Book I. Childhood (part 2)

  • user warning: UPDATE command denied to user 'piv1691_db'@'91.206.200.87' for table 'cache_filter' query: UPDATE cache_filter SET data = '<p>148The Rákshas or giant Rávaṇ, king of Lanká.<br />\n149“ThemeaningofAśvins(fromaśvaahorse, Persianasp, Greekἵππος,Latin<br />\nequus, Welsh ech) is Horsemen. They were twin deities of whom frequent<br />\nmention is made in the Vedas and the Indian myths. The Aśvins have much<br />\nin common with the Dioscuri of Greece, and their mythical genealogy seems<br />\nto indicate that their origin was astronomical. They were, perhaps, at first the<br />\nmorning star and evening star. They are said to be the children of the sun and<br />\nthe nymph Aśviní, who is one of the lunar asterisms personified. In the popular<br />\nmythology they are regarded as the physicians of the Gods.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\n150The word Kumára (a young prince, a Childe) is also a proper name of<br />\nSkanda or Kártikeya God of War, the son of Śiva and Umá. The babe was<br />\nmatured in the fire.<br />\nCanto XXIV. The Spells.<br />\n119<br />\nNor let the occasion slip away.<br />\nLo, with two spells I thee invest,<br />\nThe mighty and the mightiest.<br />\nO\'er thee fatigue shall ne\'er prevail,<br />\nNor age or change thy limbs assail.<br />\nThee powers of darkness ne\'er shall smite<br />\nIn tranquil sleep or wild delight.<br />\nNo one is there in all the land<br />\nThine equal for the vigorous hand.<br />\n[037]<br />\nThou, when thy lips pronounce the spell,<br />\nShalt have no peer in heaven or hell.<br />\nNone in the world with thee shall vie,<br />\nO sinless one, in apt reply,<br />\nIn fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact,<br />\nWisdom to plan and skill to act.<br />\nThis double science take, and gain<br />\nGlory that shall for aye remain.<br />\nWisdom and judgment spring from each<br />\nOf these fair spells whose use I teach.<br />\nHunger and thirst unknown to thee,<br />\nHigh in the worlds thy rank shall be.<br />\nFor these two spells with might endued,<br />\nAre the Great Father\'s heavenly brood,<br />\nAnd thee, O Chief, may fitly grace,<br />\nThou glory of Kakutstha\'s race.<br />\nVirtues which none can match are thine,<br />\nLord, from thy birth, of gifts divine,<br />\nAnd now these spells of might shall cast<br />\nFresh radiance o\'er the gifts thou hast.”<br />\nThen Ráma duly touched the wave,<br />\nRaised suppliant hands, bowed low his head,<br />\nAnd took the spells the hermit gave,<br />\nWhose soul on contemplation fed.<br />\nFrom him whose might these gifts enhanced,<br />\n120<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nA brighter beam of glory glanced:<br />\nSo shines in all his autumn blaze<br />\nThe Day-God of the thousand rays.<br />\nThe hermit\'s wants those youths supplied,<br />\nAs pupils use to holy guide.<br />\nAnd then the night in sweet content<br />\nOn Sarjú\'s pleasant bank they spent.<br />\nCanto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love.<br />\nSoon as appeared the morning light<br />\nUp rose the mighty anchorite,<br />\nAnd thus to youthful Ráma said,<br />\nWho lay upon his leafy bed:<br />\n“High fate is hers who calls thee son:<br />\nArise, \'tis break of day;<br />\nRise, Chief, and let those rites be done<br />\nDue at the morning\'s ray.”151<br />\nAt that great sage\'s high behest<br />\nUp sprang the princely pair,<br />\nTo bathing rites themselves addressed,<br />\nAnd breathed the holiest prayer.<br />\nTheir morning task completed, they<br />\nTo Viśvámitra came<br />\nThat store of holy works, to pay<br />\nThe worship saints may claim.<br />\nThen to the hallowed spot they went<br />\n151“At the rising of the sun as well as at noon certain observances, invocations,<br />\nand prayers were prescribed which might under no circumstances be omitted.<br />\nOne of these observances was the recitation of the Sávitrí, a Vedic hymn to the<br />\nSun of wonderful beauty.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\nCanto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love.<br />\n121<br />\nAlong fair Sarjú\'s side<br />\nWhere mix her waters confluent<br />\nWith three-pathed Gangá\'s tide.152<br />\nThere was a sacred hermitage<br />\nWhere saints devout of mind<br />\nTheir lives through many a lengthened age<br />\nTo penance had resigned.<br />\nThat pure abode the princes eyed<br />\nWith unrestrained delight,<br />\nAnd thus unto the saint they cried,<br />\nRejoicing at the sight:<br />\n“Whose is that hermitage we see?<br />\nWho makes his dwelling there?<br />\nFull of desire to hear are we:<br />\nO Saint, the truth declare.”<br />\nThe hermit smiling made reply<br />\nTo the two boys\' request:<br />\n“Hear, Ráma, who in days gone by<br />\nThis calm retreat possessed.<br />\nKandarpa in apparent form,<br />\nCalled Káma153by the wise,<br />\nDared Umá\'s154new-wed lord to storm<br />\nAnd make the God his prize.<br />\n\'Gainst Stháṇu\'s155self, on rites austere<br />\n152Tripathaga, Three-path-go, flowing in heaven, on earth, and under the<br />\nearth. See Canto XLV.<br />\n153Tennyson\'s “Indian Cama,” the God of Love, known also by many other<br />\nnames.<br />\n154Umá, or Parvatí, was daughter of Himálaya, Monarch of mountains, and<br />\nwife of Śiva. See Kálidasa\'s Kumára Sambhava, or Birth of the War-God.<br />\n155Stháṇu. The Unmoving one, a name of Śiva.