Ramayana on Work

As, praying for her husband's sake, The faultless dame to Ganga spake, To the right bank the vessel flew With her whose heart was right and true. Soon as the bark had crossed the wave, The lion leader of the brave, Leaving the vessel on the strand, With wife and brother leapt to land. Then Rama thus the prince addressed Who filled with joy Sumitra's breast: "Be thine alike to guard and aid In peopled spot, in lonely shade. Do thou, Sumitra's son, precede: Let Sita walk where thou shalt lead. Behind you both my place shall be, To guard the Maithil dame and thee. For she, to woe a stranger yet, No toil or grief till now has met; The fair Videhan will assay The pains of forest life to-day. To-day her tender feet must tread Rough rocky wilds around her spread: No tilth is there, no gardens grow, No crowding people come and go."

When all the toil and search was vain He sought his leafy home again. 'Twas empty still: all scattered lay The seats of grass in disarray. He raised his shapely arms on high And spoke aloud with bitter cry: "Where is the Maithil dame?" he said, "O, whither has my darling fled? Who can have borne away my dame, Or feasted on her tender frame? If, Sita hidden by some tree, Thou joyest still to mock at me, Cease, cease thy cruel sport, and take Compassion, or my heart will break. Bethink thee, love, the gentle fawns With whom thou playest on the lawns, Impatient for thy coming wait With streaming eyes disconsolate. Reft of my love, I needs must go Hence to the shades weighed down by woe. The king our sire will see me there, And cry, "O perjured Rama, where, Where is thy faith, that thou canst speed From exile ere the time decreed?"

Think not of wretched Rama: he Is less than nothing now to thee. Stript of his glory, poor, dethroned, A wanderer by his friends disowned, On the cold earth he lays his head, Or is with toil and misery dead. And if perchance he lingers yet, His eyes on thee shall ne'er be set. Could he, that mighty monarch, who Was named Hiranyakasipu, Could he who wore the garb of gold Win Glory back from Indra's hold?(831) O lady of the lovely smile, Whose eyes the sternest heart beguile, In all thy radiant beauty dressed My heart and soul thou ravishest. What though thy robe is soiled and worn, And no bright gems thy limbs adorn, Thou unadorned art dearer far Than all my loveliest consorts are. My royal home is bright and fair; A thousand beauties meet me there, But come, my glorious love, and be The queen of all those dames and me."

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

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

"One day," Vibhishan cried, "one day Shall bear thee o'er that length of way. Is not the wondrous chariot mine, Named Pushpak, wrought by hands divine. The prize which Ravan seized of old Victorious o'er the God of Gold? This chariot, kept with utmost care, Will waft thee through the fields of air, And thou shalt light unwearied down In fair Ayodhya's royal town. But yet if aught that I have done Has pleased thee well, O Raghu's son; If still thou carest for thy friend, Some little time in Lanka spend; There after toil of battle rest Within my halls an honoured guest." Again the son of Raghu spake: "Thy life was perilled for my sake. Thy counsel gave me priceless aid: All honours have been richly paid. Scarce can my love refuse, O best Of giant kind, thy last request. But still I yearn once more to see My home and all most dear to me; Nor can I brook one hour's delay: Forgive me, speed me on my way."

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

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

The trees the witching influence knew, And bent with fruits of loveliest hue, And Rama's consecration lent New sweetness to each flowret's scent. The monarch, joy of Raghu's line, Gave largess to the Brahmans, kine And steeds unnumbered, wealth untold Of robes and pearls and gems and gold. A jewelled chain, whose lustre passed The glory of the sun, he cast About his friend Sugriva's neck; And, Angad Bali's son to deck, He gave a pair of armlets bright With diamond and lazulite. A string of pearls of matchless hue Which gleams like tender moonlight threw Adorned with gems of brightest sheen, He gave to grace his darling queen. The offering from his hand received A moment on her bosom heaved; Then from her neck the chain she drew, A glance on all the Vanars threw, And wistful eyes on Rama bent As still she held the ornament. Her wish he knew, and made reply To that mute question of her eye: "Yea, love; the chain on him bestow Whose wisdom truth and might we know, The firm ally, the faithful friend Through toil and peril to the end."

Thus having said to Lakshman, he Addressed in turn Sumantra: "Be Most diligent to-night, my friend, And with due care thy horses tend." The sun had set: Sumantra tied His noble horses side by side, Gave store of grass with liberal hand, And rested near them on the strand. Each paid the holy evening rite, And when around them fell the night, The charioteer, with Lakshman's aid, A lowly bed for Rama laid. To Lakshman Rama bade adieu, And then by Sita's side he threw His limbs upon the leafy bed Their care upon the bank had spread. When Lakshman saw the couple slept, Still on the strand his watch he kept, Still with Sumantra there conversed, And Rama's varied gifts rehearsed. All night he watched, nor sought repose, Till on the earth the sun arose: With him Sumantra stayed awake, And still of Rama's virtues spake. Thus, near the river's grassy shore Which herds unnumbered wandered o'er, Repose, untroubled, Rama found, And all the people lay around. The glorious hero left his bed, Looked on the sleeping crowd, and said To Lakshman, whom each lucky line Marked out for bliss with surest sign:

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

Then Kumbhakarna's anger woke, And wroth at Ravan's words he spoke: "O Monarch, when thy ravished eyes First looked upon thy lovely prize, Then was the time to bid us scan Each peril and mature a plan. Blest is the king who acts with heed, And ne'er repents one hasty deed; And hapless he whose troubled soul Mourns over days beyond control. Thou hast, in beauty's toils ensnared, A desperate deed of boldness dared; By fortune saved ere Rama's steel One wound, thy mortal bane, could deal. But, Ravan, as the deed is done, The toil of war I will not shun. This arm, O rover of the night, Thy foemen to the earth shall smite, Though Indra with the Lord of Flame, The Sun and Storms, against me came. E'en Indra, monarch of the skies, Would dread my club and mountain size, Shrink from these teeth and quake to hear The thunders of my voice of fear. No second dart shall Rama cast: The first he aims shall be the last. He falls, and these dry lips shall drain The blood of him my hand has slain; And Sita, when her champion dies, Shall be thine undisputed prize."

How shall I pass in dark distress My long lone days of wretchedness Without my Rama's face, as bright As the full moon to cheer my sight? Alas, my cares thy steps to train, And fasts, and vows, and prayers are vain. Hard, hard, I ween, must be this heart To hear this blow nor burst apart, As some great river bank, when first The floods of Rain-time on it burst. No, Fate that speeds not will not slay, Nor Yama's halls vouchsafe me room, Or, like a lion's weeping prey, Death now had borne me to my doom. Hard is my heart and wrought of steel That breaks not with the crushing blow, Or in the pangs this day I feel My lifeless frame had sunk below. Death waits his hour, nor takes me now: But this sad thought augments my pain, That prayer and largess, fast and vow, And Heavenward service are in vain. Ah me, ah me! with fruitless toil Of rites austere a child I sought: Thus seed cast forth on barren soil Still lifeless lies and comes to naught. If ever wretch by anguish grieved Before his hour to death had fled, I mourning, like a cow bereaved, Had been this day among the dead."

A captive in the snare of truth, Weeping, distressed with woe and ruth, Thus spake the monarch, while the queen Kaikeyi urged him on unseen: "Go then, O Rama, and begin Thy course unvext by fear and sin: Go, my beloved son, and earn Success, and joy, and safe return. So fast the bonds of duty bind. O Raghu's son, thy truthful mind, That naught can turn thee back, or guide Thy will so strongly fortified. But O, a little longer stay, Nor turn thy steps this night away, That I one little day---alas! One only---with my son may pass. Me and thy mother do not slight, But stay, my son, with me to-night; With every dainty please thy taste, And seek to-morrow morn the waste. Hard is thy task, O Raghu's son, Dire is the toil thou wilt not shun, Far to the lonely wood to flee, And leave thy friends for love of me. I swear it by my truth, believe, For thee, my son, I deeply grieve, Misguided by the traitress dame With hidden guile like smouldering flame. Now, by her wicked counsel stirred, Thou fain wouldst keep my plighted word. No marvel that my eldest born Would hold me true when I have sworn."

