"False are they all, proved false to-day, The prophets of my fortune, they Who in the tranquil time of old A blessed life for me foretold, Predicting I should never know A childless dame's, a widow's woe, False are they all, their words are vain, For thou, my lord and life, art slain. False was the priest and vain his lore Who blessed me in those days of yore By Rama's side in bliss to reign: For thou, my lord and life, art slain. They hailed me happy from my birth, Proud empress of the lord of earth. They blessed me--but the thought is pain-- For thou, my lord and life, art slain. Ah, fruitless hope! each glorious sign That stamps the future queen is mine, With no ill-omened mark to show A widow's crushing hour of woe. They say my hair is black and fine, They praise my brows' continuous line; My even teeth divided well, My bosom for its graceful swell. They praise my feet and fingers oft; They say my skin is smooth and soft, And call me happy to possess The twelve fair marks that bring success.(955) But ah, what profit shall I gain? Thou, O my lord and life, art slain. The flattering seer in former days My gentle girlish smile would praise, And swear that holy water shed By Brahman hands upon my head Should make me queen, a monarch's bride: How is the promise verified? Matchless in might the brothers slew In Janasthan the giant crew. And forced the indomitable sea To let them pass to rescue me. Theirs was the fiery weapon hurled By him who rules the watery world;(956) Theirs the dire shaft by Indra sped; Theirs was the mystic Brahma's Head.(957) In vain they fought, the bold and brave: A coward's hand their death-wounds gave. By secret shafts and magic spell The brothers, peers of Indra, fell. That foe, if seen by Rama's eye One moment, had not lived to fly. Though swift as thought, his utmost speed Had failed him in the hour of need. No might, no tear, no prayer may stay Fate's dark inevitable day.Ramayana 6.219a · Ramayana · 6
Ramayana 6.219a
Ramayana · translated by Ralph T.H. Griffith
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The Divine in other traditions
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Saturnia lends the lash; the coursers fly; Smooth glides the chariot through the liquid sky. Heaven’s gates spontaneous open to the powers, Heaven’s golden gates, kept by the winged Hours. Commission’d in alternate watch they stand, The sun’s bright portals and the skies command; Close, or unfold, the eternal gates of day Bar heaven with clouds, or roll those clouds away. The sounding hinges ring, the clouds divide. Prone down the steep of heaven their course they guide. But Jove, incensed, from Ida’s top survey’d, And thus enjoin’d the many-colour’d maid.Iliad 8.29 · Iliad · 8
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