Like sleepers when their slumber flies."

Thus spake the sovereign of the sky, And this was Rama's glad reply: "If I have won your grace, incline To grant this one request of mine. Restore, O King: the Vanar dead Whose blood for me was nobly shed. To life and strength my friends recall, And bring them back from Yama's hall. When, fresh in might the warriors rise, Prepare a feast to glad their eyes. Let fruits of every season glow, And streams of purest water flow."

There reigned a king of name revered, To country and to town endeared, Great Dasaratha, good and sage, Well read in Scripture's holy page: Upon his kingdom's weal intent, Mighty and brave and provident; The pride of old Ikshvaku's seed For lofty thought and righteous deed. Peer of the saints, for virtues famed, For foes subdued and passions tamed: A rival in his wealth untold Of Indra and the Lord of Gold. Like Manu first of kings, he reigned, And worthily his state maintained. For firm and just and ever true Love, duty, gain he kept in view, And ruled his city rich and free, Like Indra's Amaravati. And worthy of so fair a place There dwelt a just and happy race With troops of children blest. Each man contented sought no more, Nor longed with envy for the store By richer friends possessed. For poverty was there unknown, And each man counted as his own Kine, steeds, and gold, and grain. All dressed in raiment bright and clean, And every townsman might be seen With earrings, wreath, or chain. None deigned to feed on broken fare, And none was false or stingy there. A piece of gold, the smallest pay, Was earned by labour for a day. On every arm were bracelets worn, And none was faithless or forsworn, A braggart or unkind. None lived upon another's wealth, None pined with dread or broken health, Or dark disease of mind. High-souled were all. The slanderous word, The boastful lie, were never heard. Each man was constant to his vows, And lived devoted to his spouse. No other love his fancy knew, And she was tender, kind, and true. Her dames were fair of form and face, With charm of wit and gentle grace, With modest raiment simply neat, And winning manners soft and sweet. The twice-born sages, whose delight Was Scripture's page and holy rite, Their calm and settled course pursued, Nor sought the menial multitude. In many a Scripture each was versed, And each the flame of worship nursed, And gave with lavish hand.

And he will send great chieftains forth To east and west and south and north, To seek the distant spot where she All desolate laments for thee. He even in Ravan's halls would find Thy Sita, gem of womankind. Yea, if the blameless lady lay On Meru's loftiest steep, Or, far removed from light of day, Where hell is dark and deep, That chief of all the Vanar race His way would still explore, Meet the cowed giants face to face And thy dear spouse restore."

To every Vanar Rama gave Rich treasures from the mine and wave. And with their honours well content Homeward their steps the chieftains bent. Ten thousand years Ayodhya, blest With Rama's rule, had peace and rest, No widow mourned her murdered mate, No house was ever desolate. The happy land no murrain knew, The flocks and herds increased and grew. The earth her kindly fruits supplied, No harvest failed, no children died. Unknown were want, disease, and crime: So calm, so happy was the time.(1029)

Then Kumbhakarna laughed aloud And cried; "O Monarch, once so proud, We warned thee, but thou wouldst not hear; And now the fruits of sin appear. We warned thee, I, thy nobles, all Who loved thee, in thy council hall. Those sovereigns who with blinded eyes Neglect the foe their hearts despise, Soon, falling from their high estate Bring on themselves the stroke of fate. Accept at length, thy life to save, The counsel sage Vibhishan gave, The prudent counsel spurned before, And Sita to her lord restore."(972)

