Ramayana on Strength

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."

But how to bring that wondrous boy His troubled thoughts will long employ, And hopeless to achieve the task He counsel of his lords will ask, And bid his priests and servants bring With honour saintly Rishyasring. But when they hear the monarch's speech, All these their master will beseech, With trembling hearts and looks of woe, To spare them, for they fear to go. And many a plan will they declare And crafty plots will frame, And promise fair to show him there, Unforced, with none to blame. On every word his lords shall say, The king will meditate, And on the third returning day Recall them to debate. Then this shall be the plan agreed, That damsels shall be sent Attired in holy hermits' weed, And skilled in blandishment, That they the hermit may beguile With every art and amorous wile Whose use they know so well, And by their witcheries seduce The unsuspecting young recluse To leave his father's cell. Then when the boy with willing feet Shall wander from his calm retreat And in that city stand, The troubles of the king shall end, And streams of blessed rain descend Upon the thirsty land. Thus shall the holy Rishyasring To Lomapad, the mighty king, By wedlock be allied; For Santa, fairest of the fair, In mind and grace beyond compare, Shall be his royal bride. He, at the Offering of the Steed, The flames with holy oil shall feed, And for King Dasaratha gain Sons whom his prayers have begged in vain." "I have repeated, Sire, thus far, The words of old Sanatkumar, In order as he spoke them then Amid the crowd of holy men." Then Dasaratha cried with joy, "Say how they brought the hermit boy."

Then thus to King Bhagirath said Brahma, when, coming at the head Of all his bright celestial train, He saw those spirits freed from stain: "Well done! great Prince of men, well done! Thy kinsmen bliss and heaven have won. The sons of Sagar mighty-souled, Are with the Blest, as Gods, enrolled, Long as the Ocean's flood shall stand Upon the border of the land, So long shall Sagar's sons remain, And, godlike, rank in heaven retain. Ganga thine eldest child shall be, Called from thy name Bhagirathi; Named also--for her waters fell From heaven and flow through earth and hell-- Tripathaga, stream of the skies, Because three paths she glorifies. And, mighty King, 'tis given thee now To free thee and perform thy vow. No longer, happy Prince, delay Drink-offerings to thy kin to pay. For this the holiest Sagar sighed, But mourned the boon he sought denied. Then Ansuman, dear Prince! although No brighter name the world could show, Strove long the heavenly flood to gain To visit earth, but strove in vain. Nor was she by the sages' peer, Blest with all virtues, most austere, Thy sire Dilipa, hither brought, Though with fierce prayers the boon he sought. But thou, O King, earned success, And won high fame which God will bless. Through thee, O victor of thy foes, On earth this heavenly Ganga flows, And thou hast gained the meed divine That waits on virtue such as thine. Now in her ever holy wave Thyself, O best of heroes, lave: So shalt thou, pure from every sin, The blessed fruit of merit win. Now for thy kin who died of yore The meet libations duly pour. Above the heavens I now ascend: Depart, and bliss thy steps attend."

Like Vasav, when his glorious form Is circled by the Gods of storm, Girt in his hall by kings he saw His car-borne Rama near him draw, Like him who rules the minstrel band Of heaven;(262) whose valour filled the land, Of mighty arm and stately pride Like a wild elephant in stride, As fair in face as that fair stone Dear to the moon, of moonbeams grown,(263) With noble gifts and grace that took The hearts of all, and chained each look, World-cheering as the Lord of Rain When floods relieve the parching plain. The father, as the son came nigh, Gazed with an ever-thirstier eye. Sumantra helped the prince alight From the good chariot passing bright, And as to meet his sire he went Followed behind him reverent. Then Rama clomb, the king to seek That terrace like Kailasa's peak, And reached the presence of the king, Sumantra closely following. Before his father's face he came, Raised suppliant hands and named his name,(264) And bowing lowly as is meet Paid reverence to the monarch's feet. But soon as Dasaratha viewed The prince in humble attitude, He raised him by the hand in haste And his beloved son embraced, Then signed him to a glorious throne, Gem-decked and golden, near his own. Then Rama, best of Raghu's line, Made the fair seat with lustre shine As when the orient sun upsprings And his pure beam on Meru flings. The glory flashed on roof and wall, And with strange sheen suffused the hall, As when the moon's pure rays are sent Through autumn's star-lit firmament. Then swelled his breast with joy and pride As his dear son the father eyed, E'en as himself more fair arrayed In some clear mirror's face displayed.

He looked upon the pile where lay The bones half-burnt and ashes grey, And uttering a piteous moan, Gave way, by anguish overthrown. Then as his tears began to well, Prostrate to earth the hero fell; So from its seat the staff they drag, And cast to earth some glorious flag. The ministers approached again The prince whom rites had freed from stain; So when Yayati fell, each seer, In pity for his fate, drew near. Satrughna saw him lying low O'erwhelmed beneath the crush of woe, And as upon the king he thought, He fell upon the earth distraught. When to his loving memory came Those noble gifts, that kingly frame, He sorrowed, by his woe distressed, As one by frenzied rage possessed: "Ah me, this surging sea of woe Has drowned us with its overflow: The source is Manthara, dire and dark, Kaikeyi is the ravening shark: And the great boons the monarch gave Lend conquering might to every wave. Ah, whither wilt thou go, and leave Thy Bharat in his woe to grieve, Whom ever 'twas thy greatest joy To fondle as a tender boy? Didst thou not give with thoughtful care Our food, our drink, our robes to wear? Whose love will now for us provide, When thou, our king and sire, hast died? At such a time bereft, forlorn, Why is not earth in sunder torn, Missing her monarch's firm control, His love of right, his lofty soul? Ah me, for Rama roams afar, My sire is where the Blessed are; How can I live deserted? I Will pass into the fire and die. Abandoned thus, I will not brook Upon Ayodhya's town to look, Once guarded by Ikshvaku's race: The wood shall be my dwelling place."

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."

He spoke, and ere his speech was done, His chariot glittering like the sun, Yoked and announced, by Dushan's care, With dappled steeds was ready there. High as a peak from Meru rent It burned with golden ornament: The pole of lazulite, of gold Were the bright wheels whereon it rolled. With gold and moonstone blazoned o'er, Fish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore; Auspicious birds embossed thereon, And stars in costly emblem shone. O'er flashing swords his banner hung, And sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung. That mighty host with sword and shield And oar was ready for the field: And Khara saw, and Dushan cried, "Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride." Then banners waved, and shield and sword Flashed as the host obeyed its lord. From Janasthan they sallied out With eager speed, and din, and shout, Armed with the mace for close attacks, The bill, the spear, the battle-axe, Steel quoit and club that flashed afar, Huge bow and sword and scimitar, The dart to pierce, the bolt to strike, The murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike. So forth from Janasthan, intent On Khara's will, the monsters went. He saw their awful march: not far Behind the host he drove his car. Ware of his master's will, to speed The driver urged each gold-decked steed. Then forth the warrior's coursers sprang, And with tumultuous murmur rang Each distant quarter of the sky And realms that intermediate lie. High and more high within his breast His pride triumphant rose, While terrible as Death he pressed Onward to slay his foes, "More swiftly yet," as on they fled, He cried in thundering tones Loud as a cloud that overhead Hails down a flood of stones.

The guardian goddess thus subdued, The Vanar chief his way pursued, And reached the broad imperial street Where fresh-blown flowers were bright and sweet. The city seemed a fairer sky Where cloud-like houses rose on high, Whence the soft sound of tabors came Through many a latticed window frame, And ever and anon rang out The merry laugh and joyous shout. From house to house the Vanar went And marked each varied ornament, Where leaves and blossoms deftly strung About the crystal columns hung. Then soft and full and sweet and clear The song of women charmed his ear, And, blending with their dulcet tones, Their anklets' chime and tinkling zones. He heard the Rakshas minstrel sing The praises of their matchless king; And softly through the evening air Came murmurings of text and prayer. Here moved a priest with tonsured head, And there an eager envoy sped, Mid crowds with hair in matted twine Clothed in the skins of deer and kine,-- Whose only arms, which none might blame, Were blades of grass and holy flame(806) There savage warriors roamed in bands With clubs and maces in their hands, Some dwarfish forms, some huge of size, With single ears and single eyes. Some shone in glittering mail arrayed With bow and mace and flashing blade; Fiends of all shapes and every hue, Some fierce and foul, some fair to view. He saw the grisly legions wait In strictest watch at Ravan's gate, Whose palace on the mountain crest Rose proudly towering o'er the rest, Fenced with high ramparts from the foe, And lotus-covered moats below. But Hanuman, unhindered, found Quick passage through the guarded bound, Mid elephants of noblest breed, And gilded car and neighing steed.

"Better with foes thy dwelling make, Or house thee with the venomed snake, Than live with false familiar friends Who further still thy foeman's ends. I know their treacherous mood, I know Their secret triumph at thy woe. They in their inward hearts despise The brave, the noble, and the wise, Grieve at their bliss with rancorous hate, And for their sorrows watch and wait: Scan every fault with curious eye, And each slight error magnify. Ask elephants who roam the wild How were their captive friends beguiled. "For fire," they cry, "we little care, For javelin and shaft and snare: Our foes are traitors, taught to bind The trusting creatures of their kind." Still, still, shall blessings flow from cows,(926) And Brahmans love their rigorous vows; Still woman change her restless will, And friends perfidious work us ill. What though with conquering feet I tread On every prostrate foeman's head; What though the worlds in abject fear Their mighty lord in me revere? This thought my peace of mind destroys And robs me of expected joys. The lotus of the lake receives The glittering rain that gems its leaves, But each bright drop remains apart: So is it still with heart and heart. Deceitful as an autumn cloud Which, though its thunderous voice be loud, On the dry earth no torrent sends, Such is the race of faithless friends. No riches of the bloomy spray Will tempt the wandering bee to stay That loves from flower to flower to range; And friends like thee are swift to change. Thou blot upon thy glorious line, If any giant's tongue but thine Had dared to give this base advice, He should not live to shame me twice."

There lived a sage called Chuli then, Devoutest of the sons of men; His days in penance rites he spent, A glorious saint, most continent. To him absorbed in tasks austere The child of Urmila drew near, Sweet Somada, the heavenly maid And lent the saint her pious aid. Long time near him the maiden spent, And served him meek and reverent, Till the great hermit, pleased with her, Thus spoke unto his minister: "Grateful am I for all thy care: Blest maiden, speak, thy wish declare." The sweet-voiced nymph rejoiced to see The favour of the devotee, And to that eloquent old man, Most eloquent she thus began: "Thou hast, by heavenly grace sustained, Close union with the Godhead gained. I long, O Saint, to see a son By force of holy penance won. Unwed, a maiden life I live: A son to me, thy suppliant, give." The saint with favour heard her prayer, And gave a son exceeding fair. Him, Chuli's spiritual child, His mother Brahmadatta(175) styled. King Brahmadatta, rich and great, In Kampili maintained his state, Ruling, like Indra in his bliss, His fortunate metropolis. King Kusanabha planned that he His hundred daughters' lord should be. To him, obedient to his call, The happy monarch gave them all. Like Indra then he took the hand Of every maiden of the band. Soon as the hand of each young maid In Brahmadatta's palm was laid, Deformity and cares away, She shone in beauty bright and gay. Their freedom from the Wind-God's might Saw Kusanabha with delight. Each glance that on their forms he threw Filled him with raptures ever new. Then when the rites were all complete, With highest marks of honour meet The bridegroom with his brides he sent To his great seat of government.

