Book III. Forest (part1)

  • user warning: UPDATE command denied to user 'piv1691_db'@'91.206.201.251' for table 'cache_filter' query: UPDATE cache_filter SET data = '<p>BOOK III.<br />\nCanto I. The Hermitage.<br />\nWhen Ráma, valiant hero, stood<br />\nIn the vast shade of Daṇḍak wood,<br />\nHis eyes on every side he bent<br />\nAnd saw a hermit settlement,<br />\nWhere coats of bark were hung around,<br />\nAnd holy grass bestrewed the ground.<br />\nBright with Bráhmanic lustre glowed<br />\nThat circle where the saints abode:<br />\nLike the hot sun in heaven it shone,<br />\nToo dazzling to be looked upon.<br />\nWild creatures found a refuge where<br />\nThe court, well-swept, was bright and fair,<br />\nAnd countless birds and roedeer made<br />\nTheir dwelling in the friendly shade.<br />\nBeneath the boughs of well-loved trees<br />\nOft danced the gay Apsarases.401<br />\nAround was many an ample shed<br />\nWherein the holy fire was fed;<br />\nWith sacred grass and skins of deer,<br />\nLadles and sacrificial gear,<br />\nAnd roots and fruit, and wood to burn,<br />\n401Heavenly nymphs.<br />\n808<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd many a brimming water-urn.<br />\nTall trees their hallowed branches spread,<br />\nLaden with pleasant fruit, o\'erhead;<br />\nAnd gifts which holy laws require,402<br />\nAnd solemn offerings burnt with fire,403<br />\nAnd Veda chants on every side<br />\nThat home of hermits sanctified.<br />\nThere many a flower its odour shed,<br />\nAnd lotus blooms the lake o\'erspred.<br />\nThere, clad in coats of bark and hide,—<br />\nTheir food by roots and fruit supplied,—<br />\nDwelt many an old and reverend sire<br />\nBright as the sun or Lord of Fire,<br />\nAll with each worldly sense subdued,<br />\nA pure and saintly multitude.<br />\nThe Veda chants, the saints who trod<br />\nThe sacred ground and mused on God,<br />\nMade that delightful grove appear<br />\nLike Brahmá\'s own most glorious sphere.<br />\nAs Raghu\'s splendid son surveyed<br />\nThat hermit home and tranquil shade,<br />\nHe loosed his mighty bow-string, then<br />\nDrew nearer to the holy men.<br />\n[230]<br />\nWith keen celestial sight endued<br />\nThose mighty saints the chieftain viewed,<br />\nWith joy to meet the prince they came,<br />\nAnd gentle Sítá dear to fame.<br />\nThey looked on virtuous Ráma, fair<br />\nAs Soma404in the evening air,<br />\nAnd Lakshmaṇ by his brother\'s side,<br />\n402The ball or present of food to all created beings.<br />\n403The clarified butter &amp;c. cast into the sacred fire.<br />\n404The Moon-God: “he is,” says the commentator, “the special deity of<br />\nBráhmans.”<br />\nCanto I. The Hermitage.<br />\n809<br />\nAnd Sítá long in duty tried,<br />\nAnd with glad blessings every sage<br />\nReceived them in the hermitage.<br />\nThen Ráma\'s form and stature tall<br />\nEntranced the wondering eyes of all,—<br />\nHis youthful grace, his strength of limb,<br />\nAnd garb that nobly sat on him.<br />\nTo Lakshmaṇ too their looks they raised,<br />\nAnd upon Sítá\'s beauty gazed<br />\nWith eyes that closed not lest their sight<br />\nShould miss the vision of delight.<br />\nThen the pure hermits of the wood,<br />\nRejoicing in all creatures\' good,<br />\nTheir guest, the glorious Ráma, led<br />\nWithin a cot with leaves o\'erhead.<br />\nWith highest honour all the best<br />\nOf radiant saints received their guest,<br />\nWith kind observance, as is meet,<br />\nAnd gave him water for his feet.<br />\nTo highest pitch of rapture wrought<br />\nTheir stores of roots and fruit they brought.<br />\nThey poured their blessings on his head,<br />\nAnd “All we have is thine,” they said.<br />\nThen, reverent hand to hand applied,405<br />\nEach duty-loving hermit cried:<br />\n“The king is our protector, bright<br />\nIn fame, maintainer of the right.<br />\nHe bears the awful sword, and hence<br />\nDeserves an elder\'s reverence.<br />\nOne fourth of Indra\'s essence, he<br />\nPreserves his realm from danger free,<br />\n405“Because he was an incarnation of the deity,” says the commentator, “oth-<br />\nerwise such honour paid by men of the sacerdotal caste to one of the military<br />\nwould be improper.”<br />\n810<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHence honoured by the world of right<br />\nThe king enjoys each choice delight.<br />\nThou shouldst to us protection give,<br />\nFor in thy realm, dear lord, we live:<br />\nWhether in town or wood thou be,<br />\nThou art our king, thy people we.<br />\nOur wordly aims are laid aside,<br />\nOur hearts are tamed and purified.<br />\nTo thee our guardian, we who earn<br />\nOur only wealth by penance turn.”<br />\nThen the pure dwellers in the shade<br />\nTo Raghu\'s son due honour paid,<br />\nAnd Lakshmaṇ, bringing store of roots,<br />\nAnd many a flower, and woodland fruits.<br />\nAnd others strove the prince to please<br />\nWith all attentive courtesies.<br />\nCanto II. Virádha.<br />\nThus entertained he passed the night,<br />\nThen, with the morning\'s early light,<br />\nTo all the hermits bade adieu<br />\nAnd sought his onward way anew.<br />\nHe pierced the mighty forest where<br />\nRoamed many a deer and pard and bear:<br />\nIts ruined pools he scarce could see.<br />\nFor creeper rent and prostrate tree,<br />\nWhere shrill cicada\'s cries were heard,<br />\nAnd plaintive notes of many a bird.<br />\nDeep in the thickets of the wood<br />\nCanto II. Virádha.<br />\n811<br />\nWith Lakshmaṇ and his spouse he stood,<br />\nThere in the horrid shade he saw<br />\nA giant passing nature\'s law:<br />\nVast as some mountain-peak in size,<br />\nWith mighty voice and sunken eyes,<br />\nHuge, hideous, tall, with monstrous face,<br />\nMost ghastly of his giant race.<br />\nA tiger\'s hide the Rákshas wore<br />\nStill reeking with the fat and gore:<br />\nHuge-faced, like Him who rules the dead,<br />\nAll living things he struck with dread.<br />\nThree lions, tigers four, ten deer<br />\nHe carried on his iron spear,<br />\nTwo wolves, an elephant\'s head beside<br />\nWith mighty tusks which blood-drops dyed.<br />\nWhen on the three his fierce eye fell,<br />\nHe charged them with a roar and yell<br />\nAs furious as the grisly King<br />\nWhen stricken worlds are perishing.<br />\nThen with a mighty roar that shook<br />\nThe earth beneath their feet, he took<br />\nThe trembling Sítá to his side.<br />\nWithdrew a little space, and cried:<br />\n“Ha, short lived wretches, ye who dare,<br />\nIn hermit dress with matted hair,<br />\nArmed each with arrows, sword, and bow,<br />\nThrough Daṇḍak\'s pathless wood to go:<br />\nHow with one dame, I bid you tell,<br />\nCan you among ascetics dwell?<br />\nWho are ye, sinners, who despise<br />\nThe right, in holy men\'s disguise?<br />\nThe great Virádha, day by day<br />\nThrough this deep-tangled wood I stray,<br />\nAnd ever, armed with trusty steel,<br />\n812<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nI seize a saint to make my meal.<br />\nThis woman young and fair of frame<br />\nShall be the conquering giant\'s dame:<br />\nYour blood, ye things of evil life,<br />\nMy lips shall quaff in battle strife.”<br />\nHe spoke: and Janak\'s hapless child,<br />\nScared by his speech so fierce and wild,<br />\n[231]<br />\nTrembled for terror, as a frail<br />\nYoung plantain shivers in the gale.<br />\nWhen Ráma saw Virádha clasp<br />\nFair Sítá in his mighty grasp,<br />\nThus with pale lips that terror dried<br />\nThe hero to his brother cried:<br />\n“O see Virádha\'s arm enfold<br />\nMy darling in its cursed hold,—<br />\nThe child of Janak best of kings,<br />\nMy spouse whose soul to virtue clings,<br />\nSweet princess, with pure glory bright,<br />\nNursed in the lap of soft delight.<br />\nNow falls the blow Kaikeyí meant,<br />\nSuccessful in her dark intent:<br />\nThis day her cruel soul will be<br />\nTriumphant over thee and me.<br />\nThough Bharat on the throne is set,<br />\nHer greedy eyes look farther yet:<br />\nMe from my home she dared expel,<br />\nMe whom all creatures loved so well.<br />\nThis fatal day at length, I ween,<br />\nBrings triumph to the younger queen.<br />\nI see with bitterest grief and shame<br />\nAnother touch the Maithil dame.<br />\nNot loss of sire and royal power<br />\nSo grieves me as this mournful hour.”<br />\nCanto III. Virádha Attacked.<br />\n813<br />\nThus in his anguish cried the chief:<br />\nThen drowned in tears, o\'erwhelmed by grief,<br />\nThus Lakshmaṇ in his anger spake,<br />\nQuick panting like a spell-bound snake:<br />\n“Canst thou, my brother, Indra\'s peer,<br />\nWhen I thy minister am near,<br />\nThus grieve like some forsaken thing,<br />\nThou, every creature\'s lord and king?<br />\nMy vengeful shaft the fiend shall slay,<br />\nAnd earth shall drink his blood to-day.<br />\nThe fury which my soul at first<br />\nUpon usurping Bharat nursed,<br />\nOn this Virádha will I wreak<br />\nAs Indra splits the mountain peak.<br />\nWinged by this arm\'s impetuous might<br />\nMy shaft with deadly force<br />\nThe monster in the chest shall smite,<br />\nAnd fell his shattered corse.”<br />\nCanto III. Virádha Attacked.<br />\nVirádha with a fearful shout<br />\nThat echoed through the wood, cried out:<br />\n“What men are ye, I bid you say,<br />\nAnd whither would ye bend your way?”<br />\n814<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTo him whose mouth shot fiery flame<br />\nThe hero told his race and name:<br />\n“Two Warriors, nobly bred, are we,<br />\nAnd through this wood we wander free.<br />\nBut who art thou, how born and styled,<br />\nWho roamest here in Daṇḍak\'s wild?”<br />\nTo Ráma, bravest of the brave,<br />\nHis answer thus Virádha gave:<br />\n“Hear, Raghu\'s son, and mark me well,<br />\nAnd I my name and race will tell.<br />\nOf Śatahradá born, I spring<br />\nFrom Java as my sire, O King:<br />\nMe, of this lofty lineage, all<br />\nGiants on earth Virádha call.<br />\nThe rites austere I long maintained<br />\nFrom Brahmá\'s grace the boon have gained<br />\nTo bear a charmed frame which ne\'er<br />\nWeapon or shaft may pierce or tear.<br />\nGo as ye came, untouched by fear,<br />\nAnd leave with me this woman here:<br />\nGo, swiftly from my presence fly,<br />\nOr by this hand ye both shall die.”<br />\nThen Ráma with his fierce eyes red<br />\nWith fury to the giant said:<br />\n“Woe to thee, sinner, fond and weak,<br />\nWho madly thus thy death wilt seek!<br />\nStand, for it waits thee in the fray:<br />\nWith life thou ne\'er shalt flee away.”<br />\nCanto III. Virádha Attacked.<br />\n815<br />\nHe spoke, and raised the cord whereon<br />\nA pointed arrow flashed and shone,<br />\nThen, wild with anger, from his bow,<br />\nHe launched the weapon on the foe.<br />\nSeven times the fatal cord he drew,<br />\nAnd forth seven rapid arrows flew,<br />\nShafts winged with gold that left the wind<br />\nAnd e\'en Suparṇa\'s406self behind.<br />\nFull on the giant\'s breast they smote,<br />\nAnd purpled like the peacock\'s throat,<br />\nPassed through his mighty bulk and came<br />\nTo earth again like flakes of flame.<br />\nThe fiend the Maithil dame unclasped;<br />\nIn his fierce hand his spear he grasped,<br />\nAnd wild with rage, pierced through and through,<br />\nAt Ráma and his brother flew.<br />\nSo loud the roar which chilled with fear,<br />\nSo massy was the monster\'s spear,<br />\nHe seemed, like Indra\'s flagstaff, dread<br />\nAs the dark God who rules the dead.<br />\nOn huge Virádha fierce as He407<br />\nWho smites, and worlds have ceased to be,<br />\nThe princely brothers poured amain<br />\nTheir fiery flood of arrowy rain.<br />\nUnmoved he stood, and opening wide<br />\nHis dire mouth laughed unterrified,<br />\nAnd ever as the monster gaped<br />\nThose arrows from his jaws escaped.<br />\nPreserving still his life unharmed,<br />\nBy Brahmá\'s saving promise charmed,<br />\nHis mighty spear aloft in air<br />\nHe raised, and rushed upon the pair.<br />\n406The king of birds.<br />\n407Kálántakayamopamam, resembling Yáma the destroyer.<br />\n816<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nFrom Ráma\'s bow two arrows flew<br />\nAnd cleft that massive spear in two,<br />\n[232]<br />\nDire as the flaming levin sent<br />\nFrom out the cloudy firmament.<br />\nCut by the shafts he guided well<br />\nTo earth the giant\'s weapon fell:<br />\nAs when from Meru\'s summit, riven<br />\nBy fiery bolts, a rock is driven.<br />\nThen swift his sword each warrior drew,<br />\nLike a dread serpent black of hue,<br />\nAnd gathering fury for the blow<br />\nRushed fiercely on the giant foe.<br />\nAround each prince an arm he cast,<br />\nAnd held the dauntless heroes fast:<br />\nThen, though his gashes gaped and bled,<br />\nBearing the twain he turned and fled.<br />\nThen Ráma saw the giant\'s plan,<br />\nAnd to his brother thus began:<br />\n“O Lakshmaṇ, let Virádha still<br />\nHurry us onward as he will,<br />\nFor look, Sumitrá\'s son, he goes<br />\nAlong the path we freely chose.”<br />\nHe spoke: the rover of the night<br />\nUpraised them with terrific might,<br />\nTill, to his lofty shoulders swung,<br />\nLike children to his neck they clung.<br />\nThen sending far his fearful roar,<br />\nThe princes through the wood he bore,—<br />\nA wood like some vast cloud to view,<br />\nWhere birds of every plumage flew,<br />\nAnd mighty trees o\'erarching threw<br />\nDark shadows on the ground;<br />\nCanto IV. Virádha\'s Death.<br />\n817<br />\nWhere snakes and silvan creatures made<br />\nTheir dwelling, and the jackal strayed<br />\nThrough tangled brakes around.<br />\nCanto IV. Virádha\'s Death.<br />\nBut Sítá viewed with wild affright<br />\nThe heroes hurried from her sight.<br />\nShe tossed her shapely arms on high,<br />\nAnd shrieked aloud her bitter cry:<br />\n“Ah, the dread giant bears away<br />\nThe princely Ráma as his prey,<br />\nTruthful and pure, and good and great,<br />\nAnd Lakshmaṇ shares his brother\'s fate.<br />\nThe brindled tiger and the bear<br />\nMy mangled limbs for food will tear.<br />\nTake me, O best of giants, me,<br />\nAnd leave the sons of Raghu free.”<br />\n818<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThen, by avenging fury spurred,<br />\nHer mournful cry the heroes heard,<br />\nAnd hastened, for the lady\'s sake,<br />\nThe wicked monster\'s life to take.<br />\nThen Lakshmaṇ with resistless stroke<br />\nThe foe\'s left arm that held him broke,<br />\nAnd Ráma too, as swift to smite,<br />\nSmashed with his heavy hand the right.<br />\nWith broken arms and tortured frame<br />\nTo earth the fainting giant came,<br />\nLike a huge cloud, or mighty rock<br />\nRent, sundered by the levin\'s shock.<br />\nThen rushed they on, and crushed and beat<br />\nTheir foe with arms and fists and feet,<br />\nAnd nerved each mighty limb to pound<br />\nAnd bray him on the level ground.<br />\nKeen arrows and each biting blade<br />\nWide rents in breast and side had made;<br />\nBut crushed and torn and mangled, still<br />\nThe monster lived they could not kill.<br />\nWhen Ráma saw no arms might slay<br />\nThe fiend who like a mountain lay,<br />\nThe glorious hero, swift to save<br />\nIn danger, thus his counsel gave:<br />\n“O Prince of men, his charmed life<br />\nNo arms may take in battle strife:<br />\nNow dig we in this grove a pit<br />\nHis elephantine bulk to fit,<br />\nAnd let the hollowed earth enfold<br />\nThe monster of gigantic mould.”<br />\nThis said, the son of Raghu pressed<br />\nHis foot upon the giant\'s breast.<br />\nWith joy the prostrate monster heard<br />\nCanto IV. Virádha\'s Death.<br />\n819<br />\nVictorious Ráma\'s welcome word,<br />\nAnd straight Kakutstha\'s son, the best<br />\nOf men, in words like these addressed:<br />\n“I yield, O chieftain, overthrown<br />\nBy might that vies with Indra\'s own.<br />\nTill now my folly-blinded eyes<br />\nThee, hero, failed to recognize.<br />\nHappy Kauśalyá! blest to be<br />\nThe mother of a son like thee!<br />\nI know thee well, O chieftain, now:<br />\nRáma, the prince of men, art thou.<br />\nThere stands the high-born Maithil dame,<br />\nThere Lakshmaṇ, lord of mighty fame.<br />\nMy name was Tumburu,408for song<br />\nRenowned among the minstrel throng:<br />\nCursed by Kuvera\'s stern decree<br />\nI wear the hideous shape you see.<br />\nBut when I sued, his grace to crave,<br />\nThe glorious God this answer gave:<br />\n“When Ráma, Daśaratha\'s son,<br />\nDestroys thee and the fight is won,<br />\nThy proper shape once more assume,<br />\nAnd heaven again shall give thee room.”<br />\nWhen thus the angry God replied,<br />\nNo prayers could turn his wrath aside,<br />\nAnd thus on me his fury fell<br />\nFor loving Rambhá\'s409charms too well.<br />\nNow through thy favour am I freed<br />\nFrom the stern fate the God decreed,<br />\nAnd saved, O tamer of the foe,<br />\n[233]<br />\n408SomewhatinconsistentlywiththispartofthestoryTumburuismentionedin<br />\nBook II, Canto XII as one of the Gandharvas or heavenly minstrels summoned<br />\nto perform at Bharadvája\'s feast.<br />\n409Rambhá appears in Book I Canto LXIV as the temptress of Viśvámitra.<br />\n820<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBy thee, to heaven again shall go.<br />\nA league, O Prince, beyond this spot<br />\nStands holy Śarabhanga\'s cot:<br />\nThe very sun is not more bright<br />\nThan that most glorious anchorite:<br />\nTo him, O Ráma, quickly turn,<br />\nAnd blessings from the hermit earn.<br />\nFirst under earth my body throw,<br />\nThen on thy way rejoicing go.<br />\nSuch is the law ordained of old<br />\nFor giants when their days are told:<br />\nTheir bodies laid in earth, they rise<br />\nTo homes eternal in the skies.”<br />\nThus, by the rankling dart oppressed,<br />\nKakutstha\'s offspring he addressed:<br />\nIn earth his mighty body lay,<br />\nHis spirit fled to heaven away.<br />\nThus spake Virádha ere he died;<br />\nAnd Ráma to his brother cried:<br />\n“Now dig we in this grove a pit<br />\nHis elephantine bulk to fit.<br />\nAnd let the hollowed earth enfold<br />\nThis mighty giant fierce and bold.”<br />\nCanto IV. Virádha\'s Death.<br />\n821<br />\nThis said, the valiant hero put<br />\nUpon the giant\'s neck his foot.<br />\nHis spade obedient Lakshmaṇ plied,<br />\nAnd dug a pit both deep and wide<br />\nBy lofty souled Virádha\'s side.<br />\nThen Raghu\'s son his foot withdrew,<br />\nAnd down the mighty form they threw;<br />\nOne awful shout of joy he gave<br />\nAnd sank into the open grave.<br />\nThe heroes, to their purpose true,<br />\nIn fight the cruel demon slew,<br />\nAnd radiant with delight<br />\nDeep in the hollowed earth they cast<br />\nThe monster roaring to the last,<br />\nIn their resistless might.<br />\nThus when they saw the warrior\'s steel<br />\nNo life-destroying blow might deal,<br />\nThe pair, for lore renowned,<br />\nDeep in the pit their hands had made<br />\nThe unresisting giant laid,<br />\nAnd killed him neath the ground.<br />\nUpon himself the monster brought<br />\nFrom Ráma\'s hand the death he sought<br />\nWith strong desire to gain:<br />\nAnd thus the rover of the night<br />\nTold Ráma, as they strove in fight,<br />\nThat swords might rend and arrows smite<br />\nUpon his breast in vain.<br />\nThus Ráma, when his speech he heard,<br />\nThe giant\'s mighty form interred,<br />\nWhich mortal arms defied.<br />\nWith thundering crash the giant fell,<br />\nAnd rock and cave and forest dell<br />\nWith echoing roar replied.<br />\n822<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe princes, when their task was done<br />\nAnd freedom from the peril won,<br />\nRejoiced to see him die.<br />\nThen in the boundless wood they strayed,<br />\nLike the great sun and moon displayed<br />\nTriumphant in the sky.410<br />\nCanto V. Sarabhanga.<br />\nThen Ráma, having slain in fight<br />\nVirádha of terrific might,<br />\nWith gentle words his spouse consoled,<br />\nAnd clasped her in his loving hold.<br />\nThen to his brother nobly brave<br />\nThe valiant prince his counsel gave:<br />\n“Wild are these woods around us spread;<br />\nAnd hard and rough the ground to tread:<br />\nWe, O my brother, ne\'er have viewed<br />\nSo dark and drear a solitude:<br />\nTo Śarabhanga let us haste,<br />\nWhom wealth of holy works has graced.”<br />\n410The conclusion of this Canto is all a vain repetition: it is manifestly spurious<br />\nand a very feeble imitation of Válmíki\'s style. See Additional Notes.<br />\nCanto V. Sarabhanga.<br />\n823<br />\nThus Ráma spoke, and took the road<br />\nTo Śarabhanga\'s pure abode.<br />\nBut near that saint whose lustre vied<br />\nWith Gods, by penance purified,<br />\nWith startled eyes the prince beheld<br />\nA wondrous sight unparalleled.<br />\nIn splendour like the fire and sun<br />\nHe saw a great and glorious one.<br />\nUpon a noble car he rode,<br />\nAnd many a God behind him glowed:<br />\nAnd earth beneath his feet unpressed411<br />\nThe monarch of the skies confessed.<br />\nAblaze with gems, no dust might dim<br />\nThe bright attire that covered him.<br />\nArrayed like him, on every side<br />\nHigh saints their master glorified.<br />\nNear, borne in air, appeared in view<br />\nHis car which tawny coursers drew,<br />\nLike silver cloud, the moon, or sun<br />\nEre yet the day is well begun.<br />\nWreathed with gay garlands, o\'er his head<br />\nA pure white canopy was spread,<br />\nAnd lovely nymphs stood nigh to hold<br />\nFair chouris with their sticks of gold,<br />\nWhich, waving in each gentle hand,<br />\nThe forehead of their monarch fanned.<br />\nGod, saint, and bard, a radiant ring,<br />\nSang glory to their heavenly King:<br />\nForth into joyful lauds they burst<br />\nAs Indra with the sage conversed.<br />\nThen Ráma, when his wondering eyes<br />\nBeheld the monarch of the skies,<br />\n[234]<br />\n411“Even when he had alighted,” says the commentator: The feet of Gods do<br />\nnot touch the ground.<br />\n824<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTo Lakshmaṇ quickly called, and showed<br />\nThe car wherein Lord Indra rode:<br />\n“See, brother, see that air-borne car,<br />\nWhose wondrous glory shines afar:<br />\nWherefrom so bright a lustre streams<br />\nThat like a falling sun it seems:<br />\nThese are the steeds whose fame we know,<br />\nOf heavenly race through heaven they go:<br />\nThese are the steeds who bear the yoke<br />\nOf Śakra,412Him whom all invoke.<br />\nBehold these youths, a glorious band,<br />\nToward every wind a hundred stand:<br />\nA sword in each right hand is borne,<br />\nAnd rings of gold their arms adorn.<br />\nWhat might in every broad deep chest<br />\nAnd club-like arm is manifest!<br />\nClothed in attire of crimson hue<br />\nThey show like tigers fierce to view.<br />\nGreat chains of gold each warder deck,<br />\nGleaming like fire beneath his neck.<br />\nThe age of each fair youth appears<br />\nSome score and five of human years:<br />\nThe ever-blooming prime which they<br />\nWho live in heaven retain for aye:<br />\nSuch mien these lordly beings wear,<br />\nHeroic youths, most bright and fair.<br />\nNow, brother, in this spot, I pray,<br />\nWith the Videhan lady stay,<br />\nTill I have certain knowledge who<br />\nThis being is, so bright to view.”<br />\n412A name of Indra.<br />\nCanto V. Sarabhanga.<br />\n825<br />\nHe spoke, and turning from the spot<br />\nSought Śarabhanga\'s hermit cot.<br />\nBut when the lord of Śachí413saw<br />\nThe son of Raghu near him draw,<br />\nHe hastened of the sage to take<br />\nHis leave, and to his followers spake:<br />\n“See, Ráma bends his steps this way,<br />\nBut ere he yet a word can say,<br />\nCome, fly to our celestial sphere;<br />\nIt is not meet he see me here.<br />\nSoon victor and triumphant he<br />\nIn fitter time shall look on me.<br />\nBefore him still a great emprise,<br />\nA task too hard for others, lies.”<br />\nThen with all marks of honour high<br />\nThe Thunderer bade the saint good-bye,<br />\nAnd in his car which coursers drew<br />\nAway to heaven the conqueror flew.<br />\nThen Ráma, Lakshmaṇ, and the dame,<br />\nTo Śarabhanga nearer came,<br />\nWho sat beside the holy flame.<br />\nBefore the ancient sage they bent,<br />\nAnd clasped his feet most reverent;<br />\nThen at his invitation found<br />\nA seat beside him on the ground.<br />\nThen Ráma prayed the sage would deign<br />\nLord Indra\'s visit to explain;<br />\nAnd thus at length the holy man<br />\nIn answer to his prayer began:<br />\n413Śachí is the consort of Indra.<br />\n826<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“This Lord of boons has sought me here<br />\nTo waft me hence to Brahmá\'s sphere,<br />\nWon by my penance long and stern,—<br />\nA home the lawless ne\'er can earn.<br />\nBut when I knew that thou wast nigh,<br />\nTo Brahmá\'s world I could not fly<br />\nUntil these longing eyes were blest<br />\nWith seeing thee, mine honoured guest.<br />\nSince thou, O Prince, hast cheered my sight,<br />\nGreat-hearted lover of the right,<br />\nTo heavenly spheres will I repair<br />\nAnd bliss supreme that waits me there.<br />\nFor I have won, dear Prince, my way<br />\nTo those fair worlds which ne\'er decay,<br />\nCelestial seat of Brahmá\'s reign:<br />\nBe thine, with me, those worlds to gain.”<br />\nThen master of all sacred lore,<br />\nSpake Ráma to the saint once more:<br />\n“I, even I, illustrious sage,<br />\nWill make those worlds mine heritage:<br />\nBut now, I pray, some home assign<br />\nWithin this holy grove of thine.”<br />\nThus Ráma, Indra\'s peer in might,<br />\nAddressed the aged anchorite:<br />\nAnd he, with wisdom well endued,<br />\nTo Raghu\'s son his speech renewed:<br />\nCanto V. Sarabhanga.<br />\n827<br />\n“Sutíkshṇa\'s woodland home is near,<br />\nA glorious saint of life austere,<br />\nTrue to the path of duty; he<br />\nWith highest bliss will prosper thee.<br />\nAgainst the stream thy course must be<br />\nOf this fair brook Mandákiní,<br />\nWhereon light rafts like blossoms glide;<br />\nThen to his cottage turn aside.<br />\nThere lies thy path: but ere thou go,<br />\nLook on me, dear one, till I throw<br />\nAside this mould that girds me in,<br />\nAs casts the snake his withered skin.”<br />\nHe spoke, the fire in order laid<br />\nWith holy oil due offerings made,<br />\nAnd Śarabhanga, glorious sire,<br />\nLaid down his body in the fire.<br />\nThen rose the flame above his head,<br />\nOn skin, blood, flesh, and bones it fed,<br />\nTill forth, transformed, with radiant hue<br />\nOf tender youth, he rose anew,<br />\nFar-shining in his bright attire<br />\nCame Śarabhanga from the pyre:<br />\nAbove the home of saints, and those<br />\nWho feed the quenchless flame,414he rose:<br />\nBeyond the seat of Gods he passed,<br />\nAnd Brahmá\'s sphere was gained at last.<br />\n[235]<br />\nThe noblest of the twice-born race,<br />\nFor holy works supreme in place,<br />\nThe Mighty Father there beheld<br />\nGirt round by hosts unparalleled;<br />\n414The spheres or mansions gained by those who have duly performed the<br />\nsacrifices required of them. Different situations are assigned to these spheres,<br />\nsome placing them near the sun, others near the moon.<br />\n828<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd Brahmá joying at the sight<br />\nWelcomed the glorious anchorite.<br />\nCanto VI. Ráma\'s Promise.<br />\nWhen he his heavenly home had found,<br />\nThe holy men who dwelt around<br />\nTo Ráma flocked, whose martial fame<br />\nShone glorious as the kindled flame:<br />\nVaikhánasas415who love the wild,<br />\nPure hermits Bálakhilyas416styled,<br />\nGood Samprakshálas,417saints who live<br />\nOn rays which moon and daystar give:<br />\nThose who with leaves their lives sustain<br />\nAnd those who pound with stones their grain:<br />\nAnd they who lie in pools, and those<br />\nWhose corn, save teeth, no winnow knows:<br />\nThose who for beds the cold earth use,<br />\nAnd those who every couch refuse:<br />\nAnd those condemned to ceaseless pains,<br />\nWhose single foot their weight sustains:<br />\nAnd those who sleep neath open skies,<br />\nWhose food the wave or air supplies,<br />\nAnd hermits pure who spend their nights<br />\n415Hermits who live upon roots which they dig out of the earth: literally<br />\ndiggers, derived from the prefix vi and khan to dig.<br />\n416Generally, divine personages of the height of a man\'s thumb, produced<br />\nfrom Brahmá\'s hair: here, according to the commentator followed by Gorresio,<br />\nhermits who when they have obtained fresh food throw away what they had<br />\nlaid up before.<br />\n417Sprung from the washings of Vishṇuu\'s feet.<br />\nCanto VI. Ráma\'s Promise.<br />\n829<br />\nOn ground prepared for sacred rites;<br />\nThose who on hills their vigil hold,<br />\nOr dripping clothes around them fold:<br />\nThe devotees who live for prayer,<br />\nOr the five fires418unflinching bear.<br />\nOn contemplation all intent,<br />\nWith light that heavenly knowledge lent,<br />\nThey came to Ráma, saint and sage,<br />\nIn Śarabhanga\'s hermitage.<br />\nThe hermit crowd around him pressed,<br />\nAnd thus the virtuous chief addressed:<br />\n“The lordship of the earth is thine,<br />\nO Prince of old Ikshváku\'s line.<br />\nLord of the Gods is Indra, so<br />\nThou art our lord and guide below.<br />\nThy name, the glory of thy might,<br />\nThroughout the triple world are bright:<br />\nThy filial love so nobly shown,<br />\nThy truth and virtue well are known.<br />\nTo thee, O lord, for help we fly,<br />\nAnd on thy love of right rely:<br />\nWith kindly patience hear us speak,<br />\nAnd grant the boon we humbly seek.<br />\nThat lord of earth were most unjust,<br />\nFoul traitor to his solemn trust,<br />\nWho should a sixth of all419require,<br />\nNor guard his people like a sire.<br />\nBut he who ever watchful strives<br />\nTo guard his subjects\' wealth and lives,<br />\nDear as himself or, dearer still,<br />\nHis sons, with earnest heart and will,—<br />\nThat king, O Raghu\'s son, secures<br />\n418Four fires burning round them, and the sun above.<br />\n419The tax allowed to the king by the Laws of Manu.<br />\n830<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHigh fame that endless years endures,<br />\nAnd he to Brahmá\'s world shall rise,<br />\nMade glorious in the eternal skies.<br />\nWhate\'er, by duty won, the meed<br />\nOf saints whom roots and berries feed,<br />\nOne fourth thereof, for tender care<br />\nOf subjects, is the monarch\'s share.<br />\nThese, mostly of the Bráhman race,<br />\nWho make the wood their dwelling-place,<br />\nAlthough a friend in thee they view,<br />\nFall friendless neath the giant crew.<br />\nCome, Ráma, come, and see hard by<br />\nThe holy hermits\' corpses lie,<br />\nWhere many a tangled pathway shows<br />\nThe murderous work of cruel foes.<br />\nThese wicked fiends the hermits kill—<br />\nWho live on Chitrakúṭa\'s hill,<br />\nAnd blood of slaughtered saints has dyed<br />\nMandákiní and Pampá\'s side.<br />\nNo longer can we bear to see<br />\nThe death of saint and devotee<br />\nWhom through the forest day by day<br />\nThese Rákshasas unpitying slay.<br />\nTo thee, O Prince, we flee, and crave<br />\nThy guardian help our lives to save.<br />\nFrom these fierce rovers of the night<br />\nDefend each stricken anchorite.<br />\nThroughout the world \'twere vain to seek<br />\nAn arm like thine to aid the weak.<br />\nO Prince, we pray thee hear our call,<br />\nAnd from these fiends preserve us all.”<br />\nThe son of Raghu heard the plaint<br />\nOf penance-loving sage and saint,<br />\nCanto VII. Sutíkshna.<br />\n831<br />\nAnd the good prince his speech renewed<br />\nTo all the hermit multitude:<br />\n“To me, O saints, ye need not sue:<br />\nI wait the hests of all of you.<br />\nI by mine own occasion led<br />\nThis mighty forest needs must tread,<br />\n[236]<br />\nAnd while I keep my sire\'s decree<br />\nYour lives from threatening foes will free.<br />\nI hither came of free accord<br />\nTo lend the aid by you implored,<br />\nAnd richest meed my toil shall pay,<br />\nWhile here in forest shades I stay.<br />\nI long in battle strife to close.<br />\nAnd slay these fiends, the hermits\' foes,<br />\nThat saint and sage may learn aright<br />\nMy prowess and my brother\'s might.”<br />\nThus to the saints his promise gave<br />\nThat prince who still to virtue clave<br />\nWith never-wandering thought:<br />\nAnd then with Lakshmaṇ by his side,<br />\nWith penance-wealthy men to guide,<br />\nSutíkshṇa\'s home he sought.<br />\nCanto VII. Sutíkshna.<br />\n832<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nSo Raghu\'s son, his foemen\'s dread,<br />\nWith Sítá and his brother sped,<br />\nGirt round by many a twice-born sage,<br />\nTo good Sutíkshṇa\'s hermitage.420<br />\nThrough woods for many a league he passed,<br />\nO\'er rushing rivers full and fast,<br />\nUntil a mountain fair and bright<br />\nAs lofty Meru rose in sight.<br />\nWithin its belt of varied wood<br />\nIkshváku\'s sons and Sítá stood,<br />\nWhere trees of every foliage bore<br />\nBlossom and fruit in endless store.<br />\nThere coats of bark, like garlands strung,<br />\nBefore a lonely cottage hung,<br />\nAnd there a hermit, dust-besmeared,<br />\nA lotus on his breast, appeared.<br />\nThen Ráma with obeisance due<br />\nAddressed the sage, as near he drew:<br />\n“My name is Ráma, lord; I seek<br />\nThy presence, saint, with thee to speak.<br />\nO sage, whose merits ne\'er decay,<br />\nSome word unto thy servant say.”<br />\nThe sage his eyes on Ráma bent,<br />\nOf virtue\'s friends preëminent;<br />\nThen words like these he spoke, and pressed<br />\nThe son of Raghu to his breast:<br />\n“Welcome to thee, illustrious youth,<br />\nBest champion of the rights of truth!<br />\nBy thine approach this holy ground<br />\nA worthy lord this day has found.<br />\nI could not quit this mortal frame<br />\n420Near the celebrated Rámagiri or Ráma\'s Hill, now Rám-ṭek, near Nag-<br />\npore—the scene of the Yaksha\'s exile in the Messenger Cloud.<br />\nCanto VII. Sutíkshna.<br />\n833<br />\nTill thou shouldst come, O dear to fame:<br />\nTo heavenly spheres I would not rise,<br />\nExpecting thee with eager eyes.<br />\nI knew that thou, unkinged, hadst made<br />\nThy home in Chitrakúṭa\'s shade.<br />\nE\'en now, O Ráma, Indra, lord<br />\nSupreme by all the Gods adored,<br />\nKing of the Hundred Offerings,421said,<br />\nWhen he my dwelling visited,<br />\nThat the good works that I have done<br />\nMy choice of all the worlds have won.<br />\nAccept this meed of holy vows,<br />\nAnd with thy brother and thy spouse,<br />\nRoam, through my favour, in the sky<br />\nWhich saints celestial glorify.”<br />\nTo that bright sage, of penance stern,<br />\nThe high-souled Ráma spake in turn,<br />\nAs Vásava422who rules the skies<br />\nTo Brahmá\'s gracious speech replies:<br />\n“I of myself those worlds will win,<br />\nO mighty hermit pure from sin:<br />\nBut now, O saint, I pray thee tell<br />\nWhere I within this wood may dwell:<br />\nFor I by Śarabhanga old,<br />\nThe son of Gautama, was told<br />\nThat thou in every lore art wise,<br />\nAnd seest all with loving eyes.”<br />\n421A hundred Aśvamedhas or sacrifices of a horse raise the sacrificer to the<br />\ndignity of Indra.<br />\n422Indra.<br />\n834<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThus to the saint, whose glories high<br />\nFilled all the world, he made reply:<br />\nAnd thus again the holy man<br />\nHis pleasant speech with joy began:<br />\n“This calm retreat, O Prince, is blest<br />\nWith many a charm: here take thy rest.<br />\nHere roots and kindly fruits abound,<br />\nAnd hermits love the holy ground.<br />\nFair silvan beasts and gentle deer<br />\nIn herds unnumbered wander here:<br />\nAnd as they roam, secure from harm,<br />\nOur eyes with grace and beauty charm:<br />\nExcept the beasts in thickets bred,<br />\nThis grove of ours has naught to dread.”<br />\nThe hermit\'s speech when Ráma heard,—<br />\nThe hero ne\'er by terror stirred,—<br />\nOn his great bow his hand he laid,<br />\nAnd thus in turn his answer made:<br />\n“O saint, my darts of keenest steel,<br />\nArmed with their murderous barbs, would deal<br />\nDestruction mid the silvan race<br />\nThat flocks around thy dwelling-place.<br />\nMost wretched then my fate would be<br />\nFor such dishonour shown to thee:<br />\nAnd only for the briefest stay<br />\nWould I within this grove delay.”<br />\nHe spoke and ceased. With pious care<br />\nHe turned him to his evening prayer,<br />\nPerformed each customary rite,<br />\nAnd sought his lodging for the night,<br />\nWith Sítá and his brother laid<br />\n[237]<br />\nCanto VIII. The Hermitage.<br />\n835<br />\nBeneath the grove\'s delightful shade,<br />\nFirst good Sutíkshṇa, as elsewhere, when he saw<br />\nThe shades of night around them draw,<br />\nWith hospitable care<br />\nThe princely chieftains entertained<br />\nWith store of choicest food ordained<br />\nFor holy hermit\'s fare.<br />\nCanto VIII. The Hermitage.<br />\nSo Ráma and Sumitrá\'s son,<br />\nWhen every honour due was done,<br />\nSlept through the night. When morning broke,<br />\nThe heroes from their rest awoke.<br />\nBetimes the son of Raghu rose,<br />\nWith gentle Sítá, from repose,<br />\nAnd sipped the cool delicious wave<br />\nSweet with the scent the lotus gave,<br />\nThen to the Gods and sacred flame<br />\nThe heroes and the lady came,<br />\nAnd bent their heads in honour meet<br />\nWithin the hermit\'s pure retreat.<br />\nWhen every stain was purged away,<br />\nThey saw the rising Lord of Day:<br />\nThen to Sutíkshṇa\'s side they went,<br />\nAnd softly spoke, most reverent:<br />\n836<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“Well have we slept, O holy lord,<br />\nHonoured of thee by all adored:<br />\nNow leave to journey forth we pray:<br />\nThese hermits urge us on our way.<br />\nWe haste to visit, wandering by,<br />\nThe ascetics\' homes that round you lie,<br />\nAnd roaming Daṇḍak\'s mighty wood<br />\nTo view each saintly brotherhood,<br />\nFor thy permission now we sue,<br />\nWith these high saints to duty true,<br />\nBy penance taught each sense to tame,—<br />\nIn lustre like the smokeless flame.<br />\nEre on our brows the sun can beat<br />\nWith fierce intolerable heat.<br />\nLike some unworthy lord who wins<br />\nHis power by tyranny and sins,<br />\nO saint, we fain would part.” The three<br />\nBent humbly to the devotee.<br />\nHe raised the princes as they pressed<br />\nHis feet, and strained them to his breast;<br />\nAnd then the chief of devotees<br />\nBespake them both in words like these:<br />\n“Go with thy brother, Ráma, go,<br />\nPursue thy path untouched by woe:<br />\nGo with thy faithful Sítá, she<br />\nStill like a shadow follows thee.<br />\nRoam Daṇḍak wood observing well<br />\nThe pleasant homes where hermits dwell,—<br />\nPure saints whose ordered souls adhere<br />\nTo penance rites and vows austere.<br />\nThere plenteous roots and berries grow,<br />\nAnd noble trees their blossoms show,<br />\nAnd gentle deer and birds of air<br />\nIn peaceful troops are gathered there.<br />\nCanto VIII. The Hermitage.<br />\n837<br />\nThere see the full-blown lotus stud<br />\nThe bosom of the lucid flood,<br />\nAnd watch the joyous mallard shake<br />\nThe reeds that fringe the pool and lake.<br />\nSee with delighted eye the rill<br />\nLeap sparkling from her parent hill,<br />\nAnd hear the woods that round thee lie<br />\nReëcho to the peacock\'s cry.<br />\nAnd as I bid thy brother, so,<br />\nSumitrá\'s child, I bid thee go.<br />\nGo forth, these varied beauties see,<br />\nAnd then once more return to me.”<br />\nThus spake the sage Sutíkshṇa: both<br />\nThe chiefs assented, nothing loth,<br />\nRound him with circling steps they paced,<br />\nThen for the road prepared with haste.<br />\nThere Sítá stood, the dame long-eyed,<br />\nFair quivers round their waists she tied,<br />\nAnd gave each prince his trusty bow,<br />\nAnd sword which ne\'er a spot might know.<br />\nEach took his quiver from her hand.<br />\nAnd clanging bow and gleaming brand:<br />\nThen from the hermits\' home the two<br />\nWent forth each woodland scene to view.<br />\nEach beauteous in the bloom of age,<br />\nDismissed by that illustrious sage,<br />\nWith bow and sword accoutred, hied<br />\nAway, and Sítá by their side.<br />\n838<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nCanto IX. Sítá\'s Speech.<br />\nBlest by the sage, when Raghu\'s son<br />\nHis onward journey had begun,<br />\nThus in her soft tone Sítá, meek<br />\nWith modest fear, began to speak:<br />\n“One little slip the great may lead<br />\nTo shame that follows lawless deed:<br />\nSuch shame, my lord, as still must cling<br />\nTo faults from low desire that spring.<br />\nThree several sins defile the soul,<br />\nBorn of desire that spurns control:<br />\nFirst, utterance of a lying word,<br />\nThen, viler both, the next, and third:<br />\nThe lawless love of other\'s wife,<br />\nThe thirst of blood uncaused by strife.<br />\nThe first, O Raghu\'s son, in thee<br />\nNone yet has found, none e\'er shall see.<br />\nLove of another\'s dame destroys<br />\nAll merit, lost for guilty joys:<br />\nRáma, such crime in thee, I ween,<br />\nHas ne\'er been found, shall ne\'er be seen:<br />\nThe very thought, my princely lord,<br />\nIs in thy secret soul abhorred.<br />\n[238]<br />\nFor thou hast ever been the same<br />\nFond lover of thine own dear dame,<br />\nContent with faithful heart to do<br />\nThy father\'s will, most just and true:<br />\nJustice, and faith, and many a grace<br />\nIn thee have found a resting-place.<br />\nSuch virtues, Prince, the good may gain<br />\nWho empire o\'er each sense retain;<br />\nAnd well canst thou, with loving view<br />\nRegarding all, each sense subdue.<br />\nCanto IX. Sítá\'s Speech.<br />\n839<br />\nBut for the third, the lust that strives,<br />\nInsatiate still, for others\' lives,—<br />\nFond thirst of blood where hate is none,—<br />\nThis, O my lord, thou wilt not shun.<br />\nThou hast but now a promise made,<br />\nThe saints of Daṇḍak wood to aid:<br />\nAnd to protect their lives from ill<br />\nThe giants\' blood in tight wilt spill:<br />\nAnd from thy promise lasting fame<br />\nWill glorify the forest\'s name.<br />\nArmed with thy bow and arrows thou<br />\nForth with thy brother journeyest now,<br />\nWhile as I think how true thou art<br />\nFears for thy bliss assail my heart,<br />\nAnd all my spirit at the sight<br />\nIs troubled with a strange affright.<br />\nI like it not—it seems not good—<br />\nThy going thus to Daṇḍak wood:<br />\nAnd I, if thou wilt mark me well,<br />\nThe reason of my fear will tell.<br />\nThou with thy brother, bow in hand,<br />\nBeneath those ancient trees wilt stand,<br />\nAnd thy keen arrows will not spare<br />\nWood-rovers who will meet thee there.<br />\nFor as the fuel food supplies<br />\nThat bids the dormant flame arise,<br />\nThus when the warrior grasps his bow<br />\nHe feels his breast with ardour glow.<br />\nDeep in a holy grove, of yore,<br />\nWhere bird and beast from strife forbore,<br />\nŚuchi beneath the sheltering boughs,<br />\nA truthful hermit kept his vows.<br />\nThen Indra, Śachí\'s heavenly lord,<br />\nArmed like a warrior with a sword,<br />\n840<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nCame to his tranquil home to spoil<br />\nThe hermit of his holy toil,<br />\nAnd left the glorious weapon there<br />\nEntrusted to the hermit\'s care,<br />\nA pledge for him to keep, whose mind<br />\nTo fervent zeal was all resigned.<br />\nHe took the brand: with utmost heed<br />\nHe kept it for the warrior\'s need:<br />\nTo keep his trust he fondly strove<br />\nWhen roaming in the neighbouring grove:<br />\nWhene\'er for roots and fruit he strayed<br />\nStill by his side he bore the blade:<br />\nStill on his sacred charge intent,<br />\nHe took his treasure when he went.<br />\nAs day by day that brand he wore,<br />\nThe hermit, rich in merit\'s store<br />\nFrom penance rites each thought withdrew,<br />\nAnd fierce and wild his spirit grew.<br />\nWith heedless soul he spurned the right,<br />\nAnd found in cruel deeds delight.<br />\nSo, living with the sword, he fell,<br />\nA ruined hermit, down to hell.<br />\nThis tale applies to those who deal<br />\nToo closely with the warrior\'s steel:<br />\nThe steel to warriors is the same<br />\nAs fuel to the smouldering flame.<br />\nSincere affection prompts my speech:<br />\nI honour where I fain would teach.<br />\nMayst thou, thus armed with shaft and bow,<br />\nSo dire a longing never know<br />\nAs, when no hatred prompts the fray,<br />\nThese giants of the wood to slay:<br />\nFor he who kills without offence<br />\nShall win but little glory thence.<br />\nCanto IX. Sítá\'s Speech.<br />\n841<br />\nThe bow the warrior joys to bend<br />\nIs lent him for a nobler end,<br />\nThat he may save and succour those<br />\nWho watch in woods when pressed by foes.<br />\nWhat, matched with woods, is bow or steel?<br />\nWhat, warrior\'s arm with hermit\'s zeal?<br />\nWe with such might have naught to do:<br />\nThe forest rule should guide us too.<br />\nBut when Ayodhyá hails thee lord,<br />\nBe then thy warrior life restored:<br />\nSo shall thy sire423and mother joy<br />\nIn bliss that naught may e\'er destroy.<br />\nAnd if, resigning empire, thou<br />\nSubmit thee to the hermit\'s vow,<br />\nThe noblest gain from virtue springs,<br />\nAnd virtue joy unending brings.<br />\nAll earthly blessings virtue sends:<br />\nOn virtue all the world depends.<br />\nThose who with vow and fasting tame<br />\nTo due restraint the mind and frame,<br />\nWin by their labour, nobly wise,<br />\nThe highest virtue for their prize.<br />\nPure in the hermit\'s grove remain,<br />\nTrue to thy duty, free from stain.<br />\nBut the three worlds are open thrown<br />\nTo thee, by whom all things are known.<br />\nWho gave me power that I should dare<br />\nHis duty to my lord declare?<br />\n\'Tis woman\'s fancy, light as air,<br />\nThat moves my foolish breast.<br />\n423Gorresio observes that Daśaratha was dead and that Sítá had been informed<br />\nof his death. In his translation he substitutes for the words of the text “thy<br />\nrelations and mine.” This is quite superfluous. Daśaratha though in heaven still<br />\ntook a loving interest in the fortunes of his son.<br />\n842<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nNow with thy brother counsel take,<br />\nReflect, thy choice with judgment make,<br />\nAnd do what seems the best.”<br />\n[239]<br />\nCanto X. Ráma\'s Reply.<br />\nThe words that Sítá uttered, spurred<br />\nBy truest love, the hero heard:<br />\nThen he who ne\'er from virtue strayed<br />\nTo Janak\'s child his answer made:<br />\n“In thy wise speech, sweet love, I find<br />\nTrue impress of thy gentle mind,<br />\nWell skilled the warrior\'s path to trace,<br />\nThou pride of Janak\'s ancient race.<br />\nWhat fitting answer shall I frame<br />\nTo thy good words, my honoured dame?<br />\nThou sayst the warrior bears the bow<br />\nThat misery\'s tears may cease to flow;<br />\nAnd those pure saints who love the shade<br />\nOf Daṇḍak wood are sore dismayed.<br />\nThey sought me of their own accord,<br />\nWith suppliant prayers my aid implored:<br />\nThey, fed on roots and fruit, who spend<br />\nTheir lives where bosky wilds extend,<br />\nMy timid love, enjoy no rest<br />\nBy these malignant fiends distressed.<br />\nThese make the flesh of man their meat:<br />\nThe helpless saints they kill and eat.<br />\nThe hermits sought my side, the chief<br />\nCanto X. Ráma\'s Reply.<br />\n843<br />\nOf Bráhman race declared their grief.<br />\nI heard, and from my lips there fell<br />\nThe words which thou rememberest well:<br />\nI listened as the hermits cried,<br />\nAnd to their prayers I thus replied:<br />\n“Your favour, gracious lords, I claim,<br />\nO\'erwhelmed with this enormous shame<br />\nThat Bráhmans, great and pure as you,<br />\nWho should be sought, to me should sue.”<br />\nAnd then before the saintly crowd,<br />\n“What can I do?” I cried aloud.<br />\nThen from the trembling hermits broke<br />\nOne long sad cry, and thus they spoke:<br />\n“Fiends of the wood, who wear at will<br />\nEach varied shape, afflict us still.<br />\nTo thee in our distress we fly:<br />\nO help us, Ráma, or we die.<br />\nWhen sacred rites of fire are due,<br />\nWhen changing moons are full or new,<br />\nThese fiends who bleeding flesh devour<br />\nAssail us with resistless power.<br />\nThey with their cruel might torment<br />\nThe hermits on their vows intent:<br />\nWe look around for help and see<br />\nOur surest refuge, Prince, in thee.<br />\nWe, armed with powers of penance, might<br />\nDestroy the rovers of the night:<br />\nBut loth were we to bring to naught<br />\nThe merit years of toil have bought.<br />\nOur penance rites are grown too hard,<br />\nBy many a check and trouble barred,<br />\nBut though our saints for food are slain<br />\nThe withering curse we yet restrain.<br />\n844<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThus many a weary day distressed<br />\nBy giants who this wood infest,<br />\nWe see at length deliverance, thou<br />\nWith Lakshmaṇ art our guardian now.”<br />\nAs thus the troubled hermits prayed,<br />\nI promised, dame, my ready aid,<br />\nAnd now—for truth I hold most dear—<br />\nStill to my word must I adhere.<br />\nMy love, I might endure to be<br />\nDeprived of Lakshmaṇ, life, and thee,<br />\nBut ne\'er deny my promise, ne\'er<br />\nTo Bráhmans break the oath I sware.<br />\nI must, enforced by high constraint,<br />\nProtect them all. Each suffering saint<br />\nIn me, unasked, his help had found;<br />\nStill more in one by promise bound.<br />\nI know thy words, mine own dear dame,<br />\nFrom thy sweet heart\'s affection came:<br />\nI thank thee for thy gentle speech,<br />\nFor those we love are those we teach.<br />\n\'Tis like thyself, O fair of face,<br />\n\'Tis worthy of thy noble race:<br />\nDearer than life, thy feet are set<br />\nIn righteous paths they ne\'er forget.”<br />\nThus to the Maithil monarch\'s child,<br />\nHis own dear wife, in accents mild<br />\nThe high-souled hero said:<br />\nThen to the holy groves which lay<br />\nBeyond them fair to see, their way<br />\nThe bow-armed chieftain led.<br />\nCanto XI. Agastya.<br />\n845<br />\nCanto XI. Agastya.<br />\nRáma went foremost of the three,<br />\nNext Sítá, followed, fair to see,<br />\nAnd Lakshmaṇ with his bow in hand<br />\nWalked hindmost of the little band.<br />\nAs onward through the wood they went,<br />\nWith great delight their eyes were bent<br />\nOn rocky heights beside the way<br />\nAnd lofty trees with blossoms gay;<br />\nAnd streamlets running fair and fast<br />\nThe royal youths with Sítá passed.<br />\nThey watched the sáras and the drake<br />\nOn islets of the stream and lake,<br />\nAnd gazed delighted on the floods<br />\nBright with gay birds and lotus buds.<br />\nThey saw in startled herds the roes,<br />\nThe passion-frenzied buffaloes,<br />\nWild elephants who fiercely tore<br />\nThe tender trees, and many a boar.<br />\nA length of woodland way they passed,<br />\nAnd when the sun was low at last<br />\nA lovely stream-fed lake they spied,<br />\nTwo leagues across from side to side.<br />\nTall elephants fresh beauty gave<br />\nTo grassy bank and lilied wave,<br />\n[240]<br />\nBy many a swan and sáras stirred,<br />\nMallard, and gay-winged water-bird.<br />\nFrom those sweet waters, loud and long,<br />\nThough none was seen to wake the song,<br />\nSwelled high the singer\'s music blent<br />\nWith each melodious instrument.<br />\nRáma and car-borne Lakshmaṇ heard<br />\nThe charming strain, with wonder stirred,<br />\n846<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTurned on the margent of the lake<br />\nTo Dharmabhrit424the sage, and spake:<br />\n“Our longing souls, O hermit, burn<br />\nThis music of the lake to learn:<br />\nWe pray thee, noblest sage, explain<br />\nThe cause of the mysterious strain.”<br />\nHe, as the son of Raghu prayed,<br />\nWith swift accord his answer made,<br />\nAnd thus the hermit, virtuous-souled,<br />\nThe story of the fair lake told:<br />\n“Through every age \'tis known to fame,<br />\nPanchápsaras425its glorious name,<br />\nBy holy Máṇḍakarṇi wrought<br />\nWith power his rites austere had bought.<br />\nFor he, great votarist, intent<br />\nOn strictest rule his stern life spent.<br />\nTen thousand years the stream his bed,<br />\nTen thousand years on air he fed.<br />\nThen on the blessed Gods who dwell<br />\nIn heavenly homes great terror fell:<br />\nThey gathered all, by Agni led,<br />\nAnd counselled thus disquieted:<br />\n“The hermit by ascetic pain<br />\nThe seat of one of us would gain.”<br />\nThus with their hearts by fear oppressed<br />\nIn full assembly spoke the Blest,<br />\nAnd bade five loveliest nymphs, as fair<br />\nAs lightning in the evening air,<br />\nArmed with their winning wiles, seduce<br />\nFrom his stern vows the great recluse.<br />\n424One of the hermits who had followed Ráma.<br />\n425The lake of the five nymphs.<br />\nCanto XI. Agastya.<br />\n847<br />\nThough lore of earth and heaven he knew,<br />\nThe hermit from his task they drew,<br />\nAnd made the great ascetic slave<br />\nTo conquering love, the Gods to save.<br />\nEach of the heavenly five became,<br />\nBound to the sage, his wedded dame;<br />\nAnd he, for his beloved\'s sake,<br />\nFormed a fair palace neath the lake.<br />\nUnder the flood the ladies live,<br />\nTo joy and ease their days they give,<br />\nAnd lap in bliss the hermit wooed<br />\nFrom penance rites to youth renewed.<br />\nSo when the sportive nymphs within<br />\nThose secret bowers their play begin,<br />\nYou hear the singers\' dulcet tones<br />\nBlend sweetly with their tinkling zones.”<br />\n“How wondrous are these words of thine!”<br />\nCried the famed chiefs of Raghu\'s line,<br />\nAs thus they heard the sage unfold<br />\nThe marvels of the tale he told.<br />\nAs Ráma spake, his eyes were bent<br />\nUpon a hermit settlement<br />\nWith light of heavenly lore endued,<br />\nWith sacred grass and vesture strewed.<br />\nHis wife and brother by his side,<br />\nWithin the holy bounds he hied,<br />\nAnd there, with honour entertained<br />\nBy all the saints, a while remained.<br />\nIn time, by due succession led,<br />\nEach votary\'s cot he visited,<br />\nAnd then the lord of martial lore,<br />\nReturned where he had lodged before.<br />\n848<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHere for the months, content, he stayed,<br />\nThere for a year his visit paid:<br />\nHere for four months his home would fix,<br />\nThere, as it chanced, for five or six.<br />\nHere for eight months and there for three<br />\nThe son of Raghu\'s stay would be:<br />\nHere weeks, there fortnights, more or less,<br />\nHe spent in tranquil happiness.<br />\nAs there the hero dwelt at ease<br />\nAmong those holy devotees,<br />\nIn days untroubled o\'er his head<br />\nTen circling years of pleasure fled.<br />\nSo Raghu\'s son in duty trained<br />\nA while in every cot remained,<br />\nThen with his dame retraced the road<br />\nTo good Sutíkshṇa\'s calm abode.<br />\nHailed by the saints with honours due<br />\nNear to the hermit\'s home he drew,<br />\nAnd there the tamer of his foes<br />\nDwelt for a time in sweet repose.<br />\nOne day within that holy wood<br />\nBy saint Sutíkshṇa Ráma stood,<br />\nAnd thus the prince with reverence meek<br />\nTo that high sage began to speak:<br />\n“In the wide woodlands that extend<br />\nAround us, lord most reverend,<br />\nAs frequent voice of rumour tells,<br />\nAgastya, saintliest hermit, dwells.<br />\nSo vast the wood, I cannot trace<br />\nThe path to reach his dwelling place,<br />\nNor, searching unassisted, find<br />\nThat hermit of the thoughtful mind.<br />\nI with my wife and brother fain<br />\nCanto XI. Agastya.