<br />\n122<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd vows intent,156they say,<br />\nHis bold rash hand he dared to rear,<br />\nThough Stháṇu cried, Away!<br />\nBut the God\'s eye with scornful glare<br />\nFell terrible on him.<br />\nDissolved the shape that was so fair<br />\n[038]<br />\nAnd burnt up every limb.<br />\nSince the great God\'s terrific rage<br />\nDestroyed his form and frame,<br />\nKáma in each succeeding age<br />\nHas borne Ananga\'s157name.<br />\nSo, where his lovely form decayed,<br />\nThis land is Anga styled:<br />\nSacred to him of old this shade,<br />\nAnd hermits undefiled.<br />\nHere Scripture-talking elders sway<br />\nEach sense with firm control,<br />\nAnd penance-rites have washed away<br />\nAll sin from every soul.<br />\nOne night, fair boy, we here will spend,<br />\nA pure stream on each hand,<br />\nAnd with to-morrow\'s light will bend<br />\nOur steps to yonder strand.<br />\nHere let us bathe, and free from stain<br />\nTo that pure grove repair,<br />\n156“The practice of austerities, voluntary tortures, and mortifications was<br />\nanciently universal in India, and was held by the Indians to be of immense<br />\nefficacy. Hence they mortified themselves to expiate sins, to acquire merits,<br />\nand to obtain superhuman gifts and powers; the Gods themselves sometimes<br />\nexercised themselves in such austerities, either to raise themselves to greater<br />\npower and grandeur, or to counteract the austerities of man which threatened<br />\nto prevail over them and to deprive them of heaven.… Such austerities were<br />\ncalled in India tapas (burning ardour, fervent devotion) and he who practised<br />\nthem tapasvin.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\n157The Bodiless one.<br />\nCanto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.<br />\n123<br />\nSacred to Káma, and remain<br />\nOne night in comfort there.”<br />\nWith penance\' far-discerning eye<br />\nThe saintly men beheld<br />\nTheir coming, and with transport high<br />\nEach holy bosom swelled.<br />\nTo Kuśik\'s son the gift they gave<br />\nThat honoured guest should greet,<br />\nWater they brought his feet to lave,<br />\nAnd showed him honor meet.<br />\nRáma and Lakshmaṇ next obtained<br />\nIn due degree their share.<br />\nThen with sweet talk the guests remained,<br />\nAnd charmed each listener there.<br />\nThe evening prayers were duly said<br />\nWith voices calm and low:<br />\nThen on the ground each laid his head<br />\nAnd slept till morning\'s glow.<br />\nCanto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.<br />\nWhen the fair light of morning rose<br />\nThe princely tamers of their foes<br />\nFollowed, his morning worship o\'er,<br />\nThe hermit to the river\'s shore.<br />\nThe high-souled men with thoughtful care<br />\nA pretty barge had stationed there.<br />\nAll cried, “O lord, this barge ascend,<br />\nAnd with thy princely followers bend<br />\nTo yonder side thy prosperous way<br />\nWith naught to check thee or delay.”<br />\n124<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nNor did the saint their rede reject:<br />\nHe bade farewell with due respect,<br />\nAnd crossed, attended by the twain,<br />\nThat river rushing to the main.<br />\nWhen now the bark was half way o\'er,<br />\nRáma and Lakshmaṇ heard the roar,<br />\nThat louder grew and louder yet,<br />\nOf waves by dashing waters met.<br />\nThen Ráma asked the mighty seer:<br />\n“What is the tumult that I hear<br />\nOf waters cleft in mid career?”<br />\nSoon as the speech of Ráma, stirred<br />\nBy deep desire to know, he heard,<br />\nThe pious saint began to tell<br />\nWhat paused the waters\' roar and swell:<br />\n“On high Kailása\'s distant hill<br />\nThere lies a noble lake<br />\nWhose waters, born from Brahmá\'s will,<br />\nThe name of Mánas158take.<br />\nThence, hallowing where\'er they flow,<br />\nThe streams of Sarjú fall,<br />\nAnd wandering through the plains below<br />\nEmbrace Ayodhyá\'s wall.<br />\nStill, still preserved in Sarjú\'s name<br />\nSarovar\'s159fame we trace.<br />\nThe flood of Brahma whence she came<br />\n158“A celebrated lake regarded in India as sacred. It lies in the lofty region<br />\nbetweenthenorthernhighlandsoftheHimálayasandmountKailása, theregion<br />\nof the sacred lakes. The poem, following the popular Indian belief, makes<br />\nthe river Sarayú (now Sarjú) flow from the Mánasa lake; the sources of the<br />\nriver are a little to the south about a day\'s journey from the lake. See Lassen,<br />\nIndische Alterthumshunde, page 34.” GORRESIO{FNS. Manas means mind;<br />\nmánasa, mental, mind-born.<br />\n159Sarovar means best of lakes. This is another of the poet\'s fanciful etymolo-<br />\ngies.<br />\nCanto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.<br />\n125<br />\nTo run her holy race.<br />\nTo meet great Gangá here she hies<br />\nWith tributary wave:<br />\nHence the loud roar ye hear arise,<br />\nOf floods that swell and rave.<br />\nHere, pride of Raghu\'s line, do thou<br />\nIn humble adoration bow.”<br />\nHe spoke. The princes both obeyed,<br />\nAnd reverence to each river paid.160<br />\nThey reached the southern shore at last,<br />\nAnd gaily on their journey passed.<br />\nA little space beyond there stood<br />\nA gloomy awe-inspiring wood.<br />\nThe monarch\'s noble son began<br />\nTo question thus the holy man:<br />\n“Whose gloomy forest meets mine eye<br />\nLike some vast cloud that fills the sky?