Ramayana on Pride

From town and country, far and near, He summoned people, prince, and peer. To each he gave a meet abode, And honoured all and gifts bestowed. Then, splendid in his king's attire, He viewed them, as the general Sire, In glory of a God arrayed, Looks on the creatures he has made. But Kekaya's king he called not then For haste, nor Janak, lord of men; For after to each royal friend The joyful tidings he would send. Mid crowds from distant countries met The king upon his throne was set; Then honoured by the people, all The rulers thronged into the hall. On thrones assigned, each king in place Looked silent on the monarch's face. Then girt by lords of high renown And throngs from hamlet and from town He showed in regal pride, As, honoured by the radiant band Of blessed Gods that round him stand, Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed.

From Rishyamuka's rugged side To Malaya's hill the Vanar hied, And to his royal chieftain there Announced the coming of the pair: "See, here with Lakshman Rama stands Illustrious in a hundred lands. Whose valiant heart will never quail Although a thousand foes assail; King Dasaratha's son, the grace And glory of Ikshvaku's race. Obedient to his father's will He cleaves to sacred duty still. With rites of royal pomp and pride His sire the Fire-God gratified; Ten hundred thousand kine he freed, And priests enriched with ample meed; And the broad land protected, famed For truthful lips and passions tamed. Through woman's guile his son has made His dwelling in the forest shade, Where, as he lived with every sense Subdued in hermit abstinence, Fierce Ravan stole his wife, and he Is come a suppliant, lord, to thee. Now let all honour due be paid To these great chiefs who seek thine aid."

"Whate'er a friend most wise and true, Who counsels for the best, should do, Whate'er his gentle part should be, Has been performed, dear friend, by thee. Taught by thy counsel, O my lord, I feel my native strength restored. A friend like thee is hard to gain, Most rare in time of grief and pain. Now strain thine utmost power to trace The Maithil lady's dwelling place, And aid me in my search to find Fierce Ravan of the impious mind. Trust thou, in turn, thy loyal friend, And say what aid this arm can lend To speed thy hopes, as fostering rain Quickens in earth the scattered grain. Deem not those words, that seemed to spring From pride, are false, O Vanar King. None from these lips has ever heard, None e'er shall hear, one lying word. Again I promise and declare, Yea, by my truth, dear friend, I swear."

Then passed the weary night, and all Assembled at their prince's call, And every lord of high estate Was gathered round him for debate. Bright was the chieftains' glorious band Round Angad on the ocean strand, As when the mighty Storm-Gods meet Round Indra on his golden seat. Then princely Angad looked on each, And thus began his prudent speech: "What chief of all our host will leap A hundred leagues across the deep? Who, O illustrious Vanars, who Will make Sugriva's promise true, And from our weight of fear set free The leaders of our band and me? To whom, O warriors, shall we owe A sweet release from pain and woe, And proud success, and happy lives With our dear children and our wives, Again permitted by his grace To look with joy on Rama's face, And noble Lakshman, and our lord The king, to our sweet homes restored?"

"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."

When Rama and the host he led Across the sea had safely sped, Thus Ravan, moved by wrath and pride, To Suka and to Saran cried: "O counsellors, the Vanar host Has passed the sea from coast to coast, And Dasaratha's son has wrought A wondrous deed surpassing thought. And now in truth I needs must know The strength and number of the foe. Go ye, to Rama's host repair And count me all the legions there. Learn well what power each captain leads His name and fame for warlike deeds. Learn by what artist's wondrous aid That bridge athwart the sea was made; Learn how the Vanar host came o'er And halted on the island shore. Mark Rama son of Raghu well; His valour, strength, and weapons tell. Watch his advisers one by one, And Lakshman, Raghu's younger son. Learn with observant eyes, and bring "Unerring tidings to your king.

Pierced to the soul by sorrow's sting Thus wailed the evil-hearted king. Then Trisiras stood forth and cried: "Yea, father, he has fought and died, Our bravest: and the loss is sore: But rouse thee, and lament no more. Hast thou not still thy coat of mail, Thy bow and shafts which never fail? A thousand asses draw thy car Which roars like thunder heard afar. Thy valour and thy warrior skill, Thy God-given strength, are left thee still. Unarmed, thy matchless might subdued The Gods and Danav multitude. Armed with thy glorious weapons, how Shall Raghu's son oppose thee now? Or, sire, within thy palace stay; And I myself will sweep away Thy foes, like Garud when he makes A banquet of the writhing snakes. Soon Raghu's son shall press the plain, As Narak(984) fell by Vishnu slain, Or Sambar(985) in rebellious pride Who met the King of Gods(986) and died."

Then to his deadly string the pride Of Raghu's race a shaft applied. Sharp as a serpent's venomed fang Straight to its mark the arrow sprang, And from the giant's body shred With trenchant steel the monstrous head. There might the triple world behold That severed head adorned with gold. But when all eyes were bent to view, Swift in its stead another grew. Again the shaft was pointed well: Again the head divided fell; But still as each to earth was cast Another head succeeded fast. A hundred, bright with fiery flame, Fell low before the victor's aim, Yet Ravan by no sign betrayed That death was near or strength decayed. The doubtful fight he still maintained, And on the foe his missiles rained. In air, on earth, on plain, on hill, With awful might he battled still; And through the hours of night and day The conflict knew no pause or stay.

Thus in loud tones the king exclaimed, And mute stood Malyavan ashamed, His reverend head he humbly bent, And slowly to his mansion went. But Ravan stayed, and deep in care Held counsel with his nobles there, All entrance to secure and close, And guard the city from their foes. He bade the chief Prahasta wait, Commander at the eastern gate, To fierce Mahodar, strong and brave, To keep the southern gate, he gave, Where Mahaparsva's might should aid The chieftain with his hosts arrayed. To guard the west--no chief more fit-- He placed the warrior Indrajit, His son, the giant's joy and boast, Surrounded by a Rakshas host: And mighty Saran hastened forth With Suka to protect the north.(945) "I will myself," the monarch cried, "Be present on the northern side." These orders for the walls' defence The tyrant gave, then parted thence, And, by the hope of victory fired, To chambers far within, retired.

So fared he forth. That host, with speed, Quadruple, as the king decreed, With priests to head the bright array, Followed the monarch on his way. Four days they travelled on the road, And eve Videha's kingdom showed. Janak had left his royal seat The venerable king to greet, And, noblest, with these words addressed That noblest lord, his happy guest: "Hail, best of kings: a blessed fate Has led thee, Monarch, to my state. Thy sons, supreme in high emprise, Will gladden now their father's eyes. And high my fate, that hither leads Vasishtha, bright with holy deeds, Girt with these sages far-renowned, Like Indra with the Gods around. Joy! joy! for vanquished are my foes: Joy! for my house in glory grows, With Raghu's noblest sons allied, Supreme in strength and valour's pride. To-morrow with its early light Will shine on my completed rite. Then, sanctioned by the saints and thee, The marriage of thy Rama see."