<br />\n849<br />\nWould go, his favour to obtain,<br />\nWould seek him in his lone retreat<br />\nAnd the great saint with reverence greet.<br />\nThis one desire, O Master, long<br />\nCherished within my heart, is strong,<br />\nThat I may pay of free accord<br />\nMy duty to that hermit lord.”<br />\nAs thus the prince whose heart was bent<br />\nOn virtue told his firm intent,<br />\nThe good Sutíkshṇa\'s joy rose high,<br />\nAnd thus in turn he made reply:<br />\n“The very thing, O Prince, which thou<br />\nHast sought, I wished to urge but now,<br />\nBid thee with wife and brother see<br />\n[241]<br />\nAgastya, glorious devotee.<br />\nI count this thing an omen fair<br />\nThat thou shouldst thus thy wish declare,<br />\nAnd I, my Prince, will gladly teach<br />\nThe way Agastya\'s home to reach.<br />\nSouthward, dear son, direct thy feet<br />\nEight leagues beyond this still retreat:<br />\nAgastya\'s hermit brother there<br />\nDwells in a home most bright and fair.<br />\n\'Tis on a knoll of woody ground,<br />\nWith many a branching Pippal426crowned:<br />\nThere sweet birds\' voices ne\'er are mute,<br />\nAnd trees are gay with flower and fruit.<br />\nThere many a lake gleams bright and cool,<br />\nAnd lilies deck each pleasant pool,<br />\nWhile swan, and crane, and mallard\'s wings<br />\nAre lovely in the water-springs.<br />\nThere for one night, O Ráma, stay,<br />\n426The holy fig-tree.<br />\n850<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd with the dawn pursue thy way.<br />\nStill farther, bending southward, by<br />\nThe thicket\'s edge the course must lie,<br />\nAnd thou wilt see, two leagues from thence<br />\nAgastya\'s lovely residence,<br />\nSet in the woodland\'s fairest spot,<br />\nAll varied foliage decks the cot:<br />\nThere Sítá, Lakshmaṇ thou, at ease<br />\nMay spend sweet hours neath shady trees,<br />\nFor all of noblest growth are found<br />\nLuxuriant on that bosky ground.<br />\nIf it be still thy firm intent<br />\nTo see that saint preëminent,<br />\nO mighty counsellor, this day<br />\nDepart upon thine onward way.”<br />\nThe hermit spake, and Ráma bent<br />\nHis head, with Lakshmaṇ, reverent,<br />\nAnd then with him and Janak\'s child<br />\nSet out to trace the forest wild.<br />\nHe saw dark woods that fringed the road,<br />\nAnd distant hills like clouds that showed,<br />\nAnd, as the way he followed, met<br />\nWith many a lake and rivulet.<br />\nSo passing on with ease where led<br />\nThe path Sutíkshṇa bade him tread,<br />\nThe hero with exulting breast<br />\nHis brother in these words addressed:<br />\n“Here, surely, is the home, in sight,<br />\nOf that illustrious anchorite:<br />\nHere great Agastya\'s brother leads<br />\nA life intent on holy deeds.<br />\nWarned of each guiding mark and sign,<br />\nCanto XI. Agastya.<br />\n851<br />\nI see them all herein combine:<br />\nI see the branches bending low<br />\nBeneath the flowers and fruit they show.<br />\nA soft air from the forest springs,<br />\nFresh from the odorous grass, and brings<br />\nA spicy fragrance as it flees<br />\nO\'er the ripe fruit of Pippal trees.<br />\nSee, here and there around us high<br />\nPiled up in heaps cleft billets lie,<br />\nAnd holy grass is gathered, bright<br />\nAs strips of shining lazulite.<br />\nFull in the centre of the shade<br />\nThe hermits\' holy fire is laid:<br />\nI see its smoke the pure heaven streak<br />\nDense as a big cloud\'s dusky peak.<br />\nThe twice-born men their steps retrace<br />\nFrom each sequestered bathing-place,<br />\nAnd each his sacred gift has brought<br />\nOf blossoms which his hands have sought.<br />\nOf all these signs, dear brother, each<br />\nAgrees with good Sutíkshṇa\'s speech,<br />\nAnd doubtless in this holy bound<br />\nAgastya\'s brother will be found.<br />\nAgastya once, the worlds who viewed<br />\nWith love, a Deathlike fiend subdued,<br />\nAnd armed with mighty power, obtained<br />\nBy holy works, this grove ordained<br />\nTo be a refuge and defence<br />\nFrom all oppressors\' violence.<br />\nIn days of yore within this place<br />\nTwo brothers fierce of demon race,<br />\nVátápi dire and Ilval, dwelt,<br />\nAnd slaughter mid the Bráhmans dealt.<br />\nA Bráhman\'s form, the fiend to cloak,<br />\n852<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nFierce Ilval wore, and Sanskrit spoke,<br />\nAnd twice-born sages would invite<br />\nTo solemnize some funeral rite.<br />\nHis brother\'s flesh, concealed within<br />\nA ram\'s false shape and borrowed skin,—<br />\nAs men are wont at funeral feasts,—<br />\nHe dressed and fed those gathered priests.<br />\nThe holy men, unweeting ill,<br />\nTook of the food and ate their fill.<br />\nThen Ilval with a mighty shout<br />\nExclaimed “Vátápi, issue out.”<br />\nSoon as his brother\'s voice he heard,<br />\nThe fiend with ram-like bleating stirred:<br />\nRending in pieces every frame,<br />\nForth from the dying priests he came.<br />\nSo they who changed their forms at will<br />\nThousands of Bráhmans dared to kill,—<br />\nFierce fiends who loved each cruel deed,<br />\nAnd joyed on bleeding flesh to feed.<br />\nAgastya, mighty hermit, pressed<br />\nTo funeral banquet like the rest,<br />\nObedient to the Gods\' appeal<br />\nAte up the monster at a meal.<br />\n“\'Tis done, \'tis done,” fierce Ilval cried,<br />\nAnd water for his hands supplied:<br />\nThen lifting up his voice he spake:<br />\n“Forth, brother, from thy prison break.”<br />\nThen him who called the fiend, who long<br />\nHad wrought the suffering Bráhmans wrong,<br />\nThus thoughtful-souled Agastya, best<br />\nOf hermits, with a smile addressed:<br />\n“How, Rákshas, is the fiend empowered<br />\nTo issue forth whom I devoured?<br />\nThy brother in a ram\'s disguise<br />\nCanto XI. Agastya.<br />\n853<br />\nIs gone where Yáma\'s kingdom lies.”<br />\n[242]<br />\nWhen from the words Agastya said<br />\nHe knew his brother fiend was dead,<br />\nHis soul on fire with vengeful rage,<br />\nRushed the night-rover at the sage.<br />\nOne lightning glance of fury, hot<br />\nAs fire, the glorious hermit shot,<br />\nAs the fiend neared him in his stride,<br />\nAnd straight, consumed to dust, he died.<br />\nIn pity for the Bráhmans\' plight<br />\nAgastya wrought this deed of might:<br />\nThis grove which lakes and fair trees grace<br />\nIn his great brother\'s dwelling place.”<br />\nAs Ráma thus the tale rehearsed,<br />\nAnd with Sumitrá\'s son conversed,<br />\nThe setting sun his last rays shed,<br />\nAnd evening o\'er the land was spread.<br />\nA while the princely brothers stayed<br />\nAnd even rites in order paid,<br />\nThen to the holy grove they drew<br />\nAnd hailed the saint with honour due.<br />\nWith courtesy was Ráma met<br />\nBy that illustrious anchoret,<br />\nAnd for one night he rested there<br />\nRegaled with fruit and hermit fare.<br />\nBut when the night had reached its close,<br />\nAnd the sun\'s glorious circle rose,<br />\nThe son of Raghu left his bed<br />\nAnd to the hermit\'s brother said:<br />\n“Well rested in thy hermit cell,<br />\nI stand, O saint, to bid farewell;<br />\nFor with thy leave I journey hence<br />\nThy brother saint to reverence.”<br />\n854<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“Go, Ráma go,” the sage replied:<br />\nThen from the cot the chieftain hied.<br />\nAnd while the pleasant grove he viewed,<br />\nThe path the hermit showed, pursued.<br />\nOf every leaf, of changing hue.<br />\nPlants, trees by hundreds round him grew,<br />\nWith joyous eyes he looked on all,<br />\nThen Jak,427the wild rice, and Sál;428<br />\nHe saw the red Hibiscus glow,<br />\nHe saw the flower-tipped creeper throw<br />\nThe glory of her clusters o\'er<br />\nTall trees that loads of blossom bore.<br />\nSome, elephants had prostrate laid,<br />\nIn some the monkeys leapt and played,<br />\nAnd through the whole wide forest rang<br />\nThe charm of gay birds as they sang.<br />\nThen Ráma of the lotus eye<br />\nTo Lakshmaṇ turned who followed nigh,<br />\nAnd thus the hero youth impressed<br />\nWith Fortune\'s favouring signs, addressed:<br />\n“How soft the leaves of every tree,<br />\nHow tame each bird and beast we see!<br />\nSoon the fair home shall we behold<br />\nOf that great hermit tranquil-souled.<br />\nThe deed the good Agastya wrought<br />\nHigh fame throughout the world has bought:<br />\nI see, I see his calm retreat<br />\nThat balms the pain of weary feet.<br />\nWhere white clouds rise from flames beneath,<br />\nWhere bark-coats lie with many a wreath,<br />\nWhere silvan things, made gentle, throng,<br />\n427The bread-fruit tree, Artocarpus integrifolia.<br />\n428A fine timber tree, Shorea robusta.<br />\nCanto XI. Agastya.<br />\n855<br />\nAnd every bird is loud in song.<br />\nWith ruth for suffering creatures filled,<br />\nA deathlike fiend with might he killed,<br />\nAnd gave this southern realm to be<br />\nA refuge, from oppression free.<br />\nThere stands his home, whose dreaded might<br />\nHas put the giant crew to flight,<br />\nWho view with envious eyes afar<br />\nThe peaceful shades they cannot mar.<br />\nSince that most holy saint has made<br />\nHis dwelling in this lovely shade,<br />\nChecked by his might the giant brood<br />\nHave dwelt in peace with souls subdued.<br />\nAnd all this southern realm, within<br />\nWhose bounds no fiend may entrance win,<br />\nNow bears a name which naught may dim,<br />\nMade glorious through the worlds by him.<br />\nWhen Vindhya, best of hills, would stay<br />\nThe journey of the Lord of Day,<br />\nObedient to the saint\'s behest<br />\nHe bowed for aye his humbled crest.<br />\nThat hoary hermit, world-renowned<br />\nFor holy deeds, within this ground<br />\nHas set his pure and blessed home,<br />\nWhere gentle silvan creatures roam.<br />\nAgastya, whom the worlds revere,<br />\nPure saint to whom the good are dear,<br />\nTo us his guests all grace will show,<br />\nEnriched with blessings ere we go.<br />\nI to this aim each thought will turn,<br />\nThe favour of the saint to earn,<br />\nThat here in comfort may be spent<br />\nThe last years of our banishment.<br />\nHere sanctities and high saints stand,<br />\n856<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nGods, minstrels of the heavenly band;<br />\nUpon Agastya\'s will they wait,<br />\nAnd serve him, pure and temperate.<br />\nThe liar\'s tongue, the tyrant\'s mind<br />\nWithin these bounds no home may find:<br />\nNo cheat, no sinner here can be:<br />\nSo holy and so good is he.<br />\nHere birds and lords of serpent race,<br />\nSpirits and Gods who haunt the place,<br />\nContent with scanty fare remain,<br />\nAs merit\'s meed they strive to gain.<br />\nMade perfect here, the saints supreme,<br />\nOn cars that mock the Day-God\'s gleam,—<br />\nTheir mortal bodies cast aside,—<br />\nSought heaven transformed and glorified,<br />\nHere Gods to living things, who win<br />\nTheir favour, pure from cruel sin,<br />\nGive royal rule and many a good,<br />\n[243]<br />\nImmortal life and spirithood.<br />\nNow, Lakshmaṇ, we are near the place:<br />\nDo thou precede a little space,<br />\nAnd tell the mighty saint that I<br />\nWith Sítá at my side am nigh.”<br />\nCanto XII. The Heavenly Bow.<br />\nHe spoke: the younger prince obeyed:<br />\nWithin the bounds his way he made,<br />\nAnd thus addressed, whom first he met,<br />\nA pupil of the anchoret:<br />\nCanto XII. The Heavenly Bow.<br />\n857<br />\n“Brave Ráma, eldest born, who springs,<br />\nFrom Daśaratha, hither brings<br />\nHis wife the lady Sítá: he<br />\nWould fain the holy hermit see.<br />\nLakshmaṇ am I—if happy fame<br />\nE\'er to thine ears has brought the name—<br />\nHis younger brother, prompt to do<br />\nHis will, devoted, fond, and true.<br />\nWe, through our royal sire\'s decree,<br />\nTo the dread woods were forced to flee.<br />\nTell the great Master, I entreat,<br />\nOur earnest wish our lord to greet.”<br />\nHe spoke: the hermit rich in store<br />\nOf fervid zeal and sacred lore,<br />\nSought the pure shrine which held the fire,<br />\nTo bear his message to the sire.<br />\nSoon as he reached the saint most bright<br />\nIn sanctity\'s surpassing might,<br />\nHe cried, uplifting reverent hands:<br />\n“Lord Ráma near thy cottage stands.”<br />\nThen spoke Agastya\'s pupil dear<br />\nThe message for his lord to hear:<br />\n“Ráma and Lakshmaṇ, chiefs who spring<br />\nFrom Daśaratha, glorious king,<br />\nThy hermitage e\'en now have sought,<br />\nAnd lady Sítá with them brought.<br />\nThe tamers of the foe are here<br />\nTo see thee, Master, and revere.<br />\n\'Tis thine thy further will to say:<br />\nDeign to command, and we obey.”<br />\n858<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWhen from his pupil\'s lips he knew<br />\nThe presence of the princely two,<br />\nAnd Sítá born to fortune high.<br />\nThe glorious hermit made reply:<br />\n“Great joy at last is mine this day<br />\nThat Ráma hither finds his way,<br />\nFor long my soul has yearned to see<br />\nThe prince who comes to visit me.<br />\nGo forth, go forth, and hither bring<br />\nThe royal three with welcoming:<br />\nLead Ráma in and place him near:<br />\nWhy stands he not already here?”<br />\nThus ordered by the hermit, who,<br />\nLord of his thought, all duty knew,<br />\nHis reverent hands together laid,<br />\nThe pupil answered and obeyed.<br />\nForth from the place with speed he ran,<br />\nTo Lakshmaṇ came and thus began:<br />\n“Where is he? let not Ráma wait,<br />\nBut speed, the sage to venerate.”<br />\nThen with the pupil Lakshmaṇ went<br />\nAcross the hermit settlement,<br />\nAnd showed him Ráma where he stood<br />\nWith Janak\'s daughter in the wood.<br />\nThe pupil then his message spake<br />\nWhich the kind hermit bade him take;<br />\nThen led the honoured Ráma thence<br />\nAnd brought him in with reverence.<br />\nAs nigh the royal Ráma came<br />\nWith Lakshmaṇ and the Maithil dame,<br />\nHe viewed the herds of gentle deer<br />\nRoaming the garden free from fear.<br />\nCanto XII. The Heavenly Bow.<br />\n859<br />\nAs through the sacred grove he trod<br />\nHe viewed the seat of many a God,<br />\nBrahmá and Agni,429Sun and Moon,<br />\nAnd His who sends each golden boon;430<br />\nHere Vishṇu\'s stood, there Bhaga\'s431shrine,<br />\nAnd there Mahendra\'s, Lord divine;<br />\nHere His who formed this earthly frame,432<br />\nHis there from whom all beings came.433<br />\nVáyu\'s,434and His who loves to hold<br />\nThe great noose, Varuṇ435mighty-souled:<br />\nHere was the Vasus\'436shrine to see,<br />\nHere that of sacred Gáyatrí,437<br />\nThe king of serpents438here had place,<br />\nAnd he who rules the feathered race.439<br />\nHere Kártikeya,440warrior lord,<br />\nAnd there was Justice King adored.<br />\nThen with disciples girt about<br />\nThe mighty saint himself came out:<br />\nThrough fierce devotion bright as flame<br />\nBefore the rest the Master came:<br />\nAnd then to Lakshmaṇ, fortune blest,<br />\nRáma these hasty words addressed:<br />\n“Behold, Agastya\'s self draws near,<br />\n429The God of fire.<br />\n430Kuvera, the God of riches.<br />\n431The Sun.<br />\n432Brahmá, the creator.<br />\n433Śiva.<br />\n434The Wind-God.<br />\n435The God of the sea.<br />\n436A class of demi-gods, eight in number.<br />\n437The holiest text of the Vedas, deified.<br />\n438Vásuki.<br />\n439Garuḍ.<br />\n440The War-God.<br />\n860<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe mighty saint, whom all revere:<br />\nWith spirit raised I meet my lord<br />\nWith richest wealth of penance stored.”<br />\nThe strong-armed hero spake, and ran<br />\nForward to meet the sunbright man.<br />\nBefore him, as he came, he bent<br />\nAnd clasped his feet most reverent,<br />\nThen rearing up his stately height<br />\nStood suppliant by the anchorite,<br />\nWhile Lakshmaṇ\'s strength and Sítá\'s grace<br />\nStood by the pride of Raghu\'s race.<br />\n[244]<br />\nThe sage his arms round Ráma threw<br />\nAnd welcomed him with honours due,<br />\nAsked, was all well, with question sweet,<br />\nAnd bade the hero to a seat.<br />\nWith holy oil he fed the flame,<br />\nHe brought the gifts which strangers claim,<br />\nAnd kindly waiting on the three<br />\nWith honours due to high degree,<br />\nHe gave with hospitable care<br />\nA simple hermit\'s woodland fare.<br />\nThen sat the reverend father, first<br />\nOf hermits, deep in duty versed.<br />\nAnd thus to suppliant Ráma, bred<br />\nIn all the lore of virtue, said:<br />\n“Did the false hermit, Prince, neglect<br />\nTo hail his guest with due respect,<br />\nHe must,—the doom the perjured meet,—<br />\nHis proper flesh hereafter eat.<br />\nA car-borne king, a lord who sways<br />\nThe earth, and virtue\'s law obeys,<br />\nWorthy of highest honour, thou<br />\nHast sought, dear guest, my cottage now.”<br />\nCanto XII. The Heavenly Bow.<br />\n861<br />\nHe spoke: with fruit and hermit fare,<br />\nWith every bloom the branches bare,<br />\nAgastya graced his honoured guest,<br />\nAnd thus with gentle words addressed:<br />\n“Accept this mighty bow, divine,<br />\nWhereon red gold and diamonds shine;<br />\n\'Twas by the Heavenly Artist planned<br />\nFor Vishṇu\'s own almighty hand;<br />\nThis God-sent shaft of sunbright hue,<br />\nWhose deadly flight is ever true,<br />\nBy Lord Mahendra given of yore:<br />\nThis quiver with its endless store.<br />\nKeen arrows hurtling to their aim<br />\nLike kindled fires that flash and flame:<br />\nAccept, in golden sheath encased,<br />\nThis sword with hilt of rich gold graced.<br />\nArmed with this best of bows<br />\nLord Vishṇu slew his demon foes,<br />\nAnd mid the dwellers in the skies<br />\nWon brilliant glory for his prize.<br />\nThe bow, the quivers, shaft, and sword<br />\nReceived from me, O glorious lord:<br />\nThese conquest to thine arm shall bring,<br />\nAs thunder to the thunder\'s King.”<br />\nThe splendid hermit bade him take<br />\nThe noble weapons as he spake,<br />\nAnd as the prince accepted each<br />\nIn words like these renewed his speech:<br />\n862<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nCanto XIII. Agastya\'s Counsel.<br />\n“O Ráma, great delight I feel,<br />\nPleased, Lakshmaṇ, with thy faithful zeal,<br />\nThat you within these shades I see<br />\nWith Sítá come to honour me.<br />\nBut wandering through the rough rude wild<br />\nHas wearied Janak\'s gentle child:<br />\nWith labours of the way oppressed<br />\nThe Maithil lady longs for rest.<br />\nYoung, delicate, and soft, and fair,<br />\nSuch toils as these untrained to bear,<br />\nHer wifely love the dame has led<br />\nThe forest\'s troubled ways to tread.<br />\nHere, Ráma, see that naught annoy<br />\nHer easy hours of tranquil joy:<br />\nA glorious task has she assayed,<br />\nTo follow thee through woodland shade.<br />\nSince first from Nature\'s hand she came,<br />\nA woman\'s mood is still the same,<br />\nWhen Fortune smiles, her love to show,<br />\nAnd leave her lord in want and woe.<br />\nNo pity then her heart can feel,<br />\nShe arms her soul with warrior\'s steel,<br />\nSwift as the storm or Feathered King,<br />\nUncertain as the lightning\'s wing.<br />\nNot so thy spouse: her purer mind<br />\nShrinks from the faults of womankind;<br />\nLike chaste Arundhatí441above,<br />\nA paragon of faithful love.<br />\nLet these blest shades, dear Ráma, be<br />\nA home for Lakshmaṇ, her, and thee.”<br />\n441One of the Pleiades generally regarded as the model of wifely excellence.<br />\nCanto XIII. Agastya\'s Counsel.<br />\n863<br />\nWith raised hands reverently meek<br />\nHe heard the holy hermit speak,<br />\nAnd humbly thus addressed the sire<br />\nWhose glory shone like kindled fire:<br />\n“How blest am I, what thanks I owe<br />\nThat our great Master deigns to show<br />\nHis favour, that his heart can be<br />\nContent with Lakshmaṇ, Sítá, me.<br />\nShow me, I pray, some spot of ground<br />\nWhere thick trees wave and springs abound,<br />\nThat I may raise my hermit cell<br />\nAnd there in tranquil pleasure dwell.”<br />\nThen thus replied Agastya, best<br />\nOf hermits, to the chief\'s request:<br />\nWhen for a little he had bent<br />\nHis thoughts, upon that prayer intent:<br />\n“Beloved son, four leagues away<br />\nIs Panchavaṭí bright and gay:<br />\nThronged with its deer, most fair it looks<br />\nWith berries, fruit, and water-brooks.<br />\nThere build thee with thy brother\'s aid<br />\nA cottage in the quiet shade,<br />\nAnd faithful to thy sire\'s behest,<br />\nObedient to the sentence, rest.<br />\nFor well, O sinless chieftain, well<br />\nI know thy tale, how all befell:<br />\nStern penance and the love I bore<br />\nThy royal sire supply the lore.<br />\nTo me long rites and fervid zeal<br />\nThe wish that stirs thy heart reveal,<br />\nAnd hence my guest I bade thee be,<br />\nThat this pure grove might shelter thee.<br />\n[245]<br />\n864<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nSo now, thereafter, thus I speak:<br />\nThe shades of Panchavaṭí seek;<br />\nThat tranquil spot is bright and fair,<br />\nAnd Sítá will be happy there.<br />\nNot far remote from here it lies,<br />\nA grove to charm thy loving eyes,<br />\nGodávarí\'s pure stream is nigh:<br />\nThere Sítá\'s days will sweetly fly.<br />\nPure, lovely, rich in many a charm,<br />\nO hero of the mighty arm,<br />\n\'Tis gay with every plant and fruit,<br />\nAnd throngs of gay buds never mute.<br />\nThou, true to virtue\'s path, hast might<br />\nTo screen each trusting anchorite,<br />\nAnd wilt from thy new home defend<br />\nThe hermits who on thee depend.<br />\nNow yonder, Prince, direct thine eyes<br />\nWhere dense Madhúka442woods arise:<br />\nPierce their dark shade, and issuing forth<br />\nTurn to a fig-tree on the north:<br />\nThen onward up a sloping mead<br />\nFlanked by a hill the way will lead:<br />\nThere Panchavaṭí, ever gay<br />\nWith ceaseless bloom, thy steps will stay.”<br />\nThe hermit ceased: the princely two<br />\nWith seemly honours bade adieu:<br />\nWith reverential awe each youth<br />\nBowed to the saint whose word was truth,<br />\nAnd then, dismissed with Sítá, they<br />\nTo Panchavaṭí took their way.<br />\nThus when each royal prince had grasped<br />\n442The Madhúka, or, as it is now called, Mahuwá, is the Bassia latifolia, a tree<br />\nfrom whose blossoms a spirit is extracted.<br />\nCanto XIV. Jatáyus.<br />\n865<br />\nHis warrior\'s mighty bow, and clasped<br />\nHis quiver to his side,<br />\nWith watchful eyes along the road<br />\nThe glorious saint Agastya showed,<br />\nDauntless in fight the brothers strode,<br />\nAnd Sítá with them hied.<br />\nCanto XIV. Jatáyus.<br />\nThen as the son of Raghu made<br />\nHis way to Panchavaṭí\'s shade,<br />\nA mighty vulture he beheld<br />\nOf size and strength unparalleled.<br />\nThe princes, when the bird they saw,<br />\nApproached with reverence and awe,<br />\nAnd as his giant form they eyed,<br />\n“Tell who thou art,” in wonder cried.<br />\nThe bird, as though their hearts to gain,<br />\nAddressed them thus in gentlest strain;<br />\n“In me, dear sons, the friend behold<br />\nYour royal father loved of old.”<br />\nHe spoke: nor long did Ráma wait<br />\nHis sire\'s dear friend to venerate:<br />\nHe bade the bird declare his name<br />\nAnd the high race of which he came.<br />\nWhen Raghu\'s son had spoken, he<br />\nDeclared his name and pedigree,<br />\nHis words prolonging to disclose<br />\nHow all the things that be arose:<br />\n866<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“List while I tell, O Raghu\'s son,<br />\nThe first-born Fathers, one by one,<br />\nGreat Lords of Life, whence all in earth<br />\nAnd all in heaven derive their birth.<br />\nFirst Kardam heads the glorious race<br />\nWhere Vikrit holds the second place,<br />\nWith Śesha, Sanśray next in line,<br />\nAnd Bahuputra\'s might divine.<br />\nThen Stháṇu and Maríchi came,<br />\nAtri, and Kratu\'s forceful frame.<br />\nPulastya followed, next to him<br />\nAngiras\' name shall ne\'er be dim.<br />\nPrachetas, Pulah next, and then<br />\nDaksha, Vivasvat praised of men:<br />\nAríshṭanemi next, and last<br />\nKaśyap in glory unsurpassed.<br />\nFrom Daksha,—fame the tale has told—:<br />\nThree-score bright daughters sprang of old.<br />\nOf these fair-waisted nymphs the great<br />\nLord Kaśyap sought and wedded eight,<br />\nAditi, Diti, Kálaká,<br />\nTámrá, Danú, and Analá,<br />\nAnd Krodhavasá swift to ire,<br />\nAnd Manu443glorious as her sire.<br />\n443“I should have doubted whether Manu could have been the right reading<br />\nhere, but that it occurs again in verse 29, where it is in like manner followed<br />\nin verse 31 by Analá, so that it would certainly seem that the name Manu is<br />\nintended to stand for a female, the daughter of Daksha. The Gauḍa recension,<br />\nfollowed by Signor Gorresio (III 20, 12), adopts an entirely different reading at<br />\ntheendoftheline,viz. BalámAtibalámapi,‘BaláandAtibilá,’insteadofManu<br />\nand Analá. I see that Professor Roth s.v. adduces the authority of the Amara<br />\nKosha and of the Commentator on Páṇini for stating that the word sometimes<br />\nmeans ‘the wife of Manu.’ In the following text of the Mahábhárata I. 2553.<br />\nalso, Manu appears to be the name of a female: ‘Anaradyam, Manum, Vañsám,<br />\nAsurám, Márgaṇapriyám, Anúpám, Subhagám, Bhásím iti, Prádhá vyajayata.<br />\nCanto XIV. Jatáyus.<br />\n867<br />\nThen when the mighty Kaśyap cried<br />\nDelighted to each tender bride:<br />\n“Sons shalt thou bear, to rule the three<br />\nGreat worlds, in might resembling me.”<br />\n[246]<br />\nAditi, Diti, and Danú<br />\nObeyed his will as consorts true,<br />\nAnd Kálaká; but all the rest<br />\nRefused to hear their lord\'s behest.<br />\nFirst Aditi conceived, and she,<br />\nMother of thirty Gods and three,<br />\nThe Vasus and Ádityas bare,<br />\nRudras, and Aśvins, heavenly pair.<br />\nOf Diti sprang the Daityas: fame<br />\nDelights to laud their ancient name.<br />\nIn days of yore their empire dread<br />\nO\'er earth and woods and ocean spread.<br />\nDanú was mother of a child,<br />\nO hero, Aśvagríva styled,<br />\nAnd Narak next and Kálak came<br />\nOf Kálaká, celestial dame.<br />\nOf Támrá, too, five daughters bright<br />\nIn deathless glory sprang to light.<br />\nEnnobling fame still keeps alive<br />\nThe titles of the lovely five:<br />\nImmortal honour still she claims<br />\nFor Kraunchí, Bhasí, Śyení\'s names.<br />\nAnd wills not that the world forget<br />\nŚukí or Dhritaráshtrí yet.<br />\nThen Kraunchí bare the crane and owl,<br />\nAnd Bhásí tribes of water fowl:<br />\nVultures and hawks that race through air<br />\nWith storm-fleet pinions Śyení bare.<br />\nPrádhá (daughter of Daksha) bore Anavadyá, Manu, Vanśá, Márgaṇapriyá,<br />\nAnúpá, Subhagá. and Bhásí.’” Muir\'s Sanskrit Text, Vol. I. p. 116.<br />\n868<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAll swans and geese on mere and brook<br />\nTheir birth from Dhritaráshtrí took,<br />\nAnd all the river-haunting brood<br />\nOf ducks, a countless multitude.<br />\nFrom Śukí Nalá sprang, who bare<br />\nDame Vinatá surpassing fair.<br />\nFrom fiery Krodhavaśá, ten<br />\nBright daughters sprang, O King of men:<br />\nMrigí and Mrigamandá named,<br />\nHari and Bhadramadá famed,<br />\nŚárdúlí, Śvetá fair to see,<br />\nMátangí bright, and Surabhí,<br />\nSurasá marked with each fair sign,<br />\nAnd Kadrumá, all maids divine.<br />\nMrigí, O Prince without a peer,<br />\nWas mother of the herds of deer,<br />\nThe bear, the yak, the mountain roe<br />\nTheir birth to Mrigamandá owe;<br />\nAnd Bhadramadá joyed to be<br />\nMother of fair Irávatí,<br />\nWho bare Airávat,444huge of mould,<br />\nMid warders of the earth enrolled,<br />\nFrom Harí lordly lions trace,<br />\nWith monkeys of the wild, their race.<br />\nFrom the great dame Śárdúlí styled<br />\nSprung pards, Lángúrs,445and tigers wild.<br />\nMátangí, Prince, gave birth to all<br />\nMátangas, elephants strong and tall,<br />\nAnd Śvetá bore the beasts who stand<br />\nOne at each wind, earth\'s warder band.446<br />\n444The elephant of Indra.<br />\n445Golángúlas, described as a kind of monkey, of a black colour, and having<br />\na tail like a cow.<br />\n446Eight elephants attached to the four quarters and intermediate points of the<br />\nCanto XIV. Jatáyus.<br />\n869<br />\nNext Surabhí the Goddess bore<br />\nTwo heavenly maids, O Prince, of yore,<br />\nGandharví—dear to fame is she—<br />\nAnd her sweet sister Rohiṇí.<br />\nWith kine this daughter filled each mead,<br />\nAnd bright Gandharví bore the steed.447<br />\nSurasá bore the serpents:448all<br />\nThe snakes Kadrú their mother call.<br />\nThen Manu, high-souled Kaśyap\'s449wife,<br />\nTo all the race of men gave life,<br />\nThe Bráhmans first, the Kshatriya caste,<br />\nThen Vaiśyas, and the Śúdras last.<br />\nSprang from her mouth the Bráhman race;<br />\nHer chest the Kshatriyas\' natal place:<br />\nThe Vaiśyas from her thighs, \'tis said,<br />\nThe Śúdras from her feet were bred.<br />\nFrom Analá all trees that hang<br />\nTheir fair fruit-laden branches sprang.<br />\nThe child of beauteous Śukí bore<br />\nVinatá, as I taught before:<br />\nAnd Surasá and Kadrú were<br />\nBorn of one dame, a noble pair.<br />\nKadrú gave birth to countless snakes<br />\nThat roam the earth in woods and brakes.<br />\nAruṇ and Garuḍ swift of flight<br />\ncompass, to support and guard the earth.<br />\n447Some scholars identify the centaurs with the Gandharvas.<br />\n448The hooded serpents, says the commentator Tírtha, were the offspring of<br />\nSurasá: all others of Kadrú.<br />\n449The text reads Kaśyapa, “a descendant of Kaśyapa,” who according to Rám.<br />\nII. l0, 6, ought to be Vivasvat. But as it is stated in the preceding part of this<br />\npassageIII.14, 11f. thatManuwasoneofKaśyapa\'seightwives, wemusthere<br />\nread Kaśyap. The Ganda recension reads (III, 20, 30) Manur manushyáms cha<br />\ntatha janayámása Rághana, instead of the corresponding line in the Bombay<br />\nedition. Muir\'s Sanskrit Text, Vol I, p. 117.<br />\n870<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBy Vinatá were given to light,<br />\nAnd sons of Aruṇ red as morn<br />\nSampati first, then I was born,<br />\nMe then, O tamer of the foe,<br />\nJaṭáyus, son of Śyení, know.<br />\nThy ready helper will I be,<br />\nAnd guard thy house, if thou agree:<br />\nWhen thou and Lakshmaṇ urge the chase<br />\nBy Sítá\'s side shall be my place.”<br />\nWith courteous thanks for promised aid,<br />\nThe prince, to rapture stirred,<br />\nBent low, and due obeisance paid,<br />\nEmbraced the royal bird.<br />\n[247]<br />\nHe often in the days gone by<br />\nHad heard his father tell<br />\nHow, linked with him in friendship\'s tie,<br />\nHe loved Jaṭáyus well.<br />\nHe hastened to his trusted friend<br />\nHis darling to confide,<br />\nAnd through the wood his steps to bend<br />\nBy strong Jaṭáyus\' side.<br />\nOn to the grove, with Lakshmaṇ near,<br />\nThe prince his way pursued<br />\nTo free those pleasant shades from fear<br />\nAnd slay the giant brood.<br />\nCanto XV. Panchavatí.<br />\nCanto XV. Panchavatí.<br />\n871<br />\nArrived at Panchavaṭí\'s shade<br />\nWhere silvan life and serpents strayed,<br />\nRáma in words like these addressed<br />\nLakshmaṇ of vigour unrepressed:<br />\n“Brother, our home is here: behold<br />\nThe grove of which the hermit told:<br />\nThe bowers of Panchavaṭí see<br />\nMade fair by every blooming tree.<br />\nNow, brother, bend thine eyes around;<br />\nWith skilful glance survey the ground:<br />\nHere be some spot selected, best<br />\nApproved for gentle hermits\' rest,<br />\nWhere thou, the Maithil dame, and I<br />\nMay dwell while seasons sweetly fly.<br />\nSome pleasant spot be chosen where<br />\nPure waters gleam and trees are fair,<br />\nSome nook where flowers and wood are found<br />\nAnd sacred grass and springs abound.”<br />\nThen Lakshmaṇ, Sítá standing by,<br />\nRaised reverent hands, and made reply:<br />\n“A hundred years shall flee, and still<br />\nWill I obey my brother\'s will:<br />\nSelect thyself a pleasant spot;<br />\nBe mine the care to rear the cot.”<br />\nThe glorious chieftain, pleased to hear<br />\nThat loving speech that soothed his ear,<br />\nSelected with observant care<br />\nA spot with every charm most fair.<br />\nHe stood within that calm retreat,<br />\nA shade for hermits\' home most meet,<br />\nAnd thus Sumitrá\'s son addressed,<br />\nWhile his dear hand in his he pressed:<br />\n872<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“See, see this smooth and lovely glade<br />\nWhich flowery trees encircling shade:<br />\nDo thou, beloved Lakshmaṇ rear<br />\nA pleasant cot to lodge us here.<br />\nI see beyond that feathery brake<br />\nThe gleaming of a lilied lake,<br />\nWhere flowers in sunlike glory throw<br />\nFresh odours from the wave below.<br />\nAgastya\'s words now find we true,<br />\nHe told the charms which here we view:<br />\nHere are the trees that blossom o\'er<br />\nGodávarí\'s most lovely shore.<br />\nWhose pleasant flood from side to side<br />\nWith swans and geese is beautified,<br />\nAnd fair banks crowded with the deer<br />\nThat steal from every covert near.<br />\nThe peacock\'s cry is loud and shrill<br />\nFrom many a tall and lovely hill,<br />\nGreen-belted by the trees that wave<br />\nFull blossoms o\'er the rock and cave.<br />\nLike elephants whose huge fronts glow<br />\nWith painted streaks, the mountains show<br />\nLong lines of gold and silver sheen<br />\nWith copper\'s darker hues between.<br />\nWith every tree each hill is graced,<br />\nWhere creepers blossom interlaced.<br />\nLook where the Sál\'s long branches sway,<br />\nAnd palms their fanlike leaves display;<br />\nThe date-tree and the Jak are near,<br />\nAnd their long stems Tamálas rear.<br />\nSee the tall Mango lift his head,<br />\nAśokas all their glory spread,<br />\nThe Ketak her sweet buds unfold,<br />\nCanto XV. Panchavatí.<br />\n873<br />\nAnd Champacs hang their cups of gold.450<br />\nThe spot is pure and pleasant: here<br />\nAre multitudes of birds and deer.<br />\nO Lakshmaṇ, with our father\'s friend<br />\nWhat happy hours we here shall spend!”<br />\nHe spoke: the conquering Lakshmaṇ heard,<br />\nObedient to his brother\'s word.<br />\nRaised by his toil a cottage stood<br />\nTo shelter Ráma in the wood,<br />\nOf ample size, with leaves o\'erlaid,<br />\nOf hardened earth the walls were made.<br />\nThe strong bamboos his hands had felled<br />\nFor pillars fair the roof upheld,<br />\nAnd rafter, beam, and lath supplied<br />\nWell interwrought from side to side.<br />\nThen Śamí451boughs he deftly spread<br />\nEnlaced with knotted cord o\'erhead,<br />\nWell thatched above from ridge to eaves<br />\nWith holy grass, and reed, and leaves.<br />\nThe mighty chief with careful toil<br />\nHad cleared the ground and smoothed the soil<br />\n[248]<br />\nWhere now, his loving labour done,<br />\nRose a fair home for Raghu\'s son.<br />\nThen when his work was duly wrought,<br />\nGodávarís sweet stream he sought,<br />\nBathed, plucked the lilies, and a store<br />\n450The original verses merely name the trees. I have been obliged to amplify<br />\nslightly and to omit some quas versu dicere non est; e.g. the tiniśa (Dalber-<br />\ngia ougeiniensis), punnága (Rottleria tinctoria), tilaka (not named), syandana<br />\n(Dalbergiaougeiniensisagain), vandana(unknown), nípa(NaucleaKadamba),<br />\nlakucha (Artœarpus lacucha), dhava (Grislea tomentosa), Aśvakarna (another<br />\nname for the Sál), Śamí (Acacia Suma), khadira (Mimosa catechu), kinśuka<br />\n(Butea frondosa), pátala (Bignonia suaveolens).<br />\n451Acacia Suma.<br />\n874<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOf fruit and berries homeward bore.<br />\nThen sacrifice he duly paid,<br />\nAnd wooed the Gods their hopes to aid,<br />\nAnd then to Ráma proudly showed<br />\nThe cot prepared for his abode.<br />\nThen Raghu\'s son with Sítá gazed<br />\nUpon the home his hands had raised,<br />\nAnd transport thrilled his bosom through<br />\nHis leafy hermitage to view.<br />\nThe glorious son of Raghu round<br />\nHis brother\'s neck his arms enwound,<br />\nAnd thus began his sweet address<br />\nOf deep-felt joy and gentleness:<br />\n“Well pleased am I, dear lord, to see<br />\nThis noble work performed by thee.<br />\nFor this,—sole grace I can bestow,—<br />\nAbout thy neck mine arms I throw.<br />\nSo wise art thou, thy breast is filled<br />\nWith grateful thoughts, in duty skilled,<br />\nOur mighty father, free from stain,<br />\nIn thee, his offspring, lives again.”<br />\nThus spoke the prince, who lent a grace<br />\nTo fortune, pride of Raghu\'s race;<br />\nThen in that spot whose pleasant shade<br />\nGave store of fruit, content he stayed.<br />\nWith Lakshmaṇ and his Maithil spouse<br />\nHe spent his day\'s neath sheltering boughs,<br />\nAs happy as a God on high<br />\nLives in his mansion in the sky.<br />\nCanto XVI. Winter.<br />\n875<br />\nCanto XVI. Winter.<br />\nWhile there the high-souled hero spent<br />\nHis tranquil hours in sweet content,<br />\nThe glowing autumn passed, and then<br />\nCame winter so beloved of men.<br />\nOne morn, to bathe, at break of day<br />\nTo the fair stream he took his way.<br />\nBehind him, with the Maithil dame<br />\nBearing a pitcher Lakshmaṇ came,<br />\nAnd as he went the mighty man<br />\nThus to his brother chief began:<br />\n“The time is come, to thee more dear<br />\nThan all the months that mark the year:<br />\nThe gracious seasons\' joy and pride,<br />\nBy which the rest are glorified.<br />\nA robe of hoary rime is spread<br />\nO\'er earth, with corn engarlanded.<br />\nThe streams we loved no longer please,<br />\nBut near the fire we take our ease.<br />\nNow pious men to God and shade<br />\nOffer young corn\'s fresh sprouted blade,<br />\nAnd purge away their sins with rice<br />\nBestowed in humble sacrifice.<br />\nRich stores of milk delight the swain,<br />\nAnd hearts are cheered that longed for gain,<br />\nProud kings whose breasts for conquests glow<br />\nLead bannered troops to smite the foe.<br />\nDark is the north: the Lord of Day<br />\nTo Yáma\'s south452has turned away:<br />\n452The south is supposed to be the residence of the departed.<br />\n876<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd she—sad widow—shines no more,<br />\nReft of the bridal mark453she wore.<br />\nHimálaya\'s hill, ordained of old<br />\nThe treasure-house of frost and cold,<br />\nScarce conscious of the feebler glow,<br />\nIs truly now the Lord of Snow.<br />\nWarmed by the noontide\'s genial rays<br />\nDelightful are the glorious days:<br />\nBut how we shudder at the chill<br />\nOf evening shadows and the rill!<br />\nHow weak the sun, how cold the breeze!<br />\nHow white the rime on grass and trees!<br />\nThe leaves are sere, the woods have lost<br />\nTheir blossoms killed by nipping frost.<br />\nNeath open skies we sleep no more:<br />\nDecember\'s nights with rime are hoar:<br />\nTheir triple watch454in length extends<br />\nWith hours the shortened daylight lends.<br />\nNo more the moon\'s sun-borrowed rays<br />\nAre bright, involved in misty haze,<br />\nAs when upon the mirror\'s sheen<br />\nThe breath\'s obscuring cloud is seen.<br />\nE\'en at the full the faint beams fail<br />\nTo struggle through the darksome veil:<br />\nChanged like her hue, they want the grace<br />\nThat parts not yet from Sítá\'s face.<br />\nCold is the western wind, but how<br />\nIts piercing chill is heightened now,<br />\nBlowing at early morning twice<br />\nAs furious with its breath of ice!<br />\nSee how the dewy tears they weep<br />\nThe barley, wheat, and woodland steep,<br />\n453The sun.<br />\n454The night is divided into three watches of four hours each.<br />\nCanto XVI. Winter.<br />\n877<br />\nWhere, as the sun goes up the sky,<br />\nThe curlew and the sáras cry.<br />\nSee where the rice plants scarce uphold<br />\nTheir full ears tinged with paly gold,<br />\nBending their ripe heads slowly down<br />\nFair as the date tree\'s flowery crown.<br />\nThough now the sun has mounted high<br />\nSeeking the forehead of the sky,<br />\nSuch mist obscures his struggling beams,<br />\nNo bigger than the moon he seems.<br />\nThough weak at first, his rays at length<br />\nGrow pleasant in their noonday strength,<br />\nAnd where a while they chance to fall<br />\nFling a faint splendour over all.<br />\n[249]<br />\nSee, o\'er the woods where grass is wet<br />\nWith hoary drops that cling there yet,<br />\nWith soft light clothing earth and bough<br />\nThere steals a tender glory now.<br />\nYon elephant who longs to drink,<br />\nStill standing on the river\'s brink,<br />\nPlucks back his trunk in shivering haste<br />\nFrom the cold wave he fain would taste.<br />\nThe very fowl that haunt the mere<br />\nStand doubtful on the bank, and fear<br />\nTo dip them in the wintry wave<br />\nAs cowards dread to meet the brave.<br />\nThe frost of night, the rime of dawn<br />\nBind flowerless trees and glades of lawn:<br />\nBenumbed in apathetic chill<br />\nOf icy chains they slumber still.<br />\nYou hear the hidden sáras cry<br />\nFrom floods that wrapped in vapour lie,<br />\nAnd frosty-shining sands reveal<br />\nWhere the unnoticed rivers steal.<br />\n878<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe hoary rime of dewy night,<br />\nAnd suns that glow with tempered light<br />\nLend fresh cool flavours to the rill<br />\nThat sparkles from the topmost hill.<br />\nThe cold has killed the lily\'s pride:<br />\nLeaf, filament, and flower have died:<br />\nWith chilling breath rude winds have blown,<br />\nThe withered stalk is left alone.<br />\nAt this gay time, O noblest chief,<br />\nThe faithful Bharat, worn by grief,<br />\nLives in the royal town where he<br />\nSpends weary hours for love of thee.<br />\nFrom titles, honour, kingly sway,<br />\nFrom every joy he turns away:<br />\nCouched on cold earth, his days are passed<br />\nWith scanty fare and hermit\'s fast.<br />\nThis moment from his humble bed<br />\nHe lifts, perhaps, his weary head,<br />\nAnd girt by many a follower goes<br />\nTo bathe where silver Sarjú flows.<br />\nHow, when the frosty morn is dim,<br />\nShall Sarjú be a bath for him<br />\nNursed with all love and tender care,<br />\nSo delicate and young and fair.<br />\nHow bright his hue! his brilliant eye<br />\nWith the broad lotus leaf may vie.<br />\nBy fortune stamped for happy fate,<br />\nHis graceful form is tall and straight.<br />\nIn duty skilled, his words are truth:<br />\nHe proudly rules each lust of youth.<br />\nThough his strong arm smites down the foe,<br />\nIn gentle speech his accents flow.<br />\nYet every joy has he resigned<br />\nAnd cleaves to thee with heart and mind.<br />\nCanto XVI. Winter.<br />\n879<br />\nThus by the deeds that he has done<br />\nA name in heaven has Bharat won,<br />\nFor in his life he follows yet<br />\nThy steps, O banished anchoret.<br />\nThus faithful Bharat, nobly wise,<br />\nThe proverb of the world belies:<br />\n“No men, by mothers\' guidance led,<br />\nThe footsteps of their fathers tread.”<br />\nHow could Kaikeyí, blest to be<br />\nSpouse of the king our sire, and see<br />\nA son like virtuous Bharat, blot<br />\nHer glory with so foul a plot!”<br />\nThus in fraternal love he spoke,<br />\nAnd from his lips reproaches broke:<br />\nBut Ráma grieved to hear him chide<br />\nThe absent mother, and replied:<br />\n“Cease, O beloved, cease to blame<br />\nOur royal father\'s second dame.<br />\nStill speak of Bharat first in place<br />\nOf old Ikshváku\'s princely race.<br />\nMy heart, so firmly bent but now<br />\nTo dwell in woods and keep my vow,<br />\nHalf melting as I hear thee speak<br />\nOf Bharat\'s love, grows soft and weak,<br />\nWith tender joy I bring to mind<br />\nHis speeches ever sweet and kind.<br />\nThat dear as Amrit took the sense<br />\nWith most enchanting influence.<br />\nAh, when shall I, no more to part,<br />\nMeet Bharat of the mighty heart?<br />\nWhen, O my brother, when shall we<br />\nThe good and brave Śatrughna see?”<br />\n880<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThus as he poured his fond lament<br />\nThe son of Raghu onward went:<br />\nThey reached the river, and the three<br />\nBathed them in fair Godávarí.<br />\nLibations of the stream they paid<br />\nTo every deity and shade,<br />\nWith hymns of praise, the Sun on high<br />\nAnd sinless Gods to glorify.<br />\nFresh from the purifying tide<br />\nResplendent Ráma came,<br />\nWith Lakshmaṇ ever by his side,<br />\nAnd the sweet Maithil dame.<br />\nSo Rudra shines by worlds adored,<br />\nIn glory undefiled,<br />\nWhen Nandi455stands beside his lord,<br />\nAnd King Himálaya\'s child.456<br />\nCanto XVII. Súrpanakhá.<br />\nThe bathing and the prayer were o\'er;<br />\nHe turned him from the grassy shore,<br />\nAnd with his brother and his spouse<br />\nSought his fair home beneath the boughs.<br />\nSítá and Lakshmaṇ by his side,<br />\nOn to his cot the hero hied,<br />\nAnd after rites at morning due<br />\nWithin the leafy shade withdrew.<br />\n[250]<br />\n455The chief chamberlain and attendant of Śiva or Rudra.<br />\n456Umá or Párvati, the consort of Śiva.<br />\nCanto XVII. Súrpanakhá.<br />\n881<br />\nThen, honoured by the devotees,<br />\nAs royal Ráma sat at ease,<br />\nWith Sítá near him, o\'er his head<br />\nA canopy of green boughs spread,<br />\nHe shone as shines the Lord of Night<br />\nBy Chitrá\'s457side, his dear delight.<br />\nWith Lakshmaṇ there he sat and told<br />\nSweet stories of the days of old,<br />\nAnd as the pleasant time he spent<br />\nWith heart upon each tale intent,<br />\nA giantess, by fancy led,<br />\nCame wandering to his leafy shed.<br />\nFierce Śúrpaṇakhá,—her of yore<br />\nThe Ten-necked tyrant\'s mother bore,—<br />\nSaw Ráma with his noble mien<br />\nBright as the Gods in heaven are seen;<br />\nHim from whose brow a glory gleamed,<br />\nLike lotus leaves his full eyes beamed:<br />\nLong-armed, of elephantine gait,<br />\nWith hair close coiled in hermit plait:<br />\nIn youthful vigour, nobly framed,<br />\nBy glorious marks a king proclaimed:<br />\nLike some bright lotus lustrous-hued,<br />\nWith young Kandarpa\'s458grace endued:<br />\nAs there like Indra\'s self he shone,<br />\nShe loved the youth she gazed upon.<br />\nShe grim of eye and foul of face<br />\nLoved his sweet glance and forehead\'s grace:<br />\nShe of unlovely figure, him<br />\nOf stately form and shapely limb:<br />\nShe whose dim locks disordered hung,<br />\nHim whose bright hair on high brows clung:<br />\n457A star, one of the favourites of the Moon.<br />\n458The God of love.<br />\n882<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nShe whose fierce accents counselled fear,<br />\nHim whose soft tones were sweet to hear:<br />\nShe whose dire form with age was dried,<br />\nHim radiant in his youthful pride:<br />\nShe whose false lips maintained the wrong,<br />\nHim in the words of virtue strong:<br />\nShe cruel-hearted, stained with sin,<br />\nHim just in deed and pure within.<br />\nShe, hideous fiend, a thing to hate,<br />\nHim formed each eye to captivate:<br />\nFierce passion in her bosom woke,<br />\nAnd thus to Raghu\'s son she spoke:<br />\n“With matted hair above thy brows,<br />\nWith bow and shaft and this thy spouse,<br />\nHow hast thou sought in hermit dress<br />\nThe giant-haunted wilderness?<br />\nWhat dost thou here? The cause explain:<br />\nWhy art thou come, and what to gain?”<br />\nAs Śúrpaṇakhá questioned so,<br />\nRáma, the terror of the foe,<br />\nIn answer to the monster\'s call,<br />\nWith fearless candour told her all.<br />\n“King Daśaratha reigned of old,<br />\nLike Gods celestial brave and bold.<br />\nI am his eldest son and heir,<br />\nAnd Ráma is the name I bear.<br />\nThis brother, Lakshmaṇ, younger born,<br />\nMost faithful love to me has sworn.<br />\nMy wife, this princess, dear to fame,<br />\nIs Sitá the Videhan dame.<br />\nObedient to my sire\'s behest<br />\nAnd by the queen my mother pressed,<br />\nTo keep the law and merit win,<br />\nCanto XVII. Súrpanakhá.<br />\n883<br />\nI sought this wood to harbour in.<br />\nBut speak, for I of thee in turn<br />\nThy name, and race, and sire would learn.<br />\nThou art of giant race, I ween.<br />\nChanging at will thy form and mien.<br />\nSpeak truly, and the cause declare<br />\nThat bids thee to these shades repair.”<br />\nThus Ráma spoke: the demon heard,<br />\nAnd thus replied by passion spurred:<br />\n“Of giant race, what form soe\'er<br />\nMy fancy wills, \'tis mine to wear.<br />\nNamed Śúrpaṇakhá here I stray,<br />\nAnd where I walk spread wild dismay.<br />\nKing Rávaṇ is my brother: fame<br />\nHas taught perchance his dreaded name,<br />\nStrong Kumbhakarṇa slumbering deep<br />\nIn chains of never-ending sleep:<br />\nVibhíshaṇ of the duteous mind,<br />\nIn needs unlike his giant kind:<br />\nDúshaṇ and Khara, brave and bold<br />\nWhose fame by every tongue is told:<br />\nTheir might by mine is far surpassed;<br />\nBut when, O best of men, I cast<br />\nThese fond eyes on thy form, I see<br />\nMy chosen love and lord in thee.<br />\nEndowed with wondrous might am I:<br />\nWhere\'er my fancy leads I fly.<br />\nThe poor misshapen Sítá leave,<br />\nAnd me, thy worthier bride receive.<br />\nLook on my beauty, and prefer<br />\nA spouse more meet than one like her:<br />\nI\'ll eat that ill-formed woman there:<br />\nThy brother too her fate shall share.<br />\n884<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBut come, beloved, thou shalt roam<br />\nWith me through all our woodland home;<br />\nEach varied grove with me shalt seek,<br />\nAnd gaze upon each mountain peak.”<br />\nAs thus she spoke, the monster gazed<br />\nWith sparkling eyes where passion blazed:<br />\nThen he, in lore of language learned,<br />\nThis answer eloquent returned:<br />\nCanto XVIII. The Mutilation.<br />\nOn her ensnared in Káma\'s net<br />\nHis eyes the royal Ráma set,<br />\n[251]<br />\nAnd thus, her passion to beguile,<br />\nAddressed her with a gentle smile:<br />\n“I have a wife: behold her here,<br />\nMy Sítá ever true and dear:<br />\nAnd one like thee will never brook<br />\nUpon a rival spouse to look.<br />\nBut there my brother Lakshmaṇ stands:<br />\nUnchained is he by nuptial bands:<br />\nA youth heroic, loved of all,<br />\nGracious and gallant, fair and tall.<br />\nWith winning looks, most nobly bred,<br />\nUnmatched till now, he longs to wed.<br />\nMeet to enjoy thy youthful charms,<br />\nO take him to thy loving arms.<br />\nEnamoured on his bosom lie,<br />\nFair damsel of the radiant eye,<br />\nAs the warm sunlight loves to rest<br />\nUpon her darling Meru\'s breast.”<br />\nCanto XVIII. The Mutilation.<br />\n885<br />\nThe hero spoke, the monster heard,<br />\nWhile passion still her bosom stirred.<br />\nAway from Ráma\'s side she broke,<br />\nAnd thus in turn to Lakshmaṇ spoke:<br />\n“Come, for thy bride take me who shine<br />\nIn fairest grace that suits with thine.<br />\nThou by my side from grove to grove<br />\nOf Daṇḍak\'s wild in bliss shalt rove.”<br />\nThen Lakshmaṇ, skilled in soft address,<br />\nWooed by the amorous giantess,<br />\nWith art to turn her love aside,<br />\nTo Śúrpaṇakhá thus replied:<br />\n“And can so high a dame agree<br />\nThe slave-wife of a slave to be?<br />\nI, lotus-hued! in good and ill<br />\nAm bondsman to my brother\'s will.<br />\nBe thou, fair creature radiant-eyed,<br />\nMy honoured brother\'s younger bride:<br />\nWith faultless tint and dainty limb,<br />\nA happy wife, bring joy to him.<br />\nHe from his spouse grown old and grey,<br />\nDeformed, untrue, will turn away,<br />\nHer withered charms will gladly leave,<br />\nAnd to his fair young darling cleave.<br />\nFor who could be so fond and blind,<br />\nO loveliest of all female kind,<br />\nTo love another dame and slight<br />\nThy beauties rich in all delight?”<br />\n886<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThus Lakshmaṇ praised in scornful jest<br />\nThe long-toothed fiend with loathly breast,<br />\nWho fondly heard his speech, nor knew<br />\nHis mocking words were aught but true.<br />\nAgain inflamed with love she fled<br />\nTo Ráma, in his leafy shed<br />\nWhere Sítá rested by his side,<br />\nAnd to the mighty victor cried:<br />\n“What, Ráma, canst thou blindly cling<br />\nTo this old false misshapen thing?<br />\nWilt thou refuse the charms of youth<br />\nFor withered breast and grinning tooth!<br />\nCanst thou this wretched creature prize<br />\nAnd look on me with scornful eyes?<br />\nThis aged crone this very hour<br />\nBefore thy face will I devour:<br />\nThen joyous, from all rivals free.<br />\nThrough Daṇḍak will I stray with thee.”<br />\nShe spoke, and with a glance of flame<br />\nRushed on the fawn-eyed Maithil dame:<br />\nSo would a horrid meteor mar<br />\nFair Rohiṇí\'s soft beaming star.<br />\nBut as the furious fiend drew near,<br />\nLike Death\'s dire noose which chills with fear,<br />\nThe mighty chief her purpose stayed,<br />\nAnd spoke, his brother to upbraid:<br />\n“Ne\'er should we jest with creatures rude,<br />\nOf savage race and wrathful mood.<br />\nThink, Lakshmaṇ, think how nearly slain<br />\nMy dear Videhan breathes again.<br />\nLet not the hideous wretch escape<br />\nWithout a mark to mar her shape.<br />\nCanto XVIII. The Mutilation.<br />\n887<br />\nStrike, lord of men, the monstrous fiend,<br />\nDeformed, and foul, and evil-miened.”<br />\nHe spoke: then Lakshmaṇ\'s wrath rose high,<br />\nAnd there before his brother\'s eye,<br />\nHe drew that sword which none could stay,<br />\nAnd cleft her nose and ears away.<br />\nNoseless and earless, torn and maimed,<br />\nWith fearful shrieks the fiend exclaimed,<br />\nAnd frantic in her wild distress<br />\nResought the distant wilderness.<br />\nDeformed, terrific, huge, and dread,<br />\nAs on she moved, her gashes bled,<br />\nAnd groan succeeded groan as loud<br />\nAs roars, ere rain, the thunder cloud.<br />\nStill on the fearful monster passed,<br />\nWhile streams of blood kept falling fast,<br />\nAnd with a roar, and arms outspread<br />\nWithin the boundless wood she fled.<br />\nTo Janasthán the monster flew;<br />\nFierce Khara there she found,<br />\nWith chieftains of the giant crew<br />\nIn thousands ranged around.<br />\nBefore his awful feet she bent<br />\nAnd fell with piercing cries,<br />\nAs when a bolt in swift descent<br />\nComes flashing from the skies.<br />\nThere for a while with senses dazed<br />\nSilent she lay and scared:<br />\nAt length her drooping head she raised,<br />\nAnd all the tale declared,<br />\nHow Ráma, Lakshmaṇ, and the dame<br />\nHad reached that lonely place:<br />\nThen told her injuries and shame,<br />\n888<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd showed her bleeding face.<br />\nCanto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara.<br />\nWhen Khara saw his sister lie<br />\nWith blood-stained limbs and troubled eye,<br />\n[252]<br />\nWild fury in his bosom woke,<br />\nAnd thus the monstrous giant spoke;<br />\n“Arise, my sister; cast away<br />\nThis numbing terror and dismay,<br />\nAnd straight the impious hand declare<br />\nThat marred those features once so fair.<br />\nFor who his finger tip will lay<br />\nOn the black snake in childish play,<br />\nAnd unattacked, with idle stroke<br />\nHis poison-laden fang provoke?<br />\nIll-fated fool, he little knows<br />\nDeath\'s noose around his neck he throws,<br />\nWho rashly met thee, and a draught<br />\nOf life-destroying poison quaffed.<br />\nStrong, fierce as death, \'twas thine to choose<br />\nThy way at will, each shape to use;<br />\nIn power and might like one of us:<br />\nWhat hand has maimed and marred thee thus?<br />\nWhat God or fiend this deed has wrought,<br />\nWhat bard or sage of lofty thought<br />\nWas armed with power supremely great<br />\nThy form to mar and mutilate?