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

Sure in some antenatal time Were children, by Kausalya's crime, Torn from their mothers' arms away, And hence she mourns this evil day. She for her child no toil would spare Tending me long with pain and care; Now in the hour of fruitage she Has lost that son, ah, woe is me. O Lakshman, may no matron e'er A son so doomed to sorrow bear As I, my mother's heart who rend With anguish that can never end. The Sarika,(325) methinks, possessed More love than glows in Rama's breast. Who, as the tale is told to us, Addressed the stricken parrot thus: "Parrot, the capturer's talons tear, While yet alone thou flutterest there, Before his mouth has closed on me:" So cried the bird, herself to free. Reft of her son, in childless woe, My mother's tears for ever flow: Ill-fated, doomed with grief to strive, What aid can she from me derive? Pressed down by care, she cannot rise From sorrow's flood wherein she lies. In righteous wrath my single arm Could, with my bow, protect from harm Ayodhya's town and all the earth: But what is hero prowess worth? Lest breaking duty's law I sin, And lose the heaven I strive to win, The forest life today I choose, And kingly state and power refuse."

The aged votaress pure of taint, Revered by every perfect saint, Rose to her feet by Rama's side And thus in gentle tones replied: "My penance meed this day I see Complete, my lord, in meeting thee. This day the fruit of birth I gain, Nor have I served the saints in vain. I reap rich fruits of toil and vow, And heaven itself awaits me now, When I, O chief of men, have done Honour to thee the godlike one. I feel, great lord, thy gentle eye My earthly spirit purify, And I, brave tamer of thy foes, Shall through thy grace in bliss repose. Thy feet by Chitrakuta strayed When those great saints whom I obeyed, In dazzling chariots bright of hue, Hence to their heavenly mansions flew. As the high saints were borne away I heard their holy voices say: "In this pure grove, O devotee, Prince Rama soon will visit thee. When he and Lakshman seek this shade, Be to thy guests all honour paid. Him shalt thou see, and pass away To those blest worlds which ne'er decay." To me, O mighty chief, the best Of lofty saints these words addressed. Laid up within my dwelling lie Fruits of each sort which woods supply,-- Food culled for thee in endless store From every tree on Pampa's shore."

He spoke no more: and Angad heard The menace of the mighty bird; And thus, while anguish filled his breast, The noble Hanuman addressed: "Vivasvat's(762) son has sought this place For vengeance on the Vanar race. See, Yama, wroth for Sita's sake, Is come our guilty lives to take. Our king's decree is left undone, And naught achieved for Raghu's son. In duty have we failed, and hence Comes punishment for dire offence. Have we not heard the marvels wrought By King Jatayus,(763) how he fought With Ravan's might, and, nobly brave, Perished, the Maithil queen to save? There is no living creature, none, But loves to die for Raghu's son, And in long toils and dangers we Have placed our lives in jeopardy. Blest is Jatayus, he who gave His life the Maithil queen to save, And proved his love for Rama well When by the giant's hand he fell. Now raised to bliss and high renown He fears not fierce Sugriva's frown. Alas, alas! what miseries spring From that rash promise of the king!(764) His own sad death, and Rama sent With Lakshman forth to banishment: The Maithil lady borne away: Jatayus slain in mortal fray: The fall of Bali when the dart Of Rama quivered in his heart: And, after toil and pain and care, Our misery and deep despair."

Again the Vanar chief began Each chamber, bower, and hall to scan. In vain: he found not her he sought, And pondered thus in bitter thought: "Ah me the Maithil queen is slain: She, ever true and free from stain, The fiend's entreaty has denied, And by his cruel hand has died. Or has she sunk, by terror killed, When first she saw the palace filled With female monsters evil miened Who wait upon the robber fiend? No battle fought, no might displayed, In vain this anxious search is made; Nor shall my steps, made slow by shame, Because I failed to find the dame, Back to our lord the king be bent, For he is swift to punishment. In every bower my feet have been, The dames of Ravan have I seen; But Rama's spouse I seek in vain, And all my toil is fruitless pain. How shall I meet the Vanar band I left upon the ocean strand? How, when they bid me speak, proclaim These tidings of defeat and shame? How shall I look on Angad's eye? What words will Jambavan reply? Yet dauntless hearts will never fail To win success though foes assail, And I this sorrow will subdue And search the palace through and through, Exploring with my cautious tread Each spot as yet unvisited."

The heavenly Father smiled in glee, And said, "O best of hermits, see, A verse, unconscious, thou hast made; No longer be the task delayed. Seek not to trace, with labour vain, The unpremeditated strain. The tuneful lines thy lips rehearsed Spontaneous from thy bosom burst. Then come, O best of seers, relate The life of Rama good and great, The tale that saintly Narad told, In all its glorious length unfold. Of all the deeds his arm has done Upon this earth, omit not one, And thus the noble life record Of that wise, brave, and virtuous lord. His every act to day displayed, His secret life to none betrayed: How Lakshman, how the giants fought; With high emprise and hidden thought: And all that Janak's child(49) befell Where all could see, where none could tell. The whole of this shall truly be Made known, O best of saints, to thee. In all thy poem, through my grace, No word of falsehood shall have place. Begin the story, and rehearse The tale divine in charming verse. As long as in this firm-set land The streams shall flow, the mountains stand, So long throughout the world, be sure, The great Ramayan shall endure.(50) While the Ramayan's ancient strain Shall glorious in the earth remain, To higher spheres shalt thou arise And dwell with me above the skies."

Their eager hearts with transport burned As to their task the heroes turned. Obedient to their father, they Through earth's recesses forced their way. With iron arms' unflinching toil Each dug a league beneath the soil. Earth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain, As emulous they plied amain Sharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar, Hard as the bolts of Indra are. Then loud the horrid clamour rose Of monsters dying neath their blows, Giant and demon, fiend and snake, That in earth's core their dwelling make. They dug, in ire that naught could stay, Through sixty thousand leagues their way, Cleaving the earth with matchless strength Till hell itself they reached at length. Thus digging searched they Jambudvip(184) With all its hills and mountains steep. Then a great fear began to shake The heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake, And all distressed in spirit went Before the Sire Omnipotent. With signs of woe in every face They sought the mighty Father's grace, And trembling still and ill at ease Addressed their Lord in words like these: "The sons of Sagar, Sire benign, Pierce the whole earth with mine on mine, And as their ruthless work they ply Innumerable creatures die. "This is the thief," the princes say, "Who stole our victim steed away. This marred the rite, and caused us ill, And so their guiltless blood they spill."

His children's speech King Sagar heard, And answered thus, to anger stirred: "Dig on, and ne'er your labour stay Till through earth's depths you force your way. Then smite the robber dead, and bring The charger back with triumphing." The sixty thousand chiefs obeyed: Deep through the earth their way they made. Deep as they dug and deeper yet The immortal elephant they met, Famed Virupaksha(188) vast of size, Upon whose head the broad earth lies: The mighty beast who earth sustains With shaggy hills and wooded plains. When, with the changing moon, distressed, And longing for a moment's rest, His mighty head the monster shakes, Earth to the bottom reels and quakes. Around that warder strong and vast With reverential steps they passed. Nor, when the honour due was paid, Their downward search through earth delayed. But turning from the east aside Southward again their task they plied. There Mahapadma held his place, The best of all his mighty race, Like some huge hill, of monstrous girth, Upholding on his head the earth. When the vast beast the princes saw, They marvelled and were filled with awe. The sons of high-souled Sagar round That elephant in reverence wound. Then in the western region they With might unwearied cleft their way. There saw they with astonisht eyes Saumanas, beast of mountain size. Round him with circling steps they went With greetings kind and reverent.