<br />\nPathless and dark it seems to be,<br />\nWhere birds in thousands wander free;<br />\nWhere shrill cicadas\' cries resound,<br />\n[039]<br />\nAnd fowl of dismal note abound.<br />\nLion, rhinoceros, and bear,<br />\nBoar, tiger, elephant, are there,<br />\nThere shrubs and thorns run wild:<br />\nDháo, Sál, Bignonia, Bel,161are found,<br />\nAnd every tree that grows on ground.<br />\nHow is the forest styled?”<br />\n160Theconfluenceoftwoormoreriversisoftenaveneratedandholyplace. The<br />\nmost famous is Prayág or Allahabad, where the Sarasvatí by an underground<br />\ncourse is believed to join the Jumna and the Ganges.<br />\n161The botanical names of the trees mentioned in the text are Grislea Tormen-<br />\ntosa, Shorea Robusta, Echites Antidysenterica, Bignonia Suaveolens, Œgle<br />\nMarmelos, and Diospyrus Glutinosa. I have omitted the Kutaja (Echites) and<br />\nthe Tiṇḍuka (Diospyrus).<br />\n126<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe glorious saint this answer made:<br />\n“Dear child of Raghu, hear<br />\nWho dwells within the horrid shade<br />\nThat looks so dark and drear.<br />\nWhere now is wood, long ere this day<br />\nTwo broad and fertile lands,<br />\nMalaja and Karúsha lay,<br />\nAdorned by heavenly hands.<br />\nHere, mourning friendship\'s broken ties,<br />\nLord Indra of the thousand eyes<br />\nHungered and sorrowed many a day,<br />\nHis brightness soiled with mud and clay,<br />\nWhen in a storm of passion he<br />\nHad slain his dear friend Namuchi.<br />\nThen came the Gods and saints who bore<br />\nTheir golden pitchers brimming o\'er<br />\nWith holy streams that banish stain,<br />\nAnd bathed Lord Indra pure again.<br />\nWhen in this land the God was freed<br />\nFrom spot and stain of impious deed<br />\nFor that his own dear friend he slew,<br />\nHigh transport thrilled his bosom through.<br />\nThen in his joy the lands he blessed,<br />\nAnd gave a boon they long possessed:<br />\n“Because these fertile lands retain<br />\nThe washings of the blot and stain,”<br />\n\'Twas thus Lord Indra sware,<br />\n“Malaja and Karúsha\'s name<br />\nShall celebrate with deathless fame<br />\nMy malady and care.”162<br />\n162Here we meet with a fresh myth to account for the name of these regions.<br />\nMalaja is probably a non-Aryan word signifying a hilly country: taken as<br />\na Sanskrit compound it means sprung from defilement. The word Karúsha<br />\nappears to have a somewhat similar meaning.<br />\nCanto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.<br />\n127<br />\n“So be it,” all the Immortals cried,<br />\nWhen Indra\'s speech they heard,<br />\nAnd with acclaim they ratified<br />\nThe names his lips conferred.<br />\nLong time, O victor of thy foes,<br />\nThese happy lands had sweet repose,<br />\nAnd higher still in fortune rose.<br />\nAt length a spirit, loving ill,<br />\nTáḍaká, wearing shapes at will,<br />\nWhose mighty strength, exceeding vast,<br />\nA thousand elephants, surpassed,<br />\nWas to fierce Sunda, lord and head<br />\nOf all the demon armies, wed.<br />\nFrom her, Lord Indra\'s peer in might<br />\nGiant Márícha sprang to light:<br />\nAnd she, a constant plague and pest,<br />\nThese two fair realms has long distressed.<br />\nNow dwelling in her dark abode<br />\nA league away she bars the road:<br />\nAnd we, O Ráma, hence must go<br />\nWhere lies the forest of the foe.<br />\nNow on thine own right arm rely,<br />\nAnd my command obey:<br />\nSmite the foul monster that she die,<br />\nAnd take the plague away.<br />\nTo reach this country none may dare<br />\nFallen from its old estate,<br />\nWhich she, whose fury naught can bear,<br />\nHas left so desolate.<br />\nAnd now my truthful tale is told<br />\nHow with accursed sway<br />\nThe spirit plagued this wood of old,<br />\nAnd ceases not to-day.”<br />\n128<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nCanto XXVII. The Birth Of Tádaká.<br />\nWhen thus the sage without a peer<br />\nHad closed that story strange to hear,<br />\nRáma again the saint addressed<br />\nTo set one lingering doubt at rest:<br />\n“O holy man, \'tis said by all<br />\nThat spirits\' strength is weak and small:<br />\nHow can she match, of power so slight,<br />\nA thousand elephants in might?”<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra thus replied<br />\nTo Raghu\'s son the glorified:<br />\n“Listen, and I will tell thee how<br />\nShe gained the strength that arms her now.<br />\nA mighty spirit lived of yore;<br />\nSuketu was the name he bore.<br />\nChildless was he, and free from crime<br />\nIn rites austere he passed his time.<br />\nThe mighty Sire was pleased to show<br />\nHis favour, and a child bestow.<br />\nTáḍaká named, most fair to see,<br />\nA pearl among the maids was she,<br />\nAnd matched, for such was Brahmá\'s dower,<br />\nA thousand elephants in power.<br />\nNor would the Eternal Sire, although<br />\nThe spirit longed, a son bestow<br />\nThat maid in beauty\'s youthful pride<br />\nWas given to Sunda for a bride.<br />\nHer son, Márícha was his name,<br />\nA giant, through a curse, became.<br />\nShe, widowed, dared with him molest<br />\n[040]<br />\nCanto XXVII. The Birth Of Tádaká.<br />\n129<br />\nAgastya,163of all saints the best.<br />\nInflamed with hunger\'s wildest rage,<br />\nRoaring she rushed upon the sage.<br />\nWhen the great hermit saw her near,<br />\nOn speeding in her fierce career,<br />\nHe thus pronounced Márícha\'s doom:<br />\n“A giant\'s form and shape assume.”