He spoke, and hurled the mass he held: The giant's chest the stroke repelled, Then on the Vanars fell despair, And Rakshas clamour filled the air. The giant raised his arm, and fast Came the tremendous(980) spear he cast. Hanuman caught it as it flew, And knapped it on his knee in two. The giant saw the broken spear: His clouded eye confessed his fear; Yet at Sugriva's head he sent A peak from Lanka's mountain rent. The rushing mass no might could stay: Sugriva fell and senseless lay. The giant stooped his foe to seize, And bore him thence, as bears the breeze A cloud in autumn through the sky. He heard the sad Immortals sigh, And shouts of triumph long and loud Went up from all the Rakshas crowd. Through Lanka's gate the giant passed Holding his struggling captive fast, While from each terrace, house, and tower Fell on his haughty head a shower Of fragrant scent and flowery rain, Blossoms and leaves and scattered grain.(981)

Then glorious Kasyap thus replied To Diti, as she wept and sighed: "Thy prayer is heard, dear saint! Remain Pure from all spot, and thou shalt gain A son whose arm shall take the life Of Indra in the battle strife. For full a thousand years endure Free from all stain, supremely pure; Then shall thy son and mine appear, Whom the three worlds shall serve with fear." These words the glorious Kasyap said, Then gently stroked his consort's head, Blessed her, and bade a kind adieu, And turned him to his rites anew. Soon as her lord had left her side, Her bosom swelled with joy and pride. She sought the shade of holy boughs, And there began her awful vows. While yet she wrought her rites austere, Indra, unbidden, hastened near, With sweet observance tending her, A reverential minister. Wood, water, fire, and grass he brought, Sweet roots and woodland fruit he sought, And all her wants, the Thousand-eyed, With never-failing care, supplied, With tender love and soft caress Removing pain and weariness.

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

Cheered by the grace the Immortals showed The chieftain on the chariot rode. Then as the car-borne warriors met The awful fight raged fiercer yet. Each shaft that Ravan shot became A serpent red with kindled flame, And round the limbs of Rama hung With fiery jaws and quivering tongue. But every serpent fled dismayed When Raghu's valiant son displayed The weapon of the Feathered King,(998) And loosed his arrows from the string. But Ravan armed his bow anew, And showers of shafts at Rama flew, While the fierce king in swift career Smote with a dart the charioteer. An arrow shot by Ravan's hand Laid the proud banner on the sand, And Indra's steeds of heavenly strain Fell by the iron tempest slain. On Gods and spirits of the air Fell terror, trembling, and despair. The sea's white billows mounted high With froth and foam to drench the sky. The sun by lurid clouds was veiled, The friendly lights of heaven were paled; And, fiercely gleaming, fiery Mars Opposed the beams of gentler stars.

Thus to his mother wild with grief: Then thus to Lakshman spake the chief Of those by whom the bow is bent, Mid all who speak, most eloquent: "I know what love for me thou hast, What firm devotion unsurpassed: Thy valour and thy worth I know, And glory that appals the foe. Blest youth, my mother's woe is great, It bends her 'neath its matchless weight: No claims will she, with blinded eyes, Of truth and patience recognize. For duty is supreme in place, And truth is duty's noblest base. Obedient to my sire's behest I serve the cause of duty best. For man should truly do whate'er To mother, Brahman, sire, he sware: He must in duty's path remain, Nor let his word be pledged in vain. And, O my brother, how can I Obedience to this charge deny? Kaikeyi's tongue my purpose spurred, But 'twas my sire who gave the word. Cast these unholy thoughts aside Which smack of war and Warriors' pride; To duty's call, not wrath attend, And tread the path which I commend."

The hero ceased: and Lakshman led Obedient to the words he said: And Sita followed him, and then Came Raghu's pride, the lord of men. With Sita walking o'er the sand They sought the forest, bow in hand, But still their lingering glances threw Where yet Sumantra stood in view. Sumantra, when his watchful eye The royal youths no more could spy, Turned from the spot whereon he stood Homeward with Guha from the wood. Still on the brothers forced their way Where sweet birds sang on every spray, Though scarce the eye a path could find Mid flowering trees where creepers twined. Far on the princely brothers pressed, And stayed their feet at length to rest Beneath a fig tree's mighty shade With countless pendent shoots displayed. Reclining there a while at ease, They saw, not far, beneath fair trees A lake with many a lotus bright That bore the name of Lovely Sight. Rama his wife's attention drew, And Lakshman's, to the charming view: "Look, brother, look how fair the flood Glows with the lotus, flower and bud!"

"In vain the softer gifts that grace The good are offered to the base. Long-suffering, patience, gentle speech Their thankless hearts can never reach. The world to him its honour pays Whose ready tongue himself can praise, Who scorns the true, and hates the right, Whose hand is ever raised to smite. Each milder art is tried in vain: It wins no glory, but disdain. And victory owns no softer charm Than might which nerves a warrior's arm. My humble suit is still denied By Ocean's overweening pride. This day the monsters of the deep In throes of death shall wildly leap. My shafts shall rend the serpents curled In caverns of the watery world, Disclose each sunless depth and bare The tangled pearl and coral there. Away with mercy! at a time Like this compassion is a crime. Welcome, the battle and the foe! My bow! my arrows and my bow! This day the Vanars' feet shall tread The conquered Sea's exhausted bed, And he who never feared before Shall tremble to his farthest shore."