His mandate Raghu's sons obeyed, And to their sire obeisance made, Where high he stood above the car In wondrous light that shone afar, His limbs in radiant garments dressed Whereon no spot of dust might rest. When on the son he loved so well The eyes of Dasaratha fell, He strained the hero to his breast And thus with gentle words addressed: "No joy to me is heavenly bliss, For there these eyes my Rama miss. Enrolled on high with saint and sage, Thy woes, dear son, my thoughts engage. Kaikeyi's guile I ne'er forget: Her cruel words will haunt me yet, Which sent thee forth, my son, to roam The forest far from me and home. Now when I look on each dear face, And hold you both in fond embrace, My heart is full of joy to see The sons I love from danger free. Now know I what the Gods designed, And how in Rama's form enshrined The might of Purushottam lay, The tyrant of the worlds to slay. Ah, how Kausalya will rejoice To hear again her darling's voice, And, all thy weary wanderings o'er, To gaze upon thy face once more. Ah blest, for ever blest are they Whose eyes shall see the glorious day Of thy return in joy at last, Thy term of toil and exile past. Ayodhya's lord, begin thy reign, And day by day new glory gain."

"By Bali's conquering might oppressed, Of power and kingship dispossessed, Loaded with taunts of scorn and hate I left my realm and royal state. He tore away my consort: she Was dearer than my life to me, And many a friend to me and mine In hopeless chains was doomed to pine. With wicked thoughts, unsated still, Me whom he wrongs he yearns to kill; And spies of Vanar race, who tried To slay me, by this hand have died. Moved by this constant doubt and fear I saw thee, Prince, and came not near. When woe and peril gather round A foe in every form is found. Save Hanuman, O Raghu's son, And these, no friend is left me, none. Through their kind aid, a faithful band Who guard their lord from hostile hand, Rest when their chieftain rests and bend Their steps where'er he lists to wend,-- Through them alone, in toil and pain, My wretched life I still sustain. Enough, for thou hast heard in brief The story of my pain and grief. His mighty strength all regions know, My brother, but my deadly foe. Ah, if the proud oppressor fell, His death would all my woe dispel. Yea, on my cruel conqueror's fall My joy depends, my life, my all. This were the end and sure relief, O Rama, of my tale of grief. Fair be his lot or dark with woe, No comfort like a friend I know."

"Rama," he cried, "a prince whose sway All peoples of the earth obey, To Dandak's tangled forest came With his brave brother and his dame. From that dark shade of forest boughs The giant Ravan stole his spouse. Our king Sugriva's orders send These Vanars forth to aid his friend, That so the lady be restored Uninjured to her sorrowing lord. With Angad and the rest, this band Has wandered through the southern land, With careful search in every place The lady and the fiend to trace. We roamed the southern region o'er, And stood upon the ocean's shore. By hunger pressed our strength gave way; Beneath the spreading trees we lay, And cried, worn out with toil and woe, "No farther, comrades, can we go." Then as our sad eyes looked around We spied an opening in the ground, Where all was gloomy dark behind The creeping plants that o'er it twined. Forth trooping from the dark-recess Came swans and mallards numberless, With drops upon their shining wings As newly bathed where water springs. "On, comrades, to the cave," I cried And all within the portal hied. Each clasping fast another's hand Far onward pressed the Vanar band; And still, as thirst and hunger drove, We traced the mazes of the grove. Here thou with hospitable care Hast fed us with the noblest fare, Preserving us, about to die, With this thy plentiful supply. But how, O pious lady, say, May we thy gracious boon repay?"

In pleasant words then Rama gave His best to Lakshman prompt and brave, As Brahma speaks for Him to hear Who rules the Gods' celestial sphere: "To the two best of Brahmans run; Agastya bring, and Kusik's son, And precious gifts upon them rain, Like fostering floods upon the grain. O long-armed Prince of Raghu's line, Delight them with a thousand kine, And many a fair and costly gem, With gold and silver, give to them. To him, so deep in Scripture, who, To Queen Kausalya, ever true, Serves her with blessing and respect, Chief of the Taittiriya sect(308)-- To him, with women-slaves, present A chariot rich with ornament, And costly robes of silk beside, Until the sage be satisfied. On Chitraratha, true and dear, My tuneful bard and charioteer, Gems, robes, and plenteous wealth confer-- Mine ancient friend and minister. And these who go with staff in hand, Grammarians trained, a numerous band, Who their deep study only prize, Nor think of other exercise, Who toil not, loving dainty fare, Whose praises e'en the good declare-- On these be eighty cars bestowed, And each with precious treasures load. A thousand bulls for them suffice, Two hundred elephants of price, And let a thousand kine beside The dainties of each meal provide. The throng who sacred girdles wear, And on Kausalya wait with care-- A thousand golden coins shall please, Son of Sumitra, each of these. Let all, dear Lakshman of the train These special gifts of honour gain: My mother will rejoice to know Her Brahmans have been cherished so."

Thus forth in quest of Sita went The legions King Sugriva sent. To many a distant town they hied By many a lake and river's side. As their great sovereign's order taught, Through valleys, plains, and groves they sought. They toiled unresting through the day: At night upon the ground they lay Where the tall trees, whose branches swayed Beneath their fruit, gave pleasant shade. Then, when a weary month was spent, Back to Prasravan's hill they went, And stood with faces of despair Before their king Sugriva there. Thus, having wandered through the east, Great Vinata his labours ceased, And weary of the fruitless pain Returned to meet the king again, Brave Satabali to the north Had led his Vanar legions forth. Now to Sugriva he sped With all his host dispirited. Sushen the western realms had sought, And homeward now his legions brought. All to Sugriva came, where still He sat with Rama on the hill. Before their sovereign humbly bent And thus addressed him reverent: "On every hill our steps have been, By wood and cave and deep ravine; And all the wandering brooks we know Throughout the land that seaward flow, Our feet by thy command have traced The tangled thicket and the waste, And dens and dingles hard to pass for creeping plants and matted grass. Well have we searched with toil and pain, And monstrous creatures have we slain But Hanuman of noblest mind The Maithil lady yet will find; For to his quarter of the sky(749) The robber fiend was seen to fly."

Then Matali to Rama cried: "Let other arms the day decide. Why wilt thou strive with useless toil And see his might thy efforts foil? Launch at the foe thy dart whose fire Was kindled by the Almighty Sire." He ceased: and Raghu's son obeyed: Upon his string the hero laid An arrow, like a snake that hissed. Whose fiery flight had never missed: The arrow Saint Agastya gave And blessed the chieftain's life to save That dart the Eternal Father made The Monarch of the Gods to aid; By Brahma's self on him bestowed When forth to fight Lord Indra rode. 'Twas feathered with the rushing wind; The glowing sun and fire combined To the keen point their splendour lent; The shaft, ethereal element, By Meru's hill and Mandar, pride Of mountains, had its weight supplied. He laid it on the twisted cord, He turned the point at Lanka's lord, And swift the limb-dividing dart Pierced the huge chest and cleft the heart, And dead he fell upon the plain Like Vritra by the Thunderer slain. The Rakahas host when Ravan fell Sent forth a wild terrific yell, Then turned and fled, all hope resigned, Through Lanka's gates, nor looked behind. His voice each joyous Vanar raised, And Rama, conquering Rama, praised. Soft from celestial minstrels came The sound of music and acclaim. Soft, fresh, and cool, a rising breeze Brought odours from the heavenly trees, And ravishing the sight and smell A wondrous rain of blossoms fell: And voices breathed round Raghu's son: "Champion of Gods, well done, well done."

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."