The cloudless sky was all aflame With the light of a hundred suns Where'er the shining chariots came That bore those holy ones. So flashed the air with crested snakes And fish of every hue As when the lightning's glory breaks Through fields of summer blue. And white foam-clouds and silver spray Were wildly tossed on high, Like swans that urge their homeward way Across the autumn sky. Now ran the river calm and clear With current strong and deep: Now slowly broadened to a mere, Or scarcely seemed to creep. Now o'er a length of sandy plain Her tranquil course she held; Now rose her waves and sank again, By refluent waves repelled. So falling first on Siva's head, Thence rushing to their earthly bed, In ceaseless fall the waters streamed, And pure with holy lustre gleamed. Then every spirit, sage, and bard, Condemned to earth by sentence hard, Pressed eagerly around the tide That Siva's touch had sanctified. Then they whom heavenly doom had hurled, Accursed, to this lower world, Touched the pure wave, and freed from sin Resought the skies and entered in. And all the world was glad, whereon The glorious water flowed and shone, For sin and stain were banished thence By the sweet river's influence. First, in a car of heavenly frame, The royal saint of deathless name, Bhagirath, very glorious rode, And after him fair Ganga flowed. God, sage, and bard, the chief in place Of spirits and the Naga race, Nymph, giant, fiend, in long array Sped where Bhagirath led the way; And all the hosts the flood that swim Followed the stream that followed him. Where'er the great Bhagirath led, There ever glorious Ganga fled, The best of floods, the rivers' queen, Whose waters wash the wicked clean.

With fiercer words she fiercer yet The hapless father's pleading met: "O Monarch, if thy soul repent The promise and thy free consent, How wilt thou in the world maintain Thy fame for truth unsmirched with stain? When gathered kings with thee converse, And bid thee all the tale rehearse, What wilt thou say, O truthful King, In answer to their questioning? "She to whose love my life I owe, Who saved me smitten by the foe, Kaikeyi, for her tender care, Was cheated of the oath I sware." Thus wilt thou answer, and forsworn Wilt draw on thee the princes' scorn. Learn from that tale, the Hawk and Dove,(275) How strong for truth was Saivya's love. Pledged by his word the monarch gave His flesh the suppliant bird to save. So King Alarka gave his eyes, And gained a mansion in the skies. The Sea himself his promise keeps, And ne'er beyond his limit sweeps. My deeds of old again recall, Nor let thy bond dishonoured fall. The rights of truth thou wouldst forget, Thy Rama on the throne to set, And let thy days in pleasure glide, Fond King, Kausalya by thy side. Now call it by what name thou wilt, Justice, injustice, virtue, guilt, Thy word and oath remain the same, And thou must yield what thus I claim. If Rama be anointed, I This very day will surely die, Before thy face will poison drink, And lifeless at thy feet will sink. Yea, better far to die than stay Alive to see one single day The crowds before Kausalya stand And hail her queen with reverent hand. Now by my son, myself, I swear, No gift, no promise whatsoe'er My steadfast soul shall now content, But only Rama's banishment."

And Bharat heard Vasishtha's rede With due attention and agreed. He summoned straight from every side Chaplain, and priest, and holy guide. The sacred fires he bade them bring Forth from the chapel of the king, Wherein the priests in order due, And ministers, the offerings threw. Distraught in mind, with sob and tear, They laid the body on a bier, And servants, while their eyes brimmed o'er The monarch from the palace bore. Another band of mourners led The long procession of the dead: Rich garments in the way they cast, And gold and silver, as they passed. Then other hands the corse bedewed With fragrant juices that exude From sandal, cedar, aloe, pine, And every perfume rare and fine. Then priestly hands the mighty dead Upon the pyre deposited. The sacred fires they tended next, And muttered low each funeral text; And priestly singers who rehearse The Saman(352) sang their holy verse. Forth from the town in litters came, Or chariots, many a royal dame, And honoured so the funeral ground, With aged followers ringed around. With steps in inverse order bent,(353) The priests in sad procession went Around the monarch's burning pyre Who well had nursed each sacred fire: With Queen Kausalya and the rest, Their tender hearts with woe distressed. The voice of women, shrill and clear As screaming curlews, smote the ear, As from a thousand voices rose The shriek that tells of woman's woes. Then weeping, faint, with loud lament, Down Sarju's shelving bank they went. There standing on the river side With Bharat, priest, and peer, Their lips the women purified With water fresh and clear. Returning to the royal town, Their eyes with tear-drops filled, Ten days on earth they laid them down, And wept till grief was stilled.

When Rama heard from Bharat each Dark sorrow of his mournful speech, And tidings of his father dead, His spirits fell, his senses fled. For the sad words his brother spoke Struck on him like a thunder stroke, Fierce as the bolt which Indra throws, The victor of his Daitya foes. Raising his arms in anguish, he, As when the woodman hews a tree With its fair flowery branches crowned, Fainted and fell upon the ground. Lord of the earth to earth he sank, Helpless, as when a towering bank With sudden ruin buries deep An elephant who lay asleep. Then swift his wife and brothers flew, And water, weeping, o'er him threw. As slowly sense and strength he gained, Fast from his eyes the tears he rained, And then in accents sad and weak Kakutstha's son began to speak, And mourning for the monarch dead, With righteous words to Bharat said: "What calls me home, when he, alas, Has gone the way which all must pass? Of him, the best of kings bereft What guardian has Ayodhya left? How may I please his spirit? how Delight the high-souled monarch now, Who wept for me and went above By me ungraced with mourning love? Ah, happy brothers! you have paid Due offerings to his parting shade. E'en when my banishment is o'er, Back to my home I go no more, To look upon the widowed state Reft of her king, disconsolate. E'en then, O tamer of the foe, If to Ayodhya's town I go, Who will direct me as of old, Now other worlds our father hold? From whom, my brother, shall I hear Those words which ever charmed mine ear And filled my bosom with delight Whene'er he saw me act aright?"

"What foe in friendly guise is he Who spoke of Sita's name to thee? Who is the wretch whose thought would bring Destruction on the giants' king? Whose is the evil counsel, say, That bids thee bear his wife away, And careless of thy life provoke Earth's loftiest with threatening stroke? A foe is he who dared suggest This hopeless folly to thy breast, Whose ill advice would bid thee draw The venomed fang from serpent's jaw. By whose unwise suggestion led Wilt thou the path of ruin tread? Whence falls the blow that would destroy Thy gentle sleep of ease and joy? Like some wild elephant is he That rears his trunk on high, Lord of an ancient pedigree, Huge tusks, and furious eye. Ravan, no rover of the night With bravest heart can brook, Met in the front of deadly fight, On Raghu's son to look. The giant hosts were brave and strong, Good at the bow and spear: But Rama slew the routed throng, A lion 'mid the deer. No lion's tooth can match his sword, Or arrows fiercely shot: He sleeps, he sleeps--the lion lord; Be wise and rouse him not. O Monarch of the giants, well Upon my counsel think, Lest thou for ever in the hell Of Rama's vengeance sink: A hell, where deadly shafts are sent From his tremendous-bow, While his great arms all flight prevent, Like deepest mire below: Where the wild floods of battle rave Above the foeman's head, And each with many a feathery wave Of shafts is garlanded. O, quench the flames that in thy breast With raging fury burn; And pacified and self-possessed To Lanka's town return. Rest thou in her imperial bowers With thine own wives content, And in the wood let Rama's hours With Sita still be spent."

Then Jambumali, pride and boast For valour of the Rakshas host, Prahasta's son supremely brave, Obeyed the hest that Ravan gave: Fierce warrior with terrific teeth, With saguine robes and brilliant wreath. A bow like Indra's own(874), and store Of glittering shafts the chieftain bore. And ever as the string he tried The weapon with a roar replied, Loud as the crashing thunder sent By him who rules the firmament. Soon as the foeman came in view Borne on a car which asses drew, The Vanar chieftain mighty-voiced Shouted in triumph and rejoiced. Prahasta's son his bow-string drew, And swift the winged arrows flew, One in the face the Vanar smote, Another quivered in his throat. Ten from the deadly weapon sent His brawny arms and shoulders rent. Then as he felt each galling shot The Vanar's rage waxed fiercely hot. He looked, and saw a mass of stone That lay before his feet o'erthrown. The mighty block he raised and threw, And crashing through the air it flew. But Jambumali shunned the blow, And rained fresh arrows from his bow. The Vanar's limbs were red with gore: A Sal tree from the earth he tore, And, ere he hurled it undismayed, Above his head the missile swayed. But shafts from Jambumali's bow Cut through it ere his hand could throw. And thigh and arm and chest and side With streams of rushing blood were dyed. Still unsubdued though wounded oft The shattered trunk he raised aloft, And down with well-directed aim On Jambumali's chest it came. There crushed upon the trampled grass He lay an undistinguished mass, The foeman's eye no more could see His head or chest or arm or knee. And bow and car and steeds(875) and store Of glittering shafts were seen no more.

These soothing words the ladies said. And pressed their lips upon her head. Each gave with sighs her last adieu, Then at the king's command withdrew. The king around the hermit went With circling footsteps reverent, And placed at Rishyasring's command Some soldiers of his royal band. The Brahman bowed in turn and cried, "May fortune never leave thy side. O mighty King, with justice reign, And still thy people's love retain." He spoke, and turned away his face, And, as the hermit went, The monarch, rooted to the place, Pursued with eyes intent. But when the sage had past from view King Dasaratha turned him too, Still fixing on his friend each thought. With such deep love his breast was fraught. Amid his people's loud acclaim Home to his royal seat he came, And lived delighted there, Expecting when each queenly dame, Upholder of his ancient fame, Her promised son should bear. The glorious sage his way pursued Till close before his eyes he viewed Sweet Champa, Lomapad's fair town, Wreathed with her Champacs'(126) leafy crown. Soon as the saint's approach he knew, The king, to yield him honour due, Went forth to meet him with a band Of priests and nobles of the land: "Hail, Sage," he cried, "O joy to me! What bliss it is, my lord, to see Thee with thy wife and all thy train Returning to my town again. Thy father, honoured Sage, is well, Who hither from his woodland cell Has sent full many a messenger For tidings both of thee and her." Then joyfully, for due respect, The monarch bade the town be decked. The king and Rishyasring elate Entered the royal city's gate: In front the chaplain rode. Then, loved and honoured with all care By monarch and by courtier, there The glorious saint abode.