With hopeless eye and pallid mien There sat the monarch with the queen. His father's feet with reverence due He clasped, and touched Kaikeyi's too. The king, with eyes still brimming o'er, Cried Rama! and could do no more. His voice was choked, his eye was dim, He could not speak or look on him. Then sudden fear made Rama shake As though his foot had roused a snake, Soon as his eyes had seen the change So mournful, terrible, and strange. For there his reason well-nigh fled, Sighing, with soul disquieted, To torturing pangs a prey, Dismayed, despairing, and distraught, In a fierce whirl of wildering thought The hapless monarch lay, Like Ocean wave-engarlanded Storm-driven from his tranquil bed, The Sun-God in eclipse, Or like a holy seer, heart-stirred With anguish, when a lying word Has passed his heedless lips. The sight of his dear father, pained With woe and misery unexplained Filled Rama with unrest, As Ocean's pulses rise and swell When the great moon he loves so well Shines full upon his breast. So grieving for his father's sake, To his own heart the hero spake: "Why will the king my sire to-day No kindly word of greeting say? At other times, though wroth he be, His eyes grow calm that look on me. Then why does anguish wring his brow To see his well-beloved now?" Sick and perplexed, distraught with woe, To Queen Kaikeyi bowing low, While pallor o'er his bright cheek spread, With humble reverence he said: "What have I done, unknown, amiss To make my father wroth like this? Declare it, O dear Queen, and win His pardon for my heedless sin. Why is the sire I ever find Filled with all love to-day unkind? With eyes cast down and pallid cheek This day alone he will not speak. Or lies he prostrate neath the blow Of fierce disease or sudden woe? For all our bliss is dashed with pain, And joy unmixt is hard to gain. Does stroke of evil fortune smite Dear Bharat, charming to the sight, Or on the brave Satrughna fall, Or consorts, for he loves them all?

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.

Then Rama spoke: "O friend, relate Whence sprang fraternal strife and hate, That duly taught by thee, I may Each foeman's strength and weakness weigh: And skilled in every chance restore The blissful state thou hadst before. For, when I think of all the scorn And bitter woe thou long hast borne, My soul indignant swells with pain Like waters flushed with furious rain. Then, ere I string this bended bow, Tell me the tale I long to know, Ere from the cord my arrow fly, And low in death thy foeman lie."

Then on his wife his fury burst, And thus the guilty dame he cursed: "For countless years, disloyal spouse, Devoted to severest vows, Thy bed the ashes, air thy food, Here shalt thou live in solitude. This lonely grove thy home shall be, And not an eye thy form shall see. When Rama, Dasaratha's child, Shall seek these shades then drear and wild, His coming shall remove thy stain, And make the sinner pure again. Due honour paid to him, thy guest, Shall cleanse thy fond and erring breast, Thee to my side in bliss restore, And give thy proper shape once more."(218)

While thus the high-souled monarch spoke To the stern queen, the Morning broke, And holy night had slowly fled, With moon and stars engarlanded. Yet once again the cruel queen Spoke words in answer fierce and keen, Still on her evil purpose bent, Wild with her rage and eloquent: "What speech is this? Such words as these Seem sprung from poison-sown disease. Quick to thy noble Rama send And bid him on his sire attend. When to my son the rule is given; When Rama to the woods is driven; When not a rival copes with me, From chains of duty thou art free."

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.

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."

As Rama, vanquished, wept and sighed The Vanar chieftain thus replied: "Great Prince, unmanly thoughts dismiss, Nor yield thy soul to grief like this. In vain those burning tears are shed: Our glory Lakshman is not dead. Death on his brow no mark has set, Where beauty's lustre lingers yet. Clear is the skin, and tender hues Of lotus flowers his palms suffuse. O Rama, cheer thy trembling heart; Not thus do life and body part. Now, Hanuman, to thee I speak: Hie hence to tall Mahodaya's(996) peak Where herbs of sovereign virtue grow Which life and health and strength bestow Bring thou the leaves to balm his pain, And Lakshman shall be well again."

She spoke, and by his words relieved, The food from Indra's hand received, Yet ere she ate the balm he brought, On Lakshman and her lord she thought. "If my brave lord be still alive, If valiant Lakshman yet survive, May this my taste of heavenly food Bring health to them and bliss renewed!" She ate, and that celestial food Stayed hunger, thirst, and lassitude, And all her strength restored. Great joy her hopeful spirit stirred At the glad tidings newly heard Of Lakshman and her lord. And Indra's heart was joyful too: He bade the Maithil dame adieu, His saving errand done. With Sleep beside him parting thence He sought his heavenly residence To prosper Raghu's son.