As to each warder beast he came And questioned all, his words the same, The honoured youth with gentle speech Drew eloquent reply from each, That fortune should his steps attend, And with the horse he home should wend. Cheered with the grateful answer, he Passed on with step more light and free, And reached with careless heart the place Where lay in ashes Sagar's race. Then sank the spirit of the chief Beneath that shock of sudden grief, And with a bitter cry of woe He mourned his kinsmen fallen so. He saw, weighed down by woe and care, The victim charger roaming there. Yet would the pious chieftain fain Oblations offer to the slain: But, needing water for the rite, He looked and there was none in sight His quick eye searching all around The uncle of his kinsmen found, King Garud, best beyond compare Of birds who wing the fields of air. Then thus unto the weeping man The son of Vinata(192) began: "Grieve not, O hero, for their fall Who died a death approved of all. Of mighty strength, they met their fate By Kapil's hand whom none can mate. Pour forth for them no earthly wave, A holier flood their spirits crave. If, daughter of the Lord of Snow, Ganga would turn her stream below, Her waves that cleanse all mortal stain Would wash their ashes pure again. Yea, when her flood whom all revere Rolls o'er the dust that moulders here, The sixty thousand, freed from sin, A home in Indra's heaven shall win. Go, and with ceaseless labour try To draw the Goddess from the sky. Return, and with thee take the steed; So shall thy grandsire's rite succeed."

Each paid to Heaven the offerings due, And none was godless or untrue In all that holy band. To Brahmans, as the laws ordain, The Warrior caste were ever fain The reverence due to pay; And these the Vaisyas' peaceful crowd, Who trade and toil for gain, were proud To honour and obey; And all were by the Sudras(70) served, Who never from their duty swerved, Their proper worship all addressed To Brahman, spirits, God, and guest. Pure and unmixt their rites remained, Their race's honour ne'er was stained.(71) Cheered by his grandsons, sons, and wife, Each passed a long and happy life. Thus was that famous city held By one who all his race excelled, Blest in his gentle reign, As the whole land aforetime swayed By Manu, prince of men, obeyed Her king from main to main. And heroes kept her, strong and brave, As lions guard their mountain cave: Fierce as devouring flame they burned, And fought till death, but never turned. Horses had she of noblest breed, Like Indra's for their form and speed, From Vahli's(72) hills and Sindhu's(73) sand, Vanayu(74) and Kamboja's land.(75) Her noble elephants had strayed Through Vindhyan and Himalayan shade, Gigantic in their bulk and height, Yet gentle in their matchless might. They rivalled well the world-spread fame Of the great stock from which they came, Of Vaman, vast of size, Of Mahapadma's glorious line, Thine, Anjan, and, Airavat, thine.(76) Upholders of the skies. With those, enrolled in fourfold class, Who all their mighty kin surpass, Whom men Matangas name, And Mrigas spotted black and white, And Bhadras of unwearied might, And Mandras hard to tame.(77) Thus, worthy of the name she bore,(78) Ayodhya for a league or more Cast a bright glory round, Where Dasaratha wise and great Governed his fair ancestral state, With every virtue crowned.

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

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)

He saw her trembling by his side, And looked upon her face and cried: "Lady, at length my task is done, And thou, the prize of war, art won, This arm my glory has retrieved, And all that man might do achieved; The insulting foe in battle slain And cleared mine honour from its stain. This day has made my name renowned And with success my labour crowned. Lord of myself, the oath I swore Is binding on my soul no more. If from my home my queen was reft, This arm has well avenged the theft, And in the field has wiped away The blot that on mine honour lay. The bridge that spans the foaming flood, The city red with giants' blood; The hosts by King Sugriva led Who wisely counselled, fought and bled; Vibhishan's love, our guide and stay-- All these are crowned with fruit to-day. But, lady, 'twas not love for thee That led mine army o'er the sea. 'Twas not for thee our blood was shed, Or Lanka filled with giant dead. No fond affection for my wife Inspired me in the hour of strife. I battled to avenge the cause Of honour and insulted laws. My love is fled, for on thy fame Lies the dark blot of sin and shame; And thou art hateful as the light That flashes on the injured sight. The world is all before thee: flee: Go where thou wilt, but not with me. How should my home receive again A mistress soiled with deathless stain? How should I brook the foul disgrace, Scorned by my friends and all my race? For Ravan bore thee through the sky, And fixed on thine his evil eye. About thy waist his arms he threw, Close to his breast his captive drew, And kept thee, vassal of his power, An inmate of his ladies' bower."

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."

All they who knew the joiner's art, Or distant ground in every part; Each busied in his several trade, To work machines or ply the spade; Deft workmen skilled to frame the wheel, Or with the ponderous engine deal; Guides of the way, and craftsmen skilled, To sink the well, make bricks, and build; And those whose hands the tree could hew, And work with slips of cut bamboo, Went forward, and to guide them, they Whose eyes before had seen the way. Then onward in triumphant mood Went all the mighty multitude. Like the great sea whose waves leap high When the full moon is in the sky. Then, in his proper duty skilled, Each joined him to his several guild, And onward in advance they went With every tool and implement. Where bush and tangled creeper lay With trenchant steel they made the way; They felled each stump, removed each stone, And many a tree was overthrown. In other spots, on desert lands, Tall trees were reared by busy hands. Where'er the line of road they took, They plied the hatchet, axe, and hook. Others, with all their strength applied, Cast vigorous plants and shrubs aside, In shelving valleys rooted deep, And levelled every dale and steep. Each pit and hole that stopped the way They filled with stones, and mud, and clay, And all the ground that rose and fell With busy care was levelled well. They bridged ravines with ceaseless toil, And pounded fine the flinty soil. Now here, now there, to right and left, A passage through the ground they cleft, And soon the rushing flood was led Abundant through the new-cut bed, Which by the running stream supplied With ocean's boundless waters vied. In dry and thirsty spots they sank Full many a well and ample tank, And altars round about them placed To deck the station in the waste.

"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."

But, brother, if thy fears be true, And this bright creature that we view Be fierce Maricha in disguise, Then by this hand he surely dies. For that dire fiend who spurns control With bloody hand and cruel soul, Has roamed this forest and dismayed The holiest saints who haunt the shade. Great archers, sprung of royal race, Pursuing in the wood the chase, Have fallen by his wicked art, And now my shaft shall strike his heart. Vatapi, by his magic power Made heedless saints his flesh devour, Then, from within their frames he rent Forth bursting from imprisonment. But once his art in senseless pride Upon the mightiest saint he tried, Agastya's self, and caused him taste The baited meal before him placed. Vatapi, when the rite was o'er, Would take the giant form he wore, But Saint Agastya knew his wile And checked the giant with smile. "Vatapi, thou with cruel spite Hast conquered many an anchorite The noblest of the Brahman caste,-- And now thy ruin comes at last." Now if my power he thus defies, This giant, like Vatapi dies, Daring to scorn a man like me, A self subduing devotee. Yea, as Agastya slew the foe, My hand shall lay Maricha low Clad in thine arms thy bow in hand, To guard the Maithil lady stand, With watchful eye and thoughtful breast Keeping each word of my behest I go, and hunting through the brake This wondrous deer will bring or take. Yea surely I will bring the spoil Returning from my hunter's toil See, Lakshman how my consort's eyes Are longing for the lovely prize. This day it falls, that I may win The treasure of so fair a skin. Do thou and Sita watch with care Lest danger seize you unaware. Swift from my bow one shaft will fly; The stricken deer will fall and die Then quickly will I strip the game And bring the trophy to my dame.

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.

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

The circling year had filled its course, And back was brought the wandering horse: Then upon Sarju's northern strand Began the rite the king had planned. With Rishyasring the forms to guide, The Brahmans to their task applied, At that great offering of the steed Their lofty-minded king decreed. The priests, who all the Scripture knew, Performed their part in order due, And circled round in solemn train As precepts of the law ordain. Pravargya rites(92) were duly sped: For Upasads(93) the flames were fed. Then from the plant(94) the juice was squeezed, And those high saints with minds well pleased Performed the mystic rites begun With bathing ere the rise of sun They gave the portion Indra's claim, And hymned the King whom none can blame. The mid-day bathing followed next, Observed as bids the holy text. Then the good priests with utmost care, In form that Scripture's rules declare, For the third time pure water shed On high souled Dasaratha's head. Then Rishyasring and all the rest To Indra and the Gods addressed Their sweet-toned hymn of praise and prayer, And called them in the rite to share. With sweetest song and hymn entoned They gave the Gods in heaven enthroned, As duty bids, the gifts they claim, The holy oil that feeds the flame. And many an offering there was paid, And not one slip in all was made. For with most careful heed they saw That all was done by Veda law. None, all those days, was seen oppressed By hunger or by toil distressed. Why speak of human kind? No beast Was there that lacked an ample feast. For there was store for all who came, For orphan child and lonely dame; The old and young were well supplied, The poor and hungry satisfied. Throughout the day ascetics fed, And those who roam to beg their bread: While all around the cry was still, "Give forth, give forth," and "Eat your fill." "Give forth with liberal hand the meal, And various robes in largess deal."