Thus spoke the prince of boundless might, And thus replied the anchorite: "Chief of the mighty arm, of yore Lord Vishnu whom the Gods adore, For holy thought and rites austere Of penance made his dwelling here. This ancient wood was called of old Grove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled, And when perfection he attained The grove the name of Perfect gained. Bali of yore, Virochan's son, Dominion over Indra won, And when with power his proud heart swelled, O'er the three worlds his empire held. When Bali then began a rite, The Gods and Indra in affright Sought Vishnu in this place of rest, And thus with prayers the God addressed: "Bali. Virochan's mighty son, His sacrifice has now begun: Of boundless wealth, that demon king Is bounteous to each living thing. Though suppliants flock from every side The suit of none is e'er denied. Whate'er, where'er howe'er the call, He hears the suit and gives to all. Now with thine own illusive art Perform, O Lord, the helper's part: Assume a dwarfish form, and thus From fear and danger rescue us."(167)

It chanced that Jahnu, great and good, Engaged with holy offerings stood; The river spread her waves around Flooding his sacrificial ground. The saint in anger marked her pride, And at one draught her stream he dried. Then God, and sage, and bard, afraid, To noble high-souled Jahnu prayed, And begged that he would kindly deem His own dear child that holy stream. Moved by their suit, he soothed their fears And loosed her waters from his ears. Hence Ganga through the world is styled Both Jahnavi and Jahnu's child. Then onward still she followed fast, And reached the great sea bank at last. Thence deep below her way she made To end those rites so long delayed. The monarch reached the Ocean's side, And still behind him Ganga hied. He sought the depths which open lay Where Sagar's sons had dug their way. So leading through earth's nether caves The river's purifying waves, Over his kinsmen's dust the lord His funeral libation poured. Soon as the flood their dust bedewed, Their spirits gained beatitude, And all in heavenly bodies dressed Rose to the skies' eternal rest.

"Nay, through thy might each queen will share Attentive Bharat's love and care, Should Bharat, raised as king to sway This noblest realm, his trust betray, Nor for their safety well provide, Seduced by ill-suggesting pride, Doubt not my vengeful hand shall kill The cruel wretch who counsels ill-- Kill him and all who lend him aid, And the three worlds in league arrayed. And good Kausalya well can fee A thousand champions like to me. A thousand hamlets rich in grain The station of that queen maintain. She may, and my dear mother too, Live on the ample revenue. Then let me follow thee: herein: Is naught that may resemble sin. So shall I in my wish succeed, And aid, perhaps, my brother's need. My bow and quiver well supplied With arrows hanging at my side, My hands shall spade and basket bear, And for thy feet the way prepare. I'll bring thee roots and berries sweet. And woodland fare which hermits eat. Thou shall with thy Videhan spouse Recline upon the mountain's brows; Be mine the toil, be mine to keep Watch o'er thee waking or asleep."

Then Bharat rose at early morn, And in his noble chariot borne Drove forward at a rapid pace Eager to look on Rama's face. The priests and lords, a fair array, In sun-bright chariots led the way. Behind, a well appointed throng, Nine thousand elephants streamed along. Then sixty thousand cars, and then, With various arms, came fighting men. A hundred thousand archers showed In lengthened line the steeds they rode-- A mighty host, the march to grace Of Bharat, pride of Raghu's race. Kaikeyi and Sumitra came, And good Kausalya, dear to fame: By hopes of Rama's coming cheered They in a radiant car appeared. On fared the noble host to see Rama and Lakshman, wild with glee, And still each other's ear to please, Of Rama spoke in words like these: "When shall our happy eyes behold Our hero true, and pure, and bold, So lustrous dark, so strong of arm, Who keeps the world from woe and harm? The tears that now our eyeballs dim Will vanish at the sight of him, As the whole world's black shadows fly When the bright sun ascends the sky."

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

The shades of falling night concealed The carnage of the battle field, Which, bearing each a blazing brand, Hanuman and Vibhishan scanned, Moving with slow and anxious tread Among the dying and the dead. Sad was the scene of slaughter shown Where'er the torches' light was thrown. Here mountain forms of Vanars lay Whose heads and limbs were lopped away, Arms, legs and fingers strewed the ground, And severed heads lay thick around. The earth was moist with sanguine streams, And sighs were heard and groans and screams. There lay Sugriva still and cold, There Angad, once so brave and bold. There Jambavan his might reposed, There Vegadarsi's eyes were closed; There in the dust was Nala's pride, And Dwivid lay by Mainda's side. Where'er they looked the ensanguined plain Was strewn with myriads of the slain;(990) They sought with keenly searching eyes King Jambavan supremely wise. His strength had failed by slow decay, And pierced with countless shafts he lay. They saw, and hastened to his side, And thus the sage Vibhishan cried: "Thee, monarch of the bears, we seek: Speak if thou yet art living, speak."

Nor did the saint their rede reject: He bade farewell with due respect, And crossed, attended by the twain, That river rushing to the main. When now the bark was half way o'er, Rama and Lakshman heard the roar, That louder grew and louder yet, Of waves by dashing waters met. Then Rama asked the mighty seer: "What is the tumult that I hear Of waters cleft in mid career?" Soon as the speech of Rama, stirred By deep desire to know, he heard, The pious saint began to tell What paused the waters' roar and swell: "On high Kailasa's distant hill There lies a noble lake Whose waters, born from Brahma's will, The name of Manas(158) take. Thence, hallowing where'er they flow, The streams of Sarju fall, And wandering through the plains below Embrace Ayodhya's wall. Still, still preserved in Sarju's name Sarovar's(159) fame we trace. The flood of Brahma whence she came To run her holy race. To meet great Ganga here she hies With tributary wave: Hence the loud roar ye hear arise, Of floods that swell and rave. Here, pride of Raghu's line, do thou In humble adoration bow."

Urged by the lord of men to speak, Whose sobbing voice came faint and weak, Thus he, while tears his utterance broke, In answer to the monarch spoke: "Hear then the words that Rama said, Resolved in duty's path to tread. Joining his hands, his head he bent, And gave this message, reverent: "Sumantra, to my father go, Whose lofty mind all people know: Bow down before him, as is meet, And in my stead salute his feet. Then to the queen my mother bend, And give the greeting that I send: Ne'er may her steps from duty err, And may it still be well with her. And add this word: "O Queen, pursue Thy vows with faithful heart and true; And ever at due season turn Where holy fires of worship burn. And, lady, on our lord bestow Such honour as to Gods we owe. Be kind to every queen: let pride And thought of self be cast aside. In the king's fond opinion raise Kaikeyi, by respect and praise. Let the young Bharat ever be Loved, honoured as the king by thee: Thy king-ward duty ne'er forget: High over all are monarchs set."

Obedient to the high request By Bharadvaja thus addressed, His reverent hands together laid, He, skilled in speech, his answer made: "She whom, O Saint, thou seest here A Goddess in her form appear, Was the chief consort of the king, Now worn with fast and sorrowing. As Aditi in days of yore The all-preserving Vishnu bore, Kausalya bore with happy fate Lord Rama of the lion's gait. She who, transfixed with torturing pangs, On her left arm so fondly hangs, As when her withering leaves decay Droops by the wood the Cassia spray, Sumitra, pained with woe, is she, The consort second of the three: Two princely sons the lady bare, Fair as the Gods in heaven are fair. And she, the wicked dame through whom My brothers' lives are wrapped in gloom, And mourning for his offspring dear, The king has sought his heavenly sphere,-- Proud, foolish-hearted, swift to ire, Self-fancied darling of my sire, Kaikeyi, most ambitious queen, Unlovely with her lovely mien, My mother she, whose impious will Is ever bent on deeds of ill, In whom the root and spring I see Of all this woe which crushes me."