<br />\nIn all the worlds not one I see<br />\nWould dare a deed to anger me:<br />\nCanto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara.<br />\n889<br />\nNot Indra\'s self, the Thousand-eyed,<br />\nBeneath whose hand fierce Páka459died.<br />\nMy life-destroying darts this day<br />\nHis guilty breath shall rend away,<br />\nE\'en as the thirsty wild swan drains<br />\nEach milk-drop that the wave retains.<br />\nWhose blood in foaming streams shall burst<br />\nO\'er the dry ground which lies athirst,<br />\nWhen by my shafts transfixed and slain<br />\nHe falls upon the battle plain?<br />\nFrom whose dead corpse shall birds of air<br />\nThe mangled flesh and sinews tear,<br />\nAnd in their gory feast delight,<br />\nWhen I have slain him in the fight?<br />\nNot God or bard or wandering ghost,<br />\nNo giant of our mighty host<br />\nShall step between us, or avail<br />\nTo save the wretch when I assail.<br />\nCollect each scattered sense, recall<br />\nThy troubled thoughts, and tell me all.<br />\nWhat wretch attacked thee in the way,<br />\nAnd quelled thee in victorious fray?”<br />\nHis breast with burning fury fired,<br />\nThus Khara of the fiend inquired:<br />\nAnd then with many a tear and sigh<br />\nThus Śúrpaṇakhá made reply:<br />\n“\'Tis Daśaratha\'s sons, a pair<br />\nStrong, resolute, and young, and fair:<br />\nIn coats of dark and blackdeer\'s hide,<br />\nAnd like the radiant lotus eyed:<br />\nOn berries roots and fruit they feed,<br />\nAnd lives of saintly virtue lead:<br />\n459A demon slain by Indra.<br />\n890<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWith ordered senses undefiled,<br />\nRáma and Lakshmaṇ are they styled.<br />\nFair as the Minstrels\' King460are they,<br />\nAnd stamped with signs of regal sway.<br />\nI know not if the heroes trace<br />\nTheir line from Gods or Dánav461race.<br />\nThere by these wondering eyes between<br />\nThe noble youths a dame was seen,<br />\nFair, blooming, young, with dainty waist,<br />\nAnd all her bright apparel graced.<br />\nFor her with ready heart and mind<br />\nThe royal pair their strength combined,<br />\nAnd brought me to this last distress,<br />\nLike some lost woman, comfortless.<br />\nPerfidious wretch! my soul is fain<br />\nHer foaming blood and theirs to drain.<br />\nO let me head the vengeful fight,<br />\nAnd with this hand my murderers smite.<br />\nCome, brother, hasten to fulfil<br />\nThis longing of my eager will.<br />\nOn to the battle! Let me drink<br />\nTheir lifeblood as to earth they sink.”<br />\nThen Khara, by his sister pressed,<br />\nInflamed with fury, gave his hest<br />\nTo twice seven giants of his crew,<br />\nFierce as the God of death to view:<br />\n460Chitraratha, King of the Gandharvas.<br />\n461Titanic.<br />\nCanto XX. The Giants\' Death.<br />\n891<br />\n\'Two men equipped with arms, who wear<br />\nDeerskin and bark and matted hair,<br />\nLeading a beauteous dame, have strayed<br />\nTo the wild gloom of Daṇḍak\'s shade.<br />\nThese men, this cursed woman slay,<br />\nAnd hasten back without delay,<br />\nThat this my sister\'s lips may be<br />\nRed with the lifeblood of the three.<br />\nGiants, my wounded sister longs<br />\nTo take this vengeance for her wrongs.<br />\nWith speed her dearest wish fulfil,<br />\nAnd with your might these creatures kill.<br />\nSoon as your matchless strength shall lay<br />\nThese brothers dead in battle fray,<br />\nShe in triumphant joy will laugh,<br />\nAnd their hearts\' blood delighted quaff.”<br />\nThe giants heard the words he said,<br />\nAnd forth with Śúrpaṇakhá sped,<br />\nAs mighty clouds in autumn fly<br />\nUrged by the wind along the sky.<br />\nCanto XX. The Giants\' Death.<br />\nFierce Śúrpaṇakhá with her train<br />\nTo Ráma\'s dwelling came again,<br />\nAnd to the eager giants showed<br />\nWhere Sítá and the youths abode.<br />\nWithin the leafy cot they spied<br />\nThe hero by his consort\'s side,<br />\nAnd faithful Lakshmaṇ ready still<br />\nTo wait upon his brother\'s will.<br />\n[253]<br />\n892<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThen noble Ráma raised his eye<br />\nAnd saw the giants standing nigh,<br />\nAnd then, as nearer still they pressed.<br />\nHis glorious brother thus addressed,<br />\n“Be thine a while, my brother dear,<br />\nTo watch o\'er Sítá\'s safety here,<br />\nAnd I will slay these creatures who<br />\nThe footsteps of my spouse pursue.”<br />\nHe spoke, and reverent Lakshmaṇ heard<br />\nSubmissive to his brother\'s word.<br />\nThe son of Raghu, virtuous-souled,<br />\nStrung his great bow adorned with gold,<br />\nAnd, with the weapon in his hand,<br />\nAddressed him to the giant band:<br />\n“Ráma and Lakshmaṇ we, who spring<br />\nFrom Daśaratha, mighty king;<br />\nWe dwell a while with Sítá here<br />\nIn Daṇḍak forest wild and drear.<br />\nOn woodland roots and fruit we feed,<br />\nAnd lives of strictest rule we lead.<br />\nSay why would ye our lives oppress<br />\nWho sojourn in the wilderness.<br />\nSent hither by the hermits\' prayer<br />\nWith bow and darts unused to spare,<br />\nFor vengeance am I come to slay<br />\nYour sinful band in battle fray.<br />\nRest as ye are: remain content,<br />\nNor try the battle\'s dire event.<br />\nUnless your offered lives ye spurn,<br />\nO rovers of the night, return.”<br />\nCanto XX. The Giants\' Death.<br />\n893<br />\nThey listened while the hero spoke,<br />\nAnd fury in each breast awoke.<br />\nThe Bráhman-slayers raised on high<br />\nTheir mighty spears and made reply:<br />\nThey spoke with eyes aglow with ire,<br />\nWhile Ráma\'s burnt with vengeful tire,<br />\nAnd answered thus, in fury wild,<br />\nThat peerless chief whose tones were mild:<br />\n“Nay thou hast angered, overbold,<br />\nKhara our lord, the mighty-souled,<br />\nAnd for thy sin, in battle strife<br />\nShalt yield to us thy forfeit life.<br />\nNo power hast thou alone to stand<br />\nAgainst the numbers of our band.<br />\n\'Twere vain to match thy single might<br />\nAgainst us in the front of fight.<br />\nWhen we equipped for fight advance<br />\nWith brandished pike and mace and lance,<br />\nThou, vanquished in the desperate field,<br />\nThy bow, thy strength, thy life shalt yield.”<br />\nWith bitter words and threatening mien<br />\nThus furious spoke the fierce fourteen,<br />\nAnd raising scimitar and spear<br />\nOn Ráma rushed in wild career.<br />\nTheir levelled spears the giant crew<br />\nAgainst the matchless hero threw.<br />\nHis bow the son of Raghu bent,<br />\nAnd twice seven shafts to meet them sent,<br />\nAnd every javelin sundered fell<br />\nBy the bright darts he aimed so well.<br />\n894<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe hero saw: his anger grew<br />\nTo fury: from his side he drew<br />\nFresh sunbright arrows pointed keen,<br />\nIn number, like his foes, fourteen.<br />\nHis bow he grasped, the string he drew,<br />\nAnd gazing on the giant crew,<br />\nAs Indra casts the levin, so<br />\nShot forth his arrows at the foe.<br />\nThe hurtling arrows, stained with gore,<br />\nThrough the fiends\' breasts a passage tore,<br />\nAnd in the earth lay buried deep<br />\nAs serpents through an ant-hill creep<br />\nLike trees uptorn by stormy blast<br />\nThe shattered fiends to earth were cast,<br />\nAnd there with mangled bodies they,<br />\nBathed in their blood and breathless, lay.<br />\nWith fainting heart and furious eye<br />\nThe demon saw her champions die.<br />\nWith drying wounds that scarcely bled<br />\nBack to her brother\'s home she fled.<br />\nOppressed with pain, with loud lament<br />\nAt Khara\'s feet the monster bent.<br />\nThere like a plant whence slowly come<br />\nThe trickling drops of oozy gum,<br />\nWith her grim features pale with pain<br />\nShe poured her tears in ceaseless rain,<br />\nThere routed Śúrpaṇakhá lay,<br />\nAnd told her brother all,<br />\nThe issue of the bloody fray,<br />\nHer giant champions\' fall.<br />\nCanto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara.<br />\n895<br />\nCanto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara.<br />\nLow in the dust he saw her lie,<br />\nAnd Khara\'s wrath grew fierce and high.<br />\nAloud he cried to her who came<br />\nDisgracefully with baffled aim:<br />\n“I sent with thee at thy request<br />\nThe bravest of my giants, best<br />\nOf all who feed upon the slain:<br />\nWhy art thou weeping here again?<br />\nStill to their master\'s interest true,<br />\nMy faithful, noble, loyal crew,<br />\nThough slaughtered in the bloody fray,<br />\nWould yet their monarch\'s word obey.<br />\nNow I, my sister, fain would know<br />\nThe cause of this thy fear and woe,<br />\nWhy like a snake thou writhest there,<br />\nCalling for aid in wild despair.<br />\nNay, lie not thus in lowly guise:<br />\nCast off thy weakness and arise!”<br />\nWith soothing words the giant chief<br />\nAssuaged the fury of her grief.<br />\nHer weeping eyes she slowly dried<br />\nAnd to her brother thus replied:<br />\n“I sought thee in my shame and fear<br />\nWith severed nose and mangled ear:<br />\nMy gashes like a river bled,<br />\nI sought thee and was comforted.<br />\n[254]<br />\n896<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThose twice seven giants, brave and strong,<br />\nThou sentest to avenge the wrong,<br />\nTo lay the savage Ráma low,<br />\nAnd Lakshmaṇ who misused me so.<br />\nBut ah, the shafts of Ráma through<br />\nThe bodies of my champions flew:<br />\nThough madly fierce their spears they plied,<br />\nBeneath his conquering might they died.<br />\nI saw them, famed for strength and speed,<br />\nI saw my heroes fall and bleed:<br />\nGreat trembling seized my every limb<br />\nAt the great deed achieved by him.<br />\nIn trouble, horror, doubt, and dread,<br />\nAgain to thee for help I fled.<br />\nWhile terror haunts my troubled sight,<br />\nI seek thee, rover of the night.<br />\nAnd canst thou not thy sister free<br />\nFrom this wide waste of troublous sea<br />\nWhose sharks are doubt and terror, where<br />\nEach wreathing wave is dark despair?<br />\nLow lie on earth thy giant train<br />\nBy ruthless Ráma\'s arrows slain,<br />\nAnd all the mighty demons, fed<br />\nOn blood, who followed me are dead.<br />\nNow if within thy breast may be<br />\nPity for them and love for me,<br />\nIf thou, O rover of the night,<br />\nHave valour and with him can fight,<br />\nSubdue the giants\' cruel foe<br />\nWho dwells where Daṇḍak\'s thickets grow.<br />\nBut if thine arm in vain assay<br />\nThis queller of his foes to slay,<br />\nNow surely here before thine eyes,<br />\nWronged and ashamed thy sister dies.<br />\nCanto XXII. Khara\'s Wrath.<br />\n897<br />\nToo well, alas, too well I see<br />\nThat, strong in war as thou mayst be,<br />\nThou canst not in the battle stand<br />\nWhen Ráma meets thee hand to hand.<br />\nGo forth, thou hero but in name,<br />\nAssuming might thou canst not claim;<br />\nCall friend and kin, no longer stay:<br />\nAway from Janasthán, away!<br />\nShame of thy race! the weak alone<br />\nBeneath thine arm may sink o\'erthrown:<br />\nFly Ráma and his brother: they<br />\nAre men too strong for thee to slay.<br />\nHow canst thou hope, O weak and base,<br />\nTo make this grove thy dwelling-place?<br />\nWith Ráma\'s might unmeet to vie,<br />\nO\'ermastered thou wilt quickly die.<br />\nA hero strong in valorous deed<br />\nIs Ráma, Daśaratha\'s seed:<br />\nAnd scarce of weaker might than he<br />\nHis brother chief who mangled me.”<br />\nThus wept and wailed in deep distress<br />\nThe grim misshapen giantess:<br />\nBefore her brother\'s feet she lay<br />\nO\'erwhelmed with grief, and swooned away.<br />\nCanto XXII. Khara\'s Wrath.<br />\nRoused by the taunting words she spoke,<br />\nThe mighty Khara\'s wrath awoke,<br />\nAnd there, while giants girt him round,<br />\nIn these fierce words an utterance found:<br />\n898<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“I cannot, peerless one, contain<br />\nMine anger at this high disdain,<br />\nGalling as salt when sprinkled o\'er<br />\nThe rawness of a bleeding sore.<br />\nRáma in little count I hold,<br />\nWeak man whose days are quickly told.<br />\nThe caitiff with his life to-day<br />\nFor all his evil deeds shall pay.<br />\nDry, sister, dry each needless tear,<br />\nStint thy lament and banish fear,<br />\nFor Ráma and his brother go<br />\nThis day to Yáma\'s realm below.<br />\nMy warrior\'s axe shall stretch him slain,<br />\nEre set of sun, upon the plain,<br />\nThen shall thy sated lips be red<br />\nWith his warm blood in torrents shed.”<br />\nAs Khara\'s speech the demon heard,<br />\nWith sudden joy her heart was stirred:<br />\nShe fondly praised him as the boast<br />\nAnd glory of the giant host.<br />\nFirst moved to ire by taunts and stings,<br />\nNow soothed by gentle flatterings,<br />\nTo Dúshaṇ, who his armies led,<br />\nThe demon Khara spoke, and said:<br />\n“Friend, from the host of giants call<br />\nFull fourteen thousand, best of all,<br />\nSlaves of my will, of fearful might,<br />\nWho never turn their backs in fight:<br />\nFiends who rejoice to slay and mar,<br />\nDark as the clouds of autumn are:<br />\nMake ready quickly, O my friend,<br />\nMy chariot and the bows I bend.<br />\nCanto XXII. Khara\'s Wrath.<br />\n899<br />\nMy swords, my shafts of brilliant sheen,<br />\nMy divers lances long and keen.<br />\nOn to the battle will I lead<br />\nThese heroes of Pulastya\'s seed,<br />\nAnd thus, O famed for warlike skill,<br />\nRáma my wicked foeman kill.”<br />\nHe spoke, and ere his speech was done,<br />\nHis chariot glittering like the sun,<br />\nYoked and announced, by Dúshan\'s care,<br />\nWith dappled steeds was ready there.<br />\nHigh as a peak from Meru rent<br />\nIt burned with golden ornament:<br />\nThe pole of lazulite, of gold<br />\nWere the bright wheels whereon it rolled.<br />\nWith gold and moonstone blazoned o\'er,<br />\nFish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore;<br />\nAuspicious birds embossed thereon,<br />\nAnd stars in costly emblem shone.<br />\nO\'er flashing swords his banner hung,<br />\nAnd sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung.<br />\n[255]<br />\nThat mighty host with sword and shield<br />\nAnd oar was ready for the field:<br />\nAnd Khara saw, and Dúshan cried,<br />\n“Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride.”<br />\nThen banners waved, and shield and sword<br />\nFlashed as the host obeyed its lord.<br />\nFrom Janasthán they sallied out<br />\nWith eager speed, and din, and shout,<br />\nArmed with the mace for close attacks,<br />\nThe bill, the spear, the battle-axe,<br />\nSteel quoit and club that flashed afar,<br />\nHuge bow and sword and scimitar,<br />\nThe dart to pierce, the bolt to strike,<br />\n900<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike.<br />\nSo forth from Janasthán, intent<br />\nOn Khara\'s will, the monsters went.<br />\nHe saw their awful march: not far<br />\nBehind the host he drove his car.<br />\nWare of his master\'s will, to speed<br />\nThe driver urged each gold-decked steed.<br />\nThen forth the warrior\'s coursers sprang,<br />\nAnd with tumultuous murmur rang<br />\nEach distant quarter of the sky<br />\nAnd realms that intermediate lie.<br />\nHigh and more high within his breast<br />\nHis pride triumphant rose,<br />\nWhile terrible as Death he pressed<br />\nOnward to slay his foes,<br />\n“More swiftly yet,” as on they fled,<br />\nHe cried in thundering tones<br />\nLoud as a cloud that overhead<br />\nHails down a flood of stones.<br />\nCanto XXIII. The Omens.<br />\nAs forth upon its errand went<br />\nThat huge ferocious armament,<br />\nAn awful cloud, in dust and gloom,<br />\nWith threatening thunders from its womb<br />\nPoured in sad augury a flood<br />\nOf rushing water mixt with blood.<br />\nThe monarch\'s steeds, though strong and fleet,<br />\nStumbled and fell: and yet their feet<br />\nPassed o\'er the bed of flowers that lay<br />\nCanto XXIII. The Omens.<br />\n901<br />\nFresh gathered on the royal way.<br />\nNo gleam of sunlight struggled through<br />\nThe sombre pall of midnight hue,<br />\nEdged with a line of bloody red,<br />\nLike whirling torches overhead.<br />\nA vulture, fierce, of mighty size.<br />\nTerrific with his cruel eyes,<br />\nPerched on the staff enriched with gold,<br />\nWhence hung the flag in many a fold.<br />\nEach ravening bird, each beast of prey<br />\nWhere Janasthán\'s wild thickets lay,<br />\nRose with a long discordant cry<br />\nAnd gathered as the host went by.<br />\nAnd from the south long, wild, and shrill,<br />\nCame spirit voices boding ill.<br />\nLike elephants in frantic mood,<br />\nVast clouds terrific, sable-hued,<br />\nHid all the sky where\'er they bore<br />\nTheir load of water mixt with gore.<br />\nAbove, below, around were spread<br />\nThick shades of darkness strange and dread,<br />\nNor could the wildered glance descry<br />\nA point or quarter of the sky.<br />\nThen came o\'er heaven a sanguine hue,<br />\nThough evening\'s flush not yet was due,<br />\nWhile each ill-omened bird that flies<br />\nAssailed the king with harshest cries.<br />\nThere screamed the vulture and the crane,<br />\nAnd the loud jackal shrieked again.<br />\nEach hideous thing that bodes aright<br />\nDisaster in the coming fight,<br />\nWith gaping mouth that hissed and flamed,<br />\nThe ruin of the host proclaimed.<br />\nEclipse untimely reft away<br />\n902<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe brightness of the Lord of Day,<br />\nAnd near his side was seen to glow<br />\nA mace-like comet boding woe.<br />\nThen while the sun was lost to view<br />\nA mighty wind arose and blew,<br />\nAnd stars like fireflies shed their light,<br />\nNor waited for the distant night.<br />\nThe lilies drooped, the brooks were dried,<br />\nThe fish and birds that swam them died,<br />\nAnd every tree that was so fair<br />\nWith flower and fruit was stripped and bare.<br />\nThe wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high,<br />\nDark clouds of dust involved the sky.<br />\nIn doleful twitter long sustained<br />\nThe restless Sárikás462complained,<br />\nAnd from the heavens with flash and flame<br />\nTerrific meteors roaring came.<br />\nEarth to her deep foundation shook<br />\nWith rock and tree and plain and brook,<br />\nAs Khara with triumphant shout,<br />\nBorne in his chariot, sallied out.<br />\nHis left arm throbbed: he knew full well<br />\nThat omen, and his visage fell.<br />\nEach awful sign the giant viewed,<br />\nAnd sudden tears his eye bedewed.<br />\nCare on his brow sat chill and black,<br />\nYet mad with wrath he turned not back.<br />\nUpon each fearful sight that raised<br />\nThe shuddering hair the chieftain gazed,<br />\nAnd laughing in his senseless pride<br />\nThus to his giant legions cried:<br />\n“By sense of mightiest strength upborne,<br />\n462The Sáriká is the Maina, a bird like a starling.<br />\nCanto XXIII. The Omens.<br />\n903<br />\nThese feeble signs I laugh to scorn.<br />\nI could bring down the stars that shine<br />\nIn heaven with these keen shafts of mine.<br />\nImpelled by warlike fury I<br />\nCould cause e\'en Death himself to die.<br />\n[256]<br />\nI will not seek my home again<br />\nUntil my pointed shafts have slain<br />\nThis Raghu\'s son so fierce in pride,<br />\nAnd Lakshmaṇ by his brother\'s side.<br />\nAnd she, my sister, she for whom<br />\nThese sons of Raghu meet their doom,<br />\nShe with delighted lips shall drain<br />\nThe lifeblood of her foemen slain.<br />\nFear not for me: I ne\'er have known<br />\nDefeat, in battle overthrown.<br />\nFear not for me, O giants; true<br />\nAre the proud words I speak to you.<br />\nThe king of Gods who rules on high,<br />\nIf wild Airávat bore him nigh,<br />\nShould fall before me bolt in hand:<br />\nAnd shall these two my wrath withstand!”<br />\nHe ended and the giant host<br />\nWho heard their chief\'s triumphant boast,<br />\nRejoiced with equal pride elate,<br />\nEntangled in the noose of Fate.<br />\nThen met on high in bright array,<br />\nWith eyes that longed to see the fray,<br />\nGod and Gandharva, sage and saint,<br />\nWith beings pure from earthly taint.<br />\nBlest for good works aforetime wrought,<br />\nThus each to other spake his thought:<br />\n“Now joy to Bráhmans, joy to kine,<br />\n904<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd all whom world count half divine!<br />\nMay Raghu\'s offspring slay in fight<br />\nPulastya\'s sons who roam by night!”<br />\nIn words like these and more, the best<br />\nOf high-souled saints their hopes expressed,<br />\nBending their eager eyes from where<br />\nCar-borne with Gods they rode in air.<br />\nBeneath them stretching far, they viewed<br />\nThe giants\' death-doomed multitude.<br />\nThey saw where, urged with fury, far<br />\nBefore the host rolled Khara\'s car,<br />\nAnd close beside their leader came<br />\nTwelve giant peers of might and fame.<br />\nFour other chiefs463before the rest<br />\nBehind their leader Dúshaṇ pressed.<br />\nImpetuous, cruel, dark, and dread,<br />\nAll thirsting for the fray,<br />\nThe hosts of giant warriors sped<br />\nOnward upon their way.<br />\nWith eager speed they reached the spot<br />\nWhere dwelt the princely two,—<br />\nLike planets in a league to blot<br />\nThe sun and moon from view.<br />\nCanto XXIV. The Host In Sight.<br />\n463Mahákapála, Sthúláksha, Pramátha, Triśiras.<br />\nCanto XXIV. The Host In Sight.<br />\n905<br />\nWhile Khara, urged by valiant rage,<br />\nDrew near that little hermitage,<br />\nThose wondrous signs in earth and sky<br />\nSmote on each prince\'s watchful eye.<br />\nWhen Ráma saw those signs of woe<br />\nFraught with destruction to the foe,<br />\nWith bold impatience scarce repressed<br />\nHis brother chief he thus addressed:<br />\n“These fearful signs, my brother bold,<br />\nWhich threaten all our foes, behold:<br />\nAll laden, as they strike the view,<br />\nWith ruin to the fiendish crew.<br />\nThe angry clouds are gathering fast,<br />\nTheir skirts with dusty gloom o\'ercast,<br />\nAnd harsh with loud-voiced thunder, rain<br />\nThick drops of blood upon the plain.<br />\nSee, burning for the coming fight,<br />\nMy shafts with wreaths of smoke are white,<br />\nAnd my great bow embossed with gold<br />\nThrobs eager for the master\'s hold.<br />\nEach bird that through the forest flies<br />\nSends out its melancholy cries.<br />\nAll signs foretell the dangerous strife,<br />\nThe jeopardy of limb and life.<br />\nEach sight, each sound gives warning clear<br />\nThat foemen meet and death is near.<br />\nBut courage, valiant brother! well<br />\nThe throbbings of mine arm foretell<br />\nThat ruin waits the hostile powers,<br />\nAnd triumph in the fight is ours.<br />\nI hail the welcome omen: thou<br />\nArt bright of face and clear of brow.<br />\nFor Lakshmaṇ, when the eye can trace<br />\n906<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nA cloud upon the warrior\'s face<br />\nStealing the cheerful light away,<br />\nHis life is doomed in battle fray.<br />\nList, brother, to that awful cry:<br />\nWith shout and roar the fiends draw nigh.<br />\nWith thundering beat of many a drum<br />\nThe savage-hearted giants come.<br />\nThe wise who value safety know<br />\nTo meet, prepared, the coming blow:<br />\nIn paths of prudence trained aright<br />\nThey watch the stroke before it smite.<br />\nTake thou thine arrows and thy bow,<br />\nAnd with the Maithil lady go<br />\nFor shelter to the mountain cave<br />\nWhere thickest trees their branches wave.<br />\nI will not have thee, Lakshmaṇ, say<br />\nOne word in answer, but obey.<br />\nBy all thy honour for these feet<br />\nOf mine, dear brother, I entreat.<br />\nThy warlike arm, I know could, smite<br />\nTo death these rovers of the night;<br />\nBut I this day would fight alone<br />\nTill all the fiends be overthrown.”<br />\n[257]<br />\nHe spake: and Lakshmaṇ answered naught:<br />\nHis arrows and his bow he brought,<br />\nAnd then with Sítá following hied<br />\nFor shelter to the mountain side.<br />\nAs Lakshmaṇ and the lady through<br />\nThe forest to the cave withdrew,<br />\n“\'Tis well,” cried Ráma. Then he braced<br />\nHis coat of mail around his waist.<br />\nWhen, bright as blazing fire, upon<br />\nHis mighty limbs that armour shone,<br />\nThe hero stood like some great light<br />\nCanto XXIV. The Host In Sight.<br />\n907<br />\nUprising in the dark of night.<br />\nHis dreadful shafts were by his side;<br />\nHis trusty bow he bent and plied,<br />\nPrepared he stood: the bowstring rang,<br />\nFilling the welkin with the clang.<br />\nThe high-souled Gods together drew<br />\nThe wonder of the fight to view,<br />\nThe saints made free from spot and stain,<br />\nAnd bright Gandharvas\' heavenly train.<br />\nEach glorious sage the assembly sought,<br />\nEach saint divine of loftiest thought,<br />\nAnd filled with zeal for Ráma\'s sake.<br />\nThus they whose deeds were holy spake:<br />\n“Now be it well with Bráhmans, now<br />\nWell with the worlds and every cow!<br />\nLet Ráma in the deadly fray<br />\nThe fiends who walk in darkness slay,<br />\nAs He who bears the discus464slew<br />\nThe chieftains of the Asur crew.”<br />\nThen each with anxious glances viewed<br />\nHis fellow and his speech renewed:<br />\n“There twice seven thousand giants stand<br />\nWith impious heart and cruel hand:<br />\nHere Ráma stands, by virtue known:<br />\nHow can the hero fight alone?”<br />\n464Vishṇu, who bears a chakra or discus.<br />\n908<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThus royal sage and Bráhman saint,<br />\nSpirit, and Virtue free from taint,<br />\nAnd all the Gods of heaven who rode<br />\nOn golden cars, their longing showed.<br />\nTheir hearts with doubt and terror rent,<br />\nThey saw the giants\' armament,<br />\nAnd Ráma clothed in warrior might,<br />\nForth standing in the front of fight.<br />\nLord of the arm no toil might tire,<br />\nHe stood majestic in his ire,<br />\nMatchless in form as Rudra465when<br />\nHis wrath is fierce on Gods or men.<br />\nWhile Gods and saints in close array<br />\nHeld converse of the coming fray,<br />\nThe army of the fiends drew near<br />\nWith sight and sound that counselled fear.<br />\nLong, loud and deep their war-cry pealed,<br />\nAs on they rushed with flag and shield,<br />\nEach, of his proper valour proud,<br />\nUrging to fight the demon crowd.<br />\nHis ponderous bow each warrior tried,<br />\nAnd swelled his bulk with martial pride.<br />\n\'Mid shout and roar and trampling feet,<br />\nAnd thunder of the drums they beat,<br />\nLoud and more loud the tumult went<br />\nThroughout the forest\'s vast extent,<br />\nAnd all the life that moved within<br />\nThe woodland trembled at the din.<br />\nIn eager haste all fled to find<br />\nSome tranquil spot, nor looked behind.<br />\n465Śiva.<br />\nCanto XXIV. The Host In Sight.<br />\n909<br />\nWith every arm of war supplied,<br />\nOn-rushing wildly like the tide<br />\nOf some deep sea, the giant host<br />\nApproached where Ráma kept his post.<br />\nThen he, in battle skilled and tried,<br />\nBent his keen eye on every side,<br />\nAnd viewed the host of Khara face<br />\nTo face before his dwelling-place.<br />\nHe drew his arrows forth, and reared<br />\nAnd strained that bow which foemen feared,<br />\nAnd yielded to the vengeful sway<br />\nOf fierce desire that host to slay.<br />\nTerrific as the ruinous fire<br />\nThat ends the worlds, he glowed in ire,<br />\nAnd his tremendous form dismayed<br />\nThe Gods who roam the forest shade.<br />\nFor in the furious wrath that glowed<br />\nWithin his soul the hero showed<br />\nLike Śiva when his angry might<br />\nStayed Daksha\'s sacrificial rite.466<br />\nLike some great cloud at dawn of day<br />\nWhen first the sun upsprings,<br />\nAnd o\'er the gloomy mass each ray<br />\nA golden radiance flings:<br />\nThus showed the children of the night,<br />\nWhose mail and chariots threw,<br />\nWith gleam of bows and armlets bright,<br />\nFlashes of flamy hue.<br />\n466See Additional Notes—DAKSHA\'S SACRIFICE{FNS.<br />\n910<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nCanto XXV. The Battle.<br />\nWhen Khara with the hosts he led<br />\nDrew near to Ráma\'s leafy shed,<br />\nHe saw that queller of the foe<br />\nStand ready with his ordered bow.<br />\nHe saw, and burning at the view<br />\nHis clanging bow he raised and drew,<br />\nAnd bade his driver urge apace<br />\nHis car to meet him face to face.<br />\nObedient to his master\'s hest<br />\nHis eager steeds the driver pressed<br />\nOn to the spot where, none to aid,<br />\nThe strong-armed chief his weapon swayed.<br />\nSoon as the children of the night<br />\nSaw Khara rushing to the fight,<br />\n[258]<br />\nHis lords with loud unearthly cry<br />\nFollowed their chief and gathered nigh.<br />\nAs in his car the leader rode<br />\nWith all his lords around, he showed<br />\nLike the red planet fiery Mars<br />\nSurrounded by the lesser stars.<br />\nThen with a horrid yell that rent<br />\nThe air, the giant chieftain sent<br />\nA thousand darts in rapid shower<br />\nOn Ráma matchless in his power.<br />\nThe rovers of the night, impelled<br />\nBy fiery rage which naught withheld,<br />\nUpon the unconquered prince, who strained<br />\nHis fearful bow, their arrows rained.<br />\nWith sword and club, with mace and pike,<br />\nWith spear and axe to pierce and strike,<br />\nThose furious fiends on every side<br />\nThe unconquerable hero plied.<br />\nCanto XXV. The Battle.<br />\n911<br />\nThe giant legions huge and strong,<br />\nLike clouds the tempest drives along,<br />\nRushed upon Ráma with the speed<br />\nOf whirling car, and mounted steed,<br />\nAnd hill-like elephant, to slay<br />\nThe matchless prince in battle fray.<br />\nThen upon Ráma thick and fast<br />\nThe rain of mortal steel they cast,<br />\nAs labouring clouds their torrents shed<br />\nUpon the mountain-monarch\'s467head.<br />\nAs near and nearer round him drew<br />\nThe warriors of the giant crew,<br />\nHe showed like Śiva girt by all<br />\nHis spirits when night\'s shadows fall.<br />\nAs the great deep receives each rill<br />\nAnd river rushing from the hill,<br />\nHe bore that flood of darts, and broke<br />\nWith well-aimed shaft each murderous stroke.<br />\nBy stress of arrowy storm assailed,<br />\nAnd wounded sore, he never failed,<br />\nLike some high mountain which defies<br />\nThe red bolts flashing from the skies.<br />\nWith ruddy streams each limb was dyed<br />\nFrom gaping wounds in breast and side,<br />\nShowing the hero like the sun<br />\n\'Mid crimson clouds ere day is done.<br />\nThen, at that sight of terror, faint<br />\nGrew God, Gandharva, sage, and saint,<br />\nTrembling to see the prince oppose<br />\nHis single might to myriad foes.<br />\nBut waxing wroth, with force unspent,<br />\nHe strained his bow to utmost bent,<br />\n467Himálaya.<br />\n912<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd forth his arrows keen and true<br />\nIn hundreds, yea in thousands flew,—<br />\nShafts none could ward, and none endure:<br />\nDeath\'s fatal noose was scarce so sure.<br />\nAs \'twere in playful ease he shot<br />\nHis gilded shafts, and rested not.<br />\nWith swiftest flight and truest aim<br />\nUpon the giant hosts they came.<br />\nEach smote, each stayed a foeman\'s breath<br />\nAs fatal as the coil of Death.<br />\nEach arrow through a giant tore<br />\nA passage, and besmeared with gore,<br />\nPursued its onward way and through<br />\nThe air with flamy brilliance flew.<br />\nUnnumbered were the arrows sent<br />\nFrom the great bow which Ráma bent,<br />\nAnd every shaft with iron head<br />\nThe lifeblood of a giant shed.<br />\nTheir pennoned bows were cleft, nor mail<br />\nNor shield of hide could aught avail.<br />\nFor Ráma\'s myriad arrows tore<br />\nThrough arms, and bracelets which they wore,<br />\nAnd severed mighty warriors\' thighs<br />\nLike trunks of elephants in size,<br />\nAnd cut resistless passage sheer<br />\nThrough gold-decked horse and charioteer,<br />\nSlew elephant and rider, slew<br />\nThe horseman and the charger too,<br />\nAnd infantry unnumbered sent<br />\nTo dwell \'neath Yáma\'s government.<br />\nThen rose on high a fearful yell<br />\nOf rovers of the night, who fell<br />\nBeneath that iron torrent, sore<br />\nWounded by shafts that rent and tore.<br />\nCanto XXV. The Battle.<br />\n913<br />\nSo mangled by the ceaseless storm<br />\nOf shafts of every kind and form,<br />\nSuch joy they found, as forests feel<br />\nWhen scorched by flame, from Ráma\'s steel.<br />\nThe mightiest still the fight maintained,<br />\nAnd furious upon Ráma rained<br />\nDart, arrow, spear, with wild attacks<br />\nOf mace, and club, and battle-axe.<br />\nBut the great chief, unconquered yet,<br />\nTheir weapons with his arrows met,<br />\nWhich severed many a giant\'s head,<br />\nAnd all the plain with corpses spread.<br />\nWith sundered bow and shattered shield<br />\nHeadless they sank upon the field,<br />\nAs the tall trees, that felt the blast<br />\nOf Garuḍ\'s wing, to earth were cast.<br />\nThe giants left unslaughtered there<br />\nWhere filled with terror and despair,<br />\nAnd to their leader Khara fled<br />\nFaint, wounded, and discomfited.<br />\nThese fiery Dúshaṇ strove to cheer,<br />\nAnd poised his bow to calm their fear;<br />\nThen fierce as He who rules the dead,<br />\nWhen wroth, on angered Ráma sped.<br />\nBy Dúshaṇ cheered, the demons cast<br />\nTheir dread aside and rallied fast<br />\nWith Sáls, rocks, palm-trees in their hands<br />\nWith nooses, maces, pikes, and brands,<br />\nAgain upon the godlike man<br />\nThe mighty fiends infuriate ran,<br />\nThese casting rocks like hail, and these<br />\nA whelming shower of leafy trees.<br />\nWild, wondrous fight, the eye to scare,<br />\nAnd raise on end each shuddering hair,<br />\n[259]<br />\n914<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAs with the fiends who loved to rove<br />\nBy night heroic Ráma strove!<br />\nThe giants in their fury plied<br />\nRáma with darts on every side.<br />\nThen, by the gathering demons pressed<br />\nFrom north and south and east and west,<br />\nBy showers of deadly darts assailed<br />\nFrom every quarter fiercely hailed,<br />\nGirt by the foes who swarmed around,<br />\nHe raised a mighty shout whose sound<br />\nStruck terror. On the giant crew<br />\nHis great Gandharva468arrow flew.<br />\nA thousand mortal shafts were rained<br />\nFrom the orbed bow the hero strained,<br />\nTill east and west and south and north<br />\nWere filled with arrows volleyed forth.<br />\nThey heard the fearful shout: they saw<br />\nHis mighty hand the bowstring draw,<br />\nYet could no wounded giant\'s eye<br />\nSee the swift storm of arrows fly.<br />\nStill firm the warrior stood and cast<br />\nHis deadly missiles thick and fast.<br />\nDark grew the air with arrowy hail<br />\nWhich hid the sun as with a veil.<br />\nFiends wounded, falling, fallen, slain,<br />\nAll in a moment, spread the plain,<br />\nAnd thousands scarce alive were left<br />\nMangled, and gashed, and torn, and cleft.<br />\nDire was the sight, the plain o\'erspread<br />\nWith trophies of the mangled dead.<br />\nThere lay, by Ráma\'s missiles rent,<br />\nFull many a priceless ornament,<br />\n468One of the mysterious weapons given to Ráma.<br />\nCanto XXVI. Dúshan\'s Death.<br />\n915<br />\nWith severed limb and broken gem,<br />\nHauberk and helm and diadem.<br />\nThere lay the shattered car, the steed,<br />\nThe elephant of noblest breed,<br />\nThe splintered spear, the shivered mace,<br />\nChouris and screens to shade the face.<br />\nThe giants saw with bitterest pain<br />\nTheir warriors weltering on the plain,<br />\nNor dared again his might oppose<br />\nWho scourged the cities of his foes.<br />\nCanto XXVI. Dúshan\'s Death.<br />\nWhen Dúshaṇ saw his giant band<br />\nSlaughtered by Ráma\'s conquering hand,<br />\nHe called five thousand fiends, and gave<br />\nHis orders. Bravest of the brave,<br />\nInvincible, of furious might,<br />\nNe\'er had they turned their backs in flight.<br />\nThey, as their leader bade them seize<br />\nSpears, swords, and clubs, and rocks, and trees,<br />\nPoured on the dauntless prince again<br />\nA ceaseless shower of deadly rain.<br />\nThe virtuous Ráma, undismayed,<br />\nTheir missiles with his arrows stayed,<br />\nAnd weakened, ere it fell, the shock<br />\nOf that dire hail of tree and rock,<br />\nAnd like a bull with eyelids closed,<br />\nThe pelting of the storm opposed.<br />\n916<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThen blazed his ire: he longed to smite<br />\nTo earth the rovers of the night.<br />\nThe wrath that o\'er his spirit came<br />\nClothed him with splendour as of flame,<br />\nWhile showers of mortal darts he poured<br />\nFierce on the giants and their lord.<br />\nDúshaṇ, the foeman\'s dusky dread,<br />\nBy frenzied rage inspirited,<br />\nOn Raghu\'s son his missiles cast<br />\nLike Indra\'s bolts which rend and blast.<br />\nBut Ráma with a trenchant dart<br />\nCleft Dúshaṇ\'s ponderous bow apart.<br />\nAnd then the gold-decked steeds who drew<br />\nThe chariot, with four shafts he slew.<br />\nOne crescent dart he aimed which shred<br />\nClean from his neck the driver\'s head;<br />\nThree more with deadly skill addressed<br />\nStood quivering in the giant\'s breast.<br />\nHurled from his car, steeds, driver slain,<br />\nThe bow he trusted cleft in twain,<br />\nHe seized his mace, strong, heavy, dread,<br />\nHigh as a mountain\'s towering head.<br />\nWith plates of gold adorned and bound,<br />\nEmbattled Gods it crushed and ground.<br />\nIts iron spikes yet bore the stains<br />\nOf mangled foemen\'s blood and brains.<br />\nIts heavy mass of jagged steel<br />\nWas like a thunderbolt to feel.<br />\nIt shattered, as on foes it fell,<br />\nThe city where the senses dwell.469<br />\nFierce Dúshaṇ seized that ponderous mace<br />\nLike monstrous form of serpent race,<br />\n469A periphrasis for the body.<br />\nCanto XXVI. Dúshan\'s Death.<br />\n917<br />\nAnd all his savage soul aglow<br />\nWith fury, rushed upon the foe.<br />\nBut Raghu\'s son took steady aim,<br />\nAnd as the rushing giant came,<br />\nShore with two shafts the arms whereon<br />\nThe demon\'s glittering bracelets shone.<br />\nHis arm at each huge shoulder lopped,<br />\nThe mighty body reeled and dropped,<br />\nAnd the great mace to earth was thrown<br />\nLike Indra\'s staff when storms have blown.<br />\nAs some vast elephant who lies<br />\nShorn of his tusks, and bleeding dies,<br />\nSo, when his arms were rent away,<br />\nLow on the ground the giant lay.<br />\nThe spirits saw the monster die,<br />\nAnd loudly rang their joyful cry,<br />\n“Honour to Ráma! nobly done!<br />\nWell hast thou fought, Kakutstha\'s son!”<br />\n[260]<br />\nBut the great three, the host who led,<br />\nEnraged to see their chieftain dead,<br />\nAs though Death\'s toils were round them cast,<br />\nRushed upon Ráma fierce and fast,<br />\nMahákapála seized, to strike<br />\nHis foeman down, a ponderous pike:<br />\nSthúláksha charged with spear to fling,<br />\nPramáthi with his axe to swing.<br />\nWhen Ráma saw, with keen darts he<br />\nReceived the onset of the three,<br />\nAs calm as though he hailed a guest<br />\nIn each, who came for shade and rest.<br />\nMahákapála\'s monstrous head<br />\nFell with the trenchant dart he sped.<br />\nHis good right hand in battle skilled<br />\nSthúláksha\'s eyes with arrows filled,<br />\n918<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd trusting still his ready bow<br />\nHe laid the fierce Pramáthi low,<br />\nWho sank as some tall tree falls down<br />\nWith bough and branch and leafy crown.<br />\nThen with five thousand shafts he slew<br />\nThe rest of Dúshaṇ\'s giant crew:<br />\nFive thousand demons, torn and rent,<br />\nTo Yáma\'s gloomy realm he sent.<br />\nWhen Khara knew the fate of all<br />\nThe giant band and Dúshaṇ\'s fall,<br />\nHe called the mighty chiefs who led<br />\nHis army, and in fury said:<br />\n“Now Dúshaṇ and his armèd train<br />\nLie prostrate on the battle plain.<br />\nLead forth an army mightier still,<br />\nRáma this wretched man, to kill.<br />\nFight ye with darts of every shape,<br />\nNor let him from your wrath escape.”<br />\nThus spoke the fiend, by rage impelled,<br />\nAnd straight his course toward Ráma held.<br />\nWith Śyenagámí and the rest<br />\nOf his twelve chiefs he onward pressed,<br />\nAnd every giant as he went<br />\nA storm of well-wrought arrows sent.<br />\nThen with his pointed shafts that came<br />\nWith gold and diamond bright as flame,<br />\nDead to the earth the hero threw<br />\nThe remnant of the demon crew.<br />\nThose shafts with feathers bright as gold,<br />\nLike flames which wreaths of smoke enfold,<br />\nSmote down the fiends like tall trees rent<br />\nBy red bolts from the firmament.<br />\nCanto XXVI. Dúshan\'s Death.<br />\n919<br />\nA hundred shafts he pointed well:<br />\nBy their keen barbs a hundred fell:<br />\nA thousand,—and a thousand more<br />\nIn battle\'s front lay drenched in gore.<br />\nOf all defence and guard bereft,<br />\nWith sundered bows and harness cleft.<br />\nTheir bodies red with bloody stain<br />\nFell the night-rovers on the plain,<br />\nWhich, covered with the loosened hair<br />\nOf bleeding giants prostrate there,<br />\nLike some great altar showed, arrayed<br />\nFor holy rites with grass o\'erlaid.<br />\nThe darksome wood, each glade and dell<br />\nWhere the wild demons fought and fell<br />\nWas like an awful hell whose floor<br />\nIs thick with mire and flesh and gore.<br />\nThus twice seven thousand fiends, a band<br />\nWith impious heart and bloody hand,<br />\nBy Raghu\'s son were overthrown,<br />\nA man, on foot, and all alone.<br />\nOf all who met on that fierce day,<br />\nKhara, great chief, survived the fray,<br />\nThe monster of the triple head,470<br />\nAnd Raghu\'s son, the foeman\'s dread.<br />\nThe other demon warriors, all<br />\nSkilful and brave and strong and tall,<br />\nIn front of battle, side by side,<br />\nStruck down by Lakshmaṇ\'s brother died.<br />\nWhen Khara saw the host he led<br />\nTriumphant forth to fight<br />\nStretched on the earth, all smitten dead,<br />\nBy Ráma\'s nobler might,<br />\n470Triśirás.<br />\n920<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nUpon his foe he fiercely glared,<br />\nAnd drove against him fast,<br />\nLike Indra when his arm is bared<br />\nHis thundering bolt to cast.<br />\nCanto XXVII. The Death Of Trisirás.<br />\nBut Triśirás,471a chieftain dread,<br />\nMarked Khara as he onward sped.<br />\nAnd met his car and cried, to stay<br />\nThe giant from the purposed fray:<br />\n“Mine be the charge: let me attack,<br />\nAnd turn thee from the contest back.<br />\nLet me go forth, and thou shalt see<br />\nThe strong-armed Ráma slain by me.<br />\nTrue are the words I speak, my lord:<br />\nI swear it as I touch my sword:<br />\nThat I this Ráma\'s blood will spill,<br />\nWhom every giant\'s hand should kill.<br />\nThis Ráma will I slay, or he<br />\nIn battle fray shall conquer me.<br />\nRestrain thy spirit: check thy car,<br />\nAnd view the combat from afar.<br />\nThou, joying o\'er the prostrate foe,<br />\nTo Janasthán again shalt go,<br />\nOr, if I fall in battle\'s chance,<br />\nAgainst my conqueror advance.”<br />\n471The Three-headed.<br />\nCanto XXVII. The Death Of Trisirás.<br />\n921<br />\nThus Triśirás for death who yearned:<br />\nAnd Khara from the conflict turned,<br />\n“Go forth to battle,” Khara cried;<br />\nAnd toward his foe the giant hied.<br />\nBorne on a car of glittering hue<br />\nWhich harnessed coursers fleetly drew,<br />\nLike some huge hill with triple peak<br />\nHe onward rushed the prince to seek.<br />\n[261]<br />\nStill, like a big cloud, sending out<br />\nHis arrowy rain with many a shout<br />\nLike the deep sullen roars that come<br />\nDiscordant from a moistened drum.<br />\nBut Raghu\'s son, whose watchful eye<br />\nBeheld the demon rushing nigh,<br />\nFrom the great bow he raised and bent<br />\nA shower of shafts to meet him sent.<br />\nWild grew the fight and wilder yet<br />\nAs fiend and man in combat met,<br />\nAs when in some dark wood\'s retreat<br />\nAn elephant and a lion meet.<br />\nThe giant bent his bow, and true<br />\nTo Ráma\'s brow three arrows flew.<br />\nThen, raging as he felt the stroke,<br />\nThese words in anger Ráma spoke:<br />\n“Heroic chief! is such the power<br />\nOf fiends who rove at midnight hour?<br />\nSoft as the touch of flowers I feel<br />\nThe gentle blows thine arrows deal.<br />\nReceive in turn my shafts, and know<br />\nWhat arrows fly from Ráma\'s bow.”<br />\nThus as he spoke his wrath grew hot,<br />\nAnd twice seven deadly shafts he shot,<br />\nWhich, dire as serpent\'s deadly fang,<br />\n922<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nStraight to the giant\'s bosom sprang.<br />\nFour arrows more,—each shaped to deal<br />\nA mortal wound with barbèd steel,—<br />\nThe glorious hero shot, and slew<br />\nThe four good steeds the car that drew.<br />\nEight other shafts flew straight and fleet,<br />\nAnd hurled the driver from his seat,<br />\nAnd in the dust the banner laid<br />\nThat proudly o\'er the chariot played.<br />\nThen as the fiend prepared to bound<br />\nForth from his useless car to ground,<br />\nThe hero smote him to the heart,<br />\nAnd numbed his arm with deadly smart.<br />\nAgain the chieftain, peerless-souled,<br />\nSent forth three rapid darts, and rolled<br />\nWith each keen arrow, deftly sped,<br />\nLow in the dust a monstrous head.<br />\nThen yielding to each deadly stroke,<br />\nForth spouting streams of blood and smoke,<br />\nThe headless trunk bedrenched with gore<br />\nFell to the ground and moved no more.<br />\nThe fiends who yet were left with life,<br />\nRouted and crushed in battle strife,<br />\nTo Khara\'s side, like trembling deer<br />\nScared by the hunter, fled in fear.<br />\nKing Khara saw with furious eye<br />\nHis scattered giants turn and fly;<br />\nThen rallying his broken train<br />\nAt Raghu\'s son he drove amain,<br />\nLike Ráhu472when his deadly might<br />\nComes rushing on the Lord of Night.<br />\n472The demon who causes eclipses.<br />\nCanto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.<br />\n923<br />\nCanto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.<br />\nBut when he turned his eye where bled<br />\nBoth Triśirás and Dúshaṇ dead,<br />\nFear o\'er the giant\'s spirit came<br />\nOf Ráma\'s might which naught could tame.<br />\nHe saw his savage legions, those<br />\nWhose force no creature dared oppose,—<br />\nHe saw the leader of his train<br />\nBy Ráma\'s single prowess slain.<br />\nWith burning grief he marked the few<br />\nStill left him of his giant crew.<br />\nAs Namuchi473on Indra, so<br />\nRushed the dread demon on his foe.<br />\nHis mighty bow the monster strained,<br />\nAnd angrily on Ráma rained<br />\nHis mortal arrows in a flood,<br />\nLike serpent fangs athirst for blood.<br />\nSkilled in the bowman\'s warlike art,<br />\nHe plied the string and poised the dart.<br />\nHere, on his car, and there, he rode,<br />\nAnd passages of battle showed,<br />\nWhile all the skyey regions grew<br />\nDark with his arrows as they flew.<br />\nThen Ráma seized his ponderous bow,<br />\nAnd straight the heaven was all aglow<br />\nWith shafts whose stroke no life might bear<br />\nThat filled with flash and flame the air,<br />\n473“This Asura was a friend of Indra, and taking advantage of his friend\'s<br />\nconfidence, he drank up Indra\'s strength along with a draught of wine and<br />\nSoma. Indra then told the Aśvins and Sarasvatí that Namuchi had drunk up<br />\nhis strength. The Aśvins in consequence gave Indra a thunderbolt in the form<br />\nof a foam, with which he smote off the head of Namuchi.” GARRETT\'S{FNS<br />\nClassical Dictionary of India. See also Book I. p. 39.<br />\n924<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThick as the blinding torrents sent<br />\nDown from Parjanya\'s474firmament.<br />\nIn space itself no space remained,<br />\nBut all was filled with arrows rained<br />\nIncessantly from each great bow<br />\nWielded by Ráma and his foe.<br />\nAs thus in furious combat, wrought<br />\nTo mortal hate, the warriors fought,<br />\nThe sun himself grew faint and pale,<br />\nObscured behind that arrowy veil.<br />\nAs when beneath the driver\'s steel<br />\nAn elephant is forced to kneel,<br />\nSo from the hard and pointed head<br />\nOf many an arrow Ráma bled.<br />\nHigh on his car the giant rose<br />\nPrepared in deadly strife to close,<br />\n[262]<br />\nAnd all the spirits saw him stand<br />\nLike Yáma with his noose in hand.<br />\nFor Khara deemed in senseless pride<br />\nThat he, beneath whose hand had died<br />\nThe giant legions, failed at length<br />\nSlow sinking with exhausted strength.<br />\nBut Ráma, like a lion, when<br />\nA trembling deer comes nigh his den,<br />\nFeared not the demon mad with hate,—<br />\nOf lion might and lion gait.<br />\nThen in his lofty car that glowed<br />\nWith sunlike brilliance Khara rode<br />\nAt Ráma: madly on he came<br />\nLike a poor moth that seeks the flame.<br />\nHis archer skill the fiend displayed,<br />\nAnd at the place where Ráma laid<br />\n474Indra.<br />\nCanto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.<br />\n925<br />\nHis hand, an arrow cleft in two<br />\nThe mighty bow the hero drew.<br />\nSeven arrows by the giant sent,<br />\nBright as the bolts of Indra, rent<br />\nTheir way through mail and harness joints,<br />\nAnd pierced him with their iron points.<br />\nOn Ráma, hero unsurpassed,<br />\nA thousand shafts smote thick and fast,<br />\nWhile as each missile struck, rang out<br />\nThe giant\'s awful battle-shout.<br />\nHis knotted arrows pierced and tore<br />\nThe sunbright mail the hero wore,<br />\nTill, band and buckle rent away,<br />\nGlittering on the ground it lay.<br />\nThen pierced in shoulder, breast, and side,<br />\nTill every limb with blood was dyed,<br />\nThe chieftain in majestic ire<br />\nShone glorious as the smokeless fire.<br />\nThen loud and long the war-cry rose<br />\nOf Ráma, terror of his foes,<br />\nAs, on the giant\'s death intent,<br />\nA ponderous bow he strung and bent,—<br />\nLord Vishṇu\'s own, of wondrous size,—<br />\nAgastya gave the heavenly prize.<br />\nThen rushing on the demon foe,<br />\nHe raised on high that mighty bow,<br />\nAnd with his well-wrought shafts, whereon<br />\nBright gold between the feathers shone,<br />\nHe struck the pennon fluttering o\'er<br />\nThe chariot, and it waved no more.<br />\nThat glorious flag whose every fold<br />\nWas rich with blazonry and gold,<br />\nFell as the sun himself by all<br />\nThe Gods\' decree might earthward fall.<br />\n926<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nFrom wrathful Khara\'s hand, whose art<br />\nWell knew each vulnerable part,<br />\nFour keenly-piercing arrows flew,<br />\nAnd blood in Ráma\'s bosom drew,<br />\nWith every limb distained with gore<br />\nFrom deadly shafts which rent and tore,<br />\nFrom Khara\'s clanging bowstring shots,<br />\nThe prince\'s wrath waxed wondrous hot.<br />\nHis hand upon his bow that best<br />\nOf mighty archers firmly pressed,<br />\nAnd from the well-drawn bowstring, true<br />\nEach to its mark, six arrows flew.<br />\nOne quivered in the giant\'s head,<br />\nWith two his brawny shoulders bled;<br />\nThree, with the crescent heads they bore,<br />\nDeep in his breast a passage tore.<br />\nThirteen, to which the stone had lent<br />\nThe keenest point, were swiftly sent<br />\nOn the fierce giant, every one<br />\nDestructive, gleaming like the sun.<br />\nWith four the dappled steeds he slew;<br />\nOne cleft the chariot yoke in two,<br />\nOne, in the heat of battle sped,<br />\nSmote from the neck the driver\'s head.<br />\nThe poles were rent apart by three;<br />\nTwo broke the splintered axle-tree.<br />\nThen from the hand of Ráma, while<br />\nAcross his lips there came a smile,<br />\nThe twelfth, like thunderbolt impelled,<br />\nCut the great hand and bow it held.<br />\nThen, scarce by Indra\'s self surpassed,<br />\nHe pierced the giant with the last.<br />\nThe bow he trusted cleft in twain,<br />\nHis driver and his horses slain,<br />\nCanto XXIX. Khara\'s Defeat.<br />\n927<br />\nDown sprang the giant, mace in hand,<br />\nOn foot against the foe to stand.<br />\nThe Gods and saints in bright array<br />\nClose gathered in the skies,<br />\nThe prince\'s might in battle-fray<br />\nBeheld with joyful eyes.<br />\nUprising from their golden seats,<br />\nTheir hands in honour raised,<br />\nThey looked on Ráma\'s noble feats,<br />\nAnd blessed him as they praised.<br />\nCanto XXIX. Khara\'s Defeat.<br />\nWhen Ráma saw the giant nigh,<br />\nOn foot, alone, with mace reared high,<br />\nIn mild reproof at first he spoke,<br />\nThen forth his threatening anger broke:<br />\n“Thou with the host \'twas thine to lead,<br />\nWith elephant and car and steed,<br />\nHast wrought an act of sin and shame,<br />\nAn act which all who live must blame.<br />\nKnow that the wretch whose evil mind<br />\nJoys in the grief of human kind,<br />\nThough the three worlds confess him lord,<br />\nMust perish dreaded and abhorred.<br />\nNight-rover, when a villain\'s deeds<br />\nDistress the world he little heeds,<br />\nEach hand is armed his life to take,<br />\nAnd crush him like a deadly snake.<br />\nThe end is near when men begin<br />\nThrough greed or lust a life of sin,<br />\n928<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nE\'en as a Bráhman\'s dame, unwise,<br />\nEats of the fallen hail475and dies.<br />\n[263]<br />\nThy hand has slain the pure and good,<br />\nThe hermit saints of Daṇḍak wood,<br />\nOf holy life, the heirs of bliss;<br />\nAnd thou shalt reap the fruit of this.<br />\nNot long shall they whose cruel breasts<br />\nJoy in the sin the world detests<br />\nRetain their guilty power and pride,<br />\nBut fade like trees whose roots are dried.<br />\nYes, as the seasons come and go,<br />\nEach tree its kindly fruit must show,<br />\nAnd sinners reap in fitting time<br />\nThe harvest of each earlier crime.<br />\nAs those must surely die who eat<br />\nUnwittingly of poisoned meat,<br />\nThey too whose lives in sin are spent<br />\nReceive ere long the punishment.<br />\nAnd know, thou rover of the night,<br />\nThat I, a king, am sent to smite<br />\nThe wicked down, who court the hate<br />\nOf men whose laws they violate.<br />\nThis day my vengeful hand shall send<br />\nShafts bright with gold to tear and rend,<br />\nAnd pass with fury through thy breast<br />\nAs serpents pierce an emmet\'s nest.<br />\nThou with thy host this day shalt be<br />\nAmong the dead below, and see<br />\nThe saints beneath thy hand who bled,<br />\nWhose flesh thy cruel maw has fed.<br />\nThey, glorious on their seats of gold,<br />\nTheir slayer shall in hell behold.<br />\n475Popularly supposed to cause death.<br />\nCanto XXIX. Khara\'s Defeat.<br />\n929<br />\nFight with all strength thou callest thine,<br />\nMean scion of ignoble line,<br />\nStill, like the palm-tree\'s fruit, this day<br />\nMy shafts thy head in dust shall lay.”<br />\nSuch were the words that Ráma said:<br />\nThen Khara\'s eyes with wrath glowed red,<br />\nWho, maddened by the rage that burned<br />\nWithin him, with a smile returned:<br />\n“Thou Daśaratha\'s son, hast slain<br />\nThe meaner giants of my train:<br />\nAnd canst thou idly vaunt thy might<br />\nAnd claim the praise not thine by right?<br />\nNot thus in self-laudation rave<br />\nThe truly great, the nobly brave:<br />\nNo empty boasts like thine disgrace<br />\nThe foremost of the human race.<br />\nThe mean of soul, unknown to fame,<br />\nWho taint their warrior race with shame,<br />\nThus speak in senseless pride as thou,<br />\nO Raghu\'s son, hast boasted now.