"Is this thy counsel, weak and base, Unworthy of thy giant race? Thy speech is fruitless, vain, thy toil Like casting seed on barren soil. No words of thine shall drive me back From Rama and the swift attack. A fool is he, inured to sin, And more, of human origin. The craven, at a woman's call To leave his sire, his mother, all The friends he loved, the power and sway, And hasten to the woods away! But now his anger will I rouse, Stealing away his darling spouse. I in thy sight will ravish her From Khara's cruel murderer. Upon this plan my soul is bent, And naught shall move my firm intent, Not if the way through demons led And Gods with Indra at their head. 'Tis thine, when questioned, to explain The hope and fear, the loss and gain, And, when thy king thy thoughts would know, The triumph or the danger show. A prudent counsellor should wait, And speak when ordered in debate, With hands uplifted, calm and meek, If honour and reward he seek. Or, when some prudent course he sees Which, spoken, may his king displease He should by hints of dexterous art His counsel to his lord impart. But prudent words are said in vain When the blunt speech brings grief and pain. A high-souled king will scarcely thank The man who shames his royal rank. Five are the shapes that kings assume, Of majesty, of grace, and gloom: Like Indra now, or Agni, now Like the dear Moon, with placid brow: Like mighty Varun now they show, Now fierce as He who rules below. O giant, monarchs lofty-souled Are kind and gentle, stern and bold, With gracious love their gifts dispense And swiftly punish each offence. Thus subjects should their rulers view With all respect and honour due. But folly leads thy heart to slight Thy monarch and neglect his right. Thou hast in lawless pride addressed With bitter words thy royal guest. I asked thee not my strength to scan, Or loss and profit in the plan.

When every rite was duly paid The princely brothers onward strayed, And eager in the lady's quest They turned their footsteps to the west. Through lonely woods that round them lay Ikshvaku's children made their way, And armed with bow and shaft and brand Pressed onward to the southern land. Thick trees and shrubs and creepers grew In the wild grove they hurried through. 'Twas dark and drear and hard to pass For tangled thorns and matted grass. Still onward with a southern course They made their way with vigorous force, And passing through the mazes stood Beyond that vast and fearful wood. With toil and hardship yet unspent Three leagues from Janasthan they went, And speeding on their way at last Within the wood of Krauncha(515) passed: A fearful forest wild and black As some huge pile of cloudy rack, Filled with all birds and beasts, where grew Bright blooms of every varied hue. On Sita bending every thought Through all the mighty wood they sought, And at the lady's loss dismayed Here for a while and there they stayed. Then turning farther eastward they Pursued three leagues their weary way, Passed Krauncha's wood and reached the grove Where elephants rejoiced to rove. The chiefs that awful wood surveyed Where deer and wild birds filled each glade, Where scarce a step the foot could take For tangled shrub and tree and brake. There in a mountain's woody side A cave the royal brothers spied, With dread abysses deep as hell, Where darkness never ceased to dwell. When, pressing on, the lords of men Stood near the entrance of the den, They saw within the dark recess A huge misshapen giantess; A thing the timid heart that shook With fearful shape and savage look. Terrific fiend, her voice was fierce, Long were her teeth to rend and pierce. The monster gorged her horrid feast Of flesh of many a savage beast, While her long locks, at random flung, Dishevelled o'er her shoulders hung. Their eyes the royal brothers raised, And on the fearful monster gazed.

(529) Hark, Lakshman, how the woods around With love-inspiring chants resound, Where birds in every bloom-crowned tree Pour forth their amorous minstrelsy. As though an eager gallant wooed A gentle maid by love subdued, Enamoured of her flowers the bee Darts at the wind-rocked Tila tree.(530) Asoka, brightest tree that grows, That lends a pang to lovers' woes, Hangs out his gorgeous bloom in scorn And mocks me as I weep forlorn. O Lakshman, turn thine eye and see Each blossom-laden Mango tree, Like a young lover gaily dressed Whom fond desire forbids to rest. Look, son of Queen Sumitra through The forest glades of varied hue, Where blooms are bright and grass is green The Kinnars(531) with their loves are seen. See, brother, see where sweet and bright Those crimson lilies charm the sight, And o'er the flood a radiance throw Fair as the morning's roseate glow. See, Pampa, most divinely sweet, The swan's and mallard's loved retreat, Shows her glad waters bright and clear, Where lotuses their heads uprear From the pure wave, and charm the view With mingled tints of red and blue. Each like the morning's early beams Reflected in the crystal gleams; And bees on their sweet toil intent Weigh down each tender filament. There with gay lawns the wood recedes; There wildfowl sport amid the reeds, There roedeer stand upon the brink, And elephants descend to drink. The rippling waves which winds make fleet Against the bending lilies beat, And opening bud and flower and stem Gleam with the drops that hang on them. Life has no pleasure left for me While my dear queen I may not see, Who loved so well those blooms that vie With the full splendour of her eye. O tyrant Love, who will not let My bosom for one hour forget The lost one whom I yearn to meet, Whose words were ever kind and sweet. Ah, haply might my heart endure This hopeless love that knows not cure, If spring with all his trees in flower Assailed me not with ruthless power.

But Hanuman still onward pressed With Tara, Angad, and the rest, Through Vindhya's pathless glens he sped And left no spot unvisited. He gazed from every mountain height, He sought each cavern dark as night, And wandered through the bloomy shade By pool and river and cascade, But, though they sought in every place, Of Sita yet they found no trace. On fruit and woodland berries fed Through many a lonely wild they sped, And reached at last, untouched by fear, A desert terrible and drear: A fruitless waste, a land of gloom Where trees were bare of leaf and bloom, Where every scanty stream was dried, And niggard earth her roots denied. No elephants through all the ground, No buffaloes or deer are found. There roams no tiger, pard, or bear, No creature of the wood is there. No bird displays his glittering wings, No tree, no shrub, no creeper springs. There rise no lilies from the flood, Resplendent with their flower and bud, Where the delighted bees may throng About the fragrance with their song. There lived a hermit Kandu named, For truth and wealth of penance famed. Whom fervent zeal and holy rite Had dowered with all-surpassing might. His little son, a ten year child-- So chanced it--perished in the wild. His death with fury stirred the sage, Who cursed the forest in his rage, Doomed from that hour to shelter none, A waste for bird and beast to shun. They searched by every forest edge, They searched each cave and mountain ledge, And thickets whence the water fell Wandering through the tangled dell. Striving to do Sugriva's will They roamed along each leafy rill. But vain were all endeavours, vain The careful search, the toil and pain. Through one dark grove they scarce could wind, So thick were creepers intertwined. There as they struggled through the wood Before their eyes an Asur(750) stood. High as a towering hill, his pride The very Gods in heaven defied. When on the fiend their glances fell Each braced him for the combat well.