<br />\nAnd then, by mighty anger swayed,<br />\nOn Táḍaká this curse he laid:<br />\n“Thy present form and semblance quit,<br />\nAnd wear a shape thy mood to fit;<br />\nChanged form and feature by my ban,<br />\nA fearful thing that feeds on man.”<br />\nShe, by his awful curse possessed,<br />\nAnd mad with rage that fills her breast,<br />\nHas on this land her fury dealt<br />\nWhere once the saint Agastya dwelt.<br />\nGo, Ráma, smite this monster dead,<br />\nThe wicked plague, of power so dread,<br />\nAnd further by this deed of thine<br />\nThe good of Bráhmans and of kine.<br />\nThy hand alone can overthrow,<br />\nIn all the worlds, this impious foe.<br />\nNor let compassion lead thy mind<br />\nTo shrink from blood of womankind;<br />\nA monarch\'s son must ever count<br />\nThe people\'s welfare paramount,<br />\nAnd whether pain or joy he deal<br />\n163“This is one of those indefinable mythic personages who are found in the<br />\nancient traditions of many nations, and in whom cosmogonical or astronomical<br />\nnotions are generally figured. Thus it is related of Agastya that the Vindhyan<br />\nmountains prostrated themselves before him; and yet the same Agastya is<br />\nbelieved to be regent of the star Canopus.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\nHe will appear as the friend and helper of Ráma farther on in the poem.<br />\n130<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nDare all things for his subjects\' weal;<br />\nYea, if the deed bring praise or guilt,<br />\nIf life be saved or blood be spilt:<br />\nSuch, through all time, should be the care<br />\nOf those a kingdom\'s weight who bear.<br />\nSlay, Ráma, slay this impious fiend,<br />\nFor by no law her life is screened.<br />\nSo Manthará, as bards have told,<br />\nVirochan\'s child, was slain of old<br />\nBy Indra, when in furious hate<br />\nShe longed the earth to devastate.<br />\nSo Kávya\'s mother, Bhrigu\'s wife,<br />\nWho loved her husband as her life,<br />\nWhen Indra\'s throne she sought to gain,<br />\nBy Vishṇu\'s hand of yore was slain.<br />\nBy these and high-souled kings beside,<br />\nStruck down, have lawless women died.”<br />\nCanto XXVIII. The Death Of Tádaká.<br />\nThus spoke the saint. Each vigorous word<br />\nThe noble monarch\'s offspring heard,<br />\nAnd, reverent hands together laid,<br />\nHis answer to the hermit made:<br />\n“My sire and mother bade me aye<br />\nThy word, O mighty Saint, obey<br />\nSo will I, O most glorious, kill<br />\nThis Táḍaká who joys in ill,<br />\nFor such my sire\'s, and such thy will.<br />\nTo aid with mine avenging hand<br />\nThe Bráhmans, kine, and all the land,<br />\nCanto XXVIII. The Death Of Tádaká.<br />\n131<br />\nObedient, heart and soul, I stand.”<br />\nThus spoke the tamer of the foe,<br />\nAnd by the middle grasped his bow.<br />\nStrongly he drew the sounding string<br />\nThat made the distant welkin ring.<br />\nScared by the mighty clang the deer<br />\nThat roamed the forest shook with fear,<br />\nAnd Táḍaká the echo heard,<br />\nAnd rose in haste from slumber stirred.<br />\nIn wild amaze, her soul aflame<br />\nWith fury toward the spot she came.<br />\nWhen that foul shape of evil mien<br />\nAnd stature vast as e\'er was seen<br />\nThe wrathful son of Raghu eyed,<br />\nHe thus unto his brother cried:<br />\n“Her dreadful shape, O Lakshmaṇ, see,<br />\nA form to shudder at and flee.<br />\nThe hideous monster\'s very view<br />\nWould cleave a timid heart in two.<br />\nBehold the demon hard to smite,<br />\nDefended by her magic might.<br />\nMy hand shall stay her course to-day,<br />\nAnd shear her nose and ears away.<br />\nNo heart have I her life to take:<br />\nI spare it for her sex\'s sake.<br />\nMy will is but, with minished force,<br />\nTo check her in her evil course.”<br />\nWhile thus he spoke, by rage impelled<br />\nRoaring as she came nigh,<br />\nThe fiend her course at Ráma held<br />\nWith huge arms tossed on high.<br />\nHer, rushing on, the seer assailed<br />\nWith a loud cry of hate;<br />\n132<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd thus the sons of Raghu hailed:<br />\n“Fight, and be fortunate.”<br />\nThen from the earth a horrid cloud<br />\nOf dust the demon raised,<br />\nAnd for awhile in darkling shroud<br />\nWrapt Raghu\'s sons amazed.<br />\nThen calling on her magic power<br />\nThe fearful fight to wage,<br />\nShe smote him with a stony shower,<br />\nTill Ráma burned with rage.<br />\nThen pouring forth his arrowy rain<br />\nThat stony flood to stay,<br />\n[041]<br />\nWith winged darts, as she charged amain,<br />\nHe shore her hands away.<br />\nAs Táḍaká still thundered near<br />\nThus maimed by Ráma\'s blows,<br />\nLakshmaṇ in fury severed sheer<br />\nThe monster\'s ears and nose.<br />\nAssuming by her magic skill<br />\nA fresh and fresh disguise,<br />\nShe tried a thousand shapes at will,<br />\nThen vanished from their eyes.<br />\nWhen Gádhi\'s son of high renown<br />\nStill saw the stony rain pour down<br />\nUpon each princely warrior\'s head,<br />\nWith words of wisdom thus he said:<br />\n“Enough of mercy, Ráma, lest<br />\nThis sinful evil-working pest,<br />\nDisturber of each holy rite,<br />\nRepair by magic arts her might.<br />\nWithout delay the fiend should die,<br />\nFor, see, the twilight hour is nigh.<br />\nAnd at the joints of night and day<br />\nSuch giant foes are hard to slay.”<br />\nCanto XXVIII. The Death Of Tádaká.