{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_24869/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_24869","id":"gutenberg_24869","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24869","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Epic poetry, Sanskrit -- Translations into English","Folklore -- India","India","Rama (Hindu deity) -- Poetry"],"text":"*The R\u00c1M\u00c1YAN of V\u00c1LM\u00cdKI*\n\n                     *Translated into English Verse*\n\n                                   *by*\n\n                        Ralph T. H. Griffith, M.A.\n\n                     Principal of the Benares College\n\n                          London: Tr\u00fcbner & Co.\n\n                      Benares: E. J. Lazarus and Co.\n\n                                1870-1874\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nInvocation.\nBook I.\n   Canto I. N\u00e1rad.\n   Canto II. Brahm\u00e1\u2019s Visit\n   Canto III. The Argument.\n   Canto IV. The Rhapsodists.\n   Canto V. Ayodhy\u00e1.\n   Canto VI. The King.\n   Canto VII. The Ministers.\n   Canto VIII. Sumantra\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto IX. Rishyasring.\n   Canto X. Rishyasring Invited.\n   Canto XI. The Sacrifice Decreed.\n   Canto XII. The Sacrifice Begun.\n   Canto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished.\n   Canto XIV. R\u00e1van Doomed.\n   Canto XV. The Nectar.\n   Canto XVI. The V\u00e1nars.\n   Canto XVII. Rishyasring\u2019s Return.\n   Canto XVIII. Rishyasring\u2019s Departure.\n   Canto XIX. The Birth Of The Princes.\n   Canto XX. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Visit.\n   Canto XXI. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXII. Dasaratha\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXIII. Vasishtha\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXIV. The Spells.\n   Canto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love.\n   Canto XXVI. The Forest Of T\u00e1dak\u00e1.\n   Canto XXVII. The Birth Of T\u00e1dak\u00e1.\n   Canto XXVIII. The Death Of T\u00e1dak\u00e1.\n   Canto XXIX. The Celestial Arms.\n   Canto XXX. The Mysterious Powers.\n   Canto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.\n   Canto XXXII. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Sacrifice.\n   Canto XXXIII. The Sone.\n   Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.\n   Canto XXXV. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Lineage.\n   Canto XXXVI. The Birth Of Gang\u00e1.\n   Canto XXXIX. The Sons Of Sagar.\n   Canto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.\n   Canto XLI. Kapil.\n   Canto XLII. Sagar\u2019s Sacrifice.\n   Canto XLIII. Bhag\u00edrath.\n   Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Gang\u00e1.\n   Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.\n   Canto XLVI. Diti\u2019s Hope.\n   Canto XLVII. Sumati.\n   Canto XLVIII. Indra And Ahaly\u00e1\n   Canto XLIX. Ahaly\u00e1 Freed.\n   Canto L. Janak.\n   Canto LI. Visv\u00e1mitra.\n   Canto LII. Vasishtha\u2019s Feast.\n   Canto LIII. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Request.\n   Canto LIV. The Battle.\n   Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.\n   Canto LVI. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Vow.\n   Canto LVII. Trisanku.\n   Canto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed.\n   Canto LIX. The Sons Of Vasishtha.\n   Canto LX. Trisanku\u2019s Ascension.\n   Canto LXI. Sunahsepha.\n   Canto LXII. Ambar\u00edsha\u2019s Sacrifice.\n   Canto LXIII. Menak\u00e1.\n   Canto LXIV. Rambh\u00e1.\n   Canto LXV. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Triumph\n   Canto LXVI. Janak\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.\n   Canto LXVIII. The Envoys\u2019 Speech.\n   Canto LXIX. Dasaratha\u2019s Visit.\n   Canto LXX. The Maidens Sought.\n   Canto LXXI. Janak\u2019s Pedigree.\n   Canto LXXII. The Gift Of Kine.\n   Canto LXXIII. The Nuptials.\n   Canto LXXIV. R\u00e1ma With The Axe.\n   Canto LXXV. The Parle.\n   Canto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.\n   Canto LXXVII. Bharat\u2019s Departure.\nBOOK II.\n   Canto I. The Heir Apparent.\n   Canto II. The People\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto III. Dasaratha\u2019s Precepts.\n   Canto IV. R\u00e1ma Summoned.\n   Canto V. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Fast.\n   Canto VI. The City Decorated.\n   Canto VII. Manthar\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto VIII. Manthar\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto IX. The Plot.\n   Canto X. Dasaratha\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XI. The Queen\u2019s Demand.\n   Canto XII. Dasaratha\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XIII. Dasaratha\u2019s Distress.\n   Canto XIV. R\u00e1ma Summoned.\n   Canto XV. The Preparations.\n   Canto XVI. R\u00e1ma Summoned.\n   Canto XVII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Approach.\n   Canto XVIII. The Sentence.\n   Canto XIX. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Promise.\n   Canto XX. Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXI. Kausaly\u00e1 Calmed.\n   Canto XXII. Lakshman Calmed.\n   Canto XXIII. Lakshman\u2019s Anger.\n   Canto XXIV. Kausaly\u00e1 Calmed.\n   Canto XXV. Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s Blessing.\n   Canto XXVI. Alone With S\u00edt\u00e1.\n   Canto XXVII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXVIII. The Dangers Of The Wood.\n   Canto XXIX. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Appeal.\n   Canto XXX. The Triumph Of Love.\n   Canto XXXI. Lakshman\u2019s Prayer.\n   Canto XXXII. The Gift Of The Treasures.\n   Canto XXXIII. The People\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXXIV. R\u00e1ma In The Palace.\n   Canto XXXV. Kaikey\u00ed Reproached.\n   Canto XXXVI. Siddh\u00e1rth\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXVII. The Coats Of Bark.\n   Canto XXXVIII. Care For Kausaly\u00e1\n   Canto XXXIX. Counsel To S\u00edt\u00e1.\n   Canto XL. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Departure.\n   Canto XLI. The Citizens\u2019 Lament.\n   Canto XLII. Dasaratha\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XLIII. Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XLIV. Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XLV. The Tamas\u00e1.\n   Canto XLVI. The Halt.\n   Canto XLVII. The Citizens\u2019 Return.\n   Canto XLVIII. The Women\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XLIX. The Crossing Of The Rivers.\n   Canto L. The Halt Under The Ingud\u00ed.\n   Canto LI. Lakshman\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LII. The Crossing Of Gang\u00e1.\n   Canto LIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LIV. Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s Hermitage.\n   Canto LV. The Passage Of Yamun\u00e1.\n   Canto LVI. Chitrak\u00fata\n   Canto LVII. Sumantra\u2019s Return.\n   Canto LVIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Message.\n   Canto LIX. Dasaratha\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LX. Kausaly\u00e1 Consoled.\n   Canto LXI. Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LXII. Dasaratha Consoled.\n   Canto LXIII. The Hermit\u2019s Son.\n   Canto LXIV. Dasaratha\u2019s Death.\n   Canto LXV. The Women\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LXVI. The Embalming.\n   Canto LXVII. The Praise Of Kings.\n   Canto LXVIII. The Envoys.\n   Canto LXIX. Bharat\u2019s Dream.\n   Canto LXX. Bharat\u2019s Departure.\n   Canto LXXI. Bharat\u2019s Return.\n   Canto LXXII. Bharat\u2019s Inquiry.\n   Canto LXXIII. Kaikey\u00ed Reproached.\n   Canto LXXIV. Bharat\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LXXV. The Abjuration.\n   Canto LXXVI. The Funeral.\n   Canto LXXVII. The Gathering Of The Ashes.\n   Canto LXXVIII. Manthar\u00e1 Punished.\n   Canto LXXIX. Bharat\u2019s Commands.\n   Canto LXXX. The Way Prepared.\n   Canto LXXXI. The Assembly.\n   Canto LXXXII. The Departure.\n   Canto LXXXIII. The Journey Begun.\n   Canto LXXXIV. Guha\u2019s Anger.\n   Canto LXXXV. Guha And Bharat.\n   Canto LXXXVI. Guha\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LXXXVII. Guha\u2019s Story.\n   Canto LXXXVIII. The Ingud\u00ed Tree.\n   Canto LXXXIX. The Passage Of Gang\u00e1.\n   Canto XC. The Hermitage.\n   Canto XCI. Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s Feast.\n   Canto XCII. Bharat\u2019s Farewell.\n   Canto XCIII. Chitrak\u00fata In Sight.\n   Canto XCIV. Chitrak\u00fata.\n   Canto XCV. Mand\u00e1kin\u00ed.\n   Canto XCVI. The Magic Shaft.\n   Canto XCVII. Lakshman\u2019s Anger.\n   Canto XCVIII. Lakshman Calmed.\n   Canto XCIX. Bharat\u2019s Approach.\n   Canto C. The Meeting.\n   Canto CI. Bharata Questioned.\n   Canto CII. Bharat\u2019s Tidings.\n   Canto CIII. The Funeral Libation.\n   Canto CIV. The Meeting With The Queens.\n   Canto CV. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto CVI. Bharat\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto CVII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto CVIII. J\u00e1v\u00e1li\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto CIX. The Praises Of Truth.\n   Canto CX. The Sons Of Ikshv\u00e1ku.\n   Canto CXI. Counsel To Bharat.\n   Canto CXII. The Sandals.\n   Canto CXIII. Bharat\u2019s Return.\n   Canto CXIV. Bharat\u2019s Departure.\n   Canto CXV. Nandigr\u00e1m.\n   Canto CXVI. The Hermit\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto CXVII. Anas\u00fay\u00e1.\n   Canto CXVIII. Anas\u00fay\u00e1\u2019s Gifts.\n   Canto CXIX. The Forest.\nBOOK III.\n   Canto I. The Hermitage.\n   Canto II. Vir\u00e1dha.\n   Canto III. Vir\u00e1dha Attacked.\n   Canto IV. Vir\u00e1dha\u2019s Death.\n   Canto V. Sarabhanga.\n   Canto VI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Promise.\n   Canto VII. Sut\u00edkshna.\n   Canto VIII. The Hermitage.\n   Canto IX. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto X. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto XI. Agastya.\n   Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow.\n   Canto XIII. Agastya\u2019s Counsel.\n   Canto XIV. Jat\u00e1yus.\n   Canto XV. Panchavat\u00ed.\n   Canto XVI. Winter.\n   Canto XVII. S\u00farpanakh\u00e1.\n   Canto XVIII. The Mutilation.\n   Canto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara.\n   Canto XX. The Giants\u2019 Death.\n   Canto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara.\n   Canto XXII. Khara\u2019s Wrath.\n   Canto XXIII. The Omens.\n   Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight.\n   Canto XXV. The Battle.\n   Canto XXVI. D\u00fashan\u2019s Death.\n   Canto XXVII. The Death Of Trisir\u00e1s.\n   Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.\n   Canto XXIX. Khara\u2019s Defeat.\n   Canto XXX. Khara\u2019s Death.\n   Canto XXXI. R\u00e1van.\n   Canto XXXII. R\u00e1van Roused.\n   Canto XXXIII. S\u00farpanakh\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXIV. S\u00farpanakh\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXV. R\u00e1van\u2019s Journey.\n   Canto XXXVI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXVII. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXVIII. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXIX. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XL. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XLI. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto XLII. M\u00e1r\u00edcha Transformed.\n   Canto XLIII. The Wondrous Deer.\n   Canto XLIV. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Death.\n   Canto XLV. Lakshman\u2019s Departure.\n   Canto XLVI. The Guest.\n   Canto XLVII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Wooing.\n   Canto XLVIII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XLIX. The Rape Of S\u00edt\u00e1.\n   Canto L. Jat\u00e1yus.\n   Canto LI. The Combat.\n   Canto LII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Flight.\n   Canto LIII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Threats.\n   Canto LIV. Lank\u00e1.\n   Canto LV. S\u00edt\u00e1 In Prison.\n   Canto LVI. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Disdain.\n   Canto LVII. S\u00edt\u00e1 Comforted.\n   Canto LVIII. The Brothers\u2019 Meeting.\n   Canto LIX. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Return.\n   Canto LX. Lakshman Reproved.\n   Canto LXI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LXII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LXIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LXIV. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LXV. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Wrath.\n   Canto LXVI. Lakshman\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LXVII. R\u00e1ma Appeased.\n   Canto LXVIII. Jat\u00e1yus.\n   Canto LXIX. The Death Of Jat\u00e1yus.\n   Canto LXX. Kabandha.\n   Canto LXXI. Kabandha\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LXXII. Kabandha\u2019s Tale.\n   Canto LXXIII. Kabandha\u2019s Counsel.\n   Canto LXXIV. Kabandha\u2019s Death.\n   Canto LXXV. Savar\u00ed.\n   Canto LXXVI. Pamp\u00e1.\nBOOK IV.\n   Canto I. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto II. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Alarm.\n   Canto III. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto IV. Lakshman\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto V. The League.\n   Canto VI. The Tokens.\n   Canto VII. R\u00e1ma Consoled.\n   Canto VIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Promise.\n   Canto IX. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Story.\n   Canto X. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Story.\n   Canto XI. Dundubhi.\n   Canto XII. The Palm Trees.\n   Canto XIII. The Return To Kishkindh\u00e1.\n   Canto XIV. The Challenge.\n   Canto XV. T\u00e1r\u00e1.\n   Canto XVI. The Fall Of B\u00e1li.\n   Canto XVII. B\u00e1li\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XVIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto XIX. T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s Grief.\n   Canto XX. T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXI. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXII. B\u00e1li Dead.\n   Canto XXIII. T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXIV. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXV. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXVI. The Coronation.\n   Canto XXVII. R\u00e1ma On The Hill.\n   Canto XXVIII. The Rains.\n   Canto XXIX. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Counsel.\n   Canto XXX. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXXI. The Envoy.\n   Canto XXXII. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Counsel.\n   Canto XXXIII. Lakshman\u2019s Entry.\n   Canto XXXIV. Lakshman\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXV. T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXVI. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXVII. The Gathering.\n   Canto XXXVIII. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Departure.\n   Canto XXXIX. The V\u00e1nar Host.\n   Canto XL. The Army Of The East.\n   Canto XLI. The Army Of The South.\n   Canto XLII. The Army Of The West.\n   Canto XLIII. The Army Of The North.\n   Canto XLIV. The Ring.\n   Canto XLV. The Departure.\n   Canto XLVI. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Tale.\n   Canto XLVII. The Return.\n   Canto XLVIII. The Asur\u2019s Death.\n   Canto XLIX. Angad\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto L. The Enchanted Cave.\n   Canto LI. Svayamprabh\u00e1.\n   Canto LII. The Exit.\n   Canto LIII. Angad\u2019s Counsel.\n   Canto LIV. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LV. Angad\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto LVI. Samp\u00e1ti.\n   Canto LVII. Angad\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LVIII. Tidings Of S\u00edt\u00e1.\n   Canto LIX. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n   Canto LX. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n   Canto LXI. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n   Canto LXII. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n   Canto LXIII. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n   Canto LXIV. The Sea.\n   Canto LXV. The Council.\n   Canto LXVI. Hanum\u00e1n.\n   Canto LXVII. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\nBOOK V.\n   Canto I. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Leap.\n   Canto II. Lank\u00e1.\n   Canto III. The Guardian Goddess.\n   Canto IV. Within The City.\n   Canto VI. The Court.\n   Canto VII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Palace.\n   Canto VIII. The Enchanted Car.\n   Canto IX. The Ladies\u2019 Bower.\n   Canto X. R\u00e1van Asleep.\n   Canto XI. The Banquet Hall.\n   Canto XII. The Search Renewed.\n   Canto XIII. Despair And Hope.\n   Canto XIV. The Asoka Grove.\n   Canto XV. S\u00edt\u00e1.\n   Canto XVI. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XVII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Guard.\n   Canto XVIII. R\u00e1van.\n   Canto XIX. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Fear.\n   Canto XX. R\u00e1van\u2019s Wooing.\n   Canto XXI. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Scorn.\n   Canto XXII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Threat.\n   Canto XXIII. The Demons\u2019 Threats.\n   Canto XXIV. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto XXV. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXVI. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXVII. Trijat\u00e1\u2019s Dream.\n   Canto XXX. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Deliberation.\n   Canto XXXI. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Doubt.\n   Canto XXXIII. The Colloquy.\n   Canto XXXIV. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXV. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXVI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Ring.\n   Canto XXXVII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXVIII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Gem.\n   Canto XLI. The Ruin Of The Grove.\n   Canto XLII. The Giants Roused.\n   Canto XLIII. The Ruin Of The Temple.\n   Canto XLIV. Jambum\u00e1li\u2019s Death.\n   Canto XLV. The Seven Defeated.\n   Canto XLVI. The Captains.\n   Canto XLVII. The Death Of Aksha.\n   Canto XLVIII. Hanum\u00e1n Captured.\n   Canto XLIX. R\u00e1van.\n   Canto L. Prahasta\u2019s Questions.\n   Canto LI. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto LII. Vibhishan\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LIII. The Punishment.\n   Canto LIV. The Burning Of Lank\u00e1.\n   Canto LV. Fear For S\u00edt\u00e1.\n   Canto LVI. Mount Arishta.\n   Canto LVII. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Return.\n   Canto LVIII. The Feast Of Honey.\n   Canto LXV. The Tidings.\n   Canto LXVI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\nBOOK VI.\n   Canto I. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto II. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto III. Lank\u00e1.\n   Canto IV. The March.\n   Canto V. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto VI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto VII. R\u00e1van Encouraged.\n   Canto VIII. Prahasta\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto IX. Vibhishan\u2019s Counsel.\n   Canto X. Vibhishan\u2019s Counsel.\n   Canto XI. The Summons.\n   Canto XII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XIII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XIV. Vibhishan\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XV. Indraj\u00edt\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XVI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XVII. Vibhishan\u2019s Flight.\n   Canto XVIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XIX. Vibhishan\u2019s Counsel.\n   Canto XX. The Spies.\n   Canto XXI. Ocean Threatened.\n   Canto XXII. Ocean Threatened.\n   Canto XXIII. The Omens.\n   Canto XXIV. The Spy\u2019s Return.\n   Canto XXV. R\u00e1van\u2019s Spies.\n   Canto XXVI. The V\u00e1nar Chiefs.\n   Canto XXVII. The V\u00e1nar Chiefs.\n   Canto XXVIII. The Chieftains.\n   Canto XXIX. S\u00e1rd\u00fala Captured.\n   Canto XXX. S\u00e1rd\u00fala\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXI. The Magic Head.\n   Canto XXXII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XXXIII. Saram\u00e1.\n   Canto XXXIV. Saram\u00e1\u2019s Tidings.\n   Canto XXXV. Malyav\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto XXXVI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto XXXVII. Preparations.\n   Canto XXXVIII. The Ascent Of Suvela.\n   Canto XXXIX. Lank\u00e1.\n   Canto XL. R\u00e1van Attacked.\n   Canto XLI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Envoy.\n   Canto XLII. The Sally.\n   Canto XLIII. The Single Combats.\n   Canto XLIV. The Night.\n   Canto XLV. Indraj\u00edt\u2019s Victory.\n   Canto XLVI. Indraj\u00edt\u2019s Triumph.\n   Canto XLVII. S\u00edt\u00e1.\n   Canto XLVIII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XLIX. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto L. The Broken Spell.\n   Canto LI. Dh\u00famr\u00e1ksha\u2019s Sally.\n   Canto LII. Dh\u00famr\u00e1ksha\u2019s Death.\n   Canto LIII. Vajradanshtra\u2019s Sally.\n   Canto LIV. Vajradanshtra\u2019s Death.\n   Canto LIX. R\u00e1van\u2019s Sally.\n   Canto LX. Kumbhakarna Roused.\n   Canto LXI. The V\u00e1nars\u2019 Alarm.\n   Canto LXII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Request.\n   Canto LXIII. Kumbhakarna\u2019s Boast.\n   Canto LXIV. Mahodar\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LXV. Kumbhakarna\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LXVI. Kumbhakarna\u2019s Sally.\n   Canto LXVII. Kumbhakarna\u2019s Death.\n   Canto LXVIII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto LXIX. Nar\u00e1ntak\u2019s Death.\n   Canto LXX. The Death Of Trisir\u00e1s.\n   Canto LXXI. Atik\u00e1ya\u2019s Death.\n   Canto LXXII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n   Canto LXXIII. Indraj\u00edt\u2019s Victory.\n   Canto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs.\n   Canto LXXV. The Night Attack.\n   Canto XCIII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto XCVI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Sally.\n   Canto C. R\u00e1van In The Field.\n   Canto CI. Lakshman\u2019s Fall.\n   Canto CII. Lakshman Healed.\n   Canto CIII. Indra\u2019s Car.\n   Canto CVI. Glory To The Sun.\n   Canto CVIII. The Battle.\n   Canto CIX. The Battle.\n   Canto CX. R\u00e1van\u2019s Death.\n   Canto CXI. Vibhishan\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto CXII. The R\u00e1kshas Dames.\n   Canto CXIII. Mandodar\u00ed\u2019s Lament.\n   Canto CXIV. Vibhishan Consecrated.\n   Canto CXV. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Joy.\n   Canto CXVI. The Meeting.\n   Canto CXVII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Disgrace.\n   Canto CXVIII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Reply.\n   Canto CXIX. Glory To Vishnu.\n   Canto CXX. S\u00edt\u00e1 Restored.\n   Canto CXXI. Dasaratha.\n   Canto CXXII. Indra\u2019s Boon.\n   Canto CXXIII. The Magic Car.\n   Canto CXXIV. The Departure.\n   Canto CXXV. The Return.\n   Canto CXXVI. Bharat Consoled.\n   Canto CXXVII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Message.\n   Canto CXXVIII. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Story.\n   Canto CXXIX. The Meeting With Bharat.\n   Canto CXXX. The Consecration.\nAPPENDIX.\n   Section XIII. R\u00e1van Doomed.\n   Caput XIV. RATIO NECANDI RAVANAE EXCOGITATA.\n   Caput XIV. IL MEZZO STABILITO PER UCCIDERE R\u00c1VANO.\n   XIV.\n   Uttarak\u00e1nda.\nADDITIONAL NOTES.\n   Queen Fortune.\n   Indra.\n   Vishnu.\n   Siva.\n   Apsarases.\n   Vishnu\u2019s Incarnation As R\u00e1ma.\n   Kusa and Lava.\n   Parasur\u00e1ma, Page 87.\n   Y\u00e1ma, Page 68.\n   Fate, Page 68.\n   Visv\u00e1mitra, Page 76.\n   Household Gods, Page 102.\n   Page 107.\n   Page 108.\n   Page 109.\n   Page 110.\n   Page 120.\n   Page 125.\n   Page 125.\n   Page 136.\n   Page 152.\n   Page 157.\n   Page 161.\n   Page 169.\n   Page 174. The Praise Of Kings\n   Page 176. S\u00e1lmal\u00ed.\n   Page 178. Bharat\u2019s Return.\n   Page 183.\n   Page 203.\n   Page 219.\n   Page 249.\n   Page 250.\n   Page 257.\n   Page 286. Urvas\u00ed.\n   Page 324.\n   Page 326.\n   Page 329. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Alliance With Sugr\u00edva.\n   Page 342. The Fall Of B\u00e1li.\n   Page 370. The V\u00e1nar Host.\n   Page 372.\n   Page 374.\n   Page 378. Northern Kurus.\n   Page 428.\n   Page 431.\n   Page 434.\n   Page 436.\n   Page 452.\n   Page 462.\n   Page 466.\n   Page 470.\n   Page 497.\n   Page 489.\n   Page 489.\n   Page 492. R\u00e1van\u2019s Funeral.\n   Page 496.\n   Page 503. The Meeting.\n   Final Notes.\nINDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES\nFootnotes\n\n\n\n\n\n\nINVOCATION.(1)\n\n\nPraise to V\u00e1lm\u00edki,(2)bird of charming song,(3)\n  Who mounts on Poesy\u2019s sublimest spray,\nAnd sweetly sings with accent clear and strong\n  R\u00e1ma, aye R\u00e1ma, in his deathless lay.\n\nWhere breathes the man can listen to the strain\n  That flows in music from V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s tongue,\nNor feel his feet the path of bliss attain\n  When R\u00e1ma\u2019s glory by the saint is sung!\n\nThe stream R\u00e1m\u00e1yan leaves its sacred fount\n  The whole wide world from sin and stain to free.(4)\nThe Prince of Hermits is the parent mount,\n  The lordly R\u00e1ma is the darling sea.\n\nGlory to him whose fame is ever bright!\n  Glory to him, Prachetas\u2019(5)holy son!\nWhose pure lips quaff with ever new delight\n  The nectar-sea of deeds by R\u00e1ma done.\n\nHail, arch-ascetic, pious, good, and kind!\n  Hail, Saint V\u00e1lm\u00edki, lord of every lore!\nHail, holy Hermit, calm and pure of mind!\n  Hail, First of Bards, V\u00e1lm\u00edki, hail once more!\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I.(6)\n\n\n\n\nCanto I. N\u00e1rad.(7)\n\n\nOM.(8)\n\n  To sainted N\u00e1rad, prince of those\nWhose lore in words of wisdom flows.\nWhose constant care and chief delight\nWere Scripture and ascetic rite,\nThe good V\u00e1lm\u00edki, first and best\nOf hermit saints, these words addressed:(9)\n\u201cIn all this world, I pray thee, who\nIs virtuous, heroic, true?\nFirm in his vows, of grateful mind,\nTo every creature good and kind?\nBounteous, and holy, just, and wise,\nAlone most fair to all men\u2019s eyes?\nDevoid of envy, firm, and sage,\nWhose tranquil soul ne\u2019er yields to rage?\nWhom, when his warrior wrath is high,\nDo Gods embattled fear and fly?\nWhose noble might and gentle skill\nThe triple world can guard from ill?\nWho is the best of princes, he\nWho loves his people\u2019s good to see?\nThe store of bliss, the living mine\nWhere brightest joys and virtues shine?\nQueen Fortune\u2019s(10) best and dearest friend,\nWhose steps her choicest gifts attend?\nWho may with Sun and Moon compare,\nWith Indra,(11) Vish\u1e47u,(12) Fire, and Air?\nGrant, Saint divine,(13) the boon I ask,\nFor thee, I ween, an easy task,\nTo whom the power is given to know\nIf such a man breathe here below.\u201d\nThen N\u00e1rad, clear before whose eye\nThe present, past, and future lie,(14)\nMade ready answer: \u201cHermit, where\nAre graces found so high and rare?\nYet listen, and my tongue shall tell\nIn whom alone these virtues dwell.\nFrom old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s(15) line he came,\nKnown to the world by R\u00e1ma\u2019s name:\nWith soul subdued, a chief of might,\nIn Scripture versed, in glory bright,\nHis steps in virtue\u2019s paths are bent,\nObedient, pure, and eloquent.\nIn each emprise he wins success,\nAnd dying foes his power confess.\nTall and broad-shouldered, strong of limb,\nFortune has set her mark on him.\nGraced with a conch-shell\u2019s triple line,\nHis throat displays the auspicious sign.(16)\nHigh destiny is clear impressed\nOn massive jaw and ample chest,\nHis mighty shafts he truly aims,\nAnd foemen in the battle tames.\nDeep in the muscle, scarcely shown,\nEmbedded lies his collar-bone.\nHis lordly steps are firm and free,\nHis strong arms reach below his knee;(17)\nAll fairest graces join to deck\nHis head, his brow, his stately neck,\nAnd limbs in fair proportion set:\nThe manliest form e\u2019er fashioned yet.\nGraced with each high imperial mark,\nHis skin is soft and lustrous dark.\nLarge are his eyes that sweetly shine\nWith majesty almost divine.\nHis plighted word he ne\u2019er forgets;\nOn erring sense a watch he sets.\nBy nature wise, his teacher\u2019s skill\nHas trained him to subdue his will.\nGood, resolute and pure, and strong,\nHe guards mankind from scathe and wrong,\nAnd lends his aid, and ne\u2019er in vain,\nThe cause of justice to maintain.\nWell has he studied o\u2019er and o\u2019er\nThe Vedas(18)and their kindred lore.\nWell skilled is he the bow to draw,(19)\nWell trained in arts and versed in law;\nHigh-souled and meet for happy fate,\nMost tender and compassionate;\nThe noblest of all lordly givers,\nWhom good men follow, as the rivers\nFollow the King of Floods, the sea:\nSo liberal, so just is he.\nThe joy of Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s(20)heart,\nIn every virtue he has part:\nFirm as Him\u00e1laya\u2019s(21) snowy steep,\nUnfathomed like the mighty deep:\nThe peer of Vish\u1e47u\u2019s power and might,\nAnd lovely as the Lord of Night;(22)\nPatient as Earth, but, roused to ire,\nFierce as the world-destroying fire;\nIn bounty like the Lord of Gold,(23)\nAnd Justice self in human mould.\n\n  With him, his best and eldest son,\nBy all his princely virtues won\nKing Da\u015baratha(24) willed to share\nHis kingdom as the Regent Heir.\nBut when Kaikey\u00ed, youngest queen,\nWith eyes of envious hate had seen\nThe solemn pomp and regal state\nPrepared the prince to consecrate,\nShe bade the hapless king bestow\nTwo gifts he promised long ago,\nThat R\u00e1ma to the woods should flee,\nAnd that her child the heir should be.\n\n  By chains of duty firmly tied,\nThe wretched king perforce complied.\nR\u00e1ma, to please Kaikey\u00ed went\nObedient forth to banishment.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s truth was nobly shown,\nThen were his love and courage known,\nWhen for his brother\u2019s sake he dared\nAll perils, and his exile shared.\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1, R\u00e1ma\u2019s darling wife,\nLoved even as he loved his life,\nWhom happy marks combined to bless,\nA miracle of loveliness,\nOf Janak\u2019s royal lineage sprung,\nMost excellent of women, clung\nTo her dear lord, like Rohi\u1e47\u00ed\nRejoicing with the Moon to be.(25)\nThe King and people, sad of mood,\nThe hero\u2019s car awhile pursued.\nBut when Prince R\u00e1ma lighted down\nAt \u015aringavera\u2019s pleasant town,\nWhere Gang\u00e1\u2019s holy waters flow,\nHe bade his driver turn and go.\nGuha, Nish\u00e1das\u2019 king, he met,\nAnd on the farther bank was set.\nThen on from wood to wood they strayed,\nO\u2019er many a stream, through constant shade,\nAs Bharadv\u00e1ja bade them, till\nThey came to Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill.\nAnd R\u00e1ma there, with Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s aid,\nA pleasant little cottage made,\nAnd spent his days with S\u00edt\u00e1, dressed\nIn coat of bark and deerskin vest.(26)\nAnd Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da grew to be\nAs bright with those illustrious three\nAs Meru\u2019s(27) sacred peaks that shine\nWith glory, when the Gods recline\nBeneath them: \u015aiva\u2019s(28) self between\nThe Lord of Gold and Beauty\u2019s Queen.\n\n  The aged king for R\u00e1ma pined,\nAnd for the skies the earth resigned.\nBharat, his son, refused to reign,\nThough urged by all the twice-born(29) train.\nForth to the woods he fared to meet\nHis brother, fell before his feet,\nAnd cried, \u201cThy claim all men allow:\nO come, our lord and king be thou.\u201d\nBut R\u00e1ma nobly chose to be\nObservant of his sire\u2019s decree.\nHe placed his sandals(30) in his hand\nA pledge that he would rule the land:\nAnd bade his brother turn again.\nThen Bharat, finding prayer was vain,\nThe sandals took and went away;\nNor in Ayodhy\u00e1 would he stay.\nBut turned to Nandigr\u00e1ma, where\nHe ruled the realm with watchful care,\nStill longing eagerly to learn\nTidings of R\u00e1ma\u2019s safe return.\n\n  Then lest the people should repeat\nTheir visit to his calm retreat,\nAway from Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill\nFared R\u00e1ma ever onward till\nBeneath the shady trees he stood\nOf Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u00e1\u2019s primeval wood,\nVir\u00e1dha, giant fiend, he slew,\nAnd then Agastya\u2019s friendship knew.\nCounselled by him he gained the sword\nAnd bow of Indra, heavenly lord:\nA pair of quivers too, that bore\nOf arrows an exhaustless store.\nWhile there he dwelt in greenwood shade\nThe trembling hermits sought his aid,\nAnd bade him with his sword and bow\nDestroy the fiends who worked them woe:\nTo come like Indra strong and brave,\nA guardian God to help and save.\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s falchion left its trace\nDeep cut on \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1\u2019s face:\nA hideous giantess who came\nBurning for him with lawless flame.\nTheir sister\u2019s cries the giants heard.\nAnd vengeance in each bosom stirred:\nThe monster of the triple head.\nAnd D\u00fasha\u1e47 to the contest sped.\nBut they and myriad fiends beside\nBeneath the might of R\u00e1ma died.\n\n  When R\u00e1va\u1e47, dreaded warrior, knew\nThe slaughter of his giant crew:\nR\u00e1va\u1e47, the king, whose name of fear\nEarth, hell, and heaven all shook to hear:\nHe bade the fiend M\u00e1r\u00edcha aid\nThe vengeful plot his fury laid.\nIn vain the wise M\u00e1r\u00edcha tried\nTo turn him from his course aside:\nNot R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s self, he said, might hope\nWith R\u00e1ma and his strength to cope.\nImpelled by fate and blind with rage\nHe came to R\u00e1ma\u2019s hermitage.\nThere, by M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s magic art,\nHe wiled the princely youths apart,\nThe vulture(31) slew, and bore away\nThe wife of R\u00e1ma as his prey.\nThe son of Raghu(32) came and found\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yu slain upon the ground.\nHe rushed within his leafy cot;\nHe sought his wife, but found her not.\nThen, then the hero\u2019s senses failed;\nIn mad despair he wept and wailed.\nUpon the pile that bird he laid,\nAnd still in quest of S\u00edt\u00e1 strayed.\nA hideous giant then he saw,\nKabandha named, a shape of awe.\nThe monstrous fiend he smote and slew,\nAnd in the flame the body threw;\nWhen straight from out the funeral flame\nIn lovely form Kabandha came,\nAnd bade him seek in his distress\nA wise and holy hermitess.\nBy counsel of this saintly dame\nTo Pamp\u00e1\u2019s pleasant flood he came,\nAnd there the steadfast friendship won\nOf Hanum\u00e1n the Wind-God\u2019s son.\nCounselled by him he told his grief\nTo great Sugr\u00edva, V\u00e1nar chief,\nWho, knowing all the tale, before\nThe sacred flame alliance swore.\nSugr\u00edva to his new-found friend\nTold his own story to the end:\nHis hate of B\u00e1li for the wrong\nAnd insult he had borne so long.\nAnd R\u00e1ma lent a willing ear\nAnd promised to allay his fear.\nSugr\u00edva warned him of the might\nOf B\u00e1li, matchless in the fight,\nAnd, credence for his tale to gain,\nShowed the huge fiend(33) by B\u00e1li slain.\nThe prostrate corse of mountain size\nSeemed nothing in the hero\u2019s eyes;\nHe lightly kicked it, as it lay,\nAnd cast it twenty leagues(34) away.\nTo prove his might his arrows through\nSeven palms in line, uninjured, flew.\nHe cleft a mighty hill apart,\nAnd down to hell he hurled his dart.\nThen high Sugr\u00edva\u2019s spirit rose,\nAssured of conquest o\u2019er his foes.\nWith his new champion by his side\nTo vast Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s cave he hied.\nThen, summoned by his awful shout,\nKing B\u00e1li came in fury out,\nFirst comforted his trembling wife,\nThen sought Sugr\u00edva in the strife.\nOne shaft from R\u00e1ma\u2019s deadly bow\nThe monarch in the dust laid low.\nThen R\u00e1ma bade Sugr\u00edva reign\nIn place of royal B\u00e1li slain.\nThen speedy envoys hurried forth\nEastward and westward, south and north,\nCommanded by the grateful king\nTidings of R\u00e1ma\u2019s spouse to bring.\n\n  Then by Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s counsel led,\nBrave Hanum\u00e1n, who mocked at dread,\nSprang at one wild tremendous leap\nTwo hundred leagues across the deep.\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s(35) town he urged his way,\nWhere R\u00e1va\u1e47 held his royal sway.\nThere pensive \u2019neath A\u015boka(36) boughs\nHe found poor S\u00edt\u00e1, R\u00e1ma\u2019s spouse.\nHe gave the hapless girl a ring,\nA token from her lord and king.\nA pledge from her fair hand he bore;\nThen battered down the garden door.\nFive captains of the host he slew,\nSeven sons of councillors o\u2019erthrew;\nCrushed youthful Aksha on the field,\nThen to his captors chose to yield.\nSoon from their bonds his limbs were free,\nBut honouring the high decree\nWhich Brahm\u00e1(37) had pronounced of yore,\nHe calmly all their insults bore.\nThe town he burnt with hostile flame,\nAnd spoke again with R\u00e1ma\u2019s dame,\nThen swiftly back to R\u00e1ma flew\nWith tidings of the interview.\n\n  Then with Sugr\u00edva for his guide,\nCame R\u00e1ma to the ocean side.\nHe smote the sea with shafts as bright\nAs sunbeams in their summer height,\nAnd quick appeared the Rivers\u2019 King(38)\nObedient to the summoning.\nA bridge was thrown by Nala o\u2019er\nThe narrow sea from shore to shore.(39)\nThey crossed to Lank\u00e1\u2019s golden town,\nWhere R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand smote R\u00e1va\u1e47 down.\nVibhisha\u1e47 there was left to reign\nOver his brother\u2019s wide domain.\nTo meet her husband S\u00edt\u00e1 came;\nBut R\u00e1ma, stung with ire and shame,\nWith bitter words his wife addressed\nBefore the crowd that round her pressed.\nBut S\u00edt\u00e1, touched with noble ire,\nGave her fair body to the fire.\nThen straight the God of Wind appeared,\nAnd words from heaven her honour cleared.\nAnd R\u00e1ma clasped his wife again,\nUninjured, pure from spot and stain,\nObedient to the Lord of Fire\nAnd the high mandate of his sire.\nLed by the Lord who rules the sky,\nThe Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh,\nAnd honoured him with worthy meed,\nRejoicing in each glorious deed.\nHis task achieved, his foe removed,\nHe triumphed, by the Gods approved.\nBy grace of Heaven he raised to life\nThe chieftains slain in mortal strife;\nThen in the magic chariot through\nThe clouds to Nandigr\u00e1ma flew.\nMet by his faithful brothers there,\nHe loosed his votive coil of hair:\nThence fair Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town he gained,\nAnd o\u2019er his father\u2019s kingdom reigned.\nDisease or famine ne\u2019er oppressed\nHis happy people, richly blest\nWith all the joys of ample wealth,\nOf sweet content and perfect health.\nNo widow mourned her well-loved mate,\nNo sire his son\u2019s untimely fate.\nThey feared not storm or robber\u2019s hand;\nNo fire or flood laid waste the land:\nThe Golden Age(40) had come again\nTo bless the days of R\u00e1ma\u2019s reign.\n\n  From him, the great and glorious king,\nShall many a princely scion spring.\nAnd he shall rule, beloved by men,\nTen thousand years and hundreds ten,(41)\nAnd when his life on earth is past\nTo Brahm\u00e1\u2019s world shall go at last.\u201d\n\n  Whoe\u2019er this noble poem reads\nThat tells the tale of R\u00e1ma\u2019s deeds,\nGood as the Scriptures, he shall be\nFrom every sin and blemish free.\nWhoever reads the saving strain,\nWith all his kin the heavens shall gain.\nBr\u00e1hmans who read shall gather hence\nThe highest praise for eloquence.\nThe warrior, o\u2019er the land shall reign,\nThe merchant, luck in trade obtain;\nAnd \u015a\u00fadras listening(42) ne\u2019er shall fail\nTo reap advantage from the tale.(43)\n\n\n\n\nCanto II. Brahm\u00e1\u2019s Visit\n\n\nV\u00e1lm\u00edki, graceful speaker, heard,\nTo highest admiration stirred.\nTo him whose fame the tale rehearsed\nHe paid his mental worship first;\nThen with his pupil humbly bent\nBefore the saint most eloquent.\nThus honoured and dismissed the seer\nDeparted to his heavenly sphere.\nThen from his cot V\u00e1lm\u00edki hied\nTo Tamas\u00e1\u2019s(44) sequestered side,\nNot far remote from Gang\u00e1\u2019s tide.\nHe stood and saw the ripples roll\nPellucid o\u2019er a pebbly shoal.\nTo Bharadv\u00e1ja(45) by his side\nHe turned in ecstasy, and cried:\n\u201cSee, pupil dear, this lovely sight,\nThe smooth-floored shallow, pure and bright,\nWith not a speck or shade to mar,\nAnd clear as good men\u2019s bosoms are.\nHere on the brink thy pitcher lay,\nAnd bring my zone of bark, I pray.\nHere will I bathe: the rill has not,\nTo lave the limbs, a fairer spot.\nDo quickly as I bid, nor waste\nThe precious time; away, and haste.\u201d\n\n  Obedient to his master\u2019s hest\nQuick from the cot he brought the vest;\nThe hermit took it from his hand,\nAnd tightened round his waist the band;\nThen duly dipped and bathed him there,\nAnd muttered low his secret prayer.\nTo spirits and to Gods he made\nLibation of the stream, and strayed\nViewing the forest deep and wide\nThat spread its shade on every side.\nClose by the bank he saw a pair\nOf curlews sporting fearless there.\nBut suddenly with evil mind\nAn outcast fowler stole behind,\nAnd, with an aim too sure and true,\nThe male bird near the hermit slew.\nThe wretched hen in wild despair\nWith fluttering pinions beat the air,\nAnd shrieked a long and bitter cry\nWhen low on earth she saw him lie,\nHer loved companion, quivering, dead,\nHis dear wings with his lifeblood red;\nAnd for her golden crested mate\nShe mourned, and was disconsolate.\n\n  The hermit saw the slaughtered bird,\nAnd all his heart with ruth was stirred.\nThe fowler\u2019s impious deed distressed\nHis gentle sympathetic breast,\nAnd while the curlew\u2019s sad cries rang\nWithin his ears, the hermit sang:\n\u201cNo fame be thine for endless time,\nBecause, base outcast, of thy crime,\nWhose cruel hand was fain to slay\nOne of this gentle pair at play!\u201d\nE\u2019en as he spoke his bosom wrought\nAnd laboured with the wondering thought\nWhat was the speech his ready tongue\nHad uttered when his heart was wrung.\nHe pondered long upon the speech,\nRecalled the words and measured each,\nAnd thus exclaimed the saintly guide\nTo Bharadv\u00e1ja by his side:\n\u201cWith equal lines of even feet,\nWith rhythm and time and tone complete,\nThe measured form of words I spoke\nIn shock of grief be termed a \u015bloke.\u201d(46)\nAnd Bharadv\u00e1ja, nothing slow\nHis faithful love and zeal to show,\nAnswered those words of wisdom, \u201cBe\nThe name, my lord, as pleases thee.\u201d\n\n  As rules prescribe the hermit took\nSome lustral water from the brook.\nBut still on this his constant thought\nKept brooding, as his home he sought;\nWhile Bharadv\u00e1ja paced behind,\nA pupil sage of lowly mind,\nAnd in his hand a pitcher bore\nWith pure fresh water brimming o\u2019er.\nSoon as they reached their calm retreat\nThe holy hermit took his seat;\nHis mind from worldly cares recalled,\nAnd mused in deepest thought enthralled.\n\n  Then glorious Brahm\u00e1,(47) Lord Most High,\nCreator of the earth and sky,\nThe four-faced God, to meet the sage\nCame to V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s hermitage.\nSoon as the mighty God he saw,\nUp sprang the saint in wondering awe.\nMute, with clasped hands, his head he bent,\nAnd stood before him reverent.\nHis honoured guest he greeted well,\nWho bade him of his welfare tell;\nGave water for his blessed feet,\nBrought offerings,(48) and prepared a seat.\nIn honoured place the God Most High\nSate down, and bade the saint sit nigh.\nThere sate before V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s eyes\nThe Father of the earth and skies;\nBut still the hermit\u2019s thoughts were bent\nOn one thing only, all intent\nOn that poor curlew\u2019s mournful fate\nLamenting for her slaughtered mate;\nAnd still his lips, in absent mood,\nThe verse that told his grief, renewed:\n\u201cWoe to the fowler\u2019s impious hand\nThat did the deed that folly planned;\nThat could to needless death devote\nThe curlew of the tuneful throat!\u201d\n\n  The heavenly Father smiled in glee,\nAnd said, \u201cO best of hermits, see,\nA verse, unconscious, thou hast made;\nNo longer be the task delayed.\nSeek not to trace, with labour vain,\nThe unpremeditated strain.\nThe tuneful lines thy lips rehearsed\nSpontaneous from thy bosom burst.\nThen come, O best of seers, relate\nThe life of R\u00e1ma good and great,\nThe tale that saintly N\u00e1rad told,\nIn all its glorious length unfold.\nOf all the deeds his arm has done\nUpon this earth, omit not one,\nAnd thus the noble life record\nOf that wise, brave, and virtuous lord.\nHis every act to day displayed,\nHis secret life to none betrayed:\nHow Lakshma\u1e47, how the giants fought;\nWith high emprise and hidden thought:\nAnd all that Janak\u2019s child(49) befell\nWhere all could see, where none could tell.\nThe whole of this shall truly be\nMade known, O best of saints, to thee.\nIn all thy poem, through my grace,\nNo word of falsehood shall have place.\nBegin the story, and rehearse\nThe tale divine in charming verse.\nAs long as in this firm-set land\nThe streams shall flow, the mountains stand,\nSo long throughout the world, be sure,\nThe great R\u00e1m\u00e1yan shall endure.(50)\nWhile the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan\u2019s ancient strain\nShall glorious in the earth remain,\nTo higher spheres shalt thou arise\nAnd dwell with me above the skies.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and vanished into air,\nAnd left V\u00e1lm\u00edki wondering there.\nThe pupils of the holy man,\nMoved by their love of him, began\nTo chant that verse, and ever more\nThey marvelled as they sang it o\u2019er:\n\u201cBehold, the four-lined balanced rime,\nRepeated over many a time,\nIn words that from the hermit broke\nIn shock of grief, becomes a \u015bloke.\u201d\nThis measure now V\u00e1lm\u00edki chose\nWherein his story to compose.\nIn hundreds of such verses, sweet\nWith equal lines and even feet,\nThe saintly poet, lofty-souled,\nThe glorious deeds of R\u00e1ma told.\n\n\n\n\nCanto III. The Argument.\n\n\nThe hermit thus with watchful heed\nReceived the poem\u2019s pregnant seed,\nAnd looked with eager thought around\nIf fuller knowledge might be found.\nHis lips with water first bedewed,(51)\nHe sate, in reverent attitude\nOn holy grass,(52) the points all bent\nTogether toward the orient;(53)\nAnd thus in meditation he\nEntered the path of poesy.\nThen clearly, through his virtue\u2019s might,\nAll lay discovered to his sight,\nWhate\u2019er befell, through all their life,\nR\u00e1ma, his brother, and his wife:\nAnd Da\u015baratha and each queen\nAt every time, in every scene:\nHis people too, of every sort;\nThe nobles of his princely court:\nWhate\u2019er was said, whate\u2019er decreed,\nEach time they sate each plan and deed:\nFor holy thought and fervent rite\nHad so refined his keener sight\nThat by his sanctity his view\nThe present, past, and future knew,\nAnd he with mental eye could grasp,\nLike fruit within his fingers clasp,\nThe life of R\u00e1ma, great and good,\nRoaming with S\u00edt\u00e1 in the wood.\nHe told, with secret-piercing eyes,\nThe tale of R\u00e1ma\u2019s high emprise,\nEach listening ear that shall entice,\nA sea of pearls of highest price.\nThus good V\u00e1lm\u00edki, sage divine,\nRehearsed the tale of Raghu\u2019s line,\nAs N\u00e1rad, heavenly saint, before\nHad traced the story\u2019s outline o\u2019er.\nHe sang of R\u00e1ma\u2019s princely birth,\nHis kindness and heroic worth;\nHis love for all, his patient youth,\nHis gentleness and constant truth,\nAnd many a tale and legend old\nBy holy Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra told.\nHow Janak\u2019s child he wooed and won,\nAnd broke the bow that bent to none.\nHow he with every virtue fraught\nHis namesake R\u00e1ma(54) met and fought.\nThe choice of R\u00e1ma for the throne;\nThe malice by Kaikey\u00ed shown,\nWhose evil counsel marred the plan\nAnd drove him forth a banisht man.\nHow the king grieved and groaned, and cried,\nAnd swooned away and pining died.\nThe subjects\u2019 woe when thus bereft;\nAnd how the following crowds he left:\nWith Guha talked, and firmly stern\nOrdered his driver to return.\nHow Gang\u00e1\u2019s farther shore he gained;\nBy Bharadv\u00e1ja entertained,\nBy whose advice he journeyed still\nAnd came to Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill.\nHow there he dwelt and built a cot;\nHow Bharat journeyed to the spot;\nHis earnest supplication made;\nDrink-offerings to their father paid;\nThe sandals given by R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand,\nAs emblems of his right, to stand:\nHow from his presence Bharat went\nAnd years in Nandigr\u00e1ma spent.\nHow R\u00e1ma entered Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood\nAnd in Sut\u00edkh\u1e47a\u2019s presence stood.\nThe favour Anas\u00fay\u00e1 showed,\nThe wondrous balsam she bestowed.\nHow \u015aarabhanga\u2019s dwelling-place\nThey sought; saw Indra face to face;\nThe meeting with Agastya gained;\nThe heavenly bow from him obtained.\nHow R\u00e1ma with Vir\u00e1dha met;\nTheir home in Panchava\u1e6da set.\nHow \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 underwent\nThe mockery and disfigurement.\nOf Tri\u015bir\u00e1\u2019s and Khara\u2019s fall,\nOf R\u00e1va\u1e47 roused at vengeance call,\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha doomed, without escape;\nThe fair Videhan(55) lady\u2019s rape.\nHow R\u00e1ma wept and raved in vain,\nAnd how the Vulture-king was slain.\nHow R\u00e1ma fierce Kabandha slew;\nThen to the side of Pamp\u00e1 drew,\nMet Hanum\u00e1n, and her whose vows\nWere kept beneath the greenwood boughs.\nHow Raghu\u2019s son, the lofty-souled,\nOn Pamp\u00e1\u2019s bank wept uncontrolled,\nThen journeyed, Rishyam\u00fak to reach,\nAnd of Sugr\u00edva then had speech.\nThe friendship made, which both had sought:\nHow B\u00e1li and Sugr\u00edva fought.\nHow B\u00e1li in the strife was slain,\nAnd how Sugr\u00edva came to reign.\nThe treaty, T\u00e1ra\u2019s wild lament;\nThe rainy nights in watching spent.\nThe wrath of Raghu\u2019s lion son;\nThe gathering of the hosts in one.\nThe sending of the spies about,\nAnd all the regions pointed out.\nThe ring by R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand bestowed;\nThe cave wherein the bear abode.\nThe fast proposed, their lives to end;\nSampati gained to be their friend.\nThe scaling of the hill, the leap\nOf Hanum\u00e1n across the deep.\nOcean\u2019s command that bade them seek\nMain\u00e1ka of the lofty peak.\nThe death of Sinhik\u00e1, the sight\nOf Lank\u00e1 with her palace bright\nHow Hanum\u00e1n stole in at eve;\nHis plan the giants to deceive.\nHow through the square he made his way\nTo chambers where the women lay,\nWithin the A\u015boka garden came\nAnd there found R\u00e1ma\u2019s captive dame.\nHis colloquy with her he sought,\nAnd giving of the ring he brought.\nHow S\u00edt\u00e1 gave a gem o\u2019erjoyed;\nHow Hanum\u00e1n the grove destroyed.\nHow giantesses trembling fled,\nAnd servant fiends were smitten dead.\nHow Hanum\u00e1n was seized; their ire\nWhen Lank\u00e1 blazed with hostile fire.\nHis leap across the sea once more;\nThe eating of the honey store.\nHow R\u00e1ma he consoled, and how\nHe showed the gem from S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s brow.\nWith Ocean, R\u00e1ma\u2019s interview;\nThe bridge that Nala o\u2019er it threw.\nThe crossing, and the sitting down\nAt night round Lank\u00e1\u2019s royal town.\nThe treaty with Vibh\u00edsha\u1e47 made:\nThe plan for R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s slaughter laid.\nHow Kumbhakar\u1e47a in his pride\nAnd Meghan\u00e1da fought and died.\nHow R\u00e1va\u1e47 in the fight was slain,\nAnd captive S\u00edt\u00e1 brought again.\nVibh\u00edsha\u1e47 set upon the throne;\nThe flying chariot Pushpak shown.\nHow Brahm\u00e1 and the Gods appeared,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s doubted honour cleared.\nHow in the flying car they rode\nTo Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s cabin abode.\nThe Wind-God\u2019s son sent on afar;\nHow Bharat met the flying car.\nHow R\u00e1ma then was king ordained;\nThe legions their discharge obtained.\nHow R\u00e1ma cast his queen away;\nHow grew the people\u2019s love each day.\nThus did the saint V\u00e1lm\u00edki tell\nWhate\u2019er in R\u00e1ma\u2019s life befell,\nAnd in the closing verses all\nThat yet to come will once befall.\n\n\n\n\nCanto IV. The Rhapsodists.\n\n\nWhen to the end the tale was brought,\nRose in the sage\u2019s mind the thought;\n\u201cNow who throughout this earth will go,\nAnd tell it forth that all may know?\u201d\nAs thus he mused with anxious breast,\nBehold, in hermit\u2019s raiment dressed,\nKu\u015b\u00e1 and Lava(56) came to greet\nTheir master and embrace his feet.\nThe twins he saw, that princely pair\nSweet-voiced, who dwelt beside him there\nNone for the task could be more fit,\nFor skilled were they in Holy Writ;\nAnd so the great R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, fraught\nWith lore divine, to these he taught:\nThe lay whose verses sweet and clear\nTake with delight the listening ear,\nThat tell of S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s noble life\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s fall in battle strife.\nGreat joy to all who hear they bring,\nSweet to recite and sweet to sing.\nFor music\u2019s sevenfold notes are there,\nAnd triple measure,(57) wrought with care\nWith melody and tone and time,\nAnd flavours(58) that enhance the rime;\nHeroic might has ample place,\nAnd loathing of the false and base,\nWith anger, mirth, and terror, blent\nWith tenderness, surprise, content.\nWhen, half the hermit\u2019s grace to gain,\nAnd half because they loved the strain,\nThe youth within their hearts had stored\nThe poem that his lips outpoured,\nV\u00e1lm\u00edki kissed them on the head,\nAs at his feet they bowed, and said;\n\u201cRecite ye this heroic song\nIn tranquil shades where sages throng:\nRecite it where the good resort,\nIn lowly home and royal court.\u201d\n\n  The hermit ceased. The tuneful pair,\nLike heavenly minstrels sweet and fair,\nIn music\u2019s art divinely skilled,\nTheir saintly master\u2019s word fulfilled.\nLike R\u00e1ma\u2019s self, from whom they came,\nThey showed their sire in face and frame,\nAs though from some fair sculptured stone\nTwo selfsame images had grown.\nSometimes the pair rose up to sing,\nSurrounded by a holy ring,\nWhere seated on the grass had met\nFull many a musing anchoret.\nThen tears bedimmed those gentle eyes,\nAs transport took them and surprise,\nAnd as they listened every one\nCried in delight, Well done! Well done!\nThose sages versed in holy lore\nPraised the sweet minstrels more and more:\nAnd wondered at the singers\u2019 skill,\nAnd the bard\u2019s verses sweeter still,\nWhich laid so clear before the eye\nThe glorious deeds of days gone by.\nThus by the virtuous hermits praised,\nInspirited their voice they raised.\nPleased with the song this holy man\nWould give the youths a water-can;\nOne gave a fair ascetic dress,\nOr sweet fruit from the wilderness.\nOne saint a black-deer\u2019s hide would bring,\nAnd one a sacrificial string:\nOne, a clay pitcher from his hoard,\nAnd one, a twisted munja cord.(59)\nOne in his joy an axe would find,\nOne braid, their plaited locks to bind.\nOne gave a sacrificial cup,\nOne rope to tie their fagots up;\nWhile fuel at their feet was laid,\nOr hermit\u2019s stool of fig-tree made.\nAll gave, or if they gave not, none\nForgot at least a benison.\nSome saints, delighted with their lays,\nWould promise health and length of days;\nOthers with surest words would add\nSome boon to make their spirit glad.\nIn such degree of honour then\nThat song was held by holy men:\nThat living song which life can give,\nBy which shall many a minstrel live.\nIn seat of kings, in crowded hall,\nThey sang the poem, praised of all.\nAnd R\u00e1ma chanced to hear their lay,\nWhile he the votive steed(60) would slay,\nAnd sent fit messengers to bring\nThe minstrel pair before the king.\nThey came, and found the monarch high\nEnthroned in gold, his brothers nigh;\nWhile many a minister below,\nAnd noble, sate in lengthened row.\nThe youthful pair awhile he viewed\nGraceful in modest attitude,\nAnd then in words like these addressed\nHis brother Lakshma\u1e47 and the rest:\n\u201cCome, listen to the wondrous strain\nRecited by these godlike twain,\nSweet singers of a story fraught\nWith melody and lofty thought.\u201d\n\n  The pair, with voices sweet and strong,\nRolled the full tide of noble song,\nWith tone and accent deftly blent\nTo suit the changing argument.\nMid that assembly loud and clear\nRang forth that lay so sweet to hear,\nThat universal rapture stole\nThrough each man\u2019s frame and heart and soul.\n\u201cThese minstrels, blest with every sign\nThat marks a high and princely line,\n  In holy shades who dwell,\nEnshrined in Saint V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s lay,\nA monument to live for aye,\n  My deeds in song shall tell.\u201d\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke: their breasts were fired,\nAnd the great tale, as if inspired,\n  The youths began to sing,\nWhile every heart with transport swelled,\nAnd mute and rapt attention held\n  The concourse and the king.\n\n\n\n\nCanto V. Ayodhy\u00e1.\n\n\n  \u201cIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s sons from days of old\nWere ever brave and mighty-souled.\nThe land their arms had made their own\nWas bounded by the sea alone.\nTheir holy works have won them praise,\nThrough countless years, from Manu\u2019s days.\nTheir ancient sire was Sagar, he\nWhose high command dug out the sea:(61)\nWith sixty thousand sons to throng\nAround him as he marched along.\nFrom them this glorious tale proceeds:\nThe great R\u00e1m\u00e1yan tells their deeds.\nThis noble song whose lines contain\nLessons of duty, love, and gain,\nWe two will now at length recite,\nWhile good men listen with delight.\n\n  On Sarj\u00fa\u2019s(62) bank, of ample size,\nThe happy realm of Ko\u015bal lies,\nWith fertile length of fair champaign\nAnd flocks and herds and wealth of grain.\nThere, famous in her old renown,\nAyodhy\u00e1(63) stands, the royal town,\nIn bygone ages built and planned\nBy sainted Manu\u2019s(64) princely hand.\nImperial seat! her walls extend\nTwelve measured leagues from end to end,\nAnd three in width from side to side,\nWith square and palace beautified.\nHer gates at even distance stand;\nHer ample roads are wisely planned.\nRight glorious is her royal street\nWhere streams allay the dust and heat.\nOn level ground in even row\nHer houses rise in goodly show:\nTerrace and palace, arch and gate\nThe queenly city decorate.\nHigh are her ramparts, strong and vast,\nBy ways at even distance passed,\nWith circling moat, both deep and wide,\nAnd store of weapons fortified.\n\n  King Da\u015baratha, lofty-souled,\nThat city guarded and controlled,\nWith towering S\u00e1l trees belted round,(65)\nAnd many a grove and pleasure ground,\nAs royal Indra, throned on high,\nRules his fair city in the sky.(66)\nShe seems a painted city, fair\nWith chess-board line and even square.(67)\nAnd cool boughs shade the lovely lake\nWhere weary men their thirst may slake.\nThere gilded chariots gleam and shine,\nAnd stately piles the Gods enshrine.\nThere gay sleek people ever throng\nTo festival and dance and song.\nA mine is she of gems and sheen,\nThe darling home of Fortune\u2019s Queen.\nWith noblest sort of drink and meat,\nThe fairest rice and golden wheat,\nAnd fragrant with the chaplet\u2019s scent\nWith holy oil and incense blent.\nWith many an elephant and steed,\nAnd wains for draught and cars for speed.\nWith envoys sent by distant kings,\nAnd merchants with their precious things\nWith banners o\u2019er her roofs that play,\nAnd weapons that a hundred slay;(68)\nAll warlike engines framed by man,\nAnd every class of artisan.\nA city rich beyond compare\nWith bards and minstrels gathered there,\nAnd men and damsels who entrance\nThe soul with play and song and dance.\nIn every street is heard the lute,\nThe drum, the tabret, and the flute,\nThe Veda chanted soft and low,\nThe ringing of the archer\u2019s bow;\nWith bands of godlike heroes skilled\nIn every warlike weapon, filled,\nAnd kept by warriors from the foe,\nAs N\u00e1gas guard their home below.(69)\nThere wisest Br\u00e1hmans evermore\n  The flame of worship feed,\nAnd versed in all the Vedas\u2019 lore,\n  Their lives of virtue lead.\nTruthful and pure, they freely give;\n  They keep each sense controlled,\nAnd in their holy fervour live\n  Like the great saints of old.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VI. The King.\n\n\nThere reigned a king of name revered,\nTo country and to town endeared,\nGreat Da\u015baratha, good and sage,\nWell read in Scripture\u2019s holy page:\nUpon his kingdom\u2019s weal intent,\nMighty and brave and provident;\nThe pride of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s seed\nFor lofty thought and righteous deed.\nPeer of the saints, for virtues famed,\nFor foes subdued and passions tamed:\nA rival in his wealth untold\nOf Indra and the Lord of Gold.\nLike Manu first of kings, he reigned,\nAnd worthily his state maintained.\nFor firm and just and ever true\nLove, duty, gain he kept in view,\nAnd ruled his city rich and free,\nLike Indra\u2019s Amar\u00e1vat\u00ed.\nAnd worthy of so fair a place\nThere dwelt a just and happy race\n  With troops of children blest.\nEach man contented sought no more,\nNor longed with envy for the store\n  By richer friends possessed.\nFor poverty was there unknown,\nAnd each man counted as his own\n  Kine, steeds, and gold, and grain.\nAll dressed in raiment bright and clean,\nAnd every townsman might be seen\n  With earrings, wreath, or chain.\nNone deigned to feed on broken fare,\nAnd none was false or stingy there.\nA piece of gold, the smallest pay,\nWas earned by labour for a day.\nOn every arm were bracelets worn,\nAnd none was faithless or forsworn,\n  A braggart or unkind.\nNone lived upon another\u2019s wealth,\nNone pined with dread or broken health,\n  Or dark disease of mind.\nHigh-souled were all. The slanderous word,\nThe boastful lie, were never heard.\nEach man was constant to his vows,\nAnd lived devoted to his spouse.\nNo other love his fancy knew,\nAnd she was tender, kind, and true.\nHer dames were fair of form and face,\nWith charm of wit and gentle grace,\nWith modest raiment simply neat,\nAnd winning manners soft and sweet.\nThe twice-born sages, whose delight\nWas Scripture\u2019s page and holy rite,\nTheir calm and settled course pursued,\nNor sought the menial multitude.\nIn many a Scripture each was versed,\nAnd each the flame of worship nursed,\n  And gave with lavish hand.\nEach paid to Heaven the offerings due,\nAnd none was godless or untrue\n  In all that holy band.\nTo Br\u00e1hmans, as the laws ordain,\nThe Warrior caste were ever fain\n  The reverence due to pay;\nAnd these the Vai\u015byas\u2019 peaceful crowd,\nWho trade and toil for gain, were proud\n  To honour and obey;\nAnd all were by the \u015a\u00fadras(70) served,\nWho never from their duty swerved,\nTheir proper worship all addressed\nTo Br\u00e1hman, spirits, God, and guest.\nPure and unmixt their rites remained,\nTheir race\u2019s honour ne\u2019er was stained.(71)\nCheered by his grandsons, sons, and wife,\nEach passed a long and happy life.\nThus was that famous city held\nBy one who all his race excelled,\n  Blest in his gentle reign,\nAs the whole land aforetime swayed\nBy Manu, prince of men, obeyed\n  Her king from main to main.\nAnd heroes kept her, strong and brave,\nAs lions guard their mountain cave:\nFierce as devouring flame they burned,\nAnd fought till death, but never turned.\nHorses had she of noblest breed,\nLike Indra\u2019s for their form and speed,\nFrom V\u00e1hl\u00ed\u2019s(72) hills and Sindhu\u2019s(73) sand,\nVan\u00e1yu(74) and K\u00e1mboja\u2019s land.(75)\nHer noble elephants had strayed\nThrough Vindhyan and Him\u00e1layan shade,\nGigantic in their bulk and height,\nYet gentle in their matchless might.\nThey rivalled well the world-spread fame\nOf the great stock from which they came,\n  Of V\u00e1man, vast of size,\nOf Mah\u00e1padma\u2019s glorious line,\nThine, Anjan, and, Air\u00e1vat, thine.(76)\n  Upholders of the skies.\nWith those, enrolled in fourfold class,\nWho all their mighty kin surpass,\n  Whom men Matangas name,\nAnd Mrigas spotted black and white,\nAnd Bhadras of unwearied might,\nAnd Mandras hard to tame.(77)\nThus, worthy of the name she bore,(78)\nAyodhy\u00e1 for a league or more\n  Cast a bright glory round,\nWhere Da\u015baratha wise and great\nGoverned his fair ancestral state,\n  With every virtue crowned.\nLike Indra in the skies he reigned\nIn that good town whose wall contained\n  High domes and turrets proud,\nWith gates and arcs of triumph decked,\nAnd sturdy barriers to protect\n  Her gay and countless crowd.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VII. The Ministers.\n\n\nTwo sages, holy saints, had he,\nHis ministers and priests to be:\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, faithful to advise,\nAnd V\u00e1madeva, Scripture-wise.\nEight other lords around him stood,\nAll skilled to counsel, wise and good:\nJayanta, Vijay, Dhrish\u1e6di bold\nIn fight, affairs of war controlled:\nSiddh\u00e1rth and Arthas\u00e1dhak true\nWatched o\u2019er expense and revenue,\nAnd Dharmap\u00e1l and wise A\u015bok\nOf right and law and justice spoke.\nWith these the sage Sumantra, skilled\nTo urge the car, high station filled.\n  All these in knowledge duly trained\nEach passion and each sense restrained:\nWith modest manners, nobly bred\nEach plan and nod and look they read,\nUpon their neighbours\u2019 good intent,\nMost active and benevolent:\nAs sit the Vasus(79) round their king,\nThey sate around him counselling.\nThey ne\u2019er in virtue\u2019s loftier pride\nAnother\u2019s lowly gifts decried.\nIn fair and seemly garb arrayed,\nNo weak uncertain plans they made.\nWell skilled in business, fair and just,\nThey gained the people\u2019s love and trust,\nAnd thus without oppression stored\nThe swelling treasury of their lord.\nBound in sweet friendship each to each,\nThey spoke kind thoughts in gentle speech.\nThey looked alike with equal eye\nOn every caste, on low and high.\nDevoted to their king, they sought,\nEre his tongue spoke, to learn his thought,\nAnd knew, as each occasion rose,\nTo hide their counsel or disclose.\nIn foreign lands or in their own\nWhatever passed, to them was known.\nBy secret spies they timely knew\nWhat men were doing or would do.\nSkilled in the grounds of war and peace\nThey saw the monarch\u2019s state increase,\nWatching his weal with conquering eye\nThat never let occasion by,\nWhile nature lent her aid to bless\nTheir labours with unbought success.\nNever for anger, lust, or gain,\nWould they their lips with falsehood stain.\nInclined to mercy they could scan\nThe weakness and the strength of man.\nThey fairly judged both high and low,\nAnd ne\u2019er would wrong a guiltless foe;\nYet if a fault were proved, each one\nWould punish e\u2019en his own dear son.\nBut there and in the kingdom\u2019s bound\nNo thief or man impure was found:\nNone of loose life or evil fame,\nNo tempter of another\u2019s dame.\nContented with their lot each caste\nCalm days in blissful quiet passed;\nAnd, all in fitting tasks employed,\nCountry and town deep rest enjoyed,\nWith these wise lords around his throne\n  The monarch justly reigned,\nAnd making every heart his own\n  The love of all men gained.\nWith trusty agents, as beseems,\n  Each distant realm he scanned,\nAs the sun visits with his beams\n  Each corner of the land.\nNe\u2019er would he on a mightier foe\n  With hostile troops advance,\nNor at an equal strike a blow\n  In war\u2019s delusive chance.\nThese lords in council bore their part\nWith ready brain and faithful heart,\nWith skill and knowledge, sense and tact,\nGood to advise and bold to act.\nAnd high and endless fame he won\n  With these to guide his schemes,\nAs, risen in his might, the sun\n  Wins glory with his beams.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VIII. Sumantra\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nBut splendid, just, and great of mind,\nThe childless king for offspring pined.\nNo son had he his name to grace,\nTransmitter of his royal race.\nLong had his anxious bosom wrought,\nAnd as he pondered rose the thought:\n\u201cA votive steed \u2019twere good to slay,\nSo might a son the gift repay.\u201d\nBefore his lords his plan he laid,\nAnd bade them with their wisdom aid:\nThen with these words Sumantra, best\nOf royal counsellors, addressed:\n\u201cHither, Va\u015bish\u1e6dha at their head,\nLet all my priestly guides be led.\u201d\n  To him Sumantra made reply:\n\u201cHear, Sire, a tale of days gone by.\nTo many a sage in time of old,\nSanatkum\u00e1r, the saint, foretold\nHow from thine ancient line, O King,\nA son, when years came round, should spring.\n\u201cHere dwells,\u201d \u2019twas thus the seer began,\n\u201cOf Ka\u015byap\u2019s(80) race, a holy man,\nVibh\u00e1\u1e47dak named: to him shall spring\nA son, the famous Rishya\u015bring.\nBred with the deer that round him roam,\nThe wood shall be that hermit\u2019s home.\nTo him no mortal shall be known\nExcept his holy sire alone.\nStill by those laws shall he abide\nWhich lives of youthful Br\u00e1hmans guide,\nObedient to the strictest rule\nThat forms the young ascetic\u2019s school:\nAnd all the wondering world shall hear\nOf his stern life and penance drear;\nHis care to nurse the holy fire\nAnd do the bidding of his sire.\nThen, seated on the Angas\u2019(81) throne,\nShall Lomap\u00e1d to fame be known.\nBut folly wrought by that great king\nA plague upon the land shall bring;\nNo rain for many a year shall fall\nAnd grievous drought shall ruin all.\nThe troubled king with many a prayer\nShall bid the priests some cure declare:\n\u201cThe lore of Heaven \u2019tis yours to know,\nNor are ye blind to things below:\nDeclare, O holy men, the way\nThis plague to expiate and stay.\u201d\nThose best of Br\u00e1hmans shall reply:\n\u201cBy every art, O Monarch, try\nHither to bring Vibh\u00e1\u1e47dak\u2019s child,\nPersuaded, captured, or beguiled.\nAnd when the boy is hither led\nTo him thy daughter duly wed.\u201d\n\n  But how to bring that wondrous boy\nHis troubled thoughts will long employ,\nAnd hopeless to achieve the task\nHe counsel of his lords will ask,\nAnd bid his priests and servants bring\nWith honour saintly Rishya\u015bring.\nBut when they hear the monarch\u2019s speech,\nAll these their master will beseech,\nWith trembling hearts and looks of woe,\nTo spare them, for they fear to go.\nAnd many a plan will they declare\n  And crafty plots will frame,\nAnd promise fair to show him there,\n  Unforced, with none to blame.\nOn every word his lords shall say,\n  The king will meditate,\nAnd on the third returning day\n  Recall them to debate.\nThen this shall be the plan agreed,\n  That damsels shall be sent\nAttired in holy hermits\u2019 weed,\n  And skilled in blandishment,\nThat they the hermit may beguile\nWith every art and amorous wile\nWhose use they know so well,\nAnd by their witcheries seduce\nThe unsuspecting young recluse\n  To leave his father\u2019s cell.\nThen when the boy with willing feet\nShall wander from his calm retreat\n  And in that city stand,\nThe troubles of the king shall end,\nAnd streams of blessed rain descend\n  Upon the thirsty land.\nThus shall the holy Rishya\u015bring\nTo Lomap\u00e1d, the mighty king,\n  By wedlock be allied;\nFor \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1, fairest of the fair,\nIn mind and grace beyond compare,\n  Shall be his royal bride.\nHe, at the Offering of the Steed,\nThe flames with holy oil shall feed,\nAnd for King Da\u015baratha gain\nSons whom his prayers have begged in vain.\u201d\n\u201cI have repeated, Sire, thus far,\nThe words of old Sanatkum\u00e1r,\nIn order as he spoke them then\nAmid the crowd of holy men.\u201d\n  Then Da\u015baratha cried with joy,\n\u201cSay how they brought the hermit boy.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto IX. Rishyasring.\n\n\nThe wise Sumantra, thus addressed,\nUnfolded at the king\u2019s behest\nThe plan the lords in council laid\nTo draw the hermit from the shade:\n\u201cThe priest, amid the lordly crowd,\nTo Lomap\u00e1d thus spoke aloud:\n\u201cHear, King, the plot our thoughts have framed,\nA harmless trick by all unblamed.\nFar from the world that hermit\u2019s child\nLives lonely in the distant wild:\nA stranger to the joys of sense,\nHis bliss is pain and abstinence;\nAnd all unknown are women yet\nTo him, a holy anchoret.\nThe gentle passions we will wake\nThat with resistless influence shake\n  The hearts of men; and he\nDrawn by enchantment strong and sweet\nShall follow from his lone retreat,\n  And come and visit thee.\nLet ships be formed with utmost care\nThat artificial trees may bear,\n  And sweet fruit deftly made;\nLet goodly raiment, rich and rare,\nAnd flowers, and many a bird be there\n  Beneath the leafy shade.\nUpon the ships thus decked a band\nOf young and lovely girls shall stand,\nRich in each charm that wakes desire,\nAnd eyes that burn with amorous fire;\nWell skilled to sing, and play, and dance\nAnd ply their trade with smile and glance\nLet these, attired in hermits\u2019 dress,\nBetake them to the wilderness,\nAnd bring the boy of life austere\nA voluntary captive here.\u201d\n  He ended; and the king agreed,\n  By the priest\u2019s counsel won.\nAnd all the ministers took heed\n  To see his bidding done.\nIn ships with wondrous art prepared\nAway the lovely women fared,\nAnd soon beneath the shade they stood\nOf the wild, lonely, dreary wood.\nAnd there the leafy cot they found\n  Where dwelt the devotee,\nAnd looked with eager eyes around\n  The hermit\u2019s son to see.\nStill, of Vibh\u00e1\u1e47dak sore afraid,\nThey hid behind the creepers\u2019 shade.\nBut when by careful watch they knew\nThe elder saint was far from view,\nWith bolder steps they ventured nigh\nTo catch the youthful hermit\u2019s eye.\nThen all the damsels, blithe and gay,\nAt various games began to play.\nThey tossed the flying ball about\nWith dance and song and merry shout,\nAnd moved, their scented tresses bound\nWith wreaths, in mazy motion round.\nSome girls as if by love possessed,\nSank to the earth in feigned unrest,\nUp starting quickly to pursue\nTheir intermitted game anew.\nIt was a lovely sight to see\n  Those fair ones, as they played,\nWhile fragrant robes were floating free,\nAnd bracelets clashing in their glee\n  A pleasant tinkling made.\nThe anklet\u2019s chime, the Ko\u00efl\u2019s(82) cry\n  With music filled the place\nAs \u2019twere some city in the sky\nWhich heavenly minstrels grace.\nWith each voluptuous art they strove\nTo win the tenant of the grove,\nAnd with their graceful forms inspire\nHis modest soul with soft desire.\nWith arch of brow, with beck and smile,\nWith every passion-waking wile\nOf glance and lotus hand,\nWith all enticements that excite\nThe longing for unknown delight\n  Which boys in vain withstand.\nForth came the hermit\u2019s son to view\nThe wondrous sight to him so new,\n  And gazed in rapt surprise,\nFor from his natal hour till then\nOn woman or the sons of men\n  He ne\u2019er had cast his eyes.\nHe saw them with their waists so slim,\nWith fairest shape and faultless limb,\nIn variegated robes arrayed,\nAnd sweetly singing as they played.\nNear and more near the hermit drew,\n  And watched them at their game,\nAnd stronger still the impulse grew\n  To question whence they came.\nThey marked the young ascetic gaze\nWith curious eye and wild amaze,\nAnd sweet the long-eyed damsels sang,\nAnd shrill their merry laughter rang.\nThen came they nearer to his side,\nAnd languishing with passion cried:\n\u201cWhose son, O youth, and who art thou,\nCome suddenly to join us now?\nAnd why dost thou all lonely dwell\nIn the wild wood? We pray thee, tell,\nWe wish to know thee, gentle youth;\nCome, tell us, if thou wilt, the truth.\u201d\n  He gazed upon that sight he ne\u2019er\nHad seen before, of girls so fair,\nAnd out of love a longing rose\nHis sire and lineage to disclose:\n\u201cMy father,\u201d thus he made reply,\n\u201cIs Ka\u015byap\u2019s son, a saint most high,\nVibh\u00e1\u1e47dak styled; from him I came,\nAnd Rishya\u015bring he calls my name.\nOur hermit cot is near this place:\nCome thither, O ye fair of face;\nThere be it mine, with honour due,\nYe gentle youths, to welcome you.\u201d\n  They heard his speech, and gave consent,\nAnd gladly to his cottage went.\nVibh\u00e1\u1e47dak\u2019s son received them well\nBeneath the shelter of his cell\nWith guest-gift, water for their feet,\nAnd woodland fruit and roots to eat,\nThey smiled, and spoke sweet words like these,\nDelighted with his courtesies:\n\u201cWe too have goodly fruit in store,\nGrown on the trees that shade our door;\nCome, if thou wilt, kind Hermit, haste\nThe produce of our grove to taste;\nAnd let, O good Ascetic, first\nThis holy water quench thy thirst.\u201d\nThey spoke, and gave him comfits sweet\nPrepared ripe fruits to counterfeit;\nAnd many a dainty cate beside\nAnd luscious mead their stores supplied.\nThe seeming fruits, in taste and look,\nThe unsuspecting hermit took,\nFor, strange to him, their form beguiled\nThe dweller in the lonely wild.\nThen round his neck fair arms were flung,\nAnd there the laughing damsels clung,\nAnd pressing nearer and more near\nWith sweet lips whispered at his ear;\nWhile rounded limb and swelling breast\nThe youthful hermit softly pressed.\nThe pleasing charm of that strange bowl,\n  The touch of a tender limb,\nOver his yielding spirit stole\n  And sweetly vanquished him.\nBut vows, they said, must now be paid;\n  They bade the boy farewell,\nAnd, of the aged saint afraid,\n  Prepared to leave the dell.\nWith ready guile they told him where\n  Their hermit dwelling lay:\nThen, lest the sire should find them there,\n  Sped by wild paths away.\nThey fled and left him there alone\n  By longing love possessed;\nAnd with a heart no more his own\n  He roamed about distressed.\nThe aged saint came home, to find\n  The hermit boy distraught,\nRevolving in his troubled mind\n  One solitary thought.\n\u201cWhy dost thou not, my son,\u201d he cried,\n  \u201cThy due obeisance pay?\nWhy do I see thee in the tide\n  Of whelming thought to-day?\nA devotee should never wear\n  A mien so sad and strange.\nCome, quickly, dearest child, declare\n  The reason of the change.\u201d\nAnd Rishya\u015bring, when questioned thus,\n  Made answer in this wise:\n\u201cO sire, there came to visit us\n  Some men with lovely eyes.\nAbout my neck soft arms they wound\n  And kept me tightly held\nTo tender breasts so soft and round,\n  That strangely heaved and swelled.\nThey sing more sweetly as they dance\n  Than e\u2019er I heard till now,\nAnd play with many a sidelong glance\n  And arching of the brow.\u201d\n\u201cMy son,\u201d said he, \u201cthus giants roam\n  Where holy hermits are,\nAnd wander round their peaceful home\n  Their rites austere to mar.\nI charge thee, thou must never lay\n  Thy trust in them, dear boy:\nThey seek thee only to betray,\n  And woo but to destroy.\u201d\nThus having warned him of his foes\n  That night at home he spent.\nAnd when the morrow\u2019s sun arose\nForth to the forest went.\n  But Rishya\u015bring with eager pace\nSped forth and hurried to the place\nWhere he those visitants had seen\nOf daintly waist and charming mien.\nWhen from afar they saw the son\nOf Saint Vibh\u00e1\u1e47dak toward them run,\nTo meet the hermit boy they hied,\nAnd hailed him with a smile, and cried:\n\u201cO come, we pray, dear lord, behold\nOur lovely home of which we told\nDue honour there to thee we\u2019ll pay,\nAnd speed thee on thy homeward way.\u201d\nPleased with the gracious words they said\nHe followed where the damsels led.\nAs with his guides his steps he bent,\n  That Br\u00e1hman high of worth,\nA flood of rain from heaven was sent\n  That gladdened all the earth.\n\n  Vibh\u00e1\u1e47dak took his homeward road,\nAnd wearied by the heavy load\nOf roots and woodland fruit he bore\nEntered at last his cottage door.\nFain for his son he looked around,\nBut desolate the cell he found.\nHe stayed not then to bathe his feet,\nThough fainting with the toil and heat,\nBut hurried forth and roamed about\nCalling the boy with cry and shout,\nHe searched the wood, but all in vain;\nNor tidings of his son could gain.\n\n  One day beyond the forest\u2019s bound\nThe wandering saint a village found,\nAnd asked the swains and neatherds there\nWho owned the land so rich and fair,\nWith all the hamlets of the plain,\nAnd herds of kine and fields of grain.\nThey listened to the hermit\u2019s words,\nAnd all the guardians of the herds,\nWith suppliant hands together pressed,\nThis answer to the saint addressed:\n\u201cThe Angas\u2019 lord who bears the name\nOf Lomap\u00e1d, renowned by fame,\nBestowed these hamlets with their kine\nAnd all their riches, as a sign\nOf grace, on Rishya\u015bring: and he\nVibh\u00e1\u1e47dak\u2019s son is said to be.\u201d\nThe hermit with exulting breast\nThe mighty will of fate confessed,\nBy meditation\u2019s eye discerned;\nAnd cheerful to his home returned.\n\n  A stately ship, at early morn,\nThe hermit\u2019s son away had borne.\nLoud roared the clouds, as on he sped,\nThe sky grew blacker overhead;\nTill, as he reached the royal town,\nA mighty flood of rain came down.\nBy the great rain the monarch\u2019s mind\nThe coming of his guest divined.\nTo meet the honoured youth he went,\nAnd low to earth his head he bent.\nWith his own priest to lead the train,\nHe gave the gift high guests obtain.\nAnd sought, with all who dwelt within\nThe city walls, his grace to win.\nHe fed him with the daintiest fare,\nHe served him with unceasing care,\nAnd ministered with anxious eyes\nLest anger in his breast should rise;\nAnd gave to be the Br\u00e1hman\u2019s bride\nHis own fair daughter, lotus-eyed.\n\n  Thus loved and honoured by the king,\nThe glorious Br\u00e1hman Rishya\u015bring\nPassed in that royal town his life\nWith \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 his beloved wife.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto X. Rishyasring Invited.\n\n\n\u201cAgain, O best of kings, give ear:\nMy saving words attentive hear,\nAnd listen to the tale of old\nBy that illustrious Br\u00e1hman told.\n\u201cOf famed Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line shall spring\n(\u2019Twas thus he spoke) a pious king,\nNamed Da\u015baratha, good and great,\nTrue to his word and fortunate.\nHe with the Angas\u2019 mighty lord\nShall ever live in sweet accord,\nAnd his a daughter fair shall be,\n\u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 of happy destiny.\nBut Lomap\u00e1d, the Angas\u2019 chief,\nStill pining in his childless grief,\nTo Da\u015baratha thus shall say:\n\u201cGive me thy daughter, friend, I pray,\nThy \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 of the tranquil mind,\nThe noblest one of womankind.\u201d\n\n  The father, swift to feel for woe,\nShall on his friend his child bestow;\nAnd he shall take her and depart\nTo his own town with joyous heart.\nThe maiden home in triumph led,\nTo Rishya\u015bring the king shall wed.\nAnd he with loving joy and pride\nShall take her for his honoured bride.\nAnd Da\u015baratha to a rite\nThat best of Br\u00e1hmans shall invite\n  With supplicating prayer,\nTo celebrate the sacrifice\nTo win him sons and Paradise,(83)\nThat he will fain prepare.\nFrom him the lord of men at length\n  The boon he seeks shall gain,\nAnd see four sons of boundless strength\n  His royal line maintain.\u201d\n\u201cThus did the godlike saint of old\n  The will of fate declare,\nAnd all that should befall unfold\n  Amid the sages there.\nO Prince supreme of men, go thou,\n  Consult thy holy guide,\nAnd win, to aid thee in thy vow,\n  This Br\u00e1hman to thy side.\u201d\nSumantra\u2019s counsel, wise and good,\n  King Da\u015baratha heard,\nThen by Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s side he stood\nAnd thus with him conferred:\n\u201cSumantra counsels thus: do thou\nMy priestly guide, the plan allow.\u201d\n  Va\u015bish\u1e6dha gave his glad consent,\nAnd forth the happy monarch went\nWith lords and servants on the road\nThat led to Rishya\u015bring\u2019s abode.\nForests and rivers duly past,\nHe reached the distant town at last\nOf Lomap\u00e1d the Angas\u2019 king,\nAnd entered it with welcoming.\nOn through the crowded streets he came,\nAnd, radiant as the kindled flame,\nHe saw within the monarch\u2019s house\nThe hermit\u2019s son most glorious.\nThere Lomap\u00e1d, with joyful breast,\n  To him all honour paid,\nFor friendship for his royal guest\n  His faithful bosom swayed.\nThus entertained with utmost care\nSeven days, or eight, he tarried there,\nAnd then that best of men thus broke\nHis purpose to the king, and spoke:\n\u201cO King of men, mine ancient friend,\n  (Thus Da\u015baratha prayed)\nThy \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 with her husband send\n  My sacrifice to aid.\u201d\nSaid he who ruled the Angas, Yea,\n  And his consent was won:\nAnd then at once he turned away\n  To warn the hermit\u2019s son.\nHe told him of their ties beyond\nTheir old affection\u2019s faithful bond:\n\u201cThis king,\u201d he said, \u201cfrom days of old\nA well beloved friend I hold.\nTo me this pearl of dames he gave\nFrom childless woe mine age to save,\nThe daughter whom he loved so much,\nMoved by compassion\u2019s gentle touch.\nIn him thy \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1s father see:\nAs I am even so is he.\nFor sons the childless monarch yearns:\nTo thee alone for help he turns.\nGo thou, the sacred rite ordain\nTo win the sons he prays to gain:\nGo, with thy wife thy succour lend,\nAnd give his vows a blissful end.\u201d\n  The hermit\u2019s son with quick accord\nObeyed the Angas\u2019 mighty lord,\nAnd with fair \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 at his side\nTo Da\u015baratha\u2019s city hied.\nEach king, with suppliant hands upheld,\n  Gazed on the other\u2019s face:\nAnd then by mutual love impelled\n  Met in a close embrace.\nThen Da\u015baratha\u2019s thoughtful care,\n  Before he parted thence,\nBade trusty servants homeward bear\n  The glad intelligence:\n\u201cLet all the town be bright and gay\n  With burning incense sweet;\nLet banners wave, and water lay\n  The dust in every street.\u201d\nGlad were the citizens to learn\nThe tidings of their lord\u2019s return,\nAnd through the city every man\nObediently his task began.\nAnd fair and bright Ayodhy\u00e1 showed,\nAs following his guest he rode\nThrough the full streets where shell and drum\nProclaimed aloud the king was come.\nAnd all the people with delight\n  Kept gazing on their king,\nAttended by that youth so bright,\n  The glorious Rishya\u015bring.\nWhen to his home the king had brought\n  The hermit\u2019s saintly son,\nHe deemed that all his task was wrought,\n  And all he prayed for won.\nAnd lords who saw that stranger dame\n  So beautiful to view,\nRejoiced within their hearts, and came\n  And paid her honour too.\nThere Rishya\u015bring passed blissful days,\nGraced like the king with love and praise\nAnd shone in glorious light with her,\nSweet \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1, for his minister,\nAs Brahm\u00e1\u2019s son Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, he\nWho wedded Saint Arundhat\u00ed.(84)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XI. The Sacrifice Decreed.\n\n\nThe Dewy Season(85) came and went;\n  The spring returned again:\nThen would the king, with mind intent,\n  His sacrifice ordain.\nHe came to Rishya\u015bring, and bowed\n  To him of look divine,\nAnd bade him aid his offering vowed\n  For heirs, to save his line.\nNor would the youth his aid deny:\n  He spake the monarch fair,\nAnd prayed him for that rite so high\n  All requisites prepare.\nThe king to wise Sumantra cried\n  Who stood aye ready near;\n\u201cGo summon quick each holy guide,\n  To counsel and to hear.\u201d\nObedient to his lord\u2019s behest\n  Away Sumantra sped,\nAnd brought Va\u015bish\u1e6dha and the rest,\n  In Scripture deeply read.\nSuyaj\u01f9a, V\u00e1madeva came,\n  J\u00e1vali, Ka\u015byap\u2019s son,\nAnd old Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, dear to fame,\n  Obedient every one.\nKing Da\u015baratha met them there\n  And duly honoured each,\nAnd spoke in pleasant words his fair\n  And salutary speech:\n\u201cIn childless longing doomed to pine,\nNo happiness, O lords, is mine.\nSo have I for this cause decreed\nTo slay the sacrificial steed.\nFain would I pay that offering high\nWherein the horse is doomed to die,\nWith Rishya\u015bring his aid to lend,\nAnd with your glory to befriend.\u201d\n  With loud applause each holy man\nReceived his speech, approved the plan,\nAnd, by the wise Va\u015bish\u1e6dha led,\nGave praises to the king, and said:\n\u201cThe sons thou cravest shalt thou see,\nOf fairest glory, born to thee,\nWhose holy feelings bid thee take\nThis righteous course for offspring\u2019s sake.\u201d\nCheered by the ready praise of those\nWhose aid he sought, his spirits rose,\nAnd thus the king his speech renewed\nWith looks of joy and gratitude:\n\u201cLet what the coming rites require\nBe ready as the priests desire,\nAnd let the horse, ordained to bleed,\nWith fitting guard and priest, be freed,(86)\nYonder on Sarj\u00fa\u2019s northern side\nThe sacrificial ground provide;\nAnd let the saving rites, that naught\nIll-omened may occur, be wrought.\nThe offering I announce to-day\nEach lord of earth may claim to pay,\nProvided that his care can guard\nThe holy rite by flaws unmarred.\nFor wandering fiends, whose watchful spite\nWaits eagerly to spoil each rite,\nHunting with keenest eye detect\nThe slightest slip, the least neglect;\nAnd when the sacred work is crossed\nThe workman is that moment lost.\nLet preparation due be made:\n  Your powers the charge can meet:\nThat so the noble rite be paid\n  In every point complete.\u201d\nAnd all the Br\u00e1hmans answered, Yea,\n  His mandate honouring,\nAnd gladly promised to obey\n  The order of the king.\nThey cried with voices raised aloud:\n  \u201cSuccess attend thine aim!\u201d\nThen bade farewell, and lowly bowed,\n  And hastened whence they came.\nKing Da\u015baratha went within,\n  His well loved wives to see:\nAnd said: \u201cYour lustral rites begin,\n  For these shall prosper me.\nA glorious offering I prepare\nThat precious fruit of sons may bear.\u201d\nTheir lily faces brightened fast\n  Those pleasant words to hear,\nAs lilies, when the winter\u2019s past,\nIn lovelier hues appear.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XII. The Sacrifice Begun.\n\n\nAgain the spring with genial heat\nReturning made the year complete.\nTo win him sons, without delay\nHis vow the king resolved to pay:\nAnd to Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, saintly man,\nIn modest words this speech began:\n\u201cPrepare the rite with all things fit\nAs is ordained in Holy Writ,\nAnd keep with utmost care afar\nWhate\u2019er its sacred forms might mar.\nThou art, my lord, my trustiest guide,\nKind-hearted, and my friend beside;\nSo is it meet thou undertake\nThis heavy task for duty\u2019s sake.\u201d\n  Then he, of twice-born men the best,\nHis glad assent at once expressed:\n\u201cFain will I do whate\u2019er may be\nDesired, O honoured King, by thee.\u201d\nTo ancient priests he spoke, who, trained\nIn holy rites, deep skill had gained:\n\u201cHere guards be stationed, good and sage\nReligious men of trusted age.\nAnd various workmen send and call,\nWho frame the door and build the wall:\nWith men of every art and trade,\nWho read the stars and ply the spade,\nAnd mimes and minstrels hither bring,\nAnd damsels trained to dance and sing.\u201d\n  Then to the learned men he said,\nIn many a page of Scripture read:\n\u201cBe yours each rite performed to see\nAccording to the king\u2019s decree.\nAnd stranger Br\u00e1hmans quickly call\nTo this great rite that welcomes all.\nPavilions for the princes, decked\nWith art and ornament, erect,\nAnd handsome booths by thousands made\nThe Br\u00e1hman visitors to shade,\nArranged in order side by side,\nWith meat and drink and all supplied.\nAnd ample stables we shall need\nFor many an elephant and steed:\nAnd chambers where the men may lie,\nAnd vast apartments, broad and high,\nFit to receive the countless bands\nOf warriors come from distant lands.\nFor our own people too provide\nSufficient tents, extended wide,\nAnd stores of meat and drink prepare,\nAnd all that can be needed there.\nAnd food in plenty must be found\nFor guests from all the country round.\nOf various viands presents make,\nFor honour, not for pity\u2019s sake,\nThat fit regard and worship be\nPaid to each caste in due degree.\nAnd let not wish or wrath excite\nYour hearts the meanest guest to slight;\nBut still observe with special grace\nThose who obtain the foremost place,\nWhether for happier skill in art\nOr bearing in the rite their part.\nDo you, I pray, with friendly mind\nPerform the task to you assigned,\nAnd work the rite, as bids the law,\nWithout omission, slip, or flaw\u201d\n  They answered: \u201cAs thou seest fit\nSo will we do and naught omit.\u201d\nThe sage Va\u015bi\u1e63\u1e6dha then addressed\nSumantra called at his behest:\n\u201cThe princes of the earth invite,\nAnd famous lords who guard the rite,\nPriest, Warrior, Merchant, lowly thrall,\nIn countless thousands summon all.\nWhere\u2019er their home be, far or near,\nGather the good with honour here,\nAnd Janak, whose imperial sway\nThe men of M\u00edthil\u00e1(87) obey.\nThe firm of vow, the dread of foes,\nWho all the lore of Scripture knows,\nInvite him here with honour high,\nKing Da\u015baratha\u2019s old ally.\nAnd K\u00e1\u015bi\u2019s(88) lord of gentle speech,\nWho finds a pleasant word for each,\nIn length of days our monarch\u2019s peer,\nIllustrious king, invite him here.\nThe father of our ruler\u2019s bride,\nKnown for his virtues far and wide,\nThe king whom Kekaya\u2019s(89) realms obey,\nHim with his son invite, I pray.\nAnd Lomap\u00e1d the Angas\u2019 king,\nTrue to his vows and godlike, bring.\nFor be thine invitations sent\nTo west and south and orient.\nCall those who rule Sur\u00e1sh\u1e6dra\u2019s(90) land,\nSuv\u00edra\u2019s(91) realm and Sindhu\u2019s strand,\nAnd all the kings of earth beside\nIn friendship\u2019s bonds with us allied:\nInvite them all to hasten in\nWith retinue and kith and kin.\u201d\n  Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s speech without delay\nSumantra bent him to obey.\nAnd sent his trusty envoys forth\nEastward and westward, south and north.\nObedient to the saint\u2019s request\nHimself he hurried forth, and pressed\nEach nobler chief and lord and king\nTo hasten to the gathering.\nBefore the saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha stood\nAll those who wrought with stone and wood,\nAnd showed the work which every one\nIn furtherance of the rite had done,\nRejoiced their ready zeal to see,\nThus to the craftsmen all said he:\n\u201cI charge ye, masters, see to this,\nThat there be nothing done amiss,\nAnd this, I pray, in mind be borne,\nThat not one gift ye give in scorn:\nWhenever scorn a gift attends\nGreat sin is his who thus offends.\u201d\n  And now some days and nights had past,\nAnd kings began to gather fast,\nAnd precious gems in liberal store\nAs gifts to Da\u015baratha bore.\nThen joy thrilled through Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s breast\nAs thus the monarch he addressed:\n\u201cObedient to thy high decree\nThe kings, my lord, are come to thee.\nAnd it has been my care to greet\nAnd honour all with reverence meet.\nThy servants\u2019 task is ended quite,\nAnd all is ready for the rite.\nCome forth then to the sacred ground\nWhere all in order will be found.\u201d\nThen Rishya\u015bring confirmed the tale:\nNor did their words to move him fail.\nThe stars propitious influence lent\nWhen forth the world\u2019s great ruler went.\n  Then by the sage Va\u015bish\u1e6dha led\n    The priest begun to speed\n  Those glorious rites wherein is shed\n    The lifeblood of the steed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished.\n\n\nThe circling year had filled its course,\nAnd back was brought the wandering horse:\nThen upon Sarj\u00fa\u2019s northern strand\nBegan the rite the king had planned.\nWith Rishya\u015bring the forms to guide,\nThe Br\u00e1hmans to their task applied,\nAt that great offering of the steed\nTheir lofty-minded king decreed.\nThe priests, who all the Scripture knew,\nPerformed their part in order due,\nAnd circled round in solemn train\nAs precepts of the law ordain.\nPravargya rites(92) were duly sped:\nFor Upasads(93) the flames were fed.\nThen from the plant(94) the juice was squeezed,\nAnd those high saints with minds well pleased\nPerformed the mystic rites begun\nWith bathing ere the rise of sun\nThey gave the portion Indra\u2019s claim,\nAnd hymned the King whom none can blame.\nThe mid-day bathing followed next,\nObserved as bids the holy text.\nThen the good priests with utmost care,\nIn form that Scripture\u2019s rules declare,\nFor the third time pure water shed\nOn high souled Da\u015baratha\u2019s head.\nThen Rishya\u015bring and all the rest\nTo Indra and the Gods addressed\nTheir sweet-toned hymn of praise and prayer,\nAnd called them in the rite to share.\nWith sweetest song and hymn entoned\nThey gave the Gods in heaven enthroned,\nAs duty bids, the gifts they claim,\nThe holy oil that feeds the flame.\nAnd many an offering there was paid,\nAnd not one slip in all was made.\nFor with most careful heed they saw\nThat all was done by Veda law.\nNone, all those days, was seen oppressed\nBy hunger or by toil distressed.\nWhy speak of human kind? No beast\nWas there that lacked an ample feast.\nFor there was store for all who came,\nFor orphan child and lonely dame;\nThe old and young were well supplied,\nThe poor and hungry satisfied.\nThroughout the day ascetics fed,\nAnd those who roam to beg their bread:\nWhile all around the cry was still,\n\u201cGive forth, give forth,\u201d and \u201cEat your fill.\u201d\n\u201cGive forth with liberal hand the meal,\nAnd various robes in largess deal.\u201d\nUrged by these cries on every side\nUnweariedly their task they plied:\nAnd heaps of food like hills in size\nIn boundless plenty met the eyes:\nAnd lakes of sauce, each day renewed,\nRefreshed the weary multitude.\nAnd strangers there from distant lands,\nAnd women folk in crowded bands\nThe best of food and drink obtained\nAt the great rite the king ordained.\nApart from all, the Br\u00e1hmans there,\nThousands on thousands, took their share\nOf various dainties sweet to taste,\nOn plates of gold and silver placed,\nAll ready set, as, when they willed,\nThe twice-born men their places filled.\nAnd servants in fair garments dressed\nWaited upon each Br\u00e1hman guest.\nOf cheerful mind and mien were they,\nWith gold and jewelled earrings gay.\nThe best of Br\u00e1hmans praised the fare\nOf countless sorts, of flavour rare:\nAnd thus to Raghu\u2019s son they cried:\n\u201cWe bless thee, and are satisfied.\u201d\nBetween the rites some Br\u00e1hmans spent\nThe time in learned argument,\nWith ready flow of speech, sedate,\nAnd keen to vanquish in debate.(95)\n  There day by day the holy train\nPerformed all rites as rules ordain.\nNo priest in all that host was found\nBut kept the vows that held him bound:\nNone, but the holy Vedas knew,\nAnd all their six-fold science(96) too.\nNo Br\u00e1hman there was found unfit\nTo speak with eloquence and wit.\n  And now the appointed time came near\nThe sacrificial posts to rear.\nThey brought them, and prepared to fix\nOf Bel(97) and Kh\u00e1dir(98) six and six;\nSix, made of the Pal\u00e1\u015ba(99) tree,\nOf Fig-wood one, apart to be:\nOf Sleshm\u00e1t(100) and of Devad\u00e1r(101)\nOne column each, the mightiest far:\nSo thick the two, the arms of man\nTheir ample girth would fail to span.\nAll these with utmost care were wrought\nBy hand of priests in Scripture taught,\nAnd all with gold were gilded bright\nTo add new splendour to the rite:\nTwenty-and-one those stakes in all,\nEach one-and-twenty cubits tall:\nAnd one-and-twenty ribbons there\nHung on the pillars, bright and fair.\nFirm in the earth they stood at last,\nWhere cunning craftsmen fixed them fast;\nAnd there unshaken each remained,\nOctagonal and smoothly planed.\nThen ribbons over all were hung,\nAnd flowers and scent around them flung.\nThus decked they cast a glory forth\nLike the great saints who star the north.(102)\nThe sacrificial altar then\nWas raised by skilful twice-born men,\nIn shape and figure to behold\nAn eagle with his wings of gold,\nWith twice nine pits and formed three-fold\nEach for some special God, beside\nThe pillars were the victims tied;\nThe birds that roam the wood, the air,\nThe water, and the land were there,\nAnd snakes and things of reptile birth,\nAnd healing herbs that spring from earth:\nAs texts prescribe, in Scripture found,\nThree hundred victims there were bound.\nThe steed devoted to the host\nOf Gods, the gem they honour most,\nWas duly sprinkled. Then the Queen\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, with delighted mien,\nWith reverent steps around him paced,\nAnd with sweet wreaths the victim graced;\nThen with three swords in order due\nShe smote the steed with joy, and slew.\nThat night the queen, a son to gain,\nWith calm and steady heart was fain\nBy the dead charger\u2019s side to stay\nFrom evening till the break of day.\nThen came three priests, their care to lead\nThe other queens to touch the steed,\nUpon Kau\u015baly\u00e1 to attend,\nTheir company and aid to lend.\nAs by the horse she still reclined,\nWith happy mien and cheerful mind,\nWith Rishya\u015bring the twice-born came\nAnd praised and blessed the royal dame.\nThe priest who well his duty knew,\nAnd every sense could well subdue,\nFrom out the bony chambers freed\nAnd boiled the marrow of the steed.\nAbove the steam the monarch bent,\nAnd, as he smelt the fragrant scent,\nIn time and order drove afar\nAll error that his hopes could mar.\nThen sixteen priests together came\nAnd cast into the sacred flame\nThe severed members of the horse,\nMade ready all in ordered course.\nOn piles of holy Fig-tree raised\nThe meaner victims\u2019 bodies blazed:\nThe steed, of all the creatures slain,\nAlone required a pile of cane.\nThree days, as is by law decreed,\nLasted that Offering of the Steed.\nThe Chatush\u1e6dom began the rite,\nAnd when the sun renewed his light,\nThe Ukthya followed: after came\nThe Atir\u00e1tra\u2019s holy flame.\nThese were the rites, and many more\nArranged by light of holy lore,\nThe Aptory\u00e1m of mighty power,\nAnd, each performed in proper hour,\nThe Abhijit and Vi\u015bvajit\nWith every form and service fit;\nAnd with the sacrifice at night\nThe Jyotish\u1e6dom and \u00c1yus rite.(103)\n  The task was done, as laws prescribe:\nThe monarch, glory of his tribe,\nBestowed the land in liberal grants\nUpon the sacred ministrants.\nHe gave the region of the east,\nHis conquest, to the Hotri priest.\nThe west, the celebrant obtained:\nThe south, the priest presiding gained:\nThe northern region was the share\nOf him who chanted forth the prayer,(104)\nThus did each priest obtain his meed\nAt the great Slaughter of the Steed,\nOrdained, the best of all to be,\nBy self-existent deity.\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son with joyful mind\nThis noble fee to each assigned,\nBut all the priests with one accord\nAddressed that unpolluted lord:\n\u201cTis thine alone to keep the whole\nOf this broad earth in firm control.\nNo gift of lands from thee we seek:\nTo guard these realms our hands were weak.\nOn sacred lore our days are spent:\nLet other gifts our wants content.\u201d\n\n  The chief of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line\nGave them ten hundred thousand kine,\nA hundred millions of fine gold,\nThe same in silver four times told.\nBut every priest in presence there\nWith one accord resigned his share.\nTo Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, high of soul,\nAnd Rishya\u015bring they gave the whole.\nThat largess pleased those Br\u00e1hmans well,\nWho bade the prince his wishes tell.\nThen Da\u015baratha, mighty king,\nMade answer thus to Rishya\u015bring:\n\u201cO holy Hermit, of thy grace,\nVouchsafe the increase of my race.\u201d\nHe spoke; nor was his prayer denied:\nThe best of Br\u00e1hmans thus replied:\n\u201cFour sons, O Monarch, shall be thine,\nUpholders of thy royal line.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIV. R\u00e1van Doomed.\n\n\n  The saint, well read in holy lore,\nPondered awhile his answer o\u2019er,\nAnd thus again addressed the king,\nHis wandering thoughts regathering:\n\u201cAnother rite will I begin\nWhich shall the sons thou cravest win,\nWhere all things shall be duly sped\nAnd first Atharva texts be read.\u201d\n\n  Then by Vibh\u00e1\u1e47dak\u2019s gentle son\nWas that high sacrifice begun,\nThe king\u2019s advantage seeking still\nAnd zealous to perform his will.\nNow all the Gods had gathered there,\nEach one for his allotted share:\nBrahm\u00e1, the ruler of the sky,\nSth\u00e1\u1e47u, N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47, Lord most high,\nAnd holy Indra men might view\nWith Maruts(105) for his retinue;\nThe heavenly chorister, and saint,\nAnd spirit pure from earthly taint,\nWith one accord had sought the place\nThe high-souled monarch\u2019s rite to grace.\nThen to the Gods who came to take\nTheir proper share the hermit spake:\n\u201cFor you has Da\u015baratha slain\nThe votive steed, a son to gain;\nStern penance-rites the king has tried,\nAnd in firm faith on you relied,\nAnd now with undiminished care\nA second rite would fain prepare.\nBut, O ye Gods, consent to grant\nThe longing of your supplicant.\nFor him beseeching hands I lift,\nAnd pray you all to grant the gift,\nThat four fair sons of high renown\nThe offerings of the king may crown.\u201d\nThey to the hermit\u2019s son replied:\n\u201cHis longing shall be gratified.\nFor, Br\u00e1hman, in most high degree\nWe love the king and honour thee.\u201d\n\n  These words the Gods in answer said,\nAnd vanished thence by Indra led.\nThus to the Lord, the worlds who made,\nThe Immortals all assembled prayed:\n\u201cO Brahm\u00e1, mighty by thy grace,\nR\u00e1va\u1e47, who rules the giant race,\nTorments us in his senseless pride,\nAnd penance-loving saints beside.\nFor thou well pleased in days of old\nGavest the boon that makes him bold,\nThat God nor demon e\u2019er should kill\nHis charmed life, for so thy will.\nWe, honouring that high behest,\nBear all his rage though sore distressed.\nThat lord of giants fierce and fell\nScourges the earth and heaven and hell.\nMad with thy boon, his impious rage\nSmites saint and bard and God and sage.\nThe sun himself withholds his glow,\nThe wind in fear forbears to blow;\nThe fire restrains his wonted heat\nWhere stand the dreaded R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s feet,\nAnd, necklaced with the wandering wave,\nThe sea before him fears to rave.\nKuvera\u2019s self in sad defeat\nIs driven from his blissful seat.\nWe see, we feel the giant\u2019s might,\nAnd woe comes o\u2019er us and affright.\nTo thee, O Lord, thy suppliants pray\nTo find some cure this plague to stay.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the gathered Gods addressed\nHe pondered in his secret breast,\nAnd said: \u201cOne only way I find\nTo slay this fiend of evil mind.\nHe prayed me once his life to guard\nFrom demon, God, and heavenly bard,\nAnd spirits of the earth and air,\nAnd I consenting heard his prayer.\nBut the proud giant in his scorn\nRecked not of man of woman born.\nNone else may take his life away,\nBut only man the fiend may slay.\u201d\nThe Gods, with Indra at their head,\nRejoiced to hear the words he said.\nThen crowned with glory like a flame,\nLord Vish\u1e47u to the council came;\nHis hands shell, mace, and discus bore,\nAnd saffron were the robes he wore.\nRiding his eagle through the crowd,\nAs the sun rides upon a cloud,\nWith bracelets of fine gold, he came\nLoud welcomed by the Gods\u2019 acclaim.\nHis praise they sang with one consent,\nAnd cried, in lowly reverence bent:\n\u201cO Lord whose hand fierce Madhu(106) slew,\nBe thou our refuge, firm and true;\nFriend of the suffering worlds art thou,\nWe pray thee help thy suppliants now.\u201d\nThen Vish\u1e47u spake: \u201cYe Gods, declare,\nWhat may I do to grant your prayer?\u201d\n\n  \u201cKing Da\u015baratha,\u201d thus cried they,\n\u201cFervent in penance many a day,\nThe sacrificial steed has slain,\nLonging for sons, but all in vain.\nNow, at the cry of us forlorn,\nIncarnate as his seed be born.\nThree queens has he: each lovely dame\nLike Beauty, Modesty, or Fame.\nDivide thyself in four, and be\nHis offspring by these noble three.\nMan\u2019s nature take, and slay in fight\nR\u00e1va\u1e47 who laughs at heavenly might:\nThis common scourge, this rankling thorn\nWhom the three worlds too long have borne\nFor R\u00e1va\u1e47 in the senseless pride\nOf might unequalled has defied\nThe host of heaven, and plagues with woe\nAngel and bard and saint below,\nCrushing each spirit and each maid\nWho plays in Nandan\u2019s(107) heavenly shade.\nO conquering Lord, to thee we bow;\nOur surest hope and trust art thou.\nRegard the world of men below,\nAnd slay the Gods\u2019 tremendous foe.\u201d\n\n  When thus the suppliant Gods had prayed,\nHis wise reply N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47(108) made:\n\u201cWhat task demands my presence there,\nAnd whence this dread, ye Gods declare.\u201d\n\n  The Gods replied: \u201cWe fear, O Lord,\nFierce R\u00e1va\u1e47, ravener abhorred.\nBe thine the glorious task, we pray,\nIn human form this fiend to slay.\nBy thee of all the Blest alone\nThis sinner may be overthrown.\nHe gained by penance long and dire\nThe favour of the mighty Sire.\nThen He who every gift bestows\nGuarded the fiend from heavenly foes,\nAnd gave a pledge his life that kept\nFrom all things living, man except.\nOn him thus armed no other foe\nThan man may deal the deadly blow.\nAssume, O King, a mortal birth,\nAnd strike the demon to the earth.\u201d\n\n  Then Vish\u1e47u, God of Gods, the Lord\nSupreme by all the worlds adored,\nTo Brahm\u00e1 and the suppliants spake:\n\u201cDismiss your fear: for your dear sake\nIn battle will I smite him dead,\nThe cruel fiend, the Immortal\u2019s dread.\nAnd lords and ministers and all\nHis kith and kin with him shall fall.\nThen, in the world of mortal men,\nTen thousand years and hundreds ten\nI as a human king will reign,\nAnd guard the earth as my domain.\u201d\n\n  God, saint, and nymph, and minstrel throng\nWith heavenly voices raised their song\nIn hymns of triumph to the God\nWhose conquering feet on Madhu trod:\n  \u201cChampion of Gods, as man appear,\n    This cruel R\u00e1va\u1e47 slay,\n  The thorn that saints and hermits fear,\n    The plague that none can stay.\n  In savage fury uncontrolled\n    His pride for ever grows:\n  He dares the Lord of Gods to hold\n    Among his deadly foes.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XV. The Nectar.\n\n\nWhen wisest Vish\u1e47u thus had given\nHis promise to the Gods of heaven,\nHe pondered in his secret mind\nA suited place of birth to find,\nThen he decreed, the lotus-eyed,\nIn four his being to divide,\nAnd Da\u015baratha, gracious king,\nHe chose as sire from whom to spring.\nThat childless prince of high renown,\nWho smote in war his foemen down,\nAt that same time with utmost care\nPrepared the rite that wins an heir.(109)\nThen Vish\u1e47u, fain on earth to dwell,\nBade the Almighty Sire farewell,\nAnd vanished while a reverent crowd\nOf Gods and saints in worship bowed.\n\n  The monarch watched the sacred rite,\nWhen a vast form of awful might,\nOf matchless splendour, strength, and size\nWas manifest before his eyes.\nFrom forth the sacrificial flame,\nDark, robed in red, the being came.\nHis voice was drumlike, loud and low,\nHis face suffused with rosy glow.\nLike a huge lion\u2019s mane appeared\nThe long locks of his hair and beard.\nHe shone with many a lucky sign,\nAnd many an ornament divine;\nA towering mountain in his height,\nA tiger in his gait and might.\nNo precious mine more rich could be,\nNo burning flame more bright than he.\nHis arms embraced in loving hold,\nLike a dear wife, a vase of gold\nWhose silver lining held a draught\nOf nectar as in heaven is quaffed:\nA vase so vast, so bright to view,\nThey scarce could count the vision true.\nUpon the king his eyes he bent,\nAnd said: \u201cThe Lord of life has sent\nHis servant down, O Prince, to be\nA messenger from heaven to thee.\u201d\nThe king with all his nobles by\nRaised reverent hands and made reply:\n\u201cWelcome, O glorious being! Say\nHow can my care thy grace repay.\u201d\nEnvoy of Him whom all adore\nThus to the king he spake once more:\n\u201cThe Gods accept thy worship: they\nGive thee the blessed fruit to-day.\nApproach and take, O glorious King,\nThis heavenly nectar which I bring,\nFor it shall give thee sons and wealth,\nAnd bless thee with a store of health.\nGive it to those fair queens of thine,\nAnd bid them quaff the drink divine:\nAnd they the princely sons shall bear\nLong sought by sacrifice and prayer.\u201d\n\n  \u201cYea, O my lord,\u201d the monarch said,\nAnd took the vase upon his head,\nThe gift of Gods, of fine gold wrought,\nWith store of heavenly liquor fraught.\nHe honoured, filled with transport new,\nThat wondrous being, fair to view,\nAs round the envoy of the God\nWith reverential steps he trod.(110)\nHis errand done, that form of light\nArose and vanished from the sight.\nHigh rapture filled the monarch\u2019s soul,\nPossessed of that celestial bowl,\nAs when a man by want distressed\nWith unexpected wealth is blest.\nAnd rays of transport seemed to fall\nIlluminating bower and hall,\nAs when the autumn moon rides high,\nAnd floods with lovely light the sky.\nQuick to the ladies\u2019 bower he sped,\nAnd thus to Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 said:\n\u201cThis genial nectar take and quaff,\u201d\nHe spoke, and gave the lady half.\nPart of the nectar that remained\nSumitr\u00e1 from his hand obtained.\nHe gave, to make her fruitful too,\nKaikey\u00ed half the residue.\nA portion yet remaining there,\n  He paused awhile to think.\nThen gave Sumitr\u00e1, with her share.\n  The remnant of the drink.\nThus on each queen of those fair three\n  A part the king bestowed,\nAnd with sweet hope a child to see\n  Their yearning bosoms glowed.\nThe heavenly bowl the king supplied\n  Their longing souls relieved,\nAnd soon, with rapture and with pride,\n  Each royal dame conceived.\nHe gazed upon each lady\u2019s face,\n  And triumphed as he gazed,\nAs Indra in his royal place\n  By Gods and spirits praised.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVI. The V\u00e1nars.\n\n\nWhen Vish\u1e47u thus had gone on earth,\nFrom the great king to take his birth,\nThe self-existent Lord of all\nAddressed the Gods who heard his call:\n\u201cFor Vish\u1e47u\u2019s sake, the strong and true,\nWho seeks the good of all of you,\nMake helps, in war to lend him aid,\nIn forms that change at will, arrayed,\nOf wizard skill and hero might,\nOutstrippers of the wind in flight,\nSkilled in the arts of counsel, wise,\nAnd Vish\u1e47u\u2019s peers in bold emprise;\nWith heavenly arts and prudence fraught,\nBy no devices to be caught;\nSkilled in all weapon\u2019s lore and use\nAs they who drink the immortal juice.(111)\nAnd let the nymphs supreme in grace,\nAnd maidens of the minstrel race,\nMonkeys and snakes, and those who rove\nFree spirits of the hill and grove,\nAnd wandering Daughters of the Air,\nIn monkey form brave children bear.\nSo erst the lord of bears I shaped,\nBorn from my mouth as wide I gaped.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the mighty Sire addressed\nThey all obeyed his high behest,\nAnd thus begot in countless swarms\nBrave sons disguised in sylvan forms.\nEach God, each sage became a sire,\nEach minstrel of the heavenly quire,(112)\nEach faun,(113) of children strong and good\nWhose feet should roam the hill and wood.\nSnakes, bards,(114) and spirits,(115) serpents bold\nHad sons too numerous to be told.\nB\u00e1li, the woodland hosts who led,\nHigh as Mahendra\u2019s(116) lofty head,\nWas Indra\u2019s child. That noblest fire,\nThe Sun, was great Sugr\u00edva\u2019s sire,\nT\u00e1ra, the mighty monkey, he\nWas offspring of V\u1e5bihaspati:(117)\nT\u00e1ra the matchless chieftain, boast\nFor wisdom of the V\u00e1nar host.\nOf Gandham\u00e1dan brave and bold\nThe father was the Lord of Gold.\nNala the mighty, dear to fame,\nOf skilful Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1(118) came.\nFrom Agni,(119) Nila bright as flame,\nWho in his splendour, might, and worth,\nSurpassed the sire who gave him birth.\nThe heavenly A\u015bvins,(120) swift and fair,\nWere fathers of a noble pair,\nWho, Dwivida and Mainda named,\nFor beauty like their sires were famed,\nVaru\u1e47(121) was father of Sushe\u1e47,\nOf Sarabh, he who sends the rain,(122)\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n, best of monkey kind,\nWas son of him who breathes the wind:\nLike thunderbolt in frame was he,\nAnd swift as Garu\u1e0d\u2019s(123) self could flee.\nThese thousands did the Gods create\nEndowed with might that none could mate,\nIn monkey forms that changed at will;\nSo strong their wish the fiend to kill.\nIn mountain size, like lions thewed,\nUp sprang the wondrous multitude,\nAuxiliar hosts in every shape,\nMonkey and bear and highland ape.\nIn each the strength, the might, the mien\nOf his own parent God were seen.\nSome chiefs of V\u00e1nar mothers came,\nSome of she-bear and minstrel dame,\nSkilled in all arms in battle\u2019s shock;\nThe brandished tree, the loosened rock;\nAnd prompt, should other weapons fail,\nTo fight and slay with tooth and nail.\nTheir strength could shake the hills amain,\nAnd rend the rooted trees in twain,\nDisturb with their impetuous sweep\nThe Rivers\u2019 Lord, the Ocean deep,\nRend with their feet the seated ground,\nAnd pass wide floods with airy bound,\nOr forcing through the sky their way\nThe very clouds by force could stay.\nMad elephants that wander through\nThe forest wilds, could they subdue,\nAnd with their furious shout could scare\nDead upon earth the birds of air.\nSo were the sylvan chieftains formed;\nThousands on thousands still they swarmed.\nThese were the leaders honoured most,\nThe captains of the V\u00e1nar host,\nAnd to each lord and chief and guide\nWas monkey offspring born beside.\nThen by the bears\u2019 great monarch stood\nThe other roamers of the wood,\nAnd turned, their pathless homes to seek,\nTo forest and to mountain peak.\nThe leaders of the monkey band\nBy the two brothers took their stand,\nSugr\u00edva, offspring of the Sun\nAnd B\u00e1li, Indra\u2019s mighty one.\nThey both endowed with Garu\u1e0d\u2019s might,\nAnd skilled in all the arts of fight,\nWandered in arms the forest through,\nAnd lions, snakes, and tigers, slew.\nBut every monkey, ape, and bear\nEver was B\u00e1li\u2019s special care;\nWith his vast strength and mighty arm\nHe kept them from all scathe and harm.\nAnd so the earth with hill, wood, seas,\nWas filled with mighty ones like these,\nOf various shape and race and kind,\nWith proper homes to each assigned,\nWith R\u00e1ma\u2019s champions fierce and strong\n  The earth was overspread,\nHigh as the hills and clouds, a throng\n  With bodies vast and dread.(124)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVII. Rishyasring\u2019s Return.\n\n\nNow when the high-souled monarch\u2019s rite,\nThe A\u015bvamedh, was finished quite,\nTheir sacrificial dues obtained,\nThe Gods their heavenly homes regained.\nThe lofty-minded saints withdrew,\nEach to his place, with honour due,\nAnd kings and chieftains, one and all,\nWho came to grace the festival.\nAnd Da\u015baratha, ere they went,\nAddressed them thus benevolent:\n\u201cNow may you, each with joyful heart,\nTo your own realms, O Kings, depart.\nPeace and good luck attend you there,\nAnd blessing, is my friendly prayer;\nLet cares of state each mind engage\nTo guard his royal heritage.\nA monarch from his throne expelled\nNo better than the dead is held.\nSo he who cares for power and might\nMust guard his realm and royal right.\nSuch care a meed in heaven will bring\nBetter than rites and offering.\nSuch care a king his country owes\nAs man upon himself bestows,\nWhen for his body he provides\nRaiment and every need besides.\nFor future days should kings foresee,\nAnd keep the present error-free.\u201d\n\n  Thus did the king the kings exhort:\nThey heard, and turned them from the court\nAnd, each to each in friendship bound,\nWent forth to all the realms around.\nThe rites were o\u2019er, the guests were sped:\nThe train the best of Br\u00e1hmans led,\nIn which the king with joyful soul,\nWith his dear wives, and with the whole\nOf his imperial host and train\nOf cars and servants turned again,\nAnd, as a monarch dear to fame,\nWithin his royal city came.\n\n  Next, Rishya\u015bring, well-honoured sage,\nAnd \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1, sought their hermitage.\nThe king himself, of prudent mind,\nAttended him, with troops behind.\nAnd all her men the town outpoured\nWith Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha and their lord.\nHigh mounted on a car of state,\nO\u2019er canopied fair \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 sate.\nDrawn by white oxen, while a band\nOf servants marched on either hand.\nGreat gifts of countless price she bore,\nWith sheep and goats and gems in store.\nLike Beauty\u2019s self the lady shone\nWith all the jewels she had on,\nAs, happy in her sweet content,\nPeerless amid the fair she went.\nNot Queen Paulom\u00ed\u2019s(125) self could be\nMore loving to her lord than she.\nShe who had lived in happy ease,\nHonoured with all her heart could please,\nWhile dames and kinsfolk ever vied\nTo see her wishes gratified,\nSoon as she knew her husband\u2019s will\nAgain to seek the forest, still\nWas ready for the hermit\u2019s cot,\nNor murmured at her altered lot.\nThe king attended to the wild\nThat hermit and his own dear child,\nAnd in the centre of a throng\nOf noble courtiers rode along.\nThe sage\u2019s son had let prepare\nA lodge within the wood, and there\nWhile they lingered blithe and gay.\nThen, duly honoured, went their way.\nThe glorious hermit Rishya\u015bring\nDrew near and thus besought the king:\n\n  \u201cReturn, my honoured lord, I pray,\nReturn, upon thy homeward way.\u201d\nThe monarch, with the waiting crowd,\nLifted his voice and wept aloud,\nAnd with eyes dripping still to each\nOf his good queens he spake this speech:\n\n  \u201cKau\u015baly\u00e1 and Sumitr\u00e1 dear,\nAnd thou, my sweet Kaikey\u00ed, hear.\nAll upon \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 feast your gaze,\nThe last time for a length of days.\u201d\nTo \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1\u2019s arms the ladies leapt,\nAnd hung about her neck and wept,\nAnd cried, \u201cO, happy be the life\nOf this great Br\u00e1hman and his wife.\nThe Wind, the Fire, the Moon on high,\nThe Earth, the Streams, the circling Sky,\nPreserve thee in the wood, true spouse,\nDevoted to thy husband\u2019s vows.\nAnd O dear \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1, ne\u2019er neglect\nTo pay the dues of meek respect\nTo the great saint, thy husband\u2019s sire,\nWith all observance and with fire.\nAnd, sweet one, pure of spot and blame,\nForget not thou thy husband\u2019s claim;\nIn every change, in good and ill,\nLet thy sweet words delight him still,\nAnd let thy worship constant be:\nHer lord is woman\u2019s deity.\nTo learn thy welfare, dearest friend,\nThe king will many a Br\u00e1hman send.\nLet happy thoughts thy spirit cheer,\nAnd be not troubled, daughter dear.\u201d\n\n  These soothing words the ladies said.\nAnd pressed their lips upon her head.\nEach gave with sighs her last adieu,\nThen at the king\u2019s command withdrew.\nThe king around the hermit went\nWith circling footsteps reverent,\nAnd placed at Rishya\u015bring\u2019s command\nSome soldiers of his royal band.\nThe Br\u00e1hman bowed in turn and cried,\n\u201cMay fortune never leave thy side.\nO mighty King, with justice reign,\nAnd still thy people\u2019s love retain.\u201d\nHe spoke, and turned away his face,\n  And, as the hermit went,\nThe monarch, rooted to the place,\n  Pursued with eyes intent.\nBut when the sage had past from view\nKing Da\u015baratha turned him too,\nStill fixing on his friend each thought.\nWith such deep love his breast was fraught.\nAmid his people\u2019s loud acclaim\nHome to his royal seat he came,\n  And lived delighted there,\nExpecting when each queenly dame,\nUpholder of his ancient fame,\n  Her promised son should bear.\nThe glorious sage his way pursued\nTill close before his eyes he viewed\nSweet Champ\u00e1, Lomap\u00e1d\u2019s fair town,\nWreathed with her Champacs\u2019(126) leafy crown.\nSoon as the saint\u2019s approach he knew,\nThe king, to yield him honour due,\nWent forth to meet him with a band\nOf priests and nobles of the land:\n\u201cHail, Sage,\u201d he cried, \u201cO joy to me!\nWhat bliss it is, my lord, to see\nThee with thy wife and all thy train\nReturning to my town again.\nThy father, honoured Sage, is well,\nWho hither from his woodland cell\nHas sent full many a messenger\nFor tidings both of thee and her.\u201d\nThen joyfully, for due respect,\nThe monarch bade the town be decked.\nThe king and Rishya\u015bring elate\nEntered the royal city\u2019s gate:\n  In front the chaplain rode.\nThen, loved and honoured with all care\nBy monarch and by courtier, there\n  The glorious saint abode.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVIII. Rishyasring\u2019s Departure.\n\n\nThe monarch called a Br\u00e1hman near\n  And said, \u201cNow speed away\nTo Ka\u015byap\u2019s son,(127) the mighty seer,\n  And with all reverence say\nThe holy child he holds so dear,\nThe hermit of the noble mind,\nWhose equal it were hard to find,\n  Returned, is dwelling here.\nGo, and instead of me do thou\nBefore that best of hermits bow,\nThat still he may, for his dear son,\nShow me the favour I have won.\u201d\nSoon as the king these words had said,\nTo Ka\u015byap\u2019s son the Br\u00e1hman sped.\nBefore the hermit low he bent\nAnd did obeisance, reverent;\nThen with meek words his grace to crave\nThe message of his lord he gave:\n\u201cThe high-souled father of his bride\nHad called thy son his rites to guide:\nThose rites are o\u2019er, the steed is slain;\nThy noble child is come again.\u201d\n\n  Soon as the saint that speech had heard\nHis spirit with desire was stirred\nTo seek the city of the king\nAnd to his cot his son to bring.\nWith young disciples at his side\nForth on his way the hermit hied,\nWhile peasants from their hamlets ran\nTo reverence the holy man.\nEach with his little gift of food,\nForth came the village multitude,\nAnd, as they humbly bowed the head,\n\u201cWhat may we do for thee?\u201d they said.\nThen he, of Br\u00e1hmans first and best,\nThe gathered people thus addressed:\n\u201cNow tell me for I fain would know,\nWhy is it I am honoured so?\u201d\nThey to the high-souled saint replied:\n\u201cOur ruler is with thee allied.\nOur master\u2019s order we fulfil;\nO Br\u00e1hman, let thy mind be still.\u201d\n\n  With joy the saintly hermit heard\nEach pleasant and delightful word,\nAnd poured a benediction down\nOn king and ministers and town.\nGlad at the words of that high saint\nSome servants hastened to acquaint\nTheir king, rejoicing to impart\nThe tidings that would cheer his heart.\nSoon as the joyful tale he knew\nTo meet the saint the monarch flew,\nThe guest-gift in his hand he brought,\nAnd bowed before him and besought:\n\u201cThis day by seeing thee I gain\nNot to have lived my life in vain,\nNow be not wroth with me, I pray,\n\u201cBecause I wiled thy son away.(128)\n\n  The best of Br\u00e1hmans answer made:\n\u201cBe not, great lord of kings, afraid.\nThy virtues have not failed to win\nMy favour, O thou pure of sin.\u201d\nThen in the front the saint was placed,\nThe king came next in joyous haste,\nAnd with him entered his abode,\nMid glad acclaim as on they rode.\nTo greet the sage the reverent crowd\nRaised suppliant hands and humbly bowed.\nThen from the palace many a dame\nFollowing well-dressed \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 came,\nStood by the mighty saint and cried:\n\u201cSee, honour\u2019s source, thy son\u2019s dear bride.\u201d\nThe saint, who every virtue knew,\nHis arms around his daughter threw,\nAnd with a father\u2019s rapture pressed\nThe lady to his wondering breast.\nArising from the saint\u2019s embrace\nShe bowed her low before his face,\nAnd then, with palm to palm applied,\nStood by her hermit father\u2019s side.\nHe for his son, as laws ordain,\nPerformed the rite that frees from stain,(129)\nAnd, honoured by the wise and good,\nWith him departed to the wood.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIX. The Birth Of The Princes.\n\n\nThe seasons six in rapid flight\nHad circled since that glorious rite.\nEleven months had passed away;\n\u2019Twas Chaitra\u2019s ninth returning day.(130)\nThe moon within that mansion shone\nWhich Aditi looks kindly on.\nRaised to their apex in the sky\nFive brilliant planets beamed on high.\nShone with the moon, in Cancer\u2019s sign,\nV\u1e5bihaspati(131) with light divine.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 bore an infant blest\nWith heavenly marks of grace impressed;\nR\u00e1ma, the universe\u2019s lord,\nA prince by all the worlds adored.\nNew glory Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 won\nReflected from her splendid son.\nSo Aditi shone more and more,\nThe Mother of the Gods, when she\nThe King of the Immortals(132) bore,\nThe thunder-wielding deity.\nThe lotus-eyed, the beauteous boy,\nHe came fierce R\u00e1va\u1e47 to destroy;\nFrom half of Vish\u1e47u\u2019s vigour born,\nHe came to help the worlds forlorn.\nAnd Queen Kaikey\u00ed bore a child\nOf truest valour, Bharat styled,\nWith every princely virtue blest,\nOne fourth of Vish\u1e47u manifest.\nSumitr\u00e1 too a noble pair,\nCalled Lakshma\u1e47 and \u015aatrughna, bare,\nOf high emprise, devoted, true,\nSharers in Vish\u1e47u\u2019s essence too.\n\u2019Neath Pushya\u2019s(133) mansion, Mina\u2019s(134) sign,\nWas Bharat born, of soul benign.\nThe sun had reached the Crab at morn\nWhen Queen Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s babes were born,\nWhat time the moon had gone to make\nHis nightly dwelling with the Snake.\nThe high-souled monarch\u2019s consorts bore\nAt different times those glorious four,\nLike to himself and virtuous, bright\nAs Prosh\u1e6dhapad\u00e1\u2019s(135) four-fold light.\nThen danced the nymphs\u2019 celestial throng,\n  The minstrels raised their strain;\nThe drums of heaven pealed loud and long,\n  And flowers came down in rain.\nWithin Ayodhy\u00e1, blithe and gay,\nAll kept the joyous holiday.\nThe spacious square, the ample road\nWith mimes and dancers overflowed,\nAnd with the voice of music rang\nWhere minstrels played and singers sang,\nAnd shone, a wonder to behold,\nWith dazzling show of gems and gold.\nNor did the king his largess spare,\nFor minstrel, driver, bard, to share;\nMuch wealth the Br\u00e1hmans bore away,\nAnd many thousand dine that day.\n\n  Soon as each babe was twelve days old\n\u2019Twas time the naming rite to hold.\nWhen Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, rapt with joy,\nAssigned a name to every boy.\nR\u00e1ma, to him the high-souled heir,\nBharat, to him Kaikey\u00ed bare:\nOf Queen Sumitr\u00e1 one fair son\nWas Lakshma\u1e47, and \u015aatrughna(136) one\nR\u00e1ma, his sire\u2019s supreme delight,\nLike some proud banner cheered his sight,\nAnd to all creatures seemed to be\nThe self-existent deity.\nAll heroes, versed in holy lore,\nTo all mankind great love they bore.\nFair stores of wisdom all possessed,\nWith princely graces all were blest.\nBut mid those youths of high descent,\nWith lordly light pre\u00ebminent.\nLike the full moon unclouded, shone\nR\u00e1ma, the world\u2019s dear paragon.\nHe best the elephant could guide.(137)\nUrge the fleet car, the charger ride:\nA master he of bowman\u2019s skill,\nJoying to do his father\u2019s will.\nThe world\u2019s delight and darling, he\nLoved Lakshma\u1e47 best from infancy\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, lord of lofty fate,\nUpon his elder joyed to wait,\nStriving his second self to please\nWith friendship\u2019s sweet observances.\nHis limbs the hero ne\u2019er would rest\nUnless the couch his brother pressed;\nExcept beloved R\u00e1ma shared\nHe could not taste the meal prepared.\nWhen R\u00e1ma, pride of Reghu\u2019s race,\nSprang on his steed to urge the chase,\nBehind him Lakshma\u1e47 loved to go\nAnd guard him with his trusty bow.\nAs R\u00e1ma was to Lakshma\u1e47 dear\nMore than his life and ever near,\nSo fond \u015aatrughna prized above\nHis very life his Bharat\u2019s love.\nIllustrious heroes, nobly kind\nIn mutual love they all combined,\nAnd gave their royal sire delight\nWith modest grace and warrior might:\nSupported by the glorious four\nShone Da\u015baratha more and more,\n  As though, with every guardian God\n    Who keeps the land and skies,\n  The Father of all creatures trod\n    The earth before men\u2019s eyes.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XX. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Visit.\n\n\nNow Da\u015baratha\u2019s pious mind\nMeet wedlock for his sons designed;\nWith priests and friends the king began\nTo counsel and prepare his plan.\nSuch thoughts engaged his bosom, when,\nTo see Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s lord of men,\nA mighty saint of glorious fame,\nThe hermit Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra(138) came.\nFor evil fiends that roam by night\nDisturbed him in each holy rite,\nAnd in their strength and frantic rage\nAssailed with witcheries the sage.\nHe came to seek the monarch\u2019s aid\nTo guard the rites the demons stayed,\nUnable to a close to bring\nOne unpolluted offering.\nSeeking the king in this dire strait\nHe said to those who kept the gate:\n\u201cHaste, warders, to your master run,\nAnd say that here stands G\u00e1dhi\u2019s son.\u201d\n\n  Soon as they heard the holy man,\nTo the king\u2019s chamber swift they ran\nWith minds disordered all, and spurred\nTo wildest zeal by what they heard.\nOn to the royal hall they sped,\nThere stood and lowly bowed the head,\nAnd made the lord of men aware\nThat the great saint was waiting there.\n  The king with priest and peer arose\nAnd ran the sage to meet,\n  As Indra from his palace goes\nLord Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self to greet.\nWhen glowing with celestial light\nThe pious hermit was in sight,\nThe king, whose mien his transport showed,\nThe honoured gift for guests bestowed.\nNor did the saint that gift despise,\nOffered as holy texts advise;\nHe kindly asked the earth\u2019s great king\nHow all with him was prospering.\nThe son of Ku\u015bik(139) bade him tell\nIf all in town and field were well,\nAll well with friends, and kith and kin,\nAnd royal treasure stored within:\n  \u201cDo all thy neighbours own thy sway?\n    Thy foes confess thee yet?\n  Dost thou continue still to pay\n    To Gods and men each debt?\u201d\nThen he, of hermits first and best,\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha with a smile(140) addressed,\nAnd asked him of his welfare too,\nShowing him honour as was due.\nThen with the sainted hermit all\nWent joyous to the monarch\u2019s hall,\nAnd sate them down by due degree,\nEach one, of rank and dignity.\nJoy filled the noble prince\u2019s breast\nWho thus bespoke the honoured guest:\n\u201cAs amrit(141) by a mortal found,\nAs rain upon the thirsty ground,\nAs to an heirless man a son\nBorn to him of his precious one,\nAs gain of what we sorely miss,\nAs sudden dawn of mighty bliss,\nSo is thy coming here to me:\nAll welcome, mighty Saint, to thee.\nWhat wish within thy heart hast thou?\nIf I can please thee, tell me how.\nHail, Saint, from whom all honours flow,\nWorthy of all I can bestow.\nBlest is my birth with fruit to-day,\nNor has my life been thrown away.\nI see the best of Br\u00e1hman race\nAnd night to glorious morn gives place.\nThou, holy Sage, in days of old\nAmong the royal saints enrolled,\nDidst, penance-glorified, within\nThe Br\u00e1hman caste high station win.\n\u2019Tis meet and right in many a way\nThat I to thee should honour pay.\nThis seems a marvel to mine eyes:\nAll sin thy visit purifies;\nAnd I by seeing thee, O Sage,\nHave reaped the fruit of pilgrimage.\nThen say what thou wouldst have me do,\nThat thou hast sought this interview.\nFavoured by thee, my wish is still,\nO Hermit, to perform thy will.\nNor needest thou at length explain\nThe object that thy heart would gain.\nWithout reserve I grant it now:\nMy deity, O Lord, art thou.\u201d\n\n  The glorious hermit, far renowned,\nWith highest fame and virtue crowned,\nRejoiced these modest words to hear\nDelightful to the mind and ear.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXI. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThe hermit heard with high content\nThat speech so wondrous eloquent,\nAnd while each hair with joy arose,(142)\nHe thus made answer at the close:\n\u201cGood is thy speech O noble King,\nAnd like thyself in everything.\nSo should their lips be wisdom-fraught\nWhom kings begot, Va\u015bish\u1e6dha taught.\nThe favour which I came to seek\nThou grantest ere my tongue can speak.\nBut let my tale attention claim,\nAnd hear the need for which I came.\nO King, as Scripture texts allow,\nA holy rite employs me now.\nTwo fiends who change their forms at will\nImpede that rite with cursed skill.(143)\nOft when the task is nigh complete,\nThese worst of fiends my toil defeat,\nThrow bits of bleeding flesh, and o\u2019er\nThe altar shed a stream of gore.\nWhen thus the rite is mocked and stayed,\nAnd all my pious hopes delayed,\nCast down in heart the spot I leave,\nAnd spent with fruitless labour grieve.\nNor can I, checked by prudence, dare\nLet loose my fury on them there:\nThe muttered curse, the threatening word,\nIn such a rite must ne\u2019er be heard.\nThy grace the rite from check can free.\nAnd yield the fruit I long to see.\nThy duty bids thee, King, defend\nThe suffering guest, the suppliant friend.\nGive me thy son, thine eldest born,\nWhom locks like raven\u2019s wings adorn.\nThat hero youth, the truly brave,\nOf thee, O glorious King, I crave.\nFor he can lay those demons low\nWho mar my rites and work me woe:\nMy power shall shield the youth from harm,\nAnd heavenly might shall nerve his arm.\nAnd on my champion will I shower\nUnnumbered gifts of varied power,\nSuch gifts as shall ensure his fame\nAnd spread through all the worlds his name.\nBe sure those fiends can never stand\nBefore the might of R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand,\nAnd mid the best and bravest none\nCan slay that pair but Raghu\u2019s son.\nEntangled in the toils of Fate\nThose sinners, proud and obstinate,\nAre, in their fury overbold,\nNo match for R\u00e1ma mighty-souled.\nNor let a father\u2019s breast give way\nToo far to fond affection\u2019s sway.\nCount thou the fiends already slain:\nMy word is pledged, nor pledged in vain.\nI know the hero R\u00e1ma well\nIn whom high thoughts and valour dwell;\nSo does Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, so do these\nEngaged in long austerities.\nIf thou would do the righteous deed,\nAnd win high fame, thy virtue\u2019s meed,\nFame that on earth shall last and live,\nTo me, great King, thy R\u00e1ma give.\nIf to the words that I have said,\nWith Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha at their head\nThy holy men, O King, agree,\nThen let thy R\u00e1ma go with me.\nTen nights my sacrifice will last,\nAnd ere the stated time be past\nThose wicked fiends, those impious twain,\nMust fall by wondrous R\u00e1ma slain.\nLet not the hours, I warn thee, fly,\nFixt for the rite, unheeded by;\nGood luck have thou, O royal Chief,\nNor give thy heart to needless grief.\u201d\n\n  Thus in fair words with virtue fraught\nThe pious glorious saint besought.\nBut the good speech with poignant sting\nPierced ear and bosom of the king,\nWho, stabbed with pangs too sharp to bear,\nFell prostrate and lay fainting there.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXII. Dasaratha\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nHis tortured senses all astray,\nWhile the hapless monarch lay,\nThen slowly gathering thought and strength\nTo Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra spoke at length:\n\u201cMy son is but a child, I ween;\nThis year he will be just sixteen.\nHow is he fit for such emprise,\nMy darling with the lotus eyes?\nA mighty army will I bring\nThat calls me master, lord, and king,\nAnd with its countless squadrons fight\nAgainst these rovers of the night.\nMy faithful heroes skilled to wield\nThe arms of war will take the field;\nTheir skill the demons\u2019 might may break:\nR\u00e1ma, my child, thou must not take.\nI, even I, my bow in hand,\nWill in the van of battle stand,\nAnd, while my soul is left alive,\nWith the night-roaming demons strive.\nThy guarded sacrifice shall be\nCompleted, from all hindrance free.\nThither will I my journey make:\nR\u00e1ma, my child, thou must not take.\nA boy unskilled, he knows not yet\nThe bounds to strength and weakness set.\nNo match is he for demon foes\nWho magic arts to arms oppose.\nO chief of saints, I have no power,\nOf R\u00e1ma reft, to live one hour:\nMine aged heart at once would break:\nR\u00e1ma, my child, thou must not take.\nNine thousand circling years have fled\nWith all their seasons o\u2019er my head,\nAnd as a hard-won boon, O sage,\nThese sons have come to cheer mine age.\nMy dearest love amid the four\nIs he whom first his mother bore,\nStill dearer for his virtues\u2019 sake:\nR\u00e1ma, my child, thou must not take.\nBut if, unmoved by all I say,\nThou needs must bear my son away,\nLet me lead with him, I entreat,\nA four-fold army(144) all complete.\nWhat is the demons\u2019 might, O Sage?\nWho are they? What their parentage?\nWhat is their size? What beings lend\nTheir power to guard them and befriend?\nHow can my son their arts withstand?\nOr I or all my armed band?\nTell me the whole that I may know\nTo meet in war each evil foe\nWhom conscious might inspires with pride.\u201d\n\n  And Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra thus replied:\n\u201cSprung from Pulastya\u2019s race there came\nA giant known by R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s name.\nOnce favoured by the Eternal Sire\nHe plagues the worlds in ceaseless ire,\nFor peerless power and might renowned,\nBy giant bands encompassed round.\nVi\u015bravas for his sire they hold,\nHis brother is the Lord of Gold.\nKing of the giant hosts is he,\nAnd worst of all in cruelty.\nThis R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s dread commands impel\nTwo demons who in might excel,\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha and Suv\u00e1hu hight,\nTo trouble and impede the rite.\u201d\n\n  Then thus the king addressed the sage:\n\u201cNo power have I, my lord, to wage\nWar with this evil-minded foe;\nNow pity on my darling show,\nAnd upon me of hapless fate,\nFor thee as God I venerate.\nGods, spirits, bards of heavenly birth,(145)\nThe birds of air, the snakes of earth\nBefore the might of R\u00e1va\u1e47 quail,\nMuch less can mortal man avail.\nHe draws, I hear, from out the breast\nThe valour of the mightiest.\nNo, ne\u2019er can I with him contend,\nOr with the forces he may send.\nHow can I then my darling lend,\nGodlike, unskilled in battle? No,\nI will not let my young child go.\nFoes of thy rite, those mighty ones,\nSunda and Upasunda\u2019s sons,\nAre fierce as Fate to overthrow:\nI will not let my young child go.\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha and Suv\u00e1hu fell\nAre valiant and instructed well.\nOne of the twain I might attack.\nWith all my friends their lord to back.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIII. Vasishtha\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nWhile thus the hapless monarch spoke,\nPaternal love his utterance broke.\nThen words like these the saint returned,\nAnd fury in his bosom burned:\n\u201cDidst thou, O King, a promise make,\nAnd wishest now thy word to break?\nA son of Raghu\u2019s line should scorn\nTo fail in faith, a man forsworn.\nBut if thy soul can bear the shame\nI will return e\u2019en as I came.\nLive with thy sons, and joy be thine,\nFalse scion of Kakutstha\u2019s line.\u201d\n\n  As Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, mighty sage,\nWas moved with this tempestuous rage,\nEarth rocked and reeled throughout her frame,\nAnd fear upon the Immortals came.\nBut Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, wisest seer,\nObservant of his vows austere,\nSaw the whole world convulsed with dread,\nAnd thus unto the monarch said:\n\u201cThou, born of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s seed,\nArt Justice\u2019 self in mortal weed.\nConstant and pious, blest by fate,\nThe right thou must not violate.\nThou, Raghu\u2019s son, so famous through\nThe triple world as just and true,\nPerform thy bounden duty still,\nNor stain thy race by deed of ill.\nIf thou have sworn and now refuse\nThou must thy store of merit lose.\nThen, Monarch, let thy R\u00e1ma go,\nNor fear for him the demon foe.\nThe fiends shall have no power to hurt\nHim trained to war or inexpert,\nNor vanquish him in battle field,\nFor Ku\u015bik\u2019s son the youth will shield.\nHe is incarnate Justice, he\nThe best of men for bravery.\nEmbodied love of penance drear,\nAmong the wise without a peer.\nFull well he knows, great Ku\u015bik\u2019s son,\nThe arms celestial, every one,\nArms from the Gods themselves concealed,\nFar less to other men revealed.\nThese arms to him, when earth he swayed,\nMighty Kri\u015b\u00e1\u015bva, pleased, conveyed.\nKri\u015b\u00e1\u015bva\u2019s sons they are indeed,\nBrought forth by Daksha\u2019s lovely seed,(146)\nHeralds of conquest, strong and bold,\nBrilliant, of semblance manifold.\nJay\u00e1 and Vijay\u00e1, most fair,\nAnd hundred splendid weapons bare.\nOf Jay\u00e1, glorious as the morn,\nFirst fifty noble sons were born,\nBoundless in size yet viewless too,\nThey came the demons to subdue.\nAnd fifty children also came\nOf Vijay\u00e1 the beauteous dame,\nSanh\u00e1ras named, of mighty force,\nHard to assail or check in course.\nOf these the hermit knows the use,\nAnd weapons new can he produce.\nAll these the mighty saint will yield\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand, to own and wield;\nAnd armed with these, beyond a doubt\nShall R\u00e1ma put those fiends to rout.\nFor R\u00e1ma and the people\u2019s sake,\nFor thine own good my counsel take,\nNor seek, O King, with fond delay,\nThe parting of thy son to stay.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIV. The Spells.\n\n\n  Va\u015bish\u1e6dha thus was speaking still:\nThe monarch, of his own free will,\nBade with quick zeal and joyful cheer\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 hasten near.\nMother and sire in loving care\nSped their dear son with rite and prayer:\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha blessed him ere he went;\nO\u2019er his loved head the father bent,\nAnd then to Ku\u015bik\u2019s son resigned\nR\u00e1ma with Lakshma\u1e47 close behind.\nStanding by Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s side,\nThe youthful hero, lotus-eyed,\nThe Wind-God saw, and sent a breeze\nWhose sweet pure touch just waved the trees.\nThere fell from heaven a flowery rain,\nAnd with the song and dance the strain\nOf shell and tambour sweetly blent\nAs forth the son of Raghu went.\nThe hermit led: behind him came\nThe bow-armed R\u00e1ma, dear to fame,\nWhose locks were like the raven\u2019s wing:(147)\nThen Lakshma\u1e47, closely following.\nThe Gods and Indra, filled with joy,\nLooked down upon the royal boy,\nAnd much they longed the death to see\nOf their ten-headed enemy.(148)\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 paced behind\nThat hermit of the lofty mind,\nAs the young A\u015bvins,(149) heavenly pair,\nFollow Lord Indra through the air.\nOn arm and hand the guard they wore,\nQuiver and bow and sword they bore;\nTwo fire-born Gods of War seemed they.(150)\nHe, \u015aiva\u2019s self who led the way.\n\n  Upon fair Sarj\u00fa\u2019s southern shore\nThey now had walked a league and more,\nWhen thus the sage in accents mild\nTo R\u00e1ma said: \u201cBeloved child,\nThis lustral water duly touch:\nMy counsel will avail thee much.\nForget not all the words I say,\nNor let the occasion slip away.\nLo, with two spells I thee invest,\nThe mighty and the mightiest.\nO\u2019er thee fatigue shall ne\u2019er prevail,\nNor age or change thy limbs assail.\nThee powers of darkness ne\u2019er shall smite\nIn tranquil sleep or wild delight.\nNo one is there in all the land\nThine equal for the vigorous hand.\nThou, when thy lips pronounce the spell,\nShalt have no peer in heaven or hell.\nNone in the world with thee shall vie,\nO sinless one, in apt reply,\nIn fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact,\nWisdom to plan and skill to act.\nThis double science take, and gain\nGlory that shall for aye remain.\nWisdom and judgment spring from each\nOf these fair spells whose use I teach.\nHunger and thirst unknown to thee,\nHigh in the worlds thy rank shall be.\nFor these two spells with might endued,\nAre the Great Father\u2019s heavenly brood,\nAnd thee, O Chief, may fitly grace,\nThou glory of Kakutstha\u2019s race.\nVirtues which none can match are thine,\nLord, from thy birth, of gifts divine,\nAnd now these spells of might shall cast\nFresh radiance o\u2019er the gifts thou hast.\u201d\nThen R\u00e1ma duly touched the wave,\n  Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head,\nAnd took the spells the hermit gave,\n  Whose soul on contemplation fed.\nFrom him whose might these gifts enhanced,\nA brighter beam of glory glanced:\nSo shines in all his autumn blaze\nThe Day-God of the thousand rays.\nThe hermit\u2019s wants those youths supplied,\nAs pupils use to holy guide.\nAnd then the night in sweet content\nOn Sarj\u00fa\u2019s pleasant bank they spent.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love.\n\n\nSoon as appeared the morning light\nUp rose the mighty anchorite,\nAnd thus to youthful R\u00e1ma said,\nWho lay upon his leafy bed:\n\u201cHigh fate is hers who calls thee son:\n  Arise, \u2019tis break of day;\nRise, Chief, and let those rites be done\n  Due at the morning\u2019s ray.\u201d(151)\nAt that great sage\u2019s high behest\n  Up sprang the princely pair,\nTo bathing rites themselves addressed,\n  And breathed the holiest prayer.\nTheir morning task completed, they\n  To Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra came\nThat store of holy works, to pay\n  The worship saints may claim.\nThen to the hallowed spot they went\n  Along fair Sarj\u00fa\u2019s side\nWhere mix her waters confluent\n  With three-pathed Gang\u00e1\u2019s tide.(152)\nThere was a sacred hermitage\n  Where saints devout of mind\nTheir lives through many a lengthened age\n  To penance had resigned.\nThat pure abode the princes eyed\n  With unrestrained delight,\nAnd thus unto the saint they cried,\n  Rejoicing at the sight:\n\u201cWhose is that hermitage we see?\n  Who makes his dwelling there?\nFull of desire to hear are we:\n  O Saint, the truth declare.\u201d\nThe hermit smiling made reply\n  To the two boys\u2019 request:\n\u201cHear, R\u00e1ma, who in days gone by\n  This calm retreat possessed.\nKandarpa in apparent form,\n  Called K\u00e1ma(153) by the wise,\nDared Um\u00e1\u2019s(154) new-wed lord to storm\n  And make the God his prize.\n\u2019Gainst Sth\u00e1\u1e47u\u2019s(155) self, on rites austere\n  And vows intent,(156) they say,\nHis bold rash hand he dared to rear,\n  Though Sth\u00e1\u1e47u cried, Away!\nBut the God\u2019s eye with scornful glare\n  Fell terrible on him.\nDissolved the shape that was so fair\n  And burnt up every limb.\nSince the great God\u2019s terrific rage\n  Destroyed his form and frame,\nK\u00e1ma in each succeeding age\n  Has borne Ananga\u2019s(157) name.\nSo, where his lovely form decayed,\n  This land is Anga styled:\nSacred to him of old this shade,\n  And hermits undefiled.\nHere Scripture-talking elders sway\n  Each sense with firm control,\nAnd penance-rites have washed away\n  All sin from every soul.\nOne night, fair boy, we here will spend,\n  A pure stream on each hand,\nAnd with to-morrow\u2019s light will bend\n  Our steps to yonder strand.\nHere let us bathe, and free from stain\n  To that pure grove repair,\nSacred to K\u00e1ma, and remain\n  One night in comfort there.\u201d\nWith penance\u2019 far-discerning eye\n  The saintly men beheld\nTheir coming, and with transport high\n  Each holy bosom swelled.\nTo Ku\u015bik\u2019s son the gift they gave\n  That honoured guest should greet,\nWater they brought his feet to lave,\n  And showed him honor meet.\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 next obtained\n  In due degree their share.\nThen with sweet talk the guests remained,\n  And charmed each listener there.\nThe evening prayers were duly said\n  With voices calm and low:\nThen on the ground each laid his head\n  And slept till morning\u2019s glow.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVI. The Forest Of T\u00e1dak\u00e1.\n\n\nWhen the fair light of morning rose\nThe princely tamers of their foes\nFollowed, his morning worship o\u2019er,\nThe hermit to the river\u2019s shore.\nThe high-souled men with thoughtful care\nA pretty barge had stationed there.\nAll cried, \u201cO lord, this barge ascend,\nAnd with thy princely followers bend\nTo yonder side thy prosperous way\nWith naught to check thee or delay.\u201d\n\n  Nor did the saint their rede reject:\nHe bade farewell with due respect,\nAnd crossed, attended by the twain,\nThat river rushing to the main.\nWhen now the bark was half way o\u2019er,\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 heard the roar,\nThat louder grew and louder yet,\nOf waves by dashing waters met.\nThen R\u00e1ma asked the mighty seer:\n\u201cWhat is the tumult that I hear\nOf waters cleft in mid career?\u201d\nSoon as the speech of R\u00e1ma, stirred\nBy deep desire to know, he heard,\nThe pious saint began to tell\nWhat paused the waters\u2019 roar and swell:\n\u201cOn high Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s distant hill\n  There lies a noble lake\nWhose waters, born from Brahm\u00e1\u2019s will,\n  The name of M\u00e1nas(158) take.\nThence, hallowing where\u2019er they flow,\n  The streams of Sarj\u00fa fall,\nAnd wandering through the plains below\n  Embrace Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s wall.\nStill, still preserved in Sarj\u00fa\u2019s name\n  Sarovar\u2019s(159) fame we trace.\nThe flood of Brahma whence she came\n  To run her holy race.\nTo meet great Gang\u00e1 here she hies\n  With tributary wave:\nHence the loud roar ye hear arise,\n  Of floods that swell and rave.\nHere, pride of Raghu\u2019s line, do thou\nIn humble adoration bow.\u201d\n\n  He spoke. The princes both obeyed,\nAnd reverence to each river paid.(160)\nThey reached the southern shore at last,\nAnd gaily on their journey passed.\nA little space beyond there stood\nA gloomy awe-inspiring wood.\nThe monarch\u2019s noble son began\nTo question thus the holy man:\n\u201cWhose gloomy forest meets mine eye\nLike some vast cloud that fills the sky?\nPathless and dark it seems to be,\nWhere birds in thousands wander free;\nWhere shrill cicadas\u2019 cries resound,\nAnd fowl of dismal note abound.\nLion, rhinoceros, and bear,\nBoar, tiger, elephant, are there,\n  There shrubs and thorns run wild:\nDh\u00e1o, S\u00e1l, Bignonia, Bel,(161) are found,\nAnd every tree that grows on ground.\n  How is the forest styled?\u201d\nThe glorious saint this answer made:\n\u201cDear child of Raghu, hear\nWho dwells within the horrid shade\n  That looks so dark and drear.\nWhere now is wood, long ere this day\n  Two broad and fertile lands,\nMalaja and Kar\u00fasha lay,\n  Adorned by heavenly hands.\nHere, mourning friendship\u2019s broken ties,\nLord Indra of the thousand eyes\nHungered and sorrowed many a day,\nHis brightness soiled with mud and clay,\nWhen in a storm of passion he\nHad slain his dear friend Namuchi.\nThen came the Gods and saints who bore\nTheir golden pitchers brimming o\u2019er\nWith holy streams that banish stain,\nAnd bathed Lord Indra pure again.\nWhen in this land the God was freed\nFrom spot and stain of impious deed\nFor that his own dear friend he slew,\nHigh transport thrilled his bosom through.\nThen in his joy the lands he blessed,\nAnd gave a boon they long possessed:\n\u201cBecause these fertile lands retain\nThe washings of the blot and stain,\u201d\n  \u2019Twas thus Lord Indra sware,\n\u201cMalaja and Kar\u00fasha\u2019s name\nShall celebrate with deathless fame\n  My malady and care.\u201d(162)\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d all the Immortals cried,\n  When Indra\u2019s speech they heard,\nAnd with acclaim they ratified\n  The names his lips conferred.\nLong time, O victor of thy foes,\nThese happy lands had sweet repose,\nAnd higher still in fortune rose.\nAt length a spirit, loving ill,\nT\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1, wearing shapes at will,\nWhose mighty strength, exceeding vast,\nA thousand elephants, surpassed,\nWas to fierce Sunda, lord and head\nOf all the demon armies, wed.\nFrom her, Lord Indra\u2019s peer in might\nGiant M\u00e1r\u00edcha sprang to light:\nAnd she, a constant plague and pest,\nThese two fair realms has long distressed.\nNow dwelling in her dark abode\nA league away she bars the road:\nAnd we, O R\u00e1ma, hence must go\nWhere lies the forest of the foe.\nNow on thine own right arm rely,\n  And my command obey:\nSmite the foul monster that she die,\n  And take the plague away.\nTo reach this country none may dare\n  Fallen from its old estate,\nWhich she, whose fury naught can bear,\n  Has left so desolate.\nAnd now my truthful tale is told\n  How with accursed sway\nThe spirit plagued this wood of old,\n  And ceases not to-day.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVII. The Birth Of T\u00e1dak\u00e1.\n\n\nWhen thus the sage without a peer\nHad closed that story strange to hear,\nR\u00e1ma again the saint addressed\nTo set one lingering doubt at rest:\n\u201cO holy man, \u2019tis said by all\nThat spirits\u2019 strength is weak and small:\nHow can she match, of power so slight,\nA thousand elephants in might?\u201d\nAnd Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra thus replied\nTo Raghu\u2019s son the glorified:\n\u201cListen, and I will tell thee how\nShe gained the strength that arms her now.\nA mighty spirit lived of yore;\nSuketu was the name he bore.\nChildless was he, and free from crime\nIn rites austere he passed his time.\nThe mighty Sire was pleased to show\nHis favour, and a child bestow.\nT\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1 named, most fair to see,\nA pearl among the maids was she,\nAnd matched, for such was Brahm\u00e1\u2019s dower,\nA thousand elephants in power.\nNor would the Eternal Sire, although\nThe spirit longed, a son bestow\nThat maid in beauty\u2019s youthful pride\nWas given to Sunda for a bride.\nHer son, M\u00e1r\u00edcha was his name,\nA giant, through a curse, became.\nShe, widowed, dared with him molest\nAgastya,(163) of all saints the best.\nInflamed with hunger\u2019s wildest rage,\nRoaring she rushed upon the sage.\nWhen the great hermit saw her near,\nOn speeding in her fierce career,\nHe thus pronounced M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s doom:\n\u201cA giant\u2019s form and shape assume.\u201d\nAnd then, by mighty anger swayed,\nOn T\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1 this curse he laid:\n\u201cThy present form and semblance quit,\nAnd wear a shape thy mood to fit;\nChanged form and feature by my ban,\nA fearful thing that feeds on man.\u201d\n\n  She, by his awful curse possessed,\nAnd mad with rage that fills her breast,\nHas on this land her fury dealt\nWhere once the saint Agastya dwelt.\nGo, R\u00e1ma, smite this monster dead,\nThe wicked plague, of power so dread,\nAnd further by this deed of thine\nThe good of Br\u00e1hmans and of kine.\nThy hand alone can overthrow,\nIn all the worlds, this impious foe.\nNor let compassion lead thy mind\nTo shrink from blood of womankind;\nA monarch\u2019s son must ever count\nThe people\u2019s welfare paramount,\nAnd whether pain or joy he deal\nDare all things for his subjects\u2019 weal;\nYea, if the deed bring praise or guilt,\nIf life be saved or blood be spilt:\nSuch, through all time, should be the care\nOf those a kingdom\u2019s weight who bear.\nSlay, R\u00e1ma, slay this impious fiend,\nFor by no law her life is screened.\nSo Manthar\u00e1, as bards have told,\nVirochan\u2019s child, was slain of old\nBy Indra, when in furious hate\nShe longed the earth to devastate.\nSo K\u00e1vya\u2019s mother, Bhrigu\u2019s wife,\nWho loved her husband as her life,\nWhen Indra\u2019s throne she sought to gain,\nBy Vish\u1e47u\u2019s hand of yore was slain.\nBy these and high-souled kings beside,\nStruck down, have lawless women died.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVIII. The Death Of T\u00e1dak\u00e1.\n\n\nThus spoke the saint. Each vigorous word\nThe noble monarch\u2019s offspring heard,\nAnd, reverent hands together laid,\nHis answer to the hermit made:\n\u201cMy sire and mother bade me aye\nThy word, O mighty Saint, obey\nSo will I, O most glorious, kill\nThis T\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1 who joys in ill,\nFor such my sire\u2019s, and such thy will.\nTo aid with mine avenging hand\nThe Br\u00e1hmans, kine, and all the land,\nObedient, heart and soul, I stand.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the tamer of the foe,\nAnd by the middle grasped his bow.\nStrongly he drew the sounding string\nThat made the distant welkin ring.\nScared by the mighty clang the deer\nThat roamed the forest shook with fear,\nAnd T\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1 the echo heard,\nAnd rose in haste from slumber stirred.\nIn wild amaze, her soul aflame\nWith fury toward the spot she came.\nWhen that foul shape of evil mien\nAnd stature vast as e\u2019er was seen\nThe wrathful son of Raghu eyed,\nHe thus unto his brother cried:\n\u201cHer dreadful shape, O Lakshma\u1e47, see,\nA form to shudder at and flee.\nThe hideous monster\u2019s very view\nWould cleave a timid heart in two.\nBehold the demon hard to smite,\nDefended by her magic might.\nMy hand shall stay her course to-day,\nAnd shear her nose and ears away.\nNo heart have I her life to take:\nI spare it for her sex\u2019s sake.\nMy will is but, with minished force,\nTo check her in her evil course.\u201d\nWhile thus he spoke, by rage impelled\n  Roaring as she came nigh,\nThe fiend her course at R\u00e1ma held\n  With huge arms tossed on high.\nHer, rushing on, the seer assailed\n  With a loud cry of hate;\nAnd thus the sons of Raghu hailed:\n  \u201cFight, and be fortunate.\u201d\nThen from the earth a horrid cloud\n  Of dust the demon raised,\nAnd for awhile in darkling shroud\n  Wrapt Raghu\u2019s sons amazed.\nThen calling on her magic power\n  The fearful fight to wage,\nShe smote him with a stony shower,\n  Till R\u00e1ma burned with rage.\nThen pouring forth his arrowy rain\n  That stony flood to stay,\nWith winged darts, as she charged amain,\n  He shore her hands away.\nAs T\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1 still thundered near\n  Thus maimed by R\u00e1ma\u2019s blows,\nLakshma\u1e47 in fury severed sheer\n  The monster\u2019s ears and nose.\nAssuming by her magic skill\n  A fresh and fresh disguise,\nShe tried a thousand shapes at will,\n  Then vanished from their eyes.\nWhen G\u00e1dhi\u2019s son of high renown\nStill saw the stony rain pour down\nUpon each princely warrior\u2019s head,\nWith words of wisdom thus he said:\n\u201cEnough of mercy, R\u00e1ma, lest\nThis sinful evil-working pest,\nDisturber of each holy rite,\nRepair by magic arts her might.\nWithout delay the fiend should die,\nFor, see, the twilight hour is nigh.\nAnd at the joints of night and day\nSuch giant foes are hard to slay.\u201d\nThen R\u00e1ma, skilful to direct\n  His arrow to the sound,\nWith shafts the mighty demon checked\n  Who rained her stones around.\nShe sore impeded and beset\nBy R\u00e1ma and his arrowy net,\nThough skilled in guile and magic lore,\nRushed on the brothers with a roar.\nDeformed, terrific, murderous, dread,\nSwift as the levin on she sped,\nLike cloudy pile in autumn\u2019s sky,\nLifting her two vast arms on high,\nWhen R\u00e1ma smote her with a dart,\nShaped like a crescent, to the heart.\nSore wounded by the shaft that came\nWith lightning speed and surest aim,\nBlood spouting from her mouth and side,\nShe fell upon the earth and died.\nSoon as the Lord who rules the sky\nSaw the dread monster lifeless lie,\nHe called aloud, Well done! well done!\nAnd the Gods honoured Raghu\u2019s son.\nStanding in heaven the Thousand-eyed,\nWith all the Immortals, joying cried:\n\u201cLift up thine eyes, O Saint, and see\nThe Gods and Indra nigh to thee.\nThis deed of R\u00e1ma\u2019s boundless might\nHas filled our bosoms with delight,\nNow, for our will would have it so,\nTo Raghu\u2019s son some favour show.\nInvest him with the power which naught\nBut penance gains and holy thought,\nThose heavenly arms on him bestow\nTo thee entrusted long ago\nBy great Kri\u015b\u00e1\u015bva best of kings,\nSon of the Lord of living things.\nMore fit recipient none can be\nThan he who joys it following thee;\nAnd for our sakes the monarch\u2019s seed\nHas yet to do a mighty deed.\u201d\n\n  He spoke; and all the heavenly train\nRejoicing sought their homes again,\nWhile honour to the saint they paid.\nThen came the evening\u2019s twilight shade,\nThe best of hermits overjoyed\nTo know the monstrous fiend destroyed,\nHis lips on R\u00e1ma\u2019s forehead pressed,\nAnd thus the conquering chief addressed:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma gracious to the sight.\nHere will we pass the present night,\nAnd with the morrow\u2019s earliest ray\nBend to my hermitage our way.\u201d\nThe son of Da\u015baratha heard,\nDelighted, Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s word,\nAnd as he bade, that night he spent\nIn T\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1\u2019s wild wood, content.\nAnd the grove shone that happy day,\nFreed from the curse that on it lay,\nLike Chaitraratha(164) fair and gay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIX. The Celestial Arms.\n\n\nThat night they slept and took their rest;\nAnd then the mighty saint addressed,\nWith pleasant smile and accents mild\nThese words to Raghu\u2019s princely child:\n\u201cWell pleased am I. High fate be thine,\nThou scion of a royal line.\nNow will I, for I love thee so,\nAll heavenly arms on thee bestow.\nVictor with these, whoe\u2019er oppose,\nThy hand shall conquer all thy foes,\nThough Gods and spirits of the air,\nSerpents and fiends, the conflict dare.\nI\u2019ll give thee as a pledge of love\nThe mystic arms they use above,\nFor worthy thou to have revealed\nThe weapons I have learnt to wield.(165)\nFirst, son of Raghu, shall be thine\nThe arm of Vengeance, strong, divine:\nThe arm of Fate, the arm of Right,\nAnd Vish\u1e47u\u2019s arm of awful might:\nThat, before which no foe can stand,\nThe thunderbolt of Indra\u2019s hand;\nAnd \u015aiva\u2019s trident, sharp and dread,\nAnd that dire weapon Brahm\u00e1\u2019s Head.\nAnd two fair clubs, O royal child,\nOne Charmer and one Pointed styled\nWith flame of lambent fire aglow,\nOn thee, O Chieftain, I bestow.\nAnd Fate\u2019s dread net and Justice\u2019 noose\nThat none may conquer, for thy use:\nAnd the great cord, renowned of old,\nWhich Varu\u1e47 ever loves to hold.\nTake these two thunderbolts, which I\nHave got for thee, the Moist and Dry.\nHere \u015aiva\u2019s dart to thee I yield,\nAnd that which Vish\u1e47u wont to wield.\nI give to thee the arm of Fire,\nDesired by all and named the Spire.\nTo thee I grant the Wind-God\u2019s dart,\nNamed Crusher, O thou pure of heart,\nThis arm, the Horse\u2019s Head, accept,\nAnd this, the Curlew\u2019s Bill yclept,\nAnd these two spears, the best e\u2019er flew,\nNamed the Invincible and True.\nAnd arms of fiends I make thine own,\nSkull-wreath and mace that smashes bone.\nAnd Joyous, which the spirits bear,\nGreat weapon of the sons of air.\nBrave offspring of the best of lords,\nI give thee now the Gem of swords,\nAnd offer next, thine hand to arm,\nThe heavenly bards\u2019 beloved charm.\nNow with two arms I thee invest\nOf never-ending Sleep and Rest,\nWith weapons of the Sun and Rain,\nAnd those that dry and burn amain;\nAnd strong Desire with conquering touch,\nThe dart that K\u00e1ma prizes much.\nI give the arm of shadowy powers\nThat bleeding flesh of men devours.\nI give the arms the God of Gold\nAnd giant fiends exult to hold.\nThis smites the foe in battle-strife,\nAnd takes his fortune, strength, and life.\nI give the arms called False and True,\nAnd great Illusion give I too;\nThe hero\u2019s arm called Strong and Bright\nThat spoils the foeman\u2019s strength in fight.\nI give thee as a priceless boon\nThe Dew, the weapon of the Moon,\nAnd add the weapon, deftly planned,\nThat strengthens Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s hand.\nThe Mortal dart whose point is chill,\nAnd Slaughter, ever sure to kill;\nAll these and other arms, for thou\nArt very dear, I give thee now.\nReceive these weapons from my hand,\nSon of the noblest in the land.\u201d\n\n  Facing the east, the glorious saint\nPure from all spot of earthly taint,\nTo R\u00e1ma, with delighted mind,\nThat noble host of spells consigned.\nHe taught the arms, whose lore is won\nHardly by Gods, to Raghu\u2019s son.\nHe muttered low the spell whose call\nSummons those arms and rules them all\nAnd, each in visible form and frame,\nBefore the monarch\u2019s son they came.\nThey stood and spoke in reverent guise\nTo R\u00e1ma with exulting cries:\n\u201cO noblest child of Raghu, see,\nThy ministers and thralls are we.\u201d\n  With joyful heart and eager hand\nR\u00e1ma received the wondrous band,\nAnd thus with words of welcome cried:\n\u201cAye present to my will abide.\u201d\nThen hasted to the saint to pay\nDue reverence, and pursued his way.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXX. The Mysterious Powers.(166)\n\n\nPure, with glad cheer and joyful breast,\nOf those mysterious arms possessed,\nR\u00e1ma, now passing on his way,\nThus to the saint began to say:\n\u201cLord of these mighty weapons, I\nCan scarce be harmed by Gods on high;\nNow, best of saints, I long to gain\nThe powers that can these arms restrain.\u201d\nThus spoke the prince. The sage austere,\nTrue to his vows, from evil clear,\nCalled forth the names of those great charms\nWhose powers restrain the deadly arms.\n\u201cReceive thou True and Truly famed,\nAnd Bold and Fleet: the weapons named\nWarder and Progress, swift of pace,\nAverted-head and Drooping-face;\nThe Seen, and that which Secret flies;\nThe weapon of the thousand eyes;\nTen-headed, and the Hundred-faced,\nStar-gazer and the Layer-waste:\nThe Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot,\nThe pair that wake and slumber not:\nThe Fiendish, that which shakes amain,\nThe Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain:\nThe Guardian, and the Close-allied,\nThe Gaper, Love, and Golden-side:\nO Raghu\u2019s son receive all these,\nBright ones that wear what forms they please;\nKri\u015b\u00e1\u015bva\u2019s mystic sons are they,\nAnd worthy thou their might to sway.\u201d\nWith joy the pride of Raghu\u2019s race\nReceived the hermit\u2019s proffered grace,\nMysterious arms, to check and stay,\nOr smite the foeman in the fray.\nThen, all with heavenly forms endued,\nNigh came the wondrous multitude.\nCelestial in their bright attire\nSome shone like coals of burning fire;\nSome were like clouds of dusky smoke;\nAnd suppliant thus they sweetly spoke:\n\u201cThy thralls, O R\u00e1ma, here we stand:\nCommand, we pray, thy faithful band\u201d\n\u201cDepart,\u201d he cried, \u201cwhere each may list,\nBut when I call you to assist,\nBe present to my mind with speed,\nAnd aid me in the hour of need.\u201d\n\n  To R\u00e1ma then they lowly bent,\nAnd round him in due reverence went,\nTo his command, they answered, Yea,\nAnd as they came so went away.\nWhen thus the arms had homeward flown,\nWith pleasant words and modest tone,\nE\u2019en as he walked, the prince began\nTo question thus the holy man:\n\u201cWhat cloudlike wood is that which near\nThe mountain\u2019s side I see appear?\nO tell me, for I long to know;\nIts pleasant aspect charms me so.\nIts glades are full of deer at play,\nAnd sweet birds sing on every spray,\nPast is the hideous wild; I feel\nSo sweet a tremor o\u2019er me steal,\nAnd hail with transport fresh and new\nA land that is so fair to view.\nThen tell me all, thou holy Sage,\nAnd whose this pleasant hermitage\nIn which those wicked ones delight\nTo mar and kill each holy rite.\nAnd with foul heart and evil deed\nThy sacrifice, great Saint, impede.\nTo whom, O Sage, belongs this land\nIn which thine altars ready stand!\n\u2019Tis mine to guard them, and to slay\nThe giants who the rites would stay.\nAll this, O best of saints, I burn\nFrom thine own lips, my lord, to learn.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.\n\n\nThus spoke the prince of boundless might,\nAnd thus replied the anchorite:\n\u201cChief of the mighty arm, of yore\nLord Vish\u1e47u whom the Gods adore,\nFor holy thought and rites austere\nOf penance made his dwelling here.\nThis ancient wood was called of old\nGrove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled,\nAnd when perfection he attained\nThe grove the name of Perfect gained.\nBali of yore, Virochan\u2019s son,\nDominion over Indra won,\nAnd when with power his proud heart swelled,\nO\u2019er the three worlds his empire held.\nWhen Bali then began a rite,\nThe Gods and Indra in affright\nSought Vish\u1e47u in this place of rest,\nAnd thus with prayers the God addressed:\n\u201cBali. Virochan\u2019s mighty son,\nHis sacrifice has now begun:\nOf boundless wealth, that demon king\nIs bounteous to each living thing.\nThough suppliants flock from every side\nThe suit of none is e\u2019er denied.\nWhate\u2019er, where\u2019er howe\u2019er the call,\nHe hears the suit and gives to all.\nNow with thine own illusive art\nPerform, O Lord, the helper\u2019s part:\nAssume a dwarfish form, and thus\nFrom fear and danger rescue us.\u201d(167)\n\n  Thus in their dread the Immortals sued:\nThe God a dwarflike shape indued:(168)\nBefore Virochan\u2019s son he came,\nThree steps of land his only claim.\nThe boon obtained, in wondrous wise\nLord Vish\u1e47u\u2019s form increased in size;\nThrough all the worlds, tremendous, vast,\nGod of the Triple Step, he passed.(169)\nThe whole broad earth from side to side\nHe measured with one mighty stride,\nSpanned with the next the firmament,\nAnd with the third through heaven he went.\nThus was the king of demons hurled\nBy Vish\u1e47u to the nether world,\nAnd thus the universe restored\nTo Indra\u2019s rule, its ancient lord.\nAnd now because the immortal God\nThis spot in dwarflike semblance trod,\nThe grove has aye been loved by me\nFor reverence of the devotee.\nBut demons haunt it, prompt to stay\nEach holy offering I would pay.\nBe thine, O lion-lord, to kill\nThese giants that delight in ill.\nThis day, beloved child, our feet\nShall rest within the calm retreat:\nAnd know, thou chief of Raghu\u2019s line,\nMy hermitage is also thine.\u201d\n\n  He spoke; and soon the anchorite,\nWith joyous looks that beamed delight,\nWith R\u00e1ma and his brother stood\nWithin the consecrated wood.\nSoon as they saw the holy man,\nWith one accord together ran\nThe dwellers in the sacred shade,\nAnd to the saint their reverence paid,\nAnd offered water for his feet,\nThe gift of honour and a seat;\nAnd next with hospitable care\nThey entertained the princely pair.\nThe royal tamers of their foes\nRested awhile in sweet repose:\nThen to the chief of hermits sued\nStanding in suppliant attitude:\n\u201cBegin, O best of saints, we pray,\nInitiatory rites to-day.\nThis Perfect Grove shall be anew\nMade perfect, and thy words be true.\u201d\n\n  Then, thus addressed, the holy man,\nThe very glorious sage, began\nThe high preliminary rite.\nRestraining sense and appetite.\nCalmly the youths that night reposed,\nAnd rose when morn her light disclosed,\nTheir morning worship paid, and took\nOf lustral water from the brook.\nThus purified they breathed the prayer,\nThen greeted Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra where\nAs celebrant he sate beside\nThe flame with sacred oil supplied.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXII. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Sacrifice.\n\n\nThat conquering pair, of royal race,\nSkilled to observe due time and place,\nTo Ku\u015bik\u2019s hermit son addressed,\nIn timely words, their meet request:\n\u201cWhen must we, lord, we pray thee tell,\nThose Rovers of the Night repel?\nSpeak, lest we let the moment fly,\nAnd pass the due occasion by.\u201d\nThus longing for the strife, they prayed,\nAnd thus the hermits answer made:\n\u201cTill the fifth day be come and past,\nO Raghu\u2019s sons, your watch must last.\nThe saint his Diksh\u00e1(170) has begun,\nAnd all that time will speak to none.\u201d\nSoon as the steadfast devotees\nHad made reply in words like these,\nThe youths began, disdaining sleep,\nSix days and nights their watch to keep.\nThe warrior pair who tamed the foe,\nUnrivalled benders of the bow,\nKept watch and ward unwearied still\nTo guard the saint from scathe and ill.\n\u2019Twas now the sixth returning day,\nThe hour foretold had past away.\nThen R\u00e1ma cried: \u201cO Lakshma\u1e47, now\nFirm, watchful, resolute be thou.\nThe fiends as yet have kept afar\nFrom the pure grove in which we are:\nYet waits us, ere the day shall close,\nDire battle with the demon foes.\u201d\n\n  While thus spoke R\u00e1ma borne away\nBy longing for the deadly fray,\nSee! bursting from the altar came\nThe sudden glory of the flame.\nRound priest and deacon, and upon\nGrass, ladles, flowers, the splendour shone,\n  And the high rite, in order due,\nWith sacred texts began anew.\nBut then a loud and fearful roar\n  Re-echoed through the sky;\nAnd like vast clouds that shadow o\u2019er\n  The heavens in dark July,\nInvolved in gloom of magic might\n  Two fiends rushed on amain,\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha, Rover of the Night,\n  Suv\u00e1hu, and their train.\nAs on they came in wild career\n  Thick blood in rain they shed;\nAnd R\u00e1ma saw those things of fear\n  Impending overhead.\nThen soon as those accursed two\n  Who showered down blood be spied,\nThus to his brother brave and true\n  Spoke R\u00e1ma lotus-eyed:\n\u201cNow, Lakshma\u1e47, thou these fiends shalt see,\n  Man-eaters, foul of mind,\nBefore my mortal weapon flee\n  Like clouds before the wind.\u201d\nHe spoke. An arrow, swift as thought,\n  Upon his bow he pressed,\nAnd smote, to utmost fury wrought,\n  M\u00e1r\u00edcha on the breast.\nDeep in his flesh the weapon lay\n  Winged by the mystic spell,\nAnd, hurled a hundred leagues away,\n  In ocean\u2019s flood he fell.\nThen R\u00e1ma, when he saw the foe\n  Convulsed and mad with pain\nNeath the chill-pointed weapon\u2019s blow,\n  To Lakshma\u1e47 spoke again:\n\u201cSee, Lakshma\u1e47, see! this mortal dart\n  That strikes a numbing chill,\nHath struck him senseless with the smart,\n  But left him breathing still.\nBut these who love the evil way,\n  And drink the blood they spill,\nRejoicing holy rites to stay,\n  Fierce plagues, my hand shall kill.\u201d\nHe seized another shaft, the best,\n  Aglow with living flame;\nIt struck Suv\u00e1hu on the chest,\n  And dead to earth he came.\nAgain a dart, the Wind-God\u2019s own,\n  Upon his string he laid,\nAnd all the demons were o\u2019erthrown,\n  The saints no more afraid.\nWhen thus the fiends were slain in fight,\nDisturbers of each holy rite,\nDue honour by the saints was paid\nTo R\u00e1ma for his wondrous aid:\nSo Indra is adored when he\nHas won some glorious victory.\nSuccess at last the rite had crowned,\nAnd Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra gazed around,\nAnd seeing every side at rest,\nThe son of Raghu thus addressed:\n\u201cMy joy, O Prince, is now complete:\n  Thou hast obeyed my will:\nPerfect before, this calm retreat\n  Is now more perfect still.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIII. The Sone.\n\n\nTheir task achieved, the princes spent\nThat night with joy and full content.\nEre yet the dawn was well displayed\nTheir morning rites they duly paid,\nAnd sought, while yet the light was faint,\nThe hermits and the mighty saint.\nThey greeted first that holy sire\nResplendent like the burning fire,\nAnd then with noble words began\nTheir sweet speech to the sainted man:\n\u201cHere stand, O Lord, thy servants true:\nCommand what thou wouldst have us do.\u201d\n\n  The saints, by Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra led,\nTo R\u00e1ma thus in answer said:\n\u201cJanak the king who rules the land\nOf fertile M\u00edthil\u00e1 has planned\nA noble sacrifice, and we\nWill thither go the rite to see.\nThou, Prince of men, with us shalt go,\nAnd there behold the wondrous bow,\nTerrific, vast, of matchless might,\nWhich, splendid at the famous rite,\nThe Gods assembled gave the king.\nNo giant, fiend, or God can string\nThat gem of bows, no heavenly bard:\nThen, sure, for man the task were hard.\nWhen lords of earth have longed to know\nThe virtue of that wondrous bow,\nThe strongest sons of kings in vain\nHave tried the mighty cord to strain.\nThis famous bow thou there shalt view,\nAnd wondrous rites shalt witness too.\nThe high-souled king who lords it o\u2019er\nThe realm of M\u00edthil\u00e1 of yore\nGained from the Gods this bow, the price\nOf his imperial sacrifice.\nWon by the rite the glorious prize\nStill in the royal palace lies,\nLaid up in oil of precious scent\nWith aloe-wood and incense blent.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma answering, Be it so,\nMade ready with the rest to go.\nThe saint himself was now prepared,\nBut ere beyond the grove he fared,\nHe turned him and in words like these\nAddressed the sylvan deities:\n\u201cFarewell! each holy rite complete,\nI leave the hermits\u2019 perfect seat:\nTo Gang\u00e1\u2019s northern shore I go\nBeneath Him\u00e1laya\u2019s peaks of snow.\u201d\nWith reverent steps he paced around\nThe limits of the holy ground,\nAnd then the mighty saint set forth\nAnd took his journey to the north.\nHis pupils, deep in Scripture\u2019s page,\nFollowed behind the holy sage,\nAnd servants from the sacred grove\nA hundred wains for convoy drove.\nThe very birds that winged that air,\nThe very deer that harboured there,\nForsook the glade and leafy brake\nAnd followed for the hermit\u2019s sake.\nThey travelled far, till in the west\nThe sun was speeding to his rest,\nAnd made, their portioned journey o\u2019er,\nTheir halt on \u015aona\u2019s(171) distant shore.\nThe hermits bathed when sank the sun,\nAnd every rite was duly done,\nOblations paid to Fire, and then\nSate round their chief the holy men.\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 lowly bowed\nIn reverence to the hermit crowd,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, having sate him down\nBefore the saint of pure renown,\nWith humble palms together laid\nHis eager supplication made:\n\u201cWhat country, O my lord, is this,\nFair-smiling in her wealth and bliss?\nDeign fully, O thou mighty Seer,\nTo tell me, for I long to hear.\u201d\nMoved by the prayer of R\u00e1ma, he\nTold forth the country\u2019s history.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.\n\n\n\u201cA king of Brahm\u00e1\u2019s seed who bore\nThe name of Ku\u015ba reigned of yore.\nJust, faithful to his vows, and true,\nHe held the good in honour due.\nHis bride, a queen of noble name,\nOf old Vidarbha\u2019s(172) monarchs came.\nLike their own father, children four,\nAll valiant boys, the lady bore.\nIn glorious deeds each nerve they strained,\nAnd well their Warrior part sustained.\nTo them most just, and true, and brave,\nTheir father thus his counsel gave:\n\u201cBeloved children, ne\u2019er forget\nProtection is a prince\u2019s debt:\nThe noble work at once begin,\nHigh virtue and her fruits to win.\u201d\nThe youths, to all the people dear,\nReceived his speech with willing ear;\nAnd each went forth his several way,\nFoundations of a town to lay.\nKu\u015b\u00e1mba, prince of high renown,\nWas builder of Kau\u015b\u00e1mb\u00ed\u2019s town,\nAnd Ku\u015ban\u00e1bha, just and wise,\nBade high Mahodaya\u2019s towers arise.\nAm\u00fartarajas chose to dwell\nIn Dharm\u00e1ra\u1e47ya\u2019s citadel,\nAnd Vasu bade his city fair\nThe name of Girivraja bear.(173)\nThis fertile spot whereon we stand\nWas once the high-souled Vasu\u2019s land.\nBehold! as round we turn our eyes,\nFive lofty mountain peaks arise.\nSee! bursting from her parent hill,\nSum\u00e1gadh\u00ed, a lovely rill,\nBright gleaming as she flows between\nThe mountains, like a wreath is seen,\nAnd then through Magadh\u2019s plains and groves\nWith many a fair m\u00e6ander roves.\nAnd this was Vasu\u2019s old domain,\nThe fertile Magadh\u2019s broad champaign,\nWhich smiling fields of tilth adorn\nAnd diadem with golden corn.\n\n  The queen Ghrit\u00e1ch\u00ed, nymph most fair,\nMarried to Ku\u015ban\u00e1bha, bare\nA hundred daughters, lovely-faced,\nWith every charm and beauty graced.\nIt chanced the maidens, bright and gay\nAs lightning-flashes on a day\nOf rain time, to the garden went\nWith song and play and merriment,\nAnd there in gay attire they strayed,\nAnd danced, and laughed, and sang, and played.\nThe God of Wind who roves at will\nAll places, as he lists, to fill,\nSaw the young maidens dancing there,\nOf faultless shape and mien most fair.\n\u201cI love you all, sweet girls,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cAnd each shall be my darling bride.\nForsake, forsake your mortal lot,\nAnd gain a life that withers not.\nA fickle thing is youth\u2019s brief span,\nAnd more than all in mortal man.\nReceive unending youth, and be\nImmortal, O my loves, with me.\u201d\n\n  The hundred girls, to wonder stirred,\nThe wooing of the Wind-God heard,\nLaughed, as a jest, his suit aside,\nAnd with one voice they thus replied:\n\u201cO mighty Wind, free spirit who\nAll life pervadest, through and through,\nThy wondrous power we maidens know;\nThen wherefore wilt thou mock us so?\nOur sire is Ku\u015ban\u00e1bha, King;\nAnd we, forsooth, have charms to bring\nA God to woo us from the skies;\nBut honour first we maidens prize.\nFar may the hour, we pray, be hence,\nWhen we, O thou of little sense,\nOur truthful father\u2019s choice refuse,\nAnd for ourselves our husbands choose.\nOur honoured sire our lord we deem,\nHe is to us a God supreme,\nAnd they to whom his high decree\nMay give us shall our husbands be.\u201d\n\n  He heard the answer they returned,\nAnd mighty rage within him burned.\nOn each fair maid a blast he sent:\nEach stately form he bowed and bent.\nBent double by the Wind-God\u2019s ire\nThey sought the palace of their sire,\nThere fell upon the ground with sighs,\nWhile tears and shame were in their eyes.\nThe king himself, with troubled brow,\nSaw his dear girls so fair but now,\nA mournful sight all bent and bowed,\nAnd grieving thus he cried aloud:\n\u201cWhat fate is this, and what the cause?\nWhat wretch has scorned all heavenly laws?\nWho thus your forms could curve and break?\nYou struggle, but no answer make.\u201d\n\n  They heard the speech of that wise king\nOf their misfortune questioning.\nAgain the hundred maidens sighed,\nTouched with their heads his feet, and cried:\n\u201cThe God of Wind, pervading space,\nWould bring on us a foul disgrace,\nAnd choosing folly\u2019s evil way\nFrom virtue\u2019s path in scorn would stray.\nBut we in words like these reproved\nThe God of Wind whom passion moved:\n\u201cFarewell, O Lord! A sire have we,\nNo women uncontrolled and free.\nGo, and our sire\u2019s consent obtain\nIf thou our maiden hands wouldst gain.\nNo self-dependent life we live:\nIf we offend, our fault forgive.\u201d\nBut led by folly as a slave,\nHe would not hear the rede we gave,\nAnd even as we gently spoke\nWe felt the Wind-God\u2019s crushing stroke.\u201d\n\n  The pious king, with grief distressed,\nThe noble hundred thus addressed:\n\u201cWith patience, daughters, bear your fate,\nYours was a deed supremely great\nWhen with one mind you kept from shame\nThe honour of your father\u2019s name.\nPatience, when men their anger vent,\nIs woman\u2019s praise and ornament;\nYet when the Gods inflict the blow\nHard is it to support the woe.\nPatience, my girls, exceeds all price:\n\u2019Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice.\nPatience is virtue, patience fame:\nPatience upholds this earthly frame.\nAnd now, I think, is come the time\nTo wed you in your maiden prime.\nNow, daughters, go where\u2019er you will:\nThoughts for your good my mind shall fill.\u201d\n\n  The maidens went, consoled, away:\nThe best of kings, that very day,\nSummoned his ministers of state\nAbout their marriage to debate.\nSince then, because the Wind-God bent\nThe damsels\u2019 forms for punishment,\nThat royal town is known to fame\nBy Kany\u00e1kubja\u2019s(174) borrowed name.\n\n  There lived a sage called Ch\u00fali then,\nDevoutest of the sons of men;\nHis days in penance rites he spent,\nA glorious saint, most continent.\nTo him absorbed in tasks austere\nThe child of Urmil\u00e1 drew near,\nSweet Somad\u00e1, the heavenly maid\nAnd lent the saint her pious aid.\nLong time near him the maiden spent,\nAnd served him meek and reverent,\nTill the great hermit, pleased with her,\nThus spoke unto his minister:\n\u201cGrateful am I for all thy care:\nBlest maiden, speak, thy wish declare.\u201d\nThe sweet-voiced nymph rejoiced to see\nThe favour of the devotee,\nAnd to that eloquent old man,\nMost eloquent she thus began:\n\u201cThou hast, by heavenly grace sustained,\nClose union with the Godhead gained.\nI long, O Saint, to see a son\nBy force of holy penance won.\nUnwed, a maiden life I live:\nA son to me, thy suppliant, give.\u201d\nThe saint with favour heard her prayer,\nAnd gave a son exceeding fair.\nHim, Ch\u00fali\u2019s spiritual child,\nHis mother Brahmadatta(175) styled.\nKing Brahmadatta, rich and great,\nIn K\u00e1mpil\u00ed maintained his state,\nRuling, like Indra in his bliss,\nHis fortunate metropolis.\nKing Ku\u015ban\u00e1bha planned that he\nHis hundred daughters\u2019 lord should be.\nTo him, obedient to his call,\nThe happy monarch gave them all.\nLike Indra then he took the hand\nOf every maiden of the band.\nSoon as the hand of each young maid\nIn Brahmadatta\u2019s palm was laid,\nDeformity and cares away,\nShe shone in beauty bright and gay.\nTheir freedom from the Wind-God\u2019s might\nSaw Ku\u015ban\u00e1bha with delight.\nEach glance that on their forms he threw\nFilled him with raptures ever new.\nThen when the rites were all complete,\nWith highest marks of honour meet\nThe bridegroom with his brides he sent\nTo his great seat of government.\n\n  The nymph received with pleasant speech\nHer daughters; and, embracing each,\nUpon their forms she fondly gazed,\nAnd royal Ku\u015ban\u00e1bha praised.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXV. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Lineage.\n\n\n\u201cThe rites were o\u2019er, the maids were wed,\nThe bridegroom to his home was sped.\nThe sonless monarch bade prepare\nA sacrifice to gain an heir.\nThen Ku\u015ba, Brahm\u00e1\u2019s son, appeared,\nAnd thus King Ku\u015ban\u00e1bha cheered:\n\u201cThou shalt, my child, obtain a son\nLike thine own self, O holy one.\nThrough him for ever, G\u00e1dhi named,\nShalt thou in all the worlds be famed.\u201d\nHe spoke, and vanished from the sight\nTo Brahm\u00e1\u2019s world of endless light.\nTime fled, and, as the saint foretold,\nG\u00e1dhi was born, the holy-souled.\nMy sire was he; through him I trace\nMy line from royal Ku\u015ba\u2019s race.\nMy sister\u2014elder-born was she\u2014\nThe pure and good Satyavat\u00ed,(176)\nWas to the great Rich\u00edka wed.\nStill faithful to her husband dead,\nShe followed him, most noble dame,\nAnd, raised to heaven in human frame,\nA pure celestial stream became.\nDown from Him\u00e1laya\u2019s snowy height,\nIn floods for ever fair and bright,\nMy sister\u2019s holy waves are hurled\nTo purify and glad the world.\nNow on Him\u00e1laya\u2019s side I dwell\nBecause I love my sister well.\nShe, for her faith and truth renowned,\nMost loving to her husband found,\nHigh-fated, firm in each pure vow,\nIs queen of all the rivers now.\nBound by a vow I left her side\nAnd to the Perfect convent hied.\nThere, by the aid \u2019twas thine to lend,\nMade perfect, all my labours end.\nThus, mighty Prince, I now have told\nMy race and lineage, high and old,\nAnd local tales of long ago\nWhich thou, O R\u00e1ma, fain wouldst know.\nAs I have sate rehearsing thus\nThe midnight hour is come on us.\nNow, R\u00e1ma, sleep, that nothing may\nOur journey of to-morrow stay.\nNo leaf on any tree is stirred:\nHushed in repose are beast and bird:\nWhere\u2019er you turn, on every side,\nDense shades of night the landscape hide,\nThe light of eve is fled: the skies,\nThick-studded with their host of eyes,\nSeem a star-forest overhead,\nWhere signs and constellations spread.\nNow rises, with his pure cold ray,\nThe moon that drives the shades away,\nAnd with his gentle influence brings\nJoy to the hearts of living things.\nNow, stealing from their lairs, appear\nThe beasts to whom the night is dear.\nNow spirits walk, and every power\nThat revels in the midnight hour.\u201d\n\n  The mighty hermit\u2019s tale was o\u2019er,\nHe closed his lips and spoke no more.\nThe holy men on every side,\n\u201cWell done! well done,\u201d with reverence cried;\n\u201cThe mighty men of Ku\u015ba\u2019s seed\nWere ever famed for righteous deed.\nLike Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self in glory shine\nThe high-souled lords of Ku\u015ba\u2019s line,\nAnd thy great name is sounded most,\nO Saint, amid the noble host.\nAnd thy dear sister\u2014fairest she\nOf streams, the high-born Kau\u015bik\u00ed\u2014\nDiffusing virtue where she flows,\nNew splendour on thy lineage throws.\u201d\nThus by the chief of saints addressed\nThe son of G\u00e1dhi turned to rest;\nSo, when his daily course is done,\nSinks to his rest the beaming sun.\nR\u00e1ma with Lakshma\u1e47, somewhat stirred\nTo marvel by the tales they heard,\nTurned also to his couch, to close\nHis eyelids in desired repose.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVI. The Birth Of Gang\u00e1.\n\n\nThe hours of night now waning fast\nOn \u015aona\u2019s pleasant shore they passed.\nThen, when the dawn began to break,\nTo R\u00e1ma thus the hermit spake:\n\u201cThe light of dawn is breaking clear,\nThe hour of morning rites is near.\nRise, R\u00e1ma, rise, dear son, I pray,\nAnd make thee ready for the way.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma rose, and finished all\nHis duties at the hermit\u2019s call,\nPrepared with joy the road to take,\nAnd thus again in question spake:\n\u201cHere fair and deep the \u015aona flows,\nAnd many an isle its bosom shows:\nWhat way, O Saint, will lead us o\u2019er\nAnd land us on the farther shore?\u201d\nThe saint replied: \u201cThe way I choose\nIs that which pious hermits use.\u201d\nFor many a league they journeyed on\nTill, when the sun of mid-day shone,\nThe hermit-haunted flood was seen\nOf J\u00e1hnav\u00ed,(177) the Rivers\u2019 Queen.\nSoon as the holy stream they viewed,\nThronged with a white-winged multitude\nOf s\u00e1rases(178) and swans,(179) delight\nPossessed them at the lovely sight;\nAnd then prepared the hermit band\nTo halt upon that holy strand.\nThey bathed as Scripture bids, and paid\nOblations due to God and shade.\nTo Fire they burnt the offerings meet,\nAnd sipped the oil, like Amrit sweet.\nThen pure and pleased they sate around\nSaint Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra on the ground.\nThe holy men of lesser note,\nIn due degree, sate more remote,\nWhile Raghu\u2019s sons took nearer place\nBy virtue of their rank and race.\nThen R\u00e1ma said: \u201cO Saint, I yearn\nThe three-pathed Gang\u00e1\u2019s tale to learn.\u201d\n\n  Thus urged, the sage recounted both\nThe birth of Gang\u00e1 and her growth:\n\u201cThe mighty hill with metals stored,\nHim\u00e1laya, is the mountains\u2019 lord,\nThe father of a lovely pair\nOf daughters fairest of the fair:\nTheir mother, offspring of the will\nOf Meru, everlasting hill,\nMen\u00e1, Him\u00e1laya\u2019s darling, graced\nWith beauty of her dainty waist.\nGang\u00e1 was elder-born: then came\nThe fair one known by Um\u00e1\u2019s name.\nThen all the Gods of heaven, in need\nOf Gang\u00e1\u2019s help their vows to speed,\nTo great Him\u00e1laya came and prayed\nThe mountain King to yield the maid.\nHe, not regardless of the weal\nOf the three worlds, with holy zeal\nHis daughter to the Immortals gave,\nGang\u00e1 whose waters cleanse and save,\nWho roams at pleasure, fair and free,\nPurging all sinners, to the sea.\nThe three-pathed Gang\u00e1 thus obtained,\nThe Gods their heavenly homes regained.\nLong time the sister Um\u00e1 passed\nIn vows austere and rigid fast,\nAnd the king gave the devotee\nImmortal Rudra\u2019s(180) bride to be,\nMatching with that unequalled Lord\nHis Um\u00e1 through the worlds adored.\nSo now a glorious station fills\nEach daughter of the King of Hills:\nOne honoured as the noblest stream,\nOne mid the Goddesses supreme.\nThus Gang\u00e1, King Him\u00e1laya\u2019s child,\nThe heavenly river, undefiled,\nRose bearing with her to the sky\nHer waves that bless and purify.\u201d\n\n[I am compelled to omit Cantos XXXVII and XXXVIII, THE GLORY OF UM\u00c1, and\nTHE BIRTH OF K\u00c1RTIKEYA, as both in subject and language offensive to\nmodern taste. They will be found in Schlegel\u2019s Latin translation.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIX. The Sons Of Sagar.\n\n\nThe saint in accents sweet and clear\nThus told his tale for R\u00e1ma\u2019s ear,\nAnd thus anew the holy man\nA legend to the prince began:\n\u201cThere reigned a pious monarch o\u2019er\nAyodhy\u00e1 in the days of yore:\nSagar his name: no child had he,\nAnd children much he longed to see.\nHis honoured consort, fair of face,\nSprang from Vidarbha\u2019s royal race,\nKe\u015bini, famed from early youth\nFor piety and love of truth.\nAr\u00edsh\u1e6danemi\u2019s daughter fair,\nWith whom no maiden might compare\nIn beauty, though the earth is wide,\nSumati, was his second bride.\nWith his two queens afar he went,\nAnd weary days in penance spent,\nFervent, upon Him\u00e1laya\u2019s hill\nWhere springs the stream called Bhrigu\u2019 rill.\nNor did he fail that saint to please\nWith his devout austerities.\nAnd, when a hundred years had fled,\nThus the most truthful Bhrigu said:\n\u201cFrom thee, O Sagar, blameless King,\nA mighty host of sons shall spring,\nAnd thou shalt win a glorious name\nWhich none, O Chief, but thou shall claim.\nOne of thy queens a son shall bear,\nMaintainer of thy race and heir;\nAnd of the other there shall be\nSons sixty thousand born to thee.\u201d\n\n  Thus as he spake, with one accord,\nTo win the grace of that high lord,\nThe queens, with palms together laid,\nIn humble supplication prayed:\n\u201cWhich queen, O Br\u00e1hman, of the pair,\nThe many, or the one shall bear?\nMost eager, Lord, are we to know,\nAnd as thou sayest be it so.\u201d\nWith his sweet speech the saint replied:\n\u201cYourselves, O Queens, the choice decide.\nYour own discretion freely use\nWhich shall the one or many choose:\nOne shall the race and name uphold,\nThe host be famous, strong, and bold.\nWhich will have which?\u201d Then Ke\u015bini\nThe mother of one heir would be.\nSumati, sister of the king(181)\nOf all the birds that ply the wing,\nTo that illustrious Br\u00e1hman sued\nThat she might bear the multitude\nWhose fame throughout the world should sound\nFor mighty enterprise renowned.\nAround the saint the monarch went,\nBowing his head, most reverent.\nThen with his wives, with willing feet,\nResought his own imperial seat.\nTime passed. The elder consort bare\nA son called Asamanj, the heir.\nThen Sumati, the younger, gave\nBirth to a gourd,(182) O hero brave,\nWhose rind, when burst and cleft in two,\nGave sixty thousand babes to view.\nAll these with care the nurses laid\nIn jars of oil; and there they stayed,\nTill, youthful age and strength complete,\nForth speeding from each dark retreat,\nAll peers in valour, years, and might,\nThe sixty thousand came to light.\nPrince Asamanj, brought up with care,\nScourge of his foes, was made the heir.\nBut liegemen\u2019s boys he used to cast\nTo Sarj\u00fa\u2019s waves that hurried past,\nLaughing the while in cruel glee\nTheir dying agonies to see.\nThis wicked prince who aye withstood\nThe counsel of the wise and good,\nWho plagued the people in his hate,\nHis father banished from the state.\nHis son, kind-spoken, brave, and tall,\nWas An\u015bum\u00e1n, beloved of all.\n\n  Long years flew by. The king decreed\nTo slay a sacrificial steed.\nConsulting with his priestly band\nHe vowed the rite his soul had planned,\nAnd, Veda skilled, by their advice\nMade ready for the sacrifice.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.\n\n\nThe hermit ceased: the tale was done:\nThen in a transport Raghu\u2019s son\nAgain addressed the ancient sire\nResplendent as a burning fire:\n\u201cO holy man, I fain would hear\nThe tale repeated full and clear\nHow he from whom my sires descend\nBrought the great rite to happy end.\u201d\nThe hermit answered with a smile:\n\u201cThen listen, son of Raghu, while\nMy legendary tale proceeds\nTo tell of high-souled Sagar\u2019s deeds.\nWithin the spacious plain that lies\nFrom where Him\u00e1laya\u2019s heights arise\nTo where proud Vindhya\u2019s rival chain\nLooks down upon the subject plain\u2014\nA land the best for rites declared(183)\u2014\nHis sacrifice the king prepared.\nAnd An\u015bum\u00e1n the prince\u2014for so\nSagar advised\u2014with ready bow\nWas borne upon a mighty car\nTo watch the steed who roamed afar.\nBut Indra, monarch of the skies,\nVeiling his form in demon guise,\nCame down upon the appointed day\nAnd drove the victim horse away.\nReft of the steed the priests, distressed,\nThe master of the rite addressed:\n\u201cUpon the sacred day by force\nA robber takes the victim horse.\nHaste, King! now let the thief be slain;\nBring thou the charger back again:\nThe sacred rite prevented thus\nBrings scathe and woe to all of us.\nRise, monarch, and provide with speed\nThat naught its happy course impede.\u201d\n\n  King Sagar in his crowded court\nGave ear unto the priests\u2019 report.\nHe summoned straightway to his side\nHis sixty thousand sons, and cried:\n\u201cBrave sons of mine, I knew not how\nThese demons are so mighty now:\nThe priests began the rite so well\nAll sanctified with prayer and spell.\nIf in the depths of earth he hide,\nOr lurk beneath the ocean\u2019s tide,\nPursue, dear sons, the robber\u2019s track;\nSlay him and bring the charger back.\nThe whole of this broad earth explore,\nSea-garlanded, from shore to shore:\nYea, dig her up with might and main\nUntil you see the horse again.\nDeep let your searching labour reach,\nA league in depth dug out by each.\nThe robber of our horse pursue,\nAnd please your sire who orders you.\nMy grandson, I, this priestly train,\nTill the steed comes, will here remain.\u201d\n\n  Their eager hearts with transport burned\nAs to their task the heroes turned.\nObedient to their father, they\nThrough earth\u2019s recesses forced their way.\nWith iron arms\u2019 unflinching toil\nEach dug a league beneath the soil.\nEarth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain,\nAs emulous they plied amain\nSharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar,\nHard as the bolts of Indra are.\nThen loud the horrid clamour rose\nOf monsters dying neath their blows,\nGiant and demon, fiend and snake,\nThat in earth\u2019s core their dwelling make.\nThey dug, in ire that naught could stay,\nThrough sixty thousand leagues their way,\nCleaving the earth with matchless strength\nTill hell itself they reached at length.\nThus digging searched they Jambudvip(184)\nWith all its hills and mountains steep.\nThen a great fear began to shake\nThe heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake,\nAnd all distressed in spirit went\nBefore the Sire Omnipotent.\nWith signs of woe in every face\nThey sought the mighty Father\u2019s grace,\nAnd trembling still and ill at ease\nAddressed their Lord in words like these:\n\u201cThe sons of Sagar, Sire benign,\nPierce the whole earth with mine on mine,\nAnd as their ruthless work they ply\nInnumerable creatures die.\n\u201cThis is the thief,\u201d the princes say,\n\u201cWho stole our victim steed away.\nThis marred the rite, and caused us ill,\nAnd so their guiltless blood they spill.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLI. Kapil.\n\n\nThe father lent a gracious ear\nAnd listened to their tale of fear,\nAnd kindly to the Gods replied\nWhom woe and death had terrified:\n\u201cThe wisest V\u00e1sudeva,(185) who\nThe Immortals\u2019 foe, fierce Madhu, slew,\nRegards broad Earth with love and pride\nAnd guards, in Kapil\u2019s form, his bride.(186)\nHis kindled wrath will quickly fall\nOn the king\u2019s sons and burn them all.\nThis cleaving of the earth his eye\nForesaw in ages long gone by:\nHe knew with prescient soul the fate\nThat Sagar\u2019s children should await.\u201d\n\n  The Three-and-thirty,(187) freed from fear,\nSought their bright homes with hopeful cheer.\nStill rose the great tempestuous sound\nAs Sagar\u2019s children pierced the ground.\nWhen thus the whole broad earth was cleft,\nAnd not a spot unsearched was left,\nBack to their home the princes sped,\nAnd thus unto their father said:\n\u201cWe searched the earth from side to side,\nWhile countless hosts of creatures died.\nOur conquering feet in triumph trod\nOn snake and demon, fiend and God;\nBut yet we failed, with all our toil,\nTo find the robber and the spoil.\nWhat can we more? If more we can,\nDevise, O King, and tell thy plan.\u201d\n\n  His children\u2019s speech King Sagar heard,\nAnd answered thus, to anger stirred:\n\u201cDig on, and ne\u2019er your labour stay\nTill through earth\u2019s depths you force your way.\nThen smite the robber dead, and bring\nThe charger back with triumphing.\u201d\nThe sixty thousand chiefs obeyed:\nDeep through the earth their way they made.\nDeep as they dug and deeper yet\nThe immortal elephant they met,\nFamed V\u00edr\u00fap\u00e1ksha(188) vast of size,\nUpon whose head the broad earth lies:\nThe mighty beast who earth sustains\nWith shaggy hills and wooded plains.\nWhen, with the changing moon, distressed,\nAnd longing for a moment\u2019s rest,\nHis mighty head the monster shakes,\nEarth to the bottom reels and quakes.\nAround that warder strong and vast\nWith reverential steps they passed.\nNor, when the honour due was paid,\nTheir downward search through earth delayed.\nBut turning from the east aside\nSouthward again their task they plied.\nThere Mah\u00e1padma held his place,\nThe best of all his mighty race,\nLike some huge hill, of monstrous girth,\nUpholding on his head the earth.\nWhen the vast beast the princes saw,\nThey marvelled and were filled with awe.\nThe sons of high-souled Sagar round\nThat elephant in reverence wound.\nThen in the western region they\nWith might unwearied cleft their way.\nThere saw they with astonisht eyes\nSaumanas, beast of mountain size.\nRound him with circling steps they went\nWith greetings kind and reverent.\n\n  On, on\u2014no thought of rest or stay\u2014\nThey reached the seat of Soma\u2019s sway.\nThere saw they Bhadra, white as snow,\nWith lucky marks that fortune show,\nBearing the earth upon his head.\nRound him they paced with solemn tread,\nAnd honoured him with greetings kind,\nThen downward yet their way they mined.\nThey gained the tract \u2019twixt east and north\nWhose fame is ever blazoned forth,(189)\nAnd by a storm of rage impelled,\nDigging through earth their course they held.\n\n  Then all the princes, lofty-souled,\nOf wondrous vigour, strong and bold,\nSaw V\u00e1sudeva(190) standing there\nIn Kapil\u2019s form he loved to wear,\nAnd near the everlasting God\nThe victim charger cropped the sod.\nThey saw with joy and eager eyes\nThe fancied robber and the prize,\nAnd on him rushed the furious band\nCrying aloud, Stand, villain! stand!\n\u201cAvaunt! avaunt!\u201d great Kapil cried,\nHis bosom flusht with passion\u2019s tide;\nThen by his might that proud array\nAll scorcht to heaps of ashes lay.(191)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLII. Sagar\u2019s Sacrifice.\n\n\nThen to the prince his grandson, bright\nWith his own fame\u2019s unborrowed light,\nKing Sagar thus began to say,\nMarvelling at his sons\u2019 delay:\n\u201cThou art a warrior skilled and bold,\nMatch for the mighty men of old.\nNow follow on thine uncles\u2019 course\nAnd track the robber of the horse.\nTo guard thee take thy sword and bow,\nfor huge and strong are beasts below.\nThere to the reverend reverence pay,\nAnd kill the foes who check thy way;\nThen turn successful home and see\nMy sacrifice complete through thee.\u201d\n\n  Obedient to the high-souled lord\nGrasped An\u015bum\u00e1n his bow and sword,\nAnd hurried forth the way to trace\nWith youth and valour\u2019s eager pace.\nOn sped he by the path he found\nDug by his uncles underground.\nThe warder elephant he saw\nWhose size and strength pass Nature\u2019s law,\nWho bears the world\u2019s tremendous weight,\nWhom God, fiend, giant venerate,\nBird, serpent, and each flitting shade,\nTo him the honour meet he paid\nWith circling steps and greeting due,\nAnd further prayed him, if he knew,\nTo tell him of his uncles\u2019 weal,\nAnd who had dared the horse to steal.\nTo him in war and council tried\nThe warder elephant replied:\n\u201cThou, son of Asamanj, shalt lead\nIn triumph back the rescued steed.\u201d\n\n  As to each warder beast he came\nAnd questioned all, his words the same,\nThe honoured youth with gentle speech\nDrew eloquent reply from each,\nThat fortune should his steps attend,\nAnd with the horse he home should wend.\nCheered with the grateful answer, he\nPassed on with step more light and free,\nAnd reached with careless heart the place\nWhere lay in ashes Sagar\u2019s race.\nThen sank the spirit of the chief\nBeneath that shock of sudden grief,\nAnd with a bitter cry of woe\nHe mourned his kinsmen fallen so.\nHe saw, weighed down by woe and care,\nThe victim charger roaming there.\nYet would the pious chieftain fain\nOblations offer to the slain:\nBut, needing water for the rite,\nHe looked and there was none in sight\nHis quick eye searching all around\nThe uncle of his kinsmen found,\nKing Garu\u1e0d, best beyond compare\nOf birds who wing the fields of air.\nThen thus unto the weeping man\nThe son of Vinat\u00e1(192) began:\n\u201cGrieve not, O hero, for their fall\nWho died a death approved of all.\nOf mighty strength, they met their fate\nBy Kapil\u2019s hand whom none can mate.\nPour forth for them no earthly wave,\nA holier flood their spirits crave.\nIf, daughter of the Lord of Snow,\nGang\u00e1 would turn her stream below,\nHer waves that cleanse all mortal stain\nWould wash their ashes pure again.\nYea, when her flood whom all revere\nRolls o\u2019er the dust that moulders here,\nThe sixty thousand, freed from sin,\nA home in Indra\u2019s heaven shall win.\nGo, and with ceaseless labour try\nTo draw the Goddess from the sky.\nReturn, and with thee take the steed;\nSo shall thy grandsire\u2019s rite succeed.\u201d\n\n  Prince An\u015bum\u00e1n the strong and brave\nFollowed the rede Supar\u1e47a(193) gave.\nThe glorious hero took the horse,\nAnd homeward quickly bent his course.\nStraight to the anxious king he hied,\nWhom lustral rites had purified,\nThe mournful story to unfold\nAnd all the king of birds had told.\nThe tale of woe the monarch heard,\nNor longer was the rite deferred:\nWith care and just observance he\nAccomplished all, as texts decree.\nThe rites performed, with brighter fame,\nMighty in counsel, home he came.\nHe longed to bring the river down,\nBut found no plan his wish to crown.\nHe pondered long with anxious thought\nBut saw no way to what he sought.\nThus thirty thousand years he spent,\nAnd then to heaven the monarch went.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIII. Bhag\u00edrath.\n\n\nWhen Sagar thus had bowed to fate,\nThe lords and commons of the state\nApproved with ready heart and will\nPrince An\u015bum\u00e1n his throne to fill.\nHe ruled, a mighty king, unblamed,\nSire of Dil\u00edpa justly famed.\nTo him, his child and worthy heir,\nThe king resigned his kingdom\u2019s care,\nAnd on Him\u00e1laya\u2019s pleasant side\nHis task austere of penance plied.\nBright as a God in clear renown\nHe planned to bring pure Gang\u00e1 down.\nThere on his fruitless hope intent\nTwice sixteen thousand years he spent,\nAnd in the grove of hermits stayed\nTill bliss in heaven his rites repaid.\nDil\u00edpa then, the good and great,\nSoon as he learnt his kinsmen\u2019s fate,\nBowed down by woe, with troubled mind,\nPondering long no cure could find.\n\u201cHow can I bring,\u201d the mourner sighed,\n\u201cTo cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide?\nHow can I give them rest, and save\nTheir spirits with the offered wave?\u201d\nLong with this thought his bosom skilled\nIn holy discipline was filled.\nA son was born, Bhag\u00edrath named,\nAbove all men for virtue famed.\nDil\u00edpa many a rite ordained,\nAnd thirty thousand seasons reigned.\nBut when no hope the king could see\nHis kinsmen from their woe to free,\nThe lord of men, by sickness tried,\nObeyed the law of fate, and died;\nHe left the kingdom to his son,\nAnd gained the heaven his deeds had won.\nThe good Bhag\u00edrath, royal sage,\nHad no fair son to cheer his age.\nHe, great in glory, pure in will,\nLonging for sons was childless still.\nThen on one wish, one thought intent,\nPlanning the heavenly stream\u2019s descent,\nLeaving his ministers the care\nAnd burden of his state to bear,\nDwelling in far Gokarna(194) he\nEngaged in long austerity.\nWith senses checked, with arms upraised,\nFive fires(195) around and o\u2019er him blazed.\nEach weary month the hermit passed\nBreaking but once his awful fast.\nIn winter\u2019s chill the brook his bed,\nIn rain, the clouds to screen his head.\nThousands of years he thus endured\nTill Brahm\u00e1\u2019s favour was assured,\nAnd the high Lord of living things\nLooked kindly on his sufferings.\nWith trooping Gods the Sire came near\nThe king who plied his task austere:\n\u201cBlest Monarch, of a glorious race,\nThy fervent rites have won my grace.\nWell hast thou wrought thine awful task:\nSome boon in turn, O Hermit, ask.\u201d\n\n  Bhag\u00edrath, rich in glory\u2019s light,\nThe hero with the arm of might,\nThus to the Lord of earth and sky\nRaised suppliant hands and made reply:\n\u201cIf the great God his favour deigns,\nAnd my long toil its fruit obtains,\nLet Sagar\u2019s sons receive from me\nLibations that they long to see.\nLet Gang\u00e1 with her holy wave\nThe ashes of the heroes lave,\nThat so my kinsmen may ascend\nTo heavenly bliss that ne\u2019er shall end.\nAnd give, I pray, O God, a son,\nNor let my house be all undone.\nSire of the worlds! be this the grace\nBestowed upon Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race.\u201d\n\n  The Sire, when thus the king had prayed,\nIn sweet kind words his answer made.\n\u201cHigh, high thy thought and wishes are,\nBhag\u00edrath of the mighty car!\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line is blest in thee,\nAnd as thou prayest it shall be.\nGang\u00e1, whose waves in Swarga(196) flow,\nIs daughter of the Lord of Snow.\nWin \u015aiva that his aid be lent\nTo hold her in her mid descent,\nFor earth alone will never bear\nThose torrents hurled from upper air;\nAnd none may hold her weight but He,\nThe Trident wielding deity.\u201d\nThus having said, the Lord supreme\nAddressed him to the heavenly stream;\nAnd then with Gods and Maruts(197) went\nTo heaven above the firmament.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIV. The Descent Of Gang\u00e1.\n\n\nThe Lord of life the skies regained:\nThe fervent king a year remained\nWith arms upraised, refusing rest\nWhile with one toe the earth he pressed,\nStill as a post, with sleepless eye,\nThe air his food, his roof the sky.\nThe year had past. Then Um\u00e1\u2019s lord,(198)\nKing of creation, world adored,\nThus spoke to great Bhag\u00edrath: \u201cI,\nWell pleased thy wish will gratify,\nAnd on my head her waves shall fling\nThe daughter of the Mountains\u2019 King!\u201d\n\nHe stood upon the lofty crest\n  That crowns the Lord of Snow,\nAnd bade the river of the Blest\n  Descend on earth below.\nHim\u00e1laya\u2019s child, adored of all,\n  The haughty mandate heard,\nAnd her proud bosom, at the call,\n  With furious wrath was stirred.\nDown from her channel in the skies\n  With awful might she sped\nWith a giant\u2019s rush, in a giant\u2019s size,\n  On \u015aiva\u2019s holy head.\n\u201cHe calls me,\u201d in her wrath she cried,\n  \u201cAnd all my flood shall sweep\nAnd whirl him in its whelming tide\n  To hell\u2019s profoundest deep.\u201d\nHe held the river on his head,\n  And kept her wandering, where,\nDense as Him\u00e1laya\u2019s woods, were spread\n  The tangles of his hair.\nNo way to earth she found, ashamed,\n  Though long and sore she strove,\nCondemned, until her pride were tamed,\n  Amid his locks to rove.\nThere, many lengthening seasons through,\n  The wildered river ran:\nBhag\u00edrath saw it, and anew\n  His penance dire began.\nThen \u015aiva, for the hermit\u2019s sake,\n  Bade her long wanderings end,\nAnd sinking into Vindu\u2019s lake\n  Her weary waves descend.\nFrom Gang\u00e1, by the God set free,\n  Seven noble rivers came;\nHl\u00e1din\u00ed, P\u00e1van\u00ed, and she\n  Called Nalin\u00ed by name:\nThese rolled their lucid waves along\n  And sought the eastern side.\nSuchakshu, S\u00edt\u00e1 fair and strong,\n  And Sindhu\u2019s mighty tide\u2014(199)\nThese to the region of the west\n  With joyful waters sped:\nThe seventh, the brightest and the best,\n  Flowed where Bhag\u00edrath led.\nOn \u015aiva\u2019s head descending first\n  A rest the torrents found:\nThen down in all their might they burst\n  And roared along the ground.\nOn countless glittering scales the beam\n  Of rosy morning flashed,\nWhere fish and dolphins through the stream\n  Fallen and falling dashed.\nThen bards who chant celestial lays\n  And nymphs of heavenly birth\nFlocked round upon that flood to gaze\n  That streamed from sky to earth.\nThe Gods themselves from every sphere,\n  Incomparably bright,\nBorne in their golden cars drew near\n  To see the wondrous sight.\nThe cloudless sky was all aflame\n  With the light of a hundred suns\nWhere\u2019er the shining chariots came\n  That bore those holy ones.\nSo flashed the air with crested snakes\n  And fish of every hue\nAs when the lightning\u2019s glory breaks\n  Through fields of summer blue.\nAnd white foam-clouds and silver spray\n  Were wildly tossed on high,\nLike swans that urge their homeward way\n  Across the autumn sky.\nNow ran the river calm and clear\n  With current strong and deep:\nNow slowly broadened to a mere,\n  Or scarcely seemed to creep.\nNow o\u2019er a length of sandy plain\n  Her tranquil course she held;\nNow rose her waves and sank again,\n  By refluent waves repelled.\nSo falling first on \u015aiva\u2019s head,\nThence rushing to their earthly bed,\nIn ceaseless fall the waters streamed,\nAnd pure with holy lustre gleamed.\nThen every spirit, sage, and bard,\nCondemned to earth by sentence hard,\nPressed eagerly around the tide\nThat \u015aiva\u2019s touch had sanctified.\nThen they whom heavenly doom had hurled,\nAccursed, to this lower world,\nTouched the pure wave, and freed from sin\nResought the skies and entered in.\nAnd all the world was glad, whereon\nThe glorious water flowed and shone,\nFor sin and stain were banished thence\nBy the sweet river\u2019s influence.\nFirst, in a car of heavenly frame,\nThe royal saint of deathless name,\nBhag\u00edrath, very glorious rode,\nAnd after him fair Gang\u00e1 flowed.\nGod, sage, and bard, the chief in place\nOf spirits and the N\u00e1ga race,\nNymph, giant, fiend, in long array\nSped where Bhag\u00edrath led the way;\nAnd all the hosts the flood that swim\nFollowed the stream that followed him.\nWhere\u2019er the great Bhag\u00edrath led,\nThere ever glorious Gang\u00e1 fled,\nThe best of floods, the rivers\u2019 queen,\nWhose waters wash the wicked clean.\n\n  It chanced that Jahnu, great and good,\nEngaged with holy offerings stood;\nThe river spread her waves around\nFlooding his sacrificial ground.\nThe saint in anger marked her pride,\nAnd at one draught her stream he dried.\nThen God, and sage, and bard, afraid,\nTo noble high-souled Jahnu prayed,\nAnd begged that he would kindly deem\nHis own dear child that holy stream.\nMoved by their suit, he soothed their fears\nAnd loosed her waters from his ears.\nHence Gang\u00e1 through the world is styled\nBoth J\u00e1hnavi and Jahnu\u2019s child.\nThen onward still she followed fast,\nAnd reached the great sea bank at last.\nThence deep below her way she made\nTo end those rites so long delayed.\nThe monarch reached the Ocean\u2019s side,\nAnd still behind him Gang\u00e1 hied.\nHe sought the depths which open lay\nWhere Sagar\u2019s sons had dug their way.\nSo leading through earth\u2019s nether caves\nThe river\u2019s purifying waves,\nOver his kinsmen\u2019s dust the lord\nHis funeral libation poured.\nSoon as the flood their dust bedewed,\nTheir spirits gained beatitude,\nAnd all in heavenly bodies dressed\nRose to the skies\u2019 eternal rest.\n\n  Then thus to King Bhag\u00edrath said\nBrahm\u00e1, when, coming at the head\nOf all his bright celestial train,\nHe saw those spirits freed from stain:\n\u201cWell done! great Prince of men, well done!\nThy kinsmen bliss and heaven have won.\nThe sons of Sagar mighty-souled,\nAre with the Blest, as Gods, enrolled,\nLong as the Ocean\u2019s flood shall stand\nUpon the border of the land,\nSo long shall Sagar\u2019s sons remain,\nAnd, godlike, rank in heaven retain.\nGang\u00e1 thine eldest child shall be,\nCalled from thy name Bh\u00e1girath\u00ed;\nNamed also\u2014for her waters fell\nFrom heaven and flow through earth and hell\u2014\nTripathag\u00e1, stream of the skies,\nBecause three paths she glorifies.\nAnd, mighty King, \u2019tis given thee now\nTo free thee and perform thy vow.\nNo longer, happy Prince, delay\nDrink-offerings to thy kin to pay.\nFor this the holiest Sagar sighed,\nBut mourned the boon he sought denied.\nThen An\u015bum\u00e1n, dear Prince! although\nNo brighter name the world could show,\nStrove long the heavenly flood to gain\nTo visit earth, but strove in vain.\nNor was she by the sages\u2019 peer,\nBlest with all virtues, most austere,\nThy sire Dil\u00edpa, hither brought,\nThough with fierce prayers the boon he sought.\nBut thou, O King, earned success,\nAnd won high fame which God will bless.\nThrough thee, O victor of thy foes,\nOn earth this heavenly Gang\u00e1 flows,\nAnd thou hast gained the meed divine\nThat waits on virtue such as thine.\nNow in her ever holy wave\nThyself, O best of heroes, lave:\nSo shalt thou, pure from every sin,\nThe blessed fruit of merit win.\nNow for thy kin who died of yore\nThe meet libations duly pour.\nAbove the heavens I now ascend:\nDepart, and bliss thy steps attend.\u201d\n\n  Thus to the mighty king who broke\nHis foemens\u2019 might, Lord Brahm\u00e1 spoke,\nAnd with his Gods around him rose\nTo his own heaven of blest repose.\nThe royal sage no more delayed,\nBut, the libation duly paid,\nHome to his regal city hied\nWith water cleansed and purified.\nThere ruled he his ancestral state,\nBest of all men, most fortunate.\nAnd all the people joyed again\nIn good Bhag\u00edrath\u2019s gentle reign.\nRich, prosperous, and blest were they,\nAnd grief and sickness fled away.\nThus, R\u00e1ma, I at length have told\nHow Gang\u00e1 came from heaven of old.\nNow, for the evening passes swift,\nI wish thee each auspicious gift.\nThis story of the flood\u2019s descent\nWill give\u2014for \u2019tis most excellent\u2014\nWealth, purity, fame, length of days,\nAnd to the skies its hearers raise\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.\n\n\nHigh and more high their wonder rose\nAs the strange story reached its close,\nAnd thus, with Lakshma\u1e47, R\u00e1ma, best\nOf Raghu\u2019s sons, the saint addressed:\n\u201cMost wondrous is the tale which thou\nHast told of heavenly Gang\u00e1, how\nFrom realms above descending she\nFlowed through the land and filled the sea.\nIn thinking o\u2019er what thou hast said\nThe night has like a moment fled,\nWhose hours in musing have been spent\nUpon thy words most excellent:\nSo much, O holy Sage, thy lore\nHas charmed us with this tale of yore.\u201d\n\n  Day dawned. The morning rites were done\nAnd the victorious Raghu\u2019s son\nAddressed the sage in words like these,\nRich in his long austerities:\n\u201cThe night is past: the morn is clear;\nTold is the tale so good to hear:\nNow o\u2019er that river let us go,\nThree-pathed, the best of all that flow.\nThis boat stands ready on the shore\nTo bear the holy hermits o\u2019er,\nWho of thy coming warned, in haste,\nThe barge upon the bank have placed.\u201d\n\n  And Ku\u015bik\u2019s son approved his speech,\nAnd moving to the sandy beach,\nPlaced in the boat the hermit band,\nAnd reached the river\u2019s further strand.\nOn the north bank their feet they set,\nAnd greeted all the saints they met.\nOn Gang\u00e1\u2019s shore they lighted down,\nAnd saw Vi\u015b\u00e1l\u00e1\u2019s lovely town.\nThither, the princes by his side,\nThe best of holy hermits hied.\nIt was a town exceeding fair\nThat might with heaven itself compare.\nThen, suppliant palm to palm applied,\nFamed R\u00e1ma asked his holy guide:\n\u201cO best of hermits, say what race\nOf monarchs rules this lovely place.\nDear master, let my prayer prevail,\nFor much I long to hear the tale.\u201d\nMoved by his words, the saintly man\nVi\u015b\u00e1l\u00e1\u2019s ancient tale began:\n\u201cList, R\u00e1ma, list, with closest heed\nThe tale of Indra\u2019s wondrous deed,\nAnd mark me as I truly tell\nWhat here in ancient days befell.\nEre Krita\u2019s famous Age(200) had fled,\nStrong were the sons of Diti(201) bred;\nAnd Aditi\u2019s brave children too\nWere very mighty, good, and true.\nThe rival brothers fierce and bold\nWere sons of Ka\u015byap lofty-souled.\nOf sister mothers born, they vied,\nBrood against brood, in jealous pride.\nOnce, as they say, band met with band,\nAnd, joined in awful council, planned\nTo live, unharmed by age and time,\nImmortal in their youthful prime.\nThen this was, after due debate,\nThe counsel of the wise and great,\nTo churn with might the milky sea(202)\nThe life-bestowing drink to free.\nThis planned, they seized the Serpent King,\nV\u00e1suki, for their churning-string,\nAnd Mandar\u2019s mountain for their pole,\nAnd churned with all their heart and soul.\nAs thus, a thousand seasons through,\nThis way and that the snake they drew,\nBiting the rocks, each tortured head,\nA very deadly venom shed.\nThence, bursting like a mighty flame,\nA pestilential poison came,\nConsuming, as it onward ran,\nThe home of God, and fiend, and man.\nThen all the suppliant Gods in fear\nTo \u015aankar,(203) mighty lord, drew near.\nTo Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed,\n\u201cSave us, O save us, Lord!\u201d they prayed.\nThen Vish\u1e47u, bearing shell, and mace,\nAnd discus, showed his radiant face,\nAnd thus addressed in smiling glee\nThe Trident wielding deity:\n\u201cWhat treasure first the Gods upturn\nFrom troubled Ocean, as they churn,\nShould\u2014for thou art the eldest\u2014be\nConferred, O best of Gods, on thee.\nThen come, and for thy birthright\u2019s sake,\nThis venom as thy first fruits take.\u201d\nHe spoke, and vanished from their sight,\nWhen \u015aiva saw their wild affright,\nAnd heard his speech by whom is borne\nThe mighty bow of bending horn,(204)\nThe poisoned flood at once he quaffed\nAs \u2019twere the Amrit\u2019s heavenly draught.\nThen from the Gods departing went\n\u015aiva, the Lord pre-eminent.\nThe host of Gods and Asurs still\nKept churning with one heart and will.\nBut Mandar\u2019s mountain, whirling round,\nPierced to the depths below the ground.\nThen Gods and bards in terror flew\nTo him who mighty Madhu slew.\n\u201cHelp of all beings! more than all,\nThe Gods on thee for aid may call.\nWard off, O mighty-armed! our fate,\nAnd bear up Mandar\u2019s threatening weight.\u201d\nThen Vish\u1e47u, as their need was sore,\nThe semblance of a tortoise wore,\nAnd in the bed of Ocean lay\nThe mountain on his back to stay.\nThen he, the soul pervading all,\nWhose locks in radiant tresses fall,\nOne mighty arm extended still,\nAnd grasped the summit of the hill.\nSo ranged among the Immortals, he\nJoined in the churning of the sea.\n\n  A thousand years had reached their close,\nWhen calmly from the ocean rose\nThe gentle sage(205) with staff and can,\nLord of the art of healing man.\nThen as the waters foamed and boiled,\nAs churning still the Immortals toiled,\nOf winning face and lovely frame,\nForth sixty million fair ones came.\nBorn of the foam and water, these\nWere aptly named Apsarases.(206)\nEach had her maids. The tongue would fail\u2014\nSo vast the throng\u2014to count the tale.\nBut when no God or Titan wooed\nA wife from all that multitude,\nRefused by all, they gave their love\nIn common to the Gods above.\nThen from the sea still vext and wild\nRose Sur\u00e1,(207) Varu\u1e47\u2019s maiden child.\nA fitting match she sought to find:\nBut Diti\u2019s sons her love declined,\nTheir kinsmen of the rival brood\nTo the pure maid in honour sued.\nHence those who loved that nymph so fair\nThe hallowed name of Suras bear.\nAnd Asurs are the Titan crowd\nHer gentle claims who disallowed.\nThen from the foamy sea was freed\nUchchaih\u015bravas,(208) the generous steed,\nAnd Kaustubha, of gems the gem,(209)\nAnd Soma, Moon God, after them.\n\n  At length when many a year had fled,\nUp floated, on her lotus bed,\nA maiden fair and tender-eyed,\nIn the young flush of beauty\u2019s pride.\nShe shone with pearl and golden sheen,\nAnd seals of glory stamped her queen,\nOn each round arm glowed many a gem,\nOn her smooth brows, a diadem.\nRolling in waves beneath her crown\nThe glory of her hair flowed down,\nPearls on her neck of price untold,\nThe lady shone like burnisht gold.\nQueen of the Gods, she leapt to land,\nA lotus in her perfect hand,\nAnd fondly, of the lotus-sprung,\nTo lotus-bearing Vish\u1e47u clung.\nHer Gods above and men below\nAs Beauty\u2019s Queen and Fortune know.(210)\nGods, Titans, and the minstrel train\nStill churned and wrought the troubled main.\nAt length the prize so madly sought,\nThe Amrit, to their sight was brought.\nFor the rich spoil, \u2019twixt these and those\nA fratricidal war arose,\nAnd, host \u2019gainst host in battle, set,\nAditi\u2019s sons and Diti\u2019s met.\nUnited, with the giants\u2019 aid,\nTheir fierce attack the Titans made,\nAnd wildly raged for many a day\nThat universe-astounding fray.\nWhen wearied arms were faint to strike,\nAnd ruin threatened all alike,\nVish\u1e47u, with art\u2019s illusive aid,\nThe Amrit from their sight conveyed.\nThat Best of Beings smote his foes\nWho dared his deathless arm oppose:\nYea, Vish\u1e47u, all-pervading God,\nBeneath his feet the Titans trod\nAditi\u2019s race, the sons of light,\nslew Diti\u2019s brood in cruel fight.\nThen town-destroying(211) Indra gained\nHis empire, and in glory reigned\nO\u2019er the three worlds with bard and sage\nRejoicing in his heritage.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVI. Diti\u2019s Hope.\n\n\nBut Diti, when her sons were slain,\nWild with a childless mother\u2019s pain,\nTo Ka\u015byap spake, Mar\u00edcha\u2019s son,\nHer husband: \u201cO thou glorious one!\nDead are the children, mine no more,\nThe mighty sons to thee I bore.\nLong fervour\u2019s meed, I crave a boy\nWhose arm may Indra\u2019s life destroy.\nThe toil and pain my care shall be:\nTo bless my hope depends on thee.\nGive me a mighty son to slay\nFierce Indra, gracious lord! I pray.\u201d\n\n  Then glorious Ka\u015byap thus replied\nTo Diti, as she wept and sighed:\n\u201cThy prayer is heard, dear saint! Remain\nPure from all spot, and thou shalt gain\nA son whose arm shall take the life\nOf Indra in the battle strife.\nFor full a thousand years endure\nFree from all stain, supremely pure;\nThen shall thy son and mine appear,\nWhom the three worlds shall serve with fear.\u201d\nThese words the glorious Ka\u015byap said,\nThen gently stroked his consort\u2019s head,\nBlessed her, and bade a kind adieu,\nAnd turned him to his rites anew.\nSoon as her lord had left her side,\nHer bosom swelled with joy and pride.\nShe sought the shade of holy boughs,\nAnd there began her awful vows.\nWhile yet she wrought her rites austere,\nIndra, unbidden, hastened near,\nWith sweet observance tending her,\nA reverential minister.\nWood, water, fire, and grass he brought,\nSweet roots and woodland fruit he sought,\nAnd all her wants, the Thousand-eyed,\nWith never-failing care, supplied,\nWith tender love and soft caress\nRemoving pain and weariness.\n\n  When, of the thousand years ordained,\nTen only unfulfilled remained,\nThus to her son, the Thousand-eyed,\nThe Goddess in her triumph cried:\n\u201cBest of the mighty! there remain\nBut ten short years of toil and pain;\nThese years of penance soon will flee,\nAnd a new brother thou shalt see.\nHim for thy sake I\u2019ll nobly breed,\nAnd lust of war his soul shall feed;\nThen free from care and sorrow thou\nShalt see the worlds before him bow.\u201d(212)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVII. Sumati.\n\n\nThus to Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed,\nSoftly beseeching Diti sighed.\nWhen but a blighted bud was left,\nWhich Indra\u2019s hand in seven had cleft:(213)\n\u201cNo fault, O Lord of Gods, is thine;\nThe blame herein is only mine.\nBut for one grace I fain would pray,\nAs thou hast reft this hope away.\nThis bud, O Indra, which a blight\nHas withered ere it saw the light\u2014\nFrom this may seven fair spirits rise\nTo rule the regions of the skies.\nBe theirs through heaven\u2019s unbounded space\nOn shoulders of the winds to race,\nMy children, drest in heavenly forms,\nFar-famed as Maruts, Gods of storms.\nOne God to Brahm\u00e1\u2019s sphere assign,\nLet one, O Indra, watch o\u2019er thine;\nAnd ranging through the lower air,\nThe third the name of V\u00e1yu(214) bear.\nGods let the four remaining be,\nAnd roam through space, obeying thee.\u201d\n\n  The Town-destroyer, Thousand-eyed,\nWho smote fierce Bali till he died,\nJoined suppliant hands, and thus replied:\n\u201cThy children heavenly forms shall wear;\nThe names devised by thee shall bear,\nAnd, Maruts called by my decree,\nShall Amrit drink and wait on me.\nFrom fear and age and sickness freed,\nThrough the three worlds their wings shall speed.\u201d\n\n  Thus in the hermits\u2019 holy shade\nMother and son their compact made,\nAnd then, as fame relates, content,\nHome to the happy skies they went.\nThis is the spot\u2014so men have told\u2014\nWhere Lord Mahendra(215) dwelt of old,\nThis is the blessed region where\nHis votaress mother claimed his care.\nHere gentle Alamb\u00fash\u00e1 bare\nTo old Ikshv\u00e1ku, king and sage,\nVi\u015b\u00e1la, glory of his age,\nBy whom, a monarch void of guilt,\nWas this fair town Vi\u015b\u00e1l\u00e1 built.\nHis son was Hemachandra, still\nRenowned for might and warlike skill.\nFrom him the great Suchandra came;\nHis son, Dh\u00famr\u00e1\u015bva, dear to fame.\nNext followed royal Srinjay; then\nFamed Sahadeva, lord of men.\nNext came Ku\u015b\u00e1\u015bva, good and mild,\nWhose son was Somadatta styled,\nAnd Sumati, his heir, the peer\nOf Gods above, now governs here.\nAnd ever through Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s grace,\nVi\u015b\u00e1l\u00e1\u2019s kings, his noble race,\nAre lofty-souled, and blest with length\nOf days, with virtue, and with strength.\nThis night, O prince, we here will sleep;\nAnd when the day begins to peep,\nOur onward way will take with thee,\nThe king of M\u00edthil\u00e1 to see.\u201d\n\n  Then Sumati, the king, aware\nOf Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s advent there,\nCame quickly forth with honour meet\nThe lofty-minded sage to greet.\nGirt with his priest and lords the king\nDid low obeisance, worshipping,\nWith suppliant hands, with head inclined,\nThus spoke he after question kind;\n\u201cSince thou hast deigned to bless my sight,\n  And grace awhile thy servant\u2019s seat,\nHigh fate is mine, great Anchorite,\n  And none may with my bliss compete.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVIII. Indra And Ahaly\u00e1\n\n\nWhen mutual courtesies had past,\nVi\u015b\u00e1l\u00e1\u2019s ruler spoke at last:\n\u201cThese princely youths, O Sage, who vie\nIn might with children of the sky,\nHeroic, born for happy fate,\nWith elephants\u2019 or lions\u2019 gait,\nBold as the tiger or the bull,\nWith lotus eyes so large and full,\nArmed with the quiver, sword, and bow,\nWhose figures like the A\u015bvins(216) show,\nLike children of the deathless Powers,\nCome freely to these shades of ours,(217)\u2014\nHow have they reached on foot this place?\nWhat do they seek, and what their race?\nAs sun and moon adorn the sky,\nThis spot the heroes glorify.\nAlike in stature, port, and mien,\nThe same fair form in each is seen,\u201d\n\n  He spoke; and at the monarch\u2019s call\nThe best of hermits told him all,\nHow in the grove with him they dwelt,\nAnd slaughter to the demons dealt.\nThen wonder filled the monarch\u2019s breast,\nWho tended well each royal guest.\nThus entertained, the princely pair\nRemained that night and rested there,\nAnd with the morn\u2019s returning ray\nTo Mithil\u00e1 pursued their way.\n\n  When Janak\u2019s lovely city first\nUpon their sight, yet distant, burst,\nThe hermits all with joyful cries\nHailed the fair town that met their eyes.\nThen R\u00e1ma saw a holy wood,\nClose, in the city\u2019s neighbourhood,\nO\u2019ergrown, deserted, marked by age,\nAnd thus addressed the mighty sage:\n\u201cO reverend lord. I long to know\nWhat hermit dwelt here long ago.\u201d\nThen to the prince his holy guide,\nMost eloquent of men, replied:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, listen while I tell\nWhose was this grove, and what befell\nWhen in the fury of his rage\nThe high saint cursed the hermitage.\nThis was the grove\u2014most lovely then\u2014\nOf Gautam, O thou best of men,\nLike heaven itself, most honoured by\nThe Gods who dwell above the sky.\nHere with Ahaly\u00e1 at his side\nHis fervid task the ascetic plied.\nYears fled in thousands. On a day\nIt chanced the saint had gone away,\nWhen Town-destroying Indra came,\nAnd saw the beauty of the dame.\nThe sage\u2019s form the God endued,\nAnd thus the fair Ahaly\u00e1 wooed:\n\u201cLove, sweet! should brook no dull delay\nBut snatch the moments when he may.\u201d\nShe knew him in the saint\u2019s disguise,\nLord Indra of the Thousand Eyes,\nBut touched by love\u2019s unholy fire,\nShe yielded to the God\u2019s desire.\n\n  \u201cNow, Lord of Gods!\u201d she whispered, \u201cflee,\nFrom Gautam save thyself and me.\u201d\nTrembling with doubt and wild with dread\nLord Indra from the cottage fled;\nBut fleeing in the grove he met\nThe home-returning anchoret,\nWhose wrath the Gods and fiends would shun,\nSuch power his fervent rites had won.\nFresh from the lustral flood he came,\nIn splendour like the burning flame,\nWith fuel for his sacred rites,\nAnd grass, the best of eremites.\nThe Lord of Gods was sad of cheer\nTo see the mighty saint so near,\nAnd when the holy hermit spied\nIn hermit\u2019s garb the Thousand-eyed,\nHe knew the whole, his fury broke\nForth on the sinner as he spoke:\n  \u201cBecause my form thou hast assumed,\nAnd wrought this folly, thou art doomed,\nFor this my curse to thee shall cling,\nHenceforth a sad and sexless thing.\u201d\n\n  No empty threat that sentence came,\nIt chilled his soul and marred his frame,\nHis might and godlike vigour fled,\nAnd every nerve was cold and dead.\n\n  Then on his wife his fury burst,\nAnd thus the guilty dame he cursed:\n\u201cFor countless years, disloyal spouse,\nDevoted to severest vows,\nThy bed the ashes, air thy food,\nHere shalt thou live in solitude.\nThis lonely grove thy home shall be,\nAnd not an eye thy form shall see.\nWhen R\u00e1ma, Da\u015baratha\u2019s child,\nShall seek these shades then drear and wild,\nHis coming shall remove thy stain,\nAnd make the sinner pure again.\nDue honour paid to him, thy guest,\nShall cleanse thy fond and erring breast,\nThee to my side in bliss restore,\nAnd give thy proper shape once more.\u201d(218)\n\n  Thus to his guilty wife he said,\nThen far the holy Gautam fled,\nAnd on Him\u00e1laya\u2019s lovely heights\nSpent the long years in sternest rites.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIX. Ahaly\u00e1 Freed.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, following still his guide,\nWithin the grove, with Lakshma\u1e47, hied,\nHer vows a wondrous light had lent\nTo that illustrious penitent.\nHe saw the glorious lady, screened\nFrom eye of man, and God, and fiend,\nLike some bright portent which the care\nOf Brahm\u00e1 launches through the air,\nDesigned by his illusive art\nTo flash a moment and depart:\nOr like the flame that leaps on high\nTo sink involved in smoke and die:\nOr like the full moon shining through\nThe wintry mist, then lost to view:\nOr like the sun\u2019s reflection, cast\nUpon the flood, too bright to last:\nSo was the glorious dame till then\nRemoved from Gods\u2019 and mortals\u2019 ken,\nTill\u2014such was Gautam\u2019s high decree\u2014\nPrince R\u00e1ma came to set her free.\n\n  Then, with great joy that dame to meet,\nThe sons of Raghu clapped her feet;\nAnd she, remembering Gautam\u2019s oath,\nWith gentle grace received them both;\nThen water for their feet she gave,\nGuest-gift, and all that strangers crave.\n\n  The prince, of courteous rule aware,\nReceived, as meet, the lady\u2019s care.\nThen flowers came down in copious rain,\nAnd moving to the heavenly strain\nOf music in the skies that rang,\nThe nymphs and minstrels danced and sang:\nAnd all the Gods with one glad voice\nPraised the great dame, and cried, \u201cRejoice!\nThrough fervid rites no more defiled,\nBut with thy husband reconciled.\u201d\nGautam, the holy hermit knew\u2014\nFor naught escaped his godlike view\u2014\nThat R\u00e1ma lodged beneath that shade,\nAnd hasting there his homage paid.\nHe took Ahaly\u00e1 to his side,\nFrom sin and folly purified,\nAnd let his new-found consort bear\nIn his austerities a share.\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, pride of Raghu\u2019s race,\nWelcomed by Gautam, face to face,\nWho every highest honour showed,\nTo Mithil\u00e1 pursued his road.\n\n\n\n\nCanto L. Janak.\n\n\nThe sons of Raghu journeyed forth,\nBending their steps \u2019twixt east and north.\nSoon, guided by the sage, they found,\nEnclosed, a sacrificial ground.\nThen to the best of saints, his guide,\nIn admiration R\u00e1ma cried:\n\n  \u201cThe high-souled king no toil has spared,\nBut nobly for his rite prepared,\nHow many thousand Br\u00e1hmans here,\nFrom every region, far and near,\nWell read in holy lore, appear!\nHow many tents, that sages screen,\nWith wains in hundreds, here are seen!\nGreat Br\u00e1hman, let us find a place\nWhere we may stay and rest a space.\u201d\nThe hermit did as R\u00e1ma prayed,\nAnd in a spot his lodging made,\nFar from the crowd, sequestered, clear,\nWith copious water flowing near.\n\n  Then Janak, best of kings, aware\nOf Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra lodging there,\nWith \u015aat\u00e1nanda for his guide\u2014\nThe priest on whom he most relied,\nHis chaplain void of guile and stain\u2014\nAnd others of his priestly train,\nBearing the gift that greets the guest,\nTo meet him with all honour pressed.\nThe saint received with gladsome mind\nEach honour and observance kind:\nThen of his health he asked the king,\nAnd how his rites were prospering,\nJanak, with chaplain and with priest,\nAddressed the hermits, chief and least,\nAccosting all, in due degree,\nWith proper words of courtesy.\nThen, with his palms together laid,\nThe king his supplication made:\n\u201cDeign, reverend lord, to sit thee down\nWith these good saints of high renown.\u201d\nThen sate the chief of hermits there,\nObedient to the monarch\u2019s prayer.\nChaplain and priest, and king and peer,\nSate in their order, far or near.\nThen thus the king began to say:\n\u201cThe Gods have blest my rite to-day,\nAnd with the sight of thee repaid\nThe preparations I have made.\nGrateful am I, so highly blest,\nThat thou, of saints the holiest,\nHast come, O Br\u00e1hman, here with all\nThese hermits to the festival.\nTwelve days, O Br\u00e1hman Sage, remain\u2014\nFor so the learned priests ordain\u2014\nAnd then, O heir of Ku\u015bik\u2019s name,\nThe Gods will come their dues to claim.\u201d\n\n  With looks that testified delight\nThus spake he to the anchorite,\nThen with his suppliant hands upraised,\nHe asked, as earnestly he gazed:\n\u201cThese princely youths, O Sage, who vie\nIn might with children of the sky,\nHeroic, born for happy fate,\nWith elephants\u2019 or lions\u2019 gait,\nBold as the tiger and the bull,\nWith lotus eyes so large and full,\nArmed with the quiver, sword and bow,\nWhose figures like the A\u015bvins show,\nLike children of the heavenly Powers,\nCome freely to these shades of ours,\u2014\nHow have they reached on foot this place?\nWhat do they seek, and what their race?\nAs sun and moon adorn the sky,\nThis spot the heroes glorify:\nAlike in stature, port, and mien,\nThe same fair form in each is seen.\u201d(219)\n\n  Thus spoke the monarch, lofty-souled,\nThe saint, of heart unfathomed, told\nHow, sons of Da\u015baratha, they\nAccompanied his homeward way,\nHow in the hermitage they dwelt,\nAnd slaughter to the demons dealt:\nTheir journey till the spot they neared\nWhence fair Vi\u015b\u00e1l\u00e1\u2019s towers appeared:\nAhaly\u00e1 seen and freed from taint;\nTheir meeting with her lord the saint;\nAnd how they thither came, to know\nThe virtue of the famous bow.\n\n  Thus Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra spoke the whole\nTo royal Janak, great of soul,\nAnd when this wondrous tale was o\u2019er,\nThe glorious hermit said no more.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LI. Visv\u00e1mitra.\n\n\nWise Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s tale was done:\nThen sainted Gautam\u2019s eldest son,\nGreat \u015aat\u00e1nanda, far-renowned,\nWhom long austerities had crowned\nWith glory\u2014as the news he heard\nThe down upon his body stirred,\u2014\nFilled full of wonder at the sight\nOf R\u00e1ma, felt supreme delight.\nWhen \u015aat\u00e1nanda saw the pair\nOf youthful princes seated there,\nHe turned him to the holy man\nWho sate at ease, and thus began:\n\u201cAnd didst thou, mighty Sage, in truth\nShow clearly to this royal youth\nMy mother, glorious far and wide,\nWhom penance-rites have sanctified?\nAnd did my glorious mother\u2014she,\nHeiress of noble destiny\u2014\nServe her great guest with woodland store,\nWhom all should honour evermore?\nDidst thou the tale to R\u00e1ma tell\nOf what in ancient days befell,\nThe sin, the misery, and the shame\nOf guilty God and faithless dame?\nAnd, O thou best of hermits, say,\nDid R\u00e1ma\u2019s healing presence stay\nHer trial? was the wife restored\nAgain to him, my sire and lord?\nSay, Hermit, did that sire of mine\nReceive her with a soul benign,\nWhen long austerities in time\nHad cleansed her from the taint of crime?\nAnd, son of Ku\u015bik, let me know,\nDid my great-minded father show\nHonour to R\u00e1ma, and regard,\nBefore he journeyed hitherward?\u201d\nThe hermit with attentive ear\nMarked all the questions of the seer:\nTo him for eloquence far-famed,\nHis eloquent reply he framed:\n\u201cYea, \u2019twas my care no task to shun,\nAnd all I had to do was done;\nAs Re\u1e47uk\u00e1 and Bhrigu\u2019s child,\nThe saint and dame were reconciled.\u201d\n\n  When the great sage had thus replied,\nTo R\u00e1ma \u015aat\u00e1nanda cried:\n\u201cA welcome visit, Prince, is thine,\nThou scion of King Raghu\u2019s line.\nWith him to guide thy way aright,\nThis sage invincible in might,\nThis Br\u00e1hman sage, most glorious-bright,\nBy long austerities has wrought\nA wondrous deed, exceeding thought:\nThou knowest well, O strong of arm,\nThis sure defence from scathe and harm.\nNone, R\u00e1ma, none is living now\nIn all the earth more blest than thou,\nThat thou hast won a saint so tried\nIn fervid rites thy life to guide.\nNow listen, Prince, while I relate\nHis lofty deeds and wondrous fate.\nHe was a monarch pious-souled.\nHis foemen in the dust he rolled;\nMost learned, prompt at duty\u2019s claim,\nHis people\u2019s good his joy and aim.\n\n  Of old the Lord of Life gave birth\nTo mighty Ku\u015ba, king of earth.\nHis son was Ku\u015ban\u00e1bha, strong,\nFriend of the right, the foe of wrong.\nG\u00e1dhi, whose fame no time shall dim,\nHeir of his throne was born to him,\nAnd Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, G\u00e1dhi\u2019s heir,\nGoverned the land with kingly care.\nWhile years unnumbered rolled away\nThe monarch reigned with equal sway.\nAt length, assembling many a band,\nHe led his warriors round the land\u2014\nComplete in tale, a mighty force,\nCars, elephants, and foot, and horse.\nThrough cities, groves, and floods he passed,\nO\u2019er lofty hills, through regions vast.\nHe reached Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s pure abode,\nWhere trees, and flowers, and creepers glowed,\nWhere troops of sylvan creatures fed;\nWhich saints and angels visited.\nGods, fauns, and bards of heavenly race,\nAnd spirits, glorified the place;\nThe deer their timid ways forgot,\nAnd holy Br\u00e1hmans thronged the spot.\nBright in their souls, like fire, were these,\nMade pure by long austerities,\nBound by the rule of vows severe,\nAnd each in glory Brahm\u00e1\u2019s peer.\nSome fed on water, some on air,\nSome on the leaves that withered there.\nRoots and wild fruit were others\u2019 food;\nAll rage was checked, each sense subdued,\nThere B\u00e1lakhilyas(220) went and came,\nNow breathed the prayer, now fed the flame:\nThese, and ascetic bands beside,\nThe sweet retirement beautified.\nSuch was Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s blest retreat,\nLike Brahm\u00e1\u2019s own celestial seat,\nWhich gladdened Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s eyes,\nPeerless for warlike enterprise.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LII. Vasishtha\u2019s Feast.\n\n\nRight glad was Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra when\nHe saw the prince of saintly men.\nLow at his feet the hero bent,\nAnd did obeisance, reverent.\n\n  The king was welcomed in, and shown\nA seat beside the hermit\u2019s own,\nWho offered him, when resting there,\nFruit in due course, and woodland fare.\nAnd Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, noblest king,\nReceived Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s welcoming,\nTurned to his host, and prayed him tell\nThat he and all with him were well.\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha to the king replied\nThat all was well on every side,\nThat fire, and vows, and pupils throve,\nAnd all the trees within the grove.\nAnd then the son of Brahm\u00e1, best\nOf all who pray with voice suppressed,\nQuestioned with pleasant words like these\nThe mighty king who sate at ease:\n\u201cAnd is it well with thee? I pray;\nAnd dost thou win by virtuous sway\nThy people\u2019s love, discharging all\nThe duties on a king that fall?\nAre all thy servants fostered well?\nDo all obey, and none rebel?\nHast thou, destroyer of the foe,\nNo enemies to overthrow?\nDoes fortune, conqueror! still attend\nThy treasure, host, and every friend?\nIs it all well? Does happy fate\nOn sons and children\u2019s children wait?\u201d\n\n  He spoke. The modest king replied\nThat all was prosperous far and wide.\n\nThus for awhile the two conversed,\nAs each to each his tale rehearsed,\nAnd as the happy moments flew,\nTheir joy and friendship stronger grew.\nWhen such discourse had reached an end,\nThus spoke the saint most reverend\nTo royal Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, while\nHis features brightened with a smile:\n\u201cO mighty lord of men. I fain\nWould banquet thee and all thy train\nIn mode that suits thy station high:\nAnd do not thou my prayer deny.\nLet my good lord with favour take\nThe offering that I fain would make,\nAnd let me honour, ere we part,\nMy royal guest with loving heart.\u201d\n\n  Him Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra thus addressed:\n\u201cWhy make, O Saint, this new request?\nThy welcome and each gracious word\nSufficient honour have conferred.\nThou gavest roots and fruit to eat,\nThe treasures of this pure retreat,\nAnd water for my mouth and feet;\nAnd\u2014boon I prize above the rest\u2014\nThy presence has mine eyesight blest.\nHonoured by thee in every way,\nTo whom all honour all should pay,\nI now will go. My lord, Good-bye!\nRegard me with a friendly eye.\u201d\n\n  Him speaking thus Va\u015bish\u1e6dha stayed,\nAnd still to share his banquet prayed.\nThe will of G\u00e1dhi\u2019s son he bent,\nAnd won the monarch to consent,\nWho spoke in answer. \u201cLet it be,\nGreat Hermit, as it pleases thee.\u201d\nWhen, best of those who breathe the prayer,\nHe heard the king his will declare,\nHe called the cow of spotted skin,\nAll spot without, all pure within.\n\u201cCome, Dapple-skin,\u201d he cried, \u201cwith speed;\nHear thou my words and help at need.\nMy heart is set to entertain\nThis monarch and his mighty train\nWith sumptuous meal and worthy fare;\nBe thine the banquet to prepare.\nEach dainty cate, each goodly dish,\nOf six-fold taste(221) as each may wish\u2014\nAll these, O cow of heavenly power,\nRain down for me in copious shower:\nViands and drink for tooth and lip,\nTo eat, to suck, to quaff, to sip\u2014\nOf these sufficient, and to spare,\nO plenty-giving cow, prepare.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIII. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Request.\n\n\nThus charged, O slayer of thy foes,\nThe cow from whom all plenty flows,\nObedient to her saintly lord,\nViands to suit each taste, outpoured.\nHoney she gave, and roasted grain,\nMead sweet with flowers, and sugar-cane.\nEach beverage of flavour rare,\nAn food of every sort, were there:\nHills of hot rice, and sweetened cakes,\nAnd curdled milk and soup in lakes.\nVast beakers foaming to the brim\nWith sugared drink prepared for him,\nAnd dainty sweetmeats, deftly made,\nBefore the hermit\u2019s guests were laid.\nSo well regaled, so nobly fed,\nThe mighty army banqueted,\nAnd all the train, from chief to least,\nDelighted in Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s feast.\nThen Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, royal sage,\nSurrounded by his vassalage,\nPrince, peer, and counsellor, and all\nFrom highest lord to lowest thrall,\nThus feasted, to Va\u015bish\u1e6dha cried\nWith joy, supremely gratified:\n\u201cRich honour I, thus entertained,\nMost honourable lord, have gained:\nNow hear, before I journey hence,\nMy words, O skilled in eloquence.\nBought for a hundred thousand kine,\nLet Dapple-skin, O Saint, be mine.\nA wondrous jewel is thy cow,\nAnd gems are for the monarch\u2019s brow.(222)\nTo me her rightful lord resign\nThis Dapple-skin thou callest thine.\u201d\n\n  The great Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, thus addressed,\nArch-hermit of the holy breast,\nTo Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra answer made,\nThe king whom all the land obeyed:\n\u201cNot for a hundred thousand,\u2014nay,\nNot if ten million thou wouldst pay,\nWith silver heaps the price to swell,\u2014\nWill I my cow, O Monarch, sell.\nUnmeet for her is such a fate.\nThat I my friend should alienate.\nAs glory with the virtuous, she\nFor ever makes her home with me.\nOn her mine offerings which ascend\nTo Gods and spirits all depend:\nMy very life is due to her,\nMy guardian, friend, and minister.\nThe feeding of the sacred flame,(223)\nThe dole which living creatures claim.(224)\nThe mighty sacrifice by fire,\nEach formula the rites require,(225)\nAnd various saving lore beside,\nAre by her aid, in sooth, supplied.\nThe banquet which thy host has shared,\nBelieve it, was by her prepared,\nIn her mine only treasures lie,\nShe cheers mine heart and charms mine eye.\nAnd reasons more could I assign\nWhy Dapple-skin can ne\u2019er be thine.\u201d\n\n  The royal sage, his suit denied,\nWith eloquence more earnest cried:\n\u201cTusked elephants, a goodly train,\nEach with a golden girth and chain,\nWhose goads with gold well fashioned shine\u2014\nOf these be twice seven thousand thine.\nAnd four-horse cars with gold made bright,\nWith steeds most beautifully white,\nWhose bells make music as they go,\nEight hundred, Saint, will I bestow.\nEleven thousand mettled steeds\nFrom famous lands, of noble breeds\u2014\nThese will I gladly give, O thou\nDevoted to each holy vow.\nTen million heifers, fair to view,\nWhose sides are marked with every hue\u2014\nThese in exchange will I assign;\nBut let thy Dapple-skin be mine.\nAsk what thou wilt, and piles untold\nOf priceless gems and gleaming gold,\nO best of Br\u00e1hmans, shall be thine;\nBut let thy Dapple-skin be mine.\u201d\n\n  The great Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, thus addressed,\nMade answer to the king\u2019s request:\n\u201cNe\u2019er will I give my cow away,\nMy gem, my wealth, my life and stay.\nMy worship at the moon\u2019s first show,\nAnd at the full, to her I owe;\nAnd sacrifices small and great,\nWhich largess due and gifts await.\nFrom her alone, their root, O King,\nMy rites and holy service spring.\nWhat boots it further words to say?\nI will not give my cow away\nWho yields me what I ask each day.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIV. The Battle.\n\n\nAs Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha answered so,\nNor let the cow of plenty go,\nThe monarch, as a last resource,\nBegan to drag her off by force.\nWhile the king\u2019s servants tore away\nTheir moaning, miserable prey,\nSad, sick at heart, and sore distressed,\nShe pondered thus within her breast:\n\u201cWhy am I thus forsaken? why\nBetrayed by him of soul most high.\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, ravished by the hands\nOf soldiers of the monarch\u2019s bands?\nAh me! what evil have I done\nAgainst the lofty-minded one,\nThat he, so pious, can expose\nThe innocent whose love he knows?\u201d\nIn her sad breast as thus she thought,\nAnd heaved deep sighs with anguish fraught,\nWith wondrous speed away she fled,\nAnd back to Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha sped.\nShe hurled by hundreds to the ground\nThe menial crew that hemmed her round,\nAnd flying swifter than the blast\nBefore the saint herself she cast.\nThere Dapple-skin before the saint\nStood moaning forth her sad complaint,\nAnd wept and lowed: such tones as come\nFrom wandering cloud or distant drum.\n\u201cO son of Brahm\u00e1,\u201d thus cried she,\n\u201cWhy hast thou thus forsaken me,\nThat the king\u2019s men, before thy face,\nBear off thy servant from her place?\u201d\n\n  Then thus the Br\u00e1hman saint replied\nTo her whose heart with woe was tried,\nAnd grieving for his favourite\u2019s sake,\nAs to a suffering sister spake:\n\u201cI leave thee not: dismiss the thought;\nNor, duteous, hast thou failed in aught.\nThis king, o\u2019erweening in the pride\nOf power, has reft thee from my side.\nLittle, I ween, my strength could do\n\u2019Gainst him, a mighty warrior too.\nStrong, as a soldier born and bred,\u2014\nGreat, as a king whom regions dread.\nSee! what a host the conqueror leads,\nWith elephants, and cars, and steeds.\nO\u2019er countless bands his pennons fly;\nSo is he mightier far than I.\u201d\nHe spoke. Then she, in lowly mood,\nTo that high saint her speech renewed:\n\u201cSo judge not they who wisest are:\nThe Br\u00e1hman\u2019s might is mightier far.\nFor Br\u00e1hmans strength from Heaven derive,\nAnd warriors bow when Br\u00e1hmans strive.\nA boundless power \u2019tis thine to wield:\nTo such a king thou shouldst not yield,\nWho, very mighty though he be,\u2014\nSo fierce thy strength,\u2014must bow to thee.\nCommand me, Saint. Thy power divine\nHas brought me here and made me thine;\nAnd I, howe\u2019er the tyrant boast,\nWill tame his pride and slay his host.\u201d\nThen cried the glorious sage: \u201cCreate\nA mighty force the foe to mate.\u201d\n\n  She lowed, and quickened into life,\nPahlavas,(226) burning for the strife,\nKing Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s army slew\nBefore the very leader\u2019s view.\nThe monarch in excessive ire,\nHis eyes with fury darting fire,\nRained every missile on the foe\nTill all the Pahlavas were low.\nShe, seeing all her champions slain,\nLying by thousands on the plain.\nCreated, by her mere desire,\nYavans and \u015aakas, fierce and dire.\nAnd all the ground was overspread\nWith Yavans and with \u015aakas dread:\nA host of warriors bright and strong,\nAnd numberless in closest throng:\nThe threads within the lotus stem,\nSo densely packed, might equal them.\nIn gold-hued mail \u2019against war\u2019s attacks,\nEach bore a sword and battle-axe,\nThe royal host, where\u2019er these came,\nFell as if burnt with ravening flame.\n\n  The monarch, famous through the world\nAgain his fearful weapons hurled,\nThat made K\u00e1mbojas,(227) Barbars,(228) all,\nWith Yavans, troubled, flee and fall.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.\n\n\nSo o\u2019er the field that host lay strown,\nBy Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s darts o\u2019erthrown.\nThen thus Va\u015bish\u1e6dha charged the cow:\n\u201cCreate with all thy vigour now.\u201d\n\n  Forth sprang K\u00e1mbojas, as she lowed;\nBright as the sun their faces glowed,\nForth from her udder Barbars poured,\u2014\nSoldiers who brandished spear and sword,\u2014\nAnd Yavans with their shafts and darts,\nAnd \u015aakas from her hinder parts.\nAnd every pore upon her fell,\nAnd every hair-producing cell,\nWith Mlechchhas(229) and Kir\u00e1tas(230) teemed,\nAnd forth with them H\u00e1r\u00edtas streamed.\nAnd Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s mighty force,\nCar, elephant, and foot, and horse,\nFell in a moment\u2019s time, subdued\nBy that tremendous multitude.\nThe monarch\u2019s hundred sons, whose eyes\nBeheld the rout in wild surprise,\nArmed with all weapons, mad with rage,\nRushed fiercely on the holy sage.\nOne cry he raised, one glance he shot,\nAnd all fell scorched upon the spot:\nBurnt by the sage to ashes, they\nWith horse, and foot, and chariot, lay.\nThe monarch mourned, with shame and pain,\nHis army lost, his children slain,\nLike Ocean when his roar is hushed,\nOr some great snake whose fangs are crushed:\nOr as in swift eclipse the Sun\nDark with the doom he cannot shun:\nOr a poor bird with mangled wing\u2014\nSo, reft of sons and host, the king\nNo longer, by ambition fired,\nThe pride of war his breast inspired.\nHe gave his empire to his son\u2014\nOf all he had, the only one:\nAnd bade him rule as kings are taught\nThen straight a hermit-grove he sought.\nFar to Him\u00e1laya\u2019s side he fled,\nWhich bards and N\u00e1gas visited,\nAnd, Mah\u00e1deva\u2019s(231) grace to earn,\nHe gave his life to penance stern.\nA lengthened season thus passed by,\nWhen \u015aiva\u2019s self, the Lord most High,\nWhose banner shows the pictured bull,(232)\nAppeared, the God most bountiful:\n\n  \u201cWhy fervent thus in toil and pain?\nWhat brings thee here? what boon to gain?\nThy heart\u2019s desire, O Monarch, speak:\nI grant the boons which mortals seek.\u201d\nThe king, his adoration paid,\nTo Mah\u00e1deva answer made:\n\u201cIf thou hast deemed me fit to win\nThy favour, O thou void of sin,\nOn me, O mighty God, bestow\nThe wondrous science of the bow,\nAll mine, complete in every part,\nWith secret spell and mystic art.\nTo me be all the arms revealed\nThat Gods, and saints, and Titans wield,\nAnd every dart that arms the hands\nOf spirits, fiends and minstrel bands,\nBe mine, O Lord supreme in place,\nThis token of thy boundless grace.\u201d\n\n  The Lord of Gods then gave consent,\nAnd to his heavenly mansion went.\nTriumphant in the arms he held,\nThe monarch\u2019s breast with glory swelled.\nSo swells the ocean, when upon\nHis breast the full moon\u2019s beams have shone.\nAlready in his mind he viewed\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha at his feet subdued.\nHe sought that hermit\u2019s grove, and there\nLaunched his dire weapons through the air,\nTill scorched by might that none could stay\nThe hermitage in ashes lay.\nWhere\u2019er the inmates saw, aghast,\nThe dart that Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra cast,\nTo every side they turned and fled\nIn hundreds forth disquieted.\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s pupils caught the fear,\nAnd every bird and every deer,\nAnd fled in wild confusion forth\nEastward and westward, south and north,\nAnd so Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s holy shade\nA solitary wild was made,\nSilent awhile, for not a sound\nDisturbed the hush that was around.\n\n  Va\u015bish\u1e6dha then, with eager cry,\nCalled, \u201cFear not, friends, nor seek to fly.\nThis son of G\u00e1dhi dies to-day,\nLike hoar-frost in the morning\u2019s ray.\u201d\nThus having said, the glorious sage\nSpoke to the king in words of rage:\n\u201cBecause thou hast destroyed this grove\nWhich long in holy quiet throve,\nBy folly urged to senseless crime,\nNow shalt thou die before thy time.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVI. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Vow.\n\n\nBut Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, at the threat\nOf that illustrious anchoret,\nCried, as he launched with ready hand\nA fiery weapon, \u201cStand, O Stand!\u201d\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, wild with rage and hate,\nRaising, as \u2019twere the Rod of Fate,\nHis mighty Br\u00e1hman wand on high,\nTo Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra made reply:\n\u201cNay, stand, O Warrior thou, and show\nWhat soldier can, \u2019gainst Br\u00e1hman foe.\nO G\u00e1dhi\u2019s son, thy days are told;\nThy pride is tamed, thy dart is cold.\nHow shall a warrior\u2019s puissance dare\nWith Br\u00e1hman\u2019s awful strength compare?\nTo-day, base Warrior, shall thou feel\nThat God-sent might is more than steel.\u201d\nHe raised his Br\u00e1hman staff, nor missed\nThe fiery dart that near him hissed:\nAnd quenched the fearful weapon fell,\nAs flame beneath the billow\u2019s swell.\n\n  Then G\u00e1dhi\u2019s son in fury threw\nLord Varu\u1e47\u2019s arm and Rudra\u2019s too:\nIndra\u2019s fierce bolt that all destroys;\nThat which the Lord of Herds employs:\nThe Human, that which minstrels keep,\nThe deadly Lure, the endless Sleep:\nThe Yawner, and the dart which charms;\nLament and Torture, fearful arms:\nThe Terrible, the dart which dries,\nThe Thunderbolt which quenchless flies,\nAnd Fate\u2019s dread net, and Brahm\u00e1\u2019s noose,\nAnd that which waits for Varu\u1e47\u2019s use:\nThe dart he loves who wields the bow\nPin\u00e1ka, and twin bolts that glow\nWith fury as they flash and fly,\nThe quenchless Liquid and the Dry:\nThe dart of Vengeance, swift to kill:\nThe Goblins\u2019 dart, the Curlew\u2019s Bill:\nThe discus both of Fate and Right,\nAnd Vish\u1e47u\u2019s, of unerring flight:\nThe Wind-God\u2019s dart, the Troubler dread,\nThe weapon named the Horse\u2019s Head.\nFrom his fierce hand two spears were thrown,\nAnd the great mace that smashes bone;\nThe dart of spirits of the air,\nAnd that which Fate exults to bear:\nThe Trident dart which slaughters foes,\nAnd that which hanging skulls compose:(233)\nThese fearful darts in fiery rain\nHe hurled upon the saint amain,\nAn awful miracle to view.\nBut as the ceaseless tempest flew,\nThe sage with wand of God-sent power\nStill swallowed up that fiery shower.\n\n  Then G\u00e1dhi\u2019s son, when these had failed,\nWith Brahm\u00e1\u2019s dart his foe assailed.\nThe Gods, with Indra at their head,\nAnd N\u00e1gas, quailed disquieted,\nAnd saints and minstrels, when they saw\nThe king that awful weapon draw;\nAnd the three worlds were filled with dread,\nAnd trembled as the missile sped.\n\n  The saint, with Br\u00e1hman wand, empowered\nBy lore divine that dart devoured.\nNor could the triple world withdraw\nRapt gazes from that sight of awe;\nFor as he swallowed down the dart\nOf Brahm\u00e1, sparks from every part,\nFrom finest pore and hair-cell, broke\nEnveloped in a veil of smoke.\nThe staff he waved was all aglow\nLike Y\u00e1ma\u2019s sceptre, King below,\nOr like the lurid fire of Fate\nWhose rage the worlds will desolate.\n\n  The hermits, whom that sight had awed,\nExtolled the saint, with hymn and laud:\n\u201cThy power, O Sage, is ne\u2019er in vain:\nNow with thy might thy might restrain.\nBe gracious, Master, and allow\nThe worlds to rest from trouble now;\nFor Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, strong and dread,\nBy thee has been discomfited.\u201d\n\n  Then, thus addressed, the saint, well pleased,\nThe fury of his wrath appeased.\nThe king, o\u2019erpowered and ashamed,\nWith many a deep-drawn sigh exclaimed:\n\u201cAh! Warriors\u2019 strength is poor and slight;\nA Br\u00e1hman\u2019s power is truly might.\nThis Br\u00e1hman staff the hermit held\nThe fury of my darts has quelled.\nThis truth within my heart impressed,\nWith senses ruled and tranquil breast\nMy task austere will I begin,\nAnd Br\u00e1hmanhood will strive to win.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVII. Trisanku.\n\n\nThen with his heart consumed with woe,\nStill brooding on his overthrow\nBy the great saint he had defied,\nAt every breath the monarch sighed.\nForth from his home his queen he led,\nAnd to a land far southward fled.\nThere, fruit and roots his only food,\nHe practised penance, sense-subdued,\nAnd in that solitary spot\nFour virtuous sons the king begot:\nHavishyand, from the offering named,\nAnd Madhushyand, for sweetness famed,\nMah\u00e1rath, chariot-borne in fight,\nAnd Dri\u1e0dhanetra strong of sight.\n\n  A thousand years had passed away,\nWhen Brahm\u00e1, Sire whom all obey,\nAddressed in pleasant words like these\nHim rich in long austerities:\n\u201cThou by the penance, Ku\u015bik\u2019s son,\nA place \u2019mid royal saints hast won.\nPleased with thy constant penance, we\nThis lofty rank assign to thee.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the glorious Lord most High\nFather of earth and air and sky,\nAnd with the Gods around him spread\nHome to his changeless sphere he sped.\nBut Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra scorned the grace,\nAnd bent in shame his angry face.\nBurning with rage, o\u2019erwhelmed with grief,\nThus in his heart exclaimed the chief:\n\u201cNo fruit, I ween, have I secured\nBy strictest penance long endured,\nIf Gods and all the saints decree\nTo make but royal saint of me.\u201d\nThus pondering, he with sense subdued,\nWith sternest zeal his vows renewed.\nThen reigned a monarch, true of soul,\nWho kept each sense in firm control;\nOf old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line he came,\nThat glories in Tri\u015banku\u2019s(234) name.\nWithin his breast, O Raghu\u2019s child,\nArose a longing, strong and wild,\nGreat offerings to the Gods to pay,\nAnd win, alive, to heaven his way.\nHis priest Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s aid he sought,\nAnd told him of his secret thought.\nBut wise Va\u015bish\u1e6dha showed the hope\nWas far beyond the monarch\u2019s scope.\nTri\u015banku then, his suit denied,\nFar to the southern region hied,\nTo beg Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s sons to aid\nThe mighty plan his soul had made.\nThere King Tri\u015banku, far renowned,\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s hundred children found,\nEach on his fervent vows intent,\nFor mind and fame pre\u00ebminent.\nTo these the famous king applied,\nWise children of his holy guide.\nSaluting each in order due.\nHis eyes, for shame, he downward threw,\nAnd reverent hands together pressed,\nThe glorious company addressed:\n\u201cI as a humble suppliant seek\nSuccour of you who aid the weak.\nA mighty offering I would pay,\nBut sage Va\u015bish\u1e6dha answered, Nay.\nBe yours permission to accord,\nAnd to my rites your help afford.\nSons of my guide, to each of you\nWith lowly reverence here I sue;\nTo each, intent on penance-vow,\nO Br\u00e1hmans, low my head I bow,\nAnd pray you each with ready heart\nIn my great rite to bear a part,\nThat in the body I may rise\nAnd dwell with Gods within the skies.\nSons of my guide, none else I see\nCan give what he refuses me.\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s children still depend\nUpon their guide most reverend;\nAnd you, as nearest in degree\nTo him, my deities shall be!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed.\n\n\nTri\u015banku\u2019s speech the hundred heard,\nAnd thus replied, to anger stirred:\n\u201cWhy foolish King, by him denied,\nWhose truthful lips have never lied,\nDost thou transgress his prudent rule,\nAnd seek, for aid, another school?(235)\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s sons have aye relied\nMost surely on their holy guide:\nThen how dost thou, fond Monarch, dare\nTransgress the rule his lips declare?\n\u201cThy wish is vain,\u201d the saint replied,\nAnd bade thee cast the plan aside.\nThen how can we, his sons, pretend\nIn such a rite our aid to lend?\nO Monarch, of the childish heart,\nHome to thy royal town depart.\nThat mighty saint, thy priest and guide,\nAt noblest rites may well preside:\nThe worlds for sacrifice combined\nA worthier priest could never find.\u201d\n\n  Such speech of theirs the monarch heard,\nThough rage distorted every word,\nAnd to the hermits made reply:\n\u201cYou, like your sire, my suit deny.\nFor other aid I turn from you:\nSo, rich in penance, Saints, adieu!\u201d\n\n  Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s children heard, and guessed\nHis evil purpose scarce expressed,\nAnd cried, while rage their bosoms burned,\n\u201cBe to a vile Cha\u1e47\u1e0d\u00e1la(236) turned!\u201d\nThis said, with lofty thoughts inspired,\nEach to his own retreat retired.\n\n  That night Tri\u015banku underwent\nSad change in shape and lineament.\nNext morn, an outcast swart of hue,\nHis dusky cloth he round him drew.\nHis hair had fallen from his head,\nAnd roughness o\u2019er his skin was spread.\nSuch wreaths adorned him as are found\nTo flourish on the funeral ground.\nEach armlet was an iron ring:\nSuch was the figure of the king,\nThat every counsellor and peer,\nAnd following townsman, fled in fear.\n\n  Alone, unyielding to dismay,\nThough burnt by anguish night and day,\nGreat Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s side he sought,\nWhose treasures were by penance bought.\n\n  The hermit with his tender eyes\nLooked on Tri\u015banku\u2019s altered guise,\nAnd grieving at his ruined state\nAddressed him thus, compassionate:\n\u201cGreat King,\u201d the pious hermit said,\n\u201cWhat cause thy steps has hither led,\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s mighty Sovereign, whom\nA curse has plagued with outcast\u2019s doom?\u201d\nIn vile Cha\u1e47\u1e0d\u00e1la(237) shape, the king\nHeard Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s questioning,\nAnd, suppliant palm to palm applied,\nWith answering eloquence he cried:\n\u201cMy priest and all his sons refused\nTo aid the plan on which I mused.\nFailing to win the boon I sought,\nTo this condition I was brought.\nI, in the body, Saint, would fain\nA mansion in the skies obtain.\nI planned a hundred rites for this,\nBut still was doomed the fruit to miss.\nPure are my lips from falsehood\u2019s stain,\nAnd pure they ever shall remain,\u2014\nYea, by a Warrior\u2019s faith I swear,\u2014\nThough I be tried with grief and care.\nUnnumbered rites to Heaven I paid,\nWith righteous care the sceptre swayed;\nAnd holy priest and high-souled guide\nMy modest conduct gratified.\nBut, O thou best of hermits, they\nOppose my wish these rites to pay;\nThey one and all refuse consent,\nNor aid me in my high intent.\nFate is, I ween, the power supreme,\nMan\u2019s effort but an idle dream,\nFate whirls our plans, our all away;\nFate is our only hope and stay;\nNow deign, O blessed Saint, to aid\nMe, even me by Fate betrayed,\nWho come, a suppliant, sore distressed,\nOne grace, O Hermit, to request.\nNo other hope or way I see:\nNo other refuge waits for me.\nOh, aid me in my fallen state,\nAnd human will shall conquer Fate.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIX. The Sons Of Vasishtha.\n\n\nThen Ku\u015bik\u2019s son, by pity warmed,\nSpoke sweetly to the king transformed:\n\u201cHail! glory of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line:\nI know how bright thy virtues shine.\nDismiss thy fear, O noblest Chief,\nFor I myself will bring relief.\nThe holiest saints will I invite\nTo celebrate thy purposed rite:\nSo shall thy vow, O King, succeed,\nAnd from thy cares shalt thou be freed.\nThou in the form which now thou hast,\nTransfigured by the curse they cast,\u2014\nYea, in the body, King, shalt flee,\nTransported, where thou fain wouldst be.\nO Lord of men, I ween that thou\nHast heaven within thy hand e\u2019en now,\nFor very wisely hast thou done,\nAnd refuge sought with Ku\u015bik\u2019s son.\u201d\n\n  Thus having said, the sage addressed\nHis sons, of men the holiest,\nAnd bade the prudent saints whate\u2019er\nWas needed for the rite prepare.\nThe pupils he was wont to teach\nHe summoned next, and spoke this speech:\n\u201cGo bid Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019a sons appear,\nAnd all the saints be gathered here.\nAnd what they one and all reply\nWhen summoned by this mandate high,\nTo me with faithful care report,\nOmit no word and none distort.\u201d\n\n  The pupils heard, and prompt obeyed,\nTo every side their way they made.\nThen swift from every quarter sped\nThe sages in the Vedas read.\nBack to that saint the envoys came,\nWhose glory shone like burning flame,\nAnd told him in their faithful speech\nThe answer that they bore from each:\n\u201cSubmissive to thy word, O Seer,\nThe holy men are gathering here.\nBy all was meet obedience shown:\nMahodaya(238) refused alone.\nAnd now, O Chief of hermits, hear\nWhat answer, chilling us with fear,\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s hundred sons returned,\nThick-speaking as with rage they burned:\n\u201cHow will the Gods and saints partake\nThe offerings that the prince would make,\nAnd he a vile and outcast thing,\nHis ministrant one born a king?\nCan we, great Br\u00e1hmans, eat his food,\nAnd think to win beatitude,\nBy Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra purified?\u201d\nThus sire and sons in scorn replied,\nAnd as these bitter words they said,\nWild fury made their eyeballs red.\n\n  Their answer when the arch-hermit heard,\nHis tranquil eyes with rage were blurred;\nGreat fury in his bosom woke,\nAnd thus unto the youths he spoke:\n\u201cMe, blameless me they dare to blame,\nAnd disallow the righteous claim\nMy fierce austerities have earned:\nTo ashes be the sinners turned.\nCaught in the noose of Fate shall they\nTo Y\u00e1ma\u2019s kingdom sink to-day.\nSeven hundred times shall they be born\nTo wear the clothes the dead have worn.\nDregs of the dregs, too vile to hate,\nThe flesh of dogs their maws shall sate.\nIn hideous form, in loathsome weed,\nA sad existence each shall lead.\nMahodaya too, the fool who fain\nMy stainless life would try to stain,\nStained in the world with long disgrace\nShall sink into a fowler\u2019s place.\nRejoicing guiltless blood to spill,\nNo pity through his breast shall thrill.\nCursed by my wrath for many a day,\nHis wretched life for sin shall pay.\u201d\n\n  Thus, girt with hermit, saint, and priest,\nGreat Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra spoke\u2014and ceased.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LX. Trisanku\u2019s Ascension.\n\n\nSo with ascetic might, in ire,\nHe smote the children and the sire.\nThen Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, far-renowned,\nAddressed the saints who gathered round:\n\u201cSee by my side Tri\u015banku stand,\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son, of liberal hand.\nMost virtuous and gentle, he\nSeeks refuge in his woe with me.\nNow, holy men, with me unite,\nAnd order so his purposed rite\nThat in the body he may rise\nAnd win a mansion in the skies.\u201d\n\n  They heard his speech with ready ear\nAnd, every bosom filled with fear\nOf Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, wise and great,\nSpoke each to each in brief debate:\n\u201cThe breast of Ku\u015bik\u2019s son, we know,\nWith furious wrath is quick to glow.\nWhate\u2019er the words he wills to say,\nWe must, be very sure, obey.\nFierce is our lord as fire, and straight\nMay curse us all infuriate.\nSo let us in these rites engage,\nAs ordered by the holy sage.\nAnd with our best endeavour strive\nThat King Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son, alive,\nIn body to the skies may go\nBy his great might who wills it so.\u201d\n\n  Then was the rite begun with care:\nAll requisites and means were there:\nAnd glorious Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra lent\nHis willing aid as president.\nAnd all the sacred rites were done\nBy rule and use, omitting none.\nBy chaplain-priest, the hymns who knew,\nIn decent form and order due.\nSome time in sacrifice had past,\nAnd Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra made, at last,\nThe solemn offering with the prayer\nThat all the Gods might come and share.\nBut the Immortals, one and all,\nRefused to hear the hermit\u2019s call.\n\n  Then red with rage his eyeballs blazed:\nThe sacred ladle high he raised,\nAnd cried to King Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son:\n\u201cBehold my power, by penance won:\nNow by the might my merits lend,\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s child, to heaven ascend.\nIn living frame the skies attain,\nWhich mortals thus can scarcely gain.\nMy vows austere, so long endured,\nHave, as I ween, some fruit assured.\nUpon its virtue, King, rely,\nAnd in thy body reach the sky.\u201d\n\n  His speech had scarcely reached its close,\nWhen, as he stood, the sovereign rose,\nAnd mounted swiftly to the skies\nBefore the wondering hermits\u2019 eyes.\n\n  But Indra, when he saw the king\nHis blissful regions entering,\nWith all the army of the Blest\nThus cried unto the unbidden guest:\n\u201cWith thy best speed, Tri\u015banku, flee:\nHere is no home prepared for thee.\nBy thy great master\u2019s curse brought low,\nGo, falling headlong, earthward go.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the Lord of Gods addressed,\nTri\u015banku fell from fancied rest,\nAnd screaming in his swift descent,\n\u201cO, save me, Hermit!\u201d down he went.\nAnd Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra heard his cry,\nAnd marked him falling from the sky,\nAnd giving all his passion sway,\nCried out in fury, \u201cStay, O stay!\u201d\nBy penance-power and holy lore,\nLike Him who framed the worlds of yore,\nSeven other saints he fixed on high\nTo star with light the southern sky.\nGirt with his sages forth he went,\nAnd southward in the firmament\nNew wreathed stars prepared to set\nIn many a sparkling coronet.\nHe threatened, blind with rage and hate,\nAnother Indra to create,\nOr, from his throne the ruler hurled,\nAll Indraless to leave the world.\nYea, borne away by passion\u2019s storm,\nThe sage began new Gods to form.\nBut then each Titan, God, and saint,\nConfused with terror, sick and faint,\nTo high souled Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra hied,\nAnd with soft words to soothe him tried:\n\u201cLord of high destiny, this king,\nTo whom his master\u2019s curses cling,\nNo heavenly home deserves to gain,\nUnpurified from curse and stain.\u201d\n\n  The son of Ku\u015bik, undeterred,\nThe pleading of the Immortals heard,\nAnd thus in haughty words expressed\nThe changeless purpose of his breast:\n\u201cContent ye, Gods: I soothly sware\nTri\u015banku to the skies to bear\nClothed in his body, nor can I\nMy promise cancel or deny.\nEmbodied let the king ascend\nTo life in heaven that ne\u2019er shall end.\nAnd let these new-made stars of mine\nFirm and secure for ever shine.\nLet these, my work, remain secure\nLong as the earth and heaven endure.\nThis, all ye Gods, I crave: do you\nAllow the boon for which I sue.\u201d\nThen all the Gods their answer made:\n\u201cSo be it, Saint, as thou hast prayed.\nBeyond the sun\u2019s diurnal way\nThy countless stars in heaven shall stay:\nAnd \u2019mid them hung, as one divine,\nHead downward shall Tri\u015banku shine;\nAnd all thy stars shall ever fling\nTheir rays attendant on the king.\u201d(239)\n\n  The mighty saint, with glory crowned,\nWith all the sages compassed round,\nPraised by the Gods, gave full assent,\nAnd Gods and sages homeward went.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXI. Sunahsepha.\n\n\nThen Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, when the Blest\nHad sought their homes of heavenly rest,\nThus, mighty Prince, his counsel laid\nBefore the dwellers of the shade:\n\u201cThe southern land where now we are\nOffers this check our rites to bar:(240)\nTo other regions let us speed,\nAnd ply our tasks from trouble freed.\nNow turn we to the distant west.\nTo Pushkar\u2019s(241) wood where hermits rest,\nAnd there to rites austere apply,\nFor not a grove with that can vie.\u201d\n\n  The saint, in glory\u2019s light arrayed,\nIn Pushkar\u2019s wood his dwelling made,\nAnd living there on roots and fruit\nDid penance stern and resolute.\n\n  The king who filled Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s throne,\nBy Ambar\u00edsha\u2019s name far known,\nAt that same time, it chanced, began\nA sacrificial rite to plan.\nBut Indra took by force away\nThe charger that the king would slay.\nThe victim lost, the Br\u00e1hman sped\nTo Ambar\u00edsha\u2019s side, and said:\n\u201cGone is the steed, O King, and this\nIs due to thee, in care remiss.\nSuch heedless faults will kings destroy\nWho fail to guard what they enjoy.\nThe flaw is desperate: we need\nThe charger, or a man to bleed.\nQuick! bring a man if not the horse,\nThat so the rite may have its course.\u201d\n\n  The glory of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line\nMade offer of a thousand kine,\nAnd sought to buy at lordly price\nA victim for the sacrifice.\nTo many a distant land he drove,\nTo many a people, town, and grove,\nAnd holy shades where hermits rest,\nPursuing still his eager quest.\nAt length on Bhrigu\u2019s sacred height\nThe saint Rich\u00edka met his sight\nSitting beneath the holy boughs.\nHis children near him, and his spouse.\n\n  The mighty lord drew near, assayed\nTo win his grace, and reverence paid;\nAnd then the sainted king addressed\nThe Br\u00e1hman saint with this request:\n\u201cBought with a hundred thousand kine,\nGive me, O Sage, a son of thine\nTo be a victim in the rite,\nAnd thanks the favour shall requite.\nFor I have roamed all countries round,\nNor sacrificial victim found.\nThen, gentle Hermit, deign to spare\nOne child amid the number there.\u201d\n\n  Then to the monarch\u2019s speech replied\nThe hermit, penance-glorified:\n\u201cFor countless kine, for hills of gold,\nMine eldest son shall ne\u2019er be sold.\u201d\nBut, when she heard the saint\u2019s reply,\nThe children\u2019s mother, standing nigh,\nWords such as these in answer said\nTo Ambar\u00edsha, monarch dread:\n\u201cMy lord, the saint, has spoken well:\nHis eldest child he will not sell.\nAnd know, great Monarch, that above\nThe rest my youngest born I love.\n\u2019Tis ever thus: the father\u2019s joy\nIs centred in his eldest boy.\nThe mother loves her darling best\nWhom last she rocked upon her breast:\nMy youngest I will ne\u2019er forsake.\u201d\n\n  As thus the sire and mother spake,\nYoung \u015aunah\u015bepha, of the three\nThe midmost, cried unurged and free:\n\u201cMy sire withholds his eldest son,\nMy mother keeps her youngest one:\nThen take me with thee, King: I ween\nThe son is sold who comes between.\u201d\nThe king with joy his home resought,\nAnd took the prize his kine had bought.\nHe bade the youth his car ascend,\nAnd hastened back the rites to end.(242)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXII. Ambar\u00edsha\u2019s Sacrifice.\n\n\nAs thus the king that youth conveyed,\nHis weary steeds at length he stayed\nAt height of noon their rest to take\nUpon the bank of Pushkar\u2019s lake.\nThere while the king enjoyed repose\nThe captive \u015aunah\u015bepha rose,\nAnd hasting to the water\u2019s side\nHis uncle Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra spied,\nWith many a hermit \u2019neath the trees\nEngaged in stern austerities.\n\n  Distracted with the toil and thirst,\nWith woeful mien, away he burst,\nSwift to the hermit\u2019s breast he flew,\nAnd weeping thus began to sue:\n\u201cNo sire have I, no mother dear,\nNo kith or kin my heart to cheer:\nAs justice bids, O Hermit, deign\nTo save me from the threatened pain.\nO thou to whom the wretched flee,\nAnd find a saviour, Saint, in thee,\nNow let the king obtain his will,\nAnd me my length of days fulfil,\nThat rites austere I too may share,\nMay rise to heaven and rest me there.\nWith tender soul and gentle brow\nBe guardian of the orphan thou,\nAnd as a father pities, so\nPreserve me from my fear and woe.\u201d\n\n  When Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, glorious saint,\nHad heard the boy\u2019s heart-rending plaint.\nHe soothed his grief, his tears he dried,\nThen called his sons to him, and cried:\n\u201cThe time is come for you to show\nThe duty and the aid bestow\nFor which, regarding future life,\nA man gives children to his wife.\nThis hermit\u2019s son, whom here you see\nA suppliant, refuge seeks with me.\nO sons, the friendless youth befriend,\nAnd, pleasing me, his life defend.\nFor holy works you all have wrought,\nTrue to the virtuous life I taught.\nGo, and as victims doomed to bleed,\nDie, and Lord Agni\u2019s hunger feed.\nSo shall the rite completed end,\nThis orphan gain a saving friend,\nDue offerings to the Gods be paid,\nAnd your own father\u2019s voice obeyed.\u201d\n\n  Then Madhushyand and all the rest\nAnswered their sire with scorn and jest:\n\u201cWhat! aid to others\u2019 sons afford,\nAnd leave thine own to die, my lord!\nTo us it seems a horrid deed,\nAs \u2019twere on one\u2019s own flesh to feed.\u201d\n\n  The hermit heard his sons\u2019 reply,\nAnd burning rage inflamed his eye.\nThen forth his words of fury burst:\n\u201cAudacious speech, by virtue cursed!\nIt lifts on end each shuddering hair\u2014\nMy charge to scorn! my wrath to dare!\nYou, like Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s evil brood,\nShall make the flesh of dogs your food\nA thousand years in many a birth,\nAnd punished thus shall dwell on earth.\u201d\n\n  Thus on his sons his curse he laid.\nThen calmed again that youth dismayed,\nAnd blessed him with his saving aid:\n\u201cWhen in the sacred fetters bound,\nAnd with a purple garland crowned,\nAt Vish\u1e47u\u2019s post thou standest tied,\nWith lauds be Agni glorified.\nAnd these two hymns of holy praise\nForget not, Hermit\u2019s son, to raise\nIn the king\u2019s rite, and thou shalt be\nLord of thy wish, preserved, and free.\u201d\n\n  He learnt the hymns with mind intent,\nAnd from the hermit\u2019s presence went.\nTo Ambar\u00edsha thus he spake:\n\u201cLet us our onward journey take.\nHaste to thy home, O King, nor stay\nThe lustral rites with slow delay.\u201d\n\n  The boy\u2019s address the monarch cheered,\nAnd soon the sacred ground he neared.\nThe convocation\u2019s high decree\nDeclared the youth from blemish free;\nClothed in red raiment he was tied\nA victim at the pillar\u2019s side.\nThere bound, the Fire-God\u2019s hymn he raised,\nAnd Indra and Upendra praised.\nThousand-eyed Vish\u1e47u, pleased to hear\nThe mystic laud, inclined his ear,\nAnd won by worship, swift to save,\nLong life to \u015aunah\u015bepha gave.\nThe king in bounteous measure gained\nThe fruit of sacrifice ordained,\nBy grace of Him who rules the skies,\nLord Indra of the thousand eyes.\n\n  And Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra evermore.\nPursued his task on Pushkar\u2019s shore\nUntil a thousand years had past\nIn fierce austerity and fast.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIII. Menak\u00e1.\n\n\nA thousand years had thus flown by\nWhen all the Gods within the sky,\nEager that he the fruit might gain\nOf fervent rite and holy pain,\nApproached the great ascetic, now\nBathed after toil and ended vow.\nThen Brahm\u00e1 speaking for the rest\nWith sweetest words the sage addressed:\n\u201cHail, Saint! This high and holy name\nThy rites have won, thy merits claim.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the Lord whom Gods revere,\nAnd sought again his heavenly sphere.\nBut Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, more intent,\nHis mind to sterner penance bent.\n  So many a season rolled away,\nWhen Menak\u00e1, fair nymph, one day\nCame down from Paradise to lave\nHer perfect limbs in Pushkar\u2019s wave,\nThe glorious son of Ku\u015bik saw\nThat peerless shape without a flaw\nFlash through the flood\u2019s translucent shroud\nLike lightning gleaming through a cloud.\nHe saw her in that lone retreat,\nMost beautiful from head to feet,\nAnd by Kandarpa\u2019s(243) might subdued\nHe thus addressed her as he viewed:\n\u201cWelcome, sweet nymph! O deign, I pray,\nIn these calm shades awhile to stay.\nTo me some gracious favour show,\nFor love has set my breast aglow.\u201d\n\n  He spoke. The fairest of the fair\nMade for awhile her dwelling there,\nWhile day by day the wild delight\nStayed vow austere and fervent rite\nThere as the winsome charmer wove\nHer spells around him in the grove,\nAnd bound him in a golden chain,\nFive sweet years fled, and five again.\nThen Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra woke to shame,\nAnd, fraught with anguish, memory came\nFor quick he knew, with anger fired,\nThat all the Immortals had conspired\nTo lap his careless soul in ease,\nAnd mar his long austerities.\n\u201cTen years have past, each day and night\nUnheeded in delusive flight.\nSo long my fervent rites were stayed,\nWhile thus I lay by love betrayed.\u201d\nAs thus long sighs the hermit heaved,\nAnd, touched with deep repentance, grieved,\nHe saw the fair one standing nigh\nWith suppliant hands and trembling eye.\nWith gentle words he bade her go,\nThen sought the northern hills of snow.\nWith firm resolve he vowed to beat\nThe might of love beneath his feet.\nStill northward to the distant side\nOf Kau\u015bik\u00ed(244), the hermit hide,\nAnd gave his life to penance there\nWith rites austere most hard to bear.\nA thousand years went by, and still\nHe laboured on the northern hill\nWith pains so terrible and drear\nThat all the Gods were chilled with fear,\nAnd Gods and saints, for swift advice,\nMet in the halls of Paradise.\n\u201cLet Ku\u015bik\u2019s son,\u201d they counselled, \u201cbe\nA Mighty saint by just decree.\u201d\nHis ear to hear their counsel lent\nThe Sire of worlds, omnipotent.\nTo him enriched by rites severe\nHe spoke in accents sweet to hear:\n\u201cHail, Mighty Saint! dear son, all hail!\nThy fervour wins, thy toils prevail.\nWon by thy vows and zeal intense\nI give this high pre\u00ebminence.\u201d\nHe to the General Sire replied,\nNot sad, nor wholly satisfied:\n\u201cWhen thou, O Brahm\u00e1, shalt declare\nThe title, great beyond compare,\nOf Br\u00e1hman saint my worthy meed,\nHard earned by many a holy deed,\nThen may I deem in sooth I hold\nEach sense of body well controlled.\u201d\nThen Brahm\u00e1 cried, \u201cNot yet, not yet:\nToil on awhile O Anchoret!\u201d\n\n  Thus having said to heaven he went,\nThe saint, upon his task intent,\nBegan his labours to renew,\nWhich sterner yet and fiercer grew.\nHis arms upraised, without a rest,\nWith but one foot the earth he pressed;\nThe air his food, the hermit stood\nStill as a pillar hewn from wood.\nAround him in the summer days\nFive mighty fires combined to blaze.\nIn floods of rain no veil was spread\nSave clouds, to canopy his head.\nIn the dank dews both night and day\nCouched in the stream the hermit lay.\nThus, till a thousand years had fled,\nHe plied his task of penance dread.\nThen Vish\u1e47u and the Gods with awe\nThe labours of the hermit saw,\nAnd \u015aakra, in his troubled breast,\nLord of the skies, his fear confessed.\nAnd brooded on a plan to spoil\nThe merits of the hermit\u2019s toil.\nEncompassed by his Gods of Storm\nHe summoned Rambh\u00e1, fair of form,\nAnd spoke a speech for woe and weal,\nThe saint to mar, the God to heal.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIV. Rambh\u00e1.\n\n\n\u201cA great emprise, O lovely maid,\nTo save the Gods, awaits thine aid:\nTo bind the son of Ku\u015bik sure,\nAnd take his soul with love\u2019s sweet lure.\u201d\nThus order\u2019d by the Thousand-eyed\nThe suppliant nymph in fear replied:\n\u201cO Lord of Gods, this mighty sage\nIs very fierce and swift to rage.\nI doubt not, he so dread and stern\nOn me his scorching wrath will turn.\nOf this, my lord, am I afraid:\nHave mercy on a timid maid.\u201d\nHer suppliant hands began to shake,\nWhen thus again Lord Indra spake:\n\u201cO Rambh\u00e1, drive thy fears away,\nAnd as I bid do thou obey.\nIn Ko\u00efl\u2019s form, who takes the heart\nWhen trees in spring to blossom start,\nI, with Kandarpa for my friend,\nClose to thy side mine aid will lend.\nDo thou thy beauteous splendour arm\nWith every grace and winsome charm,\nAnd from his awful rites seduce\nThis Ku\u015bik\u2019s son, the stern recluse.\u201d\n\n  Lord Indra ceased. The nymph obeyed:\nIn all her loveliest charms arrayed,\nWith winning ways and witching smile\nShe sought the hermit to beguile.\nThe sweet note of that tuneful bird\nThe saint with ravished bosom heard,\nAnd on his heart a rapture passed\nAs on the nymph a look he cast.\nBut when he heard the bird prolong\nHis sweet incomparable song,\nAnd saw the nymph with winning smile,\nThe hermit\u2019s heart perceived the wile.\nAnd straight he knew the Thousand-eyed\nA plot against his peace had tried.\nThen Ku\u015bik\u2019s son indignant laid\nHis curse upon the heavenly maid:\n\u201cBecause thou wouldst my soul engage\nWho fight to conquer love and rage,\nStand, till ten thousand years have flown,\nIll-fated maid, transformed to stone.\nA Br\u00e1hman then, in glory strong,\nMighty through penance stern and long,\nShall free thee from thine altered shape;\nThou from my curse shalt then escape.\u201d\nBut when the saint had cursed her so,\nHis breast was burnt with fires of woe,\nGrieved that long effort to restrain\nHis mighty wrath was all in vain.\nCursed by the angry sage\u2019s power,\nShe stood in stone that selfsame hour.\nKandarpa heard the words he said,\nAnd quickly from his presence fled.\nHis fall beneath his passion\u2019s sway\nHad reft the hermit\u2019s meed away.\nUnconquered yet his secret foes,\nThe humbled saint refused repose:\n\u201cNo more shall rage my bosom till,\nSealed be my lips, my tongue be still.\nMy very breath henceforth I hold\nUntil a thousand years are told:\nVictorious o\u2019er each erring sense,\nI\u2019ll dry my frame with abstinence,\nUntil by penance duly done\nA Br\u00e1hman\u2019s rank be bought and won.\nFor countless years, as still as death,\nI taste no food, I draw no breath,\nAnd as I toil my frame shall stand\nUnharmed by time\u2019s destroying hand.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXV. Visv\u00e1mitra\u2019s Triumph\n\n\nThen from Him\u00e1laya\u2019s heights of snow,\nThe glorious saint prepared to go,\nAnd dwelling in the distant east\nHis penance and his toil increased.\nA thousand years his lips he held\nClosed by a vow unparalleled,\nAnd other marvels passing thought,\nUnrivalled in the world, he wrought.\nIn all the thousand years his frame\nDry as a log of wood became.\nBy many a cross and check beset,\nRage had not stormed his bosom yet.\nWith iron will that naught could bend\nHe plied his labour till the end.\nSo when the weary years were o\u2019er,\nFreed from his vow so stern and sore,\nThe hermit, all his penance sped,\nSate down to eat his meal of bread.\nThen Indra, clad in Br\u00e1hman guise,\nAsked him for food with hungry eyes.\nThe mighty saint, with steadfast soul,\nTo the false Br\u00e1hman gave the whole,\nAnd when no scrap for him remained,\nFasting and faint, from speech refrained.\nHis silent vow he would not break:\nNo breath he heaved, no word he spake,\nThen as he checked his breath, behold!\nAround his brow thick smoke-clouds rolled\nAnd the three worlds, as if o\u2019erspread\nWith ravening flames, were filled with dread.\nThen God and saint and bard, convened,\nAnd N\u00e1ga lord, and snake, and fiend,\nThus to the General Father cried,\nDistracted, sad, and terrified:\n\u201cAgainst the hermit, sore assailed,\nLure, scathe, and scorn have naught availed,\nProof against rage and treacherous art\nHe keeps his vow with constant heart.\nNow if his toils assist him naught\nTo gain the boon his soul has sought,\nHe through the worlds will ruin send\nThat fixt and moving things shall end,\nThe regions now are dark with doom,\nNo friendly ray relieves the gloom.\nEach ocean foams with maddened tide,\nThe shrinking hills in fear subside.\nTrembles the earth with feverous throe\nThe wind in fitful tempest blows.\nNo cure we see with troubled eyes:\nAnd atheist brood on earth may rise.\nThe triple world is wild with care,\nOr spiritless in dull despair.\nBefore that saint the sun is dim,\nHis blessed light eclipsed by him.\nNow ere the saint resolve to bring\nDestruction on each living thing,\nLet us appease, while yet we may,\nHim bright as fire, like fire to slay.\nYea, as the fiery flood of Fate\nLays all creation desolate,\nHe o\u2019er the conquered Gods may reign:\nO, grant him what he longs to gain.\u201d\n\nThen all the Blest, by Brahm\u00e1 led,\nApproached the saint and sweetly said:\n\u201cHail, Br\u00e1hman Saint! for such thy place:\nThy vows austere have won our grace.\nA Br\u00e1hman\u2019s rank thy penance stern\nAnd ceaseless labour richly earn.\nI with the Gods of Storm decree\nLong life, O Br\u00e1hman Saint, to thee.\nMay peace and joy thy soul possess:\nGo where thou wilt in happiness.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the General Sire addressed,\nJoy and high triumph filled his breast.\nHis head in adoration bowed,\nThus spoke he to the Immortal crowd:\n\u201cIf I, ye Gods, have gained at last\nBoth length of days and Br\u00e1hman caste,\nGrant that the high mysterious name,\nAnd holy Vedas, own my claim,\nAnd that the formula to bless\nThe sacrifice, its lord confess.\nAnd let Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, who excels\nIn Warriors\u2019 art and mystic spells,\nIn love of God without a peer,\nConfirm the boon you promise here.\u201d\n\n  With Brahm\u00e1\u2019s son Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, best\nOf those who pray with voice repressed,\nThe Gods by earnest prayer prevailed,\nAnd thus his new-made friend he hailed:\n\u201cThy title now is sure and good\nTo rights of saintly Br\u00e1hmanhood.\u201d\nThus spake the sage. The Gods, content,\nBack to their heavenly mansions went.\nAnd Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, pious-souled,\nAmong the Br\u00e1hman saints enrolled,\nOn reverend Va\u015bish\u1e6dha pressed\nThe honours due to holy guest.\nSuccessful in his high pursuit,\nThe sage, in penance resolute,\nWalked in his pilgrim wanderings o\u2019er\nThe whole broad land from shore to shore.\n\u2019Twas thus the saint, O Raghu\u2019s son,\nHis rank among the Br\u00e1hmans won.\nBest of all hermits, Prince, is he;\nIn him incarnate Penance see.\nFriend of the right, who shrinks from ill,\nHeroic powers attend him still.\u201d\n\n  The Br\u00e1hman, versed in ancient lore,\nThus closed his tale, and said no more,\nTo \u015aat\u00e1nanda Ku\u015bik\u2019s son\nCried in delight, Well done! well done!\nThen Janak, at the tale amazed,\nSpoke thus with suppliant hands upraised:\n\u201cHigh fate is mine, O Sage, I deem,\nAnd thanks I owe for bliss supreme,\nThat thou and Raghu\u2019s children too\nHave come my sacrifice to view.\nTo look on thee with blessed eyes\nExalts my soul and purifies.\nYea, thus to see thee face to face\nEnriches me with store of grace.\nThy holy labours wrought of old,\nAnd mighty penance, fully told,\nR\u00e1ma and I with great delight\nHave heard, O glorious Anchorite.\nUnrivalled thine ascetic deeds:\nThy might, O Saint, all might exceeds.\nNo thought may scan, no limit bound\nThe virtues that in thee are found.\nThe story of thy wondrous fate\nMy thirsty ears can never sate.\nThe hour of evening rites is near:\nThe sun declines in swift career.\nAt early dawn, O Hermit, deign\nTo let me see thy face again.\nBest of ascetics, part in bliss:\nDo thou thy servant now dismiss.\u201d\n\n  The saint approved, and glad and kind\nDismissed the king with joyful mind\nAround the sage King Janak went\nWith priests and kinsmen reverent.\nThen Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, honoured so,\nBy those high-minded, rose to go,\nAnd with the princes took his way\nTo seek the lodging where they lay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVI. Janak\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nWith cloudless lustre rose the sun;\nThe king, his morning worship done,\nOrdered his heralds to invite\nThe princes and the anchorite.\nWith honour, as the laws decree,\nThe monarch entertained the three.\nThen to the youths and saintly man\nVideha\u2019s lord this speech began:\n\u201cO blameless Saint, most welcome thou!\nIf I may please thee tell me how.\nSpeak, mighty lord, whom all revere,\n\u2019Tis thine to order, mine to hear.\u201d\n\n  Thus he on mighty thoughts intent;\nThen thus the sage most eloquent:\n\u201cKing Da\u015baratha\u2019s sons, this pair\nOf warriors famous everywhere,\nAre come that best of bows to see\nThat lies a treasure stored by thee.\nThis, mighty Janak, deign to show,\nThat they may look upon the bow,\nAnd then, contented, homeward go.\u201d\nThen royal Janak spoke in turn:\n\u201cO best of Saints, the story learn\nWhy this famed bow, a noble prize,\nA treasure in my palace lies.\nA monarch, Devar\u00e1t by name,\nWho sixth from ancient Nimi came,\nHeld it as ruler of the land,\nA pledge in his successive hand.\nThis bow the mighty Rudra bore\nAt Daksha\u2019s(245) sacrifice of yore,\nWhen carnage of the Immortals stained\nThe rite that Daksha had ordained.\nThen as the Gods sore wounded fled,\nVictorious Rudra, mocking, said:\n\u201cBecause, O Gods, ye gave me naught\nWhen I my rightful portion sought,\nYour dearest parts I will not spare,\nBut with my bow your frames will tear.\u201d\n\n  The Sons of Heaven, in wild alarm,\nSoft flatteries tried his rage to charm.\nThen Bhava, Lord whom Gods adore,\nGrew kind and friendly as before,\nAnd every torn and mangled limb\nWas safe and sound restored by him.\nThenceforth this bow, the gem of bows,\nThat freed the God of Gods from foes,\nStored by our great forefathers lay\nA treasure and a pride for aye.\nOnce, as it chanced, I ploughed the ground,\nWhen sudden, \u2019neath the share was found\nAn infant springing from the earth,\nNamed S\u00edt\u00e1 from her secret birth.(246)\nIn strength and grace the maiden grew,\nMy cherished daughter, fair to view.\nI vowed her, of no mortal birth,\nMeet prize for noblest hero\u2019s worth.\nIn strength and grace the maiden grew,\nAnd many a monarch came to woo.\nTo all the princely suitors I\nGave, mighty Saint, the same reply:\n\u201cI give not thus my daughter, she\nPrize of heroic worth shall be.(247)\nTo M\u00edthil\u00e1 the suitors pressed\nTheir power and might to manifest.\nTo all who came with hearts aglow\nI offered \u015aiva\u2019s wondrous bow.\nNot one of all the royal band\nCould raise or take the bow in hand.\nThe suitors\u2019 puny might I spurned,\nAnd back the feeble princes turned.\nEnraged thereat, the warriors met,\nWith force combined my town beset.\nStung to the heart with scorn and shame,\nWith war and threats they madly came,\nBesieged my peaceful walls, and long\nTo M\u00edthil\u00e1 did grievous wrong.\nThere, wasting all, a year they lay,\nAnd brought my treasures to decay,\nFilling my soul, O Hermit chief,\nWith bitter woe and hopeless grief.\nAt last by long-wrought penance I\nWon favour with the Gods on high,\nWho with my labours well content\nA four-fold host to aid me sent.\nThen swift the baffled heroes fled\nTo all the winds discomfited\u2014\nWrong-doers, with their lords and host,\nAnd all their valour\u2019s idle boast.\nThis heavenly bow, exceeding bright,\nThese youths shall see, O Anchorite.\nThen if young R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand can string\nThe bow that baffled lord and king,\nTo him I give, as I have sworn,\nMy S\u00edt\u00e1, not of woman born.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.\n\n\nThen spoke again the great recluse:\n\u201cThis mighty bow, O King, produce.\u201d\nKing Janak, at the saint\u2019s request,\nThis order to his train addressed:\n\u201cLet the great bow be hither borne,\nWhich flowery wreaths and scents adorn.\u201d\nSoon as the monarch\u2019s words were said,\nHis servants to the city sped,\nFive thousand youths in number, all\nOf manly strength and stature tall,\nThe ponderous eight-wheeled chest that held\nThe heavenly bow, with toil propelled.\nAt length they brought that iron chest,\nAnd thus the godlike king addressed:\n\u201cThis best of bows, O lord, we bring,\nRespected by each chief and king,\nAnd place it for these youths to see,\nIf, Sovereign, such thy pleasure be.\u201d\n\n  With suppliant palm to palm applied\nKing Janak to the strangers cried:\n\u201cThis gem of bows, O Br\u00e1hman Sage,\nOur race has prized from age to age,\nToo strong for those who yet have reigned,\nThough great in might each nerve they strained.\nTitan and fiend its strength defies,\nGod, spirit, minstrel of the skies.\nAnd bard above and snake below\nAre baffled by this glorious bow.\nThen how may human prowess hope\nWith such a bow as this to cope?\nWhat man with valour\u2019s choicest gift\nThis bow can draw, or string, or lift?\nYet let the princes, holy Seer,\nBehold it: it is present here.\u201d\n\n  Then spoke the hermit pious-souled:\n\u201cR\u00e1ma, dear son, the bow behold.\u201d\nThen R\u00e1ma at his word unclosed\nThe chest wherein its might reposed,\nThus crying, as he viewed it: \u201cLo!\nI lay mine hand upon the bow:\nMay happy luck my hope attend\nIts heavenly strength to lift or bend.\u201d\n\u201cGood luck be thine,\u201d the hermit cried:\n\u201cAssay the task!\u201d the king replied.\nThen Raghu\u2019s son, as if in sport,\nBefore the thousands of the court,\nThe weapon by the middle raised\nThat all the crowd in wonder gazed.\nWith steady arm the string he drew\nTill burst the mighty bow in two.\nAs snapped the bow, an awful clang,\nLoud as the shriek of tempests, rang.\nThe earth, affrighted, shook amain\nAs when a hill is rent in twain.\nThen, senseless at the fearful sound,\nThe people fell upon the ground:\nNone save the king, the princely pair,\nAnd the great saint, the shock could bear.\n\n  When woke to sense the stricken train,\nAnd Janak\u2019s soul was calm again,\nWith suppliant hands and reverent head,\nThese words, most eloquent, he said:\n\u201cO Saint, Prince R\u00e1ma stands alone:\nHis peerless might he well has shown.\nA marvel has the hero wrought\nBeyond belief, surpassing thought.\nMy child, to royal R\u00e1ma wed,\nNew glory on our line will shed:\nAnd true my promise will remain\nThat hero\u2019s worth the bride should gain.\nDearer to me than light and life,\nMy S\u00edt\u00e1 shall be R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife.\nIf thou, O Br\u00e1hman, leave concede,\nMy counsellors, with eager speed,\nBorne in their flying cars, to fair\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s town the news shall bear,\nWith courteous message to entreat\nThe king to grace my royal seat.\nThis to the monarch shall they tell,\nThe bride is his who won her well:\nAnd his two sons are resting here\nProtected by the holy seer.\nSo, at his pleasure, let them lead\nThe sovereign to my town with speed.\u201d\n\n  The hermit to his prayer inclined\nAnd Janak, lord of virtuous mind,\nWith charges, to Ayodhy\u00e1 sent\nHis ministers: and forth they went.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVIII. The Envoys\u2019 Speech.\n\n\nThree nights upon the road they passed\nTo rest the steeds that bore them fast,\nAnd reached Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town at last.\nThen straight at Da\u015baratha\u2019s call\nThey stood within the royal hall,\nWhere, like a God, inspiring awe,\nThe venerable king they saw.\nWith suppliant palm to palm applied,\nAnd all their terror laid aside,\nThey spoke to him upon the throne\nWith modest words, in gentle tone:\n\u201cJanak, Videha\u2019s king, O Sire,\nHas sent us hither to inquire\nThe health of thee his friend most dear,\nOf all thy priests and every peer.\nNext Ku\u015bik\u2019s son consenting, thus\nKing Janak speaks, dread liege, by us:\n\u201cI made a promise and decree\nThat valour\u2019s prize my child should be.\nKings, worthless found in worth\u2019s assay,\nWith mien dejected turned away.\nThy sons, by Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra led,\nUnurged, my city visited,\nAnd peerless in their might have gained\nMy daughter, as my vow ordained.