Ramayana on Self-Control

Then Mainda, wisest chief, who knew The wrong, the right, the false, the true, Pondered a while, then silence broke, And thus his sober counsel spoke:

When the bright sun had left the skies The Vanar dwarfed his mighty size, And, in the straitest bounds restrained, The bigness of a cat retained.(805) Then, when the moon's soft light was spread, Within the city's walls he sped.

The hermits, whom that sight had awed, Extolled the saint, with hymn and laud: "Thy power, O Sage, is ne'er in vain: Now with thy might thy might restrain. Be gracious, Master, and allow The worlds to rest from trouble now; For Visvamitra, strong and dread, By thee has been discomfited."

Pure, with glad cheer and joyful breast, Of those mysterious arms possessed, Rama, now passing on his way, Thus to the saint began to say: "Lord of these mighty weapons, I Can scarce be harmed by Gods on high; Now, best of saints, I long to gain The powers that can these arms restrain." Thus spoke the prince. The sage austere, True to his vows, from evil clear, Called forth the names of those great charms Whose powers restrain the deadly arms. "Receive thou True and Truly famed, And Bold and Fleet: the weapons named Warder and Progress, swift of pace, Averted-head and Drooping-face; The Seen, and that which Secret flies; The weapon of the thousand eyes; Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced, Star-gazer and the Layer-waste: The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot, The pair that wake and slumber not: The Fiendish, that which shakes amain, The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain: The Guardian, and the Close-allied, The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side: O Raghu's son receive all these, Bright ones that wear what forms they please; Krisasva's mystic sons are they, And worthy thou their might to sway." With joy the pride of Raghu's race Received the hermit's proffered grace, Mysterious arms, to check and stay, Or smite the foeman in the fray. Then, all with heavenly forms endued, Nigh came the wondrous multitude. Celestial in their bright attire Some shone like coals of burning fire; Some were like clouds of dusky smoke; And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke: "Thy thralls, O Rama, here we stand: Command, we pray, thy faithful band" "Depart," he cried, "where each may list, But when I call you to assist, Be present to my mind with speed, And aid me in the hour of need."

Lord Indra ceased. The nymph obeyed: In all her loveliest charms arrayed, With winning ways and witching smile She sought the hermit to beguile. The sweet note of that tuneful bird The saint with ravished bosom heard, And on his heart a rapture passed As on the nymph a look he cast. But when he heard the bird prolong His sweet incomparable song, And saw the nymph with winning smile, The hermit's heart perceived the wile. And straight he knew the Thousand-eyed A plot against his peace had tried. Then Kusik's son indignant laid His curse upon the heavenly maid: "Because thou wouldst my soul engage Who fight to conquer love and rage, Stand, till ten thousand years have flown, Ill-fated maid, transformed to stone. A Brahman then, in glory strong, Mighty through penance stern and long, Shall free thee from thine altered shape; Thou from my curse shalt then escape." But when the saint had cursed her so, His breast was burnt with fires of woe, Grieved that long effort to restrain His mighty wrath was all in vain. Cursed by the angry sage's power, She stood in stone that selfsame hour. Kandarpa heard the words he said, And quickly from his presence fled. His fall beneath his passion's sway Had reft the hermit's meed away. Unconquered yet his secret foes, The humbled saint refused repose: "No more shall rage my bosom till, Sealed be my lips, my tongue be still. My very breath henceforth I hold Until a thousand years are told: Victorious o'er each erring sense, I'll dry my frame with abstinence, Until by penance duly done A Brahman's rank be bought and won. For countless years, as still as death, I taste no food, I draw no breath, And as I toil my frame shall stand Unharmed by time's destroying hand."

Thus faithful Lakshman strove to cheer The prince with counsel wise and clear. Who, prompt to seize the pith of all, Let not that wisdom idly fall. With vigorous effort he restrained The passion in his breast that reigned, And leaning on his bow for rest His brother Lakshman thus addressed: "How shall we labour now, reflect; Whither again our search direct? Brother, what plan canst thou devise To bring her to these longing eyes?"

Satrughna thus to Bharat spake Who longed the forest road to take: "He who in woe was wont to give Strength to himself and all that live-- Dear Rama, true and pure in heart, Is banished by a woman's art. Yet here was Lakshman, brave and strong, Could not his might prevent the wrong? Could not his arm the king restrain, Or make the banished free again? One loving right and fearing crime Had checked the monarch's sin in time, When, vassal of a woman's will, His feet approached the path of ill."

"What fool has dared, already dead, Strike Janasthan, the general dread? Who is the wretch shall vainly try In earth, heaven, hell, from me to fly? Vaisravan,(481) Indra, Vishnu, He Who rules the dead, must reverence me; For not the mightiest lord of these Can brave my will and live at ease. Fate finds in me a mightier fate To burn the fires that devastate. With unresisted influence I Can force e'en Death himself to die, With all-surpassing might restrain The fury of the hurricane, And burn in my tremendous ire The glory of the sun and fire."

"Let time and place thy thoughts employ: In woe be strong, be meek in joy. Accept both pain and pleasure, still Obedient to Sugriva's will. Thou hast, my darling, from the first With tender care been softly nursed; But harder days, if thou wouldst win Sugriva's love, must now begin. To those who hate him ne'er incline, Nor count his foe a friend of thine. In all thy thoughts his welfare seek, Obedient, lowly, faithful, meek. Let no rash suit his bosom pain, Nor yet from due requests abstain.(608) Each is a grievous fault, between The two is found the happy mean."

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

"I needs must go--do thou consent-- To the wild wood in banishment. O give me, by my life I pray, Thy blessing ere I go away. I, when the promised years are o'er, Shall see Ayodhya's town once more. Then, mother dear, thy tears restrain, Nor let thy heart be wrung by pain: In time, my father's will obeyed, Shall I return from greenwood shade. My dear Videhan, thou, and I, Lakshman, Sumitra, feel this tie, And must my father's word obey, As duty bids that rules for aye. Thy preparations now forgo, And lock within thy breast thy woe, Nor be my pious wish withstood To go an exile to the wood."

Thus Bali spoke in words severe; And then, unmoved by ruth or fear, Left me a single robe and sent His brother forth in banishment. He cast me out with scathe and scorn, And from my side my wife was torn. Now in great fear and ill at ease I roam this land with woods and seas, Or dwell on Rishyamuka's hill, And sorrow for my consort still. Thou hast the tale how first arose This bitter hate of brother foes. Such are the griefs neath which I pine, And all without a fault of mine. O swift to save in hour of fear, My prayer who dread this Bali, hear With gracious love assistance deign, And mine oppressor's arm restrain."

But Trisiras,(471) a chieftain dread, Marked Khara as he onward sped. And met his car and cried, to stay The giant from the purposed fray: "Mine be the charge: let me attack, And turn thee from the contest back. Let me go forth, and thou shalt see The strong-armed Rama slain by me. True are the words I speak, my lord: I swear it as I touch my sword: That I this Rama's blood will spill, Whom every giant's hand should kill. This Rama will I slay, or he In battle fray shall conquer me. Restrain thy spirit: check thy car, And view the combat from afar. Thou, joying o'er the prostrate foe, To Janasthan again shalt go, Or, if I fall in battle's chance, Against my conqueror advance."

She spoke. He took the proffered seat, And as she pressed her son to eat, Raised reverent bands, and, touched with shame, Made answer to the royal dame: "Dear lady, thou hast yet to know That danger threats, and heavy woe: A grief that will with sore distress On Sita, thee, and Lakshman press. What need of seats have such as I? This day to Dandak wood I fly. The hour is come, a time, unmeet For silken couch and gilded seat. I must to lonely wilds repair, Abstain from flesh, and living there On roots, fruit, honey, hermit's food, Pass twice seven years in solitude. To Bharat's hand the king will yield The regent power I thought to wield, And me, a hermit, will he send My days in Dandak wood to spend."