With serpent's pantings fierce and fast King Bali from the city passed. His glance, as each quick breath he drew, Around to find the foe he threw, And saw where fierce Sugriva showed His form with golden hues that glowed, And, as a fire resplendent, stayed To meet his foe in arms arrayed. When Bali, long-armed chieftain, found Sugriva stationed on the ground, Impelled by warlike rage he braced His warrior garb about his waist, And with his mighty arm raised high Rushed at Sugriva with a cry. But when Sugriva, fierce and bold, Saw Bali with his chain of gold, His arm he heaved, his hand he closed, And face to face his foe opposed. To him whose eyes with fury shone, In charge impetuous rushing on, Skilled in each warlike art and plan, Bali with hasty words began: "My ponderous hand, to fight addressed With fingers clenched and arm compressed Shall on thy death doomed brow descend And, crashing down, thy life shall end." He spoke; and wild with rage and pride, The fierce Sugriva thus replied: "Thus let my arm begin the strife And from thy body crush the life."

Like some proud tree before the blast Brave Bali to the ground was cast, Where prostrate in the dust he rolled Clad in the sheen of glistening gold, As when uptorn the standard lies Of the great God who rules the skies. When low upon the earth was laid The lord whom Vanar tribes obeyed, Dark as a moonless sky no more His land her joyous aspect wore. Though low in dust and mire was rolled The form of Bali lofty-souled, Still life and valour, might and grace Clung to their well-loved dwelling-place. That golden chain with rich gems set, The choicest gift of Sakra,(585) yet Preserved his life nor let decay Steal strength and beauty's light away. Still from that chain divinely wrought His dusky form a glory caught, As a dark cloud, when day is done, Made splendid by the dying sun. As fell the hero, crushed in fight, There beamed afar a triple light From limbs, from chain, from shaft that drank His life-blood as the warrior sank. The never-failing shaft, impelled By the great bow which Rama held, Brought bliss supreme, and lit the way To Brahma's worlds which ne'er decay.(586)

Then Tara: "Art thou stern and mute, Regardless of thy child's salute? Hast thou no blessing for thy son, No word for little Angad, none? O, hero, at thy lifeless feet Here with my boy I take my seat, As some sad mother of the herd, By the fierce lion undeterred, Lies moaning by the grassy dell Wherein her lord and leader fell. How, having wrought that awful rite, The sacrifice of deadly fight, Wherein the shaft by Rama sped Supplied the place of water shed, How hast thou bathed thee at the end Without thy wife her aid to lend?(609) Why do mine eyes no more behold Thy bright beloved chain of gold, Which, pleased with thee, the Immortals' King About thy neck vouchsafed to fling? Still lingering on thy lifeless face I see the pride of royal race: Thus when the sun has set, his glow Still rests upon the Lord of Snow. Alas my hero! undeterred Thou wouldst not listen to my word. With tears and prayers I sued in vain: Thou wouldst not listen, and art slain. Gone is my bliss, my glory: I And Angad now with thee will die."

Then o'er the lady's soul and frame A sudden fear and trembling came, When, glowing in his youthful pride, She saw the monarch by her side. Silent she sat, her eyes depressed, Her soft arms folded o'er her breast, And,--all she could,--her beauties screened From the bold gazes of the fiend. There where the wild she-demons kept Their watch around, she sighed and wept. Then, like a severed bough, she lay Prone on the bare earth in dismay. The while her thoughts on love's fleet wings Flew to her lord the best of kings. She fell upon the ground, and there Lay struggling with her wild despair, Sad as a lady born again To misery and woe and pain, Now doomed to grief and low estate, Once noble fair and delicate: Like faded light of holy lore, Like Hope when all her dreams are o'er; Like ruined power and rank debased, Like majesty of kings disgraced: Like worship foiled by erring slips, The moon that labours in eclipse; A pool with all her lilies dead, An army when its king has fled: So sad and helpless wan and worn, She lay among the fiends forlorn.

These words the Gods in answer said, And vanished thence by Indra led. Thus to the Lord, the worlds who made, The Immortals all assembled prayed: "O Brahma, mighty by thy grace, Ravan, who rules the giant race, Torments us in his senseless pride, And penance-loving saints beside. For thou well pleased in days of old Gavest the boon that makes him bold, That God nor demon e'er should kill His charmed life, for so thy will. We, honouring that high behest, Bear all his rage though sore distressed. That lord of giants fierce and fell Scourges the earth and heaven and hell. Mad with thy boon, his impious rage Smites saint and bard and God and sage. The sun himself withholds his glow, The wind in fear forbears to blow; The fire restrains his wonted heat Where stand the dreaded Ravan's feet, And, necklaced with the wandering wave, The sea before him fears to rave. Kuvera's self in sad defeat Is driven from his blissful seat. We see, we feel the giant's might, And woe comes o'er us and affright. To thee, O Lord, thy suppliants pray To find some cure this plague to stay."

He cleared the barrier at a bound; He stood within the pleasant ground, And with delighted eyes surveyed The climbing plants and varied shade, He saw unnumbered trees unfold The treasures of their pendent gold, As, searching for the Maithil queen, He strayed through alleys soft and green; And when a spray he bent or broke Some little bird that slept awoke. Whene'er the breeze of morning blew, Where'er a startled peacock flew, The gaily coloured branches shed Their flowery rain upon his head That clung around the Vanar till He seemed a blossom-covered hill,(822) The earth, on whose fair bosom lay The flowers that fell from every spray, Was glorious as a lovely maid In all her brightest robes arrayed, He saw the breath of morning shake The lilies on the rippling lake Whose waves a pleasant lapping made On crystal steps with gems inlaid. Then roaming through the enchanted ground, A pleasant hill the Vanar found, And grottoes in the living stone With grass and flowery trees o'ergrown. Through rocks and boughs a brawling rill Leapt from the bosom of the hill, Like a proud beauty when she flies From her love's arms with angry eyes.