\nFull in a vast assembly\u2019s view\nThy hero R\u00e1ma broke in two\nThe gem of bows, of monstrous size,\nThat came a treasure from the skies.\nOrdained the prize of hero\u2019s might,\nS\u00edt\u00e1 my child is his by right.\nFain would I keep my promise made,\nIf thou, O King, approve and aid.\nCome to my town thy son to see:\nBring holy guide and priest with thee.\nO lord of kings, my suit allow,\nAnd let me keep my promised vow.\nSo joying for thy children\u2019s sake\nTheir triumph too shalt thou partake,\nWith Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s high consent.\u201d\nSuch words with friendship eloquent\nSpoke Janak, fair Videha\u2019s king,\nBy \u015aat\u00e1nanda\u2019s counselling.\u201d\n\n  The envoys thus the king addressed,\nAnd mighty joy his heart possessed.\nTo V\u00e1madeva quick he cried,\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, and his lords beside:\n\u201cLakshma\u1e47, and he, my princely boy\nWho fills Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s soul with joy,\nBy Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra guarded well\nAmong the good Videhans dwell.\nTheir ruler Janak, prompt to own\nThe peerless might my child has shown,\nTo him would knit in holy ties\nHis daughter, valour\u2019s lovely prize.\nIf Janak\u2019s plan seem good to you,\nCome, speed we to his city too,\nNor let occasion idly by.\u201d\n\n  He ceased. There came a glad reply\nFrom priest and mighty saint and all\nThe councillors who thronged the hall.\nThen cried the king with joyous heart:\n\u201cTo-morrow let us all depart.\u201d\n\n  That night the envoys entertained\nWith honour and all care remained.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIX. Dasaratha\u2019s Visit.\n\n\nSoon as the shades of night had fled,\nThus to the wise Sumantra said\nThe happy king, while priest and peer,\nEach in his place, were standing near:\n\u201cLet all my treasurers to-day,\nSet foremost in the long array,\nWith gold and precious gems supplied\nIn bounteous store, together ride.\nAnd send you out a mighty force,\nFoot, chariot, elephant, and horse.\nBesides, let many a car of state,\nAnd noblest steeds, my will await.\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, V\u00e1madeva sage,\nAnd M\u00e1rka\u1e47deya\u2019s reverend age,\nJ\u00e1v\u00e1li, Ka\u015byap\u2019s godlike seed,\nAnd wise K\u00e1ty\u00e1yana, shall lead.\nThy care, Sumantra, let it be\nTo yoke a chariot now for me,\nThat so we part without delay:\nThese envoys hasten me away.\u201d\n\n  So fared he forth. That host, with speed,\nQuadruple, as the king decreed,\nWith priests to head the bright array,\nFollowed the monarch on his way.\nFour days they travelled on the road,\nAnd eve Videha\u2019s kingdom showed.\nJanak had left his royal seat\nThe venerable king to greet,\nAnd, noblest, with these words addressed\nThat noblest lord, his happy guest:\n\u201cHail, best of kings: a blessed fate\nHas led thee, Monarch, to my state.\nThy sons, supreme in high emprise,\nWill gladden now their father\u2019s eyes.\nAnd high my fate, that hither leads\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, bright with holy deeds,\nGirt with these sages far-renowned,\nLike Indra with the Gods around.\nJoy! joy! for vanquished are my foes:\nJoy! for my house in glory grows,\nWith Raghu\u2019s noblest sons allied,\nSupreme in strength and valour\u2019s pride.\nTo-morrow with its early light\nWill shine on my completed rite.\nThen, sanctioned by the saints and thee,\nThe marriage of thy R\u00e1ma see.\u201d\n\n  Then Da\u015baratha, best of those\nWhose speech in graceful order flows,\nWith gathered saints on every side,\nThus to the lord of earth replied:\n\u201cA truth is this I long have known,\nA favour is the giver\u2019s own.\nWhat thou shalt bid, O good and true,\nWe, as our power permits, will do.\u201d\n\n  That answer of the truthful lord,\nWith virtuous worth and honour stored,\nJanak, Videha\u2019s noble king,\nHeard gladly, greatly marvelling.\nWith bosoms filled with pleasure met\nLong-parted saint and anchoret,\nAnd linked in friendship\u2019s tie they spent\nThe peaceful night in great content.\n\n  R\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 thither sped,\nBy sainted Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra led,\nAnd bent in filial love to greet\nTheir father, and embraced his feet.\nThe aged king, rejoiced to hear\nAnd see again his children dear,\nHonoured by Janak\u2019s thoughtful care,\nWith great enjoyment rested there.\nKing Janak, with attentive heed,\nConsulted first his daughters\u2019 need,\nAnd ordered all to speed the rite;\nThen rested also for the night.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXX. The Maidens Sought.\n\n\nThen with the morn\u2019s returning sun.\nKing Janak, when his rites were done,\nSkilled all the charms of speech to know,\nSpoke to wise \u015aat\u00e1nanda so:\n\u201cMy brother, lord of glorious fame,\nMy younger, Ku\u015badhwaj by name,\nWhose virtuous life has won renown,\nHas settled in a lovely town,\nS\u00e1nk\u00e1\u015by\u00e1, decked with grace divine,\nWhose glories bright as Pushpak\u2019s shine,\nWhile Ikshumat\u00ed rolls her wave\nHer lofty rampart\u2019s foot to lave.\nHim, holy priest, I long to see:\nThe guardian of my rite is he:\nThat my dear brother may not miss\nA share of mine expected bliss.\u201d\n\n  Thus in the presence of the priest\nThe royal Janak spoke, and ceased.\nThen came his henchmen, prompt and brave,\nTo whom his charge the monarch gave.\nSoon as they heard his will, in haste\nWith fleetest steeds away they raced,\nTo lead with them that lord of kings,\nAs Indra\u2019s call Lord Vish\u1e47u brings.\nS\u00e1nk\u00e1\u015by\u00e1\u2019s walls they duly gained,\nAnd audience of the king obtained.\nTo him they told the news they brought\nOf marvels past and Janak\u2019s thought.\nSoon as the king the story knew\nFrom those good envoys swift and true,\nTo Janak\u2019s wish he gave assent,\nAnd swift to M\u00edthil\u00e1 he went.\nHe paid to Janak reverence due,\nAnd holy \u015aat\u00e1nanda too,\nThen sate him on a glorious seat\nFor kings or Gods celestial meet.\nSoon as the brothers, noble pair\nPeerless in might, were seated there,\nThey gave the wise Sud\u00e1man, best\nOf councillors, their high behest:\n\u201cGo, noble councillor,\u201d they cried,\n\u201cAnd hither to our presence guide\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son, Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s lord,\nInvincible by foeman\u2019s sword,\nWith both his sons, each holy seer,\nAnd every minister and peer.\u201d\nSud\u00e1man to the palace flew,\nAnd saw the mighty king who threw\nSplendour on Raghu\u2019s splendid race,\nThen bowed his head with seemly grace:\n\u201cO King, whose hand Ayodhy\u00e1 sways,\nMy lord, whom M\u00edthil\u00e1 obeys,\nYearns with desire, if thou agree,\nThee with thy guide and priest to see.\u201d\nSoon as the councillor had ceased,\nThe king, with saint and peer and priest,\nSought, speeding through the palace gate,\nThe hall where Janak held his state.\nThere, with his nobles round him spread,\nThus to Videha\u2019s lord be said:\n\u201cThou knowest, King, whose aid divine\nProtects Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s royal line.\nIn every need, whate\u2019er befall,\nThe saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha speaks for all.\nIf Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra so allow,\nAnd all the saints around me now,\nThe sage will speak, at my desire,\nAs order and the truth require.\u201d\n\n  Soon as the king his lips had stilled,\nUp rose Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, speaker skilled.\nAnd to Videha\u2019s lord began\nIn flowing words that holy man:\n\u201cFrom viewless Nature Brahm\u00e1 rose,\nNo change, no end, no waste he knows.\nA son had he Mar\u00edchi styled,\nAnd Ka\u015byap was Mar\u00edchi\u2019s child.\nFrom him Vivasvat sprang: from him\nManu whose fame shall ne\u2019er be dim.\nManu, who life to mortals gave,\nBegot Ikshv\u00e1ku good and brave.\nFirst of Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s kings was he,\nPride of her famous dynasty.\nFrom him the glorious Kukshi sprang,\nWhose fame through all the regions rang.\nRival of Kukshi\u2019s ancient fame,\nHis heir, the great Vikukshi, came,\nHis son was V\u00e1\u1e47a, lord of might;\nHis Anara\u1e47ya, strong to fight.\nHis son was Prithu, glorious name;\nFrom him the good Tri\u015banku came.\nHe left a son renowned afar,\nKnown by the name of Dhundhum\u00e1r.\nHis son, who drove the mighty car,\nWas Yuvan\u00e1\u015bva, feared in war.\nHe passed away. Him followed then\nHis son M\u00e1ndh\u00e1t\u00e1, king of men.\nHis son was blest in high emprise,\nSusandhi, fortunate and wise.\nTwo noble sons had he, to wit\nDhruvasandhi and Prasenajit.\nBharat was Dhruvasandhi\u2019s son,\nAnd glorious fame that monarch won.\nThe warrior Asit he begot.\nAsit had warfare, fierce and hot,\nWith rival kings in many a spot,\nHaihayas, T\u00e1lajanghas styled,\nAnd \u015aa\u015bivindus, strong and wild.\nLong time he strove, but forced to yield\nFled from his kingdom and the field.\nWith his two wives away he fled\nWhere high Him\u00e1laya lifts his head,\nAnd, all his wealth and glory past,\nHe paid the dues of Fate at last.\nThe wives he left had both conceived\u2014\nSo is the ancient tale believed\u2014\nOne, of her rival\u2019s hopes afraid\nFell poison in her viands laid.\nIt chanced that Chyavan, Bhrigu\u2019s child,\nHad wandered to that pathless wild,\nAnd there Him\u00e1laya\u2019s lovely height\nDetained him with a strange delight.\nThere came the other widowed queen,\nWith lotus eyes and beauteous mien,\nLonging a noble son to bear,\nAnd wooed the saint with earnest prayer.\nWhen thus K\u00e1lindi,(248) fairest dame,\nWith reverent supplication came,\nTo her the holy sage replied:\n\u201cBorn with the poison from thy side,\nO happy Queen, shall spring ere long\nAn infant fortunate and strong.\nThen weep no more, and check thy sighs,\nSweet lady of the lotus eyes.\u201d\nThe queen, who loved her perished lord,\nFor meet reply, the saint adored,\nAnd, of her husband long bereaved,\nShe bore a son by him conceived.\nBecause her rival mixed the bane\nTo render her conception vain,\nAnd fruit unripened to destroy,\nSagar(249) she called her darling boy.\nTo Sagar Asamanj was heir:\nBright An\u015bum\u00e1n his consort bare.\nAn\u015bum\u00e1n\u2019s son, Dil\u00edpa famed,\nBegot a son Bhag\u00edrath named.\nFrom him the great Kakutstha rose:\nFrom him came Raghu, feared by foes,\nOf him sprang Purush\u00e1dak bold,\nFierce hero of gigantic mould:\nKalm\u00e1shap\u00e1da\u2019s name he bore,\nBecause his feet were spotted o\u2019er.(250)\nFrom him came \u015aanka\u1e47, and from him\nSudar\u015ban, fair in face and limb.\nFrom beautiful Sudar\u015ban came\nPrince Agnivar\u1e47a, bright as flame.\nHis son was \u015a\u00edghraga, for speed\nUnmatched; and Maru was his seed.\nPra\u015bu\u015bruka was Maru\u2019s child;\nHis son was Ambar\u00edsha styled.\nNahush was Ambar\u00edsha\u2019s heir,\nThe mighty lord of regions fair:\nNahush begot Yay\u00e1ti: he,\nN\u00e1bh\u00e1g of happy destiny.\nSon of N\u00e1bh\u00e1g was Aja: his,\nThe glorious Da\u015baratha is,\nWhose noble children boast to be\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47, whom we see.\nThus do those kings of purest race\nTheir lineage from Ikshv\u00e1ku trace:\nTheir hero lives the right maintained,\nTheir lips with falsehood ne\u2019er were stained.\nIn R\u00e1ma\u2019s and in Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s name\nThy daughters as their wives I claim,\nSo shall in equal bands be tied\nEach peerless youth with peerless bride.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXI. Janak\u2019s Pedigree.\n\n\nThen to the saint supremely wise\nKing Janak spoke in suppliant guise:\n\u201cDeign, Hermit, with attentive ear,\nMv race\u2019s origin to hear.\nWhen kings a daughter\u2019s hand bestow,\n\u2019Tis right their line and fame to show.\nThere was a king whose deeds and worth\nSpread wide his name through heaven and earth,\nNimi, most virtuous e\u2019en from youth,\nThe best of all who love the truth.\nHis son and heir was Mithi, and\nHis Janak, first who ruled this land.\nHe left a son Ud\u00e1vasu,\nBlest with all virtues, good and true.\nHis son was Nandivardhan, dear\nFor pious heart and worth sincere.\nHis son Suketu, hero brave,\nTo Devar\u00e1t, existence gave.\nKing Devar\u00e1t, a royal sage,\nFor virtue, glory of the age,\nBegot Vrihadratha; and he\nBegot, his worthy heir to be,\nThe splendid hero Mah\u00e1b\u00edr\nWho long in glory governed here.\nHis son was Sudhriti, a youth\nFirm in his purpose, brave in sooth,\nHis son was Dhris\u1e6daketu, blest\nWith pious will and holy breast.\nThe fame of royal saint he won:\nHarya\u015bva was his princely son.\nHarya\u015bva\u2019s son was Maru, who\nBegot Prat\u00edndhak, wise and true.\nNext K\u00edrtiratha held the throne,\nHis son, for gentle virtues known.\nThen followed Devamidha, then\nVibudh, Mah\u00e1ndhrak, kings of men.\nMah\u00e1ndhrak\u2019s son, of boundless might,\nWas K\u00edrtir\u00e1t, who loved the right.\nHe passed away, a sainted king,\nAnd Mah\u00e1rom\u00e1 following\nTo Swar\u1e47arom\u00e1 left the state.\nThen Hra\u015bvarom\u00e1, good and great,\nSucceeded, and to him a pair\nOf sons his royal consort bare,\nElder of these I boast to be:\nBrave Ku\u015badhwaj is next to me.(251)\nMe then, the elder of the twain,\nMy sire anointed here to reign.\nHe bade me tend my brother well,\nThen to the forest went to dwell.\nHe sought the heavens, and I sustained\nThe burden as by law ordained,\nAnd noble Ku\u015badhwaj, the peer\nOf Gods, I ever held most dear.\nThen came S\u00e1nk\u00e1\u015by\u00e1\u2019s mighty lord,\nSudhanv\u00e1, threatening siege and sword,\nAnd bade me swift on him bestow\n\u015aiva\u2019s incomparable bow,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 of the lotus eyes:\nBut I refused each peerless prize.\nThen, host to host, we met the foes,\nAnd fierce the din of battle rose,\nSudhanv\u00e1, foremost of his band,\nFell smitten by my single hand.\nWhen thus S\u00e1nk\u00e1\u015by\u00e1\u2019s lord was slain,\nI sanctified, as laws ordain,\nMy brother in his stead to reign,\nThus are we brothers, Saint most high\nThe younger he, the elder I.\nNow, mighty Sage, my spirit joys\nTo give these maidens to the boys.\nLet S\u00edt\u00e1 be to R\u00e1ma tied.\nAnd Urmil\u00e1 be Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s bride.\nFirst give, O King, the gift of cows,\nAs dowry of each royal spouse,\nDue offerings to the spirits pay,\nAnd solemnize the wedding-day.\nThe moon tonight, O royal Sage,\nIn Magh\u00e1\u2019s(252) House takes harbourage;\nOn the third night his rays benign\nIn second Ph\u00e1lguni(253) will shine:\nBe that the day, with prosperous fate,\nThe nuptial rites to celebrate.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXII. The Gift Of Kine.\n\n\nWhen royal Janak\u2019s words were done,\nJoined with Va\u015bish\u1e6dha Ku\u015bik\u2019s son,\nThe mighty sage began his speech:\n\u201cNo mind may soar, no thought can reach\nThe glories of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line,\nOr, great Videha\u2019s King, of thine:\nNone in the whole wide world may vie\nWith them in fame and honours high.\nWell matched, I ween, in holy bands,\nThese peerless pairs will join their hands.\nBut hear me as I speak once more;\nThy brother, skilled in duty\u2019s lore,\nHas at his home a royal pair\nOf daughters most divinely fair.\nI for the hands of these sweet two\nFor Bharat and \u015aatrughna sue,\nBoth princes of heroic mould,\nWise, fair of form, and lofty-souled.\nAll Da\u015baratha\u2019s sons, I ween,\nOwn each young grace of form and mien:\nBrave as the Gods are they, nor yield\nTo the great Lords the worlds who shield.\nBy these, good Prince of merits high,\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s house with thine ally.\u201d\n\n  The suit the holy sage preferred,\nWith willing ear the monarch heard:\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s lips the counsel praised:\nThen spake the king with hands upraised:\n\u201cNow blest indeed my race I deem,\nWhich your high will, O Saints supreme,\nWith Da\u015baratha\u2019s house unites\nIn bonds of love and marriage rites.\nSo be it done. My nieces twain\nLet Bharat and \u015aatrughna gain,\nAnd the four youths the selfsame day\nFour maiden hands in theirs shall lay.\nNo day so lucky may compare,\nFor marriage\u2014so the wise declare\u2014\nWith the last day of Ph\u00e1lguni\nRuled by the genial deity.\u201d\nThen with raised hands in reverence due\nTo those arch-saints he spoke anew:\n\u201cI am your pupil, ever true:\nTo me high favour have ye shown;\nCome, sit ye on my royal throne,\nFor Da\u015baratha rules these towers\nE\u2019en as Ayodhy\u00e1 now is ours.\nDo with your own whate\u2019er ye choose:\nYour lordship here will none refuse.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and to Videha\u2019s king\nThus Da\u015baratha, answering:\n\u201cBoundless your virtues, lords, whose sway\nThe realms of Mithil\u00e1 obey.\nWith honouring care you entertain.\nBoth holy sage and royal train.\nNow to my house my steps I bend\u2014\nMay blessings still on you at end\u2014\nDue offerings to the shades to pay.\u201d\nThus spoke the king, and turned away:\nTo Janak first he bade adieu,\nThen followed fast those holy two.\nThe monarch reached his palace where\nThe rites were paid with solemn care.\nWhen the next sun began to shine\nHe rose and made his gift of kine.\nA hundred thousand cows prepared\nFor each young prince the Br\u00e1hmans shared.\nEach had her horns adorned with gold;\nAnd duly was the number told,\nFour hundred thousand perfect tale:\nEach brought a calf, each filled a pail.\nAnd when that glorious task was o\u2019er,\nThe monarch with his children four,\nShowed like the Lord of Life divine\nWhen the worlds\u2019 guardians round him shine.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIII. The Nuptials.\n\n\nOn that same day that saw the king\nHis gift of kine distributing,\nThe lord of Kekaya\u2019s son, by name\nYudh\u00e1jit, Bharat\u2019s uncle, came,\nAsked of the monarch\u2019s health, and then\nAddressed the reverend king of men:\n\u201cThe lord of Kekaya\u2019s realm by me\nSends greeting, noble King, to thee:\nAsks if the friends thy prayers would bless\nUninterrupted health possess.\nRight anxious, mighty King, is he\nMy sister\u2019s princely boy to see.\nFor this I sought Ayodhy\u00e1 fair\nThe message of my sire to bear.\nThere learning, O my liege, that thou\nWith sons and noble kinsmen now\nWast resting here, I sought the place\nLonging to see my nephew\u2019s face.\u201d\nThe king with kind observance cheered\nHis friend by tender ties endeared,\nAnd every choicest honour pressed\nUpon his honourable guest.\n\n  That night with all his children spent,\nAt morn King Da\u015baratha went,\nBehind Va\u015bish\u1e6dha and the rest,\nTo the fair ground for rites addressed.\nThen when the lucky hour was nigh\nCalled Victory, of omen high,\nCame R\u00e1ma, after vow and prayer\nFor nuptial bliss and fortune fair,\nWith the three youths in bright attire,\nAnd stood beside his royal sire.\nTo Janak then Va\u015bish\u1e6dha sped,\nAnd to Videha\u2019s monarch said:\n\u201cO King, Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s ruler now\nHas breathed the prayer and vowed the vow,\nAnd with his sons expecting stands\nThe giver of the maidens\u2019 hands.\nThe giver and the taker both\nMust ratify a mutual oath.\nPerform the part for which we wait,\nAnd rites of marriage celebrate.\u201d\n\n  Skilled in the laws which Scriptures teach,\nHe answered thus Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s speech:\n\u201cO Saint, what warder bars the gate?\nWhose bidding can the king await?\nIn one\u2019s own house what doubt is shown?\nThis kingdom, Sage, is all thine own.\nE\u2019en now the maidens may be found\nWithin the sacrificial ground:\nEach vow is vowed and prayed each prayer,\nAnd they, like fire, are shining there.\nHere by the shrine my place I took\nExpecting thee with eager look,\nNo bar the nuptial rites should stay:\nWhat cause have we for more delay?\u201d\nWhen Janak\u2019s speech the monarch heard,\nTo sons and saints he gave the word,\nAnd set them in the holy ring,\nThen to Va\u015bish\u1e6dha spoke the king\nOf Mithil\u00e1: \u201cO mighty Sage,\nNow let this task thy care engage,\nAnd lend thine aid and counsel wise\nThe nuptial rites to solemnize.\u201d\n\n  The saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha gave assent,\nAnd quickly to the task he went,\nWith Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, nothing loth,\nAnd \u015aat\u00e1nanda aiding both.\nThen, as the rules prescribe, they made\nAn altar in the midst, and laid\nFresh wreaths of fragrant flowers thereon.\nThe golden ladles round it shone;\nAnd many a vase, which branches hid\nFixed in the perforated lid,\nAnd sprays, and cups, and censers there\nStood filled with incense rich and rare;\nShell-bowls, and spoons, and salvers dressed\nWith gifts that greet the honoured guest;\nPiles of parched rice some dishes bore,\nOthers with corn prepared ran o\u2019er;\nAnd holy grass was duly spread\nIn equal lengths, while prayers were said.\nNext chief of saints, Va\u015bish\u1e6dha came\nAnd laid the offering in the flame.\nThen by the hand King Janak drew\nHis S\u00edt\u00e1, beautiful to view,\nAnd placed her, bright in rich attire,\nR\u00e1ma to face, before the fire,\nThus speaking to the royal boy\nWho filled Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s heart with joy:\n\u201cHere S\u00edt\u00e1 stands, my daughter fair,\nThe duties of thy life to share.\nTake from her father, take thy bride;\nJoin hand to hand, and bliss betide!\nA faithful wife, most blest is she,\nAnd as thy shade will follow thee.\u201d\n\n  Thus as he spoke the monarch threw\nO\u2019er her young limbs the holy dew,\nWhile Gods and saints were heard to swell\nThe joyous cry, \u2019Tis well! \u2019Tis well!\nHis daughter S\u00edt\u00e1 thus bestowed,\nO\u2019er whom the sacred drops had flowed.\nKing Janak\u2019s heart with rapture glowed.\nThen to Prince Lakshma\u1e47 thus he cried:\n\u201cTake Urmil\u00e1 thine offered bride,\nAnd clasp her hand within thine own\nEre yet the lucky hour be flown.\u201d\nThen to Prince Bharat thus cried he;\n\u201cCome, take the hand of M\u00e1ndavi.\u201d\nThen to \u015aatrughna: \u201cIn thy grasp\nThe hand of Srutak\u00edrti clasp.\nNow, Raghu\u2019s sons, may all of you\nBe gentle to your wives and true;\nKeep well the vows you make to-day,\nNor let occasion slip away.\u201d\n\n  King Janak\u2019s word the youths obeyed;\nThe maidens\u2019 hands in theirs they laid.\nThen with their brides the princes went\nWith ordered steps and reverent\nRound both the fire and Janak, round\nThe sages and the sacred ground.\n\n  A flowery flood of lucid dyes\nIn rain descended from the skies,\nWhile with celestial voices blent\nSweet strains from many an instrument,\nAnd the nymphs danced in joyous throng\nResponsive to the minstrel\u2019s song.\nSuch signs of exultation they\nSaw on the princes\u2019 wedding day.\nStill rang the heavenly music\u2019s sound\nWhen Raghu\u2019s sons thrice circled round\nThe fire, each one with reverent head,\nAnd homeward then their brides they led.\nThey to the sumptuous palace hied\nThat Janak\u2019s care had seen supplied.\nThe monarch girt with saint and peer\nStill fondly gazing followed near.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIV. R\u00e1ma With The Axe.(254)\n\n\nSoon as the night had reached its close\nThe hermit Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra rose;\nTo both the kings he bade adieu\nAnd to the northern hill withdrew.\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s lord of high renown\nReceived farewell, and sought his town.\nThen as each daughter left her bower\nKing Janak gave a splendid dower,\nRugs, precious silks, a warrior force,\nCars, elephants, and foot, and horse,\nDivine to see and well arrayed;\nAnd many a skilful tiring-maid,\nAnd many a young and trusty slave\nThe father of the ladies gave.\nSilver and coral, gold and pearls\nHe gave to his beloved girls.\nThese precious gifts the king bestowed\nAnd sped his guest upon his road.\nThe lord of Mithil\u00e1\u2019s sweet town\nRode to his court and lighted down.\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s monarch, glad and gay,\nLed by the seers pursued his way\nWith his dear sons of lofty mind:\nThe royal army marched behind.\nAs on he fared the voice he heard\nAround of many a dismal bird,\nAnd every beast in wild affright\nBegan to hurry to the right.\nThe monarch to Va\u015bish\u1e6dha cried:\n\u201cWhat strange misfortune will betide?\nWhy do the beasts in terror fly,\nAnd birds of evil omen cry?\nWhat is it shakes my heart with dread?\nWhy is my soul disquieted?\u201d\n\n  Soon as he heard, the mighty saint\nThus answered Da\u015baratha\u2019s plaint\nIn sweetest tone: \u201cNow, Monarch, mark,\nAnd learn from me the meaning dark.\nThe voices of the birds of air\nGreat peril to the host declare:\nThe moving beasts the dread allay,\nSo drive thy whelming fear away,\u201d\n\n  As he and Da\u015baratha spoke\nA tempest from the welkin broke,\nThat shook the spacious earth amain\nAnd hurled high trees upon the plain.\nThe sun grew dark with murky cloud,\nAnd o\u2019er the skies was cast a shroud,\nWhile o\u2019er the army, faint with dread,\nA veil of dust and ashes spread.\nKing, princes, saints their sense retained,\nFear-stupefied the rest remained.\nAt length, their wits returning, all\nBeneath the gloom and ashy pall\nSaw Jamadagni\u2019s son with dread,\nHis long hair twisted round his head,\nWho, sprung from Bhrigu, loved to beat\nThe proudest kings beneath his feet.\nFirm as Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s hill he showed,\nFierce as the fire of doom he glowed.\nHis axe upon his shoulder lay,\nHis bow was ready for the fray,\nWith thirsty arrows wont to fly\nLike Lightnings from the angry sky.\nA long keen arrow forth he drew,\nInvincible like those which flew\nFrom \u015aiva\u2019s ever-conquering bow\nAnd Tripura in death laid low.\n\n  When his wild form, that struck with awe,\nFearful as ravening flame, they saw,\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha and the saints whose care\nWas sacrifice and muttered prayer,\nDrew close together, each to each,\nAnd questioned thus with bated speech:\n\u201cIndignant at his father\u2019s fate\nWill he on warriors vent his hate,\nThe slayers of his father slay,\nAnd sweep the loathed race away?\nBut when of old his fury raged\nSeas of their blood his wrath assuaged:\nSo doubtless now he has not planned\nTo slay all warriors in the land.\u201d\n\n  Then with a gift the saints drew near\nTo Bhrigu\u2019s son whose look was fear,\nAnd R\u00e1ma! R\u00e1ma! soft they cried.\nThe gift he took, no word replied.\nThen Bhrigu\u2019s son his silence broke\nAnd thus to R\u00e1ma R\u00e1ma spoke:\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXV. The Parle.\n\n\n\u201cHeroic R\u00e1ma, men proclaim\nThe marvels of thy matchless fame,\nAnd I from loud-voiced rumour know\nThe exploit of the broken bow,\nYea, bent and broken, mighty Chief,\nA feat most wondrous, past belief.\nStirred by thy fame thy face I sought:\nA peerless bow I too have brought.\nThis mighty weapon, strong and dire,\nGreat Jamadagni owned, my sire.\nDraw with its shaft my father\u2019s bow,\nAnd thus thy might, O R\u00e1ma, show.\nThis proof of prowess let me see\u2014\nThe weapon bent and drawn by thee;\nThen single fight our strength shall try,\nAnd this shall raise thy glory high.\u201d\n\n  King Da\u015baratha heard with dread\nThe boastful speech, and thus he said;\nRaising his hands in suppliant guise,\nWith pallid cheek and timid eyes:\n\u201cForgetful of the bloody feud\nAscetic toils hast thou pursued;\nThen, Br\u00e1hman, let thy children be\nUntroubled and from danger free.\nSprung of the race of Bhrigu, who\nRead holy lore, to vows most true,\nThou swarest to the Thousand-eyed\nAnd thy fierce axe was cast aside.\nThou turnedst to thy rites away\nLeaving the earth to Ka\u015byap\u2019s sway,\nAnd wentest far a grove to seek\nBeneath Mahendra\u2019s(255) mountain peak.\nNow, mighty Hermit, art thou here\nTo slay us all with doom severe?\nFor if alone my R\u00e1ma fall,\nWe share his fate and perish all.\u201d\n\n  As thus the aged sire complained\nThe mighty chief no answer deigned.\nTo R\u00e1ma only thus he cried:\n\u201cTwo bows, the Heavenly Artist\u2019s pride,\nCelestial, peerless, vast, and strong,\nBy all the worlds were honoured long.\nOne to the Three-eyed God(256) was given,\nBy glory to the conflict driven,\nThus armed fierce Tripura he slew:\nAnd then by thee \u2019twas burst in two.\nThe second bow, which few may brave,\nThe highest Gods to Vish\u1e47u gave.\nThis bow I hold; before it fall\nThe foeman\u2019s fenced tower and wall.\nThen prayed the Gods the Sire Most High\nBy some unerring proof to try\nWere praise for might Lord Vish\u1e47u\u2019s due,\nOr his whose Neck is stained with Blue.(257)\nThe mighty Sire their wishes knew,\nAnd he whose lips are ever true\nCaused the two Gods to meet as foes.\nThen fierce the rage of battle rose:\nBristled in dread each starting hair\nAs \u015aiva strove with Vish\u1e47u there.\nBut Vish\u1e47u raised his voice amain.\nAnd \u015aiva\u2019s bowstring twanged in vain;\nIts master of the Three bright Eyes\nStood fixt in fury and surprise.\nThen all the dwellers in the sky,\nMinstrel, and saint, and God drew nigh,\nAnd prayed them that the strife might cease,\nAnd the great rivals met in peace.\n\u2019Twas seen how \u015aiva\u2019s bow has failed\nUnnerved, when Vish\u1e47u\u2019s might assailed,\nAnd Gods and heavenly sages thence\nTo Vishnu gave pre\u00ebminence.\nThen glorious \u015aiva in his rage\nGave it to Devar\u00e1t the sage\nWho ruled Videha\u2019s fertile land,\nTo pass it down from hand to hand.\nBut this my bow, whose shafts smite down\nThe foeman\u2019s fenced tower and town,\nTo great Rich\u00edka Vish\u1e47u lent\nTo be a pledge and ornament,\nThen Jamadagni, Br\u00e1hman dread,\nMy sire, the bow inherited.\nBut Arjun stooped to treachery vile\nAnd slew my noble sire by guile,\nWhose penance awful strength had gained,\nWhose hand the God-given bow retained.\nI heard indignant how he fell\nBy mournful fate, too sad to tell.\nMy vengeful fury since that time\nScourges all Warriors for the crime.\nAs generations spring to life\nI war them down in endless strife.\nAll earth I brought beneath my sway,\nAnd gave it for his meed and pay\nTo holy Ka\u015byap, when of yore\nThe rites performed by him were o\u2019er.\nThen to Mahendra\u2019s hill I turned\nStrong in the strength that penance earned,\nAnd toiled upon his lofty head\nBy Gods immortal visited.\nThe breaking of the bow I knew\nFrom startled Gods conversing, through\nThe airy regions, of thy deed,\nAnd hither came with swiftest speed.\nNow, for thy Warrior\u2019s honour sake,\nThis best of bows, O R\u00e1ma, take:\nThis, owned by Vish\u1e47u\u2019s self of old,\nMy sire and grandsire loved to hold.\nDrawn to its head upon the string,\nOne town-destroying arrow bring;\nIf this thou can, O hero, I\nIn single fight thy strength will try.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.\n\n\nThe haughty challenge, undeterred\nThe son of Da\u015baratha heard,\nAnd cried, while reverence for his sire\nChecked the full torrent of his ire:\n\u201cBefore this day have I been told\nThe deed that stained thy hands of old.\nBut pity bids my soul forget:\nThy father, murdered, claimed the debt.\nMy strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight,\nToo feeble for a Warrior\u2019s might.\nNow will I show thy wondering eyes\nThe prowess which they dare despise.\u201d\n\n  He hastened then with graceful ease\nThat mighty bow and shaft to seize.\nHis hand the weapon strung and swayed:\nThe arrow on the string was laid.\nThen Jamadagni\u2019s son he eyed,\nAnd thus in words of fury cried:\n\u201cThou art a Br\u00e1hman, still to be\nMost highly honoured, Chief, by me.\nFor Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s sake beside\nShall reverence due be ne\u2019er denied.\nThough mine the power, I would not send\nA dart at thee thy life to end.\nBut thy great power to wander free,\nWhich penance-rites have won for thee,\nOr glorious worlds from thee to wrest,\nIs the firm purpose of my breast,\nAnd Vish\u1e47u\u2019s dart which now I strain\nCan ne\u2019er be shot to fall in vain:\nIt strikes the mighty, and it stuns\nThe madness of the haughty ones.\u201d\n\n  Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir\nPreceded by the General Sire,\nMet in the air and gazed below\nOn R\u00e1ma with that wondrous bow.\nNymph, minstrel, angel, all were there,\nSnake-God, and spirit of the air,\nGiant, and bard, and gryphon, met,\nTheir eyes upon the marvel set.\nIn senseless hush the world was chained\nWhile R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand the bow retained,\nAnd Jamadagni\u2019s son amazed\nAnd powerless on the hero gazed.\nThen when his swelling heart had shrunk,\nAnd his proud strength in torpor sunk,\nScarce his voice ventured, low and weak,\nTo R\u00e1ma lotus-eyed, to speak:\n\u201cWhen long ago I gave away\nThe whole broad land to Ka\u015byap\u2019s sway\nHe charged me never to remain\nWithin the limits of his reign.\nObedient to my guide\u2019s behest\nOn earth by night I never rest.\nMy choice is made, I will not dim\nMine honour and be false to him.\nSo, son of Raghu, leave me still\nThe power to wander where I will,\nAnd swifter than the thought my flight\nShall place me on Mahendra\u2019s height.\nMy mansions of eternal joy,\nBy penance won, thou mayst destroy,\nMy path to these thy shaft may stay.\nNow to the work! No more delay!\nI know thee Lord of Gods; I know\nThy changeless might laid Madhu low.\nAll other hands would surely fail\nTo bend this bow. All hail! all hail!\nSee! all the Gods have left the skies\nTo bend on thee their eager eyes,\nWith whose achievements none compete,\nWhose arm in war no God can meet.\nNo shame is mine, I ween, for thou,\nLord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow.\nNow, pious R\u00e1ma, \u2019tis thy part\nTo shoot afar that glorious dart:\nI, when the fatal shaft is shot,\nWill seek that hill and tarry not.\u201d\n\n  He ceased. The wondrous arrow flew,\nAnd Jamadagni\u2019s offspring knew\nThose glorious worlds to him were barred,\nOnce gained by penance long and hard.\nThen straight the airy quarters cleared,\nAnd the mid regions bright appeared,\nWhile Gods and saints unnumbered praised\nR\u00e1ma, the mighty bow who raised.\nAnd Jamadagni\u2019s son, o\u2019erawed.\nExtolled his name with highest laud,\nWith reverent steps around him strode,\nThen hastened on his airy road.\nFar from the sight of all he fled,\nAnd rested on Mahendra\u2019s head.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXVII. Bharat\u2019s Departure.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma with a cheerful mind\nThe bow to Varu\u1e47\u2019s hand resigned.\nDue reverence to the saints he paid,\nAnd thus addressed his sire dismayed:\n\u201cAs Bhrigu\u2019s son is far from view,\nNow let the host its march pursue,\nAnd to Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town proceed\nIn four-fold bands, with thee to lead.\u201d\n\n  King Da\u015baratha thus addressed\nHis lips to R\u00e1ma\u2019s forehead pressed,\nAnd held him to his aged breast.\nRejoiced in sooth was he to know\nThat Bhrigu\u2019s son had parted so,\nAnd hailed a second life begun\nFor him and his victorious son.\nHe urged the host to speed renewed,\nAnd soon Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s gates he viewed.\nHigh o\u2019er the roofs gay pennons played;\nTabour and drum loud music made;\nFresh water cooled the royal road,\nAnd flowers in bright profusion glowed.\nGlad crowds with garlands thronged the ways\nRejoicing on their king to gaze\nAnd all the town was bright and gay\nExalting in the festive day.\nPeople and Br\u00e1hmans flocked to meet\nTheir monarch ere he gained the street.\nThe glorious king amid the throng\nRode with his glorious sons along,\nAnd passed within his dear abode\nThat like Him\u00e1laya\u2019s mountain showed.\nAnd there Kau\u015baly\u00e1, noble queen,\nSumitr\u00e1 with her lovely mien,\nKaikey\u00ed of the dainty waist,\nAnd other dames his bowers who graced,\nStood in the palace side by side\nAnd welcomed home each youthful bride:\nFair S\u00edt\u00e1, lofty-fated dame,\nUrmil\u00e1 of the glorious fame,\nAnd Ku\u015badhwaj\u2019s children fair,\nWith joyous greeting and with prayer,\nAs all in linen robes arrayed\nWith offerings at the altars prayed.\nDue reverence paid to God above,\nEach princess gave her soul to love,\nAnd hidden in her inmost bower\nPassed with her lord each blissful hour.\nThe royal youths, of spirit high,\nWith whom in valor none could vie,\nLived each within his palace bounds\nBright as Kuvera\u2019s pleasure-grounds,\nWith riches, troops of faithful friends,\nAnd bliss that wedded life attends:\nBrave princes trained in warlike skill,\nAnd duteous to their father\u2019s will.\nAt length the monarch called one morn\nPrince Bharat, of Kaikey\u00ed born,\nAnd cried: \u201cMy son, within our gates\nLord Yudh\u00e1jit thine uncle waits.\nThe son of Kekaya\u2019s king is he,\nAnd came, my child, to summon thee.\u201d\n\n  Then Bharat for the road prepared,\nAnd with \u015aatrughna forth he fared.\nFirst to his sire he bade adieu,\nBrave R\u00e1ma, and his mothers too.\nLord Yudh\u00e1jit with joyful pride\nWent forth, the brothers by his side,\nAnd reached the city where he dwelt:\nAnd mighty joy his father felt.\n\n  R\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 honoured still\nTheir godlike sire with duteous will.\nTwo constant guides for R\u00e1ma stood,\nHis father\u2019s wish, the people\u2019s good.\nAttentive to the general weal\nHe thought and wrought to please and heal.\nHis mothers too he strove to please\nWith love and sonly courtesies.\nAt every time, in every spot,\nHis holy guides he ne\u2019er forgot.\nSo for his virtues kind and true\nDearer and dearer R\u00e1ma grew\nTo Da\u015baratha, Br\u00e1hmans, all\nIn town and country, great and small.\nAnd R\u00e1ma by his darling\u2019s side\nSaw many a blissful season glide,\nLodged in her soul, each thought on her,\nLover, and friend, and worshipper.\nHe loved her for his father\u2019s voice\nHad given her and approved the choice:\nHe loved her for each charm she wore\nAnd her sweet virtues more and more.\nSo he her lord and second life\nDwelt in the bosom of his wife,\nIn double form, that, e\u2019en apart,\nEach heart could commune free with heart.\n\n  Still grew that child of Janak\u2019s race,\nMore goddess-fair in form and face,\nThe loveliest wife that e\u2019er was seen,\nIn mortal mould sweet Beauty\u2019s Queen.\nThen shone the son Kau\u015baly\u00e1 bore,\n  With this bright dame allied,\nLike Vish\u1e47u whom the Gods adore,\n  With Lakshmi by his side.\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II.\n\n\n\n\nCanto I. The Heir Apparent.\n\n\nSo Bharat to his grandsire went\nObedient to the message sent,\nAnd for his fond companion chose\n\u015aatrughna slayer of his foes.(258)\nThere Bharat for a time remained\nWith love and honour entertained,\nKing A\u015bvapati\u2019s constant care,\nBeloved as a son and heir.\nYet ever, as they lived at ease,\nWhile all around combined to please,\nThe aged sire they left behind\nWas present to each hero\u2019s mind.\nNor could the king\u2019s fond memory stray\nFrom his brave children far away,\nDear Bharat and \u015aatrughna dear,\nEach Varu\u1e47\u2019s match or Indra\u2019s peer.\n\n  To all the princes, young and brave,\nHis soul with fond affection clave;\nAround his loving heart they clung\nLike arms from his own body sprung.(259)\nBut best and noblest of the four,\nGood as the God whom all adore,\nLord of all virtues, undefiled,\nHis darling was his eldest child.\nFor he was beautiful and strong,\nFrom envy free, the foe of wrong,\nWith all his father\u2019s virtues blest,\nAnd peerless in the world confessed.\nWith placid soul he softly spoke:\nNo harsh reply could taunts provoke.\nHe ever loved the good and sage\nRevered for virtue and for age,\nAnd when his martial tasks were o\u2019er\nSate listening to their peaceful lore.\nWise, modest, pure, he honoured eld,\nHis lips from lying tales withheld;\nDue reverence to the Br\u00e1hmans gave,\nAnd ruled each passion like a slave.\nMost tender, prompt at duty\u2019s call,\nLoved by all men he loved them all.\nProud of the duties of his race,\nWith spirit meet for Warrior\u2019s place.\nHe strove to win by glorious deed,\nThroned with the Gods, a priceless meed.\nWith him in speech and quick reply\nVrihaspati might hardly vie,\nBut never would his accents flow\nFor evil or for empty show.\nIn art and science duly trained,\nHis student vow he well maintained;\nHe learnt the lore for princes fit,\nThe Vedas and their Holy Writ,\nAnd with his well-drawn bow at last\nHis mighty father\u2019s fame surpassed.\nOf birth exalted, truthful, just,\nWith vigorous hand, with noble trust,\nWell taught by aged twice-born men\nWho gain and right could clearly ken,\nFull well the claims and bounds he knew\nOf duty, gain, and pleasure too:\nOf memory keen, of ready tact,\nIn civil business prompt to act.\nReserved, his features ne\u2019er disclosed\nWhat counsel in his heart reposed.\nAll idle rage and mirth controlled,\nHe knew the times to give and hold,\nFirm in his faith, of steadfast will,\nHe sought no wrong, he spoke no ill:\nNot rashly swift, not idly slow,\nHis faults and others\u2019 keen to know.\nEach merit, by his subtle sense;\nHe matched with proper recompense.\nHe knew the means that wealth provide,\nAnd with keen eye expense could guide.\nWild elephants could he reclaim,\nAnd mettled steeds could mount and tame.\nNo arm like his the bow could wield,\nOr drive the chariot to the field.\nSkilled to attack, to deal the blow,\nOr lead a host against the foe:\nYea, e\u2019en infuriate Gods would fear\nTo meet his arm in full career.\nAs the great sun in noontide blaze\nIs glorious with his world of rays,\nSo R\u00e1ma with these virtues shone\nWhich all men loved to gaze upon.\n\n  The aged monarch fain would rest,\nAnd said within his weary breast,\n\u201cOh that I might, while living yet,\nMy R\u00e1ma o\u2019er the kingdom set.\nAnd see, before my course be run,\nThe hallowed drops anoint my son;\nSee all this spacious land obey,\nFrom side to side, my first-born\u2019s sway,\nAnd then, my life and joy complete,\nObtain in heaven a blissful seat!\u201d\nIn him the monarch saw combined\nThe fairest form, the noblest mind,\nAnd counselled how his son might share,\nThe throne with him as Regent Heir.\nFor fearful signs in earth and sky,\nAnd weakness warned him death was nigh:\nBut R\u00e1ma to the world endeared\nBy every grace his bosom cheered,\nThe moon of every eye, whose ray\nDrove all his grief and fear away.\nSo duty urged that hour to seize,\nHimself, his realm, to bless and please.\n\n  From town and country, far and near,\nHe summoned people, prince, and peer.\nTo each he gave a meet abode,\nAnd honoured all and gifts bestowed.\nThen, splendid in his king\u2019s attire,\nHe viewed them, as the general Sire,\nIn glory of a God arrayed,\nLooks on the creatures he has made.\nBut Kekaya\u2019s king he called not then\nFor haste, nor Janak, lord of men;\nFor after to each royal friend\nThe joyful tidings he would send.\nMid crowds from distant countries met\nThe king upon his throne was set;\nThen honoured by the people, all\nThe rulers thronged into the hall.\nOn thrones assigned, each king in place\nLooked silent on the monarch\u2019s face.\n  Then girt by lords of high renown\n  And throngs from hamlet and from town\n  He showed in regal pride,\nAs, honoured by the radiant band\nOf blessed Gods that round him stand,\nLord Indra, Thousand-eyed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto II. The People\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThen to the full assembly bowed\nThe monarch, and addressed the crowd\nWith gracious speech, in accents loud\nAs heavenly drum or thunder-cloud:\n\n  \u201cNeeds not to you who know declare\nHow ever with paternal care\nMy fathers of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line\nHave ruled the realm which now is mine.\nI too have taught my feet to tread\nThe pathway of the mighty dead,\nAnd with fond care that never slept\nHave, as I could, my people kept.\nSo toiling still, and ne\u2019er remiss\nFor all my people\u2019s weal and bliss,\nBeneath the white umbrella\u2019s(260) shade.\nOld age is come and strength decayed.\nThousands of years have o\u2019er me flown,\nAnd generations round me grown\nAnd passed away. I crave at length\nRepose and ease for broken strength.\nFeeble and worn I scarce can bear\nThe ruler\u2019s toil, the judge\u2019s care,\nWith royal dignity, a weight\nThat tries the young and temperate.\nI long to rest, my labour done,\nAnd in my place to set my son,\nIf to the twice-born gathered here\nMy counsel wise and good appear.\nFor greater gifts than mine adorn\nR\u00e1ma my son, my eldest-born.\nLike Indra brave, before him fall\nThe foeman\u2019s cities, tower and wall.\nHim prince of men for power and might,\nThe best maintainer of the right,\nFair as the moon when nothing bars\nHis glory close to Pushya\u2019s stars,\nHim with to-morrow\u2019s light I fain\nWould throne the consort of my reign.\nA worthy lord for you, I ween,\nMarked as her own by Fortune\u2019s Queen.\nThe triple world itself would be\nWell ruled by such a king as he.\nTo such high bliss and happy fate\nWill I the country dedicate,\nAnd my sad heart will cease to grieve\nIf he the precious charge receive.\nThus is my careful plan matured,\nThus for myself is rest secured;\nLieges, approve the words I say,\nOr point ye out some wiser way.\nDevise your prudent plan. My mind\nIs fondly to this thought inclined,\nBut men by keen debating move\nSome middle course which all approve.\u201d\n\n  The monarch ceased. In answer came\nThe joyous princes\u2019 glad acclaim.\nSo peacocks in the rain rejoice\nAnd hail the cloud with lifted voice.\nMurmurs of joy from thousands round\nShook the high palace with the sound.\nThen when the gathered throng had learned\nHis will who right and gain discerned,\nPeasant and townsman, priest and chief,\nAll met in consultation brief,\nAnd soon agreed with one accord\nGave answer to their sovereign lord:\n\u201cKing of the land, we know thee old:\nThousands of years have o\u2019er thee rolled,\nR\u00e1ma thy son, we pray, anoint,\nAnd at thy side his place appoint\nOur gallant prince, so brave and strong,\nRiding in royal state along,\nOur eyes with joyful pride will see\nScreened by the shade that shelters thee.\u201d\nThen spake the king again, as though\nTheir hearts\u2019 true wish he sought to know:\n\u201cThese prayers for R\u00e1ma\u2019s rule suggest\nOne question to my doubting breast.\nThis thing, I pray, with truth explain:\nWhy would ye, while I justly reign,\nThat he, mine eldest son, should bear\nHis part with me as ruling heir?\u201d\nThen all the people made reply,\nPeasant and townsman, low and high:\n\u201cEach noblest gift of form and mind,\nO Monarch, in thy son we find.\nDo thou the godlike virtues hear\nWhich R\u00e1ma to our hearts endear.\nSo richly blest with graces, none\nIn all the earth excels thy son:\nNay, who to match with him may claim\nIn truth, in justice, and in fame?\nTrue to his promise, gentle, kind,\nUnenvious, of grateful mind,\nVersed in the law and firm of soul,\nHe keeps each sense with strict control.\nWith duteous care he loves to sit\nBy Br\u00e1hmans skilled in Holy Writ.\nHence brightest glory, ne\u2019er to end,\nAnd matchless fame his youth attend.\nSkilled in the use of spear and shield,\nAnd arms which heavenly warriors wield,\nSupreme in war, unconquered yet\nBy man, fiend, God in battle met,\nWhene\u2019er in pomp of war he goes\n\u2019Gainst town or city of the foes,\nHe ever comes with Lakshma\u1e47 back\nVictorious from the fierce attack.\nReturning homeward from afar\nBorne on his elephant or car,\nHe ever to the townsmen bends\nAnd greets them as beloved friends,\nAsks how each son, each servant thrives,\nHow fare our pupils, offerings, wives;\nAnd like a father bids us tell,\nEach for himself, that all is well.\nIf pain or grief the city tries\nHis heart is swift to sympathize.\nWhen festive scenes our thoughts employ\nHe like a father shares the joy.\nHigh is the fate, O King, that gave\nThy R\u00e1ma born to bless and save,\nWith filial virtues fair and mild\nLike Ka\u015byap old Mar\u00edchi\u2019s child.\nHence to the kingdom\u2019s distant ends\nOne general prayer for him ascends.\nEach man in town and country prays\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s strength, health, length of days.\nWith hearts sincere, their wish the same,\nThe tender girl, the aged dame,\nSubject and stranger, peasant, hind,\nOne thought impressed on every mind,\nAt evening and at dawning day\nTo all the Gods for R\u00e1ma pray.\nDo thou, O King, of grace comply,\nAnd hear the people\u2019s longing cry,\nAnd let us on the throne by thee\nThe lotus-tinted R\u00e1ma see.\n  O thou who givest boons, attend;\n  A gracious ear, O Monarch, lend\n    And for our weal install,\nConsenting to our earnest prayer,\nThy godlike R\u00e1ma Regent Heir,\n    Who seeks the good of all.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto III. Dasaratha\u2019s Precepts.\n\n\nThe monarch with the prayer complied\nOf suppliant hands, on every side\nUplifted like a lotus-bed:\nAnd then these gracious words he said:\n\u201cGreat joy and mighty fame are mine\nBecause your loving hearts incline,\nIn full assembly clearly shown\nTo place my R\u00e1ma on the throne.\u201d\nThen to Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, standing near,\nAnd V\u00e1madeva loud and clear\nThe monarch spoke that all might hear:\n\u201c\u2019Tis pure and lovely Chaitra now\nWhen flowers are sweet on every bough;\nAll needful things with haste prepare\nThat R\u00e1ma be appointed heir.\u201d\n\n  Then burst the people\u2019s rapture out\nIn loud acclaim and joyful shout;\nAnd when the tumult slowly ceased\nThe king addressed the holy priest:\n\u201cGive order, Saint, with watchful heed\nFor what the coming rite will need.\nThis day let all things ready wait\nMine eldest son to consecrate.\u201d\nBest of all men of second birth\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha heard the lord of earth,\nAnd gave commandment to the bands\nOf servitors with lifted hands\nWho waited on their master\u2019s eye:\n\u201cNow by to-morrow\u2019s dawn supply\nRich gold and herbs and gems of price\nAnd offerings for the sacrifice,\nWreaths of white flowers and roasted rice,\nAnd oil and honey, separate;\nNew garments and a car of state,\nAn elephant with lucky signs,\nA fourfold host in ordered lines,\nThe white umbrella, and a pair\nOf chowries,(261) and a banner fair;\nA hundred vases, row on row,\nTo shine like fire in splendid glow,\nA tiger\u2019s mighty skin, a bull\nWith gilded horns most beautiful.\nAll these, at dawn of coming day,\nAround the royal shrine array,\nWhere burns the fire\u2019s undying ray.\nEach palace door, each city gate\nWith wreaths of sandal decorate.\nAnd with the garlands\u2019 fragrant scent\nLet clouds of incense-smoke be blent.\nLet food of noble kind and taste\nBe for a hundred thousand placed;\nFresh curds with streams of milk bedewed\nTo feed the Br\u00e1hman multitude.\nWith care be all their wants supplied.\nAnd mid the twice-born chiefs divide\nRich largess, with the early morn,\nAnd oil and curds and roasted corn.\nSoon as the sun has shown his light\nPronounce the prayer to bless the rite,\nAnd then be all the Br\u00e1hmans called\nAnd in their ordered seats installed.\nLet all musicians skilled to play,\nAnd dancing-girls in bright array\nStand ready in the second ring\nWithin the palace of the king.\nEach honoured tree, each holy shrine\nWith leaves and flowery wreaths entwine,\nAnd here and there beneath the shade\nBe food prepared and presents laid.\nThen brightly clad, in warlike guise,\nWith long swords girt upon their thighs,\nLet soldiers of the nobler sort\nMarch to the monarch\u2019s splendid court.\u201d\n\n  Thus gave command the twice-born pair\nTo active servants stationed there.\nThen hastened to the king and said\nThat all their task was duly sped,\nThe king to wise Sumantra spake:\n\u201cNow quick, my lord, thy chariot take,\nAnd hither with thy swiftest speed\nMy son, my noble R\u00e1ma lead.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra, ere the word was given,\nHis chariot from the court had driven,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, best of all who ride\nIn cars, came sitting by his side.\nThe lords of men had hastened forth\nFrom east and west and south and north,\n\u00c1ryan and stranger, those who dwell\nIn the wild wood and on the fell,\nAnd as the Gods to Indra, they\nShowed honour to the king that day.\n\n  Like V\u00e1sav, when his glorious form\nIs circled by the Gods of storm,\nGirt in his hall by kings he saw\nHis car-borne R\u00e1ma near him draw,\nLike him who rules the minstrel band\nOf heaven;(262) whose valour filled the land,\nOf mighty arm and stately pride\nLike a wild elephant in stride,\nAs fair in face as that fair stone\nDear to the moon, of moonbeams grown,(263)\nWith noble gifts and grace that took\nThe hearts of all, and chained each look,\nWorld-cheering as the Lord of Rain\nWhen floods relieve the parching plain.\nThe father, as the son came nigh,\nGazed with an ever-thirstier eye.\nSumantra helped the prince alight\nFrom the good chariot passing bright,\nAnd as to meet his sire he went\nFollowed behind him reverent.\nThen R\u00e1ma clomb, the king to seek\nThat terrace like Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s peak,\nAnd reached the presence of the king,\nSumantra closely following.\nBefore his father\u2019s face he came,\nRaised suppliant hands and named his name,(264)\nAnd bowing lowly as is meet\nPaid reverence to the monarch\u2019s feet.\nBut soon as Da\u015baratha viewed\nThe prince in humble attitude,\nHe raised him by the hand in haste\nAnd his beloved son embraced,\nThen signed him to a glorious throne,\nGem-decked and golden, near his own.\nThen R\u00e1ma, best of Raghu\u2019s line,\nMade the fair seat with lustre shine\nAs when the orient sun upsprings\nAnd his pure beam on Meru flings.\nThe glory flashed on roof and wall,\nAnd with strange sheen suffused the hall,\nAs when the moon\u2019s pure rays are sent\nThrough autumn\u2019s star-lit firmament.\nThen swelled his breast with joy and pride\nAs his dear son the father eyed,\nE\u2019en as himself more fair arrayed\nIn some clear mirror\u2019s face displayed.\nThe aged monarch gazed awhile,\nThen thus addressed him with a smile,\nAs Ka\u015byap, whom the worlds revere,\nSpeaks for the Lord of Gods to hear:\n\u201cO thou of all my sons most dear,\nIn virtue best, thy father\u2019s peer,\nChild of my consort first in place,\nMine equal in her pride of race,\nBecause the people\u2019s hearts are bound\nTo thee by graces in thee found,\nBe thou in Pushya\u2019s favouring hour\nMade partner of my royal power.\nI know that thou by nature\u2019s bent\nBoth modest art and excellent,\nBut though thy gifts no counsel need\nMy love suggests the friendly rede.\nMine own dear son, be modest still,\nAnd rule each sense with earnest will.\nKeep thou the evils far away\nThat spring from love and anger\u2019s sway.\nThy noble course alike pursue\nIn secret as in open view,\nAnd every nerve, the love to gain\nOf ministers and subjects, strain.\nThe happy prince who sees with pride\nHis thriving people satisfied;\nWhose arsenals with arms are stored,\nAnd treasury with golden hoard,\u2014\nHis friends rejoice as joyed the Blest\nWhen Amrit crowned their eager quest.\nSo well, my child, thy course maintain,\nAnd from all ill thy soul refrain.\u201d\n\n  The friends of R\u00e1ma, gathered nigh,\nLonging their lord to gratify,\nRan to Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s bower to tell\nThe tidings that would please her well.\nShe, host of dames, with many a gem,\nAnd gold, and kine rewarded them.\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma paid the reverence due,\nMounted the chariot, and withdrew,\nAnd to his splendid dwelling drove\nWhile crowds to show him honour strove.\n  The people, when the monarch\u2019s speech\n    Their willing ears had heard,\n  Were wild with joy as though on each\n    Great gifts had been conferred.\n  With meek and low salute each man\n    Turned to his home away,\n  And there with happy heart began\n    To all the Gods to pray.\n\n\n\n\nCanto IV. R\u00e1ma Summoned.\n\n\nThe crowd dismissed, to high debate\nThe monarch called his peers of state,\nAnd, counsel from their lips obtained,\nFirm in his will his will explained:\n\u201cTo-morrow with auspicious ray\nThe moon in Pushya\u2019s sign will stay;\nBe that the time with happy fate\nMine eldest son to consecrate,\nAnd let my R\u00e1ma, lotus-eyed,\nAs Regent o\u2019er the state preside.\u201d\n\n  He sought, within, his charioteer,\nAnd cried \u201cAgain bring R\u00e1ma here.\u201d\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s home Sumantra hied\nAgain to be the prince\u2019s guide.\nHis coming, told to R\u00e1ma\u2019s ear,\nSuggested anxious doubt and fear.\nHe bade the messenger be led\nThat instant in, and thus he said:\n\u201cTell me the cause, omitting naught,\nWhy thou again my house hast sought.\u201d\n\n  The envoy answered: \u201cPrince, thy sire\nHas sent thy presence to require.\nMy sender known, \u2019tis thine to say\nIf thou wilt go or answer nay.\u201d\nThen R\u00e1ma, when he heard his speech,\nMade haste the royal court to reach.\nSoon as the monarch was aware\nHis dearest son was waiting there,\nEager the parley to begin\nHe bade them lead the prince within,\nSoon as he passed the chamber door\nThe hero bent him to the floor,\nAnd at a distance from his seat\nRaised his joined hands his sire to greet.\nThe monarch raised him from the ground,\nAnd loving arms about him wound,\nThen pointed to a seat that shone\nWith gold for him to rest upon.\n\u201cAged am I,\u201d he said, \u201cand worn;\nIn life\u2019s best joys my share have borne;\nRites to the Gods, in hundreds, paid,\nWith gifts of corn and largess made.\nI yearned for sons: my life is blest\nWith them and thee of sons the best.\nNo debt to saints or Br\u00e1hmans, no,\nNor spirits, Gods, or self I owe.\nOne duty now remains alone,\nTo set thee on thy father\u2019s throne.\nNow therefore, R\u00e1ma, hear my rede,\nAnd mark my words with duteous heed:\nThis day the peoples\u2019 general voice,\nElects thee king of love and choice,\nAnd I, consenting to the prayer,\nWill make thee, darling, Regent Heir.\nDread visions, each returning night,\nWith evil omens scare my sight.\nRed meteors with a fearful sound\nShoot wildly downward to the ground,\nWhile tempests lash the troubled air;\nAnd they who read the stars declare\nThat, leagued against my natal sign,\nR\u00e1hu,(265) the Sun,(266) and Mars combine.\nWhen portents dire as these appear,\nA monarch\u2019s death or woe is near.\nThen while my senses yet are spared,\nAnd thought and will are unimpaired,\nBe thou, my son, anointed king:\nMen\u2019s fancy is a fickle thing.\nTo-day the moon, in order due,\nEntered the sign Punarvasu,(267)\nTo-morrow, as the wise foretell,\nIn Pushya\u2019s favouring stars will dwell:\nThen on the throne shalt thou be placed.\nMy soul, prophetic, counsels haste:\nThee, O my son, to-morrow I\nAs Regent Heir will sanctify.\nSo till the coming night be passed\nDo thou and S\u00edt\u00e1 strictly fast:\nFrom worldly thoughts thy soul refrain,\nAnd couched on holy grass remain.\nAnd let thy trusted lords attend\nIn careful watch upon their friend,\nFor, unexpected, check and bar\nOur weightiest counsels often mar.\nWhile Bharat too is far away\nMaking with royal kin his stay,\nI deem the fittest time of all\nThee, chosen Regent, to install.\nIt may be Bharat still has stood\nTrue to the counsels of the good,\nFaithful to thee with tender trust,\nWith governed senses, pure and just.\nBut human minds, too well I know,\nWill sudden changes undergo,\nAnd by their constant deeds alone\nThe virtue of the good is shown.\nNow, R\u00e1ma, go. My son, good night!\nFixt is to-morrow for the rite.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma paid the reverence due,\nAnd quickly to his home withdrew.\nHe passed within, nor lingered there,\nBut sought his mother\u2019s mansion, where\nThe dame in linen robes arrayed\nDevoutly in the chapel prayed\nTo Fortune\u2019s Queen, with utterance checked,\nThat she her R\u00e1ma would protect.\nThere was Sumitr\u00e1 too, and there\nWas Lakshma\u1e47 led by loving care:\nAnd when the royal choice they knew\nS\u00edt\u00e1 in haste was summoned too.\nAbsorbed, with half-shut eyes, the queen\nAttended by the three was seen.\nShe knew that Pushya\u2019s lucky hour\nWould raise her son to royal power,\nSo fixed with bated breath each thought\nOn God supreme, by all men sought.\nTo her, as thus she knelt and prayed,\nR\u00e1ma drew near, due reverence paid,\nAnd then to swell his mother\u2019s joy,\nThus spoke her own beloved boy;\n\u201cO mother dear, my sire\u2019s decree\nEntrusts the people\u2019s weal to me.\nTo-morrow I, for so his will,\nAnointed king, the throne shall fill.\nThe few last hours till night shall end\nS\u00edt\u00e1 with me must fasting spend,\nFor so my father has decreed,\nAnd holy priests with him agreed.\nWhat vows soever thou mayst deem\nMy consecration\u2019s eve beseem,\nDo thou, sweet mother, for my sake\nAnd for beloved S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s make.\u201d\n\n  When the glad news Kau\u015baly\u00e1 heard,\nSo long desired, so long deferred,\nWhile tears of joy her utterance broke,\nIn answer to her son she spoke:\n\u201cLong be thy life, my darling: now\nThy prostrate foes before thee bow.\nLive long and with thy bright success\nMy friends and dear Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s bless.\nSurely the stars were wondrous fair\nWhen thee, sweet son, thy mother bare,\nThat thy good gifts such love inspire\nAnd win the favour of thy sire.\nWith thee I travailed not in vain;\nThose lotus eyes reward my pain,\nAnd all the glory of the line\nOf old Ikshv\u00e1ku will be thine.\u201d\n\n  He smiled, and on his brother gazed\nWho sate with reverent hands upraised,\nAnd said: \u201cMy brother, thou must be\nJoint-ruler of this land with me.\nMy second self thou, Lakshma\u1e47, art,\nAnd in my fortune bearest part.\nBe thine, Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, to know\nThe joys from regal power that flow.\nMy life itself, the monarch\u2019s seat,\nFor thy dear sake to me are sweet.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma to his brother said,\nTo both his mothers(268) bowed his head,\nAnd then with S\u00edt\u00e1 by his side\nTo his own house the hero hied.\n\n\n\n\nCanto V. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Fast.\n\n\nThen Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha to the king\nCame ready at his summoning.\n\u201cNow go,\u201d exclaimed the monarch, \u201cthou\nEnriched by fervent rite and vow,\nFor R\u00e1ma and his wife ordain\nThe fast, that joy may bless his reign.\u201d\n\n  The best of those who Scripture know\nSaid to the king, \u201cMy lord, I go.\u201d\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s house Va\u015bish\u1e6dha hied,\nThe hero\u2019s fast by rule to guide,\nAnd skilled in sacred texts to tell\nEach step to him instructed well.\nStraight to Prince R\u00e1ma\u2019s high abode,\nThat like a cloud pale-tinted showed,\nBorne in his priestly car he rode.\nTwo courts he passed, and in the third\nHe stayed his car. Then R\u00e1ma heard\nThe holy sage was come, and flew\nTo honour him with honour due.\nHe hastened to the car and lent\nHis hand to aid the priest\u2019s descent.\nThen spoke Va\u015bish\u1e6dha words like these,\nPleased with his reverent courtesies,\nWith pleasant things his heart to cheer\nWho best deserved glad news to hear:\n\u201cPrince, thou hast won thy father\u2019s grace,\nAnd thine will be the Regent\u2019s place:\nNow with thy S\u00edt\u00e1, as is right,\nIn strictest fasting spend the night,\nFor when the morrow\u2019s dawn is fair\nThe king will consecrate his heir:\nSo Nahush,(269) as the wise relate,\nYay\u00e1ti joyed to consecrate.\u201d\n\n  Thus having said, Va\u015bish\u1e6dha next\nOrdained the fast by rule and text,\nFor R\u00e1ma faithful to his vows\nAnd the Videhan dame his spouse.\nThen from the prince\u2019s house he hied\nWith courteous honours gratified.\nRound R\u00e1ma gathered every friend\nIn pleasant talk a while to spend.\nHe bade good night to all at last,\nAnd to his inner chamber passed.\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s house shone bright and gay\nWith men and maids in glad array,\nAs in the morning some fair lake\nWhen all her lotuses awake,\nAnd every bird that loves the flood\nFlits joyous round each opening bud.\n\n  Forth from the house Va\u015bish\u1e6dha drove,\nThat with the king\u2019s in splendour strove,\nAnd all the royal street he viewed\nFilled with a mighty multitude\nThe eager concourse blocked each square,\nEach road and lane and thoroughfare,\nAnd joyous shouts on every side\nRose like the roar of Ocean\u2019s tide,\nAs streams of men together came\nWith loud huzza and glad acclaim.\nThe ways were watered, swept and clean,\nAnd decked with flowers and garlands green\nAnd all Ayodhy\u00e1 shone arrayed\nWith banners on the roofs that played.\nMen, women, boys with eager eyes,\nExpecting when the sun should rise,\nStood longing for the herald ray\nOf R\u00e1ma\u2019s consecration day,\nTo see, a source of joy to all,\nThe people-honoured festival.\n\n  The priest advancing slowly through\nThe mighty crowd he cleft in two,\nNear to the monarch\u2019s palace drew.\nHe sought the terrace, by the stair,\nLike a white cloud-peak high in air,\nThe reverend king of men to meet\nWho sate upon his splendid seat:\nThus will V\u1e5bihaspati arise\nTo meet the monarch of the skies.\nBut when the king his coming knew,\nHe left his throne and near him drew\nQuestioned by him Va\u015bish\u1e6dha said\nThat all his task was duly sped.\nThen all who sate there, honouring\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, rose as rose the king.\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha bade his lord adieu,\nAnd all the peers, dismissed, withdrew.\nThen as a royal lion seeks\nHis cave beneath the rocky peaks,\nSo to the chambers where abode\nHis consorts Da\u015baratha strode.\n  Full-thronged were those delightful bowers\n    With women richly dressed,\n  And splendid as the radiant towers\n    Where Indra loves to rest.\n  Then brighter flashed a thousand eyes\n    With the light his presence lent,\n  As, when the moon begins to rise\n    The star thronged firmament.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VI. The City Decorated.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma bathed in order due,\nHis mind from worldly thoughts withdrew,\nAnd with his large-eyed wife besought\nN\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47, as a votary ought.\nUpon his head the brimming cup\nOf holy oil he lifted up,\nThen placed within the kindled fire\nThe offering to that heavenly Sire,\nAnd as he sipped the remnant prayed\nTo Him for blessing and for aid.\nThen with still lips and tranquil mind\nWith his Videhan he reclined,\nIn Vish\u1e47u\u2019s chapel, on a bed\nWhere holy grass was duly spread,\nWhile still the prince\u2019s every thought\nThe God supreme, N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47, sought.\nOne watch remained the night to close\nWhen R\u00e1ma from his couch arose,\nAnd bade the men and maids adorn\nHis palace for the solemn morn.\nHe heard the bards and heralds raise\nAuspicious strains of joy and praise;\nAnd breathed devout, with voice restrained,\nThe hymn for morning rites ordained;\nThen, with his head in reverence bowed,\nPraised Madhu\u2019s conquering foe aloud,\nAnd, in pure linen robes arrayed,\nThe priests to raise their voices prayed.\nObedient to the summons they\nProclaimed to all the festal day.\nThe Br\u00e1hmans\u2019 voices, deep and sweet,\nResounded through the crowded street,\nAnd echoed through Ayodhy\u00e1 went\nBy many a loud-toned instrument.\nThen all the people joyed to hear\nThat R\u00e1ma with his consort dear\nHad fasted till the morning light\nIn preparation for the rite.\nSwiftly the joyful tidings through\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s crowded city flew,\nAnd soon as dawn appeared, each man\nTo decorate the town began.\nIn all the temples bright and fair\nAs white clouds towering in the air,\nIn streets, and where the cross-ways met,\nWhere holy fig-trees had been set,\nIn open square, in sacred shade,\nWhere merchants\u2019 shops their wealth displayed,\nOn all the mansions of the great,\nAnd householders of wealth and state,\nWhere\u2019er the people loved to meet,\nWhere\u2019er a tree adorned the street,\nGay banners floated to the wind,\nAnd ribands round the staves were twined.\nThen clear the singers\u2019 voices rang,\nAs, charming mind and ear, they sang.\nHere players shone in bright attire,\nThere dancing women swelled the quire.\nEach with his friend had much to say\nOf R\u00e1ma\u2019s consecration-day:\nYea, even children, as they played\nAt cottage doors beneath the shade.\nThe royal street with flowers was strown\nWhich loving hands in heaps had thrown,\nAnd here and there rich incense lent\nIts fragrance to the garland\u2019s scent;\nAnd all was fresh and fair and bright\nIn honour of the coming rite.\nWith careful foresight to illume\nWith borrowed blaze the midnight gloom,\nThe crowds erected here and there\nTrees in each street gay lamps to bear.\nThe city thus from side to side\nIn festal guise was beautified.\nThe people of the town who longed\nTo view the rite together thronged,\nAnd filling every court and square\nPraised the good king in converse there:\n\u201cOur high-souled king! He throws a grace\nOn old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s royal race.\nHe feels his years\u2019 increasing weight,\nAnd makes his son associate.\nGreat joy to us the choice will bring\nOf R\u00e1ma for our lord and king.\nThe good and bad to him are known,\nAnd long will he protect his own.\nNo pride his prudent breast may swell,\nMost just, he loves his brothers well,\nAnd to us all that love extends,\nCherished as brothers and as friends.\nLong may our lord in life remain,\nGood Da\u015baratha, free from stain,\nBy whose most gracious favour we\nR\u00e1ma anointed king shall see.\u201d\n\n  Such were the words the townsmen spoke\nHeard by the gathering countryfolk,\nWho from the south, north, east, and west,\nStirred by the joyful tidings, pressed.\nFor by their eager longing led\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s consecration sped\nThe villagers from every side,\nAnd filled Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s city wide.\nThis way and that way strayed the crowd,\nWhile rose a murmur long and loud,\nAs when the full moon floods the skies\nAnd Ocean\u2019s waves with thunder rise.\n  That town, like Indra\u2019s city fair,\n    While peasants thronged her ways,\n  Tumultuous roared like Ocean, where\n    Each flood-born monster plays.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VII. Manthar\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nIt chanced a slave-born handmaid, bred\nWith Queen Kaikey\u00ed, fancy-led,\nMounted the stair and stood upon\nThe terrace like the moon that shone.\nThence Manthar\u00e1 at ease surveyed\nAyodhy\u00e1 to her eyes displayed,\nWhere water cooled the royal street,\nWhere heaps of flowers were fresh and sweet,\nAnd costly flags and pennons hung\nOn roof and tower their shadow flung;\nWith covered ways prepared in haste,\nAnd many an awning newly placed;\nWith sandal-scented streams bedewed,\nThronged by a new bathed multitude:\nWhose streets were full of Br\u00e1hman bands\nWith wreaths and sweetmeats in their hands.\nLoud instruments their music raised,\nAnd through the town, where\u2019er she gazed,\nThe doors of temples glittered white,\nAnd the maid marvelled at the sight.\n\n  Of R\u00e1ma\u2019s nurse who, standing by,\nGazed with a joy-expanded eye,\nIn robes of purest white attired,\nThe wondering damsel thus inquired:\n\n  \u201cDoes R\u00e1ma\u2019s mother give away\nRich largess to the crowds to-day,\nOn some dear object fondly bent,\nOr blest with measureless content?\nWhat mean these signs of rare delight\nOn every side that meet my sight?\nSay, will the king with joy elate\nSome happy triumph celebrate?\u201d\n\n  The nurse, with transport uncontrolled,\nHer glad tale to the hump-back told:\n\u201cOur lord the king to-morrow morn\nWill consecrate his eldest-born,\nAnd raise, in Pushya\u2019s favouring hour,\nPrince R\u00e1ma to the royal power.\u201d\nAs thus the nurse her tidings spoke,\nRage in the hump-back\u2019s breast awoke.\nDown from the terrace, like the head\nOf high Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s hill, she sped.\nSin in her thoughts, her soul aflame,\nWhere Queen Kaikey\u00ed slept, she came:\n\u201cWhy sleepest thou?\u201d she cried, \u201carise,\nPeril is near, unclose thine eyes.\nAh, heedless Queen, too blind to know\nWhat floods of sin above thee flow!\nThy boasts of love and grace are o\u2019er:\nThine is the show and nothing more.\nHis favour is an empty cheat,\nA torrent dried by summer\u2019s heat.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the artful maid addressed\nIn cruel words from raging breast,\nThe queen, sore troubled, spoke in turn;\n\u201cWhat evil news have I to learn?\nThat mournful eye, that altered cheek\nOf sudden woe or danger speak.\u201d\n\n  Such were the words Kaikey\u00ed said:\nThen Manthar\u00e1, her eyeballs red\nWith fury, skilled with treacherous art\nTo grieve yet more her lady\u2019s heart,\nFrom R\u00e1ma, in her wicked hate,\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s love to alienate,\nUpon her evil purpose bent\nBegan again most eloquent:\n\u201cPeril awaits thee swift and sure,\nAnd utter woe defying cure;\nKing Da\u015baratha will create\nPrince R\u00e1ma Heir Associate.\nPlunged in the depths of wild despair,\nMy soul a prey to pain and care,\nAs though the flames consumed me, zeal\nHas brought me for my lady\u2019s weal,\nThy grief, my Queen, is grief to me:\nThy gain my greatest gain would be.\nProud daughter of a princely line,\nThe rights of consort queen are thine.\nHow art thou, born of royal race,\nBlind to the crimes that kings debase?\nThy lord is gracious, to deceive,\nAnd flatters, but thy soul to grieve,\nWhile thy pure heart that thinks no sin\nKnows not the snares that hem thee in.\nThy husband\u2019s lips on thee bestow\nSoft soothing word, an empty show:\nThe wealth, the substance, and the power\nThis day will be Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s dower.\nWith crafty soul thy child he sends\nTo dwell among thy distant friends,\nAnd, every rival far from sight,\nTo R\u00e1ma gives the power and might.\nAh me! for thou, unhappy dame,\nDeluded by a husband\u2019s name,\nWith more than mother\u2019s love hast pressed\nA serpent to thy heedless breast,\nAnd cherished him who works thee woe,\nNo husband but a deadly foe.\nFor like a snake, unconscious Queen,\nOr enemy who stabs unseen,\nKing Da\u015baratha all untrue\nHas dealt with thee and Bharat too.\nAh, simple lady, long beguiled\nBy his soft words who falsely smiled!\nPoor victim of the guileless breast,\nA happier fate thou meritest.\nFor thee and thine destruction waits\nWhen he Prince R\u00e1ma consecrates.\nUp, lady, while there yet is time;\nPreserve thyself, prevent the crime.\nUp, from thy careless ease, and free\nThyself, O Queen, thy son, and me!\u201d\n\n  Delighted at the words she said,\nKaikey\u00ed lifted from the bed,\nLike autumn\u2019s moon, her radiant head,\nAnd joyous at the tidings gave\nA jewel to the hump-back slave;\nAnd as she gave the precious toy\nShe cried in her exceeding joy:\n\u201cTake this, dear maiden, for thy news\nMost grateful to mine ear, and choose\nWhat grace beside most fitly may\nThe welcome messenger repay.\nI joy that R\u00e1ma gains the throne:\nKau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s son is as mine own.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto VIII. Manthar\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThe damsel\u2019s breast with fury burned:\nShe answered, as the gift she spurned:\n\u201cWhat time, O simple Queen, is this\nFor idle dreams of fancied bliss?\nHast thou not sense thy state to know,\nEngulfed in seas of whelming woe;\nSick as I am with grief and pain\nMy lips can scarce a laugh restrain\nTo see thee hail with ill-timed joy\nA peril mighty to destroy.\nI mourn for one so fondly blind:\nWhat woman of a prudent mind\nWould welcome, e\u2019en as thou hast done,\nThe lordship of a rival\u2019s son,\nRejoiced to find her secret foe\nEmpowered, like death, to launch the blow;\nI see that R\u00e1ma still must fear\nThy Bharat, to his throne too near.\nHence is my heart disquieted,\nFor those who fear are those we dread.\nLakshma\u1e47, the mighty bow who draws,\nWith all his soul serves R\u00e1ma\u2019s cause;\nAnd chains as strong to Bharat bind\n\u015aatrughna, with his heart and mind,\nNow next to R\u00e1ma, lady fair,\nThy Bharat is the lawful heir:\nAnd far remote, I ween, the chance\nThat might the younger two advance.\nYes, Queen, \u2019tis R\u00e1ma that I dread,\nWise, prompt, in warlike science bred;\nAnd oh, I tremble when I think\nOf thy dear child on ruin\u2019s brink.\nBlest with a lofty fate is she,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1; for her son will be\nPlaced, when the moon and Pushya meet,\nBy Br\u00e1hmans on the royal seat,\nThou as a slave in suppliant guise\nMust wait upon Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s eyes,\nWith all her wealth and bliss secured\nAnd glorious from her foes assured.\nHer slave with us who serve thee, thou\nWilt see thy son to R\u00e1ma bow,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s friends exult o\u2019er all,\nWhile Bharat\u2019s wife shares Bharat\u2019s fall.\u201d\n\n  As thus the maid in wrath complained,\nKaikey\u00ed saw her heart was pained,\nAnd answered eager in defence\nOf R\u00e1ma\u2019s worth and excellence:\n\u201cNay, R\u00e1ma, born the monarch\u2019s heir,\nBy holy fathers trained with care,\nVirtuous, grateful, pure, and true,\nClaims royal sway as rightly due.\nHe, like a sire, will long defend\nEach brother, minister, and friend.\nThen why, O hump-back, art thou pained\nTo hear that he the throne has gained?\nBe sure when R\u00e1ma\u2019s empire ends,\nThe kingdom to my son descends,\nWho, when a hundred years are flown,\nShall sit upon his fathers\u2019 throne.\nWhy is thine heart thus sad to see\nThe joy that is and long shall be,\nThis fortune by possession sure\nAnd hopes which we may count secure?\nDear as the darling son I bore\nIs R\u00e1ma, yea, or even more.\nMost duteous to Kau\u015baly\u00e1, he\nIs yet more dutiful to me.\nWhat though he rule, we need not fear:\nHis brethren to his soul are dear.\nAnd if the throne Prince R\u00e1ma fill\nBharat will share the empire still.\u201d\n\n  She ceased. The troubled damsel sighed\nSighs long and hot, and thus replied:\n\u201cWhat madness has possessed thy mind,\nTo warnings deaf, to dangers blind?\nCanst thou not see the floods of woe\nThat threaten o\u2019er thine head to flow:\nFirst R\u00e1ma will the throne acquire,\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s son succeed his sire,\nWhile Bharat will neglected pine\nExcluded from the royal line.\nNot all his sons, O lady fair,\nThe kingdom of a monarch share:\nAll ruling when a sovereign dies\nWild tumult in the state would rise.\nThe eldest, be he good or ill,\nIs ruler by the father\u2019s will.\nKnow, tender mother, that thy son\nWithout a friend and all undone,\nFar from the joyous ease of home\nAn alien from his race will roam.\nI sped to thee for whom I feel,\nBut thy fond heart mistakes my zeal,\nThy hand a present would bestow\nBecause thy rival triumphs so.\nWhen R\u00e1ma once begins his sway\nWithout a foe his will to stay,\nThy darling Bharat he will drive\nTo distant lands if left alive.\nBy thee the child was sent away\nBeneath his grandsire\u2019s roof to stay.\nEven in stocks and stones perforce\nWill friendship spring from intercourse.\nThe young \u015aatrughna too would go\nWith Bharat, for he loved him so.\nAs Lakshma\u1e47 still to R\u00e1ma cleaves,\nHe his dear Bharat never leaves.\nThere is an ancient tale they tell:\nA tree the foresters would fell\nWas saved by reeds that round it stood,\nFor love that sprang of neighbourhood.\nSo Lakshma\u1e47 R\u00e1ma will defend,\nAnd each on each for aid depend.\nSuch fame on earth their friendship wins\nAs that which binds the Heavenly Twins.\nAnd R\u00e1ma ne\u2019er will purpose wrong\nTo Lakshma\u1e47, for their love is strong.\nBut Bharat, Oh, of this be sure,\nMust evil at his hands endure.\nCome, R\u00e1ma from his home expel\nAn exile in the woods to dwell.\nThe plan, O Queen, which I advise\nSecures thy weal if thou be wise.\nSo we and all thy kith and kin\nAdvantage from thy gain shall win.\nShall Bharat, meet for happier fate,\nBorn to endure his rival\u2019s hate,\nWith all his fortune ruined cower\nAnd dread his brother\u2019s mightier power!\nUp, Queen, to save thy son, arise;\nProstrate at R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet he lies.\nSo the proud elephant who leads\nHis trooping consorts through the reeds\nFalls in the forest shade beneath\nThe lion\u2019s spring and murderous teeth.\nScorned by thee in thy bliss and pride\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 was of old defied,\nAnd will she now forbear to show\nThe vengeful rancour of a foe?\n  O Queen, thy darling is undone\n  When R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand has once begun\n    Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s realm to sway,\n  Come, win the kingdom for thy child\n  And drive the alien to the wild\n    In banishment to-day.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto IX. The Plot.\n\n\nAs fury lit Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s eyes\nShe spoke with long and burning sighs:\n\u201cThis day my son enthroned shall see,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to the woods shall flee.\nBut tell me, damsel, if thou can,\nA certain way, a skilful plan\nThat Bharat may the empire gain,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s hopes be nursed in vain.\u201d\n\n  The lady ceased. The wicked maid\nThe mandate of her queen obeyed,\nAnd darkly plotting R\u00e1ma\u2019s fall\nResponded to Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s call.\n\n  \u201cI will declare, do thou attend,\nHow Bharat may his throne ascend.\nDost thou forget what things befell?\nOr dost thou feign, remembering well?\nOr wouldst thou hear my tongue repeat\nA story for thy need so meet?\nGay lady, if thy will be so,\nNow hear the tale of long ago,\nAnd when my tongue has done its part\nPonder the story in thine heart.\nWhen Gods and demons fought of old,\nThy lord, with royal saints enrolled,\nSped to the war with thee to bring\nHis might to aid the Immortals\u2019 King.\nFar to the southern land he sped\nWhere Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s mighty wilds are spread,\nTo Vaijayanta\u2019s city swayed\nBy \u015aambara, whose flag displayd\nThe hugest monster of the sea.\nLord of a hundred wiles was be;\nWith might which Gods could never blame\nAgainst the King of Heaven he came.\nThen raged the battle wild and dread,\nAnd mortal warriors fought and bled;\nThe fiends by night with strength renewed\nCharged, slew the sleeping multitude.\nThy lord, King Da\u015baratha, long\nStood fighting with the demon throng,\nBut long of arm, unmatched in strength,\nFell wounded by their darts at length.\nThy husband, senseless, by thine aid\nWas from the battle field conveyed,\nAnd wounded nigh to death thy lord\nWas by thy care to health restored.\nWell pleased the grateful monarch sware\nTo grant thy first and second prayer.\nThou for no favour then wouldst sue,\nThe gifts reserved for season due;\nAnd he, thy high-souled lord, agreed\nTo give the boons when thou shouldst need.\nMyself I knew not what befell,\nBut oft the tale have heard thee tell,\nAnd close to thee in friendship knit\nDeep in my heart have treasured it.\nRemind thy husband of his oath,\nRecall the boons and claim them both,\nThat Bharat on the throne be placed\nWith rites of consecration graced,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to the woods be sent\nFor twice seven years of banishment.\nGo, Queen, the mourner\u2019s chamber(270) seek,\nWith angry eye and burning cheek;\nAnd with disordered robes and hair\nOn the cold earth lie prostrate there.\nWhen the king comes still mournful lie,\nSpeak not a word nor meet his eye,\nBut let thy tears in torrent flow,\nAnd lie enamoured of thy woe.\nWell do I know thou long hast been,\nAnd ever art, his darling queen.\nFor thy dear sake, O well-loved dame,\nThe mighty king would brave the flame,\nBut ne\u2019er would anger thee, or brook\nTo meet his favourite\u2019s wrathful look.\nThy loving lord would even die\nThy fancy, Queen, to gratify,\nAnd never could he arm his breast\nTo answer nay to thy request.\nListen and learn, O dull of sense,\nThine all-resistless influence.\nGems he will offer, pearls and gold:\nRefuse his gifts, be stern and cold.\nThose proffered boons at length recall,\nAnd claim them till he grants thee all.\nAnd O my lady, high in bliss,\nWith heedful thought forget not this.\nWhen from the ground his queen he lifts\nAnd grants again the promised gifts,\nBind him with oaths he cannot break\nAnd thy demands unflnching, make.\nThat R\u00e1ma travel to the wild\nFive years and nine from home exiled,\nAnd Bharat, best of all who reign,\nThe empire of the land obtain.\nFor when this term of years has fled\nOver the banished R\u00e1ma\u2019s head,\nThy royal son to vigour grown\nAnd rooted firm will stand alone.\nThe king, I know, is well inclined,\nAnd this the hour to move his mind.\nBe bold: the threatened rite prevent,\nAnd force the king from his intent.\u201d\n\n  She ceased. So counselled to her bane\nDisguised beneath a show of gain,\nKaikey\u00ed in her joy and pride\nTo Manthar\u00e1 again replied:\n\u201cThy sense I envy, prudent maid;\nWith sagest lore thy lids persuade.\nNo hump-back maid in all the earth,\nFor wise resolve, can match thy worth.\nThou art alone with constant zeal\nDevoted to thy lady\u2019s weal.\nDear girl, without thy faithful aid\nI had not marked the plot he laid.\nFull of all guile and sin and spite\nMisshapen hump-backs shock the sight:\nBut thou art fair and formed to please,\nBent like a lily by the breeze.\nI look thee o\u2019er with watchful eye,\nAnd in thy frame no fault can spy;\nThe chest so deep, the waist so trim,\nSo round the lines of breast and limb.(271)\nThy cheeks with moonlike beauty shine,\nAnd the warm wealth of youth is thine.\nThy legs, my girl, are long and neat,\nAnd somewhat long thy dainty feet,\nWhile stepping out before my face\nThou seemest like a crane to pace.\nThe thousand wiles are in thy breast\nWhich \u015aambara the fiend possessed,\nAnd countless others all thine own,\nO damsel sage, to thee are known.\nThy very hump becomes thee too,\nO thou whose face is fair to view,\nFor there reside in endless store\nPlots, wizard wiles, and warrior lore.\nA golden chain I\u2019ll round it fling\nWhen R\u00e1ma\u2019s flight makes Bharat king:\nYea, polished links of finest gold,\nWhen once the wished for prize I hold\nWith naught to fear and none to hate,\nThy hump, dear maid, shall decorate.\nA golden frontlet wrought with care,\nAnd precious jewels shalt thou wear:\nTwo lovely robes around thee fold,\nAnd walk a Goddess to behold,\nBidding the moon himself compare\nHis beauty with a face so fair.\nWith scent of precious sandal sweet\nDown to the nails upon thy feet,\nFirst of the household thou shalt go\nAnd pay with scorn each battled foe.\u201d\n\n  Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s praise the damsel heard,\nAnd thus again her lady stirred,\nWho lay upon her beauteous bed\nLike fire upon the altar fed:\n\u201cDear Queen, they build the bridge in vain\nWhen swollen streams are dry again.\nArise, thy glorious task complete,\nAnd draw the king to thy retreat.\u201d\n\n  The large-eyed lady left her bower\nExulting in her pride of power,\nAnd with the hump-back sought the gloom\nAnd silence of the mourner\u2019s room.\nThe string of priceless pearls that hung\nAround her neck to earth she flung,\nWith all the wealth and lustre lent\nBy precious gem and ornament.\nThen, listening to her slave\u2019s advice,\nLay, like a nymph from Paradise.\nAs on the ground her limbs she laid\nOnce more she cried unto the maid:\n\u201cSoon must thou to the monarch say\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s soul has past away,\nOr, R\u00e1ma banished as we planned,\nMy son made king shall rule the land.\nNo more for gold and gems I care,\nFor brave attire or dainty fare.\nIf R\u00e1ma should the throne ascend,\nThat very hour my life will end.\u201d\n\n  The royal lady wounded through\nThe bosom with the darts that flew\n  Launched from the hump-back\u2019s tongue\nPressed both her hands upon her side,\nAnd o\u2019er and o\u2019er again she cried\n  With wildering fury stung:\n\u201cYes, it shall be thy task to tell\nThat I have hurried hence to dwell\n  In Y\u00e1ma\u2019s realms of woe,\nOr happy Bharat shall be king,\nAnd doomed to years of wandering\n  Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s son shall go.\nI heed not dainty viands now\nFair wreaths of flowers to twine my brow,\n  Soft balm or precious scent:\nMy very life I count as naught,\nNothing on earth can claim my thought\n  But R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment.\u201d\n  She spoke these words of cruel ire;\nThen stripping off her gay attire,\n  The cold bare floor she pressed.\nSo, falling from her home on high,\nSome lovely daughter of the sky\n  Upon the ground might rest.\nWith darkened brow and furious mien,\nStripped of her gems and wreath, the queen\n  In spotless beauty lay,\nLike heaven obscured with gathering cloud,\nWhen shades of midnight darkness shroud\n  Each star\u2019s expiring ray.\n\n\n\n\nCanto X. Dasaratha\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nAs Queen Kaikey\u00ed thus obeyed\nThe sinful counsel of her maid\nShe sank upon the chamber floor,\nAs sinks in anguish, wounded sore,\nAn elephant beneath the smart\nOf the wild hunter\u2019s venomed dart.\nThe lovely lady in her mind\nRevolved the plot her maid designed,\nAnd prompt the gain and risk to scan\nShe step by step approved the plan.\nMisguided by the hump-back\u2019s guile\nShe pondered her resolve awhile,\nAs the fair path that bliss secured\nThe miserable lady lured,\nDevoted to her queen, and swayed\nBy hopes of gain and bliss, the maid\nRejoiced, her lady\u2019s purpose known,\nAnd deemed the prize she sought her own.\nThen bent upon her purpose dire,\nKaikey\u00ed with her soul on fire,\nUpon the floor lay, languid, down,\nHer brows contracted in a frown.\nThe bright-hued wreath that bound her hair,\nChains, necklets, jewels rich and rare,\nStripped off by her own fingers lay\nSpread on the ground in disarray,\nAnd to the floor a lustre lent\nAs stars light up the firmament.\nThus prostrate in the mourner\u2019s cell,\nIn garb of woe the lady fell,\nHer long hair in a single braid,\nLike some fair nymph of heaven dismayed.(272)\n\n  The monarch, R\u00e1ma to install,\nWith thoughtful care had ordered all,\nAnd now within his home withdrew,\nDismissing first his retinue.\nNow all the town has heard, thought he,\nWhat joyful rite the morn will see.\nSo turned he to her bower to cheer\nWith the glad news his darling\u2019s ear.\nMajestic, as the Lord of Night,\nWhen threatened by the Dragon\u2019s might,\nBursts radiant on the evening sky\nPale with the clouds that wander by,\nSo Da\u015baratha, great in fame,\nTo Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s palace came.\nThere parrots flew from tree to tree,\nAnd gorgeous peacocks wandered free,\nWhile ever and anon was heard\nThe note of some glad water-bird.\nHere loitered dwarf and hump-backed maid,\nThere lute and lyre sweet music played.\nHere, rich in blossom, creepers twined\nO\u2019er grots with wondrous art designed,\nThere Champac and A\u015boka flowers\nHung glorious o\u2019er the summer bowers,\nAnd mid the waving verdure rose\nGold, silver, ivory porticoes.\nThrough all the months in ceaseless store\nThe trees both fruit and blossom bore.\nWith many a lake the grounds were graced;\nSeats gold and silver, here were placed;\nHere every viand wooed the taste,\nIt was a garden meet to vie\nE\u2019en with the home of Gods on high.\nWithin the mansion rich and vast\nThe mighty Da\u015baratha passed:\nNot there was his beloved queen\nOn her fair couch reclining seen.\nWith love his eager pulses beat\nFor the dear wife he came to meet,\nAnd in his blissful hopes deceived,\nHe sought his absent love and grieved.\nFor never had she missed the hour\nOf meeting in her sumptuous bower,\nAnd never had the king of men\nEntered the empty room till then.\nStill urged by love and anxious thought\nNews of his favourite queen he sought,\nFor never had his loving eyes\nFound her or selfish or unwise.\nThen spoke at length the warder maid,\nWith hands upraised and sore afraid:\n\u201cMy Lord and King, the queen has sought\nThe mourner\u2019s cell with rage distraught.\u201d\n\n  The words the warder maiden said\nHe heard with soul disquieted,\nAnd thus as fiercer grief assailed,\nHis troubled senses wellnigh failed.\nConsumed by torturing fires of grief\nThe king, the world\u2019s imperial chief,\nHis lady lying on the ground\nIn most unqueenly posture, found.\nThe aged king, all pure within,\nSaw the young queen resolved on sin,\nLow on the ground, his own sweet wife,\nTo him far dearer than his life,\nLike some fair creeping plant uptorn,\nOr like a maid of heaven forlorn,\nA nymph of air or Goddess sent\nFrom Swarga down in banishment.\n\n  As some wild elephant who tries\nTo soothe his consort as she lies\nStruck by the hunter\u2019s venomed dart,\nSo the great king disturbed in heart,\nStrove with soft hand and fond caress\nTo soothe his darling queen\u2019s distress,\nAnd in his love addressed with sighs\nThe lady of the lotus eyes:\n\u201cI know not, Queen, why thou shouldst be\nThus angered to the heart with me.\nSay, who has slighted thee, or whence\nHas come the cause of such offence\nThat in the dust thou liest low,\nAnd rendest my fond heart with woe,\nAs if some goblin of the night\nHad struck thee with a deadly blight,\nAnd cast foul influence on her\nWhose spells my loving bosom stir?\nI have Physicians famed for skill,\nEach trained to cure some special ill:\nMy sweetest lady, tell thy pain,\nAnd they shall make thee well again.\nWhom, darling, wouldst thou punished see?\nOr whom enriched with lordly fee?\nWeep not, my lovely Queen, and stay\nThis grief that wears thy frame away;\nSpeak, and the guilty shall be freed.\nThe guiltless be condemned to bleed,\nThe poor enriched, the rich abased,\nThe low set high, the proud disgraced.\nMy lords and I thy will obey,\nAll slaves who own thy sovereign sway;\nAnd I can ne\u2019er my heart incline\nTo check in aught one wish of thine.\nNow by my life I pray thee tell\nThe thoughts that in thy bosom dwell.\nThe power and might thou knowest well,\nShould from thy breast all doubt expel.\nI swear by all my merit won,\nSpeak, and thy pleasure shall be done.\nFar as the world\u2019s wide bounds extend\nMy glorious empire knows no end.\nMine are the tribes in eastern lands,\nAnd those who dwell on Sindhu\u2019s sands:\nMine is Sur\u00e1sh\u1e6dra, far away,\nSuv\u00edra\u2019s realm admits my sway.\nMy best the southern nations fear,\nThe Angas and the Vangas hear.\nAnd as lord paramount I reign\nO\u2019er Magadh and the Matsyas\u2019 plain,\nKo\u015bal, and K\u00e1\u015bi\u2019s wide domain:(273)\nAll rich in treasures of the mine,\nIn golden corn, sheep, goats, and kine.\nChoose what thou wilt. Kaikey\u00ed, thence:\nBut tell me, O my darling, whence\nArose thy grief, and it shall fly\nLike hoar-frost when the sun is high.\u201d\n\n  She, by his loving words consoled,\nLonged her dire purpose to unfold,\nAnd sought with sharper pangs to wring\nThe bosom of her lord the king.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XI. The Queen\u2019s Demand.\n\n\nTo him enthralled by love, and blind,\nPierced by his darts who shakes the mind,(274)\nKaikey\u00ed with remorseless breast\nHer grand purpose thus expressed:\n\u201cO King, no insult or neglect\nHave I endured, or disrespect.\nOne wish I have, and faith would see\nThat longing granted, lord, by thee.\nNow pledge thy word if thou incline\nTo listen to this prayer of mine,\nThen I with confidence will speak,\nAnd thou shalt hear the boon I seek.\u201d\n\n  Ere she had ceased, the monarch fell,\nA victim to the lady\u2019s spell,\nAnd to the deadly snare she set\nSprang, like a roebuck to the net.\nHer lover raised her drooping head,\nSmiled, playing with her hair, and said:\n\u201cHast thou not learnt, wild dame, till now\nThat there is none so dear as thou\nTo me thy loving husband, save\nMy R\u00e1ma bravest of the brave?\nBy him my race\u2019s high-souled heir,\nBy him whom none can match, I swear,\nNow speak the wish that on thee weighs:\nBy him whose right is length of days,\nWhom if my fond paternal eye\nSaw not one hour I needs must die,\u2014\nI swear by R\u00e1ma my dear son,\nSpeak, and thy bidding shall be done.\nSpeak, darling; if thou choose, request\nTo have the heart from out my breast;\nRegard my words, sweet love, and name\nThe wish thy mind thinks fit to frame.\nNor let thy soul give way to doubt:\nMy power should drive suspicion out.\nYea, by my merits won I swear,\nSpeak, darling, I will grant thy prayer.\u201d\n\n  The queen, ambitious, overjoyed\nTo see him by her plot decoyed,\nMore eager still her aims to reach,\nSpoke her abominable speech:\n\u201cA boon thou grantest, nothing loth,\nAnd swearest with repeated oath.\nNow let the thirty Gods and three\nMy witnesses, with Indra, be.\nLet sun and moon and planets hear,\nHeaven, quarters, day and night, give ear.\nThe mighty world, the earth outspread,\nWith bards of heaven and demons dread;\nThe ghosts that walk in midnight shade,\nAnd household Gods, our present aid,\nA every being great and small\nTo hear and mark the oath I call.\u201d\n\n  When thus the archer king was bound,\nWith treacherous arts and oaths enwound,\nShe to her bounteous lord subdued\nBy blinding love, her speech renewed:\n\u201cRemember, King, that long-past day\nOf Gods\u2019 and demons\u2019 battle fray.\nAnd how thy foe in doubtful strife\nHad nigh bereft thee of thy life.\nRemember, it was only I\nPreserved thee when about to die,\nAnd thou for watchful love and care\nWouldst grant my first and second prayer.\nThose offered boons, pledged with thee then,\nI now demand, O King of men,\nOf thee, O Monarch, good and just,\nWhose righteous soul observes each trust.\nIf thou refuse thy promise sworn,\nI die, despised, before the morn.\nThese rites in R\u00e1ma\u2019s name begun\u2014\nTransfer them, and enthrone my son.\nThe time is come to claim at last\nThe double boon of days long-past,\nWhen Gods and demons met in fight,\nAnd thou wouldst fain my care requite.\nNow forth to Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s forest drive\nThy R\u00e1ma for nine years and five,\nAnd let him dwell a hermit there\nWith deerskin coat and matted hair.\nWithout a rival let my boy\nThe empire of the land enjoy,\nAnd let mine eyes ere morning see\nThy R\u00e1ma to the forest flee.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XII. Dasaratha\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nThe monarch, as Kaikey\u00ed pressed\nWith cruel words her dire request,\nStood for a time absorbed in thought\nWhile anguish in his bosom wrought.\n\u201cDoes some wild dream my heart assail?\nOr do my troubled senses fail?\nDoes some dire portent scare my view?\nOr frenzy\u2019s stroke my soul subdue?\u201d\nThus as he thought, his troubled mind\nIn doubt and dread no rest could find,\nDistressed and trembling like a deer\nWho sees the dreaded tigress near.\nOn the bare ground his limbs he threw,\nAnd many a long deep sigh he drew,\nLike a wild snake, with fury blind,\nBy charms within a ring confined.\nOnce as the monarch\u2019s fury woke,\n\u201cShame on thee!\u201d from his bosom broke,\nAnd then in sense-bewildering pain\nHe fainted on the ground again.\nAt length, when slowly strength returned,\nHe answered as his eyeballs burned\nWith the wild fury of his ire\nConsuming her, as \u2019twere, with fire:\n\u201cFell traitress, thou whose thoughts design\nThe utter ruin of my line,\nWhat wrong have I or R\u00e1ma done?\nSpeak murderess, speak thou wicked one,\nSeeks he not evermore to please\nThee with all sonlike courtesies?\nBy what persuasion art thou led\nTo bring this ruin on his head?\nAh me, that fondly unaware\nI brought thee home my life to share,\nCalled daughter of a king, in truth\nA serpent with a venomed tooth!\nWhat fault can I pretend to find\nIn R\u00e1ma praised by all mankind,\nThat I my darling should forsake?\nNo, take my life, my glory take:\nLet either queen be from me torn,\nBut not my well-loved eldest-born.\nHim but to see is highest bliss,\nAnd death itself his face to miss.\nThe world may sunless stand, the grain\nMay thrive without the genial rain,\nBut if my R\u00e1ma be not nigh\nMy spirit from its frame will fly.\nEnough, thine impious plan forgo,\nO thou who plottest sin and woe.\nMy head before thy feet, I kneel,\nAnd pray thee some compassion feel.\nO wicked dame, what can have led\nThy heart to dare a plot so dread?\nPerchance thy purpose is to sound\nThe grace thy son with me has found;\nPerchance the words that, all these days,\nThou still hast said in R\u00e1ma\u2019s praise,\nWere only feigned, designed to cheer\nWith flatteries a father\u2019s ear.\nSoon as thy grief, my Queen, I knew,\nMy bosom felt the anguish too.\nIn empty halls art thou possessed,\nAnd subject to anothers\u2019 hest?\nNow on Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s ancient race\nFalls foul disorder and disgrace,\nIf thou, O Queen, whose heart so long\nHas loved the good should choose the wrong.\nNot once, O large-eyed dame, hast thou\nBeen guilty of offence till now,\nNor said a word to make me grieve,\nNow will I now thy sin believe.\nWith thee my R\u00e1ma used to hold\nLike place with Bharat lofty-souled.\nAs thou so often, when the pair\nWere children yet, wouldst fain declare.\nAnd can thy righteous soul endure\nThat R\u00e1ma glorious, pious, pure,\nShould to the distant wilds be sent\nFor fourteen years of banishment?\nYea, R\u00e1ma Bharat\u2019s self exceeds\nIn love to thee and sonlike deeds,\nAnd, for deserving love of thee,\nAs Bharat, even so is he.\nWho better than that chieftain may\nObedience, love, and honour pay,\nThy dignity with care protect,\nThy slightest word and wish respect?\nOf all his countless followers none\nCan breathe a word against my son;\nOf many thousands not a dame\nCan hint reproach or whisper blame.\nAll creatures feel the sweet control\nOf R\u00e1ma\u2019s pure and gentle soul.\nThe pride of Manu\u2019s race he binds\nTo him the people\u2019s grateful minds.\nHe wins the subjects with his truth,\nThe poor with gifts and gentle ruth,\nHis teachers with his docile will,\nThe foemen with his archer skill.\nTruth, purity, religious zeal,\nThe hand to give, the heart to feel,\nThe love that ne\u2019er betrays a friend,\nThe rectitude that naught can bend,\nKnowledge, and meek obedience grace\nMy R\u00e1ma pride of Raghu\u2019s race.\nCanst thou thine impious plot design\n\u2019Gainst him in whom these virtues shine,\nWhose glory with the sages vies,\nPeer of the Gods who rule the skies!\nFrom him no harsh or bitter word\nTo pain one creature have I heard,\nAnd how can I my son address,\nFor thee, with words of bitterness?\nHave mercy, Queen: some pity show\nTo see my tears of anguish flow,\nAnd listen to my mournful cry,\nA poor old man who soon must die.\nWhate\u2019er this sea-girt land can boast\nOf rich and rare from coast to coast,\nTo thee, my Queen, I give it all:\nBut O, thy deadly words recall:\nO see, my suppliant hands entreat,\nAgain my lips are on thy feet:\nSave R\u00e1ma, save my darling child,\nNor kill me with this sin defiled.\u201d\nHe grovelled on the ground, and lay\nTo burning grief a senseless prey,\nAnd ever and anon, assailed\nBy floods of woe he wept and wailed,\nStriving with eager speed to gain\nThe margent of his sea of pain.\n\n  With fiercer words she fiercer yet\nThe hapless father\u2019s pleading met:\n\u201cO Monarch, if thy soul repent\nThe promise and thy free consent,\nHow wilt thou in the world maintain\nThy fame for truth unsmirched with stain?\nWhen gathered kings with thee converse,\nAnd bid thee all the tale rehearse,\nWhat wilt thou say, O truthful King,\nIn answer to their questioning?\n\u201cShe to whose love my life I owe,\nWho saved me smitten by the foe,\nKaikey\u00ed, for her tender care,\nWas cheated of the oath I sware.\u201d\nThus wilt thou answer, and forsworn\nWilt draw on thee the princes\u2019 scorn.\nLearn from that tale, the Hawk and Dove,(275)\nHow strong for truth was Saivya\u2019s love.\nPledged by his word the monarch gave\nHis flesh the suppliant bird to save.\nSo King Alarka gave his eyes,\nAnd gained a mansion in the skies.\nThe Sea himself his promise keeps,\nAnd ne\u2019er beyond his limit sweeps.\nMy deeds of old again recall,\nNor let thy bond dishonoured fall.\nThe rights of truth thou wouldst forget,\nThy R\u00e1ma on the throne to set,\nAnd let thy days in pleasure glide,\nFond King, Kau\u015baly\u00e1 by thy side.\nNow call it by what name thou wilt,\nJustice, injustice, virtue, guilt,\nThy word and oath remain the same,\nAnd thou must yield what thus I claim.\nIf R\u00e1ma be anointed, I\nThis very day will surely die,\nBefore thy face will poison drink,\nAnd lifeless at thy feet will sink.\nYea, better far to die than stay\nAlive to see one single day\nThe crowds before Kau\u015baly\u00e1 stand\nAnd hail her queen with reverent hand.\nNow by my son, myself, I swear,\nNo gift, no promise whatsoe\u2019er\nMy steadfast soul shall now content,\nBut only R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment.\u201d\n\n  So far she spake by rage impelled,\nAnd then the queen deep silence held.\nHe heard her speech full fraught with ill,\nBut spoke no word bewildered still,\nGazed on his love once held so dear\nWho spoke unlovely rede to hear;\nThen as he slowly pondered o\u2019er\nThe queen\u2019s resolve and oath she swore.\nOnce sighing forth, Ah R\u00e1ma! he\nFell prone as falls a smitten tree.\nHis senses lost like one insane,\nFaint as a sick man weak with pain,\nOr like a wounded snake dismayed,\nSo lay the king whom earth obeyed.\nLong burning sighs he slowly heaved,\nAs, conquered by his woe, he grieved,\nAnd thus with tears and sobs between\nHis sad faint words addressed the queen:\n\n  \u201cBy whom, Kaikey\u00ed, wast thou taught\nThis flattering hope with ruin fraught?\nHave goblins seized thy soul, O dame,\nWho thus canst speak and feel no shame?\nThy mind with sin is sicklied o\u2019er,\nFrom thy first youth ne\u2019er seen before.\nA good and loving wife wast thou,\nBut all, alas! is altered now.\nWhat terror can have seized thy breast\nTo make thee frame this dire request,\nThat Bharat o\u2019er the land may reign,\nAnd R\u00e1ma in the woods remain?\nTurn from thine evil ways, O turn,\nAnd thy perfidious counsel spurn,\nIf thou would fain a favour do\nTo people, lord, and Bharat too.\nO wicked traitress, fierce and vile,\nWho lovest deeds of sin and guile,\nWhat crime or grievance dost thou see,\nWhat fault in R\u00e1ma or in me?\nThy son will ne\u2019er the throne accept\nIf R\u00e1ma from his rights be kept,\nFor Bharat\u2019s heart more firmly yet\nThan R\u00e1ma\u2019s is on justice set.\nHow shall I say, Go forth, and brook\nUpon my R\u00e1ma\u2019s face to look,\nSee his pale cheek and ashy lips\nDimmed like the moon in sad eclipse?\nHow see the plan so well prepared\nWhen prudent friends my counsels shared,\nAll ruined, like a host laid low\nBeneath some foeman\u2019s murderous blow.\nWhat will these gathered princes say,\nFrom regions near and far away?\n\u201cO\u2019erlong endures the monarch\u2019s reign,\nor now he is a child again.\u201d\nWhen many a good and holy sage\nIn Scripture versed, revered for age,\nShall ask for R\u00e1ma, what shall I\nUnhappy, what shall I reply?\n\u201cBy Queen Kaikey\u00ed long distressed\nI drove him forth and dispossessed.\u201d\nAlthough herein the truth I speak,\nThey all will hold me false and weak.\nWhat will Kau\u015baly\u00e1 say when she\nDemands her son exiled by me?\nAlas! what answer shall I frame,\nOr how console the injured dame?\nShe like a slave on me attends,\nAnd with a sister\u2019s care she blends\nA mother\u2019s love, a wife\u2019s, a friend\u2019s.\nIn spite of all her tender care,\nHer noble son, her face most fair,\nAnother queen I could prefer\nAnd for thy sake neglected her,\nBut now, O Queen, my heart is grieved\nFor love and care by thee received,\nE\u2019en as the sickening wretch repents\nHis dainty meal and condiments.\nAnd how will Queen Sumitr\u00e1 trust\nThe husband whom she finds unjust,\nSeeing my R\u00e1ma driven hence\nDishonoured, and for no offence?\nAh! the Videhan bride will hear\nA double woe, a double fear,\nTwo whelming sorrows at one breath,\nHer lord\u2019s disgrace, his father\u2019s death.\nMine aged bosom she will wring\nAnd kill me with her sorrowing,\nSad as a fair nymph left to weep\nDeserted on Him\u00e1laya\u2019s steep.\nFor short will be my days, I ween,\nWhen I with mournful eyes have seen\nMy R\u00e1ma wandering forth alone\nAnd heard dear S\u00edt\u00e1 sob and moan.\nAh me! my fond belief I rue.\nVile traitress, loved as good and true,\nAs one who in his thirst has quaffed,\nDeceived by looks, a deadly draught.\nAh! thou hast slain me, murderess, while\nSoothing my soul with words of guile,\nAs the wild hunter kills the deer\nLured from the brake his song to hear.\nSoon every honest tongue will fling\nReproach on the dishonest king;\nThe people\u2019s scorn in every street\nThe seller of his child will meet,\nAnd such dishonour will be mine\nAs whelms a Br\u00e1hman drunk with wine.\nAh me, for my unhappy fate,\nCompelled thy words to tolerate!\nSuch woe is sent to scourge a crime\nCommitted in some distant time.\nFor many a day with sinful care\nI cherished thee, thou sin and snare,\nKept thee, unwitting, like a cord\nDestined to bind its hapless lord.\nMine hours of ease I spent with thee,\nNor deemed my love my death would be,\nWhile like a heedless child I played,\nOn a black snake my hand I laid.\nA cry from every mouth will burst\nAnd all the world will hold me curst,\nBecause I saw my high-souled son\nUnkinged, unfathered, and undone;\n\u201cThe king by power of love beguiled\nIs weaker than a foolish child,\nHis own beloved son to make\nAn exile for a woman\u2019s sake.\nBy chaste and holy vows restrained,\nBy reverend teachers duly trained.\nWhen he his virtue\u2019s fruit should taste\nHe falls by sin and woe disgraced.\u201d\nTwo words will all his answer be\nWhen I pronounce the stern decree,\n\u201cHence, R\u00e1ma, to the woods away,\u201d\nAll he will say is, I obey.\nO, if he would my will withstand\nWhen banished from his home and land,\nThis were a comfort in my woe;\nBut he will ne\u2019er do this, I know.\nMy R\u00e1ma to the forest fled,\nAnd curses thick upon my head,\nGrim Death will bear me hence away,\nHis world-abominated prey.\nWhen I am gone and R\u00e1ma too.\nHow wilt thou those I love pursue?\nWhat vengeful sin will be designed\nAgainst the queens I leave behind?\nWhen thou hast slain her son and me\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 soon will follow: she\nWill sink beneath her sorrows\u2019 weight,\nAnd die like me disconsolate.\nExist, Kaikey\u00ed, in thy pride,\nAnd let thy heart be gratified,\nWhen thou my queens and me hast hurled,\nAnd children, to the under world.\nSoon wilt thou rule as empress o\u2019er\nMy noble house unvext before.\nBut then to wild confusion left,\nOf R\u00e1ma and of me bereft.\nIf Bharat to thy plan consent\nAnd long for R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment,\nNe\u2019er let his hands presume to pay\nThe funeral honours to my clay.\nVile foe, thou cause of all mine ill,\nObtain at last thy cursed will.\nA widow soon shalt thou enjoy\nThe sweets of empire with thy boy.\nO Princess, sure some evil fate\nFirst brought thee here to devastate,\nIn whom the night of ruin lies\nVeiled in a consort\u2019s fair disguise.\nThe scorn of all and deepest shame\nWill long pursue my hated name,\nAnd dire disgrace on me will press,\nMisled by thee to wickedness.\nHow shall my R\u00e1ma, whom, before,\nHis elephant or chariot bore,\nNow with his feet, a wanderer, tread\nThe forest wilds around him spread?\nHow shall my son, to please whose taste,\nThe deftest cooks, with earrings graced,\nWith rivalry and jealous care\nThe dainty meal and cates prepare\u2014\nHow shall he now his life sustain\nWith acid fruit and woodland grain?\nHe spends his time unvext by cares,\nAnd robes of precious texture wears:\nHow shall he, with one garment round\nHis limbs recline upon the ground?\nWhose was this plan, this cruel thought\nUnheard till now, with ruin fraught,\nTo make thy son Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s king,\nAnd send my R\u00e1ma wandering?\nShame, shame on women! Vile, untrue,\nTheir selfish ends they still pursue.\nNot all of womankind I mean.\nBut more than all this wicked queen.\n  O worthless, cruel, selfish dame,\n    I brought thee home, my plague and woe.\n  What fault in me hast thou to blame,\n    Or in my son who loves thee so?\n  Fond wives may from their husbands flee,\n    And fathers may their sons desert,\n  But all the world would rave to see\n    My R\u00e1ma touched with deadly hurt.\n  I joy his very step to hear,\n    As though his godlike form I viewed;\n  And when I see my R\u00e1ma near\n    I feel my youth again renewed.\n  There might be life without the sun,\n    Yea, e\u2019en if Indra sent no rain,\n  But, were my R\u00e1ma banished, none\n    Would, so I think, alive remain.\n  A foe that longs my life to take,\n    I brought thee here my death to be,\n  Caressed thee long, a venomed snake,\n    And through my folly die. Ah me!\n  R\u00e1ma and me and Lakshma\u1e47 slay,\n    And then with Bharat rule the state;\n  So bring the kingdom to decay,\n    And fawn on those thy lord who hate,\n  Plotter of woe, for evil bred,\n    For such a speech why do not all\n  Thy teeth from out thy wicked head\n    Split in a thousand pieces fall?\n  My R\u00e1ma\u2019s words are ever kind,\n    He knows not how to speak in ire:\n  Then how canst thou presume to find\n    A fault in him whom all admire?\n  Yield to despair, go mad, or die,\n    Or sink within the rifted earth;\n  Thy fell request will I deny,\n    Thou shamer of thy royal birth.\n  Thy longer life I scarce can bear,\n    Thou ruin of my home and race,\n  Who wouldst my heart and heartstrings tear,\n    Keen as a razor, false and base.\n  My life is gone, why speak of joy?\n    For what, without my son, were sweet?\n  Spare, lady, him thou canst destroy;\n    I pray thee as I touch thy feet.\u201d\n  He fell and wept with wild complaint,\n    Heart-struck by her presumptuous speech,\n  But could not touch, so weak and faint,\n    The cruel feet he strove to reach.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIII. Dasaratha\u2019s Distress.\n\n\nUnworthy of his mournful fate,\nThe mighty king, unfortunate,\nLay prostrate in unseemly guise,\nAs, banished from the blissful skies,\nYay\u00e1ti, in his evil day.\nHis merit all exhausted, lay.(276)\nThe queen, triumphant in the power\nWon by her beauty\u2019s fatal dower,\nStill terrible and unsubdued,\nHer dire demand again renewed:\n\u201cGreat Monarch, \u2019twas thy boast till now\nTo love the truth and keep the vow;\nThen wherefore would thy lips refuse\nThe promised boon \u2019tis mine to choose?\u201d\n\n  King Da\u015baratha, thus addressed,\nWith anger raging in his breast,\nSank for a while beneath the pain,\nThen to Kaikey\u00ed spoke again:\n\u201cChildless so long, at length I won,\nWith mighty toil, from Heaven a son,\nR\u00e1ma, the mighty-armed; and how\nShall I desert my darling now?\nA scholar wise, a hero bold,\nOf patient mood, with wrath controlled,\nHow can I bid my R\u00e1ma fly,\nMy darling of the lotus eye?\nIn heaven itself I scarce could bear,\nWhen asking of my R\u00e1ma there,\nTo hear the Gods his griefs declare,\nAnd O, that death would take me hence\nBefore I wrong his innocence!\u201d\n\n  As thus the monarch wept and wailed,\nAnd maddening grief his heart assailed,\nThe sun had sought his resting-place,\nAnd night was closing round apace.\nBut yet the moon-crowned night could bring\nNo comfort to the wretched king.\nAs still he mourned with burning sighs\nAnd fixed his gaze upon the skies:\n\u201cO Night whom starry fires adorn,\nI long not for the coming morn.\nBe kind and show some mercy: see,\nMy suppliant hands are raised to thee.\nNay, rather fly with swifter pace;\nNo longer would I see the face\nOf Queen Kaikey\u00ed, cruel, dread,\nWho brings this woe upon mine head.\u201d\nAgain with suppliant hands he tried\nTo move the queen, and wept and sighed:\n\u201cTo me, unhappy me, inclined\nTo good, sweet dame, thou shouldst be kind;\nWhose life is well-nigh fled, who cling\nTo thee for succour, me thy king.\nThis, only this, is all my claim:\nHave mercy, O my lovely dame.\nNone else have I to take my part,\nHave mercy: thou art good at heart.\nHear, lady of the soft black eye,\nAnd win a name that ne\u2019er shall die:\nLet R\u00e1ma rule this glorious land,\nThe gift of thine imperial hand.\nO lady of the dainty waist,\nWith eyes and lips of beauty graced,\nPlease R\u00e1ma, me, each saintly priest,\nBharat, and all from chief to least.\u201d\n  She heard his wild and mournful cry,\n    She saw the tears his speech that broke,\nSaw her good husband\u2019s reddened eye,\n  But, cruel still, no word she spoke.\nHis eyes upon her face he bent,\n  And sought for mercy, but in vain:\nShe claimed his darling\u2019s banishment,\n  He swooned upon the ground again.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIV. R\u00e1ma Summoned.\n\n\nThe wicked queen her speech renewed,\nWhen rolling on the earth she viewed\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son, Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s king,\nFor his dear R\u00e1ma sorrowing:\n\u201cWhy, by a simple promise bound,\nLiest thou prostrate on the ground,\nAs though a grievous sin dismayed\nThy spirit! Why so sore afraid?\nKeep still thy word. The righteous deem\nThat truth, mid duties, is supreme:\nAnd now in truth and honour\u2019s name\nI bid thee own the binding claim.\n\u015aaivya, a king whom earth obeyed,\nOnce to a hawk a promise made,\nGave to the bird his flesh and bone,\nAnd by his truth made heaven his own.(277)\nAlarka, when a Br\u00e1hman famed\nFor Scripture lore his promise claimed,\nTore from his head his bleeding eyes\nAnd unreluctant gave the prize.\nHis narrow bounds prescribed restrain\nThe Rivers\u2019 Lord, the mighty main,\nWho, though his waters boil and rave,\nKeeps faithful to the word he gave.\nTruth all religion comprehends,\nThrough all the world its might extends:\nIn truth alone is justice placed,\nOn truth the words of God are based:\nA life in truth unchanging past\nWill bring the highest bliss at last.\nIf thou the right would still pursue,\nBe constant to thy word and true:\nLet me thy promise fruitful see,\nFor boons, O King, proceed from thee.\nNow to preserve thy righteous fame,\nAnd yielding to my earnest claim\u2014\nThrice I repeat it\u2014send thy child,\nThy R\u00e1ma, to the forest wild.\nBut if the boon thou still deny,\nBefore thy face, forlorn, I die.\u201d\n\n  Thus was the helpless monarch stung\nBy Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s fearless tongue,\nAs Bali strove in vain to loose\nHis limbs from Indra\u2019s fatal noose.\nDismayed in soul and pale with fear,\nThe monarch, like a trembling steer\nBetween the chariot\u2019s wheel and yoke,\nAgain to Queen Kaikey\u00ed spoke,\nWith sad eyes fixt in vacant stare,\nGathering courage from despair:\n\u201cThat hand I took, thou sinful dame,\nWith texts, before the sacred flame,\nThee and thy son, I scorn and hate,\nAnd all at once repudiate.\nThe night is fled: the dawn is near:\nSoon will the holy priests be here\nTo bid me for the rite prepare\nThat with my son the throne will share,\nThe preparation made to grace\nMy R\u00e1ma in his royal place\u2014\nWith this, e\u2019en this, my darling for\nMy death the funeral flood shall pour.\nThou and thy son at least forbear\nIn offerings to my shade to share,\nFor by the plot thy guile has laid\nHis consecration will be stayed.\nThis very day how shall I brook\nTo meet each subject\u2019s altered look?\nTo mark each gloomy joyless brow\nThat was so bright and glad but now?\u201d\n\n  While thus the high-souled monarch spoke\nTo the stern queen, the Morning broke,\nAnd holy night had slowly fled,\nWith moon and stars engarlanded.\nYet once again the cruel queen\nSpoke words in answer fierce and keen,\nStill on her evil purpose bent,\nWild with her rage and eloquent:\n\u201cWhat speech is this? Such words as these\nSeem sprung from poison-sown disease.\nQuick to thy noble R\u00e1ma send\nAnd bid him on his sire attend.\nWhen to my son the rule is given;\nWhen R\u00e1ma to the woods is driven;\nWhen not a rival copes with me,\nFrom chains of duty thou art free.\u201d\n\n  Thus goaded, like a generous steed\nUrged by sharp spurs to double speed,\n\u201cMy senses are astray,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cAnd duty\u2019s bonds my hands have tied.\nI long to see mine eldest son,\nMy virtuous, my beloved one.\u201d\n\n  And now the night had past away;\nOut shone the Maker of the Day,\nBringing the planetary hour\nAnd moment of auspicious power.\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, virtuous, far renowned,\nWhose young disciples girt him round,\nWith sacred things without delay\nThrough the fair city took his way.\nHe traversed, where the people thronged,\nAnd all for R\u00e1ma\u2019s coming longed,\nThe town as fair in festive show\nAs his who lays proud cities low.(278)\nHe reached the palace where he heard\nThe mingled notes of many a bird,\nWhere crowded thick high-honoured bands\nOf guards with truncheons in their hands.\nBegirt by many a sage, elate,\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha reached the royal gate,\nAnd standing by the door he found\nSumantra, for his form renowned,\nThe king\u2019s illustrious charioteer\nAnd noble counsellor and peer.\nTo him well skilled in every part\nOf his hereditary art\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha said: \u201cO charioteer,\nInform the king that I am here,\nHere ready by my side behold\nThese sacred vessels made of gold,\nWhich water for the rite contain\nFrom Gang\u00e1 and each distant main.\nHere for installing I have brought\nThe seat prescribed of fig-wood wrought,\nAll kinds of seed and precious scent\nAnd many a gem and ornament;\nGrain, sacred grass, the garden\u2019s spoil,\nHoney and curds and milk and oil;\nEight radiant maids, the best of all\nWar elephants that feed in stall;\nA four-horse car, a bow and sword.\nA litter, men to bear their lord;\nA white umbrella bright and fair\nThat with the moon may well compare;\nTwo chouries of the whitest hair;\nA golden beaker rich and rare;\nA bull high-humped and fair to view,\nGirt with gold bands and white of hue;\nA four-toothed steed with flowing mane,\nA throne which lions carved sustain;\nA tiger\u2019s skin, the sacred fire,\nFresh kindled, which the rites require;\nThe best musicians skilled to play,\nAnd dancing-girls in raiment gay;\nKine, Br\u00e1hmans, teachers fill the court,\nAnd bird and beast of purest sort.\nFrom town and village, far and near,\nThe noblest men are gathered here;\nHere merchants with their followers crowd,\nAnd men in joyful converse loud,\nAnd kings from many a distant land\nTo view the consecration stand.\nThe dawn is come, the lucky day;\nGo bid the monarch haste away,\nThat now Prince R\u00e1ma may obtain\nThe empire, and begin his reign.\u201d\n\n  Soon as he heard the high behest\nThe driver of the chariot pressed\nWithin the chambers of the king,\nHis lord with praises honouring.\nAnd none of all the warders checked\nHis entrance for their great respect\nOf him well known, in place so high,\nStill fain their king to gratify.\nHe stood beside the royal chief,\nUnwitting of his deadly grief,\nAnd with sweet words began to sing\nThe praises of his lord and king:\n\u201cAs, when the sun begins to rise,\nThe sparkling sea delights our eyes,\nWake, calm with gentle soul, and thus\nGive rapture, mighty King, to us.\nAs M\u00e1tali(279) this selfsame hour\nSang lauds of old to Indra\u2019s power,\nWhen he the Titan hosts o\u2019erthrew,\nSo hymn I thee with praises due.\nThe Vedas, with their kindred lore,\nBrahm\u00e1 their soul-born Lord adore,\nWith all the doctrines of the wise,\nAnd bid him, as I bid thee, rise.\nAs, with the moon, the Lord of Day\nWakes with the splendour of his ray\nProlific Earth, who neath him lies,\nSo, mighty King, I bid thee rise.\nWith blissful words, O Lord of men,\nRise, radiant in thy form, as when\nThe sun ascending darts his light\nFrom Meru\u2019s everlasting height.\nMay \u015aiva, Agni, Sun, and Moon\nBestow on thee each choicest boon,\nKuvera, Varu\u1e47a, Indra bless\nKakutstha\u2019s son with all success.\nAwake, the holy night is fled,\nThe happy light abroad is spread;\nAwake, O best of kings, and share\nThe glorious task that claims thy care.\nThe holy sage Va\u015bish\u1e6dha waits,\nWith all his Br\u00e1hmans, at the gate.\nGive thy decree, without delay,\nTo consecrate thy son today.\nAs armies, by no captain led,\nAs flocks that feed unshepherded,\nSuch is the fortune of a state\nWithout a king and desolate.\u201d\n\n  Such were the words the bard addressed,\nWith weight of sage advice impressed;\nAnd, as he heard, the hapless king\nFelt deeper yet his sorrow\u2019s sting.\nAt length, all joy and comfort fled,\nHe raised his eyes with weeping red,\nAnd, mournful for his R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake,\nThe good and glorious monarch spake:\n\u201cWhy seek with idle praise to greet\nThe wretch for whom no praise is meet?\nThy words mine aching bosom tear,\nAnd plunge me deeper in despair.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra heard the sad reply,\nAnd saw his master\u2019s tearful eye.\nWith reverent palm to palm applied\nHe drew a little space aside.\nThen, as the king, with misery weak,\nWith vain endeavour strove to speak,\nKaikey\u00ed, skilled in plot and plan,\nTo sage Sumantra thus began:\n\u201cThe king, absorbed in joyful thought\nFor his dear son, no rest has sought:\nSleepless to him the night has past,\nAnd now o\u2019erwatched he sinks at last.\nThen go, Sumantra, and with speed\nThe glorious R\u00e1ma hither lead:\nGo, as I pray, nor longer wait;\nNo time is this to hesitate.\u201d\n  \u201cHow can I go, O Lady fair,\nUnless my lord his will declare?\u201d\n  \u201cFain would I see him,\u201d cried the king,\n\u201cQuick, quick, my beauteous R\u00e1ma bring.\u201d\n  Then rose the happy thought to cheer\nThe bosom of the charioteer,\n\u201cThe king, I ween, of pious mind,\nThe consecration has designed.\u201d\nSumantra for his wisdom famed,\nDelighted with the thought he framed,\nFrom the calm chamber, like a bay\nOf crowded ocean, took his way.\n  He turned his face to neither side,\n  But forth he hurried straight;\nOnly a little while he eyed\nThe guards who kept the gate.\nHe saw in front a gathered crowd\n  Of men of every class,\nWho, parting as he came, allowed\n  The charioteer to pass.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XV. The Preparations.\n\n\n  There slept the Br\u00e1hmans, deeply read\nIn Scripture, till the night had fled;\nThen, with the royal chaplains, they\nTook each his place in long array.\nThere gathered fast the chiefs of trade,\nNor peer nor captain long delayed,\nAssembling all in order due\nThe consecrating rite to view.\n\n  The morning dawned with cloudless ray\nOn Pushya\u2019s high auspicious day,\nAnd Cancer with benignant power\nLooked down on R\u00e1ma\u2019s natal hour.\nThe twice-born chiefs, with zealous heed,\nMade ready what the rite would need.\nThe well-wrought throne of holy wood\nAnd golden urns in order stood.\nThere was the royal car whereon\nA tiger\u2019s skin resplendent shone;\nThere water, brought for sprinkling thence\nWhere, in their sacred confluence,\nBlend Jumn\u00e1\u2019s waves with Gang\u00e1\u2019s tide,\nFrom many a holy flood beside,\nFrom brook and fountain far and near,\nFrom pool and river, sea and mere.\nAnd there were honey, curd, and oil,\nParched rice and grass, the garden\u2019s spoil,\nFresh milk, eight girls in bright attire,\nAn elephant with eyes of fire;\nAnd urns of gold and silver made,\nWith milky branches overlaid,\nAll brimming from each sacred flood,\nAnd decked with many a lotus bud.\nAnd dancing-women fair and free,\nGay with their gems, were there to see,\nWho stood in bright apparel by\nWith lovely brow and witching eye.\nWhite flashed the jewelled chouri there,\nAnd shone like moonbeams through the air;\nThe white umbrella overhead\nA pale and moonlike lustre shed,\nWont in pure splendour to precede,\nAnd in such rites the pomp to lead.\nThere stood the charger by the side\nOf the great bull of snow-white hide;\nThere was all music soft and loud,\nAnd bards and minstrels swelled the crowd.\nFor now the monarch bade combine\nEach custom of his ancient line\nWith every rite Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s state\nObserved, her kings to consecrate.\n\n  Then, summoned by the king\u2019s behest,\nThe multitudes together pressed,\nAnd, missing still the royal sire,\nBegan, impatient, to inquire:\n\u201cWho to our lord will tidings bear\nThat all his people throng the square?\nWhere is the king? the sun is bright,\nAnd all is ready for the rite.\u201d\n\n  As thus they spoke, Sumantra, tried\nIn counsel, to the chiefs replied,\nGathered from lands on every side:\n\u201cTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s house I swiftly drave,\nFor so the king his mandate gave.\nOur aged lord and R\u00e1ma too\nIn honour high hold all of you:\nI in your words (be long your days!)\nWill ask him why he thus delays.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the peer in Scripture read,\nAnd to the ladies\u2019 bower he sped.\nQuick through the gates Sumantra hied,\nWhich access ne\u2019er to him denied.\nBehind the curtained screen he drew,\nWhich veiled the chamber from the view.\nIn benediction loud he raised\nHis voice, and thus the monarch praised:\n\u201cSun, Moon, Kuvera, \u015aiva bless\nKakutstha\u2019s son with high success!\nThe Lords of air, flood, fire decree\nThe victory, my King, to thee!\nThe holy night has past away,\nAuspicious shines the morning\u2019s ray.\nRise, Lord of men, thy part to take\nIn the great rite. Awake! awake!\nBr\u00e1hmans and captains, chiefs of trade,\nAll wait in festive garb arrayed;\nFor thee they look with eager eyes:\nO Raghu\u2019s son, awake! arise.\u201d\n\n  To him in holy Scripture read,\nWho hailed him thus, the monarch said,\nUpraising from his sleep his head:\n\u201cGo, R\u00e1ma, hither lead as thou\nWast ordered by the queen but now.\nCome, tell me why my mandate laid\nUpon thee thus is disobeyed.\nAway! and R\u00e1ma hither bring;\nI sleep not: make no tarrying.\u201d\n\n  Thus gave the king command anew:\nSumantra from his lord withdrew;\nWith head in lowly reverence bent,\nAnd filled with thoughts of joy, he went.\nThe royal street he traversed, where\nWaved flag and pennon to the air,\nAnd, as with joy the car he drove,\nHe let his eyes delighted rove.\nOn every side, where\u2019er he came,\nHe heard glad words, their theme the same,\nAs in their joy the gathered folk\nOf R\u00e1ma and the throning spoke.\nThen saw he R\u00e1ma\u2019s palace bright\nAnd vast as Mount Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s height,\nThat glorious in its beauty showed\nAs Indra\u2019s own supreme abode:\nWith folding doors both high and wide;\nWith hundred porches beautified:\nWhere golden statues towering rose\nO\u2019er gemmed and coralled porticoes.\nBright like a cave in Meru\u2019s side,\nOr clouds through Autumn\u2019s sky that ride:\nFestooned with length of bloomy twine,\nFlashing with pearls and jewels\u2019 shine,\nWhile sandal-wood and aloe lent\nThe mingled riches of their scent;\nWith all the odorous sweets that fill\nThe breezy heights of Dardar\u2019s hill.\nThere by the gate the S\u00e1ras screamed,\nAnd shrill-toned peacocks\u2019 plumage gleamed.\nIts floors with deftest art inlaid,\nIts sculptured wolves in gold arrayed,\nWith its bright sheen the palace took\nThe mind of man and chained the look,\nFor like the sun and moon it glowed,\nAnd mocked Kuvera\u2019s loved abode.\nCircling the walls a crowd he viewed\nWho stood in reverent attitude,\nWith throngs of countrymen who sought\nAcceptance of the gifts they brought.\nThe elephant was stationed there,\nAppointed R\u00e1ma\u2019s self to bear;\nAdorned with pearls, his brow and cheek\nWere sandal-dyed in many a streak,\nWhile he, in stature, bulk, and pride,\nWith Indra\u2019s own Air\u00e1vat(280) vied.\nSumantra, borne by coursers fleet,\nFlashing a radiance o\u2019er the street,\n  To R\u00e1ma\u2019s palace flew,\nAnd all who lined the royal road,\nOr thronged the prince\u2019s rich abode,\n  Rejoiced as near he drew.\nAnd with delight his bosom swelled\nAs onward still his course he held\nThrough many a sumptuous court\nLike Indra\u2019s palace nobly made,\nWhere peacocks revelled in the shade,\n  And beasts of silvan sort.\nThrough many a hall and chamber wide,\nThat with Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s splendour vied.\n  Or mansions of the Blest,\nWhile R\u00e1ma\u2019s friends, beloved and tried,\nBefore his coming stepped aside,\n  Still on Sumantra pressed.\nHe reached the chamber door, where stood\nAround his followers young and good,\nBard, minstrel, charioteer,\nWell skilled the tuneful chords to sweep,\nWith soothing strain to lull to sleep,\n  Or laud their master dear.\nThen, like a dolphin darting through\nUnfathomed depths of ocean\u2019s blue\n  With store of jewels decked,\nThrough crowded halls that rock-like rose,\nOr as proud hills where clouds repose,\n  Sumantra sped unchecked\u2014\nHalls like the glittering domes on high\nReared for the dwellers of the sky\n  By heavenly architect.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVI. R\u00e1ma Summoned.\n\n\nSo through the crowded inner door\nSumantra, skilled in ancient lore,\nOn to the private chambers pressed\nWhich stood apart from all the rest.\nThere youthful warriors, true and bold,\nWhose ears were ringed with polished gold,\nAll armed with trusty bows and darts,\nWatched with devoted eyes and hearts.\nAnd hoary men, a faithful train,\nWhose aged hands held staves of cane,\nThe ladies\u2019 guard, apparelled fair\nIn red attire, were stationed there.\nSoon as they saw Sumantra nigh,\nEach longed his lord to gratify,\nAnd from his seat beside the door\nUp sprang each ancient servitor.\nThen to the warders quickly cried\nThe skilled Sumantra, void of pride:\n\u201cTell R\u00e1ma that the charioteer\nSumantra waits for audience here.\u201d\nThe ancient men with one accord\nSeeking the pleasure of their lord,\nPassing with speed the chamber door\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s ear the message bore.\nForthwith the prince with duteous heed\nCalled in the messenger with speed,\nFor \u2019twas his sire\u2019s command, he knew,\nThat sent him for the interview.\nLike Lord Kuvera, well arrayed,\n  He pressed a couch of gold,\nWherefrom a covering of brocade\n  Hung down in many a fold.\nOil and the sandal\u2019s fragrant dust\n  Had tinged his body o\u2019er\nDark as the stream the spearman\u2019s thrust\n  Drains from the wounded boar.\nHim S\u00edt\u00e1 watched with tender care,\n  A chouri in her hand,\nAs Chitr\u00e1,(281) ever fond in fair,\n  Beside the Moon will stand.\nHim glorious with unborrowed light,\nA liberal lord, of sunlike might,\nSumantra hailed in words like these,\nWell skilled in gentle courtesies,\nAs, with joined hands in reverence raised,\nUpon the beauteous prince he gazed:\n\u201cHappy Kau\u015baly\u00e1! Blest is she,\nThe Mother of a son like thee.\nNow rise, O R\u00e1ma, speed away.\nGo to thy sire without delay:\nFor he and Queen Kaikey\u00ed seek\nAn interview with thee to speak.\u201d\n\n  The lion-lord of men, the best\nOf splendid heroes, thus addressed,\nTo S\u00edt\u00e1 spake with joyful cheer:\n\u201cThe king and queen, my lady dear,\nTouching the throning, for my sake\nSome salutary counsel take.\nThe lady of the full black eye\nWould fain her husband gratify,\nAnd, all his purpose understood,\nCounsels the monarch to my good.\nA happy fate is mine, I ween,\nWhen he, consulting with his queen,\nSumantra on this charge, intent\nUpon my gain and good, has sent.\nAn envoy of so noble sort\nWell suits the splendour of the court.\nThe consecration rite this day\nWill join me in imperial sway.\nTo meet the lord of earth, for so\nHis order bids me, I will go.\nThou, lady, here in comfort stay,\nAnd with thy maidens rest or play.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spake. For meet reply\nThe lady of the large black eye\nAttended to the door her lord,\nAnd blessings on his head implored:\n\u201cThe majesty and royal state\nWhich holy Br\u00e1hmans venerate,\nThe consecration and the rite\nWhich sanctifies the ruler\u2019s might,\nAnd all imperial powers should be\nThine by thy father\u2019s high decree,\nAs He, the worlds who formed and planned,\nThe kingship gave to Indra\u2019s hand.\nThen shall mine eyes my king adore\nWhen lustral rites and fast are o\u2019er,\nAnd black deer\u2019s skin and roebuck\u2019s horn\nThy lordly limbs and hand adorn.\nMay He whose hands the thunder wield\nBe in the east thy guard and shield;\nMay Y\u00e1ma\u2019s care the south befriend,\nAnd Varu\u1e47\u2019s arm the west defend;\nAnd let Kuvera, Lord of Gold,\nThe north with firm protection hold.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma spoke a kind farewell,\nAnd hailed the blessings as they fell\nFrom S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s gentle lips; and then,\nAs a young lion from his den\nDescends the mountain\u2019s stony side,\nSo from the hall the hero hied.\nFirst Lakshma\u1e47 at the door he viewed\nWho stood in reverent attitude,\nThen to the central court he pressed\nWhere watched the friends who loved him best.\nTo all his dear companions there\nHe gave kind looks and greeting fair.\nOn to the lofty car that glowed\nLike fire the royal tiger strode.\nBright as himself its silver shone:\nA tiger\u2019s skin was laid thereon.\nWith cloudlike thunder, as it rolled,\nIt flashed with gems and burnished gold,\nAnd, like the sun\u2019s meridian blaze,\nBlinded the eye that none could gaze.\nLike youthful elephants, tall and strong,\nFleet coursers whirled the car along:\nIn such a car the Thousand-eyed\nBorne by swift horses loves to ride.\nSo like Parjanya,(282) when he flies\nThundering through the autumn skies,\nThe hero from the palace sped,\nAs leaves the moon some cloud o\u2019erhead.\nStill close to R\u00e1ma Lakshma\u1e47 kept,\nBehind him to the car he leapt,\nAnd, watching with fraternal care,\nWaved the long chouri\u2019s silver hair,\nAs from the palace gate he came\nUp rose the tumult of acclaim.\nWhile loud huzza and jubilant shout\nPealed from the gathered myriads out.\nThen elephants, like mountains vast,\nAnd steeds who all their kind surpassed,\nFollowed their lord by hundreds, nay\nBy thousands, led in long array.\nFirst marched a band of warriors trained,\nWith sandal dust and aloe stained;\nWell armed was each with sword and bow,\nAnd every breast with hope aglow,\nAnd ever, as they onward went,\n  Shouts from the warrior train,\nAnd every sweet-toned instrument\n  Prolonged the minstrel strain.\nOn passed the tamer of his foes,\nWhile well clad dames, in crowded rows,\nEach chamber lattice thronged to view,\nAnd chaplets on the hero threw.\nThen all, of peerless face and limb,\nSang R\u00e1ma\u2019s praise for love of him,\nAnd blent their voices, soft and sweet,\nFrom palace high and crowded street:\n\u201cNow, sure, Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s heart must swell\nTo see the son she loves so well,\nThee R\u00e1ma, thee, her joy and pride,\nTriumphant o\u2019er the realm preside.\u201d\nThen\u2014for they knew his bride most fair\nOf all who part the soft dark hair,\nHis love, his life, possessed the whole\nOf her young hero\u2019s heart and soul:\u2014\n\u201cBe sure the lady\u2019s fate repays\nSome mighty vow of ancient days,(283)\nFor blest with R\u00e1ma\u2019s love is she\nAs, with the Moon\u2019s, sweet Rohin\u00ed.\u201d(284)\n\n  Such were the witching words that came\nFrom lips of many a peerless dame\nCrowding the palace roofs to greet\nThe hero as he gained the street.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Approach.\n\n\nAs R\u00e1ma, rendering blithe and gay\nHis loving friends, pursued his way,\nHe saw on either hand a press\nOf mingled people numberless.\nThe royal street he traversed, where\nIncense of aloe filled the air,\nWhere rose high palaces, that vied\nWith paly clouds, on either side;\nWith flowers of myriad colours graced.\nAnd food for every varied taste,\nBright as the glowing path o\u2019erhead\nWhich feet of Gods celestial tread,\nLoud benedictions, sweet to hear,\nFrom countless voices soothed his ear.\nWhile he to each gave due salute\nHis place and dignity to suit:\n\u201cBe thou,\u201d the joyful people cried,\n\u201cBe thou our guardian, lord and guide.\nThroned and anointed king to-day,\nThy feet set forth upon the way\nWherein, each honoured as a God,\nThy fathers and forefathers trod.\nThy sire and his have graced the throne,\nAnd loving care to us have shown:\nThus blest shall we and ours remain,\nYea still more blest in R\u00e1ma\u2019s reign.\nNo more of dainty fare we need,\nAnd but one cherished object heed,\nThat we may see our prince today\nInvested with imperial sway.\u201d\n\n  Such were the words and pleasant speech\nThat R\u00e1ma heard, unmoved, from each\nOf the dear friends around him spread,\nAs onward through the street he sped,\nFor none could turn his eye or thought\nFrom the dear form his glances sought,\nWith fruitless ardour forward cast\nEven when Raghu\u2019s son had past.\nAnd he who saw not R\u00e1ma nigh,\nNor caught a look from R\u00e1ma\u2019s eye,\nA mark for scorn and general blame,\nReproached himself in bitter shame.\nFor to each class his equal mind\nWith sympathy and love inclined\nMost fully of the princely four,\nSo greatest love to him they bore.\n\n  His circling course the hero bent\nRound shrine and altar, reverent,\nRound homes of Gods, where cross-roads met,\nWhere many a sacred tree was set.\nNear to his father\u2019s house he drew\nLike Indra\u2019s beautiful to view,\nAnd with the light his glory gave\nWithin the royal palace drave.\nThrough three broad courts, where bowmen kept\nTheir watch and ward, his coursers swept,\nThen through the two remaining went\nOn foot the prince pre\u00ebminent.\nThrough all the courts the hero passed,\nAnd gained the ladies\u2019 bower at last;\nThen through the door alone withdrew,\nAnd left without his retinue.\nWhen thus the monarch\u2019s noble boy\n  Had gone his sire to meet,\nThe multitude, elate with joy,\n  Stood watching in the street,\nAnd his return with eager eyes\n  Expected at the gates,\nAs for his darling moon to rise\n  The King of Rivers(285) waits.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVIII. The Sentence.\n\n\nWith hopeless eye and pallid mien\nThere sat the monarch with the queen.\nHis father\u2019s feet with reverence due\nHe clasped, and touched Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s too.\nThe king, with eyes still brimming o\u2019er,\nCried R\u00e1ma! and could do no more.\nHis voice was choked, his eye was dim,\nHe could not speak or look on him.\nThen sudden fear made R\u00e1ma shake\nAs though his foot had roused a snake,\nSoon as his eyes had seen the change\nSo mournful, terrible, and strange.\nFor there his reason well-nigh fled,\nSighing, with soul disquieted,\n  To torturing pangs a prey,\nDismayed, despairing, and distraught,\nIn a fierce whirl of wildering thought\n  The hapless monarch lay,\nLike Ocean wave-engarlanded\nStorm-driven from his tranquil bed,\n  The Sun-God in eclipse,\nOr like a holy seer, heart-stirred\nWith anguish, when a lying word\n  Has passed his heedless lips.\nThe sight of his dear father, pained\nWith woe and misery unexplained\n  Filled R\u00e1ma with unrest,\nAs Ocean\u2019s pulses rise and swell\nWhen the great moon he loves so well\n  Shines full upon his breast.\nSo grieving for his father\u2019s sake,\nTo his own heart the hero spake:\n\u201cWhy will the king my sire to-day\nNo kindly word of greeting say?\nAt other times, though wroth he be,\nHis eyes grow calm that look on me.\nThen why does anguish wring his brow\nTo see his well-beloved now?\u201d\nSick and perplexed, distraught with woe,\nTo Queen Kaikey\u00ed bowing low,\nWhile pallor o\u2019er his bright cheek spread,\nWith humble reverence he said:\n\u201cWhat have I done, unknown, amiss\nTo make my father wroth like this?\nDeclare it, O dear Queen, and win\nHis pardon for my heedless sin.\nWhy is the sire I ever find\nFilled with all love to-day unkind?\nWith eyes cast down and pallid cheek\nThis day alone he will not speak.\nOr lies he prostrate neath the blow\nOf fierce disease or sudden woe?\nFor all our bliss is dashed with pain,\nAnd joy unmixt is hard to gain.\nDoes stroke of evil fortune smite\nDear Bharat, charming to the sight,\nOr on the brave \u015aatrughna fall,\nOr consorts, for he loves them all?\nAgainst his words when I rebel,\nOr fail to please the monarch well,\nWhen deeds of mine his soul offend,\nThat hour I pray my life may end.\nHow should a man to him who gave\nHis being and his life behave?\nThe sire to whom he owes his birth\nShould be his deity on earth.\nHast thou, by pride and folly moved,\nWith bitter taunt the king reproved?\nHas scorn of thine or cruel jest\nTo passion stirred his gentle breast?\nSpeak truly, Queen, that I may know\nWhat cause has changed the monarch so.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the high-souled prince addressed,\nOf Raghu\u2019s sons the chief and best,\nShe cast all ruth and shame aside,\nAnd bold with greedy words replied:\n\u201cNot wrath, O R\u00e1ma, stirs the king,\nNor misery stabs with sudden sting;\nOne thought that fills his soul has he,\nBut dares not speak for fear of thee.\nThou art so dear, his lips refrain\nFrom words that might his darling pain.\nBut thou, as duty bids, must still\nThe promise of thy sire fulfil.\nHe who to me in days gone by\nVouchsafed a boon with honours high,\nDares now, a king, his word regret,\nAnd caitiff-like disowns the debt.\nThe lord of men his promise gave\nTo grant the boon that I might crave,\nAnd now a bridge would idly throw\nWhen the dried stream has ceased to flow.\nHis faith the monarch must not break\nIn wrath, or e\u2019en for thy dear sake.\nFrom faith, as well the righteous know,\nOur virtue and our merits flow.\nNow, be they good or be they ill,\nDo thou thy father\u2019s words fulfil:\nSwear that his promise shall not fail,\nAnd I will tell thee all the tale.\nYes, R\u00e1ma, when I hear that thou\nHast bound thee by thy father\u2019s vow,\nThen, not till then, my lips shall speak,\nNor will he tell what boon I seek.\u201d\n\n  He heard, and with a troubled breast\nThis answer to the queen addressed:\n\u201cAh me, dear lady, canst thou deem\nThat words like these thy lips beseem?\nI, at the bidding of my sire,\nWould cast my body to the fire,\nA deadly draught of poison drink,\nOr in the waves of ocean sink:\nIf he command, it shall be done,\u2014\nMy father and my king in one.\nThen speak and let me know the thing\nSo longed for by my lord the king.\nIt shall be done: let this suffice;\nR\u00e1ma ne\u2019er makes a promise twice.\u201d\n\n  He ended. To the princely youth\nWho loved the right and spoke the truth,\nCruel, abominable came\nThe answer of the ruthless dame:\n\u201cWhen Gods and Titans fought of yore,\nTransfixed with darts and bathed in gore\nTwo boons to me thy father gave\nFor the dear life \u2019twas mine to save.\nOf him I claim the ancient debt,\nThat Bharat on the throne be set,\nAnd thou, O R\u00e1ma, go this day\nTo Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest far away.\nNow, R\u00e1ma, if thou wilt maintain\nThy father\u2019s faith without a stain,\nAnd thine own truth and honour clear,\nThen, best of men, my bidding hear.\nDo thou thy father\u2019s word obey,\nNor from the pledge he gave me stray.\nThy life in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest spend\nTill nine long years and five shall end.\nUpon my Bharat\u2019s princely head\nLet consecrating drops be shed,\nWith all the royal pomp for thee\nMade ready by the king\u2019s decree.\nSeek Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest and resign\nRites that would make the empire thine,\nFor twice seven years of exile wear\nThe coat of bark and matted hair.\nThen in thy stead let Bharat reign\nLord of his royal sire\u2019s domain,\nRich in the fairest gems that shine,\nCars, elephants, and steeds, and kine.\nThe monarch mourns thy altered fate\nAnd vails his brow compassionate:\nBowed down by bitter grief he lies\nAnd dares not lift to thine his eyes.\nObey his word: be firm and brave,\nAnd with great truth the monarch save.\u201d\n  While thus with cruel words she spoke,\n    No grief the noble youth betrayed;\nBut forth the father\u2019s anguish broke,\n  At his dear R\u00e1ma\u2019s lot dismayed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIX. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Promise.\n\n\nCalm and unmoved by threatened woe\nThe noble conqueror of the foe\nAnswered the cruel words she spoke,\nNor quailed beneath the murderous stroke:\n\n  \u201cYea, for my father\u2019s promise sake\nI to the wood my way will take,\nAnd dwell a lonely exile there\nIn hermit dress with matted hair.\nOne thing alone I fain would learn,\nWhy is the king this day so stern?\nWhy is the scourge of foes so cold,\nNor gives me greeting as of old?\nNow let not anger flush thy cheek:\nBefore thy face the truth I speak,\nIn hermit\u2019s coat with matted hair\nTo the wild wood will I repair.\nHow can I fail his will to do,\nFriend, master, grateful sovereign too?\nOne only pang consumes my breast:\nThat his own lips have not expressed\nHis will, nor made his longing known\nThat Bharat should ascend the throne.\nTo Bharat I would yield my wife,\nMy realm and wealth, mine own dear life,\nUnasked I fain would yield them all:\nMore gladly at my father\u2019s call,\nMore gladly when the gift may free\nHis honour and bring joy to thee.\nThus, lady, his sad heart release\nFrom the sore shame, and give him peace.\nBut tell me, O, I pray thee, why\nThe lord of men, with downcast eye,\nLies prostrate thus, and one by one\nDown his pale cheek the tear-drops run.\nLet couriers to thy father speed\nOn horses of the swiftest breed,\nAnd, by the mandate of the king,\nThy Bharat to his presence bring.\nMy father\u2019s words I will not stay\nTo question, but this very day\nTo Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s pathless wild will fare,\nFor twice seven years an exile there.\u201d\n\n  When R\u00e1ma thus had made reply\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s heart with joy beat high.\nShe, trusting to the pledge she held,\nThe youth\u2019s departure thus impelled:\n\u201c\u2019Tis well. Be messengers despatched\nOn coursers ne\u2019er for fleetness matched,\nTo seek my father\u2019s home and lead\nMy Bharat back with all their speed.\nAnd, R\u00e1ma, as I ween that thou\nWilt scarce endure to linger now,\nSo surely it were wise and good\nThis hour to journey to the wood.\nAnd if, with shame cast down and weak,\nNo word to thee the king can speak,\nForgive, and from thy mind dismiss\nA trifle in an hour like this.\nBut till thy feet in rapid haste\nHave left the city for the waste,\nAnd to the distant forest fled,\nHe will not bathe nor call for bread.\u201d\n\n  \u201cWoe! woe!\u201d from the sad monarch burst,\nIn surging floods of grief immersed;\nThen swooning, with his wits astray,\nUpon the gold-wrought couch he lay,\nAnd R\u00e1ma raised the aged king:\nBut the stern queen, unpitying,\nChecked not her needless words, nor spared\nThe hero for all speed prepared,\nBut urged him with her bitter tongue,\nLike a good horse with lashes stung,\nShe spoke her shameful speech. Serene\nHe heard the fury of the queen,\nAnd to her words so vile and dread\nGently, unmoved in mind, he said:\n\u201cI would not in this world remain\nA grovelling thrall to paltry gain,\nBut duty\u2019s path would fain pursue,\nTrue as the saints themselves are true.\nFrom death itself I would not fly\nMy father\u2019s wish to gratify,\nWhat deed soe\u2019er his loving son\nMay do to please him, think it done.\nAmid all duties, Queen, I count\nThis duty first and paramount,\nThat sons, obedient, aye fulfil\nTheir honoured fathers\u2019 word and will.\nWithout his word, if thou decree,\nForth to the forest will I flee,\nAnd there shall fourteen years be spent\nMid lonely wilds in banishment.\nMethinks thou couldst not hope to find\nOne spark of virtue in my mind,\nIf thou, whose wish is still my lord,\nHast for this grace the king implored.\nThis day I go, but, ere we part,\nMust cheer my S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s tender heart,\nTo my dear mother bid farewell;\nThen to the woods, a while to dwell.\nWith thee, O Queen, the care must rest\nThat Bharat hear his sire\u2019s behest,\nAnd guard the land with righteous sway,\nFor such the law that lives for aye.\u201d\n\n  In speechless woe the father heard,\nWept with loud cries, but spoke no word.\nThen R\u00e1ma touched his senseless feet,\nAnd hers, for honour most unmeet;\nRound both his circling steps he bent,\nThen from the bower the hero went.\nSoon as he reached the gate he found\nHis dear companions gathered round.\nBehind him came Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s child\nWith weeping eyes so sad and wild.\nThen saw he all that rich array\nOf vases for the glorious day.\nRound them with reverent stops he paced,\nNor vailed his eye, nor moved in haste.\nThe loss of empire could not dim\nThe glory that encompassed him.\nSo will the Lord of Cooling Rays(286)\nOn whom the world delights to gaze,\nThrough the great love of all retain\nSweet splendour in the time of wane.\nNow to the exile\u2019s lot resigned\nHe left the rule of earth behind:\nAs though all worldly cares he spurned\nNo trouble was in him discerned.\nThe chouries that for kings are used,\nAnd white umbrella, he refused,\nDismissed his chariot and his men,\nAnd every friend and citizen.\nHe ruled his senses, nor betrayed\nThe grief that on his bosom weighed,\nAnd thus his mother\u2019s mansion sought\nTo tell the mournful news he brought.\nNor could the gay-clad people there\nWho flocked round R\u00e1ma true and fair,\nOne sign of altered fortune trace\nUpon the splendid hero\u2019s face.\nNor had the chieftain, mighty-armed,\nLost the bright look all hearts that charmed,\nAs e\u2019en from autumn moons is thrown\nA splendour which is all their own.\nWith his sweet voice the hero spoke\nSaluting all the gathered folk,\nThen righteous-souled and great in fame\nClose to his mother\u2019s house he came.\nLakshma\u1e47 the brave, his brother\u2019s peer\nIn princely virtues, followed near,\nSore troubled, but resolved to show\nNo token of his secret woe.\nThus to the palace R\u00e1ma went\n  Where all were gay with hope and joy;\nBut well he knew the dire event\n  That hope would mar, that bliss destroy.\nSo to his grief he would not yield\n  Lest the sad change their hearts might rend,\nAnd, the dread tiding unrevealed,\n  Spared from the blow each faithful friend.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XX. Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nBut in the monarch\u2019s palace, when\nSped from the bower that lord of men,\nUp from the weeping women went\nA mighty wail and wild lament:\n\u201cAh, he who ever freely did\nHis duty ere his sire could bid,\nOur refuge and our sure defence,\nThis day will go an exile hence,\nHe on Kau\u015baly\u00e1 loves to wait\nMost tender and affectionate,\nAnd as he treats his mother, thus\nFrom childhood has he treated us.\nOn themes that sting he will not speak,\nAnd when reviled is calm and meek.\nHe soothes the angry, heals offence:\nHe goes to-day an exile hence.\nOur lord the king is most unwise,\nAnd looks on life with doting eyes,\nWho in his folly casts away\nThe world\u2019s protection, hope, and stay.\u201d\n\n  Thus in their woe, like kine bereaved\nOf their young calves,(287) the ladies grieved,\nAnd ever as they wept and wailed\nWith keen reproach the king assailed.\nTheir lamentation, mixed with tears,\nSmote with new grief the monarch\u2019s ears,\nWho, burnt with woe too great to bear,\nFell on his couch and fainted there.\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, smitten with the pain\nHis heaving heart could scarce restrain,\nGroaned like an elephant and strode\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 to the queen\u2019s abode.\nA warder there, whose hoary eld\nIn honour high by all was held,\nGuarding the mansion, sat before\nThe portal, girt with many more.\nSwift to their feet the warders sprang,\nAnd loud the acclamation rang,\nHail, R\u00e1ma! as to him they bent,\nOf victor chiefs pre\u00ebminent.\nOne court he passed, and in the next\nSaw, masters of each Veda text,\nA crowd of Br\u00e1hmans, good and sage,\nDear to the king for lore and age.\nTo these he bowed his reverent head,\nThence to the court beyond he sped.\nOld dames and tender girls, their care\nTo keep the doors, were stationed there.\nAnd all, when R\u00e1ma came in view,\nDelighted to the chamber flew,\nTo bear to Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s ear\nThe tidings that she loved to hear.\nThe queen, on rites and prayer intent,\nIn careful watch the night had spent,\nAnd at the dawn, her son to aid,\nTo Vish\u1e47u holy offerings made.\nFirm in her vows, serenely glad,\nIn robes of spotless linen clad,\nAs texts prescribe, with grace implored,\nHer offerings in the fire she poured.\nWithin her splendid bower he came,\nAnd saw her feed the sacred flame.\nThere oil, and grain, and vases stood,\nWith wreaths, and curds, and cates, and wood,\nAnd milk, and sesamum, and rice,\nThe elements of sacrifice.\nShe, worn and pale with many a fast\nAnd midnight hours in vigil past,\nIn robes of purest white arrayed,\nTo Lakshm\u00ed Queen drink-offerings paid.\nSo long away, she flew to meet\n  The darling of her soul:\nSo runs a mare with eager feet\n  To welcome back her foal.\nHe with his firm support upheld\n  The queen, as near she drew,\nAnd, by maternal love impelled,\n  Her arms around him threw.\nHer hero son, her matchless boy\n  She kissed upon the head:\nShe blessed him in her pride and joy\n  With tender words, and said:\n\u201cBe like thy royal sires of old,\nThe nobly good, the lofty-souled!\nTheir lengthened days and fame be thine,\nAnd virtue, as beseems thy line!\nThe pious king, thy father, see\nTrue to his promise made to thee:\nThat truth thy sire this day will show,\nAnd regent\u2019s power on thee bestow.\u201d\n\n  She spoke. He took the proffered seat,\nAnd as she pressed her son to eat,\nRaised reverent bands, and, touched with shame,\nMade answer to the royal dame:\n\u201cDear lady, thou hast yet to know\nThat danger threats, and heavy woe:\nA grief that will with sore distress\nOn S\u00edt\u00e1, thee, and Lakshma\u1e47 press.\nWhat need of seats have such as I?\nThis day to Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood I fly.\nThe hour is come, a time, unmeet\nFor silken couch and gilded seat.\nI must to lonely wilds repair,\nAbstain from flesh, and living there\nOn roots, fruit, honey, hermit\u2019s food,\nPass twice seven years in solitude.\nTo Bharat\u2019s hand the king will yield\nThe regent power I thought to wield,\nAnd me, a hermit, will he send\nMy days in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood to spend.\u201d\n\n  As when the woodman\u2019s axe has lopped\nA \u015aal branch in the grove, she dropped:\nSo from the skies a Goddess falls\nEjected from her radiant halls.\n\n  When R\u00e1ma saw her lying low,\nProstrate by too severe a blow,\nAround her form his arms he wound\nAnd raised her fainting from the ground.\nHis hand upheld her like a mare\nWho feels her load too sore to bear,\nAnd sinks upon the way o\u2019ertoiled,\nAnd all her limbs with dust are soiled.\nHe soothed her in her wild distress\nWith loving touch and soft caress.\nShe, meet for highest fortune, eyed\nThe hero watching by her side,\nAnd thus, while Lakshma\u1e47 bent to hear,\nAddressed her son with many a tear!\n\u201cIf, R\u00e1ma, thou had ne\u2019er been born\nMy child to make thy mother mourn,\nThough reft of joy, a childless queen,\nSuch woe as this I ne\u2019er had seen.\nThough to the childless wife there clings\nOne sorrow armed with keenest stings,\n\u201cNo child have I: no child have I,\u201d\nNo second misery prompts the sigh.\nWhen long I sought, alas, in vain,\nMy husband\u2019s love and bliss to gain,\nIn R\u00e1ma all my hopes I set\nAnd dreamed I might be happy yet.\nI, of the consorts first and best,\nMust bear my rivals\u2019 taunt and jest,\nAnd brook, though better far than they,\nThe soul distressing words they say.\nWhat woman can be doomed to pine\nIn misery more sore than mine,\nWhose hopeless days must still be spent\nIn grief that ends not and lament?\nThey scorned me when my son was nigh;\nWhen he is banished I must die.\nMe, whom my husband never prized,\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s retinue despised\nWith boundless insolence, though she\nTops not in rank nor equals me.\nAnd they who do me service yet,\nNor old allegiance quite forget,\nWhene\u2019er they see Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s son,\nWith silent lips my glances shun.\nHow, O my darling, shall I brook\nEach menace of Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s look,\nAnd listen, in my low estate,\nTo taunts of one so passionate?\nFor seventeen years since thou wast born\nI sat and watched, ah me, forlorn!\nHoping some blessed day to see\nDeliverance from my woes by thee.\nNow comes this endless grief and wrong,\nSo dire I cannot bear it long,\nSinking, with age and sorrow worn,\nBeneath my rivals\u2019 taunts and scorn.\nHow shall I pass in dark distress\nMy long lone days of wretchedness\nWithout my R\u00e1ma\u2019s face, as bright\nAs the full moon to cheer my sight?\nAlas, my cares thy steps to train,\nAnd fasts, and vows, and prayers are vain.\nHard, hard, I ween, must be this heart\nTo hear this blow nor burst apart,\nAs some great river bank, when first\nThe floods of Rain-time on it burst.\nNo, Fate that speeds not will not slay,\n    Nor Yama\u2019s halls vouchsafe me room,\n  Or, like a lion\u2019s weeping prey,\n    Death now had borne me to my doom.\n  Hard is my heart and wrought of steel\n    That breaks not with the crushing blow,\n  Or in the pangs this day I feel\n    My lifeless frame had sunk below.\n  Death waits his hour, nor takes me now:\n    But this sad thought augments my pain,\n  That prayer and largess, fast and vow,\n    And Heavenward service are in vain.\n  Ah me, ah me! with fruitless toil\n    Of rites austere a child I sought:\n  Thus seed cast forth on barren soil\n    Still lifeless lies and comes to naught.\n  If ever wretch by anguish grieved\n    Before his hour to death had fled,\n  I mourning, like a cow bereaved,\n    Had been this day among the dead.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXI. Kausaly\u00e1 Calmed.\n\n\nWhile thus Kau\u015baly\u00e1 wept and sighed,\nWith timely words sad Lakshma\u1e47 cried:\n\u201cO honoured Queen I like it ill\nThat, subject to a woman\u2019s will,\nR\u00e1ma his royal state should quit\nAnd to an exile\u2019s doom submit.\nThe aged king, fond, changed, and weak,\nWill as the queen compels him speak.\nBut why should R\u00e1ma thus be sent\nTo the wild woods in banishment?\nNo least offence I find in him,\nI see no fault his fame to dim.\nNot one in all the world I know,\nNot outcast wretch, not secret foe,\nWhose whispering lips would dare assail\nHis spotless life with slanderous tale.\nGodlike and bounteous, just, sincere,\nE\u2019en to his very foemen dear:\nWho would without a cause neglect\nThe right, and such a son reject?\nAnd if a king such order gave,\nIn second childhood, passion\u2019s slave,\nWhat son within his heart would lay\nThe senseless order, and obey?\nCome, R\u00e1ma, ere this plot be known\nStand by me and secure the throne.\nStand like the King who rules below,\nStand aided by thy brother\u2019s bow:\nHow can the might of meaner men\nResist thy royal purpose then?\nMy shafts, if rebels court their fate,\nShall lay Ayodhy\u00e1 desolate.\nThen shall her streets with blood be dyed\nOf those who stand on Bharat\u2019s side:\nNone shall my slaughtering hand exempt,\nFor gentle patience earns contempt.\nIf, by Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s counsel changed,\nOur father\u2019s heart be thus estranged,\nNo mercy must our arm restrain,\nBut let the foe be slain, be slain.\nFor should the guide, respected long,\nNo more discerning right and wrong,\nTurn in forbidden paths to stray,\n\u2019Tis meet that force his steps should stay.\nWhat power sufficient can he see,\nWhat motive for the wish has he,\nThat to Kaikey\u00ed would resign\nThe empire which is justly thine?\nCan he, O conqueror of thy foes,\nThy strength and mine in war oppose?\nCan he entrust, in our despite,\nTo Bharat\u2019s hand thy royal right?\nI love this brother with the whole\nAffection of my faithful soul.\nYea Queen, by bow and truth I swear,\nBy sacrifice, and gift, and prayer,\nIf R\u00e1ma to the forest goes,\nOr where the burning furnace glows,\nFirst shall my feet the forest tread,\nThe flames shall first surround my head.\nMy might shall chase thy grief and tears,\nAs darkness flies when morn appears.\nDo thou, dear Queen, and R\u00e1ma too\nBehold what power like mine can do.\nMy aged father I will kill,\nThe vassal of Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s will,\nOld, yet a child, the woman\u2019s thrall,\nInfirm, and base, the scorn of all.\u201d\n\n  Thus Lakshma\u1e47 cried, the mighty-souled:\nDown her sad cheeks the torrents rolled,\nAs to her son Kau\u015baly\u00e1 spake:\n\n  \u201cNow thou hast heard thy brother, take\nHis counsel if thou hold it wise,\nAnd do the thing his words advise,\nDo not, my son, with tears I pray,\nMy rival\u2019s wicked word obey,\nLeave me not here consumed with woe,\nNor to the wood, an exile, go.\nIf thou, to virtue ever true,\nThy duty\u2019s path would still pursue,\nThe highest duty bids thee stay\nAnd thus thy mother\u2019s voice obey.\nThus Ka\u015byap\u2019s great ascetic son\nA seat among the Immortals won:\nIn his own home, subdued, he stayed,\nAnd honour to his mother paid.\nIf reverence to thy sire be due,\nThy mother claims like honour too,\nAnd thus I charge thee, O my child,\nThou must not seek the forest wild.\nAh, what to me were life and bliss,\nCondemned my darling son to miss?\nBut with my R\u00e1ma near, to eat\nThe very grass itself were sweet.\nBut if thou still wilt go and leave\nThy hapless mother here to grieve,\nI from that hour will food abjure,\nNor life without my son endure.\nThen it will be thy fate to dwell\nIn depth of world-detested hell.\nAs Ocean in the olden time\nWas guilty of an impious crime\nThat marked the lord of each fair flood\nAs one who spills a Br\u00e1hman\u2019s blood.\u201d(288)\n\n  Thus spake the queen, and wept, and sighed:\nThen righteous R\u00e1ma thus replied:\n\u201cI have no power to slight or break\nCommandments which my father spake.\nI bend my head, dear lady, low,\nForgive me, for I needs must go.\nOnce Ka\u1e47du, mighty saint, who made\nHis dwelling in the forest shade,\nA cow\u2014and duty\u2019s claims he knew\u2014\nObedient to his father, slew.\nAnd in the line from which we spring,\nWhen ordered by their sire the king,\nThrough earth the sons of Sagar cleft,\nAnd countless things of life bereft.(289)\nSo Jamadagn\u00ed\u2019s son(290) obeyed\nHis sire, when in the wood he laid\nHis hand upon his axe, and smote\nThrough Renuk\u00e1 his mother\u2019s throat.\nThe deeds of these and more beside.\nPeers of the Gods, my steps shall guide,\nAnd resolute will I fulfil\nMy father\u2019s word, my father\u2019s will.\nNor I, O Queen, unsanctioned tread\nThis righteous path, by duty led:\nThe road my footsteps journey o\u2019er\nWas traversed by the great of yore.\nThis high command which all accept\nShall faithfully by me be kept,\nFor duty ne\u2019er will him forsake\nWho fears his sire\u2019s command to break.\u201d\n\n  Thus to his mother wild with grief:\nThen thus to Lakshma\u1e47 spake the chief\nOf those by whom the bow is bent,\nMid all who speak, most eloquent:\n\u201cI know what love for me thou hast,\nWhat firm devotion unsurpassed:\nThy valour and thy worth I know,\nAnd glory that appals the foe.\nBlest youth, my mother\u2019s woe is great,\nIt bends her \u2019neath its matchless weight:\nNo claims will she, with blinded eyes,\nOf truth and patience recognize.\nFor duty is supreme in place,\nAnd truth is duty\u2019s noblest base.\nObedient to my sire\u2019s behest\nI serve the cause of duty best.\nFor man should truly do whate\u2019er\nTo mother, Br\u00e1hman, sire, he sware:\nHe must in duty\u2019s path remain,\nNor let his word be pledged in vain.\nAnd, O my brother, how can I\nObedience to this charge deny?\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s tongue my purpose spurred,\nBut \u2019twas my sire who gave the word.\nCast these unholy thoughts aside\nWhich smack of war and Warriors\u2019 pride;\nTo duty\u2019s call, not wrath attend,\nAnd tread the path which I commend.\u201d\n\n  R\u00e1ma by fond affection moved\nHis brother Lakshma\u1e47 thus reproved;\nThen with joined hands and reverent head\nAgain to Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 said:\n\n  \u201cI needs must go\u2014do thou consent\u2014\nTo the wild wood in banishment.\nO give me, by my life I pray,\nThy blessing ere I go away.\nI, when the promised years are o\u2019er,\nShall see Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town once more.\nThen, mother dear, thy tears restrain,\nNor let thy heart be wrung by pain:\nIn time, my father\u2019s will obeyed,\nShall I return from greenwood shade.\nMy dear Videhan, thou, and I,\nLakshma\u1e47, Sumitr\u00e1, feel this tie,\nAnd must my father\u2019s word obey,\nAs duty bids that rules for aye.\nThy preparations now forgo,\nAnd lock within thy breast thy woe,\nNor be my pious wish withstood\nTo go an exile to the wood.\u201d\n\nCalm and unmoved the prince explained\n  His duty\u2019s claim and purpose high,\nThe mother life and sense regained,\n  Looked on her son and made reply:\n\u201cIf reverence be thy father\u2019s due,\n  The same by right and love is mine:\nGo not, my charge I thus renew,\n  Nor leave me here in woe to pine,\nWhat were such lonely life to me,\n  Rites to the shades, or deathless lot?\nMore dear, my son, one hour with thee\n  Than all the world where thou art not.\u201d\nAs bursts to view, when brands blaze high,\n  Some elephant concealed by night,\nSo, when he heard his mother\u2019s cry,\n  Burnt R\u00e1ma\u2019s grief with fiercer might.\nThus to the queen, half senseless still,\n  And Lakshma\u1e47, burnt with heart-felt pain,\nTrue to the right, with steadfast will,\n  His duteous speech he spoke again:\n\u201cBrother, I know thy loving mind,\n  Thy valour and thy truth I know,\nBut now to claims of duty blind\n  Thou and my mother swell my woe.\nThe fruits of deeds in human life\n  Make love, gain, duty, manifest,\nDear when they meet as some fond wife\n  With her sweet babes upon her breast.\nBut man to duty first should turn\n  Whene\u2019er the three are not combined:\nFor those who heed but gain we spurn,\n  And those to pleasure all resigned.\nShall then the virtuous disobey\n  Hosts of an aged king and sire,\nThough feverous joy that father sway,\n  Or senseless love or causeless ire?\nI have no power, commanded thus,\n  To slight his promise and decree:\nThe honoured sire of both of us,\n  My mother\u2019s lord and life is he.\nShall she, while yet the holy king\n  Is living, on the right intent,\u2014\nShall she, like some poor widowed thing,\n  Go forth with me to banishment?\nNow, mother, speed thy parting son,\n  And let thy blessing soothe my pain,\nThat I may turn, mine exile done,\n  Like King Yay\u00e1ti, home again.\nFair glory and the fruit she gives,\n  For lust of sway I ne\u2019er will slight:\nWhat, for the span a mortal lives.\n  Were rule of faith without the right?\u201d\nHe soothed her thus, firm to the last\n  His counsel to his brother told:\nThen round the queen in reverence passed,\n  And held her in his loving hold.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXII. Lakshman Calmed.\n\n\nSo R\u00e1ma kept unshaken still\nHis noble heart with iron will.\nTo his dear brother next he turned,\nWhose glaring eyes with fury burned,\nIndignant, panting like a snake,\nAnd thus again his counsel spake:\n\u201cThine anger and thy grief restrain,\nAnd firm in duty\u2019s path remain.\nDear brother, lay thy scorn aside,\nAnd be the right thy joy and pride.\nThy ready zeal and thoughtful care\nTo aid what rites should grace the heir,\u2014\nThese \u2019tis another\u2019s now to ask;\nCome, gird thee for thy noble task,\nThat Bharat\u2019s throning rites may he\nGraced with the things prepared for me.\nAnd with thy gentle care provide\nThat her fond heart, now sorely tried\nWith fear and longing for my sake,\nWith doubt and dread may never ache.\nTo know that thoughts of coming ill\nOne hour that tender bosom fill\nWith agony and dark despair\nIs grief too great for me to bear.\nI cannot, brother, call to mind\nOne wilful fault or undesigned,\nWhen I have pained in anything\nMy mothers or my sire the king.\nThe right my father keeps in view,\nIn promise, word, and action true;\nLet him then all his fear dismiss,\nNor dread the loss of future bliss.\nHe fears his truth herein will fail:\nHence bitter thoughts his heart assail.\nHe trembles lest the rites proceed,\nAnd at his pangs my heart should bleed.\nSo now this earnest wish is mine,\nThe consecration to resign,\nAnd from this city turn away\nTo the wild wood with no delay.\nMy banishment to-day will free\nKaikey\u00ed from her cares, that she,\nAt last contented and elate,\nMay Bharat\u2019s throning celebrate.\nThen will the lady\u2019s trouble cease,\nThen will her heart have joy and peace,\nWhen wandering in the wood I wear\nDeerskin, and bark, and matted hair.\nNor shall by me his heart be grieved\nWhose choice approved, whose mind conceived\nThis counsel which I follow. No,\nForth to the forest will I go.\n\u2019Tis Fate, Sumitr\u00e1s son, confess,\nThat sends me to the wilderness.\n\u2019Tis Fate alone that gives away\nTo other hands the royal sway.\nHow could Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s purpose bring\nOn me this pain and suffering,\nWere not her change of heart decreed\nBy Fate whose will commands the deed?\nI know my filial love has been\nThe same throughout for every queen,\nAnd with the same affection she\nHas treated both her son and me.\nHer shameful words of cruel spite\nTo stay the consecrating rite,\nAnd drive me banished from the throne,\u2014\nThese I ascribe to Fate alone,\nHow could she, born of royal race,\nWhom nature decks with fairest grace,\nSpeak like a dame of low degree\nBefore the king to torture me?\nBut Fate, which none may comprehend,\nTo which all life must bow and bend,\nIn her and me its power has shown,\nAnd all my hopes are overthrown.\nWhat man, Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s darling, may\nContend with Fate\u2019s resistless sway,\nWhose all-commanding power we find\nOur former deeds alone can bind?\nOur life and death, our joy and pain,\nAnger and fear, and loss and gain,\nEach thing that is, in every state,\nAll is the work of none but Fate.\nE\u2019en saints, inspired with rigid zeal,\nWhen once the stroke of Fate they feel,\nIn sternest vows no more engage,\nAnd fall enslaved by love and rage.\nSo now the sudden stroke whose weight\nDescends unlooked for, comes of Fate,\nAnd with unpitying might destroys\nThe promise of commencing joys.\nWeigh this true counsel in thy soul:\nWith thy firm heart thy heart control;\nThen, brother, thou wilt cease to grieve\nFor hindered rites which now I leave.\nSo cast thy needless grief away,\nAnd strictly my commands obey.\nThose preparations check with speed,\nNor let my throning rites proceed.\nThose urns that stand prepared to shed\nKing-making drops upon my head,\nShall, with their pure lustrations now\nInaugurate my hermit\u2019s vow.\nYet what have I to do with things\nThat touch the state and pomp of kings?\nThese hands of mine shall water take\nTo sanctify the vow I make.\nNow Lakshma\u1e47, let thy heart no more\nMy fortune changed and lost deplore.\nA forest life more joys may bring\nThan those that wait upon a king,\nNow though her arts successful mar\n    My consecrating rite,\n  Let not the youngest queen too far\n    Thy jealous fear excite.\n  Nor let one thought suggesting ill\n    Upon our father fall,\n  But let thy heart remember still\n    That Fate is lord of all.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIII. Lakshman\u2019s Anger.\n\n\nThus R\u00e1ma to his brother said;\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 bent his drooping head.\nIn turns by grief and pride impelled,\nA middle course of thought he held,\nThen in a frown of anger, bent\nHis brows that chief most excellent,\nAnd like a serpent in his hole,\nBreathed fierce and fast in wrath of soul.\nHis threatening brows so darkly frowned,\nHis eyes so fiercely glanced around,\nThey made his glare, which none might brook,\nLike some infuriate lion\u2019s look.\nLike some wild elephant, full oft\nHe raised and shook his hand(291) aloft.\nNow turned his neck to left and right\nNow bent, now raised its stately height.\nNow in his rage that sword he felt\nWhich mangling wounds to foemen dealt,\nWith sidelong glance his brother eyed,\nAnd thus in burning words replied:\n\u201cThy rash resolve, thy eager haste,\nThy mighty fear, are all misplaced:\nNo room is here for duty\u2019s claim,\nNo cause to dread the people\u2019s blame.\nCan one as brave as thou consent\nTo use a coward\u2019s argument?\nThe glory of the Warrior race\nWith craven speech his lips debase?\nCan one like thee so falsely speak,\nExalting Fate, confessed so weak?\nCanst thou, undoubting still restrain?\nSuspicions of those sinful twain?\nCanst thou, most duteous, fail to know\nTheir hearts are set on duty\u2019s show?\nThey with deceit have set their trains,\nAnd now the fruit rewards their pains.\nHad they not long ago agreed,\nO R\u00e1ma, on this treacherous deed,\nThat promised boon, so long retained,\nHe erst had given and she had gained.\nI cannot, O my brother, bear\nTo see another throned as heir\nWith rites which all our people hate:\nThen, O, this passion tolerate.\nThis vaunted duty which can guide\nThy steps from wisdom\u2019s path aside,\nAnd change the counsel of thy breast,\nO lofty-hearted, I detest.\nWilt thou, when power and might are thine,\nSubmit to this abhorred design?\nThy father\u2019s impious hest fulfil,\nThat vassal of Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s will?\nBut if thou still wilt shut thine eyes,\nNor see the guile herein that lies,\nMy soul is sad, I deeply mourn,\nAnd duty seems a thing to scorn.\nCanst thou one moment think to please\nThis pair who live for love and ease,\nAnd \u2019gainst thy peace, as foes, allied,\nWith tenderest names their hatred hide?\nNow if thy judgment still refers\nTo Fate this plot of his and hers,\nMy mind herein can ne\u2019er agree:\nAnd O, in this be ruled by me.\nWeak, void of manly pride are they\nWho bend to Fate\u2019s imputed sway:\nThe choicest souls, the nobly great\nDisdain to bow their heads to Fate.\nAnd he who dares his Fate control\nWith vigorous act and manly soul,\nThough threatening Fate his hopes assail,\nUnmoved through all need never quail.\nThis day mankind shall learn aright\nThe power of Fate and human might,\nSo shall the gulf that lies between\nA man and Fate be clearly seen.\nThe might of Fate subdued by me\nThis hour the citizens shall see,\nWho saw its intervention stay\nThy consecrating rites to-day.\nMy power shall turn this Fate aside,\nThat threatens, as, with furious stride,\nAn elephant who scorns to feel,\nIn rage unchecked, the driver\u2019s steel.\nNot the great Lords whose sleepless might\nProtects the worlds, shall stay the rite\nThough earth, hell, heaven combine their powers:\nAnd shall we fear this sire of ours?\nThen if their minds are idly bent\nTo doom thee, King, to banishment,\nThrough twice seven years of exile they\nShall in the lonely forest stay.\nI will consume the hopes that fire\nThe queen Kaikey\u00ed and our sire,\nThat to her son this check will bring\nAdvantage, making Bharat king.\nThe power of Fate will ne\u2019er withstand\nThe might that arms my vigorous hand;\nIf danger and distress assail,\nMy fearless strength will still prevail.\nA thousand circling years shall flee:\nThe forest then thy home shall be,\nAnd thy good sons, succeeding, hold\nThe empire which their sire controlled.\nThe royal saints, of old who reigned,\nFor aged kings this rest ordained:\nThese to their sons their realm commit\nThat they, like sires, may cherish it.\nO pious soul, if thou decline\nThe empire which is justly thine,\nLest, while the king distracted lies,\nDisorder in the state should rise,\nI,\u2014or no mansion may I find\nIn worlds to hero souls assigned,\u2014\nThe guardian of thy realm will be,\nAs the sea-bank protects the sea.\nThen cast thine idle fears aside:\nWith prosperous rites be sanctified.\nThe lords of earth may strive in vain:\nMy power shall all their force restrain.\nMy pair of arms, my warrior\u2019s bow\nAre not for pride or empty show:\nFor no support these shafts were made;\nAnd binding up ill suits my blade:\nTo pierce the foe with deadly breach\u2014\nThis is the work of all and each.\nBut small, methinks the love I show\nFor him I count my mortal foe.\nSoon as my trenchant steel is bare,\nFlashing its lightning through the air,\nI heed no foe, nor stand aghast\nThough Indra\u2019s self the levin cast.\nThen shall the ways be hard to pass,\nWhere chariots lie in ruinous mass;\nWhen elephant and man and steed\nCrushed in the murderous onslaught bleed,\nAnd legs and heads fall, heap on heap,\nBeneath my sword\u2019s tremendous sweep.\nStruck by my keen brand\u2019s trenchant blade,\nThine enemies shall fall dismayed,\nLike towering mountains rent in twain,\nOr lightning clouds that burst in rain.\nWhen armed with brace and glove I stand,\nAnd take my trusty bow in hand,\nWho then shall vaunt his might? who dare\nCount him a man to meet me there?\nThen will I loose my shafts, and strike\nMan, elephant, and steed alike:\nAt one shall many an arrow fly,\nAnd many a foe with one shall die.\nThis day the world my power shall see,\nThat none in arms can rival me:\nMy strength the monarch shall abase,\nAnd set thee, lord, in lordliest place.\nThese arms which breathe the sandal\u2019s scent,\nWhich golden bracelets ornament,\nThese hands which precious gifts bestow,\nWhich guard the friend and smite the foe,\nA nobler service shall assay,\nAnd fight in R\u00e1ma\u2019s cause to-day,\nThe robbers of thy rights to stay.\n  Speak, brother, tell thy foeman\u2019s name\n    Whom I, in conquering strife,\n  May strip of followers and fame,\n    Of fortune, or of life.\n  Say, how may all this sea-girt land\n    Be brought to own thy sway:\n  Thy faithful servant here I stand\n    To listen and obey.\u201d\n  Then strove the bride of Raghu\u2019s race\n    Sad Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s heart to cheer,\n  While slowly down the hero\u2019s face,\n    Unchecked, there rolled a tear.\n  \u201cThe orders of my sire,\u201d he cried,\n    \u201cMy will shall ne\u2019er oppose:\n  I follow still, whate\u2019er betide,\n    The path which duty shows.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIV. Kausaly\u00e1 Calmed.\n\n\nBut when Kau\u015baly\u00e1saw that he\nResolved to keep his sire\u2019s decree,\nWhile tears and sobs her utterance broke,\nHer very righteous speech she spoke:\n\u201cCan he, a stranger yet to pain,\nWhose pleasant words all hearts enchain,\nSon of the king and me the queen,\nLive on the grain his hands may glean;\nCan he, whose slaves and menials eat\nThe finest cakes of sifted wheat\u2014\nCan R\u00e1ma in the forest live\nOn roots and fruit which woodlands give;\nWho will believe, who will not fear\nWhen the sad story smites his ear,\nThat one so dear, so noble held,\nIs by the king his sire expelled?\nNow surely none may Fate resist,\nWhich orders all as it may list,\nIf, R\u00e1ma, in thy strength and grace,\nThe woods become thy dwelling-place.\nA childless mother long I grieved,\nAnd many a sigh for offspring heaved,\nWith wistful longing weak and worn\nTill thou at last, my son, wast born.\nFanned by the storm of that desire\nDeep in my soul I felt the fire,\nWhose offerings flowed from weeping eyes,\nWith fuel fed of groans and sighs,\nWhile round the flame the smoke grew hot\nOf tears because thou camest not.\nNow reft of thee, too fiery fierce\nThe flame of woe my heart will pierce,\nAs, when the days of spring return,\nThe sun\u2019s hot beams the forest burn.\nThe mother cow still follows near\nThe wanderings of her youngling dear.\nSo close to thine my feet shall be,\nWhere\u2019er thou goest following thee.\u201d\n\n  R\u00e1ma, the noblest lord of men,\nHeard his fond mother\u2019s speech, and then\nIn soothing words like these replied\nTo the sad queen who wept and sighed:\n\u201cNay, by Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s art beguiled,\nWhen I am banished to the wild,\nIf thou, my mother, also fly,\nThe aged king will surely die.\nWhen wedded dames their lords forsake,\nLong for the crime their souls shall ache.\nThou must not e\u2019en in thought within\nThy bosom frame so dire a sin.\nLong as Kakutstha\u2019s son, who reigns\nLord of the earth, in life remains,\nThou must with love his will obey:\nThis duty claims, supreme for aye.\nYes, mother, thou and I must be\nSubmissive to my sire\u2019s decree,\nKing, husband, sire is he confessed,\nThe lord of all, the worthiest.\nI in the wilds my days will spend\nTill twice seven years have reached an end,\nThen with great joy will come again,\nAnd faithful to thy hests remain.\u201d\n\n  Kau\u015baly\u00e1 by her son addressed,\nWith love and passion sore distressed,\nAfflicted, with her eyes bedewed,\nTo R\u00e1ma thus her speech renewed:\n  \u201cNay, R\u00e1ma, but my heart will break\nIf with these queens my home I make.\nLead me too with thee; let me go\nAnd wander like a woodland roe.\u201d\n  Then, while no tear the hero shed,\nThus to the weeping queen he said:\n\u201cMother, while lives the husband, he\nIs woman\u2019s lord and deity.\nO dearest lady, thou and I\nOur lord and king must ne\u2019er deny;\nThe lord of earth himself have we\nOur guardian wise and friend to be.\nAnd Bharat, true to duty\u2019s call,\nWhose sweet words take the hearts of all,\nWill serve thee well, and ne\u2019er forget\nThe virtuous path before him set.\nBe this, I pray, thine earnest care,\nThat the old king my father ne\u2019er,\nWhen I have parted hence, may know,\nGrieved for his son, a pang of woe.\nLet not this grief his soul distress,\nTo kill him with the bitterness.\nWith duteous care, in every thing,\nLove, comfort, cheer the aged king.\nThough, best of womankind, a spouse\nKeeps firmly all her fasts and vows,\nNor yet her husband\u2019s will obeys,\nShe treads in sin\u2019s forbidden ways.\nShe to her husband\u2019s will who bends,\nGoes to high bliss that never ends,\nYea, though the Gods have found in her\nNo reverential worshipper.\nBent on his weal, a woman still\nMust seek to do her husband\u2019s will:\nFor Scripture, custom, law uphold\nThis duty Heaven revealed of old.\nHonour true Br\u00e1hmans for my sake,\nAnd constant offerings duly make,\nWith fire-oblations and with flowers,\nTo all the host of heavenly powers.\nLook to the coming time, and yearn\nFor the glad hour of my return.\nAnd still thy duteous course pursue,\nAbstemious, humble, kind, and true.\nThe highest bliss shalt thou obtain\nWhen I from exile come again,\nIf, best of those who keep the right,\nThe king my sire still see the light.\u201d\n\n  The queen, by R\u00e1ma thus addressed,\nStill with a mother\u2019s grief oppressed,\nWhile her long eyes with tears were dim,\nBegan once more and answered him:\n\u201cNot by my pleading may be stayed\nThe firm resolve thy soul has made.\nMy hero, thou wilt go; and none\nThe stern commands of Fate may shun.\nGo forth, dear child whom naught can bend,\nAnd may all bliss thy steps attend.\nThou wilt return, and that dear day\nWill chase mine every grief away.\nThou wilt return, thy duty done,\nThy vows discharged, high glory won;\nFrom filial debt wilt thou be free,\nAnd sweetest joy will come on me.\nMy son, the will of mighty Fate\nAt every time must dominate,\nIf now it drives thee hence to stray\nHeedless of me who bid thee stay.\nGo, strong of arm, go forth, my boy,\nGo forth, again to come with joy,\nAnd thine expectant mother cheer\nWith those sweet tones she loves to hear.\nO that the blessed hour were nigh\nWhen thou shalt glad this anxious eye,\nWith matted hair and hermit dress\nreturning from the wilderness.\u201d\n  Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s conscious soul approved,\n    As her proud glance she bent\n  On R\u00e1ma constant and unmoved,\n    Resolved on banishment.\n  Such words, with happy omens fraught\n    To her dear son she said,\n  Invoking with each eager thought\n    A blessing on his head.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXV. Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s Blessing.\n\n\nHer grief and woe she cast aside,\nHer lips with water purified,\nAnd thus her benison began\nThat mother of the noblest man:\n\u201cIf thou wilt hear no words of mine,\nGo forth, thou pride of Raghu\u2019s line.\nGo, darling, and return with speed,\nWalking where noble spirits lead.\nMay virtue on thy steps attend,\nAnd be her faithful lover\u2019s friend.\nMay Those to whom thy vows are paid\nIn temple and in holy shade,\nWith all the mighty saints combine\nTo keep that precious life of thine.\nThe arms wise Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra(292) gave\nThy virtuous soul from danger save.\nLong be thy life: thy sure defence\nShall be thy truthful innocence,\nAnd that obedience, naught can tire,\nTo me thy mother and thy sire.\nMay fanes where holy fires are fed,\nAltars with grass and fuel spread,\nEach sacrificial ground, each tree,\nRock, lake, and mountain, prosper thee.\nLet old Vir\u00e1j,(293) and Him who made\nThe universe, combine to aid;\nLet Indra and each guardian Lord\nWho keeps the worlds, their help afford,\nAnd be thy constant friend the Sun,\nLord P\u00fash\u00e1, Bhaga, Aryuman.(294)\nFortnights and seasons, nights and days,\nYears, months, and hours, protect thy ways,\nVrihaspati shall still be nigh,\nThe War-God, and the Moon on high,\nAnd N\u00e1rad(295) and the sainted seven(296)\nShall watch thee from their starry heaven.\nThe mountains, and the seas which ring\nThe world, and Varu\u1e47a the King,\nSky, ether, and the wind, whate\u2019er\nMoves not or moves, for thee shall care.\nEach lunar mansion be benign,\nWith happier light the planets shine;\nAll gods, each light in heaven that glows,\nProtect my child where\u2019er he goes.\nThe twilight hours, the day and night,\nKeep in the wood thy steps aright.\nWatch, minute, instant, as they flee,\nShall all bring happiness to thee.\nCelestials and the Titan brood\nProtect thee in thy solitude,\nAnd haunt the mighty wood to bless\nThe wanderer in his hermit dress.\nFear not, by mightier guardians screened,\nThe giant or night-roving fiend;\nNor let the cruel race who tear\nMan\u2019s flesh for food thy bosom scare.\nFar be the ape, the scorpion\u2019s sting,\nFly, gnat, and worm, and creeping thing.\nThee shall the hungry lion spare,\nThe tiger, elephant, and bear:\nSafe, from their furious might repose,\nSafe from the horned buffaloes.\nEach savage thing the forests breed,\nThat love on human flesh to feed,\nShall for my child its rage abate,\nWhen thus its wrath I deprecate.\nBlest be thy ways: may sweet success\nThe valour of my darling bless.\nTo all that Fortune can bestow,\nGo forth, my child, my R\u00e1ma, go.\nGo forth, O happy in the love\nOf all the Gods below, above;\nAnd in those guardian powers confide\nThy paths who keep, thy steps who guide.\nMay \u015aukra,(297) Y\u00e1ma, Sun, and Moon,\nAnd He who gives each golden boon,(298)\nWon by mine earnest prayers, be good\nTo thee, my son, in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood.\nFire, wind, and smoke, each text and spell\nFrom mouths of holy seers that fell,\nGuard R\u00e1ma when his limbs he dips,\nOr with the stream makes pure his lips!\nMay the great saints and He, the Lord\nWho made the worlds, by worlds adored,\nAnd every God in heaven beside\nMy banished R\u00e1ma keep and guide.\u201d\n\n  Thus with due praise the long-eyed dame,\nEnnobled by her spotless fame,\nWith wreaths of flowers and precious scent\nWorshipped the Gods, most reverent.\nA high-souled Br\u00e1hman lit the fire,\nAnd offered, at the queen\u2019s desire,\nThe holy oil ordained to burn\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s weal and safe return.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 best of dames, with care\nSet oil, wreaths, fuel, mustard, there.\nThen when the rites of fire had ceased,\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s bliss and health, the priest,\nStanding without gave what remained\nIn general offering,(299) as ordained.\nDealing among the twice-horn train\nHoney, and curds, and oil, and grain,\nHe bade each heart and voice unite\nTo bless the youthful anchorite.\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s mother, glorious dame\nBestowed, to meet the Br\u00e1hman\u2019s claim,\nA lordly fee for duty done:\nAnd thus again addressed her son:\n\n  \u201cSuch blessings as the Gods o\u2019erjoyed\nPoured forth, when Vritra(300) was destroyed,\nOn Indra of the thousand eyes,\nAttend, my child, thine enterprise!\nYea, such as Vinat\u00e1 once gave\nTo King Supar\u1e47a(301) swift and brave,\nWho sought the drink that cheers the skies,\nAttend, my child, thine enterprise!\nYea, such as, when the Amrit rose,(302)\nAnd Indra slew his Daitya foes,\nThe royal Aditi bestowed\nOn Him whose hand with slaughter glowed\nOf that dire brood of monstrous size,\nAttend, my child, thine enterprise!\nE\u2019en such as peerless Vish\u1e47u graced,\nWhen with his triple step he paced,\nOutbursting from the dwarf\u2019s disguise,(303)\nAttend, my child, thine enterprise!\nFloods, isles, and seasons as they fly,\nWorlds, Vedas, quarters of the sky,\nCombine, O mighty-armed, to bless\nThee destined heir of happiness!\u201d\n\n  The long-eyed lady ceased: she shed\nPure scent and grain upon his head.\nAnd that prized herb whose sovereign power\nPreserves from dark misfortune\u2019s hour,\nUpon the hero\u2019s arm she set,\nTo be his faithful amulet.\nWhile holy texts she murmured low,\nAnd spoke glad words though crushed by woe,\nConcealing with obedient tongue\nThe pangs with which her heart was wrung.\nShe bent, she kissed his brow, she pressed\nHer darling to her troubled breast:\n\u201cFirm in thy purpose, go,\u201d she cried,\n\u201cGo R\u00e1ma, and may bliss betide.\nAttain returning safe and well,\nTriumphant in Ayodhy\u00e1, dwell.\nThen shall my happy eyes behold\nThe empire by thy will controlled.\nThen grief and care shall leave no trace,\nJoy shall light up thy mother\u2019s face,\nAnd I shall see my darling reign,\nIn moonlike glory come again.\nThese eyes shall fondly gaze on thee\nSo faithful to thy sire\u2019s decree,\nWhen thou the forest wild shalt quit\nOn thine ancestral throne to sit.\nYea, thou shalt turn from exile back,\nNor choicest blessings ever lack,\nThen fill with rapture ever new\nMy bosom and thy consort\u2019s too.\n  To \u015aiva and the heavenly host\n    My worship has been paid,\n  To mighty saint, to godlike ghost,\n    To every wandering shade.\n  Forth to the forest thou wilt hie,\n    Therein to dwell so long:\n  Let all the quarters of the sky\n    Protect my child from wrong.\u201d\n  Her blessings thus the queen bestowed;\n    Then round him fondly paced,\n  And often, while her eyes o\u2019erflowed,\n    Her dearest son embraced.\n  Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s honoured feet he pressed,\n    As round her steps she bent,\n  And radiant with her prayers that blessed,\n    To S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s home he went.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVI. Alone With S\u00edt\u00e1.\n\n\nSo R\u00e1ma, to his purpose true,\nTo Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 bade adieu,\nReceived the benison she gave,\nAnd to the path of duty clave.\nAs through the crowded street he passed,\nA radiance on the way he cast,\nAnd each fair grace, by all approved,\nThe bosoms of the people moved.\n\n  Now of the woeful change no word\nThe fair Videhan bride had heard;\nThe thought of that imperial rite\nStill filled her bosom with delight.\nWith grateful heart and joyful thought\nThe Gods in worship she had sought,\nAnd, well in royal duties learned,\nSat longing till her lord returned,\nNot all unmarked by grief and shame\nWithin his sumptuous home he came,\nAnd hurried through the happy crowd\nWith eye dejected, gloomy-browed.\nUp S\u00edt\u00e1 sprang, and every limb\nTrembled with fear at sight of him.\nShe marked that cheek where anguish fed,\nThose senses care-disquieted.\nFor, when he looked on her, no more\nCould his heart hide the load it bore,\nNor could the pious chief control\nThe paleness o\u2019er his cheek that stole.\nHis altered cheer, his brow bedewed\nWith clammy drops, his grief she viewed,\nAnd cried, consumed with fires of woe,\n\u201cWhat, O my lord, has changed thee so?\nVrihaspati looks down benign,\nAnd the moon rests in Pushya\u2019s sign,\nAs Br\u00e1hmans sage this day declare:\nThen whence, my lord, this grief and care?\nWhy does no canopy, like foam\nFor its white beauty, shade thee home,\nIts hundred ribs spread wide to throw\nSplendour on thy fair head below?\nWhere are the royal fans, to grace\nThe lotus beauty of thy face,\nFair as the moon or wild-swan\u2019s wing,\nAnd waving round the new-made king?\nWhy do no sweet-toned bards rejoice\nTo hail thee with triumphant voice?\nNo tuneful heralds love to raise\nLoud music in their monarch\u2019s praise?\nWhy do no Br\u00e1hmans, Scripture-read,\nPour curds and honey on thy head,\nAnointed, as the laws ordain,\nWith holy rites, supreme to reign?\nWhere are the chiefs of every guild?\nWhere are the myriads should have filled\nThe streets, and followed home their king\nWith merry noise and triumphing?\nWhy does no gold-wrought chariot lead\nWith four brave horses, best for speed?\nNo elephant precede the crowd\nLike a huge hill or thunder cloud,\nMarked from his birth for happy fate,\nWhom signs auspicious decorate?\nWhy does no henchman, young and fair,\nPrecede thee, and delight to bear\nEntrusted to his reverent hold\nThe burthen of thy throne of gold?\nWhy, if the consecrating rite\nBe ready, why this mournful plight?\nWhy do I see this sudden change,\nThis altered mien so sad and strange?\u201d\n\n  To her, as thus she weeping cried,\nRaghu\u2019s illustrious son replied:\n  \u201cS\u00edt\u00e1, my honoured sire\u2019s decree\nCommands me to the woods to flee.\nO high-born lady, nobly bred\nIn the good paths thy footsteps tread,\nHear, Janak\u2019s daughter, while I tell\nThe story as it all befell.\nOf old my father true and brave\nTwo boons to Queen Kaikey\u00ed gave.\nThrough these the preparations made\nFor me to-day by her are stayed,\nFor he is bound to disallow\nThis promise by that earlier vow.\nIn Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest wild and vast\nMust fourteen years by me be passed.\nMy father\u2019s will makes Bharat heir,\nThe kingdom and the throne to share.\nNow, ere the lonely wild I seek,\nI come once more with thee to speak.\nIn Bharat\u2019s presence, O my dame,\nNe\u2019er speak with pride of R\u00e1ma\u2019s name:\nAnother\u2019s eulogy to hear\nIs hateful to a monarch\u2019s ear.\nThou must with love his rule obey\nTo whom my father yields the sway.\nWith love and sweet observance learn\nHis grace, and more the king\u2019s, to earn.\nNow, that my father may not break\nThe words of promise that he spake,\nTo the drear wood my steps are bent:\nBe firm, good S\u00edt\u00e1, and content.\nThrough all that time, my blameless spouse,\nKeep well thy fasts and holy vows.\nRise from thy bed at break of day,\nAnd to the Gods due worship pay.\nWith meek and lowly love revere\nThe lord of men, my father dear,\nAnd reverence to Kau\u015baly\u00e1 show,\nMy mother, worn with eld and woe:\nBy duty\u2019s law, O best of dames,\nHigh worship from thy love she claims,\nNor to the other queens refuse\nObservance, rendering each her dues:\nBy love and fond attention shown\nThey are my mothers like mine own.\nLet Bharat and \u015aatrughna bear\nIn thy sweet love a special share:\nDear as my life, O let them be\nLike brother and like son to thee.\nIn every word and deed refrain\nFrom aught that Bharat\u2019s soul may pain:\nHe is Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s king and mine,\nThe head and lord of all our line.\nFor those who serve and love them much\nWith weariless endeavour, touch\nAnd win the gracious hearts of kings.\nWhile wrath from disobedience springs.\nGreat monarchs from their presence send\nTheir lawful sons who still offend,\nAnd welcome to the vacant place\nGood children of an alien race.\nThen, best of women, rest thou here,\nAnd Bharat\u2019s will with love revere.\nObedient to thy king remain,\nAnd still thy vows of truth maintain.\n  To the wide wood my steps I bend:\n    Make thou thy dwelling here;\n  See that thy conduct ne\u2019er offend,\n    And keep my words, my dear.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nHis sweetly-speaking bride, who best\nDeserved her lord, he thus addressed.\nThen tender love bade passion wake,\nAnd thus the fair Videhan spake:\n\u201cWhat words are these that thou hast said?\nContempt of me the thought has bred.\nO best of heroes, I dismiss\nWith bitter scorn a speech like this:\nUnworthy of a warrior\u2019s fame\nIt taints a monarch\u2019s son with shame,\nNe\u2019er to be heard from those who know\nThe science of the sword and bow.\nMy lord, the mother, sire, and son\nReceive their lots by merit won;\nThe brother and the daughter find\nThe portions to their deeds assigned.\nThe wife alone, whate\u2019er await,\nMust share on earth her husband\u2019s fate.\nSo now the king\u2019s command which sends\nThee to the wild, to me extends.\nThe wife can find no refuge, none,\nIn father, mother, self, or son:\nBoth here, and when they vanish hence,\nHer husband is her sole defence.\nIf, Raghu\u2019s son, thy steps are led\nWhere Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s pathless wilds are spread,\nMy foot before thine own shall pass\nThrough tangled thorn and matted grass.\nDismiss thine anger and thy doubt:\nLike refuse water cast them out,\nAnd lead me, O my hero, hence\u2014\nI know not sin\u2014with confidence.\nWhate\u2019er his lot, \u2019tis far more sweet\nTo follow still a husband\u2019s feet\nThan in rich palaces to lie,\nOr roam at pleasure through the sky.\nMy mother and my sire have taught\nWhat duty bids, and trained each thought,\nNor have I now mine ear to turn\nThe duties of a wife to learn.\nI\u2019ll seek with thee the woodland dell\nAnd pathless wild where no men dwell,\nWhere tribes of silvan creatures roam,\nAnd many a tiger makes his home.\nMy life shall pass as pleasant there\nAs in my father\u2019s palace fair.\nThe worlds shall wake no care in me;\nMy only care be truth to thee.\nThere while thy wish I still obey,\nTrue to my vows with thee I\u2019ll stray,\nAnd there shall blissful hours be spent\nIn woods with honey redolent.\nIn forest shades thy mighty arm\nWould keep a stranger\u2019s life from harm,\nAnd how shall S\u00edt\u00e1 think of fear\nWhen thou, O glorious lord, art near?\nHeir of high bliss, my choice is made,\nNor can I from my will be stayed.\nDoubt not; the earth will yield me roots,\nThese will I eat, and woodland fruits;\nAnd as with thee I wander there\nI will not bring thee grief or care.\nI long, when thou, wise lord, art nigh,\nAll fearless, with delighted eye\nTo gaze upon the rocky hill,\nThe lake, the fountain, and the rill;\nTo sport with thee, my limbs to cool,\nIn some pure lily-covered pool,\nWhile the white swan\u2019s and mallard\u2019s wings\nAre plashing in the water-springs.\nSo would a thousand seasons flee\nLike one sweet day, if spent with thee.\nWithout my lord I would not prize\nA home with Gods above the skies:\nWithout my lord, my life to bless,\nWhere could be heaven or happiness?\n  Forbid me not: with thee I go\n    The tangled wood to tread.\n  There will I live with thee, as though\n    This roof were o\u2019er my head.\n  My will for thine shall be resigned;\n    Thy feet my steps shall guide.\n  Thou, only thou, art in my mind:\n    I heed not all beside.\n  Thy heart shall ne\u2019er by me be grieved;\n    Do not my prayer deny:\n  Take me, dear lord; of thee bereaved\n    Thy S\u00edt\u00e1 swears to die.\u201d\n  These words the duteous lady spake,\n    Nor would he yet consent\n  His faithful wife with him to take\n    To share his banishment.\n  He soothed her with his gentle speech;\n    To change her will he strove;\n  And much he said the woes to teach\n    Of those in wilds who rove.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVIII. The Dangers Of The Wood.\n\n\nThus S\u00edt\u00e1 spake, and he who knew\nHis duty, to its orders true,\nWas still reluctant as the woes\nOf forest life before him rose.\nHe sought to soothe her grief, to dry\nThe torrent from each brimming eye,\nAnd then, her firm resolve to shake,\nThese words the pious hero spake:\n\n  \u201cO daughter of a noble line,\nWhose steps from virtue ne\u2019er decline,\nRemain, thy duties here pursue,\nAs my fond heart would have thee do.\nNow hear me, S\u00edt\u00e1, fair and weak,\nAnd do the words that I shall speak.\nAttend and hear while I explain\nEach danger in the wood, each pain.\nThy lips have spoken: I condemn\nThe foolish words that fell from them.\nThis senseless plan, this wish of thine\nTo live a forest life, resign.\nThe names of trouble and distress\nSuit well the tangled wilderness.\nIn the wild wood no joy I know,\nA forest life is nought but woe.\nThe lion in his mountain cave\nAnswers the torrents as they rave,\nAnd forth his voice of terror throws:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nThere mighty monsters fearless play,\nAnd in their maddened onset slay\nThe hapless wretch who near them goes:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\n\u2019Tis hard to ford each treacherous flood,\nSo thick with crocodiles and mud,\nWhere the wild elephants repose:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nOr far from streams the wanderer strays\nThrough thorns and creeper-tangled ways,\nWhile round him many a wild-cock crows:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nOn the cold ground upon a heap\nOf gathered leaves condemned to sleep,\nToil-wearied, will his eyelids close:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nLong days and nights must he content\nHis soul with scanty aliment,\nWhat fruit the wind from branches blows:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nO S\u00edt\u00e1, while his strength may last,\nThe ascetic in the wood must fast,\nCoil on his head his matted hair,\nAnd bark must be his only wear.\nTo Gods and spirits day by day\nThe ordered worship he must pay,\nAnd honour with respectful care\nEach wandering guest who meets him there.\nThe bathing rites he ne\u2019er must shun\nAt dawn, at noon, at set of sun,\nObedient to the law he knows:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nTo grace the altar must be brought\nThe gift of flowers his hands have sought\u2014\nThe debt each pious hermit owes:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nThe devotee must be content\nTo live, severely abstinent,\nOn what the chance of fortune shows:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nHunger afflicts him evermore:\nThe nights are black, the wild winds roar;\nAnd there are dangers worse than those:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nThere creeping things in every form\nInfest the earth, the serpents swarm,\nAnd each proud eye with fury glows:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nThe snakes that by the rives hide\nIn sinuous course like rivers glide,\nAnd line the path with deadly foes:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nScorpions, and grasshoppers, and flies\nDisturb the wanderer as he lies,\nAnd wake him from his troubled doze:\nThe wood, my love, is full of woes.\nTrees, thorny bushes, intertwined,\nTheir branched ends together bind,\nAnd dense with grass the thicket grows:\nThe wood, my dear, is full of woes,\nWith many ills the flesh is tried,\nWhen these and countless fears beside\nVex those who in the wood remain:\nThe wilds are naught but grief and pain.\nHope, anger must be cast aside,\nTo penance every thought applied:\nNo fear must be of things to fear:\nHence is the wood for ever drear.\nEnough, my love: thy purpose quit:\nFor forest life thou art not fit.\nAs thus I think on all, I see\nThe wild wood is no place for thee.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIX. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Appeal.\n\n\nThus R\u00e1ma spake. Her lord\u2019s address\nThe lady heard with deep distress,\nAnd, as the tear bedimmed her eye,\nIn soft low accents made reply:\n\u201cThe perils of the wood, and all\nThe woes thou countest to appal,\nLed by my love I deem not pain;\nEach woe a charm, each loss a gain.\nTiger, and elephant, and deer,\nBull, lion, buffalo, in fear,\nSoon as thy matchless form they see,\nWith every silvan beast will flee.\nWith thee, O R\u00e1ma, I must go:\nMy sire\u2019s command ordains it so.\nBereft of thee, my lonely heart\nMust break, and life and I must part.\nWhile thou, O mighty lord, art nigh,\nNot even He who rules the sky,\nThough He is strongest of the strong,\nWith all his might can do me wrong.\nNor can a lonely woman left\nBy her dear husband live bereft.\nIn my great love, my lord, I ween,\nThe truth of this thou mayst have seen.\nIn my sire\u2019s palace long ago\nI heard the chief of those who know,\nThe truth-declaring Br\u00e1hmans, tell\nMy fortune, in the wood to dwell.\nI heard their promise who divine\nThe future by each mark and sign,\nAnd from that hour have longed to lead\nThe forest life their lips decreed.\nNow, mighty R\u00e1ma, I must share\nThy father\u2019s doom which sends thee there;\nIn this I will not be denied,\nBut follow, love, where thou shalt guide.\nO husband, I will go with thee,\nObedient to that high decree.\nNow let the Br\u00e1hmans\u2019 words be true,\nFor this the time they had in view.\nI know full well the wood has woes;\nBut they disturb the lives of those\nWho in the forest dwell, nor hold\nTheir rebel senses well controlled.\nIn my sire\u2019s halls, ere I was wed,\nI heard a dame who begged her bread\nBefore my mother\u2019s face relate\nWhat griefs a forest life await.\nAnd many a time in sport I prayed\nTo seek with thee the greenwood shade,\nFor O, my heart on this is set,\nTo follow thee, dear anchoret.\nMay blessings on thy life attend:\nI long with thee my steps to bend,\nFor with such hero as thou art\nThis pilgrimage enchants my heart.\nStill close, my lord, to thy dear side\nMy spirit will be purified:\nLove from all sin my soul will free:\nMy husband is a God to me.\nSo, love, with thee shall I have bliss\nAnd share the life that follows this.\nI heard a Br\u00e1hman, dear to fame,\nThis ancient Scripture text proclaim:\n\u201cThe woman whom on earth below\nHer parents on a man bestow,\nAnd lawfully their hands unite\nWith water and each holy rite,\nShe in this world shall be his wife,\nHis also in the after life.\u201d\nThen tell me, O beloved, why\nThou wilt this earnest prayer deny,\nNor take me with thee to the wood,\nThine own dear wife so true and good.\nBut if thou wilt not take me there\nThus grieving in my wild despair,\nTo fire or water I will fly,\nOr to the poisoned draught, and die.\u201d\n\n  So thus to share his exile, she\nBesought him with each earnest plea,\nNor could she yet her lord persuade\nTo take her to the lonely shade.\nThe answer of the strong-armed chief\nSmote the Videhan\u2019s soul with grief,\nAnd from her eyes the torrents came\nbathing the bosom of the dame.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXX. The Triumph Of Love.\n\n\nThe daughter of Videha\u2019s king,\nWhile R\u00e1ma strove to soothe the sting\nOf her deep anguish, thus began\nOnce more in furtherance of her plan:\nAnd with her spirit sorely tried\nBy fear and anger, love and pride,\nWith keenly taunting words addressed\nHer hero of the stately breast:\n\u201cWhy did the king my sire, who reigns\nO\u2019er fair Videha\u2019s wide domains,\nHail R\u00e1ma son with joy unwise,\nA woman in a man\u2019s disguise?\nNow falsely would the people say,\nBy idle fancies led astray,\nThat R\u00e1ma\u2019s own are power and might,\nAs glorious as the Lord of Light.\nWhy sinkest thou in such dismay?\nWhat fears upon thy spirit weigh,\nThat thou, O R\u00e1ma, fain wouldst flee\nFrom her who thinks of naught but thee?\nTo thy dear will am I resigned\nIn heart and body, soul and mind,\nAs S\u00e1vitr\u00ed gave all to one,\nSatyav\u00e1n, Dyumatsena\u2019s son.(304)\nNot e\u2019en in fancy can I brook\nTo any guard save thee to look:\nLet meaner wives their houses shame,\nTo go with thee is all my claim.\nLike some low actor, deemst thou fit\nThy wife to others to commit\u2014\nThine own, espoused in maiden youth,\nThy wife so long, unblamed for truth?\nDo thou, my lord, his will obey\nFor whom thou losest royal sway,\nTo whom thou wouldst thy wife confide\u2014\nNot me, but thee, his wish may guide.\nThou must not here thy wife forsake,\nAnd to the wood thy journey make,\nWhether stern penance, grief, and care,\nOr rule or heaven await thee there.\nNor shall fatigue my limbs distress\nWhen wandering in the wilderness:\nEach path which near to thee I tread\nShall seem a soft luxurious bed.\nThe reeds, the bushes where I pass,\nThe thorny trees, the tangled grass\nShall feel, if only thou be near,\nSoft to my touch as skins of deer.\nWhen the rude wind in fury blows,\nAnd scattered dust upon me throws,\nThat dust, beloved lord, to me\nShall as the precious sandal be.\nAnd what shall be more blest than I,\nWhen gazing on the wood I lie\nIn some green glade upon a bed\nWith sacred grass beneath us spread?\nThe root, the leaf, the fruit which thou\nShalt give me from the earth or bough,\nScanty or plentiful, to eat,\nShall taste to me as Amrit sweet.\nAs there I live on flowers and roots\nAnd every season\u2019s kindly fruits,\nI will not for my mother grieve,\nMy sire, my home, or all I leave.\nMy presence, love, shall never add\nOne pain to make the heart more sad;\nI will not cause thee grief or care,\nNor be a burden hard to bear.\nWith thee is heaven, where\u2019er the spot;\nEach place is hell where thou art not.\nThen go with me, O R\u00e1ma; this\nIs all my hope and all my bliss.\nIf thou wilt leave thy wife who still\nEntreats thee with undaunted will,\nThis very day shall poison close\nThe life that spurns the rule of foes.\nHow, after, can my soul sustain\nThe bitter life of endless pain,\nWhen thy dear face, my lord, I miss?\nNo, death is better far than this.\nNot for an hour could I endure\nThe deadly grief that knows not cure,\nFar less a woe I could not shun\nFor ten long years, and three, and one.\u201d\n\n  While fires of woe consumed her, such\nHer sad appeal, lamenting much;\nThen with a wild cry, anguish-wrung,\nAbout her husband\u2019s neck she clung.\nLike some she-elephant who bleeds\nStruck by the hunter\u2019s venomed reeds,\nSo in her quivering heart she felt\nThe many wounds his speeches dealt.\nThen, as the spark from wood is gained,(305)\nDown rolled the tear so long restrained:\nThe crystal moisture, sprung from woe,\nFrom her sweet eyes began to flow,\nAs runs the water from a pair\nOf lotuses divinely fair.\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s face with long dark eyes,\nPure as the moon of autumn skies,\nFaded with weeping, as the buds\nOf lotuses when sink the floods.\nAround his wife his arms he strained,\nWho senseless from her woe remained,\nAnd with sweet words, that bade her wake\nTo life again, the hero spake:\n\u201cI would not with thy woe, my Queen,\nBuy heaven and all its blissful sheen.\nVoid of all fear am I as He,\nThe self-existent God, can be.\nI knew not all thy heart till now,\nDear lady of the lovely brow,\nSo wished not thee in woods to dwell;\nYet there mine arm can guard thee well.\nNow surely thou, dear love, wast made\nTo dwell with me in green wood shade.\nAnd, as a high saint\u2019s tender mind\nClings to its love for all mankind,\nSo I to thee will ever cling,\nSweet daughter of Videha\u2019s king.\nThe good, of old, O soft of frame,\nHonoured this duty\u2019s sovereign claim,\nAnd I its guidance will not shun,\nTrue as light\u2019s Queen is to the Sun.\nI cannot, pride of Janak\u2019s line,\nThis journey to the wood decline:\nMy sire\u2019s behest, the oath he sware,\nThe claims of truth, all lead me there.\nOne duty, dear the same for aye,\nIs sire and mother to obey:\nShould I their orders once transgress\nMy very life were weariness.\nIf glad obedience be denied\nTo father, mother, holy guide,\nWhat rites, what service can be done\nThat stern Fate\u2019s favour may be won?\nThese three the triple world comprise,\nO darling of the lovely eyes.\nEarth has no holy thing like these\nWhom with all love men seek to please.\nNot truth, or gift, or bended knee,\nNot honour, worship, lordly fee,\nStorms heaven and wins a blessing thence\nLike sonly love and reverence.\nHeaven, riches, grain, and varied lore,\nWith sons and many a blessing more,\nAll these are made their own with ease\nBy those their elders\u2019 souls who please.\nThe mighty-souled, who ne\u2019er forget,\nDevoted sons, their filial debt,\nWin worlds where Gods and minstrels are,\nAnd Brahm\u00e1\u2019s sphere more glorious far.\nNow as the orders of my sire,\nWho keeps the way of truth, require,\nSo will I do, for such the way\nOf duty that endures for aye:\nTo take thee, love, to Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s wild\nMy heart at length is reconciled,\nFor thee such earnest thoughts impel\nTo follow, and with me to dwell.\nO faultless form from feet to brows,\nCome with me, as my will allows,\nAnd duty there with me pursue,\nTrembler, whose bright eyes thrill me through.\nIn all thy days, come good come ill,\nPreserve unchanged such noble will,\nAnd thou, dear love, wilt ever be\nThe glory of thy house and me.\nNow, beauteous-armed, begin the tasks\nThe woodland life of hermits asks.\nFor me the joys of heaven above\nHave charms no more without thee, love.\nAnd now, dear S\u00edt\u00e1, be not slow:\nFood on good mendicants bestow,\nAnd for the holy Br\u00e1hmans bring\nThy treasures and each precious thing.\nThy best attire and gems collect,\nThe jewels which thy beauty decked,\nAnd every ornament and toy\nPrepared for hours of sport and joy:\nThe beds, the cars wherein I ride,\nAmong our followers, next, divide.\u201d\n\n  She conscious that her lord approved\nHer going, with great rapture moved,\nHastened within, without delay,\nPrepared to give their wealth away.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXI. Lakshman\u2019s Prayer.\n\n\nWhen Lakshma\u1e47, who had joined them there,\nHad heard the converse of the pair,\nHis mien was changed, his eyes o\u2019erflowed,\nHis breast no more could bear its load.\nThe son of Raghu, sore distressed,\nHis brother\u2019s feet with fervour pressed,\nWhile thus to S\u00edt\u00e1 he complained,\nAnd him by lofty vows enchained:\n\u201cIf thou wilt make the woods thy home,\nWhere elephant and roebuck roam,\nI too this day will take my bow\nAnd in the path before thee go.\nOur way will lie through forest ground\nWhere countless birds and beasts are found,\nI heed not homes of Gods on high,\nI heed not life that cannot die,\nNor would I wish, with thee away,\nO\u2019er the three worlds to stretch my sway.\u201d\n\n  Thus Lakshma\u1e47 spake, with earnest prayer\nHis brother\u2019s woodland life to share.\nAs R\u00e1ma still his prayer denied\nWith soothing words, again he cried:\n\u201cWhen leave at first thou didst accord,\nWhy dost thou stay me now, my lord?\nThou art my refuge: O, be kind,\nLeave me not, dear my lord, behind.\nThou canst not, brother, if thou choose\nThat I still live, my wish refuse.\u201d\n\n  The glorious chief his speech renewed\nTo faithful Lakshma\u1e47 as he sued,\nAnd on the eyes of R\u00e1ma gazed\nLonging to lead, with hands upraised:\n\u201cThou art a hero just and dear,\nWhose steps to virtue\u2019s path adhere,\nLoved as my life till life shall end,\nMy faithful brother and my friend.\nIf to the woods thou take thy way\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 and with me to-day,\nWho for Kau\u015baly\u00e1 will provide,\nAnd guard the good Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s side?\nThe lord of earth, of mighty power,\nWho sends good things in plenteous shower,\nAs Indra pours the grateful rain,\nA captive lies in passion\u2019s chain.\nThe power imperial for her son\nHas A\u015bvapati\u2019s daughter(306) won,\nAnd she, proud queen, will little heed\nHer miserable rivals\u2019 need.\nSo Bharat, ruler of the land,\nBy Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s side will stand,\nNor of those two will ever think,\nWhile grieving in despair they sink.\nNow, Lakshma\u1e47, as thy love decrees,\nOr else the monarch\u2019s heart to please,\nFollow this counsel and protect\nMy honoured mother from neglect.\nSo thou, while not to me alone\nThy great affection will be shown,\nTo highest duty wilt adhere\nBy serving those thou shouldst revere.\nNow, son of Raghu, for my sake\nObey this one request I make,\nOr, of her darling son bereft,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 has no comfort left.\u201d\n\n  The faithful Lakshma\u1e47, thus addressed\nIn gentle words which love expressed,\nTo him in lore of language learned,\nHis answer, eloquent, returned:\n\n  \u201cNay, through thy might each queen will share\nAttentive Bharat\u2019s love and care,\nShould Bharat, raised as king to sway\nThis noblest realm, his trust betray,\nNor for their safety well provide,\nSeduced by ill-suggesting pride,\nDoubt not my vengeful hand shall kill\nThe cruel wretch who counsels ill\u2014\nKill him and all who lend him aid,\nAnd the three worlds in league arrayed.\nAnd good Kau\u015baly\u00e1 well can fee\nA thousand champions like to me.\nA thousand hamlets rich in grain\nThe station of that queen maintain.\nShe may, and my dear mother too,\nLive on the ample revenue.\nThen let me follow thee: herein:\nIs naught that may resemble sin.\nSo shall I in my wish succeed,\nAnd aid, perhaps, my brother\u2019s need.\nMy bow and quiver well supplied\nWith arrows hanging at my side,\nMy hands shall spade and basket bear,\nAnd for thy feet the way prepare.\nI\u2019ll bring thee roots and berries sweet.\nAnd woodland fare which hermits eat.\nThou shall with thy Videhan spouse\nRecline upon the mountain\u2019s brows;\nBe mine the toil, be mine to keep\nWatch o\u2019er thee waking or asleep.\u201d\n\n  Filled by his speech with joy and pride,\nR\u00e1ma to Lakshma\u1e47 thus replied:\n\u201cGo then, my brother, bid adieu\nTo all thy friends and retinue.\nAnd those two bows of fearful might,\nCelestial, which, at that famed rite,\nLord Varu\u1e47 gave to Janak, king\nOf fair Vedeha with thee bring,\nWith heavenly coats of sword-proof mail,\nQuivers, whose arrows never fail,\nAnd golden-hilted swords so keen,\nThe rivals of the sun in sheen.\nTended with care these arms are all\nPreserved in my preceptor\u2019s hall.\nWith speed, O Lakshma\u1e47, go, produce,\nAnd bring them hither for our use.\u201d\nSo on a woodland life intent,\nTo see his faithful friends he went,\nAnd brought the heavenly arms which lay\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s teacher stored away.\nAnd Raghu\u2019s son to R\u00e1ma showed\nThose wondrous arms which gleamed and glowed,\nWell kept, adorned with many a wreath\nOf flowers on case, and hilt, and sheath.\nThe prudent R\u00e1ma at the sight\nAddressed his brother with delight:\n\u201cWell art thou come, my brother dear,\nFor much I longed to see thee here.\nFor with thine aid, before I go,\nI would my gold and wealth bestow\nUpon the Br\u00e1hmans sage, who school\nTheir lives by stern devotion\u2019s rule.\nAnd for all those who ever dwell\nWithin my house and serve me well,\nDevoted servants, true and good,\nWill I provide a livelihood.\n  Quick, go and summon to this place\n    The good Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s son,\n  Suyaj\u01f9a, of the Br\u00e1hman race\n    The first and holiest one.\n  To all the Br\u00e1hmans wise and good\n    Will I due reverence pay,\n  Then to the solitary wood\n    With thee will take my way.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXII. The Gift Of The Treasures.\n\n\nThat speech so noble which conveyed\nHis friendly wish, the chief obeyed,\nWith steps made swift by anxious thought\nThe wise Suyaj\u01f9a\u2019s home he sought.\nHim in the hall of Fire(307) he found,\nAnd bent before him to the ground:\n\u201cO friend, to R\u00e1ma\u2019s house return,\nWho now performs a task most stern.\u201d\nHe, when his noonday rites were done,\nWent forth with fair Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son,\nAnd came to R\u00e1ma\u2019s bright abode\nRich in the love which Lakshm\u00ed showed.\nThe son of Raghu, with his dame,\nWith joined hands met him as he came,\nShowing to him who Scripture knew\nThe worship that is Agni\u2019s due.\nWith armlets, bracelets, collars, rings,\nWith costly pearls on golden strings,\nWith many a gem for neck and limb\nThe son of Raghu honoured him.\nThen R\u00e1ma, at his wife\u2019s request,\nThe wise Suyaj\u01f9a thus addressed:\n\u201cAccept a necklace too to deck\nWith golden strings thy spouse\u2019s neck.\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 here, my friend, were glad\nA girdle to her gift to add.\nAnd many a bracelet wrought with care,\nAnd many an armlet rich and rare,\nMy wife to thine is fain to give,\nDeparting in the wood to live.\nA bed by skilful workmen made,\nWith gold and various gems inlaid\u2014\nThis too, before she goes, would she\nPresent, O saintly friend, to thee.\nThine be my elephant, so famed,\nMy uncle\u2019s present, Victor named;\nAnd let a thousand coins of gold,\nGreat Br\u00e1hman, with the gift be told.\u201d\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke: nor he declined\nThe noble gifts for him designed.\nOn R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, S\u00edt\u00e1 he\nInvoked all high felicity.\n\n  In pleasant words then R\u00e1ma gave\nHis best to Lakshma\u1e47 prompt and brave,\nAs Brahm\u00e1 speaks for Him to hear\nWho rules the Gods\u2019 celestial sphere:\n\u201cTo the two best of Br\u00e1hmans run;\nAgastya bring, and Ku\u015bik\u2019s son,\nAnd precious gifts upon them rain,\nLike fostering floods upon the grain.\nO long-armed Prince of Raghu\u2019s line,\nDelight them with a thousand kine,\nAnd many a fair and costly gem,\nWith gold and silver, give to them.\nTo him, so deep in Scripture, who,\nTo Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1, ever true,\nServes her with blessing and respect,\nChief of the Taittir\u00edya sect(308)\u2014\nTo him, with women-slaves, present\nA chariot rich with ornament,\nAnd costly robes of silk beside,\nUntil the sage be satisfied.\nOn Chitraratha, true and dear,\nMy tuneful bard and charioteer,\nGems, robes, and plenteous wealth confer\u2014\nMine ancient friend and minister.\nAnd these who go with staff in hand,\nGrammarians trained, a numerous band,\nWho their deep study only prize,\nNor think of other exercise,\nWho toil not, loving dainty fare,\nWhose praises e\u2019en the good declare\u2014\nOn these be eighty cars bestowed,\nAnd each with precious treasures load.\nA thousand bulls for them suffice,\nTwo hundred elephants of price,\nAnd let a thousand kine beside\nThe dainties of each meal provide.\nThe throng who sacred girdles wear,\nAnd on Kau\u015baly\u00e1 wait with care\u2014\nA thousand golden coins shall please,\nSon of Sumitr\u00e1, each of these.\nLet all, dear Lakshma\u1e47 of the train\nThese special gifts of honour gain:\nMy mother will rejoice to know\nHer Br\u00e1hmans have been cherished so.\u201d\n\n  Then Raghu\u2019s son addressed the crowd\nWho round him stood and wept aloud,\nWhen he to all who thronged the court\nHad dealt his wealth for their support:\n\u201cIn Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s house and mine remain,\nAnd guard them till I come again.\u201d\nTo all his people sad with grief,\nIn loving words thus spoke their chief,\nThen bade his treasure-keeper bring\nGold, silver, and each precious thing.\nThen straight the servants went and bore\nBack to their chief the wealth in store.\nBefore the people\u2019s eyes it shone,\nA glorious pile to look upon.\nThe prince of men with Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s aid\nParted the treasures there displayed,\nGave to the poor, the young, the old,\nAnd twice-born men, the gems and gold.\n\n  A Br\u00e1hman, long in evil case,\nNamed Trija\u1e6d, born of Garga\u2019s race,\nEarned ever toiling in a wood\nWith spade and plough his livelihood.\nThe youthful wife, his babes who bore,\nTheir indigence felt more and more.\nThus to the aged man she spake:\n\u201cHear this my word: my counsel take.\nCome, throw thy spade and plough away;\nTo virtuous R\u00e1ma go to-day,\nAnd somewhat of his kindness pray.\u201d\n\n  He heard the words she spoke: around\nHis limbs his ragged cloth he wound,\nAnd took his journey by the road\nThat led to R\u00e1ma\u2019s fair abode.\nTo the fifth court he made his way;\nNor met the Br\u00e1hman check or stay.\nBrighu, Angiras(309) could not be\nBrighter with saintly light than he.\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s presence on he pressed,\nAnd thus the noble chief addressed:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, poor and weak am I,\nAnd many children round me cry.\nScant living in the woods I earn:\nOn me thine eye of pity turn.\u201d\nAnd R\u00e1ma, bent on sport and jest,\nThe suppliant Br\u00e1hman thus addressed:\n\u201cO aged man, one thousand kine,\nYet undistributed, are mine.\nThe cows on thee will I bestow\nAs far as thou thy staff canst throw.\u201d\n\n  The Br\u00e1hman heard. In eager haste\nHe bound his cloth around his waist.\nThen round his head his staff he whirled,\nAnd forth with mightiest effort hurled.\nCast from his hand it flew, and sank\nTo earth on Sarj\u00fa\u2019s farther bank,\nWhere herds of kine in thousands fed\nNear to the well-stocked bullock shed.\nAnd all the cows that wandered o\u2019er\nThe meadow, far as Sarj\u00fa\u2019s shore,\nAt R\u00e1ma\u2019s word the herdsmen drove\nTo Trija\u1e6d\u2019s cottage in the grove.\nHe drew the Br\u00e1hman to his breast,\nAnd thus with calming words addressed:\n\u201cNow be not angry, Sire. I pray:\nThis jest of mine was meant in play.\nThese thousand kine, but not alone.\nTheir herdsmen too, are all thine own.\nAnd wealth beside I give thee: speak,\nThine shall be all thy heart can seek.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spake. And Trija\u1e6d prayed\nFor means his sacrifice to aid.\nAnd R\u00e1ma gave much wealth, required\nTo speed his offering as desired.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIII. The People\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nThus S\u00edt\u00e1 and the princes brave\nMuch wealth to all the Br\u00e1hmans gave.\nThen to the monarch\u2019s house the three\nWent forth the aged king to see.\nThe princes from two servants took\nThose heavenly arms of glorious look,\nAdorned with garland and with band\nBy S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s beautifying hand.\nOn each high house a mournful throng\nHad gathered ere they passed along,\nWho gazed in pure unselfish woe\nFrom turret, roof, and portico.\nSo dense the crowd that blocked the ways,\nThe rest, unable there to gaze,\nWere fain each terrace to ascend,\nAnd thence their eyes on R\u00e1ma bend.\nThen as the gathered multitude\nOn foot their well-loved R\u00e1ma viewed,\nNo royal shade to screen his head,\nSuch words, disturbed in grief, they said:\n\u201cO look, our hero, wont to ride\nLeading a host in perfect pride\u2014\nNow Lakshma\u1e47, sole of all his friends,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 on his steps attends.\nThough he has known the sweets of power,\nAnd poured his gifts in liberal shower,\nFrom duty\u2019s path he will not swerve,\nBut, still his father\u2019s truth preserve.\nAnd she whose form so soft and fair\nWas veiled from spirits of the air,\nNow walks unsheltered from the day,\nSeen by the crowds who throng the way.\nAh, for that gently-nurtured form!\nHow will it fade with sun and storm!\nHow will the rain, the cold, the heat\nMar fragrant breast and tinted feet!\nSurely some demon has possessed\nHis sire, and speaks within his breast,\nOr how could one that is a king\nThus send his dear son wandering?\nIt were a deed unkindly done\nTo banish e\u2019en a worthless son:\nBut what, when his pure life has gained\nThe hearts of all, by love enchained?\nSix sovereign virtues join to grace\nR\u00e1ma the foremost of his race:\nTender and kind and pure is he,\nDocile, religious, passion-free.\nHence misery strikes not him alone:\nIn bitterest grief the people moan,\nLike creatures of the stream, when dry\nIn the great heat the channels lie.\nThe world is mournful with the grief\nThat falls on its beloved chief,\nAs, when the root is hewn away,\nTree, fruit, and flower, and bud decay.\nThe soul of duty, bright to see,\nHe is the root of you and me;\nAnd all of us, who share his grief,\nHis branches, blossom, fruit, and leaf.\nNow like the faithful Lakshma\u1e47, we\nWill follow and be true as he;\nOur wives and kinsmen call with speed,\nAnd hasten where our lord shall lead.\nYes, we will leave each well-loved spot,\nThe field, the garden, and the cot,\nAnd, sharers of his weal and woe,\nBehind the pious R\u00e1ma go.\nOur houses, empty of their stores,\nWith ruined courts and broken doors,\nWith all their treasures borne away.\nAnd gear that made them bright and gay:\nO\u2019errun by rats, with dust o\u2019erspread,\nShrines, whence the deities have fled,\nWhere not a hand the water pours,\nOr sweeps the long-neglected floors,\nNo incense loads the evening air,\nNo Br\u00e1hmans chant the text and prayer,\nNo fire of sacrifice is bright,\nNo gift is known, no sacred rite;\nWith floors which broken vessels strew,\nAs if our woes had crushed them too\u2014\nOf these be stern Kaikey\u00ed queen,\nAnd rule o\u2019er homes where we have been.\nThe wood where R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet may roam\nShall be our city and our home,\nAnd this fair city we forsake,\nOur flight a wilderness shall make.\nEach serpent from his hole shall hie,\nThe birds and beasts from mountain fly,\nLions and elephants in fear\nShall quit the woods when we come near,\nYield the broad wilds for us to range,\nAnd take our city in exchange.\nWith R\u00e1ma will we hence, content\nIf, where he is, our days be spent.\u201d\n\n  Such were the varied words the crowd\nOf all conditions spoke aloud.\nAnd R\u00e1ma heard their speeches, yet\nChanged not his purpose firmly set.\nHis father\u2019s palace soon he neared,\nThat like Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s hill appeared.\nLike a wild elephant he strode\nRight onward to the bright abode.\nWithin the palace court he stepped,\nWhere ordered bands their station kept,\nAnd saw Sumantra standing near\nWith down-cast eye and gloomy cheer.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIV. R\u00e1ma In The Palace.\n\n\nThe dark incomparable chief\nWhose eye was like a lotus leaf,\nCried to the mournful charioteer,\n\u201cGo tell my sire that I am here.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra, sad and all dismayed,\nThe chieftain\u2019s order swift obeyed.\nWithin the palace doors he hied\nAnd saw the king, who wept and sighed.\nLike the great sun when wrapped in shade\nLike fire by ashes overlaid,\nOr like a pool with waters dried,\nSo lay the world\u2019s great lord and pride,\nA while the wise Sumantra gazed\nOn him whose senses woe has dazed,\nGrieving for R\u00e1ma. Near he drew\nWith hands upraised in reverence due.\nWith blessing first his king he hailed;\nThen with a voice that well-nigh failed,\nIn trembling accents soft and low\nAddressed the monarch in his woe:\n\u201cThe prince of men, thy R\u00e1ma, waits\nBefore thee at the palace gates.\nHis wealth to Br\u00e1hmans he has dealt,\nAnd all who in his home have dwelt.\nAdmit thy son. His friends have heard\nHis kind farewell and parting word,\nHe longs to see thee first, and then\nWill seek the wilds, O King of men.\nHe, with each princely virtue\u2019s blaze,\nShines as the sun engirt by rays.\u201d\n\n  The truthful King who loved to keep\nThe law profound as Ocean\u2019s deep,\nAnd stainless as the dark blue sky,\nThus to Sumantra made reply:\n\u201cGo then, Sumantra, go and call\nMy wives and ladies one and all.\nDrawn round me shall they fill the place\nWhen I behold my R\u00e1ma\u2019s face.\u201d\n\n  Quick to the inner rooms he sped,\nAnd thus to all the women said,\n\u201cCome, at the summons of the king:\nCome all, and make no tarrying.\u201d\n\n  Their husband\u2019s word, by him conveyed,\nSoon as they heard, the dames obeyed,\nAnd following his guidance all\nCame thronging to the regal hall.\nIn number half seven hundred, they,\nAll lovely dames, in long array,\nWith their bright eyes for weeping red,\nTo stand round Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1, sped.\nThey gathered, and the monarch viewed\nOne moment all the multitude,\nThen to Sumantra spoke and said:\n\u201cNow let my son be hither led.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra went. Then R\u00e1ma came,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, and the Maithil dame,\nAnd, as he led them on, their guide\nStraight to the monarch\u2019s presence hied.\nWhen yet far off the father saw\nHis son with raised palms toward him draw,\nGirt by his ladies, sick with woes,\nSwift from his royal seat he rose.\nWith all his strength the aged man\nTo meet his darling R\u00e1ma ran,\nBut trembling, wild with dark despair,\nFell on the ground and fainted there.\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, wont in cars to ride,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, threw them by the side\nOf the poor miserable king,\nHalf lifeless with his sorrow\u2019s sting.\nThroughout the spacious hall up went\nA thousand women\u2019s wild lament:\n\u201cAh R\u00e1ma!\u201d thus they wailed and wept,\nAnd anklets tinkled as they stepped\nAround his body, weeping, threw\nTheir loving arms the brothers two,\nAnd then, with S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s gentle aid,\nThe king upon a couch was laid.\nAt length to earth\u2019s imperial lord,\nWhen life and knowledge were restored,\nThough seas of woe went o\u2019er his head,\nWith suppliant hand, thus R\u00e1ma said:\n\u201cLord of us all, great King, thou art:\nBid me farewell before we part,\nTo Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood this day I go:\nOne blessing and one look bestow.\nLet Lakshma\u1e47 my companion be,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 also follow me.\nWith truthful pleas I sought to bend\nTheir purpose; but no ear they lend.\nNow cast this sorrow from thy heart,\nAnd let us all, great King, depart.\nAs Brahm\u00e1 sends his children, so\nLet Lakshma\u1e47, me, and S\u00edt\u00e1 go.\u201d\n\n  He stood unmoved, and watched intent\nUntil the king should grant consent.\nUpon his son his eyes he cast,\nAnd thus the monarch spake at last:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, by her arts enslaved,\nI gave the boons Kaikey\u00ed craved,\nUnfit to reign, by her misled:\nBe ruler in thy father\u2019s stead.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the lord of men addressed,\nR\u00e1ma, of virtue\u2019s friends the best,\nIn lore of language duly learned,\nHis answer, reverent, thus returned:\n\u201cA thousand years, O King, remain\nO\u2019er this our city still to reign.\nI in the woods my life will lead:\nThe lust of rule no more I heed.\nNine years and five I there will spend,\nAnd when the portioned days shall end,\nWill come, my vows and exile o\u2019er,\nAnd clasp thy feet, my King, once more.\u201d\n\n  A captive in the snare of truth,\nWeeping, distressed with woe and ruth,\nThus spake the monarch, while the queen\nKaikey\u00ed urged him on unseen:\n\u201cGo then, O R\u00e1ma, and begin\nThy course unvext by fear and sin:\nGo, my beloved son, and earn\nSuccess, and joy, and safe return.\nSo fast the bonds of duty bind.\nO Raghu\u2019s son, thy truthful mind,\nThat naught can turn thee back, or guide\nThy will so strongly fortified.\nBut O, a little longer stay,\nNor turn thy steps this night away,\nThat I one little day-\u2014alas!\nOne only\u2014-with my son may pass.\nMe and thy mother do not slight,\nBut stay, my son, with me to-night;\nWith every dainty please thy taste,\nAnd seek to-morrow morn the waste.\nHard is thy task, O Raghu\u2019s son,\nDire is the toil thou wilt not shun,\nFar to the lonely wood to flee,\nAnd leave thy friends for love of me.\nI swear it by my truth, believe,\nFor thee, my son, I deeply grieve,\nMisguided by the traitress dame\nWith hidden guile like smouldering flame.\nNow, by her wicked counsel stirred,\nThou fain wouldst keep my plighted word.\nNo marvel that my eldest born\nWould hold me true when I have sworn.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma having calmly heard\nHis wretched father speak each word,\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 standing by his side\nThus, humbly, to the King replied:\n\u201cIf dainties now my taste regale,\nTo-morrow must those dainties fail.\nThis day departure I prefer\nTo all that wealth can minister.\nO\u2019er this fair land, no longer mine,\nWhich I, with all her realms, resign,\nHer multitudes of men, her grain,\nHer stores of wealth, let Bharat reign.\nAnd let the promised boon which thou\nWast pleased to grant the queen ere now,\nBe hers in full. Be true, O King,\nKind giver of each precious thing.\nThy spoken word I still will heed,\nObeying all thy lips decreed:\nAnd fourteen years in woods will dwell\nWith those who live in glade and dell.\nNo hopes of power my heart can touch,\nNo selfish joys attract so much\nAs son of Raghu, to fulfil\nWith heart and soul my father\u2019s will.\nDismiss, dismiss thy needless woe,\nNor let those drowning torrents flow:\nThe Lord of Rivers in his pride\nKeeps to the banks that bar his tide.\nHere in thy presence I declare;\nBy thy good deeds, thy truth, I swear;\nNor lordship, joy, nor lands I prize;\nLife, heaven, all blessings I despise.\nI wish to see thee still remain\nMost true, O King, and free from stain.\nIt must not, Sire, it must not be:\nI cannot rest one hour with thee.\nThen bring this sorrow to an end,\nFor naught my settled will can bend.\nI gave a pledge that binds me too,\nAnd to that pledge I still am true.\nKaikey\u00ed bade me speed away:\nShe prayed me, and I answered yea.\nPine not for me, and weep no more;\nThe wood for us has joy in store,\nFilled with the wild deer\u2019s peaceful herds\nAnd voices of a thousand birds.\nA father is the God of each,\nYea, e\u2019en of Gods, so Scriptures teach:\nAnd I will keep my sire\u2019s decree,\nFor as a God I honour thee.\nO best of men, the time is nigh,\nThe fourteen years will soon pass by\nAnd to thine eyes thy son restore:\nBe comforted, and weep no more.\nThou with thy firmness shouldst support\nThese weeping crowds who throng the court;\nThen why, O chief of high renown,\nSo troubled, and thy soul cast down?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXV. Kaikey\u00ed Reproached.\n\n\nWild with the rage he could not calm,\nSumantra, grinding palm on palm,\nHis head in quick impatience shook,\nAnd sighed with woe he could not brook.\nHe gnashed his teeth, his eyes were red,\nFrom his changed face the colour fled.\nIn rage and grief that knew no law,\nThe temper of the king he saw.\nWith his word-arrows swift and keen\nHe shook the bosom of the queen.\nWith scorn, as though its lightning stroke\nWould blast her body, thus he spoke:\n\u201cThou, who, of no dread sin afraid,\nHast Da\u015baratha\u2019s self betrayed,\nLord of the world, whose might sustains\nEach thing that moves or fixed remains,\nWhat direr crime is left thee now?\nDeath to thy lord and house art thou,\nWhose cruel deeds the king distress,\nMahendra\u2019s peer in mightiness,\nFirm as the mountain\u2019s rooted steep,\nEnduring as the Ocean\u2019s deep.\nDespise not Da\u015baratha, he\nIs a kind lord and friend to thee.\nA loving wife in worth outruns\nThe mother of ten million sons.\nKings, when their sires have passed away,\nSucceed by birthright to the sway.\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son still rules the state,\nYet thou this rule wouldst violate.\nYea, let thy son, Kaikey\u00ed, reign,\nLet Bharat rule his sire\u2019s domain.\nThy will, O Queen, shall none oppose:\nWe all will go where R\u00e1ma goes.\nNo Br\u00e1hman, scorning thee, will rest\nWithin the realm thou governest,\nBut all will fly indignant hence:\nSo great thy trespass and offence.\nI marvel, when thy crime I see,\nEarth yawns not quick to swallow thee;\nAnd that the Br\u00e1hman saints prepare\nNo burning scourge thy soul to scare,\nWith cries of shame to smite thee, bent\nUpon our R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment.\nThe Mango tree with axes fell,\nAnd tend instead the Neem tree well,\nStill watered with all care the tree\nWill never sweet and pleasant be.\nThy mother\u2019s faults to thee descend,\nAnd with thy borrowed nature blend.\nTrue is the ancient saw: the Neem\nCan ne\u2019er distil a honeyed stream.\nTaught by the tale of long ago\nThy mother\u2019s hateful sin we know.\nA bounteous saint, as all have heard,\nA boon upon thy sire conferred,\nAnd all the eloquence revealed\nThat fills the wood, the flood, the field.\nNo creature walked, or swam, or flew,\nBut he its varied language knew.\nOne morn upon his couch he heard\nThe chattering of a gorgeous bird.\nAnd as he marked its close intent\nHe laughed aloud in merriment.\nThy mother furious with her lord,\nAnd fain to perish by the cord,\nSaid to her husband: \u201cI would know,\nO Monarch, why thou laughest so.\u201d\nThe king in answer spake again:\n\u201cIf I this laughter should explain,\nThis very hour would be my last,\nFor death, be sure would follow fast.\u201d\nAgain thy mother, flushed with ire,\nTo Kekaya spake, thy royal sire:\n\u201cTell me the cause; then live or die:\nI will not brook thy laugh, not I.\u201d\nThus by his darling wife addressed,\nThe king whose might all earth confessed,\nTo that kind saint his story told\nWho gave the wondrous gift of old.\nHe listened to the king\u2019s complaint,\nAnd thus in answer spoke the saint:\n\u201cKing, let her quit thy home or die,\nBut never with her prayer comply.\u201d\nThe saint\u2019s reply his trouble stilled,\nAnd all his heart with pleasure filled.\nThy mother from his home he sent,\nAnd days like Lord Kuvera\u2019s spent.\nSo thou wouldst force the king, misled\nBy thee, in evil paths to tread,\nAnd bent on evil wouldst begin,\nThrough folly, this career of sin.\nMost true, methinks, in thee is shown\nThe ancient saw so widely known:\nThe sons their fathers\u2019 worth declare\nAnd girls their mothers\u2019 nature share.\nSo be not thou. For pity\u2019s sake\nAccept the word the monarch spake.\nThy husband\u2019s will, O Queen, obey,\nAnd be the people\u2019s hope and stay,\nO, do not, urged by folly, draw\nThe king to tread on duty\u2019s law.\nThe lord who all the world sustains,\nBright as the God o\u2019er Gods who reigns.\nOur glorious king, by sin unstained,\nWill never grant what fraud obtained;\nNo shade of fault in him is seen:\nLet R\u00e1ma be anointed, Queen.\nRemember, Queen, undying shame\nWill through the world pursue thy name,\nIf R\u00e1ma leave the king his sire,\nAnd, banished, to the wood retire.\nCome, from thy breast this fever fling:\nOf his own realm be R\u00e1ma king.\nNone in this city e\u2019er can dwell\nTo tend and love thee half so well.\nWhen R\u00e1ma sits in royal place,\nTrue to the custom of his race\nOur monarch of the mighty bow\nA hermit to the woods will go.\u201d(310)\n\n  Sumantra thus, palm joined to palm,\nPoured forth his words of bane and balm,\nWith keen reproach, with pleading kind,\nStriving to move Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s mind.\nIn vain he prayed, in vain reproved,\nShe heard unsoftened and unmoved.\nNor could the eyes that watched her view\nOne yielding look, one change of hue.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVI. Siddh\u00e1rth\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son with anguish torn\nFor the great oath his lips had sworn,\nWith tears and sighs of sharpest pain\nThus to Sumantra spake again:\n\u201cPrepare thou quick a perfect force,\nCars, elephants, and foot, and horse,\nTo follow Raghu\u2019s scion hence\nEquipped with all magnificence.\nLet traders with the wealth they sell,\nAnd those who charming stories tell,\nAnd dancing-women fair of face,\nThe prince\u2019s ample chariots grace.\nOn all the train who throng his courts,\nAnd those who share his manly sports,\nGreat gifts of precious wealth bestow,\nAnd bid them with their master go.\nLet noble arms, and many a wain,\nAnd townsmen swell the prince\u2019s train;\nAnd hunters best for woodland skill\nTheir places in the concourse fill.\nWhile elephants and deer he slays,\nDrinking wood honey as he strays,\nAnd looks on streams each fairer yet,\nHis kingdom he may chance forget.\nLet all my gold and wealth of corn\nWith R\u00e1ma to the wilds be borne;\nFor it will soothe the exile\u2019s lot\nTo sacrifice in each pure spot,\nDeal ample largess forth, and meet\nEach hermit in his calm retreat.\nThe wealth shall R\u00e1ma with him bear,\nAyodhy\u00e1 shall be Bharat\u2019s share.\u201d\n\n  As thus Kakutstha\u2019s offspring spoke,\nFear in Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s breast awoke.\nThe freshness of her face was dried,\nHer trembling tongue was terror-tied.\nAlarmed and sad, with bloodless cheek,\nShe turned to him and scarce could speak:\n\u201cNay, Sire, but Bharat shall not gain\nAn empty realm where none remain.\nMy Bharat shall not rule a waste\nReft of all sweets to charm the taste\u2014\nThe wine-cup\u2019s dregs, all dull and dead,\nWhence the light foam and life are fled.\u201d\n\n  Thus in her rage the long-eyed dame\nSpoke her dire speech untouched by shame.\nThen, answering, Da\u015baratha spoke:\n\u201cWhy, having bowed me to the yoke,\nDost thou, must cruel, spur and goad\nMe who am struggling with the load?\nWhy didst thou not oppose at first\nThis hope, vile Queen, so fondly nursed?\u201d\n\n  Scarce could the monarch\u2019s angry speech\nThe ears of the fair lady reach,\nWhen thus, with double wrath inflamed,\nKaikey\u00ed to the king exclaimed:\n\n  \u201cSagar, from whom thy line is traced,\nDrove forth his eldest son disgraced,\nCalled Asamanj, whose fate we know:\nThus should thy son to exile go.\u201d\n\n  \u201cFie on thee, dame!\u201d the monarch said;\nEach of her people bent his head,\nAnd stood in shame and sorrow mute:\nShe marked not, bold and resolute.\nThen great Siddh\u00e1rth, inflamed with rage,\nThe good old councillor and sage\nOn whose wise rede the king relied,\nTo Queen Kaikey\u00ed thus replied:\n\u201cBut Asamanj the cruel laid\nHis hands on infants as they played,\nCast them to Sarj\u00fa\u2019s flood, and smiled\nFor pleasure when he drowned a child.\u201d(311)\nThe people saw, and, furious, sped\nStraight the the king his sire and said:\n\u201cChoose us, O glory of the throne,\nChoose us, or Asamanj alone.\u201d\n\u201cWhence comes this dread?\u201d the monarch cried;\nAnd all the people thus replied:\n\u201cIn folly, King, he loves to lay\nFierce hands upon our babes at play,\nCasts them to Sarj\u00fa\u2019s flood and joys\nTo murder our bewildered boys.\u201d\nWith heedful ear the king of men\nHeard each complaining citizen.\nTo please their troubled minds he strove,\nAnd from the state his son he drove.\nWith wife and gear upon a car\nHe placed him quick, and sent him far.\nAnd thus he gave commandment, \u201cHe\nShall all his days an exile be.\u201d\nWith basket and with plough he strayed\nO\u2019er mountain heights, through pathless shade,\nRoaming all lands a weary time,\nAn outcast wretch defiled with crime.\nSagar, the righteous path who held,\nHis wicked offspring thus expelled.\nBut what has R\u00e1ma done to blame?\nWhy should his sentence be the same?\nNo sin his stainless name can dim;\nWe see no fault at all in him.\nPure as the moon, no darkening blot\nOn his sweet life has left a spot.\nIf thou canst see one fault, e\u2019en one,\nTo dim the fame of Raghu\u2019s son,\nThat fault this hour, O lady, show,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to the wood shall go.\nTo drive the guiltless to the wild,\nTruth\u2019s constant lover, undefiled,\nWould, by defiance of the right,\nThe glory e\u2019en of Indra blight.\nThen cease, O lady, and dismiss\nThy hope to ruin R\u00e1ma\u2019s bliss,\nOr all thy gain, O fair of face,\nWill be men\u2019s hatred, and disgrace.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVII. The Coats Of Bark.\n\n\nThus spake the virtuous sage: and then\nR\u00e1ma addressed the king of men.\nIn laws of meek behaviour bred,\nThus to his sire he meekly said:\n\n  \u201cKing, I renounce all earthly care,\nAnd live in woods on woodland fare.\nWhat, dead to joys, have I to do\nWith lordly train and retinue!\nWho gives his elephant and yet\nUpon the girths his heart will set?\nHow can a cord attract his eyes\nWho gives away the nobler prize?\nBest of the good, with me be led\nNo host, my King with banners spread.\nAll wealth, all lordship I resign:\nThe hermit\u2019s dress alone be mine.\nBefore I go, have here conveyed\nA little basket and a spade.\nWith these alone I go, content,\nFor fourteen years of banishment.\u201d\n\n  With her own hands Kaikey\u00ed took\nThe hermit coats of bark, and, \u201cLook,\u201d\nShe cried with bold unblushing brow\nBefore the concourse, \u201cDress thee now.\u201d\nThat lion leader of the brave\nTook from her hand the dress she gave,\nCast his fine raiment on the ground,\nAnd round his waist the vesture bound.\nThen quick the hero Lakshma\u1e47 too\nHis garment from his shoulders threw,\nAnd, in the presence of his sire,\nIndued the ascetic\u2019s rough attire.\nBut S\u00edt\u00e1, in her silks arrayed,\nThrew glances, trembling and afraid,\nOn the bark coat she had to wear,\nLike a shy doe that eyes the snare.\nAshamed and weeping for distress\nFrom the queen\u2019s hand she took the dress.\nThe fair one, by her husband\u2019s side\nWho matched heaven\u2019s minstrel monarch,(312) cried:\n\u201cHow bind they on their woodland dress,\nThose hermits of the wilderness?\u201d\n\n  There stood the pride of Janak\u2019s race\nPerplexed, with sad appealing face.\nOne coat the lady\u2019s fingers grasped,\nOne round her neck she feebly clasped,\nBut failed again, again, confused\nBy the wild garb she ne\u2019er had used.\nThen quickly hastening R\u00e1ma, pride\nOf all who cherish virtue, tied\nThe rough bark mantle on her, o\u2019er\nThe silken raiment that she wore.\n\n  Then the sad women when they saw\nR\u00e1ma the choice bark round her draw,\nRained water from each tender eye,\nAnd cried aloud with bitter cry:\n\u201cO, not on her, beloved, not\nOn S\u00edt\u00e1 falls thy mournful lot.\nIf, faithful to thy father\u2019s will,\nThou must go forth, leave S\u00edt\u00e1 still.\nLet S\u00edt\u00e1 still remaining here\nOur hearts with her loved presence cheer.\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 by thy side to aid\nSeek thou, dear son, the lonely shade.\nUnmeet, one good and fair as she\nShould dwell in woods a devotee.\nLet not our prayers be prayed in vain:\nLet beauteous S\u00edt\u00e1 yet remain;\nFor by thy love of duty tied\nThou wilt not here thyself abide.\u201d\n\n  Then the king\u2019s venerable guide\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, when he saw each coat\nEnclose the lady\u2019s waist and throat,\nHer zeal with gentle words repressed,\nAnd Queen Kaikey\u00ed thus addressed:\n\u201cO evil-hearted sinner, shame\nOf royal Kekaya\u2019s race and name;\nWho matchless in thy sin couldst cheat\nThy lord the king with vile deceit;\nLost to all sense of duty, know\nS\u00edt\u00e1 to exile shall not go.\nS\u00edt\u00e1 shall guard, as \u2019twere her own,\nThe precious trust of R\u00e1ma\u2019s throne.\nThose joined by wedlock\u2019s sweet control\nHave but one self and common soul.\nThus S\u00edt\u00e1 shall our empress be,\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s self and soul is she.\nOr if she still to R\u00e1ma cleave\nAnd for the woods the kingdom leave:\nIf naught her loving heart deter,\nWe and this town will follow her.\nThe warders of the queen shall take\nTheir wives and go for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake,\nThe nation with its stores of grain,\nThe city\u2019s wealth shall swell his train.\nBharat, \u015aatrughna both will wear\nBark mantles, and his lodging share,\nStill with their elder brother dwell\nIn the wild wood, and serve him well.\nRest here alone, and rule thy state\nUnpeopled, barren, desolate;\nBe empress of the land and trees,\nThou sinner whom our sorrows please.\nThe land which R\u00e1ma reigns not o\u2019er\nShall bear the kingdom\u2019s name no more:\nThe woods which R\u00e1ma wanders through\nShall be our home and kingdom too.\nBharat, be sure, will never deign\nO\u2019er realms his father yields, to reign.\nNay, if the king\u2019s true son he be,\nHe will not, sonlike, dwell with thee.\nNay, shouldst thou from the earth arise,\nAnd send thy message from the skies,\nTo his forefathers\u2019 custom true\nNo erring course would he pursue.\nSo hast thou, by thy grievous fault,\nOffended him thou wouldst exalt.\nIn all the world none draws his breath\nWho loves not R\u00e1ma, true to death.\nThis day, O Queen, shalt thou behold\nBirds, deer, and beasts from lea and fold\nTurn to the woods in R\u00e1ma\u2019s train.\nAnd naught save longing trees remain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVIII. Care For Kausaly\u00e1\n\n\nThen when the people wroth and sad\nSaw S\u00edt\u00e1 in bark vesture clad,\nThough wedded, like some widowed thing,\nThey cried out, \u201cShame upon thee, King!\u201d\nGrieved by their cry and angry look\nThe lord of earth at once forsook\nAll hope in life that still remained,\nIn duty, self, and fame unstained.\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son with burning sighs\nOn Queen Kaikey\u00ed bent his eyes,\nAnd said: \u201cBut S\u00edt\u00e1 must not flee\nIn garments of a devotee.\nMy holy guide has spoken truth:\nUnfit is she in tender youth,\nSo gently nurtured, soft and fair,\nThe hardships of the wood to share.\nHow has she sinned, devout and true,\n    The noblest monarch\u2019s child,\n  That she should garb of bark indue\n    And journey to the wild?\n  That she should spend her youthful days\n    Amid a hermit band,\n  Like some poor mendicant who strays\n    Sore troubled, through the land?\n  Ah, let the child of Janak throw\n    Her dress of bark aside,\n  And let the royal lady go\n    With royal wealth supplied.\n  Not such the pledge I gave before,\n    Unfit to linger here:\n  The oath, which I the sinner swore\n    Is kept, and leaves her clear.\n  Won from her childlike love this too\n    My instant death would be,\n  As blossoms on the old bamboo\n    Destroy the parent tree.(313)\nIf aught amiss by R\u00e1ma done\nOffend thee, O thou wicked one,\nWhat least transgression canst thou find\nIn her, thou worst of womankind?\nWhat shade of fault in her appears,\nWhose full soft eye is like the deer\u2019s?\nWhat canst thou blame in Janak\u2019s child,\nSo gentle, modest, true, and mild?\nIs not one crime complete, that sent\nMy R\u00e1ma forth to banishment?\nAnd wilt thou other sins commit,\nThou wicked one, to double it?\nThis is the pledge and oath I swore,\nWhat thou besoughtest, and no more,\nOf R\u00e1ma\u2014for I heard thee, dame\u2014\nWhen he for consecration came.\nNow with this limit not content,\nIn hell should be thy punishment,\nWho fain the Maithil bride wouldst press\nTo clothe her limbs with hermit dress.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the father in his woe;\nAnd R\u00e1ma, still prepared to go,\nTo him who sat with drooping head\nSpake in return these words and said:\n\n  \u201cJust King, here stands my mother dear,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, one whom all revere.\nSubmissive, gentle, old is she,\nAnd keeps her lips from blame of thee,\nFor her, kind lord, of me bereft\nA sea of whelming woe is left.\nO, show her in her new distress\nStill fonder love and tenderness.\nWell honoured by thine honoured hand\nHer grief for me let her withstand,\nWho wrapt in constant thought of me\nIn me would live a devotee.\nPeer of Mahendra, O, to her be kind,\nAnd treat I pray, my gentle mother so,\nThat, when I dwell afar, her life resigned,\nShe may not pass to Y\u00e1ma\u2019s realm for woe.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIX. Counsel To S\u00edt\u00e1.\n\n\nScarce had the sire, with each dear queen,\nHeard R\u00e1ma\u2019s pleading voice, and seen\nHis darling in his hermit dress\nEre failed his senses for distress.\nConvulsed with woe, his soul that shook,\nOn Raghu\u2019s son he could not look;\nOr if he looked with failing eye\nHe could not to the chief reply.\nBy pangs of bitter grief assailed,\nThe long-armed monarch wept and wailed,\nHalf dead a while and sore distraught,\nWhile R\u00e1ma filled his every thought.\n\u201cThis hand of mine in days ere now\nHas reft her young from many a cow,\nOr living things has idly slain:\nHence comes, I ween, this hour of pain.\nNot till the hour is come to die\nCan from its shell the spirit fly.\nDeath comes not, and Kaikey\u00ed still\nTorments the wretch she cannot kill,\nWho sees his son before him quit\nThe fine soft robes his rank that fit,\nAnd, glorious as the burning fire,\nIn hermit garb his limbs attire.\nNow all the people grieve and groan\nThrough Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s deed alone,\nWho, having dared this deed of sin,\nStrives for herself the gain to win.\u201d\n\n  He spoke. With tears his eyes grew dim,\nHis senses all deserted him.\nHe cried, O R\u00e1ma, once, then weak\nAnd fainting could no further speak.\nUnconscious there he lay: at length\nRegathering his sense and strength,\nWhile his full eyes their torrents shed,\nTo wise Sumantra thus he said:\n\u201cYoke the light car, and hither lead\nFleet coursers of the noblest breed,\nAnd drive this heir of lofty fate\nBeyond the limit of the state.\nThis seems the fruit that virtues bear,\nThe meed of worth which texts declare\u2014\nThe sending of the brave and good\nBy sire and mother to the wood.\u2019\u201d\n\n  He heard the monarch, and obeyed,\nWith ready feet that ne\u2019er delayed,\nAnd brought before the palace gate\nThe horses and the car of state.\nThen to the monarch\u2019s son he sped,\nAnd raising hands of reverence said\nThat the light car which gold made fair,\nWith best of steeds, was standing there.\nKing Da\u015baratha called in haste\nThe lord o\u2019er all his treasures placed.\nAnd spoke, well skilled in place and time,\nHis will to him devoid of crime:\n\u201cCount all the years she has to live\nAfar in forest wilds, and give\nTo S\u00edt\u00e1 robes and gems of price\nAs for the time may well suffice.\u201d\nQuick to the treasure-room he went,\nCharged by that king most excellent,\nBrought the rich stores, and gave them all\nTo S\u00edt\u00e1 in the monarch\u2019s hall.\nThe Maithil dame of high descent\nReceived each robe and ornament,\nAnd tricked those limbs, whose lines foretold\nHigh destiny, with gems and gold.\nSo well adorned, so fair to view,\nA glory through the hall she threw:\nSo, when the Lord of Light upsprings,\nHis radiance o\u2019er the sky he flings.\nThen Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 spake at last,\nWith loving arms about her cast,\nPressed lingering kisses on her head,\nAnd to the high-souled lady said:\n\u201cAh, in this faithless world below\nWhen dark misfortune comes and woe,\nWives, loved and cherished every day,\nNeglect their lords and disobey.\nYes, woman\u2019s nature still is this:\u2014\nAfter long days of calm and bliss\nWhen some light grief her spirit tries,\nShe changes all her love, or flies.\nYoung wives are thankless, false in soul,\nWith roving hearts that spurn control.\nBrooding on sin and quickly changed,\nIn one short hour their love estranged.\nNot glorious deed or lineage fair,\nNot knowledge, gift, or tender care\nIn chains of lasting love can bind\nA woman\u2019s light inconstant mind.\nBut those good dames who still maintain\nWhat right, truth, Scripture, rule ordain\u2014\nNo holy thing in their pure eyes\nWith one beloved husband vies.\nNor let thy lord my son, condemned\nTo exile, be by thee contemned,\nFor be he poor or wealthy, he\nIs as a God, dear child, to thee.\u201d\n\n  When S\u00edt\u00e1 heard Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s speech\nHer duty and her gain to teach,\nShe joined her palms with reverent grace\nAnd gave her answer face to face:\n\u201cAll will I do, forgetting naught,\nWhich thou, O honoured Queen, hast taught.\nI know, have heard, and deep have stored\nThe rules of duty to my lord.\nNot me, good Queen, shouldst thou include\nAmong the faithless multitude.\nIts own sweet light the moon shall leave\nEre I to duty cease to cleave.\nThe stringless lute gives forth no strain,\nThe wheelless car is urged in vain;\nNo joy a lordless dame, although\nBlest with a hundred sons, can know.\nFrom father, brother, and from son\nA measured share of joy is won:\nWho would not honour, love, and bless\nHer lord, whose gifts are measureless?\nThus trained to think, I hold in awe\nScripture\u2019s command and duty\u2019s law.\nHim can I hold in slight esteem?\nHer lord is woman\u2019s God, I deem.\u201d\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 heard the lady\u2019s speech,\nNor failed those words her heart to reach.\nThen, pure in mind, she gave to flow\nThe tear that sprang of joy and woe.\nThen duteous R\u00e1ma forward came\nAnd stood before the honoured dame,\nAnd joining reverent hands addressed\nThe queen in rank above the rest:\n\u201cO mother, from these tears refrain;\nLook on my sire and still thy pain.\nTo thee my days afar shall fly\nAs if sweet slumber closed thine eye,\nAnd fourteen years of exile seem\nTo thee, dear mother, like a dream.\nOn me returning safe and well,\nGirt by my friends, thine eyes shall dwell.\u201d\n\n  Thus for their deep affection\u2019s sake\nThe hero to his mother spake,\nThen to the half seven hundred too,\nWives of his sire, paid reverence due.\nThus Da\u015baratha\u2019s son addressed\nThat crowd of matrons sore distressed:\n\u201cIf from these lips, while here I dwelt,\nOne heedless taunt you e\u2019er have felt,\nForgive me, pray. And now adieu,\nI bid good-bye to all of you.\u201d\nThen straight, like curlews\u2019 cries, upwent\nThe voices of their wild lament,\nWhile, as he bade farewell, the crowd\nOf royal women wept aloud,\nAnd through the ample hall\u2019s extent.\nWhere erst the sound of tabour, blent\nWith drum and shrill-toned instrument,\n  In joyous concert rose,\nNow rang the sound of wailing high,\nThe lamentation and the cry,\nThe shriek, the choking sob, the sigh\n  That told the ladies\u2019 woes.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XL. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Departure.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47 bent\nAt the king\u2019s feet, and sadly went\nRound him with slow steps reverent.\nWhen R\u00e1ma of the duteous heart\nHad gained his sire\u2019s consent to part,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 by his side he paid\nDue reverence to the queen dismayed.\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, with affection meet,\nBowed down and clasped his mother\u2019s feet.\nSumitr\u00e1 viewed him as he pressed\nHer feet, and thus her son addressed:\n\u201cNeglect not R\u00e1ma wandering there,\nBut tend him with thy faithful care.\nIn hours of wealth, in time of woe,\nHim, sinless son, thy refuge know.\nFrom this good law the just ne\u2019er swerve,\nThat younger sons the eldest serve,\nAnd to this righteous rule incline\nAll children of thine ancient line\u2014\nFreely to give, reward each rite,\nNor spare their bodies in the fight.\nLet R\u00e1ma Da\u015baratha be,\nLook upon S\u00edt\u00e1 as on me,\nAnd let the cot wherein you dwell\nBe thine Ayodhy\u00e1. Fare thee well.\u201d\nHer blessing thus Sumitr\u00e1 gave\nTo him whose soul to R\u00e1ma clave,\nExclaiming, when her speech was done,\n\u201cGo forth, O Lakshma\u1e47, go, my son.\nGo forth, my son to win success,\nHigh victory and happiness.\nGo forth thy foemen to destroy,\nAnd turn again at last with joy.\u201d\n\n  As M\u00e1tali his charioteer\nSpeaks for the Lord of Gods to hear,\nSumantra, palm to palm applied,\nIn reverence trained, to R\u00e1ma cried:\n\u201cO famous Prince, my car ascend,\u2014\nMay blessings on thy course attend,\u2014\nAnd swiftly shall my horses flee\nAnd place thee where thou biddest me.\nThe fourteen years thou hast to stay\nFar in the wilds, begin to-day;\nFor Oueen Kaikey\u00ed cries, Away.\u201d\n\n  Then S\u00edt\u00e1, best of womankind,\nAscended, with a tranquil mind,\nSoon as her toilet task was done,\nThat chariot brilliant as the sun.\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 true and bold\nSprang on the car adorned with gold.\nThe king those years had counted o\u2019er,\nAnd given S\u00edt\u00e1 robes and store\nOf precious ornaments to wear\nWhen following her husband there.\nThe brothers in the car found place\nFor nets and weapons of the chase,\nThere warlike arms and mail they laid,\nA leathern basket and a spade.\nSoon as Sumantra saw the three\nWere seated in the chariot, he\nUrged on each horse of noble breed,\nWho matched the rushing wind in speed.\nAs thus the son of Raghu went\nForth for his dreary banishment,\nChill numbing grief the town assailed,\nAll strength grew weak, all spirit failed,\nAyodhy\u00e1 through her wide extent\nWas filled with tumult and lament:\nSteeds neighed and shook the bells they bore,\nEach elephant returned a roar.\nThen all the city, young and old,\nWild with their sorrow uncontrolled,\nRushed to the car, as, from the sun\nThe panting herds to water run.\nBefore the car, behind, they clung,\nAnd there as eagerly they hung,\nWith torrents streaming from their eyes,\nCalled loudly with repeated cries:\n\u201cListen, Sumantra: draw thy rein;\nDrive gently, and thy steeds restrain.\nOnce more on R\u00e1ma will we gaze,\nNow to be lost for many days.\nThe queen his mother has, be sure,\nA heart of iron, to endure\nTo see her godlike R\u00e1ma go,\nNor feel it shattered by the blow.\nS\u00edt\u00e1, well done! Videha\u2019s pride,\nStill like his shadow by his side;\nRejoicing in thy duty still\nAs sunlight cleaves to Meru\u2019s hill.\nThou, Lakshma\u1e47, too, hast well deserved,\nWho from thy duty hast not swerved,\nTending the peer of Gods above,\nWhose lips speak naught but words of love.\nThy firm resolve is nobly great,\nAnd high success on thee shall wait.\nYea, thou shalt win a priceless meed\u2014\nThy path with him to heaven shall lead.\u201d\nAs thus they spake, they could not hold\nThe tears that down their faces rolled,\nWhile still they followed for a space\nTheir darling of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race.\n\n  There stood surrounded by a ring\nOf mournful wives the mournful king;\nFor, \u201cI will see once more,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cMine own dear son,\u201d and forth he hied.\nAs he came near, there rose the sound\nOf weeping, as the dames stood round.\nSo the she-elephants complain\nWhen their great lord and guide is slain.\nKakutstha\u2019s son, the king of men,\nThe glorious sire, looked troubled then,\nAs the full moon is when dismayed\nBy dark eclipse\u2019s threatening shade.\nThen Da\u015baratha\u2019s son, designed\nFor highest fate of lofty mind,\nUrged to more speed the charioteer,\n\u201cAway, away! why linger here?\nUrge on thy horses,\u201d Rama cried,\nAnd \u201cStay, O stay,\u201d the people sighed.\nSumantra, urged to speed away,\nThe townsmen\u2019s call must disobey,\nForth as the long-armed hero went,\nThe dust his chariot wheels up sent\nWas laid by streams that ever flowed\nFrom their sad eyes who filled the road.\nThen, sprung of woe, from eyes of all\nThe women drops began to fall,\nAs from each lotus on the lake\nThe darting fish the water shake.\nWhen he, the king of high renown,\nSaw that one thought held all the town,\nLike some tall tree he fell and lay,\nWhose root the axe has hewn away.\nThen straight a mighty cry from those\nWho followed R\u00e1ma\u2019s car arose,\nWho saw their monarch fainting there\nBeneath that grief too great to bear.\nThen \u201cR\u00e1ma, R\u00e1ma!\u201d with the cry\nOf \u201cAh, his mother!\u201d sounded high,\nAs all the people wept aloud\nAround the ladies\u2019 sorrowing crowd.\nWhen R\u00e1ma backward turned his eye,\nAnd saw the king his father lie\nWith troubled sense and failing limb,\nAnd the sad queen, who followed him,\nLike some young creature in the net,\nThat will not, in its misery, let\nIts wild eyes on its mother rest,\nSo, by the bonds of duty pressed,\nHis mother\u2019s look he could not meet.\nHe saw them with their weary feet,\nWho, used to bliss, in cars should ride,\nWho ne\u2019er by sorrow should be tried,\nAnd, as one mournful look he cast,\n\u201cDrive on,\u201d he cried, \u201cSumantra, fast.\u201d\nAs when the driver\u2019s torturing hook\nGoads on an elephant, the look\nOf sire and mother in despair\nWas more than R\u00e1ma\u2019s heart could bear.\nAs mother kine to stalls return\nWhich hold the calves for whom they yearn,\nSo to the car she tried to run\nAs a cow seeks her little one.\nOnce and again the hero\u2019s eyes\nLooked on his mother, as with cries\nOf woe she called and gestures wild,\n\u201cO S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47, O my child!\u201d\n\u201cStay,\u201d cried the king, \u201cthy chariot stay:\u201d\n\u201cOn, on,\u201d cried R\u00e1ma, \u201cspeed away.\u201d\nAs one between two hosts, inclined\nTo neither was Sumantra\u2019s mind.\nBut R\u00e1ma spake these words again:\n\u201cA lengthened woe is bitterest pain.\nOn, on; and if his wrath grow hot,\nThine answer be, \u2018I heard thee not.\u2019 \u201d\nSumantra, at the chief\u2019s behest,\nDismissed the crowd that toward him pressed,\nAnd, as he bade, to swiftest speed\nUrged on his way each willing steed.\nThe king\u2019s attendants parted thence,\nAnd paid him heart-felt reverence:\nIn mind, and with the tears he wept,\nEach still his place near R\u00e1ma kept.\nAs swift away the horses sped,\nHis lords to Da\u015baratha said:\n\u201cTo follow him whom thou again\nWouldst see returning home is vain.\u201d\n  With failing limb and drooping mien\n    He heard their counsel wise:\n  Still on their son the king and queen\n    Kept fast their lingering eyes.(314)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLI. The Citizens\u2019 Lament.\n\n\nThe lion chief with hands upraised\nWas born from eyes that fondly gazed.\nBut then the ladies\u2019 bower was rent\nWith cries of weeping and lament:\n\u201cWhere goes he now, our lord, the sure\nProtector of the friendless poor,\nIn whom the wretched and the weak\nDefence and aid were wont to seek?\nAll words of wrath he turned aside,\nAnd ne\u2019er, when cursed, in ire replied.\nHe shared his people\u2019s woe, and stilled\nThe troubled breast which rage had filled.\nOur chief, on lofty thoughts intent,\nIn glorious fame pre\u00ebminent:\nAs on his own dear mother, thus\nHe ever looked on each of us.\nWhere goes he now? His sire\u2019s behest,\nBy Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s guile distressed,\nHas banished to the forest hence\nHim who was all the world\u2019s defence.\nAh, senseless King, to drive away\nThe hope of men, their guard and stay,\nTo banish to the distant wood\nR\u00e1ma the duteous, true, and good!\u201d\nThe royal dames, like cows bereaved\nOf their young calves, thus sadly grieved.\nThe monarch heard them as they wailed,\nAnd by the fire of grief assailed\nFor his dear son, he bowed his head,\nAnd all his sense and memory fled.\n\n  Then were no fires of worship fed,\nThick darkness o\u2019er the sun was spread.\nThe cows their thirsty calves denied,\nAnd elephants flung their food aside.\nTri\u015banku,(315) Jupiter looked dread,\nAnd Mercury and Mars the red,\nIn direful opposition met,\nThe glory of the moon beset.\nThe lunar stars withheld their light,\nThe planets were no longer bright,\nBut meteors with their horrid glare,\nAnd dire Vi\u015b\u00e1kh\u00e1s(316) lit the air.\nAs troubled Ocean heaves and raves\nWhen Doom\u2019s wild tempest sweeps the waves,\nThus all Ayodhy\u00e1 reeled and bent\nWhen R\u00e1ma to the forest went.\nAnd chilling grief and dark despair\nFell suddenly on all men there.\nTheir wonted pastime all forgot,\nNor thought of food, or touched it not.\nCrowds in the royal street were seen\nWith weeping eye and troubled mien:\nNo more a people gay and glad,\nEach head and heart was sick and sad.\nNo more the cool wind softly blew,\nThe moon no more was fair to view,\nNo more the sun with genial glow\nCherished the world now plunged in woe.\nSons, brothers, husbands, wedded wives\nForgot the ties that joined their lives;\nNo thought for kith and kin was spared,\nBut all for only R\u00e1ma cared.\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s friends who loved him best,\nTheir minds disordered and distressed.\nBy the great burthen of their woes\nTurned not to slumber or repose.\nLike Earth with all her hills bereft\n    Of Indra\u2019s guiding care.\n  Ayodhy\u00e1 in her sorrow left\n    By him, the high souled heir,\n  Was bowed by fear and sorrow\u2019s force,\n    And shook with many a throe,\n  While warrior, elephant, and horse\n    Sent up the cry of woe.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLII. Dasaratha\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nWhile yet the dust was seen afar\nThat marked the course of R\u00e1ma\u2019s car,\nThe glory of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race\nTurned not away his eager face.\nWhile yet his duteous son he saw\nHe could not once his gaze withdraw,\nBut rooted to the spot remained\nWith eyes that after R\u00e1ma strained.\nBut when that dust no more he viewed,\nFainting he fell by grief subdued.\nTo his right hand Kau\u015baly\u00e1 went,\nAnd ready aid the lady lent,\nWhile Bharat\u2019s loving mother tried\nTo raise him on the other side.\nThe king, within whose ordered soul\nJustice and virtue held control,\nTo Queen Kaikey\u00ed turned and said,\nWith every sense disquieted:\n\u201cTouch me not, thou whose soul can plot\nAll sin. Kaikey\u00ed, touch me not.\nNo loving wife, no friend to me,\nI ne\u2019er again would look on thee;\nNe\u2019er from this day have aught to do\nWith thee and all thy retinue;\nThee whom no virtuous thoughts restrain,\nWhose selfish heart seeks only gain.\nThe hand I laid in mine, O dame,\nThe steps we took around the flame,(317)\nAnd all that links thy life to mine\nHere and hereafter I resign.\nIf Bharat too, thy darling son,\nJoy in the rule thy art has won,\nNe\u2019er may the funeral offerings paid\nBy his false hand approach my shade.\u201d\n\n  Then while the dust upon him hung,\nThe monarch to Kau\u015baly\u00e1 clung,\nAnd she with mournful steps and slow\nTurned to the palace, worn with woe.\nAs one whose hand has touched the fire,\nOr slain a Br\u00e1hman in his ire,\nHe felt his heart with sorrow torn\nStill thinking of his son forlorn.\nEach step was torture, as the road\nThe traces of the chariot showed,\nAnd as the shadowed sun grows dim\nSo care and anguish darkened him.\nHe raised a cry, by woe distraught,\nAs of his son again he thought.\nAnd judging that the car had sped\nBeyond the city, thus he said:\n\u201cI still behold the foot-prints made\nBy the good horses that conveyed\nMy son afar: these marks I see,\nBut high-souled R\u00e1ma, where is he?\nAh me, my son! my first and best,\nOn pleasant couches wont to rest,\nWith limbs perfumed with sandal, fanned\nBy many a beauty\u2019s tender hand:\nWhere will he lie with log or stone\nBeneath him for a pillow thrown,\nTo leave at morn his earthy bed,\nNeglected, and with dust o\u2019erspread,\nAs from the flood with sigh and pant\nComes forth the husband elephant?\nThe men who make the woods their home\nShall see the long-armed hero roam\nRoused from his bed, though lord of all,\nIn semblance of a friendless thrall.\nJanak\u2019s dear child who ne\u2019er has met\nWith aught save joy and comfort yet,\nWill reach to-day the forest, worn\nAnd wearied with the brakes of thorn.\nAh, gentle girl, of woods unskilled,\nHow will her heart with dread be filled\nAt the wild beasts\u2019 deep roaring there,\nWhose voices lift the shuddering hair!\nKaikey\u00ed, glory in thy gain,\nAnd, widow queen, begin to reign:\nNo will, no power to live have I\nWhen my brave son no more is nigh.\u201d\n\n  Thus pouring forth laments, the king\nGirt by the people\u2019s crowded ring,\nEntered the noble bower like one\nNew-bathed when funeral rites are done.\nWhere\u2019er he looked naught met his gaze\nBut empty houses, courts, and ways.\nClosed were the temples: countless feet\nNo longer trod the royal street,\nAnd thinking of his son he viewed\nMen weak and worn and woe-subdued.\nAs sinks the sun into a cloud,\nSo passed he on, and wept aloud,\nWithin that house no more to be\nThe dwelling of the banished three,\nBrave R\u00e1ma, his Vedehan bride,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 by his brother\u2019s side:\nLike broad still waters, when the king\nOf all the birds that ply the wing\nHas swooped from heaven and borne away\nThe glittering snakes that made them gay.\nWith choking sobs and voice half spent\nThe king renewed his sad lament:\nWith broken utterance faint and low\nScarce could he speak these words of woe:\n\u201cMy steps to R\u00e1ma\u2019s mother guide,\nAnd place me by Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s side:\nThere, only there my heart may know\nSome little respite from my woe.\u201d\n\n  The warders of the palace led\nThe monarch, when his words were said,\nTo Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s bower, and there\nLaid him with reverential care.\nBut while he rested on the bed\nStill was his soul disquieted.\nIn grief he tossed his arms on high\nLamenting with a piteous cry:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, R\u00e1ma,\u201d thus said he,\n\u201cMy son, thou hast forsaken me.\nHigh bliss awaits those favoured men\nLeft living in Ayodhy\u00e1 then,\nWhose eyes shall see my son once more\nReturning when the time is o\u2019er.\u201d\nThen came the night, whose hated gloom\nFell on him like the night of doom.\nAt midnight Da\u015baratha cried\nTo Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 by his side:\n\u201cI see thee not, Kau\u015baly\u00e1; lay\nThy gentle hand in mine, I pray.\nWhen R\u00e1ma left his home my sight\nWent with him, nor returns to-night.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIII. Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 saw the monarch lie\nWith drooping frame and failing eye,\nAnd for her banished son distressed\nWith these sad words her lord addressed:\n\u201cKaikey\u00ed, cruel, false, and vile\nHas cast the venom of her guile\nOn R\u00e1ma lord of men, and she\nWill ravage like a snake set free;\nAnd more and more my soul alarm,\nLike a dire serpent bent on harm,\nFor triumph crowns each dark intent,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to the wild is sent.\nAh, were he doomed but here to stray\nBegging his food from day to day,\nOr do, enslaved, Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s will,\nThis were a boon, a comfort still.\nBut she, as chose her cruel hate,\nHas hurled him from his high estate,\nAs Br\u00e1hmans when the moon is new\nCast to the ground the demons\u2019 due.(318)\nThe long-armed hero, like the lord\nOf N\u00e1gas, with his bow and sword\nBegins, I ween, his forest life\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 and his faithful wife.\nAh, how will fare the exiles now,\nWhom, moved by Queen Kaikey\u00ed, thou\nHast sent in forests to abide,\nBred in delights, by woe untried?\nFar banished when their lives are young,\nWith the fair fruit before them hung,\nDeprived of all their rank that suits,\nHow will they live on grain and roots?\nO, that my years of woe were passed,\nAnd the glad hour were come at last\nWhen I shall see my children dear,\nR\u00e1ma, his wife, and Lakshma\u1e47 here!\nWhen shall Ayodhy\u00e1, wild with glee,\nAgain those mighty heroes see,\nAnd decked with wreaths her banners wave\nTo welcome home the true and brave?\nWhen will the beautiful city view\nWith happy eyes the lordly two\nReturning, joyful as the main\nWhen the dear moon is full again?\nWhen, like some mighty bull who leads\nThe cow exulting through the meads,\nWill R\u00e1ma through the city ride,\nStrong-armed, with S\u00edt\u00e1 at his side?\nWhen will ten thousand thousand meet\nAnd crowd Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s royal street,\nAnd grain in joyous welcome throw\nUpon my sons who tame the foe?\nWhen with delight shall youthful bands\nOf Br\u00e1hman maidens in their hands\nBear fruit and flowers in goodly show,\nAnd circling round Ayodhy\u00e1 go?\nWith ripened judgment of a sage,\nAnd godlike in his blooming age,\nWhen shall my virtuous son appear,\nLike kindly rain, our hearts to cheer?\nAh, in a former life, I ween,\nThis hand of mine, most base and mean,\nHas dried the udders of the kine\nAnd left the thirsty calves to pine.\nHence, as the lion robs the cow,\nKaikey\u00ed makes me childless now,\nExulting from her feebler foe\nTo rend the son she cherished so.\nI had but him, in Scripture skilled,\nWith every grace his soul was filled.\nNow not a joy has life to give,\nAnd robbed of him I would not live:\nYea, all my days are dark and drear\nIf he, my darling, be not near,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 brave, my heart to cheer.\nAs for my son I mourn and yearn,\nThe quenchless flames of anguish burn\n  And kill me with the pain,\nAs in the summer\u2019s noontide blaze\nThe glorious Day-God with his rays\n  Consumes the parching plain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIV. Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 ceased her sad lament,\nOf beauteous dames most excellent.\nSumitr\u00e1 who to duty clave,\nIn righteous words this answer gave:\n\u201cDear Queen, all noble virtues grace\nThy son, of men the first in place.\nWhy dost thou shed these tears of woe\nWith bitter grief lamenting so?\nIf R\u00e1ma, leaving royal sway\nHas hastened to the woods away,\n\u2019Tis for his high-souled father\u2019s sake\nThat he his premise may not break.\nHe to the path of duty clings\nWhich lordly fruit hereafter brings\u2014\nThe path to which the righteous cleave\u2014\nFor him, dear Queen, thou shouldst not grieve.\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 too, the blameless-souled,\nThe same high course with him will hold,\nAnd mighty bliss on him shall wait,\nSo tenderly compassionate.\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1, bred with tender care,\nWell knows what toils await her there,\nBut in her love she will not part\nFrom R\u00e1ma of the virtuous heart.\nNow has thy son through all the world\nThe banner of his fame unfurled;\nTrue, modest, careful of his vow,\nWhat has he left to aim at now?\nThe sun will mark his mighty soul,\nHis wisdom, sweetness, self-control,\nWill spare from pain his face and limb,\nAnd with soft radiance shine for him.\nFor him through forest glades shall spring\nA soft auspicious breeze, and bring\nIts tempered heat and cold to play\nAround him ever night and day.\nThe pure cold moonbeams shall delight\nThe hero as he sleeps at night,\nAnd soothe him with the soft caress\nOf a fond parent\u2019s tenderness.\nTo him, the bravest of the brave,\nHis heavenly arms the Br\u00e1hman gave,\nWhen fierce Suv\u00e1hu dyed the plain\nWith his life-blood by R\u00e1ma slain.\nStill trusting to his own right arm\nThy hero son will fear no harm:\nAs in his father\u2019s palace, he\nIn the wild woods will dauntless be.\nWhene\u2019er he lets his arrows fly\nHis stricken foemen fall and die:\nAnd is that prince of peerless worth\nToo weak to keep and sway the earth?\nHis sweet pure soul, his beauty\u2019s charm,\nHis hero heart, his warlike arm,\nWill soon redeem his rightful reign\nWhen from the woods he comes again.\nThe Br\u00e1hmans on the prince\u2019s head\nKing-making drops shall quickly shed,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1, Earth, and Fortune share\nThe glories which await the heir.\nFor him, when forth his chariot swept,\nThe crowd that thronged Ayodhy\u00e1 wept,\nWith agonizing woe distressed.\nWith him in herm\u00edt\u2019s mantle dressed\nIn guise of S\u00edt\u00e1 Lakshm\u00ed went,\nAnd none his glory may prevent.\nYea, naught to him is high or hard,\nBefore whose steps, to be his guard,\nLakshma\u1e47, the best who draws the bow,\nWith spear, shaft, sword rejoiced to go.\nHis wanderings in the forest o\u2019er,\nThine eyes shall see thy son once more,\nQuit thy faint heart, thy grief dispel,\nFor this, O Queen, is truth I tell.\nThy son returning, moonlike, thence,\nShall at thy feet do reverence,\nAnd, blest and blameless lady, thou\nShalt see his head to touch them bow,\nYea, thou shalt see thy son made king\nWhen he returns with triumphing,\nAnd how thy happy eyes will brim\nWith tears of joy to look on him!\nThou, blameless lady, shouldst the whole\nOf the sad people here console:\nWhy in thy tender heart allow\nThis bitter grief to harbour now?\nAs the long banks of cloud distil\nTheir water when they see the hill,\nSo shall the drops of rapture run\nFrom thy glad eyes to see thy son\nReturning, as he lowly bends\nTo greet thee, girt by all his friends.\u201d\n\n  Thus soothing, kindly eloquent,\nWith every hopeful argument\nKau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s heart by sorrow rent,\n  Fair Queen Sumitr\u00e1 ceased.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 heard each pleasant plea,\nAnd grief began to leave her free,\nAs the light clouds of autumn flee,\n  Their watery stores decreased.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLV. The Tamas\u00e1.\n\n\nTheir tender love the people drew\nTo follow R\u00e1ma brave and true,\nThe high-souled hero, as he went\nForth from his home to banishment.\nThe king himself his friends obeyed,\nAnd turned him homeward as they prayed.\nBut yet the people turned not back,\nStill close on R\u00e1ma\u2019s chariot track.\nFor they who in Ayodhy\u00e1 dwelt\nFor him such fond affection felt,\nDecked with all grace and glories high,\nThe dear full moon of every eye.\nThough much his people prayed and wept,\nKakutstha\u2019s son his purpose kept,\nAnd still his journey would pursue\nTo keep the king his father true.\nDeep in the hero\u2019s bosom sank\nTheir love, whose signs his glad eye drank.\nHe spoke to cheer them, as his own\nDear children, in a loving tone:\n\u201cIf ye would grant my fond desire,\nGive Bharat now that love entire\nAnd reverence shown to me by all\nWho dwell within Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s wall.\nFor he, Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s darling son,\nHis virtuous career will run,\nAnd ever bound by duty\u2019s chain\nConsult your weal and bliss and gain.\nIn judgment old, in years a child,\nWith hero virtues meek and mild,\nA fitting lord is he to cheer\nHis people and remove their fear.\nIn him all kingly gifts abound,\nMore noble than in me are found:\nImperial prince, well proved and tried\u2014\nObey him as your lord and guide.\nAnd grant, I pray, the boon I ask:\nTo please the king be still your task,\nThat his fond heart, while I remain\nFar in the wood, may feel no pain.\u201d\n\n  The more he showed his will to tread\nThe path where filial duty led,\nThe more the people, round him thronged,\nFor their dear R\u00e1ma\u2019s empire longed.\nStill more attached his followers grew,\nAs R\u00e1ma, with his brother, drew\nThe people with his virtues\u2019 ties,\nLamenting all with tear-dimmed eyes.\nThe saintly twice-born, triply old\nIn glory, knowledge, seasons told,\nWith hoary heads that shook and bowed,\nTheir voices raised and spake aloud:\n\u201cO steeds, who best and noblest are,\nWho whirl so swiftly R\u00e1ma\u2019s car,\nGo not, return: we call on you:\nBe to your master kind and true.\nFor speechless things are swift to hear,\nAnd naught can match a horse\u2019s ear,\nO generous steeds, return, when thus\nYou hear the cry of all of us.\nEach vow he keeps most firm and sure,\nAnd duty makes his spirit pure.\nBack with our chief! not wood-ward hence;\nBack to his royal residence!\u201d\n\n  Soon as he saw the aged band.\nExclaiming in their misery, stand,\nAnd their sad cries around him rang,\nSwift from his chariot R\u00e1ma sprang.\nThen, still upon his journey bent,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 and with Lakshma\u1e47 went\nThe hero by the old men\u2019s side\nSuiting to theirs his shortened stride.\nHe could not pass the twice-born throng\nAs weariedly they walked along:\nWith pitying heart, with tender eye,\nHe could not in his chariot fly.\nWhen the steps of R\u00e1ma viewed\nThat still his onward course pursued,\nWoe shook the troubled heart of each,\nAnd burnt with grief they spoke this speech\u2014\n\n  \u201cWith thee, O R\u00e1ma, to the wood\nAll Br\u00e1hmans go and Br\u00e1hmanhood:\nBorne on our aged shoulders, see,\nOur fires of worship go with thee.\nBright canopies that lend their shade\nIn V\u00e1japeya(319) rites displayed,\nIn plenteous store are borne behind\nLike cloudlets in the autumn wind.\nNo shelter from the sun hast thou,\nAnd, lest his fury burn thy brow,\nThese sacrificial shades we bear\nShall aid thee in the noontide glare.\nOur hearts, who ever loved to pore\nOn sacred text and Vedic lore,\nNow all to thee, beloved, turn,\nAnd for a life in forests yearn.\nDeep in our aged bosoms lies\nThe Vedas\u2019 lore, the wealth we prize,\nThere still, like wives at home, shall dwell,\nWhose love and truth protect them well.\nTo follow thee our hearts are bent;\nWe need not plan or argument.\nAll else in duty\u2019s law we slight,\nFor following thee is following right.\nO noble Prince, retrace thy way:\nO, hear us, R\u00e1ma, as we lay,\nWith many tears and many prayers,\nOur aged heads and swan-white hairs\nLow in the dust before thy feet;\nO, hear us, R\u00e1ma, we entreat.\nFull many of these who with thee run,\nTheir sacred rites had just begun.\nUnfinished yet those rites remain;\nBut finished if thou turn again.\nAll rooted life and things that move\nTo thee their deep affection prove.\nTo them, when warmed by love, they glow\nAnd sue to thee, some favour show,\nEach lowly bush, each towering tree\nWould follow too for love of thee.\nBound by its root it must remain;\nBut\u2014all it can\u2014its boughs complain,\nAs when the wild wind rushes by\nIt tells its woe in groan and sigh.\nNo more through air the gay birds flit,\nBut, foodless, melancholy sit\nTogether on the branch and call\nTo thee whose kind heart feels for all.\u201d\n\n  As wailed the aged Br\u00e1hmans, bent\nTo turn him back, with wild lament,\nSeemed Tamas\u00e1 herself to aid,\nChecking his progress, as they prayed.\nSumantra from the chariot freed\nWith ready hand each weary steed;\nHe groomed them with the utmost heed,\n\n  Their limbs he bathed and dried,\nThen led them forth to drink and feed\nAt pleasure in the grassy mead\nThat fringed the river side.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVI. The Halt.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma, chief of Raghu\u2019s race,\nArrived at that delightful place,\nHe looked on S\u00edt\u00e1 first, and then\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 spake the lord of men:\n\u201cNow first the shades of night descend\nSince to the wilds our steps we bend.\nJoy to thee, brother! do not grieve\nFor our dear home and all we leave.\nThe woods unpeopled seem to weep\nAround us, as their tenants creep\nOr fly to lair and den and nest,\nBoth bird and beast, to seek their rest.\nMethinks Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s royal town\nWhere dwells my sire of high renown,\nWith all her men and dames to-night\nWill mourn us vanished from their sight.\nFor, by his virtues won, they cling\nIn fond affection to their king,\nAnd thee and me, O brave and true,\nAnd Bharat and \u015aatrughna too.\nI for my sire and mother feel\nDeep sorrow o\u2019er my bosom steal,\nLest mourning us, oppressed with fears,\nThey blind their eyes with endless tears.\nYet Bharat\u2019s duteous love will show\nSweet comfort in their hours of woe,\nAnd with kind words their hearts sustain,\nSuggesting duty, bliss, and gain.\nI mourn my parents now no more:\nI count dear Bharat\u2019s virtues o\u2019er,\nAnd his kind love and care dispel\nThe doubts I had, and all is well.\nAnd thou thy duty wouldst not shun,\nAnd, following me, hast nobly done;\nElse, bravest, I should need a band\nAround my wife as guard to stand.\nOn this first night, my thirst to slake,\nSome water only will I take:\nThus, brother, thus my will decides,\nThough varied store the wood provides.\u201d\n\n  Thus having said to Lakshma\u1e47, he\nAddressed in turn Sumantra: \u201cBe\nMost diligent to-night, my friend,\nAnd with due care thy horses tend.\u201d\nThe sun had set: Sumantra tied\nHis noble horses side by side,\nGave store of grass with liberal hand,\nAnd rested near them on the strand.\nEach paid the holy evening rite,\nAnd when around them fell the night,\nThe charioteer, with Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s aid,\nA lowly bed for R\u00e1ma laid.\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 R\u00e1ma bade adieu,\nAnd then by S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s side he threw\nHis limbs upon the leafy bed\nTheir care upon the bank had spread.\nWhen Lakshma\u1e47 saw the couple slept,\nStill on the strand his watch he kept,\nStill with Sumantra there conversed,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s varied gifts rehearsed.\nAll night he watched, nor sought repose,\nTill on the earth the sun arose:\nWith him Sumantra stayed awake,\nAnd still of R\u00e1ma\u2019s virtues spake.\nThus, near the river\u2019s grassy shore\nWhich herds unnumbered wandered o\u2019er,\nRepose, untroubled, R\u00e1ma found,\nAnd all the people lay around.\nThe glorious hero left his bed,\nLooked on the sleeping crowd, and said\nTo Lakshma\u1e47, whom each lucky line\nMarked out for bliss with surest sign:\n\n  \u201cO brother Lakshma\u1e47, look on these\nReclining at the roots of trees;\nAll care of house and home resigned,\nCaring for us with heart and mind,\nThese people of the city yearn\nTo see us to our home return:\nTo quit their lives will they consent,\nBut never leave their firm intent.\nCome, while they all unconscious sleep,\nLet us upon the chariot leap,\nAnd swiftly on our journey speed\nWhere naught our progress may impede,\nThat these fond citizens who roam\nFar from Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s ancient home,\nNo more may sleep \u2019neath bush and tree,\nFollowing still for love of me.\nA prince with tender care should heal\nThe self-brought woes his people feel,\nAnd never let his subjects share\nThe burthen he is forced to bear.\u201d\n\n  Then Lakshma\u1e47 to the chief replied,\nWho stood like Justice by his side:\n\u201cThy rede, O sage, I well commend:\nWithout delay the car ascend.\u201d\nThen R\u00e1ma to Sumantra spoke:\n\u201cThy rapid steeds, I pray thee, yoke.\nHence to the forest will I go:\nAway, my lord, and be not slow.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra, urged to utmost speed,\nYoked to the car each generous steed,\nAnd then, with hand to hand applied,\nHe came before the chief and cried:\n\u201cHail, Prince, whom mighty arms adorn,\nHail, bravest of the chariot-borne!\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 and thy brother thou\nMayst mount: the car is ready now.\u201d\n\n  The hero clomb the car with haste:\nHis bow and gear within were placed,\nAnd quick the eddying flood he passed\nOf Tamas\u00e1 whose waves run fast.\nSoon as he touched the farther side,\nThat strong-armed hero, glorified,\nHe found a road both wide and clear,\nWhere e\u2019en the timid naught could fear.\nThen, that the crowd might be misled,\nThus R\u00e1ma to Sumantra said:\n\u201cSpeed north a while, then hasten back,\nReturning in thy former track,\nThat so the people may not learn\nThe course I follow: drive and turn.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra, at the chief\u2019s behest,\nQuick to the task himself addressed;\nThen near to R\u00e1ma came, and showed\nThe chariot ready for the road.\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1, then, the princely two,\nWho o\u2019er the line of Raghu threw\nA glory ever bright and new,\n  Upon the chariot stood.\nSumantra fast and faster drove\nHis horses, who in fleetness strove\nStill onward to the distant grove,\n  The hermit-haunted wood.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVII. The Citizens\u2019 Return.\n\n\nThe people, when the morn shone fair,\nArose to find no R\u00e1ma there.\nThen fear and numbing grief subdued\nThe senses of the multitude.\nThe woe-born tears were running fast\nAs all around their eyes they cast,\nAnd sadly looked, but found no trace\nOf R\u00e1ma, searching every place.\nBereft of R\u00e1ma good and wise,\nWith drooping cheer and weeping eyes,\nEach woe-distracted sage gave vent\nTo sorrow in his wild lament:\n\u201cWoe worth the sleep that stole our sense\nWith its beguiling influence,\nThat now we look in vain for him\nOf the broad chest and stalwart limb!\nHow could the strong-armed hero, thus\nDeceiving all, abandon us?\nHis people so devoted see,\nYet to the woods, a hermit, flee?\nHow can he, wont our hearts to cheer,\nAs a fond sire his children dear,\u2014\nHow can the pride of Raghu\u2019s race\nFly from us to some desert place!\nHere let us all for death prepare,\nOr on the last great journey fare;(320)\nOf R\u00e1ma our dear lord bereft,\nWhat profit in our lives is left?\nHuge trunks of trees around us lie,\nWith roots and branches sere and dry,\nCome let us set these logs on fire\nAnd throw our bodies on the pyre.\nWhat shall we speak? How can we say\nWe followed R\u00e1ma on his way,\nThe mighty chief whose arm is strong,\nWho sweetly speaks, who thinks no wrong?\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s town with sorrow dumb,\nWithout our lord will see us come,\nAnd hopeless misery will strike\nElder, and child, and dame alike.\nForth with that peerless chief we came,\nWhose mighty heart is aye the same:\nHow, reft of him we love, shall we\nReturning dare that town to see?\u201d\n\n  Complaining thus with varied cry\nThey tossed their aged arms on high,\nAnd their sad hearts with grief were wrung,\nLike cows who sorrow for their young.\nA while they followed on the road\nWhich traces of his chariot showed,\nBut when at length those traces failed,\nA deep despair their hearts assailed.\nThe chariot marks no more discerned,\nThe hopeless sages backward turned:\n\u201cAh, what is this? What can we more?\nFate stops the way, and all is o\u2019er.\u201d\nWith wearied hearts, in grief and shame\nThey took the road by which they came,\nAnd reached Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s city, where\nFrom side to side was naught but care.\nWith troubled spirits quite cast down\nThey looked upon the royal town,\nAnd from their eyes, oppressed with woe,\nTheir tears again began to flow.\nOf R\u00e1ma reft, the city wore\nNo look of beauty as before,\nLike a dull river or a lake\nBy Garu\u1e0d robbed of every snake.\nDark, dismal as the moonless sky,\nOr as a sea whose bed is dry,\nSo sad, to every pleasure dead,\nThey saw the town, disquieted.\nOn to their houses, high and vast,\nWhere stores of precious wealth were massed,\nThe melancholy Br\u00e1hmans passed,\n  Their hearts with anguish cleft:\nAloof from all, they came not near\nTo stranger or to kinsman dear,\nShowing in faces blank and drear\n  That not one joy was left.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVIII. The Women\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nWhen those who forth with R\u00e1ma went\nBack to the town their steps had bent,\nIt seemed that death had touched and chilled\nThose hearts which piercing sorrow filled.\nEach to his several mansion came,\nAnd girt by children and his dame,\nFrom his sad eyes the water shed\nThat o\u2019er his cheek in torrents spread.\nAll joy was fled: oppressed with cares\nNo bustling trader showed his wares.\nEach shop had lost its brilliant look,\nEach householder forbore to cook.\nNo hand with joy its earnings told,\nNone cared to win a wealth of gold,\nAnd scarce the youthful mother smiled\nTo see her first, her new-born child.\nIn every house a woman wailed,\nAnd her returning lord assailed\nWith keen taunt piercing like the steel\nThat bids the tusked monster kneel:\n\u201cWhat now to them is wedded dame,\nWhat house and home and dearest aim,\nOr son, or bliss, or gathered store,\nWhose eyes on R\u00e1ma look no more!\nThere is but one in all the earth,\nOne man alone of real worth,\nLakshma\u1e47, who follows, true and good,\nR\u00e1ma, with S\u00edt\u00e1, through the wood.\nMade holy for all time we deem\nEach pool and fountain, lake and stream,\nIf great Kakutstha\u2019s son shall choose\nTheir water for his bath to use.\nEach forest, dark with lovely trees,\nShall yearn Kakutstha\u2019s son to please;\nEach mountain peak and woody hill,\nEach mighty flood and mazy rill,\nEach rocky height, each shady grove\nWhere the blest feet of R\u00e1ma rove,\nShall gladly welcome with the best\nOf all they have their honoured guest.\nThe trees that clustering blossoms bear,\nAnd bright-hued buds to gem their hair,\nThe heart of R\u00e1ma shall delight,\nAnd cheer him on the breezy height.\nFor him the upland slopes will show\nThe fairest roots and fruit that grow,\nAnd all their wealth before him fling\nEre the due hour of ripening.\nFor him each earth-upholding hill\nIts crystal water shall distil,\nAnd all its floods shall be displayed\nIn many a thousand-hued cascade.\nWhere R\u00e1ma stands is naught to fear,\nNo danger comes if he be near;\nFor all who live on him depend,\nThe world\u2019s support, and lord, and friend.\nEre in too distant wilds he stray,\nLet us to R\u00e1ma speed away,\nFor rich reward on those will wait\nWho serve a prince of soul so great.\nWe will attend on S\u00edt\u00e1 there;\nBe Raghu\u2019s son your special care.\u201d\n\nThe city dames, with grief distressed,\nThus once again their lords addressed:\n\u201cR\u00e1ma shall be your guard and guide,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 will for us provide.\nFor who would care to linger here,\nWhere all is sad and dark and drear?\nWho, mid the mourners, hope for bliss\nIn a poor soulless town like this?\nIf Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s treacherous sin,\nOur lord expelled, the kingdom win,\nWe heed not sons or golden store,\nOur life itself we prize no more.\nIf she, seduced by lust of sway,\nHer lord and son could cast away,\nWhom would she leave unharmed, the base\nDefiler of her royal race?\nWe swear it by our children dear,\nWe will not dwell as servants here;\nIf Queen Kaikey\u00ed live to reign,\nWe will not in her realm remain.\nBowed down by her oppressive hand,\nThe helpless, lordless, godless land,\nCursed for Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s guilt will fall,\nAnd swift destruction seize it all.\nFor, R\u00e1ma forced from home to fly,\nThe king his sire will surely die,\nAnd when the king has breathed his last\nRuin will doubtless follow fast.\nSad, robbed of merits, drug the cup\nAnd drink the poisoned mixture up,\nOr share the exiled R\u00e1ma\u2019s lot,\nOr seek some land that knows her not.\nNo reason, but a false pretence\nDrove R\u00e1ma, S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47 hence,\nAnd we to Bharat have been given\nLike cattle to the shambles driven.\u201d\n\n  While in each house the women, pained\nAt loss of R\u00e1ma, still complained,\nSank to his rest the Lord of Day,\nAnd night through all the sky held sway.\nThe fires of worship all were cold,\nNo text was hummed, no tale was told,\nAnd shades of midnight gloom came down\nEnveloping the mournful town.\nStill, sick at heart, the women shed,\nAs for a son or husband fled,\nFor R\u00e1ma tears, disquieted:\n  No child was loved as he.\nAnd all Ayodhy\u00e1, where the feast,\nMusic, and song, and dance had ceased,\n  And merriment and glee,\nWhere every merchant\u2019s store was closed\nThat erst its glittering wares exposed,\n  Was like a dried up sea.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIX. The Crossing Of The Rivers.\n\n\nNow R\u00e1ma, ere the night was fled,\nO\u2019er many a league of road had sped,\nTill, as his course he onward held,\nThe morn the shades of night dispelled.\nThe rites of holy dawn he paid,\nAnd all the country round surveyed.\nHe saw, as still he hurried through\nWith steeds which swift as arrows flew,\nHamlets and groves with blossoms fair,\nAnd fields which showed the tillers\u2019 care,\nWhile from the clustered dwellings near\nThe words of peasants reached his ear:\n\u201cFie on our lord the king, whose soul\nIs yielded up to love\u2019s control!\nFie on the vile Kaikey\u00ed! Shame\nOn that malicious sinful dame,\nWho, keenly bent on cruel deeds,\nNo bounds of right and virtue heeds,\nBut with her wicked art has sent\nSo good a prince to banishment,\nWise, tender-hearted, ruling well\nHis senses, in the woods to dwell.\nAh cruel king! his heart of steel\nFor his own son no love could feel,\nWho with the sinless R\u00e1ma parts,\nThe darling of the people\u2019s hearts.\u201d\n\n  These words he heard the peasants say,\nWho dwelt in hamlets by the way,\nAnd, lord of all the realm by right,\nThrough Ko\u015bala pursued his flight.\nThrough the auspicious flood, at last,\nOf Veda\u015brut\u00ed\u2019s stream he passed,\nAnd onward to the place he sped\nBy Saint Agastya tenanted.\nStill on for many an hour he hied,\nAnd crossed the stream whose cooling tide\nRolls onward till she meets the sea,\nThe herd-frequented Gomat\u00ed.(321)\nBorne by his rapid horses o\u2019er,\nHe reached that river\u2019s further shore.\nAnd Syandik\u00e1\u2019s, whose swan-loved stream\nResounded with the peacock\u2019s scream.\nThen as he journeyed on his road\nTo his Videhan bride he showed\nThe populous land which Manu old\nTo King Ikshv\u00e1ku gave to hold.\nThe glorious prince, the lord of men\nLooked on the charioteer, and then\nVoiced like a wild swan, loud and clear,\nHe spake these words and bade him hear:\n\u201cWhen shall I, with returning feet\nMy father and my mother meet?\nWhen shall I lead the hunt once more\nIn bloomy woods on Sarj\u00fa\u2019s shore?\nMost eagerly I long to ride\nUrging the chase on Sarj\u00fa\u2019s side.\nFor royal saints have seen no blame\nIn this, the monarch\u2019s matchless game.\u201d\n\n  Thus speeding on,\u2014no rest or stay,\u2014\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son pursued his way.\nOft his sweet voice the silence broke,\nAnd thus on varied themes he spoke.\n\n\n\n\nCanto L. The Halt Under The Ingud\u00ed.(322)\n\n\nSo through the wide and fair extent\nOf Ko\u015bala the hero went.\nThen toward Ayodhy\u00e1 back he gazed,\nAnd cried, with suppliant hands upraised:\n\u201cFarewell, dear city, first in place,\nProtected by Kakutstha\u2019s race!\nAnd Gods, who in thy temples dwell,\nAnd keep thine ancient citadel!\nI from his debt my sire will free,\nThy well-loved towers again will see,\nAnd, coming from my wild retreat,\nMy mother and my father meet.\u201d\n\nThen burning grief inflamed his eye,\nAs his right arm he raised on high,\nAnd, while hot tears his cheek bedewed,\nAddressed the mournful multitude:\n\u201cBy love and tender pity moved,\nYour love for me you well have proved;\nNow turn again with joy, and win\nSuccess in all your hands begin.\u201d\n\n  Before the high souled chief they bent,\nWith circling steps around him went,\nAnd then with bitter wailing, they\nDeparted each his several way.\nLike the great sun engulfed by night,\nThe hero sped beyond their sight,\nWhile still the people mourned his fate\nAnd wept aloud disconsolate.\nThe car-borne chieftain passed the bound\nOf Ko\u015bala\u2019s delightful ground,\nWhere grain and riches bless the land,\nAnd people give with liberal hand:\nA lovely realm unvexed by fear,\nWhere countless shrines and stakes(323) appear:\nWhere mango-groves and gardens grow,\nAnd streams of pleasant water flow:\nWhere dwells content a well-fed race,\nAnd countless kine the meadows grace:\nFilled with the voice of praise and prayer:\nEach hamlet worth a monarch\u2019s care.\nBefore him three-pathed Gang\u00e1 rolled\nHer heavenly waters bright and cold;\nO\u2019er her pure breast no weeds were spread,\nHer banks were hermit-visited.