{"collection":"Hinduism","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/hin/rama/ry209.htm","path":"hin/rama/ry209.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/hin/rama/ry209.htm","text":"R\u00e1ma went foremost of the three,\n Next S\u00edt\u00e1, followed, fair to see,\n And Lakshman with his bow in hand\n Walked hindmost of the little band.\n As onward through the wood they went,\n With great delight their eyes were bent\n On rocky heights beside the way\n And lofty trees with blossoms gay;\n And streamlets running fair and fast\n The royal youths with S\u00edt\u00e1 passed.\n They watched the s\u00e1ras and the drake\n On islets of the stream and lake,\n And gazed delighted on the floods\n Bright with gay birds and lotus buds.\n They saw in startled herds the roes,\n The passion-frenzied buffaloes,\n Wild elephants who fiercely tore\n The tender trees, and many a boar.\n A length of woodland way they passed,\n And when the sun was low at last\n A lovely stream-fed lake they spied,\n Two leagues across from side to side.\n Tall elephants fresh beauty gave\n To grassy bank and lilied wave,\n \n \n By many a swan and s\u00e1ras stirred,\n Mallard, and gay-winged water-bird.\n From those sweet waters, loud and long,\n Though none was seen to wake the song,\n Swelled high the singer's music blent\n With each melodious instrument.\n R\u00e1ma and car-borne Lakshman heard\n The charming strain, with wonder stirred,\n Turned on the margent of the lake\n To Dharmabhait * \u00a01 the sage, and spake:\n \u00a0 'Our longing souls, O hermit, burn\n This music of the lake to learn:\n We pray thee, noblest sage, explain\n The cause of the mysterious strain.'\n He, as the son of Raghu prayed,\n With swift accord his answer made,\n And thus the hermit, virtuous-souled,\n The story of the fair lake told:\n \u00a0 'Through every age 'tis known to fame,\n Panch\u00e1psaras \u00a02 its glorious name,\n By holy M\u00e1ndakarni wrought\n With power his rites austere had bought.\n For he, great votarist, intent\n On strictest rule his stern life spent.\n Ten thousand years the stream his bed,\n Ten thousand years on air he fed.\n Then on the blessed Gods who dwell\n In heavenly homes great terror fell:\n They gathered all, by Agni led,\n And counselled thus disquieted:\n 'The hermit by ascetic pain\n The seat of one of us would gain.'\n Thus with their hearts by fear oppressed\n In full assembly spoke the Blest,\n And bade five loveliest nymphs, as fair\n As lightning in the evening air,\n Armed with their winning wiles, seduce\n From his stern vows the great recluse.\n Though lore of earth and heaven he knew,\n The hermit from his task they drew,\n And made the great ascetic slave\n To conquering love, the Gods to save.\n Bach of the heavenly five became,\n Bound to the sage, his wedded dame;\n And he, for his beloved's sake,\n Formed a fair palace neath the lake.\n Under the flood the ladies live,\n To joy and ease their days they give,\n And lap in bliss the hermit wooed\n From penance rites to youth renewed.\n So when the sportive nymphs within\n Those secret bowers their play begin,\n You hear the singers' dulcet tones\n Blend sweetly with their tinkling zones.'\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 'How wondrous are these words of thine!'\n Cried the famed chiefs of Raghu's line,\n \n \n As thus they heard the sage unfold\n The marvels of the tale he told.\n \u00a0\u00a0 As R\u00e1ma spake, his eyes were bent\n Upon a hermit settlement\n With light of heavenly lore endued,\n With sacred grass and vesture strewed.\n His wife and brother by his side,\n Within the holy bounds he hied,\n And there, with honour entertained\n By all the saints, a while remained.\n In time, by due succession led,\n Each votary's cot he visited,\n And then the lord of martial lore,\n Returned where he had lodged before.\n Here for the months, content, he stayed,\n There for a year his visit paid:\n Here for four months his home would fix,\n There, as it chanced, for five or six.\n Here for eight months and there for three\n The son of Raghu's stay would be:\n Here weeks, there fortnights, more or less,\n He spent in tranquil happiness.\n As there the hero dwelt at ease\n Among those holy devotees,\n In days untroubled o'er his head\n Ten circling years of pleasure fled.\n So Raghu's son in duty trained\n A while in every cot remained,\n Then with his dame retraced the road\n To good Sut\u00edkshna's calm abode.\n Hailed by the saints with honours due\n Near to the hermit's home he drew,\n And there the tamer of his foes\n Dwelt for a time in sweet repose.\n One day within that holy wood\n By saint Sut\u00edkstma R\u00e1ma stood,\n And thus the prince with reverence meek\n To that high sage began to speak:\n \u00a0\u00a0 'In the wide woodlands that extend\n Around us, lord most reverend,\n As frequent voice of rumour tells,\n Agastya, saintliest hermit, dwells.\n So vast the wood, I cannot trace\n The path to reach his dwelling place,\n Nor, searching unassisted, find\n That hermit of the thoughtful mind.