The seasons six in rapid flight Had circled since that glorious rite. Eleven months had passed away; 'Twas Chaitra's ninth returning day.(130) The moon within that mansion shone Which Aditi looks kindly on. Raised to their apex in the sky Five brilliant planets beamed on high. Shone with the moon, in Cancer's sign, Vrihaspati(131) with light divine. Kausalya bore an infant blest With heavenly marks of grace impressed; Rama, the universe's lord, A prince by all the worlds adored. New glory Queen Kausalya won Reflected from her splendid son. So Aditi shone more and more, The Mother of the Gods, when she The King of the Immortals(132) bore, The thunder-wielding deity. The lotus-eyed, the beauteous boy, He came fierce Ravan to destroy; From half of Vishnu's vigour born, He came to help the worlds forlorn. And Queen Kaikeyi bore a child Of truest valour, Bharat styled, With every princely virtue blest, One fourth of Vishnu manifest. Sumitra too a noble pair, Called Lakshman and Satrughna, bare, Of high emprise, devoted, true, Sharers in Vishnu's essence too. 'Neath Pushya's(133) mansion, Mina's(134) sign, Was Bharat born, of soul benign. The sun had reached the Crab at morn When Queen Sumitra's babes were born, What time the moon had gone to make His nightly dwelling with the Snake. The high-souled monarch's consorts bore At different times those glorious four, Like to himself and virtuous, bright As Proshthapada's(135) four-fold light. Then danced the nymphs' celestial throng, The minstrels raised their strain; The drums of heaven pealed loud and long, And flowers came down in rain. Within Ayodhya, blithe and gay, All kept the joyous holiday. The spacious square, the ample road With mimes and dancers overflowed, And with the voice of music rang Where minstrels played and singers sang, And shone, a wonder to behold, With dazzling show of gems and gold.

Soon as each babe was twelve days old 'Twas time the naming rite to hold. When Saint Vasishtha, rapt with joy, Assigned a name to every boy. Rama, to him the high-souled heir, Bharat, to him Kaikeyi bare: Of Queen Sumitra one fair son Was Lakshman, and Satrughna(136) one Rama, his sire's supreme delight, Like some proud banner cheered his sight, And to all creatures seemed to be The self-existent deity. All heroes, versed in holy lore, To all mankind great love they bore. Fair stores of wisdom all possessed, With princely graces all were blest. But mid those youths of high descent, With lordly light preeminent. Like the full moon unclouded, shone Rama, the world's dear paragon. He best the elephant could guide.(137) Urge the fleet car, the charger ride: A master he of bowman's skill, Joying to do his father's will. The world's delight and darling, he Loved Lakshman best from infancy And Lakshman, lord of lofty fate, Upon his elder joyed to wait, Striving his second self to please With friendship's sweet observances. His limbs the hero ne'er would rest Unless the couch his brother pressed; Except beloved Rama shared He could not taste the meal prepared. When Rama, pride of Reghu's race, Sprang on his steed to urge the chase, Behind him Lakshman loved to go And guard him with his trusty bow. As Rama was to Lakshman dear More than his life and ever near, So fond Satrughna prized above His very life his Bharat's love. Illustrious heroes, nobly kind In mutual love they all combined, And gave their royal sire delight With modest grace and warrior might: Supported by the glorious four Shone Dasaratha more and more, As though, with every guardian God Who keeps the land and skies, The Father of all creatures trod The earth before men's eyes.

So through the crowded inner door Sumantra, skilled in ancient lore, On to the private chambers pressed Which stood apart from all the rest. There youthful warriors, true and bold, Whose ears were ringed with polished gold, All armed with trusty bows and darts, Watched with devoted eyes and hearts. And hoary men, a faithful train, Whose aged hands held staves of cane, The ladies' guard, apparelled fair In red attire, were stationed there. Soon as they saw Sumantra nigh, Each longed his lord to gratify, And from his seat beside the door Up sprang each ancient servitor. Then to the warders quickly cried The skilled Sumantra, void of pride: "Tell Rama that the charioteer Sumantra waits for audience here." The ancient men with one accord Seeking the pleasure of their lord, Passing with speed the chamber door To Rama's ear the message bore. Forthwith the prince with duteous heed Called in the messenger with speed, For 'twas his sire's command, he knew, That sent him for the interview. Like Lord Kuvera, well arrayed, He pressed a couch of gold, Wherefrom a covering of brocade Hung down in many a fold. Oil and the sandal's fragrant dust Had tinged his body o'er Dark as the stream the spearman's thrust Drains from the wounded boar. Him Sita watched with tender care, A chouri in her hand, As Chitra,(281) ever fond in fair, Beside the Moon will stand. Him glorious with unborrowed light, A liberal lord, of sunlike might, Sumantra hailed in words like these, Well skilled in gentle courtesies, As, with joined hands in reverence raised, Upon the beauteous prince he gazed: "Happy Kausalya! Blest is she, The Mother of a son like thee. Now rise, O Rama, speed away. Go to thy sire without delay: For he and Queen Kaikeyi seek An interview with thee to speak."

Then while the dust upon him hung, The monarch to Kausalya clung, And she with mournful steps and slow Turned to the palace, worn with woe. As one whose hand has touched the fire, Or slain a Brahman in his ire, He felt his heart with sorrow torn Still thinking of his son forlorn. Each step was torture, as the road The traces of the chariot showed, And as the shadowed sun grows dim So care and anguish darkened him. He raised a cry, by woe distraught, As of his son again he thought. And judging that the car had sped Beyond the city, thus he said: "I still behold the foot-prints made By the good horses that conveyed My son afar: these marks I see, But high-souled Rama, where is he? Ah me, my son! my first and best, On pleasant couches wont to rest, With limbs perfumed with sandal, fanned By many a beauty's tender hand: Where will he lie with log or stone Beneath him for a pillow thrown, To leave at morn his earthy bed, Neglected, and with dust o'erspread, As from the flood with sigh and pant Comes forth the husband elephant? The men who make the woods their home Shall see the long-armed hero roam Roused from his bed, though lord of all, In semblance of a friendless thrall. Janak's dear child who ne'er has met With aught save joy and comfort yet, Will reach to-day the forest, worn And wearied with the brakes of thorn. Ah, gentle girl, of woods unskilled, How will her heart with dread be filled At the wild beasts' deep roaring there, Whose voices lift the shuddering hair! Kaikeyi, glory in thy gain, And, widow queen, begin to reign: No will, no power to live have I When my brave son no more is nigh."

With ample stores of food supplied, Each to his home the envoys hied, Prepared, with steeds of swiftest race, To Kekaya's land(340) their way to trace. They made all due provision there, And every need arranged with care, Then ordered by Vasishtha, they Went forth with speed upon their way. Then northward of Pralamba, west Of Apartala, on they pressed, Crossing the Malini that flowed With gentle stream athwart the road. They traversed Ganga's holy waves Where she Hastinapura(341) laves, Thence to Panchala(342) westward fast Through Kurujangal's land(343) they passed. On, on their course the envoys held By urgency of task impelled. Quick glancing at each lucid flood And sweet lake gay with flower and bud. Beyond, they passed unwearied o'er, Where glad birds fill the flood and shore Of Saradanda racing fleet With heavenly water clear and sweet, Thereby a tree celestial grows Which every boon on prayer bestows: To its blest shade they humbly bent, Then to Kulinga's town they went. Then, having passed the Warrior's Wood, In Abhikala next they stood, O'er sacred Ikshumati(344) came, Their ancient kings' ancestral claim. They saw the learned Brahmans stand, Each drinking from his hollowed hand, And through Bahika(345) journeying still They reached at length Sudaman's hill: There Vishnu's footstep turned to see, Vipasa(346) viewed, and Salmali, And many a lake and river met, Tank, pool, and pond, and rivulet. And lions saw, and tigers near, And elephants and herds of deer, And still, by prompt obedience led, Along the ample road they sped. Then when their course so swift and long, Had worn their steeds though fleet and strong, To Girivraja's splendid town They came by night, and lighted down. To please their master, and to guard The royal race, the lineal right, The envoys, spent with riding hard, To that fair city came by night.(347)

All swans and geese on mere and brook Their birth from Dhritarashtri took, And all the river-haunting brood Of ducks, a countless multitude. From Suki Nala sprang, who bare Dame Vinata surpassing fair. From fiery Krodhavasa, ten Bright daughters sprang, O King of men: Mrigi and Mrigamanda named, Hari and Bhadramada famed, Sarduli, Sveta fair to see, Matangi bright, and Surabhi, Surasa marked with each fair sign, And Kadruma, all maids divine. Mrigi, O Prince without a peer, Was mother of the herds of deer, The bear, the yak, the mountain roe Their birth to Mrigamanda owe; And Bhadramada joyed to be Mother of fair Iravati, Who bare Airavat,(444) huge of mould, Mid warders of the earth enrolled, From Hari lordly lions trace, With monkeys of the wild, their race. From the great dame Sarduli styled Sprung pards, Langurs,(445) and tigers wild. Matangi, Prince, gave birth to all Matangas, elephants strong and tall, And Sveta bore the beasts who stand One at each wind, earth's warder band.(446) Next Surabhi the Goddess bore Two heavenly maids, O Prince, of yore, Gandharvi--dear to fame is she-- And her sweet sister Rohini. With kine this daughter filled each mead, And bright Gandharvi bore the steed.(447) Surasa bore the serpents:(448) all The snakes Kadru their mother call. Then Manu, high-souled Kasyap's(449) wife, To all the race of men gave life, The Brahmans first, the Kshatriya caste, Then Vaisyas, and the Sudras last. Sprang from her mouth the Brahman race; Her chest the Kshatriyas' natal place: The Vaisyas from her thighs, 'tis said, The Sudras from her feet were bred. From Anala all trees that hang Their fair fruit-laden branches sprang. The child of beauteous Suki bore Vinata, as I taught before: And Surasa and Kadru were Born of one dame, a noble pair. Kadru gave birth to countless snakes That roam the earth in woods and brakes.