\nThe car-borne hero saw the tide\nThat ran with eddies multiplied,\nAnd thus the charioteer addressed:\n\u201cHere on the bank to-day we rest.\nNot distant from the river, see!\nThere grows a lofty Ingud\u00ed\nWith blossoms thick on every spray:\nThere rest we, charioteer, to-day.\nI on the queen of floods will gaze,\nWhose holy stream has highest praise,\nWhere deer, and bird, and glittering snake,\nGod, Daitya, bard their pastime take.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra, Lakshma\u1e47 gave assent,\nAnd with the steeds they thither went.\nWhen R\u00e1ma reached the lovely tree,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 and with Lakshma\u1e47, he\nAlighted from the car: with speed\nSumantra loosed each weary steed.\nAnd, hand to hand in reverence laid,\nStood near to R\u00e1ma in the shade.\nR\u00e1ma\u2019s dear friend, renowned by fame,\nWho of Nish\u00e1da lineage came,\nGuha, the mighty chief, adored\nThrough all the land as sovereign lord,\nSoon as he heard that prince renowned\nWas resting on Nish\u00e1da ground,\nBegirt by counsellor and peer\nAnd many an honoured friend drew near.\nSoon as the monarch came in view,\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 toward him flew.\nThen Guha, at the sight distressed,\nHis arms around the hero pressed,\nLaid both his hands upon his head\nBowed to those lotus feet, and said:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, make thy wishes known,\nAnd be this kingdom as thine own.\nWho, mighty-armed, will ever see\nA guest so dear as thou to me?\u201d\n\n  He placed before him dainty fare\nOf every flavour, rich and rare,\nBrought forth the gift for honoured guest,\nAnd thus again the chief addressed:\n\u201cWelcome, dear Prince, whose arms are strong;\nThese lands and all to thee belong.\nThy servants we, our lord art thou;\nBegin, good king, thine empire now.\nSee, various food before thee placed,\nAnd cups to drink and sweets to taste\nFor thee soft beds are hither borne,\nAnd for thy horses grass and corn.\u201d\n\n  To Guha as he pressed and prayed,\nThus Raghu\u2019s son his answer made:\n\u201c\u2019Twas aye thy care my heart to please\nWith honour, love, and courtesies,\nAnd friendship brings thee now to greet\nThy guest thus humbly on thy feet.\u201d\n\n  Again the hero spake, as round\nThe king his shapely arms he wound:\n\u201cGuha, I see that all is well\nWith thee and those who with thee dwell;\nThat health and bliss and wealth attend\nThy realm, thyself, and every friend.\nBut all these friendly gifts of thine,\nBound to refuse, I must decline.\nGrass, bark, and hide my only wear,\nAnd woodland roots and fruit my fare,\nOn duty all my heart is set;\nI seek the woods, an anchoret.\nA little grass and corn to feed\nThe horses\u2014this is all I need.\nSo by this favour, King, alone\nShall honour due to me be shown.\nFor these good steeds who brought me here\nAre to my sire supremely dear;\nAnd kind attention paid to these\nWill honour me and highly please.\u201d\n\n  Then Guha quickly bade his train\nGive water to the steeds, and grain.\nAnd R\u00e1ma, ere the night grew dark,\nPaid evening rites in dress of bark,\nAnd tasted water, on the strand,\nDrawn from the stream by Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s hand.\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 with observance meet\nBathed his beloved brother\u2019s feet,\nWho rested with his Maithil spouse:\nThen sat him down \u2019neath distant boughs.\nAnd Guha with his bow sat near\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 and the charioteer,\nAnd with the prince conversing kept\nHis faithful watch while R\u00e1ma slept.\nAs Da\u015baratha\u2019s glorious heir,\nOf lofty soul and wisdom rare,\nReclining with his S\u00edt\u00e1 there\n  Beside the river lay\u2014\nHe who no troubles e\u2019er had seen,\nWhose life a life of bliss had been\u2014\nThat night beneath the branches green\n  Passed pleasantly away.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LI. Lakshman\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nAs Lakshma\u1e47 still his vigil held\nBy unaffected love impelled,\nGuha, whose heart the sight distressed,\nWith words like these the prince addressed:\n\u201cBeloved youth, this pleasant bed\nWas brought for thee, for thee is spread;\nOn this, my Prince, thine eyelids close,\nAnd heal fatigue with sweet repose.\nMy men are all to labour trained,\nBut hardship thou hast ne\u2019er sustained.\nAll we this night our watch will keep\nAnd guard Kakutstha\u2019s son asleep.\nIn all the world there breathes not one\nMore dear to me than Raghu\u2019s son.\nThe words I speak, heroic youth,\nAre true: I swear it by my truth.\nThrough his dear grace supreme renown\nWill, so I trust, my wishes crown.\nSo shall my life rich store obtain\nOf merit, blest with joy and gain.\nWhile Raghu\u2019s son and S\u00edt\u00e1 lie\nEntranced in happy slumber, I\nWill, with my trusty bow in hand,\nGuard my dear friend with all my band.\nTo me, who oft these forests range,\nIs naught therein or new or strange.\nWe could with equal might oppose\nA four-fold army led by foes.\u201d\n\n  Then royal Lakshma\u1e47 made reply:\n\u201cWith thee to stand as guardian nigh,\nWhose faithful soul regards the right,\nFearless we well might rest to-night.\nBut how, when R\u00e1ma lays his head\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 on his lowly bed,\u2014\nHow can I sleep? how can I care\nFor life, or aught that\u2019s bright and fair?\nBehold the conquering chief, whose might\nIs match for Gods and fiends in fight;\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 now he rests his head\nAsleep on grass beneath him spread.\nWon by devotion, text, and prayer,\nAnd many a rite performed with care,\nChief of our father\u2019s sons he shines\nWell marked, like him, with favouring signs.\nBrief, brief the monarch\u2019s life will be\nNow his dear son is forced to flee;\nAnd quickly will the widowed state\nMourn for her lord disconsolate.\nEach mourner there has wept her fill;\nThe cries of anguish now are still:\nIn the king\u2019s hall each dame, o\u2019ercome\nWith weariness of woe is dumb.\nThis first sad night of grief, I ween,\nWill do to death each sorrowing queen:\nScarce is Kau\u015baly\u00e1 left alive;\nMy mother, too, can scarce survive.\nIf when her heart is fain to break,\nShe lingers for \u015aatrughna\u2019s sake,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, mother of the chief,\nMust sink beneath the chilling grief.\nThat town which countless thousands fill,\nWhose hearts with love of R\u00e1ma thrill,\u2014\nThe world\u2019s delight, so rich and fair,\u2014\nGrieved for the king, his death will share.\nThe hopes he fondly cherished, crossed\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s throne to R\u00e1ma lost,\u2014\nWith mournful cries, Too late, too late!\nThe king my sire will meet his fate.\nAnd when my sire has passed away,\nMost happy in their lot are they,\nAllowed, with every pious care,\nPart in his funeral rites to bear.\nAnd O, may we with joy at last,\u2014\nThese years of forest exile past,\u2014\nTurn to Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town to dwell\nWith him who keeps his promise well!\u201d\n\n  While thus the hero mighty-souled,\nIn wild lament his sorrow told,\nFaint with the load that on him lay,\nThe hours of darkness passed away.\nAs thus the prince, impelled by zeal\nFor his loved brother, prompt to feel\nStrong yearnings for the people\u2019s weal,\n  His words of truth outspake,\nKing Guha grieved to see his woe,\nHeart-stricken, gave his tears to flow,\nTormented by the common blow,\n  Sad, as a wounded snake.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LII. The Crossing Of Gang\u00e1.\n\n\nSoon as the shades of night had fled,\nUprising from his lowly bed,\nR\u00e1ma the famous, broad of chest,\nHis brother Lakshma\u1e47 thus addressed:\n\u201cNow swift upsprings the Lord of Light,\nAnd fled is venerable night.\nThat dark-winged bird the Ko\u00efl now\nIs calling from the topmost bough,\nAnd sounding from the thicket nigh\nIs heard the peacock\u2019s early cry.\nCome, cross the flood that seeks the sea,\nThe swiftly flowing J\u00e1hnav\u00ed.\u201d(324)\n\n  King Guha heard his speech, agreed,\nAnd called his minister with speed:\n\u201cA boat,\u201d he cried, \u201cswift, strong, and fair,\nWith rudder, oars, and men, prepare,\nAnd place it ready by the shore\nTo bear the pilgrims quickly o\u2019er.\u201d\nThus Guha spake: his followers all\nBestirred them at their master\u2019s call;\nThen told the king that ready manned\nA gay boat waited near the strand.\nThen Guha, hand to hand applied,\nWith reverence thus to R\u00e1ma cried:\n\u201cThe boat is ready by the shore:\nHow, tell me, can I aid thee more?\nO lord of men, it waits for thee\nTo cross the flood that seeks the sea.\nO godlike keeper of thy vow,\nEmbark: the boat is ready now.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, lord of glory high,\nThus to King Guha made reply:\n\u201cThanks for thy gracious care, my lord:\nNow let the gear be placed on board.\u201d\nEach bow-armed chief, in mail encased,\nBound sword and quiver to his waist,\nAnd then with S\u00edt\u00e1 near them hied\nDown the broad river\u2019s shelving side.\nThen with raised palms the charioteer,\nIn lowly reverence drawing near,\nCried thus to R\u00e1ma good and true:\n\u201cNow what remains for me to do?\u201d\n  With his right hand, while answering\n    The hero touched his friend:\n  \u201cGo back,\u201d he said, \u201cand on the king\n    With watchful care attend.\nThus far, Sumantra, thou wast guide;\nNow to Ayodhy\u00e1 turn,\u201d he cried:\n\u201cHence seek we leaving steeds and car,\nOn foot the wood that stretches far.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra, when, with grieving heart,\nHe heard the hero bid him part,\nThus to the bravest of the brave,\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son, his answer gave:\n\u201cIn all the world men tell of naught,\nTo match thy deed, by heroes wrought\u2014\nThus with thy brother and thy wife\nThrall-like to lead a forest life.\nNo meet reward of fruit repays\nThy holy lore, thy saintlike days,\nThy tender soul, thy love of truth,\nIf woe like this afflicts thy youth.\nThou, roaming under forest boughs\nWith thy dear brother and thy spouse\nShalt richer meed of glory gain\nThan if three worlds confessed thy reign.\nSad is our fate, O R\u00e1ma: we,\nAbandoned and repelled by thee,\nMust serve as thralls Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s will,\nImperious, wicked, born to ill.\u201d\n\n  Thus cried the faithful charioteer,\nAs Raghu\u2019s son, in rede his peer,\nWas fast departing on his road,\u2014\nAnd long his tears of anguish flowed.\nBut R\u00e1ma, when those tears were dried\nHis lips with water purified,\nAnd in soft accents, sweet and clear,\nAgain addressed the charioteer:\n\u201cI find no heart, my friend, like thine,\nSo faithful to Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line.\nStill first in view this object keep,\nThat ne\u2019er for me my sire may weep.\nFor he, the world\u2019s far-ruling king,\nIs old, and wild with sorrow\u2019s sting;\nWith love\u2019s great burthen worn and weak:\nDeem this the cause that thus I speak\nWhate\u2019er the high-souled king decrees\nHis loved Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s heart to please,\nYea, be his order what it may,\nWithout demur thou must obey,\nFor this alone great monarchs reign,\nThat ne\u2019er a wish be formed in vain.\nThen, O Sumantra, well provide\nThat by no check the king be tried:\nNor let his heart in sorrow pine:\nThis care, my faithful friend, be thine.\nThe honoured king my father greet,\nAnd thus for me my words repeat\nTo him whose senses are controlled,\nUntired till now by grief, and old;\n\u201cI, S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47 sorrow not,\nO Monarch, for our altered lot:\nThe same to us, if here we roam,\nOr if Ayodhy\u00e1 be our home,\nThe fourteen years will quickly fly,\nThe happy hour will soon be nigh\nWhen thou, my lord, again shalt see\nLakshma\u1e47, the Maithil dame, and me.\u201d\nThus having soothed, O charioteer,\nMy father and my mother dear,\nLet all the queens my message learn,\nBut to Kaikey\u00ed chiefly turn.\nWith loving blessings from the three,\nFrom Lakshma\u1e47, S\u00edt\u00e1, and from me,\nMy mother, Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1, greet\nWith reverence to her sacred feet.\nAnd add this prayer of mine: \u201cO King;\nSend quickly forth and Bharat bring,\nAnd set him on the royal throne\nWhich thy decree has made his own.\nWhen he upon the throne is placed,\nWhen thy fond arms are round him laced,\nThine aged heart will cease to ache\nWith bitter pangs for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake.\u201d\nAnd say to Bharat: \u201cSee thou treat\nThe queens with all observance meet:\nWhat care the king receives, the same\nShow thou alike to every dame.\nObedience to thy father\u2019s will\nWho chooses thee the throne to fill,\nWill earn for thee a store of bliss\nBoth in the world to come and this.\u2019 \u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma bade Sumantra go\nWith thoughtful care instructed so.\nSumantra all his message heard,\nAnd spake again, by passion stirred:\n\u201cO, should deep feeling mar in aught\nThe speech by fond devotion taught,\nForgive whate\u2019er I wildly speak:\nMy love is strong, my tongue is weak.\nHow shall I, if deprived of thee,\nReturn that mournful town to see:\nWhere sick at heart the people are\nBecause their R\u00e1ma roams afar.\nWoe will be theirs too deep to brook\nWhen on the empty car they look,\nAs when from hosts, whose chiefs are slain,\nOne charioteer comes home again.\nThis very day, I ween, is food\nForsworn by all the multitude,\nThinking that thou, with hosts to aid,\nArt dwelling in the wild wood\u2019s shade.\nThe great despair, the shriek of woe\nThey uttered when they saw thee go,\nWill, when I come with none beside,\nA hundred-fold be multiplied.\nHow to Kau\u015baly\u00e1 can I say:\n\u201cO Queen, I took thy son away,\nAnd with thy brother left him well:\nWeep not for him; thy woe dispel?\u201d\nSo false a tale I cannot frame,\nYet how speak truth and grieve the dame?\nHow shall these horses, fleet and bold,\nWhom not a hand but mine can hold,\nBear others, wont to whirl the car\nWherein Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s children are!\nWithout thee, Prince, I cannot, no,\nI cannot to Ayodhy\u00e1 go.\nThen deign, O R\u00e1ma, to relent,\nAnd let me share thy banishment.\nBut if no prayers can move thy heart,\nIf thou wilt quit me and depart,\nThe flames shall end my car and me,\nDeserted thus and reft of thee.\nIn the wild wood when foes are near,\nWhen dangers check thy vows austere,\nBorne in my car will I attend,\nAll danger and all care to end.\nFor thy dear sake I love the skill\nThat guides the steed and curbs his will:\nAnd soon a forest life will be\nAs pleasant, for my love of thee.\nAnd if these horses near thee dwell,\nAnd serve thee in the forest well,\nThey, for their service, will not miss\nThe due reward of highest bliss.\nThine orders, as with thee I stray,\nWill I with heart and head obey,\nPrepared, for thee, without a sigh,\nTo lose Ayodhy\u00e1 or the sky.\nAs one defiled with hideous sin,\nI never more can pass within\nAyodhy\u00e1, city of our king,\nUnless beside me thee I bring.\nOne wish is mine, I ask no more,\nThat, when thy banishment is o\u2019er\nI in my car may bear my lord,\nTriumphant, to his home restored.\nThe fourteen years, if spent with thee,\nWill swift as light-winged moments flee;\nBut the same years, without thee told,\nWere magnified a hundred-fold.\nDo not, kind lord, thy servant leave,\nWho to his master\u2019s son would cleave,\nAnd the same path with him pursue,\nDevoted, tender, just and true.\u201d\n\n  Again, again Sumantra made\nHis varied plaint, and wept and prayed.\nHim Raghu\u2019s son, whose tender breast\nFelt for his servants, thus addressed:\n\u201cO faithful servant, well my heart\nKnows how attached and true thou art.\nHear thou the words I speak, and know\nWhy to the town I bid thee go.\nSoon as Kaikey\u00ed, youngest queen,\nThy coming to the town has seen,\nNo doubt will then her mind oppress\nThat R\u00e1ma roams the wilderness.\nAnd so the dame, her heart content\nWith proof of R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment,\nWill doubt the virtuous king no more\nAs faithless to the oath he swore.\nChief of my cares is this, that she,\nYoungest amid the queens, may see\nBharat her son securely reign\nO\u2019er rich Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s wide domain.\nFor mine and for the monarch\u2019s sake\nDo thou thy journey homeward take,\nAnd, as I bade, repeat each word\nThat from my lips thou here hast heard.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the prince, and strove to cheer\nThe sad heart of the charioteer,\nAnd then to royal Guha said\nThese words most wise and spirited:\n\u201cGuha, dear friend, it is not meet\nThat people throng my calm retreat:\nFor I must live a strict recluse,\nAnd mould my life by hermits\u2019 use.\nI now the ancient rule accept\nBy good ascetics gladly kept.\nI go: bring fig-tree juice that I\nIn matted coils my hair may tie.\u201d\n\n  Quick Guha hastened to produce,\nFor the king\u2019s son, that sacred juice.\nThen R\u00e1ma of his long locks made,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s too, the hermit braid.\nAnd the two royal brothers there\nWith coats of bark and matted hair,\nTransformed in lovely likeness stood\nTo hermit saints who love the wood.\nSo R\u00e1ma, with his brother bold,\nA pious anchorite enrolled,\nObeyed the vow which hermits take,\nAnd to his friend, King Guha, spake:\n\u201cMay people, treasure, army share,\nAnd fenced forts, thy constant care:\nAttend to all: supremely hard\nThe sovereign\u2019s task, to watch and guard.\u201d\n\n  Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son, the good and brave,\nThis last farewell to Guha gave,\nAnd then, with Lakshma\u1e47 and his bride,\nDetermined, on his way he hied.\nSoon as he viewed, upon the shore,\nThe bark prepared to waft them o\u2019er\nImpetuous Gang\u00e1\u2019s rolling tide,\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 thus the chieftain cried:\n\u201cBrother, embark; thy hand extend,\nThy gentle aid to S\u00edt\u00e1 lend:\nWith care her trembling footsteps guide,\nAnd place the lady by thy side.\u201d\nWhen Lakshma\u1e47 heard, prepared to aid,\nHis brother\u2019s words he swift obeyed.\nWithin the bark he placed the dame,\nThen to her side the hero came.\nNext Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s elder brother, lord\nOf brightest glory, when on board,\nBreathing a prayer for blessings, meet\nFor priest or warrior to repeat,\nThen he and car-borne Lakshma\u1e47 bent,\nWell-pleased, their heads, most reverent,\nTheir hands, with S\u00edt\u00e1, having dipped,\nAs Scripture bids, and water sipped,\nFarewell to wise Sumantra said,\nAnd Guha, with the train he led.\nSo R\u00e1ma took, on board, his stand,\nAnd urged the vessel from the land.\nThen swift by vigorous arms impelled\nHer onward course the vessel held,\nAnd guided by the helmsman through\nThe dashing waves of Gang\u00e1 flew.\nHalf way across the flood they came,\nWhen S\u00edt\u00e1, free from spot and blame,\nHer reverent hands together pressed,\nThe Goddess of the stream addressed:\n\u201cMay the great chieftain here who springs\nFrom Da\u015baratha, best of kings,\nProtected by thy care, fulfil\nHis prudent father\u2019s royal will.\nWhen in the forest he has spent\nHis fourteen years of banishment,\nWith his dear brother and with me\nHis home again my lord shall see.\nReturning on that blissful day,\nI will to thee mine offerings pay,\nDear Queen, whose waters gently flow,\nWho canst all blessed gifts bestow.\nFor, three-pathed Queen, though wandering here,\nThy waves descend from Brahm\u00e1\u2019s sphere,\nSpouse of the God o\u2019er floods supreme,\nThough rolling here thy glorious stream.\nTo thee, fair Queen, my head shall bend,\nTo thee shall hymns of praise ascend,\nWhen my brave lord shall turn again,\nAnd, joyful, o\u2019er his kingdom reign.\nTo win thy grace, O Queen divine,\nA hundred thousand fairest kine,\nAnd precious robes and finest meal\nAmong the Br\u00e1hmans will I deal.\nA hundred jars of wine shall flow,\nWhen to my home, O Queen, I go;\nWith these, and flesh, and corn, and rice,\nWill I, delighted, sacrifice.\nEach hallowed spot, each holy shrine\nThat stands on these fair shores of thine,\nEach fane and altar on thy banks\nShall share my offerings and thanks.\nWith me and Lakshma\u1e47, free from harm,\nMay he the blameless, strong of arm,\nReseek Ayodhy\u00e1 from the wild,\nO blameless Lady undefiled!\u201d\n\n  As, praying for her husband\u2019s sake,\nThe faultless dame to Gang\u00e1 spake,\nTo the right bank the vessel flew\nWith her whose heart was right and true.\nSoon as the bark had crossed the wave,\nThe lion leader of the brave,\nLeaving the vessel on the strand,\nWith wife and brother leapt to land.\nThen R\u00e1ma thus the prince addressed\nWho filled with joy Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s breast:\n\u201cBe thine alike to guard and aid\nIn peopled spot, in lonely shade.\nDo thou, Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, precede:\nLet S\u00edt\u00e1 walk where thou shalt lead.\nBehind you both my place shall be,\nTo guard the Maithil dame and thee.\nFor she, to woe a stranger yet,\nNo toil or grief till now has met;\nThe fair Videhan will assay\nThe pains of forest life to-day.\nTo-day her tender feet must tread\nRough rocky wilds around her spread:\nNo tilth is there, no gardens grow,\nNo crowding people come and go.\u201d\n\n  The hero ceased: and Lakshma\u1e47 led\nObedient to the words he said:\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 followed him, and then\nCame Raghu\u2019s pride, the lord of men.\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 walking o\u2019er the sand\nThey sought the forest, bow in hand,\nBut still their lingering glances threw\nWhere yet Sumantra stood in view.\nSumantra, when his watchful eye\nThe royal youths no more could spy,\nTurned from the spot whereon he stood\nHomeward with Guha from the wood.\nStill on the brothers forced their way\nWhere sweet birds sang on every spray,\nThough scarce the eye a path could find\nMid flowering trees where creepers twined.\nFar on the princely brothers pressed,\nAnd stayed their feet at length to rest\nBeneath a fig tree\u2019s mighty shade\nWith countless pendent shoots displayed.\nReclining there a while at ease,\nThey saw, not far, beneath fair trees\nA lake with many a lotus bright\nThat bore the name of Lovely Sight.\nR\u00e1ma his wife\u2019s attention drew,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s, to the charming view:\n\u201cLook, brother, look how fair the flood\nGlows with the lotus, flower and bud!\u201d\n\n  They drank the water fresh and clear,\nAnd with their shafts they slew a deer.\nA fire of boughs they made in haste,\nAnd in the flame the meat they placed.\nSo Raghu\u2019s sons with S\u00edt\u00e1 shared\nThe hunter\u2019s meal their hands prepared,\nThen counselled that the spreading tree\nTheir shelter and their home should be.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nWhen evening rites were duly paid,\nReclined beneath the leafy shade,\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 thus spake R\u00e1ma, best\nOf those who glad a people\u2019s breast:\n\u201cNow the first night has closed the day\nThat saw us from our country stray,\nAnd parted from the charioteer;\nYet grieve not thou, my brother dear.\nHenceforth by night, when others sleep,\nMust we our careful vigil keep,\nWatching for S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s welfare thus,\nFor her dear life depends on us.\nBring me the leaves that lie around,\nAnd spread them here upon the ground,\nThat we on lowly beds may lie,\nAnd let in talk the night go by.\u201d\n\n  So on the ground with leaves o\u2019erspread,\nHe who should press a royal bed,\nR\u00e1ma with Lakshma\u1e47 thus conversed,\nAnd many a pleasant tale rehearsed:\n\u201cThis night the king,\u201d he cried, \u201calas!\nIn broken sleep will sadly pass.\nKaikey\u00ed now content should be,\nFor mistress of her wish is she.\nSo fiercely she for empire yearns,\nThat when her Bharat home returns,\nShe in her greed, may even bring\nDestruction on our lord the king.\nWhat can he do, in feeble eld,\nReft of all aid and me expelled,\nHis soul enslaved by love, a thrall\nObedient to Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s call?\nAs thus I muse upon his woe\nAnd all his wisdoms overthrow,\nLove is, methinks, of greater might\nTo stir the heart than gain and right.\nFor who, in wisdom\u2019s lore untaught,\nCould by a beauty\u2019s prayer be bought\nTo quit his own obedient son,\nWho loves him, as my sire has done!\nBharat, Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s child, alone\nWill, with his wife, enjoy the throne,\nAnd blissfully his rule maintain\nO\u2019er happy Ko\u015bala\u2019s domain.\nTo Bharat\u2019s single lot will fall\nThe kingdom and the power and all,\nWhen fails the king from length of days,\nAnd R\u00e1ma in the forest strays.\nWhoe\u2019er, neglecting right and gain,\nLets conquering love his soul enchain,\nTo him, like Da\u015baratha\u2019s lot,\nComes woe with feet that tarry not.\nMethinks at last the royal dame,\nDear Lakshma\u1e47, has secured her aim,\nTo see at once her husband dead,\nHer son enthroned, and R\u00e1ma fled.\nAh me! I fear, lest borne away\nBy frenzy of success, she slay\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, through her wicked hate\nOf me, bereft, disconsolate;\nOr her who aye for me has striven\nSumitr\u00e1, to devotion given.\nHence, Lakshma\u1e47, to Ayodhy\u00e1 speed,\nReturning in the hour of need.\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 I my steps will bend\nWhere Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s mighty woods extend.\nNo guardian has Kau\u015baly\u00e1 now:\nO, be her friend and guardian thou.\nStrong hate may vile Kaikey\u00ed lead\nTo many a base unrighteous deed,\nTreading my mother \u2019neath her feet\nWhen Bharat holds the royal seat.\nSure in some antenatal time\nWere children, by Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s crime,\nTorn from their mothers\u2019 arms away,\nAnd hence she mourns this evil day.\nShe for her child no toil would spare\nTending me long with pain and care;\nNow in the hour of fruitage she\nHas lost that son, ah, woe is me.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, may no matron e\u2019er\nA son so doomed to sorrow bear\nAs I, my mother\u2019s heart who rend\nWith anguish that can never end.\nThe S\u00e1rik\u00e1,(325) methinks, possessed\nMore love than glows in R\u00e1ma\u2019s breast.\nWho, as the tale is told to us,\nAddressed the stricken parrot thus:\n\u201cParrot, the capturer\u2019s talons tear,\nWhile yet alone thou flutterest there,\nBefore his mouth has closed on me:\u201d\nSo cried the bird, herself to free.\nReft of her son, in childless woe,\nMy mother\u2019s tears for ever flow:\nIll-fated, doomed with grief to strive,\nWhat aid can she from me derive?\nPressed down by care, she cannot rise\nFrom sorrow\u2019s flood wherein she lies.\nIn righteous wrath my single arm\nCould, with my bow, protect from harm\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s town and all the earth:\nBut what is hero prowess worth?\nLest breaking duty\u2019s law I sin,\nAnd lose the heaven I strive to win,\nThe forest life today I choose,\nAnd kingly state and power refuse.\u201d\n\n  Thus mourning in that lonely spot\nThe troubled chief bewailed his lot,\nAnd filled with tears, his eyes ran o\u2019er;\nThen silent sat, and spake no more.\nTo him, when ceased his loud lament,\nLike fire whose brilliant might is spent,\nOr the great sea when sleeps the wave,\nThus Lakshma\u1e47 consolation gave:\n\u201cChief of the brave who bear the bow,\nE\u2019en now Ayodhy\u00e1, sunk in woe,\nBy thy departure reft of light\nIs gloomy as the moonless night.\nUnfit it seems that thou, O chief,\nShouldst so afflict thy soul with grief,\nSo with thou S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s heart consign\nTo deep despair as well as mine.\nNot I, O Raghu\u2019s son, nor she\nCould live one hour deprived of thee:\nWe were, without thine arm to save,\nLike fish deserted by the wave.\nAlthough my mother dear to meet,\n\u015aatrughna, and the king, were sweet,\nOn them, or heaven, to feed mine eye\nWere nothing, if thou wert not by.\u201d\n\n  Sitting at ease, their glances fell\nUpon the beds, constructed well,\nAnd there the sons of virtue laid\nTheir limbs beneath the fig tree\u2019s shade.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIV. Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s Hermitage.\n\n\nSo there that night the heroes spent\nUnder the boughs that o\u2019er them bent,\nAnd when the sun his glory spread,\nUpstarting, from the place they sped.\nOn to that spot they made their way,\nThrough the dense wood that round them lay,\nWhere Yamun\u00e1\u2019s(326) swift waters glide\nTo blend with Gang\u00e1\u2019s holy tide.\nCharmed with the prospect ever new\nThe glorious heroes wandered through\nFull many a spot of pleasant ground,\nRejoicing as they gazed around,\nWith eager eye and heart at ease,\nOn countless sorts of flowery trees.\nAnd now the day was half-way sped\nWhen thus to Lakshma\u1e47 R\u00e1ma said:\n\u201cThere, there, dear brother, turn thine eyes;\nSee near Pray\u00e1g(327) that smoke arise:\nThe banner of our Lord of Flames\nThe dwelling of some saint proclaims.\nNear to the place our steps we bend\nWhere Yamun\u00e1 and Gang\u00e1 blend.\nI hear and mark the deafening roar\nWhen chafing floods together pour.\nSee, near us on the ground are left\nDry logs, by labouring woodmen cleft,\nAnd the tall trees, that blossom near\nSaint Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s home, appear.\u201d\n\n  The bow-armed princes onward passed,\nAnd as the sun was sinking fast\nThey reached the hermit\u2019s dwelling, set\nNear where the rushing waters met.\nThe presence of the warrior scared\nThe deer and birds as on he fared,\nAnd struck them with unwonted awe:\nThen Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s cot they saw.\nThe high-souled hermit soon they found\nGirt by his dear disciples round:\nCalm saint, whose vows had well been wrought,\nWhose fervent rites keen sight had bought.\nDuly had flames of worship blazed\nWhen R\u00e1ma on the hermit gazed:\nHis suppliant hands the hero raised,\nDrew nearer to the holy man\nWith his companions, and began,\nDeclaring both his name and race\nAnd why they sought that distant place:\n\u201cSaint, Da\u015baratha\u2019s children we,\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47, come to thee.\nThis my good wife from Janak springs,\nThe best of fair Videha\u2019s kings;\nThrough lonely wilds, a faultless dame,\nTo this pure grove with me she came.\nMy younger brother follows still\nMe banished by my father\u2019s will:\nSumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, bound by a vow,\u2014\nHe roams the wood beside me now.\nSent by my father forth to rove,\nWe seek, O Saint, some holy grove,\nWhere lives of hermits we may lead,\nAnd upon fruits and berries feed.\u201d\n\n  When Bharadv\u00e1ja, prudent-souled,\nHad heard the prince his tale unfold,\nWater he bade them bring, a bull,\nAnd honour-gifts in dishes full,\nAnd drink and food of varied taste,\nBerries and roots, before him placed,\nAnd then the great ascetic showed\nA cottage for the guests\u2019 abode.\nThe saint these honours gladly paid\nTo R\u00e1ma who had thither strayed,\nThen compassed sat by birds and deer\nAnd many a hermit resting near.\nThe prince received the service kind,\nAnd sat him down rejoiced in mind.\nThen Bharadv\u00e1ja silence broke,\nAnd thus the words of duty spoke:\n\u201cKakutstha\u2019s royal son, that thou\nHadst sought this grove I knew ere now.\nMine ears have heard thy story, sent\nWithout a sin to banishment.\nBehold, O Prince, this ample space\nNear where the mingling floods embrace,\nHoly, and beautiful, and clear:\nDwell with us, and be happy here.\u201d\n\n  By Bharadv\u00e1ja thus addressed,\nR\u00e1ma whose kind and tender breast\nAll living things would bless and save,\nIn gracious words his answer gave:\n\n  \u201cMy honoured lord, this tranquil spot,\nFair home of hermits, suits me not:\nFor all the neighbouring people here\nWill seek us when they know me near:\nWith eager wish to look on me,\nAnd the Videhan dame to see,\nA crowd of rustics will intrude\nUpon the holy solitude.\nProvide, O gracious lord, I pray,\nSome quiet home that lies away,\nWhere my Videhan spouse may dwell\nTasting the bliss deserved so well.\u201d\n\n  The hermit heard the prayer he made:\nA while in earnest thought he stayed,\nAnd then in words like these expressed\nHis answer to the chief\u2019s request:\n\u201cTen leagues away there stands a hill\nWhere thou mayst live, if such thy will:\nA holy mount, exceeding fair;\nGreat saints have made their dwelling there:\nThere great Lang\u00fars(328) in thousands play,\nAnd bears amid the thickets stray;\nWide-known by Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s name,\nIt rivals Gandham\u00e1dan\u2019s(329) fame.\nLong as the man that hill who seeks\nGazes upon its sacred peaks,\nTo holy things his soul he gives\nAnd pure from thought of evil lives.\nThere, while a hundred autumns fled,\nHas many a saint with hoary head\nSpent his pure life, and won the prize,\nBy deep devotion, in the skies:\nBest home, I ween, if such retreat,\nFar from the ways of men, be sweet:\nOr let thy years of exile flee\nHere in this hermitage with me.\u201d\n\n  Thus Bharadv\u00e1ja spake, and trained\nIn lore of duty, entertained\nThe princes and the dame, and pressed\nHis friendly gifts on every guest.\n\n  Thus to Pray\u00e1g the hero went,\nThus saw the saint pre\u00ebminent,\nAnd varied speeches heard and said:\nThen holy night o\u2019er heaven was spread.\nAnd R\u00e1ma took, by toil oppressed,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 and his brother, rest;\nAnd so the night, with sweet content,\nIn Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s grove was spent.\nBut when the dawn dispelled the night,\nR\u00e1ma approached the anchorite,\nAnd thus addressed the holy sire\nWhose glory shone like kindled fire:\n\u201cWell have we spent, O truthful Sage,\nThe night within thy hermitage:\nNow let my lord his guests permit\nFor their new home his grove to quit.\u201d\n\n  Then, as he saw the morning break,\nIn answer Bharadv\u00e1ja spake:\n\u201cGo forth to Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill,\nWhere berries grow, and sweets distil:\nFull well, I deem, that home will suit\nThee, R\u00e1ma, strong and resolute.\nGo forth, and Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da seek,\nFamed mountain of the Varied Peak.\nIn the wild woods that gird him round\nAll creatures of the chase are found:\nThou in the glades shalt see appear\nVast herds of elephants and deer.\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 there shalt thou delight\nTo gaze upon the woody height;\nThere with expanding heart to look\nOn river, table-land, and brook,\nAnd see the foaming torrent rave\nImpetuous from the mountain cave.\nAuspicious hill! where all day long\nThe lapwing\u2019s cry, the Ko\u00efl\u2019s song\n  Make all who listen gay:\nWhere all is fresh and fair to see,\nWhere elephants and deer roam free,\n  There, as a hermit, stay.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LV. The Passage Of Yamun\u00e1.\n\n\nThe princely tamers of their foes\nThus passed the night in calm repose,\nThen to the hermit having bent\nWith reverence, on their way they went.\nHigh favour Bharadv\u00e1ja showed,\nAnd blessed them ready for the road.\nWith such fond looks as fathers throw\nOn their own sons, before they go.\nThen spake the saint with glory bright\nTo R\u00e1ma peerless in his might:\n\u201cFirst, lords of men, direct your feet\nWhere Yamun\u00e1 and Gang\u00e1 meet;\nThen to the swift K\u00e1lind\u00ed(330) go,\nWhose westward waves to Gang\u00e1 flow.\nWhen thou shalt see her lovely shore\nWorn by their feet who hasten o\u2019er,\nThen, Raghu\u2019s son, a raft prepare,\nAnd cross the Sun born river there.\nUpon her farther bank a tree,\nNear to the landing wilt thou see.\nThe blessed source of varied gifts,\nThere her green boughs that Fig-tree lifts:\nA tree where countless birds abide,\nBy \u015ay\u00e1ma\u2019s name known far and wide.\nS\u00edt\u00e1, revere that holy shade:\nThere be thy prayers for blessing prayed.\nThence for a league your way pursue,\nAnd a dark wood shall meet your view,\nWhere tall bamboos their foliage show,\nThe Gum-tree and the Jujube grow.\nTo Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da have I oft\nTrodden that path so smooth and soft,\nWhere burning woods no traveller scare,\nBut all is pleasant, green, and fair.\u201d\n\n  When thus the guests their road had learned,\nBack to his cot the hermit turned,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, S\u00edt\u00e1 paid\nTheir reverent thanks for courteous aid.\nThus R\u00e1ma spake to Lakshma\u1e47, when\nThe saint had left the lords of men:\n\u201cGreat store of bliss in sooth is ours\nOn whom his love the hermit showers.\u201d\nAs each to other wisely talked,\nThe lion lords together walked\nOn to K\u00e1lind\u00ed\u2019s woody shore;\nAnd gentle S\u00edt\u00e1 went before.\nThey reached that flood, whose waters flee\nWith rapid current to the sea;\nTheir minds a while to thought they gave\nAnd counselled how to cross the wave.\nAt length, with logs together laid,\nA mighty raft the brothers made.\nThen dry bamboos across were tied,\nAnd grass was spread from side to side.\nAnd the great hero Lakshma\u1e47 brought\nCane and Rose-Apple boughs and wrought,\nTrimming the branches smooth and neat,\nFor S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s use a pleasant seat.\nAnd R\u00e1ma placed thereon his dame\nTouched with a momentary shame,\nResembling in her glorious mien\nAll-thought-surpassing Fortune\u2019s Queen.\nThen R\u00e1ma hastened to dispose,\nEach in its place, the skins and bows,\nAnd by the fair Videhan laid\nThe coats, the ornaments, and spade.\nWhen S\u00edt\u00e1 thus was set on board,\nAnd all their gear was duly stored,\nThe heroes each with vigorous hand,\nPushed off the raft and left the land.\nWhen half its way the raft had made,\nThus S\u00edt\u00e1 to K\u00e1lind\u00ed prayed:\n\u201cGoddess, whose flood I traverse now,\nGrant that my lord may keep his vow.\nFor thee shall bleed a thousand kine,\nA hundred jars shall pour their wine,\nWhen R\u00e1ma sees that town again\nWhere old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s children reign.\u201d\n\n  Thus to K\u00e1lind\u00ed\u2019s stream she sued\nAnd prayed in suppliant attitude.\nThen to the river\u2019s bank the dame,\nFervent in supplication, came.\nThey left the raft that brought them o\u2019er,\nAnd the thick wood that clothed the shore,\nAnd to the Fig-tree \u015ay\u00e1ma made\nTheir way, so cool with verdant shade.\nThen S\u00edt\u00e1 viewed that best of trees,\nAnd reverent spake in words like these:\n\u201cHail, hail, O mighty tree! Allow\nMy husband to complete his vow;\nLet us returning, I entreat,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 and Sumitr\u00e1 meet.\u201d\nThen with her hands together placed\nAround the tree she duly paced.\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw his blameless spouse\nA suppliant under holy boughs,\nThe gentle darling of his heart,\nHe thus to Lakshma\u1e47 spake apart:\n\u201cBrother, by thee our way be led;\nLet S\u00edt\u00e1 close behind thee tread:\nI, best of men, will grasp my bow,\nAnd hindmost of the three will go.\nWhat fruits soe\u2019er her fancy take,\nOr flowers half hidden in the brake,\nFor Janak\u2019s child forget not thou\nTo gather from the brake or bough.\u201d\n\n  Thus on they fared. The tender dame\nAsked R\u00e1ma, as they walked, the name\nOf every shrub that blossoms bore,\nCreeper, and tree unseen before:\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 fetched, at S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s prayer,\nBoughs of each tree with clusters fair.\nThen Janak\u2019s daughter joyed to see\nThe sand-discoloured river flee,\nWhere the glad cry of many a bird,\nThe s\u00e1ras and the swan, was heard.\nA league the brothers travelled through\nThe forest noble game they slew:\nBeneath the trees their meal they dressed\nAnd sat them down to eat and rest.\nA while in that delightful shade\nWhere elephants unnumbered strayed,\nWhere peacocks screamed and monkeys played,\nThey wandered with delight.\nThen by the river\u2019s side they found\nA pleasant spot of level ground,\nWhere all was smooth and fair around,\n  Their lodging for the night.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVI. Chitrak\u00fata\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, when the morning rose,\nCalled Lakshma\u1e47 gently from repose:\n\u201cAwake, the pleasant voices hear\nOf forest birds that warble near.\nScourge of thy foes, no longer stay;\nThe hour is come to speed away.\u201d\n\n  The slumbering prince unclosed his eyes\nWhen thus his brother bade him rise,\nCompelling, at the timely cry,\nFatigue, and sleep, and rest to fly.\nThe brothers rose and S\u00edt\u00e1 too;\nPure water from the stream they drew,\nPaid morning rites, then followed still\nThe road to Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill.\nThen R\u00e1ma as he took the road\nWith Lakshma\u1e47, while the morning, glowed,\nTo the Videhan lady cried,\nS\u00edt\u00e1 the fair, the lotus-eyed:\n\u201cLook round thee, dear; each flowery tree\nTouched with the fire of morning see:\nThe Kin\u015buk, now the Frosts are fled,\u2014\nHow glorious with his wreaths of red!\nThe Bel-trees see, so loved of men,\nHanging their boughs in every glen.\nO\u2019erburthened with their fruit and flowers:\nA plenteous store of food is ours.\n  See, Lakshma\u1e47, in the leafy trees,\n    Where\u2019er they make their home.\n  Down hangs, the work of labouring bees\n    The ponderous honeycomb.\n  In the fair wood before us spread\n    The startled wild-cock cries:\n  Hark, where the flowers are soft to tread,\n    The peacock\u2019s voice replies.\n  Where elephants are roaming free,\n    And sweet birds\u2019 songs are loud,\n  The glorious Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da see:\n    His peaks are in the cloud.\n  On fair smooth ground he stands displayed,\n    Begirt by many a tree:\n  O brother, in that holy shade\n    How happy shall we be!\u201d(331)\nThen R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, S\u00edt\u00e1, each\nSpoke raising suppliant hands this speech\nTo him, in woodland dwelling met,\nV\u00e1lm\u00edki, ancient anchoret:\n\u201cO Saint, this mountain takes the mind,\nWith creepers, trees of every kind,\nWith fruit and roots abounding thus,\nA pleasant life it offers us:\nHere for a while we fain would stay,\nAnd pass a season blithe and gay.\u201d\n\n  Then the great saint, in duty trained,\nWith honour gladly entertained:\nHe gave his guests a welcome fair,\nAnd bade them sit and rest them there,\nR\u00e1ma of mighty arm and chest\nHis faithful Lakshma\u1e47 then addressed:\n\u201cBrother, bring hither from the wood\nSelected timber strong and good,\nAnd build therewith a little cot;\nMy heart rejoices in the spot\nThat lies beneath the mountain\u2019s side,\nRemote, with water well supplied.\u201d\n\n  Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son his words obeyed,\nBrought many a tree, and deftly made,\nWith branches in the forest cut,\nAs R\u00e1ma bade, a leafy hut.\nThen R\u00e1ma, when the cottage stood\nFair, firmly built, and walled with wood,\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 spake, whose eager mind\nTo do his brother\u2019s will inclined:\n\u201cNow, Lakshma\u1e47 as our cot is made,\nMust sacrifice be duly paid\nBy us, for lengthened life who hope,\nWith venison of the antelope.\nAway, O bright-eyed Lakshma\u1e47, speed:\nStruck by thy bow a deer must bleed:\nAs Scripture bids, we must not slight\nThe duty that commands the rite.\u201d\n\n  Lakshma\u1e47, the chief whose arrows laid\nHis foemen low, his word obeyed;\nAnd R\u00e1ma thus again addressed\nThe swift performer of his hest:\n\u201cPrepare the venison thou hast shot,\nTo sacrifice for this our cot.\nHaste, brother dear, for this the hour,\nAnd this the day of certain power.\u201d\nThen glorious Lakshma\u1e47 took the buck\nHis arrow in the wood had struck;\nBearing his mighty load he came,\nAnd laid it in the kindled flame.\nSoon as he saw the meat was done,\nAnd that the juices ceased to run\nFrom the broiled carcass, Lakshma\u1e47 then\nSpoke thus to R\u00e1ma best of men:\n\u201cThe carcass of the buck, entire,\nIs ready dressed upon the fire.\nNow be the sacred rites begun\nTo please the God, thou godlike one.\u201d\n\n  R\u00e1ma the good, in ritual trained,\nPure from the bath, with thoughts restrained,\nHasted those verses to repeat\nWhich make the sacrifice complete.\nThe hosts celestial came in view,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to the cot withdrew,\nWhile a sweet sense of rapture stole\nThrough the unequalled hero\u2019s soul.\nHe paid the Vi\u015bvedevas(332) due.\nAnd Rudra\u2019s right, and Vish\u1e47u\u2019s too,\nNor wonted blessings, to protect\nTheir new-built home, did he neglect.\nWith voice repressed he breathed the prayer,\nBathed duly in the river fair,\nAnd gave good offerings that remove\nThe stain of sin, as texts approve.\nAnd many an altar there he made,\nAnd shrines, to suit the holy shade,\nAll decked with woodland chaplets sweet,\nAnd fruit and roots and roasted meat,\nWith muttered prayer, as texts require,\nWater, and grass and wood and fire.\nSo R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, S\u00edt\u00e1 paid\nTheir offerings to each God and shade,\nAnd entered then their pleasant cot\nThat bore fair signs of happy lot.\nThey entered, the illustrious three,\nThe well-set cottage, fair to see,\nRoofed with the leaves of many a tree,\n  And fenced from wind and rain:\nSo, at their Father Brahm\u00e1\u2019s call,\nThe Gods of heaven, assembling all,\nTo their own glorious council hall\n  Advance in shining train.\nSo, resting on that lovely hill,\nNear the fair lily-covered rill,\n  The happy prince forgot,\nSurrounded by the birds and deer,\nThe woe, the longing, and the fear\n  That gloom the exile\u2019s lot.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVII. Sumantra\u2019s Return.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma reached the southern bank,\nKing Guha\u2019s heart with sorrow sank:\nHe with Sumantra talked, and spent\nWith his deep sorrow, homeward went.\nSumantra, as the king decreed,\nYoked to the car each noble steed,\nAnd to Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s city sped\nWith his sad heart disquieted.\nOn lake and brook and scented grove\nHis glances fell, as on he drove:\nCity and village came in view\nAs o\u2019er the road his coursers flew.\nOn the third day the charioteer,\nWhen now the hour of night was near,\nCame to Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s gate, and found\nThe city all in sorrow drowned.\nTo him, in spirit quite cast down,\nForsaken seemed the silent town,\nAnd by the rush of grief oppressed\nHe pondered in his mournful breast:\n\u201cIs all Ayodhy\u00e1 burnt with grief,\nSteed, elephant, and man, and chief?\nDoes her loved R\u00e1ma\u2019s exile so\nAfflict her with the fires of woe?\u201d\nThus as he mused, his steeds flew fast,\nAnd swiftly through the gate he passed.\nOn drove the charioteer, and then\nIn hundreds, yea in thousands, men\nRan to the car from every side,\nAnd, \u201cR\u00e1ma, where is R\u00e1ma?\u201d cried.\nSumantra said: \u201cMy chariot bore\nThe duteous prince to Gang\u00e1\u2019s shore;\nI left him there at his behest,\nAnd homeward to Ayodhy\u00e1 pressed.\u201d\nSoon as the anxious people knew\nThat he was o\u2019er the flood they drew\nDeep sighs, and crying, R\u00e1ma! all\nWailed, and big tears began to fall.\nHe heard the mournful words prolonged,\nAs here and there the people thronged:\n\u201cWoe, woe for us, forlorn, undone,\nNo more to look on Raghu\u2019s son!\nHis like again we ne\u2019er shall see,\nOf heart so true, of hand so free,\nIn gifts, in gatherings for debate,\nWhen marriage pomps we celebrate,\nWhat should we do? What earthly thing\nCan rest, or hope, or pleasure bring?\u201d\n\n  Thus the sad town, which R\u00e1ma kept\nAs a kind father, wailed and wept.\nEach mansion, as the car went by,\nSent forth a loud and bitter cry,\nAs to the window every dame,\nMourning for banished R\u00e1ma, came.\nAs his sad eyes with tears o\u2019erflowed,\nHe sped along the royal road\nTo Da\u015baratha\u2019s high abode.\nThere leaping down his car he stayed;\nWithin the gates his way he made;\nThrough seven broad courts he onward hied\nWhere people thronged on every side.\nFrom each high terrace, wild with woe,\nThe royal ladies flocked below:\nHe heard them talk in gentle tone,\nAs each for R\u00e1ma made her moan:\n\u201cWhat will the charioteer reply\nTo Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s eager cry?\nWith R\u00e1ma from the gates he went;\nHomeward alone, his steps are bent.\nHard is a life with woe distressed,\nBut difficult to win is rest,\nIf, when her son is banished, still\nShe lives beneath her load of ill.\u201d\n\n  Such was the speech Sumantra heard\nFrom them whom grief unfeigned had stirred.\nAs fires of anguish burnt him through,\nSwift to the monarch\u2019s hall he drew,\nPast the eighth court; there met his sight,\nThe sovereign in his palace bright,\nStill weeping for his son, forlorn,\nPale, faint, and all with sorrow worn.\nAs there he sat, Sumantra bent\nAnd did obeisance reverent,\nAnd to the king repeated o\u2019er\nThe message he from R\u00e1ma bore.\nThe monarch heard, and well-nigh brake\nHis heart, but yet no word he spake:\nFainting to earth he fell, and dumb,\nBy grief for R\u00e1ma overcome.\nRang through the hall a startling cry,\nAnd women\u2019s arms were tossed on high,\nWhen, with his senses all astray,\nUpon the ground the monarch lay.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, with Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s aid,\nRaised from the ground her lord dismayed:\n\u201cSire, of high fate,\u201d she cried, \u201cO, why\nDost thou no single word reply\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s messenger who brings\nNews of his painful wanderings?\nThe great injustice done, art thou\nShame-stricken for thy conduct now?\nRise up, and do thy part: bestow\nComfort and help in this our woe.\nSpeak freely, King; dismiss thy fear,\nFor Queen Kaikey\u00ed stands not near,\nAfraid of whom thou wouldst not seek\nTidings of R\u00e1ma: freely speak.\u201d\n\n  When the sad queen had ended so,\nShe sank, insatiate in her woe,\nAnd prostrate lay upon the ground,\nWhile her faint voice by sobs was drowned.\nWhen all the ladies in despair\nSaw Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 wailing there,\nAnd the poor king oppressed with pain,\nThey flocked around and wept again.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Message.\n\n\nThe king a while had senseless lain,\nWhen care brought memory back again.\nThen straight he called, the news to hear\nOf R\u00e1ma, for the charioteer,\nWith reverent hand to hand applied\nHe waited by the old man\u2019s side,\nWhose mind with anguish was distraught\nLike a great elephant newly caught.\nThe king with bitter pain distressed\nThe faithful charioteer addressed,\nWho, sad of mien, with flooded eye,\nAnd dust upon his limbs, stood by:\n\u201cWhere will be R\u00e1ma\u2019s dwelling now\nAt some tree\u2019s foot, beneath the bough;\nAh, what will be the exile\u2019s food,\nBred up with kind solicitude?\nCan he, long lapped in pleasant rest,\nUnmeet for pain, by pain oppressed,\nSon of earth\u2019s king, his sad night spend\nEarth-couched, as one that has no friend?\nBehind him, when abroad he sped,\nCars, elephant, and foot were led:\nThen how shall R\u00e1ma dwell afar\nIn the wild woods where no men are?\nHow, tell me, did the princes there,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 good and soft and fair,\nAlighting from the chariot, tread\nThe forest wilds around them spread?\nA happy lot is thine, I ween,\nWhose eyes my two dear sons have seen\nSeeking on foot the forest shade,\nLike the bright Twins to view displayed,\nThe heavenly A\u015bvins, when they seek\nThe woods that hang \u2019neath Mandar\u2019s peak.\nWhat words, Sumantra, quickly tell,\nFrom R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, S\u00edt\u00e1 fell?\nHow in the wood did R\u00e1ma eat?\nWhat was his bed, and what his seat?\nFull answer to my questions give,\nFor I on thy replies shall live,\nAs with the saints Yay\u00e1ti held\nSweet converse, from the skies expelled.\u201d\n\n  Urged by the lord of men to speak,\nWhose sobbing voice came faint and weak,\nThus he, while tears his utterance broke,\nIn answer to the monarch spoke:\n\u201cHear then the words that R\u00e1ma said,\nResolved in duty\u2019s path to tread.\nJoining his hands, his head he bent,\nAnd gave this message, reverent:\n\u201cSumantra, to my father go,\nWhose lofty mind all people know:\nBow down before him, as is meet,\nAnd in my stead salute his feet.\nThen to the queen my mother bend,\nAnd give the greeting that I send:\nNe\u2019er may her steps from duty err,\nAnd may it still be well with her.\nAnd add this word: \u201cO Queen, pursue\nThy vows with faithful heart and true;\nAnd ever at due season turn\nWhere holy fires of worship burn.\nAnd, lady, on our lord bestow\nSuch honour as to Gods we owe.\nBe kind to every queen: let pride\nAnd thought of self be cast aside.\nIn the king\u2019s fond opinion raise\nKaikey\u00ed, by respect and praise.\nLet the young Bharat ever be\nLoved, honoured as the king by thee:\nThy king-ward duty ne\u2019er forget:\nHigh over all are monarchs set.\u201d\n\n  And Bharat, too, for me address:\nPray that all health his life may bless.\nLet every royal lady share,\nAs justice bids, his love and care.\nSay to the strong-armed chief who brings\nJoy to Iksv\u00e1ku\u2019s line of kings:\n\u201cAs ruling prince thy care be shown\nOf him, our sire, who holds the throne.\nStricken in years he feels their weight;\nBut leave him in his royal state.\nAs regent heir content thee still,\nSubmissive to thy father\u2019s will.\u2019 \u201d\nR\u00e1ma again his charge renewed,\nAs the hot flood his cheek bedewed:\n\u201cHold as thine own my mother dear\nWho drops for me the longing tear.\u201d\nThen Lakshma\u1e47, with his soul on fire,\nSpake breathing fast these words of ire:\n\u201cSay, for what sin, for what offence\nWas royal R\u00e1ma banished thence?\nHe is the cause, the king: poor slave\nTo the light charge Kaikey\u00ed gave.\nLet right or wrong the motive be,\nThe author of our woe is he.\nWhether the exile were decreed\nThrough foolish faith or guilty greed,\nFor promises or empire, still\nThe king has wrought a grievous ill.\nGrant that the Lord of all saw fit\nTo prompt the deed and sanction it,\nIn R\u00e1ma\u2019s life no cause I see\nFor which the king should bid him flee.\nHis blinded eyes refused to scan\nThe guilt and folly of the plan,\nAnd from the weakness of the king\nHere and hereafter woe shall spring.\nNo more my sire: the ties that used\nTo bind me to the king are loosed.\nMy brother R\u00e1ma, Raghu\u2019s son,\nTo me is lord, friend, sire in one.\nThe love of men how can he win,\nDeserting, by the cruel sin,\nTheir joy, whose heart is swift to feel\nA pleasure in the people\u2019s weal?\nShall he whose mandate could expel\nThe virtuous R\u00e1ma, loved so well,\nTo whom his subjects\u2019 fond hearts cling\u2014\nShall he in spite of them be king?\u201d\n\n  But Janak\u2019s child, my lord, stood by,\nAnd oft the votaress heaved a sigh.\nShe seemed with dull and wandering sense,\nBeneath a spirit\u2019s influence.\nThe noble princess, pained with woe\nWhich till that hour she ne\u2019er could know,\nTears in her heavy trouble shed,\nBut not a word to me she said.\nShe raised her face which grief had dried\nAnd tenderly her husband eyed,\nGazed on him as he turned to go\nWhile tear chased tear in rapid flow.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIX. Dasaratha\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nAs thus Sumantra, best of peers,\nTold his sad tale with many tears,\nThe monarch cried, \u201cI pray thee, tell\nAt length again what there befell.\u201d\nSumantra, at the king\u2019s behest,\nStriving with sobs he scarce repressed,\nHis trembling voice at last controlled,\nAnd thus his further tidings told:\n\u201cTheir locks in votive coils they wound,\nTheir coats of bark upon them bound,\nTo Gang\u00e1\u2019s farther shore they went,\nThence to Pray\u00e1g their steps were bent.\nI saw that Lakshma\u1e47 walked ahead\nTo guard the path the two should tread.\nSo far I saw, no more could learn,\nForced by the hero to return.\nRetracing slow my homeward course,\nScarce could I move each stubborn horse:\nShedding hot tears of grief he stood\nWhen R\u00e1ma turned him to the wood.(333)\nAs the two princes parted thence\nI raised my hands in reverence,\nMounted my ready car, and bore\nThe grief that stung me to the core.\nWith Guha all that day I stayed,\nStill by the earnest hope delayed\nThat R\u00e1ma, ere the time should end,\nSome message from the wood might send.\nThy realms, great Monarch, mourn the blow,\nAnd sympathize with R\u00e1ma\u2019s woe.\nEach withering tree hangs low his head,\nAnd shoot, and bud, and flower are dead.\nDried are the floods that wont to fill\nThe lake, the river, and the rill.\nDrear is each grove and garden now,\nDry every blossom on the bough.\nEach beast is still, no serpents crawl:\nA lethargy of woe on all.\nThe very wood is silent: crushed\nWith grief for R\u00e1ma, all is hushed.\nFair blossoms from the water born,\nGay garlands that the earth adorn,\nAnd every fruit that gleams like gold,\nHave lost the scent that charmed of old.\nEmpty is every grove I see,\nOr birds sit pensive on the tree.\nWhere\u2019er I look, its beauty o\u2019er,\nThe pleasance charms not as before.\nI drove through fair Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s street:\nNone flew with joy the car to meet.\nThey saw that R\u00e1ma was not there,\nAnd turned them sighing in despair.\nThe people in the royal way\nWept tears of bitter grief, when they\nBeheld me coming, from afar,\nNo R\u00e1ma with me in the car.\nFrom palace roof and turret high\nEach woman bent her eager eye;\nShe looked for R\u00e1ma, but in vain;\nGazed on the car and shrieked for pain.\nTheir long clear eyes with sorrow drowned\nThey, when this common grief was found,\nLooked each on other, friend and foe,\nIn sympathy of levelling woe:\nNo shade of difference between\nFoe, friend, or neutral, there was seen.\nWithout a joy, her bosom rent\nWith grief for R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment,\nAyodhy\u00e1 like the queen appears\nWho mourns her son with many tears.\u201d\n\n  He ended: and the king, distressed.\nWith sobbing voice that lord addressed:\n\u201cAh me, by false Kaikey\u00ed led,\nOf evil race, to evil bred,\nI took no counsel of the sage,\nNor sought advice from skill and age,\nI asked no lord his aid to lend,\nI called no citizen or friend.\nRash was my deed, bereft of sense\nSlave to a woman\u2019s influence.\nSurely, my lord, a woe so great\nFalls on us by the will of Fate;\nIt lays the house of Raghu low,\nFor Destiny will have it so.\nI pray thee, if I e\u2019er have done\nAn act to please thee, yea, but one,\nFly, fly, and R\u00e1ma homeward lead:\nMy life, departing, counsels speed.\nFly, ere the power to bid I lack,\nFly to the wood: bring R\u00e1ma back.\nI cannot live for even one\nShort hour bereaved of my son.\nBut ah, the prince, whose arms are strong,\nHas journeyed far: the way is long:\nMe, me upon the chariot place,\nAnd let me look on R\u00e1ma\u2019s face.\nAh me, my son, mine eldest-born,\nWhere roams he in the wood forlorn,\nThe wielder of the mighty bow,\nWhose shoulders like the lion\u2019s show?\nO, ere the light of life be dim,\nTake me to S\u00edt\u00e1 and to him.\nO R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, and O thou\nDear S\u00edt\u00e1, constant to thy vow,\nBeloved ones, you cannot know\nThat I am dying of my woe.\u201d\n\n  The king to bitter grief a prey,\nThat drove each wandering sense away,\nSunk in affliction\u2019s sea, too wide\nTo traverse, in his anguish cried:\n\u201cHard, hard to pass, my Queen, this sea\nOf sorrow raging over me:\nNo R\u00e1ma near to soothe mine eye,\nPlunged in its lowest deeps I lie.\nSorrow for R\u00e1ma swells the tide,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s absence makes it wide:\nMy tears its foamy flood distain,\nMade billowy by my sighs of pain:\nMy cries its roar, the arms I throw\nAbout me are the fish below,\nKaikey\u00ed is the fire that feeds\nBeneath: my hair the tangled weeds:\nIts source the tears for R\u00e1ma shed:\nThe hump-back\u2019s words its monsters dread:\nThe boon I gave the wretch its shore,\nTill R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment be o\u2019er.(334)\n  Ah me, that I should long to set\n    My eager eyes to-day\n  On Raghu\u2019s son, and he be yet\n    With Lakshma\u1e47 far away!\u201d\n  Thus he of lofty glory wailed,\n    And sank upon the bed.\n  Beneath the woe his spirit failed,\n    And all his senses fled.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LX. Kausaly\u00e1 Consoled.\n\n\nAs Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1, trembling much,\nAs blighted by a goblin\u2019s touch,\nStill lying prostrate, half awoke\nTo consciousness, \u2019twas thus she spoke:\n\u201cBear me away, Sumantra, far,\nWhere R\u00e1ma, S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47 are.\nBereft of them I have no power\nTo linger on a single hour.\nAgain, I pray, thy steps retrace,\nAnd me in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest place,\nFor after them I needs must go,\nOr sink to Yama\u2019s realms below.\u201d\n\n  His utterance choked by tears that rolled\nDown from their fountains uncontrolled,\nWith suppliant hands the charioteer\nThus spake, the lady\u2019s heart to cheer:\n\u201cDismiss thy grief, despair, and dread\nThat fills thy soul, of sorrow bred,\nFor pain and anguish thrown aside,\nWill R\u00e1ma in the wood abide.\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, with unfailing care\nWill guard the feet of R\u00e1ma there,\nEarning, with governed sense, the prize\nThat waits on duty in the skies.\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 in the wild as well\nAs in her own dear home will dwell;\nTo R\u00e1ma all her heart she gives,\nAnd free from doubt and terror lives.\nNo faintest sign of care or woe\nThe features of the lady show:\nMethinks Videha\u2019s pride was made\nFor exile in the forest shade.\nE\u2019en as of old she used to rove\nDelighted in the city\u2019s grove,\nThus, even thus she joys to tread\nThe woodlands uninhabited.\nLike a young child, her face as fair\nAs the young moon, she wanders there.\nWhat though in lonely woods she stray\nStill R\u00e1ma is her joy and stay:\nAll his the heart no sorrow bends,\nHer very life on him depends.\nFor, if her lord she might not see,\nAyodhy\u00e1 like the wood would be.\nShe bids him, as she roams, declare\nThe names of towns and hamlets there,\nMarks various trees that meet her eye,\nAnd many a brook that hurries by,\nAnd Janak\u2019s daughter seems to roam\nOne little league away from home\nWhen R\u00e1ma or his brother speaks\nAnd gives the answer that she seeks.\nThis, Lady, I remember well,\nNor angry words have I to tell:\nReproaches at Kaikey\u00ed shot,\nSuch, Queen, my mind remembers not.\u201d\nThe speech when S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s wrath was high,\nSumantra passed in silence by,\nThat so his pleasant words might cheer\nWith sweet report Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s ear.\n\u201cHer moonlike beauty suffers not\nThough winds be rude and suns be hot:\nThe way, the danger, and the toil\nHer gentle lustre may not soil.\nLike the red lily\u2019s leafy crown\nOr as the fair full moon looks down,\nSo the Videhan lady\u2019s face\nStill shines with undiminished grace.\nWhat if the borrowed colours throw\nO\u2019er her fine feet no rosy glow,\nStill with their natural tints they spread\nA lotus glory where they tread.\nIn sportive grace she walks the ground\nAnd sweet her chiming anklets sound.\nNo jewels clasp the faultless limb:\nShe leaves them all for love of him.\nIf in the woods her gentle eye\nA lion sees, or tiger nigh,\nOr elephant, she fears no ill\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s arm supports her still.\nNo longer be their fate deplored,\nNor thine, nor that of Ko\u015bal\u2019s lord,\nFor conduct such as theirs shall buy\nWide glory that can never die.\nFor casting grief and care away,\nDelighting in the forest, they\nWith joyful spirits, blithe and gay,\nSet forward on the ancient way\n  Where mighty saints have led:\nTheir highest aim, their dearest care\nTo keep their father\u2019s honour fair,\nObserving still the oath he sware,\n  They roam, on wild fruit fed.\u201d\nThus with persuasive art he tried\nTo turn her from her grief aside,\n  By soothing fancies won.\nBut still she gave her sorrow vent:\n\u201cAh R\u00e1ma,\u201d was her shrill lament,\n  \u201cMy love, my son, my son!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXI. Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nWhen, best of all who give delight,\nHer R\u00e1ma wandered far from sight,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 weeping, sore distressed,\nThe king her husband thus addressed:\n\u201cThy name, O Monarch, far and wide\nThrough the three worlds is glorified:\nYet R\u00e1ma\u2019s is the pitying mind,\nHis speed is true, his heart is kind.\nHow will thy sons, good lord, sustain\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1, all their care and pain?\nHow in the wild endure distress,\nNursed in the lap of tenderness?\nHow will the dear Videhan bear\nThe heat and cold when wandering there\nBred in the bliss of princely state,\nSo young and fair and delicate?\nThe large-eyed lady, wont to eat\nThe best of finely seasoned meat\u2014\nHow will she now her life sustain\nWith woodland fare of self-sown grain?\nWill she, with joys encompassed long,\nWho loved the music and the song,\nIn the wild wood endure to hear\nThe ravening lion\u2019s voice of fear?\nWhere sleeps my strong-armed hero, where,\nLike Lord Mahendra\u2019s standard, fair?\nWhere is, by Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side, his bed,\nHis club-like arm beneath his head?\nWhen shall I see his flower-like eyes,\nAnd face that with the lotus vies,\nFeel his sweet lily breath, and view\nHis glorious hair and lotus hue?\nThe heart within my breast, I feel,\nIs adamant or hardest steel,\nOr, in a thousand fragments split,\nThe loss of him had shattered it,\nWhen those I love, who should be blest,\nAre wandering in the wood distressed,\nCondemned their wretched lives to lead\nIn exile, by thy ruthless deed.\nIf, when the fourteen years are past,\nR\u00e1ma reseeks his home at last,\nI think not Bharat will consent\nTo yield the wealth and government.\nAt funeral feasts some mourners deal\nTo kith and kin the solemn meal,\nAnd having duly fed them all\nSome Br\u00e1hmans to the banquet call.\nThe best of Br\u00e1hmans, good and wise,\nThe tardy summoning despise,\nAnd, equal to the Gods, disdain\nCups, e\u2019en of Amrit, thus to drain.\nNay e\u2019en when Br\u00e1hmans first have fed,\nThey loathe the meal for others spread,\nAnd from the leavings turn with scorn,\nAs bulls avoid a fractured horn.\nSo R\u00e1ma, sovereign lord of men,\nWill spurn the sullied kingship then:\nHe born the eldest and the best,\nHis younger\u2019s leavings will detest,\nTurning from tasted food away,\nAs tigers scorn another\u2019s prey.\nThe sacred post is used not twice,\nNor elements, in sacrifice.\nBut once the sacred grass is spread,\nBut once with oil the flame is fed:\nSo R\u00e1ma\u2019s pride will ne\u2019er receive\nThe royal power which others leave,\nLike wine when tasteless dregs are left,\nOr rites of Soma juice bereft.\nBe sure the pride of Raghu\u2019s race\nWill never stoop to such disgrace:\nThe lordly lion will not bear\nThat man should beard him in his lair.\nWere all the worlds against him ranged\nHis dauntless soul were still unchanged:\nHe, dutiful, in duty strong,\nWould purge the impious world from wrong.\nCould not the hero, brave and bold,\nThe archer, with his shafts of gold,\nBurn up the very seas, as doom\nWill in the end all life consume?\nOf lion\u2019s might, eyed like a bull,\nA prince so brave and beautiful,\nThou hast with wicked hate pursued,\nLike sea-born tribes who eat their brood.\nIf thou, O Monarch, hadst but known\nThe duty all the Twice-born own,\nIf the good laws had touched thy mind,\nWhich sages in the Scriptures find,\nThou ne\u2019er hadst driven forth to pine\nThis brave, this duteous son of thine.\nFirst on her lord the wife depends,\nNext on her son and last on friends:\nThese three supports in life has she,\nAnd not a fourth for her may be.\nThy heart, O King, I have not won;\nIn wild woods roams my banished son;\nFar are my friends: ah, hapless me,\nQuite ruined and destroyed by thee.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXII. Dasaratha Consoled.\n\n\nThe queen\u2019s stern speech the monarch heard,\nAs rage and grief her bosom stirred,\nAnd by his anguish sore oppressed\nReflected in his secret breast.\nFainting and sad, with woe distraught,\nHe wandered in a maze of thought;\nAt length the queller of the foe\nGrew conscious, rallying from his woe.\nWhen consciousness returned anew\nLong burning sighs the monarch drew,\nAgain immersed in thought he eyed\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 standing by his side.\nBack to his pondering soul was brought\nThe direful deed his hand had wrought,\nWhen, guiltless of the wrong intent,\nHis arrow at a sound was sent.\nDistracted by his memory\u2019s sting,\nAnd mourning for his son, the king\nTo two consuming griefs a prey,\nA miserable victim lay.\nThe double woe devoured him fast,\nAs on the ground his eyes he cast,\nJoined suppliant hands, her heart to touch,\nAnd spake in the answer, trembling much:\n\u201cKau\u015baly\u00e1, for thy grace I sue,\nJoining these hands as suppliants do.\nThou e\u2019en to foes hast ever been\nA gentle, good, and loving queen.\nHer lord, with noble virtues graced,\nHer lord, by lack of all debased,\nIs still a God in woman\u2019s eyes,\nIf duty\u2019s law she hold and prize.\nThou, who the right hast aye pursued,\nLife\u2019s changes and its chances viewed,\nShouldst never launch, though sorrow-stirred,\nAt me distressed, one bitter word.\u201d\n\n  She listened, as with sorrow faint\nHe murmured forth his sad complaint:\nHer brimming eyes with tears ran o\u2019er,\nAs spouts the new fallen water pour;\nHis suppliant hands, with fear dismayed\nShe gently clasped in hers, and laid,\nLike a fair lotus, on her head,\nAnd faltering in her trouble said:\n\u201cForgive me; at thy feet I lie,\nWith low bent head to thee I cry.\nBy thee besought, thy guilty dame\nPardon from thee can scarcely claim.\nShe merits not the name of wife\nWho cherishes perpetual strife\nWith her own husband good and wise,\nHer lord both here and in the skies.\nI know the claims of duty well,\nI know thy lips the truth must tell.\nAll the wild words I rashly spoke,\nForth from my heart, through anguish, broke;\nFor sorrow bends the stoutest soul,\nAnd cancels Scripture\u2019s high control.\nYea, sorrow\u2019s might all else o\u2019erthrows\nThe strongest and the worst of foes.\n\u2019Tis thus with all: we keenly feel,\nYet bear the blows our foemen deal,\nBut when a slender woe assails\nThe manliest spirit bends and quails.\nThe fifth long night has now begun\nSince the wild woods have lodged my son:\nTo me whose joy is drowned in tears,\nEach day a dreary year appears.\nWhile all my thoughts on him are set\nGrief at my heart swells wilder yet:\nWith doubled might thus Ocean raves\nWhen rushing floods increase his waves.\u201d\n\n  As from Kau\u015baly\u00e1 reasoning well\nThe gentle words of wisdom fell,\nThe sun went down with dying flame,\nAnd darkness o\u2019er the landscape came.\nHis lady\u2019s soothing words in part\nRelieved the monarch\u2019s aching heart,\nWho, wearied out by all his woes,\nYielded to sleep and took repose.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIII. The Hermit\u2019s Son.\n\n\nBut soon by rankling grief oppressed\nThe king awoke from troubled rest,\nAnd his sad heart was tried again\nWith anxious thought where all was pain.\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s mournful fate\nOn Da\u015baratha, good and great\nAs Indra, pressed with crushing weight,\nAs when the demon\u2019s might assails\nThe Sun-God, and his glory pales.\nEre yet the sixth long night was spent,\nSince R\u00e1ma to the woods was sent,\nThe king at midnight sadly thought\nOf the old crime his hand had wrought,\nAnd thus to Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 cried\nWho still for R\u00e1ma moaned and sighed:\n\u201cIf thou art waking, give, I pray,\nAttention to the words I say.\nWhate\u2019er the conduct men pursue,\nBe good or ill the acts they do,\nBe sure, dear Queen, they find the meed\nOf wicked or of virtuous deed.\nA heedless child we call the man\nWhose feeble judgment fails to scan\nThe weight of what his hands may do,\nIts lightness, fault, and merit too.\nOne lays the Mango garden low,\nAnd bids the gay Pal\u00e1\u015bas grow:\nLonging for fruit their bloom he sees,\nBut grieves when fruit should bend the trees.\nCut by my hand, my fruit-trees fell,\nPal\u00e1\u015ba trees I watered well.\nMy hopes this foolish heart deceive,\nAnd for my banished son I grieve.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, in my youthful prime\nArmed with my bow I wrought the crime,\nProud of my skill, my name renowned,\nAn archer prince who shoots by sound.\nThe deed this hand unwitting wrought\nThis misery on my soul has brought,\nAs children seize the deadly cup\nAnd blindly drink the poison up.\nAs the unreasoning man may be\nCharmed with the gay Pal\u00e1\u015ba tree,\nI unaware have reaped the fruit\nOf joying at a sound to shoot.\nAs regent prince I shared the throne,\nThou wast a maid to me unknown,\nThe early Rain-time duly came,\nAnd strengthened love\u2019s delicious flame.\nThe sun had drained the earth that lay\nAll glowing \u2019neath the summer day,\nAnd to the gloomy clime had fled\nWhere dwell the spirits of the dead.(335)\nThe fervent heat that moment ceased,\nThe darkening clouds each hour increased\nAnd frogs and deer and peacocks all\nRejoiced to see the torrents fall.\nTheir bright wings heavy from the shower,\nThe birds, new-bathed, had scarce the power\nTo reach the branches of the trees\nWhose high tops swayed beneath the breeze.\nThe fallen rain, and falling still,\nHung like a sheet on every hill,\nTill, with glad deer, each flooded steep\nShowed glorious as the mighty deep.\nThe torrents down its wooded side\nPoured, some unstained, while others dyed\nGold, ashy, silver, ochre, bore\nThe tints of every mountain ore.\nIn that sweet time, when all are pleased,\nMy arrows and my bow I seized;\nKeen for the chase, in field or grove,\nDown Sarj\u00fa\u2019s bank my car I drove.\nI longed with all my lawless will\nSome elephant by night to kill,\nSome buffalo that came to drink,\nOr tiger, at the river\u2019s brink.\nWhen all around was dark and still,\nI heard a pitcher slowly fill,\nAnd thought, obscured in deepest shade,\nAn elephant the sound had made.\nI drew a shaft that glittered bright,\nFell as a serpent\u2019s venomed bite;\nI longed to lay the monster dead,\nAnd to the mark my arrow sped.\nThen in the calm of morning, clear\nA hermit\u2019s wailing smote my ear:\n\u201cAh me, ah me,\u201d he cried, and sank,\nPierced by my arrow, on the bank.\nE\u2019en as the weapon smote his side,\nI heard a human voice that cried:\n\u201cWhy lights this shaft on one like me,\nA poor and harmless devotee?\nI came by night to fill my jar\nFrom this lone stream where no men are.\nAh, who this deadly shaft has shot?\nWhom have I wronged, and knew it not?\nWhy should a boy so harmless feel\nThe vengeance of the winged steel?\nOr who should slay the guiltless son\nOf hermit sire who injures none,\nWho dwells retired in woods, and there\nSupports his life on woodland fare?\nAh me, ah me, why am I slain,\nWhat booty will the murderer gain?\nIn hermit coils I bind my hair,\nCoats made of skin and bark I wear.\nAh, who the cruel deed can praise\nWhose idle toil no fruit repays,\nAs impious as the wretch\u2019s crime\nWho dares his master\u2019s bed to climb?\nNor does my parting spirit grieve\nBut for the life which thus I leave:\nAlas, my mother and my sire,\u2014\nI mourn for them when I expire.\nAh me, that aged, helpless pair,\nLong cherished by my watchful care,\nHow will it be with them this day\nWhen to the Five(336) I pass away?\nPierced by the self-same dart we die,\nMine aged mother, sire, and I.\nWhose mighty hand, whose lawless mind\nHas all the three to death consigned?\u201d\n\n  When I, by love of duty stirred,\nThat touching lamentation heard,\nPierced to the heart by sudden woe,\nI threw to earth my shafts and bow.\nMy heart was full of grief and dread\nAs swiftly to the place I sped,\nWhere, by my arrow wounded sore,\nA hermit lay on Sarj\u00fa\u2019s shore.\nHis matted hair was all unbound,\nHis pitcher empty on the ground,\nAnd by the fatal arrow pained,\nHe lay with dust and gore distained.\nI stood confounded and amazed:\nHis dying eyes to mine he raised,\nAnd spoke this speech in accents stern,\nAs though his light my soul would burn:\n\u201cHow have I wronged thee, King, that I\nStruck by thy mortal arrow die?\nThe wood my home, this jar I brought,\nAnd water for my parents sought.\nThis one keen shaft that strikes me through\nSlays sire and aged mother too.\nFeeble and blind, in helpless pain,\nThey wait for me and thirst in vain.\nThey with parched lips their pangs must bear,\nAnd hope will end in blank despair.\nAh me, there seems no fruit in store\nFor holy zeal or Scripture lore,\nOr else ere now my sire would know\nThat his dear son is lying low.\nYet, if my mournful fate he knew,\nWhat could his arm so feeble do?\nThe tree, firm-rooted, ne\u2019er may be\nThe guardian of a stricken tree.\nHaste to my father, and relate\nWhile time allows, my sudden fate,\nLest he consume thee as the fire\nBurns up the forest, in his ire.\nThis little path, O King, pursue:\nMy father\u2019s cot thou soon wilt view.\nThere sue for pardon to the sage,\nLest he should curse thee in his rage.\nFirst from the wound extract the dart\nThat kills me with its deadly smart,\nE\u2019en as the flushed impetuous tide\nEats through the river\u2019s yielding side.\u201d\n\n  I feared to draw the arrow out,\nAnd pondered thus in painful doubt:\n\u201cNow tortured by the shaft he lies,\nBut if I draw it forth he dies.\u201d\nHelpless I stood, faint, sorely grieved:\nThe hermit\u2019s son my thought perceived;\nAs one o\u2019ercome by direst pain\nHe scarce had strength to speak again.\nWith writhing limb and struggling breath,\nNearer and ever nearer death\n\u201cMy senses undisturbed remain,\nAnd fortitude has conquered pain:\nNow from one tear thy soul be freed.\nThy hand has made a Br\u00e1hman bleed.\nLet not this pang thy bosom wring:\nNo twice-born youth am I, O King,\nFor of a Vai\u015bya sire I came,\nWho wedded with a \u015a\u00fadra dame.\u201d\n\n  These words the boy could scarcely say,\nAs tortured by the shaft he lay,\nTwisting his helpless body round,\nThen trembling senseless on the ground.\nThen from his bleeding side I drew\nThe rankling shaft that pierced him through.\nWith death\u2019s last fear my face he eyed,\nAnd, rich in store of penance, died.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIV. Dasaratha\u2019s Death.\n\n\nThe son of Raghu to his queen\nThus far described the unequalled scene,\nAnd, as the hermit\u2019s death he rued,\nThe mournful story thus renewed:\n\u201cThe deed my heedless hand had wrought\nPerplexed me with remorseful thought,\nAnd all alone I pondered still\nHow kindly deed might salve the ill.\nThe pitcher from the ground I took,\nAnd filled it from that fairest brook,\nThen, by the path the hermit showed,\nI reached his sainted sire\u2019s abode.\nI came, I saw: the aged pair,\nFeeble and blind, were sitting there,\nLike birds with clipped wings, side by side,\nWith none their helpless steps to guide.\nTheir idle hours the twain beguiled\nWith talk of their returning child,\nAnd still the cheering hope enjoyed,\nThe hope, alas, by me destroyed.\nThen spoke the sage, as drawing near\nThe sound of footsteps reached his ear:\n\u201cDear son, the water quickly bring;\nWhy hast thou made this tarrying?\nThy mother thirsts, and thou hast played,\nAnd bathing in the brook delayed.\nShe weeps because thou camest not;\nHaste, O my son, within the cot.\nIf she or I have ever done\nA thing to pain thee, dearest son,\nDismiss the memory from thy mind:\nA hermit thou, be good and kind.\nOn thee our lives, our all, depend:\nThou art thy friendless parents\u2019 friend.\nThe eyeless couple\u2019s eye art thou:\nThen why so cold and silent now?\u201d\n\n  With sobbing voice and bosom wrung\nI scarce could move my faltering tongue,\nAnd with my spirit filled with dread\nI looked upon the sage, and said,\nWhile mind, and sense, and nerve I strung\nTo fortify my trembling tongue,\nAnd let the aged hermit know\nHis son\u2019s sad fate, my fear and woe:\n\u201cHigh-minded Saint, not I thy child,\nA warrior, Da\u015baratha styled.\nI bear a grievous sorrow\u2019s weight\nBorn of a deed which good men hate.\nMy lord, I came to Sarj\u00fa\u2019s shore,\nAnd in my hand my bow I bore\nFor elephant or beast of chase\nThat seeks by night his drinking place.\nThere from the stream a sound I heard\nAs if a jar the water stirred.\nAn elephant, I thought, was nigh:\nI aimed, and let an arrow fly.\nSwift to the place I made my way,\nAnd there a wounded hermit lay\nGasping for breath: the deadly dart\nStood quivering in his youthful heart.\nI hastened near with pain oppressed;\nHe faltered out his last behest.\nAnd quickly, as he bade me do,\nFrom his pierced side the shaft I drew.\nI drew the arrow from the rent,\nAnd up to heaven the hermit went,\nLamenting, as from earth he passed,\nHis aged parents to the last.\nThus, unaware, the deed was done:\nMy hand, unwitting, killed thy son.\nFor what remains, O, let me win\nThy pardon for my heedless sin.\u201d\n\n  As the sad tale of sin I told\nThe hermit\u2019s grief was uncontrolled.\nWith flooded eyes, and sorrow-faint,\nThus spake the venerable saint:\nI stood with hand to hand applied,\nAnd listened as he spoke and sighed:\n\u201cIf thou, O King, hadst left unsaid\nBy thine own tongue this tale of dread,\nThy head for hideous guilt accursed\nHad in a thousand pieces burst.\nA hermit\u2019s blood by warrior spilt,\nIn such a case, with purposed guilt,\nDown from his high estate would bring\nEven the thunder\u2019s mighty King.\nAnd he a dart who conscious sends\nAgainst the devotee who spends\nHis pure life by the law of Heaven\u2014\nThat sinner\u2019s head will split in seven.\nThou livest, for thy heedless hand\nHas wrought a deed thou hast not planned,\nElse thou and all of Raghu\u2019s line\nHad perished by this act of thine.\nNow guide us,\u201d thus the hermit said,\n\u201cForth to the spot where he lies dead.\nGuide us, this day, O Monarch, we\nFor the last time our son would see:\nThe hermit dress of skin he wore\nRent from his limbs distained with gore;\nHis senseless body lying slain,\nHis soul in Yama\u2019s dark domain.\u201d\n\n  Alone the mourning pair I led,\nTheir souls with woe disquieted,\nAnd let the dame and hermit lay\nTheir hands upon the breathless clay.\nThe father touched his son, and pressed\nThe body to his aged breast;\nThen falling by the dead boy\u2019s side,\nHe lifted up his voice, and cried:\n\n  \u201cHast thou no word, my child, to say?\nNo greeting for thy sire to-day?\nWhy art thou angry, darling? why\nWilt thou upon the cold earth lie?\nIf thou, my son, art wroth with me,\nHere, duteous child, thy mother see.\nWhat! no embrace for me, my son?\nNo word of tender love\u2014not one?\nWhose gentle voice, so soft and clear,\nSoothing my spirit, shall I hear\nWhen evening comes, with accents sweet\nScripture or ancient lore repeat?\nWho, having fed the sacred fire,\nAnd duly bathed, as texts require,\nWill cheer, when evening rites are done,\nThe father mourning for his son?\nWho will the daily meal provide\nFor the poor wretch who lacks a guide,\nFeeding the helpless with the best\nBerries and roots, like some dear guest?\nHow can these hands subsistence find\nFor thy poor mother, old and blind?\nThe wretched votaress how sustain,\nWho mourns her child in ceaseless pain?\nStay yet a while, my darling, stay,\nNor fly to Yama\u2019s realm to-day.\nTo-morrow I thy sire and she\nWho bare thee, child, will go with, thee.(337)\nThen when I look on Yama, I\nTo great Vivasvat\u2019s son will cry:\n\u201cHear, King of justice, and restore\nOur child to feed us, I implore.\nLord of the world, of mighty fame,\nFaithful and just, admit my claim,\nAnd grant this single boon to free\nMy soul from fear, to one like me.\u201d\nBecause, my son, untouched by stain,\nBy sinful hands thou fallest slain,\nWin, through thy truth, the sphere where those\nWho die by hostile darts repose.\nSeek the blest home prepared for all\nThe valiant who in battle fall,\nWho face the foe and scorn to yield,\nIn glory dying on the field.\nRise to the heaven where Dhundhum\u00e1r\nAnd Nahush, mighty heroes, are,\nWhere Janamejay and the blest\nDil\u00edpa, Sagar, Saivya, rest:\nHome of all virtuous spirits, earned\nBy fervent rites and Scripture learned:\nBy those whose sacred fires have glowed,\nWhose liberal hands have fields bestowed:\nBy givers of a thousand cows,\nBy lovers of one faithful spouse:\nBy those who serve their masters well,\nAnd cast away this earthly shell.\nNone of my race can ever know\nThe bitter pain of lasting woe.\nBut doomed to that dire fate is he\nWhose guilty hand has slaughtered thee.\u201d\n\n  Thus with wild tears the aged saint\nMade many a time his piteous plaint,\nThen with his wife began to shed\nThe funeral water for the dead.\nBut in a shape celestial clad,\nWon by the merits of the lad,\nThe spirit from the body brake\nAnd to the mourning parents spake:\n\u201cA glorious home in realms above\nRewards my care and filial love.\nYou, honoured parents, soon shall be\nPartakers of that home with me.\u201d\n\n  He spake, and swiftly mounting high,\nWith Indra near him, to the sky\nOn a bright car, with flame that glowed,\nSublime the duteous hermit rode.\n\n  The father, with his consort\u2019s aid,\nThe funeral rites with water paid,\nAnd thus his speech to me renewed\nWho stood in suppliant attitude:\n\u201cSlay me this day, O, slay me, King,\nFor death no longer has a sting.\nChildless am I: thy dart has done\nTo death my dear, my only son.\nBecause the boy I loved so well\nSlain by thy heedless arrow fell,\nMy curse upon thy soul shall press\nWith bitter woe and heaviness.\nI mourn a slaughtered child, and thou\nShalt feel the pangs that kill me now.\nBereft and suffering e\u2019en as I,\nSo shalt thou mourn thy son, and die.\nThy hand unwitting dealt the blow\nThat laid a holy hermit low,\nAnd distant, therefore, is the time\nWhen thou shalt suffer for the crime.\nThe hour shall come when, crushed by woes\nLike these I feel, thy life shall close:\nA debt to pay in after days\nLike his the priestly fee who pays.\u201d\n\n  This curse on me the hermit laid,\nNor yet his tears and groans were stayed.\nThen on the pyre their bodies cast\nThe pair; and straight to heaven they passed.\nAs in sad thought I pondered long\nBack to my memory came the wrong\nDone in wild youth, O lady dear,\nWhen \u2019twas my boast to shoot by ear.\nThe deed has borne the fruit, which now\nHangs ripe upon the bending bough:\nThus dainty meats the palate please,\nAnd lure the weak to swift disease.\nNow on my soul return with dread\nThe words that noble hermit said,\nThat I for a dear son should grieve,\nAnd of the woe my life should leave.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the king with many a tear;\nThen to his wife he cried in fear:\n\u201cI cannot see thee, love; but lay\nThy gentle hand in mine, I pray.\nAh me, if R\u00e1ma touched me thus,\nIf once, returning home to us,\nHe bade me wealth and lordship give,\nThen, so I think, my soul would live.\nUnlike myself, unjust and mean\nHave been my ways with him, my Queen,\nBut like himself is all that he,\nMy noble son, has done to me.\nHis son, though far from right he stray,\nWhat prudent sire would cast away?\nWhat banished son would check his ire,\nNor speak reproaches of his sire?\nI see thee not: these eyes grow blind,\nAnd memory quits my troubled mind.\nAngels of Death are round me: they\nSummon my soul with speed away.\nWhat woe more grievous can there be,\nThat, when from light and life I flee,\nI may not, ere I part, behold\nMy virtuous R\u00e1ma, true and bold?\nGrief for my son, the brave and true,\nWhose joy it was my will to do,\nDries up my breath, as summer dries\nThe last drop in the pool that lies.\nNot men, but blessed Gods, are they\nWhose eyes shall see his face that day;\nSee him, when fourteen years are past,\nWith earrings decked return at last.\nMy fainting mind forgets to think:\nLow and more low my spirits sink.\nEach from its seat, my senses steal:\nI cannot hear, or taste, or feel.\nThis lethargy of soul o\u2019ercomes\nEach organ, and its function numbs:\nSo when the oil begins to fail,\nThe torch\u2019s rays grow faint and pale.\nThis flood of woe caused by this hand\nDestroys me helpless and unmanned,\nResistless as the floods that bore\nA passage through the river shore.\nAh Raghu\u2019s son, ah mighty-armed,\nBy whom my cares were soothed and charmed,\nMy son in whom I took delight,\nNow vanished from thy father\u2019s sight!\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, ah, I cannot see;\nSumitr\u00e1, gentle devotee!\nAlas, Kaikey\u00ed, cruel dame,\nMy bitter foe, thy father\u2019s shame!\u201d\n\n  Kau\u015baly\u00e1 and Sumitr\u00e1 kept\nTheir watch beside him as he wept.\nAnd Da\u015baratha moaned and sighed,\nAnd grieving for his darling died.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXV. The Women\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nAnd now the night had past away,\nAnd brightly dawned another day;\nThe minstrels, trained to play and sing,\nFlocked to the chamber of the king:\nBards, who their gayest raiment wore,\nAnd heralds famed for ancient lore:\nAnd singers, with their songs of praise,\nMade music in their several ways.\nThere as they poured their blessings choice\nAnd hailed their king with hand and voice,\nTheir praises with a swelling roar\nEchoed through court and corridor.\nThen as the bards his glory sang,\nFrom beaten palms loud answer rang,\nAs glad applauders clapped their hands,\nAnd told his deeds in distant lands.\nThe swelling concert woke a throng\nOf sleeping birds to life and song:\nSome in the branches of the trees,\nSome caged in halls and galleries.\nNor was the soft string music mute;\nThe gentle whisper of the lute,\nAnd blessings sung by singers skilled\nThe palace of the monarch filled.\nEunuchs and dames of life unstained,\nEach in the arts of waiting trained,\nDrew near attentive as before,\nAnd crowded to the chamber door:\nThese skilful when and how to shed\nThe lustral stream o\u2019er limb and head,\nOthers with golden ewers stood\nOf water stained with sandal wood.\nAnd many a maid, pure, young, and fair,\nHer load of early offerings bare,\nCups of the flood which all revere,\nAnd sacred things, and toilet gear.\nEach several thing was duly brought\nAs rule of old observance taught,\nAnd lucky signs on each impressed\nStamped it the fairest and the best.\nThere anxious, in their long array,\nAll waited till the shine of day:\nBut when the king nor rose nor spoke,\nDoubt and alarm within them woke.\nForthwith the dames, by duty led,\nAttendants on the monarch\u2019s bed,\nWithin the royal chamber pressed\nTo wake their master from his rest.\nSkilled in the lore of dreaming, they\nFirst touched the bed on which he lay.\nBut none replied; no sound was heard,\nNor hand, nor head, nor body stirred.\nThey trembled, and their dread increased,\nFearing his breath of life had ceased,\nAnd bending low their heads, they shook\nLike the tall reeds that fringe the brook.\nIn doubt and terror down they knelt,\nLooked on his face, his cold hand felt,\nAnd then the gloomy truth appeared\nOf all their hearts had darkly feared.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 and Sumitr\u00e1, worn\nWith weeping for their sons, forlorn,\nWoke not, but lay in slumber deep\nAnd still as death\u2019s unending sleep.\nBowed down by grief, her colour fled,\nHer wonted lustre dull and dead,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 shone not, like a star\nObscured behind a cloudy bar.\nBeside the king\u2019s her couch was spread,\nAnd next was Queen Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s bed,\nWho shone no more with beauty\u2019s glow,\nHer face bedewed with tears of woe.\nThere lapped in sleep each wearied queen,\nThere as in sleep, the king was seen;\nAnd swift the troubling thought came o\u2019er\nTheir spirits that he breathed no more.\nAt once with wailing loud and high\nThe matrons shrieked a bitter cry,\nAs widowed elephants bewail\nTheir dead lord in the woody vale.\nAt the loud shriek that round them rang,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 and Sumitr\u00e1 sprang\nAwakened from their beds, with eyes\nWide open in their first surprise.\nQuick to the monarch\u2019s side they came,\nAnd saw and touched his lifeless frame;\nOne cry, O husband! forth they sent,\nAnd prostrate to the ground they went.\nThe king of Ko\u015bal\u2019s daughter(338) there\nWrithed, with the dust on limb and hair\nLustreless, as a star might lie\nHurled downward from the glorious sky.\nWhen the king\u2019s voice in death was stilled,\nThe women who the chamber filled\nSaw, like a widow elephant slain,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 prostrate in her pain.\nThen all the monarch\u2019s ladies led\nBy Queen Kaikey\u00ed at their head,\nPoured forth their tears, and weeping so,\nSank on the ground, consumed by woe.\nThe cry of grief so long and loud\nWent up from all the royal crowd,\nThat, doubled by the matron train,\nIt made the palace ring again.\nFilled with dark fear and eager eyes,\nAnxiety and wild surmise;\nEchoing with the cries of grief\nOf sorrowing friends who mourned their chief,\nDejected, pale with deep distress,\nHurled from their height of happiness:\nSuch was the look the palace wore\nWhere lay the king who breathed no more.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVI. The Embalming.\n\n\nKau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s eyes with tears o\u2019erflowed,\nWeighed down by varied sorrows\u2019 load;\nOn her dead lord her gaze she bent,\nWho lay like fire whose might is spent,\nLike the great deep with waters dry,\nOr like the clouded sun on high.\nThen on her lap she laid his head.\nAnd on Kaikey\u00ed looked and said:\n\u201cTriumphant now enjoy thy reign\nWithout a thorn thy side to pain.\nThou hast pursued thy single aim,\nAnd killed the king, O wicked dame.\nFar from my sight my R\u00e1ma flies,\nMy perished lord has sought the skies.\nNo friend, no hope my life to cheer,\nI cannot tread the dark path here.\nWho would forsake her husband, who\nThat God to whom her love is due,\nAnd wish to live one hour, but she\nWhose heart no duty owns, like thee?\nThe ravenous sees no fault: his greed\nWill e\u2019en on poison blindly feed.\nKaikey\u00ed, through a hump-back maid,\nThis royal house in death has laid.\nKing Janak, with his queen, will hear\nHeart rent like me the tidings drear\nOf R\u00e1ma banished by the king,\nUrged by her impious counselling.\nNo son has he, his age is great,\nAnd sinking with the double weight,\nHe for his darling child will pine,\nAnd pierced with woe his life resign.\nSprung from Videha\u2019s monarch, she\nA sad and lovely devotee,\nRoaming the wood, unmeet for woe,\nWill toil and trouble undergo.\nShe in the gloomy night with fear\nThe cries of beast and bird will hear,\nAnd trembling in her wild alarm\nWill cling to R\u00e1ma\u2019s sheltering arm.\nAh, little knows my duteous son\nThat I am widowed and undone\u2014\nMy R\u00e1ma of the lotus eye,\nGone hence, gone hence, alas, to die.\nNow, as a living wife and true,\nI, e\u2019en this day, will perish too:\nAround his form these arms will throw\nAnd to the fire with him will go.\u201d\n\n  Clasping her husband\u2019s lifeless clay\nA while the weeping votaress lay,\nTill chamberlains removed her thence\nO\u2019ercome by sorrow\u2019s violence.\nThen in a cask of oil they laid\nHim who in life the world had swayed,\nAnd finished, as the lords desired,\nAll rites for parted souls required.\nThe lords, all-wise, refused to burn\nThe monarch ere his son\u2019s return;\nSo for a while the corpse they set\nEmbalmed in oil, and waited yet.\nThe women heard: no doubt remained,\nAnd wildly for the king they plained.\nWith gushing tears that drowned each eye\nWildly they waved their arms on high,\nAnd each her mangling nails impressed\nDeep in her head and knee and breast:\n\u201cOf R\u00e1ma reft,\u2014who ever spake\nThe sweetest words the heart to take,\nWho firmly to the truth would cling,\u2014\nWhy dost thou leave us, mighty King?\nHow can the consorts thou hast left\nWidowed, of Raghu\u2019s son bereft,\nLive with our foe Kaikey\u00ed near,\nThe wicked queen we hate and fear?\nShe threw away the king, her spite\nDrove R\u00e1ma forth and Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s might,\nAnd gentle S\u00edt\u00e1: how will she\nSpare any, whosoe\u2019er it be?\u201d\n\n  Oppressed with sorrow, tear-distained,\nThe royal women thus complained.\nLike night when not a star appears,\nLike a sad widow drowned in tears,\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s city, dark and dim,\nReft of her lord was sad for him.\nWhen thus for woe the king to heaven had fled,\n  And still on earth his lovely wives remained.\nWith dying light the sun to rest had sped,\n  And night triumphant o\u2019er the landscape reigned.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVII. The Praise Of Kings.\n\n\nThat night of sorrow passed away,\nAnd rose again the God of Day.\nThen all the twice-born peers of state\nTogether met for high debate.\nJ\u00e1v\u00e1l\u00ed, lord of mighty fame.\nAnd Gautam, and K\u00e1ty\u00e1yan came,\nAnd M\u00e1rkandeya\u2019s reverend age,\nAnd V\u00e1madeva, glorious sage:\nSprung from Mudgalya\u2019s seed the one,\nThe other ancient Ka\u015byap\u2019s son.\nWith lesser lords these Br\u00e1hmans each\nSpoke in his turn his several speech,\nAnd turning to Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, best\nOf household priests him thus addressed:\n\u201cThe night of bitter woe has past,\nWhich seemed a hundred years to last,\nOur king, in sorrow for his son,\nReunion with the Five has won.\nHis soul is where the blessed are,\nWhile R\u00e1ma roams in woods afar,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, bright in glorious deeds,\nGoes where his well-loved brother leads.\nAnd Bharat and \u015aatrughna, they\nWho smite their foes in battle fray,\nFar in the realm of Kekaya stay,\nWhere their maternal grandsire\u2019s care\nKeeps R\u00e1jagriha\u2019s city fair.\nLet one of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race\nObtain this day the sovereign\u2019s place,\nOr havoc and destruction straight\nOur kingless land will devastate.\nIn kingless lands no thunder\u2019s voice,\nNo lightning wreaths the heart rejoice,\nNor does Parjanya\u2019s heavenly rain\nDescend upon the burning plain.\nWhere none is king, the sower\u2019s hand\nCasts not the seed upon the land;\nThe son against the father strives.\nAnd husbands fail to rule their wives.\nIn kingless realms no princes call\nTheir friends to meet in crowded hall;\nNo joyful citizens resort\nTo garden trim or sacred court.\nIn kingless realms no Twice-born care\nTo sacrifice with text and prayer,\nNor Br\u00e1hmans, who their vows maintain,\nThe great solemnities ordain.\nThe joys of happier days have ceased:\nNo gathering, festival, or feast\nTogether calls the merry throng\nDelighted with the play and song.\nIn kingless lands it ne\u2019er is well\nWith sons of trade who buy and sell:\nNo men who pleasant tales repeat\nDelight the crowd with stories sweet.\nIn kingless realms we ne\u2019er behold\nYoung maidens decked with gems and gold,\nFlock to the gardens blithe and gay\nTo spend their evening hours in play.\nNo lover in the flying car\nRides with his love to woods afar.\nIn kingless lands no wealthy swain\nWho keeps the herd and reaps the grain,\nLies sleeping, blest with ample store,\nSecurely near his open door.\nUpon the royal roads we see\nNo tusked elephant roaming free,\nOf three-score years, whose head and neck\nSweet tinkling bells of silver deck.\nWe hear no more the glad applause\nWhen his strong bow each rival draws,\nNo clap of hands, no eager cries\nThat cheer each martial exercise.\nIn kingless realms no merchant bands\nWho travel forth to distant lands,\nWith precious wares their wagons load,\nAnd fear no danger on the road.\nNo sage secure in self-control,\nBrooding on God with mind and soul,\nIn lonely wanderings finds his home\nWhere\u2019er at eve his feet may roam.\nIn kingless realms no man is sure\nHe holds his life and wealth secure.\nIn kingless lands no warriors smite\nThe foeman\u2019s host in glorious fight.\nIn kingless lands the wise no more,\nWell trained in Scripture\u2019s holy lore,\nIn shady groves and gardens meet\nTo argue in their calm retreat.\nNo longer, in religious fear,\nDo they who pious vows revere,\nBring dainty cates and wreaths of flowers\nAs offerings to the heavenly powers.\nNo longer, bright as trees in spring,\nShine forth the children of the king\nResplendent in the people\u2019s eyes\nWith aloe wood and sandal dyes.\nA brook where water once has been,\nA grove where grass no more is green,\nKine with no herdsman\u2019s guiding hand\u2014\nSo wretched is a kingless land.\nThe car its waving banner rears,\nBanner of fire the smoke appears:\nOur king, the banner of our pride,\nA God with Gods is glorified.\nIn kingless lands no law is known,\nAnd none may call his wealth his own,\nEach preys on each from hour to hour,\nAs fish the weaker fish devour.\nThen fearless, atheists overleap\nThe bounds of right the godly keep,\nAnd when no royal powers restrain,\nPre\u00ebminence and lordship gain.\nAs in the frame of man the eye\nKeeps watch and ward, a careful spy,\nThe monarch in his wide domains\nProtects the truth, the right maintains.\nHe is the right, the truth is he,\nTheir hopes in him the well-born see.\nOn him his people\u2019s lives depend,\nMother is he, and sire, and friend.\nThe world were veiled in blinding night,\nAnd none could see or know aright,\nRuled there no king in any state\nThe good and ill to separate.\nWe will obey thy word and will\nAs if our king were living still:\nAs keeps his bounds the faithful sea,\nSo we observe thy high decree.\nO best of Br\u00e1hmans, first in place,\n  Our kingless land lies desolate:\nSome scion of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race\n  Do thou as monarch consecrate.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVIII. The Envoys.\n\n\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha heard their speech and prayer,\nAnd thus addressed the concourse there,\nFriends, Br\u00e1hmans, counsellors, and all\nAssembled in the palace hall:\n\u201cYe know that Bharat, free from care,\nStill lives in R\u00e1jagriha(339) where\nThe father of his mother reigns:\n\u015aatrughna by his side remains.\nLet active envoys, good at need,\nThither on fleetest horses speed,\nTo bring the hero youths away:\nWhy waste the time in dull delay?\u201d\n\n  Quick came from all the glad reply:\n\u201cVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, let the envoys fly!\u201d\nHe heard their speech, and thus renewed\nHis charge before the multitude:\n\u201cNandan, A\u015bok, Siddh\u00e1rth, attend,\nYour ears, Jayanta, Vijay, lend:\nBe yours, what need requires, to do:\nI speak these words to all of you.\nWith coursers of the fleetest breed\nTo R\u00e1jagriha\u2019s city speed.\nThen rid your bosoms of distress,\nAnd Bharat thus from me address:\n\u201cThe household priest and peers by us\nSend health to thee and greet thee thus:\nCome to thy father\u2019s home with haste:\nThine absent time no longer waste.\u201d\nBut speak no word of R\u00e1ma fled,\nTell not the prince his sire is dead,\nNor to the royal youth the fate\nThat ruins Raghu\u2019s race relate.\nGo quickly hence, and with you bear\nFine silken vestures rich and rare,\nAnd gems and many a precious thing\nAs gifts to Bharat and the king.\u201d\n\n  With ample stores of food supplied,\nEach to his home the envoys hied,\nPrepared, with steeds of swiftest race,\nTo Kekaya\u2019s land(340) their way to trace.\nThey made all due provision there,\nAnd every need arranged with care,\nThen ordered by Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, they\nWent forth with speed upon their way.\nThen northward of Pralamba, west\nOf Apart\u00e1la, on they pressed,\nCrossing the M\u00e1lin\u00ed that flowed\nWith gentle stream athwart the road.\nThey traversed Gang\u00e1\u2019s holy waves\nWhere she H\u00e1stinapura(341) laves,\nThence to Panch\u00e1la(342) westward fast\nThrough Kuruj\u00e1ngal\u2019s land(343) they passed.\nOn, on their course the envoys held\nBy urgency of task impelled.\nQuick glancing at each lucid flood\nAnd sweet lake gay with flower and bud.\nBeyond, they passed unwearied o\u2019er,\nWhere glad birds fill the flood and shore\nOf \u015aarada\u1e47\u1e0d\u00e1 racing fleet\nWith heavenly water clear and sweet,\nThereby a tree celestial grows\nWhich every boon on prayer bestows:\nTo its blest shade they humbly bent,\nThen to Kuling\u00e1\u2019s town they went.\nThen, having passed the Warrior\u2019s Wood,\nIn Abhik\u00e1la next they stood,\nO\u2019er sacred Ikshumat\u00ed(344) came,\nTheir ancient kings\u2019 ancestral claim.\nThey saw the learned Br\u00e1hmans stand,\nEach drinking from his hollowed hand,\nAnd through B\u00e1h\u00edka(345) journeying still\nThey reached at length Sud\u00e1man\u2019s hill:\nThere Vish\u1e47u\u2019s footstep turned to see,\nVip\u00e1\u015b\u00e1(346) viewed, and \u015a\u00e1lmal\u00ed,\nAnd many a lake and river met,\nTank, pool, and pond, and rivulet.\nAnd lions saw, and tigers near,\nAnd elephants and herds of deer,\nAnd still, by prompt obedience led,\nAlong the ample road they sped.\nThen when their course so swift and long,\nHad worn their steeds though fleet and strong,\nTo Girivraja\u2019s splendid town\nThey came by night, and lighted down.\nTo please their master, and to guard\n    The royal race, the lineal right,\n  The envoys, spent with riding hard,\n    To that fair city came by night.(347)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIX. Bharat\u2019s Dream.\n\n\nThe night those messengers of state\nHad past within the city\u2019s gate,\nIn dreams the slumbering Bharat saw\nA sight that chilled his soul with awe.\nThe dream that dire events foretold\nLeft Bharat\u2019s heart with horror cold,\nAnd with consuming woes distraught,\nUpon his aged sire he thought.\nHis dear companions, swift to trace\nThe signs of anguish on his face,\nDrew near, his sorrow to expel,\nAnd pleasant tales began to tell.\nSome woke sweet music\u2019s cheering sound,\nAnd others danced in lively round.\nWith joke and jest they strove to raise\nHis spirits, quoting ancient plays;\nBut Bharat still, the lofty-souled,\nDeaf to sweet tales his fellows told,\nUnmoved by music, dance, and jest,\nSat silent, by his woe oppressed.\nTo him, begirt by comrades near,\nThus spoke the friend he held most dear:\n\u201cWhy ringed around by friends, art thou\nSo silent and so mournful now?\u201d\n\u201cHear thou,\u201d thus Bharat made reply,\n\u201cWhat chills my heart and dims mine eye.\nI dreamt I saw the king my sire\nSink headlong in a lake of mire\nDown from a mountain high in air,\nHis body soiled, and loose his hair.\nUpon the miry lake he seemed\nTo lie and welter, as I dreamed;\nWith hollowed hands full many a draught\nOf oil he took, and loudly laughed.\nWith head cast down I saw him make\nA meal on sesamum and cake;\nThe oil from every member dripped,\nAnd in its clammy flood he dipped.\nThe ocean\u2019s bed was bare and dry,\nThe moon had fallen from the sky,\nAnd all the world lay still and dead,\nWith whelming darkness overspread.\nThe earth was rent and opened wide,\nThe leafy trees were scorched, and died;\nI saw the seated mountains split,\nAnd wreaths of rising smoke emit.\nThe stately beast the monarch rode\nHis long tusks rent and splintered showed;\nAnd flames that quenched and cold had lain\nBlazed forth with kindled light again.\nI looked, and many a handsome dame,\nArrayed in brown and sable came\nAnd bore about the monarch, dressed,\nOn iron stool, in sable vest.\nAnd then the king, of virtuous mind,\nA blood-red wreath around him twined,\nForth on an ass-drawn chariot sped,\nAs southward still he bent his head.\nThen, crimson-clad, a dame appeared\nWho at the monarch laughed and jeered;\nAnd a she-monster, dire to view,\nHer hand upon his body threw.\nSuch is the dream I dreamt by night,\nWhich chills me yet with wild affright:\nEither the king or R\u00e1ma, I\nOr Lakshma\u1e47 now must surely die.\nFor when an ass-drawn chariot seems\nTo bear away a man in dreams,\nBe sure above his funeral pyre\nThe smoke soon rears its cloudy spire.\nThis makes my spirit low and weak,\nMy tongue is slow and loth to speak:\nMy lips and throat are dry for dread,\nAnd all my soul disquieted.\nMy lips, relaxed, can hardly speak,\nAnd chilling dread has changed my cheek\nI blame myself in aimless fears,\nAnd still no cause of blame appears.\nI dwell upon this dream of ill\n    Whose changing scenes I viewed,\n  And on the startling horror still\n    My troubled thoughts will brood.\n  Still to my soul these terrors cling,\n    Reluctant to depart,\n  And the strange vision of the king\n    Still weighs upon my heart.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXX. Bharat\u2019s Departure.\n\n\nWhile thus he spoke, the envoys borne\nOn horses faint and travel-worn\nHad gained the city fenced around\nWith a deep moat\u2019s protecting bound.\nAn audience of the king they gained,\nAnd honours from the prince obtained;\nThe monarch\u2019s feet they humbly pressed,\nTo Bharat next these words addressed:\n\u201cThe household priest and peers by us\nSend health to thee and greet thee thus:\n\u201cCome to thy father\u2019s house with haste:\nThine absent time no longer waste.\u201d\nReceive these vestures rich and rare,\nThese costly gems and jewels fair,\nAnd to thy uncle here present\nEach precious robe and ornament.\nThese for the king and him suffice\u2014\nTwo hundred millions is their price\u2014\nThese, worth a hundred millions, be\nReserved, O large-eyed Prince, for thee.\u201d\n\n  Loving his friends with heart and soul,\nThe joyful prince received the whole,\nDue honour to the envoys paid,\nAnd thus in turn his answer made:\n\u201cOf Da\u015baratha tidings tell:\nIs the old king my father well?\nIs R\u00e1ma, and is Lakshma\u1e47, he\nOf the high-soul, from sickness free?\nAnd she who walks where duty leads,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, known for gracious deeds,\nMother of R\u00e1ma, loving spouse,\nBound to her lord by well kept vows?\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s mother too, the dame\nSumitr\u00e1 skilled in duty\u2019s claim,\nWho brave \u015aatrughna also bare,\nSecond in age,\u2014her health declare.\nAnd she, in self-conceit most sage,\nWith selfish heart most prone to rage,\nMy mother, fares she well? has she\nSent message or command to me?\u201d\n\n  Thus Bharat spake, the mighty-souled,\nAnd they in brief their tidings told:\n\u201cAll they of whom thou askest dwell,\nO lion lord, secure and well:\nThine all the smiles of fortune are:\nMake ready; let them yoke the car.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the royal envoys pressed,\nBharat again the band addressed:\n\u201cI go with you: no long delay,\nA single hour I bid you stay.\u201d\nThus Bharat, son of him who swayed\nAyodhy\u00e1s realm, his answer made,\nAnd then bespoke, his heart to please,\nHis mother\u2019s sire in words like these:\n\u201cI go to see my father, King,\nUrged by the envoys\u2019 summoning;\nAnd when thy soul desires to see\nThy grandson, will return to thee.\u201d\n\n  The king his grandsire kissed his head,\nAnd in reply to Bharat said:\n\u201cGo forth, dear child: how blest is she,\nThe mother of a son like thee!\nGreet well thy sire, thy mother greet,\nO thou whose arms the foe defeat;\nThe household priest, and all the rest\nAmid the Twice-born chief and best;\nAnd R\u00e1ma and brave Lakshma\u1e47, who\nShoot the long shaft with aim so true.\u201d\n\n  To him the king high honour showed,\nAnd store of wealth and gifts bestowed,\nThe choicest elephants to ride,\nAnd skins and blankets deftly dyed,\nA thousand strings of golden beads,\nAnd sixteen hundred mettled steeds:\nAnd boundless wealth before him piled\nGave Kekaya to Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s child.\nAnd men of counsel, good and tried,\nOn whose firm truth he aye relied,\nKing A\u015bvapati gave with speed\nPrince Bharat on his way to lead.\nAnd noble elephants, strong and young,\nFrom sires of Indra\u015bira sprung,\nAnd others tall and fair to view\nOf great Air\u00e1vat\u2019s lineage true:\nAnd well yoked asses fleet of limb\nThe prince his uncle gave to him.\nAnd dogs within the palace bred,\nOf body vast and massive head,\nWith mighty fangs for battle, brave,\nThe tiger\u2019s match in strength, he gave.\nYet Bharat\u2019s bosom hardly glowed\nTo see the wealth the king bestowed;\nFor he would speed that hour away,\nSuch care upon his bosom lay:\nThose eager envoys urged him thence,\nAnd that sad vision\u2019s influence.\nHe left his court-yard, crowded then\nWith elephants and steeds and men,\nAnd, peerless in immortal fame,\nTo the great royal street he came.\nHe saw, as farther still he went,\nThe inner rooms most excellent,\nAnd passed the doors, to him unclosed,\nWhere check nor bar his way oppossd.\nThere Bharat stayed to bid adieu\nTo grandsire and to uncle too,\nThen, with \u015aatrughna by his side,\nMounting his car, away he hied.\nThe strong-wheeled cars were yoked, and they\nMore than a hundred, rolled away:\nServants, with horses, asses, kine,\nFollowed their lord in endless line.\nSo, guarded by his own right hand,\n  Forth high-souled Bharat hied,\nSurrounded by a lordly band\n  On whom the king relied.\nBeside him sat \u015aatrughna dear,\n  The scourge of trembling foes:\nThus from the light of Indra\u2019s sphere\n  A saint made perfect goes.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXI. Bharat\u2019s Return.\n\n\nThen Bharat\u2019s face was eastward bent\nAs from the royal town he went.\nHe reached Sud\u00e1m\u00e1\u2019s farther side,\nAnd glorious, gazed upon the tide;\nPassed Hl\u00e1din\u00ed, and saw her toss\nHer westering billows hard to cross.\nThen old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s famous son\nO\u2019er \u015aatadr\u00fa(348) his passage won,\nNear Ailadh\u00e1na on the strand,\nAnd came to Aparparyat\u2019s land.\nO\u2019er \u015ail\u00e1\u2019s flood he hurried fast,\nAkurvat\u00ed\u2019s fair stream he passed,\nCrossed o\u2019er \u00c1gneya\u2019s rapid rill,\nAnd \u015aalyakartan onward still.\n\u015ail\u00e1vah\u00e1\u2019s swift stream he eyed,\nTrue to his vows and purified,\nThen crossed the lofty hills, and stood\nIn Chaitraratha\u2019s mighty wood.\nHe reached the confluence where meet\nSarasvat\u00ed(349) and Gang\u00e1 fleet,\nAnd through Bh\u00e1ru\u1e47\u1e0da forest, spread\nNorthward of Viramatsya, sped.\nHe sought K\u00e1linda\u2019s child, who fills\nThe soul with joy, begirt by hills,\nReached Yamun\u00e1, and passing o\u2019er,\nRested his army on the shore:\nHe gave his horses food and rest,\nBathed reeking limb and drooping crest.\nThey drank their fill and bathed them there,\nAnd water for their journey bare.\nThence through a mighty wood he sped\nAll wild and uninhabited,\nAs in fair chariot through the skies,\nMost fair in shape a Storm-God flies.\nAt An\u015budh\u00e1na Gang\u00e1, hard\nTo cross, his onward journey barred,\nSo turning quickly thence he came\nTo Pr\u00e1gva\u1e6d\u2019s city dear to fame.\nThere having gained the farther side\nTo Ku\u1e6dikosh\u1e6dik\u00e1 he hied:\nThe stream he crossed, and onward then\nTo Dharmavardhan brought his men.\nThence, leaving Tora\u1e47 on the north,\nTo Jambuprastha journeyed forth.\nThen onward to a pleasant grove\nBy fair Var\u00fatha\u2019s town he drove,\nAnd when a while he there had stayed,\nWent eastward from the friendly shade.\nEastward of Ujjih\u00e1n\u00e1 where\nThe Priyak trees are tall and fair,\nHe passed, and rested there each steed\nExhausted with the journey\u2019s speed.\nThere orders to his men addressed,\nWith quickened pace he onward pressed,\nA while at Sarvat\u00edrtha spent,\nThen o\u2019er Utt\u00e1nik\u00e1 he went.\nO\u2019er many a stream beside he sped\nWith coursers on the mountains bred,\nAnd passing Hastiprish\u1e6dhak, took\nThe road o\u2019er Ku\u1e6dik\u00e1\u2019s fair brook.\nThen, at Lohitya\u2019s village, he\nCrossed o\u2019er the swift Kap\u00edvat\u00ed,\nThen passed, where Eka\u015b\u00e1la stands,\nThe Sth\u00e1\u1e47umat\u00ed\u2019s flood and sands,\nAnd Gomat\u00ed of fair renown\nBy Vinata\u2019s delightful town.\nWhen to Kalinga near he drew,\nA wood of Sal trees charmed the view;\nThat passed, the sun began to rise,\nAnd Bharat saw with happy eyes,\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s city, built and planned\nBy ancient Manu\u2019s royal hand.\nSeven nights upon the road had passed,\nAnd when he saw the town at last\nBefore him in her beauty spread,\nThus Bharat to the driver said:\n\u201cThis glorious city from afar,\nWherein pure groves and gardens are,\nSeems to my eager eyes to-day\nA lifeless pile of yellow clay.\nThrough all her streets where erst a throng\nOf men and women streamed along,\nUprose the multitudinous roar:\nTo-day I hear that sound no more.\nNo longer do mine eyes behold\nThe leading people, as of old,\nOn elephants, cars, horses, go\nAbroad and homeward, to and fro.\nThe brilliant gardens, where we heard\nThe wild note of each rapturous bird,\nWhere men and women loved to meet,\nIn pleasant shades, for pastime sweet,\u2014\nThese to my eyes this day appear\nJoyless, and desolate, and drear:\nEach tree that graced the garden grieves,\nAnd every path is spread with leaves.\nThe merry cry of bird and beast,\nThat spake aloud their joy, has ceased:\nStill is the long melodious note\nThat charmed us from each warbling throat.\nWhy blows the blessed air no more,\nThe incense-breathing air that bore\nIts sweet incomparable scent\nOf sandal and of aloe blent?\nWhy are the drum and tabour mute?\nWhy is the music of the lute\nThat woke responsive to the quill,\nLoved by the happy, hushed and still?\nMy boding spirit gathers hence\nDire sins of awful consequence,\nAnd omens, crowding on my sight,\nWeigh down my soul with wild affright.\nScarce shall I find my friends who dwell\nHere in Ayodhy\u00e1 safe and well:\nFor surely not without a cause\nThis crushing dread my soul o\u2019erawes.\u201d\n\n  Heart sick, dejected, every sense\nConfused by terror\u2019s influence,\nOn to the town he quickly swept\nWhich King Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s children kept.\nHe passed through Vaijayanta\u2019s gate,\nWith weary steeds, disconsolate,\nAnd all who near their station held,\nHis escort, crying Victory, swelled,\nWith heart distracted still he bowed\nFarewell to all the following crowd,\nTurned to the driver and began\nTo question thus the weary man:\n\u201cWhy was I brought, O free from blame,\nSo fast, unknown for what I came?\nYet fear of ill my heart appals,\nAnd all my wonted courage falls.\nFor I have heard in days gone by\nThe changes seen when monarchs die;\nAnd all those signs, O charioteer,\nI see to-day surround me here:\nEach kinsman\u2019s house looks dark and grim,\nNo hand delights to keep it trim:\nThe beauty vanished, and the pride,\nThe doors, unkept, stand open wide.\nNo morning rites are offered there,\nNo grateful incense loads the air,\nAnd all therein, with brows o\u2019ercast,\nSit joyless on the ground and fast.\nTheir lovely chaplets dry and dead,\nTheir courts unswept, with dust o\u2019erspread,\nThe temples of the Gods to-day\nNo more look beautiful and gay.\nNeglected stands each holy shrine,\nEach image of a Lord divine.\nNo shop where flowery wreaths are sold\nIs bright and busy as of old.\nThe women and the men I mark\nAbsorbed in fancies dull and dark,\nTheir gloomy eyes with tears bedewed,\nA poor afflicted multitude.\u201d\n\n  His mind oppressed with woe and dread,\nThus Bharat to his driver said,\nViewed the dire signs Ayodhy\u00e1 showed,\nAnd onward to the palace rode.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXII. Bharat\u2019s Inquiry.\n\n\nHe entered in, he looked around,\nNor in the house his father found;\nThen to his mother\u2019s dwelling, bent\nTo see her face, he quickly went.\nShe saw her son, so long away,\nReturning after many a day,\nAnd from her golden seat in joy\nSprung forward to her darling boy.\nWithin the bower, no longer bright,\nCame Bharat lover of the right,\nAnd bending with observance sweet\nClasped his dear mother\u2019s lovely feet.\nLong kisses on his brow she pressed,\nAnd held her hero to her breast,\nThen fondly drew him to her knees,\nAnd questioned him in words like these:\n\u201cHow many nights have fled, since thou\nLeftest thy grandsire\u2019s home, till now?\nBy flying steeds so swiftly borne,\nArt thou not weak and travel-worn?\nHow fares the king my father, tell:\nIs Yudh\u00e1jit thine uncle well?\nAnd now, my son, at length declare\nThe pleasure of the visit there.\u201d\n\n  Thus to the offspring of the king\nShe spake with tender questioning,\nAnd to his mother made reply\nYoung Bharat of the lotus eye:\n\u201cThe seventh night has come and fled\nSince from my grandsire\u2019s home I sped:\nMy mother\u2019s sire is well, and he,\nYudh\u00e1jit, from all trouble free.\nThe gold and every precious thing\nPresented by the conqueror king,\nThe slower guards behind convey:\nI left them weary on the way.\nUrged by the men my father sent,\nMy hasty course I hither bent:\nNow, I implore, an answer deign,\nAnd all I wish to know, explain.\nUnoccupied I now behold\nThis couch of thine adorned with gold,\nAnd each of King Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race\nAppears with dark and gloomy face.\nThe king is aye, my mother dear,\nMost constant in his visits here.\nTo meet my sire I sought this spot:\nHow is it that I find him not?\nI long to clasp my father\u2019s feet:\nSay where he lingers, I entreat.\nPerchance the monarch may be seen\nWhere dwells Kau\u015baly\u00e1, eldest queen.\u201d\n\n  His father\u2019s fate, from him concealed,\nKaikey\u00ed to her son revealed:\nTold as glad news the story sad,\nFor lust of sway had made her mad:\n\u201cThy father, O my darling, know,\nHas gone the way all life must go:\nDevout and famed, of lofty thought,\nIn whom the good their refuge sought.\u201d\n\n  When Bharat pious, pure, and true,\nHeard the sad words which pierced him through,\nGrieved for the sire he loved so well\nProstrate upon the ground he fell:\nDown fell the strong-armed hero, high\nTossing his arms, and a sad cry,\n\u201cAh, woe is me, unhappy, slain!\u201d\nBurst from his lips again, again,\nAfflicted for his father\u2019s fate\nBy grief\u2019s intolerable weight,\nWith every sense amazed and cowed\nThe splendid hero wailed aloud:\n\u201cAh me, my royal father\u2019s bed\nOf old a gentle radiance shed,\nLike the pure sky when clouds are past,\nAnd the moon\u2019s light is o\u2019er it cast:\nAh, of its wisest lord bereft,\nIt shows to-day faint radiance left,\nAs when the moon has left the sky.\nOr mighty Ocean\u2019s depths are dry.\u201d\n\n  With choking sobs, with many a tear,\nPierced to the heart with grief sincere,\nThe best of conquerors poured his sighs,\nAnd with his robe veiled face and eyes.\nKaikey\u00ed saw him fallen there,\nGodlike, afflicted, in despair,\nUsed every art to move him thence,\nAnd tried him thus with eloquence:\n\u201cArise, arise, my dearest; why\nWilt thou, famed Prince, so lowly lie?\nNot by such grief as this are moved\nGood men like thee, by all approved.\nThe earth thy father nobly swayed,\nAnd rites to Heaven he duly paid.\nAt length his race of life was run:\nThou shouldst not mourn for him, my son.\u201d\n\n  Long on the ground he wept, and rolled\nFrom side to side, still unconsoled,\nAnd then, with bitter grief oppressed,\nHis mother with these words addressed:\n\u201cThis joyful hope my bosom fed\nWhen from my grandsire\u2019s halls I sped\u2014\n\u201cThe king will throne his eldest son,\nAnd sacrifice, as should be done.\u201d\nBut all is changed, my hope was vain,\nAnd this sad heart is rent in twain,\nFor my dear father\u2019s face I miss,\nWho ever sought his loved ones\u2019 bliss.\nBut in my absence, mother, say,\nWhat sickness took my sire away?\nAh, happy R\u00e1ma, happy they\nAllowed his funeral rites to pay!\nThe glorious monarch has not learned\nThat I his darling have returned,\nOr quickly had he hither sped,\nAnd pressed his kisses on my head.\nWhere is that hand whose gentle touch,\nMost soft and kind I loved so much,\nThe hand that loved to brush away\nThe dust that on his darling lay?\nQuick, bear the news to R\u00e1ma\u2019s ear;\nTell the great chief that I am here:\nBrother, and sire, and friend, and all\nIs he, and I his trusty thrall.\nFor noble hearts, to virtue true,\nTheir sires in elder brothers view.\nTo clasp his feet I fain would bow:\nHe is my hope and refuge now.\nWhat said my glorious sire, who knew\nVirtue and vice, so brave and true?\nFirm in his vows, dear lady, say,\nWhat said he ere he passed away?\nWhat was his rede to me? I crave\nTo hear the last advice he gave.\u201d\n\n  Thus closely questioned by the youth,\nKaikey\u00ed spoke the mournful truth:\n\u201cThe high-souled monarch wept and sighed,\nFor R\u00e1ma, S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47, cried,\nThen, best of all who go to bliss,\nPassed to the world which follows this.\n\u201cAh, blessed are the people who\nShall R\u00e1ma and his S\u00edt\u00e1 view,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 of the mighty arm,\nReturning free from scathe and harm.\u201d\nSuch were the words, the last of all,\nThy father, ere he died, let fall,\nBy Fate and Death\u2019s dread coils enwound,\nAs some great elephant is bound.\u201d\n\n  He heard, yet deeper in despair,\nHer lips this double woe declare,\nAnd with sad brow that showed his pain\nQuestioned his mother thus again:\n\u201cBut where is he, of virtue tried,\nWho fills Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s heart with pride,\nWhere is the noble R\u00e1ma? where\nIs Lakshma\u1e47 brave, and S\u00edt\u00e1 fair?\u201d\n\n  Thus pressed, the queen began to tell\nThe story as each thing befell,\nAnd gave her son in words like these,\nThe mournful news she meant to please:\n\u201cThe prince is gone in hermit dress\nTo Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s mighty wilderness,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 brave and S\u00edt\u00e1 share\nThe wanderings of the exile there.\u201d\n\n  Then Bharat\u2019s soul with fear was stirred\nLest R\u00e1ma from the right had erred,\nAnd jealous for ancestral fame,\nHe put this question to the dame:\n\u201cHas R\u00e1ma grasped with lawless hold\nA Br\u00e1hman\u2019s house, or land, or gold?\nHas R\u00e1ma harmed with ill intent\nSome poor or wealthy innocent?\nWas R\u00e1ma, faithless to his vows,\nEnamoured of anothers spouse?\nWhy was he sent to Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s wild,\nLike one who kills an unborn child?\u201d\n\n  He questioned thus: and she began\nTo tell her deeds and crafty plan.\nDeceitful-hearted, fond, and blind\nAs is the way of womankind:\n\u201cNo Br\u00e1hman\u2019s wealth has R\u00e1ma seized,\nNo dame his wandering fancy pleased;\nHis very eyes he ne\u2019er allows\nTo gaze upon a neighbour\u2019s spouse.\nBut when I heard the monarch planned\nTo give the realm to R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand,\nI prayed that R\u00e1ma hence might flee,\nAnd claimed the throne, my son, for thee.\nThe king maintained the name he bare,\nAnd did according to my prayer,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, with his brother, sent,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1, forth to banishment.\nWhen his dear son was seen no more,\nThe lord of earth was troubled sore:\nToo feeble with his grief to strive,\nHe joined the elemental Five.\nUp then, most dutiful! maintain\nThe royal state, arise, and reign.\nFor thee, my darling son, for thee\nAll this was planned and wrought by me.\nCome, cast thy grief and pain aside,\nWith manly courage fortified.\nThis town and realm are all thine own,\nAnd fear and grief are here unknown.\nCome, with Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s guiding aid,\n  And priests in ritual skilled\nLet the king\u2019s funeral dues be paid,\n  And every claim fulfilled.\nPerform his obsequies with all\n  That suits his rank and worth,\nThen give the mandate to install\n  Thyself as lord of earth.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIII. Kaikey\u00ed Reproached.\n\n\nBut when he heard the queen relate\nHis brothers\u2019 doom, his father\u2019s fate,\nThus Bharat to his mother said\nWith burning grief disquieted:\n\u201cAlas, what boots it now to reign,\nStruck down by grief and well-nigh slain?\nAh, both are gone, my sire, and he\nWho was a second sire to me.\nGrief upon grief thy hand has made,\nAnd salt upon gashes laid:\nFor my dear sire has died through thee,\nAnd R\u00e1ma roams a devotee.\nThou camest like the night of Fate\nThis royal house to devastate.\nUnwitting ill, my hapless sire\nPlaced in his bosom coals of fire,\nAnd through thy crimes his death he met,\nO thou whose heart on sin is set.\nShame of thy house! thy senseless deed\nHas reft all joy from Raghu\u2019s seed.\nThe truthful monarch, dear to fame,\nReceived thee as his wedded dame,\nAnd by thy act to misery doomed\nHas died by flames of grief consumed.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 and Sumitr\u00e1 too\nThe coming of my mother rue,\nAnd if they live oppressed by woe,\nFor their dear sons their sad tears flow.\nWas he not ever good and kind,\u2014\nThat hero of the duteous mind?\nSkilled in all filial duties, he\nAs a dear mother treated thee.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 too, the eldest queen,\nWho far foresees with insight keen,\nDid she not ever show thee all\nA sister\u2019s love at duty\u2019s call?\nAnd hast thou from the kingdom chased\nHer son, with bark around his waist,\nTo the wild wood, to dwell therein,\nAnd dost not sorrow for thy sin?\nThe love I bare to Raghu\u2019s son\nThou knewest not, ambitious one,\nIf thou hast wrought this impious deed\nFor royal sway, in lawless greed.\nWith him and Lakshma\u1e47 far away,\nWhat power have I the realm to sway?\nWhat hope will fire my bosom when\nI see no more these lords of men?\nThe holy king, who loved the right\nRelied on R\u00e1ma\u2019s power and might,\nHis guardian and his glory, so\nJoys Meru in his woods below.\nHow can I bear, a steer untrained,\nThe load his mightier strength sustained?\nWhat power have I to brook alone\nThis weight on feeble shoulders thrown?\nBut if the needful power were bought\nBy strength of mind and brooding thought,\nNo triumph shall attend the dame\nWho dooms her son to lasting shame.\nNow should no doubt that son prevent\nFrom quitting thee on evil bent.\nBut R\u00e1ma\u2019s love o\u2019erpowers my will,\nWho holds thee as his mother still.\nWhence did the thought, O thou whose eyes\nAre turned to sinful deeds, arise\u2014\nA plan our ancient sires would hate,\nO fallen from thy virtuous state?\nFor in the line from which we spring\nThe eldest is anointed king:\nNo monarchs from the rule decline,\nAnd, least of all, Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line.\nOur holy sires, to virtue true,\nUpon our race a lustre threw,\nBut with subversive frenzy thou\nHast marred our lineal honour now,\nOf lofty birth, a noble line\nOf previous kings is also thine:\nThen whence this hated folly? whence\nThis sudden change that steals thy sense?\nThou shalt not gain thine impious will,\nO thou whose thoughts are bent on ill,\nThou from whose guilty hand descend\nThese sinful blows my life to end.\nNow to the forest will I go,\nThy cherished plans to overthrow,\nAnd bring my brother, free from stain,\nHis people\u2019s darling, home again.\nAnd R\u00e1ma, when again he turns,\nWhose glory like a beacon burns,\nIn me a faithful slave shall find\nTo serve him with contented mind.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIV. Bharat\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nWhen Bharat\u2019s anger-sharpened tongue\nReproaches on the queen had flung,\nAgain, with mighty rage possessed,\nThe guilty dame he thus addressed:\n\u201cFlee, cruel, wicked sinner, flee,\nLet not this kingdom harbour thee.\nThou who hast thrown all right aside,\nWeep thou for me when I have died.\nCanst thou one charge against the king,\nOr the most duteous R\u00e1ma bring?\nThe one thy sin to death has sent,\nThe other chased to banishment.\nOur line\u2019s destroyer, sin defiled\nLike one who kills an unborn child,\nNe\u2019er with thy lord in heaven to dwell,\nThy portion shall be down in hell\nBecause thy hand, that stayed for naught,\nThis awful wickedness has wrought,\nAnd ruined him whom all held dear,\nMy bosom too is stirred with fear.\nMy father by thy sin is dead,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to the wood is fled;\nAnd of thy deed I bear the stain,\nAnd fameless in the world remain.\nAmbitious, evil-souled, in show\nMy mother, yet my direst foe.\nMy throning ne\u2019er thine eyes shall bless,\nThy husband\u2019s wicked murderess.\nThou art not A\u015bvapati\u2019s child,\nThat righteous king most sage and mild,\nBut thou wast born a fiend, a foe\nMy father\u2019s house to overthrow.\nThou who hast made Kau\u015baly\u00e1, pure,\nGentle, affectionate, endure\nThe loss of him who was her bliss,\u2014\nWhat worlds await thee, Queen, for this?\nWas it not patent to thy sense\nThat R\u00e1ma was his friends\u2019 defence,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s own true child most dear,\nThe eldest and his father\u2019s peer?\nMen in the son not only trace\nThe father\u2019s figure, form, and face,\nBut in his heart they also find\nThe offspring of the father\u2019s mind;\nAnd hence, though dear their kinsmen are,\nTo mothers sons are dearer far.\nThere goes an ancient legend how\nGood Surabh\u00ed, the God-loved cow,\nSaw two of her dear children strain,\nDrawing a plough and faint with pain.\nShe saw them on the earth outworn,\nToiling till noon from early morn,\nAnd as she viewed her children\u2019s woe,\nA flood of tears began to flow.\nAs through the air beneath her swept\nThe Lord of Gods, the drops she wept,\nFine, laden with delicious smell,\nUpon his heavenly body fell.\nAnd Indra lifted up his eyes\nAnd saw her standing in the skies,\nAfflicted with her sorrow\u2019s weight,\nSad, weeping, all disconsolate.\nThe Lord of Gods in anxious mood\nThus spoke in suppliant attitude:\n\u201cNo fear disturbs our rest, and how\nCome this great dread upon thee now?\nWhence can this woe upon thee fall,\nSay, gentle one who lovest all?\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the God who rules the skies,\nIndra, the Lord supremely wise;\nAnd gentle Surabh\u00ed, well learned\nIn eloquence, this speech returned:\n\u201cNot thine the fault, great God, not thine\nAnd guiltless are the Lords divine:\nI mourn two children faint with toil,\nLabouring hard in stubborn soil.\nWasted and sad I see them now,\nWhile the sun beats on neck and brow,\nStill goaded by the cruel hind,\u2014\nNo pity in his savage mind.\nO Indra, from this body sprang\nThese children, worn with many a pang.\nFor this sad sight I mourn, for none\nIs to the mother like her son.\u201d\n\n  He saw her weep whose offspring feed\nIn thousands over hill and mead,\nAnd knew that in a mother\u2019s eye\nNaught with a son, for love, can vie.\nHe deemed her, when the tears that came\nFrom her sad eyes bedewed his frame,\nLaden with their celestial scent,\nOf living things most excellent.\nIf she these tears of sorrow shed\nWho many a thousand children bred,\nThink what a life of woe is left\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, of her R\u00e1ma reft.\nAn only son was hers and she\nIs rendered childless now by thee.\nHere and hereafter, for thy crime,\nWoe is thy lot through endless time.\nAnd now, O Queen, without delay,\nWith all due honour will I pay\nBoth to my brother and my sire\nThe rites their several fates require.\nBack to Ayodhy\u00e1 will I bring\nThe long-armed chief, her lord and king,\nAnd to the wood myself betake\nWhere hermit saints their dwelling make.\nFor, sinner both in deed and thought!\nThis hideous crime which thou hast wrought\nI cannot bear, or live to see\nThe people\u2019s sad eyes bent on me.\nBegone, to Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood retire,\nOr cast thy body to the fire,\nOr bind around thy neck the rope:\nNo other refuge mayst thou hope.\nWhen R\u00e1ma, lord of valour true,\nHas gained the earth, his right and due,\nThen, free from duty\u2019s binding debt,\nMy vanished sin shall I forget.\u201d\n\n  Thus like an elephant forced to brook\nThe goading of the driver\u2019s hook,\nQuick panting like a serpent maimed,\nHe fell to earth with rage inflamed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXV. The Abjuration.\n\n\nA while he lay: he rose at length,\nAnd slowly gathering sense and strength,\nWith angry eyes which tears bedewed,\nThe miserable queen he viewed,\nAnd spake with keen reproach to her\nBefore each lord and minister:\n\u201cNo lust have I for kingly sway,\nMy mother I no more obey:\nNaught of this consecration knew\nWhich Da\u015baratha kept in view.\nI with \u015aatrughna all the time\nWas dwelling in a distant clime:\nI knew of R\u00e1ma\u2019s exile naught,\nThat hero of the noble thought:\nI knew not how fair S\u00edt\u00e1 went,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, forth to banishment.\u201d\n\n  Thus high-souled Bharat, mid the crowd,\nLifted his voice and cried aloud.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 heard, she raised her head,\nAnd quickly to Sumitr\u00e1 said:\n\u201cBharat, Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s son is here,\u2014\nHers whose fell deeds I loathe and fear:\nThat youth of foresight keen I fain\nWould meet and see his face again.\u201d\nThus to Sumitr\u00e1 spake the dame,\nAnd straight to Bharat\u2019s presence came\nWith altered mien, neglected dress,\nTrembling and faint with sore distress.\nBharat, \u015aatrughna by his side,\nTo meet her, toward her palace hied.\nAnd when the royal dame they viewed\nDistressed with dire solicitude,\nSad, fallen senseless on the ground,\nAbout her neck their arms they wound.\nThe noble matron prostrate there,\nEmbraced, with tears, the weeping pair,\nAnd with her load of grief oppressed,\nTo Bharat then these words addressed:\n\u201cNow all is thine, without a foe,\nThis realm for which thou longest so.\nAh, soon Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s ruthless hand\nHas won the empire of the land,\nAnd made my guiltless R\u00e1ma flee\nDressed like some lonely devotee.\nHerein what profit has the queen,\nWhose eye delights in havoc, seen?\nMe also, me \u2019twere surely good\nTo banish to the distant wood,\nTo dwell amid the shades that hold\nMy famous son with limbs like gold.\nNay, with the sacred fire to guide,\nWill I, Sumitr\u00e1 by my side,\nMyself to the drear wood repair\nAnd seek the son of Raghu there.\nThis land which rice and golden corn\nAnd wealth of every kind adorn,\nCar, elephant, and steed, and gem,\u2014\nShe makes thee lord of it and them.\u201d\n\n  With taunts like these her bitter tongue\nThe heart of blameless Bharat wrung\nAnd direr pangs his bosom tore\nThan when the lancet probes a sore.\nWith troubled senses all astray\nProne at her feet he fell and lay.\nWith loud lament a while he plained,\nAnd slowly strength and sense regained.\nWith suppliant hand to hand applied\nHe turned to her who wept and sighed,\nAnd thus bespake the queen, whose breast\nWith sundry woes was sore distressed:\n\u201cWhy these reproaches, noble dame?\nI, knowing naught, am free from blame.\nThou knowest well what love was mine\nFor R\u00e1ma, chief of Raghu\u2019s line.\nO, never be his darkened mind\nTo Scripture\u2019s guiding lore inclined,\nBy whose consent the prince who led\nThe good, the truthful hero, fled.\nMay he obey the vilest lord,\nOffend the sun with act abhorred,(350)\nAnd strike a sleeping cow, who lent\nHis voice to R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment.\nMay the good king who all befriends,\nAnd, like his sons, the people tends,\nBe wronged by him who gave consent\nTo noble R\u00e1ma\u2019s banishment.\nOn him that king\u2019s injustice fall,\nWho takes, as lord, a sixth of all,\nNor guards, neglectful of his trust,\nHis people, as a ruler must.\nThe crime of those who swear to fee,\nAt holy rites, some devotee,\nAnd then the promised gift deny,\nBe his who willed the prince should fly.\nWhen weapons clash and heroes bleed,\nWith elephant and harnessed steed,\nNe\u2019er, like the good, be his to fight\nWhose heart allowed the prince\u2019s flight.\nThough taught with care by one expert\nMay he the Veda\u2019s text pervert,\nWith impious mind on evil bent,\nWhose voice approved the banishment.\nMay he with traitor lips reveal\nWhate\u2019er he promised to conceal,\nAnd bruit abroad his friend\u2019s offence,\nBetrayed by generous confidence.\nNo wife of equal lineage born\nThe wretch\u2019s joyless home adorn:\nNe\u2019er may he do one virtuous deed,\nAnd dying see no child succeed.\nWhen in the battle\u2019s awful day\nFierce warriors stand in dread array,\nLet the base coward turn and fly,\nAnd smitten by the foeman, die.\nLong may he wander, rags his wear,\nDoomed in his hand a skull to bear,\nAnd like an idiot beg his bread,\nWho gave consent when R\u00e1ma fled.\nHis sin who holy rites forgets,\nAsleep when shows the sun and sets,\nA load upon his soul shall lie\nWhose will allowed the prince to fly.\nHis sin who loves his Master\u2019s dame,\nHis, kindler of destructive flame,\nHis who betrays his trusting friend\nShall, mingled all, on him descend.\nBy him no reverence due be paid\nTo blessed God or parted shade:\nMay sire and mother\u2019s sacred name\nIn vain from him obedience claim.\nNe\u2019er may he go where dwell the good,\nNor win their fame and neighbourhood,\nBut lose all hopes of bliss to-day,\nWho willed the prince should flee away.\nMay he deceive the poor and weak\nWho look to him and comfort seek,\nBetray the suppliants who complain,\nAnd make the hopeful hope in vain.\nLong may his wife his kiss expect,\nAnd pine away in cold neglect.\nMay he his lawful love despise,\nAnd turn on other dames his eyes,\nFool, on forbidden joys intent,\nWhose will allowed the banishment.\nHis sin who deadly poison throws\nTo spoil the water as it flows,\nLay on the wretch its burden dread\nWho gave consent when R\u00e1ma fled.\u201d(351)\n\n  Thus with his words he undeceived\nKau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s troubled heart, who grieved\nFor son and husband reft away;\nThen prostrate on the ground he lay.\nHim as he lay half-senseless there,\nFreed by the mighty oaths he sware,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, by her woe distressed,\nWith melancholy words addressed:\n\u201cAnew, my son, this sorrow springs\nTo rend my heart with keener stings:\nThese awful oaths which thou hast sworn\nMy breast with double grief have torn.\nThy soul, and faithful Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s too,\nAre still, thank Heaven! to virtue true.\nTrue to thy promise, thou shalt gain\nThe mansions which the good obtain.\u201d\n\n  Then to her breast that youth she drew,\nWhose sweet fraternal love she knew,\nAnd there in strict embraces held\nThe hero, as her tears outwelled.\nAnd Bharat\u2019s heart grew sick and faint\nWith grief and oft-renewed complaint,\nAnd all his senses were distraught\nBy the great woe that in him wrought.\nThus he lay and still bewailed\n  With sighs and loud lament\nTill all his strength and reason failed,\n  The hours of night were spent.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXVI. The Funeral.\n\n\nThe saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, best of all\nWhose words with moving wisdom fall,\nBharat, Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s son, addressed,\nWhom burning fires of grief distressed:\n\u201cO Prince, whose fame is widely spread,\nEnough of grief: be comforted.\nThe time is come: arise, and lay\nUpon the pyre the monarch\u2019s clay.\u201d\n\n  He heard the words Va\u015bish\u1e6dha spoke,\nAnd slumbering resolution woke.\nThen skilled in all the laws declare,\nHe bade his friends the rites prepare.\nThey raised the body from the oil,\nAnd placed it, dripping, on the soil;\nThen laid it on a bed, whereon\nWrought gold and precious jewels shone.\nThere, pallor o\u2019er his features spread,\nThe monarch, as in sleep, lay dead.\nThen Bharat sought his father\u2019s side,\nAnd lifted up his voice and cried:\n\u201cO King, and has thy heart designed\nTo part and leave thy son behind?\nMake R\u00e1ma flee, who loves the right,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 of the arm of might?\nWhither, great Monarch, wilt thou go\nAnd leave this people in their woe,\nMourning their hero, wild with grief,\nOf R\u00e1ma reft, their lion chief?\nAh, who will guard the people well\nWho in Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s city dwell,\nWhen thou, my sire, hast sought the sky,\nAnd R\u00e1ma has been forced to fly?\nIn widowed woe, bereft of thee,\nThe land no more is fair to see:\nThe city, to my aching sight,\nIs gloomy as a moonless night.\u201d\n\n  Thus, with o\u2019erwhelming sorrow pained,\nSad Bharat by the bed complained:\nAnd thus Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, holy sage,\nSpoke his deep anguish to assuage:\n\u201cO Lord of men, no longer stay;\nThe last remaining duties pay:\nHaste, mighty-armed, as I advise,\nThe funeral rites to solemnize.\u201d\n\n  And Bharat heard Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s rede\nWith due attention and agreed.\nHe summoned straight from every side\nChaplain, and priest, and holy guide.\nThe sacred fires he bade them bring\nForth from the chapel of the king,\nWherein the priests in order due,\nAnd ministers, the offerings threw.\nDistraught in mind, with sob and tear,\nThey laid the body on a bier,\nAnd servants, while their eyes brimmed o\u2019er\nThe monarch from the palace bore.\nAnother band of mourners led\nThe long procession of the dead:\nRich garments in the way they cast,\nAnd gold and silver, as they passed.\nThen other hands the corse bedewed\nWith fragrant juices that exude\nFrom sandal, cedar, aloe, pine,\nAnd every perfume rare and fine.\nThen priestly hands the mighty dead\nUpon the pyre deposited.\nThe sacred fires they tended next,\nAnd muttered low each funeral text;\nAnd priestly singers who rehearse\nThe \u015aaman(352) sang their holy verse.\nForth from the town in litters came,\nOr chariots, many a royal dame,\nAnd honoured so the funeral ground,\nWith aged followers ringed around.\nWith steps in inverse order bent,(353)\nThe priests in sad procession went\nAround the monarch\u2019s burning pyre\nWho well had nursed each sacred fire:\nWith Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 and the rest,\nTheir tender hearts with woe distressed.\nThe voice of women, shrill and clear\nAs screaming curlews, smote the ear,\nAs from a thousand voices rose\nThe shriek that tells of woman\u2019s woes.\nThen weeping, faint, with loud lament,\nDown Sarj\u00fa\u2019s shelving bank they went.\n  There standing on the river side\n    With Bharat, priest, and peer,\n  Their lips the women purified\n    With water fresh and clear.\n  Returning to the royal town,\n    Their eyes with tear-drops filled,\n  Ten days on earth they laid them down,\n    And wept till grief was stilled.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXVII. The Gathering Of The Ashes.\n\n\nThe tenth day passed: the prince again\nWas free from every legal stain.\nHe bade them on the twelfth the great\nRemaining honour celebrate.\nMuch gold he gave, and gems, and food,\nTo all the Br\u00e1hman multitude,\nAnd goats whose hair was white and fine,\nAnd many a thousand head of kine:\nSlaves, men and damsels, he bestowed,\nAnd many a car and fair abode:\nSuch gifts he gave the Br\u00e1hman race\nHis father\u2019s obsequies to grace.\nThen when the morning\u2019s earliest ray\nAppeared upon the thirteenth day,\nAgain the hero wept and sighed\nDistraught and sorrow-stupefied;\nDrew, sobbing in his anguish, near,\nThe last remaining debt to clear,\nAnd at the bottom of the pyre,\nHe thus bespake his royal sire:\n\u201cO father, hast thou left me so,\nDeserted in my friendless woe,\nWhen he to whom the charge was given\nTo keep me, to the wood is driven?\nHer only son is forced away\nWho was his helpless mother\u2019s stay:\nAh, whither, father, art thou fled;\nLeaving the queen uncomforted?\u201d\n\n  He looked upon the pile where lay\nThe bones half-burnt and ashes grey,\nAnd uttering a piteous moan,\nGave way, by anguish overthrown.\nThen as his tears began to well,\nProstrate to earth the hero fell;\nSo from its seat the staff they drag,\nAnd cast to earth some glorious flag.\nThe ministers approached again\nThe prince whom rites had freed from stain;\nSo when Yay\u00e1ti fell, each seer,\nIn pity for his fate, drew near.\n\u015aatrughna saw him lying low\nO\u2019erwhelmed beneath the crush of woe,\nAnd as upon the king he thought,\nHe fell upon the earth distraught.\nWhen to his loving memory came\nThose noble gifts, that kingly frame,\nHe sorrowed, by his woe distressed,\nAs one by frenzied rage possessed:\n\u201cAh me, this surging sea of woe\nHas drowned us with its overflow:\nThe source is Manthar\u00e1, dire and dark,\nKaikey\u00ed is the ravening shark:\nAnd the great boons the monarch gave\nLend conquering might to every wave.\nAh, whither wilt thou go, and leave\nThy Bharat in his woe to grieve,\nWhom ever \u2019twas thy greatest joy\nTo fondle as a tender boy?\nDidst thou not give with thoughtful care\nOur food, our drink, our robes to wear?\nWhose love will now for us provide,\nWhen thou, our king and sire, hast died?\nAt such a time bereft, forlorn,\nWhy is not earth in sunder torn,\nMissing her monarch\u2019s firm control,\nHis love of right, his lofty soul?\nAh me, for R\u00e1ma roams afar,\nMy sire is where the Blessed are;\nHow can I live deserted? I\nWill pass into the fire and die.\nAbandoned thus, I will not brook\nUpon Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town to look,\nOnce guarded by Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race:\nThe wood shall be my dwelling place.\u201d\n\n  Then when the princes\u2019 mournful train\nHeard the sad brothers thus complain,\nAnd saw their misery, at the view\nTheir grief burst wilder out anew.\nFaint with lamenting, sad and worn,\nEach like a bull with broken horn,\nThe brothers in their wild despair\nLay rolling, mad with misery, there.\nThen old Va\u015bish\u1e6dha good and true,\nTheir father\u2019s priest, all lore who knew,\nRaised weeping Bharat on his feet,\nAnd thus bespake with counsel meet:\n\u201cTwelve days, my lord, have past away\nSince flames consumed thy father\u2019s clay:\nDelay no more: as rules ordain,\nGather what bones may yet remain.\nThree constant pairs are ever found\nTo hem all mortal creatures round:(354)\nThen mourn not thus, O Prince, for none\nTheir close companionship may shun.\u201d\n\n  Sumantra bade \u015aatrughna rise,\nAnd soothed his soul with counsel wise,\nAnd skilled in truth, his hearer taught\nHow all things are and come to naught.\nWhen rose each hero from the ground,\nA lion lord of men, renowned,\nHe showed like Indra\u2019s flag,(355) whereon\nFierce rains have dashed and suns have shone.\nThey wiped their red and weeping eyes,\nAnd gently made their sad replies:\nThen, urged to haste, the royal pair\nPerformed the rites that claimed their care.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXVIII. Manthar\u00e1 Punished.\n\n\n\u015aatrughna thus to Bharat spake\nWho longed the forest road to take:\n\u201cHe who in woe was wont to give\nStrength to himself and all that live\u2014\nDear R\u00e1ma, true and pure in heart,\nIs banished by a woman\u2019s art.\nYet here was Lakshma\u1e47, brave and strong,\nCould not his might prevent the wrong?\nCould not his arm the king restrain,\nOr make the banished free again?\nOne loving right and fearing crime\nHad checked the monarch\u2019s sin in time,\nWhen, vassal of a woman\u2019s will,\nHis feet approached the path of ill.\u201d\n\n  While Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s younger brother, dread\n\u015aatrughna, thus to Bharat said,\nCame to the fronting door, arrayed\nIn glittering robes, the hump-back maid.\nThere she, with sandal-oil besmeared,\nIn garments meet for queens appeared:\nAnd lustre to her form was lent\nBy many a gem and ornament.\nShe girdled with her broidered zone,\nAnd many a chain about her thrown,\nShowed like a female monkey round\nWhose body many a string is bound.\nWhen on that cause of evil fell\nThe quick eye of the sentinel,\nHe grasped her in his ruthless hold,\nAnd hastening in, \u015aatrughna told:\n\u201cHere is the wicked pest,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cThrough whom the king thy father died,\nAnd R\u00e1ma wanders in the wood:\nDo with her as thou deemest good.\u201d\nThe warder spoke: and every word\n\u015aatrughna\u2019s breast to fury stirred:\nHe called the servants, all and each.\nAnd spake in wrath his hasty speech:\n\u201cThis is the wretch my sire who slew,\nAnd misery on my brothers drew:\nLet her this day obtain the meed,\nVile sinner, of her cruel deed.\u201d\nHe spake; and moved by fury laid\nHis mighty hand upon the maid,\nWho as her fellows ringed her round,\nMade with her cries the hall resound.\nSoon as the gathered women viewed\n\u015aatrughna in his angry mood,\nTheir hearts disturbed by sudden dread,\nThey turned and from his presence fled.\n\u201cHis rage,\u201d they cried, \u201con us will fall,\nAnd ruthless, he will slay us all.\nCome, to Kau\u015baly\u00e1 let us flee:\nOur hope, our sure defence is she,\nApproved by all, of virtuous mind,\nCompassionate, and good, and kind.\u201d\n\n  His eyes with burning wrath aglow,\n\u015aatrughna, shatterer of the foe,\nDragged on the ground the hump-back maid\nWho shrieked aloud and screamed for aid.\nThis way and that with no remorse\nHe dragged her with resistless force,\nAnd chains and glittering trinkets burst\nLay here and there with gems dispersed,\nTill like the sky of Autumn shone\nThe palace floor they sparkled on.\nThe lord of men, supremely strong,\nHaled in his rage the wretch along:\nWhere Queen Kaikey\u00ed dwelt he came,\nAnd sternly then addressed the dame.\nDeep in her heart Kaikey\u00ed felt\nThe stabs his keen reproaches dealt,\nAnd of \u015aatrughna\u2019s ire afraid,\nTo Bharat flew and cried for aid.\nHe looked and saw the prince inflamed\nWith burning rage, and thus exclaimed:\n\u201cForgive! thine angry arm restrain:\nA woman never may be slain.\nMy hand Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s blood would spill,\nThe sinner ever bent on ill,\nBut R\u00e1ma, long in duty tried,\nWould hate the impious matricide:\nAnd if he knew thy vengeful blade\nHad slaughtered e\u2019en this hump-back maid,\nNever again, be sure, would he\nSpeak friendly word to thee or me.\u201d\n\n  When Bharat\u2019s speech \u015aatrughna heard\nHe calmed the rage his breast that stirred,\nReleasing from her dire constraint\nThe trembling wretch with terror faint.\nThen to Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s feet she crept,\nAnd prostrate in her misery wept.\nKaikey\u00ed on the hump-back gazed,\n  And saw her weep and gasp.\nStill quivering, with her senses dazed,\n  From fierce \u015aatrughna\u2019s grasp.\nWith gentle words of pity she\n  Assuaged her wild despair,\nE\u2019en as a tender hand might free\n  A curlew from the snare.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIX. Bharat\u2019s Commands.\n\n\nNow when the sun\u2019s returning ray\nHad ushered in the fourteenth day,\nThe gathered peers of state addressed\nTo Bharat\u2019s ear their new request:\n\u201cOur lord to heaven has parted hence,\nLong served with deepest reverence;\nR\u00e1ma, the eldest, far from home,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, in the forest roam.\nO Prince, of mighty fame, be thou\nOur guardian and our monarch now,\nLest secret plot or foeman\u2019s hate\nAssail our unprotected state.\nWith longing eyes, O Lord of men,\nTo thee look friend and citizen,\nAnd ready is each sacred thing\nTo consecrate our chosen king.\nCome, Bharat, and accept thine own\nAncient hereditary throne.\nThee let the priests this day install\nAs monarch to preserve us all.\u201d\n\n  Around the sacred gear he bent\nHis circling footsteps reverent,\nAnd, firm to vows he would not break,\nThus to the gathered people spake:\n\u201cThe eldest son is ever king:\nSo rules the house from which we spring:\nNor should ye, Lords, like men unwise,\nWith words like these to wrong advise.\nR\u00e1ma is eldest born, and he\nThe ruler of the land shall be.\nNow to the woods will I repair,\nFive years and nine to lodge me there.\nAssemble straight a mighty force,\nCars, elephants, and foot and horse,\nFor I will follow on his track\nAnd bring my eldest brother back.\nWhate\u2019er the rites of throning need\nPlaced on a car the way shall lead:\nThe sacred vessels I will take\nTo the wild wood for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake.\nI o\u2019er the lion prince\u2019s head\nThe sanctifying balm will shed,\nAnd bring him, as the fire they bring\nForth from the shrine, with triumphing.\nNor will I let my mother\u2019s greed\nIn this her cherished aim succeed:\nIn pathless wilds will I remain,\nAnd R\u00e1ma here as king shall reign.\nTo make the rough ways smooth and clear\nSend workman out and pioneer:\nLet skilful men attend beside\nOur way through pathless spots to guide.\u201d\nAs thus the royal Bharat spake,\nOrdaining all for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake,\nThe audience gave with one accord\nAuspicious answer to their lord:\n\u201cBe royal Fortune aye benign\nTo thee for this good speech of thine,\nWho wishest still thine elder\u2019s hand\nTo rule with kingly sway the land.\u201d\n  Their glorious speech, their favouring cries\n    Made his proud bosom swell:\n  And from the prince\u2019s noble eyes\n    The tears of rapture fell.(356)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXX. The Way Prepared.\n\n\nAll they who knew the joiner\u2019s art,\nOr distant ground in every part;\nEach busied in his several trade,\nTo work machines or ply the spade;\nDeft workmen skilled to frame the wheel,\nOr with the ponderous engine deal;\nGuides of the way, and craftsmen skilled,\nTo sink the well, make bricks, and build;\nAnd those whose hands the tree could hew,\nAnd work with slips of cut bamboo,\nWent forward, and to guide them, they\nWhose eyes before had seen the way.\nThen onward in triumphant mood\nWent all the mighty multitude.\nLike the great sea whose waves leap high\nWhen the full moon is in the sky.\nThen, in his proper duty skilled,\nEach joined him to his several guild,\nAnd onward in advance they went\nWith every tool and implement.\nWhere bush and tangled creeper lay\nWith trenchant steel they made the way;\nThey felled each stump, removed each stone,\nAnd many a tree was overthrown.\nIn other spots, on desert lands,\nTall trees were reared by busy hands.\nWhere\u2019er the line of road they took,\nThey plied the hatchet, axe, and hook.\nOthers, with all their strength applied,\nCast vigorous plants and shrubs aside,\nIn shelving valleys rooted deep,\nAnd levelled every dale and steep.\nEach pit and hole that stopped the way\nThey filled with stones, and mud, and clay,\nAnd all the ground that rose and fell\nWith busy care was levelled well.\nThey bridged ravines with ceaseless toil,\nAnd pounded fine the flinty soil.\nNow here, now there, to right and left,\nA passage through the ground they cleft,\nAnd soon the rushing flood was led\nAbundant through the new-cut bed,\nWhich by the running stream supplied\nWith ocean\u2019s boundless waters vied.\nIn dry and thirsty spots they sank\nFull many a well and ample tank,\nAnd altars round about them placed\nTo deck the station in the waste.\nWith well-wrought plaster smoothly spread,\nWith bloomy trees that rose o\u2019erhead,\nWith banners waving in the air,\nAnd wild birds singing here and there,\nWith fragrant sandal-water wet,\nWith many a flower beside it set,\nLike the Gods\u2019 heavenly pathway showed\nThat mighty host\u2019s imperial road.\nDeft workmen, chosen for their skill\nTo do the high-souled Bharat\u2019s will,\nIn every pleasant spot where grew\nTrees of sweet fruit and fair to view,\nAs he commanded, toiled to grace\nWith all delights his camping-place.\nAnd they who read the stars, and well\nEach lucky sign and hour could tell,\nRaised carefully the tented shade\nWherein high-minded Bharat stayed.\nWith ample space of level ground,\nWith broad deep moat encompassed round;\nLike Mandar in his towering pride,\nWith streets that ran from side to side;\nEnwreathed with many a palace tall\nSurrounded by its noble wall;\nWith roads by skilful workmen made,\nWhere many a glorious banner played;\nWith stately mansions, where the dove\nSat nestling in her cote above.\nRising aloft supremely fair\nLike heavenly cars that float in air,\nEach camp in beauty and in bliss\nMatched Indra\u2019s own metropolis.\n  As shines the heaven on some fair night,\n    With moon and constellations filled,\n  The prince\u2019s royal road was bright,\n    Adorned by art of workmen skilled.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXI. The Assembly.\n\n\nEre yet the dawn had ushered in\nThe day should see the march begin,\nHerald and bard who rightly knew\nEach nice degree of honour due,\nTheir loud auspicious voices raised,\nAnd royal Bharat blessed and praised.\nWith sticks of gold the drum they smote,\nWhich thundered out its deafening note,\nBlew loud the sounding shell, and blent\nEach high and low-toned instrument.\nThe mingled sound of drum and horn\nThrough all the air was quickly borne,\nAnd as in Bharat\u2019s ear it rang,\nGave the sad prince another pang.\n\n  Then Bharat, starting from repose,\nStilled the glad sounds that round him rose,\n\u201cI am not king; no more mistake:\u201d\nThen to \u015aatrughna thus he spake:\n\u201cO see what general wrongs succeed\nSprung from Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s evil deed!\nThe king my sire has died and thrown\nFresh miseries on me alone.\nThe royal bliss, on duty based,\nWhich our just high-souled father graced,\nWanders in doubt and sore distress\nLike a tossed vessel rudderless.\nAnd he who was our lordly stay\nRoams in the forest far away,\nExpelled by this my mother, who\nTo duty\u2019s law is most untrue.\u201d\n\n  As royal Bharat thus gave vent\nTo bitter grief in wild lament,\nGazing upon his face the crowd\nOf pitying women wept aloud.\nHis lamentation scarce was o\u2019er,\nWhen Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, skilled in lore\nOf royal duty, dear to fame,\nTo join the great assembly came.\nGirt by disciples ever true\nStill nearer to that hall he drew,\nResplendent, heavenly to behold,\nAdorned with wealth of gems and gold:\nE\u2019en so a man in duty tried\nDraws near to meet his virtuous bride.\nHe reached his golden seat o\u2019erlaid\nWith coverlet of rich brocade,\nThere sat, in all the Vedas read,\nAnd called the messengers, and said:\n\u201cGo forth, let Br\u00e1hman, Warrior, peer,\nAnd every captain gather here:\nLet all attentive hither throng:\nGo, hasten: we delay too long.\n\u015aatrughna, glorious Bharat bring,\nThe noble children of the king,(357)\nYudh\u00e1jit(358) and Sumantra, all\nThe truthful and the virtuous call.\u201d\n\n  He ended: soon a mighty sound\nOf thickening tumult rose around,\nAs to the hall they bent their course\nWith car, and elephant, and horse,\nThe people all with glad acclaim\nWelcomed Prince Bharat as he came:\nE\u2019en as they loved their king to greet,\nOr as the Gods Lord Indra(359) meet.\n  The vast assembly shone as fair\n    With Bharat\u2019s kingly face\n  As Da\u015baratha\u2019s self were there\n    To glorify the place.\n  It gleamed like some unruffled lake\n    Where monsters huge of mould\n  With many a snake their pastime take\n    O\u2019er shells, sand, gems, and gold.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXII. The Departure.\n\n\nThe prudent prince the assembly viewed\nThronged with its noble multitude,\nResplendent as a cloudless night\nWhen the full moon is in his height;\nWhile robes of every varied hue\nA glory o\u2019er the synod threw.\nThe priest in lore of duty skilled\nLooked on the crowd the hall that filled,\nAnd then in accents soft and grave\nTo Bharat thus his counsel gave:\n\u201cThe king, dear son, so good and wise,\nHas gone from earth and gained the skies,\nLeaving to thee, her rightful lord,\nThis rich wide land with foison stored.\nAnd still has faithful R\u00e1ma stood\nFirm to the duty of the good,\nAnd kept his father\u2019s hest aright,\nAs the moon keeps its own dear light.\nThus sire and brother yield to thee\nThis realm from all annoyance free:\nRejoice thy lords: enjoy thine own:\nAnointed king, ascend the throne.\nLet vassal Princes hasten forth\nFrom distant lands, west, south, and north,\nFrom Kerala,(360) from every sea,\nAnd bring ten million gems to thee.\u201d\nAs thus the sage Va\u015bish\u1e6dha spoke,\nA storm of grief o\u2019er Bharat broke.\nAnd longing to be just and true,\nHis thoughts to duteous R\u00e1ma flew.\nWith sobs and sighs and broken tones,\nE\u2019en as a wounded mallard moans,\nHe mourned with deepest sorrow moved,\nAnd thus the holy priest reproved:\n\u201cO, how can such as Bharat dare\nThe power and sway from him to tear,\nWise, and devout, and true, and chaste,\nWith Scripture lore and virtue graced?\nCan one of Da\u015baratha\u2019s seed\nBe guilty of so vile a deed?\nThe realm and I are R\u00e1ma\u2019s: thou,\nShouldst speak the words of justice now.\nFor he, to claims of virtue true,\nIs eldest born and noblest too:\nNahush, Dil\u00edpa could not be\nMore famous in their lives than he.\nAs Da\u015baratha ruled of right,\nSo R\u00e1ma\u2019s is the power and right.\nIf I should do this sinful deed\nAnd forfeit hope of heavenly meed,\nMy guilty act would dim the shine\nOf old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s glorious line.\nNay, as the sin my mother wrought\nIs grievous to my inmost thought,\nI here, my hands together laid,\nWill greet him in the pathless shade.\nTo R\u00e1ma shall my steps be bent,\nMy King, of men most excellent,\nRaghu\u2019s illustrious son, whose sway\nMight hell, and earth, and heaven obey.\u201d\n\n  That righteous speech, whose every word\nBore virtue\u2019s stamp, the audience heard;\nOn R\u00e1ma every thought was set,\nAnd with glad tears each eye was wet.\n\u201cThen, if the power I still should lack\nTo bring my noble brother back,\nI in the wood will dwell, and share\nHis banishment with Lakshma\u1e47 there.\nBy every art persuasive I\nTo bring him from the wood will try,\nAnd show him to your loving eyes,\nO Br\u00e1hmans noble, good, and wise.\nE\u2019en now, the road to make and clear,\nEach labourer pressed, and pioneer\nHave I sent forward to precede\nThe army I resolve to lead.\u201d\n\n  Thus, by fraternal love possessed,\nHis firm resolve the prince expressed,\nThen to Sumantra, deeply read\nIn holy texts, he turned and said:\n\u201cSumantra, rise without delay,\nAnd as I bid my words obey.\nGive orders for the march with speed,\nAnd all the army hither lead.\u201d\n\n  The wise Sumantra, thus addressed,\nObeyed the high-souled chief\u2019s behest.\nHe hurried forth with joy inspired\nAnd gave the orders he desired.\nDelight each soldier\u2019s bosom filled,\nAnd through each chief and captain thrilled,\nTo hear that march proclaimed, to bring\nDear R\u00e1ma back from wandering.\nFrom house to house the tidings flew:\nEach soldier\u2019s wife the order knew,\nAnd as she listened blithe and gay\nHer husband urged to speed away.\nCaptain and soldier soon declared\nThe host equipped and all prepared\nWith chariots matching thought for speed,\nAnd wagons drawn by ox and steed.\nWhen Bharat by Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s side,\nHis ready host of warriors eyed,\nThus in Sumantra\u2019s ear he spoke:\n\u201cMy car and horses quickly yoke.\u201d\nSumantra hastened to fulfil\nWith ready joy his master\u2019s will,\nAnd quickly with the chariot sped\nDrawn by fleet horses nobly bred.\nThen glorious Bharat, true, devout,\nWhose genuine valour none could doubt,\nGave in fit words his order out;\nFor he would seek the shade\nOf the great distant wood, and there\nWin his dear brother with his prayer:\n\u201cSumantra, haste! my will declare\n  The host be all arrayed.\nI to the wood my way will take,\n  To R\u00e1ma supplication make,\nAnd for the world\u2019s advantage sake,\n  Will lead him home again.\u201d\nThen, ordered thus, the charioteer\nWho listened with delighted ear,\nWent forth and gave his orders clear\n  To captains of the train.\nHe gave the popular chiefs the word,\nAnd with the news his friends he stirred,\nAnd not a single man deferred\n  Preparing for the road.\nThen Br\u00e1hman, Warrior, Merchant, thrall,\nObedient to Sumantra\u2019s call,\nEach in his house arose, and all\nYoked elephant or camel tall,\nOr ass or noble steed in stall,\n  And full appointed showed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXIII. The Journey Begun.\n\n\nThen Bharat rose at early morn,\nAnd in his noble chariot borne\nDrove forward at a rapid pace\nEager to look on R\u00e1ma\u2019s face.\nThe priests and lords, a fair array,\nIn sun-bright chariots led the way.\nBehind, a well appointed throng,\nNine thousand elephants streamed along.\nThen sixty thousand cars, and then,\nWith various arms, came fighting men.\nA hundred thousand archers showed\nIn lengthened line the steeds they rode\u2014\nA mighty host, the march to grace\nOf Bharat, pride of Raghu\u2019s race.\nKaikey\u00ed and Sumitr\u00e1 came,\nAnd good Kau\u015baly\u00e1, dear to fame:\nBy hopes of R\u00e1ma\u2019s coming cheered\nThey in a radiant car appeared.\nOn fared the noble host to see\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47, wild with glee,\nAnd still each other\u2019s ear to please,\nOf R\u00e1ma spoke in words like these:\n\u201cWhen shall our happy eyes behold\nOur hero true, and pure, and bold,\nSo lustrous dark, so strong of arm,\nWho keeps the world from woe and harm?\nThe tears that now our eyeballs dim\nWill vanish at the sight of him,\nAs the whole world\u2019s black shadows fly\nWhen the bright sun ascends the sky.\u201d\n\n  Conversing thus their way pursued\nThe city\u2019s joyous multitude,\nAnd each in mutual rapture pressed\nA friend or neighbour to his breast.\nThus every man of high renown,\nAnd every merchant of the town,\nAnd leading subjects, joyous went\nToward R\u00e1ma in his banishment.\nAnd those who worked the potter\u2019s wheel,\nAnd artists skilled in gems to deal;\nAnd masters of the weaver\u2019s art,\nAnd those who shaped the sword and dart;\nAnd they who golden trinkets made,\nAnd those who plied the fuller\u2019s trade;\nAnd servants trained the bath to heat,\nAnd they who dealt in incense sweet;\nPhysicians in their business skilled,\nAnd those who wine and mead distilled;\nAnd workmen deft in glass who wrought,\nAnd those whose snares the peacock caught;\nWith them who bored the ear for rings,\nOr sawed, or fashioned ivory things;\nAnd those who knew to mix cement,\nOr lived by sale of precious scent;\nAnd men who washed, and men who sewed,\nAnd thralls who mid the herds abode;\nAnd fishers of the flood, and they\nWho played and sang, and women gay;\nAnd virtuous Br\u00e1hmans, Scripture-wise,\nOf life approved in all men\u2019s eyes;\nThese swelled the prince\u2019s lengthened train,\nBorne each in car or bullock wain.\nFair were the robes they wore upon\nTheir limbs where red-hued unguents shone.\nThese all in various modes conveyed\nTheir journey after Bharat made;\nThe soldiers\u2019 hearts with rapture glowed,\nFollowing Bharat on his road,\nTheir chief whose tender love would fain\nBring his dear brother home again.\nWith elephant, and horse, and car,\nThe vast procession travelled far,\nAnd came where Gang\u00e1\u2019s waves below\nThe town of \u015aringavera(361) flow.\nThere, with his friends and kinsmen nigh,\nDwelt Guha, R\u00e1ma\u2019s dear ally,\nHeroic guardian of the land\nWith dauntless heart and ready hand.\nThere for a while the mighty force\nThat followed Bharat stayed its course,\nGazing on Gang\u00e1\u2019s bosom stirred\nBy many a graceful water-bird.\nWhen Bharat viewed his followers there,\nAnd Gang\u00e1\u2019s water, blest and fair,\nThe prince, who lore of words possessed,\nHis councillors and lords addressed:\n\u201cThe captains of the army call:\nProclaim this day a halt for all,\nThat so to-morrow, rested, we\nMay cross this flood that seeks the sea.\nMeanwhile, descending to the shore,\nThe funeral stream I fain would pour\nFrom Gang\u00e1\u2019s fair auspicious tide\nTo him, my father glorified.\u201d\n\n  Thus Bharat spoke: each peer and lord\nApproved his words with one accord,\nAnd bade the weary troops repose\nIn separate spots where\u2019er they chose.\nThere by the mighty stream that day,\nMost glorious in its vast array\nThe prince\u2019s wearied army lay\n  In various groups reclined.\nThere Bharat\u2019s hours of night were spent,\nWhile every eager thought he bent\nOn bringing home from banishment\n  His brother, great of mind.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXIV. Guha\u2019s Anger.\n\n\nKing Guha saw the host spread o\u2019er\nThe wide expanse of Gang\u00e1\u2019s shore,\nWith waving flag and pennon graced,\nAnd to his followers spoke in haste:\n\u201cA mighty army meets my eyes,\nThat rivals Ocean\u2019s self in size:\nWhere\u2019er I look my very mind\nNo limit to the host can find.\nSure Bharat with some evil thought\nHis army to our land has brought.\nSee, huge of form, his flag he rears,\nThat like an Ebony-tree appears.\nHe comes with bonds to take and chain,\nOr triumph o\u2019er our people slain:\nAnd after, R\u00e1ma will he slay,\u2014\nHim whom his father drove away:\nThe power complete he longs to gain,\nAnd\u2014task too hard\u2014usurp the reign.\nSo Bharat comes with wicked will\nHis brother R\u00e1ma\u2019s blood to spill.\nBut R\u00e1ma\u2019s slave and friend am I;\nHe is my lord and dear ally.\nKeep here your watch in arms arrayed\nNear Gang\u00e1\u2019s flood to lend him aid,\nAnd let my gathered servants stand\nAnd line with troops the river strand.\nHere let the river keepers meet,\nWho flesh and roots and berries eat;\nA hundred fishers man each boat\nOf the five hundred here afloat,\nAnd let the youthful and the strong\nAssemble in defensive throng.\nBut yet, if, free from guilty thought\n\u2019Gainst R\u00e1ma, he this land have sought,\nThe prince\u2019s happy host to-day\nAcross the flood shall make its way.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: then bearing in a dish\nA gift of honey, meat, and fish,\nThe king of the Nish\u00e1das drew\nToward Bharat for an interview.\nWhen Bharat\u2019s noble charioteer\nObserved the monarch hastening near,\nHe duly, skilled in courteous lore,\nThe tidings to his master bore:\n\u201cThis aged prince who hither bends\nHis footsteps with a thousand friends,\nKnows, firm ally of R\u00e1ma, all\nThat may in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood befall:\nTherefore, Kakutstha\u2019s son, admit\nThe monarch, as is right and fit:\nFor doubtless he can clearly tell\nWhere R\u00e1ma now and Lakshma\u1e47 dwell.\u201d\n\n  When Bharat heard Sumantra\u2019s rede,\nTo his fair words the prince agreed:\n\u201cGo quickly forth,\u201d he cried, \u201cand bring\nBefore my face the aged king.\u201d\nKing Guha, with his kinsmen near,\nRejoiced the summoning to hear:\nHe nearer drew, bowed low his head,\nAnd thus to royal Bharat said:\n\u201cNo mansions can our country boast,\nAnd unexpected comes thy host:\nBut what we have I give thee all:\nRest in the lodging of thy thrall.\nSee, the Nish\u00e1das here have brought\nThe fruit and roots their hands have sought:\nAnd we have woodland fare beside,\nAnd store of meat both fresh and dried.\nTo rest their weary limbs, I pray\nThis night at least thy host may stay:\nThen cheered with all we can bestow\nTo-morrow thou with it mayst go.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXV. Guha And Bharat.\n\n\nThus the Nish\u00e1das\u2019 king besought:\nThe prince with spirit wisdom-fraught\nReplied in seemly words that blent\nDeep matter with the argument:\n\u201cThou, friend of him whom I revere,\nWith honours high hast met me here,\nFor thou alone wouldst entertain\nAnd feed to-day so vast a train.\u201d\nIn such fair words the prince replied,\nThen, pointing to the path he cried:\n\u201cWhich way aright will lead my feet\nTo Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s calm retreat;\nFor all this land near Gang\u00e1\u2019s streams\nPathless and hard to traverse seems?\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the prince: King Guha heard\nDelighted every prudent word,\nAnd gazing on that forest wide,\nRaised suppliant hands, and thus replied:\n\u201cMy servants, all the ground who know,\nO glorious Prince, with thee shall go\nWith constant care thy way to guide,\nAnd I will journey by thy side.\nBut this thy host so wide dispread\nWakes in my heart one doubt and dread,\nLest, threatening R\u00e1ma good and great,\nIll thoughts thy journey stimulate.\u201d\n\n  But when King Guha, ill at ease,\nDeclared his fear in words like these,\nAs pure as is the cloudless sky\nWith soft voice Bharat made reply:\n\u201cSuspect me not: ne\u2019er come the time\nFor me to plot so foul a crime!\nHe is my eldest brother, he\nIs like a father dear to me.\nI go to lead my brother thence\nWho makes the wood his residence.\nNo thought but this thy heart should frame:\nThis simple truth my lips proclaim.\u201d\n\n  Then with glad cheer King Guha cried,\nWith Bharat\u2019s answer gratified:\n\u201cBlessed art thou: on earth I see\nNone who may vie, O Prince, with thee,\nWho canst of thy free will resign\nThe kingdom which unsought is thine.\nFor this, a name that ne\u2019er shall die,\nThy glory through the worlds shall fly,\nWho fain wouldst balm thy brother\u2019s pain\nAnd lead the exile home again.\u201d\n\n  As Guha thus, and Bharat, each\nTo other spoke in friendly speech,\nThe Day-God sank with glory dead,\nAnd night o\u2019er all the sky was spread.\nSoon as King Guha\u2019s thoughtful care\nHad quartered all the army there,\nWell honoured, Bharat laid his head\nBeside \u015aatrughna on a bed.\nBut grief for R\u00e1ma yet oppressed\nHigh-minded Bharat\u2019s faithful breast\u2014\nSuch torment little was deserved\nBy him who ne\u2019er from duty swerved.\nThe fever raged through every vein\nAnd burnt him with its inward pain:\nSo when in woods the flames leap free\nThe fire within consumes the tree.\nFrom heat of burning anguish sprung\nThe sweat upon his body hung,\nAs when the sun with fervid glow\nOn high Him\u00e1laya melts the snow.\nAs, banished from the herd, a bull\nWanders alone and sorrowful.\n  Thus sighing and distressed,\nIn misery and bitter grief,\nWith fevered heart that mocked relief,\nDistracted in his mind, the chief\n  Still mourned and found no rest.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXVI. Guha\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nGuha the king, acquainted well\nWith all that in the wood befell,\nTo Bharat the unequalled told\nThe tale of Lakshma\u1e47 mighty-souled:\n\u201cWith many an earnest word I spake\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 as he stayed awake,\nAnd with his bow and shaft in hand\nTo guard his brother kept his stand:\n\u201cNow sleep a little, Lakshma\u1e47, see\nThis pleasant bed is strewn for thee:\nHereon thy weary body lay,\nAnd strengthen thee with rest, I pray,\nInured to toil are men like these,\nBut thou hast aye been nursed in ease.\nRest, duteous-minded! I will keep\nMy watch while R\u00e1ma lies asleep:\nFor in the whole wide world is none\nDearer to me than Raghu\u2019s son.\nHarbour no doubt or jealous fear:\nI speak the truth with heart sincere:\nFor from the grace which he has shown\nWill glory on my name be thrown:\nGreat store of merit shall I gain,\nAnd duteous, form no wish in vain.\nLet me enforced by many a row\nOf followers, armed with shaft and bow\nFor well-loved R\u00e1ma\u2019s weal provide\nWho lies asleep by S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s side.\nFor through this wood I often go,\nAnd all its shades conceal I know:\nAnd we with conquering arms can meet\nA four-fold host arrayed complete.\u201d\n\u201cWith words like these I spoke, designed\nTo move the high-souled Bharat\u2019s mind,\nBut he upon his duty bent,\nPlied his persuasive argument:\n\u201cO, how can slumber close mine eyes\nWhen lowly couched with S\u00edt\u00e1 lies\nThe royal R\u00e1ma? can I give\nMy heart to joy, or even live?\nHe whom no mighty demon, no,\nNor heavenly God can overthrow,\nSee, Guha, how he lies, alas,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 couched on gathered grass.\nBy varied labours, long, severe,\nBy many a prayer and rite austere,\nHe, Da\u015baratha\u2019s cherished son,\nBy Fortune stamped, from Heaven was won.\nNow as his son is forced to fly,\nThe king ere long will surely die:\nReft of his guardian hand, forlorn\nIn widowed grief this land will mourn.\nE\u2019en now perhaps, with toil o\u2019erspent,\nThe women cease their loud lament,\nAnd cries of woe no longer ring\nThroughout the palace of the king.\nBut ah for sad Kau\u015baly\u00e1! how\nFare she and mine own mother now?\nHow fares the king? this night, I think,\nSome of the three in death will sink.\nWith hopes upon \u015aatrughna set\nMy mother may survive as yet,\nBut the sad queen will die who bore\nThe hero, for her grief is sore.\nHis cherished wish that would have made\nDear R\u00e1ma king, so long delayed,\n\u201cToo late! too late!\u201d the king will cry,\nAnd conquered by his misery die.\nWhen Fate has brought the mournful day\nWhich sees my father pass away,\nHow happy in their lives are they\nAllowed his funeral rites to pay.\nOur exile o\u2019er, with him who ne\u2019er\nTurns from the oath his lips may swear,\nMay we returning safe and well\ngain in fair Ayodhy\u00e1 dwell.\u201d\nThus Bharat stood with many a sigh\nLamenting, and the night went by.\nSoon as the morning light shone fair\nIn votive coils both bound their hair.\nAnd then I sent them safely o\u2019er\nAnd left them on the farther shore.\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 then they onward passed,\nTheir coats of bark about them cast,\n  Their locks like hermits\u2019 bound,\nThe mighty tamers of the foe,\nEach with his arrows and his bow,\n  Went over the rugged ground,\nProud in their strength and undeterred\nLike elephants that lead the herd,\n  And gazing oft around.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXVII. Guha\u2019s Story.\n\n\nThat speech of Guha Bharat heard\nWith grief and tender pity stirred,\nAnd as his ears the story drank,\nDeep in his thoughtful heart it sank.\nHis large full eyes in anguish rolled,\nHis trembling limbs grew stiff and cold;\nThen fell he, like a tree uptorn,\nIn woe too grievous to be borne.\nWhen Guha saw the long-armed chief\nWhose eye was like a lotus leaf,\nWith lion shoulders strong and fair,\nHigh-mettled, prostrate in despair,\u2014\nPale, bitterly afflicted, he\nReeled as in earthquake reels a tree.\nBut when \u015aatrughna standing nigh\nSaw his dear brother helpless lie,\nDistraught with woe his head he bowed,\nEmbraced him oft and wept aloud.\nThen Bharat\u2019s mothers came, forlorn\nOf their dear king, with fasting worn,\nAnd stood with weeping eyes around\nThe hero prostrate on the ground.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, by her woe oppressed,\nThe senseless Bharat\u2019s limbs caressed,\nAs a fond cow in love and fear\nCaresses oft her youngling dear:\nThen yielding to her woe she said,\nWeeping and sore disquieted:\n\u201cWhat torments, O my son, are these\nOf sudden pain or swift disease?\nThe lives of us and all the line\nDepend, dear child, on only thine.\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 forced to flee,\nI live by naught but seeing thee:\nFor as the king has past away\nThou art my only help to-day.\nHast thou, perchance, heard evil news\nOf Lakshma\u1e47, which thy soul subdues,\nOr R\u00e1ma dwelling with his spouse\u2014\nMy all is he\u2014neath forest boughs?\u201d\n\n  Then slowly gathering sense and strength\nThe weeping hero rose at length,\nAnd words like these to Guha spake,\nThat bade Kau\u015baly\u00e1 comfort take:\n\u201cWhere lodged the prince that night? and where\nLakshma\u1e47 the brave, and S\u00edt\u00e1 fair?\nShow me the couch whereon he lay,\nTell me the food he ate, I pray.\u201d\n\n  Then Guha the Nish\u00e1das\u2019 king\nReplied to Bharat\u2019s questioning:\n\u201cOf all I had I brought the best\nTo serve my good and honoured guest\nFood of each varied kind I chose,\nAnd every fairest fruit that grows.\nR\u00e1ma the hero truly brave\nDeclined the gift I humbly gave:\nHis Warrior part he ne\u2019er forgot,\nAnd what I brought accepted not:\n\u201cNo gifts, my friend, may we accept:\nOur law is, Give, and must be kept.\u201d\nThe high-souled chief, O Monarch, thus\nWith gracious words persuaded us.\nThen calm and still, absorbed in thought,\nHe drank the water Lakshma\u1e47 brought,\nAnd then, obedient to his vows,\nHe fasted with his gentle spouse.\nSo Lakshma\u1e47 too from food abstained,\nAnd sipped the water that remained:\nThen with ruled lips, devoutly staid,\nThe three(362) their evening worship paid.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 with unwearied care\nBrought heaps of sacred grass, and there\nWith his own hands he quickly spread,\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s rest, a pleasant bed,\nAnd faithful S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s too, where they\nReclining each by other lay.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 bathed their feet, and drew\nA little distance from the two.\nHere stands the tree which lent them shade,\nHere is the grass beneath it laid,\nWhere R\u00e1ma and his consort spent\nThe night together ere they went.\nLakshma\u1e47, whose arms the foeman quell,\nWatched all the night as sentinel,\n  And kept his great bow strung:\nHis hand was gloved, his arm was braced,\nTwo well-filled quivers at his waist,\n  With deadly arrows, hung.\nI took my shafts and trusty bow,\nAnd with that tamer of the foe\n  Stood ever wakeful near,\nAnd with my followers, bow in hand,\nBehind me ranged, a ready band,\n  Kept watch o\u2019er Indra\u2019s peer.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXVIII. The Ingud\u00ed Tree.\n\n\nWhen Bharat with each friend and peer\nHad heard that tale so full and clear,\nThey went together to the tree\nThe bed which R\u00e1ma pressed to see.\nThen Bharat to his mothers said:\n\u201cBehold the high-souled hero\u2019s bed:\nThese tumbled heaps of grass betray\nWhere he that night with S\u00edt\u00e1 lay:\nUnmeet, the heir of fortune high\nThus on the cold bare earth should lie,\nThe monarch\u2019s son, in counsel sage,\nOf old imperial lineage.\nThat lion-lord whose noble bed\nWith finest skins of deer was spread,\u2014\nHow can he now endure to press\nThe bare earth, cold and comfortless!\nThis sudden fall from bliss to grief\nAppears untrue, beyond belief:\nMy senses are distraught: I seem\nTo view the fancies of a dream.\nThere is no deity so great,\nNo power in heaven can master Fate,\nIf R\u00e1ma, Da\u015baratha\u2019s heir,\nLay on the ground and slumbered there;\nAnd lovely S\u00edt\u00e1, she who springs\nFrom fair Videha\u2019s ancient kings,\nR\u00e1ma\u2019s dear wife, by all adored,\nLay on the earth beside her lord.\nHere was his couch, upon this heap\nHe tossed and turned in restless sleep:\nOn the hard soil each manly limb\nHas stamped the grass with signs of him.\nThat night, it seems, fair S\u00edt\u00e1 spent\nArrayed in every ornament,\nFor here and there my eyes behold\nSmall particles of glistering gold.\nShe laid her outer garment here,\nFor still some silken threads appear,\nHow dear in her devoted eyes\nMust be the bed where R\u00e1ma lies,\nWhere she so tender could repose\nAnd by his side forget her woes.\nAlas, unhappy, guilty me!\nFor whom the prince was forced to flee,\nAnd chief of Raghu\u2019s sons and best,\nA bed like this with S\u00edt\u00e1 pressed.\nSon of a royal sire whose hand\nRuled paramount o\u2019er every land,\nCould he who every joy bestows,\nWhose body like the lotus shows,\nThe friend of all, who charms the sight,\nWhose flashing eyes are darkly bright,\nLeave the dear kingdom, his by right,\nUnmeet for woe, the heir of bliss,\nAnd lie upon a bed like this?\nGreat joy and happy fate are thine,\nO Lakshma\u1e47, marked with each fair sign,\nWhose faithful footsteps follow still\nThy brother in his hour of ill.\nAnd blest is S\u00edt\u00e1, nobly good,\nWho dwells with R\u00e1ma in the wood.\nOurs is, alas, a doubtful fate\nOf R\u00e1ma reft and desolate.\nMy royal sire has gained the skies,\nIn woods the high-souled hero lies;\nThe state is wrecked and tempest-tossed,\nA vessel with her rudder lost.\nYet none in secret thought has planned\nWith hostile might to seize the land:\nThough forced in distant wilds to dwell,\nThe hero\u2019s arm protects it well.\nUnguarded, with deserted wall,\nNo elephant or steed in stall,\nMy father\u2019s royal city shows\nHer portals open to her foes,\nOf bold protectors reft and bare,\nDefenceless in her dark despair:\nBut still her foes the wish restrain,\nAs men from poisoned cates refrain.\nI from this hour my nights will pass\nCouched on the earth or gathered grass,\nEat only fruit and roots, and wear\nA coat of bark, and matted hair.\nI in the woods will pass, content,\nFor him the term of banishment;\nSo shall I still unbroken save\nThe promise which the hero gave.\nWhile I remain for R\u00e1ma there,\n\u015aatrughna will my exile share,\nAnd R\u00e1ma in his home again,\nWith Lakshma\u1e47, o\u2019er Ayodhy\u00e1 reign,\nfor him, to rule and guard the state,\nThe twice-born men shall consecrate.\nO, may the Gods I serve incline\nTo grant this earnest wish of mine!\nIf when I bow before his feet\nAnd with all moving arts entreat,\n  He still deny my prayer,\nThen with my brother will I live:\nHe must, he must permission give,\n  Roaming in forests there.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXXIX. The Passage Of Gang\u00e1.\n\n\nThat night the son of Raghu lay\nOn Gang\u00e1\u2019s bank till break of day:\nThen with the earliest light he woke\nAnd thus to brave \u015aatrughna spoke.\n\u201cRise up, \u015aatrughna, from thy bed:\nWhy sleepest thou the night is fled.\nSee how the sun who chases night\nWakes every lotus with his light.\nArise, arise, and first of all\nThe lord of \u015aringavera call,\nFor he his friendly aid will lend\nOur army o\u2019er the flood to send.\u201d\n\n  Thus urged, \u015aatrughna answered: \u201cI,\nRemembering R\u00e1ma, sleepless lie.\u201d\nAs thus the brothers, each to each,\nThe lion-mettled, ended speech,\nCame Guha, the Nish\u00e1das\u2019 king,\nAnd spoke with kindly questioning:\n\u201cHast thou in comfort passed,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cThe night upon the river side?\nWith thee how fares it? and are these,\nThy soldiers, healthy and at ease?\u201d\nThus the Nish\u00e1das\u2019 lord inquired\nIn gentle words which love inspired,\nAnd Bharat, R\u00e1ma\u2019s faithful slave,\nThus to the king his answer gave:\n\u201cThe night has sweetly passed, and we\nAre highly honoured, King, by thee.\nNow let thy servants boats prepare,\nOur army o\u2019er the stream to bear.\u201d\n\n  The speech of Bharat Guha heard,\nAnd swift to do his bidding stirred.\nWithin the town the monarch sped\nAnd to his ready kinsmen said:\n\u201cAwake, each kinsman, rise, each friend!\nMay every joy your lives attend.\nGather each boat upon the shore\nAnd ferry all the army o\u2019er.\u201d\nThus Guha spoke: nor they delayed,\nBut, rising quick, their lord obeyed,\nAnd soon, from every side secured,\nFive hundred boats were ready moored.\nSome reared aloft the mystic sign,(363)\nAnd mighty bells were hung in line:\nOf firmest build, gay flags they bore,\nAnd sailors for the helm and oar.\nOne such King Guha chose, whereon,\nOf fair white cloth, an awning shone,\nAnd sweet musicians charmed the ear,\u2014\nAnd bade his servants urge it near.\nThen Bharat swiftly sprang on board,\nAnd then \u015aatrughna, famous lord,\nTo whom, with many a royal dame,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 and Sumitr\u00e1 came.\nThe household priest went first in place,\nThe elders, and the Br\u00e1hman race,\nAnd after them the monarch\u2019s train\nOf women borne in many a wain.\nThen high to heaven the shouts of those\nWho fired the army\u2019s huts,(364) arose,\nWith theirs who bathed along the shore,\nOr to the boats the baggage bore.\nFull freighted with that mighty force\nThe boats sped swiftly on their course,\nBy royal Guha\u2019s servants manned,\nAnd gentle gales the banners fanned.\nSome boats a crowd of dames conveyed,\nIn others noble coursers neighed;\nSome chariots and their cattle bore,\nSome precious wealth and golden store.\nAcross the stream each boat was rowed,\nThere duly disembarked its load,\nAnd then returning on its way,\nSped here and there in merry play.\nThen swimming elephants appeared\nWith flying pennons high upreared.\nAnd as the drivers urged them o\u2019er,\nThe look of winged mountains wore.\nSome men in barges reached the strand,\nOthers on rafts came safe to land:\nSome buoyed with pitchers crossed the tide,\nAnd others on their arms relied.\nThus with the help the monarch gave\nThe army crossed pure Gang\u00e1\u2019s wave:\nThen in auspicious hour it stood\nWithin Pray\u00e1ga\u2019s famous wood.\nThe prince with cheering words addressed\nHis weary men, and bade them rest\n  Where\u2019er they chose and he,\nWith priest and deacon by his side,\nTo Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s dwelling hied\n  That best of saints to see.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XC. The Hermitage.\n\n\nThe prince of men a league away\nSaw where the hermit\u2019s dwelling lay,\nThen with his lords his path pursued,\nAnd left his warrior multitude.\nOn foot, as duty taught his mind,\nHe left his warlike gear behind;\nTwo robes of linen cloth he wore,\nAnd bade Va\u015bish\u1e6dha walk before.\nThen Bharat from his lords withdrew\nWhen Bharadv\u00e1ja came in view,\nAnd toward the holy hermit went\nBehind Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, reverent.\nWhen Bharadv\u00e1ja, saint austere,\nSaw good Va\u015bish\u1e6dha drawing near,\nHe cried, upspringing from his seat,\n\u201cThe grace-gift bring, my friend to greet.\u201d\nWhen Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha near him drew,\nAnd Bharat paid the reverence due,\nThe glorious hermit was aware\nThat Da\u015baratha\u2019s son was there.\nThe grace-gift, water for their feet\nHe gave, and offered fruit to eat;\nThen, duty-skilled, with friendly speech\nIn seemly order questioned each:\n\u201cHow fares it in Ayodhy\u00e1 now\nWith treasury and army? how\nWith kith and kin and friends most dear,\nWith councillor, and prince, and peer?\u201d\nBut, for he knew the king was dead,\nOf Da\u015baratha naught he said.\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha and the prince in turn\nWould of the hermit\u2019s welfare learn:\nOf holy fires they fain would hear,\nOf pupils, trees, and birds, and deer.\nThe glorious saint his answer made\nThat all was well in holy shade:\nThen love of R\u00e1ma moved his breast,\nAnd thus he questioned of his guest:\n\u201cWhy art thou here, O Prince, whose band\nWith kingly sway protects the land?\nDeclare the cause, explain the whole,\nFor yet some doubt disturbs my soul.\nHe whom Kau\u015baly\u00e1 bare, whose might\nThe foemen slays, his line\u2019s delight,\nHe who with wife and brother sent\nAfar now roam in banishment,\nFamed prince, to whom his father spake\nThis order for a woman\u2019s sake:\n\u201cAway! and in the forest spend\nThy life till fourteen years shall end\u201d\u2014\nHas thou the wish to harm him, bent\nOn sin against the innocent?\nWouldst thou thine elder\u2019s realm enjoy\nWithout a thorn that can annoy?\u201d\n\n  With sobbing voice and tearful eye\nThus Bharat sadly made reply:\n\u201cAh lost am I, if thou, O Saint,\nCanst thus in thought my heart attaint:\nNo warning charge from thee I need;\nNe\u2019er could such crime from me proceed.\nThe words my guilty mother spake\nWhen fondly jealous for my sake\u2014\nThink not that I, to triumph moved,\nThose words approve or e\u2019er approved.\nO Hermit, I have sought this place\nTo win the lordly hero\u2019s grace,\nTo throw me at my brother\u2019s feet\nAnd lead him to his royal seat.\nTo this, my journey\u2019s aim and end,\nThou shouldst, O Saint, thy favour lend:\nWhere is the lord of earth? do thou,\nMost holy, say, where roams he now?\u201d\n\n  Then, by the saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha pressed,\n    And all the gathered priests beside,\n  To Bharat\u2019s dutiful request\n    The hermit graciously replied:\n\u201cWorthy of thee, O Prince, this deed,\nTrue son of Raghu\u2019s ancient seed.\nI know thee reverent, well-controlled,\nThe glory of the good of old.\nI grant thy prayer: in this pursuit\nI know thy heart is resolute.\n\u2019Tis for thy sake those words I said\nThat wider still thy fame may spread.\nI know where R\u00e1ma, duty-tried,\nHis brother, and his wife abide.\nWhere Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s heights arise\nThy brother R\u00e1ma\u2019s dwelling lies.\nGo thither with the morning\u2019s light,\nAnd stay with all thy lords tonight:\nFor I would show thee honour high,\nAnd do not thou my wish deny.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCI. Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s Feast.\n\n\nSoon as he saw the prince\u2019s mind\nTo rest that day was well inclined,\nHe sought Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s son to please\nWith hospitable courtesies.\nThen Bharat to the saint replied:\n\u201cOur wants are more than satisfied.\nThe gifts which honoured strangers greet,\nAnd water for our weary feet\nHast thou bestowed with friendly care,\nAnd every choice of woodland fare.\u201d\n\n  Then Bharadv\u00e1ja spoke, a smile\nPlaying upon his lips the while:\n\u201cI know, dear Prince, thy friendly mind\nWill any fare sufficient find,\nBut gladly would I entertain\nAnd banquet all thine armed train:\nSuch is my earnest wish: do thou\nThis longing of my heart allow,\nWhy hast thou hither bent thy way,\nAnd made thy troops behind thee stay?\nWhy unattended? couldst thou not\nWith friends and army seek this spot?\u201d\n\n  Bharat, with reverent hands raised high,\nTo that great hermit made reply:\n\u201cMy troops, for awe of thee, O Sage,\nI brought not to thy hermitage:\nTroops of a king or monarch\u2019s son\nA hermit\u2019s home should ever shun.\nBehind me comes a mighty train\nWide spreading o\u2019er the ample plain,\nWhere every chief and captain leads\nMen, elephants, and mettled steeds.\nI feared, O reverend Sage, lest these\nMight harm the holy ground and trees,\nSprings might be marred and cots o\u2019erthrown,\nSo with the priests I came alone.\u201d\n\n  \u201cBring all thy host,\u201d the hermit cried,\nAnd Bharat, to his joy, complied.\nThen to the chapel went the sire,\nWhere ever burnt the sacred fire,\nAnd first, in order due, with sips\nOf water purified his lips:\nTo Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1, then he prayed,\nHis hospitable feast to aid:\n\u201cLet Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1 hear my call,\nThe God who forms and fashions all:\nA mighty banquet I provide,\nBe all my wants this day supplied.\nLord Indra at their head, the three(365)\nWho guard the worlds I call to me:\nA mighty host this day I feed,\nBe now supplied my every need.\nLet all the streams that eastward go,\nAnd those whose waters westering flow,\nBoth on the earth and in the sky,\nFlow hither and my wants supply.\nBe some with ardent liquor filled,\nAnd some with wine from flowers distilled,\nWhile some their fresh cool streams retain\nSweet as the juice of sugar-cane.\nI call the Gods, I call the band\nOf minstrels that around them stand:\nI call the H\u00e1h\u00e1 and Huh\u00fa,\nI call the sweet Vi\u015bv\u00e1vasu,\nI call the heavenly wives of these\nWith all the bright Apsarases,\nAlamb\u00fash\u00e1 of beauty rare,\nThe charmer of the tangled hair,\nGhrit\u00e1ch\u00ed and Vi\u015bv\u00e1chi fair,\nHem\u00e1 and Bh\u00edm\u00e1 sweet to view,\nAnd lovely N\u00e1gadant\u00e1 too,\nAnd all the sweetest nymphs who stand\nBy Indra or by Brahm\u00e1\u2019s hand\u2014\nI summon these with all their train\nAnd Tumburu to lead the strain.\nHere let Kuvera\u2019s garden rise\nWhich far in Northern Kuru(366) lies:\nFor leaves let cloth and gems entwine,\nAnd let its fruit be nymphs divine.\nLet Soma(367) give the noblest food\nTo feed the mighty multitude,\nOf every kind, for tooth and lip,\nTo chew, to lick, to suck, and sip.\nLet wreaths, where fairest flowers abound,\nSpring from the trees that bloom around.\nEach sort of wine to woo the taste,\nAnd meats of every kind be placed.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the hermit self-restrained,\nWith proper tone by rules ordained,\nOn deepest meditation bent,\nIn holy might pre\u00ebminent.\nThen as with hands in reverence raised\nAbsorbed in thought he eastward gazed,\nThe deities he thus addressed\nCame each in semblance manifest.\nDelicious gales that cooled the frame\nFrom Malaya and Dardar came,\nThat kissed those scented hills and threw\nAuspicious fragrance where they blew.\nThen falling fast in sweetest showers\nCame from the sky immortal flowers,\nAnd all the airy region round\nWith heavenly drums was made to sound.\nThen breathed a soft celestial breeze,\nThen danced the bright Apsarases,\nThe minstrels and the Gods advanced,\nAnd warbling lutes the soul entranced.\nThe earth and sky that music filled,\nAnd through each ear it softly thrilled,\nAs from the heavenly quills it fell\nWith time and tune attempered well.\nSoon as the minstrels ceased to play\nAnd airs celestial died away,\nThe troops of Bharat saw amazed\nWhat Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s art had raised.\nOn every side, five leagues around,\nAll smooth and level lay the ground,\nWith fresh green grass that charmed the sight\nLike sapphires blent with lazulite.\nThere the Wood-apple hung its load,\nThe Mango and the Citron glowed,\nThe Bel and scented Jak were there,\nAnd Apel\u00e1 with fruitage fair.\nThere, brought from Northern Kuru, stood\nRich in delights, the glorious wood,\nAnd many a stream was seen to glide\nWith flowering trees along its side.\nThere mansions rose with four wide halls,\nAnd elephants and chargers\u2019 stalls,\nAnd many a house of royal state,\nTriumphal arc and bannered gate.\nWith noble doorways, sought the sky,\nLike a pale cloud, a palace high,\nWhich far and wide rare fragrance shed,\nWith wreaths of white engarlanded.\nSquare was its shape, its halls were wide,\nWith many a seat and couch supplied,\nDrink of all kinds, and every meat\nSuch as celestial Gods might eat.\nThen at the bidding of the seer\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s strong-armed son drew near,\nAnd passed within that fair abode\nWhich with the noblest jewels glowed.\nThen, as Va\u015bish\u1e6dha led the way,\nThe councillors, in due array,\nFollowed delighted and amazed\nAnd on the glorious structure gazed.\nThen Bharat, Raghu\u2019s son, drew near\nThe kingly throne, with prince and peer,\nWhereby the chouri in the shade\nOf the white canopy was laid.\nBefore the throne he humbly bent\nAnd honoured R\u00e1ma, reverent,\nThen in his hand the chouri bore,\nAnd sat where sits a councillor.\nHis ministers and household priest\nSat by degrees from chief to least,\nThen sat the captain of the host\nAnd all the men he honoured most.\nThen when the saint his order gave,\nEach river with enchanted wave\nRolled milk and curds divinely sweet\nBefore the princely Bharat\u2019s feet;\nAnd dwellings fair on either side,\nWith gay white plaster beautified,\nTheir heavenly roofs were seen to lift,\nThe Br\u00e1hman Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s gift.\nThen straight by Lord Kuvera sent,\nGay with celestial ornament\nOf bright attire and jewels\u2019 shine,\nCame twenty thousand nymphs divine:\nThe man on whom those beauties glanced\nThat moment felt his soul entranced.\nWith them from Nandan\u2019s blissful shades\nCame twenty thousand heavenly maids.\nTumburu, N\u00e1rad, Gopa came,\nAnd Sutanu, like radiant flame,\nThe kings of the Gandharva throng,\nAnd ravished Bharat with their song.\nThen spoke the saint, and swift obeyed\nAlamb\u00fash\u00e1, the fairest maid,\nAnd Mi\u015brake\u015b\u00ed bright to view,\nRama\u1e47\u00e1, Pu\u1e47\u1e0dr\u00edk\u00e1 too,\nAnd danced to him with graceful ease\nThe dances of Apsarases.\nAll chaplets that by Gods are worn,\nOr Chaitraratha\u2019s graves adorn,\nBloomed by the saint\u2019s command arrayed\nOn branches in Pray\u00e1ga\u2019s shade.\nWhen at the saint\u2019s command the breeze\nMade music with the Vilva trees,\nTo wave in rhythmic beat began\nThe boughs of each Myrobolan,\nAnd holy fig-trees wore the look\nOf dancers, as their leaflets shook.\nThe fair Tam\u00e1la, palm, and pine,\nWith trees that tower and plants that twine,\nThe sweetly varying forms displayed\nOf stately dame or bending maid.\nHere men the foaming winecup quaffed,\nHere drank of milk full many a draught,\nAnd tasted meats of every kind,\nWell dressed, whatever pleased their mind.\nThen beauteous women, seven or eight,\nStood ready by each man to wait:\nBeside the stream his limbs they stripped\nAnd in the cooling water dipped.\nAnd then the fair ones, sparkling eyed,\nWith soft hands rubbed his limbs and dried,\nAnd sitting on the lovely bank\nHeld up the winecup as he drank.\nNor did the grooms forget to feed\nCamel and mule and ox and steed,\nFor there were stores of roasted grain,\nOf honey and of sugar-cane.\nSo fast the wild excitement spread\nAmong the warriors Bharat led,\nThat all the mighty army through\nThe groom no more his charger knew,\nAnd he who drove might seek in vain\nTo tell his elephant again.\nWith every joy and rapture fired,\nEntranced with all the heart desired,\nThe myriads of the host that night\nRevelled delirious with delight.\nUrged by the damsels at their side\nIn wild delight the warriors cried:\n\u201cNe\u2019er will we seek Ayodhy\u00e1, no,\nNor yet to Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest go:\nHere will we stay: may happy fate\nOn Bharat and on R\u00e1ma wait.\u201d\nThus cried the army gay and free\nExulting in their lawless glee,\nBoth infantry and those who rode\nOn elephants, or steeds bestrode,\nTen thousand voices shouting, \u201cThis\nIs heaven indeed for perfect bliss.\u201d\nWith garlands decked they idly strayed,\nAnd danced and laughed and sang and played.\nAt length as every soldier eyed,\nWith food like Amrit satisfied,\nEach dainty cate and tempting meat,\nNo longer had he care to eat.\nThus soldier, servant, dame, and slave\nReceived whate\u2019er the wish might crave.\nAs each in new-wrought clothes arrayed\nEnjoyed the feast before him laid.\nEach man was seen in white attire\nUnstained by spot or speck of mire:\nNone was athirst or hungry there,\nAnd none had dust upon his hair.\nOn every side in woody dells\nWas milky food in bubbling wells,\nAnd there were all-supplying cows\nAnd honey dropping from the boughs.\nNor wanted lakes of flower-made drink\nWith piles of meat upon the brink,\nBoiled, stewed, and roasted, varied cheer,\nPeachick and jungle-fowl and deer,\nThere was the flesh of kid and boar,\nAnd dainty sauce in endless store,\nWith juice of flowers concocted well,\nAnd soup that charmed the taste and smell,\nAnd pounded fruits of bitter taste,\nAnd many a bath was ready placed\nDown by each river\u2019s shelving side\nThere stood great basins well supplied,\nAnd laid therein, of dazzling sheen,\nWhite brushes for the teeth were seen,\nAnd many a covered box wherein\nWas sandal powdered for the skin.\nAnd mirrors bright with constant care,\nAnd piles of new attire were there,\nAnd store of sandals and of shoes,\nThousands of pairs, for all to choose:\nEye-unguents, combs for hair and beard,\nUmbrellas fair and bows appeared.\nLakes gleamed, that lent digestive aid,(368)\nAnd some for pleasant bathing made,\nWith waters fair, and smooth incline\nFor camels, horses, mules, and kine.\nThere saw they barley heaped on high\nThe countless cattle to supply:\nThe golden grain shone fair and bright\nAs sapphires or the lazulite.\nTo all the gathered host it seemed\nAs if that magic scene they dreamed,\nAnd wonder, as they gazed, increased\nAt Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s glorious feast.\n\n  Thus in the hermit\u2019s grove they spent\nThat night in joy and merriment,\nBlest as the Gods who take their ease\nUnder the shade of Nandan\u2019s trees.\nEach minstrel bade the saint adieu,\nAnd to his blissful mansion flew,\nAnd every stream and heavenly dame\nReturned as swiftly as she came.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCII. Bharat\u2019s Farewell.\n\n\nSo Bharat with his army spent\nThe watches of the night content,\nAnd gladly, with the morning\u2019s light\nDrew near his host the anchorite.\nWhen Bharadv\u00e1ja saw him stand\nWith hand in reverence joined to hand,\nWhen fires of worship had been fed,\nHe looked upon the prince and said:\n\u201cO blameless son, I pray thee tell,\nDid the past night content thee well?\nSay if the feast my care supplied\nThy host of followers gratified.\u201d\n\n  His hands he joined, his head he bent\nAnd spoke in answer reverent\nTo the most high and radiant sage\nWho issued from his hermitage:\n\u201cWell have I passed the night: thy feast\nGave joy to every man and beast;\nAnd I, great lord, and every peer\nWere satisfied with sumptuous cheer,\nThy banquet has delighted all\nFrom highest chief to meanest thrall,\nAnd rich attire and drink and meat\nBanished the thought of toil and heat.\nAnd now, O Hermit good and great,\nA boon of thee I supplicate.\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s side my steps I bend:\nDo thou with friendly eye commend.\nO tell me how to guide my feet\nTo virtuous R\u00e1ma\u2019s lone retreat:\nGreat Hermit, I entreat thee, say\nHow far from here and which the way.\u201d\n\n  Thus by fraternal love inspired\nThe chieftain of the saint inquired:\nThen thus replied the glorious seer\nOf matchless might, of vows austere:\n\u201cEre the fourth league from here be passed,\nAmid a forest wild and vast,\nStands Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s mountain tall,\nLovely with wood and waterfall.\nNorth of the mountain thou wilt see\nThe beauteous stream Mand\u00e1kin\u00ed,\nWhere swarm the waterfowl below,\nAnd gay trees on the margin grow.\nThen will a leafy cot between\nThe river and the hill be seen:\n\u2019Tis R\u00e1ma\u2019s, and the princely pair\nOf brothers live for certain there.\nHence to the south thine army lead,\nAnd then more southward still proceed,\nSo shalt thou find his lone retreat,\nAnd there the son of Raghu meet.\u201d\n\n  Soon as the ordered march they knew,\nThe widows of the monarch flew,\nLeaving their cars, most meet to ride,\nAnd flocked to Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s side.\nThere with the good Sumitr\u00e1 Queen\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, sad and worn, was seen,\nCaressing, still with sorrow faint,\nThe feet of that illustrious saint,\nKaikey\u00ed too, her longings crossed,\nReproached of all, her object lost,\nBefore the famous hermit came,\nAnd clasped his feet, o\u2019erwhelmed with shame.\nWith circling steps she humbly went\nAround the saint pre\u00ebminent,\nAnd stood not far from Bharat\u2019s side\nWith heart oppressed, and heavy-eyed.\nThen the great seer, who never broke\nOne holy vow, to Bharat spoke:\n\u201cSpeak, Raghu\u2019s son: I fain would learn\nThe story of each queen in turn.\u201d\n\n  Obedient to the high request\nBy Bharadv\u00e1ja thus addressed,\nHis reverent hands together laid,\nHe, skilled in speech, his answer made:\n\u201cShe whom, O Saint, thou seest here\nA Goddess in her form appear,\nWas the chief consort of the king,\nNow worn with fast and sorrowing.\nAs Aditi in days of yore\nThe all-preserving Vish\u1e47u bore,\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 bore with happy fate\nLord R\u00e1ma of the lion\u2019s gait.\nShe who, transfixed with torturing pangs,\nOn her left arm so fondly hangs,\nAs when her withering leaves decay\nDroops by the wood the Cassia spray,\nSumitr\u00e1, pained with woe, is she,\nThe consort second of the three:\nTwo princely sons the lady bare,\nFair as the Gods in heaven are fair.\nAnd she, the wicked dame through whom\nMy brothers\u2019 lives are wrapped in gloom,\nAnd mourning for his offspring dear,\nThe king has sought his heavenly sphere,\u2014\nProud, foolish-hearted, swift to ire,\nSelf-fancied darling of my sire,\nKaikey\u00ed, most ambitious queen,\nUnlovely with her lovely mien,\nMy mother she, whose impious will\nIs ever bent on deeds of ill,\nIn whom the root and spring I see\nOf all this woe which crushes me.\u201d\n\n  Quick breathing like a furious snake,\nWith tears and sobs the hero spake,\nWith reddened eyes aglow with rage.\nAnd Bharadv\u00e1ja, mighty sage,\nSupreme in wisdom, calm and grave,\nIn words like these good counsel gave:\n\u201cO Bharat, hear the words I say;\nOn her the fault thou must not lay:\nFor many a blessing yet will spring\nFrom banished R\u00e1ma\u2019s wandering.\u201d\nAnd Bharat, with that promise cheered,\nWent circling round that saint revered,\nHe humbly bade farewell, and then\nGave orders to collect his men.\nPrompt at the summons thousands flew\nTo cars which noble coursers drew,\nBright-gleaming, glorious to behold,\nAdorned with wealth of burnished gold.\nThen female elephants and male,\nGold-girthed, with flags that wooed the gale,\nMarched with their bright bells\u2019 tinkling chime\nLike clouds when ends the summer time:\nSome cars were huge and some were light,\nFor heavy draught or rapid flight,\nOf costly price, of every kind,\nWith clouds of infantry behind.\nThe dames, Kau\u015baly\u00e1 at their head,\nWere in the noblest chariots led,\nAnd every gentle bosom beat\nWith hope the banished prince to meet.\nThe royal Bharat, glory-crowned,\nWith all his retinue around,\nBorne in a beauteous litter rode,\nLike the young moon and sun that glowed.\nThe army as it streamed along,\nCars, elephants, in endless throng,\nShowed, marching on its southward way,\nLike autumn clouds in long array.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCIII. Chitrak\u00fata In Sight.\n\n\nAs through the woods its way pursued\nThat mighty bannered multitude,\nWild elephants in terror fled\nWith all the startled herds they led,\nAnd bears and deer were seen on hill,\nIn forest glade, by every rill.\nWide as the sea from coast to coast,\nThe high-souled Bharat\u2019s mighty host\nCovered the earth as cloudy trains\nObscure the sky when fall the rains.\nThe stately elephants he led,\nAnd countless steeds the land o\u2019erspread,\nSo closely crowded that between\nTheir serried ranks no ground was seen.\nThen when the host had travelled far,\nAnd steeds were worn who drew the car,\nThe glorious Bharat thus addressed\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, of his lords the best:\n\u201cThe spot, methinks, we now behold\nOf which the holy hermit told,\nFor, as his words described, I trace\nEach several feature of the place:\nBefore us Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da shows,\nMand\u00e1kin\u00ed beside us flows:\nAfar umbrageous woods arise\nLike darksome clouds that veil the skies.\nNow tread these mountain-beasts of mine\nOn Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s fair incline.\nThe trees their rain of blossoms shed\nOn table-lands beneath them spread,\nAs from black clouds the floods descend\nWhen the hot days of summer end.\n\u015aatrughna, look, the mountain see\nWhere heavenly minstrels wander free,\nAnd horses browse beneath the steep,\nCountless as monsters in the deep.\nScared by my host the mountain deer\nStarting with tempest speed appear\nLike the long lines of cloud that fly\nIn autumn through the windy sky.\nSee, every warrior shows his head\nWith fragrant blooms engarlanded;\nAll look like southern soldiers who\nLift up their shields of azure hue.\nThis lonely wood beneath the hill,\nThat was so dark and drear and still,\nCovered with men in endless streams\nNow like Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s city seems.\nThe dust which countless hoofs excite\nObscures the sky and veils the light;\nBut see, swift winds those clouds dispel\nAs if they strove to please me well.\nSee, guided in their swift career\nBy many a skilful charioteer,\nThose cars by fleetest coursers drawn\nRace onward over glade and lawn.\nLook, startled as the host comes near\nThe lovely peacocks fly in fear,\nGorgeous as if the fairest blooms\nOf earth had glorified their plumes.\nLook where the sheltering covert shows\nThe trooping deer, both bucks and does,\nThat occupy in countless herds\nThis mountain populous with birds.\nMost lovely to my mind appears\nThis place which every charm endears:\nFair as the road where tread the Blest;\nHere holy hermits take their rest.\nThen let the army onward press\nAnd duly search each green recess\nFor the two lion-lords, till we\nR\u00e1ma once more and Lakshma\u1e47 see.\u201d\n\n  Thus Bharat spoke: and hero bands\nOf men with weapons in their hands\nEntered the tangled forest: then\nA spire of smoke appeared in ken.\nSoon as they saw the rising smoke\nTo Bharat they returned and spoke:\n\u201cNo fire where men are not: \u2019tis clear\nThat Raghu\u2019s sons are dwelling here.\nOr if not here those heroes dwell\nWhose mighty arms their foeman quell,\nStill other hermits here must be\nLike R\u00e1ma, true and good as he.\u201d\n\n  His ears attentive Bharat lent\nTo their resistless argument,\nThen to his troops the chief who broke\nHis foe\u2019s embattled armies spoke:\n\u201cHere let the troops in silence stay;\nOne step beyond they must not stray.\nCome Dhrish\u1e6di and Sumantra, you\nWith me alone the path pursue.\u201d\nTheir leader\u2019s speech the warriors heard,\nAnd from his place no soldier stirred,\nAnd Bharat bent his eager eyes\nWhere curling smoke was seen to rise.\n\n  The host his order well obeyed,\nAnd halting there in silence stayed\nWatching where from the thicket\u2019s shade\n  They saw the smoke appear.\nAnd joy through all the army ran,\n\u201cSoon shall we meet,\u201d thought every man,\n  \u201cThe prince we hold so dear.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCIV. Chitrak\u00fata.\n\n\nThere long the son of Raghu dwelt\nAnd love for hill and wood he felt.\nThen his Videhan spouse to please\nAnd his own heart of woe to ease,\nLike some Immortal\u2014Indra so\nMight Swarga\u2019s charms to \u015aach\u00ed show\u2014\nDrew her sweet eyes to each delight\nOf Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s lovely height:\n\u201cThough reft of power and kingly sway,\nThough friends and home are far away,\nI cannot mourn my altered lot,\nEnamoured of this charming spot.\nLook, darling, on this noble hill\nWhich sweet birds with their music fill,\nBright with a thousand metal dyes\nHis lofty summits cleave the skies.\nSee, there a silvery sheen is spread,\nAnd there like blood the rocks are red.\nThere shows a streak of emerald green,\nAnd pink and yellow glow between.\nThere where the higher peaks ascend,\nCrystal and flowers and topaz blend,\nAnd others flash their light afar\nLike mercury or some fair star:\nWith such a store of metals dyed\nThe king of hills is glorified.\nThere through the wild birds\u2019 populous home\nThe harmless bear and tiger roam:\nHy\u00e6nas range the woody slopes\nWith herds of deer and antelopes.\nSee, love, the trees that clothe his side\nAll lovely in their summer pride,\nIn richest wealth of leaves arrayed,\nWith flower and fruit and light and shade,\nLook where the young Rose-apple glows;\nWhat loaded boughs the Mango shows;\nSee, waving in the western wind\nThe light leaves of the Tamarind,\nAnd mark that giant Peepul through\nThe feathery clump of tall bamboo.(369)\nLook, on the level lands above,\nDelighting in successful love\nIn sweet enjoyment many a pair\nOf heavenly minstrels revels there,\nWhile overhanging boughs support\nTheir swords and mantles as they sport:\nThen see that pleasant shelter where\nPlay the bright Daughters of the Air.(370)\nThe mountain seems with bright cascade\nAnd sweet rill bursting from the shade,\nLike some majestic elephant o\u2019er\nWhose burning head the torrents pour.\nWhere breathes the man who would not feel\nDelicious languor o\u2019er him steal,\nAs the young morning breeze that springs\nFrom the cool cave with balmy wings,\nBreathes round him laden with the scent\nOf bud and blossom dew-besprent?\nIf many autumns here I spent\nWith thee, my darling innocent,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, I should never know\nThe torture of the fires of woe,\nThis varied scene so charms my sight,\nThis mount so fills me with delight,\nWhere flowers in wild profusion spring,\nAnd ripe fruits glow and sweet birds sing.\nMy beauteous one, a double good\nSprings from my dwelling in the wood:\nLoosed is the bond my sire that tied,\nAnd Bharat too is gratified.\nMy darling, dost thou feel with me\nDelight from every charm we see,\nOf which the mind and every sense\nFeel the enchanting influence?\nMy fathers who have passed away,\nThe royal saints, were wont to say,\nThat life in woodland shades like this\nSecures a king immortal bliss.\nSee, round the hill at random thrown,\nHuge masses lie of rugged stone\nOf every shape and many a hue,\nYellow and white and red and blue.\nBut all is fairer still by night:\nEach rock reflects a softer light,\nWhen the whole mount from foot to crest\nIn robes of lambent flame is dressed;\nWhen from a million herbs a blaze\nOf their own luminous glory plays,\nAnd clothed in fire each deep ravine,\nEach pinnacle and crag is seen.\nSome parts the look of mansions wear,\nAnd others are as gardens fair,\nWhile others seem a massive block\nOf solid undivided rock.\nBehold those pleasant beds o\u2019erlaid\nWith lotus leaves, for lovers made,\nWhere mountain birch and costus throw\nCool shadows on the pair below.\nSee where the lovers in their play\nHave cast their flowery wreaths away,\nAnd fruit and lotus buds that crowned\nTheir brows lie trodden on the ground.\nNorth Kuru\u2019s realm is fair to see,\nVasvaukas\u00e1r\u00e1,(371) Nalin\u00ed,(372)\nBut rich in fruit and blossom still\nMore fair is Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill.\nHere shall the years appointed glide\nWith thee, my beauty, by my side,\n  And Lakshma\u1e47 ever near;\nHere shall I live in all delight,\nMake my ancestral fame more bright,\nTread in their path who walk aright,\n  And to my oath adhere.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCV. Mand\u00e1kin\u00ed.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, like the lotus eyed,\nDescended from the mountain side,\nAnd to the Maithil lady showed\nThe lovely stream that softly flowed.\nAnd thus Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s lord addressed\nHis bride, of dames the loveliest,\nChild of Videha\u2019s king, her face\nBright with the fair moon\u2019s tender grace:\n\u201cHow sweetly glides, O darling, look,\nMand\u00e1kin\u00ed\u2019s delightful brook,\nAdorned with islets, blossoms gay,\nAnd s\u00e1rases and swans at play!\nThe trees with which her banks are lined\nShow flowers and fruit of every kind:\nThe match in radiant sheen is she\nOf King Kuvera\u2019s Nalin\u00ed.(373)\nMy heart exults with pleasure new\nThe shelving band and ford to view,\nWhere gathering herds of thirsty deer\nDisturb the wave that ran so clear.\nNow look, those holy hermits mark\nIn skins of deer and coats of bark;\nWith twisted coils of matted hair,\nThe reverend men are bathing there,\nAnd as they lift their arms on high\nThe Lord of Day they glorify:\nThese best of saints, my large-eyed spouse,\nAre constant to their sacred vows.\nThe mountain dances while the trees\nBend their proud summits to the breeze,\nAnd scatter many a flower and bud\nFrom branches that o\u2019erhang the flood.\nThere flows the stream like lucid pearl,\nRound islets here the currents whirl,\nAnd perfect saints from middle air\nAre flocking to the waters there.\nSee, there lie flowers in many a heap\nFrom boughs the whistling breezes sweep,\nAnd others wafted by the gale\nDown the swift current dance and sail.\nNow see that pair of wild-fowl rise,\nExulting with their joyful cries:\nHark, darling, wafted from afar\nHow soft their pleasant voices are.\nTo gaze on Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill,\nTo look upon this lovely rill,\nTo bend mine eyes on thee, dear wife,\nIs sweeter than my city life.\nCome, bathe we in the pleasant rill\nWhose dancing waves are never still,\nStirred by those beings pure from sin,\nThe sanctities who bathe therein:\nCome, dearest, to the stream descend,\nApproach her as a darling friend,\nAnd dip thee in the silver flood\nWhich lotuses and lilies stud.\nLet this fair hill Ayodhy\u00e1 seem,\nIts silvan things her people deem,\nAnd let these waters as they flow\nOur own beloved Sarj\u00fa show.\nHow blest, mine own dear love, am I;\nThou, fond and true, art ever nigh,\nAnd duteous, faithful Lakshma\u1e47 stays\nBeside me, and my word obeys.\nHere every day I bathe me thrice,\nFruit, honey, roots for food suffice,\nAnd ne\u2019er my thoughts with longing stray\nTo distant home or royal sway.\nFor who this charming brook can see\nWhere herds of roedeer wander free,\nAnd on the flowery-wooded brink\nApes, elephants, and lions drink,\n  Nor feel all sorrow fly?\u201d\nThus eloquently spoke the pride\nOf Raghu\u2019s children to his bride,\nAnd wandered happy by her side\nWhere Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da azure-dyed\n  Uprears his peaks on high.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCVI. The Magic Shaft.(374)\n\n\nThus R\u00e1ma showed to Janak\u2019s child\nThe varied beauties of the wild,\nThe hill, the brook and each fair spot,\nThen turned to seek their leafy cot.\nNorth of the mountain R\u00e1ma found\nA cavern in the sloping ground,\nCharming to view, its floor was strown\nWith many a mass of ore and stone,\nIn secret shadow far retired\nWhere gay birds sang with joy inspired,\nAnd trees their graceful branches swayed\nWith loads of blossom downward weighed.\nSoon as he saw the cave which took\nEach living heart and chained the look,\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke to S\u00edt\u00e1 who\nGazed wondering on the silvan view:\n\u201cDoes this fair cave beneath the height,\nVidehan lady, charm thy sight?\nThen let us resting here a while\nThe languor of the way beguile.\nThat block of stone so smooth and square\nWas set for thee to rest on there,\nAnd like a thriving Ke\u015bar tree\nThis flowery shrub o\u2019ershadows thee.\u201d\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke, and Janak\u2019s child,\nBy nature ever soft and mild,\nIn tender words which love betrayed\nHer answer to the hero made:\n\u201cO pride of Raghu\u2019s children, still\nMy pleasure is to do thy will.\nEnough for me thy wish to know:\nFar hast thou wandered to and fro.\u201d\n\n  Thus S\u00edt\u00e1 spake in gentle tone,\nAnd went obedient to the stone,\nOf perfect face and faultless limb\nPrepared to rest a while with him.\nAnd R\u00e1ma, as she thus replied,\nTurned to his spouse again and cried:\n\u201cThou seest, love, this flowery shade\nFor silvan creatures\u2019 pleasure made,\nHow the gum streams from trees and plants\nTorn by the tusks of elephants!\nThrough all the forest clear and high\nResounds the shrill cicala\u2019s cry.\nHark how the kite above us moans,\nAnd calls her young in piteous tones;\nSo may my hapless mother be\nStill mourning in her home for me.\nThere mounted on that lofty S\u00e1l\nThe loud Bhringr\u00e1j(375) repeats his call:\nHow sweetly now he tunes his throat\nResponsive to the Ko\u00efl\u2019s note.\nOr else the bird that now has sung\nMay be himself the Ko\u00efl\u2019s young,\nLinked with such winning sweetness are\nThe notes he pours irregular.\nSee, round the blooming Mango clings\nThat creeper with her tender rings,\nSo in thy love, when none is near,\nThine arms are thrown round me, my dear.\u201d\n\n  Thus in his joy he cried; and she,\nSweet speaker, on her lover\u2019s knee,\nOf faultless limb and perfect face,\nGrew closer to her lord\u2019s embrace.\nReclining in her husband\u2019s arms,\nA goddess in her wealth of charms,\nShe filled his loving breast anew\nWith mighty joy that thrilled him through.\nHis finger on the rock he laid,\nWhich veins of sanguine ore displayed,\nAnd painted o\u2019er his darling\u2019s eyes\nThe holy sign in mineral dyes.\nBright on her brow the metal lay\nLike the young sun\u2019s first gleaming ray,\nAnd showed her in her beauty fair\nAs the soft light of morning\u2019s air.\nThen from the Ke\u015bar\u2019s laden tree\nHe picked fair blossoms in his glee,\nAnd as he decked each lovely tress,\nHis heart o\u2019erflowed with happiness.\nSo resting on that rocky seat\nA while they spent in pastime sweet,\nThen onward neath the shady boughs\nWent R\u00e1ma with his Maithil spouse.\nShe roaming in the forest shade\nWhere every kind of creature strayed\nObserved a monkey wandering near,\nAnd clung to R\u00e1ma\u2019s arm in fear.\nThe hero R\u00e1ma fondly laced\nHis mighty arms around her waist,\nConsoled his beauty in her dread,\nAnd scared the Monkey till he fled.\nThat holy mark of sanguine ore\nThat gleamed on S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s brow before,\nShone by that close embrace impressed\nUpon the hero\u2019s ample chest.\nThen S\u00edt\u00e1, when the beast who led\nThe monkey troop, afar had fled,\nLaughed loudly in light-hearted glee\nThat mark on R\u00e1ma\u2019s chest to see.\nA clump of bright A\u015bokas fired\nThe forest in their bloom attired:\nThe restless blossoms as they gleamed\nA host of threatening monkeys seemed.\nThen S\u00edt\u00e1 thus to R\u00e1ma cried,\nAs longingly the flowers she eyed:\n\u201cPride of thy race, now let us go\nWhere those A\u015boka blossoms grow.\u201d\nHe on his darling\u2019s pleasure bent\nWith his fair goddess thither went\nAnd roamed delighted through the wood\nWhere blossoming A\u015bokas stood,\nAs \u015aiva with Queen Um\u00e1 roves\nThrough Himav\u00e1n\u2019s majestic groves.\nBright with purpureal glow the pair\nOf happy lovers sported there,\nAnd each upon the other set\nA flower-inwoven coronet.\nThere many a crown and chain they wove\nOf blooms from that A\u015boka grove,\nAnd in their graceful sport the two\nFresh beauty o\u2019er the mountain threw.\nThe lover let his love survey\nEach pleasant spot that round them lay,\nThen turned they to their green retreat\nWhere all was garnished, gay, and neat.\nBy brotherly affection led,\nSumitr\u00e1\u2019s son to meet them sped,\nAnd showed the labours of the day\nDone while his brother was away.\nThere lay ten black-deer duly slain\nWith arrows pure of poison stain,\nPiled in a mighty heap to dry,\nWith many another carcass nigh.\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s brother saw, o\u2019erjoyed,\nThe work that had his hands employed,\nThen to his consort thus he cried:\n\u201cNow be the general gifts supplied.\u201d\nThen S\u00edt\u00e1, fairest beauty, placed\nThe food for living things to taste,\nAnd set before the brothers meat\nAnd honey that the pair might eat.\nThey ate the meal her hands supplied,\nTheir lips with water purified:\nThen Janak\u2019s daughter sat at last\nAnd duly made her own repast.\nThe other venison, to be dried,\nPiled up in heaps was set aside,\nAnd R\u00e1ma told his wife to stay\nAnd drive the flocking crows away.\nHer husband saw her much distressed\nBy one more bold than all the rest,\nWhose wings where\u2019er he chose could fly,\nNow pierce the earth, now roam the sky.\nThen R\u00e1ma laughed to see her stirred\nTo anger by the plaguing bird:\nProud of his love the beauteous dame\nWith burning rage was all aflame.\nNow here, now there, again, again\nShe chased the crow, but all in vain,\nEnraging her, so quick to strike\nWith beak and wing and claw alike:\nThen how the proud lip quivered, how\nThe dark frown marked her angry brow!\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw her cheek aglow\nWith passion, he rebuked the crow.\nBut bold in impudence the bird,\nWith no respect for R\u00e1ma\u2019s word,\nFearless again at S\u00edt\u00e1 flew:\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s wrath to fury grew.\nThe hero of the mighty arm\nSpoke o\u2019er a shaft the mystic charm,\nLaid the dire weapon on his bow\nAnd launched it at the shameless crow.\nThe bird, empowered by Gods to spring\nThrough earth itself on rapid wing,\nThrough the three worlds in terror fled\nStill followed by that arrow dread.\nWhere\u2019er he flew, now here now there,\nA cloud of weapons filled the air.\nBack to the high-souled prince he fled\nAnd bent at R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet his head,\nAnd then, as S\u00edt\u00e1 looked, began\nHis speech in accents of a man:\n\u201cO pardon, and for pity\u2019s sake\nSpare, R\u00e1ma, spare my life to take!\nWhere\u2019er I turn, where\u2019er I flee,\nNo shelter from this shaft I see.\u201d\n\n  The chieftain heard the crow entreat\nHelpless and prostrate at his feet,\nAnd while soft pity moved his breast,\nWith wisest speech the bird addressed:\n\u201cI took the troubled S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s part,\nAnd furious anger filled my heart.\nThen on the string my arrow lay\nCharmed with a spell thy life to slay.\nThou seekest now my feet, to crave\nForgiveness and thy life to save.\nSo shall thy prayer have due respect:\nThe suppliant I must still protect.\nBut ne\u2019er in vain this dart may flee;\nYield for thy life a part of thee,\nWhat portion of thy body, say,\nShall this mine arrow rend away?\nThus far, O bird, thus far alone\nOn thee my pity may be shown.\nForfeit a part thy life to buy:\n\u2019Tis better so to live than die.\u201d\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke: the bird of air\nPondered his speech with anxious care,\nAnd wisely deemed it good to give\nOne of his eyes that he might live.\nTo Raghu\u2019s son he made reply:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, I will yield an eye.\nSo let me in thy grace confide\nAnd live hereafter single-eyed.\u201d\nThen R\u00e1ma charged the shaft, and lo,\nFull in the eye it smote the crow.\nAnd the Videhan lady gazed\nUpon the ruined eye amazed.\nThe crow to R\u00e1ma humbly bent,\nThen where his fancy led he went.\nR\u00e1ma with Lakshma\u1e47 by his side\nWith needful work was occupied.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCVII. Lakshman\u2019s Anger.\n\n\nThus R\u00e1ma showed his love the rill\nWhose waters ran beneath the hill,\nThen resting on his mountain seat\nRefreshed her with the choicest meat.\nSo there reposed the happy two:\nThen Bharat\u2019s army nearer drew:\nRose to the skies a dusty cloud,\nThe sound of trampling feet was loud.\nThe swelling roar of marching men\nDrove the roused tiger from his den,\nAnd scared amain the serpent race\nFlying to hole and hiding-place.\nThe herds of deer in terror fled,\nThe air was filled with birds o\u2019erhead,\nThe bear began to leave his tree,\nThe monkey to the cave to flee.\nWild elephants were all amazed\nAs though the wood around them blazed.\nThe lion oped his ponderous jaw,\nThe buffalo looked round in awe.\nThe prince, who heard the deafening sound,\nAnd saw the silvan creatures round\nFly wildly startled from their rest,\nThe glorious Lakshma\u1e47 thus addressed:\n\u201cSumitr\u00e1\u2019s noble son most dear,\nHark, Lakshma\u1e47, what a roar I hear,\nThe tumult of a coming crowd,\nAppalling, deafening, deep, and loud!\nThe din that yet more fearful grows\nScares elephants and buffaloes,\nOr frightened by the lions, deer\nAre flying through the wood in fear.\nI fain would know who seeks this place\nComes prince or monarch for the chase?\nOr does some mighty beast of prey\nFrighten the silvan herds away?\n\u2019Tis hard to reach this mountain height,\nYea, e\u2019en for birds in airy flight.\nThen fain, O Lakshma\u1e47, would I know\nWhat cause disturbs the forest so.\u201d\n\n  Lakshma\u1e47 in haste, the wood to view,\nClimbed a high S\u00e1l that near him grew,\nThe forest all around he eyed,\nFirst gazing on the eastern side.\nThen northward when his eyes he bent\nHe saw a mighty armament\nOf elephants, and cars, and horse,\nAnd men on foot, a mingled force,\nAnd banners waving in the breeze,\nAnd spoke to R\u00e1ma words like these:\n\u201cQuick, quick, my lord, put out the fire,\nLet S\u00edt\u00e1 to the cave retire.\nThy coat of mail around thee throw,\nPrepare thine arrows and thy bow.\u201d\n\n  In eager haste thus Lakshma\u1e47 cried,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, lion lord, replied:\n\u201cStill closer be the army scanned,\nAnd say who leads the warlike band.\u201d\nLakshma\u1e47 his answer thus returned,\nAs furious rage within him burned,\nExciting him like kindled fire\nTo scorch the army in his ire:\n\u201c\u2019Tis Bharat: he has made the throne\nBy consecrating rites his own:\nTo gain the whole dominion thus\nHe comes in arms to slaughter us.\nI mark tree-high upon his car\nHis flagstaff of the Kovid\u00e1r,(376)\nI see his glittering banner glance,\nI see his chivalry advance:\nI see his eager warriors shine\nOn elephants in lengthened line.\nNow grasp we each the shafts and bow,\nAnd higher up the mountain go.\nOr in this place, O hero, stand\nWith weapons in each ready hand.\nPerhaps beneath our might may fall\nThis leader of the standard tall,\nAnd Bharat I this day may see\nWho brought this mighty woe on thee,\nS\u00edt\u00e1, and me, who drove away\nMy brother from the royal sway.\nBharat our foe at length is nigh,\nAnd by this hand shall surely die:\nBrother, I see no sin at all\nIf Bharat by my weapon fall.\nNo fault is his who slays the foe\nWhose hand was first to strike the blow:\nWith Bharat now the crime begins\nWho against thee and duty sins.\nThe queen athirst for royal sway\nWill see her darling son to-day\nFall by this hand, like some fair tree\nStruck by an elephant, slain by me.\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s self shall perish too\nWith kith and kin and retinue,\nAnd earth by my avenging deed\nShall from this mass of sin be freed.\nThis day my wrath, too long restrained,\nShall fall upon the foe, unchained,\nMad as the kindled flame that speeds\nDestroying through the grass and reeds.\nThis day mine arrows keen and fierce\nThe bodies of the foe shall pierce:\nThe woods on Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s side\nShall run with torrents crimson-dyed.\nThe wandering beasts of prey shall feed\nOn heart-cleft elephant and steed,\nAnd drag to mountain caves away\nThe bodies that my arrows slay.\nDoubt not that Bharat and his train\nShall in this mighty wood be slain:\nSo shall I pay the debt my bow\nAnd these my deadly arrows owe.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCVIII. Lakshman Calmed.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma nobly calm allayed\nThe wrath that Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s bosom swayed:\n\u201cWhat need have we the sword to wield,\nTo bend the bow or lift the shield,\nIf Bharat brave, and wise, and good,\nHimself has sought this sheltering wood?\nI sware my father\u2019s will to do,\nAnd if I now my brother slew\nWhat gain in kingship should I find,\nDespised and scorned by all mankind?\nBelieve me, e\u2019en as I would shrink\nFrom poisoned meat or deadly drink,\nNo power or treasure would I win\nBy fall of friend or kith or kin.\nBrother, believe the words I speak:\nFor your dear sakes alone I seek\nDuty and pleasure, wealth and gain:\nA holy life, a happy reign.\nIf royal sway my heart desires,\nMy brothers\u2019 weal the wish inspires:\nTheir bliss and safety is my care,\nBy this uplifted bow I swear.\n\u2019Twere not so hard for me to gain\nThis broad land girdled by the main,\nBut even Indra\u2019s royal might\nShould ne\u2019er be mine in duty\u2019s spite.\nIf any bliss my soul can see\nDeprived of dear \u015aatrughna, thee,\nAnd Bharat, may the flame destroy\nWith ashy gloom the selfish joy.\nFar dearer than this life of mine,\nKnowing the custom of our line,\nHis heart with fond affection fraught,\nBharat Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town resought\nAnd hearing when he came that I,\nWith thee and S\u00edt\u00e1, forced to fly\nWith matted hair and hermit dress\nAm wandering in the wilderness.\nWhile grief his troubled senses storms,\nAnd tender love his bosom warms,\nFrom every thought of evil clear,\nIs come to meet his brother here.\nSome grievous words perchance he spoke\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s anger to provoke,\nThen won the king, and comes to lay\nBefore my feet the royal sway.\nHither, methinks, in season due\nComes Bharat for an interview,\nNor in his secret heart has he\nOne evil thought \u2019gainst thee or me.\nWhat has he done ere now, reflect!\nHow failed in love or due respect\nTo make thee doubt his faith and lay\nThis evil to his charge to-day?\nThou shouldst not join with Bharat\u2019s name\nSo harsh a speech and idle blame.\nThe blows thy tongue at Bharat deals,\nMy sympathizing bosom feels.\nHow, urged by stress of any ill,\nShould sons their father\u2019s life-blood spill,\nOr brother slay in impious strife\nA brother dearer than his life?\nIf thou these cruel words hast said\nBy strong desire of empire led,\nMy brother Bharat will I pray\nTo give to thee the kingly sway.\n\u201cGive him the realm,\u201d my speech shall be,\nAnd Bharat will, methinks, agree.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the prince whose chief delight\nWas duty, and to aid the right:\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 keenly felt the blame,\nAnd shrank within himself for shame:\nAnd then his answer thus returned,\nWith downcast eye and cheek that burned:\n\u201cBrother, I ween, to see thy face\nOur sire himself has sought this place.\u201d\nThus Lakshma\u1e47 spoke and stood ashamed,\nAnd R\u00e1ma saw and thus exclaimed:\n\u201cIt is the strong-armed monarch: he\nIs come, methinks, his sons to see,\nTo bid us both the forest quit\nFor joys for which he deems us fit:\nHe thinks on all our care and pain,\nAnd now would lead us home again.\nMy glorious father hence will bear\nS\u00edt\u00e1 who claims all tender care.\nI see two coursers fleet as storms,\nOf noble breed and lovely forms.\nI see the beast of mountain size\nWho bears the king our father wise,\nThe aged Victor, march this way\nIn front of all the armed array.\nBut doubt and fear within me rise,\nFor when I look with eager eyes\nI see no white umbrella spread,\nWorld-famous, o\u2019er the royal head.\nNow, Lakshma\u1e47, from the tree descend,\nAnd to my words attention lend.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the pious prince: and he\nDescended from the lofty tree,\nAnd reverent hand to hand applied,\nStood humbly by his brother\u2019s side.\n\n  The host, compelled by Bharat\u2019s care,\nThe wood from trampling feet to spare,\nDense crowding half a league each way\nEncamped around the mountain lay.\nBelow the tall hill\u2019s shelving side\nGleamed the bright army far and wide\n  Spread o\u2019er the ample space,\nBy Bharat led who firmly true\nIn duty from his bosom threw\nAll pride, and near his brother drew\n  To win the hero\u2019s grace.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCIX. Bharat\u2019s Approach.\n\n\nSoon as the warriors took their rest\nObeying Bharat\u2019s high behest,\nThus Bharat to \u015aatrughna spake:\n\u201cA band of soldiers with thee take,\nAnd with these hunters o\u2019er and o\u2019er\nThe thickets of the wood explore.\nWith bow, sword, arrows in their hands\nLet Guha with his kindred bands\nWithin this grove remaining trace\nThe children of Kakutstha\u2019s race.\nAnd I meanwhile on foot will through\nThis neighbouring wood my way pursue,\nWith elders and the twice-born men,\nAnd every lord and citizen.\nThere is, I feel, no rest for me\nTill R\u00e1ma\u2019s face again I see,\nLakshma\u1e47, in arms and glory great,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 born to happy fate:\nNo rest, until his cheek as bright\nAs the fair moon rejoice my sight,\nNo rest until I see the eye\nWith which the lotus petals vie;\nTill on my head those dear feet rest\nWith signs of royal rank impressed;\nNone, till my kingly brother gain\nHis old hereditary reign,\nTill o\u2019er his limbs and noble head\nThe consecrating drops be shed.\nHow blest is Janak\u2019s daughter, true\nTo every wifely duty, who\nCleaves faithful to her husband\u2019s side\nWhose realm is girt by Ocean\u2019s tide!\nThis mountain too above the rest\nE\u2019en as the King of Hills is blest,\u2014\nWhose shades Kakutstha\u2019s scion hold\nAs Nandan charms the Lord of Gold.\nYea, happy is this tangled grove\nWhere savage beasts unnumbered rove,\nWhere, glory of the Warrior race,\nKing R\u00e1ma finds a dwelling-place.\u201d\n\n  Thus Bharat, strong-armed hero spake,\nAnd walked within the pathless brake.\nO\u2019er plains where gay trees bloomed he went,\nThrough boughs in tangled net-work bent,\nAnd then from R\u00e1ma\u2019s cot appeared\nThe banner which the flame upreared.\nAnd Bharat joyed with every friend\nTo mark those smoky wreaths ascend:\n\u201cHere R\u00e1ma dwells,\u201d he thought; \u201cat last\nThe ocean of our toil is passed.\u201d\n  Then sure that R\u00e1ma\u2019s hermit cot\n    Was on the mountain\u2019s side\n  He stayed his army on the spot,\n    And on with Guha hied.\n\n\n\n\nCanto C. The Meeting.\n\n\nThen Bharat to \u015aatrughna showed\nThe spot, and eager onward strode,\nFirst bidding Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha bring\nThe widowed consorts of the king.\nAs by fraternal love impelled\nHis onward course the hero held,\nSumantra followed close behind\n\u015aatrughna with an anxious mind:\nNot Bharat\u2019s self more fain could be\nTo look on R\u00e1ma\u2019s face than he.\nAs, speeding on, the spot he neared,\nAmid the hermits\u2019 homes appeared\nHis brother\u2019s cot with leaves o\u2019erspread,\nAnd by its side a lowly shed.\nBefore the shed great heaps were left\nOf gathered flowers and billets cleft,\nAnd on the trees hung grass and bark\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s path to mark:\nAnd heaps of fuel to provide\nAgainst the cold stood ready dried.\nThe long-armed chief, as on he went\nIn glory\u2019s light pre\u00ebminent,\nWith joyous words like these addressed\nThe brave \u015aatrughna and the rest:\n\u201cThis is the place, I little doubt,\nWhich Bharadv\u00e1ja pointed out,\nNot far from where we stand must be\nThe woodland stream, Mand\u00e1kin\u00ed.\nHere on the mountain\u2019s woody side\nRoam elephants in tusked pride,\nAnd ever with a roar and cry\nEach other, as they meet, defy.\nAnd see those smoke-wreaths thick and dark:\nThe presence of the flame they mark,\nWhich hermits in the forest strive\nBy every art to keep alive.\nO happy me! my task is done,\nAnd I shall look on Raghu\u2019s son,\nLike some great saint, who loves to treat\nHis elders with all reverence meet.\u201d\n\n  Thus Bharat reached that forest rill,\nThus roamed on Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill;\nThen pity in his breast awoke,\nAnd to his friends the hero spoke:\n\u201cWoe, woe upon my life and birth!\nThe prince of men, the lord of earth\nHas sought the lonely wood to dwell\nSequestered in a hermit\u2019s cell.\nThrough me, through me these sorrows fall\nOn him the splendid lord of all:\nThrough me resigning earthly bliss\nHe hides him in a home like this.\nNow will I, by the world abhorred,\nFall at the dear feet of my lord,\nAnd at fair S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s too, to win\nHis pardon for my heinous sin.\u201d\n\n  As thus he sadly mourned and sighed,\nThe son of Da\u015baratha spied\nA bower of leafy branches made,\nSacred and lovely in the shade,\nOf fair proportions large and tall,\nWell roofed with boughs of palm, and S\u00e1l,\nArranged in order due o\u2019erhead\nLike grass upon an altar spread.\nTwo glorious bows were gleaming there,\nLike Indra\u2019s(377) in the rainy air,\nTerror of foemen, backed with gold,\nMeet for the mightiest hand to hold:\nAnd quivered arrows cast a blaze\nBright gleaming like the Day-God\u2019s rays:\nThus serpents with their eyes aglow\nAdorn their capital below.(378)\nGreat swords adorned the cottage, laid\nEach in a case of gold brocade;\nThere hung the trusty shields, whereon\nWith purest gold the bosses shone.\nThe brace to bind the bowman\u2019s arm,\nThe glove to shield his hand from harm,\nA lustre to the cottage lent\nFrom many a golden ornament:\nSafe was the cot from fear of men\nAs from wild beasts the lion\u2019s den.\nThe fire upon the altar burned,\nThat to the north and east was turned.\nBharat his eager glances bent\nAnd gazed within the cot intent;\nIn deerskin dress, with matted hair,\nR\u00e1ma his chief was sitting there:\nWith lion-shoulders broad and strong,\nWith lotus eyes, arms thick and long.\nThe righteous sovereign, who should be\nLord paramount from sea to sea,\nHigh-minded, born to lofty fate,\nLike Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self supremely great;\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 by his side, and her,\nFair S\u00edt\u00e1, for his minister.\nAnd Bharat gazing, overcome\nBy sorrow for a while was dumb,\nThen, yielding to his woe, he ran\nTo R\u00e1ma and with sobs began:\n\u201cHe who a royal seat should fill\nWith subjects round to do his will,\nMy elder brother,\u2014see him here,\nWith silvan creatures waiting near.\nThe high-souled hero, wont to wear\nThe costliest robes exceeding fair,\nNow banished, in a deerskin dress,\nHere keeps the path of righteousness.\nHow brooks the son of Raghu now\nThe matted locks which load his brow,\nAround whose princely head were twined\nSweet blossoms of the rarest kind?\nThe prince whose merits grew, acquired\nBy rites performed as he desired,\nWould now a store of merit gain\nBought by his body\u2019s toil and pain.\nThose limbs to which pure sandal lent\nThe freshness of its fragrant scent,\nExposed to sun, and dust, and rain,\nAre now defiled with many a stain.\nAnd I the wretched cause why this\nFalls on the prince whose right is bliss!\nAh me, that ever I was born\nTo be the people\u2019s hate and scorn!\u201d\n\n  Thus Bharat cried: of anguish sprung,\nGreat drops upon his forehead hung.\nHe fell o\u2019erpowered\u2014his grief was such\u2014\nEre he his brother\u2019s feet could touch.\nAs on the glorious prince he gazed\nIn vain his broken voice he raised:\n\u201cDear lord\u201d\u2014through tears and sobbing came,\nThe only words his lips could frame.\nAnd brave \u015aatrughna wept aloud,\nAs low at R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet he bowed.\nThen R\u00e1ma, while his tears ran fast,\nHis arms around his brothers cast.\nGuha, Sumantra came to meet\nThe princes in their wild retreat.\n  Vrihaspati and \u015aukra bright\n    Their greeting thus rejoice to pay\n  To the dear Lord who brings the night,\n    And the great God who rules the day.\n  Then wept the dwellers of the shade,\n    Whose eyes the princes, meet to ride\n  On mighty elephants, surveyed;\n    And cast all thought of joy aside.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CI. Bharata Questioned.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma gazed, and scarcely knew\nBharat so worn and changed in hue.\nHe raised him, kissed him on the head,\nEmbraced him, and thus kindly said:\n\u201cWhere was thy father, brother dear,\nThat thou art come to seek me here?\nUnmeet, if he be living yet,\nThy feet within the wood to set.\nI pray thee now the cause declare\nWhy thou hast left the kingdom there,\nWith matted locks and deerskin dress\nTo roam the distant wilderness.\u201d\n\n  Thus questioned by the prince, at length\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s son regained his strength,\nAnd hand to hand in reverence laid,\nTo R\u00e1ma thus his answer made:\n\u201cThe great-armed monarch, O my lord,\nHas dared to do a thing abhorred,\nLeft us, and grieving for his son,\nA home among the Gods has won.\nMy mother Queen Kaikey\u00ed gave\nThe order to the king her slave,\nAnd at the bidding of the dame\nHe wrought the sin which mars his fame.\nAthirst for sway, her hopes are crossed,\nShe mourns her son, her husband lost,\nAnd through her impious crime will go\nFor punishment to hell below.\nNow O my lord, forgive me all;\nBe gracious to thy lowly thrall:\nAnointed king, accept to-day\nLike Indra\u2019s self, the royal sway.\nBe gracious, Prince, to lord and peer,\nAnd widowed queens who seek thee here\nAccept the kingdom thine by right,\nAnd so thy faithful friends delight.\nLet the broad land no longer be\nAll widowed and forlorn of thee:\nLet the full moon of autumn reign\nTriumphant o\u2019er the night again.\nThese lords and I before thee bend:\nO R\u00e1ma, to our prayer attend.\nO do not thou this grace deny:\nThy brother, pupil, slave am I.\nLook on this venerable ring,\nAdvisers of our sire the king,\nFrom age to age so honoured: thou\nShouldst grant their supplication now.\u201d\n\n  As weeping thus the hero prayed,\nHis head at R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet he laid.\nLike a mad elephant he sighed:\nAnd R\u00e1ma gazed and thus replied:\n\u201cHow, brother, can a man of worth,\nTrue to his vows, of noble birth\u2014\nA man like me, commit a sin\nThe lordship of the land to win?\nNo slightest shade of fault I see,\nO tamer of thy foes, in thee.\nBut ne\u2019er shouldst thou in childish thought\nThe queen thy mother blame in aught.\nO brother wise and sinless, know\nThe sacred laws would have it so,\nThat from good wife and son require\nObedience to their lord and sire.\nAnd we are all the king\u2019s, for thus\nThe virtuous ever reckon us:\nYea brother, be it known to thee,\nHis wives, and sons, and pupils we.\nHis is the right, if he deem fit,\nTo bid me, throned as monarch, sit,\nOr in a coat of bark expel,\nAnd deerskin, in the wood to dwell.\nAnd O remember, best of all\nWho act as claims of duty call,\nAs to a virtuous sire is due,\nSuch honour claims a mother too.\nSo they whose lives have ever been\nBy duty led, the king and queen,\nSaid, \u201cR\u00e1ma, seek the forest shade:\u201d\nAnd I (what could I else?) obeyed.\nThou must the royal power retain,\nAnd o\u2019er the famed Ayodhy\u00e1 reign:\nI dressed in bark my days will spend\nWhere Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s forest wilds extend.\nSo Da\u015baratha spoke, our king,\nHis share to each apportioning\nBefore his honoured servants\u2019 eyes:\nThen, heir of bliss, he sought the skies.\nThe righteous monarch\u2019s honoured will,\nWhom all revered, must guide thee still,\nAnd thou must still enjoy the share\nAssigned thee by our father\u2019s care.\nSo I till twice seven years are spent\nWill roam this wood in banishment,\nContented with the lot which he,\nMy high-souled sire, has given me.\nThe charge the monarch gave, endeared\nTo all mankind, by all revered,\n  Peer of the Lord Supreme,\nFar better, richer far in gain\nOf every blessing than to reign\n  O\u2019er all the worlds I deem.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CII. Bharat\u2019s Tidings.\n\n\nHe spoke: and Bharat thus replied:\n\u201cIf, false to every claim beside,\nI ne\u2019er in kingly duties fail,\nWhat will my royal life avail?\nStill should the custom be observed,\nFrom which our line has never swerved,\nWhich to the younger son ne\u2019er gives\nThe kingdom while the elder lives.\nNow to Ayodhy\u00e1 rich and fair\nWith me, O Raghu\u2019s son, repair,\nAnd to protect and gladden all\nOur house, thyself as king install.\nA king the world\u2019s opinion deems\nA man: to me a God he seems,\nWhose life in virtuous thoughts and deeds\nThe lives of other men exceeds.\nWhen I in distant Kekaya stayed,\nAnd thou hadst sought the forest shade,\nOur father died, the saints\u2019 delight,\nSo constant in each holy rite.\nScarce with thy wife and Lakshma\u1e47 thou\nHadst journeyed forth to keep the vow,\nWhen mourning for his son, forspent,\nTo heavenly rest the monarch went.\nThen up, O lord of men, away!\nHis funeral rites of water pay:\nI and \u015aatrughna, ere we came,\nNeglected not the sacred claim.\nBut in the spirit-world, they say,\nThat gift alone is fresh for aye\nWhich best beloved hands have poured;\nAnd thou his dearest art, my lord.\nFor thee he longed, for thee he grieved,\n  His every thought on thee was bent,\nAnd crushed by woe, of thee bereaved,\n  He thought of thee as hence he went.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CIII. The Funeral Libation.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma heard from Bharat each\nDark sorrow of his mournful speech,\nAnd tidings of his father dead,\nHis spirits fell, his senses fled.\nFor the sad words his brother spoke\nStruck on him like a thunder stroke,\nFierce as the bolt which Indra throws,\nThe victor of his Daitya foes.\nRaising his arms in anguish, he,\nAs when the woodman hews a tree\nWith its fair flowery branches crowned,\nFainted and fell upon the ground.\nLord of the earth to earth he sank,\nHelpless, as when a towering bank\nWith sudden ruin buries deep\nAn elephant who lay asleep.\nThen swift his wife and brothers flew,\nAnd water, weeping, o\u2019er him threw.\nAs slowly sense and strength he gained,\nFast from his eyes the tears he rained,\nAnd then in accents sad and weak\nKakutstha\u2019s son began to speak,\nAnd mourning for the monarch dead,\nWith righteous words to Bharat said:\n\u201cWhat calls me home, when he, alas,\nHas gone the way which all must pass?\nOf him, the best of kings bereft\nWhat guardian has Ayodhy\u00e1 left?\nHow may I please his spirit? how\nDelight the high-souled monarch now,\nWho wept for me and went above\nBy me ungraced with mourning love?\nAh, happy brothers! you have paid\nDue offerings to his parting shade.\nE\u2019en when my banishment is o\u2019er,\nBack to my home I go no more,\nTo look upon the widowed state\nReft of her king, disconsolate.\nE\u2019en then, O tamer of the foe,\nIf to Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town I go,\nWho will direct me as of old,\nNow other worlds our father hold?\nFrom whom, my brother, shall I hear\nThose words which ever charmed mine ear\nAnd filled my bosom with delight\nWhene\u2019er he saw me act aright?\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spoke: then nearer came\nAnd looking on his moonbright dame,\n\u201cS\u00edt\u00e1, the king is gone,\u201d he said:\n\u201cAnd Lakshma\u1e47, know thy sire is dead,\nAnd with the Gods on high enrolled:\nThis mournful news has Bharat told.\u201d\nHe spoke: the noble youths with sighs\nRained down the torrents from their eyes.\nAnd then the brothers of the chief\nWith words of comfort soothed his grief:\n\u201cNow to the king our sire who swayed\nThe earth be due libations paid.\u201d\nSoon as the monarch\u2019s fate she knew,\nSharp pangs of grief smote S\u00edt\u00e1 through:\nNor could she look upon her lord\nWith eyes from which the torrents poured.\nAnd R\u00e1ma strove with tender care\nTo soothe the weeping dame\u2019s despair,\nAnd then, with piercing woe distressed,\nThe mournful Lakshma\u1e47 thus addressed:\n\u201cBrother, I pray thee bring for me\nThe pressed fruit of the Ingud\u00ed,\nAnd a bark mantle fresh and new,\nThat I may pay this offering due.\nFirst of the three shall S\u00edt\u00e1 go,\nNext thou, and I the last: for so\nMoves the funereal pomp of woe.\u201d(379)\n\n  Sumantra of the noble mind,\nGentle and modest, meek and kind,\nWho, follower of each princely youth,\nTo R\u00e1ma clung with constant truth,\nNow with the royal brothers\u2019 aid\nThe grief of R\u00e1ma soothed and stayed,\nAnd lent his arm his lord to guide\nDown to the river\u2019s holy side.\nThat lovely stream the heroes found,\nWith woods that ever blossomed crowned,\nAnd there in bitter sorrow bent\nTheir footsteps down the fair descent.\nThen where the stream that swiftly flowed\nA pure pellucid shallow showed,\nThe funeral drops they duly shed,\nAnd \u201cFather, this be thine,\u201d they said.\nBut he, the lord who ruled the land,\nFilled from the stream his hollowed hand,\nAnd turning to the southern side\nStretched out his arm and weeping cried:\n\u201cThis sacred water clear and pure,\nAn offering which shall aye endure\nTo thee, O lord of kings, I give:\nAccept it where the spirits live!\u201d\n\n  Then, when the solemn rite was o\u2019er,\nCame R\u00e1ma to the river shore,\nAnd offered, with his brothers\u2019 aid,\nFresh tribute to his father\u2019s shade.\nWith jujube fruit he mixed the seed\nOf Ingud\u00eds from moisture freed,\nAnd placed it on a spot o\u2019erspread\nWith sacred grass, and weeping said:\n\u201cEnjoy, great King, the cake which we\nThy children eat and offer thee!\nFor ne\u2019er do blessed Gods refuse\nTo share the food which mortals use.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma turned him to retrace\nThe path that brought him to the place,\nAnd up the mountain\u2019s pleasant side\nWhere lovely lawns lay fair, he hied.\nSoon as his cottage door he gained\nHis brothers to his breast he strained.\nFrom them and S\u00edt\u00e1 in their woes\nSo loud the cry of weeping rose,\nThat like the roar of lions round\nThe mountain rolled the echoing sound.\nAnd Bharat\u2019s army shook with fear\nThe weeping of the chiefs to hear.\n\u201cBharat,\u201d the soldiers cried, \u201c\u2019tis plain,\nHis brother R\u00e1ma meets again,\nAnd with these cries that round us ring\nThey sorrow for their sire the king.\u201d\nThen leaving car and wain behind,\nOne eager thought in every mind,\nSwift toward the weeping, every man,\nAs each could find a passage, ran.\nSome thither bent their eager course\nWith car, and elephant, and horse,\nAnd youthful captains on their feet\nWith longing sped their lord to meet,\nAs though the new-come prince had been\nAn exile for long years unseen.\nEarth beaten in their frantic zeal\nBy clattering hoof and rumbling wheel,\nSent forth a deafening noise as loud\nAs heaven when black with many a cloud.\nThen, with their consorts gathered near,\nWild elephants in sudden fear\nRushed to a distant wood, and shed\nAn odour round them as they fled.\nAnd every silvan thing that dwelt\nWithin those shades the terror felt,\nDeer, lion, tiger, boar and roe,\nBison, wild-cow, and buffalo.\nAnd when the tumult wild they heard,\nWith trembling pinions flew each bird,\nFrom tree, from thicket, and from lake,\nSwan, ko\u00efl, curlew, crane, and drake.\nWith men the ground was overspread,\nWith startled birds the sky o\u2019erhead.\nThen on his sacrificial ground\nThe sinless, glorious chief was found.\nLoading with curses deep and loud\nThe hump-back and the queen, the crowd\nWhose cheeks were wet, whose eyes were dim,\nIn fond affection ran to him.\nWhile the big tears their eyes bedewed,\nHe looked upon the multitude,\nAnd then as sire and mother do,\nHis arms about his loved ones threw.\n  Some to his feet with reverence pressed,\n    Some in his arms he strained:\n  Each friend, with kindly words addressed,\n    Due share of honour gained.\n  Then, by their mighty woe o\u2019ercome,\n    The weeping heroes\u2019 cry\n  Filled, like the roar of many a drum,\n    Hill, cavern, earth, and sky.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CIV. The Meeting With The Queens.\n\n\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha with his soul athirst\nTo look again on R\u00e1ma, first\nIn line the royal widows placed,\nAnd then the way behind them traced.\nThe ladies moving, faint and slow,\nSaw the fair stream before them flow,\nAnd by the bank their steps were led\nWhich the two brothers visited.\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 with her faded cheek\nAnd weeping eyes began to speak,\nAnd thus in mournful tones addressed\nThe queen Sumitr\u00e1 and the rest:\n\u201cSee in the wood the bank\u2019s descent,\nWhich the two orphan youths frequent,\nWhose noble spirits never fall,\nThough woes surround them, reft of all.\nThy son with love that never tires\nDraws water hence which mine requires.\nThis day, for lowly toil unfit,\nHis pious task thy son should quit.\u201d\n\n  As on the long-eyed lady strayed,\nOn holy grass, whose points were laid\nDirected to the southern sky,\nThe funeral offering met her eye.\nWhen R\u00e1ma\u2019s humble gift she spied\nThus to the queens Kau\u015baly\u00e1 cried:\n\u201cThe gift of R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand behold,\nHis tribute to the king high-souled,\nOffered to him, as texts require,\nLord of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line, his sire!\nNot such I deem the funeral food\nOf kings with godlike might endued.\nCan he who knew all pleasures, he\nWho ruled the earth from sea to sea,\nThe mighty lord of monarchs, feed\nOn Ingud\u00ed\u2019s extracted seed?\nIn all the world there cannot be\nA woe, I ween, more sad to see,\nThan that my glorious son should make\nHis funeral gift of such a cake.\nThe ancient text I oft have heard\nThis day is true in every word:\n\u201cNe\u2019er do the blessed Gods refuse\nTo eat the food their children use.\u2019 \u201d\n\n  The ladies soothed the weeping dame:\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s hermitage they came,\nAnd there the hero met their eyes\nLike a God fallen from the skies.\nHim joyless, reft of all, they viewed,\nAnd tears their mournful eyes bedewed.\nThe truthful hero left his seat,\nAnd clasped the ladies\u2019 lotus feet,\nAnd they with soft hands brushed away\nThe dust that on his shoulders lay.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47, when he saw each queen\nWith weeping eyes and troubled mien,\nNear to the royal ladies drew\nAnd paid them gentle reverence too.\nHe, Da\u015baratha\u2019s offspring, signed\nThe heir of bliss by Fortune kind,\nReceived from every dame no less\nEach mark of love and tenderness.\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 came and bent before\nThe widows, while her eyes ran o\u2019er,\nAnd pressed their feet with many a tear.\nThey when they saw the lady dear\nPale, worn with dwelling in the wild,\nEmbraced her as a darling child:\n\u201cDaughter of royal Janak, bride\nOf Da\u015baratha\u2019s son,\u201d they cried,\n\u201cHow couldst thou, offspring of a king,\nEndure this woe and suffering\nIn the wild forest? When I trace\nEach sign of trouble on thy face\u2014\nThat lotus which the sun has dried,\nThat lily by the tempest tried,\nThat gold whereon the dust is spread,\nThat moon whence all the light is fled\u2014\nSorrow assails my heart, alas!\nAs fire consumes the wood and grass.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, as she spoke distressed,\nThe feet of Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha pressed,\n  Touched them with reverential love,\n    Then near him took his seat:\n  Thus Indra clasps in realms above\n    The Heavenly Teacher\u2019s(380) feet.\n  Then with each counsellor and peer,\n    Bharat of duteous mind,\n  With citizens and captains near,\n    Sat humbly down behind.\n  When with his hands to him upraised,\n    In devotee\u2019s attire,\n  Bharat upon his brother gazed\n    Whose glory shone like fire,\n  As when the pure Mahendra bends\n    To the great Lord of Life,\n  Among his noble crowd of friends\n    This anxious thought was rife:\n  \u201cWhat words to Raghu\u2019s son to-day\n    Will royal Bharat speak,\n  Whose heart has been so prompt to pay\n    Obeisance fond and meek?\u201d\n  Then steadfast R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47 wise,\n    Bharat for truth renowned,\nShone like three fires that heavenward rise\n  With holy priests around.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CV. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nA while they sat, each lip compressed,\nThen Bharat thus his chief addressed:\n\u201cMy mother here was made content;\nTo me was given the government.\nThis now, my lord, I yield to thee:\nEnjoy it, from all trouble free.\nLike a great bridge the floods have rent,\nImpetuous in their wild descent,\nAll other hands but thine in vain\nWould strive the burthen to maintain.\nIn vain the ass with steeds would vie,\nWith T\u00e1rkshya,(381) birds that wing the sky;\nSo, lord of men, my power is slight\nTo rival thine imperial might.\nGreat joys his happy days attend\nOn whom the hopes of men depend,\nBut wretched is the life he leads\nWho still the aid of others needs.\nAnd if the seed a man has sown,\nWith care and kindly nurture grown,\nRear its huge trunk and spring in time\nToo bulky for a dwarf to climb,\nYet, with perpetual blossom gay,\nNo fruit upon its boughs display,\nNe\u2019er can that tree, thus nursed in vain,\nApproval of the virtuous gain.\nThe simile is meant to be\nApplied, O mighty-armed, to thee,\nBecause, our lord and leader, thou\nProtectest not thy people now.\nO, be the longing wish fulfilled\nOf every chief of house and guild,\nTo see again their sun-bright lord\nVictorious to his realm restored!\nAs thou returnest through the crowd\nLet roars of elephants be loud.\nAnd each fair woman lift her voice\nAnd in her new-found king rejoice.\u201d\n\n  The people all with longing moved,\nThe words that Bharat spoke approved,\nAnd crowding near to R\u00e1ma pressed\nThe hero with the same request.\nThe steadfast R\u00e1ma, when he viewed\nHis glorious brother\u2019s mournful mood,\nWith each ambitious thought controlled,\nThus the lamenting prince consoled:\n\u201cI cannot do the things I will,\nFor R\u00e1ma is but mortal still.\nFate with supreme, resistless law\nThis way and that its slave will draw,\nAll gathered heaps must waste away,\nAll lofty lore and powers decay.\nDeath is the end of life, and all,\nNow firmly joined, apart must fall.\nOne fear the ripened fruit must know,\nTo fall upon the earth below;\nSo every man who draws his breath\nMust fear inevitable death.\nThe pillared mansion, high, compact,\nMust fall by Time\u2019s strong hand attacked;\nSo mortal men, the gradual prey\nOf old and ruthless death, decay.\nThe night that flies no more returns:\nYamun\u00e1 for the Ocean yearns:\nSwift her impetuous waters flee,\nBut roll not backward from the sea.\nThe days and nights pass swiftly by\nAnd steal our moments as they fly,\nE\u2019en as the sun\u2019s unpitying rays\nDrink up the floods in summer blaze.\nThen for thyself lament and leave\nFor death of other men to grieve,\nFor if thou go or if thou stay,\nThy life is shorter day by day.\nDeath travels with us; death attends\nOur steps until our journey ends,\nDeath, when the traveller wins the goal,\nReturns with the returning soul.\nThe flowing hair grows white and thin,\nAnd wrinkles mark the altered skin.\nThe ills of age man\u2019s strength assail:\nAh, what can mortal power avail?\nMen joy to see the sun arise,\nThey watch him set with joyful eyes:\nBut ne\u2019er reflect, too blind to see,\nHow fast their own brief moments flee.\nWith lovely change for ever new\nThe seasons\u2019 sweet return they view,\nNor think with heedless hearts the while\nThat lives decay as seasons smile.\nAs haply on the boundless main\nMeet drifting logs and part again,\nSo wives and children, friends and gold,\nOurs for a little time we hold:\nSoon by resistless laws of fate\nTo meet no more we separate.\nIn all this changing world not one\nThe common lot of all can shun:\nThen why with useless tears deplore\nThe dead whom tears can bring no more?\nAs one might stand upon the way\nAnd to a troop of travellers say:\n\u201cIf ye allow it, sirs, I too\nWill travel on the road with you:\u201d\nSo why should mortal man lament\nWhen on that path his feet are bent\nWhich all men living needs must tread,\nWhere sire and ancestors have led?\nLife flies as torrents downward fall\nSpeeding away without recall,\nSo virtue should our thoughts engage,\nFor bliss(382) is mortals\u2019 heritage.\nBy ceaseless care and earnest zeal\nFor servants and for people\u2019s weal,\nBy gifts, by duty nobly done,\nOur glorious sire the skies has won.\nOur lord the king, o\u2019er earth who reigned,\nA blissful home in heaven has gained\nBy wealth in ample largess spent,\nAnd many a rite magnificent:\nWith constant joy from first to last\nA long and noble life he passed,\nPraised by the good, no tears should dim\nOur eyes, O brother dear, for him.\nHis human body, worn and tried\nBy length of days, he cast aside,\nAnd gained the godlike bliss to stray\nIn Brahm\u00e1\u2019s heavenly home for aye.\nFor such the wise as we are, deep\nIn Veda lore, should never weep.\nThose who are firm and ever wise\nSpurn vain lament and idle sighs.\nBe self-possessed: thy grief restrain:\nGo, in that city dwell again.\nReturn, O best of men, and be\nObedient to our sire\u2019s decree,\nWhile I with every care fulfil\nOur holy father\u2019s righteous will,\nObserving in the lonely wood\nHis charge approved by all the good.\u201d\n  Thus R\u00e1ma of the lofty mind\n    To Bharat spoke his righteous speech,\n  By every argument designed\n    Obedience to his sire to teach.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CVI. Bharat\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nGood Bharat, by the river side,\nTo virtuous R\u00e1ma\u2019s speech replied,\nAnd thus with varied lore addressed\nThe prince, while nobles round him pressed:\n\u201cIn all this world whom e\u2019er can we\nFind equal, scourge of foes, to thee?\nNo ill upon thy bosom weighs,\nNo thoughts of joy thy spirit raise.\nApproved art thou of sages old,\nTo whom thy doubts are ever told.\nAlike in death and life, to thee\nThe same to be and not to be.\nThe man who such a soul can gain\nCan ne\u2019er be crushed by woe or pain.\nPure as the Gods, high-minded, wise,\nConcealed from thee no secret lies.\nSuch glorious gifts are all thine own,\nAnd birth and death to thee are known,\nThat ill can ne\u2019er thy soul depress\nWith all-subduing bitterness.\nO let my prayer, dear brother, win\nThy pardon for my mother\u2019s sin.\nWrought for my sake who willed it not\nWhen absent in a distant spot.\nDuty alone with binding chains\nThe vengeance due to crime restrains,\nOr on the sinner I should lift\nMy hand in retribution swift.\nCan I who know the right, and spring\nFrom Da\u015baratha, purest king\u2014\nCan I commit a heinous crime,\nAbhorred by all through endless time?\nThe aged king I dare not blame,\nWho died so rich in holy fame,\nMy honoured sire, my parted lord,\nE\u2019en as a present God adored.\nYet who in lore of duty skilled\nSo foul a crime has ever willed,\nAnd dared defy both gain and right\nTo gratify a woman\u2019s spite?\nWhen death draws near, so people say,\nThe sense of creatures dies away;\nAnd he has proved the ancient saw\nBy acting thus in spite of law.\nBut O my honoured lord, be kind,\nDismiss the trespass from thy mind,\nThe sin the king committed, led\nBy haste, his consort\u2019s wrath, and dread.\nFor he who veils his sire\u2019s offence\nWith tender care and reverence\u2014\nHis sons approved by all shall live:\nNot so their fate who ne\u2019er forgive.\nBe thou, my lord, the noble son,\nAnd the vile deed my sire has done,\nAbhorred by all the virtuous, ne\u2019er\nResent, lest thou the guilt too share.\nPreserve us, for on thee we call,\nOur sire, Kaikey\u00ed, me and all\nThy citizens, thy kith and kin;\nPreserve us and reverse the sin.\nTo live in woods a devotee\nCan scarce with royal tasks agree,\nNor can the hermit\u2019s matted hair\nSuit fitly with a ruler\u2019s care.\nDo not, my brother, do not still\nPursue this life that suits thee ill.\nMid duties of a king we count\nHis consecration paramount,\nThat he with ready heart and hand\nMay keep his people and his land.\nWhat Warrior born to royal sway\nFrom certain good would turn away,\nA doubtful duty to pursue,\nThat mocks him with the distant view?\nThou wouldst to duty cleave, and gain\nThe meed that follows toil and pain.\nIn thy great task no labour spare:\nRule the four castes with justest care.\nMid all the four, the wise prefer\nThe order of the householder:(383)\nCanst thou, whose thoughts to duty cleave,\nThe best of all the orders leave?\nMy better thou in lore divine,\nMy birth, my sense must yield to thine:\nWhile thou, my lord, art here to reign,\nHow shall my hands the rule maintain?\nO faithful lover of the right,\nTake with thy friends the royal might,\nLet thy sires\u2019 realm, from trouble free,\nObey her rightful king in thee.\nHere let the priests and lords of state\nOur monarch duly consecrate,\nWith prayer and holy verses blessed\nBy saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha and the rest.\nAnointed king by us, again\nSeek fair Ayodhy\u00e1, there to reign,\nAnd like imperial Indra girt\nBy Gods of Storm, thy might assert.\nFrom the three debts(384) acquittance earn,\nAnd with thy wrath the wicked burn,\nO\u2019er all of us thy rule extend,\nAnd cheer with boons each faithful friend.\nLet thine enthronement, lord, this day\nMake all thy lovers glad and gay,\nAnd let all those who hate thee flee\nTo the ten winds for fear of thee.\nDear lord, my mother\u2019s words of hate\nWith thy sweet virtues expiate,\nAnd from the stain of folly clear\nThe father whom we both revere.\nBrother, to me compassion show,\nI pray thee with my head bent low,\nAnd to these friends who on thee call,\u2014\nAs the Great Father pities all.\nBut if my tears and prayers be vain,\nAnd thou in woods wilt still remain,\nI will with thee my path pursue\nAnd make my home in forests too.\u201d\n\n  Thus Bharat strove to bend his will\n  With suppliant head, but he,\nEarth\u2019s lord, inexorable still\n  Would keep his sire\u2019s decree.\nThe firmness of the noble chief\n  The wondering people moved,\nAnd rapture mingling with their grief,\n  All wept and all approved.\n\u201cHow firm his steadfast will,\u201d they cried,\n  \u201cWho Keeps his promise thus!\nAh, to Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town,\u201d they sighed,\n  \u201cHe comes not back with us.\u201d\nThe holy priest, the swains who tilled\n  The earth, the sons of trade,\nAnd e\u2019en the mournful queens were filled\n  With joy as Bharat prayed,\nAnd bent their heads, then weeping stilled\n  A while, his prayer to aid.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CVII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThus, by his friends encompassed round,\nHe spoke, and R\u00e1ma, far renowned,\nTo his dear brother thus replied,\nWhom holy rites had purified:\n\u201cO thou whom Queen Kaikey\u00ed bare\nThe best of kings, thy words are fair,\nOur royal father, when of yore\nHe wed her, to her father swore\nThe best of kingdoms to confer,\nA noble dowry meet for her;\nThen, grateful, on the deadly day\nOf heavenly Gods\u2019 and demons\u2019 fray,\nA future boon on her bestowed\nTo whose sweet care his life he owed.\nShe to his mind that promise brought,\nAnd then the best of kings besought\nTo bid me to the forest flee,\nAnd give the rule, O Prince, to thee.\nThus bound by oath, the king our lord\nGave her those boons of free accord,\nAnd bade me, O thou chief of men,\nLive in the woods four years and ten.\nI to this lonely wood have hied\nWith faithful Lakshma\u1e47 by my side,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 by no tears deterred,\nResolved to keep my father\u2019s word.\nAnd thou, my noble brother, too\nShouldst keep our father\u2019s promise true:\nAnointed ruler of the state\nMaintain his word inviolate.\nFrom his great debt, dear brother, free\nOur lord the king for love of me,\nThy mother\u2019s breast with joy inspire,\nAnd from all woe preserve thy sire.\n\u2019Tis said, near Gay\u00e1\u2019s holy town(385)\nGay\u00e1, great saint of high renown,\nThis text recited when he paid\nDue rites to each ancestral shade:\n  \u201cA son is born his sire to free\n    From Put\u2019s infernal pains:\n  Hence, saviour of his father, he\n    The name of Puttra gains.\u201d(386)\nThus numerous sons are sought by prayer,\nIn Scripture trained with graces fair,\nThat of the number one some day\nMay funeral rites at Gay\u00e1 pay.\nThe mighty saints who lived of old\nThis holy doctrine ever hold.\nThen, best of men, our sire release\nFrom pains of hell, and give him peace.\nNow Bharat, to Ayodhy\u00e1 speed,\nThe brave \u015aatrughna with thee lead,\nTake with thee all the twice-born men,\nAnd please each lord and citizen.\nI now, O King, without delay\nTo Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood will bend my way,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 and the Maithil dame\nWill follow still, our path the same.\n  Now, Bharat, lord of men be thou,\n    And o\u2019er Ayodhy\u00e1 reign:\n  The silvan world to me shall bow,\n    King of the wild domain.\n  Yea, let thy joyful steps be bent\n    To that fair town to-day,\n  And I as happy and content,\n    To Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood will stray.\n  The white umbrella o\u2019er thy brow\n    Its cooling shade shall throw:\n  I to the shadow of the bough\n    And leafy trees will go.\n  \u015aatrughna, for wise plans renowned,\n    Shall still on thee attend;\n  And Lakshma\u1e47, ever faithful found,\n    Be my familiar friend.\n  Let us his sons, O brother dear,\n    The path of right pursue,\n  And keep the king we all revere\n    Still to his promise true.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CVIII. J\u00e1v\u00e1li\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThus R\u00e1ma soothed his brother\u2019s grief:\nThen virtuous J\u00e1v\u00e1li, chief\nOf twice-born sages, thus replied\nIn words that virtue\u2019s law defied:\n\u201cHail, Raghu\u2019s princely son, dismiss\nA thought so weak and vain as this.\nCanst thou, with lofty heart endowed,\nThink with the dull ignoble crowd?\nFor what are ties of kindred? can\nOne profit by a brother man?\nAlone the babe first opes his eyes,\nAnd all alone at last he dies.\nThe man, I ween, has little sense\nWho looks with foolish reverence\nOn father\u2019s or on mother\u2019s name:\nIn others, none a right may claim.\nE\u2019en as a man may leave his home\nAnd to a distant village roam,\nThen from his lodging turn away\nAnd journey on the following day,\nSuch brief possession mortals hold\nIn sire and mother, house and gold,\nAnd never will the good and wise\nThe brief uncertain lodging prize.\nNor, best of men, shouldst thou disown\nThy sire\u2019s hereditary throne,\nAnd tread the rough and stony ground\nWhere hardship, danger, woes abound.\nCome, let Ayodhy\u00e1 rich and bright\nSee thee enthroned with every rite:\nHer tresses bound in single braid(387)\nShe waits thy coming long delayed.\nO come, thou royal Prince, and share\nThe kingly joys that wait thee there,\nAnd live in bliss transcending price\nAs Indra lives in Paradise.\nThe parted king is naught to thee,\nNor right in living man has he:\nThe king is one, thou, Prince of men,\nAnother art: be counselled then.\nThy royal sire, O chief, has sped\nOn the long path we all must tread.\nThe common lot of all is this,\nAnd thou in vain art robbed of bliss.\nFor those\u2014and only those\u2014I weep\nWho to the path of duty keep;\nFor here they suffer ceaseless woe,\nAnd dying to destruction go.\nWith pious care, each solemn day,\nWill men their funeral offerings pay:\nSee, how the useful food they waste:\nHe who is dead no more can taste.\nIf one is fed, his strength renewed\nWhene\u2019er his brother takes his food,\nThen offerings to the parted pay:\nScarce will they serve him on his way.\nBy crafty knaves these rules were framed,\nAnd to enforce men\u2019s gifts proclaimed:\n\u201cGive, worship, lead a life austere,\nKeep lustral rites, quit pleasures here.\u201d\nThere is no future life: be wise,\nAnd do, O Prince, as I advise.\nEnjoy, my lord, the present bliss,\nAnd things unseen from thought dismiss.\nLet this advice thy bosom move,\nThe counsel sage which all approve;\nTo Bharat\u2019s earnest prayer incline,\nAnd take the rule so justly thine.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CIX. The Praises Of Truth.\n\n\nBy sage J\u00e1v\u00e1li thus addressed,\nR\u00e1ma of truthful hearts the best,\nWith perfect skill and wisdom high\nThus to his speech made fit reply:\n\u201cThy words that tempt to bliss are fair,\nBut virtue\u2019s garb they falsely wear.\nFor he from duty\u2019s path who strays\nTo wander in forbidden ways,\nAllured by doctrine false and vain,\nPraise from the good can never gain.\nTheir lives the true and boaster show,\nPure and impure, and high and low,\nElse were no mark to judge between\nStainless and stained and high and mean;\nThey to whose lot fair signs may fall\nWere but as they who lack them all,\nAnd those to virtuous thoughts inclined\nWere but as men of evil mind.\nIf in the sacred name of right\nI do this wrong in duty\u2019s spite;\nThe path of virtue meanly quit,\nAnd this polluting sin commit,\nWhat man who marks the bounds between\nVirtue and vice with insight keen,\nWould rank me high in after time\nStained with this soul destroying crime?\nWhither could I, the sinner, turn,\nHow hope a seat in heaven to earn,\nIf I my plighted promise break,\nAnd thus the righteous path forsake?\nThis world of ours is ever led\nTo walk the ways which others tread,\nAnd as their princes they behold,\nThe subjects too their lives will mould.\nThat truth and mercy still must be\nBeloved of kings, is Heaven\u2019s decree.\nUpheld by truth the monarch reigns,\nAnd truth the very world sustains.\nTruth evermore has been the love\nOf holy saints and Gods above,\nAnd he whose lips are truthful here\nWins after death the highest sphere.\nAs from a serpent\u2019s deadly tooth,\nWe shrink from him who scorns the truth.\nFor holy truth is root and spring\nOf justice and each holy thing,\nA might that every power transcends,\nLinked to high bliss that never ends.\nTruth is all virtue\u2019s surest base,\nSupreme in worth and first in place.\nOblations, gifts men offer here,\nVows, sacrifice, and rites austere,\nAnd Holy Writ, on truth depend:\nSo men must still that truth defend.\nTruth, only truth protects the land,\nBy truth unharmed our houses stand;\nNeglect of truth makes men distressed,\nAnd truth in highest heaven is blessed.\nThen how can I, rebellious, break\nCommandments which my father spake\u2014\nI ever true and faithful found,\nAnd by my word of honour bound?\nMy father\u2019s bridge of truth shall stand\nUnharmed by my destructive hand:\nNot folly, ignorance, or greed\nMy darkened soul shall thus mislead.\nHave we not heard that God and shade\nTurn from the hated offerings paid\nBy him whose false and fickle mind\nNo pledge can hold, no promise bind?\nTruth is all duty: as the soul,\nIt quickens and supports the whole.\nThe good respect this duty: hence\nIts sacred claims I reverence.\nThe Warrior\u2019s duty I despise\nThat seeks the wrong in virtue\u2019s guise:\nThose claims I shrink from, which the base,\nCruel, and covetous embrace.\nThe heart conceives the guilty thought,\nThen by the hand the sin is wrought,\nAnd with the pair is leagued a third,\nThe tongue that speaks the lying word.\nFortune and land and name and fame\nTo man\u2019s best care have right and claim;\nThe good will aye to truth adhere,\nAnd its high laws must men revere.\nBase were the deed thy lips would teach,\nApproved as best by subtle speech.\nShall I my plighted promise break,\nThat I these woods my home would make?\nShall I, as Bharat\u2019s words advise,\nMy father\u2019s solemn charge despise?\nFirm stands the oath which then before\nMy father\u2019s face I soothly swore,\nWhich Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s anxious ear\nRejoiced with highest joy to hear.\nStill in the wood will I remain,\nWith food prescribed my life sustain,\nAnd please with fruit and roots and flowers\nAncestral shades and heavenly powers.\nHere every sense contented, still\nHeeding the bounds of good and ill,\nMy settled course will I pursue,\nFirm in my faith and ever true.\nHere in this wild and far retreat\nWill I my noble task complete;\nAnd Fire and Wind and Moon shall be\nPartakers of its fruit with me.\nA hundred offerings duly wrought\nHis rank o\u2019er Gods for Indra bought,\nAnd mighty saints their heaven secured\nBy torturing years on earth endured.\u201d\nThat scoffing plea the hero spurned,\n  And thus he spake once more,\nChiding, the while his bosom burned,\n  J\u00e1v\u00e1li\u2019s impious lore:\n\u201cJustice, and courage ne\u2019er dismayed,\n  Pity for all distressed,\nTruth, loving honour duly paid\n  To Br\u00e1hman, God, and guest\u2014\nIn these, the true and virtuous say,\n  Should lives of men be passed:\nThey form the right and happy way\n  That leads to heaven at last.\nMy father\u2019s thoughtless act I chide\n  That gave thee honoured place,\nWhose soul, from virtue turned aside,\n  Is faithless, dark, and base.\nWe rank the Buddhist with the thief,(388)\n  And all the impious crew\nWho share his sinful disbelief,\n  And hate the right and true.\nHence never should wise kings who seek\n  To rule their people well,\nAdmit, before their face to speak,\n  The cursed infidel.\nBut twice-born men in days gone by,\n  Of other sort than thou,\nHave wrought good deeds, whose glories high\n  Are fresh among us now:\nThis world they conquered, nor in vain\n  They strove to win the skies:\nThe twice-born hence pure lives maintain,\n  And fires of worship rise.\nThose who in virtue\u2019s path delight,\n  And with the virtuous live,\u2014\nWhose flames of holy zeal are bright,\n  Whose hands are swift to give,\nWho injure none, and good and mild\n  In every grace excel,\nWhose lives by sin are undefiled,\n  We love and honour well.\u201d\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke in righteous rage\n  J\u00e1v\u00e1li\u2019s speech to chide,\nWhen thus again the virtuous sage\n  In truthful words replied:\n\u201cThe atheist\u2019s lore I use no more,\n  Not mine his impious creed:\nHis words and doctrine I abhor,\n  Assumed at time of need.\nE\u2019en as I rose to speak with thee,\n  The fit occasion came\nThat bade me use the atheist\u2019s plea\n  To turn thee from thine aim.\nThe atheist creed I disavow,\n  Unsay the words of sin,\nAnd use the faithful\u2019s language now\n  Thy favour, Prince, to win.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CX. The Sons Of Ikshv\u00e1ku.(389)\n\n\nThen spake Va\u015bish\u1e6dha who perceived\nThat R\u00e1ma\u2019s soul was wroth and grieved:\n\u201cWell knows the sage J\u00e1v\u00e1li all\nThe changes that the world befall;\nAnd but to lead thee to revoke\nThy purpose were the words he spoke.\nLord of the world, now hear from me\nHow first this world began to be.\nFirst water was, and naught beside;\nThere earth was formed that stretches wide.\nThen with the Gods from out the same\nThe Self-existent Brahm\u00e1 came.\nThen Brahm\u00e1(390) in a boar\u2019s disguise\nBade from the deep this earth arise;\nThen, with his sons of tranquil soul,\nHe made the world and framed the whole.\nFrom subtlest ether Brahm\u00e1 rose:\nNo end, no loss, no change he knows.\nA son had he, Mar\u00edchi styled,\nAnd Ka\u015byap was Mar\u00edchi\u2019s child.\nFrom him Vivasvat sprang: from him\nManu, whose fame shall ne\u2019er be dim.\nManu, who life to mortals gave,\nBegot Ikshv\u00e1ku good and brave:\nFirst of Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s kings was he,\nPride of her famous dynasty.\nFrom him the glorious Kukshi sprang,\nWhose fame through all the regions rang.\nRival of Kukshi\u2019s ancient fame,\nHis heir the great Vikukshi came.\nHis son was V\u00e1\u1e47a, lord of might,\nHis Anara\u1e47ya, strong in fight.\nNo famine marred his blissful reign,\nNo drought destroyed the kindly grain;\nAmid the sons of virtue chief,\nHis happy realm ne\u2019er held a thief,\nHis son was Prithu, glorious name,\nFrom him the wise Tri\u015banku came:\nEmbodied to the skies he went\nFor love of truth pre\u00ebminent.\nHe left a son renowned afar,\nKnown by the name of Dhundhum\u00e1r.\nHis son succeeding bore the name\nOf Yuvan\u00e1\u015bva dear to fame.\nHe passed away. Him followed then\nHis son M\u00e1ndh\u00e1t\u00e1, king of men.\nHis son was blest in high emprise,\nSusandhi, fortunate and wise.\nTwo noble sons had he, to wit\nDhruvasandhi and Prasenajit.\nBharat was Dhruvasandhi\u2019s son:\nHis glorious arm the conquest won,\nAgainst his son King Asit, rose\nIn fierce array his royal foes,\nHaihayas, T\u00e1lajanghas styled,\nAnd \u015aa\u015bivindhus fierce and wild.\nLong time he strove, but forced to yield\nFled from his kingdom and the field.\nThe wives he left had both conceived\u2014\nSo is the ancient tale believed:\u2014\nOne, of her rival\u2019s hopes afraid,\nFell poison in the viands laid.\nIt chanced that Chyavan, Bhrigu\u2019s child,\nHad wandered to the pathless wild\nWhere proud Him\u00e1laya\u2019s lovely height\nDetained him with a strange delight.\nThen came the other widowed queen\nWith lotus eyes and beauteous mien,\nLonging a noble son to bear,\nAnd wooed the saint with earnest prayer.\nWhen thus K\u00e1lind\u00ed, fairest dame\nWith reverent supplication came,\nTo her the holy sage replied:\n\u201cO royal lady, from thy side\nA glorious son shall spring ere long,\nRighteous and true and brave and strong;\nHe, scourge of foes and lofty-souled,\nHis ancient race shall still uphold.\u201d\n\n  Then round the sage the lady went,\nAnd bade farewell, most reverent.\nBack to her home she turned once more,\nAnd there her promised son she bore.\nBecause her rival mixed the bane\nTo render her conception vain,\nAnd her unripened fruit destroy,\nSagar she called her rescued boy.(391)\nHe, when he paid that solemn rite,(392)\nFilled living creatures with affright:\nObedient to his high decree\nHis countless sons dug out the sea.\nPrince Asamanj was Sagar\u2019s child:\nBut him with cruel sin defiled\nAnd loaded with the people\u2019s hate\nHis father banished from the state.\nTo Asamanj his consort bare\nBright An\u015bum\u00e1n his valiant heir.\nAn\u015bum\u00e1n\u2019s son, Dil\u00edpa famed,\nBegot a son Bhag\u00edrath named.\nFrom him renowned Kakutstha came:\nThou bearest still the lineal name.\nKakutstha\u2019s son was Raghu: thou\nArt styled the son of Raghu now.\nFrom him came Purush\u00e1dak bold,\nFierce hero of gigantic mould:\nKalm\u00e1shap\u00e1da\u2019s name he bore,\nBecause his feet were spotted o\u2019er.\n\u015aankhan his son, to manhood grown,\nDied sadly with his host o\u2019erthrown,\nBut ere he perished sprang from him\nSudar\u015ban fair in face and limb.\nFrom beautiful Sudar\u015ban came\nPrince Agnivar\u1e47a, bright as flame.\nHis son was \u015a\u00edghraga, for speed\nUnmatched; and Maru was his seed.\nPrasusruka was Maru\u2019s child:\nHis son was Ambar\u00edsha styled.\nNahush was Ambar\u00edsha\u2019s heir\nWith hand to strike and heart to dare.\nHis son was good N\u00e1bh\u00e1g, from youth\nRenowned for piety and truth.\nFrom great N\u00e1bh\u00e1g sprang children two\nAja and Suvrat pure and true.\nFrom Aja Da\u015baratha came,\nWhose virtuous life was free from blame.\nHis eldest son art thou: his throne,\nO famous R\u00e1ma, is thine own.\nAccept the sway so justly thine,\nAnd view the world with eyes benign.\nFor ever in Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race\nThe eldest takes his father\u2019s place,\nAnd while he lives no son beside\nAs lord and king is sanctified.\n  The rule by Raghu\u2019s children kept\n    Thou must not spurn to-day.\n  This realm of peerless wealth accept,\n    And like thy father sway.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXI. Counsel To Bharat.\n\n\nThus said Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, and again\nTo R\u00e1ma spake in duteous strain:\n\u201cAll men the light of life who see\nWith high respect should look on three:\nHigh honour ne\u2019er must be denied\nTo father, mother, holy guide.\nFirst to their sires their birth they owe,\nNursed with maternal love they grow:\nTheir holy guides fair knowledge teach:\nSo men should love and honour each.\nThy sire and thou have learned of me,\nThe sacred guide of him and thee,\nAnd if my word thou wilt obey\nThou still wilt keep the virtuous way.\nSee, with the chiefs of every guild\nAnd all thy friends, this place is filled:\nAll these, as duty bids, protect;\nSo still the righteous path respect.\nO, for thine aged mother feel,\nNor spurn the virtuous dame\u2019s appeal:\nObey, O Prince, thy mother dear,\nAnd still to virtue\u2019s path adhere.\nYield thou to Bharat\u2019s fond request,\nWith earnest supplication pressed,\nSo wilt thou to thyself be true,\nAnd faith and duty still pursue.\u201d\n\n  Thus by his saintly guide addressed\nWith pleas in sweetest tones expressed,\nThe lord of men in turn replied\nTo wise Va\u015bish\u1e6dha by his side:\n\u201cThe fondest son\u2019s observance ne\u2019er\nRepays the sire and mother\u2019s care:\nThe constant love that food provides,\nAnd dress, and every need besides:\nTheir pleasant words still soft and mild,\nTheir nurture of the helpless child:\nThe words which Da\u015baratha spake,\nMy king and sire, I ne\u2019er will break.\u201d\n\n  Then Bharat of the ample chest\nThe wise Sumantra thus addressed;\n\u201cBring sacred grass, O charioteer,\nAnd strew it on the level here.\nFor I will sit and watch his face\nUntil I win my brother\u2019s grace.\nLike a robbed Br\u00e1hman will I lie,(393)\nNor taste of food nor turn my eye,\nIn front of R\u00e1ma\u2019s leafy cot,\nAnd till he yield will leave him not.\u201d\n\n  When Bharat saw Sumantra\u2019s eye\nLooked up to R\u00e1ma for reply,\nThe Prince himself in eager haste\nThe sacred grass in order placed.\nHim great and mighty R\u00e1ma, best\nOf royal saints, in turn addressed:\n\u201cWhat, Bharat, have I done, that thou\nBesiegest me,(394) a suppliant now?\nThus streched, to force redress for wrongs\nTo men of Br\u00e1hman birth belongs,\nNot those upon whose kingly head\nThe consecrating drops are shed.\nUp, lord of men! arise, and quit\nThis fearful vow for thee unfit.\nGo, brother, seek Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town,\nFair city of supreme renown.\u201d\n\n  But Bharat, as his seat he took,\nCast all around an eager look:\n\u201cO people, join your prayers with mine,\nAnd so his stubborn heart incline.\u201d\n\n  And all the people answered thus:\n\u201cFull well is R\u00e1ma known to us.\nRight is the word he speaks and he\nIs faithful to his sire\u2019s decree:\nNor can we rashly venture now\nTo turn him from his purposed vow.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma spoke: \u201cO Bharat, heed\nThy virtuous friends, and mark their rede.\nMark well what I and these advise,\nAnd duty view with clearer eyes.\nThy hand on mine, O hero, place,\nTouch water, and thy sin efface.\u201d\n\n  Then Bharat rose: his hand he dipped,\nAnd purifying water sipped:\n\u201cEach citizen,\u201d he cried, \u201cgive ear,\nAttend, each counsellor and peer.\nMy mother planned, by me untaught,\nTo win the sway I never sought:\nNe\u2019er Raghu\u2019s son could I despise,\nIn duty\u2019s lore supremely wise.\nNow if obedience to our sire\nThis dwelling in the woods require,\nI, till the destined years be spent,\nWill dwell alone in banishment.\u201d\n\n  The virtuous R\u00e1ma, wonder-stirred,\nThe faithful speech of Bharat heard,\nAnd thus the hero\u2019s feelings found\nDue utterance, as he gazed around:\n\n  \u201cStill to my father\u2019s word I hold,\nWhate\u2019er he bought, or pledged, or sold:\nNe\u2019er shall his living promise be\nAnnulled by Bharat or by me.\nNot thus my task will I evade,\nMy exile on another laid:\nMost wise was Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s rede,\nAnd just and good my father\u2019s deed.\nDear Bharat\u2019s patient soul I know,\nHow reverence due he loves to show;\nIn him, high-souled and faithful found,\nMust each auspicious grace abound.\nWhen from the woods I turn again\nI with his aid shall nobly reign,\nWith one so good, of peerless worth,\nA glorious lord of happy earth.\nHer boon Kaikey\u00ed sought and won.\nI, as my father swore, have done:\nAnd O, do thou, my brother dear,\nThe monarch\u2019s name from falsehood clear.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXII. The Sandals.\n\n\nHigh wonder mingled with delight\nTook the great sages at the sight,\nThrilling their breasts who came to view\nThe meeting of the peerless two.\nThe saints and sages\u2019 holy train\nDeparted to their home again.\nAnd high each holy voice was raised,\nAnd thus the glorious brothers praised.\n\n  \u201cHigh fate is his, the sire of two\nMost virtuous souls, so brave and true:\nWith wonder and with joy intense\nOur ears have heard their conference.\u201d\nThen the great sages, longing all\nTo see the ten-necked tyrant(395) fall,\nTo Bharat, bravest of the brave,\nTheir salutary counsel gave:\n\n  \u201cO thou of lofty lineage born,\nWhom wisdom, conduct, fame adorn,\nThou for thy honoured father\u2019s sake\nShouldst R\u00e1ma\u2019s righteous counsel take.\nAll debts to Queen Kaikey\u00ed paid,\nThy sire his home in heaven has made,\nSo virtuous R\u00e1ma we would see\nFrom filial obligation free.\u201d\nThus gave each royal sage advice,\nHigh saint, and bard of Paradise;\nThen quickly vanishing from view\nEach to his proper home withdrew.\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s face his rapture showed,\nAnd his full heart with joy o\u2019erflowed,\nWhile, as the sages parted thence,\nHe paid his humble reverence.\n\n  Then Bharat shook in every limb\nAs suppliant thus he spake to him:\n\u201cThe duty of a king respect,\nHeld by our race in high respect:\nAnd O, thy gracious ear incline\nTo heed my mother\u2019s prayer and mine.\nThe mighty realm to rule and guard\nFor me alone is task too hard.\nNo power have I the love to gain\nOf noble, citizen, and swain.\nAll those who know thee, warrior, friend,\nOn thee their eager glances bend,\nAs labouring hinds who till the plain\nLook fondly for the Lord of Rain.\nO wisest Prince, thy realm secure,\nAnd make its firm foundations sure.\nKakutstha\u2019s son, thy mighty arm\nCan keep the nation free from harm.\u201d\nHe spoke, and fell in sorrow drowned\nAt R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet upon the ground,\nAnd there the hero sued and sighed,\nAnd \u201cHear me, Raghu\u2019s son,\u201d he cried.\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma raised him up, and pressed\nHis brother to his loving breast,\nAnd sweetly as a wild swan cried\nTo Bharat dark and lotus-eyed:\n\u201cSo just and true thy generous soul,\nThy hand may well this earth control:\nBut many a sage his aid will lend,\nWith counsellor, and peer, and friend:\nWith these advise: their counsel ask,\nAnd so perform thy arduous task.\nThe moon his beauty may forgo,\nThe cold forsake the Hills of Snow,\nAnd Ocean o\u2019er his banks may sweep,\nBut I my father\u2019s word will keep.\nNow whether love of thee or greed\nThy mother led to plan the deed,\nForth from thy breast the memory throw,\nAnd filial love and reverence show.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s son: again\nBharat replied in humble strain\nTo him who matched the sun in might\nAnd lovely as the young moon\u2019s light:\n\u201cPut, noble brother, I entreat,\nThese sandals on thy blessed feet:\nThese, lord of men, with gold bedecked,\nThe realm and people will protect.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, as his brother prayed\nBeneath his feet the sandals laid,\nAnd these with fond affection gave\nTo Bharat\u2019s hand, the good and brave.\nThen Bharat bowed his reverent head\nAnd thus again to R\u00e1ma said:\n\u201cThrough fourteen seasons will I wear\nThe hermit\u2019s dress and matted hair:\nWith fruit and roots my life sustain,\nAnd still beyond the realm remain,\nLonging for thee to come again.\nThe rule and all affairs of state\nI to these shoes will delegate.\nAnd if, O tamer of thy foes,\nWhen fourteen years have reached their close,\nI see thee not that day return,\nThe kindled fire my frame shall burn.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma to his bosom drew\nDear Bharat and \u015aatrughna too:\n\u201cBe never wroth,\u201d he cried, \u201cwith her,\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s guardian minister:\nThis, glory of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line,\nIs S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s earnest prayer and mine.\u201d\nHe spoke, and as the big tears fell,\nTo his dear brother bade farewell.\n  Round R\u00e1ma, Bharat strong and bold\n    In humble reverence paced,\n  When the bright sandals wrought with gold\n    Above his brows were placed.\n  The royal elephant who led\n    The glorious pomp he found,\n  And on the monster\u2019s mighty head\n    Those sandals duly bound.\n  Then noble R\u00e1ma, born to swell\n    The glories of his race,\n  To all in order bade farewell\n    With love and tender grace\u2014\n  To brothers, counsellers, and peers,\u2014\n    Still firm, in duty proved,\n  Firm, as the Lord of Snow uprears\n    His mountains unremoved.\n  No queen, for choking sobs and sighs,\n    Could say her last adieu:\n  Then R\u00e1ma bowed, with flooded eyes,\n    And to his cot withdrew.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXIII. Bharat\u2019s Return.\n\n\nBearing the sandals on his head\nAway triumphant Bharat sped,\nAnd clomb, \u015aatrughna by his side,\nThe car wherein he wont to ride.\nBefore the mighty army went\nThe lords for counsel eminent,\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, V\u00e1madeva next,\nJ\u00e1v\u00e1li, pure with prayer and text.\nThen from that lovely river they\nTurned eastward on their homeward way:\nWith reverent steps from left to right\nThey circled Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s height,\nAnd viewed his peaks on every side\nWith stains of thousand metals dyed.\nThen Bharat saw, not far away,\nWhere Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s dwelling lay,\nAnd when the chieftain bold and sage\nHad reached that holy hermitage,\nDown from the car he sprang to greet\nThe saint, and bowed before his feet.\nHigh rapture filled the hermit\u2019s breast,\nWho thus the royal prince addressed:\n\u201cSay, Bharat, is thy duty done?\nHast thou with R\u00e1ma met, my son?\u201d\n\n  The chief whose soul to virtue clave\nThis answer to the hermit gave:\n\u201cI prayed him with our holy guide:\nBut Raghu\u2019s son our prayer denied,\nAnd long besought by both of us\nHe answered Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha thus:\n\u201cTrue to my vow, I still will be\nObservant of my sire\u2019s decree:\nTill fourteen years complete their course\nThat promise shall remain in force.\u201d\nThe saint in highest wisdom taught,\nThese solemn words with wisdom fraught,\nTo him in lore of language learned\nMost eloquent himself returned:\n\u201cObey my rede: let Bharat hold\nThis pair of sandals decked with gold:\nThey in Ayodhy\u00e1 shall ensure\nOur welfare, and our bliss secure.\u201d\nWhen R\u00e1ma heard the royal priest\nHe rose, and looking to the east\nConsigned the sandals to my hand\nThat they for him might guard the land.\nThen from the high-souled chief\u2019s abode\nI turned upon my homeward road,\nDismissed by him, and now this pair\nOf sandals to Ayodhy\u00e1 bear.\u201d\n\n  To him the hermit thus replied,\nBy Bharat\u2019s tidings gratified:\n\u201cNo marvel thoughts so just and true,\nThou best of all who right pursue,\nShould dwell in thee, O Prince of men,\nAs waters gather in the glen.\nHe is not dead, we mourn in vain:\nThy blessed father lives again,\nWhose noble son we thus behold\nLike Virtue\u2019s self in human mould.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: before him Bharat fell\nTo clasp his feet, and said farewell:\nHis reverent steps around him bent,\nAnd onward to Ayodhy\u00e1 went.\nHis host of followers stretching far\nWith many an elephant and car,\nWaggon and steed, and mighty train,\nTraversed their homeward way again.\nO\u2019er holy Yamun\u00e1 they sped,\nFair stream, with waves engarlanded,\nAnd then once more the rivers\u2019 queen,\nThe blessed Gang\u00e1\u2019s self was seen.\nThen making o\u2019er that flood his way,\nWhere crocodiles and monsters lay,\nThe king to \u015aringavera drew\nHis host and royal retinue.\nHis onward way he thence pursued,\nAnd soon renowned Ayodhy\u00e1 viewed.\nThen burnt by woe and sad of cheer\nBharat addressed the charioteer:\n\u201cAh, see, Ayodhy\u00e1 dark and sad,\nHer glory gone, once bright and glad:\nOf joy and beauty reft, forlorn,\nIn silent grief she seems to mourn.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXIV. Bharat\u2019s Departure.\n\n\nDeep, pleasant was the chariot\u2019s sound\nAs royal Bharat, far renowned,\nWhirled by his mettled coursers fast\nWithin Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s city passed.\nThere dark and drear was every home\nWhere cats and owls had space to roam,\nAs when the shades of midnight fall\nWith blackest gloom, and cover all:\nAs Rohi\u1e47\u00ed, dear spouse of him\nWhom R\u00e1hu hates,(396) grows faint and dim,\nWhen, as she shines on high alone\nThe demon\u2019s shade is o\u2019er her thrown:\nAs burnt by summer\u2019s heat a rill\nScarce trickling from her parent hill,\nWith dying fish in pools half dried,\nAnd fainting birds upon her side:\nAs sacrificial flames arise\nWhen holy oil their food supplies,\nBut when no more the fire is fed\nSink lustreless and cold and dead:\nLike some brave host that filled the plain,\nWith harness rent and captains slain,\nWhen warrior, elephant, and steed\nMingled in wild confusion bleed:\nAs when, all spent her store of worth,\nRocks from her base the loosened earth:\nLike a sad fallen star no more\nWearing the lovely light it wore:\nSo mournful in her lost estate\nWas that sad town disconsolate.\nThen car-borne Bharat, good and brave,\nThus spake to him the steeds who drave:\n\u201cWhy are Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s streets so mute?\nWhere is the voice of lyre and lute?\nWhy sounds not, as of old, to-day\nThe music of the minstrel\u2019s lay?\nWhere are the wreaths they used to twine?\nWhere are the blossoms and the wine?\nWhere is the cool refreshing scent\nOf sandal dust with aloe blent?\nThe elephant\u2019s impatient roar,\nThe din of cars, I hear no more:\nNo more the horse\u2019s pleasant neigh\nRings out to meet me on my way.\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s youths, since R\u00e1ma\u2019s flight,\nHave lost their relish for delight:\nHer men roam forth no more, nor care\nBright garlands round their necks to wear.\nAll grieve for banished R\u00e1ma: feast,\nAnd revelry and song have ceased:\nLike a black night when floods pour down,\nSo dark and gloomy is the town.\nWhen will he come to make them gay\nLike some auspicious holiday?\nWhen will my brother, like a cloud\nAt summer\u2019s close, make glad the crowd?\u201d\n\n  Then through the streets the hero rode,\nAnd passed within his sire\u2019s abode,\nLike some deserted lion\u2019s den,\nForsaken by the lord of men.\nThen to the inner bowers he came,\nOnce happy home of many a dame,\n  Now gloomy, sad, and drear,\nDark as of old that sunless day\nWhen wept the Gods in wild dismay;(397)\n  There poured he many a tear.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXV. Nandigr\u00e1m.(398)\n\n\nThen when the pious chief had seen\nLodged in her home each widowed queen,\nStill with his burning grief oppressed\nHis holy guides he thus addressed:\n\u201cI go to Nandigr\u00e1m: adieu,\nThis day, my lords to all of you:\nI go, my load of grief to bear,\nReft of the son of Raghu, there.\nThe king my sire, alas, is dead,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to the forest fled;\nThere will I wait till he, restored,\nShall rule the realm, its rightful lord.\u201d\n\n  They heard the high-souled prince\u2019s speech,\nAnd thus with ready answer each\nOf those great lords their chief addressed,\nWith saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha and the rest:\n\u201cGood are the words which thou hast said,\nBy brotherly affection led,\nLike thine own self, a faithful friend,\nTrue to thy brother to the end:\nA heart like thine must all approve,\nWhich naught from virtue\u2019s path can move.\u201d\n\n  Soon as the words he loved to hear\nFell upon Bharat\u2019s joyful ear,\nThus to the charioteer he spoke:\n\u201cMy car with speed, Sumantra, yoke.\u201d\nThen Bharat with delighted mien\nObeisance paid to every queen,\nAnd with \u015aatrughna by his side\nMounting the car away he hied.\nWith lords, and priests in long array\nThe brothers hastened on their way.\nAnd the great pomp the Br\u00e1hmans led\nWith Saint Va\u015bish\u1e6dha at their head.\nThen every face was eastward bent\nAs on to Nandigr\u00e1m they went.\nBehind the army followed, all\nUnsummoned by their leader\u2019s call,\nAnd steeds and elephants and men\nStreamed forth with every citizen.\nAs Bharat in his chariot rode\nHis heart with love fraternal glowed,\nAnd with the sandals on his head\nTo Nandigr\u00e1m he quickly sped.\nWithin the town he swiftly pressed,\nAlighted, and his guides addressed:\n\u201cTo me in trust my brother\u2019s hand\nConsigned the lordship of the land,\nWhen he these gold-wrought sandals gave\nAs emblems to protect and save.\u201d\nThen Bharat bowed, and from his head\nThe sacred pledge deposited,\nAnd thus to all the people cried\nWho ringed him round on every side:\n\u201cHaste, for these sandals quickly bring\nThe canopy that shades the king.