So far she spake by rage impelled, And then the queen deep silence held. He heard her speech full fraught with ill, But spoke no word bewildered still, Gazed on his love once held so dear Who spoke unlovely rede to hear; Then as he slowly pondered o'er The queen's resolve and oath she swore. Once sighing forth, Ah Rama! he Fell prone as falls a smitten tree. His senses lost like one insane, Faint as a sick man weak with pain, Or like a wounded snake dismayed, So lay the king whom earth obeyed. Long burning sighs he slowly heaved, As, conquered by his woe, he grieved, And thus with tears and sobs between His sad faint words addressed the queen:

"O brother Lakshman, look on these Reclining at the roots of trees; All care of house and home resigned, Caring for us with heart and mind, These people of the city yearn To see us to our home return: To quit their lives will they consent, But never leave their firm intent. Come, while they all unconscious sleep, Let us upon the chariot leap, And swiftly on our journey speed Where naught our progress may impede, That these fond citizens who roam Far from Ikshvaku's ancient home, No more may sleep 'neath bush and tree, Following still for love of me. A prince with tender care should heal The self-brought woes his people feel, And never let his subjects share The burthen he is forced to bear."

While thus he spoke, the envoys borne On horses faint and travel-worn Had gained the city fenced around With a deep moat's protecting bound. An audience of the king they gained, And honours from the prince obtained; The monarch's feet they humbly pressed, To Bharat next these words addressed: "The household priest and peers by us Send health to thee and greet thee thus: "Come to thy father's house with haste: Thine absent time no longer waste." Receive these vestures rich and rare, These costly gems and jewels fair, And to thy uncle here present Each precious robe and ornament. These for the king and him suffice-- Two hundred millions is their price-- These, worth a hundred millions, be Reserved, O large-eyed Prince, for thee."

But in the monarch's palace, when Sped from the bower that lord of men, Up from the weeping women went A mighty wail and wild lament: "Ah, he who ever freely did His duty ere his sire could bid, Our refuge and our sure defence, This day will go an exile hence, He on Kausalya loves to wait Most tender and affectionate, And as he treats his mother, thus From childhood has he treated us. On themes that sting he will not speak, And when reviled is calm and meek. He soothes the angry, heals offence: He goes to-day an exile hence. Our lord the king is most unwise, And looks on life with doting eyes, Who in his folly casts away The world's protection, hope, and stay."

Thus with due praise the long-eyed dame, Ennobled by her spotless fame, With wreaths of flowers and precious scent Worshipped the Gods, most reverent. A high-souled Brahman lit the fire, And offered, at the queen's desire, The holy oil ordained to burn For Rama's weal and safe return. Kausalya best of dames, with care Set oil, wreaths, fuel, mustard, there. Then when the rites of fire had ceased, For Rama's bliss and health, the priest, Standing without gave what remained In general offering,(299) as ordained. Dealing among the twice-horn train Honey, and curds, and oil, and grain, He bade each heart and voice unite To bless the youthful anchorite. Then Rama's mother, glorious dame Bestowed, to meet the Brahman's claim, A lordly fee for duty done: And thus again addressed her son:

Again the hero spake, as round The king his shapely arms he wound: "Guha, I see that all is well With thee and those who with thee dwell; That health and bliss and wealth attend Thy realm, thyself, and every friend. But all these friendly gifts of thine, Bound to refuse, I must decline. Grass, bark, and hide my only wear, And woodland roots and fruit my fare, On duty all my heart is set; I seek the woods, an anchoret. A little grass and corn to feed The horses--this is all I need. So by this favour, King, alone Shall honour due to me be shown. For these good steeds who brought me here Are to my sire supremely dear; And kind attention paid to these Will honour me and highly please."

Thus to the mighty king who broke His foemens' might, Lord Brahma spoke, And with his Gods around him rose To his own heaven of blest repose. The royal sage no more delayed, But, the libation duly paid, Home to his regal city hied With water cleansed and purified. There ruled he his ancestral state, Best of all men, most fortunate. And all the people joyed again In good Bhagirath's gentle reign. Rich, prosperous, and blest were they, And grief and sickness fled away. Thus, Rama, I at length have told How Ganga came from heaven of old. Now, for the evening passes swift, I wish thee each auspicious gift. This story of the flood's descent Will give--for 'tis most excellent-- Wealth, purity, fame, length of days, And to the skies its hearers raise"

My shafts this day, for Sita's sake, The life of every fiend shall take. The Gods this day shall see the force That wings my arrows on their course, And mark how far that course is held, By my unsparing wrath impelled. No God, not one of Daitya strain, Goblin or Rakshas shall remain. My wrath shall end the worlds, and all Demons and Gods therewith shall fall. Each world which Gods, the Danav race, And giants make their dwelling place, Shall fall beneath my arrows sent In fury when my bow is bent. The arrows loosened from my string Confusion on the worlds shall bring. For she is lost or breathes no more, Nor will the Gods my love restore. Hence all on earth with life and breath This day I dedicate to death. All, till my darling they reveal, The fury of my shafts shall feel."

