Ramayana on Nature

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

Then all, of peerless face and limb, Sang Rama's praise for love of him, And blent their voices, soft and sweet, From palace high and crowded street: "Now, sure, Kausalya's heart must swell To see the son she loves so well, Thee Rama, thee, her joy and pride, Triumphant o'er the realm preside." Then--for they knew his bride most fair Of all who part the soft dark hair, His love, his life, possessed the whole Of her young hero's heart and soul:-- "Be sure the lady's fate repays Some mighty vow of ancient days,(283) For blest with Rama's love is she As, with the Moon's, sweet Rohini."(284)

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."

He spoke, and loosing from his hold His mighty mace ringed round with gold, Like some red bolt alive with fire Hurled it at Rama, mad with ire. The ponderous mace which Khara threw Sent fiery flashes as it flew. Trees, shrubs were scorched beneath the blast, As onward to its aim it passed. But Rama, watching as it sped Dire as His noose who rules the dead, Cleft it with arrows as it came On rushing with a hiss and flame. Its fury spent and burnt away, Harmless upon the ground it lay Like a great snake in furious mood By herbs of numbing power subdued.

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

Then leapt on high the flickering flame And shone in answer to the dame. The pitying fire its rage forbore: The Vanar felt the heat no more. Then, to minutest size reduced, The bonds that bound his limbs he loosed, And, freed from every band and chain, Rose to his native size again. He seized a club of ponderous weight That lay before him by the gate, Rushed at the fiends that hemmed him round, And laid them lifeless on the ground. Through Lanka's town again he strode, And viewed each street and square and road,-- Still wreathed about with harmless blaze, A sun engarlanded with rays.

With awful thundering overhead Clouds black as night are densely spread, And oozing from the gloomy pall Great drops of blood on Lanka fall. Dogs roam through house and shrine to steal The sacred oil and curd and meal, Cats pair with tigers, hounds with swine, And asses' foals are born of kine. In these and countless signs I trace The ruin of the giant race. 'Tis Vishnu's self who comes to storm Thy city, clothed in Rama's form; For, well I ween, no mortal hand The ocean with a bridge has spanned. O giant King, the dame release, And sue to Raghu's son for peace"

The prince, of courteous rule aware, Received, as meet, the lady's care. Then flowers came down in copious rain, And moving to the heavenly strain Of music in the skies that rang, The nymphs and minstrels danced and sang: And all the Gods with one glad voice Praised the great dame, and cried, "Rejoice! Through fervid rites no more defiled, But with thy husband reconciled." Gautam, the holy hermit knew-- For naught escaped his godlike view-- That Rama lodged beneath that shade, And hasting there his homage paid. He took Ahalya to his side, From sin and folly purified, And let his new-found consort bear In his austerities a share.

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

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.

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

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

To him by toil and sorrow tried The prudent Lakshman thus replied: "Come, though our labour yet be vain, And search through Janasthan again,-- A realm where giant foes abound, And trees and creepers hide the ground. For there are caverns deep and dread, By deer and wild birds tenanted, And hills with many a dark abyss, Grotto and rock and precipice. There bright Gandharvas love to dwell, And Kinnars in each bosky dell. With me thy eager search to aid Be every hill and cave surveyed. Great chiefs like thee, the best of men, Endowed with sense and piercing ken, Though tried by trouble never fail, Like rooted hills that mock the gale."

"Expelled from power the woods I tread, My spouse is lost, the bird is dead. A fate so sad, I ween, would tame The vigour of the glorious flame. If I to cool my fever tried To cross the deep from side to side, The sea,--so hard my fate,--would dry His waters as my feet came nigh. In all this world there lives not one So cursed as I beneath the sun; So strong a net of misery cast Around me holds the captive fast, Best of all birds that play the wing, Loved, honoured by our sire the king, The vulture, in my fate enwound, Lies bleeding, dying on the ground."