\nPay ye to them all reverence meet\nAs to my elder brother\u2019s feet,\nFor they will right and law maintain\nUntil King R\u00e1ma come again.\nMy brother with a loving mind\nThese sandals to my charge consigned:\nI till he come will guard with care\nThe sacred trust for Raghu\u2019s heir.\nMy watchful task will soon be done,\nThe pledge restored to Raghu\u2019s son;\nThen shall I see, his wanderings o\u2019er,\nThese sandals on his feet once more.\nMy brother I shall meet at last,\nThe burthen from my shoulders cast,\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand the realm restore\nAnd serve my elder as before.\nWhen R\u00e1ma takes again this pair\nOf sandals kept with pious care,\nAnd here his glorious reign begins,\nI shall be cleansed from all my sins,\nWhen the glad people\u2019s voices ring\nWith welcome to the new-made king,\nJoy will be mine four-fold as great\nAs if supreme I ruled the state.\u201d\n\n  Thus humbly spoke in sad lament\nThe chief in fame pre\u00ebminent:\nThus, by his reverent lords obeyed,\nAt Nandigr\u00e1m the kingdom swayed.\nWith hermit\u2019s dress and matted hair\nHe dwelt with all his army there.\nThe sandals of his brother\u2019s feet\nInstalled upon the royal seat,\nHe, all his powers to them referred,\nAffairs of state administered.\n  In every care, in every task,\n    When golden store was brought,\n  He first, as though their rede to ask,\n    Those royal sandals sought.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXVI. The Hermit\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nWhen Bharat took his homeward road\nStill R\u00e1ma in the wood abode:\nBut soon he marked the fear and care\nThat darkened all the hermits there.\nFor all who dwelt before the hill\nWere sad with dread of coming ill:\nEach holy brow was lined by thought,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s side they often sought.\nWith gathering frowns the prince they eyed,\nAnd then withdrew and talked aside.\n\n  Then Raghu\u2019s son with anxious breast\nThe leader of the saints addressed:\n\u201cCan aught that I have done displease,\nO reverend Sage, the devotees?\nWhy are their loving looks, O say,\nThus sadly changed or turned away?\nHas Lakshma\u1e47 through his want of heed\nOffended with unseemly deed?\nOr is the gentle S\u00edt\u00e1, she\nWho loved to honour you and me\u2014\nIs she the cause of this offence,\nFailing in lowly reverence?\u201d\n\n  One sage, o\u2019er whom, exceeding old,\nHad many a year of penance rolled,\nTrembling in every aged limb\nThus for the rest replied to him:\n\u201cHow could we, O beloved, blame\nThy lofty-souled Videhan dame,\nWho in the good of all delights,\nAnd more than all of anchorites?\nBut yet through thee a numbing dread\nOf fiends among our band has spread;\nObstructed by the demons\u2019 art\nThe trembling hermits talk apart.\nFor R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s brother, overbold,\nNamed Khara, of gigantic mould,\nVexes with fury fierce and fell\nAll those in Janasth\u00e1n(399) who dwell.\nResistless in his cruel deeds,\nOn flesh of men the monster feeds:\nSinful and arrogant is he,\nAnd looks with special hate on thee.\nSince thou, beloved son, hast made\nThy home within this holy shade,\nThe fiends have vexed with wilder rage\nThe dwellers of the hermitage.\nIn many a wild and dreadful form\nAround the trembling saints they swarm,\nWith hideous shape and foul disguise\nThey terrify our holy eyes.\nThey make our loathing souls endure\nInsult and scorn and sights impure,\nAnd flocking round the altars stay\nThe holy rites we love to pay.\nIn every spot throughout the grove\nWith evil thoughts the monsters rove,\nAssailing with their secret might\nEach unsuspecting anchorite.\nLadle and dish away they fling,\nOur fires with floods extinguishing,\nAnd when the sacred flame should burn\nThey trample on each water-urn.\nNow when they see their sacred wood\nPlagued by this impious brotherhood,\nThe troubled saints away would roam\nAnd seek in other shades a home:\nHence will we fly, O R\u00e1ma, ere\nThe cruel fiends our bodies tear.\nNot far away a forest lies\nRich in the roots and fruit we prize,\nTo this will I and all repair\nAnd join the holy hermits there;\nBe wise, and with us thither flee\nBefore this Khara injure thee.\nMighty art thou, O R\u00e1ma, yet\nEach day with peril is beset.\nIf with thy consort by thy side\nThou in this wood wilt still abide.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the words the hero spake\nThe hermit\u2019s purpose failed to break:\nTo Raghu\u2019s son farewell he said,\nAnd blessed the chief and comforted;\nThen with the rest the holy sage\nDeparted from the hermitage.\n\n  So from the wood the saints withdrew,\nAnd R\u00e1ma bidding all adieu\n  In lowly reverence bent:\nInstructed by their friendly speech,\nBlest with the gracious love of each,\n  To his pure home he went.\nNor would the son of Raghu stray\nA moment from that grove away\n  From which the saints had fled.\nAnd many a hermit thither came\nAttracted by his saintly fame\n  And the pure life he led.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXVII. Anas\u00fay\u00e1.\n\n\nBut dwelling in that lonely spot\nLeft by the hermits pleased him not.\n\u201cI met the faithful Bharat here,\nThe townsmen, and my mother dear:\nThe painful memory lingers yet,\nAnd stings me with a vain regret.\nAnd here the host of Bharat camped,\nAnd many a courser here has stamped,\nAnd elephants with ponderous feet\nHave trampled through the calm retreat.\u201d\nSo forth to seek a home he hied,\nHis spouse and Lakshma\u1e47 by his side.\nHe came to Atri\u2019s pure retreat,\nPaid reverence to his holy feet,\nAnd from the saint such welcome won\nAs a fond father gives his son.\nThe noble prince with joy unfeigned\nAs a dear guest he entertained,\nAnd cheered the glorious Lakshma\u1e47 too\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 with observance due.\nThen Anas\u00fay\u00e1 at the call\nOf him who sought the good of all,\nHis blameless venerable spouse,\nDelighting in her holy vows,\nCame from her chamber to his side:\nTo her the virtuous hermit cried:\n\u201cReceive, I pray, with friendly grace\nThis dame of Maithil monarchs\u2019 race:\u201d\nTo R\u00e1ma next made known his wife,\nThe devotee of saintliest life:\n\u201cTen thousand years this votaress bent\nOn sternest rites of penance spent;\nShe when the clouds withheld their rain,\nAnd drought ten years consumed the plain,\nCaused grateful roots and fruit to grow\nAnd ordered Gang\u00e1 here to flow:\nSo from their cares the saints she freed,\nNor let these checks their rites impede,\nShe wrought in Heaven\u2019s behalf, and made\nTen nights of one, the Gods to aid:(400)\nLet holy Anas\u00fay\u00e1 be\nAn honoured mother, Prince, to thee.\nLet thy Videhan spouse draw near\nTo her whom all that live revere,\nStricken in years, whose loving mind\nIs slow to wrath and ever kind.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and R\u00e1ma gave assent,\nAnd said, with eyes on S\u00edt\u00e1 bent:\n\u201cO Princess, thou hast heard with me\nThis counsel of the devotee:\nNow that her touch thy soul may bless,\nApproach the saintly votaress:\nCome to the venerable dame,\nFar known by Anas\u00fay\u00e1\u2019s name:\nThe mighty things that she has done\nHigh glory in the world have won.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the son of Raghu: she\nApproached the saintly devotee,\nWho with her white locks, old and frail,\nShook like a plantain in the gale.\nTo that true spouse she bowed her head,\nAnd \u201cLady, I am S\u00edt\u00e1,\u201d said:\nRaised suppliant hands and prayed her tell\nThat all was prosperous and well.\n\n  The aged matron, when she saw\nFair S\u00edt\u00e1 true to duty\u2019s law,\nAddressed her thus: \u201cHigh fate is thine\nWhose thoughts to virtue still incline.\nThou, lady of the noble mind,\nHast kin and state and wealth resigned\nTo follow R\u00e1ma forced to tread\nWhere solitary woods are spread.\nThose women gain high spheres above\nWho still unchanged their husbands love,\nWhether they dwell in town or wood,\nWhether their hearts be ill or good.\nThough wicked, poor, or led away\nIn love\u2019s forbidden paths to stray,\nThe noble matron still will deem\nHer lord a deity supreme.\nRegarding kin and friendship, I\nCan see no better, holier tie,\nAnd every penance-rite is dim\nBeside the joy of serving him.\nBut dark is this to her whose mind\nPromptings of idle fancy blind,\nWho led by evil thoughts away\nMakes him who should command obey.\nSuch women, O dear Maithil dame,\nTheir virtue lose and honest fame,\nEnslaved by sin and folly, led\nIn these unholy paths to tread.\nBut they who good and true like thee\nThe present and the future see,\nLike men by holy deeds will rise\nTo mansions in the blissful skies.\n  So keep thee pure from taint of sin,\n    Still to thy lord be true,\n  And fame and merit shalt thou win,\n    To thy devotion due.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXVIII. Anas\u00fay\u00e1\u2019s Gifts.\n\n\nThus by the holy dame addressed\nWho banished envy from her breast,\nHer lowly reverence S\u00edt\u00e1 paid,\nAnd softly thus her answer made:\n\u201cNo marvel, best of dames, thy speech\nThe duties of a wife should teach;\nYet I, O lady, also know\nDue reverence to my lord to show.\nWere he the meanest of the base,\nUnhonoured with a single grace,\nMy husband still I ne\u2019er would leave,\nBut firm through all to him would cleave:\nStill rather to a lord like mine\nWhose virtues high-exalted shine,\nCompassionate, of lofty soul,\nWith every sense in due control,\nTrue in his love, of righteous mind,\nLike a dear sire and mother kind.\nE\u2019en as he ever loves to treat\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 with observance meet,\nHas his behaviour ever been\nTo every other honoured queen.\nNay, more, a sonlike reverence shows\nThe noble R\u00e1ma e\u2019en to those\nOn whom the king his father set\nHis eyes one moment, to forget.\nDeep in my heart the words are stored,\nSaid by the mother of my lord,\nWhen from my home I turned away\nIn the lone fearful woods to stray.\nThe counsel of my mother deep\nImpressed upon my soul I keep,\nWhen by the fire I took my stand,\nAnd R\u00e1ma clasped in his my hand.\nAnd in my bosom cherished yet,\nMy friends\u2019 advice I ne\u2019er forget:\nWoman her holiest offering pays\nWhen she her husband\u2019s will obeys.\nGood S\u00e1vitr\u00ed her lord obeyed,\nAnd a high saint in heaven was made,\nAnd for the self-same virtue thou\nHast heaven in thy possession now.\nAnd she with whom no dame could vie,\nNow a bright Goddess in the sky,\nSweet Rohi\u1e47\u00ed the Moon\u2019s dear Queen,\nWithout her lord is never seen:\nAnd many a faithful wife beside\nFor her pure love is glorified.\u201d\n\n  Thus S\u00edt\u00e1 spake: soft rapture stole\nThrough Anas\u00fay\u00e1\u2019s saintly soul:\nKisses on S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s head she pressed,\nAnd thus the Maithil dame addressed:\n\u201cI by long rites and toils endured\nRich store of merit have secured:\nFrom this my wealth will I bestow\nA blessing ere I let thee go.\nSo right and wise and true each word\nThat from thy lips mine ears have heard,\nI love thee: be my pleasing task\nTo grant the boon that thou shalt ask.\u201d\n\n  Then S\u00edt\u00e1 marvelled much, and while\nPlayed o\u2019er her lips a gentle smile,\n\u201cAll has been done, O Saint,\u201d she cried,\n\u201cAnd naught remains to wish beside.\u201d\n\n  She spake; the lady\u2019s meek reply\nSwelled Anas\u00fay\u00e1\u2019s rapture high.\n\u201cS\u00edt\u00e1,\u201d she said, \u201cmy gift to-day\nThy sweet contentment shall repay.\nAccept this precious robe to wear,\nOf heavenly fabric, rich and rare,\nThese gems thy limbs to ornament,\nThis precious balsam sweet of scent.\nO Maithil dame, this gift of mine\nShall make thy limbs with beauty shine,\nAnd breathing o\u2019er thy frame dispense\nIts pure and lasting influence.\nThis balsam on thy fair limbs spread\nNew radiance on thy lord shall shed,\nAs Lakshm\u00ed\u2019s beauty lends a grace\nTo Vish\u1e47u\u2019s own celestial face.\u201d\n\n  Then S\u00edt\u00e1 took the gift the dame\nBestowed on her in friendship\u2019s name,\nThe balsam, gems, and robe divine,\nAnd garlands wreathed of bloomy twine;\nThen sat her down, with reverence meet,\nAt saintly Anas\u00fay\u00e1\u2019s feet.\nThe matron rich in rites and vows\nTurned her to R\u00e1ma\u2019s Maithil spouse,\nAnd questioned thus in turn to hear\nA pleasant tale to charm her ear:\n\u201cS\u00edt\u00e1, \u2019tis said that Raghu\u2019s son\nThy hand, mid gathered suitors, won.\nI fain would hear thee, lady, tell\nThe story as it all befell:\nDo thou repeat each thing that passed,\nReviewing all from first to last.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the dame to S\u00edt\u00e1: she\nReplying to the devotee,\n\u201cThen, lady, thy attention lend,\u201d\nRehearsed the story to the end:\n\n  \u201cKing Janak, just and brave and strong,\nWho loves the right and hates the wrong,\nWell skilled in what the law ordains\nFor Warriors, o\u2019er Videha reigns.\nGuiding one morn the plough, his hand\nMarked out, for rites the sacred land,\nWhen, as the ploughshare cleft the earth,\nChild of the king I leapt to birth.\nThen as the ground he smoothed and cleared,\nHe saw me all with dust besmeared,\nAnd on the new-found babe, amazed\nThe ruler of Videha gazed.\nIn childless love the monarch pressed\nThe welcome infant to his breast:\n\u201cMy daughter,\u201d thus he cried, \u201cis she:\u201d\nAnd as his child he cared for me.\nForth from the sky was heard o\u2019erhead\nAs \u2019twere a human voice that said:\n\u201cYea, even so: great King, this child\nHenceforth thine own be justly styled.\u201d\nVideha\u2019s monarch, virtuous souled,\nRejoiced o\u2019er me with joy untold,\nDelighting in his new-won prize,\nThe darling of his heart and eyes.\nTo his chief queen of saintly mind\nThe precious treasure he consigned,\nAnd by her side she saw me grow,\nNursed with the love which mothers know.\nThen as he saw the seasons fly,\nAnd knew my marriage-time was nigh,\nMy sire was vexed with care, as sad\nAs one who mourns the wealth he had:\n\u201cScorn on the maiden\u2019s sire must wait\nFrom men of high and low estate:\nThe virgin\u2019s father all despise,\nThough Indra\u2019s peer, who rules the skies.\u201d\nMore near he saw, and still more near,\nThe scorn that filled his soul with fear,\nOn trouble\u2019s billowy ocean tossed,\nLike one whose shattered bark is lost.\nMy father knowing how I came,\nNo daughter of a mortal dame,\nIn all the regions failed to see\nA bridegroom meet to match with me.\nEach way with anxious thought he scanned,\nAnd thus at length the monarch planned:\n\u201cThe Bride\u2019s Election will I hold,\nWith every rite prescribed of old.\u201d\nIt pleased King Varu\u1e47 to bestow\nQuiver and shafts and heavenly bow\nUpon my father\u2019s sire who reigned,\nWhen Daksha his great rite ordained.\nWhere was the man might bend or lift\nWith utmost toil that wondrous gift?\nNot e\u2019en in dreams could mortal king\nStrain the great bow or draw the string.\nOf this tremendous bow possessed,\nMy truthful father thus addressed\nThe lords of many a region, all\nAssembled at the monarch\u2019s call:\n\u201cWhoe\u2019er this bow can manage, he\nThe husband of my child shall be.\u201d\nThe suitors viewed with hopeless eyes\nThat wondrous bow of mountain size,\nThen to my sire they bade adieu,\nAnd all with humbled hearts withdrew.\nAt length with Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra came\nThis son of Raghu, dear to fame,\nThe royal sacrifice to view.\nNear to my father\u2019s home he drew,\nHis brother Lakshma\u1e47 by his side,\nR\u00e1ma, in deeds heroic tried.\nMy sire with honour entertained\nThe saint in lore of duty trained,\nWho thus in turn addressed the king:\n\u201cR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 here who spring\nFrom royal Da\u015baratha, long\nTo see thy bow so passing strong.\u201d\n\n  Before the prince\u2019s eyes was laid\nThat marvel, as the Br\u00e1hman prayed.\nOne moment on the bow he gazed,\nQuick to the notch the string he raised,\nThen, in the wandering people\u2019s view,\nThe cord with mighty force he drew.\nThen with an awful crash as loud\nAs thunderbolts that cleave the cloud,\nThe bow beneath the matchless strain\nOf arms heroic snapped in twain.\nThus, giving purest water, he,\nMy sire, to R\u00e1ma offered me.\nThe prince the offered gift declined\nTill he should learn his father\u2019s mind;\nSo horsemen swift Ayodhy\u00e1 sought\nAnd back her aged monarch brought.\nMe then my sire to R\u00e1ma gave,\nSelf-ruled, the bravest of the brave.\nAnd Urmil\u00e1, the next to me,\nGraced with all gifts, most fair to see,\nMy sire with Raghu\u2019s house allied,\nAnd gave her to be Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s bride.\nThus from the princes of the land\nLord R\u00e1ma won my maiden hand,\nAnd him exalted high above\nHeroic chiefs I truly love.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXIX. The Forest.\n\n\nWhen Anas\u00fay\u00e1, virtuous-souled,\nHad heard the tale by S\u00edt\u00e1 told,\nShe kissed the lady\u2019s brow and laced\nHer loving arms around her waist.\n\u201cWith sweet-toned words distinct and clear\nThy pleasant tale has charmed mine ear,\nHow the great king thy father held\nThat Maiden\u2019s Choice unparalleled.\nBut now the sun has sunk from sight,\nAnd left the world to holy Night.\nHark! how the leafy thickets sound\nWith gathering birds that twitter round:\nThey sought their food by day, and all\nFlock homeward when the shadows fall.\nSee, hither comes the hermit band,\nEach with his pitcher in his hand:\nFresh from the bath, their locks are wet,\nTheir coats of bark are dripping yet.\nHere saints their fires of worship tend,\nAnd curling wreaths of smoke ascend:\nBorne on the flames they mount above,\nDark as the brown wings of the dove.\nThe distant trees, though well-nigh bare,\nGloom thickened by the evening air,\nAnd in the faint uncertain light\nShut the horizon from our sight.\nThe beasts that prowl in darkness rove\nOn every side about the grove,\nAnd the tame deer, at ease reclined\nTheir shelter near the altars find.\nThe night o\u2019er all the sky is spread,\nWith lunar stars engarlanded,\nAnd risen in his robes of light\nThe moon is beautifully bright.\nNow to thy lord I bid thee go:\nThy pleasant tale has charmed me so:\nOne thing alone I needs must pray,\nBefore me first thyself array:\nHere in thy heavenly raiment shine,\nAnd glad, dear love, these eyes of mine.\u201d\nThen like a heavenly Goddess shone\nFair S\u00edt\u00e1 with that raiment on.\nShe bowed her to the matron\u2019s feet,\nThen turned away her lord to meet.\nThe hero prince with joy surveyed\nHis S\u00edt\u00e1 in her robes arrayed,\nAs glorious to his arms she came\nWith love-gifts of the saintly dame.\nShe told him how the saint to show\nHer fond affection would bestow\nThat garland of celestial twine,\nThose ornaments and robes divine.\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s heart, nor Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s less,\nWas filled with pride and happiness,\nFor honours high had S\u00edt\u00e1 gained,\nWhich mortal dames have scarce obtained.\nThere honoured by each pious sage\nWho dwelt within the hermitage,\nBeside his darling well content\nThat sacred night the hero spent.\n\n  The princes, when the night had fled,\nFarewell to all the hermits said,\nWho gazed upon the distant shade,\nTheir lustral rites and offerings paid.\nThe saints who made their dwelling there\nIn words like these addressed the pair:\n\u201cO Princes, monsters fierce and fell\nAround that distant forest dwell:\nOn blood from human veins they feed,\nAnd various forms assume at need,\nWith savage beasts of fearful power\nThat human flesh and blood devour.\nOur holy saints they rend and tear\nWhen met alone or unaware,\nAnd eat them in their cruel joy:\nThese chase, O R\u00e1ma, or destroy.\nBy this one path our hermits go\nTo fetch the fruits that yonder grow:\nBy this, O Prince, thy feet should stray\nThrough pathless forests far away.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the reverent saints addressed,\nAnd by their prayers auspicious blessed,\n  He left the holy crowd:\nHis wife and brother by his side,\nWithin the mighty wood he hied.\nSo sinks the Day-God in his pride\n  Beneath a bank of cloud.\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III.\n\n\n\n\nCanto I. The Hermitage.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma, valiant hero, stood\nIn the vast shade of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood,\nHis eyes on every side he bent\nAnd saw a hermit settlement,\nWhere coats of bark were hung around,\nAnd holy grass bestrewed the ground.\nBright with Br\u00e1hmanic lustre glowed\nThat circle where the saints abode:\nLike the hot sun in heaven it shone,\nToo dazzling to be looked upon.\nWild creatures found a refuge where\nThe court, well-swept, was bright and fair,\nAnd countless birds and roedeer made\nTheir dwelling in the friendly shade.\nBeneath the boughs of well-loved trees\nOft danced the gay Apsarases.(401)\nAround was many an ample shed\nWherein the holy fire was fed;\nWith sacred grass and skins of deer,\nLadles and sacrificial gear,\nAnd roots and fruit, and wood to burn,\nAnd many a brimming water-urn.\nTall trees their hallowed branches spread,\nLaden with pleasant fruit, o\u2019erhead;\nAnd gifts which holy laws require,(402)\nAnd solemn offerings burnt with fire,(403)\nAnd Veda chants on every side\nThat home of hermits sanctified.\nThere many a flower its odour shed,\nAnd lotus blooms the lake o\u2019erspred.\nThere, clad in coats of bark and hide,\u2014\nTheir food by roots and fruit supplied,\u2014\nDwelt many an old and reverend sire\nBright as the sun or Lord of Fire,\nAll with each worldly sense subdued,\nA pure and saintly multitude.\nThe Veda chants, the saints who trod\nThe sacred ground and mused on God,\nMade that delightful grove appear\nLike Brahm\u00e1\u2019s own most glorious sphere.\nAs Raghu\u2019s splendid son surveyed\nThat hermit home and tranquil shade,\nHe loosed his mighty bow-string, then\nDrew nearer to the holy men.\nWith keen celestial sight endued\nThose mighty saints the chieftain viewed,\nWith joy to meet the prince they came,\nAnd gentle S\u00edt\u00e1 dear to fame.\nThey looked on virtuous R\u00e1ma, fair\nAs Soma(404) in the evening air,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 by his brother\u2019s side,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 long in duty tried,\nAnd with glad blessings every sage\nReceived them in the hermitage.\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s form and stature tall\nEntranced the wondering eyes of all,\u2014\nHis youthful grace, his strength of limb,\nAnd garb that nobly sat on him.\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 too their looks they raised,\nAnd upon S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s beauty gazed\nWith eyes that closed not lest their sight\nShould miss the vision of delight.\nThen the pure hermits of the wood,\nRejoicing in all creatures\u2019 good,\nTheir guest, the glorious R\u00e1ma, led\nWithin a cot with leaves o\u2019erhead.\nWith highest honour all the best\nOf radiant saints received their guest,\nWith kind observance, as is meet,\nAnd gave him water for his feet.\nTo highest pitch of rapture wrought\nTheir stores of roots and fruit they brought.\nThey poured their blessings on his head,\nAnd \u201cAll we have is thine,\u201d they said.\nThen, reverent hand to hand applied,(405)\nEach duty-loving hermit cried:\n\u201cThe king is our protector, bright\nIn fame, maintainer of the right.\nHe bears the awful sword, and hence\nDeserves an elder\u2019s reverence.\nOne fourth of Indra\u2019s essence, he\nPreserves his realm from danger free,\nHence honoured by the world of right\nThe king enjoys each choice delight.\nThou shouldst to us protection give,\nFor in thy realm, dear lord, we live:\nWhether in town or wood thou be,\nThou art our king, thy people we.\nOur wordly aims are laid aside,\nOur hearts are tamed and purified.\nTo thee our guardian, we who earn\nOur only wealth by penance turn.\u201d\n\n  Then the pure dwellers in the shade\nTo Raghu\u2019s son due honour paid,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, bringing store of roots,\nAnd many a flower, and woodland fruits.\nAnd others strove the prince to please\nWith all attentive courtesies.\n\n\n\n\nCanto II. Vir\u00e1dha.\n\n\nThus entertained he passed the night,\nThen, with the morning\u2019s early light,\nTo all the hermits bade adieu\nAnd sought his onward way anew.\nHe pierced the mighty forest where\nRoamed many a deer and pard and bear:\nIts ruined pools he scarce could see.\nFor creeper rent and prostrate tree,\nWhere shrill cicada\u2019s cries were heard,\nAnd plaintive notes of many a bird.\nDeep in the thickets of the wood\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 and his spouse he stood,\nThere in the horrid shade he saw\nA giant passing nature\u2019s law:\nVast as some mountain-peak in size,\nWith mighty voice and sunken eyes,\nHuge, hideous, tall, with monstrous face,\nMost ghastly of his giant race.\nA tiger\u2019s hide the R\u00e1kshas wore\nStill reeking with the fat and gore:\nHuge-faced, like Him who rules the dead,\nAll living things he struck with dread.\nThree lions, tigers four, ten deer\nHe carried on his iron spear,\nTwo wolves, an elephant\u2019s head beside\nWith mighty tusks which blood-drops dyed.\nWhen on the three his fierce eye fell,\nHe charged them with a roar and yell\nAs furious as the grisly King\nWhen stricken worlds are perishing.\nThen with a mighty roar that shook\nThe earth beneath their feet, he took\nThe trembling S\u00edt\u00e1 to his side.\nWithdrew a little space, and cried:\n\u201cHa, short lived wretches, ye who dare,\nIn hermit dress with matted hair,\nArmed each with arrows, sword, and bow,\nThrough Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s pathless wood to go:\nHow with one dame, I bid you tell,\nCan you among ascetics dwell?\nWho are ye, sinners, who despise\nThe right, in holy men\u2019s disguise?\nThe great Vir\u00e1dha, day by day\nThrough this deep-tangled wood I stray,\nAnd ever, armed with trusty steel,\nI seize a saint to make my meal.\nThis woman young and fair of frame\nShall be the conquering giant\u2019s dame:\nYour blood, ye things of evil life,\nMy lips shall quaff in battle strife.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: and Janak\u2019s hapless child,\nScared by his speech so fierce and wild,\nTrembled for terror, as a frail\nYoung plantain shivers in the gale.\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw Vir\u00e1dha clasp\nFair S\u00edt\u00e1 in his mighty grasp,\nThus with pale lips that terror dried\nThe hero to his brother cried:\n\u201cO see Vir\u00e1dha\u2019s arm enfold\nMy darling in its cursed hold,\u2014\nThe child of Janak best of kings,\nMy spouse whose soul to virtue clings,\nSweet princess, with pure glory bright,\nNursed in the lap of soft delight.\nNow falls the blow Kaikey\u00ed meant,\nSuccessful in her dark intent:\nThis day her cruel soul will be\nTriumphant over thee and me.\nThough Bharat on the throne is set,\nHer greedy eyes look farther yet:\nMe from my home she dared expel,\nMe whom all creatures loved so well.\nThis fatal day at length, I ween,\nBrings triumph to the younger queen.\nI see with bitterest grief and shame\nAnother touch the Maithil dame.\nNot loss of sire and royal power\nSo grieves me as this mournful hour.\u201d\n\n  Thus in his anguish cried the chief:\nThen drowned in tears, o\u2019erwhelmed by grief,\nThus Lakshma\u1e47 in his anger spake,\nQuick panting like a spell-bound snake:\n\n  \u201cCanst thou, my brother, Indra\u2019s peer,\nWhen I thy minister am near,\nThus grieve like some forsaken thing,\nThou, every creature\u2019s lord and king?\nMy vengeful shaft the fiend shall slay,\nAnd earth shall drink his blood to-day.\nThe fury which my soul at first\nUpon usurping Bharat nursed,\nOn this Vir\u00e1dha will I wreak\nAs Indra splits the mountain peak.\nWinged by this arm\u2019s impetuous might\n  My shaft with deadly force\nThe monster in the chest shall smite,\n  And fell his shattered corse.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto III. Vir\u00e1dha Attacked.\n\n\nVir\u00e1dha with a fearful shout\nThat echoed through the wood, cried out:\n\n  \u201cWhat men are ye, I bid you say,\nAnd whither would ye bend your way?\u201d\n\n  To him whose mouth shot fiery flame\nThe hero told his race and name:\n\u201cTwo Warriors, nobly bred, are we,\nAnd through this wood we wander free.\nBut who art thou, how born and styled,\nWho roamest here in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s wild?\u201d\n\n  To R\u00e1ma, bravest of the brave,\nHis answer thus Vir\u00e1dha gave:\n\u201cHear, Raghu\u2019s son, and mark me well,\nAnd I my name and race will tell.\nOf \u015aatahrad\u00e1 born, I spring\nFrom Java as my sire, O King:\nMe, of this lofty lineage, all\nGiants on earth Vir\u00e1dha call.\nThe rites austere I long maintained\nFrom Brahm\u00e1\u2019s grace the boon have gained\nTo bear a charmed frame which ne\u2019er\nWeapon or shaft may pierce or tear.\nGo as ye came, untouched by fear,\nAnd leave with me this woman here:\nGo, swiftly from my presence fly,\nOr by this hand ye both shall die.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma with his fierce eyes red\nWith fury to the giant said:\n\u201cWoe to thee, sinner, fond and weak,\nWho madly thus thy death wilt seek!\nStand, for it waits thee in the fray:\nWith life thou ne\u2019er shalt flee away.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and raised the cord whereon\nA pointed arrow flashed and shone,\nThen, wild with anger, from his bow,\nHe launched the weapon on the foe.\nSeven times the fatal cord he drew,\nAnd forth seven rapid arrows flew,\nShafts winged with gold that left the wind\nAnd e\u2019en Supar\u1e47a\u2019s(406) self behind.\nFull on the giant\u2019s breast they smote,\nAnd purpled like the peacock\u2019s throat,\nPassed through his mighty bulk and came\nTo earth again like flakes of flame.\nThe fiend the Maithil dame unclasped;\nIn his fierce hand his spear he grasped,\nAnd wild with rage, pierced through and through,\nAt R\u00e1ma and his brother flew.\nSo loud the roar which chilled with fear,\nSo massy was the monster\u2019s spear,\nHe seemed, like Indra\u2019s flagstaff, dread\nAs the dark God who rules the dead.\nOn huge Vir\u00e1dha fierce as He(407)\nWho smites, and worlds have ceased to be,\nThe princely brothers poured amain\nTheir fiery flood of arrowy rain.\nUnmoved he stood, and opening wide\nHis dire mouth laughed unterrified,\nAnd ever as the monster gaped\nThose arrows from his jaws escaped.\nPreserving still his life unharmed,\nBy Brahm\u00e1\u2019s saving promise charmed,\nHis mighty spear aloft in air\nHe raised, and rushed upon the pair.\nFrom R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow two arrows flew\nAnd cleft that massive spear in two,\nDire as the flaming levin sent\nFrom out the cloudy firmament.\nCut by the shafts he guided well\nTo earth the giant\u2019s weapon fell:\nAs when from Meru\u2019s summit, riven\nBy fiery bolts, a rock is driven.\nThen swift his sword each warrior drew,\nLike a dread serpent black of hue,\nAnd gathering fury for the blow\nRushed fiercely on the giant foe.\nAround each prince an arm he cast,\nAnd held the dauntless heroes fast:\nThen, though his gashes gaped and bled,\nBearing the twain he turned and fled.\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma saw the giant\u2019s plan,\nAnd to his brother thus began:\n\u201cO Lakshma\u1e47, let Vir\u00e1dha still\nHurry us onward as he will,\nFor look, Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, he goes\nAlong the path we freely chose.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: the rover of the night\nUpraised them with terrific might,\nTill, to his lofty shoulders swung,\nLike children to his neck they clung.\nThen sending far his fearful roar,\nThe princes through the wood he bore,\u2014\nA wood like some vast cloud to view,\nWhere birds of every plumage flew,\nAnd mighty trees o\u2019erarching threw\n  Dark shadows on the ground;\nWhere snakes and silvan creatures made\nTheir dwelling, and the jackal strayed\n  Through tangled brakes around.\n\n\n\n\nCanto IV. Vir\u00e1dha\u2019s Death.\n\n\nBut S\u00edt\u00e1 viewed with wild affright\nThe heroes hurried from her sight.\nShe tossed her shapely arms on high,\nAnd shrieked aloud her bitter cry:\n\u201cAh, the dread giant bears away\nThe princely R\u00e1ma as his prey,\nTruthful and pure, and good and great,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 shares his brother\u2019s fate.\nThe brindled tiger and the bear\nMy mangled limbs for food will tear.\nTake me, O best of giants, me,\nAnd leave the sons of Raghu free.\u201d\n\n  Then, by avenging fury spurred,\nHer mournful cry the heroes heard,\nAnd hastened, for the lady\u2019s sake,\nThe wicked monster\u2019s life to take.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 with resistless stroke\nThe foe\u2019s left arm that held him broke,\nAnd R\u00e1ma too, as swift to smite,\nSmashed with his heavy hand the right.\nWith broken arms and tortured frame\nTo earth the fainting giant came,\nLike a huge cloud, or mighty rock\nRent, sundered by the levin\u2019s shock.\nThen rushed they on, and crushed and beat\nTheir foe with arms and fists and feet,\nAnd nerved each mighty limb to pound\nAnd bray him on the level ground.\nKeen arrows and each biting blade\nWide rents in breast and side had made;\nBut crushed and torn and mangled, still\nThe monster lived they could not kill.\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw no arms might slay\nThe fiend who like a mountain lay,\nThe glorious hero, swift to save\nIn danger, thus his counsel gave:\n\u201cO Prince of men, his charmed life\nNo arms may take in battle strife:\nNow dig we in this grove a pit\nHis elephantine bulk to fit,\nAnd let the hollowed earth enfold\nThe monster of gigantic mould.\u201d\n\n  This said, the son of Raghu pressed\nHis foot upon the giant\u2019s breast.\nWith joy the prostrate monster heard\nVictorious R\u00e1ma\u2019s welcome word,\nAnd straight Kakutstha\u2019s son, the best\nOf men, in words like these addressed:\n\u201cI yield, O chieftain, overthrown\nBy might that vies with Indra\u2019s own.\nTill now my folly-blinded eyes\nThee, hero, failed to recognize.\nHappy Kau\u015baly\u00e1! blest to be\nThe mother of a son like thee!\nI know thee well, O chieftain, now:\nR\u00e1ma, the prince of men, art thou.\nThere stands the high-born Maithil dame,\nThere Lakshma\u1e47, lord of mighty fame.\nMy name was Tumburu,(408) for song\nRenowned among the minstrel throng:\nCursed by Kuvera\u2019s stern decree\nI wear the hideous shape you see.\nBut when I sued, his grace to crave,\nThe glorious God this answer gave:\n\u201cWhen R\u00e1ma, Da\u015baratha\u2019s son,\nDestroys thee and the fight is won,\nThy proper shape once more assume,\nAnd heaven again shall give thee room.\u201d\nWhen thus the angry God replied,\nNo prayers could turn his wrath aside,\nAnd thus on me his fury fell\nFor loving Rambh\u00e1\u2019s(409) charms too well.\nNow through thy favour am I freed\nFrom the stern fate the God decreed,\nAnd saved, O tamer of the foe,\nBy thee, to heaven again shall go.\nA league, O Prince, beyond this spot\nStands holy \u015aarabhanga\u2019s cot:\nThe very sun is not more bright\nThan that most glorious anchorite:\nTo him, O R\u00e1ma, quickly turn,\nAnd blessings from the hermit earn.\nFirst under earth my body throw,\nThen on thy way rejoicing go.\nSuch is the law ordained of old\nFor giants when their days are told:\nTheir bodies laid in earth, they rise\nTo homes eternal in the skies.\u201d\n\n  Thus, by the rankling dart oppressed,\nKakutstha\u2019s offspring he addressed:\nIn earth his mighty body lay,\nHis spirit fled to heaven away.\n\n  Thus spake Vir\u00e1dha ere he died;\nAnd R\u00e1ma to his brother cried:\n\u201cNow dig we in this grove a pit\nHis elephantine bulk to fit.\nAnd let the hollowed earth enfold\nThis mighty giant fierce and bold.\u201d\n\n  This said, the valiant hero put\nUpon the giant\u2019s neck his foot.\nHis spade obedient Lakshma\u1e47 plied,\nAnd dug a pit both deep and wide\nBy lofty souled Vir\u00e1dha\u2019s side.\nThen Raghu\u2019s son his foot withdrew,\nAnd down the mighty form they threw;\nOne awful shout of joy he gave\nAnd sank into the open grave.\nThe heroes, to their purpose true,\nIn fight the cruel demon slew,\n  And radiant with delight\nDeep in the hollowed earth they cast\nThe monster roaring to the last,\n  In their resistless might.\nThus when they saw the warrior\u2019s steel\nNo life-destroying blow might deal,\n  The pair, for lore renowned,\nDeep in the pit their hands had made\nThe unresisting giant laid,\n  And killed him neath the ground.\nUpon himself the monster brought\nFrom R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand the death he sought\n  With strong desire to gain:\nAnd thus the rover of the night\nTold R\u00e1ma, as they strove in fight,\nThat swords might rend and arrows smite\n  Upon his breast in vain.\nThus R\u00e1ma, when his speech he heard,\nThe giant\u2019s mighty form interred,\n  Which mortal arms defied.\nWith thundering crash the giant fell,\nAnd rock and cave and forest dell\n  With echoing roar replied.\nThe princes, when their task was done\nAnd freedom from the peril won,\n  Rejoiced to see him die.\nThen in the boundless wood they strayed,\nLike the great sun and moon displayed\n  Triumphant in the sky.(410)\n\n\n\n\nCanto V. Sarabhanga.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, having slain in fight\nVir\u00e1dha of terrific might,\nWith gentle words his spouse consoled,\nAnd clasped her in his loving hold.\nThen to his brother nobly brave\nThe valiant prince his counsel gave:\n\u201cWild are these woods around us spread;\nAnd hard and rough the ground to tread:\nWe, O my brother, ne\u2019er have viewed\nSo dark and drear a solitude:\nTo \u015aarabhanga let us haste,\nWhom wealth of holy works has graced.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spoke, and took the road\nTo \u015aarabhanga\u2019s pure abode.\nBut near that saint whose lustre vied\nWith Gods, by penance purified,\nWith startled eyes the prince beheld\nA wondrous sight unparalleled.\nIn splendour like the fire and sun\nHe saw a great and glorious one.\nUpon a noble car he rode,\nAnd many a God behind him glowed:\nAnd earth beneath his feet unpressed(411)\nThe monarch of the skies confessed.\nAblaze with gems, no dust might dim\nThe bright attire that covered him.\nArrayed like him, on every side\nHigh saints their master glorified.\nNear, borne in air, appeared in view\nHis car which tawny coursers drew,\nLike silver cloud, the moon, or sun\nEre yet the day is well begun.\nWreathed with gay garlands, o\u2019er his head\nA pure white canopy was spread,\nAnd lovely nymphs stood nigh to hold\nFair chouris with their sticks of gold,\nWhich, waving in each gentle hand,\nThe forehead of their monarch fanned.\nGod, saint, and bard, a radiant ring,\nSang glory to their heavenly King:\nForth into joyful lauds they burst\nAs Indra with the sage conversed.\nThen R\u00e1ma, when his wondering eyes\nBeheld the monarch of the skies,\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 quickly called, and showed\nThe car wherein Lord Indra rode:\n\u201cSee, brother, see that air-borne car,\nWhose wondrous glory shines afar:\nWherefrom so bright a lustre streams\nThat like a falling sun it seems:\nThese are the steeds whose fame we know,\nOf heavenly race through heaven they go:\nThese are the steeds who bear the yoke\nOf \u015aakra,(412) Him whom all invoke.\nBehold these youths, a glorious band,\nToward every wind a hundred stand:\nA sword in each right hand is borne,\nAnd rings of gold their arms adorn.\nWhat might in every broad deep chest\nAnd club-like arm is manifest!\nClothed in attire of crimson hue\nThey show like tigers fierce to view.\nGreat chains of gold each warder deck,\nGleaming like fire beneath his neck.\nThe age of each fair youth appears\nSome score and five of human years:\nThe ever-blooming prime which they\nWho live in heaven retain for aye:\nSuch mien these lordly beings wear,\nHeroic youths, most bright and fair.\nNow, brother, in this spot, I pray,\nWith the Videhan lady stay,\nTill I have certain knowledge who\nThis being is, so bright to view.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and turning from the spot\nSought \u015aarabhanga\u2019s hermit cot.\nBut when the lord of \u015aach\u00ed(413) saw\nThe son of Raghu near him draw,\nHe hastened of the sage to take\nHis leave, and to his followers spake:\n\n  \u201cSee, R\u00e1ma bends his steps this way,\nBut ere he yet a word can say,\nCome, fly to our celestial sphere;\nIt is not meet he see me here.\nSoon victor and triumphant he\nIn fitter time shall look on me.\nBefore him still a great emprise,\nA task too hard for others, lies.\u201d\n\n  Then with all marks of honour high\nThe Thunderer bade the saint good-bye,\nAnd in his car which coursers drew\nAway to heaven the conqueror flew.\nThen R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, and the dame,\nTo \u015aarabhanga nearer came,\nWho sat beside the holy flame.\nBefore the ancient sage they bent,\nAnd clasped his feet most reverent;\nThen at his invitation found\nA seat beside him on the ground.\nThen R\u00e1ma prayed the sage would deign\nLord Indra\u2019s visit to explain;\nAnd thus at length the holy man\nIn answer to his prayer began:\n\n  \u201cThis Lord of boons has sought me here\nTo waft me hence to Brahm\u00e1\u2019s sphere,\nWon by my penance long and stern,\u2014\nA home the lawless ne\u2019er can earn.\nBut when I knew that thou wast nigh,\nTo Brahm\u00e1\u2019s world I could not fly\nUntil these longing eyes were blest\nWith seeing thee, mine honoured guest.\nSince thou, O Prince, hast cheered my sight,\nGreat-hearted lover of the right,\nTo heavenly spheres will I repair\nAnd bliss supreme that waits me there.\nFor I have won, dear Prince, my way\nTo those fair worlds which ne\u2019er decay,\nCelestial seat of Brahm\u00e1\u2019s reign:\nBe thine, with me, those worlds to gain.\u201d\n\n  Then master of all sacred lore,\nSpake R\u00e1ma to the saint once more:\n\n  \u201cI, even I, illustrious sage,\nWill make those worlds mine heritage:\nBut now, I pray, some home assign\nWithin this holy grove of thine.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma, Indra\u2019s peer in might,\nAddressed the aged anchorite:\nAnd he, with wisdom well endued,\nTo Raghu\u2019s son his speech renewed:\n\n  \u201cSut\u00edksh\u1e47a\u2019s woodland home is near,\nA glorious saint of life austere,\nTrue to the path of duty; he\nWith highest bliss will prosper thee.\nAgainst the stream thy course must be\nOf this fair brook Mand\u00e1kin\u00ed,\nWhereon light rafts like blossoms glide;\nThen to his cottage turn aside.\nThere lies thy path: but ere thou go,\nLook on me, dear one, till I throw\nAside this mould that girds me in,\nAs casts the snake his withered skin.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, the fire in order laid\nWith holy oil due offerings made,\nAnd \u015aarabhanga, glorious sire,\nLaid down his body in the fire.\nThen rose the flame above his head,\nOn skin, blood, flesh, and bones it fed,\nTill forth, transformed, with radiant hue\nOf tender youth, he rose anew,\nFar-shining in his bright attire\nCame \u015aarabhanga from the pyre:\nAbove the home of saints, and those\nWho feed the quenchless flame,(414) he rose:\nBeyond the seat of Gods he passed,\nAnd Brahm\u00e1\u2019s sphere was gained at last.\nThe noblest of the twice-born race,\nFor holy works supreme in place,\nThe Mighty Father there beheld\nGirt round by hosts unparalleled;\nAnd Brahm\u00e1 joying at the sight\nWelcomed the glorious anchorite.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Promise.\n\n\nWhen he his heavenly home had found,\nThe holy men who dwelt around\nTo R\u00e1ma flocked, whose martial fame\nShone glorious as the kindled flame:\nVaikh\u00e1nasas(415) who love the wild,\nPure hermits B\u00e1lakhilyas(416) styled,\nGood Sampraksh\u00e1las,(417) saints who live\nOn rays which moon and daystar give:\nThose who with leaves their lives sustain\nAnd those who pound with stones their grain:\nAnd they who lie in pools, and those\nWhose corn, save teeth, no winnow knows:\nThose who for beds the cold earth use,\nAnd those who every couch refuse:\nAnd those condemned to ceaseless pains,\nWhose single foot their weight sustains:\nAnd those who sleep neath open skies,\nWhose food the wave or air supplies,\nAnd hermits pure who spend their nights\nOn ground prepared for sacred rites;\nThose who on hills their vigil hold,\nOr dripping clothes around them fold:\nThe devotees who live for prayer,\nOr the five fires(418) unflinching bear.\nOn contemplation all intent,\nWith light that heavenly knowledge lent,\nThey came to R\u00e1ma, saint and sage,\nIn \u015aarabhanga\u2019s hermitage.\nThe hermit crowd around him pressed,\nAnd thus the virtuous chief addressed:\n\u201cThe lordship of the earth is thine,\nO Prince of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line.\nLord of the Gods is Indra, so\nThou art our lord and guide below.\nThy name, the glory of thy might,\nThroughout the triple world are bright:\nThy filial love so nobly shown,\nThy truth and virtue well are known.\nTo thee, O lord, for help we fly,\nAnd on thy love of right rely:\nWith kindly patience hear us speak,\nAnd grant the boon we humbly seek.\nThat lord of earth were most unjust,\nFoul traitor to his solemn trust,\nWho should a sixth of all(419) require,\nNor guard his people like a sire.\nBut he who ever watchful strives\nTo guard his subjects\u2019 wealth and lives,\nDear as himself or, dearer still,\nHis sons, with earnest heart and will,\u2014\nThat king, O Raghu\u2019s son, secures\nHigh fame that endless years endures,\nAnd he to Brahm\u00e1\u2019s world shall rise,\nMade glorious in the eternal skies.\nWhate\u2019er, by duty won, the meed\nOf saints whom roots and berries feed,\nOne fourth thereof, for tender care\nOf subjects, is the monarch\u2019s share.\nThese, mostly of the Br\u00e1hman race,\nWho make the wood their dwelling-place,\nAlthough a friend in thee they view,\nFall friendless neath the giant crew.\nCome, R\u00e1ma, come, and see hard by\nThe holy hermits\u2019 corpses lie,\nWhere many a tangled pathway shows\nThe murderous work of cruel foes.\nThese wicked fiends the hermits kill\u2014\nWho live on Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s hill,\nAnd blood of slaughtered saints has dyed\nMand\u00e1kin\u00ed and Pamp\u00e1\u2019s side.\nNo longer can we bear to see\nThe death of saint and devotee\nWhom through the forest day by day\nThese R\u00e1kshasas unpitying slay.\nTo thee, O Prince, we flee, and crave\nThy guardian help our lives to save.\nFrom these fierce rovers of the night\nDefend each stricken anchorite.\nThroughout the world \u2019twere vain to seek\nAn arm like thine to aid the weak.\nO Prince, we pray thee hear our call,\nAnd from these fiends preserve us all.\u201d\n\n  The son of Raghu heard the plaint\nOf penance-loving sage and saint,\nAnd the good prince his speech renewed\nTo all the hermit multitude:\n\n  \u201cTo me, O saints, ye need not sue:\nI wait the hests of all of you.\nI by mine own occasion led\nThis mighty forest needs must tread,\nAnd while I keep my sire\u2019s decree\nYour lives from threatening foes will free.\nI hither came of free accord\nTo lend the aid by you implored,\nAnd richest meed my toil shall pay,\nWhile here in forest shades I stay.\nI long in battle strife to close.\nAnd slay these fiends, the hermits\u2019 foes,\nThat saint and sage may learn aright\nMy prowess and my brother\u2019s might.\u201d\n\n  Thus to the saints his promise gave\nThat prince who still to virtue clave\n  With never-wandering thought:\nAnd then with Lakshma\u1e47 by his side,\nWith penance-wealthy men to guide,\n  Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a\u2019s home he sought.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VII. Sut\u00edkshna.\n\n\nSo Raghu\u2019s son, his foemen\u2019s dread,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 and his brother sped,\nGirt round by many a twice-born sage,\nTo good Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a\u2019s hermitage.(420)\nThrough woods for many a league he passed,\nO\u2019er rushing rivers full and fast,\nUntil a mountain fair and bright\nAs lofty Meru rose in sight.\nWithin its belt of varied wood\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s sons and S\u00edt\u00e1 stood,\nWhere trees of every foliage bore\nBlossom and fruit in endless store.\nThere coats of bark, like garlands strung,\nBefore a lonely cottage hung,\nAnd there a hermit, dust-besmeared,\nA lotus on his breast, appeared.\nThen R\u00e1ma with obeisance due\nAddressed the sage, as near he drew:\n\u201cMy name is R\u00e1ma, lord; I seek\nThy presence, saint, with thee to speak.\nO sage, whose merits ne\u2019er decay,\nSome word unto thy servant say.\u201d\n\n  The sage his eyes on R\u00e1ma bent,\nOf virtue\u2019s friends pre\u00ebminent;\nThen words like these he spoke, and pressed\nThe son of Raghu to his breast:\n\u201cWelcome to thee, illustrious youth,\nBest champion of the rights of truth!\nBy thine approach this holy ground\nA worthy lord this day has found.\nI could not quit this mortal frame\nTill thou shouldst come, O dear to fame:\nTo heavenly spheres I would not rise,\nExpecting thee with eager eyes.\nI knew that thou, unkinged, hadst made\nThy home in Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s shade.\nE\u2019en now, O R\u00e1ma, Indra, lord\nSupreme by all the Gods adored,\nKing of the Hundred Offerings,(421) said,\nWhen he my dwelling visited,\nThat the good works that I have done\nMy choice of all the worlds have won.\nAccept this meed of holy vows,\nAnd with thy brother and thy spouse,\nRoam, through my favour, in the sky\nWhich saints celestial glorify.\u201d\n\n  To that bright sage, of penance stern,\nThe high-souled R\u00e1ma spake in turn,\nAs V\u00e1sava(422) who rules the skies\nTo Brahm\u00e1\u2019s gracious speech replies:\n\u201cI of myself those worlds will win,\nO mighty hermit pure from sin:\nBut now, O saint, I pray thee tell\nWhere I within this wood may dwell:\nFor I by \u015aarabhanga old,\nThe son of Gautama, was told\nThat thou in every lore art wise,\nAnd seest all with loving eyes.\u201d\n\n  Thus to the saint, whose glories high\nFilled all the world, he made reply:\nAnd thus again the holy man\nHis pleasant speech with joy began:\n\u201cThis calm retreat, O Prince, is blest\nWith many a charm: here take thy rest.\nHere roots and kindly fruits abound,\nAnd hermits love the holy ground.\nFair silvan beasts and gentle deer\nIn herds unnumbered wander here:\nAnd as they roam, secure from harm,\nOur eyes with grace and beauty charm:\nExcept the beasts in thickets bred,\nThis grove of ours has naught to dread.\u201d\n\n  The hermit\u2019s speech when R\u00e1ma heard,\u2014\nThe hero ne\u2019er by terror stirred,\u2014\nOn his great bow his hand he laid,\nAnd thus in turn his answer made:\n\u201cO saint, my darts of keenest steel,\nArmed with their murderous barbs, would deal\nDestruction mid the silvan race\nThat flocks around thy dwelling-place.\nMost wretched then my fate would be\nFor such dishonour shown to thee:\nAnd only for the briefest stay\nWould I within this grove delay.\u201d\n\n  He spoke and ceased. With pious care\nHe turned him to his evening prayer,\nPerformed each customary rite,\nAnd sought his lodging for the night,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 and his brother laid\nBeneath the grove\u2019s delightful shade,\nFirst good Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a, as elsewhere, when he saw\nThe shades of night around them draw,\n  With hospitable care\nThe princely chieftains entertained\nWith store of choicest food ordained\n  For holy hermit\u2019s fare.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VIII. The Hermitage.\n\n\nSo R\u00e1ma and Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son,\nWhen every honour due was done,\nSlept through the night. When morning broke,\nThe heroes from their rest awoke.\nBetimes the son of Raghu rose,\nWith gentle S\u00edt\u00e1, from repose,\nAnd sipped the cool delicious wave\nSweet with the scent the lotus gave,\nThen to the Gods and sacred flame\nThe heroes and the lady came,\nAnd bent their heads in honour meet\nWithin the hermit\u2019s pure retreat.\nWhen every stain was purged away,\nThey saw the rising Lord of Day:\nThen to Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a\u2019s side they went,\nAnd softly spoke, most reverent:\n\n  \u201cWell have we slept, O holy lord,\nHonoured of thee by all adored:\nNow leave to journey forth we pray:\nThese hermits urge us on our way.\nWe haste to visit, wandering by,\nThe ascetics\u2019 homes that round you lie,\nAnd roaming Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s mighty wood\nTo view each saintly brotherhood,\nFor thy permission now we sue,\nWith these high saints to duty true,\nBy penance taught each sense to tame,\u2014\nIn lustre like the smokeless flame.\nEre on our brows the sun can beat\nWith fierce intolerable heat.\nLike some unworthy lord who wins\nHis power by tyranny and sins,\nO saint, we fain would part.\u201d The three\nBent humbly to the devotee.\nHe raised the princes as they pressed\nHis feet, and strained them to his breast;\nAnd then the chief of devotees\nBespake them both in words like these:\n\u201cGo with thy brother, R\u00e1ma, go,\nPursue thy path untouched by woe:\nGo with thy faithful S\u00edt\u00e1, she\nStill like a shadow follows thee.\nRoam Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood observing well\nThe pleasant homes where hermits dwell,\u2014\nPure saints whose ordered souls adhere\nTo penance rites and vows austere.\nThere plenteous roots and berries grow,\nAnd noble trees their blossoms show,\nAnd gentle deer and birds of air\nIn peaceful troops are gathered there.\nThere see the full-blown lotus stud\nThe bosom of the lucid flood,\nAnd watch the joyous mallard shake\nThe reeds that fringe the pool and lake.\nSee with delighted eye the rill\nLeap sparkling from her parent hill,\nAnd hear the woods that round thee lie\nRe\u00ebcho to the peacock\u2019s cry.\nAnd as I bid thy brother, so,\nSumitr\u00e1\u2019s child, I bid thee go.\nGo forth, these varied beauties see,\nAnd then once more return to me.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the sage Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a: both\nThe chiefs assented, nothing loth,\nRound him with circling steps they paced,\nThen for the road prepared with haste.\nThere S\u00edt\u00e1 stood, the dame long-eyed,\nFair quivers round their waists she tied,\nAnd gave each prince his trusty bow,\nAnd sword which ne\u2019er a spot might know.\nEach took his quiver from her hand.\nAnd clanging bow and gleaming brand:\nThen from the hermits\u2019 home the two\nWent forth each woodland scene to view.\nEach beauteous in the bloom of age,\nDismissed by that illustrious sage,\nWith bow and sword accoutred, hied\nAway, and S\u00edt\u00e1 by their side.\n\n\n\n\nCanto IX. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nBlest by the sage, when Raghu\u2019s son\nHis onward journey had begun,\nThus in her soft tone S\u00edt\u00e1, meek\nWith modest fear, began to speak:\n\u201cOne little slip the great may lead\nTo shame that follows lawless deed:\nSuch shame, my lord, as still must cling\nTo faults from low desire that spring.\nThree several sins defile the soul,\nBorn of desire that spurns control:\nFirst, utterance of a lying word,\nThen, viler both, the next, and third:\nThe lawless love of other\u2019s wife,\nThe thirst of blood uncaused by strife.\nThe first, O Raghu\u2019s son, in thee\nNone yet has found, none e\u2019er shall see.\nLove of another\u2019s dame destroys\nAll merit, lost for guilty joys:\nR\u00e1ma, such crime in thee, I ween,\nHas ne\u2019er been found, shall ne\u2019er be seen:\nThe very thought, my princely lord,\nIs in thy secret soul abhorred.\nFor thou hast ever been the same\nFond lover of thine own dear dame,\nContent with faithful heart to do\nThy father\u2019s will, most just and true:\nJustice, and faith, and many a grace\nIn thee have found a resting-place.\nSuch virtues, Prince, the good may gain\nWho empire o\u2019er each sense retain;\nAnd well canst thou, with loving view\nRegarding all, each sense subdue.\nBut for the third, the lust that strives,\nInsatiate still, for others\u2019 lives,\u2014\nFond thirst of blood where hate is none,\u2014\nThis, O my lord, thou wilt not shun.\nThou hast but now a promise made,\nThe saints of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood to aid:\nAnd to protect their lives from ill\nThe giants\u2019 blood in tight wilt spill:\nAnd from thy promise lasting fame\nWill glorify the forest\u2019s name.\nArmed with thy bow and arrows thou\nForth with thy brother journeyest now,\nWhile as I think how true thou art\nFears for thy bliss assail my heart,\nAnd all my spirit at the sight\nIs troubled with a strange affright.\nI like it not\u2014it seems not good\u2014\nThy going thus to Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood:\nAnd I, if thou wilt mark me well,\nThe reason of my fear will tell.\nThou with thy brother, bow in hand,\nBeneath those ancient trees wilt stand,\nAnd thy keen arrows will not spare\nWood-rovers who will meet thee there.\nFor as the fuel food supplies\nThat bids the dormant flame arise,\nThus when the warrior grasps his bow\nHe feels his breast with ardour glow.\nDeep in a holy grove, of yore,\nWhere bird and beast from strife forbore,\n\u015auchi beneath the sheltering boughs,\nA truthful hermit kept his vows.\nThen Indra, \u015aach\u00ed\u2019s heavenly lord,\nArmed like a warrior with a sword,\nCame to his tranquil home to spoil\nThe hermit of his holy toil,\nAnd left the glorious weapon there\nEntrusted to the hermit\u2019s care,\nA pledge for him to keep, whose mind\nTo fervent zeal was all resigned.\nHe took the brand: with utmost heed\nHe kept it for the warrior\u2019s need:\nTo keep his trust he fondly strove\nWhen roaming in the neighbouring grove:\nWhene\u2019er for roots and fruit he strayed\nStill by his side he bore the blade:\nStill on his sacred charge intent,\nHe took his treasure when he went.\nAs day by day that brand he wore,\nThe hermit, rich in merit\u2019s store\nFrom penance rites each thought withdrew,\nAnd fierce and wild his spirit grew.\nWith heedless soul he spurned the right,\nAnd found in cruel deeds delight.\nSo, living with the sword, he fell,\nA ruined hermit, down to hell.\nThis tale applies to those who deal\nToo closely with the warrior\u2019s steel:\nThe steel to warriors is the same\nAs fuel to the smouldering flame.\nSincere affection prompts my speech:\nI honour where I fain would teach.\nMayst thou, thus armed with shaft and bow,\nSo dire a longing never know\nAs, when no hatred prompts the fray,\nThese giants of the wood to slay:\nFor he who kills without offence\nShall win but little glory thence.\nThe bow the warrior joys to bend\nIs lent him for a nobler end,\nThat he may save and succour those\nWho watch in woods when pressed by foes.\nWhat, matched with woods, is bow or steel?\nWhat, warrior\u2019s arm with hermit\u2019s zeal?\nWe with such might have naught to do:\nThe forest rule should guide us too.\nBut when Ayodhy\u00e1 hails thee lord,\nBe then thy warrior life restored:\nSo shall thy sire(423) and mother joy\nIn bliss that naught may e\u2019er destroy.\nAnd if, resigning empire, thou\nSubmit thee to the hermit\u2019s vow,\nThe noblest gain from virtue springs,\nAnd virtue joy unending brings.\nAll earthly blessings virtue sends:\nOn virtue all the world depends.\nThose who with vow and fasting tame\nTo due restraint the mind and frame,\nWin by their labour, nobly wise,\nThe highest virtue for their prize.\nPure in the hermit\u2019s grove remain,\nTrue to thy duty, free from stain.\nBut the three worlds are open thrown\nTo thee, by whom all things are known.\nWho gave me power that I should dare\nHis duty to my lord declare?\n\u2019Tis woman\u2019s fancy, light as air,\n  That moves my foolish breast.\nNow with thy brother counsel take,\nReflect, thy choice with judgment make,\n  And do what seems the best.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto X. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Reply.\n\n\nThe words that S\u00edt\u00e1 uttered, spurred\nBy truest love, the hero heard:\nThen he who ne\u2019er from virtue strayed\nTo Janak\u2019s child his answer made:\n\u201cIn thy wise speech, sweet love, I find\nTrue impress of thy gentle mind,\nWell skilled the warrior\u2019s path to trace,\nThou pride of Janak\u2019s ancient race.\nWhat fitting answer shall I frame\nTo thy good words, my honoured dame?\nThou sayst the warrior bears the bow\nThat misery\u2019s tears may cease to flow;\nAnd those pure saints who love the shade\nOf Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood are sore dismayed.\nThey sought me of their own accord,\nWith suppliant prayers my aid implored:\nThey, fed on roots and fruit, who spend\nTheir lives where bosky wilds extend,\nMy timid love, enjoy no rest\nBy these malignant fiends distressed.\nThese make the flesh of man their meat:\nThe helpless saints they kill and eat.\nThe hermits sought my side, the chief\nOf Br\u00e1hman race declared their grief.\nI heard, and from my lips there fell\nThe words which thou rememberest well:\nI listened as the hermits cried,\nAnd to their prayers I thus replied:\n\n  \u201cYour favour, gracious lords, I claim,\nO\u2019erwhelmed with this enormous shame\nThat Br\u00e1hmans, great and pure as you,\nWho should be sought, to me should sue.\u201d\nAnd then before the saintly crowd,\n\u201cWhat can I do?\u201d I cried aloud.\nThen from the trembling hermits broke\nOne long sad cry, and thus they spoke:\n\u201cFiends of the wood, who wear at will\nEach varied shape, afflict us still.\nTo thee in our distress we fly:\nO help us, R\u00e1ma, or we die.\nWhen sacred rites of fire are due,\nWhen changing moons are full or new,\nThese fiends who bleeding flesh devour\nAssail us with resistless power.\nThey with their cruel might torment\nThe hermits on their vows intent:\nWe look around for help and see\nOur surest refuge, Prince, in thee.\nWe, armed with powers of penance, might\nDestroy the rovers of the night:\nBut loth were we to bring to naught\nThe merit years of toil have bought.\nOur penance rites are grown too hard,\nBy many a check and trouble barred,\nBut though our saints for food are slain\nThe withering curse we yet restrain.\nThus many a weary day distressed\nBy giants who this wood infest,\nWe see at length deliverance, thou\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 art our guardian now.\u201d\n\n  As thus the troubled hermits prayed,\nI promised, dame, my ready aid,\nAnd now\u2014for truth I hold most dear\u2014\nStill to my word must I adhere.\nMy love, I might endure to be\nDeprived of Lakshma\u1e47, life, and thee,\nBut ne\u2019er deny my promise, ne\u2019er\nTo Br\u00e1hmans break the oath I sware.\nI must, enforced by high constraint,\nProtect them all. Each suffering saint\nIn me, unasked, his help had found;\nStill more in one by promise bound.\nI know thy words, mine own dear dame,\nFrom thy sweet heart\u2019s affection came:\nI thank thee for thy gentle speech,\nFor those we love are those we teach.\n\u2019Tis like thyself, O fair of face,\n\u2019Tis worthy of thy noble race:\nDearer than life, thy feet are set\nIn righteous paths they ne\u2019er forget.\u201d\n\n  Thus to the Maithil monarch\u2019s child,\nHis own dear wife, in accents mild\n    The high-souled hero said:\nThen to the holy groves which lay\nBeyond them fair to see, their way\n    The bow-armed chieftain led.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XI. Agastya.\n\n\nR\u00e1ma went foremost of the three,\nNext S\u00edt\u00e1, followed, fair to see,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 with his bow in hand\nWalked hindmost of the little band.\nAs onward through the wood they went,\nWith great delight their eyes were bent\nOn rocky heights beside the way\nAnd lofty trees with blossoms gay;\nAnd streamlets running fair and fast\nThe royal youths with S\u00edt\u00e1 passed.\nThey watched the s\u00e1ras and the drake\nOn islets of the stream and lake,\nAnd gazed delighted on the floods\nBright with gay birds and lotus buds.\nThey saw in startled herds the roes,\nThe passion-frenzied buffaloes,\nWild elephants who fiercely tore\nThe tender trees, and many a boar.\nA length of woodland way they passed,\nAnd when the sun was low at last\nA lovely stream-fed lake they spied,\nTwo leagues across from side to side.\nTall elephants fresh beauty gave\nTo grassy bank and lilied wave,\nBy many a swan and s\u00e1ras stirred,\nMallard, and gay-winged water-bird.\nFrom those sweet waters, loud and long,\nThough none was seen to wake the song,\nSwelled high the singer\u2019s music blent\nWith each melodious instrument.\nR\u00e1ma and car-borne Lakshma\u1e47 heard\nThe charming strain, with wonder stirred,\nTurned on the margent of the lake\nTo Dharmabhrit(424) the sage, and spake:\n\n  \u201cOur longing souls, O hermit, burn\nThis music of the lake to learn:\nWe pray thee, noblest sage, explain\nThe cause of the mysterious strain.\u201d\nHe, as the son of Raghu prayed,\nWith swift accord his answer made,\nAnd thus the hermit, virtuous-souled,\nThe story of the fair lake told:\n\n  \u201cThrough every age \u2019tis known to fame,\nPanch\u00e1psaras(425) its glorious name,\nBy holy M\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0dakar\u1e47i wrought\nWith power his rites austere had bought.\nFor he, great votarist, intent\nOn strictest rule his stern life spent.\nTen thousand years the stream his bed,\nTen thousand years on air he fed.\nThen on the blessed Gods who dwell\nIn heavenly homes great terror fell:\nThey gathered all, by Agni led,\nAnd counselled thus disquieted:\n\u201cThe hermit by ascetic pain\nThe seat of one of us would gain.\u201d\nThus with their hearts by fear oppressed\nIn full assembly spoke the Blest,\nAnd bade five loveliest nymphs, as fair\nAs lightning in the evening air,\nArmed with their winning wiles, seduce\nFrom his stern vows the great recluse.\nThough lore of earth and heaven he knew,\nThe hermit from his task they drew,\nAnd made the great ascetic slave\nTo conquering love, the Gods to save.\nEach of the heavenly five became,\nBound to the sage, his wedded dame;\nAnd he, for his beloved\u2019s sake,\nFormed a fair palace neath the lake.\nUnder the flood the ladies live,\nTo joy and ease their days they give,\nAnd lap in bliss the hermit wooed\nFrom penance rites to youth renewed.\nSo when the sportive nymphs within\nThose secret bowers their play begin,\nYou hear the singers\u2019 dulcet tones\nBlend sweetly with their tinkling zones.\u201d\n\n  \u201cHow wondrous are these words of thine!\u201d\nCried the famed chiefs of Raghu\u2019s line,\nAs thus they heard the sage unfold\nThe marvels of the tale he told.\n\n  As R\u00e1ma spake, his eyes were bent\nUpon a hermit settlement\nWith light of heavenly lore endued,\nWith sacred grass and vesture strewed.\nHis wife and brother by his side,\nWithin the holy bounds he hied,\nAnd there, with honour entertained\nBy all the saints, a while remained.\nIn time, by due succession led,\nEach votary\u2019s cot he visited,\nAnd then the lord of martial lore,\nReturned where he had lodged before.\nHere for the months, content, he stayed,\nThere for a year his visit paid:\nHere for four months his home would fix,\nThere, as it chanced, for five or six.\nHere for eight months and there for three\nThe son of Raghu\u2019s stay would be:\nHere weeks, there fortnights, more or less,\nHe spent in tranquil happiness.\nAs there the hero dwelt at ease\nAmong those holy devotees,\nIn days untroubled o\u2019er his head\nTen circling years of pleasure fled.\nSo Raghu\u2019s son in duty trained\nA while in every cot remained,\nThen with his dame retraced the road\nTo good Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a\u2019s calm abode.\nHailed by the saints with honours due\nNear to the hermit\u2019s home he drew,\nAnd there the tamer of his foes\nDwelt for a time in sweet repose.\nOne day within that holy wood\nBy saint Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a R\u00e1ma stood,\nAnd thus the prince with reverence meek\nTo that high sage began to speak:\n\n  \u201cIn the wide woodlands that extend\nAround us, lord most reverend,\nAs frequent voice of rumour tells,\nAgastya, saintliest hermit, dwells.\nSo vast the wood, I cannot trace\nThe path to reach his dwelling place,\nNor, searching unassisted, find\nThat hermit of the thoughtful mind.\nI with my wife and brother fain\nWould go, his favour to obtain,\nWould seek him in his lone retreat\nAnd the great saint with reverence greet.\nThis one desire, O Master, long\nCherished within my heart, is strong,\nThat I may pay of free accord\nMy duty to that hermit lord.\u201d\n\n  As thus the prince whose heart was bent\nOn virtue told his firm intent,\nThe good Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a\u2019s joy rose high,\nAnd thus in turn he made reply:\n\u201cThe very thing, O Prince, which thou\nHast sought, I wished to urge but now,\nBid thee with wife and brother see\nAgastya, glorious devotee.\nI count this thing an omen fair\nThat thou shouldst thus thy wish declare,\nAnd I, my Prince, will gladly teach\nThe way Agastya\u2019s home to reach.\nSouthward, dear son, direct thy feet\nEight leagues beyond this still retreat:\nAgastya\u2019s hermit brother there\nDwells in a home most bright and fair.\n\u2019Tis on a knoll of woody ground,\nWith many a branching Pippal(426) crowned:\nThere sweet birds\u2019 voices ne\u2019er are mute,\nAnd trees are gay with flower and fruit.\nThere many a lake gleams bright and cool,\nAnd lilies deck each pleasant pool,\nWhile swan, and crane, and mallard\u2019s wings\nAre lovely in the water-springs.\nThere for one night, O R\u00e1ma, stay,\nAnd with the dawn pursue thy way.\nStill farther, bending southward, by\nThe thicket\u2019s edge the course must lie,\nAnd thou wilt see, two leagues from thence\nAgastya\u2019s lovely residence,\nSet in the woodland\u2019s fairest spot,\nAll varied foliage decks the cot:\nThere S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47 thou, at ease\nMay spend sweet hours neath shady trees,\nFor all of noblest growth are found\nLuxuriant on that bosky ground.\nIf it be still thy firm intent\nTo see that saint pre\u00ebminent,\nO mighty counsellor, this day\nDepart upon thine onward way.\u201d\n\n  The hermit spake, and R\u00e1ma bent\nHis head, with Lakshma\u1e47, reverent,\nAnd then with him and Janak\u2019s child\nSet out to trace the forest wild.\nHe saw dark woods that fringed the road,\nAnd distant hills like clouds that showed,\nAnd, as the way he followed, met\nWith many a lake and rivulet.\nSo passing on with ease where led\nThe path Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a bade him tread,\nThe hero with exulting breast\nHis brother in these words addressed:\n\n  \u201cHere, surely, is the home, in sight,\nOf that illustrious anchorite:\nHere great Agastya\u2019s brother leads\nA life intent on holy deeds.\nWarned of each guiding mark and sign,\nI see them all herein combine:\nI see the branches bending low\nBeneath the flowers and fruit they show.\nA soft air from the forest springs,\nFresh from the odorous grass, and brings\nA spicy fragrance as it flees\nO\u2019er the ripe fruit of Pippal trees.\nSee, here and there around us high\nPiled up in heaps cleft billets lie,\nAnd holy grass is gathered, bright\nAs strips of shining lazulite.\nFull in the centre of the shade\nThe hermits\u2019 holy fire is laid:\nI see its smoke the pure heaven streak\nDense as a big cloud\u2019s dusky peak.\nThe twice-born men their steps retrace\nFrom each sequestered bathing-place,\nAnd each his sacred gift has brought\nOf blossoms which his hands have sought.\nOf all these signs, dear brother, each\nAgrees with good Sut\u00edksh\u1e47a\u2019s speech,\nAnd doubtless in this holy bound\nAgastya\u2019s brother will be found.\nAgastya once, the worlds who viewed\nWith love, a Deathlike fiend subdued,\nAnd armed with mighty power, obtained\nBy holy works, this grove ordained\nTo be a refuge and defence\nFrom all oppressors\u2019 violence.\nIn days of yore within this place\nTwo brothers fierce of demon race,\nV\u00e1t\u00e1pi dire and Ilval, dwelt,\nAnd slaughter mid the Br\u00e1hmans dealt.\nA Br\u00e1hman\u2019s form, the fiend to cloak,\nFierce Ilval wore, and Sanskrit spoke,\nAnd twice-born sages would invite\nTo solemnize some funeral rite.\nHis brother\u2019s flesh, concealed within\nA ram\u2019s false shape and borrowed skin,\u2014\nAs men are wont at funeral feasts,\u2014\nHe dressed and fed those gathered priests.\nThe holy men, unweeting ill,\nTook of the food and ate their fill.\nThen Ilval with a mighty shout\nExclaimed \u201cV\u00e1t\u00e1pi, issue out.\u201d\nSoon as his brother\u2019s voice he heard,\nThe fiend with ram-like bleating stirred:\nRending in pieces every frame,\nForth from the dying priests he came.\nSo they who changed their forms at will\nThousands of Br\u00e1hmans dared to kill,\u2014\nFierce fiends who loved each cruel deed,\nAnd joyed on bleeding flesh to feed.\nAgastya, mighty hermit, pressed\nTo funeral banquet like the rest,\nObedient to the Gods\u2019 appeal\nAte up the monster at a meal.\n\u201c\u2019Tis done, \u2019tis done,\u201d fierce Ilval cried,\nAnd water for his hands supplied:\nThen lifting up his voice he spake:\n\u201cForth, brother, from thy prison break.\u201d\nThen him who called the fiend, who long\nHad wrought the suffering Br\u00e1hmans wrong,\nThus thoughtful-souled Agastya, best\nOf hermits, with a smile addressed:\n\u201cHow, R\u00e1kshas, is the fiend empowered\nTo issue forth whom I devoured?\nThy brother in a ram\u2019s disguise\nIs gone where Y\u00e1ma\u2019s kingdom lies.\u201d\nWhen from the words Agastya said\nHe knew his brother fiend was dead,\nHis soul on fire with vengeful rage,\nRushed the night-rover at the sage.\nOne lightning glance of fury, hot\nAs fire, the glorious hermit shot,\nAs the fiend neared him in his stride,\nAnd straight, consumed to dust, he died.\nIn pity for the Br\u00e1hmans\u2019 plight\nAgastya wrought this deed of might:\nThis grove which lakes and fair trees grace\nIn his great brother\u2019s dwelling place.\u201d\n\n  As R\u00e1ma thus the tale rehearsed,\nAnd with Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son conversed,\nThe setting sun his last rays shed,\nAnd evening o\u2019er the land was spread.\nA while the princely brothers stayed\nAnd even rites in order paid,\nThen to the holy grove they drew\nAnd hailed the saint with honour due.\nWith courtesy was R\u00e1ma met\nBy that illustrious anchoret,\nAnd for one night he rested there\nRegaled with fruit and hermit fare.\nBut when the night had reached its close,\nAnd the sun\u2019s glorious circle rose,\nThe son of Raghu left his bed\nAnd to the hermit\u2019s brother said:\n\u201cWell rested in thy hermit cell,\nI stand, O saint, to bid farewell;\nFor with thy leave I journey hence\nThy brother saint to reverence.\u201d\n\u201cGo, R\u00e1ma go,\u201d the sage replied:\nThen from the cot the chieftain hied.\nAnd while the pleasant grove he viewed,\nThe path the hermit showed, pursued.\nOf every leaf, of changing hue.\nPlants, trees by hundreds round him grew,\nWith joyous eyes he looked on all,\nThen Jak,(427) the wild rice, and S\u00e1l;(428)\nHe saw the red Hibiscus glow,\nHe saw the flower-tipped creeper throw\nThe glory of her clusters o\u2019er\nTall trees that loads of blossom bore.\nSome, elephants had prostrate laid,\nIn some the monkeys leapt and played,\nAnd through the whole wide forest rang\nThe charm of gay birds as they sang.\nThen R\u00e1ma of the lotus eye\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 turned who followed nigh,\nAnd thus the hero youth impressed\nWith Fortune\u2019s favouring signs, addressed:\n\n  \u201cHow soft the leaves of every tree,\nHow tame each bird and beast we see!\nSoon the fair home shall we behold\nOf that great hermit tranquil-souled.\nThe deed the good Agastya wrought\nHigh fame throughout the world has bought:\nI see, I see his calm retreat\nThat balms the pain of weary feet.\nWhere white clouds rise from flames beneath,\nWhere bark-coats lie with many a wreath,\nWhere silvan things, made gentle, throng,\nAnd every bird is loud in song.\nWith ruth for suffering creatures filled,\nA deathlike fiend with might he killed,\nAnd gave this southern realm to be\nA refuge, from oppression free.\nThere stands his home, whose dreaded might\nHas put the giant crew to flight,\nWho view with envious eyes afar\nThe peaceful shades they cannot mar.\nSince that most holy saint has made\nHis dwelling in this lovely shade,\nChecked by his might the giant brood\nHave dwelt in peace with souls subdued.\nAnd all this southern realm, within\nWhose bounds no fiend may entrance win,\nNow bears a name which naught may dim,\nMade glorious through the worlds by him.\nWhen Vindhya, best of hills, would stay\nThe journey of the Lord of Day,\nObedient to the saint\u2019s behest\nHe bowed for aye his humbled crest.\nThat hoary hermit, world-renowned\nFor holy deeds, within this ground\nHas set his pure and blessed home,\nWhere gentle silvan creatures roam.\nAgastya, whom the worlds revere,\nPure saint to whom the good are dear,\nTo us his guests all grace will show,\nEnriched with blessings ere we go.\nI to this aim each thought will turn,\nThe favour of the saint to earn,\nThat here in comfort may be spent\nThe last years of our banishment.\nHere sanctities and high saints stand,\nGods, minstrels of the heavenly band;\nUpon Agastya\u2019s will they wait,\nAnd serve him, pure and temperate.\nThe liar\u2019s tongue, the tyrant\u2019s mind\nWithin these bounds no home may find:\nNo cheat, no sinner here can be:\nSo holy and so good is he.\nHere birds and lords of serpent race,\nSpirits and Gods who haunt the place,\nContent with scanty fare remain,\nAs merit\u2019s meed they strive to gain.\nMade perfect here, the saints supreme,\nOn cars that mock the Day-God\u2019s gleam,\u2014\nTheir mortal bodies cast aside,\u2014\nSought heaven transformed and glorified,\nHere Gods to living things, who win\nTheir favour, pure from cruel sin,\nGive royal rule and many a good,\nImmortal life and spirithood.\nNow, Lakshma\u1e47, we are near the place:\nDo thou precede a little space,\nAnd tell the mighty saint that I\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 at my side am nigh.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XII. The Heavenly Bow.\n\n\nHe spoke: the younger prince obeyed:\nWithin the bounds his way he made,\nAnd thus addressed, whom first he met,\nA pupil of the anchoret:\n\n  \u201cBrave R\u00e1ma, eldest born, who springs,\nFrom Da\u015baratha, hither brings\nHis wife the lady S\u00edt\u00e1: he\nWould fain the holy hermit see.\nLakshma\u1e47 am I\u2014if happy fame\nE\u2019er to thine ears has brought the name\u2014\nHis younger brother, prompt to do\nHis will, devoted, fond, and true.\nWe, through our royal sire\u2019s decree,\nTo the dread woods were forced to flee.\nTell the great Master, I entreat,\nOur earnest wish our lord to greet.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: the hermit rich in store\nOf fervid zeal and sacred lore,\nSought the pure shrine which held the fire,\nTo bear his message to the sire.\nSoon as he reached the saint most bright\nIn sanctity\u2019s surpassing might,\nHe cried, uplifting reverent hands:\n\u201cLord R\u00e1ma near thy cottage stands.\u201d\nThen spoke Agastya\u2019s pupil dear\nThe message for his lord to hear:\n\u201cR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47, chiefs who spring\nFrom Da\u015baratha, glorious king,\nThy hermitage e\u2019en now have sought,\nAnd lady S\u00edt\u00e1 with them brought.\nThe tamers of the foe are here\nTo see thee, Master, and revere.\n\u2019Tis thine thy further will to say:\nDeign to command, and we obey.\u201d\n\n  When from his pupil\u2019s lips he knew\nThe presence of the princely two,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 born to fortune high.\nThe glorious hermit made reply:\n\u201cGreat joy at last is mine this day\nThat R\u00e1ma hither finds his way,\nFor long my soul has yearned to see\nThe prince who comes to visit me.\nGo forth, go forth, and hither bring\nThe royal three with welcoming:\nLead R\u00e1ma in and place him near:\nWhy stands he not already here?\u201d\n\n  Thus ordered by the hermit, who,\nLord of his thought, all duty knew,\nHis reverent hands together laid,\nThe pupil answered and obeyed.\nForth from the place with speed he ran,\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 came and thus began:\n\u201cWhere is he? let not R\u00e1ma wait,\nBut speed, the sage to venerate.\u201d\n\n  Then with the pupil Lakshma\u1e47 went\nAcross the hermit settlement,\nAnd showed him R\u00e1ma where he stood\nWith Janak\u2019s daughter in the wood.\nThe pupil then his message spake\nWhich the kind hermit bade him take;\nThen led the honoured R\u00e1ma thence\nAnd brought him in with reverence.\nAs nigh the royal R\u00e1ma came\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 and the Maithil dame,\nHe viewed the herds of gentle deer\nRoaming the garden free from fear.\nAs through the sacred grove he trod\nHe viewed the seat of many a God,\nBrahm\u00e1 and Agni,(429) Sun and Moon,\nAnd His who sends each golden boon;(430)\nHere Vish\u1e47u\u2019s stood, there Bhaga\u2019s(431) shrine,\nAnd there Mahendra\u2019s, Lord divine;\nHere His who formed this earthly frame,(432)\nHis there from whom all beings came.(433)\nV\u00e1yu\u2019s,(434) and His who loves to hold\nThe great noose, Varu\u1e47(435) mighty-souled:\nHere was the Vasus\u2019(436) shrine to see,\nHere that of sacred G\u00e1yatr\u00ed,(437)\nThe king of serpents(438) here had place,\nAnd he who rules the feathered race.(439)\nHere K\u00e1rtikeya,(440) warrior lord,\nAnd there was Justice King adored.\nThen with disciples girt about\nThe mighty saint himself came out:\nThrough fierce devotion bright as flame\nBefore the rest the Master came:\nAnd then to Lakshma\u1e47, fortune blest,\nR\u00e1ma these hasty words addressed:\n\u201cBehold, Agastya\u2019s self draws near,\nThe mighty saint, whom all revere:\nWith spirit raised I meet my lord\nWith richest wealth of penance stored.\u201d\n\n  The strong-armed hero spake, and ran\nForward to meet the sunbright man.\nBefore him, as he came, he bent\nAnd clasped his feet most reverent,\nThen rearing up his stately height\nStood suppliant by the anchorite,\nWhile Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s strength and S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s grace\nStood by the pride of Raghu\u2019s race.\nThe sage his arms round R\u00e1ma threw\nAnd welcomed him with honours due,\nAsked, was all well, with question sweet,\nAnd bade the hero to a seat.\nWith holy oil he fed the flame,\nHe brought the gifts which strangers claim,\nAnd kindly waiting on the three\nWith honours due to high degree,\nHe gave with hospitable care\nA simple hermit\u2019s woodland fare.\nThen sat the reverend father, first\nOf hermits, deep in duty versed.\nAnd thus to suppliant R\u00e1ma, bred\nIn all the lore of virtue, said:\n\u201cDid the false hermit, Prince, neglect\nTo hail his guest with due respect,\nHe must,\u2014the doom the perjured meet,\u2014\nHis proper flesh hereafter eat.\nA car-borne king, a lord who sways\nThe earth, and virtue\u2019s law obeys,\nWorthy of highest honour, thou\nHast sought, dear guest, my cottage now.\u201d\nHe spoke: with fruit and hermit fare,\nWith every bloom the branches bare,\nAgastya graced his honoured guest,\nAnd thus with gentle words addressed:\n\u201cAccept this mighty bow, divine,\nWhereon red gold and diamonds shine;\n\u2019Twas by the Heavenly Artist planned\nFor Vish\u1e47u\u2019s own almighty hand;\nThis God-sent shaft of sunbright hue,\nWhose deadly flight is ever true,\nBy Lord Mahendra given of yore:\nThis quiver with its endless store.\nKeen arrows hurtling to their aim\nLike kindled fires that flash and flame:\nAccept, in golden sheath encased,\nThis sword with hilt of rich gold graced.\nArmed with this best of bows\nLord Vish\u1e47u slew his demon foes,\nAnd mid the dwellers in the skies\nWon brilliant glory for his prize.\nThe bow, the quivers, shaft, and sword\nReceived from me, O glorious lord:\nThese conquest to thine arm shall bring,\nAs thunder to the thunder\u2019s King.\u201d\n\n  The splendid hermit bade him take\nThe noble weapons as he spake,\nAnd as the prince accepted each\nIn words like these renewed his speech:\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIII. Agastya\u2019s Counsel.\n\n\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, great delight I feel,\nPleased, Lakshma\u1e47, with thy faithful zeal,\nThat you within these shades I see\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 come to honour me.\nBut wandering through the rough rude wild\nHas wearied Janak\u2019s gentle child:\nWith labours of the way oppressed\nThe Maithil lady longs for rest.\nYoung, delicate, and soft, and fair,\nSuch toils as these untrained to bear,\nHer wifely love the dame has led\nThe forest\u2019s troubled ways to tread.\nHere, R\u00e1ma, see that naught annoy\nHer easy hours of tranquil joy:\nA glorious task has she assayed,\nTo follow thee through woodland shade.\nSince first from Nature\u2019s hand she came,\nA woman\u2019s mood is still the same,\nWhen Fortune smiles, her love to show,\nAnd leave her lord in want and woe.\nNo pity then her heart can feel,\nShe arms her soul with warrior\u2019s steel,\nSwift as the storm or Feathered King,\nUncertain as the lightning\u2019s wing.\nNot so thy spouse: her purer mind\nShrinks from the faults of womankind;\nLike chaste Arundhat\u00ed(441) above,\nA paragon of faithful love.\nLet these blest shades, dear R\u00e1ma, be\nA home for Lakshma\u1e47, her, and thee.\u201d\n\n  With raised hands reverently meek\nHe heard the holy hermit speak,\nAnd humbly thus addressed the sire\nWhose glory shone like kindled fire:\n\n  \u201cHow blest am I, what thanks I owe\nThat our great Master deigns to show\nHis favour, that his heart can be\nContent with Lakshma\u1e47, S\u00edt\u00e1, me.\nShow me, I pray, some spot of ground\nWhere thick trees wave and springs abound,\nThat I may raise my hermit cell\nAnd there in tranquil pleasure dwell.\u201d\n\n  Then thus replied Agastya, best\nOf hermits, to the chief\u2019s request:\nWhen for a little he had bent\nHis thoughts, upon that prayer intent:\n\n  \u201cBeloved son, four leagues away\nIs Panchava\u1e6d\u00ed bright and gay:\nThronged with its deer, most fair it looks\nWith berries, fruit, and water-brooks.\nThere build thee with thy brother\u2019s aid\nA cottage in the quiet shade,\nAnd faithful to thy sire\u2019s behest,\nObedient to the sentence, rest.\nFor well, O sinless chieftain, well\nI know thy tale, how all befell:\nStern penance and the love I bore\nThy royal sire supply the lore.\nTo me long rites and fervid zeal\nThe wish that stirs thy heart reveal,\nAnd hence my guest I bade thee be,\nThat this pure grove might shelter thee.\nSo now, thereafter, thus I speak:\nThe shades of Panchava\u1e6d\u00ed seek;\nThat tranquil spot is bright and fair,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 will be happy there.\nNot far remote from here it lies,\nA grove to charm thy loving eyes,\nGod\u00e1var\u00ed\u2019s pure stream is nigh:\nThere S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s days will sweetly fly.\nPure, lovely, rich in many a charm,\nO hero of the mighty arm,\n\u2019Tis gay with every plant and fruit,\nAnd throngs of gay buds never mute.\nThou, true to virtue\u2019s path, hast might\nTo screen each trusting anchorite,\nAnd wilt from thy new home defend\nThe hermits who on thee depend.\nNow yonder, Prince, direct thine eyes\nWhere dense Madh\u00faka(442) woods arise:\nPierce their dark shade, and issuing forth\nTurn to a fig-tree on the north:\nThen onward up a sloping mead\nFlanked by a hill the way will lead:\nThere Panchava\u1e6d\u00ed, ever gay\nWith ceaseless bloom, thy steps will stay.\u201d\n\n  The hermit ceased: the princely two\nWith seemly honours bade adieu:\nWith reverential awe each youth\nBowed to the saint whose word was truth,\nAnd then, dismissed with S\u00edt\u00e1, they\nTo Panchava\u1e6d\u00ed took their way.\nThus when each royal prince had grasped\nHis warrior\u2019s mighty bow, and clasped\n    His quiver to his side,\nWith watchful eyes along the road\nThe glorious saint Agastya showed,\nDauntless in fight the brothers strode,\n    And S\u00edt\u00e1 with them hied.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIV. Jat\u00e1yus.\n\n\nThen as the son of Raghu made\nHis way to Panchava\u1e6d\u00ed\u2019s shade,\nA mighty vulture he beheld\nOf size and strength unparalleled.\nThe princes, when the bird they saw,\nApproached with reverence and awe,\nAnd as his giant form they eyed,\n\u201cTell who thou art,\u201d in wonder cried.\nThe bird, as though their hearts to gain,\nAddressed them thus in gentlest strain;\n\u201cIn me, dear sons, the friend behold\nYour royal father loved of old.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: nor long did R\u00e1ma wait\nHis sire\u2019s dear friend to venerate:\nHe bade the bird declare his name\nAnd the high race of which he came.\nWhen Raghu\u2019s son had spoken, he\nDeclared his name and pedigree,\nHis words prolonging to disclose\nHow all the things that be arose:\n\n  \u201cList while I tell, O Raghu\u2019s son,\nThe first-born Fathers, one by one,\nGreat Lords of Life, whence all in earth\nAnd all in heaven derive their birth.\nFirst Kardam heads the glorious race\nWhere Vikrit holds the second place,\nWith \u015aesha, San\u015bray next in line,\nAnd Bahuputra\u2019s might divine.\nThen Sth\u00e1\u1e47u and Mar\u00edchi came,\nAtri, and Kratu\u2019s forceful frame.\nPulastya followed, next to him\nAngiras\u2019 name shall ne\u2019er be dim.\nPrachetas, Pulah next, and then\nDaksha, Vivasvat praised of men:\nAr\u00edsh\u1e6danemi next, and last\nKa\u015byap in glory unsurpassed.\nFrom Daksha,\u2014fame the tale has told\u2014:\nThree-score bright daughters sprang of old.\nOf these fair-waisted nymphs the great\nLord Ka\u015byap sought and wedded eight,\nAditi, Diti, K\u00e1lak\u00e1,\nT\u00e1mr\u00e1, Dan\u00fa, and Anal\u00e1,\nAnd Krodhavas\u00e1 swift to ire,\nAnd Manu(443) glorious as her sire.\nThen when the mighty Ka\u015byap cried\nDelighted to each tender bride:\n\u201cSons shalt thou bear, to rule the three\nGreat worlds, in might resembling me.\u201d\nAditi, Diti, and Dan\u00fa\nObeyed his will as consorts true,\nAnd K\u00e1lak\u00e1; but all the rest\nRefused to hear their lord\u2019s behest.\nFirst Aditi conceived, and she,\nMother of thirty Gods and three,\nThe Vasus and \u00c1dityas bare,\nRudras, and A\u015bvins, heavenly pair.\nOf Diti sprang the Daityas: fame\nDelights to laud their ancient name.\nIn days of yore their empire dread\nO\u2019er earth and woods and ocean spread.\nDan\u00fa was mother of a child,\nO hero, A\u015bvagr\u00edva styled,\nAnd Narak next and K\u00e1lak came\nOf K\u00e1lak\u00e1, celestial dame.\nOf T\u00e1mr\u00e1, too, five daughters bright\nIn deathless glory sprang to light.\nEnnobling fame still keeps alive\nThe titles of the lovely five:\nImmortal honour still she claims\nFor Kraunch\u00ed, Bhas\u00ed, \u015ayen\u00ed\u2019s names.\nAnd wills not that the world forget\n\u015auk\u00ed or Dhritar\u00e1shtr\u00ed yet.\nThen Kraunch\u00ed bare the crane and owl,\nAnd Bh\u00e1s\u00ed tribes of water fowl:\nVultures and hawks that race through air\nWith storm-fleet pinions \u015ayen\u00ed bare.\nAll swans and geese on mere and brook\nTheir birth from Dhritar\u00e1shtr\u00ed took,\nAnd all the river-haunting brood\nOf ducks, a countless multitude.\nFrom \u015auk\u00ed Nal\u00e1 sprang, who bare\nDame Vinat\u00e1 surpassing fair.\nFrom fiery Krodhava\u015b\u00e1, ten\nBright daughters sprang, O King of men:\nMrig\u00ed and Mrigamand\u00e1 named,\nHari and Bhadramad\u00e1 famed,\n\u015a\u00e1rd\u00fal\u00ed, \u015avet\u00e1 fair to see,\nM\u00e1tang\u00ed bright, and Surabh\u00ed,\nSuras\u00e1 marked with each fair sign,\nAnd Kadrum\u00e1, all maids divine.\nMrig\u00ed, O Prince without a peer,\nWas mother of the herds of deer,\nThe bear, the yak, the mountain roe\nTheir birth to Mrigamand\u00e1 owe;\nAnd Bhadramad\u00e1 joyed to be\nMother of fair Ir\u00e1vat\u00ed,\nWho bare Air\u00e1vat,(444) huge of mould,\nMid warders of the earth enrolled,\nFrom Har\u00ed lordly lions trace,\nWith monkeys of the wild, their race.\nFrom the great dame \u015a\u00e1rd\u00fal\u00ed styled\nSprung pards, L\u00e1ng\u00fars,(445) and tigers wild.\nM\u00e1tang\u00ed, Prince, gave birth to all\nM\u00e1tangas, elephants strong and tall,\nAnd \u015avet\u00e1 bore the beasts who stand\nOne at each wind, earth\u2019s warder band.(446)\nNext Surabh\u00ed the Goddess bore\nTwo heavenly maids, O Prince, of yore,\nGandharv\u00ed\u2014dear to fame is she\u2014\nAnd her sweet sister Rohi\u1e47\u00ed.\nWith kine this daughter filled each mead,\nAnd bright Gandharv\u00ed bore the steed.(447)\nSuras\u00e1 bore the serpents:(448) all\nThe snakes Kadr\u00fa their mother call.\nThen Manu, high-souled Ka\u015byap\u2019s(449) wife,\nTo all the race of men gave life,\nThe Br\u00e1hmans first, the Kshatriya caste,\nThen Vai\u015byas, and the \u015a\u00fadras last.\nSprang from her mouth the Br\u00e1hman race;\nHer chest the Kshatriyas\u2019 natal place:\nThe Vai\u015byas from her thighs, \u2019tis said,\nThe \u015a\u00fadras from her feet were bred.\nFrom Anal\u00e1 all trees that hang\nTheir fair fruit-laden branches sprang.\nThe child of beauteous \u015auk\u00ed bore\nVinat\u00e1, as I taught before:\nAnd Suras\u00e1 and Kadr\u00fa were\nBorn of one dame, a noble pair.\nKadr\u00fa gave birth to countless snakes\nThat roam the earth in woods and brakes.\nAru\u1e47 and Garu\u1e0d swift of flight\nBy Vinat\u00e1 were given to light,\nAnd sons of Aru\u1e47 red as morn\nSampati first, then I was born,\nMe then, O tamer of the foe,\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yus, son of \u015ayen\u00ed, know.\nThy ready helper will I be,\nAnd guard thy house, if thou agree:\nWhen thou and Lakshma\u1e47 urge the chase\nBy S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s side shall be my place.\u201d\nWith courteous thanks for promised aid,\n  The prince, to rapture stirred,\nBent low, and due obeisance paid,\n  Embraced the royal bird.\nHe often in the days gone by\n  Had heard his father tell\nHow, linked with him in friendship\u2019s tie,\n  He loved Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus well.\nHe hastened to his trusted friend\n  His darling to confide,\nAnd through the wood his steps to bend\n  By strong Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus\u2019 side.\nOn to the grove, with Lakshma\u1e47 near,\n  The prince his way pursued\nTo free those pleasant shades from fear\n  And slay the giant brood.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XV. Panchavat\u00ed.\n\n\nArrived at Panchava\u1e6d\u00ed\u2019s shade\nWhere silvan life and serpents strayed,\nR\u00e1ma in words like these addressed\nLakshma\u1e47 of vigour unrepressed:\n\n  \u201cBrother, our home is here: behold\nThe grove of which the hermit told:\nThe bowers of Panchava\u1e6d\u00ed see\nMade fair by every blooming tree.\nNow, brother, bend thine eyes around;\nWith skilful glance survey the ground:\nHere be some spot selected, best\nApproved for gentle hermits\u2019 rest,\nWhere thou, the Maithil dame, and I\nMay dwell while seasons sweetly fly.\nSome pleasant spot be chosen where\nPure waters gleam and trees are fair,\nSome nook where flowers and wood are found\nAnd sacred grass and springs abound.\u201d\n\n  Then Lakshma\u1e47, S\u00edt\u00e1 standing by,\nRaised reverent hands, and made reply:\n\n  \u201cA hundred years shall flee, and still\nWill I obey my brother\u2019s will:\nSelect thyself a pleasant spot;\nBe mine the care to rear the cot.\u201d\nThe glorious chieftain, pleased to hear\nThat loving speech that soothed his ear,\nSelected with observant care\nA spot with every charm most fair.\nHe stood within that calm retreat,\nA shade for hermits\u2019 home most meet,\nAnd thus Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son addressed,\nWhile his dear hand in his he pressed:\n\n  \u201cSee, see this smooth and lovely glade\nWhich flowery trees encircling shade:\nDo thou, beloved Lakshma\u1e47 rear\nA pleasant cot to lodge us here.\nI see beyond that feathery brake\nThe gleaming of a lilied lake,\nWhere flowers in sunlike glory throw\nFresh odours from the wave below.\nAgastya\u2019s words now find we true,\nHe told the charms which here we view:\nHere are the trees that blossom o\u2019er\nGod\u00e1var\u00ed\u2019s most lovely shore.\nWhose pleasant flood from side to side\nWith swans and geese is beautified,\nAnd fair banks crowded with the deer\nThat steal from every covert near.\nThe peacock\u2019s cry is loud and shrill\nFrom many a tall and lovely hill,\nGreen-belted by the trees that wave\nFull blossoms o\u2019er the rock and cave.\nLike elephants whose huge fronts glow\nWith painted streaks, the mountains show\nLong lines of gold and silver sheen\nWith copper\u2019s darker hues between.\nWith every tree each hill is graced,\nWhere creepers blossom interlaced.\nLook where the S\u00e1l\u2019s long branches sway,\nAnd palms their fanlike leaves display;\nThe date-tree and the Jak are near,\nAnd their long stems Tam\u00e1las rear.\nSee the tall Mango lift his head,\nA\u015bokas all their glory spread,\nThe Ketak her sweet buds unfold,\nAnd Champacs hang their cups of gold.(450)\nThe spot is pure and pleasant: here\nAre multitudes of birds and deer.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, with our father\u2019s friend\nWhat happy hours we here shall spend!\u201d\n\n  He spoke: the conquering Lakshma\u1e47 heard,\nObedient to his brother\u2019s word.\nRaised by his toil a cottage stood\nTo shelter R\u00e1ma in the wood,\nOf ample size, with leaves o\u2019erlaid,\nOf hardened earth the walls were made.\nThe strong bamboos his hands had felled\nFor pillars fair the roof upheld,\nAnd rafter, beam, and lath supplied\nWell interwrought from side to side.\nThen \u015aam\u00ed(451) boughs he deftly spread\nEnlaced with knotted cord o\u2019erhead,\nWell thatched above from ridge to eaves\nWith holy grass, and reed, and leaves.\nThe mighty chief with careful toil\nHad cleared the ground and smoothed the soil\nWhere now, his loving labour done,\nRose a fair home for Raghu\u2019s son.\nThen when his work was duly wrought,\nGod\u00e1var\u00eds sweet stream he sought,\nBathed, plucked the lilies, and a store\nOf fruit and berries homeward bore.\nThen sacrifice he duly paid,\nAnd wooed the Gods their hopes to aid,\nAnd then to R\u00e1ma proudly showed\nThe cot prepared for his abode.\nThen Raghu\u2019s son with S\u00edt\u00e1 gazed\nUpon the home his hands had raised,\nAnd transport thrilled his bosom through\nHis leafy hermitage to view.\nThe glorious son of Raghu round\nHis brother\u2019s neck his arms enwound,\nAnd thus began his sweet address\nOf deep-felt joy and gentleness:\n\u201cWell pleased am I, dear lord, to see\nThis noble work performed by thee.\nFor this,\u2014sole grace I can bestow,\u2014\nAbout thy neck mine arms I throw.\nSo wise art thou, thy breast is filled\nWith grateful thoughts, in duty skilled,\nOur mighty father, free from stain,\nIn thee, his offspring, lives again.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the prince, who lent a grace\nTo fortune, pride of Raghu\u2019s race;\nThen in that spot whose pleasant shade\nGave store of fruit, content he stayed.\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 and his Maithil spouse\nHe spent his day\u2019s neath sheltering boughs,\nAs happy as a God on high\nLives in his mansion in the sky.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVI. Winter.\n\n\nWhile there the high-souled hero spent\nHis tranquil hours in sweet content,\nThe glowing autumn passed, and then\nCame winter so beloved of men.\n\n  One morn, to bathe, at break of day\nTo the fair stream he took his way.\nBehind him, with the Maithil dame\nBearing a pitcher Lakshma\u1e47 came,\nAnd as he went the mighty man\nThus to his brother chief began:\n\n  \u201cThe time is come, to thee more dear\nThan all the months that mark the year:\nThe gracious seasons\u2019 joy and pride,\nBy which the rest are glorified.\nA robe of hoary rime is spread\nO\u2019er earth, with corn engarlanded.\nThe streams we loved no longer please,\nBut near the fire we take our ease.\nNow pious men to God and shade\nOffer young corn\u2019s fresh sprouted blade,\nAnd purge away their sins with rice\nBestowed in humble sacrifice.\nRich stores of milk delight the swain,\nAnd hearts are cheered that longed for gain,\nProud kings whose breasts for conquests glow\nLead bannered troops to smite the foe.\nDark is the north: the Lord of Day\nTo Y\u00e1ma\u2019s south(452) has turned away:\nAnd she\u2014sad widow\u2014shines no more,\nReft of the bridal mark(453) she wore.\nHim\u00e1laya\u2019s hill, ordained of old\nThe treasure-house of frost and cold,\nScarce conscious of the feebler glow,\nIs truly now the Lord of Snow.\nWarmed by the noontide\u2019s genial rays\nDelightful are the glorious days:\nBut how we shudder at the chill\nOf evening shadows and the rill!\nHow weak the sun, how cold the breeze!\nHow white the rime on grass and trees!\nThe leaves are sere, the woods have lost\nTheir blossoms killed by nipping frost.\nNeath open skies we sleep no more:\nDecember\u2019s nights with rime are hoar:\nTheir triple watch(454) in length extends\nWith hours the shortened daylight lends.\nNo more the moon\u2019s sun-borrowed rays\nAre bright, involved in misty haze,\nAs when upon the mirror\u2019s sheen\nThe breath\u2019s obscuring cloud is seen.\nE\u2019en at the full the faint beams fail\nTo struggle through the darksome veil:\nChanged like her hue, they want the grace\nThat parts not yet from S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s face.\nCold is the western wind, but how\nIts piercing chill is heightened now,\nBlowing at early morning twice\nAs furious with its breath of ice!\nSee how the dewy tears they weep\nThe barley, wheat, and woodland steep,\nWhere, as the sun goes up the sky,\nThe curlew and the s\u00e1ras cry.\nSee where the rice plants scarce uphold\nTheir full ears tinged with paly gold,\nBending their ripe heads slowly down\nFair as the date tree\u2019s flowery crown.\nThough now the sun has mounted high\nSeeking the forehead of the sky,\nSuch mist obscures his struggling beams,\nNo bigger than the moon he seems.\nThough weak at first, his rays at length\nGrow pleasant in their noonday strength,\nAnd where a while they chance to fall\nFling a faint splendour over all.\nSee, o\u2019er the woods where grass is wet\nWith hoary drops that cling there yet,\nWith soft light clothing earth and bough\nThere steals a tender glory now.\nYon elephant who longs to drink,\nStill standing on the river\u2019s brink,\nPlucks back his trunk in shivering haste\nFrom the cold wave he fain would taste.\nThe very fowl that haunt the mere\nStand doubtful on the bank, and fear\nTo dip them in the wintry wave\nAs cowards dread to meet the brave.\nThe frost of night, the rime of dawn\nBind flowerless trees and glades of lawn:\nBenumbed in apathetic chill\nOf icy chains they slumber still.\nYou hear the hidden s\u00e1ras cry\nFrom floods that wrapped in vapour lie,\nAnd frosty-shining sands reveal\nWhere the unnoticed rivers steal.\nThe hoary rime of dewy night,\nAnd suns that glow with tempered light\nLend fresh cool flavours to the rill\nThat sparkles from the topmost hill.\nThe cold has killed the lily\u2019s pride:\nLeaf, filament, and flower have died:\nWith chilling breath rude winds have blown,\nThe withered stalk is left alone.\nAt this gay time, O noblest chief,\nThe faithful Bharat, worn by grief,\nLives in the royal town where he\nSpends weary hours for love of thee.\nFrom titles, honour, kingly sway,\nFrom every joy he turns away:\nCouched on cold earth, his days are passed\nWith scanty fare and hermit\u2019s fast.\nThis moment from his humble bed\nHe lifts, perhaps, his weary head,\nAnd girt by many a follower goes\nTo bathe where silver Sarj\u00fa flows.\nHow, when the frosty morn is dim,\nShall Sarj\u00fa be a bath for him\nNursed with all love and tender care,\nSo delicate and young and fair.\nHow bright his hue! his brilliant eye\nWith the broad lotus leaf may vie.\nBy fortune stamped for happy fate,\nHis graceful form is tall and straight.\nIn duty skilled, his words are truth:\nHe proudly rules each lust of youth.\nThough his strong arm smites down the foe,\nIn gentle speech his accents flow.\nYet every joy has he resigned\nAnd cleaves to thee with heart and mind.\nThus by the deeds that he has done\nA name in heaven has Bharat won,\nFor in his life he follows yet\nThy steps, O banished anchoret.\nThus faithful Bharat, nobly wise,\nThe proverb of the world belies:\n\u201cNo men, by mothers\u2019 guidance led,\nThe footsteps of their fathers tread.\u201d\nHow could Kaikey\u00ed, blest to be\nSpouse of the king our sire, and see\nA son like virtuous Bharat, blot\nHer glory with so foul a plot!\u201d\n\n  Thus in fraternal love he spoke,\nAnd from his lips reproaches broke:\nBut R\u00e1ma grieved to hear him chide\nThe absent mother, and replied:\n\n  \u201cCease, O beloved, cease to blame\nOur royal father\u2019s second dame.\nStill speak of Bharat first in place\nOf old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s princely race.\nMy heart, so firmly bent but now\nTo dwell in woods and keep my vow,\nHalf melting as I hear thee speak\nOf Bharat\u2019s love, grows soft and weak,\nWith tender joy I bring to mind\nHis speeches ever sweet and kind.\nThat dear as Amrit took the sense\nWith most enchanting influence.\nAh, when shall I, no more to part,\nMeet Bharat of the mighty heart?\nWhen, O my brother, when shall we\nThe good and brave \u015aatrughna see?\u201d\nThus as he poured his fond lament\nThe son of Raghu onward went:\nThey reached the river, and the three\nBathed them in fair God\u00e1var\u00ed.\nLibations of the stream they paid\nTo every deity and shade,\nWith hymns of praise, the Sun on high\nAnd sinless Gods to glorify.\nFresh from the purifying tide\n  Resplendent R\u00e1ma came,\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 ever by his side,\n  And the sweet Maithil dame.\nSo Rudra shines by worlds adored,\n  In glory undefiled,\nWhen Nandi(455) stands beside his lord,\n  And King Him\u00e1laya\u2019s child.(456)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVII. S\u00farpanakh\u00e1.\n\n\nThe bathing and the prayer were o\u2019er;\nHe turned him from the grassy shore,\nAnd with his brother and his spouse\nSought his fair home beneath the boughs.\nS\u00edt\u00e1 and Lakshma\u1e47 by his side,\nOn to his cot the hero hied,\nAnd after rites at morning due\nWithin the leafy shade withdrew.\nThen, honoured by the devotees,\nAs royal R\u00e1ma sat at ease,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 near him, o\u2019er his head\nA canopy of green boughs spread,\nHe shone as shines the Lord of Night\nBy Chitr\u00e1\u2019s(457) side, his dear delight.\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 there he sat and told\nSweet stories of the days of old,\nAnd as the pleasant time he spent\nWith heart upon each tale intent,\nA giantess, by fancy led,\nCame wandering to his leafy shed.\nFierce \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1,\u2014her of yore\nThe Ten-necked tyrant\u2019s mother bore,\u2014\nSaw R\u00e1ma with his noble mien\nBright as the Gods in heaven are seen;\nHim from whose brow a glory gleamed,\nLike lotus leaves his full eyes beamed:\nLong-armed, of elephantine gait,\nWith hair close coiled in hermit plait:\nIn youthful vigour, nobly framed,\nBy glorious marks a king proclaimed:\nLike some bright lotus lustrous-hued,\nWith young Kandarpa\u2019s(458) grace endued:\nAs there like Indra\u2019s self he shone,\nShe loved the youth she gazed upon.\nShe grim of eye and foul of face\nLoved his sweet glance and forehead\u2019s grace:\nShe of unlovely figure, him\nOf stately form and shapely limb:\nShe whose dim locks disordered hung,\nHim whose bright hair on high brows clung:\nShe whose fierce accents counselled fear,\nHim whose soft tones were sweet to hear:\nShe whose dire form with age was dried,\nHim radiant in his youthful pride:\nShe whose false lips maintained the wrong,\nHim in the words of virtue strong:\nShe cruel-hearted, stained with sin,\nHim just in deed and pure within.\nShe, hideous fiend, a thing to hate,\nHim formed each eye to captivate:\nFierce passion in her bosom woke,\nAnd thus to Raghu\u2019s son she spoke:\n\n  \u201cWith matted hair above thy brows,\nWith bow and shaft and this thy spouse,\nHow hast thou sought in hermit dress\nThe giant-haunted wilderness?\nWhat dost thou here? The cause explain:\nWhy art thou come, and what to gain?\u201d\nAs \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 questioned so,\nR\u00e1ma, the terror of the foe,\nIn answer to the monster\u2019s call,\nWith fearless candour told her all.\n\u201cKing Da\u015baratha reigned of old,\nLike Gods celestial brave and bold.\nI am his eldest son and heir,\nAnd R\u00e1ma is the name I bear.\nThis brother, Lakshma\u1e47, younger born,\nMost faithful love to me has sworn.\nMy wife, this princess, dear to fame,\nIs Sit\u00e1 the Videhan dame.\nObedient to my sire\u2019s behest\nAnd by the queen my mother pressed,\nTo keep the law and merit win,\nI sought this wood to harbour in.\nBut speak, for I of thee in turn\nThy name, and race, and sire would learn.\nThou art of giant race, I ween.\nChanging at will thy form and mien.\nSpeak truly, and the cause declare\nThat bids thee to these shades repair.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spoke: the demon heard,\nAnd thus replied by passion spurred:\n\u201cOf giant race, what form soe\u2019er\nMy fancy wills, \u2019tis mine to wear.\nNamed \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 here I stray,\nAnd where I walk spread wild dismay.\nKing R\u00e1va\u1e47 is my brother: fame\nHas taught perchance his dreaded name,\nStrong Kumbhakar\u1e47a slumbering deep\nIn chains of never-ending sleep:\nVibh\u00edsha\u1e47 of the duteous mind,\nIn needs unlike his giant kind:\nD\u00fasha\u1e47 and Khara, brave and bold\nWhose fame by every tongue is told:\nTheir might by mine is far surpassed;\nBut when, O best of men, I cast\nThese fond eyes on thy form, I see\nMy chosen love and lord in thee.\nEndowed with wondrous might am I:\nWhere\u2019er my fancy leads I fly.\nThe poor misshapen S\u00edt\u00e1 leave,\nAnd me, thy worthier bride receive.\nLook on my beauty, and prefer\nA spouse more meet than one like her:\nI\u2019ll eat that ill-formed woman there:\nThy brother too her fate shall share.\nBut come, beloved, thou shalt roam\nWith me through all our woodland home;\nEach varied grove with me shalt seek,\nAnd gaze upon each mountain peak.\u201d\n\n  As thus she spoke, the monster gazed\nWith sparkling eyes where passion blazed:\nThen he, in lore of language learned,\nThis answer eloquent returned:\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVIII. The Mutilation.\n\n\nOn her ensnared in K\u00e1ma\u2019s net\nHis eyes the royal R\u00e1ma set,\nAnd thus, her passion to beguile,\nAddressed her with a gentle smile:\n\n  \u201cI have a wife: behold her here,\nMy S\u00edt\u00e1 ever true and dear:\nAnd one like thee will never brook\nUpon a rival spouse to look.\nBut there my brother Lakshma\u1e47 stands:\nUnchained is he by nuptial bands:\nA youth heroic, loved of all,\nGracious and gallant, fair and tall.\nWith winning looks, most nobly bred,\nUnmatched till now, he longs to wed.\nMeet to enjoy thy youthful charms,\nO take him to thy loving arms.\nEnamoured on his bosom lie,\nFair damsel of the radiant eye,\nAs the warm sunlight loves to rest\nUpon her darling Meru\u2019s breast.\u201d\n\n  The hero spoke, the monster heard,\nWhile passion still her bosom stirred.\nAway from R\u00e1ma\u2019s side she broke,\nAnd thus in turn to Lakshma\u1e47 spoke:\n\u201cCome, for thy bride take me who shine\nIn fairest grace that suits with thine.\nThou by my side from grove to grove\nOf Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s wild in bliss shalt rove.\u201d\n\n  Then Lakshma\u1e47, skilled in soft address,\nWooed by the amorous giantess,\nWith art to turn her love aside,\nTo \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 thus replied:\n\n  \u201cAnd can so high a dame agree\nThe slave-wife of a slave to be?\nI, lotus-hued! in good and ill\nAm bondsman to my brother\u2019s will.\nBe thou, fair creature radiant-eyed,\nMy honoured brother\u2019s younger bride:\nWith faultless tint and dainty limb,\nA happy wife, bring joy to him.\nHe from his spouse grown old and grey,\nDeformed, untrue, will turn away,\nHer withered charms will gladly leave,\nAnd to his fair young darling cleave.\nFor who could be so fond and blind,\nO loveliest of all female kind,\nTo love another dame and slight\nThy beauties rich in all delight?\u201d\n\n  Thus Lakshma\u1e47 praised in scornful jest\nThe long-toothed fiend with loathly breast,\nWho fondly heard his speech, nor knew\nHis mocking words were aught but true.\nAgain inflamed with love she fled\nTo R\u00e1ma, in his leafy shed\nWhere S\u00edt\u00e1 rested by his side,\nAnd to the mighty victor cried:\n\n  \u201cWhat, R\u00e1ma, canst thou blindly cling\nTo this old false misshapen thing?\nWilt thou refuse the charms of youth\nFor withered breast and grinning tooth!\nCanst thou this wretched creature prize\nAnd look on me with scornful eyes?\nThis aged crone this very hour\nBefore thy face will I devour:\nThen joyous, from all rivals free.\nThrough Da\u1e47\u1e0dak will I stray with thee.\u201d\n\n  She spoke, and with a glance of flame\nRushed on the fawn-eyed Maithil dame:\nSo would a horrid meteor mar\nFair Rohi\u1e47\u00ed\u2019s soft beaming star.\nBut as the furious fiend drew near,\nLike Death\u2019s dire noose which chills with fear,\nThe mighty chief her purpose stayed,\nAnd spoke, his brother to upbraid:\n\u201cNe\u2019er should we jest with creatures rude,\nOf savage race and wrathful mood.\nThink, Lakshma\u1e47, think how nearly slain\nMy dear Videhan breathes again.\nLet not the hideous wretch escape\nWithout a mark to mar her shape.\nStrike, lord of men, the monstrous fiend,\nDeformed, and foul, and evil-miened.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: then Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s wrath rose high,\nAnd there before his brother\u2019s eye,\nHe drew that sword which none could stay,\nAnd cleft her nose and ears away.\nNoseless and earless, torn and maimed,\nWith fearful shrieks the fiend exclaimed,\nAnd frantic in her wild distress\nResought the distant wilderness.\nDeformed, terrific, huge, and dread,\nAs on she moved, her gashes bled,\nAnd groan succeeded groan as loud\nAs roars, ere rain, the thunder cloud.\nStill on the fearful monster passed,\nWhile streams of blood kept falling fast,\nAnd with a roar, and arms outspread\nWithin the boundless wood she fled.\nTo Janasth\u00e1n the monster flew;\n  Fierce Khara there she found,\nWith chieftains of the giant crew\n  In thousands ranged around.\nBefore his awful feet she bent\n  And fell with piercing cries,\nAs when a bolt in swift descent\n  Comes flashing from the skies.\nThere for a while with senses dazed\n  Silent she lay and scared:\nAt length her drooping head she raised,\n  And all the tale declared,\nHow R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, and the dame\n  Had reached that lonely place:\nThen told her injuries and shame,\n  And showed her bleeding face.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara.\n\n\nWhen Khara saw his sister lie\nWith blood-stained limbs and troubled eye,\nWild fury in his bosom woke,\nAnd thus the monstrous giant spoke;\n\n  \u201cArise, my sister; cast away\nThis numbing terror and dismay,\nAnd straight the impious hand declare\nThat marred those features once so fair.\nFor who his finger tip will lay\nOn the black snake in childish play,\nAnd unattacked, with idle stroke\nHis poison-laden fang provoke?\nIll-fated fool, he little knows\nDeath\u2019s noose around his neck he throws,\nWho rashly met thee, and a draught\nOf life-destroying poison quaffed.\nStrong, fierce as death, \u2019twas thine to choose\nThy way at will, each shape to use;\nIn power and might like one of us:\nWhat hand has maimed and marred thee thus?\nWhat God or fiend this deed has wrought,\nWhat bard or sage of lofty thought\nWas armed with power supremely great\nThy form to mar and mutilate?\nIn all the worlds not one I see\nWould dare a deed to anger me:\nNot Indra\u2019s self, the Thousand-eyed,\nBeneath whose hand fierce P\u00e1ka(459) died.\nMy life-destroying darts this day\nHis guilty breath shall rend away,\nE\u2019en as the thirsty wild swan drains\nEach milk-drop that the wave retains.\nWhose blood in foaming streams shall burst\nO\u2019er the dry ground which lies athirst,\nWhen by my shafts transfixed and slain\nHe falls upon the battle plain?\nFrom whose dead corpse shall birds of air\nThe mangled flesh and sinews tear,\nAnd in their gory feast delight,\nWhen I have slain him in the fight?\nNot God or bard or wandering ghost,\nNo giant of our mighty host\nShall step between us, or avail\nTo save the wretch when I assail.\nCollect each scattered sense, recall\nThy troubled thoughts, and tell me all.\nWhat wretch attacked thee in the way,\nAnd quelled thee in victorious fray?\u201d\n\n  His breast with burning fury fired,\nThus Khara of the fiend inquired:\nAnd then with many a tear and sigh\nThus \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 made reply:\n\u201c\u2019Tis Da\u015baratha\u2019s sons, a pair\nStrong, resolute, and young, and fair:\nIn coats of dark and blackdeer\u2019s hide,\nAnd like the radiant lotus eyed:\nOn berries roots and fruit they feed,\nAnd lives of saintly virtue lead:\nWith ordered senses undefiled,\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 are they styled.\nFair as the Minstrels\u2019 King(460) are they,\nAnd stamped with signs of regal sway.\nI know not if the heroes trace\nTheir line from Gods or D\u00e1nav(461) race.\nThere by these wondering eyes between\nThe noble youths a dame was seen,\nFair, blooming, young, with dainty waist,\nAnd all her bright apparel graced.\nFor her with ready heart and mind\nThe royal pair their strength combined,\nAnd brought me to this last distress,\nLike some lost woman, comfortless.\nPerfidious wretch! my soul is fain\nHer foaming blood and theirs to drain.\nO let me head the vengeful fight,\nAnd with this hand my murderers smite.\nCome, brother, hasten to fulfil\nThis longing of my eager will.\nOn to the battle! Let me drink\nTheir lifeblood as to earth they sink.\u201d\n\n  Then Khara, by his sister pressed,\nInflamed with fury, gave his hest\nTo twice seven giants of his crew,\nFierce as the God of death to view:\n\n  \u2019Two men equipped with arms, who wear\nDeerskin and bark and matted hair,\nLeading a beauteous dame, have strayed\nTo the wild gloom of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s shade.\nThese men, this cursed woman slay,\nAnd hasten back without delay,\nThat this my sister\u2019s lips may be\nRed with the lifeblood of the three.\nGiants, my wounded sister longs\nTo take this vengeance for her wrongs.\nWith speed her dearest wish fulfil,\nAnd with your might these creatures kill.\nSoon as your matchless strength shall lay\nThese brothers dead in battle fray,\nShe in triumphant joy will laugh,\nAnd their hearts\u2019 blood delighted quaff.\u201d\n\n  The giants heard the words he said,\nAnd forth with \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 sped,\nAs mighty clouds in autumn fly\nUrged by the wind along the sky.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XX. The Giants\u2019 Death.\n\n\nFierce \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 with her train\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s dwelling came again,\nAnd to the eager giants showed\nWhere S\u00edt\u00e1 and the youths abode.\nWithin the leafy cot they spied\nThe hero by his consort\u2019s side,\nAnd faithful Lakshma\u1e47 ready still\nTo wait upon his brother\u2019s will.\nThen noble R\u00e1ma raised his eye\nAnd saw the giants standing nigh,\nAnd then, as nearer still they pressed.\nHis glorious brother thus addressed,\n\u201cBe thine a while, my brother dear,\nTo watch o\u2019er S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s safety here,\nAnd I will slay these creatures who\nThe footsteps of my spouse pursue.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and reverent Lakshma\u1e47 heard\nSubmissive to his brother\u2019s word.\nThe son of Raghu, virtuous-souled,\nStrung his great bow adorned with gold,\nAnd, with the weapon in his hand,\nAddressed him to the giant band:\n\u201cR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 we, who spring\nFrom Da\u015baratha, mighty king;\nWe dwell a while with S\u00edt\u00e1 here\nIn Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest wild and drear.\nOn woodland roots and fruit we feed,\nAnd lives of strictest rule we lead.\nSay why would ye our lives oppress\nWho sojourn in the wilderness.\nSent hither by the hermits\u2019 prayer\nWith bow and darts unused to spare,\nFor vengeance am I come to slay\nYour sinful band in battle fray.\nRest as ye are: remain content,\nNor try the battle\u2019s dire event.\nUnless your offered lives ye spurn,\nO rovers of the night, return.\u201d\n\n  They listened while the hero spoke,\nAnd fury in each breast awoke.\nThe Br\u00e1hman-slayers raised on high\nTheir mighty spears and made reply:\nThey spoke with eyes aglow with ire,\nWhile R\u00e1ma\u2019s burnt with vengeful tire,\nAnd answered thus, in fury wild,\nThat peerless chief whose tones were mild:\n\n  \u201cNay thou hast angered, overbold,\nKhara our lord, the mighty-souled,\nAnd for thy sin, in battle strife\nShalt yield to us thy forfeit life.\nNo power hast thou alone to stand\nAgainst the numbers of our band.\n\u2019Twere vain to match thy single might\nAgainst us in the front of fight.\nWhen we equipped for fight advance\nWith brandished pike and mace and lance,\nThou, vanquished in the desperate field,\nThy bow, thy strength, thy life shalt yield.\u201d\n\n  With bitter words and threatening mien\nThus furious spoke the fierce fourteen,\nAnd raising scimitar and spear\nOn R\u00e1ma rushed in wild career.\nTheir levelled spears the giant crew\nAgainst the matchless hero threw.\nHis bow the son of Raghu bent,\nAnd twice seven shafts to meet them sent,\nAnd every javelin sundered fell\nBy the bright darts he aimed so well.\n\n  The hero saw: his anger grew\nTo fury: from his side he drew\nFresh sunbright arrows pointed keen,\nIn number, like his foes, fourteen.\nHis bow he grasped, the string he drew,\nAnd gazing on the giant crew,\nAs Indra casts the levin, so\nShot forth his arrows at the foe.\nThe hurtling arrows, stained with gore,\nThrough the fiends\u2019 breasts a passage tore,\nAnd in the earth lay buried deep\nAs serpents through an ant-hill creep\nLike trees uptorn by stormy blast\nThe shattered fiends to earth were cast,\nAnd there with mangled bodies they,\nBathed in their blood and breathless, lay.\n\n  With fainting heart and furious eye\nThe demon saw her champions die.\nWith drying wounds that scarcely bled\nBack to her brother\u2019s home she fled.\nOppressed with pain, with loud lament\nAt Khara\u2019s feet the monster bent.\nThere like a plant whence slowly come\nThe trickling drops of oozy gum,\nWith her grim features pale with pain\nShe poured her tears in ceaseless rain,\nThere routed \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 lay,\n  And told her brother all,\nThe issue of the bloody fray,\n  Her giant champions\u2019 fall.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara.\n\n\nLow in the dust he saw her lie,\nAnd Khara\u2019s wrath grew fierce and high.\nAloud he cried to her who came\nDisgracefully with baffled aim:\n\u201cI sent with thee at thy request\nThe bravest of my giants, best\nOf all who feed upon the slain:\nWhy art thou weeping here again?\nStill to their master\u2019s interest true,\nMy faithful, noble, loyal crew,\nThough slaughtered in the bloody fray,\nWould yet their monarch\u2019s word obey.\nNow I, my sister, fain would know\nThe cause of this thy fear and woe,\nWhy like a snake thou writhest there,\nCalling for aid in wild despair.\nNay, lie not thus in lowly guise:\nCast off thy weakness and arise!\u201d\n\n  With soothing words the giant chief\nAssuaged the fury of her grief.\nHer weeping eyes she slowly dried\nAnd to her brother thus replied:\n\u201cI sought thee in my shame and fear\nWith severed nose and mangled ear:\nMy gashes like a river bled,\nI sought thee and was comforted.\nThose twice seven giants, brave and strong,\nThou sentest to avenge the wrong,\nTo lay the savage R\u00e1ma low,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 who misused me so.\nBut ah, the shafts of R\u00e1ma through\nThe bodies of my champions flew:\nThough madly fierce their spears they plied,\nBeneath his conquering might they died.\nI saw them, famed for strength and speed,\nI saw my heroes fall and bleed:\nGreat trembling seized my every limb\nAt the great deed achieved by him.\nIn trouble, horror, doubt, and dread,\nAgain to thee for help I fled.\nWhile terror haunts my troubled sight,\nI seek thee, rover of the night.\nAnd canst thou not thy sister free\nFrom this wide waste of troublous sea\nWhose sharks are doubt and terror, where\nEach wreathing wave is dark despair?\nLow lie on earth thy giant train\nBy ruthless R\u00e1ma\u2019s arrows slain,\nAnd all the mighty demons, fed\nOn blood, who followed me are dead.\nNow if within thy breast may be\nPity for them and love for me,\nIf thou, O rover of the night,\nHave valour and with him can fight,\nSubdue the giants\u2019 cruel foe\nWho dwells where Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s thickets grow.\nBut if thine arm in vain assay\nThis queller of his foes to slay,\nNow surely here before thine eyes,\nWronged and ashamed thy sister dies.\nToo well, alas, too well I see\nThat, strong in war as thou mayst be,\nThou canst not in the battle stand\nWhen R\u00e1ma meets thee hand to hand.\nGo forth, thou hero but in name,\nAssuming might thou canst not claim;\nCall friend and kin, no longer stay:\nAway from Janasth\u00e1n, away!\nShame of thy race! the weak alone\nBeneath thine arm may sink o\u2019erthrown:\nFly R\u00e1ma and his brother: they\nAre men too strong for thee to slay.\nHow canst thou hope, O weak and base,\nTo make this grove thy dwelling-place?\nWith R\u00e1ma\u2019s might unmeet to vie,\nO\u2019ermastered thou wilt quickly die.\nA hero strong in valorous deed\nIs R\u00e1ma, Da\u015baratha\u2019s seed:\nAnd scarce of weaker might than he\nHis brother chief who mangled me.\u201d\n\n  Thus wept and wailed in deep distress\nThe grim misshapen giantess:\nBefore her brother\u2019s feet she lay\nO\u2019erwhelmed with grief, and swooned away.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXII. Khara\u2019s Wrath.\n\n\nRoused by the taunting words she spoke,\nThe mighty Khara\u2019s wrath awoke,\nAnd there, while giants girt him round,\nIn these fierce words an utterance found:\n\n  \u201cI cannot, peerless one, contain\nMine anger at this high disdain,\nGalling as salt when sprinkled o\u2019er\nThe rawness of a bleeding sore.\nR\u00e1ma in little count I hold,\nWeak man whose days are quickly told.\nThe caitiff with his life to-day\nFor all his evil deeds shall pay.\nDry, sister, dry each needless tear,\nStint thy lament and banish fear,\nFor R\u00e1ma and his brother go\nThis day to Y\u00e1ma\u2019s realm below.\nMy warrior\u2019s axe shall stretch him slain,\nEre set of sun, upon the plain,\nThen shall thy sated lips be red\nWith his warm blood in torrents shed.\u201d\n\n  As Khara\u2019s speech the demon heard,\nWith sudden joy her heart was stirred:\nShe fondly praised him as the boast\nAnd glory of the giant host.\nFirst moved to ire by taunts and stings,\nNow soothed by gentle flatterings,\nTo D\u00fasha\u1e47, who his armies led,\nThe demon Khara spoke, and said:\n\n  \u201cFriend, from the host of giants call\nFull fourteen thousand, best of all,\nSlaves of my will, of fearful might,\nWho never turn their backs in fight:\nFiends who rejoice to slay and mar,\nDark as the clouds of autumn are:\nMake ready quickly, O my friend,\nMy chariot and the bows I bend.\nMy swords, my shafts of brilliant sheen,\nMy divers lances long and keen.\nOn to the battle will I lead\nThese heroes of Pulastya\u2019s seed,\nAnd thus, O famed for warlike skill,\nR\u00e1ma my wicked foeman kill.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and ere his speech was done,\nHis chariot glittering like the sun,\nYoked and announced, by D\u00fashan\u2019s care,\nWith dappled steeds was ready there.\nHigh as a peak from Meru rent\nIt burned with golden ornament:\nThe pole of lazulite, of gold\nWere the bright wheels whereon it rolled.\nWith gold and moonstone blazoned o\u2019er,\nFish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore;\nAuspicious birds embossed thereon,\nAnd stars in costly emblem shone.\nO\u2019er flashing swords his banner hung,\nAnd sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung.\nThat mighty host with sword and shield\nAnd oar was ready for the field:\nAnd Khara saw, and D\u00fashan cried,\n\u201cForth to the fight, ye giants, ride.\u201d\nThen banners waved, and shield and sword\nFlashed as the host obeyed its lord.\nFrom Janasth\u00e1n they sallied out\nWith eager speed, and din, and shout,\nArmed with the mace for close attacks,\nThe bill, the spear, the battle-axe,\nSteel quoit and club that flashed afar,\nHuge bow and sword and scimitar,\nThe dart to pierce, the bolt to strike,\nThe murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike.\nSo forth from Janasth\u00e1n, intent\nOn Khara\u2019s will, the monsters went.\nHe saw their awful march: not far\nBehind the host he drove his car.\nWare of his master\u2019s will, to speed\nThe driver urged each gold-decked steed.\nThen forth the warrior\u2019s coursers sprang,\nAnd with tumultuous murmur rang\nEach distant quarter of the sky\nAnd realms that intermediate lie.\nHigh and more high within his breast\n  His pride triumphant rose,\nWhile terrible as Death he pressed\n  Onward to slay his foes,\n\u201cMore swiftly yet,\u201d as on they fled,\n  He cried in thundering tones\nLoud as a cloud that overhead\n  Hails down a flood of stones.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIII. The Omens.\n\n\nAs forth upon its errand went\nThat huge ferocious armament,\nAn awful cloud, in dust and gloom,\nWith threatening thunders from its womb\nPoured in sad augury a flood\nOf rushing water mixt with blood.\nThe monarch\u2019s steeds, though strong and fleet,\nStumbled and fell: and yet their feet\nPassed o\u2019er the bed of flowers that lay\nFresh gathered on the royal way.\nNo gleam of sunlight struggled through\nThe sombre pall of midnight hue,\nEdged with a line of bloody red,\nLike whirling torches overhead.\nA vulture, fierce, of mighty size.\nTerrific with his cruel eyes,\nPerched on the staff enriched with gold,\nWhence hung the flag in many a fold.\nEach ravening bird, each beast of prey\nWhere Janasth\u00e1n\u2019s wild thickets lay,\nRose with a long discordant cry\nAnd gathered as the host went by.\nAnd from the south long, wild, and shrill,\nCame spirit voices boding ill.\nLike elephants in frantic mood,\nVast clouds terrific, sable-hued,\nHid all the sky where\u2019er they bore\nTheir load of water mixt with gore.\nAbove, below, around were spread\nThick shades of darkness strange and dread,\nNor could the wildered glance descry\nA point or quarter of the sky.\nThen came o\u2019er heaven a sanguine hue,\nThough evening\u2019s flush not yet was due,\nWhile each ill-omened bird that flies\nAssailed the king with harshest cries.\nThere screamed the vulture and the crane,\nAnd the loud jackal shrieked again.\nEach hideous thing that bodes aright\nDisaster in the coming fight,\nWith gaping mouth that hissed and flamed,\nThe ruin of the host proclaimed.\nEclipse untimely reft away\nThe brightness of the Lord of Day,\nAnd near his side was seen to glow\nA mace-like comet boding woe.\nThen while the sun was lost to view\nA mighty wind arose and blew,\nAnd stars like fireflies shed their light,\nNor waited for the distant night.\nThe lilies drooped, the brooks were dried,\nThe fish and birds that swam them died,\nAnd every tree that was so fair\nWith flower and fruit was stripped and bare.\nThe wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high,\nDark clouds of dust involved the sky.\nIn doleful twitter long sustained\nThe restless S\u00e1rik\u00e1s(462) complained,\nAnd from the heavens with flash and flame\nTerrific meteors roaring came.\nEarth to her deep foundation shook\nWith rock and tree and plain and brook,\nAs Khara with triumphant shout,\nBorne in his chariot, sallied out.\nHis left arm throbbed: he knew full well\nThat omen, and his visage fell.\nEach awful sign the giant viewed,\nAnd sudden tears his eye bedewed.\nCare on his brow sat chill and black,\nYet mad with wrath he turned not back.\nUpon each fearful sight that raised\nThe shuddering hair the chieftain gazed,\nAnd laughing in his senseless pride\nThus to his giant legions cried:\n\u201cBy sense of mightiest strength upborne,\nThese feeble signs I laugh to scorn.\nI could bring down the stars that shine\nIn heaven with these keen shafts of mine.\nImpelled by warlike fury I\nCould cause e\u2019en Death himself to die.\nI will not seek my home again\nUntil my pointed shafts have slain\nThis Raghu\u2019s son so fierce in pride,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 by his brother\u2019s side.\nAnd she, my sister, she for whom\nThese sons of Raghu meet their doom,\nShe with delighted lips shall drain\nThe lifeblood of her foemen slain.\nFear not for me: I ne\u2019er have known\nDefeat, in battle overthrown.\nFear not for me, O giants; true\nAre the proud words I speak to you.\nThe king of Gods who rules on high,\nIf wild Air\u00e1vat bore him nigh,\nShould fall before me bolt in hand:\nAnd shall these two my wrath withstand!\u201d\n\n  He ended and the giant host\nWho heard their chief\u2019s triumphant boast,\nRejoiced with equal pride elate,\nEntangled in the noose of Fate.\n\n  Then met on high in bright array,\nWith eyes that longed to see the fray,\nGod and Gandharva, sage and saint,\nWith beings pure from earthly taint.\nBlest for good works aforetime wrought,\nThus each to other spake his thought:\n\u201cNow joy to Br\u00e1hmans, joy to kine,\nAnd all whom world count half divine!\nMay Raghu\u2019s offspring slay in fight\nPulastya\u2019s sons who roam by night!\u201d\nIn words like these and more, the best\nOf high-souled saints their hopes expressed,\nBending their eager eyes from where\nCar-borne with Gods they rode in air.\nBeneath them stretching far, they viewed\nThe giants\u2019 death-doomed multitude.\nThey saw where, urged with fury, far\nBefore the host rolled Khara\u2019s car,\nAnd close beside their leader came\nTwelve giant peers of might and fame.\nFour other chiefs(463) before the rest\nBehind their leader D\u00fasha\u1e47 pressed.\n  Impetuous, cruel, dark, and dread,\n    All thirsting for the fray,\n  The hosts of giant warriors sped\n    Onward upon their way.\n  With eager speed they reached the spot\n    Where dwelt the princely two,\u2014\n  Like planets in a league to blot\n    The sun and moon from view.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIV. The Host In Sight.\n\n\nWhile Khara, urged by valiant rage,\nDrew near that little hermitage,\nThose wondrous signs in earth and sky\nSmote on each prince\u2019s watchful eye.\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw those signs of woe\nFraught with destruction to the foe,\nWith bold impatience scarce repressed\nHis brother chief he thus addressed:\n\n  \u201cThese fearful signs, my brother bold,\nWhich threaten all our foes, behold:\nAll laden, as they strike the view,\nWith ruin to the fiendish crew.\nThe angry clouds are gathering fast,\nTheir skirts with dusty gloom o\u2019ercast,\nAnd harsh with loud-voiced thunder, rain\nThick drops of blood upon the plain.\nSee, burning for the coming fight,\nMy shafts with wreaths of smoke are white,\nAnd my great bow embossed with gold\nThrobs eager for the master\u2019s hold.\nEach bird that through the forest flies\nSends out its melancholy cries.\nAll signs foretell the dangerous strife,\nThe jeopardy of limb and life.\nEach sight, each sound gives warning clear\nThat foemen meet and death is near.\nBut courage, valiant brother! well\nThe throbbings of mine arm foretell\nThat ruin waits the hostile powers,\nAnd triumph in the fight is ours.\nI hail the welcome omen: thou\nArt bright of face and clear of brow.\nFor Lakshma\u1e47, when the eye can trace\nA cloud upon the warrior\u2019s face\nStealing the cheerful light away,\nHis life is doomed in battle fray.\nList, brother, to that awful cry:\nWith shout and roar the fiends draw nigh.\nWith thundering beat of many a drum\nThe savage-hearted giants come.\nThe wise who value safety know\nTo meet, prepared, the coming blow:\nIn paths of prudence trained aright\nThey watch the stroke before it smite.\nTake thou thine arrows and thy bow,\nAnd with the Maithil lady go\nFor shelter to the mountain cave\nWhere thickest trees their branches wave.\nI will not have thee, Lakshma\u1e47, say\nOne word in answer, but obey.\nBy all thy honour for these feet\nOf mine, dear brother, I entreat.\nThy warlike arm, I know could, smite\nTo death these rovers of the night;\nBut I this day would fight alone\nTill all the fiends be overthrown.\u201d\nHe spake: and Lakshma\u1e47 answered naught:\nHis arrows and his bow he brought,\nAnd then with S\u00edt\u00e1 following hied\nFor shelter to the mountain side.\nAs Lakshma\u1e47 and the lady through\nThe forest to the cave withdrew,\n\u201c\u2019Tis well,\u201d cried R\u00e1ma. Then he braced\nHis coat of mail around his waist.\nWhen, bright as blazing fire, upon\nHis mighty limbs that armour shone,\nThe hero stood like some great light\nUprising in the dark of night.\nHis dreadful shafts were by his side;\nHis trusty bow he bent and plied,\nPrepared he stood: the bowstring rang,\nFilling the welkin with the clang.\n\n  The high-souled Gods together drew\nThe wonder of the fight to view,\nThe saints made free from spot and stain,\nAnd bright Gandharvas\u2019 heavenly train.\nEach glorious sage the assembly sought,\nEach saint divine of loftiest thought,\nAnd filled with zeal for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake.\nThus they whose deeds were holy spake:\n\n  \u201cNow be it well with Br\u00e1hmans, now\nWell with the worlds and every cow!\nLet R\u00e1ma in the deadly fray\nThe fiends who walk in darkness slay,\nAs He who bears the discus(464) slew\nThe chieftains of the Asur crew.\u201d\n\n  Then each with anxious glances viewed\nHis fellow and his speech renewed:\n\u201cThere twice seven thousand giants stand\nWith impious heart and cruel hand:\nHere R\u00e1ma stands, by virtue known:\nHow can the hero fight alone?\u201d\n\n  Thus royal sage and Br\u00e1hman saint,\nSpirit, and Virtue free from taint,\nAnd all the Gods of heaven who rode\nOn golden cars, their longing showed.\nTheir hearts with doubt and terror rent,\nThey saw the giants\u2019 armament,\nAnd R\u00e1ma clothed in warrior might,\nForth standing in the front of fight.\nLord of the arm no toil might tire,\nHe stood majestic in his ire,\nMatchless in form as Rudra(465) when\nHis wrath is fierce on Gods or men.\n\n  While Gods and saints in close array\nHeld converse of the coming fray,\nThe army of the fiends drew near\nWith sight and sound that counselled fear.\nLong, loud and deep their war-cry pealed,\nAs on they rushed with flag and shield,\nEach, of his proper valour proud,\nUrging to fight the demon crowd.\nHis ponderous bow each warrior tried,\nAnd swelled his bulk with martial pride.\n\u2019Mid shout and roar and trampling feet,\nAnd thunder of the drums they beat,\nLoud and more loud the tumult went\nThroughout the forest\u2019s vast extent,\nAnd all the life that moved within\nThe woodland trembled at the din.\nIn eager haste all fled to find\nSome tranquil spot, nor looked behind.\n\n  With every arm of war supplied,\nOn-rushing wildly like the tide\nOf some deep sea, the giant host\nApproached where R\u00e1ma kept his post.\nThen he, in battle skilled and tried,\nBent his keen eye on every side,\nAnd viewed the host of Khara face\nTo face before his dwelling-place.\nHe drew his arrows forth, and reared\nAnd strained that bow which foemen feared,\nAnd yielded to the vengeful sway\nOf fierce desire that host to slay.\nTerrific as the ruinous fire\nThat ends the worlds, he glowed in ire,\nAnd his tremendous form dismayed\nThe Gods who roam the forest shade.\nFor in the furious wrath that glowed\nWithin his soul the hero showed\nLike \u015aiva when his angry might\nStayed Daksha\u2019s sacrificial rite.(466)\nLike some great cloud at dawn of day\n  When first the sun upsprings,\nAnd o\u2019er the gloomy mass each ray\n  A golden radiance flings:\nThus showed the children of the night,\n  Whose mail and chariots threw,\nWith gleam of bows and armlets bright,\n  Flashes of flamy hue.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXV. The Battle.\n\n\nWhen Khara with the hosts he led\nDrew near to R\u00e1ma\u2019s leafy shed,\nHe saw that queller of the foe\nStand ready with his ordered bow.\nHe saw, and burning at the view\nHis clanging bow he raised and drew,\nAnd bade his driver urge apace\nHis car to meet him face to face.\nObedient to his master\u2019s hest\nHis eager steeds the driver pressed\nOn to the spot where, none to aid,\nThe strong-armed chief his weapon swayed.\nSoon as the children of the night\nSaw Khara rushing to the fight,\nHis lords with loud unearthly cry\nFollowed their chief and gathered nigh.\nAs in his car the leader rode\nWith all his lords around, he showed\nLike the red planet fiery Mars\nSurrounded by the lesser stars.\nThen with a horrid yell that rent\nThe air, the giant chieftain sent\nA thousand darts in rapid shower\nOn R\u00e1ma matchless in his power.\nThe rovers of the night, impelled\nBy fiery rage which naught withheld,\nUpon the unconquered prince, who strained\nHis fearful bow, their arrows rained.\nWith sword and club, with mace and pike,\nWith spear and axe to pierce and strike,\nThose furious fiends on every side\nThe unconquerable hero plied.\nThe giant legions huge and strong,\nLike clouds the tempest drives along,\nRushed upon R\u00e1ma with the speed\nOf whirling car, and mounted steed,\nAnd hill-like elephant, to slay\nThe matchless prince in battle fray.\nThen upon R\u00e1ma thick and fast\nThe rain of mortal steel they cast,\nAs labouring clouds their torrents shed\nUpon the mountain-monarch\u2019s(467) head.\nAs near and nearer round him drew\nThe warriors of the giant crew,\nHe showed like \u015aiva girt by all\nHis spirits when night\u2019s shadows fall.\nAs the great deep receives each rill\nAnd river rushing from the hill,\nHe bore that flood of darts, and broke\nWith well-aimed shaft each murderous stroke.\nBy stress of arrowy storm assailed,\nAnd wounded sore, he never failed,\nLike some high mountain which defies\nThe red bolts flashing from the skies.\nWith ruddy streams each limb was dyed\nFrom gaping wounds in breast and side,\nShowing the hero like the sun\n\u2019Mid crimson clouds ere day is done.\nThen, at that sight of terror, faint\nGrew God, Gandharva, sage, and saint,\nTrembling to see the prince oppose\nHis single might to myriad foes.\nBut waxing wroth, with force unspent,\nHe strained his bow to utmost bent,\nAnd forth his arrows keen and true\nIn hundreds, yea in thousands flew,\u2014\nShafts none could ward, and none endure:\nDeath\u2019s fatal noose was scarce so sure.\nAs \u2019twere in playful ease he shot\nHis gilded shafts, and rested not.\nWith swiftest flight and truest aim\nUpon the giant hosts they came.\nEach smote, each stayed a foeman\u2019s breath\nAs fatal as the coil of Death.\nEach arrow through a giant tore\nA passage, and besmeared with gore,\nPursued its onward way and through\nThe air with flamy brilliance flew.\nUnnumbered were the arrows sent\nFrom the great bow which R\u00e1ma bent,\nAnd every shaft with iron head\nThe lifeblood of a giant shed.\nTheir pennoned bows were cleft, nor mail\nNor shield of hide could aught avail.\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s myriad arrows tore\nThrough arms, and bracelets which they wore,\nAnd severed mighty warriors\u2019 thighs\nLike trunks of elephants in size,\nAnd cut resistless passage sheer\nThrough gold-decked horse and charioteer,\nSlew elephant and rider, slew\nThe horseman and the charger too,\nAnd infantry unnumbered sent\nTo dwell \u2019neath Y\u00e1ma\u2019s government.\nThen rose on high a fearful yell\nOf rovers of the night, who fell\nBeneath that iron torrent, sore\nWounded by shafts that rent and tore.\nSo mangled by the ceaseless storm\nOf shafts of every kind and form,\nSuch joy they found, as forests feel\nWhen scorched by flame, from R\u00e1ma\u2019s steel.\nThe mightiest still the fight maintained,\nAnd furious upon R\u00e1ma rained\nDart, arrow, spear, with wild attacks\nOf mace, and club, and battle-axe.\nBut the great chief, unconquered yet,\nTheir weapons with his arrows met,\nWhich severed many a giant\u2019s head,\nAnd all the plain with corpses spread.\nWith sundered bow and shattered shield\nHeadless they sank upon the field,\nAs the tall trees, that felt the blast\nOf Garu\u1e0d\u2019s wing, to earth were cast.\nThe giants left unslaughtered there\nWhere filled with terror and despair,\nAnd to their leader Khara fled\nFaint, wounded, and discomfited.\nThese fiery D\u00fasha\u1e47 strove to cheer,\nAnd poised his bow to calm their fear;\nThen fierce as He who rules the dead,\nWhen wroth, on angered R\u00e1ma sped.\nBy D\u00fasha\u1e47 cheered, the demons cast\nTheir dread aside and rallied fast\nWith S\u00e1ls, rocks, palm-trees in their hands\nWith nooses, maces, pikes, and brands,\nAgain upon the godlike man\nThe mighty fiends infuriate ran,\nThese casting rocks like hail, and these\nA whelming shower of leafy trees.\nWild, wondrous fight, the eye to scare,\nAnd raise on end each shuddering hair,\nAs with the fiends who loved to rove\nBy night heroic R\u00e1ma strove!\nThe giants in their fury plied\nR\u00e1ma with darts on every side.\nThen, by the gathering demons pressed\nFrom north and south and east and west,\nBy showers of deadly darts assailed\nFrom every quarter fiercely hailed,\nGirt by the foes who swarmed around,\nHe raised a mighty shout whose sound\nStruck terror. On the giant crew\nHis great Gandharva(468) arrow flew.\nA thousand mortal shafts were rained\nFrom the orbed bow the hero strained,\nTill east and west and south and north\nWere filled with arrows volleyed forth.\nThey heard the fearful shout: they saw\nHis mighty hand the bowstring draw,\nYet could no wounded giant\u2019s eye\nSee the swift storm of arrows fly.\nStill firm the warrior stood and cast\nHis deadly missiles thick and fast.\nDark grew the air with arrowy hail\nWhich hid the sun as with a veil.\nFiends wounded, falling, fallen, slain,\nAll in a moment, spread the plain,\nAnd thousands scarce alive were left\nMangled, and gashed, and torn, and cleft.\nDire was the sight, the plain o\u2019erspread\nWith trophies of the mangled dead.\nThere lay, by R\u00e1ma\u2019s missiles rent,\nFull many a priceless ornament,\nWith severed limb and broken gem,\nHauberk and helm and diadem.\nThere lay the shattered car, the steed,\nThe elephant of noblest breed,\nThe splintered spear, the shivered mace,\nChouris and screens to shade the face.\nThe giants saw with bitterest pain\nTheir warriors weltering on the plain,\nNor dared again his might oppose\nWho scourged the cities of his foes.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVI. D\u00fashan\u2019s Death.\n\n\nWhen D\u00fasha\u1e47 saw his giant band\nSlaughtered by R\u00e1ma\u2019s conquering hand,\nHe called five thousand fiends, and gave\nHis orders. Bravest of the brave,\nInvincible, of furious might,\nNe\u2019er had they turned their backs in flight.\nThey, as their leader bade them seize\nSpears, swords, and clubs, and rocks, and trees,\nPoured on the dauntless prince again\nA ceaseless shower of deadly rain.\nThe virtuous R\u00e1ma, undismayed,\nTheir missiles with his arrows stayed,\nAnd weakened, ere it fell, the shock\nOf that dire hail of tree and rock,\nAnd like a bull with eyelids closed,\nThe pelting of the storm opposed.\n\n  Then blazed his ire: he longed to smite\nTo earth the rovers of the night.\nThe wrath that o\u2019er his spirit came\nClothed him with splendour as of flame,\nWhile showers of mortal darts he poured\nFierce on the giants and their lord.\nD\u00fasha\u1e47, the foeman\u2019s dusky dread,\nBy frenzied rage inspirited,\nOn Raghu\u2019s son his missiles cast\nLike Indra\u2019s bolts which rend and blast.\nBut R\u00e1ma with a trenchant dart\nCleft D\u00fasha\u1e47\u2019s ponderous bow apart.\nAnd then the gold-decked steeds who drew\nThe chariot, with four shafts he slew.\nOne crescent dart he aimed which shred\nClean from his neck the driver\u2019s head;\nThree more with deadly skill addressed\nStood quivering in the giant\u2019s breast.\nHurled from his car, steeds, driver slain,\nThe bow he trusted cleft in twain,\nHe seized his mace, strong, heavy, dread,\nHigh as a mountain\u2019s towering head.\nWith plates of gold adorned and bound,\nEmbattled Gods it crushed and ground.\nIts iron spikes yet bore the stains\nOf mangled foemen\u2019s blood and brains.\nIts heavy mass of jagged steel\nWas like a thunderbolt to feel.\nIt shattered, as on foes it fell,\nThe city where the senses dwell.(469)\nFierce D\u00fasha\u1e47 seized that ponderous mace\nLike monstrous form of serpent race,\nAnd all his savage soul aglow\nWith fury, rushed upon the foe.\nBut Raghu\u2019s son took steady aim,\nAnd as the rushing giant came,\nShore with two shafts the arms whereon\nThe demon\u2019s glittering bracelets shone.\nHis arm at each huge shoulder lopped,\nThe mighty body reeled and dropped,\nAnd the great mace to earth was thrown\nLike Indra\u2019s staff when storms have blown.\nAs some vast elephant who lies\nShorn of his tusks, and bleeding dies,\nSo, when his arms were rent away,\nLow on the ground the giant lay.\nThe spirits saw the monster die,\nAnd loudly rang their joyful cry,\n\u201cHonour to R\u00e1ma! nobly done!\nWell hast thou fought, Kakutstha\u2019s son!\u201d\nBut the great three, the host who led,\nEnraged to see their chieftain dead,\nAs though Death\u2019s toils were round them cast,\nRushed upon R\u00e1ma fierce and fast,\nMah\u00e1kap\u00e1la seized, to strike\nHis foeman down, a ponderous pike:\nSth\u00fal\u00e1ksha charged with spear to fling,\nPram\u00e1thi with his axe to swing.\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw, with keen darts he\nReceived the onset of the three,\nAs calm as though he hailed a guest\nIn each, who came for shade and rest.\nMah\u00e1kap\u00e1la\u2019s monstrous head\nFell with the trenchant dart he sped.\nHis good right hand in battle skilled\nSth\u00fal\u00e1ksha\u2019s eyes with arrows filled,\nAnd trusting still his ready bow\nHe laid the fierce Pram\u00e1thi low,\nWho sank as some tall tree falls down\nWith bough and branch and leafy crown.\nThen with five thousand shafts he slew\nThe rest of D\u00fasha\u1e47\u2019s giant crew:\nFive thousand demons, torn and rent,\nTo Y\u00e1ma\u2019s gloomy realm he sent.\n\n  When Khara knew the fate of all\nThe giant band and D\u00fasha\u1e47\u2019s fall,\nHe called the mighty chiefs who led\nHis army, and in fury said:\n\n  \u201cNow D\u00fasha\u1e47 and his arm\u00e8d train\nLie prostrate on the battle plain.\nLead forth an army mightier still,\nR\u00e1ma this wretched man, to kill.\nFight ye with darts of every shape,\nNor let him from your wrath escape.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the fiend, by rage impelled,\nAnd straight his course toward R\u00e1ma held.\nWith \u015ayenag\u00e1m\u00ed and the rest\nOf his twelve chiefs he onward pressed,\nAnd every giant as he went\nA storm of well-wrought arrows sent.\nThen with his pointed shafts that came\nWith gold and diamond bright as flame,\nDead to the earth the hero threw\nThe remnant of the demon crew.\nThose shafts with feathers bright as gold,\nLike flames which wreaths of smoke enfold,\nSmote down the fiends like tall trees rent\nBy red bolts from the firmament.\nA hundred shafts he pointed well:\nBy their keen barbs a hundred fell:\nA thousand,\u2014and a thousand more\nIn battle\u2019s front lay drenched in gore.\nOf all defence and guard bereft,\nWith sundered bows and harness cleft.\nTheir bodies red with bloody stain\nFell the night-rovers on the plain,\nWhich, covered with the loosened hair\nOf bleeding giants prostrate there,\nLike some great altar showed, arrayed\nFor holy rites with grass o\u2019erlaid.\nThe darksome wood, each glade and dell\nWhere the wild demons fought and fell\nWas like an awful hell whose floor\nIs thick with mire and flesh and gore.\n\n  Thus twice seven thousand fiends, a band\nWith impious heart and bloody hand,\nBy Raghu\u2019s son were overthrown,\nA man, on foot, and all alone.\nOf all who met on that fierce day,\nKhara, great chief, survived the fray,\nThe monster of the triple head,(470)\nAnd Raghu\u2019s son, the foeman\u2019s dread.\nThe other demon warriors, all\nSkilful and brave and strong and tall,\nIn front of battle, side by side,\nStruck down by Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s brother died.\n  When Khara saw the host he led\n    Triumphant forth to fight\n  Stretched on the earth, all smitten dead,\n    By R\u00e1ma\u2019s nobler might,\n  Upon his foe he fiercely glared,\n    And drove against him fast,\n  Like Indra when his arm is bared\n    His thundering bolt to cast.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVII. The Death Of Trisir\u00e1s.\n\n\nBut Tri\u015bir\u00e1s,(471) a chieftain dread,\nMarked Khara as he onward sped.\nAnd met his car and cried, to stay\nThe giant from the purposed fray:\n\u201cMine be the charge: let me attack,\nAnd turn thee from the contest back.\nLet me go forth, and thou shalt see\nThe strong-armed R\u00e1ma slain by me.\nTrue are the words I speak, my lord:\nI swear it as I touch my sword:\nThat I this R\u00e1ma\u2019s blood will spill,\nWhom every giant\u2019s hand should kill.\nThis R\u00e1ma will I slay, or he\nIn battle fray shall conquer me.\nRestrain thy spirit: check thy car,\nAnd view the combat from afar.\nThou, joying o\u2019er the prostrate foe,\nTo Janasth\u00e1n again shalt go,\nOr, if I fall in battle\u2019s chance,\nAgainst my conqueror advance.\u201d\n\n  Thus Tri\u015bir\u00e1s for death who yearned:\nAnd Khara from the conflict turned,\n\u201cGo forth to battle,\u201d Khara cried;\nAnd toward his foe the giant hied.\nBorne on a car of glittering hue\nWhich harnessed coursers fleetly drew,\nLike some huge hill with triple peak\nHe onward rushed the prince to seek.\nStill, like a big cloud, sending out\nHis arrowy rain with many a shout\nLike the deep sullen roars that come\nDiscordant from a moistened drum.\nBut Raghu\u2019s son, whose watchful eye\nBeheld the demon rushing nigh,\nFrom the great bow he raised and bent\nA shower of shafts to meet him sent.\nWild grew the fight and wilder yet\nAs fiend and man in combat met,\nAs when in some dark wood\u2019s retreat\nAn elephant and a lion meet.\n\n  The giant bent his bow, and true\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s brow three arrows flew.\nThen, raging as he felt the stroke,\nThese words in anger R\u00e1ma spoke:\n\u201cHeroic chief! is such the power\nOf fiends who rove at midnight hour?\nSoft as the touch of flowers I feel\nThe gentle blows thine arrows deal.\nReceive in turn my shafts, and know\nWhat arrows fly from R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow.\u201d\nThus as he spoke his wrath grew hot,\nAnd twice seven deadly shafts he shot,\nWhich, dire as serpent\u2019s deadly fang,\nStraight to the giant\u2019s bosom sprang.\nFour arrows more,\u2014each shaped to deal\nA mortal wound with barb\u00e8d steel,\u2014\nThe glorious hero shot, and slew\nThe four good steeds the car that drew.\nEight other shafts flew straight and fleet,\nAnd hurled the driver from his seat,\nAnd in the dust the banner laid\nThat proudly o\u2019er the chariot played.\nThen as the fiend prepared to bound\nForth from his useless car to ground,\nThe hero smote him to the heart,\nAnd numbed his arm with deadly smart.\nAgain the chieftain, peerless-souled,\nSent forth three rapid darts, and rolled\nWith each keen arrow, deftly sped,\nLow in the dust a monstrous head.\nThen yielding to each deadly stroke,\nForth spouting streams of blood and smoke,\nThe headless trunk bedrenched with gore\nFell to the ground and moved no more.\nThe fiends who yet were left with life,\nRouted and crushed in battle strife,\nTo Khara\u2019s side, like trembling deer\nScared by the hunter, fled in fear.\nKing Khara saw with furious eye\nHis scattered giants turn and fly;\nThen rallying his broken train\nAt Raghu\u2019s son he drove amain,\nLike R\u00e1hu(472) when his deadly might\nComes rushing on the Lord of Night.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.\n\n\nBut when he turned his eye where bled\nBoth Tri\u015bir\u00e1s and D\u00fasha\u1e47 dead,\nFear o\u2019er the giant\u2019s spirit came\nOf R\u00e1ma\u2019s might which naught could tame.\nHe saw his savage legions, those\nWhose force no creature dared oppose,\u2014\nHe saw the leader of his train\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s single prowess slain.\nWith burning grief he marked the few\nStill left him of his giant crew.\nAs Namuchi(473) on Indra, so\nRushed the dread demon on his foe.\nHis mighty bow the monster strained,\nAnd angrily on R\u00e1ma rained\nHis mortal arrows in a flood,\nLike serpent fangs athirst for blood.\nSkilled in the bowman\u2019s warlike art,\nHe plied the string and poised the dart.\nHere, on his car, and there, he rode,\nAnd passages of battle showed,\nWhile all the skyey regions grew\nDark with his arrows as they flew.\nThen R\u00e1ma seized his ponderous bow,\nAnd straight the heaven was all aglow\nWith shafts whose stroke no life might bear\nThat filled with flash and flame the air,\nThick as the blinding torrents sent\nDown from Parjanya\u2019s(474) firmament.\nIn space itself no space remained,\nBut all was filled with arrows rained\nIncessantly from each great bow\nWielded by R\u00e1ma and his foe.\nAs thus in furious combat, wrought\nTo mortal hate, the warriors fought,\nThe sun himself grew faint and pale,\nObscured behind that arrowy veil.\n\n  As when beneath the driver\u2019s steel\nAn elephant is forced to kneel,\nSo from the hard and pointed head\nOf many an arrow R\u00e1ma bled.\nHigh on his car the giant rose\nPrepared in deadly strife to close,\nAnd all the spirits saw him stand\nLike Y\u00e1ma with his noose in hand.\nFor Khara deemed in senseless pride\nThat he, beneath whose hand had died\nThe giant legions, failed at length\nSlow sinking with exhausted strength.\nBut R\u00e1ma, like a lion, when\nA trembling deer comes nigh his den,\nFeared not the demon mad with hate,\u2014\nOf lion might and lion gait.\nThen in his lofty car that glowed\nWith sunlike brilliance Khara rode\nAt R\u00e1ma: madly on he came\nLike a poor moth that seeks the flame.\nHis archer skill the fiend displayed,\nAnd at the place where R\u00e1ma laid\nHis hand, an arrow cleft in two\nThe mighty bow the hero drew.\nSeven arrows by the giant sent,\nBright as the bolts of Indra, rent\nTheir way through mail and harness joints,\nAnd pierced him with their iron points.\nOn R\u00e1ma, hero unsurpassed,\nA thousand shafts smote thick and fast,\nWhile as each missile struck, rang out\nThe giant\u2019s awful battle-shout.\nHis knotted arrows pierced and tore\nThe sunbright mail the hero wore,\nTill, band and buckle rent away,\nGlittering on the ground it lay.\nThen pierced in shoulder, breast, and side,\nTill every limb with blood was dyed,\nThe chieftain in majestic ire\nShone glorious as the smokeless fire.\nThen loud and long the war-cry rose\nOf R\u00e1ma, terror of his foes,\nAs, on the giant\u2019s death intent,\nA ponderous bow he strung and bent,\u2014\nLord Vish\u1e47u\u2019s own, of wondrous size,\u2014\nAgastya gave the heavenly prize.\nThen rushing on the demon foe,\nHe raised on high that mighty bow,\nAnd with his well-wrought shafts, whereon\nBright gold between the feathers shone,\nHe struck the pennon fluttering o\u2019er\nThe chariot, and it waved no more.\nThat glorious flag whose every fold\nWas rich with blazonry and gold,\nFell as the sun himself by all\nThe Gods\u2019 decree might earthward fall.\nFrom wrathful Khara\u2019s hand, whose art\nWell knew each vulnerable part,\nFour keenly-piercing arrows flew,\nAnd blood in R\u00e1ma\u2019s bosom drew,\nWith every limb distained with gore\nFrom deadly shafts which rent and tore,\nFrom Khara\u2019s clanging bowstring shots,\nThe prince\u2019s wrath waxed wondrous hot.\nHis hand upon his bow that best\nOf mighty archers firmly pressed,\nAnd from the well-drawn bowstring, true\nEach to its mark, six arrows flew.\nOne quivered in the giant\u2019s head,\nWith two his brawny shoulders bled;\nThree, with the crescent heads they bore,\nDeep in his breast a passage tore.\nThirteen, to which the stone had lent\nThe keenest point, were swiftly sent\nOn the fierce giant, every one\nDestructive, gleaming like the sun.\nWith four the dappled steeds he slew;\nOne cleft the chariot yoke in two,\nOne, in the heat of battle sped,\nSmote from the neck the driver\u2019s head.\nThe poles were rent apart by three;\nTwo broke the splintered axle-tree.\nThen from the hand of R\u00e1ma, while\nAcross his lips there came a smile,\nThe twelfth, like thunderbolt impelled,\nCut the great hand and bow it held.\nThen, scarce by Indra\u2019s self surpassed,\nHe pierced the giant with the last.\nThe bow he trusted cleft in twain,\nHis driver and his horses slain,\nDown sprang the giant, mace in hand,\nOn foot against the foe to stand.\n  The Gods and saints in bright array\n    Close gathered in the skies,\n  The prince\u2019s might in battle-fray\n    Beheld with joyful eyes.\n  Uprising from their golden seats,\n    Their hands in honour raised,\n  They looked on R\u00e1ma\u2019s noble feats,\n    And blessed him as they praised.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIX. Khara\u2019s Defeat.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw the giant nigh,\nOn foot, alone, with mace reared high,\nIn mild reproof at first he spoke,\nThen forth his threatening anger broke:\n\u201cThou with the host \u2019twas thine to lead,\nWith elephant and car and steed,\nHast wrought an act of sin and shame,\nAn act which all who live must blame.\nKnow that the wretch whose evil mind\nJoys in the grief of human kind,\nThough the three worlds confess him lord,\nMust perish dreaded and abhorred.\nNight-rover, when a villain\u2019s deeds\nDistress the world he little heeds,\nEach hand is armed his life to take,\nAnd crush him like a deadly snake.\nThe end is near when men begin\nThrough greed or lust a life of sin,\nE\u2019en as a Br\u00e1hman\u2019s dame, unwise,\nEats of the fallen hail(475) and dies.\nThy hand has slain the pure and good,\nThe hermit saints of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood,\nOf holy life, the heirs of bliss;\nAnd thou shalt reap the fruit of this.\nNot long shall they whose cruel breasts\nJoy in the sin the world detests\nRetain their guilty power and pride,\nBut fade like trees whose roots are dried.\nYes, as the seasons come and go,\nEach tree its kindly fruit must show,\nAnd sinners reap in fitting time\nThe harvest of each earlier crime.\nAs those must surely die who eat\nUnwittingly of poisoned meat,\nThey too whose lives in sin are spent\nReceive ere long the punishment.\nAnd know, thou rover of the night,\nThat I, a king, am sent to smite\nThe wicked down, who court the hate\nOf men whose laws they violate.\nThis day my vengeful hand shall send\nShafts bright with gold to tear and rend,\nAnd pass with fury through thy breast\nAs serpents pierce an emmet\u2019s nest.\nThou with thy host this day shalt be\nAmong the dead below, and see\nThe saints beneath thy hand who bled,\nWhose flesh thy cruel maw has fed.\nThey, glorious on their seats of gold,\nTheir slayer shall in hell behold.\nFight with all strength thou callest thine,\nMean scion of ignoble line,\nStill, like the palm-tree\u2019s fruit, this day\nMy shafts thy head in dust shall lay.\u201d\n\n  Such were the words that R\u00e1ma said:\nThen Khara\u2019s eyes with wrath glowed red,\nWho, maddened by the rage that burned\nWithin him, with a smile returned:\n\n  \u201cThou Da\u015baratha\u2019s son, hast slain\nThe meaner giants of my train:\nAnd canst thou idly vaunt thy might\nAnd claim the praise not thine by right?\nNot thus in self-laudation rave\nThe truly great, the nobly brave:\nNo empty boasts like thine disgrace\nThe foremost of the human race.\nThe mean of soul, unknown to fame,\nWho taint their warrior race with shame,\nThus speak in senseless pride as thou,\nO Raghu\u2019s son, hast boasted now.\nWhat hero, when the war-cry rings,\nVaunts the high race from which he springs,\nOr seeks, when warriors meet and die,\nHis own descent to glorify?\nWeakness and folly show confessed\nIn every vaunt thou utterest,\nAs when the flames fed high with grass\nDetect the simulating brass.\nDost thou not see me standing here\nArmed with the mighty mace I rear,\nFirm as an earth upholding hill\nWhose summit veins of metal fill?\nLo, here I stand before thy face\nTo slay thee with my murderous mace,\nAs Death, the universal lord,\nStands threatening with his fatal cord.\nEnough of this. Much more remains\nThat should be said: but time constrains.\nEre to his rest the sun descend,\nAnd shades of night the combat end,\nThe twice seven thousand of my band\nWho fell beneath thy bloody hand\nShall have their tears all wiped away\nAnd triumph in thy fall to-day.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and loosing from his hold\nHis mighty mace ringed round with gold,\nLike some red bolt alive with fire\nHurled it at R\u00e1ma, mad with ire.\nThe ponderous mace which Khara threw\nSent fiery flashes as it flew.\nTrees, shrubs were scorched beneath the blast,\nAs onward to its aim it passed.\nBut R\u00e1ma, watching as it sped\nDire as His noose who rules the dead,\nCleft it with arrows as it came\nOn rushing with a hiss and flame.\nIts fury spent and burnt away,\nHarmless upon the ground it lay\nLike a great snake in furious mood\nBy herbs of numbing power subdued.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXX. Khara\u2019s Death.\n\n\n  When R\u00e1ma, pride of Raghu\u2019s race,\nVirtue\u2019s dear son, had cleft the mace,\nThus with superior smile the best\nOf chiefs the furious fiend addressed:\n\n  \u201cThou, worst of giant blood, at length\nHast shown the utmost of thy strength,\nAnd forced by greater might to bow,\nThy vaunting threats are idle now.\nMy shafts have cut thy club in twain:\nUseless it lies upon the plain,\nAnd all thy pride and haughty trust\nLie with it levelled in the dust.\nThe words that thou hast said to-day,\nThat thou wouldst wipe the tears away\nOf all the giants I have slain,\nMy deeds shall render void and vain.\nThou meanest of the giants\u2019 breed,\nEvil in thought and word and deed,\nMy hand shall take that life of thine\nAs Garu\u1e0d(476) seized the juice divine.\nThou, rent by shafts, this day shalt die:\nLow on the ground thy corse shall lie,\nAnd bubbles from the cloven neck\nWith froth and blood thy skin shall deck.\nWith dust and mire all rudely dyed,\nThy torn arms lying by thy side,\nWhile streams of blood each limb shall steep,\nThou on earth\u2019s breast shalt take thy sleep\nLike a fond lover when he strains\nThe beauty whom at length he gains.\nNow when thy heavy eyelids close\nFor ever in thy deep repose,\nAgain shall Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest be\nSafe refuge for the devotee.\nThou slain, and all thy race who held\nThe realm of Janasth\u00e1n expelled,\nAgain shall happy hermits rove,\nFearing no danger, through the grove.\nWithin those bounds, their brethren slain,\nNo giant shall this day remain,\nBut all shall fly with many a tear\nAnd fearing, rid the saints of fear.\nThis bitter day shall misery bring\nOn all the race that calls thee king.\nFierce as their lord, thy dames shall know,\nBereft of joys, the taste of woe.\nBase, cruel wretch, of evil mind,\nPlaguer of Br\u00e1hmans and mankind,\nWith trembling hands each devotee\nFeeds holy fires in dread of thee.\u201d\n\n  Thus with wild fury unrepressed\nRaghu\u2019s brave son the fiend addressed;\nAnd Khara, as his wrath grew high,\nThus thundered forth his fierce reply:\n\n  \u201cBy senseless pride to madness wrought,\nBy danger girt thou fearest naught,\nNor heedest, numbered with the dead,\nWhat thou shouldst say and leave unsaid.\nWhen Fate\u2019s tremendous coils enfold\nThe captive in resistless hold,\nHe knows not right from wrong, each sense\nNumbed by that deadly influence.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and when his speech was done\nBent his fierce brows on Raghu\u2019s son.\nWith eager eyes he looked around\nIf lethal arms might yet be found.\nNot far away and full in view\nA S\u00e1l-tree towering upward grew.\nHis lips in mighty strain compressed,\nHe tore it up with root and crest,\nWith huge arms waved it o\u2019er his head\nAnd hurled it shouting, Thou art dead.\nBut R\u00e1ma, unsurpassed in might,\nStayed with his shafts its onward flight,\nAnd furious longing seized his soul\nThe giant in the dust to roll.\nGreat drops of sweat each limb bedewed,\nHis red eyes showed his wrathful mood.\nA thousand arrows, swiftly sent,\nThe giant\u2019s bosom tore and rent.\nFrom every gash his body showed\nThe blood in foamy torrents flowed,\nAs springing from their caverns leap\nSwift rivers down the mountain steep.\nWhen Khara felt each deadened power\nYielding beneath that murderous shower,\nHe charged, infuriate with the scent\nOf blood, in dire bewilderment.\nBut R\u00e1ma watched, with ready bow,\nThe onset of his bleeding foe,\nAnd ere the monster reached him, drew\nBackward in haste a yard or two.\nThen from his side a shaft he took\nWhose mortal stroke no life might brook:\nOf peerless might, it bore the name\nOf Brahm\u00e1\u2019s staff, and glowed with flame:\nLord Indra, ruler of the skies,\nHimself had given the glorious prize.\nHis bow the virtuous hero drew,\nAnd at the fiend the arrow flew.\nHissing and roaring like the blast\nOf tempest through the air it passed,\nAnd fixed, by R\u00e1ma\u2019s vigour sped,\nIn the foe\u2019s breast its pointed head.\nThen fell the fiend: the quenchless flame\nBurnt furious in his wounded frame.\nSo burnt by Rudra Andhak(477) fell\nIn \u015avet\u00e1ra\u1e47ya\u2019s silvery dell:\nSo Namuchi and Vritra(478) died\nBy steaming bolts that tamed their pride:\nSo Bala(479) fell by lightning sent\nBy Him who rules the firmament.\n\n  Then all the Gods in close array\nWith the bright hosts who sing and play,\nFilled full of rapture and amaze,\nSang hymns of joy in R\u00e1ma\u2019s praise,\nBeat their celestial drums and shed\nRain of sweet flowers upon his head.\nFor three short hours had scarcely flown,\nAnd by his pointed shafts o\u2019erthrown\nThe twice seven thousand fiends, whose will\nCould change their shapes, in death were still,\nWith Tri\u015bir\u00e1s and D\u00fasha\u1e47 slain,\nAnd Khara, leader of the train.\n\u201cO wondrous deed,\u201d the bards began,\n\u201cThe noblest deed of virtuous man!\nHeroic strength that stood alone,\nAnd firmness e\u2019en as Vish\u1e47u\u2019s own!\u201d\n\n  Thus having sung, the shining train\nTurned to their heavenly homes again.\nThen the high saints of royal race\nAnd loftiest station sought the place,\nAnd by the great Agastya led,\nWith reverence to R\u00e1ma said:\n\n  \u201cFor this, Lord Indra, glorious sire,\nMajestic as the burning fire,\nWho crushes cities in his rage,\nSought \u015aarabhanga\u2019s hermitage.\nThou wast, this great design to aid,\nLed by the saints to seek this shade,\nAnd with thy mighty arm to kill\nThe giants who delight in ill.\nThou Da\u015baratha\u2019s noble son,\nThe battle for our sake hast won,\nAnd saints in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s wild who live\nTheir days to holy tasks can give.\u201d\n\n  Forth from the mountain cavern came\nThe hero Lakshma\u1e47 with the dame.\nAnd rapture beaming from his face,\nResought the hermit dwelling-place.\nThen when the mighty saints had paid\nDue honour for the victor\u2019s aid,\nThe glorious R\u00e1ma honoured too\nBy Lakshma\u1e47 to his cot withdrew.\nWhen S\u00edt\u00e1 looked upon her lord,\nHis foemen slain, the saints restored,\nIn pride and rapture uncontrolled\nShe clasped him in her loving hold.\nOn the dead fiends her glances fell:\nShe saw her lord alive and well,\nVictorious after toil and pain,\nAnd Janak\u2019s child was blest again.\nOnce more, once more with new delight\n  Her tender arms she threw\nRound R\u00e1ma whose victorious might\n  Had crushed the demon crew.\nThen as his grateful reverence paid\n  Each saint of lofty soul,\nO\u2019er her sweet face, all fears allayed,\n  The flush of transport stole.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXI. R\u00e1van.\n\n\nBut of the host of giants one,\nAkampan, from the field had run\nAnd sped to Lank\u00e1(480) to relate\nIn R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s ear the demons\u2019 fate:\n\n  \u201cKing, many a giant from the shade\nOf Janasth\u00e1n in death is laid:\nKhara the chief is slain, and I\nCould scarcely from the battle fly.\u201d\n\n  Fierce anger, as the monarch heard,\nInflamed his look, his bosom stirred,\nAnd while with scorching glance he eyed\nThe messenger, he thus replied:\n\n  \u201cWhat fool has dared, already dead,\nStrike Janasth\u00e1n, the general dread?\nWho is the wretch shall vainly try\nIn earth, heaven, hell, from me to fly?\nVai\u015brava\u1e47,(481) Indra, Vish\u1e47u, He\nWho rules the dead, must reverence me;\nFor not the mightiest lord of these\nCan brave my will and live at ease.\nFate finds in me a mightier fate\nTo burn the fires that devastate.\nWith unresisted influence I\nCan force e\u2019en Death himself to die,\nWith all-surpassing might restrain\nThe fury of the hurricane,\nAnd burn in my tremendous ire\nThe glory of the sun and fire.\u201d\n\n  As thus the fiend\u2019s hot fury blazed,\nHis trembling hands Akampan raised,\nAnd with a voice which fear made weak,\nPermission craved his tale to speak.\nKing R\u00e1va\u1e47 gave the leave he sought,\nAnd bade him tell the news he brought.\nHis courage rose, his voice grew bold,\nAnd thus his mournful tale he told:\n\n  \u201cA prince with mighty shoulders, sprung\nFrom Da\u015baratha, brave and young,\nWith arms well moulded, bears the name\nOf R\u00e1ma with a lion\u2019s frame.\nRenowned, successful, dark of limb,\nEarth has no warrior equals him.\nHe fought in Janasth\u00e1n and slew\nD\u00fasha\u1e47 the fierce and Khara too.\u201d\n\n  R\u00e1va\u1e47 the giants\u2019 royal chief.\nReceived Akampan\u2019s tale of grief.\nThen, panting like an angry snake,\nThese words in turn the monarch spake:\n\n  \u201cSay quick, did R\u00e1ma seek the shade\nOf Janasth\u00e1n with Indra\u2019s aid,\nAnd all the dwellers in the skies\nTo back his hardy enterprise?\u201d\n\n  Akampan heard, and straight obeyed\nHis master, and his answer made.\nThen thus the power and might he told\nOf Raghu\u2019s son the lofty-souled:\n\n  \u201cBest is that chief of all who know\nWith deftest art to draw the bow.\nHis are strange arms of heavenly might,\nAnd none can match him in the fight.\nHis brother Lakshma\u1e47 brave as he,\nFair as the rounded moon to see,\nWith eyes like night and voice that comes\nDeep as the roll of beaten drums,\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s side stands ever near,\nLike wind that aids the flame\u2019s career.\nThat glorious chief, that prince of kings,\nOn Janasth\u00e1n this ruin brings.\nNo Gods were there,\u2014dismiss the thought\nNo heavenly legions came and fought.\nHis swift-winged arrows R\u00e1ma sent,\nEach bright with gold and ornament.\nTo serpents many-faced they turned:\nThe giant hosts they ate and burned.\nWhere\u2019er these fled in wild dismay\nR\u00e1ma was there to strike and slay.\nBy him O King of high estate,\nIs Janasth\u00e1n left desolate.\u201d\n\n  Akampan ceased: in angry pride\nThe giant monarch thus replied:\n\u201cTo Janasth\u00e1n myself will go\nAnd lay these daring brothers low.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the king in furious mood:\nAkampan then his speech renewed:\n\u201cO listen while I tell at length\nThe terror of the hero\u2019s strength.\nNo power can check, no might can tame\nR\u00e1ma, a chief of noblest fame.\nHe with resistless shafts can stay\nThe torrent foaming on its way.\nSky, stars, and constellations, all\nTo his fierce might would yield and fall.\nHis power could earth itself uphold\nDown sinking as it sank of old.(482)\nOr all its plains and cities drown,\nBreaking the wild sea\u2019s barrier down;\nCrush the great deep\u2019s impetuous will,\nOr bid the furious wind be still.\nHe glorious in his high estate\nThe triple world could devastate,\nAnd there, supreme of men, could place\nHis creatures of a new-born race.\nNever can mighty R\u00e1ma be\nO\u2019ercome in fight, my King, by thee.\nThy giant host the day might win\nFrom him, if heaven were gained by sin.\nIf Gods were joined with demons, they\nCould ne\u2019er, I ween, that hero slay,\nBut guile may kill the wondrous man;\nAttend while I disclose the plan.\nHis wife, above all women graced,\nIs S\u00edt\u00e1 of the dainty waist,\nWith limbs to fair proportion true,\nAnd a soft skin of lustrous hue,\nRound neck and arm rich gems are twined:\nShe is the gem of womankind.\nWith her no bright Gandharv\u00ed vies,\nNo nymph or Goddess in the skies;\nAnd none to rival her would dare\n\u2019Mid dames who part the long black hair.\nThat hero in the wood beguile,\nAnd steal his lovely spouse the while.\nReft of his darling wife, be sure,\nBrief days the mourner will endure.\u201d\n\n  With flattering hope of triumph moved\nThe giant king that plan approved,\nPondered the counsel in his breast,\nAnd then Akampan thus addressed:\n\u201cForth in my car I go at morn,\nNone but the driver with me borne,\nAnd this fair S\u00edt\u00e1 will I bring\nBack to my city triumphing.\u201d\n\n  Forth in his car by asses drawn\nThe giant monarch sped at dawn,\nBright as the sun, the chariot cast\nLight through the sky as on it passed.\nThen high in air that best of cars\nTraversed the path of lunar stars,\nSending a fitful radiance pale\nAs moonbeams shot through cloudy veil.\nFar on his airy way he flew:\nNear T\u00e1\u1e0dakeya\u2019s(483) grove he drew.\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha welcomed him, and placed\nBefore him food which giants taste,\nWith honour led him to a seat,\nAnd brought him water for his feet;\nAnd then with timely words addressed\nSuch question to his royal guest:\n\n  \u201cSpeak, is it well with thee whose sway\nThe giant multitudes obey?\nI know not all, and ask in fear\nThe cause, O King, why thou art here.\u201d\n\n  R\u00e1va, the giants\u2019 mighty king,\nHeard wise M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s questioning,\nAnd told with ready answer, taught\nIn eloquence, the cause he sought:\n\u201cMy guards, the bravest of my band,\nAre slain by R\u00e1ma\u2019s vigorous hand,\nAnd Janasth\u00e1n, that feared no hate\nOf foes, is rendered desolate.\nCome, aid me in the plan I lay\nTo steal the conqueror\u2019s wife away.\u201d\n\n  M\u00e1r\u00edcha heard the king\u2019s request,\nAnd thus the giant chief addressed:\n\n  \u201cWhat foe in friendly guise is he\nWho spoke of S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s name to thee?\nWho is the wretch whose thought would bring\nDestruction on the giants\u2019 king?\nWhose is the evil counsel, say,\nThat bids thee bear his wife away,\nAnd careless of thy life provoke\nEarth\u2019s loftiest with threatening stroke?\nA foe is he who dared suggest\nThis hopeless folly to thy breast,\nWhose ill advice would bid thee draw\nThe venomed fang from serpent\u2019s jaw.\nBy whose unwise suggestion led\nWilt thou the path of ruin tread?\nWhence falls the blow that would destroy\nThy gentle sleep of ease and joy?\n  Like some wild elephant is he\n    That rears his trunk on high,\n  Lord of an ancient pedigree,\n    Huge tusks, and furious eye.\n  R\u00e1va\u1e47, no rover of the night\n    With bravest heart can brook,\n  Met in the front of deadly fight,\n    On Raghu\u2019s son to look.\n  The giant hosts were brave and strong,\n    Good at the bow and spear:\n  But R\u00e1ma slew the routed throng,\n    A lion \u2019mid the deer.\n  No lion\u2019s tooth can match his sword,\n    Or arrows fiercely shot:\n  He sleeps, he sleeps\u2014the lion lord;\n    Be wise and rouse him not.\n  O Monarch of the giants, well\n    Upon my counsel think,\n  Lest thou for ever in the hell\n    Of R\u00e1ma\u2019s vengeance sink:\n  A hell, where deadly shafts are sent\n    From his tremendous-bow,\n  While his great arms all flight prevent,\n    Like deepest mire below:\n  Where the wild floods of battle rave\n    Above the foeman\u2019s head,\n  And each with many a feathery wave\n    Of shafts is garlanded.\n  O, quench the flames that in thy breast\n    With raging fury burn;\n  And pacified and self-possessed\n    To Lank\u00e1\u2019s town return.\n  Rest thou in her imperial bowers\n    With thine own wives content,\n  And in the wood let R\u00e1ma\u2019s hours\n    With S\u00edt\u00e1 still be spent.\u201d\n\n  The lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle obeyed\nThe counsel, and his purpose stayed.\nBorne on his car he parted thence\nAnd gained his royal residence.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXII. R\u00e1van Roused.\n\n\nBut \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 saw the plain\nSpread with the fourteen thousand slain,\nDoers of cruel deeds o\u2019erthrown\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s mighty arm alone,\nAdd Tri\u015bir\u00e1s and D\u00fasha\u1e47 dead,\nAnd Khara, with the hosts they led.\nTheir death she saw, and mad with pain,\nRoared like a cloud that brings the rain,\nAnd fled in anger and dismay\nTo Lank\u00e1, seat of R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s sway.\nThere on a throne of royal state\nExalted sat the potentate,\nBegirt with counsellor and peer,\nLike Indra with the Storm Gods near.\nBright as the sun\u2019s full splendour shone\nThe glorious throne he sat upon,\nAs when the blazing fire is red\nUpon a golden altar fed.\nWide gaped his mouth at every breath,\nTremendous as the jaws of Death.\nWith him high saints of lofty thought,\nGandharvas, Gods, had vainly fought.\nThe wounds were on his body yet\nFrom wars where Gods and demons met.\nAnd scars still marked his ample chest\nBy fierce Air\u00e1vat\u2019s(484) tusk impressed.\nA score of arms, ten necks, had he,\nHis royal gear was brave to see.\nHis massive form displayed each sign\nThat marks the heir of kingly line.\nIn stature like a mountain height,\nHis arms were strong, his teeth were white,\nAnd all his frame of massive mould\nSeemed lazulite adorned with gold.\nA hundred seams impressed each limp\nWhere Vish\u1e47u\u2019s arm had wounded him,\nAnd chest and shoulder bore the print\nOf sword and spear and arrow dint,\nWhere every God had struck a blow\nIn battle with the giant foe.\nHis might to wildest rage could wake\nThe sea whose faith naught else can shake,\nHurl towering mountains to the earth,\nAnd crush e\u2019en foes of heavenly birth.\nThe bonds of law and right he spurned:\nTo others\u2019 wives his fancy turned.\nCelestial arms he used in fight,\nAnd loved to mar each holy rite.\nHe went to Bhogavat\u00ed\u2019s town,(485)\nWhere V\u00e1suki was beaten down,\nAnd stole, victorious in the strife,\nLord Takshaka\u2019s beloved wife.\nKail\u00e1sa\u2019s lofty crest he sought,\nAnd when in vain Kuvera fought,\nStole Pushpak thence, the car that through\nThe air, as willed the master, flew.\nImpelled by furious anger, he\nSpoiled Nandan\u2019s(486) shade and Nalin\u00ed,\nAnd Chaitraratha\u2019s heavenly grove,\nThe haunts where Gods delight to rove.\nTall as a hill that cleaves the sky,\nHe raised his mighty arms on high\nTo check the blessed moon, and stay\nThe rising of the Lord of Day.\nTen thousand years the giant spent\nOn dire austerities intent,\nAnd of his heads an offering, laid\nBefore the Self-existent, made.\nNo God or fiend his life could take,\nGandharva, goblin, bird, or snake:\nSafe from all fears of death, except\nFrom human arm, that life was kept.\nOft when the priests began to raise\nTheir consecrating hymns of praise,\nHe spoiled the Soma\u2019s sacred juice\nPoured forth by them in solemn use.\nThe sacrifice his hands o\u2019erthrew,\nAnd cruelly the Br\u00e1hmans slew.\nHis was a heart that naught could melt,\nJoying in woes which others felt.\n\n  She saw the ruthless monster there,\nDread of the worlds, unused to spare.\nIn robes of heavenly texture dressed,\nCelestial wreaths adorned his breast.\nHe sat a shape of terror, like\nDestruction ere the worlds it strike.\nShe saw him in his pride of place,\nThe joy of old Pulastya\u2019s(487) race,\nBegirt by counsellor and peer,\nR\u00e1va\u1e47, the foeman\u2019s mortal fear,\nAnd terror in her features shown,\nThe giantess approached the throne.\n  Then \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 bearing yet\n    Each deeply printed trace\n  Where the great-hearted chief had set\n    A mark upon her face,\n  Impelled by terror and desire,\n    Still fierce, no longer bold,\n  To R\u00e1va\u1e47 of the eyes of fire\n    Her tale, infuriate, told.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIII. S\u00farpanakh\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nBurning with anger, in the ring\nOf counsellors who girt their king,\nTo R\u00e1va\u1e47, ravener of man,\nWith bitter words she thus began:\n\n  \u201cWilt thou absorbed in pleasure, still\nPursue unchecked thy selfish will:\nNor turn thy heedless eyes to see\nThe coming fate which threatens thee?\nThe king who days and hours employs\nIn base pursuit of vulgar joys\nMust in his people\u2019s sight be vile\nAs fire that smokes on funeral pile.\nHe who when duty calls him spares\nNo time for thought of royal cares,\nMust with his realm and people all\nInvolved in fatal ruin fall.\nAs elephants in terror shrink\nFrom the false river\u2019s miry brink,\nThus subjects from a monarch flee\nWhose face their eyes may seldom see,\nWho spends the hours for toil ordained\nIn evil courses unrestrained.\nHe who neglects to guard and hold\nHis kingdom by himself controlled,\nSinks nameless like a hill whose head\nIs buried in the ocean\u2019s bed.\nThy foes are calm and strong and wise,\nFiends, Gods, and warriors of the skies,\u2014\nHow, heedless, wicked, weak, and vain,\nWilt thou thy kingly state maintain?\nThou, lord of giants, void of sense,\nSlave of each changing influence,\nHeedless of all that makes a king,\nDestruction on thy head wilt bring.\nO conquering chief, the prince, who boasts,\nOf treasury and rule and hosts,\nBy others led, though lord of all,\nIs meaner than the lowest thrall.\nFor this are monarchs said to be\nLong-sighted, having power to see\nThings far away by faithful eyes\nOf messengers and loyal spies.\nBut aid from such thou wilt not seek:\nThy counsellors are blind and weak,\nOr thou from these hadst surely known\nThy legions and thy realm o\u2019erthrown.\nKnow, twice seven thousand, fierce in might,\nAre slain by R\u00e1ma in the fight,\nAnd they, the giant host who led,\nKhara and D\u00fasha\u1e47, both are dead.\nKnow, R\u00e1ma with his conquering arm\nHas freed the saints from dread of harm,\nHas smitten Janasth\u00e1n and made\nAsylum safe in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s shade.\nEnslaved and dull, of blinded sight,\nIntoxicate with vain delight,\nThou closest still thy heedless eyes\nTo dangers in thy realm that rise.\nA king besotted, mean, unkind,\nOf niggard hand and slavish mind.\nWill find no faithful followers heed\nTheir master in his hour of need.\nThe friend on whom he most relies,\nIn danger, from a monarch flies,\nImperious in his high estate,\nConceited, proud, and passionate;\nWho ne\u2019er to state affairs attends\nWith wholesome fear when woe impends\nMost weak and worthless as the grass,\nSoon from his sway the realm will pass.\nFor rotting wood a use is found,\nFor clods and dust that strew the ground,\nBut when a king has lost his sway,\nUseless he falls, and sinks for aye.\nAs raiment by another worn,\nAs faded garland crushed and torn,\nSo is, unthroned, the proudest king,\nThough mighty once, a useless thing.\nBut he who every sense subdues\nAnd each event observant views,\nRewards the good and keeps from wrong,\nShall reign secure and flourish long.\nThough lulled in sleep his senses lie\nHe watches with a ruler\u2019s eye,\nUntouched by favour, ire, and hate,\nAnd him the people celebrate.\nO weak of mind, without a trace\nOf virtues that a king should grace,\nWho hast not learnt from watchful spy\nThat low in death the giants lie.\nScorner of others, but enchained\n    By every base desire,\n  By thee each duty is disdained\n    Which time and place require.\n  Soon wilt thou, if thou canst not learn,\n    Ere yet it be too late,\n  The good from evil to discern,\n    Fall from thy high estate.\u201d\n  As thus she ceased not to upbraid\n    The king with cutting speech,\n  And every fault to view displayed,\n    Naming and marking each,\n  The monarch of the sons of night,\n    Of wealth and power possessed,\n  And proud of his imperial might,\n    Long pondered in his breast.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIV. S\u00farpanakh\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThen forth the giant\u2019s fury broke\nAs \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1 harshly spoke.\nGirt by his lords the demon king\nLooked on her, fiercely questioning:\n\n  \u201cWho is this R\u00e1ma, whence, and where?\nHis form, his might, his deeds declare.\nHis wandering steps what purpose led\nTo Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest, hard to tread?\nWhat arms are his that he could smite\nIn fray the rovers of the night,\nAnd Tri\u015bir\u00e1s and D\u00fasha\u1e47 lay\nLow on the earth, and Khara slay?\nTell all, my sister, and declare\nWho maimed thee thus, of form most fair.\u201d\n\n  Thus by the giant king addressed,\nWhile burnt her fury unrepressed,\nThe giantess declared at length\nThe hero\u2019s form and deeds and strength:\n\n  \u201cLong are his arms and large his eyes:\nA black deer\u2019s skin his dress supplies.\nKing Da\u015baratha\u2019s son is he,\nFair as Kandarpa\u2019s self to see.\nAdorned with many a golden band,\nA bow, like Indra\u2019s, arms his hand,\nAnd shoots a flood of arrows fierce\nAs venomed snakes to burn and pierce.\nI looked, I looked, but never saw\nHis mighty hand the bowstring draw\nThat sent the deadly arrows out,\nWhile rang through air his battle-shout.\nI looked, I looked, and saw too well\nHow with that hail the giants fell,\nAs falls to earth the golden grain,\nStruck by the blows of Indra\u2019s rain.\nHe fought, and twice seven thousand, all\nTerrific giants, strong and tall,\nFell by the pointed shafts o\u2019erthrown\nWhich R\u00e1ma shot on foot, alone.\nThree little hours had scarcely fled,\u2014\nKhara and D\u00fasha\u1e47 both were dead,\nAnd he had freed the saints and made\nAsylum sure in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s shade.\nMe of his grace the victor spared,\nOr I the giants\u2019 fate had shared.\nThe high-souled R\u00e1ma would not deign\nHis hand with woman\u2019s blood to stain.\nThe glorious Lakshma\u1e47, justly dear,\nIn gifts and warrior might his peer,\nServes his great brother with the whole\nDevotion of his faithful soul:\nImpetuous victor, bold and wise,\nFirst in each hardy enterprise,\nStill ready by his side to stand,\nA second self or better hand.\nAnd R\u00e1ma has a large-eyed spouse,\nPure as the moon her cheek and brows,\nDearer than life in R\u00e1ma\u2019s sight,\nWhose happiness is her delight.\nWith beauteous hair and nose the dame\nFrom head to foot has naught to blame.\nShe shines the wood\u2019s bright Goddess, Queen\nOf beauty with her noble mien.\nFirst in the ranks of women placed\nIs S\u00edt\u00e1 of the dainty waist.\nIn all the earth mine eyes have ne\u2019er\nSeen female form so sweetly fair.\nGoddess nor nymph can vie with her,\nNor bride of heavenly chorister.\nHe who might call this dame his own,\nHer eager arms about him thrown,\nWould live more blest in S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s love\nThan Indra in the world above.\nShe, peerless in her form and face\nAnd rich in every gentle grace,\nIs worthy bride, O King, for thee,\nAs thou art meet her lord to be.\nI even I, will bring the bride\nIn triumph to her lover\u2019s side\u2014\nThis beauty fairer than the rest,\nWith rounded limb and heaving breast.\nEach wound upon my face I owe\nTo cruel Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s savage blow.\nBut thou, O brother, shalt survey\nHer moonlike loveliness to-day,\nAnd K\u00e1ma\u2019s piercing shafts shall smite\nThine amorous bosom at the sight.\nIf in thy breast the longing rise\nTo make thine own the beauteous prize,\nUp, let thy better foot begin\nThe journey and the treasure win.\nIf, giant Lord, thy favouring eyes\nRegard the plan which I advise,\nUp, cast all fear and doubt away\nAnd execute the words I say\nCome, giant King, this treasure seek,\nFor thou art strong and they are weak.\nLet S\u00edt\u00e1 of the faultless frame\nBe borne away and be thy dame.\nThy host in Janasth\u00e1n who dwelt\n  Forth to the battle hied.\nAnd by the shafts which R\u00e1ma dealt\n  They perished in their pride.\nD\u00fasha\u1e47 and Khara breathe no more,\n  Laid low upon the plain.\nArise, and ere the day be o\u2019er\n  Take vengeance for the slain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXV. R\u00e1van\u2019s Journey.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1va\u1e47, by her fury spurred,\nThat terrible advice had heard,\nHe bade his nobles quit his side,\nAnd to the work his thought applied.\nHe turned his anxious mind to scan\nOn every side the hardy plan:\nThe gain against the risk he laid,\nEach hope and fear with care surveyed,\nAnd in his heart at length decreed\nTo try performance of the deed.\nThen steady in his dire intent\nThe giant to the courtyard went.\nThere to his charioteer he cried,\n\u201cBring forth the car whereon I ride.\u201d\nAye ready at his master\u2019s word\nThe charioteer the order heard,\nAnd yoked with active zeal the best\nOf chariots at his lord\u2019s behest.\nAsses with heads of goblins drew\nThat wondrous car where\u2019er it flew.\nObedient to the will it rolled\nAdorned with gems and glistering gold.\nThen mounting, with a roar as loud\nAs thunder from a labouring cloud,\nThe mighty monarch to the tide\nOf Ocean, lord of rivers, hied.\nWhite was the shade above him spread,\nWhite chouris waved around his head,\nAnd he with gold and jewels bright\nShone like the glossy lazulite.\nTen necks and twenty arms had he:\nHis royal gear was good to see.\nThe heavenly Gods\u2019 insatiate foe,\nWho made the blood of hermits flow,\nHe like the Lord of Hills appeared\nWith ten huge heads to heaven upreared.\nIn the great car whereon he rode,\nLike some dark cloud the giant showed,\nWhen round it in their close array\nThe cranes \u2019mid wreaths of lightning play.\nHe looked, and saw, from realms of air,\nThe rocky shore of ocean, where\nUnnumbered trees delightful grew\nWith flower and fruit of every hue.\nHe looked on many a lilied pool\nWith silvery waters fresh and cool,\nAnd shores like spacious altars meet\nFor holy hermits\u2019 lone retreat.\nThe graceful palm adorned the scene,\nThe plantain waved her glossy green.\nThere grew the s\u00e1l and betel, there\nOn bending boughs the flowers were fair.\nThere hermits dwelt who tamed each sense\nBy strictest rule of abstinence:\nGandharvas, Kinnars,(488) thronged the place,\nN\u00e1gas and birds of heavenly race.\nBright minstrels of the ethereal quire,\nAnd saints exempt from low desire,\nWith \u00c1jas, sons of Brahm\u00e1\u2019s line,\nMar\u00edchipas of seed divine,\nVaikh\u00e1nasas and M\u00e1shas strayed,\nAnd B\u00e1lakhilyas(489) in the shade.\nThe lovely nymphs of heaven were there,\nCelestial wreaths confined their hair,\nAnd to each form new grace was lent\nBy wealth of heavenly ornament.\nWell skilled was each in play and dance\nAnd gentle arts of dalliance.\nThe glorious wife of many a God\nThose beautiful recesses trod,\nThere Gods and D\u00e1navs, all who eat\nThe food of heaven, rejoiced to meet.\nThe swan and S\u00e1ras thronged each bay\nWith curlews, ducks, and divers gay,\nWhere the sea spray rose soft and white\nO\u2019er rocks of glossy lazulite.\nAs his swift way the fiend pursued\nPale chariots of the Gods he viewed,\nBearing each lord whose rites austere\nHad raised him to the heavenly sphere.\nThereon celestial garlands hung,\nThere music played and songs were sung.\nThen bright Gandharvas met his view,\nAnd heavenly nymphs, as on he flew.\nHe saw the sandal woods below,\nAnd precious trees of odorous flow,\nThat to the air around them lent\nTheir riches of delightful scent;\nNor failed his roving eye to mark\nTall aloe trees in grove and park.\nHe looked on wood with cassias filled,\nAnd plants which balmy sweets distilled,\nWhere her fair flowers the betel showed\nAnd the bright pods of pepper glowed.\nThe pearls in many a silvery heap\nLay on the margin of the deep.\nAnd grey rocks rose amid the red\nOf coral washed from ocean\u2019s bed.\nHigh soared the mountain peaks that bore\nTreasures of gold and silver ore,\nAnd leaping down the rocky walls\nCame wild and glorious waterfalls.\nFair towns which grain and treasure held,\nAnd dames who every gem excelled,\nHe saw outspread beneath him far,\nWith steed, and elephant, and car.\nThat ocean shore he viewed that showed\nFair as the blessed Gods\u2019 abode\nWhere cool delightful breezes played\nO\u2019er levels in the freshest shade.\nHe saw a fig-tree like a cloud\nWith mighty branches earthward bowed.\nIt stretched a hundred leagues and made\nFor hermit bands a welcome shade.\nThither the feathered king of yore\nAn elephant and tortoise bore,\nAnd lighted on a bough to eat\nThe captives of his taloned feet.\nThe bough unable to sustain\nThe crushing weight and sudden strain,\nLoaded with sprays and leaves of spring\nGave way beneath the feathered king.\nUnder the shadow of the tree\nDwelt many a saint and devotee,\n\u00c1jas, the sons of Brahm\u00e1\u2019s line,\nM\u00e1shas, Mar\u00edchipas divine.\nVaikh\u00e1nasas, and all the race\nOf B\u00e1lakhilyas, loved the place.\nBut pitying their sad estate\nThe feathered monarch raised the weight\nOf the huge bough, and bore away\nThe loosened load and captured prey.\nA hundred leagues away he sped,\nThen on his monstrous booty fed,\nAnd with the bough he smote the lands\nWhere dwell the wild Nish\u00e1da bands.\nHigh joy was his because his deed\nFrom jeopardy the hermits freed.\nThat pride for great deliverance wrought\nA double share of valour brought.\nHis soul conceived the high emprise\nTo snatch the Amrit from the skies.\nHe rent the nets of iron first,\nThen through the jewel chamber burst,\nAnd bore the drink of heaven away\nThat watched in Indra\u2019s palace lay.\n\n  Such was the hermit-sheltering tree\nWhich R\u00e1va\u1e47 turned his eye to see.\nStill marked where Garu\u1e0d sought to rest,\nThe fig-tree bore the name of Blest.\n\n  When R\u00e1va\u1e47 stayed his chariot o\u2019er\nThe ocean\u2019s heart-enchanting shore,\nHe saw a hermitage that stood\nSequestered in the holy wood.\nHe saw the fiend M\u00e1r\u00edcha there\nWith deerskin garb, and matted hair\nCoiled up in hermit guise, who spent\nHis days by rule most abstinent.\nAs guest and host are wont to meet,\nThey met within that lone retreat.\nBefore the king M\u00e1r\u00edcha placed\nFood never known to human taste.\nHe entertained his guest with meat\nAnd gave him water for his feet,\nAnd then addressed the giant king\nWith timely words of questioning:\n\n  \u201cLord, is it well with thee, and well\nWith those in Lank\u00e1\u2019s town who dwell?\nWhat sudden thought, what urgent need\nHas brought thee with impetuous speed?\u201d\n\n  The fiend M\u00e1r\u00edcha thus addressed\nR\u00e1va\u1e47 the king, his mighty guest,\nAnd he, well skilled in arts that guide\nThe eloquent, in turn replied:\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n\n\n\u201cHear me, M\u00e1r\u00edcha, while I speak,\nAnd tell thee why thy home I seek.\nSick and distressed am I, and see\nMy surest hope and help in thee.\nOf Janasth\u00e1n I need not tell,\nWhere \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1, Khara, dwell,\nAnd D\u00fasha\u1e47 with the arm of might,\nAnd Tri\u015bir\u00e1s, the fierce in fight,\nWho feeds on human flesh and gore,\nAnd many noble giants more,\nWho roam in dark of midnight through\nThe forest, brave and strong and true.\nBy my command they live at ease\nAnd slaughter saints and devotees.\nThose twice seven thousand giants, all\nObedient to their captain\u2019s call,\nJoying in war and ruthless deeds\nFollow where mighty Khara leads.\nThose fearless warrior bands who roam\nThrough Janasth\u00e1n their forest home,\nIn all their terrible array\nMet R\u00e1ma in the battle fray.\nGirt with all weapons forth they sped\nWith Khara at the army\u2019s head.\nThe front of battle R\u00e1ma held:\nWith furious wrath his bosom swelled.\nWithout a word his hate to show\nHe launched the arrows from his bow.\nOn the fierce hosts the missiles came,\nEach burning with destructive flame,\nThe twice seven thousand fell o\u2019erthrown\nBy him, a man, on foot, alone.\nKhara the army\u2019s chief and pride,\nAnd D\u00fasha\u1e47, fearless warrior, died,\nAnd Tri\u015bir\u00e1s the fierce was slain,\nAnd Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood was free again.\n\n  He, banished by his angry sire,\nRoams with his wife in mean attire.\nThis wretch, his Warrior tribe\u2019s disgrace\nHas slain the best of giant race.\nHarsh, wicked, fierce and greedy-souled,\nA fool, with senses uncontrolled,\nNo thought of duty stirs his breast:\nHe joys to see the world distressed.\nHe sought the wood with fair pretence\nOf truthful life and innocence,\nBut his false hand my sister left\nMangled, of nose and ears bereft.\nThis R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife who bears the name\nOf S\u00edt\u00e1, in her face and frame\nFair as a daughter of the skies,\u2014\nHer will I seize and bring the prize\nTriumphant from the forest shade:\nFor this I seek thy willing aid.\nIf thou, O mighty one, wilt lend\nThy help and stand beside thy friend,\nI with my brothers may defy\nAll Gods embattled in the sky.\nCome, aid me now, for thine the power\nTo succour in the doubtful hour.\nThou art in war and time of fear,\nFor heart and hand, without a peer.\nFor thou art skilled in art and wile,\nA warrior brave and trained in guile.\nWith this one hope, this only aim,\nO Rover of the Night, I came.\nNow let me tell what aid I ask\nTo back me in my purposed task.\nIn semblance of a golden deer\nAdorned with silver spots appear.\nGo, seek his dwelling: in the way\nOf R\u00e1ma and his consort stray.\nDoubt not the lady, when she sees\nThe wondrous deer amid the trees,\nWill bid her lord and Lakshma\u1e47 take\nThe creature for its beauty\u2019s sake.\nThen when the chiefs have parted thence,\nAnd left her lone, without defence,\nAs R\u00e1hu storms the moonlight, I\nWill seize the lovely dame and fly.\nHer lord will waste away and weep\nFor her his valour could not keep.\nThen boldly will I strike the blow\nAnd wreak my vengeance on the foe.\u201d\n\n  When wise M\u00e1r\u00edcha heard the tale\nHis heart grew faint, his cheek was pale,\nHe stared with open orbs, and tried\nTo moisten lips which terror dried,\nAnd grief, like death, his bosom rent\nAs on the king his look he bent.\n  The monarch\u2019s will he strove to stay,\n    Distracted with alarm,\n  For well he knew the might that lay\n    In R\u00e1ma\u2019s matchless arm.\n  With suppliant hands M\u00e1r\u00edcha stood\n    And thus began to tell\n  His counsel for the tyrant\u2019s good,\n    And for his own as well:\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVII. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha gave attentive ear\nThe ruler of the fiends to hear:\nThen, trained in all the rules that teach\nThe eloquent, began his speech:\n\u201c\u2019Tis easy task, O King, to find\nSmooth speakers who delight the mind.\nBut they who urge and they who do\nDistasteful things and wise, are few.\nThou hast not learnt, by proof untaught,\nAnd borne away by eager thought,\nThat R\u00e1ma, formed for high emprise,\nWith Varu\u1e47 or with Indra vies.\nStill let thy people live in peace,\nNor let their name and lineage cease,\nFor R\u00e1ma with his vengeful hand\nCan sweep the giants from the land.\nO, let not Janak\u2019s daughter bring\nDestruction on the giant king.\nLet not the lady S\u00edt\u00e1 wake\nA tempest, on thy head to break.\nStill let the dame, by care untried,\nBe happy by her husband\u2019s side,\nLest swift avenging ruin fall\nOn glorious Lank\u00e1, thee, and all.\nMen such as thou with wills unchained,\nAdvised by sin and unrestrained,\nDestroy themselves, the king, the state,\nAnd leave the people desolate.\nR\u00e1ma, in bonds of duty held,\nWas never by his sire expelled.\nHe is no wretch of greedy mind,\nDishonour of his Warrior kind.\nFree from all touch of rancorous spite,\nAll creatures\u2019 good is his delight.\nHe saw his sire of truthful heart\nDeceived by Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s art,\nAnd said, a true and duteous son,\n\u201cWhat thou hast promised shall be done.\u201d\nTo gratify the lady\u2019s will,\nHis father\u2019s promise to fulfil,\nHe left his realm and all delight\nFor Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood, an anchorite.\nNo cruel wretch, no senseless fool\nIs R\u00e1ma, unrestrained by rule.\nThis groundless charge has ne\u2019er been heard,\nNor shouldst thou speak the slanderous word.\nR\u00e1ma in truth and goodness bold\nIs Virtue\u2019s self in human mould,\nThe sovereign of the world confessed\nAs Indra rules among the Blest.\nAnd dost thou plot from him to rend\nThe darling whom his arms defend?\nLess vain the hope to steal away\nThe glory of the Lord of Day.\nO R\u00e1va\u1e47, guard thee from the fire\nOf vengeful R\u00e1ma\u2019s kindled ire,\u2014\nEach spark a shaft with deadly aim,\nWhile bow and falchion feed the flame.\nCast not away in hopeless strife\nThy realm, thy bliss, thine own dear life.\nO R\u00e1va\u1e47 of his might beware,\nA God of Death who will not spare.\nThat bow he knows so well to draw\nIs the destroyer\u2019s flaming jaw,\nAnd with his shafts which flash and glow\nHe slays the armies of the foe.\nThou ne\u2019er canst win\u2014the thought forego\u2014\nFrom the safe guard of shaft and bow\nKing Janak\u2019s child, the dear delight\nOf R\u00e1ma unapproached in might.\nThe spouse of Raghu\u2019s son, confessed\nLion of men with lion chest,\u2014\nDearer than life, through good and ill\nDevoted to her husband\u2019s will,\nThe slender-waisted, still must be\nFrom thy polluting touches free.\nFar better grasp with venturous hand\nThe flame to wildest fury fanned.\nWhat, King of giants, canst thou gain\nFrom this attempt so wild and vain?\nIf in the fight his eye he bend\nUpon thee, Lord, thy days must end,\nSo life and bliss and royal sway,\nLost beyond hope, will pass away.\nSummon each lord of high estate,\nAnd chief, Vibhisha\u1e47(490) to debate.\nWith peers in lore of counsel tried\nConsider, reason, and decide\nScan strength and weakness, count the cost,\nWhat may be gained and what be lost.\nExamine and compare aright\nThy proper power and R\u00e1ma\u2019s might,\nThen if thy weal be still thy care,\nThou wilt be prudent and forbear.\nO giant King, the contest shun,\n  Thy force is all too weak\nThe lord of Kos\u00e1l\u2019s mighty son\n  In deadly fray to seek.\nKing of the hosts that rove at night,\n  O hear what I advise:\nMy prudent counsel do not slight;\n  Be patient and be wise.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVIII. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Speech.\n\n\n\u201cOnce in my strength and vigour\u2019s pride\nI roamed this earth from side to side,\nAnd towering like a mountain\u2019s crest,\nA thousand N\u00e1gas\u2019(491) might possessed.\nLike some vast sable cloud I showed:\nMy golden armlets flashed and glowed.\nA crown I wore, an axe I swayed,\nAnd all I met were sore afraid.\nI roved where Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood is spread;\nOn flesh of slaughtered saints I fed.\nThen Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, sage revered,\nHoly of heart, my fury feared.\nTo Da\u015baratha\u2019s court he sped\nAnd went before the king and said:(492)\n\n  \u201cWith me, my lord, thy R\u00e1ma send\nOn holy days his aid to lend.\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha fills my soul with dread\nAnd keeps me sore disquieted.\u201d\n\n  The monarch heard the saint\u2019s request\nAnd thus the glorious sage addressed:\n\n  \u201cMy boy as yet in arms untrained\nThe age of twelve has scarce attained.\nBut I myself a host will lead\nTo guard thee in the hour of need.\nMy host with fourfold troops complete,\nThe rover of the night shall meet,\nAnd I, O best of saints, will kill\nThy foeman and thy prayer fulfil.\u201d\nThe king vouchsafed his willing aid:\nThe saint again this answer made:\n\n  \u201cBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s might, and his alone,\nCan this great fiend be overthrown.\nI know in days of yore the Blest\nThy saving help in fight confessed.\nStill of thy famous deeds they tell\nIn heaven above, in earth, and hell,\nA mighty host obeys thy hest:\nHere let it still, I pray thee, rest.\nThy glorious son, though yet a boy,\nWill in the fight that fiend destroy.\nR\u00e1ma alone with me shall go:\nBe happy, victor of the foe.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: the monarch gave assent,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to the hermit lent.\nSo to his woodland home in joy\nWent Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra with the boy.\nWith ready bow the champion stood\nTo guard the rites in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood.\nWith glorious eyes, most bright to view,\nBeardless as yet and dark of hue;\nA single robe his only wear,\nHis temples veiled with waving hair,\nAround his neck a chain of gold,\nHe grasped the bow he loved to hold;\nAnd the young hero\u2019s presence made\nA glory in the forest shade.\nThus R\u00e1ma with his beauteous mien,\nLike the young rising moon was seen,\nI, like a cloud which tempest brings,\nMy arms adorned with golden rings,\nProud of the boon which lent me might,\nApproached where dwelt the anchorite.\nBut R\u00e1ma saw me venturing nigh,\nRaising my murderous axe on high;\nHe saw, and fearless of the foe,\nStrung with calm hand his trusty bow.\nBy pride of conscious strength beguiled,\nI scorned him as a feeble child,\nAnd rushed with an impetuous bound\nOn Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra\u2019s holy ground.\nA keen swift shaft he pointed well,\nThe foeman\u2019s rage to check and quell,\nAnd hurled a hundred leagues away\nDeep in the ocean waves I lay.\nHe would not kill, but, nobly brave,\nMy forfeit life he chose to save.\nSo there I lay with wandering sense\nDazed by that arrow\u2019s violence.\nLong in the sea I lay: at length\nSlowly returned my sense and strength,\nAnd rising from my watery bed\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s town again I sped.\nThus was I spared, but all my band\nFell slain by R\u00e1ma\u2019s conquering hand,\u2014\nA boy, untrained in warrior\u2019s skill,\nOf iron arm and dauntless will.\nIf thou with R\u00e1ma still, in spite\nOf warning and of prayer, wilt fight,\nI see terrific woes impend,\nAnd dire defeat thy days will end.\nThy giants all will feel the blow\nAnd share the fatal overthrow,\nWho love the taste of joy and play,\nThe banquet and the festal day.\nThine eyes will see destruction take\nThy Lank\u00e1, lost for S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s sake,\nAnd stately pile and palace fall\nWith terrace, dome, and jewelled wall.\nThe good will die: the crime of kings\nDestruction on the people brings:\nThe sinless die, as in the lake\nThe fish must perish with the snake.\nThe prostrate giants thou wilt see\nSlain for this folly wrought by thee,\nTheir bodies bright with precious scent\nAnd sheen of heavenly ornament;\nOr see the remnant of thy train\nSeek refuge far, when help is vain\nAnd with their wives, or widowed, fly\nTo every quarter of the sky;\nThy mournful eyes, where\u2019er they turn,\nWill see thy stately city burn,\nWhen royal homes with fire are red,\nAnd arrowy nets around are spread.\nA sin that tops all sins in shame\nIs outrage to another\u2019s dame,\nA thousand wives thy palace fill,\nAnd countless beauties wait thy will.\nO rest contented with thine own,\nNor let thy race be overthrown.\nIf thou, O King, hast still delight\nIn rank and wealth and power and might,\nIn noble wives, in troops of friends,\nIn all that royal state attends,\nI warn thee, cast not all away,\nNor challenge R\u00e1ma to the fray.\nIf deaf to every friendly prayer,\n  Thou still wilt seek the strife,\nAnd from the side of R\u00e1ma tear\n  His lovely Maithil wife,\nSoon will thy life and empire end\n  Destroyed by R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow,\nAnd thou, with kith and kin and friend,\n  To Y\u00e1ma\u2019s realm must go.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIX. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Speech.\n\n\n\u201cI told thee of that dreadful day\nWhen R\u00e1ma smote and spared to slay.\nNow hear me, R\u00e1va\u1e47, while I tell\nWhat in the after time befell.\nAt length, restored to strength and pride,\nI and two mighty fiends beside\nAssumed the forms of deer and strayed\nThrough Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood in lawn and glade,\nI reared terrific horns: beneath\nWere flaming tongue and pointed teeth.\nI roamed where\u2019er my fancy led,\nAnd on the flesh of hermits fed,\nIn sacred haunt, by hallowed tree,\nWhere\u2019er the ritual fires might be.\nA fearful shape, I wandered through\nThe wood, and many a hermit slew.\nWith ruthless rage the saints I killed\nWho in the grove their tasks fulfilled.\nWhen smitten to the earth they sank,\nTheir flesh I ate, their blood I drank,\nAnd with my cruel deeds dismayed\nAll dwellers in the forest shade,\nSpoiling their rites in bitter hate,\nWith human blood inebriate.\nOnce in the wood I chanced to see\nR\u00e1ma again, a devotee,\nA hermit, fed on scanty fare,\nWho made the good of all his care.\nHis noble wife was by his side,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 in the battle tried.\nIn senseless pride I scorned the might\nOf that illustrious anchorite,\nAnd heedless of a hermit foe,\nRecalled my earlier overthrow.\nI charged him in my rage and scorn\nTo slay him with my pointed horn,\nIn heedless haste, to fury wrought\nAs on my former wounds I thought.\nThen from the mighty bow he drew\nThree foe-destroying arrows flew,\nKeen-pointed, leaping from the string,\nSwift as the wind or feathered king.\nDire shafts, on flesh of foemen fed,\nLike rushing thunderbolts they sped,\nWith knots well smoothed and barbs well bent,\nShot e\u2019en as one, the arrows went.\nBut I who R\u00e1ma\u2019s might had felt,\nAnd knew the blows the hero dealt,\nEscaped by rapid flight. The two\nWho lingered on the spot, he slew.\nI fled from mortal danger, freed\nFrom the dire shaft by timely speed.\nNow to deep thought my days I give,\nAnd as a humble hermit live.\nIn every shrub, in every tree\nI view that noblest devotee.\nIn every knotted trunk I mark\nHis deerskin and his coat of bark,\nAnd see the bow-armed R\u00e1ma stand\nLike Y\u00e1ma with his noose in hand.\nI tell thee R\u00e1va\u1e47, in my fright\nA thousand R\u00e1mas mock my sight,\nThis wood with every bush and bough\nSeems all one fearful R\u00e1ma now.\nThroughout the grove there is no spot\nSo lonely where I see him not.\nHe haunts me in my dreams by night,\nAnd wakes me with the wild affright.\nThe letter that begins his name\nSends terror through my startled frame.\nThe rapid cars whereon we ride,\nThe rich rare jewels, once my pride,\nHave names(493) that strike upon mine ear\nWith hated sound that counsels fear.\nHis mighty strength too well I know,\nNor art thou match for such a foe.\nToo strong were Raghus\u2019s son in fight\nFor Namuchi or Bali\u2019s might.\nThen R\u00e1ma to the battle dare,\nOr else be patient and forbear;\nBut, wouldst thou see me live in peace,\nLet mention of the hero cease.\nThe good whose holy lives were spent\nIn deepest thought, most innocent,\nWith all their people many a time\nHave perished through another\u2019s crime.\nSo in the common ruin, I\nMust for another\u2019s folly die,\nDo all thy strength and courage can,\nBut ne\u2019er will I approve the plan.\nFor he, in might supremely great,\nThe giant world could extirpate,\nSince, when impetuous Khara sought\nThe grove of Janasth\u00e1n and fought\nFor \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1\u2019s sake, he died\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand in battle tried.\nHow has he wronged thee? Soothly swear,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s fault and sin declare.\n  I warn thee, and my words are wise,\n    I seek thy people\u2019s weal:\n  But if this rede thou wilt despise,\n    Nor hear my last appeal,\n  Thou with thy kin and all thy friends\n    In fight this day wilt die,\n  When his great bow the hero bends,\n    And shafts unerring fly.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XL. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47 scorned the rede he gave\nIn timely words to warn and save,\nE\u2019en as the wretch who hates to live\nRejects the herb the leeches give.\nBy fate to sin and ruin spurred,\nThat sage advice the giant heard,\nThen in reproaches hard and stern\nThus to M\u00e1r\u00edcha spoke in turn:\n\n  \u201cIs this thy counsel, weak and base,\nUnworthy of thy giant race?\nThy speech is fruitless, vain, thy toil\nLike casting seed on barren soil.\nNo words of thine shall drive me back\nFrom R\u00e1ma and the swift attack.\nA fool is he, inured to sin,\nAnd more, of human origin.\nThe craven, at a woman\u2019s call\nTo leave his sire, his mother, all\nThe friends he loved, the power and sway,\nAnd hasten to the woods away!\nBut now his anger will I rouse,\nStealing away his darling spouse.\nI in thy sight will ravish her\nFrom Khara\u2019s cruel murderer.\nUpon this plan my soul is bent,\nAnd naught shall move my firm intent,\nNot if the way through demons led\nAnd Gods with Indra at their head.\n\u2019Tis thine, when questioned, to explain\nThe hope and fear, the loss and gain,\nAnd, when thy king thy thoughts would know,\nThe triumph or the danger show.\nA prudent counsellor should wait,\nAnd speak when ordered in debate,\nWith hands uplifted, calm and meek,\nIf honour and reward he seek.\nOr, when some prudent course he sees\nWhich, spoken, may his king displease\nHe should by hints of dexterous art\nHis counsel to his lord impart.\nBut prudent words are said in vain\nWhen the blunt speech brings grief and pain.\nA high-souled king will scarcely thank\nThe man who shames his royal rank.\nFive are the shapes that kings assume,\nOf majesty, of grace, and gloom:\nLike Indra now, or Agni, now\nLike the dear Moon, with placid brow:\nLike mighty Varu\u1e47 now they show,\nNow fierce as He who rules below.\nO giant, monarchs lofty-souled\nAre kind and gentle, stern and bold,\nWith gracious love their gifts dispense\nAnd swiftly punish each offence.\nThus subjects should their rulers view\nWith all respect and honour due.\nBut folly leads thy heart to slight\nThy monarch and neglect his right.\nThou hast in lawless pride addressed\nWith bitter words thy royal guest.\nI asked thee not my strength to scan,\nOr loss and profit in the plan.\nI only spoke to tell the deed\nO mighty one, by me decreed,\nAnd bid thee in the peril lend\nThy succour to support thy friend.\nHear me again, and I will tell\nHow thou canst aid my venture well.\nIn semblance of a golden deer\nAdorned with silver drops, appear:\nAnd near the cottage in the way\nOf R\u00e1ma and his consort stray.\nDraw nigh, and wandering through the brake\nWith thy strange form her fancy take.\nThe Maithil dame with wondering eyes\nWill took upon thy fair disguise,\nAnd quickly bid her husband go\nAnd bring the deer that charms her so,\nWhen Raghu\u2019s son has left the place,\nStill pressing onward in the chase,\nCry out, \u201cO Lakshma\u1e47! Ah, mine own!\u201d\nWith voice resembling R\u00e1ma\u2019s tone.\nWhen Lakshma\u1e47 hears his brother\u2019s cry,\nImpelled by S\u00edt\u00e1 he will fly,\nRestless with eager love, to aid\nThe hunter in the distant shade.\nWhen both her guards have left her side,\nEven as Indra, thousand-eyed,\nClasps \u015aach\u00ed, will I bear away\nThe Maithil dame an easy prey.\nWhen thou, my friend, this aid hast lent,\nGo where thou wilt and live content.\nTrue servant, faithful to thy vow,\nWith half my realm I thee endow.\nGo forth, may luck thy way attend\nThat leads thee to the happy end.\nI in my car will quickly be\nIn Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood, and follow thee.\nSo will I cheat this R\u00e1ma\u2019s eyes\nAnd win without a blow the prize;\nAnd safe return to Lank\u00e1\u2019s town\nWith thee, my friend, this day shall crown.\nBut if thou wilt not aid my will,\nMy hand this day thy blood shall spill.\nYea, thou must share the destined task,\nFor force will take the help I ask.\nNo bliss that rebel\u2019s life attends\nWhose stubborn will his lord offends.\n  Thy life, if thou the task assay,\n    In jeopardy may stand;\n  Oppose me, and this very day\n    Thou diest by this hand.\n  Now ponder all that thou hast heard\n    Within thy prudent breast:\n  Reflect with care on every word,\n    And do what seems the best.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLI. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Reply.\n\n\nAgainst his judgment sorely pressed\nBy his imperious lord\u2019s behest,\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha threats of death defied\nAnd thus with bitter words replied:\n\u201cAh, who, my King, with sinful thought\nThis wild and wicked counsel taught,\nBy which destruction soon will fall\nOn thee, thy sons, thy realm and all?\nWho is the guilty wretch who sees\nWith envious eye thy blissful ease,\nAnd by this plan, so falsely shown,\nDeath\u2019s gate for thee has open thrown?\nWith souls impelled by mean desire\nThy foes against thy life conspire.\nThey urge thee to destruction\u2019s brink,\nAnd gladly would they see thee sink.\nWho with base thought to work thee woe\nThis fatal road has dared to show,\nAnd, triumph in his wicked eye,\nWould see thee enter in and die?\nTo all thy counsellors, untrue,\nThe punishment of death is due,\nWho see thee tempt the dangerous way,\nNor strain each nerve thy foot to stay.\nWise lords, whose king, by passion led,\nThe path of sin begins to tread,\nRestrain him while there yet is time:\nBut thine,\u2014they see nor heed the crime.\nThese by their master\u2019s will obtain\nMerit and fame and joy and gain.\n\u2019Tis only by their master\u2019s grace\nThat servants hold their lofty place.\nBut when the monarch stoops to sin\nThey lose each joy they strive to win,\nAnd all the people people high and low\nFall in the common overthrow.\nMerit and fame and honour spring,\nBest of the mighty, from the king.\nSo all should strive with heart and will\nTo keep the king from every ill.\nPride, violence, and sullen hate\nWill ne\u2019er maintain a monarch\u2019s state,\nAnd those who cruel deeds advise\nMust perish when their master dies,\nLike drivers with their cars o\u2019erthrown\nIn places rough with root and stone.\nThe good whose holy lives were spent\nOn duty\u2019s highest laws intent,\nWith wives and children many a time\nHave perished for another\u2019s crime.\nHapless are they whose sovereign lord,\nOpposed to all, by all abhorred,\nIs cruel-hearted, harsh, severe:\nThus might a jackal tend the deer.\nNow all the giant race await,\nDestroyed by thee, a speedy fate,\nRuled by a king so cruel-souled,\nFoolish in heart and uncontrolled.\nThink not I fear the sudden blow\nThat threatens now to lay me low:\nI mourn the ruin that I see\nImpending o\u2019er thy host and thee.\nMe first perchance will R\u00e1ma kill,\nBut soon his hand thy blood will spill.\nI die, and if by R\u00e1ma slain\nAnd not by thee, I count it gain.\nSoon as the hero\u2019s face I see\nHis angry eyes will murder me,\nAnd if on her thy hands thou lay\nThy friends and thou are dead this day.\nIf with my help thou still must dare\nThe lady from her lord to tear,\nFarewell to all our days are o\u2019er,\nLank\u00e1 and giants are no more.\n  In vain, in vain, an earnest friend,\n    I warn thee, King, and pray.\n  Thou wilt not to my prayers attend,\n    Or heed the words I say\n  So men, when life is fleeting fast\n    And death\u2019s sad hour is nigh,\n  Heedless and blinded to the last\n    Reject advice and die.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLII. M\u00e1r\u00edcha Transformed.\n\n\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha thus in wild unrest\nWith bitter words the king addressed.\nThen to his giant lord in dread,\n\u201cArise, and let us go,\u201d he said.\n\u201cAh, I have met that mighty lord\nArmed with his shafts and bow and sword,\nAnd if again that bow he bend\nOur lives that very hour will end.\nFor none that warrior can provoke\nAnd think to fly his deadly stroke.\nLike Y\u00e1ma with his staff is he,\nAnd his dread hand will slaughter thee.\nWhat can I more? My words can find\nNo passage to thy stubborn mind.\nI go, great King, thy task to share,\nAnd may success attend thee there.\u201d\n\n  With that reply and bold consent\nThe giant king was well content.\nHe strained M\u00e1r\u00edcha to his breast\nAnd thus with joyful words addressed:\n\u201cThere spoke a hero dauntless still,\nObedient to his master\u2019s will,\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s proper self once more:\nSome other took thy shape before.\nCome, mount my jewelled car that flies.\nWill-governed, through the yielding skies.\nThese asses, goblin-faced, shall bear\nUs quickly through the fields of air.\nAttract the lady with thy shape,\nThen through the wood, at will, escape.\nAnd I, when she has no defence,\nWill seize the dame and bear her thence.\u201d\n\n  Again M\u00e1r\u00edcha made reply,\nConsent and will to signify.\nWith rapid speed the giants two\nFrom the calm hermit dwelling flew,\nBorne in that wondrous chariot, meet\nFor some great God\u2019s celestial seat.\nThey from their airy path looked down\nOn many a wood and many a town,\nOn lake and river, brook and rill,\nCity and realm and towering hill.\nSoon he whom giant hosts obeyed,\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha by his side, surveyed\nThe dark expanse of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood\nWhere R\u00e1ma\u2019s hermit cottage stood.\nThey left the flying car, whereon\nThe wealth of gold and jewels shone,\nAnd thus the giant king addressed\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha as his hand he pressed:\n\n  \u201cM\u00e1r\u00edcha, look! before our eyes\nRound R\u00e1ma\u2019s home the plantains rise.\nHis hermitage is now in view:\nQuick to the work we came to do!\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1va\u1e47 spoke, M\u00e1r\u00edcha heard\nObedient to his master\u2019s word,\nThrew off his giant shape and near\nThe cottage strayed a beauteous deer.\nWith magic power, by rapid change,\nHis borrowed form was fair and strange.\nA sapphire tipped each horn with light;\nHis face was black relieved with white.\nThe turkis and the ruby shed\nA glory from his ears and head.\nHis arching neck was proudly raised,\nAnd lazulites beneath it blazed.\nWith roseate bloom his flanks were dyed,\nAnd lotus tints adorned his hide.\nHis shape was fair, compact, and slight;\nHis hoofs were carven lazulite.\nHis tail with every changing glow\nDisplayed the hues of Indra\u2019s bow.\nWith glossy skin so strangely flecked,\nWith tints of every gem bedecked.\nA light o\u2019er R\u00e1ma\u2019s home he sent,\nAnd through the wood, where\u2019er he went.\nThe giant clad in that strange dress\nThat took the soul with loveliness,\nTo charm the fair Videhan\u2019s eyes\nWith mingled wealth of mineral dyes,\nMoved onward, cropping in his way,\nThe grass and grain and tender spray.\nHis coat with drops of silver bright,\nA form to gaze on with delight,\nHe raised his fair neck as he went\nTo browse on bud and filament.\nNow in the Cassia grove he strayed,\nNow by the cot in plantains\u2019 shade.\nSlowly and slowly on he came\nTo catch the glances of the dame,\nAnd the tall deer of splendid hue\nShone full at length in S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s view.\nHe roamed where\u2019er his fancy chose\nWhere R\u00e1ma\u2019s leafy cottage rose.\nNow near, now far, in careless ease,\nHe came and went among the trees.\nNow with light feet he turned to fly,\nNow, reassured, again drew nigh:\nNow gambolled close with leap and bound,\nNow lay upon the grassy ground:\nNow sought the door, devoid of fear,\nAnd mingled with the troop of deer;\nLed them a little way, and thence\nAgain returned with confidence.\nNow flying far, now turning back\nEmboldened on his former track,\nSeeking to win the lady\u2019s glance\nHe wandered through the green expanse.\nThen thronging round, the woodland deer\nGazed on his form with wondering fear;\nA while they followed where he led,\nThen snuffed the tainted gale and fled.\nThe giant, though he longed to slay\nThe startled quarry, spared the prey,\nAnd mindful of the shape he wore\nTo veil his nature, still forbore.\nThen S\u00edt\u00e1 of the glorious eye,\nReturning from her task drew nigh;\nFor she had sought the wood to bring\nEach loveliest flower of early spring.\nNow would the bright-eyed lady choose\nSome gorgeous bud with blending hues,\nNow plucked the mango\u2019s spray, and now\nThe bloom from an A\u015boka bough.\nShe with her beauteous form, unmeet\nFor woodland life and lone retreat,\nThat wondrous dappled deer beheld\nGemmed with rich pearls, unparalleled,\nHis silver hair the lady saw,\nHis radiant teeth and lips and jaw,\nAnd gazed with rapture as her eyes\nExpanded in their glad surprise.\nAnd when the false deer\u2019s glances fell\nOn her whom R\u00e1ma loved so well,\nHe wandered here and there, and cast\nA luminous beauty as he passed;\nAnd Janak\u2019s child with strange delight\nKept gazing on the unwonted sight.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIII. The Wondrous Deer.\n\n\nShe stooped, her hands with flowers to fill,\nBut gazed upon the marvel still:\nGazed on its back and sparkling side\nWhere silver hues with golden vied.\nJoyous was she of faultless mould,\nWith glossy skin like polished gold.\nAnd loudly to her husband cried\nAnd bow-armed Lakshma\u1e47 by his side:\nAgain, again she called in glee:\n\u201cO come this glorious creature see;\nQuick, quick, my lord, this deer to view.\nAnd bring thy brother Lakshma\u1e47 too.\u201d\nAs through the wood her clear tones rang,\nSwift to her side the brothers sprang.\nWith eager eyes the grove they scanned,\nAnd saw the deer before them stand.\nBut doubt was strong in Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s breast,\nWho thus his thought and fear expressed:\n\n  \u201cStay, for the wondrous deer we see\nThe fiend M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s self may be.\nEre now have kings who sought this place\nTo take their pastime in the chase,\nMet from his wicked art defeat,\nAnd fallen slain by like deceit.\nHe wears, well trained in magic guile,\nThe figure of a deer a while,\nBright as the very sun, or place\nWhere dwell the gay Gandharva race.\nNo deer, O R\u00e1ma, e\u2019er was seen\nThus decked with gold and jewels\u2019 sheen.\n\u2019Tis magic, for the world has ne\u2019er,\nLord of the world, shown aught so fair.\u201d\n\n  But S\u00edt\u00e1 of the lovely smile,\nA captive to the giant\u2019s wile,\nTurned Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s prudent speech aside\nAnd thus with eager words replied:\n\u201cMy honoured lord, this deer I see\nWith beauty rare enraptures me.\nGo, chief of mighty arm, and bring\nFor my delight this precious thing.\nFair creatures of the woodland roam\nUntroubled near our hermit home.\nThe forest cow and stag are there,\nThe fawn, the monkey, and the bear,\nWhere spotted deer delight to play,\nAnd strong and beauteous Kinnars(494) stray.\nBut never, as they wandered by,\nHas such a beauty charmed mine eye\nAs this with limbs so fair and slight,\nSo gentle, beautiful and bright.\nO see, how fair it is to view\nWith jewels of each varied hue:\nBright as the rising moon it glows,\nLighting the wood where\u2019er it goes.\nAh me, what form and grace are there!\nIts limbs how fine, its hues how fair!\nTranscending all that words express,\nIt takes my soul with loveliness.\nO, if thou would, to please me, strive\nTo take the beauteous thing alive,\nHow thou wouldst gaze with wondering eyes\nDelighted on the lovely prize!\nAnd when our woodland life is o\u2019er,\nAnd we enjoy our realm once more,\nThe wondrous animal will grace\nThe chambers of my dwelling-place,\nAnd a dear treasure will it be\nTo Bharat and the queens and me,\nAnd all with rapture and amaze\nUpon its heavenly form will gaze.\nBut if the beauteous deer, pursued,\nThine arts to take it still elude,\nStrike it, O chieftain, and the skin\nWill be a treasure, laid within.\nO, how I long my time to pass\nSitting upon the tender grass,\nWith that soft fell beneath me spread\nBright with its hair of golden thread!\nThis strong desire, this eager will,\nBefits a gentle lady ill:\nBut when I first beheld, its look\nMy breast with fascination took.\nSee, golden hair its flank adorns,\nAnd sapphires tip its branching horns.\nResplendent as the lunar way,\nOr the first blush of opening day,\nWith graceful form and radiant hue\nIt charmed thy heart, O chieftain, too.\u201d\n\n  He heard her speech with willing ear,\nHe looked again upon the deer.\nIts lovely shape his breast beguiled\nMoved by the prayer of Janak\u2019s child,\nAnd yielding for her pleasure\u2019s sake,\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 R\u00e1ma turned and spake:\n\n  \u201cMark, Lakshma\u1e47, mark how S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s breast\nWith eager longing is possessed.\nTo-day this deer of wondrous breed\nMust for his passing beauty bleed,\nBrighter than e\u2019er in Nandan strayed,\nOr Chaitraratha\u2019s heavenly shade.\nHow should the groves of earth possess\nSuch all-surpassing loveliness!\nThe hair lies smooth and bright and fine,\nOr waves upon each curving line,\nAnd drops of living gold bedeck\nThe beauty of his side and neck.\nO look, his crimson tongue between\nHis teeth like flaming fire is seen,\nFlashing, whene\u2019er his lips he parts,\nAs from a cloud the lightning darts.\nO see his sunlike forehead shine\nWith emerald tints and almandine,\nWhile pearly light and roseate glow\nOf shells adorn his neck below.\nNo eye on such a deer can rest\nBut soft enchantment takes the breast:\nNo man so fair a thing behold\nAblaze with light of radiant gold,\nCelestial, bright with jewels\u2019 sheen,\nNor marvel when his eyes have seen.\nA king equipped with bow and shaft\nDelights in gentle forest craft,\nAnd as in boundless woods he strays\nThe quarry for the venison slays.\nThere as he wanders with his train\nA store of wealth he oft may gain.\nHe claims by right the precious ore,\nHe claims the jewels\u2019 sparkling store.\nSuch gains are dearer in his eyes\nThan wealth that in his chamber lies,\nThe dearest things his spirit knows,\nDear as the bliss which \u015aukra chose.\nBut oft the rich expected gain\nWhich heedless men pursue in vain,\nThe sage, who prudent counsels know,\nExplain and in a moment show.\nThis best of deer, this gem of all,\nTo yield his precious spoils must fall,\nAnd tender S\u00edt\u00e1 by my side\nShall sit upon the golden hide.\nNe\u2019er could I find so rich a coat\nOn spotted deer or sheep or goat.\nNo buck or antelope has such,\nSo bright to view, so soft to touch.\nThis radiant deer and one on high\nThat moves in glory through the sky,\nAlike in heavenly beauty are,\nOne on the earth and one a star.\nBut, brother, if thy fears be true,\nAnd this bright creature that we view\nBe fierce M\u00e1r\u00edcha in disguise,\nThen by this hand he surely dies.\nFor that dire fiend who spurns control\nWith bloody hand and cruel soul,\nHas roamed this forest and dismayed\nThe holiest saints who haunt the shade.\nGreat archers, sprung of royal race,\nPursuing in the wood the chase,\nHave fallen by his wicked art,\nAnd now my shaft shall strike his heart.\nVat\u00e1pi, by his magic power\nMade heedless saints his flesh devour,\nThen, from within their frames he rent\nForth bursting from imprisonment.\nBut once his art in senseless pride\nUpon the mightiest saint he tried,\nAgastya\u2019s self, and caused him taste\nThe baited meal before him placed.\nV\u00e1t\u00e1pi, when the rite was o\u2019er,\nWould take the giant form he wore,\nBut Saint Agastya knew his wile\nAnd checked the giant with smile.\n\u201cV\u00e1t\u00e1pi, thou with cruel spite\nHast conquered many an anchorite\nThe noblest of the Br\u00e1hman caste,\u2014\nAnd now thy ruin comes at last.\u201d\nNow if my power he thus defies,\nThis giant, like V\u00e1t\u00e1pi dies,\nDaring to scorn a man like me,\nA self subduing devotee.\nYea, as Agastya slew the foe,\nMy hand shall lay M\u00e1r\u00edcha low\nClad in thine arms thy bow in hand,\nTo guard the Maithil lady stand,\nWith watchful eye and thoughtful breast\nKeeping each word of my behest\nI go, and hunting through the brake\nThis wondrous deer will bring or take.\nYea surely I will bring the spoil\nReturning from my hunter\u2019s toil\nSee, Lakshma\u1e47 how my consort\u2019s eyes\nAre longing for the lovely prize.\nThis day it falls, that I may win\nThe treasure of so fair a skin.\nDo thou and S\u00edt\u00e1 watch with care\nLest danger seize you unaware.\nSwift from my bow one shaft will fly;\nThe stricken deer will fall and die\nThen quickly will I strip the game\nAnd bring the trophy to my dame.\n  Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus, guardian good and wise,\n    Our old and faithful friend,\n  The best and strongest bird that flies,\n    His willing aid will lend\n  The Maithil lady well protect,\n    For every chance provide,\n  And in thy tender care suspect\n    A foe on every side.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIV. M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s Death.\n\n\nThus having warned his brother bold\nHe grasped his sword with haft of gold,\nAnd bow with triple flexure bent,\nHis own delight and ornament;\nThen bound two quivers to his side,\nAnd hurried forth with eager stride.\nSoon as the antlered monarch saw\nThe lord of monarchs near him draw,\nA while with trembling heart he fled,\nThen turned and showed his stately head.\nWith sword and bow the chief pursued\nWhere\u2019er the fleeing deer he viewed\nSending from dell and lone recess\nThe splendour of his loveliness.\nNow full in view the creature stood\nNow vanished in the depth of wood;\nNow running with a languid flight,\nNow like a meteor lost to sight.\nWith trembling limbs away he sped;\nThen like the moon with clouds o\u2019erspread\nGleamed for a moment bright between\nThe trees, and was again unseen.\nThus in the magic deer\u2019s disguise\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha lured him to the prize,\nAnd seen a while, then lost to view,\nFar from his cot the hero drew.\nStill by the flying game deceived\nThe hunter\u2019s heart was wroth and grieved,\nAnd wearied with the fruitless chase\nHe stayed him in a shady place.\nAgain the rover of the night\nEnraged the chieftain, full in sight,\nSlow moving in the coppice near,\nSurrounded by the woodland deer.\nAgain the hunter sought the game\nThat seemed a while to court his aim:\nBut seized again with sudden dread,\nBeyond his sight the creature fled.\nAgain the hero left the shade,\nAgain the deer before him strayed.\nWith surer hope and stronger will\nThe hunter longed his prey to kill.\nThen as his soul impatient grew,\nAn arrow from his side he drew,\nResplendent at the sunbeam\u2019s glow,\nThe crusher of the smitten foe.\nWith skillful heed the mighty lord\nFixed well shaft and strained the cord.\nUpon the deer his eyes he bent,\nAnd like a fiery serpent went\nThe arrow Brahma\u2019s self had framed,\nAlive with sparks that hissed and flamed,\nLike Indra\u2019s flashing levin, true\nTo the false deer the missile flew\nCleaving his flesh that wonderous dart\nStood quivering in M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s heart.\nScarce from the ground one foot he sprang,\nThen stricken fell with deadly pang.\nHalf lifeless, as he pressed the ground,\nHe gave a roar of awful sound\nAnd ere the wounded giant died\nHe threw his borrowed form aside\nRemembering still his lord\u2019s behest\nHe pondered in his heart how best\nS\u00edt\u00e1 might send her guard away,\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 seize the helpless prey.\nThe monster knew the time was nigh,\nAnd called aloud with eager cry,\n\u201cHo, S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47\u201d and the tone\nHe borrowed was like R\u00e1ma\u2019s own.\n\n  So by that matchless arrow cleft,\nThe deer\u2019s bright form M\u00e1r\u00edcha left,\nResumed his giant shape and size\nAnd closed in death his languid eyes.\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw his awful foe\nGasp, smeared with blood, in deadly throe,\nHis anxious thoughts to S\u00edt\u00e1 sped,\nAnd the wise words that Lakshma\u1e47 said,\nThat this was false M\u00e1r\u00edcha\u2019s art,\nReturned again upon his heart.\nHe knew the foe he triumphed o\u2019er\nThe name of great M\u00e1r\u00edcha bore.\n\u201cThe fiend,\u201d he pondered, \u2019ere he died,\n\u201cHo, Lakshma\u1e47! ho, my S\u00edt\u00e1!\u201d cried\nAh, if that cry has reached her ear,\nHow dire must be my darling\u2019s fear!\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 of the mighty arm,\nWhat thinks he in his wild alarm?\nAs thus he thought in sad surmise,\nEach startled hair began to rise,\nAnd when he saw the giant slain\nAnd thought upon that cry again,\nHis spirit sank and terror pressed\nFull sorely on the hero\u2019s breast.\nAnother deer he chased and struck,\nHe bore away the the fallen buck,\nTo Janasth\u00e1n then turned his face\nAnd hastened to his dwelling place.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLV. Lakshman\u2019s Departure.\n\n\nBut S\u00edt\u00e1 hearing as she thought,\nHer husband\u2019s cry with anguish fraught,\nCalled to her guardian, \u201cLakshma\u1e47, run\nAnd in the wood seek Raghu\u2019s son.\nScarce can my heart retain its throne,\nScarce can my life be called mine own,\nAs all my powers and senses fail\nAt that long, loud and bitter wail.\nHaste to the wood with all thy speed\nAnd save thy brother in his need.\nGo, save him in the distant glade\nWhere loud he calls, for timely aid.\nHe falls beneath some giant foe\u2014\nA bull whom lions overthrow.\u201d\n\n  Deaf to her prayer, no step he stirred\nObedient to his mother\u2019s word,\nThen Janak\u2019s child, with ire inflamed,\nIn words of bitter scorn exclaimed exclaimed\n\n  \u201cSumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, a friend in show,\nThou art in truth thy brother\u2019s foe,\nWho canst at such any hour deny\nThy succour and neglect his cry.\nYes, Lakshma\u1e47, smit with love of me\nThy brother\u2019s death thou fain wouldst see.\nThis guilty love thy heart has swayed\nAnd makes thy feet so loth to aid.\nThou hast no love for R\u00e1ma, no:\nThy joy is vice, thy thoughts are low\nHence thus unmoved thou yet canst stay\nWhile my dear lord is far away.\nIf aught of ill my lord betide\nWho led thee here, thy chief and guide,\nAh, what will be my hapless fate\nLeft in the wild wood desolate!\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the lady sad with fear,\nWith many a sigh and many a tear,\nStill trembling like a captured doe:\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 spoke to calm her woe:\n\n  \u201cVidehan Queen, be sure of this,\u2014\nAnd at the thought thy fear dismiss,\u2014\nThy husband\u2019s mightier power defies\nAll Gods and angels of the skies,\nGandharvas, and the sons of light,\nSerpents, and rovers of the night.\nI tell thee, of the sons of earth,\nOf Gods who boast celestial birth,\nOf beasts and birds and giant hosts,\nOf demigods, Gandharvas, ghosts,\nOf awful fiends, O thou most fair,\nThere lives not one whose heart would dare\nTo meet thy R\u00e1ma in the fight,\nLike Indra\u2019s self unmatched in might.\nSuch idle words thou must not say\nThy R\u00e1ma lives whom none may slay.\nI will not, cannot leave thee here\nIn the wild wood till he be near.\nThe mightiest strength can ne\u2019er withstand\nHis eager force, his vigorous hand.\nNo, not the triple world allied\nWith all the immortal Gods beside.\nDismiss thy fear, again take heart,\nLet all thy doubt and woe depart.\nThy lord, be sure, will soon be here\nAnd bring thee back that best of deer.\nNot his, not his that mournful cry,\nNor haply came it from the sky.\nSome giant\u2019s art was busy there\nAnd framed a castle based on air.\nA precious pledge art thou, consigned\nTo me by him of noblest mind,\nNor can I fairest dame, forsake\nThe pledge which R\u00e1ma bade me take.\nUpon our heads, O Queen, we drew\nThe giants\u2019 hate when R\u00e1ma slew\nTheir chieftain Khara, and the shade\nOf Janasth\u00e1n in ruin laid.\nThrough all this mighty wood they rove\nWith varied cries from grove to grove\nOn rapine bent they wander here:\nBut O, dismiss thy causeless fear.\u201d\n\n  Bright flashed her eye as Lakshma\u1e47 spoke\nAnd forth her words of fury broke\nUpon her truthful guardian, flung\nWith bitter taunts that pierced and stung:\n\u201cShame on such false compassion, base\nDefiler of thy glorious race!\n\u2019Twere joyous sight I ween to thee\nMy lord in direst strait to see.\nThou knowest R\u00e1ma sore bested,\nOr word like this thou ne\u2019er hadst said.\nNo marvel if we find such sin\nIn rivals false to kith and kin.\nWretches like thee of evil kind,\nConcealing crime with crafty mind.\nThou, wretch, thine aid wilt still deny,\nAnd leave my lord alone to die.\nHas love of me unnerved thy hand,\nOr Bharat\u2019s art this ruin planned?\nBut be the treachery his or thine,\nIn vain, in vain the base design.\nFor how shall I, the chosen bride\nOf dark-hued R\u00e1ma, lotus-eyed,\nThe queen who once called R\u00e1ma mine,\nTo love of other men decline?\nBelieve me, Lakshma\u1e47, R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife\nBefore thine eyes will quit this life,\nAnd not a moment will she stay\nIf her dear lord have passed away.\u201d\n\n  The lady\u2019s bitter speech, that stirred\nEach hair upon his frame, he heard.\nWith lifted hands together laid,\nHis calm reply he gently made:\n\n  \u201cNo words have I to answer now:\nMy deity, O Queen, art thou.\nBut \u2019tis no marvel, dame, to find\nSuch lack of sense in womankind.\nThroughout this world, O Maithil dame,\nWeak women\u2019s hearts are still the same.\nInconstant, urged by envious spite,\nThey sever friends and hate the right.\nI cannot brook, Videhan Queen,\nThy words intolerably keen.\nMine ears thy fierce reproaches pain\nAs boiling water seethes the brain.\nAnd now to bear me witness all\nThe dwellers in the wood I call,\nThat, when with words of truth I plead,\nThis harsh reply is all my meed.\nAh, woe is thee! Ah, grief, that still\nEager to do my brother\u2019s will,\nMourning thy woman\u2019s nature, I\nMust see thee doubt my truth and die.\nI fly to R\u00e1ma\u2019s side, and Oh,\nMay bliss attend thee while I go!\nMay all attendant wood-gods screen\nThy head from harm, O large-eyed Queen!\nAnd though dire omens meet my sight\nAnd fill my soul with wild affright,\nMay I return in peace and see\nThe son of Raghu safe with thee!\u201d\n\n  The child of Janak heard him speak,\nAnd the hot tear-drops down her cheek,\nIncreasing to a torrent, ran,\nAs thus once more the dame began:\n\u201cO Lakshma\u1e47, if I widowed be\nGod\u00e1var\u00ed\u2019s flood shall cover me,\nOr I will die by cord, or leap,\nLife weary, from yon rocky steep;\nOr deadly poison will I drink,\nOr \u2019neath the kindled flames will sink,\nBut never, reft of R\u00e1ma, can\nConsent to touch a meaner man.\u201d\n\n  The Maithil dame with many sighs,\nAnd torrents pouring from her eyes,\nThe faithful Lakshma\u1e47 thus addressed,\nAnd smote her hands upon her breast.\n  >Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, o\u2019erwhelmed by fears,\n    Looked on the large-eyed queen:\n  He saw that flood of burning tears,\n    He saw that piteous mien.\n  He yearned sweet comfort to afford,\n    He strove to soothe her pain;\n  But to the brother of her lord\n    She spoke no word again.\n  His reverent hands once more he raised,\n    His head he slightly bent,\n  Upon her face he sadly gazed,\n    And then toward R\u00e1ma went.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVI. The Guest.\n\n\nThe angry Lakshma\u1e47 scarce could brook\nHer bitter words, her furious look.\nWith dark forebodings in his breast\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s side he quickly pressed.\n\n  Then ten necked R\u00e1va\u1e47 saw the time\nPropitious for his purposed crime.\nA mendicant in guise he came\nAnd stood before the Maithil dame.\nHis garb was red, with tufted hair\nAnd sandalled feet a shade he bare,\nAnd from the fiend\u2019s left shoulder slung\nA staff and water-vessel hung.\nNear to the lovely dame he drew,\nWhile both the chiefs were far from view,\nAs darkness takes the evening air\nWhen neither sun nor moon is there.\nHe bent his eye upon the dame,\nA princess fair, of spotless fame:\nSo might some baleful planet be\nNear Moon-forsaken Rohi\u1e47\u00ed.(495)\nAs the fierce tyrant nearer drew,\nThe trees in Janasth\u00e1n that grew\nWaved not a leaf for fear and woe,\nAnd the hushed wind forbore to blow.\nGod\u00e1var\u00ed\u2019s waters as they fled,\nSaw his fierce eye-balls flashing red,\nAnd from each swiftly-gliding wave\nA melancholy murmur gave.\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47, when his eager eye\nBeheld the longed-for moment nigh,\nIn mendicant\u2019s apparel dressed\nNear to the Maithil lady pressed.\nIn holy guise, a fiend abhorred,\nHe found her mourning for her lord.\nThus threatening draws \u015aani\u015bchar(496) nigh\nTo Chitr\u00e1(497) in the evening sky;\nThus the deep well by grass concealed\nYawns treacherous in the verdant field.\nHe stood and looked upon the dame\nOf R\u00e1ma, queen of spotless fame\nWith her bright teeth and each fair limb\nLike the full moon she seemed to him,\nSitting within her leafy cot,\nWeeping for woe that left her not.\nThus, while with joy his pulses beat,\nHe saw her in her lone retreat,\nEyed like the lotus, fair to view\nIn silken robes of amber hue.\nPierced to the core by K\u00e1ma\u2019s dart\nHe murmured texts with lying art,\nAnd questioned with a soft address\nThe lady in her loneliness.\nThe fiend essayed with gentle speech\nThe heart of that fair dame to reach,\nPride of the worlds, like Beauty\u2019s Queen\nWithout her darling lotus seen:\n\n  \u201cO thou whose silken robes enfold\nA form more fair than finest gold,\nWith lotus garland on thy head,\nLike a sweet spring with bloom o\u2019erspread,\nWho art thou, fair one, what thy name,\nBeauty, or Honour, Fortune, Fame,\nSpirit, or nymph, or Queen of love\nDescended from thy home above?\nBright as the dazzling jasmine shine\nThy small square teeth in level line.\nLike two black stars aglow with light\nThine eyes are large and pure and bright.\nThy charms of smile and teeth and hair\nAnd winning eyes, O thou most fair,\nSteal all my spirit, as the flow\nOf rivers mines the bank below.\nHow bright, how fine each flowing tress!\nHow firm those orbs beneath thy dress!\nThat dainty waist with ease were spanned,\nSweet lady, by a lover\u2019s hand.\nMine eyes, O beauty, ne\u2019er have seen\nGoddess or nymph so fair of mien,\nOr bright Gandharva\u2019s heavenly dame,\nOr woman of so perfect frame.\nIn youth\u2019s soft prime thy years are few,\nAnd earth has naught so fair to view.\nI marvel one like thee in face\nShould make the woods her dwelling-place.\nLeave, lady, leave this lone retreat\nIn forest wilds for thee unmeet,\nWhere giants fierce and strong assume\nAll shapes and wander in the gloom.\nThese dainty feet were formed to tread\nSome palace floor with carpets spread,\nOr wander in trim gardens where\nEach opening bud perfumes the air.\nThe richest robe thy form should deck,\nThe rarest gems adorn thy neck,\nThe sweetest wreath should bind thy hair,\nThe noblest lord thy bed should share.\nArt thou akin, O fair of form,\nTo Rudras,(498) or the Gods of storm,(499)\nOr to the glorious Vasus(500)? How\nCan less than these be bright as thou?\nBut never nymph or heavenly maid\nOr Goddess haunts this gloomy shade.\nHere giants roam, a savage race;\nWhat led thee to so dire a place?\nHere monkeys leap from tree to tree,\nAnd bears and tigers wander free;\nHere ravening lions prowl, and fell\nHyenas in the thickets yell,\nAnd elephants infuriate roam,\nMighty and fierce, their woodland home.\nDost thou not dread, so soft and fair,\nTiger and lion, wolf and bear?\nHast thou, O beauteous dame, no fear\nIn the wild wood so lone and drear?\nWhose and who art thou? whence and why\nSweet lady, with no guardian nigh,\nDost thou this awful forest tread\nBy giant bands inhabited?\u201d\n\n  The praise the high-souled R\u00e1va\u1e47 spoke\nNo doubt within her bosom woke.\nHis saintly look and Br\u00e1hman guise\nDeceived the lady\u2019s trusting eyes.\nWith due attention on the guest\nHer hospitable rites she pressed.\nShe bade the stranger to a seat,\nAnd gave him water for his feet.\nThe bowl and water-pot he bare,\nAnd garb which wandering Br\u00e1hmans wear\n  Forbade a doubt to rise.\nWon by his holy look she deemed\nThe stranger even as he seemed\n  To her deluded eyes.\nIntent on hospitable care,\nShe brought her best of woodland fare,\n  And showed her guest a seat.\nShe bade the saintly stranger lave\nHis feet in water which she gave,\n  And sit and rest and eat.\nHe kept his eager glances bent\nOn her so kindly eloquent,\nWife of the noblest king;\nAnd longed in heart to steal her thence,\nPreparing by the dire offence,\nDeath on his head to bring.\nThe lady watched with anxious face\nFor R\u00e1ma coming from the chase\n  With Lakshma\u1e47 by his side:\nBut nothing met her wandering glance\nSave the wild forest\u2019s green expanse\n  Extending far and wide.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Wooing.\n\n\nAs, clad in mendicant\u2019s disguise,\nHe questioned thus his destined prize,\nShe to the seeming saintly man\nThe story of her life began.\n\u201cMy guest is he,\u201d she thought, \u201cand I,\nTo \u2019scape his curse, must needs reply:\u201d\n\u201cChild of a noble sire I spring\nFrom Janak, fair Videha\u2019s king.\nMay every good be thine! my name\nIs S\u00edt\u00e1, R\u00e1ma\u2019s cherished dame.\nTwelve winters with my lord I spent\nMost happily with sweet content\nIn the rich home of Raghu\u2019s line,\nAnd every earthly joy was mine.\nTwelve pleasant years flew by, and then\nHis peers advised the king of men,\nR\u00e1ma, my lord, to consecrate\nJoint ruler of his ancient state.\nBut when the rites were scarce begun,\nTo consecrate Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son,\nThe queen Kaikey\u00ed, honoured dame,\nSought of her lord an ancient claim.\nHer plea of former service pressed,\nAnd made him grant her new request,\nTo banish R\u00e1ma to the wild\nAnd consecrate instead her child.\nThis double prayer on him, the best\nAnd truest king, she strongly pressed:\n\u201cMine eyes in sleep I will not close,\nNor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.\nThis very day my death shall bring\nIf R\u00e1ma be anointed king.\u201d\nAs thus she spake in envious ire,\nThe aged king, my husband\u2019s sire,\nBesought with fitting words; but she\nWas cold and deaf to every plea.\nAs yet my days are few; eighteen\nThe years of life that I have seen;\nAnd R\u00e1ma, best of all alive,\nHas passed of years a score and five\u2014\nR\u00e1ma the great and gentle, through\nAll region famed as pure and true,\nLarge-eyed and mighty-armed and tall,\nWith tender heart that cares for all.\nBut Da\u015baratha, led astray\nBy woman\u2019s wile and passion\u2019s sway,\nBy his strong love of her impelled,\nThe consecrating rites withheld.\nWhen, hopeful of the promised grace,\nMy R\u00e1ma sought his father\u2019s face,\nThe queen Kaikey\u00ed, ill at ease,\nSpoke to my lord brief words like these:\n\u201cHear, son of Raghu, hear from me\nThe words thy father says to thee:\n\u201cI yield this day to Bharat\u2019s hand,\nFree from all foes, this ancient land.\nFly from this home no longer thine,\nAnd dwell in woods five years and nine.\nLive in the forest and maintain\nMine honour pure from falsehood\u2019s stain.\u2019 \u201d\nThen R\u00e1ma spoke, untouched by dread:\n\u201cYea, it shall be as thou hast said.\u201d\nAnd answered, faithful to his vows,\nObeying Da\u015baratha\u2019s spouse:\n\u201cThe offered realm I would not take,\nBut still keep true the words he spake.\u201d\nThus, gentle Br\u00e1hman, R\u00e1ma still\nClung to his vow with firmest will.\nAnd valiant Lakshma\u1e47, dear to fame,\nHis brother by a younger dame,\nBold victor in the deadly fray,\nWould follow R\u00e1ma on his way.\nOn sternest vows his heart was set,\nAnd he, a youthful anchoret,\nBound up in twisted coil his hair\nAnd took the garb which hermits wear;\nThen with his bow to guard us, he\nWent forth with R\u00e1ma and with me.\nBy Queen Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s art bereft\nThe kingdom and our home we left,\nAnd bound by stern religious vows\nWe sought this shade of forest boughs.\nNow, best of Br\u00e1hmans, here we tread\nThese pathless regions dark and dread.\nBut come, refresh thy soul, and rest\nHere for a while an honoured guest,\nFor he, my lord, will soon be here\nWith fresh supply of woodland cheer,\nLarge store of venison of the buck,\nOr some great boar his hand has struck.\nMeanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:\nThy name, thy race, thy birth declare,\nAnd why with no companion thou\nRoamest in Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest now.\u201d\n\n  Thus questioned S\u00edt\u00e1, R\u00e1ma\u2019s dame.\nThen fierce the stranger\u2019s answer came:\n\u201cLord of the giant legions, he\nFrom whom celestial armies flee,\u2014\nThe dread of hell and earth and sky,\nR\u00e1va\u1e47 the R\u00e1kshas king am I.\nNow when thy gold-like form I view\nArrayed in silks of amber hue,\nMy love, O thou of perfect mould,\nFor all my dames is dead and cold.\nA thousand fairest women, torn\nFrom many a land my home adorn.\nBut come, loveliest lady, be\nThe queen of every dame and me.\nMy city Lank\u00e1, glorious town,\nLooks from a mountain\u2019s forehead down\nWhere ocean with his flash and foam\nBeats madly on mine island home.\nWith me, O S\u00edt\u00e1, shalt thou rove\nDelighted through each shady grove,\nNor shall thy happy breast retain\nFond memory of this life of pain.\nIn gay attire, a glittering band,\nFive thousand maids shall round thee stand,\nAnd serve thee at thy beck and sign,\nIf thou, fair S\u00edt\u00e1, wilt be mine.\u201d\n\n  Then forth her noble passion broke\nAs thus in turn the lady spoke:\n\u201cMe, me the wife of R\u00e1ma, him\nThe lion lord with lion\u2019s limb,\nStrong as the sea, firm as the rock,\nLike Indra in the battle shock.\nThe lord of each auspicious sign,\nThe glory of his princely line,\nLike some fair Bodh tree strong and tall,\nThe noblest and the best of all,\nR\u00e1ma, the heir of happy fate\nWho keeps his word inviolate,\nLord of the lion gait, possessed\nOf mighty arm and ample chest,\nR\u00e1ma the lion-warrior, him\nWhose moon bright face no fear can dim,\nR\u00e1ma, his bridled passions\u2019 lord,\nThe darling whom his sire adored,\u2014\nMe, me the true and loving dame\nOf R\u00e1ma, prince of deathless fame\u2014\nMe wouldst thou vainly woo and press?\nA jackal woo a lioness!\nSteal from the sun his glory! such\nThy hope Lord R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife to touch.\nHa! Thou hast seen the trees of gold,\nThe sign which dying eyes behold,\nThus seeking, weary of thy life,\nTo win the love of R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife.\nFool! wilt thou dare to rend away\nThe famished lion\u2019s bleeding prey,\nOr from the threatening jaws to take\nThe fang of some envenomed snake?\nWhat, wouldst thou shake with puny hand\nMount Mandar,(501) towering o\u2019er the land,\nPut poison to thy lips and think\nThe deadly cup a harmless drink?\nWith pointed needle touch thine eye,\nA razor to thy tongue apply,\nWho wouldst pollute with impious touch\nThe wife whom R\u00e1ma loves so much?\nBe round thy neck a millstone tied,\nAnd swim the sea from side to side;\nOr raising both thy hands on high\nPluck sun and moon from yonder sky;\nOr let the kindled flame be pressed,\nWrapt in thy garment, to thy breast;\nMore wild the thought that seeks to win\nR\u00e1ma\u2019s dear wife who knows not sin.\nThe fool who thinks with idle aim\nTo gain the love of R\u00e1ma\u2019s dame,\nWith dark and desperate footing makes\nHis way o\u2019er points of iron stakes.\nAs Ocean to a bubbling spring,\nThe lion to a fox, the king\nOf all the birds that ply the wing\n  To an ignoble crow\nAs gold to lead of little price,\nAs to the drainings of the rice\nThe drink they quaff in Paradise,\n  The Amrit\u2019s heavenly flow,\nAs sandal dust with perfume sweet\nIs to the mire that soils our feet,\n  A tiger to a cat,\nAs the white swan is to the owl,\nThe peacock to the waterfowl,\n  An eagle to a bat,\nSuch is my lord compared with thee;\nAnd when with bow and arrows he,\nMighty as Indra\u2019s self shall see\n  His foeman, armed to slay,\nThou, death-doomed like the fly that sips\nThe oil that on the altar drips,\nShalt cast the morsel from thy lips\n  And lose thy half-won prey.\u201d\nThus in high scorn the lady flung\nThe biting arrows of her tongue\nIn bitter words that pierced and stung\n  The rover of the night.\nShe ceased. Her gentle cheek grew pale,\nHer loosened limbs began to fail,\nAnd like a plantain in the gale\n  She trembled with affright.\nHe terrible as Death stood nigh,\nAnd watched with fierce exulting eye\n  The fear that shook her frame.\nTo terrify the lady more,\nHe counted all his triumphs o\u2019er,\nProclaimed the titles that he bore,\n  His pedigree and name.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVIII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nWith knitted brow and furious eye\nThe stranger made his fierce reply:\n\u201cIn me O fairest dame, behold\nThe brother of the King of Gold.\nThe Lord of Ten Necks my title, named\nR\u00e1va\u1e47, for might and valour famed.\nGods and Gandharva hosts I scare;\nSnakes, spirits, birds that roam the air\nFly from my coming, wild with fear,\nTrembling like men when Death is near.\nVai\u015brava\u1e47 once, my brother, wrought\nTo ire, encountered me and fought,\nBut yielding to superior might\nFled from his home in sore affright.\nLord of the man-drawn chariot, still\nHe dwells on famed Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s hill.\nI made the vanquished king resign\nThe glorious car which now is mine,\u2014\nPushpak, the far-renowned, that flies\nWill-guided through the buxom skies.\nCelestial hosts by Indra led\nFlee from my face disquieted,\nAnd where my dreaded feet appear\nThe wind is hushed or breathless is fear.\nWhere\u2019er I stand, where\u2019er I go\nThe troubled waters cease to flow,\nEach spell-bound wave is mute and still\nAnd the fierce sun himself is chill.\nBeyond the sea my Lank\u00e1 stands\nFilled with fierce forms and giant bands,\nA glorious city fair to see\nAs Indra\u2019s Amar\u00e1vat\u00ed.\nA towering height of solid wall,\nFlashing afar, surrounds it all,\nIts golden courts enchant the sight,\nAnd gates aglow with lazulite.\nSteeds, elephants, and cars are there,\nAnd drums\u2019 loud music fills the air,\nFair trees in lovely gardens grow\nWhose boughs with varied fruitage glow.\nThou, beauteous Queen, with me shalt dwell\nIn halls that suit a princess well,\nThy former fellows shall forget\nNor think of women with regret,\nNo earthly joy thy soul shall miss,\nAnd take its fill of heavenly bliss.\nOf mortal R\u00e1ma think no more,\nWhose terms of days will soon be o\u2019er.\nKing Da\u015baratha looked in scorn\nOn R\u00e1ma though the eldest born,\nSent to the woods the weakling fool,\nAnd set his darling son to rule.\nWhat, O thou large-eyed dame, hast thou\nTo do with fallen R\u00e1ma now,\nFrom home and kingdom forced to fly,\nA wretched hermit soon to die?\nAccept thy lover, nor refuse\nThe giant king who fondly woos.\nO listen, nor reject in scorn\nA heart by K\u00e1ma\u2019s arrows torn.\nIf thou refuse to hear my prayer,\nOf grief and coming woe beware;\nFor the sad fate will fall on thee\nWhich came on hapless Urva\u015b\u00ed,\nWhen with her foot she chanced to touch\nPur\u00faravas, and sorrowed much.(502)\nMy little finger raised in fight\nWere more than match for R\u00e1ma\u2019s might.\nO fairest, blithe and happy be\nWith him whom fortune sends to thee.\u201d\n\n  Such were the words the giant said,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s angry eyes were red.\nShe answered in that lonely place\nThe monarch of the giant race:\n\n  \u201cArt thou the brother of the Lord\nOf Gold by all the world adored,\nAnd sprung of that illustrious seed\nWouldst now attempt this evil deed?\nI tell thee, impious Monarch, all\nThe giants by thy sin will fall,\nWhose reckless lord and king thou art,\nWith foolish mind and lawless heart.\nYea, one may hope to steal the wife\nOf Indra and escape with life.\nBut he who R\u00e1ma\u2019s dame would tear\nFrom his loved side must needs despair.\nYea, one may steal fair \u015aach\u00ed, dame\nOf Him who shoots the thunder flame,\nMay live successful in his aim\n  And length of day may see;\nBut hope, O giant King, in vain,\nThough cups of Amrit thou may drain,\nTo shun the penalty and pain\n  Of wronging one like me.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIX. The Rape Of S\u00edt\u00e1.\n\n\nThe R\u00e1kshas monarch, thus addressed,\nHis hands a while together pressed,\nAnd straight before her startled eyes\nStood monstrous in his giant size.\nThen to the lady, with the lore\nOf eloquence, he spoke once more:\n\u201cThou scarce,\u201d he cried, \u201chast heard aright\nThe glories of my power and might.\nI borne sublime in air can stand\nAnd with these arms upheave the land,\nDrink the deep flood of Ocean dry\nAnd Death with conquering force defy,\nPierce the great sun with furious dart\nAnd to her depths cleave earth apart.\nSee, thou whom love and beauty blind,\nI wear each form as wills my mind.\u201d\n\n  As thus he spake in burning ire\nHis glowing eyes were red with fire.\nHis gentle garb aside was thrown\nAnd all his native shape was shown.\nTerrific, monstrous, wild, and dread\nAs the dark God who rules the dead,\nHis fiery eyes in fury rolled,\nHis limbs were decked with glittering gold.\nLike some dark cloud the monster showed,\nAnd his fierce breast with fury glowed.\nThe ten-faced rover of the night,\nWith twenty arms exposed to sight,\nHis saintly guise aside had laid\nAnd all his giant height displayed.\nAttired in robes of crimson dye\nHe stood and watched with angry eye\nThe lady in her bright array\nResplendent as the dawn of day\nWhen from the east the sunbeams break,\nAnd to the dark-haired lady spake:\n\u201cIf thou would call that lord thine own\nWhose fame in every world is known,\nLook kindly on my love, and be\nBride of a consort meet for thee.\nWith me let blissful years be spent,\nFor ne\u2019er thy choice shalt thou repent.\nNo deed of mine shall e\u2019er displease\nMy darling as she lives at ease.\nThy love for mortal man resign,\nAnd to a worthier lord incline.\nAh foolish lady, seeming wise\nIn thine own weak and partial eyes,\nBy what fair graces art thou held\nTo R\u00e1ma from his realm expelled?\nMisfortunes all his life attend,\nAnd his brief days are near their end.\nUnworthy prince, infirm of mind!\nA woman spoke and he resigned\nHis home and kingdom and withdrew\nFrom troops of friends and retinue.\nAnd sought this forest dark and dread\nBy savage beasts inhabited.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1va\u1e47 urged the lady meet\nFor love, whose words were soft and sweet.\nNear and more near the giant pressed\nAs love\u2019s hot fire inflamed his breast.\nThe leader of the giant crew\nHis arm around the lady threw:\nThus Budha(503) with ill-omened might\nSteals Rohi\u1e47\u00ed\u2019s delicious light.\nOne hand her glorious tresses grasped,\nOne with its ruthless pressure clasped\nThe body of his lovely prize,\nThe Maithil dame with lotus eyes.\nThe silvan Gods in wild alarm\nMarked his huge teeth and ponderous arm,\nAnd from that Death-like presence fled,\nOf mountain size and towering head.\nThen seen was R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s magic car\nAglow with gold which blazed afar,\u2014\nThe mighty car which asses drew\nThundering as it onward flew.\nHe spared not harsh rebuke to chide\nThe lady as she moaned and cried,\nThen with his arm about her waist\nHis captive in the car he placed.\nIn vain he threatened: long and shrill\nRang out her lamentation still,\nO R\u00e1ma! which no fear could stay:\nBut her dear lord was far away.\nThen rose the fiend, and toward the skies\nBore his poor helpless struggling prize:\nHurrying through the air above\nThe dame who loathed his proffered love.\nSo might a soaring eagle bear\nA serpent\u2019s consort through the air.\nAs on he bore her through the sky\nShe shrieked aloud her bitter cry.\nAs when some wretch\u2019s lips complain\nIn agony of maddening pain;\n\u201cO Lakshma\u1e47, thou whose joy is still\nTo do thine elder brother\u2019s will,\nThis fiend, who all disguises wears,\nFrom R\u00e1ma\u2019s side his darling tears.\nThou who couldst leave bliss, fortune, all,\nYea life itself at duty\u2019s call,\nDost thou not see this outrage done\nTo hapless me, O Raghu\u2019s son?\n\u2019Tis thine, O victor of the foe,\nTo bring the haughtiest spirit low,\nHow canst thou such an outrage see\nAnd let the guilty fiend go free?\nAh, seldom in a moment\u2019s time\nComes bitter fruit of sin and crime,\nBut in the day of harvest pain\nComes like the ripening of the grain.\nSo thou whom fate and folly lead\nTo ruin for this guilty deed,\nShalt die by R\u00e1ma\u2019s arm ere long\nA dreadful death for hideous wrong.\nAh, too successful in their ends\nAre Queen Kaikey\u00ed and her friends,\nWhen virtuous R\u00e1ma, dear to fame,\nIs mourning for his ravished dame.\nAh me, ah me! a long farewell\nTo lawn and glade and forest dell\nIn Janasth\u00e1n\u2019s wild region, where\nThe Cassia trees are bright and fair\nWith all your tongues to R\u00e1ma say\nThat R\u00e1va\u1e47 bears his wife away.\nFarewell, a long farewell to thee,\nO pleasant stream God\u00e1var\u00ed,\nWhose rippling waves are ever stirred\nBy many a glad wild water-bird!\nAll ye to R\u00e1ma\u2019s ear relate\nThe giant\u2019s deed and S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s fate.\nO all ye Gods who love this ground\nWhere trees of every leaf abound,\nTell R\u00e1ma I am stolen hence,\nI pray you all with reverence.\nOn all the living things beside\nThat these dark boughs and coverts hide,\nYe flocks of birds, ye troops of deer,\nI call on you my prayer to hear.\nAll ye to R\u00e1ma\u2019s ear proclaim\nThat R\u00e1va\u1e47 tears away his dame\nWith forceful arms,\u2014his darling wife,\nDearer to R\u00e1ma than his life.\nO, if he knew I dwelt in hell,\nMy mighty lord, I know full well,\nWould bring me, conqueror, back to-day,\nThough Y\u00e1ma\u2019s self reclaimed his prey.\u201d\n\n  Thus from the air the lady sent\nWith piteous voice her last lament,\nAnd as she wept she chanced to see\nThe vulture on a lofty tree.\nAs R\u00e1va\u1e47 bore her swiftly by,\nOn the dear bird she bent her eye,\nAnd with a voice which woe made faint\nRenewed to him her wild complaint:\n\n  \u201cO see, the king who rules the race\nOf giants, cruel, fierce and base,\nR\u00e1va\u1e47 the spoiler bears me hence\nThe helpless prey of violence.\nThis fiend who roves in midnight shade\nBy thee, dear bird, can ne\u2019er be stayed,\nFor he is armed and fierce and strong\nTriumphant in the power to wrong.\nFor thee remains one only task,\nTo do, kind friend, the thing I ask.\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s ear by thee be borne\nHow S\u00edt\u00e1 from her home is torn,\nAnd to the valiant Lakshma\u1e47 tell\nThe giant\u2019s deed and what befell.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto L. Jat\u00e1yus.\n\n\nThe vulture from his slumber woke\nAnd heard the words which S\u00edt\u00e1 spoke\nHe raised his eye and looked on her,\nLooked on her giant ravisher.\nThat noblest bird with pointed beak,\nMajestic as a mountain peak,\nHigh on the tree addressed the king\nOf giants, wisely counselling:\n\u201cO Ten-necked lord, I firmly hold\nTo faith and laws ordained of old,\nAnd thou, my brother, shouldst refrain\nFrom guilty deeds that shame and stain.\nThe vulture king supreme in air,\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yus is the name I bear.\nThy captive, known by S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s name,\nIs the dear consort and the dame\nOf R\u00e1ma, Da\u015baratha\u2019s heir\nWho makes the good of all his care.\nLord of the world in might he vies\nWith the great Gods of seas and skies.\nThe law he boasts to keep allows\nNo king to touch another\u2019s spouse,\nAnd, more than all, a prince\u2019s dame\nHigh honour and respect may claim.\nBack to the earth thy way incline,\nNor think of one who is not thine.\nHeroic souls should hold it shame\nTo stoop to deeds which others blame,\nAnd all respect by them is shown\nTo dames of others as their own.\nNot every case of bliss and gain\nThe Scripture\u2019s holy texts explain,\nAnd subjects, when that light is dim,\nLook to their prince and follow him.\nThe king is bliss and profit, he\nIs store of treasures fair to see,\nAnd all the people\u2019s fortunes spring,\nTheir joy and misery, from the king.\nIf, lord of giant race, thy mind\nBe fickle, false, to sin inclined,\nHow wilt thou kingly place retain?\nHigh thrones in heaven no sinners gain.\nThe soul which gentle passions sway\nNe\u2019er throws its nobler part away,\nNor will the mansion of the base\nLong be the good man\u2019s dwelling-place.\nPrince R\u00e1ma, chief of high renown,\nHas wronged thee not in field or town.\nNe\u2019er has he sinned against thee: how\nCanst thou resolve to harm him now?\nIf moved by \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1\u2019s prayer\nThe giant Khara sought him there,\nAnd fighting fell with baffled aim,\nHis and not R\u00e1ma\u2019s is the blame.\nSay, mighty lord of giants, say\nWhat fault on R\u00e1ma canst thou lay?\nWhat has the world\u2019s great master done\nThat thou should steal his precious one?\nQuick, quick the Maithil dame release;\nLet R\u00e1ma\u2019s consort go in peace,\nLest scorched by his terrific eye\nBeneath his wrath thou fall and die\nLike Vritra when Lord Indra threw\nThe lightning flame that smote and slew.\nAh fool, with blinded eyes to take\nHome to thy heart a venomed snake!\nAh foolish eyes, too blind to see\nThat Death\u2019s dire coils entangle thee!\nThe prudent man his strength will spare,\nNor lift a load too great to bear.\nContent is he with wholesome food\nWhich gives him life and strength renewed,\nBut who would dare the guilty deed\nThat brings no fame or glorious meed,\nWhere merit there is none to win\nAnd vengeance soon o\u2019ertakes the sin?\nMy course of life, Pulastya\u2019s son,\nFor sixty thousand years has run.\nLord of my kind I still maintain\nMine old hereditary reign.\nI, worn by years, am older far\nThan thou, young lord of bow and car,\nIn coat of glittering mail encased\nAnd armed with arrows at thy waist,\nBut not unchallenged shalt thou go,\nOr steal the dame without a blow.\nThou canst not, King, before mine eyes\nBear off unchecked thy lovely prize,\nSafe as the truth of Scripture bent\nBy no close logic\u2019s argument.\nStay if thy courage let thee, stay\nAnd meet me in the battle fray,\nAnd thou shalt stain the earth with gore\nFalling as Khara fell before.\nSoon R\u00e1ma, clothed in bark, shall smite\nThee, his proud foe, in deadly fight,\u2014\nR\u00e1ma, from whom have oft times fled\nThe Daitya hosts discomfited.\nNo power have I to kill or slay:\nThe princely youths are far away,\nBut soon shalt thou with fearful eye\nStruck down beneath their arrows lie.\nBut while I yet have life and sense,\nThou shalt not, tyrant, carry hence\nFair S\u00edt\u00e1, Ram\u00e1\u2019s honoured queen,\nWith lotus eyes and lovely mien.\nWhate\u2019er the pain, whate\u2019er the cost,\nThough in the struggle life be lost,\nThe will of Raghu\u2019s noblest son\nAnd Da\u015baratha must be done.\nStay for a while, O R\u00e1va\u1e47, stay,\nOne hour thy flying car delay,\nAnd from that glorious chariot thou\nShalt fall like fruit from shaken bough,\nFor I to thee, while yet I live,\nThe welcome of a foe will give.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LI. The Combat.\n\n\nR\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s red eyes in fury rolled:\nBright with his armlets\u2019 flashing gold,\nIn high disdain, by passion stirred\nHe rushed against the sovereign bird.\nWith clash and din and furious blows\nOf murderous battle met the foes:\nThus urged by winds two clouds on high\nMeet warring in the stormy sky.\nThen fierce the dreadful combat raged\nAs fiend and bird in war engaged,\nAs if two winged mountains sped\nTo dire encounter overhead.\nKeen pointed arrows thick and fast,\nIn never ceasing fury cast,\nRained hurtling on the vulture king\nAnd smote him on the breast and wing.\nBut still that noblest bird sustained\nThe cloud of shafts which R\u00e1va\u1e47 rained,\nAnd with strong beak and talons bent\nThe body of his foeman rent.\nThen wild with rage the ten-necked king\nLaid ten swift arrows on his string,\u2014\nDread as the staff of Death were they,\nSo terrible and keen to slay.\nStraight to his ear the string he drew,\nStraight to the mark the arrows flew,\nAnd pierced by every iron head\nThe vulture\u2019s mangled body bled.\nOne glance upon the car he bent\nWhere S\u00edt\u00e1 wept with shrill lament,\nThen heedless of his wounds and pain\nRushed at the giant king again.\nThen the brave vulture with the stroke\nOf his resistless talons broke\nThe giant\u2019s shafts and bow whereon\nThe fairest pearls and jewels shone.\nThe monster paused, by rage unmanned:\nA second bow soon armed his hand,\nWhence pointed arrows swift and true\nIn hundreds, yea in thousands, flew.\nThe monarch of the vultures, plied\nWith ceaseless darts on every side,\nShowed like a bird that turns to rest\nClose covered by the branch-built nest.\nHe shook his pinions to repel\nThe storm of arrows as it fell;\nThen with his talons snapped in two\nThe mighty bow which R\u00e1va\u1e47 drew.\nNext with terrific wing he smote\nSo fiercely on the giant\u2019s coat,\nThe harness, glittering with the glow\nOf fire, gave way beneath the blow.\nWith storm of murderous strokes he beat\nThe harnessed asses strong and fleet,\u2014\nEach with a goblin\u2019s monstrous face\nAnd plates of gold his neck to grace.\nThen on the car he turned his ire,\u2014\nThe will-moved car that shone like fire,\nAnd broke the glorious chariot, broke\nThe golden steps and pole and yoke.\nThe chouris and the silken shade\nLike the full moon to view displayed,\nTogether with the guards who held\nThose emblems, to the ground he felled.\nThe royal vulture hovered o\u2019er\nThe driver\u2019s head, and pierced and tore\nWith his strong beak and dreaded claws\nHis mangled brow and cheek and jaws.\nWith broken car and sundered bow,\nHis charioteer and team laid low,\nOne arm about the lady wound,\nSprang the fierce giant to the ground.\nSpectators of the combat, all\nThe spirits viewed the monster\u2019s fall:\nLauding the vulture every one\nCried with glad voice, Well done! well done!\nBut weak with length of days, at last\nThe vulture\u2019s strength was failing fast.\nThe fiend again assayed to bear\nThe lady through the fields of air.\nBut when the vulture saw him rise\nTriumphant with his trembling prize,\nBearing the sword that still was left\nWhen other arms were lost or cleft,\nOnce more, impatient of repose,\nSwift from the earth her champion rose,\nHung in the way the fiend would take,\nAnd thus addressing R\u00e1va\u1e47 spake:\n\u201cThou, King of giants, rash and blind,\nWilt be the ruin of thy kind,\nStealing the wife of R\u00e1ma, him\nWith lightning scars on chest and limb.\nA mighty host obeys his will\nAnd troops of slaves his palace fill;\nHis lords of state are wise and true,\nKinsmen has he and retinue.\nAs thirsty travellers drain the cup,\nThou drinkest deadly poison up.\nThe rash and careless fool who heeds\nNo coming fruit of guilty deeds,\nA few short years of life shall see,\nAnd perish doomed to death like thee.\nSay whither wilt thou fly to loose\nThy neck from Death\u2019s entangling noose,\nCaught like the fish that finds too late\nThe hook beneath the treacherous bait?\nNever, O King\u2014of this be sure\u2014\nWill Raghu\u2019s fiery sons endure,\nTerrific in their vengeful rage,\nThis insult to their hermitage.\nThy guilty hands this day have done\nA deed which all reprove and shun,\nUnworthly of a noble chief,\nThe pillage loved by coward thief.\nStay, if thy heart allow thee, stay\nAnd meet me in the deadly fray.\nSoon shall thou stain the earth with gore,\nAnd fall as Khara fell before.\nThe fruits of former deeds o\u2019erpower\nThe sinner in his dying hour:\nAnd such a fate on thee, O King,\nThy tyranny and madness bring.\nNot e\u2019en the Self-existent Lord,\nWho reigns by all the worlds adored,\nWould dare attempt a guilty deed\nWhich the dire fruits of crime succeed.\u201d\n\n  Thus brave Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus, best of birds,\nAddressed the fiend with moving words,\nThen ready for the swift attack\nSwooped down upon the giant\u2019s back.\nDown to the bone the talons went;\nWith many a wound the flesh was rent:\nSuch blows infuriate drivers deal\nTheir elephants with pointed steel.\nFixed in his back the strong beak lay,\nThe talons stripped the flesh away.\nHe fought with claws and beak and wing,\nAnd tore the long hair of the king.\nStill as the royal vulture beat\nThe giant with his wings and feet,\nSwelled the fiend\u2019s lips, his body shook\nWith furious rage too great to brook.\nAbout the Maithil dame he cast\nOne huge left arm and held her fast.\nIn furious rage to frenzy fanned\nHe struck the vulture with his hand.\nJat\u00e1yus mocked the vain assay,\nAnd rent his ten left arms away.\nDown dropped the severed limbs: anew\nTen others from his body grew:\nThus bright with pearly radiance glide\nDread serpents from the hillock side,\nAgain in wrath the giant pressed\nThe lady closer to his breast,\nAnd foot and fist sent blow on blow\nIn ceaseless fury at the foe.\nSo fierce and dire the battle, waged\nBetween those mighty champions, raged:\nHere was the lord of giants, there\nThe noblest of the birds of air.\nThus, as his love of R\u00e1ma taught,\nThe faithful vulture strove and fought.\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47 seized his sword and smote\nHis wings and side and feet and throat.\nAt mangled side and wing he bled;\nHe fell, and life was almost fled.\nThe lady saw her champion lie,\nHis plumes distained with gory dye,\nAnd hastened to the vulture\u2019s side\nGrieving as though a kinsman died.\n  The lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s island viewed\n    The vulture as he lay:\n  Whose back like some dark cloud was hued,\n    His breast a paly grey,\n  Like ashes, when by none renewed,\n    The flame has died away.\n  The lady saw with mournful eye,\n    Her champion press the plain,\u2014\n  The royal bird, her true ally\n    Whom R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s might had slain.\n  Her soft arms locked in strict embrace\n    Around his neck she kept,\n  And lovely with her moon-bright face\n    Bent o\u2019er her friend and wept.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Flight.\n\n\nFair as the lord of silvery rays\nWhom every star in heaven obeys,\nThe Maithil dame her plaint renewed\nO\u2019er him by R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s might subdued:\n\u201cDreams, omens, auguries foreshow\nOur coming lot of weal and woe:\nBut thou, my R\u00e1ma, couldst not see\nThe grievous blow which falls on thee.\nThe birds and deer desert the brakes\nAnd show the path my captor takes,\nAnd thus e\u2019en now this royal bird\nFlew to mine aid by pity stirred.\nSlain for my sake in death he lies,\nThe broad-winged rover of the skies.\nO R\u00e1ma, haste, thine aid I crave:\nO Lakshma\u1e47, why delay to save?\nBrave sons of old Ikshv\u00e1ku, hear\nAnd rescue in this hour of fear.\u201d\n\n  Her flowery wreath was torn and rent,\nCrushed was each sparkling ornament.\nShe with weak arms and trembling knees\nClung like a creeper to the trees,\nAnd like some poor deserted thing\nWith wild shrieks made the forest ring.\nBut swift the giant reached her side,\nAs loud on R\u00e1ma\u2019s name she cried.\nFierce as grim Death one hand he laid\nUpon her tresses\u2019 lovely braid.\n\u201cThat touch, thou impious King, shall be\nThe ruin of thy race and thee.\u201d\nThe universal world in awe\nThat outrage on the lady saw,\nAll nature shook convulsed with dread,\nAnd darkness o\u2019er the land was spread.\nThe Lord of Day grew dark and chill,\nAnd every breath of air was still.\nThe Eternal Father of the sky\nBeheld the crime with heavenly eye,\nAnd spake with solemn voice, \u201cThe deed,\nThe deed is done, of old decreed.\u201d\nSad were the saints within the grove,\nBut triumph with their sorrow strove.\nThey wept to see the Maithil dame\nEndure the outrage, scorn, and shame:\nThey joyed because his life should pay\nThe penalty incurred that day.\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47 raised her up, and bare\nHis captive through the fields of air,\nCalling with accents loud and shrill\nOn R\u00e1ma and on Lakshma\u1e47 still.\nWith sparkling gems on arm and breast,\nIn silk of paly amber dressed,\nHigh in the air the Maithil dame\nGleamed like the lightning\u2019s flashing flame.\nThe giant, as the breezes blew\nUpon her robes of amber hue,\nAnd round him twined that gay attire,\nShowed like a mountain girt with fire.\nThe lady, fairest of the fair,\nHad wreathed a garland round her hair;\nIts lotus petals bright and sweet\nRained down about the giant\u2019s feet.\nHer vesture, bright as burning gold,\nGave to the wind each glittering fold,\nFair as a gilded cloud that gleams\nTouched by the Day-God\u2019s tempered beams.\nYet struggling in the fiend\u2019s embrace,\nThe lady with her sweet pure face,\nFar from her lord, no longer wore\nThe light of joy that shone before.\nLike some sad lily by the side\nOf waters which the sun has dried;\nLike the pale moon uprising through\nAn autumn cloud of darkest hue,\nSo was her perfect face between\nThe arms of giant R\u00e1va\u1e47 seen:\nFair with the charm of braided tress\nAnd forehead\u2019s finished loveliness;\nFair with the ivory teeth that shed\nWhite lustre through the lips\u2019 fine red,\nFair as the lotus when the bud\nIs rising from the parent flood.\nWith faultless lip and nose and eye,\nDear as the moon that floods the sky\nWith gentle light, of perfect mould,\nShe seemed a thing of burnished gold,\nThough on her cheek the traces lay\nOf tears her hand had brushed away.\nBut as the moon-beams swiftly fade\nEre the great Day-God shines displayed,\nSo in that form of perfect grace\nStill trembling in the fiend\u2019s embrace,\nFrom her beloved R\u00e1ma reft,\nNo light of pride or joy was left.\nThe lady with her golden hue\nO\u2019er the swart fiend a lustre threw,\nAs when embroidered girths enfold\nAn elephant with gleams of gold.\nFair as the lily\u2019s bending stem,\u2014\nHer arms adorned with many a gem,\nA lustre to the fiend she lent\nGleaming from every ornament,\nAs when the cloud-shot flashes light\nThe shadows of a mountain height.\nWhene\u2019er the breezes earthward bore\nThe tinkling of the zone she wore,\nHe seemed a cloud of darkness hue\nSending forth murmurs as it flew.\nAs on her way the dame was sped\nFrom her sweet neck fair flowers were shed,\nThe swift wind caught the flowery rain\nAnd poured it o\u2019er the fiend again.\nThe wind-stirred blossoms, sweet to smell,\nOn the dark brows of R\u00e1va\u1e47 fell,\nLike lunar constellations set\nOn Meru for a coronet.\nFrom her small foot an anklet fair\nWith jewels slipped, and through the air,\nLike a bright circlet of the flame\nOf thunder, to the valley came.\nThe Maithil lady, fair to see\nAs the young leaflet of a tree\nClad in the tender hues of spring,\nFlashed glory on the giant king,\nAs when a gold-embroidered zone\nAround an elephant is thrown.\nWhile, bearing far the lady, through\nThe realms of sky the giant flew,\nShe like a gleaming meteor cast\nA glory round her as she passed.\nThen from each limb in swift descent\nDropped many a sparkling ornament:\nOn earth they rested dim and pale\nLike fallen stars when virtues fail.(504)\nAround her neck a garland lay\nBright as the Star-God\u2019s silvery ray:\nIt fell and flashed like Gang\u00e1 sent\nFrom heaven above the firmament.(505)\nThe birds of every wing had flocked\nTo stately trees by breezes rocked:\nThese bowed their wind-swept heads and said:\n\u201cMy lady sweet, be comforted.\u201d\nWith faded blooms each brook within\nWhose waters moved no gleamy fin,\nStole sadly through the forest dell\nMourning the dame it loved so well.\nFrom every woodland region near\nCame lions, tigers, birds, and deer,\nAnd followed, each with furious look,\nThe way her flying shadow took.\nFor S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s loss each lofty hill\nWhose tears were waterfall, and rill,\nLifting on high each arm-like steep,\nSeemed in the general woe to weep.\nWhen the great sun, the lord of day,\nSaw R\u00e1va\u1e47 tear the dame away,\nHis glorious light began to fail\nAnd all his disk grew cold and pale.\n\u201cIf R\u00e1va\u1e47 from the forest flies\nWith R\u00e1ma\u2019s S\u00edt\u00e1 as his prize,\nJustice and truth have vanished hence,\nHonour and right and innocence.\u201d\nThus rose the cry of wild despair\nFrom spirits as they gathered there.\nIn trembling troops in open lawns\nWept, wild with woe, the startled fawns,\nAnd a strange terror changed the eyes\nThey lifted to the distant skies.\nOn silvan Gods who love the dell\nA sudden fear and trembling fell,\nAs in the deepest woe they viewed\nThe lady by the fiend subdued.\nStill in loud shrieks was heard afar\nThat voice whose sweetness naught could mar,\nWhile eager looks of fear and woe\nShe bent upon the earth below.\nThe lady of each winning wile\nWith pearly teeth and lovely smile,\nSeized by the lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle,\n  Looked down for friends in vain.\nShe saw no friend to aid her, none,\nNot R\u00e1ma nor the younger son\nOf Da\u015baratha, and undone\n  She swooned with fear and pain.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Threats.\n\n\nSoon as the Maithil lady knew\nThat high through air the giant flew,\nDistressed with grief and sore afraid\nHer troubled spirit sank dismayed.\nThen, as anew the waters welled\nFrom those red eyes which sorrow swelled,\nForth in keen words her passion broke,\nAnd to the fierce-eyed fiend she spoke:\n\u201cCanst thou attempt a deed so base,\nUntroubled by the deep disgrace,\u2014\nTo steal me from my home and fly,\nWhen friend or guardian none was nigh?\nThy craven soul that longed to steal,\nFearing the blows that warriors deal,\nUpon a magic deer relied\nTo lure my husband from my side,\nFriend of his sire, the vulture king\nLies low on earth with mangled wing,\nWho gave his aged life for me\nAnd died for her he sought to free.\nAh, glorious strength indeed is thine,\nThou meanest of thy giant line,\nWhose courage dared to tell thy name\nAnd conquer in the fight a dame.\nDoes the vile deed that thou hast done\nCause thee no shame, thou wicked one\u2014\nA woman from her home to rend\nWhen none was near his aid to lend?\nThrough all the worlds, O giant King,\nThe tidings of this deed will ring,\nThis deed in law and honour\u2019s spite\nBy one who claims a hero\u2019s might.\nShame on thy boasted valour, shame!\nThy prowess is an empty name.\nShame, giant, on this cursed deed\nFor which thy race is doomed to bleed!\nThou fliest swifter than the gale,\nFor what can strength like thine avail?\nStay for one hour, O R\u00e1va\u1e47, stay;\nThou shalt not flee with life away.\nSoon as the royal chieftains\u2019 sight\nFalls on the thief who roams by night,\nThou wilt not, tyrant, live one hour\nThough backed by all thy legions\u2019 power.\nNe\u2019er can thy puny strength sustain\nThe tempest of their arrowy rain:\nHave e\u2019er the trembling birds withstood\nThe wild flames raging in the wood?\nHear me, O R\u00e1va\u1e47, let me go,\nAnd save thy soul from coming woe.\nOr if thou wilt not set me free,\nWroth for this insult done to me.\nWith his brave brother\u2019s aid my lord\nAgainst thy life will raise his sword.\nA guilty hope inflames thy breast\nHis wife from R\u00e1ma\u2019s home to wrest.\nAh fool, the hope thou hast is vain;\nThy dreams of bliss shall end in pain.\nIf torn from all I love by thee\nMy godlike lord no more I see,\nSoon will I die and end my woes,\nNor live the captive of my foes.\nAh fool, with blinded eyes to choose\nThe evil and the good refuse!\nSo the sick wretch with stubborn will\nTurns fondly to the cates that kill,\nAnd madly draws his lips away\nFrom medicine that would check decay.\nAbout thy neck securely wound\nThe deadly coil of Fate is bound,\nAnd thou, O R\u00e1va\u1e47, dost not fear\nAlthough the hour of death is near.\nWith death-doomed sight thine eyes behold\nThe gleaming of the trees of gold,\u2014\nSee dread Vaitara\u1e47i, the flood\nThat rolls a stream of foamy blood,\u2014\nSee the dark wood by all abhorred\u2014\nIts every leaf a threatening sword.\nThe tangled thickets thou shall tread\nWhere thorns with iron points are spread.\nFor never can thy days be long,\nBase plotter of this shame and wrong\nTo R\u00e1ma of the lofty soul:\nHe dies who drinks the poisoned bowl.\nThe coils of death around thee lie:\nThey hold thee and thou canst not fly.\nAh whither, tyrant, wouldst thou run\nThe vengeance of my lord to shun?\nBy his unaided arm alone\nWere twice seven thousand fiends o\u2019erthrown:\nYes, in the twinkling of an eye\nHe forced thy mightiest fiends to die.\nAnd shall that lord of lion heart,\nSkilled in the bow and spear and dart,\nSpare thee, O fiend, in battle strife,\nThe robber of his darling wife?\u201d\n\n  These were her words, and more beside,\nBy wrath and bitter hate supplied.\nThen by her woe and fear o\u2019erthrown\nShe wept again and made her moan.\nAs long she wept in grief and dread,\nScarce conscious of the words she said,\nThe wicked giant onward fled\n  And bore her through the air.\nAs firm he held the Maithil dame,\nStill wildly struggling, o\u2019er her frame\nWith grief and bitter misery came\n  The trembling of despair.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIV. Lank\u00e1.\n\n\nHe bore her on in rapid flight,\nAnd not a friend appeared in sight.\nBut on a hill that o\u2019er the wood\nRaised its high top five monkeys stood.\nFrom her fair neck her scarf she drew,\nAnd down the glittering vesture flew.\nWith earring, necklet, chain, and gem,\nDescending in the midst of them:\n\u201cFor these,\u201d she thought, \u201cmy path may show,\nAnd tell my lord the way I go.\u201d\nNor did the fiend, in wild alarm,\nMark when she drew from neck and arm\nAnd foot the gems and gold, and sent\nTo earth each gleaming ornament.\nThe monkeys raised their tawny eyes\nThat closed not in their first surprise,\nAnd saw the dark-eyed lady, where\nShe shrieked above them in the air.\nHigh o\u2019er their heads the giant passed\nHolding the weeping lady fast.\nO\u2019er Pampa\u2019s flashing flood he sped\nAnd on to Lank\u00e1\u2019s city fled.\nHe bore away in senseless joy\nThe prize that should his life destroy,\nLike the rash fool who hugs beneath\nHis robe a snake with venomed teeth.\nSwift as an arrow from a bow,\nSpeeding o\u2019er lands that lay below,\nSublime in air his course he took\nO\u2019er wood and rock and lake and brook.\nHe passed at length the sounding sea\nWhere monstrous creatures wander free,\u2014\nSeat of Lord Varu\u1e47\u2019s ancient reign,\nController of the eternal main.\nThe angry waves were raised and tossed\nAs R\u00e1va\u1e47 with the lady crossed,\nAnd fish and snake in wild unrest\nShowed flashing fin and gleaming crest.\nThen from the blessed troops who dwell\nIn air celestial voices fell:\n\u201cO ten-necked King,\u201d they cried, \u201cattend:\nThis guilty deed will bring thine end.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1va\u1e47 speeding like the storm,\nBearing his death in human form,\nThe struggling S\u00edt\u00e1, lighted down\nIn royal Lank\u00e1\u2019s glorious town;\nA city bright and rich, that showed\nWell-ordered street and noble road;\nArranged with just division, fair\nWith multitudes in court and square.\nThus, all his journey done, he passed\nWithin his royal home at last.\nThere in a queenly bower he placed\nThe black-eyed dame with dainty waist:\nThus in her chamber M\u00e1y\u00e1 laid\nThe lovely M\u00e1y\u00e1, demon maid.\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47 gave command to all\nThe dread she-fiends who filled the hall:\n\u201cThis captive lady watch and guard\nFrom sight of man and woman barred.\nBut all the fair one asks beside\nBe with unsparing hand supplied:\nAs though \u2019twere I that asked, withhold\nNo pearls or dress or gems or gold.\nAnd she among you that shall dare\nOf purpose or through want of care\nOne word to vex her soul to say,\nThrows her unvalued life away.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the monarch of their race\nTo those she-fiends who thronged the place,\nAnd pondering on the course to take\nWent from the chamber as he spake.\nHe saw eight giants, strong and dread,\nOn flesh of bleeding victims fed,\nProud in the boon which Brahm\u00e1 gave,\nAnd trusting in its power to save.\nHe thus the mighty chiefs addressed\nOf glorious power and strength possessed:\n\u201cArm, warriors, with the spear and bow;\nWith all your speed from Lank\u00e1 go,\nFor Janasth\u00e1n, our own no more,\nIs now defiled with giants\u2019 gore;\nThe seat of Khara\u2019s royal state\nIs left unto us desolate.\nIn your brave hearts and might confide,\nAnd cast ignoble fear aside.\nGo, in that desert region dwell\nWhere the fierce giants fought and fell.\nA glorious host that region held,\nFor power and might unparalleled,\nBy D\u00fasha\u1e47 and brave Khara led,\u2014\nAll, slain by R\u00e1ma\u2019s arrows, bled.\nHence boundless wrath that spurns control\nReigns paramount within my soul,\nAnd naught but R\u00e1ma\u2019s death can sate\nThe fury of my vengeful hate.\nI will not close my slumbering eyes\nTill by this hand my foeman dies.\nAnd when mine arm has slain the foe\nWho laid those giant princes low,\nLong will I triumph in the deed,\nLike one enriched in utmost need.\nNow go; that I this end may gain,\nIn Janasth\u00e1n, O chiefs, remain.\nWatch R\u00e1ma there with keenest eye,\nAnd all his deeds and movements spy.\nGo forth, no helping art neglect,\nBe brave and prompt and circumspect,\nAnd be your one endeavour still\nTo aid mine arm this foe to kill.\nOft have I seen your warrior might\nProved in the forehead of the fight,\nAnd sure of strength I know so well\nSend you in Janasth\u00e1n to dwell.\u201d\n  The giants heard with prompt assent\n    The pleasant words he said,\n  And each before his master bent\n    For meet salute, his head.\n  Then as he bade, without delay,\n    From Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate they passed,\n  And hurried forward on their way\n    Invisible and fast.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LV. S\u00edt\u00e1 In Prison.\n\n\nThus R\u00e1va\u1e47 his commandment gave\nTo those eight giants strong and brave,\nSo thinking in his foolish pride\nAgainst all dangers to provide.\nThen with his wounded heart aflame\nWith love he thought upon the dame,\nAnd took with hasty steps the way\nTo the fair chamber where she lay.\nHe saw the gentle lady there\nWeighed down by woe too great to bear,\nAmid the throng of fiends who kept\nTheir watch around her as she wept:\nA pinnace sinking neath the wave\nWhen mighty winds around her rave:\nA lonely herd-forsaken deer,\nWhen hungry dogs are pressing near.\nWithin the bower the giant passed:\nHer mournful looks were downward cast.\nAs there she lay with streaming eyes\nThe giant bade the lady rise,\nAnd to the shrinking captive showed\nThe glories of his rich abode,\nWhere thousand women spent their days\nIn palaces with gold ablaze;\nWhere wandered birds of every sort,\nAnd jewels flashed in hall and court.\nWhere noble pillars charmed the sight\nWith diamond and lazulite,\nAnd others glorious to behold\nWith ivory, crystal, silver, gold.\nThere swelled on high the tambour\u2019s sound,\nAnd burnished ore was bright around\nHe led the mournful lady where\nResplendent gold adorned the stair,\nAnd showed each lattice fair to see\nWith silver work and ivory:\nShowed his bright chambers, line on line,\nAdorned with nets of golden twine.\nBeyond he showed the Maithil dame\nHis gardens bright as lightning\u2019s flame,\nAnd many a pool and lake he showed\nWhere blooms of gayest colour glowed.\nThrough all his home from view to view\nThe lady sunk in grief he drew.\nThen trusting in her heart to wake\nDesire of all she saw, he spake:\n\u201cThree hundred million giants, all\nObedient to their master\u2019s call,\nNot counting young and weak and old,\nServe me with spirits fierce and bold.\nA thousand culled from all of these\nWait on the lord they long to please.\nThis glorious power, this pomp and sway,\nDear lady, at thy feet I lay:\nYea, with my life I give the whole,\nO dearer than my life and soul.\nA thousand beauties fill my hall:\nBe thou my wife and rule them all.\nO hear my supplication! why\nThis reasonable prayer deny?\nSome pity to thy suitor show,\nFor love\u2019s hot flames within me glow.\nThis isle a hundred leagues in length,\nEncompassed by the ocean\u2019s strength,\nWould all the Gods and fiends defy\nThough led by Him who rules the sky.\nNo God in heaven, no sage on earth,\nNo minstrel of celestial birth,\nNo spirit in the worlds I see\nA match in power and might for me.\nWhat wilt thou do with R\u00e1ma, him\nWhose days are short, whose light is dim,\nExpelled from home and royal sway,\nWho treads on foot his weary way?\nLeave the poor mortal to his fate,\nAnd wed thee with a worthier mate.\nMy timid love, enjoy with me\nThe prime of youth before it flee.\nDo not one hour the hope retain\nTo look on R\u00e1ma\u2019s face again.\nFor whom would wildest thought beguile\nTo seek thee in the giants\u2019 isle?\nSay who is he has power to bind\nIn toils of net the rushing wind.\nWhose is the mighty hand will tame\nAnd hold the glory of the flame?\nIn all the worlds above, below,\nNot one, O fair of form, I know\nWho from this isle in fight could rend\nThe lady whom these arms defend.\nFair Queen, o\u2019er Lank\u00e1\u2019s island reign,\nSole mistress of the wide domain.\nGods, rovers of the night like me,\nAnd all the world thy slaves will be.\nO\u2019er thy fair brows and queenly head\nLet consecrating balm be shed,\nAnd sorrow banished from thy breast,\nEnjoy my love and take thy rest.\nHere never more thy soul shall know\nThe memory of thy former woe,\nAnd here shall thou enjoy the meed\nDeserved by every virtuous deed.\nHere garlands glow of flowery twine,\nWith gorgeous hues and scent divine.\nTake gold and gems and rich attire:\nEnjoy with me thy heart\u2019s desire.\nThere stand, of chariots far the best,\nThe car my brother once possessed.\nWhich, victor in the stricken field,\nI forced the Lord of Gold to yield.\n\u2019Tis wide and high and nobly wrought,\nBright as the sun and swift as thought.\nTherein O S\u00edt\u00e1, shalt thou ride\nDelighted by thy lover\u2019s side.\nBut sorrow mars with lingering trace\nThe splendour of thy lotus face.\nA cloud of woe is o\u2019er it spread,\nAnd all the light of joy is fled.\u201d\n\n  The lady, by her woe distressed,\nOne corner of her raiment pressed\nTo her sad cheek like moonlight clear,\nAnd wiped away a falling tear.\nThe rover of the night renewed\nHis eager pleading as he viewed\nThe lady stand like one distraught,\nStriving to fix her wandering thought:\n\n  \u201cThink not, sweet lady, of the shame\nOf broken vows, nor fear the blame.\nThe saints approve with favouring eyes\nThis union knit with marriage ties.\nO beauty, at thy radiant feet\nI lay my heads, and thus entreat.\nOne word of grace, one look I crave:\nHave pity on thy prostrate slave.\nThese idle words I speak are vain,\nWrung forth by love\u2019s consuming pain,\nAnd ne\u2019er of R\u00e1va\u1e47 be it said\nHe wooed a dame with prostrate head.\u201d\nThus to the Maithil lady sued\nThe monarch of the giant brood,\nAnd \u201cShe is now mine own,\u201d he thought,\nIn Death\u2019s dire coils already caught.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVI. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Disdain.\n\n\nHis words the Maithil lady heard\nOppressed by woe but undeterred.\nFear of the fiend she cast aside,\nAnd thus in noble scorn replied:\n\u201cHis word of honour never stained\nKing Da\u015baratha nobly reigned,\nThe bridge of right, the friend of truth.\nHis eldest son, a noble youth,\nIs R\u00e1ma, virtue\u2019s faithful friend,\nWhose glories through the worlds extend.\nLong arms and large full eyes has he,\nMy husband, yea a God to me.\nWith shoulders like the forest king\u2019s,\nFrom old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line he springs.\nHe with his brother Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s aid\nWill smite thee with the vengeful blade.\nHadst thou but dared before his eyes\nTo lay thine hand upon the prize,\nThou stretched before his feet hadst lain\nIn Janasth\u00e1n like Khara slain.\nThy boasted rovers of the night\nWith hideous shapes and giant might,\u2014\nLike serpents when the feathered king\nSwoops down with his tremendous wing,\u2014\nWill find their useless venom fail\nWhen R\u00e1ma\u2019s mighty arms assail.\nThe rapid arrows bright with gold,\nShot from the bow he loves to hold,\nWill rend thy frame from flank to flank\nAs Gang\u00e1\u2019s waves erode the bank.\nThough neither God nor fiend have power\nTo slay thee in the battle hour,\nYet from his hand shall come thy fate,\nStruck down before his vengeful hate.\nThat mighty lord will strike and end\nThe days of life thou hast to spend.\nThy days are doomed, thy life is sped\nLike victims to the pillar led.\nYea, if the glance of R\u00e1ma bright\nWith fury on thy form should light,\nThou scorched this day wouldst fall and die\nLike K\u00e1ma slain by Rudra\u2019s eye.(506)\nHe who from heaven the moon could throw,\nOr bid its bright rays cease to glow,\u2014\nHe who could drain the mighty sea\nWill set his darling S\u00edt\u00e1 free.\nFled is thy life, thy glory, fled\nThy strength and power: each sense is dead.\nSoon Lank\u00e1 widowed by thy guilt\nWill see the blood of giants spilt.\nThis wicked deed, O cruel King,\nNo triumph, no delight will bring.\nThou with outrageous might and scorn\nA woman from her lord hast torn.\nMy glorious husband far away,\nMaking heroic strength his stay,\nDwells with his brother, void of fear,\nIn Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest lone and drear.\nNo more in force of arms confide:\nThat haughty strength, that power and pride\nMy hero with his arrowy rain\nFrom all thy bleeding limbs will drain.\nWhen urged by fate\u2019s dire mandate, nigh\nComes the fixt hour for men to die.\nCaught in Death\u2019s toils their eyes are blind,\nAnd folly takes each wandering mind.\nSo for the outrage thou hast done\nThe fate is near thou canst not shun,\u2014\nThe fate that on thyself and all\nThy giants and thy town shall fall.\nI spurn thee: can the altar dight\nWith vessels for the sacred rite,\nO\u2019er which the priest his prayer has said,\nBe sullied by an outcaste\u2019s tread?\nSo me, the consort dear and true\nOf him who clings to virtue too,\nThy hated touch shall ne\u2019er defile,\nBase tyrant lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle.\nCan the white swan who floats in pride\nThrough lilies by her consort\u2019s side,\nLook for one moment, as they pass,\nOn the poor diver in the grass?\nThis senseless body waits thy will,\nTo torture, chain, to wound or kill.\nI will not, King of giants, strive\nTo keep this fleeting soul alive\nBut never shall they join the name\nOf S\u00edt\u00e1 with reproach and shame.\u201d\n\n  Thus as her breast with fury burned\nHer bitter speech the dame returned.\nSuch words of rage and scorn, the last\nShe uttered, at the fiend she cast.\nHer taunting speech the giant heard,\nAnd every hair with anger stirred.\nThen thus with fury in his eye\nHe made in threats his fierce reply:\n\u201cHear Maithil lady, hear my speech:\nList to my words and ponder each.\nIf o\u2019er thy head twelve months shall fly\nAnd thou thy love wilt still deny,\nMy cooks shall mince thy flesh with steel\nAnd serve it for my morning meal.\u201d\n\n  Thus with terrific threats to her\nSpake R\u00e1va\u1e47, cruel ravener.\nMad with the rage her answer woke\nHe called the fiendish train and spoke:\n\u201cTake her, ye R\u00e1kshas dames, who fright\nWith hideous form and mien the sight,\nWho make the flesh of men your food,\u2014\nAnd let her pride be soon subdued.\u201d\nHe spoke, and at his word the band\nOf fiendish monsters raised each hand\nIn reverence to the giant king,\nAnd pressed round S\u00edt\u00e1 in a ring.\nR\u00e1va\u1e47 once more with stern behest\nTo those she-fiends his speech addressed:\nShaking the earth beneath his tread,\nHe stamped his furious foot and said:\n\u201cTo the A\u015boka garden bear\nThe dame, and guard her safely there\nUntil her stubborn pride be bent\nBy mingled threat and blandishment.\nSee that ye watch her well, and tame,\nLike some she-elephant, the dame.\u201d\n\n  They led her to that garden where\nThe sweetest flowers perfumed the air,\nWhere bright trees bore each rarest fruit,\nAnd birds, enamoured, ne\u2019er were mute.\nBowed down with terror and distress,\nWatched by each cruel giantess,\u2014\nLike a poor solitary deer\nWhen ravening tigresses are near,\u2014\nThe hapless lady lay distraught\nLike some wild thing but newly caught,\nAnd found no solace, no relief\nFrom agonizing fear and grief;\nNot for one moment could forget\nEach terrifying word and threat,\nOr the fierce eyes upon her set\n  By those who watched around.\nShe thought of R\u00e1ma far away,\nShe mourned for Lakshma\u1e47 as she lay\nIn grief and terror and dismay\n  Half fainting on the ground.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVII. S\u00edt\u00e1 Comforted.\n\n\nSoon as the fiend had set her down\nWithin his home in Lank\u00e1\u2019s town\nTriumph and joy filled Indra\u2019s breast,\nWhom thus the Eternal Sire addressed:\n\n  \u201cThis deed will free the worlds from woe\nAnd cause the giants\u2019 overthrow.\nThe fiend has borne to Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle\nThe lady of the lovely smile,\nTrue consort born to happy fate\nWith features fair and delicate.\nShe looks and longs for R\u00e1ma\u2019s face,\nBut sees a crowd of demon race,\nAnd guarded by the giant\u2019s train\nPines for her lord and weeps in vain.\nBut Lank\u00e1 founded on a steep\nIs girdled by the mighty deep,\nAnd how will R\u00e1ma know his fair\nAnd blameless wife is prisoned there?\nShe on her woe will sadly brood\nAnd pine away in solitude,\nAnd heedless of herself, will cease\nTo live, despairing of release.\nYes, pondering on her fate, I see\nHer gentle life in jeopardy.\nGo, Indra, swiftly seek the place,\nAnd look upon her lovely face.\nWithin the city make thy way:\nLet heavenly food her spirit stay.\u201d\n\n  Thus Brahma spake: and He who slew\nThe cruel demon P\u00e1ka, flew\nWhere Lank\u00e1\u2019s royal city lay,\nAnd Sleep went with him on his way.\n\u201cSleep,\u201d cried the heavenly Monarch, \u201cclose\nEach giant\u2019s eye in deep repose.\u201d\n\n  Thus Indra spoke, and Sleep fulfilled\nWith joy his mandate, as he willed,\nTo aid the plan the Gods proposed,\nThe demons\u2019 eyes in sleep she closed.\nThen \u015aach\u00ed\u2019s lord, the Thousand-eyed,\nTo the A\u015boka garden hied.\nHe came and stood where S\u00edt\u00e1 lay,\nAnd gently thus began to say:\n\u201cLord of the Gods who hold the sky,\nDame of the lovely smile, am I.\nWeep no more, lady, weep no more;\nThy days of woe will soon be o\u2019er.\nI come, O Janak\u2019s child, to be\nThe helper of thy lord and thee.\nHe through my grace, with hosts to aid,\nThis sea-girt land will soon invade.\n\u2019Tis by my art that slumbers close\nThe eyelids of thy giant foes.\nNow I, with Sleep, this place have sought,\nVidehan lady, and have brought\nA gift of heaven\u2019s ambrosial food\nTo stay thee in thy solitude.\nReceive it from my hand, and taste,\nO lady of the dainty waist:\nFor countless ages thou shall be\nFrom pangs of thirst and hunger free.\u201d\n\n  But doubt within her bosom woke\nAs to the Lord of Gods she spoke:\n\u201cHow may I know for truth that thou\nWhose form I see before me now\nArt verily the King adored\nBy heavenly Gods, and \u015aach\u00ed\u2019s lord?\nWith Raghu\u2019s sons I learnt to know\nThe certain signs which Godhead show.\nThese marks before mine eyes display\nIf o\u2019er the Gods thou bear the sway.