\n I with my wife and brother fain\n Would go, his favour to obtain,\n Would seek him in his lone retreat\n And the great saint with reverence greet.\n This one desire, O Master, long\n Cherished within my heart, is strong,\n That I may pay of free accord\n My duty to that hermit lord.'\n \u00a0\u00a0 As thus the prince whose heart was bent\n On virtue told his firm intent,\n The good Sut\u00edkshna's joy rose high,\n And thus in turn he made reply:\n The very thing, O Prince, which thou\n Hast sought, I wished to urge but now,\n Bid thee with wife and brother see\n \n \n Agastya, glorious devotee.\n I count this thing an omen fair\n That thou shouldst thus thy wish declare,\n And I, my Prince, will gladly teach\n The way Agastya's home to reach.\n Southward, dear son, direct thy feet\n Eight leagues beyond this still retreat:\n Agastya's hermit brother there\n Dwells in a home most bright and fair.\n 'Tis on a knoll of woody ground,\n With many a branching Pippal \u00a01 crowned:\n There sweet birds' voices ne'er are mute,\n And trees are gay with flower and fruit.\n There many a lake gleams bright and cool,\n And lilies deck each pleasant pool,\n While swan, and crane, and mallard's wings\n Are lovely in the water-springs.\n There for one night, O R\u00e1ma, stay,\n And with the dawn pursue thy way.\n Still farther, bending southward, by\n The thicket's edge the course must lie,\n And thou wilt see, two leagues from thence\n Agastya's lovely residence,\n Set in the woodland's fairest spot,\n All varied foliage decks the cot:\n There Si'ta', Lakshman thou, at ease\n May spend sweet hours neath shady trees,\n For all of noblest growth are found\n Luxuriant on that *bosky ground,\n If it be still thy firm intent\n To see that saint pree*minent,\n O mighty counsellor, this day\n Depart upon thine onward way.'\n \u00a0\u00a0 The hermit spake, and R\u00e1ma bent\n His head, with Lakshman, reverent,\n And then with him and Janak's child\n Set out to trace the forest wild.\n He saw dark woods that fringed the road,\n And distant hills like clouds that showed,\n And, as the way he followed, met\n With many a lake and rivulet.\n So passing on with ease where led\n The path Sutikshna bade him tread,\n The hero with exulting breast\n His brother in these words addressed:\n \u00a0\u00a0 'Here, surely, is the home, in sight,\n Of that illustrious anchorite:\n Here great Agastya's brother leads\n A life intent on holy deeds.\n Warned of each guiding mark and sign,\n I see them all herein combine:\n I see the branches bending low\n Beneath the flowers and fruit they show.\n A soft air from the forest springs,\n Fresh from the odorous grass, and brings\n A spicy fragrance as it flees\n O'er the ripe fruit of Pippal trees.\n See, here and there around us high\n Piled up in heaps cleft billets lie,\n \n \n And holy grass is gathered, bright\n As strips of shining lazulite.\n Full in the centre of the shade\n The hermits' holy fire is laid:\n I see its smoke the pure heaven streak\n Dense as a big cloud's dusky peak.\n The twice-born men their steps retrace\n From each sequestered bathing place,\n And each his sacred gift has brought\n Of blossoms which his hands have sought.\n Of all these signs, dear brother, each\n Agrees with good Sutikshna's speech,\n And doubtless in this holy bound\n Agastya's brother will be found.\n Agastya once, the worlds who viewed\n With love, a Deathlike fiend subdued,\n And armed with mighty power, obtained\n By holy works, this grove ordained\n To be a refuge and defence\n From all oppressors' violence.\n In days of yore within this place\n Two brothers fierce of demon race,\n Va'ta'pi* dire and Ilval, dwelt,\n And slaughter mid the Bra'hmans dealt.\n A Bra'hman's form, the fiend to cloak,\n Fierce Ilval wore, and Sanskrit spoke,\n And twice-born sages would invite\n To solemnize some funeral rite.\n His brother's flesh, concealed within\n A ram's false shape and borrowed skin,--\n As men are wont at funeral feasts,--\n He dressed and fed those gathered priests.\n The holy men, unweeting ill,\n Took of the food and ate their fill.\n Then Ilval with a mighty shout\n Exclaimed 'Vatapi, issue out.'\n Soon as his brother's voice he heard,\n The fiend with ram-like bleating stirred:\n Bending in pieces every frame,\n Forth from the dying priests he came.\n So they who changed their forms at will\n Thousands of Brahmans dared to kill,-\n Fierce fiends who loved each cruel deed,\n And joyed on bleeding flesh to feed.\n Agastya, mighty hermit, pressed\n To funeral banquet like the rest,\n Obedient to the Gods' appeal\n Ate up the monster at a meal.\n 'Tis done,'tis done,' fierce Ilval cried,\n And water for his hands supplied:\n Then lifting up his voice he spake:\n 'Forth, brother, from thy prison break.'\n Then him who called the fiend, who long\n Had wrought the suffering Bra'hmans wrong,\n Thus thoughtful-souled Agastya, best\n Of hermits, with a smile addresed:\n 'How, Ra'kshas, is the fiend empowered\n To issue forth whom I devoured?