Then fearless, atheists overleap The bounds of right the godly keep, And when no royal powers restrain, Preeminence and lordship gain. As in the frame of man the eye Keeps watch and ward, a careful spy, The monarch in his wide domains Protects the truth, the right maintains. He is the right, the truth is he, Their hopes in him the well-born see. On him his people's lives depend, Mother is he, and sire, and friend. The world were veiled in blinding night, And none could see or know aright, Ruled there no king in any state The good and ill to separate. We will obey thy word and will As if our king were living still: As keeps his bounds the faithful sea, So we observe thy high decree. O best of Brahmans, first in place, Our kingless land lies desolate: Some scion of Ikshvaku's race Do thou as monarch consecrate."

"She whom like some sweet herb of grace Thou seekest in this lonely place, Fair lady, is fierce Ravan's prey, Who took, beside, my life away. Lakshman and thou had parted hence And left the dame without defence. I saw her swiftly borne away By Ravan's might which none could stay. I hurried to the lady's aid, I crushed his car and royal shade, And putting forth my warlike might Hurled Ravan to the earth in fight. Here, Rama, lies his broken bow, Here lie the arrows of the foe. There on the ground before thee are The fragments of his battle car. There bleeds the driver whom my wings Beat down with ceaseless buffetings. When toil my aged strength subdued, His sword my weary pinions hewed. Then lifting up the dame he bare His captive through the fields of air. Thy vengeful blows from me restrain, Already by the giant slain."

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."

Then anger swelled in Ravan's breast, Who fiercely thus the dame addressed: "'Tis ever thus: in vain we sue To woman, and her favour woo. A lover's humble words impel Her wayward spirit to rebel. The love of thee that fills my soul Still keeps my anger in control, As charioteers with bit and rein The swerving of the steed restrain. The love that rules me bids me spare Thy forfeit life, O thou most fair. For this, O Sita, have I borne The keen reproach, the bitter scorn, And the fond love thou boastest yet For that poor wandering anchoret; Else had the words which thou hast said Brought death upon thy guilty head. Two months, fair dame, I grant thee still To bend thee to thy lover's will. If when that respite time is fled Thou still refuse to share my bed, My cooks shall mince thy limbs with steel And serve thee for my morning meal."(834)

We with such might have naught to do: The forest rule should guide us too. But when Ayodhya hails thee lord, Be then thy warrior life restored: So shall thy sire(423) and mother joy In bliss that naught may e'er destroy. And if, resigning empire, thou Submit thee to the hermit's vow, The noblest gain from virtue springs, And virtue joy unending brings. All earthly blessings virtue sends: On virtue all the world depends. Those who with vow and fasting tame To due restraint the mind and frame, Win by their labour, nobly wise, The highest virtue for their prize. Pure in the hermit's grove remain, True to thy duty, free from stain. But the three worlds are open thrown To thee, by whom all things are known. Who gave me power that I should dare His duty to my lord declare? 'Tis woman's fancy, light as air, That moves my foolish breast. Now with thy brother counsel take, Reflect, thy choice with judgment make, And do what seems the best."

His eyes with burning wrath aglow, Satrughna, shatterer of the foe, Dragged on the ground the hump-back maid Who shrieked aloud and screamed for aid. This way and that with no remorse He dragged her with resistless force, And chains and glittering trinkets burst Lay here and there with gems dispersed, Till like the sky of Autumn shone The palace floor they sparkled on. The lord of men, supremely strong, Haled in his rage the wretch along: Where Queen Kaikeyi dwelt he came, And sternly then addressed the dame. Deep in her heart Kaikeyi felt The stabs his keen reproaches dealt, And of Satrughna's ire afraid, To Bharat flew and cried for aid. He looked and saw the prince inflamed With burning rage, and thus exclaimed: "Forgive! thine angry arm restrain: A woman never may be slain. My hand Kaikeyi's blood would spill, The sinner ever bent on ill, But Rama, long in duty tried, Would hate the impious matricide: And if he knew thy vengeful blade Had slaughtered e'en this hump-back maid, Never again, be sure, would he Speak friendly word to thee or me."

"Your favour, gracious lords, I claim, O'erwhelmed with this enormous shame That Brahmans, great and pure as you, Who should be sought, to me should sue." And then before the saintly crowd, "What can I do?" I cried aloud. Then from the trembling hermits broke One long sad cry, and thus they spoke: "Fiends of the wood, who wear at will Each varied shape, afflict us still. To thee in our distress we fly: O help us, Rama, or we die. When sacred rites of fire are due, When changing moons are full or new, These fiends who bleeding flesh devour Assail us with resistless power. They with their cruel might torment The hermits on their vows intent: We look around for help and see Our surest refuge, Prince, in thee. We, armed with powers of penance, might Destroy the rovers of the night: But loth were we to bring to naught The merit years of toil have bought. Our penance rites are grown too hard, By many a check and trouble barred, But though our saints for food are slain The withering curse we yet restrain. Thus many a weary day distressed By giants who this wood infest, We see at length deliverance, thou With Lakshman art our guardian now."

While yet the dust was seen afar That marked the course of Rama's car, The glory of Ikshvaku's race Turned not away his eager face. While yet his duteous son he saw He could not once his gaze withdraw, But rooted to the spot remained With eyes that after Rama strained. But when that dust no more he viewed, Fainting he fell by grief subdued. To his right hand Kausalya went, And ready aid the lady lent, While Bharat's loving mother tried To raise him on the other side. The king, within whose ordered soul Justice and virtue held control, To Queen Kaikeyi turned and said, With every sense disquieted: "Touch me not, thou whose soul can plot All sin. Kaikeyi, touch me not. No loving wife, no friend to me, I ne'er again would look on thee; Ne'er from this day have aught to do With thee and all thy retinue; Thee whom no virtuous thoughts restrain, Whose selfish heart seeks only gain. The hand I laid in mine, O dame, The steps we took around the flame,(317) And all that links thy life to mine Here and hereafter I resign. If Bharat too, thy darling son, Joy in the rule thy art has won, Ne'er may the funeral offerings paid By his false hand approach my shade."

Then on the king her back she turned, And answered thus the prayer she spurned: "Turn, Ravan, turn thee from thy sin; Seek virtue's paths and walk therein. To others dames be honour shown; Protect them as thou wouldst thine own. Taught by thyself, from wrong abstain Which, wrought on thee, thy heart would pain.(832) Beware: this lawless love of thine Will ruin thee and all thy line; And for thy sin, thy sin alone, Will Lanka perish overthrown. Dream not that wealth and power can sway My heart from duty's path to stray. Linked like the Day-God and his shine, I am my lord's and he is mine. Repent thee of thine impious deed; To Rama's side his consort lead. Be wise; the hero's friendship gain, Nor perish in his fury slain. Go, ask the God of Death to spare, Or red bolt flashing through the air, But look in vain for spell or charm To stay my Rama's vengeful arm. Thou, when the hero bends his bow, Shalt hear the clang that heralds woe, Loud as the clash when clouds are rent And Indra's bolt to earth is sent. Then shall his furious shafts be sped, Each like a snake with fiery head, And in their flight shall hiss and flame Marked with the mighty archer's name.(833) Then in the fiery deluge all Thy giants round their king shall fall."

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."

Rama the good, in ritual trained, Pure from the bath, with thoughts restrained, Hasted those verses to repeat Which make the sacrifice complete. The hosts celestial came in view, And Rama to the cot withdrew, While a sweet sense of rapture stole Through the unequalled hero's soul. He paid the Visvedevas(332) due. And Rudra's right, and Vishnu's too, Nor wonted blessings, to protect Their new-built home, did he neglect. With voice repressed he breathed the prayer, Bathed duly in the river fair, And gave good offerings that remove The stain of sin, as texts approve. And many an altar there he made, And shrines, to suit the holy shade, All decked with woodland chaplets sweet, And fruit and roots and roasted meat, With muttered prayer, as texts require, Water, and grass and wood and fire. So Rama, Lakshman, Sita paid Their offerings to each God and shade, And entered then their pleasant cot That bore fair signs of happy lot. They entered, the illustrious three, The well-set cottage, fair to see, Roofed with the leaves of many a tree, And fenced from wind and rain: So, at their Father Brahma's call, The Gods of heaven, assembling all, To their own glorious council hall Advance in shining train. So, resting on that lovely hill, Near the fair lily-covered rill, The happy prince forgot, Surrounded by the birds and deer, The woe, the longing, and the fear That gloom the exile's lot.