\u201d\n\n  The heavenly lord of \u015aach\u00ed heard,\nAnd did according to her word.\nAbove the ground his feet were raised;\nWith eyelids motionless he gazed.\nNo dust upon his raiment lay,\nAnd his bright wreath was fresh and gay.\nNor was the lady\u2019s glad heart slow\nThe Monarch of the Gods to know,\nAnd while the tears unceasing ran\nFrom her sweet eyes she thus began:\n\u201cMy lord has gained a friend in thee,\nAnd I this day thy presence see\nShown clearly to mine eyes, as when\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47, lords of men,\nBeheld it, and their sire the king,\nAnd Janak too from whom I spring.\nNow I, O Monarch of the Blest,\nWill eat this food at thy behest,\nWhich thou hast brought me, of thy grace,\nTo aid and strengthen Raghu\u2019s race.\u201d\n\n  She spoke, and by his words relieved,\nThe food from Indra\u2019s hand received,\nYet ere she ate the balm he brought,\nOn Lakshma\u1e47 and her lord she thought.\n\u201cIf my brave lord be still alive,\nIf valiant Lakshma\u1e47 yet survive,\nMay this my taste of heavenly food\nBring health to them and bliss renewed!\u201d\n    She ate, and that celestial food\n  Stayed hunger, thirst, and lassitude,\n    And all her strength restored.\n  Great joy her hopeful spirit stirred\n  At the glad tidings newly heard\n    Of Lakshma\u1e47 and her lord.\n  And Indra\u2019s heart was joyful too:\n  He bade the Maithil dame adieu,\n    His saving errand done.\n  With Sleep beside him parting thence\n  He sought his heavenly residence\n    To prosper Raghu\u2019s son.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVIII. The Brothers\u2019 Meeting.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma\u2019s deadly shaft had struck\nThe giant in the seeming buck,\nThe chieftain turned him from the place\nHis homeward way again to trace.\nThen as he hastened onward, fain\nTo look upon his spouse again,\nBehind him from a thicket nigh\nRang out a jackal\u2019s piercing cry.\nAlarmed he heard the startling shriek\nThat raised his hair and dimmed his cheek,\nAnd all his heart was filled with doubt\nAs the shrill jackal\u2019s cry rang out:\n\u201cAlas, some dire disaster seems\nPortended by the jackal\u2019s screams.\nO may the Maithil dame be screened\nFrom outrage of each hungry fiend!\nAlas, if Lakshma\u1e47 chanced to hear\nThat bitter cry of woe and fear\nWhat time M\u00e1r\u00edcha, as he died,\nWith voice that mocked my accents cried,\nSwift to my side the prince would flee\nAnd quit the dame to succour me.\nToo well I see the demon band\nThe slaughter of my love have planned.\nMe far from home and S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s view\nThe seeming deer M\u00e1r\u00edcha drew.\nHe led me far through brake and dell\nTill wounded by my shaft he fell,\nAnd as he sank rang out his cry,\n\u201cO save me, Lakshma\u1e47, or I die.\u201d\nMay it be well with both who stayed\nIn the great wood with none to aid,\nFor every fiend is now my foe\nFor Janasth\u00e1n\u2019s great overthrow,\nAnd many an omen seen to-day\nHas filled my heart with sore dismay.\u201d\n\n  Such were the thoughts and sad surmise\nOf R\u00e1ma at the jackal\u2019s cries,\nAnd all his heart within him burned\nAs to his cot his steps he turned.\nHe pondered on the deer that led\nHis feet to follow where it fled,\nAnd sad with many a bitter thought\nHis home in Janasth\u00e1n he sought.\nHis soul was dark with woe and fear\nWhen flocks of birds and troops of deer\nMove round him from the left, and raised\nDiscordant voices as they gazed.\nThe omens which the chieftain viewed\nThe terror of his soul renewed,\nWhen lo, to meet him Lakshma\u1e47 sped\nWith brows whence all the light had fled.\nNear and more near the princes came,\nEach brother\u2019s heart and look the same;\nAlike on each sad visage lay\nThe signs of misery and dismay,\nThen R\u00e1ma by his terror moved\nHis brother for his fault reproved\nIn leaving S\u00edt\u00e1 far from aid\nIn the wild wood where giants strayed.\nLakshma\u1e47\u2019s left hand he took, and then\nIn gentle tones the prince of men,\nThough sharp and fierce their tenour ran,\nThus to his brother chief began:\n\n  \u201cO Lakshma\u1e47, thou art much to blame\nLeaving alone the Maithil dame,\nAnd flying hither to my side:\nO, may no ill my spouse betide!\nBut ah, I know my wife is dead,\nAnd giants on her limbs have fed,\nSo strange, so terrible are all\nThe omens which my heart appal.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, may we yet return\nThe safety of my love to learn.\nTo find the child of Janak still\nAlive and free from scathe and ill!\nEach bird with notes of warning screams,\nThough the hot sun still darts his beams.\nThe moan of deer, the jackal\u2019s yell\nOf some o\u2019erwhelming misery tell.\nO mighty brother, still may she,\nMy princess, live from danger free!\n  That semblance of a golden deer\n    Allured me far away,\n  I followed nearer and more near,\n    And longed to take the prey.\n  I followed where the quarry fled:\n    My deadly arrow flew,\n  And as the dying creature bled,\n    The giant met my view.\n  Great fear and pain oppress my heart\n    That dreads the coming blow,\n  And through my left eye keenly dart\n    The throbs that herald woe.\n  Ah Lakshma\u1e47, all these signs dismay,\n    My soul that sinks with dread,\n  I know my love is torn away,\n    Or, haply, she is dead.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIX. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Return.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw his brother stand\nWith none beside him, all unmanned,\nEager he questioned why he came\nSo far without the Maithil dame:\n\u201cWhere is my wife, my darling, she\nWho to the wild wood followed me?\nWhere hast thou left my lady, where\nThe dame who chose my lot to share?\nWhere is my love who balms my woe\nAs through the forest wilds I go,\nUnkinged and banished and disgraced,\u2014\nMy darling of the dainty waist?\nShe nerves my spirit for the strife,\nShe, only she gives zest to life,\nDear as my breath is she who vies\nIn charms with daughters of the skies.\nIf Janak\u2019s child be mine no more,\nIn splendour fair as virgin ore,\nThe lordship of the skies and earth\nTo me were prize of little worth.\nAh, lives she yet, the Maithil dame,\nDear as the soul within this frame?\nO, let not all my toil be vain,\nThe banishment, the woe and pain!\nO, let not dark Kaikey\u00ed win\nThe guerdon of her treacherous sin,\nIf, S\u00edt\u00e1 lost, my days I end,\nAnd thou without me homeward wend!\nO, let not good Kau\u015baly\u00e1 shed\nHer bitter tears to mourn me dead,\nNor her proud rival\u2019s hest obey,\nStrong in her son and queenly sway!\nBack to my cot will I repair\nIf S\u00edt\u00e1 live to greet me there,\nBut if my wife have perished, I\nReft of my love will surely die.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, if I seek my cot,\nLook for my love and find her not\nSweet welcome with her smile to give,\nI tell thee, I will cease to live.\nO answer,\u2014let thy words be plain,\u2014\nLives S\u00edt\u00e1 yet, or is she slain?\nDidst thou thy sacred trust betray\nTill ravening giants seized the prey?\nAh me, so young, so soft and fair,\nLapped in all bliss, untried by care,\nRent from her own dear husband, how\nWill she support her misery now?\nThat voice, O Lakshma\u1e47 smote thine ear,\nAnd filled, I ween, thy heart with fear,\nWhen on thy name for succour cried\nThe treacherous giant ere he died.\nThat voice too like mine own, I ween,\nWas heard by the Videhan queen.\nShe bade thee seek my side to aid,\nAnd quickly was the hest obeyed,\nBut ah, thy fault I needs must blame,\nTo leave alone the helpless dame,\nAnd let the cruel giants sate\nThe fury of their murderous hate.\nThose blood-devouring demons all\nGrieve in their souls for Khara\u2019s fall,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1, none to guard her side,\nTorn by their cruel hands has died.\nI sink, O tamer of thy foes,\nDeep in the sea of whelming woes.\nWhat can I now? I must endure\nThe mighty grief that mocks at cure.\u201d\n\n  Thus, all his thoughts on S\u00edt\u00e1 bent,\nTo Janasth\u00e1n the chieftain went,\nHastening on with eager stride,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 hurried by his side.\nWith toil and thirst and hunger worn,\nHis breast with doubt and anguish torn,\n  He sought the well-known spot.\nAgain, again he turned to chide\nWith quivering lips which terror dried:\n  He looked, and found her not.\nWithin his leafy home he sped,\nEach pleasant spot he visited\n  Where oft his darling strayed.\n\u201c\u2019Tis as I feared,\u201d he cried, and there,\nYielding to pangs too great to bear,\n  He sank by grief dismayed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LX. Lakshman Reproved.\n\n\nBut R\u00e1ma ceased not to upbraid,\nHis brother for untimely aid,\nAnd thus, while anguish wrung his breast,\nThe chief with eager question pressed:\n\u201cWhy, Lakshma\u1e47, didst thou hurry hence\nAnd leave my wife without defence?\nI left her in the wood with thee,\nAnd deemed her safe from jeopardy.\nWhen first thy form appeared in view,\nI marked that S\u00edt\u00e1 came not too.\nWith woe my troubled soul was rent,\nProphetic of the dire event.\nThy coming steps afar I spied,\nI saw no S\u00edt\u00e1 by thy side,\nAnd felt a sudden throbbing dart\nThrough my left eye, and arm, and heart.\u201d\n\n  Lakshma\u1e47, with Fortune\u2019s marks impressed,\nHis brother mournfully addressed:\n\u201cNot by my heart\u2019s free impulse led,\nLeaving thy wife to thee I sped;\nBut by her keen reproaches sent,\nO R\u00e1ma, to thine aid I went.\nShe heard afar a mournful cry,\n\u201cO save me, Lakshma\u1e47, or I die.\u201d\nThe voice that spoke in moving tone\nSmote on her ear and seemed thine own.\nSoon as those accents reached her ear\nShe yielded to her woe and fear,\nShe wept o\u2019ercome by grief, and cried,\n\u201cFly, Lakshma\u1e47, fly to R\u00e1ma\u2019s side.\u201d\nThough many a time she bade me speed,\nHer urgent prayer I would not heed.\nI bade her in thy strength confide,\nAnd thus with tender words replied:\n\u201cNo giant roams the forest shade\nFrom whom thy lord need shrink dismayed.\nNo human voice, believe me, spoke\nThose words thy causeless fear that woke.\nCan he whose might can save in woe\nThe heavenly Gods e\u2019er stoop so low,\nAnd with those piteous accents call\nFor succour like a caitiff thrall?\nAnd why should wandering giants choose\nThe accents of thy lord to use,\nIn alien tones my help to crave,\nAnd cry aloud, O Lakshma\u1e47, save?\nNow let my words thy spirit cheer,\nCompose thy thoughts and banish fear.\nIn hell, in earth, or in the skies\nThere is not, and there cannot rise\nA champion whose strong arm can slay\nThy R\u00e1ma in the battle fray.\nTo heavenly hosts he ne\u2019er would yield\nThough Indra led them to the field.\u201d\nTo soothe her thus I vainly sought:\nHer heart with woe was still distraught.\nWhile from her eyes the waters ran\nHer bitter speech she thus began:\n\u201cToo well I see thy dark intent:\nThy lawless thoughts on me are bent.\nThou hopest, but thy hope is vain,\nTo win my love, thy brother slain.\nNot love, but Bharat\u2019s dark decree\nTo share his exile counselled thee,\nOr hearing now his bitter cry\nThou surely to his aid wouldst fly.\nFor love of me, a stealthy foe\nThou choosest by his side to go,\nAnd now thou longest that my lord\nShould die, and wilt no help afford.\u201d\n\n  Such were the words the lady said:\nWith angry fire my eyes were red.\nWith pale lips quivering in my rage\nI hastened from the hermitage.\u201d\nHe ceased; and frenzied by his pain\nThe son of Raghu spoke again:\n\u201cO brother, for thy fault I grieve,\nThe Maithil dame alone to leave.\nThou knowest that my arm is strong\nTo save me from the giant throng,\nAnd yet couldst leave the cottage, spurred\nTo folly by her angry word.\nFor this thy deed I praise thee not,\u2014\nTo leave her helpless in the cot,\nAnd thus thy sacred charge forsake\nFor the wild words a woman spake.\nYea thou art all to blame herein,\nAnd very grievous is thy sin.\nThat anger swayed thy faithless breast\nAnd made thee false to my behest.\nAn arrow speeding from my bow\nHas laid the treacherous giant low,\nWho lured me eager for the chase\nFar from my hermit dwelling-place.\nThe string with easy hand I drew,\nThe arrow as in pastime flew,\n  The wounded quarry bled.\nThe borrowed form was cast away,\nBefore mine eye a giant lay\n  With bright gold braceleted.\nMy arrow smote him in the chest:\nThe giant by the pain distressed\n  Raised his loud voice on high.\nFar rang the mournful sound: mine own,\nIt seemed, were accent, voice, and tone,\nThey made thee leave my spouse alone\n  And to my rescue fly.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nAs R\u00e1ma sought his leafy cot\nThrough his left eye keen throbbings shot,\nHis wonted strength his frame forsook,\nAnd all his body reeled and shook.\nStill on those dreadful signs he thought,\u2014\nSad omens with disaster fraught,\nAnd from his troubled heart he cried,\n\u201cO, may no ill my spouse betide!\u201d\nLonging to gaze on S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s face\nHe hastened to his dwelling-place,\nThen sinking neath his misery\u2019s weight,\nHe looked and found it desolate.\nTossing his mighty arms on high\nHe sought her with an eager cry,\nFrom spot to spot he wildly ran\nEach corner of his home to scan.\nHe looked, but S\u00edt\u00e1 was not there;\nHis cot was disolate and bare,\nLike streamlet in the winter frost,\nThe glory of her lilies lost.\nWith leafy tears the sad trees wept\nAs a wild wind their branches swept.\nMourned bird and deer, and every flower\nDrooped fainting round the lonely bower.\nThe silvan deities had fled\nThe spot where all the light was dead,\nWhere hermit coats of skin displayed,\nAnd piles of sacred grass were laid.\nHe saw, and maddened by his pain\nCried in lament again, again:\n\u201cWhere is she, dead or torn away,\nLost, or some hungry giant\u2019s prey?\nOr did my darling chance to rove\nFor fruit and blossoms though the grove?\nOr has she sought the pool or rill,\nHer pitcher from the wave to fill?\u201d\nHis eager eyes on fire with pain\nHe roamed about with maddened brain.\nEach grove and glade he searched with care,\nHe sought, but found no S\u00edt\u00e1 there.\nHe wildly rushed from hill to hill;\nFrom tree to tree, from rill to rill,\nAs bitter woe his bosom rent\nStill R\u00e1ma roamed with fond lament:\n\u201cO sweet Kadamba say has she\nWho loved thy bloom been seen by thee?\nIf thou have seen her face most fair,\nSay, gentle tree, I pray thee, where.\nO Bel tree with thy golden fruit\nRound as her breast, no more be mute,\nWhere is my radiant darling, gay\nIn silk that mocks thy glossy spray?\nO Arjun, say, where is she now\nWho loved to touch thy scented bough?\nDo not thy graceful friend forget,\nBut tell me, is she living yet?\nSpeak, Basil, thou must surely know,\nFor like her limbs thy branches show,\u2014\nMost lovely in thy fair array\nOf twining plant and tender spray.\nSweet Tila, fairest of the trees,\nMelodious with the hum of bees,\nWhere is my darling S\u00edt\u00e1, tell,\u2014\nThe dame who loved thy flowers so well?\nA\u015boka, act thy gentle part,\u2014\nNamed Heartsease,(507) give me what thou art,\nTo these sad eyes my darling show\nAnd free me from this load of woe.\nO Palm, in rich ripe fruitage dressed\nRound as the beauties of her breast,\nIf thou have heart to know and feel,\nMy peerless consort\u2019s fate reveal.\nHast thou, Rose-apple, chanced to view\nMy darling bright with golden hue?\nIf thou have seen her quickly speak,\nWhere is the dame I wildly seek?\nO glorious Cassia, thou art gay\nWith all thy loveliest bloom to-day,\nWhere is my dear who loved to hold\nIn her full lap thy flowery gold?\u201d\nTo many a tree and plant beside,\nTo Jasmin, Mango, S\u00e1l, he cried.\n\u201cSay, hast thou seen, O gentle deer,\nThe fawn-eyed S\u00edt\u00e1 wandering here?\nIt may be that my love has strayed\nTo sport with fawns beneath the shade,\nIf thou, great elephant, have seen\nMy darling of the lovely mien,\nWhose rounded limbs are soft and fine\nAs is that lissome trunk of thine,\nO noblest of wild creatures, show\nWhere is the dame thou needs must know.\nO tiger, hast thou chanced to see\nMy darling? very fair is she,\nCast all thy fear away, declare,\nWhere is my moon-faced darling, where?\nThere, darling of the lotus eye,\nI see thee, and \u2019tis vain to fly,\nWilt thou not speak, dear love? I see\nThy form half hidden by the tree.\nStay if thou love me, S\u00edt\u00e1, stay\nIn pity cease thy heartless play.\nWhy mock me now? thy gentle breast\nWas never prone to cruel jest.\n\u2019Tis vain behind yon bush to steal:\nThy shimmering silks thy path reveal.\nFly not, mine eyes pursue thy way;\nFor pity\u2019s sake, dear S\u00edt\u00e1, stay.\nAh me, ah me, my words are vain;\nMy gentle love is lost or slain.\nHow could her tender bosom spurn\nHer husband on his home-return?\nAh no, my love is surely dead,\nFierce giants on her flesh have fed,\nRending the soft limbs of their prey\nWhen I her lord was far away.\nThat moon-bright face, that polished brow,\nRed lips, bright teeth\u2014what are they now?\nAlas, my darling\u2019s shapely neck\nShe loved with chains of gold to deck,\u2014\nThat neck that mocked the sandal scent,\nThe ruthless fiends have grasped and rent.\nAlas, \u2019twas vain those arms to raise\nSoft as the young tree\u2019s tender sprays.\nAh, dainty meal for giants\u2019 lips\nWere arms and quivering finger tips.\nAh, she who counted many a friend\nWas left for fiends to seize and rend,\nWas left by me without defence\nFrom ravening giants\u2019 violence.\nO Lakshma\u1e47 of the arm of might,\nSay, is my darling love in sight?\nO dearest S\u00edt\u00e1. where art thou?\nWhere is my darling consort now?\u201d\n\n  Thus as he cried in wild lament\nFrom grove to grove the mourner went,\nHere for a moment sank to rest,\nThen started up and onward pressed.\nThus roaming on like one distraught\nStill for his vanished love he sought,\nHe searched in wood and hill and glade,\nBy rock and brook and wild cascade.\nThrough groves with restless step he sped\nAnd left no spot unvisited.\nThrough lawns and woods of vast extent\nStill searching for his love he went\n  With eager steps and fast.\nFor many a weary hour he toiled,\nStill in his fond endeavour foiled,\n  Yet hoping to the last.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nWhen all the toil and search was vain\nHe sought his leafy home again.\n\u2019Twas empty still: all scattered lay\nThe seats of grass in disarray.\nHe raised his shapely arms on high\nAnd spoke aloud with bitter cry:\n\u201cWhere is the Maithil dame?\u201d he said,\n\u201cO, whither has my darling fled?\nWho can have borne away my dame,\nOr feasted on her tender frame?\nIf, S\u00edt\u00e1 hidden by some tree,\nThou joyest still to mock at me,\nCease, cease thy cruel sport, and take\nCompassion, or my heart will break.\nBethink thee, love, the gentle fawns\nWith whom thou playest on the lawns,\nImpatient for thy coming wait\nWith streaming eyes disconsolate.\nReft of my love, I needs must go\nHence to the shades weighed down by woe.\nThe king our sire will see me there,\nAnd cry, \u201cO perjured R\u00e1ma, where,\nWhere is thy faith, that thou canst speed\nFrom exile ere the time decreed?\u201d\n\n  Ah S\u00edt\u00e1, whither hast thou fled\nAnd left me here disquieted,\nA hapless mourner, reft of hope,\nToo feeble with my woe to cope?\nE\u2019en thus indignant Glory flies\nThe wretch who stains his soul with lies.\nIf thou, my love, art lost to view,\nI in my woe must perish too.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma by his grief distraught\nWept for the wife he vainly sought,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 whose fraternal breast\nLonged for his weal, the chief addressed\nWhose soul gave way beneath the pain\nWhen all his eager search was vain,\nLike some great elephant who stands\nSinking upon the treacherous sands:\n\u201cNot yet, O wisest chief, despair;\nRenew thy toil with utmost care.\nThis noble hill where trees are green\nHas many a cave and dark ravine.\nThe Maithil lady day by day\nDelighted in the woods to stray,\nDeep in the grove she wanders still,\nOr walks by blossom-covered rill,\nOr fish-loved river stealing through\nTall clusters of the dark bamboo.\nOr else the dame with arch design\nTo prove thy mood, O Prince, and mine,\nFar in some sheltering thicket lies\nTo frighten ere she meet our eyes.\nThen come, renew thy labour, trace\nThe lady to her lurking-place,\nAnd search the wood from side to side\nTo know where S\u00edt\u00e1 loves to bide.\nCollect thy thoughts, O royal chief,\nNor yield to unavailing grief.\u201d\n\n  Thus Lakshma\u1e47, by attention stirred,\nTo fresh attempts his brother spurred,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, as he ceased, began\nWith Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s aid each spot to scan.\nIn eager search their way they took\nThrough wood, o\u2019er hill, by pool and brook,\nThey roamed each mount, nor spared to seek\nOn ridge and crag and towering peak.\nThey sought the dame in every spot;\nBut all in vain; they found her not.\nAbove, below, on every side\nThey ranged the hill, and R\u00e1ma cried,\n\u201cO Lakshma\u1e47, O my brother still\nNo trace of S\u00edt\u00e1 on the hill!\u201d\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 as he roamed the wood\nBeside his glorious brother stood,\nAnd while fierce grief his bosom burned\nThis answer to the chief returned:\n\u201cThou, R\u00e1ma, after toil and pain\nWilt meet the Maithil dame again,\nAs Vish\u1e47u, Bali\u2019s might subdued,\nHis empire of the earth renewed.\u201d(508)\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma cried in mournful tone,\nHis spirit by his woe o\u2019erthrown;\n\u201cThe wood is searched from side to side,\nNo distant spot remains untried,\nNo lilied pool, no streamlet where\nThe lotus buds are fresh and fair.\nOur eyes have searched the hill with all\nHis caves and every waterfall,\u2014\nBut ah, not yet I find my wife,\nMore precious than the breath of life.\u201d\n\n  As thus he mourned his vanished dame\nA mighty trembling seized his frame,\nAnd by o\u2019erpowering grief assailed,\nHis troubled senses reeled and failed.\nToo great to bear his misery grew,\nAnd many a long hot sigh he drew,\nThen as he wept and sobbed and sighed,\n\u201cO S\u00edt\u00e1, O my love!\u201d he cried.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47, joining palm to palm,\nTried every art his woe to calm.\nBut R\u00e1ma in his anguish heard\nOr heeded not one soothing word,\nStill for his spouse he mourned, and shrill\nRang out his lamentation still.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nThus for his wife in vain he sought:\nThen, his sad soul with pain distraught,\nThe hero of the lotus eyes\nFilled all the air with frantic cries.\nO\u2019erpowered by love\u2019s strong influence, he\nHis absent wife still seemed to see,\nAnd thus with accents weak and faint\nRenewed with tears his wild complaint:\n\n  \u201cThou, fairer than their bloom, my spouse,\nArt hidden by A\u015boka boughs.\nThose blooms have power to banish care,\nBut now they drive me to despair.\nThine arms are like the plantain\u2019s stem:\nWhy let the plantain cover them?\nThou art not hidden, love; thy feet\nBetray thee in thy dark retreat.\nThou runnest in thy girlish sport\nTo flowery trees, thy dear resort.\nBut cease, O cease, my love, I pray,\nTo vex me with thy cruel play.\nSuch mockery in a holy spot\nWhere hermits dwell beseems thee not.\nAh, now I see thy fickle mind\nTo scornful mood too much inclined,\nCome, large-eyed beauty, I implore;\nLone is the cot so dear before.\n\n  No, she is slain by giants; they\nHave stolen or devoured their prey,\nOr surely at my mournful cry\nMy darling to her lord would fly.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, see those troops of deer:\nIn each sad eye there gleams a tear.\nThose looks of woe too clearly say\nMy consort is the giants\u2019 prey.\nO noblest, fairest of the fair,\nWhere art thou, best of women, where?\nThis day will dark Kaikey\u00ed find\nFresh triumph for her evil mind,\nWhen I, who with my S\u00edt\u00e1 came\nReturn alone, without my dame.\nBut ne\u2019er can I return to see\nThose chambers where my queen should be\nAnd hear the scornful people speak\nOf R\u00e1ma as a coward weak.\nFor mine will be the coward\u2019s shame\nWho let the foeman steal his dame.\nHow can I seek my home, or brook\nUpon Videha\u2019s king to look?\nHow listen, when he bids me tell,\nMy wanderings o\u2019er, that all is well?\nHe, when I meet his eager view,\nWill mark that S\u00edt\u00e1 comes not too,\nAnd when he hears the mournful tale\nHis wildered sense will reel and fail.\n\u201cO Da\u015baratha\u201d will he cry,\n\u201cBlest in thy mansion in the sky!\u201d\nNe\u2019er to that town my steps shall bend,\nThat town which Bharat\u2019s arms defend,\nFor e\u2019en the blessed homes above\nWould seem a waste without my love.\nLeave me, my brother, here, I pray;\nTo fair Ayodhy\u00e1 bend thy way.\nWithout my love I cannot bear\nTo live one hour in blank despair.\nRound Bharat\u2019s neck thy fond arms twine,\nAnd greet him with these words of mine:\n\u201cDear brother, still the power retain,\nAnd o\u2019er the land as monarch reign.\u201d\nWith salutation next incline\nBefore thy mother, his, and mine.\nStill, brother, to my words attend,\nAnd with all care each dame befriend.\nTo my dear mother\u2019s ear relate\nMy mournful tale and S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s fate.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma gave his sorrow vent,\nAnd from a heart which anguish rent,\nMourned for his wife in loud lament,\u2014\n  Her of the glorious hair,\nFrom Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s cheek the colour fled,\nAnd o\u2019er his heart came sudden dread,\nSick, faint, and sore disquieted\n  By woe too great to bear.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIV. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nReft of his love, the royal chief,\nWeighed down beneath his whelming grief,\nDesponding made his brother share\nHis grievous burden of despair.\nOver his sinking bosom rolled\nThe flood of sorrow uncontrolled.\n\n  And as he wept and sighed,\nIn mournful accents faint and slow\nWith words congenial to his woe,\n\n  To Lakshma\u1e47 thus he cried:\n\u201cBrother, I ween, beneath the sun,\nOf all mankind there lives not one\nSo full of sin, whose hand has done\n  Such cursed deeds as mine.\nFor my sad heart with misery bleeds,\nAs, guerdon of those evil deeds,\nStill greater woe to woe succeeds\n  In never-ending line.\nA life of sin I freely chose,\nAnd from my past transgression flows\nA ceaseless flood of bitter woes\n  My folly to repay.\nThe fruit of sin has ripened fast,\nThrough many a sorrow have I passed,\nAnd now the crowning grief at last\n  Falls on my head to-day.\nFrom all my faithful friends I fled,\nMy sire is numbered with the dead,\nMy royal rank is forfeited,\n  My mother far away.\nThese woes on which I sadly think\nFill, till it raves above the brink,\nThe stream of grief in which I sink,\u2014\n  The flood which naught can stay.\nNe\u2019er, brother, ne\u2019er have I complained;\nThough long by toil and trouble pained,\nWithout a murmur I sustained\n  The woes of woodland life.\nBut fiercer than the flames that rise\nWhen crackling wood the food supplies,\u2014\nFlashing a glow through evening skies,\u2014\n  This sorrow for my wife.\nSome cruel fiend has seized the prey\nAnd torn my trembling love away,\nWhile, as he bore her through the skies,\nShe shrieked aloud with frantic cries,\nIn tones of fear which, wild and shrill,\nRetained their native sweetness still.\nAh me, that breast so soft and sweet,\nFor sandal\u2019s precious perfume meet,\nNow all detained with dust and gore,\nShall meet my fond caress no more.\nThat face, whose lips with tones so clear\nMade pleasant music, sweet to hear,\u2014\nWith soft locks plaited o\u2019er the brow,\u2014\nSome giant\u2019s hand is on it now.\nIt smiles not, as the dear light fails\nWhen R\u00e1hu\u2019s jaw the moon assails.\nAh, my true love! that shapely neck\nShe loved with fairest chains to deck,\nThe cruel demons rend, and drain\nThe lifeblood from each mangled vein.\nAh, when the savage monsters came\nAnd dragged away the helpless dame,\nThe lady of the long soft eye\nCalled like a lamb with piteous cry.\nBeneath this rock, O Lakshma\u1e47, see,\nMy peerless consort sat with me,\nAnd gently talked to thee the while,\nHer sweet lips opening with a smile.\nHere is that fairest stream which she\nLoved ever, bright God\u00e1var\u00ed.\nNe\u2019er can the dame have passed this way:\nSo far alone she would not stray,\nNor has my darling, lotus-eyed,\nSought lilies by the river\u2019s side,\nFor without me she ne\u2019er would go\nTo streamlets where the wild flowers grow,\nTell me not, brother, she has strayed\nTo the dark forest\u2019s distant shade\nWhere blooming boughs are gay and sweet,\nAnd bright birds love the cool retreat.\nAlone my love would never dare,\u2014\nMy timid love,\u2014to wander there.\n\n  O Lord of Day whose eye sees all\nWe act and plan, on thee I call:\nFor naught is hidden from thy sight,\u2014\nGreat witness thou of wrong and right.\nWhere is she, lost or torn away?\nDispel my torturing doubt and say.\nAnd O thou Wind who blowest free,\nThe worlds have naught concealed from thee.\nList to my prayer, reveal one trace\nOf her, the glory of her race.\nSay, is she stolen hence, or dead,\nOr do her feet the forest tread?\u201d\n\n  Thus with disordered senses, faint\nWith woe he poured his sad complaint,\nAnd then, a better way to teach,\nWise Lakshma\u1e47 spoke in seemly speech:\n\u201cUp, brother dear, thy grief subdue,\nWith heart and soul thy search renew.\nWhen woes oppress and dangers threat\nBrave effort ne\u2019er was fruitless yet.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, but R\u00e1ma gave no heed\nTo valiant Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s prudent rede.\nWith double force the flood of pain\nRushed o\u2019er his yielding soul again.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXV. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Wrath.\n\n\nWith piteous voice, by woe subdued,\nThus Raghu\u2019s son his speech renewed:\n\n  \u201cThy steps, my brother, quickly turn\nTo bright God\u00e1var\u00ed and learn\nIf S\u00edt\u00e1 to the stream have hied\nTo cull the lilies on its side.\u201d\n\n  Obedient to the words he said,\nHis brother to the river sped.\nThe shelving banks he searched in vain,\nAnd then to R\u00e1ma turned again.\n\n  \u201cI searched, but found her not,\u201d he cried;\n\u201cI called aloud, but none replied.\nWhere can the Maithil lady stray,\nWhose sight would chase our cares away?\nI know not where, her steps untraced,\nRoams S\u00edt\u00e1 of the dainty waist.\u201d\n\n  When R\u00e1ma heard the words he spoke\nAgain he sank beneath the stroke,\nAnd with a bosom anguish-fraught\nHimself the lovely river sought.\nThere standing on the shelving side,\n\u201cO S\u00edt\u00e1, where art thou?\u201d he cried.\nNo spirit voice an answer gave,\nNo murmur from the trembling wave\nOf sweet God\u00e1var\u00ed declared\nThe outrage which the fiend had dared.\n\u201cO speak!\u201d the pitying spirits cried,\nBut yet the stream their prayer denied,\nNor dared she, coldly mute, relate\nTo the sad chief his darling\u2019s fate\nOf R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s awful form she thought,\nAnd the dire deed his arm had wrought,\nAnd still withheld by fear dismayed,\nThe tale for which the mourner prayed.\nWhen hope was none, his heart to cheer,\nThat the bright stream his cry would hear\nWhile sorrow for his darling tore\nHis longing soul he spake once more:\n\u201cThough I have sought with tears and sighs\nGod\u00e1rvar\u00ed no word replies,\nO say, what answer can I frame\nTo Janak, father of my dame?\nOr how before her mother stand\nLeading no S\u00edt\u00e1 by the hand?\nWhere is my loyal love who went\nForth with her lord to banishment?\nHer faith to me she nobly held\nThough from my realm and home expelled,\u2014\nA hermit, nursed on woodland fare,\u2014\nShe followed still and soothed my care.\nOf all my friends am I bereft,\nNor is my faithful consort left.\nHow slowly will the long nights creep\nWhile comfortless I wake and weep!\nO, if my wife may yet be found,\nWith humble love I\u2019ll wander round\nThis Janasth\u00e1n, Pra\u015brava\u1e47\u2019s hill,\nMand\u00e1kin\u00ed\u2019s delightful rill.\nSee how the deer with gentle eyes\nLook on my face and sympathize.\nI mark their soft expression: each\nWould soothe me, if it could, with speech.\u201d\n\n  A while the anxious throng he eyed.\nAnd \u201cWhere is S\u00edt\u00e1, where?\u201d he cried.\nThus while hot tears his utterance broke\nThe mourning son of Raghu spoke.\nThe deer in pity for his woes\nObeyed the summons and arose.\nUpon his right thy stood, and raised\nTheir sad eyes up to heaven and gazed\nEach to that quarter bent her look\nWhich R\u00e1va\u1e47 with his captive took.\nThen Raghu\u2019s son again they viewed,\nAnd toward that point their way pursued.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 watched their looks intent\nAs moaning on their way they went,\nAnd marked each sign which struck his sense\nWith mute expressive influence,\nThen as again his sorrow woke\nThus to his brother chief he spoke:\n\u201cThose deer thy eager question heard\nAnd rose at once by pity stirred:\nSee, in thy search their aid they lend,\nSee, to the south their looks they bend.\nArise, dear brother, let us go\nThe way their eager glances show,\nIf haply sign or trace descried\nOur footsteps in the search may guide.\u201d\n\n  The son of Raghu gave assent,\nAnd quickly to the south they went;\nWith eager eyes the earth he scanned,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 followed close at hand.\nAs each to other spake his thought,\nAnd round with anxious glances sought,\nScattered before them in the way,\nBlooms of a fallen garland lay.\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw that flowery rain\nHe spoke once more with bitterest pain:\n\u201cO Lakshma\u1e47 every flower that lies\nHere on the ground I recognize.\nI culled them in the grove, and there\nMy darling twined them in her hair.\nThe sun, the earth, the genial breeze\nHave spared these flowers my soul to please.\u201d\n\n  Then to that woody hill he prayed,\nWhence flashed afar each wild cascade:\n\u201cO best of mountains, hast thou seen\nA dame of perfect form and mien\nIn some sweet spot with trees o\u2019ergrown,\u2014\nMy darling whom I left alone?\u201d\nThen as a lion threats a deer\nHe thundered with a voice of fear:\n\u201cReveal her, mountain, to my view\nWith golden limbs and golden hue.\nWhere is my darling S\u00edt\u00e1? speak\nBefore I rend thee peak from peak.\u201d\n\n  The mountain seemed her track to show,\nBut told not all he sought to know.\nThen Da\u015baratha\u2019s son renewed\nHis summons as the mount he viewed:\n\u201cSoon as my flaming arrows fly,\nConsumed to ashes shall thou lie\nWithout a herb or bud or tree,\nAnd birds no more shall dwell in thee.\nAnd if this stream my prayer deny,\nMy wrath this day her flood shall dry,\nBecause she lends no aid to trace\nMy darling of the lotus face.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spake as though his ire\nWould scorch them with his glance of fire;\nThen searching farther on the ground\nThe footprint of a fiend he found,\nAnd small light traces here and there,\nWhere S\u00edt\u00e1 in her great despair,\nShrieking for R\u00e1ma\u2019s help, had fled\nBefore the giant\u2019s mighty tread.\nHis careful eye each trace surveyed\nWhich S\u00edt\u00e1 and the fiend had made,\u2014\nThe quivers and the broken bow\nAnd ruined chariot of the foe,\u2014\nAnd told, distraught by fear and grief,\nHis tidings to his brother chief:\n\u201cO Lakshma\u1e47, here,\u201d he cried \u201cbehold\nMy S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s earrings dropped with gold.\nHere lie her garlands torn and rent,\nHere lies each glittering ornament.\nO look, the ground on every side\nWith blood-like drops of gold is dyed.\nThe fiends who wear each strange disguise\nHave seized, I ween, the helpless prize.\nMy lady, by their hands o\u2019erpowered,\nIs slaughtered, mangled, and devoured.\nMethinks two fearful giants came\nAnd waged fierce battle for the dame.\nWhose, Lakshma\u1e47, was this mighty bow\nWith pearls and gems in glittering row?\nCast to the ground the fragments lie,\nAnd still their glory charms the eye.\nA bow so mighty sure was planned\nFor heavenly God or giant\u2019s hand.\nWhose was this coat of golden mail\nWhich, though its lustre now is pale,\nShone like the sun of morning, bright\nWith studs of glittering lazulite?\nWhose, Lakshma\u1e47, was this bloom-wreathed shade\nWith all its hundred ribs displayed?\nThis screen, most meet for royal brow,\nWith broken staff lies useless now.\nAnd these tall asses, goblin-faced,\nWith plates of golden harness graced,\nWhose hideous forms are stained with gore\nWho is the lord whose yoke they bore?\nWhose was this pierced and broken car\nThat shoots a flame-like blaze afar?\nWhose these spent shafts at random spread,\nEach fearful with its iron head,\u2014\nWith golden mountings fair to see,\nLong as a chariot\u2019s axle-tree?\nThese quivers see, which, rent in twain,\nTheir sheaves of arrows still contain.\nWhose was this driver? Dead and cold,\nHis hands the whip and reins still hold.\nSee, Lakshma\u1e47, here the foot I trace\nOf man, nay, one of giant race.\nThe hatred that I nursed of old\nGrows mightier now a hundred fold\nAgainst these giants, fierce of heart,\nWho change their forms by magic art.\nSlain, eaten by the giant press,\nOr stolen is the votaress,\nNor could her virtue bring defence\nTo S\u00edt\u00e1 seized and hurried hence.\nO, if my love be slain or lost\nAll hope of bliss for me is crossed.\nThe power of all the worlds were vain\nTo bring one joy to soothe my pain.\nThe spirits with their blinded eyes\nWould look in wonder, and despise\nThe Lord who made the worlds, the great\nCreator when compassionate.\nAnd so, I ween, the Immortals turn\nCold eyes upon me now, and spurn\nThe weakling prompt at pity\u2019s call,\nDevoted to the good of all.\nBut from this day behold me changed,\nFrom every gentle grace estranged.\nNow be it mine all life to slay,\nAnd sweep these cursed fiends away.\nAs the great sun leaps up the sky,\nAnd the cold moonbeams fade and die,\nSo vengeance rises in my breast,\nOne passion conquering all the rest.\nGandharvas in their radiant place,\nThe Yakshas, and the giant race,\nKinnars and men shall look in vain\nFor joy they ne\u2019er shall see again.\nThe anguish of my great despair,\nO Lakshma\u1e47, fills the heaven and air;\nAnd I in wrath all life will slay\nWithin the triple world to-day.\nUnless the Gods in heaven who dwell\nRestore my S\u00edt\u00e1 safe and well,\nI armed with all the fires of Fate,\nThe triple world will devastate.\nThe troubled stars from heaven shall fall,\nThe moon be wrapped in gloomy pall,\nThe fire be quenched, the wind be stilled,\nThe radiant sun grow dark and chilled;\nCrushed every mountain\u2019s towering pride,\nAnd every lake and river dried,\nDead every creeper, plant, and tree,\nAnd lost for aye the mighty sea.\nThou shalt the world this day behold\nIn wild disorder uncontrolled,\nWith dying life which naught defends\nFrom the fierce storm my bowstring sends.\nMy shafts this day, for S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s sake,\nThe life of every fiend shall take.\nThe Gods this day shall see the force\nThat wings my arrows on their course,\nAnd mark how far that course is held,\nBy my unsparing wrath impelled.\nNo God, not one of Daitya strain,\nGoblin or R\u00e1kshas shall remain.\nMy wrath shall end the worlds, and all\nDemons and Gods therewith shall fall.\nEach world which Gods, the D\u00e1nav race,\nAnd giants make their dwelling place,\nShall fall beneath my arrows sent\nIn fury when my bow is bent.\nThe arrows loosened from my string\nConfusion on the worlds shall bring.\nFor she is lost or breathes no more,\nNor will the Gods my love restore.\nHence all on earth with life and breath\nThis day I dedicate to death.\nAll, till my darling they reveal,\nThe fury of my shafts shall feel.\u201d\n\n  Thus as he spake by rage impelled,\nRed grew his eyes, his fierce lips swelled.\nHis bark coat round his form he drew\nAnd coiled his hermit braids anew,\nLike Rudra when he yearned to slay\nThe demon Tripur(509) in the fray.\nSo looked the hero brave and wise,\nThe fury flashing from his eyes.\nThen R\u00e1ma, conqueror of the foe,\nFrom Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s hand received his bow,\nStrained the great string, and laid thereon\nA deadly dart that flashed and shone,\nAnd spake these words as fierce in ire\nAs He who ends the worlds with fire:\n\n  \u201cAs age and time and death and fate\nAll life with checkless power await,\nSo Lakshma\u1e47 in my wrath to-day\nMy vengeful might shall brook no stay,\nUnless this day I see my dame\nIn whose sweet form is naught to blame,\u2014\nYea, as before, my love behold\nFair with bright teeth and perfect mould,\nThis world shall feel a deadly blow\nDestroyed with ruthless overthrow,\nAnd serpent lords and Gods of air,\nGandharvas, men, the doom shall share.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVI. Lakshman\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nHe stood incensed with eyes of flame,\nStill mourning for his ravished dame,\nDetermined, like the fire of Fate,\nTo leave the wide world desolate.\nHis ready bow the hero eyed,\nAnd as again, again he sighed,\nThe triple world would fain consume\nLike Hara(510) in the day of doom.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 moved with sorrow viewed\nHis brother in unwonted mood,\nAnd reverent palm to palm applied,\nThus spoke with lips which terror dried\n\u201cThy heart was ever soft and kind,\nTo every creature\u2019s good inclined.\nCast not thy tender mood away,\nNor yield to anger\u2019s mastering sway.\nThe moon for gentle grace is known,\nThe sun has splendour all his own,\nThe restless wind is free and fast,\nAnd earth in patience unsurpassed.\nSo glory with her noble fruit\nIs thine eternal attribute.\nO, let not, for the sin of one,\nThe triple world be all undone.\nI know not whose this car that lies\nIn fragments here before our eyes,\nNor who the chiefs who met and fought,\nNor what the prize the foemen sought;\nWho marked the ground with hoof and wheel,\nOr whose the hand that plied the steel\nWhich left this spot, the battle o\u2019er,\nThus sadly dyed with drops of gore.\nSearching with utmost care I view\nThe signs of one and not of two.\nWhere\u2019er I turn mine eyes I trace\nNo mighty host about the place.\nThen mete not out for one offence\nThis all-involving recompense.\nFor kings should use the sword they bear,\nBut mild in time should learn to spare,\nThou, ever moved by misery\u2019s call,\nWast the great hope and stay of all.\nThroughout this world who would not blame\nThis outrage on thy ravished dame?\nGandharvas, D\u00e1navs, Gods, the trees,\nThe rocks, the rivers, and the seas,\nCan ne\u2019er in aught thy soul offend,\nAs one whom holiest rites befriend.\nBut him who dared to steal the dame\nPursue, O King, with ceaseless aim,\nWith me, the hermits\u2019 holy band,\nAnd thy great bow to arm thy hand\nBy every mighty flood we\u2019ll seek,\nEach wood, each hill from base to peak.\nTo the fair homes of Gods we\u2019ll fly,\nAnd bright Gandharvas in the sky,\nUntil we reach, where\u2019er he be,\nThe wretch who stole thy spouse from thee.\nThen if the Gods will not restore\nThy S\u00edt\u00e1 when the search is o\u2019er,\nThen, royal lord of Ko\u015bal\u2019s land,\nNo longer hold thy vengeful hand.\nIf meekness, prayer, and right be weak\nTo bring thee back the dame we seek,\nUp, brother, with a deadly shower\nOf gold-bright shafts thy foes o\u2019erpower,\nFierce as the flashing levin sent\nFrom King Mahendra\u2019s firmament.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVII. R\u00e1ma Appeased.\n\n\nAs R\u00e1ma, pierced by sorrow\u2019s sting,\nLamented like a helpless thing,\nAnd by his mighty woe distraught\nWas lost in maze of troubled thought,\nSumitr\u00e1\u2019s son with loving care\nConsoled him in his wild despair,\nAnd while his feet he gently pressed\nWith words like these the chief addressed:\n\u201cFor sternest vow and noblest deed\nWas Da\u015baratha blessed with seed.\nThee for his son the king obtained,\nLike Amrit by the Gods regained.\nThy gentle graces won his heart,\nAnd all too weak to live apart\nThe monarch died, as Bharat told,\nAnd lives on high mid Gods enrolled.\nIf thou, O R\u00e1ma, wilt not bear\nThis grief which fills thee with despair,\nHow shall a weaker man e\u2019er hope,\nInfirm and mean, with woe to cope?\nTake heart, I pray thee, noblest chief:\nWhat man who breathes is free from grief?\nMisfortunes come and burn like flame,\nThen fly as quickly as they came.\nYay\u00e1ti son of Nahush reigned\nWith Indra on the throne he gained.\nBut falling for a light offence\nHe mourned a while the consequence.\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, reverend saint and sage,\nPriest of our sire from youth to age,\nBegot a hundred sons, but they\nWere smitten in a single day.(511)\nAnd she, the queen whom all revere,\nThe mother whom we hold so dear,\nThe earth herself not seldom feels\nFierce fever when she shakes and reels.\nAnd those twin lights, the world\u2019s great eyes,\nOn which the universe relies,\u2014\nDoes not eclipse at times assail\nTheir brilliance till their fires grow pale?\nThe mighty Powers, the Immortal Blest\nBend to a law which none contest.\nNo God, no bodied life is free\nFrom conquering Fate\u2019s supreme decree.\nE\u2019en \u015aakra\u2019s self must reap the meed\nOf virtue and of sinful deed.\nAnd O great lord of men, wilt thou\nHelpless beneath thy misery bow?\nNo, if thy dame be lost or dead,\nO hero, still be comforted,\nNor yield for ever to thy woe\nO\u2019ermastered like the mean and low.\nThy peers, with keen far-reaching eyes,\nSpend not their hours in ceaseless sighs;\nIn dire distress, in whelming ill\nTheir manly looks are hopeful still.\nTo this, great chief, thy reason bend,\nAnd earnestly the truth perpend.\nBy reason\u2019s aid the wisest learn\nThe good and evil to discern.\nWith sin and goodness scarcely known\nFaint light by chequered lives is shown;\nWithout some clear undoubted deed\nWe mark not how the fruits succeed.\nIn time of old, O thou most brave,\nTo me thy lips such counsel gave.\nV\u1e5bihaspati(512) can scarcely find\nNew wisdom to instruct thy mind.\nFor thine is wit and genius high\nMeet for the children of the sky.\nI rouse that heart benumbed by pain\nAnd call to vigorous life again.\nBe manly godlike vigour shown;\nPut forth that noblest strength, thine own.\nStrive, best of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s strain,\nStrive till the conquered foe be slain.\nWhere is the profit or the joy\nIf thy fierce rage the worlds destroy?\nSearch till thou find the guilty foe,\nThen let thy hand no mercy show.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVIII. Jat\u00e1yus.\n\n\nThus faithful Lakshma\u1e47 strove to cheer\nThe prince with counsel wise and clear.\nWho, prompt to seize the pith of all,\nLet not that wisdom idly fall.\nWith vigorous effort he restrained\nThe passion in his breast that reigned,\nAnd leaning on his bow for rest\nHis brother Lakshma\u1e47 thus addressed:\n\u201cHow shall we labour now, reflect;\nWhither again our search direct?\nBrother, what plan canst thou devise\nTo bring her to these longing eyes?\u201d\n\n  To him by toil and sorrow tried\nThe prudent Lakshma\u1e47 thus replied:\n\u201cCome, though our labour yet be vain,\nAnd search through Janasth\u00e1n again,\u2014\nA realm where giant foes abound,\nAnd trees and creepers hide the ground.\nFor there are caverns deep and dread,\nBy deer and wild birds tenanted,\nAnd hills with many a dark abyss,\nGrotto and rock and precipice.\nThere bright Gandharvas love to dwell,\nAnd Kinnars in each bosky dell.\nWith me thy eager search to aid\nBe every hill and cave surveyed.\nGreat chiefs like thee, the best of men,\nEndowed with sense and piercing ken,\nThough tried by trouble never fail,\nLike rooted hills that mock the gale.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, pierced by anger\u2019s sting,\nLaid a keen arrow on his string,\nAnd by the faithful Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side\nRoamed through the forest far and wide.\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yus there with blood-drops dyed,\nLying upon the ground he spied,\nHuge as a mountain\u2019s shattered crest,\nMid all the birds of air the best.\nIn wrath the mighty bird he eyed,\nAnd thus the chief to Lakshma\u1e47 cried:\n\n  \u201cAh me, these signs the truth betray;\nMy darling was the vulture\u2019s prey.\nSome demon in the bird\u2019s disguise\nRoams through the wood that round us lies.\nOn large-eyed S\u00edt\u00e1 he has fed,\nAnd rests him now with wings outspread.\nBut my keen shafts whose flight is true,\nShall pierce the ravenous monster through.\u201d\n\n  An arrow on the string he laid,\nAnd rushing near the bird surveyed,\nWhile earth to ocean\u2019s distant side\nTrembled beneath his furious stride.\nWith blood and froth on neck and beak\nThe dying bird essayed to speak,\nAnd with a piteous voice, distressed,\nThus Da\u015baratha\u2019s son addressed:\n\n  \u201cShe whom like some sweet herb of grace\nThou seekest in this lonely place,\nFair lady, is fierce R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s prey,\nWho took, beside, my life away.\nLakshma\u1e47 and thou had parted hence\nAnd left the dame without defence.\nI saw her swiftly borne away\nBy R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s might which none could stay.\nI hurried to the lady\u2019s aid,\nI crushed his car and royal shade,\nAnd putting forth my warlike might\nHurled R\u00e1va\u1e47 to the earth in fight.\nHere, R\u00e1ma, lies his broken bow,\nHere lie the arrows of the foe.\nThere on the ground before thee are\nThe fragments of his battle car.\nThere bleeds the driver whom my wings\nBeat down with ceaseless buffetings.\nWhen toil my aged strength subdued,\nHis sword my weary pinions hewed.\nThen lifting up the dame he bare\nHis captive through the fields of air.\nThy vengeful blows from me restrain,\nAlready by the giant slain.\u201d\n\n  When R\u00e1ma heard the vulture tell\nThe tale that proved his love so well,\nHis bow upon the ground he placed,\nAnd tenderly the bird embraced:\nThen to the earth he fell o\u2019erpowered,\nAnd burning tears both brothers showered,\nFor double pain and anguish pressed\nUpon the patient hero\u2019s breast.\nThe solitary bird he eyed\nWho in the lone wood gasped and sighed,\nAnd as again his anguish woke\nThus R\u00e1ma to his brother spoke:\n\n  \u201cExpelled from power the woods I tread,\nMy spouse is lost, the bird is dead.\nA fate so sad, I ween, would tame\nThe vigour of the glorious flame.\nIf I to cool my fever tried\nTo cross the deep from side to side,\nThe sea,\u2014so hard my fate,\u2014would dry\nHis waters as my feet came nigh.\nIn all this world there lives not one\nSo cursed as I beneath the sun;\nSo strong a net of misery cast\nAround me holds the captive fast,\nBest of all birds that play the wing,\nLoved, honoured by our sire the king,\nThe vulture, in my fate enwound,\nLies bleeding, dying on the ground.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma and his brother stirred\nBy pity mourned the royal bird,\nAnd, as their hands his limbs caressed,\nAffection for a sire expressed.\nAnd R\u00e1ma to his bosom strained\nThe bird with mangled wings distained,\n  With crimson blood-drops dyed.\nHe fell, and shedding many a tear,\n\u201cWhere is my spouse than life more dear?\n  Where is my love?\u201d he cried.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIX. The Death Of Jat\u00e1yus.\n\n\nAs R\u00e1ma viewed with heart-felt pain\nThe vulture whom the fiend had slain,\nIn words with tender love impressed\nHis brother chief he thus addressed:\n\n  \u201cThis royal bird with faithful thought\nFor my advantage strove and fought.\nSlain by the fiend in mortal strife\nFor me he yields his noble life.\nSee, Lakshma\u1e47, how his wounds have bled;\nHis struggling breath will soon have fled.\nFaint is his voice, and near to die,\nHe scarce can lift his trembling eye.\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yus, if thou still can speak,\nGive, give the answer that I seek.\nThe fate of ravished S\u00edt\u00e1 tell,\nAnd how thy mournful chance befell.\nSay why the giant stole my dame:\nWhat have I done that he could blame?\nWhat fault in me has R\u00e1va\u1e47 seen\nThat he should rob me of my queen?\nHow looked the lady\u2019s moon-bright cheek?\nWhat were the words she found to speak?\nHis strength, his might, his deeds declare:\nAnd tell the form he loves to wear.\nTo all my questions make reply:\nWhere does the giant\u2019s dwelling lie?\u201d\n\n  The noble bird his glances bent\nOn R\u00e1ma as he made lament,\nAnd in low accents faint and weak\nWith anguish thus began to speak:\n\u201cFierce R\u00e1va\u1e47, king of giant race,\nStole S\u00edt\u00e1 from thy dwelling-place.\nHe calls his magic art to aid\nWith wind and cloud and gloomy shade.\nWhen in the fight my power was spent\nMy wearied wings he cleft and rent.\nThen round the dame his arms he threw,\nAnd to the southern region flew.\nO Raghu\u2019s son, I gasp for breath,\nMy swimming sight is dim in death.\nE\u2019en now before my vision pass\nBright trees of gold with hair of grass,\nThe hour the impious robber chose\nBrings on the thief a flood of woes.\nThe giant in his haste forgot\n\u2019Twas Vinda\u2019s hour,(513) or heeded not.\nThose robbed at such a time obtain\nTheir plundered store and wealth again.\nHe, like a fish that takes the bait,\nIn briefest time shall meet his fate.\nNow be thy troubled heart controlled\nAnd for thy lady\u2019s loss consoled,\nFor thou wilt slay the fiend in fight\nAnd with thy dame have new delight.\u201d\n\n  With senses clear, though sorely tried,\nThe royal vulture thus replied,\nWhile as he sank beneath his pain\nForth rushed the tide of blood again.\n\u201cHim,(514) brother of the Lord of Gold,\nVi\u015bravas\u2019 self begot of old.\u201d\nThus spoke the bird, and stained with gore\nResigned the breath that came no more.\n\n  \u201cSpeak, speak again!\u201d thus R\u00e1ma cried,\nWith reverent palm to palm applied,\nBut from the frame the spirit fled\nAnd to the skiey regions sped.\nThe breath of life had passed away.\nStretched on the ground the body lay.\n\n  When R\u00e1ma saw the vulture lie,\nHuge as a hill, with darksome eye,\nWith many a poignant woe distressed\nHis brother chief he thus addressed:\n\u201cAmid these haunted shades content\nFull many a year this bird has spent.\nHis life in home of giants passed,\nIn Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood he dies at last.\nThe years in lengthened course have fled\nUntroubled o\u2019er the vulture\u2019s head,\nAnd now he lies in death, for none\nThe stern decrees of Fate may shun.\nSee, Lakshma\u1e47, how the vulture fell\nWhile for my sake he battled well.\nAnd strove to free with onset bold\nMy S\u00edt\u00e1 from the giant\u2019s hold.\nSupreme amid the vulture kind\nHis ancient rule the bird resigned,\nAnd conquered in the fruitless strife\nGave for my sake his noble life.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, many a time we see\nGreat souls who keep the law\u2019s decree,\nWith whom the weak sure refuge find,\nIn creatures of inferior kind.\nThe loss of her, my darling queen,\nStrikes with a pang less fiercely keen\nThan now this slaughtered bird to see\nWho nobly fought and died for me.\nAs Da\u015baratha, good and great,\nWas glorious in his high estate,\nHonoured by all, to all endeared,\nSo was this royal bird revered.\nBring fuel for the funeral rite:\nThese hands the solemn fire shall light\nAnd on the burning pyre shall lay\nThe bird who died for me to-day.\nNow on the gathered wood shall lie\nThe lord of all the birds that fly,\nAnd I will burn with honours due\nMy champion whom the giant slew.\nO royal bird of noblest heart,\nGraced with all funeral rites depart\nTo bright celestial seats above,\nRewarded for thy faithful love.\nDwell in thy happy home with those\nWhose constant fires of worship rose.\nLive blest amid the unyielding brave,\nAnd those who land in largess gave.\u201d\n\n  Sore grief upon his bosom weighed\nAs on the pyre the bird he laid,\nAnd bade the kindled flame ascend\nTo burn the body of his friend.\nThen with his brother by his side\nThe hero to the forest hied.\nThere many a stately deer he slew,\nThe flesh around the bird to strew.\nThe venison into balls he made,\nAnd on fair grass before him laid.\nThen that the parted soul might rise\nAnd find free passage to the skies,\nEach solemn word and text he said\nWhich Br\u00e1hmans utter o\u2019er the dead.\nThen hastening went the princely pair\nTo bright God\u00e1var\u00ed, and there\nLibations of the stream they poured\nIn honour of the vulture lord,\nWith solemn ritual to the slain,\nAs scripture\u2019s holy texts ordain.\nThus offerings to the bird they gave\nAnd bathed their bodies in the wave.\n\nThe vulture monarch having wrought\n  A hard and glorious feat,\nHonoured by R\u00e1ma sage in thought,\n  Soared to his blissful seat.\nThe brothers, when each rite was paid\n  To him of birds supreme,\nTheir hearts with new-found comfort stayed,\n  And turned them from the stream.\nLike sovereigns of celestial race\n  Within the wood they came,\nEach pondering the means to trace,\n  The captor of the dame.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXX. Kabandha.\n\n\nWhen every rite was duly paid\nThe princely brothers onward strayed,\nAnd eager in the lady\u2019s quest\nThey turned their footsteps to the west.\nThrough lonely woods that round them lay\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s children made their way,\nAnd armed with bow and shaft and brand\nPressed onward to the southern land.\nThick trees and shrubs and creepers grew\nIn the wild grove they hurried through.\n\u2019Twas dark and drear and hard to pass\nFor tangled thorns and matted grass.\nStill onward with a southern course\nThey made their way with vigorous force,\nAnd passing through the mazes stood\nBeyond that vast and fearful wood.\nWith toil and hardship yet unspent\nThree leagues from Janasth\u00e1n they went,\nAnd speeding on their way at last\nWithin the wood of Krauncha(515) passed:\nA fearful forest wild and black\nAs some huge pile of cloudy rack,\nFilled with all birds and beasts, where grew\nBright blooms of every varied hue.\nOn S\u00edt\u00e1 bending every thought\nThrough all the mighty wood they sought,\nAnd at the lady\u2019s loss dismayed\nHere for a while and there they stayed.\nThen turning farther eastward they\nPursued three leagues their weary way,\nPassed Krauncha\u2019s wood and reached the grove\nWhere elephants rejoiced to rove.\nThe chiefs that awful wood surveyed\nWhere deer and wild birds filled each glade,\nWhere scarce a step the foot could take\nFor tangled shrub and tree and brake.\nThere in a mountain\u2019s woody side\nA cave the royal brothers spied,\nWith dread abysses deep as hell,\nWhere darkness never ceased to dwell.\nWhen, pressing on, the lords of men\nStood near the entrance of the den,\nThey saw within the dark recess\nA huge misshapen giantess;\nA thing the timid heart that shook\nWith fearful shape and savage look.\nTerrific fiend, her voice was fierce,\nLong were her teeth to rend and pierce.\nThe monster gorged her horrid feast\nOf flesh of many a savage beast,\nWhile her long locks, at random flung,\nDishevelled o\u2019er her shoulders hung.\nTheir eyes the royal brothers raised,\nAnd on the fearful monster gazed.\nForth from her den she came and glanced\nAt Lakshma\u1e47 as he first advanced,\nHer eager arms to hold him spread,\nAnd \u201cCome and be my love\u201d she said,\nThen as she held him to her breast,\nThe prince in words like these addressed:\n\u201cBehold thy treasure fond and fair:\nAyomukhi(516) the name I bear.\nIn thickets of each lofty hill,\nOn islets of each brook and rill,\nWith me delighted shalt thou play,\nAnd live for many a lengthened day.\u201d\n\n  Enraged he heard the monster woo;\nHis ready sword he swiftly drew,\nAnd the sharp steel that quelled his foes\nCut through her breast and ear and nose.\nThus mangled by his vengeful sword\nIn rage and pain the demon roared,\nAnd hideous with her awful face\nSped to her secret dwelling place.\nSoon as the fiend had fled from sight,\nThe brothers, dauntless in their might,\nReached a wild forest dark and dread\nWhose tangled ways were hard to tread.\nThen bravest Lakshma\u1e47, virtuous youth,\nThe friend of purity and truth,\nWith reverent palm to palm applied\nThus to his glorious brother cried:\n\n  \u201cMy arm presaging throbs amain,\nMy troubled heart is sick with pain,\nAnd cheerless omens ill portend\nWhere\u2019er my anxious eyes I bend.\nDear brother, hear my words: advance\nResolved and armed for every chance,\nFor every sign I mark to-day\nForetells a peril in the way.\nThis bird of most ill-omened note,\nLoud screaming with discordant throat,\nAnnounces with a warning cry\nThat strife and victory are nigh.\u201d\n\n  Then as the chiefs their search pursued\nThroughout the dreary solitude,\nThey heard amazed a mighty sound\nThat broke the very trees around,\nAs though a furious tempest passed\nCrushing the wood beneath its blast.\nThen R\u00e1ma raised his trusty sword,\nAnd both the hidden cause explored.\nThere stood before their wondering eyes\nA fiend broad-chested, huge of size.\nA vast misshapen trunk they saw\nIn height surpassing nature\u2019s law.\nIt stood before them dire and dread\nWithout a neck, without a head.\nTall as some hill aloft in air,\nIts limbs were clothed with bristling hair,\nAnd deep below the monster\u2019s waist\nHis vast misshapen mouth was placed.\nHis form was huge, his voice was loud\nAs some dark-tinted thunder cloud.\nForth from his ample chest there came\nA brilliance as of gushing flame.\nBeneath long lashes, dark and keen\nThe monster\u2019s single eye was seen.\nDeep in his chest, long, fiercely bright,\nIt glittered with terrific light.\nHe swallowed down his savage fare\nOf lion, bird, and slaughtered bear,\nAnd with huge teeth exposed to view\nO\u2019er his great lips his tongue he drew.\nHis arms unshapely, vast and dread,\nA league in length, he raised and spread.\nHe seized with monstrous hands a herd\nOf deer and many a bear and bird.\nAmong them all he picked and chose,\nDrew forward these, rejected those.\nBefore the princely pair he stood\nBarring their passage through the wood.\nA league of shade the chiefs had passed\nWhen on the fiend their eyes they cast.\nA monstrous shape without a head\nWith mighty arms before him spread,\nThey saw that hideous trunk appear\nThat struck the trembling eye with fear.\nThen, stretching to their full extent\nHis awful arms with fingers bent,\nRound Raghu\u2019s princely sons he cast\nEach grasping limb and held them fast.\nThough strong of arm and fierce in fight,\nEach armed with bow and sword to smite,\nThe royal brothers, brave and bold,\nWere helpless in the giant\u2019s hold.\nThen Raghu\u2019s son, heroic still,\nFelt not a pang his bosom thrill;\nBut young, with no protection near,\nHis brother\u2019s heart was sad with fear,\nAnd thus with trembling tongue he said\nTo R\u00e1ma, sore disquieted:\n\n  \u201cAh me, ah me, my days are told:\nO see me in the giant\u2019s hold.\nFly, son of Raghu, swiftly flee,\nAnd thy dear self from danger free.\nMe to the fiend an offering give;\nFly at thine ease thyself and live.\nThou, great Kakutstha\u2019s son, I ween,\nWilt find ere long thy Maithil queen,\nAnd when thou holdest, throned again,\nThine old hereditary reign,\nWith servants prompt to do thy will,\nO think upon thy brother still.\u201d\nAs thus the trembling Lakshma\u1e47 cried,\nThe dauntless R\u00e1ma thus replied:\n\u201cBrother, from causeless dread forbear.\nA chief like thee should scorn despair.\u201d\nHe spoke to soothe his wild alarm:\nThen fierce Kabandha(517) long of arm,\nAmong the D\u00e1navs(518) first and best,\nThe sons of Raghu thus addressed:\n\u201cWhat men are you, whose shoulders show\nBroad as a bull\u2019s, with sword and bow,\nWho roam this dark and horrid place,\nBrought by your fate before my face?\nDeclare by what occasion led\nThese solitary wilds you tread,\nWith swords and bows and shafts to pierce,\nLike bulls whose horns are strong and fierce.\nWhy have you sought this forest land\nWhere wild with hunger\u2019s pangs I stand?\nNow as your steps my path have crossed\nEsteem your lives already lost.\u201d\n\n  The royal brothers heard with dread\nThe words which fierce Kabandha said.\nAnd R\u00e1ma to his brother cried,\nWhose cheek by blanching fear was dried:\n\n  \u201cAlas, we fall, O valiant chief,\nFrom sorrow into direr grief,\nStill mourning her I hold so dear\nWe see our own destruction near.\nMark, brother, mark what power has time\nO\u2019er all that live, in every clime.\nNow, lord of men, thyself and me\nInvolved in fatal danger see.\n\u2019Tis not, be sure, the might of Fate\nThat crushes all with deadly weight.\nNe\u2019er can the brave and strong, who know\nThe use of spear and sword and bow,\nThe force of conquering time withstand,\nBut fall like barriers built of sand.\u201d\n\nThus in calm strength which naught could shake\nThe son of Da\u015baratha spake,\n  With glory yet unstained\nUpon Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son he bent\nHis eyes, and firm in his intent\n  His dauntless heart maintained.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXI. Kabandha\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nKabandha saw each chieftain stand\nImprisoned by his mighty hand,\nWhich like a snare around him pressed\nAnd thus the royal pair addressed:\n\u201cWhy, warriors, are your glances bent\nOn me whom hungry pangs torment?\nWhy stand with wildered senses? Fate\nHas brought you now my maw to sate.\u201d\n\n  When Lakshma\u1e47 heard, a while appalled,\nHis ancient courage he recalled,\nAnd to his brother by his side\nWith seasonable counsel cried:\n\n  \u201cThis vilest of the giant race\nWill draw us to his side apace.\nCome, rouse thee; let the vengeful sword\nSmite off his arms, my honoured lord.\nThis awful giant, vast of size,\nOn his huge strength of arm relies,\nAnd o\u2019er the world victorious, thus\nWith mighty force would slaughter us.\nBut in cold blood to slay, O King,\nDiscredit on the brave would bring,\nAs when some victim in the rite\nShuns not the hand upraised to smite.\u201d\n\n  The monstrous fiend, to anger stirred,\nThe converse of the brothers heard.\nHis horrid mouth he opened wide\nAnd drew the princes to his side.\nThey, skilled due time and place to note\nUnsheathed their glittering swords and smote,\nTill from the giant\u2019s shoulders they\nHad hewn the mighty arms away.\nHis trenchant falchion R\u00e1ma plied\nAnd smote him on the better side,\nWhile valiant Lakshma\u1e47 on the left\nThe arm that held him prisoned cleft.\nThen to the earth dismembered fell\nThe monster with a hideous yell,\nAnd like a cloud\u2019s his deep roar went\nThrough earth and air and firmament.\nThen as the giant\u2019s blood flowed fast,\nOn his cleft limbs his eye he cast,\nAnd called upon the princely pair\nTheir names and lineage to declare.\nHim then the noble Lakshma\u1e47, blest\nWith fortune\u2019s favouring marks, addressed,\nAnd told the fiend his brother\u2019s name\nAnd the high blood of which he came:\n\u201cIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s heir here R\u00e1ma stands,\nIllustrious through a hundred lands.\nI, younger brother of the heir,\nO fiend, the name of Lakshma\u1e47 bear.\nHis mother stole his realm away\nAnd drove him forth in woods to stray.\nThus through the mighty forest he\nRoamed with his royal wife and me.\nWhile glorious as a God he made\nHis dwelling in the greenwood shade,\nSome giant stole away his dame,\nAnd seeking her we hither came.\nBut tell me who thou art, and why\nWith headless trunk that towered so high,\nWith flaming face beneath thy chest,\nThou liest crushed in wild unrest.\u201d\n\n  He heard the words that Lakshma\u1e47 spoke,\nAnd memory in his breast awoke,\nRecalling Indra\u2019s words to mind\nHe spoke in gentle tones and kind:\n\u201cO welcome best of men, are ye\nWhom, blest by fate, this day I see.\nA blessing on each trenchant blade\nThat low on earth these arms has laid!\nThou, lord of men, incline thine ear\nThe story of my woe to hear,\nWhile I the rebel pride declare\nWhich doomed me to the form I wear.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXII. Kabandha\u2019s Tale.\n\n\n\u201cLord of the mighty arm, of yore\nA shape transcending thought I wore,\nAnd through the triple world\u2019s extent\nMy fame for might and valour went.\nScarce might the sun and moon on high,\nScarce \u015aakra, with my beauty vie.\nThen for a time this form I took,\nAnd the great world with trembling shook.\nThe saints in forest shades who dwelt\nThe terror of my presence felt.\nBut once I stirred to furious rage\nGreat Sth\u00fala\u015biras, glorious sage.\nCulling in woods his hermit food\nMy hideous shape with fear he viewed.\nThen forth his words of anger burst\nThat bade me live a thing accursed:\n\u201cThou, whose delight is others\u2019 pain,\nThis grisly form shalt still retain.\u201d\n\n  Then when I prayed him to relent\nAnd fix some term of punishment,\u2014\nPrayed that the curse at length might cease,\nHe bade me thus expect release:\n\u201cLet R\u00e1ma cleave thine arms away\nAnd on the pyre thy body lay,\nAnd then shalt thou, set free from doom,\nThine own fair shape once more assume.\u201d\nO Lakshma\u1e47, hear my words: in me\nThe world-illustrious Danu see.\nBy Indra\u2019s curse, subdued in fight,\nI wear this form which scares the sight.\nBy sternest penance long maintained\nThe mighty Father\u2019s grace I gained.\nWhen length of days the God bestowed,\nWith foolish pride my bosom glowed.\nMy life, of lengthened years assured,\nI deemed from \u015aakra\u2019s might secured.\nLet by my senseless pride astray\nI challenged Indra to the fray.\nA flaming bolt with many a knot\nWith his terrific arm he shot,\nAnd straight my head and thighs compressed\nWere buried in my bulky chest.\nDeaf to each prayer and piteous call\nHe sent me not to Y\u00e1ma\u2019s hall.\n\u201cThy prayers and cries,\u201d he said \u201care vain:\nThe Father\u2019s word must true remain.\u201d\n\u201cBut how may lengthened life be spent\nBy one the bolt has torn and rent?\nHow can I live,\u201d I cried, \u201cunfed,\nWith shattered face and thighs and head?\u201d\nAs thus I spoke his grace to crave,\nArms each a league in length he gave,\nAnd opened in my chest beneath\nThis mouth supplied with fearful teeth.\nSo my huge arms I used to cast\nRound woodland creatures as they passed,\nAnd fed within the forest here\nOn lion, tiger, pard, and deer.\nThen Indra spake to soothe my grief:\n\u201cWhen R\u00e1ma and his brother chief\nFrom thy huge bulk those arms shall cleave,\nThen shall the skies thy soul receive.\u201d\nDisguised in this terrific shape\nI let no woodland thing escape,\nAnd still my longing soul was pleased\nWhene\u2019er my arms a victim seized,\nFor in these arms I fondly thought\nWould R\u00e1ma\u2019s self at last be caught.\nThus hoping, toiling many a day\nI yearned to cast my life away,\nAnd here, my lord, thou standest now:\nBlessings be thine! for none but thou\nCould cleave my arms with trenchant stroke:\nTrue are the words the hermit spoke.\nNow let me, best of warriors, lend\nMy counsel, and thy plans befriend,\nAnd aid thee with advice in turn\nIf thou with fire my corse wilt burn.\u201d\n\n  As thus the mighty Danu prayed\nWith offer of his friendly aid,\nWhile Lakshma\u1e47 gazed with anxious eye,\nThe virtuous R\u00e1ma made reply:\n\u201cLakshma\u1e47 and I through forest shade\nFrom Janasth\u00e1n a while had strayed.\nWhen none was near her, R\u00e1va\u1e47 came\nAnd bore away my glorious dame,\nThe giant\u2019s form and size unknown,\nI learn as yet his name alone.\nNot yet the power and might we know\nOr dwelling of the monstrous foe.\nWith none our helpless feet to guide\nWe wander here by sorrow tried.\nLet pity move thee to requite\nOur service in the funeral rite.\nOur hands shall bring the boughs that, dry\nWhere elephants have rent them, lie,\nThen dig a pit, and light the fire\nTo burn thee as the laws require.\nDo thou as meed of this declare\nWho stole my spouse, his dwelling where.\nO, if thou can, I pray thee say,\nAnd let this grace our deeds repay.\u201d\n\n  Danu had lent attentive ear\nThe words which R\u00e1ma spoke to hear,\nAnd thus, a speaker skilled and tried,\nTo that great orator replied:\n\u201cNo heavenly lore my soul endows,\nNaught know I of thy Maithil spouse.\nYet will I, when my shape I wear,\nHim who will tell thee all declare.\nThen, R\u00e1ma, will my lips disclose\nHis name who well that giant knows.\nBut till the flames my corse devour\nThis hidden knowledge mocks my power.\nFor through that curse\u2019s withering taint\nMy knowledge now is small and faint.\nUnknown the giant\u2019s very name\nWho bore away the Maithil dame.\nCursed for my evil deeds I wore\nA shape which all the worlds abhor.\nNow ere with wearied steeds the sun\nThrough western skies his course have run,\nDeep in a pit my body lay\nAnd burn it in the wonted way.\nWhen in the grave my corse is placed,\nWith fire and funeral honours graced,\nThen I, great chief, his name will tell\nWho knows the giant robber well.\nWith him, who guides his life aright,\nIn league of trusting love unite,\nAnd he, O valiant prince, will be\nA faithful friend and aid to thee.\nFor, R\u00e1ma, to his searching eyes\nThe triple world uncovered lies.\nFor some dark cause of old, I ween,\nThrough all the spheres his ways have been.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIII. Kabandha\u2019s Counsel.\n\n\nThe monster ceased: the princely pair\nHeard great Kabandha\u2019s eager prayer.\nWithin a mountain cave they sped,\nWhere kindled fire with care they fed.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 in his mighty hands\nBrought ample store of lighted brands,\nAnd to a pile of logs applied\nThe flame that ran from side to side.\nThe spreading glow with gentle force\nConsumed Kabandha\u2019s mighty corse,\nTill the unresting flames had drunk\nThe marrow of the monstrous trunk,\nAs balls of butter melt away\nAmid the fires that o\u2019er them play.\nThen from the pyre, like flame that glows\nUndimmed by cloudy smoke, he rose,\nIn garments pure of spot or speck,\nA heavenly wreath about his neck.\nResplendent in his bright attire\nHe sprang exultant from the pyre.\nWhile from neck, arm, and foot was sent\nThe flash of gold and ornament.\nHigh on a chariot, bright of hue,\nWhich swans of fairest pinion drew,\nHe filled each region of the air\nWith splendid glow reflected there.\nThen in the sky he stayed his car\nAnd called to R\u00e1ma from afar:\n\u201cHear, chieftain, while my lips explain\nThe means to win thy spouse again.\nSix plans, O prince, the wise pursue\nTo reach the aims we hold in view.(519)\nWhen evils ripening sorely press\nThey load the wretch with new distress,\nSo thou and Lakshma\u1e47, tried by woe,\nHave felt at last a fiercer blow,\nAnd plunged in bitterest grief to-day\nLament thy consort torn away.\nThere is no course but this: attend;\nMake, best of friends, that chief thy friend.\nUnless his prospering help thou gain\nThy plans and hopes must all be vain.\nO R\u00e1ma, hear my words, and seek,\nSugr\u00edva, for of him I speak.\nHis brother B\u00e1li, Indra\u2019s son,\nExpelled him when the fight was won.\nWith four great chieftains, faithful still,\nHe dwells on Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s hill.\u2014\nFair mountain, lovely with the flow\nOf Pamp\u00e1\u2019s waves that glide below,\u2014\nLord of the V\u00e1nars(520) just and true,\nStrong, very glorious, bright to view,\nUnmatched in counsel, firm and meek,\nBound by each word his lips may speak,\nGood, splendid, mighty, bold and brave,\nWise in each plan to guide and save.\nHis brother, fired by lust of sway,\nDrove forth the prince in woods to stray.\nIn all thy search for S\u00edt\u00e1 he\nThy ready friend and help will be.\nWith him to aid thee in thy quest\nDismiss all sorrow from thy breast.\nTime is a mighty power, and none\nHis fixed decree can change or shun.\nSo rich reward thy toil shall bless,\nAnd naught can stay thy sure success.\nSpeed hence, O chief, without delay,\nTo strong Sugr\u00edva take thy way.\nThis hour thy footsteps onward bend,\nAnd make that mighty prince thy friend.\nWith him before the attesting flame\nIn solemn truth alliance frame.\nNor wilt thou, if thy heart be wise,\nSugr\u00edva, V\u00e1nar king, despise.\nOf boundless strength, all shapes he wears,\nHe hearkens to a suppliant\u2019s prayers,\nAnd, grateful for each kindly deed,\nWill help and save in hour of need.\nAnd you, I ween, the power possess\nTo aid his hopes and give redress.\nHe, let his cause succeed or fail,\nWill help you, and you must prevail.\nA banished prince, in fear and woe\nHe roams where Pamp\u00e1\u2019s waters flow,\nTrue offspring of the Lord of Light\nExpelled by B\u00e1li\u2019s conquering might.\nGo, Raghu\u2019s son, that chieftain seek\nWho dwells on Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s peak.\nBefore the flame thy weapons cast\nAnd bind the bonds of friendship fast.\nFor, prince of all the V\u00e1nar race,\nHe in his wisdom knows each place\nWhere dwell the fierce gigantic brood\nWho make the flesh of man their food.\nTo him, O Raghu\u2019s son, to him\nNaught in the world is dark or dim,\nWhere\u2019er the mighty Day-God gleams\nResplendent with a thousand beams.\nHe over rocky height and hill,\nThrough gloomy cave, by lake and rill,\nWill with his V\u00e1nars seek the prize,\nAnd tell thee where thy lady lies.\nAnd he will send great chieftains forth\nTo east and west and south and north,\nTo seek the distant spot where she\nAll desolate laments for thee.\nHe even in R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s halls would find\nThy S\u00edt\u00e1, gem of womankind.\n  Yea, if the blameless lady lay\n    On Meru\u2019s loftiest steep,\n  Or, far removed from light of day,\n    Where hell is dark and deep,\n  That chief of all the V\u00e1nar race\n    His way would still explore,\n  Meet the cowed giants face to face\n    And thy dear spouse restore.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIV. Kabandha\u2019s Death.\n\n\nWhen wise Kabandha thus had taught\nThe means to find the dame they sought,\nAnd urged them onward in the quest,\nHe thus again the prince addressed:\n\n  \u201cThis path, O Raghu\u2019s son, pursue\nWhere those fair trees which charm the view,\nExtending westward far away,\nThe glory of their bloom display,\nWhere their bright leaves Rose-apples show,\nAnd the tall Jak and Mango grow.\nWhene\u2019er you will, those trees ascend,\nOr the long branches shake and bend,\nTheir savoury fruit like Amrit eat,\nThen onward speed with willing feet.\nBeyond this shady forest, decked\nWith flowering trees, your course direct.\nAnother grove you then will find\nWith every joy to take the mind,\nLike Nandan with its charms displayed,\nOr Northern Kuru\u2019s blissful shade;\nWhere trees distil their balmy juice,\nAnd fruit through all the year produce;\nWhere shades with seasons ever fair\nWith Chaitraratha may compare:\nWhere trees whose sprays with fruit are bowed\nRise like a mountain or a cloud.\nThere, when you list, from time to time,\nThe loaded trees may Lakshma\u1e47 climb,\nOr from the shaken boughs supply\nSweet fruit that may with Amrit vie.\nThe onward path pursuing still\nFrom wood to wood, from hill to hill,\nYour happy eyes at length will rest\nOn Pamp\u00e1\u2019s lotus-covered breast.\nHer banks with gentle slope descend,\nNor stones nor weed the eyes offend,\nAnd o\u2019er smooth beds of silver sand\nLotus and lily blooms expand.\nThere swans and ducks and curlews play,\nAnd keen-eyed ospreys watch their prey,\nAnd from the limpid waves are heard\nGlad notes of many a water-bird.\nUntaught a deadly foe to fear\nThey fly not when a man is near,\nAnd fat as balls of butter they\nWill, when you list, your hunger stay.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 with his shafts will take\nThe fish that swim the brook and lake,\nRemove each bone and scale and fin,\nOr strip away the speckled skin,\nAnd then on iron skewers broil\nFor thy repast the savoury spoil.\nThou on a heap of flowers shalt rest\nAnd eat the meal his hands have dressed,\nThere shalt thou lie on Pamp\u00e1\u2019s brink,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s hand shall give thee drink,\nFilling a lotus leaf with cool\nPure water from the crystal pool,\nTo which the opening blooms have lent\nThe riches of divinest scent.\nBeside thee at the close of day\nWill Lakshma\u1e47 through the woodland stray,\nAnd show thee where the monkeys sleep\nIn caves beneath the mountain steep.\nLoud-voiced as bulls they forth will burst\nAnd seek the flood, oppressed by thirst;\nThen rest a while, their wants supplied,\nTheir well-fed bands on Pamp\u00e1\u2019s side.\nThou roving there at eve shalt see\nRich clusters hang on shrub and tree,\nAnd Pamp\u00e1 flushed with roseate glow,\nAnd at the view forget thy woe.\nThere shalt thou mark with strange delight\nEach loveliest flower that blooms by night,\nWhile lily buds that shrink from day\nTheir tender loveliness display.\nIn that far wild no hand but thine\nThose peerless flowers in wreaths shall twine:\nImmortal in their changeless pride,\nNe\u2019er fade those blooms and ne\u2019er are dried.\nThere erst on holy thoughts intent\nTheir days Matanga\u2019s pupils spent.\nOnce for their master food they sought,\nAnd store of fruit and berries brought.\nThen as they laboured through the dell\nFrom limb and brow the heat-drops fell:\nThence sprang and bloomed those wondrous trees:\nSuch holy power have devotees.\nThus, from the hermits\u2019 heat-drops sprung,\nTheir growth is ever fresh and young.\nThere \u015aavar\u00ed is dwelling yet,\nWho served each vanished anchoret.\nBeneath the shade of holy boughs\nThat ancient votaress keeps her vows.\nHer happy eyes on thee will fall,\nO godlike prince, adored by all,\nAnd she, whose life is pure from sin,\nA blissful seat in heaven will win.\nBut cross, O son of Raghu, o\u2019er,\nAnd stand on Pamp\u00e1\u2019s western shore.\nA tranquil hermitage that lies\nDeep in the woods will meet thine eyes.\nNo wandering elephants invade\nThe stillness of that holy shade,\nBut checked by saint Matanga\u2019s power\nThey spare each consecrated bower.\nThrough many an age those trees have stood\nWorld-famous as Matanga\u2019s wood\nStill, Raghu\u2019s son, pursue thy way:\nThrough shades where birds are vocal stray,\nFair as the blessed wood where rove\nImmortal Gods, or Nandan\u2019s grove.\nNear Pamp\u00e1 eastward, full in sight,\nStands Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s wood-crowned height.\n\u2019Tis hard to climb that towering steep\nWhere serpents unmolested sleep.\nThe free and bounteous, formed of old\nBy Brahm\u00e1 of superior mould,\nWho sink when day is done to rest\nReclining on that mountain crest,\u2014\nWhat wealth or joy in dreams they view,\nAwaking find the vision true.\nBut if a villain stained with crime\nThat holy hill presume to climb,\nThe giants in their fury sweep\nFrom the hill top the wretch asleep.\nThere loud and long is heard the roar\nOf elephants on Pamp\u00e1\u2019s shore,\nWho near Matanga\u2019s dwelling stray\nAnd in those waters bathe and play.\nA while they revel by the flood,\nTheir temples stained with streams like blood,\nThen wander far away dispersed,\nDark as huge clouds before they burst.\nBut ere they part they drink their fill\nOf bright pure water from the rill,\nDelightful to the touch, where meet\nScents of all flowers divinely sweet,\nThen speeding from the river side\nDeep in the sheltering thicket hide.\nThen bears and tigers shalt thou view\nWhose soft skins show the sapphire\u2019s hue,\nAnd silvan deer that wander nigh\nShall harmless from thy presence fly.\nHigh in that mountain\u2019s wooded side\nIs a fair cavern deep and wide,\nYet hard to enter: piles of rock\nThe portals of the cavern block.(521)\nFast by the eastern door a pool\nGleams with broad waters fresh and cool,\nWhere stores of roots and fruit abound,\nAnd thick trees shade the grassy ground.\nThis mountain cave the virtuous-souled\nSugr\u00edva, and his V\u00e1nars hold,\nAnd oft the mighty chieftain seeks\nThe summits of those towering peaks.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake Kabandha high in air\nHis counsel to the royal pair.\nStill on his neck that wreath he bore,\nAnd radiance like the sun\u2019s he wore.\nTheir eyes the princely brothers raised\nAnd on that blissful being gazed:\n\u201cBehold, we go: no more delay;\nBegin,\u201d they cried, \u201cthy heavenward way.\u201d\n\u201cDepart,\u201d Kabandha\u2019s voice replied,\n\u201cPursue your search, and bliss betide.\u201d\n\n  Thus to the happy chiefs he said,\nThen on his heavenward journey sped.\nThus once again Kabandha won\nA shape that glittered like the sun\n  Without a spot or stain.\nThus bade he R\u00e1ma from the air\nTo great Sugr\u00edva\u2019s side repair\n  His friendly love to gain.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXV. Savar\u00ed.\n\n\nThus counselled by their friendly guide\nOn through the wood the princes hied,\nPursuing still the eastern road\nTo Pamp\u00e1 which Kabandha showed,\nWhere trees that on the mountains grew\nWith fruit like honey charmed the view.\nThey rested weary for the night\nUpon a mountain\u2019s wooded height,\nThen onward with the dawn they hied\nAnd stood on Pamp\u00e1\u2019s western side,\nWhere \u015aavar\u00ed\u2019s fair home they viewed\nDeep in that shady solitude.\nThe princes reached the holy ground\nWhere noble trees stood thick around,\nAnd joying in the lovely view\nNear to the aged votaress drew.\nTo meet the sons of Raghu came,\nWith hands upraised, the pious dame,\nAnd bending low with reverence meet\nWelcomed them both and pressed their feet.\nThen water, as beseems, she gave,\nTheir lips to cool, their feet to lave.\nTo that pure saint who never broke\nOne law of duty R\u00e1ma spoke:\n\n  \u201cI trust no cares invade thy peace,\nWhile holy works and zeal increase;\nThat thou content with scanty food\nAll touch of ire hast long subdued;\nThat all thy vows are well maintained\nWhile peace of mind is surely gained,\nThat reverence of the saints who taught\nThy faithful heart due fruit has brought.\u201d\n\n  The aged votaress pure of taint,\nRevered by every perfect saint,\nRose to her feet by R\u00e1ma\u2019s side\nAnd thus in gentle tones replied:\n\u201cMy penance meed this day I see\nComplete, my lord, in meeting thee.\nThis day the fruit of birth I gain,\nNor have I served the saints in vain.\nI reap rich fruits of toil and vow,\nAnd heaven itself awaits me now,\nWhen I, O chief of men, have done\nHonour to thee the godlike one.\nI feel, great lord, thy gentle eye\nMy earthly spirit purify,\nAnd I, brave tamer of thy foes,\nShall through thy grace in bliss repose.\nThy feet by Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da strayed\nWhen those great saints whom I obeyed,\nIn dazzling chariots bright of hue,\nHence to their heavenly mansions flew.\nAs the high saints were borne away\nI heard their holy voices say:\n\u201cIn this pure grove, O devotee,\nPrince R\u00e1ma soon will visit thee.\nWhen he and Lakshma\u1e47 seek this shade,\nBe to thy guests all honour paid.\nHim shalt thou see, and pass away\nTo those blest worlds which ne\u2019er decay.\u201d\nTo me, O mighty chief, the best\nOf lofty saints these words addressed.\nLaid up within my dwelling lie\nFruits of each sort which woods supply,\u2014\nFood culled for thee in endless store\nFrom every tree on Pamp\u00e1\u2019s shore.\u201d\n\n  Thus to her virtuous guest she sued\nAnd he, with heavenly lore endued,\nWords such as these in turn addressed\nTo her with equal knowledge blest:\n\u201cDanu himself the power has told\nOf thy great masters lofty-souled.\nNow if thou will, mine eyes would fain\nAssurance of their glories gain.\u201d\n\n  She heard the prince his wish declare:\nThen rose she, and the royal pair\nOf brothers through the wood she led\nThat round her holy dwelling spread.\n\u201cBehold Matanga\u2019s wood\u201d she cried,\n\u201cA grove made famous far and wide.\nDark as thick clouds and filled with herds\nOf wandering deer, and joyous birds.\nIn this pure spot each reverend sire\nWith offerings fed the holy fire.\nSee here the western altar stands\nWhere daily with their trembling hands\nThe aged saints, so long obeyed\nBy me, their gifts of blossoms laid.\nThe holy power, O Raghu\u2019s son,\nBy their ascetic virtue won,\nStill keeps their well-loved altar bright,\nFilling the air with beams of light.\nAnd those seven neighbouring lakes behold\nWhich, when the saints infirm and old,\nWorn out by fasts, no longer sought,\nMoved hither drawn by power of thought.\nLook, R\u00e1ma, where the devotees\nHung their bark mantles on the trees,\nFresh from the bath: those garments wet\nThrough many a day are dripping yet.\nSee, through those aged hermits\u2019 power\nThe tender spray, this bright-hued flower\nWith which the saints their worship paid,\nFresh to this hour nor change nor fade.\nHere thou hast seen each lawn and dell,\nAnd heard the tale I had to tell:\nPermit thy servant, lord, I pray,\nTo cast this mortal shell away,\nFor I would dwell, this life resigned,\nWith those great saints of lofty mind,\nWhom I within this holy shade\nWith reverential care obeyed.\u201d\n\n  When R\u00e1ma and his brother heard\nThe pious prayer the dame preferred,\nFilled full of transport and amazed\nThey marvelled as her words they praised.\nThen R\u00e1ma to the votaress said\nWhose holy vows were perfected:\n\u201cGo, lady, where thou fain wouldst be,\nO thou who well hast honoured me.\u201d\n\n  Her locks in hermit fashion tied,\nClad in bark coat and black deer-hide,\nWhen R\u00e1ma gave consent, the dame\nResigned her body to the flame.\nThen like the fire that burns and glows,\nTo heaven the sainted lady rose,\nIn all her heavenly garments dressed,\nImmortal wreaths on neck and breast,\nBright with celestial gems she shone\nMost beautiful to look upon,\nAnd like the flame of lightning sent\nA glory through the firmament.\nThat holy sphere the dame attained,\nBy depth of contemplation gained,\nWhere roam high saints with spirits pure\nIn bliss that shall for aye endure.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXVI. Pamp\u00e1.\n\n\nWhen \u015aavar\u00ed had sought the skies\nAnd gained her splendid virtue\u2019s prize,\nR\u00e1ma with Lakshma\u1e47 stayed to brood\nO\u2019er the strange scenes their eyes had viewed.\nHis mind upon those saints was bent,\nFor power and might pre\u00ebminent\nAnd he to musing Lakshma\u1e47 spoke\nThe thoughts that in his bosom woke:\n\u201cMine eyes this wondrous home have viewed\nOf those great saints with souls subdued,\nWhere peaceful tigers dwell and birds,\nAnd deer abound in heedless herds.\nOur feet upon the banks have stood\nOf those seven lakes within the wood,\nWhere we have duly dipped, and paid\nLibations to each royal shade.\nForgotten now are thoughts of ill\nAnd joyful hopes my bosom fill.\nAgain my heart is light and gay\nAnd grief and care have passed away.\nCome, brother, let us hasten where\nBright Pamp\u00e1\u2019s flood is fresh and fair,\nAnd towering in their beauty near\nMount Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s heights appear,\nWhich, offspring of the Lord of Light,\nStill fearing B\u00e1li\u2019s conquering might,\nWith four brave chiefs of V\u00e1nar race\nSugr\u00edva makes his dwelling-place.\nI long with eager heart to find\nThat leader of the V\u00e1nar kind,\nFor on that chief my hopes depend\nThat this our quest have prosperous end.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spoke, in battle tried,\nAnd thus Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son replied:\n\u201cCome, brother, come, and speed away:\nMy spirit brooks no more delay.\u201d\nThus spake Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, and then\nForth from the grove the king of men\nWith his dear brother by his side\nTo Pamp\u00e1\u2019s lucid waters hied.\nHe gazed upon the woods where grew\nTrees rich in flowers of every hue.\nFrom brake and dell on every side\nThe curlew and the peacock cried,\nAnd flocks of screaming parrots made\nShrill music in the bloomy shade.\nHis eager eyes, as on he went,\nOn many a pool and tree were bent.\nInflamed with love he journeyed on\nTill a fair flood before him shone.\nHe stood upon the water\u2019s side\nWhich streams from distant hills supplied:\nMatanga\u2019s name that water bore:\nThere bathed he from the shelving shore.\nThen, each on earnest thoughts intent,\nStill farther on their way they went.\nBut R\u00e1ma\u2019s heart once more gave way\nBeneath his grief and wild dismay.\nBefore him lay the noble flood\nAdorned with many a lotus bud.\nOn its fair banks A\u015boka glowed,\nAnd all bright trees their blossoms showed.\nGreen banks that silver waves confined\nWith lovely groves were fringed and lined.\nThe crystal waters in their flow\nShowed level sands that gleamed below.\nThere glittering fish and tortoise played,\nAnd bending trees gave pleasant shade.\nThere creepers on the branches hung\nWith lover-like embraces clung.\nThere gay Gandharvas loved to meet,\nAnd Kinnars sought the calm retreat.\nThere wandering Yakshas found delight,\nSnake-gods and rovers of the night.\nCool were the pleasant waters, gay\nEach tree with creeper, flower, and spray.\nThere flushed the lotus darkly red,\nHere their white glory lilies spread,\nHere sweet buds showed their tints of blue:\nSo carpets gleam with many a hue.\nA grove of Mangoes blossomed nigh,\nEchoing with the peacock\u2019s cry.\nWhen R\u00e1ma by his brother\u2019s side\nThe lovely flood of Pamp\u00e1 eyed,\nDecked like a beauty, fair to see\nWith every charm of flower and tree,\nHis mighty heart with woe was rent\nAnd thus he spoke in wild lament\n\n  \u201cHere, Lakshma\u1e47, on this beauteous shore,\nStands, dyed with tints of many an ore,\nThe mountain Rishyam\u00faka bright\nWith flowery trees that crown each height.\nSprung from the chief who, famed of yore,\nThe name of Riksharajas bore,\nSugr\u00edva, chieftain strong and dread,\nDwells on that mountain\u2019s towering head.\nGo to him, best of men, and seek\nThat prince of V\u00e1nars on the peak,\nI cannot longer brook my pain,\nOr, S\u00edt\u00e1 lost, my life retain.\u201d\n  Thus by the pangs of love distressed,\n    His thoughts on S\u00edt\u00e1 bent,\n  His faithful brother he addressed,\n    And cried in wild lament.\n  He reached the lovely ground that lay\n    On Pamp\u00e1\u2019s wooded side,\n  And told in anguish and dismay,\n    The grief he could not hide.\n  With listless footsteps faint and slow\n    His way the chief pursued,\n  Till Pamp\u00e1 with her glorious show\n    Of flowering woods he viewed.\n  Through shades where every bird was found\n    The prince with Lakshma\u1e47 passed,\n  And Pamp\u00e1 with her groves around\n    Burst on his eyes at last.\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV.\n\n\n\n\nCanto I. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nThe princes stood by Pamp\u00e1\u2019s side(522)\nWhich blooming lilies glorified.\nWith troubled heart and sense o\u2019erthrown\nThere R\u00e1ma made his piteous moan.\nAs the fair flood before him lay\nThe reason of the chief gave way;\nAnd tender thoughts within him woke,\nAs to Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son he spoke:\n\n  \u201cHow lovely Pamp\u00e1\u2019s waters show,\nWhere streams of lucid crystal flow!\nWhat glorious trees o\u2019erhang the flood\nWhich blooms of opening lotus stud!\nLook on the banks of Pamp\u00e1 where\nThick groves extend divinely fair;\nAnd piles of trees, like hills in size,\nLift their proud summits to the skies.\nBut thought of Bharat\u2019s(523) pain and toil,\nAnd my dear spouse the giant\u2019s spoil,\nAfflict my tortured heart and press\nMy spirit down with heaviness.\nStill fair to me though sunk in woe\nBright Pamp\u00e1 and her forest show.\nWhere cool fresh waters charm the sight,\nAnd flowers of every hue are bright.\nThe lotuses in close array\nTheir passing loveliness display,\nAnd pard and tiger, deer and snake\nHaunt every glade and dell and brake.\nThose grassy spots display the hue\nOf topazes and sapphires\u2019 blue,\nAnd, gay with flowers of every dye,\nWith richly broidered housings vie.\nWhat loads of bloom the high trees crown,\nOr weigh the bending branches down!\nAnd creepers tipped with bud and flower\nEach spray and loaded limb o\u2019erpower.\nNow cool delicious breezes blow,\nAnd kindle love\u2019s voluptuous glow,\nWhen balmy sweetness fills the air,\nAnd fruit and flowers and trees are fair.\nThose waving woods, that shine with bloom,\nEach varied tint in turn assume.\nLike labouring clouds they pour their showers\nIn rain or ever-changing flowers.\nBehold, those forest trees, that stand\nHigh upon rock and table-land,\nAs the cool gales their branches bend,\nTheir floating blossoms downward send.\nSee, Lakshma\u1e47, how the breezes play\nWith every floweret on the spray.\nAnd sport in merry guise with all\nThe fallen blooms and those that fall.\nSee, brother, where the merry breeze\nShakes the gay boughs of flowery trees,\nDisturbed amid their toil a throng\nOf bees pursue him, loud in song.\nThe Ko\u00efls,(524) mad with sweet delight,\nThe bending trees to dance invite;\nAnd in its joy the wild wind sings\nAs from the mountain cave he springs.\nOn speed the gales in rapid course,\nAnd bend the woods beneath their force,\nTill every branch and spray they bind\nIn many a tangled knot entwined.\nWhat balmy sweets those gales dispense\nWith cool and sacred influence!\nFatigue and trouble vanish: such\nThe magic of their gentle touch.\nHark, when the gale the boughs has bent\nIn woods of honey redolent,\nThrough all their quivering sprays the trees\nAre vocal with the murmuring bees.\nThe hills with towering summits rise,\nAnd with their beauty charm the eyes,\nGay with the giant trees which bright\nWith blossom spring from every height:\nAnd as the soft wind gently sways\nThe clustering blooms that load the sprays,\nThe very trees break forth and sing\nWith startled wild bees\u2019 murmuring.\nThine eyes to yonder Cassias(525) turn\nWhose glorious clusters glow and burn.\nThose trees in yellow robes behold,\nLike giants decked with burnished gold.\nAh me, Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, the spring\nDear to sweet birds who love and sing,\nWakes in my lonely breast the flame\nOf sorrow as I mourn my dame.\nLove strikes me through with darts of fire,\nAnd wakes in vain the sweet desire.\nHark, the loud Ko\u00efl swells his throat,\nAnd mocks me with his joyful note.\nI hear the happy wild-cock call\nBeside the shady waterfall.\nHis cry of joy afflicts my breast\nBy love\u2019s absorbing might possessed.\nMy darling from our cottage heard\nOne morn in spring this shrill-toned bird,\nAnd called me in her joy to hear\nThe happy cry that charmed her ear.\nSee, birds of every varied voice\nAround us in the woods rejoice,\nOn creeper, shrub, and plant alight,\nOr wing from tree to tree their flight.\nEach bird his kindly mate has found,\nAnd loud their notes of triumph sound,\nBlending in sweetest music like\nThe distant warblings of the shrike.\nSee how the river banks are lined\nWith birds of every hue and kind.\nHere in his joy the Ko\u00efl sings,\nThere the glad wild-cock flaps his wings.\nThe blooms of bright A\u015bokas(526) where\nThe song of wild bees fills the air,\nAnd the soft whisper of the boughs\nIncrease my longing for my spouse.\nThe vernal flush of flower and spray\nWill burn my very soul away.\nWhat use, what care have I for life\nIf I no more may see my wife\nSoft speaker with the glorious hair,\nAnd eyes with silken lashes fair?\nNow is the time when all day long\nThe Ko\u00efls fill the woods with song.\nAnd gardens bloom at spring\u2019s sweet touch\nWhich my beloved loved so much.\nAh me, Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, the fire\nOf sorrow, sprung from soft desire,\nFanned by the charms the spring time shows,\nWill burn my heart and end my woes,\nWhose sad eyes look on each fair tree,\nBut my sweet love no more may see.\nAh me, Ah me, from hour to hour\nLove in my soul will wax in power,\nAnd spring, upon whose charms I gaze,\nWhose breath the heat of toil allays,\nWith thoughts of her for whom I strain\nMy hopeless eyes, increase my pain.\nAs fire in summer rages through\nThe forests thick with dry bamboo,\nSo will my fawn eyed love consume\nMy soul o\u2019erwhelmed with thoughts of gloom.\nBehold, beneath each spreading tree\nThe peacocks dance(527) in frantic glee,\nAnd, stirred by all the gales that blow,\nTheir tails with jewelled windows glow,\nEach bird, in happy love elate,\nRejoices with his darling mate.\nBut sights like these of joy and peace\nMy pangs of hopeless love increase.\nSee on the mountain slope above\nThe peahen languishing with love.\nBehold her now in amorous dance\nClose to her consort\u2019s side advance.\nHe with a laugh of joy and pride\nDisplays his glittering pinions wide;\nAnd follows through the tangled dell\nThe partner whom he loves so well.\nAh happy bird! no giant\u2019s hate\nHas robbed him of his tender mate;\nAnd still beside his loved one he\nDances beneath the shade in glee.\nAh, in this month when flowers are fair\nMy widowed woe is hard to bear.\nSee, gentle love a home may find\nIn creatures of inferior kind.\nSee how the peahen turns to meet\nHer consort now with love-drawn feet.\nSo, Lakshma\u1e47, if my large-eyed dear,\nThe child of Janak still were here,\nShe, by love\u2019s thrilling influence led,\nUpon my breast would lay her head.\nThese blooms I gathered from the bough\nWithout my love are useless now.\nA thousand blossoms fair to see\nWith passing glory clothe each tree\nThat hangs its cluster-burthened head\nNow that the dewy months(528) are fled,\nBut, followed by the bees that ply\nTheir fragrant task, they fall and die.\nA thousand birds in wild delight\nTheir rapture-breathing notes unite;\nBird calls to bird in joyous strain,\nAnd turns my love to frenzied pain.\nO, if beneath those alien skies,\nThere be a spring where S\u00edt\u00e1 lies,\nI know my prisoned love must be\nTouched with like grief, and mourn with me.\nBut ah, methinks that dreary clime\nKnows not the touch of spring\u2019s sweet time.\nHow could my black eyed love sustain,\nWithout her lord, so dire a pain?\nOr if the sweet spring come to her\nIn distant lands a prisoner,\nHow may his advent and her met\nOn every side with taunt and threat?\nAh, if the springtide\u2019s languor came\nWith soft enchantment o\u2019er my dame,\nMy darling of the lotus eye,\nMy gently speaking love, would die;\nFor well my spirit knows that she\nCan never live bereft of me\nWith love that never wavered yet\nMy S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s heart, on me is set,\nWho, with a soul that ne\u2019er can stray,\nWith equal love her love repay.\nIn vain, in vain the soft wind brings\nSweet blossoms on his balmy wings;\nDelicious from his native snow,\nTo me like fire he seems to glow.\nO, how I loved a breeze like this\nWhen darling S\u00edt\u00e1 shared the bliss!\nBut now in vain for me it blows\nTo fan the fury of my woes.\nThat dark-winged bird that sought the skies\nForetelling grief with warning cries,\nSits on the tree where buds are gay,\nAnd pours glad music from the spray.\nThat rover of the fields of air\nWill aid my love with friendly care,\nAnd me with gracious pity guide\nTo my large-eyed Videhan\u2019s side.(529)\nHark, Lakshma\u1e47, how the woods around\nWith love-inspiring chants resound,\nWhere birds in every bloom-crowned tree\nPour forth their amorous minstrelsy.\nAs though an eager gallant wooed\nA gentle maid by love subdued,\nEnamoured of her flowers the bee\nDarts at the wind-rocked Tila tree.(530)\nA\u015boka, brightest tree that grows,\nThat lends a pang to lovers\u2019 woes,\nHangs out his gorgeous bloom in scorn\nAnd mocks me as I weep forlorn.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, turn thine eye and see\nEach blossom-laden Mango tree,\nLike a young lover gaily dressed\nWhom fond desire forbids to rest.\nLook, son of Queen Sumitr\u00e1 through\nThe forest glades of varied hue,\nWhere blooms are bright and grass is green\nThe Kinnars(531) with their loves are seen.\nSee, brother, see where sweet and bright\nThose crimson lilies charm the sight,\nAnd o\u2019er the flood a radiance throw\nFair as the morning\u2019s roseate glow.\nSee, Pamp\u00e1, most divinely sweet,\nThe swan\u2019s and mallard\u2019s loved retreat,\nShows her glad waters bright and clear,\nWhere lotuses their heads uprear\nFrom the pure wave, and charm the view\nWith mingled tints of red and blue.\nEach like the morning\u2019s early beams\nReflected in the crystal gleams;\nAnd bees on their sweet toil intent\nWeigh down each tender filament.\nThere with gay lawns the wood recedes;\nThere wildfowl sport amid the reeds,\nThere roedeer stand upon the brink,\nAnd elephants descend to drink.\nThe rippling waves which winds make fleet\nAgainst the bending lilies beat,\nAnd opening bud and flower and stem\nGleam with the drops that hang on them.\nLife has no pleasure left for me\nWhile my dear queen I may not see,\nWho loved so well those blooms that vie\nWith the full splendour of her eye.\nO tyrant Love, who will not let\nMy bosom for one hour forget\nThe lost one whom I yearn to meet,\nWhose words were ever kind and sweet.\nAh, haply might my heart endure\nThis hopeless love that knows not cure,\nIf spring with all his trees in flower\nAssailed me not with ruthless power.\nEach lovely scene, each sound and sight\nWherein, with her, I found delight,\nHas lost the charm so sweet of yore,\nAnd glads my widowed heart no more.\nOn lotus buds I seem to gaze,\nOr blooms that deck Pal\u00e1\u015ba(532) sprays;(533)\n\nBut to my tortured memory rise\nThe glories of my darling\u2019s eyes.\nCool breezes through the forest stray\nGathering odours on their way,\nEnriched with all the rifled scent\nOf lotus flower and filament.\nTheir touch upon my temples falls\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s fragrant breath recalls.\nNow look, dear brother, on the right\nOf Pamp\u00e1 towers a mountain height\nWhere fairest Cassia trees unfold\nThe treasures of their burnished gold.\nProud mountain king! his woody side\nWith myriad ores is decked and dyed,\nAnd as the wind-swept blossoms fall\nTheir fragrant dust is stained with all.\nTo yon high lands thy glances turn:\nWith pendent fire they flash and burn,\nWhere in their vernal glory blaze\nPal\u00e1\u015ba flowers on leafless sprays.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, look! on Pamp\u00e1\u2019s side\nWhat fair trees rise in blooming pride!\nWhat climbing plants above them show\nOr hang their flowery garlands low!\nSee how the amorous creeper rings\nThe wind-rocked trees to which she clings,\nAs though a dame by love impelled\nWith clasping arms her lover held.\nDrunk with the varied scents that fill\nThe balmy air, from hill to hill,\nFrom grove to grove, from tree to tree,\nThe joyous wind is wandering free.\nThese gay trees wave their branches bent\nBy blooms, of honey redolent.\nThere, slowly opening to the day,\nBuds with dark lustre deck the spray.\nThe wild bee rests a moment where\nEach tempting flower is sweet and fair,\nThen, coloured by the pollen dyes,\nDeep in some odorous blossom lies.\nSoon from his couch away he springs:\nTo other trees his course he wings,\nAnd tastes the honeyed blooms that grow\nWhere Pamp\u00e1\u2019s lucid waters flow.\nSee, Lakshma\u1e47, see, how thickly spread\nWith blossoms from the trees o\u2019erhead,\nThat grass the weary traveller woos\nWith couches of a thousand hues,\nAnd beds on every height arrayed\nWith red and yellow tints are laid,\nNo longer winter chills the earth:\nA thousand flowerets spring to birth,\nAnd trees in rivalry assume\nTheir vernal garb of bud and bloom.\nHow fair they look, how bright and gay\nWith tasselled flowers on every spray!\nWhile each to each proud challenge flings\nBorne in the song the wild bee sings.\nThat mallard by the river edge\nHas bathed amid the reeds and sedge:\nNow with his mate he fondly plays\nAnd fires my bosom as I gaze.\n\n  Mand\u00e1kin\u00ed(534) is far renowned:\nNo lovelier flood on earth is found;\nBut all her fairest charms combined\nIn this sweet stream enchant the mind.\nO, if my love were here to look\nWith me upon this lovely brook,\nNever for Ayodhy\u00e1 would I pine,\nOr wish that Indra\u2019s lot were mine.\nIf by my darling\u2019s side I strayed\nO\u2019er the soft turf which decks the glade,\nEach craving thought were sweetly stilled,\nEach longing of my soul fulfilled.\nBut, now my love is far away,\nThose trees which make the woods so gay,\nIn all their varied beauty dressed,\nWake thoughts of anguish in my breast.\n\n  That lotus-covered stream behold\nWhose waters run so fresh and cold,\nSweet rill, the wildfowl\u2019s loved resort,\nWhere curlew, swan, and diver sport;\nWhere with his consort plays the drake,\nAnd tall deer love their thirst to slake,\nWhile from each woody bank is heard\nThe wild note of each happy bird.\nThe music of that joyous quire\nFills all my soul with soft desire;\nAnd, as I hear, my sad thoughts fly\nTo S\u00edt\u00e1 of the lotus eye,\nWhom, lovely with her moonbright cheek,\nIn vain mine eager glances seek.\nNow turn, those chequered lawns survey\nWhere hart and hind together stray.\nAh, as they wander at their will\nMy troubled breast with grief they fill,\nWhile torn by hopeless love I sigh\nFor S\u00edt\u00e1 of the fawn-like eye.\nIf in those glades where, touched by spring,\nGay birds their amorous ditties sing,\nMine own beloved I might see,\nThen, brother, it were well with me:\nIf by my side she wandered still,\nAnd this cool breeze that stirs the rill\nTouched with its gentle breath the brows\nOf mine own dear Videhan spouse.\nFor, Lakshma\u1e47, O how blest are those\nOn whom the breath of Pamp\u00e1 blows,\nDispelling all their care and gloom\nWith sweets from where the lilies bloom!\nHow can my gentle love remain\nAlive amid the woe and pain,\nWhere prisoned far away she lies,\u2014\nMy darling of the lotus eyes?\nHow shall I dare her sire to greet\nWhose lips have never known deceit?\nHow stand before the childless king\nAnd meet his eager questioning?\nWhen banished by my sire\u2019s decree,\nIn low estate, she followed me.\nSo pure, so true to every vow,\nWhere is my gentle darling now?\nHow can I bear my widowed lot,\nAnd linger on where she is not,\nWho followed when from home I fled\nDistracted, disinherited?\nMy spirit sinks in hopeless pain\nWhen my fond glances yearn in vain\nFor that dear face with whose bright eye\nThe worshipped lotus scarce can vie.\nAh when, my brother, shall I hear\nThat voice that rang so soft and clear,\nWhen, sweetly smiling as she spoke,\nFrom her dear lips gay laughter broke?\nWhen worn with toil and love I strayed\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 through the forest shade,\nNo trace of grief was seen in her,\nMy kind and thoughtful comforter.\nHow shall my faltering tongue relate\nTo Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s fate?\nHow answer when in wild despair\nShe questions, Where is S\u00edt\u00e1, where?\nHaste, brother, haste: to Bharat hie,\nOn whose fond love I still rely.\nMy life can be no longer borne,\nSince S\u00edt\u00e1 from my side is torn.\u201d\n\n  Thus like a helpless mourner, bent\nBy sorrow, R\u00e1ma made lament;\nAnd with wise counsel Lakshma\u1e47 tried\nTo soothe his care, and thus replied:\n\u201cO best of men, thy grief oppose,\nNor sink beneath thy weight of woes.\nNot thus despond the great and pure\nAnd brave like thee, but still endure.\nReflect what anguish wrings the heart\nWhen loving souls are forced to part;\nAnd, mindful of the coming pain,\nThy love within thy breast restrain.\nFor earth, though cooled by wandering streams,\nLies scorched beneath the midday beams.\nR\u00e1va\u1e47 his steps to hell may bend,\nOr lower yet in flight descend;\nBut be thou sure, O Raghu\u2019s son,\nAvenging death he shall not shun.\nRise, R\u00e1ma, rise: the search begin,\nAnd track the giant foul with sin.\nThen shall the fiend, though far he fly,\nResign his prey or surely die.\nYea, though the trembling monster hide\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 close to Diti\u2019s(535) side,\nE\u2019en there, unless he yield the prize,\nSlain by this wrathful hand he dies.\nThy heart with strength and courage stay,\nAnd cast this weakling mood away.\nOur fainting hopes in vain revive\nUnless with firm resolve we strive.\nThe zeal that fires the toiler\u2019s breast\nMid earthly powers is first and best.\nZeal every check and bar defies,\nAnd wins at length the loftiest prize,\nIn woe and danger, toil and care,\nZeal never yields to weak despair.\nWith zealous heart thy task begin,\nAnd thou once more thy spouse shalt win.\nCast fruitless sorrow from thy soul,\nNor let this love thy heart control.\nForget not all thy sacred lore,\nBut be thy noble self once more.\u201d\n\n  He heard, his bosom rent by grief,\nThe counsel of his brother chief;\nCrushed in his heart the maddening pain,\nAnd rose resolved and strong again.\nThen forth upon his journey went\nThe hero on his task intent,\nNor thought of Pamp\u00e1\u2019s lovely brook,\nOr trees which murmuring breezes shook,\nThough on dark woods his glances fell,\nOn waterfall and cave and dell;\nAnd still by many a care distressed\nThe son of Raghu onward pressed.\nAs some wild elephant elate\n  Moves through the woods in pride,\nSo Lakshma\u1e47 with majestic gait\n  Strode by his brother\u2019s side.\nHe, for his lofty spirit famed,\n  Admonished and consoled;\nShowed Raghu\u2019s son what duty claimed,\n  And bade his heart be bold.\nThen as the brothers strode apace\n  To Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s height,\nThe sovereign of the V\u00e1nar race(536)\n  Was troubled at the sight.\nAs on the lofty hill he strayed\n  He saw the chiefs draw near:\nA while their glorious forms surveyed,\n  And mused in restless fear.\nHis slow majestic step he stayed\n  And gazed upon the pair.\nAnd all his spirit sank dismayed\n  By fear too great to bear.\nWhen in their glorious might the best\n  Of royal chiefs came nigh,\nThe V\u00e1nars in their wild unrest\n  Prepared to turn and fly.\nThey sought the hermit\u2019s sacred home(537)\n  For peace and bliss ordained,\nAnd there, where V\u00e1nars loved to roam,\n  A sure asylum gained.\n\n\n\n\nCanto II. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Alarm.\n\n\n  Sugr\u00edva moved by wondering awe\nThe high-souled sons of Raghu saw,\nIn all their glorious arms arrayed;\nAnd grief upon his spirit weighed.\nTo every quarter of the sky\nHe turned in fear his anxious eye,\nAnd roving still from spot to spot\nWith troubled steps he rested not.\nHe durst not, as he viewed the pair,\nResolve to stand and meet them there;\nAnd drooping cheer and quailing breast\nThe terror of the chief confessed.\nWhile the great fear his bosom shook,\nBrief counsel with his lords he took;\nEach gain and danger closely scanned,\nWhat hope in flight, what power to stand,\nWhile doubt and fear his bosom rent,\nOn Raghu\u2019s sons his eyes he bent,\nAnd with a spirit ill at ease\nAddressed his lords in words like these:\n\n  \u201cThose chiefs with wandering steps invade\nThe shelter of our pathless shade,\nAnd hither come in fair disguise\nOf hermit garb as B\u00e1li\u2019s spies.\u201d\n\n  Each lord beheld with troubled heart\nThose masters of the bowman\u2019s art,\nAnd left the mountain side to seek\nSure refuge on a loftier peak.\nThe V\u00e1nar chief in rapid flight\nFound shelter on a towering height,\nAnd all the band with one accord\nWere closely gathered round their lord.\nTheir course the same, with desperate leap\nEach made his way from steep to steep,\nAnd speeding on in wild career\nFilled every height with sudden fear.\nEach heart was struck with mortal dread,\nAs on their course the V\u00e1nars sped,\nWhile trees that crowned the steep were bent\nAnd crushed beneath them as they went.\nAs in their eager flight they pressed\nFor safety to each mountain crest,\nThe wild confusion struck with fear\nTiger and cat and wandering deer.\nThe lords who watched Sugr\u00edva\u2019s will\nWere gathered on the royal hill,\nAnd all with reverent hands upraised\nUpon their king and leader gazed.\nSugr\u00edva feared some evil planned,\nSome train prepared by B\u00e1li\u2019s hand.\nBut, skilled in words that charm and teach,\nThus Hanum\u00e1n(538) began his speech:\n\n  \u201cDismiss, dismiss thine idle fear,\nNor dread the power of B\u00e1li here.\nFor this is Malaya\u2019s glorious hill(539)\nWhere B\u00e1li\u2019s might can work no ill.\nI look around but nowhere see\nThe hated foe who made thee flee,\nFell B\u00e1li, fierce in form and face:\nThen fear not, lord of V\u00e1nar race.\nAlas, in thee I clearly find\nThe weakness of the V\u00e1nar kind,\nThat loves from thought to thought to range,\nFix no belief and welcome change.\nMark well each hint and sign and scan,\nDiscreet and wise, thine every plan.\nHow may a king, with sense denied,\nThe subjects of his sceptre guide?\u201d\n\n  Han\u00fam\u00e1n,(540) wise in hour of need,\nUrged on the chief his prudent rede.\nHis listening ear Sugr\u00edva bent,\nAnd spake in words more excellent:\n\n  \u201cWhere is the dauntless heart that free\nFrom terror\u2019s chilling touch can see\nTwo stranger warriors, strong as those,\nEquipped with swords and shafts and bows,\nWith mighty arms and large full eyes,\nLike glorious children of the skies?\nB\u00e1li my foe, I ween, has sent\nThese chiefs to aid his dark intent.\nHence doubt and fear disturb me still,\nFor thousands serve a monarch\u2019s will,\nIn borrowed garb they come, and those\nWho walk disguised are counted foes.\nWith secret thoughts they watch their time,\nAnd wound fond hearts that fear no crime.\nMy foe in state affairs is wise,\nAnd prudent kings have searching eyes.\nBy other hands they strike the foe:\nBy meaner tools the truth they know.\nNow to those stranger warriors turn,\nAnd, less than king, their purpose learn.\nMark well the trick and look of each;\nObserve his form and note his speech.\nWith care their mood and temper sound,\nAnd, if their minds be friendly found,\nWith courteous looks and words begin\nTheir confidence and love to win.\nThen as my friend and envoy speak,\nAnd question what the strangers seek.\nAsk why equipped with shaft and bow\nThrough this wild maze of wood they go.\nIf they, O chief, at first appear\nPure of all guile, in heart sincere,\nDetect in speech and look the sin\nAnd treachery that lurk within.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: the Wind-God\u2019s son obeyed.\nWith ready zeal he sought the shade,\nAnd reached with hasty steps the wood\nWhere Raghu\u2019s son and Lakshma\u1e47 stood.(541)\n\n\n\n\nCanto III. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThe envoy in his faithful breast\nPondered Sugr\u00edva\u2019s high behest.\nFrom Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s peak he hied\nAnd placed him by the princes\u2019 side.\nThe Wind-God\u2019s son with cautious art\nHad laid his V\u00e1nar form apart,\nAnd wore, to cheat the strangers eyes,\nA wandering mendicant\u2019s disguise.(542)\nBefore the heroes\u2019 feet he bent\nAnd did obeisance reverent,\nAnd spoke, the glorious pair to praise,\nHis words of truth in courteous phrase,\nHigh honour duly paid, the best\nOf all the V\u00e1nar kind addressed,\nWith free accord and gentle grace,\nThose glories of their warrior race:\n\n  \u201cO hermits, blest in vows, who shine\nLike royal saints or Gods divine,\nO best of young ascetics, say\nHow to this spot you found your way,\nScaring the troops of wandering deer\nAnd silvan things that harbour here\nSearching amid the trees that grow\nWhere Pamp\u00e1\u2019s gentle waters flow.\nAnd lending from your brows a gleam\nOf glory to the lovely stream.\nWho are you, say, so brave and fair,\nClad in the bark which hermits wear?\nI see you heave the frequent sigh,\nI see the deer before you fly.\nWhile you, for strength and valour dread,\nThe earth, like lordly lions, tread,\nEach bearing in his hand a bow,\nLike Indra\u2019s own, to slay the foe.\nWith the grand paces of a bull,\nSo bright and young and beautiful.\nThe mighty arms you raise appear\nLike trunks which elephants uprear,\nAnd as you move this mountain-king(543)\nIs glorious with the light you bring.\nHow have you reached, like Gods in face,\nBest lords of earth, this lonely place,\nWith tresses coiled in hermit guise,(544)\nAnd splendours of those lotus eyes?\nAs Gods who leave their heavenly sphere,\nAlike your beauteous forms appear.\nThe Lords of Day and Night(545) might thus\nStray from the skies to visit us.\nHeroic youth, so broad of chest,\nFair with the beauty of the Blest,\nWith lion shoulders, tall and strong,\nLike bulls who lead the lowing throng,\nYour arms, unmatched for grace and length,\nWith massive clubs may vie in strength.\nWhy do no gauds those limbs adorn\nWhere priceless gems were meetly worn?\nEach noble youth is fit, I deem,\nTo guard this earth, as lord supreme,\nWith all her woods and seas, to reign\nFrom Meru\u2019s peak to Vindhya\u2019s chain.\nYour smooth bows decked with dyes and gold\nAre glorious in their masters\u2019 hold,\nAnd with the arms of Indra(546) vie\nWhich diamond splendours beautify.\nYour quivers glow with golden sheen,\nWell stored with arrows fleet and keen,\nEach gleaming like a fiery snake\nThat joys the foeman\u2019s life to take.\nAs serpents cast their sloughs away\nAnd all their new born sheen display,\nSo flash your mighty swords inlaid\nWith burning gold on hilt and blade.\nWhy are you silent, heroes? Why\nMy questions hear nor deign reply?\nSugr\u00edva, lord of virtuous mind,\nThe foremost of the V\u00e1nar kind,\nAn exile from his royal state,\nRoams through the land disconsolate.\nI, Hanum\u00e1n, of V\u00e1nar race,\nSent by the king have sought this place,\nFor he, the pious, just, and true,\nIn friendly league would join with you.\nKnow, godlike youths, that I am one\nOf his chief lords, the Wind-God\u2019s son.\nWith course unchecked I roam at will,\nAnd now from Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s hill,\nTo please his heart, his hope to speed,\nI came disguised in beggar\u2019s weed.\u201d\n\n  Thus Han\u00fam\u00e1n, well trained in lore\nOf language, spoke, and said no more.\nThe son of Raghu joyed to hear\nThe envoy\u2019s speech, and bright of cheer\nHe turned to Lakshma\u1e47 by his side,\nAnd thus in words of transport cried:\n\n  \u201cThe counselor we now behold\nOf King Sugr\u00edva righteous-souled.\nHis face I long have yearned to see,\nAnd now his envoy comes to me\nWith sweetest words in courteous phrase\nAnswer this mighty lord who slays\nHis foemen, by Sugr\u00edva sent,\nThis V\u00e1nar chief most eloquent.\nFor one whose words so sweetly flow\nThe whole Rig-veda(547) needs must know,\nAnd in his well-trained memory store\nThe Yajush and the S\u00e1man\u2019s lore.\nHe must have bent his faithful ear\nAll grammar\u2019s varied rules to hear.\nFor his long speech how well he spoke!\nIn all its length no rule he broke.\nIn eye, on brow, in all his face\nThe keenest look no guile could trace.\nNo change of hue, no pose of limb\nGave sign that aught was false in him.\nConcise, unfaltering, sweet and clear,\nWithout a word to pain the ear.\nFrom chest to throat, nor high nor low,\nHis accents came in measured flow.\nHow well he spoke with perfect art\nThat wondrous speech that charmed the heart,\nWith finest skill and order graced\nIn words that knew nor pause nor haste!\nThat speech, with consonants that spring\nFrom the three seats of uttering,(548)\nWould charm the spirit of a foe\nWhose sword is raised for mortal blow.\nHow may a ruler\u2019s plan succeed\nWho lacks such envoy good at need?\nHow fail, if one whose mind is stored\nWith gifts so rare assist his lord?\nWhat plans can fail, with wisest speech\nOf envoy\u2019s lips to further each?\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spoke; and Lakshma\u1e47 taught\nIn all the art that utters thought,\nTo King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s learned spy\nThus made his eloquent reply:\n\u201cFull well we know the gifts that grace\nSugr\u00edva, lord of V\u00e1nar race,\nAnd hither turn our wandering feet\nThat we that high-souled king may meet.\nSo now our pleasant task shall be\nTo do the words he speaks by thee.\u201d\n\n  His prudent speech the V\u00e1nar heard,\nAnd all his heart with joy was stirred.\nAnd hope that league with them would bring\nRedress and triumph to his king.\n\n\n\n\nCanto IV. Lakshman\u2019s Reply.\n\n\nCheered by the words that R\u00e1ma spoke,\nJoy in the V\u00e1nar\u2019s breast awoke,\nAnd, as his friendly mood he knew,\nHis thoughts to King Sugr\u00edva flew:\n\u201cAgain,\u201d he mused, \u201cmy high-souled lord\nShall rule, to kingly state restored;\nSince one so mighty comes to save,\nAnd freely gives the help we crave.\u201d\n\n  Then joyous Hanum\u00e1n, the best\nOf all the V\u00e1nar kind, addressed\nThese words to R\u00e1ma, trained of yore\nIn all the arts of speakers\u2019 lore:(549)\n\u201cWhy do your feet this forest tread\nBy silvan life inhabited,\nThis awful maze of tree and thorn\nWhich Pamp\u00e1\u2019s flowering groves adorn?\u201d\n\n  He spoke: obedient to the eye\nOf R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47 made reply,\nThe name and fortune to unfold\nOf Raghu\u2019s son the lofty-souled:\n\u201cTrue to the law, of fame unstained,\nThe glorious Da\u015baratha reigned,\nAnd, steadfast in his duty, long\nKept the four castes(550) from scathe and wrong.\nThrough his wide realm his will was done,\nAnd, loved by all, he hated none.\nJust to each creature great and small,\nLike the Good Sire he cared for all.\nThe \u00c1gnish\u1e6dom,(551) as priests advised,\nAnd various rites he solemnized,\nWhere ample largess ever paid\nThe Br\u00e1hmans for their holy aid.\nHere R\u00e1ma stands, his heir by birth,\nWhose name is glorious in the earth:\nSure refuge he of all oppressed,\nMost faithful to his sire\u2019s behest.\nHe, Da\u015baratha\u2019s eldest born\nWhom gifts above the rest adorn,\nLord of each high imperial sign,(552)\nThe glory of his kingly line,\nReft of his right, expelled from home,\nCame forth with me the woods to roam.\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 too, his faithful dame,\nForth with her virtuous husband came,\nLike the sweet light when day is done\nStill cleaving to her lord the sun.\nAnd me his sweet perfections drew\nTo follow as his servant true.\nNamed Lakshma\u1e47, brother of my lord\nOf grateful heart with knowledge stored\nMost meet is he all bliss to share,\nWho makes the good of all his care.\nWhile, power and lordship cast away,\nIn the wild wood he chose to stay,\nA giant came,\u2014his name unknown,\u2014\nAnd stole the princess left alone.\nThen Diti\u2019s son(553) who, cursed of yore,\nThe semblance of a R\u00e1kshas wore,\nTo King Sugr\u00edva bade us turn\nThe robber\u2019s name and home to learn.\nFor he, the V\u00e1nar chief, would know\nThe dwelling of our secret foe.\nSuch words of hope spake Diti\u2019s son,\nAnd sought the heaven his deeds had won.\nThou hast my tale. From first to last\nThine ears have heard whate\u2019er has past.\nR\u00e1ma the mighty lord and I\nFor refuge to Sugr\u00edva fly.\nThe prince whose arm bright glory gained,\nO\u2019er the whole earth as monarch reigned,\nAnd richest gifts to others gave,\nIs come Sugr\u00edva\u2019s help to crave;\nSon of a king the surest friend\nOf virtue, him who loved to lend\nHis succour to the suffering weak,\nIs come Sugr\u00edva\u2019s aid to seek.\nYes, Raghu\u2019s son whose matchless hand\nProtected all this sea-girt land,\nThe virtuous prince, my holy guide,\nFor refuge seeks Sugr\u00edva\u2019s side.\nHis favour sent on great and small\nShould ever save and prosper all.\nHe now to win Sugr\u00edva\u2019s grace\nHas sought his woodland dwelling-place.\nSon of a king of glorious fame;\u2014\nWho knows not Da\u015baratha\u2019s name?\u2014\nFrom whom all princes of the earth\nReceived each honour due to worth;\u2014\nHeir of that best of earthly kings,\nR\u00e1ma the prince whose glory rings\nThrough realms below and earth and skies,\nFor refuge to Sugr\u00edva flies.\nNor should the V\u00e1nar king refuse\nThe boon for which the suppliant sues,\nBut with his forest legions speed\nTo save him in his utmost need.\u201d\n\n  Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, his eyes bedewed\nWith piteous tears, thus sighed and sued.\nThen, trained in all the arts that guide\nThe speaker, Hanum\u00e1n replied:\n\n  \u201cYea, lords like you of wisest thought,\nWhom happy fate has hither brought,\nWho vanquish ire and rule each sense,\nMust of our lord have audience.\nReft of his kingdom, sad, forlorn,\nOnce B\u00e1li\u2019s hate now B\u00e1li\u2019s scorn,\nDefeated, severed from his spouse,\nWandering under forest boughs,\nChild of the Sun, our lord and king\nSugr\u00edva will his succours bring,\nAnd all our V\u00e1nar hosts combined\nWill trace the dame you long to find.\u201d\n\n  With gentle tone and winning grace\nThus spake the chief of V\u00e1nar race,\nAnd then to Raghu\u2019s son he cried:\n\u201cCome, haste we to Sugr\u00edva\u2019s side.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and for his words so sweet\nGood Lakshma\u1e47 paid all honour meet;\nThen turned and cried to Raghu\u2019s son:\n\u201cNow deem thy task already done,\nBecause this chief of V\u00e1nar kind,\nSon of the God who rules the wind,\nDeclares Sugr\u00edva\u2019s self would be\nAssisted in his need by thee.\nBright gleams of joy his cheek o\u2019erspread\nAs each glad word of hope he said;\nAnd ne\u2019er will one so valiant deign\nTo cheer our hearts with hope in vain.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and Hanum\u00e1n the wise\nCast off his mendicant disguise,\nAnd took again his V\u00e1nar form,\nSon of the God of wind and storm.\nHigh on his ample back in haste\nRaghu\u2019s heroic sons he placed,\nAnd turned with rapid steps to find\nThe sovereign of the V\u00e1nar kind.\n\n\n\n\nCanto V. The League.\n\n\nFrom Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s rugged side\nTo Malaya\u2019s hill the V\u00e1nar hied,\nAnd to his royal chieftain there\nAnnounced the coming of the pair:\n\u201cSee, here with Lakshma\u1e47 R\u00e1ma stands\nIllustrious in a hundred lands.\nWhose valiant heart will never quail\nAlthough a thousand foes assail;\nKing Da\u015baratha\u2019s son, the grace\nAnd glory of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race.\nObedient to his father\u2019s will\nHe cleaves to sacred duty still.\nWith rites of royal pomp and pride\nHis sire the Fire-God gratified;\nTen hundred thousand kine he freed,\nAnd priests enriched with ample meed;\nAnd the broad land protected, famed\nFor truthful lips and passions tamed.\nThrough woman\u2019s guile his son has made\nHis dwelling in the forest shade,\nWhere, as he lived with every sense\nSubdued in hermit abstinence,\nFierce R\u00e1va\u1e47 stole his wife, and he\nIs come a suppliant, lord, to thee.\nNow let all honour due be paid\nTo these great chiefs who seek thine aid.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the V\u00e1nar prince, and, stirred\nWith friendly thoughts, Sugr\u00edva heard.\nThe light of joy his face o\u2019erspread,\nAnd thus to Raghu\u2019s son he said:\n\u201cO Prince, in rules of duty trained,\nCaring for all with love unfeigned,\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s tongue has truly shown\nThe virtues that are thine alone.\nMy chiefest glory, gain, and bliss,\nO stranger Prince, I reckon this,\nThat Raghu\u2019s son will condescend\nTo seek the V\u00e1nar for his friend.\nIf thou my true ally wouldst be\nAccept the pledge I offer thee,\nThis hand in sign of friendship take,\nAnd bind the bond we ne\u2019er will break.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and joy thrilled R\u00e1ma\u2019s breast;\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s hand he seized and pressed\nAnd, transport beaming from his eye,\nHeld to his heart his new ally.\nIn wanderer\u2019s weed disguised no more,\nHis proper form Han\u00fam\u00e1n wore.\nThen, wood with wood engendering,(554) came\nNeath his deft hands the kindled flame.\nBetween the chiefs that fire he placed\nWith wreaths of flowers and worship graced.\nAnd round its blazing glory went\nThe friends with slow steps reverent.\n\n  Thus each to other pledged and bound\nIn solemn league new transport found,\nAnd bent upon his dear ally\nThe gaze he ne\u2019er could satisfy.\n\u201cFriend of my soul art thou: we share\nEach other\u2019s joy, each other\u2019s care;\u201d\nThus in the bliss that thrilled his breast\nSugr\u00edva Raghu\u2019s son addressed.\nFrom a high S\u00e1l a branch he tore\nWhich many a leaf and blossom bore,\nAnd the fine twigs beneath them laid\nA seat for him and R\u00e1ma made.\nThen Hanum\u00e1n with joyous mind,\nSon of the God who rules the wind,\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 gave, his seat to be,\nThe gay branch of a Sandal tree.\nThen King Sugr\u00edva with his eyes\nStill trembling with the sweet surprise\nOf the great joy he could not hide,\nTo Raghu\u2019s noblest scion cried:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, racked with woe and fear,\nSpurned by my foes, I wander here.\nReft of my spouse, forlorn I dwell\nHere in my forest citadel.\nOr wild with terror and distress\nRoam through the distant wilderness.\nVext by my brother B\u00e1li long\nMy soul has borne the scathe and wrong.\nDo thou, whose virtues all revere,\nRelease me from my woe and fear.\nFrom dire distress thy friend to free\nIs a high task and worthy thee.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and Raghu\u2019s son who knew\nAll sacred duties men should do.\nThe friend of justice, void of guile,\nThus answered with a gentle smile:\n\u201cGreat V\u00e1nar, friends who seek my aid\nStill find their trust with fruit repaid.\nB\u00e1li, thy foe, who stole away\nThy wife this vengeful hand shall slay.\nThese shafts which sunlike flash and burn,\nWinged with the feathers of the hern,\nEach swift of flight and sure and dread,\nWith even knot and pointed head,\nFierce as the crashing fire-bolt sent\nBy him who rules the firmament,(555)\nShall reach thy wicked foe and like\nInfuriate serpents hiss and strike.\nThou, V\u00e1nar King, this day shalt see\nThe foe who long has injured thee\nLie, like a shattered mountain, low,\nSlain by the tempest of my bow.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spake: Sugr\u00edva heard,\nAnd mighty joy his bosom stirred:\nAs thus his champion he addressed:\n\u201cNow by thy favour, first and best\nOf heroes, shall thy friend obtain\nHis realm and darling wife again\n    Recovered from the foe.\nCheck thou mine elder brother\u2019s might;\nThat ne\u2019er again his deadly spite\nMay rob me of mine ancient right,\n    Or vex my soul with woe.\u201d\nThe league was struck, a league to bring\nTo S\u00edt\u00e1 fiends, and V\u00e1nar king(556)\n    Apportioned bliss and bale.\nThrough her left eye quick throbbings shot,(557)\nGlad signs the lady doubted not,\n    That told their hopeful tale.\nThe bright left eye of B\u00e1li felt\nAn inauspicious throb that dealt\n    A deadly blow that day.\nThe fiery left eyes of the crew\nOf demons felt the throb, and knew\n    The herald of dismay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VI. The Tokens.\n\n\nWith joy that sprang from hope restored\nTo R\u00e1ma spake the V\u00e1nar lord:\n\u201cI know, by wise Han\u00fam\u00e1n taught,\nWhy thou the lonely wood hast sought.\nWhere with thy brother Lakshma\u1e47 thou\nHast sojourned, bound by hermit vow;\nHave heard how S\u00edt\u00e1, Janak\u2019s child,\nWas stolen in the pathless wild,\nHow by a roving R\u00e1kshas she\nWeeping was reft from him and thee;\nHow, bent on death, the giant slew\nThe vulture king, her guardian true,\nAnd gave thy widowed breast to know\nA solitary mourner\u2019s woe.\nBut soon, dear Prince, thy heart shall be\nFrom every trace of sorrow free;\nFor I thy darling will restore,\nLost like the prize of holy lore.(558)\nYea, though in heaven the lady dwell,\nOr prisoned in the depths of hell,\nMy friendly care her way shall track\nAnd bring thy ransomed darling back.\nLet this my promise soothe thy care,\nNor doubt the words I truly swear.\nSaints, fiends, and dwellers of the skies\nShall find thy wife a bitter prize,\nLike the rash child who rues too late\nThe treacherous lure of poisoned cate.\nNo longer, Prince, thy loss deplore:\nThy darling wife will I restore.\n\u2019Twas she I saw: my heart infers\nThat shrinking form was doubtless hers,\nWhich gaint R\u00e1va\u1e47, fierce and dread,\nBore swiftly through the clouds o\u2019erhead\nStill writhing in his strict embrace\nLike helpless queen of serpent race,(559)\nAnd from her lips that sad voice came\nShrieking thine own and Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s name.\nHigh on a hill she saw me stand\nWith comrades twain on either hand.\nHer outer robe to earth she threw,\nAnd with it sent her anklets too.\nWe saw the glittering tokens fall,\nWe found them there and kept them all.\nThese will I bring: perchance thine eyes\nThe treasured spoils will recognize.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: then Raghu\u2019s son replied\nTo the glad tale, and eager cried:\n\u201cBring them with all thy speed: delay\nNo more, dear friend, but haste away.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spoke. Sugr\u00edva hied\nWithin the mountain\u2019s caverned side,\nImpelled by love that stirred each thought\nThe precious tokens quickly brought,\nAnd said to Raghu\u2019s son: Behold\nThis garment and these rings of gold.\nIn R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand with friendly haste\nThe jewels and the robe he placed.\nThen, like the moon by mist assailed,\nThe tear-dimmed eyes of R\u00e1ma failed;\nThat burst of woe unmanned his frame,\nWoe sprung from passion for his dame,\nAnd with his manly strength o\u2019erthrown,\nHe fell and cried, Ah me! mine own!\nAgain, again close to his breast\nThe ornaments and robe he pressed,\nWhile the quick pants that shook his frame\nAs from a furious serpent came.\nOn his dear brother standing nigh\nHe turned at length his piteous eye;\nAnd, while his tears increasing ran,\nIn bitter wail he thus began:\n\u201cLook, brother, and behold once more\nThe ornaments and robe she wore,\nDropped while the giant bore away\nIn cruel arras his struggling prey,\nDropped in some quiet spot, I ween,\nWhere the young grass was soft and green;\nFor still untouched by spot or stain\nTheir former beauty all retain.\u201d\n\n  He spoke with many a tear and sigh,\nAnd thus his brother made reply:\n\u201cThe bracelets thou hast fondly shown,\nAnd earrings, are to me unknown,\nBut by long service taught I greet\nThe anklets of her honoured feet.\u201d(560)\n\n  Then to Sugr\u00edva R\u00e1ma, best\nOf Raghu\u2019s sons, these words addressed:\n\n  \u201cSay to what quarter of the sky\nThe cruel fiend was seen to fly,\nBearing afar my captured wife,\nMy darling dearer than my life.\nSpeak, V\u00e1nar King, that I may know\nWhere dwells the cause of all my woe;\nThe fiend for whose transgression all\nThe giants by this hand shall fall.\nHe who the Maithil lady stole\nAnd kindled fury in my soul,\nHas sought his fate in senseless pride\nAnd opened Death\u2019s dark portal wide.\nThen tell me, V\u00e1nar lord, I pray,\n  The dwelling of my foe,\nAnd he, beneath this hand, to-day\n  To Y\u00e1ma\u2019s halls shall go.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto VII. R\u00e1ma Consoled.\n\n\nWith longing love and woe oppressed\nThe V\u00e1nar chief he thus addressed:\nAnd he, while sobs his utterance broke,\nRaised up his reverent hands and spoke:\n\n  \u201cO Raghu\u2019s son, I cannot tell\nWhere now that cruel fiend may dwell,\nDeclare his power and might, or trace\nThe author of his cursed race.\nStill trust the promise that I make\nAnd let thy breast no longer ache.\nSo will I toil, nor toil in vain,\nThat thou thy consort mayst regain.\nSo will I work with might and skill\nThat joy anew thy heart shall fill:\nThe valour of my soul display,\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 and his legions slay.\nAwake, awake! unmanned no more\nRecall the strength was thine of yore.\nBeseems not men like thee to wear\nA weak heart yielding to despair.\nLike troubles, too, mine eyes have seen,\nLamenting for a long-lost queen;\nBut, by despair unconquered yet,\nMy strength of mind I ne\u2019er forget.\nFar more shouldst thou of lofty soul\nThy passion and thy tears control,\nWhen I, of V\u00e1nar\u2019s humbler strain,\nWeep not for her in ceaseless pain.\nBe firm, be patient, nor forget\nThe bounds the brave of heart have set\nIn loss, in woe, in strife, in fear,\nWhen the dark hour of death is near.\nUp! with thine own brave heart advise:\nNot thus despond the firm and wise.\nBut he who gives his childish heart\nTo choose the coward\u2019s weakling part,\nSinks, like a foundered vessel, deep\nIn waves of woe that o\u2019er him sweep.\nSee, suppliant hand to hand I lay,\nAnd, moved by faithful love, I pray.\nGive way no more to grief and gloom,\nBut all thy native strength resume.\nNo joy on earth, I ween, have they\nWho yield their souls to sorrow\u2019s sway.\nTheir glory fades in slow decline:\n\u2019Tis not for thee to grieve and pine.\nI do but hint with friendly speech\nThe wiser part I dare not teach.\nThis better path, dear friend, pursue,\nAnd let not grief thy soul subdue.\u201d\n\n  Sugr\u00edva thus with gentle art\nAnd sweet words soothed the mourner\u2019s heart,\nWho brushed off with his mantle\u2019s hem\nTears from the eyes bedewed with them.\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s words were not in vain,\nAnd R\u00e1ma was himself again,\nAround the king his arms he threw\nAnd thus began his speech anew:\n\n  \u201cWhate\u2019er a friend most wise and true,\nWho counsels for the best, should do,\nWhate\u2019er his gentle part should be,\nHas been performed, dear friend, by thee.\nTaught by thy counsel, O my lord,\nI feel my native strength restored.\nA friend like thee is hard to gain,\nMost rare in time of grief and pain.\nNow strain thine utmost power to trace\nThe Maithil lady\u2019s dwelling place,\nAnd aid me in my search to find\nFierce R\u00e1va\u1e47 of the impious mind.\nTrust thou, in turn, thy loyal friend,\nAnd say what aid this arm can lend\nTo speed thy hopes, as fostering rain\nQuickens in earth the scattered grain.\nDeem not those words, that seemed to spring\nFrom pride, are false, O V\u00e1nar King.\nNone from these lips has ever heard,\nNone e\u2019er shall hear, one lying word.\nAgain I promise and declare,\nYea, by my truth, dear friend, I swear.\u201d\n\n  Then glad was King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s breast,\nAnd all his lords their joy confessed,\nStirred by sure hope of R\u00e1ma\u2019s aid,\nAnd promise which the prince had made.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Promise.\n\n\nDoubt from Sugr\u00edva\u2019s heart had fled,\nAnd thus to Raghu\u2019s son he said:\n\u201cNo bliss the Gods of heaven deny.\nEach views me with a favouring eye,\nWhen thou, whom all good gifts attend,\nHast sought me and become my friend.\nLeagued, friend, with thee in bold emprise\nMy arm might win the conquered skies;\nAnd shall our banded strength be weak\nTo gain the realm which now I seek?\nA happy fate was mine above\nMy kith and kin and all I love,\nWhen, near the witness fire, I won\nThy friendship, Raghu\u2019s glorious son.\nThou too in ripening time shall see\nThy friend not all unworthy thee.\nWhat gifts I have shall thus be shown:\nNot mine the tongue to make them known.\nStrong is the changeless bond that binds\nThe friendly faith of noble minds,\nIn woe, in danger, firm and sure\nTheir constancy and love endure.\nGold, silver, jewels rich and rare\nThey count as wealth for friends to share.\nYea, be they rich or poor and low,\nBlest with all joys or sunk in woe,\nStained with each fault or pure of blame,\nTheir friends the nearest place may claim;\nFor whom they leave, at friendship\u2019s call,\nTheir gold, their bliss, their homes and all.\u201d\n\n  He spoke by generous impulse moved,\nAnd Raghu\u2019s son his speech approved\nGlancing at Lakshma\u1e47 by his side,\nLike Indra in his beauty\u2019s pride.\nThe V\u00e1nar monarch saw the pair\nOf mighty brothers standing there,\nAnd turned his rapid eye to view\nThe forest trees that near him grew.\nHe saw, not far from where he stood,\nA S\u00e1l tree towering o\u2019er the wood.\nAmid the thick leaves many a bee\nGraced the scant blossoms of the tree,\nFrom whose dark shade a bough, that bore\nA load of leafy twigs, he tore,\nWhich on the grassy ground he laid\nAnd seats for him and R\u00e1ma made.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n saw them sit, he sought\nA S\u00e1l tree\u2019s leafy bough and brought\nThe burthen, and with meek request\nEntreated Lakshma\u1e47, too, to rest.\nThere on the noble mountain\u2019s brow,\nStrewn with the young leaves of the bough,\nSat Raghu\u2019s son in placid ease\nCalm as the sea when sleeps the breeze.\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s heart with rapture swelled,\nAnd thus, by eager love impelled,\nHe spoke in gracious tone, that, oft\nChecked by his joy, was low and soft:\n\u201cI, by my brother\u2019s might oppressed,\nBy ceaseless woe and fear distressed,\nMourning my consort far away,\nOn Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s mountain stray.\nExpelled by B\u00e1li\u2019s cruel hate\nI wander here disconsolate.\nDo thou to whom all sufferers flee,\nFrom his dread hand deliver me.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and R\u00e1ma, just and brave,\nWhose pious soul to virtue clave,\nSmiled as in conscious might he eyed\nThe king of V\u00e1nars, and replied:\n\u201cBest fruit of friendship is the deed\nThat helps the friend in hour of need;\nAnd this mine arm in death shall lay\nThy robber ere the close of day.\nFor see, these feathered darts of mine\nWhose points so fiercely flash and shine,\nAnd shafts with golden emblem, came\nFrom dark woods known by Skanda\u2019s name,(561)\nWinged from the pinion of the hern\nLike Indra\u2019s bolts they strike and burn.\nWith even knots and piercing head\nEach like a furious snake is sped;\nWith these, to-day, before thine eye\nShall, like a shattered mountain, lie\nB\u00e1li, thy dread and wicked foe,\nO\u2019erwhelmed in hideous overthrow.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: Sugr\u00edva\u2019s bosom swelled\nWith hope and joy unparalleled.\nThen his glad voice the V\u00e1nar raised,\nAnd thus the son of Raghu praised:\n\u201cLong have I pined in depth of grief;\nThou art the hope of all, O chief.\nNow, Raghu\u2019s son, I hail thee friend,\nAnd bid thee to my woes attend;\nFor, by my truth I swear it, now\nNot life itself is dear as thou,\nSince by the witness fire we met\nAnd friendly hand in hand was set.\nFriend communes now with friend, and hence\nI tell with surest confidence,\nHow woes that on my spirit weigh\nConsume me through the night and day.\u201d\n\n  For sobs and sighs he scarce could speak,\nAnd his sad voice came low and weak,\nAs, while his eyes with tears o\u2019erflowed,\nThe burden of his soul he showed.\nThen by strong effort, bravely made,\nThe torrent of his tears he stayed,\nWiped his bright eyes, his grief subdued,\nAnd thus, more calm, his speech renewed:\n\n  \u201cBy B\u00e1li\u2019s conquering might oppressed,\nOf power and kingship dispossessed,\nLoaded with taunts of scorn and hate\nI left my realm and royal state.\nHe tore away my consort: she\nWas dearer than my life to me,\nAnd many a friend to me and mine\nIn hopeless chains was doomed to pine.\nWith wicked thoughts, unsated still,\nMe whom he wrongs he yearns to kill;\nAnd spies of V\u00e1nar race, who tried\nTo slay me, by this hand have died.\nMoved by this constant doubt and fear\nI saw thee, Prince, and came not near.\nWhen woe and peril gather round\nA foe in every form is found.\nSave Hanum\u00e1n, O Raghu\u2019s son,\nAnd these, no friend is left me, none.\nThrough their kind aid, a faithful band\nWho guard their lord from hostile hand,\nRest when their chieftain rests and bend\nTheir steps where\u2019er he lists to wend,\u2014\nThrough them alone, in toil and pain,\nMy wretched life I still sustain.\nEnough, for thou hast heard in brief\nThe story of my pain and grief.\nHis mighty strength all regions know,\nMy brother, but my deadly foe.\nAh, if the proud oppressor fell,\nHis death would all my woe dispel.\nYea, on my cruel conqueror\u2019s fall\nMy joy depends, my life, my all.\nThis were the end and sure relief,\nO R\u00e1ma, of my tale of grief.\nFair be his lot or dark with woe,\nNo comfort like a friend I know.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma spoke: \u201cO friend, relate\nWhence sprang fraternal strife and hate,\nThat duly taught by thee, I may\nEach foeman\u2019s strength and weakness weigh:\nAnd skilled in every chance restore\nThe blissful state thou hadst before.\nFor, when I think of all the scorn\nAnd bitter woe thou long hast borne,\nMy soul indignant swells with pain\nLike waters flushed with furious rain.\nThen, ere I string this bended bow,\nTell me the tale I long to know,\nEre from the cord my arrow fly,\nAnd low in death thy foeman lie.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: Sugr\u00edva joyed to hear,\nNor less his lords were glad of cheer:\nAnd thus to R\u00e1ma mighty-souled\nThe cause that moved their strife he told:\n\n\n\n\nCanto IX. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Story.(562)\n\n\n\u201cMy brother, known by B\u00e1li\u2019s name,\nHad won by might a conqueror\u2019s fame.\nMy father\u2019s eldest-born was he,\nWell honoured by his sire and me.\nMy father died, and each sage lord\nNamed B\u00e1li king with one accord;\nAnd he, by right of birth ordained,\nThe sovereign of the V\u00e1nars reigned.\nHe in his royal place controlled\nThe kingdom of our sires of old,\nAnd I all faithful service lent\nTo aid my brother\u2019s government.\nThe fiend M\u00e1y\u00e1v\u00ed,\u2014him of yore\nTo Dundubhi(563) his mother bore,\u2014\nFor woman\u2019s love in strife engaged,\nA deadly war with B\u00e1li waged.\nWhen sleep had chained each weary frame\nTo vast Kishkindh\u00e1(564) gates he came,\nAnd, shouting through the shades of night,\nChallenged his foeman to the fight.\nMy brother heard the furious shout,\nAnd wild with rage rushed madly out,\nThough fain would I and each sad wife\nDetain him from the deadly strife.\nHe burned his demon foe to slay,\nAnd rushed impetuous to the fray.\nHis weeping wives he thrust aside,\nAnd forth, impelled by fury, hied;\nWhile, by my love and duty led,\nI followed where my brother sped.\nM\u00e1y\u00e1v\u00ed looked, and at the sight\nFled from his foes in wild affright.\nThe flying fiend we quickly viewed,\nAnd with swift feet his steps pursued.\nThen rose the moon, whose friendly ray\nCast light upon our headlong way.\nBy the soft beams was dimly shown\nA mighty cave with grass o\u2019ergrown.\nWithin its depths he sprang, and we\nThe demon\u2019s form no more might see.\nMy brother\u2019s breast was all aglow\nWith fury when he missed the foe,\nAnd, turning, thus to me he said\nWith senses all disquieted:\n\u201cHere by the cavern\u2019s mouth remain;\nKeep ear and eye upon the strain,\nWhile I the dark recess explore\nAnd dip my brand in foeman\u2019s gore.\u201d\nI heard his angry speech, and tried\nTo turn him from his plan aside.\nHe made me swear by both his feet,\nAnd sped within the dark retreat.\nWhile in the cave he stayed, and I\nWatched at the mouth, a year went by.\nFor his return I looked in vain,\nAnd, moved by love, believed him slain.\nI mourned, by doubt and fear distressed,\nAnd greater horror seized my breast\nWhen from the cavern rolled a flood,\nA carnage stream of froth and blood;\nAnd from the depths a sound of fear,\nThe roar of demons, smote mine ear;\nBut never rang my brother\u2019s shout\nTriumphant in the battle rout.\nI closed the cavern with a block,\nHuge as a hill, of shattered rock.\nGave offerings due to B\u00e1li\u2019s shade,\nAnd sought Kishkindh\u00e1, sore dismayed.\nLong time with anxious care I tried\nFrom B\u00e1li\u2019s lords his fate to hide,\nBut they, when once the tale was known,\nPlaced me as king on B\u00e1li\u2019s throne.\nThere for a while I justly reigned\nAnd all with equal care ordained,\nWhen joyous from the demon slain\nMy brother B\u00e1li came again.\nHe found me ruling in his stead,\nAnd, fired with rage, his eyes grew red.\nHe slew the lords who made me king,\nAnd spoke keen words to taunt and sting.\nThe kingly rank and power I held\nMy brother\u2019s rage with ease had quelled,\nBut still, restrained by old respect\nFor claims of birth, the thought I checked.\nThus having struck the demon down\nCame B\u00e1li to his royal town.\nWith meek respect, with humble speech,\nHis haughty heart I strove to reach.\nBut all my arts were tried in vain,\nNo gentle word his lips would deign,\nThough to the ground I bent and set\nHis feet upon my coronet:\nStill B\u00e1li in his rage and pride\nAll signs of grace and love denied.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto X. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Story.\n\n\n\u201cI strove to soothe and lull to rest\nThe fury of his troubled breast:\n\u201cWell art thou come, dear lord,\u201d I cried.\n\u201cBy whose strong arm thy foe has died.\nForlorn I languished here, but now\nMy saviour and defence art thou.\nOnce more receive this regal shade(565)\nLike the full moon in heaven displayed;\nAnd let the chouries,(566) thus restored,\nWave glorious o\u2019er the rightful lord.\nI kept my watch, thy word obeyed,\nAnd by the cave a year I stayed.\nBut when I saw that stream of blood\nRush from the cavern in a flood,\nMy sad heart broken with dismay,\nAnd every wandering sense astray,\nI barred the entrance with a stone,\u2014\nA crag from some high mountain thrown\u2014\nTurned from the spot I watched in vain,\nAnd to Kishkindh\u00e1 came again.\nMy deep distress and downcast mien\nBy citizen and lord were seen.\nThey made me king against my will:\nForgive me if the deed was ill.\nTrue as I ever was I see\nMy honoured king once more in thee;\nI only ruled a while the state\nWhen thou hadst left us desolate.\nThis town with people, lords, and lands,\nLay as a trust in guardian hands:\nAnd now, my gracious lord, accept\nThe kingdom which thy servant kept.\nForgive me, victor of the foe,\nNor let thy wrath against me glow.\nSee joining suppliant hands I pray,\nAnd at thy feet my head I lay.\nBelieve my words: against my will\nThe royal seat they made me fill.\nUnkinged they saw the city, hence\nThey made me lord for her defence.\u201d\n\n  But B\u00e1li, though I humbly sued,\nReviled me in his furious mood:\n\u201cOut on thee, wretch!\u201d in wrath he cried\nWith many a bitter taunt beside.\nHe summoned every lord, and all\nHis subjects gathered at his call.\nThen forth his burning anger broke,\nAnd thus amid his friends he spoke:\n\u201cI need not tell, for well ye know,\nHow fierce M\u00e1y\u00e1v\u00ed, fiend and foe,\nCame to Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s gate by night,\nAnd dared me in his wrath to fight.\nI heard each word the demon said:\nForth from my royal hall I sped;\nAnd, foe in brother\u2019s guise concealed,\nSugr\u00edva followed to the field.\nThe mighty demon through the shade\nBeheld me come with one to aid:\nThen shrinking from unequal fight,\nHe turned his back in swiftest flight.\nFrom vengeful foes his life to save\nHe sought the refuge of a cave.\nThen when I saw the fiend had fled\nWithin that cavern dark and dread,\nThus to my brother cruel-eyed,\nImpatient in my wrath, I cried:\n\u201cI seek no more my royal town\nTill I have struck the demon down.\nHere by the cavern\u2019s mouth remain\nUntil my hand the foe have slain.\u201d\nUpon his faith my heart relied,\nAnd swift within the depths I hied.\nA year went by: in every spot\nI sought the fiend, but found him not.\nAt length my foe I saw and slew,\nWhom long I feared when lost to view;\nAnd all his kinsmen by his side\nBeneath my vengeful fury died.\nThe monster, as he reeled and fell,\nPoured forth his blood with roar and yell;\nAnd, filling all the cavern, dyed\nThe portal with the crimson tide.\nUpon my foeman slain at last\nOne look, one pitying look, I cast.\nI sought again the light of day:\nThe cave was closed and left no way.\nTo the barred mouth I sadly came,\nAnd called aloud Sugr\u00edva\u2019s name.\nBut all was still: no voice replied,\nAnd hope within my bosom died.\nWith furious efforts, vain at first,\nThrough bars of rock my way I burst.\nThen, free once more, the path that brought\nMy feet in safety home I sought.\n\u2019Twas thus Sugr\u00edva dared despise\nThe claim of brothers\u2019 friendly ties.\nWith crags of rock he barred me in,\nAnd for himself the realm would win.\u201d\n\n  Thus B\u00e1li spoke in words severe;\nAnd then, unmoved by ruth or fear,\nLeft me a single robe and sent\nHis brother forth in banishment.\nHe cast me out with scathe and scorn,\nAnd from my side my wife was torn.\nNow in great fear and ill at ease\nI roam this land with woods and seas,\nOr dwell on Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s hill,\nAnd sorrow for my consort still.\nThou hast the tale how first arose\nThis bitter hate of brother foes.\nSuch are the griefs neath which I pine,\nAnd all without a fault of mine.\nO swift to save in hour of fear,\nMy prayer who dread this B\u00e1li, hear\nWith gracious love assistance deign,\nAnd mine oppressor\u2019s arm restrain.\u201d\n\n  Then Raghu\u2019s son, the good and brave,\nWith a gay laugh his answer gave:\n\u201cThese shafts of mine which ne\u2019er can fail,\nBefore whose sheen the sun grows pale,\nWinged by my fury, fleet and fierce,\nThe wicked B\u00e1li\u2019s heart shall pierce.\nYea, mark the words I speak, so long\nShall live that wretch who joys in wrong,\nUntil these angered eyes have seen\nThe robber of thy darling queen.\nI, taught by equal suffering, know\nWhat waves of grief above thee flow.\nThis hand thy captive wife shall free,\nAnd give thy kingdom back to thee.\u201d\n\n  Sugr\u00edva joyed as R\u00e1ma spoke,\nAnd valour in his breast awoke.\nHis eye grew bright, his heart grew bold,\nAnd thus his wondrous tale he told:\n\n\n\n\nCanto XI. Dundubhi.\n\n\n\u201cI doubt not, Prince, thy peerless might,\nArmed with these shafts so keen and bright,\nLike all-destroying fires of fate,\nThe worlds could burn and devastate.\nBut lend thou first thy mind and ear\nOf B\u00e1li\u2019s power and might to hear.\nHow bold, how firm, in battle tried,\nIs B\u00e1li\u2019s heart; and then decide.\nFrom east to west, from south to north\nOn restless errand hurrying forth,\nFrom farthest sea to sea he flies\nBefore the sun has lit the skies.\nA mountain top he oft will seek,\nTear from its root a towering peak,\nHurl it aloft, as \u2019twere a ball,\nAnd catch it ere to earth it fall.\nAnd many a tree that long has stood\nIn health and vigour in the wood,\nHis single arm to earth will throw,\nThe marvels of his might to show.\nShaped like a bull, a monster bore\nThe name of Dundubhi of yore:\nHe matched in size a mountain height,\nA thousand elephants in might.\nBy pride of wondrous gifts impelled,\nAnd strength he deemed unparalleled,\nTo Ocean, lord of stream and brook,\nAthirst for war, his way he took.\nHe reached the king of rolling waves\nWhose gems are piled in sunless caves,\nAnd threw his challenge to the sea;\n\u201cCome forth, O King, and fight with me.\u201d\nHe spoke, and from his ocean bed\nThe righteous(567) monarch heaved his head,\nAnd gave, sedate, his calm reply\nTo him whom fate impelled to die:\n\u201cNot mine, not mine the power,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cTo cope with thee in battle tried;\nBut listen to my voice, and seek\nThe worthier foe of whom I speak.\nThe Lord of Hills, where hermits live\nAnd love the home his forests give,\nWhose child is \u015aankar\u2019s darling queen,(568)\nThe King of Snows is he I mean.\nDeep caves has he, and dark boughs shade\nThe torrent and the wild cascade.\nFrom him expect the fierce delight\nWhich heroes feel in equal fight.\u201d\n\n  He deemed that fear checked ocean\u2019s king,\nAnd, like an arrow from the string,\nTo the wild woods that clothe the side\nOf Lord Him\u00e1laya\u2019s hills he hied.\nThen Dundubhi, with hideous roar,\nHuge fragments from the summit tore\nVast as Air\u00e1vat,(569) white with snow,\nAnd hurled them to the plains below.\nThen like a white cloud soft, serene,\nThe Lord of Mountains\u2019 form was seen.\nIt sat upon a lofty crest,\nAnd thus the furious fiend addressed:\n\u201cBeseems thee not, O virtue\u2019s friend,\nMy mountain tops to rive and rend;\nFor I, the hermit\u2019s calm retreat,\nFor deeds of war am all unmeet.\u201d\n\n  The demon\u2019s eye with rage grew red,\nAnd thus in furious tone he said:\n\u201cIf thou from fear or sloth decline\nTo match thy strength in war with mine,\nWhere shall I find a champion, say,\nTo meet me burning for the fray?\u201d\nHe spoke: Him\u00e1laya, skilled in lore\nOf eloquence, replied once more,\nAnd, angered in his righteous mind,\nAddressed the chief of demon kind:\n\u201cThe V\u00e1nar B\u00e1li, brave and wise,\nSon of the God who rules the skies,(570)\nSways, glorious in his high renown,\nKishkindh\u00e1 his imperial town.\nWell may that valiant lord who knows\nEach art of war his might oppose\nTo thine, in equal battle set,\nAs Namuehi(571) and Indra met.\nGo, if thy soul desire the fray;\nTo B\u00e1li\u2019s city speed away,\nAnd that unconquered hero meet\nWhose fame is high for warlike feat.\u201d\nHe listened to the Lord of Snow,\nAnd, his proud heart with rage aglow,\nSped swift away and lighted down\nBy vast Kishkindh\u00e1, B\u00e1li\u2019s town.\nWith pointed horns to strike and gore\nThe semblance of a bull he bore,\nHuge as a cloud that downward bends\nEre the full flood of rain descends.\nImpelled by pride and rage and hate,\nHe thundered at Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s gate;\nAnd with his bellowing, like the sound\nOf pealing drums, he shook the ground,\nHe rent the earth and prostrate threw\nThe trees that near the portal grew.\nKing B\u00e1li from the bowers within\nIndignant heard the roar and din.\nThen, moonlike mid the stars, with all\nHis dames he hurried to the wall;\nAnd to the fiend this speech, expressed\nIn clear and measured words, addressed:\n\u201cKnow me for monarch. B\u00e1li styled,\nOf V\u00e1nar tribes that roam the wild.\nSay why dost thou this gate molest,\nAnd bellowing thus disturb our rest?\nI know thee, mighty fiend: beware\nAnd guard thy life with wiser care.\u201d\nHe spoke: and thus the fiend returned,\nWhile red with rage his eyeballs burned:\n\u201cWhat! speak when all thy dames are nigh\nAnd hero-like thy foe defy?\nCome, meet me in the fight this day,\nAnd learn my strength by bold assay.\nOr shall I spare thee, and relent\nUntil the coming night be spent?\nTake then the respite of a night\nAnd yield thee to each soft delight.\nThen, monarch of the V\u00e1nar race\nWith loving arms thy friends embrace.\nGifts on thy faithful lords bestow,\nBid each and all farewell, and go.\nShow in the streets once more thy face,\nInstall thy son to fill thy place.\nDally a while with each dear dame;\nAnd then my strength thy pride shall tame\nFor, should I smite thee drunk with wine\nEnamoured of those dames of thine,\nBeneath diseases bowed and bent,\nOr weak, unarmed, or negligent,\nMy deed would merit hate and scorn\nAs his who slays the child unborn.\u201d\nThen B\u00e1li\u2019s soul with rage was fired,\nQueen T\u00e1ra and the dames retired;\nAnd slowly, with a laugh of pride,\nThe king of V\u00e1nars thus replied:\n\u201cMe, fiend, thou deemest drunk with wine:\nUnless thy fear the fight decline,\nCome, meet me in the fray, and test\nThe spirit of my valiant breast.\u201d\nHe spoke in wrath and high disdain;\nAnd, laying down his golden chain,\nGift of his sire Mahendra, dared\nThe demon, for the fray prepared;\nSeized by the horns the monster, vast\nAs a huge hill, and held him fast,\nThen fiercely dragged him round and round,\nAnd, shouting, hurled him to the ground.\nBlood streaming from his ears, he rose,\nAnd wild with fury strove the foes.\nThen B\u00e1li, match for Indra\u2019s might,\nWith every arm renewed the fight.\nHe fought with fists, and feet, and knees,\nWith fragments of the rock, and trees.\nAt last the monster\u2019s strength, assailed\nBy \u015aakra\u2019s(572) conquering offspring, failed.\nHim B\u00e1li raised with mighty strain\nAnd dashed upon the ground again;\nWhere, bruised and shattered, in a tide\nOf rushing blood, the demon died.\nKing B\u00e1li saw the lifeless corse,\nAnd bending, with tremendous force\nRaised the huge bulk from where it lay,\nAnd hurled it full a league away.\nAs through the air the body flew,\nSome blood-drops, caught by gales that blew,\nWelled from his shattered jaw and fell\nBy Saint Matanga\u2019s hermit cell:\nMatanga saw, illustrious sage,\nThose drops defile his hermitage,\nAnd, as he marvelled whence they came,\nFierce anger filled his soul with flame:\n\u201cWho is the villain, evil-souled,\nWith childish thoughts unwise and bold,\nWho is the impious wretch,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cBy whom my grove with blood is dyed?\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke Matanga in his rage,\nAnd hastened from the hermitage,\nWhen lo, before his wondering eyes\nLay the dead bull of mountain size.\nHis hermit soul was nothing slow\nThe doer of the deed to know,\nAnd thus the V\u00e1nar in a burst\nOf wild tempestuous wrath he cursed:\n\u201cNe\u2019er let that V\u00e1nar wander here,\nFor, if he come, his death is near,\nWhose impious hand with blood has dyed\nThe holy place where I abide,\nWho threw this demon corse and made\nA ruin of the pleasant shade.\nIf e\u2019er he plant his wicked feet\nWithin one league of my retreat;\nYea, if the villain come so nigh\nThat very hour he needs must die.\nAnd let the V\u00e1nar lords who dwell\nIn the dark woods that skirt my cell\nObey my words, and speeding hence\nFind them some meeter residence.\nHere if they dare to stay, on all\nThe terrors of my curse shall fall.\nThey spoil the tender saplings, dear\nAs children which I cherish here,\nMar root and branch and leaf and spray,\nAnd steal the ripening fruit away.\nOne day I grant, no further hour,\nTo-morrow shall my curse have power,\nAnd then each V\u00e1nar I may see\nA stone through countless years shall be.\u201d\nThe V\u00e1nars heard the curse and hied\nFrom sheltering wood and mountain side.\nKing B\u00e1li marked their haste and dread,\nAnd to the flying leaders said:\n\u201cSpeak, V\u00e1nar chiefs, and tell me why\nFrom Saint Matanga\u2019s grove ye fly\nTo gather round me: is it well\nWith all who in those woodlands dwell?\u201d\nHe spoke: the V\u00e1nar leaders told\nKing B\u00e1li with his chain of gold\nWhat curse the saint had on them laid,\nWhich drove them from their ancient shade.\nThen royal B\u00e1li sought the sage,\nWith reverent hands to soothe his rage.\nThe holy man his suppliant spurned,\nAnd to his cell in anger turned.\nThat curse on B\u00e1li sorely pressed,\nAnd long his conscious soul distressed.\nHim still the curse and terror keep\nAfar from Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s steep.\nHe dares not to the grove draw nigh,\nNay scarce will hither turn his eye.\nWe know what terrors warm him hence,\nAnd roam these woods in confidence.\nLook, Prince, before thee white and dry\nThe demon\u2019s bones uncovered lie,\nWho, like a hill in bulk and length,\nFell ruind for his pride of strength.\nSee those high S\u00e1l trees seven in row\nThat droop their mighty branches low,\nThese at one grasp would B\u00e1li seize,\nAnd leafless shake the trembling trees.\nThese tales I tell, O Prince, to show\nThe matchless power that arms the foe.\nHow canst thou hope to slay him? how\nMeet B\u00e1li in the battle now?\u201d\n\n  Sugr\u00edva spoke and sadly sighed:\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 with a laugh replied:\n\u201cWhat show of power, what proof and test\nMay still the doubts that fill thy breast?\u201d\n\n  He spoke. Sugr\u00edva thus replied:\n\u201cSee yonder S\u00e1l trees side by side.\nKing B\u00e1li here would take his stand\nGrasping his bow with vigorous hand,\nAnd every arrow, keen and true,\nWould strike its tree and pierce it through.\nIf R\u00e1ma now his bow will bend,\nAnd through one trunk an arrow send;\nOr if his arm can raise and throw\nTwo hundred measures of his bow,\nGrasped by a foot and hurled through air,\nThe demon bull that moulders there,\nMy heart will own his might and fain\nBelieve my foe already slain.\u201d\n\n  Sugr\u00edva spoke inflamed with ire,\nScanned R\u00e1ma with a glance of fire,\nPondered a while in silent mood.\nAnd thus again his speech renewed:\n\u201cAll lands with B\u00e1li\u2019s glories ring,\nA valiant, strong, and mighty king;\nIn conscious power unused to yield,\nA hero first in every field.\nHis wondrous deeds his might declare,\nDeeds Gods might scarcely do or dare;\nAnd on this power reflecting still\nI roam on Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s hill.\nAwed by my brother\u2019s might I rove,\nIn doubt and fear, from grove to grove,\nWhile Hanum\u00e1n, my chosen friend,\nAnd faithful lords my steps attend;\nAnd now, O true to friendship\u2019s tie,\nI hail in thee my best ally.\nMy surest refuge from my foes,\nAnd steadfast as the Lord of Snows.\nStill, when I muse how strong and bold\nIs cruel B\u00e1li, evil-souled,\nBut ne\u2019er, O chief of Raghu\u2019s line,\nHave seen what strength in war is thine,\nThough in my heart I may not dare\nDoubt thy great might, despise, compare,\nThoughts of his fearful deeds will rise\nAnd fill my soul with sad surmise.\nSpeech, form, and trust which naught may move\nThy secret strength and glory prove,\nAs smouldering ashes dimly show\nThe dormant fires that live below.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and R\u00e1ma answered, while\nPlayed o\u2019er his lips a gracious smile:\n\u201cNot yet convinced? This clear assay\nShall drive each lingering doubt away.\u201d\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke his heart to cheer,\nTo Dundubhi\u2019s vast frame drew near:\nHe touched it with his foot in play\nAnd sent it twenty leagues away.\nSugr\u00edva marked what easy force\nHurled through the air that demon\u2019s corse\nWhose mighty bones were white and dried,\nAnd to the son of Raghu cried:\n\u201cMy brother B\u00e1li, when his might\nWas drunk and weary from the fight,\nHurled forth the monster body, fresh\nWith skin and sinews, blood and flesh.\nNow flesh and blood are dried away,\nThe crumbling bones are light as hay,\nWhich thou, O Raghu\u2019s son, hast sent\nFlying through air in merriment.\nThis test alone is weak to show\nIf thou be stronger or the foe.\nBy thee a heap of mouldering bone,\nBy him the recent corse was thrown.\nThy strength, O Prince, is yet untried:\nCome, pierce one tree: let this decide.\nPrepare thy ponderous bow and bring\nClose to thine ear the straining string.\nOn yonder S\u00e1l tree fix thine eye,\nAnd let the mighty arrow fly,\nI doubt not, chief, that I shall see\nThy pointed shaft transfix the tree.\nThen come, assay the easy task,\nAnd do for love the thing I ask.\n  Best of all lights, the Day-God fills\n    With glory earth and sky:\n  Him\u00e1laya is the lord of hills\n    That heave their heads on high.\n  The royal lion is the best\n    Of beasts that tread the earth;\n  And thou, O hero, art confessed\n    First in heroic worth.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XII. The Palm Trees.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, that his friend might know\nHis strength unrivalled, grasped his bow,\nThat mighty bow the foe\u2019s dismay,\u2014\nAnd on the string an arrow lay.\nNext on the tree his eye he bent,\nAnd forth the hurtling weapon went.\nLoosed from the matchless hero\u2019s hold,\nThat arrow, decked with burning gold,\nCleft the seven palms in line, and through\nThe hill that rose behind them flew:\nSix subterranean realms it passed,\nAnd reached the lowest depth at last,\nWhence speeding back through earth and air\nIt sought the quiver, and rested there.(573)\nUpon the cloven trees amazed,\nThe sovereign of the V\u00e1nars gazed.\nWith all his chains and gold outspread\nProstrate on earth he laid his head.\nThen, rising, palm to palm he laid\nIn reverent act, obeisance made,\nAnd joyously to R\u00e1ma, best\nOf war-trained chiefs, these words addressed:\n\n  \u201cWhat champion, Raghu\u2019s son, may hope\nWith thee in deadly fight to cope,\nWhose arrow, leaping from the bow,\nCleaves tree and hill and earth below?\nScarce might the Gods, arrayed for strife\nBy Indra\u2019s self, escape, with life\nAssailed by thy victorious hand:\nAnd how may B\u00e1li hope to stand?\nAll grief and care are past away,\nAnd joyous thoughts my bosom sway,\nWho have in thee a friend, renowned,\nAs Varu\u1e47(574) or as Indra, found.\nThen on! subdue,\u2014\u2019tis friendship\u2019s claim,\u2014\nMy foe who bears a brother\u2019s name.\nStrike B\u00e1li down beneath thy feet:\nWith suppliant hands I thus entreat.\u201d\nSugr\u00edva ceased, and R\u00e1ma pressed\nThe grateful V\u00e1nar to his breast;\nAnd thoughts of kindred feeling woke\nIn Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s bosom, as he spoke:\n\u201cOn to Kishkindh\u00e1, on with speed!\nThou, V\u00e1nar King, our way shalt lead,\nThen challenge B\u00e1li forth to fight.\nThy foe who scorns a brother\u2019s right.\u201d\n\n  They sought Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s gate and stood\nConcealed by trees in densest wood,\nSugr\u00edva, to the fight addressed,\nMore closely drew his cinctured vest,\nAnd raised a wild sky-piercing shout\nTo call the foeman B\u00e1li out.\n\n  Forth came impetuous B\u00e1li, stirred\nTo fury by the shout he heard.\nSo the great sun, ere night has ceased,\nSprings up impatient to the east.\nThen fierce and wild the conflict raged\nAs hand to hand the foes engaged,\nAs though in battle mid the stars\nFought Mercury and fiery Mars.(575)\nTo highest pitch of frenzy wrought\nWith fists like thunderbolts they fought,\nWhile near them R\u00e1ma took his stand,\nAnd viewed the battle, bow in hand.\nAlike they stood in form and might,\nLike heavenly A\u015bvins(576) paired in fight,\nNor might the son of Raghu know\nWhere fought the friend and where the foe;\nSo, while his bow was ready bent,\nNo life-destroying shaft he sent.\nCrushed down by B\u00e1li\u2019s mightier stroke\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s force now sank and broke,\nWho, hoping naught from R\u00e1ma\u2019s aid,\nTo Rishyam\u00faka fled dismayed,\nWeary, and faint, and wounded sore,\nHis body bruised and dyed with gore,\nFrom B\u00e1li\u2019s blows, in rage and dread,\nAfar to sheltering woods he fled.\n\n  Nor B\u00e1li farther dared pursue,\nThe curbing curse too well he knew.\n\u201cFled from thy death!\u201d the victor cried,\nAnd home the mighty warrior hied.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n, Lakshma\u1e47, Raghu\u2019s son\nBeheld the conquered V\u00e1nar run,\nAnd followed to the sheltering shade\nWhere yet Sugr\u00edva stood dismayed.\nNear and more near the chieftains came,\nThen, for intolerable shame,\nNot daring yet to lift his eyes,\nSugr\u00edva spoke with burning sighs:\n\u201cThy matchless strength I first beheld,\nAnd dared my foe, by thee impelled.\nWhy hast thou tried me with deceit\nAnd urged me to a sure defeat?\nThou shouldst have said, \u201cI will not slay\nThy foeman in the coming fray.\u201d\nFor had I then thy purpose known\nI had not waged the fight alone.\u201d\n\n  The V\u00e1nar sovereign, lofty-souled,\nIn plaintive voice his sorrows told.\nThen R\u00e1ma spake: \u201cSugr\u00edva, list,\nAll anger from thy heart dismissed,\nAnd I will tell the cause that stayed\nMine arrow, and withheld the aid.\nIn dress, adornment, port, and height,\nIn splendour, battle-shout, and might,\nNo shade of difference could I see\nBetween thy foe, O King, and thee.\nSo like was each, I stood at gaze,\nMy senses lost in wildering maze,\nNor loosened from my straining bow\nA deadly arrow at the foe,\nLest in my doubt the shaft should send\nTo sudden death our surest friend.\nO, if this hand in heedless guilt\nAnd rash resolve thy blood had spilt,\nThrough every land, O V\u00e1nar King,\nMy wild and foolish act would ring.\nSore weight of sin on him must lie\nBy whom a friend is made to die;\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, I, and S\u00edt\u00e1, best\nOf dames, on thy protection rest.\nOn, warrior! for the fight prepare;\nNor fear again thy foe to dare.\nWithin one hour thine eye shall view\nMy arrow strike thy foeman through;\nShall see the stricken B\u00e1li lie\nLow on the earth, and gasp and die.\nBut come, a badge about thee bind,\nO monarch of the V\u00e1nar kind,\nThat in the battle shock mine eyes\nThe friend and foe may recognize.\nCome, Lakshma\u1e47, let that creeper deck\nWith brightest bloom Sugr\u00edva\u2019s neck,\nAnd be a happy token, twined\nAround the chief of lofty mind.\u201d\n\n  Upon the mountain slope there grew\nA threading creeper fair to view,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 plucked the bloom and round\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s neck a garland wound.\nGraced with the flowery wreath he wore,\nThe V\u00e1nar chief the semblance bore\nOf a dark cloud at close of day\nEngarlanded with cranes at play,\nIn glorious light the V\u00e1nar glowed\nAs by his comrade\u2019s side he strode,\nAnd, still on R\u00e1ma\u2019s word intent,\nHis steps to great Kishkindh\u00e1 bent.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIII. The Return To Kishkindh\u00e1.\n\n\nThus with Sugr\u00edva, from the side\nOf Rishyam\u00faka, R\u00e1ma hied,\nAnd stood before Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s gate\nWhere B\u00e1li kept his regal state.\nThe hero in his warrior hold\nRaised his great bow adorned with gold,\nAnd drew his pointed arrow bright\nAs sunbeams, finisher of fight.\nStrong-necked Sugr\u00edva led the way\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 mighty in the fray.\nNala and N\u00edla came behind\nWith Hanum\u00e1n of lofty mind,\nAnd valiant T\u00e1ra, last in place,\nA leader of the V\u00e1nar race.\nThey gazed on many a tree that showed\nThe glory of its pendent load,\nAnd brook and limpid rill that made\nSweet murmurs as they seaward strayed.\nThey looked on caverns dark and deep,\nOn bower and glen and mountain steep,\nAnd saw the opening lotus stud\nWith roseate cup the crystal flood,\nWhile crane and swan and coot and drake\nMade pleasant music on the lake,\nAnd from the reedy bank was heard\nThe note of many a happy bird.\nIn open lawns, in tangled ways,\nThey saw the tall deer stand at gaze,\nOr marked them free and fearless roam,\nFed with sweet grass, their woodland home.\nAt times two flashing tusks between\nThe wavings of the wood were seen,\nAnd some mad elephant, alone,\nLike a huge moving hill, was shown.\nAnd scarcely less in size appeared\nGreat monkeys all with dust besmeared.\nAnd various birds that roam the skies,\nAnd silvan creatures, met their eyes,\nAs through the wood the chieftains sped,\nAnd followed where Sugr\u00edva led.\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, as their way they made,\nSaw near at hand a lovely shade,\nAnd, as he gazed upon the trees,\nSpake to Sugr\u00edva words like these;\n\u201cThose stately trees in beauty rise,\nFair as a cloud in autumn skies.\nI fain, my friend, would learn from thee\nWhat pleasant grove is that I see.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spake, the mighty souled;\nAnd thus his tale Sugr\u00edva told:\n\n  \u201cThat, R\u00e1ma, is a wide retreat\nThat brings repose to weary feet.\nBright streams and fruit and roots are there,\nAnd shady gardens passing fair.\nThere, neath the roof of hanging boughs,\nThe sacred Seven maintained their vows.\nTheir heads in dust were lowly laid,\nIn streams their nightly beds were made.\nEach seventh night they broke their fast,\nBut air was still their sole repast,\nAnd when seven hundred years were spent\nTo homes in heaven the hermits went.\nTheir glory keeps the garden yet,\nWith walls of stately trees beset.\nScarce would the Gods and demons dare,\nBy Indra led, to enter there.\nNo beast that roams the wood is found,\nNo bird of air, within the bound;\nOr, thither if they idly stray,\nThey find no more their homeward way.\nYou hear at times mid dulcet tones\nThe chime of anklets, rings, and zones.\nYou hear the song and music sound,\nAnd heavenly fragrance breathes around,\nThere duly burn the triple fires(577)\nWhere mounts the smoke in curling spires,\nAnd, in a dun wreath, hangs above\nThe tall trees, like a brooding dove.\nRound branch and crest the vapours close\nTill every tree enveloped shows\nA hill of lazulite when clouds\nHang round it with their misty shrouds.\nWith Lakshma\u1e47, lord of Raghu\u2019s line,\nIn reverent guise thine head incline,\nAnd with fixt heart and suppliant hand\nGive honour to the sainted band.\nThey who with faithful hearts revere\nThe holy Seven who harboured here,\nShall never, son of Raghu, know\nIn all their lives an hour of woe.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma and his brother bent,\nAnd did obeisance reverent\nWith suppliant hand and lowly head,\nThen with Sugr\u00edva onward sped.\nBeyond the sainted Seven\u2019s abode\nFar on their way the chieftains strode,\nAnd great Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s portal gained,\nThe royal town where B\u00e1li reigned.\nThen by the gate they took their stand\nAll ready armed a noble band,\n  And burning every one\nTo slay in battle, hand to hand,\n  Their foeman, Indra\u2019s son.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIV. The Challenge.\n\n\nThey stood where trees of densest green\nWove round their forms a veiling screen.\nO\u2019er all the garden\u2019s pleasant shade\nThe eyes of King Sugr\u00edva strayed,\nAnd, as on grass and tree he gazed,\nThe fires of wrath within him blazed.\nThen like a mighty cloud on high,\nWhen roars the tempest through the sky,\nGirt by his friends he thundered out\nHis dread sky-rending battle-shout\nLike some proud lion in his gait,\nOr as the sun begins his state,\nSugr\u00edva let his quick glance rest\nOn R\u00e1ma whom he thus addressed:\n\u201cThere is the seat of B\u00e1li\u2019s sway,\nWhere flags on wall and turret play,\nWhich mighty bands of V\u00e1nars hold,\nRich in all arms and store of gold.\nThy promise to thy mind recall\nThat B\u00e1li by thy hand shall fall.\nAs kindly fruits adorn the bough.\nSo give my hopes their harvest now.\u201d\n\n  In suppliant tone the V\u00e1nar prayed,\nAnd Raghu\u2019s son his answer made:\n\u201cBy Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s hand this flowery twine\nWas wound about thee for a sign.\nThe wreath of giant creeper throws\nAbout thy form its brillant glows,\nAs though about the sun were set\nThe bright stars for a coronet.\nOne shaft of mine this day, dear friend,\nThy sorrow and thy fear shall end.\nAnd, from the bowstring freed, shall be\nGiver of freedom, King, to thee.\nThen come, Sugr\u00edva, quickly show,\nWhere\u2019er he lie, thy bitter foe;\nAnd let my glance the wretch descry\nWhose deeds, a brother\u2019s name belie.\nYea, soon in dust and blood o\u2019erthrown\nShall B\u00e1li fall and gasp and groan.\nOnce let this eye the foeman see,\nThen, if he live to turn and flee,\nDespise my puny strength, and shame\nWith foul opprobrium R\u00e1ma\u2019s name.\nHast thou not seen his hand, O King,\nThrough seven tall trees one arrow wing?\nStill in that strength securely trust,\nAnd deem thy foeman in the dust.\nIn all my days, though surely tried\nBy grief and woe, I ne\u2019er have lied;\nAnd still by duty\u2019s law restrained\nWill ne\u2019er with falsehood\u2019s charge be stained.\nCast doubt away: the oath I sware\nIts kindly fruit shall quickly bear,\nAs smiles the land with golden grain\nBy mercy of the Lord of rain.\nOh, warrior to the gate I defy\nThy foe with shout and battle-cry,\nTill B\u00e1li with his chain of gold\nCome speeding from his royal hold.\nProud hearts, with warlike fire aglow,\nBrook not the challenge of a foe:\nEach on his power and might relies,\nAnd most before his ladies eyes.\nKing B\u00e1li loves the fray too well\nTo linger in his citadel,\nAnd, when he hears thy battle-shout,\nAll wild for war will hasten out.\u201d\n\n  He spoke. Sugr\u00edva raised a cry\nThat shook and rent the echoing sky,\nA shout so fierce and loud and dread\nThat stately bulls in terror fled,\nLike dames who fly from threatened stain\nIn some ignoble monarch\u2019s reign.\nThe deer in wild confusion ran\nLike horses turned in battle\u2019s van.\nDown fell the birds, like Gods who fall\nWhen merits fail,(578) at that dread call.\nSo fiercely, boldened for the fray,\nThe offspring of the Lord of Day\nSent forth his furious shout as loud\nAs thunder from a labouring cloud,\nOr, where the gale blows fresh and free,\nThe roaring of the troubled sea.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XV. T\u00e1r\u00e1.\n\n\nThat shout, which shook the land with fear,\nIn thunder smote on B\u00e1li\u2019s ear,\nWhere in the chamber barred and closed\nThe sovereign with his dame reposed.\nEach amorous thought was rudely stilled,\nAnd pride and rage his bosom filled.\nHis angry eyes flashed darkly red,\nAnd all his native brightness fled,\nAs when, by swift eclipse assailed,\nThe glory of the sun has failed.\nWhile in his fury uncontrolled\nHe ground his teeth, his eyeballs rolled,\nHe seemed a lake wherein no gem\nOf blossom decks the lotus stem.\nHe heard, and with indignant pride\nForth from the bower the V\u00e1nar hied.\nAnd the earth trembled at the beat\nAnd fury of his hastening feet.\nBut T\u00e1r\u00e1 to her consort flew,\nHer loving arms around him threw,\nAnd trembling and bewildered, gave\nWise counsel that might heal and save:\n\u201cO dear my lord, this rage control\nThat like a torrent floods thy soul,\nAnd cast these idle thoughts away\nLike faded wreath of yesterday,\nO tarry till the morning light,\nThen, if thou wilt, go forth and fight.\nThink not I doubt thy valour, no;\nOr deem thee weaker than thy foe,\nYet for a while would have thee stay\nNor see thee tempt the fight to-day.\nNow list, my loving lord, and learn\nThe reason why I bid thee turn.\nThy foeman came in wrath and pride,\nAnd thee to deadly fight defied.\nThou wentest out: he fought, and fled\nSore wounded and discomfited.\nBut yet, untaught by late defeat,\nHe comes his conquering foe to meet,\nAnd calls thee forth with cry and shout:\nHence spring, my lord, this fear and doubt.\nA heart so bold that will not yield,\nBut yearns to tempt the desperate field,\nSuch loud defiance, fiercely pressed,\nOn no uncertain hope can rest.\nSo lately by thine arm o\u2019erthrown,\nHe comes not back, I ween, alone.\nSome mightier comrade guards his side,\nAnd spurs him to this burst of pride.\nFor nature made the V\u00e1nar wise:\nOn arms of might his hope relies;\nAnd never will Sugr\u00edva seek\nA friend whose power to save is weak.\nNow listen while my lips unfold\nThe wondrous tale my Angad told.\nOur child the distant forest sought,\nAnd, learnt from spies, the tidings brought.\nTwo sons of Da\u015baratha, sprung\nFrom old Ikshv\u00e1ku, brave and young,\nRenowned in arms, in war untamed\u2014\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 are they named\u2014\nHave with thy foe Sugr\u00edva made\nA league of love and friendly aid.\nNow R\u00e1ma, famed for exploit high,\nIs bound thy brother\u2019s firm ally,\nLike fires of doom(579) that ruin all\nHe makes each foe before him fall.\nHe is the suppliant\u2019s sure defence,\nThe tree that shelters innocence.\nThe poor and wretched seek his feet:\nIn him the noblest glories meet.\nWith skill and knowledge vast and deep\nHis sire\u2019s commands he loved to keep;\nWith princely gifts and graces stored\nAs metals deck the Mountains\u2019 Lord.(580)\nThou canst not, O my hero, stand\nBefore the might of R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand;\nFor none may match his powers or dare\nWith him in deeds of war compare.\nHear, I entreat, the words I say,\nNor lightly turn my rede away.\nO let fraternal discord cease,\nAnd link you in the bonds of peace.\nLet consecrating rites ordain\nSugr\u00edva partner of thy reign.\nLet war and thoughts of conflict end,\nAnd be thou his and R\u00e1ma\u2019s friend,\nEach soft approach of love begin,\nAnd to thy soul thy brother win;\nFor whether here or there he be,\nThy brother still, dear lord, is he.\nThough far and wide these eyes I strain\nA friend like him I seek in vain.\nLet gentle words his heart incline,\nAnd gifts and honours make him thine,\nTill, foes no more, in love allied,\nYou stand as brothers side by side.\nThou in high rank wast wont to hold\nSugr\u00edva, formed in massive mould;\nThen come, thy brother\u2019s love regain,\nFor other aids are weak and vain.\nIf thou would please my soul, and still\nPreserve me from all fear and ill,\nI pray thee by thy love be wise\nAnd do the thing which I advise.\nAssuage thy fruitless wrath, and shun\nThe mightier arms of Raghu\u2019s son;\nFor Indra\u2019s peer in might is he,\nA foe too strong, my lord, for thee.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVI. The Fall Of B\u00e1li.\n\n\nThus T\u00e1r\u00e1 with the starry eyes(581)\nHer counsel gave with burning sighs.\nBut B\u00e1li, by her prayers unmoved,\nSpurned her advice, and thus reproved:\n\u201cHow may this insult, scathe, and scorn\nBy me, dear love, be tamely born?\nMy brother, yea my foe, comes nigh\nAnd dares me forth with shout and cry.\nLearn, trembler! that the valiant, they\nWho yield no step in battle fray,\nWill die a thousand deaths but ne\u2019er\nAn unavenged dishonour bear.\nNor, O my love, be thou dismayed\nThough R\u00e1ma lend Sugr\u00edva aid,\nFor one so pure and duteous, one\nWho loves the right, all sin will shun,\nRelease me from thy soft embrace,\nAnd with thy dames thy steps retrace:\nEnough already, O mine own,\nOf love and sweet devotion shown.\nDrive all thy fear and doubt away;\nI seek Sugr\u00edva in the fray\nHis boisterous rage and pride to still,\nAnd tame the foe I would not kill.\nMy fury, armed with brandished trees,\nShall strike Sugr\u00edva to his knees:\nNor shall the humbled foe withstand\nThe blows of my avenging hand,\nWhen, nerved by rage and pride, I beat\nThe traitor down beneath my feet.\nThou, love, hast lent thine own sweet aid,\nAnd all thy tender care displayed;\nNow by my life, by these who yearn\nTo serve thee well, I pray thee turn.\nBut for a while, dear dame, I go\nTo come triumphant o\u2019er the foe.\u201d\n\n  Thus B\u00e1li spake in gentlest tone:\nSoft arms about his neck were thrown;\nThen round her lord the lady went\nWith sad steps slow and reverent.\nShe stood in solemn guise to bless\nWith prayers for safety and success,\nThen with her train her chamber sought\nBy grief and racking fear distraught.\n\n  With serpent\u2019s pantings fierce and fast\nKing B\u00e1li from the city passed.\nHis glance, as each quick breath he drew,\nAround to find the foe he threw,\nAnd saw where fierce Sugr\u00edva showed\nHis form with golden hues that glowed,\nAnd, as a fire resplendent, stayed\nTo meet his foe in arms arrayed.\nWhen B\u00e1li, long-armed chieftain, found\nSugr\u00edva stationed on the ground,\nImpelled by warlike rage he braced\nHis warrior garb about his waist,\nAnd with his mighty arm raised high\nRushed at Sugr\u00edva with a cry.\nBut when Sugr\u00edva, fierce and bold,\nSaw B\u00e1li with his chain of gold,\nHis arm he heaved, his hand he closed,\nAnd face to face his foe opposed.\nTo him whose eyes with fury shone,\nIn charge impetuous rushing on,\nSkilled in each warlike art and plan,\nB\u00e1li with hasty words began:\n\u201cMy ponderous hand, to fight addressed\nWith fingers clenched and arm compressed\nShall on thy death doomed brow descend\nAnd, crashing down, thy life shall end.\u201d\nHe spoke; and wild with rage and pride,\nThe fierce Sugr\u00edva thus replied:\n\u201cThus let my arm begin the strife\nAnd from thy body crush the life.\u201d\n\n  Then B\u00e1li, wounded and enraged,\nWith furious blows the battle waged.\nSugr\u00edva seemed, with blood-streams dyed,\nA hill with fountains in his side.\nBut with his native force unspent\nA S\u00e1l tree from the earth he rent,\nAnd like the bolt of Indra smote\nOn B\u00e1li\u2019s head and chest and throat.\nBruised by the blows he could not shield,\nHalf vanquished B\u00e1li sank and reeled,\nAs sinks a vessel with her freight\nBorne down by overwhelming weight.\nSwift as Supar\u1e47a\u2019s(582) swiftest flight\nIn awful strength they rushed to fight:\nSo might the sun and moon on high\nEncountering battle in the sky.\nFierce and more fierce, as fought the foes,\nThe furious rage of combat rose.\nThey warred with feet and arms and knees,\nWith nails and stones and boughs and trees,\nAnd blows descending fast as rain\nDyed each dark form with crimson stain,\nWhile like two thunder-clouds they met\nWith battle-cry and shout and threat.\nThen R\u00e1ma saw Sugr\u00edva quail,\nMarked his worn strength grow weak and fail.\nSaw how he turned his wistful eye\nTo every quarter of the sky.\nHis friend\u2019s defeat he could not brook,\nBent on his shaft an eager look,\nThen burned to slay the conquering foe,\nAnd laid his arrow on the bow.\nAs to an orb the bow he drew\nForth from the string the arrow flew\nLike Fate\u2019s tremendous discus hurled\nBy Y\u00e1ma(583) forth to end the world.\nSo loud the din that every bird\nThe bow-string\u2019s clans with terror heard,\nAnd wildly fled the affrighted deer\nAs though the day of doom were near.\nSo, deadly as the serpent\u2019s fang,\nForth from the string the arrow sprang.\nLike the red lightning\u2019s flash and flame\nIt flew unerring to its aim,\nAnd, hissing murder through the air,\nPierced B\u00e1li\u2019s breast, and quivered there.\nStruck by the shaft that flew so well\nThe mighty V\u00e1nar reeled and fell,\nAs earthward Indra\u2019s flag they pull\nWhen A\u015bv\u00edn\u00ed\u2019s fair moon is full.(584)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVII. B\u00e1li\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nLike some proud tree before the blast\nBrave B\u00e1li to the ground was cast,\nWhere prostrate in the dust he rolled\nClad in the sheen of glistening gold,\nAs when uptorn the standard lies\nOf the great God who rules the skies.\nWhen low upon the earth was laid\nThe lord whom V\u00e1nar tribes obeyed,\nDark as a moonless sky no more\nHis land her joyous aspect wore.\nThough low in dust and mire was rolled\nThe form of B\u00e1li lofty-souled,\nStill life and valour, might and grace\nClung to their well-loved dwelling-place.\nThat golden chain with rich gems set,\nThe choicest gift of S\u00e1kra,(585) yet\nPreserved his life nor let decay\nSteal strength and beauty\u2019s light away.\nStill from that chain divinely wrought\nHis dusky form a glory caught,\nAs a dark cloud, when day is done,\nMade splendid by the dying sun.\nAs fell the hero, crushed in fight,\nThere beamed afar a triple light\nFrom limbs, from chain, from shaft that drank\nHis life-blood as the warrior sank.\nThe never-failing shaft, impelled\nBy the great bow which R\u00e1ma held,\nBrought bliss supreme, and lit the way\nTo Brahm\u00e1\u2019s worlds which ne\u2019er decay.(586)\n\n  R\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 nearer drew\nThe mighty fallen foe to view,\nMahendra\u2019s son, the brave and bold,\nThe monarch with his chain of gold,\nWith lustrous face and tawny eyes,\nBroad chest, and arms of wondrous size,\nLike Lord Mahendra fierce in fight,\nOr Vish\u1e47u\u2019s never-conquered might,\nNow fallen like Yay\u00e1ti(587) sent\nFrom heaven, his store of merit spent,\nLike the bright flame that pales and dies,\nLike the great sun who fires the skies,\nDoomed in the general doom to fall\nWhen time shall end and ruin all.\n\n  The wounded B\u00e1li, when he saw\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 nearer draw,\nKeen words to Raghu\u2019s son, impressed\nWith justice\u2019 holy stamp, addressed:\n\n  \u201cWhat fame, from one thou hast not slain\nIn front of battle, canst thou gain,\nWhose secret hand has laid me low\nWhen madly fighting with my foe?\nFrom every tongue thy glory rings,\nA scion of a line of kings,\nTrue to thy vows, of noblest race,\nWith every gentle gift and grace:\nWhose tender heart for woe can feel,\nAnd joy in every creature\u2019s weal:\nWhose breast with high ambition swells,\nKnows duty\u2019s claim and ne\u2019er rebels.\nThey praise thy valour, patience, ruth,\nThy firmness, self-restraint, and truth:\nThy hand prepared for sin\u2019s control,\nAll virtues of a princely soul.\nI thought of all these gifts of thine,\nAnd glories of an ancient line,\nI set my T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s tears at naught,\nI met Sugr\u00edva and we fought.\nO R\u00e1ma, till this fatal morn\nI held that thou wouldst surely scorn\nTo strike me as I fought my foe\nAnd thought not of a stranger\u2019s blow,\nBut now thine evil heart is shown,\nA yawning well with grass o\u2019ergrown.\nThou wearest virtue\u2019s badge,(588) but guile\nAnd meanest sin thy soul defile.\nI took thee not for treacherous fire,\nA sinner clad in saint\u2019s attire;\nNor deemed thou idly wouldst profess\nThe show and garb of righteousness.\nIn fenced town, in open land,\nNe\u2019er hast thou suffered at this hand,\nNor canst of proud contempt complain:\nThen wherefore is the guiltless slain?\nMy harmless life in woods I lead,\nOn forest fruits and roots I feed.\nMy foeman in the field I sought,\nAnd ne\u2019er with thee, O R\u00e1ma, fought.\nUpon thy limbs, O King, I see\nThe raiment of a devotee;\nAnd how can one like thee, who springs\nFrom a proud line of ancient kings,\nBeneath fair virtue\u2019s mask, disgrace\nHis lineage by a deed so base?\nFrom Raghu is thy long descent,\nFor duteous deeds pr\u00ebeminent:\nWhy, sinner clad in saintly dress,\nRoamest thou through the wilderness?\nTruth, valour, justice free from spot,\nThe hand that gives and grudges not,\nThe might that strikes the sinner down,\nThese bring a prince his best renown.\nHere in the woods, O King, we live\nOn roots and fruit which branches give.(589)\nThus nature framed our harmless race:\nThou art a man supreme in place.\nSilver and gold and land provoke\nThe fierce attack, the robber\u2019s stroke,\nCanst thou desire this wild retreat,\nThe berries and the fruit we eat?\n\u2019Tis not for mighty kings to tread\nThe flowery path, by pleasure led.\nTheirs be the arm that crushes sin,\nTheirs the soft grace to woo and win:\nThe steadfast will that guides the state,\nWise favour to the good and great;\nAnd for all time are kings renowned\nWho blend these arts and ne\u2019er confound.\nBut thou art weak and swift to ire,\nUnstable, slave of each desire.\nThou tramplest duty in the dust,\nAnd in thy bow is all thy trust.\nThou carest naught for noble gain,\nAnd treatest virtue with disdain,\nWhile every sense its captive draws\nTo follow pleasure\u2019s changing laws.\nI wronged thee not in word or deed,\nBut by thy deadly dart I bleed.\nWhat wilt thou, mid the virtuous, say\nTo purge thy lasting stain away?\nAll these, O King, must sink to hell,\nThe regicide, the infidel,\nHe who in blood and slaughter joys,\nA Br\u00e1hman or a cow destroys,\nUntimely weds in law\u2019s despite\nScorning an elder brother\u2019s right,(590)\nWho dares his Teacher\u2019s bed ascend,\nThe miser, spy, and treacherous friend.\nThese impious wretches, one and all,\nMust to the hell of sinners fall.\nMy skin the holy may not wear,\nUseless to thee my bones and hair;\nNor may my slaughtered body be\nThe food of devotees like thee.\nThese five-toed things a man may slay\nAnd feed upon the fallen prey;\nThe mailed rhinoceros may die,\nAnd, with the hare his food supply.\nIguanas he may kill and eat,\nWith porcupine and tortoise meat.(591)\nBut all the wise account it sin\nTo touch my bones and hair and skin.\nMy flesh they may not eat; and I\nA useless prey, O R\u00e1ma, die.\nIn vain my T\u00e1r\u00e1 reasoned well,\nOn dull deaf ears her counsel fell.\nI scorned her words though sooth and sweet,\nAnd hither rushed my fate to meet.\nAh for the land thou rulest! she\nFinds no protection, lord, from thee,\nNeglected like some noble dame\nBy a vile husband dead to shame.\nMean-hearted coward, false and vile,\nWhose cruel soul delights in guile,\nCould Da\u015baratha, noblest king,\nBeget so mean and base a thing?\nAlas! an elephant, in form\nOf R\u00e1ma, in a maddening storm\nOf passion casting to the ground\nThe girth of law(592) that clipped him round,\nToo wildly passionate to feel\nThe prick of duty\u2019s guiding steel,(593)\nHas charged me unawares, and dead\nI fall beneath his murderous tread.\nHow, stained with this my base defeat,\nHow wilt thou dare, where good men meet,\nTo speak, when every tongue will blame\nWith keen reproach this deed of shame?\nSuch hero strength and valour, shown\nUpon the innocent alone,\nThou hast not proved in manly strife\nOn him who robbed thee of thy wife.\nHadst thou but fought in open field\nAnd met me boldly unconcealed,\nThis day had been thy fate to fall,\nSlain by this hand, to Y\u00e1ma\u2019s hall.\nIn vain I strove, and struck by thee\nFell by a hand I could not see.\nThus bites a snake, for sins of yore,\nA sleeping man who wakes no more.\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s foeman thou hast killed,\nAnd thus his heart\u2019s desire fulfilled;\nBut, R\u00e1ma, hadst thou sought me first,\nAnd told the hope thy soul has nursed,\nThat very day had I restored\nThe Maithil lady to her lord;\nAnd, binding R\u00e1va\u1e47 with a chain,\nHad laid him at thy feet unslain.\nYea, were she sunk in deepest hell,\nOr whelmed beneath the ocean\u2019s swell,\nI would have followed on her track\nAnd brought the rescued lady back,\nAs Hayagr\u00edva(594) once set free\nFrom hell the white A\u015bvatar\u00ed.(595)\nThat when my spirit wings its flight\nSugr\u00edva reign, is just and right.\nBut most unjust, O King, that I,\nSlain by thy treacherous hand, should lie.\nBe still, my heart: this earthly state\nIs darkly ruled by sovereign Fate.\nThe realm is lost and won: defy\nThy questioners with apt reply.\u201d(596)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Reply.\n\n\nHe ceased: and R\u00e1ma\u2019s heart was stirred\nAt every keen reproach he heard.\nThere B\u00e1li lay, a dim dark sun,\nHis course of light and glory run:\nOr like the bed of Ocean dried\nOf his broad floods from side to side,\nOr helpless, as the dying fire,\nHushed his last words of righteous ire.\nThen R\u00e1ma, with his spirit moved,\nThe V\u00e1nar king in turn reproved:\n\u201cWhy dost thou, B\u00e1li, thus revile,\nAnd castest not a glance the while\nOn claims of duty, love, and gain,\nAnd customs o\u2019er the world that reign?\nWhy dost thou blame me, rash and blind,\nFickle as all thy V\u00e1nar kind,\nSlighting each rule of ancient days\nWhich all the good and prudent praise?\nThis land, each hill and woody chase,\nBelongs to old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race:\nWith bird and beast and man, the whole\nIs ours to cherish and control.\nNow Bharat, prompt at duty\u2019s call,\nWise, just, and true, is lord of all.\nEach claim of law, love, gain he knows,\nAnd wrath and favour duly shows.\nA king from truth who never bends,\nAnd grace with vigour wisely blends;\nWith valour worthy of his race,\nHe knows the claims of time and place.\nNow we and other kings of might,\nBy his ensample taught aright,\nThe lands of every region tread\nThat justice may increase and spread.\nWhile royal Bharat, wise and just,\nRules the broad earth, his glorious trust,\nWho shall attempt, while he is lord,\nA deed by Justice held abhorred?\nWe now, as Bharat has decreed,\nLet justice guide our every deed,\nAnd toil each sinner to repress\nWho scorns the way of righteousness.\nThou from that path hast turned aside,\nAnd virtue\u2019s holy law defied,\nLeft the fair path which kings should tread,\nAnd followed pleasure\u2019s voice instead.\nThe man who cleaves to duty\u2019s law\nRegards these three with filial awe\u2014\nThe sire, the elder brother, third\nHim from whose lips his lore he heard.\nThus too, for duty\u2019s sake, the wise\nRegard with fond paternal eyes\nThe well-loved younger brother, one\nTheir lore has ripened, and a son.\nFine are the laws which guide the good,\nAbstruse, and hardly understood;\nOnly the soul, enthroned within\nThe breast of each, knows right from sin.\nBut thou art wild and weak of soul,\nAnd spurnest, like thy race, control;\nThe true and right thou canst not find,\nThe blind consulting with the blind.\nIncline thine ear and I will teach\nThe cause that prompts my present speech.\nThis tempest of thy soul assuage,\nNor blame me in thine idle rage.\nOn this great sin thy thoughts bestow,\nThe sin for which I lay thee low.\nThou, B\u00e1li, in thy brother\u2019s life\nHast robbed him of his wedded wife,\nAnd keepest, scorning ancient right,\nHis Rum\u00e1 for thine own delight.\nThy son\u2019s own wife should scarcely be\nMore sacred in thine eyes than she.\nAll duty thou hast scorned, and hence\nComes punishment for dire offence.\nFor those who blindly do amiss\nThere is, I ween, no way but this:\nTo check the rash who dare to stray\nFrom customs which the good obey,\nI may not, sprung of Kshatriya line,\nForgive this heinous sin of thine:\nThe laws for those who sin like thee\nThe penalty of death decree.\nNow Bharat rules with sovereign sway,\nAnd we his royal word obey.\nThere was no hope of pardon, none,\nFor the vile deed that thou hast done,\nThat wisest monarch dooms to die\nThe wretch whose crimes the law defy;\nAnd we, chastising those who err,\nHis righteous doom administer.\nMy soul accounts Sugr\u00edva dear\nE\u2019en as my brother Lakshma\u1e47 here.\nHe brings me blessing, and I swore\nHis wife and kingdom to restore:\nA bond in solemn honour bound\nWhen V\u00e1nar chieftains stood around.\nAnd can a king like me forsake\nHis friend, and plighted promise break?\nReflect, O V\u00e1nar, on the cause,\nThe sanction of eternal laws,\nAnd, justly smitten down, confess\nThou diest for thy wickedness.\nBy honour was I bound to lend\nAssistance to a faithful friend;\nAnd thou hast met a righteous fate\nThy former sins to expiate.\nAnd thus wilt thou some merit win\nAnd make atonement for thy sin.\nFor hear me, V\u00e1nar King, rehearse\nWhat Manu(597) spake in ancient verse,\u2014\nThis holy law, which all accept\nWho honour duty, have I kept:\n\u201cPure grow the sinners kings chastise,\nAnd, like the virtuous, gain the skies;\nBy pain or full atonement freed,\nThey reap the fruit of righteous deed,\nWhile kings who punish not incur\nThe penalties of those who err.\u201d\nM\u00e1ndh\u00e1t\u00e1(598) once, a noble king,\nLight of the line from which I spring,\nPunished with death a devotee\nWhen he had stooped to sin like thee;\nAnd many a king in ancient time\nHas punished frantic sinners\u2019 crime,\nAnd, when their impious blood was spilt,\nHas washed away the stain of guilt.\nCease, B\u00e1li, cease: no more complain:\nReproaches and laments are vain,\nFor thou art justly punished: we\nObey our king and are not free.\nOnce more, O B\u00e1li, lend thine ear\nAnother weightiest plea to hear.\nFor this, when heard and pondered well,\nWill all complaint and rage dispel.\nMy soul will ne\u2019er this deed repent,\nNor was my shaft in anger sent.\nWe take the silvan tribes beset\nWith snare and trap and gin and net,\nAnd many a heedless deer we smite\nFrom thickest shade, concealed from sight.\nWild for the slaughter of the game,\nAt stately stags our shafts we aim.\nWe strike them bounding scared away,\nWe strike them as they stand at bay,\nWhen careless in the shade they lie,\nOr scan the plain with watchful eye.\nThey turn away their heads; we aim,\nAnd none the eager hunter blame.\nEach royal saint, well trained in law\nOf duty, loves his bow to draw\nAnd strike the quarry, e\u2019en as thou\nHast fallen by mine arrow now,\nFighting with him or unaware,\u2014\nA V\u00e1nar thou.\u2014I little care.(599)\nBut yet, O best of V\u00e1nars, know\nThat kings who rule the earth bestow\nFruit of pure life and virtuous deed,\nAnd lofty duty\u2019s hard-won meed.\nHarm not thy lord the king: abstain\nFrom act and word that cause him pain;\nFor kings are children of the skies\nWho walk this earth in men\u2019s disguise.\nBut thou, in duty\u2019s claims untaught,\nThy breast with blinding passion fraught,\nAssailest me who still have clung\nTo duty, with thy bitter tongue.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and B\u00e1li sore distressed\nThe sovereign claims of law confessed,\nAnd freed, o\u2019erwhelmed with woe and shame,\nThe lord of Raghu\u2019s race from blame.\nThen, reverent palm to palm applied,\nTo R\u00e1ma thus the V\u00e1nar cried:\n\u201cTrue, best of men, is every word\nThat from thy lips these ears have heard,\nIt ill beseems a wretch like me\nTo bandy empty words with thee.\nForgive the angry taunts that broke\nFrom my wild bosom as I spoke.\nAnd lay not to my charge, O King,\nMy mad reproaches\u2019 idle sting.\nThou, in the truth by trial trained,\nBest knowledge of the right hast gained:\nAnd layest, just and pure within,\nThe meetest penalty on sin.\nThrough every bond of law I burst,\nThe boldest sinner and the worst.\nO let thy right-instructing speech\nConsole my heart and wisely teach.\u201d\n\n  Like some sad elephant who stands\nFast sinking in the treacherous sands,\nThus B\u00e1li raised despairing eyes;\nThen spake again with sobs and sighs:\n\n  \u201cNot for myself, O King, I grieve,\nFor T\u00e1r\u00e1 or the friends I leave,\nAs for sweet Angad, my dear son,\nMy noble, only little one.\nFor, nursed in luxury and bliss,\nHis father he will mourn and miss,\nAnd like a stream whose fount is dry\nWill waste away and sink and die,\u2014\nMy own dear child, my only boy,\nHis mother T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s hope and joy.\nSpare him, O son of Raghu, spare\nThe child entrusted to thy care.\nMy Angad and Sugr\u00edva treat\nE\u2019en as thy heart considers meet,\nFor thou, O chief of men, art strong\nTo guard the right and punish wrong.\nO, if thou wilt thine ear incline\nTo hear these dying words of mine,\nHe and Sugr\u00edva will to thee\nAs Bharat and as Lakshma\u1e47 be.\nLet not my T\u00e1r\u00e1, left forlorn,\nWeep for Sugr\u00edva\u2019s wrathful scorn;\nNor let him, for her lord\u2019s offence,\nCondemn her faithful innocence.\nAnd well and wisely may he reign\nIf thy dear grace his power sustain:\nIf, following thee his friend and guide,\nHe turn not from thy hest aside:\nThus may he reign with glory, nay\nThus to the skies will win his way.\nThough stayed by T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s fond recall,\nBy thy dear hand I longed to fall.\nAgainst my brother rushed and fought,\nAnd gained the death I long have sought.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma thus the prince consoled\nFrom whose clear eyes the mists were rolled:\n\u201cGrieve not for those thou leavest thus,\nNor tremble for thyself or us,\nFor we will deal with thine and thee\nAs duty and the laws decree.\nHe who exacts and he who pays,\nIs justly slain or justly slays,\nShall in the life to come have bliss;\nFor each has done his task in this.\nThou, wandering from the right, art made\nPure by the forfeit thou hast paid.\nThy weight of sins is cast aside,\nAnd duty\u2019s claim is satisfied.\nThen grieve no more, O Prince, but clear\nThy bosom from all doubt and fear,\nFor fate, inexorably stern,\nThou hast no power to move or turn.\nThy princely Angad still will share\nMy tender love, Sugr\u00edva\u2019s care;\nAnd to thy offspring shall be shown\nAffection that shall match thine own.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIX. T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s Grief.\n\n\nNo answer gave the V\u00e1nar king\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s prudent counselling.\nBattered and bruised by tree and stone,\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s arrow overthrown,\nFainting upon the ground he lay,\nGasping his troubled life away.\n\n  But T\u00e1r\u00e1 in the V\u00e1nar\u2019s hall\nHeard tidings of her husband\u2019s fall;\nHeard that a shaft from R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow\nHad laid the royal B\u00e1li low.\nHer darling Angad by her side,\nDistracted from her home she hied.\nThen nigh the place of battle drew\nThe V\u00e1nars, Angad\u2019s retinue.\nThey saw the bow-armed R\u00e1ma: dread\nFell on them, and they turned and fled.\nLike helpless deer, their leaders slain,\nSo wildly fled the startled train.\nBut T\u00e1r\u00e1 saw, and nearer pressed,\nAnd thus the flying band addressed:\n\u201cO V\u00e1nars, ye who ever stand\nAbout our king, a trusty band,\nWhere is the lion master? why\nForsake ye thus your lord and fly?\nSay, lies he dead upon the plain,\nA brother by a brother slain,\nOr pierced by shafts from R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow\nThat rain from far upon the foe?\u201d\n\n  Thus T\u00e1r\u00e1 questioned, and was still:\nThen, wearers of each shape at will,\nThe V\u00e1nars thus with one accord\nAnswered the Lady of their lord:\n\u201cTurn, T\u00e1r\u00e1 turn, and half undone\nSave Angad thy beloved son.\nThere R\u00e1ma stands in death\u2019s disguise,\nAnd conquered B\u00e1li faints and dies.\nHe by whose strong arm, thick and fast,\nUprooted trees and rocks were cast,\nLies smitten by a shaft that came\nResistless as the lightning flame.\nWhen he, whose splendour once could vie\nWith Indra\u2019s, regent of the sky,\nFell by that deadly arrow, all\nThe V\u00e1nars fled who marked his fall.\nLet all our chiefs their succours bring,\nAnd Angad be anointed king;\nFor all who come of V\u00e1nar race\nWill serve him set in B\u00e1li\u2019s place.\nOr else our conquering foes to-day\nWithin our wall will force their way,\nPolluting with their hostile feet\nThe chambers of thy loved retreat.\nGreat fear is on us, all and one.\nThose who have wives and who have none,\nThey lust for power, are fierce and bold,\nOr hate us for the strife of old.\u201d\n\n  She heard their speech as, sore afraid,\nArrested in their flight, they stayed,\nAnd gave her answer as became\nThe spirit of so true a dame:\n\u201cNay, what have I to do with pelf,\nWith son, with kingdom, or with self,\nWhen he, my noble lord, who leads\nThe V\u00e1nars like a lion, bleeds?\nHis high-souled victor will I meet,\nAnd throw me prostrate at his feet.\u201d\n\n  She hastened forth, her bosom rent\nWith anguish, weeping as she went,\nAnd striking, mastered by her woes,\nHer head and breast with frantic blows.\nShe hurried to the field and found\nHer husband prostrate on the ground,\nWho quelled the hostile V\u00e1nars\u2019 might,\nWhose bank was never turned in flight:\nWhose arm a massy rock could throw\nAs Indra hurls his bolts below:\nFierce as the rushing tempest, loud\nAs thunder from a labouring cloud:\nWhene\u2019er he roared his voice of fear\nStruck terror on the boldest ear:\nNow slain, as, hungry for the prey,\nA tiger might a lion slay:\nOr when, his serpent foe to seek,\nSupar\u1e47a(600) with his furious beak\nTears up a sacred hillock, long\nThe reverence of a village throng,\nIts altar with their offerings spread,\nAnd the gay flag that waved o\u2019erhead.\nShe looked and saw the victor stand\nResting upon his bow his hand:\nAnd fierce Sugr\u00edva she descried,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 by his brother\u2019s side.\nShe passed them by, nor stayed to view,\nSwift to her husband\u2019s side she flew;\nThen as she looked, her strength gave way,\nAnd in the dust she fell and lay.\nThen, as if startled ere the close\nOf slumber, from the earth she rose.\nUpon her dying husband, round\nWhose soul the coils of Death were wound,\nHer eyes in agony she bent\nAnd called him with a shrill lament.\nSugr\u00edva, when he heard her cries,\nAnd saw the queen with weeping eyes,\nAnd youthful Angad standing there,\nHis load of grief could hardly bear.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XX. T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nAgain she bent her to the ground,\nHer arms about her husband wound.\nSobbed on his breast, and sick and faint\nWith anguish poured her wild complaint:\n\u201cBrave in the charge of battle, boast\nAnd glory of the V\u00e1nar host,\nWhy on the cold earth wilt thou lie\nAnd give no answer when I cry?\nUp, warrior, from thy lowly bed!\nA meeter couch for thee is spread.\nIt ill beseems a glorious king\nOn the bare ground his limbs to fling.\nAh, surely must thy love be strong\nFor her whom thou hast governed long,\nIf thou, my hero, canst recline\nOn her cold breast forsaking mine.\nOr, famed for justice through the land,\nThou on the road to heaven hast planned\nSome city fairer far than this\nTo be thy new metropolis.\nAre all our pleasures ended now,\nWith those delicious hours which thou\nAnd I, dear lord, together spent\nIn woods that breathed the honey\u2019s scent?\nWhelmed in my sorrow\u2019s boundless sea,\nThere is no joy, no hope, for me,\nWhen my beloved lord, who led\nThe V\u00e1nars to the fight, is dead,\nMy widowed heart is stern and cold.\nOr, at the sight mine eyes behold,\nO\u2019ermastered would it end this ache\nAnd in a thousand fragments break.\nAh noble V\u00e1nar, doomed to pay\nThe penalty of all today\u2014\nSugr\u00edva from his home expelled,\nAnd Rum\u00e1(601) from his arms withheld.\nOur V\u00e1nar race and thee to save,\nWise counsel for thy weal I gave;\nBut thou, by wildest folly stirred,\nWouldst give no credence to my word,\nAnd now wilt woo the nymphs above,\nAnd shake their souls with pangs of love.\nAh, never could it be that thou\nBeneath Sugr\u00edva\u2019s power shouldst bow,\nThy conqueror is none but Fate\nWhose mandates all who breathe await.\nAnd does no thrill of anguish run\nThrough the stern breast of Raghu\u2019s son,\nWhose base hand dealt a coward\u2019s blow,\nAnd smote thee fighting with thy foe?\nReft of my lord my days, alas!\nIn bitter bitter woe will pass:\nAnd I, long blest with every good,\nMust bear my dreary widowhood.\nAnd when his uncle\u2019s brow is stern,\nWhen his fierce eyes with fury burn,\nAh, what will be my Angad\u2019s fate,\nSo fair and young and delicate?\nCome, darling, for the last sad sight,\nOf thy dear sire who loved the right;\nFor soon thine eyes will long in vain\nA look at that loved face to gain.\nAnd, hero, as thy child draws near,\nWith tender words his spirit cheer;\nThy dying wishes gently speak,\nAnd kiss him on the brows and cheek.\nHigh fame, I ween, has R\u00e1ma won\nBy this great deed his hand has done,\nHis debt to brave Sugr\u00edva paid\nAnd kept the promise that he made.\nBe happy, King Sugr\u00edva, lord\nOf Ram\u00e1 to thine arms restored:\nEnjoy uninterrupted reign,\nFor he, thy foe, at length is slain.\nDost thou not hear me speak, and why\nHast thou no word of soft reply?\nWill thou not lift thine eyes and see\nThese dames who look to none but thee?\u201d\n\n  From their sad eyes, as T\u00e1r\u00e1 spoke,\nThe floods of bitter sorrow broke:\nThen, pressing close to Angad\u2019s side,\nEach lifted up her voice and cried:\n\n  \u201cHow couldst thou leave thine Angad thus,\nAnd go, for ever go, from us\u2014\nThy child so dear in brave attire,\nGraced with the virtues of his sire?\nIf e\u2019er in want of thought, O chief,\nOne deed of mine have caused thee grief,\nForgive my folly, I entreat,\nAnd with my head I touch thy feet.\u201d\n\n  Again the hapless T\u00e1r\u00e1 wept\nAs to her husband\u2019s side she crept,\nAnd wild with sorrow and dismay\nSat on the ground where B\u00e1li lay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXI. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThere, like a fallen star, the dame\nFell by her lord\u2019s half lifeless frame;\nAnd Hanum\u00e1n drew softly near,\nAnd strove her grieving heart to cheer:\n\n\u201cBy changeless law our bliss and woe\nFrom ancient worth and folly flow.\nWhat fruits soe\u2019er we cull, the seeds\nWere scattered by our former deeds.(602)\nWhy mourn another\u2019s mournful fate,\nAnd weep, thyself unfortunate?\nBe calm, O thou whose heart is wise,\nFor none deserves another\u2019s sighs.\nLook up, with idle sorrow strive:\nThy child, his heir, is yet alive.\nLet needful rites be duly done,\nNor in thy woe forget thy son.\nRegard the law which all obey:\nThey spring to life, they pass away.\nBegin the task that bids thee rise,\nAnd stay these tears, for thou art wise.\nOur lord the king is doomed to die,\nOn whom ten million hearts rely.\nKind, liberal, patient, true, and just\nWas he in whom they place their trust,\nAnd now he seeks the land of those\nWho for the right subdue their foes.\nEach V\u00e1nar lord with all his train,\nEach ranger of this wild domain,\nAnd Angad here, thy darling, see\nA governor and friend in thee.\nThese twain(603) whose hearts with sorrow ache\nThe funeral rites shall undertake,\nAnd Angad by his mother\u2019s care\nBe king, his father\u2019s rightful heir.\nNow let him pay, as laws require,\nHis sacred duty to his sire,\nNor one solemnity omit\nOf all that mighty kings befit.\nAnd when thy fond eye sees thine own\nDear Angad on his father\u2019s throne,\nThen, lightened of its load of pain,\nThy spirit will have rest again.\u201d\n\n  She heard his speech, she heaved her head,\nLooked upon Hanum\u00e1n and said:\n\n  \u201cSweeter my slain lord\u2019s limbs to touch,\nThan Angad or a hundred such.\nNo rule or right, a widowed dame,\nO\u2019er Angad or the realm I claim.\nSugr\u00edva is the uncle, he\nIn every act supreme must be.\nI pray thee, chief, this plan resign,\nNor claim from me what ne\u2019er is mine.\nThe father with his tender care\nGuards the dear child the mother bare,\nWhere\u2019er I be, no sweeter task,\nNo happier joy I hope or ask\nThan thus to sit with loving eyes\nAnd watch the bed where B\u00e1li lies.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXII. B\u00e1li Dead.\n\n\nThere breathing still with slow faint sighs\nLay B\u00e1li on the ground: his eyes,\nDamp with the tears of death, he raised,\nOn conquering Sugr\u00edva gazed,\nAnd then in clearest speech expressed\nThe tender feelings of his breast:\n\u201cNot to my charge, Sugr\u00edva, lay\nThine injuries avenged to-day;\nBut rather blame resistless Fate\nThat urged me on infuriate.\nFate ne\u2019er agreed our lives to bless\nWith simultaneous happiness:\nTo dwell like brothers side by side\nIn tender love was still denied.\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 realm is thine to-day:\nBegin, O King, thy rightful sway;(604)\nFor I must go at Y\u00e1ma\u2019s call\nTo sojourn in his gloomy hall;\nMust part and leave this very hour\nMy life, my realm, my kingly power,\nAnd go instead of these to gain\nBright glory free from spot and stain.\nNow at thy hands one boon I seek\nWith the last words my lips shall speak,\nAnd, though it be no easy thing,\nPerform the task I give thee, King.\nThis son of mine, no foolish boy,\nWorthy of bliss and nursed in joy,\u2014\nSee, prostrate on the ground he lies,\nThe hot tears welling from his eyes\u2014\nThe child I love so well, more sweet\nThan life itself, for woe unmeet,\u2014\nTo him be kindly favour shown:\nO guard and keep him as thine own.\nRetain him ever by thy side,\nHis father, helper, friend, and guide.\nFrom fear and woe his young life save,\nAnd give him all his father gave.\nThen T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s son in time shall be\nBrave, resolute, and famed like thee,\nAnd march before thee to the fight\nWhere stricken fiends shall own his might.\nWhile yet a tender stripling, fame\nShall bruit abroad his warrior name,\nAnd brightly shall his glory shine\nFor exploits worthy of his line.\nChild of Sushe\u1e47,(605) my T\u00e1r\u00e1 well\nObscurest lore can read and tell;\nAnd, trained in wondrous art, divines\nEach mystery of boding signs.\nHer solemn warning ne\u2019er despise,\nDo boldly what her lips advise;\nFor things to come her eye can see,\nAnd with her words events agree.\nAnd for the son of Raghu\u2019s sake\nThe toil and danger undertake:\nFor breach of faith were grievous wrong,\nNor wouldst thou be unpunished long.\nNow, brother, take this chain of gold,\nGift of celestial hands of old,\nOr when I die its charm will flee,\nAnd all its might be lost with me.\u201d\n\n  The loving speech Sugr\u00edva heard,\nAnd all his heart with woe was stirred.\nRemorse and gentle pity stole\nEach thought of triumph from his soul:\nThus fades the light when R\u00e1hu(606) mars\nThe glory of the Lord of Stars.(607)\nAll angry thoughts were stayed and stilled\nAnd kindly love his bosom filled.\nHis brother\u2019s word the chief obeyed\nAnd took the chain as B\u00e1li prayed.\nOn little Angad standing nigh\nThe dying hero fixed his eye,\nAnd, ready from this world to part,\nSpoke the fond utterance of his heart:\n\n  \u201cLet time and place thy thoughts employ:\nIn woe be strong, be meek in joy.\nAccept both pain and pleasure, still\nObedient to Sugr\u00edva\u2019s will.\nThou hast, my darling, from the first\nWith tender care been softly nursed;\nBut harder days, if thou wouldst win\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s love, must now begin.\nTo those who hate him ne\u2019er incline,\nNor count his foe a friend of thine.\nIn all thy thoughts his welfare seek,\nObedient, lowly, faithful, meek.\nLet no rash suit his bosom pain,\nNor yet from due requests abstain.(608)\nEach is a grievous fault, between\nThe two is found the happy mean.\u201d\n\n  Then B\u00e1li ceased: his eyeballs rolled\nIn stress of anguish uncontrolled\nHis massive teeth were bared to view,\nAnd from the frame the spirit flew.\nTheir lord and leader dead, the crowd\nOf noblest V\u00e1nars shrieked aloud:\n\u201cSince thou, O King, hast sought the skies\nAll desolate Kishkindh\u00e1 lies.\nHer woods, where V\u00e1nars loved to rove,\nAre empty now, and hill and grove.\nFrom every eye the light is fled,\nSince thou, our mighty lord, art dead.\nThine was the unwearied arm that bore\nThe brunt of deadly fight of yore\nWith Golabh the Gandharva, when,\nLasting through five long years and ten,\nThe dreadful conflict knew no stay\nIn gloom of night, in glare of day;\nAnd when the fifteenth year had past\nThy dire opponent fell at last.\nIf such a foeman fell beneath\nOur hero\u2019s arm and awful teeth\nWho freed us from our terror, how\nIs conquering B\u00e1li fallen now?\u201d\n\n  Then when they saw their leader slain\nGreat anguish seized the V\u00e1nar train,\nWeeping their mighty chief, as when\nIn pastures near a lion\u2019s den\nThe cows by sudden fear are stirred,\nSlain the bold bull who led the herd.\nAnd hapless T\u00e1r\u00e1 sank below\nThe whelming waters of her woe,\nLooked upon B\u00e1li\u2019s face and fell\nBeside him whom she loved go well,\nLike a young creeper clinging round\nA tall tree prostrate on the ground.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIII. T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nShe kissed her lifeless husband\u2019s face,\nShe clasped him in a close embrace,\nLaid her soft lips upon his head;\nThen words like these the mourner said:\n\n  \u201cNo words of mine wouldst thou regard,\nAnd now thy bed is cold and hard.\nUpon the rude rough ground o\u2019erthrown,\nBeneath thee naught but sand and stone.\nTo thee the earth is dearer far\nThan I and my caresses are,\nIf thou upon her breast wilt lie,\nAnd to my words make no reply.\nAh my beloved, good and brave,\nBold to attack and strong to save,\nFate is Sugr\u00edva\u2019s thrall, and we\nIn him our lord and master see.\nLo, by thy bed, a mournful band,\nThy V\u00e1nar chiefs lamenting stand.\nO hear thy nobles\u2019 groans and cries,\nO mark thy Angad\u2019s weeping eyes,\nO list to my entreaties, break\nThe chains of slumber and awake.\nAh me, my lord, this lowly bed\nWhere rest thy limbs and fallen head,\nIs the cold couch where smitten lay\nThy foemen in the bloody fray.\nO noble heart from blemish free,\nLover of war, beloved by me.\nWhy hast thou fled away and left\nThy T\u00e1r\u00e1 of all hope bereft?\nUnwise the father who allows\nHis child to be a warrior\u2019s spouse,\nFor, hero, see thy consort\u2019s fate,\nA widow now most desolate,\nFor ever broken is my pride,\nMy hope of lasting bliss has died,\nAnd sinking in the lowest deep\nOf sorrow\u2019s sea I pine and weep.\nAh, surely not of earthly mould,\nThis stony heart is stern and cold,\nOr, in a hundred pieces rent,\nIt had not lingered to lament.\nDead, dead! my husband, friend, and lord\nIn whom my loving hopes were stored,\nFirst in the field, his foemen\u2019s dread,\nMy own victorious B\u00e1li, dead!\nA woman when her lord has died,\nThough children flourish by her side,\nThough stores of gold her coffers fill,\nIs called a lonely widow still.\nAlas, thy bleeding gashes make\nAround thy limbs a purple lake:\nThus slumbering was thy wont to lie\nOn cushions bright with crimson dye.\nDark streams of welling blood besmear\nThy limbs where dust and mire adhere,\nNor have I strength, weighed down by woe,\nMine arms about thy form to throw.\nThe issue of this day has brought\nSugr\u00edva all his wishes sought,\nFor R\u00e1ma shot one shaft and he\nIs freed from fear and jeopardy.\nAlas, alas, I may not rest\nMy head upon thy wounded breast,\nObstructed by the massive dart\nDeep buried in thy bleeding heart.\u201d\n\n  Then N\u00edla from his bosom drew\nThe fatal shaft that pierced him through,\nLike some tremendous serpent deep\nIn caverns of a hill asleep.\nAs from the hero\u2019s wound it came,\nShot from the shaft a gleam of flame,\nLike the last flashes of the sun\nDescending when his course is run.\nFrom the wide rent in crimson flood\nRushed the full stream of B\u00e1li\u2019s blood,\nLike torrents down a mountain\u2019s side\nWith golden ore and copper dyed.\nThen T\u00e1r\u00e1 brushed with tender care\nThe dust of battle from his hair,\nWhile her sad eyes poured down their rain\nUpon her lord untimely slain.\nOnce more she looked upon the dead;\nThen to her bright-eyed child she said:\n\u201cTurn hither, turn thy weeping eyes\nWhere low in death thy father lies.\nBy sinful deed and bitter hate\nOur lord has met his mournful fate.\nBright as the sun at early morn\nTo Y\u00e1ma\u2019s halls is B\u00e1li borne.\nThen go, my child, salute the king,\nFrom whom our bliss and honour spring.\u201d\n\n  Obedient to his mother\u2019s hest\nHis father\u2019s feet he gently pressed\nWith twining arms and lingering hands:\n\u201cFather,\u201d he cried, \u201chere Angad stands.\u201d\n\n  Then T\u00e1r\u00e1: \u201cArt thou stern and mute,\nRegardless of thy child\u2019s salute?\nHast thou no blessing for thy son,\nNo word for little Angad, none?\nO, hero, at thy lifeless feet\nHere with my boy I take my seat,\nAs some sad mother of the herd,\nBy the fierce lion undeterred,\nLies moaning by the grassy dell\nWherein her lord and leader fell.\nHow, having wrought that awful rite,\nThe sacrifice of deadly fight,\nWherein the shaft by R\u00e1ma sped\nSupplied the place of water shed,\nHow hast thou bathed thee at the end\nWithout thy wife her aid to lend?(609)\nWhy do mine eyes no more behold\nThy bright beloved chain of gold,\nWhich, pleased with thee, the Immortals\u2019 King\nAbout thy neck vouchsafed to fling?\nStill lingering on thy lifeless face\nI see the pride of royal race:\nThus when the sun has set, his glow\nStill rests upon the Lord of Snow.\nAlas my hero! undeterred\nThou wouldst not listen to my word.\nWith tears and prayers I sued in vain:\nThou wouldst not listen, and art slain.\nGone is my bliss, my glory: I\nAnd Angad now with thee will die.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIV. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nBut when Sugr\u00edva saw her weep\nO\u2019erwhelmed in sorrow\u2019s rushing deep,\nSwift through his bosom pierced the sting\nOf anguish for the fallen king.\nAt the sad sight his eyes beheld\nA flood of bitter tears outwelled,\nAnd, with his bosom racked and rent,\nTo R\u00e1ma with his train he went.\nHe came with faltering steps and slow\nWhere R\u00e1ma held his mighty bow\nAnd arrow like a venomed snake,\nAnd to the son of Raghu spake:\n\u201cWell hast thou kept, O King, thy vow:\nThe promised fruit is gathered now.\nBut life is marred, my soul to-day\nTurns sickening from all joy away.\nFor, while this queen laments and sighs\nAmid a mourning people\u2019s cries,\nAnd Angad weeps his father slain,\nHow can my heart delight to reign?\nFor outrage, fury, senseless pride,\nMy brother, doomed of yore, has died.\nYet, Raghu\u2019s son, in bitter woe\nI mourn his fated overthrow.\nAh, better far in pain and ill\nTo dwell on Rishyam\u00faka still\nThan gain the heaven of Gods and all\nIts pleasures by my brother\u2019s fall.\nDid not he cry,\u2014great-hearted foe,\u2014\n\u201cGo, for I will not slay thee, Go\u201d?\nWith his brave soul those words agree:\nMy speech, my deeds, are worthy me.\nHow can a brother counterweigh\nHis grievous loss with joys of sway,\nAnd see with dull unpitying eye\nSo brave and good a brother die?\nHis lofty soul was nobly blind:\nMy death alas, he ne\u2019er designed;\nBut I, urged blindly on by hate,\nSought with his life my rage to sate.\nHe smote me with a splintered tree:\nI groaned aloud and turned to flee,\nFrom stern reproaches he forbore,\nAnd gently bade me sin no more.\nSerene and dutiful and good\nHe kept the laws of brotherhood:\nI, fierce and greedy, vengeful, base,\nShowed all the vices of our race.\nAh me, dear friend, my brother\u2019s fate\nLays on my soul a crushing weight:\nA sin no heart should e\u2019er conceive,\nBut at the thought each soul should grieve:\nSin such as Indra\u2019s when his blow\nLaid heavenly Vi\u015bvar\u00fapa(610) low.\nYet earth, the waters of the seas,\nThe race of women and the trees\nWere fain upon themselves to take\nThe weight of sin for Indra\u2019s sake.\nBut who a V\u00e1nar\u2019s soul will free,\nOr ease the load that crushes me?\nWretch that I am, I may not claim\nThe reverence due to royal name.\nHow shall I reign supreme, or dare\nAffect the power I should not share?\nAh me, I sorrow for my sin,\nThe ruin of my race and kin,\nPolluted by a hideous crime\nWorld-hated till the end of time.\nAlas, the floods of sorrow roll\nWith whelming force upon my soul:\nSo gathers the descending rain\nIn the deep hollow of the plain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXV. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThen Raghu\u2019s son, whose feeling breast\nShared the great woe that moved the rest,\nStrove with wise charm their grief to ease\nAnd gently spoke in words like these:\n\n  \u201cYou ne\u2019er can raise the dead to bliss\nBy agony of grief like this.\nCease your lament, nor leave undone\nThe funeral task you may not shun.\nAs nature orders o\u2019er the dead.\nYour tributary tears are shed,\nBut Fate, directing each event,\nIs still the lord pre\u00ebminent.\nYes, all obey the changeless laws\nOf Fate the universal cause.\nBy Fate, the lives of all proceed,\nThat governs every word and deed,\nNone acts, none sees his hest obeyed,\nBut each and all by Fate are swayed.\nThe world its ordered course maintains,\nAnd o\u2019er that course Fate ever reigns.\nFate ne\u2019er exceeds the rule of Fate:\nIs ne\u2019er too swift, is ne\u2019er too late,\nAnd making nature its ally\nForgets no life, nor passes by.\nNo kith and kin, no power and force\nCan check or stay its settled course,\nNo friend or client, grace or charm,\nThat victor of the world disarm.\nSo all who see with prudent eyes\nThe hand of Fate must recognize,\nFor virtue rules, or love, or gain,\nAs Fate\u2019s unchanged decrees ordain.\nB\u00e1li has died and won the meed\nThat waits in heaven on noble deed,\nThroned in the seats the brave may reach\nBy liberal hand and gentle speech,\nTrue to a warrior\u2019s duty, bold\nIn fight, the hero lofty-souled\nDeigned not to guard his life: he died,\nAnd now in heaven is glorified.\nThen cease these tears and wild despair:\nTurn to the task that claims your care,\nFor B\u00e1li\u2019s is the glorious fate\nWhich warriors count most fortunate.\u201d\n\n  When R\u00e1ma\u2019s speech had found a close,\nBrave Lakshma\u1e47, terror of his foes,\nWith wise and soothing words addressed\nSugr\u00edva still with woe oppressed:\n\u201cArise Sugr\u00edva,\u201d thus he said,\n\u201cPerform the service of the dead.\nPrepare with T\u00e1r\u00e1 and her son\nThat B\u00e1li\u2019s rites be duly done.\nA store of funeral wood provide\nWhich wind and sun and time have dried\nAnd richest sandal fit to grace\nThe pyre of one of royal race.\nWith words of comfort soft and kind\nConsole poor Angad\u2019s troubled mind,\nNor let thy heart be thus cast down,\nFor thine is now the V\u00e1nars\u2019 town.\nLet Angad\u2019s care a wreath supply,\nAnd raiment rich with varied dye,\nAnd oil and perfumes for the fire,\nAnd all the solemn rites require.\nGo, hasten to the town, O King,\nAnd T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s little quickly bring.\nA virtue is despatch: and speed\nIs best of all in hour of need.\nGo, let a chosen band prepare\nThe litter of the dead to bear.\nFor stout and tall and strong of limb\nMust be the chiefs who carry him.\u201d\n\n  He spoke,\u2014his friends\u2019 delight and pride,\u2014\nThen stood again by R\u00e1ma\u2019s side.\nWhen T\u00e1ra(611) heard the words he said\nWithin the town he quickly sped,\nAnd brought, on stalwart shoulders laid,\nThe litter for the rites arrayed,\nFramed like a car for Gods, complete\nWith painted sides and royal seat,\nWith latticed windows deftly made,\nAnd golden birds and trees inlaid:\nWell joined and wrought in every part,\nA marvel of ingenious art.\nWhere pleasure mounds in carven wood\nAnd many a graven figure stood.\nThe best of jewels o\u2019er it hung,\nAnd wreaths of flowers around it clung,\nAnd over all was raised on high\nA canopy of saffron dye,\nWhile like the sun of morning shone\nThe brilliant blooms that lay thereon.\nThat glorious litter R\u00e1ma eyed.\nAnd spake to Lakshma\u1e47 by his side:\n\u201cLet B\u00e1li on the bier be placed\nAnd with all funeral service graced.\u201d\nSugr\u00edva then with many a tear\nDrew B\u00e1li\u2019s body to the bier\nWhereon, with weeping Angad\u2019s aid,\nThe relics of the chief were laid\nNeath many a vesture\u2019s varied fold,\nAnd wreaths and ornaments and gold.\nThen King Sugr\u00edva bade them speed\nThe obsequies by law decreed:\n\u201cLet V\u00e1nars lead the way and throw\nRich gems around them as they go,\nAnd be the chosen bearers near\nBehind them laden with the bier.\nNo costly rite may you deny,\nUsed when the proudest monarchs die:\nAs for a king of widest sway.\nPerform his obsequies to-day.\u201d\nSugr\u00edva gave his high behest;\nThen Princely T\u00e1ra and the rest,\nWith little Angad weeping, led\nThe long procession of the dead.\nBehind the funeral litter came,\nWith T\u00e1r\u00e1 first, each widowed dame,\nIn tears and shrieks her loss deplored,\nAdd cried aloud, My lord! My lord!\nWhile wood and hill and valley sent\nIn echoes back the shrill lament.\nThen on a low and sandy isle\nWas reared the hero\u2019s funeral pile\nBy crowds of toiling V\u00e1nars, where\nThe mountain stream ran fresh and fair,\nThe V\u00e1nar chiefs, a noble band,\nHad laid the litter on the sand,\nAnd stood a little space apart,\nEach mourning in his inmost heart.\nBut T\u00e1r\u00e1, when her weeping eye\nSaw B\u00e1li, on the litter lie,\nLaid his dear head upon her lap,\nAnd wailed aloud her dire mishap;\n\u201cO mighty V\u00e1nar, lord and king,\nTo whose fond breast I loved to cling,\nOf goodly arms, wise, brave, and bold,\nRise, look upon me as of old.\nRise up, my sovereign, dost thou see\nA crowd of subjects weep for thee?\nStill o\u2019er thy face, though breath has fled,\nThe joyous light of life is spread:\nThus around the sun, although he set,\nA crimson glory lingers yet.\nDeath clad in R\u00e1ma\u2019s form to-day\nHast dragged thee from the world away.\nOne shaft from his tremendous bow\nDooms us to widowhood and woe.\nHast thou, O V\u00e1nar King, no eyes\nThy weeping wives to recognize,\nWho for the length of way unmeet\nHave followed thee with weary feet?\nYet every moon-faced beauty here\nBy thee, O King was counted dear.\nLord of the V\u00e1nar race, hast thou\nNo eyes to see Sugr\u00edva now?\nAbout thee stands in mournful mood\nA sore-afflicted multitude,\nAnd T\u00e1ra and thy lords of state\nAround their monarch weep and wait.\nArise my lord, with gentle speech,\nAs was thy wont, dismissing each,\nThen in the forest will we play\nAnd love shall make our spirits gay.\u201d\n\n  The V\u00e1nar dames raised T\u00e1r\u00e1, drowned\nIn floods of sorrow, from the ground;\nAnd Angad with Sugr\u00edva\u2019s aid,\nO\u2019erwhelmed with anguish and dismayed,\nWeeping for his departed sire,\nPlaced B\u00e1li\u2019s body on the pyre:\nThen lit the flame, and round the dead\nPassed slowly with a mourner\u2019s tread.\nThus with full rites the funeral train\nPerformed the service for the slain,\nThen sought the flowing stream and made\nLibations to the parted shade.\nThere, setting Angad first in place,\nThe chieftains of the V\u00e1nar race,\nWith T\u00e1r\u00e1 and Sugr\u00edva, shed\nThe water that delights the dead.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVI. The Coronation.\n\n\nEach V\u00e1nar councillor and peer\nIn crowded numbers gathered near\nSugr\u00edva, mournful king, while yet\nHis vesture from the wave was wet,\nBefore the chief of Raghu\u2019s seed\nUnwearied in each arduous deed,\nThey stood and raised the reverent hand\nAs saints before Lord Brahm\u00e1 stand.\nThen Hanum\u00e1n of massive mould,\nLike some tall hill of glistering gold,\nSon of the God whose wild blasts shake\nThe forest, thus to R\u00e1ma spake:\n\u201cBy thy kind favour, O my lord,\nSugr\u00edva, to his home restored\nTriumphant, has regained to-day\nHis rank and power and royal sway.\nHe now will call each faithful friend,\nEnter the city, and attend\nWith sage advice and prudent care\nTo every task that waits him there.\nThen balm and unguent shall anoint\nOur monarch, as the laws appoint,\nAnd gems and precious wreaths shall be\nHis grateful offering, King, to thee.\nDo thou, O R\u00e1ma, with thy friend\nThy steps within the city bend;\nOur ruler on his throne install,\nAnd with thy presence cheer us all.\u201d\n\n  Then, skilled in lore and arts that guide\nThe speaker, Raghu\u2019s son replied:\n\u201cFor fourteen years I might not break\nThe mandate that my father spake;\nNor can I, till that time be fled,\nThe street of town or village tread.\nLet King Sugr\u00edva seek the town\nMost worthy of her high renown,\nThere let him be without delay\nAnointed, and begin his sway.\u201d\n\n  This answered, to Sugr\u00edva then\nThus spake anew the king of men:\n\u201cDo thou who knowest right ordain\nPrince Angad consort of thy reign;\nFor he is noble, true, and bold,\nAnd trained a righteous course to hold\nGifts like his sire\u2019s that youth adorn\nBorn eldest to the eldest born.\nThis is the month of \u015ar\u00e1va\u1e47,(612) first\nOf those that see the rain-clouds burst.\nFour months, thou knowest well, extends\nThe season when the rain descends.\nNo time for deeds of war is this:\nSeek thou thy fair metropolis,\nAnd I with Lakshma\u1e47, O my friend,\nThe time upon this hill will spend.\nAn ample cavern opens there\nMade lovely by the mountain air,\nAnd lotuses and lilies fill\nThe pleasant lake and murmuring rill.\nWhen K\u00e1rtik\u2019s(613) month shall clear the skies,\nThen tempt the mighty enterprise.\nNow, chieftain to thy home repair,\nAnd be anointed sovereign there.\u201d\n\n  Sugr\u00edva heard: he bowed his head:\nWithin the lovely town he sped\nWhich B\u00e1li\u2019s royal will had swayed,\nWhere thousand V\u00e1nar chiefs arrayed\nGathered in order round their king,\nAnd led him on with welcoming.\nLow on the earth the lesser crowd\nFell in prostration as they bowed.\nSugr\u00edva looked with grateful eyes,\nSpake to them all and bade them rise.\nThen through the royal bowers he strode\nWherein the monarch\u2019s wives abode.\nSoon from the inner chambers came\nThe V\u00e1nar of exalted fame;\nAnd joyful friends drew near and shed\nKing-making balm upon his head,\nLike Gods anointing in the skies\nTheir sovereign of the thousand eyes.(614)\nThen brought they, o\u2019er their king to hold\nThe white umbrella decked with gold,\nAnd chouries with their waving hair\nIn golden handles wondrous fair;\nAnd fragrant herbs and seed and spice,\nAnd sparkling gems exceeding price,\nAnd every bloom from woods and leas,\nAnd gum distilled from milky trees;\nAnd precious ointment white as milk,\nAnd spotless robes of cloth and silk,\nWreaths of sweet flowers whose glories gleam\nIn grassy grove, on lake or stream.\nAnd fragrant sandal and each scent\nThat makes the soft breeze redolent;\nGrain, honey, odorous seed, and store\nOf oil and curd and golden ore;\nA noble tiger\u2019s skin, a pair\nOf sandals wrought with costliest care,\nEight pairs of damsels drawing nigh\nBrought unguents stained with varied dye.\nThen gems and cates and robes displayed\nBefore the twice-born priests were laid,\nThat they would deign in order due\nTo consecrate the king anew.\nThe sacred grass was duly spread\nAnd sacrificial flame was fed,\nWhich Scripture-learned priests supplied\nWith oil which texts had sanctified.\nThen, with all rites ordained of old,\nHigh on the terrace bright with gold,\nWhereon a glorious carpet lay,\nAnd fresh-culled garlands sweet and gay,\nPlaced on his throne, Sugr\u00edva bent\nHis looks toward the Orient.\nIn horns from forehead of the bull,\nIn pitchers bright and beautiful,\nIn urns of gold the V\u00e1nara took\nPure water brought from stream and brook,\nFrom every consecrated strand\nAnd every sea that beats the land.\nThen, as prescribed by sacred lore\nAnd many a mighty sage of yore,(615)\nThe leaders of the V\u00e1nars poured\nThe sacred water on their lord.(616)\nFrom every V\u00e1nar at the close\nOf that imperial rite arose\nShouts of glad triumph, loud and long\nRepeated by the high-souled throng.\nSugr\u00edva, when the rite was done,\nObeyed the hest of Raghu\u2019s son,\nPrince Angad to his breast he strained,\nAnd partner of his sway ordained.\nOnce more from all the host rang out\nThe loud huzza and jovful shout.\n\u201cWell done! well done!\u201d each V\u00e1nar cried,\nAnd good Sugr\u00edva glorified.\nThen with glad voices loudly raised\nWere R\u00e1ma and his brother praised;\nAnd bright Kishkindh\u00e1 shone that day\nWith happy throngs and banners gay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVII. R\u00e1ma On The Hill.\n\n\nBut when the solemn rite was o\u2019er,\nAnd bold Sugr\u00edva reigned once more,\nThe sons of Raghu sought the hill,\nPra\u015brava\u1e47 of the rushing rill,\nWhere roamed the tiger and the deer,\nAnd lions raised their voice of fear;\nThick set with trees of every kind,\nWith trailing shrubs and plants entwined;\nHome of the ape and monkey, lair\nOf mountain cat and pard and bear.\nIn cloudy gloom against the sky\nThe sanctifying hills rose high.\nPierced in their crest, a spacious cave\nTo Raghu\u2019s sons a shelter gave.\nThen R\u00e1ma, pure from every crime,\nIn words well suited to the time\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 spake, whose faithful zeal\nWatched humbly for his brother\u2019s weal:\n\u201cI love this spacious cavern where\nThere breathes a fresh and pleasant air.\nBrave brother, let us here remain\nThroughout the season of the rain.\nFor in mine eyes this mountain crest\nIs above all, the loveliest.\nWhere copper-hued and black and white\nShow the huge blocks that face the height;\nWhere gleams the shine of varied ore,\nWhere dark clouds hang and torrents roar;\nWhere waving woods are fair to see,\nAnd creepers climb from tree to tree;\nWhere the gay peacock\u2019s voice is shrill,\nAnd sweet birds carol on the hill;\nWhere odorous breath is wafted far\nFrom Jessamine and Sinduv\u00e1r;(617)\nAnd opening flowers of every hue\nGive wondrous beauty to the view.\nSee, too, this pleasant water near\nOur cavern home is fresh and clear;\nAnd lilies gay with flower and bud\nAre glorious on the lovely flood.\nThis cave that fares north and east\nWill shelter us till rain has ceased;\nAnd towering hills that rise behind\nWill screen us from the furious wind.\nClose by the cavern\u2019s portal lies\nAnd level stone of ample size\nAnd sable hue, a mighty block\nLong severed from the parent rock.\nNow let thine eye bent northward rest\nA while upon that mountain crest,\nHigh as a cloud that brings the rain,\nAnd dark as iron rent in twain.\nLook southward, brother, now and view\nA cloudy pile of paler hue\nLike Mount Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s topmost height\nWhere ores of every tint are bright.\nSee, Lakshman, see before our cave\nThat clear brook eastward roll its wave\nAs though \u2019twere Gang\u00e1\u2019s infant rill\nDown streaming from the three-peaked hill.\nSee, by the water\u2019s gentle flow\nA\u015boka, s\u00e1l, and sandal grow.\nAnd every lovely tree most fair\nWith leaf and bud and flower is there.\nSee there, beneath the bending trees\nThat fringe her bank, the river flees,\nClothed with their beauty like a maid\nIn all her robes and gems arrayed,\nWhile from the sedgy banks are heard\nThe soft notes of each amorous bird.\nO see what lovely islets stud\nLike gems the bosom of the flood,\nAnd s\u00e1rases and wild swans crowd\nAbout her till she laughs aloud.\nSee, lotus blooms the brook o\u2019erspread,\nSome tender blue, some dazzling red,\nAnd opening lilies white as snow\nTheir buds in rich profusion show.\nThere rings the joyous peacock\u2019s scream,\nThere stands the curlew by the stream,\nAnd holy hermits love to throng\nWhere the sweet waters speed along.\nRanged on the grassy margin shine\nGay sandal trees in glittering line,\nAnd all the wondrous verdure seems\nThe offspring of creative dreams.\nO conquering Prince, there cannot be\nA lovelier place than this we see.\nHere sheltered on the beauteous height\nOur days will pass in calm delight.\nNor is Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s city, gay\nWith grove and garden, far away.\nThence will the breeze of evening bring\nSweet music as the minstrels sing;\nAnd, when the V\u00e1nars dance, will come\nThe sound of tabour and of drum.\nAgain to spouse and realm restored,\nGirt by his friends, the V\u00e1nar lord\nGreat glory has acquired; and how\nCan he be less than happy now?\u201d\n\n  This said, the son of Raghu made\nHis dwelling in that pleasant shade\nUpon the mountain\u2019s shelving side\nThat sweetly all his wants supplied.\nBut still the hero\u2019s troubled mind\nNo comfort in his woe could find,\nYet mourning for his stolen wife\nDearer to R\u00e1ma than his life,\nChief when he saw the Lord of Night\nRise slowly o\u2019er the eastern height,\nHe tossed upon his leafy bed\nWith eyes by sleep unvisited.\nOutwelled the tears in ceaseless flow,\nAnd every sense was numbed by woe.\nEach pang that pierced the mourner through\nSmote Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s faithful bosom too,\nWho, troubled for his brother\u2019s sake,\nWith wisest words the prince bespake:\n\u201cArise, my brother, and be strong:\nThy hero heart has mourned too long.\nThou knowest well that tears and sighs\nWill mar the mightiest enterprise.\nThine was the soul that loved to dare:\nTo serve the Gods was still thy care;\nAnd ne\u2019er may sorrow\u2019s sting subdue\nA heart so resolute and true.\nHow canst thou hope to slay in fight\nThe giant cruel in his might?\nUnwearied must the champion be\nWho strives with such a foe as he.\nTear out this sorrow by the root;\nAgain be bold and resolute.\nArise, my brother, and subdue\nThe demon and his wicked crew.\nThou canst destroy the earth, her seas,\nHer rooted hills and giant trees\nUnseated by thy furious hand:\nAnd shall one fiend thy power withstand?\nWait through this season of the rain\nTill suns of autumn dry the plain,\nThen shall thy giant foe, and all\nHis host and realm, before thee fall.\nI wake thy valour that has slept\nAmid the tears thine eyes have wept;\nAs drops of oil in worship raise\nThe dormant flame to sudden blaze.\u201d\n\n  The son of Raghu heard: he knew\nHis brother\u2019s rede was wise and true;\nAnd, honouring his friendly guide,\nIn gentle words he thus replied:\n\u201cWhate\u2019er a hero firm and bold,\nDevoted, true, and lofty-souled\nShould speak by deep affection led,\nSuch are the words which thou hast said.\nI cast away each pensive thought\nThat brings the noblest plans to naught,\nAnd each uninjured power will strain\nUntil the purposed end we gain.\nThy prudent words will I obey,\nAnd till the close of rain-time stay,\nWhen King Sugr\u00edva will invite\nTo action, and the streams be bright.\nThe hero saved in hour of need\nRepays the debt with friendly deed:\nBut hated by the good are they\nWho take the boon and ne\u2019er repay.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVIII. The Rains.\n\n\n\u201cSee, brother, see\u201d thus R\u00e1ma cried\nOn M\u00e1lyavat\u2019s(618) dark-wooded side,\n\u201cA chain of clouds, like lofty hills,\nThe sky with gathering shadow fills.\nNine months those clouds have borne the load\nConceived from sunbeams as they glowed,\nAnd, having drunk the seas, give birth,\nAnd drop their offspring on the earth.\nEasy it seems at such a time\nThat flight of cloudy stairs to climb,\nAnd, from their summit, safely won,\nHang flowery wreaths about the sun.\nSee how the flash of evening\u2019s red\nFringes the fleecy clouds o\u2019erhead\nTill all the sky is streaked and lined\nWith bleeding wounds incarnadined,\nOr the wide firmament above\nShows like a lover sick with love\nAnd, pale with cloudlets, heaves a sigh\nIn the soft breeze that wanders by.\nSee, by the fervent heat embrowned,\nHow drenched with recent showers, the ground\nPours out in floods her gushing tears,\nLike S\u00edt\u00e1 wild with torturing fears.\nSo softly blows this cloud-born breeze\nCool through the boughs of camphor trees\nThat one might hold it in the cup\nOf hollowed hands and drink it up.\nSee, brother, where that rocky steep,\nWhere odorous shrubs in rain-drops weep,\nShows like Sugr\u00edva when they shed\nTne royal balm upon his head.\nLike students at their task appear\nThese hills whose misty peaks are near:\nBlack deerskin(619) garments wrought of cloud\nTheir forms with fitting mantles shroud,\nEach torrent from the summit poured\nSupplies the place of sacred cord.(620)\nAnd winds that in their caverns moan\nSound like the voice\u2019s undertone.(621)\nFrom east to west red lightnings flash,\nAnd, quivering neath the golden lash,\nThe great sky like a generous steed\nGroans inly at each call to speed.\nYon lightning, as it flashes through\nThe giant cloud of sable hue,\nRecalls my votaress S\u00edt\u00e1 pressed\nMid struggles to the demon\u2019s breast.\nSee, on those mountain ridges stand\nSweet shrubs that bud and bloom expand.\nThe soft rain ends their pangs of grief,\nAnd drops its pearls on flower and leaf.\nBut all their raptures stab me through\nAnd wake my pining love anew.(622)\nNow through the air no wild bird flies,\nEach lily shuts her weary eyes;\nAnd blooms of opening jasmin show\nThe parting sun has ceased to glow.\nNo captain now for conquest burns,\nBut homeward with his host returns;\nFor roads and kings\u2019 ambitious dreams\nHave vanished neath descending streams.\nThis is the watery month(623) wherein\nThe S\u00e1mar\u2019s(624) sacred chants begin.\n\u00c1sh\u00e1dha(625) past, now Ko\u015bal\u2019s lord(626)\nThe harvest of the spring has stored,(627)\nAnd dwells within his palace freed\nFrom every care of pressing need.\nFull is the moon, and fierce and strong\nImpetuous Sarj\u00fa(628) roars along\nAs though Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s crowds ran out\nTo greet their king with echoing shout.\nIn this sweet time of ease and rest\nNo care disturbs Sugr\u00edva\u2019s breast,\nThe foe that marred his peace o\u2019erthrown,\nAnd queen and realm once more his own.\nAlas, a harder fate is mine,\nReft both of realm and queen to pine,\nAnd, like the bank which floods erode,\nI sink beneath my sorrow\u2019s load.\nSore on my soul my miseries weigh,\nAnd these long rains our action stay,\nWhile R\u00e1van seems a mightier foe\nThan I dare hope to overthrow.\nI saw the roads were barred by rain,\nI knew the hopes of war were vain;\nNor could I bid Sugr\u00edva rise,\nThough prompt to aid my enterprise.\nE\u2019en now I scarce can urge my friend\nOn whom his house and realm depend,\nWho, after toil and peril past,\nIs happy with his queen at last.\nSugr\u00edva after rest will know\nThe hour is come to strike the blow,\nNor will his grateful soul forget\nMy succour, or deny the debt\nI know his generous heart, and hence\nAwait the time with confidence\nWhen he his friendly zeal will show,\nAnd brooks again untroubled flow.\u201d(629)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIX. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Counsel.\n\n\nNo flash of lightning lit the sky,\nNo cloudlet marred the blue on high.\nThe Saras(630) missed the welcome rain,\nThe moon\u2019s full beams were bright again.\nSugr\u00edva, lapped in bliss, forgot\nThe claims of faith, or heeded not;\nAnd by alluring joys misled\nThe path of falsehood learned to tread.\nIn careless ease he passed each hour,\nAnd dallied in his lady\u2019s bower.\nEach longing of his heart was stilled,\nAnd every lofty hope fulfilled.\nWith royal Rum\u00e1 by his side,\nOr T\u00e1r\u00e1 yet a dearer bride,\nHe spent each joyous day and night\nIn revelry and wild delight,\nLike Indra whom the nymphs entice\nTo taste the joys of Paradise.\nThe power to courtiers\u2019 hands resigned,\nTo all their acts his eyes were blind.\nAll doubt, all fear he cast aside\nAnd lived with pleasure for his guide.\nBut sage Han\u00fam\u00e1n, firm and true,\nWhose heart the lore of Scripture knew,\nWell trained to meet occasion, trained\nIn all by duty\u2019s law ordained,\nStrove with his prudent speech to find\nSoft access to the monarch\u2019s mind.\nHe, skilled in every gentle art\nOf eloquence that wins the heart,\nSugr\u00edva from his trance to wake,\nHis salutary counsel spake:\n\n  \u201cThe realm is won, thy name advanced,\nThe glory of thy house enhanced,\nAnd now thy foremost care should be\nTo aid the friends who succoured thee.\nHe who is firm and faithful found\nTo friendly ties in honour bound,\nWill see his name and fame increase\nAnd his blest kingdom thrive in peace.\nWide sway is his who truly boasts\nThat friends and treasure, self and hosts,\nAll blent in one harmonious whole,\nAre subject to his firm control.\nDo thou, whose footsteps never stray\nFrom the clear bounds of duty\u2019s way,\nAssist, as honour bids thee, now\nThy friends, observant of thy vow.\nFor if all cares we lay not by,\nAnd to our friend\u2019s assistance fly,\nWe, after, toil in idle haste,\nAnd all the late endeavour waste.\nUp! nor the promised help delay\nUntil the hour have slipped away.\nUp! and with Raghu\u2019s son renew\nThe search for S\u00edt\u00e1 lost to view.\nThe hour is come: he hears the call,\nBut not on thee reproaches fall\nFrom him who labours to repress\nHis eager spirit\u2019s restlessness.\nLong joined to thee in friendly ties\nHe made thy fame and fortune rise,\nIn gentle gifts by none excelled.\nIn splendid might unparalleled.\nUp, to his succour, King! repay\nThe favour of that prosperous day,\nAnd to thy bravest captains send\nPrompt mandates to assist thy friend.\nThe cry for help thou wilt not spurn\nAlthough no grace demands return:\nAnd wilt thou not thine aid afford\nTo him who realm and life restored?\nExert thy power, and thou hast won\nThe love of Da\u015baratha\u2019s son:\nAnd wilt thou for his summons wait,\nAnd, till he call thee, hesitate?\nThink not the hero needs thy power\nTo save him in the desperate hour:\nHe with his arrows could subdue\nThe Gods and all the demon crew,\nAnd only waits that he may see\nRedeemed the promise made by thee.\nFor thee he risked his life and fought,\nFor thee that great deliverance wrought.\nThen let us trace through earth and skies\nHis lady wheresoe\u2019er she lies.\nThrough realms above, beneath, we flee,\nAnd plant our footsteps on the sea.\nThen why, O Lord of V\u00e1nars, still\nDelay us waiting for thy will?\nGive thy commands, O King, and say\nWhat task has each and where the way.\nBefore thee myriad V\u00e1nars stand\nTo sweep through heaven, o\u2019er seas and land.\u201d\n\n  Sugr\u00edva heard the timely rede\nThat roused him in the day of need,\nAnd thus to N\u00edla prompt and brave\nHis hest the imperial V\u00e1nar gave:\n\u201cGo, N\u00edla, to the distant hosts\nThat keep in arms their several posts,\nAnd all the armies that protect\nThe quarters,(631) with their chiefs, collect.\nTo all the luminaries placed\nIn intermediate regions haste,\nAnd bid each captain rise and lead\nHis squadrons to their king with speed.\nDo thou meanwhile with strictest care\nAll that the time requires prepare.\nThe loitering V\u00e1nar who delays\nTo gather here ere thrice five days,\nShall surely die for his offence,\nCondemned for sinful negligence.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXX. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nBut R\u00e1ma in the autumn night\nStood musing on the mountain height,\nWhile grief and love that scorned control\nShook with wild storms the hero\u2019s soul.\nClear was the sky, without a cloud\nThe glory of the moon to shroud.\nAnd bright with purest silver shone\nEach hill the soft beams looked upon.\nHe knew Sugr\u00edva\u2019s heart was bent\nOn pleasure, gay and negligent.\nHe thought on Janak\u2019s child forlorn\nFrom his fond arms for ever torn.\nHe mourned occasion slipping by,\nAnd faint with anguish heaved each sigh.\nHe sat where many a varied streak\nOf rich ore marked the mountain peak.\nHe raised his eyes the sky to view,\nAnd to his love his sad thoughts flew.\nHe heard the S\u00e1ras cry, and faint\nWith sorrow poured his love-born plaint:\n\u201cShe, she who mocked the softest tone\nOf wild birds\u2019 voices with her own,\u2014\nWhere strays she now, my love who played\nSo happy in our hermit shade?\nHow can my absent love behold\nThe bright trees with their flowers of gold,\nAnd all their gleaming glory see\nWith eyes that vainly look for me?\nHow is it with my darling when\nFrom the deep tangles of the glen\nFloat carols of each bird elate\nWith rapture singing to his mate?\nIn vain my weary glances rove\nFrom lake to hill, from stream to grove:\nI find no rapture in the scene,\nAnd languish for my fawn-eyed queen.\nAh, does strong love with wild unrest,\nBorn of the autumn, stir her breast?\nAnd does the gentle lady pine\nTill her bright eyes shall look in mine?\u201d\n\n  Thus Raghu\u2019s son in piteous tone,\nO\u2019erwhelmed with sorrow, made his moan.\nE\u2019en as the bird that drinks the rains(632)\nTo Indra thousand-eyed complains.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 who had wandered through\nThe copses where the berries grew,\nReturning to the cavern found\nHis brother chief in sorrow drowned,\nAnd pitying the woes that broke\nThe spirit of the hero spoke:\n\n  \u201cWhy cast thy strength of soul away,\nAnd weakly yield to passion\u2019s sway?\nArise, my brother, do and dare\nEre action perish in despair.\nRecall the firmness of thy heart,\nAnd nerve thee for a hero\u2019s part.\nWhose is the hand unscathed to sieze\nThe red flame quickened by the breeze?\nWhere is the foe will dare to wrong\nOr keep the Maithil lady long?\u201d\nThen with pale lips that sorrow dried\nThe son of Raghu thus replied:\n\u201cLord Indra thousand-eyed, has sent\nThe sweet rain from the firmament,\nSees the rich promise of the grain,\nAnd turns him to his rest again.\nThe clouds with voices loud and deep,\nVeiling each tree upon the steep,\nUp on the thirsty earth have shed\nTheir precious burden and are fled.\nNow in kings\u2019 hearts ambition glows:\nThey rush to battle with their foes;(633)\nBut in Sugr\u00edva\u2019s sloth I see\nNo care for deeds of chivalry.\nSee, Lakshma\u1e47, on each breezy height\nA thousand autumn blooms are bright.\nSee how the wings of wild swans gleam\nOn every islet of the stream.\nFour months of flood and rain are past:\nA hundred years they seemed to last\nTo me whom toil and trouble tried,\nMy S\u00edt\u00e1 severed from my side.\nShe, gentlest woman, weak and young,\nStill to her lord unwearied clung.\nStill by the exile\u2019s side she stood\nIn the wild ways of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood,\nLike a fond bird disconsolate\nIf parted from her darling mate.\nSugr\u00edva, lapped in soft repose,\nUntouched by pity for my woes,\nScorns the poor exile, dispossessed,\nBy R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s mightier arm oppressed,\nThe wretch who comes to sue and pray\nFrom his lost kingdom far away.\nHence falls on me the V\u00e1nar\u2019s scorn,\nA suitor friendless and forlorn.\nThe time is come: with heedless eye\nHe sees the hour of action fly,\u2014\nUnmindful, now his hopes succeed,\nOf promise made in stress of need.\nGo seek him sunk in bliss and sloth,\nForgetful of his royal oath,\nAnd as mine envoy thus upbraid\nThe monarch for his help delayed:\n\u201cVile is the wretch who will not pay\nThe favour of an earlier day,\nHope in the supplicant\u2019s breast awakes,\nAnd then his plighted promise breaks.\nNoblest, mid all of women born,\nWho keeps the words his lips have sworn,\nYea, if those words be good or ill,\nMaintains his faith unbroken still.\nThe thankless who forget to aid\nThe friend who helped them when they prayed,\nDishonoured in their death shall lie,\nAnd dogs shall pass their corpses by.\nSure thou wouldst see my strained arm hold\nMy bow of battle backed with gold,\nWouldst gaze upon its awful form\nLike lightning flashing through the storm,\nAnd hear the clanging bowstring loud\nAs thunder from a labouring cloud.\u201d\n\n  His valour and his strength I know:\nBut pleasure\u2019s sway now sinks them low,\nWith thee, my brother, for ally\nThat strength and valour I defy.\nHe promised, when the rains should end,\nThe succour of his arm to lend.\nThose months are past: he dares forget,\nAnd, lapped in pleasure, slumbers yet.\nNo thought disturbs his careless breast\nFor us impatient and distressed,\nAnd, while we sadly wait and pine,\nGirt by his lords he quaffs the wine.\nGo, brother, go, his palace seek,\nAnd boldly to Sugr\u00edva speak,\nThus give the listless king to know\nWhat waits him if my anger glow:\nStill open, to the gloomy God,\nLies the sad path that B\u00e1li trod.\n\u201cStill to thy plighted word be true,\nLest thou, O King, that path pursue.\nI launched the shaft I pointed well.\nAnd B\u00e1li, only B\u00e1li, fell.\nBut, if from truth thou dare to stray,\nBoth thee and thine this hand shall slay.\u201d\nThus be the V\u00e1nar king addressed,\nThen add thyself what seems the best.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXI. The Envoy.\n\n\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke, and Lakshma\u1e47 then\nMade answer to the prince of men:\n\u201cYea, if the V\u00e1nar, undeterred\nBy fear of vengeance, break his word,\nLoss of his royal power ere long\nShall pay the traitor for the wrong.\nNor deem I him so void of sense\nTo brave the bitter consequence.\nBut if enslaved to joy he lie,\nAnd scorn thy grace with blinded eye,\nThen let him join his brother slain:\nUnmeet were such a wretch to reign.\nQuick rises, kindling in my breast,\nThe wrath that will not be repressed,\nAnd bids me in my fury slay\nThe breaker of his faith to-day.\nLet B\u00e1li\u2019s son thy consort trace\nWith bravest chiefs of V\u00e1nar race.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the hero, and aglow\nWith rage of battle seized his bow.\nBut R\u00e1ma thus in gentler mood\nWith fitting words his speech renewed:\n\u201cNo hero with a soul like thine\nTo paths of sin will e\u2019er incline,\nHe who his angry heart can tame\nIs worthiest of a hero\u2019s name.\nNot thine, my brother, be the part\nSo alien from the tender heart,\nNor let thy feet by wrath misled\nForsake the path they loved to tread.\nFrom harsh and angry words abstain:\nWith gentle speech a hearing gain,\nAnd tax Sugr\u00edva with the crime\nOf failing faith and wasted time.\u201d\n\n  Then Lakshma\u1e47, bravest of the brave,\nObeyed the hest that R\u00e1ma gave,\nTo whom devoting every thought\nThe V\u00e1nar\u2019s royal town he sought.\nAs Mandar\u2019s mountain heaves on high\nHis curved peak soaring to the sky,\nSo Lakshma\u1e47 showed, his dread bow bent\nLike Indra\u2019s(634) in the firmament.\nHis brother\u2019s wrath, his brother\u2019s woe\nInflamed his soul to fiercest glow.\nThe tallest trees to earth were cast\nAs furious on his way he passed,\nAnd where he stepped, so fiercely fleet,\nThe stones were shivered by his feet.\nHe reached Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s city deep\nEmbosomed where the hills were steep,\nWhere street and open square were lined\nWith legions of the V\u00e1nar kind.\nThen, as his lips with fury swelled,\nThe lord of Raghu\u2019s line beheld\nA stream of V\u00e1nar chiefs outpoured\nTo do obeisance to their lord.\nBut when the mighty prince in view\nOf the thick coming V\u00e1nars drew,\nThey turned them in amaze to seize\nCrags of the rock and giant trees.\nHe saw, and fiercer waxed his ire,\nAs oil lends fury to the fire.\nScarce had the V\u00e1nar chieftains seen\nThat wrathful eye, that troubled mien\nFierce as the God\u2019s who rules the dead,\nWhen, turned in wild affright, they fled.\nSpeeding in breathless terror all\nSought King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s council hall,\nAnd there made known their tale of fear,\nThat Lakshma\u1e47 wild with rage, was near.\nThe king, untroubled by alarms,\nHeld T\u00e1r\u00e1 in his amorous arms,\nAnd in the distant bower with her\nHeard not each clamorous messenger.\nThen, summoned at the lords\u2019 behest\nForth from the city portals pressed,\nEach like some elephant or cloud,\nThe V\u00e1nars in a trembling crowd:\nFierce warriors all with massive jaws\nAnd terrors of their tiger claws,\nSome matched ten elephants, and some\nA hundred\u2019s strength could overcome.\nSome chieftains, mightier than the rest,\nTen times a hundred\u2019s force possessed.\nWith eyes of fury Lakshma\u1e47 viewed\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 tree-armed multitude.\nThus garrisoned from side to side\nThe city walls assault defied.\nBeyond the moat that girt the wall\nAdvanced the V\u00e1nar chiefs; and all\nUpon the plain in firm brigade,\nImpetuous warriors, stood arrayed.\nRed at the sight flashed Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s eyes,\nHis bosom heaved tumultuous sighs,\nAnd forth the fire of fury broke\nLike flame that flashes through the smoke.\nLike some fierce snake the hero stood:\nHis bow recalled the expanded hood,\nAnd in his shaft-head bright and keen\nThe flickering of its tongue was seen:\nAnd in his own all-conquering might\nThe venom of its deadly bite.\nPrince Angad marked his angry look,\nAnd every hope his heart forsook.\nThen, his large eyes with fury red,\nTo Angad Lakshma\u1e47 turned and said:\n\n  \u201cGo tell the king that Lakshma\u1e47 waits\nFor audience at the city gates,\nWhose heart, O tamer of thy foes,\nIs heavy with his brother\u2019s woes.\nBid him to R\u00e1ma\u2019s word attend,\nAnd ask if he will aid his friend.\nGo, let the king my message learn:\nThen hither with all speed return.\u201d\n\n  Prince Angad heard and wild with grief\nCried as he looked upon the chief:\n\u201c\u2019Tis Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s self: impelled by ire\nHe seeks the city of my sire.\u201d\nAt the fierce words and furious look\nOf Raghu\u2019s son he quailed and shook.\nBack through the city gates he sped,\nAnd, laden with the tale of dread,\nSought King Sugr\u00edva, filled his ears\nAnd Rum\u00e1\u2019s with his doubts and fears.\nTo Rum\u00e1 and the king he bent,\nAnd clasped their feet most reverent,\nClasped the dear feet of T\u00e1r\u00e1, too,\nAnd told the startling tale anew.\n\n  But King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s ear was dulled,\nBy love and wine and languor lulled,\nNor did the words that Angad spake\nThe slumberer from his trance awake.\nBut soon as Raghu\u2019s son came nigh\nThe startled V\u00e1nars raised a cry,\nAnd strove to win his grace, while dread\nEach anxious heart disquieted.\nThey saw, and, as they gathered round,\nRose from the mighty throng a sound\nLike torrents when they downward dash,\nOr thunder with the lightning\u2019s flash.\nThe shouting of the V\u00e1nars broke\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s slumber, and he woke:\nStill with the wine his eyes were red,\nHis neck with flowers was garlanded.\nRoused at the voice of Angad came\nTwo V\u00e1nar lords of rank and fame;\nOne Yaksha, one Prabh\u00e1va hight,\u2014\nWise counsellors of gain and right.\nThey came and raised their voices high,\nAnd told that Raghu\u2019s son was nigh:\n\u201cTwo brothers steadfast in their truth,\nEach glorious in the bloom of youth,\nWorthy of rule, have left the skies,\nAnd clothed their forms in men\u2019s disguise.\nOne at thy gates, in warlike hands\nHolding his mighty weapon, stands.\nHis message is the charioteer\nThat brings the eager envoy near,\nUrged onward by his bold intent,\nAnd by the hest of R\u00e1ma sent.\u201d\nThe gathered V\u00e1nars saw and fled,\nAnd raised aloud their cry of dread.\nSon of Queen T\u00e1r\u00e1, Angad ran\nTo parley with the godlike man.\nStill fiery-eyed with rage and hate\nStands Lakshma\u1e47 at the city gate,\nAnd trembling V\u00e1nars scarce can fly\nScathed by the lightning of his eye.\n\u201cGo with thy son, thy kith and kin,\nThe favour of the prince to win,\nAnd bow thy reverent head that so\nHis fiery wrath may cease to glow.\nWhat righteous R\u00e1ma bids thee, do,\nAnd to thy plighted word be true.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXII. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Counsel.\n\n\nSugr\u00edva heard, and, trained and tried\nIn counsel, to his lords replied:\n\u201cNo deed of mine, no hasty word\nThe anger of the prince has stirred.\nBut haply some who hate me still\nAnd watch their time to work me ill,\nHave slandered me to Raghu\u2019s son,\nAccused of deeds I ne\u2019er have done.\nNow, O my lords\u2014for you are wise\u2014\nSpeak truly what your hearts advise,\nAnd, pondering each event, inquire\nThe reason of the prince\u2019s ire.\nNo fear have I of Lakshma\u1e47: none:\nNo dread of Raghu\u2019s mightier son.\nBut wrath, that fires a friendly breast\nWithout due cause, disturbs my rest.\nWith labour light is friendship gained,\nBut with severest toil maintained.\nAnd doubt is strong, and faith is weak,\nAnd friendship dies when traitors speak.\nHence is my troubled bosom cold\nWith fear of R\u00e1ma lofty-souled;\nFor heavy on my spirit weigh\nHis favours I can ne\u2019er repay.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and Hanum\u00e1n of all\nThe V\u00e1nars in the council hall\nIn wisdom first, and rank, expressed\nThe thoughts that filled his prudent breast:\n\u201cNo marvel thou rememberest yet\nThe service thou shouldst ne\u2019er forget,\nHow the brave prince of Raghu\u2019s seed\nThy days from fear and peril freed;\nAnd B\u00e1li for thy sake o\u2019erthrew,\nWhom Indra\u2019s self might scarce subdue.\nI doubt not R\u00e1ma\u2019s anger burns\nFor the scant love thy heart returns.\nFor this he sends his brother, him\nWhose glory never waxes dim.\nSunk in repose thy careless eye\nMarks not the seasons as they fly,\nNor sees that autumn has begun\nWith dark blooms opening to the sun.\nClear is the sky: no cloudlet mars\nThe splendour of the shining stars.\nThe balmy air is soft and still,\nAnd clear and bright are lake and rill.\nThou heedest not with blinded eyes\nThe hour for warlike enterprise.\nHence Lakshma\u1e47 hither comes to break\nThy slothful trance and bid thee wake.\nThen, Monarch, with a patient ear\nThe high-souled R\u00e1ma\u2019s message hear,\nWhich, reft of wife and realm and friends,\nThus by another\u2019s mouth he sends.\nThou, V\u00e1nar King, hast done amiss:\nAnd now I see no way but this:\nBefore his envoy humbly stand\nAnd sue for peace with suppliant hand.\nHigh duty bids a courtier seek\nHis master\u2019s weal, and freely speak.\nSo by no thought of fear controlled\nMy speech, O King, is free and bold,\nFor R\u00e1ma, if his anger glow,\nCan, with the terrors of his bow\nThis earth with all the Gods subdue,\nGandharvas,(635) and the demon crew.\nUnwise to stir his wrathful mood\nWhose favour must again be wooed.\nAnd, most of all, unwise for one\nGrateful like thee for service done.\nGo with thy son and kinsmen: bend\nThy humble head and greet thy friend.\nAnd, like a fond obedient spouse,\nBe faithful to thy plighted vows.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIII. Lakshman\u2019s Entry.\n\n\nThrough the fair city Lakshma\u1e47 came,\nInvited in Sugr\u00edva\u2019s name.\nWithin the gates the guardian bands,\nOf V\u00e1nars raised their suppliant hands,\nAnd in their ordered ranks, amazed,\nUpon the princely hero gazed,\nThey marked each burning breath he drew,\nThe fury of his soul they knew.\nTheir hearts were chilled with sudden fear:\nThey gazed, but dared not venture near,\nBefore his eyes the city, gay\nWith gems and flowery gardens, lay,\nWhere fane and palace rose on high,\nAnd things of beauty charmed the eye.\nWhere trees of every blossom grew\nYielding their fruit in season due\nTo V\u00e1nars of celestial seed\nWho wore each varied form at need,\nFair-faced and glorious with the shine\nOf heavenly robes and wreaths divine.\nThere sandal, aloe, lotus bloomed,\nAnd there delicious breath perfumed\nThe city\u2019s broad street, redolent\nOf sugary mead(636) and honey scent.\nThere many a lofty palace rose\nLike Vindhya or the Lord of Snows,\nAnd with sweet murmur sparkling rills\nLeapt lightly down the sheltering hills.\nOn many a glorious palace, raised\nFor prince and noble,(637) Lakshma\u1e47 gazed:\nLike clouds of paly hue they shone\nWith fragrant wreaths that hung thereon:\nThere wealth of jewels was enshrined,\nAnd fairer gems of womankind.\nThere gleamed, of noble height and size,\nLike Indra\u2019s mansion in the skies,\nProtected by a crystal fence\nOf rock, the royal residence,\nWith roof and turret high and bright\nLike Mount Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s loftiest height.\nThere blooming trees, Mahendra\u2019s gift,\nHigh o\u2019er the walls were seen to lift\nTheir golden fruited boughs, that made\nWith leaf and flower delicious shade.\nHe saw a band of V\u00e1nars wait,\nWielding their weapons, at the gate\nWhere golden portals flashed between\nCelestial garlands red and green.\nWithin Sugr\u00edva\u2019s fair abode\nUnchecked the mighty hero strode,\nAs when the sun of autumn shrouds\nHis glory in a pile of clouds.\nThrough seven wide courts he quickly passed,\nAnd reached the royal tower at last,\nWhere seats were set with couch and bed\nOf gold and silver richly spread.\nWhile the young chieftain\u2019s feet drew near\nThe sound of music reached his ear,\nAs the soft breathings of the flute\nCame blending with the voice and lute.\nThen beauty showed her youth and grace\nAnd varied charm of form and face:\nSoft bright-eyed creatures, fair and young,\u2014\nGay garlands round their necks were hung,\nAnd greater charms to each were lent\nBy richest dress and ornament.\nHe saw the calm attendants wait\nAbout their lord in careless state,\nHeard women\u2019s girdles chime in sweet\nAccordance with their tinkling feet.\nHe heard the anklet\u2019s silvery sound,\nHe saw the calm that reigned around,\nAnd o\u2019er him, as he listened, came\nA rush of rage, a flood of shame.\nHe drew his bowstring: with the clang\nFrom ease to west the welkin rang:\nThen in his modest mood withdrew\nA little from the ladies\u2019 view.\nAnd sternly silent stood apart,\nWhile wrath for R\u00e1ma filled his heart.\nSugr\u00edva knew the sounding string,\nAnd at the call the V\u00e1nar king\nSprang swiftly from his golden seat,\nAnd feared the coming prince to meet.\nThen with cold lips that terror dried\nTo beauteous T\u00e1r\u00e1 thus he cried:\n\u201cWhat cause of anger, O my spouse\nFair with the charm of lovely brows,\nSets Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s gentle breast on fire,\nAnd brings him in unwonted ire?\nSay, canst thou see, O faultless dame,\nA cause to fill his soul with flame?\nFor there must be a reason when\nSuch fury stirs the king of men.\nReveal the sin, if sin of mine\nAnger the lord of Raghu\u2019s line.\nOr go thyself, his rage subdue,\nAnd with soft words his favour woo.\nSoon as on thee his eyes are set\nHis heart this anger will forget,\nFor men like him of lofty mind\nAre never stern with womankind.\nFirst let thy gentle speech disarm\nHis fury, and his spirit charm,\nAnd I, from fear of peril free,\nThe conqueror of his foes will see.\u201d\n\n  She heard: with faltering steps and slow,\nWith eyes that shone with trembling glow,\nWith gold-girt body gently bent\nTo meet the stranger prince she went.\nWhen Lakshma\u1e47 saw the V\u00e1nar queen\nWith tranquil eyes and modest mien,\nBefore the dame he bent his head,\nAnd anger, at her presence, fled.\nMade bold by draughts of wine, and cheered\nBy Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s look no more she feared,\nAnd in the trust his favour lent\nShe thus addressed him eloquent:\n\u201cWhence springs thy burning fury? say:\nWho dares thy will to disobey?\nWho checks the maddened flames that seize\nOn forests full of withered trees?\u201d\n\n  Then Lakshma\u1e47 spoke, her mind to ease,\nHis kind reply in words like these:\n\n  \u201cThy lord his days in pleasure spends,\nHeedless of duty and of friends,\nNor dost thou mark, though fondly true,\nThe evil path his steps pursue.\nHe cares not for affairs of state,\nNor us forlorn and desolate,\nBut sits a mere spectator still,\nA sensual slave to pleasure\u2019s will.\nFour months were fixed, the time agreed\nWhen he should help us in our need:\nBut, bound in toils of pleasure fast,\nHe sees not that the months are past.\nWhere beats the heart which draughts of wine\nTo virtue or to gain incline?\nHast thou not heard those draughts destroy\nVirtue and gain and love and joy?\nFor those who, helped at need, refuse\nTheir aid in turn, their virtue lose:\nAnd they who scorn a friend disdain\nA treasure naught may buy again.\nThy lord has cast his friend away,\nNor feared from virtue\u2019s path to stray,\nIf this be true, declare, O dame\nWho knowest duty\u2019s every claim,\nWhat further work remains for us\nDeceived and disappointed thus.\u201d\n\n  She listened, for his words were kind,\nWhere virtue showed with gain combined,\nAnd thus in turn the prince addressed,\nAs hope was rising in his breast:\n\u201cNo time, no cause of wrath I see\nWith those who live and honour thee:\nAnd thou shouldst bear without offence\nThy servant\u2019s fitful negligence.\nI know the seasons glide away,\nWhile R\u00e1ma maddens at delay\nI know what deed our thanks has earned,\nI know that grace should be returned.\nBut still I know, whate\u2019er befall,\nThat conquering love is lord of all;\nKnow where Sugr\u00edva\u2019s thoughts, possessed\nBy one absorbing passion, rest.\nBut he whom sensual joys debase\nHeeds not the claim of time and place,\nAnd sees not with his blinded sight\nHis duty or his gain aright.\nO pardon him who loves me! spare\nThe V\u00e1nar caught in pleasure\u2019s snare,\nAnd once again let R\u00e1ma grace\nWith favour him who rules our race.\nE\u2019en royal saints, whose chief delight\nWas penance and austerest rite,\nAt love\u2019s commandment have unbent,\nBeguiled by sweetest blandishment.\nAnd know, Sugr\u00edva, roused at last,\nThe order to his lords has passed,\nAnd, long by love and bliss delayed,\nWakes all on fire your hopes to aid.\nA countless host his city fills,\nNew-gathered from a thousand hills:\nImpetuous chiefs, who wear at need\nEach varied form, his legions lead.\nCome then, O hero, kept aloof\nBy modest awe, nor fear reproof:\nA faithful friend untouched by blame\nMay look upon another\u2019s dame.\u201d\n\n  He passed within, by T\u00e1r\u00e1 pressed,\nAnd by his own impatient breast,\nRefulgent there in sunlike sheen\nSugr\u00edva on his throne was seen.\nGay garlands round his neck were twined,\nAnd Rum\u00e1 by her lord recline.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIV. Lakshman\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nSugr\u00edva started from his rest\nWith doubt and terror in his breast.\nHe heard the prince\u2019s furious tread\nHe saw his eyes glow fiercely red.\nSwift sprang the monarch to his feet\nUpstarting from his golden seat.\nRose Rum\u00e1 and her fellows, too,\nAnd closely round Sugr\u00edva drew,\nAs round the moon\u2019s full glory stand\nAttendant stars in glittering band.\nSugr\u00edva glanced with reddened eyes,\nRaised his joined hands in suppliant guise\nFlew to the door, and rooted there\nStood like the tree that grants each prayer.(638)\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 saw, and, fiercely moved,\nWith angry speech the king reproved:\n\n  \u201cFamed is the prince who loves the truth,\nWhose soul is touched with tender ruth,\nWho, liberal, keeps each sense subdued,\nAnd pays the debt of gratitude.\nBut all unmeet a king to be,\nThe meanest of the mean is he\nWho basely breaks the promise made\nTo trusting friends who lent him aid.\nHe sins who for a steed has lied,\nAs if a hundred steeds had died:\nOr if he lie, a cow to win,\nTenfold as heavy is the sin.\nBut if the lie a man betray,\nBoth he and his shall all decay.(639)\nO V\u00e1nar King, the thankless man\nIs worthy of the general ban,\nWho takes assistance of his friends,\nAnd in his turn no service lends.\nThis verse of old by Brahm\u00e1 sung\nIs echoed now by every tongue.\nHear what He cried in angry mood\nBewailing man\u2019s ingratitude:\n\u201cFor draughts of wine, for slaughtered cows,\nFor treacherous theft, for broken vows\nA pardon is ordained: but none\nFor thankless scorn of service done.\u201d\nUngrateful, V\u00e1nar King, art thou,\nAnd faithless to thy plighted vow.\nFor R\u00e1ma brought thee help, and yet\nThou shunnest to repay the debt:\nOr, grateful, thou hadst surely pressed\nTo aid the hero in his quest.\nThou art, in vulgar pleasures drowned,\nFalse to thy bond in honour bound.\nNor yet has R\u00e1ma\u2019s guileless heart\nDiscerned thee for the thing thou art\u2014\nA snake who holds the frogs that cries\nAnd lures fresh victims as it dies.\nBrave R\u00e1ma, born for glorious fate,\nHas set thee in thy high estate,\nAnd to the V\u00e1nars\u2019 throne restored,\nGreat-souled himself, their mean-souled lord.\nNow if thy pride disown what he,\nHigh thoughted prince, has done for thee,\nStruck by his arrows shalt thou fall,\nAnd B\u00e1li meet in Y\u00e1ma\u2019s hall.\nStill open, to the gloomy God,\nLies the sad path thy brother trod.\nThen to thy plighted word be true,\nNor let thy steps that path pursue.\nMethinks the shafts of R\u00e1ma, shot\nLike thunderbolts, thou heedest not,\nWho canst, absorbed in sensual bliss,\nThy promise from thy mind dismiss.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXV. T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nHe ceased: and T\u00e1r\u00e1 starry-eyed\nThus to the angry prince replied:\n\u201cNot to my lord shouldst thou address\nA speech so fraught with bitterness:\nNot thus reproached my lord should be,\nAnd least of all, O Prince, by thee.\nHe is no thankless coward\u2014no\u2014\nWith spirit dead to valour\u2019s glow.\nFrom paths of truth he never strays,\nNor wanders in forbidden ways.\nNe\u2019er will Sugr\u00edva\u2019s heart forget,\nBy R\u00e1ma saved, the lasting debt.\nStill in his grateful breast will live\nThe succour none but he could give.\nRestored to fame by R\u00e1ma\u2019s grace,\nTo empire o\u2019er the V\u00e1nar race,\nFrom ceaseless dread and toil set free,\nRestored to Rum\u00e1 and to me:\nBy grief and care and exile tried,\nNew to the bliss so long denied,\nLike Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra once, alas,\nHe marks not how the seasons pass.\nThat saint ten thousand years remained,\nBy sweet Ghrit\u00e1ch\u00ed\u2019s(640) love enchained,\nAnd deemed those years, that flew away\nSo lightly, but a single day.\nO, if those years unheeded flew\nBy him who times and seasons knew,\nUnequalled for his lofty mind,\nWhat marvel meaner eyes are blind?\nThen be not angry, Raghu\u2019s son,\nAnd let thy brother feel for one\nWho many a weary year has spent\nStranger to love and blandishment.\nLet not this wrath thy soul inflame,\nLike some mean wretch unknown to fame:\nFor high and noble hearts like thine\nLove mercy and to ruth incline,\nCalm and deliberate, and slow\nWith anger\u2019s raging fire to glow.\nAt length, O righteous prince, relent,\nNor let my words in vain be spent,\nThis sudden blaze of fury slake,\nI pray thee for Sugr\u00edva\u2019s sake.\nHe would renounce at R\u00e1ma\u2019s call\nRum\u00e1 and Angad, me and all\nWho call him lord: his gold and grain,\nThe favour of his friend to gain.\nHis arm shall slay the fiend more base\nIn soul than all his impious race,\nAnd happy R\u00e1ma reunite\nTo S\u00edt\u00e1, rival in delight\nOf the triumphant Moon when he\nRejoins his darling Rohi\u1e47\u00ed.(641)\nTen million million demons guard\nThe gates of Lank\u00e1 firmly barred.\nAll hope until that host be slain,\nTo smite the robber king is vain.\nNor with Sugr\u00edva\u2019s aid alone\nMay king and host be overthrown.\nThus ere he died\u2014for well he knew\u2014\nSpake B\u00e1li, and his words are true.\nI know not what his proofs might be,\nBut speak the words he spake to me.\nHence far and wide our lords are sent\nTo raise the mightiest armament,\nFor their return Sugr\u00edva waits\nEre he can sally from his gates.\nStill is the oath Sugr\u00edva swore\nKept firmly even as before:\nAnd the great host this day will be\nAssembled by the king\u2019s decree,\nTen thousand thousand troops, who wear\nThe form of monkey and of bear,\nPrepared for thee the war to wage:\nThen let thy wrath no longer rage.\nThe matrons of the V\u00e1nar race\nSee marks of fury in thy face;\nThey see thine eyes like blood are red,\nAnd will not yet be comforted.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVI. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nShe ceased: and Lakshma\u1e47 gave assent,\nWon by her gentle argument.\nSo T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s pleading, just and mild,\nHis softening heart had reconciled.\nHis altered mood Sugr\u00edva saw,\nAnd cast aside the fear and awe\nLike raiment heavy with the rain\nWhich on his troubled soul had lain.\nThen quickly to the ground he threw\nHis flowery garland, bright of hue,\nWhich round his royal neck he wore,\nAnd, sobered, was himself once more.\nThen turning to the princely man\nIn soothing words the king began:\n\u201cMy glory, wealth, and royal sway\nTo other hands had passed away:\nBut R\u00e1ma to my rescue came,\nAnd gave me back my power and fame.\nO Lakshma\u1e47, say, whose grateful heart\nCould nurse the hope to pay in part,\nBy service of a life, the deed\nOf R\u00e1ma sprung of heavenly seed?\nHis foeman R\u00e1va\u1e47 shall be slain,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 shall be his again.\nThe hero\u2019s side I will not leave,\nBut he the conquest shall achieve.\nWhat need of help has he who drew\nHis bow, and one great arrow flew\nThrough seven tall trees, a mountain rent,\nAnd cleft the earth with force unspent?\nWhat aid needs he who shook his bow,\nAnd at the sound the earth below\nWith hill and wood and rooted rock\nQuaked feverous with the thunder shock?\nYet all my legions will I bring,\nAnd follow close the warrior king\nMarching on his impetuous way\nFierce R\u00e1va\u1e47 and his hosts to slay.\nIf I be guilty of offence,\nCareless through love or negligence,\nLet him his loyal slave forgive;\nFor error cleaves to all who live.\u201d\n\n  Thus king Sugr\u00edva, good and brave,\nIn humble words his answer gave,\nSoftened was Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s angry mood\nWho thus his friendly speech renewed:\n\u201cMy brother, V\u00e1nar King, will see\nA champion and a friend in thee.\nSo strong art thou, so brave and bold,\nSo pure in thought, so humble-souled,\nThat thou deservest well to reign\nAnd all a monarch\u2019s bliss to gain.\nLend thou my brother aid, and all\nHis foes beneath his arm will fall.\nFull well the words thou speakest suit\nA chieftain wise and resolute.\nWith grateful heart that loves the right,\nAnd foot that never yields in fight.\nO come, and my sad brother cheer\nWho mourns the wife he holds so dear.\nO pardon, friend, my harsh address,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s frantic bitterness.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVII. The Gathering.\n\n\nHe ceased: and King Sugr\u00edva cried\nTo sage Han\u00fam\u00e1n(642) by his side:\n\u201cSummon the V\u00e1nar legions, those\nWho dwell about the Lord of Snows:\nThose who in Vindhyan groves delight,\nKail\u00e1sa\u2019s, or Mahendra\u2019s height,\nDwell on the Five bright Peaks, or where\nMandar\u2019s white summit cleaves the air:\nWherever they are wandring free\nIn highlands by the western sea,\nOn that east hill whence springs the sun,\nOr where he sinks when day is done.\nCall the great chiefs whose legions fill\nThe forests of the Lotus Hill,(643)\nWhere every one in strength and size\nWith the stupendous Anjan(644) vies.\nCall those, with tints of burnished gold\nWhom Mah\u00e1\u015baila\u2019s caverns hold:\nThose who on Dh\u00famra roam, or hide\nIn the wild woods on Meru\u2019s side.\nCall those who, brilliant as the sun,\nOn high Mah\u00e1ru\u1e47 leap and run,\nQuaffing sweet juices that distil\nFrom odorous trees upon the hill,\nCall those whom tranquil haunts delight,\nWhere dwell the sage and anchorite\nIn groves that through their wide extent\nExhale a thousand blossoms\u2019 scent.\nSend out, send out: from coast to coast\nAssemble all the V\u00e1nar host:\nWith force, with words, with gifts of price\nCompel, admonish and entice.\nAlready envoys have been sent\nTo warn them of their lord\u2019s intent.\nLet others urged by thee repeat\nMy mandate that their steps be fleet.\nThose lords who yielding to the sway\nOf love\u2019s delight would fain delay,\nUrge hither with the utmost speed,\nOr with thee to my presence lead:\nAnd those who linger to the last\nUntil ten days be come and passed,\nAnd dare their sovereign to defy,\nFor their offence shall surely die.\nThousands, yea millions, shall there be,\nObedient to their king\u2019s decree,\nThe lions of the V\u00e1nar race,\nAssembled from each distant place,\nForth shall they haste like hills in size,\nOr mighty clouds that veil the skies,\nAnd swiftly speeding on their way\nBring all our legions in array.\u201d\nHe ceased: the son of V\u00e1yu(645) heard,\nSubmissive to his sovereign\u2019s word;\nAnd sent his rapid envoys forth\nTo east and west and south and north.\nThey bent their airy course afar\nAlong the paths of bird and star,\nAnd sped through ether farther yet\nWhere Vish\u1e47u\u2019s splendid sphere is set.(646)\nBy sea, on hill, by wood and lake\nThey called to arms for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake,\nAs each with terror in his breast\nObeyed his awful king\u2019s behest.\nThree million V\u00e1nars, fierce and strong\nAs Anjan\u2019s self, a wondrous throng\nSped from the spot where R\u00e1ma still\nGazed restless from the woody hill.\nTen million others, brave and bold,\nWith coats that shone like burning gold,\nCame flying from the mountain crest\nWhere sinks the weary sun to rest.\nImpetuous from the northern skies,\nWhere Mount Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s summits rise,\nTen hundred millions hasted, hued\nLike manes of lions, ne\u2019er subdued:\nThe dwellers on Him\u00e1laya\u2019s side,\nWhose food his roots and fruit supplied,\nWith rangers of the Vindhyan chain\nAnd neighbours of the Milky Main.(647)\nSome from the palm groves where they fed,\nSome from the woods of betel sped:\nIn countless numbers, fierce and brave,\nThey came from mountain, lake, and cave.\n\n  As on their way the V\u00e1nars went\nTo rouse each distant armament,\nThey chanced that wondrous tree to view\nThat on Him\u00e1laya\u2019s summit grew.\nOf old upon that sacred height\nWas wrought Mahe\u015bvar\u2019s(648) glorious rite,\nWhich every God in heaven beheld,\nAnd his glad heart with triumph swelled.\nThere from pure seed at random sown\nBright plants with luscious fruit had grown,\nAnd, sweet as Amrit to the taste,\nThe summit of the mountain graced.\nWho once should eat the virtuous fruit\nThat sprang from so divine a root,\nOne whole revolving moon should be\nFrom every pang of hunger free.\nThe V\u00e1nars culled the fruit they found\nRipe on the sacrificial ground\nWith rare celestial odours sweet,\nTo lay them at Sugr\u00edva\u2019s feet.\nThose noble envoys scoured the land\nTo summon every V\u00e1nar band\nThen swiftly homeward at the head\nOf countless armaments they sped.\nThey gathered by Kishkindh\u00e1\u2019s wall.\nThey thronged Sugr\u00edva\u2019s palace hall,\nAnd, richly laden, bare within\nThat fruit of heavenly origin.\nTheir gifts before their king they spread,\nAnd thus in tones of triumph said:\n\n  \u201cThrough every land our way we took\nTo visit hill and wood and brook,\nAnd all thy hosts from east to west\nFlock hither at their lord\u2019s behest.\u201d\nSugr\u00edva with delighted look\nThe present of his envoys took,\nThen bade them go, with gracious speech\nRewarding and dismissing each.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVIII. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Departure.\n\n\nThus all the princely V\u00e1nars, true\nTo their appointed tasks, withdrew.\nSugr\u00edva deemed already done\nThe work he planned for Raghu\u2019s son.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 gently spoke and cheered\nSugr\u00edva for his valour feared:\n\u201cNow, chieftain, if thy will be so,\nForth from Kishkindh\u00e1 let us go.\u201d\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s heart swelled high with pride\nAs to the prince he thus replied:\n\u201cCome, speed we forth without delay:\n\u2019Tis mine thy mandate to obey.\u201d\nSugr\u00edva bade the dames adieu,\nAnd T\u00e1r\u00e1 and the rest withdrew.\nThen at their chieftain\u2019s summons came\nThe V\u00e1nars first in rank and fame,\nA trusty brave and reverent band,\nMeet e\u2019en before a queen to stand.\nThey at his call made haste to bring\nThe litter of the glorious king.\n\u201cMount, O my friend.\u201d Sugr\u00edva cried,\nAnd straight Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son complied.\nThen took by Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side his place\nThe sovereign of the woodland race,\nUpraised by V\u00e1nars, fleet and strong,\nWho bore the glittering load along.\nOn high above his royal head\nA paly canopy was spread,\nAnd chouries white in many a hand\nThe forehead of the monarch fanned,\nAnd shell and drum and song and shout\nPealed round him as the king passed out.\nAbout the monarch went a throng\nOf V\u00e1nar warriors brave and strong,\nAs onward to the mountain shade\nWhere R\u00e1ma dwelt his way he made.\nSoon as the lovely spot he viewed\nWhere R\u00e1ma lived in solitude,\nThe V\u00e1nar monarch, far-renowed,\nWith Lakshma\u1e47, lightly stepped to ground,\nAnd to the son of Raghu went\nJoining his raised hands reverent.\nAs their great leader raised his hands,\nSo suppliant stood the V\u00e1nar bands.\nWell pleased the son of Raghu saw\nThose legions, hushed in reverent awe,\nStand silent like the tranquil floods\nThat raise their hands of lotus buds.\nBut R\u00e1ma, when the king, to greet\nHis friend, had bowed him at his feet,\nRaised him who ruled the V\u00e1nar race,\nAnd held him in a close embrace:\nThen, when his arms he had unknit,\nBesought him by his side to sit,\nAnd thus with gentle words the best\nOf men the V\u00e1nar king addressed:\n\n  \u201cThe prince who well his days divides,\nAnd knows aright the times and tides\nTo follow duty, joy, or gain,\nHe, only he, deserves to reign.\nBut he who wealth and virtue leaves,\nAnd every hour to pleasure cleaves,\nFalls from his bliss like him who wakes\nFrom slumber on a branch that breaks.\nTrue king is he who smites his foes,\nAnd favour to his servants shows,\nAnd of that fruit makes timely use\nWhich virtue, wealth, and joy produce.\nThe hour is come that bids thee rise\nTo aid me in my enterprise.\nThen call thy nobles to debate,\nAnd with their help deliberate.\u201d\n\n  \u201cLost was my power,\u201d the king replied,\n\u201cAll strength had fled, all hope had died.\nThe V\u00e1nars owned another lord,\nBut by thy grace was all restored.\nAll this, O conqueror of the foe,\nTo thee and Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s aid I owe.\nAnd his should be the villain\u2019s shame\nWho durst deny the sacred claim.\nThese V\u00e1nar chiefs of noblest birth\nHave at my bidding roamed the earth,\nAnd brought from distant regions all\nOur legions at their monarch\u2019s call:\nFierce bears with monkey troops combined,\nAnd apes of every varied kind,\nTerrific in their forms, who dwell\nIn grove and wood and bosky dell:\nThe bright Gandharvas\u2019 brood, the seed\nOf Gods,(649) they change their shapes at need.\nEach with his legions in array,\nHither, O Prince, they make their way.\nThey come: and tens of millions swell\nTo numbers that no tongue may tell.(650)\nFor thee their armies will unite\nWith chiefs, Mahendra\u2019s peers in might.\nFrom Meru and from Vindhya\u2019s chain\nThey come like clouds that bring the rain.\nThese round thee to the war will go,\nTo smite to earth thy demon foe;\nWill slay the R\u00e1kshas and restore\nThy consort when the fight is o\u2019er.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIX. The V\u00e1nar Host.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, best of all who guide\nTheir steps by duty, thus replied:\n\u201cWhat marvel if Lord Indra send\nThe kindly rain, O faithful friend?\nIf, thousand-rayed, the God of Day\nDrive every darksome cloud away?\nOr, rising high, the Lord of Night\nFlood the broad heaven with silver light?\nWhat marvel, King, that one like thee\nThe glory of his friends should be?\nNo marvel, O my lord, that thou\nHast shown thy noble nature now.\nThy heart, Sugr\u00edva, well I know:\nNaught from thy lips but truth may flow,\nWith thee for friend and champion all\nMy foes beneath my arm will fall.\nThe R\u00e1kshas, when my queen he stole,\nBrought sure destruction on his soul,\nLike Anuhl\u00e1da(651) who beguiled\nQueen \u015aach\u00ed called Puloma\u2019s child.\nYes, near, Sugr\u00edva, is the day\nWhen I my demon foe shall slay,\nAs conquering Indra in his ire\nSlew Queen Paulom\u00ed\u2019s haughty sire.\u201d(652)\nHe ceased: thick clouds of dust rose high\nTo every quarter of the sky:\nThe very sun grew faint and pale\nBehind the darkly-gathering veil.\nThe mighty clouds that hung o\u2019erhead\nFrom east to west thick darkness spread,\nAnd earth to her foundations shook\nWith hill and forest, lake and brook.\nThen hidden was the ground beneath\nFierce warriors armed with fearful teeth,\nHosts numberless, each lord in size\nA match for him who rules the skies:\nFrom many a sea and distant hill,\nFrom rock and river, lake and rill.\nSome like the morning sun were bright,\nSome, like the moon, were silver white:\nThese green as lotus fibres, those\nWhite-coated from their native snows.(653)\nThen \u015aatabali came in view\nGirt by a countless retinue.\nLike some gold mountain high in air\nT\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s illustrious sire(654) was there.\nThere Rum\u00e1\u2018s father,(655) far-renowned,\nWith tens of thousands ranged around.\nThere, tinted like the tender green\nOf lotus filaments, was seen,\nCompassed by countless legions, one\nWhose face was as the morning sun,\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s father good and great,\nKesar\u00ed,(656) wisest in debate.\nThere the proud king Gav\u00e1ksha, feared\nFor his strong warrior arm, appeared.\nThere Dh\u00famra, mighty lord, the dread\nOf foes, his ursine legions led.\nThere Panas, first for warlike fame,\nWith twenty million warriors came.\nThere glorious N\u00edla, dark of hue,\nArrayed his countless troops in view.\nThere moved lord Gavaya brave and bold,\nResplendent like a hill of gold,\nAnd near him Dar\u00edmukha stood\nWith millions from the hill and wood\nAnd Dwivid famed for strength and speed,\nAnd Mamda, both of A\u015bvin seed.\nThere Gaja, strong and glorious, led\nThe countless troops around him spread,\nAnd J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n(657) the king whose sway\nThe bears delighted to obey,\nWith swarming myriads onward pressed\nTrue to his lord Sugr\u00edva\u2019s hest;\nAnd princely Ruman, dear to fame,\nLed millions whom no hosts could tame,\nAll these and many a chief beside(658)\nCame onward fierce in warlike pride.\nThey covered all the plain, and still\nPressed forward over wood and hill.\nIn rows for many a league around\nThey rested on the grassy ground;\nOr to Sugr\u00edva made their way,\nLike clouds about the Lord of Day,\nAnd to the king their proud heads bent\nIn power and might preeminent.\nSugr\u00edva then to R\u00e1ma sped,\nAnd raised his reverent hands, and said\nThat every chief from coast to coast\nWas present with his warrior host.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XL. The Army Of The East.\n\n\nWith practised eye the king reviewed\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 countless multitude,\nAnd, joying that his hest was done,\nThus spake to Raghu\u2019s mighty son:\n\u201cSee, all the V\u00e1nar hosts who fear\nMy sovereign might are gathered here.\nChiefs strong as Indra\u2019s self, who speed\nWher\u2019er they list, these armies lead.\nFierce and terrific to the view\nAs Daityas or the D\u00e1nav(659) crew,\nFamed in all lands for souls afire\nWith lofty thoughts, they never tire,\nO\u2019er hill and vale they wander free,\nAnd islets of the distant sea.\nAnd these gathered myriads, all\nWill serve thee, R\u00e1ma, at thy call.\nWhate\u2019er thy heart advises, say:\nThy mandates will the host obey.\u201d\n\n  Then answered R\u00e1ma, as he pressed\nThe V\u00e1nar monarch to his breast:\n\u201cO search for my lost S\u00edt\u00e1, strive\nTo find her if she still survive:\nAnd in thy wondrous wisdom trace\nFierce R\u00e1va\u1e47 to his dwelling-place.\nAnd when by toil and search we know\nWhere S\u00edt\u00e1 lies and where the foe,\nWith thee, dear friend, will I devise\nFit means to end the enterprise.\nNot mine, not Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s is the power\nTo guide us in the doubtful hour.\nThou, sovereign of the V\u00e1nars, thou\nMust be our hope and leader now.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: at King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s call\nNear came a V\u00e1nar strong and tall.\nHuge as a towering mountain, loud\nAs some tremendous thunder cloud,\nA prince who warlike legions led:\nTo him his sovereign turned and said:\n\u201cGo, take ten thousand(660) of our race\nWell trained in lore of time and place,\nAnd search the eastern region; through\nGroves, woods, and hills thy way pursue.\nThere seek for S\u00edt\u00e1, trace the spot\nWhere R\u00e1va\u1e47 hides, and weary not.\nSearch for the captive in the caves\nOf mountains, and by woods and waves.\nTo Sarj\u00fa,(661) Kau\u015bik\u00ed,(662) repair,\nBhag\u00edrath\u2019s daughter(663) fresh and fair.\nSearch mighty Yamun\u2019s(664) peak, explore\nSwift Yamun\u00e1\u2019s(665) delightful shore,\nSarasvati(666) and Sindhu\u2019s(667) tide,\nAnd rapid \u015aona\u2019s(668) pebbly side.\nThen roam afar by Mah\u00ed\u2019s(669) bed\nWhere K\u00e1lamah\u00ed\u2019s groves are spread.\nGo where the silken tissue shines,\nGo to the land of silver mines.(670)\nVisit each isle and mountain steep\nAnd city circled by the deep,\nAnd distant villages that high\nAbout the peaks of Mandar lie.\nSpeed over Yavadwipa\u2019s land,(671)\nAnd see Mount \u015ai\u015bir(672) proudly stand\nUplifting to the skies his head\nBy Gods and D\u00e1navs visited.\nSearch each ravine and mountain pass,\nEach tangled thicket deep in grass.\nSearch every cave with utmost care\nIf haply R\u00e1ma\u2019s queen be there.\nThen pass beyond the sounding sea\nWhere heavenly beings wander free,\nAnd \u015aona\u2019s(673) waters swift and strong\nWith ruddy billows foam along.\nSearch where his shelving banks descend,\nSearch where the hanging woods extend.\nTry if the pathless thickets screen\nThe robber and the captive queen.\nSearch where the torrent floods that rend\nThe mountain to the plains descend:\nSearch dark abysses where they rave,\nSearch mountain slope and wood and cave\nThen on with rapid feet and gain\nThe inlands of the fearful main\nWhere, tortured by the tempest\u2019s lash,\nAgainst rude rocks the billows dash:\nAn ocean like a sable cloud,\nWhose margent monstrous serpents crowd:\nAn ocean rising with a roar\nTo beat upon an iron shore.\nOn, onward still! your feet shall tread\nShores of the sea whose waves are red,\nWhere spreading wide your eyes shall see\nThe guilt-tormenting cotton tree(674)\nAnd the wild spot where Garu\u1e0d(675) dwells\nWhich gems adorn and ocean shells,\nHigh as Kail\u00e1sa, nobly decked,\nWrought by the heavenly architect.(676)\nHuge giants named Mandehas(677) there\nIn each foul shape they love to wear,\nNumbing the soul with terror\u2019s chill,\nHang from the summit of the hill.\nWhen darts the sun his earliest beam\nThey plunge them in the ocean stream,\nNew vigour from his rays obtain,\nAnd hang upon the rocks again.\nSpeed onward still: your steps shall be\nAt length beside the Milky Sea\nWhose every ripple as it curls\nGleams glorious with its wealth of pearls.\nAmid that sea like pale clouds spread\nThe white Mount Rishabh(678) rears his head.\nAbout the mountain\u2019s glorious waist\nWoods redolent of bloom are braced.\nA lake where lotuses unfold\nTheir silver buds with threads of gold,\nSudar\u015ban ever bright and fair\nWhere white swans sport, lies gleaming there,\nThe wandering Kinnar\u2019s(679) dear resort,\nWhere heavenly nymphs and Yakshas(680) sport.\nOn! leave the Milky Sea behind:\nAnother flood your search shall find,\nA waste of waters, wild and drear,\nThat chills each living heart with fear.\nThere see the horse\u2019s awful head,\nWrath-born, that flames in Ocean\u2019s bed.(681)\nThere rises up a fearful cry\nFrom the sea things that move thereby,\nWhen, helpless, powerless for flight,\nThey gaze upon the horrid sight.\nPast to the northern shore, and then\nBeyond the flood three leagues and ten\nYour wondering glances will behold\nMount J\u00e1tar\u00fapa(682) bright with gold.\nThere like the young moon pale of hue\nThe monstrous serpent(683) will ye view,\nThe earth\u2019s supporter, whose bright eyes\nResemble lotus leaves in size.\nHe rests upon the mountain\u2019s brow,\nAnd all the Gods before him bow.\nAnanta with a thousand heads\nHis length in robes of azure spreads.\nA triple-headed palm of gold\u2014\nMeet standard for the lofty-souled\u2014\nSprings towering from the mountain\u2019s crest\nBeneath whose shade he loves to rest,\nSo that in eastern realms each God\nMay use it as a measuring-rod.\nBeyond, with burning gold aglow,\nThe eastern steep his peaks will show,\nWhich in unrivalled glory rise\nA hundred leagues to pierce the skies,\nAnd all the neighbouring air is bright\nWith golden trees that clothe the height.\nA lofty peak uprises there\nTen leagues in height and one league square\nSaumanas, wrought of glistering gold,\nNe\u2019er to be loosened from its hold.\nThere his first step Lord Vish\u1e47u placed\nWhen through the universe he paced,\nAnd with his second lightly pressed\nThe loftiest peak of Meru\u2019s crest.\nWhen north of Jambudw\u00edp(684) the sun\nA portion of his course has run,\nAnd hangs above this mountain height,\nThen creatures see the genial light.\nVaikh\u00e1nases,(685) saints far renowned,\nAnd B\u00e1lakhilyas(686) love the ground\nWhere in their glory half divine,\nTouched by the morning glow, they shine\nThe light that flashes from that steep\nIllumines all Sudar\u015bandw\u00edp,(687)\nAnd on each creature, as it glows,\nThe sight and strength of life bestows.\nSearch well that mountain\u2019s woody side\nIf R\u00e1va\u1e47 there his captive hide.\nThe rising sun, the golden hill\nThe air with growing splendours fill,\nTill flashes from the east the red\nOf morning with the light they shed.\nThis, where the sun begins his state,\nIs earth and heaven\u2019s most eastern gate.\nThrough all the mountain forest seek\nBy waterfall and cave and peak.\nSearch every nook and bosky dell,\nIf R\u00e1va\u1e47 there with S\u00edt\u00e1 dwell.\nThere, V\u00e1nars, there your steps must stay:\nNo farther eastward can ye stray.\nBeyond no sun, no moon gives light,\nBut all is sunk in endless night.\nThus far, O V\u00e1nar lords, may you\nO\u2019er sea and land your search pursue.\nBut wild and dark and known to none\nIs the drear space beyond the sun.\nThat mountain whence the sun ascends\nYour long and weary journey ends.(688)\nNow go, and in a month return,\nAnd let success my praises earn.\nHe who beyond tho month shall stay\nWill with his life the forfeit pay.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLI. The Army Of The South.\n\n\nHe gathered next a chosen band\nFor service in the southern land.\nHe summoned N\u00edla son of Fire,\nAnd, offspring of the eternal Sire,\nJ\u00e1mbav\u00e1n bold and strong and tall,\nAnd Hanum\u00e1n, the best of all,\nAnd many a valiant lord beside,(689)\nWith Angad for their chief and guide.\n\u201cGo forth,\u201d he cried, \u201cwith all this host\nExploring to the southern coast:\nThe thousand peaks that Vindhya shows\nWhere every tree and creeper grows:\nWhere Narmad\u00e1\u2019s(690) sweet waters run,\nAnd serpents bask them in the sun:\nWhere Krish\u1e47ave\u1e47\u00ed\u2019s(691) currents flee,\nAnd sparkles fair God\u00e1var\u00ed.(692)\nThrough Mekhal(693) pass and Utkal\u2019s(694) land:\nGo where Da\u015b\u00e1r\u1e47a\u2019s(695) cities stand.\nAvant\u00ed(696) seek, of high renown,\nAnd Abravanti\u2019s(697) glorious town.