"By thy dear grace in sorest need From deadly bonds we both are freed. To these glad eyes as welcome now As Aja(960) or my sire art thou. Who art thou, mighty being? say, Thus glorious in thy bright array." He ceased: the king of birds replied, While flashed his eye with joy and pride: "In me, O Raghu's son, behold One who has loved thee from of old: Garud, the lord of all that fly, Thy guardian and thy friend am I. Not all the Gods in heaven could loose These numbing bonds, this serpent noose, Wherewith fierce Ravan's son, renowned For magic arts, your limbs had bound. Those arrows fixed in every limb Were mighty snakes, transformed by him. Blood thirsty race, they live beneath The earth, and slay with venomed teeth. On, smite the lord of Lanka's isle, But guard you from the giants' guile Who each dishonest art employ And by deceit brave foes destroy. So shall the tyrant Ravan bleed, And Sita from his power be freed." Thus Garud spake: then, swift as thought, The region of the sky he sought, Where in the distance like a blaze Of fire he vanished from the gaze.

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?"

Thus by the gathered Gods addressed He pondered in his secret breast, And said: "One only way I find To slay this fiend of evil mind. He prayed me once his life to guard From demon, God, and heavenly bard, And spirits of the earth and air, And I consenting heard his prayer. But the proud giant in his scorn Recked not of man of woman born. None else may take his life away, But only man the fiend may slay." The Gods, with Indra at their head, Rejoiced to hear the words he said. Then crowned with glory like a flame, Lord Vishnu to the council came; His hands shell, mace, and discus bore, And saffron were the robes he wore. Riding his eagle through the crowd, As the sun rides upon a cloud, With bracelets of fine gold, he came Loud welcomed by the Gods' acclaim. His praise they sang with one consent, And cried, in lowly reverence bent: "O Lord whose hand fierce Madhu(106) slew, Be thou our refuge, firm and true; Friend of the suffering worlds art thou, We pray thee help thy suppliants now." Then Vishnu spake: "Ye Gods, declare, What may I do to grant your prayer?"

It stretched a hundred leagues and made For hermit bands a welcome shade. Thither the feathered king of yore An elephant and tortoise bore, And lighted on a bough to eat The captives of his taloned feet. The bough unable to sustain The crushing weight and sudden strain, Loaded with sprays and leaves of spring Gave way beneath the feathered king. Under the shadow of the tree Dwelt many a saint and devotee, Ajas, the sons of Brahma's line, Mashas, Marichipas divine. Vaikhanasas, and all the race Of Balakhilyas, loved the place. But pitying their sad estate The feathered monarch raised the weight Of the huge bough, and bore away The loosened load and captured prey. A hundred leagues away he sped, Then on his monstrous booty fed, And with the bough he smote the lands Where dwell the wild Nishada bands. High joy was his because his deed From jeopardy the hermits freed. That pride for great deliverance wrought A double share of valour brought. His soul conceived the high emprise To snatch the Amrit from the skies. He rent the nets of iron first, Then through the jewel chamber burst, And bore the drink of heaven away That watched in Indra's palace lay.

"They come, they come. A rushing tide, Ten leagues they spread from side to side, And on to storm thy city press, Fierce rovers of the wilderness. Rich in each princely power and grace, The pride of Dasaratha's race, Rama and Lakshman lead their bands, And halt them on the ocean sands. O Monarch, rise, this peril meet; Risk not the danger of defeat. First let each wiser art be tried; Bribe them, or win them, or divide." Such was the counsel of the spy: And Ravan called to Suka: "Fly, Sugriva lord of Vanars seek, And thus my kingly message speak: "Great power and might and fame are thine, Brave scion of a royal line, King Riksharajas' son, in thee A brother and a friend I see. How wronged by me canst thou complain? What profit here pretend to gain? If from the wood the wife I stole Of Rama of the prudent soul, What cause hast thou to mourn the theft? Thou art not injured or bereft. Return, O King, thy steps retrace And seek thy mountain dwelling-place. No, never may thy hosts within My Lanka's walls a footing win. A mighty town whose strength defies The gathered armies of the skies."

Thus Rama showed to Janak's child The varied beauties of the wild, The hill, the brook and each fair spot, Then turned to seek their leafy cot. North of the mountain Rama found A cavern in the sloping ground, Charming to view, its floor was strown With many a mass of ore and stone, In secret shadow far retired Where gay birds sang with joy inspired, And trees their graceful branches swayed With loads of blossom downward weighed. Soon as he saw the cave which took Each living heart and chained the look, Thus Rama spoke to Sita who Gazed wondering on the silvan view: "Does this fair cave beneath the height, Videhan lady, charm thy sight? Then let us resting here a while The languor of the way beguile. That block of stone so smooth and square Was set for thee to rest on there, And like a thriving Kesar tree This flowery shrub o'ershadows thee." Thus Rama spoke, and Janak's child, By nature ever soft and mild, In tender words which love betrayed Her answer to the hero made: "O pride of Raghu's children, still My pleasure is to do thy will. Enough for me thy wish to know: Far hast thou wandered to and fro."

She, peerless in her form and face And rich in every gentle grace, Is worthy bride, O King, for thee, As thou art meet her lord to be. I even I, will bring the bride In triumph to her lover's side-- This beauty fairer than the rest, With rounded limb and heaving breast. Each wound upon my face I owe To cruel Lakshman's savage blow. But thou, O brother, shalt survey Her moonlike loveliness to-day, And Kama's piercing shafts shall smite Thine amorous bosom at the sight. If in thy breast the longing rise To make thine own the beauteous prize, Up, let thy better foot begin The journey and the treasure win. If, giant Lord, thy favouring eyes Regard the plan which I advise, Up, cast all fear and doubt away And execute the words I say Come, giant King, this treasure seek, For thou art strong and they are weak. Let Sita of the faultless frame Be borne away and be thy dame. Thy host in Janasthan who dwelt Forth to the battle hied. And by the shafts which Rama dealt They perished in their pride. Dushan and Khara breathe no more, Laid low upon the plain. Arise, and ere the day be o'er Take vengeance for the slain."

No word the giant king returned: His eyes with flames of fury burned. His arm was stretched, his bow was bent, And swift his fiery shafts were sent. Red torrents from the Vanar flowed: Then Rama near to Ravan strode, And with keen darts that never failed, The chariot of the king assailed. With surest aim his arrows flew: The driver and the steeds he slew. And shattered with the pointed steel Car, flag, and pole and yoke and wheel. As Indra hurls his bolt to smite Mount Meru's heaven-ascending height, So Rama with a flaming dart Struck Lanka's monarch near the heart, Who reeled and fell beneath the blow And from loose fingers dropped his bow. Bright as the sun, with crescent head, From Rama's bow an arrow sped, And from his forehead, proud no more, Cleft the bright coronet he wore. Then Rama stood by Ravan's side And to the conquered giant cried: "Well hast thou fought: thine arm has slain Strong heroes of the Vanar train. I will not strike or slay thee now, For weary, faint with fight art thou. To Lanka's town thy footsteps bend, And there the night securely spend. To-morrow come with car and bow, And then my prowess shalt thou know."