"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."

The wicked queen her speech renewed, When rolling on the earth she viewed Ikshvaku's son, Ayodhya's king, For his dear Rama sorrowing: "Why, by a simple promise bound, Liest thou prostrate on the ground, As though a grievous sin dismayed Thy spirit! Why so sore afraid? Keep still thy word. The righteous deem That truth, mid duties, is supreme: And now in truth and honour's name I bid thee own the binding claim. Saivya, a king whom earth obeyed, Once to a hawk a promise made, Gave to the bird his flesh and bone, And by his truth made heaven his own.(277) Alarka, when a Brahman famed For Scripture lore his promise claimed, Tore from his head his bleeding eyes And unreluctant gave the prize. His narrow bounds prescribed restrain The Rivers' Lord, the mighty main, Who, though his waters boil and rave, Keeps faithful to the word he gave. Truth all religion comprehends, Through all the world its might extends: In truth alone is justice placed, On truth the words of God are based: A life in truth unchanging past Will bring the highest bliss at last. If thou the right would still pursue, Be constant to thy word and true: Let me thy promise fruitful see, For boons, O King, proceed from thee. Now to preserve thy righteous fame, And yielding to my earnest claim-- Thrice I repeat it--send thy child, Thy Rama, to the forest wild. But if the boon thou still deny, Before thy face, forlorn, I die."

I mourned, by doubt and fear distressed, And greater horror seized my breast When from the cavern rolled a flood, A carnage stream of froth and blood; And from the depths a sound of fear, The roar of demons, smote mine ear; But never rang my brother's shout Triumphant in the battle rout. I closed the cavern with a block, Huge as a hill, of shattered rock. Gave offerings due to Bali's shade, And sought Kishkindha, sore dismayed. Long time with anxious care I tried From Bali's lords his fate to hide, But they, when once the tale was known, Placed me as king on Bali's throne. There for a while I justly reigned And all with equal care ordained, When joyous from the demon slain My brother Bali came again. He found me ruling in his stead, And, fired with rage, his eyes grew red. He slew the lords who made me king, And spoke keen words to taunt and sting. The kingly rank and power I held My brother's rage with ease had quelled, But still, restrained by old respect For claims of birth, the thought I checked. Thus having struck the demon down Came Bali to his royal town. With meek respect, with humble speech, His haughty heart I strove to reach. But all my arts were tried in vain, No gentle word his lips would deign, Though to the ground I bent and set His feet upon my coronet: Still Bali in his rage and pride All signs of grace and love denied."

Thus like a helpless mourner, bent By sorrow, Rama made lament; And with wise counsel Lakshman tried To soothe his care, and thus replied: "O best of men, thy grief oppose, Nor sink beneath thy weight of woes. Not thus despond the great and pure And brave like thee, but still endure. Reflect what anguish wrings the heart When loving souls are forced to part; And, mindful of the coming pain, Thy love within thy breast restrain. For earth, though cooled by wandering streams, Lies scorched beneath the midday beams. Ravan his steps to hell may bend, Or lower yet in flight descend; But be thou sure, O Raghu's son, Avenging death he shall not shun. Rise, Rama, rise: the search begin, And track the giant foul with sin. Then shall the fiend, though far he fly, Resign his prey or surely die. Yea, though the trembling monster hide With Sita close to Diti's(535) side, E'en there, unless he yield the prize, Slain by this wrathful hand he dies. Thy heart with strength and courage stay, And cast this weakling mood away. Our fainting hopes in vain revive Unless with firm resolve we strive. The zeal that fires the toiler's breast Mid earthly powers is first and best. Zeal every check and bar defies, And wins at length the loftiest prize, In woe and danger, toil and care, Zeal never yields to weak despair. With zealous heart thy task begin, And thou once more thy spouse shalt win. Cast fruitless sorrow from thy soul, Nor let this love thy heart control. Forget not all thy sacred lore, But be thy noble self once more."

The damsel's breast with fury burned: She answered, as the gift she spurned: "What time, O simple Queen, is this For idle dreams of fancied bliss? Hast thou not sense thy state to know, Engulfed in seas of whelming woe; Sick as I am with grief and pain My lips can scarce a laugh restrain To see thee hail with ill-timed joy A peril mighty to destroy. I mourn for one so fondly blind: What woman of a prudent mind Would welcome, e'en as thou hast done, The lordship of a rival's son, Rejoiced to find her secret foe Empowered, like death, to launch the blow; I see that Rama still must fear Thy Bharat, to his throne too near. Hence is my heart disquieted, For those who fear are those we dread. Lakshman, the mighty bow who draws, With all his soul serves Rama's cause; And chains as strong to Bharat bind Satrughna, with his heart and mind, Now next to Rama, lady fair, Thy Bharat is the lawful heir: And far remote, I ween, the chance That might the younger two advance. Yes, Queen, 'tis Rama that I dread, Wise, prompt, in warlike science bred; And oh, I tremble when I think Of thy dear child on ruin's brink. Blest with a lofty fate is she, Kausalya; for her son will be Placed, when the moon and Pushya meet, By Brahmans on the royal seat, Thou as a slave in suppliant guise Must wait upon Kausalya's eyes, With all her wealth and bliss secured And glorious from her foes assured. Her slave with us who serve thee, thou Wilt see thy son to Rama bow, And Sita's friends exult o'er all, While Bharat's wife shares Bharat's fall."

Great joy and happy fate are thine, O Lakshman, marked with each fair sign, Whose faithful footsteps follow still Thy brother in his hour of ill. And blest is Sita, nobly good, Who dwells with Rama in the wood. Ours is, alas, a doubtful fate Of Rama reft and desolate. My royal sire has gained the skies, In woods the high-souled hero lies; The state is wrecked and tempest-tossed, A vessel with her rudder lost. Yet none in secret thought has planned With hostile might to seize the land: Though forced in distant wilds to dwell, The hero's arm protects it well. Unguarded, with deserted wall, No elephant or steed in stall, My father's royal city shows Her portals open to her foes, Of bold protectors reft and bare, Defenceless in her dark despair: But still her foes the wish restrain, As men from poisoned cates refrain. I from this hour my nights will pass Couched on the earth or gathered grass, Eat only fruit and roots, and wear A coat of bark, and matted hair. I in the woods will pass, content, For him the term of banishment; So shall I still unbroken save The promise which the hero gave. While I remain for Rama there, Satrughna will my exile share, And Rama in his home again, With Lakshman, o'er Ayodhya reign, for him, to rule and guard the state, The twice-born men shall consecrate. O, may the Gods I serve incline To grant this earnest wish of mine! If when I bow before his feet And with all moving arts entreat, He still deny my prayer, Then with my brother will I live: He must, he must permission give, Roaming in forests there."