To him Mahesvar thus replied: "O strong-armed hero, lotus-eyed, Thou, best of those who love the right, Hast nobly fought the wondrous fight. Dispelled by thee the doom that spread Through trembling earth and heaven is fled. The worlds exult in light and bliss, And praise thy name, O chief, for this. Now peace to Bharat's heart restore, And bid Kausalya weep no more. Thy face let Queen Kaikeyi see, Let fond Sumitra gaze on thee. The longing of thy friends relieve, The kingdom of thy sires receive. Let sons of gentle Sita born Ikshvaku's ancient line adorn. Then from all care and foemen freed Perform the offering of the steed. In pious gifts thy wealth expend, Then to the home of Gods ascend, Thy sire, this glorious king, behold, Among the blest in heaven enrolled. He comes from where the Immortals dwell: Salute him, for he loves thee well."

Quick came from all the glad reply: "Vasishtha, let the envoys fly!" He heard their speech, and thus renewed His charge before the multitude: "Nandan, Asok, Siddharth, attend, Your ears, Jayanta, Vijay, lend: Be yours, what need requires, to do: I speak these words to all of you. With coursers of the fleetest breed To Rajagriha's city speed. Then rid your bosoms of distress, And Bharat thus from me address: "The household priest and peers by us Send health to thee and greet thee thus: Come to thy father's home with haste: Thine absent time no longer waste." But speak no word of Rama fled, Tell not the prince his sire is dead, Nor to the royal youth the fate That ruins Raghu's race relate. Go quickly hence, and with you bear Fine silken vestures rich and rare, And gems and many a precious thing As gifts to Bharat and the king."

"Yes, when a soul defiled with sin Shall mount to heaven and enter in, Then, chieftain, will experience teach The truth of thy disdainful speech. Can I, or thou, or these or all Our bravest compass Rama's fall, The chief in whom all virtues shine, The pride of old Ikshvaku'a line, With whom the Gods may scarce compare In skill to act, in heart to dare? Yea, idly mayst thou vaunt thee, till Sharp arrows winged with matchless skill From Rama's bowstring, fleet and fierce As lightning's flame, thy body pierce. Nikumbha shall not save thee then, Nor Ravan, from the lord of men. O Monarch, hear my last appeal, My counsel for thy kingdom's weal. This sentence I again declare: O giant King, beware, beware! Save from the ruin that impends Thy town, thy people, and thy friends; O hear the warning urged once more: To Raghu's son the dame restore."

Meanwhile Vibhishan with the four Stood high above the ocean shore. Sugriva and the chiefs he spied, And raised his mighty voice and cried: "From Ravan, lord of giants, I His brother, named Vibhishan, fly. From Janasthan he stole the child Of Janak by his art beguiled, And in his palace locked and barred Surrounds her with a Rakshas guard. I bade him, plied with varied lore, His hapless prisoner restore. But he, by Fate to ruin sent, No credence to my counsel lent, Mad as the fevered wretch who sees And scorns the balm to bring him ease. He scorned the sage advice I gave, He spurned me like a base-born slave. I left my children and my wife, And fly to Raghu's son for life. I pray thee, Vanar chieftain, speed To him who saves in hour of need, And tell him famed in distant lands That suppliant here Vibhishan stands."