The hermit ceased: the tale was done: Then in a transport Raghu's son Again addressed the ancient sire Resplendent as a burning fire: "O holy man, I fain would hear The tale repeated full and clear How he from whom my sires descend Brought the great rite to happy end." The hermit answered with a smile: "Then listen, son of Raghu, while My legendary tale proceeds To tell of high-souled Sagar's deeds. Within the spacious plain that lies From where Himalaya's heights arise To where proud Vindhya's rival chain Looks down upon the subject plain-- A land the best for rites declared(183)-- His sacrifice the king prepared. And Ansuman the prince--for so Sagar advised--with ready bow Was borne upon a mighty car To watch the steed who roamed afar. But Indra, monarch of the skies, Veiling his form in demon guise, Came down upon the appointed day And drove the victim horse away. Reft of the steed the priests, distressed, The master of the rite addressed: "Upon the sacred day by force A robber takes the victim horse. Haste, King! now let the thief be slain; Bring thou the charger back again: The sacred rite prevented thus Brings scathe and woe to all of us. Rise, monarch, and provide with speed That naught its happy course impede."

With well-wrought plaster smoothly spread, With bloomy trees that rose o'erhead, With banners waving in the air, And wild birds singing here and there, With fragrant sandal-water wet, With many a flower beside it set, Like the Gods' heavenly pathway showed That mighty host's imperial road. Deft workmen, chosen for their skill To do the high-souled Bharat's will, In every pleasant spot where grew Trees of sweet fruit and fair to view, As he commanded, toiled to grace With all delights his camping-place. And they who read the stars, and well Each lucky sign and hour could tell, Raised carefully the tented shade Wherein high-minded Bharat stayed. With ample space of level ground, With broad deep moat encompassed round; Like Mandar in his towering pride, With streets that ran from side to side; Enwreathed with many a palace tall Surrounded by its noble wall; With roads by skilful workmen made, Where many a glorious banner played; With stately mansions, where the dove Sat nestling in her cote above. Rising aloft supremely fair Like heavenly cars that float in air, Each camp in beauty and in bliss Matched Indra's own metropolis. As shines the heaven on some fair night, With moon and constellations filled, The prince's royal road was bright, Adorned by art of workmen skilled.

How fares the king? this night, I think, Some of the three in death will sink. With hopes upon Satrughna set My mother may survive as yet, But the sad queen will die who bore The hero, for her grief is sore. His cherished wish that would have made Dear Rama king, so long delayed, "Too late! too late!" the king will cry, And conquered by his misery die. When Fate has brought the mournful day Which sees my father pass away, How happy in their lives are they Allowed his funeral rites to pay. Our exile o'er, with him who ne'er Turns from the oath his lips may swear, May we returning safe and well gain in fair Ayodhya dwell." Thus Bharat stood with many a sigh Lamenting, and the night went by. Soon as the morning light shone fair In votive coils both bound their hair. And then I sent them safely o'er And left them on the farther shore. With Sita then they onward passed, Their coats of bark about them cast, Their locks like hermits' bound, The mighty tamers of the foe, Each with his arrows and his bow, Went over the rugged ground, Proud in their strength and undeterred Like elephants that lead the herd, And gazing oft around."

"See, see where Lanka's towers ascend, Which Ravan's power and might defend, Which Gods, Gandharvas, fiends would fail To conquer, if they durst assail. How shall our legions pass within, The city of the foe to win, With massive walls and portals barred Which Ravan keeps with surest guard?" With anxious looks the walls they eyed: And sage Vibhishan thus replied: "These lords of mine(946) can answer: they Within the walls have found their way, The foeman's plan and order learned, And hither to my side returned. Now, Rama, let my tongue declare How Ravan's hosts are stationed there. Prahasta heads, in warlike state, His legions at the eastern gate. To guard the southern portal stands Mahodar, girt by Rakshas bands, Where mighty Mahaparsva, sent By Ravan's hest, his aid has lent. Guard of the gate that fronts the west Is valiant Indrajit, the best Of warriors, Ravan's joy and pride; And by the youthful chieftain's side Are giants, armed for fierce attacks With sword and mace and battle-axe. North, where approach is dreaded most, The king, encompassed with a host Of giants trained in war, whose hands Wield maces, swords and lances, stands. All these are chiefs whom Ravan chose As mightiest to resist his foes; And each a countless army(947) leads With elephants and cars and steeds."

The glorious chief his speech renewed To faithful Lakshman as he sued, And on the eyes of Rama gazed Longing to lead, with hands upraised: "Thou art a hero just and dear, Whose steps to virtue's path adhere, Loved as my life till life shall end, My faithful brother and my friend. If to the woods thou take thy way With Sita and with me to-day, Who for Kausalya will provide, And guard the good Sumitra's side? The lord of earth, of mighty power, Who sends good things in plenteous shower, As Indra pours the grateful rain, A captive lies in passion's chain. The power imperial for her son Has Asvapati's daughter(306) won, And she, proud queen, will little heed Her miserable rivals' need. So Bharat, ruler of the land, By Queen Kaikeyi's side will stand, Nor of those two will ever think, While grieving in despair they sink. Now, Lakshman, as thy love decrees, Or else the monarch's heart to please, Follow this counsel and protect My honoured mother from neglect. So thou, while not to me alone Thy great affection will be shown, To highest duty wilt adhere By serving those thou shouldst revere. Now, son of Raghu, for my sake Obey this one request I make, Or, of her darling son bereft, Kausalya has no comfort left."

"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.

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

"Thou Dasaratha's son, hast slain The meaner giants of my train: And canst thou idly vaunt thy might And claim the praise not thine by right? Not thus in self-laudation rave The truly great, the nobly brave: No empty boasts like thine disgrace The foremost of the human race. The mean of soul, unknown to fame, Who taint their warrior race with shame, Thus speak in senseless pride as thou, O Raghu's son, hast boasted now. What hero, when the war-cry rings, Vaunts the high race from which he springs, Or seeks, when warriors meet and die, His own descent to glorify? Weakness and folly show confessed In every vaunt thou utterest, As when the flames fed high with grass Detect the simulating brass. Dost thou not see me standing here Armed with the mighty mace I rear, Firm as an earth upholding hill Whose summit veins of metal fill? Lo, here I stand before thy face To slay thee with my murderous mace, As Death, the universal lord, Stands threatening with his fatal cord. Enough of this. Much more remains That should be said: but time constrains. Ere to his rest the sun descend, And shades of night the combat end, The twice seven thousand of my band Who fell beneath thy bloody hand Shall have their tears all wiped away And triumph in thy fall to-day."