But all their raptures stab me through And wake my pining love anew.(622) Now through the air no wild bird flies, Each lily shuts her weary eyes; And blooms of opening jasmin show The parting sun has ceased to glow. No captain now for conquest burns, But homeward with his host returns; For roads and kings' ambitious dreams Have vanished neath descending streams. This is the watery month(623) wherein The Samar's(624) sacred chants begin. Ashadha(625) past, now Kosal's lord(626) The harvest of the spring has stored,(627) And dwells within his palace freed From every care of pressing need. Full is the moon, and fierce and strong Impetuous Sarju(628) roars along As though Ayodhya's crowds ran out To greet their king with echoing shout. In this sweet time of ease and rest No care disturbs Sugriva's breast, The foe that marred his peace o'erthrown, And queen and realm once more his own. Alas, a harder fate is mine, Reft both of realm and queen to pine, And, like the bank which floods erode, I sink beneath my sorrow's load. Sore on my soul my miseries weigh, And these long rains our action stay, While Ravan seems a mightier foe Than I dare hope to overthrow. I saw the roads were barred by rain, I knew the hopes of war were vain; Nor could I bid Sugriva rise, Though prompt to aid my enterprise. E'en now I scarce can urge my friend On whom his house and realm depend, Who, after toil and peril past, Is happy with his queen at last. Sugriva after rest will know The hour is come to strike the blow, Nor will his grateful soul forget My succour, or deny the debt I know his generous heart, and hence Await the time with confidence When he his friendly zeal will show, And brooks again untroubled flow."(629)

Through the fair city Lakshman came, Invited in Sugriva's name. Within the gates the guardian bands, Of Vanars raised their suppliant hands, And in their ordered ranks, amazed, Upon the princely hero gazed, They marked each burning breath he drew, The fury of his soul they knew. Their hearts were chilled with sudden fear: They gazed, but dared not venture near, Before his eyes the city, gay With gems and flowery gardens, lay, Where fane and palace rose on high, And things of beauty charmed the eye. Where trees of every blossom grew Yielding their fruit in season due To Vanars of celestial seed Who wore each varied form at need, Fair-faced and glorious with the shine Of heavenly robes and wreaths divine. There sandal, aloe, lotus bloomed, And there delicious breath perfumed The city's broad street, redolent Of sugary mead(636) and honey scent. There many a lofty palace rose Like Vindhya or the Lord of Snows, And with sweet murmur sparkling rills Leapt lightly down the sheltering hills. On many a glorious palace, raised For prince and noble,(637) Lakshman gazed: Like clouds of paly hue they shone With fragrant wreaths that hung thereon: There wealth of jewels was enshrined, And fairer gems of womankind. There gleamed, of noble height and size, Like Indra's mansion in the skies, Protected by a crystal fence Of rock, the royal residence, With roof and turret high and bright Like Mount Kailasa's loftiest height. There blooming trees, Mahendra's gift, High o'er the walls were seen to lift Their golden fruited boughs, that made With leaf and flower delicious shade. He saw a band of Vanars wait, Wielding their weapons, at the gate Where golden portals flashed between Celestial garlands red and green. Within Sugriva's fair abode Unchecked the mighty hero strode, As when the sun of autumn shrouds His glory in a pile of clouds.

There ceased the Vanar: Rama pressed The treasured jewel to his breast, And from his eyes the waters broke As to the Vanar king he spoke: "As o'er her babe the mother weeps, This flood of tears the jewel steeps. This gem that shone on Sita's head Was Janak's gift when we were wed, And the pure brow that wore it lent New splendour to the ornament. This gem, bright offspring of the wave, The King of Heaven to Janak gave, Whose noble sacrificial rite Had filled the God with new delight. Now, as I gaze upon the prize, Methinks I see my father's eyes. Methinks I see before me stand The ruler of Videha's land.(893) Methinks mine arms are folded now Round her who wore it on her brow. Speak, Hanuman, O say, dear friend, What message did my darling send? O speak, and let thy words impart Their gentle dew to cool my heart. Ah, 'tis the crown of woe to see This gem and ask "Where, where is she?" If for one month her heart be strong, Her days of life will yet be long. But I, with naught to lend relief, This very day must die of grief. Come, Hanuman, and quickly guide The mourner to his darling's side. O lead me--thou hast learnt the way-- I cannot and I will not stay. How can my gentle love endure, So timid, delicate, and pure, The dreadful demons fierce and vile Who watch her in the guarded isle? No more the light of beauty shines From Sita as she weeps and pines. But pain and sorrow, cloud on cloud Her moonlight glory dim and shroud. O speak, dear Hanuman, and tell Each word that from her sweet lips fell, Her words, her words alone can give The healing balm to make me live."(894)

Soon as appeared the morning light Up rose the mighty anchorite, And thus to youthful Rama said, Who lay upon his leafy bed: "High fate is hers who calls thee son: Arise, 'tis break of day; Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done Due at the morning's ray."(151) At that great sage's high behest Up sprang the princely pair, To bathing rites themselves addressed, And breathed the holiest prayer. Their morning task completed, they To Visvamitra came That store of holy works, to pay The worship saints may claim. Then to the hallowed spot they went Along fair Sarju's side Where mix her waters confluent With three-pathed Ganga's tide.(152) There was a sacred hermitage Where saints devout of mind Their lives through many a lengthened age To penance had resigned. That pure abode the princes eyed With unrestrained delight, And thus unto the saint they cried, Rejoicing at the sight: "Whose is that hermitage we see? Who makes his dwelling there? Full of desire to hear are we: O Saint, the truth declare." The hermit smiling made reply To the two boys' request: "Hear, Rama, who in days gone by This calm retreat possessed. Kandarpa in apparent form, Called Kama(153) by the wise, Dared Uma's(154) new-wed lord to storm And make the God his prize. 'Gainst Sthanu's(155) self, on rites austere And vows intent,(156) they say, His bold rash hand he dared to rear, Though Sthanu cried, Away! But the God's eye with scornful glare Fell terrible on him. Dissolved the shape that was so fair And burnt up every limb. Since the great God's terrific rage Destroyed his form and frame, Kama in each succeeding age Has borne Ananga's(157) name. So, where his lovely form decayed, This land is Anga styled: Sacred to him of old this shade, And hermits undefiled. Here Scripture-talking elders sway Each sense with firm control, And penance-rites have washed away All sin from every soul.

Then Rama spoke a kind farewell, And hailed the blessings as they fell From Sita's gentle lips; and then, As a young lion from his den Descends the mountain's stony side, So from the hall the hero hied. First Lakshman at the door he viewed Who stood in reverent attitude, Then to the central court he pressed Where watched the friends who loved him best. To all his dear companions there He gave kind looks and greeting fair. On to the lofty car that glowed Like fire the royal tiger strode. Bright as himself its silver shone: A tiger's skin was laid thereon. With cloudlike thunder, as it rolled, It flashed with gems and burnished gold, And, like the sun's meridian blaze, Blinded the eye that none could gaze. Like youthful elephants, tall and strong, Fleet coursers whirled the car along: In such a car the Thousand-eyed Borne by swift horses loves to ride. So like Parjanya,(282) when he flies Thundering through the autumn skies, The hero from the palace sped, As leaves the moon some cloud o'erhead. Still close to Rama Lakshman kept, Behind him to the car he leapt, And, watching with fraternal care, Waved the long chouri's silver hair, As from the palace gate he came Up rose the tumult of acclaim. While loud huzza and jubilant shout Pealed from the gathered myriads out. Then elephants, like mountains vast, And steeds who all their kind surpassed, Followed their lord by hundreds, nay By thousands, led in long array. First marched a band of warriors trained, With sandal dust and aloe stained; Well armed was each with sword and bow, And every breast with hope aglow, And ever, as they onward went, Shouts from the warrior train, And every sweet-toned instrument Prolonged the minstrel strain. On passed the tamer of his foes, While well clad dames, in crowded rows, Each chamber lattice thronged to view, And chaplets on the hero threw.

Kausalya's eyes with tears o'erflowed, Weighed down by varied sorrows' load; On her dead lord her gaze she bent, Who lay like fire whose might is spent, Like the great deep with waters dry, Or like the clouded sun on high. Then on her lap she laid his head. And on Kaikeyi looked and said: "Triumphant now enjoy thy reign Without a thorn thy side to pain. Thou hast pursued thy single aim, And killed the king, O wicked dame. Far from my sight my Rama flies, My perished lord has sought the skies. No friend, no hope my life to cheer, I cannot tread the dark path here. Who would forsake her husband, who That God to whom her love is due, And wish to live one hour, but she Whose heart no duty owns, like thee? The ravenous sees no fault: his greed Will e'en on poison blindly feed. Kaikeyi, through a hump-back maid, This royal house in death has laid. King Janak, with his queen, will hear Heart rent like me the tidings drear Of Rama banished by the king, Urged by her impious counselling. No son has he, his age is great, And sinking with the double weight, He for his darling child will pine, And pierced with woe his life resign. Sprung from Videha's monarch, she A sad and lovely devotee, Roaming the wood, unmeet for woe, Will toil and trouble undergo. She in the gloomy night with fear The cries of beast and bird will hear, And trembling in her wild alarm Will cling to Rama's sheltering arm. Ah, little knows my duteous son That I am widowed and undone-- My Rama of the lotus eye, Gone hence, gone hence, alas, to die. Now, as a living wife and true, I, e'en this day, will perish too: Around his form these arms will throw And to the fire with him will go."

That night of sorrow passed away, And rose again the God of Day. Then all the twice-born peers of state Together met for high debate. Javali, lord of mighty fame. And Gautam, and Katyayan came, And Markandeya's reverend age, And Vamadeva, glorious sage: Sprung from Mudgalya's seed the one, The other ancient Kasyap's son. With lesser lords these Brahmans each Spoke in his turn his several speech, And turning to Vasishtha, best Of household priests him thus addressed: "The night of bitter woe has past, Which seemed a hundred years to last, Our king, in sorrow for his son, Reunion with the Five has won. His soul is where the blessed are, While Rama roams in woods afar, And Lakshman, bright in glorious deeds, Goes where his well-loved brother leads. And Bharat and Satrughna, they Who smite their foes in battle fray, Far in the realm of Kekaya stay, Where their maternal grandsire's care Keeps Rajagriha's city fair. Let one of old Ikshvaku's race Obtain this day the sovereign's place, Or havoc and destruction straight Our kingless land will devastate. In kingless lands no thunder's voice, No lightning wreaths the heart rejoice, Nor does Parjanya's heavenly rain Descend upon the burning plain. Where none is king, the sower's hand Casts not the seed upon the land; The son against the father strives. And husbands fail to rule their wives. In kingless realms no princes call Their friends to meet in crowded hall; No joyful citizens resort To garden trim or sacred court. In kingless realms no Twice-born care To sacrifice with text and prayer, Nor Brahmans, who their vows maintain, The great solemnities ordain. The joys of happier days have ceased: No gathering, festival, or feast Together calls the merry throng Delighted with the play and song. In kingless lands it ne'er is well With sons of trade who buy and sell: No men who pleasant tales repeat Delight the crowd with stories sweet.