<br />\n133<br />\nThen Ráma, skilful to direct<br />\nHis arrow to the sound,<br />\nWith shafts the mighty demon checked<br />\nWho rained her stones around.<br />\nShe sore impeded and beset<br />\nBy Ráma and his arrowy net,<br />\nThough skilled in guile and magic lore,<br />\nRushed on the brothers with a roar.<br />\nDeformed, terrific, murderous, dread,<br />\nSwift as the levin on she sped,<br />\nLike cloudy pile in autumn\'s sky,<br />\nLifting her two vast arms on high,<br />\nWhen Ráma smote her with a dart,<br />\nShaped like a crescent, to the heart.<br />\nSore wounded by the shaft that came<br />\nWith lightning speed and surest aim,<br />\nBlood spouting from her mouth and side,<br />\nShe fell upon the earth and died.<br />\nSoon as the Lord who rules the sky<br />\nSaw the dread monster lifeless lie,<br />\nHe called aloud, Well done! well done!<br />\nAnd the Gods honoured Raghu\'s son.<br />\nStanding in heaven the Thousand-eyed,<br />\nWith all the Immortals, joying cried:<br />\n“Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and see<br />\nThe Gods and Indra nigh to thee.<br />\nThis deed of Ráma\'s boundless might<br />\nHas filled our bosoms with delight,<br />\nNow, for our will would have it so,<br />\nTo Raghu\'s son some favour show.<br />\nInvest him with the power which naught<br />\nBut penance gains and holy thought,<br />\nThose heavenly arms on him bestow<br />\nTo thee entrusted long ago<br />\n134<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBy great Kriśáśva best of kings,<br />\nSon of the Lord of living things.<br />\nMore fit recipient none can be<br />\nThan he who joys it following thee;<br />\nAnd for our sakes the monarch\'s seed<br />\nHas yet to do a mighty deed.”<br />\nHe spoke; and all the heavenly train<br />\nRejoicing sought their homes again,<br />\nWhile honour to the saint they paid.<br />\nThen came the evening\'s twilight shade,<br />\nThe best of hermits overjoyed<br />\nTo know the monstrous fiend destroyed,<br />\nHis lips on Ráma\'s forehead pressed,<br />\nAnd thus the conquering chief addressed:<br />\n“O Ráma gracious to the sight.<br />\nHere will we pass the present night,<br />\nAnd with the morrow\'s earliest ray<br />\nBend to my hermitage our way.”<br />\nThe son of Daśaratha heard,<br />\nDelighted, Viśvámitra\'s word,<br />\nAnd as he bade, that night he spent<br />\nIn Táḍaká\'s wild wood, content.<br />\nAnd the grove shone that happy day,<br />\nFreed from the curse that on it lay,<br />\nLike Chaitraratha164fair and gay.<br />\nCanto XXIX. The Celestial Arms.<br />\n164The famous pleasure-garden of Kuvera the God of Wealth.<br />\nCanto XXIX. The Celestial Arms.<br />\n135<br />\nThat night they slept and took their rest;<br />\nAnd then the mighty saint addressed,<br />\nWith pleasant smile and accents mild<br />\nThese words to Raghu\'s princely child:<br />\n“Well pleased am I. High fate be thine,<br />\nThou scion of a royal line.<br />\nNow will I, for I love thee so,<br />\nAll heavenly arms on thee bestow.<br />\nVictor with these, whoe\'er oppose,<br />\nThy hand shall conquer all thy foes,<br />\nThough Gods and spirits of the air,<br />\nSerpents and fiends, the conflict dare.<br />\nI\'ll give thee as a pledge of love<br />\nThe mystic arms they use above,<br />\nFor worthy thou to have revealed<br />\nThe weapons I have learnt to wield.165<br />\n[042]<br />\nFirst, son of Raghu, shall be thine<br />\nThe arm of Vengeance, strong, divine:<br />\nThe arm of Fate, the arm of Right,<br />\nAnd Vishṇu\'s arm of awful might:<br />\nThat, before which no foe can stand,<br />\nThe thunderbolt of Indra\'s hand;<br />\nAnd Śiva\'s trident, sharp and dread,<br />\nAnd that dire weapon Brahmá\'s Head.<br />\nAnd two fair clubs, O royal child,<br />\nOne Charmer and one Pointed styled<br />\nWith flame of lambent fire aglow,<br />\n165“ThewholeofthisCantotogetherwiththefollowingone, regardsthebelief,<br />\nformerly prevalent in India, that by virtue of certain spells, to be learnt and<br />\nmuttered, secret knowledge and superhuman powers might be acquired. To<br />\nthis the poet has already alluded in Canto xxiii. These incorporeal weapons are<br />\npartly represented according to the fashion of those ascribed to the Gods and<br />\nthe different orders of demi-gods, partly are the mere creations of fancy; and it<br />\nwould not be easy to say what idea the poet had of them in his own mind, or<br />\nwhat powers he meant to assign to each.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\n136<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOn thee, O Chieftain, I bestow.<br />\nAnd Fate\'s dread net and Justice\' noose<br />\nThat none may conquer, for thy use:<br />\nAnd the great cord, renowned of old,<br />\nWhich Varuṇ ever loves to hold.<br />\nTake these two thunderbolts, which I<br />\nHave got for thee, the Moist and Dry.<br />\nHere Śiva\'s dart to thee I yield,<br />\nAnd that which Vishṇu wont to wield.<br />\nI give to thee the arm of Fire,<br />\nDesired by all and named the Spire.<br />\nTo thee I grant the Wind-God\'s dart,<br />\nNamed Crusher, O thou pure of heart,<br />\nThis arm, the Horse\'s Head, accept,<br />\nAnd this, the Curlew\'s Bill yclept,<br />\nAnd these two spears, the best e\'er flew,<br />\nNamed the Invincible and True.<br />\nAnd arms of fiends I make thine own,<br />\nSkull-wreath and mace that smashes bone.<br />\nAnd Joyous, which the spirits bear,<br />\nGreat weapon of the sons of air.