In pomp and pride of warlike state The giant passed the city gate. He raised his voice: the hills, the shore Of Lanka's sea returned the roar. The Vanars saw the chief draw nigh Whom not the ruler of the sky, Nor Yama, monarch of the dead, Might vanquish, and affrighted fled. When royal Angad, Bali's son, Saw the scared Vanars turn and run, Undaunted still he kept his ground, And shouted as he gazed around: "O Nala, Nila, stay nor let Your souls your generous worth forget, O Kumud and Gavaksha, why Like base-born Vanars will ye fly? Turn, turn, nor shame your order thus: This giant is no match for us"

The shrill cry pierced through Rama's ears And his sad eyes o'erflowed with tears, When lo, transported through the sky A glorious band of Gods was nigh. Ancestral shades,(1016) by men revered, In venerable state appeared, And he from whom all riches flow,(1017) And Yama Lord who reigns below: King Indra, thousand-eyed, and he Who wields the sceptre of the sea.(1018) The God who shows the blazoned bull,(1019) And Brahma Lord most bountiful By whose command the worlds were made All these on radiant cars conveyed, Brighter than sun-beams, sought the place Where stood the prince of Raghu's race, And from their glittering seats the best Of blessed Gods the chief addressed:

The Sire, when thus the king had prayed, In sweet kind words his answer made. "High, high thy thought and wishes are, Bhagirath of the mighty car! Ikshvaku's line is blest in thee, And as thou prayest it shall be. Ganga, whose waves in Swarga(196) flow, Is daughter of the Lord of Snow. Win Siva that his aid be lent To hold her in her mid descent, For earth alone will never bear Those torrents hurled from upper air; And none may hold her weight but He, The Trident wielding deity." Thus having said, the Lord supreme Addressed him to the heavenly stream; And then with Gods and Maruts(197) went To heaven above the firmament.

"Thou, fairer than their bloom, my spouse, Art hidden by Asoka boughs. Those blooms have power to banish care, But now they drive me to despair. Thine arms are like the plantain's stem: Why let the plantain cover them? Thou art not hidden, love; thy feet Betray thee in thy dark retreat. Thou runnest in thy girlish sport To flowery trees, thy dear resort. But cease, O cease, my love, I pray, To vex me with thy cruel play. Such mockery in a holy spot Where hermits dwell beseems thee not. Ah, now I see thy fickle mind To scornful mood too much inclined, Come, large-eyed beauty, I implore; Lone is the cot so dear before.

Beneath this rock, O Lakshman, see, My peerless consort sat with me, And gently talked to thee the while, Her sweet lips opening with a smile. Here is that fairest stream which she Loved ever, bright Godavari. Ne'er can the dame have passed this way: So far alone she would not stray, Nor has my darling, lotus-eyed, Sought lilies by the river's side, For without me she ne'er would go To streamlets where the wild flowers grow, Tell me not, brother, she has strayed To the dark forest's distant shade Where blooming boughs are gay and sweet, And bright birds love the cool retreat. Alone my love would never dare,-- My timid love,--to wander there.

While Gods and saints in close array Held converse of the coming fray, The army of the fiends drew near With sight and sound that counselled fear. Long, loud and deep their war-cry pealed, As on they rushed with flag and shield, Each, of his proper valour proud, Urging to fight the demon crowd. His ponderous bow each warrior tried, And swelled his bulk with martial pride. 'Mid shout and roar and trampling feet, And thunder of the drums they beat, Loud and more loud the tumult went Throughout the forest's vast extent, And all the life that moved within The woodland trembled at the din. In eager haste all fled to find Some tranquil spot, nor looked behind.

They led her to that garden where The sweetest flowers perfumed the air, Where bright trees bore each rarest fruit, And birds, enamoured, ne'er were mute. Bowed down with terror and distress, Watched by each cruel giantess,-- Like a poor solitary deer When ravening tigresses are near,-- The hapless lady lay distraught Like some wild thing but newly caught, And found no solace, no relief From agonizing fear and grief; Not for one moment could forget Each terrifying word and threat, Or the fierce eyes upon her set By those who watched around. She thought of Rama far away, She mourned for Lakshman as she lay In grief and terror and dismay Half fainting on the ground.