"O Ravan, O my lord, beware Of Sita dangerous as fair, Nor on thy heedless bosom hang This serpent with a deadly fang. O King, the Maithil dame restore To Raghu's matchless son before Those warriors of the woodlands, vast As mountain peaks, approaching fast, Armed with fierce teeth and claws, enclose Thy city with unsparing foes. O, be the Maithil dame restored Ere loosened from the clanging cord The vengeful shafts of Rama fly, And low in death thy princes lie. In all thy legions hast thou one A match in war for Raghu's son? Can Kumbhakarna's self withstand, Or Indrajit, that mighty hand? In vain with Rama wilt thou strive: Thou wilt not save thy soul alive Though guarded by the Lord of Day And Storm-Gods' terrible array, In vain to Indra wilt thou fly, Or seek protection in the sky, In Yama's gloomy mansion dwell, Or hide thee in the depths of hell."

Rama and Lakshman honoured still Their godlike sire with duteous will. Two constant guides for Rama stood, His father's wish, the people's good. Attentive to the general weal He thought and wrought to please and heal. His mothers too he strove to please With love and sonly courtesies. At every time, in every spot, His holy guides he ne'er forgot. So for his virtues kind and true Dearer and dearer Rama grew To Dasaratha, Brahmans, all In town and country, great and small. And Rama by his darling's side Saw many a blissful season glide, Lodged in her soul, each thought on her, Lover, and friend, and worshipper. He loved her for his father's voice Had given her and approved the choice: He loved her for each charm she wore And her sweet virtues more and more. So he her lord and second life Dwelt in the bosom of his wife, In double form, that, e'en apart, Each heart could commune free with heart.

He ceased: and Angad bowed his head; Thence like embodied flame he sped, And lighted from his airy road Within the Rakshas king's abode. There sate, the centre of a ring Of counsellors, the giant king. Swift through the circle Angad pressed, And spoke with fury in his breast: "Sent by the lord of Kosal's land, His envoy here, O King, I stand, Angad the son of Bali: fame Has haply taught thine ears my name. Thus in the words of Rama I Am come to warn thee or defy: Come forth, and fighting in the van Display the spirit of a man. This arm shall slay thee, tyrant: all Thy nobles, kith and kin shall fall: And earth and heaven, from terror freed, Shall joy to see the oppressor bleed. Vibhishan, when his foe is slain, Anointed king in peace shall reign. Once more I counsel thee: repent, Avoid the mortal punishment, With honour due the dame restore, And pardon for thy sin implore."

Swift from the bow, as Rama drew His cord, the fiery arrow flew. Earth groaned to feel the wound, and sent A rush of water through the rent; And famed for ever is the well Of Vrana(937) where the arrow fell. Then every brook and lake beside Throughout the region Rama dried. But yet he gave a boon to bless And fertilize the wilderness: No fell disease should taint the air, And sheep and kine should prosper there: Earth should produce each pleasant root, The stately trees should bend with fruit; Oil, milk, and honey should abound, And fragrant herbs should clothe the ground. Then spake the king of brooks and seas To Raghu's son in words like these: "Now let a wondrous task be done By Nala, Visvakarma's son, Who, born of one of Vanar race, Inherits by his father's grace A share of his celestial art. Call Nala to perform his part, And he, divinely taught and skilled, A bridge athwart the sea shall build."

Thus having said to heaven he went, The saint, upon his task intent, Began his labours to renew, Which sterner yet and fiercer grew. His arms upraised, without a rest, With but one foot the earth he pressed; The air his food, the hermit stood Still as a pillar hewn from wood. Around him in the summer days Five mighty fires combined to blaze. In floods of rain no veil was spread Save clouds, to canopy his head. In the dank dews both night and day Couched in the stream the hermit lay. Thus, till a thousand years had fled, He plied his task of penance dread. Then Vishnu and the Gods with awe The labours of the hermit saw, And Sakra, in his troubled breast, Lord of the skies, his fear confessed. And brooded on a plan to spoil The merits of the hermit's toil. Encompassed by his Gods of Storm He summoned Rambha, fair of form, And spoke a speech for woe and weal, The saint to mar, the God to heal.