Angad and Tara by his side, Again rose Hanuman and tried Each mountain cavern, dark and deep, And stony pass and wooded steep, The lion's and the tiger's home, By rushing torrents white with foam. Then with new ardour, south and west, O'er Vindhya's height the search they pressed. The day prescribed was near and they Still wandered on their weary way. They reached the southern land beset With woody mountains like a net. At length a mighty cave they spied That opened in a mountain's side. Where many a verdant creeper grew And o'er the mouth its tendrils threw. Thence issued crane, and swan, and drake, And trooping birds that love the lake. The Vanars rushed within to cool Their fevered lips in spring or pool. Vast was the cavern dark and dread, Where not a ray of light was shed; Yet not the more their eyesight failed, Their courage sank or valour quailed. On through the gloom the Vanars pressed With hunger, thirst, and toil distressed, Poor helpless wanderers, sad, forlorn, With wasted faces wan and worn. At length, when life seemed lost for aye, They saw a splendour as of day, A wondrous forest, fair and bright, Where golden trees shot flamy light. And lotus-covered pools were there With pleasant waters fresh and fair, And streams their rippling currents rolled By seats of silver and of gold. Fair houses reared their stately height Of burnished gold and lazulite, And glorious was the lustre thrown Through lattices of precious stone. And there were flowers and fruit on stems Of coral decked with rarest gems, And emerald leaves on silver trees, And honeycomb and golden bees. Then as the Vanars nearer drew, A holy woman met their view, Around her form was duly tied A garment of the blackdeer's hide.(751) Pure votaress she shone with light Of fervent zeal and holy rite. Then Hanuman before the rest With reverent words the dame addressed: "Who art thou? say: and who is lord Of this vast cave with treasures stored?"

Then rose the Vanar chiefs, and lent Their arms to aid the bird's descent; And Angad spake: "There lived of yore A noble Vanar king who bore The name of Riksharajas, great And brave and strong and fortunate. His sons were like their father: fame Knows Bali and Sugriva's name. Praised in all lands, a glorious king Was Bali, and from him I spring. Brave Rama, Dasaratha's heir, A glorious prince beyond compare, His sire and duty's law obeyed, And sought the depths of Dandak' shade Sita his well-beloved dame, And Lakshman, with the wanderer came. A giant watched his hour, and stole The sweet delight of Rama's soul. Jatayus, Dasaratha's friend, Swift succour to the dame would lend. Fierce Ravan from his car he felled, And for a time the prize withheld. But bleeding, weak with years, and tired, Beneath the demon's blows expired, Due rites at Rama's hands obtained, And bliss that ne'er shall minish, gained. Then Rama with Sugriva made A covenant for mutual aid, And Bali, to the field defied, By conquering Rama's arrow died. Sugriva then, by Rama's grace, Was monarch of the Vanar race. By his command a mighty host Seeks Rama's queen from coast to coast. Sent forth by him, in every spot We looked for her, but find her not. Vain is the toil, as though by night We sought to find the Day-God's light. In lands unknown at length we found A spacious cavern under ground, Whose vaults that stretch beneath the hill Were formed by Maya's magic skill. Through the dark maze our steps were bent, And wandering there a month we spent, And lost, in fruitless error, thus The days our king allotted us. Thus we though faithful have transgressed, And failed to keep our lord's behest. No chance of safety can we see, No lingering hope of life have we. Sugriva's wrath and Rama's hate Press on our souls with grievous weight: And we, because 'tis vain to fly, Resolve at length to fast and die."

"Ah me! o'erwhelmed with shame and weak With wounds," I cried, "I scarce can speak. My hapless brother once and I Our strength of flight resolved to try. And by our foolish pride impelled Our way through realms of ether held. We vowed before the saints who tread The wilds about Kailasa's head, That we with following wings would chase The swift sun to his resting place. Up on our soaring pinions through The fields of cloudless air we flew. Beneath us far, and far away, Like chariot wheels bright cities lay, Whence in wild snatches rose the song Of women mid the gay-clad throng, With sounds of sweetest music blent And many a tinkling ornament. Then as our rapid wings we strained The pathway of the sun we gained. Beneath us all the earth was seen Clad in her garb of tender green, And every river in her bed Meandered like a silver thread. We looked on Meru far below And Vindhya and the Lord of Snow, Like elephants that bend to cool Their fever in a lilied pool. But fervent heat and toil o'ercame The vigour of each yielding frame, Our weary hearts began to quail, And wildered sense to reel and fail. We knew not, fainting and distressed, The north or south or east or west. With a great strain mine eyes I turned Where the fierce sun before me burned, And seemed to my astonished eyes The equal of the earth in size.(775) At length, o'erpowered, Jatayus fell Without a word to say farewell, And when to earth I saw him hie I followed headlong from the sky.(776) With sheltering wings I intervened And from the sun his body screened, But lost, for heedless folly doomed, My pinions which the heat consumed. In Janasthan, I hear them say, My hapless brother fell and lay. I, pinionless and faint and weak, Dropped upon Vindhya's woody peak. Now with my swift wings burnt away, Reft of my brother and my sway, From this tall mountain's summit I Will cast me headlong down and die."

Thus spoke Prahasta in the zeal That moved him for the kingdom's weal. And thus the monarch, who pursued His own delight, his speech renewed: "In ease and bliss, in toil and pain, In doubts of duty, pleasure, gain, Your proper path I need not tell, For of yourselves ye know it well. The Storm-Gods, Moon, and planets bring New glory to their heavenly king,(919) And, ranged about your monarch, ye Give joy and endless fame to me. My secret counsel have I kept, While senseless Kumbhakarna slept. Six months the warrior's slumbers last And bind his torpid senses fast; But now his deep repose he breaks, The best of all our champions wakes. I captured, Rama's heart to wring, This daughter of Videha's king. And brought her from that distant land(920) Where wandered many a Rakshas band. Disdainful still my love she spurns, Still from each prayer and offering turns, Yet in all lands beneath the sun No dame may rival Sita, none, Her dainty waist is round and slight, Her cheek like autumn's moon is bright, And she like fruit in graven gold Mocks her(921) whom Maya framed of old. Faultless in form, how firmly tread Her feet whose soles are rosy red! Ah, as I gaze her beauty takes My spirit, and my passion wakes. Looking for Rama far away She sought with tears a year's delay Nor gazing on her love-lit eye Could I that earnest prayer deny. But baffled hopes and vain desire At length my patient spirit tire. How shall the sons of Raghu sweep To vengeance o'er the pathless deep? How shall they lead the Vanar train Across the monster-teeming main? One Vanar yet could find a way To Lanka's town, and burn and slay. Take counsel then, remembering still That we from men need fear no ill; And give your sentence in debate, For matchless is the power of fate. Assailed by you the Gods who dwell In heaven beneath our fury fell. And shall we fear these creatures bred In forests, by Sugriva led?

He spoke. The fairest of the fair Made for awhile her dwelling there, While day by day the wild delight Stayed vow austere and fervent rite There as the winsome charmer wove Her spells around him in the grove, And bound him in a golden chain, Five sweet years fled, and five again. Then Visvamitra woke to shame, And, fraught with anguish, memory came For quick he knew, with anger fired, That all the Immortals had conspired To lap his careless soul in ease, And mar his long austerities. "Ten years have past, each day and night Unheeded in delusive flight. So long my fervent rites were stayed, While thus I lay by love betrayed." As thus long sighs the hermit heaved, And, touched with deep repentance, grieved, He saw the fair one standing nigh With suppliant hands and trembling eye. With gentle words he bade her go, Then sought the northern hills of snow. With firm resolve he vowed to beat The might of love beneath his feet. Still northward to the distant side Of Kausiki(244), the hermit hide, And gave his life to penance there With rites austere most hard to bear. A thousand years went by, and still He laboured on the northern hill With pains so terrible and drear That all the Gods were chilled with fear, And Gods and saints, for swift advice, Met in the halls of Paradise. "Let Kusik's son," they counselled, "be A Mighty saint by just decree." His ear to hear their counsel lent The Sire of worlds, omnipotent. To him enriched by rites severe He spoke in accents sweet to hear: "Hail, Mighty Saint! dear son, all hail! Thy fervour wins, thy toils prevail. Won by thy vows and zeal intense I give this high preeminence." He to the General Sire replied, Not sad, nor wholly satisfied: "When thou, O Brahma, shalt declare The title, great beyond compare, Of Brahman saint my worthy meed, Hard earned by many a holy deed, Then may I deem in sooth I hold Each sense of body well controlled." Then Brahma cried, "Not yet, not yet: Toil on awhile O Anchoret!"