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

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

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

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:

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

Thus twice seven thousand fiends, a band With impious heart and bloody hand, By Raghu's son were overthrown, A man, on foot, and all alone. Of all who met on that fierce day, Khara, great chief, survived the fray, The monster of the triple head,(470) And Raghu's son, the foeman's dread. The other demon warriors, all Skilful and brave and strong and tall, In front of battle, side by side, Struck down by Lakshman's brother died. When Khara saw the host he led Triumphant forth to fight Stretched on the earth, all smitten dead, By Rama's nobler might, Upon his foe he fiercely glared, And drove against him fast, Like Indra when his arm is bared His thundering bolt to cast.

But special counselling he gave To Hanuman the wise and brave: To him on whom his soul relied, With friendly words the monarch cried: "O best of Vanars, naught can stay By land or sea thy rapid way, Who through the air thy flight canst bend, And to the Immortals' home ascend. All realms, I ween, are known to thee With every mountain, lake, and sea. In strength and speed which naught can tire Thou, worthy rival of thy sire The mighty monarch of the wind, Where'er thou wilt a way canst find. Exert thy power, O swift and strong, Bring back the lady lost so long, For time and place, O thou most wise, Lie open to thy searching eyes."

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

Reflecting thus, his tail ablaze As through the cloud red lightning plays, He scaled the palaces and spread The conflagration where he sped. From house to house he hurried on, And the wild flames behind him shone. Each mansion of the foe he scaled, And furious fire its roof assailed Till all the common ruin shared: Vibhishan's house alone was spared. From blazing pile to pile he sprang, And loud his shout of triumph rang, As roars the doomsday cloud when all The worlds in dissolution fall. The friendly wind conspired to fan The hungry flames that leapt and ran, And spreading in their fury caught The gilded walls with pearls inwrought, Till each proud palace reeled and fell As falls a heavenly citadel.

The aged king for Rama pined, And for the skies the earth resigned. Bharat, his son, refused to reign, Though urged by all the twice-born(29) train. Forth to the woods he fared to meet His brother, fell before his feet, And cried, "Thy claim all men allow: O come, our lord and king be thou." But Rama nobly chose to be Observant of his sire's decree. He placed his sandals(30) in his hand A pledge that he would rule the land: And bade his brother turn again. Then Bharat, finding prayer was vain, The sandals took and went away; Nor in Ayodhya would he stay. But turned to Nandigrama, where He ruled the realm with watchful care, Still longing eagerly to learn Tidings of Rama's safe return.

All earth I brought beneath my sway, And gave it for his meed and pay To holy Kasyap, when of yore The rites performed by him were o'er. Then to Mahendra's hill I turned Strong in the strength that penance earned, And toiled upon his lofty head By Gods immortal visited. The breaking of the bow I knew From startled Gods conversing, through The airy regions, of thy deed, And hither came with swiftest speed. Now, for thy Warrior's honour sake, This best of bows, O Rama, take: This, owned by Vishnu's self of old, My sire and grandsire loved to hold. Drawn to its head upon the string, One town-destroying arrow bring; If this thou can, O hero, I In single fight thy strength will try."

When Lakshman, who had joined them there, Had heard the converse of the pair, His mien was changed, his eyes o'erflowed, His breast no more could bear its load. The son of Raghu, sore distressed, His brother's feet with fervour pressed, While thus to Sita he complained, And him by lofty vows enchained: "If thou wilt make the woods thy home, Where elephant and roebuck roam, I too this day will take my bow And in the path before thee go. Our way will lie through forest ground Where countless birds and beasts are found, I heed not homes of Gods on high, I heed not life that cannot die, Nor would I wish, with thee away, O'er the three worlds to stretch my sway."

"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."

Then when the princes' mournful train Heard the sad brothers thus complain, And saw their misery, at the view Their grief burst wilder out anew. Faint with lamenting, sad and worn, Each like a bull with broken horn, The brothers in their wild despair Lay rolling, mad with misery, there. Then old Vasishtha good and true, Their father's priest, all lore who knew, Raised weeping Bharat on his feet, And thus bespake with counsel meet: "Twelve days, my lord, have past away Since flames consumed thy father's clay: Delay no more: as rules ordain, Gather what bones may yet remain. Three constant pairs are ever found To hem all mortal creatures round:(354) Then mourn not thus, O Prince, for none Their close companionship may shun."

