{"collection":"Hinduism","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/hin/rama/ry090.htm","path":"hin/rama/ry090.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/hin/rama/ry090.htm","text":"The monarch, as Kaikeyi pressed\n With cruel words her dire request,\n Stood for a time absorbed in thought\n While anguish in his bosom wrought.\n Does some wild dream my heart assail!\n Or do my troubled senses fail!\n Does some dire portent scare my view?\n Or frenzy's stroke my soul subdue?'\n Thus as he thought, his troubled mind\n In doubt and dread no rest could find,\n Distressed and trembling like a deer\n Who sees the dreaded tigress near.\n On the bare ground his limbs he thres,\n And many a long sigh he drew,\n Like a wild snake, with fury blind,\n By charms within a ring confined.\n Once as the monarch's fury woke,\n 'Shame on thee!' from his bosom broke,\n And then in sense-bewildering pain\n He fainted on the ground again.\n At length, when slowly strength returned,\n He answered as his eyeballs burned\n With the wild fury of his ire\n Consuming her, as 'twere, with fire:\n 'Fell traitress, thou whose thought design\n The utter ruin of my line,\n What wrong have I or R\u00e1ma done?\n Speak murderess, speak thou wicked one,\n Seeks he not evermore to please\n Thee with all sonlike courtesies?\n By what persuasion art thou led\n To bring this ruin on his head?\n Ah me, that fondly unaware\n I brought thee home my life to snare,\n Called daughter of a king, in truth\n A serpent with a venomed tooth!\n What fault can I pretend to find\n In R\u00e1ma praised by all mankind,\n That I my darling should forsake?\n No, take my life, my glory take:\n Let either queen be from me torn,\n But not my well-loved eldest-born,\n Him but to see is highest bliss,\n And death itself his face to miss.\n The world may sunless stand, the grain\n May thrive without the genial rain,\n But if my R\u00e1ma be no nigh\n My spirit from its frame will fly.\n Enough, thine impious plan forgo,\n O thou who plottest sin and woe.\n My head before my feet, I kneel,\n And pray thee some compassion feel,\n O wicked dame, what can have led\n Thy heart to dare a plot so dread?\n Perchance thy purpose is to sound\n The grace thy son with me has found;\n Perchance the words that, all these days,\n Thou hast said in R\u00e1ma's praise,\n Were only feigned; designed to cheer\n With flatteries a father's ear.\n Soon as thy grief, my Queen, I knew,\n My bosom felt the anguish too.\n In empty halls art thou posessed,\n And subject to anothers' hest?\n Now on Ikshv\u00e1ku's ancient race\n Falls foul disorder and disgrace,\n If thou, O Queen, whose heart so long\n Has loved the good should choose the wrong\n Not once, O large-eyed dame, hast thou\n Been guilty of offence till now,\n Nor said a word to make me grieve,\n Nor will I now thy sin believe.\n With thee my R\u00e1ma used to hold\n Like place with Bharat lofty-souled.\n As thou so ofthe, when the pair\n Were children yet, wouldst fain declare.\n And can thy righteous soul endure\n That R\u00e1ma glorious, pious, pure,\n Should to the distant wilds be sent\n For fourteen years of banishment?\n Yea, R\u00e1ma Bharat's self exceeds\n In love to thee and sonlike deeds,\n And, for deserving love of thee,\n As Bharat, even so is he.\n Who better than that chieftain may\n Obedience, love, and honour pay,\n They dignity with care protect,\n Thy slightest word and wish respect?\n Of all his countless followers none\n Can breathe a word against my son;\n Of many thousands not a dame\n Can hint reproach or whisper blame.\n All creatures feel the sweet control\n Of R\u00e1ma's pure and gentle soul.\n The pride of Manu's race he binds\n To him the people's grateful minds.\n He wins the subjects with his truth,\n \n \n The poor with gifts and gentle ruth,\n His teachers with his docile will,\n The foemen with his archer skill.\n Truth, purity, religious zeal,\n The hand to give, the heart to feel.\n The love that ne'er betrays a friend,\n The rectitude that naught can bend,\n Knowledge, and meek obedience grace\n My R\u00e1ma pride of Raghu's race.\n Canst thou thine impious plot design\n 'Gainst him in whom these virtues shine,\n Whose glory with the sages vies,\n Peer of the Gods who rule the skies!\n From him no harsh or bitter word\n To pain one creature have I heard,\n And how can I my sin address,\n For thee, with words of bitterness?