Conversing thus their way pursued The city's joyous multitude, And each in mutual rapture pressed A friend or neighbour to his breast. Thus every man of high renown, And every merchant of the town, And leading subjects, joyous went Toward Rama in his banishment. And those who worked the potter's wheel, And artists skilled in gems to deal; And masters of the weaver's art, And those who shaped the sword and dart; And they who golden trinkets made, And those who plied the fuller's trade; And servants trained the bath to heat, And they who dealt in incense sweet; Physicians in their business skilled, And those who wine and mead distilled; And workmen deft in glass who wrought, And those whose snares the peacock caught; With them who bored the ear for rings, Or sawed, or fashioned ivory things; And those who knew to mix cement, Or lived by sale of precious scent; And men who washed, and men who sewed, And thralls who mid the herds abode; And fishers of the flood, and they Who played and sang, and women gay; And virtuous Brahmans, Scripture-wise, Of life approved in all men's eyes; These swelled the prince's lengthened train, Borne each in car or bullock wain. Fair were the robes they wore upon Their limbs where red-hued unguents shone. These all in various modes conveyed Their journey after Bharat made; The soldiers' hearts with rapture glowed, Following Bharat on his road, Their chief whose tender love would fain Bring his dear brother home again. With elephant, and horse, and car, The vast procession travelled far, And came where Ganga's waves below The town of Sringavera(361) flow. There, with his friends and kinsmen nigh, Dwelt Guha, Rama's dear ally, Heroic guardian of the land With dauntless heart and ready hand. There for a while the mighty force That followed Bharat stayed its course, Gazing on Ganga's bosom stirred By many a graceful water-bird.

Then ten necked Ravan saw the time Propitious for his purposed crime. A mendicant in guise he came And stood before the Maithil dame. His garb was red, with tufted hair And sandalled feet a shade he bare, And from the fiend's left shoulder slung A staff and water-vessel hung. Near to the lovely dame he drew, While both the chiefs were far from view, As darkness takes the evening air When neither sun nor moon is there. He bent his eye upon the dame, A princess fair, of spotless fame: So might some baleful planet be Near Moon-forsaken Rohini.(495) As the fierce tyrant nearer drew, The trees in Janasthan that grew Waved not a leaf for fear and woe, And the hushed wind forbore to blow. Godavari's waters as they fled, Saw his fierce eye-balls flashing red, And from each swiftly-gliding wave A melancholy murmur gave. Then Ravan, when his eager eye Beheld the longed-for moment nigh, In mendicant's apparel dressed Near to the Maithil lady pressed. In holy guise, a fiend abhorred, He found her mourning for her lord. Thus threatening draws Sanischar(496) nigh To Chitra(497) in the evening sky; Thus the deep well by grass concealed Yawns treacherous in the verdant field. He stood and looked upon the dame Of Rama, queen of spotless fame With her bright teeth and each fair limb Like the full moon she seemed to him, Sitting within her leafy cot, Weeping for woe that left her not. Thus, while with joy his pulses beat, He saw her in her lone retreat, Eyed like the lotus, fair to view In silken robes of amber hue. Pierced to the core by Kama's dart He murmured texts with lying art, And questioned with a soft address The lady in her loneliness. The fiend essayed with gentle speech The heart of that fair dame to reach, Pride of the worlds, like Beauty's Queen Without her darling lotus seen:

No, she is slain by giants; they Have stolen or devoured their prey, Or surely at my mournful cry My darling to her lord would fly. O Lakshman, see those troops of deer: In each sad eye there gleams a tear. Those looks of woe too clearly say My consort is the giants' prey. O noblest, fairest of the fair, Where art thou, best of women, where? This day will dark Kaikeyi find Fresh triumph for her evil mind, When I, who with my Sita came Return alone, without my dame. But ne'er can I return to see Those chambers where my queen should be And hear the scornful people speak Of Rama as a coward weak. For mine will be the coward's shame Who let the foeman steal his dame. How can I seek my home, or brook Upon Videha's king to look? How listen, when he bids me tell, My wanderings o'er, that all is well? He, when I meet his eager view, Will mark that Sita comes not too, And when he hears the mournful tale His wildered sense will reel and fail. "O Dasaratha" will he cry, "Blest in thy mansion in the sky!" Ne'er to that town my steps shall bend, That town which Bharat's arms defend, For e'en the blessed homes above Would seem a waste without my love. Leave me, my brother, here, I pray; To fair Ayodhya bend thy way. Without my love I cannot bear To live one hour in blank despair. Round Bharat's neck thy fond arms twine, And greet him with these words of mine: "Dear brother, still the power retain, And o'er the land as monarch reign." With salutation next incline Before thy mother, his, and mine. Still, brother, to my words attend, And with all care each dame befriend. To my dear mother's ear relate My mournful tale and Sita's fate."

"Why cast thy strength of soul away, And weakly yield to passion's sway? Arise, my brother, do and dare Ere action perish in despair. Recall the firmness of thy heart, And nerve thee for a hero's part. Whose is the hand unscathed to sieze The red flame quickened by the breeze? Where is the foe will dare to wrong Or keep the Maithil lady long?" Then with pale lips that sorrow dried The son of Raghu thus replied: "Lord Indra thousand-eyed, has sent The sweet rain from the firmament, Sees the rich promise of the grain, And turns him to his rest again. The clouds with voices loud and deep, Veiling each tree upon the steep, Up on the thirsty earth have shed Their precious burden and are fled. Now in kings' hearts ambition glows: They rush to battle with their foes;(633) But in Sugriva's sloth I see No care for deeds of chivalry. See, Lakshman, on each breezy height A thousand autumn blooms are bright. See how the wings of wild swans gleam On every islet of the stream. Four months of flood and rain are past: A hundred years they seemed to last To me whom toil and trouble tried, My Sita severed from my side. She, gentlest woman, weak and young, Still to her lord unwearied clung. Still by the exile's side she stood In the wild ways of Dandak wood, Like a fond bird disconsolate If parted from her darling mate. Sugriva, lapped in soft repose, Untouched by pity for my woes, Scorns the poor exile, dispossessed, By Ravan's mightier arm oppressed, The wretch who comes to sue and pray From his lost kingdom far away. Hence falls on me the Vanar's scorn, A suitor friendless and forlorn. The time is come: with heedless eye He sees the hour of action fly,-- Unmindful, now his hopes succeed, Of promise made in stress of need.

He ceased: and Hanuman of all The Vanars in the council hall In wisdom first, and rank, expressed The thoughts that filled his prudent breast: "No marvel thou rememberest yet The service thou shouldst ne'er forget, How the brave prince of Raghu's seed Thy days from fear and peril freed; And Bali for thy sake o'erthrew, Whom Indra's self might scarce subdue. I doubt not Rama's anger burns For the scant love thy heart returns. For this he sends his brother, him Whose glory never waxes dim. Sunk in repose thy careless eye Marks not the seasons as they fly, Nor sees that autumn has begun With dark blooms opening to the sun. Clear is the sky: no cloudlet mars The splendour of the shining stars. The balmy air is soft and still, And clear and bright are lake and rill. Thou heedest not with blinded eyes The hour for warlike enterprise. Hence Lakshman hither comes to break Thy slothful trance and bid thee wake. Then, Monarch, with a patient ear The high-souled Rama's message hear, Which, reft of wife and realm and friends, Thus by another's mouth he sends. Thou, Vanar King, hast done amiss: And now I see no way but this: Before his envoy humbly stand And sue for peace with suppliant hand. High duty bids a courtier seek His master's weal, and freely speak. So by no thought of fear controlled My speech, O King, is free and bold, For Rama, if his anger glow, Can, with the terrors of his bow This earth with all the Gods subdue, Gandharvas,(635) and the demon crew. Unwise to stir his wrathful mood Whose favour must again be wooed. And, most of all, unwise for one Grateful like thee for service done. Go with thy son and kinsmen: bend Thy humble head and greet thy friend. And, like a fond obedient spouse, Be faithful to thy plighted vows."

On, onward still! your feet shall tread Shores of the sea whose waves are red, Where spreading wide your eyes shall see The guilt-tormenting cotton tree(674) And the wild spot where Garud(675) dwells Which gems adorn and ocean shells, High as Kailasa, nobly decked, Wrought by the heavenly architect.(676) Huge giants named Mandehas(677) there In each foul shape they love to wear, Numbing the soul with terror's chill, Hang from the summit of the hill. When darts the sun his earliest beam They plunge them in the ocean stream, New vigour from his rays obtain, And hang upon the rocks again. Speed onward still: your steps shall be At length beside the Milky Sea Whose every ripple as it curls Gleams glorious with its wealth of pearls. Amid that sea like pale clouds spread The white Mount Rishabh(678) rears his head. About the mountain's glorious waist Woods redolent of bloom are braced. A lake where lotuses unfold Their silver buds with threads of gold, Sudarsan ever bright and fair Where white swans sport, lies gleaming there, The wandering Kinnar's(679) dear resort, Where heavenly nymphs and Yakshas(680) sport. On! leave the Milky Sea behind: Another flood your search shall find, A waste of waters, wild and drear, That chills each living heart with fear. There see the horse's awful head, Wrath-born, that flames in Ocean's bed.(681) There rises up a fearful cry From the sea things that move thereby, When, helpless, powerless for flight, They gaze upon the horrid sight. Past to the northern shore, and then Beyond the flood three leagues and ten Your wondering glances will behold Mount Jatarupa(682) bright with gold. There like the young moon pale of hue The monstrous serpent(683) will ye view, The earth's supporter, whose bright eyes Resemble lotus leaves in size. He rests upon the mountain's brow, And all the Gods before him bow. Ananta with a thousand heads His length in robes of azure spreads.

He gathered next a chosen band For service in the southern land. He summoned Nila son of Fire, And, offspring of the eternal Sire, Jambavan bold and strong and tall, And Hanuman, the best of all, And many a valiant lord beside,(689) With Angad for their chief and guide. "Go forth," he cried, "with all this host Exploring to the southern coast: The thousand peaks that Vindhya shows Where every tree and creeper grows: Where Narmada's(690) sweet waters run, And serpents bask them in the sun: Where Krishnaveni's(691) currents flee, And sparkles fair Godavari.(692) Through Mekhal(693) pass and Utkal's(694) land: Go where Dasarna's(695) cities stand. Avanti(696) seek, of high renown, And Abravanti's(697) glorious town. Search every hill and brook and cave Where Dandak's woods their branches wave Ayomukh's(698) woody hill explore Whose sides are bright with richest ore, Lifting his glorious head on high From bloomy groves that round him lie. Search well his forests where the breeze Blows fragrant from the sandal trees. Then will you see Kaveri's(699) stream Whose pleasant waters glance and gleam, And to the lovely banks entice The sportive maids of Paradise. High on the top of Malaya's(700) hill, In holy musing, calm and still, Sits, radiant as the Lord of Light, Agastya,(701) noblest anchorite. Soon as that lofty-thoughted lord His high permission shall accord, Pass Tamraparni's(702) flood whose isles Are loved by basking crocodiles. The sandal woods that fringe her side Those islets and her waters hide; While, like an amorous matron, she Speeds to her own dear lord the sea. Thence hasting on your way behold The Pandyas'(703) gates of pearl and gold. Then, with your task maturely planned, On ocean's shore your feet will stand. Where, by Agastya's high decree, Mahendra,(704) planted in the sea, With tinted peaks against the tide Rises in solitary pride, And glorious in his golden glow Spurns back the waves that beat below.