\nSearch every hill and brook and cave\nWhere Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s woods their branches wave\nAyomukh\u2019s(698) woody hill explore\nWhose sides are bright with richest ore,\nLifting his glorious head on high\nFrom bloomy groves that round him lie.\nSearch well his forests where the breeze\nBlows fragrant from the sandal trees.\nThen will you see K\u00e1ver\u00ed\u2019s(699) stream\nWhose pleasant waters glance and gleam,\nAnd to the lovely banks entice\nThe sportive maids of Paradise.\nHigh on the top of Malaya\u2019s(700) hill,\nIn holy musing, calm and still,\nSits, radiant as the Lord of Light,\nAgastya,(701) noblest anchorite.\nSoon as that lofty-thoughted lord\nHis high permission shall accord,\nPass T\u00e1mrapar\u1e47\u00ed\u2019s(702) flood whose isles\nAre loved by basking crocodiles.\nThe sandal woods that fringe her side\nThose islets and her waters hide;\nWhile, like an amorous matron, she\nSpeeds to her own dear lord the sea.\nThence hasting on your way behold\nThe P\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0dyas\u2019(703) gates of pearl and gold.\nThen, with your task maturely planned,\nOn ocean\u2019s shore your feet will stand.\nWhere, by Agastya\u2019s high decree,\nMahendra,(704) planted in the sea,\nWith tinted peaks against the tide\nRises in solitary pride,\nAnd glorious in his golden glow\nSpurns back the waves that beat below.\nFair mountain, bright with creepers\u2019 bloom\nAnd every tint that trees assume,\nWhere Yaksha, God, and heavenly maid\nMeet wandering in the lovely shade,\nAt changing moon and solemn tide\nBy Indra\u2019s presence glorified.\nOne hundred leagues in fair extent\nAn island(705) fronts the continent:\nNo man may tread its glittering shore,\nWith utmost heed that isle explore,\nFor the fair country owns the sway\nOf R\u00e1va\u1e47 whom we burn to slay.\nA mighty monster stands to keep\nThe passage of the southern deep.\nLifting her awful arms on high\nShe grasps e\u2019en shadows as they fly.\nSpeed through that isle, and onward still\nWhere in mid sea the Flowery Hill(706)\nRaises on high his bloomy head\nBy saints and angels visited.\nThere, with a hundred gleaming peaks\nBright as the sun, the sky he seeks,\nOne glorious peak the Lord of Day\nGilds ever with his loving ray;\nThereon ne\u2019er yet the glances fell\nOf thankless wretch or infidel.\nBow to that hill in reverence due,\nAnd then once more your search pursue.\nBeyond that glorious mountain hie,\nAnd S\u00faryav\u00e1n,(707) proud hill is nigh.\nYour rapid course yet farther bend\nWhere Vaidyut\u2019s(708) airy peaks ascend.\nThere trees of noblest sort, profuse\nOf wealth, their kindly gifts produce.\nTheir precious fruits, O V\u00e1nars, taste,\nThe honey sip, and onward haste.\nNext will ye see Mount Kunjar rise,\nWho cheers with beauty hearts and eyes.\nThere is Agastya\u2019s(709) mansion, decked\nBy heaven\u2019s all moulding architect.\nNear Bhogavat\u00ed(710) stands, the place\nWhere dwell the hosts of serpent race:\nA broad-wayed city, walled and barred,\nWhich watchful legions keep and guard,\nThe fiercest of the serpent youth,\nEach awful for his venomed tooth:\nAnd throned in his imperial hall\nIs V\u00e1suki(711) who rules them all.\nExplore the serpent city well,\nSearch town and tower and citadel,\nAnd scan each field and wood that lies\nAround it, with your watchful eyes.\nBeyond that spot your way pursue:\nA noble mountain shall ye view,\nNamed Rishabh, like a mighty bull,\nWith gems made bright and beautiful.\nAll trees of sandal flourish there\nOf heavenly fragrance, rich and rare.\nBut, though they tempt your longing eyes,\nAvoid to touch them, and be wise.\nFor Rohitas, a guardian band\nOf fierce Gandharvas, round them stand,\nWho five bright sovereign lords(712) obey,\nIn glory like the God of Day.\nHere by good deeds a home is won\nWith shapes like fire, the moon, the sun.\nHere they who merit heaven by worth\nDwell on the confines of the earth.\nThere stay: beyond it, dark and drear,\nLies the departed spirits\u2019 sphere,\nAnd, girt with darkness, far from bliss,\nIs Y\u00e1ma\u2019s sad metropolis.(713)\nSo far, my lords, o\u2019er land and sea\nYour destined course is plain and free.\nBeyond your steps you may not set,\nWhere living thing ne\u2019er journeyed yet.\nWith utmost care these realms survey,\nAnd all you meet upon the way.\nAnd, when the lady\u2019s course is traced,\nBack to your king, O V\u00e1nars, haste.\nAnd he who tells me he has seen.\nAfter long search, the Maithil queen,\nShall gain a noble guerdon: he\nIn power and bliss shall equal me.\nDear as my very life, above\nHis fellows in his master\u2019s love;\nI call him, yea though stained with crime.\nMy kinsman from that happy time.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLII. The Army Of The West.\n\n\nThen to Sushe\u1e47 Sugr\u00edva bent,\nAnd thus addressed him reverent:\n\u201cTwo hundred thousand of our best\nWith thee, my lord, shall seek the west.\nExplore Sur\u00e1sh\u1e6dra\u2019s(714)] distant plain,\nExplore V\u00e1hl\u00edka\u2019s(715) wild domain,\nAnd all the pleasant brooks that flee\nThrough mountains to the western sea.\nSearch clustering groves on mountain heights,\nAnd woods the home of anchorites.\nSearch where the breezy hills are high,\nSearch where the desert regions lie.\nSearch all the western land beset\nWith woody mountains like a net.\nThe country\u2018s farthest limit reach,\nAnd stand upon the ocean beach.\nThere wander through the groves of palm\nWhere the soft air is full of balm.\nThrough grassy dell and dark ravine\nSeek R\u00e1va\u1e47 and the Maithil queen.\nGo visit Somagiri\u2019s(716) steep\nWhere Sindhu(717) mingles with the deep.\nThere lions, borne on swift wings, roam\nThe levels of their mountain home,\nAnd elephants and monsters bear,\nCaught from the ocean, to their lair.\nYou V\u00e1nars, changing forms at will,\nWith rapid search must scour the hill,\nAnd his sky-kissing peak of gold\nWhere loveliest trees their blooms unfold.\nThere golden-peaked, ablaze with light,\nUprises P\u00e1riy\u00e1tra\u2019s(718) height\nWhere wild Gandharvas, fierce and fell,\nIn bands of countless myriads dwell.\nPluck ye no fruit within the wood;\nBeware the impious neighbourhood,\nWhere, very mighty, strong, and hard\nTo overcome, the fruit they guard.\nYet search for Janak\u2019s daughter still,\nFor V\u00e1nars there need fear no ill.\nNear, bright as turkis, Vajra(719) named,\nThere stands a hill of diamond framed.\nSoaring a hundred leagues in pride,\nWith trees and creepers glorified.\nSearch there each cave and dark abyss\nBy waterfall and precipice.\nFar in that sea the wild waves beat\nOn Chakrav\u00e1n\u2019s(720) firm-rooted feet.\nWhere the great discus,(721) thousand rayed,\nBy V\u00edsvakarm\u00e1\u2019s(722) art was made.\nWhen Panchajan(723) the fiend was slain.\nAnd Hayagr\u00edva,(724) fierce in vain,\nThence taking shell and discus went\nLord Vish\u1e47u, God pre\u00ebminent.\nOn! sixty thousand hills of gold\nWith wondering eyes shall ye behold,\nWhere in his glory every one\nIs brilliant as the morning sun.\nFull in the midst King Meru,(725) best\nOf mountains, lifts his lofty crest,\nOn whom of yore, as all have heard,\nThe sun well-pleased this boon conferred:\n\u201cOn thee, O King, on thee and thine\nLight, day and night, shall ever shine.\nGandharvas, Gods who love thee well\nAnd on thy sacred summits dwell,\nUndimmed in lustre, bright and fair,\nThe golden sheen shall ever share.\u201d\nThe Vi\u015bvas,(726) Vasus,(727) they who ride\nThe tempest,(728) every God beside,\nDraw nigh to Meru\u2019s lofty crest\nWhen evening darkens in the west,\nAnd to the parting Lord of Day\nThe homage of their worship pay,\nEre yet a while, unseen of all,\nBehind Mount Asta\u2019s(729) peaks he fall.\nWrought by the heavenly artist\u2019s care\nA glorious palace glitters there,\nAnd round about it sweet birds sing\nWhere the gay trees are blossoming:\nThe home of Varu\u1e47(730) high-souled lord,\nWrist-girded with his deadly cord.(731)\nWith ten tall stems, a palm between\nMeru and Asta\u2019s hill is seen:\nPure silver from the base it springs,\nAnd far and wide its lustre flings.\nSeek R\u00e1va\u1e47 and the dame by brook,\nIn pathless glen, in leafy nook\nOn Meru\u2019s crest a hermit lives\nBright with the light that penance gives:\nS\u00e1var\u1e47i(732) is he named, renowned\nAs Brahm\u00e1\u2019s peer, with glory crowned.\nThere bowing down in reverence speak\nAnd ask him of the dame you seek.\nThus far the splendid Lord of Day\nPursues through heaven his ceaseless way,\nShedding on every spot his light;\nThen sinks behind Mount Asta\u2019s height,\nThus far advance: the sunless sea\nBeyond is all unknown to me.\nSushe\u1e47 of mighty arm, long tried\nIn peril, shall your legions guide.\nReceive his words with high respect,\nAnd ne\u2019er his lightest wish neglect.\nHe is my consort\u2019s sire, and hence\nDeserves the utmost reverence.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIII. The Army Of The North.\n\n\nForth went the legions of the west:\nAnd wise Sugr\u00edva addressed\n\u015aatabal, summoned from the crowd.\nTo whom the sovereign cried aloud:\n\u201cGo forth, O V\u00e1nar chief, go forth,\nExplore the regions of the north.\nThy host a hundred thousand be,\nAnd Y\u00e1ma\u2019s sons(733) attend on thee.\nWith dauntless courage, strength, and skill\nSearch every river, wood, and hill.\nThrough every land in order go\nRight onward to the Hills of Snow.\nSearch mid the peaks that shine afar,\nIn woods of Lodh and Deod\u00e1r.(734)\nSearch if with Janak\u2019s daughter, screened\nBy sheltering rocks, there lie the fiend.\nThe holy grounds of Soma tread\nBy Gods and minstrels visited.\nReach K\u00e1la\u2019s mount, and flats that lie\nAmong the peaks that tower on high.\nThen leave that hill that gleams with ore,\nAnd fair Sudar\u015ban\u2019s heights explore.\nThen on to Devasakh\u00e1(735) hie,\nLoved by the children of the sky.\nA dreary land you then will see\nWithout a hill or brook or tree,\nA hundred leagues, bare, wild, and dread\nIn lifeless desolation, spread.\nPursue your onward way, and haste\nThrough the dire horrors of the waste\nUntil triumphant with delight\nYou reach Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s glittering height.\nThere stands a palace decked with gold,\nFor King Kuvera(736) wrought of old,\nA home the heavenly artist planned\nAnd fashioned with his cunning hand.\nThere lotuses adorn the flood\nWith full-blown flower and opening bud\nWhere swans and mallards float, and gay\nApsarases(737) come down to play.\nThere King Vai\u015brava\u1e47\u2019s(738) self, the lord\nBy all the universe adored,\nWho golden gifts to mortals sends,\nLives with the Guhyakas(739) his friends.\nSearch every cavern in the steep,\nAnd green glens where the moonbeams sleep,\nIf haply in that distant ground\nThe robber and the dame be found.\nThen on to Krauncha\u2019s hill,(740) and through\nHis fearful pass your way pursue:\nThough dark and terrible the vale\nYour wonted courage must not fail.\nThere through abyss and cavern seek,\nOn lofty ridge, and mountain peak,\nOn, on! pursue your journey still\nBy valley, lake, and towering hill.\nReach the North Kurus\u2019 land, where rest\nThe holy spirits of the blest:\nWhere golden buds of lilies gleam\nResplendent on the silver stream,\nAnd leaves of azure turkis throw\nSoft splendour on the waves below.\nBright as the sun at early morn\nFair pools that happy clime adorn,\nWhere shine the loveliest flowers on stems\nOf crystal and all valued gems.\nBlue lotuses through all the land\nThe glories of their blooms expand,\nAnd the resplendent earth is strown\nWith peerless pearl and precious stone.\nThere stately trees can scarce uphold\nThe burthen of their fruits of gold,\nAnd ever flaunt their gay attire\nOf flower and leaf like flames of fire.\nAll there sweet lives untroubled spend\nIn bliss and joy that know not end,\nWhile pearl-decked maidens laugh, or sing\nTo music of the silvery string.(741)\nStill on your forward journey keep,\nAnd rest you by the northern deep,\nWhere springing from the billows high\nMount Somagiri(742) seeks the sky,\nAnd lightens with perpetual glow\nThe sunless realm that lies below.\nThere, present through all life\u2019s extent,\nDwells Brahm\u00e1 Lord pre\u00ebminent,\nAnd round the great God, manifest\nIn Rudra(743) forms high sages rest.\nThen turn, O V\u00e1nars: search no more,\nNor tempt the sunless, boundless shore.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIV. The Ring.\n\n\nBut special counselling he gave\nTo Hanum\u00e1n the wise and brave:\nTo him on whom his soul relied,\nWith friendly words the monarch cried:\n\u201cO best of V\u00e1nars, naught can stay\nBy land or sea thy rapid way,\nWho through the air thy flight canst bend,\nAnd to the Immortals\u2019 home ascend.\nAll realms, I ween, are known to thee\nWith every mountain, lake, and sea.\nIn strength and speed which naught can tire\nThou, worthy rival of thy sire\nThe mighty monarch of the wind,\nWhere\u2019er thou wilt a way canst find.\nExert thy power, O swift and strong,\nBring back the lady lost so long,\nFor time and place, O thou most wise,\nLie open to thy searching eyes.\u201d\n\n  When R\u00e1ma heard that special hest\nTo Hanum\u00e1n above the rest,\nHe from the monarch\u2019s favour drew\nHope of success and trust anew\nThat he on whom his lord relied,\nIn toil and peril trained and tried,\nWould to a happy issue bring\nThe task commanded by the king.\nHe gave the ring that bore his name,\nA token for the captive dame,\nThat the sad lady in her woe\nThe missive of her lord might know.\n\u201cThis ring,\u201d he said, \u201cmy wife will see,\nNor fear an envoy sent by me.\nThy valour and thy skill combined,\nThy resolute and vigorous mind,\nAnd King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s high behest,\nWith joyful hopes inspire my breast.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLV. The Departure.\n\n\nAway, away the V\u00e1nars sped\nLike locusts o\u2019er the land outspread.\nTo northern realms where rising high\nThe King of Mountains cleaves the sky,\nFierce \u015aatabal with vast array\nOf V\u00e1nar warriors led the way.\nFar southward, as his lord decreed,\nWise Hanum\u00e1n, the Wind-God\u2019s seed,\nWith Angad his swift way pursued,\nAnd T\u00e1ra\u2019s warlike multitude,\nStrong Vinata with all his band\nBetook him to the eastern land,\nAnd brave Sushe\u1e47 in eager quest\nSped swiftly to the gloomy west.\nEach V\u00e1nar chieftain sought with speed\nThe quarter by his king decreed,\nWhile from his legions rose on high\nThe shout and boast and battle cry:\n\u201cWe will restore the dame and beat\nThe robber down beneath our feet.\nMy arm alone shall win the day\nFrom R\u00e1va\u1e47 met in single fray,\nShall rob the robber of his life,\nAnd rescue R\u00e1ma\u2019s captive wife\nAll trembling in her fear and woe.\nHere, comrades, rest: no farther go:\nFor I will vanquish hell, and she\nShall by this arm again be free.\nThe rooted mountains will I rend,\nThe mightiest trees will break and bend,\nEarth to her deep foundations cleave,\nAnd make the calm sea throb and heave.\nA hundred leagues from steep to steep\nIn desperate bound my feet shall leap.\nMy steps shall tread unchecked and free,\nThrough woods, o\u2019er land and hill and sea,\nRange as they list from flood to fell,\nAnd wander through the depths of hell.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVI. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Tale.\n\n\n\u201cHow, King,\u201d cried R\u00e1ma, \u201cdidst thou gain\nThy lore of sea and hill and plain?\u201d\n\u201cI told thee how,\u201d Sugr\u00edva said,\n\u201cFrom B\u00e1li\u2019s arm M\u00e1y\u00e1v\u00ed fled(744)\nTo Malaya\u2019s hill, and strove to save\nHis life by hiding in the cave.\nI told how B\u00e1li sought, to kill\nHis foe, the hollow of the hill;\nNor need I, King, again unfold\nThe wondrous tale already told.\nThen, wandering forth, my way I took\nBy many a town and wood and brook.\nI roamed the earth from place to place,\nTill, like a mirror\u2019s polished face,\nThe whole broad disk, that lies between\nIts farthest bounds, mine eyes had seen.\nI wandered first to eastern skies\nWhere fairest trees rejoiced mine eyes,\nAnd many a cave and wooded hill\nWhere lilies robed the lake and rill.\nThere metal dyes that hill(745) adorn\nWhence springs the sun to light the morn.\nThere, too, I viewed the Milky sea,\nWhere nymphs of heaven delight to be.\nThen to the south I made my way\nFrom regions of the rising day,\nAnd roamed o\u2019er Vindhya, where the breeze\nIs odorous of sandal trees.\nStill in my fear I found no rest:\nI sought the regions of the west,\nAnd gazed on Asta,(746) where the sun\nSinks when his daily course is run.\nThen from that noblest hill I fled\nAnd to the northern country sped,\nSaw Himav\u00e1n,(747) and Meru\u2019s steep,\nAnd stood beside the northern deep.\nBut when, by B\u00e1li\u2019s might oppressed,\nE\u2019en in those wilds I could not rest,\nCame Hanum\u00e1n the wise and brave,\nAnd thus his prudent counsel gave:\n\u201c\u2019I told thee how Matanga(748) cursed\nThy tyrant, that his head should burst\nIn pieces, should he dare invade\nThe precincts of that tranquil shade.\nThere may we dwell in peace and be\nFrom thy oppressor\u2019s malice free.\u201d\nWe went to Rishyam\u00faka\u2019s hill,\nAnd spent our days secure from ill\nWhere, with that curse upon his head,\nThe cruel B\u00e1li durst not tread.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVII. The Return.\n\n\nThus forth in quest of S\u00edt\u00e1 went\nThe legions King Sugr\u00edva sent.\nTo many a distant town they hied\nBy many a lake and river\u2019s side.\nAs their great sovereign\u2019s order taught,\nThrough valleys, plains, and groves they sought.\nThey toiled unresting through the day:\nAt night upon the ground they lay\nWhere the tall trees, whose branches swayed\nBeneath their fruit, gave pleasant shade.\nThen, when a weary month was spent,\nBack to Pra\u015brava\u1e47\u2019s hill they went,\nAnd stood with faces of despair\nBefore their king Sugr\u00edva there.\nThus, having wandered through the east,\nGreat Vinata his labours ceased,\nAnd weary of the fruitless pain\nReturned to meet the king again,\nBrave \u015aatabali to the north\nHad led his V\u00e1nar legions forth.\nNow to Sugr\u00edva he sped\nWith all his host dispirited.\nSushe\u1e47 the western realms had sought,\nAnd homeward now his legions brought.\nAll to Sugr\u00edva came, where still\nHe sat with R\u00e1ma on the hill.\nBefore their sovereign humbly bent\nAnd thus addressed him reverent:\n\u201cOn every hill our steps have been,\nBy wood and cave and deep ravine;\nAnd all the wandering brooks we know\nThroughout the land that seaward flow,\nOur feet by thy command have traced\nThe tangled thicket and the waste,\nAnd dens and dingles hard to pass\nfor creeping plants and matted grass.\nWell have we searched with toil and pain,\nAnd monstrous creatures have we slain\nBut Hanum\u00e1n of noblest mind\nThe Maithil lady yet will find;\nFor to his quarter of the sky(749)\nThe robber fiend was seen to fly.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVIII. The Asur\u2019s Death.\n\n\nBut Hanum\u00e1n still onward pressed\nWith T\u00e1ra, Angad, and the rest,\nThrough Vindhya\u2019s pathless glens he sped\nAnd left no spot unvisited.\nHe gazed from every mountain height,\nHe sought each cavern dark as night,\nAnd wandered through the bloomy shade\nBy pool and river and cascade,\nBut, though they sought in every place,\nOf S\u00edt\u00e1 yet they found no trace.\nOn fruit and woodland berries fed\nThrough many a lonely wild they sped,\nAnd reached at last, untouched by fear,\nA desert terrible and drear:\nA fruitless waste, a land of gloom\nWhere trees were bare of leaf and bloom,\nWhere every scanty stream was dried,\nAnd niggard earth her roots denied.\nNo elephants through all the ground,\nNo buffaloes or deer are found.\nThere roams no tiger, pard, or bear,\nNo creature of the wood is there.\nNo bird displays his glittering wings,\nNo tree, no shrub, no creeper springs.\nThere rise no lilies from the flood,\nResplendent with their flower and bud,\nWhere the delighted bees may throng\nAbout the fragrance with their song.\nThere lived a hermit Ka\u1e47du named,\nFor truth and wealth of penance famed.\nWhom fervent zeal and holy rite\nHad dowered with all-surpassing might.\nHis little son, a ten year child\u2014\nSo chanced it\u2014perished in the wild.\nHis death with fury stirred the sage,\nWho cursed the forest in his rage,\nDoomed from that hour to shelter none,\nA waste for bird and beast to shun.\nThey searched by every forest edge,\nThey searched each cave and mountain ledge,\nAnd thickets whence the water fell\nWandering through the tangled dell.\nStriving to do Sugr\u00edva\u2019s will\nThey roamed along each leafy rill.\nBut vain were all endeavours, vain\nThe careful search, the toil and pain.\nThrough one dark grove they scarce could wind,\nSo thick were creepers intertwined.\nThere as they struggled through the wood\nBefore their eyes an Asur(750) stood.\nHigh as a towering hill, his pride\nThe very Gods in heaven defied.\nWhen on the fiend their glances fell\nEach braced him for the combat well.\nThe demon raised his arm on high,\nAnd rushed upon them with a cry.\nHim Angad smote,\u2014for, sure, he thought\nThis was the fiend they long had sought.\nFrom his huge mouth by Angad felled,\nThe blood in rushing torrents welled,\nAs, like a mountain from his base\nUptorn, he dropped upon his face.\nThus fell the mighty fiend: and they\nThrough the thick wood pursued their way;\nThen, weary with the toil, reclined\nWhere leafy boughs to shade them twined.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIX. Angad\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThen Angad spake: \u201cWe V\u00e1nars well\nHave searched each valley, cave, and dell,\nAnd hill, and brook, and dark recess,\nAnd tangled wood, and wilderness.\nBut all in vain: no eye has seen\nThe robber or the Maithil queen.\nA dreary time has passed away,\nAnd stern is he we all obey.\nCome, cast your grief and sloth aside:\nAgain be every effort tried;\nSo haply may our toil attain\nThe sweet success that follows pain.\nLaborious effort, toil, and skill,\nThe firm resolve, the constant will\nSecure at last the ends we seek:\nHence, O my friends, I boldly speak.\nOnce more then, noble hearts, once more\nLet us to-day this wood explore,\nAnd, languor and despair subdued,\nPurchase success with toil renewed.\nSugr\u00edva is a king austere,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s wrath we needs must fear.\nCome, V\u00e1nars, ye think it wise,\nAnd do the thing that I advise.\u201d\n\n  Then Gandham\u00e1dan thus replied\nWith lips that toil and thirst had dried;\n\u201cObey his words, for wise and true\nIs all that he has counselled you.\nCome, let your hosts their toil renew\nAnd search each grove and desert through,\nEach towering hill and forest glade.\nBy lake and brook and white cascade,\nTill every spot, as our great lord\nCommanded, be again explored.\u201d\n\n  Uprose the V\u00e1nars one and all,\nObedient to the chieftain\u2019s call,\nAnd over the southern region sped\nWhere Vindhya\u2019s tangled forests spread.\nThey clomb that hill that towers on high\nLike a huge cloud in autumn\u2019s sky,\nWhere many a cavern yawns, and streaks\nOf radiant silver deck the peaks.\nIn eager search they wandered through\nThe forests where the Lodh trees grew,\nWhere the dark leaves were thick and green,\nBut found not R\u00e1ma\u2019s darling queen.\nThen faint with toil, their hearts depressed,\nDescending from the mountain\u2019s crest,\nTheir weary limbs a while to ease\nThey lay beneath the spreading trees.\n\n\n\n\nCanto L. The Enchanted Cave.\n\n\nAngad and T\u00e1ra by his side,\nAgain rose Hanum\u00e1n and tried\nEach mountain cavern, dark and deep,\nAnd stony pass and wooded steep,\nThe lion\u2019s and the tiger\u2019s home,\nBy rushing torrents white with foam.\nThen with new ardour, south and west,\nO\u2019er Vindhya\u2019s height the search they pressed.\nThe day prescribed was near and they\nStill wandered on their weary way.\nThey reached the southern land beset\nWith woody mountains like a net.\nAt length a mighty cave they spied\nThat opened in a mountain\u2019s side.\nWhere many a verdant creeper grew\nAnd o\u2019er the mouth its tendrils threw.\nThence issued crane, and swan, and drake,\nAnd trooping birds that love the lake.\nThe V\u00e1nars rushed within to cool\nTheir fevered lips in spring or pool.\nVast was the cavern dark and dread,\nWhere not a ray of light was shed;\nYet not the more their eyesight failed,\nTheir courage sank or valour quailed.\nOn through the gloom the V\u00e1nars pressed\nWith hunger, thirst, and toil distressed,\nPoor helpless wanderers, sad, forlorn,\nWith wasted faces wan and worn.\nAt length, when life seemed lost for aye,\nThey saw a splendour as of day,\nA wondrous forest, fair and bright,\nWhere golden trees shot flamy light.\nAnd lotus-covered pools were there\nWith pleasant waters fresh and fair,\nAnd streams their rippling currents rolled\nBy seats of silver and of gold.\nFair houses reared their stately height\nOf burnished gold and lazulite,\nAnd glorious was the lustre thrown\nThrough lattices of precious stone.\nAnd there were flowers and fruit on stems\nOf coral decked with rarest gems,\nAnd emerald leaves on silver trees,\nAnd honeycomb and golden bees.\nThen as the V\u00e1nars nearer drew,\nA holy woman met their view,\nAround her form was duly tied\nA garment of the blackdeer\u2019s hide.(751)\nPure votaress she shone with light\nOf fervent zeal and holy rite.\nThen Hanum\u00e1n before the rest\nWith reverent words the dame addressed:\n\u201cWho art thou? say: and who is lord\nOf this vast cave with treasures stored?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LI. Svayamprabh\u00e1.\n\n\n\u201cAssailed by thirst and hunger, dame,\nWithin a gloomy vault we came.\nWe saw the cavern opening wide,\nAnd straight within its depths we hied.\nBut utterly amazed are we\nAt all the marvels that we see.\nWhose are the golden trees that gleam\nWith splendour like the morning\u2019s beam?\nThese cates of noblest sort? these roots?\nThis wondrous store of rarest fruits?\nWhose are these calm and cool retreats,\nThese silver homes and golden seats,\nAnd lattices of precious stones?\nWho is the happy lord that owns\nThe golden trees, of rarest scent,\nNeath loads of fruit and blossom bent?\nWho, strong in holy zeal, had power\nTo deck the streams with richest dower,\nAnd bade the lilies bright with gold\nThe glory of their blooms unfold,\nWhere fish in living gold below\nThe sheen of changing colours show?\nThine is the holy power, I ween,\nThat beautified the wondrous scene;\nBut if another\u2019s, lady, deign\nTo tell us, and the whole explain.\u201d\n\n  To him the lady of the cave\nIn words like these her answer gave:\n\u201cSkilled Maya framed in days of old\nThis magic wood of growing gold.\nThe chief artificer in place\nWas he of all the D\u00e1nav race.\nHe, for his wise enchantments famed,\nThis glorious dwelling planned and framed\nHe for a thousand years endured\nThe sternest penance, and secured\nFrom Brahm\u00e1 of all boons the best,\nThe knowledge U\u015banas(752) possessed.\nLord, by that boon, of all his will,\nHe fashioned all with perfect skill;\nAnd, with his blissful state content,\nIn this vast grove a season spent.\nBy Indra\u2019s jealous bolt he fell\nFor loving Hem\u00e1\u2019s(753) charms too well.\nAnd Brahm\u00e1 on that nymph bestowed\nThe treasures of this fair abode,\nWherein her tranquil days to spend\nIn happiness that ne\u2019er may end.\nSprung of a lineage old and high,\nMerus\u00e1var\u1e47i\u2019s(754) daughter, I\nGuard ever for that heavenly dame\nThis home, Svayamprabh\u00e1(755) my name,\u2014\nFor I have loved the lady long,\nSo skilled in arts of dance and song.\nBut say what cause your steps has led\nThe mazes of this grove to tread.\nHow, strangers did ye chance to spy\nThe wood concealed from wanderer\u2019s eye?\nTell clearly why ye come: but first\nEat of this fruit and quench your thirst.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LII. The Exit.\n\n\n\u201cR\u00e1ma,\u201d he cried, \u201ca prince whose sway\nAll peoples of the earth obey,\nTo Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s tangled forest came\nWith his brave brother and his dame.\nFrom that dark shade of forest boughs\nThe giant R\u00e1va\u1e47 stole his spouse.\nOur king Sugr\u00edva\u2019s orders send\nThese V\u00e1nars forth to aid his friend,\nThat so the lady be restored\nUninjured to her sorrowing lord.\nWith Angad and the rest, this band\nHas wandered through the southern land,\nWith careful search in every place\nThe lady and the fiend to trace.\nWe roamed the southern region o\u2019er,\nAnd stood upon the ocean\u2019s shore.\nBy hunger pressed our strength gave way;\nBeneath the spreading trees we lay,\nAnd cried, worn out with toil and woe,\n\u201cNo farther, comrades, can we go.\u201d\nThen as our sad eyes looked around\nWe spied an opening in the ground,\nWhere all was gloomy dark behind\nThe creeping plants that o\u2019er it twined.\nForth trooping from the dark-recess\nCame swans and mallards numberless,\nWith drops upon their shining wings\nAs newly bathed where water springs.\n\u201cOn, comrades, to the cave,\u201d I cried\nAnd all within the portal hied.\nEach clasping fast another\u2019s hand\nFar onward pressed the V\u00e1nar band;\nAnd still, as thirst and hunger drove,\nWe traced the mazes of the grove.\nHere thou with hospitable care\nHast fed us with the noblest fare,\nPreserving us, about to die,\nWith this thy plentiful supply.\nBut how, O pious lady, say,\nMay we thy gracious boon repay?\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the ascetic dame replied:\n\u201cWell, V\u00e1nars, am I satisfied.\nA life of holy works I lead,\nAnd from your hands no service need.\u201d\nThen spake again the V\u00e1nar chief:\n\u201cWe came to thee and found relief.\nNow listen to a new distress,\nAnd aid us, holy votaress.\nOur wanderings in this vasty cave\nExhaust the time Sugr\u00edva gave.\nOnce more then, lady, grant release,\nAnd let thy suppliants go in peace\nAgain upon their errand sped,\nFor King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s ire we dread.\nAnd the great task our sovereign set,\nAlas, is unaccomplished yet.\u201d\n\n  Thus Hanum\u00e1n their leader prayed,\nAnd thus the dame her answer made:\n\u201cScarce may the living find their way\nReturning hence to light of day;\nBut I will free you through the might\nOf penance, fast, and holy rite.\nClose for a while your eyes, or ne\u2019er\nMay you return to upper air.\u201d\nShe ceased: the V\u00e1nars all obeyed;\nTheir fingers on their eyes they laid,\nAnd, ere a moment\u2019s time had fled,\nWere through the mazy cavern led.\nAgain the gracious lady spoke,\nAnd joy in every bosom woke:\n\u201cLo, here again is Vindhya\u2019s hill,\nWhose valleys trees and creepers fill;\nAnd, by the margin of the sea,\nPra\u015brava\u1e47 where you fain would be.\u201d\nWith blessings then she bade adieu,\nAnd swift within the cave withdrew.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIII. Angad\u2019s Counsel.\n\n\nThey looked upon the boundless main\nThe awful seat of Varu\u1e47\u2019s reign.\nAnd heard his waters roar and rave\nTerrific with each crested wave.\nThen, in the depths of sorrow drowned,\nThey sat upon the bosky ground,\nAnd sadly, as they pondered, grieved\nFor days gone by and naught achieved.\nPain pierced them through with sharper sting\nWhen, gazing on the trees of spring,\nThey saw each waving bough that showed\nThe treasures of its glorious load,\nAnd helpless, fainting with the weight\nOf woe they sank disconsolate.\nThen, lion-shouldered, stout and strong,\nThe noblest of the V\u00e1nar throng,\nAngad the prince imperial rose,\nAnd, deeply stricken by the woes\nThat his impetuous spirit broke,\nThus gently to the chieftains spoke:\n\u201cMark ye not, V\u00e1nars, that the day\nOur monarch fixed has passed away?\nThe month is lost in toil and pain,\nAnd now, my friends, what hopes remain?\nOn you, in lore of counsel tried,\nOur king Sugr\u00edva most relied.\nYour hearts, with strong affection fraught,\nHis weal in every labour sought,\nAnd the true valour of your band\nWas blazoned wide in every land.\nForth on the toilsome search you sped,\nBy me\u2014for so he willed it\u2014led,\nTo us, of every hope bereft,\nDeath is the only refuge left.\nFor none a happy life may see\nWho fails to do our king\u2019s decree.\nCome, let us all from food abstain,\nAnd perish thus, since hope is vain.\nStern is our king and swift to ire,\nImperious, proud, and fierce like fire,\nAnd ne\u2019er will pardon us the crime\nOf fruitless search and wasted time.\nFar better thus to end our lives,\nAnd leave our wealth, our homes and wives,\nLeave our dear little ones and all,\nThan by his vengeful hand to fall.\nThink not Sugr\u00edva\u2019s wrath will spare\nMe B\u00e1li\u2019s son, imperial heir:\nFor Raghu\u2019s royal son, not he,\nTo this high place anointed me.\nSugr\u00edva, long my bitter foe,\nWith eager hand will strike the blow,\nAnd, mindful of the old offence,\nWill slay me now for negligence,\nNor will my pitying friends have power\nTo save me in the deadly hour.\nNo\u2014here, O chieftains, will I lie\nBy ocean\u2019s marge, and fast and die.\u201d\n\n  They heard the royal prince declare\nThe purpose of his fixt despair;\nAnd all, by common terror moved,\nHis speech in these sad words approved:\n\u201cSugr\u00edva\u2019s heart is hard and stern,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s thoughts for S\u00edt\u00e1 yearn.\nOur forfeit lives will surely pay\nFor idle search and long delay,\nAnd our fierce king will bid us die\nThe favour of his friend to buy.\u201d\n\n  Then T\u00e1ra softly spake to cheer\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 hearts oppressed by fear:\n\u201cDespair no more, your doubts dispel:\nCome in this ample cavern dwell.\nThere may we live in blissful ease\nMid springs and fruit and bloomy trees,\nSecure from every foe\u2019s assault,\nFor magic framed the wondrous vault.\nProtected there we need not fear\nThough R\u00e1ma and our king come near;\nNor dread e\u2019en him who batters down\nThe portals of the foeman\u2019s town.\u201d(756)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIV. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nBut Hanum\u00e1n, while T\u00e1ra, best\nOf splendid chiefs his thought expressed,\nPerceived that B\u00e1li\u2019s princely son\nA kingdom for himself had won.(757)\nHis keen eye marked in him combined\nThe warrior\u2019s arm, the ruler\u2019s mind,\nAnd every noble gift should grace\nThe happy sovereign of his race:\nMarked how he grew with ripening age\nMore glorious and bold and sage,\u2014\nLike the young moon that night by night\nShines on with ever waxing light,\u2014\nBrave as his royal father, wise\nAs he who counsels in the skies:(758)\nMarked how, forwearied with the quest,\nHe heeded not his liege\u2019s hest,\nBut T\u00e1ra\u2019s every word obeyed\nLike Indra still by \u015aukra(759) swayed.\nThen with his prudent speech he tried\nTo better thoughts the prince to guide,\nAnd by division\u2019s skilful art\nThe V\u00e1nars and the youth to part:\n\u201cIllustrious Angad, thou in fight\nHast far surpassed thy father\u2019s might,\nMost worthy, like thy sire of old,\nThe empire of our race to hold.\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 fickle people range\nFrom wish to wish and welcome change.\nTheir wives and babes they will not leave\nAnd to their new-made sovereign cleave.\nNo art, no gifts will draw away\nThe V\u00e1nars from Sugr\u00edva\u2019s sway,\nThrough hope of wealth, through fear of pain\nStill faithful will they all remain.\nThou fondly hopest in this cave\nThe vengeance of the foe to brave.\nBut Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s arm a shower will send\nOf deadly shafts those walls to rend.\nLike Indra\u2019s bolts his shafts have power\nTo cleave the mountain like a flower.\nO Angad, mark my counsel well:\nIf in this cave thou choose to dwell,\nThese V\u00e1nar hosts with one accord\nWill quit thee for their lawful lord,\nAnd turn again with thirsty eyes\nTo wife and babe and all they prize.\nThou in the lonely cavern left\nOf followers and friends bereft,\nWilt be in all thy woe, alas,\nWeak as a blade of trembling grass:\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s arrows, keen and fierce\nFrom his strong bow, thy heart will pierce.\nBut if in lowly reverence meek\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s court with us thou seek,\nHe, as thy birth demands, will share\nThe kingdom with the royal heir.\nThy loving kinsman, true and wise,\nLooks on thee still with favouring eyes.\nFirm in his promise, pure is he,\nAnd ne\u2019er will vex or injure thee.\nHe loves thy mother, lives for her\nA faithful friend and worshipper.\nThat mother\u2019s love thou mayst not spurn:\nHer only child, return, return.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LV. Angad\u2019s Reply.\n\n\n\u201cWhat truth or justice canst thou find,\u201d\nCried Angad, \u201cin Sugr\u00edva\u2019s mind?\nWhere is his high and generous soul,\nHis purity and self-control?\nHow is he worthy of our trust,\nRighteous, and true, and wise, and just,\nWho, shrinking not from sin and shame,\nDurst take his living brother\u2019s dame?\nWho, when, in stress of mortal strife\nHis noble brother fought for life,\nAgainst the valiant warrior barred\nThe portal which he stood to guard?\nCan he be grateful\u2014he who took\nThe hand of R\u00e1ma, and forsook\nThat friend who saved him in his woes,\nTo whom his life and fame he owes?\nAh no! his heart is cold and mean,\nWhat bids him search for R\u00e1ma\u2019s queen?\nNot honour\u2019s law, not friendship\u2019s debt,\nBut angry Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s timely threat.\nNo prudent heart will ever place\nIts trust in one so false and base,\nWho heeds not friendship, kith or kin,\nWho scorns the law and cleaves to sin.\nBut true or false, whate\u2019er he be,\nOne consequence I clearly see;\nMe, in my youth anointed heir\nAgainst his wish, he will not spare,\nBut strike with eager hand the blow\nThat rids him of a household foe.\nShall I of power and friends despoiled,\nIn all my purpose crossed and foiled,\u2014\nShall I Kishkindh\u00e1 seek, and wait,\nLike some poor helpless thing, my fate?\nThe cruel wretch through lust of sway\nWill seize upon his hapless prey,\nAnd to a prison\u2019s secret gloom\nThe remnant of my years will doom.\n\u2019Tis better far to fast and die\nThan hopeless bound in chains to lie,\nYour steps, O V\u00e1nars, homeward bend\nAnd leave me here my life to end.\nBetter to die of hunger here\nThan meet at home the fate I fear.\nGo, bow you at Sugr\u00edva\u2019s feet,\nAnd in my name the monarch greet.\nBefore the sons of Raghu bend,\nAnd give the greeting that I send.\nGreet kindly Rum\u00e1 too, for she\nA son\u2019s affection claims from me,\nAnd gently calm with friendly care\nMy mother T\u00e1r\u00e1\u2019s wild despair;\nOr when she hears her darling\u2019s fate\nThe queen will die disconsolate.\u201d\n\n  Thus Angad bade the chiefs adieu:\nThen on the ground his limbs he threw\nWhere sacred Darbha(760) grass was spread,\nAnd wept as every hope had fled.\nThe moving words of Angad drew\nDown aged cheeks the piteous dew.\nAnd, as the chieftains\u2019 eyes grew dim,\nThey swore to stay and die with him.\nOn holy grass whose every blade\nWas duly, pointing southward, laid,\nThe V\u00e1nars sat them down and bent\nTheir faces to the orient,\nWhile \u201cHere, O comrades, let us die\nWith Angad,\u201d was the general cry.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVI. Samp\u00e1ti.\n\n\nThen came the vultures\u2019 mighty king\nWhere sat the V\u00e1nars sorrowing,\u2014\nSamp\u00e1ti,(761) best of birds that fly\nOn sounding pinions through the sky,\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yus\u2019 brother, famed of old,\nMost glorious and strong and bold.\nUpon the slope of Vindhya\u2019s hill\nHe saw the V\u00e1nars calm and still.\nThese words he uttered while the sight\nFilled his fierce spirit with delight:\n\u201cBehold how Fate with changeless laws\nWithin his toils the sinner draws,\nAnd brings me, after long delay,\nA rich and noble feast to-day,\nThese V\u00e1nars who are doomed to die\nMy hungry maw to satisfy.\u201d\n\n  He spoke no more: and Angad heard\nThe menace of the mighty bird;\nAnd thus, while anguish filled his breast,\nThe noble Hanum\u00e1n addressed:\n\u201cVivasvat\u2019s(762) son has sought this place\nFor vengeance on the V\u00e1nar race.\nSee, Y\u00e1ma, wroth for S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s sake,\nIs come our guilty lives to take.\nOur king\u2019s decree is left undone,\nAnd naught achieved for Raghu\u2019s son.\nIn duty have we failed, and hence\nComes punishment for dire offence.\nHave we not heard the marvels wrought\nBy King Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus,(763) how he fought\nWith R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s might, and, nobly brave,\nPerished, the Maithil queen to save?\nThere is no living creature, none,\nBut loves to die for Raghu\u2019s son,\nAnd in long toils and dangers we\nHave placed our lives in jeopardy.\nBlest is Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus, he who gave\nHis life the Maithil queen to save,\nAnd proved his love for R\u00e1ma well\nWhen by the giant\u2019s hand he fell.\nNow raised to bliss and high renown\nHe fears not fierce Sugr\u00edva\u2019s frown.\nAlas, alas! what miseries spring\nFrom that rash promise of the king!(764)\nHis own sad death, and R\u00e1ma sent\nWith Lakshma\u1e47 forth to banishment:\nThe Maithil lady borne away:\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yus slain in mortal fray:\nThe fall of B\u00e1li when the dart\nOf R\u00e1ma quivered in his heart:\nAnd, after toil and pain and care,\nOur misery and deep despair.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the feathered monarch heard,\nHis heart with ruth and wonder stirred:\n\u201cWhose is that voice,\u201d the vulture cried,\n\u201cThat tells me how Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus died,\nAnd shakes my inmost soul with woe\nFor a loved brother\u2019s overthrow?\nAfter long days at length I hear\nThe glorious name of one so dear.\nOnce more, O V\u00e1nar chieftains, tell\nHow King Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus fought and fell.\nBut first your aid, I pray you, lend,\nAnd from this peak will I descend.\nThe sun has burnt my wings, and I\nNo longer have the power to fly.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVII. Angad\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThough grief and woe his utterance broke\nThey trusted not the words he spoke;\nBut, looking still for secret guile,\nReflected in their hearts a while:\n\u201cIf on our mangled limbs he feed,\nWe gain the death ourselves decreed.\u201d\n\n  Then rose the V\u00e1nar chiefs, and lent\nTheir arms to aid the bird\u2019s descent;\nAnd Angad spake: \u201cThere lived of yore\nA noble V\u00e1nar king who bore\nThe name of Riksharajas, great\nAnd brave and strong and fortunate.\nHis sons were like their father: fame\nKnows B\u00e1li and Sugr\u00edva\u2019s name.\nPraised in all lands, a glorious king\nWas B\u00e1li, and from him I spring.\nBrave R\u00e1ma, Da\u015baratha\u2019s heir,\nA glorious prince beyond compare,\nHis sire and duty\u2019s law obeyed,\nAnd sought the depths of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019 shade\nS\u00edt\u00e1 his well-beloved dame,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, with the wanderer came.\nA giant watched his hour, and stole\nThe sweet delight of R\u00e1ma\u2019s soul.\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yus, Da\u015baratha\u2019s friend,\nSwift succour to the dame would lend.\nFierce R\u00e1va\u1e47 from his car he felled,\nAnd for a time the prize withheld.\nBut bleeding, weak with years, and tired,\nBeneath the demon\u2019s blows expired,\nDue rites at R\u00e1ma\u2019s hands obtained,\nAnd bliss that ne\u2019er shall minish, gained.\nThen R\u00e1ma with Sugr\u00edva made\nA covenant for mutual aid,\nAnd B\u00e1li, to the field defied,\nBy conquering R\u00e1ma\u2019s arrow died.\nSugr\u00edva then, by R\u00e1ma\u2019s grace,\nWas monarch of the V\u00e1nar race.\nBy his command a mighty host\nSeeks R\u00e1ma\u2019s queen from coast to coast.\nSent forth by him, in every spot\nWe looked for her, but find her not.\nVain is the toil, as though by night\nWe sought to find the Day-God\u2019s light.\nIn lands unknown at length we found\nA spacious cavern under ground,\nWhose vaults that stretch beneath the hill\nWere formed by Maya\u2019s magic skill.\nThrough the dark maze our steps were bent,\nAnd wandering there a month we spent,\nAnd lost, in fruitless error, thus\nThe days our king allotted us.\nThus we though faithful have transgressed,\nAnd failed to keep our lord\u2019s behest.\nNo chance of safety can we see,\nNo lingering hope of life have we.\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s wrath and R\u00e1ma\u2019s hate\nPress on our souls with grievous weight:\nAnd we, because \u2019tis vain to fly,\nResolve at length to fast and die.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVIII. Tidings Of S\u00edt\u00e1.\n\n\nThe piteous tears his eye bedewed\nAs thus his speech the bird renewed;\n\u201cAlas my brother, slain in fight\nBy R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s unresisted might!\nI, old and wingless, weak and worn,\nO\u2019er his sad fate can only mourn.\nFled is my youth: in life\u2019s decline\nMy former strength no more is mine.\nOnce on the day when Vritra(765) died,\nWe brothers, in ambitious pride,\nSought, mounting with adventurous flight,\nThe Day-God garlanded with light.\nOn, ever on we urged our way\nWhere fields of ether round us lay,\nTill, by the fervent heat assailed,\nMy brother\u2019s pinions flagged and failed.\nI marked his sinking strength, and spread\nMy stronger wings to screen his head,\nTill, all my feathers burnt away,\nOn Vindhya\u2019s hill I fell and lay.\nThere in my lone and helpless state\nI heard not of my brother\u2019s fate.\u201d\n\n  Thus King Samp\u00e1ti spoke and sighed:\nAnd royal Angad thus replied:\n\u201cIf, brother of Jat\u00e1yus, thou\nHast heard the tale I told but now,\nObedient to mine earnest prayer\nThe dwelling of that fiend declare.\nO, say where cursed R\u00e1va\u1e47 dwells,\nWhom folly to his death impels.\u201d\n\n  He ceased. Again Samp\u00e1ti spoke,\nAnd hope in every breast awoke:\n\u201cThough lost my wings, and strength decayed,\nYet shall my words lend R\u00e1ma aid.\nI know the worlds where Vish\u1e47u trod,(766)\nI know the realm of Ocean\u2019s God;\nHow Asurs fought with heavenly foes,\nAnd Amrit from the churning rose.(767)\nA mighty task before me lies,\nTo prosper R\u00e1ma\u2019s enterprise,\nA task too hard for one whom length\nOf days has rifled of his strength.\nI saw the cruel R\u00e1va\u1e47 bear\nA gentle lady through the air.\nBright was her form, and fresh and young,\nAnd sparkling gems about her hung.\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, R\u00e1ma!\u201d cried the dame,\nAnd shrieked in terror Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s name,\nAs, struggling in the giant\u2019s hold,\nShe dropped her gauds of gems and gold.\nLike sun-light on a mountain shone\nThe silken garments she had on,\nAnd glistened o\u2019er his swarthy form\nAs lightning flashes through the storm.\nThat giant R\u00e1va\u1e47, famed of old,\nIs brother of the Lord of Gold.(768)\nThe southern ocean roars and swells\nRound Lank\u00e1, where the robber dwells\nIn his fair city nobly planned\nAnd built by Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s(769) hand.\nWithin his bower securely barred,\nWith monsters round her for a guard,\nStill in her silken vesture clad\nLies S\u00edt\u00e1, and her heart is sad.\nA hundred leagues your course must be\nBeyond this margin of the sea.\nStill to the south your way pursue,\nAnd there the giant R\u00e1va\u1e47 view.\nThen up, O V\u00e1nars, and away!\nFor by my heavenly lore I say,\nThere will you see the lady\u2019s face,\nAnd hither soon your steps retrace.\nIn the first field of air are borne\nThe doves and birds that feed on corn.\nThe second field supports the crows\nAnd birds whose food on branches grows.\nAlong the third in balanced flight\nSail the keen osprey and the kite.\nSwift through the fourth the falcon springs\nThe fifth the slower vulture wings.\nUp to the sixth the gay swans rise,\nWhere royal Vainateya(770) flies.\nWe too, O chiefs, of vulture race,\nOur line from Vinat\u00e1 may trace,\nCondemned, because we wrought a deed\nOf shame, on flesh and blood to feed.\nBut all Supar\u1e47a\u2019s(771) wondrous powers\nAnd length of keenest sight are ours,\nThat we a hundred leagues away\nThrough fields of air descry our prey.\nNow from this spot my gazing eye\nCan R\u00e1va\u1e47 and the dame descry.\nDevise some plan to overleap\nThis barrier of the briny deep.\nFind the Videhan lady there,\nAnd joyous to your home repair.\nMe too, O V\u00e1nars, to the side\nOf Varu\u1e47\u2019s(772) home the ocean, guide,\nWhere due libations shall be paid\nTo my great-hearted brother\u2019s shade.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIX. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n\n\nThey heard his counsel to the close,\nThen swiftly to their feet they rose;\nAnd J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n with joyous breast\nThe vulture king again addressed:\n\n  \u201cWhere, where is S\u00edt\u00e1? who has seen,\nWho borne away the Maithil queen?\nWho would the lightning flight withstand\nby Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s hand?\u201d\n\n  Again Samp\u00e1ti spoke to cheer\nThe V\u00e1nars as they bent to hear:\n\u201cNow listen, and my words shall show\nWhat of the Maithil dame I know,\nAnd in what distant prison lies\nThe lady of the long dark eyes.\nScorched by the fiery God of Day,\nHigh on this mighty hill I lay.\nA long and weary time had passed,\nAnd strength and life were failing fast.\nYet, ere the breath had left my frame,\nMy son, my dear Sup\u00e1r\u015bva, came.\nEach morn and eve he brought me food,\nAnd filial care my life renewed.\nBut serpents still are swift to ire,\nGandharvas slaves to soft desire,\nAnd we, imperial vultures, need\nA full supply our maws to feed.\nOnce he turned at close of day,\nStood by my side, but brought no prey.\nHe looked upon my ravenous eye,\nHeard my complaint and made reply:\n\u201cBorne on swift wings ere day was light\nI stood upon Mahendra\u2019s(773) height,\nAnd, far below, the sea I viewed\nAnd birds in countless multitude.\nBefore mine eyes a giant flew\nWhose monstrous form was dark of hue\nAnd struggling in his grasp was borne\nA lady radiant as the morn.\nSwift to the south his course he bent,\nAnd cleft the yielding element.\nThe holy spirits of the air\nCame round me as I marvelled there,\nAnd cried as their bright legions met:\n\u201cO say, is S\u00edt\u00e1 living yet?\u201d\nThus cried the saints and told the name\nOf him who held the struggling dame.\nThen while mine eye with eager look\nPursued the path the robber took,\nI marked the lady\u2019s streaming hair,\nAnd heard her cry of wild despair.\nI saw her silken vesture rent\nAnd stripped of every ornament,\nThus, O my father, fled the time:\nForgive, I pray, the heedless crime.\u201d\nIn vain the mournful tale I heard\nMy pitying heart to fury stirred,\nWhat could a helpless bird of air,\nReft of his boasted pinions, dare?\nYet can I aid with all that will\nAnd words can do, and friendly skill.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LX. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n\n\nThen from the flood Samp\u00e1ti paid\nDue offerings to his brother\u2019s shade.\nHe bathed him when the rites were done,\nAnd spake again to B\u00e1li\u2019s son:\n\u201cNow listen, Prince, while I relate\nHow first I learned the lady\u2019s fate.\nBurnt by the sun\u2019s resistless might\nI fell and lay on Vindhya\u2019s height.\nSeven nights in deadly swoon I passed,\nBut struggling life returned at last.\nAround I bent my wondering view,\nBut every spot was strange and new.\nI scanned the sea with eager ken,\nAnd rock and brook and lake and glen,\nI saw gay trees their branches wave,\nAnd creepers mantling o\u2019er the cave.\nI heard the wild birds\u2019 joyous song,\nAnd waters as they foamed along,\nAnd knew the lovely hill must be\nMount Vindhya by the southern sea.\nRevered by heavenly beings, stood\nNear where I lay, a sacred wood,\nWhere great Ni\u015bakar dwelt of yore\nAnd pains of awful penance bore.\nEight thousand seasons winged their flight\nOver the toiling anchorite\u2014\nUpon that hill my days were spent,\u2014\nAnd then to heaven the hermit went.\nAt last, with long and hard assay,\nDown from that height I made my way,\nAnd wandered through the mountain pass\nRough with the spikes of Darbha grass.\nI with my misery worn, and faint\nWas eager to behold the saint:\nFor often with Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus I\nHad sought his home in days gone by.\nAs nearer to the grove I drew\nThe breeze with cooling fragrance blew,\nAnd not a tree that was not fair,\nWith richest flower and fruit was there.\nWith anxious heart a while I stayed\nBeneath the trees\u2019 delightful shade,\nAnd soon the holy hermit, bright\nWith fervent penance, came in sight.\nBehind him bears and lions, tame\nAs those who know their feeder, came,\nAnd tigers, deer, and snakes pursued\nHis steps, a wondrous multitude,\nAnd turned obeisant when the sage\nHad reached his shady hermitage.\nThen came Ni\u015bakar to my side\nAnd looked with wondering eyes, and cried:\n\u201cI knew thee not, so dire a change\nHas made thy form and feature strange.\nWhere are thy glossy feathers? where\nThe rapid wings that cleft the air?\nTwo vulture brothers once I knew:\nEach form at will could they endue.\nThey of the vulture race were kings,\nAnd flew with M\u00e1tari\u015bva\u2019s(774) wings.\nIn human shape they loved to greet\nTheir hermit friend, and clasp his feet.\nThe younger was Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus, thou\nThe elder whom I gaze on now.\nSay, has disease or foeman\u2019s hate\nReduced thee from thy high estate?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXI. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n\n\n\u201cAh me! o\u2019erwhelmed with shame and weak\nWith wounds,\u201d I cried, \u201cI scarce can speak.\nMy hapless brother once and I\nOur strength of flight resolved to try.\nAnd by our foolish pride impelled\nOur way through realms of ether held.\nWe vowed before the saints who tread\nThe wilds about Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s head,\nThat we with following wings would chase\nThe swift sun to his resting place.\nUp on our soaring pinions through\nThe fields of cloudless air we flew.\nBeneath us far, and far away,\nLike chariot wheels bright cities lay,\nWhence in wild snatches rose the song\nOf women mid the gay-clad throng,\nWith sounds of sweetest music blent\nAnd many a tinkling ornament.\nThen as our rapid wings we strained\nThe pathway of the sun we gained.\nBeneath us all the earth was seen\nClad in her garb of tender green,\nAnd every river in her bed\nMeandered like a silver thread.\nWe looked on Meru far below\nAnd Vindhya and the Lord of Snow,\nLike elephants that bend to cool\nTheir fever in a lilied pool.\nBut fervent heat and toil o\u2019ercame\nThe vigour of each yielding frame,\nOur weary hearts began to quail,\nAnd wildered sense to reel and fail.\nWe knew not, fainting and distressed,\nThe north or south or east or west.\nWith a great strain mine eyes I turned\nWhere the fierce sun before me burned,\nAnd seemed to my astonished eyes\nThe equal of the earth in size.(775)\nAt length, o\u2019erpowered, Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus fell\nWithout a word to say farewell,\nAnd when to earth I saw him hie\nI followed headlong from the sky.(776)\nWith sheltering wings I intervened\nAnd from the sun his body screened,\nBut lost, for heedless folly doomed,\nMy pinions which the heat consumed.\nIn Janasth\u00e1n, I hear them say,\nMy hapless brother fell and lay.\nI, pinionless and faint and weak,\nDropped upon Vindhya\u2019s woody peak.\nNow with my swift wings burnt away,\nReft of my brother and my sway,\nFrom this tall mountain\u2019s summit I\nWill cast me headlong down and die.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXII. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n\n\n\u201cAs to the saint I thus complained\nMy bitter tears fell unrestrained.\nHe pondered for a while, then broke\nThe silence, and thus calmly spoke:\n\u201cForth from thy sides again shall spring,\nO royal bird, each withered wing,\nAnd all thine ancient power and might\nReturn to thee with strength of sight.\nA noble deed has been foretold\nIn prophecy pronounced of old:\nNor dark to me are future things,\nSeen by the light which penance brings.\nA glorious king shall rise and reign,\nThe pride of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s strain.\nA good and valiant prince, his heir,\nShall the dear name of R\u00e1ma bear.\nWith his brave brother Lakshma\u1e47 he\nAn exile in the woods shall be,\nWhere R\u00e1va\u1e47, whom no God may slay,(777)\nShall steal his darling wife away.\nIn vain the captive will be wooed\nWith proffered love and dainty food,\nShe will not hear, she will not taste:\nBut, lest her beauty wane and waste,\nLord Indra\u2019s self will come to her\nWith heavenly food, and minister.\nThen envoys of the V\u00e1nar race\nBy R\u00e1ma sent will seek this place.\nTo them, O roamer of the air,\nThe lady\u2019s fate shalt thou declare.\nThou must not move\u2014so maimed thou art\nThou canst not from this spot depart.\nAwait the day and moment due,\nAnd thy burnt wings will sprout anew.\nI might this day the boon bestow\nAnd bid again thy pinions grow,\nBut wait until thy saving deed\nThe nations from their fear have freed.\nThen for this glorious aid of thine\nThe princes of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line,\nAnd Gods above and saints below\nEternal gratitude shall owe.\nFain would mine aged eyes behold\nThat pair of whom my lips have told,\nYet wearied here I must not stay,\nBut leave my frame and pass away.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIII. Samp\u00e1ti\u2019s Story.\n\n\n\u201cWith this and many a speech beside\nMy failing heart he fortified,\nWith glorious hope my breast inspired,\nAnd to his holy home retired.\nI scaled the mountain height, to view\nThe region round, and looked for you.\nIn ceaseless watchings night and day\nA hundred seasons passed away,\nAnd by the sage\u2019s words consoled\nI wait the hour and chance foretold.\nBut since Ni\u015bakar sought the skies.\nAnd cast away all earthly ties,\nFull many a care and doubt has pressed\nWith grievous weight upon my breast.\nBut for the saint who turned aside\nMy purpose I had surely died.\nThose hopeful words the hermit spake,\nThat bid me live for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake,\nDispel my anguish as the light\nOf lamp and torch disperse the night.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and in the V\u00e1nars\u2019 view\nForth from his side young pinions grew,\nAnd boundless rapture filled his breast\nAs thus the chieftains he addressed:\n\u201cJoy, joy! the pinions, which the Lord\nOf Day consumed, are now restored\nThrough the dear grace & boundless might\nOf that illustrious anchorite.\nThe fire of youth within me burns,\nAnd all my wonted strength returns.\nOnward, ye V\u00e1nars, toil strive,\nAnd you shall find the dame alive.\nLook on these new-found wings, and hence\nBe strong in surest confidence.\u201d\n\n  Swift from the crag he sprang to try\nHis pinions in his native sky.\nHis words the chieftains\u2019 doubts had stilled,\nAnd every heart with courage filled.(778)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIV. The Sea.\n\n\nShouts of triumphant joy outrang\nAs to their feet the V\u00e1nars sprang:\nAnd, on the mighty task intent,\nSwift to the sea their steps they bent.\nThey stood and gazed upon the deep,\nWhose billows with a roar and leap\nOn the sea banks ware wildly hurled,\u2014\nThe mirror of the mighty world.\nThere on the strand the V\u00e1nars stayed\nAnd with sad eyes the deep surveyed,\nHere, as in play, his billows rose,\nAnd there he slumbered in repose.\nHere leapt the boisterous waters, high\nAs mountains, menacing the sky,\nAnd wild infernal forms between\nThe ridges of the waves were seen.\nThey saw the billows rave and swell,\nAnd their sad spirits sank and fell;\nFor ocean in their deep despair\nSeemed boundless as the fields of air.\nThen noble Angad spake to cheer\nThe V\u00e1nars and dispel their fear:\n\u201cFaint not: despair should never find\nAdmittance to a noble mind.\nDespair, a serpent\u2019s mortal bite,\nBenumbs the hero\u2019s power and might.\u201d\n\n  Then passed the weary night, and all\nAssembled at their prince\u2019s call,\nAnd every lord of high estate\nWas gathered round him for debate.\nBright was the chieftains\u2019 glorious band\nRound Angad on the ocean strand,\nAs when the mighty Storm-Gods meet\nRound Indra on his golden seat.\nThen princely Angad looked on each,\nAnd thus began his prudent speech:\n\u201cWhat chief of all our host will leap\nA hundred leagues across the deep?\nWho, O illustrious V\u00e1nars, who\nWill make Sugr\u00edva\u2019s promise true,\nAnd from our weight of fear set free\nThe leaders of our band and me?\nTo whom, O warriors, shall we owe\nA sweet release from pain and woe,\nAnd proud success, and happy lives\nWith our dear children and our wives,\nAgain permitted by his grace\nTo look with joy on R\u00e1ma\u2019s face,\nAnd noble Lakshma\u1e47, and our lord\nThe king, to our sweet homes restored?\u201d\n\n  Thus to the gathered lords he spoke;\nBut no reply the silence broke.\nThen with a sterner voice he cried:\n\u201cO chiefs, the nation\u2019s boast and pride,\nWhom valour strength and power adorn,\nOf most illustrious lineage born,\nWhere\u2019er you will you force a way,\nAnd none your rapid course can stay.\nNow come, your several powers declare.\nAnd who this desperate leap will dare?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXV. The Council.\n\n\nBut none of all the host was found\nTo clear the sea with desperate bound,\nThough each, as Angad bade, declared\nHis proper power and what he dared.(779)\nThen spake good J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n the sage,\nChief of them all for reverend age;\n\u201cI, V\u00e1nar chieftains, long ago\nLimbs light to leap could likewise show,\nBut now on frame and spirit weighs\nThe burthen of my length of days.\nStill task like this I may not slight,\nWhen R\u00e1ma and our king unite.\nSo listen while I tell, O friends,\nWhat lingering strength mine age attends.\nIf my poor leap may aught avail,\nOf ninety leagues, I will not fail.\nFar other strength in youth\u2019s fresh prime\nI boasted, in the olden time,\nWhen, at Prahl\u00e1da\u2019s(780) solemn rite,\nI circled in my rapid flight\nLord Vish\u1e47u, everlasting God,\nWhen through the universe he trod.\nBut now my limbs are weak and old,\nMy youth is fled, its fire is cold,\nAnd these exhausted nerves to strain\nIn such a task were idle pain.\u201d\n\n  Then Angad due obeisance paid,\nAnd to the chief his answer made:\n\u201cThen I, ye noble V\u00e1nars, I\nMyself the mighty leap will try:\nAlthough perchance the power I lack\nTo leap from Lank\u00e1\u2019s island back.\u201d\n\n  Thus the impetuous chieftain cried,\nAnd J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n the sage replied:\n\u201cWhate\u2019er thy power and might may be,\nThis task, O Prince, is not for thee.\nKings go not forth themselves, but send\nThe servants who their best attend.\nThou art the darling and the boast,\nThe honoured lord of all the host.\nIn thee the root, O Angad, lies\nOf our appointed enterprise;\nAnd thee, on whom our hopes depend,\nOur care must cherish and defend.\u201d\n\n  Then B\u00e1li\u2019s noble son replied:\n\u201cNeeds must I go, whate\u2019er betide,\nFor, if no chief this exploit dare,\nWhat waits us all save blank despair,\u2014\nUpon the ground again to lie\nIn hopeless misery, fast, and die?\nFor not a hope of life I see\nIf we neglect our king\u2019s decree.\u201d\nThen spoke the aged chief again:\n\u201cNay our attempt shall not be vain,\nFor to the task will I incite\nA chieftain of sufficient might.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVI. Hanum\u00e1n.\n\n\nThe chieftain turned his glances where\nThe legions sat in mute despair;\nAnd then to Hanum\u00e1n, the best\nOf V\u00e1nar lords, these words addressed:\n\u201cWhy still, and silent, and apart,\nO hero of the dauntless heart?\nThou keepest treasured in thy mind\nThe laws that rule the V\u00e1nar kind,\nStrong as our king Sugr\u00edva, brave\nAs R\u00e1ma\u2019s self to slay or save.\nThrough every land thy praise is heard,\nFamous as that illustrious bird,\nAr\u00edsh\u1e6danemi\u2019s son,(781) the king\nOf every fowl that plies the wing.\nOft have I seen the monarch sweep\nWith sounding pinions o\u2019er the deep,\nAnd in his mighty talons bear\nHuge serpents struggling through the air.\nThy arms, O hero, match in might\nThe ample wings he spreads for flight;\nAnd thou with him mayest well compare\nIn power to do, in heart to dare.\nWhy, rich in wisdom, power, and skill,\nO hero, art thou lingering still?\nAn Apsaras(782) the fairest found\nOf nymphs for heavenly charms renowned,\nSweet Punjikasthal\u00e1, became\nA noble V\u00e1nar\u2019s wedded dame.\nHer heavenly title heard no more,\nAnjan\u00e1 was the name she bore,\nWhen, cursed by Gods, from heaven she fell\nIn V\u00e1nar form on earth to dwell,\nNew-born in mortal shape the child\nOf Kunjar monarch of the wild.\nIn youthful beauty wondrous fair,\nA crown of flowers about her hair,\nIn silken robes of richest dye\nShe roamed the hills that kiss the sky.\nOnce in her tinted garments dressed\nShe stood upon the mountain crest,\nThe God of Wind beside her came,\nAnd breathed upon the lovely dame.\nAnd as he fanned her robe aside\nThe wondrous beauty that he eyed\nIn rounded lines of breast and limb\nAnd neck and shoulder ravished him;\nAnd captured by her peerless charms\nHe strained her in his amorous arms.\nThen to the eager God she cried\nIn trembling accents, terrified:\n\u201cWhose impious love has wronged a spouse\nSo constant in her nuptial vows?\u201d\nHe heard, and thus his answer made:\n\u201cO, be not troubled, nor afraid,\nBut trust, and thou shalt know ere long\nMy love has done thee, sweet, no wrong,\nSo strong and brave and wise shall be\nThe glorious child I give to thee.\nMight shall be his that naught can tire,\nAnd limbs to spring as springs his sire.\u201d\nThus spoke the God; the conquered dame\nRejoiced in heart nor feared the shame.\nDown in a cave beneath the earth\nThe happy mother gave thee birth.\nOnce o\u2019er the summit of the wood\nBefore thine eyes the new sun stood.\nThou sprangest up in haste to seize\nWhat seemed the fruitage of the trees.\nUp leapt the child, a wondrous bound,\nThree hundred leagues above the ground,\nAnd, though the angered Day-God shot\nHis fierce beams on him, feared him not.\nThen from the hand of Indra came\nA red bolt winged with wrath and flame.\nThe child fell smitten on a rock,\nHis cheek was shattered by the shock,\nNamed Hanum\u00e1n(783) thenceforth by all\nIn memory of the fearful fall.\nThe wandering Wind-God saw thee lie\nWith bleeding cheek and drooping eye,\nAnd stirred to anger by thy woe\nForbade each scented breeze to blow.\nThe breath of all the worlds was stilled,\nAnd the sad Gods with terror filled\nPrayed to the Wind, to calm the ire\nAnd soothe the sorrow of the sire.\nHis fiery wrath no longer glowed,\nAnd Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self the boon bestowed\nThat in the brunt of battle none\nShould slay with steel the Wind-God\u2019s son.\nLord Indra, sovereign of the skies,\nBent on thee all his thousand eyes,\nAnd swore that ne\u2019er the bolt which he\nHurls from the heaven should injure thee.\n\u2019Tis thine, O mighty chief, to share\nThe Wind-God\u2019s power, his son and heir.\nSprung from that glorious father thou,\nAnd thou alone, canst aid us now.\nThis earth of yore, through all her climes,\nI circled one-and-twenty times,\nAnd gathered, as the Gods decreed,\nGreat store of herbs from hill and mead,\nWhich, scattered o\u2019er the troubled wave,\nThe Amrit to the toilers gave.\nBut now my days are wellnigh told,\nMy strength is gone, my limbs are old,\nAnd thou, the bravest and the best,\nArt the sure hope of all the rest.\nNow, mighty chief, the task assay:\nThy matchless power and strength display.\nRise up, O prince, our second king,\nAnd o\u2019er the flood of ocean spring.\nSo shall the glorious exploit vie\nWith his who stepped through earth and sky.\u201d(784)\n\n  He spoke: the younger chieftain heard,\nHis soul to vigorous effort stirred,\nAnd stood before their joyous eyes\nDilated in gigantic size.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVII. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nSoon as his stature they beheld,\nTheir fear and sorrow were dispelled;\nAnd joyous praises loud and long\nRang out from all the V\u00e1nar throng.\nOn the great chief their eyes they bent\nIn rapture and astonishment,\nAs, when his conquering foot he raised,\nThe Gods upon N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47(785) gazed.\nHe stood amid the joyous crowd,\nBent to the chiefs, and cried aloud:\n\u201cThe Wind-God, Fire\u2019s eternal friend,\nWhose blasts the mountain summits rend,\nWith boundless force that none may stay,\nTakes where he lists his viewless way.\nSprung from that glorious father, I\nIn power and speed with him may vie,\nA thousand times with airy leap\nCan circle loftiest Meru\u2019s steep:\nWith my fierce arms can stir the sea\nTill from their bed the waters flee\nAnd rush at my command to drown\nThis land with grove and tower and town.\nI through the fields of air can spring\nFar swifter than the feathered King,\nAnd leap before him as he flies,\nOn sounding pinions through the skies.\nI can pursue the Lord of Light\nUprising from the eastern height,\nAnd reach him ere his course be sped\nWith burning beams engarlanded.\nI will dry up the mighty main,\nShatter the rocks and rend the plain.\nO\u2019er earth and ocean will I bound,\nAnd every flower that grows on ground,\nAnd bloom of climbing plants shall show\nStrewn on the ground, the way I go,\nBright as the lustrous path that lies\nAthwart the region of the skies.(786)\nThe Maithil lady will I find,\u2014\nThus speaks mine own prophetic mind,\u2014\nAnd cast in hideous ruin down\nThe shattered walls of Lank\u00e1\u2019s town.\u201d\n\n  Still on the chief in rapt surprise\nThe V\u00e1nar legions bent their eyes,\nAnd thus again sage J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n\nAddressed the glorious Hanum\u00e1n:\n\u201cSon of the Wind, thy promise cheers\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 hearts, and calms their fears,\nWho, rescued from their dire distress,\nWith prospering vows thy way will bless.\nThe holy saints their favour lend,\nAnd all our chiefs the deed commend\nUrging thee forward on thy way:\nArise then, and the task assay.\nThou art our only refuge; we,\nOur lives and all, depend on thee.\u201d\n\n  Then sprang the Wind-God\u2019s son the best\nOf V\u00e1nars, on Mahendra\u2019s crest,\nAnd the great mountain rocked and swayed\nBy that unusual weight dismayed,\nAs reels an elephant beneath\nThe lion\u2019s spring and rending teeth.\nThe shady wood that crowned him shook,\nThe trembling birds the boughs forsook,\nAnd ape and pard and lion fled\nFrom brake and lair disquieted.\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK V.(787)\n\n\n\n\nCanto I. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Leap.\n\n\nThus R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s foe resolved to trace\nThe captive to her hiding-place\nThrough airy pathways overhead\nWhich heavenly minstrels visited.\nWith straining nerve and eager brows,\nLike some strong husband of the cows,\nIn ready might he stood prepared\nFor the bold task his soul has dared.\nO\u2019er gem-like grass that flashed and glowed\nThe V\u00e1nar like a lion strode.\nRoused by the thunder of his tread,\nThe beasts to shady coverts fled.\nTall trees he crushed or hurled aside,\nAnd every bird was terrified.\nAround him loveliest lilies grew,\nPale pink, and red, and white, and blue,\nAnd tints of many a metal lent\nThe light of varied ornament.\nGandharvas, changing forms at will,\nAnd Yakshas roamed the lovely hill,\nAnd countless Serpent-Gods were seen\nWhere flowers and grass were fresh and green.\nAs some resplendent serpent takes\nHis pastime in the best of lakes,\nSo on the mountain\u2019s woody height\nThe V\u00e1nar wandered with delight.\nThen, standing on the flowery sod,\nHe paid his vows to saint and God.\nSvayambhu(788) and the Sun he prayed,\nAnd the swift Wind to lend him aid,\nAnd Indra, sovereign of the skies,\nTo bless his hardy enterprise.\nThen once again the chief addressed\nThe V\u00e1nars from the mountain crest:\n\u201cSwift as a shaft from R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow\nTo R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s city will I go,\nAnd if she be not there will fly\nAnd seek the lady in the sky;\nOr, if in heaven she be not found,\nWill hither bring the giant bound.\u201d\n\n  He ceased; and mustering his might\nSprang downward from the mountain height,\nWhile, shattered by each mighty limb,\nThe trees unrooted followed him.\nThe shadow on the ocean cast\nBy his vast form, as on he passed,\nFlew like a ship before the gale\nWhen the strong breeze has filled the sail,\nAnd where his course the V\u00e1nar held\nThe sea beneath him raged and swelled.\nThen Gods and all the heavenly train\nPoured flowerets down in gentle rain;\nTheir voices glad Gandharvas raised,\nAnd saints in heaven the V\u00e1nar praised.\nFain would the Sea his succour lend\nAnd Raghu\u2019s noble son befriend.\nHe, moved by zeal for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake,\nThe hill Main\u00e1ka(789) thus bespake:\n\u201cO strong Main\u00e1ka, heaven\u2019s decree\nIn days of old appointed thee\nTo be the Asurs bar, and keep\nThe rebels in the lowest deep.\nThou guardest those whom heaven has cursed\nLest from their prison-house they burst,\nAnd standest by the gates of hell\nTheir limitary sentinel.\nTo thee is given the power to spread\nOr spring above thy watery bed.\nNow, best of noble mountains, rise\nAnd do the thing that I advise.\nE\u2019en now above thy buried crest\nFlies mighty Hanum\u00e1n, the best\nOf V\u00e1nars, moved for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake\nA wonderous deed to undertake.\nLift up thy head that he may stay\nAnd rest him on his weary way.\u201d\n\n  He heard, and from his watery shroud,\nAs bursts the sun from autumn cloud,\nRose swifty, crowned with plant and tree,\nAnd stood above the foamy sea.(790)\nThere with his lofty peaks upraised\nBright as a hundred suns he blazed,\nAnd crest and crag of burnished gold\nFlashed on the flood that round him rolled.\nThe V\u00e1nar thought the mountain rose\nA hostile bar to interpose,\nAnd, like a wind-swept cloud, o\u2019erthrew\nThe glittering mountain as he flew.\nThen from the falling hill rang out\nA warning voice and joyful shout.\nAgain he raised him high in air\nTo meet the flying V\u00e1nar there,\nAnd standing on his topmost peak\nIn human form began to speak:(791)\n\u201cBest of the V\u00e1nars\u2019 noblest line,\nA mighty task, O chief, is thine.\nHere for a while, I pray thee, light\nAnd rest upon the breezy height.\nA prince of Raghu\u2019s line was he\nWho gave his glory to the Sea,(792)\nWho now to R\u00e1ma\u2019s envoy shows\nHigh honour for the debt he owes.\nHe bade me lift my buried head\nUprising from my watery bed,\nAnd woo the V\u00e1nar chief to rest\nA moment on my glittering crest.\nRefresh thy weary limbs, and eat\nMy mountain fruits for they are sweet.\nI too, O chieftain, know thee well;\nThree worlds thy famous virtues tell;\nAnd none, I ween, with thee may vie\nWho spring impetuous through the sky.\nTo every guest, though mean and low.\nThe wise respect and honour show;\nAnd how shall I neglect thee, how\nSlight the great guest so near me now?\nSon of the Wind, \u2019tis thine to share\nThe might of him who shakes the air;\nAnd,\u2014for he loves his offspring,\u2014he\nIs honoured when I honour thee.\nOf yore, when Krita\u2019s age(793) was new,\nThe little hills and mountains flew\nWhere\u2019er they listed, borne on wings\nMore rapid than the feathered king\u2019s.(794)\nBut mighty terror came on all\nThe Gods and saints who feared their fall.\nAnd Indra in his anger rent\nTheir pinions with the bolts he sent.\nWhen in his ruthless fury he\nLevelled his flashing bolt at me,\nThe great-souled Wind inclined to save,\nAnd laid me neath the ocean\u2019s wave.\nThus by the favour of the sire\nI kept my cherished wings entire;\nAnd for this deed of kindness done\nI honour thee his noble son.\nO come, thy weary limbs relieve,\nAnd honour due from me receive.\u201d\n\u201cI may not rest,\u201d the V\u00e1nar cried;\n\u201cI must not stay or turn aside.\nYet pleased am I, thou noblest hill,\nAnd as the deed accept thy will.\u201d\n\n  Thus as he spoke he lightly pressed\nWith his broad hand the mountain\u2019s crest,\nThen bounded upward to the height\nOf heaven, rejoicing in his might,\nAnd through the fields of boundless blue,\nThe pathway of his father, flew.\nGods, saints, and heavenly bards beheld\nThat flight that none had paralleled,\nThen to the N\u00e1gas\u2019 mother(795) came\nAnd thus addressed the sun-bright dame:\n\u201cSee, Hanum\u00e1n with venturous leap\nWould spring across the mighty deep,\u2014\nA V\u00e1nar prince, the Wind-God\u2019s seed:\nCome, Suras\u00e1, his course impede.\nIn R\u00e1kshas form thy shape disguise,\nTerrific, like a hill in size:\nLet thy red eyes with fury glow,\nAnd high as heaven thy body grow.\nWith fearful tusks the chief defy,\nThat we his power and strength may try.\nHe will with guile thy hold elude,\nOr own thy might, by thee subdued.\u201d\n\n  Pleased with the grateful honours paid,\nThe godlike dame their words obeyed,\nClad in a shape of terror she\nSprang from the middle of the sea,\nAnd, with fierce accents that appalled\nAll creatures, to the V\u00e1nar called:\n\u201cCome, prince of V\u00e1nars, doomed to be\nMy food this day by heaven\u2019s decree.\nSuch boon from ages long ago\nTo Brahm\u00e1\u2019s favouring will I owe.\u201d\n\n  She ceased, and Hanum\u00e1n replied,\nBy shape and threat unterrified:\n\u201cBrave R\u00e1ma with his Maithil spouse\nLodged in the shade of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s boughs,\nThence R\u00e1van king of giants stole\nS\u00edt\u00e1 the joy of R\u00e1ma\u2019s soul.\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s high behest to her\nI go a willing messenger;\nAnd never shouldst them hinder one\nWho toils for Da\u015baratha\u2019s son.\nFirst captive S\u00edt\u00e1 will I see,\nAnd him who sent and waits for me,\nThen come and to thy will submit,\nYea, by my truth I promise it.\u201d\n\u201cNay, hope not thus thy life to save;\nNot such the boon that Brahm\u00e1 gave.\nEnter my mouth,\u201d was her reply,\n\u201cThen forward on thy journey hie!\u201d(796)\n\n  \u201cStretch, wider stretch thy jaws,\u201d exclaimed\nThe V\u00e1nar chief, to ire inflamed;\nAnd, as the R\u00e1kshas near him drew,\nTen leagues in height his stature grew.\nThen straight, her threatening jaws between,\nA gulf of twenty leagues was seen.\nTo fifty leagues he waxed, and still\nHer mouth grew wider at her will.\nThen smaller than a thumb became,\nShrunk by his power, the V\u00e1nar\u2019s frame.(797)\nHe leaped within, and turning round\nSprang through the portal at a bound.\nThen hung in air a moment, while\nHe thus addressed her with a smile:\n\u201cO Daksha\u2019s child,(798) farewell at last!\nFor I within thy mouth have passed.\nThou hast the gift of Brahm\u00e1\u2019s grace:\nI go, the Maithil queen to trace.\u201d\nThen, to her former shape restored,\nShe thus addressed the V\u00e1nar lord:\n\u201cThen forward to the task, and may\nSuccess and joy attend thy way!\nGo, and the rescued lady bring\nIn triumph to her lord and king.\u201d\n\n  Then hosts of spirits as they gazed\nThe daring of the V\u00e1nar praised.\nThrough the broad fields of ether, fast\nGaru\u1e0d\u2019s royal self, he passed,\nThe region of the cloud and rain,\nLoved by the gay Gandharva train,\nWhere mid the birds that came and went\nShone Indra\u2019s glorious bow unbent,\nAnd like a host of wandering stars\nFlashed the high Gods\u2019 celestial cars.\nFierce Sinhik\u00e1(799) who joyed in ill\nAnd changed her form to work her will,\nDescried him on his airy way\nAnd marked the V\u00e1nar for her prey.\n\u201cThis day at length,\u201d the demon cried,\n\u201cMy hunger shall be satisfied,\u201d\nAnd at his passing shadow caught\nDelighted with the cheering thought.\nThe V\u00e1nar felt the power that stayed\nAnd held him as she grasped his shade,\nLike some tall ship upon the main\nThat struggles with the wind in vain.\nBelow, above, his eye he bent\nAnd scanned the sea and firmament.\nHigh from the briny deep upreared\nThe monster\u2019s hideous form appeared,\n\u201cSugr\u00edva\u2019s tale,\u201d he cried, \u201cis true:\nThis is the demon dire to view\nOf whom the V\u00e1nar monarch told,\nWhose grasp a passing shade can hold.\u201d\nThen, as a cloud in rain-time grows\nHis form, dilating, swelled and rose.\nWide as the space from heaven to hell\nHer jaws she opened with a yell,\nAnd rushed upon her fancied prey\nWith cloud-like roar to seize and slay.\nThe V\u00e1nar swift as thought compressed\nHis borrowed bulk of limb and chest,\nAnd stood with one quick bound inside\nThe monstrous mouth she opened wide.\nHid like the moon when R\u00e1hu draws\nThe orb within his ravening jaws.\nWithin that ample cavern pent\nThe demon\u2019s form he tore and rent,\nAnd, from the mangled carcass freed,\nCame forth again with thought-like speed.(800)\nThus with his skill the fiend he slew,\nThen to his wonted stature grew.\nThe spirits saw the demon die\nAnd hailed the V\u00e1nar from the sky:\n\u201cWell hast thou fought a wondrous fight\nNor spared the fiend\u2019s terrific might,\nOn, on! perform the blameless deed,\nAnd in thine every wish succeed.\nNe\u2019er can they fail in whom combine\nSuch valour, thought, and skill as thine.\u201d\n\n  Pleased with their praises as they sang,\nAgain through fields of air he sprang,\nAnd now, his travail wellnigh done,\nThe distant shore was almost won.\nBefore him on the margent stood\nIn long dark line a waving wood,\nAnd the fair island, bright and green\nWith flowers and trees, was clearly seen,\nAnd every babbling brook that gave\nHer lord the sea a tribute wave.\nHe lighted down on Lamba\u2019s peak\nWhich tinted metals stain and streak,\nAnd looked where Lank\u00e1\u2019s splendid town\nShone on the mountain like a crown.\n\n\n\n\nCanto II. Lank\u00e1.\n\n\nThe glorious sight a while he viewed,\nThen to the town his way pursued.\nAround the V\u00e1nar as he went\nBreathed from the wood delicious scent,\nAnd the soft grass beneath his feet\nWith gem-like flowers was bright and sweet.\nStill as the V\u00e1nar nearer drew\nMore clearly rose the town to view.\nThe palm her fan-like leaves displayed,\nPriy\u00e1las(801) lent their pleasant shade,\nAnd mid the lower greenery far\nConspicuous rose the Kovid\u00e1r.(802)\nA thousand trees mid flowers that glowed\nHung down their fruit\u2019s delicious load,(803)\nAnd in their crests that rocked and swayed\nSweet birds delightful music made.\nAnd there were pleasant pools whereon\nThe glories of the lotus shone;\nAnd gleams of sparkling fountains, stirred\nBy many a joyous water-bird.\nAround, in lovely gardens grew\nBlooms sweet of scent and bright of hue,\nAnd Lank\u00e1, seat of R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s sway,\nBefore the wondering V\u00e1nar lay:\nWith stately domes and turrets tall,\nEncircled by a golden wall,\nAnd moats whose waters were aglow\nWith lily blossoms bright below:\nFor S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s sake defended well\nWith bolt and bar and sentinel,\nAnd R\u00e1kshases who roamed in bands\nWith ready bows in eager hands.\nHe saw the stately mansions rise\nLike pale-hued clouds in autumn skies;\nWhere noble streets were broad and bright,\nAnd banners waved on every height.\nHer gates were glorious to behold\nRich with the shine of burnished gold:\nA lovely city planned and decked\nBy heaven\u2019s creative architect,(804)\nFairest of earthly cities meet\nTo be the Gods\u2019 celestial seat.\nThe V\u00e1nar by the northern gate\nThus in his heart began debate\n\u201cOur mightiest host would strive in vain\nTo take this city on the main:\nA city that may well defy\nThe chosen warriors of the sky;\nA city never to be won\nE\u2019en by the arm of Raghu\u2019s son.\nHere is no hope by guile to win\nThe hostile hearts of those within.\n\u2019Twere vain to war, or bribe, or sow\nDissension mid the V\u00e1nar foe.\nBut now my search must I pursue\nUntil the Maithil queen I view:\nAnd, when I find the captive dame,\nMake victory mine only aim.\nBut, if I wear my present shape,\nHow shall I enter and escape\nThe R\u00e1kshas troops, their guards and spies,\nAnd sleepless watch of cruel eyes?\nThe fiends of giant race who hold\nThis mighty town are strong and bold;\nAnd I must labour to elude\nThe fiercely watchful multitude.\nI in a shape to mock their sight\nMust steal within the town by night,\nBlind with my art the demons\u2019 eyes,\nAnd thus achieve my enterprise.\nHow may I see, myself unseen\nOf the fierce king, the captive queen,\nAnd meet her in some lonely place,\nWith none beside her, face to face?\u201d\n\n  When the bright sun had left the skies\nThe V\u00e1nar dwarfed his mighty size,\nAnd, in the straitest bounds restrained,\nThe bigness of a cat retained.(805)\nThen, when the moon\u2019s soft light was spread,\nWithin the city\u2019s walls he sped.\n\n\n\n\nCanto III. The Guardian Goddess.\n\n\nThere from the circling rampart\u2019s height\nHe gazed upon the wondrous sight;\nBroad gates with burnished gold displayed,\nAnd courts with turkises inlaid;\nWith gleaming silver, gems, and rows\nOf crystal stairs and porticoes.\nIn semblance of a R\u00e1kshas dame\nThe city\u2019s guardian Goddess came,\u2014\nFor she with glances sure and keen\nThe entrance of a foe had seen,\u2014\nAnd thus with fury in her eye\nAddressed him with an angry cry:\n\u201cWho art thou? what has led thee, say,\nWithin these walls to find thy way?\nThou mayst not enter here in spite\nOf R\u00e1va\u1e47 and his warriors\u2019 might.\u201d\n\u201cAnd who art thou?\u201d the V\u00e1nar cried,\nBy form and frown unterrified,\n\u201cWhy hast thou met me by the gate,\nAnd chid me thus infuriate?\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and Lank\u00e1 made reply:\n\u201cThe guardian of the town am I,\nWho watch for ever to fulfil\nMy lord the R\u00e1kshas monarch\u2019s will.\nBut thou shalt fall this hour, and deep\nShall be thy never-ending sleep.\u201d\n\n  Again he spake: \u201cIn spite of thee\nThis golden city will I see.\nHer gates and towers, and all the pride\nOf street and square from side to side,\nAnd freely wander where I please\nAmid her groves of flowering trees;\nOn all her beauties sate mine eye.\nThen, as I came, will homeward hie.\u201d\n\n  Swift with an angry roar she smote\nWith her huge hand the V\u00e1nar\u2019s throat.\nThe smitten V\u00e1nar, rage-impelled,\nWith fist upraised the monster felled:\nBut quick repented, stirred with shame\nAnd pity for a vanquished dame,\nWhen with her senses troubled, weak\nWith terror, thus she strove to speak:\n\u201cO spare me thou whose arm is strong:\nO spare me, and forgive the wrong.\nThe brave that law will ne\u2019er transgress\nThat spares a woman\u2019s helplessness.\nHear, best of V\u00e1nars, brave and bold,\nWhat Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self of yore foretold;\n\u201cBeware,\u201d he said, \u201cthe fatal hour\nWhen thou shalt own a V\u00e1nar\u2019s power.\nThen is the giants\u2019 day of fear,\nFor terror and defeat are near.\u201d\nNow, V\u00e1nar chief, o\u2019ercome by thee,\nI own the truth of heaven\u2019s decree.\nFor S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s sake will ruin fall\nOn R\u00e1va\u1e47, and his town, and all.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto IV. Within The City.\n\n\nThe guardian goddess thus subdued,\nThe V\u00e1nar chief his way pursued,\nAnd reached the broad imperial street\nWhere fresh-blown flowers were bright and sweet.\nThe city seemed a fairer sky\nWhere cloud-like houses rose on high,\nWhence the soft sound of tabors came\nThrough many a latticed window frame,\nAnd ever and anon rang out\nThe merry laugh and joyous shout.\nFrom house to house the V\u00e1nar went\nAnd marked each varied ornament,\nWhere leaves and blossoms deftly strung\nAbout the crystal columns hung.\nThen soft and full and sweet and clear\nThe song of women charmed his ear,\nAnd, blending with their dulcet tones,\nTheir anklets\u2019 chime and tinkling zones.\nHe heard the R\u00e1kshas minstrel sing\nThe praises of their matchless king;\nAnd softly through the evening air\nCame murmurings of text and prayer.\nHere moved a priest with tonsured head,\nAnd there an eager envoy sped,\nMid crowds with hair in matted twine\nClothed in the skins of deer and kine,\u2014\nWhose only arms, which none might blame,\nWere blades of grass and holy flame(806)\nThere savage warriors roamed in bands\nWith clubs and maces in their hands,\nSome dwarfish forms, some huge of size,\nWith single ears and single eyes.\nSome shone in glittering mail arrayed\nWith bow and mace and flashing blade;\nFiends of all shapes and every hue,\nSome fierce and foul, some fair to view.\nHe saw the grisly legions wait\nIn strictest watch at R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s gate,\nWhose palace on the mountain crest\nRose proudly towering o\u2019er the rest,\nFenced with high ramparts from the foe,\nAnd lotus-covered moats below.\nBut Hanum\u00e1n, unhindered, found\nQuick passage through the guarded bound,\nMid elephants of noblest breed,\nAnd gilded car and neighing steed.\n\n[I omit Canto V. which corresponds to chapter XI. in Gorresio\u2019s edition.\nThat scholar justly observes: \u201cThe eleventh chapter, Description of\nEvening, is certainly the work of the Rhapsodists and an interpolation of\nlater date. The chapter might be omitted without any injury to the action\nof the poem, and besides the metre, style, conceits and images differ from\nthe general tenour of the poem; and that continual repetition of the same\nsounds at the end of each hemistich which is not exactly rime, but\nassonance, reveals the artificial labour of a more recent age.\u201d The\nfollowing sample will probably be enough.\n\nFair shone the moon, as if to lend\nHis cheering light to guide a friend,\nAnd, circled by the starry host,\nLooked down upon the wild sea-coast.\nThe V\u00e1nar cheiftain raised his eyes,\nAnd saw him sailing through the skies\nLike a bright swan who joys to take\nHis pastime on a silver lake;\nFair moon that calms the mourner\u2019s pain.\nHeaves up the waters of the main,\nAnd o\u2019er the life beneath him throws\nA tender light of soft repose,\nThe charm that clings to Mandar\u2019s hill,\nGleams in the sea when winds are still,\nAnd decks the lilly\u2019s opening flower,\nShowed in that moon her sweetest power.\n\nI am unable to show the difference of style in a translation.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto VI. The Court.\n\n\nThe palace gates were guarded well\nBy many a R\u00e1kshas sentinel,\nAnd far within, concealed from view,\nWere dames and female retinue\nFor charm of form and face renowned;\nWhose tinkling armlets made a sound,\nClashed by the wearers in their glee,\nLike music of a distant sea.\nThe hall beyond the palace gate,\nRich with each badge of royal state,\nWhere lines of noble courtiers stood,\nShowed like a lion-guarded wood.\nThere the wild music rose and fell\nOf drum and tabor and of shell,\nThrough chambers at each holy tide\nBy solemn worship sanctified.\nThrough grove and garden, undismayed,\nFrom house to house the V\u00e1nar strayed,\nAnd still his wondering glances bent\nOn terrace, dome, and battlement:\nThen with a light and rapid tread\nPrahasta\u2019s(807) home he visited,\nAnd Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s(808) courtyard where\nA cloudy pile rose high in air;\nAnd, wandering o\u2019er the hill, explored\nThe garden of each R\u00e1kshas lord.\nEach court and grove he wandered through,\nThen nigh to R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s palace drew.\nShe-demons watched it foul of face,\nEach armed with sword and spear and mace,\nAnd warrior fiends of every hue,\nA strange and fearful retinue.\nThere elephants in many a row,\nThe terror of the stricken foe.\nHuge Air\u00e1vat,(809) deftly trained\nIn battle-fields, stood ready chained.\nFair litters on the ground were set\nAdorned with gems and golden net.\nGay bloomy creepers clothed the walls;\nGreen bowers were there and picture halls,\nAnd chambers made for soft delight.\nBroad banners waved on every height.\nAnd from the roof like Mandar\u2019s hill\nThe peacock\u2019s cry came loud and shrill.(810)\n\n\n\n\nCanto VII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Palace.\n\n\nHe passed within the walls and gazed\nOn gems and gold that round him blazed,\nAnd many a latticed window bright\nWith turkis and with lazulite.\nThrough porch and ante-rooms he passed\nEach richer, fairer than the last;\nAnd spacious halls where lances lay,\nAnd bows and shells, in fair array:\nA glorious house that matched in show\nAll Paradise displayed below.\nUpon the polished floor were spread\nFresh buds and blossoms white and red,\nAnd women shone, a lovely crowd,\nAs lightning flashes through a cloud:\nA palace splendid as the sky\nWhich moon and planets glorify:\nLike earth whose towering hills unfold\nTheir zones and streaks of glittering gold;\nWhere waving on the mountain brows\nThe tall trees bend their laden boughs,\nAnd every bough and tender spray\nWith a bright load of bloom is gay,\nAnd every flower the breeze has bent\nFills all the region with its scent.\nNear the tall palace pale of hue\nShone lovely lakes where lilies blew,\nAnd lotuses with flower and bud\nGleamed on the bosom of the flood.\nThere shone with gems that flashed afar\nThe marvel of the Flower-named(811) car,\nMid wondrous dwellings still confessed\nSupreme and nobler than the rest.\nThereon with wondrous art designed\nWere turkis birds of varied kind.\nAnd many a sculptured serpent rolled\nHis twisted coil in burnished gold.\nAnd steeds were there of noblest form\nWith flying feet as fleet as storm:\nAnd elephants with deftest skill\nStood sculptured by a silver rill,\nEach bearing on his trunk a wreath\nOf lilies from the flood beneath.\nThere Lakshm\u00ed,(812) beauty\u2019s heavenly queen,\nWrought by the artist\u2019s skill, was seen\nBeside a flower-clad pool to stand\nHolding a lotus in her hand.\n\n\n\n\nCanto VIII. The Enchanted Car.\n\n\nThere gleamed the car with wealth untold\nOf precious gems and burnished gold;\nNor could the Wind-God\u2019s son withdraw\nHis rapt gaze from the sight he saw,\nBy Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s(813) self proclaimed\nThe noblest work his hand had framed.\nUplifted in the air it glowed\nBright as the sun\u2019s diurnal road.\nThe eye might scan the wondrous frame\nAnd vainly seek one spot to blame,\nSo fine was every part and fair\nWith gems inlaid with lavish care.\nNo precious stones so rich adorn\nThe cars wherein the Gods are borne,\nPrize of the all-resistless might\nThat sprang from pain and penance rite,(814)\nObedient to the master\u2019s will\nIt moved o\u2019er wood and towering hill,\nA glorious marvel well designed\nBy Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s artist mind,\nAdorned with every fair device\nThat decks the cars of Paradise.\nSwift moving as the master chose\nIt flew through air or sank or rose,(815)\nAnd in its fleetness left behind\nThe fury of the rushing wind:\nMeet mansion for the good and great,\nThe holy, wise, and fortunate.\nThroughout the chariot\u2019s vast extent\nWere chambers wide and excellent,\nAll pure and lovely to the eyes\nAs moonlight shed from cloudless skies.\nFierce goblins, rovers of the night\nWho cleft the clouds with swiftest flight\nIn countless hosts that chariot drew,\nWith earrings clashing as they flew.\n\n\n\n\nCanto IX. The Ladies\u2019 Bower.\n\n\nWhere stately mansions rose around,\nA palace fairer still he found,\nWhose royal height and splendour showed\nWhere R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s self, the king, abode.\nA chosen band with bow and sword\nGuarded the palace of their lord,\nWhere R\u00e1ksha\u2019s dames of noble race\nAnd many a princess fair of face\nWhom R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s arm had torn away\nFrom vanquished kings in slumber lay.\nThere jewelled arches high o\u2019erhead\nAn ever-changing lustre shed\nFrom ruby, pearl, and every gem\nOn golden pillars under them.\nDelicious came the tempered air\nThat breathed a heavenly summer there,\nStealing through bloomy trees that bore\nEach pleasant fruit in endless store.\nNo check was there from jealous guard,\nNo door was fast, no portal barred;\nOnly a sweet air breathed to meet\nThe stranger, as a host should greet\nA wanderer of his kith and kin\nAnd woo his weary steps within.\nHe stood within a spacious hall\nWith fretted roof and painted wall,\nThe giant R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s boast and pride,\nLoved even as a lovely bride.\n\u2019Twere long to tell each marvel there,\nThe crystal floor, the jewelled stair,\nThe gold, the silver, and the shine\nOf chrysolite and almandine.\nThere breathed the fairest blooms of spring;\nThere flashed the proud swan\u2019s silver wing,\nThe splendour of whose feathers broke\nThrough fragrant wreaths of aloe smoke.\n\u201c\u2019Tis Indra\u2019s heaven,\u201d the V\u00e1nar cried,\nGazing in joy from side to side;\n\u201cThe home of all the Gods is this,\nThe mansion of eternal bliss.\u201d\nThere were the softest carpets spread,\nDelightful to the sight and tread,\nWhere many a lovely woman lay\nO\u2019ercome by sleep, fatigued with play.\nThe wine no longer cheered the feast,\nThe sound of revelry had ceased.\nThe tinkling feet no longer stirred,\nNo chiming of a zone was heard.\nSo when each bird has sought her nest,\nAnd swans are mute and wild bees rest,\nSleep the fair lilies on the lake\nTill the sun\u2019s kiss shall bid them wake.\nLike the calm field of winter\u2019s sky\nWhich stars unnumbered glorify,\nSo shone and glowed the sumptuous room\nWith living stars that chased the gloom.\n\u201cThese are the stars,\u201d the chieftain cried,\n\u201cIn autumn nights that earth-ward glide,\nIn brighter forms to reappear\nAnd shine in matchless lustre here.\u201d\nWith wondering eyes a while he viewed\nEach graceful form and attitude.\nOne lady\u2019s head was backward thrown,\nBare was her arm and loose her zone.\nThe garland that her brow had graced\nHung closely round another\u2019s waist.\nHere gleamed two little feet all bare\nOf anklets that had sparkled there,\nHere lay a queenly dame at rest\nIn all her glorious garments dressed.\nThere slept another whose small hand\nHad loosened every tie and band,\nIn careless grace another lay\nWith gems and jewels cast away,\nLike a young creeper when the tread\nOf the wild elephant has spread\nConfusion and destruction round,\nAnd cast it flowerless to the ground.\nHere lay a slumberer still as death,\nSave only that her balmy breath\nRaised ever and anon the lace\nThat floated o\u2019er her sleeping face.\nThere, sunk in sleep, an amorous maid\nHer sweet head on a mirror laid,\nLike a fair lily bending till\nHer petals rest upon the rill.\nAnother black-eyed damsel pressed\nHer lute upon her heaving breast,\nAs though her loving arms were twined\nRound him for whom her bosom pined.\nAnother pretty sleeper round\nA silver vase her arms had wound,\nThat seemed, so fresh and fair and young\nA wreath of flowers that o\u2019er it hung.\nIn sweet disorder lay a throng\nWeary of dance and play and song,\nWhere heedless girls had sunk to rest\nOne pillowed on another\u2019s breast,\nHer tender cheek half seen beneath\nBed roses of the falling wreath,\nThe while her long soft hair concealed\nThe beauties that her friend revealed.\nWith limbs at random interlaced\nRound arm and leg and throat and waist,\nThat wreath of women lay asleep\nLike blossoms in a careless heap.\n\n\n\n\nCanto X. R\u00e1van Asleep.\n\n\nApart a dais of crystal rose\nWith couches spread for soft repose,\nAdorned with gold and gems of price\nMeet for the halls of Paradise.\nA canopy was o\u2019er them spread\nPale as the light the moon beams shed,\nAnd female figures,(816) deftly planned,\nThe faces of the sleepers fanned,\nThere on a splendid couch, asleep\nOn softest skins of deer and sheep.\nDark as a cloud that dims the day\nThe monarch of the giants lay,\nPerfumed with sandal\u2019s precious scent\nAnd gay with golden ornament.\nHis fiery eyes in slumber closed,\nIn glittering robes the king reposed\nLike Mandar\u2019s mighty hill asleep\nWith flowery trees that clothe his steep.\nNear and more near the V\u00e1nar\nThe monarch of the fiends to view,\nAnd saw the giant stretched supine\nFatigued with play and drunk with wine.\nWhile, shaking all the monstrous frame,\nHis breath like hissing serpents\u2019 came.\nWith gold and glittering bracelets gay\nHis mighty arms extended lay\nHuge as the towering shafts that bear\nThe flag of Indra high in air.\nScars by Air\u00e1vat\u2019s tusk impressed\nShowed red upon his shaggy breast.\nAnd on his shoulders were displayed\nThe dints the thunder-bolt had made.(817)\nThe spouses of the giant king\nAround their lord were slumbering,\nAnd, gay with sparkling earrings, shone\nFair as the moon to look upon.\nThere by her husband\u2019s side was seen\nMandodar\u00ed the favourite queen,\nThe beauty of whose youthful face\nBeamed a soft glory through the place.\nThe V\u00e1nar marked the dame more fair\nThan all the royal ladies there,\nAnd thought, \u201cThese rarest beauties speak\nThe matchless dame I come to seek.\nPeerless in grace and splendour, she\nThe Maithil queen must surely be.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XI. The Banquet Hall.\n\n\nBut soon the baseless thought was spurned\nAnd longing hope again returned:\n\u201cNo: R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife is none of these,\nNo careless dame that lives at ease.\nHer widowed heart has ceased to care\nFor dress and sleep and dainty fare.\nShe near a lover ne\u2019er would lie\nThough Indra wooed her from the sky.\nHer own, her only lord, whom none\nCan match in heaven, is Raghu\u2019s son.\u201d\n\n  Then to the banquet hall intent\nOn strictest search his steps he bent.\nHe passed within the door, and found\nFair women sleeping on the ground,\nWhere wearied with the song, perchance,\nThe merry game, the wanton dance,\nEach girl with wine and sleep oppressed\nHad sunk her drooping head to rest.\nThat spacious hall from side to side\nWith noblest fare was well supplied,\nThere quarters of the boar, and here\nRoast of the buffalo and deer,\nThere on gold plate, untouched as yet\nThe peacock and the hen were set.\nThere deftly mixed with salt and curd\nWas meat of many a beast and bird,\nOf kid and porcupine and hare,\nAnd dainties of the sea and air.\nThere wrought of gold, ablaze with shine\nOf precious stones, were cups of wine.\nThrough court and bower and banquet hall\nThe V\u00e1nar passed and viewed them all;\nFrom end to end, in every spot,\nFor S\u00edt\u00e1 searched, but found her not.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XII. The Search Renewed.\n\n\nAgain the V\u00e1nar chief began\nEach chamber, bower, and hall to scan.\nIn vain: he found not her he sought,\nAnd pondered thus in bitter thought:\n\u201cAh me the Maithil queen is slain:\nShe, ever true and free from stain,\nThe fiend\u2019s entreaty has denied,\nAnd by his cruel hand has died.\nOr has she sunk, by terror killed,\nWhen first she saw the palace filled\nWith female monsters evil miened\nWho wait upon the robber fiend?\nNo battle fought, no might displayed,\nIn vain this anxious search is made;\nNor shall my steps, made slow by shame,\nBecause I failed to find the dame,\nBack to our lord the king be bent,\nFor he is swift to punishment.\nIn every bower my feet have been,\nThe dames of R\u00e1va\u1e47 have I seen;\nBut R\u00e1ma\u2019s spouse I seek in vain,\nAnd all my toil is fruitless pain.\nHow shall I meet the V\u00e1nar band\nI left upon the ocean strand?\nHow, when they bid me speak, proclaim\nThese tidings of defeat and shame?\nHow shall I look on Angad\u2019s eye?\nWhat words will J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n reply?\nYet dauntless hearts will never fail\nTo win success though foes assail,\nAnd I this sorrow will subdue\nAnd search the palace through and through,\nExploring with my cautious tread\nEach spot as yet unvisited.\u201d\n\n  Again he turned him to explore\nEach chamber, hall, and corridor,\nAnd arbour bright with scented bloom,\nAnd lodge and cell and picture-room.\nWith eager eye and noiseless feet\nHe passed through many a cool retreat\nWhere women lay in slumber drowned;\nBut S\u00edt\u00e1 still was nowhere found.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIII. Despair And Hope.\n\n\nThen rapid as the lightning\u2019s flame\nFrom R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s halls the V\u00e1nar came.\nEach lingering hope was cold and dead,\nAnd thus within his heart he said:\n\u201cAlas, my fruitless search is done:\nLong have I toiled for Raghu\u2019s son;\nAnd yet with all my care have seen\nNo traces of the ravished queen.\nIt may be, while the giant through\nThe lone air with his captive flew,\nThe Maithil lady, tender-souled,\nSlipped struggling from the robber\u2019s hold,\nAnd the wild sea is rolling now\nO\u2019er S\u00edt\u00e1 of the beauteous brow.\nOr did she perish of alarm\nWhen circled by the monster\u2019s arm?\nOr crushed, unable to withstand\nThe pressure of that monstrous hand?\nOr when she spurned his suit with scorn,\nHer tender limbs were rent and torn.\nAnd she, her virtue unsubdued,\nWas slaughtered for the giant\u2019s food.\nShall I to Raghu\u2019s son relate\nHis well-beloved consort\u2019s fate,\nMy crime the same if I reveal\nThe mournful story or conceal?\nIf with no happier tale to tell\nI seek our mountain citadel,\nHow shall I face our lord the king,\nAnd meet his angry questioning?\nHow shall I greet my friends, and brook\nThe muttered taunt, the scornful look?\nHow to the son of Raghu go\nAnd kill him with my tale of woe?\nFor sure the mournful tale I bear\nWill strike him dead with wild despair.\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 ever fond and true,\nWill, undivided, perish too.\nBharat will learn his brother\u2019s fate,\nAnd die of grief disconsolate,\nAnd sad \u015aatrughna with a cry\nOf anguish on his corpse will die.\nOur king Sugr\u00edva, ever found\nTrue to each bond in honour bound,\nWill mourn the pledge he vainly gave,\nAnd die with him he could not save.\nThen Rum\u00e1 his devoted wife\nFor her dead lord will leave her life,\nAnd T\u00e1r\u00e1, widowed and forlorn,\nWill die in anguish, sorrow-worn.\nOn Angad too the blow will fall\nKilling the hope and joy of all.\nThe ruin of their prince and king\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 souls with woe will wring.\nAnd each, overwhelmed with dark despair,\nWill beat his head and rend his hair.\nEach, graced and honoured long, will miss\nHis careless life of easy bliss,\nIn happy troops will play no more\nOn breezy rock and shady shore,\nBut with his darling wife and child\nWill seek the mountain top, and wild\nWith hopeless desolation, throw\nHimself, his wife, and babe, below.\nAh no: unless the dame I find\nI ne\u2019er will meet my V\u00e1nar kind.\nHere rather in some distant dell\nA lonely hermit will I dwell,\nWhere roots and berries will supply\nMy humble wants until I die;\nOr on the shore will raise a pyre\nAnd perish in the kindled fire.\nOr I will strictly fast until\nWith slow decay my life I kill,\nAnd ravening dogs and birds of air\nThe limbs of Hanum\u00e1n shall tear.\nHere will I die, but never bring\nDestruction on my race and king.\nBut still unsearched one grove I see\nWith many a bright A\u015boka tree.\nThere will I enter in, and through\nThe tangled shade my search renew.\nBe glory to the host on high,\nThe Sun and Moon who light the sky,\nThe Vasus(818) and the Maruts\u2019(819) train,\n\u00c1dityas(820) and the A\u015bvins(821) twain.\nSo may I win success, and bring\nThe lady back with triumphing.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIV. The Asoka Grove.\n\n\nHe cleared the barrier at a bound;\nHe stood within the pleasant ground,\nAnd with delighted eyes surveyed\nThe climbing plants and varied shade,\nHe saw unnumbered trees unfold\nThe treasures of their pendent gold,\nAs, searching for the Maithil queen,\nHe strayed through alleys soft and green;\nAnd when a spray he bent or broke\nSome little bird that slept awoke.\nWhene\u2019er the breeze of morning blew,\nWhere\u2019er a startled peacock flew,\nThe gaily coloured branches shed\nTheir flowery rain upon his head\nThat clung around the V\u00e1nar till\nHe seemed a blossom-covered hill,(822)\nThe earth, on whose fair bosom lay\nThe flowers that fell from every spray,\nWas glorious as a lovely maid\nIn all her brightest robes arrayed,\nHe saw the breath of morning shake\nThe lilies on the rippling lake\nWhose waves a pleasant lapping made\nOn crystal steps with gems inlaid.\nThen roaming through the enchanted ground,\nA pleasant hill the V\u00e1nar found,\nAnd grottoes in the living stone\nWith grass and flowery trees o\u2019ergrown.\nThrough rocks and boughs a brawling rill\nLeapt from the bosom of the hill,\nLike a proud beauty when she flies\nFrom her love\u2019s arms with angry eyes.\n\n  He clomb a tree that near him grew\nAnd leafy shade around him threw.\n\u201cHence,\u201d thought the V\u00e1nar, \u201cshall I see\nThe Maithil dame, if here she be,\nThese lovely trees, this cool retreat\nWill surely tempt her wandering feet.\nHere the sad queen will roam apart.\nAnd dream of R\u00e1ma in her heart.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XV. S\u00edt\u00e1.\n\n\nFair as Kail\u00e1sa white with snow\nHe saw a palace flash and glow,\nA crystal pavement gem-inlaid,\nAnd coral steps and colonnade,\nAnd glittering towers that kissed the skies,\nWhose dazzling splendour charmed his eyes.\nThere pallid, with neglected dress,\nWatched close by fiend and giantess,\nHer sweet face thin with constant flow\nOf tears, with fasting and with woe;\nPale as the young moon\u2019s crescent when\nThe first faint light returns to men:\nDim as the flame when clouds of smoke\nThe latent glory hide and choke;\nLike Rohi\u1e47\u00ed the queen of stars\nOppressed by the red planet Mars;\nFrom her dear friends and husband torn,\nAmid the cruel fiends, forlorn,\nWho fierce-eyed watch around her kept,\nA tender woman sat and wept.\nHer sobs, her sighs, her mournful mien,\nHer glorious eyes, proclaimed the queen.\n\u201cThis, this is she,\u201d the V\u00e1nar cried,\n\u201cFair as the moon and lotus-eyed,\nI saw the giant R\u00e1van bear\nA captive through the fields of air.\nSuch was the beauty of the dame;\nHer form, her lips, her eyes the same.\nThis peerless queen whom I behold\nIs R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife with limbs of gold.\nBest of the sons of men is he,\nAnd worthy of her lord is she.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVI. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nThen, all his thoughts on S\u00edt\u00e1 bent,\nThe V\u00e1nar chieftain made lament:\n\u201cThe queen to R\u00e1ma\u2019s soul endeared,\nBy Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s pious heart revered,\nLies here,\u2014for none may strive with Fate,\nA captive, sad and desolate.\nThe brothers\u2019 might full well she knows,\nAnd bravely bears the storm of woes,\nAs swelling Gang\u00e1 in the rains\nThe rush of every flood sustains.\nHer lord, for her, fierce B\u00e1li slew,\nVir\u00e1dha\u2019s monstrous might o\u2019erthrew,\nFor her the fourteen thousand slain\nIn Janasth\u00e1n bedewed the plain.\nAnd if for her Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son\nDestroyed the world \u2019twere nobly done.\nThis, this is she, so far renowned,\nWho sprang from out the furrowed ground,(823)\nChild of the high-souled king whose sway\nThe men of M\u00edthil\u00e1 obey:\nThe glorious lady wooed and won\nBy Da\u015baratha\u2019s noblest son;\nAnd now these sad eyes look on her\nMid hostile fiends a prisoner.\nFrom home and every bliss she fled\nBy wifely love and duty led,\nAnd heedless of a wanderer\u2019s woes,\nA life in lonely forests chose.\nThis, this is she so fair of mould.\nWhose limbs are bright as burnished gold.\nWhose voice was ever soft and mild,\nWho sweetly spoke and sweetly smiled.\nO, what is R\u00e1ma\u2019s misery! how\nHe longs to see his darling now!\nPining for one of her fond looks\nAs one athirst for water brooks.\nAbsorbed in woe the lady sees\nNo R\u00e1kshas guard, no blooming trees.\nHer eyes are with her thoughts, and they\nAre fixed on R\u00e1ma far away.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Guard.\n\n\nHis pitying eyes with tears bedewed,\nThe weeping queen again he viewed,\nAnd saw around the prisoner stand\nHer demon guard, a fearful band.\nSome earless, some with ears that hung\nLow as their feet and loosely swung:\nSome fierce with single ears and eyes,\nSome dwarfish, some of monstrous size:\nSome with their dark necks long and thin\nWith hair upon the knotty skin:\nSome with wild locks, some bald and bare,\nSome covered o\u2019er with bristly hair:\nSome tall and straight, some bowed and bent\nWith every foul disfigurement:\nAll black and fierce with eyes of fire,\nRuthless and stern and swift to ire:\nSome with the jackal\u2019s jaw and nose,\nSome faced like boars and buffaloes:\nSome with the heads of goats and kine,\nOf elephants, and dogs, and swine:\nWith lions\u2019 lips and horses\u2019 brows,\nThey walked with feet of mules and cows:\nSwords, maces, clubs, and spears they bore\nIn hideous hands that reeked with gore,\nAnd, never sated, turned afresh\nTo bowls of wine and piles of flesh.\nSuch were the awful guards who stood\nRound S\u00edt\u00e1 in that lovely wood,\nWhile in her lonely sorrow she\nWept sadly neath a spreading tree.\nHe watched the spouse of R\u00e1ma there\nRegardless of her tangled hair,\nHer jewels stripped from neck and limb,\nDecked only with her love of him.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVIII. R\u00e1van.\n\n\nWhile from his shelter in the boughs\nThe V\u00e1nar looked on R\u00e1ma\u2019s spouse\nHe heard the gathered giants raise\nThe solemn hymn of prayer and praise.\u2014\nPriests skilled in rite and ritual, who\nThe Vedas and their branches(824) knew.\nThen, as loud strains of music broke\nHis sleep, the giant monarch woke.\nSwift to his heart the thought returned\nOf the fair queen for whom he burned;\nNor could the amorous fiend control\nThe passion that absorbed his soul.\nIn all his brightest garb arrayed\nHe hastened to that lovely shade,\nWhere glowed each choicest flower and fruit,\nAnd the sweet birds were never mute,\nAnd tall deer bent their heads to drink\nOn the fair streamlet\u2019s grassy brink.\nNear that A\u015boka grove he drew,\u2014\nA hundred dames his retinue.\nLike Indra with the thousand eyes\nGirt with the beauties of the skies.\nSome walked beside their lord to hold\nThe chouries, fans, and lamps of gold.\nAnd others purest water bore\nIn golden urns, and paced before.\nSome carried, piled on golden plates,\nDelicious food of dainty cates;\nSome wine in massive bowls whereon\nThe fairest gems resplendent shone.\nSome by the monarch\u2019s side displayed,\nWrought like a swan, a silken shade:\nAnother beauty walked behind,\nThe sceptre to her care assigned.\nAround the monarch gleamed the crowd\nAs lightnings flash about a cloud,\nAnd each made music as she went\nWith zone and tinkling ornament.\nAttended thus in royal state\nThe monarch reached the garden gate,\nWhile gold and silver torches, fed\nWith scented oil a soft light shed.(825)\nHe, while the flame of fierce desire\nBurnt in his eyes like kindled fire,\nSeemed Love incarnate in his pride,\nHis bow and arrows laid aside.(826)\nHis robe, from spot and blemish free\nLike Amrit foamy from the sea,(827)\nHung down in many a loosened fold\nInwrought with flowers and bright with gold.\nThe V\u00e1nar from his station viewed,\nAmazed, the wondrous multitude,\nWhere, in the centre of that ring\nOf noblest women, stood the king,\nAs stands the full moon fair to view,\nGirt by his starry retinue.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIX. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Fear.\n\n\nThen o\u2019er the lady\u2019s soul and frame\nA sudden fear and trembling came,\nWhen, glowing in his youthful pride,\nShe saw the monarch by her side.\nSilent she sat, her eyes depressed,\nHer soft arms folded o\u2019er her breast,\nAnd,\u2014all she could,\u2014her beauties screened\nFrom the bold gazes of the fiend.\nThere where the wild she-demons kept\nTheir watch around, she sighed and wept.\nThen, like a severed bough, she lay\nProne on the bare earth in dismay.\nThe while her thoughts on love\u2019s fleet wings\nFlew to her lord the best of kings.\nShe fell upon the ground, and there\nLay struggling with her wild despair,\nSad as a lady born again\nTo misery and woe and pain,\nNow doomed to grief and low estate,\nOnce noble fair and delicate:\nLike faded light of holy lore,\nLike Hope when all her dreams are o\u2019er;\nLike ruined power and rank debased,\nLike majesty of kings disgraced:\nLike worship foiled by erring slips,\nThe moon that labours in eclipse;\nA pool with all her lilies dead,\nAn army when its king has fled:\nSo sad and helpless wan and worn,\nShe lay among the fiends forlorn.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XX. R\u00e1van\u2019s Wooing.\n\n\nWith amorous look and soft address\nThe fiend began his suit to press:\n\u201cWhy wouldst thou, lady lotus-eyed,\nFrom my fond glance those beauties hide?\nMine eager suit no more repel:\nBut love me, for I love thee well.\nDismiss, sweet dame, dismiss thy fear;\nNo giant and no man is near.\nOurs is the right by force to seize\nWhat dames soe\u2019er our fancy please.(828)\nBut I with rude hands will not touch\nA lady whom I love so much.\nFear not, dear queen: no fear is nigh:\nCome, on thy lover\u2019s love rely,\nSome little sign of favor show,\nNor lie enamoured of thy woe.\nThose limbs upon that cold earth laid,\nThose tresses twined in single braid,(829)\nThe fast and woe that wear thy frame,\nBeseem not thee, O beauteous dame.\nFor thee the fairest wreaths were meant,\nThe sandal and the aloe\u2019s scent,\nRich ornaments and pearls of price,\nAnd vesture meet for Paradise.\nWith dainty cates shouldst thou be fed,\nAnd rest upon a sumptuous bed.\nAnd festive joys to thee belong,\nThe music, and the dance and song.\nRise, pearl of women, rise and deck\nWith gems and chains thine arms and neck.\nShall not the dame I love be seen\nIn vesture worthy of a queen?\nMethinks when thy sweet form was made\nHis hand the wise Creator stayed;\nFor never more did he design\nA beauty meet to rival thine.\nCome, let us love while yet we may,\nFor youth will fly and charms decay,\nCome cast thy grief and fear aside,\nAnd be my love, my chosen bride.\nThe gems and jewels that my hand\nHas reft from every plundered land,\u2014\nTo thee I give them all this day,\nAnd at thy feet my kingdom lay.\nThe broad rich earth will I o\u2019errun,\nAnd leave no town unconquered, none;\nThen of the whole an offering make\nTo Janak,(830) dear, for thy sweet sake.\nIn all the world no power I see\nOf God or man can strive with me.\nOf old the Gods and Asurs set\nIn terrible array I met:\nTheir scattered hosts to earth I beat,\nAnd trod their flags beneath my feet.\nCome, taste of bliss and drink thy fill,\nAnd rule the slave who serves thy will.\nThink not of wretched R\u00e1ma: he\nIs less than nothing now to thee.\nStript of his glory, poor, dethroned,\nA wanderer by his friends disowned,\nOn the cold earth he lays his head,\nOr is with toil and misery dead.\nAnd if perchance he lingers yet,\nHis eyes on thee shall ne\u2019er be set.\nCould he, that mighty monarch, who\nWas named Hira\u1e47yaka\u015bipu,\nCould he who wore the garb of gold\nWin Glory back from Indra\u2019s hold?(831)\nO lady of the lovely smile,\nWhose eyes the sternest heart beguile,\nIn all thy radiant beauty dressed\nMy heart and soul thou ravishest.\nWhat though thy robe is soiled and worn,\nAnd no bright gems thy limbs adorn,\nThou unadorned art dearer far\nThan all my loveliest consorts are.\nMy royal home is bright and fair;\nA thousand beauties meet me there,\nBut come, my glorious love, and be\nThe queen of all those dames and me.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXI. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Scorn.\n\n\nShe thought upon her lord and sighed,\nAnd thus in gentle tones replied:\n\u201cBeseems thee not, O King, to woo\nA matron, to her husband true.\nThus vainly one might hope by sin\nAnd evil deeds success to win.\nShall I, so highly born, disgrace\nMy husband\u2019s house, my royal race?\nShall I, a true and loyal dame,\nDefile my soul with deed of shame?\u201d\n\n  Then on the king her back she turned,\nAnd answered thus the prayer she spurned:\n\u201cTurn, R\u00e1va\u1e47, turn thee from thy sin;\nSeek virtue\u2019s paths and walk therein.\nTo others dames be honour shown;\nProtect them as thou wouldst thine own.\nTaught by thyself, from wrong abstain\nWhich, wrought on thee, thy heart would pain.(832)\nBeware: this lawless love of thine\nWill ruin thee and all thy line;\nAnd for thy sin, thy sin alone,\nWill Lank\u00e1 perish overthrown.\nDream not that wealth and power can sway\nMy heart from duty\u2019s path to stray.\nLinked like the Day-God and his shine,\nI am my lord\u2019s and he is mine.\nRepent thee of thine impious deed;\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s side his consort lead.\nBe wise; the hero\u2019s friendship gain,\nNor perish in his fury slain.\nGo, ask the God of Death to spare,\nOr red bolt flashing through the air,\nBut look in vain for spell or charm\nTo stay my R\u00e1ma\u2019s vengeful arm.\nThou, when the hero bends his bow,\nShalt hear the clang that heralds woe,\nLoud as the clash when clouds are rent\nAnd Indra\u2019s bolt to earth is sent.\nThen shall his furious shafts be sped,\nEach like a snake with fiery head,\nAnd in their flight shall hiss and flame\nMarked with the mighty archer\u2019s name.(833)\nThen in the fiery deluge all\nThy giants round their king shall fall.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Threat.\n\n\nThen anger swelled in R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s breast,\nWho fiercely thus the dame addressed:\n\u201c\u2019Tis ever thus: in vain we sue\nTo woman, and her favour woo.\nA lover\u2019s humble words impel\nHer wayward spirit to rebel.\nThe love of thee that fills my soul\nStill keeps my anger in control,\nAs charioteers with bit and rein\nThe swerving of the steed restrain.\nThe love that rules me bids me spare\nThy forfeit life, O thou most fair.\nFor this, O S\u00edt\u00e1, have I borne\nThe keen reproach, the bitter scorn,\nAnd the fond love thou boastest yet\nFor that poor wandering anchoret;\nElse had the words which thou hast said\nBrought death upon thy guilty head.\nTwo months, fair dame, I grant thee still\nTo bend thee to thy lover\u2019s will.\nIf when that respite time is fled\nThou still refuse to share my bed,\nMy cooks shall mince thy limbs with steel\nAnd serve thee for my morning meal.\u201d(834)\n\n  The minstrel daughters of the skies\nLooked on her woe with pitying eyes,\nAnd sun-bright children of the Gods(835)\nConsoled the queen with smiles and nods.\nShe saw, and with her heart at ease,\nAddressed the fiend in words like these;\n\u201cHast thou no friend to love thee, none\nIn all this isle to bid thee shun\nThe ruin which thy crime will bring\nOn thee and thine, O impious King?\nWho in all worlds save thee could woo\nMe, R\u00e1ma\u2019s consort pure and true,\nAs though he tempted with his love\nQueen \u015aach\u00ed(836) on her throne above?\nHow canst thou hope, vile wretch, to fly\nThe vengeance that e\u2019en now is nigh,\nWhen thou hast dared, untouched by shame,\nTo press thy suit on R\u00e1ma\u2019s dame?\nWhere woods are thick and grass is high\nA lion and a hare may lie;\nMy R\u00e1ma is the lion, thou\nArt the poor hare beneath the bough.\nThou railest at the lord of men,\nBut wilt not stand within his ken.\nWhat! is that eye unstricken yet\nWhose impious glance on me was set?\nStill moves that tongue that would not spare\nThe wife of Da\u015baratha\u2019s heir?\u201d\n\n  Then, hissing like a furious snake,\nThe fiend again to S\u00edt\u00e1 spake:\n\u201cDeaf to all prayers and threats art thou,\nDevoted to thy senseless vow.\nNo longer respite will I give,\nAnd thou this day shalt cease to live;\nFor I, as sunlight kills the morn,\nWill slay thee for thy scathe and scorn.\u201d\n\n  The R\u00e1kshas guard was summoned: all\nThe monstrous crew obeyed the call,\nAnd hastened to the king to take\nThe orders which he fiercely spake:\n\u201cSee that ye guard her well, and tame,\nLike some wild thing, the stubborn dame,\nUntil her haughty soul be bent\nBy mingled threat and blandishment.\u201d(837)\n\n  The monsters heard: away he strode,\nAnd passed within his queens\u2019 abode.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIII. The Demons\u2019 Threats.\n\n\nThen round the helpless S\u00edt\u00e1 drew\nWith fiery eyes the hideous crew,\nAnd thus assailed her, all and each,\nWith insult, taunt, and threatening speech:\n\u201cWhat! can it be thou prizest not\nThis happy chance, this glorious lot,\nTo be the chosen wife of one\nSo strong and great, Pulastya\u2019s son?\nPulastya\u2014thus have sages told\u2014\nIs mid the Lords of Life(838) enrolled.\nLord Brahm\u00e1\u2019s mind-born son was he,\nFourth of that glorious company.\nVi\u015bravas from Pulastya sprang,\u2014\nThrough all the worlds his glory rang.\nAnd of Vi\u015bravas, large-eyed dame!\nOur king the mighty R\u00e1va\u1e47 came.\nHis happy consort thou mayst be:\nScorn not the words we say to thee.\u201d\n\n  One awful demon, fiery-eyed,\nStood by the Maithil queen and cried:\n\u2019Come and be his, if thou art wise,\nWho smote the sovereign of the skies,\nAnd made the thirty Gods and three,(839)\nO\u2019ercome in furious battle, flee.\nThy lover turns away with scorn\nFrom wives whom grace and youth adorn.\nThou art his chosen consort, thou\nShall be his pride and darling now.\u201d\n\n  Another, Vikat\u00e1 by name,\nIn words like these addressed the dame:\n\u201cThe king whose blows, in fury dealt,\nThe N\u00e1gas(840) and Gandharvas(841) felt,\nIn battle\u2019s fiercest brunt subdued,\nHas stood by thee and humbly wooed.\nAnd wilt thou in thy folly miss\nThe glory of a love like this?\nScared by his eye the sun grows chill,\nThe wanderer wind is hushed and still.\nThe rains at his command descend,\nAnd trees with new-blown blossoms bend.\nHis word the hosts of demons fear,\nAnd wilt thou, dame, refuse to hear?\nBe counselled; with his will comply,\nOr, lady, thou shalt surely die.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIV. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Reply.\n\n\nStill with reproaches rough and rude\nThose fiends the gentle queen pursued:\n\u201cWhat! can so fair a life displease,\nTo dwell with him in joyous ease?\nDwell in his bowers a happy queen\nIn silk and gold and jewels\u2019 sheen?\nStill must thy woman fancy cling\nTo R\u00e1ma and reject our king?\nDie in thy folly, or forget\nThat wretched wandering anchoret.\nCome, S\u00edt\u00e1, in luxurious bowers\nSpend with our lord thy happy hours;\nThe mighty lord who makes his own\nThe treasures of the worlds o\u2019erthrown.\u201d\n\n  Then, as a tear bedewed her eye,\nThe hapless lady made reply:\n\u201cI loathe, with heart and soul detest\nThe shameful life your words suggest.\nEat, if you will, this mortal frame:\nMy soul rejects the sin and shame.\nA homeless wanderer though he be,\nIn him my lord, my life I see,\nAnd, till my earthly days be done,\nWill cling to great Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son.\u201d\n\n  Then with fierce eyes on S\u00edt\u00e1 set\nThey cried again with taunt and threat:\nEach licking with her fiery tongue\nThe lip that to her bosom hung,\nAnd menacing the lady\u2019s life\nWith axe, or spear or murderous knife:\n\u201cHear, S\u00edt\u00e1, and our words obey,\nOr perish by our hands to-day.\nThy love for Raghu\u2019s son forsake,\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 for thy husband take,\nOr we will rend thy limbs apart\nAnd banquet on thy quivering heart.\nNow from her body strike the head,\nAnd tell the king the dame is dead.\nThen by our lord\u2019s commandment she\nA banquet for our band shall be.\nCome, let the wine be quickly brought\nThat frees each heart from saddening thought.\nThen to the western gate repair,\nAnd we will dance and revel there.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXV. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nOn the bare earth the lady sank,\nAnd trembling from their presence shrank\nLike a strayed fawn, when night is dark,\nAnd hungry wolves around her bark.\nThen to a shady tree she crept,\nAnd thought upon her lord and wept.\nBy fear and bitter woe oppressed\nShe bathed the beauties of her breast\nWith her hot tears\u2019 incessant flow,\nAnd found no respite from her woe.\nAs shakes a plantain in the breeze\nShe shook, and fell on trembling knees;\nWhile at each demon\u2019s furious look\nHer cheek its native hue forsook.\nShe lay and wept and made her moan\nIn sorrow\u2019s saddest undertone,\nAnd, wild with grief, with fear appalled,\nOn R\u00e1ma and his brother called:\n\u201cO dear Kau\u015baly\u00e1,(842) hear me cry!\nSweet Queen Sumitr\u00e1,(843) list my sigh!\nTrue is the saw the wise declare:\nDeath comes not to relieve despair.\n\u2019Tis vain for dame or man to pray;\nDeath will not hear before his day;\nSince I, from R\u00e1ma\u2019s sight debarred,\nAnd tortured by my cruel guard,\nStill live in hopeless woe to grieve\nAnd loathe the life I may not leave,\nHere, like a poor deserted thing,\nMy limbs upon the ground I fling,\nAnd, like a bark beneath the blast,\nShall sink oppressed with woes at last.\nAh, blest are they, supremely blest,\nWhose eyes upon my lord may rest;\nWho mark his lion port, and hear\nHis gentle speech that charms the ear.\nAlas, what antenatal crime,\nWhat trespass of forgotten time\nWeighs on my soul, and bids me bow\nBeneath this load of misery now?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVI. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\n\u201cI R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife, on that sad day,\nBy R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s arm was borne away,\nSeized, while I sat and feared no ill,\nBy him who wears each form at will.\nA helpless captive, left forlorn\nTo demons\u2019 threats and taunts and scorn,\nHere for my lord I weep and sigh,\nAnd worn with woe would gladly die.\nFor what is life to me afar\nFrom R\u00e1ma of the mighty car?\nThe robber in his fruitless sin\nWould hope his captive\u2019s love to win.\nMy meaner foot shall never touch\nThe demon whom I loathe so much.\nThe senseless fool! he knows me not,\nNor the proud soul his love would blot.\nYea, limb from limb will I be rent,\nBut never to his prayer consent;\nBe burnt and perish in the fire,\nBut never meet his base desire.\nMy lord was grateful, true and wise,\nAnd looked on woe with pitying eyes;\nBut now, recoiling from the strife\nHe pities not his captive wife.\nAlone in Janasth\u00e1n he slew\nThe thousands of the R\u00e1kshas crew.\nHis arm was strong, his heart was brave,\nWhy comes he not to free and save?\nWhy blame my lord in vain surmise?\nHe knows not where his lady lies.\nO, if he knew, o\u2019er land and sea\nHis feet were swift to set me free;\nThis Lank\u00e1, girdled by the deep,\nWould fall consumed, a shapeless heap,\nAnd from each ruined home would rise\nA R\u00e1kshas widow\u2019s groans and cries.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVII. Trijat\u00e1\u2019s Dream.\n\n\nTheir threats unfeared, their counsel spurned,\nThe demons\u2019 breasts with fury burned.\nSome sought the giant king to bear\nThe tale of S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s fixt despair.\nWith threats and taunts renewed the rest\nAround the weeping lady pressed.\nBut Trija\u1e6d\u00e1, of softer mould,\nA R\u00e1kshas matron wise and old,\nWith pity for the captive moved,\nIn words like these the fiends reproved:\n\u201cMe, me,\u201d she cried, \u201ceat me, but spare\nThe spouse of Da\u015baratha\u2019s heir.\nLast night I dreamt a dream; and still\nThe fear and awe my bosom chill;\nFor in that dream I saw foreshown\nOur race by R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand o\u2019erthrown.\nI saw a chariot high in air,\nOf ivory exceeding fair.\nA hundred steeds that chariot drew\nAs swiftly through the clouds it flew,\nAnd, clothed in white, with wreaths that shone,\nThe sons of Raghu rode thereon.\nI looked and saw this lady here,\nClad in the purest white, appear\nHigh on the snow white hill whose feet\nThe angry waves of ocean beat.\nAnd she and R\u00e1ma met at last\nLike light and sun when night is past.\nAgain I saw them side by side.\nOn R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s car they seemed to ride,\nAnd with the princely Lakshma\u1e47 flee\nTo northern realms beyond the sea.\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47, shaved and shorn, besmeared\nWith oil from head to foot, appeared.\nHe quaffed, he raved: his robes were red:\nFierce was his eye, and bare his head.\nI saw him from his chariot thrust;\nI saw him rolling in the dust.\nA woman came and dragged away\nThe stricken giant where he lay,\nAnd on a car which asses drew\nThe monarch of our race she threw.\nHe rose erect, he danced and laughed,\nWith thirsty lips the oil he quaffed,\nThen with wild eyes and streaming mouth\nSped on the chariot to the south.(844)\nThen, dropping oil from every limb,\nHis sons the princes followed him,\nAnd Kumbhakar\u1e47a,(845) shaved and shorn,\nWas southward on a camel borne.\nThen royal Lank\u00e1 reeled and fell\nWith gate and tower and citadel.\nThis ancient city, far-renowned:\nAll life within her walls was drowned;\nAnd the wild waves of ocean rolled\nO\u2019er Lank\u00e1 and her streets of gold.\nWarned by these signs I bid you fly;\nOr by the hand of R\u00e1ma die,\nWhose vengeance will not spare the life\nOf one who vexed his faithful wife.\nYour bitter taunts and threats forgo:\nComfort the lady in her woe,\nAnd humbly pray her to forgive;\nFor so you may be spared and live.\u201d\n\n[I omit the 28th and 29th Cantos as an unmistakeable interpolation.\nInstead of advancing the story it goes back to Canto XVII, containing a\nlamentation of S\u00edt\u00e1 after R\u00e1va\u1e47 has left her, and describes the the\nauspicious signs sent to cheer her, the throbbing of her left eye, arm,\nand side. The Canto is found in the Bengal recension. Gorresio translates\nit. and observes: \u201cI think that Chapter XXVIII.\u2014The Auspicious Signs\u2014is an\naddition, a later interpolation by the Rhapsodists. It has no bond of\nconnexion either with what precedes or follows it, and may be struck out\nnot only without injury to, but positively to the advantage of the poem.\nThe metre in which this chapter is written differs from that which is\ngenerally adopted in the course of the poem.\u201d]\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXX. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Deliberation.\n\n\nThe V\u00e1nar watched concealed: each word\nOf S\u00edt\u00e1 and the fiends he heard,\nAnd in a maze of anxious thought\nHis quick-conceiving bosom wrought.\n\u201cAt length my watchful eyes have seen,\nPursued so long, the Maithil queen,\nSought by our V\u00e1nar hosts in vain\nFrom east to west, from main to main.\nA cautious spy have I explored\nThe palace of the R\u00e1khshas lord,\nAnd thoroughly learned, concealed from sight,\nThe giant monarch\u2019s power and might.\nAnd now my task must be to cheer\nThe royal dame who sorrows here.\nFor if I go, and soothe her not,\nA captive in this distant spot,\nShe, when she finds no comfort nigh,\nWill sink beneath her woes and die.\nHow shall my tale, if unconsoled\nI leave her, be to R\u00e1ma told?\nHow shall I answer Raghu\u2019s son,\n\u201cNo message from my darling, none?\u201d\nThe husband\u2019s wrath, to fury fanned,\nWill scorch me lifeless where I stand,\nOr if I urge my lord the king\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle his hosts to bring,\nIn vain will be his zeal, in vain\nThe toil, the danger, and the pain.\nYea, this occasion must I seize\nThat from her guard the lady frees,(846)\nTo win her ear with soft address\nAnd whisper hope in dire distress.\nShall I, a puny V\u00e1nar, choose\nThe Sanskrit men delight to use?\nIf, as a man of Br\u00e1hman kind,\nI speak the tongue by rules refined,\nThe lady, yielding to her fears,\nWill think \u2019tis R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s voice she hears.\nI must assume my only plan\u2014\nThe language of a common(847) man.\nYet, if the lady sees me nigh,\nIn terror she will start and cry;\nAnd all the demon band, alarmed,\nWill come with various weapons armed,\nWith their wild shouts the grove will fill,\nAnd strive to take me, or to kill.\nAnd, at my death or capture, dies\nThe hope of R\u00e1ma\u2018s enterprise.\nFor none can leap, save only me,\nA hundred leagues across the sea.\nIt is a sin in me, I own,\nTo talk with Janak\u2019s child alone.\nYet greater is the sin if I\nBe silent, and the lady die.\nFirst I will utter R\u00e1ma\u2019s name,\nAnd laud the hero\u2019s gifts and fame.\nPerchance the name she holds so dear\nWill soothe the faithful lady\u2019s fear.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXI. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThen in sweet accents low and mild\nThe V\u00e1nar spoke to Janak\u2019s child:\n\u201cA noble king, by sin unstained,\nThe mighty Da\u015baratha reigned.\nLord of the warrior\u2019s car and steed,\nThe pride of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s seed.\nA faithful friend, a blameless king,\nProtector of each living thing.\nA glorious monarch, strong to save,\nBlest with the bliss he freely gave.\nHis son, the best of all who know\nThe science of the bended bow,\nWas moon-bright R\u00e1ma, brave and strong,\nWho loved the right and loathed the wrong,\nWho ne\u2019er from kingly duty swerved,\nLoved by the lands his might preserved.\nHis feet the path of law pursued;\nHis arm rebellious foes subdued.\nHis sire\u2019s command the prince obeyed\nAnd, banished, sought the forest shade,\nWhere with his wife and brother he\nWandered a saintly devotee.\nThere as he roamed the wilds he slew\nThe bravest of the R\u00e1kshas crew.\nThe giant king the prince beguiled,\nAnd stole his consort, Janak\u2019s child.\nThen R\u00e1ma roamed the country round,\nAnd a firm friend, Sugr\u00edva, found,\nLord of the V\u00e1nar race, expelled\nFrom his own realm which B\u00e1li held,\nHe conquered B\u00e1li and restored\nThe kingdom to the rightful lord.\nThen by Sugr\u00edva\u2019s high decree\nThe V\u00e1nar legions searched for thee,\nSamp\u00e1ti\u2019s counsel bade me leap\nA hundred leagues across the deep.\nAnd now my happy eyes have seen\nAt last the long-sought Maithil queen.\nSuch was the form, the eye, the grace\nOf her whom R\u00e1ma bade me trace.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: her flowing locks she drew\nTo shield her from a stranger\u2019s view;\nThen, trembling in her wild surprise,\nRaised to the tree her anxious eyes.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Doubt.\n\n\nHer eyes the Maithil lady raised\nAnd on the monkey speaker gazed.\nShe looked, and trembling at the sight\nWept bitter tears in wild affright.\nShe shrank a while with fear distraught,\nThen, nerved again, the lady thought:\n\u201cIs this a dream mine eyes have seen,\nThis creature, by our laws unclean?\nO, may the Gods keep R\u00e1ma, still,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, and my sire, from ill!\nIt is no dream: I have not slept,\nBut, trouble-worn, have watched and wept\nAfar from that dear lord of mine\nFor whom in ceaseless woe I pine,\nNo art may soothe my wild distress\nOr lull me to forgetfulness.\nI see but him: my lips can frame\nNo syllable but R\u00e1ma\u2019s name.\nEach sight I see, each sound I hear,\nBrings R\u00e1ma to mine eye or ear,\nThe wish was in my heart, and hence\nThe sweet illusion mocked my sense.\n\u2019Twas but a phantom of the mind,\nAnd yet the voice was soft and kind.\nBe glory to the Eternal Sire,(848)\nBe glory to the Lord of Fire,\nThe mighty Teacher in the skies,(849)\nAnd Indra with his thousand eyes,\nAnd may they grant the truth to be\nE\u2019en as the words that startled me.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIII. The Colloquy.\n\n\nDown from the tree Hanum\u00e1n came\nAnd humbly stood before the dame.\nThen joining reverent palm to palm\nAddressed her thus with words of balm:\n\u201cWhy should the tears of sorrow rise,\nSweet lady, to those lovely eyes,\nAs when the wind-swept river floods\nTwo half expanded lotus buds?\nWho art thou, O most fair of face?\nOf Asur,(850) or celestial race?\nDid N\u00e1ga mother give thee birth?\nFor sure thou art no child of earth.\nDo Rudras(851) claim that heavenly form?\nOr the swift Gods(852) who ride the storm?\nOr art thou Rohi\u1e47\u00ed(853) the blest,\nThat star more lovely than the rest,\u2014\nReft from the Moon thou lovest well\nAnd doomed a while on earth to dwell?\nOr canst thou, fairest wonder, be\nThe starry queen Arundhat\u00ed,(854)\nFled in thy wrath or jealous pride\nFrom her dear lord Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s side?\nWho is the husband, father, son\nOr brother, O thou loveliest one,\nGone from this world in heaven to dwell,\nFor whom those eyes with weeping swell?\nYet, by the tears those sweet eyes shed,\nYet, by the earth that bears thy tread,(855)\nBy calling on a monarch\u2019s name,\nNo Goddess but a royal dame.\nArt thou the queen, fair lady, say,\nWhom R\u00e1va\u1e47 stole and bore away?\nYea, by that agony of woe,\nThat form unrivalled here below,\nThat votive garb, thou art, I ween,\nKing Janak\u2019s child and R\u00e1ma\u2019s queen.\u201d\n\n  Hope at the name of R\u00e1ma woke,\nAnd thus the gentle lady spoke:\n\u201cI am that S\u00edt\u00e1 wooed and won\nBy Da\u015baratha\u2019s royal son,\nThe noblest of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line;\nAnd every earthly joy was mine.\nBut R\u00e1ma left his royal home\nIn Da\u1e47\u1e0dak\u2019s tangled wilds to roam.\nWhere with Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son and me,\nHe lived a saintly devotee.\nThe giant R\u00e1va\u1e47 came with guile\nAnd bore me thence to Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle.\nSome respite yet the fiend allows,\nTwo months of life, to R\u00e1ma\u2019s spouse.\nTwo moons of hopeless woe remain,\nAnd then the captive will be slain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIV. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThus spoke the dame in mournful mood,\nAnd Hanum\u00e1n his speech renewed:\n\u201cO lady, by thy lord\u2019s decree\nI come a messenger to thee.\nThy lord is safe with steadfast friends,\nAnd greeting to his queen he sends,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, ever faithful bows\nHis reverent head to R\u00e1ma\u2019s spouse.\u201d\n\n  Through all her frame the rapture ran,\nAs thus again the dame began:\n\u201cNow verily the truth I know\nOf the wise saw of long ago:\n\u201cOnce only in a hundred years\nTrue joy to living man appears.\u201d\n\n  He marked her rapture-beaming hue,\nAnd nearer to the lady drew,\nBut at each onward step he took\nSuspicious fear her spirit shook.\n\u201cAlas, Alas,\u201d she cried in fear.\n\u201cFalse is the tale I joyed to hear.\n\u2019Tis R\u00e1va\u1e47, \u2019tis the fiend, who tries\nTo mock me with a new disguise.\nIf thou, to wring my woman\u2019s heart,\nHast changed thy shape by magic art,\nAnd wouldst a helpless dame beguile,\nThe wicked deed is doubly vile.\nBut no: that fiend thou canst not be:\nSuch joy I had from seeing thee.\nBut if my fancy does not err,\nAnd thou art R\u00e1ma\u2019s messenger,\nThe glories of my lord repeat:\nFor to these ears such words are sweet.\u201d\n\n  The V\u00e1nar knew the lady\u2019s thought,(856)\nAnd gave the answer fondly sought:\n\u201cBright as the sun that lights the sky\nDear as the Moon to every eye.\nHe scatters blessings o\u2019er the land\nLike bounties from Vai\u015brava\u1e47\u2019s(857) hand.\nLike Vish\u1e47u strong and unsubdued,\nUnmatched in might and fortitude.\nWise, truthful as the Lord of Speech,\nWith gentle words he welcomes each.\nOf noblest mould and form is he,\nLike love\u2019s incarnate deity.\nHe quells the fury of the foe,\nAnd strikes when justice prompts the blow.\nSafe in the shadow of his arm\nThe world is kept from scathe and harm.\nNow soon shall R\u00e1va\u1e47 rue his theft,\nAnd fall, of realm and life bereft.\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s wrathful hand shall wing\nHis shafts against the giant king.\nThe day, O Maithil Queen, is near\nWhen he and Lakshma\u1e47 will be here,\nAnd by their side Sugr\u00edva lead\nHis countless hosts of V\u00e1nar breed.\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s servant, I, by name\nHanum\u00e1n, by his order came.\nWith desperate leap I crossed the sea\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle in search of thee,\nNo traitor, gentle dame, am I:\nUpon my word and faith rely.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXV. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nWith joyous heart she heard him tell\nOf the great lord she loved so well,\nAnd in sweet accents, soft and low,\nSpoke, half forgetful of her woe:\n\u201cHow didst thou stand by R\u00e1ma\u2019s side?\nHow came my lord and thou allied?\nHow met the people of the wood\nWith men on terms of brotherhood?\nDeclare each grace and regal sign\nThat decks the lords of Raghu\u2019s line.\nEach circumstance and look relate:\nTell R\u00e1ma\u2019s form and speech, and gait.\u201d\n\n  \u201cThy fear and doubt,\u201d he cried, \u201cdispelled,\nHear, lady, what mine eyes beheld.\nHear the imperial signs that grace\nThe glory of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s race.\nWith moon-bright face and lotus eyes,\nMost beautiful and good and wise,\nWith sun-like glory round his head,\nLong-suffering as the earth we tread,\nHe from all foes his realm defends.\nYea, o\u2019er the world his care extends.\nHe follows right in all his ways,\nAnd ne\u2019er from royal duty strays.\nHe knows the lore that strengthens kings;\nHis heart to truth and honour clings.\nEach grace and gift of form and mind\nAdorns that prince of human kind;\nAnd virtues like his own endue\nHis brother ever firm and true.\nO\u2019er all the land they roamed distraught,\nAnd thee with vain endeavour sought,\nUntil at length their wandering feet\nTrod wearily our wild retreat.\nOur banished king Sugr\u00edva spied\nThe princes from the mountain side.\nBy his command I sought the pair\nAnd led them to our monarch there.\nThus R\u00e1ma and Sugr\u00edva met,\nAnd joined the bonds that knit them yet,\nWhen each besought the other\u2019s aid,\nAnd friendship and alliance made.\nAn arrow launched from R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow\nLaid B\u00e1li dead, Sugr\u00edva\u2019s foe.\nThen by commandment of our lord\nThe V\u00e1nar hosts each land explored.\nWe reached the coast: I crossed the sea\nAnd found my way at length to thee.\u201d(858)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Ring.\n\n\n\u201cReceive,\u201d he cried, \u201cthis precious ring,(859)\nSure token from thy lord the king:\nThe golden ring he wont to wear:\nSee, R\u00e1ma\u2019s name engraven there.\u201d\nThen, as she took the ring he showed,\nThe tears that spring of rapture flowed.\nShe seemed to touch the hand that sent\nThe dearly valued ornament,\nAnd with her heart again at ease,\nReplied in gentle words like these:\n\u201cO thou, whose soul no fears deter,\nWise, brave, and faithful messenger!\nAnd hast thou dared, o\u2019er wave and foam,\nTo seek me in the giants\u2019 home?\nIn thee, true messenger, I find\nThe noblest of thy woodland kind.\nWho couldst, unmoved by terror, brook\nOn R\u00e1va\u1e47, king of fiends, to look.\nNow may we commune here as friends,\nFor he whom royal R\u00e1ma sends\nMust needs be one in danger tried,\nA valiant, wise, and faithful guide.\nSay, is it well with R\u00e1ma still?\nLives Lakshma\u1e47 yet untouched by ill?\nThen why should R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand be slow\nTo free his consort from her woe?\nWhy spare to burn, in search of me,\nThe land encircled by the sea?\nCan Bharat send no army out\nWith banners, cars and battle shout?\nCannot thy king Sugr\u00edva lend\nHis legions to assist his friend?\u201d\n\n  His hands upon his head he laid\nAnd thus again his answer made:\n\u201cNot yet has R\u00e1ma learnt where lies\nHis lady of the lotus eyes,\nOr he like Indra from the sky\nTo \u015aach\u00ed\u2019s(860) aid, to thee would fly.\nSoon will he hear the tale, and then,\nRoused to revenge, the lord of men\nWill to the giants\u2019 island lead\nFierce myriads of the woodland breed,\nBridging his conquering way, and make\nThe town a ruin for thy sake.\nBelieve my words, sweet dame; I swear\nBy roots and fruit, my woodland fare,\nBy Meru\u2019s peak and Vindhva\u2019s chain,\nAnd Mandar of the Milky Main,\nSoon shalt thou see thy lord, though now\nHe waits upon Pra\u015brava\u1e47\u2019s(861) brow,\nCome glorious as the breaking morn,\nLike Indra on Air\u00e1vat(862) borne.\nFor thee he looks with longing eyes;\nThe wood his scanty food supplies.\nFor thee his brow is pale and worn,\nFor thee are meat and wine forsworn.\nThine image in his heart he keeps,\nFor thee by night he wakes and weeps.\nOr if perchance his eyes he close\nAnd win brief respite from his woes,\nE\u2019en then the name of S\u00edt\u00e1 slips\nIn anguish from his murmuring lips.\nIf lovely flowers or fruit he sees,\nWhich women love, upon the trees,\nTo thee, to thee his fancy flies.\nAnd \u2018S\u00edt\u00e1! O my love!\u2019 he cries.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Speech.\n\n\n\u201cThou bringest me,\u201d she cried again,\n\u201cA mingled draught of bliss and pain:\nBliss, that he wears me in his heart,\nPain, that he wakes and weeps apart,\nO, see how Fate is king of all,\nNow lifts us high, now bids us fall,\nAnd leads a captive bound with cord\nThe meanest slave, the proudest lord,\nThus even now Fate\u2019s stern decree\nHas struck with grief my lord and me.\nSay, how shall R\u00e1ma reach the shore\nOf sorrow\u2019s waves that rise and roar,\nA shipwrecked sailor, well nigh drowned\nIn the wild sea that foams around?\nWhen will he smite the demon down,\nLay low in dust the giants\u2019 town,\nAnd, glorious from his foes\u2019 defeat,\nHis wife, his long-lost S\u00edt\u00e1, meet?\nGo, bid him speed to smite his foes\nBefore the year shall reach its close.\nTen months are fled but two remain,\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s captive must be slain.\nOft has Vibhisha\u1e47,(863) just and wise,\nBesought him to restore his prize.\nBut deaf is R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s senseless ear:\nHis brother\u2019s rede he will not hear.\nVibhisha\u1e47\u2019s daughter(864) loves me well:\nFrom her I learnt the tale I tell.\nAvindhva(865) prudent, just, and old,\nThe giant\u2019s fall has oft foretold;\nBut Fate impels him to despise\nHis word on whom he most relies.\nIn R\u00e1ma\u2019s love I rest secure,\nFor my fond heart is true and pure,\nAnd him, my noblest lord, I deem\nIn valour, power, and might supreme.\u201d\n\n  As from her eyes the waters ran,\nThe V\u00e1nar chief again began:\n\u201cYea, R\u00e1ma, when he hears my tale,\nWill with our hosts these walls assail.\nOr I myself, O Queen, this day\nWill bear thee from the fiend away,\nWill lift thee up, and take thee hence\nTo him thy refuge and defence;\nWill take thee in my arms, and flee\nTo R\u00e1ma far beyond the sea;\nWill place thee on Pra\u015brava\u1e47 hill\nWhere Raghu\u2019s son is waiting still.\u201d\n\u201cHow canst thou bear me hence?\u201d she cried,\n\u201cThe way is long, the sea is wide.\nTo bear my very weight would be\nA task too hard for one like thee.\u201d(866)\n\n  Swift rose before her startled eyes\nThe V\u00e1nar in his native size,\nLike Mandar\u2019s hill or Meru\u2019s height,\nEncircled with a blaze of light.\n\u201cO come,\u201d he cried, \u201cthy fears dispel,\nNor doubt that I will bear thee well.\nCome, in my strength and care confide,\nAnd sit in joy by R\u00e1ma\u2019s side.\u201d\n\n  Again she spake: \u201cI know thee now,\nBrave, resolute, and strong art thou;\nIn glory like the Lord of Fire\nWith storm-swift feet which naught may tire\nBut yet with thee I may not fly:\nFor, borne so swiftly through the sky,\nMine eyes would soon grow faint and dim,\nMy dizzy brain would reel and swim,\nMy yielding arms relax their hold,\nAnd I in terror uncontrolled\nShould fall into the raging sea\nWhere hungry sharks would feed on me.\nNor can I touch, of free accord,\nThe limbs of any save my lord.\nIf, by the giant forced away,\nIn his enfolding arms I lay,\nNot mine, O V\u00e1nar, was the blame;\nWhat could I do, a helpless dame?\nGo, to my lord my message bear,\nAnd bid him end my long despair.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVIII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Gem.\n\n\nAgain the V\u00e1nar chief replied,\nWith her wise answer satisfied:\n\u201cWell hast thou said: thou canst not brave\nThe rushing wind, the roaring wave.\nThy woman\u2019s heart would sink with fear\nBefore the ocean shore were near.\nAnd for thy dread lest limb of thine\nShould for a while be touched by mine,\nThe modest fear is worthy one\nWhose cherished lord is Raghu\u2019s son.\nYet when I sought to bear thee hence\nI spoke the words of innocence,\nImpelled to set the captive free\nBy friendship for thy lord and thee.\nBut if with me thou wilt not try\nThe passage of the windy sky,\nGive me a gem that I may show,\nSome token which thy lord may know.\u201d\n\n  Again the Maithil lady spoke,\nWhile tears and sobs her utterance broke:\n\u201cThe surest of all signs is this,\nTo tell the tale of vanished bliss.\nThus in my name to R\u00e1ma speak:\n\u201cRemember Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s peak\nAnd the green margin of the rill(867)\nThat flows beside that pleasant hill,\nWhere thou and I together strayed\nDelighting in the tangled shade.\nThere on the grass I sat with thee\nAnd laid my head upon thy knee.\nThere came a greedy crow and pecked\nThe meat I waited to protect\nAnd, heedless of the clods I threw,\nAbout my head in circles flew,\nUntil by darling hunger pressed\nHe boldly pecked me on the breast.\nI ran to thee in rage and grief\nAnd prayed for vengeance on the thief.\nThen R\u00e1ma(868) from his slumber rose\nAnd smiled with pity at my woes.\nUpon my bleeding breast he saw\nThe scratches made by beak and claw.\nHe laid an arrow on his bow,\nAnd launched it at the shameless crow.\nThat shaft, with magic power endued,\nThe bird, where\u2019er he flew, pursued,\nTill back to Raghu\u2019s son he fled\nAnd bent at R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet his head.(869)\nCouldst thou for me with anger stirred\nLaunch that dire shaft upon a bird,\nAnd yet canst pardon him who stole\nThe darling of thy heart and soul?\nRise up, O bravest of the brave,\nAnd come in all thy might to save.\nCome with the thunders of thy bow,\nAnd smite to earth the R\u00e1kshas foe.\u201d\n\n  She ceased; and from her glorious hair\nShe took a gem that sparkled there\nA token which her husband\u2019s eyes\nWith eager love would recognize.\nHis head the V\u00e1nar envoy bent\nIn low obeisance reverent.\nAnd on his finger bound the gem\nShe loosened from her diadem.\n\n[I omit two Cantos of dialogue. S\u00edt\u00e1 tells Hanum\u00e1n again to convey her\nmessage to R\u00e1ma and bid him hasten to rescue her. Hanum\u00e1n replies as\nbefore that there is no one on earth equal to R\u00e1ma, who will soon come and\ndestroy R\u00e1va\u1e47. There is not a new idea in the two Cantos: all is\nreiteration.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLI. The Ruin Of The Grove.\n\n\nDismissed with every honour due\nThe V\u00e1nar from the spot withdrew.\nThen joyous thought the Wind-God\u2019s son:\n\u201cThe mighty task is wellnigh done.\nThe three expedients I must leave;\nThe fourth alone can I achieve.(870)\nThese dwellers in the giants\u2019 isle\nNo arts of mine can reconcile.\nI cannot bribe: I cannot sow\nDissension mid the R\u00e1kshas foe.\nArts, gifts, address, these fiends despise;\nBut force shall yet their king chastise.\nPerchance he may relent when all\nThe bravest of his chieftains fall.\nThis lovely grove will I destroy,\nThe cruel R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s pride and joy.\nThe garden where he takes his ease\nMid climbing plants and flowery trees\nThat lift their proud tops to the skies,\nDear to the tyrant as his eyes.\nThen will he rouse in wrath, and lead\nHis legions with the car and steed\nAnd elephants in long array,\nAnd seek me thirsty for the fray.\nThe R\u00e1kshas legions will I meet,\nAnd all his bravest host defeat;\nThen, glorious from the bloody plain,\nTurn to my lord the king again.\u201d\n\n  Then every lovely tree that bore\nFair blossoms, from the soil he tore,\nTill each green bough that lent its shade\nTo singing birds on earth was laid.\nThe wilderness he left a waste,\nThe fountains shattered and defaced:\nO\u2019erthrew and levelled with the ground\nEach shady seat and pleasure-mound.\nEach arbour clad with climbing bloom,\nEach grotto, cell, and picture room,\nEach lawn by beast and bird enjoyed,\nEach walk and terrace was destroyed.\nAnd all the place that was so fair\nWas left a ruin wild and bare,\nAs if the fury of the blast\nOr raging fire had o\u2019er it passed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLII. The Giants Roused.\n\n\nThe cries of startled birds, the sound\nOf tall trees crashing to the ground,\nStruck with amaze each giant\u2019s ear,\nAnd filled the isle with sudden fear.\nThen, wakened by the crash and cries,\nThe fierce shefiends unclosed their eyes,\nAnd saw the V\u00e1nar where he stood\nAmid the devastated wood.\nThe more to scare them with the view\nTo size immense the V\u00e1nar grew;\nAnd straight the R\u00e1kshas warders cried\nJanak\u2019s daughter terrified\n\u201cWhose envoy, whence, and who is he,\nWhy has he come to talk with thee?\nSpeak, lady of the lovely eyes,\nAnd let not fear thy joy disguise.\u201d\n\n  Then thus replied the Maithil dame\nOf noble soul and perfect frame.\n\u201cCan I discern, with scanty skill,\nThese fiends who change their forms at will?\n\u2019Tis yours to say: your kin you meet;\nA serpent knows a serpent\u2019s feet.\n\n  I weet not who he is: the sight\nHas filled my spirit with affright.\u201d\nSome pressed round S\u00edt\u00e1 in a ring;\nSome bore the story to their king:\n\u201cA mighty creature of our race,\nIn monkey form, has reached the place.\nHe came within the grove,\u201d they cried,\n\u201cHe stood and talked by S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s side,\nHe comes from Indra\u2019s court to her,\nOr is Kuvera\u2019s messenger;\nOr R\u00e1ma sent the spy to seek\nHis consort, and her wrongs to wreak.\nHis crushing arm, his trampling feet\nHave marred and spoiled that dear retreat,\nAnd all the pleasant place which thou\nSo lovest is a ruin now.\nThe tree where S\u00edt\u00e1 sat alone\nIs spared where all are overthrown.\nPerchance he saved the dame from harm:\nPerchance the toil had numbed his arm.\u201d\n\n  Then flashed the giant\u2019s eye with fire\nLike that which lights the funeral pyre.\nHe bade his bravest Kinkars(871) speed\nAnd to his feet the spoiler lead.\nForth from the palace, at his hest,\nTwice forty thousand warriors pressed.\nBurning for battle, strong and fierce,\nWith clubs to crush and swords to pierce,\nThey saw Han\u00fam\u00e1n near a porch,\nAnd, thick as moths around a torch,\nRushed on the foe with wild attacks\nOf mace and club and battle-axe.\nAs round him pressed the R\u00e1kshas crowd,\nThe wondrous monkey roared aloud,\nThat birds fell headlong from the sky:\nThen spake he with a mighty cry:\n\u201cLong life to Da\u015baratha\u2019s heir,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, ever-glorious pair!\nLong life to him who rules our race,\nPreserved by noblest R\u00e1ma\u2019s grace!\nI am the slave of Ko\u015bal\u2019s king,(872)\nWhose wondrous deeds the minstrels sing.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n I, the Wind-God\u2019s seed:\nBeneath this arm the foemen bleed.\nI fear not, unapproached in might,\nA thousand R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s ranged for fight,\nAlthough in furious hands they rear\nThe hill and tree for sword and spear,\nI will, before the giants\u2019 eyes,\nTheir city and their king chastise;\nAnd, having communed with the dame,\nDepart in triumph as I came.\u201d\n\n  At that terrific roar and yell\nThe heart of every giant fell.\nBut still their king\u2019s command they feared\nAnd pressed around with arms upreared.\nBeside the porch a club was laid:\nThe V\u00e1nar caught it up, and swayed\nThe weapon round his head, and slew\nThe foremost of the R\u00e1kshas crew.\nThus Indra vanquished, thousand-eyed,\nThe Daityas who the Gods defied.\nThen on the porch Han\u00fam\u00e1n sprang,\nAnd loud his shout of triumph rang.\nThe giants looked upon the dead,\nAnd turning to their monarch fled.\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 with his spirit wrought\nTo frenzy by the tale they brought,\nUrged to the fight Prahasta\u2019s son,\nOf all his chiefs the mightiest one.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIII. The Ruin Of The Temple.\n\n\nThe Wind-God\u2019s son a temple(873) scaled\nWhich, by his fury unassailed,\nHigh as the hill of Meru, stood\nAmid the ruins of the wood;\nAnd in his fury thundered out\nAgain his haughty battle-shout:\n\u201cI am the slave of Ko\u015bal\u2019s King\nWhose wondrous deeds the minstrels sing.\u201d\nForth hurried, by that shout alarmed,\nThe warders of the temple armed\nWith every weapon haste supplied,\nAnd closed him in on every side,\nWith bands that strove to pierce and strike\nWith shaft and axe and club and pike.\nThen from its base the V\u00e1nar tore\nA pillar with the weight it bore.\nAgainst the wall the mass he dashed,\nAnd forth the flames in answer flashed,\nThat wildly ran o\u2019er roofs and wall\nIn hungry rage consuming all.\nHe whirled the pillar round his head\nAnd struck a hundred giants dead.\nThen high upheld on air he rose\nAnd called in thunder to his foes:\n\u201cA thousand V\u00e1nar chiefs like me\nRoam at their will o\u2019er land and sea,\nTerrific might we all possess:\nOur stormy speed is limitless.\nAnd all, unconquered in the fray,\nOur king Sugr\u00edva\u2019s word obey.\nBacked by his bravest myriads, he\nOur warrior lord will cross the sea.\nThen Lank\u00e1\u2019s lofty towers, and all\nYour hosts and R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s self shall fall.\nNone shall be left unslaughtered; none\nWho braves the wrath of Raghu\u2019s son.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIV. Jambum\u00e1li\u2019s Death.\n\n\nThen Jambum\u00e1li, pride and boast\nFor valour of the R\u00e1kshas host,\nPrahasta\u2019s son supremely brave,\nObeyed the hest that R\u00e1va\u1e47 gave:\nFierce warrior with terrific teeth,\nWith saguine robes and brilliant wreath.\nA bow like Indra\u2019s own(874), and store\nOf glittering shafts the chieftain bore.\nAnd ever as the string he tried\nThe weapon with a roar replied,\nLoud as the crashing thunder sent\nBy him who rules the firmament.\nSoon as the foeman came in view\nBorne on a car which asses drew,\nThe V\u00e1nar chieftain mighty-voiced\nShouted in triumph and rejoiced.\nPrahasta\u2019s son his bow-string drew,\nAnd swift the winged arrows flew,\nOne in the face the V\u00e1nar smote,\nAnother quivered in his throat.\nTen from the deadly weapon sent\nHis brawny arms and shoulders rent.\nThen as he felt each galling shot\nThe V\u00e1nar\u2019s rage waxed fiercely hot.\nHe looked, and saw a mass of stone\nThat lay before his feet o\u2019erthrown.\nThe mighty block he raised and threw,\nAnd crashing through the air it flew.\nBut Jambum\u00e1li shunned the blow,\nAnd rained fresh arrows from his bow.\nThe V\u00e1nar\u2019s limbs were red with gore:\nA S\u00e1l tree from the earth he tore,\nAnd, ere he hurled it undismayed,\nAbove his head the missile swayed.\nBut shafts from Jambum\u00e1li\u2019s bow\nCut through it ere his hand could throw.\nAnd thigh and arm and chest and side\nWith streams of rushing blood were dyed.\nStill unsubdued though wounded oft\nThe shattered trunk he raised aloft,\nAnd down with well-directed aim\nOn Jambum\u00e1li\u2019s chest it came.\nThere crushed upon the trampled grass\nHe lay an undistinguished mass,\nThe foeman\u2019s eye no more could see\nHis head or chest or arm or knee.\nAnd bow and car and steeds(875) and store\nOf glittering shafts were seen no more.\n\n  When Jambum\u00e1li\u2019s death he heard,\nKing R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s heart with rage was stirred\nAnd forth his general\u2019s sons he sent,\nFor power and might preeminent.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLV. The Seven Defeated.\n\n\nForth went the seven in brave attire,\nIn glory brilliant as the fire,\nImpetuous chiefs with massive bows,\nThe quellers of a host of foes:\nTrained from their youth in martial lore,\nAnd masters of the arms they bore:\nEach emulous and fiercely bold,\nAnd banners wrought with glittering gold\nWaved o\u2019er their chariots, drawn at speed\nBy coursers of the noblest breed.\nOn through the ruins of the grove\nAt Hanum\u00e1n they fiercely drove,\nAnd from the ponderous bows they strained\nA shower of deadly arrows rained.\nThen scarce was seen the V\u00e1nar\u2019s form\nEnveloped in the arrowy storm.\nSo stands half veiled the Mountains\u2019 King\nWhen rainy clouds about him cling.\nBy nimble turn, by rapid bound\nHe shunned the shafts that rained around,\nEluding, as in air he rose,\nThe rushing chariots of his foes.\nThe mighty V\u00e1nar undismayed\nAmid his archer foemen played,\nAs plays the frolic wind on high\nMid bow-armed(876) clouds that fill the sky.\nHe raised a mighty roar and yell\nThat fear on all the army fell,\nAnd then, his warrior soul aglow\nWith fury, rushed upon the foe,\nSome with his open hand he beat\nTo death and trampled with his feet;\nSome with fierce nails he rent and slew,\nAnd others with his fists o\u2019erthrew;\nSome with his legs, as on he rushed,\nSome with his bulky chest he crushed;\nWhile some struck senseless by his roar\nDropped on the ground and breathed no more,\nThe remnant, seized with sudden dread,\nTurned from the grove and wildly fled.\nThe trampled earth was thickly strown\nWith steed and car and flag o\u2019erthrown,\nAnd the red blood in rivers flowed\nFrom slaughtered fiends o\u2019er path and road.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVI. The Captains.\n\n\nMad with the rage of injured pride\nKing R\u00e1va\u1e47 summoned to his side\nThe valiant five who led his host,\nSupreme in war and honoured most.\n\u201cGo forth,\u201d he cried, \u201cwith car and steed,\nAnd to my feet this monkey lead,\nBut watch each chance of time and place\nTo seize this thing of silvan race.\nFor from his wondrous exploits he\nNo monkey of the woods can be,\nBut some new kind of creature meant\nTo work us woe, by Indra sent.\nGandharvas, N\u00e1gas, and the best\nOf Yakshas have our might confessed.\nHave we not challenged and subdued\nThe whole celestial multitude?\nYet will you not, if you are wise,\nA chief of monkey race despise.\nFor I myself have B\u00e1li known,\nAnd King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s power I own.\nBut none of all their woodland throng\nWas half so terrible and strong.\u201d\n\n  Obedient to the words he spake\nThey hastened forth the foe to take.\nSwift were the cars whereon they rode,\nAnd bright their weapons flashed and glowed.\nThey saw: they charged in wild career\nWith sword and mace and axe and spear.\nFrom Durdhar\u2019s bow five arrows sped\nAnd quivered in the V\u00e1nar\u2019s head.\nHe rose and roared: the fearful sound\nMade all the region echo round.\nThen from above his weight he threw\nOn Durdhar\u2019s car that near him drew.\nThe weight that came with lightning speed\nCrushed pole and axle, car and steed.\nIt shattered Durdhar\u2019s head and neck,\nAnd left him lifeless mid the wreck.\nY\u00fap\u00e1ksha saw the warrior die,\nAnd Vir\u00fap\u00e1ksha heard his cry,\nAnd, mad for vengeance for the slain,\nThey charged their V\u00e1nar foe again.\nHe rose in air: they onward pressed\nAnd fiercely smote him on the breast.\nIn vain they struck his iron frame:\nWith eagle swoop to earth he came,\nTore from the ground a tree that grew\nBeside him, and the demons slew.\nThen Bh\u00e1sakama raised his spear,\nAnd Praghas with a laugh drew near,\nAnd, maddened at the sight, the two\nAgainst the undaunted V\u00e1nar flew.\nAs from his wounds the torrents flowed,\nLike a red sun the V\u00e1nar showed.\nHe turned, a mountain peak to seize\nWith all its beasts and snakes and trees.\nHe hurled it on the pair: and they\nCrushed, overwhelmed, beneath it lay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVII. The Death Of Aksha.\n\n\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47, as his fury burned,\nHis eyes on youthful Aksha(877) turned,\nWho rose impetuous at his glance\nAnd shouted for his bow and lance.\nHe rode upon a glorious car\nThat shot the light of gems afar.\nHis pennon waved mid glittering gold\nAnd bright the wheels with jewels rolled,\nBy long and fierce devotion won\nThat car was splendid as the sun.\nWith rows of various weapons stored;\nAnd thought-swift horses whirled their lord\nRacing along the earth, or rose\nHigh through the clouds whene\u2019er he chose.\nThen fierce and fearful war between\nThe V\u00e1nar and the fiend was seen.\nThe Gods and Asurs stood amazed,\nAnd on the wondrous combat gazed.\nA cry from earth rose long and shrill,\nThe wind was hushed, the sun grew chill.\nThe thunder bellowed from the sky,\nAnd troubled ocean roared reply.\nThrice Aksha strained his dreadful bow,\nThrice smote his arrow on the foe,\nAnd with full streams of crimson bled\nThree gashes in the V\u00e1nar\u2019s head.\nThen rose Han\u00fam\u00e1n in the air\nTo shun the shafts no life could bear.\nBut Aksha in his car pursued,\nAnd from on high the fight renewed\nWith storm of arrows, thick as hail\nWhen angry clouds some hill assail.\nImpatient of that arrowy shower\nThe V\u00e1nar chief put forth his power,\nAgain above his chariot rose\nAnd smote him with repeated blows.\nTerrific came each deadly stroke:\nBreast neck and arm and back he broke;\nAnd Aksha fell to earth, and lay\nWith all his life-blood drained away.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVIII. Hanum\u00e1n Captured.\n\n\nTo Indraj\u00edt(878) the bold and brave\nThe giant king his mandate gave:\n\u201cO trained in warlike science, best\nIn arms of all our mightiest,\nWhose valour in the conflict shown\nTo Asurs and to Gods is known,\nThe Kinkars whom I sent are slain,\nAnd Jambum\u00e1l\u00ed and his train;\nThe lords who led our giant bands\nHave fallen by the monkey\u2019s hands;\nWith shattered cars the ground is spread,\nAnd Aksha lies amid the dead.\nThou art my best and bravest: go,\nUnmatched in power, and slay the foe.\u201d\nHe heard the hest: he bent his head;\nAthirst for battle forth he sped.\nFour tigers fierce, of tawny hue,\nWith fearful teeth, his chariot drew.\n\n  Han\u00fam\u00e1n heard his strong bow clang,\nAnd swiftly from the earth he sprang,\nWhile weak and ineffective fell\nThe archer\u2019s shafts though pointed well.\nThe R\u00e1kshas saw that naught might kill\nThe wondrous foe who mocked his skill,\nAnd launched a magic shaft to throw\nA binding spell about his foe.\nForth flew the shaft: the mystic charm\nStayed his swift feet and numbed his arm,\nThrough all his frame he felt the spell,\nAnd motionless to earth he fell.\nNor would the reverent V\u00e1nar loose\nThe bonds that bound him as a noose.\nHe knew that Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self had charmed\nThe weapon that his might disarmed.\n\n  They saw him helpless on the ground,\nAnd all the giants pressed around,\nAnd bonds of hemp and bark were cast\nAbout his limbs to hold him fast.\nThey drew the ropes round feet and wrists;\nThey beat him with their hands and fists,\nAnd dragged him as they strained the cord\nWith shouts of triumph to their lord.(879)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIX. R\u00e1van.\n\n\nOn the fierce king Han\u00fam\u00e1n turned\nHis angry eyes that glowed and burned.\nHe saw him decked with wealth untold\nOf diamond and pearl and gold,\nAnd priceless was each wondrous gem\nThat sparkled in his diadem.\nAbout his neck rich chains were twined,\nThe best that fancy e\u2019er designed,\nAnd a fair robe with pearls bestrung\nDown from his mighty shoulders hung.\nTen heads he reared,(880) as Mandar\u2019s hill\nLifts woody peaks which tigers fill,\nBright were his eyes, and bright, beneath,\nThe flashes of his awful teeth.\nHis brawny arms of wondrous size\nWere decked with rings and scented dyes.\nHis hands like snakes with five long heads\nDescending from their mountain beds.\nHe sat upon a crystal throne\nInlaid with wealth of precious stone,\nWhereon, of noblest work, was set\nA gold-embroidered coverlet.\nBehind the monarch stood the best\nOf beauteous women gaily dressed,\nAnd each her giant master fanned,\nOr waved a chourie in her hand.\nFour noble courtiers(881) wise and good\nIn counsel, near the monarch stood,\nAs the four oceans ever stand\nAbout the sea-encompassed land.\nStill, though his heart with rage was fired,\nThe V\u00e1nar marvelled and admired:\n\u201cO what a rare and wondrous sight!\nWhat beauty, majesty, and might!\nAll regal pomp combines to grace\nThis ruler of the R\u00e1kshas race.\nHe, if he scorned not right and law,\nMight guide the world with tempered awe:\nYea, Indra and the Gods on high\nMight on his saving power rely.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto L. Prahasta\u2019s Questions.\n\n\nThen fierce the giant\u2019s fury blazed\nAs on Han\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s form he gazed,\nAnd shaken by each wild surmise\nHe spake aloud with flashing eyes:\n\u201cCan this be Nandi(882) standing here,\nThe mighty one whom all revere?\nWho once on high Kail\u00e1sa\u2019s hill\nPronounced the curse that haunts me still?\nOr is the woodland creature one\nOf Asur race, or Bali\u2019s(883) son?\nThe wretch with searching question try:\nLearn who he is, and whence; and why\nHe marred the glory of the grove,\nAnd with my captains fiercely strove.\u201d\nPrahasta heard his lord\u2019s behest,\nAnd thus the V\u00e1nar chief addressed:\n\u201cO monkey stranger be consoled:\nFear not, and let thy heart be bold.\nIf thou by Indra\u2019s mandate sent\nThy steps to Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle hast bent,\nWith fearless words the cause explain,\nAnd freedom thou shalt soon regain.\nOr if thou comest as a spy\nDespatched by Vish\u1e47u in the sky,\nOr sent by Y\u00e1ma, or the Lord\nOf Riches, hast our town explored;\nProved by the prowess thou hast shown\nNo monkey save in form alone;\nSpeak boldly all the truth, and be\nReleased from bonds, unharmed and free.\nBut falsehood spoken to our king\nSwift punishment of death will bring.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the V\u00e1nar made reply;\n\u201cNot Indra\u2019s messenger am I,\nNor came I hither to fulfil\nKuvera\u2019s hest or Vish\u1e47u\u2019s will.\nI stand before the giants here\nA V\u00e1nar e\u2019en as I appear.\nI longed to see the king: \u2019twas hard\nTo win my way through gate and guard.\nAnd so to gain my wish I laid\nIn ruin that delightful shade.\nNo fiend, no God of heavenly kind\nWith bond or chain these limbs may bind.\nThe Eternal Sire himself of old\nVouchsafed the boon that makes me bold,\nFrom Brahm\u00e1\u2019s magic shaft released(884)\nI knew the captor\u2019s power had ceased,\nThe fancied bonds I freely brooked,\nAnd thus upon the king have looked.\nMy way to Lank\u00e1 have I won,\nA messenger from Raghu\u2019s son.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LI. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Reply.\n\n\n\u201cMy king Sugr\u00edva greets thee fair,\nAnd bids me thus his rede declare.\nSon of the God of Wind, by name\nHanum\u00e1n, to this isle I came.\nTo set the Maithil lady free\nI crossed the barrier of the sea.\nI roamed in search of her and found\nHer weeping in that lovely ground.\nThou in the lore of duty trained,\nWho hast by stern devotion gained\nThis wondrous wealth and power and fame\nShouldst fear to wrong another\u2019s dame.\nHear thou my counsel, and be wise:\nNo fiend, no dweller in the skies\nCan bear the shafts by Lakshma\u1e47 shot,\nOr R\u00e1ma when his wrath is hot.\nO Giant King, repent the crime\nAnd soothe him while there yet is time.\nNow be the Maithil queen restored\nUninjured to her sorrowing lord.\nSoon wilt thou rue thy dire mistake:\nShe is no woman but a snake,\nWhose very deadly bite will be\nThe ruin of thy house and thee.\nThy pride has led thy thoughts astray,\nThat fancy not a hand may slay\nThe monarch of the giants, screened\nFrom mortal blow of God and fiend.\nSugr\u00edva still thy death may be:\nNo Yaksha, fiend, or God is he,\nAnd R\u00e1ma from a woman springs,\nThe mortal seed of mortal kings.\nO think how B\u00e1li fell subdued;\nThink on thy slaughtered multitude.\nRespect those brave and strong allies;\nConsult thy safety, and be wise.\nI, even I, no helper need\nTo overthrow, with car and steed,\nThy city Lank\u00e1 half divine:\nThe power but not the will is mine.\nFor Raghu\u2019s son, before his friend\nThe V\u00e1nar monarch, swore to end\nWith his own conquering arm the life\nOf him who stole his darling wife.\nTurn, and be wise, O R\u00e1va\u1e47 turn;\nOr thou wilt see thy Lank\u00e1 burn,\nAnd with thy wives, friends, kith and kin\nBe ruined for thy senseless sin.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LII. Vibhishan\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47 spake with flashing eye:\n\u201cHence with the V\u00e1nar: let him die.\u201d\nVibhisha\u1e47 heard the stern behest,\nAnd pondered in his troubled breast;\nThen, trained in arts that soothe and please\nAddressed the king in words like these:\n\n  \u201cRevoke, my lord, thy fierce decree,\nAnd hear the words I speak to thee.\nKings wise and noble ne\u2019er condemn\nTo death the envoys sent to them.\nSuch deed the world\u2019s contempt would draw\nOn him who breaks the ancient law.(885)\nObserve the mean where justice lies,\nAnd spare his life but still chastise.\u201d\nThen forth the tyrant\u2019s fury broke,\nAnd thus in angry words he spoke:\n\u201cO hero, when the wicked bleed\nNo sin or shame attends the deed.\nThe V\u00e1nar\u2019s blood must needs be spilt,\nThe penalty of heinous guilt.\u201d\n\n  Again Vibhisha\u1e47 made reply:\n\u201cNay, hear me, for he must not die.\nHear the great law the wise declare:\n\u201cThy foeman\u2019s envoy thou shalt spare.\u201d\n\u2019Tis true he comes an open foe:\n\u2019Tis true his hands have wrought us woe,\nBut law allows thee, if thou wilt,\nA punishment to suit the guilt.\nThe mark of shame, the scourge, the brand,\nThe shaven head, the wounded hand.\nYea, were the V\u00e1nar envoy slain,\nWhere, King of giants, were the gain?\nOn them alone, on them who sent\nThe message, be the punishment.\nFor spake he well or spake he ill,\nHe spake obedient to their will,\nAnd, if he perish, who can bear\nThy challenge to the royal pair?\nWho, cross the ocean and incite\nThy death-doomed enemies to fight?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIII. The Punishment.\n\n\nKing R\u00e1va\u1e47, by his pleading moved,\nThe counsel of the chief approved:\n\u201cThy words are wise and true: to kill\nAn envoy would beseem us ill.\nYet must we for his crime invent\nSome fitting mode of punishment.\nThe tail, I fancy, is the part\nMost cherished by a monkey\u2019s heart.\nMake ready: set his tail aflame,\nAnd let him leave us as he came,\nAnd thus disfigured and disgraced\nBack to his king and people haste.\u201d\n\n  The giants heard their monarch\u2019s speech;\nAnd, filled with burning fury, each\nBrought strips of cotton cloth, and round\nThe monkey\u2019s tail the bandage wound.\nAs round his tail the bands they drew\nHis mighty form dilating grew\nVast as the flame that bursts on high\nWhere trees are old and grass is dry.\nEach band and strip they soaked in oil,\nAnd set on fire the twisted coil.\nDelighted as they viewed the blaze,\nThe cruel demons stood at gaze:\nAnd mid loud drums and shells rang out\nThe triumph of their joyful shout.\nThey pressed about him thick and fast\nAs through the crowded streets he passed,\nObserving with attentive care\nEach rich and wondrous structure there,\nStill heedless of the eager cry\nThat rent the air, The spy! the spy!\n\n  Some to the captive lady ran,\nAnd thus in joyous words began:\n\u201cThat copper-visaged monkey, he\nWho in the garden talked with thee,\nThrough Lank\u00e1\u2019s town is led a show,\nAnd round his tail the red flames glow.\u201d\nThe mournful news the lady heard\nThat with fresh grief her bosom stirred.\nSwift to the kindled fire she went\nAnd prayed before it reverent:\n\u201cIf I my husband have obeyed,\nAnd kept the ascetic vows I made,\nFree, ever free, from stain and blot,\nO spare the V\u00e1nar; harm him not.\u201d\n\n  Then leapt on high the flickering flame\nAnd shone in answer to the dame.\nThe pitying fire its rage forbore:\nThe V\u00e1nar felt the heat no more.\nThen, to minutest size reduced,\nThe bonds that bound his limbs he loosed,\nAnd, freed from every band and chain,\nRose to his native size again.\nHe seized a club of ponderous weight\nThat lay before him by the gate,\nRushed at the fiends that hemmed him round,\nAnd laid them lifeless on the ground.\nThrough Lank\u00e1\u2019s town again he strode,\nAnd viewed each street and square and road,\u2014\nStill wreathed about with harmless blaze,\nA sun engarlanded with rays.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIV. The Burning Of Lank\u00e1.\n\n\n\u201cWhat further deed remains to do\nTo vex the R\u00e1kshas king anew?\nThe beauty of his grove is marred,\nKilled are the bravest of his guard.\nThe captains of his host are slain;\nBut forts and palaces remain,\nSwift is the work and light the toil\nEach fortress of the foe to spoil.\u201d\n\n  Reflecting thus, his tail ablaze\nAs through the cloud red lightning plays,\nHe scaled the palaces and spread\nThe conflagration where he sped.\nFrom house to house he hurried on,\nAnd the wild flames behind him shone.\nEach mansion of the foe he scaled,\nAnd furious fire its roof assailed\nTill all the common ruin shared:\nVibhisha\u1e47\u2019s house alone was spared.\nFrom blazing pile to pile he sprang,\nAnd loud his shout of triumph rang,\nAs roars the doomsday cloud when all\nThe worlds in dissolution fall.\nThe friendly wind conspired to fan\nThe hungry flames that leapt and ran,\nAnd spreading in their fury caught\nThe gilded walls with pearls inwrought,\nTill each proud palace reeled and fell\nAs falls a heavenly citadel.\n\n  Loud was the roar the demons raised\nMid walls that split and beams that blazed,\nAs each with vain endeavour strove\nTo stay the flames in house or grove.\nThe women, with dishevelled hair,\nFlocked to the roofs in wild despair,\nShrieked out for succour, wept aloud,\nAnd fell, like lightning from a cloud.\nHe saw the flames ascend and curl\nRound turkis, diamond, and pearl,\nWhile silver floods and molten gold\nFrom ruined wall and latice rolled.\nAs fire grows fiercer as he feeds\nOn wood and grass and crackling reeds,\nSo Han\u00fam\u00e1n the ruin eyed\nWith fury still unsatisfied.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LV. Fear For S\u00edt\u00e1.\n\n\nBut other thoughts resumed their sway\nWhen Lank\u00e1\u2019s town in ruin lay;\nAnd, as his bosom felt their weight\nHe stood a while to meditate.\n\u201cWhat have I done?\u201d, he thought with shame,\n\u201cDestroyed the town with hostile flame.\nO happy they whose firm control\nChecks the wild passion of the soul;\nWho on the fires of anger throw\nThe cooling drops that check their glow.\nBut woe is me, whom wrath could lead\nTo do this senseless shameless deed.\nThe town to fire and death I gave,\nNor thought of her I came to save,\u2014\nDoomed by my own rash folly, doomed\nTo perish in the flames consumed.\nIf I, when anger drove me wild,\nHave caused the death of Janak\u2019s child,\nThe kindled flame shall end my woe,\nOr the deep fires that burn below,(886)\nOr my forsaken corse shall be\nFood for the monsters of the sea.\nHow can I meet Sugr\u00edva? how\nBefore the royal brothers bow,\u2014\nI whose rash deed has madly foiled,\nThe noble work in which we toiled?\nOr has her own bright virtue shed\nIts guardian influence round her head?\nShe lives untouched,\u2014the peerless dame;\nFlame has no fury for the flame.(887)\nThe very fire would ne\u2019er consent\nTo harm a queen so excellent,\u2014\nThe high-souled R\u00e1ma\u2019s faithful wife,\nProtected by her holy life.\nShe lives, she lives. Why should I fear\nFor one whom Raghu\u2019s sons hold dear?\nHas not the pitying fire that spared\nThe V\u00e1nar for the lady cared?\u201d\n\n  Such were his thoughts: he pondered long,\nAnd fear grew faint and hope grew strong.\nThen round him heavenly voices rang,\nAnd, sweetly tuned, his praises sang:\n\u201cO glorious is the exploit done\nBy Hanum\u00e1n the Wind-God\u2019s son.\nThe flames o\u2019er Lank\u00e1\u2019s city rise:\nThe giants\u2019 home in ruin lies.\nO\u2019er roof and wall the fires have spread,\nNor harmed a hair of S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s head.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVI. Mount Arishta.\n\n\nHe looked upon the burning waste,\nThen sought the queen in joyous haste,\nWith words of hope consoled her heart,\nAnd made him ready to depart.\nHe scaled Arish\u1e6da\u2019s glorious steep\nWhose summits beetled o\u2019er the deep.\nThe woods in varied beauty dressed\nHung like a garland round his crest,\nAnd clouds of ever changing hue\nA robe about his shoulders threw.\nOn him the rays of morning fell\nTo wake the hill they loved so well,\nAnd bid unclose those splendid eyes\nThat glittered in his mineral dyes.\nHe woke to hear the music made\nBy thunders of the white cascade,\nWhile every laughing rill that sprang\nFrom crag to crag its carol sang.\nFor arms, he lifted to the stars\nHis towering stems of Deod\u00e1rs,\nAnd morning heard his pealing call\nIn tumbling brook and waterfall.\nHe trembled when his woods were pale\nAnd bowed beneath the autumn gale,\nAnd when his vocal reeds were stirred\nHis melancholy moan was heard.\n\n  Far down against the mountain\u2019s feet\nThe V\u00e1nar heard the wild waves beat;\nThen turned his glances to the north.\nSprang from the peak and bounded forth,\nThe mountain felt the fearful shock\nAnd trembled through his mass of rock.\nThe tallest trees were crushed and rent\nAnd headlong to the valley sent,\nAnd as the rocking shook each cave\nLoud was the roar the lions gave.\nForth from the shaken cavern came\nFierce serpents with their tongues aflame;\nAnd every Yaksha, wild with dread,\nAnd Kinnar and Gandharva, fled.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVII. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Return.\n\n\nStill, like a winged mountain, he\nSprang forward through the airy sea,(888)\nAnd rushing through the ether drew\nThe clouds to follow as he flew,\nThrough the great host around him spread,\nGrey, golden, dark, and white, and red.\nNow in a sable cloud immersed,\nNow from its gloomy pall he burst,\nLike the bright Lord of Stars concealed\nA moment, and again revealed.\nSun\u00e1bha(889) passed, he neared the coast\nWhere waited still the V\u00e1nar host.\nThey heard a rushing in the skies,\nAnd lifted up their wondering eyes.\nHis wild triumphant shout they knew\nThat louder still and louder grew,\nAnd J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n with eager voice\nCalled on the V\u00e1nars to rejoice:\n\u201cLook he returns, the Wind-God\u2019s son,\nAnd full success his toils have won;\nTriumphant is the shout that comes\nLike music of a thousand drums.\u201d\n\n  Up sprang the V\u00e1nars from the ground\nAnd listened to the wondrous sound\nOf hurtling arm and thigh as through\nThe region of the air he flew,\nLoud as the wind, when tempests rave,\nRoars in the prison of the cave.\nFrom crag to crag, from height to height;\nThey bounded in their mad delight,\nAnd when he touched the mountain\u2019s crest,\nWith reverent welcome round him pressed.\nThey brought him of their woodland fruits,\nThey brought him of the choicest roots,\nAnd laughed and shouted in their glee\nThe noblest of their chiefs to see.\nNor Hanum\u00e1n delayed to greet\nSage J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n with reverence meet;\nTo Angad and the chiefs he bent\nFor age and rank pre\u00ebminent,\nAnd briefly spoke: \u201cThese eyes have seen,\nThese lips addressed, the Maithil queen.\u201d\nThey sat beneath the waving trees,\nAnd Angad spoke in words like these:\n\u201cO noblest of the V\u00e1nar kind\nFor valour power and might combined,\nTo thee triumphant o\u2019er the foe\nOur hopes, our lives and all we owe.\nO faithful heart in perils tried,\nWhich toil nor fear could turn aside,\nThy deed the lady will restore,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s heart will ache no more.\u201d(890)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LVIII. The Feast Of Honey.\n\n\nThey rose in air: the region grew\nDark with their shadow as they flew.\nSwift to a lovely grove(891) they came\nThat rivalled heavenly Nandan\u2019s(892) fame;\nWhere countless bees their honey stored,\u2014\nThe pleasance of the V\u00e1nars\u2019 lord,\nTo every creature fenced and barred,\nWhich Dadhimukh was set to guard,\nA noble V\u00e1nar, brave and bold,\nSugr\u00edva\u2019s uncle lofty-souled.\nTo Angad came with one accord\nThe V\u00e1nars, and besought their lord\nThat they those honeyed stores might eat\nThat made the grove so passing sweet.\n\n  He gave consent: they sought the trees\nThronged with innumerable bees.\nThey rifled all the treasured store,\nAnd ate the fruit the branches bore,\nAnd still as they prolonged the feast\nTheir merriment and joy increased.\nDrunk with the sweets, they danced and bowed,\nThey wildly sang, they laughed aloud,\nSome climbed and sprang from tree to tree,\nSome sat and chattered in their glee.\nSome scaled the trees which creepers crowned,\nAnd rained the branches to the ground.\nThere with loud laugh a V\u00e1nar sprang\nClose to his friend who madly sang,\nIn doleful mood another crept\nTo mix his tears with one who wept.\n\n  Then Dadhimukh with fury viewed\nThe intoxicated multitude.\nHe looked upon the rifled shade,\nAnd all the ruin they had made;\nThen called with angry voice, and strove\nTo save the remnant of the grove.\nBut warning cries and words were spurned,\nAnd angry taunt and threat returned.\nThen fierce and wild contention rose:\nWith furious words he mingled blows.\nThey by no shame or fear withheld,\nBy drunken mood and ire impelled,\nUsed claws, and teeth, and hands, and beat\nThe keeper under trampling feet.\n\n[Three Cantos consisting of little but repetitions are omitted. Dadhimukh\nescapes from the infuriated monkeys and hastens to Sugr\u00edva to report their\nmisconduct. Sugr\u00edva infers that Hanum\u00e1n and his band have been successful\nin their search, and that the exuberance of spirits and the mischief\ncomplained of, are but the natural expression of their joy. Dadhimukh\nobtains little sympathy from Sugr\u00edva, and is told to return and send the\nmonkeys on with all possible speed.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXV. The Tidings.\n\n\nOn to Pra\u015brava\u1e47\u2019s hill they sped\nWhere blooming trees their branches spread.\nTo Raghu\u2019s sons their heads they bent\nAnd did obeisance reverent.\nThen to their king, by Angad led,\nEach V\u00e1nar chieftain bowed his head;\nAnd Hanum\u00e1n the brave and bold\nHis tidings to the monarch told;\nBut first in R\u00e1ma\u2019s hand he placed\nThe gem that S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s brow had graced:\n\u201cI crossed the sea: I searched a while\nFor S\u00edt\u00e1 in the giants\u2019 isle.\nI found her vext with taunt and threat\nBy demon guards about her set.\nHer tresses twined in single braid,\nOn the bare earth her limbs were laid.\nSad were her eyes: her cheeks were pale\nAs shuddering flowers in winter\u2019s gale.\nI stood beside the weeping dame,\nAnd gently whispered R\u00e1ma\u2019s name:\nWith cheering words her grief consoled,\nAnd then the whole adventure told.\nShe weeps afar beyond the sea,\nAnd her true heart is still with thee.\nShe gave a sign that thou wouldst know,\nShe bids thee think upon the crow,\nAnd bright mark pressed upon her brow\nWhen none was nigh but she and thou.\nShe bids thee take this precious stone,\nThe sea-born gem thou long hast known.\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d she said, \u201cwill dull the sting\nOf woe by gazing on the ring.\nOne little month shall I sustain\nThis life oppressed with woe and pain:\nAnd when the month is ended, I\nThe giants\u2019 prey must surely die.\u2019 \u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThere ceased the V\u00e1nar: R\u00e1ma pressed\nThe treasured jewel to his breast,\nAnd from his eyes the waters broke\nAs to the V\u00e1nar king he spoke:\n\u201cAs o\u2019er her babe the mother weeps,\nThis flood of tears the jewel steeps.\nThis gem that shone on S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s head\nWas Janak\u2019s gift when we were wed,\nAnd the pure brow that wore it lent\nNew splendour to the ornament.\nThis gem, bright offspring of the wave,\nThe King of Heaven to Janak gave,\nWhose noble sacrificial rite\nHad filled the God with new delight.\nNow, as I gaze upon the prize,\nMethinks I see my father\u2019s eyes.\nMethinks I see before me stand\nThe ruler of Videha\u2019s land.(893)\nMethinks mine arms are folded now\nRound her who wore it on her brow.\nSpeak, Hanum\u00e1n, O say, dear friend,\nWhat message did my darling send?\nO speak, and let thy words impart\nTheir gentle dew to cool my heart.\nAh, \u2019tis the crown of woe to see\nThis gem and ask \u201cWhere, where is she?\u201d\nIf for one month her heart be strong,\nHer days of life will yet be long.\nBut I, with naught to lend relief,\nThis very day must die of grief.\nCome, Hanum\u00e1n, and quickly guide\nThe mourner to his darling\u2019s side.\nO lead me\u2014thou hast learnt the way\u2014\nI cannot and I will not stay.\nHow can my gentle love endure,\nSo timid, delicate, and pure,\nThe dreadful demons fierce and vile\nWho watch her in the guarded isle?\nNo more the light of beauty shines\nFrom S\u00edt\u00e1 as she weeps and pines.\nBut pain and sorrow, cloud on cloud\nHer moonlight glory dim and shroud.\nO speak, dear Hanum\u00e1n, and tell\nEach word that from her sweet lips fell,\nHer words, her words alone can give\nThe healing balm to make me live.\u201d(894)\n\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VI.(895)\n\n\n\n\nCanto I. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThe son of Raghu heard, consoled,\nThe wondrous tale Hanum\u00e1n told;\nAnd, as his joyous hope grew high,\nIn friendly words he made reply:\n\n  \u201cBehold a mighty task achieved,\nWhich never heart but his conceived.\nWho else across the sea can spring,\nSave V\u00e1yu(896) and the Feathered King?(897)\nWho, pass the portals strong and high\nWhich N\u00e1gas,(898) Gods, and fiends defy,\nWhere R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s hosts their station keep,\u2014\nAnd come uninjured o\u2019er the deep?\nBy such a deed the Wind-God\u2019s son\nGood service to the king has done,\nAnd saved from ruin and disgrace\nLakshma\u1e47 and me and Raghu\u2019s race.\nWell has he planned and bravely fought,\nAnd with due care my lady sought.\nBut of the sea I sadly think,\nAnd the sweet hopes that cheered me sink.\nHow can we cross the leagues of foam\nThat keep us from the giant\u2019s home?\nWhat can the V\u00e1nar legions more\nThan muster on the ocean shore?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto II. Sugr\u00edva\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nHe ceased: and King Sugr\u00edva tried\nTo calm his grief, and thus replied:\n\u201c\u2019Be to thy nobler nature true,\nNor let despair thy soul subdue.\nThis cloud of causeless woe dispel,\nFor all as yet has prospered well,\nAnd we have traced thy queen, and know\nThe dwelling of our R\u00e1kshas foe.\nArise, consult: thy task must be\nTo cast a bridge athwart the sea,\nThe city of our foe to reach\nThat crowns the mountain by the beach;\nAnd when our feet that isle shall tread,\nRejoice and deem thy foeman dead.\nThe sea unbridged, his walls defy\nBoth fiends and children of the sky,\nThough at the fierce battalions\u2019 head\nLord Indra\u2019s self the onset led.\nYea, victory is thine before\nThe long bridge touch the farther shore,\nSo fleet and fierce and strong are these\nWho limb them as their fancies please.\nAway with grief and sad surmise\nThat mar the noblest enterprise,\nAnd with their weak suspicion blight\nThe sage\u2019s plan, the hero\u2019s might.\nCome, this degenerate weakness spurn,\nAnd bid thy dauntless heart return,\nFor each fair hope by grief is crossed\nWhen those we love are dead or lost.\nArise, O best of those who know,\nArm for the giant\u2019s overthrow.\nNone in the triple world I see\nWho in the fight may equal thee;\nNone who before thy face may stand\nAnd brave the bow that arms thy hand,\nTrust to these mighty V\u00e1nars: they\nWith full success thy trust will pay,\nWhen thou shalt reach the robber\u2019s hold,\nAnd loving arms round S\u00edt\u00e1 fold.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto III. Lank\u00e1.\n\n\nHe ceased: and Raghu\u2019s son gave heed,\nAttentive to his prudent rede:\nThen turned again, with hope inspired,\nTo Hanum\u00e1n, and thus inquired:\n\n  \u201cLight were the task for thee, I ween,\nTo bridge the sea that gleams between\nThe mainland and the island shore.\nOr dry the deep and guide as o\u2019er.\nFain would I learn from thee whose feet\nHave trod the stones of every street,\nOf fenced Lank\u00e1\u2019s towers and forts,\nAnd walls and moats and guarded ports,\nAnd castles where the giants dwell,\nAnd battlemented citadel.\nO V\u00e1yu\u2019s son, describe it all,\nWith palace, fort, and gate, and wall.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and, skilled in arts that guide\nThe eloquent, the chief replied:\n\n  \u201cVast is the city, gay and strong,\nWhere elephants unnumbered throng,\nAnd countless hosts of R\u00e1kshas breed\nStand ready by the car and steed.\nFour massive gates, securely barred,\nAll entrance to the city guard,\nWith murderous engines fixt to throw\nBolt, arrow, rock to check the foe,\nAnd many a mace with iron head\nThat strikes at once a hundred dead.\nHer golden ramparts wide and high\nWith massy strength the foe defy,\nWhere inner walls their rich inlay\nOf coral, turkis, pearl display.\nHer circling moats are broad and deep,\nWhere ravening monsters dart and leap.\nBy four great piers each moat is spanned\nWhere lines of deadly engines stand.\nIn sleepless watch at every gate\nUnnumbered hosts of giants wait,\nAnd, masters of each weapon, rear\nThe threatening pike and sword and spear.\nMy fury hurled those ramparts down,\nFilled up the moats that gird the town,\nThe piers and portals overturned,\nAnd stately Lank\u00e1 spoiled and burned.\nHowe\u2019er we V\u00e1nars force our way\nO\u2019er the wide seat of Varu\u1e47\u2019s(899) sway,\nBe sure that city of the foe\nIs doomed to sudden overthrow,\nNay, why so vast an army lead?\nBrave Angad, Dwivid good at need,\nFierce Mainda, Panas famed in fight,\nAnd N\u00edla\u2019s skill and Nala\u2019s might,\nAnd J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n the strong and wise,\nWill dare the easy enterprise.\nAssailed by these shall Lank\u00e1 fall\nWith gate and rampart, tower and wall.\nCommand the gathering, chief: and they\nIn happy hour will haste away.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto IV. The March.\n\n\nHe ceased; and spurred by warlike pride\nThe impetuous son of Raghu cried:\n\u201cSoon shall mine arm with wrathful joy\nThat city of the foe destroy.\nNow, chieftain, now collect the host,\nAnd onward to the southern coast!\nThe sun in his meridian tower\nGives glory to the V\u00e1nar power.\nThe demon lord who stole my queen\nBy timely flight his life may screen.\nShe, when she knows her lord is near,\nWill cling to hope and banish fear,\nSaved like a dying wretch who sips\nThe drink of Gods with fevered lips.\nArise, thy troops to battle lead:\nAll happy omens counsel speed.\nThe Lord of Stars in favouring skies\nBodes glory to our enterprise.\nThis arm shall slay the fiend; and she,\nMy consort, shall again be free.\nMine upward-throbbing eye foreshows\nThe longed-for triumph o\u2019er my foes.\nFar in the van be N\u00edla\u2019s post,\nTo scan the pathway for the host,\nAnd let thy bravest and thy best,\nA hundred thousand, wait his hest.\nGo forth, O warrior N\u00edla, lead\nThe legions on through wood and mead\nWhere pleasant waters cool the ground,\nAnd honey, flowers, and fruit abound.\nGo, and with timely care prevent\nThe R\u00e1kshas foeman\u2019s dark intent.\nWith watchful troops each valley guard\nEre brooks and fruits and roots be marred\nAnd search each glen and leafy shade\nFor hostile troops in ambuscade.\nBut let the weaklings stay behind:\nFor heroes is our task designed.\nLet thousands of the V\u00e1nar breed\nThe vanguard of the armies lead:\nFierce and terrific must it be\nAs billows of the stormy sea.\nThere be the hill-huge Gaja\u2019s place,\nAnd Gavaya\u2019s, strongest of his race,\nAnd, like the bull that leads the herd,\nGav\u00e1ksha\u2019s, by no fears deterred\nLet Rishabh, matchless in the might\nOf warlike arms, protect our right,\nAnd Gandham\u00e1dan next in rank\nDefend and guide the other flank.\nI, like the God who rules the sky\nBorne on Air\u00e1vat(900) mounted high\nOn stout Han\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s back will ride,\nThe central host to cheer and guide.\nFierce as the God who rules below,\nOn Angad\u2019s back let Lakshma\u1e47 show\nLike him who wealth to mortals shares,(901)\nThe lord whom S\u00e1rvabhauma(902) bears.\nThe bold Sushe\u1e47\u2019s impetuous might,\nAnd Vegadar\u015b\u00ed\u2019s piercing sight,\nAnd J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n whom bears revere,\nIllustrious three, shall guard the rear.\u201d\n\n  He ceased, the royal V\u00e1nar heard,\nAnd swift, obedient to his word,\nSprang forth in numbers none might tell\nFrom mountain, cave, and bosky dell,\nFrom rocky ledge and breezy height,\nFierce V\u00e1nars burning for the fight.\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s course was southward bent\nAmid the mighty armament.\nOn, joyous, pressed in close array\nThe hosts who owned Sugr\u00edva\u2019s sway,\nWith nimble feet, with rapid bound\nExploring, ere they passed, the ground,\nWhile from ten myriad throats rang out\nThe challenge and the battle shout.\nOn roots and honeycomb they fed,\nAnd clusters from the boughs o\u2019erhead,\nOr from the ground the tall trees tore\nRich with the flowery load they bore.\nSome carried comrades, wild with mirth,\nThen cast their riders to the earth,\nWho swiftly to their feet arose\nAnd overthrew their laughing foes.\nWhile still rang out the general cry,\n\u201cKing R\u00e1va\u1e47 and his fiends shall die,\u201d\nStill on, exulting in the pride\nOf conscious strength, the V\u00e1nars hied,\nAnd gazed where noble Sahya, best\nOf mountains, raised each towering crest.\nThey looked on lake and streamlet, where\nThe lotus bloom was bright and fair,\nNor marched\u2014for R\u00e1ma\u2019s hest they feared\nWhere town or haunt of men appeared.\nStill onward, fearful as the waves\nOf Ocean when he roars and raves,\nLed by their eager chieftains, went\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 countless armament.\nEach captain, like a noble steed\nUrged by the lash to double speed.\nPressed onward, filled with zeal and pride,\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s and his brother\u2019s side,\nWho high above the V\u00e1nar throng\nOn mighty backs were borne along,\nLike the great Lords of Day and Night\nSeized by eclipsing planets might.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 radiant as the morn,\nOn Angad\u2019s shoulders high upborne.\nWith sweet consoling words that woke\nNew ardour, to his brother spoke:\n\u201cSoon shalt thou turn, thy queen regained\nAnd impious R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s life-blood drained,\nIn happiness and high renown\nTo dear Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s happy town.\nI see around exceeding fair\nAll omens of the earth and air.\nAuspicious breezes sweet and low\nTo greet the V\u00e1nar army blow,\nAnd softly to my listening ear\nCome the glad cries of bird and deer.\nBright is the sky around us, bright\nWithout a cloud the Lord of Light,\nAnd \u015aukra(903) with propitious love\nLooks on thee from his throne above.\nThe pole-star and the Sainted Seven(904)\nShine brightly in the northern heaven,\nAnd great Tri\u015banku,(905) glorious king,\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son from whom we spring,\nBeams in unclouded glory near\nHis holy priest(906) whom all revere.\nUndimmed the two Vi\u015b\u00e1kh\u00e1s(907) shine,\nThe strength and glory of our line,\nAnd Nairrit\u2019s(908) influence that aids\nOur R\u00e1kshas foemen faints and fades.\nThe running brooks are fresh and fair,\nThe boughs their ripening clusters bear,\nAnd scented breezes gently sway\nThe leaflet of the tender spray.\nSee, with a glory half divine\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 ordered legions shine,\nBright as the Gods\u2019 exultant train\nWho saw the demon T\u00e1rak slain.\nO let thine eyes these signs behold,\nAnd bid thy heart be glad and bold.\u201d\n\n  The V\u00e1nar squadrons densely spread\nO\u2019er all the country onward sped,\nWhile rising from the rapid beat\nOf bears\u2019 and monkeys\u2019 hastening feet.\nDust hid the earth with thickest veil,\nAnd made the struggling sunbeams pale.\nNow where Mahendra\u2019s peaks arise\nCame R\u00e1ma of the lotus eyes\nAnd the long arm\u2019s resistless might,\nAnd clomb the mountain\u2019s wood-crowned height.\nThence Da\u015baratha\u2019s son beheld\nWhere billowy Ocean rose and swelled,\nPast Malaya\u2019s peaks and Sahya\u2019s chain\nThe V\u00e1nar legions reached the main,\nAnd stood in many a marshalled band\nOn loud-resounding Ocean\u2019s strand.\nTo the fair wood that fringed the tide\nCame Da\u015baratha\u2019s son, and cried:\n\u201cAt length, my lord Sugr\u00edva, we\nHave reached King Varu\u1e47\u2019s realm the sea,\nAnd one great thought, still-vexing, how\nTo cross the flood, awaits us now.\nThe broad deep ocean, that denies\nA passage, stretched before us lies.\nThen let us halt and plan the while\nHow best to storm the giant\u2019s isle.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: Sugr\u00edva on the coast\nBy trees o\u2019ershadowed stayed the host,\nThat seemed in glittering lines to be\nThe bright waves of a second sea.\nThen from the shore the captains gazed\nOn billows which the breezes raised\nTo fury, as they dashed in foam\nO\u2019er Varu\u1e47\u2019s realm, the Asurs\u2019 home:(909)\nThe sea that laughed with foam, and danced\nWith waves whereon the sunbeams glanced:\nWhere, when the light began to fade,\nHuge crocodiles and monsters played;\nAnd, when the moon went up the sky,\nThe troubled billows rose on high\nFrom the wild watery world whereon\nA thousand moons reflected shone:\nWhere awful serpents swam and showed\nTheir fiery crests which flashed and glowed,\nIllumining the depths of hell,\nThe prison where the demons dwell.\nThe eye, bewildered, sought in vain\nThe bounding line of sky and main:\nAlike in shade, alike in glow\nWere sky above and sea below.\nThere wave-like clouds by clouds were chased,\nHere cloud-like billows roared and raced:\nThen shone the stars, and many a gem\nThat lit the waters answered them.\nThey saw the great-souled Ocean stirred\nTo frenzy by the winds, and heard,\nLoud as ten thousand drums, the roar\nOf wild waves dashing on the shore.\nThey saw him mounting to defy\nWith deafening voice the troubled sky.\nAnd the deep bed beneath him swell\nIn fury as the billows fell.\n\n\n\n\nCanto V. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nThere on the coast in long array\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 marshalled legions lay,\nWhere N\u00edla\u2019s care had ordered well\nThe watch of guard and sentinel,\nAnd Mainda moved from post to post\nWith Dwivid to protect the host.\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma stood by Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side,\nAnd mastered by his sorrow cried:\n\u201cMy brother dear, the heart\u2019s distress,\nAs days wear on, grows less and less.\nBut my deep-seated grief, alas,\nGrows fiercer as the seasons pass.\nThough for my queen my spirit longs,\nAnd broods indignant o\u2019er my wrongs,\nStill wilder is my grief to know\nThat her young life is passed in woe.\nBreathe, gentle gale, O breathe where she\nLies prisoned, and then breathe on me,\nAnd, though my love I may not meet,\nThy kiss shall be divinely sweet.\nAh, by the giant\u2019s shape appalled,\nOn her dear lord for help she called,\nStill in mine ears the sad cry rings\nAnd tears my heart with poison stings.\nThrough the long daylight and the gloom\nOf night wild thoughts of her consume\nMy spirit, and my love supplies\nThe torturing flame which never dies.\nLeave me, my brother; I will sleep\nCouched on the bosom of the deep,\nFor the cold wave may bring me peace\nAnd bid the fire of passion cease.\nOne only thought my stay must be,\nThat earth, one earth, holds her and me,\nTo hear, to know my darling lives\nSome life-supporting comfort gives,\nAs streams from distant fountains run\nO\u2019er meadows parching in the sun.\nAh when, my foeman at my feet,\nShall I my queen, my glory, meet,\nThe blossom of her dear face raise\nAnd on her eyes enraptured gaze,\nPress her soft lips to mine again,\nAnd drink a balm to banish pain!\nAlas, alas! where lies she now,\nMy darling of the lovely brow?\nOn the cold earth, no help at hand,\nForlorn amid the R\u00e1kshas band,\nKing Janak\u2019s child still calls on me,\nHer lord and love, to set her free.\nBut soon in glory will she rise\nA crescent moon in autumn skies,\nAnd those dark rovers of the night,\nLike scattered clouds shall turn in flight.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto VI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nBut when the giant king surveyed\nHis glorious town in ruin laid,\nAnd each dire sign of victory won\nBy Hanum\u00e1n the Wind-God\u2019s son,\nHe vailed his angry eyes oppressed\nBy shame, and thus his lords addressed:\n\u201cThe V\u00e1nar spy has passed the gate\nOf Lank\u00e1 long inviolate,\nEluded watch and ward, and seen\nWith his bold eyes the captive queen.\nMy royal roof with flames is red,\nThe bravest of my lords are dead,\nAnd the fierce V\u00e1nar in his hate\nHas left our city desolate.\nNow ponder well the work that lies\nBefore us, ponder and advise.\nWith deep-observing judgment scan\nThe peril, and mature a plan.\nFrom counsel, sages say, the root,\nSprings victory, most glorious fruit.\nFirst ranks the king, when woe impends\nWho seeks the counsel of his friends,\nOf kinsmen ever faithful found,\nOr those whose hopes with his are bound,\nThen with their aid his strength applies,\nAnd triumphs in his enterprise.\nNext ranks the prince who plans alone,\nNo counsel seeks to aid his own,\nWeighs loss and gain and wrong and right,\nAnd seeks success with earnest might.\nUnwisest he who spurns delays,\nWho counts no cost, no peril weighs,\nSpeeds to his aim, defying fate,\nAnd risks his all, precipitate.\nThus too in counsel sages find\nA best, a worst, a middle kind.\nWhen gathered counsellors explore\nThe way by light of holy lore,\nAnd all from first to last agree,\nIs the best counsel of the three.\nNext, if debate first waxes high,\nAnd each his chosen plan would try\nTill all agree at last, we deem\nThis counsel second in esteem.\nWorst of the three is this, when each\nAssails with taunt his fellow\u2019s speech;\nWhen all debate, and no consent\nConcludes the angry argument.\nConsult then, lords; my task shall be\nTo crown with act your wise decree.\nWith thousands of his wild allies\nThe vengeful R\u00e1ma hither hies;\nWith unresisted might and speed\nAcross the flood his troops will lead,\nOr for the V\u00e1nar host will drain\nThe channels of the conquered main.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto VII. R\u00e1van Encouraged.\n\n\nHe ceased: they scorned, with blinded eyes,\nThe foeman and his bold allies,\nRaised reverent hands with one accord,\nAnd thus made answer to their lord:\n\u201cWhy yield thee, King, to causeless fear?\nA mighty host with sword and spear\nAnd mace and axe and pike and lance\nWaits but thy signal to advance.\nArt thou not he who slew of old\nThe Serpent-Gods, and stormed their hold;\nScaled Mount Kail\u00e1sa and o\u2019erthrew\nKuvera(910) and his Yaksha crew,\nCompelling \u015aiva\u2019s haughty friend\nBeneath a mightier arm to bend?\nDidst thou not bring from realms afar\nThe marvel of the magic car,\nWhen they who served Kuvera fell\nCrushed in their mountain citadel?\nAttracted by thy matchless fame\nTo thee, a suppliant, Maya came,\nThe lord of every D\u00e1nav band,\nAnd won thee with his daughter\u2019s hand.\nThy arm in hell itself was felt,\nWhere V\u00e1suki(911) and \u015aankha dwelt,\nAnd they and Takshak, overthrown,\nWere forced thy conquering might to own.\nThe Gods in vain their blessing gave\nTo heroes bravest of the brave,\nWho strove a year and, sorely pressed,\nTheir victor\u2019s peerless might confessed.\nIn vain their magic arts they tried,\nIn vain thy matchless arm defied\nKing Varu\u1e47\u2019s sons with fourfold force,\nCars, elephants, and foot, and horse,\nBut for a while thy power withstood,\nAnd, conquered, mourned their hardihood.\nThou hast encountered, face to face,\nKing Y\u00e1ma(912) with his murdering mace.\nFierce as the wild tempestuous sea,\nWhat terror had his wrath for thee,\nThough death in every threatening form,\nAnd woe and torment, urged the storm?\nThine arm a glorious victory won\nO\u2019er the dread king who pities none;\nAnd the three worlds, from terror freed,\nIn joyful wonder praised thy deed.\nThe tribe of Warriors, strong and dread\nAs Indra\u2019s self, o\u2019er earth had spread;\nAs giant trees that towering stand\nIn mountain glens, they filled the land.\nCan Raghu\u2019s son encounter foes\nFierce, numerous, and strong as those?\nYet, trained in war and practised well,\nO\u2019ermatched by thee, they fought and fell,\nStay in thy royal home, nor care\nThe battle and the toil to share;\nBut let the easy fight be won\nBy Indraj\u00edt(913) thy matchless son.\nAll, all shall die, if thou permit,\nSlain by the hand of Indraj\u00edt.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto VIII. Prahasta\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nDark as a cloud of autumn, dread\nPrahasta joined his palms and said:\n\n  \u201cGandharvas, Gods, the hosts who dwell\nIn heaven, in air, in earth, in hell,\nHave yielded to thy might, and how\nShall two weak men oppose thee now?\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n came, a foe disguised,\nAnd mocked us heedless and surprised,\nOr never had he lived to flee\nAnd boast that he has fought with me.\nCommand, O King, and this right hand\nShall sweep the V\u00e1nars from the land,\nAnd hill and dale, to Ocean\u2019s shore,\nShall know the death-doomed race no more.\nBut let my care the means devise\nTo guard thy city from surprise.\u201d\n\n  Then Durmukh cried, of R\u00e1kshas race:\n\u201cToo long we brook the dire disgrace.\nHe gave our city to the flames,\nHe trod the chambers of thy dames.\nNe\u2019er shall so weak and vile a thing\nUnpunished brave the giants\u2019 king.\nNow shall this single arm attack\nAnd drive the daring V\u00e1nars back,\nTill to the winds of heaven they flee,\nOr seek the depths of earth and sea.\u201d\n\n  Then, brandishing the mace he bore,\nWhose horrid spikes were stained with gore,\nWhile fury made his eyeballs red,\nImpetuous Vajradansh\u1e6dra said:\n\n  \u201cWhy waste a thought on one so vile\nAs Han\u00fam\u00e1n the V\u00e1nar, while\nSugr\u00edva, Lakshma\u1e47, yet remain,\nAnd R\u00e1ma mightier still, unslain?\nThis mace to-day shall crush the three,\nAnd all the host will turn and flee.\nListen, and I will speak: incline,\nO King, to hear these words of mine,\nFor the deep plan that I propose\nWill swiftly rid thee of thy foes.\nLet thousands of thy host assume\nThe forms of men in youthful bloom,\nIn war\u2019s magnificent array\nDraw near to Raghu\u2019s son, and say:\n\u201cThy younger brother Bharat sends\nThis army, and thy cause befriends.\u201d\nThen let our legions hasten near\nWith bow and mace and sword and spear,\nAnd on the V\u00e1nar army rain\nOur steel and stone till all be slain.\nIf Raghu\u2019s sons will fain believe,\nEntangled in the net we weave,\nThe penalty they both must pay,\nAnd lose their forfeit lives to-day.\u201d\nThen with his warrior soul on fire,\nNikumbha spoke in burning ire:\n\n  \u201cI, only I, will take the field,\nAnd Raghu\u2019s son his life shall yield.\nWithin these walls, O Chiefs, abide,\nNor part ye from our monarch\u2019s side.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto IX. Vibhishan\u2019s Counsel.\n\n\nA score of warriors(914) forward sprang,\nAnd loud the clashing iron rang\nOf mace and axe and spear and sword,\nAs thus they spake unto their lord:\n\u201cTheir king Sugr\u00edva will we slay,\nAnd Raghu\u2019s sons, ere close of day,\nAnd strike the wretch Han\u00fam\u00e1n down,\nThe spoiler of our golden town.\u201d\n\n  But sage Vibhisha\u1e47 strove to calm\nThe chieftains\u2019 fury; palm to palm\nHe joined in lowly reverence, pressed(915)\nBefore them, and the throng addressed:\n\n  \u201cDismiss the hope of conquering one\nSo stern and strong as Raghu\u2019s son.\nIn due control each sense he keeps\nWith constant care that never sleeps.\nWhose daring heart has e\u2019er conceived\nThe exploit Hanum\u00e1n achieved,\nAcross the fearful sea to spring,\nThe tributary rivers\u2019 king?\nO R\u00e1kshas lords, in time be wise,\nNor R\u00e1ma\u2019s matchless power despise.\nAnd say, what evil had the son\nOf Raghu to our monarch done,\nWho stole the dame he loved so well\nAnd keeps her in his citadel;\nIf Khara in his foolish pride\nEncountered R\u00e1ma, fought, and died,\nMay not the meanest love his life\nAnd guard it in the deadly strife?\nThe Maithil dame, O R\u00e1kshas King,\nSore peril to thy realm will bring.\nRestore her while there yet is time,\nNor let us perish for thy crime.\nO, let the Maithil lady go\nEre the avenger bend his bow\nTo ruin with his arrowy showers\nOur Lank\u00e1 with her gates and towers.\nLet Janak\u2019s child again be free\nEre the wild V\u00e1nars cross the sea,\nIn their resistless might assail\nOur city and her ramparts scale.\nAh, I conjure thee by the ties\nOf brotherhood, be just and wise.\nIn all my thoughts thy good I seek,\nAnd thus my prudent counsel speak.\nLet captive S\u00edt\u00e1 be restored\nEre, fierce as autumn\u2019s sun, her lord\nSend his keen arrows from the string\nTo drink the life-blood of our king.\nThis fury from thy soul dismiss,\nThe bane of duty, peace, and bliss.\nSeek duty\u2019s path and walk therein,\nAnd joy and endless glory win.\nRestore the captive, ere we feel\nThe piercing point of R\u00e1ma\u2019s steel.\nO spare thy city, spare the lives\nOf us, our friends, our sons and wives.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake Vibhisha\u1e47 wise and brave:\nThe R\u00e1kshas king no answer gave,\nBut bade his lords the council close,\nAnd sought his chamber for repose.\n\n\n\n\nCanto X. Vibhishan\u2019s Counsel.\n\n\nSoon as the light of morning broke,\nVibhisha\u1e47 from his slumber woke,\nAnd, duty guiding every thought,\nThe palace of his brother sought.\nVast as a towering hill that shows\nHis peaks afar, that palace rose.\nHere stood within the monarch\u2019s gate\nSage nobles skilful in debate.\nThere strayed in glittering raiment through\nThe courts his royal retinue,\nWhere in wild measure rose and fell\nThe music of the drum and shell,\nAnd talk grew loud, and many a dame\nOf fairest feature went and came\nThrough doors a marvel to behold,\nWith pearl inlaid on burning gold:\nTherein Gandharvas or the fleet\nLords of the storm might joy to meet.\nHe passed within the wondrous pile,\nChief glory of the giants\u2019 isle:\nThus, ere his fiery course be done,\nAn autumn cloud admits the sun.\nHe heard auspicious voices raise\nWith loud accord the note of praise,\nAnd sages, deep in Scripture, sing\nEach glorious triumph of the king.\nHe saw the priests in order stand,\nCurd, oil, in every sacred hand;\nAnd by them flowers were laid and grain,\nDue offerings to the holy train.\nVibhisha\u1e47 to the monarch bowed,\nRaised on a throne above the crowd:\nThen, skilled in arts of soft address,\nHe raised his voice the king to bless,\nAnd sate him on a seat where he\nFull in his brother\u2019s sight should be.\nThe chieftain there, while none could hear,\nSpoke his true speech for R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s ear,\nAnd to his words of wisdom lent\nThe force of weightiest argument:\n\n  \u201cO brother, hear! since R\u00e1ma\u2019s queen\nA captive in thy house has been,\nDisastrous omens day by day\nHave struck our souls with wild dismay.\nNo longer still and strong and clear\nThe flames of sacrifice appear,\nBut, restless with the frequent spark,\nNeath clouds of smoke grow faint and dark.\nOur ministering priests turn pale\nTo see their wonted offerings fail,\nAnd ants and serpents creep and crawl\nWithin the consecrated hall.(916)\nDried are the udders of our cows,\nOur elephants have juiceless brows,(917)\nNor can the sweetest pasture stay\nThe charger\u2019s long unquiet neigh.\nBig tears from mules and camels flow\nWhose staring coats their trouble show,\nNor can the leech\u2019s art restore\nTheir health and vigour as before.\nRapacious birds are fierce and bold:\nNot single hunters as of old,\nIn banded troops they chase the prey,\nOr gathering on our temples stay.\nThrough twilight hours with shriek and howl\nAround the city jackals prowl,\nAnd wolves and foul hy\u00e6nas wait\nAthirst for blood at every gate.\nOne sole atonement still may cure\nThese evils, and our weal assure.\nRestore the Maithil dame, and win\nAn easy pardon for thy sin.\u201d\n\n  The R\u00e1kshas monarch heard, and moved\nTo sudden wrath his speech reproved:\n\n  \u201cNo danger, brother, can I see:\nThe Maithil dame I will not free.\nThough all the Gods for R\u00e1ma fight,\nHe yields to my superior might.\u201d\nThus the tremendous king who broke\nThe ranks of heavenly warriors spoke,\nAnd, sternly purposed to resist,\nHis brother from the hall dismissed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XI. The Summons.\n\n\nStill R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s haughty heart rebelled,\nThe counsel of the wise repelled,\nAnd, as his breast with passion burned,\nHis thoughts again to S\u00edt\u00e1 turned.\nThus, to each sign of danger blind,\nTo love and war he still inclined.\nThen mounted he his car that glowed\nWith gems and golden net, and rode\nWhere, gathered at the monarch\u2019s call,\nThe nobles filled the council hall.\nA host of warriors bright and gay\nWith coloured robes and rich array,\nWith shield and mace and spear and sword,\nFollowed the chariot of their lord.\nMid the loud voice of shells and beat\nOf drums he raced along the street,\nAnd, ere he came, was heard afar\nThe rolling thunder of his car.\nHe reached the doors: the nobles bent\nTheir heads before him reverent:\nAnd, welcomed with their loud acclaim,\nWithin the glorious hall he came.\nHe sat upon a royal seat\nWith golden steps beneath his feet,\nAnd bade the heralds summon all\nHis captains to the council hall.\nThe heralds heard the words he spake,\nAnd sped from house to house to wake\nThe giants where they slept or spent\nThe careless hours in merriment.\nThese heard the summons and obeyed:\nFrom chamber, grove, and colonnade,\nOn elephants or cars they rode,\nOr through the streets impatient strode.\nAs birds on rustling pinions fly\nThrough regions of the darkened sky,\nThus cars and mettled coursers through\nThe crowded streets of Lank\u00e1 flew.\nThe council hall was reached, and then,\nAs lions seek their mountain den,\nThrough massy doors that opened wide,\nWith martial stalk the captains hied.\nWelcomed with honour as was meet\nThey stooped to press their monarch\u2019s feet,\nAnd each a place in order found\nOn stool, on cushion, or the ground.\nNor did the sage Vibhisha\u1e47 long\nDelay to join the noble throng.\nHigh on a car that shone like flame\nWith gold and flashing gems he came,\nDrew near and spoke his name aloud,\nAnd reverent to his brother bowed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThe king in counsel unsurpassed\nHis eye around the synod cast,\nAnd fierce Prahasta, first and best\nOf all his captains, thus addressed:\n\n  \u201cBrave master of each warlike art,\nArouse thee and perform thy part.\nArray thy fourfold forces(918) well\nTo guard our isle and citadel.\u201d\n\n  The captain of the hosts obeyed,\nThe troops with prudent skill arrayed;\nThen to the hall again he hied,\nAnd stood before the king and cried:\n\u201cEach inlet to the town is closed\nWithout, within, are troops disposed.\nWith fearless heart thine aim pursue\nAnd do the deed thou hast in view.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke Prahasta in the zeal\nThat moved him for the kingdom\u2019s weal.\nAnd thus the monarch, who pursued\nHis own delight, his speech renewed:\n\u201cIn ease and bliss, in toil and pain,\nIn doubts of duty, pleasure, gain,\nYour proper path I need not tell,\nFor of yourselves ye know it well.\nThe Storm-Gods, Moon, and planets bring\nNew glory to their heavenly king,(919)\nAnd, ranged about your monarch, ye\nGive joy and endless fame to me.\nMy secret counsel have I kept,\nWhile senseless Kumbhakar\u1e47a slept.\nSix months the warrior\u2019s slumbers last\nAnd bind his torpid senses fast;\nBut now his deep repose he breaks,\nThe best of all our champions wakes.\nI captured, R\u00e1ma\u2019s heart to wring,\nThis daughter of Videha\u2019s king.\nAnd brought her from that distant land(920)\nWhere wandered many a R\u00e1kshas band.\nDisdainful still my love she spurns,\nStill from each prayer and offering turns,\nYet in all lands beneath the sun\nNo dame may rival S\u00edt\u00e1, none,\nHer dainty waist is round and slight,\nHer cheek like autumn\u2019s moon is bright,\nAnd she like fruit in graven gold\nMocks her(921) whom Maya framed of old.\nFaultless in form, how firmly tread\nHer feet whose soles are rosy red!\nAh, as I gaze her beauty takes\nMy spirit, and my passion wakes.\nLooking for R\u00e1ma far away\nShe sought with tears a year\u2019s delay\nNor gazing on her love-lit eye\nCould I that earnest prayer deny.\nBut baffled hopes and vain desire\nAt length my patient spirit tire.\nHow shall the sons of Raghu sweep\nTo vengeance o\u2019er the pathless deep?\nHow shall they lead the V\u00e1nar train\nAcross the monster-teeming main?\nOne V\u00e1nar yet could find a way\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s town, and burn and slay.\nTake counsel then, remembering still\nThat we from men need fear no ill;\nAnd give your sentence in debate,\nFor matchless is the power of fate.\nAssailed by you the Gods who dwell\nIn heaven beneath our fury fell.\nAnd shall we fear these creatures bred\nIn forests, by Sugr\u00edva led?\nE\u2019en now on ocean\u2019s farther strand,\nThe sons of Da\u015baratha stand,\nAnd follow, burning to attack\nTheir giant foes, on S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s track.\nConsult then, lords for ye are wise:\nA seasonable plan devise.\nThe captive lady to retain,\nAnd triumph when the foes are slain.\nNo power can bring across the foam\nThose V\u00e1nars to our island home;\nOr if they madly will defy\nOur conquering might, they needs must die.\u201d\n\n  Then Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s anger woke,\nAnd wroth at R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s words he spoke:\n\u201cO Monarch, when thy ravished eyes\nFirst looked upon thy lovely prize,\nThen was the time to bid us scan\nEach peril and mature a plan.\nBlest is the king who acts with heed,\nAnd ne\u2019er repents one hasty deed;\nAnd hapless he whose troubled soul\nMourns over days beyond control.\nThou hast, in beauty\u2019s toils ensnared,\nA desperate deed of boldness dared;\nBy fortune saved ere R\u00e1ma\u2019s steel\nOne wound, thy mortal bane, could deal.\nBut, R\u00e1va\u1e47, as the deed is done,\nThe toil of war I will not shun.\nThis arm, O rover of the night,\nThy foemen to the earth shall smite,\nThough Indra with the Lord of Flame,\nThe Sun and Storms, against me came.\nE\u2019en Indra, monarch of the skies,\nWould dread my club and mountain size,\nShrink from these teeth and quake to hear\nThe thunders of my voice of fear.\nNo second dart shall R\u00e1ma cast:\nThe first he aims shall be the last.\nHe falls, and these dry lips shall drain\nThe blood of him my hand has slain;\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1, when her champion dies,\nShall be thine undisputed prize.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nBut Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva saw the sting\nOf keen reproach had galled the king;\nAnd humbly, eager to appease\nHis anger, spoke in words like these:\n\n  \u201cAnd breathes there one so cold and weak\nThe forest and the gloom to seek\nWhere savage beasts abound, and spare\nTo taste the luscious honey there?\nArt thou not lord? and who is he\nShall venture to give laws to thee?\nLove thy Videhan still, and tread\nUpon thy prostrate foeman\u2019s head.\nO\u2019er S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s will let thine prevail,\nAnd strength achieve if flattery fail.\nWhat though the lady yet be coy\nAnd turn her from the proffered joy?\nSoon shall her conquered heart relent\nAnd yield to love and blandishment.\nWith us let Kumbhakar\u1e47a fight,\nAnd Indraj\u00edt of matchless might:\nWe need not other champions, they\nShall lead us forth to rout and slay.\nNot ours to bribe or soothe or part\nThe foeman\u2019s force with gentle art,\nDoomed, conquered by our might, to feel\nThe vengeance of the warrior\u2019s steel.\u201d\n\n  The R\u00e1kshas monarch heard, and moved\nBy flattering hopes the speech approved:\n\n  \u201cHear me,\u201d he cried, \u201cgreat chieftain, tell\nWhat in the olden time befell,\u2014\nA secret tale which, long suppressed,\nLies prisoned only in my breast.\nOne day\u2014a day I never forget\u2014\nFair Punjikasthal\u00e1(922) I met,\nWhen, radiant as a flame of fire,\nShe sought the palace of the Sire.\nIn passion\u2019s eager grasp I tore\nFrom her sweet limbs the robes she wore,\nAnd heedless of her prayers and cries\nStrained to my breast the vanquised prize.\nLike Nalin\u00ed(923) with soil distained,\nThe mansion of the Sire she gained,\nAnd weeping made the outrage known\nTo Brahm\u00e1 on his heavenly throne.\nHe in his wrath pronounced a curse,\u2014\nThat lord who made the universe:\n\u201cIf, R\u00e1va\u1e47, thou a second time\nBe guilty of so foul a crime,\nThy head in shivers shall be rent:\nBe warned, and dread the punishment.\u201d\nAwed by the threat of vengeance still\nI force not S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s stubborn will.\nTerrific as the sea in might:\nMy steps are like the Storm-Gods\u2019 flight;\nBut R\u00e1ma knows not this, or he\nHad never sought to war with me.\nWhere is the man would idly brave\nThe lion in his mountain cave,\nAnd wake him when with slumbering eyes\nGrim, terrible as Death, he lies?\nNo, blinded R\u00e1ma knows me not:\nNe\u2019er has he seen mine arrows shot;\nNe\u2019er marked them speeding to their aim\nLike snakes with cloven tongues of flame.\nOn him those arrows will I turn,\nWhose fiery points shall rend and burn.\nQuenched by my power when I assail\nThe glory of his might shall fail,\nAs stars before the sun grow dim\nAnd yield their feeble light to him.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIV. Vibhishan\u2019s Speech.\n\n\n  He ceased: Vibhisha\u1e47 ill at ease\nAddressed the king in words like these:\n\n  \u201cO R\u00e1va\u1e47, O my lord, beware\nOf S\u00edt\u00e1 dangerous as fair,\nNor on thy heedless bosom hang\nThis serpent with a deadly fang.\nO King, the Maithil dame restore\nTo Raghu\u2019s matchless son before\nThose warriors of the woodlands, vast\nAs mountain peaks, approaching fast,\nArmed with fierce teeth and claws, enclose\nThy city with unsparing foes.\nO, be the Maithil dame restored\nEre loosened from the clanging cord\nThe vengeful shafts of R\u00e1ma fly,\nAnd low in death thy princes lie.\nIn all thy legions hast thou one\nA match in war for Raghu\u2019s son?\nCan Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s self withstand,\nOr Indraj\u00edt, that mighty hand?\nIn vain with R\u00e1ma wilt thou strive:\nThou wilt not save thy soul alive\nThough guarded by the Lord of Day\nAnd Storm-Gods\u2019 terrible array,\nIn vain to Indra wilt thou fly,\nOr seek protection in the sky,\nIn Y\u00e1ma\u2019s gloomy mansion dwell,\nOr hide thee in the depths of hell.\u201d\n\n  He ceased; and when his lips were closed\nPrahasta thus his rede opposed:\n\n  \u201cO timid heart, to counsel thus!\nWhat terrors have the Gods for us?\nCan snake, Gandharva, fiend appal\nThe giants\u2019 sons who scorn them all?\nAnd shall we now our birth disgrace,\nAnd dread a king of human race?\u201d\nThus fierce Prahasta counselled ill:\nBut sage Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s constant will\nThe safety of the realm ensued;\nWho thus in turn his speech renewed:\n\n  \u201cYes, when a soul defiled with sin\nShall mount to heaven and enter in,\nThen, chieftain, will experience teach\nThe truth of thy disdainful speech.\nCan I, or thou, or these or all\nOur bravest compass R\u00e1ma\u2019s fall,\nThe chief in whom all virtues shine,\nThe pride of old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019a line,\nWith whom the Gods may scarce compare\nIn skill to act, in heart to dare?\nYea, idly mayst thou vaunt thee, till\nSharp arrows winged with matchless skill\nFrom R\u00e1ma\u2019s bowstring, fleet and fierce\nAs lightning\u2019s flame, thy body pierce.\nNikumbha shall not save thee then,\nNor R\u00e1va\u1e47, from the lord of men.\nO Monarch, hear my last appeal,\nMy counsel for thy kingdom\u2019s weal.\nThis sentence I again declare:\nO giant King, beware, beware!\nSave from the ruin that impends\nThy town, thy people, and thy friends;\nO hear the warning urged once more:\nTo Raghu\u2019s son the dame restore.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XV. Indraj\u00edt\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nHe ceased: and Indraj\u00edt the pride\nOf R\u00e1kshas warriors thus replied:\n\n  \u201cIs this a speech our king should hear,\nThis counsel of ignoble fear?\nA scion of our glorious race\nShould ne\u2019er conceive a thought so base,\nBut one mid all our kin we find,\nVibhisha\u1e47, whose degenerate mind\nNo spark of gallant pride retains,\nWhose coward soul his lineage stains.\nAgainst one giant what can two\nUnhappy sons of Raghu do?\nAway with idle fears, away!\nMatched with our meanest, what are they?\nBeneath my conquering prowess fell\nThe Lord of earth and heaven and hell.(924)\nThrough every startled region dread\nOf my resistless fury spread;\nAnd Gods in each remotest sphere\nConfessed the universal fear.\nRending the air with roar and groan,\nAir\u00e1vat(925) to the earth was thrown.\nFrom his huge head the tusks I drew,\nAnd smote the Gods with fear anew.\nShall I who tame celestials\u2019 pride,\nBy whom the fiends are terrified,\nNow prove a weakling little worth,\nAnd fail to slay those sons of earth?\u201d\n\n  He ceased: Vibhisha\u1e47 trained and tried\nIn war and counsel thus replied\n\n  \u201cThy speech is marked with scorn of truth,\nWith rashness and the pride of youth.\nYea, to thy ruin like a child\nThou pratest, and thy words are wild.\nMost dear, O Indraj\u00edt, to thee\nShould R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s weal and safety be,\nFor thou art called his son, but thou\nArt proved his direst foeman now,\nWhen warned by me thou hast not tried\nTo turn the coming woe aside.\nBoth thee and him \u2019twere meet to slay,\nWho brought thee to this hall to-day,\nAnd dared so rash a youth admit\nTo council where the wisest sit.\nPresumptuous, wild, devoid of sense,\nFilled full of pride and insolence,\nThy reckless tongue thou wilt not rule\nThat speaks the counsel of a fool.\nWho in the fight may brook or shun\nThe arrows shot by Raghu\u2019s son\nWith flame and fiery vengeance sped,\nDire as his staff who rules the dead?\nO R\u00e1va\u1e47, let thy people live,\nAnd to the son of Raghu give\nFair robes and gems and precious ore,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 to his arms restore.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThen, while his breast with fury swelled,\nThus R\u00e1va\u1e47 spoke, as fate impelled:\n\n  \u201cBetter with foes thy dwelling make,\nOr house thee with the venomed snake,\nThan live with false familiar friends\nWho further still thy foeman\u2019s ends.\nI know their treacherous mood, I know\nTheir secret triumph at thy woe.\nThey in their inward hearts despise\nThe brave, the noble, and the wise,\nGrieve at their bliss with rancorous hate,\nAnd for their sorrows watch and wait:\nScan every fault with curious eye,\nAnd each slight error magnify.\nAsk elephants who roam the wild\nHow were their captive friends beguiled.\n\u201cFor fire,\u201d they cry, \u201cwe little care,\nFor javelin and shaft and snare:\nOur foes are traitors, taught to bind\nThe trusting creatures of their kind.\u201d\nStill, still, shall blessings flow from cows,(926)\nAnd Br\u00e1hmans love their rigorous vows;\nStill woman change her restless will,\nAnd friends perfidious work us ill.\nWhat though with conquering feet I tread\nOn every prostrate foeman\u2019s head;\nWhat though the worlds in abject fear\nTheir mighty lord in me revere?\nThis thought my peace of mind destroys\nAnd robs me of expected joys.\nThe lotus of the lake receives\nThe glittering rain that gems its leaves,\nBut each bright drop remains apart:\nSo is it still with heart and heart.\nDeceitful as an autumn cloud\nWhich, though its thunderous voice be loud,\nOn the dry earth no torrent sends,\nSuch is the race of faithless friends.\nNo riches of the bloomy spray\nWill tempt the wandering bee to stay\nThat loves from flower to flower to range;\nAnd friends like thee are swift to change.\nThou blot upon thy glorious line,\nIf any giant\u2019s tongue but thine\nHad dared to give this base advice,\nHe should not live to shame me twice.\u201d\n\n  Then just Vibhisha\u1e47 in the heat\nOf anger started from his seat,\nAnd with four captains of the band\nSprang forward with his mace in hand;\nThen, fury flashing from his eye,\nLooked on the king and made reply:\n\n  \u201cThy rights, O R\u00e1va\u1e47, I allow:\nMy brother and mine elder thou.\nSuch, though from duty\u2019s path they stray,\nWe love like fathers and obey,\nBut still too bitter to be borne\nIs thy harsh speech of cruel scorn.\nThe rash like thee, who spurn control,\nNor check one longing of the soul,\nUrged by malignant fate repel\nThe faithful friend who counsels well.\nA thousand courtiers wilt thou meet,\nWith flattering lips of smooth deceit:\nBut rare are they whose tongue or ear\nWill speak the bitter truth, or hear.\nUnclose thy blinded eyes and see\nThat snares of death encompass thee.\nI dread, my brother, to behold\nThe shafts of R\u00e1ma, bright with gold,\nFlash fury through the air, and red\nWith fires of vengeance strike thee dead.\nLord, brother, King, again reflect,\nNor this mine earnest prayer reject,\nO, save thyself, thy royal town,\nThy people and thine old renown.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVII. Vibhishan\u2019s Flight.\n\n\nSoon as his bitter words were said,\nTo Raghu\u2019s sons Vibhisha\u1e47 fled.(927)\nTheir eyes the V\u00e1nar leaders raised\nAnd on the air-borne R\u00e1khshas gazed,\nBright as a thunderbolt, in size\nLike Meru\u2019s peak that cleaves the skies.\nIn gorgeous panoply arrayed\nLike Indra\u2019s self he stood displayed,\nAnd four attendants brave and bold\nShone by their chief in mail and gold.\nSugr\u00edva then with dark surmise\nBent on their forms his wondering eyes,\nAnd thus in hasty words confessed\nThe anxious doubt that moved his breast:\n\n  \u201cLook, look ye V\u00e1nars, and beware:\nThat giant chief sublime in air\nWith other four in bright array\nComes armed to conquer and to slay.\u201d\nSoon as his warning speech they heard,\nThe V\u00e1nar chieftains undeterred\nSeized fragments of the rock and trees,\nAnd made reply in words like these:\n\u201cWe wait thy word: the order give,\nAnd these thy foes shall cease to live.\nCommand us, mighty King, and all\nLifeless upon the earth shall fall.\u201d\n\n  Meanwhile Vibhisha\u1e47 with the four\nStood high above the ocean shore.\nSugr\u00edva and the chiefs he spied,\nAnd raised his mighty voice and cried:\n\u201cFrom R\u00e1va\u1e47, lord of giants, I\nHis brother, named Vibhisha\u1e47, fly.\nFrom Janasth\u00e1n he stole the child\nOf Janak by his art beguiled,\nAnd in his palace locked and barred\nSurrounds her with a R\u00e1kshas guard.\nI bade him, plied with varied lore,\nHis hapless prisoner restore.\nBut he, by Fate to ruin sent,\nNo credence to my counsel lent,\nMad as the fevered wretch who sees\nAnd scorns the balm to bring him ease.\nHe scorned the sage advice I gave,\nHe spurned me like a base-born slave.\nI left my children and my wife,\nAnd fly to Raghu\u2019s son for life.\nI pray thee, V\u00e1nar chieftain, speed\nTo him who saves in hour of need,\nAnd tell him famed in distant lands\nThat suppliant here Vibhisha\u1e47 stands.\u201d\n\n  The R\u00e1kshas ceased: Sugr\u00edva hied\nTo Raghu\u2019s noble son and cried:\n\n  \u201cA stranger from the giant host,\nBorne o\u2019er the sea, has reached the coast;\nA secret foe, he comes to slay,\nAs owls attack their heedless prey.\n\u2019Tis thine, O King, in time of need\nTo watch, to counsel, and to lead,\nOur V\u00e1nar legions to dispose,\nAnd guard us from our crafty foes.\nVibhisha\u1e47 from the giants\u2019 isle,\nKing R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s brother, comes with guile\nAnd, feigning from his king to flee,\nSeeks refuge, Raghu\u2019s son, with thee.\nArise, O R\u00e1ma, and prevent\nBy bold attack his dark intent.\nWho comes in friendly guise prepared\nTo slay thee by his arts ensnared.\u201d\n\n  Thus urged Sugr\u00edva famed for lore\nOf moving words, and spoke no more.\nThen R\u00e1ma thus in turn addressed\nThe bold Han\u00fam\u00e1n and the rest:\n\u201cChiefs of the V\u00e1nar legions each\nOf you heard Sugr\u00edva\u2019s speech.\nWhat think ye now in time of fear,\nWhen peril and distress are near,\nIn every doubt the wise depend\nFor counsel on a faithful friend.\u201d\n\n  They heard his gracious words, and then\nSpake reverent to the lord of men:\n\u201cO Raghu\u2019s son, thou knowest well\nAll things of heaven and earth and hell.\n\u2019Tis but thy friendship bids us speak\nThe counsel R\u00e1ma need not seek.\nSo duteous, brave, and true art thou,\nHeroic, faithful to thy vow.\nDeep in the scriptures, trained and tried,\nStill in thy friends wilt thou confide.\nLet each of us in turn impart\nThe secret counsel of his heart,\nAnd strive to win his chief\u2019s assent,\nBy force of wisest argument.\u201d\n\n  They ceased and Angad thus began:\n\u201cWith jealous eye the stranger scan:\nNot yet with trusting heart receive\nVibhisha\u1e47, nor his tale believe.\nThese giants wandering far and wide\nTheir evil nature falsely hide,\nAnd watching with malignant skill\nAssail us when we fear no ill.\nWell ponder every hope and fear\nUntil thy doubtful course be clear;\nThen own his merit or detect\nHis guile, and welcome or reject.\u201d\n\n  Then \u015aarabha the bold and brave\nIn turn his prudent sentence gave:\n\u201cYea, R\u00e1ma, send a skilful spy\nWith keenest tact to test and try.\nThen let the stranger, as is just,\nObtain or be refused thy trust.\u201d\n\n  Then he whose heart was rich in store\nOf scripture\u2019s life-directing lore,\nKing J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n, stood forth and cried:\n\u201cSuspect, suspect a foe allied\nWith R\u00e1va\u1e47 lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle,\nAnd R\u00e1kshas sin and R\u00e1kshas guile.\u201d\n\n  Then Mainda, wisest chief, who knew\nThe wrong, the right, the false, the true,\nPondered a while, then silence broke,\nAnd thus his sober counsel spoke:\n\n  \u201cLet one with gracious speech draw near\nAnd gently charm Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s ear,\nTill he the soothing witchery feel\nAnd all his secret heart reveal.\nSo thou his aims and hopes shalt know,\nAnd hail the friend or shun the foe.\u201d\n\n  \u201cNot he,\u201d Han\u00fam\u00e1n cried, \u201cnot he\nWho taught the Gods(928) may rival thee,\nSupreme in power of quickest sense,\nFirst in the art of eloquence.\nBut hear me soothly speak, O King,\nAnd learn the hope to which I cling.\nVibhisha\u1e47 comes no crafty spy:\nUrged by his brother\u2019s fault to fly.\nWith righteous soul that loathes the sin,\nHe fled from Lank\u00e1 and his kin.\nIf strangers question, doubt will rise\nAnd chill the heart of one so wise.\nMarred by distrust the parle will end,\nAnd thou wilt lose a faithful friend.\nNor let it seem so light a thing\nTo sound a stranger\u2019s heart, O King.\nAnd he, I ween, whate\u2019er he say,\nWill ne\u2019er an evil thought betray.\nHe comes a friend in happy time,\nLoathing his brother for his crime.\nHis ear has heard thine old renown,\nThe might that struck King B\u00e1li down,\nAnd set Sugr\u00edva on the throne.\nAnd looking now to thee alone\nHe comes thy matchless aid to win\nAnd punish R\u00e1va\u1e47 for his sin.\nThus have I tried thy heart to move,\nAnd thus Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s truth to prove.\nStill in his friendship I confide;\nBut ponder, wisest, and decide.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XVIII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s rising doubt was stilled,\nAnd friendly thoughts his bosom filled.\nThus, deep in Scripture\u2019s lore, he spake:\n\u201cThe suppliant will I ne\u2019er forsake,\nNor my protecting aid refuse\nWhen one in name of friendship sues.\nThough faults and folly blot his fame,\nPity and help he still may claim.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: Sugr\u00edva bowed his head\nAnd pondered for a while, and said:\n\n  \u201cPast number be his faults or few,\nWhat think ye of the R\u00e1kshas who,\nWhen threatening clouds of danger rise,\nDeserts his brother\u2019s side and flies?\nSay, V\u00e1nars, who may hope to find\nTrue friendship in his faithless kind?\u201d\n\n  The son of Raghu heard his speech:\nHe cast a hasty look on each\nOf those brave V\u00e1nar chiefs, and while\nUpon his lips there played a smile,\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 turned and thus expressed\nThe thoughts that moved his gallant breast:\n\u201cWell versed in Scripture\u2019s lore, and sage\nAnd duly reverent to age,\nIs he, with long experience stored,\nWho counsels like this V\u00e1nar lord.\nYet here, methinks, for searching eyes\nSome deeper, subtler matter lies.\nTo you and all the world are known\nThe perils of a monarch\u2019s throne,\nWhile foe and stranger, kith and kin\nBy his misfortune trust to win.\nBy hope of such advantage led,\nVibhisha\u1e47 o\u2019er the sea has fled.\nHe in his brother\u2019s stead would reign,\nAnd our alliance seeks to gain;\nAnd we his offer may embrace,\nA stranger and of alien race.\nBut if he comes a spy and foe,\nWhat power has he to strike a blow\nIn furtherance of his close design?\nWhat is his strength compared with mine?\nAnd can I, V\u00e1nar King, forget\nThe great, the universal debt,\nEver to aid and welcome those\nWho pray for shelter, friends or foes?\nHast thou not heard the deathless praise\nWon by the dove in olden days,\nWho conquering his fear and hate\nWelcomed the slayer of his mate,\nAnd gave a banquet, to refresh\nThe weary fowler, of his flesh?\nNow hear me, V\u00e1nar King, rehearse\nWhat Ka\u1e47du(929) spoke in ancient verse,\nSaint Ka\u1e47va\u2019s son who loved the truth\nAnd clave to virtue from his youth:\n\u201cStrike not the suppliant when he stands\nAnd asks thee with beseeching hands\nFor shelter: strike him not although\nHe were thy father\u2019s mortal foe.\nNo, yield him, be he proud or meek,\nThe shelter which he comes to seek,\nAnd save thy foeman, if the deed\nShould cost thy life, in desperate need.\u201d\nAnd shall I hear the wretched cry,\nAnd my protecting aid deny?\nShall I a suppliant\u2019s prayer refuse,\nAnd heaven and glory basely lose?\nNo, I will do for honour sake\nE\u2019en as the holy Ka\u1e47du spake,\nPreserve a hero\u2019s name from stain,\nAnd bliss in heaven and glory gain.\nBound by a solemn vow I sware\nThat all my saving help should share\nWho sought me in distress and cried,\n\u201cThou art my hope, and none beside.\u201d\nThen go, I pray thee, V\u00e1nar King,\nVibhisha\u1e47 to my presence bring,\nYea, were he R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s self, my vow\nForbids me to reject him now.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the V\u00e1nar king approved;\nAnd R\u00e1ma toward Vibhisha\u1e47 moved.\nSo moves, a brother God to greet,\nLord Indra from his heavenly seat.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XIX. Vibhishan\u2019s Counsel.\n\n\nWhen Raghu\u2019s son had owned his claim\nDown from the air Vibhisha\u1e47 came,\nAnd with his four attendants bent\nAt R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet most reverent.\n\n  \u201cO R\u00e1ma,\u201d thus he cried, \u201cin me\nVibhisha\u1e47, R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s brother see.\nBy him disgraced thine aid I seek,\nSure refuge of the poor and weak.\nFrom Lank\u00e1, friends, and wealth I fly,\nAnd reft of all on thee rely.\nOn thee, the wretch\u2019s firmest friend,\nMy kingdom, joys, and life depend.\u201d\n\n  With glance of favour R\u00e1ma eyed\nThe R\u00e1kshas chief and thus replied:\n\n  \u201cFirst from thy lips I fain would hear\nEach brighter hope, each darker fear.\nSpeak, stranger, that I well may know\nThe strength and weakness of the foe.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the R\u00e1kshas chief obeyed,\nAnd thus in turn his answer made:\n\n  \u201cO Prince, the Self-existent gave\nThis boon to R\u00e1va\u1e47; he may brave\nAll foes in fight; no fiend or snake,\nGandharva, God, his life may take.\nHis brother Kumbhakar\u1e47a vies\nIn might with him who rules the skies.\nThe captain of his armies\u2014fame\nPerhaps has taught the warrior\u2019s name\u2014\nIs terrible Prahasta, who\nKing Ma\u1e47ibhadra\u2019s(930) self o\u2019erthrew.\nWhere is the warrior found to face\nYoung Indraj\u00edt, when armed with brace\nAnd guard(931) and bow he stands in mail\nAnd laughs at spear and arrowy hail?\nWithin his city Lank\u00e1 dwell\nTen million giants fierce and fell,\nWho wear each varied shape at will\nAnd eat the flesh of those they kill.\nThese hosts against the Gods he led,\nAnd heavenly might discomfited.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma cried: \u201cI little heed\nGigantic strength or doughty deed.\nIn spite of all their might has done\nThe king, the captain, and the son\nShall fall beneath my fury dead,\nAnd thou shalt reign in R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s stead.\nHe, though in depths of earth he dwell,\nOr seek protection down in hell,\nOr kneel before the Sire supreme,\nHis forfeit life shall ne\u2019er redeem.\nYea, by my brothers\u2019 lives I swear,\nI will not to my home repair\nTill R\u00e1va\u1e47 and his kith and kin\nHave paid in death the price of sin.\u201d\n\n  Vibhisha\u1e47 bowed his head and cried:\n\u201cThy conquering army will I guide\nTo storm the city of the foe,\nAnd aid the tyrant\u2019s overthrow.\u201d\nThus spake Vibhisha\u1e47: R\u00e1ma pressed\nThe R\u00e1kshas chieftain to his breast,\nAnd cried to Lakshma\u1e47: \u201cHaste and bring\nSea-water for the new-made king.\u201d\nHe spoke, and o\u2019er Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s head\nThe consecrating drops were shed\nMid shouts that hailed with one accord\nThe giants\u2019 king and Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord.\n\n  \u201cIs there no way,\u201d Han\u00fam\u00e1n cried,\n\u201cNo passage o\u2019er the boisterous tide?\nHow may we lead the V\u00e1nar host\nIn triumph to the farther coast?\u201d\n\u201cThus,\u201d said Vibhisha\u1e47, \u201cI advise:\nLet Raghu\u2019s son in suppliant guise\nEntreat the mighty Sea to lend\nHis succour and this cause befriend.\nHis channels, as the wise have told,\nBy Sagar\u2019s sons were dug of old,(932)\nNor will high-thoughted Ocean scorn\nA prince of Sagar\u2019s lineage born.\u201d\n\n  He ceased; the prudent counsel won\nThe glad assent of Raghu\u2019s son.\nThen on the ocean shore a bed\nOf tender sacred grass was spread,\nWhere R\u00e1ma at the close of day\nLike fire upon an altar lay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XX. The Spies.\n\n\n\u015a\u00e1rd\u00fala, R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s spy, surveyed\nThe legions on the strand arrayed.\nAnd bore, his bosom racked with fear,\nThese tidings to the monarch\u2019s ear:\n\n  \u201cThey come, they come. A rushing tide,\nTen leagues they spread from side to side,\nAnd on to storm thy city press,\nFierce rovers of the wilderness.\nRich in each princely power and grace,\nThe pride of Da\u015baratha\u2019s race,\nR\u00e1ma and Lakshma\u1e47 lead their bands,\nAnd halt them on the ocean sands.\nO Monarch, rise, this peril meet;\nRisk not the danger of defeat.\nFirst let each wiser art be tried;\nBribe them, or win them, or divide.\u201d\nSuch was the counsel of the spy:\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 called to \u015auka: \u201cFly,\nSugr\u00edva lord of V\u00e1nars seek,\nAnd thus my kingly message speak:\n\u201cGreat power and might and fame are thine,\nBrave scion of a royal line,\nKing Riksharajas\u2019 son, in thee\nA brother and a friend I see.\nHow wronged by me canst thou complain?\nWhat profit here pretend to gain?\nIf from the wood the wife I stole\nOf R\u00e1ma of the prudent soul,\nWhat cause hast thou to mourn the theft?\nThou art not injured or bereft.\nReturn, O King, thy steps retrace\nAnd seek thy mountain dwelling-place.\nNo, never may thy hosts within\nMy Lank\u00e1\u2019s walls a footing win.\nA mighty town whose strength defies\nThe gathered armies of the skies.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: obedient \u015auka heard;\nWith wings and plumage of a bird\nHe rose in eager speed and through\nThe air upon his errand flew.\nBorne o\u2019er the sea with rapid wing\nHe stood above the V\u00e1nar king,\nAnd spoke aloud, sublime in air,\nThe message he was charged to bear.\nThe V\u00e1nar heard the words he spoke,\nAnd quick redoubling stroke on stroke\nOn head and pinions hemmed him round\nAnd bore him struggling to the ground.\nThe R\u00e1kshas wounded and distressed\nThese words to Raghu\u2019s son addressed:\n\n  \u201cQuick, quick! This V\u00e1nar host restrain,\nFor heralds never must be slain.\nTo him alone, a wretch untrue,\nThe punishment of death is due\nWho leaves his master\u2019s speech unsaid\nAnd speaks another in its stead.\u201d\nMoved by the suppliant speech and prayer\nUp sprang the prince and cried, forbear.\nSaved from his wild assailant\u2019s blows\nAgain the R\u00e1kshas herald rose\nAnd borne on light wings to the sky\nAddressed Sugr\u00edva from on high:\n\u201cO V\u00e1nar Monarch, chief endued\nWith power and wonderous fortitude,\nWhat answer is my king, the fear\nAnd scourge of weeping worlds, to hear?\u201d\n\u201cGo tell thy lord,\u201d Sugr\u00edva cried,\n\u201cThou, R\u00e1ma\u2019s foe, art thus defied.\nHis arm the guilty B\u00e1li slew;\nThus, tyrant, shalt thou perish too.\nThy sons, thy friends, proud King, and all\nThy kith and kin with thee shall fall;\nAnd, emptied of the giant\u2019s brood,\nBurnt Lank\u00e1 be a solitude.\nFly to the Sun-God\u2019s pathway, go\nAnd hide thee deep in hell below:\nIn vain from R\u00e1ma shalt thou flee\nThough heavenly warriors fight for thee.\nThine arm subdued, securely bold,\nThe Vulture-king infirm and old:\nBut will thy puny strength avail\nWhen Raghu\u2019s wrathful sons assail?\nA captive in thy palace lies\nThe lady of the lotus eyes:\nThou knowest not how fierce and strong\nIs he whom thou hast dared to wrong.\nThe best of Raghu\u2019s lineage, he\nWhose conquering hand shall punish thee.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and Angad raised a cry;\n\u201cThis is no herald but a spy.\nAbove thee from his airy post\nHis rapid eye surveyed our host,\nWhere with advantage he might scan\nOur gathered strength from rear to van.\nBind him, V\u00e1nars, bind the spy,\nNor let him back to Lank\u00e1 fly.\u201d\n\n  They hurled the R\u00e1kshas to the ground,\nThey grasped his neck, his pinions bound,\nAnd firmly held him while in vain\nHis voice was lifted to complain.\nBut R\u00e1ma\u2019s heart inclined to spare,\nHe listened to his plaint and prayer,\nAnd cried aloud: \u201cO V\u00e1nars, cease;\nThe captive from his bonds release.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXI. Ocean Threatened.\n\n\nHis hands in reverence R\u00e1ma raised\nAnd southward o\u2019er the ocean gazed;\nThen on the sacred grass that made\nHis lowly couch his limbs he laid.\nHis head on that strong arm reclined\nWhich S\u00edt\u00e1, best of womankind,\nHad loved in happier days to hold\nWith soft arms decked with pearls and gold.\nThen rising from his bed of grass,\n\u201cThis day,\u201d he cried, \u201cthe host shall pass\nTriumphant to the southern shore,\nOr Ocean\u2019s self shall be no more.\u201d\nThus vowing in his constant breast\nAgain he turned him to his rest,\nAnd there, his eyes in slumber closed,\nSilent beside the sea reposed.\nThrice rose the Day-God thrice he set,\nThe lord of Ocean came not yet,\nThrice came the night, but Raghu\u2019s son\nNo answer by his service won.\nTo Lakshma\u1e47 thus the hero cried,\nHis eyes aflame with wrath and pride:\n\n  \u201cIn vain the softer gifts that grace\nThe good are offered to the base.\nLong-suffering, patience, gentle speech\nTheir thankless hearts can never reach.\nThe world to him its honour pays\nWhose ready tongue himself can praise,\nWho scorns the true, and hates the right,\nWhose hand is ever raised to smite.\nEach milder art is tried in vain:\nIt wins no glory, but disdain.\nAnd victory owns no softer charm\nThan might which nerves a warrior\u2019s arm.\nMy humble suit is still denied\nBy Ocean\u2019s overweening pride.\nThis day the monsters of the deep\nIn throes of death shall wildly leap.\nMy shafts shall rend the serpents curled\nIn caverns of the watery world,\nDisclose each sunless depth and bare\nThe tangled pearl and coral there.\nAway with mercy! at a time\nLike this compassion is a crime.\nWelcome, the battle and the foe!\nMy bow! my arrows and my bow!\nThis day the V\u00e1nars\u2019 feet shall tread\nThe conquered Sea\u2019s exhausted bed,\nAnd he who never feared before\nShall tremble to his farthest shore.\u201d\n\n  Red flashed his eyes with angry glow:\nHe stood and grasped his mighty bow,\nTerrific as the fire of doom\nWhose quenchless flames the world consume.\nHis clanging cord the archer drew,\nAnd swift the fiery arrows flew\nFierce as the flashing levin sent\nBy him who rules the firmament.\nDown through the startled waters sped\nEach missile with its flaming head.\nThe foamy billows rose and sank,\nAnd dashed upon the trembling bank.\nSea monsters of tremendous form\nWith crash and roar of thunder storm.\nStill the wild waters rose and fell\nCrowned with white foam and pearl and shell.\nEach serpent, startled from his rest,\nRaised his fierce eyes and glowing crest.\nAnd prisoned D\u00e1navs(933) where they dwelt\nIn depths below the terror felt.\nAgain upon his string he laid\nA flaming shaft, but Lakshma\u1e47 stayed\nHis arm, with gentle reasoning tried\nTo soothe his angry mood, and cried:\n\u201cBrother, reflect: the wise control\nThe rising passions of the soul.\nLet Ocean grant, without thy threat,\nThe boon on which thy heart is set.\nThat gracious lord will ne\u2019er refuse\nWhen R\u00e1ma son of Raghu sues.\u201d\nHe ceased: and voices from the air\nFell clear and loud, Spare, R\u00e1ma, spare.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXII. Ocean Threatened.\n\n\nWith angry menace R\u00e1ma, best\nOf Raghu\u2019s sons, the Sea addressed:\n\u201cWith fiery flood of arrowy rain\nThy channels will I dry and drain.\nAnd I and all the V\u00e1nar host\nWill reach on foot the farther coast.\nThou shalt not from destruction save\nThe creatures of the teeming wave,\nAnd lapse of time shall ne\u2019er efface\nThe memory of the dire disgrace.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the warrior, and prepared\nThe mortal shaft which never spared,\nKnown mystic weapon, by the name\nOf Brahm\u00e1, red with quenchless flame.\nGreat terror, as he strained the bow,\nStruck heaven above and earth below.\nThrough echoing skies the thunder pealed,\nAnd startled mountains rocked and reeled,\nThe earth was black with sudden night\nAnd heaven was blotted from the sight.\nThen ever and anon the glare\nOf meteors shot through murky air,\nAnd with a wild terrific sound\nRed lightnings struck the trembling ground.\nIn furious gusts the fierce wind blew:\nTall trees it shattered and o\u2019erthrew,\nAnd, smiting with a giant\u2019s stroke,\nHuge masses from the mountain broke.\nA cry of terror long and shrill\nCame from each valley, plain, and hill.\nEach ruined dale, each riven peak\nRe-echoed with a wail or shriek.\n\n  While Raghu\u2019s son undaunted gazed,\nThe waters of the deep were raised,\nAnd, still uplifted more and more,\nLeapt in wild flood upon the shore.\nStill R\u00e1ma looked upon the tide\nAnd kept his post unterrified.\nThen from the seething flood upreared\nMajestic Ocean\u2019s form appeared,\nAs rising from his eastern height\nSprings through the sky the Lord of Light.\nAttendant on their monarch came\nSea serpents with their eyes aflame.\nLike lazulite mid burning gold\nHis form was wondrous to behold.\nBright with each fairest precious stone\nA chain about his neck was thrown.\nCalm shone his lotus eyes beneath\nThe blossoms of his heavenly wreath,\nAnd many a pearl and sea-born gem\nFlashed in the monarch\u2019s diadem.\nThere Gang\u00e1, tributary queen,\nAnd Sindhu(934) by his lord, were seen,\nAnd every stream and brook renowned\nIn ancient story girt him round.\nThen, as the waters rose and swelled,\nThe king with suppliant hands upheld,\nHis glorious head to R\u00e1ma bent\nAnd thus addressed him reverent:\n\u201cAir, ether, fire, earth, water, true\nTo nature\u2019s will, their course pursue;\nAnd I, as ancient laws ordain,\nUnfordable must still remain.\nYet, Raghu\u2019s son, my counsel hear:\nI ne\u2019er for love or hope or fear\nWill pile my waters in a heap\nAnd leave a pathway through the deep.\nStill shall my care for thee provide\nAn easy passage o\u2019er the tide,\nAnd like a city\u2019s paven street\nShall be the road beneath thy feet.\u201d\nHe ceased: and R\u00e1ma spoke again:\n\u201cThis spell is ne\u2019er invoked in vain.\nWhere shall the magic shaft, to spend\nThe fury of its might, descend?\u201d\n\u201cShoot,\u201d Ocean cried, \u201cthine arrow forth\nWith all its fury to the north,\nWhere sacred Drumakulya lies,\nWhose glory with thy glory vies.\nThere dwells a wild Abh\u00edra(935) race,\nAs vile in act as foul of face,\nFierce Dasyus(936) who delight in ill,\nAnd drink my tributary rill.\nMy soul no longer may endure\nTheir neighbourhood and touch impure.\nAt these, O son of Raghu, aim\nThine arrow with the quenchless flame.\u201d\n\n  Swift from the bow, as R\u00e1ma drew\nHis cord, the fiery arrow flew.\nEarth groaned to feel the wound, and sent\nA rush of water through the rent;\nAnd famed for ever is the well\nOf Vra\u1e47a(937) where the arrow fell.\nThen every brook and lake beside\nThroughout the region R\u00e1ma dried.\nBut yet he gave a boon to bless\nAnd fertilize the wilderness:\nNo fell disease should taint the air,\nAnd sheep and kine should prosper there:\nEarth should produce each pleasant root,\nThe stately trees should bend with fruit;\nOil, milk, and honey should abound,\nAnd fragrant herbs should clothe the ground.\nThen spake the king of brooks and seas\nTo Raghu\u2019s son in words like these:\n\u201cNow let a wondrous task be done\nBy Nala, Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s son,\nWho, born of one of V\u00e1nar race,\nInherits by his father\u2019s grace\nA share of his celestial art.\nCall Nala to perform his part,\nAnd he, divinely taught and skilled,\nA bridge athwart the sea shall build.\u201d\n\n  He spoke and vanished. Nala, best\nOf V\u00e1nar chiefs, the king addressed:\n\u201cO\u2019er the deep sea where monsters play\nA bridge, O R\u00e1ma, will I lay;\nFor, sharer of my father\u2019s skill,\nMine is the power and mine the will.\n\u2019Tis vain to try each gentler art\nTo bribe and soothe the thankless heart;\nIn vain on such is mercy spent;\nIt yields to naught but punishment.\nThrough fear alone will Ocean now\nA passage o\u2019er his waves allow.\nMy mother, ere she bore her son,\nThis boon from Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1 won:\n\u201cO Mandar\u00ed, thy child shall be\nIn skill and glory next to me.\u201d\nBut why unbidden should I fill\nThine ear with praises of my skill?\nCommand the V\u00e1nar hosts to lay\nFoundations for the bridge to-day.\u201d\n\n  He spoke: and swift at R\u00e1ma\u2019s hest\nUp sprang the V\u00e1nars from their rest,\nThe mandate of the king obeyed\nAnd sought the forest\u2019s mighty shade.\nUnrooted trees to earth they threw,\nAnd to the sea the timber drew.\nThe stately palm was bowed and bent,\nA\u015bokas from the ground were rent,\nAnd towering S\u00e1ls and light bamboos,\nAnd trees with flowers of varied hues,\nWith loveliest creepers wreathed and crowned,\nShook, reeled, and fell upon the ground.\nWith mighty engines piles of stone\nAnd seated hills were overthrown:\nUnprisoned waters sprang on high,\nIn rain descending from the sky:\nAnd ocean with a roar and swell\nHeaved wildly when the mountains fell.\nThen the great bridge of wondrous strength\nWas built, a hundred leagues in length.\nRocks huge as autumn clouds bound fast\nWith cordage from the shore were cast,\nAnd fragments of each riven hill,\nAnd trees whose flowers adorned them still.\nWild was the tumult, loud the din\nAs ponderous rocks went thundering in.\nEre set of sun, so toiled each crew,\nTen leagues and four the structure grew;\nThe labours of the second day\nGave twenty more of ready way,\nAnd on the fifth, when sank the sun,\nThe whole stupendous work was done.\nO\u2019er the broad way the V\u00e1nars sped,\nNor swayed it with their countless tread.\nExultant on the ocean strand\nVibhisha\u1e47 stood, and, mace in hand,\nLonged eager for the onward way,\nAnd chafed impatient at delay.\nThen thus to R\u00e1ma trained and tried\nIn battle King Sugr\u00edva cried:\n\u201cCome, Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s broad back ascend;\nLet Angad help to Lakshma\u1e47 lend.\nThese high above the sea shall bear\nTheir burthen through the ways of air.\u201d\n\n  So, with Sugr\u00edva, borne o\u2019erhead\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s sons the legions led.\nBehind, the V\u00e1nar hosts pursued\nTheir march in endless multitude.\nSome skimmed the surface of the wave,\nTo some the air a passage gave.\nAmid their ceaseless roar the sound\nOf Ocean\u2019s fearful voice was drowned,\nAs o\u2019er the bridge by Nala planned\nThey hastened on to Lank\u00e1\u2019s strand,\nWhere, by the pleasant brooks, mid trees\nLoaded with fruit, they took their ease.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIII. The Omens.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, peerless in the skill\nThat marks each sign of good and ill,\nStrained his dear brother to his breast,\nAnd thus with prudent words addressed:\n\u201cNow, Lakshma\u1e47, by the water\u2019s side\nIn fruitful groves the host divide,\nThat warriors of each woodland race\nMay keep their own appointed place.\nDire is the danger: loss of friends,\nOf V\u00e1nars and of bears, impends.\nDistained with dust the breezes blow,\nAnd earth is shaken from below.\nThe tall hills rock from foot to crown,\nAnd stately trees come toppling down.\nIn threatening shape, with voice of fear,\nThe clouds like cannibals appear,\nAnd rain in fitful torrents, red\nWith sanguinary drops, is shed.\nLong streaks of lurid light invest\nThe evening skies from east to west.\nAnd from the sun at times a ball\nOf angry fire is seen to fall.\nFrom every glen and brake is heard\nThe boding voice of beast and bird:\nFrom den and lair night-prowlers run\nAnd shriek against the falling sun.\nUp springs the moon, but hot and red\nKills the sad night with woe and dread;\nNo gentle lustre, but the gloom\nThat heralds universal doom.\nA cloud of dust and vapour mars\nThe beauty of the evening stars,\nAnd wild and fearful is the sky\nAs though the wreck of worlds were nigh.\nAround our heads in boding flight\nWheel hawk and vulture, crow and kite;\nAnd every bird of happy note\nShrieks terror from his altered throat.\nSword, spear and shaft shall strew the plain\nDyed red with torrents of the slain.\nTo-day the V\u00e1nar troops shall close\nAround the city of our foes.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIV. The Spy\u2019s Return.\n\n\nAs shine the heavens with autumn\u2019s moon\nRefulgent in the height of noon,\nSo shone with light which R\u00e1ma gave\nThat army of the bold and brave,\nAs from the sea it marched away\nIn war\u2019s magnificent array,\nAnd earth was shaken by the beat\nAnd trampling of unnumbered feet.\nThen to the giants\u2019 ears were borne,\nThe mingled notes of drum and horn,\nAnd clash of tambours smote the sky,\nAnd shouting and the battle cry.\nThe sound of martial strains inspired\nEach chieftain, and his bosom fired:\nWhile giants from their walls replied,\nAnd answering shouts the foe defied,\nThen R\u00e1ma looked on Lank\u00e1 where\nBright banners floated in the air,\nAnd, pierced with anguish at the view,\nHis loving thoughts to S\u00edt\u00e1 flew.\n\u201cThere, prisoned by the giant, lies\nMy lady of the tender eyes,\nLike Rohi\u1e47\u00ed the queen of stars\nO\u2019erpowered by the fiery Mars.\u201d\nThen turned he to his brother chief\nAnd cried in agony of grief:\n\u201cSee on the hill, divinely planned\nAnd built by Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s hand,\nThe towers and domes of Lank\u00e1 rise\nIn peerless beauty to the skies.\nBright from afar the city shines\nWith gleam of palaces and shrines,\nLike pale clouds through the region spread\nBy Vish\u1e47u\u2019s self inhabited.\nFair gardens grow, and woods between\nThe stately domes are fresh and green,\nWhere trees their bloom and fruit display,\nAnd sweet birds sing on every spray.\nEach bird is mad with joy, and bees\nSing labouring in the bloomy trees\nOn branches by the breezes bowed,\nWhere the gay Ko\u00efl\u2019s voice is loud.\u201d\n\n  This said, he ranged with warlike art\nEach body of the host apart.\n\u201cThere in the centre,\u201d R\u00e1ma cried,\n\u201cBe Angad\u2019s place by N\u00edla\u2019s side.\nLet Rishabh of impetuous might\nBe lord and leader on the right,\nAnd Gandham\u00e1dan, next in rank,\nBe captain of the farther flank.\nLakshma\u1e47 and I the hosts will lead,\nAnd J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n of ursine breed,\nWith bold Sushe\u1e47 unused to fear,\nAnd Vegadar\u015b\u00ed, guide the rear.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spoke: the chiefs obeyed;\nAnd all the V\u00e1nar hosts arrayed\nShowed awful as the autumn sky\nWhen clouds embattled form on high.\nTheir arms were mighty trees o\u2019erthrown,\nAnd massy blocks of mountain stone.\nOne hope in every warlike breast,\nOne firm resolve, they onward pressed,\nTo die in fight or batter down\nThe walls and towers of Lank\u00e1\u2019s town.\n\n  Those marshalled legions R\u00e1ma eyed,\nAnd thus to King Sugr\u00edva cried:\n\u201cNow, Monarch, ere the hosts proceed,\nLet \u015auka, R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s spy, be freed.\u201d\nHe spoke: the V\u00e1nar gave consent\nAnd loosed him from imprisonment:\nAnd \u015auka, trembling and afraid,\nHis homeward way to R\u00e1va\u1e47 made.\nLoud laughed the lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle:\n\u201cWhere hast thou stayed this weary while?\nWhy is thy plumage marred, and why\nDo twisted cords thy pinions tie?\nSay, comest thou in evil plight\nThe victim of the V\u00e1nars\u2019 spite?\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the spy his fear controlled,\nAnd to the king his story told:\n\u201cI reached the ocean\u2019s distant shore,\nThy message to the king I bore.\nIn sudden wrath the V\u00e1nars rose,\nThey struck me down with furious blows;\nThey seized me helpless on the ground,\nMy plumage rent, my pinions bound.\nThey would not, headlong in their ire,\nConsider, listen, or inquire;\nSo fickle, wrathful, rough and rude\nIs the wild forest multitude.\nThere, marshalling the V\u00e1nar bands,\nKing R\u00e1ma with Sugr\u00edva stands,\nR\u00e1ma the matchless warrior, who\nVir\u00e1dha and Kabandha slew,\nKhara, and countless giants more,\nAnd tracks his queen to Lank\u00e1\u2019s shore.\nA bridge athwart the sea was cast,\nAnd o\u2019er it have his legions passed.\nHark! heralded by horns and drums\nThe terrible avenger comes.\nE\u2019en now the giants\u2019 isle he fills\nWith warriors huge as clouds and hills,\nAnd burning with vindictive hate\nWill thunder soon at Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate.\nYield or oppose him: choose between\nThy safety and the Maithil queen.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the tyrant\u2019s eyeballs blazed\nWith fury as his voice he raised:\n\u201cNo, if the dwellers of the sky,\nGandharvas, fiends assail me, I\nWill keep the Maithil lady still,\nNor yield her back for fear of ill.\nWhen shall my shafts with iron hail\nMy foeman, Raghu\u2019s son, assail,\nThick as the bees with eager wing\nBeat on the flowery trees of spring?\nO, let me meet my foe at length,\nAnd strip him of his vaunted strength,\nFierce as the sun who shines afar\nStealing the light of every star.\nStrong as the sea\u2019s impetuous might\nMy ways are like the tempest\u2019s flight;\nBut R\u00e1ma knows not this, or he\nIn terror from my face would flee.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXV. R\u00e1van\u2019s Spies.(938)\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma and the host he led\nAcross the sea had safely sped,\nThus R\u00e1va\u1e47, moved by wrath and pride,\nTo \u015auka and to S\u00e1ra\u1e47 cried:\n\u201cO counsellors, the V\u00e1nar host\nHas passed the sea from coast to coast,\nAnd Da\u015baratha\u2019s son has wrought\nA wondrous deed surpassing thought.\nAnd now in truth I needs must know\nThe strength and number of the foe.\nGo ye, to R\u00e1ma\u2019s host repair\nAnd count me all the legions there.\nLearn well what power each captain leads\nHis name and fame for warlike deeds.\nLearn by what artist\u2019s wondrous aid\nThat bridge athwart the sea was made;\nLearn how the V\u00e1nar host came o\u2019er\nAnd halted on the island shore.\nMark R\u00e1ma son of Raghu well;\nHis valour, strength, and weapons tell.\nWatch his advisers one by one,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, Raghu\u2019s younger son.\nLearn with observant eyes, and bring\n\u201cUnerring tidings to your king.\n\n  He ceased: then swift in V\u00e1nar guise\nForth on their errand sped the spies.\nThey reached the V\u00e1nars, and, dismayed,\nTheir never-ending lines surveyd:\nNor would they try, in mere despair,\nTo count the countless legions there,\nThat crowded valley, plain and hill,\nThat pressed about each cave and rill.\nThough sea-like o\u2019er the land were spread\nThe endless hosts which R\u00e1ma led,\nThe bridge by thousands yet was lined,\nAnd eager myriads pressed behind.\nBut sage Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s watchful eyes\nHad marked the giants in disguise.\nHe gave command the pair to seize,\nAnd told the tale in words like these:\n\n  \u201cO R\u00e1ma these, well known erewhile,\nAre giant sons of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle,\nTwo counsellors of R\u00e1va\u1e47 sent\nTo watch the invading armament.\u201d\n\n  Vibhisha\u1e47 ceased: at R\u00e1ma\u2019s look\nThe R\u00e1kshas envoys quailed and shook;\nThen suppliant hand to hand they pressed\nAnd thus Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son addressed:\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, bear the truth we speak:\nOur monarch R\u00e1va\u1e47 bade us seek\nThe V\u00e1nar legions and survey\nTheir numbers, strength, and vast array.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, friend and hope and guide\nOf suffering creatures, thus replied:\n\n  \u201cNow giants, if your eyes have scanned\nOur armies, numbering every band,\nMarked lord and chief, and gazed their fill,\nReturn to R\u00e1va\u1e47 when ye will.\nIf aught remain, if aught anew\nYe fain would scan with closer view,\nVibhisha\u1e47, ready at your call,\nWill lead you forth and show you all.\nThink not of bonds and capture; fear\nNo loss of life, no peril here:\nFor, captive, helpless and unarmed,\nAn envoy never should be harmed.\nAgain to Lank\u00e1\u2019s town repair,\nSpeed to the giant monarch there,\nAnd be these words to R\u00e1va\u1e47 told,\nFierce brother of the Lord of Gold:\n\u201cNow, tyrant, tremble for thy sin:\nCall up thy friends, thy kith and kin,\nAnd let the power and might be seen\nWhich made thee bold to steal my queen.\nTo-morrow shall thy mournful eye\nBehold thy bravest warriors die,\nAnd Lank\u00e1\u2019s city, tower and wall,\nStruck by my fiery shafts, will fall.\nThen shall my vengeful blow descend\nIts rage on thee and thine to spend,\nFierce as the fiery bolt that flew\nFrom heaven against the D\u00e1nav crew,\nMid those rebellious demons sent\nBy him who rules the firmament.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son, and ceased:\nThe giants from their bonds released\nLauded the King with glad accord,\nAnd hasted homeward to their lord.\nBefore the tyrant side by side\n\u015auka and S\u00e1ra\u1e47 stood and cried:\n\u201cVibhisha\u1e47 seized us, King, and fain\nHis helpless captives would have slain.\nBut glorious R\u00e1ma saw us; he,\nGreat-hearted hero, made us free.\nThere in one spot our eyes beheld\nFour chiefs on earth unparalleled,\nWho with the guardian Gods may vie\nWho rule the regions of the sky.\nThere R\u00e1ma stood, the boast and pride\nOf Raghu\u2019s race, by Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side.\nThere stood the sage Vibhisha\u1e47, there\nSugr\u00edva strong beyond compare.\nThese four alone can batter down\nGate, rampart, wall, and Lank\u00e1\u2019s town.\nNay, R\u00e1ma matchless in his form,\nA single foe, thy town would storm:\nSo wondrous are his weapons, he\nNeeds not the succour of the three.\nWhy speak we of the countless train\nThat fills the valley, hill and plain,\nThe millions of the V\u00e1nar breed\nWhom R\u00e1ma and Sugr\u00edva lead?\nO King, be wise, contend no more,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 to her lord restore.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVI. The V\u00e1nar Chiefs.\n\n\n\u201cNot if the Gods in heaven who dwell,\nGandharvas, and the fiends of hell\nIn banded opposition rise\nAgainst me, will I yield my prize.\nStill trembling from the ungentle touch\nOf V\u00e1nar hands ye fear too much,\nAnd bid me, heedless of the shame,\nGive to her lord the Maithil dame.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the king in stern reproof;\nThen mounted to his palace roof\nAloft o\u2019er many a story raised,\nAnd on the lands beneath him gazed.\nThere by his faithful spies he stood\nAnd looked on sea and hill and wood.\nThere stretched before him far away\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 numberless array:\nScarce could the meadows\u2019 tender green\nBeneath their trampling feet be seen.\nHe looked a while with furious eye,\nThen questioned thus the nearer spy:\n\u201cBend, S\u00e1ra\u1e47, bend thy gaze, and show\nThe leaders of the V\u00e1nar foe.\nTell me their heroes\u2019 names, and teach\nThe valour, power and might of each.\u201d\n\n  Obedient S\u00e1ra\u1e47 eyed the van,\nThe leaders marked, and thus began:\n\u201cThat chief conspicuous at the head\nOf warriors in the forest bred,\nWho hither bends his ruthless eye\nAnd shouts his fearful battle cry:\nWhose voice with pealing thunder shakes\nAll Lank\u00e1, with the groves and lakes\nAnd hills that tremble at the sound,\nIs N\u00edla, for his might renowned:\nFirst of the V\u00e1nar lords controlled\nBy King Sugr\u00edva lofty-souled.\nHe who his mighty arm extends,\nAnd his fierce eye on Lank\u00e1 bends,\nIn stature like a stately tower,\nIn colour like a lotus flower,\nWho with his wild earth-shaking cries\nThee, R\u00e1va\u1e47, to the field defies,\nIs Angad, by Sugr\u00edva\u2019s care\nAnointed his imperial heir:\nIn wondrous strength, in martial fire\nPeer of King B\u00e1li\u2019s self, his sire;\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake in arms arrayed\nLike Varu\u1e47 called to \u015aakra\u2019s aid.\nBehind him, girt by warlike bands,\nNala the mighty V\u00e1nar stands,\nThe son of Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1, he\nWho built the bridge athwart the sea.\nLook farther yet, O King, and mark\nThat chieftain clothed in Sandal bark.\n\u2019Tis \u015aweta, famed among his peers,\nA sage whom all his race reveres.\nSee, in Sugr\u00edva\u2019s ear he speaks,\nThen, hasting back, his post reseeks,\nAnd turns his practised eye to view\nThe squadrons he has formed anew.\nNext Kumud stands who roamed of yore\nOn Gomat\u00ed\u2019s(939) delightful shore,\nFeared where the waving woods invest\nHis seat on Mount Sanrochan\u2019s crest.\nNext him a chieftain strong and dread,\nComes Cha\u1e47\u1e0da at his legions\u2019 head;\nExulting in his warrior might\nHe hastens, burning for the fight,\nAnd boasts that his unaided powers\nShall cast to earth thy walls and towers.\nMark, mark that chief of lion gait,\nWho views thee with a glance of hate\nAs though his very eyes would burn\nThe city walls to which they turn:\n\u2019Tis Rambha, V\u00e1nar king; he dwells\nIn Krish\u1e47agiri\u2019s tangled dells,\nWhere Vindhya\u2019s pleasant slopes are spread\nAnd fair Sudar\u015ban lifts his head.\nThere, listening with erected ears,\n\u015aarabha, mighty chief, appears.\nHis soul is burning for the strife,\nNor dreads the jeopardy of life.\nHe trembles as he moves, for ire,\nAnd bends around his glance of fire.\nNext, like a cloud that veils the skies,\nA chieftain of terrific size,\nConspicuous mid the V\u00e1nars, comes\nWith battle shout like rolling drums,\n\u2019Tis Panas, trained in war and tried,\nWho dwells on P\u00e1riy\u00e1tra\u2019s side.\nHe, far away, the chief who throws\nA glory o\u2019er the marshalled rows\nThat ranged behind their captain stand\nExulting on the ocean strand,\nIs Vinata the fierce in fight,\nPre\u00ebminent like Dardur\u2019s height.\nThat chieftain bending down to drink\nOn lovely Ve\u1e47\u00e1\u2019s verdant brink,\nIs Krathan; now he lifts his eyes\nAnd thee to mortal fray defies.\nNext Gavaya comes, whose haughty mind\nScorns all the warriors of his kind.\nHe comes to trample\u2014such his boast\u2014\nOn Lank\u00e1 with his single host.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVII. The V\u00e1nar Chiefs.\n\n\n\u201cYet more remain, brave chiefs who stake\nTheir noble lives for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake.\nSee, glorious, golden-coated, one\nWho glisters like the morning sun,\nWhom thousands of his race surround,\n\u2019Tis Hara for his strength renowned.\nNext comes a mighty chieftain, he\nWhose legions, armed with rock and tree,\nPress on, in numbers passing tale,\nThe ramparts of our town to scale.\nO R\u00e1va\u1e47, see the king advance\nTerrific with his fiery glance,\nGirt by the bravest of his train,\nMajestic as the God of Rain,\nParjanya, when his host of clouds\nAbout the king, embattled, crowds:\nOn Rikshav\u00e1n\u2019s high mountain nursed,\nIn Narmad\u00e1(940) he slakes his thirst,\nDh\u00famra, proud ursine chief, who leads\nWild warriors whom the forest breeds.\nHis brother, next in strength and age,\nIn J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n the famous sage.\nOf yore his might and skill he lent\nTo him who rules the firmament,\nAnd Indra\u2019s liberal boons repaid\nThe chieftain for the timely aid.\nThere like a gloomy cloud that flies\nBorne by the tempest through the skies,\nPram\u00e1th\u00ed stands: he roamed of yore\nThe forest wilds on Gang\u00e1\u2019s shore,\nWhere elephants were struck with dread\nAnd trembling at his coming fled.\nThere on his foes he loved to sate\nThe old hereditary hate.(941)\nLook, Gaja and Gav\u00e1ksha show\nTheir lust of battle with the foe.\nSee Nala burning for the fray,\nAnd N\u00edla chafing at delay.\nBehind the eager captains press\nWild hosts in numbers numberless,\nAnd each for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake would fall\nOr force his way through Lank\u00e1\u2019s wall.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXVIII. The Chieftains.\n\n\nThere S\u00e1ra\u1e47 ceased: then \u015auka broke\nThe silence and to R\u00e1va\u1e47 spoke:\n\u201cO Monarch, yonder chiefs survey:\nLike elephants in size are they,\nAnd tower like stately trees that grow\nWhere Gang\u00e1\u2019s nursing waters flow;\nYea, tall as mountain pines that fling\nLong shadows o\u2019er the snow-crowned king.\nThey all in wild Kishkindh\u00e1 dwell\nAnd serve their lord Sugr\u00edva well.\nThe Gods\u2019 and bright Gandharvas\u2019 seed,\nThey take each form that suits their need.\nNow farther look, O Monarch, where\nThose chieftains stand, a glorious pair,\nConspicuous for their godlike frames;\nDwivid and Mainda are their names.\nTheir lips the drink of heaven have known,\nAnd Brahm\u00e1 claims them for his own.\nThat chieftain whom thine eyes behold\nRefulgent like a hill of gold,\nBefore whose wrathful might the sea\nRoused from his rest would turn and flee,\nThe peerless V\u00e1nar, he who came\nTo Lank\u00e1 for the Maithil dame,\nThe Wind-God\u2019s son Hanum\u00e1n; thou\nHast seen him once, behold him now.\nStill nearer let thy glance be bent,\nAnd mark that prince pre\u00ebminent\nMid chieftains for his strength and size\nAnd splendour of his lotus eyes.\nFar through the worlds his virtues shine,\nThe glory of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line.\nThe path of truth he never leaves,\nAnd still through all to duty cleaves.\nDeep in the Vedas, skilled to wield\nThe mystic shafts to him revealed:\nWhose flaming darts to heaven ascend,\nAnd through the earth a passage rend:\nIn might like him who rules the sky;\nLike Y\u00e1ma, when his wrath grows high:\nWhose queen, the darling of his soul,\nThy magic art deceived and stole:\nThere royal R\u00e1ma stands and longs\nFor battle to avenge his wrongs.\nNear on his right a prince, in hue\nLike pure gold freshly burnished, view:\nBroad is his chest, his eye is red,\nHis black hair curls about his head:\n\u2019Tis Lakshma\u1e47, faithful friend, who shares\nHis brother\u2019s joys, his brother\u2019s cares.\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s side he loves to stand\nAnd serve him as his better hand,\nFor whose dear sake without a sigh\nThe warrior youth would gladly die.\nOn R\u00e1ma\u2019s left Vibhisha\u1e47 view,\nWith giants for his retinue:\nKing-making drops have dewed his head,\nAppointed monarch in thy stead.\nBehold that chieftain sternly still,\nHigh towering like a rooted hill,\nSupreme in power and pride of place,\nThe monarch of the V\u00e1nar race.\nRaised high above his woodland kind,\nIn might and glory, frame and mind,\nHis head above his host he shows\nConspicuous as the Lord of Snows.\nHis home is far from hostile eyes\nWhere deep in woods Kishkindh\u00e1 lies.\nA glistering chain which flowers bedeck\nWith burnished gold adorns his neck.\nQueen Fortune, loved by Gods and kings,\nTo him her chosen favourite clings.\nThat chain he owes to R\u00e1ma\u2019s grace,\nAnd T\u00e1r\u00e1 and his kingly place.\nIn him the great Sugr\u00edva know,\nWhom R\u00e1ma rescued from his foe.\u201d(942)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXIX. S\u00e1rd\u00fala Captured.\n\n\nThe giant viewed with earnest ken\nThe V\u00e1nars and the lords of men;\nThen thus, with grief and anger moved,\nIn bitter tone the spies reproved:\n\u201cCan faithful servants hope to please\nTheir master with such fates as these?\nOr hope ye with wild words to wring\nThe bosom of your lord and king?\nSuch words were better said by those\nWho come arrayed our mortal foes.\nIn vain your ears have heard the sage,\nAnd listened to the lore of age,\nUntaught, though lectured many a day,\nThe first great lesson, to obey,\n\u2019Tis marvel R\u00e1va\u1e47 reigns and rules\nWhose counsellors are blind and fools.\nHas death no terrors that ye dare\nTo tempt your monarch to despair,\nFrom whose imperial mandate flow\nDisgrace and honour, weal and woe?\nYea, forest trees, when flames are fanned\nAbout their scorching trunks, may stand;\nBut naught can set the sinner free\nWhen kings the punishment decree.\nI would not in mine anger spare\nThe traitorous foe-praising pair,\nBut years of faithful service plead\nFor pardon, and they shall not bleed.\nHenceforth to me be dead: depart,\nFar from my presence and my heart.\u201d\n\n  Thus spoke the angry king: the two\nCried, Long live R\u00e1va\u1e47, and withdrew,\nThe giant monarch turned and cried\nTo strong Mahodar at his side:\n\u201cGo thou, and spies more faithful bring.\nMore duteous to their lord the king.\u201d\n\n  Swift at his word Mahodar shed,\nAnd came returning at the head\nOf long tried messengers, who bent\nBefore their monarch reverent.\n\u201cGo quickly hence,\u201d said R\u00e1va\u1e47 \u201cscan\nWith keenest eyes the foeman\u2019s plan.\nLearn who, as nearest friends, advise\nAnd mould each secret enterprise.\nLearn when he wakes and goes to rest,\nSound every purpose of his breast.\nLearn what the prince intends to-day:\nWatch keenly all, and come away.\u201d\n\n  With joy they heard the words he said:\nThen with \u015a\u00e1rd\u00fala at their head\nAbout the giant king they went\nWith circling paces reverent.\nBy fair Suvela\u2019s grassy side\nThe chiefs of Raghu\u2019s race they spied,\nWhere, shaded by the waving wood,\nVibhisha\u1e47 and Sugr\u00edva stood.\nA while they rested there and viewed\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 countless multitude.\nVibhisha\u1e47 with observant eyes\nKnew at a glance the giant spies,\nAnd bade the warriors of his train\nBind the rash foes with cord and chain:\n\u201c\u015a\u00e1rd\u00fala\u2019s is the sin,\u201d he cried.\nHe neath the V\u00e1nars\u2019 hands had died,\nBut R\u00e1ma from their fury freed\nThe captive in his utmost need,\nAnd, merciful at sight of woe,\nLoosed all the spies and bade them go.\nThen home to Lank\u00e1\u2019s monarch fled\nThe giant chiefs discomfited.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXX. S\u00e1rd\u00fala\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThey told their lord that R\u00e1ma still\nLay waiting by Suvela\u2019s hill.\nThe tyrant, flushed with angry glow,\nHeard of the coming of the foe,\nAnd thus with close inquiry pressed\n\u015a\u00e1rd\u00fala spokesman for the rest:\n\u201cWhy art thou sad, night-rover? speak:\nHas grief or terror changed thy cheek?\nHave the wild V\u00e1nars\u2019 hostile bands\nAssailed thee with their mighty hands?\u201d\n\n  \u015a\u00e1rd\u00fala heard, but scarce might speak;\nHis trembling tones were faint and weak:\n\u201cO Giant King, in vain we try\nThe purpose of the foe to spy.\nTheir strength and number none may tell,\nAnd R\u00e1ma guards his legions well.\nHe leaves no hope to prying eyes,\nAnd parley with the chiefs denies:\nEach road and path a V\u00e1nar guard,\nOf mountain size, has closed and barred.\nSoon as my feet an entrance found\nBy giants was I seized and bound,\nAnd wounded sore I fell beneath\nTheir fists and knees and hands and teeth.\nThen trembling, bleeding, wellnigh dead\nTo R\u00e1ma\u2019s presence was I led.\nHe in his mercy stooped to save,\nAnd freedom to the captive gave.\nWith rocks and shattered mountains he\nHas bridged his way athwart the sea,\nAnd he and all his legions wait\nEmbattled close to Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate.\nSoon will the host thy wall assail,\nAnd, swarming on, the rampart scale.\nNow, O my King, his consort yield,\nOr arm thee with the sword and shield.\nThis choice is left thee: choose between\nThy safety and the Maithil queen.\u201d(943)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXI. The Magic Head.\n\n\nThe tyrant\u2019s troubled eye confessed\nThe secret fear that filled his breast.\nWith dread of coming woe dismayed\nHe called his counsellors to aid;\nThen sternly silent, deep in thought,\nHis chamber in the palace sought.\nThen, as the surest hope of all,\nThe monarch bade his servants call\nVidyujjihva, whom magic skill\nMade master of the means of ill.\nThen spake the lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle:\n\u201cCome, S\u00edt\u00e1 with thine arts beguile.\nWith magic skill and deftest care\nA head like R\u00e1ma\u2019s own prepare.\nThis head, long shafts and mighty bow,\nTo Janak\u2019s daughter will we show.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: Vidyujjihva obeyed,\nAnd wondrous magic skill displayed;\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 for the art he showed\nAn ornament of price bestowed.\nThen to the grove where S\u00edt\u00e1 lay\nThe lord of Lank\u00e1 took his way.\nPale, wasted, weeping, on the ground\nThe melancholy queen he found,\nWhose thoughts in utmost stress of ill\nWere fixed upon her husband still.\nThe giant king approached the dame,\nDeclared in tones of joy his name;\nThen heeding naught her wild distress\nBespake her, stern and pitiless:\n\u201cThe prince to whom thy fancies cling\nThough loved and wooed by Lank\u00e1\u2019s king,\nWho slew the noble Khara,\u2014he\nIs slain by warriors sent by me.\nThy living root is hewn away,\nThy scornful pride is tamed to-day.\nThy lord in battle\u2019s front has died,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 shall be R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s bride.\nHence, idle thoughts: thy hope is fled;\nWhat wilt thou, S\u00edt\u00e1, with the dead?\nRise, child of Janak, rise and be\nThe queen of all my queens and me.\nIncline thine ear, and I will tell,\nDear lady, how thy husband fell.\nHe bridged his way across the sea\nWith countless troops to fight with me.\nThe setting sun had flushed the west\nWhen on the shore they took their rest.\nWeary with toil no watch they kept,\nSecurely on the sands they slept.\nPrahasta\u2019s troops assailed our foes,\nAnd smote them in their deep repose.\nScarce could their bravest prove their might:\nThey perished in the dark of night.\nAxe, spear, and sword, directed well,\nUpon the sleeping myriads fell.\nFirst in the fight Prahasta\u2019s sword\nReft of his head thy slumbering lord.\nRoused at the din Vibhisha\u1e47 rose,\nThe captive of surrounding foes,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 through the woods that spread\nAround him with his V\u00e1nars fled.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n fell: one deadly stroke\nThe neck of King Sugr\u00edva broke,\nAnd Mainda sank, and Dwivid lay\nGasping in blood his life away.\nThe V\u00e1nars died, or fled dispersed\nLike cloudlets when the storm has burst.\nSome rose aloft in air, and more\nRan to the sea and filled the shore.\nOn shore, in woods, on hill and plain\nOur conquering giants left the slain.\nThus my victorious host o\u2019erthrew\nThe V\u00e1nars, and thy husband slew:\nSee, rudely stained with dust, and red\nWith dropping blood, the severed head.\u201d\n\n  Then, turning to a R\u00e1kshas slave,\nThe ruthless king his mandate gave,\nAnd straight Vidyujjihva who bore\nThe head still wet with dripping gore,\nThe arrows and the mighty bow,\nBent down before his master low.\n\u201cVidyujjihva,\u201d cried R\u00e1va\u1e47, \u201cplace\nThe head before the lady\u2019s face,\nAnd let her see with weeping eyes\nThat low in death her husband lies.\u201d\n\n  Before the queen the giant laid\nThe beauteous head his art had made.\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 cried: \u201cThine eyes will know\nThese arrows and the mighty bow.\nWith fame of this by R\u00e1ma strung\nThe earth and heaven and hell have rung.\nPrahasta brought it hither when\nHis hand had slain thy prince of men.\nNow, widowed Queen, thy hopes resign:\nForget thy husband and be mine.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nAgain her eyes with tears o\u2019erflowed:\nShe gazed upon the head he showed,\nGazed on the bow so famed of yore,\nThe glorious bow which R\u00e1ma bore.\nShe gazed upon his cheek and brows,\nThe eyes of her beloved spouse;\nHis lips, the lustre of his hair,\nThe priceless gem that glittered there.\nThe features of her lord she knew,\nAnd, pierced with anguish at the view,\nShe lifted up her voice and cried:\n\u201cKaikey\u00ed, art thou satisfied?\nNow all thy longings are fulfilled;\nThe joy of Raghu\u2019s race is killed,\nAnd ruined is the ancient line,\nDestroyer, by that fraud of thine.\nAh, what offence, O cruel dame,\nWhat fault in R\u00e1ma couldst thou blame,\nTo drive him clad in hermit dress\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1 to the wilderness?\u201d\n\n  Great trembling seized her frame, and she\nFell like a stricken plantain tree.\nAs lie the dead she lay; at length\nSlowly regaining sense and strength,\nOn the dear head she fixed her eye\nAnd cried with very bitter cry:\n\u201cAh, when thy cold dead cheek I view,\nMy hero, I am murdered too.\nThen first a faithful woman\u2019s eyes\nSee sorrow, when her husband dies.\nWhen thou, my lord, wast nigh to save,\nSome stealthy hand thy death wound gave.\nThou art not dead: rise, hero, rise;\nLong life was thine, as spake the wise\nWhose words, I ween, are ever true,\nFor faith lies open to their view.\nAh lord, and shall thy head recline\nOn earth\u2019s cold breast, forsaking mine,\nCounting her chill lap dearer far\nThan I and my caresses are?\nAh, is it thus these eyes behold\nThy famous bow adorned with gold,\nWhereon of yore I loved to bind\nSweet garlands that my hands had twined?\nAnd hast thou sought in heaven a place\nAmid the founders of thy race,\nWhere in the home deserved so well\nThy sires and Da\u015baratha dwell?\nOr dost thou shine a brighter star\nIn skies where blest immortals are,\nForsaking in thy lofty scorn\nThe race wherein thy sires were born?\nTurn to my gaze, O turn thine eye:\nWhy are thy cold lips silent, why?\nWhen first we met as youth and maid,\nWhen in thy hand my hand was laid,\nThy promise was thy steps should be\nThrough life in duty\u2019s path with me.\nRemember, faithful still, thy vow,\nAnd take me with thee even now.\nIs that broad bosom where I hung,\nThat neck to which I fondly clung,\nWhere flowery garlands breathed their scent\nBy hungry dogs and vultures rent?\nShall no funereal honours grace\nThe parted lord of Raghu\u2019s race,\nWhose bounty liberal fees bestowed,\nFor whom the fires of worship glowed?\nKau\u015baly\u00e1 wild with grief will see\nOne sole survivor of the three\nWho in their hermit garments went\nTo the dark woods in banishment.\nThen at her cry shall Lakshma\u1e47 tell\nHow, slain by night, the V\u00e1nars fell;\nHow to thy side the giants crept,\nAnd slew the hero as he slept.\nThy fate and mine the queen will know,\nAnd broken-hearted die of woe.\nFor my unworthy sake, for mine,\nR\u00e1ma, the glory of his line,\nWho bridged his way across the main,\nIs basely in a puddle slain;\nAnd I, the graceless wife he wed,\nHave brought this ruin on his head.\nMe, too, on him, O R\u00e1va\u1e47, slay:\nThe wife beside her husband lay.\nBy his dear body let me rest,\nCheek close to cheek and breast to breast,\nMy happy eyes I then will close,\nAnd follow whither R\u00e1ma goes.\u201d\n\n  Thus cried the miserable dame;\nWhen to the king a warder came,\nBefore the giant monarch bowed\nAnd said that, followed by a crowd\nOf counsellors and lords of state,\nPrahasta stood before the gate,\nAnd, sent by some engrossing care,\nCraved audience of his master there.\nThe anxious tyrant left his seat\nAnd hastened forth the chief to meet:\nThen summoning his nobles all,\nTook counsel in his regal hall.\n\n  When Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord had left the queen,\nThe head and bow no more were seen.\nThe giant king his nobles eyed,\nAnd, terrible as Y\u00e1ma, cried:\n\u201cO faithful lords, the time is come:\nGather our hosts with beat of drum.\nNigh to the town our foeman draws:\nBe prudent, nor reveal the cause.\u201d\n\n  The nobles listened and obeyed:\nSwift were the gathered troops arrayed,\nAnd countless rovers of the night\nStood burning for the hour of fight.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIII. Saram\u00e1.\n\n\nBut Saram\u00e1, of gentler mood,\nWith pitying eyes the mourner viewed,\nStole to her side and softly told\nGlad tidings that her heart consoled,\nRevealing with sweet voice and smile\nThe secret of the giant\u2019s guile.\nShe, one of those who night and day\nWatching in turns by S\u00edt\u00e1 lay,\nThough R\u00e1kshas born felt pity\u2019s touch,\nAnd loved the hapless lady much.\n\n  \u201cI heard,\u201d she said, \u201cthy bitter cry,\nHeard R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s speech and thy reply,\nFor, hiding in the thicket near,\nNo word or tone escaped mine ear.\nWhen R\u00e1va\u1e47 hastened forth I bent\nMy steps to follow as he went,\nAnd learnt the secret cause that drove\nThe monarch from the A\u015boka grove.\nBelieve me, Queen, thou needst not weep\nFor R\u00e1ma slaughtered in his sleep.\nThy lion lord of men defies\nBy day attack, by night surprise.\nCan even giants slay with ease\nVast hosts who fight with brandished trees,\nFor whom, with eye that never sleeps,\nHis constant watch thy R\u00e1ma keeps?\nLord of the mighty arm and chest,\nOf earthly warriors first and best,\nWhose fame through all the regions rings,\nProud scion of a hundred kings;\nWho guards his life and loves to lend\nHis saving succour to a friend:\nWhose bow no hand but his can strain,\u2014\nThy lord, thy R\u00e1ma is not slain.\nObedient to his master\u2019s will,\nA great magician, trained in ill,\nWith deftest art surpassing thought\nThat marvellous illusion wrought.\nLet rising hope thy grief dispel:\nLook up and smile, for all is well,\nAnd gentle Lakshm\u00ed, Fortune\u2019s Queen,\nRegards thee with a favouring mien.\nThy R\u00e1ma with his V\u00e1nar train\nHas thrown a bridge athwart the main,\nHas led his countless legions o\u2019er,\nAnd ranged them on this southern shore.\nThese eyes have seen the hero stand\nGirt by his hosts on Lank\u00e1\u2019s strand,\nAnd breathless spies each moment bring\nFresh tidings to the giant king;\nAnd every peer and lord of state\nIs called to counsel and debate.\u201d\n\n  She ceased: the sound, long loud and clear,\nOf gathering armies smote her ear,\nWhere call of drum and shell rang out,\nThe tambour and the battle shout;\nAnd, while the din the echoes woke,\nAgain to Janak\u2019s child she spoke:\n\u201cHear, lady, hear the loud alarms\nThat call the R\u00e1kshas troops to arms,\nFrom stable and from stall they lead\nThe elephant and neighing steed,\nBrace harness on with deftest care,\nAnd chariots for the fight prepare.\nSwift o\u2019er the trembling ground career\nMailed horsemen armed with axe and spear,\nAnd here and there in road and street\nThe terrible battalions meet.\nI hear the gathering near and far,\nThe snorting steed, the rattling car.\nBold chieftains, leaders of the brave,\nPress densely on, like wave on wave,\nAnd bright the evening sunbeams glance\nOn helm and shield, on sword and lance.\nHark, lady, to the ringing steel,\nHark to the rolling chariot wheel:\nHark to the mettled courser\u2019s neigh\nAnd drums\u2019 loud thunder far away.\nThe Queen of Fortune holds thee dear,\nFor Lank\u00e1\u2019s troops are struck with fear,\nAnd R\u00e1ma with the lotus eyes,\nLike Indra monarch of the skies,\nWith conquering arm will slay his foe\nAnd free his lady from her woe.\nSoon will his breast support thy head,\nAnd tears of joy thine eyes will shed.\nSoon by his mighty arm embraced\nThe long-lost rapture wilt thou taste,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, meet for highest bliss,\nWill gain his guerdon in thy kiss.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIV. Saram\u00e1\u2019s Tidings.\n\n\nThus Saram\u00e1 her story told:\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s spirit was consoled,\nAs when the first fresh rain is shed\nThe parching earth is comforted.\nThen, filled with zeal for S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s sake,\nAgain in gentle tones she spake,\nAnd, skilled in arts that soothe and please,\nAddressed the queen in words like these:\n\u201cThy husband, lady, will I seek,\nSay the fond words thy lips would speak,\nAnd then, unseen of any eye,\nBack to thy side will swiftly fly.\nMy airy flights are speedier far\nThan Garu\u1e0da\u2019s and the tempest are.\u201d\n\n  Then S\u00edt\u00e1 spake: her former woe\nStill left her accents faint and low:\n\u201cI know thy steps, which naught can stay,\nCan urge through heaven and hell their way.\nThen if thy love and changeless will\nWould serve the helpless captive still,\nGo forth and learn each plot and guile\nPlanned by the lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle.\nWith magic art like maddening wine\nHe cheats these weeping eyes of mine,\nTorments me with his suit, nor spares\nReproof or flattery, threats or prayers.\nThese guards surround me night and day;\nMy heart is sad, my senses stray;\nAnd helpless in my woe I fear\nThe tyrant R\u00e1va\u1e47 even here.\u201d\n\n  Then Saram\u00e1 replied: \u201cI go\nTo learn the purpose of thy foe,\nSoon by thy side again to stand\nAnd tell thee what the king has planned.\u201d\nShe sped, she heard with eager ears\nThe tyrant speak his hopes and fears,\nWhere, gathered at their master\u2019s call,\nThe nobles filled the council hall;\nThen swiftly, to her promise true,\nBack to the A\u015boka grove she flew.\nThe lady on the grassy ground,\nLonging for her return, she found;\nWho with a gentle smile, to greet\nThe envoy, led her to a seat.\nThrough her worn frame a shiver ran\nAs Saram\u00e1 her tale began:\n\u201cThere stood the royal mother: she\nBesought her son to set thee free,\nAnd to her counsel, tears and prayers,\nThe elder nobles added theirs:\n\u201cO be the Maithil queen restored\nWith honour to her angry lord,\nLet Janasth\u00e1n\u2019s unhappy fight\nBe witness of the hero\u2019s might.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n o\u2019er the waters came\nAnd looked upon the guarded dame.\nLet Lank\u00e1\u2019s chiefs who fought and fell\nThe prowess of the leader tell.\u201d\nIn vain they sued, in vain she wept,\nHis purpose still unchanged he kept,\nAs clings the miser to his gold,\nHe would not loose thee from his hold.\nNo, never till in death he lies,\nWill Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord release his prize.\nSoon slain by R\u00e1ma\u2019s arrows all\nThe giants with their king will fall,\nAnd R\u00e1ma to his home will lead\nHis black-eyed queen from bondage freed.\u201d\n\n  An awful sound that moment rose\nFrom Lank\u00e1\u2019s fast-approaching foes,\nWhere drum and shell in mingled peal\nMade earth in terror rock and reel.\nThe hosts within the walls arrayed\nStood trembling, in their hearts dismayed;\nThought of the tempest soon to burst,\nAnd Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord, their ruin, cursed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXV. Malyav\u00e1n\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThe fearful notes of drum and shell\nUpon the ear of R\u00e1va\u1e47 fell.\nOne moment quailed his haughty look,\nOne moment in his fear he shook,\nBut soon recalling wonted pride,\nHis counsellors he sternly eyed,\nAnd with a voice that thundered through\nThe council hall began anew:\n\u201cLords, I have heard\u2014your tongues have told\u2014\nHow Raghu\u2019s son is fierce and bold.\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s shore has bridged his way\nAnd hither leads his wild array.\nI know your might, in battle tried,\nFighting and conquering by my side.\nWhy now, when such a foe is near,\nLooks eye to eye in silent fear?\u201d\n\n  He ceased, his mother\u2019s sire well known\nFor wisdom in the council shown,\nMalyav\u00e1n, sage and faithful guide.\nThus to the monarch\u2019s speech replied:\n\u201cLong reigns the king in safe repose,\nUnmoved by fear of vanquished foes,\nWhose feet by saving knowledge led\nIn justice path delight to tread:\nWho knows to sheath the sword or wield,\nTo order peace, to strike or yield:\nPrefers, when foes are stronger, peace,\nAnd bids a doubtful conflict cease.\nNow, King, the choice before thee lies,\nMake peace with R\u00e1ma, and be wise.\nThis day the captive queen restore\nWho brings the foe to Lank\u00e1\u2019s shore.\nThe Sire by whom the worlds are swayed\nOf yore the Gods and demons made.\nWith these Injustice sided; those\nFair Justice for her champions chose.\nStill Justice dwells with Gods above;\nInjustice, fiends and giants love.\nThou, through the worlds that fear thee, long\nHast scorned the right and loved the wrong,\nAnd Justice, with thy foes allied,\nGives might resistless to their side.\nThou, guided by thy wicked will,\nHast found delight in deeds of ill,\nAnd sages in their holy rest\nHave trembled, by thy power oppressed.\nBut they, who check each vain desire,\nAre clothed with might which burns like fire.\nIn them the power and glory live\nWhich zeal and saintly fervour give.\nTheir constant task, their sole delight\nIs worship and each holy rite,\nTo chant aloud the Veda hymn,\nNor let the sacred fires grow dim.\nNow through the air like thunder ring\nThe echoes of the chants they sing.\nThe vapours of their incense rise\nAnd veil with cloudy pall the skies,\nAnd R\u00e1kshas might grows weak and faint\nKilled by the power of sage and saint.\nBy Brahm\u00e1\u2019s boon thy life was screened\nFrom God, Gandharva, Yaksha, fiend;\nBut V\u00e1nars, men, and bears, arrayed\nAgainst thee now, thy shores invade.\nRed meteors, heralds of despair\nFlash frequent through the lurid air,\nForetelling to my troubled mind\nThe ruin of the R\u00e1kshas kind.\nWith awful thundering overhead\nClouds black as night are densely spread,\nAnd oozing from the gloomy pall\nGreat drops of blood on Lank\u00e1 fall.\nDogs roam through house and shrine to steal\nThe sacred oil and curd and meal,\nCats pair with tigers, hounds with swine,\nAnd asses\u2019 foals are born of kine.\nIn these and countless signs I trace\nThe ruin of the giant race.\n\u2019Tis Vish\u1e47u\u2019s self who comes to storm\nThy city, clothed in R\u00e1ma\u2019s form;\nFor, well I ween, no mortal hand\nThe ocean with a bridge has spanned.\nO giant King, the dame release,\nAnd sue to Raghu\u2019s son for peace\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Reply.\n\n\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s breast with fury swelled,\nAnd thus he spake by Death impelled,\nWhile, under brows in anger bent,\nFierce glances from his eyes were sent:\n\u201cThe bitter words which thou, misled\nBy friendly thought, hast fondly said,\nWhich praise the foe and counsel fear,\nUnheeded fall upon mine ear.\nHow canst thou deem a mighty foe\nThis R\u00e1ma who, in stress of woe,\nSeeks, banished as his sire decreed,\nAssistance from the V\u00e1nar breed?\nAm I so feeble in thine eyes,\nThough feared by dwellers of the skies,\u2014\nWhose might in many a battle shown\nThe glorious race of giants own?\nShall I for fear of him restore\nThe lady whom I hither bore,\nExceeding fair like Beauty\u2019s Queen(944)\nWithout her well-loved lotus seen?\nAround the chief let Lakshma\u1e47 stand,\nSugr\u00edva, and each V\u00e1nar band,\nSoon, Malyav\u00e1n, thine eyes will see\nThis boasted R\u00e1ma slain by me.\nI in the brunt of war defy\nThe mightiest warriors of the sky;\nAnd if I stoop to combat men,\nShall I be weak and tremble then?\nThis mangled trunk the foe may rend,\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47 ne\u2019er can yield or bend,\nAnd be it vice or virtue, I\nThis nature never will belie.\nWhat marvel if he bridged the sea?\nWhy should this deed disquiet thee?