\n Have mercy, Queen: some pity show\n To see my tears of anguish now,\n And listen to my mournful cry,\n A poor old man who soon must die.\n Whate'er this sea-girt land can boast\n Of rich and rare from coast to coast,\n To thee, my Queen, I give it all:\n But O, thy deadly words recall:\n O see, my suppliant hands entreat,\n Again my lips are on thy feet:\n Save R\u00e1ma, save my darling child,\n Nor kill me with this sin defiled.'\n He grovelled on the ground, and lay\n To burning grief a senseless prey,\n And ever and anon, assailed\n By floods of woe he wept and wailed,\n Striving with eager speed to gain\n The margent of his sea of pain.\n \n \n With fiercer words she fiercer yet\n The hapless father's pleading met:\n 'O Monarch, if thy soul repent\n The promise and thy free consent,\n How wilt thou in the world maintain\n Thy fame for truth unsmirched with stain?\n When gathered kings with thee converse,\n And bid thee all the tale rehearse.\n What wilt thou say, O truthful King,\n In answer to their questioning?\n 'She to whose love my life I owe,\n Who saved me smitten by the foe,\n Kaikey\u00ed, for her tender care,\n Was cheated of the oath I sware.\u00a01\n Thus wilt thou answer, and forsworn\n Wilt draw on thee the princes' scorn.\n Learn from that tale, the 'Hawk and Dove,'\n How strong for truth was Saivya's love.\n Pledged by his word the monarch gave\n His flesh the suppliant bird to save.\n So King Alarka gave his eyes,\n And gained a mansion in the skies.\n \n \n \n The Sea himself his promise keeps,\n And ne'er beyond his limit sweeps.\n My deeds of old again recall,\n Nor let thy bond dishonoured fall.\n The rights of truth thou wouldst forget\n Thy R\u00e1ma on the throne to set,\n And let thy days in pleasure glide,\n Fond King, Kaus'aly\u00e1 by thy side.\n Now call it by what name thou wilt,\n Justice, injustice, virtue, guilt,\n Thy word and oath remain the same,\n And thou must yield what thus I claim.\n If R\u00e1ma be anointed, I\n This very day will surely die,\n Before thy face will poison drink,\n And lifeless at thy feet will sink.\n Yea, better far to die than stay\n Alive to see one single day\n The crowds before Kaus'aly\u00e1 stand\n And hail her queen with reverent hand.\n Now by my son, myself, I swear,\n No gift, no promise whatsoe'er\n My steadfast soul shall now content,\n But only R\u00e1ma's banishment.'\n \n \n So far she spake by rage impelled,\n And then the queen deep silence held.\n He heard her speech full fraught with ill,\n But spoke no word bewildered still,\n Gazed on his love once held so dear\n Who spoke unlovely rede to hear;\n Then as he slowly pondered o'er\n The queen's resolve and oath she swore.\n Once sighing forth, Ah R\u00e1ma! he\n Fell prone as falls a smitten tree.\n His senses lost like one insane,\n Faint as a sick man weak with pain,\n Or like a wounded snake dismayed,\n So lay the king whom earth obeyed.\n Long burning sighs he slowly heaved,\n As, conquered by his woe, he grieved,\n And thus with tears and sobs between\n His sad faint words addressed the queen:\n \n \n 'By whom, Kaikey\u00ed, wast thou taught\n This flattering hope with ruin fraught?\n Have goblins seized thy soul, O dame,\n Who thus canst speak and feel no shame?\n Thy mind with sin is sicklied o'er,\n From thy first youth ne'er seen before.\n A good and loving wife wast thou,\n But all, alas! is altered now.\n What terror can have seized thy breast\n To make thee frame this dire request,\n That Bharat o'er the land may reign,\n And R\u00e1ma in the woods remain?\n Turn from thine evil ways, O turn,\n And thy perfidious counsel spurn,\n If thou would fain a favour do\n To people, lord, and Bharat too.\n O wicked traitress, fierce and vile,\n Who lovest deeds of sin and guile,\n \n \n What crime or grievance dost thou see,\n What fault in R\u00e1ma or in me?\n Thy son will ne'er the throne accept\n If R\u00e1ma from his rights be kept,\n For Bharat's heart more firmly yet\n Than R\u00e1ma's is on justice set.\n How shall I say, Go forth, and brook\n Upon my R\u00e1ma's face to look,\n See his pale cheek and ashy lips\n Dimmed like the moon in sad eclipse?\n How see the plan so well prepared\n When prudent friends my counsels shared,\n All ruined, like a host laid low\n Beneath some foeman's murderous blow?\n What will these gathered princes say,\n From regions near and far away?\n 'O'erlong endures the monarch's reign,\n For now he is a child again.'