\n Thy brother in a ram's disguise-\n Is gone where Yama's kingdom lies.'\n \n \n When from the words Agastya said\n He knew his brother fiend was dead,\n His soul on fire with vengeful rage,\n Rushed the night-rover at the sage.\n One lightning glance of fury, hot\n As fire, the glorious hermit shot,\n As the fiend neared him in his stride,\n And straight, consumed to dust, he died.\n In pity for the Brahmans' plight\n Agastya wrought this deed of might:\n This grove which lakes and fair trees grace\n In his great brother's dwelling place.\n \u00a0\u00a0 As R\u00e1ma thus the tale rehearsed,\n And with Sumitr\u00e1's son conversed,\n The setting sun his last rays shed,\n And evening o'er the land was spread.\n A while the princely brothers stayed\n And even rites in order paid,\n Then to the holy grove they drew\n And hailed the saint with honour due.\n With courtesy was Rama met\n By that illustrious anchoret,\n And for one night he rested there\n Regaled with fruit and hermit fare.\n But when the night had reached its close,\n And the sun's glorious circle rose,\n The son of Raghu left his bed\n And to the hermit's brother said:\n 'Well rested in thy hermit cell,\n I stand, O saint, to bid farewell;\n For with thy leave I journey hence\n Thy broher saint to reverence.'\n 'Go, R\u00e1ma go,' the sage replied:\n Then from the cot the chieftain hied.\n And while the pleasant grove he viewed,\n The path the hermit showed, pursued.\n Of every leaf, of changing hue.\n Plants, trees by hundreds round him grew,\n With joyous eyes he looked on all,\n Then Jak, \u00a01 the wild rice, and Sal;\u00a02\n He saw the red Hibiscus glow,\n He saw the flower-tipped creeper throw\n The glory of her clusters o'er\n Tall trees that loads of blossom bore.\n Some, elephants had prostrate laid,\n In some the monkeys leapt and played,\n And through the whole wide forest rang\n The charm of gay birds as they sang.\n Then R\u00e1ma of the lotus eye\n To Lakshman turned who followed nigh,\n And thus the hero youth impressed\n With Fortune's favouring signs, addressed:\n \u00a0\u00a0 'How soft the leaves of every tree,\n How tame each bird and beast we see!\n Soon the fair home shall we behold\n Of that great hermit tranquil-souled.\n The deed the good Agastya wrought\n \n \n High fame throughout the world has bought:\n I see, I see his calm retreat\n That balms the pain of weary feet.\n Where white clouds rise from flames beneath,\n Where bark-coats lie with many a wreath,\n Where silvan things, made gentle, throng,\n And every bird is loud in song.\n With ruth for suffering creatures filled,\n A deathlike fiend with might he killed,\n And gave this southern realm to be\n A refuge, from oppression free.\n There stands his home, whose dreaded might\n Has put the giant crew to flight,\n Who view with envious eyes afar\n The peaceful shades they cannot mar.\n Since that most holy saint has made\n His dwelling in this lovely shade,\n Checked by his might the giant brood\n Have dwelt in peace with souls subdued.\n And all this southern realm, within\n Whose bounds no fiend may entrance win,\n Now bears a name which naught may dim,\n Made glorious through the worlds by him.\n When Vindhya, best of hills, would stay\n The journey of the Lord of Day,\n Obedient to the saint's behest\n He bowed for aye his humbled crest.\n That hoary hermit, world-renowned\n For holy deeds, within this ground\n Has set his pure and blessed home,\n Where gentle silvan creatures roam.\n Agastya, whom the worlds revere,\n Pure saint to whom the good are dear,\n To us his guests all grace will show,\n Enriched with blessings ere we go.\n I to this aim each thought will turn,\n The favour of the saint to earn,\n That here in comfort may be spent\n The last years of our banishment.\n Here sanctities and high saints stand,\n Gods, minstrels of the heavenly band;\n Upon Agastya's will they wait,\n And serve him, pure and temperate.\n The liar's tongue, the tyrant's mind\n Within these bounds no home may find:\n No cheat, no sinner here can be:\n So holy and so good is he.\n Here birds and lords of serpent race,\n Spirits and Gods who haunt the place,\n Content with scanty fare remain,\n As merit's meed they strive to gain.\n Made perfect here, the paints supreme,\n On cars that mock the Day-God's gleam,--\n Their mortal bodies cast aside,--\n Sought heaven transformed and glorified,\n Here Gods to living things, who win\n Their favour, pure from cruel sin,\n Give royal rule and many a good,\n \n \n Immortal life and spirithood. I\n Now, Lakshman, we are near the place:\n Do thou precede a little space,\n And tell the mighty saint that I\n With S\u00edt\u00e1 at my side am nigh,\"\n \n \n \n \n240:1 One of the hermits who had followed R\u00e1ma.\n240:2 The lake of the five nymphs.\n241:1 The holy fig-tree.\n242:1 The bread-fruit tree, Artocarpus integri folia.\n242:2 A fine timber tree, Shores robusta.","title":"BOOK III: Canto XI.: Agastya.","type":"page"}