He heard, his bosom rent by grief, The counsel of his brother chief; Crushed in his heart the maddening pain, And rose resolved and strong again. Then forth upon his journey went The hero on his task intent, Nor thought of Pampa's lovely brook, Or trees which murmuring breezes shook, Though on dark woods his glances fell, On waterfall and cave and dell; And still by many a care distressed The son of Raghu onward pressed. As some wild elephant elate Moves through the woods in pride, So Lakshman with majestic gait Strode by his brother's side. He, for his lofty spirit famed, Admonished and consoled; Showed Raghu's son what duty claimed, And bade his heart be bold. Then as the brothers strode apace To Rishyamuka's height, The sovereign of the Vanar race(536) Was troubled at the sight. As on the lofty hill he strayed He saw the chiefs draw near: A while their glorious forms surveyed, And mused in restless fear. His slow majestic step he stayed And gazed upon the pair. And all his spirit sank dismayed By fear too great to bear. When in their glorious might the best Of royal chiefs came nigh, The Vanars in their wild unrest Prepared to turn and fly. They sought the hermit's sacred home(537) For peace and bliss ordained, And there, where Vanars loved to roam, A sure asylum gained.

He spoke by generous impulse moved, And Raghu's son his speech approved Glancing at Lakshman by his side, Like Indra in his beauty's pride. The Vanar monarch saw the pair Of mighty brothers standing there, And turned his rapid eye to view The forest trees that near him grew. He saw, not far from where he stood, A Sal tree towering o'er the wood. Amid the thick leaves many a bee Graced the scant blossoms of the tree, From whose dark shade a bough, that bore A load of leafy twigs, he tore, Which on the grassy ground he laid And seats for him and Rama made. Hanuman saw them sit, he sought A Sal tree's leafy bough and brought The burthen, and with meek request Entreated Lakshman, too, to rest. There on the noble mountain's brow, Strewn with the young leaves of the bough, Sat Raghu's son in placid ease Calm as the sea when sleeps the breeze. Sugriva's heart with rapture swelled, And thus, by eager love impelled, He spoke in gracious tone, that, oft Checked by his joy, was low and soft: "I, by my brother's might oppressed, By ceaseless woe and fear distressed, Mourning my consort far away, On Rishyamuka's mountain stray. Expelled by Bali's cruel hate I wander here disconsolate. Do thou to whom all sufferers flee, From his dread hand deliver me."

Down from the tree Hanuman came And humbly stood before the dame. Then joining reverent palm to palm Addressed her thus with words of balm: "Why should the tears of sorrow rise, Sweet lady, to those lovely eyes, As when the wind-swept river floods Two half expanded lotus buds? Who art thou, O most fair of face? Of Asur,(850) or celestial race? Did Naga mother give thee birth? For sure thou art no child of earth. Do Rudras(851) claim that heavenly form? Or the swift Gods(852) who ride the storm? Or art thou Rohini(853) the blest, That star more lovely than the rest,-- Reft from the Moon thou lovest well And doomed a while on earth to dwell? Or canst thou, fairest wonder, be The starry queen Arundhati,(854) Fled in thy wrath or jealous pride From her dear lord Vasishtha's side? Who is the husband, father, son Or brother, O thou loveliest one, Gone from this world in heaven to dwell, For whom those eyes with weeping swell? Yet, by the tears those sweet eyes shed, Yet, by the earth that bears thy tread,(855) By calling on a monarch's name, No Goddess but a royal dame. Art thou the queen, fair lady, say, Whom Ravan stole and bore away? Yea, by that agony of woe, That form unrivalled here below, That votive garb, thou art, I ween, King Janak's child and Rama's queen."

The Wind-God's son a temple(873) scaled Which, by his fury unassailed, High as the hill of Meru, stood Amid the ruins of the wood; And in his fury thundered out Again his haughty battle-shout: "I am the slave of Kosal's King Whose wondrous deeds the minstrels sing." Forth hurried, by that shout alarmed, The warders of the temple armed With every weapon haste supplied, And closed him in on every side, With bands that strove to pierce and strike With shaft and axe and club and pike. Then from its base the Vanar tore A pillar with the weight it bore. Against the wall the mass he dashed, And forth the flames in answer flashed, That wildly ran o'er roofs and wall In hungry rage consuming all. He whirled the pillar round his head And struck a hundred giants dead. Then high upheld on air he rose And called in thunder to his foes: "A thousand Vanar chiefs like me Roam at their will o'er land and sea, Terrific might we all possess: Our stormy speed is limitless. And all, unconquered in the fray, Our king Sugriva's word obey. Backed by his bravest myriads, he Our warrior lord will cross the sea. Then Lanka's lofty towers, and all Your hosts and Ravan's self shall fall. None shall be left unslaughtered; none Who braves the wrath of Raghu's son."

Vibhishan saw his brother slain, Nor could his heart its woe contain. O'er the dead king he sadly bent And mourned him with a loud lament: "O hero, bold and brave," he cried, "Skilled in all arms, in battle tried. Spoiled of thy crown, with limbs outspread, Why wilt thou press thy gory bed? Why slumber on the earth's cold breast, When sumptuous couches woo to rest? Ah me, my brother over bold, Thine is the fate my heart foretold: But love and pride forbade to hear The friend who blamed thy wild career. Fallen is the sun who gave us light, Our lordly moon is veiled in night. Our beacon fire is dead and cold A hundred waves have o'er it rolled. What could his light and fire avail Against Lord Rama's arrowy hail? Woe for the giants' royal tree, Whose stately height was fair to see. His buds were deeds of kingly grace, His bloom the sons who decked his race. With rifled bloom and mangled bough The royal tree lies prostrate now." "Nay, idly mourn not," Rama cried, "The warrior king has nobly died, Intrepid hero, firm through all, So fell he as the brave should fall; And ill beseems it chiefs like us To weep for those who perish thus. Be firm: thy causeless grief restrain, And pay the dues that yet remain."