"Thy speech is marked with scorn of truth, With rashness and the pride of youth. Yea, to thy ruin like a child Thou pratest, and thy words are wild. Most dear, O Indrajit, to thee Should Ravan's weal and safety be, For thou art called his son, but thou Art proved his direst foeman now, When warned by me thou hast not tried To turn the coming woe aside. Both thee and him 'twere meet to slay, Who brought thee to this hall to-day, And dared so rash a youth admit To council where the wisest sit. Presumptuous, wild, devoid of sense, Filled full of pride and insolence, Thy reckless tongue thou wilt not rule That speaks the counsel of a fool. Who in the fight may brook or shun The arrows shot by Raghu's son With flame and fiery vengeance sped, Dire as his staff who rules the dead? O Ravan, let thy people live, And to the son of Raghu give Fair robes and gems and precious ore, And Sita to his arms restore."

Meanwhile the rushing wind grew loud, Red lightnings flashed from banks of cloud. The mountains shook, the wild waves rose, And smitten with resistless blows Unrooted fell each stately tree That fringed the margin of the sea. All life within the waters feared Then, as the Vanars gazed, appeared King Garud's self, a wondrous sight, Disclosed in flames of fiery light. From his fierce eye in sudden dread All serpents in a moment fled. And those transformed to shaft that bound The princes vanished in the ground. On Raghu's sons his eyes he bent, And hailed the lords armipotent. Then o'er them stooped the feathered king, And touched their faces with his wing. His healing touch their pangs allayed, And closed each rent the shafts had made. Again their eyes were bright and bold, Again the smooth skin shone like gold. Again within their shell enshrined Came memory and each power of mind: And, from those numbing bonds released, Their spirit, zeal, and strength increased. Firm on their feet they stood, and then Thus Rama spake, the lord of men:

As Lakshman still his vigil held By unaffected love impelled, Guha, whose heart the sight distressed, With words like these the prince addressed: "Beloved youth, this pleasant bed Was brought for thee, for thee is spread; On this, my Prince, thine eyelids close, And heal fatigue with sweet repose. My men are all to labour trained, But hardship thou hast ne'er sustained. All we this night our watch will keep And guard Kakutstha's son asleep. In all the world there breathes not one More dear to me than Raghu's son. The words I speak, heroic youth, Are true: I swear it by my truth. Through his dear grace supreme renown Will, so I trust, my wishes crown. So shall my life rich store obtain Of merit, blest with joy and gain. While Raghu's son and Sita lie Entranced in happy slumber, I Will, with my trusty bow in hand, Guard my dear friend with all my band. To me, who oft these forests range, Is naught therein or new or strange. We could with equal might oppose A four-fold army led by foes."

Thus spake Ikshvaku's son, and ceased: The giants from their bonds released Lauded the King with glad accord, And hasted homeward to their lord. Before the tyrant side by side Suka and Saran stood and cried: "Vibhishan seized us, King, and fain His helpless captives would have slain. But glorious Rama saw us; he, Great-hearted hero, made us free. There in one spot our eyes beheld Four chiefs on earth unparalleled, Who with the guardian Gods may vie Who rule the regions of the sky. There Rama stood, the boast and pride Of Raghu's race, by Lakshman's side. There stood the sage Vibhishan, there Sugriva strong beyond compare. These four alone can batter down Gate, rampart, wall, and Lanka's town. Nay, Rama matchless in his form, A single foe, thy town would storm: So wondrous are his weapons, he Needs not the succour of the three. Why speak we of the countless train That fills the valley, hill and plain, The millions of the Vanar breed Whom Rama and Sugriva lead? O King, be wise, contend no more, And Sita to her lord restore."

Thus by the Lord of Gods addressed, Trisanku fell from fancied rest, And screaming in his swift descent, "O, save me, Hermit!" down he went. And Visvamitra heard his cry, And marked him falling from the sky, And giving all his passion sway, Cried out in fury, "Stay, O stay!" By penance-power and holy lore, Like Him who framed the worlds of yore, Seven other saints he fixed on high To star with light the southern sky. Girt with his sages forth he went, And southward in the firmament New wreathed stars prepared to set In many a sparkling coronet. He threatened, blind with rage and hate, Another Indra to create, Or, from his throne the ruler hurled, All Indraless to leave the world. Yea, borne away by passion's storm, The sage began new Gods to form. But then each Titan, God, and saint, Confused with terror, sick and faint, To high souled Visvamitra hied, And with soft words to soothe him tried: "Lord of high destiny, this king, To whom his master's curses cling, No heavenly home deserves to gain, Unpurified from curse and stain."