<br />\nWhat hero, when the war-cry rings,<br />\nVaunts the high race from which he springs,<br />\nOr seeks, when warriors meet and die,<br />\nHis own descent to glorify?<br />\nWeakness and folly show confessed<br />\nIn every vaunt thou utterest,<br />\nAs when the flames fed high with grass<br />\nDetect the simulating brass.<br />\nDost thou not see me standing here<br />\nArmed with the mighty mace I rear,<br />\nFirm as an earth upholding hill<br />\nWhose summit veins of metal fill?<br />\n930<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nLo, here I stand before thy face<br />\nTo slay thee with my murderous mace,<br />\nAs Death, the universal lord,<br />\nStands threatening with his fatal cord.<br />\nEnough of this. Much more remains<br />\nThat should be said: but time constrains.<br />\nEre to his rest the sun descend,<br />\nAnd shades of night the combat end,<br />\nThe twice seven thousand of my band<br />\nWho fell beneath thy bloody hand<br />\nShall have their tears all wiped away<br />\nAnd triumph in thy fall to-day.”<br />\nHe spoke, and loosing from his hold<br />\nHis mighty mace ringed round with gold,<br />\nLike some red bolt alive with fire<br />\nHurled it at Ráma, mad with ire.<br />\nThe ponderous mace which Khara threw<br />\nSent fiery flashes as it flew.<br />\nTrees, shrubs were scorched beneath the blast,<br />\nAs onward to its aim it passed.<br />\nBut Ráma, watching as it sped<br />\nDire as His noose who rules the dead,<br />\nCleft it with arrows as it came<br />\nOn rushing with a hiss and flame.<br />\nIts fury spent and burnt away,<br />\nHarmless upon the ground it lay<br />\nLike a great snake in furious mood<br />\nBy herbs of numbing power subdued.<br />\nCanto XXX. Khara\'s Death.<br />\n931<br />\nCanto XXX. Khara\'s Death.<br />\nWhen Ráma, pride of Raghu\'s race,<br />\nVirtue\'s dear son, had cleft the mace,<br />\nThus with superior smile the best<br />\nOf chiefs the furious fiend addressed:<br />\n“Thou, worst of giant blood, at length<br />\nHast shown the utmost of thy strength,<br />\nAnd forced by greater might to bow,<br />\nThy vaunting threats are idle now.<br />\nMy shafts have cut thy club in twain:<br />\nUseless it lies upon the plain,<br />\nAnd all thy pride and haughty trust<br />\nLie with it levelled in the dust.<br />\nThe words that thou hast said to-day,<br />\nThat thou wouldst wipe the tears away<br />\nOf all the giants I have slain,<br />\nMy deeds shall render void and vain.<br />\nThou meanest of the giants\' breed,<br />\nEvil in thought and word and deed,<br />\nMy hand shall take that life of thine<br />\nAs Garuḍ476seized the juice divine.<br />\n[264]<br />\nThou, rent by shafts, this day shalt die:<br />\nLow on the ground thy corse shall lie,<br />\nAnd bubbles from the cloven neck<br />\nWith froth and blood thy skin shall deck.<br />\nWith dust and mire all rudely dyed,<br />\nThy torn arms lying by thy side,<br />\nWhile streams of blood each limb shall steep,<br />\nThou on earth\'s breast shalt take thy sleep<br />\n476Garuḍ, the King of Birds, carried off the Amrit or drink of Paradise from<br />\nIndra\'s custody.<br />\n932<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nLike a fond lover when he strains<br />\nThe beauty whom at length he gains.<br />\nNow when thy heavy eyelids close<br />\nFor ever in thy deep repose,<br />\nAgain shall Daṇḍak forest be<br />\nSafe refuge for the devotee.<br />\nThou slain, and all thy race who held<br />\nThe realm of Janasthán expelled,<br />\nAgain shall happy hermits rove,<br />\nFearing no danger, through the grove.<br />\nWithin those bounds, their brethren slain,<br />\nNo giant shall this day remain,<br />\nBut all shall fly with many a tear<br />\nAnd fearing, rid the saints of fear.<br />\nThis bitter day shall misery bring<br />\nOn all the race that calls thee king.<br />\nFierce as their lord, thy dames shall know,<br />\nBereft of joys, the taste of woe.<br />\nBase, cruel wretch, of evil mind,<br />\nPlaguer of Bráhmans and mankind,<br />\nWith trembling hands each devotee<br />\nFeeds holy fires in dread of thee.”<br />\nThus with wild fury unrepressed<br />\nRaghu\'s brave son the fiend addressed;<br />\nAnd Khara, as his wrath grew high,<br />\nThus thundered forth his fierce reply:<br />\n“By senseless pride to madness wrought,<br />\nBy danger girt thou fearest naught,<br />\nNor heedest, numbered with the dead,<br />\nWhat thou shouldst say and leave unsaid.<br />\nWhen Fate\'s tremendous coils enfold<br />\nThe captive in resistless hold,<br />\nCanto XXX. Khara\'s Death.<br />\n933<br />\nHe knows not right from wrong, each sense<br />\nNumbed by that deadly influence.”<br />\nHe spoke, and when his speech was done<br />\nBent his fierce brows on Raghu\'s son.<br />\nWith eager eyes he looked around<br />\nIf lethal arms might yet be found.<br />\nNot far away and full in view<br />\nA Sál-tree towering upward grew.<br />\nHis lips in mighty strain compressed,<br />\nHe tore it up with root and crest,<br />\nWith huge arms waved it o\'er his head<br />\nAnd hurled it shouting, Thou art dead.<br />\nBut Ráma, unsurpassed in might,<br />\nStayed with his shafts its onward flight,<br />\nAnd furious longing seized his soul<br />\nThe giant in the dust to roll.<br />\nGreat drops of sweat each limb bedewed,<br />\nHis red eyes showed his wrathful mood.<br />\nA thousand arrows, swiftly sent,<br />\nThe giant\'s bosom tore and rent.<br />\nFrom every gash his body showed<br />\nThe blood in foamy torrents flowed,<br />\nAs springing from their caverns leap<br />\nSwift rivers down the mountain steep.<br />\nWhen Khara felt each deadened power<br />\nYielding beneath that murderous shower,<br />\nHe charged, infuriate with the scent<br />\nOf blood, in dire bewilderment.<br />\nBut Ráma watched, with ready bow,<br />\nThe onset of his bleeding foe,<br />\nAnd ere the monster reached him, drew<br />\nBackward in haste a yard or two.<br />\nThen from his side a shaft he took<br />\n934<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWhose mortal stroke no life might brook:<br />\nOf peerless might, it bore the name<br />\nOf Brahmá\'s staff, and glowed with flame:<br />\nLord Indra, ruler of the skies,<br />\nHimself had given the glorious prize.<br />\nHis bow the virtuous hero drew,<br />\nAnd at the fiend the arrow flew.<br />\nHissing and roaring like the blast<br />\nOf tempest through the air it passed,<br />\nAnd fixed, by Ráma\'s vigour sped,<br />\nIn the foe\'s breast its pointed head.<br />\nThen fell the fiend: the quenchless flame<br />\nBurnt furious in his wounded frame.<br />\nSo burnt by Rudra Andhak477fell<br />\nIn Śvetáraṇya\'s silvery dell:<br />\nSo Namuchi and Vritra478died<br />\nBy steaming bolts that tamed their pride:<br />\nSo Bala479fell by lightning sent<br />\nBy Him who rules the firmament.<br />\nThen all the Gods in close array<br />\nWith the bright hosts who sing and play,<br />\nFilled full of rapture and amaze,<br />\nSang hymns of joy in Ráma\'s praise,<br />\nBeat their celestial drums and shed<br />\nRain of sweet flowers upon his head.<br />\nFor three short hours had scarcely flown,<br />\nAnd by his pointed shafts o\'erthrown<br />\nThe twice seven thousand fiends, whose will<br />\n477A demon, son of Kaśyap and Diti, slain by Rudra or Śiva when he attempted<br />\nto carry off the tree of Paradise.<br />\n478Namuchi and Vritra were two demons slain by Indra. Vritra personifies<br />\ndrought, the enemy of Indra, who imprisons the rain in the cloud.<br />\n479Another demon slain by Indra.<br />\nCanto XXX. Khara\'s Death.<br />\n935<br />\nCould change their shapes, in death were still,<br />\nWith Triśirás and Dúshaṇ slain,<br />\nAnd Khara, leader of the train.<br />\n“O wondrous deed,” the bards began,<br />\n“The noblest deed of virtuous man!<br />\nHeroic strength that stood alone,<br />\nAnd firmness e\'en as Vishṇu\'s own!”<br />\nThus having sung, the shining train<br />\nTurned to their heavenly homes again.<br />\n[265]<br />\nThen the high saints of royal race<br />\nAnd loftiest station sought the place,<br />\nAnd by the great Agastya led,<br />\nWith reverence to Ráma said:<br />\n“For this, Lord Indra, glorious sire,<br />\nMajestic as the burning fire,<br />\nWho crushes cities in his rage,<br />\nSought Śarabhanga\'s hermitage.<br />\nThou wast, this great design to aid,<br />\nLed by the saints to seek this shade,<br />\nAnd with thy mighty arm to kill<br />\nThe giants who delight in ill.<br />\nThou Daśaratha\'s noble son,<br />\nThe battle for our sake hast won,<br />\nAnd saints in Daṇḍak\'s wild who live<br />\nTheir days to holy tasks can give.”<br />\n936<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nForth from the mountain cavern came<br />\nThe hero Lakshmaṇ with the dame.<br />\nAnd rapture beaming from his face,<br />\nResought the hermit dwelling-place.<br />\nThen when the mighty saints had paid<br />\nDue honour for the victor\'s aid,<br />\nThe glorious Ráma honoured too<br />\nBy Lakshmaṇ to his cot withdrew.<br />\nWhen Sítá looked upon her lord,<br />\nHis foemen slain, the saints restored,<br />\nIn pride and rapture uncontrolled<br />\nShe clasped him in her loving hold.<br />\nOn the dead fiends her glances fell:<br />\nShe saw her lord alive and well,<br />\nVictorious after toil and pain,<br />\nAnd Janak\'s child was blest again.<br />\nOnce more, once more with new delight<br />\nHer tender arms she threw<br />\nRound Ráma whose victorious might<br />\nHad crushed the demon crew.<br />\nThen as his grateful reverence paid<br />\nEach saint of lofty soul,<br />\nO\'er her sweet face, all fears allayed,<br />\nThe flush of transport stole.<br />\nCanto XXXI. Rávan.<br />\nBut of the host of giants one,<br />\nAkampan, from the field had run<br />\nAnd sped to Lanká480to relate<br />\n480The capital of the giant king Rávaṇ.<br />\nCanto XXXI. Rávan.<br />\n937<br />\nIn Rávaṇ\'s ear the demons\' fate:<br />\n“King, many a giant from the shade<br />\nOf Janasthán in death is laid:<br />\nKhara the chief is slain, and I<br />\nCould scarcely from the battle fly.”<br />\nFierce anger, as the monarch heard,<br />\nInflamed his look, his bosom stirred,<br />\nAnd while with scorching glance he eyed<br />\nThe messenger, he thus replied:<br />\n“What fool has dared, already dead,<br />\nStrike Janasthán, the general dread?<br />\nWho is the wretch shall vainly try<br />\nIn earth, heaven, hell, from me to fly?<br />\nVaiśravaṇ,481Indra, Vishṇu, He<br />\nWho rules the dead, must reverence me;<br />\nFor not the mightiest lord of these<br />\nCan brave my will and live at ease.<br />\nFate finds in me a mightier fate<br />\nTo burn the fires that devastate.<br />\nWith unresisted influence I<br />\nCan force e\'en Death himself to die,<br />\nWith all-surpassing might restrain<br />\nThe fury of the hurricane,<br />\nAnd burn in my tremendous ire<br />\nThe glory of the sun and fire.”<br />\n481Kuvera, the God of gold.<br />\n938<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAs thus the fiend\'s hot fury blazed,<br />\nHis trembling hands Akampan raised,<br />\nAnd with a voice which fear made weak,<br />\nPermission craved his tale to speak.<br />\nKing Rávaṇ gave the leave he sought,<br />\nAnd bade him tell the news he brought.<br />\nHis courage rose, his voice grew bold,<br />\nAnd thus his mournful tale he told:<br />\n“A prince with mighty shoulders, sprung<br />\nFrom Daśaratha, brave and young,<br />\nWith arms well moulded, bears the name<br />\nOf Ráma with a lion\'s frame.<br />\nRenowned, successful, dark of limb,<br />\nEarth has no warrior equals him.<br />\nHe fought in Janasthán and slew<br />\nDúshaṇ the fierce and Khara too.”<br />\nRávaṇ the giants\' royal chief.<br />\nReceived Akampan\'s tale of grief.<br />\nThen, panting like an angry snake,<br />\nThese words in turn the monarch spake:<br />\n“Say quick, did Ráma seek the shade<br />\nOf Janasthán with Indra\'s aid,<br />\nAnd all the dwellers in the skies<br />\nTo back his hardy enterprise?”<br />\nAkampan heard, and straight obeyed<br />\nHis master, and his answer made.<br />\nThen thus the power and might he told<br />\nOf Raghu\'s son the lofty-souled:<br />\nCanto XXXI. Rávan.<br />\n939<br />\n“Best is that chief of all who know<br />\nWith deftest art to draw the bow.<br />\nHis are strange arms of heavenly might,<br />\nAnd none can match him in the fight.<br />\nHis brother Lakshmaṇ brave as he,<br />\nFair as the rounded moon to see,<br />\nWith eyes like night and voice that comes<br />\nDeep as the roll of beaten drums,<br />\nBy Ráma\'s side stands ever near,<br />\nLike wind that aids the flame\'s career.<br />\nThat glorious chief, that prince of kings,<br />\nOn Janasthán this ruin brings.<br />\nNo Gods were there,—dismiss the thought<br />\nNo heavenly legions came and fought.<br />\nHis swift-winged arrows Ráma sent,<br />\nEach bright with gold and ornament.<br />\nTo serpents many-faced they turned:<br />\n[266]<br />\nThe giant hosts they ate and burned.<br />\nWhere\'er these fled in wild dismay<br />\nRáma was there to strike and slay.<br />\nBy him O King of high estate,<br />\nIs Janasthán left desolate.”<br />\nAkampan ceased: in angry pride<br />\nThe giant monarch thus replied:<br />\n“To Janasthán myself will go<br />\nAnd lay these daring brothers low.”<br />\nThus spoke the king in furious mood:<br />\nAkampan then his speech renewed:<br />\n“O listen while I tell at length<br />\nThe terror of the hero\'s strength.<br />\nNo power can check, no might can tame<br />\nRáma, a chief of noblest fame.<br />\n940<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHe with resistless shafts can stay<br />\nThe torrent foaming on its way.<br />\nSky, stars, and constellations, all<br />\nTo his fierce might would yield and fall.<br />\nHis power could earth itself uphold<br />\nDown sinking as it sank of old.482<br />\nOr all its plains and cities drown,<br />\nBreaking the wild sea\'s barrier down;<br />\nCrush the great deep\'s impetuous will,<br />\nOr bid the furious wind be still.<br />\nHe glorious in his high estate<br />\nThe triple world could devastate,<br />\nAnd there, supreme of men, could place<br />\nHis creatures of a new-born race.<br />\nNever can mighty Ráma be<br />\nO\'ercome in fight, my King, by thee.<br />\nThy giant host the day might win<br />\nFrom him, if heaven were gained by sin.<br />\nIf Gods were joined with demons, they<br />\nCould ne\'er, I ween, that hero slay,<br />\nBut guile may kill the wondrous man;<br />\nAttend while I disclose the plan.<br />\nHis wife, above all women graced,<br />\nIs Sítá of the dainty waist,<br />\nWith limbs to fair proportion true,<br />\nAnd a soft skin of lustrous hue,<br />\nRound neck and arm rich gems are twined:<br />\nShe is the gem of womankind.<br />\nWith her no bright Gandharví vies,<br />\nNo nymph or Goddess in the skies;<br />\nAnd none to rival her would dare<br />\n\'Mid dames who part the long black hair.<br />\n482In the great deluge.<br />\nCanto XXXI. Rávan.<br />\n941<br />\nThat hero in the wood beguile,<br />\nAnd steal his lovely spouse the while.<br />\nReft of his darling wife, be sure,<br />\nBrief days the mourner will endure.”<br />\nWith flattering hope of triumph moved<br />\nThe giant king that plan approved,<br />\nPondered the counsel in his breast,<br />\nAnd then Akampan thus addressed:<br />\n“Forth in my car I go at morn,<br />\nNone but the driver with me borne,<br />\nAnd this fair Sítá will I bring<br />\nBack to my city triumphing.”<br />\nForth in his car by asses drawn<br />\nThe giant monarch sped at dawn,<br />\nBright as the sun, the chariot cast<br />\nLight through the sky as on it passed.<br />\nThen high in air that best of cars<br />\nTraversed the path of lunar stars,<br />\nSending a fitful radiance pale<br />\nAs moonbeams shot through cloudy veil.<br />\nFar on his airy way he flew:<br />\nNear Táḍakeya\'s483grove he drew.<br />\nMárícha welcomed him, and placed<br />\nBefore him food which giants taste,<br />\nWith honour led him to a seat,<br />\nAnd brought him water for his feet;<br />\nAnd then with timely words addressed<br />\nSuch question to his royal guest:<br />\n483The giant Márícha, son of Táḍaká. Táḍaká was slain by Ráma. See p. 39.<br />\n942<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“Speak, is it well with thee whose sway<br />\nThe giant multitudes obey?<br />\nI know not all, and ask in fear<br />\nThe cause, O King, why thou art here.”<br />\nRáva, the giants\' mighty king,<br />\nHeard wise Márícha\'s questioning,<br />\nAnd told with ready answer, taught<br />\nIn eloquence, the cause he sought:<br />\n“My guards, the bravest of my band,<br />\nAre slain by Ráma\'s vigorous hand,<br />\nAnd Janasthán, that feared no hate<br />\nOf foes, is rendered desolate.<br />\nCome, aid me in the plan I lay<br />\nTo steal the conqueror\'s wife away.”<br />\nMárícha heard the king\'s request,<br />\nAnd thus the giant chief addressed:<br />\n“What foe in friendly guise is he<br />\nWho spoke of Sítá\'s name to thee?<br />\nWho is the wretch whose thought would bring<br />\nDestruction on the giants\' king?<br />\nWhose is the evil counsel, say,<br />\nThat bids thee bear his wife away,<br />\nAnd careless of thy life provoke<br />\nEarth\'s loftiest with threatening stroke?<br />\nA foe is he who dared suggest<br />\nThis hopeless folly to thy breast,<br />\nWhose ill advice would bid thee draw<br />\nThe venomed fang from serpent\'s jaw.<br />\nBy whose unwise suggestion led<br />\nWilt thou the path of ruin tread?<br />\nWhence falls the blow that would destroy<br />\nThy gentle sleep of ease and joy?<br />\nCanto XXXI. Rávan.<br />\n943<br />\nLike some wild elephant is he<br />\nThat rears his trunk on high,<br />\nLord of an ancient pedigree,<br />\nHuge tusks, and furious eye.<br />\nRávaṇ, no rover of the night<br />\nWith bravest heart can brook,<br />\nMet in the front of deadly fight,<br />\nOn Raghu\'s son to look.<br />\n[267]<br />\nThe giant hosts were brave and strong,<br />\nGood at the bow and spear:<br />\nBut Ráma slew the routed throng,<br />\nA lion \'mid the deer.<br />\nNo lion\'s tooth can match his sword,<br />\nOr arrows fiercely shot:<br />\nHe sleeps, he sleeps—the lion lord;<br />\nBe wise and rouse him not.<br />\nO Monarch of the giants, well<br />\nUpon my counsel think,<br />\nLest thou for ever in the hell<br />\nOf Ráma\'s vengeance sink:<br />\nA hell, where deadly shafts are sent<br />\nFrom his tremendous-bow,<br />\nWhile his great arms all flight prevent,<br />\nLike deepest mire below:<br />\nWhere the wild floods of battle rave<br />\nAbove the foeman\'s head,<br />\nAnd each with many a feathery wave<br />\nOf shafts is garlanded.<br />\nO, quench the flames that in thy breast<br />\nWith raging fury burn;<br />\nAnd pacified and self-possessed<br />\nTo Lanká\'s town return.<br />\nRest thou in her imperial bowers<br />\nWith thine own wives content,<br />\n944<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd in the wood let Ráma\'s hours<br />\nWith Sítá still be spent.”<br />\nThe lord of Lanká\'s isle obeyed<br />\nThe counsel, and his purpose stayed.<br />\nBorne on his car he parted thence<br />\nAnd gained his royal residence.<br />\nCanto XXXII. Rávan Roused.<br />\nBut Śúrpaṇakhá saw the plain<br />\nSpread with the fourteen thousand slain,<br />\nDoers of cruel deeds o\'erthrown<br />\nBy Ráma\'s mighty arm alone,<br />\nAdd Triśirás and Dúshaṇ dead,<br />\nAnd Khara, with the hosts they led.<br />\nTheir death she saw, and mad with pain,<br />\nRoared like a cloud that brings the rain,<br />\nAnd fled in anger and dismay<br />\nTo Lanká, seat of Rávaṇ\'s sway.<br />\nThere on a throne of royal state<br />\nExalted sat the potentate,<br />\nBegirt with counsellor and peer,<br />\nLike Indra with the Storm Gods near.<br />\nBright as the sun\'s full splendour shone<br />\nThe glorious throne he sat upon,<br />\nAs when the blazing fire is red<br />\nUpon a golden altar fed.<br />\nWide gaped his mouth at every breath,<br />\nTremendous as the jaws of Death.<br />\nWith him high saints of lofty thought,<br />\nCanto XXXII. Rávan Roused.<br />\n945<br />\nGandharvas, Gods, had vainly fought.<br />\nThe wounds were on his body yet<br />\nFrom wars where Gods and demons met.<br />\nAnd scars still marked his ample chest<br />\nBy fierce Airávat\'s484tusk impressed.<br />\nA score of arms, ten necks, had he,<br />\nHis royal gear was brave to see.<br />\nHis massive form displayed each sign<br />\nThat marks the heir of kingly line.<br />\nIn stature like a mountain height,<br />\nHis arms were strong, his teeth were white,<br />\nAnd all his frame of massive mould<br />\nSeemed lazulite adorned with gold.<br />\nA hundred seams impressed each limp<br />\nWhere Vishṇu\'s arm had wounded him,<br />\nAnd chest and shoulder bore the print<br />\nOf sword and spear and arrow dint,<br />\nWhere every God had struck a blow<br />\nIn battle with the giant foe.<br />\nHis might to wildest rage could wake<br />\nThe sea whose faith naught else can shake,<br />\nHurl towering mountains to the earth,<br />\nAnd crush e\'en foes of heavenly birth.<br />\nThe bonds of law and right he spurned:<br />\nTo others\' wives his fancy turned.<br />\nCelestial arms he used in fight,<br />\nAnd loved to mar each holy rite.<br />\nHe went to Bhogavatí\'s town,485<br />\nWhere Vásuki was beaten down,<br />\nAnd stole, victorious in the strife,<br />\nLord Takshaka\'s beloved wife.<br />\n484Indra\'s elephant.<br />\n485Bhogavatí, in Pátála in the regions under the earth, is the capital of the<br />\nserpent race whose king is Vásuki.<br />\n946<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nKailása\'s lofty crest he sought,<br />\nAnd when in vain Kuvera fought,<br />\nStole Pushpak thence, the car that through<br />\nThe air, as willed the master, flew.<br />\nImpelled by furious anger, he<br />\nSpoiled Nandan\'s486shade and Naliní,<br />\nAnd Chaitraratha\'s heavenly grove,<br />\nThe haunts where Gods delight to rove.<br />\nTall as a hill that cleaves the sky,<br />\nHe raised his mighty arms on high<br />\nTo check the blessed moon, and stay<br />\nThe rising of the Lord of Day.<br />\nTen thousand years the giant spent<br />\nOn dire austerities intent,<br />\nAnd of his heads an offering, laid<br />\nBefore the Self-existent, made.<br />\nNo God or fiend his life could take,<br />\nGandharva, goblin, bird, or snake:<br />\nSafe from all fears of death, except<br />\nFrom human arm, that life was kept.<br />\nOft when the priests began to raise<br />\nTheir consecrating hymns of praise,<br />\nHe spoiled the Soma\'s sacred juice<br />\nPoured forth by them in solemn use.<br />\n[268]<br />\nThe sacrifice his hands o\'erthrew,<br />\nAnd cruelly the Bráhmans slew.<br />\nHis was a heart that naught could melt,<br />\nJoying in woes which others felt.<br />\nShe saw the ruthless monster there,<br />\nDread of the worlds, unused to spare.<br />\nIn robes of heavenly texture dressed,<br />\nCelestial wreaths adorned his breast.<br />\n486the grove of Indra.<br />\nCanto XXXIII. Súrpanakhá\'s Speech.<br />\n947<br />\nHe sat a shape of terror, like<br />\nDestruction ere the worlds it strike.<br />\nShe saw him in his pride of place,<br />\nThe joy of old Pulastya\'s487race,<br />\nBegirt by counsellor and peer,<br />\nRávaṇ, the foeman\'s mortal fear,<br />\nAnd terror in her features shown,<br />\nThe giantess approached the throne.<br />\nThen Śúrpaṇakhá bearing yet<br />\nEach deeply printed trace<br />\nWhere the great-hearted chief had set<br />\nA mark upon her face,<br />\nImpelled by terror and desire,<br />\nStill fierce, no longer bold,<br />\nTo Rávaṇ of the eyes of fire<br />\nHer tale, infuriate, told.<br />\nCanto XXXIII. Súrpanakhá\'s Speech.<br />\nBurning with anger, in the ring<br />\nOf counsellors who girt their king,<br />\nTo Rávaṇ, ravener of man,<br />\nWith bitter words she thus began:<br />\n487Pulastya is considered as the ancestor of the Rakshases or giants, as he is<br />\nthe father of Viśravas, the father of Rávaṇ and his brethren.<br />\n948<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“Wilt thou absorbed in pleasure, still<br />\nPursue unchecked thy selfish will:<br />\nNor turn thy heedless eyes to see<br />\nThe coming fate which threatens thee?<br />\nThe king who days and hours employs<br />\nIn base pursuit of vulgar joys<br />\nMust in his people\'s sight be vile<br />\nAs fire that smokes on funeral pile.<br />\nHe who when duty calls him spares<br />\nNo time for thought of royal cares,<br />\nMust with his realm and people all<br />\nInvolved in fatal ruin fall.<br />\nAs elephants in terror shrink<br />\nFrom the false river\'s miry brink,<br />\nThus subjects from a monarch flee<br />\nWhose face their eyes may seldom see,<br />\nWho spends the hours for toil ordained<br />\nIn evil courses unrestrained.<br />\nHe who neglects to guard and hold<br />\nHis kingdom by himself controlled,<br />\nSinks nameless like a hill whose head<br />\nIs buried in the ocean\'s bed.<br />\nThy foes are calm and strong and wise,<br />\nFiends, Gods, and warriors of the skies,—<br />\nHow, heedless, wicked, weak, and vain,<br />\nWilt thou thy kingly state maintain?<br />\nThou, lord of giants, void of sense,<br />\nSlave of each changing influence,<br />\nHeedless of all that makes a king,<br />\nDestruction on thy head wilt bring.<br />\nO conquering chief, the prince, who boasts,<br />\nOf treasury and rule and hosts,<br />\nBy others led, though lord of all,<br />\nIs meaner than the lowest thrall.<br />\nCanto XXXIII. Súrpanakhá\'s Speech.<br />\n949<br />\nFor this are monarchs said to be<br />\nLong-sighted, having power to see<br />\nThings far away by faithful eyes<br />\nOf messengers and loyal spies.<br />\nBut aid from such thou wilt not seek:<br />\nThy counsellors are blind and weak,<br />\nOr thou from these hadst surely known<br />\nThy legions and thy realm o\'erthrown.<br />\nKnow, twice seven thousand, fierce in might,<br />\nAre slain by Ráma in the fight,<br />\nAnd they, the giant host who led,<br />\nKhara and Dúshaṇ, both are dead.<br />\nKnow, Ráma with his conquering arm<br />\nHas freed the saints from dread of harm,<br />\nHas smitten Janasthán and made<br />\nAsylum safe in Daṇḍak\'s shade.<br />\nEnslaved and dull, of blinded sight,<br />\nIntoxicate with vain delight,<br />\nThou closest still thy heedless eyes<br />\nTo dangers in thy realm that rise.<br />\nA king besotted, mean, unkind,<br />\nOf niggard hand and slavish mind.<br />\nWill find no faithful followers heed<br />\nTheir master in his hour of need.<br />\nThe friend on whom he most relies,<br />\nIn danger, from a monarch flies,<br />\nImperious in his high estate,<br />\nConceited, proud, and passionate;<br />\nWho ne\'er to state affairs attends<br />\nWith wholesome fear when woe impends<br />\nMost weak and worthless as the grass,<br />\nSoon from his sway the realm will pass.<br />\nFor rotting wood a use is found,<br />\nFor clods and dust that strew the ground,<br />\n950<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBut when a king has lost his sway,<br />\nUseless he falls, and sinks for aye.<br />\nAs raiment by another worn,<br />\nAs faded garland crushed and torn,<br />\nSo is, unthroned, the proudest king,<br />\nThough mighty once, a useless thing.<br />\nBut he who every sense subdues<br />\nAnd each event observant views,<br />\nRewards the good and keeps from wrong,<br />\nShall reign secure and flourish long.<br />\nThough lulled in sleep his senses lie<br />\nHe watches with a ruler\'s eye,<br />\nUntouched by favour, ire, and hate,<br />\nAnd him the people celebrate.<br />\nO weak of mind, without a trace<br />\n[269]<br />\nOf virtues that a king should grace,<br />\nWho hast not learnt from watchful spy<br />\nThat low in death the giants lie.<br />\nScorner of others, but enchained<br />\nBy every base desire,<br />\nBy thee each duty is disdained<br />\nWhich time and place require.<br />\nSoon wilt thou, if thou canst not learn,<br />\nEre yet it be too late,<br />\nThe good from evil to discern,<br />\nFall from thy high estate.”<br />\nAs thus she ceased not to upbraid<br />\nThe king with cutting speech,<br />\nAnd every fault to view displayed,<br />\nNaming and marking each,<br />\nThe monarch of the sons of night,<br />\nOf wealth and power possessed,<br />\nAnd proud of his imperial might,<br />\nLong pondered in his breast.<br />\nCanto XXXIV. Súrpanakhá\'s Speech.<br />\n951<br />\nCanto XXXIV. Súrpanakhá\'s Speech.<br />\nThen forth the giant\'s fury broke<br />\nAs Śúrpaṇakhá harshly spoke.<br />\nGirt by his lords the demon king<br />\nLooked on her, fiercely questioning:<br />\n“Who is this Ráma, whence, and where?<br />\nHis form, his might, his deeds declare.<br />\nHis wandering steps what purpose led<br />\nTo Daṇḍak forest, hard to tread?<br />\nWhat arms are his that he could smite<br />\nIn fray the rovers of the night,<br />\nAnd Triśirás and Dúshaṇ lay<br />\nLow on the earth, and Khara slay?<br />\nTell all, my sister, and declare<br />\nWho maimed thee thus, of form most fair.”<br />\nThus by the giant king addressed,<br />\nWhile burnt her fury unrepressed,<br />\nThe giantess declared at length<br />\nThe hero\'s form and deeds and strength:<br />\n952<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“Long are his arms and large his eyes:<br />\nA black deer\'s skin his dress supplies.<br />\nKing Daśaratha\'s son is he,<br />\nFair as Kandarpa\'s self to see.<br />\nAdorned with many a golden band,<br />\nA bow, like Indra\'s, arms his hand,<br />\nAnd shoots a flood of arrows fierce<br />\nAs venomed snakes to burn and pierce.<br />\nI looked, I looked, but never saw<br />\nHis mighty hand the bowstring draw<br />\nThat sent the deadly arrows out,<br />\nWhile rang through air his battle-shout.<br />\nI looked, I looked, and saw too well<br />\nHow with that hail the giants fell,<br />\nAs falls to earth the golden grain,<br />\nStruck by the blows of Indra\'s rain.<br />\nHe fought, and twice seven thousand, all<br />\nTerrific giants, strong and tall,<br />\nFell by the pointed shafts o\'erthrown<br />\nWhich Ráma shot on foot, alone.<br />\nThree little hours had scarcely fled,—<br />\nKhara and Dúshaṇ both were dead,<br />\nAnd he had freed the saints and made<br />\nAsylum sure in Daṇḍak\'s shade.<br />\nMe of his grace the victor spared,<br />\nOr I the giants\' fate had shared.<br />\nThe high-souled Ráma would not deign<br />\nHis hand with woman\'s blood to stain.<br />\nThe glorious Lakshmaṇ, justly dear,<br />\nIn gifts and warrior might his peer,<br />\nServes his great brother with the whole<br />\nDevotion of his faithful soul:<br />\nImpetuous victor, bold and wise,<br />\nFirst in each hardy enterprise,<br />\nCanto XXXIV. Súrpanakhá\'s Speech.<br />\n953<br />\nStill ready by his side to stand,<br />\nA second self or better hand.<br />\nAnd Ráma has a large-eyed spouse,<br />\nPure as the moon her cheek and brows,<br />\nDearer than life in Ráma\'s sight,<br />\nWhose happiness is her delight.<br />\nWith beauteous hair and nose the dame<br />\nFrom head to foot has naught to blame.<br />\nShe shines the wood\'s bright Goddess, Queen<br />\nOf beauty with her noble mien.<br />\nFirst in the ranks of women placed<br />\nIs Sítá of the dainty waist.<br />\nIn all the earth mine eyes have ne\'er<br />\nSeen female form so sweetly fair.<br />\nGoddess nor nymph can vie with her,<br />\nNor bride of heavenly chorister.<br />\nHe who might call this dame his own,<br />\nHer eager arms about him thrown,<br />\nWould live more blest in Sítá\'s love<br />\nThan Indra in the world above.<br />\nShe, peerless in her form and face<br />\nAnd rich in every gentle grace,<br />\nIs worthy bride, O King, for thee,<br />\nAs thou art meet her lord to be.<br />\nI even I, will bring the bride<br />\nIn triumph to her lover\'s side—<br />\nThis beauty fairer than the rest,<br />\nWith rounded limb and heaving breast.<br />\nEach wound upon my face I owe<br />\nTo cruel Lakshmaṇ\'s savage blow.<br />\nBut thou, O brother, shalt survey<br />\nHer moonlike loveliness to-day,<br />\nAnd Káma\'s piercing shafts shall smite<br />\nThine amorous bosom at the sight.<br />\n954<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nIf in thy breast the longing rise<br />\nTo make thine own the beauteous prize,<br />\nUp, let thy better foot begin<br />\nThe journey and the treasure win.<br />\nIf, giant Lord, thy favouring eyes<br />\nRegard the plan which I advise,<br />\nUp, cast all fear and doubt away<br />\nAnd execute the words I say<br />\nCome, giant King, this treasure seek,<br />\nFor thou art strong and they are weak.<br />\n[270]<br />\nLet Sítá of the faultless frame<br />\nBe borne away and be thy dame.<br />\nThy host in Janasthán who dwelt<br />\nForth to the battle hied.<br />\nAnd by the shafts which Ráma dealt<br />\nThey perished in their pride.<br />\nDúshaṇ and Khara breathe no more,<br />\nLaid low upon the plain.<br />\nArise, and ere the day be o\'er<br />\nTake vengeance for the slain.”<br />\nCanto XXXV. Rávan\'s Journey.<br />\nWhen Rávaṇ, by her fury spurred,<br />\nThat terrible advice had heard,<br />\nHe bade his nobles quit his side,<br />\nAnd to the work his thought applied.<br />\nHe turned his anxious mind to scan<br />\nOn every side the hardy plan:<br />\nThe gain against the risk he laid,<br />\nEach hope and fear with care surveyed,<br />\nCanto XXXV. Rávan\'s Journey.<br />\n955<br />\nAnd in his heart at length decreed<br />\nTo try performance of the deed.<br />\nThen steady in his dire intent<br />\nThe giant to the courtyard went.<br />\nThere to his charioteer he cried,<br />\n“Bring forth the car whereon I ride.”<br />\nAye ready at his master\'s word<br />\nThe charioteer the order heard,<br />\nAnd yoked with active zeal the best<br />\nOf chariots at his lord\'s behest.<br />\nAsses with heads of goblins drew<br />\nThat wondrous car where\'er it flew.<br />\nObedient to the will it rolled<br />\nAdorned with gems and glistering gold.<br />\nThen mounting, with a roar as loud<br />\nAs thunder from a labouring cloud,<br />\nThe mighty monarch to the tide<br />\nOf Ocean, lord of rivers, hied.<br />\nWhite was the shade above him spread,<br />\nWhite chouris waved around his head,<br />\nAnd he with gold and jewels bright<br />\nShone like the glossy lazulite.<br />\nTen necks and twenty arms had he:<br />\nHis royal gear was good to see.<br />\nThe heavenly Gods\' insatiate foe,<br />\nWho made the blood of hermits flow,<br />\nHe like the Lord of Hills appeared<br />\nWith ten huge heads to heaven upreared.<br />\nIn the great car whereon he rode,<br />\nLike some dark cloud the giant showed,<br />\nWhen round it in their close array<br />\nThe cranes \'mid wreaths of lightning play.<br />\nHe looked, and saw, from realms of air,<br />\nThe rocky shore of ocean, where<br />\n956<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nUnnumbered trees delightful grew<br />\nWith flower and fruit of every hue.<br />\nHe looked on many a lilied pool<br />\nWith silvery waters fresh and cool,<br />\nAnd shores like spacious altars meet<br />\nFor holy hermits\' lone retreat.<br />\nThe graceful palm adorned the scene,<br />\nThe plantain waved her glossy green.<br />\nThere grew the sál and betel, there<br />\nOn bending boughs the flowers were fair.<br />\nThere hermits dwelt who tamed each sense<br />\nBy strictest rule of abstinence:<br />\nGandharvas, Kinnars,488thronged the place,<br />\nNágas and birds of heavenly race.<br />\nBright minstrels of the ethereal quire,<br />\nAnd saints exempt from low desire,<br />\nWith Ájas, sons of Brahmá\'s line,<br />\nMaríchipas of seed divine,<br />\nVaikhánasas and Máshas strayed,<br />\nAnd Bálakhilyas489in the shade.<br />\nThe lovely nymphs of heaven were there,<br />\nCelestial wreaths confined their hair,<br />\nAnd to each form new grace was lent<br />\nBy wealth of heavenly ornament.<br />\nWell skilled was each in play and dance<br />\nAnd gentle arts of dalliance.<br />\nThe glorious wife of many a God<br />\nThose beautiful recesses trod,<br />\nThere Gods and Dánavs, all who eat<br />\nThe food of heaven, rejoiced to meet.<br />\nThe swan and Sáras thronged each bay<br />\n488Beings with the body of a man and the head of a horse.<br />\n489Ájas, Maríchipas, Vaikhánasas, Máshas, and Bálakhilyas are classes of<br />\nsupernatural beings who lead the lives of hermits.<br />\nCanto XXXV. Rávan\'s Journey.<br />\n957<br />\nWith curlews, ducks, and divers gay,<br />\nWhere the sea spray rose soft and white<br />\nO\'er rocks of glossy lazulite.<br />\nAs his swift way the fiend pursued<br />\nPale chariots of the Gods he viewed,<br />\nBearing each lord whose rites austere<br />\nHad raised him to the heavenly sphere.<br />\nThereon celestial garlands hung,<br />\nThere music played and songs were sung.<br />\nThen bright Gandharvas met his view,<br />\nAnd heavenly nymphs, as on he flew.<br />\nHe saw the sandal woods below,<br />\nAnd precious trees of odorous flow,<br />\nThat to the air around them lent<br />\nTheir riches of delightful scent;<br />\nNor failed his roving eye to mark<br />\nTall aloe trees in grove and park.<br />\nHe looked on wood with cassias filled,<br />\nAnd plants which balmy sweets distilled,<br />\nWhere her fair flowers the betel showed<br />\nAnd the bright pods of pepper glowed.<br />\nThe pearls in many a silvery heap<br />\nLay on the margin of the deep.<br />\nAnd grey rocks rose amid the red<br />\nOf coral washed from ocean\'s bed.<br />\n[271]<br />\nHigh soared the mountain peaks that bore<br />\nTreasures of gold and silver ore,<br />\nAnd leaping down the rocky walls<br />\nCame wild and glorious waterfalls.<br />\nFair towns which grain and treasure held,<br />\nAnd dames who every gem excelled,<br />\nHe saw outspread beneath him far,<br />\nWith steed, and elephant, and car.<br />\nThat ocean shore he viewed that showed<br />\n958<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nFair as the blessed Gods\' abode<br />\nWhere cool delightful breezes played<br />\nO\'er levels in the freshest shade.<br />\nHe saw a fig-tree like a cloud<br />\nWith mighty branches earthward bowed.<br />\nIt stretched a hundred leagues and made<br />\nFor hermit bands a welcome shade.<br />\nThither the feathered king of yore<br />\nAn elephant and tortoise bore,<br />\nAnd lighted on a bough to eat<br />\nThe captives of his taloned feet.<br />\nThe bough unable to sustain<br />\nThe crushing weight and sudden strain,<br />\nLoaded with sprays and leaves of spring<br />\nGave way beneath the feathered king.<br />\nUnder the shadow of the tree<br />\nDwelt many a saint and devotee,<br />\nÁjas, the sons of Brahmá\'s line,<br />\nMáshas, Maríchipas divine.<br />\nVaikhánasas, and all the race<br />\nOf Bálakhilyas, loved the place.<br />\nBut pitying their sad estate<br />\nThe feathered monarch raised the weight<br />\nOf the huge bough, and bore away<br />\nThe loosened load and captured prey.<br />\nA hundred leagues away he sped,<br />\nThen on his monstrous booty fed,<br />\nAnd with the bough he smote the lands<br />\nWhere dwell the wild Nisháda bands.<br />\nHigh joy was his because his deed<br />\nFrom jeopardy the hermits freed.<br />\nThat pride for great deliverance wrought<br />\nA double share of valour brought.<br />\nHis soul conceived the high emprise<br />\nCanto XXXV. Rávan\'s Journey.<br />\n959<br />\nTo snatch the Amrit from the skies.<br />\nHe rent the nets of iron first,<br />\nThen through the jewel chamber burst,<br />\nAnd bore the drink of heaven away<br />\nThat watched in Indra\'s palace lay.<br />\nSuch was the hermit-sheltering tree<br />\nWhich Rávaṇ turned his eye to see.<br />\nStill marked where Garuḍ sought to rest,<br />\nThe fig-tree bore the name of Blest.<br />\nWhen Rávaṇ stayed his chariot o\'er<br />\nThe ocean\'s heart-enchanting shore,<br />\nHe saw a hermitage that stood<br />\nSequestered in the holy wood.<br />\nHe saw the fiend Márícha there<br />\nWith deerskin garb, and matted hair<br />\nCoiled up in hermit guise, who spent<br />\nHis days by rule most abstinent.<br />\nAs guest and host are wont to meet,<br />\nThey met within that lone retreat.<br />\nBefore the king Márícha placed<br />\nFood never known to human taste.<br />\nHe entertained his guest with meat<br />\nAnd gave him water for his feet,<br />\nAnd then addressed the giant king<br />\nWith timely words of questioning:<br />\n“Lord, is it well with thee, and well<br />\nWith those in Lanká\'s town who dwell?<br />\nWhat sudden thought, what urgent need<br />\nHas brought thee with impetuous speed?”<br />\n960<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe fiend Márícha thus addressed<br />\nRávaṇ the king, his mighty guest,<br />\nAnd he, well skilled in arts that guide<br />\nThe eloquent, in turn replied:<br />\nCanto XXXVI. Rávan\'s Speech.<br />\n“Hear me, Márícha, while I speak,<br />\nAnd tell thee why thy home I seek.<br />\nSick and distressed am I, and see<br />\nMy surest hope and help in thee.<br />\nOf Janasthán I need not tell,<br />\nWhere Śúrpaṇakhá, Khara, dwell,<br />\nAnd Dúshaṇ with the arm of might,<br />\nAnd Triśirás, the fierce in fight,<br />\nWho feeds on human flesh and gore,<br />\nAnd many noble giants more,<br />\nWho roam in dark of midnight through<br />\nThe forest, brave and strong and true.<br />\nBy my command they live at ease<br />\nAnd slaughter saints and devotees.<br />\nThose twice seven thousand giants, all<br />\nObedient to their captain\'s call,<br />\nJoying in war and ruthless deeds<br />\nFollow where mighty Khara leads.<br />\nThose fearless warrior bands who roam<br />\nThrough Janasthán their forest home,<br />\nIn all their terrible array<br />\nMet Ráma in the battle fray.<br />\nGirt with all weapons forth they sped<br />\nWith Khara at the army\'s head.<br />\nCanto XXXVI. Rávan\'s Speech.<br />\n961<br />\nThe front of battle Ráma held:<br />\nWith furious wrath his bosom swelled.<br />\nWithout a word his hate to show<br />\nHe launched the arrows from his bow.<br />\nOn the fierce hosts the missiles came,<br />\nEach burning with destructive flame,<br />\nThe twice seven thousand fell o\'erthrown<br />\nBy him, a man, on foot, alone.<br />\nKhara the army\'s chief and pride,<br />\nAnd Dúshaṇ, fearless warrior, died,<br />\nAnd Triśirás the fierce was slain,<br />\nAnd Daṇḍak wood was free again.<br />\nHe, banished by his angry sire,<br />\nRoams with his wife in mean attire.<br />\nThis wretch, his Warrior tribe\'s disgrace<br />\nHas slain the best of giant race.<br />\n[272]<br />\nHarsh, wicked, fierce and greedy-souled,<br />\nA fool, with senses uncontrolled,<br />\nNo thought of duty stirs his breast:<br />\nHe joys to see the world distressed.<br />\nHe sought the wood with fair pretence<br />\nOf truthful life and innocence,<br />\nBut his false hand my sister left<br />\nMangled, of nose and ears bereft.<br />\nThis Ráma\'s wife who bears the name<br />\nOf Sítá, in her face and frame<br />\nFair as a daughter of the skies,—<br />\nHer will I seize and bring the prize<br />\nTriumphant from the forest shade:<br />\nFor this I seek thy willing aid.<br />\nIf thou, O mighty one, wilt lend<br />\nThy help and stand beside thy friend,<br />\nI with my brothers may defy<br />\n962<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAll Gods embattled in the sky.<br />\nCome, aid me now, for thine the power<br />\nTo succour in the doubtful hour.<br />\nThou art in war and time of fear,<br />\nFor heart and hand, without a peer.<br />\nFor thou art skilled in art and wile,<br />\nA warrior brave and trained in guile.<br />\nWith this one hope, this only aim,<br />\nO Rover of the Night, I came.<br />\nNow let me tell what aid I ask<br />\nTo back me in my purposed task.<br />\nIn semblance of a golden deer<br />\nAdorned with silver spots appear.<br />\nGo, seek his dwelling: in the way<br />\nOf Ráma and his consort stray.<br />\nDoubt not the lady, when she sees<br />\nThe wondrous deer amid the trees,<br />\nWill bid her lord and Lakshmaṇ take<br />\nThe creature for its beauty\'s sake.<br />\nThen when the chiefs have parted thence,<br />\nAnd left her lone, without defence,<br />\nAs Ráhu storms the moonlight, I<br />\nWill seize the lovely dame and fly.<br />\nHer lord will waste away and weep<br />\nFor her his valour could not keep.<br />\nThen boldly will I strike the blow<br />\nAnd wreak my vengeance on the foe.”<br />\nWhen wise Márícha heard the tale<br />\nHis heart grew faint, his cheek was pale,<br />\nHe stared with open orbs, and tried<br />\nTo moisten lips which terror dried,<br />\nAnd grief, like death, his bosom rent<br />\nAs on the king his look he bent.<br />\nCanto XXXVII. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\n963<br />\nThe monarch\'s will he strove to stay,<br />\nDistracted with alarm,<br />\nFor well he knew the might that lay<br />\nIn Ráma\'s matchless arm.<br />\nWith suppliant hands Márícha stood<br />\nAnd thus began to tell<br />\nHis counsel for the tyrant\'s good,<br />\nAnd for his own as well:<br />\nCanto XXXVII. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\nMárícha gave attentive ear<br />\nThe ruler of the fiends to hear:<br />\nThen, trained in all the rules that teach<br />\nThe eloquent, began his speech:<br />\n“\'Tis easy task, O King, to find<br />\nSmooth speakers who delight the mind.<br />\nBut they who urge and they who do<br />\nDistasteful things and wise, are few.<br />\nThou hast not learnt, by proof untaught,<br />\nAnd borne away by eager thought,<br />\nThat Ráma, formed for high emprise,<br />\nWith Varuṇ or with Indra vies.<br />\nStill let thy people live in peace,<br />\nNor let their name and lineage cease,<br />\nFor Ráma with his vengeful hand<br />\nCan sweep the giants from the land.<br />\nO, let not Janak\'s daughter bring<br />\nDestruction on the giant king.<br />\nLet not the lady Sítá wake<br />\nA tempest, on thy head to break.<br />\n964<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nStill let the dame, by care untried,<br />\nBe happy by her husband\'s side,<br />\nLest swift avenging ruin fall<br />\nOn glorious Lanká, thee, and all.<br />\nMen such as thou with wills unchained,<br />\nAdvised by sin and unrestrained,<br />\nDestroy themselves, the king, the state,<br />\nAnd leave the people desolate.<br />\nRáma, in bonds of duty held,<br />\nWas never by his sire expelled.<br />\nHe is no wretch of greedy mind,<br />\nDishonour of his Warrior kind.<br />\nFree from all touch of rancorous spite,<br />\nAll creatures\' good is his delight.<br />\nHe saw his sire of truthful heart<br />\nDeceived by Queen Kaikeyí\'s art,<br />\nAnd said, a true and duteous son,<br />\n“What thou hast promised shall be done.”<br />\nTo gratify the lady\'s will,<br />\nHis father\'s promise to fulfil,<br />\nHe left his realm and all delight<br />\nFor Daṇḍak wood, an anchorite.<br />\nNo cruel wretch, no senseless fool<br />\nIs Ráma, unrestrained by rule.<br />\nThis groundless charge has ne\'er been heard,<br />\nNor shouldst thou speak the slanderous word.<br />\nRáma in truth and goodness bold<br />\nIs Virtue\'s self in human mould,<br />\nThe sovereign of the world confessed<br />\nAs Indra rules among the Blest.<br />\nAnd dost thou plot from him to rend<br />\nThe darling whom his arms defend?<br />\nLess vain the hope to steal away<br />\nThe glory of the Lord of Day.<br />\n[273]<br />\nCanto XXXVII. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\n965<br />\nO Rávaṇ, guard thee from the fire<br />\nOf vengeful Ráma\'s kindled ire,—<br />\nEach spark a shaft with deadly aim,<br />\nWhile bow and falchion feed the flame.<br />\nCast not away in hopeless strife<br />\nThy realm, thy bliss, thine own dear life.<br />\nO Rávaṇ of his might beware,<br />\nA God of Death who will not spare.<br />\nThat bow he knows so well to draw<br />\nIs the destroyer\'s flaming jaw,<br />\nAnd with his shafts which flash and glow<br />\nHe slays the armies of the foe.<br />\nThou ne\'er canst win—the thought forego—<br />\nFrom the safe guard of shaft and bow<br />\nKing Janak\'s child, the dear delight<br />\nOf Ráma unapproached in might.<br />\nThe spouse of Raghu\'s son, confessed<br />\nLion of men with lion chest,—<br />\nDearer than life, through good and ill<br />\nDevoted to her husband\'s will,<br />\nThe slender-waisted, still must be<br />\nFrom thy polluting touches free.<br />\nFar better grasp with venturous hand<br />\nThe flame to wildest fury fanned.<br />\nWhat, King of giants, canst thou gain<br />\nFrom this attempt so wild and vain?<br />\nIf in the fight his eye he bend<br />\nUpon thee, Lord, thy days must end,<br />\nSo life and bliss and royal sway,<br />\nLost beyond hope, will pass away.<br />\nSummon each lord of high estate,<br />\nAnd chief, Vibhishaṇ490to debate.<br />\n490“The younger brother of the giant Rávaṇ; when he and his brother had<br />\npracticed austerities for a long series of years, Brahmá appeared to offer<br />\n966<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWith peers in lore of counsel tried<br />\nConsider, reason, and decide<br />\nScan strength and weakness, count the cost,<br />\nWhat may be gained and what be lost.<br />\nExamine and compare aright<br />\nThy proper power and Ráma\'s might,<br />\nThen if thy weal be still thy care,<br />\nThou wilt be prudent and forbear.<br />\nO giant King, the contest shun,<br />\nThy force is all too weak<br />\nThe lord of Kosál\'s mighty son<br />\nIn deadly fray to seek.<br />\nKing of the hosts that rove at night,<br />\nO hear what I advise:<br />\nMy prudent counsel do not slight;<br />\nBe patient and be wise.”<br />\nCanto XXXVIII. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\nthem boons: Vibhishaṇa asked that he might never meditate any unrighteous-<br />\nness.… On the death of Rávaṇ Vibhishaṇa was installed as Rája of Lanká.”<br />\nGARRETT\'S{FNS Classical Dictionary of India.<br />\nCanto XXXVIII. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\n967<br />\n“Once in my strength and vigour\'s pride<br />\nI roamed this earth from side to side,<br />\nAnd towering like a mountain\'s crest,<br />\nA thousand Nágas\'491might possessed.<br />\nLike some vast sable cloud I showed:<br />\nMy golden armlets flashed and glowed.<br />\nA crown I wore, an axe I swayed,<br />\nAnd all I met were sore afraid.<br />\nI roved where Daṇḍak wood is spread;<br />\nOn flesh of slaughtered saints I fed.<br />\nThen Viśvámitra, sage revered,<br />\nHoly of heart, my fury feared.<br />\nTo Daśaratha\'s court he sped<br />\nAnd went before the king and said:492<br />\n“With me, my lord, thy Ráma send<br />\nOn holy days his aid to lend.<br />\nMárícha fills my soul with dread<br />\nAnd keeps me sore disquieted.”<br />\nThe monarch heard the saint\'s request<br />\nAnd thus the glorious sage addressed:<br />\n“My boy as yet in arms untrained<br />\nThe age of twelve has scarce attained.<br />\nBut I myself a host will lead<br />\nTo guard thee in the hour of need.<br />\nMy host with fourfold troops complete,<br />\nThe rover of the night shall meet,<br />\nAnd I, O best of saints, will kill<br />\nThy foeman and thy prayer fulfil.”<br />\nThe king vouchsafed his willing aid:<br />\nThe saint again this answer made:<br />\n491Serpent-gods.<br />\n492See p. 33.<br />\n968<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“By Ráma\'s might, and his alone,<br />\nCan this great fiend be overthrown.<br />\nI know in days of yore the Blest<br />\nThy saving help in fight confessed.<br />\nStill of thy famous deeds they tell<br />\nIn heaven above, in earth, and hell,<br />\nA mighty host obeys thy hest:<br />\nHere let it still, I pray thee, rest.<br />\nThy glorious son, though yet a boy,<br />\nWill in the fight that fiend destroy.<br />\nRáma alone with me shall go:<br />\nBe happy, victor of the foe.”<br />\nHe spoke: the monarch gave assent,<br />\nAnd Ráma to the hermit lent.<br />\nSo to his woodland home in joy<br />\nWent Viśvámitra with the boy.<br />\nWith ready bow the champion stood<br />\nTo guard the rites in Daṇḍak wood.<br />\nWith glorious eyes, most bright to view,<br />\nBeardless as yet and dark of hue;<br />\nA single robe his only wear,<br />\nHis temples veiled with waving hair,<br />\n[274]<br />\nAround his neck a chain of gold,<br />\nHe grasped the bow he loved to hold;<br />\nAnd the young hero\'s presence made<br />\nA glory in the forest shade.<br />\nThus Ráma with his beauteous mien,<br />\nLike the young rising moon was seen,<br />\nI, like a cloud which tempest brings,<br />\nMy arms adorned with golden rings,<br />\nProud of the boon which lent me might,<br />\nApproached where dwelt the anchorite.<br />\nBut Ráma saw me venturing nigh,<br />\nCanto XXXVIII. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\n969<br />\nRaising my murderous axe on high;<br />\nHe saw, and fearless of the foe,<br />\nStrung with calm hand his trusty bow.<br />\nBy pride of conscious strength beguiled,<br />\nI scorned him as a feeble child,<br />\nAnd rushed with an impetuous bound<br />\nOn Viśvámitra\'s holy ground.<br />\nA keen swift shaft he pointed well,<br />\nThe foeman\'s rage to check and quell,<br />\nAnd hurled a hundred leagues away<br />\nDeep in the ocean waves I lay.<br />\nHe would not kill, but, nobly brave,<br />\nMy forfeit life he chose to save.<br />\nSo there I lay with wandering sense<br />\nDazed by that arrow\'s violence.<br />\nLong in the sea I lay: at length<br />\nSlowly returned my sense and strength,<br />\nAnd rising from my watery bed<br />\nTo Lanká\'s town again I sped.<br />\nThus was I spared, but all my band<br />\nFell slain by Ráma\'s conquering hand,—<br />\nA boy, untrained in warrior\'s skill,<br />\nOf iron arm and dauntless will.<br />\nIf thou with Ráma still, in spite<br />\nOf warning and of prayer, wilt fight,<br />\nI see terrific woes impend,<br />\nAnd dire defeat thy days will end.<br />\nThy giants all will feel the blow<br />\nAnd share the fatal overthrow,<br />\nWho love the taste of joy and play,<br />\nThe banquet and the festal day.<br />\nThine eyes will see destruction take<br />\nThy Lanká, lost for Sítá\'s sake,<br />\nAnd stately pile and palace fall<br />\n970<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWith terrace, dome, and jewelled wall.<br />\nThe good will die: the crime of kings<br />\nDestruction on the people brings:<br />\nThe sinless die, as in the lake<br />\nThe fish must perish with the snake.<br />\nThe prostrate giants thou wilt see<br />\nSlain for this folly wrought by thee,<br />\nTheir bodies bright with precious scent<br />\nAnd sheen of heavenly ornament;<br />\nOr see the remnant of thy train<br />\nSeek refuge far, when help is vain<br />\nAnd with their wives, or widowed, fly<br />\nTo every quarter of the sky;<br />\nThy mournful eyes, where\'er they turn,<br />\nWill see thy stately city burn,<br />\nWhen royal homes with fire are red,<br />\nAnd arrowy nets around are spread.<br />\nA sin that tops all sins in shame<br />\nIs outrage to another\'s dame,<br />\nA thousand wives thy palace fill,<br />\nAnd countless beauties wait thy will.<br />\nO rest contented with thine own,<br />\nNor let thy race be overthrown.<br />\nIf thou, O King, hast still delight<br />\nIn rank and wealth and power and might,<br />\nIn noble wives, in troops of friends,<br />\nIn all that royal state attends,<br />\nI warn thee, cast not all away,<br />\nNor challenge Ráma to the fray.<br />\nIf deaf to every friendly prayer,<br />\nThou still wilt seek the strife,<br />\nAnd from the side of Ráma tear<br />\nHis lovely Maithil wife,<br />\nSoon will thy life and empire end<br />\nCanto XXXIX. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\n971<br />\nDestroyed by Ráma\'s bow,<br />\nAnd thou, with kith and kin and friend,<br />\nTo Yáma\'s realm must go.”<br />\nCanto XXXIX. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\n“I told thee of that dreadful day<br />\nWhen Ráma smote and spared to slay.<br />\nNow hear me, Rávaṇ, while I tell<br />\nWhat in the after time befell.<br />\nAt length, restored to strength and pride,<br />\nI and two mighty fiends beside<br />\nAssumed the forms of deer and strayed<br />\nThrough Daṇḍak wood in lawn and glade,<br />\nI reared terrific horns: beneath<br />\nWere flaming tongue and pointed teeth.<br />\nI roamed where\'er my fancy led,<br />\nAnd on the flesh of hermits fed,<br />\nIn sacred haunt, by hallowed tree,<br />\nWhere\'er the ritual fires might be.<br />\nA fearful shape, I wandered through<br />\nThe wood, and many a hermit slew.<br />\nWith ruthless rage the saints I killed<br />\nWho in the grove their tasks fulfilled.<br />\nWhen smitten to the earth they sank,<br />\nTheir flesh I ate, their blood I drank,<br />\nAnd with my cruel deeds dismayed<br />\nAll dwellers in the forest shade,<br />\nSpoiling their rites in bitter hate,<br />\nWith human blood inebriate.<br />\nOnce in the wood I chanced to see<br />\n972<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nRáma again, a devotee,<br />\nA hermit, fed on scanty fare,<br />\nWho made the good of all his care.<br />\nHis noble wife was by his side,<br />\nAnd Lakshmaṇ in the battle tried.<br />\nIn senseless pride I scorned the might<br />\nOf that illustrious anchorite,<br />\nAnd heedless of a hermit foe,<br />\nRecalled my earlier overthrow.<br />\n[275]<br />\nI charged him in my rage and scorn<br />\nTo slay him with my pointed horn,<br />\nIn heedless haste, to fury wrought<br />\nAs on my former wounds I thought.<br />\nThen from the mighty bow he drew<br />\nThree foe-destroying arrows flew,<br />\nKeen-pointed, leaping from the string,<br />\nSwift as the wind or feathered king.<br />\nDire shafts, on flesh of foemen fed,<br />\nLike rushing thunderbolts they sped,<br />\nWith knots well smoothed and barbs well bent,<br />\nShot e\'en as one, the arrows went.<br />\nBut I who Ráma\'s might had felt,<br />\nAnd knew the blows the hero dealt,<br />\nEscaped by rapid flight. The two<br />\nWho lingered on the spot, he slew.<br />\nI fled from mortal danger, freed<br />\nFrom the dire shaft by timely speed.<br />\nNow to deep thought my days I give,<br />\nAnd as a humble hermit live.<br />\nIn every shrub, in every tree<br />\nI view that noblest devotee.<br />\nIn every knotted trunk I mark<br />\nHis deerskin and his coat of bark,<br />\nAnd see the bow-armed Ráma stand<br />\nCanto XXXIX. Márícha\'s Speech.<br />\n973<br />\nLike Yáma with his noose in hand.<br />\nI tell thee Rávaṇ, in my fright<br />\nA thousand Rámas mock my sight,<br />\nThis wood with every bush and bough<br />\nSeems all one fearful Ráma now.<br />\nThroughout the grove there is no spot<br />\nSo lonely where I see him not.<br />\nHe haunts me in my dreams by night,<br />\nAnd wakes me with the wild affright.<br />\nThe letter that begins his name<br />\nSends terror through my startled frame.<br />\nThe rapid cars whereon we ride,<br />\nThe rich rare jewels, once my pride,<br />\nHave names493that strike upon mine ear<br />\nWith hated sound that counsels fear.<br />\nHis mighty strength too well I know,<br />\nNor art thou match for such a foe.<br />\nToo strong were Raghus\'s son in fight<br />\nFor Namuchi or Bali\'s might.<br />\nThen Ráma to the battle dare,<br />\nOr else be patient and forbear;<br />\nBut, wouldst thou see me live in peace,<br />\nLet mention of the hero cease.<br />\nThe good whose holy lives were spent<br />\nIn deepest thought, most innocent,<br />\nWith all their people many a time<br />\nHave perished through another\'s crime.<br />\nSo in the common ruin, I<br />\nMust for another\'s folly die,<br />\nDo all thy strength and courage can,<br />\nBut ne\'er will I approve the plan.<br />\nFor he, in might supremely great,<br />\n493The Sanskrit words for car and jewels begin with ra.<br />\n974<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe giant world could extirpate,<br />\nSince, when impetuous Khara sought<br />\nThe grove of Janasthán and fought<br />\nFor Śúrpaṇakhá\'s sake, he died<br />\nBy Ráma\'s hand in battle tried.<br />\nHow has he wronged thee? Soothly swear,<br />\nAnd Ráma\'s fault and sin declare.<br />\nI warn thee, and my words are wise,<br />\nI seek thy people\'s weal:<br />\nBut if this rede thou wilt despise,<br />\nNor hear my last appeal,<br />\nThou with thy kin and all thy friends<br />\nIn fight this day wilt die,<br />\nWhen his great bow the hero bends,<br />\nAnd shafts unerring fly.”<br />\nCanto XL. Rávan\'s Speech.<br />\nBut Rávaṇ scorned the rede he gave<br />\nIn timely words to warn and save,<br />\nE\'en as the wretch who hates to live<br />\nRejects the herb the leeches give.<br />\nBy fate to sin and ruin spurred,<br />\nThat sage advice the giant heard,<br />\nThen in reproaches hard and stern<br />\nThus to Márícha spoke in turn:<br />\nCanto XL. Rávan\'s Speech.</p>\n<p><a title=\"read Book III. Forest (part 2)\" href=\"/node/330\" style=\"text-decoration: underline;\">Book III. Forest (part 2)</a></p>\n', created = 1594068507, expire = 1594154907, headers = '', serialized = 0 WHERE cid = '2:b49231a487f52a7d265ccb7b849ffaab' in /home/piv1691/theosophy-mm.net/www/includes/cache.inc on line 108.