\nThis, only this, I surely know,\nBack with his life he shall not go.\u201d\n\n  Thus in loud tones the king exclaimed,\nAnd mute stood Malyav\u00e1n ashamed,\nHis reverend head he humbly bent,\nAnd slowly to his mansion went.\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47 stayed, and deep in care\nHeld counsel with his nobles there,\nAll entrance to secure and close,\nAnd guard the city from their foes.\nHe bade the chief Prahasta wait,\nCommander at the eastern gate,\nTo fierce Mahodar, strong and brave,\nTo keep the southern gate, he gave,\nWhere Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva\u2019s might should aid\nThe chieftain with his hosts arrayed.\nTo guard the west\u2014no chief more fit\u2014\nHe placed the warrior Indraj\u00edt,\nHis son, the giant\u2019s joy and boast,\nSurrounded by a R\u00e1kshas host:\nAnd mighty S\u00e1ra\u1e47 hastened forth\nWith \u015auka to protect the north.(945)\n\u201cI will myself,\u201d the monarch cried,\n\u201cBe present on the northern side.\u201d\nThese orders for the walls\u2019 defence\nThe tyrant gave, then parted thence,\nAnd, by the hope of victory fired,\nTo chambers far within, retired.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVII. Preparations.\n\n\nLords of the legions of the wood,\nThe chieftains with Vibhisha\u1e47 stood,\nAnd, strangers in the foeman\u2019s land,\nTheir hopes and fears in council scanned:\n\n  \u201cSee, see where Lank\u00e1\u2019s towers ascend,\nWhich R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s power and might defend,\nWhich Gods, Gandharvas, fiends would fail\nTo conquer, if they durst assail.\nHow shall our legions pass within,\nThe city of the foe to win,\nWith massive walls and portals barred\nWhich R\u00e1va\u1e47 keeps with surest guard?\u201d\nWith anxious looks the walls they eyed:\nAnd sage Vibhisha\u1e47 thus replied:\n\u201cThese lords of mine(946) can answer: they\nWithin the walls have found their way,\nThe foeman\u2019s plan and order learned,\nAnd hither to my side returned.\nNow, R\u00e1ma, let my tongue declare\nHow R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s hosts are stationed there.\nPrahasta heads, in warlike state,\nHis legions at the eastern gate.\nTo guard the southern portal stands\nMahodar, girt by R\u00e1kshas bands,\nWhere mighty Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva, sent\nBy R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s hest, his aid has lent.\nGuard of the gate that fronts the west\nIs valiant Indraj\u00edt, the best\nOf warriors, R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s joy and pride;\nAnd by the youthful chieftain\u2019s side\nAre giants, armed for fierce attacks\nWith sword and mace and battle-axe.\nNorth, where approach is dreaded most,\nThe king, encompassed with a host\nOf giants trained in war, whose hands\nWield maces, swords and lances, stands.\nAll these are chiefs whom R\u00e1va\u1e47 chose\nAs mightiest to resist his foes;\nAnd each a countless army(947) leads\nWith elephants and cars and steeds.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma, while his spirit burned\nFor battle, words like these returned:\n\u201cThe eastern gate be N\u00edla\u2019s care,\nOpponent of Prahasta there.\nThe southern gate, with troops arrayed\nLet Angad, B\u00e1li\u2019s son, invade.\nThe gate that fronts the falling sun\nShall be by brave Han\u00fam\u00e1n won;\nSoon through its portals shall he lead\nHis myriads of V\u00e1nar breed.\nThe gate that fronts the north shall be\nAssailed by Lakshma\u1e47 and by me,\nFor I myself have sworn to kill\nThe tyrant who delights in ill.\nArmed with the boon which Brahm\u00e1 gave,\nThe Gods of heaven he loves to brave,\nAnd through the trembling worlds he flies,\nOppressor of the just and wise.\nThou, J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n, and thou, O King\nOf V\u00e1nars, all your bravest bring,\nAnd with your hosts in dense array\nStraight to the centre force your way.\nBut let no V\u00e1nar in the storm\nDisguise him in a human form,\nYe chiefs who change your shapes at will,\nRetain your V\u00e1nar semblance still.\nThus, when we battle with the foe,\nBoth men and V\u00e1nars will ye know,\nIn human form will seven appear;\nMyself, my brother Lakshma\u1e47 here;\nVibhisha\u1e47, and the four he led\nFrom Lank\u00e1\u2019s city when he fled.\u201d\n\n  Thus Raghu\u2019s son the chiefs addressed:\nThen, gazing on Suvela\u2019s crest,\nTransported by the lovely sight,\nHe longed to climb the mountain height.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXVIII. The Ascent Of Suvela.\n\n\n\u201cCome let us scale,\u201d the hero cried,\n\u201cThis hill with various metals dyed.\nThis night upon the breezy crest\nSugr\u00edva, Lakshma\u1e47, I, will rest,\nWith sage Vibhisha\u1e47, faithful friend,\nHis counsel and his lore to lend.\nFrom those tall peaks each eager eye\nThe foeman\u2019s city shall espy,\nWho from the wood my darling stole\nAnd brought long anguish on my soul.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the lord of men, and bent\nHis footsteps to the steep ascent,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47, true in weal and woe,\nNext followed with his shafts and bow.\nVibhisha\u1e47 followed, next in place,\nThe sovereign of the V\u00e1nar race,\nAnd hundreds of the forest kind\nThronged with impetuous feet, behind.\nThe chiefs in woods and mountains bred\nFast followed to Suvela\u2019s head,\nAnd gazed on Lank\u00e1 bright and fair\nAs some gay city in the air.\nOn glittering gates, on ramparts raised\nBy giant hands, the chieftains gazed.\nThey saw the mighty hosts that, skilled\nIn arts of war, the city filled,\nAnd ramparts with new ramparts lined,\nThe swarthy hosts that stood behind.\nWith spirits burning for the fight\nThey saw the giants from the height,\nAnd from a hundred throats rang out\nDefiance and the battle shout.\nThen sank the sun with dying flame,\nAnd soft the shades of twilight came,\nAnd the full moon\u2019s delicious light\nWas shed upon the tranquil night.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XXXIX. Lank\u00e1.\n\n\nThey slept secure: the sun arose\nAnd called the chieftains from repose.\nBefore the wondering V\u00e1nars, gay\nWith grove and garden, Lank\u00e1 lay,\nWhere golden buds the Champak showed,\nAnd bright with bloom A\u015boka glowed,\nAnd palm and S\u00e1l and many a tree\nWith leaf and flower were fair to see.\nThey looked on wood and lawn and glade,\nOn emerald grass and dusky shade,\nWhere creepers filled the air with scent,\nAnd luscious fruit the branches bent,\nWhere bees inebriate loved to throng,\nAnd each sweet bird was loud in song.\nThe wondering V\u00e1nars passed the bound\nThat circled that enchanting ground,\nAnd as they came a sweet breeze through\nThe odorous alleys softly blew.\nSome V\u00e1nars, at their king\u2019s behest,\nOnward to bannered Lank\u00e1 pressed,\nWhile, startled by the strangers\u2019 tread,\nThe birds and deer before them fled.\nEarth trembled at each step they took,\nAnd Lank\u00e1 at their shouting shook.\nBright rose before their wondering eyes\nTrik\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s peak that kissed the skies,\nAnd, clothed with flowers of every hue,\nAfar its golden radiance threw.\nMost fair to see the mountain\u2019s head\nA hundred leagues in length was spread.\nThere R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s town, securely placed,\nThe summit of Trik\u00fa\u1e6da graced.\nO\u2019er leagues of land she stretched in pride,\nA hundred long and twenty wide.\nThey saw a lofty wall enfold\nThe city, built of blocks of gold,\nThey saw the beams of morning fall\nOn dome and fane within the wall,\nBright with the shine that mansion gives\nWhere Vish\u1e47u in his glory lives.\nWhite-crested like the Lord of Snows\nBefore them R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s palace rose.\nHigh on a thousand pillars raised\nWith gold and precious stone it blazed,\nGuarded by giant warders, crown\nAnd ornament of Lank\u00e1\u2019s town.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XL. R\u00e1van Attacked.\n\n\nStill stood the son of Raghu where\nSuvela\u2019s peak rose high in air,\nAnd with Sugr\u00edva turned his eye\nTo scan each quarter of the sky.\nThere on Trik\u00fa\u1e6da, nobly planned\nAnd built by Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s hand,\nHe saw the lovely Lank\u00e1, dressed\nIn all her varied beauty, rest.\nHigh on a tower above the gate\nThe tyrant stood in kingly state.\nThe royal canopy displayed\nAbove him lent its grateful shade,\nAnd servants, from the giant band,\nHis cheek with jewelled chowries fanned.\nRed sandal o\u2019er his breast was spread,\nHis ornaments and robe were red:\nThus shows a cloud of darksome hue\nWith golden sunbeams flashing through.\nWhile R\u00e1ma and the chiefs intent\nUpon the king their glances bent,\nUp sprang Sugr\u00edva from the ground\nAnd reached the turret at a bound.\nUnterrified the V\u00e1nar stood,\nAnd wroth, with wondrous hardihood,\nThe king in bitter words addressed,\nAnd thus his scorn and hate expressed:\n\n  \u201cKing of the giant race, in me\nThe friend and slave of R\u00e1ma see.\nLord of the world, he gives me power\nTo smite thee in thy fenced tower.\u201d\nWhile through the air his challenge rang,\nAt R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s face the V\u00e1nar sprang.\nSnatched from his head the kingly crown\nAnd dashed it in his fury down.\nStraight at his foe the giant flew,\nHis mighty arms about him threw.\nWith strength resistless swung him round\nAnd dashed him panting to the ground.\nUnharmed amid the storm of blows\nSwift to his feet Sugr\u00edva rose.\nAgain in furious fight they met:\nWith streams of blood their limbs were wet,\nEach grasping his opponent\u2019s waist.\nThus with their branches interlaced,\nWhich, crimson with the flowers of spring,\nFrom side to side the breezes swing,\nIn furious wrestle you may see\nThe Kin\u015buk and the Seemal tree.(948)\nThey fought with fists and hands, alike\nPrepared to parry and to strike.\nLong time the doubtful combat, waged\nWith matchless strength and fury, raged.\nEach fiercely struck, each guarded well,\nTill, closing, from the tower they fell,\nAnd, grasping each the other\u2019s throat,\nLay for an instant in the moat.\nThey rose, and each in fiercer mood\nThe sanguinary strife renewed.\nWell matched in size and strength and skill\nThey fought the dubious battle still.\nWhile sweat and blood their limbs bedewed\nThey met, retreated, and pursued:\nEach stratagem and art they tried,\nStood front to front and swerved aside.\nHis hand a while the giant stayed\nAnd called his magic to his aid.\nBut brave Sugr\u00edva, swift to know\nThe guileful purpose of the foe,\nGained with light leap the upper air,\nAnd breath and strength and spirit there;\nThen, joyous as for victory won,\nReturned to Raghu\u2019s royal son.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLI. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Envoy.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw each bloody trace\nOn King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s limbs and face,\nHe cried, while, sorrowing at the view,\nHis arms about his friend he threw:\n\u201cToo venturous chieftain, kings like us\nBring not their lives in peril thus;\nNor, save when counsel shows the need,\nAttempt so bold, so rash a deed.\nRemember, I, Vibhisha\u1e47 all\nHave sorrowed fearing for thy fall.\nO do not\u2014for us all I speak\u2014\nThese desperate adventures seek.\u201d\n\u201cI could not,\u201d cried Sugr\u00edva, \u201cbrook\nUpon the giant king to look,\nNor challenge to the deadly strife\nThe fiend who robbed thee of thy wife.\u201d\n\u201cNow Lakshma\u1e47, marshal,\u201d R\u00e1ma cried,\n\u201cOur legions where the woods are wide,\nAnd stand we ready to oppose\nThe fury of our giant foes.\nThis day our armies shall ascend\nThe walls which R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s powers defend,\nAnd floods of R\u00e1kshas blood shall stain\nThe streets encumbered with the slain.\u201d\nDown from the peak he came, and viewed\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 ordered multitude.\nEach captain there for battle burned,\nEach fiery eye to Lank\u00e1 turned.\nOn, where the royal brothers led\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s walls the legions sped.\nThe northern gate, where giant foes\nSwarmed round their monarch, R\u00e1ma chose\nWhere he in person might direct\nThe battle, and his troops protect.\nWhat arm but his the post might keep\nWhere, strong as he who sways the deep,(949)\nMid thousands armed with bow and mace,\nStood R\u00e1va\u1e47 mightiest of his race?\nThe eastern gate was N\u00edla\u2019s post,\nWhere marshalled stood his V\u00e1nar host,\nAnd Mainda with his troops arrayed,\nAnd Dwivid stood to lend him aid.\nThe southern gate was Angad\u2019s care,\nWho ranged his bold battalions there.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n by the port that faced\nThe setting sun his legions placed,\nAnd King Sugr\u00edva held the wood\nEast of the gate where R\u00e1va\u1e47 stood.\nOn every side the myriads met,\nAnd Lank\u00e1\u2019s walls of close beset\nThat scarce the roving gale could win\nA passage to the hosts within.\nLoud as the angry ocean\u2019s roar\nWhen wild waves lash the rocky shore,\nTen thousand thousand throats upsent\nA shout that tore the firmament,\nAnd Lank\u00e1 with each grove and brook\nAnd tower and wall and rampart shook.\nThe giants heard, and were appalled:\nThen Raghu\u2019s son to Angad called,\nAnd, led by kingly duty,(950) gave\nThis order merciful as brave:\n\u201cGo, Angad, R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s presence seek,\nAnd thus my words of warning speak:\n\u201cHow art thou changed and fallen now,\nO Monarch of the giants, thou\nWhose impious fury would not spare\nSaint, nymph, or spirit of the air;\nWhose foot in haughty triumph trod\nOn Yaksha, king, and Serpent God:\nHow art thou fallen from thy pride\nWhich Brahm\u00e1\u2019s favour fortified!\nWith myriads at thy Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate\nI stand my righteous ire to sate,\nAnd punish thee with sword and flame,\nThe tyrant fiend who stole my dame.\nNow show the might, employ the guile,\nO Monarch of the giants\u2019 isle,\nWhich stole a helpless dame away:\nCall up thy power and strength to-day.\nOnce more I warn thee, R\u00e1kshas King,\nThis hour the Maithil lady bring,\nAnd, yielding while there yet is time,\nSeek, suppliant, pardon for the crime,\nOr I will leave beneath the sun\nNo living R\u00e1kshas, no, not one.\nIn vain from battle wilt thou fly,\nOr borne on pinions seek the sky;\nThe hand of R\u00e1ma shall not spare;\nHis fiery shaft shall smite thee there.\u2019 \u201d\n\n  He ceased: and Angad bowed his head;\nThence like embodied flame he sped,\nAnd lighted from his airy road\nWithin the R\u00e1kshas king\u2019s abode.\nThere sate, the centre of a ring\nOf counsellors, the giant king.\nSwift through the circle Angad pressed,\nAnd spoke with fury in his breast:\n\u201cSent by the lord of Ko\u015bal\u2019s land,\nHis envoy here, O King, I stand,\nAngad the son of B\u00e1li: fame\nHas haply taught thine ears my name.\nThus in the words of R\u00e1ma I\nAm come to warn thee or defy:\nCome forth, and fighting in the van\nDisplay the spirit of a man.\nThis arm shall slay thee, tyrant: all\nThy nobles, kith and kin shall fall:\nAnd earth and heaven, from terror freed,\nShall joy to see the oppressor bleed.\nVibhisha\u1e47, when his foe is slain,\nAnointed king in peace shall reign.\nOnce more I counsel thee: repent,\nAvoid the mortal punishment,\nWith honour due the dame restore,\nAnd pardon for thy sin implore.\u201d\n\n  Loud rose the king\u2019s infuriate cry:\n\u201cSeize, seize the V\u00e1nar, let him die.\u201d\nFour of his band their lord obeyed,\nAnd eager hands on Angad laid.\nHe purposing his strength to show\nGave no resistance to the foe,\nBut swiftly round his captors cast\nHis mighty arms and held them fast.\nFierce shout and cry around him rang:\nLight to the palace roof he sprang,\nThere his detaining arms unwound,\nAnd hurled the giants to the ground.\nThen, smiting with a fearful stroke,\nA turret from the roof he broke,\u2014\nAs when the fiery levin sent\nBy Indra from the clouds has rent\nThe proud peak of the Lord of Snow,\u2014\nAnd flung the stony mass below.\nAgain with loud terrific cry\nHe sprang exulting to the sky,\nAnd, joyous for his errand done,\nStood by the side of Raghu\u2019s son.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLII. The Sally.\n\n\nStill was the cry, \u201cThe V\u00e1nar foes\nAround the leaguered city close.\u201d\nKing R\u00e1va\u1e47 from the terrace gazed\nAnd saw, with eyes where fury blazed,\nThe V\u00e1nar host in serried ranks\nPress to the moat and line the banks,\nAnd, first in splendour and in place,\nThe lion lord of Raghu\u2019s race.\nAnd R\u00e1ma looked on Lank\u00e1 where\nGay flags were streaming to the air,\nAnd, while keen sorrow pierced him through,\nHis loving thoughts to S\u00edt\u00e1 flew:\n\u201cThere, there in deep affliction lies\nMy darling with the fawn-like eyes.\nThere on the cold bare ground she keeps\nSad vigil and for R\u00e1ma weeps.\u201d\nMad with the thought, \u201cCharge, charge,\u201d he cried.\n\u201cLet earth with R\u00e1kshas blood be dyed.\u201d\n\n  Responsive to his call rang out\nA loud, a universal shout,\nAs myriads filled the moat with stone,\nTrees, rocks, and mountains overthrown,\nAnd charging at their leader\u2019s call\nPressed forward furious to the wall.\nSome in their headlong ardour scaled\nThe rampart\u2019s height, the guard assailed,\nAnd many a ponderous fragment rent\nFrom portal, tower, and battlement.\nHuge gates adorned with burnished gold\nWere loosed and lifted from their hold;\nAnd post and pillar, with a sound\nLike thunder, fell upon the ground.\nAt every portal, east and west\nAnd north and south, the chieftains pressed\nEach in his post appointed led\nHis myriads in the forest bred.\n\n  \u201cCharge, let the gates be opened wide:\nCharge, charge, my giants,\u201d R\u00e1va\u1e47 cried.\nThey heard his voice, and loud and long\nRang the wild clamour of the throng,\nAnd shell and drum their notes upsent,\nAnd every martial instrument.\nForth, at the bidding of their lord\nFrom every gate the giants poured,\nAs, when the waters rise and swell,\nHuge waves preceding waves impel.\nAgain from every V\u00e1nar throat\nA scream of fierce defiance smote\nThe welkin: earth and sea and sky\nRe\u00ebchoed with the awful cry.\nThe roar of elephants, the neigh\nOf horses eager for the fray.\nThe frequent clash of warriors\u2019 steel,\nThe rattling of the chariot wheel.\nFierce was the deadly fight: opposed\nIn terrible array they closed,\nAs when the Gods of heaven enraged\nWith rebel fiends wild battle waged.\nAxe, spear, and mace were wielded well:\nAt every blow a V\u00e1nar fell.\nBut shivered rock and brandished tree\nBrought many a giant on his knee,\nTo perish in his turn beneath\nThe deadly wounds of nails and teeth.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIII. The Single Combats.\n\n\nBrave chiefs of each opposing side\nTheir strength in single combat tried.\nFierce Indraj\u00edt the fight began\nWith Angad in the battle\u2019s van.\nSamp\u00e1ti, strongest of his race,\nStood with Prajangha face to face.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n, Jambum\u00e1li met\nIn mortal opposition set.\nVibhisha\u1e47, brother of the lord\nOf Lank\u00e1, raised his threatening sword\nAnd singled out, with eyes aglow\nWith wrath, \u015aatrughna for his foe.\nThe mighty Gaja Tapan sought,\nAnd N\u00edla with Nikumbha fought.\nSugr\u00edva, V\u00e1nar king, defied\nFierce Praghas long in battle tried,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 fearless in the fight\nEncountered V\u00edr\u00fap\u00e1ksha\u2019s might.\nTo meet the royal R\u00e1ma came\nWild Agniketu fierce as flame;\nMitraghana, he who loved to strike\nHis foeman and his friend alike:\nWith Ra\u015bmiketu, known and feared\nWhere\u2019er his ponderous flag was reared;\nAnd Yajnakopa whose delight\nWas ruin of the sacred rite.\nThese met and fought, with thousands more,\nAnd trampled earth was red with gore.\nSwift as the bolt which Indra sends\nWhen fire from heaven the mountain rends\nSmote Indraj\u00edt with furious blows\nOn Angad queller of his foes.\nBut Angad from his foeman tore\nThe murderous mace the warrior bore,\nAnd low in dust his coursers rolled,\nHis driver, and his car of gold.\nStruck by the shafts Prajangha sped,\nThe V\u00e1nar chief Samp\u00e1ti bled,\nBut, heedless of his gashes he\nCrushed down the giant with a tree.\nThen car-borne Jambum\u00e1li smote\nHanum\u00e1n on the chest and throat;\nBut at the car the V\u00e1nar rushed,\nAnd chariot, steeds, and rider crushed.\nSugr\u00edva whirled a huge tree round,\nAnd struck fierce Praghas to the ground.\nOne arrow shot from Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s bow\nLaid mighty V\u00edr\u00fap\u00e1ksha low.\nHis giant foes round R\u00e1ma pressed\nAnd shot their shafts at head and breast;\nBut, when the iron shower was spent,\nFour arrows from his bow he sent,\nAnd every missile, deftly sped;\nCleft from the trunk a giant head.(951)\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIV. The Night.\n\n\nThe lord of Light had sunk and set:\nNight came; the foeman struggled yet;\nAnd fiercer for the gloom of night\nGrew the wild fury of the fight.\nScarce could each warrior\u2019s eager eye\nThe foeman from the friend descry.\n\u201cR\u00e1kshas or V\u00e1nar? say;\u201d cried each,\nAnd foe knew foeman by his speech.\n\u201cWhy wilt thou fly? O warrior, stay:\nTurn on the foe, and rend and slay:\u201d\nSuch were the cries, such words of fear\nSmote through the gloom each listening ear.\nEach swarthy rover of the night\nWhose golden armour flashed with light,\nShowed like a towering hill embraced\nBy burning woods about his waist.\nThe giants at the V\u00e1nars flew,\nAnd ravening ate the foes they slew:\nWith mortal bite like serpent\u2019s fang,\nThe V\u00e1nars at the giants sprang,\nAnd car and steeds and they who bore\nThe pennons fell bedewed with gore.\nNo serried band, no firm array\nThe fury of their charge could stay.\nDown went the horse and rider, down\nWent giant lords of high renown.\nThough midnight\u2019s shade was dense and dark,\nWith skill that swerved not from the mark\nTheir bows the sons of Raghu drew,\nAnd each keen shaft a chieftain slew.\nUprose the blinding dust from meads\nPloughed by the cars and trampling steeds,\nAnd where the warriors fell the flood\nWas dark and terrible with blood.\nSix giants(952) singled R\u00e1ma out,\nAnd charged him with a furious shout\nLoud as the roaring of the sea\nWhen every wind is raging free.\nSix times he shot: six heads were cleft;\nSix giants dead on earth were left.\nNor ceased he yet: his bow he strained,\nAnd from the sounding weapon rained\nA storm of shafts whose fiery glare\nFilled all the region of the air;\nAnd chieftains dropped before his aim\nLike moths that perish in the flame.\nEarth glistened where the arrows fell,\nAs shines in autumn nights a dell\nWhich fireflies, flashing through the gloom,\nWith momentary light illume.\n\n  But Indraj\u00edt, when B\u00e1li\u2019s son(953)\nThe victory o\u2019er the foe had won,\nSaw with a fury-kindled eye\nHis mangled steeds and driver die;\nThen, lost in air, he fled the fight,\nAnd vanished from the victor\u2019s sight.\nThe Gods and saints glad voices raised,\nAnd Angad for his virtue praised;\nAnd Raghu\u2019s sons bestowed the meed\nOf honour due to valorous deed.\n\n  Compelled his shattered car to quit,\nRage filled the soul of Indraj\u00edt,\nWho brooked not, strong by Brahm\u00e1\u2019s grace\nDefeat from one of V\u00e1nar race.\nIn magic mist concealed from view\nHis bow the treacherous warrior drew,\nAnd Raghu\u2019s sons were first to feel\nThe tempest of his winged steel.\nThen when his arrows failed to kill\nThe princes who defied him still,\nHe bound them with the serpent noose,(954)\nThe magic bond which none might loose.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLV. Indraj\u00edt\u2019s Victory.\n\n\nBrave R\u00e1ma, burning still to know\nThe station of his artful foe,\nGave to ten chieftains, mid the best\nOf all the host, his high behest.\nSwift rose in air the V\u00e1nar band:\nEach region of the sky they scanned:\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s son by magic skill\nChecked them with arrows swifter still,\nWhen streams of blood from chest and side\nThe dauntless V\u00e1nars\u2019 limbs had dyed,\nThe giant in his misty shroud\nShowed like the sun obscured by cloud.\nLike serpents hissing through the air,\nHis arrows smote the princely pair;\nAnd from their limbs at every rent\nA stream of rushing blood was sent.\nLike Kin\u015buk trees they stood, that show\nIn spring their blossoms\u2019 crimson glow.\nThen Indraj\u00edt with fury eyed\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s royal sons, and cried:\n\n  \u201cNot mighty Indra can assail\nOr see me when I choose to veil\nMy form in battle: and can ye,\nChildren of earth, contend with me?\nThe arrowy noose this hand has shot\nHas bound you with a hopeless knot;\nAnd, slaughtered by my shafts and bow,\nTo Y\u00e1ma\u2019s hall this hour ye go.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and shouted. Then anew\nThe arrows from his bowstring flew,\nAnd pierced, well aimed with perfect art,\nEach limb and joint and vital part.\nTransfixed with shafts in every limb,\nTheir strength relaxed, their eyes grew dim.\nAs two tall standards side by side,\nWith each sustaining rope untied,\nFall levelled by the howling blast,\nSo earth\u2019s majestic lords at last\nBeneath the arrowy tempest reeled,\nAnd prostrate pressed the battle field.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVI. Indraj\u00edt\u2019s Triumph.\n\n\nThe V\u00e1nar chiefs whose piercing eyes\nScanned eagerly the earth and skies,\nSaw the brave brothers wounded sore\nTransfixed with darts and stained with gore.\nThe monarch of the V\u00e1nar race,\nWith wise Vibhisha\u1e47, reached the place;\nAngad and N\u00edla came behind,\nAnd others of the forest kind,\nAnd standing with Han\u00fam\u00e1n there\nLamented for the fallen pair.\nTheir melancholy eyes they raised;\nIn fruitless search a while they gazed.\nBut magic arts Vibhisha\u1e47 knew;\nNot hidden from his keener view,\nThough veiled by magic from the rest,\nThe son of R\u00e1va\u1e47 stood confessed.\nFierce Indraj\u00edt with savage pride\nThe fallen sons of Raghu eyed,\nAnd every giant heart was proud\nAs thus the warrior cried aloud:\n\n  \u201cSlain by mine arrows R\u00e1ma lies,\nAnd closed in death are Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s eyes.\nDead are the mighty princes who\nD\u00fasha\u1e47 and Khara smote and slew.\nThe Gods and fiends may toil in vain\nTo free them from the binding chain.\nThe haughty chief, my father\u2019s dread,\nWho drove him sleepless from his bed,\nWhile Lank\u00e1, troubled like a brook\nIn rain time, heard his name and shook:\nHe whose fierce hate our lives pursued\nLies helpless by my shafts subdued.\nNow fruitless is each wondrous deed\nWrought by the race the forests breed,\nAnd fruitless every toil at last\nLike cloudlets when the rains are past.\u201d\nThen rose the shout of giants loud\nAs thunder from a bursting cloud,\nWhen, deeming R\u00e1ma, dead, they raised\nTheir voices and the conqueror praised.\n\n  Still motionless, as lie the slain,\nThe brothers pressed the bloody plain,\nNo sigh they drew, no breath they heaved,\nAnd lay as though of life bereaved.\nProud of the deed his art had done,\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s town went R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s son,\nWhere, as he passed, all fear was stilled,\nAnd every heart with triumph filled.\nSugr\u00edva trembled as he viewed\nEach fallen prince with blood bedewed,\nAnd in his eyes which overflowed\nWith tears the flame of anger glowed.\n\u201cCalm,\u201d cried Vibhisha\u1e47, \u201ccalm thy fears,\nAnd stay the torrent of thy tears.\nStill must the chance of battle change,\nAnd victory still delight to range.\nOur cause again will she befriend\nAnd bring us triumph in the end.\nThis is not death: each prince will break\nThe spell that holds him, and awake;\nNor long shall numbing magic bind\nThe mighty arm, the lofty mind.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: his finger bathed in dew\nAcross Sugr\u00edva\u2019s eyes he drew;\nFrom dulling mist his vision freed,\nAnd spoke these words to suit the need:\n\u201cNo time is this for fear: away\nWith fainting heart and weak delay.\nNow, e\u2019en the tear which sorrow wrings\nFrom loving eyes destruction brings.\nUp, on to battle at the head\nOf those brave troops which R\u00e1ma led.\nOr guardian by his side remain\nTill sense and strength the prince regain.\nSoon shall the trance-bound pair revive,\nAnd from our hearts all sorrow drive.\nThough prostrate on the earth he lie,\nDeem not that R\u00e1ma\u2019s death is nigh;\nDeem not that Lakshm\u00ed will forget\nOr leave her darling champion yet.\nRest here and be thy heart consoled;\nPonder my words, be firm and bold.\nI, foremost in the battlefield,\nWill rally all who faint or yield.\nTheir staring eyes betray their fear;\nThey whisper each in other\u2019s ear.\nThey, when they hear my cheering cry\nAnd see the friend of R\u00e1ma nigh,\nWill cast their gloom and fears away\nLike faded wreaths of yesterday.\u201d\n\n  Thus calmed he King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s dread;\nThen gave new heart to those who fled.\nFierce Indraj\u00edt, his soul on fire\nWith pride of conquest, sought his sire,\nRaised reverent hands, and told him all,\nThe battle and the princes\u2019 fall.\nRejoicing at his foes\u2019 defeat\nUpsprang the monarch from his seat,\nGirt by his giant courtiers: round\nHis warrior son his arms he wound,\nClose kisses on his head applied,\nAnd heard again how R\u00e1ma died.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVII. S\u00edt\u00e1.\n\n\nStill on the ground where R\u00e1ma slept\nTheir faithful watch the V\u00e1nars kept.\nThere Angad stood o\u2019erwhelmed with grief\nAnd many a lord and warrior chief;\nAnd, ranged in densest mass around,\nTheir tree-armed legions held the ground.\nFar ranged each V\u00e1nar\u2019s eager eye,\nNow swept the land, now sought the sky,\nAll fearing, if a leaf was stirred,\nA R\u00e1kshas in the sound they heard.\nThe lord of Lank\u00e1 in his hall,\nRejoicing at his foeman\u2019s fall,\nCommanded and the warders came\nWho ever watched the Maithil dame.\n\u201cGo,\u201d cried the R\u00e1kshas king, \u201crelate\nTo Janak\u2019s child her husband\u2019s fate.\nLow on the earth her R\u00e1ma lies,\nAnd dark in death are Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s eyes.\nBring forth my car and let her ride\nTo view the chieftains side by side.\nThe lord to whom her fancy turned\nFor whose dear sake my love she spurned,\nLies smitten, as he fiercely led\nThe battle, with his brother dead.\nLead forth the royal lady: go\nHer husband\u2019s lifeless body show.\nThen from all doubt and terror free\nHer softening heart will turn to me.\u201d\n\n  They heard his speech: the car was brought;\nThat shady grove the warders sought\nWhere, mourning R\u00e1ma night and day,\nThe melancholy lady lay.\nThey placed her in the car and through\nThe yielding air they swiftly flew.\nThe lady looked upon the plain,\nLooked on the heaps of V\u00e1nar slain,\nSaw where, triumphant in the fight,\nThronged the fierce rovers of the night,\nAnd V\u00e1nar chieftains, mournful-eyed,\nWatched by the fallen brothers\u2019 side.\nThere stretched upon his gory bed\nEach brother lay as lie the dead,\nWith shattered mail and splintered bow\nPierced by the arrows of the foe.\nWhen on the pair her eyes she bent,\nBurst from her lips a wild lament\nHer eyes o\u2019erflowed, she groaned and sighed\nAnd thus in trembling accents cried:\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLVIII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Lament.\n\n\n\u201cFalse are they all, proved false to-day,\nThe prophets of my fortune, they\nWho in the tranquil time of old\nA blessed life for me foretold,\nPredicting I should never know\nA childless dame\u2019s, a widow\u2019s woe,\nFalse are they all, their words are vain,\nFor thou, my lord and life, art slain.\nFalse was the priest and vain his lore\nWho blessed me in those days of yore\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s side in bliss to reign:\nFor thou, my lord and life, art slain.\nThey hailed me happy from my birth,\nProud empress of the lord of earth.\nThey blessed me\u2014but the thought is pain\u2014\nFor thou, my lord and life, art slain.\nAh, fruitless hope! each glorious sign\nThat stamps the future queen is mine,\nWith no ill-omened mark to show\nA widow\u2019s crushing hour of woe.\nThey say my hair is black and fine,\nThey praise my brows\u2019 continuous line;\nMy even teeth divided well,\nMy bosom for its graceful swell.\nThey praise my feet and fingers oft;\nThey say my skin is smooth and soft,\nAnd call me happy to possess\nThe twelve fair marks that bring success.(955)\nBut ah, what profit shall I gain?\nThou, O my lord and life, art slain.\nThe flattering seer in former days\nMy gentle girlish smile would praise,\nAnd swear that holy water shed\nBy Br\u00e1hman hands upon my head\nShould make me queen, a monarch\u2019s bride:\nHow is the promise verified?\nMatchless in might the brothers slew\nIn Janasth\u00e1n the giant crew.\nAnd forced the indomitable sea\nTo let them pass to rescue me.\nTheirs was the fiery weapon hurled\nBy him who rules the watery world;(956)\nTheirs the dire shaft by Indra sped;\nTheirs was the mystic Brahm\u00e1\u2019s Head.(957)\nIn vain they fought, the bold and brave:\nA coward\u2019s hand their death-wounds gave.\nBy secret shafts and magic spell\nThe brothers, peers of Indra, fell.\nThat foe, if seen by R\u00e1ma\u2019s eye\nOne moment, had not lived to fly.\nThough swift as thought, his utmost speed\nHad failed him in the hour of need.\nNo might, no tear, no prayer may stay\nFate\u2019s dark inevitable day.\nNor could their matchless valour shield\nThese heroes on the battle field.\nI sorrow for the noble dead,\nI mourn my hopes for ever fled;\nBut chief my weeping eyes o\u2019erflow\nFor Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1\u2019s hopeless woe.\nThe widowed queen is counting now\nEach hour prescribed by R\u00e1ma\u2019s vow,\nAnd lives because she longs to see\nOnce more her princely sons and me.\u201d\n\n  Then Trija\u1e6d\u00e1,(958) of gentler mould\nThough R\u00e1kshas born, her grief consoled:\n\u201cDear Queen, thy causeless woe dispel:\nThy husband lives, and all is well.\nLook round: in every V\u00e1nar face\nThe light of joyful hope I trace.\nNot thus, believe me, shine the eyes\nOf warriors when their leader dies.\nAn Army, when the chief is dead,\nFlies from the field dispirited.\nHere, undisturbed in firm array,\nThe V\u00e1nars by the brothers stay.\nLove prompts my speech; no longer grieve;\nPonder my counsel, and believe.\nThese lips of mine from earliest youth\nHave spoken, and shall speak, the truth.\nDeep in my heart thy gentle grace\nAnd patient virtues hold their place.\nTurn, lady, turn once more thine eye:\nThough pierced with shafts the heroes lie,\nOn brows and cheeks with blood-drops wet\nThe light of beauty lingers yet.\nSuch beauty ne\u2019er is found in death,\nBut vanishes with parting breath.\nO, trust the hope these tokens give:\nThe heroes are not dead, but live.\u201d\n\n  Then S\u00edt\u00e1 joined her hands, and sighed,\n\u201cO, may thy words be verified!\u201d\nThe car was turned, which fleet as thought\nThe mourning queen to Lank\u00e1 brought.\nThey led her to the garden, where\nAgain she yielded to despair,\nLamenting for the chiefs who bled\nOn earth\u2019s cold bosom with the dead.\n\n\n\n\nCanto XLIX. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nRanged round the spot where R\u00e1ma fell\nEach V\u00e1nar chief stood sentinel.\nAt length the mighty hero broke\nThe trance that held him, and awoke.\nHe saw his senseless brother, dyed\nWith blood from head to foot, and cried:\n\u201cWhat have I now to do with life\nOr rescue of my prisoned wife,\nWhen thus before my weeping eyes,\nSlain in the fight, my brother lies?\nA queen like S\u00edt\u00e1 I may find\nAmong the best of womankind,\nBut never such a brother, tried\nIn war, my guardian, friend, and guide.\nIf he be dead, the brave and true,\nI will not live but perish too.\nHow, reft of Lakshma\u1e47, shall I meet\nMy mother, and Kaikey\u00ed greet?\nMy brother\u2019s eager question brook,\nAnd fond Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s longing look?\nWhat shall I say, o\u2019erwhelmed with shame\nTo cheer the miserable dame?\nHow, when she hears her son is dead,\nWill her sad heart be comforted?\nAh me, for longer life unfit\nThis mortal body will I quit;\nFor Lakshma\u1e47 slaughtered for my sake,\nFrom sleep of death will never wake.\nAh when I sank oppressed with care,\nThy gentle voice could soothe despair.\nAnd art thou, O my brother, killed?\nIs that dear voice for ever stilled?\nCold are those lips, my brother, whence\nCame never word to breed offence?\nAh stretched upon the gory plain\nMy brother lies untimely slain:\nNumbed is the mighty arm that slew\nThe leaders of the giant crew.\nTransfixed with shafts, with blood-streams red,\nThou liest on thy lowly bed:\nSo sinks to rest, his journey done,\nMid arrowy rays the crimson sun.\nThou, when from home and sire I fled,\nThe wood\u2019s wild ways with me wouldst tread:\nNow close to thine my steps shall be,\nFor I in death will follow thee.\nVibhisha\u1e47 now will curse my name,\nAnd R\u00e1ma as a braggart blame,\nWho promised\u2014but his word is vain\u2014\nThat he in Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle should reign.\nReturn, Sugr\u00edva: reft of me\nLead back thy V\u00e1nars o\u2019er the sea,\nNor hope to battle face to face\nWith him who rules the giant race.\nWell have ye done and nobly fought,\nAnd death in desperate combat sought.\nAll that heroic might can do,\nBrave V\u00e1nars, has been done by you.\nMy faithful friends I now dismiss:\nReturn: my last farewell is this.\u201d\n\n  Bedewed with tears was every cheek\nAs thus the V\u00e1nars heard him speak.\nVibhisha\u1e47 on the field had stayed\nThe V\u00e1nar hosts who fled dismayed.\nNow lifting up his mace on high\nWith martial step the chief drew nigh.\nThe hosts who watched by R\u00e1ma\u2019s side\nBeheld his shape and giant stride.\n\u2019Tis he, \u2019tis R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s son, they thought:\nAnd all in flight their safety sought.\n\n\n\n\nCanto L. The Broken Spell.\n\n\nSugr\u00edva viewed the flying crowd,\nAnd thus to Angad cried aloud:\n\u201cWhy run the trembling hosts, as flee\nStorm-scattered barks across the sea?\u201d\n\u201cDost thou not mark,\u201d the chief replied,\n\u201cTransfixed with shafts, with bloodstreams dyed,\nWith arrowy toils about them wound,\nThe sons of Raghu on the ground?\u201d\n\n  That moment brought Vibhisha\u1e47 near.\nSugr\u00edva knew the cause of fear,\nAnd ordered J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n, who led\nThe bears, to check the hosts that fled.\nThe king of bears his hest obeyed:\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 headlong flight was stayed.\nA little while Vibhisha\u1e47 eyed\nThe brothers fallen side by side.\nHis giant fingers wet with dew\nAcross the heroes\u2019 eyes he drew,\nStill on the pair his sad look bent,\nAnd spoke these word in wild lament:\n\u201cAh for the mighty chiefs brought low\nBy coward hand and stealthy blow!\nBrave pair who loved the open fight,\nSlain by that rover of the night.\nDishonest is the victory won\nBy Indraj\u00edt my brother\u2019s son.\nI on their might for aid relied,\nAnd in my cause they fought and died.\nLost is the hope that soothed each pain:\nI live, but live no more to reign,\nWhile Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord, untouched by ill,\nExults in safe defiance still.\u201d\n\n  \u201cNot thus,\u201d Sugr\u00edva said, \u201crepine,\nFor Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle shall still be thine.\nNor let the tyrant and his son\nExult before the fight be done.\nThese royal chiefs, though now dismayed,\nFreed from the spell by Garu\u1e0d\u2019s aid,\nTriumphant yet the foe shall meet\nAnd lay the robber at their feet.\u201d\n\n  His hope the V\u00e1nar monarch told,\nAnd thus Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s grief consoled.\nThen to Sushe\u1e47 who at his side\nExpectant stood, Sugr\u00edva cried:\n\u201cWhen these regain their strength and sense,\nFly, bear them to Kishkindh\u00e1 hence.\nHere with my legions will I stay,\nThe tyrant and his kinsmen slay,\nAnd, rescued from the giant king,\nThe Maithil lady will I bring,\nLike Glory lost of old, restored\nBy \u015aakra, heaven\u2019s almighty lord.\u201d\n\n  Sushe\u1e47 made answer: \u201cHear me yet:\nWhen Gods and fiends in battle met,\nSo fiercely fought the demon crew,\nSo wild a storm of arrows flew,\nThat heavenly warriors faint with pain,\nSank smitten by the ceaseless rain.\nV\u1e5bihaspati,(959) with herb and spell,\nCured the sore wounds of those who fell.\nAnd, skilled in arts that heal and save,\nNew life and sense and vigour gave.\nFar, on the Milky Ocean\u2019s shore,\nStill grow those herbs in boundless store;\nLet swiftest V\u00e1nars thither speed\nAnd bring them for our utmost need.\nThose herbs that on the mountain spring\nLet Panas and Samp\u00e1ti bring,\nFor well the wondrous leaves they know,\nThat heal each wound and life bestow.\nBeside that sea which, churned of yore,\nThe amrit on its surface bore,\nWhere the white billows lash the land,\nChandra\u2019s fair height and Dro\u1e47a stand.\nPlanted by Gods each glittering steep\nLooks down upon the milky deep.\nLet fleet Han\u00fam\u00e1n bring us thence\nThose herbs of wondrous influence.\u201d\n\n  Meanwhile the rushing wind grew loud,\nRed lightnings flashed from banks of cloud.\nThe mountains shook, the wild waves rose,\nAnd smitten with resistless blows\nUnrooted fell each stately tree\nThat fringed the margin of the sea.\nAll life within the waters feared\nThen, as the V\u00e1nars gazed, appeared\nKing Garu\u1e0d\u2019s self, a wondrous sight,\nDisclosed in flames of fiery light.\nFrom his fierce eye in sudden dread\nAll serpents in a moment fled.\nAnd those transformed to shaft that bound\nThe princes vanished in the ground.\nOn Raghu\u2019s sons his eyes he bent,\nAnd hailed the lords armipotent.\nThen o\u2019er them stooped the feathered king,\nAnd touched their faces with his wing.\nHis healing touch their pangs allayed,\nAnd closed each rent the shafts had made.\nAgain their eyes were bright and bold,\nAgain the smooth skin shone like gold.\nAgain within their shell enshrined\nCame memory and each power of mind:\nAnd, from those numbing bonds released,\nTheir spirit, zeal, and strength increased.\nFirm on their feet they stood, and then\nThus R\u00e1ma spake, the lord of men:\n\n  \u201cBy thy dear grace in sorest need\nFrom deadly bonds we both are freed.\nTo these glad eyes as welcome now\nAs Aja(960) or my sire art thou.\nWho art thou, mighty being? say,\nThus glorious in thy bright array.\u201d\nHe ceased: the king of birds replied,\nWhile flashed his eye with joy and pride:\n\u201cIn me, O Raghu\u2019s son, behold\nOne who has loved thee from of old:\nGaru\u1e0d, the lord of all that fly,\nThy guardian and thy friend am I.\nNot all the Gods in heaven could loose\nThese numbing bonds, this serpent noose,\nWherewith fierce R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s son, renowned\nFor magic arts, your limbs had bound.\nThose arrows fixed in every limb\nWere mighty snakes, transformed by him.\nBlood thirsty race, they live beneath\nThe earth, and slay with venomed teeth.\nOn, smite the lord of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle,\nBut guard you from the giants\u2019 guile\nWho each dishonest art employ\nAnd by deceit brave foes destroy.\nSo shall the tyrant R\u00e1va\u1e47 bleed,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 from his power be freed.\u201d\nThus Garu\u1e0d spake: then, swift as thought,\nThe region of the sky he sought,\nWhere in the distance like a blaze\nOf fire he vanished from the gaze.\n\n  Then the glad V\u00e1nars\u2019 joy rang out\nIn many a wild tumultuous shout,\nAnd the loud roar of drum and shell\nStartled each distant sentinel.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LI. Dh\u00famr\u00e1ksha\u2019s Sally.\n\n\nKing R\u00e1va\u1e47, where he sat within,\nHeard from his hall the deafening din,\nAnd with a spirit ill at ease\nAddressed his lords in words like these:\n\n  \u201cThat warlike shout, those joyous cries,\nLoud as the thunder of the skies,\nUpsent from every V\u00e1nar throat,\nSome new-born confidence denote.\nHark, how the sea and trembling shore\nRe-echo with the V\u00e1nars\u2019 roar.\nThough arrowy chains, securely twined\nBoth R\u00e1ma and his brother bind,\nStill must the fierce triumphant shout\nDisturb my soul with rising doubt.\nSwift envoys to the army send,\nAnd learn what change these cries portend.\u201d\n\n  Obedient, at their master\u2019s call,\nFleet giants clomb the circling wall.\nThey saw the V\u00e1nars formed and led:\nThey saw Sugr\u00edva at their head,\nThe brothers from their bonds released:\nAnd hope grew faint and fear increased.\nTheir faces pale with doubt and dread,\nBack to the giant king they sped,\nAnd to his startled ear revealed\nThe tidings of the battle field.\n\n  The flush of rage a while gave place\nTo chilling fear that changed his face:\n\n  \u201cWhat?\u201d cried the tyrant, \u201care my foes\nFreed from the binding snakes that close\nWith venomed clasp round head and limb,\nBright as the sun and fierce like him:\nThe spell a God bestowed of yore,\nThe spell that never failed before?\nIf arts like these be useless, how\nShall giant strength avail us now?\nGo forth, Dh\u00famr\u00e1ksha, good at need,\nThe bravest of my warriors lead:\nForce through the foe thy conquering way,\nAnd R\u00e1ma and the V\u00e1nars slay.\u201d\n\n  Before his king with reverence due\nDh\u00famr\u00e1ksha bowed him, and withdrew.\nAround him at his summons came\nFierce legions led by chiefs of fame.\nWell armed with sword and spear and mace,\nThey hurried to the gathering place,\nAnd rushed to battle, borne at speed\nBy elephant and car and steed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LII. Dh\u00famr\u00e1ksha\u2019s Death.\n\n\nThe V\u00e1nars saw the giant foe\nPour from the gate in gallant show,\nRejoiced with warriors\u2019 fierce delight\nAnd shouted, longing for the fight.\nNear came the hosts and nearer yet:\nDire was the tumult as they met,\nAs, serried line to line opposed,\nThe V\u00e1nars and the giants closed.\nFierce on the foe the V\u00e1nars rushed,\nAnd, wielding trees, the foremost crushed;\nBut, feathered from the heron\u2019s wing,\nWith eager flight from sounding string,\nAgainst them shot with surest aim\nA ceaseless storm of arrows came:\nAnd, pierced in head and chest and side,\nFull many a V\u00e1nar fell and died.\nThey perished slain in fierce attacks\nWith sword and pike and battle-axe;\nBut myriads following undismayed\nTheir valour in the fight displayed.\nUnnumbered V\u00e1nars rent and torn\nWith shaft and spear to earth were borne.\nBut crushed by branchy trees and blocks\nOf jagged stone and shivered rocks\nWhich the wild V\u00e1nars wielded well\nThe bravest of the giants fell.\nTheir trampled banners strewed the fields,\nAnd broken swords and spears and shields;\nAnd, crushed by blows which none might stay,\nCars, elephants, and riders lay.\nDh\u00famr\u00e1ksha turned his furious eye\nAnd saw his routed legions fly.\nStill dauntless, with terrific blows,\nHe struck and slew his foremost foes.\nAt every blow, at every thrust,\nHe laid a V\u00e1nar in the dust.\nSo fell they neath the sword and lance\nIn battle\u2019s wild Gandharva(961) dance,\nWhere clang of bow and clash of sword\nDid duty for the silvery chord,\nAnd hoofs that rang and steeds that neighed\nLoud concert for the dancers made.\nSo fiercely from Dh\u00famr\u00e1ksha\u2019s bow\nHis arrows rained in ceaseless flow,\nThe V\u00e1nar legions turned and fled\nTo all the winds discomfited.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n saw the V\u00e1nars fly;\nHe heaved a mighty rock on high.\nHis keen eyes flashed with wrathful fire,\nAnd, rapid as the Wind his sire,\nStrong as the rushing tempests are,\nHe hurled it at the advancing car.\nSwift through the air the missile sang:\nThe giant from the chariot sprang,\nEre crushed by that terrific blow\nLay pole and wheel and flag and bow.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s eyes with fury blazed:\nA mountain\u2019s rocky peak he raised,\nPoised it on high in act to throw,\nAnd rushed upon his giant foe.\nDh\u00famr\u00e1ksha saw: he raised his mace\nAnd smote Han\u00fam\u00e1n on the face,\nWho maddened by the wound\u2019s keen pang\nAgain upon his foeman sprang;\nAnd on the giant\u2019s head the rock\nDescended with resistless shock.\nCrushed was each limb: a shapeless mass\nHe lay upon the blood-stained grass.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIII. Vajradanshtra\u2019s Sally.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1va\u1e47 in his palace heard\nThe mournful news, his wrath was stirred;\nAnd, gasping like a furious snake,\nTo Vajradansh\u1e6dra thus he spake:\n\n  \u201cGo forth, my fiercest captain, lead\nThe bravest of the giants\u2019 breed.\nGo forth, the sons of Raghu slay\nAnd by their side Sugr\u00edva lay.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the chieftain bowed his head\nAnd forth with gathered troops he sped.\nCars, camels, steeds were well arrayed,\nAnd coloured banners o\u2019er them played.\nRings decked his arms: about his waist\nThe life-protecting mail was braced,\nAnd on the chieftain\u2019s forehead set\nGlittered his cap and coronet.\nBorne on a bannered car that glowed\nWith golden sheen the warrior rode,\nAnd footmen marched with spear and sword\nAnd bow and mace behind their lord.\nIn pomp and pride of warlike state\nThey sallied from the southern gate,\nBut saw, as on their way they sped,\nDread signs around and overhead.\nFor there were meteors falling fast,\nThough not a cloud its shadow cast;\nAnd each ill-omened bird and beast,\nForboding death, the fear increased,\nWhile many a giant slipped and reeled,\nFalling before he reached the field.\nThey met in mortal strife engaged,\nAnd long and fierce the battle raged.\nSpears, swords uplifted, gleamed and flashed,\nAnd many a chief to earth was dashed.\nA ceaseless storm of arrows rained,\nAnd limbs were pierced and blood-distained.\nTerrific was the sound that filled\nThe air, and every heart was chilled,\nAs hurtling o\u2019er the giants flew\nThe rocks and trees which V\u00e1nars threw.\nFierce as a hungry lion when\nUnwary deer approach his den,\nAngad, his eyes with fury red,\nWaving a tree above his head,\nRushed with wild charge which none could stay\nWhere stood the giants\u2019 dense array.\nLike tall trees levelled by the blast\nBefore him fell the giants fast,\nAnd earth that streamed with blood was strown\nWith warriors, steeds, and cars o\u2019erthrown.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIV. Vajradanshtra\u2019s Death.\n\n\nThe giant leader fiercely rained\nHis arrows and the fight maintained.\nEach time the clanging cord he drew\nHis certain shaft a V\u00e1nar slew.\nThen, as the creatures he has made\nFly to the Lord of Life for aid,\nTo Angad for protection fled\nThe V\u00e1nar hosts dispirited.\nThen raged the battle fiercer yet\nWhen Angad and the giant met.\nA hundred thousand arrows, hot\nWith flames of fire, the giant shot;\nAnd every shaft he deftly sent\nHis foeman\u2019s body pierced and rent.\nFrom Angad\u2019s limbs ran floods of gore:\nA stately tree from earth he tore,\nWhich, maddened as his gashes bled,\nHe hurled at his opponent\u2019s head.\nHis bow the dauntless giant drew;\nTo meet the tree swift arrows flew,\nChecked the huge missile\u2019s onward way,\nAnd harmless on the earth it lay.\nA while the V\u00e1nar chieftain gazed,\nThen from the earth a rock he raised\nRent from a thunder-splitten height,\nAnd cast it with resistless might.\nThe giant marked, and, mace in hand,\nLeapt from his chariot to the sand,\nEre the rough mass descending broke\nThe seat, the wheel, the pole and yoke.\n\n  Then Angad seized a shattered hill,\nWhereon the trees were flowering still,\nAnd with full force the jagged peak\nFell crashing on the giant\u2019s cheek.\nHe staggered, reeled, and fell: the blood\nGushed from the giant in a flood.\nReft of his might, each sense astray,\nA while upon the sand he lay.\nBut strength and wandering sense returned\nAgain his eyes with fury burned,\nAnd with his mace upraised on high\nHe wounded Angad on the thigh.\nThen from his hand his mace he threw,\nAnd closer to his foeman drew.\nThen with their fists they fought, and smote\nOn brow and cheek and chest and throat.\nWorn out with toil, their limbs bedewed,\nWith blood, the strife they still renewed,\nLike Mercury and fiery Mars\nMet in fierce battle mid the stars.\n\n  A while the deadly fight was stayed:\nEach armed him with his trusty blade\nWhose sheath with tinkling bells supplied,\nAnd golden net, adorned his side;\nAnd grasped his ponderous leather shield\nTo fight till one should fall or yield.\nUnnumbered wounds they gave and took:\nTheir wearied bodies reeled and shook.\nAt length upon the sand that drank\nStreams of their blood the warriors sank,\nBut as a serpent rears his head\nSore wounded by a peasant\u2019s tread,\nSo Angad, fallen on his knees,\nYet gathered strength his sword to seize;\nAnd, severed by the glittering blade,\nThe giant\u2019s head on earth was laid.\n\n[I omit Cantos LV, LVI, LVII, and LVIII, which relate how Akampan and\nPrahasta sally out and fall. There is little novelty of incident in these\nCantos and the results are exactly the same as before. In Canto LV,\nAkampan, at the command of R\u00e1va\u1e47, leads forth his troops. Evil omens are\nseen and heard. The enemies meet, and many fall on each side, the V\u00e1nars\ntransfixed with arrows, the R\u00e1kshases crushed with rocks and trees.\n\nIn Canto LVI Akampan sees that the R\u00e1kshases are worsted, and fights with\nredoubled rage and vigour. The V\u00e1nars fall fast under his \u201cnets of\narrows.\u201d Hanum\u00e1n comes to the rescue. He throws mountain peaks at the\ngiant which are dexterously stopped with flights of arrows; and at last\nbeats him down and kills him with a tree.\n\nIn Canto LVII, R\u00e1va\u1e47 is seriously alarmed. He declares that he himself,\nKumbhakar\u1e47a or Prahasta, must go forth. Prahasta sallies out vaunting that\nthe fowls of the air shall eat their fill of V\u00e1nar flesh.\n\nIn Canto LVIII, the two armies meet. Dire is the conflict; ceaseless is\nthe rain of stones and arrows. At last N\u00edla meets Prahasta and breaks his\nbow. Prahasta leaps from his car, and the giant and the V\u00e1nar fight on\nfoot. N\u00edla with a huge tree crushes his opponent who falls like a tree\nwhen its roots are cut.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto LIX. R\u00e1van\u2019s Sally.\n\n\nThey told him that the chief was killed,\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s breast with rage was filled.\nThen, fiercely moved by wrath and pride,\nThus to his lords the tyrant cried:\n\n  \u201cNo longer, nobles, may we show\nThis lofty scorn for such a foe\nBy whom our bravest, with his train\nOf steeds and elephants, is slain.\nMyself this day will take the field,\nAnd Raghu\u2019s sons their lives shall yield.\u201d\n\n  High on the royal car, that glowed\nWith glory from his face, he rode;\nAnd tambour shell and drum pealed out,\nAnd joyful was each giant\u2019s shout.\nA mighty host, with eyeballs red\nLike flames of kindled fire, he led.\nHe passed the city gate, and viewed,\nArrayed, the V\u00e1nar multitude,\nThose wielding massy rocks, and these\nArmed with the stems of uptorn trees,\nAnd R\u00e1ma with his eyes aglow\nWith warlike ardour viewed the foe,\nAnd thus the brave Vibhisha\u1e47, best\nOf weapon-wielding chiefs, addressed:\n\u201cWhat captain leads this bright array\nWhere lances gleam and banners play,\nAnd thousands armed with spear and sword\nAwait the bidding of their lord?\u201d\n\n  \u201cSeest, thou,\u201d Vibhisha\u1e47 answered, \u201cone\nWhose face is as the morning sun,\nPre\u00ebminent for hugest frame?\nAkampan(962) is the giant\u2019s name.\nBehold that chieftain, chariot-borne,\nWhom Brahm\u00e1\u2019s chosen gifts adorn.\nHe wields a bow like Indra\u2019s own;\nA lion on his flag is shown,\nHis eyes with baleful fire are lit:\n\u2019Tis R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s son, \u2019tis Indraj\u00edt.\nThere, brandishing in mighty hands\nHis huge bow, Atik\u00e1ya stands.\nAnd that proud warrior o\u2019er whose head\nA moon-bright canopy is spread:\nWhose might, in many a battle tried,\nHas tamed imperial Indra\u2019s pride;\nWho wears a crown of burnished gold,\nIs Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord the lofty-souled.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and R\u00e1ma knew his foe,\nAnd laid an arrow on his bow:\n\u201cWoe to the wretch,\u201d he cried, \u201cwhom fate\nAbandons to my deadly hate.\u201d\nHe spoke, and, firm by Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side,\nThe giant to the fray defied.\nThe lord of Lank\u00e1 bade his train\nOf warriors by the gates remain,\nTo guard the city from surprise\nBy R\u00e1ma\u2019s forest born allies.\nThen as some monster of the sea\nCleaves swift-advancing billows, he\nCharged with impetuous onset through\nThe foe, and cleft the host in two.\nSugr\u00edva ran, the king to meet:\nA hill uprooted from its seat\nHe hurled, with trees that graced the height\nAgainst the rover of the night:\nBut cleft with shafts that checked its way\nHarmless upon the earth it lay.\nThen fiercer R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s fury grew,\nAn arrow from his side he drew,\nSwift as a thunderbolt, aglow\nWith fire, and launched it at the foe.\nThrough flesh and bone a way it found,\nAnd stretched Sugr\u00edva on the ground.\nSushe\u1e47 and Nala saw him fall,\nGav\u00e1ksha, Gavaya heard their call,\nAnd, poising hills, in act to fling\nThey charged amain the giant king.\nThey charged, they hurled the hills in vain,\nHe checked them with his arrowy rain,\nAnd every brave assailant felt\nThe piercing wounds his missiles dealt,\nThen smitten by the shafts that came\nKeen, fleet, and thick, with certain aim,\nThey fled to R\u00e1ma, sure defence\nAgainst the oppressor\u2019s violence,\nThen, reverent palm to palm applied,\nThus Lakshma\u1e47 to his brother cried:\n\u201cTo me, my lord, the task entrust\nTo lay this giant in the dust.\u201d\n\u201cGo, then,\u201d said R\u00e1ma, \u201cbravely fight;\nBeat down this rover of the night.\nBut he, unmatched in bold emprise,\nFears not the Lord of earth and skies,\nKeep on thy guard: with keenest eye\nThy moments of attack espy.\nLet hand and eye in due accord\nProtect thee with the bow and sword.\u201d\n\n  Then Lakshma\u1e47 round his brother threw\nHis mighty arms in honour due,\nBent lowly down his reverent head,\nAnd onward to the battle sped.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n from afar beheld\nHow R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s shafts the V\u00e1nars quelled:\nTo meet the giant\u2019s car he ran,\nRaised his right arm and thus began:\n\u201cIf Brahm\u00e1\u2019s boon thy life has screened\nFrom Yaksha, God, Gandharva, fiend,\nWith these contending fear no ill,\nBut tremble at a V\u00e1nar still.\u201d\nWith fury flashing from his eye\nThe lord of Lank\u00e1 made reply:\n\u201cStrike, V\u00e1nar, strike: the fray begin,\nAnd hope eternal fame to win.\nThis arm shall prove thee in the strife\nAnd end thy glory and thy life.\u201d\n\u201cRemember,\u201d cried the Wind-God\u2019s son,\n\u201cRemember all that I have done,\nMy prowess, King, thou knowest well,\nShown in the fight when Aksha(963) fell.\u201d\n\n  With heavy hand the giant smote\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n on the chest and throat,\nWho reeled and staggered to and fro,\nStunned for a moment by the blow.\nTill, mustering strength, his hand he reared\nAnd struck the foe whom Indra feared.\nHis huge limbs bent beneath the shock,\nAs mountains, in an earthquake, rock,\nAnd from the Gods and sages pealed\nShouts of loud triumph as he reeled.\nBut strength returning nerved his frame:\nHis eyeballs flashed with fiercer flame.\nNo living creature might resist\nThat blow of his tremendous fist\nWhich fell upon Han\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s flank:\nAnd to the ground the V\u00e1nar sank,\nNo sign of life his body showed:\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 in his chariot rode\nAt N\u00edla; and his arrowy rain\nFell on the captain and his train.\nFierce N\u00edla stayed his V\u00e1nar band,\nAnd, heaving with his single hand\nA mountain peak, with vigorous swing\nHurled the huge missile at the king.\n\n  Han\u00fam\u00e1n life and strength regained,\nBurned for the fight and thus complained:\n\u201cWhy, coward giant, didst thou flee\nAnd leave the doubtful fight with me?\u201d\nSeven mighty arrows keen and fleet\nThe giant launched, the hill to meet;\nAnd, all its force and fury stayed,\nThe harmless mass on earth was laid.\nEnraged the V\u00e1nar chief beheld\nThe mountain peak by force repelled,\nAnd rained upon the foe a shower\nOf trees uptorn with branch and flower.\nStill his keen shafts which pierced and rent\nEach flying tree the giant sent:\nStill was the V\u00e1nar doomed to feel\nThe tempest of the winged steel.\nThen, smarting from that arrowy storm,\nThe V\u00e1nar chief condensed his form,(964)\nAnd lightly leaping from the ground\nOn R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s standard footing found;\nThen springing unimpeded down\nStood on his bow and golden crown.\nThe V\u00e1nar\u2019s nimble leaps amazed\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son who stood and gazed.\nThe giant, raging in his heart,\nLaid on his bow a fiery dart;\nThe V\u00e1nar on his flagstaff eyed,\nAnd thus in tones of fury cried:\n\u201cWell skilled in magic lore art thou:\nBut will thine art avail thee now?\nSee if thy magic will defend\nThy life against the dart I send.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1va\u1e47 spake, the giant king,\nAnd loosed the arrow from the string.\nIt pierced, with direst fury sped,\nThe V\u00e1nar with its flaming head.\nHis father\u2019s might, his power innate\nPreserved him from the threatened fate.\nUpon his knees he fell, distained\nWith streams of blood, but life remained.\n\n  Still R\u00e1va\u1e47 for the battle burned:\nAt Lakshma\u1e47 next his car he turned,\nAnd charged amain with furious show,\nStraining in mighty hands his bow.\n\u201cCome,\u201d Lakshma\u1e47 cried, \u201cassay the fight:\nLeave foes unworthy of thy might.\u201d\nThus Lakshma\u1e47 spoke: and Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord\nHeard the dread thunder of the cord.\nAnd mad with burning rage and pride\nIn hasty words like these replied:\n\u201cJoy, joy is mine, O Raghu\u2019s son:\nThy fate to-day thou canst not shun.\nSlain by mine arrows thou shalt tread\nThe gloomy pathway of the dead.\u201d\n\n  Thus as he spoke his bow he drew,\nAnd seven keen shafts at Lakshma\u1e47 flew,\nBut Raghu\u2019s son with surest aim\nCleft every arrow as it came.\nThus with fleet shafts each warrior shot\nAgainst his foe, and rested not.\nThen one choice weapon from his store,\nBy Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self bestowed of yore,\nFierce as the flames that end the world,\nThe giant king at Lakshma\u1e47 hurled.\nThe hero fell, and racked with pain,\nScarce could his hand his bow retain.\nBut sense and strength resumed their seat\nAnd, lightly springing to his feet,\nHe struck with one tremendous stroke\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s bow in splinters broke.\nFrom Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s cord three arrows flew\nAnd pierced the giant monarch through.\nSore wounded R\u00e1va\u1e47 closed, and round\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son his strong arms wound.\nWith strength unrivalled, Brahm\u00e1\u2019s gift,\nHe strove from earth his foe to lift.\n\u201cShall I,\u201d he cried, \u201cwho overthrow\nMount Meru and the Lord of Snow,\nAnd heaven and all who dwell therein,\nBe foiled by one of R\u00e1ma\u2019s kin?\u201d\nBut though he heaved, and toiled, and strained,\nUnmoved Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son remained.\nHis frame by those huge arms compressed\nThe giant\u2019s God-given force confessed,\nBut conscious that himself was part\nOf Vish\u1e47u, he was firm in heart.\n\n  The Wind-God\u2019s son the fight beheld,\nAnd rushed at R\u00e1va\u1e47, rage-impelled.\nDown crashed his mighty hand; the foe\nFull in the chest received the blow.\nHis eyes grew dim, his knees gave way,\nAnd senseless on the earth he lay.\n\n  The Wind-God\u2019s son to R\u00e1ma bore\nDeep-wounded Lakshma\u1e47 stained with gore.\nHe whom no foe might lift or bend\nWas light as air to such a friend.\nThe dart that Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side had cleft,\nUntouched, the hero\u2019s body left,\nAnd flashing through the air afar\nResumed its place in R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s car;\nAnd, waxing well though wounded sore,\nHe felt the deadly pain no more.\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47, though with deep wounds pained,\nSlowly his sense and strength regained,\nAnd furious still and undismayed\nOn bow and shaft his hand he laid.\n\n  Then Hanum\u00e1n to R\u00e1ma cried:\n\u201cAscend my back, great chief, and ride\nLike Vish\u1e47u borne on Garu\u1e0d\u2019s wing,\nTo battle with the giant king.\u201d\nSo, burning for the dire attack,\nRode R\u00e1ma on the V\u00e1nar\u2019s back,\nAnd with fierce accents loud and slow\nThus gave defiance to the foe,\nWhile his strained bowstring made a sound\nLike thunder when it shakes the ground:\n\u201cStay, Monarch of the giants, stay,\nThe penalty of sin to pay.\nStay! whither wilt thou fly, and how\nEscape the death that waits thee now?\u201d\n\n  No word the giant king returned:\nHis eyes with flames of fury burned.\nHis arm was stretched, his bow was bent,\nAnd swift his fiery shafts were sent.\nRed torrents from the V\u00e1nar flowed:\nThen R\u00e1ma near to R\u00e1va\u1e47 strode,\nAnd with keen darts that never failed,\nThe chariot of the king assailed.\nWith surest aim his arrows flew:\nThe driver and the steeds he slew.\nAnd shattered with the pointed steel\nCar, flag, and pole and yoke and wheel.\nAs Indra hurls his bolt to smite\nMount Meru\u2019s heaven-ascending height,\nSo R\u00e1ma with a flaming dart\nStruck Lank\u00e1\u2019s monarch near the heart,\nWho reeled and fell beneath the blow\nAnd from loose fingers dropped his bow.\nBright as the sun, with crescent head,\nFrom R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow an arrow sped,\nAnd from his forehead, proud no more,\nCleft the bright coronet he wore.\nThen R\u00e1ma stood by R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s side\nAnd to the conquered giant cried:\n\u201cWell hast thou fought: thine arm has slain\nStrong heroes of the V\u00e1nar train.\nI will not strike or slay thee now,\nFor weary, faint with fight art thou.\nTo Lank\u00e1\u2019s town thy footsteps bend,\nAnd there the night securely spend.\nTo-morrow come with car and bow,\nAnd then my prowess shalt thou know.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the king in humbled pride\nRose from the earth and naught replied.\nWith wounded limbs and shattered crown\nHe sought again his royal town.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LX. Kumbhakarna Roused.\n\n\nWith humbled heart and broken pride\nThrough Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate the giant hied,\nCrushed, like an elephant beneath\nA lion\u2019s spring and murderous teeth,\nOr like a serpent \u2019neath the wing\nAnd talons of the Feathered King.\nSuch was the giant\u2019s wild alarm\nAt arrows shot by R\u00e1ma\u2019s arm;\nShafts with red lightning round them curled,\nLike Brahm\u00e1\u2019s bolts that end the world.\n\n  Supported on his golden throne,\nWith failing eye and humbled tone,\n\u201cGiants,\u201d he cried, \u201cthe toil is vain,\nFruitless the penance and the pain,\nIf I whom Indra owned his peer,\nSecure from Gods, a mortal fear.\nMy soul remembers, now too late,\nLord Brahm\u00e1\u2019s words who spoke my fate:\n\u201cTremble, proud Giant,\u201d thus they ran,\n\u201cAnd dread thy death from slighted man.\nSecure from Gods and demons live,\nAnd serpents, by the boon I give.\nAgainst their power thy life is charmed,\nBut against man is still unarmed.\u201d\nThis R\u00e1ma is the man foretold\nBy Anara\u1e47ya\u2019s(965) lips of old:\n\n  \u201cFear, R\u00e1va\u1e47, basest of the base:\nFor of mine own imperial race\nA prince in after time shall spring\nAnd thee and thine to ruin bring.\nAnd Vedavat\u00ed,(966) ere she died\nSlain by my ruthless insult, cried:\n\u201cA scion of my royal line\nShall slay, vile wretch, both thee and thine.\u201d\nShe in a later birth became\nKing Janak\u2019s child, now R\u00e1ma\u2019s dame.\nNand\u00ed\u015bvara(967) foretold this fate,\nAnd Um\u00e1(968) when I moved her hate,\nAnd Rambh\u00e1,(969) and the lovely child\nOf Varu\u1e47(970) by my touch defiled.\nI know the fated hour is nigh:\nHence, captains, to your stations fly.\nLet warders on the rampart stand:\nPlace at each gate a watchful band;\nAnd, terror of immortal eyes,\nLet mightiest Kumbhakar\u1e47a rise.\nHe, slumbering, free from care and pain,\nBy Brahm\u00e1\u2019s curse, for months has lain.\nBut when Prahasta\u2019s death he hears,\nMine own defeat and doubts and fears,\nThe chief will rise to smite the foe\nAnd his unrivalled valour show.\nThen Raghu\u2019s royal sons and all\nThe V\u00e1nars neath his might will fall.\u201d\n\n  The giant lords his hest obeyed,\nThey left him, trembling and afraid,\nAnd from the royal palace strode\nTo Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s vast abode.\nThey carried garlands sweet and fresh,\nAnd reeking loads of blood and flesh.\nThey reached the dwelling where he lay,\nA cave that reached a league each way,\nSweet with fair blooms of lovely scent\nAnd bright with golden ornament.\nHis breathings came so fierce and fast,\nScarce could the giants brook the blast.\nThey found him on a golden bed\nWith his huge limbs at length outspread.\nThey piled their heaps of venison near,\nFat buffaloes and boars and deer.\nWith wreaths of flowers they fanned his face,\nAnd incense sweetened all the place.\nEach raised his mighty voice as loud\nAs thunders of an angry cloud,\nAnd conchs their stirring summons gave\nThat echoed through the giant\u2019s cave.\nThen on his breast they rained their blows,\nAnd high the wild commotion rose\nWhen cymbal vied with drum and horn.\nAnd war cries on the gale upborne.\nThrough all the air loud discord spread,\nAnd, struck with fear, the birds fell dead.\nBut still he slept and took his rest.\nThen dashed they on his shaggy chest\nClubs, maces, fragments of the rock:\nHe moved not once, nor felt the shock.\nThe giants made one effort more\nWith shell and drum and shout and roar.\nClub, mallet, mace, in fury plied,\nRained blows upon his breast and side.\nAnd elephants were urged to aid,\nAnd camels groaned and horses neighed.\nThey drenched him with a hundred pails,\nThey tore his ears with teeth and nails.\nThey bound together many a mace\nAnd beat him on the head and face;\nAnd elephants with ponderous tread\nStamped on his limbs and chest and head.\nThe unusual weight his slumber broke:\nHe started, shook his sides, and woke;\nAnd, heedless of the wounds and blows,\nYawning with thirst and hunger rose,\nHis jaws like hell gaped fierce and wide,\nDire as the flame neath ocean\u2019s tide.\nRed as the sun on Meru\u2019s crest\nThe giant\u2019s face his wrath expressed,\nAnd every burning breath he drew\nWas like the blast that rushes through\nThe mountain cedars. Up he raised\nHis awful head with eyes that blazed\nLike comets, dire as Death in form\nWho threats the worlds with fire and storm.\nThe giants pointed to their stores\nOf buffaloes and deer and boars,\nAnd straight he gorged him with a flood\nOf wine, with marrow, flesh, and blood.\nHe ceased: the giants ventured near\nAnd bent their lowly heads in fear.\nThen Kumbhakar[n.]a glared with eyes\nStill heavy in their first surprise,\nStill drowsy from his troubled rest,\nAnd thus the giant band addressed.\n\u201cHow have ye dared my sleep to break?\nNo trifling cause should bid me wake.\nSay, is all well? or tell the need\nThat drives you with unruly speed\nTo wake me. Mark the words I say,\nThe king shall tremble in dismay,\nThe fire be quenched and Indra slain\nEre ye shall break my rest in vain.\u201d\n\n  Y\u00fap\u00e1ksha answered: \u201cChieftain, hear;\nNo God or fiend excites our fear.\nBut men in arms our walls assail:\nWe tremble lest their might prevail.\nFor vengeful R\u00e1ma vows to slay\nThe foe who stole his queen away,\nAnd, matchless for his warlike deeds,\nA host of mighty V\u00e1nars leads.\nEre now a monstrous V\u00e1nar came,\nLaid Lank\u00e1 waste with ruthless flame,\nAnd Aksha, R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s offspring, slew\nWith all his warrior retinue.\nOur king who never trembled yet\nFor heavenly hosts in battle met,\nAt length the general dread has shared,\nO\u2019erthrown by R\u00e1ma\u2019s arm and spared.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and Kumbhakar\u1e47a spake:\n\u201cI will go forth and vengeance take;\nWill tread their hosts beneath my feet,\nThen triumph-flushed our king will meet.\nOur giant bands shall eat their fill\nOf V\u00e1nars whom this arm shall kill.\nThe princes\u2019 blood shall be my draught,\nThe chieftains\u2019 shall by you be quaffed.\u201d\nHe spake, and, with an eager stride\nThat shook the earth, to R\u00e1va\u1e47 hied.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXI. The V\u00e1nars\u2019 Alarm.\n\n\nThe son of Raghu near the wall\nSaw, proudly towering over all,\nThe mighty giant stride along\nAttended by the warrior throng;\nHeard Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s heavy feet\nAwake the echoes of the street;\nAnd, with the lust of battle fired,\nTurned to Vibhisha\u1e47 and inquired:\n\u201cVibhisha\u1e47, tell that chieftain\u2019s name\nWho rears so high his mountain frame;\nWith glittering helm and lion eyes,\nPre\u00ebminent in might and size\nAbove the rest of giant birth,\nHe towers the standard of the earth;\nAnd all the V\u00e1nars when they see\nThe mighty warrior turn and flee.\u201d\n\n  \u201cIn him,\u201d Vibhisha\u1e47 answered, \u201cknow\nVi\u015bravas\u2019 son, the Immortals\u2019 foe,\nFierce Kumbhakar\u1e47a, mightier far\nThan Gods and fiends and giants are.\nHe conquered Y\u00e1ma in the fight,\nAnd Indra trembling owned his might.\nHis arm the Gods and fiends subdued,\nGandharvas and the serpent brood.\nThe rest of his gigantic race\nAre wondrous strong by God-giving grace;\nBut nature at his birth to him\nGave matchless power and strength of limb.\nScarce was he born, fierce monster, when\nHe killed and ate a thousand men.\nThe trembling race of men, appalled,\nOn Indra for protection called;\nAnd he, to save the suffering world,\nHis bolt at Kumbhakar\u1e47a hurled.\nSo awful was the monster\u2019s yell\nThat fear on all the nations fell,\nHe, rushing on with furious roar,\nA tusk from huge Air\u00e1vat tore,\nAnd dealt the God so dire a blow\nThat Indra reeling left his foe,\nAnd with the Gods and mortals fled\nTo Brahm\u00e1\u2019s throne dispirited.\n\u201cO Brahm\u00e1,\u201d thus the suppliants cried,\n\u201cSome refuge for this woe provide.\nIf thus his maw the giant sate\nSoon will the world be desolate.\u201d\nThe Self-existent calmed their woe,\nAnd spake in anger to their foe:\n\u201cAs thou wast born, Pulastya\u2019s son,\nThat worlds might weep by thee undone,\nThou like the dead henceforth shalt be:\nSuch is the curse I lay on thee.\u201d\nSenseless he lay, nor spoke nor stirred;\nSuch was the power of Brahm\u00e1\u2019s word.\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47, troubled for his sake,\nThus to the Self-existent spake:\n\u201cWho lops the tree his care has reared\nWhen golden fruit has first appeared?\nNot thus, O Brahm\u00e1, deal with one\nDescended from thine own dear son.(971)\nStill thou, O Lord, thy word must keep,\nHe may not die, but let him sleep.\nYet fix a time for him to break\nThe chains of slumber and awake.\u201d\nHe ceased: and Brahm\u00e1 made reply;\n\u201cSix months in slumber shall he lie\nAnd then arising for a day\nShall cast the numbing bonds away.\u201d\nNow R\u00e1va\u1e47 in his doubt and dread\nHas roused the monster from his bed,\nWho comes in this the hour of need\nOn slaughtered V\u00e1nars flesh to feed.\nEach V\u00e1nar, when his awe-struck eyes\nBehold the monstrous chieftain, flies.\nWith hopeful words their minds deceive,\nAnd let our trembling hosts believe\nThey see no giant, but, displayed,\nA lifeless engine deftly made.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma called to N\u00edla: \u201cHaste,\nLet troops near every gate be placed,\nAnd, armed with fragments of the rock\nAnd trees, each lane and alley block.\u201d\nThus R\u00e1ma spoke: the chief obeyed,\nAnd swift the V\u00e1nars stood arrayed,\nAs when the black clouds their battle form,\nThe summit of a hill to storm.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Request.\n\n\nAlong bright Lank\u00e1\u2019s royal road\nThe giant, roused from slumber, strode,\nWhile from the houses on his head\nA rain of fragrant flowers was shed.\nHe reached the monarch\u2019s gate whereon\nRich gems and golden fretwork shone.\nThrough court and corridor that shook\nBeneath his tread his way he took,\nAnd stood within the chamber where\nHis brother sat in dark despair.\nBut sudden, at the grateful sight\nThe monarch\u2019s eye again grew bright.\nHe started up, forgot his fear,\nAnd drew his giant brother near.\nThe younger pressed the elder\u2019s feet\nAnd paid the King observance meet,\nThen cried: \u201cO Monarch, speak thy will,\nAnd let my care thy word fulfil.\nWhat sudden terror and dismay\nHave burst the bonds in which I lay?\u201d\n\n  Fierce flashed the flame from R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s eye,\nAs thus in wrath he made reply:\n\u201cFair time, I ween, for sleep is this,\nTo lull thy soul in tranquil bliss,\nUnheeding, in oblivion drowned,\nThe dangers that our lives surround.\nBrave R\u00e1ma, Da\u015baratha\u2019s son,\nA passage o\u2019er the sea has won,\nAnd, with the V\u00e1nar monarch\u2019s aid,\nRound Lank\u00e1\u2019s walls his hosts arrayed.\nThough never in the deadly field\nMy R\u00e1kshas troops were known to yield,\nThe bravest of the giant train\nHave fallen by the V\u00e1nars slain.\nHence comes my fear. O fierce and brave,\nGo forth, our threatened Lank\u00e1 save.\nGo forth, a dreadful vengeance take:\nFor this, O chief, I bade thee wake.\nThe Gods and trembling fiends have felt\nThe furious blows thine arm has dealt.\nEarth has no warrior, heaven has none\nTo match thy might, Paulastya\u2019s son.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIII. Kumbhakarna\u2019s Boast.\n\n\nThen Kumbhakar\u1e47a laughed aloud\nAnd cried; \u201cO Monarch, once so proud,\nWe warned thee, but thou wouldst not hear;\nAnd now the fruits of sin appear.\nWe warned thee, I, thy nobles, all\nWho loved thee, in thy council hall.\nThose sovereigns who with blinded eyes\nNeglect the foe their hearts despise,\nSoon, falling from their high estate\nBring on themselves the stroke of fate.\nAccept at length, thy life to save,\nThe counsel sage Vibhisha\u1e47 gave,\nThe prudent counsel spurned before,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 to her lord restore.\u201d(972)\n\n  The monarch frowned, by passion moved\nAnd thus in angry words reproved:\n\u201cWilt thou thine elder brother school,\nForgetful of the ancient rule\nThat bids thee treat him as the sage\nWho guides thee with the lore of age?\nThink on the dangers of the day,\nNor idly throw thy words away:\nIf, led astray, by passion stirred,\nI in the pride of power have erred;\nIf deeds of old were done amiss,\nNo time for vain reproach is this.\nUp, brother; let thy loving care\nThe errors of thy king repair.\u201d\n\n  To calm his wrath, his soul to ease,\nThe younger spake in words like these:\n\u201cYea, from our bosoms let us cast\nAll idle sorrow for the past.\nLet grief and anger be repressed:\nAgain be firm and self-possessed.\nThis day, O Monarch, shalt thou see\nThe V\u00e1nar legions turn and flee,\nAnd R\u00e1ma and his brother slain\nWith their hearts\u2019 blood shall dye the plain.\nYea, if the God who rules the dead,\nAnd Varu\u1e47 their battalions led;\nIf Indra with the Storm-Gods came\nAgainst me, and the Lord of Flame,\nStill would I fight with all and slay\nThy banded foes, my King, to-day.\nIf Raghu\u2019s son this day withstand\nThe blow of mine uplifted hand,\nDeep in his breast my darts shall sink,\nAnd torrents of his life-blood drink.\nO fear not, in my promise trust:\nThis arm shall lay him in the dust,\nShall leave the fierce Sugr\u00edva dyed\nWith gore, and Lakshma\u1e47 by his side,\nAnd strike the great Han\u00fam\u00e1n down,\nThe spoiler of our glorious town.\u201d(973)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIV. Mahodar\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nHe ceased: and when his lips were closed\nMahodar thus his rede opposed:\n\u201cWhy wilt thou shame thy noble birth\nAnd speak like one of little worth?\nWhy boast thee thus in youthful pride\nRejecting wisdom for thy guide?\nHow will thy single arm oppose\nThe victor of a thousand foes,\nWho proved in Janasth\u00e1n his might\nAnd slew the rovers of the night?\nThe remnant of those legions, they\nWho saw his power that fatal day,\nNow in this leaguered city dread\nThe mighty chief from whom they fled.\nAnd wouldst thou meet the lord of men,\nBeard the great lion in his den,\nAnd, when thine eyes are open, break\nThe slumber of a deadly snake?\nWho may an equal battle wage\nWith him, so awful in his rage,\nFierce as the God of Death whom none\nMay vanquish, Da\u015baratha\u2019s son?\nBut, R\u00e1va\u1e47, shall the lady still\nRefuse compliance with thy will?\nNo, listen, King, to this design\nWhich soon shall make the captive thine.\nThis day through Lank\u00e1\u2019s streets proclaim\nThat four of us(974) of highest fame\nWith Kumbhakar\u1e47a at our head\nWill strike the son of Raghu dead.\nForth to the battle will we go\nAnd prove our prowess on the foe.\nThen, if our bold attempt succeed,\nNo further plans thy hopes will need.\nBut if in vain our warriors strive,\nAnd Raghu\u2019s son be left alive,\nWe will return, and, wounded sore,\nOur armour stained with gouts of gore,\nWill show the shafts that rent each frame,\nKeen arrows marked with R\u00e1ma\u2019s name,\nAnd say we giants have devoured\nThe princes whom our might o\u2019erpowered.\nThen let the joyful tidings spread\nThat Raghu\u2019s royal sons are dead.\nTo all around thy pleasure show,\nGold, pearls, and precious robes, bestow.\nGay garlands round the portals twine,\nEnjoy the banquet and the wine.\nThen go, the scornful lady seek,\nAnd woo her when her heart is weak.\nRich robes and gold and gems display,\nAnd gently wile her grief away.\nThen will she feel her hopeless state,\nWidowed, forlorn, and desolate;\nKnow that on thee her bliss depends,\nFar from her country and her friends;\nThen, her proud spirit overthrown,\nThe lady will be all thine own.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXV. Kumbhakarna\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nBut haughty Kumbhakar\u1e47a spurned\nHis counsel, and to R\u00e1va\u1e47 turned:\n\u201cThy life from peril will I free\nAnd slay the foe who threatens thee.\nA hero never vaunts in vain,\nLike bellowing clouds devoid of rain,\nNor, Monarch, be thine ear inclined\nTo counsellors of slavish kind,\nWho with mean arts their king mislead\nAnd mar each gallant plan and deed.\nO, let not words like his beguile\nThe glorious king of Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle.\u201d\n\n  Thus scornful Kumbhakar\u1e47a cried,\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 with a laugh replied:\n\u201cMahodar fears and fain would shun\nThe battle with Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s son.\nOf all my giant warriors, who\nIs strong as thou, and brave and true?\nRide, conqueror, to the battle ride,\nAnd tame the foeman\u2019s senseless pride.\nGo forth like Y\u00e1ma to the field,\nAnd let thine arm thy trident wield.\nScared by the lightning of thine eye\nThe V\u00e1nar hosts will turn and fly;\nAnd R\u00e1ma, when he sees thee near,\nWith trembling heart will own his fear.\u201d\n\n  The champion heard, and, well content,\nForth from the hall his footsteps bent.\nHe grasped his spear, the foeman\u2019s dread,\nBlack iron all, both shaft and head,\nWhich, dyed in many a battle, bore\nGreat spots of slaughtered victims\u2019 gore.\nThe king upon his neck had thrown\nThe jewelled chain which graced his own.\nAnd garlands of delicious scent\nAbout his limbs for ornament.\nAround his arms gay bracelets clung,\nAnd pendants in his ears were hung.\nAdorned with gold, about his waist\nHis coat of mail was firmly braced,\nAnd like N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47(975) or the God\nWho rules the sky he proudly trod.\nBehind him went a mighty throng\nOf giant warriors tall and strong,\nOn elephants of noblest breeds.\nWith cars, with camels, and with steeds:\nAnd, armed with spear and axe and sword\nWere fain to battle for their lord.(976)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVI. Kumbhakarna\u2019s Sally.\n\n\nIn pomp and pride of warlike state\nThe giant passed the city gate.\nHe raised his voice: the hills, the shore\nOf Lank\u00e1\u2019s sea returned the roar.\nThe V\u00e1nars saw the chief draw nigh\nWhom not the ruler of the sky,\nNor Y\u00e1ma, monarch of the dead,\nMight vanquish, and affrighted fled.\nWhen royal Angad, B\u00e1li\u2019s son,\nSaw the scared V\u00e1nars turn and run,\nUndaunted still he kept his ground,\nAnd shouted as he gazed around:\n\u201cO Nala, N\u00edla, stay nor let\nYour souls your generous worth forget,\nO Kumud and Gav\u00e1ksha, why\nLike base-born V\u00e1nars will ye fly?\nTurn, turn, nor shame your order thus:\nThis giant is no match for us\u201d\n\n  They heard his voice: the flight was stayed;\nAgain for war they stood arrayed,\nAnd hurled upon the foe a shower\nOf mountain peaks and trees in flower.\nStill on his limbs their missiles rained:\nUnmoved, their blows he still sustained,\nAnd seemed unconscious of the stroke\nWhen rocks against his body broke.\nFierce as the flame when woods are dry\nHe charged with fury in his eye.\nLike trees consumed with fervent heat\nThey fell beneath the giant\u2019s feet.\nSome o\u2019er the ground, dyed red with gore,\nFled wild with terror to the shore,\nAnd, deeming that all hope was lost,\nRan to the bridge they erst had crossed.\nSome clomb the trees their lives to save,\nSome sought the mountain and the cave;\nSome hid them in the bosky dell,\nAnd there in deathlike slumber fell.\n\n  When Angad saw the chieftains fly\nHe called them with a mighty cry:\n\u201cOnce more, O V\u00e1nars, charge once more,\nOn to the battle as before.\nIn all her compass earth has not,\nTo hide you safe, one secret spot.\nWhat! leave your arms? each nobler dame\nWill scorn her consort for the shame.\nThis blot upon your names efface,\nAnd keep your valour from disgrace.\nStay, chieftains; wherefore will ye run,\nA band of warriors scared by one?\u201d\n\n  Scarce would they hear: they would not stay,\nAnd basely spoke in wild dismay:\n\u201cHave we not fought, and fought in vain\nHave we not seen our mightiest slain?\nThe giant\u2019s matchless force we fear,\nAnd fly because our lives are dear.\u201d\nBut B\u00e1li\u2019s son with gentle art\nDispelled their dread and cheered each heart.\nThey turned and formed and waited still\nObedient to the prince\u2019s will.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVII. Kumbhakarna\u2019s Death.\n\n\nThus from their flight the V\u00e1nars turned,\nAnd every heart for battle burned,\nDetermined on the spot to die\nOr gain a warrior\u2019s meed on high.\nAgain the V\u00e1nars stooped to seize\nTheir weapons, rocks and fallen trees;\nAgain the deadly fight began,\nAnd fiercely at the giant ran.\nUnmoved the monster kept his place:\nHe raised on high his awful mace,\nWhirled the huge weapon round his head\nAnd laid the foremost V\u00e1nars dead.\nEight thousand fell bedewed with gore,\nThen sank and died seven hundred more.\nThen thirty, twenty, ten, or eight\nAt each fierce onset met their fate,\nAnd fast the fallen were devoured\nLike snakes by Garu\u1e0d\u2019s beak o\u2019erpowered.\nThen Dwivid from the V\u00e1nar van,\nArmed with an uptorn mountain, ran,\nLike a huge cloud when fierce winds blow,\nAnd charged amain the mountain foe.\nWith wondrous force the hill he threw:\nO\u2019er Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s head it flew,\nAnd falling on his host afar\nCrushed many a giant, steed, and car.\nRocks, trees, by fierce Han\u00fam\u00e1n sped,\nRained fast on Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s head.\nWhose spear each deadlier missile stopped,\nAnd harmless on the plain it dropped.\nThen with his furious eyes aglow\nThe giant rushed upon the foe,\nWhere, with a woody hill upheaved,\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s might his charge received.\nThrough his vast frame the giant felt\nThe angry blow Han\u00fam\u00e1n dealt.\nHe reeled a moment, sore distressed,\nThen smote the V\u00e1nar on the breast,\nAs when the War-God\u2019s furious stroke\nThrough Krauncha\u2019s hill a passage broke.(977)\nFierce was the blow, and deep and wide\nThe rent: with crimson torrents dyed,\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n, maddened by the pain,\nRoared like a cloud that brings the rain,\nAnd from each R\u00e1kshas throat rang out\nLoud clamour and exultant shout.\nThen N\u00edla hurled with mustered might\nThe fragment of a mountain height;\nNor would the rock the foe have missed,\nBut Kumbhakar\u1e47a raised his fist\nAnd smote so fiercely that the mass\nFell crushed to powder on the grass.\nFive chieftains of the V\u00e1nar race(978)\nCharged Kumbhakar\u1e47a face to face,\nAnd his huge frame they wildly beat\nWith rocks and trees and hands and feet.\nRound Rishabh first the giant wound\nHis arms and hurled him to the ground,\nWhere speechless, senseless, wounded sore,\nHe lay his face besmeared with gore.\nThen N\u00edla with his fist he slew,\nAnd \u015aarabh with his knee o\u2019erthrew,\nNor could Gav\u00e1ksha\u2019s strength withstand\nThe force of his terrific hand.\nAt Gandham\u00e1dan\u2019s eager call\nRushed thousands to avenge their fall,\nNor ceased those V\u00e1nars to assail\nWith knee and fist and tooth and nail.\nAround his foes the giant threw\nHis mighty arms, and nearer drew\nThe captives subject to his will:\nThen snatched them up and ate his fill.\nThere was no respite then, no pause:\nFast gaped and closed his hell-like jaws:\nYet, prisoned in that gloomy cave,\nSome V\u00e1nars still their lives could save:\nSome through his nostrils found a way,\nSome through his ears resought the day.\nLike Indra with his thunder, like\nThe God of Death in act to strike,\nThe giant seized his ponderous spear,\nAnd charged the foe in swift career.\nBefore his might the V\u00e1nars fell,\nNor could their hosts his charge repel.\nThen trembling, nor ashamed to run,\nThey turned and fled to Raghu\u2019s son.\n\n  When B\u00e1li\u2019s warrior son(979) beheld\nTheir flight, his heart with fury swelled.\nHe rushed, with his terrific shout,\nTo meet the foe and stay the rout.\nHe came, he hurled a mountain peak,\nAnd smote the giant on the cheek.\nHis ponderous spear the giant threw:\nFierce was the cast, the aim was true;\nBut Angad, trained in war and tried,\nSaw ere it came, and leapt aside.\nThen with his open hand he smote\nThe giant on the chest and throat.\nThat blow the giant scarce sustained;\nBut sense and strength were soon regained.\nWith force which nothing might resist\nHe caught the V\u00e1nar by the wrist,\nWhirled him, as if in pastime, round,\nAnd dashed him senseless on the ground.\nThere low on earth his foe lay crushed:\nAt King Sugr\u00edva next he rushed,\nWho, waiting for the charge, stood still,\nAnd heaved on high a shattered hill,\nHe looked on Kumbhakar\u1e47a dyed\nWith streams of blood, and fiercely cried:\n\u201cGreat glory has thine arm achieved,\nAnd thousands of their lives bereaved.\nNow leave a while thy meaner foes,\nAnd brook the hill Sugr\u00edva throws.\u201d\n\n  He spoke, and hurled the mass he held:\nThe giant\u2019s chest the stroke repelled,\nThen on the V\u00e1nars fell despair,\nAnd R\u00e1kshas clamour filled the air.\nThe giant raised his arm, and fast\nCame the tremendous(980) spear he cast.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n caught it as it flew,\nAnd knapped it on his knee in two.\nThe giant saw the broken spear:\nHis clouded eye confessed his fear;\nYet at Sugr\u00edva\u2019s head he sent\nA peak from Lank\u00e1\u2019s mountain rent.\nThe rushing mass no might could stay:\nSugr\u00edva fell and senseless lay.\nThe giant stooped his foe to seize,\nAnd bore him thence, as bears the breeze\nA cloud in autumn through the sky.\nHe heard the sad Immortals sigh,\nAnd shouts of triumph long and loud\nWent up from all the R\u00e1kshas crowd.\nThrough Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate the giant passed\nHolding his struggling captive fast,\nWhile from each terrace, house, and tower\nFell on his haughty head a shower\nOf fragrant scent and flowery rain,\nBlossoms and leaves and scattered grain.(981)\n\n  By slow degrees the V\u00e1nars\u2019 lord\nFelt life and sense and strength restored.\nHe heard the giants\u2019 joyful boast:\nHe thought upon his V\u00e1nar host.\nHis teeth and feet he fiercely plied,\nAnd bit and rent the giant\u2019s side,\nWho, mad with pain and smeared with gore,\nHurled to the ground the load he bore.\nRegardless of a storm of blows\nSwift to the sky the V\u00e1nar rose,\nThen lightly like a flying ball\nHigh overleapt the city wall,\nAnd joyous for deliverance won\nRegained the side of Raghu\u2019s son.\nAnd Kumbhakar\u1e47a, mad with hate\nAnd fury, sallied from the gate,\nThe carnage of the foe renewed\nAnd filled his maw with gory food.\nSlaying, with headlong frenzy blind,\nBoth V\u00e1nar foes and giant kind.\n\n  Nor would Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s valiant son(982)\nThe might of Kumbhakar\u1e47a shun,\nWho through his harness felt the sting\nOf keen shafts loosened from the string.\nHis heart confessed the warrior\u2019s power,\nAnd, bleeding from the ceaseless shower\nThat smote him on the chest and side,\nWith words like these the giant cried:\n\u201cWell fought, well fought, Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son;\nEternal glory hast thou won,\nFor thou in desperate fight hast met\nThe victor never conquered yet,\nWhom, borne on huge Air\u00e1vat\u2019s back,\nE\u2019en Indra trembles to attack.\nGo, son of Queen Sumitr\u00e1, go:\nThy valour and thy strength I know.\nNow all my hope and earnest will\nIs R\u00e1ma in the fight to kill.\nLet him beneath my weapons fall,\nAnd I will meet and conquer all.\u201d\n\n  The chieftain, of Sumitr\u00e1 born,\nMade answer as he laughed in scorn:\n\u201cYea, thou hast won a victor\u2019s fame\nFrom trembling Gods and Indra\u2019s shame.\nThere waits thee now a mightier foe\nWhose prowess thou hast yet to know.\nThere, famous in a hundred lands,\nR\u00e1ma the son of Raghu stands.\u201d\n\n  Straight at the king the giant sped,\nAnd earth was shaken at his tread.\nHis bow the hero grasped and strained,\nAnd deadly shafts in torrents rained.\nAs Kumbhakar\u1e47a felt each stroke\nFrom his huge mouth burst fire and smoke;\nHis hands were loosed in mortal pain\nAnd dropped his weapons on the plain.\nThough reft of spear and sword and mace\nNo terror changed his haughty face.\nWith heavy hands he rained his blows\nAnd smote to death a thousand foes.\nWhere\u2019er the furious monster strode\nWhile down his limbs the red blood flowed\nLike torrents down a mountain\u2019s side,\nV\u00e1nars and bears and giants died.\nHigh o\u2019er his head a rock he swung,\nAnd the huge mass at R\u00e1ma flung.\nBut R\u00e1ma\u2019s arrows bright as flame\nShattered the mountain as it came.\nThen Raghu\u2019s son, his eyes aglow\nWith burning anger, charged the foe,\nAnd as his bow he strained and tried\nWith fearful clang the cord replied.\nWroth at the bowstring\u2019s threatening clang\nTo meet his foe the giant sprang.\nHigh towering with enormous frame\nHuge as a wood-crowned hill he came.\nBut R\u00e1ma firm and self-possessed\nIn words like these the foe addressed:\n\u201cDraw near, O R\u00e1kshas lord, draw near,\nNor turn thee from the fight in fear.\nThou meetest R\u00e1ma face to face,\nDestroyer of the giant race.\nCome, fight, and thou shalt feel this hour,\nLaid low in death, thy conqueror\u2019s power.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and mad with wrath and pride\nThe giant champion thus replied:\n\u201cCome thou to me and thou shalt find\nA foeman of a different kind.\nNo Khara, no Vir\u00e1dha,\u2014thou\nHast met a mightier warrior now.\nThe strength of Kumbhakar\u1e47a fear,\nAnd dread the iron mace I rear\nThis mace in days of yore subdued\nThe Gods and D\u00e1nav multitude.\nProve, lion of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line,\nThy power upon these limbs of mine.\nThen, after trial, shalt thou bleed,\nAnd with thy flesh my hunger feed.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and R\u00e1ma, undismayed,\nUpon his cord those arrows laid\nWhich pierced the stately S\u00e1l trees through,\nAnd B\u00e1li king of V\u00e1nars slew.\nThey flew, they smote, but smote in vain\nThose mighty limbs that felt no pain.\nThen R\u00e1ma sent with surest aim\nThe dart that bore the Wind-God\u2019s name.\nThe missile from the giant tore\nHis huge arm and the mace it bore,\nWhich crushed the V\u00e1nars where it fell:\nAnd dire was Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s yell.\nThe giant seized a tree, and then\nRushed madly at the lord of men.\nAnother dart, Lord Indra\u2019s own,\nTo meet his furious onset thrown,\nHis left arm from the shoulder lopped,\nAnd like a mountain peak it dropped.\nThen from the bow of R\u00e1ma sped\nTwo arrows, each with crescent head;\nAnd, winged with might which naught could stay,\nThey cut the giant\u2019s legs away.\nThey fell, and awful was the sound\nAs those vast columns shook the ground;\nAnd sky and sea and hill and cave\nIn echoing roars their answer gave.\nThen from his side the hero drew\nA dart that like the tempest flew\u2014\nNo deadlier shaft has ever flown\nThan that which Indra called his own\u2014\nNor could the giant\u2019s mail-armed neck\nThe fury of the missile check.\nThrough skin and flesh and bone it smote\nAnd rent asunder head and throat.\nDown with the sound of thunder rolled\nThe head adorned with rings of gold,\nAnd crushed to pieces in its fall\nA gate, a tower, a massive wall.\nHurled to the sea the body fell:\nTerrific was the ocean\u2019s swell,\nNor could swift fin and nimble leap\nSave the crushed creatures of the deep.\n\n  Thus he who plagued in impious pride\nThe Gods and Br\u00e1hmans fought and died.\nGlad were the hosts of heaven, and long\nThe air re-echoed with their song.(983)\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXVIII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nThey ran to R\u00e1va\u1e47 in his hall\nAnd told him of his brother\u2019s fall:\n\u201cFierce as the God who rules the dead,\nUpon the routed foe he fed;\nAnd, victor for a while, at length\nFell slain by R\u00e1ma\u2019s matchless strength.\nNow like a mighty hill in size\nHis mangled trunk extended lies,\nAnd where he fell, a bleeding mass,\nBlocks Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate that none may pass.\u201d\nThe monarch heard: his strength gave way;\nAnd fainting on the ground he lay.\nGrieved at the giants\u2019 mournful tale,\nLong, shrill was Atik\u00e1ya\u2019s wail;\nAnd Tri\u015bir\u00e1s in sorrow bowed\nHis triple head, and wept aloud.\nMahodar, Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva shed\nHot tears and mourned their brother dead.\nAt length, his wandering sense restored,\nIn loud lament cried Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord:\n\u201cAh chief, for might and valour famed,\nWhose arm the haughty foeman tamed,\nForsaking me, thy friends and all,\nWhy hast thou fled to Y\u00e1ma\u2019s hall?\nWhy hast thou fled to taste no more\nThe slaughtered foeman\u2019s flesh and gore?\nAh me, my life is done to-day:\nMy better arm is lopped away.\nWhereon in danger I relied,\nAnd, fearless, Gods and fiends defied.\nHow could a shaft from R\u00e1ma\u2019s bow\nThe matchless giant overthrow,\nWhose iron frame so strong of yore\nThe crushing bolt of Indra bore?\nThis day the Gods and sages meet\nAnd triumph at their foe\u2019s defeat.\nThis day the V\u00e1nar chiefs will boast\nAnd, with new ardour fired, their host\nIn fiercer onset will assail\nOur city, and the ramparts scale.\nWhat care I for a monarch\u2019s name,\nFor empire, or the Maithil dame?\nWhat joy can power and riches give,\nOr life that I should care to live,\nUnless this arm in mortal fray\nThe slayer of my brother slay?\nFor me, of Kumbhakar\u1e47a reft,\nDeath is the only solace left;\nAnd I will seek, o\u2019erwhelmed with woes,\nThe realm to which my brother goes.\nAh me ill-minded, not to take\nHis counsel when Vibhisha\u1e47 spake\nWhen he this evil day foretold\nMy foolish heart was overbold:\nI drove my sage adviser hence,\nAnd reap the fruits of mine offence.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXIX. Nar\u00e1ntak\u2019s Death.\n\n\nPierced to the soul by sorrow\u2019s sting\nThus wailed the evil-hearted king.\nThen Tri\u015bir\u00e1s stood forth and cried:\n\u201cYea, father, he has fought and died,\nOur bravest: and the loss is sore:\nBut rouse thee, and lament no more.\nHast thou not still thy coat of mail,\nThy bow and shafts which never fail?\nA thousand asses draw thy car\nWhich roars like thunder heard afar.\nThy valour and thy warrior skill,\nThy God-given strength, are left thee still.\nUnarmed, thy matchless might subdued\nThe Gods and D\u00e1nav multitude.\nArmed with thy glorious weapons, how\nShall Raghu\u2019s son oppose thee now?\nOr, sire, within thy palace stay;\nAnd I myself will sweep away\nThy foes, like Garu\u1e0d when he makes\nA banquet of the writhing snakes.\nSoon Raghu\u2019s son shall press the plain,\nAs Narak(984) fell by Vish\u1e47u slain,\nOr \u015aambar(985) in rebellious pride\nWho met the King of Gods(986) and died.\u201d\n\n  The monarch heard: his courage grew,\nAnd life and spirit came anew.\nDev\u00e1ntak and Nar\u00e1ntak heard,\nAnd their fierce souls with joy were stirred;\nAnd Atik\u00e1ya(987) burned to fight,\nAnd heard the summons with delight;\nWhile from the rest loud rang the cry,\n\u201cI too will fight,\u201d \u201cand I,\u201d \u201cand I.\u201d\n\n  The joyous king his sons embraced,\nWith gold and chains and jewels graced,\nAnd sent them forth with stirring speech\nOf benison and praise to each.\nForth from the gate the princes sped\nAnd ranged for war the troops they led.\nThe V\u00e1nar legions charged anew,\nAnd trees and rocks for missiles flew.\nThey saw Nar\u00e1ntak\u2019s mighty form\nBorne on a steed that mocked the storm.\nTo check his charge in vain they strove:\nStraight through their host his way he clove,\nAs springs a dolphin through the tide:\nAnd countless V\u00e1nars fell and died,\nAnd mangled limbs and corpses lay\nTo mark the chief\u2019s ensanguined way,\nSugr\u00edva saw them fall or fly\nWhen fierce Nar\u00e1ntak\u2019s steed was nigh,\nAnd marked the giant where he sped\nO\u2019er heaps of dying or of dead.\nHe bade the royal Angad face\nThat bravest chief of giant race.\nAs springs the sun from clouds dispersed,\nSo Angad from the V\u00e1nars burst.\nNo weapon for the fight he bore\nSave nails and teeth, and sought no more.\n\u201cLeave, giant chieftain,\u201d thus he spoke,\n\u201cLeave foes unworthy of thy stroke,\nAnd bend against a nobler heart\nThe terrors of thy deadly dart.\u201d\n\n  Nar\u00e1ntak heard the words he spake:\nFast breathing, like an angry snake,\nWith bloody teeth his lips he pressed\nAnd hurled his dart at Angad\u2019s breast.\nTrue was the aim and fierce the stroke,\nYet on his breast the missile broke.\nThen Angad at the giant flew,\nAnd with a blow his courser slew:\nThe fierce hand crushed through flesh and bone,\nAnd steed and rider fell o\u2019erthrown.\nNar\u00e1ntak\u2019s eyes with fury blazed:\nHis heavy hand on high he raised\nAnd struck in savage wrath the head\nOf B\u00e1li\u2019s son, who reeled and bled,\nFainted a moment and no more:\nThen stronger, fiercer than before\nSmote with that fist which naught could stay,\nAnd crushed to death the giant lay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXX. The Death Of Trisir\u00e1s.\n\n\nThen raged the R\u00e1kshas chiefs, and all\nBurned to avenge Nar\u00e1ntak\u2019s fall.\nDev\u00e1ntak raised his club on high\nAnd rushed at Angad with a cry.\nBehind came Tri\u015bir\u00e1s, and near\nMahodar charged with levelled spear.\nThere Angad stood to fight with three:\nHigh o\u2019er his head he waved a tree,\nAnd at Dev\u00e1ntak, swift and true\nAs Indra\u2019s flaming bolt, it flew.\nBut, cut by giant shafts in twain,\nWith minished force it flew in vain.\nA shower of trees and blocks of stone\nFrom Angad\u2019s hand was fiercely thrown;\nBut well his club Dev\u00e1ntak plied\nAnd turned each rock and tree aside.\nNor yet, by three such foes assailed,\nThe heart of Angad sank or quailed.\nHe slew the mighty beast that bore\nMahodar: from his head he tore\nA bleeding tusk, and blow on blow\nFell fiercely on his R\u00e1kshas foe.\nThe giant reeled, but strength regained,\nAnd furious strokes on Angad rained,\nWho, wounded by the storm of blows,\nSank on his knees, but swiftly rose.\nThen Tri\u015bir\u00e1s, as up he sprang,\nDrew his great bow with awful clang,\nAnd fixed three arrows from his sheaf\nFull in the forehead of the chief.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n saw, nor long delayed\nTo speed with N\u00edla to his aid,\nWho at the three-faced giant sent\nA peak from Lank\u00e1\u2019s mountain rent.\nBut Tri\u015bir\u00e1s with certain aim\nShot rapid arrows as it came:\nAnd shivered by their force it broke\nAnd fell to earth with flash and smoke.\nThen as the Wind-God\u2019s son came nigh,\nDev\u00e1ntak reared his mace on high.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n smote him on the head\nAnd stretched the monstrous giant dead.\nFierce Tri\u015bir\u00e1s with fury strained\nHis bow, and showers of arrows rained\nThat smote on N\u00edla\u2019s side and chest:\nHe sank a moment, sore distressed;\nBut quickly gathered strength to seize\nA mountain with its crown of trees.\nCrushed by the hill, distained with gore,\nMahodar fell to rise no more.\n\n  Then Tri\u015bir\u00e1s raised high his spear\nWhich chilled the trembling foe with fear\nAnd, like a flashing meteor through\nThe air at Han\u00fam\u00e1n it flew.\nThe V\u00e1nar shunned the threatened stroke,\nAnd with strong hands the weapon broke.\nThe giant drew his glittering blade:\nDire was the wound the weapon made\nDeep in the V\u00e1nar\u2019s ample chest,\nWho, for a moment sore oppressed,\nRaised his broad hand, regaining might,\nAnd struck the rover of the night.\nFierce was the blow: with one wild yell\nLow on the earth the monster fell.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n seized his fallen sword\nWhich served no more its senseless lord,\nAnd from the monster triple-necked\nSmote his huge heads with crowns bedecked.\nThen Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva burned with ire;\nFierce flashed his eyes with vengeful fire.\nA moment on the dead he gazed,\nThen his black mace aloft was raised,\nAnd down the mass of iron came\nThat struck and shook the V\u00e1nar\u2019s frame.\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s chest was wellnigh crushed,\nAnd from his mouth red torrents gushed:\nYet served one instant to restore\nHis spirit: from the foe he tore\nHis awful mace, and smote, and laid\nThe giant in the dust dismayed.\nCrushed were his jaws and teeth and eyes:\nBreathless and still he lay as lies\nA summit from a mountain rent\nBy him who rules the firmament.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXI. Atik\u00e1ya\u2019s Death.\n\n\nBut Atik\u00e1ya\u2019s wrath grew high\nTo see his noblest kinsmen die.\nHe, fiercest of the giant race,\nPresuming still on Brahm\u00e1\u2019s grace;\nProud tamer of the Immortals\u2019 pride,\nWhose power and might with Indra\u2019s vied,\nFor blood and vengeful carnage burned,\nAnd on the foe his fury turned.\nHigh on a car that flashed and glowed\nBright as a thousand suns he rode.\nAround his princely brows was set\nA rich bejewelled coronet.\nGold pendants in his ears he wore;\nHe strained and tried the bow he bore,\nAnd ever, as a shaft he aimed,\nHis name and royal race proclaimed.\nScarce might the V\u00e1nars brook to hear\nHis clanging bow and voice of fear:\nTo Raghu\u2019s elder son they fled,\nTheir sure defence in woe and dread.\nThen R\u00e1ma bent his eyes afar\nAnd saw the giant in his car\nFast following the flying crowd\nAnd roaring like a rainy cloud.\nHe, with the lust of battle fired,\nTurned to Vibhisha\u1e47 and inquired:\n\u201cSay, who is this, of mountain size,\nThis archer with the lion eyes?\nHis car, which strikes our host with awe,\nA thousand eager coursers draw.\nSurrounded by the flashing spears\nWhich line his car, the chief appears\nLike some huge cloud when lightnings play\nAbout it on a stormy day;\nAnd the great bow he joys to hold\nWhose bended back is bright with gold,\nAs Indra\u2019s bow makes glad the skies,\nThat best of chariots glorifies.\nO see the sunlike splendour flung\nFrom the great flag above him hung,\nWhere, blazoned with refulgent lines,\nR\u00e1hu(988) the dreadful Dragon shines.\nFull thirty quivers near his side,\nHis car with shafts is well supplied:\nAnd flashing like the light of stars\nGleam his two mighty scimitars.\nSay, best of giants, who is he\nBefore whose face the V\u00e1nars flee?\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spake. Vibhisha\u1e47 eyed\nThe giants\u2019 chief, and thus replied:\n\u201cThis R\u00e1ma, this is R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s son:\nHigh fame his youthful might has won.\nHe, best of warriors, bows his ear\nThe wisdom of the wise to hear.\nSupreme is he mid those who know\nThe mastery of sword and bow.\nUnrivalled in the bold attack\nOn elephant\u2019s or courser\u2019s back,\nHe knows, beside, each subtler art,\nTo win the foe, to bribe, or part.\nOn him the giant hosts rely,\nAnd fear no ill when he is nigh.\nThis peerless chieftain bears the name\nOf Atik\u00e1ya huge of frame,\nWhom Dhanyam\u00e1lin\u00ed of yore\nTo R\u00e1va\u1e47 lord of Lank\u00e1 bore.\u201d\n\n  Roused by his bow-string\u2019s awful clang,\nTo meet their foes the V\u00e1nars sprang.\nArmed with tall trees from Lank\u00e1\u2019s wood,\nAnd rocks and mountain peaks, they stood.\nThe giant\u2019s arrows, gold-bedecked,\nThe storm of hurtling missiles checked;\nAnd ever on his foemen poured\nFierce tempest from his clanging cord;\nNor could the V\u00e1nar chiefs sustain\nHis shafts\u2019 intolerable rain.\nThey fled: the victor gained the place\nWhere stood the lord of Raghu\u2019s race,\nAnd cried with voice of thunder: \u201cLo,\nBorne on my car, with shaft and bow,\nI, champion of the giants, scorn\nTo fight with weaklings humbly born.\nCome forth your bravest, if he dare,\nAnd fight with one who will not spare.\u201d\n\n  Forth sprang Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s noble child,(989)\nAnd strained his ready bow, and smiled;\nAnd giants trembled as the clang\nThrough heaven and earth re\u00ebchoing rang.\nThe giant to his string applied\nA pointed shaft, and proudly cried;\n\u201cTurn, turn, Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son and fly,\nFor terrible as Death am I.\nFly, nor that youthful form oppose,\nUntrained in war, to warriors\u2019 blows.\nWhat! wilt thou waste thy childish breath\nAnd wake the dormant fire of death?\nCast down, rash boy, that useless bow:\nPreserve thy life, uninjured go.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and stirred by wrath & pride\nSumitr\u00e1\u2019s noble son replied:\n\u201cBy warlike deed, not words alone,\nThe valour of the brave is shown.\nCease with vain boasts my scorn to move,\nAnd with thine arm thy prowess prove.\nBorne on thy car, with sword and bow,\nWith all thine arms, thy valour show.\nFight, and my deadly shafts this day\nLow in the dust thy head shall lay,\nAnd, rushing fast in ceaseless flood,\nShall rend thy flesh and drink thy blood.\u201d\n\n  His giant foe no answer made,\nBut on his string an arrow laid.\nHe raised his arm, the cord he drew,\nAt Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s breast the arrow flew.\nSumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, his foemen\u2019s dread,\nShot a fleet shaft with crescent head,\nWhich cleft that arrow pointed well,\nAnd harmless to the earth it fell.\nA shower of shafts from Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s bow\nFell fast and furious on the foe\nWho quailed not as the missiles smote\nWith idle force his iron coat.\nThen came the friendly Wind-God near,\nAnd whispered thus in Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s ear:\n\u201cSuch shafts as these in vain assail\nThy foe\u2019s impenetrable mail.\nA more tremendous missile try,\nOr never may the giant die.\nEmploy the mighty spell, and aim\nThe weapon known by Brahm\u00e1\u2019s name.\u201d\nHe ceased; Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s son obeyed:\nOn his great bow the shaft was laid,\nAnd with a roar like thunder, true\nAs Indra\u2019s flashing bolt, it flew.\nThe giant poured his shafts like rain\nTo check its course, but all in vain.\nWith spear and mace and sword he tried\nTo turn the fiery dart aside.\nWinged with a force which naught could check,\nIt smote the monster in the neck,\nAnd, sundered from his shoulders, rolled\nTo earth his head and helm of gold.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Speech.\n\n\nThe giants bent, in rage and grief,\nTheir eyes upon the fallen chief:\nThen flying wild with fear and pale\nTo R\u00e1va\u1e47 bore the mournful tale.\nHe heard how Atik\u00e1ya died,\nThen turned him to his lords, and cried:\n\u201cWhere are they now\u2014my bravest\u2014where,\nWise to consult and prompt to dare?\nWhere is Dh\u00famr\u00e1ksha, skilled to wield\nAll weapons in the battle field?\nAkampan, and Prahasta\u2019s might,\nAnd Kumbhakar\u1e47a bold in fight?\nThese, these and many a R\u00e1kshas more,\nEach master of the arms he bore,\nWho every foe in fight o\u2019erthrew,\nThe victors none could e\u2019er subdue,\nHave perished by the might of one,\nThe vengeful arm of Raghu\u2019s son.\nIn vain I cast mine eyes around,\nNo match for R\u00e1ma here is found,\nNo chief to stand before that bow\nWhose deadly shafts have caused our woe.\nNow, warriors, to your stations hence;\nProvide ye for the wall\u2019s defence,\nAnd be the A\u015boka garden, where\nThe lady lies, your special care.\nBe every lane and passage barred,\nSet at each gate a chosen guard.\nAnd with your troops, where danger calls,\nBe ready to defend the walls.\nEach movement of the V\u00e1nars mark;\nObserve them when the skies grow dark;\nBe ready in the dead of night,\nAnd ere the morning bring the light.\nTaught by our loss we may not scorn\nThese legions of the forest-born.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the R\u00e1kshas lords obeyed;\nEach at his post his troops arrayed:\nAnd, torn with pangs that pierced him through\nThe monarch from the hall withdrew.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIII. Indraj\u00edt\u2019s Victory.\n\n\nBut Indraj\u00edt the fierce and bold\nWith words like these his sire consoled:\n\u201cDismiss, O King, thy grief and dread,\nAnd be not thus disquieted.\nAgainst this numbing sorrow strive,\nFor Indraj\u00edt is yet alive;\nAnd none in battle may withstand\nThe fury of his strong right hand.\nThis day, O sire, thine eyes shall see\nThe sons of Raghu slain by me.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: he bade the king farewell:\nClear, mid the roar of drum and shell,\nThe clash of sword and harness rang\nAs to his car the warrior sprang.\nClose followed by his R\u00e1kshas train\nThrough Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate he reached the plain.\nThen down he leapt, and bade a band\nOf giants by the chariot stand:\nThen with due rites, as rules require,\nDid worship to the Lord of Fire.\nThe sacred oil, as texts ordain,\nWith wreaths of scented flowers and grain,\nWithin the flame in order due,\nThat mightiest of the giants threw.\nThere on the ground were spear and blade,\nAnd arrowy leaves and fuel laid;\nAn iron ladle deep and wide,\nAnd robes with sanguine colours dyed.\nBeside him stood a sable goat:\nThe giant seized it by the throat,\nAnd straight from the consuming flame\nAuspicious signs of victory came.\nFor swiftly, curling to the right,\nThe fire leapt up with willing light\nUndimmed by smoky cloud, and, red\nLike gold, upon the offering fed.\nThey brought him, while the flame yet glowed,\nThe dart by Brahm\u00e1\u2019s grace bestowed,\nAnd all the arms he wielded well\nWere charmed with text and holy spell.\n\n  Then fiercer for the fight he burned,\nAnd at the foe his chariot turned,\nWhile all his followers lifting high\nTheir maces charged with furious cry.\nDire, yet more dire the battle grew,\nAs rocks and trees and arrows flew.\nThe giant shot his shafts like rain,\nAnd V\u00e1nars fell in myriads slain,\nSugr\u00edva, Angad, N\u00edla felt\nThe wounds his hurtling arrows dealt.\nHis shafts the blood of Gaya drank;\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n reeled and Mainda sank.\nBright as the glances of the sun\nCame the swift darts they could not shun.\nCaught in the arrowy nets he wove,\nIn vain the sons of Raghu strove;\nAnd R\u00e1ma, by the darts oppressed,\nHis brother chieftain thus addressed:\n\u201cSee, first this giant warrior sends\nDestruction, mid our V\u00e1nar friends,\nAnd now his arrows thick and fast\nTheir binding net around us cast.\nTo Brahm\u00e1\u2019s grace the chieftain owes\nThe matchless power and might he shows;\nAnd mortal strength in vain contends\nWith him whom Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self befriends.\nThen let us still with dauntless hearts\nEndure this storm of pelting darts.\nSoon must we sink bereaved of sense;\nAnd then the victor, hurrying hence,\nWill seek his father in his hall\nAnd tell him of his foemen\u2019s fall.\u201d\nHe ceased: o\u2019erpowered by shaft and spell\nThe sons of Raghu reeled and fell.\nThe R\u00e1kshas on their bodies gazed;\nAnd, mid the shouts his followers raised,\nSped back to Lank\u00e1 to relate\nIn R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s hall the princes\u2019 fate.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs.\n\n\nThe shades of falling night concealed\nThe carnage of the battle field,\nWhich, bearing each a blazing brand,\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n and Vibhisha\u1e47 scanned,\nMoving with slow and anxious tread\nAmong the dying and the dead.\nSad was the scene of slaughter shown\nWhere\u2019er the torches\u2019 light was thrown.\nHere mountain forms of V\u00e1nars lay\nWhose heads and limbs were lopped away,\nArms, legs and fingers strewed the ground,\nAnd severed heads lay thick around.\nThe earth was moist with sanguine streams,\nAnd sighs were heard and groans and screams.\nThere lay Sugr\u00edva still and cold,\nThere Angad, once so brave and bold.\nThere J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n his might reposed,\nThere Vegadar\u015b\u00ed\u2019s eyes were closed;\nThere in the dust was Nala\u2019s pride,\nAnd Dwivid lay by Mainda\u2019s side.\nWhere\u2019er they looked the ensanguined plain\nWas strewn with myriads of the slain;(990)\nThey sought with keenly searching eyes\nKing J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n supremely wise.\nHis strength had failed by slow decay,\nAnd pierced with countless shafts he lay.\nThey saw, and hastened to his side,\nAnd thus the sage Vibhisha\u1e47 cried:\n\u201cThee, monarch of the bears, we seek:\nSpeak if thou yet art living, speak.\u201d\n\n  Slow came the aged chief\u2019s reply;\nScarce could he say with many a sigh:\n\u201cTorn with keen shafts which pierce each limb,\nMy strength is gone, my sight is dim;\nYet though I scarce can raise mine eyes,\nThy voice, O chief, I recognize.\nO, while these ears can hear thee, say,\nHas Han\u00fam\u00e1n survived this day?\u201d\n\n  \u201cWhy ask,\u201d Vibhisha\u1e47 cried, \u201cfor one\nOf lower rank, the Wind-God\u2019s son?\nHast thou forgotten, first in place,\nThe princely chief of Raghu\u2019s race?\nCan King Sugr\u00edva claim no care,\nAnd Angad, his imperial heir?\u201d\n\n  \u201cYea, dearer than my noblest friends\nIs he on whom our hope depends.\nFor if the Wind-God\u2019s son survive,\nAll we though dead are yet alive.\nBut if his precious life be fled\nThough living still we are but dead:\nHe is our hope and sure relief.\u201d\nThus slowly spoke the aged chief:\nThen to his side Han\u00fam\u00e1n came,\nAnd with low reverence named his name.\nCheered by the face he longed to view\nThe wounded chieftain lived anew.\n\u201cGo forth,\u201d he cried, \u201cO strong and brave,\nAnd in their woe the V\u00e1nars save.\nNo might but thine, supremely great,\nMay help us in our lost estate.\nThe trembling bears and V\u00e1nars cheer,\nCalm their sad hearts, dispel their fear.\nSave Raghu\u2019s noble sons, and heal\nThe deep wounds of the winged steel.\nHigh o\u2019er the waters of the sea\nTo far Him\u00e1laya\u2019s summits flee.\nKail\u00e1sa there wilt thou behold,\nAnd Rishabh, with his peaks of gold.\nBetween them see a mountain rise\nWhose splendour will enchant thine eyes;\nHis sides are clothed above, below,\nWith all the rarest herbs that grow.\nUpon that mountain\u2019s lofty crest\nFour plants, of sovereign powers possessed,\nSpring from the soil, and flashing there\nShed radiance through the neighbouring air.\nOne draws the shaft: one brings again\nThe breath of life to warm the slain;\nOne heals each wound; one gives anew\nTo faded cheeks their wonted hue.\nFly, chieftain, to that mountain\u2019s brow\nAnd bring those herbs to save us now.\u201d\n\n  Han\u00fam\u00e1n heard, and springing through\nThe air like Vish\u1e47u\u2019s discus(991) flew.\nThe sea was passed: beneath him, gay\nWith bright-winged birds, the mountains lay,\nAnd brook and lake and lonely glen,\nAnd fertile lands with toiling men.\nOn, on he sped: before him rose\nThe mansion of perennial snows.\nThere soared the glorious peaks as fair\nAs white clouds in the summer air.\nHere, bursting from the leafy shade,\nIn thunder leapt the wild cascade.\nHe looked on many a pure retreat\nDear to the Gods\u2019 and sages\u2019 feet:\nThe spot where Brahm\u00e1 dwells apart,\nThe place whence Rudra launched his dart;(992)\nVish\u1e47u\u2019s high seat and Indra\u2019s home,\nAnd slopes where Y\u00e1ma\u2019s servants roam.\nThere was Kuvera\u2019s bright abode;\nThere Brahm\u00e1\u2019s mystic weapon glowed.\nThere was the noble hill whereon\nThose herbs with wondrous lustre shone,\nAnd, ravished by the glorious sight,\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n rested on the height.\nHe, moving down the glittering peak,\nThe healing herbs began to seek:\nBut, when he thought to seize the prize,\nThey hid them from his eager eyes.\nThen to the hill in wrath he spake:\n\u201cMine arm this day shall vengeance take,\nIf thou wilt feel no pity, none,\nIn this great need of Raghu\u2019s son.\u201d\nHe ceased: his mighty arms he bent\nAnd from the trembling mountain rent\nHis huge head with the life it bore,\nSnakes, elephants, and golden ore.\nO\u2019er hill and plain and watery waste\nHis rapid way again he traced.\nAnd mid the wondering V\u00e1nars laid\nHis burthen through the air conveyed,\nThe wondrous herbs\u2019 delightful scent\nTo all the host new vigour lent.\nFree from all darts and wounds and pain\nThe sons of Raghu lived again,\nAnd dead and dying V\u00e1nars healed\nRose vigorous from the battle field.\n\n\n\n\nCanto LXXV. The Night Attack.\n\n\nSugr\u00edva spake in words like these:\n\u201cNow, V\u00e1nar lords, the occasion seize.\nFor now, of sons and brothers reft,\nTo R\u00e1va\u1e47 little hope is left:\nAnd if our host his gates assail\nHis weak defence will surely fail.\u201d\n\n  At dead of night the V\u00e1nar bands\nRushed on with torches in their hands.\nScared by the coming of the host\nEach giant warder left his post.\nWhere\u2019er the V\u00e1nar legions came\nTheir way was marked with hostile flame\nThat spread in fury to devour\nPalace and temple, gate and tower.\nDown came the walls and porches, down\nCame stately piles that graced the town.\nIn many a house the fire was red,\nOn sandal wood and aloe fed.\nAnd scorching flames in billows rolled\nO\u2019er diamonds and pearls and gold.\nOn cloth of wool, on silk brocade,\nOn linen robes their fury preyed.\nWheels, poles and yokes were burned, and all\nThe coursers\u2019 harness in the stall;\nAnd elephants\u2019 and chariots\u2019 gear,\nThe sword, the buckler, and the spear.\nScared by the crash of falling beams,\nMid lamentations, groans and screams,\nForth rushed the giants through the flames\nAnd with them dragged bewildered dames,\nEach, with o\u2019erwhelming terror wild,\nStill clasping to her breast a child.\nThe swift fire from a cloud of smoke\nThrough many a gilded lattice broke,\nAnd, melting pearl and coral, rose\nO\u2019er balconies and porticoes.\nThe startled crane and peacock screamed\nAs with strange light the courtyard gleamed,\nAnd fierce unusual glare was thrown\nOn shrinking wood and heated stone.\nFrom burning stall and stable freed\nRushed frantic elephant and steed,\nAnd goaded by the driving blaze\nFled wildly through the crowded ways.\nAs earth with fervent heat will glow\nWhen comes her final overthrow;\nFrom gate to gate, from court to spire\nProud Lank\u00e1 was one blaze of fire,\nAnd every headland, rock and bay\nShone bright a hundred leagues away.\nForth, blinded by the heat and flame\nRan countless giants huge of frame;\nAnd, mustering for fierce attack,\nThe V\u00e1nars charged to drive them back,\nWhile shout and scream and roar and cry\nRe\u00ebchoed through the earth and sky.\nThere R\u00e1ma stood with strength renewed,\nAnd ever, as the foe he viewed,\nShaking the distant regions rang\nHis mighty bow\u2019s tremendous clang.\nThen through the gates Nikumbha hied,\nAnd Kumbha by his brother\u2019s side,\nSent forth\u2014the bravest and the best\u2014\nTo battle by the king\u2019s behest.\nThere fought the chiefs in open field,\nAnd Angad fell and Dwivid reeled.\nSugr\u00edva saw: by rage impelled\nHe crushed the bow which Kumbha held.\nAbout his foe Sugr\u00edva wound\nHis arms, and, heaving from the ground\nThe giant hurled him o\u2019er the bank;\nAnd deep beneath the sea he sank.\nLike mandar hill with furious swell\nUp leapt the waters where he fell.\nAgain he rose: he sprang to land\nAnd raised on high his threatening hand:\nFull on Sugr\u00edva\u2019s chest it came\nAnd shook the V\u00e1nar\u2019s massy frame,\nBut on the wounded bone he broke\nHis wrist\u2014so furious was the stroke.\nWith force that naught could stay or check,\nSugr\u00edva smote him neath the neck.\nThe fierce blow crashed through flesh and bone\nAnd Kumbha lay in death o\u2019erthrown.\nNikumbha saw his brother die,\nAnd red with fury flashed his eye.\nHe dashed with mighty sway and swing\nHis axe against the V\u00e1nar king;\nBut shattered on that living rock\nIt split in fragments at the shock.\nSugr\u00edva, rising to the blow,\nRaised his huge hand and smote his foe.\nAnd in the dust the giant lay\nGasping in blood his soul away.\n\n[I have briefly despatched Kumbha and Nikumbha, each of whom has in the\ntext a long Canto to himself. When they fall R\u00e1va\u1e47 sends forth Makar\u00e1ksha\nor Crocodile-Eye, the son of Khara who was slain by R\u00e1ma in the forest\nbefore the abduction of S\u00edt\u00e1. The account of his sallying forth, of his\nbattle with R\u00e1ma and of his death by the fiery dart of that hero occupies\ntwo Cantos which I entirely pass over. Indraj\u00edt again comes forth and,\nrendered invisible by his magic art slays countless V\u00e1nars with his\nunerring arrows. He retires to the city and returns bearing in his chariot\nan effigy of S\u00edt\u00e1, the work of magic, weeping and wailing by his side. He\ngrasps the lovely image by the hair and cuts it down with his scimitar in\nthe sight of the enraged Han\u00fam\u00e1n and all the V\u00e1nar host. At last after\nmuch fighting of the usual kind Indraj\u00edt\u2019s chariot is broken in pieces,\nhis charioteer is slain, and he himself falls by Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s hand, to the\ninexpressible delight of the high-souled saints, the nymphs of heaven and\nother celestial beings.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCIII. R\u00e1van\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nThey sought the king, a mournful train,\nAnd cried, \u201cMy lord, thy son is slain.\nBy Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s hand, before these eyes,\nThe warrior fell no more to rise.\nNo time is this for vain regret:\nThy hero son a hero met;\nAnd he whose might in battle pressed\nLord Indra and the Gods confessed,\nWhose power was stranger to defeat,\nHas gained in heaven a blissful seat.\u201d\n\n  The monarch heard the mournful tale:\nHis heart was faint, his cheek was pale;\nHis fleeting sense at length regained,\nIn trembling tones he thus complained:\n\u201cAh me, my son, my pride: the boast\nAnd glory of the giant host.\nCould Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s puny might defeat\nThe foe whom Indra feared to meet?\nCould not thy deadly arrows split\nProud Mandar\u2019s peaks, O Indraj\u00edt,\nAnd the Destroyer\u2019s self destroy?\nAnd wast thou conquered by a boy?\nI will not weep: thy noble deed\nHas blessed thee with immortal meed\nGained by each hero in the skies\nWho fighting for his sovereign dies.\nNow, fearless of all meaner foes,\nThe guardian Gods(993) will taste repose:\nBut earth to me, with hill and plain,\nIs desolate, for thou art slain.\nAh, whither hast thou fled, and left\nThy mother, Lank\u00e1, me bereft;\nLeft pride and state and wives behind,\nAnd lordship over all thy kind?\nI fondly hoped thy hand should pay\nDue honours on my dying day:\nAnd couldst thou, O beloved, flee\nAnd leave thy funeral rites to me?\nLife has no comfort left me, none,\nO Indraj\u00edt my son, my son.\u201d\n\n  Thus wailed he broken by his woes:\nBut swift the thought of vengeance rose.\nIn awful wrath his teeth he gnashed,\nAnd from his eyes red lightning flashed.\nHot from his mouth came fire and smoke,\nAs thus the king in fury spoke:\n\n  \u201cThrough many a thousand years of yore\nThe penance and the pain I bore,\nAnd by fierce torment well sustained\nThe highest grace of Brahm\u00e1 gained,\nHis plighted word my life assured,\nFrom Gods of heaven and fiends secured.\nHe armed my limbs with burnished mail\nWhose lustre turns the sunbeams pale,\nIn battle proof gainst heavenly bands\nWith thunder in their threatening hands.\nArmed in this mail myself will go\nWith Brahm\u00e1\u2019s gift my deadly bow,\nAnd, cleaving through the foes my way,\nThe slayers of my son will slay.\u201d\n\n  Then, by his grief to frenzy wrought,\nThe captive in the grove he sought.\nSwift through the shady path he sped:\nEarth trembled at his furious tread.\nFierce were his eyes: his monstrous hand\nHeld drawn for death his glittering brand.\nThere weeping stood the Maithil dame:\nShe shuddered as the giant came.\nNear drew the rover of the night\nAnd raised his sword in act to smite;\nBut, by his nobler heart impelled,\nOne R\u00e1kshas lord his arm withheld:\n\u201cWilt thou, great Monarch,\u201d thus he cried,\n\u201cWilt thou, to heavenly Gods allied,\nBlot for all time thy glorious fame,\nThe slayer of a gentle dame?\nWhat! shall a woman\u2019s blood be spilt\nTo stain thee with eternal guilt,\nThee deep in all the Veda\u2019s lore?\nFar be the thought for evermore.\nAh look, and let her lovely face\nThis fury from thy bosom chase.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the prudent counsel pleased\nThe monarch, and his wrath appeased;\nThen to his council hall in haste\nThe giant lord his steps retraced.\n\n[I omit two Cantos in the first of which R\u00e1ma with an enchanted Gandharva\nweapon deals destruction among the R\u00e1kshases sent out by R\u00e1va\u1e47, and in the\nsecond the R\u00e1kshas dames lament the slain and mourn over the madness of\nR\u00e1va\u1e47.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto XCVI. R\u00e1van\u2019s Sally.\n\n\nThe groans and cries of dames who wailed\nThe ears of Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord assailed,\nFor from each house and home was sent\nThe voice of weeping and lament.\nIn troubled thought his head he bowed,\nThen fiercely loosing on the crowd\nOf nobles near his throne he broke\nThe silence, and in fury spoke:\n\u201cThis day my deadly shafts shall fly,\nAnd Raghu\u2019s sons shall surely die.\nThis day shall countless V\u00e1nars bleed\nAnd dogs and kites and vultures feed.\nGo, bid them swift my car prepare,\nBring the great bow I long to bear:\nAnd let my host with sword and shield\nAnd spear be ready for the field.\u201d\n\n  From street to street the captains passed\nAnd R\u00e1kshas warriors gathered fast.\nWith spear and sword to pierce and strike,\nAnd axe and club and mace and pike.\n\n[I omit several weapons for which I cannot find distinctive names, and\namong them the _Sataghn\u00ed_ or _Centicide_, supposed by some to be a kind of\nfire-arms or rocket, but described by a commentator on the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata as\na stone or cylindrical piece of wood studded with iron spikes.]\n\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s warrior chariot(994) wrought\nWith gold and rich inlay was brought.\nMid tinkling bells and weapons\u2019 clang\nThe monarch on the chariot sprang,\nWhich, decked with gems of every hue,\nEight steeds of noble lineage drew.\nMid roars of drum and shell rang out\nFrom countless throats a joyful shout.\nAs, girt with hosts in warlike pride,\nThrough Lank\u00e1\u2019s streets the tyrant hied.\nStill, louder than the roar of drums,\nWent up the cry \u201cHe comes, he comes,\nOur ever conquering lord who trod\nBeneath his feet both fiend and God.\u201d\nOn to the gate the warriors swept\nWhere Raghu\u2019s sons their station kept.\nWhen R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s car the portal passed\nThe sun in heaven was overcast.\nEarth rocked and reeled from side to side\nAnd birds with boding voices cried.\nAgainst the standard of the king\nA vulture flapped his horrid wing.\nBig gouts of blood before him dropped,\nHis trembling steeds in terror stopped.\nThe hue of death was on his cheek,\nAnd scarce his flattering tongue could speak,\nWhen, terrible with flash and flame,\nThrough murky air a meteor came.\nStill by the hand of Death impelled\nHis onward way the giant held.\nThe V\u00e1nars in the field afar\nHeard the loud thunder of his car.\nAnd turned with warriors\u2019 fierce delight\nTo meet the giant in the fight.\nHe came: his clanging bow he drew\nAnd myriads of the V\u00e1nars slew.\nSome through the side and heart he cleft,\nSome headless on the plain were left.\nSome struggling groaned with mangled thighs,\nOr broken arms or blinded eyes.\n\n[I omit Cantos XCVII, XCVIII, and XCIX, which describe in the usual way\nthree single combats between Sugr\u00edva and Angad on the V\u00e1nar side and\nVir\u00fap\u00e1ksha, Mahodar, and Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva on the side of the giants. The weapons\nof the V\u00e1nars are trees and rocks; the giants fight with swords, axes, and\nbows and arrows. The details are generally the same as those of preceding\nduels. The giants fall, one in each Canto.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto C. R\u00e1van In The Field.\n\n\nThe plain with bleeding limbs was spread,\nAnd heaps of dying and of dead.\nHis mighty bow still R\u00e1ma strained,\nAnd shafts upon the giants rained.\nStill Angad and Sugr\u00edva, wrought\nTo fury, for the V\u00e1nars fought.\nCrushed with huge rocks through chest and side\nMahodar, Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva died,\nAnd Vir\u00fap\u00e1ksha stained with gore\nDropped on the plain to rise no more.\nWhen R\u00e1va\u1e47 saw the three o\u2019erthrown\nHe cried aloud in furious tone:\n\u201cUrge, urge the car, my charioteer,\nThe haughty V\u00e1nars\u2019 death is near.\nThis very day shall end our griefs\nFor leaguered town and slaughtered chiefs.\nR\u00e1ma the tree whose lovely fruit\nIs S\u00edt\u00e1, shall this arm uproot,\u2014\nWhose branches with protecting shade\nAre V\u00e1nar lords who lend him aid.\u201d\n\n  Thus cried the king: the welkin rang\nAs forth the eager coursers sprang,\nAnd earth beneath the chariot shook\nWith flowery grove and hill and brook.\nFast rained his shafts: where\u2019er he sped\nThe conquered V\u00e1nars fell or fled,\nOn rolled the car in swift career\nTill Raghu\u2019s noble sons were near.\nThen R\u00e1ma looked upon the foe\nAnd strained and tried his sounding bow,\nTill earth and all the region rang\nRe-echoing to the awful clang.\nHis bow the younger chieftain bent,\nAnd shaft on shaft at R\u00e1va\u1e47 sent.\nHe shot: but R\u00e1va\u1e47 little recked;\nEach arrow with his own he checked,\nAnd headless, baffled of its aim,\nTo earth the harmless missile came;\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 stayed his arm o\u2019erpowered\nBy the thick darts the giant showered.\nFierce waxed the fight and fiercer yet,\nFor R\u00e1va\u1e47 now and R\u00e1ma met,\nAnd each on other poured amain\nThe tempest of his arrowy rain.\nWhile all the sky above was dark\nWith missiles speeding to their mark\nLike clouds, with flashing lightning twined\nAbout them, hurried by the wind.\nNot fiercer was the wondrous fight\nWhen Vritra fell by Indra\u2019s might.\nAll arts of war each foeman knew,\nAnd trained alike, his bowstring drew.\nRed-eyed with fury Lank\u00e1\u2019s king\nPressed his huge fingers on the string,\nAnd fixed in R\u00e1ma\u2019s brows a flight\nOf arrows winged with matchless flight.\nStill Raghu\u2019s son endured, and bore\nThat crown of shafts though wounded sore.\nO\u2019er a dire dart a spell he spoke\nWith mystic power to aid the stroke.\nIn vain upon the foe it smote\nRebounding from the steelproof coat.\nThe giant armed his bow anew,\nAnd wondrous weapons hissed and flew,\nTerrific, deadly, swift of flight,\nBeaked like the vulture and the kite,\nOr bearing heads of fearful make,\nOf lion, tiger, wolf and snake.(995)\nThen R\u00e1ma, troubled by the storm\nOf flying darts in every form\nShot by an arm that naught could tire,\nLaunched at the foe his dart of fire,\nWhich, sacred to the Lord of Flame,\nBurnt and consumed where\u2019er it came.\nAnd many a blazing shaft beside\nThe hero to his string applied.\nWith fiery course of dazzling hue\nSwift to the mark each missile flew,\nSome flashing like a shooting star,\nSome as the tongues of lightning are;\nOne like a brilliant plant, one\nIn splendour like the morning sun.\nWhere\u2019er the shafts of R\u00e1ma burned\nThe giant\u2019s darts were foiled and turned.\nFar into space his weapons fled,\nBut as they flew struck thousands dead.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CI. Lakshman\u2019s Fall.\n\n\nWhen R\u00e1va\u1e47 saw his darts repelled,\nWith double rage his bosom swelled.\nHe summoned, wroth but undismayed,\nA mightier charm to lend its aid.\nAnd, fierce as fire before the blast,\nA storm of missiles thick and fast,\nSpear, pike and javelin, mace and brand,\nCame hurtling from the giant\u2019s hand.\nBut, mightier still, the arms employed\nBy Raghu\u2019s son their force destroyed,\nAnd every dart fell dulled and spent\nBy powers the bards of heaven had lent.\nWith his huge mace Vibhisha\u1e47 slew\nThe steeds that R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s chariot drew.\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47 hurled in deadly ire\nA ponderous spear that flashed like fire:\nBut R\u00e1ma\u2019s arrows checked its way,\nAnd harmless on the earth it lay,\nThe giant seized a mightier spear,\nWhich Death himself would shun with fear.\nVibhisha\u1e47 with the stroke had died,\nBut Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s hand his bowstring plied,\nAnd flying arrows thick as hail\nSmote fiercely on the giant\u2019s mail.\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47 turned his aim aside,\nOn Lakshma\u1e47 looked and fiercely cried:\n\u201cThou, thou again my wrath hast braved,\nAnd from his death Vibhisha\u1e47 saved.\nNow in his stead this spear receive\nWhose deadly point thy heart shall cleave.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: he hurled the mortal dart\nBy Maya forged with magic art.\nThe spear, with all his fury flung,\nSwift, flickering like a serpent\u2019s tongue,\nAdorned with many a tinkling bell,\nSmote Lakshma\u1e47, and the hero fell.\nWhen R\u00e1ma saw, he heaved a sigh,\nA tear one moment dimmed his eye.\nBut tender grief was soon repressed\nAnd thoughts of vengeance filled his breast.\nThe air around him flashed and gleamed\nAs from his bow the arrows streamed;\nAnd Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord, the foeman\u2019s dread,\nO\u2019erwhelmed with terror turned and fled.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CII. Lakshman Healed.\n\n\nBut R\u00e1ma, pride of Raghu\u2019s race,\nGazed tenderly on Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s face,\nAnd, as the sight his spirit broke,\nTurned to Sushe\u1e47 and sadly spoke:\n\u201cWhere is my power and valour? how\nShall I have heart for battle now,\nWhen dead before my weeping eyes\nMy brother, noblest Lakshma\u1e47, lies?\nMy tears in blinding torrents flow,\nMy hand unnerved has dropped my bow.\nThe pangs of woe have blanched my cheek,\nMy heart is sick, my strength is weak.\nAh me, my brother! Ah, that I\nBy Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side might sink and die:\nLife, war and conquest, all are vain\nIf Lakshma\u1e47 lies in battle slain.\nWhy will those eyes my glances shun?\nHast thou no word of answer, none?\nAh, is thy noble spirit flown\nAnd gone to other worlds alone?\nCouldst thou not let thy brother seek\nThose worlds with thee? O speak, O speak!\nRise up once more, my brother, rise,\nLook on me with thy loving eyes.\nWere not thy steps beside me still\nIn gloomy wood, on breezy hill?\nDid not thy gentle care assuage\nThy brother\u2019s grief and fitful rage?\nDidst thou not all his troubles share,\nHis guide and comfort in despair?\u201d\n\n  As R\u00e1ma, vanquished, wept and sighed\nThe V\u00e1nar chieftain thus replied:\n\u201cGreat Prince, unmanly thoughts dismiss,\nNor yield thy soul to grief like this.\nIn vain those burning tears are shed:\nOur glory Lakshma\u1e47 is not dead.\nDeath on his brow no mark has set,\nWhere beauty\u2019s lustre lingers yet.\nClear is the skin, and tender hues\nOf lotus flowers his palms suffuse.\nO R\u00e1ma, cheer thy trembling heart;\nNot thus do life and body part.\nNow, Hanum\u00e1n, to thee I speak:\nHie hence to tall Mahodaya\u2019s(996) peak\nWhere herbs of sovereign virtue grow\nWhich life and health and strength bestow\nBring thou the leaves to balm his pain,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 shall be well again.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the Wind-God\u2019s son obeyed\nSwift through the clouds his way he made.\nHe reached the hill, nor stayed to find\nThe wondrous herbs of healing kind,\nFrom its broad base the mount he tore\nWith all the shrubs and trees it bore,\nSped through the clouds again and showed\nTo wise Sushe\u1e47 his woody load.(997)\nSushe\u1e47 in wonder viewed the hill,\nAnd culled the sovereign salve of ill.\nSoon as the healing herb he found,\nThe fragrant leaves he crushed and ground.\nThen over Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s face he bent,\nWho, healed and strengthened by the scent\nOf that blest herb divinely sweet,\nRose fresh and lusty on his feet.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CIII. Indra\u2019s Car.\n\n\nThen Raghu\u2019s son forgot his woe:\nAgain he grasped his fallen bow\nAnd hurled at Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord amain\nThe tempest of his arrowy rain.\nDrawn by the steeds his lords had brought,\nAgain the giant turned and fought.\nAnd drove his glittering chariot nigh\nAs springs the Day-God through the sky.\nThen, as his sounding bow he bent,\nLike thunderbolts his shafts were sent,\nAs when dark clouds in rain time shed\nFierce torrents on a mountain\u2019s head.\nHigh on his car the giant rode,\nOn foot the son of Raghu strode.\nThe Gods from their celestial height\nIndignant saw the unequal fight.\nThen he whom heavenly hosts revere,\nLord Indra, called his charioteer:\n\n  \u201cHaste, M\u00e1tali,\u201d he cried, \u201cdescend;\nTo Raghu\u2019s son my chariot lend.\nWith cheering words the chief address;\nAnd all the Gods thy deed will bless.\u201d\n\n  He bowed; he brought the glorious car\nWhose tinkling bells were heard afar;\nFair as the sun of morning, bright\nWith gold and pearl and lazulite.\nHe yoked the steeds of tawny hue\nThat swifter than the tempest flew.\nThen down the slope of heaven he hied\nAnd stayed the car by R\u00e1ma\u2019s side.\n\u201cAscend, O Chief,\u201d he humbly cried,\n\u201cThe chariot which the Gods provide.\nThe mighty bow of Indra see,\nSent by the Gods who favour thee;\nBehold this coat of glittering mail,\nAnd spear and shafts which never fail.\u201d\n\n  Cheered by the grace the Immortals showed\nThe chieftain on the chariot rode.\nThen as the car-borne warriors met\nThe awful fight raged fiercer yet.\nEach shaft that R\u00e1va\u1e47 shot became\nA serpent red with kindled flame,\nAnd round the limbs of R\u00e1ma hung\nWith fiery jaws and quivering tongue.\nBut every serpent fled dismayed\nWhen Raghu\u2019s valiant son displayed\nThe weapon of the Feathered King,(998)\nAnd loosed his arrows from the string.\nBut R\u00e1va\u1e47 armed his bow anew,\nAnd showers of shafts at R\u00e1ma flew,\nWhile the fierce king in swift career\nSmote with a dart the charioteer.\nAn arrow shot by R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s hand\nLaid the proud banner on the sand,\nAnd Indra\u2019s steeds of heavenly strain\nFell by the iron tempest slain.\nOn Gods and spirits of the air\nFell terror, trembling, and despair.\nThe sea\u2019s white billows mounted high\nWith froth and foam to drench the sky.\nThe sun by lurid clouds was veiled,\nThe friendly lights of heaven were paled;\nAnd, fiercely gleaming, fiery Mars\nOpposed the beams of gentler stars.\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma\u2019s eyes with fury blazed\nAs Indra\u2019s heavenly spear he raised.\nLoud rang the bells: the glistering head\nBright flashes through the region shed.\nDown came the spear in swift descent:\nThe giant\u2019s lance was crushed and bent.\nThen R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s horses brave and fleet\nFell dead beneath his arrowy sleet.\nFierce on his foeman R\u00e1ma pressed,\nAnd gored with shafts his mighty breast.\nAnd spouting streams of crimson dyed\nThe weary giant\u2019s limbs and side.\n\n[I omit Cantos CIV and CV in which the fight is renewed and R\u00e1va\u1e47 severely\nreprimands his charioteer for timidity and want of confidence in his\nmaster\u2019s prowess, and orders him to charge straight at R\u00e1ma on the next\noccasion.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto CVI. Glory To The Sun.\n\n\nThere faint and bleeding fast, apart\nStood R\u00e1va\u1e47 raging in his heart.\nThen, moved with ruth for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake,\nAgastya(999) came and gently spake:\n\u201cBend, R\u00e1ma, bend thy heart and ear\nThe everlasting truth to hear\nWhich all thy hopes through life will bless\nAnd crown thine arms with full success.\nThe rising sun with golden rays,\nLight of the worlds, adore and praise:\nThe universal king, the lord\nBy hosts of heaven and fiends adored.\nHe tempers all with soft control,\nHe is the Gods\u2019 diviner soul;\nAnd Gods above and fiends below\nAnd men to him their safety owe.\nHe Brahm\u00e1, Vish\u1e47u, \u015aiva, he\nEach person of the glorious Three,\nIs every God whose praise we tell,\nThe King of Heaven,(1000) the Lord of Hell:(1001)\nEach God revered from times of old,\nThe Lord of War,(1002) the King of Gold:(1003)\nMahendra, Time and Death is he,\nThe Moon, the Ruler of the Sea.(1004)\nHe hears our praise in every form,\u2014\nThe manes,(1005) Gods who ride the storm,(1006)\nThe A\u015bvins,(1007) Manu,(1008) they who stand\nRound Indra,(1009) and the S\u00e1dhyas\u2019(1010) band\nHe is the air, and life and fire,\nThe universal source and sire:\nHe brings the seasons at his call,\nCreator, light, and nurse of all.\nHis heavenly course he joys to run,\nMaker of Day, the golden sun.\nThe steeds that whirl his car are seven,(1011)\nThe flaming steeds that flash through heaven.\nLord of the sky, the conqueror parts\nThe clouds of night with glistering darts.\nHe, master of the Vedas\u2019 lore,\nCommands the clouds\u2019 collected store:\nHe is the rivers\u2019 surest friend;\nHe bids the rains, and they descend.\nStars, planets, constellations own\nTheir monarch of the golden throne.\nLord of twelve forms,(1012) to thee I bow,\nMost glorious King of heaven art thou.\nO R\u00e1ma, he who pays aright\nDue worship to the Lord of Light\nShall never fall oppressed by ill,\nBut find a stay and comfort still.\nAdore with all thy heart and mind\nThis God of Gods, to him resigned;\nAnd thou his saving power shalt know\nVictorious o\u2019er thy giant foe.\u201d\n\n[This Canto does not appear in the Bengal recension. It comes in awkwardly\nand may I think be considered as an interpolation, but I paraphrase a\nportion of it as a relief after so much fighting and carnage, and as an\ninteresting glimpse of the monotheistic ideas which underlie the Hindu\nreligion. The hymn does not readily lend itself to metrical translation,\nand I have not attempted here to give a faithful rendering of the whole. A\nliteral version of the text and the commentary given in the Calcutta\nedition will be found in the Additional Notes.\n\nA canto is here omitted. It contains fighting of the ordinary kind between\nR\u00e1ma and R\u00e1va\u1e47, and a description of sights and sounds of evil omen\nforeboding the destruction of the giant.]\n\n\n\n\nCanto CVIII. The Battle.\n\n\nHe spoke, and vanished: R\u00e1ma raised\nHis eyes with reverence meet, and praised\nThe glorious Day-God full in view:\nThen armed him for the fight anew.\nUrged onward by his charioteer\nThe giant\u2019s foaming steeds came near,\nAnd furious was the battle\u2019s din\nWhere each resolved to die or win.\nThe R\u00e1kshas host and V\u00e1nar bands\nStood with their weapons in their hands,\nAnd watched in terror and dismay\nThe fortune of the awful fray.\nThe giant chief with rage inflamed\nHis darts at R\u00e1ma\u2019s pennon aimed;\nBut when they touched the chariot made\nBy heavenly hands their force was stayed.\nThen R\u00e1ma\u2019s breast with fury swelled;\nHe strained the mighty bow he held,\nAnd straight at R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s banner flew\nAn arrow as the string he drew\u2014\nA deadly arrow swift of flight,\nLike some huge snake ablaze with light,\nWhose fury none might e\u2019er repel,\u2014\nAnd, split in twain, the standard fell.\nAt R\u00e1ma\u2019s steeds sharp arrows, hot\nWith flames of fire, the giant shot.\nUnmoved the heavenly steeds sustained\nThe furious shower the warrior rained,\nAs though soft lotus tendrils smote\nEach haughty crest and glossy coat.\nThen volleyed swift by magic art,\nTree, mountain peak and spear and dart,\nTrident and pike and club and mace\nFlew hurtling straight at R\u00e1ma\u2019s face.\nBut R\u00e1ma with his steeds and car\nEscaped the storm which fell afar\nWhere the strange missiles, as they rushed\nTo earth, a thousand V\u00e1nars crushed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CIX. The Battle.\n\n\nWith wondrous power and might and skill\nThe giant fought with R\u00e1ma still.\nEach at his foe his chariot drove,\nAnd still for death or victory strove.\nThe warriors\u2019 steeds together dashed,\nAnd pole with pole re\u00ebchoing clashed.\nThen R\u00e1ma launching dart on dart\nMade R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s coursers swerve and start.\nNor was the lord of Lank\u00e1 slow\nTo rain his arrows on the foe,\nWho showed, by fiery points assailed,\nNo trace of pain, nor shook nor quailed.\nDense clouds of arrows R\u00e1ma shot\nWith that strong arm which rested not,\nAnd spear and mace and club and brand\nFell in dire rain from R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s hand.\nThe storm of missiles fiercely cast\nStirred up the oceans with its blast,\nAnd Serpent-Gods and fiends who dwell\nBelow were troubled by the swell.\nThe earth with hill and plain and brook\nAnd grove and garden reeled and shook:\nThe very sun grew cold and pale,\nAnd horror stilled the rising gale.\nGod and Gandharva, sage and saint\nCried out, with grief and terror faint:\n\u201cO may the prince of Raghu\u2019s line\nGive peace to Br\u00e1hmans and to kine,\nAnd, rescuing the worlds, o\u2019erthrow\nThe giant king our awful foe.\u201d\n\n  Then to his deadly string the pride\nOf Raghu\u2019s race a shaft applied.\nSharp as a serpent\u2019s venomed fang\nStraight to its mark the arrow sprang,\nAnd from the giant\u2019s body shred\nWith trenchant steel the monstrous head.\nThere might the triple world behold\nThat severed head adorned with gold.\nBut when all eyes were bent to view,\nSwift in its stead another grew.\nAgain the shaft was pointed well:\nAgain the head divided fell;\nBut still as each to earth was cast\nAnother head succeeded fast.\nA hundred, bright with fiery flame,\nFell low before the victor\u2019s aim,\nYet R\u00e1va\u1e47 by no sign betrayed\nThat death was near or strength decayed.\nThe doubtful fight he still maintained,\nAnd on the foe his missiles rained.\nIn air, on earth, on plain, on hill,\nWith awful might he battled still;\nAnd through the hours of night and day\nThe conflict knew no pause or stay.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CX. R\u00e1van\u2019s Death.\n\n\nThen M\u00e1tali to R\u00e1ma cried:\n\u201cLet other arms the day decide.\nWhy wilt thou strive with useless toil\nAnd see his might thy efforts foil?\nLaunch at the foe thy dart whose fire\nWas kindled by the Almighty Sire.\u201d\nHe ceased: and Raghu\u2019s son obeyed:\nUpon his string the hero laid\nAn arrow, like a snake that hissed.\nWhose fiery flight had never missed:\nThe arrow Saint Agastya gave\nAnd blessed the chieftain\u2019s life to save\nThat dart the Eternal Father made\nThe Monarch of the Gods to aid;\nBy Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self on him bestowed\nWhen forth to fight Lord Indra rode.\n\u2019Twas feathered with the rushing wind;\nThe glowing sun and fire combined\nTo the keen point their splendour lent;\nThe shaft, ethereal element,\nBy Meru\u2019s hill and Mandar, pride\nOf mountains, had its weight supplied.\nHe laid it on the twisted cord,\nHe turned the point at Lank\u00e1\u2019s lord,\nAnd swift the limb-dividing dart\nPierced the huge chest and cleft the heart,\nAnd dead he fell upon the plain\nLike Vritra by the Thunderer slain.\nThe R\u00e1kahas host when R\u00e1va\u1e47 fell\nSent forth a wild terrific yell,\nThen turned and fled, all hope resigned,\nThrough Lank\u00e1\u2019s gates, nor looked behind.\nHis voice each joyous V\u00e1nar raised,\nAnd R\u00e1ma, conquering R\u00e1ma, praised.\nSoft from celestial minstrels came\nThe sound of music and acclaim.\nSoft, fresh, and cool, a rising breeze\nBrought odours from the heavenly trees,\nAnd ravishing the sight and smell\nA wondrous rain of blossoms fell:\nAnd voices breathed round Raghu\u2019s son:\n\u201cChampion of Gods, well done, well done.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXI. Vibhishan\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nVibhisha\u1e47 saw his brother slain,\nNor could his heart its woe contain.\nO\u2019er the dead king he sadly bent\nAnd mourned him with a loud lament:\n\u201cO hero, bold and brave,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cSkilled in all arms, in battle tried.\nSpoiled of thy crown, with limbs outspread,\nWhy wilt thou press thy gory bed?\nWhy slumber on the earth\u2019s cold breast,\nWhen sumptuous couches woo to rest?\nAh me, my brother over bold,\nThine is the fate my heart foretold:\nBut love and pride forbade to hear\nThe friend who blamed thy wild career.\nFallen is the sun who gave us light,\nOur lordly moon is veiled in night.\nOur beacon fire is dead and cold\nA hundred waves have o\u2019er it rolled.\nWhat could his light and fire avail\nAgainst Lord R\u00e1ma\u2019s arrowy hail?\nWoe for the giants\u2019 royal tree,\nWhose stately height was fair to see.\nHis buds were deeds of kingly grace,\nHis bloom the sons who decked his race.\nWith rifled bloom and mangled bough\nThe royal tree lies prostrate now.\u201d\n\u201cNay, idly mourn not,\u201d R\u00e1ma cried,\n\u201cThe warrior king has nobly died,\nIntrepid hero, firm through all,\nSo fell he as the brave should fall;\nAnd ill beseems it chiefs like us\nTo weep for those who perish thus.\nBe firm: thy causeless grief restrain,\nAnd pay the dues that yet remain.\u201d\n\n  Again Vibhisha\u1e47 sadly spoke:\n\u201cHis was the hero arm that broke\nEmbattled Gods\u2019 and Indra\u2019s might,\nUnconquered ere to-day in fight.\nHe rushed against thee, fought and fell,\nAs Ocean, when his waters swell,\nHurling his might against a rock,\nFalls spent and shattered by the shock.\nWoe for our king\u2019s untimely end,\nThe generous lord the trusty friend:\nOur sure defence when fear arose,\nA dreaded scourge to stubborn foes.\nO, let the king thy hand has slain\nThe honours of the dead obtain.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma answered. \u201cHatred dies\nWhen low in dust the foeman lies.\nNow triumph bids the conflict cease,\nAnd knits us in the bonds of peace.\nLet funeral rites be duly paid.\nAnd be it mine thy toil to aid.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXII. The R\u00e1kshas Dames.\n\n\nHigh rose the universal wail\nThat mourned the monarch\u2019s death, and, pale\nWith crushing woe, her hair unbound,\nHer eyes in floods of sorrow drowned,\nForth from the inner chambers came\nWith trembling feet each royal dame,\nHeedless of those who bade them stay\nThey reached the field where R\u00e1va\u1e47 lay;\nThere falling by their husband\u2019s side,\n\u201cAh, King! ah dearest lord!\u201d they cried.\nLike creepers shattered by the storm\nThey threw them on his mangled form.\nOne to his bleeding bosom crept\nAnd lifted up her voice and wept.\nAbout his feet one mourner clung,\nAround his neck another hung,\nOne on the giant\u2019s severed head,\nHer pearly tears in torrents shed\nFast as the drops the summer shower\nPours down upon the lotus flower.\n\u201cAh, he whose arm in anger reared\nThe King of Gods and Y\u00e1ma feared,\nWhile panic struck their heavenly train,\nLies prostrate in the battle slain.\nThy haughty heart thou wouldst not bend,\nNor listen to each wiser friend.\nAh, had the dame, as they implored,\nBeen yielded to her injured lord,\nWe had not mourned this day thy fall,\nAnd happy had it been for all.\nThen R\u00e1ma and thy friends content\nIn blissful peace their days had spent.\nThine injured brother had not fled,\nNor giant chiefs and V\u00e1nars bled.\nYet for these woes we will not blame.\nThy fancy for the Maithil dame,\nFate, ruthless Fate, whom none may bend\nHas urged thee to thy hapless end.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXIII. Mandodar\u00ed\u2019s Lament.\n\n\nWhile thus they wept, supreme in place,\nThe loveliest for form and face,\nMandodar\u00ed drew near alone,\nLooked on her lord and made her moan:\n\u201cAh Monarch, Indra feared to stand\nIn fight before thy conquering hand.\nFrom thy dread spear the Immortals ran;\nAnd art thou murdered by a man?\nAh, \u2019twas no child of earth, I know,\nThat smote thee with that mortal blow.\n\u2019Twas Death himself in R\u00e1ma\u2019s shape,\nThat slew thee: Death whom none escape.\nOr was it he who rules the skies\nWho met thee, clothed in man\u2019s disguise?\nAh no, my lord, not Indra: he\nIn battle ne\u2019er could look on thee.\nOne only God thy match I deem:\n\u2019Twas Vish\u1e47u\u2019s self, the Lord Supreme,\nWhose days through ceaseless time extend\nAnd ne\u2019er began and ne\u2019er shall end:\nHe with the discus, shell, and mace,\nBrought ruin on the giant race.\nGirt by the Gods of heaven arrayed\nLike V\u00e1nar hosts his strength to aid,\nHe R\u00e1ma\u2019s shape and arms assumed\nAnd slew the king whom Fate had doomed.\nIn Janasth\u00e1n when Khara died\nWith giant legions by his side,\nNo mortal was the unconquered foe\nIn R\u00e1ma\u2019s form who struck the blow.\nWhen Hanum\u00e1n the Van\u00e1r came\nAnd burnt thy town with hostile flame,\nI counselled peace in anxious fear:\nI counselled, but thou wouldst not hear.\nThy fancy for the foreign dame\nHas brought thee death and endless shame.\nWhy should thy foolish fancy roam?\nHadst thou not wives as fair at home?\nIn beauty, form and grace could she,\nDear lord, surpass or rival me?\nNow will the days of S\u00edt\u00e1 glide\nIn tranquil joy by R\u00e1ma\u2019s side:\nAnd I\u2014ah me, around me raves\nA sea of woe with whelming waves.\nWith thee in days of old I trod\nEach spot beloved by nymph and God;\nI stood with thee in proud delight\nOn Mandar\u2019s side and Meru\u2019s height;\nWith thee, my lord, enchanted strayed\nIn Chaitraratha\u2019s(1013) lovely shade,\nAnd viewed each fairest scene afar\nTransported in thy radiant car.\nBut source of every joy wast thou,\nAnd all my bliss is ended now.\u201d\n\n  Then R\u00e1ma to Vibhisha\u1e47 cried:\n\u201cWhate\u2019er the ritual bids, provide.\nObsequial honours duly pay,\nAnd these sad mourners\u2019 grief allay.\u201d\nVibhisha\u1e47 answered, wise and true,\nFor duty\u2019s changeless law he knew:\n\u201cNay one who scorned all sacred vows\nAnd dared to touch another\u2019s spouse,\nFell tyrant of the human race,\nWith funeral rites I may not grace.\u201d\n\n  Him Raghu\u2019s royal son, the best\nOf those who love the law, addressed:\n\u201cFalse was the rover of the night,\nHe loved the wrong and scorned the right.\nYet for the fallen warrior plead\nThe dauntless heart, the valorous deed.\nLet him who ne\u2019er had brooked defeat,\nThe chief whom Indra feared to meet,\nThe ever-conquering lord, obtain\nThe honours that should grace the slain.\u201d\nVibhisha\u1e47 bade his friends prepare\nThe funeral rites with thoughtful care.\nHimself the royal palace sought\nWhence sacred fire was quickly brought,\nWith sandal wood and precious scents\nAnd pearl and coral ornaments.\nWise Br\u00e1hmans, while the tears that flowed\nDown their wan cheeks their sorrow sowed,\nUpon a golden litter laid\nThe corpse in finest ropes arrayed.\nThereon were flowers and pennons hung,\nAnd loud the monarch\u2019s praise was sung.\nThen was the golden litter raised,\nWhile holy fire in order blazed.\nAnd first in place Vibhisha\u1e47 led\nThe slow procession of the dead,\nBehind, their cheeks with tears bedewed,\nCame sad the widowed multitude.\nWhere, raised as Br\u00e1hmans ordered, stood\nPiled sandal logs, and scented wood,\nThe body of the king was set\nHigh on a deerskin coverlet.\nThen duly to the monarch\u2019s shade\nThe offerings for the dead they paid,\nAnd southward on the eastern side\nAn altar formed and fire supplied.\nThen on the shoulder of the dead\nThe oil and clotted milk were shed.\nAll rites were done as rules ordain:\nThe sacrificial goat was slain.\nNext on the corpse were perfumes thrown\nAnd many a flowery wreath was strown;\nAnd with Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s ready aid\nRich vesture o\u2019er the king was laid.\nThen while the tears their cheeks bedewed\nParched grain upon the dead they strewed;\nLast, to the wood, as rules require,\nVibhisha\u1e47 set the kindling fire.\n\n  Then having bathed, as texts ordain,\nTo Lank\u00e1 went the mourning train.\nVibhisha\u1e47, when his task was done,\nStood by the side of Raghu\u2019s son.\nAnd R\u00e1ma, freed from every foe,\nUnstrung at last his deadly bow,\nAnd laid the glittering shafts aside,\nAnd mail by Indra\u2019s love supplied.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXIV. Vibhishan Consecrated.\n\n\nJoy reigned in heaven where every eye\nHad seen the Lord of Lank\u00e1 die.\nIn cars whose sheen surpassed the sun\u2019s\nTriumphant rode the radiant ones:\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s death, by every tongue,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s glorious deeds were sung.\nThey praised the V\u00e1nars true and brave,\nThe counsel wise Sugr\u00edva gave.\nThe deeds of Han\u00fam\u00e1n they told,\nThe valiant chief supremely bold,\nThe strong ally, the faithful friend,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s truth which naught could bend.\n\n  To M\u00e1tali, whom Indra sent,\nHis head the son of Raghu bent:\nAnd he with fiery steeds who clove\nThe clouds again to Swarga drove.\nRound King Sugr\u00edva brave and true\nHis arms in rapture R\u00e1ma threw,\nLooked on the host with joy and pride,\nAnd thus to noble Lakshma\u1e47 cried:\n\n  \u201cNow let king-making drops be shed,\nDear brother, on Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s head\nFor truth and friendship nobly shown,\nAnd make him lord of R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s throne.\u201d\nThis longing of his heart he told:\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 took an urn of gold\nAnd bade the wind-fleet V\u00e1nars bring\nSea water for the giants\u2019 king.\nThe brimming urn was swiftly brought:\nThen on a throne superbly wrought\nVibhisha\u1e47 sat, the giants\u2019 lord,\nAnd o\u2019er his brows the drops were poured.\nAs Raghu\u2019s son the rite beheld\nHis loving heart with rapture swelled:\nBut tenderer thoughts within him woke,\nAnd thus to Han\u00fam\u00e1n he spoke:\n\n  \u201cGo to my queen: this message give:\nSay Lakshma\u1e47 and Sugr\u00edva live.\nThe death of Lank\u00e1\u2019s monarch tell,\nAnd bid her joy, for all is well.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXV. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Joy.\n\n\nThe V\u00e1nar chieftain bowed his head,\nWithin the walls of Lank\u00e1 sped,\nLeave from the new-made king obtained,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s lovely garden gained.\nBeneath a tree the queen he found,\nWhere R\u00e1kshas warders watched around.\nHer pallid cheek, her tangled hair,\nHer raiment showed her deep despair,\nNear and more near the envoy came\nAnd gently hailed the weeping dame.\nShe started up in sweet surprise,\nAnd sudden joy illumed her eyes.\nFor well the V\u00e1nar\u2019s voice she knew,\nAnd hope reviving sprang and grew.\n\n  \u201cFair Queen,\u201d he said, \u201cour task is done:\nThe foe is slain and Lank\u00e1 won.\nTriumphant mid triumphant friends\nKind words of greeting R\u00e1ma sends.\n\u201cBlest for thy sake, O spouse most true,\nMy deadly foe I met and slew.\nMine eyes are strangers yet to sleep:\nI built a bridge athwart the deep\nAnd crossed the sea to Lank\u00e1\u2019s shore\nTo keep the mighty oath I swore.\nNow, gentle love, thy cares dispel,\nAnd weep no more, for all is well.\nFear not in R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s house to stay\nFor good Vibhisha\u1e47 now bears sway,\nFor constant truth and friendship known\nRegard his palace as thine own.\u201d\nHe greets thee thus thy heart to cheer,\nAnd urged by love will soon be here.\u201d\n\n  Then flushed with joy the lady\u2019s cheek.\nHer eyes o\u2019erflowed, her voice was weak;\nBut struggling with her sobs she broke\nHer silence thus, and faintly spoke:\n\u201cSo fast the flood of rapture came,\nMy trembling tongue no words could frame.\nNe\u2019er have I heard in days of bliss\nA tale that gave such joy as this.\nMore precious far than gems and gold\nThe message which thy lips have told.\u201d\n\n  His reverent hands the V\u00e1nar raised\nAnd thus the lady\u2019s answer praised:\n\u201cSweet are the words, O Queen, which thou\nTrue to thy lord, hast spoken now,\nBetter than gems and pearls of price,\nYea, or the throne of Paradise.\nBut, lady, ere I leave this place,\nGrant me, I pray, a single grace.\nPermit me, and this vengeful hand\nShall slay thy guards, this R\u00e1kshas band,\nWhose cruel insult threat and scorn\nThy gentle soul too long has borne.\u201d\n\n  Thus, stern of mood, Han\u00fam\u00e1n cried:\nThe Maithil lady thus replied:\n\u201cNay, be not wroth with servants: they,\nWhen monarchs bid must needs obey.\nAnd, vassals of their lords, fulfil\nEach fancy of their sovereign will.\nTo mine own sins the blame impute,\nFor as we sow we reap the fruit.\nThe tyrant\u2019s will these dames obeyed\nWhen their fierce threats my soul dismayed.\u201d\n\n  She ceased: with admiration moved\nThe V\u00e1nar chief her words approved:\n\u201cThy speech,\u201d he cried, \u201cis worthy one\nWhom love has linked to Raghu\u2019s son.\nNow speak, O Queen, that I may know\nThy pleasure, for to him I go.\u201d\nThe V\u00e1nar ceased: then Janak\u2019s child\nMade answer as she sweetly smiled:\n\u201c\u2019My first, my only wish can be,\nO chief, my loving lord to see.\u201d\nAgain the V\u00e1nar envoy spoke,\nAnd with his words new rapture woke:\n\u201cQueen, ere this sun shall cease to shine\nThy R\u00e1ma\u2019s eyes shall look in thine.\nAgain the lord of Raghu\u2019s race\nShall turn to thee his moon-bright face.\nHis faithful brother shall thou see\nAnd every friend who fought for thee,\nAnd greet once more thy king restored\nLike \u015aach\u00ed(1014) to her heavenly lord.\u201d\nTo Raghu\u2019s son his steps he bent\nAnd told the message that she sent.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXVI. The Meeting.\n\n\nHe looked upon that archer chief\nWhose full eye mocked the lotus leaf,\nAnd thus the noble V\u00e1nar spake:\n\u201cNow meet the queen for whose dear sake\nThy mighty task was first begun,\nAnd now the glorious fruit is won.\nO\u2019erwhelmed with woe thy lady lies,\nThe hot tears streaming from her eyes.\nAnd still the queen must long and pine\nUntil those eyes be turned to thine.\u201d\n\n  But R\u00e1ma stood in pensive mood,\nAnd gathering tears his eyes bedewed.\nHis sad looks sought the ground: he sighed\nAnd thus to King Vibhisha\u1e47 cried:\n\u201cLet S\u00edt\u00e1 bathe and tire her head\nAnd hither to my sight be led\nIn raiment sweet with precious scent,\nAnd gay with golden ornament.\u201d\n\n  The R\u00e1kshas king his palace sought,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 from her bower was brought.\nThen R\u00e1kshas bearers tall and strong,\nSelected from the menial throng,\nThrough Lank\u00e1\u2019s gate the queen, arrayed\nIn glorious robes and gems, conveyed.\nConcealed behind the silken screen,\nSwift to the plain they bore the queen,\nWhile V\u00e1nars, close on every side,\nWith eager looks the litter eyed.\nThe warders at Vibhisha\u1e47\u2019s hest\nThe onward rushing throng repressed,\nWhile like the roar of ocean loud\nRose the wild murmur of the crowd.\nThe son of Raghu saw and moved\nWith anger thus the king reproved:\n\u201cWhy vex with hasty blow and threat\nThe V\u00e1nars, and my rights forget?\nRepress this zeal, untimely shown:\nI count this people as mine own.\nA woman\u2019s guard is not her bower,\nThe lofty wall, the fenced tower:\nHer conduct is her best defence,\nAnd not a king\u2019s magnificence.\nAt holy rites, in war and woe,\nHer face unveiled a dame may show;\nWhen at the Maiden\u2019s Choice(1015) they meet,\nWhen marriage troops parade the street.\nAnd she, my queen, who long has lain\nIn prison racked with care and pain,\nMay cease a while her face to hide,\nFor is not R\u00e1ma by her side?\nLay down the litter: on her feet\nLet S\u00edt\u00e1 come her lord to meet.\nAnd let the hosts of woodland race\nLook near upon the lady\u2019s face.\u201d\n\n  Then Lakshma\u1e47 and each V\u00e1nar chief\nWho heard his words were filled with grief.\nThe lady\u2019s gentle spirit sank,\nAnd from each eye in fear she shrank,\nAs, her sweet eyelids veiled for shame,\nSlowly before her lord she came.\nWhile rapture battled with surprise\nShe raised to his her wistful eyes.\nThen with her doubt and fear she strove,\nAnd from her breast all sorrow drove.\nRegardless of the gathering crowd,\nBright as the moon without a cloud,\nShe bent her eyes, no longer dim,\nIn joy and trusting love on him.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXVII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Disgrace.\n\n\nHe saw her trembling by his side,\nAnd looked upon her face and cried:\n\u201cLady, at length my task is done,\nAnd thou, the prize of war, art won,\nThis arm my glory has retrieved,\nAnd all that man might do achieved;\nThe insulting foe in battle slain\nAnd cleared mine honour from its stain.\nThis day has made my name renowned\nAnd with success my labour crowned.\nLord of myself, the oath I swore\nIs binding on my soul no more.\nIf from my home my queen was reft,\nThis arm has well avenged the theft,\nAnd in the field has wiped away\nThe blot that on mine honour lay.\nThe bridge that spans the foaming flood,\nThe city red with giants\u2019 blood;\nThe hosts by King Sugr\u00edva led\nWho wisely counselled, fought and bled;\nVibhisha\u1e47\u2019s love, our guide and stay\u2014\nAll these are crowned with fruit to-day.\nBut, lady, \u2019twas not love for thee\nThat led mine army o\u2019er the sea.\n\u2019Twas not for thee our blood was shed,\nOr Lank\u00e1 filled with giant dead.\nNo fond affection for my wife\nInspired me in the hour of strife.\nI battled to avenge the cause\nOf honour and insulted laws.\nMy love is fled, for on thy fame\nLies the dark blot of sin and shame;\nAnd thou art hateful as the light\nThat flashes on the injured sight.\nThe world is all before thee: flee:\nGo where thou wilt, but not with me.\nHow should my home receive again\nA mistress soiled with deathless stain?\nHow should I brook the foul disgrace,\nScorned by my friends and all my race?\nFor R\u00e1va\u1e47 bore thee through the sky,\nAnd fixed on thine his evil eye.\nAbout thy waist his arms he threw,\nClose to his breast his captive drew,\nAnd kept thee, vassal of his power,\nAn inmate of his ladies\u2019 bower.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXVIII. S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s Reply.\n\n\nStruck down with overwhelming shame\nShe shrank within her trembling frame.\nEach word of R\u00e1ma\u2019s like a dart\nHad pierced the lady to the heart;\nAnd from her sweet eyes unrestrained\nThe torrent of her sorrows, rained.\nHer weeping eyes at length she dried,\nAnd thus mid choking sobs replied:\n\u201cCanst thou, a high-born prince, dismiss\nA high-born dame with speech like this?\nSuch words befit the meanest hind,\nNot princely birth and generous mind,\nBy all my virtuous life I swear\nI am not what thy words declare.\nIf some are faithless, wilt thou find\nNo love and truth in womankind?\nDoubt others if thou wilt, but own\nThe truth which all my life has shown.\nIf, when the giant seized his prey,\nWithin his hated arms I lay,\nAnd felt the grasp I dreaded, blame\nFate and the robber, not thy dame.\nWhat could a helpless woman do?\nMy heart was mine and still was true,\nWhy when Han\u00fam\u00e1n sent by thee\nSought Lank\u00e1\u2019s town across the sea,\nCouldst thou not give, O lord of men,\nThy sentence of rejection then?\nThen in the presence of the chief\nDeath, ready death, had brought relief,\nNor had I nursed in woe and pain\nThis lingering life, alas in vain.\nThen hadst thou shunned the fruitless strife\nNor jeopardied thy noble life,\nBut spared thy friends and bold allies\nTheir vain and weary enterprise.\nIs all forgotten, all? my birth,\nNamed Janak\u2019s child, from fostering earth?\nThat day of triumph when a maid\nMy trembling hand in thine I laid?\nMy meek obedience to thy will,\nMy faithful love through joy and ill,\nThat never failed at duty\u2019s call\u2014\nO King, is all forgotten, all?\u201d\n\n  To Lakshma\u1e47 then she turned and spoke\nWhile sobs and sighs her utterance broke:\n\u201cSumitr\u00e1\u2019s son, a pile prepare,\nMy refuge in my dark despair.\nI will not live to bear this weight\nOf shame, forlorn and desolate.\nThe kindled fire my woes shall end\nAnd be my best and surest friend.\u201d\n\n  His mournful eyes the hero raised\nAnd wistfully on R\u00e1ma gazed,\nIn whose stern look no ruth was seen,\nNo mercy for the weeping queen.\nNo chieftain dared to meet those eyes,\nTo pray, to question or advise.\n\n  The word was passed, the wood was piled\nAnd fain to die stood Janak\u2019s child.\nShe slowly paced around her lord,\nThe Gods with reverent act adored,\nThen raising suppliant hands the dame\nPrayed humbly to the Lord of Flame:\n\u201cAs this fond heart by virtue swayed\nFrom Raghu\u2019s son has never strayed,\nSo, universal witness, Fire\nProtect my body on the pyre,\nAs Raghu\u2019s son has idly laid\nThis charge on S\u00edt\u00e1, hear and aid.\u201d\n\n  She ceased: and fearless to the last\nWithin the flame\u2019s wild fury passed.\nThen rose a piercing cry from all\nDames, children, men, who saw her fall\nAdorned with gems and gay attire\nBeneath the fury of the fire.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXIX. Glory To Vishnu.\n\n\nThe shrill cry pierced through R\u00e1ma\u2019s ears\nAnd his sad eyes o\u2019erflowed with tears,\nWhen lo, transported through the sky\nA glorious band of Gods was nigh.\nAncestral shades,(1016) by men revered,\nIn venerable state appeared,\nAnd he from whom all riches flow,(1017)\nAnd Y\u00e1ma Lord who reigns below:\nKing Indra, thousand-eyed, and he\nWho wields the sceptre of the sea.(1018)\nThe God who shows the blazoned bull,(1019)\nAnd Brahm\u00e1 Lord most bountiful\nBy whose command the worlds were made\nAll these on radiant cars conveyed,\nBrighter than sun-beams, sought the place\nWhere stood the prince of Raghu\u2019s race,\nAnd from their glittering seats the best\nOf blessed Gods the chief addressed:\n\n  \u201cCouldst thou, the Lord of all, couldst thou,\nCreator of the worlds, allow\nThy queen, thy spouse to brave the fire\nAnd give her body to the pyre?\nDost thou not yet, supremely wise,\nThy heavenly nature recognize?\u201d\nThey ceased: and R\u00e1ma thus began:\n\u201cI deem myself a mortal man.\nOf old Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line, I spring\nFrom Da\u015baratha Ko\u015bal\u2019s king.\u201d\nHe ceased: and Brahm\u00e1\u2019s self replied:\n\u201cO cast the idle thought aside.\nThou art the Lord N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47, thou\nThe God to whom all creatures bow.\nThou art the saviour God who wore\nOf old the semblance of a boar;\nThou he whose discus overthrows\nAll present, past and future foes;\nThou Brahm\u00e1, That whose days extend\nWithout beginning, growth or end;\nThe God, who, bears the bow of horn,\nWhom four majestic arms adorn;\nThou art the God who rules the sense\nAnd sways with gentle influence;\nThou all-pervading Vish\u1e47u Lord\nWho wears the ever-conquering sword;\nThou art the Guide who leads aright,\nThou Krish\u1e47a of unequalled might.\nThy hand, O Lord, the hills and plains,\nAnd earth with all her life sustains;\nThou wilt appear in serpent form\nWhen sinks the earth in fire and storm.\nQueen S\u00edt\u00e1 of the lovely brows\nIs Lakshm\u00ed thy celestial spouse.\nTo free the worlds from R\u00e1va\u1e47 thou\nWouldst take the form thou wearest now.\nRejoice: the mighty task is done:\nRejoice, thou great and glorious one.\nThe tyrant, slain, thy labours end:\nTriumphant now to heaven ascend.\nHigh bliss awaits the devotee\nWho clings in loving faith to thee,\nWho celebrates with solemn praise\nThe Lord of ne\u2019er beginning days.\nOn earth below, in heaven above\nGreat joy shall crown his faith and love.\nAnd he who loves the tale divine\nWhich tells each glorious deed of thine\nThrough life\u2019s fair course shall never know\nThe fierce assault of pain and woe.\u201d(1020)\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXX. S\u00edt\u00e1 Restored.\n\n\nThus spoke the Self-existent Sire:\nThen swiftly from the blazing pyre\nThe circling flames were backward rolled,\nAnd, raising in his gentle hold\nAlive unharmed the Maithil dame,\nThe Lord of Fire embodied came.\nFair as the morning was her sheen,\nAnd gold and gems adorned the queen.\nHer form in crimson robes arrayed,\nHer hair was bound in glossy braid.\nHer wreath was fresh and sweet of scent,\nUndimmed was every ornament.\nThen, standing close to R\u00e1ma\u2019a side,\nThe universal witness cried:\n\u201cFrom every blot and blemish free\nThy faithful queen returns to thee.\nIn word or deed, in look or mind\nHer heart from thee has ne\u2019er declined.\nBy force the giant bore away\nFrom thy lone cot his helpless prey;\nAnd in his bowers securely kept\nShe still has longed for thee and wept.\nWith soft temptation, bribe and threat,\nHe bade the dame her love forget:\nBut, nobly faithful to her lord,\nHer soul the giant\u2019s suit abhorred.\nReceive, O King, thy queen again,\nPure, ever pure from spot and stain.\u201d\n\n  Still stood the king in thoughtful mood\nAnd tears of joy his eyes bedewed.\nThen to the best of Gods the best\nOf warrior chiefs his mind expressed:\n\n  \u201c\u2019Twas meet that mid the thousands here\nThe searching fire my queen should clear;\nFor long within the giant\u2019s bower\nShe dwelt the vassal of his power.\nFor else had many a slanderous tongue\nReproaches on mine honour flung,\nAnd scorned the king who, love-impelled,\nHis consort from the proof withheld.\nNo doubt had I, but surely knew\nThat Janak\u2019s child was pure and true,\nThat, come what might, in good and ill\nHer faithful heart was with me still.\nI knew that R\u00e1va\u1e47 could not wrong\nMy queen whom virtue made so strong.\nI knew his heart would sink and fail,\nNor dare her honour to assail,\nAs Ocean, when he raves and roars,\nFears to o\u2019erleap his bounding shores.\nNow to the worlds her truth is shown,\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 is again mine own.\nThus proved before unnumbered eyes,\nOn her pure fame no shadow lies.\nAs heroes to their glory cleave,\nMine own dear spouse I ne\u2019er will leave.\u201d\nHe ceased: and clasped in fond embrace\nOn his dear breast she hid her face.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXI. Dasaratha.\n\n\nTo him Mahe\u015bvar thus replied:\n\u201cO strong-armed hero, lotus-eyed,\nThou, best of those who love the right,\nHast nobly fought the wondrous fight.\nDispelled by thee the doom that spread\nThrough trembling earth and heaven is fled.\nThe worlds exult in light and bliss,\nAnd praise thy name, O chief, for this.\nNow peace to Bharat\u2019s heart restore,\nAnd bid Kausaly\u00e1 weep no more.\nThy face let Queen Kaikey\u00ed see,\nLet fond Sumitr\u00e1 gaze on thee.\nThe longing of thy friends relieve,\nThe kingdom of thy sires receive.\nLet sons of gentle S\u00edt\u00e1 born\nIkshv\u00e1ku\u2019s ancient line adorn.\nThen from all care and foemen freed\nPerform the offering of the steed.\nIn pious gifts thy wealth expend,\nThen to the home of Gods ascend,\nThy sire, this glorious king, behold,\nAmong the blest in heaven enrolled.\nHe comes from where the Immortals dwell:\nSalute him, for he loves thee well.\u201d\n\n  His mandate Raghu\u2019s sons obeyed,\nAnd to their sire obeisance made,\nWhere high he stood above the car\nIn wondrous light that shone afar,\nHis limbs in radiant garments dressed\nWhereon no spot of dust might rest.\nWhen on the son he loved so well\nThe eyes of Da\u015baratha fell,\nHe strained the hero to his breast\nAnd thus with gentle words addressed:\n\u201cNo joy to me is heavenly bliss,\nFor there these eyes my R\u00e1ma miss.\nEnrolled on high with saint and sage,\nThy woes, dear son, my thoughts engage.\nKaikey\u00ed\u2019s guile I ne\u2019er forget:\nHer cruel words will haunt me yet,\nWhich sent thee forth, my son, to roam\nThe forest far from me and home.\nNow when I look on each dear face,\nAnd hold you both in fond embrace,\nMy heart is full of joy to see\nThe sons I love from danger free.\nNow know I what the Gods designed,\nAnd how in R\u00e1ma\u2019s form enshrined\nThe might of Purushottam lay,\nThe tyrant of the worlds to slay.\nAh, how Kausaly\u00e1 will rejoice\nTo hear again her darling\u2019s voice,\nAnd, all thy weary wanderings o\u2019er,\nTo gaze upon thy face once more.\nAh blest, for ever blest are they\nWhose eyes shall see the glorious day\nOf thy return in joy at last,\nThy term of toil and exile past.\nAyodhy\u00e1\u2019s lord, begin thy reign,\nAnd day by day new glory gain.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and R\u00e1ma thus replied:\n\u201cBe not this grace, O sire, denied.\nThose hasty words, that curse revoke\nWhich from thy lips in anger broke:\n\u201cKaikey\u00ed, be no longer mine:\nI cast thee off, both thee and thine.\u201d\nO father, let no sorrow fall\nOn her or hers: thy curse recall.\u201d\n\u201cYea, she shall live, if so thou wilt,\u201d\nThe sire replied, \u201cabsolved from guilt.\u201d\nRound Lakshma\u1e47 then his arms he threw,\nAnd moved by love began anew:\n\u201cGreat store of merit shall be thine,\nAnd brightly shall thy glory shine;\nSecure on earth thy brother\u2019s grace.\nAnd high in heaven shall be thy place.\nThy glorious king obey and fear:\nTo him the triple world is dear.\nGod, saint, and sage, by Indra led,\nTo R\u00e1ma bow the reverent head,\nNor from the Lord, the lofty-souled,\nTheir worship or their praise withhold.\nHeart of the Gods, supreme is he,\nThe One who ne\u2019er shall cease to be.\u201d\n\n  On S\u00edt\u00e1 then he looked and smiled;\n\u201cList to my words\u201d he said, \u201cdear child,\nLet not thy gentle breast retain\nOne lingering trace of wrath or pain.\nWhen by the fire thy truth be proved,\nBy love for thee his will was moved.\nThe furious flame thy faith confessed\nWhich shrank not from the awful test:\nAnd thou, in every heart enshrined,\nShalt live the best of womankind.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: he bade the three adieu,\nAnd home to heaven exulting flew.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXII. Indra\u2019s Boon.\n\n\nThen Indra, he whose fiery stroke\nSlew furious P\u00e1ka, turned and spoke:\n\u201cA glorious day, O chief, is this,\nRich with the fruit of lasting bliss.\nWell pleased are we: we love thee well\nNow speak, thy secret wishes tell.\u201d\n\n  Thus spake the sovereign of the sky,\nAnd this was R\u00e1ma\u2019s glad reply:\n\u201cIf I have won your grace, incline\nTo grant this one request of mine.\nRestore, O King: the V\u00e1nar dead\nWhose blood for me was nobly shed.\nTo life and strength my friends recall,\nAnd bring them back from Y\u00e1ma\u2019s hall.\nWhen, fresh in might the warriors rise,\nPrepare a feast to glad their eyes.\nLet fruits of every season glow,\nAnd streams of purest water flow.\u201d\n\n  Thus Raghu\u2019s son, great-hearted, prayed,\nAnd Indra thus his answer made:\n\u201cHigh is the boon thou seekest: none\nShould win this grace but Raghu\u2019s son.\nYet, faithful to the word I spake,\nI grant the prayer for thy dear sake.\nThe V\u00e1nars whom the giants slew\nTheir life and vigour shall renew.\nTheir strength repaired, their gashes healed\nWhose torrents dyed the battle field,\nThe warrior hosts from death shall rise\nLike sleepers when their slumber flies.\u201d\n\n  Restored from Y\u00e1ma\u2019s dark domain\nThe V\u00e1nar legions filled the plain,\nAnd, round the royal chief arrayed,\nWith wondering hearts obeisance paid.\nEach God the son of Raghu praised,\nAnd cried as loud his voice he raised:\n\u201cTurn, King, to fair Ayodhy\u00e1 speed,\nAnd leave thy friends of V\u00e1nar breed.\nThy true devoted consort cheer\nAfter long days of woe and fear.\nBharat, thy loyal brother, see,\nA hermit now for love of thee.\nThe tears of Queen Kau\u015baly\u00e1 dry,\nAnd light with joy each stepdame\u2019s eye;\nThen consecrated king of men\nMake glad each faithful citizen.\u201d\n\n  They ceased: and borne on radiant cars\nSought their bright home amid the stars.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXIII. The Magic Car.\n\n\nThen slept the tamer of his foes\nAnd spent the night in calm repose.\nVibhisha\u1e47 came when morning broke,\nAnd hailed the royal chief, and spoke:\n\u201cHere wait thee precious oil and scents,\nAnd rich attire and ornaments.\nThe brimming urns are newly filled,\nAnd women in their duty skilled,\nWith lotus-eyes, thy call attend,\nAssistance at thy bath to lend.\u201d\n\u201cLet others,\u201d R\u00e1ma cried, \u201cdesire\nThese precious scents, this rich attire,\nI heed not such delights as these,\nFor faithful Bharat, ill at ease,\nWatching for me is keeping now\nFar far away his rigorous vow.\nBy Bharat\u2019s side I long to stand,\nI long to see my fatherland.\nFar is Ayodhy\u00e1: long, alas,\nThe dreary road and hard to pass.\u201d\n\n  \u201cOne day,\u201d Vibhisha\u1e47 cried, \u201cone day\nShall bear thee o\u2019er that length of way.\nIs not the wondrous chariot mine,\nNamed Pushpak, wrought by hands divine.\nThe prize which R\u00e1va\u1e47 seized of old\nVictorious o\u2019er the God of Gold?\nThis chariot, kept with utmost care,\nWill waft thee through the fields of air,\nAnd thou shalt light unwearied down\nIn fair Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s royal town.\nBut yet if aught that I have done\nHas pleased thee well, O Raghu\u2019s son;\nIf still thou carest for thy friend,\nSome little time in Lank\u00e1 spend;\nThere after toil of battle rest\nWithin my halls an honoured guest.\u201d\nAgain the son of Raghu spake:\n\u201cThy life was perilled for my sake.\nThy counsel gave me priceless aid:\nAll honours have been richly paid.\nScarce can my love refuse, O best\nOf giant kind, thy last request.\nBut still I yearn once more to see\nMy home and all most dear to me;\nNor can I brook one hour\u2019s delay:\nForgive me, speed me on my way.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the magic car was brought.\nOf yore by Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1 wrought.\nIn sunlike sheen it flashed and blazed;\nAnd Raghu\u2019s sons in wonder gazed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXIV. The Departure.\n\n\nThe giant lord the chariot viewed,\nAnd humbly thus his speech renewed:\n\u201cBehold, O King, the car prepared:\nNow be thy further will declared.\u201d\nHe ceased: and R\u00e1ma spake once more:\n\u201cThese hosts who thronged to Lank\u00e1\u2019s shore\nTheir faith and might have nobly shown,\nAnd set thee on the giants\u2019 throne.\nLet pearls and gems and gold repay\nThe feats of many a desperate day,\nThat all may go triumphant hence\nProud of their noble recompense.\u201d\nVibhisha\u1e47, ready at his call,\nWith gold and gems enriched them all.\nThen R\u00e1ma clomb the glorious car\nThat shone like day\u2019s resplendent star.\nThere in his lap he held his dame\nVailing her eyes in modest shame.\nBeside him Lakshma\u1e47 took his stand,\nWhose mighty bow still armed his hand,\n\u201cO King Vibhisha\u1e47,\u201d R\u00e1ma cried,\n\u201cO V\u00e1nar chiefs, so long allied,\nMy comrades till the foemen fell,\nList, for I speak a long farewell.\nThe task, in doubt and fear begun,\nWith your good aid is nobly done.\nLeave Lank\u00e1\u2019s shore, your steps retrace,\nBrave warriors of the V\u00e1nar race.\nThou, King Sugr\u00edva, true, through all,\nTo friendship\u2019s bond and duty\u2019s call,\nSeek far Kishkindh\u00e1 with thy train\nAnd o\u2019er thy realm in glory reign.\nFarewell, Vibhisha\u1e47, Lank\u00e1\u2019s throne\nWon by our arms is now thine own,\nThou, mighty lord, hast nought to dread\nFrom heavenly Gods by Indra led.\nMy last farewell, 0 King, receive,\nFor Lank\u00e1\u2019s isle this hour I leave.\u201d\n\n  Loud rose their cry in answer: \u201cWe,\nO Raghu\u2019s son, would go with thee.\nWith thee delighted would we stray\nWhere sweet Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s groves are gay,\nThen in the joyous synod view\nKing-making balm thy brows bedew;\nOur homage to Kau\u015baly\u00e1 pay,\nAnd hasten on our homeward way.\u201d\n\n  Their prayer the son of Raghu heard,\nAnd spoke, his heart with rapture stirred:\n\u201cSugr\u00edva, O my faithful friend,\nVibhisha\u1e47 and ye chiefs, ascend.\nA joy beyond all joys the best\nWill fill my overflowing breast,\nIf girt by you, O noble band,\nI seek again my native land.\u201d\nWith V\u00e1nar lords in danger tried\nSugr\u00edva sprang to R\u00e1ma\u2019s side,\nAnd girt by chiefs of giant kind\nVibh\u00edshan\u2019s step was close behind.\nSwift through the air, as R\u00e1ma chose,\nThe wondrous car from earth arose.\nAnd decked with swans and silver wings\nBore through the clouds its freight of kings.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXV. The Return.\n\n\nThen R\u00e1ma, speeding through the skies,\nBent on the earth his eager eyes:\n\u201cLook, S\u00edt\u00e1, see, divinely planned\nAnd built by Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1\u2019s hand,\nLank\u00e1 the lovely city rest\nEnthroned on Mount Trik\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s crest\nBehold those fields, ensanguined yet,\nWhere V\u00e1nar hosts and giants met.\nThere, vainly screened by charm and spell,\nThe robber R\u00e1van fought and fell.\nThere knelt Mandodar\u00ed(1021) and shed\nHer tears in floods for R\u00e1van dead.\nAnd every dame who loved him sent\nFrom her sad heart her wild lament.\nThere gleams the margin of the deep,\nWhere, worn with toil, we sank to sleep.\nLook, love, the unconquered sea behold,\nKing Varu\u1e47\u2019s home ordained of old,\nWhose boundless waters roar and swell\nRich with their store of pearl and shell.\nO see, the morning sun is bright\nOn fair Hira\u1e47yan\u00e1bha\u2019s(1022) height,\nWho rose from Ocean\u2019s sheltering breast\nThat Hanum\u00e1n might stay and rest.\nThere stretches, famed for evermore,\nThe wondrous bridge from shore to shore.\nThe worlds, to life\u2019s remotest day,\nDue reverence to the work shall pay,\nWhich holier for the lapse of time\nShall give release from sin and crime.\nNow thither bend, dear love, thine eyes\nWhere green with groves Kishkindh\u00e1 lies,\nThe seat of King Sugr\u00edva\u2019s reign,\nWhere B\u00e1li by this hand was slain.(1023)\nThere R\u00edshyam\u00faka\u2019s hill behold\nBright gleaming with embedded gold.\nThere too my wandering foot I set,\nThere King Sugr\u00edva first I met.\nAnd, where yon trees their branches wave,\nMy promise of assistance gave.\nThere, flushed with lilies, Pamp\u00e1 shines\nWith banks which greenest foliage lines,\nWhere melancholy steps I bent\nAnd mourned thee with a mad lament.\nThere fierce Kabandha, spreading wide\nHis giant arms, in battle died.\nTurn, S\u00edt\u00e1, turn thine eyes and see\nIn Janasth\u00e1n that glorious tree:\nThere R\u00e1va\u1e47, lord of giants slew\nOur friend Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yus brave and true,\nThy champion in the hopeless strife,\nWho gave for thee his noble life.\nNow mark that glade amid the trees\nWhere once we lived as devotees.\nSee, see our leafy cot between\nThose waving boughs of densest green,\nWhere R\u00e1va\u1e47 seized his prize and stole\nMy love the darling of my soul.\nO, look again: beneath thee gleams\nGod\u00e1var\u00ed the best of streams,\nWhose lucid waters sweetly glide\nBy lilies that adorn her side.\nThere dwelt Agastya, holy sage,\nIn plantain-sheltered hermitage.\nSee \u015aarabhanga\u2019s humble shed\nWhich sovereign Indra visited.\nSee where the gentle hermits dwell\nNeath Atri\u2019s rule who loved us well;\nWhere once thine eyes were blest to see\nHis sainted dame who talked with thee.\nNow rest thine eyes with new delight\nOn Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da\u2019s woody height,\nSee Jumna flashing in the sun\nThrough groves of brilliant foliage run.\nScreened by the shade of spreading boughs.\nThere Bharadv\u00e1ja keeps his vows,\nThere Gang\u00e1, river of the skies,\nRolls the sweet wave that purifies,\nThere \u015aringavera\u2019s towers ascend\nWhere Guha reigns, mine ancient friend.\nI see, I see thy glittering spires,\nAyodhy\u00e1, city of my sires.\nBow down, bow down thy head, my sweet,\nOur home, our long-lost home to greet.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXVI. Bharat Consoled.\n\n\nBut R\u00e1ma bade the chariot stay,\nAnd halting in his airy way,\nIn Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s holy shade\nHis homage to the hermit paid.\n\u201cO saint,\u201d he cried, \u201cI yearn to know\nMy dear Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s weal and woe.\nO tell me that the people thrive,\nAnd that the queens are yet alive.\u201d\n\n  Joy gleamed in Bhardv\u00e1ja\u2019s eye,\nWho gently smiled and made reply:\n\u201cThy brother, studious of thy will,\nIs faithful and obedient still.\nIn tangled twine he coils his hair:\nThy safe return is all his care.\nBefore thy shoes he humbly bends,\nAnd to thy house and realm attends.\nWhen first these dreary years began,\nWhen first I saw the banished man,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1, in his hermit coat,\nAt this sad heart compassion smote.\nMy breast with tender pity swelled:\nI saw thee from thy home expelled,\nReft of all princely state, forlorn,\nA hapless wanderer travel-worn,\nFirm in thy purpose to fulfil\nThy duty and thy father\u2019s will.\nBut boundless is my rapture now:\nTriumphant, girt with friends, art thou.\nWhere\u2019er thy wandering steps have been,\nThy joy and woe mine eyes have seen.\nThy glorious deeds to me art known,\nThe Br\u00e1hmans saved, the foes o\u2019erthrown.\nSuch power have countless seasons spent\nIn penance and devotion lent.\nThy virtues, best of chiefs, I know,\nAnd now a boon would fain bestow.\nThis hospitable gift(1024) receive:\nThen with the dawn my dwelling leave.\u201d\nThe bended head of R\u00e1ma showed\nHis reverence for the grace bestowed;\nThen for each brave companion\u2019s sake\nHe sought a further boon and spake:\n\n  \u201cO let that mighty power of thine\nThe road to fair Ayodhy\u00e1 line\nWith trees where fruit of every hue\nThe V\u00e1nars\u2019 eye and taste may woo,\nAnd flowers of every season, sweet\nWith stores of honeyed juice, may meet.\u201d\nThe hero ceased: the hermit bent\nHis reverend head in glad assent;\nAnd swift, as Bharadv\u00e1ja willed,\nThe prayer of R\u00e1ma was fulfilled.\nFor many a league the lengthening road\nTrees thick with fruit and blossom showed\nWith luscious beauty to entice\nThe taste like trees of Paradise.\nThe V\u00e1nars passed beneath the shade\nOf that delightful colonnade,\nStill tasting with unbounded glee\nThe treasures of each wondrous tree.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXVII. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Message.\n\n\nBut R\u00e1ma, when he first looked down\nAnd saw afar Ayodhy\u00e1\u2019s town,\nHad called Hanum\u00e1n to his side,\nThe chief on whom his heart relied,\nAnd said: \u201cBrave V\u00e1nar, good at need,\nHaste onward, to Ayodhy\u00e1 speed,\nAnd learn, I pray, if all be well\nWith those who in the palace dwell.\nBut as thou speedest on thy way\nAwhile at \u015aringavera stay.\nTell Guha the Nish\u00e1das\u2019 lord,\nThat victor, with my queen restored,\nIn health and strength with many a friend\nHomeward again my steps I bend.\nThence by the road that he will show\nOn to Ayodhy\u00e1 swiftly go.\nThere with my love my brother greet,\nAnd all our wondrous tale repeat.\nSay that victorious in the strife\nI come with Lakshma\u1e47 and my wife,\nThen mark with keenest eye each trace\nOf joy or grief on Bharat\u2019s face.\nBe all his gestures closely viewed,\nEach change of look and attitude.\nWhere breathes the man who will not cling\nTo all that glorifies a king?\nWhere beats the heart that can resign\nAn ancient kingdom, nor repine\nTo lose a land renowned for breeds\nOf elephants and warrior steeds?\nIf, won by custom day by day,\nMy brother Bharat thirsts for sway,\nStill let him rule the nations, still\nThe throne of old Ikshv\u00e1ku fill.\nGo, mark him well: his feelings learn,\nAnd, ere we yet be near return.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and, garbed in human form,\nForth sped Han\u00fam\u00e1n swift as storm.\nSublime in air he rose, and through\nThe region of his father flew.\nHe saw far far beneath his feet\nWhere Gang\u00e1\u2019s flood and Jumna meet.\nDescending from the upper air\nHe entered \u015aringavera, where\nKing Guha\u2019s heart was well content\nTo hear the message R\u00e1ma sent.\nThen, with his mighty strength renewed,\nThe V\u00e1nar chief his way pursued,\nV\u00e1l\u00fakin\u00ed was far behind,\nAnd Gomat\u00ed with forests lined,\nAnd golden fields and pastures gay\nWith flocks and herds beneath him lay.\nThen Nandigr\u00e1ma charmed his eye\nWhere flowers were bright with every dye,\nAnd trees of lovely foliage made\nWith meeting boughs delightful shade,\nWhere women watched in trim array\nTheir little sons\u2019 and grandsons\u2019 play.\nHis eager eye on Bharat fell\nWho sat before his lonely cell.\nIn hermit weed, with tangled hair,\nPale, weak, and worn with ceaseless care.\nHis royal pomp and state resigned\nFor R\u00e1ma still he watched and pined,\nStill to his dreary vows adhered,\nAnd royal R\u00e1ma\u2019s shoes revered.\nYet still the terror of his arm\nPreserved the land from fear and harm.\n\n  The Wind-God\u2019s son, in form a man,\nRaised reverent hands and thus began:\n\u201cFond greeting, Prince, I bring to thee,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s self has sent it: he\nFor whom thy spirit sorrows yet\nAs for a hapless anchoret\nIn Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood, in dire distress,\nWith matted hair and hermit dress.\nThis sorrow from thy bosom fling,\nAnd hear the tale of joy I bring.\nThis day thy brother shalt thou meet\nExulting in his foe\u2019s defeat,\nFreed from his toil and lengthened vow,\nThe light of victory on his brow,\nWith S\u00edt\u00e1, Lakshma\u1e47 and his friends\nHomeward at last his steps he bends.\u201d\n\n  Then joy, too mighty for control,\nRushed in full flood o\u2019er Bharat\u2019s soul;\nHis reeling sense and strength gave way,\nAnd fainting on the earth he lay,\nAt length upspringing from the ground,\nHis arms about Han\u00fam\u00e1n wound,\nWith tender tears of rapture sprung,\nHe dewed the neck to which he clung:\n\u201cArt thou a God or man,\u201d he cried,\n\u201cWhom love and pity hither guide?\nFor this a hundred thousand kine,\nA hundred villages be thine.\nA score of maids of spotless lives\nTo thee I give to be thy wives,\nOf golden hue and bright of face,\nEach lovely for her tender grace.\u201d\n\n  He ceased a while by joy subdued,\nAnd then his eager speech renewed.\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXVIII. Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s Story.\n\n\n\u201cIn doubt and fear long years have passed\nAnd glorious tidings come at last.\nTrue, true is now the ancient verse\nWhich men in time of bliss rehearse:\n\u201cOnce only in a hundred years\nGreat joy to mortal men appears.\u201d\nBut now his woes and triumph tell,\nAnd loss and gain as each befell.\u201d\nHe ceased: Han\u00fam\u00e1n mighty-souled\nThe tale of R\u00e1ma\u2019s wanderings told\nFrom that first day on which he stood\nIn the drear shade of Da\u1e47\u1e0dak wood.\nHe told how fierce Vir\u00e1dha fell;\nHe told of \u015aarabhanga\u2019s cell\nWhere R\u00e1ma saw with wondering eyes\nIndra descended from the skies.\nHe told how \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00ed came,\nHer soul aglow with amorous flame,\nAnd fled repulsed, with rage and tears,\nReft of her nose and severed ears.\nHe told how R\u00e1ma\u2019s might subdued\nThe giants\u2019 furious multitude;\nHow Khara with the troops he led\nAnd Tri\u015bir\u00e1s and D\u00fasha\u1e47 bled:\nHow R\u00e1ma, tempted from his cot,\nThe golden deer pursued and shot,\nAnd R\u00e1va\u1e47 came and stole away\nThe Maithil queen his hapless prey,\nWhen, as he fought, the dame to save,\nHis noble life Jat\u00e1yus gave:\nHow R\u00e1ma still the the search renewed,\nThe robber to his hold pursued,\nBridging the sea from shore to shore,\nAnd found his queen to part no more.(1025)\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXIX. The Meeting With Bharat.\n\n\nO\u2019erwhelmed with rapture Bharat heard\nThe tale that all his being stirred,\nAnd, heralding the glad event,\nThis order to \u015aatrughna sent:\n\u201cLet every shrine with flowers be gay\nLet incense burn and music play.\nGo forth, go forth to meet your king,\nLet tabours sound and minstrels sing,\nLet bards swell high the note of praise\nSkilled in the lore of ancient days,\nCall forth the royal matrons: call\nEach noble from the council hall.\nSend all we love and honour most,\nSend Br\u00e1hmans and the warrior host,\nA glorious company to bring\nIn triumph home our lord the king.\u201d\n\n  Great rapture filled \u015aatrughna\u2019s breast,\nObedient to his brother\u2019s hest.\n\u201cSend forth ten thousand men\u201d he cried,\n\u201cLet brawny arms be stoutly plied,\nAnd, smoothing all with skilful care,\nThe road for Ko\u015bal\u2019s king prepare.\nThen o\u2019er the earth let thousands throw\nFresh showers of water cool as snow,\nAnd others strew with garlands gay\nWith loveliest blooms our monarch\u2019s way.\nOn tower and temple porch and gate\nLet banners wave in royal state,\nAnd be each roof and terrace lined\nWith blossoms loose and chaplets twined.\u201d\n\n  The nobles hasting forth fulfilled\nHis order as \u015aatrughna willed.\nSublime on elephants they rode\nWhose gilded girths with jewels glowed.\nAttended close by thousands more\nGay with the gear and flags they bore.\nA thousand chiefs their steeds bestrode,\nTheir glittering cars a thousand showed.\nAnd countless hosts in rich array\nPursued on foot their eager way.\nVeiled from the air with silken screens\nIn litters rode the widowed queens.\nKausaly\u00e1 first, acknowledged head\nAnd sovereign of the household, led:\nSumitr\u00e1 next, and after, dames\nOf lower rank and humbler names.\nThen compassed by a white-robed throng\nOf Br\u00e1hmans, heralded with song,\nWith shouts of joy from countless throats,\nAnd shells\u2019 and tambours\u2019 mingled notes,\nAnd drums resounding long and loud,\nExulting Bharat joined the crowd.\nStill on his head, well-trained in lore\nOf duty, R\u00e1ma\u2019s shoes he bore.\nThe moon-white canopy was spread\nWith flowery twine engarlanded,\nAnd jewelled cheuries, meet to hold\nO\u2019er R\u00e1ma\u2019s brow, shone bright with gold,\nThough Nandigr\u00e1ma\u2019s town they neared,\nOf R\u00e1ma yet no sign appeared.\nThen Bharat called the V\u00e1nar chief\nAnd questioned thus in doubt and grief:\n\u201cHast thou uncertain, like thy kind,\nA sweet delusive guile designed?\nWhere, where is royal R\u00e1ma? show\nThe hero, victor of the foe.\nI gaze, but see no V\u00e1nars still\nWho wear each varied shape at will.\u201d\n\n  In eager love thus Bharat cried,\nAnd thus the Wind-God\u2019s son replied:\n\u201cLook, Bharat, on those laden trees\nThat murmur with the song of bees;\nFor R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake the saint has made\nUntimely fruits, unwonted shade.\nSuch power in ages long ago\nCould Indra\u2019s gracious boon bestow.\nO, hear the V\u00e1nars\u2019 voices, hear\nThe shouting which proclaims them near.\nE\u2019en now about to cross they seem\nSweet Gomat\u00ed\u2019s delightful stream.\nI see, I see the car designed\nBy Brahm\u00e1\u2019s own creative mind,\nThe car which, radiant as the moon,\nMoves at the will by Brahm\u00e1\u2019s boon;\nThe car which once was R\u00e1van\u2019s pride,\nThe victor\u2019s spoil when R\u00e1van died.\nLook, there are Raghu\u2019s sons: between\nThe brothers stands the rescued queen.\nThere is Vibhisha\u1e47 full in view,\nSugr\u00edva and his retinue.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: then rapture loosed each tongue:\nFrom men and dames, from old and young,\nOne long, one universal cry,\n\u2019Tis he, \u2019tis R\u00e1ma, smote the sky.\nAll lighted down with eager speed\nFrom elephant and car and steed,\nAnd every joyful eye intent\nOn R\u00e1ma\u2019s moonbright face was bent.\nEntranced a moment Bharat gazed:\nThen reverential hands he raised,\nAnd on his brother humbly pressed\nThe honours due to welcome guest.\nThen Bharat clomb the car to greet\nHis king and bowed him at his feet,\nTill R\u00e1ma raised him face to face\nAnd held him in a close embrace.\nThen Lakshma\u1e47 and the Maithil dame\nHe greeted as he spoke his name(1026)\nHe greeted next, supreme in place,\nThe sovereign of the V\u00e1nar race,\nAnd J\u00e1mbav\u00e1n and B\u00e1li\u2019s son,\nAnd lords and chiefs, omitting none.(1027)\nSugr\u00edva to his heart he pressed\nAnd thus with grateful words addressed:\n\u201cFour brothers, V\u00e1nar king, were we,\nAnd now we boast a fifth in thee.\nBy kindly acts a friend we know:\nOffence and wrong proclaim the foe.\u201d\nTo King Vibhisha\u1e47 then he spake:\n\u201cWell hast thou fought for R\u00e1ma\u2019s sake.\u201d\nNor was the brave \u015aatrughna slow\nHis reverential love to show\nTo both his brothers, as was meet,\nAnd venerate the lady\u2019s feet.\nThen R\u00e1ma to his mother came,\nSaw her pale cheek and wasted frame,\nWith gentle words her heart consoled,\nAnd clasped her feet with loving hold.\nThen at Sumitr\u00e1\u2019s feet he bent,\nAnd fair Kaikey\u00ed\u2019s, reverent,\nGreeted each dame from chief to least,\nAnd bowed him to the household priest.\nUp rose a shout from all the throng:\n\u201cO welcome, R\u00e1ma, mourned so long.\nWelcome, Kausaly\u00e1\u2019s joy and pride,\u201d\nTen hundred thousand voices cried.\nThen Bharat placed, in duty taught,\nOn R\u00e1ma\u2019s feet the shoes he brought:\n\u201cMy King,\u201d he cried, \u201creceive again\nThe pledge preserved through years of pain,\nThe rule and lordship of the land\nEntrusted to my weaker hand.\nNo more I sigh o\u2019er sorrows past,\nMy birth and life are blest at last\nIn the glad sight this day has shown,\nWhen R\u00e1ma comes to rule his own.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: the faithful love that moved\nThe prince\u2019s soul each heart approved;\nNor could the V\u00e1nar chiefs refrain\nFrom tender tears that fell like rain.\nThen R\u00e1ma, stirred with joy anew,\nHis arms about his brother threw,\nAnd to the grove his course he bent\nWhere Bharat\u2019s hermit days were spent.\nAlighting in that pure retreat\nHe pressed the earth with eager feet.\nThen, at his hest, the car rose high\nAnd sailing through the northern sky\nSped homeward to the Lord of Gold\nWho owned the wondrous prize of old.(1028)\n\n\n\n\nCanto CXXX. The Consecration.\n\n\nThen, reverent hand to hand applied,\nThus Bharat to his brother cried:\n\u201cThy realm, O King, is now restored,\nUninjured to the rightful lord.\nThis feeble arm with toil and pain,\nThe weighty charge could scarce sustain.\nAnd the great burthen wellnigh broke\nThe neck untrained to bear the yoke.\nThe royal swan outspeeds the crow:\nThe steed is swift, the mule is slow,\nNor can my feeble feet be led\nO\u2019er the rough ways where thine should tread.\nNow grant what all thy subjects ask:\nBegin, O King, thy royal task.\nNow let our longing eyes behold\nThe glorious rite ordained of old,\nAnd on the new-found monarch\u2019s head\nLet consecrating drops be shed.\u201d\n\n  He ceased; victorious R\u00e1ma bent\nHis head in token of assent.\nHe sat, and tonsors trimmed with care\nHis tangles of neglected hair\nThen, duly bathed, the hero shone\nWith all his splendid raiment on.\nAnd S\u00edt\u00e1 with the matrons\u2019 aid\nHer limbs in shining robes arrayed,\nSumantra then, the charioteer,\nDrew, ordered by \u015aatrughna near,\nAnd stayed within the hermit grove\nThe chariot and the steeds he drove.\nTherein Sugr\u00edva\u2019s consorts, graced\nWith gems, and R\u00e1ma\u2019s queen were placed,\nAll fain Ayodhy\u00e1 to behold:\nAnd swift away the chariot rolled.\nLike Indra Lord of Thousand Eyes,\nDrawn by fleet lions through the skies.\nThus radiant in his glory showed\nKing R\u00e1ma as he homeward rode,\nIn power and might unparalleled.\nThe reins the hand of Bharat held.\nAbove the peerless victor\u2019s head\nThe snow-white shade \u015aatrughna spread,\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s ever-ready hand\nHis forehead with a chourie fanned.\nVibhisha\u1e47 close to Lakshma\u1e47\u2019s side\nSharing his task a chourie plied.\nSugr\u00edva on \u015aatrunjay came,\nAn elephant of hugest frame:\nNine thousand others bore, behind,\nThe chieftains of the V\u00e1nar kind\nAll gay, in forms of human mould,\nWith rich attire and gems and gold.\nThus borne along in royal state\nKing R\u00e1ma reached Ayodby\u00e1\u2019s gate\nWith merry noise of shells and drums\nAnd joyful shouts, He comes, he comes,\nA Br\u00e1hman host with solemn tread,\nAnd kine the long procession led,\nAnd happy maids in ordered bands\nThrew grain and gold with liberal hands.\nNeath gorgeous flags that waved in rows\nOn towers and roofs and porticoes.\nMid merry crowds who sang and cheered\nThe palace of the king they neared.\nThen Raghu\u2019s son to Bharat, best\nOf duty\u2019s slaves, these words addressed:\n\u201cPass onward to the monarch\u2019s hall.\nThe high-souled V\u00e1nars with thee call,\nAnd let the chieftains, as is meet,\nThe widows of our father greet.\nAnd to the V\u00e1nar king assign\nThose chambers, best of all, which shine\nWith lazulite and pearl inlaid,\nAnd pleasant grounds with flowers and shade.\u201d\n\n  He ceased: and Bharat bent his head;\nSugr\u00edva by the hand he led\nAnd passed within the palace where\nStood couches which \u015aatrughna\u2019s care,\nWith robes and hangings richly dyed,\nAnd burning lamps, had seen supplied.\nThen Bharat spake: \u201cI pray thee, friend,\nThy speedy messengers to send,\nEach sacred requisite to bring\nThat we may consecrate our king.\u201d\nSugr\u00edva raised four urns of gold,\nThe water for the rite to hold,\nAnd bade four swiftest V\u00e1nars flee\nAnd fill them from each distant sea.\nThen east and west and south and north\nThe V\u00e1nar envoys hastened forth.\nEach in swift flight an ocean sought\nAnd back through air his treasure brought,\nAnd full five hundred floods beside\nPure water for the king supplied.\nThen girt by many a Br\u00e1hman sage,\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, chief for reverend age,\nHigh on a throne with jewels graced\nKing R\u00e1ma and his S\u00edt\u00e1 placed.\nThere by J\u00e1b\u00e1li, far revered,\nVijay and Ka\u015byap\u2019s son appeared;\nBy Gautam\u2019s side K\u00e1tv\u00e1yan stood,\nAnd V\u00e1madeva wise and good,\nWhose holy hands in order shed\nThe pure sweet drops on R\u00e1ma\u2019s head.\nThen priests and maids and warriors, all\nApproaching at Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s call,\nWith sacred drops bedewed their king,\nThe centre of a joyous ring,\nThe guardians of the worlds, on high,\nAnd all the children of the sky\nFrom herbs wherewith their hands were filled\nRare juices on his brow distilled.\nHis brows were bound with glistering gold\nWhich Manu\u2019s self had worn of old,\nBright with the flash of many a gem\nHis sire\u2019s ancestral diadem.\n\u015aatrughna lent his willing aid\nAnd o\u2019er him held the regal shade:\nThe monarchs whom his arm had saved\nThe chouries round his forehead waved.\nA golden chain, that flashed and glowed\nWith gems the God of Wind bestowed:\nMahendra gave a glorious string\nOf fairest pearls to deck the king,\nThe skies with acclamation rang,\nThe gay nymphs danced, the minstrels sang.\nOn that blest day the joyful plain\nWas clothed anew with golden grain.\nThe trees the witching influence knew,\nAnd bent with fruits of loveliest hue,\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s consecration lent\nNew sweetness to each flowret\u2019s scent.\nThe monarch, joy of Raghu\u2019s line,\nGave largess to the Br\u00e1hmans, kine\nAnd steeds unnumbered, wealth untold\nOf robes and pearls and gems and gold.\nA jewelled chain, whose lustre passed\nThe glory of the sun, he cast\nAbout his friend Sugr\u00edva\u2019s neck;\nAnd, Angad B\u00e1li\u2019s son to deck,\nHe gave a pair of armlets bright\nWith diamond and lazulite.\nA string of pearls of matchless hue\nWhich gleams like tender moonlight threw\nAdorned with gems of brightest sheen,\nHe gave to grace his darling queen.\nThe offering from his hand received\nA moment on her bosom heaved;\nThen from her neck the chain she drew,\nA glance on all the V\u00e1nars threw,\nAnd wistful eyes on R\u00e1ma bent\nAs still she held the ornament.\nHer wish he knew, and made reply\nTo that mute question of her eye:\n\u201cYea, love; the chain on him bestow\nWhose wisdom truth and might we know,\nThe firm ally, the faithful friend\nThrough toil and peril to the end.\u201d\n\n  Then on Han\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s bosom hung\nThe chain which S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s hand had flung:\nSo may a cloud, when winds are still\nWith moon-lit silver gird a hill.\n\n  To every V\u00e1nar R\u00e1ma gave\nRich treasures from the mine and wave.\nAnd with their honours well content\nHomeward their steps the chieftains bent.\nTen thousand years Ayodhy\u00e1, blest\nWith R\u00e1ma\u2019s rule, had peace and rest,\nNo widow mourned her murdered mate,\nNo house was ever desolate.\nThe happy land no murrain knew,\nThe flocks and herds increased and grew.\nThe earth her kindly fruits supplied,\nNo harvest failed, no children died.\nUnknown were want, disease, and crime:\nSo calm, so happy was the time.(1029)\n\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\n\n\nSection XIII. R\u00e1van Doomed.\n\n\nAfterwards Rishya\u015bring said again to the King \u201cI will perform another\nsacrificial act to secure thee a son.\u201d Then the son of Vibh\u00e1\u1e47dak, of\nsubdued passions, seeking the happiness of the king, proceeded to perform\nthe sacrifice for the accomplishment of his wishes. Hither were previously\ncollected the gods, with the Gandharvas, the Siddhas and the sages, for\nthe sake of receiving their respective shares, Brahm\u00e1 too, the sovereign\nof the gods, with Sth\u00e1\u1e47u, and N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47a, chief of beings and the four\nsupporters of the universe, and the divine mothers of all the celestials,\nmet together there. To the A\u015bvamedha, the great sacrifice of the\nmagnanimous monarch, came also Indra the glorious one, surrounded by the\nMaruts. Rishya\u015bring then supplicated the gods assembled for their share of\nthe sacrifice (saying), \u201cThis devout king Da\u015baratha, who, through the\ndesire of offspring, confiding in you, has performed sacred austerities,\nand who has offered to you the sacrifice called A\u015bvamedha, is about to\nperform another sacrifice for the sake of obtaining sons: To him thus\ndesirous of offspring be pleased to grant the blessing: I supplicate you\nall with joined hands. May he have four sons, renowned through the\nuniverse.\u201d The gods replied to the sage\u2019s son supplicating with joined\nhands, \u201cBe it so: thou, O Br\u00e1hman, art ever to be regarded by us, as the\nking is in a peculiar manner. The lord of men by this sacrifice shall\nobtain the great object of his desires.\u201d Having thus said, the gods\npreceded by Indra, disappeared.\n\nThey all then having seen that (sacrifice) performed by the great sage\naccording to the ordinance went to Praj\u00e1pati the lord of mankind, and with\njoined hands addressed Brahm\u00e1 the giver of blessings, \u201cO Brahm\u00e1, the\nR\u00e1ksha R\u00e1va\u1e47a by name, to whom a blessing was awarded by thee, through\npride troubleth all of us the gods, and even the great sages, who\nperpetually practise sacred austerities. We, O glorious one, regarding the\npromise formerly granted by thy kindness that he should be invulnerable to\nthe gods, the D\u00e1navas and the Yakshas have born (_sic_) all, (his\noppression); this lord of R\u00e1kshas therefore distresses the universe; and,\ninflated by this promise unjustly vexes the divine sages, the Yakshas, and\nGandharvas, the Asuras, and men: where R\u00e1va\u1e47a remains there the sun loses\nhis force, the winds through fear of him do not blow; the fire ceases to\nburn; the rolling ocean, seeing him, ceases to move its waves. Vi\u015bravas,\ndistressed by his power, has abandoned Lank\u00e1 and fled. O divine one save\nus from R\u00e1va\u1e47a, who fills the world with noise and tumult. O giver of\ndesired things, be pleased to contrive a way for his destruction.\u201d\n\nBrahm\u00e1 thus informed by the devas, reflecting, replied, \u201cOh! I have\ndevised the method for slaying this outrageous tyrant. Upon his\nrequesting, \u2018May I be invulnerable to the divine sages, the Gaundharvas,\nthe Yakshas, the R\u00e1kshasas and the serpents,\u2019 I replied \u2018Be it so.\u2019 This\nR\u00e1ksha, through contempt, said nothing respecting man; therefore this\nwicked one shall be destroyed by man.\u201d The gods, preceded by \u015aakra,\nhearing these words spoken by Brahm\u00e1, were filled with joy.\n\nAt this time Vish\u1e47u the glorious, the lord of the world, arrayed in\nyellow, with hand ornaments of glowing gold, riding on Vinateya, as the\nsun on a cloud, arrived with his conch, his discus, and his club in his\nhand. Being adored by the excellent celestials, and welcomed by Brahm\u00e1, he\ndrew near and stood before him. All the gods then addressed Vish\u1e47u, \u201cO\nMadhusudana, thou art able to abolish the distress of the distressed. We\nintreat thee, be our sanctuary, O Vish\u1e47u.\u201d Vish\u1e47u replied, \u201cSay, what\nshall I do?\u201d The celestials hearing these his words added further. \u201cThe\nvirtuous, the encourager of excellence, eminent for truth, the firm\nobserver of his vows, being childless, is performing an A\u015bvamedha for the\npurpose of obtaining offspring. For the sake of the good of the universe,\nwe intreat thee, O Vish\u1e47u, to become his son. Dividing thyself into four\nparts, in the wombs of his three consorts equal to Hari, \u015ar\u00ed, and Kirti,\nassume the sonship of king Da\u015baratha, the lord of Ayodhy\u00e1, eminent in the\nknowledge of duty, generous and illustrious, as the great sages. Thus\nbecoming man, O Vish\u1e47u, conquer in battle R\u00e1va\u1e47a, the terror of the\nuniverse, who is invulnerable to the gods. This ignorant R\u00e1kshasa R\u00e1va\u1e47a,\nby the exertion of his power, afflicts the gods, the Gandharvaa, the\nSiddhas, and the most excellent sages; these sages, the Gandharvas, and\nthe Apsaras, sporting in the forest Nandana have been destroyed by that\nfurious one. We, with the sages, are come to thee seeking his destruction.\nThe Siddhas, the Gandharvas, and the Yakshas betake themselves to thee,\nthou art our only refuge; O Deva, afflicter of enemies, regard the world\nof men, and destroy the enemy of the gods.\u201d\n\nVish\u1e47u, the sovereign of the gods, the chief of the celestials, adored by\nall beings, being thus supplicated, replied to all the assembled gods\n(standing) before Brahm\u00e1, \u201cAbandon fear; peace be with you; for your\nbenefit having killed R\u00e1va\u1e47a the cruel, destructively active, the cause of\nfear to the divine sages, together with all his posterity, his courtiers\nand counsellors, and his relations, and friends, protecting the earth, I\nwill remain incarnate among men for the space of eleven thousand years.\u201d\n\nHaving given this promise to the gods, the divine Vish\u1e47u, ardent in the\nwork, sought a birth-place among men. Dividing himself into four parts, he\nwhose eyes resemble the lotus and the pulasa, the lotus petal-eyed, chose\nfor his father Da\u015baratha the sovereign of men. The divine sages then with\nthe Gandharvas, the Rudras, and the (different sorts of) Apsaras, in the\nmost excellent strains, praised the destroyer of Madhu, (saying) \u201cRoot up\nR\u00e1va\u1e47a, of fervid energy, the devastator, the enemy of Indra swollen with\npride. Destroy him, who causes universal lamentation, the annoyer of the\nholy ascetics, terrible, the terror of the devout Tapaswis. Having\ndestroyed R\u00e1va\u1e47a, tremendously powerful, who causes universal weeping,\ntogether with his army and friends, dismissing all sorrow, return to\nheaven, the place free from stain and sin, and protected by the sovereign\nof the celestial powers.\u201d\n\nThus far the Section, containing the plan for the death of R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\nCAREY AND MARSHMAN.\n\n\n\n\nCaput XIV. RATIO NECANDI RAVANAE EXCOGITATA.\n\n\nPrudens ille, voluminum sacrorum gnarus, responsum quod dederat aliquamdiu\nmeditatus, mente ad se revocata regem deuno est effatus: Parabo tibi aliud\nsacrum, genitale, prolis masculae adipiscendae gratia, cum carminibus in\nATHARVANIS exordio expressis rite peragendum. Tum coepit modestus\nVibh\u00e2ndaci filius, regis commodis intentus, parare sacrum, quo eius\ndesiderium expleret. Iam\u2019antea eo convenerant, ut suam quisque portionem\nacciperent, D\u00ee cum fidicinum coelestium choris, Beatique cum Sapientibus;\nBrachman Super\u00fbm regnator, Sth\u00e2nus nec non augustus N\u00e2r\u00e2yanus, Indrasque\nalmus, coram visendus Ventorum cohorte circumdatus, in magno isto\nsacrificio equino regis magnanimi. Ibidem vates ille deos, qui portiones\nsuas accipiendi gratia advenerant, apprecatus, En inquit, hicce ex\nDasarathus filiorum desiderio castimoniis adstrictus, fidei plenus,\nvestrum numen adoravit sacrificio equino. Nunc iterum accingit se ad aliud\nsacrum peragendum: quamobrem aequum est, ut filios cupienti vos faveatis.\nIlle ego, qui manus supplices tendo, vos universos pro eo apprecor:\nnascantur ei filii quatuor, faina per triplicem mundum clari. Divi\nsupplicem vatis filium invicem affari: Fiat quod petis! Tu nobis,\nvirsancte, imprimis es venerandus, nee minus rex ille; compos fiet voti\nsui egregii hominum princeps. Ita locuti D\u00ee Indra duce, ex oculis\nevanuerunt.\n\nSuperi vero, legitime in concilio congregati. BRACHMANEM mundi creatorem\nhis verbis compellarunt: Tuo munere auctus, O Brachman! gigas nomine\nR\u00e2vanas, prae superbia nos omnes vexat, pariterque Sapientes castimoniis\ngaudentes. A te propitio olim ex voto ei hoc munus concessum fuit, ut ne a\ndiis, Danuidis, Geniisve necari posset. Nos, oraculum tuum reveriti,\nfacinora eius qualiacunque toleramus. At ille gigantum tyrannus ternos\nmundos gravibus iniuriis vexat Deos, Sapientes, Genios, Fidicines\ncoelestes, Titanes, mortales denique, exsuperat ille aegre cohibendus,\ntuoque munere demens. Non ibi calet sol, neque Ventus prae timore spirat,\nnee flagrat ignis, ubi R\u00e2vanas versatur. Ipse oceanus, vagis fluctibus\nredimitus, isto viso stat immotus; eiectus fuit e sede sua Cuv\u00earus, huius\nrobore vexatus. Ergo ingens nobis periculum imminet ab hoc gigante visu\nhorribili; tuum est, alme Parens! auxilium parare, quo hic deleatur. Ita\nadmonitus ille a diis universis, paulisper meditatus, Ehem! inquit, hancce\ninveni rationem nefarium istum necandi. Petierat is a me, ut a Gandharvis,\na Geniis, a Divis, Danuibus Gigantibusque necari non posset et me annuente\nvoto suo potitus est. Prae contemptu vero monstrum illud homines non\ncommemoravit: ideo ab homine est necandus: nullum aliud exstat leti genus,\nquod ei sit fatale. Postquam audiverant gratum hunc sermonem BRACHMANIS\nore prolatum, D\u00ee cum duce suo Indra summopere gaudio erecti sunt. Eodem\ntemporis momento Vishnus, istuc accessit, splendore insignis, concham,\ndiscum et clavum manibus gestans, croceo vestitu, mundi dominus, vulturis\nVinateii dorso, sicuti sol nimbo, vectus, armillas ex auro candente\ngerens, salutatus a Super\u00fbm primoribus. Quem laudibus celebratum\nreverenter D\u00ee universi compellarunt. Tu animantium afflictorum es vindex,\nMadh\u00fbs interfector! quamobrem nos afflicti te apprecamur. Sis praesidio\nnobis numine tuo inconcusso. Dicite, inquit Vishnus, quid pro vobis facere\nme oporteat. Audito eius sermone, D\u00ee hunc in modum respondent: Rex quidam,\nnomine Dasarathus, austeris castimoniis sese castigavit, litavit\nsacrificio equino, prolis cupidus et prole carens. Nostro hortatu tu,\nVishnus, conditionem natorum eius subeas: ex tribus eius uxoribus,\nPudicitiae, Venustatis et Famae similibus, nasci, velis, temetipsum\nquadrifariam dividens. Ibi tu in humanam naturam conversus R\u00e2vanam,\ngravissimam mundi pestem, diis insuperabilem, O Vishnus! proelio caede.\nGigas ille vecors R\u00e2vanas Deos cum Fidicinum choris, Beatos et Sapientes\npraestantissimos vexat, audacia superbiens. Etenim ab hoc furioso\nSapientes Fidicines et nymphae, ludentes in Nandano viridario, sunt\nproculcati. Tu es nostrum omnium summa salus, divine bellator! Ut deoram\nhostes extinguas, ad sortem humanam animum converte. Augustus ille\nN\u00e2r\u00e2yanus, diis hunc in modum coram hortantibus, eosdem apto hoc sermone\ncompellavit: Quare, quaeso, hac in re negotium vestrum a me potissimum,\ncorporea specie palam facto, est peragendum aut unde tantus vobis terror\nfuit iniectus? His verbis a Vishn\u00fb interrogati D\u00ee talia proferre: Terror\nnobis instat, O Vishnus! a R\u00e2vana mundi direptore; a quo nos vindicare,\ncorpore humano assumpto, tuum est. Nemo alius coelicoiarum praeter te hunc\nscelestum enecare potis est. Nimirum ille, O hostium domitor! per\ndiuturnum tempus sese excruciaverat severissima abstinentia, qua magnus\nhicce rerum Parens propitius ipsi redditus est. Itaque almus votorum\nsponsor olim ei concessit securitatem ab ommibus animantibus, hominibus\ntamen exceptis. Hinc ilium, voti compotem, non aliunde quam ab homine\nnecis periculum urget: tu ergo, humanitate assumpta eum intertice. Sic\nmonitus Vishnus, Super\u00fbm princeps, quem mundus universus adorat, magnum\nParentem oeterosque deos, in concilio congregatos, recti auctores,\naffatur: Mittite timorem; bene bobis eveniat! Vestrae salutis gratia,\npostquam praelio necavero R\u00e2vanam cum filiis nepotibusque, cum amicis,\nministris, cognatis sociisque, crudelem istum aegre cohibendum, qui\ndivinis Sapientibus terrorem meutit, per decem millia annorum decies\ncentenis additis, commorabor in mortalium sedibus, orbem terrarum imperio\nregens. Tum divini sapientes et Fidicines conjuncti cum Rudris\nnympharumque choris celebravere Madh\u00fbs interfectorem hymnis, quales sedem\naetheriam decent.\n\n\u201cR\u00e2vanam ilium insolentem, acri impetu actum, superbia elatum, Super\u00fbm\nhostem, tumultus cientem, bonorum piorumque pestem, humanitate assumpta\npessamdare tuum est.\u201d\n\nSCHLEGEL.\n\n\n\n\nCaput XIV. IL MEZZO STABILITO PER UCCIDERE R\u00c1VANO.\n\n\nMa Riseyasringo soggiunse poscia al re: Tapprester\u00f2 io un altro rito\nsantissimo, genitale, onde tu conseguisca la prole che tu bram\u00ed. E in quel\npunto stesso il saggio figliulo di Vibh\u00e2ndaco, intento alla prosperit\u00e0 del\nre, pose mano al sacro rito per condurre ad effetto il suo desiderio. Gi\u00e0\nerano prima, per ricevere ciascuno la sua parte, qui convenuti al gran\nsacrifizio del re magnanimo l\u2019Asvamedha, i Devi coi Gandharvi, i Siddhi e\ni Muni, Brahma Signor dei Sari, Sth\u00e2nu e l\u2019 Augusto N\u00e2r\u00e2yana, i quattio\ncustodi dell\u2019 universo e le Madri degli Iddu, i Yacsi insieme cogli Dei, e\nil sovrano, venerando Indra, visibile, circondato dalla schiera dei\nMaruti. Quivi cos\u00ec parl\u00f2 Riscyasringo agli Dei venuti a partecipare del\nsacrifizio: Questo \u00e8 il re Dasaratha, che per desiderio di progenie gi\u00e0 s\u2019\nastrinse ad osservanze auster\u00e9, e test\u00e8 pieno di fede ha a voi, O eccelsi,\nsacrificato con un Asvamedha. Ora egli, sollecito d\u2019 aver figli, si\ndispone ad adempiere un nuovo rito; vogliate essere favorevole a lui che\nsospira progenie. Io alzo a voi supplici le mani, e voi tutti per lui\nimploro: nascano a lui quattro figli degni d\u2019essere celebrati pei tre\nmondi. Risposero gli Dei al supplichevole figliuolo del Risci: Sia fatto\nci\u00f2 che chiedi; a te ed al re parimente si debbe da noi, O Brahmano, sommo\npregio; canseguir\u00e0 il re per questo sacro rito il suo suppremo desiderio.\nCi\u00f2 detto disparvero i Numi preceduti da Indra.\n\nPoich\u00e8 videro gli Dei compiersi debitamente dal gran Risci l\u2019oblazione,\nvenuti al cospetto di Brahma facitor del mondo, signor delle creature,\ncos\u00ec parlarono reverenti a lui dator di grazie: O Brahma, un Racsaso per\nnome R\u00e2vano, eui tu fosti largo del tuo favore, \u00e8 per superbia infesto a\nnoi tutti e ai grandi Saggi penitenti. Un di, O Nume, augusto, tu propizio\na lui gli accordasti il favore, ch\u2019 egli bramava, di non poter essere\nucciso dagli Dei, dai D\u00e2navi n\u00e8 dai Yacsi: noi venerando i tuoi oracoli,\nogni cosa sopportiamo da costui. Quindi il signor dei Racsasi infesta con\nperpetue offese i tre mondi, i Devi, i Risci, i Yacsi ed i Gandharvi, gli\nAsuri e gli uomini: tutti egli opprime indegnamente inorgoglito pel tuo\ndono. Col\u00e0 dove si trova R\u00e2vano, pi\u00f9 non isfavilla per timore il sole, pi\u00f9\nnon spira il vento, pi\u00f9 non fiammeggia il fuoco: l\u2019 oceano stesso cui fan\ncorona i vasti flutti, veggendo costui, tutto si turba e si commuove.\nStretto dalla forza di costui e ridotto allo stremo dovette Vaisravano\nabbandonare Lanc\u00e2. Da questo R\u00e2vano, terror del mondo, tu ne proteggi, O\nalmo Nume: degna, O dator d\u2019ogni bene, trovar modo ad estirpar costui.\nFatto di queste cose conscio dai Devi, stette alquanto meditando, poi\nrispose Brahma: Ors\u00f9! \u00e8 stabilito il modo onde distruggere questo iniquo.\nEgli a me chiese, ed io gliel concessi, di non poter essere ucciso dai\nDevi, dai Risci, dai Gandharvi, dai Yacsi, dai Racsasi n\u00e8 dai Serpenti; ma\nper disprezzo non fece menzione degli uomini quel Racso: or bene, sar\u00e0\nquell\u2019 empio ucciso da un uomo. Udite le fauste parole profferte da\nBrahma, furono per ogni parte liete gli Iddii col loro duce Indra. In\nquesto mezzo qu\u00ec sopravvenne raggiante d\u2019immensa luce il venerando Visnu,\npensato da Brahma nell\u2019 immortal sua mente, siccome atto ad estirpar\ncolui; Allora Brahma colla schiera de\u2019 Celesti cos\u00ec parl\u00f2 a Visnu: Tu sei\nil conforto delle gente oppresse, O distruttor di Madhu: noi quindi a te\nsupplichiamo afflitti: sia tu nostro sostegno, O Aciuto. Dite, loro\nrispose Visnu, quale cosa io debba far per voi; e gli Dei, udite queste\nparole, cosi soggiunsero: Un re per nome Dasaratha, giusto, virtuoso,\nveridico e pio, non ha progenie e la desidera: ei gi\u00e0 s\u2019 impose durissime\npenitenze, ed ora ha sacrificato con un Asvamedha: tu, per nostro\nconsiglio, O Visnu, consenti a divenir suo figlio: fatte di te quattro\nparti, ti manifesta, O invocato dalle genti, nel seno delle quattro sue\nconsorti, simili alla venusta Dea. Cos\u00ec esortato dagli Dei quivi presenti,\nl\u2019augusto N\u00e2r\u00e2yana loro rispose queste opportune parole: Quale opra s\u2019ha\nda me, fatto visible nel mondo, a compiere per voi, O Devi? e d\u2019onde in\nvoi cotal terrore? Intese le parole di Visnu, cos\u00ec risposero gli Dei: Il\nnostro terrore. O Visnu, nasce da un Racsaso per nome R\u00e2vano, spavento\ndell\u2019 universo. Vestendo umano corpo, tu debbi esterminar costui. Nessuno\nfra i Celesti, fuorch\u00e8 tu solo, \u00e8 valevole ad uccidere quell\u2019 iniquo.\nEgli, O domator de\u2019 tuoi nemici, sostenne per lungo tempo acerbissime\nmacerazioni: per esse fu di lui contento l\u2019augusto sommo Genitore: e un di\ngli accord\u00f2 propizio la sicurezza da tutti gli esseri, eccettutine gli\nuomini. Per questo favore a lui concesso nou ha egli a temere offesa da\nalcuna parte, fuorch\u00e8 dall\u2019 uomo, perci\u00f2, assumendo la natura umana,\ncostui tu uccidi. Egli, il peggior di tutti i Racsasi, insano per la forza\nche gli infonde il dono avuto, da travaglio ai Devi ed ai Gaudharvi, ai\nRisci, ai Muni ed ai mortali. Egli, sicuro da morte pel favore ottenuto, \u00e8\nturbatore dei sacrifizj, nemico ed uccisor dei Brahmi, divoratore degli\nuomini, peste del mondo. Da lui furono assaliti re coi loro carri ed\nelefanti; altri percessi e fugati si dispersero per ogni dove. Da lui\nfurono divorati Risci ed Apsarase: egli insomma oltracotato continuamente\ne quasi per ischerzo tutti travaglia i sette mondi. Perci\u00f2, O terribile ai\nnemici \u00e8 stabilita la morte di costui per opra d\u2019un uomo; poich\u2019 un di per\nsuperbia del dono tutti sprezz\u00f2 gli uomini. Tu, O supremo fra i Numi, dei,\numanandoti, estirpare questo tremendo, superbo R\u00e0vano, oltracotato, a noi\nnemico, terrore e flagello dei penitenti.\n\nGORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nXIV.\n\n\nDe nouveau Rishya\u00e7ringa tint ce langage au Monarque: \u201cJe vais c\u00e9l\u00e9brer un\nautre sacrifice, afin que le ciel accorde \u00e0 tes v\u0153ux les enfants que tu\nsouhaites.\u201d Cela dit, cherchant le bonheur du roi et pour\nl\u2019accomplissement de son d\u00e9sir, le fils puissant de Vibh\u00e1ndaka se mit \u00e0\nc\u00e9l\u00e9brer ce nouveau sacrifice.\n\nL\u00e0 auparavant, \u00e9taient venus d\u00e9j\u00e0 recevoir une part de l\u2019 offrande les\nDieux, accompagn\u00e9s des Gaudharvas, et les Siddhas avec les Mounis divins,\nBrahma, le monarque des Souras, l\u2019 immuable \u015aiva, et l\u2019 auguste N\u00e1r\u00e1yana,\net les quatre gardiens vigilants du monde, et les m\u00e8res des Immortels, et\ntous les Dieux, escort\u00e9s des Yakshas, et le ma\u00eetre \u00e9minent du ciel, Indra,\nqui se manifestait aux yeux, environn\u00e9 par l\u2019 essaim des Maroutes. Alors\nce jeune anachor\u00e8te avait suppli\u00e9 tous les Dieux, que le d\u00e9sir d\u2019une part\ndans l\u2019 offrande avait conduits \u00e1 l\u2019 a\u00e7wam\u00e9dha, cette grande c\u00e9r\u00e9monie de\nce roi magnanime; _et, dans ce moment, l\u2019 \u00e9poux de \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 les conjurait\nainsi pour la seconde fois_: \u201cCet homme _en pri\u00e8res_, c\u2019est le roi\nDa\u00e7aratha, qui est priv\u00e9 de fils. Il est rempli d\u2019 une foi vive; il s\u2019est\ninflig\u00e9 de p\u00e9nibles aust\u00e9rit\u00e9s; il vous a d\u00e9j\u00e0 servi, divinit\u00e9s augustes,\nle sacrifice d\u2019un a\u00e7wa-m\u00e9dha, et maintenant il s\u2019\u00e9tudie encore \u00e0 vous\nplaire avec ce nouveau sacrifice dans l\u2019esp\u00e9rance que vous lui donnerez\nles fils, o\u00f9 tendent ses d\u00e9sirs. Versez donc sur lui votre bienveillance\net daignez sourire \u00e0 son v\u0153u pour des fils. C\u2019est pour lui que moi ici,\nles mains jointes, je vous adresse \u00e0 tous mes supplications: envoyez-lui\nquatre fils, qui soient vant\u00e9s dans les trois mondes!\u201d\n\n\u201cOu\u00ed! r\u00e9pondirent les Dieux au fils suppliant du rishi; tu m\u00e9rites que\nnous t\u2019\u00e9coutions avec faveur, toi, brahme saint, et m\u00eame, en premier lieu,\nce roi. Comme r\u00e9compense de ces diff\u00e9rents sacrifices, le monarque\nobtendra cet objet le plus cher de ses d\u00e9sirs.\u201d\n\nAyant aussi parl\u00e9 et vu que le grand saint avait mis fin suivant les rites\n\u00e0 son _pieux_ sacrifice, les Dieux, Indra \u00e0 leur t\u00eate, s\u2019\u00e9vanouissent dans\nle vide des airs et se rendent vers l\u2019 architecte des mondes, le souverain\ndes cr\u00e9atures, le donateur des biens, vers Brahma enfin, auquel tous, les\nmains jointes, ils adressent les paroles suivantes: \u201cO Brahma, un\nrakshasa, nomm\u00e9 R\u00e2vana, tourne su mal les gr\u00e2ces, qu\u2019il a re\u00e7ues de toi.\nDans son orgueil, il nous opprime tous; il opprime avec nous les grands\nanchor\u00e8tes, qui se font un bonheur des mac\u00e9rations: car jadis, ayant su te\nplaire, O Bhagavat, il a re\u00e7u de toi ce don incomparable. \u2018Oui, as-tu dit,\nexau\u00e7ant le v\u0153u du mauvais G\u00e9nie; Dieu. Yaksha ou D\u00e9mon ne pourra jamais\ncauser ta mort!\u2019 Et nous, par qui ta parole est respect\u00e9e, nous avons tout\nsupport\u00e9 de ce roi des rakshasas, qui \u00e9crase de sa tyrannie les trois\nmondes, ou il prom\u00e8ne l\u2019 injure impun\u00e9ment. Enorgueilli de ce don\nvictorieux, il opprime indignement les Dieux, les rishis, les Yakshas, les\nGandharvas, les Asouras et les enfants de Manou. L\u00e0 ou se tient R\u00e2vana, la\npeur emp\u00eache le soleil d\u2019\u00e9chauffer, le vent craint de souffler, et le feu\nn\u2019ose flamboyer. A son aspect, la guirlande m\u00eame des grands flots tremble\nau sein de la mer. Accabl\u00e9 par sa vigueur indomptable, Kouv\u00e9ra d\u00e9fait lui\na c\u00e9d\u00e9 Lank\u00e1. Suave-nous donc, \u00f4 toi, qui reposes daus le bonheur absolu;\nsauve-nous de R\u00e2vana, le fl\u00e9au des mondes. Daigne, \u00f4 toi, qui souris aux\nv\u0153ux du suppliant, daigne imaginer un expedient pour \u00f4ter la vie \u00e0 ce\ncruel D\u00e9mon.\u201d Les Dieux ayant ainsi d\u00e9nonc\u00e9 leurs maux \u00e0 Brahma, il\nr\u00e9fl\u00e9chit un instant et leur tint ce langage: \u201cBien, voici que j\u2019ai\nd\u00e9couvert un moyen pour tuer ce G\u00e9nie sc\u00e9l\u00e9rat. Que ni les Dieux, a-t-il\ndit, ni les rishis, ni les Gandharvas ni les Yakshas, ni les rakshasas, ni\nles N\u00e1gas m\u00eame ne puissent me donner la mort! Soit lui ai-je r\u00e9pondu.\nMais, par d\u00e9dain pour la force humaine, les hommes n\u2019ont pas \u00e9t\u00e9 compris\ndaus sa demande. C\u2019est donc par la main d\u2019 un homme, qu\u2019il faut immoler ce\nm\u00e9chant.\u201d Ainsi tomb\u00e9e de la bouche du cr\u00e9ateur, cette parole salutaire\nsatisfit pleinement le roi des habitants du ciel et tous les Dieux avec\nlui. L\u00e1, dans ce m\u00eame instant, survint le fortun\u00e9 Visnou, rev\u00eatu d\u2019 une\nsplendeur infinie; car c\u2019\u00e9tait a lui, que Brahma avait pens\u00e9 dans son \u00e2me\npour la mort du tyran. Celui-ci donc avec l\u2019essaim des Immortels adresse \u00e0\nVishnou ces paroles: \u201cMeurtrier de Madhou, comme tu aimes \u00e1 tirer de\nl\u2019affliction les \u00eatres malheureux, nous te supplions, nous qui sommes\nplong\u00e9s dans la tristesse, Divinit\u00e9 auguste, sois notre asyle!\u201d \u201cDites!\nreprit Vishnou; que dois-je faire?\u201d \u201cAyant oui les paroles de l\u2019ineffable,\ntous les Dieux repondirent: Il est un roi nomm\u00e9 Da\u00e7aratha; il a embrass\u00e9\nune tr\u00e8s-dur\u00e9 p\u00e9nitence; il a c\u00e9l\u00e9br\u00e9 m\u00eame le sacrifice d\u2019un a\u00e7wa-medha,\nparce qu\u2019il n\u2019a point de fils et qu\u2019il veut en obtenir du ciel. Il est\nin\u00e9branlable dans sa pi\u00e9t\u00e9, il est vant\u00e9 pour ses vertus; la justice est\nson caract\u00e8re, la verite est sa parole. Acquiesce donc \u00e0 notre demande, \u00f4\ntoi, Vishnou, et consens \u00e0 na\u00eetre comme son fils. Divis\u00e9 en quatre\nportions de toi-m\u00eame, daigne, \u00f4 toi, qui foules aux pieds tes ennemis,\ndaigne t\u2019 incarner dans le sein de ses trois \u00e9pouses, belles comme la\nd\u00e9esse de la beaut\u00e9.\u201d N\u00e1r\u00e1yana, le ma\u00eetre, _non perceptible aux sens, mais\nqui alors s\u2019 \u00e9tait rendu_ visible, N\u00e1r\u00e1yana r\u00e9pondit cette parole\nsalutaire aux Dieux, qui i invitaient \u00e0 cet _heroique avat\u00e1ra_. Quelle\nchose, une fois rev\u00eatu de cette incarnation, faudra-t-il encore que je\nfasse pour vous, et de quelle part vient la terreur, qui vous trouble\nainsi? A ces mots du grand Vishnou: \u201cC\u2019est le d\u00e9mon R\u00e1vana, reprirent les\nDieux; c\u2019est lui, Vishnou, cette d\u00e9solation des mondes, qui nous inspire\nun tel effroi. Enveloppe-toi d\u2019un corps, humain, et qu\u2019il te plaise\narr\u00e2cher du monde cette blessante epine; car nul autre que toi parmi les\nhabitants du ciel n\u2019est capable d\u2019immoler ce p\u00e9cheur. _Sache que_\nlongtemps il s\u2019est impos\u00e9 la plus aust\u00e9re p\u00e9nitence, et _que_ par elle il\ns\u2019est rendu agreable au supr\u00eame ayeul de toutes les cr\u00e9atures. Aussi le\ndistributeur ineffable des gr\u00e0ces lui a-t-il accord\u00e9 ce don insigne d\u2019\u00eatre\ninvuln\u00e9rable \u00e0 tous les \u00eatres, l\u2019 homme seul except\u00e9. Puisque, dou\u00e9 ainsi\nde cette faveur, la mort terrible et s\u00fbre ne peut venir \u00e0 lui de nulle\nautre part que de l\u2019homme, va, dompteur _puissant_ de tes ennemis, va dans\nla condition humaine, et tue-le. Car ce don, auquel on ne peut r\u00e9sister,\n\u00e9levant au plus haut point l\u2019ivresse de sa force, le vil rakshasa\ntourmente les Dieux, les rishis, les Gandharvas, les hommes sanctifi\u00e9s par\nla p\u00e9nitence; et, quoique, destructeur des sacrifices, lac\u00e9rateur des\nSaintes Ecritures, ennemi des brahmes, d\u00e9vorateur des hommes, cette faveur\nincomparable sauve de la mort R\u00e1vana le triste fl\u00e9au des mondes. Il ose\nattaquer les rois, que d\u00e9fendant les chars de guerre, que remparent les\n\u00e9lephants: d\u2019autres bless\u00e9s et mis en fuite, sont dissip\u00e9s \u00e7a et l\u00e0 devant\nlui. Il a d\u00e9vor\u00e9 des saints, il a d\u00e9vor\u00e9 m\u00eame une foule d\u2019apsaras. Sans\ncesse, dans son d\u00e9lire, il s\u2019amuse \u00e0 tourmenter les sept mondes. Comme _on\nvient de nous apprendre qu\u2019_ il n\u2019a point daign\u00e9 parler d\u2019eux ce jour, que\nlui fut donn\u00e9e cette faveur, _dont il abuse_, entre dans un corps humain,\n\u00f4 toi, qui peux briser tes ennemis, et jette sans vie \u00e0 tes pieds, roi\npuissant des treize Dieux, ce R\u00e1vana superbe, d\u2019une force \u00e9pouvantable,\nd\u2019un orgueil immense, l\u2019ennemi de tous les asc\u00e8tes, ce ver, _qui les\nronge_, cette cause de leurs g\u00e9missements.\u201d\n\n_Ici, dans le premier tome du saint R\u00e2m\u00e2yana_, Finit le quatorzi\u00e8me\nchapitre, nomm\u00e9: UN EXP\u00c9DIENT POUR TUER R\u00c1VANA.\n\nHIPPOLYTE FAUCHE.\n\n\n\n\nUttarak\u00e1nda.\n\n\nThe R\u00e1m\u00e1yan ends, epically complete, with the triumphant return of R\u00e1ma\nand his rescued queen to Ayodhy\u00e1 and his consecration and coronation in\nthe capital of his forefathers. Even if the story were not complete, the\nconclusion of the last Canto of the sixth Book, evidently the work of a\nlater hand than V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s, which speaks of R\u00e1ma\u2019s glorious and happy reign\nand promises blessings to those who read and hear the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, would be\nsufficient to show that, when these verses were added, the poem was\nconsidered to be finished. The Uttarak\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da or Last Book is merely an\nappendix or a supplement and relates only events antecedent and subsequent\nto those described in the original poem. Indian scholars however, led by\nreverential love of tradition, unanimously ascribe this Last Book to\nV\u00e1lm\u00edki, and regard it as part of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan.\n\nSignor Gorresio has published an excellent translation of the Uttarak\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da,\nin Italian prose, from the recension current in Bengal;(1030) and Mr. Muir\nhas epitomized a portion of the book in the Appendix to the Fourth Part of\nhis Sanskrit Texts (1862). From these scholars I borrow freely in the\nfollowing pages, and give them my hearty thanks for saving me much\nwearisome labour.\n\n\u201cAfter R\u00e1ma had returned to Ayodhy\u00e1 and taken possession of the throne,\nthe rishis [saints] assembled to greet him, and Agastya, in answer to his\nquestions recounted many particulars regarding his old enemies. In the\nKrita Yuga (or Golden Age) the austere and pious Brahman rishi Pulastya, a\nson of Brahm\u00e1, being teased with the visits of different damsels,\nproclaimed that any one of them whom he again saw near his hermitage\nshould become pregnant. This had not been heard by the daughter of the\nroyal rishi Tri\u1e47avindu, who one day came into Pulastya\u2019s neighbourhood,\nand her pregnancy was the result (Sect. 2, vv. 14 ff.). After her return\nhome, her father, seeing her condition, took her to Pulastya, who accepted\nher as his wife, and she bore a son who received the name of Vi\u015bravas.\nThis son was, like his father, an austere and religious sage. He married\nthe daughter of the muni Bharadv\u00e1ja, who bore him a son to whom Brahm\u00e1\ngave the name of Vai\u015brava\u1e47-Kuvera (Sect. 3, vv. 1 ff.). He performed\nausterities for thousands of years, when he obtained from Brahm\u00e1 as a boon\nthat he should be one of the guardians of the world (along with Indra,\nVaru\u1e47a, and Y\u00e1ma) and the god of riches. He afterwards consulted his\nfather Vi\u015bravas about an abode, and at his suggestion took possession of\nthe city of Lank\u00e1, which had formerly been built by Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1n for the\nR\u00e1kshasas, but had been abandoned by them through fear of Vish\u1e47u, and was\nat that time unoccupied. R\u00e1ma then (Sect. 4) says he is surprised to hear\nthat Lank\u00e1 had formerly belonged to the R\u00e1kshasas, as he had always\nunderstood that they were the descendants of Pulastya, and now he learns\nthat they had also another origin. He therefore asks who was their\nancestor, and what fault they had committed that they were chased away by\nVish\u1e47u. Agastya replies that when Brahm\u00e1 created the waters, he formed\ncertain beings,\u2014some of whom received the name of R\u00e1kshasas,\u2014to guard\nthem. The first R\u00e1kshasas kings were Heti and Praheti. Heti married a\nsister of K\u00e1la (Time). She bore him a son Vidyutke\u015ba, who in his turn took\nfor his wife Lankatanka[t.]\u00e1, the daughter of Sandhy\u00e1 (V. 21). She bore\nhim a son Suke\u015ba, whom she abandoned, but he was seen by \u015aiva as he was\npassing by with his wife P\u00e1rvat\u00ed, who made the child as old as his mother,\nand immortal, and gave him a celestial city. Suke\u015ba married a Gandharv\u00ed\ncalled Devavat\u00ed who bore three sons, M\u00e1lyavat, Sum\u00e1li and M\u00e1li. These sons\npractised intense austerities, when Brahm\u00e1 appeared and conferred on them\ninvincibility and long life. They then harassed the gods. Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1 gave\nthem a city, Lank\u00e1, on the mountain Trik\u00fa\u1e6da, on the shore of the southern\nocean, which he had built at the command of Indra.\u2026 The three R\u00e1kshasa,\nM\u00e1lyavat and his two brothers, then began to oppress the gods, rishis,\netc.; who (Sect. 6, v. 1 ff.) in consequence resort for aid to Mah\u00e1deva,\nwho having regard to his prot\u00e9g\u00e9 Suke\u015ba the father of M\u00e1lyavat, says that\nhe cannot kill the R\u00e1kshasas, but advises the suppliants to go to Vish\u1e47u,\nwhich they do, and receive from him a promise that he will destroy their\nenemies. The three R\u00e1kshasa kings, hearing of this, consult together, and\nproceed to heaven to attack the gods. Vish\u1e47u prepares to meet them. The\nbattle is described in the seventh section. The R\u00e1kshasas are defeated by\nVish\u1e47u with great slaughter, and driven back to Lank\u00e1, one of their\nleaders, M\u00e1li, being slain. M\u00e1lyavat remonstrates with Vish\u1e47u, who was\nassaulting the rear of the fugitives, for his unwarrior-like conduct, and\nwishes to renew the combat (Sect. 8, v. 3 ff.). Vish\u1e47u replies that he\nmust fulfil his promise to the gods by slaying the R\u00e1kshasas, and that he\nwould destroy them even if they fled to P\u00e1t\u00e1la. These R\u00e1kshasas, Agastya\nsays, were more powerful than R\u00e1va\u1e47a, and, could only be destroyed by\nN\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47a, _i.e._ by R\u00e1ma himself, the eternal, indestructible god. Sum\u00e1li\nwith his family lived for along time in P\u00e1t\u00e1la, while Kuvera dwelt in\nLank\u00e1. In section 9 it is related that Sum\u00e1li once happened to visit the\nearth, when he observed Kuvera going in his chariot to see his father\nVi\u015bravas. This leads him to consider how he might restore his own\nfortunes. He consequently desires his daughter Kaikas\u00ed to go and woo\nVi\u015bravas, who receives her graciously. She becomes the mother of the\ndreadful R\u00e1va\u1e47a, of the huge Kumbhakar\u1e47a, of \u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1, and of the\nrighteous Vibhisha\u1e47a, who was the last son. These children grow up in the\nforest. Kumbhakar\u1e47a goes about eating rishis. Kuvera comes to visit his\nfather, when Kaikas\u00ed takes occasion to urge her son R\u00e1va\u1e47a to strive to\nbecome like his brother (Kuvera) in splendour. This R\u00e1va\u1e47a promises to do.\nHe then goes to the hermitage of Gokarna with his brothers to perform\nausterity. In section 10 their austere observances are described: after a\nthousand years\u2019 penance R\u00e1va\u1e47a throws his head into the fire. He repeats\nthis oblation nine times after equal intervals, and is about to do it the\ntenth time, when Brahm\u00e1 appears, and offers a boon. R\u00e1va\u1e47a asks\nimmortality, but is refused. He then asks that he may be indestructible by\nall creatures more powerful than men; which boon is accorded by Brahm\u00e1\ntogether with the recovery of all the heads he had sacrificed and the\npower of assuming any shape he pleased. Vibhisha\u1e47a asks as his boon that\neven amid the greatest calamities he may think only of righteousness, and\nthat the weapon of Brahm\u00e1 may appear to him unlearnt, etc. The god grants\nhis request, and adds the gift of immortality. When Brahm\u00e1 is about to\noffer a boon to Kumbhakar\u1e47a, the gods interpose, as, they say, he had\neaten seven Apsarases and ten followers of Indra, besides rishis and men;\nand beg that under the guise of a boon stupefaction may be inflicted on\nhim. Brahm\u00e1 thinks on Sarasvat\u00ed, who arrives and, by Brahm\u00e1\u2019s command,\nenters into Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s mouth that she may speak for him. Under this\ninfluence he asks that he may receive the boon of sleeping for many years,\nwhich is granted. When however Sarasvat\u00ed has left him, and he recovers his\nown consciousness, he perceives that he has been deluded. Kuvera by his\nfather\u2019s advice, gives up the city of Lank\u00e1 to R\u00e1va\u1e47.\u201d(1031) R\u00e1va\u1e47a\nmarries (Sect. 12) Mandodar\u00ed the beautiful daughter of the Asur Maya whose\nname has several times occurred in the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan as that of an artist of\nwonderful skill. She bears a son Meghan\u00e1da or the Roaring Cloud who was\nafterwards named Indraj\u00edt from his victory over the sovereign of the\nskies. The conquest of Kuvera, and the acquisition of the magic\nself-moving chariot which has done much service in the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, form the\nsubject of sections XIII., XIV. and XV. \u201cThe rather pretty story of\nVedavat\u00ed is related in the seventeenth section, as follows: R\u00e1va\u1e47a in the\ncourse of his progress through the world, comes to the forest on the\nHim\u00e1laya, where he sees a damsel of brilliant beauty, but in ascetic garb,\nof whom he straightway becomes enamoured. He tells her that such an\naustere life is unsuited to her youth and attractions, and asks who she is\nand why she is leading an ascetic existence. She answers that she is\ncalled Vedavat\u00ed, and is the vocal daughter of V\u1e5bihaspati\u2019s son, the rishi\nKu\u015badhwaja, sprung from him during his constant study of the Veda. The\ngods, gandharvas, etc., she says, wished that she should choose a husband,\nbut her father would give her to no one else than to Vish\u1e47u, the lord of\nthe world, whom he desired for his son-in-law. Vedavat\u00ed then proceeds: \u2018In\norder that I may fulfil this desire of my father in respect of N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47a, I\nwed him with my heart. Having entered into this engagement I practise\ngreat austerity. N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47a and no other than he, Purushottama, is my\nhusband. From the desire of obtaining him, I resort to this severe\nobservance.\u2019 R\u00e1va\u1e47a\u2019s passion is not in the least diminished by this\nexplanation and he urges that it is the old alone who should seek to\nbecome distinguished by accumulating merit through austerity, prays that\nshe who is so young and beautiful shall become his bride; and boasts that\nhe is superior to Vish\u1e47u. She rejoins that no one but he would thus\ncontemn that deity. On receiving this reply he touches the hair of her\nhead with the tip of his finger. She is greatly incensed, and forthwith\ncuts off her hair and tells him that as he has so insulted her, she cannot\ncontinue to live, but will enter into the fire before his eyes. She goes\non \u2018Since I have been insulted in the forest by thee who art\nwicked-hearted, I shall be born again for thy destruction. For a man of\nevil desire cannot be slain by a woman; and the merit of my austerity\nwould be lost if I were to launch a curse against thee. But if I have\nperformed or bestowed or sacrificed aught may I be born the virtuous\ndaughter, not produced from the womb, of a righteous man.\u2019 Having thus\nspoken she entered the blazing fire. Then a shower of celestial flowers\nfell (from every part of the sky). It is she, lord, who, having been\nVedavat\u00ed in the Krita age, has been born (in the Treta age) as the\ndaughter of the king of the Janakas, and (has become) thy [R\u00e1ma\u2019s] bride;\nfor thou art the eternal Vish\u1e47u. The mountain-like enemy who was\n[virtually] destroyed before by her wrath, has now been slain by her\nhaving recourse to thy superhuman energy.\u201d On this the commentator\nremarks: \u201cBy this it is signified that S\u00edt\u00e1 was the principal cause of\nR\u00e1va\u1e47a\u2019s death; but the function of destroying him is ascribed to R\u00e1ma.\u201d\nOn the words, \u201cthou art Vish\u1e47u,\u201d in the preceding verse the same\ncommentator remarks: \u201cBy this it is clearly affirmed that S\u00edt\u00e1 was\nLakshm\u00ed.\u201d This is what Par\u00e1\u015bara says: \u201cIn the god\u2019s life as R\u00e1ma, she\nbecame S\u00edt\u00e1, and in his birth as Krish\u1e47a [she became] Rukmin\u00ed.\u201d(1032)\n\nIn the following section (XVIII.) \u201cR\u00e1va\u1e47a is described as violently\ninterrupting a sacrifice which is being performed by king Marutta, and the\nassembled gods in terror assume different shapes to escape; Indra becomes\na peacock, Y\u00e1ma a crow, Kuvera a lizard, and Varu\u1e47a a swan; and each deity\nbestows a boon on the animal he had chosen. The peacock\u2019s tail recalls\nIndra\u2019s thousand eyes; the swan\u2019s colour becomes white, like the foam of\nthe ocean (Varu\u1e47a being its lord); the lizard obtains a golden colour; and\nthe crow is never to die except when killed by a violent death, and the\ndead are to enjoy the funeral oblations when they have been devoured by\nthe crows.\u201d(1033)\n\nR\u00e1va\u1e47 then attacks Arjuna or K\u00e1rttav\u00edrya the mighty king of M\u00e1hishmati on\nthe banks of the Narmad\u00e1, and is defeated, captured and imprisoned by\nArjuna. At the intercession of Pulastya (Sect. XXII.) he is released from\nhis bonds. He then visits Kishkindh\u00e1 where he enters into alliance with\nB\u00e1li the King of the V\u00e1nars: \u201cWe will have all things in common,\u201d says\nR\u00e1va\u1e47, \u201cdames, sons, cities and kingdoms, food, vesture, and all\ndelights.\u201d His next exploit is the invasion of the kingdom of departed\nspirits and his terrific battle with the sovereign Y\u00e1ma. The poet in his\ndescription of these regions with the detested river with waves of blood,\nthe dire lamentations, the cries for a drop of water, the devouring worm,\nall the tortures of the guilty and the somewhat insipid pleasures of the\njust, reminds one of the scenes in the under world so vividly described by\nHomer, Virgil, and Dante. Y\u00e1ma is defeated (Sect. XXVI.) by the giant, not\nso much by his superior power as because at the request of Brahm\u00e1 Y\u00e1ma\nrefrains from smiting with his deadly weapon the R\u00e1kshas enemy to whom\nthat God had once given the promise that preserved him. In the\ntwenty-seventh section R\u00e1va\u1e47 goes \u201cunder the earth into P\u00e1t\u00e1la the\ntreasure-house of the waters inhabited by swarms of serpents and Daityas,\nand well defended by Varu\u1e47.\u201d He subdues Bhogavat\u00ed the city ruled by V\u00e1suki\nand reduces the N\u00e1gas or serpents to subjection. He penetrates even to the\nimperial seat of Varu\u1e47. The God himself is absent, but his sons come forth\nand do battle with the invader. The giant is victorious and departs\ntriumphant. The twenty-eighth section gives the details of a terrific\nbattle between R\u00e1va\u1e47 and M\u00e1ndh\u00e1t\u00e1 King of Ayodhy\u00e1, a distinguished\nancestor of R\u00e1ma. Supernatural weapons are employed on both sides and the\nissue of the conflict is long doubtful. But at last M\u00e1ndh\u00e1t\u00e1 prepares to\nuse the mighty weapon \u201cacquired by severe austerities through the grace\nand favour of Rudra.\u201d The giant would inevitably have been slain. But two\npre-eminent Munis Pulastya and G\u00e1lava beheld the fight through the power\ngiven by contemplation, and with words of exhortation they parted King\nM\u00e1ndh\u00e1t\u00e1 and the sovereign of the R\u00e1kshases. R\u00e1va\u1e47 at last (Sect. XXXII.)\nreturns homeward carrying with him in his car Pushpak the virgin daughters\nof kings, of Rishis, of Daityas, and Gandharvas whom he has seized upon\nhis way. The thirty-sixth section describes a battle with Indra, in which\nthe victorious Meghan\u00e1da son of the giant, makes the King of the Gods his\nprisoner, binds him with his magic art, and carries him away (Sect.\nXXVII.) in triumph to Lank\u00e1. Brahm\u00e1 intercedes (Sect. XXXVIII.) and\nIndraj\u00edt releases his prisoner on obtaining in return the boon that\nsacrifice to the Lord of Fire shall always make him invincible in the\ncoming battle. In sections XXXIX., XL, \u201cwe have a legend related to R\u00e1ma\nby the sage Agastya to account for the stupendous strength of the monkey\nHanum\u00e1n, as it had been described in the _R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a_. Rama naturally\nwonders (as perhaps many readers of the _R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a_ have done since) why a\nmonkey of such marvellous power and prowess had not easily overcome B\u00e1li\nand secured the throne for his friend Sugr\u00edva. Agastya replies that\nHanum\u00e1n was at that time under a curse from a Rishi, and consequently was\nnot conscious of his own might.\u201d(1034) The whole story of the marvellous\nV\u00e1nar is here given at length, but nothing else of importance is added to\nthe tale already given in the R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a. The Rishis or saints then (Sect.\nXL.) return to their celestial seats, and the V\u00e1nars, R\u00e1kshases and bears\nalso (Sect. XLIII.) take their departure. The chariot Pushpak is restored\nto its original owner Kuvera, as has already been related in the R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47.\n\nThe story of R\u00e1ma and S\u00edt\u00e1 is then continued, and we meet with matter of\nmore human interest. The winter is past and the pleasant spring-time is\ncome, and R\u00e1ma and S\u00edt\u00e1 sit together in the shade of the A\u015boka trees happy\nas Indra and \u015aach\u00ed when they drink in Paradise the nectar of the Gods.\n\u201cTell me, my beloved,\u201d says R\u00e1ma, \u201cfor thou wilt soon be a mother, hast\nthou a wish in thy heart for me to gratify?\u201d And S\u00edt\u00e1 smiles and answers:\n\u201cI long, O son of Raghu, to visit the pure and holy hermitages on the\nbanks of the Ganges and to venerate the feet of the saints who there\nperform their rigid austerities and live on roots and berries. This is my\nchief desire, to stand within the hermits\u2019 grove were it but for a single\nday.\u201d And R\u00e1ma said: \u201cLet not the thought trouble thee: thou shalt go to\nthe grove of the ascetics.\u201d But slanderous tongues have been busy in\nAyodhy\u00e1, and S\u00edt\u00e1 has not been spared. R\u00e1ma hears that the people are\nlamenting his blind folly in taking back to his bosom the wife who was so\nlong a captive in the palace of R\u00e1va\u1e47. R\u00e1ma well knows her spotless purity\nin thought, word, and deed, and her perfect love of him; but he cannot\nendure the mockery and the shame and resolves to abandon his unsuspecting\nwife. He orders the sad but still obedient Lakshma\u1e47 to convey her to the\nhermitage which she wishes to visit and to leave her there, for he will\nsee her face again no more. They arrive at the hermitage, and Lakshma\u1e47\ntells her all. She falls fainting on the ground, and when she recovers her\nconsciousness sheds some natural tears and bewails her cruel and\nundeserved lot. But she resolves to live for the sake of R\u00e1ma and her\nunborn son, and she sends by Lakshma\u1e47 a dignified message to the husband\nwho has forsaken her: \u201cI grieve not for myself,\u201d she says \u201cbecause I have\nbeen abandoned on account of what the people say, and not for any evil\nthat I have done. The husband is the God of the wife, the husband is her\nlord and guide; and what seems good unto him she should do even at the\ncost of her life.\u201d\n\nS\u00edt\u00e1 is honourably received by the saint V\u00e1lm\u00edki himself, and the holy\nwomen of the hermitage are charged to entertain and serve her. In this\ncalm retreat she gives birth to two boys who receive the names of Ku\u015ba and\nLava. They are carefully brought up and are taught by V\u00e1lm\u00edki himself to\nrecite the R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47. The years pass by: and R\u00e1ma at length determines to\ncelebrate the A\u015bvamedha or Sacrifice of the Steed. V\u00e1lm\u00edki, with his two\nyoung pupils, attends the ceremony, and the unknown princes recite before\nthe delighted father the poem which recounts his deeds. R\u00e1ma inquires into\ntheir history and recognizes them as his sons. S\u00edt\u00e1 is invited to return\nand solemnly affirm her innocence before the great assembly.\n\n\u201cBut S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s heart was too full; this second ordeal was beyond even her\npower to submit to, and the poet rose above the ordinary Hindu level of\nwomen when he ventured to paint her conscious purity as rebelling:\n\u2018Beholding all the spectators, and clothed in red garments, S\u00edt\u00e1 clasping\nher hands and bending low her face, spoke thus in a voice choked with\ntears: \u201cas I, even in mind, have never thought of any other than R\u00e1ma, so\nmay M\u00e1dhav\u00ed the goddess of Earth, grant me a hiding-place.\u201d As S\u00edt\u00e1 made\nthis oath, lo! a marvel appeared. Suddenly cleaving the earth, a divine\nthrone of marvellous beauty rose up, borne by resplendent dragons on their\nheads: and seated on it, the goddess of Earth, raising S\u00edt\u00e1 with her arm,\nsaid to her, \u201cWelcome to thee!\u201d and placed her by her side. And as the\nqueen, seated on the throne, slowly descended to Hades, a continuous\nshower of flowers fell down from heaven on her head.\u2019(1035)\u201d\n\n\u201cBoth the great Hindu epics thus end in disappointment and sorrow. In the\n_Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata_ the five victorious brothers abandon the hardly won throne\nto die one by one in a forlorn pilgrimage to the Him\u00e1laya; and in the same\nway R\u00e1ma only regains his wife, after all his toils, to lose her. It is\nthe same in the later Homeric cycle\u2014the heroes of the _Iliad_ perish by\nill-fated deaths. And even Ulysses, after his return to Ithaca, sets sail\nagain to Thesprotia, and finally falls by the hand of his own son. But in\nIndia and Greece alike this is an afterthought of a self-conscious time,\nwhich has been subsequently added to cast a gloom on the strong\ncheerfulness of the heroic age.\u201d(1036)\n\n\u201cThe termination of R\u00e1ma\u2019s terrestrial career is thus told in Sections 116\nff. of the Uttarak\u00e1\u1e47da. Time, in the form of an ascetic, comes to his\npalace gate, and asks, as the messenger of the great rishi (Brahm\u00e1) to see\nR\u00e1ma. He is admitted and received with honour, but says, when he is asked\nwhat he has to communicate, that his message must be delivered in private,\nand that any one who witnesses the interview is to lose his life. R\u00e1ma\ninforms Lakshma\u1e47 of all this, and desires him to stand outside. Time then\ntells R\u00e1ma that he has been sent by Brahm\u00e1, to say that when he (R\u00e1ma,\n_i.e._ Vish\u1e47u) after destroying the worlds was sleeping on the ocean, he\nhad formed him (Brahm\u00e1) from the lotus springing from his navel, and\ncommitted to him the work of creation; that he (Brahm\u00e1) had then entreated\nR\u00e1ma to assume the function of Preserver, and that the latter had in\nconsequence become Vish\u1e47u, being born as the son of Aditi, and had\ndetermined to deliver mankind by destroying R\u00e1va\u1e47a, and to live on earth\nten thousand and ten hundred years; that period, adds Time, was now on the\neve of expiration, and R\u00e1ma could either at his pleasure prolong his stay\non earth, or ascend to heaven and rule over the gods. R\u00e1ma replies, that\nhe had been born for the good of the three worlds, and would now return to\nthe place whence he had come, as it was his function to fulfil the\npurposes of the gods. While they are speaking the irritable rishi Durv\u00e1sas\ncomes, and insists on seeing R\u00e1ma immediately, under a threat, if refused,\nof cursing R\u00e1ma and all his family.\u201d\n\nLakshma\u1e47, preferring to save his kinsman, though knowing that his own\ndeath must be the consequence of interrupting the interview of R\u00e1ma with\nTime, enters the palace and reports the rishi\u2019s message to R\u00e1ma. R\u00e1ma\ncomes out, and when Durv\u00e1sas has got the food he wished, and departed,\nR\u00e1ma reflects with great distress on the words of Time, which require that\nLakshma\u1e47 should die. Lakshma\u1e47 however exhorts R\u00e1ma not to grieve, but to\nabandon him and not break his own promise. The counsellors concurring in\nthis advice, R\u00e1ma abandons Lakshma\u1e47, who goes to the river Saray\u00fa,\nsuppresses all his senses, and is conveyed bodily by Indra to heaven. The\ngods are delighted by the arrival of the fourth part of Vish\u1e47u. R\u00e1ma then\nresolves to install Bharata as his successor and retire to the forest and\nfollow Lakshma\u1e47. Bharata however refuses the succession, and determines to\naccompany his brother. R\u00e1ma\u2019s subjects are filled with grief, and say they\nalso will follow him wherever he goes. Messengers are sent to \u015aatrughna,\nthe other brother, and he also resolves to accompany R\u00e1ma; who at length\nsets out in procession from his capital with all the ceremonial\nappropriate to the \u201cgreat departure,\u201d silent, indifferent to external\nobjects, joyless, with \u015ar\u00ed on his right, the goddess Earth on his left,\nEnergy in front, attended by all his weapons in human shapes, by the Vedas\nin the forms of Br\u00e1hmans, by the G\u00e1yatr\u00ed, the Omk\u00e1ra, the Vasha\u1e6dk\u00e1ra, by\nrishis, by his women, female slaves, eunuchs, and servants. Bharata with\nhis family, and \u015aatrughna, follow together with Br\u00e1hmans bearing the\nsacred fire, and the whole of the people of the country, and even with\nanimals, etc., etc. R\u00e1ma, with all these attendants, comes to the banks of\nthe Saray\u00fa. Brahm\u00e1, with all the gods and innumerable celestial cars, now\nappears, and all the sky is refulgent with the divine splendour. Pure and\nfragrant breezes blow, a shower of flowers falls. R\u00e1ma enters the waters\nof the Saray\u00fa; and Brahm\u00e1 utters a voice from the sky, saying: \u201cApproach,\nVish\u1e47u; R\u00e1ghava, thou hast happily arrived, with thy godlike brothers.\nEnter thine own body as Vish\u1e47u or the eternal ether. For thou art the\nabode of the worlds: no one comprehends thee, the inconceivable and\nimperishable, except the large-eyed M\u00e1y\u00e1 thy primeval spouse.\u201d Hearing\nthese words, R\u00e1ma enters the glory of Vish\u1e47u with his body and his\nfollowers. He then asks Brahm\u00e1 to find an abode for the people who had\naccompanied him from devotion to his person, and Brahm\u00e1 appoints them a\ncelestial residence accordingly.(1037)\n\n\n\n\n\nADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\n\n\n\nQueen Fortune.\n\n\n\u201cA curious festival is celebrated in honour of this divinity (Lakshm\u00ee) on\nthe fifth lunar day of the light half of the month M\u00e2gha (February), when\nshe is identified with Saraswat\u00ed the consort of Brahm\u00e1, and the goddess of\nlearning. In his treatise on festivals, a great modern authority,\nRaghunandana, mentions, on the faith of a work called\n_Samvatsara-sandipa_, that Lakshm\u00ee is to be worshipped in the forenoon of\nthat day with flowers, perfumes, rice, and water; that due honour is to be\npaid to inkstand and writing-reed, and no writing to be done. Wilson, in\nhis essay on the _Religious Festivals of the Hindus_ (works, vol. ii, p.\n188. ff.) adds that on the morning of the 2nd February, the whole of the\npens and inkstands, and the books, if not too numerous and bulky, are\ncollected, the pens or reeds cleaned, the inkstands scoured, and the books\nwrapped up in new cloth, are arranged upon a platform, or a sheet, and\nstrewn over with flowers and blades of young barley, and that no flowers\nexcept white are to be offered. After performing the necessary rites, \u2026\nall the members of the family assemble and make their prostrations; the\nbooks, the pens, and ink having an entire holiday; and should any\nemergency require a written communication on the day dedicated to the\ndivinity of scholarship, it is done with chalk or charcoal upon a black or\nwhite board.\u201d\n\nCHAMBERS\u2019S ENCYCLOP\u00c6DIA. _Lakshm\u00ee_.\n\n\n\n\nIndra.\n\n\n\u201cThe Hindu Jove or Jupiter Tonans, chief of the secondary deities. He\npresides over swarga or paradise, and is more particularly the god of the\natmosphere and winds. He is also regent of the east quarter of the sky. As\nchief of the deities he is called Devapati, Devadeva, Surapati, etc.; as\nlord of the atmosphere Divaspati; as lord of the eight Vasus or demigods,\nFire, etc., V\u00e1sava; as breaking cities into fragments, Purandara, Puranda;\nas lord of a hundred sacrifices (the performance of a hundred A\u015bvamedhas\nelevating the sacrificer to the rank of Indra) \u015aatakratu, \u015aatamakha; as\nhaving a thousand eyes, Sahasr\u00e1ksha; as husband of \u015aach\u00ed, \u015aach\u00edpati. His\nwife is called \u015aach\u00ed, Indr\u00e1\u1e47\u00ed, Sakr\u00e1\u1e47\u00ed, Maghoni, Indra\u015bakti, Pulomaj\u00e1, and\nPaulom\u00ed. His son is Jayanta. His pleasure garden or elysium is Nandana;\nhis city, Amar\u00e1vat\u00ed; his palace, Vaijayanta; his horse, Uchchaih\u015bravas,\nhis elephant, Air\u00e1vata; his charioteer, M\u00e1tali.\u201d\n\nPROFESSOR M. WILLIAMS\u2019S English-Sanskrit Dictionary. _Indra_.\n\n\n\n\nVishnu.\n\n\n\u201cThe second person of the Hindu triad, and the most celebrated and popular\nof all the Indian deities. He is the personification of the preserving\npower, and became incarnate in nine different forms, for the preservation\nof mankind in various emergencies. Before the creation of the universe,\nand after its temporary annihilation, he is supposed to sleep on the\nwaters, floating on the serpent \u015aesha, and is then identified with\nN\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47a. Brahm\u00e1, the creator, is fabled to spring at that time from a\nlotus which grows from his navel, whilst thus asleep.\u2026 His ten avat\u00e1rs or\nincarnations are:\n\n\u201c1. The Matsya, or fish. In this avat\u00e1r Vish\u1e47u descended in the form of a\nfish to save the pious king Satyavrata, who with the seven Rishis and\ntheir wives had taken refuge in the ark to escape the deluge which then\ndestroyed the earth. 2, The K\u00farma, or Tortoise. In this he descended in\nthe form of a tortoise, for the purpose of restoring to man some of the\ncomforts lost during the flood. To this end he stationed himself at the\nbottom of the ocean, and allowed the point of the great mountain Mandara\nto be placed upon his back, which served as a hard axis, whereon the gods\nand demons, with the serpent V\u00e1suki twisted round the mountain for a rope,\nchurned the waters for the recovery of the amrita or nectar, and fourteen\nother sacred things. 3. The Var\u00e1ha, or Boar. In this he descended in the\nform of a boar to rescue the earth from the power of a demon called\n\u2018golden-eyed,\u2019 Hira\u1e47y\u00e1ksha. This demon had seized on the earth and carried\nit with him into the depths of the ocean. Vish\u1e47u dived into the abyss, and\nafter a contest of a thousand years slew the monster. 4. The Narasinha, or\nMan-lion. In this monstrous shape of a creature half-man, half-lion,\nVish\u1e47u delivered the earth from the tyranny of an insolent demon called\nHira\u1e47yaka\u015bipu. 5. V\u00e1mana, or Dwarf. This avat\u00e1r happened in the second age\nof the Hind\u00fas or Tret\u00e1yug, the four preceding are said to have occurred in\nthe first or Satyayug; the object of this avat\u00e1r was to trick Bali out of\nthe dominion of the three worlds. Assuming the form of a wretched dwarf he\nappeared before the king and asked, as a boon, as much land as he could\npace in three steps. This was granted; and Vish\u1e47u immediately expanding\nhimself till he filled the world, deprived Bali at two steps of heaven and\nearth, but in consideration of some merit, left P\u00e1t\u00e1la still in his\ndominion. 6. Para\u015bur\u00e1ma. 7. R\u00e1mchandra. 8. Krish\u1e47a, or according to some\nBalar\u00e1ma. 9. Buddha. In this avat\u00e1r Vish\u1e47u descended in the form of a sage\nfor the purpose of making some reform in the religion of the Brahmins, and\nespecially to reclaim them from their proneness to animal sacrifice. Many\nof the Hind\u00fas will not allow this to have been an incarnation of their\nfavourite god. 10. Kalki, or White Horse. This is yet to come. Vish\u1e47u\nmounted on a white horse, with a drawn scimitar, blazing like a comet,\nwill, according to prophecy, end this present age, viz. the fourth or\nKaliyug, by destroying the world, and then renovating creation by an age\nof purity.\u201d\n\nWILLIAM\u2019S DICTIONARY. _Vish\u1e47u._\n\n\n\n\nSiva.\n\n\n\u201cA celebrated Hind\u00fa God, the Destroyer of creation, and therefore the most\nformidable of the Hind\u00fa Triad. He also personifies reproduction, since the\nHind\u00fa philosophy excludes the idea of total annihilation without\nsubsequent regeneration. Hence he is sometimes confounded with Brahm\u00e1, the\ncreator or first person of the Triad. He is the particular God of the\nT\u00e1ntrikas, or followers of the books called Tantras. His worshippers are\ntermed \u015aaivas, and although not so numerous as the Vaish\u1e47avas, exalt their\ngod to the highest place in the heavens, and combine in him many of the\nattributes which properly belong to the other deities. According to them\n\u015aiva is Time, Justice, Fire, Water, the Sun, the Destroyer and Creator. As\npresiding over generation, his type is the Linga, or Phallus, the origin\nprobably of the Phallic emblem of Egypt and Greece. As the God of\ngeneration and justice, which latter character he shares with the god\nYama, he is represented riding a white bull. His own colour, as well as\nthat of the bull, is generally white, referring probably to the unsullied\npurity of Justice. His throat is dark-blue; his hair of a light reddish\ncolour, and thickly matted together, and gathered above his head like the\nhair of an ascetic. He is sometimes seen with two hands, sometimes with\nfour, eight, or ten, and with five faces. He has three eyes, one being in\nthe centre of his forehead, pointing up and down. These are said to denote\nhis view of the three divisions of time, past, present, and future. He\nholds a trident in his hand to denote, as some say, his relationship to\nwater, or according to others, to show that the three great attributes of\nCreator, Destroyer, and Regenerator are combined in him. His loins are\nenveloped in a tiger\u2019s skin. In his character of Time, he not only\npresides over its extinction, but also its astronomical regulation. A\ncrescent or half-moon on his forehead indicates the measure of time by the\nphases of the moon; a serpent forms one of his necklaces to denote the\nmeasure of time by years, and a second necklace of human skulls marks the\nlapse and revolution of ages, and the extinction and succession of the\ngenerations of mankind. He is often represented as entirely covered with\nserpents, which are the emblems of immortality. They are bound in his\nhair, round his neck, wrists, waist, arms and legs; they serve as rings\nfor his fingers, and earrings for his ears, and are his constant\ncompanions. \u015aiva has more than a thousand names which are detailed at\nlength in the sixty-ninth chapter of the \u015aiva Pur\u00e1\u1e47a.\u201d\u2014WILLIAMS\u2019S\nDICTIONARY, _\u015aiva_.\n\n\n\n\nApsarases.\n\n\n\u201cOriginally these deities seem to have been personifications of the\nvapours which are attracted by the sun, and form into mist or clouds:\ntheir character may be thus interpreted in the few hymns of the Rigveda\nwhere mention is made of them. At a subsequent period when the Gandharva\nof the Rigveda who personifies there especially the Fire of the Sun,\nexpanded into the Fire of Lightning, the rays of the moon and other\nattributes of the elementary life of heaven as well as into pious acts\nreferring to it, the Apsarasas become divinities which represent phenomena\nor objects both of a physical and ethical kind closely associated with\nthat life; thus in the _Yajurveda_ Sunbeams are called the Apsarasas\nassociated with the Gandharva who is the Sun; Plants are termed the\nApsarasas connected with the Gandharva Fire: Constellations are the\nApsarasas of the Gandharva Moon: Waters the Apsarasas of the Gandharva\nWind, etc. etc.\u2026 In the last Mythological epoch when the Gandharvas have\nsaved from their elementary nature merely so much as to be musicians in\nthe paradise of Indra, the Apsarasas appear among other subordinate\ndeities which share in the merry life of Indra\u2019s heaven, as the wives of\nthe Gandharvas, but more especially as wives of a licentious sort, and\nthey are promised therefore, too, as a reward to heroes fallen in battle\nwhen they are received in the paradise of Indra; and while, in the\nRigveda, they assist Soma to pour down his floods, they descend in the\nepic literature on earth merely to shake the virtue of penitent Sages and\nto deprive them of the power they would otherwise have acquired through\nunbroken austerities.\u201d\u2014GOLDST\u00dcCKER\u2019S _Sanskrit Dictionary_.\n\n\n\n\nVishnu\u2019s Incarnation As R\u00e1ma.\n\n\n\u201cHere is described one of the _avat\u00e1rs_, descents or manifestations of\nVish\u1e47u in a visible form. The word _avat\u00e1r_ signifies literally _descent_.\nThe _avat\u00e1r_ which is here spoken of, that in which, according to Indian\ntraditions, Vish\u1e47u descended and appeared upon earth in the corporeal form\nof R\u00e1ma, the hero of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana, is the seventh in the series of Indian\n_avat\u00e1rs_. Much has been said before now of these avat\u00e1rs, and through\ndeficient knowledge of the ideas and doctrines of India, they have been\ncompared to the sublime dogma of the Christian Incarnation. This is one of\nthe grossest errors that ignorance of the ideas and beliefs of a people\nhas produced. Between the _avat\u00e1rs_ of India and the Christian Incarnation\nthere is such an immensity of difference that it is impossible to find any\nreasonable analogy that can approximate them. The idea of the _avat\u00e1rs_ is\nintimately united with that of the Trim\u00farti; the bond of connection\nbetween these two ideas is an essential notion common to both, the notion\nof Vish\u1e47u. What is the Trim\u00farti? I have already said that it is composed\nof three Gods, Brahm\u00e1 (masculine), Vish\u1e47u the God of _avat\u00e1rs_, and \u015aiva.\nThese three Gods, who when reduced to their primitive and most simple\nexpression are but three cosmogonical personifications, three powers or\nforces of nature, these Gods, I say, are here found, according to Indian\ndoctrines, entirely external to the true God of India, or Brahma in the\nneuter gender. Brahma is alone, unchangeable in the midst of creation: all\nemanates from him, he comprehends all, but he remains extraneous to all:\nhe is Being and the negation of beings. Brahma is never worshipped; the\nindeterminate Being is never invoked; he is inaccessible to the prayers as\nthe actions of man; humanity, as well as nature, is extraneous to him.\nExternal to Brahma rises the Trim\u00farti, that is to say, Brahm\u00e1 (masculine)\nthe power which creates, Vish\u1e47u the power which preserves, and \u015aiva the\npower which destroys: theogony here commences at the same time with\ncosmogony. The three divinities of the Trim\u00farti govern the phenomena of\nthe universe and influence all nature. The real God of India is by himself\nwithout power; real efficacious power is attributed only to three\ndivinities who exist externally to him. Brahm\u00e1, Vish\u1e47u, and \u015aiva,\npossessed of qualities in part contradictory and attributes that are\nmutually exclusive, have no other accord or harmony than that which\nresults from the power of things itself, and which is found external to\ntheir own thoughts. Such is the Indian Trim\u00farti. What an immense\ndifference between this Triad and the wonderful Trinity of Christianity!\nHere there is only one God, who created all, provides for all, governs\nall. He exists in three Persons equal to one another, and intimately\nunited in one only infinite and eternal substance. The Father represents\nthe eternal thought and the power which created, the Son infinite love,\nthe Holy Spirit universal sanctification. This one and triune God\ncompletes by omnipotent power the great work of creation which, when it\nhas come forth from His hands, proceeds in obedience to the laws which He\nhas given it, governed with certain order by His infinite providence.\n\n\u201cThe immense difference between the Trim\u00farti of India and the Christian\nTrinity is found again between the _avat\u00e1rs_ of Vish\u1e47u and the Incarnation\nof Christ. The _avat\u00e1r_ was effected altogether externally to the Being\nwho is in India regarded as the true God. The manifestation of one\nessentially cosmogonical divinity wrought for the most part only material\nand cosmogonical prodigies. At one time it takes the form of the gigantic\ntortoise which sustains Mount Mandar from sinking in the ocean; at another\nof the fish which raises the lost Veda from the bottom of the sea, and\nsaves mankind from the waters. When these _avat\u00e1rs_ are not cosmogonical\nthey consist in some protection accorded to men or Gods, a protection\nwhich is neither universal nor permanent. The very manner in which the\n_avat\u00e1r_ is effected corresponds to its material nature, for instance the\nmysterious vase and the magic liquor by means of which the _avat\u00e1r_ here\nspoken of takes place. What are the forms which Vish\u1e47u takes in his\ndescents? They are the simple forms of life; he becomes a tortoise, a\nboar, a fish, but he is not obliged to take the form of intelligence and\nliberty, that is to say, the form of man. In the _avat\u00e1r_ of Vish\u1e47u is\ndiscovered the inpress of pantheistic ideas which have always more or less\nprevailed in India. Does the _avat\u00e1r_ produce a permanent and definitive\nresult in the world? By no means. It is renewed at every catastrophe\neither of nature or man, and its effects are only transitory.\u2026 To sum up\nthen, the Indian _avat\u00e1r_ is effected externally to the true God of India,\nto Brahma; it has only a cosmogonical or historical mission which is\nneither lasting nor decisive; it is accomplished by means of strange\nprodigies and magic transformations; it may assume promiscuously all the\nforms of life; it may be repeated indefinitely. Now let the whole of this\nIndian idea taken from primitive tradition be compared with the\nIncarnation of Christ and it will be seen that there is between the two an\nirreconcilable difference. According to the doctrines of Christianity the\nEverlasting Word, Infinite Love, the Son of God, and equal to Him, assumed\na human body, and being born as a man accomplished by his divine act the\ngreat miracle of the spiritual redemption of man. His coming had for its\nsole object to bring erring and lost humanity back to Him; this work being\naccomplished, and the divine union of men with God being re-established,\nredemption is complete and remains eternal.\n\n\u201cThe superficial study of India produced in the last century many\nerroneous ideas, many imaginary and false parallels between Christianity\nand the Brahmanical religion. A profounder knowledge of Indian\ncivilization and religion, and philological studies enlarged and guided by\nmore certain principles have dissipated one by one all those errors. The\nattributes of the Christian God, which by one of those intellectual\nerrors, which Vico attributes to the vanity of the learned, had been\ntransferred to Vish\u1e47u, have by a better inspired philosophy been reclaimed\nfor Christianity, and the result of the two religions, one immovable and\npowerless, the other diffusing itself with all its inherent force and\nenergy, has shown further that there is a difference, a real opposition,\nbetween the two principles.\u201d\u2014GORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nKusa and Lava.\n\n\nAs the story of the banishment of S\u00edt\u00e1 and the subsequent birth in\nV\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s hermitage of Ku\u015ba and Lava the rhapsodists of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, is\nintimately connected with the account in the introductory cantos of\nV\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s composition of the poem, I shall, I trust, be pardoned for\nextracting it from my rough translation of K\u00e1lid\u00e1sa\u2019s Raghuva\u1e47\u015ba, parts\nonly of which have been offered to the public.\n\n\u201cThen, day by day, the husband\u2019s hope grew high,\nGazing with love on S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s melting eye:\nWith anxious care he saw her pallid cheek,\nAnd fondly bade her all her wishes speak.\n\u201cOnce more I fain would see,\u201d the lady cried,\n\u201cThe sacred groves that rise on Gang\u00e1\u2019s side,\nWhere holy grass is ever fresh and green,\nAnd cattle feeding on the rice are seen:\nThere would I rest awhile, where once I strayed\nLinked in sweet friendship to each hermit maid.\u201d\nAnd R\u00e1ma smiled upon his wife, and sware,\nWith many a tender oath, to grant her prayer.\nIt chanced, one evening, from a lofty seat\nHe viewed Ayodhy\u00e1 stretched before his feet:\nHe looked with pride upon the royal road\nLined with gay shops their glittering stores that showed,\nHe looked on Sarj\u00fa\u2019s silver waves, that bore\nThe light barks flying with the sail and oar;\nHe saw the gardens near the town that lay,\nFilled with glad citizens and boys at play.\nThen swelled the monarch\u2019s bosom with delight,\nAnd his heart triumphed at the happy sight.\nHe turned to Bhadra, standing by his side,\u2014\nUpon whose secret news the king relied.\u2014\nAnd bade him say what people said and thought\nOf all the exploits that his arm had wrought.\nThe spy was silent, but, when questioned still,\nThus spake, obedient to his master\u2019s will:\n\u201cFor all thy deeds in peace and battle done\nThe people praise thee, King, except for one:\nThis only act of all thy life they blame,\u2014\nThy welcome home of her, thy ravished dame.\u201d\nLike iron yielding to the iron\u2019s blow,\nSank R\u00e1ma, smitten by those words of woe.\nHis breast, where love and fear for empire vied,\nSwayed, like a rapid swing, from side to side.\nShall he this rumour scorn, which blots his life,\nOr banish her, his dear and spotless wife?\nBut rigid Duty left no choice between\nHis perilled honour and his darling queen.\nCalled to his side, his brothers wept to trace\nThe marks of anguish in his altered face.\nNo longer bright and glorious as of old,\nHe thus addressed them when the tale was told:\n\u201cAlas! my brothers, that my life should blot\nThe fame of those the Sun himself begot:\nAs from the labouring cloud the driven rain\nLeaves on the mirror\u2019s polished face a stain.\nE\u2019en as an elephant who loathes the stake\nAnd the strong chain he has no power to break,\nI cannot brook this cry on every side,\nThat spreads like oil upon the moving tide.\nI leave the daughter of Videha\u2019s King,\nAnd the fair blossom soon from her to spring,\nAs erst, obedient to my sire\u2019s command,\nI left the empire of the sea-girt land.\nGood is my queen, and spotless; but the blame\nIs hard to bear, the mockery and the shame.\nMen blame the pure Moon for the darkened ray,\nWhen the black shadow takes the light away.\nAnd, O my brothers, if ye wish to see\nR\u00e1ma live long from this reproach set free,\nLet not your pity labour to control\nThe firm sad purpose of his changeless soul.\u201d\n\n  Thus R\u00e1ma spake. The sorrowing brothers heard\nHis stern resolve, without an answering word;\nFor none among them dared his voice to raise,\nThat will to question:\u2014and they could not praise.\n\u201cBeloved brother,\u201d thus the monarch cried\nTo his dear Lakshma\u1e47, whom he called aside.\u2014\nLakshma\u1e47, who knew no will save his alone\nWhose hero deeds through all the world were known:\u2014\n\u201cMy queen has told me that she longs to rove\nBeneath the shade of Saint V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s grove:\nNow mount thy car, away my lady bear;\nTell all, and leave her in the forest there.\u201d\n\n  The car was brought, the gentle lady smiled,\nAs the glad news her trusting heart beguiled.\nShe mounted up: Sumantra held the reins;\nAnd forth the coursers bounded o\u2019er the plains.\nShe saw green fields in all their beauty dressed,\nAnd thanked her husband in her loving breast.\nAlas! deluded queen! she little knew\nHow changed was he whom she believed so true;\nHow one she worshipped like the Heavenly Tree\nCould, in a moment\u2019s time, so deadly be.\nHer right eye throbbed,\u2014ill-omened sign, to tell\nThe endless loss of him she loved so well,\nAnd to the lady\u2019s saddening heart revealed\nThe woe that Lakshma\u1e47, in his love, concealed.\nPale grew the bloom of her sweet face,\u2014as fade\nThe lotus blossoms,\u2014by that sign dismayed.\n\u201cOh, may this omen,\u201d\u2014was her silent prayer,\u2014\n\u201cNo grief to R\u00e1ma or his brothers bear!\u201d\n\n  When Lakshma\u1e47, faithful to his brother, stood\nPrepared to leave her in the distant wood,\nThe holy Gang\u00e1, flowing by the way,\nRaised all her hands of waves to bid him stay.\nAt length with sobs and burning tears that rolled\nDown his sad face, the king\u2019s command he told;\nAs when a monstrous cloud, in evil hour,\nRains from its labouring womb a stony shower.\nShe heard, she swooned, she fell upon the earth,\nFell on that bosom whence she sprang to birth.\nAs, when the tempest in its fury flies,\nLow in the dust the prostrate creeper lies,\nSo, struck with terror sank she on the ground,\nAnd all her gems, like flowers, lay scattered round.\nBut Earth, her mother, closed her stony breast,\nAnd, filled with doubt, denied her daughter rest.\nShe would not think the Chief of Raghu\u2019s race\nWould thus his own dear guiltless wife disgrace.\nStunned and unconscious, long the lady lay,\nAnd felt no grief, her senses all astray.\nBut gentle Lakshma\u1e47, with a brother\u2019s care,\nBrought back her sense, and with her sense, despair.\nBut not her wrongs, her shame, her grief, could wring\nOne angry word against her lord the King:\nUpon herself alone the blame she laid,\nFor tears and sighs that would not yet be stayed.\nTo soothe her anguish Lakshma\u1e47 gently strove;\nHe showed the path to Saint V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s grove;\nAnd craved her pardon for the share of ill\nHe wrought, obedient to his brother\u2019s will.\n\u201cO, long and happy, dearest brother, live!\nI have to praise,\u201d she cried, \u201cand not forgive:\nTo do his will should be thy noblest praise;\nAs Vish\u1e47u ever Indra\u2019s will obeys.\nReturn, dear brother: on each royal dame\nBestow a blessing in poor S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s name,\nAnd bid them, in their love, kind pity take\nUpon her offspring, for the father\u2019s sake.\nAnd speak my message in the monarch\u2019s ear,\nThe last last words of mine that he shall hear:\n\u201cSay, was it worthy of thy noble race\nThy guiltless queen thus lightly to disgrace?\nFor idle tales to spurn thy faithful bride,\nWhose constant truth the searching fire had tried?\nOr may I hope thy soul refused consent,\nAnd but thy voice decreed my banishment?\nHope that no care could turn, no love could stay\nThe lightning stroke that falls on me to-day?\nThat sins committed in the life that\u2019s fled\nHave brought this evil on my guilty head?\nThink not I value now my widowed life,\nWorthless to her who once was R\u00e1ma\u2019s wife.\nI only live because I hope to see\nThe dear dear babe that will resemble thee.\nAnd then my task of penance shall be done,\nWith eyes uplifted to the scorching sun;\nSo shall the life that is to come restore\nMine own dear husband, to be lost no more.\u201d\nAnd Lakshma\u1e47 swore her every word to tell,\nThen turned to go, and bade the queen farewell.\nAlone with all her woes, her piteous cries\nRose like a butchered lamb\u2019s that struggling dies.\nThe reverend sage who from his dwelling came\nFor sacred grass and wood to feed the flame,\nHeard her loud shrieks that rent the echoing wood,\nAnd, quickly following, by the mourner stood.\nBefore the sage the lady bent her low,\nDried her poor eyes, and strove to calm her woe.\nWith blessings on her hopes the blameless man\nIn silver tones his soothing speech began:\n\u201cFirst of all faithful wives, O Queen, art thou;\nAnd can I fail to mourn thy sorrows now?\nRest in this holy grove, nor harbour fear\nWhere dwell in safety e\u2019en the timid deer.\nHere shall thine offspring safely see the light,\nAnd be partaker of each holy rite.\nHere, near the hermits\u2019 dwellings, shall thou lave\nThy limbs in Tonse\u2019s sin-destroying wave,\nAnd on her isles, by prayer and worship, gain\nSweet peace of mind, and rest from care and pain.\nEach hermit maiden with her sweet soft voice,\nShall soothe thy woe, and bid thy heart rejoice:\nWith fruit and early flowers thy lap shall fill,\nAnd offer grain that springs for us at will.\nAnd here, with labour light, thy task shall be\nTo water carefully each tender tree,\nAnd learn how sweet a nursing mother\u2019s joy\nEre on thy bosom rest thy darling boy.\u2026\u201d\n\nThat very night the banished S\u00edt\u00e1 bare\nTwo royal children, most divinely fair.\u2026\n\nThe saint V\u00e1lm\u00edki, with a friend\u2019s delight,\nGraced S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s offspring with each holy rite.\nKu\u015ba and Lava\u2014such the names they bore\u2014\nLearnt, e\u2019en in childhood, all the Vedas\u2019 lore;\nAnd then the bard, their minstrel souls to train,\nTaught them to sing his own immortal strain.\nAnd R\u00e1ma\u2019s deeds her boys so sweetly sang,\nThat S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s breast forgot her bitterest pang.\u2026\n\nThen S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s children, by the saint\u2019s command,\nSang the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, wandering through the land.\nHow could the glorious poem fail to gain\nEach heart, each ear that listened to the strain!\nSo sweet each minstrel\u2019s voice who sang the praise\nOf R\u00e1ma deathless in V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s lays.\nR\u00e1ma himself amid the wondering throng\nMarked their fair forms, and loved the noble song,\nWhile, still and weeping, round the nobles stood,\nAs, on a windless morn, a dewy wood.\nOn the two minstrels all the people gazed,\nPraised their fair looks and marvelled as they praised;\nFor every eye amid the throng could trace\nR\u00e1ma\u2019s own image in each youthful face.\nThen spoke the king himself and bade them say\nWho was their teacher, whose the wondrous lay.\nSoon as V\u00e1lm\u00edki, mighty saint, he saw,\nHe bowed his head in reverential awe.\n\u201cThese are thy children\u201d cried the saint, \u201crecall\nThine own dear S\u00edt\u00e1, pure and true through all.\u201d\n\u201cO holy father,\u201d thus the king replied,\n\u201cThe faithful lady by the fire was tried;\nBut the foul demon\u2019s too successful arts\nRaised light suspicions in my people\u2019s hearts.\nGrant that their breasts may doubt her faith no more,\nAnd thus my S\u00edt\u00e1 and her sons restore.\u201d\n\n_Raghuva\u1e47\u015ba Cantos XIV, XV._\n\n\n\n\nParasur\u00e1ma, Page 87.\n\n\n\u201cHe cleared the earth thrice seven times of the Kshatriya caste, and\nfilled with their blood the five large lakes of Samanta, from which he\noffered libations to the race of Bhrigu. Offering a solemn sacrifice to\nthe King of the Gods Para\u015bur\u00e1ma presented the earth to the ministering\npriests. Having given the earth to Ka\u015byapa, the hero of immeasurable\nprowess retired to the Mahendra mountain, where he still resides; and in\nthis manner was there enmity between him and the race of the Kshatriyas,\nand thus was the whole earth conquered by Para\u015bur\u00e1ma.\u201d The destruction of\nthe Kshatriyas by Para\u015bur\u00e1ma had been provoked by the cruelty of the\nKshatriyas. _Chips from a German Workshop_, _Vol._ II. p. 334.\n\nThe scene in which he appears is probably interpolated for the sake of\nmaking him declare R\u00e1ma to be Vish\u1e47u. \u201cHerr von Schlegel has often\nremarked to me,\u201d says Lassen, \u201cthat without injuring the connexion of the\nstory all the chapters [of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan] might be omitted in which R\u00e1ma is\nregarded as an incarnation of Vish\u1e47u. In fact, where the incarnation of\nVish\u1e47u as the four sons of Da\u015baratha is described, the great sacrifice is\nalready ended, and all the priests remunerated at the termination, when\nthe new sacrifice begins at which the Gods appear, then withdraw, and then\nfirst propose the incarnation to Vish\u1e47u. If it had been an original\ncircumstance of the story, the Gods would certainly have deliberated on\nthe matter earlier, and the celebration of the sacrifice would have\ncontinued without interruption.\u201d LASSEN, _Indische Alterthumskunde, Vol.\nI._ p. 489.\n\n\n\n\nY\u00e1ma, Page 68.\n\n\nSon of Vivasvat=Jima son of Vivanghvat, the Jamsh\u00edd of the later Persians.\n\n\n\n\nFate, Page 68.\n\n\n\u201cThe idea of fate was different in India from that which prevailed in\nGreece. In Greece fate was a mysterious, inexorable power which governed\nmen and human events, and from which it was impossible to escape. In India\nFate was rather an inevitable consequence of actions done in births\nantecedent to one\u2019s present state of existence, and was therefore\nconnected with the doctrine of metempsychosis. A misfortune was for the\nmost part a punishment, an expiation of ancient faults not yet entirely\ncancelled.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nVisv\u00e1mitra, Page 76.\n\n\n\u201cThough of royal extraction, Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra conquered for himself and his\nfamily the privileges of a Brahman. He became a Brahman, and thus broke\nthrough all the rules of caste. The Brahmans cannot deny the fact, because\nit forms one of the principal subjects of their legendary poems. But they\nhave spared no pains to represent the exertions of Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, in his\nstruggle for Brahmanhood, as so superhuman that no one would easily be\ntempted to follow his example. No mention is made of these monstrous\npenances in the Veda, where the struggle between Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, the leader of\nthe Ku\u015bikas or Bharatas, and the Brahman Va\u015bishtha, the leader of the\nwhite-robed Tritsus, is represented as the struggle of two rivals for the\nplace of Purohita or chief priest and minister at the court of King Sud\u00e1s,\nthe son of Pijavana.\u201d _Chips from a German Workshop_, _Vol. II._ p. 336.\n\n\n\n\nHousehold Gods, Page 102.\n\n\n\u201cNo house is supposed to be without its tutelary divinity, but the notion\nattached to this character is now very far from precise. The deity who is\nthe object of hereditary and family worship, the _Kuladevat\u00e1_, is always\none of the leading personages of the Hindu mythology, as \u015aiva, Vish\u1e47u or\nDurg\u00e1, but the _Grihadevat\u00e1_ rarely bears any distinct appellation. In\nBengal, the domestic god is sometimes the _S\u00e1lagr\u00e1m_ stone, sometimes the\n_tulasi_ plant, sometimes a basket with a little rice in it, and sometimes\na water-jar\u2014to either of which a brief adoration is daily addressed, most\nusually by the females of the family. Occasionally small images of Lakshmi\nor Cha\u1e47di fulfil the office, or should a snake appear, he is venerated as\nthe guardian of the dwelling. In general, however, in former times, the\nhousehold deities were regarded as the unseen spirits of ill, the ghosts\nand goblins who hovered about every spot, and claimed some particular\nsites as their own. Offerings were made to them in the open air, by\nscattering a little rice with a short formula at the close of all\nceremonies to keep them in good humour.\n\n\u201cThe household gods correspond better with the genii locorum than with the\nlares or penates of autiquity.\u201d\n\nH. H. WILSON.\n\n\n\n\nPage 107.\n\n\n_\u015aaivya, a king whom earth obeyed,_\n_Once to a hawk a promise made._\n\nThe following is a free version of this very ancient story which occurs\nmore than once in the _Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat_:\n\nTHE SUPPLIANT DOVE.\n\nChased by a hawk there came a dove\n  With worn and weary wing,\nAnd took her stand upon the hand\n  Of K\u00e1\u015b\u00ed\u2019s mighty king.\nThe monarch smoothed her ruffled plumes\n  And laid her on his breast,\nAnd cried, \u201cNo fear shall vex thee here,\n  Rest, pretty egg-born, rest!\nFair K\u00e1\u015b\u00ed\u2019s realm is rich and wide,\n  With golden harvests gay,\nBut all that\u2019s mine will I resign\n  Ere I my guest betray.\u201d\nBut panting for his half won spoil\n  The hawk was close behind.\nAnd with wild cry and eager eye\n  Came swooping down the wind:\n\u201cThis bird,\u201d he cried, \u201cmy destined prize,\n  \u2019Tis not for thee to shield:\n\u2019Tis mine by right and toilsome flight\n  O\u2019er hill and dale and field.\nHunger and thirst oppress me sore,\n  And I am faint with toil:\nThou shouldst not stay a bird of prey\n  Who claims his rightful spoil.\nThey say thou art a glorious king,\n  And justice is thy care:\nThen justly reign in thy domain,\n  Nor rob the birds of air.\u201d\nThen cried the king: \u201cA cow or deer\n  For thee shall straightway bleed,\nOr let a ram or tender lamb\n  Be slain, for thee to feed.\nMine oath forbids me to betray\n  My little twice-born guest:\nSee how she clings with trembling wings\n  To her protector\u2019s breast.\u201d\n\u201cNo flesh of lambs,\u201d the hawk replied,\n  \u201cNo blood of deer for me;\nThe falcon loves to feed on doves\n  And such is Heaven\u2019s decree.\nBut if affection for the dove\n  Thy pitying heart has stirred,\nLet thine own flesh my maw refresh,\n  Weighed down against the bird.\u201d\nHe carved the flesh from off his side,\n  And threw it in the scale,\nWhile women\u2019s cries smote on the skies\n  With loud lament and wail.\nHe hacked the flesh from side and arm,\n  From chest and back and thigh,\nBut still above the little dove\n  The monarch\u2019s scale stood high.\nHe heaped the scale with piles of flesh,\n  With sinews, blood and skin,\nAnd when alone was left him bone\n  He threw himself therein.\nThen thundered voices through the air;\n  The sky grew black as night;\nAnd fever took the earth that shook\n  To see that wondrous sight.\nThe blessed Gods, from every sphere,\n  By Indra led, came nigh:\nWhile drum and flute and shell and lute\n  Made music in the sky.\nThey rained immortal chaplets down,\n  Which hands celestial twine,\nAnd softly shed upon his head\n  Pure Amrit, drink divine.\nThen God and Seraph, Bard and Nymph\n  Their heavenly voices raised,\nAnd a glad throng with dance and song\n  The glorious monarch praised.\nThey set him on a golden car\n  That blazed with many a gem;\nThen swiftly through the air they flew,\n  And bore him home with them.\nThus K\u00e1\u015b\u00ed\u2019s lord, by noble deed,\n  Won heaven and deathless fame:\nAnd when the weak protection seek\n  From thee, do thou the same.\n\n_Scenes from the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, &c._\n\n\n\n\nPage 108.\n\n\nThe ceremonies that attended the consecration of a king (_Abhikshepa lit.\nSprinkling over_) are fully described in Goldst\u00fccker\u2019s Dictionary, from\nwhich the following extract is made: \u201cThe type of the inauguration\nceremony as practised at the Epic period may probably be recognized in the\nhistory of the inauguration of _R\u00e1ma_, as told in the _R\u00e1m\u00e1yana_, and in\nthat of the inauguration of _Yudhish\u1e6dhira_, as told in the _Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1ratha_.\nNeither ceremony is described in these poems with the full detail which is\ngiven of the vaidik rite in the _Aitareya-Br\u00e1hma\u1e47am_; but the allusion\nthat R\u00e1ma was inaugurated by _Va\u015bish\u1e6dha_ and the other Br\u00e1hmanas in the\nsame manner as Indra by the Vasus \u2026 and the observation which is made in\nsome passages that a certain rite of the inauguration was performed\n\u2018according to the sacred rule\u2019 \u2026 admit of the conclusion that the ceremony\nwas supposed to have taken place in conformity with the vaidik\ninjunction.\u2026 As the inauguration of _R\u00e1ma_ was intended and the necessary\npreparations for it were made when his father Da\u015baratha was still alive,\nbut as the ceremony itself, through the intrigues of his step-mother\n_Kaikey\u00ed_, did not take place then, but fourteen years later, after the\ndeath of _Da\u015baratha_, an account of the preparatory ceremonies is given in\nthe _Ayodhy\u00e1k\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_ (Book II) as well as in the _Yuddha-K\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_ (Book VI.)\nof the R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a, but an account of the complete ceremony in the latter\nbook alone. According to the _Ayodhy\u00e1k\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_, on the day preceding the\nintended inauguration _R\u00e1ma_ and his wife _S\u00edt\u00e1_ held a fast, and in the\nnight they performed this preliminary rite: _R\u00e1ma_ having made his\nablutions, approached the idol of _N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47a_, took a cup of clarified\nbutter, as the religious law prescribes, made a libation of it into the\nkindled fire, and drank the remainder while wishing what was agreeable to\nhis heart. Then, with his mind fixed on the divinity he lay, silent and\ncomposed, together with _S\u00edt\u00e1_, on a bed of Ku\u015ba-grass, which was spread\nbefore the altar of Vish\u1e47u, until the last watch of the night, when he\nawoke and ordered the palace to be prepared for the solemnity. At\nday-break reminded of the time by the voices of the bards, he performed\nthe usual morning devotion and praised the divinity. In the meantime the\ntown Ayodhy\u00e1 had assumed a festive appearance and the inauguration\nimplements had been arranged \u2026 golden water-jars, an ornamented\nthrone-seat, a chariot covered with a splendid tiger-skin, water taken\nfrom the confluence of the Ganges and Jumna, as well as from other sacred\nrivers, tanks, wells, lakes, and from all oceans, honey, curd, clarified\nbutter, fried grain, Ku\u015ba-grass, flowers, milk; besides, eight beautiful\ndamsels, and a splendid furious elephant, golden and silver jars, filled\nwith water, covered with _Udumbara_ branches and various lotus flowers,\nbesides a white jewelled _chourie_, a white splendid parasol, a white\nbull, a white horse, all manner of musical instruments and bards.\u2026 In the\npreceding chapter \u2026 there are mentioned _two_ white _chouries_ instead of\none, and all kinds of seeds, perfumes and jewels, a scimitar, a bow, a\nlitter, a golden vase, and a blazing fire, and amongst the living\nimplements of the pageant, instead of the bards, gaudy courtesans, and\nbesides the eight damsels, professors of divinity, Br\u00e1hma\u1e47as, cows and\npure kinds of wild beasts and birds, the chiefs of town and country-people\nand the citizens with their train.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPage 109.\n\n\n_Then with the royal chaplains they_\n_Took each his place in long array._\n\n_The twice born chiefs, with zealous heed,_\n_Made ready what the rite would need._\n\n\u201cNow about the office of a Purohita (house priest). The gods do not eat\nthe food offered by a king, who has no house-priest (Purohita). Thence the\nking even when (not) intending to bring a sacrifice, should appoint a\nBr\u00e1hman to the office of house-priest.