The princes, when the night had fled, Farewell to all the hermits said, Who gazed upon the distant shade, Their lustral rites and offerings paid. The saints who made their dwelling there In words like these addressed the pair: "O Princes, monsters fierce and fell Around that distant forest dwell: On blood from human veins they feed, And various forms assume at need, With savage beasts of fearful power That human flesh and blood devour. Our holy saints they rend and tear When met alone or unaware, And eat them in their cruel joy: These chase, O Rama, or destroy. By this one path our hermits go To fetch the fruits that yonder grow: By this, O Prince, thy feet should stray Through pathless forests far away."

Thus Hanuman their leader prayed, And thus the dame her answer made: "Scarce may the living find their way Returning hence to light of day; But I will free you through the might Of penance, fast, and holy rite. Close for a while your eyes, or ne'er May you return to upper air." She ceased: the Vanars all obeyed; Their fingers on their eyes they laid, And, ere a moment's time had fled, Were through the mazy cavern led. Again the gracious lady spoke, And joy in every bosom woke: "Lo, here again is Vindhya's hill, Whose valleys trees and creepers fill; And, by the margin of the sea, Prasravan where you fain would be." With blessings then she bade adieu, And swift within the cave withdrew.

Along bright Lanka's royal road The giant, roused from slumber, strode, While from the houses on his head A rain of fragrant flowers was shed. He reached the monarch's gate whereon Rich gems and golden fretwork shone. Through court and corridor that shook Beneath his tread his way he took, And stood within the chamber where His brother sat in dark despair. But sudden, at the grateful sight The monarch's eye again grew bright. He started up, forgot his fear, And drew his giant brother near. The younger pressed the elder's feet And paid the King observance meet, Then cried: "O Monarch, speak thy will, And let my care thy word fulfil. What sudden terror and dismay Have burst the bonds in which I lay?"

By slow degrees the Vanars' lord Felt life and sense and strength restored. He heard the giants' joyful boast: He thought upon his Vanar host. His teeth and feet he fiercely plied, And bit and rent the giant's side, Who, mad with pain and smeared with gore, Hurled to the ground the load he bore. Regardless of a storm of blows Swift to the sky the Vanar rose, Then lightly like a flying ball High overleapt the city wall, And joyous for deliverance won Regained the side of Raghu's son. And Kumbhakarna, mad with hate And fury, sallied from the gate, The carnage of the foe renewed And filled his maw with gory food. Slaying, with headlong frenzy blind, Both Vanar foes and giant kind.

When the great sage had thus replied, To Rama Satananda cried: "A welcome visit, Prince, is thine, Thou scion of King Raghu's line. With him to guide thy way aright, This sage invincible in might, This Brahman sage, most glorious-bright, By long austerities has wrought A wondrous deed, exceeding thought: Thou knowest well, O strong of arm, This sure defence from scathe and harm. None, Rama, none is living now In all the earth more blest than thou, That thou hast won a saint so tried In fervid rites thy life to guide. Now listen, Prince, while I relate His lofty deeds and wondrous fate. He was a monarch pious-souled. His foemen in the dust he rolled; Most learned, prompt at duty's claim, His people's good his joy and aim.

"Such blessings as the Gods o'erjoyed Poured forth, when Vritra(300) was destroyed, On Indra of the thousand eyes, Attend, my child, thine enterprise! Yea, such as Vinata once gave To King Suparna(301) swift and brave, Who sought the drink that cheers the skies, Attend, my child, thine enterprise! Yea, such as, when the Amrit rose,(302) And Indra slew his Daitya foes, The royal Aditi bestowed On Him whose hand with slaughter glowed Of that dire brood of monstrous size, Attend, my child, thine enterprise! E'en such as peerless Vishnu graced, When with his triple step he paced, Outbursting from the dwarf's disguise,(303) Attend, my child, thine enterprise! Floods, isles, and seasons as they fly, Worlds, Vedas, quarters of the sky, Combine, O mighty-armed, to bless Thee destined heir of happiness!"