  • user warning: UPDATE command denied to user 'piv1691_db'@'91.206.201.251' for table 'cache' query: UPDATE cache SET data = 'a:130:{s:24:\"block_admin_display_form\";a:8:{s:8:\"template\";s:38:\"modules/block/block-admin-display-form\";s:4:\"file\";s:15:\"block.admin.inc\";s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:13:\"modules/block\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:31:\"./modules/block/block.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:13:\"modules/block\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:44:\"template_preprocess_block_admin_display_form\";}}s:13:\"content_field\";a:8:{s:8:\"template\";s:13:\"content-field\";s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"path\";s:17:\"modules/cck/theme\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:11:\"modules/cck\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:17:\"modules/cck/theme\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:33:\"template_preprocess_content_field\";}}s:22:\"content_overview_links\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:0:{}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:11:\"modules/cck\";s:8:\"function\";s:28:\"theme_content_overview_links\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:11:\"modules/cck\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:27:\"content_field_overview_form\";a:9:{s:8:\"template\";s:33:\"content-admin-field-overview-form\";s:4:\"file\";s:9:\"theme.inc\";s:4:\"path\";s:17:\"modules/cck/theme\";s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:11:\"modules/cck\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/cck/theme/theme.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:17:\"modules/cck/theme\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:47:\"template_preprocess_content_field_overview_form\";}}s:29:\"content_display_overview_form\";a:9:{s:8:\"template\";s:35:\"content-admin-display-overview-form\";s:4:\"file\";s:9:\"theme.inc\";s:4:\"path\";s:17:\"modules/cck/theme\";s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:11:\"modules/cck\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/cck/theme/theme.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:17:\"modules/cck/theme\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:49:\"template_preprocess_content_display_overview_form\";}}s:15:\"content_exclude\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:7:\"content\";N;s:6:\"object\";a:0:{}s:7:\"context\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:11:\"modules/cck\";s:8:\"function\";s:21:\"theme_content_exclude\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:11:\"modules/cck\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:27:\"content_view_multiple_field\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:5:\"items\";N;s:5:\"field\";N;s:4:\"data\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:11:\"modules/cck\";s:8:\"function\";s:33:\"theme_content_view_multiple_field\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:11:\"modules/cck\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:23:\"content_multiple_values\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:11:\"modules/cck\";s:8:\"function\";s:29:\"theme_content_multiple_values\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:11:\"modules/cck\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:13:\"dblog_filters\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:13:\"modules/dblog\";s:8:\"function\";s:19:\"theme_dblog_filters\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:13:\"modules/dblog\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:21:\"filter_admin_overview\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"filter.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/filter\";s:8:\"function\";s:27:\"theme_filter_admin_overview\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/filter/filter.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/filter\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"filter_admin_order\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"filter.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/filter\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_filter_admin_order\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/filter/filter.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/filter\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:11:\"filter_tips\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:4:\"tips\";N;s:4:\"long\";b:0;s:5:\"extra\";s:0:\"\";}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"filter.pages.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/filter\";s:8:\"function\";s:17:\"theme_filter_tips\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/filter/filter.pages.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/filter\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:21:\"filter_tips_more_info\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:0:{}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/filter\";s:8:\"function\";s:27:\"theme_filter_tips_more_info\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/filter\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:21:\"iframe_field_settings\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/iframe\";s:8:\"function\";s:27:\"theme_iframe_field_settings\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/iframe\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:24:\"iframe_formatter_default\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/iframe\";s:8:\"function\";s:30:\"theme_iframe_formatter_default\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/iframe\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:27:\"iframe_formatter_iframeonly\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/iframe\";s:8:\"function\";s:33:\"theme_iframe_formatter_iframeonly\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/iframe\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:22:\"iframe_formatter_asurl\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/iframe\";s:8:\"function\";s:28:\"theme_iframe_formatter_asurl\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/iframe\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:30:\"iframe_formatter_asurl_withuri\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/iframe\";s:8:\"function\";s:36:\"theme_iframe_formatter_asurl_withuri\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/iframe\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:6:\"iframe\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/iframe\";s:8:\"function\";s:12:\"theme_iframe\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/iframe\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"languageicons_icon\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:8:\"language\";N;s:5:\"title\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:21:\"modules/languageicons\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_languageicons_icon\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:21:\"modules/languageicons\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:19:\"languageicons_place\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:4:\"text\";N;s:4:\"icon\";N;s:9:\"separator\";s:1:\" \";}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:21:\"modules/languageicons\";s:8:\"function\";s:25:\"theme_languageicons_place\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:21:\"modules/languageicons\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:30:\"locale_languages_overview_form\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/locale\";s:8:\"function\";s:36:\"theme_locale_languages_overview_form\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/locale\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"menu_overview_form\";a:8:{s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"menu.admin.inc\";s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/menu\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_menu_overview_form\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/menu/menu.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/menu\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:4:\"node\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:4:\"node\";N;s:6:\"teaser\";b:0;s:4:\"page\";b:0;}s:8:\"template\";s:17:\"modules/node/node\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:3:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:24:\"template_preprocess_node\";i:2;s:23:\"content_preprocess_node\";}}s:9:\"node_list\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:5:\"items\";N;s:5:\"title\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_node_list\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:17:\"node_search_admin\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:23:\"theme_node_search_admin\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:16:\"node_filter_form\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"node.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:22:\"theme_node_filter_form\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/node/node.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:12:\"node_filters\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"node.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:18:\"theme_node_filters\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/node/node.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:16:\"node_admin_nodes\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"node.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:22:\"theme_node_admin_nodes\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/node/node.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:13:\"node_add_list\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"content\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"node.pages.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:19:\"theme_node_add_list\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/node/node.pages.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:9:\"node_form\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"node.pages.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_node_form\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/node/node.pages.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:12:\"node_preview\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"node\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"node.pages.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:18:\"theme_node_preview\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/node/node.pages.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:16:\"node_log_message\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:3:\"log\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:22:\"theme_node_log_message\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:14:\"node_submitted\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"node\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/node\";s:8:\"function\";s:20:\"theme_node_submitted\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/node\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:8:\"site_map\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:0:{}s:8:\"template\";s:25:\"modules/site_map/site-map\";s:4:\"file\";s:18:\"site_map.theme.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/site_map\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:37:\"./modules/site_map/site_map.theme.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/site_map\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:28:\"template_preprocess_site_map\";}}s:12:\"site_map_box\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:5:\"title\";N;s:7:\"content\";N;s:5:\"class\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:18:\"site_map.theme.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/site_map\";s:8:\"function\";s:18:\"theme_site_map_box\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:37:\"./modules/site_map/site_map.theme.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/site_map\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"site_map_feed_icon\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:3:\"url\";N;s:4:\"type\";s:4:\"node\";}s:4:\"file\";s:18:\"site_map.theme.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/site_map\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_site_map_feed_icon\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:37:\"./modules/site_map/site_map.theme.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/site_map\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"site_map_menu_tree\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"tree\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:18:\"site_map.theme.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/site_map\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_site_map_menu_tree\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:37:\"./modules/site_map/site_map.theme.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/site_map\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"site_map_menu_item\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:4:\"link\";N;s:12:\"has_children\";N;s:4:\"menu\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:18:\"site_map.theme.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/site_map\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_site_map_menu_item\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:37:\"./modules/site_map/site_map.theme.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/site_map\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:19:\"site_map_rss_legend\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:0:{}s:4:\"file\";s:18:\"site_map.theme.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/site_map\";s:8:\"function\";s:25:\"theme_site_map_rss_legend\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:37:\"./modules/site_map/site_map.theme.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/site_map\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:11:\"placeholder\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"text\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:17:\"theme_placeholder\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:4:\"page\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:7:\"content\";N;s:11:\"show_blocks\";b:1;s:13:\"show_messages\";b:1;}s:8:\"template\";s:19:\"modules/system/page\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:5:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:24:\"template_preprocess_page\";i:2;s:24:\"i18nmenu_preprocess_page\";i:3;s:20:\"i18n_preprocess_page\";i:4;s:25:\"nodewords_preprocess_page\";}}s:16:\"maintenance_page\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:7:\"content\";N;s:11:\"show_blocks\";b:1;s:13:\"show_messages\";b:1;}s:8:\"template\";s:31:\"modules/system/maintenance-page\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:11:\"update_page\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:7:\"content\";N;s:13:\"show_messages\";b:1;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:17:\"theme_update_page\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:12:\"install_page\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"content\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:18:\"theme_install_page\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:9:\"task_list\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:5:\"items\";N;s:6:\"active\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_task_list\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:15:\"status_messages\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"display\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:21:\"theme_status_messages\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:5:\"links\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:5:\"links\";N;s:10:\"attributes\";a:1:{s:5:\"class\";s:5:\"links\";}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:11:\"theme_links\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:5:\"image\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:5:{s:4:\"path\";N;s:3:\"alt\";s:0:\"\";s:5:\"title\";s:0:\"\";s:10:\"attributes\";N;s:7:\"getsize\";b:1;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:11:\"theme_image\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:10:\"breadcrumb\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:10:\"breadcrumb\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:16:\"theme_breadcrumb\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:4:\"help\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:0:{}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:10:\"theme_help\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:7:\"submenu\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:5:\"links\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:13:\"theme_submenu\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:5:\"table\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:4:{s:6:\"header\";N;s:4:\"rows\";N;s:10:\"attributes\";a:0:{}s:7:\"caption\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:11:\"theme_table\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:24:\"table_select_header_cell\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:0:{}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:30:\"theme_table_select_header_cell\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:19:\"tablesort_indicator\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:5:\"style\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:25:\"theme_tablesort_indicator\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:3:\"box\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:5:\"title\";N;s:7:\"content\";N;s:6:\"region\";s:4:\"main\";}s:8:\"template\";s:18:\"modules/system/box\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:5:\"block\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:5:\"block\";N;}s:8:\"template\";s:20:\"modules/system/block\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:3:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:25:\"template_preprocess_block\";i:2;s:27:\"i18nblocks_preprocess_block\";}}s:4:\"mark\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"type\";i:1;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:10:\"theme_mark\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:9:\"item_list\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:4:{s:5:\"items\";a:0:{}s:5:\"title\";N;s:4:\"type\";s:2:\"ul\";s:10:\"attributes\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_item_list\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:14:\"more_help_link\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:3:\"url\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:20:\"theme_more_help_link\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:8:\"xml_icon\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:3:\"url\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:14:\"theme_xml_icon\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:9:\"feed_icon\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:3:\"url\";N;s:5:\"title\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_feed_icon\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:9:\"more_link\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:3:\"url\";N;s:5:\"title\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_more_link\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:7:\"closure\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"main\";i:0;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:13:\"theme_closure\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:6:\"blocks\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:6:\"region\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:12:\"theme_blocks\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:8:\"username\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:6:\"object\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:14:\"theme_username\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:12:\"progress_bar\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:7:\"percent\";N;s:7:\"message\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:18:\"theme_progress_bar\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:11:\"indentation\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"size\";i:1;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:17:\"theme_indentation\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:5:\"pager\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:4:{s:4:\"tags\";a:0:{}s:5:\"limit\";i:10;s:7:\"element\";i:0;s:10:\"parameters\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:11:\"theme_pager\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:11:\"pager_first\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:4:{s:4:\"text\";N;s:5:\"limit\";N;s:7:\"element\";i:0;s:10:\"parameters\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:17:\"theme_pager_first\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:14:\"pager_previous\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:5:{s:4:\"text\";N;s:5:\"limit\";N;s:7:\"element\";i:0;s:8:\"interval\";i:1;s:10:\"parameters\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:20:\"theme_pager_previous\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:10:\"pager_next\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:5:{s:4:\"text\";N;s:5:\"limit\";N;s:7:\"element\";i:0;s:8:\"interval\";i:1;s:10:\"parameters\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:16:\"theme_pager_next\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:10:\"pager_last\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:4:{s:4:\"text\";N;s:5:\"limit\";N;s:7:\"element\";i:0;s:10:\"parameters\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:16:\"theme_pager_last\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:10:\"pager_link\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:5:{s:4:\"text\";N;s:8:\"page_new\";N;s:7:\"element\";N;s:10:\"parameters\";a:0:{}s:10:\"attributes\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:16:\"theme_pager_link\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:14:\"menu_item_link\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"item\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:20:\"theme_menu_item_link\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:9:\"menu_tree\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"tree\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_menu_tree\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:9:\"menu_item\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:4:\"link\";N;s:12:\"has_children\";N;s:4:\"menu\";s:0:\"\";}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_menu_item\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:15:\"menu_local_task\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:4:\"link\";N;s:6:\"active\";b:0;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:21:\"theme_menu_local_task\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:16:\"menu_local_tasks\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:0:{}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:22:\"theme_menu_local_tasks\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:6:\"select\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:12:\"theme_select\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:8:\"fieldset\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:14:\"theme_fieldset\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:5:\"radio\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:11:\"theme_radio\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:6:\"radios\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:12:\"theme_radios\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:16:\"password_confirm\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:22:\"theme_password_confirm\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:4:\"date\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:10:\"theme_date\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:4:\"item\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:10:\"theme_item\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:8:\"checkbox\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:14:\"theme_checkbox\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:10:\"checkboxes\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:16:\"theme_checkboxes\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:6:\"submit\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:12:\"theme_submit\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:6:\"button\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:12:\"theme_button\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:12:\"image_button\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:18:\"theme_image_button\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:6:\"hidden\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:12:\"theme_hidden\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:5:\"token\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:11:\"theme_token\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:9:\"textfield\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_textfield\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:4:\"form\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:10:\"theme_form\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:8:\"textarea\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:14:\"theme_textarea\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:6:\"markup\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:12:\"theme_markup\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:8:\"password\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:14:\"theme_password\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:4:\"file\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:10:\"theme_file\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:12:\"form_element\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:7:\"element\";N;s:5:\"value\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:18:\"theme_form_element\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:24:\"system_theme_select_form\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:30:\"theme_system_theme_select_form\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"system_themes_form\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_system_themes_form\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:14:\"system_modules\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:20:\"theme_system_modules\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:24:\"system_modules_uninstall\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:30:\"theme_system_modules_uninstall\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:13:\"status_report\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:12:\"requirements\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:19:\"theme_status_report\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:10:\"admin_page\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:6:\"blocks\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:16:\"theme_admin_page\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:11:\"admin_block\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:5:\"block\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:17:\"theme_admin_block\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:19:\"admin_block_content\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"content\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:25:\"theme_admin_block_content\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:22:\"system_admin_by_module\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:10:\"menu_items\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:16:\"system.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:28:\"theme_system_admin_by_module\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:33:\"./modules/system/system.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:17:\"system_powered_by\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:10:\"image_path\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/system\";s:8:\"function\";s:23:\"theme_system_powered_by\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/system\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:20:\"taxonomy_term_select\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/taxonomy\";s:8:\"function\";s:26:\"theme_taxonomy_term_select\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/taxonomy\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"taxonomy_term_page\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:4:\"tids\";a:0:{}s:6:\"result\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/taxonomy\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_taxonomy_term_page\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/taxonomy\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:30:\"taxonomy_overview_vocabularies\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/taxonomy\";s:8:\"function\";s:36:\"theme_taxonomy_overview_vocabularies\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/taxonomy\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:23:\"taxonomy_overview_terms\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:16:\"modules/taxonomy\";s:8:\"function\";s:29:\"theme_taxonomy_overview_terms\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:16:\"modules/taxonomy\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:15:\"update_settings\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/update\";s:8:\"function\";s:21:\"theme_update_settings\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/update\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:13:\"update_report\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"data\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/update\";s:8:\"function\";s:19:\"theme_update_report\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/update\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:14:\"update_version\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:3:{s:7:\"version\";N;s:3:\"tag\";N;s:5:\"class\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:14:\"modules/update\";s:8:\"function\";s:20:\"theme_update_version\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:14:\"modules/update\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:12:\"user_picture\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"account\";N;}s:8:\"template\";s:25:\"modules/user/user-picture\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:32:\"template_preprocess_user_picture\";}}s:12:\"user_profile\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"account\";N;}s:8:\"template\";s:25:\"modules/user/user-profile\";s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"user.pages.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/user/user.pages.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:32:\"template_preprocess_user_profile\";}}s:21:\"user_profile_category\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:8:\"template\";s:34:\"modules/user/user-profile-category\";s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"user.pages.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/user/user.pages.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:41:\"template_preprocess_user_profile_category\";}}s:17:\"user_profile_item\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:8:\"template\";s:30:\"modules/user/user-profile-item\";s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"user.pages.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/user/user.pages.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:2:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";i:1;s:37:\"template_preprocess_user_profile_item\";}}s:9:\"user_list\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:2:{s:5:\"users\";N;s:5:\"title\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:8:\"function\";s:15:\"theme_user_list\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:15:\"user_admin_perm\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"user.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:8:\"function\";s:21:\"theme_user_admin_perm\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/user/user.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:19:\"user_admin_new_role\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"user.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:8:\"function\";s:25:\"theme_user_admin_new_role\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/user/user.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:18:\"user_admin_account\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"user.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:8:\"function\";s:24:\"theme_user_admin_account\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/user/user.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:16:\"user_filter_form\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"user.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:8:\"function\";s:22:\"theme_user_filter_form\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/user/user.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:12:\"user_filters\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"user.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:8:\"function\";s:18:\"theme_user_filters\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/user/user.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:14:\"user_signature\";a:7:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:9:\"signature\";N;}s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/user\";s:8:\"function\";s:20:\"theme_user_signature\";s:13:\"include files\";a:0:{}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/user\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:28:\"i18n_node_select_translation\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:7:\"element\";N;}s:4:\"file\";s:14:\"i18n.pages.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:12:\"modules/i18n\";s:8:\"function\";s:34:\"theme_i18n_node_select_translation\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:29:\"./modules/i18n/i18n.pages.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:12:\"modules/i18n\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}s:24:\"nodewords_pages_overview\";a:8:{s:9:\"arguments\";a:1:{s:4:\"form\";a:0:{}}s:4:\"file\";s:19:\"nodewords.admin.inc\";s:4:\"type\";s:6:\"module\";s:10:\"theme path\";s:17:\"modules/nodewords\";s:8:\"function\";s:30:\"theme_nodewords_pages_overview\";s:13:\"include files\";a:1:{i:0;s:39:\"./modules/nodewords/nodewords.admin.inc\";}s:11:\"theme paths\";a:1:{i:0;s:17:\"modules/nodewords\";}s:20:\"preprocess functions\";a:1:{i:0;s:19:\"template_preprocess\";}}}', created = 1594068508, expire = 0, headers = '', serialized = 1 WHERE cid = 'theme_registry:' in /home/piv1691/theosophy-mm.net/www/includes/cache.inc on line 108.
  • warning: array_map(): Argument #2 should be an array in /home/piv1691/theosophy-mm.net/www/modules/system/system.module on line 1020.
  • warning: array_keys() expects parameter 1 to be array, null given in /home/piv1691/theosophy-mm.net/www/includes/theme.inc on line 1832.
  • warning: Invalid argument supplied for foreach() in /home/piv1691/theosophy-mm.net/www/includes/theme.inc on line 1832.

BOOK III.
Canto I. The Hermitage.
When Ráma, valiant hero, stood
In the vast shade of Daṇḍak wood,
His eyes on every side he bent
And saw a hermit settlement,
Where coats of bark were hung around,
And holy grass bestrewed the ground.
Bright with Bráhmanic lustre glowed
That circle where the saints abode:
Like the hot sun in heaven it shone,
Too dazzling to be looked upon.
Wild creatures found a refuge where
The court, well-swept, was bright and fair,
And countless birds and roedeer made
Their dwelling in the friendly shade.
Beneath the boughs of well-loved trees
Oft danced the gay Apsarases.401
Around was many an ample shed
Wherein the holy fire was fed;
With sacred grass and skins of deer,
Ladles and sacrificial gear,
And roots and fruit, and wood to burn,
401Heavenly nymphs.
808
The Ramayana
And many a brimming water-urn.
Tall trees their hallowed branches spread,
Laden with pleasant fruit, o'erhead;
And gifts which holy laws require,402
And solemn offerings burnt with fire,403
And Veda chants on every side
That home of hermits sanctified.
There many a flower its odour shed,
And lotus blooms the lake o'erspred.
There, clad in coats of bark and hide,—
Their food by roots and fruit supplied,—
Dwelt many an old and reverend sire
Bright as the sun or Lord of Fire,
All with each worldly sense subdued,
A pure and saintly multitude.
The Veda chants, the saints who trod
The sacred ground and mused on God,
Made that delightful grove appear
Like Brahmá's own most glorious sphere.
As Raghu's splendid son surveyed
That hermit home and tranquil shade,
He loosed his mighty bow-string, then
Drew nearer to the holy men.
[230]
With keen celestial sight endued
Those mighty saints the chieftain viewed,
With joy to meet the prince they came,
And gentle Sítá dear to fame.
They looked on virtuous Ráma, fair
As Soma404in the evening air,
And Lakshmaṇ by his brother's side,
402The ball or present of food to all created beings.
403The clarified butter &c. cast into the sacred fire.
404The Moon-God: “he is,” says the commentator, “the special deity of
Bráhmans.”
Canto I. The Hermitage.
809
And Sítá long in duty tried,
And with glad blessings every sage
Received them in the hermitage.
Then Ráma's form and stature tall
Entranced the wondering eyes of all,—
His youthful grace, his strength of limb,
And garb that nobly sat on him.
To Lakshmaṇ too their looks they raised,
And upon Sítá's beauty gazed
With eyes that closed not lest their sight
Should miss the vision of delight.
Then the pure hermits of the wood,
Rejoicing in all creatures' good,
Their guest, the glorious Ráma, led
Within a cot with leaves o'erhead.
With highest honour all the best
Of radiant saints received their guest,
With kind observance, as is meet,
And gave him water for his feet.
To highest pitch of rapture wrought
Their stores of roots and fruit they brought.
They poured their blessings on his head,
And “All we have is thine,” they said.
Then, reverent hand to hand applied,405
Each duty-loving hermit cried:
“The king is our protector, bright
In fame, maintainer of the right.
He bears the awful sword, and hence
Deserves an elder's reverence.
One fourth of Indra's essence, he
Preserves his realm from danger free,
405“Because he was an incarnation of the deity,” says the commentator, “oth-
erwise such honour paid by men of the sacerdotal caste to one of the military
would be improper.”
810
The Ramayana
Hence honoured by the world of right
The king enjoys each choice delight.
Thou shouldst to us protection give,
For in thy realm, dear lord, we live:
Whether in town or wood thou be,
Thou art our king, thy people we.
Our wordly aims are laid aside,
Our hearts are tamed and purified.
To thee our guardian, we who earn
Our only wealth by penance turn.”
Then the pure dwellers in the shade
To Raghu's son due honour paid,
And Lakshmaṇ, bringing store of roots,
And many a flower, and woodland fruits.
And others strove the prince to please
With all attentive courtesies.
Canto II. Virádha.
Thus entertained he passed the night,
Then, with the morning's early light,
To all the hermits bade adieu
And sought his onward way anew.
He pierced the mighty forest where
Roamed many a deer and pard and bear:
Its ruined pools he scarce could see.
For creeper rent and prostrate tree,
Where shrill cicada's cries were heard,
And plaintive notes of many a bird.
Deep in the thickets of the wood
Canto II. Virádha.
811
With Lakshmaṇ and his spouse he stood,
There in the horrid shade he saw
A giant passing nature's law:
Vast as some mountain-peak in size,
With mighty voice and sunken eyes,
Huge, hideous, tall, with monstrous face,
Most ghastly of his giant race.
A tiger's hide the Rákshas wore
Still reeking with the fat and gore:
Huge-faced, like Him who rules the dead,
All living things he struck with dread.
Three lions, tigers four, ten deer
He carried on his iron spear,
Two wolves, an elephant's head beside
With mighty tusks which blood-drops dyed.
When on the three his fierce eye fell,
He charged them with a roar and yell
As furious as the grisly King
When stricken worlds are perishing.
Then with a mighty roar that shook
The earth beneath their feet, he took
The trembling Sítá to his side.
Withdrew a little space, and cried:
“Ha, short lived wretches, ye who dare,
In hermit dress with matted hair,
Armed each with arrows, sword, and bow,
Through Daṇḍak's pathless wood to go:
How with one dame, I bid you tell,
Can you among ascetics dwell?
Who are ye, sinners, who despise
The right, in holy men's disguise?
The great Virádha, day by day
Through this deep-tangled wood I stray,
And ever, armed with trusty steel,
812
The Ramayana
I seize a saint to make my meal.
This woman young and fair of frame
Shall be the conquering giant's dame:
Your blood, ye things of evil life,
My lips shall quaff in battle strife.”
He spoke: and Janak's hapless child,
Scared by his speech so fierce and wild,
[231]
Trembled for terror, as a frail
Young plantain shivers in the gale.
When Ráma saw Virádha clasp
Fair Sítá in his mighty grasp,
Thus with pale lips that terror dried
The hero to his brother cried:
“O see Virádha's arm enfold
My darling in its cursed hold,—
The child of Janak best of kings,
My spouse whose soul to virtue clings,
Sweet princess, with pure glory bright,
Nursed in the lap of soft delight.
Now falls the blow Kaikeyí meant,
Successful in her dark intent:
This day her cruel soul will be
Triumphant over thee and me.
Though Bharat on the throne is set,
Her greedy eyes look farther yet:
Me from my home she dared expel,
Me whom all creatures loved so well.
This fatal day at length, I ween,
Brings triumph to the younger queen.
I see with bitterest grief and shame
Another touch the Maithil dame.
Not loss of sire and royal power
So grieves me as this mournful hour.”
Canto III. Virádha Attacked.
813
Thus in his anguish cried the chief:
Then drowned in tears, o'erwhelmed by grief,
Thus Lakshmaṇ in his anger spake,
Quick panting like a spell-bound snake:
“Canst thou, my brother, Indra's peer,
When I thy minister am near,
Thus grieve like some forsaken thing,
Thou, every creature's lord and king?
My vengeful shaft the fiend shall slay,
And earth shall drink his blood to-day.
The fury which my soul at first
Upon usurping Bharat nursed,
On this Virádha will I wreak
As Indra splits the mountain peak.
Winged by this arm's impetuous might
My shaft with deadly force
The monster in the chest shall smite,
And fell his shattered corse.”
Canto III. Virádha Attacked.
Virádha with a fearful shout
That echoed through the wood, cried out:
“What men are ye, I bid you say,
And whither would ye bend your way?”
814
The Ramayana
To him whose mouth shot fiery flame
The hero told his race and name:
“Two Warriors, nobly bred, are we,
And through this wood we wander free.
But who art thou, how born and styled,
Who roamest here in Daṇḍak's wild?”
To Ráma, bravest of the brave,
His answer thus Virádha gave:
“Hear, Raghu's son, and mark me well,
And I my name and race will tell.
Of Śatahradá born, I spring
From Java as my sire, O King:
Me, of this lofty lineage, all
Giants on earth Virádha call.
The rites austere I long maintained
From Brahmá's grace the boon have gained
To bear a charmed frame which ne'er
Weapon or shaft may pierce or tear.
Go as ye came, untouched by fear,
And leave with me this woman here:
Go, swiftly from my presence fly,
Or by this hand ye both shall die.”
Then Ráma with his fierce eyes red
With fury to the giant said:
“Woe to thee, sinner, fond and weak,
Who madly thus thy death wilt seek!
Stand, for it waits thee in the fray:
With life thou ne'er shalt flee away.”
Canto III. Virádha Attacked.
815
He spoke, and raised the cord whereon
A pointed arrow flashed and shone,
Then, wild with anger, from his bow,
He launched the weapon on the foe.
Seven times the fatal cord he drew,
And forth seven rapid arrows flew,
Shafts winged with gold that left the wind
And e'en Suparṇa's406self behind.
Full on the giant's breast they smote,
And purpled like the peacock's throat,
Passed through his mighty bulk and came
To earth again like flakes of flame.
The fiend the Maithil dame unclasped;
In his fierce hand his spear he grasped,
And wild with rage, pierced through and through,
At Ráma and his brother flew.
So loud the roar which chilled with fear,
So massy was the monster's spear,
He seemed, like Indra's flagstaff, dread
As the dark God who rules the dead.
On huge Virádha fierce as He407
Who smites, and worlds have ceased to be,
The princely brothers poured amain
Their fiery flood of arrowy rain.
Unmoved he stood, and opening wide
His dire mouth laughed unterrified,
And ever as the monster gaped
Those arrows from his jaws escaped.
Preserving still his life unharmed,
By Brahmá's saving promise charmed,
His mighty spear aloft in air
He raised, and rushed upon the pair.
406The king of birds.
407Kálántakayamopamam, resembling Yáma the destroyer.
816
The Ramayana
From Ráma's bow two arrows flew
And cleft that massive spear in two,
[232]
Dire as the flaming levin sent
From out the cloudy firmament.
Cut by the shafts he guided well
To earth the giant's weapon fell:
As when from Meru's summit, riven
By fiery bolts, a rock is driven.
Then swift his sword each warrior drew,
Like a dread serpent black of hue,
And gathering fury for the blow
Rushed fiercely on the giant foe.
Around each prince an arm he cast,
And held the dauntless heroes fast:
Then, though his gashes gaped and bled,
Bearing the twain he turned and fled.
Then Ráma saw the giant's plan,
And to his brother thus began:
“O Lakshmaṇ, let Virádha still
Hurry us onward as he will,
For look, Sumitrá's son, he goes
Along the path we freely chose.”
He spoke: the rover of the night
Upraised them with terrific might,
Till, to his lofty shoulders swung,
Like children to his neck they clung.
Then sending far his fearful roar,
The princes through the wood he bore,—
A wood like some vast cloud to view,
Where birds of every plumage flew,
And mighty trees o'erarching threw
Dark shadows on the ground;
Canto IV. Virádha's Death.
817
Where snakes and silvan creatures made
Their dwelling, and the jackal strayed
Through tangled brakes around.
Canto IV. Virádha's Death.
But Sítá viewed with wild affright
The heroes hurried from her sight.
She tossed her shapely arms on high,
And shrieked aloud her bitter cry:
“Ah, the dread giant bears away
The princely Ráma as his prey,
Truthful and pure, and good and great,
And Lakshmaṇ shares his brother's fate.
The brindled tiger and the bear
My mangled limbs for food will tear.
Take me, O best of giants, me,
And leave the sons of Raghu free.”
818
The Ramayana
Then, by avenging fury spurred,
Her mournful cry the heroes heard,
And hastened, for the lady's sake,
The wicked monster's life to take.
Then Lakshmaṇ with resistless stroke
The foe's left arm that held him broke,
And Ráma too, as swift to smite,
Smashed with his heavy hand the right.
With broken arms and tortured frame
To earth the fainting giant came,
Like a huge cloud, or mighty rock
Rent, sundered by the levin's shock.
Then rushed they on, and crushed and beat
Their foe with arms and fists and feet,
And nerved each mighty limb to pound
And bray him on the level ground.
Keen arrows and each biting blade
Wide rents in breast and side had made;
But crushed and torn and mangled, still
The monster lived they could not kill.
When Ráma saw no arms might slay
The fiend who like a mountain lay,
The glorious hero, swift to save
In danger, thus his counsel gave:
“O Prince of men, his charmed life
No arms may take in battle strife:
Now dig we in this grove a pit
His elephantine bulk to fit,
And let the hollowed earth enfold
The monster of gigantic mould.”
This said, the son of Raghu pressed
His foot upon the giant's breast.
With joy the prostrate monster heard
Canto IV. Virádha's Death.
819
Victorious Ráma's welcome word,
And straight Kakutstha's son, the best
Of men, in words like these addressed:
“I yield, O chieftain, overthrown
By might that vies with Indra's own.
Till now my folly-blinded eyes
Thee, hero, failed to recognize.
Happy Kauśalyá! blest to be
The mother of a son like thee!
I know thee well, O chieftain, now:
Ráma, the prince of men, art thou.
There stands the high-born Maithil dame,
There Lakshmaṇ, lord of mighty fame.
My name was Tumburu,408for song
Renowned among the minstrel throng:
Cursed by Kuvera's stern decree
I wear the hideous shape you see.
But when I sued, his grace to crave,
The glorious God this answer gave:
“When Ráma, Daśaratha's son,
Destroys thee and the fight is won,
Thy proper shape once more assume,
And heaven again shall give thee room.”
When thus the angry God replied,
No prayers could turn his wrath aside,
And thus on me his fury fell
For loving Rambhá's409charms too well.
Now through thy favour am I freed
From the stern fate the God decreed,
And saved, O tamer of the foe,
[233]
408SomewhatinconsistentlywiththispartofthestoryTumburuismentionedin
Book II, Canto XII as one of the Gandharvas or heavenly minstrels summoned
to perform at Bharadvája's feast.
409Rambhá appears in Book I Canto LXIV as the temptress of Viśvámitra.
820
The Ramayana
By thee, to heaven again shall go.
A league, O Prince, beyond this spot
Stands holy Śarabhanga's cot:
The very sun is not more bright
Than that most glorious anchorite:
To him, O Ráma, quickly turn,
And blessings from the hermit earn.
First under earth my body throw,
Then on thy way rejoicing go.
Such is the law ordained of old
For giants when their days are told:
Their bodies laid in earth, they rise
To homes eternal in the skies.”
Thus, by the rankling dart oppressed,
Kakutstha's offspring he addressed:
In earth his mighty body lay,
His spirit fled to heaven away.
Thus spake Virádha ere he died;
And Ráma to his brother cried:
“Now dig we in this grove a pit
His elephantine bulk to fit.
And let the hollowed earth enfold
This mighty giant fierce and bold.”
Canto IV. Virádha's Death.
821
This said, the valiant hero put
Upon the giant's neck his foot.
His spade obedient Lakshmaṇ plied,
And dug a pit both deep and wide
By lofty souled Virádha's side.
Then Raghu's son his foot withdrew,
And down the mighty form they threw;
One awful shout of joy he gave
And sank into the open grave.
The heroes, to their purpose true,
In fight the cruel demon slew,
And radiant with delight
Deep in the hollowed earth they cast
The monster roaring to the last,
In their resistless might.
Thus when they saw the warrior's steel
No life-destroying blow might deal,
The pair, for lore renowned,
Deep in the pit their hands had made
The unresisting giant laid,
And killed him neath the ground.
Upon himself the monster brought
From Ráma's hand the death he sought
With strong desire to gain:
And thus the rover of the night
Told Ráma, as they strove in fight,
That swords might rend and arrows smite
Upon his breast in vain.
Thus Ráma, when his speech he heard,
The giant's mighty form interred,
Which mortal arms defied.
With thundering crash the giant fell,
And rock and cave and forest dell
With echoing roar replied.