The devotee must be content To live, severely abstinent, On what the chance of fortune shows: The wood, my love, is full of woes. Hunger afflicts him evermore: The nights are black, the wild winds roar; And there are dangers worse than those: The wood, my love, is full of woes. There creeping things in every form Infest the earth, the serpents swarm, And each proud eye with fury glows: The wood, my love, is full of woes. The snakes that by the rives hide In sinuous course like rivers glide, And line the path with deadly foes: The wood, my love, is full of woes. Scorpions, and grasshoppers, and flies Disturb the wanderer as he lies, And wake him from his troubled doze: The wood, my love, is full of woes. Trees, thorny bushes, intertwined, Their branched ends together bind, And dense with grass the thicket grows: The wood, my dear, is full of woes, With many ills the flesh is tried, When these and countless fears beside Vex those who in the wood remain: The wilds are naught but grief and pain. Hope, anger must be cast aside, To penance every thought applied: No fear must be of things to fear: Hence is the wood for ever drear. Enough, my love: thy purpose quit: For forest life thou art not fit. As thus I think on all, I see The wild wood is no place for thee."

"Quick, quick! This Vanar host restrain, For heralds never must be slain. To him alone, a wretch untrue, The punishment of death is due Who leaves his master's speech unsaid And speaks another in its stead." Moved by the suppliant speech and prayer Up sprang the prince and cried, forbear. Saved from his wild assailant's blows Again the Rakshas herald rose And borne on light wings to the sky Addressed Sugriva from on high: "O Vanar Monarch, chief endued With power and wonderous fortitude, What answer is my king, the fear And scourge of weeping worlds, to hear?" "Go tell thy lord," Sugriva cried, "Thou, Rama's foe, art thus defied. His arm the guilty Bali slew; Thus, tyrant, shalt thou perish too. Thy sons, thy friends, proud King, and all Thy kith and kin with thee shall fall; And, emptied of the giant's brood, Burnt Lanka be a solitude. Fly to the Sun-God's pathway, go And hide thee deep in hell below: In vain from Rama shalt thou flee Though heavenly warriors fight for thee. Thine arm subdued, securely bold, The Vulture-king infirm and old: But will thy puny strength avail When Raghu's wrathful sons assail? A captive in thy palace lies The lady of the lotus eyes: Thou knowest not how fierce and strong Is he whom thou hast dared to wrong. The best of Raghu's lineage, he Whose conquering hand shall punish thee."

Straight at the king the giant sped, And earth was shaken at his tread. His bow the hero grasped and strained, And deadly shafts in torrents rained. As Kumbhakarna felt each stroke From his huge mouth burst fire and smoke; His hands were loosed in mortal pain And dropped his weapons on the plain. Though reft of spear and sword and mace No terror changed his haughty face. With heavy hands he rained his blows And smote to death a thousand foes. Where'er the furious monster strode While down his limbs the red blood flowed Like torrents down a mountain's side, Vanars and bears and giants died. High o'er his head a rock he swung, And the huge mass at Rama flung. But Rama's arrows bright as flame Shattered the mountain as it came. Then Raghu's son, his eyes aglow With burning anger, charged the foe, And as his bow he strained and tried With fearful clang the cord replied. Wroth at the bowstring's threatening clang To meet his foe the giant sprang. High towering with enormous frame Huge as a wood-crowned hill he came. But Rama firm and self-possessed In words like these the foe addressed: "Draw near, O Rakshas lord, draw near, Nor turn thee from the fight in fear. Thou meetest Rama face to face, Destroyer of the giant race. Come, fight, and thou shalt feel this hour, Laid low in death, thy conqueror's power."

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

Here players shone in bright attire, There dancing women swelled the quire. Each with his friend had much to say Of Rama's consecration-day: Yea, even children, as they played At cottage doors beneath the shade. The royal street with flowers was strown Which loving hands in heaps had thrown, And here and there rich incense lent Its fragrance to the garland's scent; And all was fresh and fair and bright In honour of the coming rite. With careful foresight to illume With borrowed blaze the midnight gloom, The crowds erected here and there Trees in each street gay lamps to bear. The city thus from side to side In festal guise was beautified. The people of the town who longed To view the rite together thronged, And filling every court and square Praised the good king in converse there: "Our high-souled king! He throws a grace On old Ikshvaku's royal race. He feels his years' increasing weight, And makes his son associate. Great joy to us the choice will bring Of Rama for our lord and king. The good and bad to him are known, And long will he protect his own. No pride his prudent breast may swell, Most just, he loves his brothers well, And to us all that love extends, Cherished as brothers and as friends. Long may our lord in life remain, Good Dasaratha, free from stain, By whose most gracious favour we Rama anointed king shall see."

Heart sick, dejected, every sense Confused by terror's influence, On to the town he quickly swept Which King Ikshvaku's children kept. He passed through Vaijayanta's gate, With weary steeds, disconsolate, And all who near their station held, His escort, crying Victory, swelled, With heart distracted still he bowed Farewell to all the following crowd, Turned to the driver and began To question thus the weary man: "Why was I brought, O free from blame, So fast, unknown for what I came? Yet fear of ill my heart appals, And all my wonted courage falls. For I have heard in days gone by The changes seen when monarchs die; And all those signs, O charioteer, I see to-day surround me here: Each kinsman's house looks dark and grim, No hand delights to keep it trim: The beauty vanished, and the pride, The doors, unkept, stand open wide. No morning rites are offered there, No grateful incense loads the air, And all therein, with brows o'ercast, Sit joyless on the ground and fast. Their lovely chaplets dry and dead, Their courts unswept, with dust o'erspread, The temples of the Gods to-day No more look beautiful and gay. Neglected stands each holy shrine, Each image of a Lord divine. No shop where flowery wreaths are sold Is bright and busy as of old. The women and the men I mark Absorbed in fancies dull and dark, Their gloomy eyes with tears bedewed, A poor afflicted multitude."

Then Bharat to Satrughna showed The spot, and eager onward strode, First bidding Saint Vasishtha bring The widowed consorts of the king. As by fraternal love impelled His onward course the hero held, Sumantra followed close behind Satrughna with an anxious mind: Not Bharat's self more fain could be To look on Rama's face than he. As, speeding on, the spot he neared, Amid the hermits' homes appeared His brother's cot with leaves o'erspread, And by its side a lowly shed. Before the shed great heaps were left Of gathered flowers and billets cleft, And on the trees hung grass and bark Rama and Lakshman's path to mark: And heaps of fuel to provide Against the cold stood ready dried. The long-armed chief, as on he went In glory's light preeminent, With joyous words like these addressed The brave Satrughna and the rest: "This is the place, I little doubt, Which Bharadvaja pointed out, Not far from where we stand must be The woodland stream, Mandakini. Here on the mountain's woody side Roam elephants in tusked pride, And ever with a roar and cry Each other, as they meet, defy. And see those smoke-wreaths thick and dark: The presence of the flame they mark, Which hermits in the forest strive By every art to keep alive. O happy me! my task is done, And I shall look on Raghu's son, Like some great saint, who loves to treat His elders with all reverence meet."