A thousand years had reached their close, When calmly from the ocean rose The gentle sage(205) with staff and can, Lord of the art of healing man. Then as the waters foamed and boiled, As churning still the Immortals toiled, Of winning face and lovely frame, Forth sixty million fair ones came. Born of the foam and water, these Were aptly named Apsarases.(206) Each had her maids. The tongue would fail-- So vast the throng--to count the tale. But when no God or Titan wooed A wife from all that multitude, Refused by all, they gave their love In common to the Gods above. Then from the sea still vext and wild Rose Sura,(207) Varun's maiden child. A fitting match she sought to find: But Diti's sons her love declined, Their kinsmen of the rival brood To the pure maid in honour sued. Hence those who loved that nymph so fair The hallowed name of Suras bear. And Asurs are the Titan crowd Her gentle claims who disallowed. Then from the foamy sea was freed Uchchaihsravas,(208) the generous steed, And Kaustubha, of gems the gem,(209) And Soma, Moon God, after them.

As Saint Vasishtha answered so, Nor let the cow of plenty go, The monarch, as a last resource, Began to drag her off by force. While the king's servants tore away Their moaning, miserable prey, Sad, sick at heart, and sore distressed, She pondered thus within her breast: "Why am I thus forsaken? why Betrayed by him of soul most high. Vasishtha, ravished by the hands Of soldiers of the monarch's bands? Ah me! what evil have I done Against the lofty-minded one, That he, so pious, can expose The innocent whose love he knows?" In her sad breast as thus she thought, And heaved deep sighs with anguish fraught, With wondrous speed away she fled, And back to Saint Vasishtha sped. She hurled by hundreds to the ground The menial crew that hemmed her round, And flying swifter than the blast Before the saint herself she cast. There Dapple-skin before the saint Stood moaning forth her sad complaint, And wept and lowed: such tones as come From wandering cloud or distant drum. "O son of Brahma," thus cried she, "Why hast thou thus forsaken me, That the king's men, before thy face, Bear off thy servant from her place?"

"Lost was my power," the king replied, "All strength had fled, all hope had died. The Vanars owned another lord, But by thy grace was all restored. All this, O conqueror of the foe, To thee and Lakshman's aid I owe. And his should be the villain's shame Who durst deny the sacred claim. These Vanar chiefs of noblest birth Have at my bidding roamed the earth, And brought from distant regions all Our legions at their monarch's call: Fierce bears with monkey troops combined, And apes of every varied kind, Terrific in their forms, who dwell In grove and wood and bosky dell: The bright Gandharvas' brood, the seed Of Gods,(649) they change their shapes at need. Each with his legions in array, Hither, O Prince, they make their way. They come: and tens of millions swell To numbers that no tongue may tell.(650) For thee their armies will unite With chiefs, Mahendra's peers in might. From Meru and from Vindhya's chain They come like clouds that bring the rain. These round thee to the war will go, To smite to earth thy demon foe; Will slay the Rakshas and restore Thy consort when the fight is o'er."

Up sprang the Vanars from the ground And listened to the wondrous sound Of hurtling arm and thigh as through The region of the air he flew, Loud as the wind, when tempests rave, Roars in the prison of the cave. From crag to crag, from height to height; They bounded in their mad delight, And when he touched the mountain's crest, With reverent welcome round him pressed. They brought him of their woodland fruits, They brought him of the choicest roots, And laughed and shouted in their glee The noblest of their chiefs to see. Nor Hanuman delayed to greet Sage Jambavan with reverence meet; To Angad and the chiefs he bent For age and rank preeminent, And briefly spoke: "These eyes have seen, These lips addressed, the Maithil queen." They sat beneath the waving trees, And Angad spoke in words like these: "O noblest of the Vanar kind For valour power and might combined, To thee triumphant o'er the foe Our hopes, our lives and all we owe. O faithful heart in perils tried, Which toil nor fear could turn aside, Thy deed the lady will restore, And Rama's heart will ache no more."(890)