822
The Ramayana
The princes, when their task was done
And freedom from the peril won,
Rejoiced to see him die.
Then in the boundless wood they strayed,
Like the great sun and moon displayed
Triumphant in the sky.410
Canto V. Sarabhanga.
Then Ráma, having slain in fight
Virádha of terrific might,
With gentle words his spouse consoled,
And clasped her in his loving hold.
Then to his brother nobly brave
The valiant prince his counsel gave:
“Wild are these woods around us spread;
And hard and rough the ground to tread:
We, O my brother, ne'er have viewed
So dark and drear a solitude:
To Śarabhanga let us haste,
Whom wealth of holy works has graced.”
410The conclusion of this Canto is all a vain repetition: it is manifestly spurious
and a very feeble imitation of Válmíki's style. See Additional Notes.
Canto V. Sarabhanga.
823
Thus Ráma spoke, and took the road
To Śarabhanga's pure abode.
But near that saint whose lustre vied
With Gods, by penance purified,
With startled eyes the prince beheld
A wondrous sight unparalleled.
In splendour like the fire and sun
He saw a great and glorious one.
Upon a noble car he rode,
And many a God behind him glowed:
And earth beneath his feet unpressed411
The monarch of the skies confessed.
Ablaze with gems, no dust might dim
The bright attire that covered him.
Arrayed like him, on every side
High saints their master glorified.
Near, borne in air, appeared in view
His car which tawny coursers drew,
Like silver cloud, the moon, or sun
Ere yet the day is well begun.
Wreathed with gay garlands, o'er his head
A pure white canopy was spread,
And lovely nymphs stood nigh to hold
Fair chouris with their sticks of gold,
Which, waving in each gentle hand,
The forehead of their monarch fanned.
God, saint, and bard, a radiant ring,
Sang glory to their heavenly King:
Forth into joyful lauds they burst
As Indra with the sage conversed.
Then Ráma, when his wondering eyes
Beheld the monarch of the skies,
[234]
411“Even when he had alighted,” says the commentator: The feet of Gods do
not touch the ground.
824
The Ramayana
To Lakshmaṇ quickly called, and showed
The car wherein Lord Indra rode:
“See, brother, see that air-borne car,
Whose wondrous glory shines afar:
Wherefrom so bright a lustre streams
That like a falling sun it seems:
These are the steeds whose fame we know,
Of heavenly race through heaven they go:
These are the steeds who bear the yoke
Of Śakra,412Him whom all invoke.
Behold these youths, a glorious band,
Toward every wind a hundred stand:
A sword in each right hand is borne,
And rings of gold their arms adorn.
What might in every broad deep chest
And club-like arm is manifest!
Clothed in attire of crimson hue
They show like tigers fierce to view.
Great chains of gold each warder deck,
Gleaming like fire beneath his neck.
The age of each fair youth appears
Some score and five of human years:
The ever-blooming prime which they
Who live in heaven retain for aye:
Such mien these lordly beings wear,
Heroic youths, most bright and fair.
Now, brother, in this spot, I pray,
With the Videhan lady stay,
Till I have certain knowledge who
This being is, so bright to view.”
412A name of Indra.
Canto V. Sarabhanga.
825
He spoke, and turning from the spot
Sought Śarabhanga's hermit cot.
But when the lord of Śachí413saw
The son of Raghu near him draw,
He hastened of the sage to take
His leave, and to his followers spake:
“See, Ráma bends his steps this way,
But ere he yet a word can say,
Come, fly to our celestial sphere;
It is not meet he see me here.
Soon victor and triumphant he
In fitter time shall look on me.
Before him still a great emprise,
A task too hard for others, lies.”
Then with all marks of honour high
The Thunderer bade the saint good-bye,
And in his car which coursers drew
Away to heaven the conqueror flew.
Then Ráma, Lakshmaṇ, and the dame,
To Śarabhanga nearer came,
Who sat beside the holy flame.
Before the ancient sage they bent,
And clasped his feet most reverent;
Then at his invitation found
A seat beside him on the ground.
Then Ráma prayed the sage would deign
Lord Indra's visit to explain;
And thus at length the holy man
In answer to his prayer began:
413Śachí is the consort of Indra.
826
The Ramayana
“This Lord of boons has sought me here
To waft me hence to Brahmá's sphere,
Won by my penance long and stern,—
A home the lawless ne'er can earn.
But when I knew that thou wast nigh,
To Brahmá's world I could not fly
Until these longing eyes were blest
With seeing thee, mine honoured guest.
Since thou, O Prince, hast cheered my sight,
Great-hearted lover of the right,
To heavenly spheres will I repair
And bliss supreme that waits me there.
For I have won, dear Prince, my way
To those fair worlds which ne'er decay,
Celestial seat of Brahmá's reign:
Be thine, with me, those worlds to gain.”
Then master of all sacred lore,
Spake Ráma to the saint once more:
“I, even I, illustrious sage,
Will make those worlds mine heritage:
But now, I pray, some home assign
Within this holy grove of thine.”
Thus Ráma, Indra's peer in might,
Addressed the aged anchorite:
And he, with wisdom well endued,
To Raghu's son his speech renewed:
Canto V. Sarabhanga.
827
“Sutíkshṇa's woodland home is near,
A glorious saint of life austere,
True to the path of duty; he
With highest bliss will prosper thee.
Against the stream thy course must be
Of this fair brook Mandákiní,
Whereon light rafts like blossoms glide;
Then to his cottage turn aside.
There lies thy path: but ere thou go,
Look on me, dear one, till I throw
Aside this mould that girds me in,
As casts the snake his withered skin.”
He spoke, the fire in order laid
With holy oil due offerings made,
And Śarabhanga, glorious sire,
Laid down his body in the fire.
Then rose the flame above his head,
On skin, blood, flesh, and bones it fed,
Till forth, transformed, with radiant hue
Of tender youth, he rose anew,
Far-shining in his bright attire
Came Śarabhanga from the pyre:
Above the home of saints, and those
Who feed the quenchless flame,414he rose:
Beyond the seat of Gods he passed,
And Brahmá's sphere was gained at last.
[235]
The noblest of the twice-born race,
For holy works supreme in place,
The Mighty Father there beheld
Girt round by hosts unparalleled;
414The spheres or mansions gained by those who have duly performed the
sacrifices required of them. Different situations are assigned to these spheres,
some placing them near the sun, others near the moon.
828
The Ramayana
And Brahmá joying at the sight
Welcomed the glorious anchorite.
Canto VI. Ráma's Promise.
When he his heavenly home had found,
The holy men who dwelt around
To Ráma flocked, whose martial fame
Shone glorious as the kindled flame:
Vaikhánasas415who love the wild,
Pure hermits Bálakhilyas416styled,
Good Samprakshálas,417saints who live
On rays which moon and daystar give:
Those who with leaves their lives sustain
And those who pound with stones their grain:
And they who lie in pools, and those
Whose corn, save teeth, no winnow knows:
Those who for beds the cold earth use,
And those who every couch refuse:
And those condemned to ceaseless pains,
Whose single foot their weight sustains:
And those who sleep neath open skies,
Whose food the wave or air supplies,
And hermits pure who spend their nights
415Hermits who live upon roots which they dig out of the earth: literally
diggers, derived from the prefix vi and khan to dig.
416Generally, divine personages of the height of a man's thumb, produced
from Brahmá's hair: here, according to the commentator followed by Gorresio,
hermits who when they have obtained fresh food throw away what they had
laid up before.
417Sprung from the washings of Vishṇuu's feet.
Canto VI. Ráma's Promise.
829
On ground prepared for sacred rites;
Those who on hills their vigil hold,
Or dripping clothes around them fold:
The devotees who live for prayer,
Or the five fires418unflinching bear.
On contemplation all intent,
With light that heavenly knowledge lent,
They came to Ráma, saint and sage,
In Śarabhanga's hermitage.
The hermit crowd around him pressed,
And thus the virtuous chief addressed:
“The lordship of the earth is thine,
O Prince of old Ikshváku's line.
Lord of the Gods is Indra, so
Thou art our lord and guide below.
Thy name, the glory of thy might,
Throughout the triple world are bright:
Thy filial love so nobly shown,
Thy truth and virtue well are known.
To thee, O lord, for help we fly,
And on thy love of right rely:
With kindly patience hear us speak,
And grant the boon we humbly seek.
That lord of earth were most unjust,
Foul traitor to his solemn trust,
Who should a sixth of all419require,
Nor guard his people like a sire.
But he who ever watchful strives
To guard his subjects' wealth and lives,
Dear as himself or, dearer still,
His sons, with earnest heart and will,—
That king, O Raghu's son, secures
418Four fires burning round them, and the sun above.
419The tax allowed to the king by the Laws of Manu.
830
The Ramayana
High fame that endless years endures,
And he to Brahmá's world shall rise,
Made glorious in the eternal skies.
Whate'er, by duty won, the meed
Of saints whom roots and berries feed,
One fourth thereof, for tender care
Of subjects, is the monarch's share.
These, mostly of the Bráhman race,
Who make the wood their dwelling-place,
Although a friend in thee they view,
Fall friendless neath the giant crew.
Come, Ráma, come, and see hard by
The holy hermits' corpses lie,
Where many a tangled pathway shows
The murderous work of cruel foes.
These wicked fiends the hermits kill—
Who live on Chitrakúṭa's hill,
And blood of slaughtered saints has dyed
Mandákiní and Pampá's side.
No longer can we bear to see
The death of saint and devotee
Whom through the forest day by day
These Rákshasas unpitying slay.
To thee, O Prince, we flee, and crave
Thy guardian help our lives to save.
From these fierce rovers of the night
Defend each stricken anchorite.
Throughout the world 'twere vain to seek
An arm like thine to aid the weak.
O Prince, we pray thee hear our call,
And from these fiends preserve us all.”
The son of Raghu heard the plaint
Of penance-loving sage and saint,
Canto VII. Sutíkshna.
831
And the good prince his speech renewed
To all the hermit multitude:
“To me, O saints, ye need not sue:
I wait the hests of all of you.
I by mine own occasion led
This mighty forest needs must tread,
[236]
And while I keep my sire's decree
Your lives from threatening foes will free.
I hither came of free accord
To lend the aid by you implored,
And richest meed my toil shall pay,
While here in forest shades I stay.
I long in battle strife to close.
And slay these fiends, the hermits' foes,
That saint and sage may learn aright
My prowess and my brother's might.”
Thus to the saints his promise gave
That prince who still to virtue clave
With never-wandering thought:
And then with Lakshmaṇ by his side,
With penance-wealthy men to guide,
Sutíkshṇa's home he sought.
Canto VII. Sutíkshna.
832
The Ramayana
So Raghu's son, his foemen's dread,
With Sítá and his brother sped,
Girt round by many a twice-born sage,
To good Sutíkshṇa's hermitage.420
Through woods for many a league he passed,
O'er rushing rivers full and fast,
Until a mountain fair and bright
As lofty Meru rose in sight.
Within its belt of varied wood
Ikshváku's sons and Sítá stood,
Where trees of every foliage bore
Blossom and fruit in endless store.
There coats of bark, like garlands strung,
Before a lonely cottage hung,
And there a hermit, dust-besmeared,
A lotus on his breast, appeared.
Then Ráma with obeisance due
Addressed the sage, as near he drew:
“My name is Ráma, lord; I seek
Thy presence, saint, with thee to speak.
O sage, whose merits ne'er decay,
Some word unto thy servant say.”
The sage his eyes on Ráma bent,
Of virtue's friends preëminent;
Then words like these he spoke, and pressed
The son of Raghu to his breast:
“Welcome to thee, illustrious youth,
Best champion of the rights of truth!
By thine approach this holy ground
A worthy lord this day has found.
I could not quit this mortal frame
420Near the celebrated Rámagiri or Ráma's Hill, now Rám-ṭek, near Nag-
pore—the scene of the Yaksha's exile in the Messenger Cloud.
Canto VII. Sutíkshna.
833
Till thou shouldst come, O dear to fame:
To heavenly spheres I would not rise,
Expecting thee with eager eyes.
I knew that thou, unkinged, hadst made
Thy home in Chitrakúṭa's shade.
E'en now, O Ráma, Indra, lord
Supreme by all the Gods adored,
King of the Hundred Offerings,421said,
When he my dwelling visited,
That the good works that I have done
My choice of all the worlds have won.
Accept this meed of holy vows,
And with thy brother and thy spouse,
Roam, through my favour, in the sky
Which saints celestial glorify.”
To that bright sage, of penance stern,
The high-souled Ráma spake in turn,
As Vásava422who rules the skies
To Brahmá's gracious speech replies:
“I of myself those worlds will win,
O mighty hermit pure from sin:
But now, O saint, I pray thee tell
Where I within this wood may dwell:
For I by Śarabhanga old,
The son of Gautama, was told
That thou in every lore art wise,
And seest all with loving eyes.”
421A hundred Aśvamedhas or sacrifices of a horse raise the sacrificer to the
dignity of Indra.
422Indra.
834
The Ramayana
Thus to the saint, whose glories high
Filled all the world, he made reply:
And thus again the holy man
His pleasant speech with joy began:
“This calm retreat, O Prince, is blest
With many a charm: here take thy rest.
Here roots and kindly fruits abound,
And hermits love the holy ground.
Fair silvan beasts and gentle deer
In herds unnumbered wander here:
And as they roam, secure from harm,
Our eyes with grace and beauty charm:
Except the beasts in thickets bred,
This grove of ours has naught to dread.”
The hermit's speech when Ráma heard,—
The hero ne'er by terror stirred,—
On his great bow his hand he laid,
And thus in turn his answer made:
“O saint, my darts of keenest steel,
Armed with their murderous barbs, would deal
Destruction mid the silvan race
That flocks around thy dwelling-place.
Most wretched then my fate would be
For such dishonour shown to thee:
And only for the briefest stay
Would I within this grove delay.”
He spoke and ceased. With pious care
He turned him to his evening prayer,
Performed each customary rite,
And sought his lodging for the night,
With Sítá and his brother laid
[237]
Canto VIII. The Hermitage.
835
Beneath the grove's delightful shade,
First good Sutíkshṇa, as elsewhere, when he saw
The shades of night around them draw,
With hospitable care
The princely chieftains entertained
With store of choicest food ordained
For holy hermit's fare.
Canto VIII. The Hermitage.
So Ráma and Sumitrá's son,
When every honour due was done,
Slept through the night. When morning broke,
The heroes from their rest awoke.
Betimes the son of Raghu rose,
With gentle Sítá, from repose,
And sipped the cool delicious wave
Sweet with the scent the lotus gave,
Then to the Gods and sacred flame
The heroes and the lady came,
And bent their heads in honour meet
Within the hermit's pure retreat.
When every stain was purged away,
They saw the rising Lord of Day:
Then to Sutíkshṇa's side they went,
And softly spoke, most reverent:
836
The Ramayana
“Well have we slept, O holy lord,
Honoured of thee by all adored:
Now leave to journey forth we pray:
These hermits urge us on our way.
We haste to visit, wandering by,
The ascetics' homes that round you lie,
And roaming Daṇḍak's mighty wood
To view each saintly brotherhood,
For thy permission now we sue,
With these high saints to duty true,
By penance taught each sense to tame,—
In lustre like the smokeless flame.
Ere on our brows the sun can beat
With fierce intolerable heat.
Like some unworthy lord who wins
His power by tyranny and sins,
O saint, we fain would part.” The three
Bent humbly to the devotee.
He raised the princes as they pressed
His feet, and strained them to his breast;
And then the chief of devotees
Bespake them both in words like these:
“Go with thy brother, Ráma, go,
Pursue thy path untouched by woe:
Go with thy faithful Sítá, she
Still like a shadow follows thee.
Roam Daṇḍak wood observing well
The pleasant homes where hermits dwell,—
Pure saints whose ordered souls adhere
To penance rites and vows austere.
There plenteous roots and berries grow,
And noble trees their blossoms show,
And gentle deer and birds of air
In peaceful troops are gathered there.
Canto VIII. The Hermitage.
837
There see the full-blown lotus stud
The bosom of the lucid flood,
And watch the joyous mallard shake
The reeds that fringe the pool and lake.
See with delighted eye the rill
Leap sparkling from her parent hill,
And hear the woods that round thee lie
Reëcho to the peacock's cry.
And as I bid thy brother, so,
Sumitrá's child, I bid thee go.
Go forth, these varied beauties see,
And then once more return to me.”
Thus spake the sage Sutíkshṇa: both
The chiefs assented, nothing loth,
Round him with circling steps they paced,
Then for the road prepared with haste.
There Sítá stood, the dame long-eyed,
Fair quivers round their waists she tied,
And gave each prince his trusty bow,
And sword which ne'er a spot might know.
Each took his quiver from her hand.
And clanging bow and gleaming brand:
Then from the hermits' home the two
Went forth each woodland scene to view.
Each beauteous in the bloom of age,
Dismissed by that illustrious sage,
With bow and sword accoutred, hied
Away, and Sítá by their side.
838
The Ramayana
Canto IX. Sítá's Speech.
Blest by the sage, when Raghu's son
His onward journey had begun,
Thus in her soft tone Sítá, meek
With modest fear, began to speak:
“One little slip the great may lead
To shame that follows lawless deed:
Such shame, my lord, as still must cling
To faults from low desire that spring.
Three several sins defile the soul,
Born of desire that spurns control:
First, utterance of a lying word,
Then, viler both, the next, and third:
The lawless love of other's wife,
The thirst of blood uncaused by strife.
The first, O Raghu's son, in thee
None yet has found, none e'er shall see.
Love of another's dame destroys
All merit, lost for guilty joys:
Ráma, such crime in thee, I ween,
Has ne'er been found, shall ne'er be seen:
The very thought, my princely lord,
Is in thy secret soul abhorred.
[238]
For thou hast ever been the same
Fond lover of thine own dear dame,
Content with faithful heart to do
Thy father's will, most just and true:
Justice, and faith, and many a grace
In thee have found a resting-place.
Such virtues, Prince, the good may gain
Who empire o'er each sense retain;
And well canst thou, with loving view
Regarding all, each sense subdue.
Canto IX. Sítá's Speech.
839
But for the third, the lust that strives,
Insatiate still, for others' lives,—
Fond thirst of blood where hate is none,—
This, O my lord, thou wilt not shun.
Thou hast but now a promise made,
The saints of Daṇḍak wood to aid:
And to protect their lives from ill
The giants' blood in tight wilt spill:
And from thy promise lasting fame
Will glorify the forest's name.
Armed with thy bow and arrows thou
Forth with thy brother journeyest now,
While as I think how true thou art
Fears for thy bliss assail my heart,
And all my spirit at the sight
Is troubled with a strange affright.
I like it not—it seems not good—
Thy going thus to Daṇḍak wood:
And I, if thou wilt mark me well,
The reason of my fear will tell.
Thou with thy brother, bow in hand,
Beneath those ancient trees wilt stand,
And thy keen arrows will not spare
Wood-rovers who will meet thee there.
For as the fuel food supplies
That bids the dormant flame arise,
Thus when the warrior grasps his bow
He feels his breast with ardour glow.
Deep in a holy grove, of yore,
Where bird and beast from strife forbore,
Śuchi beneath the sheltering boughs,
A truthful hermit kept his vows.
Then Indra, Śachí's heavenly lord,
Armed like a warrior with a sword,
840
The Ramayana
Came to his tranquil home to spoil
The hermit of his holy toil,
And left the glorious weapon there
Entrusted to the hermit's care,
A pledge for him to keep, whose mind
To fervent zeal was all resigned.
He took the brand: with utmost heed
He kept it for the warrior's need:
To keep his trust he fondly strove
When roaming in the neighbouring grove:
Whene'er for roots and fruit he strayed
Still by his side he bore the blade:
Still on his sacred charge intent,
He took his treasure when he went.
As day by day that brand he wore,
The hermit, rich in merit's store
From penance rites each thought withdrew,
And fierce and wild his spirit grew.
With heedless soul he spurned the right,
And found in cruel deeds delight.
So, living with the sword, he fell,
A ruined hermit, down to hell.
This tale applies to those who deal
Too closely with the warrior's steel:
The steel to warriors is the same
As fuel to the smouldering flame.
Sincere affection prompts my speech:
I honour where I fain would teach.
Mayst thou, thus armed with shaft and bow,
So dire a longing never know
As, when no hatred prompts the fray,
These giants of the wood to slay:
For he who kills without offence
Shall win but little glory thence.
Canto IX. Sítá's Speech.
841
The bow the warrior joys to bend
Is lent him for a nobler end,
That he may save and succour those
Who watch in woods when pressed by foes.
What, matched with woods, is bow or steel?
What, warrior's arm with hermit's zeal?
We with such might have naught to do:
The forest rule should guide us too.
But when Ayodhyá hails thee lord,
Be then thy warrior life restored:
So shall thy sire423and mother joy
In bliss that naught may e'er destroy.
And if, resigning empire, thou
Submit thee to the hermit's vow,
The noblest gain from virtue springs,
And virtue joy unending brings.
All earthly blessings virtue sends:
On virtue all the world depends.
Those who with vow and fasting tame
To due restraint the mind and frame,
Win by their labour, nobly wise,
The highest virtue for their prize.
Pure in the hermit's grove remain,
True to thy duty, free from stain.
But the three worlds are open thrown
To thee, by whom all things are known.
Who gave me power that I should dare
His duty to my lord declare?
'Tis woman's fancy, light as air,
That moves my foolish breast.
423Gorresio observes that Daśaratha was dead and that Sítá had been informed
of his death. In his translation he substitutes for the words of the text “thy
relations and mine.” This is quite superfluous. Daśaratha though in heaven still
took a loving interest in the fortunes of his son.
842
The Ramayana
Now with thy brother counsel take,
Reflect, thy choice with judgment make,
And do what seems the best.”
[239]
Canto X. Ráma's Reply.
The words that Sítá uttered, spurred
By truest love, the hero heard:
Then he who ne'er from virtue strayed
To Janak's child his answer made:
“In thy wise speech, sweet love, I find
True impress of thy gentle mind,
Well skilled the warrior's path to trace,
Thou pride of Janak's ancient race.
What fitting answer shall I frame
To thy good words, my honoured dame?
Thou sayst the warrior bears the bow
That misery's tears may cease to flow;
And those pure saints who love the shade
Of Daṇḍak wood are sore dismayed.
They sought me of their own accord,
With suppliant prayers my aid implored:
They, fed on roots and fruit, who spend
Their lives where bosky wilds extend,
My timid love, enjoy no rest
By these malignant fiends distressed.
These make the flesh of man their meat:
The helpless saints they kill and eat.
The hermits sought my side, the chief
Canto X. Ráma's Reply.
843
Of Bráhman race declared their grief.
I heard, and from my lips there fell
The words which thou rememberest well:
I listened as the hermits cried,
And to their prayers I thus replied:
“Your favour, gracious lords, I claim,
O'erwhelmed with this enormous shame
That Bráhmans, great and pure as you,
Who should be sought, to me should sue.”
And then before the saintly crowd,
“What can I do?” I cried aloud.
Then from the trembling hermits broke
One long sad cry, and thus they spoke:
“Fiends of the wood, who wear at will
Each varied shape, afflict us still.
To thee in our distress we fly:
O help us, Ráma, or we die.
When sacred rites of fire are due,
When changing moons are full or new,
These fiends who bleeding flesh devour
Assail us with resistless power.
They with their cruel might torment
The hermits on their vows intent:
We look around for help and see
Our surest refuge, Prince, in thee.
We, armed with powers of penance, might
Destroy the rovers of the night:
But loth were we to bring to naught
The merit years of toil have bought.
Our penance rites are grown too hard,
By many a check and trouble barred,
But though our saints for food are slain
The withering curse we yet restrain.
844
The Ramayana
Thus many a weary day distressed
By giants who this wood infest,
We see at length deliverance, thou
With Lakshmaṇ art our guardian now.”
As thus the troubled hermits prayed,
I promised, dame, my ready aid,
And now—for truth I hold most dear—
Still to my word must I adhere.
My love, I might endure to be
Deprived of Lakshmaṇ, life, and thee,
But ne'er deny my promise, ne'er
To Bráhmans break the oath I sware.
I must, enforced by high constraint,
Protect them all. Each suffering saint
In me, unasked, his help had found;
Still more in one by promise bound.
I know thy words, mine own dear dame,
From thy sweet heart's affection came:
I thank thee for thy gentle speech,
For those we love are those we teach.
'Tis like thyself, O fair of face,
'Tis worthy of thy noble race:
Dearer than life, thy feet are set
In righteous paths they ne'er forget.”
Thus to the Maithil monarch's child,
His own dear wife, in accents mild
The high-souled hero said:
Then to the holy groves which lay
Beyond them fair to see, their way
The bow-armed chieftain led.
Canto XI. Agastya.
845
Canto XI. Agastya.
Ráma went foremost of the three,
Next Sítá, followed, fair to see,
And Lakshmaṇ with his bow in hand
Walked hindmost of the little band.
As onward through the wood they went,
With great delight their eyes were bent
On rocky heights beside the way
And lofty trees with blossoms gay;
And streamlets running fair and fast
The royal youths with Sítá passed.
They watched the sáras and the drake
On islets of the stream and lake,
And gazed delighted on the floods
Bright with gay birds and lotus buds.
They saw in startled herds the roes,
The passion-frenzied buffaloes,
Wild elephants who fiercely tore
The tender trees, and many a boar.
A length of woodland way they passed,
And when the sun was low at last
A lovely stream-fed lake they spied,
Two leagues across from side to side.
Tall elephants fresh beauty gave
To grassy bank and lilied wave,
[240]
By many a swan and sáras stirred,
Mallard, and gay-winged water-bird.
From those sweet waters, loud and long,
Though none was seen to wake the song,
Swelled high the singer's music blent
With each melodious instrument.
Ráma and car-borne Lakshmaṇ heard
The charming strain, with wonder stirred,
846
The Ramayana
Turned on the margent of the lake
To Dharmabhrit424the sage, and spake:
“Our longing souls, O hermit, burn
This music of the lake to learn:
We pray thee, noblest sage, explain
The cause of the mysterious strain.”
He, as the son of Raghu prayed,
With swift accord his answer made,
And thus the hermit, virtuous-souled,
The story of the fair lake told:
“Through every age 'tis known to fame,
Panchápsaras425its glorious name,
By holy Máṇḍakarṇi wrought
With power his rites austere had bought.
For he, great votarist, intent
On strictest rule his stern life spent.
Ten thousand years the stream his bed,
Ten thousand years on air he fed.
Then on the blessed Gods who dwell
In heavenly homes great terror fell:
They gathered all, by Agni led,
And counselled thus disquieted:
“The hermit by ascetic pain
The seat of one of us would gain.”
Thus with their hearts by fear oppressed
In full assembly spoke the Blest,
And bade five loveliest nymphs, as fair
As lightning in the evening air,
Armed with their winning wiles, seduce
From his stern vows the great recluse.
424One of the hermits who had followed Ráma.
425The lake of the five nymphs.
Canto XI. Agastya.
847
Though lore of earth and heaven he knew,
The hermit from his task they drew,
And made the great ascetic slave
To conquering love, the Gods to save.
Each of the heavenly five became,
Bound to the sage, his wedded dame;
And he, for his beloved's sake,
Formed a fair palace neath the lake.
Under the flood the ladies live,
To joy and ease their days they give,
And lap in bliss the hermit wooed
From penance rites to youth renewed.
So when the sportive nymphs within
Those secret bowers their play begin,
You hear the singers' dulcet tones
Blend sweetly with their tinkling zones.”
“How wondrous are these words of thine!”
Cried the famed chiefs of Raghu's line,
As thus they heard the sage unfold
The marvels of the tale he told.
As Ráma spake, his eyes were bent
Upon a hermit settlement
With light of heavenly lore endued,
With sacred grass and vesture strewed.
His wife and brother by his side,
Within the holy bounds he hied,
And there, with honour entertained
By all the saints, a while remained.
In time, by due succession led,
Each votary's cot he visited,
And then the lord of martial lore,
Returned where he had lodged before.
848
The Ramayana
Here for the months, content, he stayed,
There for a year his visit paid:
Here for four months his home would fix,
There, as it chanced, for five or six.
Here for eight months and there for three
The son of Raghu's stay would be:
Here weeks, there fortnights, more or less,
He spent in tranquil happiness.
As there the hero dwelt at ease
Among those holy devotees,
In days untroubled o'er his head
Ten circling years of pleasure fled.
So Raghu's son in duty trained
A while in every cot remained,
Then with his dame retraced the road
To good Sutíkshṇa's calm abode.
Hailed by the saints with honours due
Near to the hermit's home he drew,
And there the tamer of his foes
Dwelt for a time in sweet repose.
One day within that holy wood
By saint Sutíkshṇa Ráma stood,
And thus the prince with reverence meek
To that high sage began to speak:
“In the wide woodlands that extend
Around us, lord most reverend,
As frequent voice of rumour tells,
Agastya, saintliest hermit, dwells.
So vast the wood, I cannot trace
The path to reach his dwelling place,
Nor, searching unassisted, find
That hermit of the thoughtful mind.
I with my wife and brother fain
Canto XI. Agastya.
849
Would go, his favour to obtain,
Would seek him in his lone retreat
And the great saint with reverence greet.
This one desire, O Master, long
Cherished within my heart, is strong,
That I may pay of free accord
My duty to that hermit lord.”
As thus the prince whose heart was bent
On virtue told his firm intent,
The good Sutíkshṇa's joy rose high,
And thus in turn he made reply:
“The very thing, O Prince, which thou
Hast sought, I wished to urge but now,
Bid thee with wife and brother see
[241]
Agastya, glorious devotee.
I count this thing an omen fair
That thou shouldst thus thy wish declare,
And I, my Prince, will gladly teach
The way Agastya's home to reach.
Southward, dear son, direct thy feet
Eight leagues beyond this still retreat:
Agastya's hermit brother there
Dwells in a home most bright and fair.
'Tis on a knoll of woody ground,
With many a branching Pippal426crowned:
There sweet birds' voices ne'er are mute,
And trees are gay with flower and fruit.
There many a lake gleams bright and cool,
And lilies deck each pleasant pool,
While swan, and crane, and mallard's wings
Are lovely in the water-springs.
There for one night, O Ráma, stay,
426The holy fig-tree.
850
The Ramayana
And with the dawn pursue thy way.
Still farther, bending southward, by
The thicket's edge the course must lie,
And thou wilt see, two leagues from thence
Agastya's lovely residence,
Set in the woodland's fairest spot,
All varied foliage decks the cot:
There Sítá, Lakshmaṇ thou, at ease
May spend sweet hours neath shady trees,
For all of noblest growth are found
Luxuriant on that bosky ground.
If it be still thy firm intent
To see that saint preëminent,
O mighty counsellor, this day
Depart upon thine onward way.”
The hermit spake, and Ráma bent
His head, with Lakshmaṇ, reverent,
And then with him and Janak's child
Set out to trace the forest wild.
He saw dark woods that fringed the road,
And distant hills like clouds that showed,
And, as the way he followed, met
With many a lake and rivulet.
So passing on with ease where led
The path Sutíkshṇa bade him tread,
The hero with exulting breast
His brother in these words addressed:
“Here, surely, is the home, in sight,
Of that illustrious anchorite:
Here great Agastya's brother leads
A life intent on holy deeds.
Warned of each guiding mark and sign,
Canto XI. Agastya.
851
I see them all herein combine:
I see the branches bending low
Beneath the flowers and fruit they show.
A soft air from the forest springs,
Fresh from the odorous grass, and brings
A spicy fragrance as it flees
O'er the ripe fruit of Pippal trees.
See, here and there around us high
Piled up in heaps cleft billets lie,
And holy grass is gathered, bright
As strips of shining lazulite.
Full in the centre of the shade
The hermits' holy fire is laid:
I see its smoke the pure heaven streak
Dense as a big cloud's dusky peak.
The twice-born men their steps retrace
From each sequestered bathing-place,
And each his sacred gift has brought
Of blossoms which his hands have sought.
Of all these signs, dear brother, each
Agrees with good Sutíkshṇa's speech,
And doubtless in this holy bound
Agastya's brother will be found.
Agastya once, the worlds who viewed
With love, a Deathlike fiend subdued,
And armed with mighty power, obtained
By holy works, this grove ordained
To be a refuge and defence
From all oppressors' violence.
In days of yore within this place
Two brothers fierce of demon race,
Vátápi dire and Ilval, dwelt,
And slaughter mid the Bráhmans dealt.
A Bráhman's form, the fiend to cloak,
852
The Ramayana
Fierce Ilval wore, and Sanskrit spoke,
And twice-born sages would invite
To solemnize some funeral rite.
His brother's flesh, concealed within
A ram's false shape and borrowed skin,—
As men are wont at funeral feasts,—
He dressed and fed those gathered priests.
The holy men, unweeting ill,
Took of the food and ate their fill.
Then Ilval with a mighty shout
Exclaimed “Vátápi, issue out.”
Soon as his brother's voice he heard,
The fiend with ram-like bleating stirred:
Rending in pieces every frame,
Forth from the dying priests he came.
So they who changed their forms at will
Thousands of Bráhmans dared to kill,—
Fierce fiends who loved each cruel deed,
And joyed on bleeding flesh to feed.
Agastya, mighty hermit, pressed
To funeral banquet like the rest,
Obedient to the Gods' appeal
Ate up the monster at a meal.
“'Tis done, 'tis done,” fierce Ilval cried,
And water for his hands supplied:
Then lifting up his voice he spake:
“Forth, brother, from thy prison break.”
Then him who called the fiend, who long
Had wrought the suffering Bráhmans wrong,
Thus thoughtful-souled Agastya, best
Of hermits, with a smile addressed:
“How, Rákshas, is the fiend empowered
To issue forth whom I devoured?
Thy brother in a ram's disguise
Canto XI. Agastya.
853
Is gone where Yáma's kingdom lies.”
[242]
When from the words Agastya said
He knew his brother fiend was dead,
His soul on fire with vengeful rage,
Rushed the night-rover at the sage.
One lightning glance of fury, hot
As fire, the glorious hermit shot,
As the fiend neared him in his stride,
And straight, consumed to dust, he died.
In pity for the Bráhmans' plight
Agastya wrought this deed of might:
This grove which lakes and fair trees grace
In his great brother's dwelling place.”
As Ráma thus the tale rehearsed,
And with Sumitrá's son conversed,
The setting sun his last rays shed,
And evening o'er the land was spread.
A while the princely brothers stayed
And even rites in order paid,
Then to the holy grove they drew
And hailed the saint with honour due.
With courtesy was Ráma met
By that illustrious anchoret,
And for one night he rested there
Regaled with fruit and hermit fare.
But when the night had reached its close,
And the sun's glorious circle rose,
The son of Raghu left his bed
And to the hermit's brother said:
“Well rested in thy hermit cell,
I stand, O saint, to bid farewell;
For with thy leave I journey hence
Thy brother saint to reverence.”
854
The Ramayana
“Go, Ráma go,” the sage replied:
Then from the cot the chieftain hied.
And while the pleasant grove he viewed,
The path the hermit showed, pursued.
Of every leaf, of changing hue.
Plants, trees by hundreds round him grew,
With joyous eyes he looked on all,
Then Jak,427the wild rice, and Sál;428
He saw the red Hibiscus glow,
He saw the flower-tipped creeper throw
The glory of her clusters o'er
Tall trees that loads of blossom bore.
Some, elephants had prostrate laid,
In some the monkeys leapt and played,
And through the whole wide forest rang
The charm of gay birds as they sang.
Then Ráma of the lotus eye
To Lakshmaṇ turned who followed nigh,
And thus the hero youth impressed
With Fortune's favouring signs, addressed:
“How soft the leaves of every tree,
How tame each bird and beast we see!
Soon the fair home shall we behold
Of that great hermit tranquil-souled.
The deed the good Agastya wrought
High fame throughout the world has bought:
I see, I see his calm retreat
That balms the pain of weary feet.
Where white clouds rise from flames beneath,
Where bark-coats lie with many a wreath,
Where silvan things, made gentle, throng,
427The bread-fruit tree, Artocarpus integrifolia.
428A fine timber tree, Shorea robusta.
Canto XI. Agastya.
855
And every bird is loud in song.
With ruth for suffering creatures filled,
A deathlike fiend with might he killed,
And gave this southern realm to be
A refuge, from oppression free.
There stands his home, whose dreaded might
Has put the giant crew to flight,
Who view with envious eyes afar
The peaceful shades they cannot mar.
Since that most holy saint has made
His dwelling in this lovely shade,
Checked by his might the giant brood
Have dwelt in peace with souls subdued.
And all this southern realm, within
Whose bounds no fiend may entrance win,
Now bears a name which naught may dim,
Made glorious through the worlds by him.
When Vindhya, best of hills, would stay
The journey of the Lord of Day,
Obedient to the saint's behest
He bowed for aye his humbled crest.
That hoary hermit, world-renowned
For holy deeds, within this ground
Has set his pure and blessed home,
Where gentle silvan creatures roam.
Agastya, whom the worlds revere,
Pure saint to whom the good are dear,
To us his guests all grace will show,
Enriched with blessings ere we go.
I to this aim each thought will turn,
The favour of the saint to earn,
That here in comfort may be spent
The last years of our banishment.
Here sanctities and high saints stand,
856
The Ramayana
Gods, minstrels of the heavenly band;
Upon Agastya's will they wait,
And serve him, pure and temperate.
The liar's tongue, the tyrant's mind
Within these bounds no home may find:
No cheat, no sinner here can be:
So holy and so good is he.
Here birds and lords of serpent race,
Spirits and Gods who haunt the place,
Content with scanty fare remain,
As merit's meed they strive to gain.
Made perfect here, the saints supreme,
On cars that mock the Day-God's gleam,—
Their mortal bodies cast aside,—
Sought heaven transformed and glorified,
Here Gods to living things, who win
Their favour, pure from cruel sin,
Give royal rule and many a good,
[243]
Immortal life and spirithood.
Now, Lakshmaṇ, we are near the place:
Do thou precede a little space,
And tell the mighty saint that I
With Sítá at my side am nigh.”
Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow.
He spoke: the younger prince obeyed:
Within the bounds his way he made,
And thus addressed, whom first he met,
A pupil of the anchoret:
Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow.
857
“Brave Ráma, eldest born, who springs,
From Daśaratha, hither brings
His wife the lady Sítá: he
Would fain the holy hermit see.
Lakshmaṇ am I—if happy fame
E'er to thine ears has brought the name—
His younger brother, prompt to do
His will, devoted, fond, and true.
We, through our royal sire's decree,
To the dread woods were forced to flee.
Tell the great Master, I entreat,
Our earnest wish our lord to greet.”
He spoke: the hermit rich in store
Of fervid zeal and sacred lore,
Sought the pure shrine which held the fire,
To bear his message to the sire.
Soon as he reached the saint most bright
In sanctity's surpassing might,
He cried, uplifting reverent hands:
“Lord Ráma near thy cottage stands.”
Then spoke Agastya's pupil dear
The message for his lord to hear:
“Ráma and Lakshmaṇ, chiefs who spring
From Daśaratha, glorious king,
Thy hermitage e'en now have sought,
And lady Sítá with them brought.
The tamers of the foe are here
To see thee, Master, and revere.
'Tis thine thy further will to say:
Deign to command, and we obey.”
858
The Ramayana
When from his pupil's lips he knew
The presence of the princely two,
And Sítá born to fortune high.
The glorious hermit made reply:
“Great joy at last is mine this day
That Ráma hither finds his way,
For long my soul has yearned to see
The prince who comes to visit me.
Go forth, go forth, and hither bring
The royal three with welcoming:
Lead Ráma in and place him near:
Why stands he not already here?”
Thus ordered by the hermit, who,
Lord of his thought, all duty knew,
His reverent hands together laid,
The pupil answered and obeyed.
Forth from the place with speed he ran,
To Lakshmaṇ came and thus began:
“Where is he? let not Ráma wait,
But speed, the sage to venerate.”
Then with the pupil Lakshmaṇ went
Across the hermit settlement,
And showed him Ráma where he stood
With Janak's daughter in the wood.
The pupil then his message spake
Which the kind hermit bade him take;
Then led the honoured Ráma thence
And brought him in with reverence.
As nigh the royal Ráma came
With Lakshmaṇ and the Maithil dame,
He viewed the herds of gentle deer
Roaming the garden free from fear.
Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow.
859
As through the sacred grove he trod
He viewed the seat of many a God,
Brahmá and Agni,429Sun and Moon,
And His who sends each golden boon;430
Here Vishṇu's stood, there Bhaga's431shrine,
And there Mahendra's, Lord divine;
Here His who formed this earthly frame,432
His there from whom all beings came.433
Váyu's,434and His who loves to hold
The great noose, Varuṇ435mighty-souled:
Here was the Vasus'436shrine to see,
Here that of sacred Gáyatrí,437
The king of serpents438here had place,
And he who rules the feathered race.439
Here Kártikeya,440warrior lord,
And there was Justice King adored.
Then with disciples girt about
The mighty saint himself came out:
Through fierce devotion bright as flame
Before the rest the Master came:
And then to Lakshmaṇ, fortune blest,
Ráma these hasty words addressed:
“Behold, Agastya's self draws near,
429The God of fire.
430Kuvera, the God of riches.
431The Sun.
432Brahmá, the creator.
433Śiva.
434The Wind-God.
435The God of the sea.
436A class of demi-gods, eight in number.
437The holiest text of the Vedas, deified.
438Vásuki.
439Garuḍ.
440The War-God.
860
The Ramayana
The mighty saint, whom all revere:
With spirit raised I meet my lord
With richest wealth of penance stored.”
The strong-armed hero spake, and ran
Forward to meet the sunbright man.
Before him, as he came, he bent
And clasped his feet most reverent,
Then rearing up his stately height
Stood suppliant by the anchorite,
While Lakshmaṇ's strength and Sítá's grace
Stood by the pride of Raghu's race.
[244]
The sage his arms round Ráma threw
And welcomed him with honours due,
Asked, was all well, with question sweet,
And bade the hero to a seat.
With holy oil he fed the flame,
He brought the gifts which strangers claim,
And kindly waiting on the three
With honours due to high degree,
He gave with hospitable care
A simple hermit's woodland fare.
Then sat the reverend father, first
Of hermits, deep in duty versed.
And thus to suppliant Ráma, bred
In all the lore of virtue, said:
“Did the false hermit, Prince, neglect
To hail his guest with due respect,
He must,—the doom the perjured meet,—
His proper flesh hereafter eat.
A car-borne king, a lord who sways
The earth, and virtue's law obeys,
Worthy of highest honour, thou
Hast sought, dear guest, my cottage now.”
Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow.
861
He spoke: with fruit and hermit fare,
With every bloom the branches bare,
Agastya graced his honoured guest,
And thus with gentle words addressed:
“Accept this mighty bow, divine,
Whereon red gold and diamonds shine;
'Twas by the Heavenly Artist planned
For Vishṇu's own almighty hand;
This God-sent shaft of sunbright hue,
Whose deadly flight is ever true,
By Lord Mahendra given of yore:
This quiver with its endless store.
Keen arrows hurtling to their aim
Like kindled fires that flash and flame:
Accept, in golden sheath encased,
This sword with hilt of rich gold graced.
Armed with this best of bows
Lord Vishṇu slew his demon foes,
And mid the dwellers in the skies
Won brilliant glory for his prize.
The bow, the quivers, shaft, and sword
Received from me, O glorious lord:
These conquest to thine arm shall bring,
As thunder to the thunder's King.”
The splendid hermit bade him take
The noble weapons as he spake,
And as the prince accepted each
In words like these renewed his speech:
862
The Ramayana
Canto XIII. Agastya's Counsel.
“O Ráma, great delight I feel,
Pleased, Lakshmaṇ, with thy faithful zeal,
That you within these shades I see
With Sítá come to honour me.
But wandering through the rough rude wild
Has wearied Janak's gentle child:
With labours of the way oppressed
The Maithil lady longs for rest.
Young, delicate, and soft, and fair,
Such toils as these untrained to bear,
Her wifely love the dame has led
The forest's troubled ways to tread.
Here, Ráma, see that naught annoy
Her easy hours of tranquil joy:
A glorious task has she assayed,
To follow thee through woodland shade.
Since first from Nature's hand she came,
A woman's mood is still the same,
When Fortune smiles, her love to show,
And leave her lord in want and woe.
No pity then her heart can feel,
She arms her soul with warrior's steel,
Swift as the storm or Feathered King,
Uncertain as the lightning's wing.
Not so thy spouse: her purer mind
Shrinks from the faults of womankind;
Like chaste Arundhatí441above,
A paragon of faithful love.
Let these blest shades, dear Ráma, be
A home for Lakshmaṇ, her, and thee.”
441One of the Pleiades generally regarded as the model of wifely excellence.
Canto XIII. Agastya's Counsel.
863
With raised hands reverently meek
He heard the holy hermit speak,
And humbly thus addressed the sire
Whose glory shone like kindled fire:
“How blest am I, what thanks I owe
That our great Master deigns to show
His favour, that his heart can be
Content with Lakshmaṇ, Sítá, me.
Show me, I pray, some spot of ground
Where thick trees wave and springs abound,
That I may raise my hermit cell
And there in tranquil pleasure dwell.”
Then thus replied Agastya, best
Of hermits, to the chief's request:
When for a little he had bent
His thoughts, upon that prayer intent:
“Beloved son, four leagues away
Is Panchavaṭí bright and gay:
Thronged with its deer, most fair it looks
With berries, fruit, and water-brooks.
There build thee with thy brother's aid
A cottage in the quiet shade,
And faithful to thy sire's behest,
Obedient to the sentence, rest.
For well, O sinless chieftain, well
I know thy tale, how all befell:
Stern penance and the love I bore
Thy royal sire supply the lore.
To me long rites and fervid zeal
The wish that stirs thy heart reveal,
And hence my guest I bade thee be,
That this pure grove might shelter thee.
[245]
864
The Ramayana
So now, thereafter, thus I speak:
The shades of Panchavaṭí seek;
That tranquil spot is bright and fair,
And Sítá will be happy there.
Not far remote from here it lies,
A grove to charm thy loving eyes,
Godávarí's pure stream is nigh:
There Sítá's days will sweetly fly.
Pure, lovely, rich in many a charm,
O hero of the mighty arm,
'Tis gay with every plant and fruit,
And throngs of gay buds never mute.
Thou, true to virtue's path, hast might
To screen each trusting anchorite,
And wilt from thy new home defend
The hermits who on thee depend.
Now yonder, Prince, direct thine eyes
Where dense Madhúka442woods arise:
Pierce their dark shade, and issuing forth
Turn to a fig-tree on the north:
Then onward up a sloping mead
Flanked by a hill the way will lead:
There Panchavaṭí, ever gay
With ceaseless bloom, thy steps will stay.”
The hermit ceased: the princely two
With seemly honours bade adieu:
With reverential awe each youth
Bowed to the saint whose word was truth,
And then, dismissed with Sítá, they
To Panchavaṭí took their way.
Thus when each royal prince had grasped
442The Madhúka, or, as it is now called, Mahuwá, is the Bassia latifolia, a tree
from whose blossoms a spirit is extracted.
Canto XIV. Jatáyus.
865
His warrior's mighty bow, and clasped
His quiver to his side,
With watchful eyes along the road
The glorious saint Agastya showed,
Dauntless in fight the brothers strode,
And Sítá with them hied.
Canto XIV. Jatáyus.
Then as the son of Raghu made
His way to Panchavaṭí's shade,
A mighty vulture he beheld
Of size and strength unparalleled.
The princes, when the bird they saw,
Approached with reverence and awe,
And as his giant form they eyed,
“Tell who thou art,” in wonder cried.
The bird, as though their hearts to gain,
Addressed them thus in gentlest strain;
“In me, dear sons, the friend behold
Your royal father loved of old.”
He spoke: nor long did Ráma wait
His sire's dear friend to venerate:
He bade the bird declare his name
And the high race of which he came.
When Raghu's son had spoken, he
Declared his name and pedigree,
His words prolonging to disclose
How all the things that be arose:
866
The Ramayana
“List while I tell, O Raghu's son,
The first-born Fathers, one by one,
Great Lords of Life, whence all in earth
And all in heaven derive their birth.
First Kardam heads the glorious race
Where Vikrit holds the second place,
With Śesha, Sanśray next in line,
And Bahuputra's might divine.
Then Stháṇu and Maríchi came,
Atri, and Kratu's forceful frame.
Pulastya followed, next to him
Angiras' name shall ne'er be dim.
Prachetas, Pulah next, and then
Daksha, Vivasvat praised of men:
Aríshṭanemi next, and last
Kaśyap in glory unsurpassed.
From Daksha,—fame the tale has told—:
Three-score bright daughters sprang of old.
Of these fair-waisted nymphs the great
Lord Kaśyap sought and wedded eight,
Aditi, Diti, Kálaká,
Támrá, Danú, and Analá,
And Krodhavasá swift to ire,
And Manu443glorious as her sire.
443“I should have doubted whether Manu could have been the right reading
here, but that it occurs again in verse 29, where it is in like manner followed
in verse 31 by Analá, so that it would certainly seem that the name Manu is
intended to stand for a female, the daughter of Daksha. The Gauḍa recension,
followed by Signor Gorresio (III 20, 12), adopts an entirely different reading at
theendoftheline,viz. BalámAtibalámapi,‘BaláandAtibilá,’insteadofManu
and Analá. I see that Professor Roth s.v. adduces the authority of the Amara
Kosha and of the Commentator on Páṇini for stating that the word sometimes
means ‘the wife of Manu.’ In the following text of the Mahábhárata I. 2553.
also, Manu appears to be the name of a female: ‘Anaradyam, Manum, Vañsám,
Asurám, Márgaṇapriyám, Anúpám, Subhagám, Bhásím iti, Prádhá vyajayata.
Canto XIV. Jatáyus.
867
Then when the mighty Kaśyap cried
Delighted to each tender bride:
“Sons shalt thou bear, to rule the three
Great worlds, in might resembling me.”
[246]
Aditi, Diti, and Danú
Obeyed his will as consorts true,
And Kálaká; but all the rest
Refused to hear their lord's behest.
First Aditi conceived, and she,
Mother of thirty Gods and three,
The Vasus and Ádityas bare,
Rudras, and Aśvins, heavenly pair.
Of Diti sprang the Daityas: fame
Delights to laud their ancient name.
In days of yore their empire dread
O'er earth and woods and ocean spread.
Danú was mother of a child,
O hero, Aśvagríva styled,
And Narak next and Kálak came
Of Kálaká, celestial dame.
Of Támrá, too, five daughters bright
In deathless glory sprang to light.
Ennobling fame still keeps alive
The titles of the lovely five:
Immortal honour still she claims
For Kraunchí, Bhasí, Śyení's names.
And wills not that the world forget
Śukí or Dhritaráshtrí yet.
Then Kraunchí bare the crane and owl,
And Bhásí tribes of water fowl:
Vultures and hawks that race through air
With storm-fleet pinions Śyení bare.
Prádhá (daughter of Daksha) bore Anavadyá, Manu, Vanśá, Márgaṇapriyá,
Anúpá, Subhagá. and Bhásí.’” Muir's Sanskrit Text, Vol. I. p. 116.
868
The Ramayana
All swans and geese on mere and brook
Their birth from Dhritaráshtrí took,
And all the river-haunting brood
Of ducks, a countless multitude.
From Śukí Nalá sprang, who bare
Dame Vinatá surpassing fair.
From fiery Krodhavaśá, ten
Bright daughters sprang, O King of men:
Mrigí and Mrigamandá named,
Hari and Bhadramadá famed,
Śárdúlí, Śvetá fair to see,
Mátangí bright, and Surabhí,
Surasá marked with each fair sign,
And Kadrumá, all maids divine.
Mrigí, O Prince without a peer,
Was mother of the herds of deer,
The bear, the yak, the mountain roe
Their birth to Mrigamandá owe;
And Bhadramadá joyed to be
Mother of fair Irávatí,
Who bare Airávat,444huge of mould,
Mid warders of the earth enrolled,
From Harí lordly lions trace,
With monkeys of the wild, their race.
From the great dame Śárdúlí styled
Sprung pards, Lángúrs,445and tigers wild.
Mátangí, Prince, gave birth to all
Mátangas, elephants strong and tall,
And Śvetá bore the beasts who stand
One at each wind, earth's warder band.446
444The elephant of Indra.
445Golángúlas, described as a kind of monkey, of a black colour, and having
a tail like a cow.
446Eight elephants attached to the four quarters and intermediate points of the
Canto XIV. Jatáyus.
869
Next Surabhí the Goddess bore
Two heavenly maids, O Prince, of yore,
Gandharví—dear to fame is she—
And her sweet sister Rohiṇí.
With kine this daughter filled each mead,
And bright Gandharví bore the steed.447
Surasá bore the serpents:448all
The snakes Kadrú their mother call.
Then Manu, high-souled Kaśyap's449wife,
To all the race of men gave life,
The Bráhmans first, the Kshatriya caste,
Then Vaiśyas, and the Śúdras last.
Sprang from her mouth the Bráhman race;
Her chest the Kshatriyas' natal place:
The Vaiśyas from her thighs, 'tis said,
The Śúdras from her feet were bred.
From Analá all trees that hang
Their fair fruit-laden branches sprang.
The child of beauteous Śukí bore
Vinatá, as I taught before:
And Surasá and Kadrú were
Born of one dame, a noble pair.
Kadrú gave birth to countless snakes
That roam the earth in woods and brakes.
Aruṇ and Garuḍ swift of flight
compass, to support and guard the earth.
447Some scholars identify the centaurs with the Gandharvas.
448The hooded serpents, says the commentator Tírtha, were the offspring of
Surasá: all others of Kadrú.
449The text reads Kaśyapa, “a descendant of Kaśyapa,” who according to Rám.
II. l0, 6, ought to be Vivasvat. But as it is stated in the preceding part of this
passageIII.14, 11f. thatManuwasoneofKaśyapa'seightwives, wemusthere
read Kaśyap. The Ganda recension reads (III, 20, 30) Manur manushyáms cha
tatha janayámása Rághana, instead of the corresponding line in the Bombay
edition. Muir's Sanskrit Text, Vol I, p. 117.
870
The Ramayana
By Vinatá were given to light,
And sons of Aruṇ red as morn
Sampati first, then I was born,
Me then, O tamer of the foe,
Jaṭáyus, son of Śyení, know.
Thy ready helper will I be,
And guard thy house, if thou agree:
When thou and Lakshmaṇ urge the chase
By Sítá's side shall be my place.”
With courteous thanks for promised aid,
The prince, to rapture stirred,
Bent low, and due obeisance paid,
Embraced the royal bird.
[247]
He often in the days gone by
Had heard his father tell
How, linked with him in friendship's tie,
He loved Jaṭáyus well.
He hastened to his trusted friend
His darling to confide,
And through the wood his steps to bend
By strong Jaṭáyus' side.
On to the grove, with Lakshmaṇ near,
The prince his way pursued
To free those pleasant shades from fear
And slay the giant brood.
Canto XV. Panchavatí.
Canto XV. Panchavatí.
871
Arrived at Panchavaṭí's shade
Where silvan life and serpents strayed,
Ráma in words like these addressed
Lakshmaṇ of vigour unrepressed:
“Brother, our home is here: behold
The grove of which the hermit told:
The bowers of Panchavaṭí see
Made fair by every blooming tree.
Now, brother, bend thine eyes around;
With skilful glance survey the ground:
Here be some spot selected, best
Approved for gentle hermits' rest,
Where thou, the Maithil dame, and I
May dwell while seasons sweetly fly.
Some pleasant spot be chosen where
Pure waters gleam and trees are fair,
Some nook where flowers and wood are found
And sacred grass and springs abound.”
Then Lakshmaṇ, Sítá standing by,
Raised reverent hands, and made reply:
“A hundred years shall flee, and still
Will I obey my brother's will:
Select thyself a pleasant spot;
Be mine the care to rear the cot.”
The glorious chieftain, pleased to hear
That loving speech that soothed his ear,
Selected with observant care
A spot with every charm most fair.
He stood within that calm retreat,
A shade for hermits' home most meet,
And thus Sumitrá's son addressed,
While his dear hand in his he pressed:
872
The Ramayana
“See, see this smooth and lovely glade
Which flowery trees encircling shade:
Do thou, beloved Lakshmaṇ rear
A pleasant cot to lodge us here.