In suppliant tone the Vanar prayed, And Raghu's son his answer made: "By Lakshman's hand this flowery twine Was wound about thee for a sign. The wreath of giant creeper throws About thy form its brillant glows, As though about the sun were set The bright stars for a coronet. One shaft of mine this day, dear friend, Thy sorrow and thy fear shall end. And, from the bowstring freed, shall be Giver of freedom, King, to thee. Then come, Sugriva, quickly show, Where'er he lie, thy bitter foe; And let my glance the wretch descry Whose deeds, a brother's name belie. Yea, soon in dust and blood o'erthrown Shall Bali fall and gasp and groan. Once let this eye the foeman see, Then, if he live to turn and flee, Despise my puny strength, and shame With foul opprobrium Rama's name. Hast thou not seen his hand, O King, Through seven tall trees one arrow wing? Still in that strength securely trust, And deem thy foeman in the dust. In all my days, though surely tried By grief and woe, I ne'er have lied; And still by duty's law restrained Will ne'er with falsehood's charge be stained. Cast doubt away: the oath I sware Its kindly fruit shall quickly bear, As smiles the land with golden grain By mercy of the Lord of rain. Oh, warrior to the gate I defy Thy foe with shout and battle-cry, Till Bali with his chain of gold Come speeding from his royal hold. Proud hearts, with warlike fire aglow, Brook not the challenge of a foe: Each on his power and might relies, And most before his ladies eyes. King Bali loves the fray too well To linger in his citadel, And, when he hears thy battle-shout, All wild for war will hasten out."

"Needs not to you who know declare How ever with paternal care My fathers of Ikshvaku's line Have ruled the realm which now is mine. I too have taught my feet to tread The pathway of the mighty dead, And with fond care that never slept Have, as I could, my people kept. So toiling still, and ne'er remiss For all my people's weal and bliss, Beneath the white umbrella's(260) shade. Old age is come and strength decayed. Thousands of years have o'er me flown, And generations round me grown And passed away. I crave at length Repose and ease for broken strength. Feeble and worn I scarce can bear The ruler's toil, the judge's care, With royal dignity, a weight That tries the young and temperate. I long to rest, my labour done, And in my place to set my son, If to the twice-born gathered here My counsel wise and good appear. For greater gifts than mine adorn Rama my son, my eldest-born. Like Indra brave, before him fall The foeman's cities, tower and wall. Him prince of men for power and might, The best maintainer of the right, Fair as the moon when nothing bars His glory close to Pushya's stars, Him with to-morrow's light I fain Would throne the consort of my reign. A worthy lord for you, I ween, Marked as her own by Fortune's Queen. The triple world itself would be Well ruled by such a king as he. To such high bliss and happy fate Will I the country dedicate, And my sad heart will cease to grieve If he the precious charge receive. Thus is my careful plan matured, Thus for myself is rest secured; Lieges, approve the words I say, Or point ye out some wiser way. Devise your prudent plan. My mind Is fondly to this thought inclined, But men by keen debating move Some middle course which all approve."

Two sages, holy saints, had he, His ministers and priests to be: Vasishtha, faithful to advise, And Vamadeva, Scripture-wise. Eight other lords around him stood, All skilled to counsel, wise and good: Jayanta, Vijay, Dhrishti bold In fight, affairs of war controlled: Siddharth and Arthasadhak true Watched o'er expense and revenue, And Dharmapal and wise Asok Of right and law and justice spoke. With these the sage Sumantra, skilled To urge the car, high station filled. All these in knowledge duly trained Each passion and each sense restrained: With modest manners, nobly bred Each plan and nod and look they read, Upon their neighbours' good intent, Most active and benevolent: As sit the Vasus(79) round their king, They sate around him counselling. They ne'er in virtue's loftier pride Another's lowly gifts decried. In fair and seemly garb arrayed, No weak uncertain plans they made. Well skilled in business, fair and just, They gained the people's love and trust, And thus without oppression stored The swelling treasury of their lord. Bound in sweet friendship each to each, They spoke kind thoughts in gentle speech. They looked alike with equal eye On every caste, on low and high. Devoted to their king, they sought, Ere his tongue spoke, to learn his thought, And knew, as each occasion rose, To hide their counsel or disclose. In foreign lands or in their own Whatever passed, to them was known. By secret spies they timely knew What men were doing or would do. Skilled in the grounds of war and peace They saw the monarch's state increase, Watching his weal with conquering eye That never let occasion by, While nature lent her aid to bless Their labours with unbought success. Never for anger, lust, or gain, Would they their lips with falsehood stain. Inclined to mercy they could scan The weakness and the strength of man. They fairly judged both high and low, And ne'er would wrong a guiltless foe; Yet if a fault were proved, each one Would punish e'en his own dear son.

The wise Sumantra, thus addressed, Unfolded at the king's behest The plan the lords in council laid To draw the hermit from the shade: "The priest, amid the lordly crowd, To Lomapad thus spoke aloud: "Hear, King, the plot our thoughts have framed, A harmless trick by all unblamed. Far from the world that hermit's child Lives lonely in the distant wild: A stranger to the joys of sense, His bliss is pain and abstinence; And all unknown are women yet To him, a holy anchoret. The gentle passions we will wake That with resistless influence shake The hearts of men; and he Drawn by enchantment strong and sweet Shall follow from his lone retreat, And come and visit thee. Let ships be formed with utmost care That artificial trees may bear, And sweet fruit deftly made; Let goodly raiment, rich and rare, And flowers, and many a bird be there Beneath the leafy shade. Upon the ships thus decked a band Of young and lovely girls shall stand, Rich in each charm that wakes desire, And eyes that burn with amorous fire; Well skilled to sing, and play, and dance And ply their trade with smile and glance Let these, attired in hermits' dress, Betake them to the wilderness, And bring the boy of life austere A voluntary captive here." He ended; and the king agreed, By the priest's counsel won. And all the ministers took heed To see his bidding done. In ships with wondrous art prepared Away the lovely women fared, And soon beneath the shade they stood Of the wild, lonely, dreary wood. And there the leafy cot they found Where dwelt the devotee, And looked with eager eyes around The hermit's son to see. Still, of Vibhandak sore afraid, They hid behind the creepers' shade. But when by careful watch they knew The elder saint was far from view, With bolder steps they ventured nigh To catch the youthful hermit's eye. Then all the damsels, blithe and gay, At various games began to play.

Then Rama bathed in order due, His mind from worldly thoughts withdrew, And with his large-eyed wife besought Narayan, as a votary ought. Upon his head the brimming cup Of holy oil he lifted up, Then placed within the kindled fire The offering to that heavenly Sire, And as he sipped the remnant prayed To Him for blessing and for aid. Then with still lips and tranquil mind With his Videhan he reclined, In Vishnu's chapel, on a bed Where holy grass was duly spread, While still the prince's every thought The God supreme, Narayan, sought. One watch remained the night to close When Rama from his couch arose, And bade the men and maids adorn His palace for the solemn morn. He heard the bards and heralds raise Auspicious strains of joy and praise; And breathed devout, with voice restrained, The hymn for morning rites ordained; Then, with his head in reverence bowed, Praised Madhu's conquering foe aloud, And, in pure linen robes arrayed, The priests to raise their voices prayed. Obedient to the summons they Proclaimed to all the festal day. The Brahmans' voices, deep and sweet, Resounded through the crowded street, And echoed through Ayodhya went By many a loud-toned instrument. Then all the people joyed to hear That Rama with his consort dear Had fasted till the morning light In preparation for the rite. Swiftly the joyful tidings through Ayodhya's crowded city flew, And soon as dawn appeared, each man To decorate the town began. In all the temples bright and fair As white clouds towering in the air, In streets, and where the cross-ways met, Where holy fig-trees had been set, In open square, in sacred shade, Where merchants' shops their wealth displayed, On all the mansions of the great, And householders of wealth and state, Where'er the people loved to meet, Where'er a tree adorned the street, Gay banners floated to the wind, And ribands round the staves were twined. Then clear the singers' voices rang, As, charming mind and ear, they sang.