But Rama, pride of Raghu's race, Gazed tenderly on Lakshman's face, And, as the sight his spirit broke, Turned to Sushen and sadly spoke: "Where is my power and valour? how Shall I have heart for battle now, When dead before my weeping eyes My brother, noblest Lakshman, lies? My tears in blinding torrents flow, My hand unnerved has dropped my bow. The pangs of woe have blanched my cheek, My heart is sick, my strength is weak. Ah me, my brother! Ah, that I By Lakshman's side might sink and die: Life, war and conquest, all are vain If Lakshman lies in battle slain. Why will those eyes my glances shun? Hast thou no word of answer, none? Ah, is thy noble spirit flown And gone to other worlds alone? Couldst thou not let thy brother seek Those worlds with thee? O speak, O speak! Rise up once more, my brother, rise, Look on me with thy loving eyes. Were not thy steps beside me still In gloomy wood, on breezy hill? Did not thy gentle care assuage Thy brother's grief and fitful rage? Didst thou not all his troubles share, His guide and comfort in despair?"

Then Janak, best of kings, aware Of Visvamitra lodging there, With Satananda for his guide-- The priest on whom he most relied, His chaplain void of guile and stain-- And others of his priestly train, Bearing the gift that greets the guest, To meet him with all honour pressed. The saint received with gladsome mind Each honour and observance kind: Then of his health he asked the king, And how his rites were prospering, Janak, with chaplain and with priest, Addressed the hermits, chief and least, Accosting all, in due degree, With proper words of courtesy. Then, with his palms together laid, The king his supplication made: "Deign, reverend lord, to sit thee down With these good saints of high renown." Then sate the chief of hermits there, Obedient to the monarch's prayer. Chaplain and priest, and king and peer, Sate in their order, far or near. Then thus the king began to say: "The Gods have blest my rite to-day, And with the sight of thee repaid The preparations I have made. Grateful am I, so highly blest, That thou, of saints the holiest, Hast come, O Brahman, here with all These hermits to the festival. Twelve days, O Brahman Sage, remain-- For so the learned priests ordain-- And then, O heir of Kusik's name, The Gods will come their dues to claim."

Returning homeward from afar Borne on his elephant or car, He ever to the townsmen bends And greets them as beloved friends, Asks how each son, each servant thrives, How fare our pupils, offerings, wives; And like a father bids us tell, Each for himself, that all is well. If pain or grief the city tries His heart is swift to sympathize. When festive scenes our thoughts employ He like a father shares the joy. High is the fate, O King, that gave Thy Rama born to bless and save, With filial virtues fair and mild Like Kasyap old Marichi's child. Hence to the kingdom's distant ends One general prayer for him ascends. Each man in town and country prays For Rama's strength, health, length of days. With hearts sincere, their wish the same, The tender girl, the aged dame, Subject and stranger, peasant, hind, One thought impressed on every mind, At evening and at dawning day To all the Gods for Rama pray. Do thou, O King, of grace comply, And hear the people's longing cry, And let us on the throne by thee The lotus-tinted Rama see. O thou who givest boons, attend; A gracious ear, O Monarch, lend And for our weal install, Consenting to our earnest prayer, Thy godlike Rama Regent Heir, Who seeks the good of all."

"Hear me, Maricha, while I speak, And tell thee why thy home I seek. Sick and distressed am I, and see My surest hope and help in thee. Of Janasthan I need not tell, Where Surpanakha, Khara, dwell, And Dushan with the arm of might, And Trisiras, the fierce in fight, Who feeds on human flesh and gore, And many noble giants more, Who roam in dark of midnight through The forest, brave and strong and true. By my command they live at ease And slaughter saints and devotees. Those twice seven thousand giants, all Obedient to their captain's call, Joying in war and ruthless deeds Follow where mighty Khara leads. Those fearless warrior bands who roam Through Janasthan their forest home, In all their terrible array Met Rama in the battle fray. Girt with all weapons forth they sped With Khara at the army's head. The front of battle Rama held: With furious wrath his bosom swelled. Without a word his hate to show He launched the arrows from his bow. On the fierce hosts the missiles came, Each burning with destructive flame, The twice seven thousand fell o'erthrown By him, a man, on foot, alone. Khara the army's chief and pride, And Dushan, fearless warrior, died, And Trisiras the fierce was slain, And Dandak wood was free again.