I see beyond that feathery brake
The gleaming of a lilied lake,
Where flowers in sunlike glory throw
Fresh odours from the wave below.
Agastya's words now find we true,
He told the charms which here we view:
Here are the trees that blossom o'er
Godávarí's most lovely shore.
Whose pleasant flood from side to side
With swans and geese is beautified,
And fair banks crowded with the deer
That steal from every covert near.
The peacock's cry is loud and shrill
From many a tall and lovely hill,
Green-belted by the trees that wave
Full blossoms o'er the rock and cave.
Like elephants whose huge fronts glow
With painted streaks, the mountains show
Long lines of gold and silver sheen
With copper's darker hues between.
With every tree each hill is graced,
Where creepers blossom interlaced.
Look where the Sál's long branches sway,
And palms their fanlike leaves display;
The date-tree and the Jak are near,
And their long stems Tamálas rear.
See the tall Mango lift his head,
Aśokas all their glory spread,
The Ketak her sweet buds unfold,
Canto XV. Panchavatí.
873
And Champacs hang their cups of gold.450
The spot is pure and pleasant: here
Are multitudes of birds and deer.
O Lakshmaṇ, with our father's friend
What happy hours we here shall spend!”
He spoke: the conquering Lakshmaṇ heard,
Obedient to his brother's word.
Raised by his toil a cottage stood
To shelter Ráma in the wood,
Of ample size, with leaves o'erlaid,
Of hardened earth the walls were made.
The strong bamboos his hands had felled
For pillars fair the roof upheld,
And rafter, beam, and lath supplied
Well interwrought from side to side.
Then Śamí451boughs he deftly spread
Enlaced with knotted cord o'erhead,
Well thatched above from ridge to eaves
With holy grass, and reed, and leaves.
The mighty chief with careful toil
Had cleared the ground and smoothed the soil
[248]
Where now, his loving labour done,
Rose a fair home for Raghu's son.
Then when his work was duly wrought,
Godávarís sweet stream he sought,
Bathed, plucked the lilies, and a store
450The original verses merely name the trees. I have been obliged to amplify
slightly and to omit some quas versu dicere non est; e.g. the tiniśa (Dalber-
gia ougeiniensis), punnága (Rottleria tinctoria), tilaka (not named), syandana
(Dalbergiaougeiniensisagain), vandana(unknown), nípa(NaucleaKadamba),
lakucha (Artœarpus lacucha), dhava (Grislea tomentosa), Aśvakarna (another
name for the Sál), Śamí (Acacia Suma), khadira (Mimosa catechu), kinśuka
(Butea frondosa), pátala (Bignonia suaveolens).
451Acacia Suma.
874
The Ramayana
Of fruit and berries homeward bore.
Then sacrifice he duly paid,
And wooed the Gods their hopes to aid,
And then to Ráma proudly showed
The cot prepared for his abode.
Then Raghu's son with Sítá gazed
Upon the home his hands had raised,
And transport thrilled his bosom through
His leafy hermitage to view.
The glorious son of Raghu round
His brother's neck his arms enwound,
And thus began his sweet address
Of deep-felt joy and gentleness:
“Well pleased am I, dear lord, to see
This noble work performed by thee.
For this,—sole grace I can bestow,—
About thy neck mine arms I throw.
So wise art thou, thy breast is filled
With grateful thoughts, in duty skilled,
Our mighty father, free from stain,
In thee, his offspring, lives again.”
Thus spoke the prince, who lent a grace
To fortune, pride of Raghu's race;
Then in that spot whose pleasant shade
Gave store of fruit, content he stayed.
With Lakshmaṇ and his Maithil spouse
He spent his day's neath sheltering boughs,
As happy as a God on high
Lives in his mansion in the sky.
Canto XVI. Winter.
875
Canto XVI. Winter.
While there the high-souled hero spent
His tranquil hours in sweet content,
The glowing autumn passed, and then
Came winter so beloved of men.
One morn, to bathe, at break of day
To the fair stream he took his way.
Behind him, with the Maithil dame
Bearing a pitcher Lakshmaṇ came,
And as he went the mighty man
Thus to his brother chief began:
“The time is come, to thee more dear
Than all the months that mark the year:
The gracious seasons' joy and pride,
By which the rest are glorified.
A robe of hoary rime is spread
O'er earth, with corn engarlanded.
The streams we loved no longer please,
But near the fire we take our ease.
Now pious men to God and shade
Offer young corn's fresh sprouted blade,
And purge away their sins with rice
Bestowed in humble sacrifice.
Rich stores of milk delight the swain,
And hearts are cheered that longed for gain,
Proud kings whose breasts for conquests glow
Lead bannered troops to smite the foe.
Dark is the north: the Lord of Day
To Yáma's south452has turned away:
452The south is supposed to be the residence of the departed.
876
The Ramayana
And she—sad widow—shines no more,
Reft of the bridal mark453she wore.
Himálaya's hill, ordained of old
The treasure-house of frost and cold,
Scarce conscious of the feebler glow,
Is truly now the Lord of Snow.
Warmed by the noontide's genial rays
Delightful are the glorious days:
But how we shudder at the chill
Of evening shadows and the rill!
How weak the sun, how cold the breeze!
How white the rime on grass and trees!
The leaves are sere, the woods have lost
Their blossoms killed by nipping frost.
Neath open skies we sleep no more:
December's nights with rime are hoar:
Their triple watch454in length extends
With hours the shortened daylight lends.
No more the moon's sun-borrowed rays
Are bright, involved in misty haze,
As when upon the mirror's sheen
The breath's obscuring cloud is seen.
E'en at the full the faint beams fail
To struggle through the darksome veil:
Changed like her hue, they want the grace
That parts not yet from Sítá's face.
Cold is the western wind, but how
Its piercing chill is heightened now,
Blowing at early morning twice
As furious with its breath of ice!
See how the dewy tears they weep
The barley, wheat, and woodland steep,
453The sun.
454The night is divided into three watches of four hours each.
Canto XVI. Winter.
877
Where, as the sun goes up the sky,
The curlew and the sáras cry.
See where the rice plants scarce uphold
Their full ears tinged with paly gold,
Bending their ripe heads slowly down
Fair as the date tree's flowery crown.
Though now the sun has mounted high
Seeking the forehead of the sky,
Such mist obscures his struggling beams,
No bigger than the moon he seems.
Though weak at first, his rays at length
Grow pleasant in their noonday strength,
And where a while they chance to fall
Fling a faint splendour over all.
[249]
See, o'er the woods where grass is wet
With hoary drops that cling there yet,
With soft light clothing earth and bough
There steals a tender glory now.
Yon elephant who longs to drink,
Still standing on the river's brink,
Plucks back his trunk in shivering haste
From the cold wave he fain would taste.
The very fowl that haunt the mere
Stand doubtful on the bank, and fear
To dip them in the wintry wave
As cowards dread to meet the brave.
The frost of night, the rime of dawn
Bind flowerless trees and glades of lawn:
Benumbed in apathetic chill
Of icy chains they slumber still.
You hear the hidden sáras cry
From floods that wrapped in vapour lie,
And frosty-shining sands reveal
Where the unnoticed rivers steal.
878
The Ramayana
The hoary rime of dewy night,
And suns that glow with tempered light
Lend fresh cool flavours to the rill
That sparkles from the topmost hill.
The cold has killed the lily's pride:
Leaf, filament, and flower have died:
With chilling breath rude winds have blown,
The withered stalk is left alone.
At this gay time, O noblest chief,
The faithful Bharat, worn by grief,
Lives in the royal town where he
Spends weary hours for love of thee.
From titles, honour, kingly sway,
From every joy he turns away:
Couched on cold earth, his days are passed
With scanty fare and hermit's fast.
This moment from his humble bed
He lifts, perhaps, his weary head,
And girt by many a follower goes
To bathe where silver Sarjú flows.
How, when the frosty morn is dim,
Shall Sarjú be a bath for him
Nursed with all love and tender care,
So delicate and young and fair.
How bright his hue! his brilliant eye
With the broad lotus leaf may vie.
By fortune stamped for happy fate,
His graceful form is tall and straight.
In duty skilled, his words are truth:
He proudly rules each lust of youth.
Though his strong arm smites down the foe,
In gentle speech his accents flow.
Yet every joy has he resigned
And cleaves to thee with heart and mind.
Canto XVI. Winter.
879
Thus by the deeds that he has done
A name in heaven has Bharat won,
For in his life he follows yet
Thy steps, O banished anchoret.
Thus faithful Bharat, nobly wise,
The proverb of the world belies:
“No men, by mothers' guidance led,
The footsteps of their fathers tread.”
How could Kaikeyí, blest to be
Spouse of the king our sire, and see
A son like virtuous Bharat, blot
Her glory with so foul a plot!”
Thus in fraternal love he spoke,
And from his lips reproaches broke:
But Ráma grieved to hear him chide
The absent mother, and replied:
“Cease, O beloved, cease to blame
Our royal father's second dame.
Still speak of Bharat first in place
Of old Ikshváku's princely race.
My heart, so firmly bent but now
To dwell in woods and keep my vow,
Half melting as I hear thee speak
Of Bharat's love, grows soft and weak,
With tender joy I bring to mind
His speeches ever sweet and kind.
That dear as Amrit took the sense
With most enchanting influence.
Ah, when shall I, no more to part,
Meet Bharat of the mighty heart?
When, O my brother, when shall we
The good and brave Śatrughna see?”
880
The Ramayana
Thus as he poured his fond lament
The son of Raghu onward went:
They reached the river, and the three
Bathed them in fair Godávarí.
Libations of the stream they paid
To every deity and shade,
With hymns of praise, the Sun on high
And sinless Gods to glorify.
Fresh from the purifying tide
Resplendent Ráma came,
With Lakshmaṇ ever by his side,
And the sweet Maithil dame.
So Rudra shines by worlds adored,
In glory undefiled,
When Nandi455stands beside his lord,
And King Himálaya's child.456
Canto XVII. Súrpanakhá.
The bathing and the prayer were o'er;
He turned him from the grassy shore,
And with his brother and his spouse
Sought his fair home beneath the boughs.
Sítá and Lakshmaṇ by his side,
On to his cot the hero hied,
And after rites at morning due
Within the leafy shade withdrew.
[250]
455The chief chamberlain and attendant of Śiva or Rudra.
456Umá or Párvati, the consort of Śiva.
Canto XVII. Súrpanakhá.
881
Then, honoured by the devotees,
As royal Ráma sat at ease,
With Sítá near him, o'er his head
A canopy of green boughs spread,
He shone as shines the Lord of Night
By Chitrá's457side, his dear delight.
With Lakshmaṇ there he sat and told
Sweet stories of the days of old,
And as the pleasant time he spent
With heart upon each tale intent,
A giantess, by fancy led,
Came wandering to his leafy shed.
Fierce Śúrpaṇakhá,—her of yore
The Ten-necked tyrant's mother bore,—
Saw Ráma with his noble mien
Bright as the Gods in heaven are seen;
Him from whose brow a glory gleamed,
Like lotus leaves his full eyes beamed:
Long-armed, of elephantine gait,
With hair close coiled in hermit plait:
In youthful vigour, nobly framed,
By glorious marks a king proclaimed:
Like some bright lotus lustrous-hued,
With young Kandarpa's458grace endued:
As there like Indra's self he shone,
She loved the youth she gazed upon.
She grim of eye and foul of face
Loved his sweet glance and forehead's grace:
She of unlovely figure, him
Of stately form and shapely limb:
She whose dim locks disordered hung,
Him whose bright hair on high brows clung:
457A star, one of the favourites of the Moon.
458The God of love.
882
The Ramayana
She whose fierce accents counselled fear,
Him whose soft tones were sweet to hear:
She whose dire form with age was dried,
Him radiant in his youthful pride:
She whose false lips maintained the wrong,
Him in the words of virtue strong:
She cruel-hearted, stained with sin,
Him just in deed and pure within.
She, hideous fiend, a thing to hate,
Him formed each eye to captivate:
Fierce passion in her bosom woke,
And thus to Raghu's son she spoke:
“With matted hair above thy brows,
With bow and shaft and this thy spouse,
How hast thou sought in hermit dress
The giant-haunted wilderness?
What dost thou here? The cause explain:
Why art thou come, and what to gain?”
As Śúrpaṇakhá questioned so,
Ráma, the terror of the foe,
In answer to the monster's call,
With fearless candour told her all.
“King Daśaratha reigned of old,
Like Gods celestial brave and bold.
I am his eldest son and heir,
And Ráma is the name I bear.
This brother, Lakshmaṇ, younger born,
Most faithful love to me has sworn.
My wife, this princess, dear to fame,
Is Sitá the Videhan dame.
Obedient to my sire's behest
And by the queen my mother pressed,
To keep the law and merit win,
Canto XVII. Súrpanakhá.
883
I sought this wood to harbour in.
But speak, for I of thee in turn
Thy name, and race, and sire would learn.
Thou art of giant race, I ween.
Changing at will thy form and mien.
Speak truly, and the cause declare
That bids thee to these shades repair.”
Thus Ráma spoke: the demon heard,
And thus replied by passion spurred:
“Of giant race, what form soe'er
My fancy wills, 'tis mine to wear.
Named Śúrpaṇakhá here I stray,
And where I walk spread wild dismay.
King Rávaṇ is my brother: fame
Has taught perchance his dreaded name,
Strong Kumbhakarṇa slumbering deep
In chains of never-ending sleep:
Vibhíshaṇ of the duteous mind,
In needs unlike his giant kind:
Dúshaṇ and Khara, brave and bold
Whose fame by every tongue is told:
Their might by mine is far surpassed;
But when, O best of men, I cast
These fond eyes on thy form, I see
My chosen love and lord in thee.
Endowed with wondrous might am I:
Where'er my fancy leads I fly.
The poor misshapen Sítá leave,
And me, thy worthier bride receive.
Look on my beauty, and prefer
A spouse more meet than one like her:
I'll eat that ill-formed woman there:
Thy brother too her fate shall share.
884
The Ramayana
But come, beloved, thou shalt roam
With me through all our woodland home;
Each varied grove with me shalt seek,
And gaze upon each mountain peak.”
As thus she spoke, the monster gazed
With sparkling eyes where passion blazed:
Then he, in lore of language learned,
This answer eloquent returned:
Canto XVIII. The Mutilation.
On her ensnared in Káma's net
His eyes the royal Ráma set,
[251]
And thus, her passion to beguile,
Addressed her with a gentle smile:
“I have a wife: behold her here,
My Sítá ever true and dear:
And one like thee will never brook
Upon a rival spouse to look.
But there my brother Lakshmaṇ stands:
Unchained is he by nuptial bands:
A youth heroic, loved of all,
Gracious and gallant, fair and tall.
With winning looks, most nobly bred,
Unmatched till now, he longs to wed.
Meet to enjoy thy youthful charms,
O take him to thy loving arms.
Enamoured on his bosom lie,
Fair damsel of the radiant eye,
As the warm sunlight loves to rest
Upon her darling Meru's breast.”
Canto XVIII. The Mutilation.
885
The hero spoke, the monster heard,
While passion still her bosom stirred.
Away from Ráma's side she broke,
And thus in turn to Lakshmaṇ spoke:
“Come, for thy bride take me who shine
In fairest grace that suits with thine.
Thou by my side from grove to grove
Of Daṇḍak's wild in bliss shalt rove.”
Then Lakshmaṇ, skilled in soft address,
Wooed by the amorous giantess,
With art to turn her love aside,
To Śúrpaṇakhá thus replied:
“And can so high a dame agree
The slave-wife of a slave to be?
I, lotus-hued! in good and ill
Am bondsman to my brother's will.
Be thou, fair creature radiant-eyed,
My honoured brother's younger bride:
With faultless tint and dainty limb,
A happy wife, bring joy to him.
He from his spouse grown old and grey,
Deformed, untrue, will turn away,
Her withered charms will gladly leave,
And to his fair young darling cleave.
For who could be so fond and blind,
O loveliest of all female kind,
To love another dame and slight
Thy beauties rich in all delight?”
886
The Ramayana
Thus Lakshmaṇ praised in scornful jest
The long-toothed fiend with loathly breast,
Who fondly heard his speech, nor knew
His mocking words were aught but true.
Again inflamed with love she fled
To Ráma, in his leafy shed
Where Sítá rested by his side,
And to the mighty victor cried:
“What, Ráma, canst thou blindly cling
To this old false misshapen thing?
Wilt thou refuse the charms of youth
For withered breast and grinning tooth!
Canst thou this wretched creature prize
And look on me with scornful eyes?
This aged crone this very hour
Before thy face will I devour:
Then joyous, from all rivals free.
Through Daṇḍak will I stray with thee.”
She spoke, and with a glance of flame
Rushed on the fawn-eyed Maithil dame:
So would a horrid meteor mar
Fair Rohiṇí's soft beaming star.
But as the furious fiend drew near,
Like Death's dire noose which chills with fear,
The mighty chief her purpose stayed,
And spoke, his brother to upbraid:
“Ne'er should we jest with creatures rude,
Of savage race and wrathful mood.
Think, Lakshmaṇ, think how nearly slain
My dear Videhan breathes again.
Let not the hideous wretch escape
Without a mark to mar her shape.
Canto XVIII. The Mutilation.
887
Strike, lord of men, the monstrous fiend,
Deformed, and foul, and evil-miened.”
He spoke: then Lakshmaṇ's wrath rose high,
And there before his brother's eye,
He drew that sword which none could stay,
And cleft her nose and ears away.
Noseless and earless, torn and maimed,
With fearful shrieks the fiend exclaimed,
And frantic in her wild distress
Resought the distant wilderness.
Deformed, terrific, huge, and dread,
As on she moved, her gashes bled,
And groan succeeded groan as loud
As roars, ere rain, the thunder cloud.
Still on the fearful monster passed,
While streams of blood kept falling fast,
And with a roar, and arms outspread
Within the boundless wood she fled.
To Janasthán the monster flew;
Fierce Khara there she found,
With chieftains of the giant crew
In thousands ranged around.
Before his awful feet she bent
And fell with piercing cries,
As when a bolt in swift descent
Comes flashing from the skies.
There for a while with senses dazed
Silent she lay and scared:
At length her drooping head she raised,
And all the tale declared,
How Ráma, Lakshmaṇ, and the dame
Had reached that lonely place:
Then told her injuries and shame,
888
The Ramayana
And showed her bleeding face.
Canto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara.
When Khara saw his sister lie
With blood-stained limbs and troubled eye,
[252]
Wild fury in his bosom woke,
And thus the monstrous giant spoke;
“Arise, my sister; cast away
This numbing terror and dismay,
And straight the impious hand declare
That marred those features once so fair.
For who his finger tip will lay
On the black snake in childish play,
And unattacked, with idle stroke
His poison-laden fang provoke?
Ill-fated fool, he little knows
Death's noose around his neck he throws,
Who rashly met thee, and a draught
Of life-destroying poison quaffed.
Strong, fierce as death, 'twas thine to choose
Thy way at will, each shape to use;
In power and might like one of us:
What hand has maimed and marred thee thus?
What God or fiend this deed has wrought,
What bard or sage of lofty thought
Was armed with power supremely great
Thy form to mar and mutilate?
In all the worlds not one I see
Would dare a deed to anger me:
Canto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara.
889
Not Indra's self, the Thousand-eyed,
Beneath whose hand fierce Páka459died.
My life-destroying darts this day
His guilty breath shall rend away,
E'en as the thirsty wild swan drains
Each milk-drop that the wave retains.
Whose blood in foaming streams shall burst
O'er the dry ground which lies athirst,
When by my shafts transfixed and slain
He falls upon the battle plain?
From whose dead corpse shall birds of air
The mangled flesh and sinews tear,
And in their gory feast delight,
When I have slain him in the fight?
Not God or bard or wandering ghost,
No giant of our mighty host
Shall step between us, or avail
To save the wretch when I assail.
Collect each scattered sense, recall
Thy troubled thoughts, and tell me all.
What wretch attacked thee in the way,
And quelled thee in victorious fray?”
His breast with burning fury fired,
Thus Khara of the fiend inquired:
And then with many a tear and sigh
Thus Śúrpaṇakhá made reply:
“'Tis Daśaratha's sons, a pair
Strong, resolute, and young, and fair:
In coats of dark and blackdeer's hide,
And like the radiant lotus eyed:
On berries roots and fruit they feed,
And lives of saintly virtue lead:
459A demon slain by Indra.
890
The Ramayana
With ordered senses undefiled,
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ are they styled.
Fair as the Minstrels' King460are they,
And stamped with signs of regal sway.
I know not if the heroes trace
Their line from Gods or Dánav461race.
There by these wondering eyes between
The noble youths a dame was seen,
Fair, blooming, young, with dainty waist,
And all her bright apparel graced.
For her with ready heart and mind
The royal pair their strength combined,
And brought me to this last distress,
Like some lost woman, comfortless.
Perfidious wretch! my soul is fain
Her foaming blood and theirs to drain.
O let me head the vengeful fight,
And with this hand my murderers smite.
Come, brother, hasten to fulfil
This longing of my eager will.
On to the battle! Let me drink
Their lifeblood as to earth they sink.”
Then Khara, by his sister pressed,
Inflamed with fury, gave his hest
To twice seven giants of his crew,
Fierce as the God of death to view:
460Chitraratha, King of the Gandharvas.
461Titanic.
Canto XX. The Giants' Death.
891
'Two men equipped with arms, who wear
Deerskin and bark and matted hair,
Leading a beauteous dame, have strayed
To the wild gloom of Daṇḍak's shade.
These men, this cursed woman slay,
And hasten back without delay,
That this my sister's lips may be
Red with the lifeblood of the three.
Giants, my wounded sister longs
To take this vengeance for her wrongs.
With speed her dearest wish fulfil,
And with your might these creatures kill.
Soon as your matchless strength shall lay
These brothers dead in battle fray,
She in triumphant joy will laugh,
And their hearts' blood delighted quaff.”
The giants heard the words he said,
And forth with Śúrpaṇakhá sped,
As mighty clouds in autumn fly
Urged by the wind along the sky.
Canto XX. The Giants' Death.
Fierce Śúrpaṇakhá with her train
To Ráma's dwelling came again,
And to the eager giants showed
Where Sítá and the youths abode.
Within the leafy cot they spied
The hero by his consort's side,
And faithful Lakshmaṇ ready still
To wait upon his brother's will.
[253]
892
The Ramayana
Then noble Ráma raised his eye
And saw the giants standing nigh,
And then, as nearer still they pressed.
His glorious brother thus addressed,
“Be thine a while, my brother dear,
To watch o'er Sítá's safety here,
And I will slay these creatures who
The footsteps of my spouse pursue.”
He spoke, and reverent Lakshmaṇ heard
Submissive to his brother's word.
The son of Raghu, virtuous-souled,
Strung his great bow adorned with gold,
And, with the weapon in his hand,
Addressed him to the giant band:
“Ráma and Lakshmaṇ we, who spring
From Daśaratha, mighty king;
We dwell a while with Sítá here
In Daṇḍak forest wild and drear.
On woodland roots and fruit we feed,
And lives of strictest rule we lead.
Say why would ye our lives oppress
Who sojourn in the wilderness.
Sent hither by the hermits' prayer
With bow and darts unused to spare,
For vengeance am I come to slay
Your sinful band in battle fray.
Rest as ye are: remain content,
Nor try the battle's dire event.
Unless your offered lives ye spurn,
O rovers of the night, return.”
Canto XX. The Giants' Death.
893
They listened while the hero spoke,
And fury in each breast awoke.
The Bráhman-slayers raised on high
Their mighty spears and made reply:
They spoke with eyes aglow with ire,
While Ráma's burnt with vengeful tire,
And answered thus, in fury wild,
That peerless chief whose tones were mild:
“Nay thou hast angered, overbold,
Khara our lord, the mighty-souled,
And for thy sin, in battle strife
Shalt yield to us thy forfeit life.
No power hast thou alone to stand
Against the numbers of our band.
'Twere vain to match thy single might
Against us in the front of fight.
When we equipped for fight advance
With brandished pike and mace and lance,
Thou, vanquished in the desperate field,
Thy bow, thy strength, thy life shalt yield.”
With bitter words and threatening mien
Thus furious spoke the fierce fourteen,
And raising scimitar and spear
On Ráma rushed in wild career.
Their levelled spears the giant crew
Against the matchless hero threw.
His bow the son of Raghu bent,
And twice seven shafts to meet them sent,
And every javelin sundered fell
By the bright darts he aimed so well.
894
The Ramayana
The hero saw: his anger grew
To fury: from his side he drew
Fresh sunbright arrows pointed keen,
In number, like his foes, fourteen.
His bow he grasped, the string he drew,
And gazing on the giant crew,
As Indra casts the levin, so
Shot forth his arrows at the foe.
The hurtling arrows, stained with gore,
Through the fiends' breasts a passage tore,
And in the earth lay buried deep
As serpents through an ant-hill creep
Like trees uptorn by stormy blast
The shattered fiends to earth were cast,
And there with mangled bodies they,
Bathed in their blood and breathless, lay.
With fainting heart and furious eye
The demon saw her champions die.
With drying wounds that scarcely bled
Back to her brother's home she fled.
Oppressed with pain, with loud lament
At Khara's feet the monster bent.
There like a plant whence slowly come
The trickling drops of oozy gum,
With her grim features pale with pain
She poured her tears in ceaseless rain,
There routed Śúrpaṇakhá lay,
And told her brother all,
The issue of the bloody fray,
Her giant champions' fall.
Canto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara.
895
Canto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara.
Low in the dust he saw her lie,
And Khara's wrath grew fierce and high.
Aloud he cried to her who came
Disgracefully with baffled aim:
“I sent with thee at thy request
The bravest of my giants, best
Of all who feed upon the slain:
Why art thou weeping here again?
Still to their master's interest true,
My faithful, noble, loyal crew,
Though slaughtered in the bloody fray,
Would yet their monarch's word obey.
Now I, my sister, fain would know
The cause of this thy fear and woe,
Why like a snake thou writhest there,
Calling for aid in wild despair.
Nay, lie not thus in lowly guise:
Cast off thy weakness and arise!”
With soothing words the giant chief
Assuaged the fury of her grief.
Her weeping eyes she slowly dried
And to her brother thus replied:
“I sought thee in my shame and fear
With severed nose and mangled ear:
My gashes like a river bled,
I sought thee and was comforted.
[254]
896
The Ramayana
Those twice seven giants, brave and strong,
Thou sentest to avenge the wrong,
To lay the savage Ráma low,
And Lakshmaṇ who misused me so.
But ah, the shafts of Ráma through
The bodies of my champions flew:
Though madly fierce their spears they plied,
Beneath his conquering might they died.
I saw them, famed for strength and speed,
I saw my heroes fall and bleed:
Great trembling seized my every limb
At the great deed achieved by him.
In trouble, horror, doubt, and dread,
Again to thee for help I fled.
While terror haunts my troubled sight,
I seek thee, rover of the night.
And canst thou not thy sister free
From this wide waste of troublous sea
Whose sharks are doubt and terror, where
Each wreathing wave is dark despair?
Low lie on earth thy giant train
By ruthless Ráma's arrows slain,
And all the mighty demons, fed
On blood, who followed me are dead.
Now if within thy breast may be
Pity for them and love for me,
If thou, O rover of the night,
Have valour and with him can fight,
Subdue the giants' cruel foe
Who dwells where Daṇḍak's thickets grow.
But if thine arm in vain assay
This queller of his foes to slay,
Now surely here before thine eyes,
Wronged and ashamed thy sister dies.
Canto XXII. Khara's Wrath.
897
Too well, alas, too well I see
That, strong in war as thou mayst be,
Thou canst not in the battle stand
When Ráma meets thee hand to hand.
Go forth, thou hero but in name,
Assuming might thou canst not claim;
Call friend and kin, no longer stay:
Away from Janasthán, away!
Shame of thy race! the weak alone
Beneath thine arm may sink o'erthrown:
Fly Ráma and his brother: they
Are men too strong for thee to slay.
How canst thou hope, O weak and base,
To make this grove thy dwelling-place?
With Ráma's might unmeet to vie,
O'ermastered thou wilt quickly die.
A hero strong in valorous deed
Is Ráma, Daśaratha's seed:
And scarce of weaker might than he
His brother chief who mangled me.”
Thus wept and wailed in deep distress
The grim misshapen giantess:
Before her brother's feet she lay
O'erwhelmed with grief, and swooned away.
Canto XXII. Khara's Wrath.
Roused by the taunting words she spoke,
The mighty Khara's wrath awoke,
And there, while giants girt him round,
In these fierce words an utterance found:
898
The Ramayana
“I cannot, peerless one, contain
Mine anger at this high disdain,
Galling as salt when sprinkled o'er
The rawness of a bleeding sore.
Ráma in little count I hold,
Weak man whose days are quickly told.
The caitiff with his life to-day
For all his evil deeds shall pay.
Dry, sister, dry each needless tear,
Stint thy lament and banish fear,
For Ráma and his brother go
This day to Yáma's realm below.
My warrior's axe shall stretch him slain,
Ere set of sun, upon the plain,
Then shall thy sated lips be red
With his warm blood in torrents shed.”
As Khara's speech the demon heard,
With sudden joy her heart was stirred:
She fondly praised him as the boast
And glory of the giant host.
First moved to ire by taunts and stings,
Now soothed by gentle flatterings,
To Dúshaṇ, who his armies led,
The demon Khara spoke, and said:
“Friend, from the host of giants call
Full fourteen thousand, best of all,
Slaves of my will, of fearful might,
Who never turn their backs in fight:
Fiends who rejoice to slay and mar,
Dark as the clouds of autumn are:
Make ready quickly, O my friend,
My chariot and the bows I bend.
Canto XXII. Khara's Wrath.
899
My swords, my shafts of brilliant sheen,
My divers lances long and keen.
On to the battle will I lead
These heroes of Pulastya's seed,
And thus, O famed for warlike skill,
Ráma my wicked foeman kill.”
He spoke, and ere his speech was done,
His chariot glittering like the sun,
Yoked and announced, by Dúshan's care,
With dappled steeds was ready there.
High as a peak from Meru rent
It burned with golden ornament:
The pole of lazulite, of gold
Were the bright wheels whereon it rolled.
With gold and moonstone blazoned o'er,
Fish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore;
Auspicious birds embossed thereon,
And stars in costly emblem shone.
O'er flashing swords his banner hung,
And sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung.
[255]
That mighty host with sword and shield
And oar was ready for the field:
And Khara saw, and Dúshan cried,
“Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride.”
Then banners waved, and shield and sword
Flashed as the host obeyed its lord.
From Janasthán they sallied out
With eager speed, and din, and shout,
Armed with the mace for close attacks,
The bill, the spear, the battle-axe,
Steel quoit and club that flashed afar,
Huge bow and sword and scimitar,
The dart to pierce, the bolt to strike,
900
The Ramayana
The murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike.
So forth from Janasthán, intent
On Khara's will, the monsters went.
He saw their awful march: not far
Behind the host he drove his car.
Ware of his master's will, to speed
The driver urged each gold-decked steed.
Then forth the warrior's coursers sprang,
And with tumultuous murmur rang
Each distant quarter of the sky
And realms that intermediate lie.
High and more high within his breast
His pride triumphant rose,
While terrible as Death he pressed
Onward to slay his foes,
“More swiftly yet,” as on they fled,
He cried in thundering tones
Loud as a cloud that overhead
Hails down a flood of stones.
Canto XXIII. The Omens.
As forth upon its errand went
That huge ferocious armament,
An awful cloud, in dust and gloom,
With threatening thunders from its womb
Poured in sad augury a flood
Of rushing water mixt with blood.
The monarch's steeds, though strong and fleet,
Stumbled and fell: and yet their feet
Passed o'er the bed of flowers that lay
Canto XXIII. The Omens.
901
Fresh gathered on the royal way.
No gleam of sunlight struggled through
The sombre pall of midnight hue,
Edged with a line of bloody red,
Like whirling torches overhead.
A vulture, fierce, of mighty size.
Terrific with his cruel eyes,
Perched on the staff enriched with gold,
Whence hung the flag in many a fold.
Each ravening bird, each beast of prey
Where Janasthán's wild thickets lay,
Rose with a long discordant cry
And gathered as the host went by.
And from the south long, wild, and shrill,
Came spirit voices boding ill.
Like elephants in frantic mood,
Vast clouds terrific, sable-hued,
Hid all the sky where'er they bore
Their load of water mixt with gore.
Above, below, around were spread
Thick shades of darkness strange and dread,
Nor could the wildered glance descry
A point or quarter of the sky.
Then came o'er heaven a sanguine hue,
Though evening's flush not yet was due,
While each ill-omened bird that flies
Assailed the king with harshest cries.
There screamed the vulture and the crane,
And the loud jackal shrieked again.
Each hideous thing that bodes aright
Disaster in the coming fight,
With gaping mouth that hissed and flamed,
The ruin of the host proclaimed.
Eclipse untimely reft away
902
The Ramayana
The brightness of the Lord of Day,
And near his side was seen to glow
A mace-like comet boding woe.
Then while the sun was lost to view
A mighty wind arose and blew,
And stars like fireflies shed their light,
Nor waited for the distant night.
The lilies drooped, the brooks were dried,
The fish and birds that swam them died,
And every tree that was so fair
With flower and fruit was stripped and bare.
The wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high,
Dark clouds of dust involved the sky.
In doleful twitter long sustained
The restless Sárikás462complained,
And from the heavens with flash and flame
Terrific meteors roaring came.
Earth to her deep foundation shook
With rock and tree and plain and brook,
As Khara with triumphant shout,
Borne in his chariot, sallied out.
His left arm throbbed: he knew full well
That omen, and his visage fell.
Each awful sign the giant viewed,
And sudden tears his eye bedewed.
Care on his brow sat chill and black,
Yet mad with wrath he turned not back.
Upon each fearful sight that raised
The shuddering hair the chieftain gazed,
And laughing in his senseless pride
Thus to his giant legions cried:
“By sense of mightiest strength upborne,
462The Sáriká is the Maina, a bird like a starling.
Canto XXIII. The Omens.
903
These feeble signs I laugh to scorn.
I could bring down the stars that shine
In heaven with these keen shafts of mine.
Impelled by warlike fury I
Could cause e'en Death himself to die.
[256]
I will not seek my home again
Until my pointed shafts have slain
This Raghu's son so fierce in pride,
And Lakshmaṇ by his brother's side.
And she, my sister, she for whom
These sons of Raghu meet their doom,
She with delighted lips shall drain
The lifeblood of her foemen slain.
Fear not for me: I ne'er have known
Defeat, in battle overthrown.
Fear not for me, O giants; true
Are the proud words I speak to you.
The king of Gods who rules on high,
If wild Airávat bore him nigh,
Should fall before me bolt in hand:
And shall these two my wrath withstand!”
He ended and the giant host
Who heard their chief's triumphant boast,
Rejoiced with equal pride elate,
Entangled in the noose of Fate.
Then met on high in bright array,
With eyes that longed to see the fray,
God and Gandharva, sage and saint,
With beings pure from earthly taint.
Blest for good works aforetime wrought,
Thus each to other spake his thought:
“Now joy to Bráhmans, joy to kine,
904
The Ramayana
And all whom world count half divine!
May Raghu's offspring slay in fight
Pulastya's sons who roam by night!”
In words like these and more, the best
Of high-souled saints their hopes expressed,
Bending their eager eyes from where
Car-borne with Gods they rode in air.
Beneath them stretching far, they viewed
The giants' death-doomed multitude.
They saw where, urged with fury, far
Before the host rolled Khara's car,
And close beside their leader came
Twelve giant peers of might and fame.
Four other chiefs463before the rest
Behind their leader Dúshaṇ pressed.
Impetuous, cruel, dark, and dread,
All thirsting for the fray,
The hosts of giant warriors sped
Onward upon their way.
With eager speed they reached the spot
Where dwelt the princely two,—
Like planets in a league to blot
The sun and moon from view.
Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight.
463Mahákapála, Sthúláksha, Pramátha, Triśiras.
Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight.
905
While Khara, urged by valiant rage,
Drew near that little hermitage,
Those wondrous signs in earth and sky
Smote on each prince's watchful eye.
When Ráma saw those signs of woe
Fraught with destruction to the foe,
With bold impatience scarce repressed
His brother chief he thus addressed:
“These fearful signs, my brother bold,
Which threaten all our foes, behold:
All laden, as they strike the view,
With ruin to the fiendish crew.
The angry clouds are gathering fast,
Their skirts with dusty gloom o'ercast,
And harsh with loud-voiced thunder, rain
Thick drops of blood upon the plain.
See, burning for the coming fight,
My shafts with wreaths of smoke are white,
And my great bow embossed with gold
Throbs eager for the master's hold.
Each bird that through the forest flies
Sends out its melancholy cries.
All signs foretell the dangerous strife,
The jeopardy of limb and life.
Each sight, each sound gives warning clear
That foemen meet and death is near.
But courage, valiant brother! well
The throbbings of mine arm foretell
That ruin waits the hostile powers,
And triumph in the fight is ours.
I hail the welcome omen: thou
Art bright of face and clear of brow.
For Lakshmaṇ, when the eye can trace
906
The Ramayana
A cloud upon the warrior's face
Stealing the cheerful light away,
His life is doomed in battle fray.
List, brother, to that awful cry:
With shout and roar the fiends draw nigh.
With thundering beat of many a drum
The savage-hearted giants come.
The wise who value safety know
To meet, prepared, the coming blow:
In paths of prudence trained aright
They watch the stroke before it smite.
Take thou thine arrows and thy bow,
And with the Maithil lady go
For shelter to the mountain cave
Where thickest trees their branches wave.
I will not have thee, Lakshmaṇ, say
One word in answer, but obey.
By all thy honour for these feet
Of mine, dear brother, I entreat.
Thy warlike arm, I know could, smite
To death these rovers of the night;
But I this day would fight alone
Till all the fiends be overthrown.”
[257]
He spake: and Lakshmaṇ answered naught:
His arrows and his bow he brought,
And then with Sítá following hied
For shelter to the mountain side.
As Lakshmaṇ and the lady through
The forest to the cave withdrew,
“'Tis well,” cried Ráma. Then he braced
His coat of mail around his waist.
When, bright as blazing fire, upon
His mighty limbs that armour shone,
The hero stood like some great light
Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight.
907
Uprising in the dark of night.
His dreadful shafts were by his side;
His trusty bow he bent and plied,
Prepared he stood: the bowstring rang,
Filling the welkin with the clang.
The high-souled Gods together drew
The wonder of the fight to view,
The saints made free from spot and stain,
And bright Gandharvas' heavenly train.
Each glorious sage the assembly sought,
Each saint divine of loftiest thought,
And filled with zeal for Ráma's sake.
Thus they whose deeds were holy spake:
“Now be it well with Bráhmans, now
Well with the worlds and every cow!
Let Ráma in the deadly fray
The fiends who walk in darkness slay,
As He who bears the discus464slew
The chieftains of the Asur crew.”
Then each with anxious glances viewed
His fellow and his speech renewed:
“There twice seven thousand giants stand
With impious heart and cruel hand:
Here Ráma stands, by virtue known:
How can the hero fight alone?”
464Vishṇu, who bears a chakra or discus.
908
The Ramayana
Thus royal sage and Bráhman saint,
Spirit, and Virtue free from taint,
And all the Gods of heaven who rode
On golden cars, their longing showed.
Their hearts with doubt and terror rent,
They saw the giants' armament,
And Ráma clothed in warrior might,
Forth standing in the front of fight.
Lord of the arm no toil might tire,
He stood majestic in his ire,
Matchless in form as Rudra465when
His wrath is fierce on Gods or men.
While Gods and saints in close array
Held converse of the coming fray,
The army of the fiends drew near
With sight and sound that counselled fear.
Long, loud and deep their war-cry pealed,
As on they rushed with flag and shield,
Each, of his proper valour proud,
Urging to fight the demon crowd.
His ponderous bow each warrior tried,
And swelled his bulk with martial pride.
'Mid shout and roar and trampling feet,
And thunder of the drums they beat,
Loud and more loud the tumult went
Throughout the forest's vast extent,
And all the life that moved within
The woodland trembled at the din.
In eager haste all fled to find
Some tranquil spot, nor looked behind.
465Śiva.
Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight.
909
With every arm of war supplied,
On-rushing wildly like the tide
Of some deep sea, the giant host
Approached where Ráma kept his post.
Then he, in battle skilled and tried,
Bent his keen eye on every side,
And viewed the host of Khara face
To face before his dwelling-place.
He drew his arrows forth, and reared
And strained that bow which foemen feared,
And yielded to the vengeful sway
Of fierce desire that host to slay.
Terrific as the ruinous fire
That ends the worlds, he glowed in ire,
And his tremendous form dismayed
The Gods who roam the forest shade.
For in the furious wrath that glowed
Within his soul the hero showed
Like Śiva when his angry might
Stayed Daksha's sacrificial rite.466
Like some great cloud at dawn of day
When first the sun upsprings,
And o'er the gloomy mass each ray
A golden radiance flings:
Thus showed the children of the night,
Whose mail and chariots threw,
With gleam of bows and armlets bright,
Flashes of flamy hue.
466See Additional Notes—DAKSHA'S SACRIFICE{FNS.
910
The Ramayana
Canto XXV. The Battle.
When Khara with the hosts he led
Drew near to Ráma's leafy shed,
He saw that queller of the foe
Stand ready with his ordered bow.
He saw, and burning at the view
His clanging bow he raised and drew,
And bade his driver urge apace
His car to meet him face to face.
Obedient to his master's hest
His eager steeds the driver pressed
On to the spot where, none to aid,
The strong-armed chief his weapon swayed.
Soon as the children of the night
Saw Khara rushing to the fight,
[258]
His lords with loud unearthly cry
Followed their chief and gathered nigh.
As in his car the leader rode
With all his lords around, he showed
Like the red planet fiery Mars
Surrounded by the lesser stars.
Then with a horrid yell that rent
The air, the giant chieftain sent
A thousand darts in rapid shower
On Ráma matchless in his power.
The rovers of the night, impelled
By fiery rage which naught withheld,
Upon the unconquered prince, who strained
His fearful bow, their arrows rained.
With sword and club, with mace and pike,
With spear and axe to pierce and strike,
Those furious fiends on every side
The unconquerable hero plied.
Canto XXV. The Battle.
911
The giant legions huge and strong,
Like clouds the tempest drives along,
Rushed upon Ráma with the speed
Of whirling car, and mounted steed,
And hill-like elephant, to slay
The matchless prince in battle fray.
Then upon Ráma thick and fast
The rain of mortal steel they cast,
As labouring clouds their torrents shed
Upon the mountain-monarch's467head.
As near and nearer round him drew
The warriors of the giant crew,
He showed like Śiva girt by all
His spirits when night's shadows fall.
As the great deep receives each rill
And river rushing from the hill,
He bore that flood of darts, and broke
With well-aimed shaft each murderous stroke.
By stress of arrowy storm assailed,
And wounded sore, he never failed,
Like some high mountain which defies
The red bolts flashing from the skies.
With ruddy streams each limb was dyed
From gaping wounds in breast and side,
Showing the hero like the sun
'Mid crimson clouds ere day is done.
Then, at that sight of terror, faint
Grew God, Gandharva, sage, and saint,
Trembling to see the prince oppose
His single might to myriad foes.
But waxing wroth, with force unspent,
He strained his bow to utmost bent,
467Himálaya.
912
The Ramayana
And forth his arrows keen and true
In hundreds, yea in thousands flew,—
Shafts none could ward, and none endure:
Death's fatal noose was scarce so sure.
As 'twere in playful ease he shot
His gilded shafts, and rested not.
With swiftest flight and truest aim
Upon the giant hosts they came.
Each smote, each stayed a foeman's breath
As fatal as the coil of Death.
Each arrow through a giant tore
A passage, and besmeared with gore,
Pursued its onward way and through
The air with flamy brilliance flew.
Unnumbered were the arrows sent
From the great bow which Ráma bent,
And every shaft with iron head
The lifeblood of a giant shed.
Their pennoned bows were cleft, nor mail
Nor shield of hide could aught avail.
For Ráma's myriad arrows tore
Through arms, and bracelets which they wore,
And severed mighty warriors' thighs
Like trunks of elephants in size,
And cut resistless passage sheer
Through gold-decked horse and charioteer,
Slew elephant and rider, slew
The horseman and the charger too,
And infantry unnumbered sent
To dwell 'neath Yáma's government.
Then rose on high a fearful yell
Of rovers of the night, who fell
Beneath that iron torrent, sore
Wounded by shafts that rent and tore.
Canto XXV. The Battle.
913
So mangled by the ceaseless storm
Of shafts of every kind and form,
Such joy they found, as forests feel
When scorched by flame, from Ráma's steel.
The mightiest still the fight maintained,
And furious upon Ráma rained
Dart, arrow, spear, with wild attacks
Of mace, and club, and battle-axe.
But the great chief, unconquered yet,
Their weapons with his arrows met,
Which severed many a giant's head,
And all the plain with corpses spread.
With sundered bow and shattered shield
Headless they sank upon the field,
As the tall trees, that felt the blast
Of Garuḍ's wing, to earth were cast.
The giants left unslaughtered there
Where filled with terror and despair,
And to their leader Khara fled
Faint, wounded, and discomfited.
These fiery Dúshaṇ strove to cheer,
And poised his bow to calm their fear;
Then fierce as He who rules the dead,
When wroth, on angered Ráma sped.
By Dúshaṇ cheered, the demons cast
Their dread aside and rallied fast
With Sáls, rocks, palm-trees in their hands
With nooses, maces, pikes, and brands,
Again upon the godlike man
The mighty fiends infuriate ran,
These casting rocks like hail, and these
A whelming shower of leafy trees.
Wild, wondrous fight, the eye to scare,
And raise on end each shuddering hair,
[259]
914
The Ramayana
As with the fiends who loved to rove
By night heroic Ráma strove!
The giants in their fury plied
Ráma with darts on every side.
Then, by the gathering demons pressed
From north and south and east and west,
By showers of deadly darts assailed
From every quarter fiercely hailed,
Girt by the foes who swarmed around,
He raised a mighty shout whose sound
Struck terror. On the giant crew
His great Gandharva468arrow flew.
A thousand mortal shafts were rained
From the orbed bow the hero strained,
Till east and west and south and north
Were filled with arrows volleyed forth.
They heard the fearful shout: they saw
His mighty hand the bowstring draw,
Yet could no wounded giant's eye
See the swift storm of arrows fly.
Still firm the warrior stood and cast
His deadly missiles thick and fast.
Dark grew the air with arrowy hail
Which hid the sun as with a veil.
Fiends wounded, falling, fallen, slain,
All in a moment, spread the plain,
And thousands scarce alive were left
Mangled, and gashed, and torn, and cleft.
Dire was the sight, the plain o'erspread
With trophies of the mangled dead.
There lay, by Ráma's missiles rent,
Full many a priceless ornament,
468One of the mysterious weapons given to Ráma.
Canto XXVI. Dúshan's Death.
915
With severed limb and broken gem,
Hauberk and helm and diadem.
There lay the shattered car, the steed,
The elephant of noblest breed,
The splintered spear, the shivered mace,
Chouris and screens to shade the face.
The giants saw with bitterest pain
Their warriors weltering on the plain,
Nor dared again his might oppose
Who scourged the cities of his foes.
Canto XXVI. Dúshan's Death.
When Dúshaṇ saw his giant band
Slaughtered by Ráma's conquering hand,
He called five thousand fiends, and gave
His orders. Bravest of the brave,
Invincible, of furious might,
Ne'er had they turned their backs in flight.
They, as their leader bade them seize
Spears, swords, and clubs, and rocks, and trees,
Poured on the dauntless prince again
A ceaseless shower of deadly rain.
The virtuous Ráma, undismayed,
Their missiles with his arrows stayed,
And weakened, ere it fell, the shock
Of that dire hail of tree and rock,
And like a bull with eyelids closed,
The pelting of the storm opposed.
916
The Ramayana
Then blazed his ire: he longed to smite
To earth the rovers of the night.
The wrath that o'er his spirit came
Clothed him with splendour as of flame,
While showers of mortal darts he poured
Fierce on the giants and their lord.
Dúshaṇ, the foeman's dusky dread,
By frenzied rage inspirited,
On Raghu's son his missiles cast
Like Indra's bolts which rend and blast.
But Ráma with a trenchant dart
Cleft Dúshaṇ's ponderous bow apart.
And then the gold-decked steeds who drew
The chariot, with four shafts he slew.
One crescent dart he aimed which shred
Clean from his neck the driver's head;
Three more with deadly skill addressed
Stood quivering in the giant's breast.
Hurled from his car, steeds, driver slain,
The bow he trusted cleft in twain,
He seized his mace, strong, heavy, dread,
High as a mountain's towering head.
With plates of gold adorned and bound,
Embattled Gods it crushed and ground.
Its iron spikes yet bore the stains
Of mangled foemen's blood and brains.
Its heavy mass of jagged steel
Was like a thunderbolt to feel.
It shattered, as on foes it fell,
The city where the senses dwell.469
Fierce Dúshaṇ seized that ponderous mace
Like monstrous form of serpent race,
469A periphrasis for the body.
Canto XXVI. Dúshan's Death.
917
And all his savage soul aglow
With fury, rushed upon the foe.
But Raghu's son took steady aim,
And as the rushing giant came,
Shore with two shafts the arms whereon
The demon's glittering bracelets shone.
His arm at each huge shoulder lopped,
The mighty body reeled and dropped,
And the great mace to earth was thrown
Like Indra's staff when storms have blown.
As some vast elephant who lies
Shorn of his tusks, and bleeding dies,
So, when his arms were rent away,
Low on the ground the giant lay.
The spirits saw the monster die,
And loudly rang their joyful cry,
“Honour to Ráma! nobly done!
Well hast thou fought, Kakutstha's son!”
[260]
But the great three, the host who led,
Enraged to see their chieftain dead,
As though Death's toils were round them cast,
Rushed upon Ráma fierce and fast,
Mahákapála seized, to strike
His foeman down, a ponderous pike:
Sthúláksha charged with spear to fling,
Pramáthi with his axe to swing.
When Ráma saw, with keen darts he
Received the onset of the three,
As calm as though he hailed a guest
In each, who came for shade and rest.
Mahákapála's monstrous head
Fell with the trenchant dart he sped.
His good right hand in battle skilled
Sthúláksha's eyes with arrows filled,
918
The Ramayana
And trusting still his ready bow
He laid the fierce Pramáthi low,
Who sank as some tall tree falls down
With bough and branch and leafy crown.
Then with five thousand shafts he slew
The rest of Dúshaṇ's giant crew:
Five thousand demons, torn and rent,
To Yáma's gloomy realm he sent.
When Khara knew the fate of all
The giant band and Dúshaṇ's fall,
He called the mighty chiefs who led
His army, and in fury said:
“Now Dúshaṇ and his armèd train
Lie prostrate on the battle plain.
Lead forth an army mightier still,
Ráma this wretched man, to kill.
Fight ye with darts of every shape,
Nor let him from your wrath escape.”
Thus spoke the fiend, by rage impelled,
And straight his course toward Ráma held.
With Śyenagámí and the rest
Of his twelve chiefs he onward pressed,
And every giant as he went
A storm of well-wrought arrows sent.
Then with his pointed shafts that came
With gold and diamond bright as flame,
Dead to the earth the hero threw
The remnant of the demon crew.
Those shafts with feathers bright as gold,
Like flames which wreaths of smoke enfold,
Smote down the fiends like tall trees rent
By red bolts from the firmament.
Canto XXVI. Dúshan's Death.
919
A hundred shafts he pointed well:
By their keen barbs a hundred fell:
A thousand,—and a thousand more
In battle's front lay drenched in gore.
Of all defence and guard bereft,
With sundered bows and harness cleft.
Their bodies red with bloody stain
Fell the night-rovers on the plain,
Which, covered with the loosened hair
Of bleeding giants prostrate there,
Like some great altar showed, arrayed
For holy rites with grass o'erlaid.
The darksome wood, each glade and dell
Where the wild demons fought and fell
Was like an awful hell whose floor
Is thick with mire and flesh and gore.
Thus twice seven thousand fiends, a band
With impious heart and bloody hand,
By Raghu's son were overthrown,
A man, on foot, and all alone.
Of all who met on that fierce day,
Khara, great chief, survived the fray,
The monster of the triple head,470
And Raghu's son, the foeman's dread.
The other demon warriors, all
Skilful and brave and strong and tall,
In front of battle, side by side,
Struck down by Lakshmaṇ's brother died.
When Khara saw the host he led
Triumphant forth to fight
Stretched on the earth, all smitten dead,
By Ráma's nobler might,
470Triśirás.
920
The Ramayana
Upon his foe he fiercely glared,
And drove against him fast,
Like Indra when his arm is bared
His thundering bolt to cast.
Canto XXVII. The Death Of Trisirás.
But Triśirás,471a chieftain dread,
Marked Khara as he onward sped.
And met his car and cried, to stay
The giant from the purposed fray:
“Mine be the charge: let me attack,
And turn thee from the contest back.
Let me go forth, and thou shalt see
The strong-armed Ráma slain by me.
True are the words I speak, my lord:
I swear it as I touch my sword:
That I this Ráma's blood will spill,
Whom every giant's hand should kill.
This Ráma will I slay, or he
In battle fray shall conquer me.
Restrain thy spirit: check thy car,
And view the combat from afar.
Thou, joying o'er the prostrate foe,
To Janasthán again shalt go,
Or, if I fall in battle's chance,
Against my conqueror advance.”
471The Three-headed.
Canto XXVII. The Death Of Trisirás.
921
Thus Triśirás for death who yearned:
And Khara from the conflict turned,
“Go forth to battle,” Khara cried;
And toward his foe the giant hied.
Borne on a car of glittering hue
Which harnessed coursers fleetly drew,
Like some huge hill with triple peak
He onward rushed the prince to seek.
[261]
Still, like a big cloud, sending out
His arrowy rain with many a shout
Like the deep sullen roars that come
Discordant from a moistened drum.
But Raghu's son, whose watchful eye
Beheld the demon rushing nigh,
From the great bow he raised and bent
A shower of shafts to meet him sent.
Wild grew the fight and wilder yet
As fiend and man in combat met,
As when in some dark wood's retreat
An elephant and a lion meet.
The giant bent his bow, and true
To Ráma's brow three arrows flew.
Then, raging as he felt the stroke,
These words in anger Ráma spoke:
“Heroic chief! is such the power
Of fiends who rove at midnight hour?
Soft as the touch of flowers I feel
The gentle blows thine arrows deal.
Receive in turn my shafts, and know
What arrows fly from Ráma's bow.”
Thus as he spoke his wrath grew hot,
And twice seven deadly shafts he shot,
Which, dire as serpent's deadly fang,
922
The Ramayana
Straight to the giant's bosom sprang.
Four arrows more,—each shaped to deal
A mortal wound with barbèd steel,—
The glorious hero shot, and slew
The four good steeds the car that drew.
Eight other shafts flew straight and fleet,
And hurled the driver from his seat,
And in the dust the banner laid
That proudly o'er the chariot played.
Then as the fiend prepared to bound
Forth from his useless car to ground,
The hero smote him to the heart,
And numbed his arm with deadly smart.
Again the chieftain, peerless-souled,
Sent forth three rapid darts, and rolled
With each keen arrow, deftly sped,
Low in the dust a monstrous head.
Then yielding to each deadly stroke,
Forth spouting streams of blood and smoke,
The headless trunk bedrenched with gore
Fell to the ground and moved no more.
The fiends who yet were left with life,
Routed and crushed in battle strife,
To Khara's side, like trembling deer
Scared by the hunter, fled in fear.
King Khara saw with furious eye
His scattered giants turn and fly;
Then rallying his broken train
At Raghu's son he drove amain,
Like Ráhu472when his deadly might
Comes rushing on the Lord of Night.
472The demon who causes eclipses.
Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.
923
Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.
But when he turned his eye where bled
Both Triśirás and Dúshaṇ dead,
Fear o'er the giant's spirit came
Of Ráma's might which naught could tame.
He saw his savage legions, those
Whose force no creature dared oppose,—
He saw the leader of his train
By Ráma's single prowess slain.
With burning grief he marked the few
Still left him of his giant crew.