\n When many a good and holy sage\n In Scripture versed, revered for age,\n Shall ask for R\u00e1ma, what shall I\n Unhappy, what shall I reply?\n 'By Queen Kaikey\u00ed long distressed\n I drove him forth and dispossessed.'\n Although herein the truth I speak,\n They all will hold me false and weak.\n What will Kaus'aly\u00e1 say when she\n Demands her son exiled by me?\n Alas! what answer shall I frame,\n Or how console the injured dame?\n She like a slave on me attends,\n And with a sister's care she blends\n A mother's love, a wife's, a friend's.\n In spite of all her tender care,\n Her noble son, her face most fair,\n Another queen I could prefer\n And for thy sake neglected her,\n But now, O Queen, my heart is grieved\n For love and care by thee received,\n E'en as the sickening wretch repents\n His dainty meal and condiments.\n And how will Queen Sumitr\u00e1 trust\n The husband whom she finds unjust,\n Seeing my R\u00e1ma driven hence\n Dishonoured, and for no offence?\n Ah! the, Videhan bride will hear\n A double woe, a double fear,\n Two whelming sorrows at one breath,\n Her lord's disgrace, his father's death.\n Mine aged bosom she will wring\n And kill me with her sorrowing,\n Sad as a fair nymph left to weep\n Deserted on Him\u00e1laya's steep.\n For short will be my days, I ween,\n When I with mournful eyes have seen\n My R\u00e1ma wandering forth alone\n And heard dear S\u00edt\u00e1 sob and moan.\n Ah me! my fond belief I rue.\n Vile traitress, loved as good and true,\n As one who in his thirst has quaffed,\n Deceived by looks, a deadly draught.\n Ah! thou hast slain me, murderess, while\n Soothing my soul with words of guile,\n As the wild hunter kills the deer\n Lured from the brake his song to hear.\n Soon every honest tongue will fling\n Reproach on the dishonest king;\n The people's scorn in every street\n The seller of his child will meet,\n And such dishonour will be mine\n As whelms a Br\u00e1hman drunk with wine.\n Ah me, for my unhappy fate,\n Compelled thy words to tolerate!\n Such woe is sent to scourge a crime\n Committed in some distant time.\n For many a day with sinful care\n I cherished thee, thou sin and snare,\n Kept thee, unwitting, like a cord\n Destined to bind its hapless lord.\n Mine hours of ease I spent with thee,\n Nor deemed my love my death would be,\n While like a heedless child I played,\n On a black snake my hand I laid.\n A cry from every mouth will burst\n And all the world will hold me curst,\n Because I saw my high-souled son\n Unkinged, unfathered, and undone;\n 'The king by power of love beguiled\n Is weaker than a foolish child,\n His own beloved son to make\n An exile for a woman's sake.\n By chaste and holy vows restrained,\n By reverend teachers duly trained.\n When he his virtue's fruit should taste\n He falls by sin and woe disgraced.'\n Two words will all his answer be\n When I pronounce the stern decree,\n 'Hence, R\u00e1ma, to the woods away,'\n All he will say is, I obey.\n O, if he would my will withstand\n When banished from his home and land.\n This were a comfort in my woe;\n But he will ne'er do this, I know.\n My R\u00e1ma to the forest fled,\n And curses thick upon my head,\n Grim Death will bear me hence away,\n His world-abominated prey.\n When I am gone and R\u00e1ma too.\n How wilt thou those I love pursue?\n What vengeful sin will be designed\n Against the queens I leave behind?\n When thou hast slain her son and me\n Kaus'aly\u00e1 soon will follow: she\n Will sink beneath her sorrows' weight,\n And die like me disconsolate,\n Exist, Kaikey\u00ed, in thy pride,\n And let thy heart be gratified,\n When thou my queens and me hast hurled,\n And children, to the under world.\n Soon wilt thou rule as empress o'er\n My noble house unvext before.\n But then to wild confusion left,\n \n \n Of R\u00e1ma and of me bereft.\n If Bharat to thy plan consent\n And long for R\u00e1ma's banishment,\n Ne'er let his hands presume to pay\n The funeral honours to my clay\n Vile foe, thou cause of all mine ill,\n Obtain at last thy cursed will.\n A widow soon shalt thou enjoy\n The sweets of empire with thy boy.\n O Princess, sure some evil fate\n First brought thee here to devastate,\n In whom the night of ruin lies\n Veiled in a consort's fair disguise.\n The scorn of all and deepest shame\n Will long pursue my hated name,\n And dire disgrace on me will press,\n Misled by thee to wickedness.