"Still to my father's word I hold, Whate'er he bought, or pledged, or sold: Ne'er shall his living promise be Annulled by Bharat or by me. Not thus my task will I evade, My exile on another laid: Most wise was Queen Kaikeyi's rede, And just and good my father's deed. Dear Bharat's patient soul I know, How reverence due he loves to show; In him, high-souled and faithful found, Must each auspicious grace abound. When from the woods I turn again I with his aid shall nobly reign, With one so good, of peerless worth, A glorious lord of happy earth. Her boon Kaikeyi sought and won. I, as my father swore, have done: And O, do thou, my brother dear, The monarch's name from falsehood clear.

Again Vibhishan made reply: "Nay, hear me, for he must not die. Hear the great law the wise declare: "Thy foeman's envoy thou shalt spare." 'Tis true he comes an open foe: 'Tis true his hands have wrought us woe, But law allows thee, if thou wilt, A punishment to suit the guilt. The mark of shame, the scourge, the brand, The shaven head, the wounded hand. Yea, were the Vanar envoy slain, Where, King of giants, were the gain? On them alone, on them who sent The message, be the punishment. For spake he well or spake he ill, He spake obedient to their will, And, if he perish, who can bear Thy challenge to the royal pair? Who, cross the ocean and incite Thy death-doomed enemies to fight?"

He spoke and vanished. Nala, best Of Vanar chiefs, the king addressed: "O'er the deep sea where monsters play A bridge, O Rama, will I lay; For, sharer of my father's skill, Mine is the power and mine the will. 'Tis vain to try each gentler art To bribe and soothe the thankless heart; In vain on such is mercy spent; It yields to naught but punishment. Through fear alone will Ocean now A passage o'er his waves allow. My mother, ere she bore her son, This boon from Visvakarma won: "O Mandari, thy child shall be In skill and glory next to me." But why unbidden should I fill Thine ear with praises of my skill? Command the Vanar hosts to lay Foundations for the bridge to-day."

The hundred girls, to wonder stirred, The wooing of the Wind-God heard, Laughed, as a jest, his suit aside, And with one voice they thus replied: "O mighty Wind, free spirit who All life pervadest, through and through, Thy wondrous power we maidens know; Then wherefore wilt thou mock us so? Our sire is Kusanabha, King; And we, forsooth, have charms to bring A God to woo us from the skies; But honour first we maidens prize. Far may the hour, we pray, be hence, When we, O thou of little sense, Our truthful father's choice refuse, And for ourselves our husbands choose. Our honoured sire our lord we deem, He is to us a God supreme, And they to whom his high decree May give us shall our husbands be."

The large-eyed lady left her bower Exulting in her pride of power, And with the hump-back sought the gloom And silence of the mourner's room. The string of priceless pearls that hung Around her neck to earth she flung, With all the wealth and lustre lent By precious gem and ornament. Then, listening to her slave's advice, Lay, like a nymph from Paradise. As on the ground her limbs she laid Once more she cried unto the maid: "Soon must thou to the monarch say Kaikeyi's soul has past away, Or, Rama banished as we planned, My son made king shall rule the land. No more for gold and gems I care, For brave attire or dainty fare. If Rama should the throne ascend, That very hour my life will end."

When Rama thus had made reply Kaikeyi's heart with joy beat high. She, trusting to the pledge she held, The youth's departure thus impelled: "'Tis well. Be messengers despatched On coursers ne'er for fleetness matched, To seek my father's home and lead My Bharat back with all their speed. And, Rama, as I ween that thou Wilt scarce endure to linger now, So surely it were wise and good This hour to journey to the wood. And if, with shame cast down and weak, No word to thee the king can speak, Forgive, and from thy mind dismiss A trifle in an hour like this. But till thy feet in rapid haste Have left the city for the waste, And to the distant forest fled, He will not bathe nor call for bread."

Thus Trisiras for death who yearned: And Khara from the conflict turned, "Go forth to battle," Khara cried; And toward his foe the giant hied. Borne on a car of glittering hue Which harnessed coursers fleetly drew, Like some huge hill with triple peak He onward rushed the prince to seek. Still, like a big cloud, sending out His arrowy rain with many a shout Like the deep sullen roars that come Discordant from a moistened drum. But Raghu's son, whose watchful eye Beheld the demon rushing nigh, From the great bow he raised and bent A shower of shafts to meet him sent. Wild grew the fight and wilder yet As fiend and man in combat met, As when in some dark wood's retreat An elephant and a lion meet.