Fair mountain, bright with creepers' bloom And every tint that trees assume, Where Yaksha, God, and heavenly maid Meet wandering in the lovely shade, At changing moon and solemn tide By Indra's presence glorified. One hundred leagues in fair extent An island(705) fronts the continent: No man may tread its glittering shore, With utmost heed that isle explore, For the fair country owns the sway Of Ravan whom we burn to slay. A mighty monster stands to keep The passage of the southern deep. Lifting her awful arms on high She grasps e'en shadows as they fly. Speed through that isle, and onward still Where in mid sea the Flowery Hill(706) Raises on high his bloomy head By saints and angels visited. There, with a hundred gleaming peaks Bright as the sun, the sky he seeks, One glorious peak the Lord of Day Gilds ever with his loving ray; Thereon ne'er yet the glances fell Of thankless wretch or infidel. Bow to that hill in reverence due, And then once more your search pursue. Beyond that glorious mountain hie, And Suryavan,(707) proud hill is nigh. Your rapid course yet farther bend Where Vaidyut's(708) airy peaks ascend. There trees of noblest sort, profuse Of wealth, their kindly gifts produce. Their precious fruits, O Vanars, taste, The honey sip, and onward haste. Next will ye see Mount Kunjar rise, Who cheers with beauty hearts and eyes. There is Agastya's(709) mansion, decked By heaven's all moulding architect. Near Bhogavati(710) stands, the place Where dwell the hosts of serpent race: A broad-wayed city, walled and barred, Which watchful legions keep and guard, The fiercest of the serpent youth, Each awful for his venomed tooth: And throned in his imperial hall Is Vasuki(711) who rules them all. Explore the serpent city well, Search town and tower and citadel, And scan each field and wood that lies Around it, with your watchful eyes.

sixty thousand hills of gold With wondering eyes shall ye behold, Where in his glory every one Is brilliant as the morning sun. Full in the midst King Meru,(725) best Of mountains, lifts his lofty crest, On whom of yore, as all have heard, The sun well-pleased this boon conferred: "On thee, O King, on thee and thine Light, day and night, shall ever shine. Gandharvas, Gods who love thee well And on thy sacred summits dwell, Undimmed in lustre, bright and fair, The golden sheen shall ever share." The Visvas,(726) Vasus,(727) they who ride The tempest,(728) every God beside, Draw nigh to Meru's lofty crest When evening darkens in the west, And to the parting Lord of Day The homage of their worship pay, Ere yet a while, unseen of all, Behind Mount Asta's(729) peaks he fall. Wrought by the heavenly artist's care A glorious palace glitters there, And round about it sweet birds sing Where the gay trees are blossoming: The home of Varun(730) high-souled lord, Wrist-girded with his deadly cord.(731) With ten tall stems, a palm between Meru and Asta's hill is seen: Pure silver from the base it springs, And far and wide its lustre flings. Seek Ravan and the dame by brook, In pathless glen, in leafy nook On Meru's crest a hermit lives Bright with the light that penance gives: Savarni(732) is he named, renowned As Brahma's peer, with glory crowned. There bowing down in reverence speak And ask him of the dame you seek. Thus far the splendid Lord of Day Pursues through heaven his ceaseless way, Shedding on every spot his light; Then sinks behind Mount Asta's height, Thus far advance: the sunless sea Beyond is all unknown to me. Sushen of mighty arm, long tried In peril, shall your legions guide. Receive his words with high respect, And ne'er his lightest wish neglect. He is my consort's sire, and hence Deserves the utmost reverence."

Then burst the people's rapture out In loud acclaim and joyful shout; And when the tumult slowly ceased The king addressed the holy priest: "Give order, Saint, with watchful heed For what the coming rite will need. This day let all things ready wait Mine eldest son to consecrate." Best of all men of second birth Vasishtha heard the lord of earth, And gave commandment to the bands Of servitors with lifted hands Who waited on their master's eye: "Now by to-morrow's dawn supply Rich gold and herbs and gems of price And offerings for the sacrifice, Wreaths of white flowers and roasted rice, And oil and honey, separate; New garments and a car of state, An elephant with lucky signs, A fourfold host in ordered lines, The white umbrella, and a pair Of chowries,(261) and a banner fair; A hundred vases, row on row, To shine like fire in splendid glow, A tiger's mighty skin, a bull With gilded horns most beautiful. All these, at dawn of coming day, Around the royal shrine array, Where burns the fire's undying ray. Each palace door, each city gate With wreaths of sandal decorate. And with the garlands' fragrant scent Let clouds of incense-smoke be blent. Let food of noble kind and taste Be for a hundred thousand placed; Fresh curds with streams of milk bedewed To feed the Brahman multitude. With care be all their wants supplied. And mid the twice-born chiefs divide Rich largess, with the early morn, And oil and curds and roasted corn. Soon as the sun has shown his light Pronounce the prayer to bless the rite, And then be all the Brahmans called And in their ordered seats installed. Let all musicians skilled to play, And dancing-girls in bright array Stand ready in the second ring Within the palace of the king. Each honoured tree, each holy shrine With leaves and flowery wreaths entwine, And here and there beneath the shade Be food prepared and presents laid.

And now the night had past away; Out shone the Maker of the Day, Bringing the planetary hour And moment of auspicious power. Vasishtha, virtuous, far renowned, Whose young disciples girt him round, With sacred things without delay Through the fair city took his way. He traversed, where the people thronged, And all for Rama's coming longed, The town as fair in festive show As his who lays proud cities low.(278) He reached the palace where he heard The mingled notes of many a bird, Where crowded thick high-honoured bands Of guards with truncheons in their hands. Begirt by many a sage, elate, Vasishtha reached the royal gate, And standing by the door he found Sumantra, for his form renowned, The king's illustrious charioteer And noble counsellor and peer. To him well skilled in every part Of his hereditary art Vasishtha said: "O charioteer, Inform the king that I am here, Here ready by my side behold These sacred vessels made of gold, Which water for the rite contain From Ganga and each distant main. Here for installing I have brought The seat prescribed of fig-wood wrought, All kinds of seed and precious scent And many a gem and ornament; Grain, sacred grass, the garden's spoil, Honey and curds and milk and oil; Eight radiant maids, the best of all War elephants that feed in stall; A four-horse car, a bow and sword. A litter, men to bear their lord; A white umbrella bright and fair That with the moon may well compare; Two chouries of the whitest hair; A golden beaker rich and rare; A bull high-humped and fair to view, Girt with gold bands and white of hue; A four-toothed steed with flowing mane, A throne which lions carved sustain; A tiger's skin, the sacred fire, Fresh kindled, which the rites require; The best musicians skilled to play, And dancing-girls in raiment gay; Kine, Brahmans, teachers fill the court, And bird and beast of purest sort.

The prince of men a league away Saw where the hermit's dwelling lay, Then with his lords his path pursued, And left his warrior multitude. On foot, as duty taught his mind, He left his warlike gear behind; Two robes of linen cloth he wore, And bade Vasishtha walk before. Then Bharat from his lords withdrew When Bharadvaja came in view, And toward the holy hermit went Behind Vasishtha, reverent. When Bharadvaja, saint austere, Saw good Vasishtha drawing near, He cried, upspringing from his seat, "The grace-gift bring, my friend to greet." When Saint Vasishtha near him drew, And Bharat paid the reverence due, The glorious hermit was aware That Dasaratha's son was there. The grace-gift, water for their feet He gave, and offered fruit to eat; Then, duty-skilled, with friendly speech In seemly order questioned each: "How fares it in Ayodhya now With treasury and army? how With kith and kin and friends most dear, With councillor, and prince, and peer?" But, for he knew the king was dead, Of Dasaratha naught he said. Vasishtha and the prince in turn Would of the hermit's welfare learn: Of holy fires they fain would hear, Of pupils, trees, and birds, and deer. The glorious saint his answer made That all was well in holy shade: Then love of Rama moved his breast, And thus he questioned of his guest: "Why art thou here, O Prince, whose band With kingly sway protects the land? Declare the cause, explain the whole, For yet some doubt disturbs my soul. He whom Kausalya bare, whose might The foemen slays, his line's delight, He who with wife and brother sent Afar now roam in banishment, Famed prince, to whom his father spake This order for a woman's sake: "Away! and in the forest spend Thy life till fourteen years shall end"-- Has thou the wish to harm him, bent On sin against the innocent? Wouldst thou thine elder's realm enjoy Without a thorn that can annoy?"

Thou on a heap of flowers shalt rest And eat the meal his hands have dressed, There shalt thou lie on Pampa's brink, And Lakshman's hand shall give thee drink, Filling a lotus leaf with cool Pure water from the crystal pool, To which the opening blooms have lent The riches of divinest scent. Beside thee at the close of day Will Lakshman through the woodland stray, And show thee where the monkeys sleep In caves beneath the mountain steep. Loud-voiced as bulls they forth will burst And seek the flood, oppressed by thirst; Then rest a while, their wants supplied, Their well-fed bands on Pampa's side. Thou roving there at eve shalt see Rich clusters hang on shrub and tree, And Pampa flushed with roseate glow, And at the view forget thy woe. There shalt thou mark with strange delight Each loveliest flower that blooms by night, While lily buds that shrink from day Their tender loveliness display. In that far wild no hand but thine Those peerless flowers in wreaths shall twine: Immortal in their changeless pride, Ne'er fade those blooms and ne'er are dried. There erst on holy thoughts intent Their days Matanga's pupils spent. Once for their master food they sought, And store of fruit and berries brought. Then as they laboured through the dell From limb and brow the heat-drops fell: Thence sprang and bloomed those wondrous trees: Such holy power have devotees. Thus, from the hermits' heat-drops sprung, Their growth is ever fresh and young. There Savari is dwelling yet, Who served each vanished anchoret. Beneath the shade of holy boughs That ancient votaress keeps her vows. Her happy eyes on thee will fall, O godlike prince, adored by all, And she, whose life is pure from sin, A blissful seat in heaven will win. But cross, O son of Raghu, o'er, And stand on Pampa's western shore. A tranquil hermitage that lies Deep in the woods will meet thine eyes.