As Namuchi473on Indra, so
Rushed the dread demon on his foe.
His mighty bow the monster strained,
And angrily on Ráma rained
His mortal arrows in a flood,
Like serpent fangs athirst for blood.
Skilled in the bowman's warlike art,
He plied the string and poised the dart.
Here, on his car, and there, he rode,
And passages of battle showed,
While all the skyey regions grew
Dark with his arrows as they flew.
Then Ráma seized his ponderous bow,
And straight the heaven was all aglow
With shafts whose stroke no life might bear
That filled with flash and flame the air,
473“This Asura was a friend of Indra, and taking advantage of his friend's
confidence, he drank up Indra's strength along with a draught of wine and
Soma. Indra then told the Aśvins and Sarasvatí that Namuchi had drunk up
his strength. The Aśvins in consequence gave Indra a thunderbolt in the form
of a foam, with which he smote off the head of Namuchi.” GARRETT'S{FNS
Classical Dictionary of India. See also Book I. p. 39.
924
The Ramayana
Thick as the blinding torrents sent
Down from Parjanya's474firmament.
In space itself no space remained,
But all was filled with arrows rained
Incessantly from each great bow
Wielded by Ráma and his foe.
As thus in furious combat, wrought
To mortal hate, the warriors fought,
The sun himself grew faint and pale,
Obscured behind that arrowy veil.
As when beneath the driver's steel
An elephant is forced to kneel,
So from the hard and pointed head
Of many an arrow Ráma bled.
High on his car the giant rose
Prepared in deadly strife to close,
[262]
And all the spirits saw him stand
Like Yáma with his noose in hand.
For Khara deemed in senseless pride
That he, beneath whose hand had died
The giant legions, failed at length
Slow sinking with exhausted strength.
But Ráma, like a lion, when
A trembling deer comes nigh his den,
Feared not the demon mad with hate,—
Of lion might and lion gait.
Then in his lofty car that glowed
With sunlike brilliance Khara rode
At Ráma: madly on he came
Like a poor moth that seeks the flame.
His archer skill the fiend displayed,
And at the place where Ráma laid
474Indra.
Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted.
925
His hand, an arrow cleft in two
The mighty bow the hero drew.
Seven arrows by the giant sent,
Bright as the bolts of Indra, rent
Their way through mail and harness joints,
And pierced him with their iron points.
On Ráma, hero unsurpassed,
A thousand shafts smote thick and fast,
While as each missile struck, rang out
The giant's awful battle-shout.
His knotted arrows pierced and tore
The sunbright mail the hero wore,
Till, band and buckle rent away,
Glittering on the ground it lay.
Then pierced in shoulder, breast, and side,
Till every limb with blood was dyed,
The chieftain in majestic ire
Shone glorious as the smokeless fire.
Then loud and long the war-cry rose
Of Ráma, terror of his foes,
As, on the giant's death intent,
A ponderous bow he strung and bent,—
Lord Vishṇu's own, of wondrous size,—
Agastya gave the heavenly prize.
Then rushing on the demon foe,
He raised on high that mighty bow,
And with his well-wrought shafts, whereon
Bright gold between the feathers shone,
He struck the pennon fluttering o'er
The chariot, and it waved no more.
That glorious flag whose every fold
Was rich with blazonry and gold,
Fell as the sun himself by all
The Gods' decree might earthward fall.
926
The Ramayana
From wrathful Khara's hand, whose art
Well knew each vulnerable part,
Four keenly-piercing arrows flew,
And blood in Ráma's bosom drew,
With every limb distained with gore
From deadly shafts which rent and tore,
From Khara's clanging bowstring shots,
The prince's wrath waxed wondrous hot.
His hand upon his bow that best
Of mighty archers firmly pressed,
And from the well-drawn bowstring, true
Each to its mark, six arrows flew.
One quivered in the giant's head,
With two his brawny shoulders bled;
Three, with the crescent heads they bore,
Deep in his breast a passage tore.
Thirteen, to which the stone had lent
The keenest point, were swiftly sent
On the fierce giant, every one
Destructive, gleaming like the sun.
With four the dappled steeds he slew;
One cleft the chariot yoke in two,
One, in the heat of battle sped,
Smote from the neck the driver's head.
The poles were rent apart by three;
Two broke the splintered axle-tree.
Then from the hand of Ráma, while
Across his lips there came a smile,
The twelfth, like thunderbolt impelled,
Cut the great hand and bow it held.
Then, scarce by Indra's self surpassed,
He pierced the giant with the last.
The bow he trusted cleft in twain,
His driver and his horses slain,
Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat.
927
Down sprang the giant, mace in hand,
On foot against the foe to stand.
The Gods and saints in bright array
Close gathered in the skies,
The prince's might in battle-fray
Beheld with joyful eyes.
Uprising from their golden seats,
Their hands in honour raised,
They looked on Ráma's noble feats,
And blessed him as they praised.
Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat.
When Ráma saw the giant nigh,
On foot, alone, with mace reared high,
In mild reproof at first he spoke,
Then forth his threatening anger broke:
“Thou with the host 'twas thine to lead,
With elephant and car and steed,
Hast wrought an act of sin and shame,
An act which all who live must blame.
Know that the wretch whose evil mind
Joys in the grief of human kind,
Though the three worlds confess him lord,
Must perish dreaded and abhorred.
Night-rover, when a villain's deeds
Distress the world he little heeds,
Each hand is armed his life to take,
And crush him like a deadly snake.
The end is near when men begin
Through greed or lust a life of sin,
928
The Ramayana
E'en as a Bráhman's dame, unwise,
Eats of the fallen hail475and dies.
[263]
Thy hand has slain the pure and good,
The hermit saints of Daṇḍak wood,
Of holy life, the heirs of bliss;
And thou shalt reap the fruit of this.
Not long shall they whose cruel breasts
Joy in the sin the world detests
Retain their guilty power and pride,
But fade like trees whose roots are dried.
Yes, as the seasons come and go,
Each tree its kindly fruit must show,
And sinners reap in fitting time
The harvest of each earlier crime.
As those must surely die who eat
Unwittingly of poisoned meat,
They too whose lives in sin are spent
Receive ere long the punishment.
And know, thou rover of the night,
That I, a king, am sent to smite
The wicked down, who court the hate
Of men whose laws they violate.
This day my vengeful hand shall send
Shafts bright with gold to tear and rend,
And pass with fury through thy breast
As serpents pierce an emmet's nest.
Thou with thy host this day shalt be
Among the dead below, and see
The saints beneath thy hand who bled,
Whose flesh thy cruel maw has fed.
They, glorious on their seats of gold,
Their slayer shall in hell behold.
475Popularly supposed to cause death.
Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat.
929
Fight with all strength thou callest thine,
Mean scion of ignoble line,
Still, like the palm-tree's fruit, this day
My shafts thy head in dust shall lay.”
Such were the words that Ráma said:
Then Khara's eyes with wrath glowed red,
Who, maddened by the rage that burned
Within him, with a smile returned:
“Thou Daśaratha's son, hast slain
The meaner giants of my train:
And canst thou idly vaunt thy might
And claim the praise not thine by right?
Not thus in self-laudation rave
The truly great, the nobly brave:
No empty boasts like thine disgrace
The foremost of the human race.
The mean of soul, unknown to fame,
Who taint their warrior race with shame,
Thus speak in senseless pride as thou,
O Raghu's son, hast boasted now.
What hero, when the war-cry rings,
Vaunts the high race from which he springs,
Or seeks, when warriors meet and die,
His own descent to glorify?
Weakness and folly show confessed
In every vaunt thou utterest,
As when the flames fed high with grass
Detect the simulating brass.
Dost thou not see me standing here
Armed with the mighty mace I rear,
Firm as an earth upholding hill
Whose summit veins of metal fill?
930
The Ramayana
Lo, here I stand before thy face
To slay thee with my murderous mace,
As Death, the universal lord,
Stands threatening with his fatal cord.
Enough of this. Much more remains
That should be said: but time constrains.
Ere to his rest the sun descend,
And shades of night the combat end,
The twice seven thousand of my band
Who fell beneath thy bloody hand
Shall have their tears all wiped away
And triumph in thy fall to-day.”
He spoke, and loosing from his hold
His mighty mace ringed round with gold,
Like some red bolt alive with fire
Hurled it at Ráma, mad with ire.
The ponderous mace which Khara threw
Sent fiery flashes as it flew.
Trees, shrubs were scorched beneath the blast,
As onward to its aim it passed.
But Ráma, watching as it sped
Dire as His noose who rules the dead,
Cleft it with arrows as it came
On rushing with a hiss and flame.
Its fury spent and burnt away,
Harmless upon the ground it lay
Like a great snake in furious mood
By herbs of numbing power subdued.
Canto XXX. Khara's Death.
931
Canto XXX. Khara's Death.
When Ráma, pride of Raghu's race,
Virtue's dear son, had cleft the mace,
Thus with superior smile the best
Of chiefs the furious fiend addressed:
“Thou, worst of giant blood, at length
Hast shown the utmost of thy strength,
And forced by greater might to bow,
Thy vaunting threats are idle now.
My shafts have cut thy club in twain:
Useless it lies upon the plain,
And all thy pride and haughty trust
Lie with it levelled in the dust.
The words that thou hast said to-day,
That thou wouldst wipe the tears away
Of all the giants I have slain,
My deeds shall render void and vain.
Thou meanest of the giants' breed,
Evil in thought and word and deed,
My hand shall take that life of thine
As Garuḍ476seized the juice divine.
[264]
Thou, rent by shafts, this day shalt die:
Low on the ground thy corse shall lie,
And bubbles from the cloven neck
With froth and blood thy skin shall deck.
With dust and mire all rudely dyed,
Thy torn arms lying by thy side,
While streams of blood each limb shall steep,
Thou on earth's breast shalt take thy sleep
476Garuḍ, the King of Birds, carried off the Amrit or drink of Paradise from
Indra's custody.
932
The Ramayana
Like a fond lover when he strains
The beauty whom at length he gains.
Now when thy heavy eyelids close
For ever in thy deep repose,
Again shall Daṇḍak forest be
Safe refuge for the devotee.
Thou slain, and all thy race who held
The realm of Janasthán expelled,
Again shall happy hermits rove,
Fearing no danger, through the grove.
Within those bounds, their brethren slain,
No giant shall this day remain,
But all shall fly with many a tear
And fearing, rid the saints of fear.
This bitter day shall misery bring
On all the race that calls thee king.
Fierce as their lord, thy dames shall know,
Bereft of joys, the taste of woe.
Base, cruel wretch, of evil mind,
Plaguer of Bráhmans and mankind,
With trembling hands each devotee
Feeds holy fires in dread of thee.”
Thus with wild fury unrepressed
Raghu's brave son the fiend addressed;
And Khara, as his wrath grew high,
Thus thundered forth his fierce reply:
“By senseless pride to madness wrought,
By danger girt thou fearest naught,
Nor heedest, numbered with the dead,
What thou shouldst say and leave unsaid.
When Fate's tremendous coils enfold
The captive in resistless hold,
Canto XXX. Khara's Death.
933
He knows not right from wrong, each sense
Numbed by that deadly influence.”
He spoke, and when his speech was done
Bent his fierce brows on Raghu's son.
With eager eyes he looked around
If lethal arms might yet be found.
Not far away and full in view
A Sál-tree towering upward grew.
His lips in mighty strain compressed,
He tore it up with root and crest,
With huge arms waved it o'er his head
And hurled it shouting, Thou art dead.
But Ráma, unsurpassed in might,
Stayed with his shafts its onward flight,
And furious longing seized his soul
The giant in the dust to roll.
Great drops of sweat each limb bedewed,
His red eyes showed his wrathful mood.
A thousand arrows, swiftly sent,
The giant's bosom tore and rent.
From every gash his body showed
The blood in foamy torrents flowed,
As springing from their caverns leap
Swift rivers down the mountain steep.
When Khara felt each deadened power
Yielding beneath that murderous shower,
He charged, infuriate with the scent
Of blood, in dire bewilderment.
But Ráma watched, with ready bow,
The onset of his bleeding foe,
And ere the monster reached him, drew
Backward in haste a yard or two.
Then from his side a shaft he took
934
The Ramayana
Whose mortal stroke no life might brook:
Of peerless might, it bore the name
Of Brahmá's staff, and glowed with flame:
Lord Indra, ruler of the skies,
Himself had given the glorious prize.
His bow the virtuous hero drew,
And at the fiend the arrow flew.
Hissing and roaring like the blast
Of tempest through the air it passed,
And fixed, by Ráma's vigour sped,
In the foe's breast its pointed head.
Then fell the fiend: the quenchless flame
Burnt furious in his wounded frame.
So burnt by Rudra Andhak477fell
In Śvetáraṇya's silvery dell:
So Namuchi and Vritra478died
By steaming bolts that tamed their pride:
So Bala479fell by lightning sent
By Him who rules the firmament.
Then all the Gods in close array
With the bright hosts who sing and play,
Filled full of rapture and amaze,
Sang hymns of joy in Ráma's praise,
Beat their celestial drums and shed
Rain of sweet flowers upon his head.
For three short hours had scarcely flown,
And by his pointed shafts o'erthrown
The twice seven thousand fiends, whose will
477A demon, son of Kaśyap and Diti, slain by Rudra or Śiva when he attempted
to carry off the tree of Paradise.
478Namuchi and Vritra were two demons slain by Indra. Vritra personifies
drought, the enemy of Indra, who imprisons the rain in the cloud.
479Another demon slain by Indra.
Canto XXX. Khara's Death.
935
Could change their shapes, in death were still,
With Triśirás and Dúshaṇ slain,
And Khara, leader of the train.
“O wondrous deed,” the bards began,
“The noblest deed of virtuous man!
Heroic strength that stood alone,
And firmness e'en as Vishṇu's own!”
Thus having sung, the shining train
Turned to their heavenly homes again.
[265]
Then the high saints of royal race
And loftiest station sought the place,
And by the great Agastya led,
With reverence to Ráma said:
“For this, Lord Indra, glorious sire,
Majestic as the burning fire,
Who crushes cities in his rage,
Sought Śarabhanga's hermitage.
Thou wast, this great design to aid,
Led by the saints to seek this shade,
And with thy mighty arm to kill
The giants who delight in ill.
Thou Daśaratha's noble son,
The battle for our sake hast won,
And saints in Daṇḍak's wild who live
Their days to holy tasks can give.”
936
The Ramayana
Forth from the mountain cavern came
The hero Lakshmaṇ with the dame.
And rapture beaming from his face,
Resought the hermit dwelling-place.
Then when the mighty saints had paid
Due honour for the victor's aid,
The glorious Ráma honoured too
By Lakshmaṇ to his cot withdrew.
When Sítá looked upon her lord,
His foemen slain, the saints restored,
In pride and rapture uncontrolled
She clasped him in her loving hold.
On the dead fiends her glances fell:
She saw her lord alive and well,
Victorious after toil and pain,
And Janak's child was blest again.
Once more, once more with new delight
Her tender arms she threw
Round Ráma whose victorious might
Had crushed the demon crew.
Then as his grateful reverence paid
Each saint of lofty soul,
O'er her sweet face, all fears allayed,
The flush of transport stole.
Canto XXXI. Rávan.
But of the host of giants one,
Akampan, from the field had run
And sped to Lanká480to relate
480The capital of the giant king Rávaṇ.
Canto XXXI. Rávan.
937
In Rávaṇ's ear the demons' fate:
“King, many a giant from the shade
Of Janasthán in death is laid:
Khara the chief is slain, and I
Could scarcely from the battle fly.”
Fierce anger, as the monarch heard,
Inflamed his look, his bosom stirred,
And while with scorching glance he eyed
The messenger, he thus replied:
“What fool has dared, already dead,
Strike Janasthán, the general dread?
Who is the wretch shall vainly try
In earth, heaven, hell, from me to fly?
Vaiśravaṇ,481Indra, Vishṇu, He
Who rules the dead, must reverence me;
For not the mightiest lord of these
Can brave my will and live at ease.
Fate finds in me a mightier fate
To burn the fires that devastate.
With unresisted influence I
Can force e'en Death himself to die,
With all-surpassing might restrain
The fury of the hurricane,
And burn in my tremendous ire
The glory of the sun and fire.”
481Kuvera, the God of gold.
938
The Ramayana
As thus the fiend's hot fury blazed,
His trembling hands Akampan raised,
And with a voice which fear made weak,
Permission craved his tale to speak.
King Rávaṇ gave the leave he sought,
And bade him tell the news he brought.
His courage rose, his voice grew bold,
And thus his mournful tale he told:
“A prince with mighty shoulders, sprung
From Daśaratha, brave and young,
With arms well moulded, bears the name
Of Ráma with a lion's frame.
Renowned, successful, dark of limb,
Earth has no warrior equals him.
He fought in Janasthán and slew
Dúshaṇ the fierce and Khara too.”
Rávaṇ the giants' royal chief.
Received Akampan's tale of grief.
Then, panting like an angry snake,
These words in turn the monarch spake:
“Say quick, did Ráma seek the shade
Of Janasthán with Indra's aid,
And all the dwellers in the skies
To back his hardy enterprise?”
Akampan heard, and straight obeyed
His master, and his answer made.
Then thus the power and might he told
Of Raghu's son the lofty-souled:
Canto XXXI. Rávan.
939
“Best is that chief of all who know
With deftest art to draw the bow.
His are strange arms of heavenly might,
And none can match him in the fight.
His brother Lakshmaṇ brave as he,
Fair as the rounded moon to see,
With eyes like night and voice that comes
Deep as the roll of beaten drums,
By Ráma's side stands ever near,
Like wind that aids the flame's career.
That glorious chief, that prince of kings,
On Janasthán this ruin brings.
No Gods were there,—dismiss the thought
No heavenly legions came and fought.
His swift-winged arrows Ráma sent,
Each bright with gold and ornament.
To serpents many-faced they turned:
[266]
The giant hosts they ate and burned.
Where'er these fled in wild dismay
Ráma was there to strike and slay.
By him O King of high estate,
Is Janasthán left desolate.”
Akampan ceased: in angry pride
The giant monarch thus replied:
“To Janasthán myself will go
And lay these daring brothers low.”
Thus spoke the king in furious mood:
Akampan then his speech renewed:
“O listen while I tell at length
The terror of the hero's strength.
No power can check, no might can tame
Ráma, a chief of noblest fame.
940
The Ramayana
He with resistless shafts can stay
The torrent foaming on its way.
Sky, stars, and constellations, all
To his fierce might would yield and fall.
His power could earth itself uphold
Down sinking as it sank of old.482
Or all its plains and cities drown,
Breaking the wild sea's barrier down;
Crush the great deep's impetuous will,
Or bid the furious wind be still.
He glorious in his high estate
The triple world could devastate,
And there, supreme of men, could place
His creatures of a new-born race.
Never can mighty Ráma be
O'ercome in fight, my King, by thee.
Thy giant host the day might win
From him, if heaven were gained by sin.
If Gods were joined with demons, they
Could ne'er, I ween, that hero slay,
But guile may kill the wondrous man;
Attend while I disclose the plan.
His wife, above all women graced,
Is Sítá of the dainty waist,
With limbs to fair proportion true,
And a soft skin of lustrous hue,
Round neck and arm rich gems are twined:
She is the gem of womankind.
With her no bright Gandharví vies,
No nymph or Goddess in the skies;
And none to rival her would dare
'Mid dames who part the long black hair.
482In the great deluge.
Canto XXXI. Rávan.
941
That hero in the wood beguile,
And steal his lovely spouse the while.
Reft of his darling wife, be sure,
Brief days the mourner will endure.”
With flattering hope of triumph moved
The giant king that plan approved,
Pondered the counsel in his breast,
And then Akampan thus addressed:
“Forth in my car I go at morn,
None but the driver with me borne,
And this fair Sítá will I bring
Back to my city triumphing.”
Forth in his car by asses drawn
The giant monarch sped at dawn,
Bright as the sun, the chariot cast
Light through the sky as on it passed.
Then high in air that best of cars
Traversed the path of lunar stars,
Sending a fitful radiance pale
As moonbeams shot through cloudy veil.
Far on his airy way he flew:
Near Táḍakeya's483grove he drew.
Márícha welcomed him, and placed
Before him food which giants taste,
With honour led him to a seat,
And brought him water for his feet;
And then with timely words addressed
Such question to his royal guest:
483The giant Márícha, son of Táḍaká. Táḍaká was slain by Ráma. See p. 39.
942
The Ramayana
“Speak, is it well with thee whose sway
The giant multitudes obey?
I know not all, and ask in fear
The cause, O King, why thou art here.”
Ráva, the giants' mighty king,
Heard wise Márícha's questioning,
And told with ready answer, taught
In eloquence, the cause he sought:
“My guards, the bravest of my band,
Are slain by Ráma's vigorous hand,
And Janasthán, that feared no hate
Of foes, is rendered desolate.
Come, aid me in the plan I lay
To steal the conqueror's wife away.”
Márícha heard the king's request,
And thus the giant chief addressed:
“What foe in friendly guise is he
Who spoke of Sítá's name to thee?
Who is the wretch whose thought would bring
Destruction on the giants' king?
Whose is the evil counsel, say,
That bids thee bear his wife away,
And careless of thy life provoke
Earth's loftiest with threatening stroke?
A foe is he who dared suggest
This hopeless folly to thy breast,
Whose ill advice would bid thee draw
The venomed fang from serpent's jaw.
By whose unwise suggestion led
Wilt thou the path of ruin tread?
Whence falls the blow that would destroy
Thy gentle sleep of ease and joy?
Canto XXXI. Rávan.
943
Like some wild elephant is he
That rears his trunk on high,
Lord of an ancient pedigree,
Huge tusks, and furious eye.
Rávaṇ, no rover of the night
With bravest heart can brook,
Met in the front of deadly fight,
On Raghu's son to look.
[267]
The giant hosts were brave and strong,
Good at the bow and spear:
But Ráma slew the routed throng,
A lion 'mid the deer.
No lion's tooth can match his sword,
Or arrows fiercely shot:
He sleeps, he sleeps—the lion lord;
Be wise and rouse him not.
O Monarch of the giants, well
Upon my counsel think,
Lest thou for ever in the hell
Of Ráma's vengeance sink:
A hell, where deadly shafts are sent
From his tremendous-bow,
While his great arms all flight prevent,
Like deepest mire below:
Where the wild floods of battle rave
Above the foeman's head,
And each with many a feathery wave
Of shafts is garlanded.
O, quench the flames that in thy breast
With raging fury burn;
And pacified and self-possessed
To Lanká's town return.
Rest thou in her imperial bowers
With thine own wives content,
944
The Ramayana
And in the wood let Ráma's hours
With Sítá still be spent.”
The lord of Lanká's isle obeyed
The counsel, and his purpose stayed.
Borne on his car he parted thence
And gained his royal residence.
Canto XXXII. Rávan Roused.
But Śúrpaṇakhá saw the plain
Spread with the fourteen thousand slain,
Doers of cruel deeds o'erthrown
By Ráma's mighty arm alone,
Add Triśirás and Dúshaṇ dead,
And Khara, with the hosts they led.
Their death she saw, and mad with pain,
Roared like a cloud that brings the rain,
And fled in anger and dismay
To Lanká, seat of Rávaṇ's sway.
There on a throne of royal state
Exalted sat the potentate,
Begirt with counsellor and peer,
Like Indra with the Storm Gods near.
Bright as the sun's full splendour shone
The glorious throne he sat upon,
As when the blazing fire is red
Upon a golden altar fed.
Wide gaped his mouth at every breath,
Tremendous as the jaws of Death.
With him high saints of lofty thought,
Canto XXXII. Rávan Roused.
945
Gandharvas, Gods, had vainly fought.
The wounds were on his body yet
From wars where Gods and demons met.
And scars still marked his ample chest
By fierce Airávat's484tusk impressed.
A score of arms, ten necks, had he,
His royal gear was brave to see.
His massive form displayed each sign
That marks the heir of kingly line.
In stature like a mountain height,
His arms were strong, his teeth were white,
And all his frame of massive mould
Seemed lazulite adorned with gold.
A hundred seams impressed each limp
Where Vishṇu's arm had wounded him,
And chest and shoulder bore the print
Of sword and spear and arrow dint,
Where every God had struck a blow
In battle with the giant foe.
His might to wildest rage could wake
The sea whose faith naught else can shake,
Hurl towering mountains to the earth,
And crush e'en foes of heavenly birth.
The bonds of law and right he spurned:
To others' wives his fancy turned.
Celestial arms he used in fight,
And loved to mar each holy rite.
He went to Bhogavatí's town,485
Where Vásuki was beaten down,
And stole, victorious in the strife,
Lord Takshaka's beloved wife.
484Indra's elephant.
485Bhogavatí, in Pátála in the regions under the earth, is the capital of the
serpent race whose king is Vásuki.
946
The Ramayana
Kailása's lofty crest he sought,
And when in vain Kuvera fought,
Stole Pushpak thence, the car that through
The air, as willed the master, flew.
Impelled by furious anger, he
Spoiled Nandan's486shade and Naliní,
And Chaitraratha's heavenly grove,
The haunts where Gods delight to rove.
Tall as a hill that cleaves the sky,
He raised his mighty arms on high
To check the blessed moon, and stay
The rising of the Lord of Day.
Ten thousand years the giant spent
On dire austerities intent,
And of his heads an offering, laid
Before the Self-existent, made.
No God or fiend his life could take,
Gandharva, goblin, bird, or snake:
Safe from all fears of death, except
From human arm, that life was kept.
Oft when the priests began to raise
Their consecrating hymns of praise,
He spoiled the Soma's sacred juice
Poured forth by them in solemn use.
[268]
The sacrifice his hands o'erthrew,
And cruelly the Bráhmans slew.
His was a heart that naught could melt,
Joying in woes which others felt.
She saw the ruthless monster there,
Dread of the worlds, unused to spare.
In robes of heavenly texture dressed,
Celestial wreaths adorned his breast.
486the grove of Indra.
Canto XXXIII. Súrpanakhá's Speech.
947
He sat a shape of terror, like
Destruction ere the worlds it strike.
She saw him in his pride of place,
The joy of old Pulastya's487race,
Begirt by counsellor and peer,
Rávaṇ, the foeman's mortal fear,
And terror in her features shown,
The giantess approached the throne.
Then Śúrpaṇakhá bearing yet
Each deeply printed trace
Where the great-hearted chief had set
A mark upon her face,
Impelled by terror and desire,
Still fierce, no longer bold,
To Rávaṇ of the eyes of fire
Her tale, infuriate, told.
Canto XXXIII. Súrpanakhá's Speech.
Burning with anger, in the ring
Of counsellors who girt their king,
To Rávaṇ, ravener of man,
With bitter words she thus began:
487Pulastya is considered as the ancestor of the Rakshases or giants, as he is
the father of Viśravas, the father of Rávaṇ and his brethren.
948
The Ramayana
“Wilt thou absorbed in pleasure, still
Pursue unchecked thy selfish will:
Nor turn thy heedless eyes to see
The coming fate which threatens thee?
The king who days and hours employs
In base pursuit of vulgar joys
Must in his people's sight be vile
As fire that smokes on funeral pile.
He who when duty calls him spares
No time for thought of royal cares,
Must with his realm and people all
Involved in fatal ruin fall.
As elephants in terror shrink
From the false river's miry brink,
Thus subjects from a monarch flee
Whose face their eyes may seldom see,
Who spends the hours for toil ordained
In evil courses unrestrained.
He who neglects to guard and hold
His kingdom by himself controlled,
Sinks nameless like a hill whose head
Is buried in the ocean's bed.
Thy foes are calm and strong and wise,
Fiends, Gods, and warriors of the skies,—
How, heedless, wicked, weak, and vain,
Wilt thou thy kingly state maintain?
Thou, lord of giants, void of sense,
Slave of each changing influence,
Heedless of all that makes a king,
Destruction on thy head wilt bring.
O conquering chief, the prince, who boasts,
Of treasury and rule and hosts,
By others led, though lord of all,
Is meaner than the lowest thrall.
Canto XXXIII. Súrpanakhá's Speech.
949
For this are monarchs said to be
Long-sighted, having power to see
Things far away by faithful eyes
Of messengers and loyal spies.
But aid from such thou wilt not seek:
Thy counsellors are blind and weak,
Or thou from these hadst surely known
Thy legions and thy realm o'erthrown.
Know, twice seven thousand, fierce in might,
Are slain by Ráma in the fight,
And they, the giant host who led,
Khara and Dúshaṇ, both are dead.
Know, Ráma with his conquering arm
Has freed the saints from dread of harm,
Has smitten Janasthán and made
Asylum safe in Daṇḍak's shade.
Enslaved and dull, of blinded sight,
Intoxicate with vain delight,
Thou closest still thy heedless eyes
To dangers in thy realm that rise.
A king besotted, mean, unkind,
Of niggard hand and slavish mind.
Will find no faithful followers heed
Their master in his hour of need.
The friend on whom he most relies,
In danger, from a monarch flies,
Imperious in his high estate,
Conceited, proud, and passionate;
Who ne'er to state affairs attends
With wholesome fear when woe impends
Most weak and worthless as the grass,
Soon from his sway the realm will pass.
For rotting wood a use is found,
For clods and dust that strew the ground,
950
The Ramayana
But when a king has lost his sway,
Useless he falls, and sinks for aye.
As raiment by another worn,
As faded garland crushed and torn,
So is, unthroned, the proudest king,
Though mighty once, a useless thing.
But he who every sense subdues
And each event observant views,
Rewards the good and keeps from wrong,
Shall reign secure and flourish long.
Though lulled in sleep his senses lie
He watches with a ruler's eye,
Untouched by favour, ire, and hate,
And him the people celebrate.
O weak of mind, without a trace
[269]
Of virtues that a king should grace,
Who hast not learnt from watchful spy
That low in death the giants lie.
Scorner of others, but enchained
By every base desire,
By thee each duty is disdained
Which time and place require.
Soon wilt thou, if thou canst not learn,
Ere yet it be too late,
The good from evil to discern,
Fall from thy high estate.”
As thus she ceased not to upbraid
The king with cutting speech,
And every fault to view displayed,
Naming and marking each,
The monarch of the sons of night,
Of wealth and power possessed,
And proud of his imperial might,
Long pondered in his breast.
Canto XXXIV. Súrpanakhá's Speech.
951
Canto XXXIV. Súrpanakhá's Speech.
Then forth the giant's fury broke
As Śúrpaṇakhá harshly spoke.
Girt by his lords the demon king
Looked on her, fiercely questioning:
“Who is this Ráma, whence, and where?
His form, his might, his deeds declare.
His wandering steps what purpose led
To Daṇḍak forest, hard to tread?
What arms are his that he could smite
In fray the rovers of the night,
And Triśirás and Dúshaṇ lay
Low on the earth, and Khara slay?
Tell all, my sister, and declare
Who maimed thee thus, of form most fair.”
Thus by the giant king addressed,
While burnt her fury unrepressed,
The giantess declared at length
The hero's form and deeds and strength:
952
The Ramayana
“Long are his arms and large his eyes:
A black deer's skin his dress supplies.
King Daśaratha's son is he,
Fair as Kandarpa's self to see.
Adorned with many a golden band,
A bow, like Indra's, arms his hand,
And shoots a flood of arrows fierce
As venomed snakes to burn and pierce.
I looked, I looked, but never saw
His mighty hand the bowstring draw
That sent the deadly arrows out,
While rang through air his battle-shout.
I looked, I looked, and saw too well
How with that hail the giants fell,
As falls to earth the golden grain,
Struck by the blows of Indra's rain.
He fought, and twice seven thousand, all
Terrific giants, strong and tall,
Fell by the pointed shafts o'erthrown
Which Ráma shot on foot, alone.
Three little hours had scarcely fled,—
Khara and Dúshaṇ both were dead,
And he had freed the saints and made
Asylum sure in Daṇḍak's shade.
Me of his grace the victor spared,
Or I the giants' fate had shared.
The high-souled Ráma would not deign
His hand with woman's blood to stain.
The glorious Lakshmaṇ, justly dear,
In gifts and warrior might his peer,
Serves his great brother with the whole
Devotion of his faithful soul:
Impetuous victor, bold and wise,
First in each hardy enterprise,
Canto XXXIV. Súrpanakhá's Speech.
953
Still ready by his side to stand,
A second self or better hand.
And Ráma has a large-eyed spouse,
Pure as the moon her cheek and brows,
Dearer than life in Ráma's sight,
Whose happiness is her delight.
With beauteous hair and nose the dame
From head to foot has naught to blame.
She shines the wood's bright Goddess, Queen
Of beauty with her noble mien.
First in the ranks of women placed
Is Sítá of the dainty waist.
In all the earth mine eyes have ne'er
Seen female form so sweetly fair.
Goddess nor nymph can vie with her,
Nor bride of heavenly chorister.
He who might call this dame his own,
Her eager arms about him thrown,
Would live more blest in Sítá's love
Than Indra in the world above.
She, peerless in her form and face
And rich in every gentle grace,
Is worthy bride, O King, for thee,
As thou art meet her lord to be.
I even I, will bring the bride
In triumph to her lover's side—
This beauty fairer than the rest,
With rounded limb and heaving breast.
Each wound upon my face I owe
To cruel Lakshmaṇ's savage blow.
But thou, O brother, shalt survey
Her moonlike loveliness to-day,
And Káma's piercing shafts shall smite
Thine amorous bosom at the sight.
954
The Ramayana
If in thy breast the longing rise
To make thine own the beauteous prize,
Up, let thy better foot begin
The journey and the treasure win.
If, giant Lord, thy favouring eyes
Regard the plan which I advise,
Up, cast all fear and doubt away
And execute the words I say
Come, giant King, this treasure seek,
For thou art strong and they are weak.
[270]
Let Sítá of the faultless frame
Be borne away and be thy dame.
Thy host in Janasthán who dwelt
Forth to the battle hied.
And by the shafts which Ráma dealt
They perished in their pride.
Dúshaṇ and Khara breathe no more,
Laid low upon the plain.
Arise, and ere the day be o'er
Take vengeance for the slain.”
Canto XXXV. Rávan's Journey.
When Rávaṇ, by her fury spurred,
That terrible advice had heard,
He bade his nobles quit his side,
And to the work his thought applied.
He turned his anxious mind to scan
On every side the hardy plan:
The gain against the risk he laid,
Each hope and fear with care surveyed,
Canto XXXV. Rávan's Journey.
955
And in his heart at length decreed
To try performance of the deed.
Then steady in his dire intent
The giant to the courtyard went.
There to his charioteer he cried,
“Bring forth the car whereon I ride.”
Aye ready at his master's word
The charioteer the order heard,
And yoked with active zeal the best
Of chariots at his lord's behest.
Asses with heads of goblins drew
That wondrous car where'er it flew.
Obedient to the will it rolled
Adorned with gems and glistering gold.
Then mounting, with a roar as loud
As thunder from a labouring cloud,
The mighty monarch to the tide
Of Ocean, lord of rivers, hied.
White was the shade above him spread,
White chouris waved around his head,
And he with gold and jewels bright
Shone like the glossy lazulite.
Ten necks and twenty arms had he:
His royal gear was good to see.
The heavenly Gods' insatiate foe,
Who made the blood of hermits flow,
He like the Lord of Hills appeared
With ten huge heads to heaven upreared.
In the great car whereon he rode,
Like some dark cloud the giant showed,
When round it in their close array
The cranes 'mid wreaths of lightning play.
He looked, and saw, from realms of air,
The rocky shore of ocean, where
956
The Ramayana
Unnumbered trees delightful grew
With flower and fruit of every hue.
He looked on many a lilied pool
With silvery waters fresh and cool,
And shores like spacious altars meet
For holy hermits' lone retreat.
The graceful palm adorned the scene,
The plantain waved her glossy green.
There grew the sál and betel, there
On bending boughs the flowers were fair.
There hermits dwelt who tamed each sense
By strictest rule of abstinence:
Gandharvas, Kinnars,488thronged the place,
Nágas and birds of heavenly race.
Bright minstrels of the ethereal quire,
And saints exempt from low desire,
With Ájas, sons of Brahmá's line,
Maríchipas of seed divine,
Vaikhánasas and Máshas strayed,
And Bálakhilyas489in the shade.
The lovely nymphs of heaven were there,
Celestial wreaths confined their hair,
And to each form new grace was lent
By wealth of heavenly ornament.
Well skilled was each in play and dance
And gentle arts of dalliance.
The glorious wife of many a God
Those beautiful recesses trod,
There Gods and Dánavs, all who eat
The food of heaven, rejoiced to meet.
The swan and Sáras thronged each bay
488Beings with the body of a man and the head of a horse.
489Ájas, Maríchipas, Vaikhánasas, Máshas, and Bálakhilyas are classes of
supernatural beings who lead the lives of hermits.
Canto XXXV. Rávan's Journey.
957
With curlews, ducks, and divers gay,
Where the sea spray rose soft and white
O'er rocks of glossy lazulite.
As his swift way the fiend pursued
Pale chariots of the Gods he viewed,
Bearing each lord whose rites austere
Had raised him to the heavenly sphere.
Thereon celestial garlands hung,
There music played and songs were sung.
Then bright Gandharvas met his view,
And heavenly nymphs, as on he flew.
He saw the sandal woods below,
And precious trees of odorous flow,
That to the air around them lent
Their riches of delightful scent;
Nor failed his roving eye to mark
Tall aloe trees in grove and park.
He looked on wood with cassias filled,
And plants which balmy sweets distilled,
Where her fair flowers the betel showed
And the bright pods of pepper glowed.
The pearls in many a silvery heap
Lay on the margin of the deep.
And grey rocks rose amid the red
Of coral washed from ocean's bed.
[271]
High soared the mountain peaks that bore
Treasures of gold and silver ore,
And leaping down the rocky walls
Came wild and glorious waterfalls.
Fair towns which grain and treasure held,
And dames who every gem excelled,
He saw outspread beneath him far,
With steed, and elephant, and car.
That ocean shore he viewed that showed
958
The Ramayana
Fair as the blessed Gods' abode
Where cool delightful breezes played
O'er levels in the freshest shade.
He saw a fig-tree like a cloud
With mighty branches earthward bowed.
It stretched a hundred leagues and made
For hermit bands a welcome shade.
Thither the feathered king of yore
An elephant and tortoise bore,
And lighted on a bough to eat
The captives of his taloned feet.
The bough unable to sustain
The crushing weight and sudden strain,
Loaded with sprays and leaves of spring
Gave way beneath the feathered king.
Under the shadow of the tree
Dwelt many a saint and devotee,
Ájas, the sons of Brahmá's line,
Máshas, Maríchipas divine.
Vaikhánasas, and all the race
Of Bálakhilyas, loved the place.
But pitying their sad estate
The feathered monarch raised the weight
Of the huge bough, and bore away
The loosened load and captured prey.
A hundred leagues away he sped,
Then on his monstrous booty fed,
And with the bough he smote the lands
Where dwell the wild Nisháda bands.
High joy was his because his deed
From jeopardy the hermits freed.
That pride for great deliverance wrought
A double share of valour brought.
His soul conceived the high emprise
Canto XXXV. Rávan's Journey.
959
To snatch the Amrit from the skies.
He rent the nets of iron first,
Then through the jewel chamber burst,
And bore the drink of heaven away
That watched in Indra's palace lay.
Such was the hermit-sheltering tree
Which Rávaṇ turned his eye to see.
Still marked where Garuḍ sought to rest,
The fig-tree bore the name of Blest.
When Rávaṇ stayed his chariot o'er
The ocean's heart-enchanting shore,
He saw a hermitage that stood
Sequestered in the holy wood.
He saw the fiend Márícha there
With deerskin garb, and matted hair
Coiled up in hermit guise, who spent
His days by rule most abstinent.
As guest and host are wont to meet,
They met within that lone retreat.
Before the king Márícha placed
Food never known to human taste.
He entertained his guest with meat
And gave him water for his feet,
And then addressed the giant king
With timely words of questioning:
“Lord, is it well with thee, and well
With those in Lanká's town who dwell?
What sudden thought, what urgent need
Has brought thee with impetuous speed?”
960
The Ramayana
The fiend Márícha thus addressed
Rávaṇ the king, his mighty guest,
And he, well skilled in arts that guide
The eloquent, in turn replied:
Canto XXXVI. Rávan's Speech.
“Hear me, Márícha, while I speak,
And tell thee why thy home I seek.
Sick and distressed am I, and see
My surest hope and help in thee.
Of Janasthán I need not tell,
Where Śúrpaṇakhá, Khara, dwell,
And Dúshaṇ with the arm of might,
And Triśirás, the fierce in fight,
Who feeds on human flesh and gore,
And many noble giants more,
Who roam in dark of midnight through
The forest, brave and strong and true.
By my command they live at ease
And slaughter saints and devotees.
Those twice seven thousand giants, all
Obedient to their captain's call,
Joying in war and ruthless deeds
Follow where mighty Khara leads.
Those fearless warrior bands who roam
Through Janasthán their forest home,
In all their terrible array
Met Ráma in the battle fray.
Girt with all weapons forth they sped
With Khara at the army's head.
Canto XXXVI. Rávan's Speech.
961
The front of battle Ráma held:
With furious wrath his bosom swelled.
Without a word his hate to show
He launched the arrows from his bow.
On the fierce hosts the missiles came,
Each burning with destructive flame,
The twice seven thousand fell o'erthrown
By him, a man, on foot, alone.
Khara the army's chief and pride,
And Dúshaṇ, fearless warrior, died,
And Triśirás the fierce was slain,
And Daṇḍak wood was free again.
He, banished by his angry sire,
Roams with his wife in mean attire.
This wretch, his Warrior tribe's disgrace
Has slain the best of giant race.
[272]
Harsh, wicked, fierce and greedy-souled,
A fool, with senses uncontrolled,
No thought of duty stirs his breast:
He joys to see the world distressed.
He sought the wood with fair pretence
Of truthful life and innocence,
But his false hand my sister left
Mangled, of nose and ears bereft.
This Ráma's wife who bears the name
Of Sítá, in her face and frame
Fair as a daughter of the skies,—
Her will I seize and bring the prize
Triumphant from the forest shade:
For this I seek thy willing aid.
If thou, O mighty one, wilt lend
Thy help and stand beside thy friend,
I with my brothers may defy
962
The Ramayana
All Gods embattled in the sky.
Come, aid me now, for thine the power
To succour in the doubtful hour.
Thou art in war and time of fear,
For heart and hand, without a peer.
For thou art skilled in art and wile,
A warrior brave and trained in guile.
With this one hope, this only aim,
O Rover of the Night, I came.
Now let me tell what aid I ask
To back me in my purposed task.
In semblance of a golden deer
Adorned with silver spots appear.
Go, seek his dwelling: in the way
Of Ráma and his consort stray.
Doubt not the lady, when she sees
The wondrous deer amid the trees,
Will bid her lord and Lakshmaṇ take
The creature for its beauty's sake.
Then when the chiefs have parted thence,
And left her lone, without defence,
As Ráhu storms the moonlight, I
Will seize the lovely dame and fly.
Her lord will waste away and weep
For her his valour could not keep.
Then boldly will I strike the blow
And wreak my vengeance on the foe.”
When wise Márícha heard the tale
His heart grew faint, his cheek was pale,
He stared with open orbs, and tried
To moisten lips which terror dried,
And grief, like death, his bosom rent
As on the king his look he bent.
Canto XXXVII. Márícha's Speech.
963
The monarch's will he strove to stay,
Distracted with alarm,
For well he knew the might that lay
In Ráma's matchless arm.
With suppliant hands Márícha stood
And thus began to tell
His counsel for the tyrant's good,
And for his own as well:
Canto XXXVII. Márícha's Speech.
Márícha gave attentive ear
The ruler of the fiends to hear:
Then, trained in all the rules that teach
The eloquent, began his speech:
“'Tis easy task, O King, to find
Smooth speakers who delight the mind.
But they who urge and they who do
Distasteful things and wise, are few.
Thou hast not learnt, by proof untaught,
And borne away by eager thought,
That Ráma, formed for high emprise,
With Varuṇ or with Indra vies.
Still let thy people live in peace,
Nor let their name and lineage cease,
For Ráma with his vengeful hand
Can sweep the giants from the land.
O, let not Janak's daughter bring
Destruction on the giant king.
Let not the lady Sítá wake
A tempest, on thy head to break.
964
The Ramayana
Still let the dame, by care untried,
Be happy by her husband's side,
Lest swift avenging ruin fall
On glorious Lanká, thee, and all.
Men such as thou with wills unchained,
Advised by sin and unrestrained,
Destroy themselves, the king, the state,
And leave the people desolate.
Ráma, in bonds of duty held,
Was never by his sire expelled.
He is no wretch of greedy mind,
Dishonour of his Warrior kind.
Free from all touch of rancorous spite,
All creatures' good is his delight.
He saw his sire of truthful heart
Deceived by Queen Kaikeyí's art,
And said, a true and duteous son,
“What thou hast promised shall be done.”
To gratify the lady's will,
His father's promise to fulfil,
He left his realm and all delight
For Daṇḍak wood, an anchorite.
No cruel wretch, no senseless fool
Is Ráma, unrestrained by rule.
This groundless charge has ne'er been heard,
Nor shouldst thou speak the slanderous word.
Ráma in truth and goodness bold
Is Virtue's self in human mould,
The sovereign of the world confessed
As Indra rules among the Blest.
And dost thou plot from him to rend
The darling whom his arms defend?
Less vain the hope to steal away
The glory of the Lord of Day.
[273]
Canto XXXVII. Márícha's Speech.
965
O Rávaṇ, guard thee from the fire
Of vengeful Ráma's kindled ire,—
Each spark a shaft with deadly aim,
While bow and falchion feed the flame.
Cast not away in hopeless strife
Thy realm, thy bliss, thine own dear life.
O Rávaṇ of his might beware,
A God of Death who will not spare.
That bow he knows so well to draw
Is the destroyer's flaming jaw,
And with his shafts which flash and glow
He slays the armies of the foe.
Thou ne'er canst win—the thought forego—
From the safe guard of shaft and bow
King Janak's child, the dear delight
Of Ráma unapproached in might.
The spouse of Raghu's son, confessed
Lion of men with lion chest,—
Dearer than life, through good and ill
Devoted to her husband's will,
The slender-waisted, still must be
From thy polluting touches free.
Far better grasp with venturous hand
The flame to wildest fury fanned.
What, King of giants, canst thou gain
From this attempt so wild and vain?
If in the fight his eye he bend
Upon thee, Lord, thy days must end,
So life and bliss and royal sway,
Lost beyond hope, will pass away.
Summon each lord of high estate,
And chief, Vibhishaṇ490to debate.
490“The younger brother of the giant Rávaṇ; when he and his brother had
practiced austerities for a long series of years, Brahmá appeared to offer
966
The Ramayana
With peers in lore of counsel tried
Consider, reason, and decide
Scan strength and weakness, count the cost,
What may be gained and what be lost.
Examine and compare aright
Thy proper power and Ráma's might,
Then if thy weal be still thy care,
Thou wilt be prudent and forbear.
O giant King, the contest shun,
Thy force is all too weak
The lord of Kosál's mighty son
In deadly fray to seek.
King of the hosts that rove at night,
O hear what I advise:
My prudent counsel do not slight;
Be patient and be wise.”
Canto XXXVIII. Márícha's Speech.
them boons: Vibhishaṇa asked that he might never meditate any unrighteous-
ness.… On the death of Rávaṇ Vibhishaṇa was installed as Rája of Lanká.”
GARRETT'S{FNS Classical Dictionary of India.
Canto XXXVIII. Márícha's Speech.
967
“Once in my strength and vigour's pride
I roamed this earth from side to side,
And towering like a mountain's crest,
A thousand Nágas'491might possessed.
Like some vast sable cloud I showed:
My golden armlets flashed and glowed.
A crown I wore, an axe I swayed,
And all I met were sore afraid.
I roved where Daṇḍak wood is spread;
On flesh of slaughtered saints I fed.
Then Viśvámitra, sage revered,
Holy of heart, my fury feared.
To Daśaratha's court he sped
And went before the king and said:492
“With me, my lord, thy Ráma send
On holy days his aid to lend.
Márícha fills my soul with dread
And keeps me sore disquieted.”
The monarch heard the saint's request
And thus the glorious sage addressed:
“My boy as yet in arms untrained
The age of twelve has scarce attained.
But I myself a host will lead
To guard thee in the hour of need.
My host with fourfold troops complete,
The rover of the night shall meet,
And I, O best of saints, will kill
Thy foeman and thy prayer fulfil.”
The king vouchsafed his willing aid:
The saint again this answer made:
491Serpent-gods.
492See p. 33.
968
The Ramayana
“By Ráma's might, and his alone,
Can this great fiend be overthrown.
I know in days of yore the Blest
Thy saving help in fight confessed.
Still of thy famous deeds they tell
In heaven above, in earth, and hell,
A mighty host obeys thy hest:
Here let it still, I pray thee, rest.
Thy glorious son, though yet a boy,
Will in the fight that fiend destroy.
Ráma alone with me shall go:
Be happy, victor of the foe.”
He spoke: the monarch gave assent,
And Ráma to the hermit lent.
So to his woodland home in joy
Went Viśvámitra with the boy.
With ready bow the champion stood
To guard the rites in Daṇḍak wood.
With glorious eyes, most bright to view,
Beardless as yet and dark of hue;
A single robe his only wear,
His temples veiled with waving hair,
[274]
Around his neck a chain of gold,
He grasped the bow he loved to hold;
And the young hero's presence made
A glory in the forest shade.
Thus Ráma with his beauteous mien,
Like the young rising moon was seen,
I, like a cloud which tempest brings,
My arms adorned with golden rings,
Proud of the boon which lent me might,
Approached where dwelt the anchorite.
But Ráma saw me venturing nigh,
Canto XXXVIII. Márícha's Speech.
969
Raising my murderous axe on high;
He saw, and fearless of the foe,
Strung with calm hand his trusty bow.
By pride of conscious strength beguiled,
I scorned him as a feeble child,
And rushed with an impetuous bound
On Viśvámitra's holy ground.
A keen swift shaft he pointed well,
The foeman's rage to check and quell,
And hurled a hundred leagues away
Deep in the ocean waves I lay.
He would not kill, but, nobly brave,
My forfeit life he chose to save.
So there I lay with wandering sense
Dazed by that arrow's violence.
Long in the sea I lay: at length
Slowly returned my sense and strength,
And rising from my watery bed
To Lanká's town again I sped.
Thus was I spared, but all my band
Fell slain by Ráma's conquering hand,—
A boy, untrained in warrior's skill,
Of iron arm and dauntless will.
If thou with Ráma still, in spite
Of warning and of prayer, wilt fight,
I see terrific woes impend,
And dire defeat thy days will end.
Thy giants all will feel the blow
And share the fatal overthrow,
Who love the taste of joy and play,
The banquet and the festal day.
Thine eyes will see destruction take
Thy Lanká, lost for Sítá's sake,
And stately pile and palace fall
970
The Ramayana
With terrace, dome, and jewelled wall.
The good will die: the crime of kings
Destruction on the people brings:
The sinless die, as in the lake
The fish must perish with the snake.
The prostrate giants thou wilt see
Slain for this folly wrought by thee,
Their bodies bright with precious scent
And sheen of heavenly ornament;
Or see the remnant of thy train
Seek refuge far, when help is vain
And with their wives, or widowed, fly
To every quarter of the sky;
Thy mournful eyes, where'er they turn,
Will see thy stately city burn,
When royal homes with fire are red,
And arrowy nets around are spread.
A sin that tops all sins in shame
Is outrage to another's dame,
A thousand wives thy palace fill,
And countless beauties wait thy will.
O rest contented with thine own,
Nor let thy race be overthrown.
If thou, O King, hast still delight
In rank and wealth and power and might,
In noble wives, in troops of friends,
In all that royal state attends,
I warn thee, cast not all away,
Nor challenge Ráma to the fray.
If deaf to every friendly prayer,
Thou still wilt seek the strife,
And from the side of Ráma tear
His lovely Maithil wife,
Soon will thy life and empire end
Canto XXXIX. Márícha's Speech.
971
Destroyed by Ráma's bow,
And thou, with kith and kin and friend,
To Yáma's realm must go.”
Canto XXXIX. Márícha's Speech.
“I told thee of that dreadful day
When Ráma smote and spared to slay.
Now hear me, Rávaṇ, while I tell
What in the after time befell.
At length, restored to strength and pride,
I and two mighty fiends beside
Assumed the forms of deer and strayed
Through Daṇḍak wood in lawn and glade,
I reared terrific horns: beneath
Were flaming tongue and pointed teeth.
I roamed where'er my fancy led,
And on the flesh of hermits fed,
In sacred haunt, by hallowed tree,
Where'er the ritual fires might be.
A fearful shape, I wandered through
The wood, and many a hermit slew.
With ruthless rage the saints I killed
Who in the grove their tasks fulfilled.
When smitten to the earth they sank,
Their flesh I ate, their blood I drank,
And with my cruel deeds dismayed
All dwellers in the forest shade,
Spoiling their rites in bitter hate,
With human blood inebriate.
Once in the wood I chanced to see
972
The Ramayana
Ráma again, a devotee,
A hermit, fed on scanty fare,
Who made the good of all his care.
His noble wife was by his side,
And Lakshmaṇ in the battle tried.
In senseless pride I scorned the might
Of that illustrious anchorite,
And heedless of a hermit foe,
Recalled my earlier overthrow.
[275]
I charged him in my rage and scorn
To slay him with my pointed horn,
In heedless haste, to fury wrought
As on my former wounds I thought.
Then from the mighty bow he drew
Three foe-destroying arrows flew,
Keen-pointed, leaping from the string,
Swift as the wind or feathered king.
Dire shafts, on flesh of foemen fed,
Like rushing thunderbolts they sped,
With knots well smoothed and barbs well bent,
Shot e'en as one, the arrows went.
But I who Ráma's might had felt,
And knew the blows the hero dealt,
Escaped by rapid flight. The two
Who lingered on the spot, he slew.
I fled from mortal danger, freed
From the dire shaft by timely speed.
Now to deep thought my days I give,
And as a humble hermit live.
In every shrub, in every tree
I view that noblest devotee.
In every knotted trunk I mark
His deerskin and his coat of bark,
And see the bow-armed Ráma stand
Canto XXXIX. Márícha's Speech.
973
Like Yáma with his noose in hand.
I tell thee Rávaṇ, in my fright
A thousand Rámas mock my sight,
This wood with every bush and bough
Seems all one fearful Ráma now.
Throughout the grove there is no spot
So lonely where I see him not.
He haunts me in my dreams by night,
And wakes me with the wild affright.
The letter that begins his name
Sends terror through my startled frame.
The rapid cars whereon we ride,
The rich rare jewels, once my pride,
Have names493that strike upon mine ear
With hated sound that counsels fear.
His mighty strength too well I know,
Nor art thou match for such a foe.
Too strong were Raghus's son in fight
For Namuchi or Bali's might.
Then Ráma to the battle dare,
Or else be patient and forbear;
But, wouldst thou see me live in peace,
Let mention of the hero cease.
The good whose holy lives were spent
In deepest thought, most innocent,
With all their people many a time
Have perished through another's crime.
So in the common ruin, I
Must for another's folly die,
Do all thy strength and courage can,
But ne'er will I approve the plan.
For he, in might supremely great,
493The Sanskrit words for car and jewels begin with ra.
974
The Ramayana
The giant world could extirpate,
Since, when impetuous Khara sought
The grove of Janasthán and fought
For Śúrpaṇakhá's sake, he died
By Ráma's hand in battle tried.
How has he wronged thee? Soothly swear,
And Ráma's fault and sin declare.
I warn thee, and my words are wise,
I seek thy people's weal:
But if this rede thou wilt despise,
Nor hear my last appeal,
Thou with thy kin and all thy friends
In fight this day wilt die,
When his great bow the hero bends,
And shafts unerring fly.”
Canto XL. Rávan's Speech.
But Rávaṇ scorned the rede he gave
In timely words to warn and save,
E'en as the wretch who hates to live
Rejects the herb the leeches give.
By fate to sin and ruin spurred,
That sage advice the giant heard,
Then in reproaches hard and stern
Thus to Márícha spoke in turn:
Canto XL. Rávan's Speech.

Book III. Forest (part 2)