Sugriva moved by wondering awe The high-souled sons of Raghu saw, In all their glorious arms arrayed; And grief upon his spirit weighed. To every quarter of the sky He turned in fear his anxious eye, And roving still from spot to spot With troubled steps he rested not. He durst not, as he viewed the pair, Resolve to stand and meet them there; And drooping cheer and quailing breast The terror of the chief confessed. While the great fear his bosom shook, Brief counsel with his lords he took; Each gain and danger closely scanned, What hope in flight, what power to stand, While doubt and fear his bosom rent, On Raghu's sons his eyes he bent, And with a spirit ill at ease Addressed his lords in words like these:

The giants heard their monarch's speech; And, filled with burning fury, each Brought strips of cotton cloth, and round The monkey's tail the bandage wound. As round his tail the bands they drew His mighty form dilating grew Vast as the flame that bursts on high Where trees are old and grass is dry. Each band and strip they soaked in oil, And set on fire the twisted coil. Delighted as they viewed the blaze, The cruel demons stood at gaze: And mid loud drums and shells rang out The triumph of their joyful shout. They pressed about him thick and fast As through the crowded streets he passed, Observing with attentive care Each rich and wondrous structure there, Still heedless of the eager cry That rent the air, The spy! the spy!

"Behold a mighty task achieved, Which never heart but his conceived. Who else across the sea can spring, Save Vayu(896) and the Feathered King?(897) Who, pass the portals strong and high Which Nagas,(898) Gods, and fiends defy, Where Ravan's hosts their station keep,-- And come uninjured o'er the deep? By such a deed the Wind-God's son Good service to the king has done, And saved from ruin and disgrace Lakshman and me and Raghu's race. Well has he planned and bravely fought, And with due care my lady sought. But of the sea I sadly think, And the sweet hopes that cheered me sink. How can we cross the leagues of foam That keep us from the giant's home? What can the Vanar legions more Than muster on the ocean shore?"

"Slain by mine arrows Rama lies, And closed in death are Lakshman's eyes. Dead are the mighty princes who Dushan and Khara smote and slew. The Gods and fiends may toil in vain To free them from the binding chain. The haughty chief, my father's dread, Who drove him sleepless from his bed, While Lanka, troubled like a brook In rain time, heard his name and shook: He whose fierce hate our lives pursued Lies helpless by my shafts subdued. Now fruitless is each wondrous deed Wrought by the race the forests breed, And fruitless every toil at last Like cloudlets when the rains are past." Then rose the shout of giants loud As thunder from a bursting cloud, When, deeming Rama, dead, they raised Their voices and the conqueror praised.

The lion-lord of men, the best Of splendid heroes, thus addressed, To Sita spake with joyful cheer: "The king and queen, my lady dear, Touching the throning, for my sake Some salutary counsel take. The lady of the full black eye Would fain her husband gratify, And, all his purpose understood, Counsels the monarch to my good. A happy fate is mine, I ween, When he, consulting with his queen, Sumantra on this charge, intent Upon my gain and good, has sent. An envoy of so noble sort Well suits the splendour of the court. The consecration rite this day Will join me in imperial sway. To meet the lord of earth, for so His order bids me, I will go. Thou, lady, here in comfort stay, And with thy maidens rest or play."

The Brahman heard. In eager haste He bound his cloth around his waist. Then round his head his staff he whirled, And forth with mightiest effort hurled. Cast from his hand it flew, and sank To earth on Sarju's farther bank, Where herds of kine in thousands fed Near to the well-stocked bullock shed. And all the cows that wandered o'er The meadow, far as Sarju's shore, At Rama's word the herdsmen drove To Trijat's cottage in the grove. He drew the Brahman to his breast, And thus with calming words addressed: "Now be not angry, Sire. I pray: This jest of mine was meant in play. These thousand kine, but not alone. Their herdsmen too, are all thine own. And wealth beside I give thee: speak, Thine shall be all thy heart can seek."