While thus Kausalya wept and sighed, With timely words sad Lakshman cried: "O honoured Queen I like it ill That, subject to a woman's will, Rama his royal state should quit And to an exile's doom submit. The aged king, fond, changed, and weak, Will as the queen compels him speak. But why should Rama thus be sent To the wild woods in banishment? No least offence I find in him, I see no fault his fame to dim. Not one in all the world I know, Not outcast wretch, not secret foe, Whose whispering lips would dare assail His spotless life with slanderous tale. Godlike and bounteous, just, sincere, E'en to his very foemen dear: Who would without a cause neglect The right, and such a son reject? And if a king such order gave, In second childhood, passion's slave, What son within his heart would lay The senseless order, and obey? Come, Rama, ere this plot be known Stand by me and secure the throne. Stand like the King who rules below, Stand aided by thy brother's bow: How can the might of meaner men Resist thy royal purpose then? My shafts, if rebels court their fate, Shall lay Ayodhya desolate. Then shall her streets with blood be dyed Of those who stand on Bharat's side: None shall my slaughtering hand exempt, For gentle patience earns contempt. If, by Kaikeyi's counsel changed, Our father's heart be thus estranged, No mercy must our arm restrain, But let the foe be slain, be slain. For should the guide, respected long, No more discerning right and wrong, Turn in forbidden paths to stray, 'Tis meet that force his steps should stay. What power sufficient can he see, What motive for the wish has he, That to Kaikeyi would resign The empire which is justly thine? Can he, O conqueror of thy foes, Thy strength and mine in war oppose? Can he entrust, in our despite, To Bharat's hand thy royal right? I love this brother with the whole Affection of my faithful soul.

Then Sita, best of womankind, Ascended, with a tranquil mind, Soon as her toilet task was done, That chariot brilliant as the sun. Rama and Lakshman true and bold Sprang on the car adorned with gold. The king those years had counted o'er, And given Sita robes and store Of precious ornaments to wear When following her husband there. The brothers in the car found place For nets and weapons of the chase, There warlike arms and mail they laid, A leathern basket and a spade. Soon as Sumantra saw the three Were seated in the chariot, he Urged on each horse of noble breed, Who matched the rushing wind in speed. As thus the son of Raghu went Forth for his dreary banishment, Chill numbing grief the town assailed, All strength grew weak, all spirit failed, Ayodhya through her wide extent Was filled with tumult and lament: Steeds neighed and shook the bells they bore, Each elephant returned a roar. Then all the city, young and old, Wild with their sorrow uncontrolled, Rushed to the car, as, from the sun The panting herds to water run. Before the car, behind, they clung, And there as eagerly they hung, With torrents streaming from their eyes, Called loudly with repeated cries: "Listen, Sumantra: draw thy rein; Drive gently, and thy steeds restrain. Once more on Rama will we gaze, Now to be lost for many days. The queen his mother has, be sure, A heart of iron, to endure To see her godlike Rama go, Nor feel it shattered by the blow. Sita, well done! Videha's pride, Still like his shadow by his side; Rejoicing in thy duty still As sunlight cleaves to Meru's hill. Thou, Lakshman, too, hast well deserved, Who from thy duty hast not swerved, Tending the peer of Gods above, Whose lips speak naught but words of love. Thy firm resolve is nobly great, And high success on thee shall wait. Yea, thou shalt win a priceless meed-- Thy path with him to heaven shall lead."

In kingless realms we ne'er behold Young maidens decked with gems and gold, Flock to the gardens blithe and gay To spend their evening hours in play. No lover in the flying car Rides with his love to woods afar. In kingless lands no wealthy swain Who keeps the herd and reaps the grain, Lies sleeping, blest with ample store, Securely near his open door. Upon the royal roads we see No tusked elephant roaming free, Of three-score years, whose head and neck Sweet tinkling bells of silver deck. We hear no more the glad applause When his strong bow each rival draws, No clap of hands, no eager cries That cheer each martial exercise. In kingless realms no merchant bands Who travel forth to distant lands, With precious wares their wagons load, And fear no danger on the road. No sage secure in self-control, Brooding on God with mind and soul, In lonely wanderings finds his home Where'er at eve his feet may roam. In kingless realms no man is sure He holds his life and wealth secure. In kingless lands no warriors smite The foeman's host in glorious fight. In kingless lands the wise no more, Well trained in Scripture's holy lore, In shady groves and gardens meet To argue in their calm retreat. No longer, in religious fear, Do they who pious vows revere, Bring dainty cates and wreaths of flowers As offerings to the heavenly powers. No longer, bright as trees in spring, Shine forth the children of the king Resplendent in the people's eyes With aloe wood and sandal dyes. A brook where water once has been, A grove where grass no more is green, Kine with no herdsman's guiding hand-- So wretched is a kingless land. The car its waving banner rears, Banner of fire the smoke appears: Our king, the banner of our pride, A God with Gods is glorified. In kingless lands no law is known, And none may call his wealth his own, Each preys on each from hour to hour, As fish the weaker fish devour.

As haply on the boundless main Meet drifting logs and part again, So wives and children, friends and gold, Ours for a little time we hold: Soon by resistless laws of fate To meet no more we separate. In all this changing world not one The common lot of all can shun: Then why with useless tears deplore The dead whom tears can bring no more? As one might stand upon the way And to a troop of travellers say: "If ye allow it, sirs, I too Will travel on the road with you:" So why should mortal man lament When on that path his feet are bent Which all men living needs must tread, Where sire and ancestors have led? Life flies as torrents downward fall Speeding away without recall, So virtue should our thoughts engage, For bliss(382) is mortals' heritage. By ceaseless care and earnest zeal For servants and for people's weal, By gifts, by duty nobly done, Our glorious sire the skies has won. Our lord the king, o'er earth who reigned, A blissful home in heaven has gained By wealth in ample largess spent, And many a rite magnificent: With constant joy from first to last A long and noble life he passed, Praised by the good, no tears should dim Our eyes, O brother dear, for him. His human body, worn and tried By length of days, he cast aside, And gained the godlike bliss to stray In Brahma's heavenly home for aye. For such the wise as we are, deep In Veda lore, should never weep. Those who are firm and ever wise Spurn vain lament and idle sighs. Be self-possessed: thy grief restrain: Go, in that city dwell again. Return, O best of men, and be Obedient to our sire's decree, While I with every care fulfil Our holy father's righteous will, Observing in the lonely wood His charge approved by all the good." Thus Rama of the lofty mind To Bharat spoke his righteous speech, By every argument designed Obedience to his sire to teach.

"How soft the leaves of every tree, How tame each bird and beast we see! Soon the fair home shall we behold Of that great hermit tranquil-souled. The deed the good Agastya wrought High fame throughout the world has bought: I see, I see his calm retreat That balms the pain of weary feet. Where white clouds rise from flames beneath, Where bark-coats lie with many a wreath, Where silvan things, made gentle, throng, And every bird is loud in song. With ruth for suffering creatures filled, A deathlike fiend with might he killed, And gave this southern realm to be A refuge, from oppression free. There stands his home, whose dreaded might Has put the giant crew to flight, Who view with envious eyes afar The peaceful shades they cannot mar. Since that most holy saint has made His dwelling in this lovely shade, Checked by his might the giant brood Have dwelt in peace with souls subdued. And all this southern realm, within Whose bounds no fiend may entrance win, Now bears a name which naught may dim, Made glorious through the worlds by him. When Vindhya, best of hills, would stay The journey of the Lord of Day, Obedient to the saint's behest He bowed for aye his humbled crest. That hoary hermit, world-renowned For holy deeds, within this ground Has set his pure and blessed home, Where gentle silvan creatures roam. Agastya, whom the worlds revere, Pure saint to whom the good are dear, To us his guests all grace will show, Enriched with blessings ere we go. I to this aim each thought will turn, The favour of the saint to earn, That here in comfort may be spent The last years of our banishment. Here sanctities and high saints stand, Gods, minstrels of the heavenly band; Upon Agastya's will they wait, And serve him, pure and temperate. The liar's tongue, the tyrant's mind Within these bounds no home may find: No cheat, no sinner here can be: So holy and so good is he.