\u201d HAUG\u2019S _Autareya Br\u00e1hmanam. Vol.\nII. p. 528_.\n\n\n\n\nPage 110.\n\n\n_There by the gate the S\u00e1ras screamed._\n\nThe S\u00e1ras or Indian Crane is a magnificent bird easily domesticated and\nspeedily constituting himself the watchman of his master\u2019s house and\ngarden. Unfortunately he soon becomes a troublesome and even dangerous\ndependent, attacking strangers with his long bill and powerful wings, and\nwarring especially upon \u201csmall infantry\u201d with unrelenting ferocity.\n\n\n\n\nPage 120.\n\n\n_My mothers or my sire the king._\n\nAll the wives of the king his father are regarded and spoken of by R\u00e1ma as\nhis mothers.\n\n\n\n\nPage 125.\n\n\n_Such blessings as the Gods o\u2019erjoyed_\n_Poured forth when Vritra was destroyed._\n\n\u201cMythology regards Vritra as a demon or Asur, the implacable enemy of\nIndra, but this is not the primitive idea contained in the name of Vritra.\nIn the hymns of the Veda Vritra appears to be the thick dark cloud which\nIndra the God of the firmament attacks and disperses with his\nthunderbolt.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n\u201cIn that class of Rig-veda hymns which there is reason to look upon as the\noldest portion of Vedic poetry, the character of Indra is that of a mighty\nruler of the firmament, and his principal feat is that of conquering the\ndemon _Vritra_, a symbolical personification of the cloud which obstructs\nthe clearness of the sky, and withholds the fructifying rain from the\nearth. In his battles with Vritra he is therefore described as \u2018opening\nthe receptacles of the waters,\u2019 as \u2018cleaving the cloud\u2019 with his\n\u2018far-whirling thunderbolt,\u2019 as \u2018casting the waters down to earth,\u2019 and\n\u2018restoring the sun to the sky.\u2019 He is in consequence \u2018the upholder of\nheaven, earth, and firmament,\u2019 and the god \u2018who has engendered the sun and\nthe dawn.\u2019 \u201d CHAMBERS\u2019S CYCLOP\u00c6DIA, _Indra_.\n\n\u201cThroughout these hymns two images stand out before us with overpowering\ndistinctness. On one side is the bright god of the heaven, as beneficent\nas he is irresistible: on the other the demon of night and of darkness, as\nfalse and treachorous as he is malignant.\u2026 The latter (as his name Vritra,\nfrom var, to veil, indicates) is pre-eminently the thief who hides away\nthe rain-clouds.\u2026 But the myth is yet in too early a state to allow of the\ndefinite designations which are brought before us in the conflicts of Zeus\nwith Typh\u00f4n and his monstrous progeny, of Apoll\u00f4n with the Pyth\u00f4n, of\nBelleroph\u00f4n with Chimaira of Oidipous with the Sphinx, of Hercules with\nCacus, of Sigurd with the dragon Fafnir; and thus not only is Vritra known\nby many names, but he is opposed sometimes by Indra, sometimes by Agni the\nfire-god, sometimes by Trita, Brihaspati, or other deities; or rather\nthese are all names of one and the same god.\u201d COX\u2019S _Mythology of the\nAryan Nations. Vol. II. p. 326_.\n\n\n\n\nPage 125.\n\n\n_And that prized herb whose sovereign power_\n_Preserves from dark misfortune\u2019s hour._\n\u201cAnd yet more medicinal is it than that Moly,\nThat Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;\nHe called it H\u00e6mony, and gave it me,\nAnd bade me keep it as of sovereign use\n\u2019Gainst all enchantment, mildew, blast, or damp,\nOr ghastly furies\u2019 apparition.\u201d _Comus._\n\nThe _Moly_ of Homer, which Dierbach considers to have been the _Mandrake_,\nis probably a corruption of the Sanskrit _M\u00fala_ a root.\n\n\n\n\nPage 136.\n\n\n_True is the ancient saw: the Neem_\n_Can ne\u2019er distil a honeyed stream._\n\nThe Neem tree, especially in the Rains, emits a strong unpleasant smell\nlike that of onions. Its leaves however make an excellent cooling\npoultice, and the Extract of Neem is an admirable remedy for cutaneous\ndisorders.\n\n\n\n\nPage 152.\n\n\n_Who of Nish\u00e1da lineage came._\n\nThe following account of the origin of the Nish\u00e1das is taken from Wilson\u2019s\n_Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Book I. Chap. 15. \u201cAfterwards the Munis beheld a great\ndust arise, and they said to the people who were nigh: \u2018What is this?\u2019 And\nthe people answered and said: \u2018Now that the kingdom is without a king, the\ndishonest men have begun to seize the property of their neighbours. The\ngreat dust that you behold, excellent Munis, is raised by troops of\nclustering robbers, hastening to fall upon their prey.\u2019 The sages, hearing\nthis, consulted, and together rubbed the thigh of the king (Vena), who had\nleft no offspring, to produce a son. From the thigh, thus rubbed, came\nforth a being of the complexion of a charred stake, with flattened\nfeatures like a negro, and of dwarfish stature. \u2018What am I to do,\u2019 cried\nhe eagerly to the Munis. \u2018Sit down (nish\u00edda),\u2019 said they. And thence his\nname was Nish\u00e1da. His descendants, the inhabitants of the Vindhy\u00e1\nmountain, great Muni, are still called Nish\u00e1das and are characterized by\nthe exterior tokens of depravity.\u201d Professor Wilson adds, in his note on\nthe passage: \u201cThe Matsya says that there were born outcast or barbarous\nraces, Mlechchhas, as black as collyrium. The Bh\u00e1gavata describes an\nindividual of dwarfish stature, with short arms and legs, of a complexion\nas black as a crow, with projecting chin, broad flat nose, red eyes, and\ntawny hair, whose descendants were mountaineers and foresters. The Padma\n(Bh\u00fami Kha\u1e47\u1e0da) has a similar deccription; adding to the dwarfish stature\nand black complexion, a wide mouth, large ears, and a protuberant belly.\nIt also particularizes his posterity as Nish\u00e1das, Kir\u00e1tas, Bhillas, and\nother barbarians and Mlechchhas, living in woods and on mountains. These\npassages intend, and do not much exaggerate, the uncouth appearance of the\nGonds, Koles, Bhils, and other uncivilized tribes, scattered along the\nforests and mountains of Central India from Behar to Khandesh, and who\nare, not improbably, the predecessors of the present occupants of the\ncultivated portions of the country. They are always very black,\nill-shapen, and dwarfish, and have countenances of a very African\ncharacter.\u201d\n\nManu gives a different origin of the Nish\u00e1das as the offspring of a\nBr\u00e1hman father and a S\u00fadra mother. See Muir\u2019s _Sanskrit Texts_, Vol. I. p.\n481.\n\n\n\n\nPage 157.\n\n\n_Beneath a fig-tree\u2019s mighty shade,_\n_With countless pendent shoots displayed._\n\u201cSo counselled he, and both together went\nInto the thickest wood; there soon they chose\nThe fig-tree: not that kind for fruit renowned,\nBut such as at this day, to Indians known,\nIn Malabar or Deccan spreads her arms\nBranching so broad and long, that in the ground\nThe bended twigs take root, and daughters grow\nAbout the mother tree, a pillared shade\nHigh overarched, and echoing walks between.\u201d\n\n_Paradise Lost_, Book IX.\n\n\n\n\nPage 161.\n\n\n_Now, Lakshma\u1e47, as our cot is made,_\n_Must sacrifice be duly paid._\n\nThe rites performed in India on the completion of a house are represented\nin modern Europe by the familiar \u201chouse-warming.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPage 169.\n\n\n_I longed with all my lawless will_\n_Some elephant by night to kill._\n\nOne of the regal or military caste was forbidden to kill an elephant\nexcept in battle.\n\n_Thy hand has made no Br\u00e1hman bleed._\n\n\u201cThe punishment which the Code of Manu awards to the slayer of a Brahman\nwas to be branded in the forehead with the mark of a headless corpse, and\nentirely banished from society; this being apparently commutable for a\nfine. The poem is therefore in accordance with the Code regarding the\npeculiar guilt of killing Brahmans; but in allowing a hermit who was not a\n_Divija_ (twice-born) to go to heaven, the poem is far in advance of the\nCode. The youth in the poem is allowed to read the Veda, and to accumulate\nmerit by his own as well as his father\u2019s pious acts; whereas the exclusive\nCode reserves all such privileges to _Divijas_ invested with the sacred\ncord.\u201d Mrs. SPEIR\u2019S _Life in Ancient India_, p. 107.\n\n\n\n\nPage 174. The Praise Of Kings\n\n\n\u201cCompare this magnificent eulogium of kings and kingly government with\nwhat Samuel says of the king and his authority: And Samuel told all the\nwords of the LORD unto the people that asked of him a king.\n\nAnd he said, This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over\nyou: He will take your sons, and appoint them for himself, for his\nchariots, and to be his horsemen: and some shall run before his chariots.\n\nAnd he will appoint him captains over thousands, and captains over\nfifties, and will set them to work his ground, and to reap his harvest,\nand to make his instrument of war, and instruments of his chariots.\n\nAnd he will take your daughters to be confectionaries, and to be cooks,\nand to be bakers.\n\nAnd he will take your fields, and your vineyards and your oliveyards, even\nthe best of them, and give them to his servants.\n\nAnd he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give\nto his officers, and to his servants.\n\nAnd he will take your men-servants, and your maid-servants, and your\ngoodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work.\n\nHe will take the tenth of your sheep: and ye shall be his servants.\n\nAnd ye shall cry out in that day because of your king which ye shall have\nchosen you. I. _Samuel_, VIII.\n\nIn India kingly government was ancient and consecrated by tradition:\nwhence to change it seemed disorderly and revolutionary: in Jud\u00e6a\ntheocracy was ancient and consecrated by tradition, and therefore the\ninnovation which would substitute a king was represented as full of\ndangers.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nPage 176. S\u00e1lmal\u00ed.\n\n\nAccording to the Bengal recension \u015a\u00e1lmal\u00ed appears to have been another\nname of the Vip\u00e1\u015b\u00e1. \u015a\u00e1lmal\u00ed may be an epithet signifying rich in Bombax\nheptaphyllon. The commentator makes another river out of the word.\n\n\n\n\nPage 178. Bharat\u2019s Return.\n\n\n\u201cTwo routes from Ayodhy\u00e1 to R\u00e1jagriha or Girivraja are described. That\ntaken by the envoys appears to have been the shorter one, and we are not\ntold why Bharat returned by a different road. The capital of the Kekayas\nlay to the west of the Vip\u00e1\u015b\u00e1. Between it and the \u015aatadru stretched the\ncountry of the B\u00e1h\u00edkas. Upon the remaining portion of the road the two\nrecensions differ. According to that of Bengal there follow towards the\neast the river Indamat\u00ed, then the town Ajak\u00e1la belonging to the Bodhi,\nthen Bhuling\u00e1, then the river \u015aarada\u1e47\u1e0d\u00e1. According to the other instead of\nthe first river comes the Ikshumat\u00ed \u2026 instead of the first town Abhik\u00e1la,\ninstead of the second Kuling\u00e1, then the second river. According to the\ndirection of the route both the above-mentioned rivers must be tributaries\nof the \u015aatadr\u00fa.\u2026 The road then crossed the Yamun\u00e1 (Jumna), led beyond that\nriver through the country of the Panch\u00e1las, and reached the Ganges at\nH\u00e1stinapura, where the ferry was. Thence it led over the R\u00e1magang\u00e1 and its\neastern tributaries, then over the Gomati, and then in a southern\ndirection along the M\u00e1lini, beyond which it reached Ayodhy\u00e1. In Bharat\u2019s\njourney the following rivers are passed from west to east: _Kutikosh\u1e6dik\u00e1_,\n_Utt\u00e1nik\u00e1_, _Ku\u1e6dik\u00e1_, _Kap\u00edvat\u00ed_, _Gomat\u00ed_ according to Schlegel, and\n_Hira\u1e47yavat\u00ed_, _Utt\u00e1rik\u00e1_, _Ku\u1e6dil\u00e1_, _Kap\u00edvat\u00ed_, _Gomat\u00ed_ according to\nGorresio. As these rivers are to be looked for on the east of the Ganges,\nthe first must be the modern _Koh_, a small affluent of the R\u00e1magang\u00e1,\nover which the highway cannot have gone as it bends too far to the north.\nThe Utt\u00e1nik\u00e1 or Utt\u00e1rik\u00e1 must be the R\u00e1magang\u00e1, the Ku\u1e6dik\u00e1 or Ku\u1e6dil\u00e1 its\neastern tributary, Ko\u015bil\u00e1, the Kap\u00edvat\u00ed the next tributary which on the\nmaps has different names, _Gurra_ or above Kailas, lower down _Bhaigu_.\nThe Gomat\u00ed (Goomtee) retains its old name. The M\u00e1lin\u00ed, mentioned only in\nthe envoys\u2019 journey, must have been the western tributary of the Saray\u00fa\nnow called Chuk\u00e1.\u201d LASSEN\u2019S _Indische Alterthumskunde_, Vol. II. P. 524.\n\n\n\n\nPage 183.\n\n\n_What worlds await thee, Queen, for this?_\n\n\u201cIndian belief divided the universe into several worlds (_lok\u00e1h_). The\nthree principal worlds were heaven, earth, and hell. But according to\nanother division there were seven: Bh\u00farloka or the earth, Bhuvarloka or\nthe space between the earth and the sun, the seat of the Munis, Siddhas,\n&c., Svarloka or the heaven of Indra between the sun and the polar star,\nand the seventh Brahmaloka or the world of Brahma. Spirits which reached\nthe last were exempt from being born again.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nPage 203.\n\n\n_When from a million herbs a blaze_\n_Of their own luminous glory plays._\n\nThis mention of lambent flames emitted by herbs at night may be compared\nwith Lucan\u2019s description of a similar phenomenon in the Druidical forest\nnear Marseilles, (_Pharsalia_, III. 420.).\n\n_Non ardentis_ fulgere incendia silvae.\n\nSeneca, speaking of Argolis, (Thyestes, Act IV), says:\u2014\n\nTota solet\n\nMicare flamma silva, et excelsae trabes\n_Ardent sine igni_.\n\nThus also the bush at Horeb (Exod. II.) flamed, but was not consumed.\n\nThe Indian explanation of the phenomenon is, that the sun before he sets\ndeposits his rays for the night with the deciduous plants. See _Journal of\nR. As. S. Bengal_, Vol. II. p. 339.\n\n\n\n\nPage 219.\n\n\n_We rank the Buddhist with the thief._\n\nSchlegel says in his Preface: \u201cLubrico vestigio insistit V. Cl.\n_Heerenius, prof. Gottingensis_, in libro suo de commerciis veterum\npopulorum (OPP. Vol. HIST. XII, pag. 129,) dum putat, ex mentione\nsectatorum Buddhae secundo libro Rameidos iniecta de tempore, quo totum\ncarmen sit conditum, quicquam legitime concludi posse.\u2026 Sunt versus\nspurii, reiecti a Bengalis in sola commentatorum recensione leguntur.\nBuddhas quidem mille fere annis ante Christum natun vixit: sed post multa\ndemumsecula, odiointernecivo inter Brachmanos et Buddhae sectatores orto,\nhis denique ex India pulsis, fingi potuit iniquissima criminatio, eos\nanimi immortalitatem poenasque et praemia in vita futura negare. Praeterea\nmetrum, quo concinnati sunt hi versus, de quo metro mox disseram,\nrecentiorem aetatem arguit.\u2026 Poenitet me nunc mei consilii, quod non\nstatim ab initio, \u2026 eiecerim cuncta disticha diversis a sloco vulgari\nmetris composita. Metra sunt duo: pariter ambo constant quatuor\nhemistichiis inter se aequalibus, alterum undenarum syllabarum, alterum\nduodenarum, hunc in modum:\n\n[-)] [-] [)] [-] | [-] [)] [)] [-] | [)] [-] [-)]\n[)] [-] [)] [-] | [-] [)] [)] [-] | [)] [-] [)] [-)]\n\nCuius generis versus in primo et secundo Rameidos libro nusquam nisi ad\nfinem capitum apposita inveniuntur, et huic loco unice sunt accommodata,\nquasi peroratio, lyricis numeris assurgens, quo magis canorae cadant\nclausulae: sicut musici in concentibus extremis omnium vocum\ninstrumentorumque ictu fortiore aures percellere amant. Igitur disticha\nilla non ante divisionem per capita illatam addi potuerunt: hanc autem\ngrammaticis deberi argumento est ipse recensionum dissensus, manifesto\ninde ortus, quod singuli editores in ea constituenda suo quisque iudicio\nusi sunt; praeterquam quod non credibile est, poetam artis suae peritum\nnarrationem continuam in membra tam minuta dissecuisse. Porro discolor est\ndictio: magniloquentia affectatur, sed nimis turgida illa atque effusa,\nnec sententiarum pondere satis suffulta. Denique nihil fere novi affertur:\nampli ficantur prius dicta, rarius aliquid ex capite sequente anticipatur.\nSi quis appendices hosce legendo transiliat, sentiet slocum ultimum cum\nprimo capitis proximi apte coagmentatum, nec sine vi quadam inde avulsum.\nEiusmodi versus exhibet utraque recensio, sed modo haec modo illa plures\npaucioresve numero, et lectio interdum magnopere variat.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe narrative of R\u00e1ma\u2019s exile in the jungle is one of the most obscure\nportions of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana, inasmuch as it is difficult to discover any\ntrace of the original tradition, or any illustration of actual life and\nmanners, beyond the artificial life of self-mortification and selfdenial\nsaid to have been led by the Brahman sages of olden time. At the same\ntime, however, the story throws some light upon the significance of the\npoem, and upon the character in which the Brahmanical author desired to\nrepresent R\u00e1ma; and consequently it deserves more serious consideration\nthan the nature of the subject-matter would otherwise seem to imply.\n\n\u201cAccording to the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana, the hero R\u00e1ma spent more than thirteen years\nof his exile in wandering amongst the different Brahmanical settlements,\nwhich appear to have been scattered over the country between the Ganges\nand the God\u00e1veri; his wanderings extending from the hill of Chitra-k\u00fa\u1e6da in\nBundelkund, to the modern town of Nasik on the western side of India, near\nthe source of the God\u00e1veri river, and about seventy-five miles to the\nnorth-west of Bombay. The appearance of these Brahmanical hermitages in\nthe country far away to the south of the Raj of Kasala, seems to call for\ncritical inquiry. Each hermitage is said to have belonged to some\nparticular sage, who is famous in Brahmanical tradition. But whether the\nsages named were really contemporaries of R\u00e1ma, or whether they could\npossibly have flourished at one and the same period, is open to serious\nquestion. It is of course impossible to fix with any degree of certainty\nthe relative chronology of the several sages, who are said to have been\nvisited by R\u00e1ma; but still it seems tolerably clear that some belonged to\nan age far anterior to that in which the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana was composed, and\nprobably to an age anterior to that in which R\u00e1ma existed as a real and\nliving personage; whilst, at least, one sage is to be found who could only\nhave existed in the age during which the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana was produced in its\npresent form. The main proofs of these inferences are as follows. An\ninterval of many centuries seems to have elapsed between the composition\nof the Rig-Veda and that of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana: a conclusion which has long been\nproved by the evidence of language, and is generally accepted by Sanskrit\nscholars. But three of the sages, said to have been contemporary with\nR\u00e1ma, namely, Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, Atri and Agastya, are frequently mentioned in\nthe hymns of the Rig-Veda; whilst V\u00e1lm\u00edki, the sage dwelling at\nChitra-k\u00fa\u1e6da, is said to have been himself the composer of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana.\nAgain, the sage Atri, whom R\u00e1ma visited immediately after his departure\nfrom Chitra-k\u00fa\u1e6da, appears in the genealogical list preserved in the Mah\u00e1\nBh\u00e1rata, as the progenitor of the Moon, and consequently as the first\nancestor of the Lunar race: whilst his grandson Buddha [Budha] is said to\nhave married Il\u00e1, the daughter of Ikhsv\u00e1ku who was himself the remote\nancestor of the Solar race of Ayodhy\u00e1, from whom R\u00e1ma was removed by many\ngenerations. These conclusions are not perhaps based upon absolute proof,\nbecause they are drawn from untrustworthy authorities; but still the\nchronological difficulties have been fully apprehended by the Pundits, and\nan attempt has been made to reconcile all contradictions by representing\nthe sages to have lived thousands of years, and to have often re-appeared\nupon earth in different ages widely removed from each other. Modern\nscience refuses to accept such explanations; and consequently it is\nimpossible to escape the conclusion that if V\u00e1lm\u00edki composed the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana\nin the form of Sanskrit in which it has been preserved, he could not have\nflourished in the same age as the sages who are named in the Rig-Veda.\u201d\nWHEELER\u2019S _History of India, Vol._ II, 229.\n\n\n\n\nPage 249.\n\n\n_And King Him\u00e1laya\u2019s Child._\n\nUm\u00e1 or P\u00e1rvat\u00ed, was the daughter of Him\u00e1laya and Men\u00e1. She is the heroine\nof K\u00e1lid\u00e1sa\u2019s _Kum\u00e1ra-Sambhava_ or _Birth of the War-God_.\n\n\n\n\nPage 250.\n\n\n_Strong Kumbhakar\u1e47a slumbering deep_\n_In chains of never-ending sleep._\n\n\u201cKumbhakar\u1e47a, the gigantic brother of the titanic R\u00e1va\u1e47,\u2014named from the\nsize of his ears which could contain a _Kumbha_ or large water-jar\u2014had\nsuch an appetite that he used to consume six months\u2019 provisions in a\nsingle day. Brahm\u00e1, to relieve the alarm of the world, which had begun to\nentertain serious apprehensions of being eaten up, decreed that the giant\nshould sleep six months at a time and wake for only one day during which\nhe might consume his six months\u2019 allowance without trespassing unduly on\nthe reproductive capabilities of the \u201d _Scenes front the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan_, p. 153,\n2nd Edit.\n\n\n\n\nPage 257.\n\n\n_Like \u015aiva when his angry might_\n_Stayed Daksha\u2019s sacrificial rite._\n\nThe following spirited version of this old story is from the pen of Mr. W.\nWaterfield:\n\n\u201cThis is a favorite subject of Hind\u00fa sculpture, especially on the temples\nof Shiva, such as the caves of Elephanta and Ellora. It, no doubt, is an\nallegory of the contest between the followers of Shiva and the worshippers\nof the Elements, who observed the old ritual of the Vedas; in which the\nname of Shiva is never mentioned.\n\nDaksha for devotion\n  Made a mighty feast:\nMilk and curds and butter,\n  Flesh of bird and beast,\nRice and spice and honey,\n  Sweetmeats gh\u00ed and gur,(1038)\nGifts for all the Br\u00e1hmans,\n  Food for all the poor.\nAt the gates of Gang\u00e1(1039)\n  Daksha held his feast;\nCalled the gods unto it,\n  Greatest as the least.\nAll the gods were gathered\n  Round with one accord;\nAll the gods but Um\u00e1,\n  All but Um\u00e1\u2019s lord.\nUm\u00e1 sat with Shiva\n  On Kail\u00e1sa hill:\nRound them stood the Rudras\n  Watching for their will.\nWho is this that cometh\n  Lilting to his lute?\nAll the birds of heaven\n  Heard his music, mute.\nRound his head a garland\n  Rich of hue was wreathed:\nEvery sweetest odour\n  From its blossoms breathed.\n\u2019Tis the Muni N\u00e1rad;\n  \u2019Mong the gods he fares,\nEver making mischief\n  By the tales he bears.\n\u201cHail to lovely Um\u00e1!\n  Hail to Um\u00e1\u2019s lord!\nWherefore are they absent\n  For her father\u2019s board?\nMultiplied his merits\n  Would be truly thrice,\nCould he gain your favour\n  For his sacrifice.\u201d\nWorth of heart was Um\u00e1;\n  To her lord she spake:\u2014\n\u201cWhy dost thou, the mighty,\n  Of no rite partake?\nStraight I speed to Daksha\n  Such a sight to see:\nIf he be my father,\n  He must welcome thee.\u201d\nWondrous was in glory\n  Daksha\u2019s holy rite;\nNever had creation\n  Viewed so brave a sight.\nGods, and nymphs, find fathers,\n  Sages, Br\u00e1hmans, sprites,\u2014\nEvery diverge creature\n  Wrought that rite of rites.\nQuickly then a quaking\n  Fell on all from far;\nUm\u00e1 stood among them\n  On her lion car.\n\u201cGreeting, gods and sages,\n  Greeting, father mine!\nWork hath wondrous virtue,\n  Where such aids combine.\nGuest-hall never gathered\n  Goodlier company:\nSeemeth all are welcome.\n  All the gods but me.\u201d\nSpake the Muni Daksha,\n  Stern and cold his tone:\u2014\n\u201cWelcome thou, too, daughter,\n  Since thou com\u2019st alone.\nBut thy frenzied husband\n  Suits another shrine;\nHe is no partaker\n  Of this feast of mine.\nHe who walks in darkness\n  Loves no deeds of light:\nHe who herds with demons\n  Shuns each kindly sprite.\nLet him wander naked.\u2014\n  Wizard weapons wield,\u2014\nDance his frantic measure\n  Round the funeral field.\nArt thou yet delighted\n  With the reeking hide,\nBody smeared with ashes.\n  Skulls in necklace tied?\nThou to love this monster?\n  Thou to plead his part!\nKnow the moon and Gang\u00e1\n  Share that faithless heart\nVainly art thou vying\n  With thy rivals\u2019 charms.\nAre not coils of serpents\n  Softer than thine arms?\u201d\nWords like these from Daksha\n  Daksha\u2019s daughter heard:\nThen a sudden passion\n  All her bosom stirred.\nEyes with fury flashing.\n  Speechless in her ire,\nHeadlong did she hurl her\n  \u2019Mid the holy fire.\nThen a trembling terror\n  Overcame each one,\nAnd their minds were troubled\n  Like a darkened sun;\nAnd a cruel Vision,\n  Face of lurid flame,\nUm\u00e1\u2019s Wrath incarnate,\n  From the altar came.\nFiendlike forms by thousands\n  Started from his side,\n\u2019Gainst the sacrificers\n  All their might they plied:\nTill the saints availed not\n  Strength like theirs to stay,\nAnd the gods distracted\n  Turned and fled away.\nHushed were hymns and chanting,\n  Priests were mocked and spurned;\nFood defiled and scattered;\n  Altars overturned.\u2014\nThen, to save the object\n  Sought at such a price,\nLike a deer in semblance\n  Sped the sacrifice.\nSoaring toward the heavens,\n  Through the sky it fled?\nBut the Rudras chasing\n  Smote away its head.\nProstrate on the pavement\n  Daksha fell dismayed:\u2014\n\u201cMightiest, thou hast conquered\n  Thee we ask for aid.\nLet not our oblations\n  All be rendered vain;\nLet our toilsome labour\n  Full fruition gain.\u201d\nBright the broken altars\n  Shone with Shiva\u2019s form;\n\u201cBe it so!\u201d His blessing\n  Soothed that frantic storm.\nSoon his anger ceases,\n  Though it soon arise;\u2014\nBut the Deer\u2019s Head ever\n  Blazes in the skies.\u201d\n\n_Indian Ballads and other Poems._\n\n\n\n\nPage 286. Urvas\u00ed.\n\n\n\u201cThe personification of Urvas\u00ee herself is as thin as that of E\u00f4s or\nSel\u00ean\u00ea. Her name is often found in the Veda as a mere name for the\nmorning, and in the plural number it is used to denote the dawns which\npassing over men bring them to old age and death. Urvas\u00ee is the bright\nflush of light overspreading the heaven before the sun rises, and is but\nanother form of the many mythical beings of Greek mythology whose names\ntake us back to the same idea or the same root. As the dawn in the Vedic\nhymns is called Ur\u00fbk\u00ee, the far-going (T\u00ealephassa, T\u00ealephos), so is she\nalso Uruas\u00ee, the wide-existing or wide-spreading; as are Eur\u00f4p\u00ea,\nEuryanassa, Euryphassa, and many more of the sisters of Ath\u00ean\u00ea and\nAphrodit\u00ea. As such she is the mother of Vasishtha, the bright being, as\nOidipous is the son of Iokast\u00ea; and although Vasishtha, like Oidipous, has\nbecome a mortal bard or sage, he is still the son of Mitra and Varu\u1e47a, of\nnight and day. Her lover Pur\u00fbravas is the counterpart of the Hellenic\nPolydeuk\u00eas; but the continuance of her union with him depends on the\ncondition that she never sees him unclothed. But the Gandharvas, impatient\nof her long sojourn among mortal men resolved to bring her back to their\nbright home; and Pur\u00fbravas is thus led unwitingly to disregard her\nwarning. A ewe with two lambs was tied to her couch, and the Gandharvas\nstole one of them; Urvas\u00ee said, \u2018They take away my darling, as if I lived\nin a land where there is no hero and no man.\u2019 They stole the second, and\nshe upbraided her husband again. Then Pur\u00fbravas looked and said, \u2018How can\nthat be a land without heroes or men where I am?\u2019 And naked he sprang up;\nhe thought it was too long to put on his dress. Then the Gandharvas sent a\nflash of lighting, and Urvas\u00ee saw her husband naked as by daylight. Then\nshe vanished. \u2018I come back,\u2019 she said, and went. \u2018Then he bewailed his\nvanished love in bitter grief.\u2019 Her promise to return was fulfilled, but\nfor a moment only, at the Lotos-lake, and Pur\u00fbravas in vain beseeches her\nto tarry longer. \u2018What shall I do with thy speech?\u2019 is the answer of\nUrvas\u00ee. \u2018I am gone like the first of the dawns. Pur\u00fbravas, go home again.\nI am hard to be caught like the winds.\u2019 Her lover is in utter despair; but\nwhen he lies down to die, the heart of Urvas\u00ee was melted, and she bids him\ncome to her on the last night of the year. On that night only he might be\nwith her; but a son should be born to him. On that day he went up to the\ngolden seats, and there Urvas\u00ee told him that the Gandharvas would grant\nhim one wish, and that he must make his choice. \u2018Choose thou for me,\u2019 he\nsaid: and she answered, \u2018Say to them, Let me be one of you.\u2019 \u201d\n\nCOX\u2019S _Mythology of the Aryan Nations._ Vol. I. p. 397.\n\n\n\n\nPage 324.\n\n\n_The sovereign of the V\u00e1nar race._\n\n\u201cV\u00e1nar is one of the most frequently occurring names by which the poem\ncalls the monkeys of R\u00e1ma\u2019s army. Among the two or three derivations of\nwhich the word V\u00e1nar is susceptible, one is that which deduces it from\nvana which signifies a wood, and thus V\u00e1nar would mean a forester, an\ninhabitant of the wood. I have said elsewhere that the monkeys, the\nV\u00e1nars, whom R\u00e1ma led to the conquest of Ceylon were fierce woodland\ntribes who occupied the mountainous regions of the south of India, where\ntheir descendants may still be seen. I shall hence forth promiscuously\nemploy the word _V\u00e1nar_ to denote those monkeys, those fierce combatants\nof R\u00e1ma\u2019s army.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nPage 326.\n\n\n_No change of hue, no pose of limb_\n_Gave sign that aught was false in him._\n_Concise, unfaltering, sweet and clear,_\n_Without a word to pain the ear,_\n_From chest to throat, nor high nor low,_\n_His accents came in measured flow._\n\nSomewhat similarly in _The Squire\u2019s Tale_:\n\n\u201cHe with a manly voice said his message,\nAfter the form used in his language,\nWithouten vice of syllable or of letter.\nAnd for his tal\u00eb should\u00eb seem the better\nAccordant to his word\u00ebs was his chere,\nAs teacheth art of speech them that it lere.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPage 329. R\u00e1ma\u2019s Alliance With Sugr\u00edva.\n\n\n\u201cThe literal interpretation of this portion of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana is indeed\ndeeply rooted in the mind of the Hindu. He implicitly believes that R\u00e1ma\nis Vishnu, who became incarnate for the purpose of destroying the demon\nR\u00e1vana: that he permitted his wife to be captured by R\u00e1vana for the sake\nof delivering the gods and Br\u00e1hmans from the oppressions of the R\u00e1kshasa;\nand that he ultimately assembled an army of monkeys, who were the progeny\nof the gods, and led them against the strong-hold of R\u00e1vana at Lank\u00e1, and\ndelivered the world from the tyrant R\u00e1kshasa, whilst obtaining ample\nrevenge for his own personal wrongs.\n\nOne other point seems to demand consideration, namely, the possibility of\nsuch an alliance as that which R\u00e1ma is said to have concluded with the\nmonkeys. This possibility will of course be denied by modern critics, but\nstill it is interesting to trace out the circumstances which seem to have\nled to the acceptance of such a wild belief by the dreamy and marvel\nloving Hindi. The south of India swarms with monkeys of curious\nintelligence and rare physical powers. Their wonderful instinct for\norganization, their attachment to particular localities, their occasional\njourneys in large numbers over mountains and across rivers, their\nobstinate assertion of supposed rights, and the ridiculous caricature\nwhich they exhibit of all that is animal and emotional in man, would\nnaturally create a deep impression.\u2026 Indeed the habits of monkeys well\ndeserve to be patiently studied; not as they appear in confinement, when\nmuch that is revolting in their nature is developed, but as they appear\nliving in freedom amongst the trees of the forest, or in the streets of\ncrowded cities, or precincts of temples. Such a study would not fail to\nawaken strange ideas; and although the European would not be prepared to\nregard monkeys as sacred animals he might be led to speculate as to their\norigin by the light of data, which are at present unknown to the\nnaturalist whose observations have been derived from the menagerie alone.\n\nWhatever, however, may have been the train of ideas which led the Hind\u00fa to\nregard the monkey as a being half human and half divine, there can be\nlittle doubt that in the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana the monkeys of southern India have been\nconfounded with what may be called the aboriginal people of the country.\nThe origin of this confusion may be easily conjectured. Perchance the\naborigines of the country may have been regarded as a superior kind of\nmonkeys; and to this day the features of the Marawars, who are supposed to\nbe the aborigines of the southern part of the Carnatic, are not only\ndifferent from those of their neighbours, but are of a character\ncalculated to confirm the conjecture. Again, it is probable that the army\nof aborigines may have been accompanied by outlying bands of monkeys\nimpelled by that magpie-like curiosity and love of plunder which are the\npeculiar characteristics of the monkey race; and this incident may have\ngiven rise to the story that the army was composed of Monkeys.\u201d\n\nWHEELER\u2019S _History of India. Vol. II. pp. 316 ff._\n\n\n\n\nPage 342. The Fall Of B\u00e1li.\n\n\n\u201cAs regards the narrative, it certainly seems to refer to some real event\namongst the aboriginal tribes: namely, the quarrel between an elder and\nyounger brother for the possession of a R\u00e1j; and the subsequent alliance\nof R\u00e1ma with the younger brother. It is somewhat remarkable that R\u00e1ma\nappears to have formed an alliance with the wrong party, for the right of\nB\u00e1li was evidently superior to that of Sugr\u00edva; and it is especially\nworthy of note that R\u00e1ma compassed the death of B\u00e1li by an act contrary to\nall the laws of fair fighting. Again, R\u00e1ma seems to have tacitly\nsanctioned the transfer of T\u00e1r\u00e1 from B\u00e1li to Sugr\u00edva, which was directly\nopposed to modern rule, although in conformity with the rude customs of a\nbarbarous age; and it is remarkable that to this day the marriage of both\nwidows and divorced women is practised by the Marawars, or aborigines of\nthe southern Carnatic, contrary to the deeply-rooted prejudice which\nexists against such unions amongst the Hind\u00fas at large.\u201d\n\nWHEELER\u2019S _History of India, Vol. II. 324_.\n\n\n\n\nPage 370. The V\u00e1nar Host.\n\n\n\u201cThe splendid Marutas form the army of Indras, the red-haired monkeys and\nbears that of R\u00e2mas; and the mythical and solar nature of the monkeys and\nbears of the R\u00e2m\u00e2ya\u1e47am manifests itself several times. The king of the\nmonkeys is a sun-god. The ancient king was named B\u00e2lin, and was the son of\nIndras. His younger brother Sugr\u00edvas, he who changes his shape at pleasure\n(K\u00e2mar\u00fapas), who, helped by R\u00e2mas, usurped his throne, is said to be own\nchild of the sun. Here it is evident that the Vedic antagonism between\nIndras and Vish\u1e47us is reproduced in a zoological and entirely apish form.\nThe old Zeus must give way to the new, the moon to the sun, the evening to\nthe morning sun, the sun of winter to that of spring; the young son\nbetrays and overthrows the old one.\u2026 R\u00e2mas, who treacherously kills the\nold king of the monkeys, B\u00e2lin, is the equivalent of Vish\u1e47us, who hurls\nhis predecessor Indras from his throne; and Sugr\u00edvas, the new king of the\nmonkeys resembles Indras when he promises to find the ravished S\u00edt\u00e1, in\nthe same way as Vish\u1e47us in one of his incarnations finds again the lost\nved\u00e1s. And there are other indications in the R\u00e2m\u00e2ya\u1e47am of opposition\nbetween Indras and the monkeys who assist R\u00e2mas. The great monkey\nHanumant, of the reddish colour of gold, has his jaw broken, Indras having\nstruck him with his thunderbolt and caused him to fall upon a mountain,\nbecause, while yet a child, he threw himself off a mountain into the air\nin order to arrest the course of the sun, whose rays had no effect upon\nhim. (The cloud rises from the mountain and hides the sun, which is unable\nof itself to disperse it; the tempest comes, and brings flashes of\nlightning and thunder-bolts, which tear the cloud in pieces.)\n\nThe whole legend of the monkey Hanumant represents the sun entering into\nthe cloud or darkness, and coming out of it. His father is said to be now\nthe wind, now the elephant of the monkeys (Kapikunjaras), now Ke\u015barin, the\nlong-haired sun, the sun with a mane, the lion sun (whence his name of\n_Ke\u015bari\u1e47ah putrah_). From this point of view, Hanumant would seem to be\nthe brother of Sugr\u00edvas, who is also the offspring of the sun.\u2026\n\nAll the epic monkeys of the _R\u00e2m\u00e2ya\u1e47am_ are described in the twentieth\ncanto of the first book by expressions which very closely resemble those\napplied in the Vedic hymns to the Marutas, as swift as the tempestuous\nwind, changing their shape at pleasure, making a noise like clouds,\nsounding like thunder, battling, hurling mountain-peaks, shaking great\nuprooted trees, stirring up the deep waters, crushing the earth with their\narms, making the clouds fall. Thus B\u00e2lin comes out of the cavern as the\nsun out of the cloud.\u2026\n\nBut the legend of the monkey Hanumant presents another curious resemblance\nto that of Samson. Hanumant is bound with cords by Indrajit, son of\nR\u00e1va\u1e47as; he could easily free himself, but does not wish to do so. R\u00e1va\u1e47as\nto put him to shame, orders his tail to be burned, because the tail is the\npart most prized by monkeys.\u2026\n\nThe tail of Hanumant, which sets fire to the city of the monsters, is\nprobably a personification of the rays of the morning or spring sun, which\nsets fire to the eastern heavens, and destroys the abode of the nocturnal\nor winter monsters.\u201d\n\nDE GUBERNATIS, _Zoological Mythology_, Vol. II. pp. 100 ff.\n\n\u201cThe Jaitwas of Rajputana, a tribe politically reckoned as Rajputs,\nnevertheless trace their descent from the monkey-god Hanuman, and confirm\nit by alleging that their princes still bear its evidence in a tail-like\nprolongation of the spine; a tradition which has probably a real\nethnological meaning, pointing out the Jaitwas as of non-Aryan\nrace.\u201d(1040) TYLOR\u2019S _Primitive Culture_, Vol. I. p. 341.\n\n\n\n\nPage 372.\n\n\nThe names of peoples occurring in the following _\u015blokas_ are omitted in\nthe metrical translation:\n\n\u201cGo to the Brahmam\u00e1las,(1041) the Videhas,(1042) the M\u00e1lavas,(1043) the\nK\u00e1\u015biko\u015balas,(1044) the M\u00e1gadnas,(1045) the Pu\u1e47\u1e0dras,(1046) and the\nAngas,(1047) and the land of the weavers of silk, and the land of the\nmines of silver, and the hills that stretch into the sea, and the towns\nand the hamlets that are about the top of Mandar, and the\nKar\u1e47apr\u00e1vara\u1e47as,(1048) and the Osh\u1e6dhakar\u1e47akas,(1049) and the\nGhoralohamukhas,(1050) and the swift Ekap\u00e1dakas,(1051) and the strong\nimperishable Eaters of Men, and the Kir\u00e1tas(1052) with stiff hair-tufts,\nmen like gold and fair to look upon: And the Eaters of Raw Fish, and the\nKir\u00e1tas who dwell in islands, and the fierce Tiger-men(1053) who live amid\nthe waters.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPage 374.\n\n\n\u201cGo to the Vidarbhas(1054) and the Rish\u1e6dikas(1055) and the\nMahishikas,(1056) and the Matsyas(1057) and Kalingas(1058) and the\nKau\u015bikas(1059) \u2026 and the Andhras(1060) and the Pu\u1e47\u1e0dras(1061) and the\nCholas(1062) and the Pa\u1e47\u1e0dyas(1063) and the Keralas,(1064) Mlechchhas(1065)\nand the Pulindas(1066) and the \u015a\u00farasenas,(1067) and the Prasthalas and the\nBharatas and Madrakas(1068) and the K\u00e1mbojas(1069) and the Yavanas(1070)\nand the towns of the \u015aakas(1071) and the Varadas.\u201d(1072)\n\n\n\n\nPage 378. Northern Kurus.\n\n\nProfessor Lassen remarks in the Zeitschrift f\u00fcr die Kunde des\nMorgenlandes, ii. 62: \u201cAt the furthest accessible extremity of the earth\nappears Harivarsha with the northern Kurus. The region of Hari or Vish\u1e47u\nbelongs to the system of mythical geography; but the case is different\nwith the Uttara Kurus. Here there is a real basis of geographical fact; of\nwhich fable has only taken advantage, without creating it. The Uttara\nKurus were formerly quite independent of the mythical system of _dv\u00edpas_,\nthough they were included in it at an early date.\u201d Again the same writer\nsays at p. 65: \u201cThat the conception of the Uttara Kurus is based upon an\nactual country and not on mere invention, is proved (1) by the way in\nwhich they are mentioned in the Vedas; (2) by the existence of Uttara Kuru\nin historical times as a real country; and (3) by the way in which the\nlegend makes mention of that region as the home of primitive customs. To\nbegin with the last point the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata speaks as follows of the freer\nmode of life which women led in the early world, Book I. verses 4719-22:\n\u2018Women were formerly unconfined and roved about at their pleasure,\nindependent. Though in their youthful innocence they abandoned their\nhusbands, they were guilty of no offence; for such was the rule in early\ntimes. This ancient custom is even now the law for creatures born as\nbrutes, which are free from lust and anger. This custom is supported by\nauthority and is observed by great rishis, and it is _still practiced\namong the northern Kurus_.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe idea which is here conveyed is that of the continuance in one part of\nthe world of that original blessedness which prevailed in the golden age.\nTo afford a conception of the happy condition of the southern Kurus it is\nsaid in another place (M.-Bh, i. 4346.) \u2018The southern Kurus vied in\nhappiness with the northern Kurus and with the divine rishis and bards.\u2019\n\nProfessor Lassen goes on to say: \u2018Ptolemy (vi. 16.) is also acquainted\nwith _Uttara Kuru_. He speaks of a mountain, a people, and a city called\n_Ottorakorra_. Most of the other ancient authors who elsewhere mention\nthis name, have it from him. It is a part of the country which he calls\nSerica; according to him the city lies twelve degrees west from the\nmetropolis of Sera, and the mountain extends from thence far to the\neastward. As Ptolemy has misplaced the whole of eastern Asia beyond the\nGanges, the _relative_ position which he assigns will guide us better that\nthe absolute one, which removes _Ottorakorra_ so far to the east that a\ncorrection is inevitable. According to my opinion the _Ottorakorra_ of\nPtolemy must be sought for to the east of Kashgar.\u2019 Lassen also thinks\nthat Magasthenes had the Uttara Kurus in view when he referred to the\nHyperboreans who were fabled by Indian writers to live a thousand years.\nIn his Indian antiquities, (Ind. Alterthumskunde, i. 511, 512. and note,)\nthe same writer concludes that though the passages above cited relative to\nthe Uttara Kurus indicate a belief in the existence of a really existing\ncountry of that name in the far north, yet that the descriptions there\ngiven are to be taken as pictures of an ideal paradise, and not as founded\non any recollections of the northern origin of the Kurus. It is probable,\nhe thinks, that some such reminiscences originally existed, and still\nsurvived in the Vedic era, though there is no trace of their existence in\nlatter times.\u201d MUIR\u2019S _Sanskrit Texts_, Vol. II. pp. 336, 337.\n\n\n\n\nPage 428.\n\n\n_Trust to these mighty V\u00e1nars._\n\nThe corresponding passage in the Bengal recension has \u201cthese silvans in\nthe forms of monkeys, v\u00e1nar\u00e1h kapirupinah.\u201d \u201cHere it manifestly appears,\u201d\nsays Gorresio, \u201cthat these hosts of combatants whom R\u00e1ma led to the\nconquest of Lank\u00e1 (Ceylon) the kingdom and seat of the Hamitic race, and\nwhom the poem calls monkeys, were in fact as I have elsewhere observed,\ninhabitants of the mountainous and southern regions of India, who were\nwild-looking and not altogether unlike monkeys. They were perhaps the\nremote ancestors of the Malay races.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPage 431.\n\n\n_\"Art thou not he who slew of old_\n_The Serpent-Gods, and stormed their hold.\"_\n\nAll these exploits of R\u00e1va\u1e47 are detailed in the _Uttarak\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_, and\nepitomized in the Appendix.\n\n\n\n\nPage 434.\n\n\n_Within the consecrated hall_.\n\nThe Br\u00e1hman householder ought to maintain three sacred fires, the\n_G\u00e1rhapatya_, the _Ahavaniya_ and the _Dakshi\u1e47a_. These three fires were\nmade use of in many Brahmanical solemnities, for example in funeral rites\nwhen the three fires were arranged in prescribed order.\n\n\n\n\nPage 436.\n\n\n_Fair Punjikasthal\u00e1 I met._\n\n\u201cI have not noticed in the \u00dattara K\u00e1\u1e47da any story about the daughter of\nVaru\u1e47a, but the commentator on the text (VI 60, 11) explains the allusion\nto her thus:\n\n\u201cThe daughter of Varu\u1e47a was Punjikasthal\u00ed. On her account, a curse of\nBrahm\u00e1, involving the penalty of death, [was pronounced] on the rape of\nwomen.\u201d MUIR, _Sanskrit Texts_, Part IV. Appendix.\n\n\n\n\nPage 452.\n\n\n_\u201c__Shall no funereal honours grace_\n_The parted lord of Raghu\u2019s race?__\u201d_\n\n\u201cHere are indicated those admirable rites and those funeral prayers which\nProfessor M\u00fcller has described in his excellent work, _Die\nTodtenbestattung bei den Brahmanen_, S\u00edt\u00e1 laments that the body of R\u00e1ma\nwill not be honoured with those rites and prayers, nor will the Br\u00e1hman\npriest while laying the ashes from the pile in the bosom of the earth,\npronounce over them those solemn and magnificent words: \u2018Go unto the\nearth, thy mother, the ample, wide, and blessed earth.\u2026 And do thou, O\nEarth, open and receive him as a friend with sweet greeting: enfold him in\nthy bosom as a mother wraps her child in her robes.\u2019 \u201d GORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nPage 462.\n\n\n                _Each glorious sign_\n_That stamps the future queen is mine_.\n\nWe read in Josephus that Caesar was so well versed in chiromancy that when\none day a _soi-disant_ son of Herod had audience of him, he at once\ndetected the impostor because his hand was destitute of all marks of\nroyalty.\n\n\n\n\nPage 466.\n\n\n_In battle\u2019s wild Gandharva dance_.\n\n\u201cHere the commentator explains: \u2018the battle resembled the dance of the\nGandharvas,\u2019 in accordance with the notion of the Gandharvas entertained\nin his day. They were regarded as celestial musicians enlivening with\ntheir melodies Indra\u2019s heaven and the banquets of the Gods. But the\nGandharvas before becoming celestial musicians in popular tradition, were\nin the primitive and true signification of the name heroes, spirited and\nardent warriors, followers of Indra, and combined the heroical character\nwith their atmospherical deity. Under this aspect the dance of the\nGandharvas may be a very different thing from what the commentator means,\nand may signify the horrid dance of war.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\nThe Homeric expression is similar, \u201cto dance a war-dance before Ares.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPage 470.\n\n\n_By Anara\u1e47ya\u2019s lips of old._\n\n\u201cThe story of Anara\u1e47ya is told in the Uttara Ka\u1e47\u1e0da of the R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a.\u2026\nAnara\u1e47ya a descendant of Ixv\u00e1ku and King of Ayodhy\u00e1, when called upon to\nfight with R\u00e1va\u1e47a or acknowledge himself conquered, prefers the former\nalternative; but his army is overcome, and he himself is thrown from his\nchariot.\n\nWhen R\u00e1va\u1e47a triumphs over his prostrate foe, the latter says that he has\nbeen vanquished not by him but by fate, and that R\u00e1va\u1e47a is only the\ninstrument of his overthrow; and he predicts that R\u00e1va\u1e47a shall one day be\nslain by his descendant R\u00e1ma.\u201d _Sanskrit Texts_, IV., Appendix.\n\n\n\n\nPage 497.\n\n\n\u201cWith regard to the magic image of S\u00edt\u00e1 made by Indrajit, we may observe\nthat this thoroughly oriental idea is also found in Greece in Homer\u2019s\nIliad, where Apollo forms an image of \u00c6neas to save that hero beloved by\nthe Gods: it occurs too in the \u00c6neid of Virgil where Juno forms a\nfictitious \u00c6neas to save Turnus:\n\n  Tum dea nube cava tenuem sine viribus umbram\nIn faciem \u00c6ne\u00e6 (visu mirabile monstrum)\nDardaniis ornat telis; clipeumque jubasque\nDivini assimulat capitis; dat inania verba;\nDat sine mente sonum, gressusque effingit euntis.\n\n(_\u00c6neidos_, lib. X.)\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nPage 489.\n\n\n_\"To Raghu\u2019s son my chariot lend.\"_\n\n\u201cAnalogous to this passage of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yana, where Indra sends to R\u00e1ma his\nown chariot, his own charioteer, and his own arms, is the passage in the\n\u00c6neid where Venus descending from heaven brings celestial arms to her son\n\u00c6neas when he is about to enter the battle:\n\n  At Venus \u00e6thereos inter dea candida nimbos\nDona fereus aderat;\u2026\n\u2026\nArma sub adversa posuit radiantia quercum.\nIlle, de\u00e6 donis et tanto l\u00e6tus honore,\nExpleri nequit, atque oculus per singula volvit,\nMiraturque, interque manus et brachia versat\nTerribilem cristis galeam flammasque vomentem,\nFatiferumque ensem, loricam ex \u00e6re rigentem.\n\n(_\u00c6neidos_, lib. VIII)\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n\n\n\nPage 489.\n\n\n_Agastya came and gently spake._\n\n\u201cThe Muni or saint Agastya, author of several Vedic hymns, was celebrated\nin Indo-Sanskrit tradition for having directed the first brahmanical\nsettlements in the southern regions of India; and the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata gives\nhim the credit of having subjected those countries, expelled the\nR\u00e1kshases. and given security to the solitary ascetics, who were settled\nthere. Hence Agastya was regarded in ancient legend as the conqueror and\nruler of the southern country. This tradition refers to the earliest\nmigrations made by the Sanskrit Indians towards the south of India. To\nAgastya are attributed many marvellous mythic deeds which adumbrate and\nveil ancient events; some of which are alluded to here and there in the\nR\u00e1m\u00e1yana.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\nThe following is the literal translation of the Canto, text and\ncommentary, from the Calcutta edition:\n\nHaving found R\u00e1ma weary with fighting and buried in deep thought, and\nR\u00e1va\u1e47 standing before him ready to engage in battle, the holy Agastya, who\nhad come to see the battle, approached R\u00e1ma and spoke to him thus: \u201cO\nmighty R\u00e1ma, listen to the old mystery by which thou wilt conquer all thy\nfoes in the battle. Having daily repeated the \u00c1dityahridaya (the delighter\nof the mind of the Sun) the holy prayer which destroys all enemies (of him\nwho repeats it) gives victory, removes all sins, sorrows and distress,\nincreases life, and which is the blessing of all blessings, worship the\nrising and splendid sun who is respected by both the Gods and demons, who\ngives light to all bodies and who is the rich lord of all the worlds, (To\nthe question why this prayer claims so great reverence; the sage answers)\nSince yonder(1073) sun is full of glory and all gods reside in him (he\nbeing their material cause) and bestows being and the active principle on\nall creatures by his rays; and since he protects all deities, demons and\nmen with his rays.\n\nHe is Brahm\u00e1,(1074) Vish\u1e47u,(1075) \u015aiva,(1076) Skanda,(1077)\nPraj\u00e1pati,(1078) Mahendra,(1079) Dhanada,(1080) K\u00e1la,(1081) Y\u00e1ma,(1082)\nSoma,(1083) Ap\u00e0m Pati _i.e._ The lord of waters, Pitris,(1084)\nVasus,(1085) S\u00e1dhyas,(1086) A\u015bvins,(1087) Maruts,(1088) Manu,(1089)\nV\u00e1yu,(1090) Vahni,(1091) Praj\u00e1,(1092) Pr\u00e1\u1e47a,(1093) Ritukart\u00e1,(1094)\nPrabh\u00e1kara,(1095) (Thou,(1096) art) Aditya,(1097) Savit\u00e1,(1098)\nS\u00farya,(1099) Khaga,(1100) P\u00fashan,(1101) Gabhastim\u00e1n,(1102)\n\u015auvar\u1e47asadri\u015ba,(1103) Bh\u00e1nu,(1104) Hira\u1e47yaretas,(1105) Div\u00e1kara,(1106)\nHarida\u015bva,(1107) Sahasr\u00e1rchish,(1108) Saptasapti,(1109) Marichim\u00e1n,(1110)\nTimironmathana,(1111) Sambhu,(1112) Twasht\u00e1,(1113) M\u00e1rtanda,(1114)\nAn\u015bum\u00e1n,(1115) Hiranyagarbha,(1116) Si\u015bira,(1117) Tapana,(1118)\nAhaskara,(1119) Ravi,(1120) Agnigarbha,(1121) Aditiputra,(1122)\nSankha,(1123) Si\u015biran\u00e1\u015bana,(1124) Vyoman\u00e1tha,(1125) Tamobhed\u00ed,(1126)\nRigyajuss\u00e1map\u00e1raga,(1127) Ghanavr\u00edshti,(1128) Ap\u00e1m-Mitra,(1129)\nVindhyav\u00edth\u00edplavangama,(1130) \u00c1tap\u00ed,(1131) Mandal\u00ed,(1132) Mrityu (death),\nPingala,(1133) Sarvat\u00e1pana,(1134) Kavi,(1135) Vi\u015bva,(1136)\nMah\u00e1tejas,(1137) Rakta,(1138) Sarvabhavodbhava.(1139) The Lord of stars,\nplanets, and other luminous bodies, Vi\u015bvabh\u00e1vana,(1140)\nTejasvin\u00e1m-Tejasvi,(1141) Dw\u00e1da\u015b\u00e1tman:(1142) I salute thee. I salute thee\nwho art the eastern mountain. I salute thee who art the western mountain.\nI salute thee who art the Lord of all the luminous bodies. I salute thee\nwho art the Lord of days.\n\nI respectfully salute thee who art Jaya,(1143) Jayabhadra,(1144)\nHarya\u015ba,(1145) O Thou who hast a thousand rays, I repeatedly salute thee.\nI repeatedly and respectfully salute thee who art \u00c1ditya, I repeatedly\nsalute thee who art Ugra,(1146) V\u00edra,(1147) and S\u00e1ranga.(1148) I salute\nthee who openest the lotuses (or the lotus of the heart). I salute thee\nwho art furious. I salute thee who art the Lord of Brahm\u00e1, \u015aiva and\nVish\u1e47u. I salute thee who art the sun, \u00c1dityavarchas,(1149) splendid,\nSarvabhaksha,(1150)and Raudravapush.(1151)\n\nI salute thee who destroyest darkness, cold and enemies: whose form is\nboundless, who art the destroyer of the ungrateful; who art Deva;(1152)\nwho art the Lord of the luminous bodies, and who appearest like the heated\ngold. I salute thee who art Hari,(1153) Vi\u015bvakarman,(1154) the destroyer\nof darkness, and who art splendid and Lokas\u00e1kshin.(1155) Yonder sun\ndestroys the whole of the material world and also creates it. Yonder sun\ndries (all earthly things), destroys them and causes rain with his rays.\nHe wakes when our senses are asleep; and resides within all beings. Yonder\nsun is Agnihotra(1156) and also the fruit obtained by the performer of\nAgnihotra. He is identified with the gods, sacrifices, and the fruit of\nthe sacrifices. He is the Lord of all the duties known to the world, if\nany man, O R\u00e1ghava, in calamities, miseries, forests and dangers, prays to\nyonder sun, he is never overwhelmed by distress.\n\nWorship, with close attention Him the God of gods and the Lord of the\nworld; and recite these verses thrice, whereby thou wilt be victorious in\nthe battle. O brave one, thou wilt kill R\u00e1va\u1e47a this very instant.\u201d\n\nThereupon Agastya having said this went away as he came. The glorious R\u00e1ma\nhaving heard this became free from sorrow. R\u00e1ghava whose senses were under\ncontrol, being pleased, committed the hymn to memory, recited it facing\nthe sun, and obtained great delight. The brave R\u00e1ma having sipped water\nthrice and become pure took his bow, and seeing R\u00e1va\u1e47a, was delighted, and\nmeditated on the sun.\n\n\n\n\nPage 492. R\u00e1van\u2019s Funeral.\n\n\n\u201cIn the funeral ceremonies of India the fire was placed on three sides of\nthe pyre; the _Dakshi\u1e47a_ on the south, the _G\u00e1rhapatya_ on the west, and\nthe _\u00c1havan\u00edya_ on the east. The funeral rites are not described in detail\nhere, and it is therefore difficult to elucidate and explain them. The\npoem assigns the funeral ceremonies of Aryan Brahmans to the R\u00e1kshases, a\nrace different from them in origin and religion, in the same way as Homer\nsometimes introduces into Troy the rites of the Grecian cult.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\nMr. Muir translates the description of the funeral from the Calcutta\nedition, as follows: \u201cThey formed, with Vedic rites, a funeral pile of\nfaggots of sandal-wood, with _padmaka_ wood, _u\u015bira_ grass, and sandal,\nand covered with a quilt of deer\u2019s hair. They then performed an unrivalled\nobsequial ceremony for the R\u00e1xasa prince, placing the sacrificial ground\nto the S.E. and the fire in the proper situation. They cast the ladle\nfilled with curds and ghee on the shoulder(1157) of the deceased; he (?)\nplaced the car on the feet, and the mortar between the thighs. Having\ndeposited all the wooden vessels, the [upper] and lower fire-wood, and the\nother pestle, in their proper places, they departed. The R\u00e1xasas having\nthen slain a victim to their prince in the manner prescribed in the\n\u015a\u00e1stras, and enjoined by great rishis, cast [into the fire] the coverlet\nof the king saturated with ghee. They then, Vibh\u00edsha\u1e47a included, with\nafflicted hearts, adorned R\u00e1va\u1e47a with perfumes and garlands, and with\nvarious vestments, and besprinkled him with fried grain. Vibh\u00edsha\u1e47a having\nbathed, and having, with his clothes wet, scattered in proper form _tila_\nseeds mixed with _darbha_ grass, and moistened with water, applied the\nfire [to the pile].\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPage 496.\n\n\nThe following is a literal translation of Brahm\u00e1\u2019s address to R\u00e1ma\naccording to the Calcutta edition, text and commentary:\n\n\u201cO R\u00e1ma, how dost thou, being the creator of all the world, best of all\nthose who have profound knowledge of the Upanishads and all-powerful as\nthou art, suffer S\u00edt\u00e1 to fall in the fire? How dost thou not know thyself\nas the best of the gods? Thou art one of the primeval Vasus,(1158) and\nalso their lord and creator. Thou art thyself the lord and first creator\nof the three worlds. Thou art the eighth (that is Mah\u00e1deva) of the\nRudras,(1159) and also the fifth(1160) of the S\u00e1dhyas.(1161) (The poet\ndescribes R\u00e1ma as made of the following gods) The A\u015bvinikum\u00e1ras (the twin\ndivine physicians of the gods) are thy ears; the sun and the moon are thy\neyes; and thou hast been seen in the beginning and at the end of creation.\nHow dost thou neglect the daughter of Videha (Janaka} like a man whose\nactions are directed by the dictates of nature?\u201d Thus addressed by Indra,\nBrahm\u00e1 and the other gods, R\u00e1ma the descendant of Raghu, lord of the world\nand the best of the virtuous, spoke to the chief of the gods. \u201cAs I take\nmyself to be a man of the name of R\u00e1ma and son of Da\u015baratha, therefore,\nsir, please tell me who I am and whence have I come.\u201d \u201cO thou whose might\nis never failing,\u201d said Brahm\u00e1 to K\u00e1kutstha the foremost of those who\nthoroughly know Brahm\u00e1, \u201cThou art N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47a,(1162) almighty, possessed of\nfortune, and armed with the discus. Thou art the boar(1163) with one tusk;\nthe conqueror of thy past and future foes. Thou art Brahm\u00e1 true and\neternal or undecaying. Thou art Vi\u015bvaksena,(1164) having four arms; Thou\nart Hrish\u00edke\u015ba,(1165) whose bow is made of horn; Thou art Purusha,(1166)\nthe best of all beings; Thou art one who is never defeated by any body;\nThou art the holder of the sword (named Nandaka). Thou art Vish\u1e47u (the\npervader of all); blue in colour: of great might; the commander of armies;\nand lord of villages. Thou art truth. Thou art embodied intelligence,\nforgiveness, control over the senses, creation, and destruction. Thou art\nUpendra(1167) and Madhus\u00fadana.(1168) Thou art the creator of Indra, the\nruler over all the world, Padman\u00e1bha,(1169) and destroyer of enemies in\nthe battle. The divine Rishis call thee shelter of refugees, as well as\nthe giver of shelter. Thou hast a thousand horns,(1170) a hundred\nheads.(1171) Thou art respected of the respected; and the lord and first\ncreator of the three worlds. Thou art the forefather and shelter of\nSiddhas,(1172) and S\u00e1dhyas.(1173) Thou art sacrifices; Vasha\u1e6dk\u00e1ra,(1174)\nOmk\u00e1ra.(1175) Thou art beyond those who are beyond our senses. There is\nnone who knows who thou art and who knows thy beginning and end. Thou art\nseen in all material objects, in Br\u00e1hmans, in cows, and also in all the\nquarters, sky and streams. Thou hast a thousand feet, a hundred heads, and\na thousand eyes. Thou hast borne the material objects and the earth with\nthe mountains; and at the bottom of the ocean thou art seen the great\nserpent. O R\u00e1ma, Thou hast borne the three worlds, gods, Gandharvas,(1176)\nand demons. I am, O R\u00e1ma, thy heart; the goddess of learning is thy\ntongue; the gods are the hairs of thy body; the closing of thy eyelids is\ncalled the night: and their opening is called the day. The Vedas are thy\nSansk\u00e1ras.(1177) Nothing can exist without thee. The whole world is thy\nbody; the surface of the earth is thy stability.\u201d\n\nO \u015ar\u00edvatsalaksha\u1e47a, fire is thy anger, and the moon is thy favour. In the\ntime of thy incarnation named V\u00e1mana, thou didst pervade the three worlds\nwith thy three steps; and Mahendra was made the king of paradise by thee\nhaving confined the fearful Bali.(1178) S\u00edt\u00e1 (thy wife) is Lakshm\u00ed; and\nthou art the God Vish\u1e47u,(1179) Krish\u1e47a,(1180) and Praj\u00e1pati. To kill R\u00e1va\u1e47\nthou hast assumed the form of a man; therefore, O best of the virtuous,\nthou hast completed this task imposed by us (gods). O R\u00e1ma, R\u00e1va\u1e47a has\nbeen killed by thee: now being joyful (i.e. having for some time reigned\nin the kingdom of Ayodhy\u00e1,) go to paradise. O glorious R\u00e1ma, thy power and\nthy valour are never failing. The visit to thee and the prayers made to\nthee are never fruitless. Thy devotees will never be unsuccessful. Thy\ndevotees who obtain thee (thy favour) who art first and best of mankind,\nshall obtain their desires in this world as well as in the next. They who\nrecite this prayer, founded on the Vedas (or first uttered by the sages),\nand the old and divine account of (R\u00e1ma) shall never suffer defeat.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPage 503. The Meeting.\n\n\nThe _Bharat-Mil\u00e1p_ or meeting with Bharat, is the closing scene of the\ndramatic representation of R\u00e1ma\u2019s great victory and triumphant return\nwhich takes place annually in October in many of the cities of Northern\nIndia. The R\u00e1m-Lal\u00e1 or Play of R\u00e1ma, as the great drama is called, is\nperformed in the open air and lasts with one day\u2019s break through fifteen\nsuccessive days. At Benares there are three nearly simultaneous\nperformances, one provided by H. H. the Maharajah of Benares near his\npalace at Ramnaggur, one by H. H. the Maharajah of Vizianagram near the\nMissionary settlement at Sigra and at other places in the city, and one by\nthe leading gentry of the city at Chowk\u00e1 Gh\u00e1t near the College. The scene\nespecially on the great day when the brothers meet is most interesting:\nthe procession of elephants with their gorgeous howdahs of silver and gold\nand their magnificently dressed riders with priceless jewels sparkling in\ntheir turbans, the enthusiasm of the thousands of spectators who fill the\nstreets and squares, the balconies and the housetops, the flowers that are\nrained down upon the advancing car, the wild music, the shouting and the\njoy, make an impression that is not easily forgotten.\n\n_Still on his head, well trained in lore_\n_Of duty, R\u00e1ma\u2019s shoes he bore._\n\nR\u00e1ma\u2019s shoes are here regarded as the emblems of royalty or possession. We\nmay compare the Hebrew \u201cOver Edom will I cast forth my shoe.\u201d A curiously\nsimilar passage occurs in LYSCHANDER\u2019S _Chronicon Greenlandi\u00e6 Rhythmicon_:\n\n\u201cHan sendte til Irland sin skiden skoe,\nOg b\u00f6d den Konge. Som der monne boe,\nHan skulde dem h\u00e6derlig b\u00e6re\nPan Juuledag i sin kongelig Pragt,\nOg kjende han havde sit Rige og Magt\nAf Norges og Quernes Herre.\u201d\n\nHe sent to Ireland his dirty shoes,\nAnd commanded the king who lived there\nTo wear them with honour\nOn Christmas Day in his royal state,\nAnd to own that he had his kingdom and power\nFrom the Lord of Norway and the Isles.\n_Notes & Queries, March 30, 1872._\n\n\n\n\nFinal Notes.\n\n\nI end these notes with an extract which I translate from Signor Gorresio\u2019s\nPreface to the tenth volume of his R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, and I take this opportunity of\nagain thankfully acknowledging my great obligations to this eminent\n\u015aanskritist from whom I have so frequently borrowed. As Mr. Muir has\nobserved, the Bengal recension which Signor Gorresio has most ably edited\nis throughout an admirable commentary on the genuine R\u00e1m\u00e1yan of northern\nIndia, and I have made constant reference to the faithful and elegant\ntranslation which accompanies the text for assistance and confirmation in\ndifficulties:\n\n\u201cTowards the southern extremity and in the island of Lank\u00e1 (Ceylon) there\nexisted undoubtedly a black and ferocious race, averse to the Aryans and\nhostile to their mode of worship: their ramifications extended through the\nislands of the Archipelago, and some traces of them remain in Java to this\nday.\n\nThe Sanskrit-Indians, applying to this race a name expressive of hatred\nwhich occurs in the Vedas as the name of hostile, savage and detested\nbeings, called it the R\u00e1kshas race: it is against these R\u00e1kshases that the\nexpedition of R\u00e1ma which the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan celebrates is directed. The\nSanskrit-Indians certainly altered in their traditions the real character\nof this race: they attributed to it physical and moral qualities not found\nin human nature; they transformed it into a race of giants; they\nrepresented it as monstrous, hideous, truculent, changing forms at will,\nblood-thirsty and ravenous, just as the Semites represented the races that\nopposed them as impious, horrible and of monstrous size. But\nnotwithstanding these mythical exaggerations, which are partly due to the\ngenius of the Aryans so prone to magnify everything without measure, the\nR\u00e1m\u00e1yan in the course of its epic narration has still preserved and noted\nhere and there some traits and peculiarities of the race which reveal its\ntrue character. It represents the R\u00e1kshases as black of hue, and compares\nthem with black clouds and masses of black collyrium; it attributes to\nthem curly woolly hair and thick lips, it depicts them as loaded with\nchains, collars and girdles of gold, and the other bright ornaments which\ntheir race has always loved, and in which the kindred races of the Soudan\nstill delight. It describes them as worshippers of matter and force. They\nare hostile to the religion of the Aryans whose rites and sacrifices they\ndisturb and ruin \u2026 Such is the R\u00e1kshas race as represented in the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan;\nand the war of the Aryan R\u00e1ma forms the subject of the epic, a subject\ncertainly real and historical as far as regards its substance, but greatly\nexaggerated by the ancient myth. In Sanskrit-Indian tradition are found\ntraces of another struggle of the Aryans with the R\u00e1kshas races, which\npreceded the war of R\u00e1ma. According to some pauranic legends, K\u00e1rttav\u00edrya,\na descendant of the royal tribe of the Y\u00e1davas, contemporary with\nParasurama and a little anterior to R\u00e1ma, attacked Lank\u00e1 and took R\u00e1va\u1e47\nprisoner. This well shows how ancient and how deeply rooted in the Aryan\nrace is the thought of this war which the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan celebrates.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d says an eminent Indianist(1181) whose learning I highly appreciate,\n\u201cthe R\u00e1m\u00e1yan is an allegorical epic, and no precise and historical value\ncan be assigned to it. S\u00edt\u00e1 signifies the furrow made by the plough, and\nunder this symbolical aspect has already appeared honoured with worship in\nthe hymns of the Rig-veda; R\u00e1ma is the bearer of the plough (this\nassertion is entirely gratuitous); these two allegorical personages\nrepresented agriculture introduced to the southern regions of India by the\nrace of the Kosalas from whom R\u00e1ma was descended; the R\u00e1kshases on whom he\nmakes war are races of demons and giants who have little or nothing human\nabout them; allegory therefore predominates in the poem, and the exact\nreality of an historical event must not be looked for in it.\u201d Such is\nProfessor Weber\u2019s opinion. If he means to say that mythical fictions are\nmingled with real events,\n\nForsan in alcun vero suo arco percuote,\n\nas Dante says, and I fully concede the point. The interweaving of the myth\nwith the historical truth belongs to the essence, so to speak, of the\nprimitive epopeia. If S\u00edt\u00e1 is born, as the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan feigns, from the furrow\nwhich King Janak opened when he ploughed the earth, not a whit more real\nis the origin of Helen and \u00c6neas as related in Homer and Virgil, and if\nthe characters in the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan exceed human nature, and in a greater degree\nperhaps than is the case in analogous epics, this springs in part from the\nnature of the subject and still more from the symbol-loving genius of the\norient. Still the characters of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, although they exceed more or\nless the limits of human nature, act notwithstanding in the course of the\npoem, speak, feel, rejoice and grieve according to the natural impulse of\nhuman passions. But if by saying that the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan is an allegorical epic,\nit is meant that its fundamental subject is nothing but allegory, that the\nwar of the Aryan R\u00e1ma against the R\u00e1kshas race is an allegory, that the\nconquest of the southern region and of the island of Lank\u00e1 is an allegory,\nI do not hesitate to answer that such a presumption cannot be admitted and\nthat the thing is in my opinion impossible. Father Paol\u00edno da S.\nBartolommeo,(1182) had already, together with other strange opinions of\nhis own on Indian matters, brought forward a similar idea, that is to say\nthat the exploit of R\u00e1ma which is the subject of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan was a symbol\nand represented the course of the sun: thus he imagined that Brahm\u00e1 was\nthe earth, Vish\u1e47u the water, and that his avat\u00e1rs were the blessings\nbrought by the fertilizing waters, etc. But such ideas, born at a time\nwhen Indo-sanskrit antiquities were enveloped in darkness, have been\ndissipated by the light of new studies. How could an epic so dear in India\nto the memory of the people, so deeply rooted for many centuries in the\nminds of all, so propagated and diffused through all the dialects and\nlanguages of those regions, which had become the source of many dramas\nwhich are still represented in India, which is itself represented every\nyear with such magnificence and to such crowds of people in the\nneighbourhood of Ayodhy\u00e1, a poem welcomed at its very birth with such\nfavour, as the legend relates, that the recitation of it by the first\nwandering Rhapsodists has consecrated and made famous all the places\ncelebrated by them, and where R\u00e1ma made a shorter or longer stay, how, I\nask, could such an epic have been purely allegorical? How, upon a pure\ninvention, upon a simple allegory, could a poem have been composed of\nabout fifty thousand verses, relating with such force and power the\nevents, and giving details with such exactness? On a theme purely\nallegorical there may easily be composed a short mythical poem, as for\nexample a poem on Proserpine or Psyche: but never an epic so full of\ntraditions and historical memories, so intimately connected with the life\nof the people, as the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan.(1183) Excessive readiness to find allegory\nwhenever some traces of symbolism occur, where the myth partly veils the\nhistorical reality, may lead and often has led to error. What poetical\nwork of mythical times could stand this mode of trial? could there not be\nmade, or rather has there not been made a work altogether allegorical, out\nof the Homeric poems? We have all heard of the ingenious idea of the\nanonymous writer, who in order to prove how easily we may pass beyond the\ntruth in our wish to seek and find allegory everywhere, undertook with\nkeen subtlety to prove that the great personality of Napoleon I. was\naltogether allegorical and represented the sun. Napoleon was born in an\nisland, his course was from west to east, his twelve marshals were the\ntwelve signs of the zodiac, etc.\n\nI conclude then, that the fundamental theme of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, that is to say\nthe war of the Aryan R\u00e1ma against the R\u00e1kshases, an Hamitic race settled\nin the south, ought to be regarded as real and historical as far as\nregards its substance, although the mythic element intermingled with the\ntrue sometimes alters its natural and genuine aspect.\n\nHow then did the Indo-Sanskrit epopeia form and complete itself? What\nelements did it interweave in its progress? How did it embody, how did it\nclothe the naked and simple primitive datum? We must first of all remember\nthat the Indo-European races possessed the epic genius in the highest\ndegree, and that they alone in the different regions they occupied\nproduced epic poetry \u2026 But other causes and particular influences combined\nto nourish and develop the epic germ of the Sanskrit-Indians. Already in\nthe Rig-veda are found hymns in which the Aryan genius preluded, so to\nspeak, to the future epopeia, in songs that celebrated the heroic deeds of\nIndra, the combats and the victories of the tutelary Gods of the Aryan\nraces over enemies secret or open, human or superhuman, the exploits and\nthe memories of ancient heroes. More recently, at certain solemn\noccasions, as the very learned A. Weber remarks, at the solemnity, for\nexample of the A\u015bvamedha or sacrifice of the horse, the praises of the\nking who ordained the great rite were sung by bards and minstrels in songs\ncomposed for the purpose, the memories of past times were recalled and\nhonourable mention was made of the just and pious kings of old. In the\n_Br\u00e1hma\u1e47as_, a sort of prose commentaries annexed to the Vedas, are found\nrecorded stories and legends which allude to historical events of the past\nages, to ancient memories, and to mythical events. Such popular legends\nwhich the _Br\u00e1hma\u1e47as_ undoubtedly gathered from tradition admirably suited\nthe epic tissue with which they were interwoven by successive hands.\u2026 Many\nand various mythico-historical traditions, suitable for epic development,\nwere diffused among the Aryan races, those for example which are related\nin the four chapters containing the description of the earth, the Descent\nof the Ganges, etc. The epic genius however sometimes created beings of\nits own and gave body and life to ideal conceptions. Some of the persons\nin the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan must be, in my opinion, either personifications of the\nforces of nature like those which are described with such vigour in the\n_Sh\u00e1hn\u00e1mah_, or if not exactly created, exaggerated beyond human\nproportions; others, vedic personages much more ancient than R\u00e1ma, were\nintroduced into the epic and woven into its narrations, to bring together\nmen who lived in different and distant ages, as has been the case in times\nnearer to our own, in the epics, I mean, of the middle ages.\n\nIn the introduction I have discussed the antiquity of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan; and by\nmeans of those critical and inductive proofs which are all that an\nantiquity without precise historical dates can furnish I have endeavoured\nto establish with all the certainty that the subject admitted, that the\noriginal composition of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan is to be assigned to about the twelfth\ncentury before the Christian era. Not that I believe that the epic then\nsprang to life in the form in which we now possess it; I think, and I have\nelsewhere expressed the opinion, that the poem during the course of its\nrhapsodical and oral propagation appropriated by way of episodes,\ntraditions, legends and ancient myths.\u2026 But as far as regards the epic\npoem properly so called which celebrates the expedition of R\u00e1ma against\nthe R\u00e1kshases I think that I have sufficiently shown that its origin and\nfirst appearance should be placed about the twelfth century B.C.; nor have\nI hitherto met with anything to oppose this chronological result, or to\noblige me to rectify or reject it.\u2026 But an eminent philologist already\nquoted, deeply versed in these studies, A. Weber, has expressed in some of\nhis writings a totally different opinion; and the authority of his name,\nif not the number and cogency of his arguments, compels me to say\nsomething on the subject. From the fact or rather the assumption that\nMegasthenes(1184) who lived some time in India has made no mention either\nof the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat or the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan Professor Weber argues that neither of\nthese poems could have existed at that time; as regards the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, the\nunity of its composition, the chain that binds together its different\nparts, and its allegorical character, show it, says Professor Weber, to be\nmuch more recent than the age to which I have assigned it, near to our own\nera, and according to him, later than the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat. As for Megasthenes\nit should be observed, that he did not write a history of India, much less\na literary history or anything at all resembling one, but a simple\ndescription, in great part physical, of India: whence, from his silence on\nliterary matters to draw inferences regarding the history of Sanskrit\nliterature would be the same thing as from the silence of a geologist with\nrespect to the literature of a country whose valleys, mountains, and\ninternal structure he is exploring, to conjecture that such and such a\npoem or history not mentioned by him did not exist at his time. We have\nonly to look at the fragments of Megasthenes collected and published by\nSchwanbeck to see what was the nature and scope of his _Indica_.\u2026 But only\na few fragments of Megasthenes are extant; and to pretend that they should\nbe argument and proof enough to judge the antiquity of a poem is to press\nthe laws of criticism too far. To Professor Weber\u2019s argument as to the\nmore or less recent age of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan from the unity of its composition,\nI will make one sole reply, which is that if unity of composition were\nreally a proof of a more recent age, it would be necessary to reduce by a\nthousand years at least the age of Homer and bring him down to the age of\nAugustus and Virgil; for certainly there is much more unity of\ncomposition, a greater accord and harmony of parts in the Iliad and the\nOdyssey than in the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan. But in the fine arts perfection is no proof\nof a recent age: while the experience and the continuous labour of\nsuccessive ages are necessary to extend and perfect the physical or\nnatural sciences, art which is spontaneous in its nature can produce and\nhas produced in remote times works of such perfection as later ages have\nnot been able to equal.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\nINDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES\n\n\nAbhijit, 24.\n\nAbhik\u00e1la, 176.\n\nAbh\u00edra, 444.\n\nAbravanti, 374.\n\nAditi, 31, 57, 58, 125, 201, 245, 246.\n\n\u00c1dityas, 246, 403.\n\nAgastya, 5, 9, 40, 132, 151, 239, 240, 242, 244, 262, 265, 280, 375, 480,\n491, 500.\n\n\u00c1gneya, 178.\n\nAgni, 28, 74, 109, 132, 240, 243, 276.\n\nAgnivar\u1e47a, 82, 220.\n\nAgniketu, 433 note, 459.\n\nAhaly\u00e1, 60, 61, 62.\n\nAiladh\u00e1na, 178.\n\nAir, 2, 28, 203.\n\nAir\u00e1vat, 14, 110, 178, 246, 256, 267, 335, 399, 402, 415, 429, 437, 472.\n\nAja, 82, 220, 465.\n\n\u00c1jas, 270, 271.\n\nAkampan, 265, 266, 468, 481.\n\nAksha, 6, 420, 469, 471.\n\nAkurvati, 178.\n\nAlaka, 203 note.\n\nAlamb\u00fash\u00e1, 59, 198, 199.\n\nAlarka, 104, 107.\n\nAmar\u00e1vat\u00ed, 13, 203 note, 286.\n\nAmbar\u00edsha, 72, 73, 74, 82, 220.\n\nAm\u00fartarajas, 46.\n\nAnala, 455 note.\n\nAnal\u00e1, 245, 246.\n\nAnanta, 373.\n\nAnara\u1e47ya, 81, 219, 470.\n\nAnas\u00fay\u00e1, 9, 226, 227, 228.\n\nAndhak, 264.\n\nAndhras, 549.\n\nAnga, 38.\n\nAngad, 342, 348, 350, 352 ff., 363, 364 note, 367, 374, 379 ff, 391, 402,\n425 ff., 439, 442, 445, 448, 456, 458, 459, 475, 479 ff, 505.\n\nAngas, 15, 18, 19, 21, 102.\n\nAngiras, 133, 245.\n\nAnjan, 14, 368, 369.\n\nAnjan\u00e1, 392.\n\nAn\u015budh\u00e1na, 179.\n\nAn\u015bum\u00e1n, 50, 53, 56, 82, 220.\n\nAnuhl\u00e1da, 370.\n\nAparparyat, 178.\n\nApart\u00e1la, 175.\n\nApsarases, 57, 198, 199, 229, 378.\n\nAptory\u00e1m, 24.\n\nArishta, 424, 425.\n\nAr\u00edsh\u1e6danemi, 49, 245, 392.\n\nArjun, 86.\n\nArjuna, 518.\n\nArthas\u00e1dhak, 14.\n\nAru\u1e47, 246,\n\nArundhat\u00ed, 19, 244, 413.\n\nAryaman, 124.\n\n\u00c1ryan, 92.\n\nAsamanj, 50, 53, 82, 138, 220.\n\nAsit, 81, 219.\n\nA\u015bok, 14, 175.\n\nA\u015boka, 6, 10, 101, 205, 278, 296, 297, 300, 318, 321, 357, 403, 444, 452,\n456.\n\nAsta, 377, 379 note.\n\nAsurs, 57, 58, 380, 381, 387, 394, 407, 413, 420.\n\nA\u015bvagr\u00edva, 246.\n\nA\u015bvamedh, 29, 236 note.\n\nA\u015bvapati, 89, 131, 178, 183.\n\nA\u015bvatar\u00ed, 346.\n\nA\u015bvin, 371.\n\nA\u015bv\u00edn\u00ed, 343.\n\nA\u015bvins, 28, 36, 60, 62, 163, 246, 339, 343, 403, 490.\n\nAtik\u00e1ya, 468, 478 ff.\n\nAtir\u00e1tra, 24.\n\nAtri, 245, 561.\n\nAurva, 373 note.\n\nAvant\u00ed, 374.\n\nAvindhya, 415.\n\nAyodhy\u00e1, 4, 6, 11, 12, 14, 19, 32, 33, 38, 49, 70, 72, 79, 81, 83, 84, 85,\n88, 95, 96, _passim_.\n\nAyomukh, 374.\n\nAyomukhi, 310.\n\nB\u00e1h\u00edka, 176.\n\nBahuputra, 245.\n\nBala, 264.\n\nB\u00e1lakhilyas, 63, 235, 270, 271, 374.\n\nBali, 43, 59, 107, 275, 302, 421.\n\nB\u00e1li, 5, 9, 29, 318, 324, 328, 329, 333 ff., 344, 356 ff., 362, 364, 366,\n367, 379, 380, 391, 404, 412, 420, 440, 442, 448, 456, 458, 475, 478, 500,\n503, 505.\n\nBarbars, 66.\n\nBeauty, 26, 29, 58, 88, 283, 455.\n\nBhadamadr\u00e1, 246.\n\nBhadra, 52.\n\nBhaga, 124, 243.\n\nBhag\u00edrath, 53, 54, 55, 82, 220, 372.\n\nBh\u00e1g\u00edrath\u00ed, 56.\n\nBharadv\u00e1ja, 4, 7, 9, 10, 158, 159, 193, 196, 197, 199, 200, 201, 501.\n\nBharat, 4, 9, 10, 32, 81, 83, 84, 88, 89, 94, 97, _passim_.\n\nBharatas, 550.\n\nBh\u00e1ru\u1e47\u1e0da, 178.\n\nBh\u00e1s\u00ed, 246.\n\nBh\u00e1sakar\u1e47a, 420.\n\nBhava, 78.\n\nBh\u00edm\u00e1, 198.\n\nBhogavat\u00ed, 12 note, 267, 375.\n\nBhrigu, 40, 63, 73, 81, 85, 86, 88, 133, 220.\n\nBrahm\u00e1, 6, 7, 10, 19, 25, 26, 33, 38, 39, 42, 46, 48, 54, 56, 59, 61, 63,\n65, 67, 68, 74, 75, 77, 81, _passim_.\n\nBrahmadatta, 46, 47.\n\nBrahm\u00e1dikas, 133 note.\n\nBhrahmam\u00e1las, 548.\n\nBudha, 287.\n\nBuddhist, 219.\n\nCancer, 109.\n\nCeylon, 375 note.\n\nChaitra, 91.\n\nChaitraratha, 41, 178, 199, 267, 279, 315, 493.\n\nChakrav\u00e1n, 376.\n\nChamp\u00e1, 30.\n\nCha\u1e47\u1e0da, 448.\n\nCha\u1e47\u1e0d\u00e1la, 69, 70.\n\nChandra, 464.\n\nChatush\u1e6dom, 24.\n\nChitr\u00e1, 111, 250, 283.\n\nChitrak\u00fa\u1e6da, 4, 9, 160, 161, 197, 200, 201, 202, 209, 235, 236, 317, 416,\n501.\n\nChitraratha, 132.\n\nCholas, 549.\n\nCh\u00fali, 47.\n\nChyavan, 81, 220.\n\nDadhimukh, 426.\n\nDadhivakra, 364 note.\n\nDaitya, 125, 152, 211, 246, 289, 306, 371, 418.\n\nDaksha, 36, 78, 228, 245, 257, 396.\n\nD\u00e1nav, 255, 270, 306, 307, 311, 371, 372, 382, 432, 443, 477.\n\nDa\u1e47\u1e0dak, 9, 99, 103, 117, 124, 126, 130, 166, 181, 199, 211, 238, 271, 374.\n\nDa\u1e47\u1e0dak\u00e1, 5.\n\nDan\u00fa, 245, 246, 313.\n\nDapple skin, 64, 65.\n\nDardar, 110, 198.\n\nDardur, 448.\n\nDar\u00edmukha, 371.\n\nDa\u015b\u00e1r\u1e47a, 374.\n\nDas\u00e1ratha, 3, 9, 12, 14, 16, 18 ff., 25, 26, 29, 30, 32, 34, 41, 61, 62,\n77, 79, 80 ff., 91, 92, 95, _passim_.\n\nDasyus, 444.\n\nDevam\u00ed\u1e0dha, 82.\n\nDev\u00e1ntak, 479, 480.\n\nDevar\u00e1t, 77, 82, 86.\n\nDevasakh\u00e1, 378.\n\nDevavat\u00ed, 515.\n\nDhanvantari, 57 note.\n\nDhanyam\u00e1lin\u00ed, 481.\n\nDharmabhrit, 240.\n\nDharmap\u00e1l, 14.\n\nDharm\u00e1ra\u1e47ya, 46.\n\nDharmavardhan, 179.\n\nDhritar\u00e1sh\u1e6dr\u00ed, 246.\n\nDhrish\u1e6daketu, 82.\n\nDhrish\u1e6di, 14, 202.\n\nDhruvasandhi, 81, 219.\n\nDh\u00famra, 371, 448.\n\nDh\u00famr\u00e1ksha, 433 note, 465, 466.\n\nDh\u00famr\u00e1\u015bva, 60, 481.\n\nDhundhum\u00e1r, 81, 171, 219.\n\nDiksh\u00e1, 44.\n\nDil\u00edpa, 5 note, 53, 54, 56, 82, 171, 190, 220.\n\nDiti, 58, 59, 245, 246, 323.\n\nDragon, 101.\n\nDri\u1e0dhanetra, 68.\n\nDrish\u1e6di, 202.\n\nDro\u1e47a, 464.\n\nDrumakulya, 444.\n\nDundubhi, 333, 335, 338.\n\nDurdhar, 420.\n\nDurdharsha, 433 note.\n\nDurjaya, 256 note.\n\nDurmukha, 432, 433 note.\n\nDurv\u00e1sas, 521.\n\nD\u00fasha\u1e47, 5, 250, 254, 255, 256, 258, 259, 261, 264, 265, 267-271, 294, 461,\n502.\n\nDwida, 364 note.\n\nDwijihva, 474.\n\nDwivid, 371, 428, 430, 449, 451, 475, 483, 484.\n\nDwivida, 28.\n\nDyumatsena, 129.\n\nEkap\u00e1dakas, 549.\n\nEka\u015b\u00e1la, 179.\n\nFame, 26, 283.\n\nFate, 42, 68, 70, 71, 81, 119, 122, 123, 130, 181, 182, 195, 256, 293,\n296, 309, 343, 349, 351, 354, 386, 404, 415, 439, 492.\n\nFire, 2, 30, 45, 49, 218, 374.\n\nFortune, 2, 58, 90, 94, 124, 146, 160, 188, 242, 244, 283, 449, 453.\n\nFire-god, 74, 124, 328.\n\nG\u00e1dhi, 40, 48, 63, 64, 67, 68.\n\nGaja, 364 note, 371, 429, 449, 459.\n\nG\u00e1lava, 518.\n\nGandham\u00e1dan, 28, 159, 381, 429, 446, 476.\n\nGandharva, 199, 256, 258, 259, 278, 285, 351, 396, 425, 437, 441, 454,\n466, 468, 491.\n\nGandharvas, 267, 270, 281, 283, 306, 307, 308, 318, 364, 370, 375, 377,\n388, 394, 409, 420, 432, 449, 455, 472.\n\nGandharv\u00ed, 246, 265.\n\nGang\u00e1, 7, 9, 37, 38, 45, 48, 49, _passim_.\n\nGarga, 133.\n\nGaru\u1e0d, 28, 29, 53, 246, 271, 373, 453, 465, 470, 475.\n\nGautam, 60, 61, 62, 505.\n\nGautama, 236.\n\nGav\u00e1ksha, 364 note, 429, 449, 468, 475, 476.\n\nGavaya, 364 note, 371, 429, 448, 468.\n\nGaya, 482.\n\nGay\u00e1, 216.\n\nG\u00e1yatr\u00ed, 243.\n\nGhoralohamukhas, 548.\n\nGhrit\u00e1ch\u00ed, 46, 198, 367.\n\nGirivraja, 46, 176.\n\nGlory, 301.\n\nGod\u00e1var\u00ed, 245, 247, 248, 249, 282, 303, 310, 374, 500.\n\nGokarna, 54.\n\nGolabh, 351.\n\nGomat\u00ed, 151, 179, 448, 502, 503.\n\nGopa, 199.\n\nGuha, 4, 9, 152-156, 162, 192, 193, 194, 208, 501.\n\nGuhyakas, 378.\n\nH\u00e1h\u00e1, 198.\n\nHaihayas, 81, 219.\n\nHan\u00fam\u00e1n, 5, 9, 10, 28, 324 ff., 328, 332, 337, 340, 350, 355, 359, 360,\n363, 364 note, 368, 371, 374, 378 ff., 392 ff., 411 ff., 424 ff., 449,\n456.\n\nHara, 448.\n\nHar\u00ed, 246.\n\nH\u00e1r\u00edtas, 66.\n\nHarya\u015bva, 82.\n\nH\u00e1stinapura, 176.\n\nHastiprish\u1e6dhak, 179.\n\nHavishyand, 68.\n\nHayagriva, 346, 376.\n\nHem\u00e1, 198, 382.\n\nHemachandra, 60.\n\nHeti, 515.\n\nHim\u00e1laya, 3, 14, 45, 48, 49, 50, 53, 54, 61, 67, 76, 81, 88.\n\nHimav\u00e1u, 380.\n\nHira\u1e47yaka\u015bipu, 391 note, 407.\n\nHira\u1e47yan\u00e1bha, 500.\n\nHl\u00e1dini, 55, 178.\n\nHonour, 283.\n\nHotri, 24.\n\nHra\u015bvarom\u00e1, 82.\n\nHuh\u00fa, 198.\n\nIkshumat\u00ed, 80, 176.\n\nIkshv\u00e1ku, 2, 11, 13, 18, 24, 25, 35, 59, 60, 69, 70, 71, 73, 81, 82, 83,\n90, 94, 96, 103, 219, 390.\n\nIlval, 241.\n\nIndra, 2, 5, 13, 14, 25, 28, 29, 36, 39, 40, 43 ff., 50, 56, _passim_.\n\nIndraj\u00e1nu, 371 note.\n\nIndraj\u00edt, 420, 432, 436, 437, 441, 455, 459 ff., 482, 485.\n\nIndra\u015batru, 433 note.\n\nIndra\u015bira, 178.\n\nIr\u00e1vat\u00ed, 246.\n\nJ\u00e1b\u00e1li, 505.\n\nJahnu, 55.\n\nJ\u00e1hnav\u00ed, 49, 55, 154.\n\nJamadagni, 85, 86, 87, 119.\n\nJ\u00e1mbav\u00e1n, 371, 374, 388, 391, 393, 402, 425, 428, 429, 439, 446, 448, 456,\n464, 483, 503.\n\nJambudvip, 51, 373.\n\nJambum\u00e1l\u00ed, 418, 419, 420, 459, 460.\n\nJambuprastha, 179.\n\nJ\u00e1mbuvatu, 364 note.\n\nJanak, 4, 8, 9, 21, 45, 60, 61, 62, 77-85, 88, 090, _passim_.\n\nJanamejaya, 171.\n\nJanasth\u00e1n, 225, 251, 254, 255, 264, 265, 271, 281, 282, 294, 295, 298,\n308, 404, 439, 454, 463, 474, 493, 500.\n\nJ\u00e1tar\u00fapa, 373.\n\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yu, 5.\n\nJa\u1e6d\u00e1yus, 245, 247, 280, 288, 290, 308, 385 ff., 500, 502.\n\nJava, 231.\n\nJ\u00e1v\u00e1li, 20, 80, 174, 217, 218, 219, 222.\n\nJay\u00e1, 36.\n\nJayanta, 14, 175.\n\nJumna, 109, 501, 502.\n\nJupiter, 144.\n\nJustice, 3, 35, 42, 149, 243, 346, 454.\n\nJyotish\u1e6dom, 24.\n\nKabandha, 5, 9, 310-316, 446, 500.\n\nKadr\u00fa, 246.\n\nKadrum\u00e1, 246.\n\nKaikas\u00ed, 516.\n\nKaikey\u00ed, 3, 4, 9, 27, 32, 88, 96-103, _passim_.\n\nKail\u00e1sa, 38, 85, 92, 96, 110, 111, 267, 286, 357, 364, 368, 369, 373, 378,\n421, 431.\n\nKakustha, 35, 37, 82, 109, 110, 123, 137, 142, 147, 149, 151, 153, 192,\n208, 211, 220, 311.\n\nKal\u00e1, 378.\n\nK\u00e1lak, 246.\n\nK\u00e1lak\u00e1, 245, 246.\n\nK\u00e1lak\u00e1muka, 256 note.\n\nK\u00e1lamah\u00ed, 372.\n\nKalinda, 178.\n\nK\u00e1lind\u00ed, 81, 160, 220.\n\nKalinga, 179.\n\nKalingas, 549,\n\nKalm\u00e1shap\u00e1da, 82, 220.\n\nK\u00e1ma 37, 38, 42, 283, 286, 296.\n\nK\u00e1mboja, 13, 66.\n\nK\u00e1mbojas, 66.\n\nK\u00e1mpili, 47\n\nKa\u1e47du, 118, 380, 440.\n\nKandarpa, 37, 74, 75, 76, 250, 269.\n\nKa\u1e47va, 440.\n\nKany\u00e1kubja, 47.\n\nKapil, 51, 52, 53.\n\nKapivati, 179.\n\nKardam, 245.\n\nKar\u1e47apr\u00e1vara\u1e47as, 548.\n\nK\u00e1rtikeya, 243.\n\nK\u00e1rttav\u00edrya, 518.\n\nK\u00e1\u015bi, 21, 102.\n\nK\u00e1s\u00edkosalas, 548.\n\nKa\u015byap, 15, 16, 20, 30, 57-59, 80, 81, 86, 87, 91, 92, 118, 219, 215,\npassim.\n\nK\u00e1ty\u00e1yan, 505.\n\nK\u00e1ty\u00e1yana, 80, 174.\n\nKau\u015baly\u00e1, 3, 23, 27, 30, 31, 79, 84, 88, 93, 94, 97, 98, 100, _passim_.\n\nKau\u015b\u00e1mb\u00ed, 46.\n\nKau\u015bikas, 549.\n\nKau\u015bik\u00ed, 48, 372.\n\nK\u00e1ver\u00ed, 375.\n\nKaustubha, 58.\n\nK\u00e1vya, 40.\n\nKekaya, 21, 84, 88, 90, 137, 139, 174, 175.\n\nKerala, 190.\n\nKeralas, 549.\n\nKesar\u00ed, 371.\n\nKe\u015bini, 49, 50.\n\nKhara, 9, 225, 250 ff., 281, 288, 290, 294, 295, 433, 446, 451, 461, 477,\n493.\n\nKinnars, 270, 306, 308, 318, 321, 373, 425.\n\nKimpurushas, 28 note.\n\nKir\u00e1tas, 66, 549.\n\nK\u00edrtir\u00e1t, 82.\n\nKirtir\u00e1tha, 82.\n\nKishkindh\u00e1, 5, 333, 334, 336, 338, 339, 351, 357, 362, 369, 385, 449, 464,\n500.\n\nKo\u015bal, 11, 102, 273, 307, 359, 418.\n\nKo\u015bala, 151, 173.\n\nKrathan, 448.\n\nKratu, 245.\n\nKrauncha, 310, 378, 476.\n\nKraunchi, 246.\n\nKri\u015b\u00e1\u015bva, 36, 41, 43.\n\nKrish\u1e47a, 497.\n\nKrish\u1e47agiri, 448.\n\nKrish\u1e47veni, 374.\n\nKrita, 57, 395.\n\nKrodhava\u015b\u00e1, 245, 246.\n\nKshatriyas, 246, 346.\n\nKukshi, 81, 219.\n\nKuling\u00e1, 176.\n\nKumbha, 484.\n\nKumbhakar\u1e47a, 10, 250, 399, 411, 435 ff., 441, 470 ff.\n\nK\u00famuda, 364 note, 448.\n\nKunjar, 375, 392.\n\nKuru(s), North, 198, 203, 315.\n\nKuruj\u00e1ngal, 176.\n\nKu\u015ba, 10, 46, 48, 63, 526.\n\nKu\u015badhwaj, 80, 82, 88.\n\nKu\u015b\u00e1mba, 46.\n\nKu\u015ban\u00e1bha, 46, 47, 48, 63.\n\nKu\u015b\u00e1\u015bva, 60.\n\nKu\u015bik, 33, 35, 36, 38, 44, 56, 62, 63, 68, 70 ff., 83.\n\nKu\u1e6d\u00edk\u00e1, 179.\n\nKu\u1e6dikosh\u1e6dik\u00e1, 179.\n\nKuvera, 23, 88, 109, 110, 111, 112, 198, 199, 204, 232, 267, 378, 422,\n431, 432, 483.\n\nLakshma\u1e47, 4, 8, 11, 32, 36, 38, 40, 41, 44, 45, 56, 61, 79, 80, 82-84, 88,\n91, 94, 97, 98, _passim_.\n\nLakshm\u00ed, 88, 116, 146, 227, 400, 453, 462, 497.\n\nLamba, 397.\n\nLank\u00e1, 5, 10, 265, 267, 284, 286, 293, 295-297, 367, 387, 397, 411, 423\nff., 439, 456 ff.\n\nLanka\u1e6danka\u1e6d\u00e1, 515.\n\nLava, 10, 526.\n\nLohitya, 179.\n\nLokap\u00e1las, 485.\n\nLomap\u00e1d, 15, 16, 18, 19, 21, 30.\n\nM\u00e1dhav\u00ed, 520.\n\nMadhu, 26, 51, 57, 87, 95.\n\nMadh\u00faka, 245.\n\nMadhushyand, 68, 74.\n\nMadrakas, 550.\n\nMagadh, 46, 102.\n\nM\u00e1gadnas, 548.\n\nMagh\u00e1, 83.\n\nMah\u00e1b\u00edr, 82.\n\nMah\u00e1bala, 433 note.\n\nMah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat, 520, 524, 551, 554.\n\nMah\u00e1deva, 61, 515.\n\nMah\u00e1kap\u00e1la, 256 note, 260.\n\nMah\u00e1m\u00e1li, 256 note.\n\nMah\u00e1ndhrak, 82.\n\nMah\u00e1padma, 14, 52.\n\nMah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u00e1\u015bva, 433, 436, 455, 478, 480, 487.\n\nMah\u00e1rath, 68.\n\nMah\u00e1rom\u00e1, 82.\n\nMah\u00e1ru\u1e47, 368.\n\nMah\u00e1\u015baila, 368.\n\nMahendra, 28, 59, 86, 87, 88, 140, 167, 213, 243, 244, 307, 336, 344, 364,\n368, 370, 375, 490, 531, 554.\n\nMahe\u015bwar, 369, 498.\n\nMah\u00ed, 372.\n\nM\u00e1hishmat\u00ed, 518.\n\nMahishikas, 549.\n\nMahodar, 433 note, 450, 455, 474, 478 ff.\n\nMahodaya, 46, 70, 71, 488.\n\nMain\u00e1ka, 10, 394, 500 note.\n\nMainda, 28, 364 note, 371, 428, 430, 439, 449, 451, 458, 482, 483.\n\nMakar\u00e1ksha, 485 note.\n\nMalaja, 39.\n\nM\u00e1lavas, 548.\n\nMalaya, 198, 324, 328, 375, 379, 430.\n\nM\u00e1l\u00ed, 515, 516.\n\nM\u00e1lin\u00ed, 175, 539.\n\nMalyav\u00e1n, 454, 455.\n\nM\u00e1lyavat, 515, 516.\n\nM\u00e1nas, 38.\n\nMandakar\u1e47i, 240.\n\nMand\u00e1kin\u00ed, 200, 201, 203, 209, 234, 235, 304, 322, 416 note.\n\nMandal\u00ed, 556.\n\nMandar, 57, 163, 285, 362, 368, 372, 399, 402, 421, 485, 491, 493, 525.\n\nMandar\u00ed, 444.\n\nM\u00e1ndh\u00e1t\u00e1, 81, 219, 347, 518.\n\nM\u00e1ndavi, 84.\n\nM\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0davya, 226 note.\n\nMandehas, 373.\n\nMandodar\u00ed, 402, 492, 500, 516.\n\nMandra, 14.\n\nMa\u1e47ibhadra, 441.\n\nManthar\u00e1, 40, 96, 97, 99, 187.\n\nManu, 11, 12, 13, 81, 103, 151, 179, 219, 245, 246, 347, 490, 505, 537,\n555.\n\nMar\u00edcha, 58.\n\nM\u00e1r\u00edcha, 5, 9, 35, 39, 40, 44, 266, 271-280, 298.\n\nMar\u00edchi, 81, 91, 219, 245.\n\nMar\u00edchipas, 270, 271.\n\nM\u00e1rka\u1e47\u1e0deya, 80, 174.\n\nMars, 93, 144, 339, 404, 445, 467, 489.\n\nMaru, 82, 220.\n\nMaruts, 25, 54, 59, 403, 517, 547, 555.\n\nM\u00e1shas, 270, 271.\n\nM\u00e1tali, 109, 142, 489, 491, 493.\n\nMatanga, 14, 246, 315, 316, 317, 318, 319, 336, 337, 380.\n\nM\u00e1tang\u00ed, 246.\n\nM\u00e1tari\u015bva, 389.\n\nMatsya, 102, 523, 537, 549.\n\nMaya, 293, 382, 432, 488.\n\nM\u00e1y\u00e1, 293, 521.\n\nM\u00e1y\u00e1v\u00ed, 333, 334, 379.\n\nMegham\u00e1li, 256 note.\n\nMeghan\u00e1da, 10.\n\nMekhal, 374.\n\nMen\u00e1, 49, 394 note.\n\nMenak\u00e1, 74.\n\nMercury, 144, 339, 467.\n\nMeru, 4, 49, 92, 109, 110, 142, 182, 232, 236, 254, 291, 315, 368, 370,\n377, 380, 418, 493.\n\nMeru\u015bavar\u1e47i, 382.\n\nMina, 32.\n\nMi\u015brake\u015b\u00ed, 199.\n\nMithi, 82.\n\nM\u00edthil\u00e1, 9 note, 21, 45, 60, 61, 78, 81, 83, 84, 85.\n\nMitraghna, 459.\n\nMlechchhas, 66, 537, 550.\n\nModesty, 26.\n\nMoon, 30, 42, 58, 109 ff., 124, 218, 227, 243, 276, 367, 413, 414, 488.\n\nMriga, 14.\n\nMrigamand\u00e1, 246.\n\nMrig\u00ed, 246.\n\nMudgalya, 174.\n\nN\u00e1bh\u00e1g, 82, 220.\n\nN\u00e1gadant\u00e1, 198.\n\nN\u00e1gas, 12, 55, 66, 68, 145, 270, 273, 395, 409, 413, 420, 427, 518.\n\nNahush, 82, 95, 171, 190, 220, 307.\n\nNairrit, 430.\n\nNala, 10, 340, 364 note, 428, 444, 445, 448, 449, 468, 475, 483.\n\nNal\u00e1, 246.\n\nNalin\u00ed, 55, 203, 204, 267, 436.\n\nNamuchi, 39, 261, 264, 275, 336.\n\nNand\u00e1, 415.\n\nNandan, 26, 175, 200, 267, 279, 315, 316, 426.\n\nNandi, 249, 421.\n\nNandigr\u00e1ma, 4, 6, 9, 224, 502, 503.\n\nNand\u00ed\u015bvara, 471.\n\nNandivardhan, 82.\n\nN\u00e1rad, 1, 2, 8, 9, 124, 199, 543.\n\nNarak, 479.\n\nNar\u00e1ntak, 479.\n\nN\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47, 25, 26, 95, 393, 474, 497, 516, 517, 522, 535, 559.\n\nNarmad\u00e1, 374, 448, 518.\n\nNikumbha, 432, 433 note, 437, 459, 484.\n\nN\u00edla, 28, 340, 352, 360, 364 note, 371, 374, 428, 429, 430, 446, 448, 449,\n456, 458, 459, 469, 472, 475, 482.\n\nNimi, 77, 82.\n\nNi\u015bakar, 389, 390.\n\nNish\u00e1das, 4, 152, 192, 196, 271, 501, 537.\n\nOcean, 10, 95, 144, 285, 286, 336, 346, 387.\n\nOsh\u1e6dhakar\u1e47akas, 548.\n\nPahlavas, 66.\n\nP\u00e1ka, 252, 297, 498.\n\nPamp\u00e1, 5, 9, 235, 293, 314-321, 327.\n\nPanas, 371, 428, 448, 464.\n\nPanasa, 455 note.\n\nPanchajan, 376.\n\nPanch\u00e1la, 176, 539.\n\nPanch\u00e1psaras, 240.\n\nPanchava\u1e6da, 9.\n\nPanchava\u1e6d\u00ed, 244, 245, 247.\n\nP\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0dyas, 375, 549.\n\nPar\u00e1\u015bara, 517.\n\nPara\u015bur\u00e1ma, 119 note, 523, 531.\n\nParav\u00edr\u00e1ksha, 256 note.\n\nP\u00e1riy\u00e1tra, 376, 448.\n\nParjanya, 112, 174, 261, 448.\n\nP\u00e1rvati, 249 note, 515, 542.\n\nPaulastya, 472.\n\nPaulom\u00ed, 29, 370.\n\nP\u00e1van\u00ed, 55.\n\nPh\u00e1lgun\u00ed, 83.\n\nPin\u00e1ka, 67.\n\nPitris, 550.\n\nPrabh\u00e1va, 363.\n\nPrachetas, 1, 245.\n\nPraghas, 420, 459, 460.\n\nPr\u00e1gva\u1e6d, 179.\n\nPrahasta, 399, 418, 419, 421, 422, 432 ff., 441, 451, 452, 455, 456, 471,\n481.\n\nPraheti, 515.\n\nPrahl\u00e1da, 391.\n\nPrajangha, 459, 460.\n\nPraj\u00e1pati, 133 note, 554, 560.\n\nPralamba, 175.\n\nPram\u00e1tha, 256 note.\n\nPramath\u00ed, 260, 448.\n\nPramati, 455 note.\n\nPrasenajit, 81, 219.\n\nPra\u015brava\u1e47, 304, 357, 380, 383, 415, 426.\n\nPrasthalas, 550.\n\nPra\u015bu\u015b\u015bruka, 82, 220.\n\nPratindhak, 82.\n\nPravargya, 22.\n\nPray\u00e1g, 158, 159, 196.\n\nPrithu, 81, 219.\n\nPrithu\u015by\u00e1ma, 256 note.\n\nProsh\u1e6dhapad\u00e1, 32.\n\nPulah, 245.\n\nPulastya, 35, 245, 254, 268, 288, 408, 515.\n\nPulindas, 550.\n\nPuloma, 370.\n\nPunarvasu, 93.\n\nPu\u1e47\u1e0dar\u00edk\u00e1, 199.\n\nPu\u1e47\u1e0dras, 548, 549.\n\nPunjikasthal\u00e1, 436, 552.\n\nPuranda, 522.\n\nPurandara, 384, 522.\n\nPur\u00faravas, 286, 544, 545.\n\nPurusha, 256 note, 559.\n\nPurush\u00e1dak, 82, 220.\n\nPurushottam, 498, 517.\n\nP\u00fash\u00e1, 124.\n\nPushpak, 10, 80, 286, 499, 519.\n\nPushya, 32, 90, 92, 94, 96, 98, 109, 126.\n\nRabhasa, 433 note.\n\nR\u00e1ghava, 5 note.\n\nRaghu, 5, 9, 22, 32 ff., 50, 56, 61, _passim_.\n\nRaghunandana, 522.\n\nR\u00e1hu, 93, 223, 261, 272, 303, 351, 480.\n\nRain, Lord of, 92, 222.\n\nR\u00e1jagriha, 174, 175.\n\nR\u00e1ma, _passim_.\n\nR\u00e1m\u00e1yana, 8 note, 10, 11, 541, 542.\n\nRambh\u00e1, 75, 232, 448.\n\nRama\u1e47\u00e1, 199.\n\nRa\u015bmiketu, 433 note, 459.\n\nR\u00e1va\u1e47, 5, 9, 10, 25, 26, 32, 35, _passim_.\n\nRe\u1e47uk\u00e1, 63, 119.\n\nRich\u00edka, 48, 73, 86.\n\nRight, 42, 68.\n\nRiksharajas, 386, 442.\n\nRikshav\u00e1n, 448.\n\nRishabh, 373, 375, 429, 446, 476, 483.\n\nRish\u1e6dikas, 549.\n\nRishyam\u00faka, 9, 314, 315, 316, 318 ff., 332, 335, 339, 340, 353, 380, 500.\n\nRishya\u015bring, 15-24, 29, 30.\n\nRohi\u1e47\u00ed, 4, 112, 223, 227, 246, 251, 282, 287, 367, 404, 413, 445.\n\nRohitas, 376, 558.\n\nRudhir\u00e1\u015bana, 256 note.\n\nRudra, 49, 57, 67, 77, 78, 162, 249, 257, 264, 283, 296, 378, 413, 483.\n\nRudras, 246, 558.\n\nRukmi\u1e47\u00ed, 517.\n\nRum\u00e1, 346, 349, 350, 363, 366, 367, 371, 385, 403.\n\nRuman, 371.\n\nSach\u00ed, 29, 202, 234, 238, 276, 286, 297, 370, 408, 415, 494, 519, 522.\n\nS\u00e1dhyas, 490, 555, 558, 559.\n\nSagar, 11, 50 ff., 82, 119, 137, 171, 441.\n\nSahadeva, 60.\n\nSahya, 429, 430.\n\n\u015aaivya, 104, 107, 171, 533.\n\n\u015aakas, 66, 550.\n\n\u015aakra, 75, 234, 307, 313, 336, 344, 448, 464.\n\n\u015a\u00e1lmal\u00ed, 176, 539.\n\n\u015a\u00e1lyakartan, 178.\n\n\u015a\u00e1man, 186, 326, 359.\n\n\u015aambar, 479.\n\n\u015aambara, 99, 100.\n\nSamp\u00e1ti, 5, 9, 246, 364 note, 385, 387 ff., 412, 455 note, 459, 460, 464.\n\nSampraksh\u00e1las, 235.\n\nSanatkum\u00e1r, 15, 16.\n\nSandhy\u00e1, 515.\n\nSanh\u00e1ras, 36.\n\nSanhr\u00e1da, 474.\n\n\u015aani\u015bchar, 283.\n\n\u015aankan, 82.\n\n\u015aankar, 57, 335.\n\nS\u00e1nk\u00e1\u015by\u00e1, 80, 81, 82, 83.\n\n\u015aankha, 555.\n\n\u015aankhan, 220, 432.\n\nSanrochan, 448.\n\n\u015aan\u015bray, 245.\n\n\u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1, 16, 19, 29, 30, 31.\n\n\u015aarabh, 364 note, 439, 476.\n\n\u015aarabhanga, 9, 233, 234, 235, 236, 265, 502.\n\n\u015aarada\u1e47\u1e0d\u00e1, 176, 539.\n\nSaram\u00e1, 452, 453.\n\nS\u00e1ra\u1e47, 446, 447, 455.\n\nSarandib, 375 note.\n\nS\u00e1ranga, 556.\n\nSarasvat\u00ed, 178, 372, 516, 522.\n\n\u015a\u00e1rd\u00fala, 441, 449, 450.\n\n\u015a\u00e1rd\u00fal\u00ed, 246.\n\nSarj\u00fa, 11, 20, 22, 36, 37, 38, 50, _passim_.\n\nS\u00e1rvabhauma, 429.\n\nSarvart\u00edrtha, 179.\n\n\u015aa\u015bivindhus, 81, 219.\n\n\u015aatabali, 371, 377, 379, 380.\n\n\u015aatadr\u00fa, 178, 539.\n\n\u015aatahrad\u00e1, 231.\n\n\u015aat\u00e1nanda, 62, 63, 77, 79, 80, 81, 84.\n\n\u015aatrughna, 32, 83, 84, 88, 89, 97, _passim_.\n\n\u015aatrunjay, 504.\n\nSatyav\u00e1n, 129.\n\nSatyavat\u00ed, 48.\n\nS\u00e1vitr\u00ed, 129, 227.\n\n\u015aavar\u00ed, 315, 316, 317.\n\nSaumanas, 373.\n\nS\u00e1var\u1e47\u00ed, 377.\n\nSeven Rishis, 23.\n\n\u015aesha, 245.\n\nSiddh\u00e1rth, 14, 137, 138, 175.\n\nSiddhas, 28 note, 540, 559.\n\n\u015a\u00edghraga, 82, 220.\n\n\u015ail\u00e1, 178.\n\n\u015ail\u00e1vah\u00e1, 178.\n\nSindhu, 13, 21, 55, 102, 372, 376, 443.\n\nSinhik\u00e1, 10, 396.\n\n\u015ai\u015bir(a), 372, 555.\n\nS\u00edt\u00e1, 4 ff., 55, 78, 79, 83, 84, 88, 93, _passim_.\n\n\u015aiva, 4, 36, 42, 54, 55, 57, 67, 78, 82, 85, 86, 109, 110, 205, 523, 524,\n543, 554.\n\nSkanda, 554.\n\nSoma, 52, 58, 198, 267, 378, 554.\n\nSomadatta, 60.\n\nSomad\u00e1, 47.\n\nSomagiri, 376, 378.\n\n\u015ao\u1e47a, 45, 48, 372.\n\n\u015aringavera, 4, 192, 196, 223, 501, 502.\n\nSrinjay, 60.\n\nSrutak\u00edrti, 84.\n\nSth\u00e1\u1e47u, 25, 37, 245.\n\nSth\u00e1\u1e47umat\u00ed, 179.\n\nSth\u00fal\u00e1ksha, 256 note, 260.\n\nSth\u00fala\u015biras, 313.\n\nSub\u00e1hu, 364 note.\n\nSuchakshu, 55.\n\nSuchandra, 60.\n\n\u015auchi, 238.\n\nSud\u00e1m\u00e1, 178.\n\nSud\u00e1man, 81, 176.\n\nSudar\u015ban, 82, 83, 220, 373, 378, 448.\n\nSudar\u015bandw\u00edp, 374.\n\nSudhanv\u00e1, 82.\n\nSudhriti, 82.\n\n\u015a\u00fadras, 6, 13, 246.\n\nSugr\u00edva, 5, 6, 9, 28, 29, 314, 316, 318, 324 ff., 337, 339, 344, 346 ff.,\n371, 375 ff., 412, 414, 422, 424, 430, 439 ff., 446, 450, 519, 545.\n\n\u015auka, 442, 446, 447, 455 ff.\n\nSuke\u015ba, 515, 516.\n\nSuketu, 39, 82.\n\nSuk\u00ed, 246.\n\n\u015aukra, 124, 210, 279, 384, 429.\n\nSum\u00e1li, 515, 516.\n\nSum\u00e1gadh\u00ed, 46.\n\nSumantra, 15, 16, 19, 21, 80, 92, _passim_.\n\nSumati, 49, 50, 59, 60.\n\nSumitr\u00e1, 27, 30, 32, 88, 94, _passim_.\n\nSun, 93, 109, 110, 124, 243.\n\nSun\u00e1bha, 425.\n\n\u015aunah\u015bepha, 72, 73, 74\n\nSunda, 35, 39.\n\nSunetra, 364 note.\n\nSupar\u1e47a, 53, 125, 231, 343, 349, 388.\n\nSup\u00e1r\u015bva, 388.\n\nSup\u00e1tala, 364 note.\n\nSuptaghna, 433 note.\n\nSur\u00e1, 58.\n\nSurabh\u00ed, 183, 246.\n\nSurapati, 522.\n\nSuras, 58.\n\nSuras\u00e1, 246, 395.\n\nSur\u00e1sh\u1e6dra, 21, 102, 376.\n\nS\u00farasenas, 550.\n\n\u015a\u00farpa\u1e47akh\u00e1, 5, 9, 249 ff., 267 ff., 288, 502.\n\nS\u00farya, 555.\n\nS\u00fary\u00e1ksha, 364 note.\n\nS\u00farya\u015batru, 433 note.\n\nS\u00faryav\u00e1n, 375.\n\nSusandhi, 81, 219.\n\nSushe\u1e47, 28, 351, 364 note, 376, 379, 380.\n\nSutanu, 199.\n\nSut\u00edksh\u1e47a, 9, 234, 236, 237, 240, 241.\n\nSuv\u00e1hu, 35, 44, 45, 146.\n\nSuvarat, 220.\n\nSuvela, 450, 456, 457.\n\nSuv\u00edra, 21, 102.\n\nSuyaj\u01f9a, 20, 132.\n\nSvayambhu, 394.\n\nSvayamprabh\u00e1, 382.\n\n\u015avet\u00e1ra\u1e47ya, 264.\n\nSwarga, 54, 101, 202, 493.\n\nSwar\u1e47arom\u00e1, 82.\n\n\u015aweta, 448.\n\n\u015ay\u00e1ma, 160.\n\nSyandik\u00e1, 151.\n\n\u015ayenag\u00e1m\u00ed, 256 note, 260.\n\n\u015ayen\u00ed, 246.\n\nT\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1, 38, 39, 40, 41.\n\nT\u00e1\u1e0dakeya, 266.\n\nTaittir\u00edya, 132.\n\nTakshak, 432.\n\nTakshaka, 267.\n\nT\u00e1lajanghas, 81, 219.\n\nTamas\u00e1, 7, 147, 148, 149.\n\nT\u00e1mr\u00e1, 245, 246.\n\nT\u00e1mrapar\u1e47\u00ed, 375.\n\nTapan, 459, 555.\n\nT\u00e1ra, 364 note, 379 ff.\n\nT\u00e1r\u00e1, 9, 336, 349 ff., 355, 359, 362, 363, 366, 367, 369, 371, 385, 403,\n449, 546.\n\nT\u00e1rak, 430.\n\nT\u00e1rkshya, 214.\n\nTen-necked, 250.\n\nThirty-three Gods, 51.\n\nThousand-eyed, 41, 59, 60, 74, 75, 76, 86, 90, 112, 252, 297, 504.\n\nThree-eyed God, 86.\n\nThunderer, 234.\n\nTitan, 58, 67, 72, 79, 109, 114, 124.\n\nTora\u1e47, 179.\n\nTown-Destroyer, 59, 60.\n\nTrident, 68.\n\nTrident-wielding, 54, 57.\n\nTrija\u1e6d, 133.\n\nTrija\u1e6d\u00e1, 410, 463.\n\nTrik\u00fa\u1e6da, 456, 457, 500, 515.\n\nTri\u1e47avindu, 515.\n\nTr\u00edpathag\u00e1, 56.\n\nTripur, 306.\n\nTripura, 85, 86.\n\nTri\u015banku, 68-72, 81, 144, 219, 429.\n\nTri\u015bir\u00e1, 9.\n\nTri\u015bir\u00e1s, 256 note, 260, 261, 264, 267, 271, 478, 479, 480, 502.\n\nTumburu, 198, 199, 232.\n\nUchchaih\u015bravas, 58, 522.\n\nUdayagiri, 379 note.\n\nUd\u00e1vasu, 82.\n\nUjjih\u00e1n\u00e1, 179.\n\nUkthya, 24.\n\nUm\u00e1, 49, 54, 205, 249 note, 471, 542, 543.\n\nUpasad, 22.\n\nUpasunda, 35.\n\nUpendra, 74, 559.\n\nUrmil\u00e1, 47, 83, 84, 88, 228.\n\nUrva\u015b\u00ed, 286, 544, 545.\n\nU\u015banas, 382.\n\nUtkal, 374.\n\nUtt\u00e1nik\u00e1, 179, 539.\n\nV\u00e1hli, 13.\n\nV\u00e1hl\u00edka, 376.\n\nVahni, 555.\n\nVaidyut, 375.\n\nVaijayanta, 99, 179, 522.\n\nVaikh\u00e1nasas, 270, 271, 374.\n\nVainateya, 388.\n\nVai\u015brava\u1e47, 265, 285, 378, 414, 515.\n\nVai\u015byas, 246.\n\nVaitara\u1e47\u00ed, 293.\n\nVajra, 376.\n\nVajradansh\u1e6dra, 432, 433 note, 466, 467.\n\nV\u00e1lm\u00edki, 1, 7-11, 161, 519, 542.\n\nV\u00e1madeva, 14, 79, 80, 91, 174, 222, 505.\n\nV\u00e1mana, 14, 523.\n\nV\u00e1\u1e47a, 81, 219.\n\nVan\u00e1yu, 13.\n\nVangas, 102.\n\nVaradas, 550.\n\nVaru\u1e47, 1 note, 28, 42, 67, 88, 109, 124, 228, 243, 272, 293, 338, 377,\n383, 448, 471, 518.\n\nVar\u00e1\u015bya, 256 note.\n\nVar\u00fatha, 179.\n\nV\u00e1sav, 92.\n\nV\u00e1sava, 236, 522.\n\nVa\u015bish\u1e6dha, 14, 15, 19-22, 25, 32, _passim_.\n\nV\u00e1sudeva, 51, 52.\n\nV\u00e1suki, 57, 267, 375, 432, 518, 522.\n\nVasus, 14, 46, 246, 283, 377, 403, 522, 554.\n\nVasvaukas\u00e1r\u00e1, 203.\n\nV\u00e1t\u00e1pi, 241, 280.\n\nV\u00e1yu, 59, 243, 369, 427, 428, 555.\n\nVedas, 1 note, 3, 12, 22, 70, 89, 109, 125, 147, 184, 229, 559.\n\nVeda\u015brut\u00ed, 151.\n\nVedavat\u00ed, 470, 517.\n\nVegadar\u015b\u00ed, 429, 446, 483.\n\nVe\u1e47\u00e1, 448, 537.\n\nVibh\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0dak, 15, 16, 17, 18, 25.\n\nVibh\u00edsha\u1e47, 6, 10, 250, 273, 415, 422, 423, 433 ff., 449 ff., 472, 483, 487\nff., 516.\n\nVibudh, 82.\n\nVidarbha, 46, 49.\n\nVidarbhas, 549.\n\nVideha, 79 ff., 129, 130, 142, 166, 195, 227.\n\nVidehan, 9, 79, 95, 104, 119, 125, _passim_.\n\nVidehas, 548.\n\nVidy\u00e1dhar\u00ed, 203 note.\n\nVidyujjihva, 450.\n\nVidyunm\u00e1li, 364 note.\n\nVidyutke\u015ba, 515.\n\nVihangama, 256 note.\n\nVijay, 14, 36, 175, 505.\n\nVika\u1e6d\u00e1, 409.\n\nVikrit, 245.\n\nVikukshi, 81, 219.\n\nVinata, 179, 379, 380, 388, 448.\n\nVinat\u00e1, 53, 125, 246.\n\nVindhya, 14, 51, 242, 364, 370, 374, 380.\n\nVindu, 55.\n\nVip\u00e1\u015b\u00e1, 176, 539.\n\nV\u00edrab\u00e1hu, 364 note.\n\nVir\u00e1dha, 5, 9, 229, 232, 404, 446, 502.\n\nVir\u00e1j, 124.\n\nViramatsya, 178.\n\nVirochan, 40, 43.\n\nVirtue, 223, 272.\n\nVir\u00fap\u00e1ksha, 52, 420, 433, 459, 460, 487.\n\nVi\u015b\u00e1kh\u00e1s, 144, 430.\n\nVi\u015b\u00e1l\u00e1, 56, 57, 59, 60, 62.\n\nVish\u1e47u, 1 note, 2, 3, 25, 32, 40, _passim_.\n\nVi\u015bravas, 35, 309, 408, 515, 516.\n\nVi\u015bv\u00e1chi, 198.\n\nVi\u015bvajit, 24.\n\nVi\u015bvakarm\u00e1, 28, 42, 198, 376, 387, 444, 445, 448, 499, 500, 515, 556.\n\nVi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, 9, 32 ff., 39, 41, 44, 45, _passim_.\n\nVi\u015bvar\u00fapa, 353.\n\nVi\u015bvas, 377.\n\nVi\u015bv\u00e1vasu, 198.\n\nVi\u015bvedevas, 162.\n\nVitardan, 474.\n\nVivasvat, 81, 171, 219, 245, 386, 532.\n\nVra\u1e47a, 444.\n\nVrihadratha, 82.\n\nVrihaspati, 28, 31, 95, 124, 210, 307, 464, 517.\n\nVritra, 125, 264, 288, 387, 487, 491, 536.\n\nVulture-king, 9.\n\nWar-god, 124, 476.\n\nWind, 30, 218.\n\nWind-god, 10, 36, 42, 68, 325, 326, 379, 392 ff., 417 ff., 449, 470, 478,\n481, 488, 502, 503.\n\nYavadw\u00edpa, 372.\n\nYajnakopa, 433 note, 459.\n\nYajush, 326.\n\nYajna\u015batru, 256 note.\n\nYaksha, 236 note, 306, 318, 363, 375, 394, 420, 422, 425, 431, 454, 458,\n468.\n\nY\u00e1ma, 68, 71, 112, 117, 124, 140, 166, 171, 241, 248, 262, 275, 287, 313,\n343 ff., 432, 437, 449, 472, 475, 496, 518, 554.\n\nYamun\u00e1, 158, 159, 160, 178, 214, 223, 372.\n\nY\u00e1mun, 372.\n\nYavanas, 66, 550.\n\nYay\u00e1ti, 82, 95, 107, 119, 163, 186, 307, 344.\n\nYudh\u00e1jit, 84, 88, 180, 190.\n\nY\u00fap\u00e1ksha, 420, 472.\n\nYuvan\u00e1\u015bva, 81, 219.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n    1 The MSS. vary very considerably in these stanzas of invocation: many\n      lines are generally prefixed in which not only the poet, but those\n      who play the chief parts in the poem are panegyrized. It is\n      self-apparent that they are not by the author of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan\n      himself.\n\n    2 \u201cV\u00e1lm\u00edki was the son of Varu\u1e47a, the regent of the waters, one of\n      whose names is Prachetas. According to the _Adhy\u00e1tm\u00e1 R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a_, the\n      sage, although a Br\u00e1hman by birth, associated with foresters and\n      robbers. Attacking on one occasion the seven Rishis, they\n      expostulated with him successfully, and taught him the _mantra_ of\n      R\u00e1ma reversed, or _Mar\u00e1, Mar\u00e1_, in the inaudible repetition of which\n      he remained immovable for thousands of years, so that when the sages\n      returned to the same spot they found him still there, converted into\n      a _valm\u00edk_ or ant-hill, by the nests of the termites, whence his\n      name of V\u00e1lm\u00edki.\u201d\n\n      WILSON. _Specimens of the Hindu Theatre, Vol. I. p. 313_.\n\n      \u201cV\u00e1lm\u00edki is said to have lived a solitary life in the woods: he is\n      called both a _muni_ and a _rishi_. The former word properly\n      signifies an anchorite or hermit; the latter has reference chiefly\n      to wisdom. The two words are frequently used promiscuously, and may\n      both be rendered by the Latin _vates_ in its earliest meaning of\n      _seer_: V\u00e1lm\u00edki was both poet and seer, as he is said to have sung\n      the exploits of R\u00e1ma by the aid of divining insight rather than of\n      knowledge naturally acquired.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n    3 Literally, _Kokila_, the Ko\u00efl, or Indian Cuckoo. Schlegel translates\n      \u201cluscinium.\u201d\n\n    4 Comparison with the Ganges is implied, that river being called the\n      purifier of the world.\n\n    5 \u201cThis name may have been given to the father of V\u00e1lm\u00edki\n      allegorically. If we look at the derivation of the word (_pra_,\n      before, and _chetas_, mind) it is as if the poet were called the son\n      of Prometheus, the Forethinker.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n    6 Called in Sanskrit also _B\u00e1la-K\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_, and in Hind\u00ed _B\u00e1l-K\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0d_,\n      _i.e._ the Book describing R\u00e1ma\u2019s childhood, _b\u00e1la_ meaning a boy up\n      to his sixteenth year.\n\n    7 A divine saint, son of Brahm\u00e1. He is the eloquent messenger of the\n      Gods, a musician of exquisite skill, and the inventor of the _v\u00ed\u1e47\u00e1_\n      or Indian lute. He bears a strong resemblance to Hermes or Mercury.\n\n    8 This mystic syllable, said to typify the supreme Deity, the Gods\n      collectively, the Vedas, the three spheres of the world, the three\n      holy fires, the three steps of Vish\u1e47u etc., prefaces the prayers and\n      most venerated writings of the Hindus.\n\n    9 This colloquy is supposed to have taken place about sixteen years\n      after R\u00e1ma\u2019s return from his wanderings and occupation of his\n      ancestral throne.\n\n   10 Called also \u015ar\u00ed and Lakshm\u00ed, the consort of Vish\u1e47u, the Queen of\n      Beauty as well as the Dea Fortuna. Her birth \u201cfrom the full-flushed\n      wave\u201d is described in Canto XLV of this Book.\n\n   11 One of the most prominent objects of worship in the Rig-veda, Indra\n      was superseded in later times by the more popular deities Vish\u1e47u and\n      \u015aiva. He is the God of the firmament, and answers in many respects\n      to the Jupiter Pluvius of the Romans. See _Additional Notes_.\n\n   12 The second God of the Trim\u00farti or Indian Trinity. Derived from the\n      root _vi\u015b_ to penetrate, the meaning of the name appears to be _he\n      who penetrates or pervades all things_. An embodiment of the\n      preserving power of nature, he is worshipped as a Saviour who has\n      nine times been incarnate for the good of the world and will descend\n      on earth once more. See _Additional Notes_ and Muir\u2019s Sanskrit Texts\n      _passim_.\n\n   13 In Sanskrit _devarshi_. Rishi is the general appellation of sages,\n      and another word is frequently prefixed to distinguish the degrees.\n      A _Brahmarshi_ is a theologian or Br\u00e1hmanical sage; a R\u00e1jarshi is a\n      royal sage or sainted king; a _Devarshi_ is a divine or deified sage\n      or saint.\n\n_   14 Trik\u00e1laj\u01f9a_. Literally _knower of the three times_. Both Schlegel\n      and Gorresio quote Homer\u2019s.\n\n      \u1f4d\u03c2 \u1f24\u03b4\u03b7 \u03c4\u2019 \u1f10\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1, \u03c4\u03ac \u03c4\u2019 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c3\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03b1,\n      \u03c0\u03c1\u03cc \u03c4\u2019 \u1f10\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1.\n\n      \u201cThat sacred seer, whose comprehensive view,\n      The past, the present, and the future knew.\u201d\n\n      The Bombay edition reads _trilokaj\u01f9a,_ _who knows the three worlds_\n      (earth, air and heaven.) \u201cIt is by _tapas_ (austere fervour) that\n      rishis of subdued souls, subsisting on roots, fruits and air, obtain\n      a vision of the three worlds with all things moving and stationary.\u201d\n      MANU, XI. 236.\n\n   15 Son of Manu, the first king of Ko\u015bala and founder of the solar\n      dynasty or family of the Children of the Sun, the God of that\n      luminary being the father of Manu.\n\n   16 The Indians paid great attention to the art of physiognomy and\n      believed that character and fortune could be foretold not from the\n      face only but from marks upon the neck and hands. Three lines under\n      the chin like those at the mouth of a conch (_\u015aa\u0144kha_) were regarded\n      as a peculiarly auspicious sign indicating, as did also the mark of\n      Vish\u1e47u\u2019s discus on the hand, one born to be a _chakravartin_ or\n      universal emperor. In the palmistry of Europe the line of fortune,\n      as well as the line of life, is in the hand. Cardan says that marks\n      on the nails and teeth also show what is to happen to us: \u201cSunt\n      etiam in nobis vestigia qu\u00e6dam futurorum eventuum in unguibus atque\n      etiam in dentibus.\u201d Though the palmy days of Indian chiromancy have\n      passed away, the art is still to some extent studied and believed\n      in.\n\n   17 Long arms were regarded as a sign of heroic strength.\n\n   18 \u201cVeda means originally knowing or knowledge, and this name is given\n      by the Br\u00e1hmans not to one work, but to the whole body of their most\n      ancient sacred literature. Veda is the same word which appears in\n      the Greek \u03bf\u03af\u03b4\u03b1, I know, and in the English wise, wisdom, to wit. The\n      name of Veda is commonly given to four collections of hymns, which\n      are respectively known by the names of Rig-veda, Yajur-veda,\n      S\u00e1ma-veda, and Atharva-veda.\u201d\n\n      \u201cAs the language of the Veda, the Sanskrit, is the most ancient type\n      of the English of the present day, (Sanskrit and English are but\n      varieties of one and the same language,) so its thoughts and\n      feelings contain in reality the first roots and germs of that\n      intellectual growth which by an unbroken chain connects our own\n      generation with the ancestors of the Aryan race,\u2014with those very\n      people who at the rising and setting of the sun listened with\n      trembling hearts to the songs of the Veda, that told them of bright\n      powers above, and of a life to come after the sun of their own lives\n      had set in the clouds of the evening. These men were the true\n      ancestors of our race, and the Veda is the oldest book we have in\n      which to study the first beginnings of our language, and of all that\n      is embodied in language. We are by nature Aryan, Indo-European, not\n      Semitic: our spiritual kith and kin are to be found in India,\n      Persia, Greece, Italy, Germany: not in Mesopotamia, Egypt, or\n      Palestine.\u201d\n\n      _Chips from a German Workshop_, Vol. I. pp. 8. 4.\n\n   19 As with the ancient Persians and Scythians, Indian princes were\n      carefully instructed in archery which stands for military science in\n      general, of which, among Hindu heroes, it was the most important\n      branch.\n\n   20 Chief of the three queens of Da\u015baratha and mother of R\u00e1ma.\n\n   21 From _hima_ snow, (Greek \u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\u03bc-\u03ce\u03bd, Latin hiems) and _\u00e1laya_ abode,\n      the Mansion of snow.\n\n   22 The moon (_Soma_, _Indu_, _Chandra_ _etc._) is masculine with the\n      Indians as with the Germans.\n\n   23 Kuvera, the Indian Plutus, or God of Wealth.\n\n   24 The events here briefly mentioned will be related fully in the\n      course of the poem. The first four cantos are introductory, and are\n      evidently the work of a later hand than Valmiki\u2019s.\n\n   25 \u201cChandra, or the Moon, is fabled to have been married to the\n      twenty-seven daughters of the patriarch Daksha, or A\u015bvin\u00ed and the\n      rest, who are in fact personifications of the Lunar Asterisms. His\n      favourite amongst them was Rohi\u1e47\u00ed to whom he so wholly devoted\n      himself as to neglect the rest. They complained to their father, and\n      Daksha repeatedly interposed, till, finding his remonstrances vain,\n      he denounced a curse upon his son-in-law, in consequence of which he\n      remained childless and became affected by consumption. The wives of\n      Chandra having interceded in his behalf with their father, Daksha\n      modified an imprecation which he could not recall, and pronounced\n      that the decay should be periodical only, not permanent, and that it\n      should alternate with periods of recovery. Hence the successive wane\n      and increase of the Moon. _Padma_, _Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, _Swarga-Kha\u1e47\u1e0da,_ Sec.\n      II. _Rohi\u1e47\u00ed_ in Astronomy is the fourth lunar mansion, containing\n      five stars, the principal of which is Aldebaran.\u201d WILSON, _Specimens\n      of the Hindu Theatre. Vol. I. p._ 234.\n\n      The Bengal recension has a different reading:\n\n      \u201cShone with her husband like the light\n      Attendant on the Lord of Night.\u201d\n\n   26 The garb prescribed for ascetics by Manu.\n\n   27 \u201cMount Meru, situated like Kail\u00e1sa in the lofty regions to the north\n      of the Him\u00e1layas, is celebrated in the traditions and myths of\n      India. Meru and Kail\u00e1sa are the two Indian Olympi. Perhaps they were\n      held in such veneration because the Sanskrit-speaking Indians\n      remembered the ancient home where they dwelt with the other\n      primitive peoples of their family before they descended to occupy\n      the vast plains which extend between the Indus and the Ganges.\u201d\n      GORRESIO.\n\n   28 The third God of the Indian Triad, the God of destruction and\n      reproduction. See _Additional Notes_.\n\n   29 The epithet _dwija_, or _twice-born_, is usually appropriate to\n      Br\u00e1hmans, but is applicable to the three higher castes. Investiture\n      with the sacred thread and initiation of the neophyte into certain\n      religious mysteries are regarded as his regeneration or second\n      birth.\n\n   30 His shoes to be a memorial of the absent heir and to maintain his\n      right. K\u00e1lid\u00e1sa (Raghuva\u1e45\u015ba, XII. 17.) says that they were to be\n      _adhidevate_ or guardian deities of the kingdom.\n\n   31 Ja\u1e6d\u00e1yu, a semi-divine bird, the friend of R\u00e1ma, who fought in\n      defence of S\u00edt\u00e1.\n\n   32 Raghu was one of the most celebrated ancestors of R\u00e1ma whose\n      commonest appellation is, therefore, R\u00e1ghava or descendant of Raghu.\n      K\u00e1lid\u00e1sa in the _Raghura\u1e47\u015ba_ makes him the son of Dil\u00edpa and\n      great-grandfather of R\u00e1ma. See _Idylls from the Sanskrit_, \u201cAja\u201d and\n      \u201cDil\u00edpa.\u201d\n\n   33 Dundhubi.\n\n   34 Literally _ten yojanas_. The yojana is a measure of uncertain length\n      variously reckoned as equal to nine miles, five, and a little less.\n\n   35 Ceylon.\n\n   36 The Jonesia A\u015boka is a most beautiful tree bearing a profusion of\n      red blossoms.\n\n_   37 Brahm\u00e1_, the Creator, is usually regarded as the first God of the\n      Indian Trinity, although, as K\u00e1lid\u00e1sa says:\n\n      \u201cOf Brahm\u00e1, Vish\u1e47u, \u015aiva, each may be\n      First, second, third, amid the blessed Three.\u201d\n\n      Brahm\u00e1 had guaranteed R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s life against all enemies except man.\n\n   38 Ocean personified.\n\n   39 The rocks lying between Ceylon and the mainland are still called\n      R\u00e1ma\u2019s Bridge by the Hindus.\n\n   40 \u201cThe Br\u00e1hmans, with a system rather cosmogonical than chronological,\n      divide the present mundane period into four ages or _yugas_ as they\n      call them: the Krita, the Tret\u00e1, the Dw\u00e1para, and the Kali. The\n      Krita, called also the Deva-yuga or that of the Gods, is the age of\n      truth, the perfect age, the Tret\u00e1 is the age of the three sacred\n      fires, domestic and sacrificial; the Dw\u00e1para is the age of doubt;\n      the Kali, the present age, is the age of evil.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n   41 The ancient kings of India enjoyed lives of more than patriarchal\n      length as will appear in the course of the poem.\n\n   42 \u015a\u00fadras, men of the fourth and lowest pure caste, were not allowed to\n      read the poem, but might hear it recited.\n\n   43 The three _\u015blokes_ or distichs which these twelve lines represent\n      are evidently a still later and very awkward addition to the\n      introduction.\n\n   44 There are several rivers in India of this name, now corrupted into\n      _Tonse_. The river here spoken of is that which falls into the\n      Ganges a little below Allahabad.\n\n   45 \u201cIn Book II, Canto LIV, we meet with a saint of this name presiding\n      over a convent of disciples in his hermitage at the confluence of\n      the Ganges and the Jumna. Thence the later author of these\n      introductory cantos has borrowed the name and person, inconsistently\n      indeed, but with the intention of enhancing the dignity of the poet\n      by ascribing to him so celebrated a disciple.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n   46 The poet plays upon the similarity in sound of the two words:\n      _\u015boka_, means grief, _\u015bloka_, the heroic measure in which the poem\n      is composed. It need scarcely be said that the derivation is\n      fanciful.\n\n   47 Brahm\u00e1, the Creator, is usually regarded as the first person of the\n      divine triad of India. The four heads with which he is represented\n      are supposed to have allusion to the four corners of the earth which\n      he is sometimes considered to personify. As an object of adoration\n      Brahm\u00e1 has been entirely superseded by \u015aiva and Vish\u1e47u. In the whole\n      of India there is, I believe, but one temple dedicated to his\n      worship. In this point the first of the Indian triad curiously\n      resembles the last of the divine fraternity of Greece, A\u00efdes the\n      brother of Zeus and Poseidon. \u201cIn all Greece, says Pausanias, there\n      is no single temple of A\u00efdes, except at a single spot in Elis.\u201d See\n      Gladstone\u2019s Juventus Mundi, p. 253.\n\n   48 The _argha_ or _arghya_ was a libation or offering to a deity, a\n      Br\u00e1hman, or other venerable personage. According to one authority it\n      consisted of water, milk, the points of K\u00fasa-grass, curds, clarified\n      butter, rice, barley, and white mustard, according to another, of\n      saffron, bel, unbroken grain, flowers, curds, d\u00farb\u00e1-grass,\n      k\u00fasa-grass, and sesamum.\n\n   49 S\u00edt\u00e1, daughter of Janak king of M\u00edthil\u00e1.\n\n   50 \u201cI congratulate myself,\u201d says Schlegel in the preface to his, alas,\n      unfinished edition of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, \u201cthat, by the favour of the\n      Supreme Deity, I have been allowed to begin so great a work; I glory\n      and make my boast that I too after so many ages have helped to\n      confirm that ancient oracle declared to V\u00e1lm\u00edki by the Father of\n      Gods and men:\n\n      Dum stabunt montes, campis dum flumina current,\n      Usque tuum toto carmen celebrabitur orbe.\u201d\n\n   51 \u201cThe sipping of water is a requisite introduction of all rites:\n      without it, says the S\u00e1mha Pur\u00e1na, all acts of religion are vain.\u201d\n      COLEBROOKE.\n\n   52 The _darhha_ or _ku\u015ba_ (Pea cynosuroides), a kind of grass used in\n      sacrifice by the Hindus as _cerbena_ was by the Romans.\n\n   53 The direction in which the grass should be placed upon the ground as\n      a seat for the Gods, on occasion of offerings made to them.\n\n   54 Para\u015bur\u00e1ma or R\u00e1ma with the Axe. See Canto LXXIV.\n\n   55 S\u00edt\u00e1. Videha was the country of which M\u00edthil\u00e1 was the capital.\n\n   56 The twin sons of R\u00e1ma and S\u00edt\u00e1, born after R\u00e1ma had repudiated S\u00edt\u00e1,\n      and brought up in the hermitage of V\u00e1lm\u00edki. As they were the first\n      rhapsodists the combined name Ku\u015b\u00edlava signifies a reciter of poems,\n      or an improvisatore, even to the present day.\n\n   57 Perhaps the bass, tenor, and treble, or quick, slow and middle\n      times. we know but little of the ancient music of the Hindus.\n\n   58 Eight flavours or sentiments are usually enumerated, love, mirth,\n      tenderness, anger, heroism, terror, disgust, and surprise;\n      tranquility or content, or paternal tenderness, is sometimes\n      considered the ninth. WILSON. See the _S\u00e1hitya Darpa\u1e47a_ or _Mirror\n      of Composition_ translated by Dr. Ballantyne and B\u00e1b\u00fa Pramad\u00e1d\u00e1sa\n      Mittra in the _Bibliotheca Indica._\n\n   59 Saccharum Munja is a plant from whose fibres is twisted the sacred\n      string which a Br\u00e1hman wears over one shoulder after he has been\n      initiated by a rite which in some respects answers to confirmation.\n\n   60 A description of an A\u015bvamedha or Horse Sacrifice is given in Canto\n      XIII. of this Book.\n\n   61 This exploit is related in Canto XL.\n\n   62 The Sarj\u00fa or Ghaghra, anciently called Saray\u00fa, rises in the\n      Himalayas, and after flowing through the province of Oudh, falls\n      into the Ganges.\n\n   63 The ruins of the ancient capital of R\u00e1ma and the Children of the Sun\n      may still be traced in the present Ajudhy\u00e1 near Fyzabad. Ajudhy\u00e1 is\n      the Jerusalem or Mecca of the Hindus.\n\n   64 A legislator and saint, the son of Brahm\u00e1 or a personification of\n      Brahm\u00e1 himself, the creator of the world, and progenitor of mankind.\n      Derived from the root _man_ to think, the word means originally\n      _man_, the thinker, and is found in this sense in the Rig-veda.\n\n      Manu as a legislator is identified with the Cretan Minos, as\n      progenitor of mankind with the German Mannus: \u201cCelebrant carminibus\n      antiquis, quod unum apud illos memori\u00e6 et annalium genus est,\n      Tuisconem deum terra editum, et filium Mannum, originem gentis\n      conditoresque.\u201d TACITUS, _Germania_, Cap. II.\n\n   65 The S\u00e1l (Shorea Robusta) is a valuable timber tree of considerable\n      height.\n\n   66 The city of Indra is called Amar\u00e1vat\u00ed or Home of the Immortals.\n\n   67 Schlegel thinks that this refers to the marble of different colours\n      with which the houses were adorned. It seems more natural to\n      understand it as implying the regularity of the streets and houses.\n\n   68 The _\u015aataghn\u00ed_ _i.e. centicide_, or slayer of a hundred, is\n      generally supposed to be a sort of fire-arms, or the ancient Indian\n      rocket; but it is also described as a stone set round with iron\n      spikes.\n\n   69 The N\u00e1gas (serpents) are demigods with a human face and serpent\n      body. They inhabit P\u00e1t\u00e1la or the regions under the earth. Bhogavat\u00ed\n      is the name of their capital city. Serpents are still worshipped in\n      India. See Fergusson\u2019s _Tree and Serpent Worship_.\n\n   70 The fourth and lowest pure caste whose duty was to serve the three\n      first classes.\n\n   71 By forbidden marriages between persons of different castes.\n\n   72 V\u00e1hl\u00ed or V\u00e1hl\u00edka is Bactriana; its name is preserved in the modern\n      Balkh.\n\n   73 The Sanskrit word Sindhu is in the singular the name of the river\n      Indus, in the plural of the people and territories on its banks. The\n      name appears as _Hidku_ in the cuneiform inscription of Darius\u2019 son\n      of Hystaspes, in which the nations tributary to that king are\n      enumerated.\n\n      The Hebrew form is _Hodda_ (Esther, I. 1.). In Zend it appears as\n      _Hendu_ in a somewhat wider sense. With the Persians later the\n      signification of _Hind_ seems to have co-extended with their\n      increasing acquaintance with the country. The weak Ionic dialect\n      omitted the Persian _h_, and we find in Hecat\u00e6us and Herodotus \u1f3c\u03bd\u03b4\u03bf\u03c2\n      and \u1f21 \u1f38\u03bd\u03b4\u03b9\u03ba\u03ae. In this form the Romans received the names and\n      transmitted them to us. The Arabian geographers in their ignorance\n      that Hind and Sind are two forms of the same word have made of them\n      two brothers and traced their decent from Noah. See Lassen\u2019s\n      Indische Alterthumskunde Vol. I. pp. 2, 3.\n\n   74 The situation of Van\u00e1yu is not exactly determined: it seems to have\n      lain to the north-west of India.\n\n   75 K\u00e1mboja was probably still further to the north-west. Lassen thinks\n      that the name is etymologically connected with _Cambyses_ which in\n      the cuneiform inscription of Behistun is written Ka(m)bujia.\n\n   76 The elephants of Indra and other deities who preside over the four\n      points of the compass.\n\n   77 \u201cThere are four kinds of elephants. 1 _Bhaddar_. It is well\n      proportioned, has an erect head, a broad chest, large ears, a long\n      tail, and is bold and can bear fatigue. 2 _Mand_. It is black, has\n      yellow eyes, a uniformly sized body, and is wild and ungovernable. 3\n      _Mirg_. It has a whitish skin, with black spots. 4 _Mir_. It has a\n      small head, and obeys readily. It gets frightened when it thunders.\u201d\n      _A\u00edn-i-Akbar\u00ed._. Translated by H. Blochmann, A\u00edn 41, _The Imperial\n      Elephant Stables_.\n\n   78 Ayodhy\u00e1 means _not to be fought against_.\n\n   79 Attendants of Indra, eight Gods whose names signify fire, light and\n      its phenomena.\n\n   80 Ka\u015byap was a grandson of the God Brahm\u00e1. He is supposed to have\n      given his name to Kashm\u00edr = Ka\u015byapa-m\u00edra, Ka\u015byap\u2019s Lake.\n\n   81 The people of Anga. \u201cAnga is said in the lexicons to be Bengal; but\n      here certainly another region is intended situated at the confluence\n      of the Sarj\u00fa with the Ganges, and not far distant from Da\u015baratha\u2019s\n      dominions.\u201d GORRESIO. It comprised part of Behar and Bhagulpur.\n\n   82 The Ko\u00efl or _kokila_ (Cuculus Indicus) as the harbinger of spring\n      and love is a universal favourite with Indian poets. His voice when\n      first heard in a glorious spring morning is not unpleasant, but\n      becomes in the hot season intolerably wearisome to European ears.\n\n   83 \u201cSons and Paradise are intimately connected in Indian belief. A man\n      desires above every thing to have a son to perpetuate his race, and\n      to assist with sacrifices and funeral rites to make him worthy to\n      obtain a lofty seat in heaven or to preserve that which he has\n      already obtained.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n   84 One of the Pleiades and generally regarded as the model of wifely\n      excellence.\n\n   85 The Hindu year is divided into six seasons of two months each,\n      spring, summer, rains, autumn, winter, and dews.\n\n   86 It was essential that the horse should wander free for a year before\n      immolation, as a sign that his master\u2019s paramount sovereignty was\n      acknowledged by all neighbouring princes.\n\n   87 Called also Vidcha, later Tirabhukti, corrupted into the modern\n      Tirhut, a province bounded on the west and east by the Gaudak\u00ed and\n      Kau\u015bik\u00ed rivers, on the south by the Ganges, and on the north by the\n      skirts of the Him\u00e1layas.\n\n   88 The celebrated city of Benares. See Dr. Hall\u2019s learned and\n      exhaustive Monograph in the _Sacred City of the Hindus_, by the Rev.\n      M. A. Sherring.\n\n   89 Kekaya is supposed to have been in the Panj\u00e1b. The name of the king\n      was A\u015bvapati (Lord of Horses), father of Da\u015baratha\u2019s wife Kaikey\u00ed.\n\n   90 Surat.\n\n   91 Apparently in the west of India not far from the Indus.\n\n   92 \u201cThe Pravargya ceremony lasts for three days, and is always\n      performed twice a day, in the forenoon and afternoon. It precedes\n      the animal and Soma sacrifices. For without having undergone it, no\n      one is allowed to take part in the solemn Soma feast prepared for\n      the gods.\u201d Haug\u2019s _Aitareya Br\u00e1hma\u1e47am_. Vol. II. p. 41. note _q.v._\n\n_   93 Upasads_. \u201cThe Gods said, Let us perform the burnt offerings called\n      Upasads (_i.e._ besieging). For by means of an _Upasad_, _i.e._\n      besieging, they conquer a large (fortified) town.\u201d\u2014_Ibid._ p. 32.\n\n   94 The Soma plant, or Asclepias Acida. Its fermented juice was drunk in\n      sacrifice by the priests and offered to the Gods who enjoyed the\n      intoxicating draught.\n\n   95 \u201cTum in c\u00e6rimoniarum intervallis Brachman\u00e6 facundi, sollertes,\n      crebros sermones de rerum causis instituebant, alter alterum\n      vincendi cupidi. This public disputation in the assembly of Br\u00e1hmans\n      on the nature of things, and the almost fraternal connexion between\n      theology and philosophy deserves some notice; whereas the priests of\n      some religions are generally but little inclined to show favour to\n      philosophers, nay, sometimes persecute them with the most rancorous\n      hatred, as we are taught both by history and experience.\u2026 This \u015bloka\n      is found in the MSS. of different recensions of the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, and we\n      have, therefore, the most trustworthy testimony to the antiquity of\n      philosophy among the Indians.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n   96 The _Angas_ or appendices of the Vedas, pronunciation, prosody,\n      grammar, ritual, astronomy, and explanation of obscurities.\n\n   97 In Sanskrit _vilva_, the _\u00c6gle Marmelos_. \u201cHe who desires food and\n      wishes to grow fat, ought to make his Y\u00fapa (sacrificial post) of\n      Bilva wood.\u201d Haug\u2019s _A\u00edtareya Br\u00e1hmanam. Vol. II._ p. 73.\n\n   98 The _Mimosa Catechu_. \u201cHe who desires heaven ought to make his Y\u00fapa\n      of Kh\u00e1dira wood.\u201d\u2014_Ibid._\n\n   99 The _Butea Frondosa_. \u201cHe who desires beauty and sacred knowledge\n      ought to make his Y\u00fapa of Pal\u00e1\u015ba wood.\u201d\u2014_Ibid._\n\n  100 The _Cardia Latifolia_.\n\n  101 A kind of pine. The word means literally the tree of the Gods.\n      Compare the Hebrew \u05e2\u05e6\u05d9 \u05d9\u05d4\u05d5\u05d4 \u201ctrees of the Lord.\u201d\n\n  102 The Hindus call the constellation of Ursa Major the Seven Rishis or\n      Saints.\n\n  103 A minute account of these ancient ceremonies would be out of place\n      here. \u201c\u00c1gnish\u1e6doma is the name of a sacrifice, or rather a series of\n      offerings to fire for five days. It is the first and principal part\n      of the Jyotish\u1e6doma, one of the great sacrifices in which especially\n      the juice of the Soma plant is offered for the purpose of obtaining\n      Swarga or heaven.\u201d GOLDST\u00dcCKER\u2019S DICTIONARY. \u201cThe _\u00c1gnish\u1e6doma_ is\n      Agni. It is called so because they (the gods) praised him with this\n      Stoma. They called it so to hide the proper meaning of the word: for\n      the gods like to hide the proper meaning of words.\u201d\n\n      \u201cOn account of four classes of gods having praised Agni with four\n      Stomas, the whole was called _Chatush\u1e6doma_ (containing four\n      Stomas).\u201d\n\n      \u201cIt (the \u00c1gnish\u1e6doma) is called _Jyotish\u1e6doma_, for they praised Agni\n      when he had risen up (to the sky) in the shape of a light\n      (_jyotis_).\u201d\n\n      \u201cThis (\u00c1gnish\u1e6doma) is a sacrificial performance which has no\n      beginning and no end.\u201d HAUG\u2019S _Aitareya Br\u00e1hma\u1e47am_.\n\n      The Atir\u00e1tra, literally _lasting through the night_, is a division\n      of the service of the Jyotish\u1e6doma.\n\n      The Abhijit, _the everywhere victorious_, is the name of a\n      sub-division of the great sacrifice of the Gav\u00e1manaya.\n\n      The Vi\u015bvajit, or _the all-conquering_, is a similar sub-division.\n\n      \u00c1yus is the name of a service forming a division of the Abhiplava\n      sacrifice.\n\n      The _Aptory\u00e1m_, is the seventh or last part of the Jyotish\u1e6doma, for\n      the performance of which it is not essentially necessary, but a\n      voluntary sacrifice instituted for the attainment of a specific\n      desire. The literal meaning of the word would be in conformity with\n      the _Prau\u1e0dhamanoram\u00e1_, \u201ca sacrifice which procures the attainment of\n      the desired object.\u201d GOLDST\u00dcCKER\u2019S DICTIONARY.\n\n      \u201cThe _Ukthya_ is a slight modification of the \u00c1gnish\u1e6doma sacrifice.\n      The noun to be supplied to it is _kratu_. It is a Soma sacrifice\n      also, and one of the seven Sa\u1e47sthas or component parts of the\n      Jyotish\u1e6doma. Its name indicates its nature. For _Ukthya_ means \u2018what\n      refers to the Uktha,\u2019 which is an older name for Sh\u00e1stra, _i.e._\n      recitation of one of the Hotri priests at the time of the Soma\n      libations. Thus this sacrifice is only a kind of supplement to the\n      \u00c1gnish\u1e6doma.\u201d HAUG. _Ai. B._\n\n  104 \u201cFour classes of priests were required in India at the most solemn\n      sacrifices. 1. The officiating priests, manual labourers, and\n      acolytes, who had chiefly to prepare the sacrificial ground, to\n      dress the altar, slay the victims, and pour out the libations. 2.\n      The choristers, who chant the sacred hymns. 3. The reciters or\n      readers, who repeat certain hymns. 4. The overseers or bishops, who\n      watch and superintend the proceedings of the other priests, and\n      ought to be familiar with all the Vedas. The formulas and verses to\n      be muttered by the first class are contained in the\n      Yajur-veda-sanhit\u00e1. The hymns to be sung by the second class are in\n      the Sama-veda-sanhit\u00e1. The Atharva-veda is said to be intended for\n      the Brahman or overseer, who is to watch the proceedings of the\n      sacrifice, and to remedy any mistake that may occur. The hymns to be\n      recited by the third class are contained in the Rigveda,\u201d _Chips\n      from a German Workshop._\n\n  105 The Maruts are the winds, deified in the religion of the Veda like\n      other mighty powers and phenomena of nature.\n\n  106 A Titan or fiend whose destruction has given Vish\u1e47u one of his\n      well-known titles, M\u00e1dhava.\n\n  107 The garden of Indra.\n\n  108 One of the most ancient and popular of the numerous names of Vish\u1e47u.\n      The word has been derived in several ways, and may mean _he who\n      moved on the (primordial) waters_, or _he who pervades or influences\n      men or their thoughts_.\n\n  109 The Horse-Sacrifice, just described.\n\n  110 To walk round an object keeping the right side towards it is a mark\n      of great respect. The Sanskrit word for the observance is\n      _pradakshi\u1e47\u00e1_, from pra pro, and _daksha_ right, Greek \u03b4\u03b5\u03be\u03af\u03bf\u03c2, Latin\n      dexter, Gaelic deas-il. A similar ceremony is observed by the Gaels.\n\n      \u201cIn the meantime she traced around him, with wavering steps, the\n      propitiation, which some have thought has been derived from the\n      Druidical mythology. It consists, as is well known, in the person\n      who makes the _deasil_ walking three times round the person who is\n      the object of the ceremony, taking care to move according to the\n      course of the sun.\u201d\n\n      SCOTT. _The Two Drovers._\n\n  111 The _Amrit_, the nectar of the Indian Gods.\n\n_  112 Gandharvas_ (Southey\u2019s Glendoveers) are celestial musicians\n      inhabiting Indra\u2019s heaven and forming the orchestra at all the\n      banquets of the principal deities.\n\n_  113 Yakshas_, demigods attendant especially on Kuvera, and employed by\n      him in the care of his garden and treasures.\n\n_  114 Kimpurushas_, demigods attached also to the service of Kuvera,\n      celestial musicians, represented like centaurs reversed with human\n      figures and horses\u2019 heads.\n\n_  115 Siddhas_, demigods or spirits of undefined attributes, occupying\n      with the _Vidy\u00e1dharas_ the middle air or region between the earth\n      and the sun.\n\n      Schlegel translates: \u201cDivi, Sapientes, Fidicines, Pr\u00e6petes,\n      illustres Genii, Pr\u00e6conesque procrearunt natos, masculos,\n      silvicolas; angues porro, Hippocephali Beati, Aligeri, Serpentesque\n      frequentes alacriter generavere prolem innumerabilem.\u201d\n\n  116 A mountain in the south of India.\n\n  117 The preceptor of the Gods and regent of the planet Jupiter.\n\n  118 The celestial architect, the Indian Heph\u00e6stus, Mulciber, or Vulcan.\n\n  119 The God of Fire.\n\n  120 Twin children of the Sun, the physicians of Swarga or Indra\u2019s\n      heaven.\n\n  121 The deity of the waters.\n\n  122 Parjanya, sometimes confounded with Indra.\n\n  123 The bird and vehicle of Vish\u1e47u. He is generally represented as a\n      being something between a man and a bird and considered as the\n      sovereign of the feathered race. He may be compared with the Simurgh\n      of the Persians, the \u2019Ank\u00e1 of the Arabs, the Griffin of chivalry,\n      the Ph\u0153nix of Egypt, and the bird that sits upon the ash Yggdrasil\n      of the Edda.\n\n  124 This Canto will appear ridiculous to the European reader. But it\n      should be remembered that the monkeys of an Indian forest, the\n      \u201cbough-deer\u201d as the poets call them, are very different animals from\n      the \u201cturpissima bestia\u201d that accompanies the itinerant organ-grinder\n      or grins in the Zoological Gardens of London. Milton has made his\n      hero, Satan, assume the forms of a cormorant, a toad, and a serpent,\n      and I cannot see that this creation of semi-divine V\u00e1nars, or\n      monkeys, is more ridiculous or undignified.\n\n  125 The consort of Indra, called also \u015aach\u00ed and Indr\u00e1\u1e47\u00ed.\n\n  126 The _Michelia champaca_. It bears a scented yellow blossom:\n\n      \u201cThe maid of India blest again to hold\n      In her full lap the Champac\u2019s leaves of gold.\u201d\n\n      _Lallah Rookh._\n\n  127 Vibh\u00e1\u1e47dak, the father of Rishya\u015bring\n\n  128 A hemi\u015bloka is wanting in Schlegel\u2019s text, which he thus fills up in\n      his Latin translation.\n\n  129 Rishya\u015bring, a Br\u00e1hman, had married \u015a\u00e1nt\u00e1 who was of the Kshatriya\n      or Warrior caste and an expiatory ceremony was necessary on account\n      of this violation of the law.\n\n  130 \u201cThe poet no doubt intended to indicate the vernal equinox as the\n      birthday of R\u00e1ma. For the month _Chaitra_ is the first of the two\n      months assigned to the spring; it corresponds with the latter half\n      of March and the former half of April in our division of the year.\n      _Aditi_, the mother of the Gods, is lady of the seventh lunar\n      mansion which is called _Punarvasu_. The five planets and their\n      positions in the Zodiac are thus enumerated by both commentators:\n      the Sun in Aries, Mars in Capricorn, Saturn in Libra, Jupiter in\n      Cancer, Venus in Pisces.\u2026 I leave to astronomers to examine whether\n      the parts of the description agree with one another, and, if this be\n      the case, thence to deduce the date. The Indians place the nativity\n      of R\u00e1ma in the confines of the second age (tret\u00e1) and the third\n      (dw\u00e1para): but it seems that this should be taken in an allegorical\n      sense.\u2026 We may consider that the poet had an eye to the time in\n      which, immediately before his own age, the aspects of the heavenly\n      bodies were such as he has described.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n  131 The regent of the planet Jupiter.\n\n  132 Indra = Jupiter Tonans.\n\n  133 \u201c_Pushya_ is the name of a month; but here it means the eighth\n      mansion. The ninth is called _Aslesh\u00e1_, or the snake. It is evident\n      from this that Bharat, though his birth is mentioned before that of\n      the twins, was the youngest of the four brothers and R\u00e1ma\u2019s junior\n      by eleven months.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n  134 A fish, the Zodiacal sign _Pisces_.\n\n  135 One of the constellations, containing stars in the wing of Pegasus.\n\n  136 R\u00e1ma means the Delight (of the World); Bharat, the Supporter;\n      Lakshma\u1e47, the Auspicious; \u015aatrughna, the Slayer of Foes.\n\n  137 Schlegel, in the _Indische Bibliothek_, remarks that the proficiency\n      of the Indians in this art early attracted the attention of\n      Alexander\u2019s successors, and natives of India were so long\n      exclusively employed in this service that the name Indian was\n      applied to any elephant-driver, to whatever country he might belong.\n\n  138 The story of this famous saint is given at sufficient length in\n      Cantos LI-LV.\n\n      This saint has given his name to the district and city to the east\n      of Benares. The original name, preserved in a land-grant on copper\n      now in the Museum of the Benares College, has been Moslemized into\n      Ghazeepore (the City of the Soldier-martyr).\n\n  139 The son of Ku\u015bik is Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra.\n\n  140 At the recollection of their former enmity, to be described\n      hereafter.\n\n  141 The Indian nectar or drink of the Gods.\n\n  142 Great joy, according to the Hindu belief, has this effect, not\n      causing each particular hair to stand on end, but gently raising all\n      the down upon the body.\n\n  143 The R\u00e1kshasas, giants, or fiends who are represented as disturbing\n      the sacrifice, signify here, as often elsewhere, merely the savage\n      tribes which placed themselves in hostile opposition to Br\u00e1hmanical\n      institutions.\n\n  144 Consisting of horse, foot, chariots, and elephants.\n\n  145 \u201cThe Gandharvas, or heavenly bards, had originally a warlike\n      character but were afterwards reduced to the office of celestial\n      musicians cheering the banquets of the Gods. Dr. Kuhn has shown\n      their identity with the Centaurs in name, origin and attributes.\u201d\n      GORRESIO.\n\n  146 These mysterious animated weapons are enumerated in Cantos XXIX and\n      XXX. Daksha was the son of Brahm\u00e1 and one of the Praj\u00e1patis,\n      Demiurgi, or secondary authors of creation.\n\n  147 Youths of the Kshatriya class used to leave unshorn the side locks\n      of their hair. These were called _K\u00e1ka-paksha_, or raven\u2019s wings.\n\n  148 The R\u00e1kshas or giant R\u00e1va\u1e47, king of Lank\u00e1.\n\n  149 \u201cThe meaning of A\u015bvins (from _a\u015bva_ a horse, Persian asp, Greek\n      \u1f35\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2, Latin _equus_, Welsh ech) is Horsemen. They were twin deities\n      of whom frequent mention is made in the Vedas and the Indian myths.\n      The A\u015bvins have much in common with the Dioscuri of Greece, and\n      their mythical genealogy seems to indicate that their origin was\n      astronomical. They were, perhaps, at first the morning star and\n      evening star. They are said to be the children of the sun and the\n      nymph A\u015bvin\u00ed, who is one of the lunar asterisms personified. In the\n      popular mythology they are regarded as the physicians of the Gods.\u201d\n      GORRESIO.\n\n  150 The word Kum\u00e1ra (a young prince, a Childe) is also a proper name of\n      Skanda or K\u00e1rtikeya God of War, the son of \u015aiva and Um\u00e1. The babe\n      was matured in the fire.\n\n  151 \u201cAt the rising of the sun as well as at noon certain observances,\n      invocations, and prayers were prescribed which might under no\n      circumstances be omitted. One of these observances was the\n      recitation of the S\u00e1vitr\u00ed, a Vedic hymn to the Sun of wonderful\n      beauty.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n_  152 Tripathaga_, _Three-path-go,_ flowing in heaven, on earth, and\n      under the earth. See Canto XLV.\n\n  153 Tennyson\u2019s \u201cIndian Cama,\u201d the God of Love, known also by many other\n      names.\n\n_  154 Um\u00e1_, or _Parvat\u00ed_, was daughter of Him\u00e1laya, Monarch of mountains,\n      and wife of \u015aiva. See K\u00e1lidasa\u2019s _Kum\u00e1ra Sambhava_, or _Birth of the\n      War-God_.\n\n_  155 Sth\u00e1\u1e47u_. The Unmoving one, a name of \u015aiva.\n\n  156 \u201cThe practice of austerities, voluntary tortures, and mortifications\n      was anciently universal in India, and was held by the Indians to be\n      of immense efficacy. Hence they mortified themselves to expiate\n      sins, to acquire merits, and to obtain superhuman gifts and powers;\n      the Gods themselves sometimes exercised themselves in such\n      austerities, either to raise themselves to greater power and\n      grandeur, or to counteract the austerities of man which threatened\n      to prevail over them and to deprive them of heaven.\u2026 Such\n      austerities were called in India _tapas_ (burning ardour, fervent\n      devotion) and he who practised them _tapasvin_.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n_  157 The Bodiless one._\n\n  158 \u201cA celebrated lake regarded in India as sacred. It lies in the lofty\n      region between the northern highlands of the Him\u00e1layas and mount\n      Kail\u00e1sa, the region of the sacred lakes. The poem, following the\n      popular Indian belief, makes the river Saray\u00fa (now Sarj\u00fa) flow from\n      the M\u00e1nasa lake; the sources of the river are a little to the south\n      about a day\u2019s journey from the lake. See Lassen, _Indische\n      Alterthumshunde_, page 34.\u201d GORRESIO. _Manas_ means mind; _m\u00e1nasa_,\n      mental, mind-born.\n\n_  159 Sarovar_ means best of lakes. This is another of the poet\u2019s\n      fanciful etymologies.\n\n  160 The confluence of two or more rivers is often a venerated and holy\n      place. The most famous is Pray\u00e1g or Allahabad, where the Sarasvat\u00ed\n      by an underground course is believed to join the Jumna and the\n      Ganges.\n\n  161 The botanical names of the trees mentioned in the text are Grislea\n      Tormentosa, Shorea Robusta, Echites Antidysenterica, Bignonia\n      Suaveolens, \u0152gle Marmelos, and Diospyrus Glutinosa. I have omitted\n      the _Kutaja_ (Echites) and the _Ti\u1e47\u1e0duka_ (Diospyrus).\n\n  162 Here we meet with a fresh myth to account for the name of these\n      regions. _Malaja_ is probably a non-Aryan word signifying a hilly\n      country: taken as a Sanskrit compound it means _sprung from\n      defilement_. The word _Kar\u00fasha_ appears to have a somewhat similar\n      meaning.\n\n  163 \u201cThis is one of those indefinable mythic personages who are found in\n      the ancient traditions of many nations, and in whom cosmogonical or\n      astronomical notions are generally figured. Thus it is related of\n      Agastya that the Vindhyan mountains prostrated themselves before\n      him; and yet the same Agastya is believed to be regent of the star\n      Canopus.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n      He will appear as the friend and helper of R\u00e1ma farther on in the\n      poem.\n\n  164 The famous pleasure-garden of Kuvera the God of Wealth.\n\n  165 \u201cThe whole of this Canto together with the following one, regards\n      the belief, formerly prevalent in India, that by virtue of certain\n      spells, to be learnt and muttered, secret knowledge and superhuman\n      powers might be acquired. To this the poet has already alluded in\n      Canto xxiii. These incorporeal weapons are partly represented\n      according to the fashion of those ascribed to the Gods and the\n      different orders of demi-gods, partly are the mere creations of\n      fancy; and it would not be easy to say what idea the poet had of\n      them in his own mind, or what powers he meant to assign to each.\u201d\n      SCHLEGEL.\n\n  166 \u201cIn Sanskrit _Sank\u00e1ra_, a word which has various significations but\n      the primary meaning of which is _the act of seizing_. A magical\n      power seems to be implied of employing the weapons when and where\n      required. The remarks I have made on the preceding Canto apply with\n      still greater force to this. The MSS. greatly vary in the\n      enumeration of these _Sank\u00e1ras_, and it is not surprising that\n      copyists have incorrectly written the names which they did not well\n      understand. The commentators throw no light upon the subject.\u201d\n      SCHLEGEL. I have taken the liberty of omitting four of these which\n      Schlegel translates \u201cScleromphalum, Euomphalum, Centiventrem, and\n      Chrysomphalum.\u201d\n\n  167 I omit, after this line, eight _\u015blokes_ which, as Schlegel allows,\n      are quite out of place.\n\n  168 This is the fifth of the _avat\u00e1rs_, descents or incarnations of\n      Vish\u1e47u.\n\n  169 This is a solar allegory. Vish\u1e47u is the sun, the three steps being\n      his rising, culmination, and setting.\n\n  170 Certain ceremonies preliminary to a sacrifice.\n\n  171 A river which rises in Budelcund and falls into the Ganges near\n      Patna. It is called also _Hira\u1e47yar\u00e1hu_, Golden-armed, and\n      _Hira\u1e47yar\u00e1ha_, Auriferous.\n\n  172 The modern Berar.\n\n  173 According to the Bengal recension the first (Ku\u015b\u00e1mba) is called\n      Ku\u015b\u00e1\u015bva, and his city Kau\u015b\u00e1\u015bv\u00ed. This name does not occur elsewhere.\n      The reading of the northern recension is confirmed by Fo\u00ea Kou\u00ea Ki;\n      p. 385, where the city _Kiaoshangmi_ is mentioned. It lay 500 _lis_\n      to the south-west of _Pray\u00e1ga_, on the south bank of the Jumna.\n      _Mahodaya_ is another name of Kanyakubja: _Dharm\u00e1ra\u1e47ya_, the wood to\n      which the God of Justice is said to have fled through fear of Soma\n      the Moon-God was in Magadh. Girivraja was in the same neighbourhood.\n      See Lasson\u2019s I, A. Vol. I. p. 604.\n\n  174 That is, the City of the Bent Virgins, the modern Kanauj or Canouge.\n\n  175 Literally, Given by _Brahma_ or devout contemplation.\n\n  176 Now called Ko\u015b\u00ed (Cosy) corrupted from Kau\u015bik\u00ed, daughter of Ku\u015b]a.\n\n      \u201cThis is one of those personifications of rivers so frequent in the\n      Grecian mythology, but in the similar myths is seen the impress of\n      the genius of each people, austere and profoundly religious in\n      India, graceful and devoted to the worship of external beauty in\n      Greece.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  177 One of the names of the Ganges considered as the daughter of Jahnu.\n      See Canto XLIV.\n\n  178 The Indian Crane.\n\n  179 Or, rather, geese.\n\n  180 A name of the God \u015aiva.\n\n  181 Garu\u1e0da.\n\n  182 Ikshv\u00e1ku, the name of a king of Ayodhy\u00e1 who is regarded as the\n      founder of the Solar race, means also a _gourd_. Hence, perhaps, the\n      myth.\n\n  183 \u201cThe region here spoken of is called in the Laws of Manu\n      _Madhyade\u015ba_ or the middle region. \u2018The region situated between the\n      Him\u00e1laya and the Vindhya Mountains \u2026 is called _Madhyade\u015ba_, or the\n      middle region; the space comprised between these two mountains from\n      the eastern to the western sea is called by sages \u00c1ry\u00e1vartta, _the\n      seat of honourable men_.\u2019 (MANU, II, 21, 22.) The Sanskrit Indians\n      called themselves \u00c1ryans, which means _honourable_, _noble_, to\n      distinguish themselves from the surrounding nations of different\n      origin.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  184 Said to be so called from the Jambu, or Rose Apple, abounding in it,\n      and signifying according to the Pur\u00e1nas the central division of the\n      world, the known world.\n\n  185 Here used as a name of Vish\u1e47u.\n\n  186 Kings are called the husbands of their kingdoms or of the earth;\n      \u201cShe and his kingdom were his only brides.\u201d _Raghuva\u1e45\u015ba._\n\n        \u201cDoubly divorced! Bad men, you violate\n      A double marriage, \u2019twixt my crown and me,\n      And then between me and my married wife.\u201d\n\n      King Richard II. Act V. Sc. I.\n\n  187 The thirty-three Gods are said in the _Aitareya Br\u00e1hma\u1e47a_, Book I.\n      ch. II. 10. to be the eight Vasus, the eleven Rudras, the twelve\n      \u00c1dityas, Praj\u00e1pati, either Brahm\u00e1 or Daksha, and Vashatk\u00e1ra or\n      deified oblation. This must have been the actual number at the\n      beginning of the Vedic religion gradually increased by successive\n      mythical and religious creations till the Indian Pantheon was\n      crowded with abstractions of every kind. Through the reverence with\n      which the words of the Veda were regarded, the immense host of\n      multiplied divinities, in later times, still bore the name of the\n      Thirty-three Gods.\n\n  188 \u201cOne of the elephants which, according to an ancient belief popular\n      in India, supported the earth with their enormous backs; when one of\n      these elephants shook his wearied head the earth trembled with its\n      woods and hills. An idea, or rather a mythical fancy, similar to\n      this, but reduced to proportions less grand, is found in Virgil when\n      he speaks of Enceladus buried under \u00c6tna:\u201d\n\n      \u201cadi semiustum fulmine corpus\n      Urgeri mole hac, ingentemque insuper \u00c6tnam\n      Impositam, ruptis flammam expirare caminis;\n      Et fessum quoties mutat latus, intre mere omnem\n      iam, et c\u0153lum subtexere fumo.\u201d\n\n      \u00c6neid. Lib. III. GORRESIO.\n\n  189 \u201cThe Devas and Asuras (Gods and Titans) fought in the east, the\n      south, the west, and the north, and the Devas were defeated by the\n      Asuras in all these directions. They then fought in the\n      north-eastern direction; there the Devas did not sustain defeat.\n      This direction is _apar\u00e1jit\u00e1_, _i.e._ unconquerable. Thence one\n      should do work in this direction, and have it done there; for such a\n      one (alone) is able to clear off his debts.\u201d HAUG\u2019S _Aitareya\n      Br\u00e1hmanam_, Vol. II, p. 33.\n\n      The debts here spoken of are a man\u2019s religious obligations to the\n      Gods, the Pitaras or Manes, and men.\n\n  190 Vish\u1e47u.\n\n  191 \u201cIt appears to me that this mythical story has reference to the\n      volcanic phenomena of nature. Kapil may very possibly be that hidden\n      fiery force which suddenly unprisons itself and bursts forth in\n      volcanic effects. Kapil is, moreover, one of the names of Agni the\n      God of Fire.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  192 Garu\u1e0d was the son of Ka\u015byap and Vinat\u00e1.\n\n  193 Garu\u1e0d.\n\n  194 A famous and venerated region near the Malabar coast.\n\n  195 That is four fires and the sun.\n\n  196 Heaven.\n\n  197 Wind-Gods.\n\n  198 \u015aiva.\n\n  199 The lake Vindu does not exist. Of the seven rivers here mentioned\n      two only, the Ganges and the Sindhu or Indus, are known to\n      geographers. Hl\u00e1din\u00ed means the Gladdener, P\u00e1van\u00ed the Purifier,\n      Nalin\u00ed the Lotus-Clad, and Suchakshu the Fair-eyed.\n\n  200 The First or Golden Age.\n\n  201 Diti and Aditi were wives of Ka\u015byap, and mothers respectively of\n      Titans and Gods.\n\n  202 One of the seven seas surrounding as many worlds in concentric\n      rings.\n\n  203 \u015aankar and Rudra are names of \u015aiva.\n\n  204 \u201c\u015a\u00e1r\u1e45gin, literally _carrying a bow of horn_, is a constantly\n      recurring name of Vish\u1e47u. The Indians also, therefore, knew the art\n      of making bows out of the hons of antelopes or wild goats, which\n      Homer ascribes to the Trojans of the heroic age.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n  205 Dhanvantari, the physician of the Gods.\n\n  206 The poet plays upon the word and fancifully derives it from _apsu_,\n      the locative case plural of _ap_, water, and _rasa_, taste.\u2026 The\n      word is probably derived from _ap_, water, and _sri_, to go, and\n      seems to signify _inhabitants of the water_, nymphs of the stream;\n      or, as Goldst\u00fccker thinks (Dict. s.v.) these divinities were\n      originally personifications of the vapours which are attracted by\n      the sun and form into mist or clouds.\n\n  207 \u201c_Sur\u00e1_, in the feminine comprehends all sorts of intoxicating\n      liquors, many kinds of which the Indians from the earliest times\n      distilled and prepared from rice, sugar-cane, the palm tree, and\n      various flowers and plants. Nothing is considered more disgraceful\n      among orthodox Hindus than drunkenness, and the use of wine is\n      forbidden not only to Br\u00e1hmans but the two other orders as well.\u2026 So\n      it clearly appears derogatory to the dignity of the Gods to have\n      received a nymph so pernicious, who ought rather to have been made\n      over to the Titans. However the etymological fancy has prevailed.\n      The word _Sura_, a God, is derived from the indeclinable _Swar_\n      heaven.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n  208 Literally, high-eared, the horse of Indra. Compare the production of\n      the horse from the sea by Neptune.\n\n        209 \u201cAnd Kaustubha the best\n      Of gems that burns with living light\n      Upon Lord Vish\u1e47u\u2019s breast.\u201d\n\n      _Churning of the Ocean._\n\n  210 \u201cThat this story of the birth of Lakshm\u00ed is of considerable\n      antiquity is evident from one of her names _Ksh\u00edr\u00e1bdhi-tanay\u00e1_,\n      daughter of the Milky Sea, which is found in _Amarasinha_ the most\n      ancient of Indian lexicographers. The similarity to the Greek myth\n      of Venus being born from the foam of the sea is remarkable.\u201d\n\n      \u201cIn this description of Lakshm\u00ed one thing only offends me, that she\n      is said to have four arms. Each of Vish\u1e47u\u2019s arms, single, as far as\n      the elbow, there branches into two; but Lakshm\u00ed in all the brass\n      seals that I possess or remember to have seen has two arms only. Nor\n      does this deformity of redundant limbs suit the pattern of perfect\n      beauty.\u201d SCHLEGEL. I have omitted the offensive epithet.\n\n  211 Purandhar, a common title of Indra.\n\n  212 A few verses are here left untranslated on account of the subject\n      and language being offensive to modern taste.\n\n  213 \u201cIn this myth of Indra destroying the unborn fruit of Diti with his\n      thunderbolt, from which afterwards came the Maruts or Gods of Wind\n      and Storm, geological phenomena are, it seems, represented under\n      mythical images. In the great Mother of the Gods is, perhaps,\n      figured the dry earth: Indra the God of thunder rends it open, and\n      there issue from its rent bosom the Maruts or exhalations of the\n      earth. But such ancient myths are difficult to interpret with\n      absolute certainty.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  214 Wind.\n\n  215 Indra, with _mah\u00e1_, great, prefixed.\n\n  216 The Heavenly Twins.\n\n  217 Not banished from heaven as the inferior Gods and demigods sometimes\n      were.\n\n  218 Kum\u00e1rila says: \u201cIn the same manner, if it is said that Indra was the\n      seducer of Ahaly\u00e1 this does not imply that the God Indra committed\n      such a crime, but Indra means the sun, and Ahaly\u00e1 (from ahan and l\u00ed)\n      the night; and as the night is seduced and ruined by the sun of the\n      morning, therefore is Indra called the paramour of Ahaly\u00e1.\u201d MAX\n      MULLER, _History of Ancient Sanskrit Literature, p. 530_.\n\n  219 \u201cThe preceding sixteen lines have occurred before in Canto XLVIII.\n      This Homeric custom of repeating a passage of several lines is\n      strange to our poet. This is the only instance I remember. The\n      repetition of single lines is common enough.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n  220 Divine personages of minute size produced from the hair of Brahm\u00e1,\n      and probably the origin of\n\n            \u201cThat small infantry\n      Warred on by cranes.\u201d\n\n  221 Sweet, salt, pungent, bitter, acid, and astringent.\n\n  222 \u201cOf old hoards and minerals in the earth, the king is entitled to\n      half by reason of his general protection, and because he is the lord\n      paramount of the soil.\u201d MANU, Book VIII. 39.\n\n  223 Gh\u00ed or clarified butter, \u201choly oil,\u201d being one of the essentials of\n      sacrifice.\n\n  224 \u201cA Br\u00e1hman had five principal duties to discharge every day: study\n      and teaching the Veda, oblations to the manes or spirits of the\n      departed, sacrifice to the Gods, hospitable offerings to men, and _a\n      gift of food to all creatures_. The last consisted of rice or other\n      grain which the Br\u00e1hman was to offer every day outside his house in\n      the open air. MANU, Book III. 70.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  225 These were certain sacred words of invocation such a _sv\u00e1h\u00e1_,\n      _vasha\u1e6d_, etc., pronounced at the time of sacrifice.\n\n  226 \u201cIt is well known that the Persians were called Pahlavas by the\n      Indians. The _\u015aakas_ are nomad tribes inhabiting Central Asia, the\n      Scythes of the Greeks, whom the Persians also, as Herodotus tells\n      us, called Sak\u00e6 just as the Indians did. Lib. VII 64 \u1f41\u03b9 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03a0\u03ad\u03c1\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03a3\u03cd\u03b8\u03b1\u03c2. \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u03ad\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9 \u03a3\u03ac\u03ba\u03b1\u03c2. The name Yavans seems to be used\n      rather indefinitely for nations situated beyond Persia to the west.\u2026\n      After the time of Alexander the Great the Indians as well as the\n      Persians called the Greeks also Yavans.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n      Lassen thinks that the Pahlavas were the same people as the \u03a0\u03ac\u03ba\u03c4\u03c5\u03b5\u03c2\n      of Herodotus, and that this non-Indian people dwelt on the\n      north-west confines of India.\n\n  227 See page 13, note 6.\n\n  228 Barbarians, non-Sanskrit-speaking tribes.\n\n  229 A comprehensive term for foreign or outcast races of different faith\n      and language from the Hindus.\n\n  230 The Kir\u00e1tas and H\u00e1r\u00edtas are savage aborigines of India who occupy\n      hills and jungles and are altogether different in race and character\n      from the Hindus. Dr. Muir remarks in his Sanskrit Texts, Vol. I. p.\n      488 (second edition) that it does not appear that it is the object\n      of this legend to represent this miraculous creation as the origin\n      of these tribes, and that nothing more may have been intended than\n      that the cow called into existence large armies, of the same stock\n      with particular tribes previously existing.\n\n  231 The Great God, \u015aiva.\n\n  232 Nandi, the snow-white bull, the attendant and favourite vehicle of\n      \u015aiva.\n\n  233 \u201cThe names of many of these weapons which are mythical and partly\n      allegorical have occurred in Canto XXIX. The general signification\n      of the story is clear enough. It is a contest for supremacy between\n      the regal or military order and Br\u00e1hmanical or priestly authority,\n      like one of those struggles which our own Europe saw in the middle\n      ages when without employing warlike weapons the priesthood\n      frequently gained the victory.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n      For a full account of the early contests between the Br\u00e1hmans and\n      the Kshattriyas, see Muir\u2019s Original Sanskrit Texts (Second edition)\n      Vol. I. Ch. IV.\n\n  234 \u201cTri\u015banku, king of Ayodhy\u00e1, was seventh in descent from Ikshv\u00e1ku,\n      and Da\u015baratha holds the thirty-fourth place in the same genealogy.\n      See Canto LXX. We are thrown back, therefore, to very ancient times,\n      and it occasions some surprise to find Va\u015bish\u1e6dha and Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra,\n      actors in these occurences, still alive in Rama\u2019s time.\u201d\n\n  235 \u201cIt does not appear how Tri\u015banku, in asking the aid of Va\u015bish\u1e6dha\u2019s\n      sons after applying in vain to their father, could be charged with\n      resorting to another _\u015b\u00e1kh\u00e1_ (School) in the ordinary sense of that\n      word; as it is not conceivable that the sons should have been of\n      another \u015a\u00e1kh\u00e1 from the father, whose cause they espouse with so much\n      warmth. The commentator in the Bombay edition explains the word\n      _\u015a\u00e1khantaram_ as Y\u00e1jan\u00e1din\u00e1 raksh\u00e1ntaram, \u2018one who by sacrificing\n      for thee, etc., will be another protector.\u2019 Gorresio\u2019s Gau\u1e0da text,\n      which may often be used as a commentary on the older one, has the\n      following paraphrase of the words in question, ch. 60, 3. M\u00falam\n      uts\u1e5bijya kasm\u00e1t tvam s\u00e1kh\u00e1sv ichhasi lambitum. \u2018Why, forsaking the\n      root, dost thou desire to hang upon the branches?\u2019 \u201d MUIR, Sanskrit\n      Texts, Vol. I., p. 401.\n\n  236 A Cha\u1e47\u1e0d\u00e1la was a man born of the illegal and impure union of a \u015a\u00fadra\n      with a woman of one of the three higher castes.\n\n  237 \u201cThe Cha\u1e47\u1e0d\u00e1la was regarded as the vilest and most abject of the men\n      sprung from wedlock forbidden by the law (M\u00e1navadharma\u015b\u00e1stra, Lib.\n      X. 12.); a kind of social malediction weighed upon his head and\n      rejected him from human society.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  238 This appellation, occuring nowhere else in the poem except as the\n      name of a city, appears twice in this Canto as a name of Va\u015bish\u1e6dha.\n\n  239 \u201cThe seven ancient rishis or saints, as has been said before, were\n      the seven stars of Ursa Major. The seven other new saints which are\n      here said to have been created by Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra should be seven new\n      southern stars, a sort of new Ursa. Von Schlegel thinks that this\n      mythical fiction of new stars created by Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra may signify that\n      these southern stars, unknown to the Indians as long as they\n      remained in the neighbourhood of the Ganges, became known to them at\n      a later date when they colonized the southern regions of India.\u201d\n      GORRESIO.\n\n  240 \u201cThis cannot refer to the events just related: for Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra was\n      successful in the sacrifice performed for Tri\u015banku. And yet no other\n      impediment is mentioned. Still his restless mind would not allow him\n      to remain longer in the same spot. So the character of Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra is\n      ingeniously and skilfully shadowed forth: as he had been formerly a\n      most warlike king, loving battle and glory, bold, active, sometimes\n      unjust, and more frequently magnanimous, such also he always shows\n      himself in his character of anchorite and ascetic.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n  241 Near the modern city of Ajmere. The place is sacred still, and the\n      name is preserved in the Hind\u00ed. Lassen, however, says that this\n      Pushkala or Pushkara, called by the Grecian writers \u03a0\u03b5\u03c5\u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03af\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2, the\n      earliest place of pilgrimage mentioned by name, is not to be\n      confounded with the modern Pushkara in Ajmere.\n\n  242 \u201cAmbar\u00edsha is the twenty-ninth in descent from Ikshv\u00e1ku, and is\n      therefore separated by an immense space of time from Tri\u015banku in\n      whose story Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra had played so important a part. Yet Rich\u00edka,\n      who is represented as having young sons while Ambar\u00edsha was yet\n      reigning being himself the son of Bhrigu and to be numbered with the\n      most ancient sages, is said to have married the younger sister of\n      Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra. But I need not again remark that there is a perpetual\n      anachronism in Indian mythology.\u201d SCHLEGEL..\n\n      \u201cIn the mythical story related in this and the following Canto we\n      may discover, I think, some indication of the epoch at which the\n      immolation of lower animals was substituted for human sacrifice.\u2026 So\n      when Iphigenia was about to be sacrificed at Aulis, one legend tells\n      us that a hind was substituted for the virgin.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n      So the ram caught in the thicket took the place of Isaac, or, as the\n      Musalm\u00e1ns say, of Ishmael.\n\n  243 The Indian Cupid.\n\n  244 \u201cThe same as she whose praises Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra has already sung in Canto\n      XXXV, and whom the poet brings yet alive upon the scene in Canto\n      LXI. Her proper name was _Satyavat\u00ed_ (Truthful); the patronymic,\n      Kau\u015bik\u00ed was preserved by the river into which she is said to have\n      been changed, and is still recognized in the corrupted forms Ku\u015ba\n      and Ku\u015b\u00ed. The river flows from the heights of the Him\u00e1laya towards\n      the Ganges, bounding on the east the country of Videha (Behar). The\n      name is no doubt half hidden in the _Cosoagus_ of Pliny and the\n      _Kossounos_ of Arrian. But each author has fallen into the same\n      error in his enumeration of these rivers (Condochatem, Erannoboam,\n      Cosoagum, Sonum). The Erannoboas, (Hira\u1e47yav\u00e1ha) and the Sone are not\n      different streams, but well-known names of the same river. Moreover\n      the order is disturbed, in which on the right and left they fall\n      into the Ganges. To be consistent with geography it should be\n      written: Erannoboam sive Sonum, Condochatem (Gandak\u00ed), Cosoagum.\u201d\n      SCHLEGEL.\n\n  245 \u201cDaksha was one of the ancient Progenitors or Praj\u00e1patis created by\n      Brahm\u00e1. The sacrifice which is here spoken of and in which \u015aankar or\n      \u015aiva (called also here Rudra and Bhava) smote the Gods because he\n      had not been invited to share the sacred oblations with them, seems\n      to refer to the origin of the worship of \u015aiva, to its increase and\n      to the struggle it maintained with other older forms of worship.\u201d\n      GORRESIO.\n\n  246 S\u00edt\u00e1 means a furrow.\n\n            \u201cGreat Erectheus swayed,\n      That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid,\n      But from the teeming furrow took his birth,\n      The mighty offspring of the foodful earth.\u201d\n\n      Iliad, Book II.\n\n  247 \u201cThe whole story of S\u00edt\u00e1, as will be seen in the course of the poem\n      has a great analogy with the ancient myth of Proserpine.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  248 A different lady from the Goddess of the Jumna who bears the same\n      name.\n\n  249 This is another fanciful derivation, _Sa_\u2014with, and _gara_\u2014poison.\n\n_  250 Purush\u00e1dak_ means a cannibal. First called _Kalm\u00e1shap\u00e1da_ on\n      account of his spotted feet he is said to have been turned into a\n      cannibal for killing the son of Va\u015bish\u1e6dha.\n\n  251 \u201cIn the setting forth of these royal genealogies the Bengal\n      recension varies but slightly from the Northern. The first six names\n      of the genealogy of the Kings of Ayodhy\u00e1 are partly theogonical and\n      partly cosmogonical; the other names are no doubt in accordance with\n      tradition and deserve the same amount of credence as the ancient\n      traditional genealogies of other nations.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  252 The tenth of the lunar asterisms, composed of five stars.\n\n  253 There are two lunar asterisms of this name, one following the other\n      immediately, forming the eleventh and twelfth of the lunar mansions.\n\n  254 This is another R\u00e1ma, son of Jamadagni, called Para\u015bur\u00e1ma, or R\u00e1ma\n      with the axe, from the weapon which he carried. He was while he\n      lived the terror of the Warrior caste, and his name recalls long and\n      fierce struggles between the sacerdotal and military order in which\n      the latter suffered severely at the hands of their implacable enemy.\n\n  255 \u201cThe author of the _Raghuva\u1e45\u015ba_ places the mountain Mahendra in the\n      territory of the king of the Kalingans, whose palace commanded a\n      view of the ocean. It is well known that the country along the coast\n      to the south of the mouths of the Ganges was the seat of this\n      people. Hence it may be suspected that this Mahendra is what Pliny\n      calls \u2018promontorium Calingon.\u2019 The modern name, _Cape Palmyras_,\n      from the palmyras Borassus flabelliformis, which abound there agrees\n      remarkably with the description of the poet who speaks of the groves\n      of these trees. _Raghuva\u1e45\u015ba_, VI. 51.\u201d SCHLEGEL.\n\n  256 \u015aiva.\n\n  257 Siva. God of the Azure Neck.\n\n  258 \u015aatrughna means slayer of foes, and the word is repeated as an\n      intensive epithet.\n\n  259 Alluding to the images of Vish\u1e47u, which have four arms, the four\n      princes being portions of the substance of that God.\n\n  260 Chief of the insignia of imperial dignity.\n\n  261 Whisks, usually made of the long tails of the Yak.\n\n  262 Chitraratha, King of the Gandharvas.\n\n  263 The Chandrak\u00e1nta or Moonstone, a sort of crystal supposed to be\n      composed of congealed moonbeams.\n\n  264 A customary mark of respect to a superior.\n\n  265 R\u00e1hu, the ascending node, is in mythology a demon with the tail of a\n      dragon whose head was severed from his body by Vish\u1e47u, but being\n      immortal, the head and tail retained their separate existence and\n      being transferred to the stellar sphere became the authors of\n      eclipses; the first especially by endeavouring to swallow the sun\n      and moon.\n\n  266 In eclipse.\n\n  267 The seventh of the lunar asterisms.\n\n  268 Kau\u015baly\u00e1 and Sumitr\u00e1.\n\n  269 A king of the Lunar race, and father of Yay\u00e1ti.\n\n  270 Literally _the chamber of wrath,_ a \u201c_growlery_,\u201d a small, dark,\n      unfurnished room to which it seems, the wives and ladies of the king\n      betook themselves when offended and sulky.\n\n  271 In these four lines I do not translate faithfully, and I do not\n      venture to follow Kaikey\u00ed farther in her eulogy of the hump-back\u2019s\n      charms.\n\n  272 These verses are evidently an interpolation. They contain nothing\n      that has not been already related: the words only are altered. As\n      the whole poem could not be recited at once, the rhapsodists at the\n      beginning of a fresh recitation would naturally remind their hearers\n      of the events immediately preceding.\n\n  273 The _\u015bloka_ or distich which I have been forced to expand into these\n      nine lines is evidently spurious, but is found in all the commented\n      MSS. which Schlegel consulted.\n\n  274 Manmatha, Mind-disturber, a name of K\u00e1ma or Love.\n\n  275 This story is told in the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat. A free version of it may be\n      found in _Scenes from the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan, etc._\n\n  276 Only the highest merit obtains a home in heaven for ever. Minor\n      degrees of merit procure only leases of heavenly mansions terminable\n      after periods proportioned to the fund which buys them. King Yay\u00e1ti\n      went to heaven and when his term expired was unceremoniously\n      ejected, and thrown down to earth.\n\n  277 See _Additional Notes_, THE SUPPLIANT DOVE.\n\n  278 Indra, called also Purandara, Town-destroyer.\n\n  279 Indra\u2019s charioteer.\n\n  280 The elephant of Indra.\n\n  281 A star in the spike of Virgo: hence the name of the mouth Chaitra or\n      Chait.\n\n  282 The Rain-God.\n\n  283 In a former life.\n\n  284 One of the lunar asterisms, represented as the favourite wife of the\n      Moon. See p. 4, note.\n\n  285 The Sea.\n\n  286 The Moon.\n\n  287 The comparison may to a European reader seem a homely one. But\n      Spenser likens an infuriate woman to a cow \u201cThat is berobbed of her\n      youngling dere.\u201d Shakspeare also makes King Henry VI compare himself\n      to the calf\u2019s mother that \u201cRuns lowing up and down, Looking the way\n      her harmless young one went.\u201d \u201cCows,\u201d says De Quincey, \u201care amongst\n      the gentlest of breathing creatures; none show more passionate\n      tenderness to their young, when deprived of them, and, in short, I\n      am not ashamed to profess a deep love for these gentle creatures.\u201d\n\n  288 The commentators say that, in a former creation, Ocean grieved his\n      mother and suffered in consequence the pains of hell.\n\n  289 As described in Book I Canto XL.\n\n  290 Paras\u00far\u00e1ma.\n\n  291 The Sanskrit word _hasta_ signifies both _hand_, and the trunk of\n      \u201cThe beast that bears between his eyes a serpent for a head.\u201d\n\n  292 See P. 41.\n\n  293 The first progeny of Brahm\u00e1 or Brahm\u00e1 himself.\n\n  294 These are three names of the Sun.\n\n  295 See P. 1.\n\n  296 The saints who form the constellation of Ursa Major.\n\n  297 The regent of the planet Venus.\n\n  298 Kuvera.\n\n_  299 Bali_, or the presentation of food to all created beings, is one of\n      the five great sacraments of the Hindu religion: it consists in\n      throwing a small parcel of the offering, _Ghee_, or rice, or the\n      like, into the open air at the back of the house.\n\n  300 In mythology, a demon slain by Indra.\n\n  301 Called also Garu\u1e0d, the King of the birds, offspring of Vinat\u00e1. See\n      p. 53.\n\n  302 See P. 56.\n\n  303 See P. 43.\n\n  304 The story of S\u00e1vitr\u00ed, told in the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat, has been admirably\n      translated by R\u00fcckert, and elegantly epitomized by Mrs. Manning in\n      _India, Ancient and Medi\u00e6val_. There is a free rendering of the\n      story in _Idylls from the Sanskrit_.\n\n  305 Fire for sacrificial purposes is produced by the attrition of two\n      pieces of wood.\n\n  306 Kaikey\u00ed.\n\n  307 The chapel where the sacred fire used in worship is kept.\n\n  308 The students and teachers of the Taittir\u00edya portion of the Yajur\n      Veda.\n\n  309 Two of the divine personages called _Praj\u00e1patis_ and _Brahm\u00e1dikas_\n      who were first created by Brahm\u00e1.\n\n  310 It was the custom of the kings of the solar dynasty to resign in\n      their extreme old age the kingdom to the heir, and spend the\n      remainder of their days in holy meditation in the forest:\n\n      \u201cFor such through ages in their life\u2019s decline\n      Is the good custom of Ikshv\u00e1ku\u2019s line.\u201d\n\n      _Raghura\u1e45\u015ba._\n\n  311 See Book I, Canto XXXIX. An Indian prince in more modern times\n      appears to have diverted himself in a similar way.\n\n      It is still reported in Belgaum that Appay Deasy was wont to amuse\n      himself \u201cby making several young and beautiful women stand side by\n      side on a narrow balcony, without a parapet, overhanging the deep\n      reservoir at the new palace in Nipani. He used then to pass along\n      the line of trembling creatures, and suddenly thrusting one of them\n      headlong into the water below, he used to watch her drowning, and\n      derive pleasure from her dying agonies.\u201d\u2014History of the Belgaum\n      District. By H. J. Stokes, M. S. C.\n\n  312 Chitraratha, King of the celestial choristers.\n\n  313 It is said that the bamboo dies after flowering.\n\n  314 \u201cThirty centuries have passed since he began this memorable journey.\n      Every step of it is known and is annually traversed by thousands:\n      hero worship is not extinct. What can Faith do! How strong are the\n      ties of religion when entwined with the legends of a country! How\n      many a cart creeps creaking and weary along the road from Ayodhy\u00e1 to\n      Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6d. It is this that gives the R\u00e1m\u00e1yan a strange interest, the\n      story still lives.\u201d _Calcutta Review: Vol. XXIII._\n\n  315 See p. 72.\n\n  316 Four stars of the sixteenth lunar asterism.\n\n  317 In the marriage service.\n\n  318 The husks and chaff of the rice offered to the Gods.\n\n  319 An important sacrifice at which seventeen victims were immolated.\n\n  320 The great pilgrimage to the Him\u00e1layas, in order to die there.\n\n  321 Known to Europeans as the Goomtee.\n\n  322 A tree, commonly called _Ingua_.\n\n  323 Sacrificial posts to which the victims were tied.\n\n  324 Daughter of Jahnu, a name of the Ganges. See p. 55.\n\n  325 The _Main\u00e1_ or Gracula religiosa, a favourite cage-bird, easily\n      taught to talk.\n\n  326 The Jumna.\n\n  327 The Hindu name of Allahabad.\n\n  328 The Lang\u00far is a large monkey.\n\n  329 A mountain said to lie to the east of Meru.\n\n  330 Another name of the Jumna, daughter of the Sun.\n\n  331 \u201cWe have often looked on that green hill: it is the holiest spot of\n      that sect of the Hindu faith who devote themselves to this\n      incarnation of Vish\u1e47u. The whole neighbourhood is R\u00e1ma\u2019s country.\n      Every headland has some legend, every cavern is connected with his\n      name; some of the wild fruits are still called _S\u00edt\u00e1phal_, being the\n      reputed food of the exile. Thousands and thousands annually visit\n      the spot, and round the hill is a raised foot-path, on which the\n      devotee, with naked feet, treads full of pious awe.\u201d _Calcutta\n      Review_, Vol. XXIII.\n\n  332 Deities of a particular class in which five or ten are enumerated.\n      They are worshipped particularly at the funeral obsequies in honour\n      of deceased progenitors.\n\n  333 \u201cSo in Homer the horses of Achilles lamented with many bitter tears\n      the death of Patroclus slain by Hector:\u201d\n\n      \u201c\u1f3d\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9 \u03b4\u2019 \u0391\u1f30\u03b1\u03ba\u03af\u03b4\u03b1\u03bf, \u03bc\u03ac\u03c7\u03b7\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f10\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2,\n      \u039a\u03bb\u1fb6\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd, \u1f10\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03b4\u1f74 \u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03c5\u03b8\u03ad\u03c3\u03b8\u03b7\u03bd \u1f21\u03bd\u03b9\u03cc\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\n      \u1f18\u03bd \u03ba\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03bd\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f51\u03c6\u2019 \u1f1d\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c6\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u201d\n\n      ILIAD. XVII. 426.\n\n      \u201cAncient poesy frequently associated nature with the joys and\n      sorrows of man.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  334 The lines containing this heap of forced metaphors are marked as\n      spurious by Schlegel.\n\n  335 The southern region is the abode of Yama the Indian Pluto, and of\n      departed spirits.\n\n  336 The five elements of which the body consists, and to which it\n      returns.\n\n  337 So dying York cries over the body of Suffolk:\n\n          \u201cTarry, dear cousin Suffolk!\n      My soul shall thine keep company to heaven:\n      Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast.\u201d\n\n      _King Henry V, Act IV, 6._\n\n  338 Kau\u015baly\u00e1, daughter of the king of another Ko\u015bal.\n\n  339 R\u00e1jagriha, or Girivraja was the capital of A\u015bvapati, Bharat\u2019s\n      maternal grandfather.\n\n  340 The Kekayas or Kaikayas in the Punjab appear amongst the chief\n      nations in the war of the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata; their king being a kinsman of\n      Krish\u1e47a.\n\n  341 H\u00e1stinapura was the capital of the kingdom of Kuru, near the modern\n      Delhi.\n\n  342 The Panch\u00e1las occupied the upper part of the Doab.\n\n  343 \u201cKuruj\u00e1ngala and its inhabitants are frequently mentioned in the\n      _Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata_, as in the _\u00c1di-parv._ 3789, 4337, _et al._\u201d WILSON\u2019S\n      _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a,_ Vol. II. p. 176. DR. HALL\u2019S Note.\n\n  344 \u201cThe \u1f49\u03be\u03cd\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 of Arrian. See _As. Res._ Vol. XV. p. 420, 421, also\n      _Indische Alterthumskunde_, Vol. I. p. 602, first footnote.\u201d\n      WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. I. p. 421. DR. HALL\u2019S Edition. The\n      Ikshumat\u00ed was a river in Kurukshetra.\n\n  345 \u201cThe B\u00e1h\u00edkas are described in the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata, Kar\u1e47a Parvan, with\n      some detail, and comprehend the different nations of the Punjab from\n      the Sutlej to the Indus.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. I. p. 167.\n\n  346 The Beas, Hyphasis, or Bibasis.\n\n  347 It would be lost labour to attempt to verify all the towns and\n      streams mentioned in Cantos LXVIII and LXXII. Professor Wilson\n      observes (_Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, p. 139. Dr. Hall\u2019s Edition) \u201cStates, and\n      tribes, and cities have disappeared, even from recollection; and\n      some of the natural features of the country, especially the rivers,\n      have undergone a total alteration.\u2026 Notwithstanding these\n      impediments, however, we should be able to identify at least\n      mountains and rivers, to a much greater extent than is now\n      practicable, if our maps were not so miserably defective in their\n      nomenclature. None of our surveyors or geographers have been\n      oriental scholars. It may be doubted if any of them have been\n      conversant with the spoken language of the country. They have,\n      consequently, put down names at random, according to their own\n      inaccurate appreciation of sounds carelessly, vulgarly, and\n      corruptly uttered; and their maps of India are crowded with\n      appellations which bear no similitude whatever either to past or\n      present denominations. We need not wonder that we cannot discover\n      Sanskrit names in English maps, when, in the immediate vicinity of\n      Calcutta, Barnagore represents Bar\u00e1hanagar, Dakshine\u015bwar is\n      metamorphosed into Duckinsore, Ulubar\u00eda into Willoughbury.\u2026 There is\n      scarcely a name in our Indian maps that does not afford proof of\n      extreme indifference to accuracy in nomenclature, and of an\n      incorrectness in estimating sounds, which is, in some degree,\n      perhaps, a national defect.\u201d\n\n      For further information regarding the road from Ayodhy\u00e1 to\n      R\u00e1jagriha, see _Additional Notes_.\n\n  348 \u201cThe \u015aatadr\u00fa, \u2018the hundred-channeled\u2019\u2014the Zaradrus of Ptolemy,\n      Hesydrus of Pliny\u2014is the Sutlej.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. II.\n      p. 130.\n\n  349 The Sarasvat\u00ed or Sursooty is a tributary of the Caggar or Guggur in\n      Sirhind.\n\n_  350 S\u00faryamcha pratimehatu_, adversus solem mingat. An offence expressly\n      forbidden by the Laws of Manu.\n\n  351 Bharat does not intend these curses for any particular person: he\n      merely wishes to prove his own innocence by invoking them on his own\n      head if he had any share in banishing R\u00e1ma.\n\n  352 The S\u00e1ma-veda, the hymns of which are chanted aloud.\n\n  353 Walking from right to left.\n\n  354 Birth and death, pleasure and pain, loss and gain.\n\n  355 Erected upon a tree or high staff in honour of Indra.\n\n  356 I follow in this stanza the Bombay edition in preference to\n      Schlegel\u2019s which gives the tears of joy to the courtiers.\n\n  357 The commentator says \u201c\u015aatrughna accompanied by the other sons of the\n      king.\u201d\n\n  358 Not Bharat\u2019s uncle, but some councillor.\n\n_  359 \u015aatakratu_, Lord of a hundred sacrifices, the performance of a\n      hundred _A\u015bvamedhas_ or sacrifices of a horse entitling the\n      sacrificer to this exalted dignity.\n\n  360 The modern Malabar.\n\n  361 Now Sungroor, in the Allahabad district.\n\n  362 R\u00e1ma, Lakshma\u1e47, and Sumantra.\n\n  363 The _svastika_, a little cross with a transverse line at each\n      extremity.\n\n  364 When an army marched it was customary to burn the huts in which it\n      had spent the night.\n\n  365 Y\u00e1ma, Varu\u1e47a, and Kuvera.\n\n  366 \u201cA happy land in the remote north where the inhabitants enjoy a\n      natural pefection attended with complete happiness obtained without\n      exertion. There is there no vicissitude, nor decrepitude, nor death,\n      nor fear: no distinction of virtue and vice, none of the\n      inequalities denoted by the words best, worst, and intermediate, nor\n      any change resulting from the succession of the four Yugas.\u201d See\n      MUIR\u2019S _Sanskrit Texts_, Vol. I. p. 492.\n\n  367 The Moon.\n\n  368 The poet does not tell us what these lakes contained.\n\n  369 These ten lines are a substitution for, and not a translation of the\n      text which Carey and Marshman thus render: \u201cThis mountain adorned\n      with mango, jumboo, usuna, lodhra, piala, punusa, dhava, unkotha,\n      bhuvya, tinisha, vilwa, tindooka, bamboo, kashmaree, urista, uruna,\n      madhooka, tilaka, vuduree, amluka, nipa, vetra, dhunwuna, veejaka,\n      and other trees affording flowers, and fruits, and the most\n      delightful shade, how charming does it appear!\u201d\n\n_  370 Vidyadharis_, Spirits of Air, sylphs.\n\n  371 A lake attached either to Amar\u00e1vat\u00ed the residence of Indra, or Alak\u00e1\n      that of Kuvera.\n\n  372 The Ganges of heaven.\n\n  373 Nalin\u00ed, as here, may be the name of any lake covered with lotuses.\n\n  374 This canto is allowed, by Indian commentators, to be an\n      interpolation. It cannot be the work of V\u00e1lm\u00edki.\n\n  375 A fine bird with a strong, sweet note, and great imitative powers.\n\n  376 Bauhinea variegata, a species of ebony.\n\n  377 The rainbow is called the bow of Indra.\n\n  378 Bhogavat\u00ed, the abode of the N\u00e1gas or Serpent race.\n\n  379 \u201cThe order of the procession on these occasions is that the children\n      precede according to age, then the women and after that the men\n      according to age, the youngest first and the eldest last: when they\n      descend into the water this is reversed and resumed when they come\n      out of it.\u201d CAREY AND MARSHMAN.\n\n  380 V\u1e5bihaspati, the preceptor of the Gods.\n\n  381 Garu\u1e0d, the king of birds.\n\n  382 To be won by virtue.\n\n  383 The four religious orders, referable to different times of life are,\n      that of the student, that of the householder, that of the anchorite,\n      and that of the mendicant.\n\n  384 To Gods, men, and Manes.\n\n  385 Gay\u00e1 is a very holy city in Behar. Every good Hindu ought once in\n      his life to make funeral offerings in Gay\u00e1 in honour of his\n      ancestors.\n\n_  386 Put_ is the name of that region of hell to which men are doomed who\n      leave no son to perform the funeral rites which are necessary to\n      assure the happiness of the departed. _Putra_, the common word for a\n      son is said by the highest authority to be derived from _Put_ and\n      _tra_ deliverer.\n\n  387 It was the custom of Indian women when mourning for their absent\n      husbands to bind their hair in a long single braid.\n\n      Carey and Marshman translate, \u201cthe one-tailed city.\u201d\n\n  388 The verses in a different metre with which some cantos end are all\n      to be regarded with suspicion. Schlegel regrets that he did not\n      exclude them all from his edition. These lines are manifestly\n      spurious. See _Additional Notes_.\n\n  389 This genealogy is a repetition with slight variation of that given\n      in Book I, Canto LXX.\n\n  390 In Gorresio\u2019s recension identified with Vish\u1e47u. See Muir\u2019s _Sanskrit\n      Texts, Vol. IV. pp 29, 30_.\n\n  391 From _sa_ with, and _gara_ poison.\n\n  392 See Book I. Canto XL.\n\n  393 A practice which has frequently been described, under the name of\n      _dherna_, by European travellers in India.\n\n  394 Compare Milton\u2019s \u201c_beseeching or beseiging_.\u201d\n\n  395 Ten-headed, ten-necked, ten faced, are common epithets of R\u00e1va\u1e47 the\n      giant king of Lank\u00e1.\n\n  396 The spouse of Rohi\u1e47\u00ed is the Moon: R\u00e1hu is the demon who causes\n      eclipses.\n\n  397 \u201cOnce,\u201d says the Commentator T\u00edrtha, \u201cin the battle between the Gods\n      and demons the Gods were vanquished, and the sun was overthrown by\n      R\u00e1hu. At the request of the Gods Atri undertook the management of\n      the sun for a week.\u201d\n\n  398 Now Nundgaon, in Oudh.\n\n  399 A part of the great Da\u1e47\u1e0dak forest.\n\n  400 When the saint M\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0davya had doomed some saint\u2019s wife, who was\n      Anas\u00fay\u00e1\u2019s friend, to become a widow on the morrow.\n\n  401 Heavenly nymphs.\n\n  402 The _ball_ or present of food to all created beings.\n\n  403 The clarified butter &c. cast into the sacred fire.\n\n  404 The Moon-God: \u201che is,\u201d says the commentator, \u201cthe special deity of\n      Br\u00e1hmans.\u201d\n\n  405 \u201cBecause he was an incarnation of the deity,\u201d says the commentator,\n      \u201cotherwise such honour paid by men of the sacerdotal caste to one of\n      the military would be improper.\u201d\n\n  406 The king of birds.\n\n_  407 K\u00e1l\u00e1ntakayamopamam_, resembling Y\u00e1ma the destroyer.\n\n  408 Somewhat inconsistently with this part of the story Tumburu is\n      mentioned in Book II, Canto XII as one of the Gandharvas or heavenly\n      minstrels summoned to perform at Bharadv\u00e1ja\u2019s feast.\n\n  409 Rambh\u00e1 appears in Book I Canto LXIV as the temptress of Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra.\n\n  410 The conclusion of this Canto is all a vain repetition: it is\n      manifestly spurious and a very feeble imitation of V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s style.\n      See _Additional Notes_.\n\n  411 \u201cEven when he had alighted,\u201d says the commentator: The feet of Gods\n      do not touch the ground.\n\n  412 A name of Indra.\n\n  413 \u015aach\u00ed is the consort of Indra.\n\n  414 The spheres or mansions gained by those who have duly performed the\n      sacrifices required of them. Different situations are assigned to\n      these spheres, some placing them near the sun, others near the moon.\n\n  415 Hermits who live upon roots which they dig out of the earth:\n      literally _diggers_, derived from the prefix _vi_ and _khan_ to dig.\n\n  416 Generally, divine personages of the height of a man\u2019s thumb,\n      produced from Brahm\u00e1\u2019s hair: here, according to the commentator\n      followed by Gorresio, hermits who when they have obtained fresh food\n      throw away what they had laid up before.\n\n  417 Sprung from the washings of Vish\u1e47uu\u2019s feet.\n\n  418 Four fires burning round them, and the sun above.\n\n  419 The tax allowed to the king by the Laws of Manu.\n\n  420 Near the celebrated R\u00e1magiri or R\u00e1ma\u2019s Hill, now R\u00e1m-\u1e6dek, near\n      Nagpore\u2014the scene of the Yaksha\u2019s exile in the _Messenger Cloud_.\n\n  421 A hundred _A\u015bvamedhas_ or sacrifices of a horse raise the sacrificer\n      to the dignity of Indra.\n\n  422 Indra.\n\n  423 Gorresio observes that Da\u015baratha was dead and that S\u00edt\u00e1 had been\n      informed of his death. In his translation he substitutes for the\n      words of the text \u201cthy relations and mine.\u201d This is quite\n      superfluous. Da\u015baratha though in heaven still took a loving interest\n      in the fortunes of his son.\n\n  424 One of the hermits who had followed R\u00e1ma.\n\n  425 The lake of the five nymphs.\n\n  426 The holy fig-tree.\n\n  427 The bread-fruit tree, Artocarpus integrifolia.\n\n  428 A fine timber tree, Shorea robusta.\n\n  429 The God of fire.\n\n  430 Kuvera, the God of riches.\n\n  431 The Sun.\n\n  432 Brahm\u00e1, the creator.\n\n  433 \u015aiva.\n\n  434 The Wind-God.\n\n  435 The God of the sea.\n\n  436 A class of demi-gods, eight in number.\n\n  437 The holiest text of the Vedas, deified.\n\n  438 V\u00e1suki.\n\n  439 Garu\u1e0d.\n\n  440 The War-God.\n\n  441 One of the Pleiades generally regarded as the model of wifely\n      excellence.\n\n  442 The Madh\u00faka, or, as it is now called, Mahuw\u00e1, is the Bassia\n      latifolia, a tree from whose blossoms a spirit is extracted.\n\n  443 \u201cI should have doubted whether Manu could have been the right\n      reading here, but that it occurs again in verse 29, where it is in\n      like manner followed in verse 31 by Anal\u00e1, so that it would\n      certainly seem that the name Manu is intended to stand for a female,\n      the daughter of Daksha. The Gau\u1e0da recension, followed by Signor\n      Gorresio (III 20, 12), adopts an entirely different reading at the\n      end of the line, viz. _Bal\u00e1m Atibal\u00e1m api_, \u2018Bal\u00e1 and Atibil\u00e1,\u2019\n      instead of Manu and Anal\u00e1. I see that Professor Roth s.v. adduces\n      the authority of the Amara Kosha and of the Commentator on P\u00e1\u1e47ini\n      for stating that the word sometimes means \u2018the wife of Manu.\u2019 In the\n      following text of the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata I. 2553. also, Manu appears to be\n      the name of a female: \u2018_Anaradyam_, _Manum_, _Va\u00f1s\u00e1m_, _Asur\u00e1m_,\n      _M\u00e1rga\u1e47apriy\u00e1m_, _An\u00fap\u00e1m_, _Subhag\u00e1m_, _Bh\u00e1s\u00edm iti_, _Pr\u00e1dh\u00e1\n      vyajayata_. Pr\u00e1dh\u00e1 (daughter of Daksha) bore Anavady\u00e1, Manu, Van\u015b\u00e1,\n      M\u00e1rga\u1e47apriy\u00e1, An\u00fap\u00e1, Subhag\u00e1. and Bh\u00e1s\u00ed.\u2019 \u201d _Muir\u2019s Sanskrit Text_,\n      Vol. I. p. 116.\n\n  444 The elephant of Indra.\n\n_  445 Gol\u00e1ng\u00falas_, described as a kind of monkey, of a black colour, and\n      having a tail like a cow.\n\n  446 Eight elephants attached to the four quarters and intermediate\n      points of the compass, to support and guard the earth.\n\n  447 Some scholars identify the centaurs with the Gandharvas.\n\n  448 The hooded serpents, says the commentator T\u00edrtha, were the offspring\n      of Suras\u00e1: all others of Kadr\u00fa.\n\n  449 The text reads Ka\u015byapa, \u201ca descendant of Ka\u015byapa,\u201d who according to\n      R\u00e1m. II. l0, 6, ought to be Vivasvat. But as it is stated in the\n      preceding part of this passage III. 14, 11 f. that Manu was one of\n      Ka\u015byapa\u2019s eight wives, we must here read Ka\u015byap. The Ganda recension\n      reads (III, 20, 30) _Manur manushy\u00e1ms cha tatha janay\u00e1m\u00e1sa R\u00e1ghana_,\n      instead of the corresponding line in the Bombay edition. _Muir\u2019s\n      Sanskrit Text, Vol I, p. 117._\n\n  450 The original verses merely name the trees. I have been obliged to\n      amplify slightly and to omit some quas versu dicere non est; _e.g._\n      the _tini\u015ba_ (Dalbergia ougeiniensis), _punn\u00e1ga_ (Rottleria\n      tinctoria), _tilaka_ (not named), _syandana_ (Dalbergia ougeiniensis\n      again), _vandana_ (unknown), _n\u00edpa_ (Nauclea Kadamba), _lakucha_\n      (Art\u0153arpus lacucha), _dhava_ (Grislea tomentosa), A\u015bvakarna (another\n      name for the S\u00e1l), _\u015aam\u00ed_ (Acacia Suma), _khadira_ (Mimosa catechu),\n      _kin\u015buka_ (Butea frondosa), _p\u00e1tala_ (Bignonia suaveolens).\n\n  451 Acacia Suma.\n\n  452 The south is supposed to be the residence of the departed.\n\n  453 The sun.\n\n  454 The night is divided into three watches of four hours each.\n\n  455 The chief chamberlain and attendant of \u015aiva or Rudra.\n\n  456 Um\u00e1 or P\u00e1rvati, the consort of \u015aiva.\n\n  457 A star, one of the favourites of the Moon.\n\n  458 The God of love.\n\n  459 A demon slain by Indra.\n\n  460 Chitraratha, King of the Gandharvas.\n\n  461 Titanic.\n\n  462 The S\u00e1rik\u00e1 is the Maina, a bird like a starling.\n\n  463 Mah\u00e1kap\u00e1la, Sth\u00fal\u00e1ksha, Pram\u00e1tha, Tri\u015biras.\n\n  464 Vish\u1e47u, who bears a _chakra_ or discus.\n\n  465 \u015aiva.\n\n  466 See _Additional Notes_\u2014DAKSHA\u2019S SACRIFICE.\n\n  467 Him\u00e1laya.\n\n  468 One of the mysterious weapons given to R\u00e1ma.\n\n  469 A periphrasis for the body.\n\n  470 Tri\u015bir\u00e1s.\n\n  471 The Three-headed.\n\n  472 The demon who causes eclipses.\n\n  473 \u201cThis Asura was a friend of Indra, and taking advantage of his\n      friend\u2019s confidence, he drank up Indra\u2019s strength along with a\n      draught of wine and Soma. Indra then told the A\u015bvins and Sarasvat\u00ed\n      that Namuchi had drunk up his strength. The A\u015bvins in consequence\n      gave Indra a thunderbolt in the form of a foam, with which he smote\n      off the head of Namuchi.\u201d GARRETT\u2019S _Classical Dictionary of India_.\n      See also Book I. p. 39.\n\n  474 Indra.\n\n  475 Popularly supposed to cause death.\n\n  476 Garu\u1e0d, the King of Birds, carried off the Amrit or drink of Paradise\n      from Indra\u2019s custody.\n\n  477 A demon, son of Ka\u015byap and Diti, slain by Rudra or \u015aiva when he\n      attempted to carry off the tree of Paradise.\n\n  478 Namuchi and Vritra were two demons slain by Indra. Vritra\n      personifies drought, the enemy of Indra, who imprisons the rain in\n      the cloud.\n\n  479 Another demon slain by Indra.\n\n  480 The capital of the giant king R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\n  481 Kuvera, the God of gold.\n\n  482 In the great deluge.\n\n  483 The giant M\u00e1r\u00edcha, son of T\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1. T\u00e1\u1e0dak\u00e1 was slain by R\u00e1ma. See p.\n      39.\n\n  484 Indra\u2019s elephant.\n\n  485 Bhogavat\u00ed, in P\u00e1t\u00e1la in the regions under the earth, is the capital\n      of the serpent race whose king is V\u00e1suki.\n\n  486 the grove of Indra.\n\n  487 Pulastya is considered as the ancestor of the Rakshases or giants,\n      as he is the father of Vi\u015bravas, the father of R\u00e1va\u1e47 and his\n      brethren.\n\n  488 Beings with the body of a man and the head of a horse.\n\n  489 \u00c1jas, Mar\u00edchipas, Vaikh\u00e1nasas, M\u00e1shas, and B\u00e1lakhilyas are classes\n      of supernatural beings who lead the lives of hermits.\n\n  490 \u201cThe younger brother of the giant R\u00e1va\u1e47; when he and his brother had\n      practiced austerities for a long series of years, Brahm\u00e1 appeared to\n      offer them boons: Vibhisha\u1e47a asked that he might never meditate any\n      unrighteousness.\u2026 On the death of R\u00e1va\u1e47 Vibhisha\u1e47a was installed as\n      R\u00e1ja of Lank\u00e1.\u201d GARRETT\u2019S _Classical Dictionary of India_.\n\n  491 Serpent-gods.\n\n  492 See p. 33.\n\n  493 The Sanskrit words for car and jewels begin with _ra_.\n\n  494 A race of beings of human shape but with the heads of horses, like\n      centaurs reversed.\n\n  495 The favourite wife of the Moon.\n\n  496 The planet Saturn.\n\n  497 Another favourite of the Moon; one of the lunar mansions.\n\n  498 The Rudras, agents in creation, are eight in number; they sprang\n      from the forehead of Brahm\u00e1.\n\n  499 Maruts, the attendants of Indra.\n\n  500 Radiant demi-gods.\n\n  501 The mountain which was used by the Gods as a churning stick at the\n      Churning of the Ocean.\n\n  502 The story will be found in GARRETT\u2019S _Classical Dictionary_. See\n      ADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\n  503 Mercury: to be carefully distinguished from Buddha.\n\n  504 The spirits of the good dwell in heaven until their store of\n      accumulated merit is exhausted. Then they redescend to earth in the\n      form of falling stars.\n\n  505 See The Descent of Gang\u00e1, Book I Canto XLIV.\n\n  506 See Book I Canto XXV.\n\n_  507 A\u015boka_ is compounded of _a_ not and _\u015boka_ grief.\n\n  508 See Book I Canto XXXI.\n\n  509 An Asur or demon, king of Tripura, the modern Tipperah.\n\n  510 \u015aiva.\n\n  511 See Book I, Canto LIX.\n\n  512 The preceptor of the Gods.\n\n  513 From the root _vid_, to find.\n\n  514 R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\n  515 Or Curlews\u2019 Wood.\n\n  516 Iron-faced.\n\n  517 Kabandha means a trunk.\n\n  518 A class of mythological giants. In the Epic period they were\n      probably personifications of the aborigines of India.\n\n  519 Peace, war, marching, halting, sowing dissensions, and seeking\n      protection.\n\n  520 See Book I, Canto XVI.\n\n  521 Or as the commentator T\u00edrtha says, \u015ail\u00e1pidh\u00e1n\u00e1, rock-covered, may be\n      the name of the cavern.\n\n  522 Pamp\u00e1 is said by the commentator to be the name both of a lake and a\n      brook which flows into it. The brook is said to rise in the hill\n      Rishyam\u00faka.\n\n  523 Who was acting as Regent for R\u00e1ma and leading an ascetic life while\n      he mourned for his absent brother.\n\n  524 The Indian Cuckoo.\n\n  525 The Cassia Fistula or Amalt\u00e1s is a splendid tree like a giant\n      laburnum covered with a profusion of chains and tassels of gold. Dr.\n      Roxburgh well describes it as \u201cuncommonly beautiful when in flower,\n      few trees surpassing it in the elegance of its numerous long\n      pendulous racemes of large bright-yellow flowers intermixed with the\n      young lively green foliage.\u201d It is remarkable also for its curious\n      cylindrical black seed-pods about two feet long, which are called\n      monkeys\u2019 walking-sticks.\n\n  526 \u201cThe Jonesia Asoca is a tree of considerable size, native of\n      southern India. It blossoms in February and March with large erect\n      compact clusters of flowers, varying in colour from pale-orange to\n      scarlet, almost to be mistaken, on a hasty glance, for immense\n      trusses of bloom of an Ixora. Mr. Fortune considered this tree, when\n      in full bloom, superior in beauty even to the Amherstia.\n\n      The first time I saw the Asoc in flower was on the hill where the\n      famous rock-cut temple of K\u00e1rl\u00ed is situated, and a large concourse\n      of natives had assembled for the celebration of some Hindoo\n      festival. Before proceeding to the temple the Mahratta women\n      gathered from two trees, which were flowering somewhat below, each a\n      fine truss of blossom, and inserted it in the hair at the back of\n      her head.\u2026 As they moved about in groups it is impossible to imagine\n      a more delightful effect than the rich scarlet bunches of flowers\n      presented on their fine glossy jet-black hair.\u201d FIRMINGER,\n      _Gardening for India_.\n\n  527 No other word can express the movements of peafowl under the\n      influence of pleasing excitement, especially when after the long\n      drought they hear the welcome roar of the thunder and feel that the\n      rain is near.\n\n  528 The Dewy Season is one of the six ancient seasons of the Indian\n      year, lasting from the middle of January to the middle of March.\n\n  529 R\u00e1ma appears to mean that on a former occasion a crow flying high\n      overhead was an omen that indicated his approaching separation from\n      S\u00edt\u00e1; and that now the same bird\u2019s perching on a tree near him may\n      be regarded as a happy augury that she will soon be restored to her\n      husband.\n\n  530 A tree with beautiful and fragrant blossoms.\n\n  531 A race of semi-divine musicians attached to the service of Kuvera,\n      represented as centaurs reversed with human figures and horses\u2019\n      heads.\n\n  532 Butea Frondosa. A tree that bears a profusion of brilliant red\n      flowers which appear before the leaves.\n\n  533 I omit five _\u015blokas_ which contain nothing but a list of trees for\n      which, with one or two exceptions, there are no equivalent names in\n      English. The following is Gorresio\u2019s translation of the\n      corresponding passage in the Bengal recension:\u2014\n\n      \u201cOh come risplendono in questa stagione di primavera i vitici, le\n      galedupe, le bassie, le dalbergie, i diospyri \u2026 le tile, le\n      michelie, le rottlerie, le pentaptere ed i pterospermi, i bombaci,\n      le grislee, gli abri, gli amaranti e le dalbergie; i sirii, le\n      galedupe, le barringtonie ed i palmizi, i xanthocymi, il pepebetel,\n      le verbosine e le ticaie, le nauclee le erythrine, gli asochi, e le\n      tapie fanno d\u2019ogni intorno pompa de\u2019 lor fiori.\u201d\n\n  534 A sacred stream often mentioned in the course of the poem. See Book\n      II, Canto XCV.\n\n  535 A daughter of Daksha who became one of the wives of Ka\u015byapa and\n      mother of the Daityas. She is termed the general mother of Titans\n      and malignant beings. See Book I Cantos XLV, XLVI.\n\n  536 Sugr\u00edva, the ex-king of the V\u00e1nars, foresters, or monkeys, an exile\n      from his home, wandering about the mountain Rishyam\u00faka with his four\n      faithful ex-ministers.\n\n  537 The hermitage of the Saint Matanga which his curse prevented B\u00e1li,\n      the present king of the V\u00e1nars, from entering. The story is told at\n      length in Canto XI of this Book.\n\n  538 Hanum\u00e1n, Sugr\u00edva\u2019s chief general, was the son of the God of Wind.\n      See Book I, Canto XVI.\n\n  539 A range of hills in Malabar; the Western Ghats in the Deccan.\n\n  540 V\u00e1lm\u00edki makes the second vowel in this name long or short to suit\n      the exigencies of the verse. Other Indian poets have followed his\n      example, and the same licence will be used in this translation.\n\n  541 I omit a recapitulatory and interpolated verse in a different metre,\n      which is as follows:\u2014Reverencing with the words, So be it, the\n      speech of the greatly terrified and unequalled monkey king, the\n      magnanimous Hanum\u00e1n then went where (stood) the very mighty R\u00e1ma\n      with Lakshma\u1e47.\n\n  542 The semi divine Hanum\u00e1n possesses, like the Gods and demons, the\n      power of wearing all shapes at will. He is one of the _K\u00e1mar\u00fap\u00eds_.\n\n      Like Milton\u2019s good and bad angels \u201cas they please\n        They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size\n        Assume as likes them best, condense or rare.\u201d\n\n  543 Him\u00e1laya is of course _par excellence_ the Monarch of mountains, but\n      the complimentary title is frequently given to other hills as here\n      to Malaya.\n\n  544 Twisted up in a matted coil as was the custom of ascetics.\n\n  545 The sun and moon.\n\n  546 The rainbow.\n\n  547 The Vedas are four in number, the Rich or Rig-veda, the Yajush or\n      Yajur-veda; the S\u00e1man or S\u00e1ma-veda, and the Atharvan or\n      Atharva-veda. See p. 3. Note.\n\n  548 The chest, the throat, and the head.\n\n  549 \u201cIn our own metrical romances, or wherever a poem is meant not for\n      readers but for chanters and oral reciters, these _formul\u00e6_, to meet\n      the same recurring case, exist by scores. Thus every woman in these\n      metrical romances who happens to be young, is described as \u2018so\n      bright of ble,\u2019 or complexion; always a man goes \u2018the mountenance of\n      a mile\u2019 before he overtakes or is overtaken. And so on through a\n      vast bead-roll of cases. In the same spirit Homer has his eternal\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u2019\u03b1\u03c1\u2019 \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03b4\u03c1\u03b1 \u03b9\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd, or \u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u2019\u03b1\u03c0\u03b1\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03b2\u03bf\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03c6\u03b7, &c.\n\n      To a reader of sensibility, such recurrences wear an air of\n      child-like simplicity, beautifully recalling the features of Homer\u2019s\n      primitive age. But they would have appeared faults to all\n      commonplace critics in literary ages.\u201d\n\n      DE QUINCEY. _Homer and the Homerid\u00e6_.\n\n  550 Br\u00e1hmans the sacerdotal caste. Kshatriyas the royal and military,\n      Vai\u015byas the mercantile, and \u015a\u00fadras the servile.\n\n  551 A protracted sacrifice extending over several days. See Book I, p.\n      24 Note.\n\n  552 Possessed of all the auspicious personal marks that indicate\n      capacity of universal sovereignty. See Book I. p. 2, and Note 3.\n\n  553 Kabandha. See Book III. Canto LXXIII.\n\n  554 Fire for sacred purposes is produced by the attrition of two pieces\n      of wood. In marriage and other solemn covenants fire is regarded as\n      the holy witness in whose presence the agreement is made. Spenser in\n      a description of a marriage, has borrowed from the Roman rite what\n      he calls the housling, or \u201cmatrimonial rite.\u201d\n\n      \u201cHis owne two hands the holy knots did knit\n      That none but death forever can divide.\n      His owne two hands, for such a turn most fit,\n      The housling fire did kindle and provide.\u201d\n\n      Faery Queen, Book I. XII. 37.\n\n  555 Indra.\n\n  556 B\u00e1li the king _de facto_.\n\n  557 With the Indians, as with the ancient Greeks, the throbbing of the\n      right eye in a man is an auspicious sign, the throbbing of the left\n      eye is the opposite. In a woman the significations of signs are\n      reversed.\n\n  558 The Vedas stolen by the demons Madhu and Kai\u1e6dabha.\n\n      \u201cThe text has [Sanskrit text] which signifies literally \u2018the lost\n      vedic tradition.\u2019 It seems that allusion is here made to the Vedas\n      submerged in the depth of the sea, but promptly recovered by Vish\u1e47u\n      in one of his incarnations, as the brahmanic legend relates, with\n      which the orthodoxy of the Br\u00e1hmans intended perhaps to allude to\n      the prompt restoration and uninterrupted continuity of the ancient\n      vedic tradition.\u201d\n\n      GORRESIO.\n\n  559 Like the wife of a N\u00e1ga or Serpent-God carried off by an eagle. The\n      enmity between the King of birds and the serpent is of very frequent\n      occurrence. It seems to be a modification of the strife between the\n      Vedic Indra and the Ahi, the serpent or drought-fiend; between\n      Apoll\u00f4n and the Python, Adam and the Serpent.\n\n  560 He means that he has never ventured to raise his eyes to her arms\n      and face, though he has ever been her devoted servant.\n\n  561 The wood in which Skanda or K\u00e1rtikeva was brought up:\n\n                      \u201cThe Warrior-God\n      Whose infant steps amid the thickets strayed\n      Where the reeds wave over the holy sod.\u201d\n\n      See also Book I, Canto XXIX.\n\n  562 \u201cSugr\u00edva\u2019s story paints in vivid colours the manners, customs and\n      ideas of the wild mountain tribes which inhabited Kishkindhya or the\n      southern hills of the Deccan, of the people whom the poem calls\n      monkeys, tribes altogether different in origin and civilization from\n      the Indo-Sanskrit race.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  563 A fiend slain by B\u00e1li.\n\n  564 B\u00e1li\u2019s mountain city.\n\n  565 The canopy or royal umbrella, one of the usual Indian regalia.\n\n  566 Whisks made of the hair of the Yak or Bos grunniers, also regal\n      insignia.\n\n  567 Righteous because he never transgresses his bounds, and\n\n        \u201cover his great tides\n        Fidelity presides.\u201d\n\n  568 Him\u00e1laya, the Lord of Snow, is the father of Um\u00e1 the wife of \u015aiva or\n      \u015aankar.\n\n  569 Indra\u2019s celestial elephant.\n\n  570 B\u00e1li was the son of Indra. See p. 28.\n\n  571 An Asur slain by Indra. See p. 261 Note. He is, like Vritra, a form\n      of the demon of drought destroyed by the beneficent God of the\n      firmament.\n\n  572 Another name of Indra or Mahendra.\n\n  573 The Bengal recension makes it return in the form of a swan.\n\n  574 Varu\u1e47a is one of the oldest of the Vedic Gods, corresponding in name\n      and partly in character to the \u039f\u1f50\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03cc\u03c2 of the Greeks and is often\n      regarded as the supreme deity. He upholds heaven and earth,\n      possesses extraordinary power and wisdom, sends his messengers\n      through both worlds, numbers the very winkings of men\u2019s eyes,\n      punishes transgressors whom he seizes with his deadly noose, and\n      pardons the sins of those who are penitent. In later mythology he\n      has become the God of the sea.\n\n  575 Budha, not to be confounded with the great reformer Buddha, is the\n      son of Soma or the Moon, and regent of the planet Mercury. Ang\u00e1ra is\n      the regent of Mars who is called the red or the fiery planet. The\n      encounter between Michael and Satan is similarly said to have been\n      as if\n\n      \u201cTwo planets rushing from aspect malign\n      Of fiercest opposition in midsky\n      Should combat, and their jarring spheres compound.\u201d\n\n      _Paradise Lost._ Book VI.\n\n  576 The A\u015bvins or Heavenly Twins, the Dioskuri or Castor and Pollux of\n      the Hindus, have frequently been mentioned. See p. 36, Note.\n\n  577 Called respectively G\u00e1rhapatya, \u00c1havaniya, and Dakshi\u1e47a, household,\n      sacrificial, and southern.\n\n  578 The store of merit accumulated by a holy or austere life secures\n      only a temporary seat in the mansion of bliss. When by the lapse of\n      time this store is exhausted, return to earth is unavoidable.\n\n  579 The conflagration which destroys the world at the end of a Yuga or\n      age.\n\n  580 Him\u00e1laya.\n\n  581 T\u00e1r\u00e1 means \u201cstar.\u201d The poet plays upon the name by comparing her\n      beauty to that of the Lord of stars, the Moon.\n\n  582 Supar\u1e47a, the Well-winged, is another name of Garu\u1e0da the King of\n      Birds. See p. 28, Note.\n\n  583 The God of Death.\n\n  584 The flag-staff erected in honour of the God Indra is lowered when\n      the festival is over. A\u015bv\u00edn\u00ed in astronomy is the head of Aries or\n      the first of the twenty-eight lunar mansions or asterisms.\n\n  585 Indra the father of B\u00e1li.\n\n  586 It is believed that every creature killed by R\u00e1ma obtained in\n      consequence immediate beatitude.\n\n      \u201cAnd blessed the hand that gave so dear a death.\u201d\n\n  587 \u201cYay\u00e1ti was invited to heaven by Indra, and conveyed on the way\n      thither by M\u00e1tali, Indra\u2019s charioteer. He afterwards returned to\n      earth where, by his virtuous administration he rendered all his\n      subjects exempt from passion and decay.\u201d GARRETT\u2019S C. D. OF INDIA.\n\n  588 The ascetic\u2019s dress which he wore during his exile.\n\n  589 There is much inconsistency in the passages of the poem in which the\n      V\u00e1nars are spoken of, which seems to point to two widely different\n      legends. The V\u00e1nars are generally represented as semi-divine beings\n      with preternatural powers, living in houses and eating and drinking\n      like men sometimes as here, as monkeys pure and simple, living is\n      woods and eating fruit and roots.\n\n  590 For a younger brother to marry before the elder is a gross violation\n      of Indian law and duty. The same law applied to daughters with the\n      Hebrews: \u201cIt must not be so done in our country to give the younger\n      before the first-born.\u201d GENESIS xix. 26.\n\n  591 \u201cThe hedgehog and porcupine, the lizard, the rhinoceros, the\n      tortoise, and the rabbit or hare, wise legislators declare lawful\n      food among five-toed animals.\u201d MANU, v. 18.\n\n        592 \u201cHe can not buckle his distempered cause\n      Within the belt of rule.\u201d\n\n      MACBETH.\n\n  593 The _Anku\u015b_ or iron hook with which an elephant is driven and\n      guided.\n\n  594 Hayagr\u00edva, Horse-necked, is a form of Vish\u1e47u.\n\n  595 \u201cA\u015bvatara is the name of a chief of the N\u00e1gas or serpents which\n      inhabit the regions under the earth; it is also the name of a\n      Gandharva. A\u015bvatar\u00ed ought to be the wife of one of the two, but I am\n      not sure that this conjecture is right. The commentator does not say\n      who this A\u015bvatar\u00ed is, or what tradition or myth is alluded to.\n      Vimalabodha reads A\u015bvatar\u00ed in the nominative case, and explains,\n      A\u015bvatar\u00ed is the sun, and as the sun with his rays brings back the\n      moon which has been sunk in the ocean and the infernal regions, so\n      will I bring back S\u00edt\u00e1.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  596 That is, \u201cConsider what answer you can give to your accusers when\n      they charge you with injustice in killing me.\u201d\n\n  597 Manu, Book VIII. 318. \u201cBut men who have committed offences and have\n      received from kings the punishment due to them, go pure to heaven\n      and become as clear as those who have done well.\u201d\n\n  598 M\u00e1ndh\u00e1t\u00e1 was one of the earlier descendants of Ikshv\u00e1ku. His name is\n      mentioned in R\u00e1ma\u2019s genealogy, p. 81.\n\n  599 I cannot understand how V\u00e1lm\u00edki could put such an excuse as this\n      into R\u00e1ma\u2019s mouth. R\u00e1ma with all solemn ceremony, has made a league\n      of alliance with B\u00e1li\u2019s younger brother whom he regards as a dear\n      friend and almost as an equal, and now he winds up his reasons for\n      killing B\u00e1li by coolly saying: \u201cBesides you are only a monkey, you\n      know, after all, and as such I have every right to kill you how,\n      when, and where I like.\u201d\n\n  600 A name of Garu\u1e0da the king of birds, the great enemy of the Serpents.\n\n  601 Sugr\u00edva\u2019s wife.\n\n  602 \u201cOur deeds still follow with us from afar. And what we have been\n      makes us what we are.\u201d\n\n  603 Sugr\u00edva and Angad.\n\n  604 Angad himself, being too young to govern, would be Yuvar\u00e1ja or\n      heir-apparent.\n\n  605 Sushe\u1e47a was the son of Varu\u1e47a the God of the sea.\n\n  606 A demon with the tail of a dragon, that causes eclipses by\n      endeavouring to swallow the sun and moon.\n\n  607 The Lord of Stars is the Moon.\n\n  608 Or the passage may be interpreted: \u201cBe neither too obsequious or\n      affectionate, nor wanting in due respect or love.\u201d\n\n  609 Sacrifices and all religious rites begin and end with ablution, and\n      the wife of the officiating Br\u00e1hman takes an important part in the\n      performance of the holy ceremonies.\n\n  610 Vi\u015bvar\u00fapa, a son of Twash\u1e6dri or Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1 the heavenly architect,\n      was a three-headed monster slain by Indra.\n\n  611 The V\u00e1nar chief, not to be confounded with T\u00e1r\u00e1.\n\n  612 \u015ar\u00e1va\u1e47: July-August. But the rains begin a month earlier, and what\n      follows must not be taken literally. The text has _p\u00farvo\u2019 yam\n      v\u00e1rshiko m\u00e1sah \u015ar\u00e1va\u1e47ah salil\u00e1gamdh_. The Bengal recension has the\n      same, and Gorresio translates: \u201cEquesto ilmese Sr\u00e2vana\n      (luglio-agosto) primo della stagione piovosa, in cui dilagano le\n      acque.\u201d\n\n  613 K\u00e1rtik: October-November.\n\n  614 \u201cIndras, as the nocturnal sun, hides himself, transformed, in the\n      starry heavens: the stars are his eyes. The hundred-eyed or\n      all-seeing (panopt\u00eas) Argos placed as a spy over the actions of the\n      cow beloved by Zeus, in the Hellenic equivalent of this form of\n      Indras.\u201d DE GUBERNATIS, _Zoological Mythology_, Vol. I, p. 418.\n\n  615 Baudh\u00e1yana and others.\n\n  616 Sugr\u00edva appears to have been consecrated with all the ceremonies\n      that attended the _Abhisheka_ or coronation of an Indian prince of\n      the Aryan race. Compare the preparations made for R\u00e1ma\u2019s\n      consecration, Book II, Canto III. Thus Homer frequently introduces\n      into Troy the rites of Hellenic worship.\n\n  617 Vitex Negundo.\n\n  618 M\u00e1lyavat: \u201cThe name of this mountain appears to me to be erroneous,\n      and I think that instead of M\u00e1lyavat should be read Malayavat,\n      Malaya is a group of mountains situated exactly in that southern\n      part of India where R\u00e1ma now was, while M\u00e1lyavat is placed to the\n      north east.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  619 Mantles of the skin of the black antelope were the prescribed dress\n      of ascetics and religious students.\n\n  620 The sacred cord worn as the badge of religious initiation by men of\n      the three twice-born castes.\n\n  621 The hum with which students conduct their tasks.\n\n  622 I omit here a long general description of the rainy season which is\n      not found in the Bengal recension and appears to have been\n      interpolated by a far inferior and much later hand than Valmiki\u2019s.\n      It is composed in a metre different from that of the rest of the\n      Canto, and contains figures of poetical rhetoric and common-places\n      which are the delight of more recent poets.\n\n  623 Praushthapada or Bhadra, the modern Bhadon, corresponds to half of\n      August and half of September.\n\n  624 The S\u00e1man or S\u00e1ma-veda, the third of the four Vedas, is really\n      merely a reproduction of parts of the Rig-veda, transposed and\n      scattered about piece-meal, only 78 verses in the whole being, it is\n      said, untraceable to the present recension of the Rig-veda.\n\n  625 \u00c1sh\u00e1dha is the month corresponding to parts of June and July.\n\n  626 Bharat, who was regent during R\u00e1ma\u2019s absence.\n\n  627 Or with Gorresio, following the gloss of another commentary: \u201cHas\n      completed every holy rite and accumulated stores of merit.\u201d\n\n  628 The river on which Ayodhy\u00e1 was built.\n\n  629 I omit a _\u015bloka_ or four lines on gratitude and ingratitude repeated\n      word for word from the last Canto.\n\n  630 The Indian crane; a magnificent bird easily domesticated.\n\n  631 The troops who guard the frontiers on the north, south, east and\n      west.\n\n  632 The Ch\u00e1taka, Cuculus, Melanoleucus, is supposed to drink nothing but\n      the water for the clouds.\n\n  633 The time for warlike expeditions began when the rains had ceased.\n\n  634 The rainbow.\n\n  635 Indra\u2019s associates in arms, and musicians of his heaven.\n\n  636 Maireya, a spirituous liquor from the blossoms of the Lythrum\n      fruticosum, with sugar, &c.\n\n  637 Their names are as follows: Angad, Ma\u00ednda, Dwida, Gavaya, Gav\u00e1ksha,\n      Gaja, \u015aarabha, Vidyunm\u00e1li, Samp\u00e1ti, S\u00fary\u00e1ksa, Hanum\u00e1n, V\u00edrab\u00e1hu,\n      Sub\u00e1hu, Nala, K\u00famuda, Sushe\u1e47a, T\u00e1ra, J\u00e1mbuvatu, Dadhivakra, N\u00edla,\n      Sup\u00e1tala, and Sunetra.\n\n  638 The Kalpadruma or Wishing-tree is one of the trees of Svarga or\n      Indra\u2019s Paradise: it has the power of granting all desires.\n\n  639 The meaning is that if a man promises to give a horse and then\n      breaks his word he commits a sin as great as if he had killed a\n      hundred horses.\n\n  640 The story is told in Book I, Canto LXIII, but the charmer there is\n      called Menak\u00e1.\n\n  641 Rohi\u1e47\u00ed is the name of the ninth Nakshatra or lunar asterism\n      personified as a daughter of Daksha, and the favourite wife of the\n      Moon. Aldebaran is the principal star in the constellation.\n\n  642 V\u00e1lm\u00edki and succeeding poets make the second vowel in this name long\n      or short at their pleasure.\n\n  643 Some of the mountains here mentioned are fabulous and others it is\n      impossible to identify. Sugr\u00edva means to include all the mountains\n      of India from Kail\u00e1s the residence of the God Kuvera, regarded as\n      one of the loftiest peaks of the Him\u00e1layas, to Mahendra in the\n      extreme south, from the mountain in the east where the sun is said\n      to rise to Ast\u00e1chal or the western mountain where he sets. The\n      commentators give little assistance: that Mah\u00e1\u015baila, &c. are certain\n      mountains is about all the information they give.\n\n  644 One of the celestial elephants of the Gods who protect the four\n      quarters and intermediate points of the compass.\n\n  645 V\u00e1yu or the Wind was the father of Hanum\u00e1n.\n\n  646 The path or station of Vish\u1e47u is the space between the seven Rishis\n      or Ursa Major, and Dhruva or the polar star.\n\n  647 One of the seven seas which surround the earth in concentric\n      circles.\n\n  648 The title of Mahe\u015bvar or Mighty Lord is sometimes given to Indra,\n      but more generally to \u015aiva whom it here denotes.\n\n  649 See Book I, Canto XVI.\n\n  650 The numbers are unmanageable in English verse. The poet speaks of\n      hundreds of _arbudas_; and an _arbuda_ is a hundred millions.\n\n  651 Anuhl\u00e1da or Anuhr\u00e1da is one of the four sons of the mighty\n      Hira\u1e47yaka\u015bipu, an Asur or a Daitya son of Ka\u015byapa and Diti and\n      killed by Vish\u1e47u in his incarnation of the Man-Lion _Narasinha_.\n      According to the Bh\u00e1gavata Pur\u00e1\u1e47a the Daitya or Asur Hira\u1e47yaka\u015bipu\n      and Hira\u1e47y\u00e1ksha his brother, both killed by Vish\u1e47u, were born again\n      as R\u00e1va\u1e47 and Kumbhakar\u1e47a his brother.\n\n  652 Puloma, a demon, was the father-in-law of Indra who destroyed him in\n      order to avert an imprecation. Paulom\u00ed is a patronymic denoting\n      \u015aach\u00ed the daughter of Puloma.\n\n  653 \u201cObserve the variety of colours which the poem attributes to all\n      these inhabitants of the different mountainous regions, some white,\n      others yellow, &c. Such different colours were perhaps peculiar and\n      distinctive characteristics of those various races.\u201d GORRESSIO.\n\n  654 Sushe\u1e47.\n\n  655 T\u00e1ra.\n\n  656 Kesar\u00ed was the husband of Han\u00fam\u00e1n\u2019s mother, and is here called his\n      father.\n\n  657 \u201cI here unite under one heading two animals of very diverse nature\n      and race, but which from some gross resemblances, probably helped by\n      an equivoque in the language, are closely affiliated in the Hindoo\n      myth \u2026 a reddish colour of the skin, want of symmetry and\n      ungainliness of form, strength in hugging with the fore paws or\n      arms, the faculty of climbing, shortness of tail(?), sensuality,\n      capacity of instruction in dancing and in music, are all\n      characteristics which more or less distinguish and meet in bears as\n      well as in monkeys. In the _R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47am_, the wise J\u00e1mnavant, the\n      Odysseus of the expedition of Lank\u00e1, is called now king of the bears\n      (rikshaparthivah), now great monkey (_Mah\u00e1kapih_).\u201d DE GUBERNATIS:\n      _Zoological Mythology_, Vol. II. p. 97.\n\n  658 Gandham\u00e1dana, Angad, T\u00e1ra, Indraj\u00e1nu, Rambha, Durmukha, Hanum\u00e1n,\n      Nala, Da mukha, \u015aarabha, Kumuda, Vahni.\n\n  659 Daityas and D\u00e1navas are fiends and enemies of the Gods, like the\n      Titans of Greek mythology.\n\n  660 I reduce the unwieldy numbers of the original to more modest\n      figures.\n\n  661 Saray\u00fa now Sarj\u00fa is the river on which Ayodhy\u00e1 was built.\n\n  662 Kau\u015bik\u00ed is a river which flows through Behar, commonly called Kosi.\n\n  663 Bhag\u00edrath\u2019s daughter is Gang\u00e1 or the Ganges. The legend is told at\n      length in Book I Canto XLIV. _The Descent of Gang\u00e1_.\n\n  664 A mountain not identified.\n\n  665 The Jumna. The river is personified as the twin sister of Y\u00e1ma, and\n      hence regarded as the daughter of the Sun.\n\n  666 The Sarasvat\u00ed (corruptly called Sursooty, is supposed to join the\n      Ganges and Jumna at Pray\u00e1g or Allahabad. It rises in the mountains\n      bounding the north-east part of the province of Delhi, and running\n      in a south-westerly direction becomes lost in the sands of the great\n      desert.\n\n  667 The Sindhu is the Indus, the Sanskrit _s_ becoming _h_ in Persian\n      and being in this instance dropped by the Greeks.\n\n  668 The Sone which rises in the district of Nagpore and falls into the\n      Ganges above Patna.\n\n  669 Mah\u00ed is a river rising in Malwa and falling into the gulf of Cambay\n      after a westerly course of 280 miles.\n\n  670 There is nothing to show what parts of the country the poet intended\n      to denote as silk-producing and silver-producing.\n\n  671 Yavadwipa means the island of Yava, wherever that may be.\n\n  672 \u015ai\u015bir is said to be a mountain ridge projecting from the base of\n      Meru on the south. Wilson\u2019s _Vishnu Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, ed. Hall, Vol. II. p.\n      117.\n\n  673 This appears to be some mythical stream and not the well-known \u015aone.\n      The name means red-coloured.\n\n  674 A fabulous thorny rod of the cotton tree used for torturing the\n      wicked in hell. The tree gives its name, \u015a\u00e1lmal\u00ed, to one of the\n      seven Dw\u00edpas, or great divisions of the known continent: and also to\n      a hell where the wicked are tormented with the pickles of the tree.\n\n  675 The king of the feathered creation.\n\n  676 Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1, the Mulciber of the Indian heaven.\n\n  677 \u201cThe terrific fiends named Mandehas attempt to devour the sun: for\n      Brahm\u00e1 denounced this curse upon them, that without the power to\n      perish they should die every day (and revive by night) and therefore\n      a fierce contest occurs (daily) between them and the sun.\u201d WILSON\u2019S\n      Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a. Vol. II. p. 250.\n\n  678 Said in the _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_ to be a ridge projecting from the base\n      of Meru to the north.\n\n  679 Kinnars are centaurs reversed, beings with equine head and human\n      bodies.\n\n  680 Yakshas are demi-gods attendant on Kuvera the God of wealth.\n\n  681 Aurva was one of the descendants of Bhrigu. From his wrath proceeded\n      a flame that threatened to destroy the world, had not Aurva cast it\n      into the ocean where it remained concealed, and having the face of a\n      horse. The legend is told in the _Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat_. I. 6802.\n\n  682 The word J\u00e1tar\u00fapa means gold.\n\n  683 The celebrated mythological serpent king Sesha, called also Ananta\n      or the infinite, represented as bearing the earth on one of his\n      thousand heads.\n\n  684 Jambudw\u00edpa is in the centre of the seven great _dw\u00edpas_ or\n      continents into which the world is divided, and in the centre of\n      Jambudw\u00edpa is the golden mountain Meru 84,000 yojans high, and\n      crowned by the great city of Brahm\u00e1. See WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_,\n      Vol. II. p. 110.\n\n  685 Vaikh\u00e1nases are a race of hermit saints said to have sprung from the\n      nails of Praj\u00e1pati.\n\n  686 \u201cThe wife of Kratu, Samnati, brought forth the sixty thousand\n      V\u00e1lakhilyas, pigmy sages, no bigger than a joint of the thumb,\n      chaste, pious, resplendent as the rays of the Sun.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u\n      Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_.\n\n  687 The continent in which Sudar\u015ban or Meru stands, _i.e._ Jambudw\u00edp.\n\n  688 The names of some historical peoples which occur in this Canto and\n      in the Cantos describing the south and north will be found in the\n      ADDITIONAL NOTES. They are bare lists, not susceptible of a metrical\n      version.\n\n  689 Suhotra, \u015aar\u00e1ri, \u015aaragulma, Gay\u00e1, Gav\u00e1ksha, Gavaya, Sushe\u1e47a,\n      Gandham\u00e1dana, Ulk\u00e1mukha, and Ananga.\n\n  690 The modern Nerbudda.\n\n  691 Krish\u1e47ave\u1e47\u00ed is mentioned in the _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_ as \u201cthe deep\n      Krish\u1e47ave\u1e47\u00ed\u201d but there appears to be no clue to its identification.\n\n  692 The modern Godavery.\n\n  693 The Mekhalas or Mekalas according to the Par\u00e1\u1e47as live in the Vindhya\n      hills, but here they appear among the peoples of the south.\n\n  694 Utkal is still the native name of Orissa.\n\n  695 The land of the people of the \u201cten forts.\u201d Professor Hall in a note\n      on WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. II. p. 160 says: \u201cThe oral\n      traditions of the vicinity to this day assign the name of Da\u015b\u00e1rna to\n      a region lying to the east of the District of Chundeyree.\u201d\n\n  696 Avant\u00ed is one of the ancient names of the celebrated Ujjayin or\n      Oujein in Central India.\n\n  697 Not identified.\n\n  698 Ayomukh means iron faced. The mountain is not identified.\n\n  699 The K\u00e1ver\u00ed or modern Cauvery is well known and has always borne the\n      same appellation, being the Chaberis of Ptolemy.\n\n  700 One of the seven principal mountain chains: the southern portion of\n      the Western Gh\u00e1ts.\n\n  701 Agastya is the great sage who has already frequently appeared as\n      R\u00e1ma\u2019s friend and benefactor.\n\n  702 T\u00e1mrapar\u1e47\u00ed is a river rising in Malaya.\n\n  703 The P\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0dyas are a people of the Deccan.\n\n  704 Mahendra is the chain of hills that extends from Orissa and the\n      northern Sircars to Gondw\u00e1na, part of which near Ganjam is still\n      called Mahendra Malay or hills of Mahendra.\n\n  705 Lank\u00e1, Sinhaladv\u00edpa, Sarandib, or Ceylon.\n\n  706 The Flowery Hill of course is mythical.\n\n  707 The whole of the geography south of Lank\u00e1 is of course mythical.\n      S\u00faryav\u00e1n means Sunny.\n\n  708 Vaidyut means connected with lightning.\n\n  709 Agastya is here placed far to the south of Lank\u00e1. Earlier in this\n      Canto he was said to dwell on Malaya.\n\n  710 Bhogavat\u00ed has been frequently mentioned: it is the capital of the\n      serpent Gods or demons, and usually represented as being in the\n      regions under the earth.\n\n  711 V\u00e1suki is according to some accounts the king of the N\u00e1gas or\n      serpent Gods.\n\n  712 \u015aail\u00fasha, Grami\u1e47i, Siksha, Suka, Babhru.\n\n  713 The distant south beyond the confines of the earth is the home of\n      departed spirits and the city of Y\u00e1ma the God of Death.\n\n  714 Sur\u00e1sh\u1e6dra, the \u201cgood country,\u201d is the modern Sura\n\n  715 A country north-west of Afghanistan, Ba\u00edkh.\n\n  716 The Moon-mountain here is mythical.\n\n  717 Sindhu is the Indus.\n\n  718 P\u00e1riy\u00e1tra, or as more usually written P\u00e1rip\u00e1tra, is the central or\n      western portion of the Vindhya chain which skirts the province of\n      Malwa.\n\n  719 Vajra means both diamond and thunderbolt, the two substances being\n      supposed to be identical.\n\n  720 Chakrav\u00e1n means the discus-bearer.\n\n  721 The discus is the favourite weapon of Vish\u1e47u.\n\n  722 The Indian Hephaistos or Vulcan.\n\n  723 Panchajan was a demon who lived in the sea in the form of a conch\n      shell. WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, V. 21.\n\n  724 Hayagr\u00edva, Horse-necked, is the name of a Daitya who at the\n      dissolution of the universe caused by Brahm\u00e1\u2019s sleep, seized and\n      carried off the Vedas. Vish\u1e47u slew him and recovered the sacred\n      treasures.\n\n  725 Meru stands in the centre of Jambudw\u00edpa and consequently of the\n      earth. \u201cThe sun travels round the world, keeping Meru always on his\n      right. To the spectator who fronts him, therefore, as he rises Meru\n      must be always on the north; and as the sun\u2019s rays do not penetrate\n      beyond the centre of the mountain, the regions beyond, or to the\n      north of it must be in darkness, whilst those on the south of it\n      must be in light: north and south being relative, not absolute,\n      terms, depending on the position of the spectator with regard to the\n      Sun and Meru.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. II. p. 243. Note.\n\n  726 The Vi\u015bvadevas are a class of deities to whom sacrifices should be\n      daily offered, as part of the ordinary worship of the householder.\n      According to the _V\u00e1yu Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, this is a privilege conferred on\n      them by Brahm\u00e1 and the Pitris as a reward for religious austerities\n      practised by them upon Him\u00e1laya.\n\n  727 The eight Vasus were originally personifications like other Vedic\n      deities, of natural phenomena, such as Fire, Wind, &c. Their\n      appellations are variously given by different authorities.\n\n  728 The Maruts or Storm-Gods, frequently addressed and worshipped as the\n      attendants and allies of Indra.\n\n  729 The mountain behind which the sun sets.\n\n  730 One of the oldest and mightiest of the Vedic deities; in later\n      mythology regarded as the God of the sea.\n\n  731 The knotted noose with which he seizes and punishes transgressors.\n\n  732 S\u00e1var\u1e47i is a Manu, offspring of the Sun by Chh\u00e1y\u00e1.\n\n  733 The poet has not said who the sons of Y\u00e1ma are.\n\n  734 The Lodhra or Lodh (Symplocos Racemosa) and the Devad\u00e1ru or Deodar\n      are well known trees.\n\n  735 The hills mentioned are not identifiable. Soma means the Moon. K\u00e1la,\n      black; Sudara\u015ban, fair to see; and Devasakh\u00e1 friend of the Gods.\n\n  736 The God of Wealth.\n\n  737 The nymphs of Paradise.\n\n  738 Kuvera the son of Vi\u015bravas.\n\n  739 A class of demigods who, like the Yakshas, are the attendants of\n      Kuvera, and the guardians of his treasures.\n\n  740 Situated in the eastern part of the Him\u00e1laya chain, on the north of\n      Assam. The mountain was torn asunder and the pass formed by the\n      War-God K\u00e1rtikeya and Para\u015bur\u00e1ma.\n\n  741 \u201cThe Uttara Kurus, it should be remarked, may have been a real\n      people, as they are mentioned in the Aitareya Br\u00e1hma\u1e47a, VIII. 14.\u2026\n      Wherefore the several nations who dwell in this northern quarter,\n      beyond the Himavat, the Uttara Kurus and the Uttara Madras are\n      consecrated to glorious dominion, and people term them the glorious.\n      In another passage of the same work, however, the Uttara Kurus are\n      treated as belonging to the domain of mythology.\u201d MUIR\u2019S _Sanskrit\n      Texts_. Vol. I. p. 494. See ADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\n  742 The Moon-mountain.\n\n  743 The Rudras are the same as the storm winds, more usually called\n      Maruts, and are often associated with Indra. In the later mythology\n      the Rudras are regarded as inferior manifestations of \u015aiva, and most\n      of their names are also names of \u015aiva.\n\n  744 Canto IX.\n\n  745 Udayagiri or the hill from which the sun rises.\n\n  746 Asta is the mountain behind which the sun sets.\n\n  747 Him\u00e1laya, the Hills of Snow.\n\n  748 Canto XI.\n\n  749 Hanum\u00e1n was the leader of the army of the south which was under the\n      nominal command of Angad the heir apparent.\n\n  750 The Bengal recension\u2014Gorresio\u2019s edition\u2014calls this Asur or demon the\n      son of M\u00e1r\u00edcha.\n\n  751 The skin of the black antelope was the ascetic\u2019s proper garb.\n\n  752 U\u015banas is the name of a sage mentioned in the Vedas. In the epic\n      poems he is identified with \u015aukra, the regent of the planet Venus,\n      and described as the preceptor of the Asuras or Daityas, and\n      possessor of vast knowledge.\n\n  753 Hem\u00e1 is one of the nymphs of Paradise.\n\n  754 Merus\u00e1var\u1e47i is a general name for the last four of the fourteen\n      Manus.\n\n  755 Svayamprabh\u00e1, the \u201cself-luminous,\u201d is according to DE GUBERNATIS the\n      moon: \u201cIn the _Svayamprabh\u00e1_ too, we meet with the moon as a good\n      fairy who, from the golden palace which she reserves for her friend\n      Hem\u00e1 (the golden one:) is during a month the guide, in the vast\n      cavern of Hanumant and his companions, who have lost their way in\n      the search of the dawn S\u00edt\u00e1.\u201d This is is not quite accurate: Hanum\u00e1n\n      and his companions wander for a month in the cavern without a guide,\n      and then Svayamprabh\u00e1 leads them out.\n\n  756 Purandara, the destroyer of cities; the cities being the clouds\n      which the God of the firmament bursts open with his thunderbolts, to\n      release the waters imprisoned in these fortresses of the demons of\n      drought.\n\n  757 Perceived that Angad had secured, through the love of the V\u00e1nars,\n      the reversion of Sugr\u00edva\u2019s kingdom; or, as another commentator\n      explains it, perceived that Angad had obtained a new kingdom in the\n      enchanted cave which the V\u00e1nars, through love of him, would consent\n      to occupy.\n\n  758 V\u1e5bihaspati, Lord of Speech, the Preceptor of the Gods.\n\n  759 \u015aukra is the regent of the planet Venus, and the preceptor of the\n      Daityas.\n\n  760 The name of various kinds of grass used at sacrificial ceremonies,\n      especially, of the Ku\u015ba grass, Poa cynosuroides, which was used to\n      strew the ground in preparing for a sacrifice, the officiating\n      Brahmans being purified by sitting on it.\n\n  761 Samp\u00e1ti is the eldest son of the celebrated Garu\u1e0da the king of\n      birds.\n\n  762 Vivasvat or the Sun is the father of Y\u00e1ma the God of Death.\n\n  763 Book III, Canto LI.\n\n  764 Da\u015baratha\u2019s rash oath and fatal promise to his wife Kaikey\u00ed.\n\n  765 Vritra, \u201cthe coverer, hider, obstructer (of rain)\u201d is the name of\n      the Vedic personification of an imaginary malignant influence or\n      demon of darkness and drought supposed to take possession of the\n      clouds, causing them to obstruct the clearness of the sky and keep\n      back the waters. Indra is represented as battling with this evil\n      influence, and the pent-up clouds being practically represented as\n      mountains or castles are shattered by his thunderbolt and made to\n      open their receptacles.\n\n  766 Frequent mention has been made of the three steps of Vish\u1e47u\n      typifying the rising, culmination, and setting of the sun.\n\n  767 For the _Churning of the Sea_, see Book I, Canto XLV.\n\n  768 Kuvera, the God of Wealth.\n\n  769 The architect of the gods.\n\n  770 Garu\u1e0da, son of Vinat\u00e1, the sovereign of the birds.\n\n  771 \u201cThe well winged one,\u201d Garu\u1e0da.\n\n  772 The god of the sea.\n\n  773 Mahendra is chain of mountains generally identified with part of the\n      Gh\u00e1ts of the Peninsula.\n\n  774 M\u00e1tari\u015bva is identified with V\u00e1yu, the wind.\n\n  775 Of course not equal to the whole earth, says the Commentator, but\n      equal to Janasth\u00e1n.\n\n  776 This appears to be the Indian form of the stories of Phaethon and\n      D\u00e6dalus and Icarus.\n\n  777 According to the promise, given him by Brahm\u00e1. See Book I, Canto\n      XIV.\n\n  778 In the Bengal recension the fourth Book ends here, the remaining\n      Cantos being placed in the fifth.\n\n  779 Each chief comes forward and says how far he can leap. Gaja says he\n      can leap ten yojans. Gavaksha can leap twenty. Gavaya thirty, and so\n      on up to ninety.\n\n  780 Prahl\u00e1da, the son of Hira\u1e47yaka\u015bipu, was a pious Datya remarkable for\n      his devotion to Vish\u1e47u, and was on this account persecuted by his\n      father.\n\n  781 The Bengal recension calls him Ar\u00edsh\u1e6danemi\u2019s brother. \u201cThe\n      commentator says \u2018Ar\u00edsh\u1e6danemi is Aru\u1e47a.\u2019 Aru\u1e47a the charioteer of the\n      sun is the son of Ka\u015byapa and Vinat\u00e1 and by consequence brother of\n      Garu\u1e0da, called Vainateya from Vinat\u00e1, his mother.\u201d GORRESSIO.\n\n  782 A nymph of Paradise.\n\n  783 Hanu or Han\u00fa means jaw. Hanum\u00e1n or Han\u00fam\u00e1n means properly one with a\n      large jaw.\n\n  784 Vish\u1e47u, the God of the Three Steps.\n\n  785 N\u00e1r\u00e1ya\u1e47, \u201cHe who moved upon the waters,\u201d is Vishnu. The allusion is\n      to the famous three steps of that God.\n\n  786 The Milky Way.\n\n  787 This Book is called Sundar or the Beatiful. To a European taste it\n      is the most intolerably tedious of the whole poem, abounding in\n      repetition, overloaded description, and long and useless speeches\n      which impede the action of the poem. Manifest interpolations of\n      whole Cantos also occur. I have omitted none of the action of the\n      Book, but have occasionally omitted long passages of common-place\n      description, lamentation, and long stories which have been again and\n      again repeated.\n\n  788 Brahm\u00e1 the Self-Existent.\n\n  789 Main\u00e1ka was the son of Him\u00e1laya and Men\u00e1 or Menak\u00e1.\n\n  790 Thus Milton makes the hills of heaven self-moving at command:\n\n      \u201cAt his command the uprooted hills retired\n      Each to his place, they heard his voice and went\n      Obsequious\u201d\n\n  791 The spirit of the mountain is separable from the mountain. Himalaya\n      has also been represented as standing in human form on one of his\n      own peaks.\n\n  792 S\u00e1gar or the Sea is said to have derived its name from Sagar. The\n      story is fully told in Book I, Cantos XLII, XLIII, and XLIV.\n\n  793 Kritu is the first of the four ages of the world, the golden age,\n      also called Satya.\n\n_  794 Parvata_ means a mountain and in the Vedas a cloud. Hence in later\n      mythology the mountains have taken the place of the clouds as the\n      objects of the attacks of Indra the Sun-God. The feathered king is\n      Garu\u1e0da.\n\n  795 \u201cThe children of Suras\u00e1 were a thousand mighty many-headed serpents,\n      traversing the sky.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. II. p. 73.\n\n  796 She means, says the Commentator, pursue thy journey if thou can.\n\n  797 If Milton\u2019s spirits are allowed the power of infinite self-extension\n      and compression the same must be conceded to V\u00e1lm\u00edki\u2019s supernatural\n      beings. Given the power as in Milton the result in V\u00e1lm\u00edki is\n      perfectly consistent.\n\n  798 \u201cDaksha is the son of Brahm\u00e1 and one of the Praj\u00e1patis or divine\n      progenitors. He had sixty daughters, twenty-seven of whom married to\n      Ka\u015byapa produced, according to one of the Indian cosmogonies, all\n      mundane beings. Does the epithet, Descendant of Daksha, given to\n      Suras\u00e1, mean that she is one of those daughters? I think not. This\n      epithet is perhaps an appellation common to all created beings as\n      having sprung from Daksha.\u201d GORRESSIO.\n\n  799 Sinhik\u00e1 is the mother of R\u00e1hu the dragon\u2019s head or ascending node,\n      the chief agent in eclipses.\n\n  800 According to De Gubernatis, the author of the very learned,\n      ingenious, and interesting though too fanciful _Zoological\n      Mythology_. Hanum\u00e1n here represents the sun entering into and\n      escaping from a cloud. The biblical Jonah, according to him,\n      typifies the same phenomenon. S\u00e1\u2019d\u00ed, speaking of sunset, says _Y\u00f9nas\n      andar-i-dih\u00e1n-im\u00e1hi shud_: Jonas was within the fish\u2019s mouth. See\n      ADDITIONAL NOTES.\n\n  801 The Buchanania Latifolia.\n\n  802 The Bauhinia Variegata.\n\n  803 Through the power that R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s stern mortifications had won for him\n      his trees bore flowers and fruit simultaneously.\n\n  804 Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1 is the architect of the Gods.\n\n  805 So in Paradise Lost Satan when he has stealthily entered the garden\n      of Eden assumes the form of a cormorant.\n\n  806 Priests who fought only with the weapons of religion, the sacred\n      grass used like the verbena of the Romans at sacred rites and the\n      consecrated fire to consume the offering of ghee.\n\n  807 One of the R\u00e1kshas lords.\n\n  808 The brother R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\n  809 Indra\u2019s elephant.\n\n  810 R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s palace appears to have occupied the whole extent of ground,\n      and to have contained within its outer walls the mansions of all the\n      great R\u00e1kshas chiefs. R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s own dwelling seems to have been\n      situated within the enchanted chariot Pushpak: but the description\n      is involved and confused, and it is difficult to say whether the\n      chariot was inside the palace or the palace inside the chariot.\n\n  811 Pushpak from _pushpa_ a flower. The car has been mentioned before in\n      R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s expedition to carry off S\u00edt\u00e1, Book III, Canto XXXV.\n\n  812 Lakshm\u00ed is the wife of Vish\u1e47u and the Goddess of Beauty and\n      Felicity. She rose, like Aphrodite, from the foam of the sea. For an\n      account of her birth and beauty, see Book I, Canto XLV.\n\n  813 Vi\u015bvakarm\u00e1 is the architect of the Gods, the Hephaestos or Mulciber\n      of the Indian heaven.\n\n  814 R\u00e1va\u1e47 in the resistless power which his long austerities had endowed\n      him with, had conquered his brother Kuvera the God of Gold and taken\n      from him his greatest treasure this enchanted car.\n\n  815 Like Milton\u2019s heavenly car, \u201cItself instinct with spirit.\u201d\n\n  816 Women, says V\u00e1lm\u00edki. But the Commentator says that automatic figures\n      only are meant. Women would have seen Hanum\u00e1n and given the alarm.\n\n  817 R\u00e1va\u1e47 had fought against Indra and the Gods, and his body was still\n      scarred by the wounds inflicted by the tusks of Indra\u2019s elephant and\n      by the fiery bolts of the Thunderer.\n\n  818 The Vasus are a class of eight deities, originally personifications\n      of natural phenomena.\n\n  819 The Maruts are the winds or Storm-Gods.\n\n  820 The \u00c1dityas originally seven deities of the heavenly sphere of whom\n      Varu\u1e47a is the chief. The name \u00c1ditya was afterwards given to any\n      God, specially to S\u00farya the Sun.\n\n  821 The A\u015bvins are the Heavenly Twins, the Castor and Pollux of the\n      Hindus.\n\n  822 The poet forgets that Hanum\u00e1n has reduced himself to the size of a\n      cat.\n\n  823 S\u00edt\u00e1 \u201cnot of woman born,\u201d was found by King Janak as he was turning\n      up the ground in preparation for a sacrifice. See Book II, Canto\n      CXVIII.\n\n  824 The six _Angas_ or subordinate branches of the Vedas are 1.\n      _Siksh\u00e1_, the science of proper articulation and pronunciation: 2.\n      _Chhandas_, metre: 3. _Vy\u00e1karana_, linguistic analysis or grammar:\n      4. _Nirukta_, explanation of difficult Vedic words: 5. _Jyotish\u1e6dom_,\n      Astronomy, or rather the Vedic Calendar: 6. _Kalpa_, ceremonial.\n\n  825 There appears to be some confusion of time here. It was already\n      morning when Hanum\u00e1n entered the grove, and the torches would be\n      needless.\n\n  826 R\u00e1va\u1e47 is one of those beings who can \u201cclimb them as they will,\u201d and\n      can of course assume the loveliest form to please human eyes as well\n      as the terrific shape that suits the king of the R\u00e1kshases.\n\n  827 White and lovely as the Arant or nectar recovered from the depths of\n      the Milky Sea when churned by the assembled Gods. See Book I, Canto\n      XLV.\n\n  828 R\u00e1va\u1e47 in his magic car carrying off the most beautiful women reminds\n      us of the magician in _Orlando Furioso_, possesor of the flying\n      horse.\n\n      \u201cVolando talor s\u2019alza ne le stelle,\n      E poi quasi talor la terra rade;\n      E ne porta con lui tutte le belle\n      Donne che trova per quelle contrade.\u201d\n\n  829 Indian women twisted their long hair in a single braid as a sign of\n      mourning for their absent husbands.\n\n  830 Janak, king of M\u00edthil\u00e1, was S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s father.\n\n  831 Hira\u1e47yaka\u015bipu was a king of the Daityas celebrated for his\n      blasphemous impieties. When his pious son Prahlada praised Vish\u1e47u\n      the Daitya tried to kill him, when the God appeared in the\n      incarnation of the man-lion and tore the tyrant to pieces.\n\n  832 Do unto others as thou wouldst they should do unto thee, is a\n      precept frequently occurring in the old Indian poems. This charity\n      is to embrace not human beings only, but bird and beast as well: \u201cHe\n      prayeth best who loveth best all things both great and small.\u201d\n\n  833 It was the custom of Indian warriors to mark their arrows with their\n      ciphers or names, and it seems to have been regarded as a point of\n      honour to give an enemy the satisfaction of knowing who had shot at\n      him. This passage however contains, if my memory serves me well, the\n      first mention in the poem of this practice, and as arrows have been\n      so frequently mentioned and described with almost every conceivable\n      epithet, its occurrence here seems suspicious. No mention of, or\n      allusion to writing has hitherto occurred in the poem.\n\n  834 This threat in the same words occurs in Book III, Canto LVI.\n\n  835 R\u00e1va\u1e47 carried off and kept in his palace not only earthly princesses\n      but the daughters of Gods and Gandharvas.\n\n  836 The wife of Indra.\n\n  837 These four lines have occurred before. Book III, Canto LVI.\n\n  838 Praj\u00e1patis are the ten lords of created beings first created by\n      Brahm\u00e1; somewhat like the Demiurgi of the Gnostics.\n\n  839 \u201cThis is the number of the Vedic divinities mentioned in the\n      Rig-veda. In Ash\u1e6daka I. S\u00fakta XXXIV, the Rishi Hira\u1e47yast\u00fapa invoking\n      the A\u015bvins says: \u00c1 N\u00e1saty\u00e1 tribhirek\u00e1da\u015bairiha devebniry\u00e1tam: \u2018O\n      N\u00e1satyas (A\u015bvins) come hither with the thrice eleven Gods.\u2019 And in\n      S\u00fakta XLV, the Rishi Praskanva addressing his hymn to Agni (ignis,\n      fire), thus invokes him: \u2018Lord of the red steeds, propitiated by our\n      prayers lead hither the thirty-three Gods.\u2019 This number must\n      certainly have been the actual number in the early days of the Vedic\n      religion: although it appears probable enough that the thirty-three\n      Vedic divinities could not then be found co-ordinated in so\n      systematic a way as they were arranged more recently by the authors\n      of the Upanishads. In the later ages of Bramanism the number went on\n      increasing without measure by successive mythical and religious\n      creations which peopled the Indian Olympus with abstract beings of\n      every kind. But through lasting veneration of the word of the Veda\n      the custom regained of giving the name of \u2018the thirty-three Gods\u2019 to\n      the immense phalanx of the multiplied deities.\u201d GORRESIO.\n\n  840 Serpent-Gods who dwell in the regions under the earth.\n\n  841 In the mythology of the epics the Gandharvas are the heavenly\n      singers or musicians who form the orchestra at the banquets of the\n      Gods, and they belong to the heaven of India in whose battles they\n      share.\n\n  842 The mother of R\u00e1ma.\n\n  843 The mother of Lakshma\u1e47.\n\n  844 In the south is the region of Y\u00e1ma the God of Death, the place of\n      departed spirits.\n\n  845 Kumbhakar\u1e47a was one of R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s brothers.\n\n  846 The guards are still in the grove, but they are asleep; and S\u00edt\u00e1 has\n      crept to a tree at some distance from them.\n\n  847 \u201cAs the reason assigned in these passages for not addressing S\u00edt\u00e1 in\n      Sanskrit such as a Br\u00e1hman would use is not that she would not\n      understand it, but that it would alarm her and be unsuitable to the\n      speaker, we must take them as indicating that Sanskrit, if not\n      spoken by women of the upper classes at the time when the R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a\n      was written (whenever that may have been), was at least understood\n      by them, and was commonly spoken by men of the priestly class, and\n      other educated persons. By the Sanskrit proper to an [ordinary] man,\n      alluded to in the second passage, may perhaps be understood not a\n      language in which words different from Sanskrit were used, but the\n      employment of formal and elaborate diction.\u201d MUIR\u2019S _Sanskrit\n      Texts_, Part II. p. 166.\n\n  848 Svayambhu, the Self-existent, Brahm\u00e1.\n\n  849 V\u1e5bihaspati or V\u00e1chaspati, the Lord of Speech and preceptor of the\n      Gods.\n\n  850 The Asurs were the fierce enemies of the Gods.\n\n  851 The Rudras are manifestations of \u015aiva.\n\n  852 The Maruts or Storm Gods.\n\n  853 Rohi\u1e47\u00ed is an asterism personified as the daughter of Daksha and the\n      favourite wife of the Moon. The chief star in the constellation is\n      Aldebaran.\n\n  854 Arundhat\u00ed was the wife of the great sage Va\u015bish\u1e6dha, and regarded as\n      the pattern of conjugal excellence. She was raised to the heavens as\n      one of the Pleiades.\n\n  855 The Gods do not shed tears; nor do they touch the ground when they\n      walk or stand. Similarly Milton\u2019s angels marched above the ground\n      and \u201cthe passive air upbore their nimble tread.\u201d Virgil\u2019s \u201cvera\n      incessu patuit dea\u201d may refer to the same belief.\n\n  856 That a friend of R\u00e1ma would praise him as he should be praised, and\n      that if the stranger were R\u00e1va\u1e47 in disguise he would avoid the\n      subject.\n\n  857 Kuvera the God of Gold.\n\n  858 S\u00edt\u00e1 of course knows nothing of what has happened to R\u00e1ma since the\n      time when she was carried away by R\u00e1va\u1e47. The poet therefore thinks\n      it necessary to repeat the whole story of the meeting between R\u00e1ma\n      and Sugr\u00edva, the defeat of B\u00e1l\u00ed, and subsequent events. I give the\n      briefest possible outline of the story.\n\n  859 DE GUBERNATIS thinks that this ring which the Sun R\u00e1ma sends to the\n      Dawn S\u00edt\u00e1 is a symbol of the sun\u2019s disc.\n\n  860 \u015aach\u00ed is the loved and lovely wife of Indra, and she is taken as the\n      type of a woman protected by a jealous and all-powerful husband.\n\n  861 The mountain near Kishkindh\u00e1.\n\n  862 Air\u00e1vat is the mighty elephant on which Indra delights to ride.\n\n  863 Vibhisha\u1e47 is the wicked R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s good brother.\n\n  864 Her name is Kal\u00e1, or in the Bengal recension Nand\u00e1.\n\n  865 One of R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s chief councillors.\n\n  866 Hanum\u00e1n when he entered the city had in order to escape observation\n      condensed himself to the size of a cat.\n\n  867 The brook Mand\u00e1kin\u00ed, not far from Chitrak\u00fa\u1e6da where R\u00e1ma sojourned\n      for a time.\n\n  868 The poet here changes from the second person to the third.\n\n  869 The whole long story is repeated with some slight variations and\n      additions from Book II, Canto XCVI. I give here only the outline.\n\n  870 The expedients to vanquish an enemy or to make him come to terms are\n      said to be four: conciliation, gifts, disunion, and force or\n      punishment. Hanum\u00e1n considers it useless to employ the first three\n      and resolves to punish R\u00e1va\u1e47 by destroying his pleasure-grounds.\n\n  871 Kinkar means the special servant of a sovereign, who receives his\n      orders immediately from his master. The Bengal recension gives these\n      R\u00e1kshases an epithet which the Commentator explains \u201cas generated in\n      the mind of Brahm\u00e1.\u201d\n\n  872 R\u00e1ma _de jure_ King of Ko\u015bal of which Ayodhy\u00e1 was the capital.\n\n_  873 Chaityapr\u00e1s\u00e1da_ is explained by the Commentator as the place where\n      the Gods of the R\u00e1kshases were kept. Gorresio translates it by \u201cun\n      grande edificio.\u201d\n\n  874 The bow of Indra is the rainbow.\n\n  875 We were told a few lines before that the chariot of Jambum\u00e1li was\n      drawn by asses. Here horses are spoken of. The Commentator notices\n      the discrepancy and says that by horses asses are meant.\n\n  876 Armed with the bow of Indra, the rainbow.\n\n  877 R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s son.\n\n  878 Conqueror of Indra, another of R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s sons.\n\n  879 The _\u015bloka_ which follows is probably an interpolation, as it is\n      inconsistent with the questioning in Canto L.:\n\n      He looked on R\u00e1va\u1e47 in his pride,\n      And boldly to the monarch cried:\n      \u201cI came an envoy to this place\n      From him who rules the V\u00e1nar race.\u201d\n\n  880 The ten heads of R\u00e1va\u1e47 have provoked much ridicule from European\n      critics. It should be remembered that Spenser tells us of \u201ctwo\n      brethren giants, the one of which had two heads, the other three;\u201d\n      and Milton speaks of the \u201cfour-fold visaged Four,\u201d the four Cherubic\n      shapes each of whom had four faces.\n\n  881 Durdhar, or as the Bengal recension reads Mahodara, Prahasta,\n      Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva, and Nikumbha.\n\n  882 The chief attendant of \u015aiva.\n\n  883 Bali, not to be confounded with B\u00e1li the V\u00e1nar, was a celebrated\n      Daitya or demon who had usurped the empire of the three worlds, and\n      who was deprived of two thirds of his dominions by Vish\u1e47u in the\n      Dwarf-incarnation.\n\n  884 When Hanum\u00e1n was bound with cords, Indraj\u00edt released his captive\n      from the spell laid upon him by the magic weapon.\n\n  885 \u201cOne who murders an ambassador (_r\u00e1ja bhata_) goes to Taptakumbha,\n      the hell of heated caldrons.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pura\u1e47a_, Vol. II. p.\n      217.\n\n  886 The fire which is supposed to burn beneath the sea.\n\n  887 S\u00edt\u00e1 is likened to the fire which is an emblem of purity.\n\n  888 I omit two stanzas which continue the metaphor of the sea or lake of\n      air. The moon is its lotus, the sun its wild-duck, the clouds are\n      its water-weeds, Mars is its shark and so on. Gorresio remarks:\n      \u201cThis comparison of a great lake to the sky and of celestial to\n      aquatic objects is one of those ideas which the view and qualities\n      of natural scenery awake in lively fancies. Imagine one of those\n      grand and splendid lakes of India covered with lotus blossoms,\n      furrowed by wild-ducks of the most vivid colours, mantled over here\n      and there with flowers and water weeds &c. and it will be understood\n      how the fancy of the poet could readily compare to the sky radiant\n      with celestial azure the blue expanse of the water, to the soft\n      light of the moon the inner hue of the lotus, to the splendour of\n      the sun the brilliant colours of the wild-fowl, to the stars the\n      flowers, to the cloud the weeds that float upon the water &c.\u201d\n\n  889 Sun\u00e1bha is the mountain that rose from the sea when Hanum\u00e1n passed\n      over to Lank\u00e1.\n\n  890 Three Cantos of repetition are omitted.\n\n_  891 Madhuvan_ the \u201choney-wood.\u201d\n\n  892 Indra\u2019s pleasure-ground or elysium.\n\n  893 Janak was king of Videha or Mithil\u00e1 in Behar.\n\n  894 The original contains two more Cantos which end the Book. Canto\n      LXVII begins thus: \u201cHanum\u00e1n thus addressed by the great-souled son\n      of Raghu related to the son of Raghu all that S\u00edt\u00e1 had said.\u201d And\n      the two Cantos contain nothing but Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s account of his\n      interview with S\u00edt\u00e1, and the report of his own speeches as well as\n      of hers.\n\n  895 The Sixth Book is called in Sanskrit _Yuddha-K\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_ or _The War_,\n      and _Lank\u00e1-K\u00e1\u1e47da_. It is generally known at the present day by the\n      latter title.\n\n  896 V\u00e1yu is the God of Wind.\n\n  897 Garu\u1e0da the King of Birds.\n\n  898 Serpent-Gods.\n\n  899 The God of the sea.\n\n  900 Indra\u2019s elephant.\n\n  901 Kuvera, God of wealth.\n\n  902 Kuvera\u2019s elephant.\n\n  903 The planet Venus, or its regent who is regarded as the son of Bhrigu\n      and preceptor of the Daityas.\n\n  904 The seven _rishis_ or saints who form the constellation of the Great\n      Bear.\n\n  905 Tri\u015banku was raised to the skies to form a constellation in the\n      southern hemisphere. The story in told in Book I, Canto LX.\n\n  906 The sage Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra, who performed for Tri\u015banku the great sacrifice\n      which raised him to the heavens.\n\n  907 One of the lunar asterisms containing four or originally two stars\n      under the regency of a dual divinity Indr\u00e1gni, Indra and Agni.\n\n  908 The lunar asterism M\u00fala, belonging to the R\u00e1kshases.\n\n  909 The Asurs or demons dwell imprisoned in the depths beneath the sea.\n\n  910 The God of Riches, brother and enemy of R\u00e1va\u1e47 and first possessor of\n      Pushpak the flying car.\n\n  911 King of the Serpents. \u015aankha and Takshak are two of the eight\n      Serpent Chiefs.\n\n  912 The God of Death, the Pluto of the Hindus.\n\n  913 Literally Indra\u2019s conqueror, so called from his victory over that\n      God.\n\n  914 Their names are Nikumbha, Rabhasa, S\u00farya\u015batru, Suptaghna, Yajnakopa,\n      Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva, Mahodara, Agniketu, Ra\u015bmiketu, Durdharsha, Indra\u015batru,\n      Prahasta, Vir\u00fap\u00e1ksha, Vajradansh\u1e6dra, Dh\u00famr\u00e1ksha, Durmukha, Mah\u00e1bala.\n\n  915 Similarly Antenor urges the restoration of Helen:\n\n      \u201cLet Sparta\u2019s treasures be this hour restored,\n      And Argive Helen own her ancient lord.\n      As this advice ye practise or reject,\n      So hope success, or dread the dire effect,\u201d\n\n      POPE\u2019S _Homer\u2019s Iliad_, Book VII.\n\n  916 The _Agnis\u00e1l\u00e1_ or room where the sacrificial fire was kept.\n\n  917 The exudation of a fragrant fluid from the male elephant\u2019s temples,\n      especially at certain seasons, is frequently spoken of in Sanskrit\n      poetry. It is said to deceive and attract the bees, and is regarded\n      as a sign of health and masculine vigour.\n\n  918 Consisting of warriors on elephants, warriors in chariots,\n      charioteers, and infantry.\n\n  919 Indra, generally represented as surrounded by the Maruts or\n      Storm-Gods.\n\n  920 Janasth\u00e1n, where R\u00e1ma lived as an ascetic.\n\n  921 M\u00e1y\u00e1, regarded as the paragon of female beauty, was the creation of\n      Maya the chief artificer of the Daityas or D\u00e1navs.\n\n  922 One of the Nymphs of Indra\u2019s heaven.\n\n  923 The Lotus River, a branch of the heavenly Gang\u00e1.\n\n_  924 Trilokan\u00e1tha_, Lord of the Three Worlds, is a title of Indra.\n\n  925 The celestial elephant that carries Indra.\n\n  926 As producers of the _ghi_, clarified butter or sacrificial oil, used\n      in fire-offerings.\n\n  927 This desertion to the enemy is somewhat abrupt, and is narrated with\n      brevity not usual with V\u00e1lm\u00edki. In the Bengal recension the\n      preceding speakers and speeches differ considerably from those given\n      in the text which I follow. Vibhisha\u1e47 is kicked from his seat by\n      R\u00e1va\u1e47, and then, after telling his mother what has happened, he\n      flies to Mount Kail\u00e1sa where he has an interview with \u015aiva, and by\n      his advice seeks R\u00e1ma and the V\u00e1nar army.\n\n  928 V\u1e5bihaspati the preceptor of the Gods.\n\n  929 In Book II, Canto XXI, Ka\u1e47du is mentioned by R\u00e1ma as an example of\n      filial obedience. At the command of his father he is said to have\n      killed a cow.\n\n  930 A King of the Yakshas, or Kuvera himself, the God of Gold.\n\n  931 The brace protects the left arm from injury from the bow-string, and\n      the guard protects the fingers of the right hand.\n\n  932 The story is told in Book I, Cantos XL, XLI, XLII.\n\n  933 Fiends and enemies of the Gods.\n\n  934 The Indus.\n\n  935 Cowherds, sprung from a Br\u00e1hman and a woman of the medical tribe,\n      the modern Ah\u00edrs.\n\n  936 Barbarians or outcasts.\n\n_  937 Vra\u1e47a_ means wound or rent.\n\n  938 Here in the Bengal recension (Gorresio\u2019s edition), begins Book VI.\n\n  939 The Goomtee.\n\n  940 The Anglicized Nerbudda.\n\n  941 According to a Pauranik legend Ke\u015bar\u00ed Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s putative father had\n      killed an Asur or demon who appeared in the form of an elephant, and\n      hence arose the hostility between V\u00e1nars and elephants.\n\n  942 Here follows the enumeration of Sugr\u00edva\u2019s forces which I do not\n      attempt to follow. It soon reaches a hundred thousand billions.\n\n  943 I omit the rest of this canto, which is mere repetition. R\u00e1va\u1e47 gives\n      in the same words his former answer that the Gods, Gandharvas and\n      fiends combined shall not force him to give up S\u00edt\u00e1. He then orders\n      \u015a\u00e1rd\u00fala to tell him the names of the V\u00e1nar chieftains whom he has\n      seen in R\u00e1ma\u2019s army. These have already been mentioned by \u015auka and\n      S\u00e1ra\u1e47.\n\n  944 Lakshm\u00ed is the Goddess both of beauty and fortune, and is\n      represented with a lotus in her hand.\n\n  945 The poet appears to have forgotten that \u015auka and S\u00e1ra\u1e47 were\n      dismissed with ignominy in Canto XXIX, and have not been reinstated.\n\n  946 The four who fled with him. Their names are Anala, Panasa, Samp\u00e1ti,\n      and Pramati.\n\n  947 The numbers here are comparatively moderate: ten thousand elephants,\n      ten thousand chariots, twenty thousand horses and ten million\n      giants.\n\n  948 The Kin\u015buk, also called Pal\u00e1\u015ba, is Butea Frondosa, a tree that bears\n      beautiful red crescent shaped blossoms and is deservedly a favorite\n      with poets. The Seemal or \u015a\u00e1lmal\u00ed is the silk cotton tree which also\n      bears red blossoms.\n\n  949 Varu\u1e47a.\n\n  950 The duty of a king to save the lives of his people and avoid\n      bloodshed until milder methods have been tried in vain.\n\n  951 I have omitted several of these single combats, as there is little\n      variety in the details and each duel results in the victory of the\n      V\u00e1nar or his ally.\n\n  952 Yajna\u015batru, Mah\u00e1p\u00e1r\u015bva, Mahodar, Vajradansh\u1e6dra, \u015auka, and S\u00e1ra\u1e47.\n\n  953 Angad.\n\n  954 A mysterious weapon consisting of serpents transformed to arrows\n      which deprived the wounded object of all sense and power of motion.\n\n  955 On each foot, and at the root of each finger.\n\n  956 Varu\u1e47.\n\n  957 The name of one of the mystical weapons the command over which was\n      given by Vi\u015bv\u00e1mitra to R\u00e1ma, as related in Book I.\n\n  958 One of S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s guard, and her comforter on a former occasion also.\n\n  959 The preceptor of the Gods.\n\n  960 R\u00e1ma\u2019s grandfather.\n\n  961 The Gandharvas are warriors and Minstrels of Indra\u2019s heaven.\n\n  962 \u201cIt is to be understood,\u201d says the commentator, \u201cthat this is not\n      the Akampan who has already been slain.\u201d\n\n  963 R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s son, whom Hanum\u00e1n killed when he first visited Lank\u00e1.\n\n  964 N\u00edla was the son of Agni the God of Fire, and possessed, like\n      Milton\u2019s demons, the power of dilating and condensing his form at\n      pleasure.\n\n  965 An ancient king of Ayodhy\u00e1 said by some to have been Prithu\u2019s\n      father.\n\n  966 The daughter of King Ku\u015badhwaja. She became an ascetic, and being\n      insulted by R\u00e1va\u1e47 in the woods where she was performing penance,\n      destroyed herself by entering fire, but was born again as S\u00edt\u00e1 to be\n      in turn the destruction of him who had insulted her.\n\n  967 Nand\u00ed\u015bvara was \u015aiva\u2019s chief attendant. R\u00e1va\u1e47 had despised and\n      laughed at him for appearing in the form of a monkey and the\n      irritated Nand\u00ed\u015bvara cursed him and foretold his destruction by\n      monkeys.\n\n  968 R\u00e1va\u1e47 once upheaved and shook Mount Kail\u00e1sa the favourite dwelling\n      place of \u015aiva the consort of Um\u00e1, and was cursed in consequence by\n      the offended Goddess.\n\n  969 Rambh\u00e1, who has several times been mentioned in the course of the\n      poem, was one of the nymphs of heaven, and had been insulted by\n      R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\n  970 Punjikasthal\u00e1 was the daughter of Varu\u1e47. R\u00e1va\u1e47 himself has mentioned\n      in this book his insult to her, and the curse pronounced in\n      consequence by Brahm\u00e1.\n\n  971 Pulastya was the son of Brahm\u00e1 and father of Vi\u015bravas or Paulastya\n      the father of R\u00e1va\u1e47 and Kumbhakar\u1e47a.\n\n  972 I omit a tedious sermon on the danger of rashness and the advantages\n      of prudence, sufficient to irritate a less passionate hearer than\n      R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\n  973 The Bengal recension assigns a very different speech to Kumbhakar\u1e47a\n      and makes him say that N\u00e1rad the messenger of the Gods had formerly\n      told him that Vish\u1e47u himself incarnate as Da\u015baratha\u2019s son should\n      come to destroy R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\n  974 Mahodar, Dwijihva, Sanhr\u00e1da, and Vitardan.\n\n  975 A name of Vish\u1e47u.\n\n  976 There is so much commonplace repetition in these Sallies of the\n      R\u00e1kshas chieftains that omissions are frequently necessary. The\n      usual ill omens attend the sally of Kumbhakar\u1e47a, and the Canto ends\n      with a description of the terrified V\u00e1nars\u2019 flight which is briefly\n      repeated in different words at the beginning of the next Canto.\n\n  977 K\u00e1rtikeya the God of War, and the hero and incarnation Para\u015bur\u00e1ma\n      are said to have cut a passage through the mountain Krauncha, a part\n      of the Him\u00e1layan range, in the same way as the immense gorge that\n      splits the Pyrenees under the towers of Marbor\u00e9 was cloven at one\n      blow of Roland\u2019s sword Durandal.\n\n  978 Rishabh, \u015aarabh, N\u00edla, Gav\u00e1ksha, and Gandham\u00e1dan.\n\n  979 Angad. The text calls him the son of the son of him who holds the\n      thunderbolt, _i.e._ the grandson of Indra.\n\n  980 Literally, weighing a thousand _bh\u00e1ras_. The _bh\u00e1ra_ is a weight\n      equal to 2000 _palas_, the _pala_ is equal to four _kar\u015bas_, and the\n      _kar\u015ba_ to 11375 French grammes or about 176 grains troy. The spear\n      seems very light for a warrior of Kumbhakar\u1e47a\u2019s strength and stature\n      and the work performed with it.\n\n  981 The custom of throwing parched or roasted grain, with wreaths and\n      flowers, on the heads of kings and conquerors when they go forth to\n      battle and return is frequently mentioned by Indian poets.\n\n  982 Lakshma\u1e47.\n\n  983 I have abridged this long Canto by omitting some vain repetitions,\n      commonplace epithets and similes and other unimportant matter. There\n      are many verses in this Canto which European scholars would rigidly\n      exclude as unmistakeably the work of later rhapsodists. Even the\n      reverent Commentator whom I follow ventures to remark once or twice:\n      _Ayam \u015bloka prak shipta iti bahavah_, \u201cThis _\u015bloka_ or verse is in\n      the opinion of many interpolated.\u201d\n\n  984 Narak was a demon, son of Bh\u00fami or Earth, who haunted the city\n      Pr\u00e1gjyotisha.\n\n  985 \u015aambar was a demon of drought.\n\n  986 Indra.\n\n  987 Dev\u00e1ntak (Slayer of Gods) Nar\u00e1ntak (Slayer of Men) Atik\u00e1ya (Huge of\n      Frame) and Tri\u015bir\u00e1s (Three Headed) were all sons of R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\n  988 The demon of eclipse who seizes the Sun and Moon.\n\n  989 Lakshma\u1e47.\n\n  990 In such cases as this I am not careful to reproduce the numbers of\n      the poet, which in the text which I follow are 670000000; the Bengal\n      recension being content with thirty million less.\n\n  991 The discus or quoit, a sharp-edged circular missile is the favourite\n      weapon of Vish\u1e47u.\n\n  992 To destroy Tripura the triple city in the sky, air and earth, built\n      by Maya for a celebrated Asur or demon, or as another commentator\n      explains, to destroy Kandarpa or Love.\n\n  993 The Lokap\u00e1las are sometimes regarded as deities appointed by Brahm\u00e1\n      at the creation of the word to act as guardians of different orders\n      of beings, but more commonly they are identified with the deities\n      presiding over the four cardinal and four intermediate points of the\n      compass, which, according to Manu V. 96, are 1, Indra, guardian of\n      the East; 2, Agni, of the South-east; 3, Y\u00e1ma, of the South; 4,\n      S\u00farya, of the South-west; 5, Varu\u1e47a, of the West; 6, Pavana or V\u00e1yu,\n      of the North-west; 7, Kuvera, of the North; 8, Soma or Chandra, of\n      the North-east.\n\n  994 The chariots of R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s present army are said to have been one\n      hundred and fifty million in number with three hundred million\n      elephants, and twelve hundred million horses and asses. The footmen\n      are merely said to have been \u201cunnumbered.\u201d\n\n  995 It is not very easy to see the advantage of having arrows headed in\n      the way mentioned. Fanciful names for war-engines and weapons\n      derived from their resemblance to various animals are not confined\n      to India. The \u201cWar-wolf\u201d was used by Edward I. at the siege of\n      Brechin, the \u201cCat-house\u201d and the \u201cSow\u201d were used by Edward III. at\n      the siege of Dunbar.\n\n  996 Apparently a peak of the Himalaya chain.\n\n  997 This exploit of Hanum\u00e1n is related with inordinate prolixity in the\n      Bengal recension (Gortesio\u2019s text). Among other adventures he\n      narrowly escapes being shot by Bharat as he passes over Nandigrama\n      near Ayodhy\u00e1. Hanum\u00e1n stays Bharat in time, and gives him an account\n      of what has befallen R\u00e1ma and S\u00edt\u00e1 in the forest and in Lank\u00e1.\n\n  998 As Garu\u1e0d the king of birds is the mortal enemy of serpents the\n      weapon sacred to him is of course best calculated to destroy the\n      serpent arrows of R\u00e1va\u1e47.\n\n  999 The celebrated saint who has on former occasions assisted R\u00e1ma with\n      his gifts and counsel.\n\n 1000 Indra.\n\n 1001 Y\u00e1ma.\n\n 1002 K\u00e1rtikeya.\n\n 1003 Kubera.\n\n 1004 Varu\u1e47.\n\n 1005 The Pitris, forefathers or spirits of the dead, are of two kinds,\n      either the spirits of the father, grandfathers and\n      great-grandfathers of an individual or the progenitors of mankind\n      generally, to both of whom obsequial worship is paid and oblations\n      of food are presented.\n\n 1006 The Maruts or Storm-Gods.\n\n 1007 The Heavenly Twins, the Castor and Pollux of the Hindus.\n\n 1008 The Man _par excellence_, the representative man and father of the\n      human race regarded also as God.\n\n 1009 The Vasus, a class of deities originally personifications of natural\n      phenomena.\n\n 1010 A class of celestial beings who dwell between the earth and the sun.\n\n 1011 The seven horses are supposed to symbolize the seven days of the\n      week.\n\n 1012 One for each month in the year.\n\n 1013 The garden of Kuvera, the God of Riches.\n\n 1014 The consort of Indra.\n\n 1015 The Swayamvara, Self-choice or election of a husband by a princess\n      or daughter of a Kshatriya at a public assembly of suitors held for\n      the purpose. For a description of the ceremony see _Nala and\n      Damayant\u00ed_ an episode of the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rat translated by the late Dean\n      Milman, and _Idylls from the Sanskrit_.\n\n 1016 The Pitris or Manes, the spirits of the dead.\n\n 1017 Kuvera, the God of Wealth.\n\n 1018 Varu\u1e47, God of the sea.\n\n 1019 Mah\u00e1deva or \u015aiva whose ensign is a bull.\n\n 1020 The Address to R\u00e1ma, both text and commentary, will be found\n      literally translated in the Additional Notes. A paraphrase of a\n      portion is all that I have attempted here.\n\n 1021 R\u00e1va\u1e47\u2019s queen.\n\n 1022 Or Main\u00e1ka.\n\n 1023 Here, in the North-west recension, S\u00edt\u00e1 expresses a wish that T\u00e1r\u00e1\n      and the wives of the V\u00e1nar chiefs should be invited to accompany her\n      to Ayodhy\u00e1. The car decends, and the V\u00e1nar matrons are added to the\n      party. The Bengal recension ignores this palpable interruption.\n\n 1024 The _arghya_, a respectful offering to Gods and venerable men\n      consisting of rice, d\u00faiv\u00e1 grass, flowers etc., with water.\n\n 1025 I have abridged Hanum\u00e1n\u2019s outline of R\u00e1ma\u2019s adventures, with the\n      details of which we are already sufficiently acquainted.\n\n 1026 In these respectful salutations the person who salutes his superior\n      mentions his own name even when it is well known to the person whom\n      he salutes.\n\n 1027 I have omitted the chieftains\u2019 names as they could not be introduced\n      without padding. They are Mainda, Dwivid, N\u00edla, Rishabh, Sushe\u1e47,\n      Nala, Gav\u00e1ksha, Gandham\u00e1dan, \u015aarabh, and Panas.\n\n 1028 The following addition is found in the Bengal recension: But\n      Vai\u015brava\u1e47 (Kuvera) when he beheld his chariot said unto it: \u201cGo, and\n      carry R\u00e1ma, and come unto me when my thought shall call thee, And\n      the chariot returned unto R\u00e1ma;\u201d and he honoured it when he had\n      heard what had passed.\n\n 1029 Here follows in the original an enumeration of the chief blessings\n      which will attend the man or woman who reads or hears read this tale\n      of R\u00e1ma. These blessings are briefly mentioned at the end of the\n      first Canto of the first book, and it appears unnecessary to repeat\n      them here in their amplified form. The Bengal recension (Gorresio\u2019s\n      edition) gives them more concisely as follows: \u201cThis is the great\n      first poem blessed and glorious, which gives long life to men and\n      victory to kings, the poem which V\u00e1lm\u00edki made. He who listens to\n      this wondrous tale of R\u00e1ma unwearied in action shall be absolved\n      from all his sins. By listening to the deeds of R\u00e1ma he who wishes\n      for sons shall obtain his heart\u2019s desire, and to him who longs for\n      riches shall riches be given. The virgin who asks for a husband\n      shall obtain a husband suited to her mind, and shall meet again her\n      dear kinsfolk who are far away. They who hear this poem which\n      V\u00e1lm\u00edki made shall obtain all their desires and all their prayers\n      shall be fulfilled.\u201d\n\n_ 1030 The Academy_, Vol. III., No 43, contains an able and interesting\n      notice of this work from the pen of the Professor of Sanskrit in the\n      University of Cambridge: \u201cThe _Uttarak\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_,\u201d Mr. Cowell remarks,\n      \u201cbears the same relation to the _R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a_ as the Cyclic poems to\n      the _Iliad_. Just as the _Cypria_ of Stasinus, the _\u00c6thiopis_ of\n      Arctinus, and the little _Iliad_ of Lesches completed the story of\n      the _Iliad_, and not only added the series of events which preceded\n      and followed it, but also founded episodes of their own on isolated\n      allusions in Homer, so the _Uttarak\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_ is intended to complete the\n      _R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a_, and at the same time to supplement it by intervening\n      episodes to explain casual allusions or isolated incidents which\n      occur in it. Thus the early history of the giant R\u00e1va\u1e47a and his\n      family fills nearly forty Chapters, and we have a full account of\n      his wars with the gods and his conquest of Lank\u00e1, which all happened\n      long before the action of the poem commences, just as the _Cypria_\n      narrated the birth and early history of Helen, and the two\n      expeditions of the Greeks against Troy; and the latter chapters\n      continue the history of the hero R\u00e1ma after his triumphant return to\n      his paternal kingdom, and the poem closes with his death and that of\n      his brothers, and the founding by their descendants of various\n      kingdoms in different parts of India.\u201d\n\n 1031 MUIR, _Sanskrit Texts,_ Part IV., pp. 414 ff.\n\n 1032 MUIR, _Sanskrit Texts_, Part IV., 391, 392.\n\n 1033 See _Academy_, III., 43.\n\n_ 1034 Academy_, Vol. III., No. 43.\n\n 1035 E. B. Cowell. _Academy_, No. 43. The story of S\u00edt\u00e1\u2019s banishment will\n      be found roughly translated from the _Raghuva\u1e47\u015ba_, in the Additional\n      Notes.\n\n 1036 E. B. Cowell. _Academy_, Vol, III, No. 43.\n\n 1037 MUIR, _Sanskrit Texts_, Part IV., Appendix.\n\n 1038 Gh\u00ed: clarified butter. Gur: molasses.\n\n 1039 Haridwar (Anglic\u00e8 Hurdwar) where the Ganges enters the plain\n      country.\n\n 1040 Campbell in \u201cJourn. As. Soc. Bengal,\u201d 1866, Part ii. p. 132; Latham,\n      \u201cDescr. Eth.\u201d Vol. ii. p. 456; Tod, \u201cAnnals of Rajasthan,\u201d Vol. i.\n      p. 114.\n\n 1041 Said by the commentator to be an eastern people between the\n      Him\u00e1layan and Vindhyan chains.\n\n 1042 Videha was a district in the province of Behar, the ancient Mithil\u00e1\n      or the modern Tirhoot.\n\n 1043 The people of Malwa.\n\n 1044 \u201cThe K\u00e1\u015biko\u015balas are a central nation in the V\u00e1yu Pur\u00e1\u1e47a. The\n      R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a places them in the east. The combination indicates the\n      country between Benares and Oude.\u2026 Ko\u015bala is a name variously\n      applied. Its earliest and most celebrated application is to the\n      country on the banks of the Saray\u00fa, the kingdom of R\u00e1ma, of which\n      Ayodhy\u00e1 was the capital.\u2026 In the Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata we have one Ko\u015bala in\n      the east and another in the south, besides the Pr\u00e1k-Ko\u015balas and\n      Uttara Ko\u015balas in the east and north. The Pur\u00e1\u1e47as place the Ko\u015balas\n      amongst the people on the back of Vindhya; and it would appear from\n      the V\u00e1yu that Ku\u015ba the son of R\u00e1ma transferred his kingdom to a more\n      central position; he ruled over Ko\u015bala at his capital of K\u00fa\u015basthali\n      of Ku\u015bavat\u00ed, built upon the Vindhyan precipices.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vishn\u1e47u\n      P\u00fara\u1e47a_, Vol. II. pp. 157, 172.\n\n 1045 The people of south Behar.\n\n 1046 The Pu\u1e47\u1e0dras are said to be the inhabitants of the western provinces\n      of Bengal. \u201cIn the _Aitareyabr\u00e1hma\u1e47a_, VII. 18, it is said that the\n      elder sons of Vi\u015bvamitra were cursed to become progenitors of most\n      abject races, such as Andhras, Pu\u1e47\u1e0dras, \u015aabaras, Pulindas, and\n      M\u00fatibas.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_ Vol. II. 170.\n\n 1047 Anga is the country about Bhagulpore, of which Champ\u00e1 was the\n      capital.\n\n 1048 A fabulous people, \u201cmen who use their ears as a covering.\u201d So Sir\n      John Maundevile says: \u201cAnd in another Yle ben folk that han gret\n      Eres and long, that hangen down to here knees,\u201d and Pliny, lib. iv.\n      c. 13: \u201cIn quibus nuda alioquin corpora pr\u00e6grandes ipsorum aures\n      tota contegunt.\u201d Isidore calls them Panotii.\n\n 1049 \u201cThose whose ears hang down to their lips.\u201d\n\n 1050 \u201cThe Iron-faces.\u201d\n\n 1051 \u201cThe One-footed.\u201d\n\n      \u201cIn that Contree,\u201d says Sir John Maundevile, \u201cben folk, that han but\n      o foot and thei gon so fast that it is marvaylle: and the foot is so\n      large that it schadeweth alle the Body azen the Sonne, when thei\n      wole lye and rest hem.\u201d So Pliny, Natural History, lib. vii. c. 2:\n      speaks of \u201cHominumn gens \u2026 singulis cruribus, mir\u00e6 pernicitatis ad\n      saltum; eosdemque Sciopodas vocari, quod in majori \u00e6stu, humi\n      jacentes resupini, umbr\u00e2 se pedum protegant.\u201d\n\n      These epithets are, as Professor Wilson remarks, \u201cexaggerations of\n      national ugliness, or allusions to peculiar customs, which were not\n      literally intended, although they may have furnished the Mandevilles\n      of ancient and modern times.\u201d\n\n      _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. II. p. 162.\n\n 1052 The Kirrhad\u00e6 of Arrian: a general name for savage tribes living in\n      woods and mountains.\n\n 1053 Said by the commentator to be half tigers half men.\n\n 1054 The kingdom seems to have corresponded with the greater part of\n      Berar and Khandesh.\n\n 1055 The Bengal recension has Kishikas, and places them both in the south\n      and the north.\n\n 1056 The people of Mysore.\n\n 1057 \u201cThere are two Matsyas, one of which, according to the Yantra\n      Samr\u00e1j, is identifiable with Jeypoor. In the Digvijaya of Nakula he\n      subdues the Matsyas further to the west, or Gujerat.\u201d WILSON\u2019S\n      _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. II. 158. Dr. Hall observes: \u201cIn the\n      _Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata Sabh\u00e1-parwan_, 1105 and 1108, notice is taken of the\n      king of Matsya and of the Aparamatsyas; and, at 1082, the Matsyas\n      figure as an eastern people. They are placed among the nations of\n      the south in the _R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a Kishkindh\u00e1-k\u00e1\u1e47da_, XLI., II, while the\n      Bengal recension, _Kishkindh\u00e1-k\u00e1\u1e47\u1e0da_, XLIV., 12, locates them in the\n      north.\u201d\n\n 1058 The Kalingas were the people of the upper part of the Coromandel\n      Coast, well known, in the traditions of the Eastern Archipelago, as\n      Kling. Ptolemy has a city in that part, called Caliga; and Pliny\n      Caling\u00e6 proximi mari. WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_, Vol. II. 156, Note.\n\n 1059 The Kau\u015bikas do not appear to be identifiable.\n\n 1060 The Andhras probably occupied the modern Telingana.\n\n 1061 The Pu\u1e47\u1e0dras have already been mentioned in Canto XL.\n\n 1062 The inhabitants of the lower part of the Coromandel Coast; so\n      called, after them, Cholama\u1e47dala.\n\n 1063 A people in the Deccan.\n\n 1064 The Keralas were the people of Malabar proper.\n\n 1065 A generic term for persons speaking any language but Sanskrit and\n      not conforming to the usual Hindu institutions.\n\n 1066 \u201cPulinda is applied to any wild or barbarous tribe. Those here named\n      are some of the people of the deserts along the Indus; but Pulindas\n      are met with in many other positions, especially in the mountains\n      and forests across Central India, the haunts of the Bheels and\n      Gonds. So Ptolemy places the Pulindas along the banks of the\n      Narmad\u00e1, to the frontiers of Larice, the L\u00e1t\u00e1 or L\u00e1r of the\n      Hindus,\u2014Khandesh and part of Gujerat.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_,\n      Vol. II. 159, Note.\n\n      Dr. Hall observes that \u201cin the Bengal recension of the _R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a_\n      the Pulindas appear both in the south and in the north. The real\n      _R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a_ K.-k., XLIII., speaks of the northern Pulindas.\u201d\n\n 1067 The \u015a\u00farasenas were the inhabitants of Mathur\u00e1, the Suraseni of\n      Arrian.\n\n 1068 These the Mardi of the Greeks and the two preceding tribes appear to\n      have dwelt in the north-west of Hindustan.\n\n 1069 The K\u00e1mbojas are said to be the people of Arachosia. They are always\n      mentioned with the north-western tribes.\n\n 1070 \u201cThe term Yavanas, although, in later times, applied to the\n      Mohammedans, designated formerly the Greeks.\u2026 The Greeks were known\n      throughout Western Asia by the term Yavan, or Ion. That the\n      Macedonian or Bactrian Greeks were most usually intended is not only\n      probable from their position and relations with India, but from\n      their being usually named in concurrence with the north-western\n      tribes, K\u00e1mbojas, Daradas, P\u00e1radas, B\u00e1hl\u00edkas, \u015aakas &c., in the\n      R\u00e1m\u00e1ya\u1e47a. Mah\u00e1bh\u00e1rata, Pur\u00e1nas, Manu, and in various poems and\n      plays.\u201d WILSON\u2019S _Vish\u1e47u Pur\u00e1\u1e47a_ Vol. II. p. 181, Note.\n\n 1071 These people, the Sakai and Sac\u00e6 of classical writers, the\n      Indo-Scythians of Ptolemy, extended, about the commencement of our\n      era, along the west of India, from the Hindu Kosh to the mouths of\n      the Indus.\n\n 1072 The corresponding passage in the Bengal recension has instead of\n      Varadas Daradas the Dards or inhabitants of the modern Dardistan\n      along the course of the Indus, above the Him\u00e1layas, just before it\n      descends to India.\n\n 1073 From the word yonder it would appear that the prayer is to be\n      repeated at the rising of the Sun.\n\n 1074 The creator of the world and the first of the Hindu triad.\n\n 1075 He who pervades all beings; or the second of the Hindu triad who\n      preserves the world.\n\n 1076 The bestower of blessings; the third of the Hindu triad and the\n      destroyer of the world.\n\n 1077 A name of the War-God; also one who urges the senses to action.\n\n 1078 The lord of creatures; or the God of sacrifices.\n\n 1079 A name of the King of Gods; also all-powerful.\n\n 1080 The giver of wealth. A name of the God of riches.\n\n 1081 One who directly urges the mental faculties to action.\n\n 1082 One who moderates the senses, also the God of the regions of the\n      dead.\n\n 1083 One who produces nectar (amrita) or one who is always possessed of\n      light; or one together with Um\u00e1 (Ardhan\u00e1r\u00ed\u015bvara).\n\n 1084 The names or spirits of departed ancestors.\n\n 1085 Name of a class of eight Gods, also wealthy.\n\n 1086 They who are to be served by Yog\u00eds; or a class of Gods named\n      S\u00e1dhyas.\n\n 1087 The two physicians of the Gods: or they who pervade all beings.\n\n 1088 They who are immortal; or a class of Gods forty-nine in number.\n\n 1089 Omniscient; or the first king of the world.\n\n 1090 He that moves; life; or the God of wind.\n\n 1091 The God of fire.\n\n 1092 Lord of creatures.\n\n 1093 One who prolongs our lives.\n\n 1094 The material cause of knowledge and of the seasons.\n\n 1095 One who shines. The giver of light.\n\n 1096 The hymn entitled the \u00c1dityahridaya begins from this verse and the\n      words, thou art, are understood in the beginning of this verse.\n\n 1097 One who enjoys all (pleasurable) objects; The son of Aditi, the lord\n      of the solar disk.\n\n 1098 One who creates the world, i.e., endows beings with life or soul,\n      and by his rays causes rain and thereby produces corn.\n\n 1099 One who urges the world to action or puts the world in motion, who\n      is omnipresent.\n\n 1100 One who walks through the sky; or pervades the soul.\n\n 1101 One who nourishes the world, i.e., is the supporter.\n\n 1102 One having rays (Gabhasti) or he who is possessed of the\n      all-pervading goddess Lakshm\u00ed.\n\n 1103 One resembling gold.\n\n 1104 One who is resplendent or who gives light to other objects.\n\n 1105 One whose seed (Retas) is gold; or quicksilver, the material cause\n      of gold.\n\n 1106 One who is the cause of day.\n\n 1107 One whose horses are of tawny colour; or one who pervades the whole\n      space or quarters.\n\n 1108 One whose knowledge is boundless or who has a thousand rays.\n\n 1109 One who urges the seven (Pr\u00e1\u1e47as) that is the two eyes, the two ears,\n      the nostrils and the organ of speech, or whose chariot, is drawn by\n      seven horses.\n\n 1110 Vide Gabhastim\u00e1n.\n\n 1111 One who destroys darkness, or ignorance.\n\n 1112 One from whom our blessings or the enjoyments of Paradise come.\n\n 1113 The architect of the gods; or one who lessens the miseries of our\n      birth and death.\n\n 1114 One who gives life to the lifeless world.\n\n 1115 One who pervades the internal and external worlds; or one who is\n      resplendent.\n\n 1116 He who is identified with the Hindu triad, i.e. the creator (Brahm\u00e1)\n      the supporter (Vishnu) and the destroyer (\u015aiva).\n\n 1117 Cold or good natured. He is so called because he allays the three\n      sorts of pain.\n\n 1118 One who is the lord of all.\n\n 1119 Vide Div\u00e1kara.\n\n 1120 One who teaches Brahm\u00e1 and others the Vedas.\n\n 1121 One from whom Rudra the destroyer or the third of the Hindu triad\n      springs.\n\n 1122 One who is knowable through Aditi, i.e., the eternal Brahmavidy\u00e1.\n\n 1123 Great happiness or the sky.\n\n 1124 The destroyer of cold or stupidity.\n\n 1125 The Lord of the sky.\n\n 1126 Vide Timironmathana.\n\n 1127 One who is known through the Upanishads.\n\n 1128 He who is the cause of heavy rain.\n\n 1129 He who is a friend to the good, or who is the cause of water.\n\n 1130 One who moves in the solar orbit.\n\n 1131 One who determines the creation of the world; or who is possessed of\n      heat.\n\n 1132 One who has a mass of rays; or who has Kaustubha and other precious\n      stones as his ornaments.\n\n 1133 He who urges all to action; or who is yellow in colour.\n\n 1134 One who is the destroyer of all.\n\n 1135 One who is omniscient; or a poet.\n\n 1136 One who is identified with the whole world.\n\n 1137 One who is of huge form.\n\n 1138 One who pleases all by giving nourishment; or who is red in colour.\n\n 1139 One who is the cause of the whole world.\n\n 1140 One who protects the whole world.\n\n 1141 The most glorious of all that are glorious.\n\n 1142 One who is identical with the twelve months.\n\n 1143 One who gives victory over all the worlds to those who are\n      faithfully devoted to him; or the porter of Brahm\u00e1, named Jaya.\n\n 1144 One who is identical with the blessing which can be obtained by\n      conquering all the worlds; or with the porter of Brahm\u00e1 named\n      Jayabhadra.\n\n 1145 One who has Han\u00fam\u00e1n as his conveyance.\n\n 1146 One who controls the senses; or is furious with those who are not\n      his devotees.\n\n 1147 He who is free in moving the senses; or urges all beings to action.\n\n 1148 He who can be known through the Pranava (the mystical Om-k\u00e1ra.)\n\n 1149 One who is the knowledge of Brahm\u00e1.\n\n 1150 One who devours all things.\n\n 1151 He who is the destroyer of all pains; and of love, and hate, the\n      causes of pain; and ignorance which is the cause of love and hate.\n\n 1152 One who is bliss; or the mover.\n\n 1153 One who destroys ignorance and its effects.\n\n 1154 The doer of all actions.\n\n 1155 One who beholds the universe; who is a witness of good and bad\n      actions.\n\n 1156 Sacrifice of the five sensual fires.\n\n 1157 According to \u00c1pastamba (says the commentator) \u201cit should have been\n      placed on the nose: this must therefore have been done in conformity\n      with some other S\u00fatras.\u201d\n\n 1158 A class of eight gods.\n\n 1159 A class of eleven gods called Rudras.\n\n 1160 Named V\u00edryav\u00e1n.\n\n 1161 A class of divine devotees named S\u00e1dhyas.\n\n 1162 One who resides in the water.\n\n 1163 The third incarnation of Vish\u1e47u, that bore the earth on his tusk.\n\n 1164 One whose armies are everywhere.\n\n 1165 One who controls the senses.\n\n 1166 He who resides in the heart, or who is full, or all-pervading.\n\n 1167 V\u00e1mana, or the Dwarf incarnation of Vish\u1e47u.\n\n 1168 The killer of Madhu, a demon.\n\n 1169 He from whose navel, the lotus, from which Brahm\u00e1 was born, springs.\n\n 1170 He who has a thousand horns. The horns are here the S\u00e1kh\u00e1s of the\n      S\u00e1ma-veda.\n\n 1171 One who has a hundred heads. The heads are here meant to devote a\n      hundred commandments of the Vedas.\n\n 1172 Siddhas are those who have already gained the summit of their\n      desires.\n\n 1173 S\u00e1dhyas are those that are still trying to gain the summit.\n\n 1174 A mystic syllable uttered in Mantras.\n\n 1175 A mystic syllable made of the letters which respectively denote\n      Brahm\u00e1, Vish\u1e47u, and \u015aiva.\n\n 1176 A class of divine gods.\n\n 1177 Sansk\u00e1ras are those sacred writings through which the divine\n      commands and prohibitions are known.\n\n 1178 Bali, a demon whom V\u00e1mana confined in P\u00e1t\u00e1la.\n\n 1179 Vish\u1e47u, the second of the Hindu triad.\n\n 1180 Krish\u1e47a, (black coloured) one of the ten incarnations of Vish\u1e47u.\n\n 1181 A. Weber, _Akademische Vorlesungen_, p. 181.\n\n 1182 Systema brahmanicum, liturgicum, mythologicum, civile, exmonumentis\n      Indicis, etc.\n\n 1183 Not only have the races of India translated or epitomized it, but\n      foreign nations have appropriated it wholly or in part, Persia,\n      Java, and Japan itself.\n\n 1184 In the third century B.C.","title":"The R\u00e1m\u00e1yan of V\u00e1lm\u00edki, translated into English verse","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":399123}