<br />\nBrave offspring of the best of lords,<br />\nI give thee now the Gem of swords,<br />\nAnd offer next, thine hand to arm,<br />\nThe heavenly bards\' beloved charm.<br />\nNow with two arms I thee invest<br />\nOf never-ending Sleep and Rest,<br />\nWith weapons of the Sun and Rain,<br />\nAnd those that dry and burn amain;<br />\nAnd strong Desire with conquering touch,<br />\nThe dart that Káma prizes much.<br />\nI give the arm of shadowy powers<br />\nThat bleeding flesh of men devours.<br />\nI give the arms the God of Gold<br />\nCanto XXIX. The Celestial Arms.<br />\n137<br />\nAnd giant fiends exult to hold.<br />\nThis smites the foe in battle-strife,<br />\nAnd takes his fortune, strength, and life.<br />\nI give the arms called False and True,<br />\nAnd great Illusion give I too;<br />\nThe hero\'s arm called Strong and Bright<br />\nThat spoils the foeman\'s strength in fight.<br />\nI give thee as a priceless boon<br />\nThe Dew, the weapon of the Moon,<br />\nAnd add the weapon, deftly planned,<br />\nThat strengthens Viśvakarmá\'s hand.<br />\nThe Mortal dart whose point is chill,<br />\nAnd Slaughter, ever sure to kill;<br />\nAll these and other arms, for thou<br />\nArt very dear, I give thee now.<br />\nReceive these weapons from my hand,<br />\nSon of the noblest in the land.”<br />\nFacing the east, the glorious saint<br />\nPure from all spot of earthly taint,<br />\nTo Ráma, with delighted mind,<br />\nThat noble host of spells consigned.<br />\nHe taught the arms, whose lore is won<br />\nHardly by Gods, to Raghu\'s son.<br />\nHe muttered low the spell whose call<br />\nSummons those arms and rules them all<br />\nAnd, each in visible form and frame,<br />\nBefore the monarch\'s son they came.<br />\nThey stood and spoke in reverent guise<br />\nTo Ráma with exulting cries:<br />\n“O noblest child of Raghu, see,<br />\nThy ministers and thralls are we.”<br />\nWith joyful heart and eager hand<br />\nRáma received the wondrous band,<br />\n138<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd thus with words of welcome cried:<br />\n“Aye present to my will abide.”<br />\nThen hasted to the saint to pay<br />\nDue reverence, and pursued his way.<br />\nCanto XXX. The Mysterious Powers.166<br />\nPure, with glad cheer and joyful breast,<br />\nOf those mysterious arms possessed,<br />\nRáma, now passing on his way,<br />\nThus to the saint began to say:<br />\n“Lord of these mighty weapons, I<br />\nCan scarce be harmed by Gods on high;<br />\nNow, best of saints, I long to gain<br />\nThe powers that can these arms restrain.”<br />\nThus spoke the prince. The sage austere,<br />\nTrue to his vows, from evil clear,<br />\nCalled forth the names of those great charms<br />\nWhose powers restrain the deadly arms.<br />\n“Receive thou True and Truly famed,<br />\nAnd Bold and Fleet: the weapons named<br />\n[043]<br />\n166“In Sanskrit Sankára, a word which has various significations but the<br />\nprimary meaning of which is the act of seizing. A magical power seems<br />\nto be implied of employing the weapons when and where required. The<br />\nremarks I have made on the preceding Canto apply with still greater force<br />\nto this. The MSS. greatly vary in the enumeration of these Sankáras, and<br />\nit is not surprising that copyists have incorrectly written the names which<br />\nthey did not well understand. The commentators throw no light upon the<br />\nsubject.” SCHLEGEL{FNS. I have taken the liberty of omitting four of these<br />\nwhich Schlegel translates “Scleromphalum, Euomphalum, Centiventrem, and<br />\nChrysomphalum.”<br />\nCanto XXX. The Mysterious Powers.<br />\n139<br />\nWarder and Progress, swift of pace,<br />\nAverted-head and Drooping-face;<br />\nThe Seen, and that which Secret flies;<br />\nThe weapon of the thousand eyes;<br />\nTen-headed, and the Hundred-faced,<br />\nStar-gazer and the Layer-waste:<br />\nThe Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot,<br />\nThe pair that wake and slumber not:<br />\nThe Fiendish, that which shakes amain,<br />\nThe Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain:<br />\nThe Guardian, and the Close-allied,<br />\nThe Gaper, Love, and Golden-side:<br />\nO Raghu\'s son receive all these,<br />\nBright ones that wear what forms they please;<br />\nKriśáśva\'s mystic sons are they,<br />\nAnd worthy thou their might to sway.”<br />\nWith joy the pride of Raghu\'s race<br />\nReceived the hermit\'s proffered grace,<br />\nMysterious arms, to check and stay,<br />\nOr smite the foeman in the fray.<br />\nThen, all with heavenly forms endued,<br />\nNigh came the wondrous multitude.<br />\nCelestial in their bright attire<br />\nSome shone like coals of burning fire;<br />\nSome were like clouds of dusky smoke;<br />\nAnd suppliant thus they sweetly spoke:<br />\n“Thy thralls, O Ráma, here we stand:<br />\nCommand, we pray, thy faithful band”<br />\n“Depart,” he cried, “where each may list,<br />\nBut when I call you to assist,<br />\nBe present to my mind with speed,<br />\nAnd aid me in the hour of need.”<br />\n140<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTo Ráma then they lowly bent,<br />\nAnd round him in due reverence went,<br />\nTo his command, they answered, Yea,<br />\nAnd as they came so went away.<br />\nWhen thus the arms had homeward flown,<br />\nWith pleasant words and modest tone,<br />\nE\'en as he walked, the prince began<br />\nTo question thus the holy man:<br />\n“What cloudlike wood is that which near<br />\nThe mountain\'s side I see appear?