Against his judgment sorely pressed By his imperious lord's behest, Maricha threats of death defied And thus with bitter words replied: "Ah, who, my King, with sinful thought This wild and wicked counsel taught, By which destruction soon will fall On thee, thy sons, thy realm and all? Who is the guilty wretch who sees With envious eye thy blissful ease, And by this plan, so falsely shown, Death's gate for thee has open thrown? With souls impelled by mean desire Thy foes against thy life conspire. They urge thee to destruction's brink, And gladly would they see thee sink. Who with base thought to work thee woe This fatal road has dared to show, And, triumph in his wicked eye, Would see thee enter in and die? To all thy counsellors, untrue, The punishment of death is due, Who see thee tempt the dangerous way, Nor strain each nerve thy foot to stay. Wise lords, whose king, by passion led, The path of sin begins to tread, Restrain him while there yet is time: But thine,--they see nor heed the crime. These by their master's will obtain Merit and fame and joy and gain. 'Tis only by their master's grace That servants hold their lofty place. But when the monarch stoops to sin They lose each joy they strive to win, And all the people people high and low Fall in the common overthrow. Merit and fame and honour spring, Best of the mighty, from the king. So all should strive with heart and will To keep the king from every ill. Pride, violence, and sullen hate Will ne'er maintain a monarch's state, And those who cruel deeds advise Must perish when their master dies, Like drivers with their cars o'erthrown In places rough with root and stone. The good whose holy lives were spent On duty's highest laws intent, With wives and children many a time Have perished for another's crime. Hapless are they whose sovereign lord, Opposed to all, by all abhorred, Is cruel-hearted, harsh, severe: Thus might a jackal tend the deer.

When Sagar thus had bowed to fate, The lords and commons of the state Approved with ready heart and will Prince Ansuman his throne to fill. He ruled, a mighty king, unblamed, Sire of Dilipa justly famed. To him, his child and worthy heir, The king resigned his kingdom's care, And on Himalaya's pleasant side His task austere of penance plied. Bright as a God in clear renown He planned to bring pure Ganga down. There on his fruitless hope intent Twice sixteen thousand years he spent, And in the grove of hermits stayed Till bliss in heaven his rites repaid. Dilipa then, the good and great, Soon as he learnt his kinsmen's fate, Bowed down by woe, with troubled mind, Pondering long no cure could find. "How can I bring," the mourner sighed, "To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide? How can I give them rest, and save Their spirits with the offered wave?" Long with this thought his bosom skilled In holy discipline was filled. A son was born, Bhagirath named, Above all men for virtue famed. Dilipa many a rite ordained, And thirty thousand seasons reigned. But when no hope the king could see His kinsmen from their woe to free, The lord of men, by sickness tried, Obeyed the law of fate, and died; He left the kingdom to his son, And gained the heaven his deeds had won. The good Bhagirath, royal sage, Had no fair son to cheer his age. He, great in glory, pure in will, Longing for sons was childless still. Then on one wish, one thought intent, Planning the heavenly stream's descent, Leaving his ministers the care And burden of his state to bear, Dwelling in far Gokarna(194) he Engaged in long austerity. With senses checked, with arms upraised, Five fires(195) around and o'er him blazed. Each weary month the hermit passed Breaking but once his awful fast. In winter's chill the brook his bed, In rain, the clouds to screen his head. Thousands of years he thus endured Till Brahma's favour was assured, And the high Lord of living things Looked kindly on his sufferings.

So Rama kept unshaken still His noble heart with iron will. To his dear brother next he turned, Whose glaring eyes with fury burned, Indignant, panting like a snake, And thus again his counsel spake: "Thine anger and thy grief restrain, And firm in duty's path remain. Dear brother, lay thy scorn aside, And be the right thy joy and pride. Thy ready zeal and thoughtful care To aid what rites should grace the heir,-- These 'tis another's now to ask; Come, gird thee for thy noble task, That Bharat's throning rites may he Graced with the things prepared for me. And with thy gentle care provide That her fond heart, now sorely tried With fear and longing for my sake, With doubt and dread may never ache. To know that thoughts of coming ill One hour that tender bosom fill With agony and dark despair Is grief too great for me to bear. I cannot, brother, call to mind One wilful fault or undesigned, When I have pained in anything My mothers or my sire the king. The right my father keeps in view, In promise, word, and action true; Let him then all his fear dismiss, Nor dread the loss of future bliss. He fears his truth herein will fail: Hence bitter thoughts his heart assail. He trembles lest the rites proceed, And at his pangs my heart should bleed. So now this earnest wish is mine, The consecration to resign, And from this city turn away To the wild wood with no delay. My banishment to-day will free Kaikeyi from her cares, that she, At last contented and elate, May Bharat's throning celebrate. Then will the lady's trouble cease, Then will her heart have joy and peace, When wandering in the wood I wear Deerskin, and bark, and matted hair. Nor shall by me his heart be grieved Whose choice approved, whose mind conceived This counsel which I follow. No, Forth to the forest will I go. 'Tis Fate, Sumitras son, confess, That sends me to the wilderness. 'Tis Fate alone that gives away To other hands the royal sway.

Thus Rama to his brother said; And Lakshman bent his drooping head. In turns by grief and pride impelled, A middle course of thought he held, Then in a frown of anger, bent His brows that chief most excellent, And like a serpent in his hole, Breathed fierce and fast in wrath of soul. His threatening brows so darkly frowned, His eyes so fiercely glanced around, They made his glare, which none might brook, Like some infuriate lion's look. Like some wild elephant, full oft He raised and shook his hand(291) aloft. Now turned his neck to left and right Now bent, now raised its stately height. Now in his rage that sword he felt Which mangling wounds to foemen dealt, With sidelong glance his brother eyed, And thus in burning words replied: "Thy rash resolve, thy eager haste, Thy mighty fear, are all misplaced: No room is here for duty's claim, No cause to dread the people's blame. Can one as brave as thou consent To use a coward's argument? The glory of the Warrior race With craven speech his lips debase? Can one like thee so falsely speak, Exalting Fate, confessed so weak? Canst thou, undoubting still restrain? Suspicions of those sinful twain? Canst thou, most duteous, fail to know Their hearts are set on duty's show? They with deceit have set their trains, And now the fruit rewards their pains. Had they not long ago agreed, O Rama, on this treacherous deed, That promised boon, so long retained, He erst had given and she had gained. I cannot, O my brother, bear To see another throned as heir With rites which all our people hate: Then, O, this passion tolerate. This vaunted duty which can guide Thy steps from wisdom's path aside, And change the counsel of thy breast, O lofty-hearted, I detest. Wilt thou, when power and might are thine, Submit to this abhorred design? Thy father's impious hest fulfil, That vassal of Kaikeyi's will? But if thou still wilt shut thine eyes, Nor see the guile herein that lies, My soul is sad, I deeply mourn, And duty seems a thing to scorn.

O pious soul, if thou decline The empire which is justly thine, Lest, while the king distracted lies, Disorder in the state should rise, I,--or no mansion may I find In worlds to hero souls assigned,-- The guardian of thy realm will be, As the sea-bank protects the sea. Then cast thine idle fears aside: With prosperous rites be sanctified. The lords of earth may strive in vain: My power shall all their force restrain. My pair of arms, my warrior's bow Are not for pride or empty show: For no support these shafts were made; And binding up ill suits my blade: To pierce the foe with deadly breach-- This is the work of all and each. But small, methinks the love I show For him I count my mortal foe. Soon as my trenchant steel is bare, Flashing its lightning through the air, I heed no foe, nor stand aghast Though Indra's self the levin cast. Then shall the ways be hard to pass, Where chariots lie in ruinous mass; When elephant and man and steed Crushed in the murderous onslaught bleed, And legs and heads fall, heap on heap, Beneath my sword's tremendous sweep. Struck by my keen brand's trenchant blade, Thine enemies shall fall dismayed, Like towering mountains rent in twain, Or lightning clouds that burst in rain. When armed with brace and glove I stand, And take my trusty bow in hand, Who then shall vaunt his might? who dare Count him a man to meet me there? Then will I loose my shafts, and strike Man, elephant, and steed alike: At one shall many an arrow fly, And many a foe with one shall die. This day the world my power shall see, That none in arms can rival me: My strength the monarch shall abase, And set thee, lord, in lordliest place. These arms which breathe the sandal's scent, Which golden bracelets ornament, These hands which precious gifts bestow, Which guard the friend and smite the foe, A nobler service shall assay, And fight in Rama's cause to-day, The robbers of thy rights to stay.