"See, brother, see" thus Rama cried On Malyavat's(618) dark-wooded side, "A chain of clouds, like lofty hills, The sky with gathering shadow fills. Nine months those clouds have borne the load Conceived from sunbeams as they glowed, And, having drunk the seas, give birth, And drop their offspring on the earth. Easy it seems at such a time That flight of cloudy stairs to climb, And, from their summit, safely won, Hang flowery wreaths about the sun. See how the flash of evening's red Fringes the fleecy clouds o'erhead Till all the sky is streaked and lined With bleeding wounds incarnadined, Or the wide firmament above Shows like a lover sick with love And, pale with cloudlets, heaves a sigh In the soft breeze that wanders by. See, by the fervent heat embrowned, How drenched with recent showers, the ground Pours out in floods her gushing tears, Like Sita wild with torturing fears. So softly blows this cloud-born breeze Cool through the boughs of camphor trees That one might hold it in the cup Of hollowed hands and drink it up. See, brother, where that rocky steep, Where odorous shrubs in rain-drops weep, Shows like Sugriva when they shed Tne royal balm upon his head. Like students at their task appear These hills whose misty peaks are near: Black deerskin(619) garments wrought of cloud Their forms with fitting mantles shroud, Each torrent from the summit poured Supplies the place of sacred cord.(620) And winds that in their caverns moan Sound like the voice's undertone.(621) From east to west red lightnings flash, And, quivering neath the golden lash, The great sky like a generous steed Groans inly at each call to speed. Yon lightning, as it flashes through The giant cloud of sable hue, Recalls my votaress Sita pressed Mid struggles to the demon's breast. See, on those mountain ridges stand Sweet shrubs that bud and bloom expand. The soft rain ends their pangs of grief, And drops its pearls on flower and leaf.

Forth went the legions of the west: And wise Sugriva addressed Satabal, summoned from the crowd. To whom the sovereign cried aloud: "Go forth, O Vanar chief, go forth, Explore the regions of the north. Thy host a hundred thousand be, And Yama's sons(733) attend on thee. With dauntless courage, strength, and skill Search every river, wood, and hill. Through every land in order go Right onward to the Hills of Snow. Search mid the peaks that shine afar, In woods of Lodh and Deodar.(734) Search if with Janak's daughter, screened By sheltering rocks, there lie the fiend. The holy grounds of Soma tread By Gods and minstrels visited. Reach Kala's mount, and flats that lie Among the peaks that tower on high. Then leave that hill that gleams with ore, And fair Sudarsan's heights explore. Then on to Devasakha(735) hie, Loved by the children of the sky. A dreary land you then will see Without a hill or brook or tree, A hundred leagues, bare, wild, and dread In lifeless desolation, spread. Pursue your onward way, and haste Through the dire horrors of the waste Until triumphant with delight You reach Kailasa's glittering height. There stands a palace decked with gold, For King Kuvera(736) wrought of old, A home the heavenly artist planned And fashioned with his cunning hand. There lotuses adorn the flood With full-blown flower and opening bud Where swans and mallards float, and gay Apsarases(737) come down to play. There King Vaisravan's(738) self, the lord By all the universe adored, Who golden gifts to mortals sends, Lives with the Guhyakas(739) his friends. Search every cavern in the steep, And green glens where the moonbeams sleep, If haply in that distant ground The robber and the dame be found. Then on to Krauncha's hill,(740) and through His fearful pass your way pursue: Though dark and terrible the vale Your wonted courage must not fail. There through abyss and cavern seek, On lofty ridge, and mountain peak, On, on!

"How, King," cried Rama, "didst thou gain Thy lore of sea and hill and plain?" "I told thee how," Sugriva said, "From Bali's arm Mayavi fled(744) To Malaya's hill, and strove to save His life by hiding in the cave. I told how Bali sought, to kill His foe, the hollow of the hill; Nor need I, King, again unfold The wondrous tale already told. Then, wandering forth, my way I took By many a town and wood and brook. I roamed the earth from place to place, Till, like a mirror's polished face, The whole broad disk, that lies between Its farthest bounds, mine eyes had seen. I wandered first to eastern skies Where fairest trees rejoiced mine eyes, And many a cave and wooded hill Where lilies robed the lake and rill. There metal dyes that hill(745) adorn Whence springs the sun to light the morn. There, too, I viewed the Milky sea, Where nymphs of heaven delight to be. Then to the south I made my way From regions of the rising day, And roamed o'er Vindhya, where the breeze Is odorous of sandal trees. Still in my fear I found no rest: I sought the regions of the west, And gazed on Asta,(746) where the sun Sinks when his daily course is run. Then from that noblest hill I fled And to the northern country sped, Saw Himavan,(747) and Meru's steep, And stood beside the northern deep. But when, by Bali's might oppressed, E'en in those wilds I could not rest, Came Hanuman the wise and brave, And thus his prudent counsel gave: "'I told thee how Matanga(748) cursed Thy tyrant, that his head should burst In pieces, should he dare invade The precincts of that tranquil shade. There may we dwell in peace and be From thy oppressor's malice free." We went to Rishyamuka's hill, And spent our days secure from ill Where, with that curse upon his head, The cruel Bali durst not tread."

The giant lords his hest obeyed, They left him, trembling and afraid, And from the royal palace strode To Kumbhakarna's vast abode. They carried garlands sweet and fresh, And reeking loads of blood and flesh. They reached the dwelling where he lay, A cave that reached a league each way, Sweet with fair blooms of lovely scent And bright with golden ornament. His breathings came so fierce and fast, Scarce could the giants brook the blast. They found him on a golden bed With his huge limbs at length outspread. They piled their heaps of venison near, Fat buffaloes and boars and deer. With wreaths of flowers they fanned his face, And incense sweetened all the place. Each raised his mighty voice as loud As thunders of an angry cloud, And conchs their stirring summons gave That echoed through the giant's cave. Then on his breast they rained their blows, And high the wild commotion rose When cymbal vied with drum and horn. And war cries on the gale upborne. Through all the air loud discord spread, And, struck with fear, the birds fell dead. But still he slept and took his rest. Then dashed they on his shaggy chest Clubs, maces, fragments of the rock: He moved not once, nor felt the shock. The giants made one effort more With shell and drum and shout and roar. Club, mallet, mace, in fury plied, Rained blows upon his breast and side. And elephants were urged to aid, And camels groaned and horses neighed. They drenched him with a hundred pails, They tore his ears with teeth and nails. They bound together many a mace And beat him on the head and face; And elephants with ponderous tread Stamped on his limbs and chest and head. The unusual weight his slumber broke: He started, shook his sides, and woke; And, heedless of the wounds and blows, Yawning with thirst and hunger rose, His jaws like hell gaped fierce and wide, Dire as the flame neath ocean's tide.

Then Rama, speeding through the skies, Bent on the earth his eager eyes: "Look, Sita, see, divinely planned And built by Visvakarma's hand, Lanka the lovely city rest Enthroned on Mount Trikuta's crest Behold those fields, ensanguined yet, Where Vanar hosts and giants met. There, vainly screened by charm and spell, The robber Ravan fought and fell. There knelt Mandodari(1021) and shed Her tears in floods for Ravan dead. And every dame who loved him sent From her sad heart her wild lament. There gleams the margin of the deep, Where, worn with toil, we sank to sleep. Look, love, the unconquered sea behold, King Varun's home ordained of old, Whose boundless waters roar and swell Rich with their store of pearl and shell. O see, the morning sun is bright On fair Hiranyanabha's(1022) height, Who rose from Ocean's sheltering breast That Hanuman might stay and rest. There stretches, famed for evermore, The wondrous bridge from shore to shore. The worlds, to life's remotest day, Due reverence to the work shall pay, Which holier for the lapse of time Shall give release from sin and crime. Now thither bend, dear love, thine eyes Where green with groves Kishkindha lies, The seat of King Sugriva's reign, Where Bali by this hand was slain.(1023) There Rishyamuka's hill behold Bright gleaming with embedded gold. There too my wandering foot I set, There King Sugriva first I met. And, where yon trees their branches wave, My promise of assistance gave. There, flushed with lilies, Pampa shines With banks which greenest foliage lines, Where melancholy steps I bent And mourned thee with a mad lament. There fierce Kabandha, spreading wide His giant arms, in battle died. Turn, Sita, turn thine eyes and see In Janasthan that glorious tree: There Ravan, lord of giants slew Our friend Jatayus brave and true, Thy champion in the hopeless strife, Who gave for thee his noble life. Now mark that glade amid the trees Where once we lived as devotees.

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.

But splendid, just, and great of mind, The childless king for offspring pined. No son had he his name to grace, Transmitter of his royal race. Long had his anxious bosom wrought, And as he pondered rose the thought: "A votive steed 'twere good to slay, So might a son the gift repay." Before his lords his plan he laid, And bade them with their wisdom aid: Then with these words Sumantra, best Of royal counsellors, addressed: "Hither, Vasishtha at their head, Let all my priestly guides be led." To him Sumantra made reply: "Hear, Sire, a tale of days gone by. To many a sage in time of old, Sanatkumar, the saint, foretold How from thine ancient line, O King, A son, when years came round, should spring. "Here dwells," 'twas thus the seer began, "Of Kasyap's(80) race, a holy man, Vibhandak named: to him shall spring A son, the famous Rishyasring. Bred with the deer that round him roam, The wood shall be that hermit's home. To him no mortal shall be known Except his holy sire alone. Still by those laws shall he abide Which lives of youthful Brahmans guide, Obedient to the strictest rule That forms the young ascetic's school: And all the wondering world shall hear Of his stern life and penance drear; His care to nurse the holy fire And do the bidding of his sire. Then, seated on the Angas'(81) throne, Shall Lomapad to fame be known. But folly wrought by that great king A plague upon the land shall bring; No rain for many a year shall fall And grievous drought shall ruin all. The troubled king with many a prayer Shall bid the priests some cure declare: "The lore of Heaven 'tis yours to know, Nor are ye blind to things below: Declare, O holy men, the way This plague to expiate and stay." Those best of Brahmans shall reply: "By every art, O Monarch, try Hither to bring Vibhandak's child, Persuaded, captured, or beguiled. And when the boy is hither led To him thy daughter duly wed."

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.