<br />\nO tell me, for I long to know;<br />\nIts pleasant aspect charms me so.<br />\nIts glades are full of deer at play,<br />\nAnd sweet birds sing on every spray,<br />\nPast is the hideous wild; I feel<br />\nSo sweet a tremor o\'er me steal,<br />\nAnd hail with transport fresh and new<br />\nA land that is so fair to view.<br />\nThen tell me all, thou holy Sage,<br />\nAnd whose this pleasant hermitage<br />\nIn which those wicked ones delight<br />\nTo mar and kill each holy rite.<br />\nAnd with foul heart and evil deed<br />\nThy sacrifice, great Saint, impede.<br />\nTo whom, O Sage, belongs this land<br />\nIn which thine altars ready stand!<br />\n\'Tis mine to guard them, and to slay<br />\nThe giants who the rites would stay.<br />\nAll this, O best of saints, I burn<br />\nFrom thine own lips, my lord, to learn.”<br />\nCanto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.<br />\nCanto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.<br />\n141<br />\nThus spoke the prince of boundless might,<br />\nAnd thus replied the anchorite:<br />\n“Chief of the mighty arm, of yore<br />\nLord Vishṇu whom the Gods adore,<br />\nFor holy thought and rites austere<br />\nOf penance made his dwelling here.<br />\nThis ancient wood was called of old<br />\nGrove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled,<br />\nAnd when perfection he attained<br />\nThe grove the name of Perfect gained.<br />\nBali of yore, Virochan\'s son,<br />\nDominion over Indra won,<br />\nAnd when with power his proud heart swelled,<br />\nO\'er the three worlds his empire held.<br />\nWhen Bali then began a rite,<br />\nThe Gods and Indra in affright<br />\nSought Vishṇu in this place of rest,<br />\nAnd thus with prayers the God addressed:<br />\n“Bali. Virochan\'s mighty son,<br />\nHis sacrifice has now begun:<br />\nOf boundless wealth, that demon king<br />\nIs bounteous to each living thing.<br />\nThough suppliants flock from every side<br />\nThe suit of none is e\'er denied.<br />\nWhate\'er, where\'er howe\'er the call,<br />\nHe hears the suit and gives to all.<br />\nNow with thine own illusive art<br />\nPerform, O Lord, the helper\'s part:<br />\nAssume a dwarfish form, and thus<br />\nFrom fear and danger rescue us.”167<br />\n167I omit, after this line, eight ślokes which, as Schlegel allows, are quite out<br />\nof place.<br />\n142<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThus in their dread the Immortals sued:<br />\nThe God a dwarflike shape indued:168<br />\nBefore Virochan\'s son he came,<br />\nThree steps of land his only claim.<br />\nThe boon obtained, in wondrous wise<br />\nLord Vishṇu\'s form increased in size;<br />\nThrough all the worlds, tremendous, vast,<br />\nGod of the Triple Step, he passed.169<br />\nThe whole broad earth from side to side<br />\nHe measured with one mighty stride,<br />\nSpanned with the next the firmament,<br />\nAnd with the third through heaven he went.<br />\n[044]<br />\nThus was the king of demons hurled<br />\nBy Vishṇu to the nether world,<br />\nAnd thus the universe restored<br />\nTo Indra\'s rule, its ancient lord.<br />\nAnd now because the immortal God<br />\nThis spot in dwarflike semblance trod,<br />\nThe grove has aye been loved by me<br />\nFor reverence of the devotee.<br />\nBut demons haunt it, prompt to stay<br />\nEach holy offering I would pay.<br />\nBe thine, O lion-lord, to kill<br />\nThese giants that delight in ill.<br />\nThis day, beloved child, our feet<br />\nShall rest within the calm retreat:<br />\nAnd know, thou chief of Raghu\'s line,<br />\nMy hermitage is also thine.”<br />\n168This is the fifth of the avatárs, descents or incarnations of Vishṇu.<br />\n169This is a solar allegory. Vishṇu is the sun, the three steps being his rising,<br />\nculmination, and setting.<br />\nCanto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.<br />\n143<br />\nHe spoke; and soon the anchorite,<br />\nWith joyous looks that beamed delight,<br />\nWith Ráma and his brother stood<br />\nWithin the consecrated wood.<br />\nSoon as they saw the holy man,<br />\nWith one accord together ran<br />\nThe dwellers in the sacred shade,<br />\nAnd to the saint their reverence paid,<br />\nAnd offered water for his feet,<br />\nThe gift of honour and a seat;<br />\nAnd next with hospitable care<br />\nThey entertained the princely pair.<br />\nThe royal tamers of their foes<br />\nRested awhile in sweet repose:<br />\nThen to the chief of hermits sued<br />\nStanding in suppliant attitude:<br />\n“Begin, O best of saints, we pray,<br />\nInitiatory rites to-day.<br />\nThis Perfect Grove shall be anew<br />\nMade perfect, and thy words be true.”<br />\nThen, thus addressed, the holy man,<br />\nThe very glorious sage, began<br />\nThe high preliminary rite.<br />\nRestraining sense and appetite.<br />\nCalmly the youths that night reposed,<br />\nAnd rose when morn her light disclosed,<br />\nTheir morning worship paid, and took<br />\nOf lustral water from the brook.<br />\nThus purified they breathed the prayer,<br />\nThen greeted Viśvámitra where<br />\nAs celebrant he sate beside<br />\nThe flame with sacred oil supplied.<br />\n144<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nCanto XXXII. Visvámitra\'s Sacrifice.<br />\nThat conquering pair, of royal race,<br />\nSkilled to observe due time and place,<br />\nTo Kuśik\'s hermit son addressed,<br />\nIn timely words, their meet request:<br />\n“When must we, lord, we pray thee tell,<br />\nThose Rovers of the Night repel?