\n How shall my R\u00e1ma, whom, before,\n His elephant or chariot bore,\n Now with his feet, a wanderer, tread\n The forest wilds around him spread?\n How shall my son, to please whose taste,\n The deftest cooks, with earrings graced,\n With rivalry and jealous care\n The dainty meal and cates prepare--\n How shall he now his life sustain\n With acid fruit and woodland grain?\n He spends his time unvext by cares,\n And robes of precious texture wears:\n How shall he, with one garment round\n His limbs recline upon the ground?\n Whose was this plan, this cruel thought\n Unheard till now, with ruin fraught,\n To make thy son Ayodhy\u00e1's king,\n And send my R\u00e1ma wandering?\n Shame, shame on women! Vile, untrue,\n Their selfish ends they still pursue.\n Not all of womankind I mean.\n But more than all this wicked queen.\n \u00a0\u00a0 O worthless, cruel, selfish dame,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I brought thee home, my plague and woe.\n \u00a0\u00a0 What fault in me hast thou to blame,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Or in my son who loves thee so?\n \u00a0\u00a0 Fond wives may from their husbands flee,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And fathers may their sons desert,\n \u00a0\u00a0 But all the world would rave to see\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 My R\u00e1ma touched with deadly hurt.\n \u00a0\u00a0 I joy his very step to hear,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 As though his godlike form I viewed;\n \u00a0\u00a0 And when I see my R\u00e1ma near\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I feel my youth again renewed.\n \u00a0\u00a0 There might be life without the sun,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Yea, e'en if Indra sent no rain,\n \u00a0\u00a0 But, were my R\u00e1ma banished, none\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Would, so I think, alive remain.\n \u00a0\u00a0 A foe that longs my life to take,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I brought thee here my death to be,\n \u00a0\u00a0 Caressed thee long, a venomed snake,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And through my folly die, Ah me!\n \u00a0\u00a0 R\u00e1ma and me and Lakshman slay,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And then with Bharat rule the state;\n \u00a0\u00a0 So bring the kingdom to decay,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And fawn on those thy lord who hate,\n \u00a0\u00a0 Plotter of woe, for evil bred,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 For such a speech why do not all\n \u00a0\u00a0 Thy teeth from out thy wicked head\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Split in a thousand pieces fall?\n \u00a0\u00a0 My R\u00e1ma's words are ever kind,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He knows not how to speak in ire:\n \u00a0\u00a0 Then how canst thou presume to find\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 A fault in him whom all admire?\n \u00a0\u00a0 Yield to despair, go mad, or die,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Or sink within the rifted earth;\n \u00a0\u00a0 Thy fell request will I deny,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Thou shamer of thy royal birth.\n \u00a0\u00a0 Thy longer life I scarce can bear,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Thou ruin of my home and race,\n \u00a0\u00a0 Who wouldst my heart and heartstrings tear,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Keen as a razor, false and base.\n \u00a0\u00a0 My life is gone, why speak of joy?\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 For what, without my son, were sweet?\n \u00a0\u00a0 Spare, lady, him thou canst destroy;\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I pray thee as I touch thy feet.'\n \u00a0\u00a0 He fell and wept with wild complaint.\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Heart-struck by her presumptuous speech,\n \u00a0\u00a0 But could not touch, so weak and faint,\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The cruel feet he strove to reach.\n \n \n \n \n \n104:1 This story is told in the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat. A free version of it may be found in Scenes from the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, etc.","title":"Book II: Canto XII.: Dasaratha's Lament.","type":"page"}