The father, swift to feel for woe, Shall on his friend his child bestow; And he shall take her and depart To his own town with joyous heart. The maiden home in triumph led, To Rishyasring the king shall wed. And he with loving joy and pride Shall take her for his honoured bride. And Dasaratha to a rite That best of Brahmans shall invite With supplicating prayer, To celebrate the sacrifice To win him sons and Paradise,(83) That he will fain prepare. From him the lord of men at length The boon he seeks shall gain, And see four sons of boundless strength His royal line maintain." "Thus did the godlike saint of old The will of fate declare, And all that should befall unfold Amid the sages there. O Prince supreme of men, go thou, Consult thy holy guide, And win, to aid thee in thy vow, This Brahman to thy side." Sumantra's counsel, wise and good, King Dasaratha heard, Then by Vasishtha's side he stood And thus with him conferred: "Sumantra counsels thus: do thou My priestly guide, the plan allow." Vasishtha gave his glad consent, And forth the happy monarch went With lords and servants on the road That led to Rishyasring's abode. Forests and rivers duly past, He reached the distant town at last Of Lomapad the Angas' king, And entered it with welcoming. On through the crowded streets he came, And, radiant as the kindled flame, He saw within the monarch's house The hermit's son most glorious. There Lomapad, with joyful breast, To him all honour paid, For friendship for his royal guest His faithful bosom swayed. Thus entertained with utmost care Seven days, or eight, he tarried there, And then that best of men thus broke His purpose to the king, and spoke: "O King of men, mine ancient friend, (Thus Dasaratha prayed) Thy Santa with her husband send My sacrifice to aid." Said he who ruled the Angas, Yea, And his consent was won: And then at once he turned away To warn the hermit's son.

He told him of their ties beyond Their old affection's faithful bond: "This king," he said, "from days of old A well beloved friend I hold. To me this pearl of dames he gave From childless woe mine age to save, The daughter whom he loved so much, Moved by compassion's gentle touch. In him thy Santas father see: As I am even so is he. For sons the childless monarch yearns: To thee alone for help he turns. Go thou, the sacred rite ordain To win the sons he prays to gain: Go, with thy wife thy succour lend, And give his vows a blissful end." The hermit's son with quick accord Obeyed the Angas' mighty lord, And with fair Santa at his side To Dasaratha's city hied. Each king, with suppliant hands upheld, Gazed on the other's face: And then by mutual love impelled Met in a close embrace. Then Dasaratha's thoughtful care, Before he parted thence, Bade trusty servants homeward bear The glad intelligence: "Let all the town be bright and gay With burning incense sweet; Let banners wave, and water lay The dust in every street." Glad were the citizens to learn The tidings of their lord's return, And through the city every man Obediently his task began. And fair and bright Ayodhya showed, As following his guest he rode Through the full streets where shell and drum Proclaimed aloud the king was come. And all the people with delight Kept gazing on their king, Attended by that youth so bright, The glorious Rishyasring. When to his home the king had brought The hermit's saintly son, He deemed that all his task was wrought, And all he prayed for won. And lords who saw that stranger dame So beautiful to view, Rejoiced within their hearts, and came And paid her honour too. There Rishyasring passed blissful days, Graced like the king with love and praise And shone in glorious light with her, Sweet Santa, for his minister, As Brahma's son Vasishtha, he Who wedded Saint Arundhati.(84)

Again the spring with genial heat Returning made the year complete. To win him sons, without delay His vow the king resolved to pay: And to Vasishtha, saintly man, In modest words this speech began: "Prepare the rite with all things fit As is ordained in Holy Writ, And keep with utmost care afar Whate'er its sacred forms might mar. Thou art, my lord, my trustiest guide, Kind-hearted, and my friend beside; So is it meet thou undertake This heavy task for duty's sake." Then he, of twice-born men the best, His glad assent at once expressed: "Fain will I do whate'er may be Desired, O honoured King, by thee." To ancient priests he spoke, who, trained In holy rites, deep skill had gained: "Here guards be stationed, good and sage Religious men of trusted age. And various workmen send and call, Who frame the door and build the wall: With men of every art and trade, Who read the stars and ply the spade, And mimes and minstrels hither bring, And damsels trained to dance and sing." Then to the learned men he said, In many a page of Scripture read: "Be yours each rite performed to see According to the king's decree. And stranger Brahmans quickly call To this great rite that welcomes all. Pavilions for the princes, decked With art and ornament, erect, And handsome booths by thousands made The Brahman visitors to shade, Arranged in order side by side, With meat and drink and all supplied. And ample stables we shall need For many an elephant and steed: And chambers where the men may lie, And vast apartments, broad and high, Fit to receive the countless bands Of warriors come from distant lands. For our own people too provide Sufficient tents, extended wide, And stores of meat and drink prepare, And all that can be needed there. And food in plenty must be found For guests from all the country round. Of various viands presents make, For honour, not for pity's sake, That fit regard and worship be Paid to each caste in due degree.

The monarch, as Kaikeyi pressed With cruel words her dire request, Stood for a time absorbed in thought While anguish in his bosom wrought. "Does some wild dream my heart assail? Or do my troubled senses fail? Does some dire portent scare my view? Or frenzy's stroke my soul subdue?" Thus as he thought, his troubled mind In doubt and dread no rest could find, Distressed and trembling like a deer Who sees the dreaded tigress near. On the bare ground his limbs he threw, And many a long deep sigh he drew, Like a wild snake, with fury blind, By charms within a ring confined. Once as the monarch's fury woke, "Shame on thee!" from his bosom broke, And then in sense-bewildering pain He fainted on the ground again. At length, when slowly strength returned, He answered as his eyeballs burned With the wild fury of his ire Consuming her, as 'twere, with fire: "Fell traitress, thou whose thoughts design The utter ruin of my line, What wrong have I or Rama done? Speak murderess, speak thou wicked one, Seeks he not evermore to please Thee with all sonlike courtesies? By what persuasion art thou led To bring this ruin on his head? Ah me, that fondly unaware I brought thee home my life to share, Called daughter of a king, in truth A serpent with a venomed tooth! What fault can I pretend to find In Rama praised by all mankind, That I my darling should forsake? No, take my life, my glory take: Let either queen be from me torn, But not my well-loved eldest-born. Him but to see is highest bliss, And death itself his face to miss. The world may sunless stand, the grain May thrive without the genial rain, But if my Rama be not nigh My spirit from its frame will fly. Enough, thine impious plan forgo, O thou who plottest sin and woe. My head before thy feet, I kneel, And pray thee some compassion feel. O wicked dame, what can have led Thy heart to dare a plot so dread?

Wild with the rage he could not calm, Sumantra, grinding palm on palm, His head in quick impatience shook, And sighed with woe he could not brook. He gnashed his teeth, his eyes were red, From his changed face the colour fled. In rage and grief that knew no law, The temper of the king he saw. With his word-arrows swift and keen He shook the bosom of the queen. With scorn, as though its lightning stroke Would blast her body, thus he spoke: "Thou, who, of no dread sin afraid, Hast Dasaratha's self betrayed, Lord of the world, whose might sustains Each thing that moves or fixed remains, What direr crime is left thee now? Death to thy lord and house art thou, Whose cruel deeds the king distress, Mahendra's peer in mightiness, Firm as the mountain's rooted steep, Enduring as the Ocean's deep. Despise not Dasaratha, he Is a kind lord and friend to thee. A loving wife in worth outruns The mother of ten million sons. Kings, when their sires have passed away, Succeed by birthright to the sway. Ikshvaku's son still rules the state, Yet thou this rule wouldst violate. Yea, let thy son, Kaikeyi, reign, Let Bharat rule his sire's domain. Thy will, O Queen, shall none oppose: We all will go where Rama goes. No Brahman, scorning thee, will rest Within the realm thou governest, But all will fly indignant hence: So great thy trespass and offence. I marvel, when thy crime I see, Earth yawns not quick to swallow thee; And that the Brahman saints prepare No burning scourge thy soul to scare, With cries of shame to smite thee, bent Upon our Rama's banishment. The Mango tree with axes fell, And tend instead the Neem tree well, Still watered with all care the tree Will never sweet and pleasant be. Thy mother's faults to thee descend, And with thy borrowed nature blend. True is the ancient saw: the Neem Can ne'er distil a honeyed stream. Taught by the tale of long ago Thy mother's hateful sin we know.

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."

When those who forth with Rama went Back to the town their steps had bent, It seemed that death had touched and chilled Those hearts which piercing sorrow filled. Each to his several mansion came, And girt by children and his dame, From his sad eyes the water shed That o'er his cheek in torrents spread. All joy was fled: oppressed with cares No bustling trader showed his wares. Each shop had lost its brilliant look, Each householder forbore to cook. No hand with joy its earnings told, None cared to win a wealth of gold, And scarce the youthful mother smiled To see her first, her new-born child. In every house a woman wailed, And her returning lord assailed With keen taunt piercing like the steel That bids the tusked monster kneel: "What now to them is wedded dame, What house and home and dearest aim, Or son, or bliss, or gathered store, Whose eyes on Rama look no more! There is but one in all the earth, One man alone of real worth, Lakshman, who follows, true and good, Rama, with Sita, through the wood. Made holy for all time we deem Each pool and fountain, lake and stream, If great Kakutstha's son shall choose Their water for his bath to use. Each forest, dark with lovely trees, Shall yearn Kakutstha's son to please; Each mountain peak and woody hill, Each mighty flood and mazy rill, Each rocky height, each shady grove Where the blest feet of Rama rove, Shall gladly welcome with the best Of all they have their honoured guest. The trees that clustering blossoms bear, And bright-hued buds to gem their hair, The heart of Rama shall delight, And cheer him on the breezy height. For him the upland slopes will show The fairest roots and fruit that grow, And all their wealth before him fling Ere the due hour of ripening. For him each earth-upholding hill Its crystal water shall distil, And all its floods shall be displayed In many a thousand-hued cascade.

They trembled, and their dread increased, Fearing his breath of life had ceased, And bending low their heads, they shook Like the tall reeds that fringe the brook. In doubt and terror down they knelt, Looked on his face, his cold hand felt, And then the gloomy truth appeared Of all their hearts had darkly feared. Kausalya and Sumitra, worn With weeping for their sons, forlorn, Woke not, but lay in slumber deep And still as death's unending sleep. Bowed down by grief, her colour fled, Her wonted lustre dull and dead, Kausalya shone not, like a star Obscured behind a cloudy bar. Beside the king's her couch was spread, And next was Queen Sumitra's bed, Who shone no more with beauty's glow, Her face bedewed with tears of woe. There lapped in sleep each wearied queen, There as in sleep, the king was seen; And swift the troubling thought came o'er Their spirits that he breathed no more. At once with wailing loud and high The matrons shrieked a bitter cry, As widowed elephants bewail Their dead lord in the woody vale. At the loud shriek that round them rang, Kausalya and Sumitra sprang Awakened from their beds, with eyes Wide open in their first surprise. Quick to the monarch's side they came, And saw and touched his lifeless frame; One cry, O husband! forth they sent, And prostrate to the ground they went. The king of Kosal's daughter(338) there Writhed, with the dust on limb and hair Lustreless, as a star might lie Hurled downward from the glorious sky. When the king's voice in death was stilled, The women who the chamber filled Saw, like a widow elephant slain, Kausalya prostrate in her pain. Then all the monarch's ladies led By Queen Kaikeyi at their head, Poured forth their tears, and weeping so, Sank on the ground, consumed by woe. The cry of grief so long and loud Went up from all the royal crowd, That, doubled by the matron train, It made the palace ring again.

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.