His utterance choked by tears that rolled Down from their fountains uncontrolled, With suppliant hands the charioteer Thus spake, the lady's heart to cheer: "Dismiss thy grief, despair, and dread That fills thy soul, of sorrow bred, For pain and anguish thrown aside, Will Rama in the wood abide. And Lakshman, with unfailing care Will guard the feet of Rama there, Earning, with governed sense, the prize That waits on duty in the skies. And Sita in the wild as well As in her own dear home will dwell; To Rama all her heart she gives, And free from doubt and terror lives. No faintest sign of care or woe The features of the lady show: Methinks Videha's pride was made For exile in the forest shade. E'en as of old she used to rove Delighted in the city's grove, Thus, even thus she joys to tread The woodlands uninhabited. Like a young child, her face as fair As the young moon, she wanders there. What though in lonely woods she stray Still Rama is her joy and stay: All his the heart no sorrow bends, Her very life on him depends. For, if her lord she might not see, Ayodhya like the wood would be. She bids him, as she roams, declare The names of towns and hamlets there, Marks various trees that meet her eye, And many a brook that hurries by, And Janak's daughter seems to roam One little league away from home When Rama or his brother speaks And gives the answer that she seeks. This, Lady, I remember well, Nor angry words have I to tell: Reproaches at Kaikeyi shot, Such, Queen, my mind remembers not." The speech when Sita's wrath was high, Sumantra passed in silence by, That so his pleasant words might cheer With sweet report Kausalya's ear. "Her moonlike beauty suffers not Though winds be rude and suns be hot: The way, the danger, and the toil Her gentle lustre may not soil. Like the red lily's leafy crown Or as the fair full moon looks down, So the Videhan lady's face Still shines with undiminished grace.

"King Janak, just and brave and strong, Who loves the right and hates the wrong, Well skilled in what the law ordains For Warriors, o'er Videha reigns. Guiding one morn the plough, his hand Marked out, for rites the sacred land, When, as the ploughshare cleft the earth, Child of the king I leapt to birth. Then as the ground he smoothed and cleared, He saw me all with dust besmeared, And on the new-found babe, amazed The ruler of Videha gazed. In childless love the monarch pressed The welcome infant to his breast: "My daughter," thus he cried, "is she:" And as his child he cared for me. Forth from the sky was heard o'erhead As 'twere a human voice that said: "Yea, even so: great King, this child Henceforth thine own be justly styled." Videha's monarch, virtuous souled, Rejoiced o'er me with joy untold, Delighting in his new-won prize, The darling of his heart and eyes. To his chief queen of saintly mind The precious treasure he consigned, And by her side she saw me grow, Nursed with the love which mothers know. Then as he saw the seasons fly, And knew my marriage-time was nigh, My sire was vexed with care, as sad As one who mourns the wealth he had: "Scorn on the maiden's sire must wait From men of high and low estate: The virgin's father all despise, Though Indra's peer, who rules the skies." More near he saw, and still more near, The scorn that filled his soul with fear, On trouble's billowy ocean tossed, Like one whose shattered bark is lost. My father knowing how I came, No daughter of a mortal dame, In all the regions failed to see A bridegroom meet to match with me. Each way with anxious thought he scanned, And thus at length the monarch planned: "The Bride's Election will I hold, With every rite prescribed of old." It pleased King Varun to bestow Quiver and shafts and heavenly bow Upon my father's sire who reigned, When Daksha his great rite ordained. Where was the man might bend or lift With utmost toil that wondrous gift?

Thou with thy brother, bow in hand, Beneath those ancient trees wilt stand, And thy keen arrows will not spare Wood-rovers who will meet thee there. For as the fuel food supplies That bids the dormant flame arise, Thus when the warrior grasps his bow He feels his breast with ardour glow. Deep in a holy grove, of yore, Where bird and beast from strife forbore, Suchi beneath the sheltering boughs, A truthful hermit kept his vows. Then Indra, Sachi's heavenly lord, Armed like a warrior with a sword, Came to his tranquil home to spoil The hermit of his holy toil, And left the glorious weapon there Entrusted to the hermit's care, A pledge for him to keep, whose mind To fervent zeal was all resigned. He took the brand: with utmost heed He kept it for the warrior's need: To keep his trust he fondly strove When roaming in the neighbouring grove: Whene'er for roots and fruit he strayed Still by his side he bore the blade: Still on his sacred charge intent, He took his treasure when he went. As day by day that brand he wore, The hermit, rich in merit's store From penance rites each thought withdrew, And fierce and wild his spirit grew. With heedless soul he spurned the right, And found in cruel deeds delight. So, living with the sword, he fell, A ruined hermit, down to hell. This tale applies to those who deal Too closely with the warrior's steel: The steel to warriors is the same As fuel to the smouldering flame. Sincere affection prompts my speech: I honour where I fain would teach. Mayst thou, thus armed with shaft and bow, So dire a longing never know As, when no hatred prompts the fray, These giants of the wood to slay: For he who kills without offence Shall win but little glory thence. The bow the warrior joys to bend Is lent him for a nobler end, That he may save and succour those Who watch in woods when pressed by foes. What, matched with woods, is bow or steel? What, warrior's arm with hermit's zeal?

"Wilt thou absorbed in pleasure, still Pursue unchecked thy selfish will: Nor turn thy heedless eyes to see The coming fate which threatens thee? The king who days and hours employs In base pursuit of vulgar joys Must in his people's sight be vile As fire that smokes on funeral pile. He who when duty calls him spares No time for thought of royal cares, Must with his realm and people all Involved in fatal ruin fall. As elephants in terror shrink From the false river's miry brink, Thus subjects from a monarch flee Whose face their eyes may seldom see, Who spends the hours for toil ordained In evil courses unrestrained. He who neglects to guard and hold His kingdom by himself controlled, Sinks nameless like a hill whose head Is buried in the ocean's bed. Thy foes are calm and strong and wise, Fiends, Gods, and warriors of the skies,-- How, heedless, wicked, weak, and vain, Wilt thou thy kingly state maintain? Thou, lord of giants, void of sense, Slave of each changing influence, Heedless of all that makes a king, Destruction on thy head wilt bring. O conquering chief, the prince, who boasts, Of treasury and rule and hosts, By others led, though lord of all, Is meaner than the lowest thrall. For this are monarchs said to be Long-sighted, having power to see Things far away by faithful eyes Of messengers and loyal spies. But aid from such thou wilt not seek: Thy counsellors are blind and weak, Or thou from these hadst surely known Thy legions and thy realm o'erthrown. Know, twice seven thousand, fierce in might, Are slain by Rama in the fight, And they, the giant host who led, Khara and Dushan, both are dead. Know, Rama with his conquering arm Has freed the saints from dread of harm, Has smitten Janasthan and made Asylum safe in Dandak's shade. Enslaved and dull, of blinded sight, Intoxicate with vain delight, Thou closest still thy heedless eyes To dangers in thy realm that rise. A king besotted, mean, unkind, Of niggard hand and slavish mind.