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

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

When Ravan, by her fury spurred, That terrible advice had heard, He bade his nobles quit his side, And to the work his thought applied. He turned his anxious mind to scan On every side the hardy plan: The gain against the risk he laid, Each hope and fear with care surveyed, And in his heart at length decreed To try performance of the deed. Then steady in his dire intent The giant to the courtyard went. There to his charioteer he cried, "Bring forth the car whereon I ride." Aye ready at his master's word The charioteer the order heard, And yoked with active zeal the best Of chariots at his lord's behest. Asses with heads of goblins drew That wondrous car where'er it flew. Obedient to the will it rolled Adorned with gems and glistering gold. Then mounting, with a roar as loud As thunder from a labouring cloud, The mighty monarch to the tide Of Ocean, lord of rivers, hied. White was the shade above him spread, White chouris waved around his head, And he with gold and jewels bright Shone like the glossy lazulite. Ten necks and twenty arms had he: His royal gear was good to see. The heavenly Gods' insatiate foe, Who made the blood of hermits flow, He like the Lord of Hills appeared With ten huge heads to heaven upreared. In the great car whereon he rode, Like some dark cloud the giant showed, When round it in their close array The cranes 'mid wreaths of lightning play. He looked, and saw, from realms of air, The rocky shore of ocean, where Unnumbered trees delightful grew With flower and fruit of every hue. He looked on many a lilied pool With silvery waters fresh and cool, And shores like spacious altars meet For holy hermits' lone retreat. The graceful palm adorned the scene, The plantain waved her glossy green. There grew the sal and betel, there On bending boughs the flowers were fair. There hermits dwelt who tamed each sense By strictest rule of abstinence: Gandharvas, Kinnars,(488) thronged the place, Nagas and birds of heavenly race.

"What fame, from one thou hast not slain In front of battle, canst thou gain, Whose secret hand has laid me low When madly fighting with my foe? From every tongue thy glory rings, A scion of a line of kings, True to thy vows, of noblest race, With every gentle gift and grace: Whose tender heart for woe can feel, And joy in every creature's weal: Whose breast with high ambition swells, Knows duty's claim and ne'er rebels. They praise thy valour, patience, ruth, Thy firmness, self-restraint, and truth: Thy hand prepared for sin's control, All virtues of a princely soul. I thought of all these gifts of thine, And glories of an ancient line, I set my Tara's tears at naught, I met Sugriva and we fought. O Rama, till this fatal morn I held that thou wouldst surely scorn To strike me as I fought my foe And thought not of a stranger's blow, But now thine evil heart is shown, A yawning well with grass o'ergrown. Thou wearest virtue's badge,(588) but guile And meanest sin thy soul defile. I took thee not for treacherous fire, A sinner clad in saint's attire; Nor deemed thou idly wouldst profess The show and garb of righteousness. In fenced town, in open land, Ne'er hast thou suffered at this hand, Nor canst of proud contempt complain: Then wherefore is the guiltless slain? My harmless life in woods I lead, On forest fruits and roots I feed. My foeman in the field I sought, And ne'er with thee, O Rama, fought. Upon thy limbs, O King, I see The raiment of a devotee; And how can one like thee, who springs From a proud line of ancient kings, Beneath fair virtue's mask, disgrace His lineage by a deed so base? From Raghu is thy long descent, For duteous deeds preeminent: Why, sinner clad in saintly dress, Roamest thou through the wilderness? Truth, valour, justice free from spot, The hand that gives and grudges not, The might that strikes the sinner down, These bring a prince his best renown. Here in the woods, O King, we live On roots and fruit which branches give.

For hear me, Vanar King, rehearse What Manu(597) spake in ancient verse,-- This holy law, which all accept Who honour duty, have I kept: "Pure grow the sinners kings chastise, And, like the virtuous, gain the skies; By pain or full atonement freed, They reap the fruit of righteous deed, While kings who punish not incur The penalties of those who err." Mandhata(598) once, a noble king, Light of the line from which I spring, Punished with death a devotee When he had stooped to sin like thee; And many a king in ancient time Has punished frantic sinners' crime, And, when their impious blood was spilt, Has washed away the stain of guilt. Cease, Bali, cease: no more complain: Reproaches and laments are vain, For thou art justly punished: we Obey our king and are not free. Once more, O Bali, lend thine ear Another weightiest plea to hear. For this, when heard and pondered well, Will all complaint and rage dispel. My soul will ne'er this deed repent, Nor was my shaft in anger sent. We take the silvan tribes beset With snare and trap and gin and net, And many a heedless deer we smite From thickest shade, concealed from sight. Wild for the slaughter of the game, At stately stags our shafts we aim. We strike them bounding scared away, We strike them as they stand at bay, When careless in the shade they lie, Or scan the plain with watchful eye. They turn away their heads; we aim, And none the eager hunter blame. Each royal saint, well trained in law Of duty, loves his bow to draw And strike the quarry, e'en as thou Hast fallen by mine arrow now, Fighting with him or unaware,-- A Vanar thou.--I little care.(599) But yet, O best of Vanars, know That kings who rule the earth bestow Fruit of pure life and virtuous deed, And lofty duty's hard-won meed. Harm not thy lord the king: abstain From act and word that cause him pain; For kings are children of the skies Who walk this earth in men's disguise.

They looked upon the boundless main The awful seat of Varun's reign. And heard his waters roar and rave Terrific with each crested wave. Then, in the depths of sorrow drowned, They sat upon the bosky ground, And sadly, as they pondered, grieved For days gone by and naught achieved. Pain pierced them through with sharper sting When, gazing on the trees of spring, They saw each waving bough that showed The treasures of its glorious load, And helpless, fainting with the weight Of woe they sank disconsolate. Then, lion-shouldered, stout and strong, The noblest of the Vanar throng, Angad the prince imperial rose, And, deeply stricken by the woes That his impetuous spirit broke, Thus gently to the chieftains spoke: "Mark ye not, Vanars, that the day Our monarch fixed has passed away? The month is lost in toil and pain, And now, my friends, what hopes remain? On you, in lore of counsel tried, Our king Sugriva most relied. Your hearts, with strong affection fraught, His weal in every labour sought, And the true valour of your band Was blazoned wide in every land. Forth on the toilsome search you sped, By me--for so he willed it--led, To us, of every hope bereft, Death is the only refuge left. For none a happy life may see Who fails to do our king's decree. Come, let us all from food abstain, And perish thus, since hope is vain. Stern is our king and swift to ire, Imperious, proud, and fierce like fire, And ne'er will pardon us the crime Of fruitless search and wasted time. Far better thus to end our lives, And leave our wealth, our homes and wives, Leave our dear little ones and all, Than by his vengeful hand to fall. Think not Sugriva's wrath will spare Me Bali's son, imperial heir: For Raghu's royal son, not he, To this high place anointed me. Sugriva, long my bitter foe, With eager hand will strike the blow, And, mindful of the old offence, Will slay me now for negligence, Nor will my pitying friends have power To save me in the deadly hour.