He spoke, and reverent Lakshman heard Submissive to his brother's word. The son of Raghu, virtuous-souled, Strung his great bow adorned with gold, And, with the weapon in his hand, Addressed him to the giant band: "Rama and Lakshman we, who spring From Dasaratha, mighty king; We dwell a while with Sita here In Dandak forest wild and drear. On woodland roots and fruit we feed, And lives of strictest rule we lead. Say why would ye our lives oppress Who sojourn in the wilderness. Sent hither by the hermits' prayer With bow and darts unused to spare, For vengeance am I come to slay Your sinful band in battle fray. Rest as ye are: remain content, Nor try the battle's dire event. Unless your offered lives ye spurn, O rovers of the night, return."

Again she spake: "I know thee now, Brave, resolute, and strong art thou; In glory like the Lord of Fire With storm-swift feet which naught may tire But yet with thee I may not fly: For, borne so swiftly through the sky, Mine eyes would soon grow faint and dim, My dizzy brain would reel and swim, My yielding arms relax their hold, And I in terror uncontrolled Should fall into the raging sea Where hungry sharks would feed on me. Nor can I touch, of free accord, The limbs of any save my lord. If, by the giant forced away, In his enfolding arms I lay, Not mine, O Vanar, was the blame; What could I do, a helpless dame? Go, to my lord my message bear, And bid him end my long despair."

The mighty hermit's tale was o'er, He closed his lips and spoke no more. The holy men on every side, "Well done! well done," with reverence cried; "The mighty men of Kusa's seed Were ever famed for righteous deed. Like Brahma's self in glory shine The high-souled lords of Kusa's line, And thy great name is sounded most, O Saint, amid the noble host. And thy dear sister--fairest she Of streams, the high-born Kausiki-- Diffusing virtue where she flows, New splendour on thy lineage throws." Thus by the chief of saints addressed The son of Gadhi turned to rest; So, when his daily course is done, Sinks to his rest the beaming sun. Rama with Lakshman, somewhat stirred To marvel by the tales they heard, Turned also to his couch, to close His eyelids in desired repose.

Then, host to host, we met the foes, And fierce the din of battle rose, Sudhanva, foremost of his band, Fell smitten by my single hand. When thus Sankasya's lord was slain, I sanctified, as laws ordain, My brother in his stead to reign, Thus are we brothers, Saint most high The younger he, the elder I. Now, mighty Sage, my spirit joys To give these maidens to the boys. Let Sita be to Rama tied. And Urmila be Lakshman's bride. First give, O King, the gift of cows, As dowry of each royal spouse, Due offerings to the spirits pay, And solemnize the wedding-day. The moon tonight, O royal Sage, In Magha's(252) House takes harbourage; On the third night his rays benign In second Phalguni(253) will shine: Be that the day, with prosperous fate, The nuptial rites to celebrate."

But Tara in the Vanar's hall Heard tidings of her husband's fall; Heard that a shaft from Rama's bow Had laid the royal Bali low. Her darling Angad by her side, Distracted from her home she hied. Then nigh the place of battle drew The Vanars, Angad's retinue. They saw the bow-armed Rama: dread Fell on them, and they turned and fled. Like helpless deer, their leaders slain, So wildly fled the startled train. But Tara saw, and nearer pressed, And thus the flying band addressed: "O Vanars, ye who ever stand About our king, a trusty band, Where is the lion master? why Forsake ye thus your lord and fly? Say, lies he dead upon the plain, A brother by a brother slain, Or pierced by shafts from Rama's bow That rain from far upon the foe?"

Still, like a winged mountain, he Sprang forward through the airy sea,(888) And rushing through the ether drew The clouds to follow as he flew, Through the great host around him spread, Grey, golden, dark, and white, and red. Now in a sable cloud immersed, Now from its gloomy pall he burst, Like the bright Lord of Stars concealed A moment, and again revealed. Sunabha(889) passed, he neared the coast Where waited still the Vanar host. They heard a rushing in the skies, And lifted up their wondering eyes. His wild triumphant shout they knew That louder still and louder grew, And Jambavan with eager voice Called on the Vanars to rejoice: "Look he returns, the Wind-God's son, And full success his toils have won; Triumphant is the shout that comes Like music of a thousand drums."