To Lakshman thus he cried: "Brother, I ween, beneath the sun, Of all mankind there lives not one So full of sin, whose hand has done Such cursed deeds as mine. For my sad heart with misery bleeds, As, guerdon of those evil deeds, Still greater woe to woe succeeds In never-ending line. A life of sin I freely chose, And from my past transgression flows A ceaseless flood of bitter woes My folly to repay. The fruit of sin has ripened fast, Through many a sorrow have I passed, And now the crowning grief at last Falls on my head to-day. From all my faithful friends I fled, My sire is numbered with the dead, My royal rank is forfeited, My mother far away. These woes on which I sadly think Fill, till it raves above the brink, The stream of grief in which I sink,-- The flood which naught can stay. Ne'er, brother, ne'er have I complained; Though long by toil and trouble pained, Without a murmur I sustained The woes of woodland life. But fiercer than the flames that rise When crackling wood the food supplies,-- Flashing a glow through evening skies,-- This sorrow for my wife. Some cruel fiend has seized the prey And torn my trembling love away, While, as he bore her through the skies, She shrieked aloud with frantic cries, In tones of fear which, wild and shrill, Retained their native sweetness still. Ah me, that breast so soft and sweet, For sandal's precious perfume meet, Now all detained with dust and gore, Shall meet my fond caress no more. That face, whose lips with tones so clear Made pleasant music, sweet to hear,-- With soft locks plaited o'er the brow,-- Some giant's hand is on it now. It smiles not, as the dear light fails When Rahu's jaw the moon assails. Ah, my true love! that shapely neck She loved with fairest chains to deck, The cruel demons rend, and drain The lifeblood from each mangled vein. Ah, when the savage monsters came And dragged away the helpless dame, The lady of the long soft eye Called like a lamb with piteous cry.

-- Fair mountain, lovely with the flow Of Pampa's waves that glide below,-- Lord of the Vanars(520) just and true, Strong, very glorious, bright to view, Unmatched in counsel, firm and meek, Bound by each word his lips may speak, Good, splendid, mighty, bold and brave, Wise in each plan to guide and save. His brother, fired by lust of sway, Drove forth the prince in woods to stray. In all thy search for Sita he Thy ready friend and help will be. With him to aid thee in thy quest Dismiss all sorrow from thy breast. Time is a mighty power, and none His fixed decree can change or shun. So rich reward thy toil shall bless, And naught can stay thy sure success. Speed hence, O chief, without delay, To strong Sugriva take thy way. This hour thy footsteps onward bend, And make that mighty prince thy friend. With him before the attesting flame In solemn truth alliance frame. Nor wilt thou, if thy heart be wise, Sugriva, Vanar king, despise. Of boundless strength, all shapes he wears, He hearkens to a suppliant's prayers, And, grateful for each kindly deed, Will help and save in hour of need. And you, I ween, the power possess To aid his hopes and give redress. He, let his cause succeed or fail, Will help you, and you must prevail. A banished prince, in fear and woe He roams where Pampa's waters flow, True offspring of the Lord of Light Expelled by Bali's conquering might. Go, Raghu's son, that chieftain seek Who dwells on Rishyamuka's peak. Before the flame thy weapons cast And bind the bonds of friendship fast. For, prince of all the Vanar race, He in his wisdom knows each place Where dwell the fierce gigantic brood Who make the flesh of man their food. To him, O Raghu's son, to him Naught in the world is dark or dim, Where'er the mighty Day-God gleams Resplendent with a thousand beams. He over rocky height and hill, Through gloomy cave, by lake and rill, Will with his Vanars seek the prize, And tell thee where thy lady lies.

He ceased: and Rama's heart was stirred At every keen reproach he heard. There Bali lay, a dim dark sun, His course of light and glory run: Or like the bed of Ocean dried Of his broad floods from side to side, Or helpless, as the dying fire, Hushed his last words of righteous ire. Then Rama, with his spirit moved, The Vanar king in turn reproved: "Why dost thou, Bali, thus revile, And castest not a glance the while On claims of duty, love, and gain, And customs o'er the world that reign? Why dost thou blame me, rash and blind, Fickle as all thy Vanar kind, Slighting each rule of ancient days Which all the good and prudent praise? This land, each hill and woody chase, Belongs to old Ikshvaku's race: With bird and beast and man, the whole Is ours to cherish and control. Now Bharat, prompt at duty's call, Wise, just, and true, is lord of all. Each claim of law, love, gain he knows, And wrath and favour duly shows. A king from truth who never bends, And grace with vigour wisely blends; With valour worthy of his race, He knows the claims of time and place. Now we and other kings of might, By his ensample taught aright, The lands of every region tread That justice may increase and spread. While royal Bharat, wise and just, Rules the broad earth, his glorious trust, Who shall attempt, while he is lord, A deed by Justice held abhorred? We now, as Bharat has decreed, Let justice guide our every deed, And toil each sinner to repress Who scorns the way of righteousness. Thou from that path hast turned aside, And virtue's holy law defied, Left the fair path which kings should tread, And followed pleasure's voice instead. The man who cleaves to duty's law Regards these three with filial awe-- The sire, the elder brother, third Him from whose lips his lore he heard. Thus too, for duty's sake, the wise Regard with fond paternal eyes The well-loved younger brother, one Their lore has ripened, and a son.

"The realm is won, thy name advanced, The glory of thy house enhanced, And now thy foremost care should be To aid the friends who succoured thee. He who is firm and faithful found To friendly ties in honour bound, Will see his name and fame increase And his blest kingdom thrive in peace. Wide sway is his who truly boasts That friends and treasure, self and hosts, All blent in one harmonious whole, Are subject to his firm control. Do thou, whose footsteps never stray From the clear bounds of duty's way, Assist, as honour bids thee, now Thy friends, observant of thy vow. For if all cares we lay not by, And to our friend's assistance fly, We, after, toil in idle haste, And all the late endeavour waste. Up! nor the promised help delay Until the hour have slipped away. Up! and with Raghu's son renew The search for Sita lost to view. The hour is come: he hears the call, But not on thee reproaches fall From him who labours to repress His eager spirit's restlessness. Long joined to thee in friendly ties He made thy fame and fortune rise, In gentle gifts by none excelled. In splendid might unparalleled. Up, to his succour, King! repay The favour of that prosperous day, And to thy bravest captains send Prompt mandates to assist thy friend. The cry for help thou wilt not spurn Although no grace demands return: And wilt thou not thine aid afford To him who realm and life restored? Exert thy power, and thou hast won The love of Dasaratha's son: And wilt thou for his summons wait, And, till he call thee, hesitate? Think not the hero needs thy power To save him in the desperate hour: He with his arrows could subdue The Gods and all the demon crew, And only waits that he may see Redeemed the promise made by thee. For thee he risked his life and fought, For thee that great deliverance wrought. Then let us trace through earth and skies His lady wheresoe'er she lies. Through realms above, beneath, we flee, And plant our footsteps on the sea.

He ceased: and Tara starry-eyed Thus to the angry prince replied: "Not to my lord shouldst thou address A speech so fraught with bitterness: Not thus reproached my lord should be, And least of all, O Prince, by thee. He is no thankless coward--no-- With spirit dead to valour's glow. From paths of truth he never strays, Nor wanders in forbidden ways. Ne'er will Sugriva's heart forget, By Rama saved, the lasting debt. Still in his grateful breast will live The succour none but he could give. Restored to fame by Rama's grace, To empire o'er the Vanar race, From ceaseless dread and toil set free, Restored to Ruma and to me: By grief and care and exile tried, New to the bliss so long denied, Like Visvamitra once, alas, He marks not how the seasons pass. That saint ten thousand years remained, By sweet Ghritachi's(640) love enchained, And deemed those years, that flew away So lightly, but a single day. O, if those years unheeded flew By him who times and seasons knew, Unequalled for his lofty mind, What marvel meaner eyes are blind? Then be not angry, Raghu's son, And let thy brother feel for one Who many a weary year has spent Stranger to love and blandishment. Let not this wrath thy soul inflame, Like some mean wretch unknown to fame: For high and noble hearts like thine Love mercy and to ruth incline, Calm and deliberate, and slow With anger's raging fire to glow. At length, O righteous prince, relent, Nor let my words in vain be spent, This sudden blaze of fury slake, I pray thee for Sugriva's sake. He would renounce at Rama's call Ruma and Angad, me and all Who call him lord: his gold and grain, The favour of his friend to gain. His arm shall slay the fiend more base In soul than all his impious race, And happy Rama reunite To Sita, rival in delight Of the triumphant Moon when he Rejoins his darling Rohini.(641) Ten million million demons guard The gates of Lanka firmly barred. All hope until that host be slain, To smite the robber king is vain.