"What truth or justice canst thou find," Cried Angad, "in Sugriva's mind? Where is his high and generous soul, His purity and self-control? How is he worthy of our trust, Righteous, and true, and wise, and just, Who, shrinking not from sin and shame, Durst take his living brother's dame? Who, when, in stress of mortal strife His noble brother fought for life, Against the valiant warrior barred The portal which he stood to guard? Can he be grateful--he who took The hand of Rama, and forsook That friend who saved him in his woes, To whom his life and fame he owes? Ah no! his heart is cold and mean, What bids him search for Rama's queen? Not honour's law, not friendship's debt, But angry Lakshman's timely threat. No prudent heart will ever place Its trust in one so false and base, Who heeds not friendship, kith or kin, Who scorns the law and cleaves to sin. But true or false, whate'er he be, One consequence I clearly see; Me, in my youth anointed heir Against his wish, he will not spare, But strike with eager hand the blow That rids him of a household foe. Shall I of power and friends despoiled, In all my purpose crossed and foiled,-- Shall I Kishkindha seek, and wait, Like some poor helpless thing, my fate? The cruel wretch through lust of sway Will seize upon his hapless prey, And to a prison's secret gloom The remnant of my years will doom. 'Tis better far to fast and die Than hopeless bound in chains to lie, Your steps, O Vanars, homeward bend And leave me here my life to end. Better to die of hunger here Than meet at home the fate I fear. Go, bow you at Sugriva's feet, And in my name the monarch greet. Before the sons of Raghu bend, And give the greeting that I send. Greet kindly Ruma too, for she A son's affection claims from me, And gently calm with friendly care My mother Tara's wild despair; Or when she hears her darling's fate The queen will die disconsolate."

By chaste and holy vows restrained, By reverend teachers duly trained. When he his virtue's fruit should taste He falls by sin and woe disgraced." Two words will all his answer be When I pronounce the stern decree, "Hence, Rama, to the woods away," All he will say is, I obey. O, if he would my will withstand When banished from his home and land, This were a comfort in my woe; But he will ne'er do this, I know. My Rama to the forest fled, And curses thick upon my head, Grim Death will bear me hence away, His world-abominated prey. When I am gone and Rama too. How wilt thou those I love pursue? What vengeful sin will be designed Against the queens I leave behind? When thou hast slain her son and me Kausalya soon will follow: she Will sink beneath her sorrows' weight, And die like me disconsolate. Exist, Kaikeyi, in thy pride, And let thy heart be gratified, When thou my queens and me hast hurled, And children, to the under world. Soon wilt thou rule as empress o'er My noble house unvext before. But then to wild confusion left, Of Rama and of me bereft. If Bharat to thy plan consent And long for Rama's banishment, Ne'er let his hands presume to pay The funeral honours to my clay. Vile foe, thou cause of all mine ill, Obtain at last thy cursed will. A widow soon shalt thou enjoy The sweets of empire with thy boy. O Princess, sure some evil fate First brought thee here to devastate, In whom the night of ruin lies Veiled in a consort's fair disguise. The scorn of all and deepest shame Will long pursue my hated name, And dire disgrace on me will press, Misled by thee to wickedness. How shall my Rama, whom, before, His elephant or chariot bore, Now with his feet, a wanderer, tread The forest wilds around him spread? How shall my son, to please whose taste, The deftest cooks, with earrings graced, With rivalry and jealous care The dainty meal and cates prepare-- How shall he now his life sustain With acid fruit and woodland grain?

Then Rama, smitten with the pain His heaving heart could scarce restrain, Groaned like an elephant and strode With Lakshman to the queen's abode. A warder there, whose hoary eld In honour high by all was held, Guarding the mansion, sat before The portal, girt with many more. Swift to their feet the warders sprang, And loud the acclamation rang, Hail, Rama! as to him they bent, Of victor chiefs preeminent. One court he passed, and in the next Saw, masters of each Veda text, A crowd of Brahmans, good and sage, Dear to the king for lore and age. To these he bowed his reverent head, Thence to the court beyond he sped. Old dames and tender girls, their care To keep the doors, were stationed there. And all, when Rama came in view, Delighted to the chamber flew, To bear to Queen Kausalya's ear The tidings that she loved to hear. The queen, on rites and prayer intent, In careful watch the night had spent, And at the dawn, her son to aid, To Vishnu holy offerings made. Firm in her vows, serenely glad, In robes of spotless linen clad, As texts prescribe, with grace implored, Her offerings in the fire she poured. Within her splendid bower he came, And saw her feed the sacred flame. There oil, and grain, and vases stood, With wreaths, and curds, and cates, and wood, And milk, and sesamum, and rice, The elements of sacrifice. She, worn and pale with many a fast And midnight hours in vigil past, In robes of purest white arrayed, To Lakshmi Queen drink-offerings paid. So long away, she flew to meet The darling of her soul: So runs a mare with eager feet To welcome back her foal. He with his firm support upheld The queen, as near she drew, And, by maternal love impelled, Her arms around him threw. Her hero son, her matchless boy She kissed upon the head: She blessed him in her pride and joy With tender words, and said: "Be like thy royal sires of old, The nobly good, the lofty-souled! Their lengthened days and fame be thine, And virtue, as beseems thy line!

While fires of woe consumed her, such Her sad appeal, lamenting much; Then with a wild cry, anguish-wrung, About her husband's neck she clung. Like some she-elephant who bleeds Struck by the hunter's venomed reeds, So in her quivering heart she felt The many wounds his speeches dealt. Then, as the spark from wood is gained,(305) Down rolled the tear so long restrained: The crystal moisture, sprung from woe, From her sweet eyes began to flow, As runs the water from a pair Of lotuses divinely fair. And Sita's face with long dark eyes, Pure as the moon of autumn skies, Faded with weeping, as the buds Of lotuses when sink the floods. Around his wife his arms he strained, Who senseless from her woe remained, And with sweet words, that bade her wake To life again, the hero spake: "I would not with thy woe, my Queen, Buy heaven and all its blissful sheen. Void of all fear am I as He, The self-existent God, can be. I knew not all thy heart till now, Dear lady of the lovely brow, So wished not thee in woods to dwell; Yet there mine arm can guard thee well. Now surely thou, dear love, wast made To dwell with me in green wood shade. And, as a high saint's tender mind Clings to its love for all mankind, So I to thee will ever cling, Sweet daughter of Videha's king. The good, of old, O soft of frame, Honoured this duty's sovereign claim, And I its guidance will not shun, True as light's Queen is to the Sun. I cannot, pride of Janak's line, This journey to the wood decline: My sire's behest, the oath he sware, The claims of truth, all lead me there. One duty, dear the same for aye, Is sire and mother to obey: Should I their orders once transgress My very life were weariness. If glad obedience be denied To father, mother, holy guide, What rites, what service can be done That stern Fate's favour may be won? These three the triple world comprise, O darling of the lovely eyes. Earth has no holy thing like these Whom with all love men seek to please.

Soon as the shades of night had fled, Thus to the wise Sumantra said The happy king, while priest and peer, Each in his place, were standing near: "Let all my treasurers to-day, Set foremost in the long array, With gold and precious gems supplied In bounteous store, together ride. And send you out a mighty force, Foot, chariot, elephant, and horse. Besides, let many a car of state, And noblest steeds, my will await. Vasishtha, Vamadeva sage, And Markandeya's reverend age, Javali, Kasyap's godlike seed, And wise Katyayana, shall lead. Thy care, Sumantra, let it be To yoke a chariot now for me, That so we part without delay: These envoys hasten me away."

He knew the means that wealth provide, And with keen eye expense could guide. Wild elephants could he reclaim, And mettled steeds could mount and tame. No arm like his the bow could wield, Or drive the chariot to the field. Skilled to attack, to deal the blow, Or lead a host against the foe: Yea, e'en infuriate Gods would fear To meet his arm in full career. As the great sun in noontide blaze Is glorious with his world of rays, So Rama with these virtues shone Which all men loved to gaze upon.

Thus goaded, like a generous steed Urged by sharp spurs to double speed, "My senses are astray," he cried, "And duty's bonds my hands have tied. I long to see mine eldest son, My virtuous, my beloved one."

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