<br />\nSpeak, lest we let the moment fly,<br />\nAnd pass the due occasion by.”<br />\nThus longing for the strife, they prayed,<br />\nAnd thus the hermits answer made:<br />\n“Till the fifth day be come and past,<br />\nO Raghu\'s sons, your watch must last.<br />\nThe saint his Dikshá170has begun,<br />\nAnd all that time will speak to none.”<br />\nSoon as the steadfast devotees<br />\nHad made reply in words like these,<br />\nThe youths began, disdaining sleep,<br />\nSix days and nights their watch to keep.<br />\nThe warrior pair who tamed the foe,<br />\nUnrivalled benders of the bow,<br />\nKept watch and ward unwearied still<br />\nTo guard the saint from scathe and ill.<br />\n\'Twas now the sixth returning day,<br />\nThe hour foretold had past away.<br />\nThen Ráma cried: “O Lakshmaṇ, now<br />\nFirm, watchful, resolute be thou.<br />\nThe fiends as yet have kept afar<br />\nFrom the pure grove in which we are:<br />\nYet waits us, ere the day shall close,<br />\nDire battle with the demon foes.”<br />\n170Certain ceremonies preliminary to a sacrifice.<br />\nCanto XXXII. Visvámitra\'s Sacrifice.<br />\n145<br />\nWhile thus spoke Ráma borne away<br />\nBy longing for the deadly fray,<br />\nSee! bursting from the altar came<br />\nThe sudden glory of the flame.<br />\nRound priest and deacon, and upon<br />\nGrass, ladles, flowers, the splendour shone,<br />\nAnd the high rite, in order due,<br />\nWith sacred texts began anew.<br />\nBut then a loud and fearful roar<br />\nRe-echoed through the sky;<br />\nAnd like vast clouds that shadow o\'er<br />\nThe heavens in dark July,<br />\nInvolved in gloom of magic might<br />\nTwo fiends rushed on amain,<br />\nMárícha, Rover of the Night,<br />\nSuváhu, and their train.<br />\nAs on they came in wild career<br />\nThick blood in rain they shed;<br />\nAnd Ráma saw those things of fear<br />\nImpending overhead.<br />\nThen soon as those accursed two<br />\nWho showered down blood be spied,<br />\nThus to his brother brave and true<br />\nSpoke Ráma lotus-eyed:<br />\n“Now, Lakshmaṇ, thou these fiends shalt see,<br />\nMan-eaters, foul of mind,<br />\nBefore my mortal weapon flee<br />\nLike clouds before the wind.”<br />\nHe spoke. An arrow, swift as thought,<br />\nUpon his bow he pressed,<br />\nAnd smote, to utmost fury wrought,<br />\nMárícha on the breast.<br />\nDeep in his flesh the weapon lay<br />\nWinged by the mystic spell,<br />\n[045]<br />\n146<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd, hurled a hundred leagues away,<br />\nIn ocean\'s flood he fell.<br />\nThen Ráma, when he saw the foe<br />\nConvulsed and mad with pain<br />\nNeath the chill-pointed weapon\'s blow,<br />\nTo Lakshmaṇ spoke again:<br />\n“See, Lakshmaṇ, see! this mortal dart<br />\nThat strikes a numbing chill,<br />\nHath struck him senseless with the smart,<br />\nBut left him breathing still.<br />\nBut these who love the evil way,<br />\nAnd drink the blood they spill,<br />\nRejoicing holy rites to stay,<br />\nFierce plagues, my hand shall kill.”<br />\nHe seized another shaft, the best,<br />\nAglow with living flame;<br />\nIt struck Suváhu on the chest,<br />\nAnd dead to earth he came.<br />\nAgain a dart, the Wind-God\'s own,<br />\nUpon his string he laid,<br />\nAnd all the demons were o\'erthrown,<br />\nThe saints no more afraid.<br />\nWhen thus the fiends were slain in fight,<br />\nDisturbers of each holy rite,<br />\nDue honour by the saints was paid<br />\nTo Ráma for his wondrous aid:<br />\nSo Indra is adored when he<br />\nHas won some glorious victory.<br />\nSuccess at last the rite had crowned,<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra gazed around,<br />\nAnd seeing every side at rest,<br />\nThe son of Raghu thus addressed:<br />\n“My joy, O Prince, is now complete:<br />\nThou hast obeyed my will:<br />\nCanto XXXIII. The Sone.<br />\n147<br />\nPerfect before, this calm retreat<br />\nIs now more perfect still.”<br />\nCanto XXXIII. The Sone.<br />\nTheir task achieved, the princes spent<br />\nThat night with joy and full content.<br />\nEre yet the dawn was well displayed<br />\nTheir morning rites they duly paid,<br />\nAnd sought, while yet the light was faint,<br />\nThe hermits and the mighty saint.<br />\nThey greeted first that holy sire<br />\nResplendent like the burning fire,<br />\nAnd then with noble words began<br />\nTheir sweet speech to the sainted man:<br />\n“Here stand, O Lord, thy servants true:<br />\nCommand what thou wouldst have us do.”<br />\nThe saints, by Viśvámitra led,<br />\nTo Ráma thus in answer said:<br />\n“Janak the king who rules the land<br />\nOf fertile Míthilá has planned<br />\nA noble sacrifice, and we<br />\nWill thither go the rite to see.<br />\nThou, Prince of men, with us shalt go,<br />\nAnd there behold the wondrous bow,<br />\nTerrific, vast, of matchless might,<br />\nWhich, splendid at the famous rite,<br />\nThe Gods assembled gave the king.<br />\nNo giant, fiend, or God can string<br />\nThat gem of bows, no heavenly bard:<br />\n148<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThen, sure, for man the task were hard.<br />\nWhen lords of earth have longed to know<br />\nThe virtue of that wondrous bow,<br />\nThe strongest sons of kings in vain<br />\nHave tried the mighty cord to strain.<br />\nThis famous bow thou there shalt view,<br />\nAnd wondrous rites shalt witness too.<br />\nThe high-souled king who lords it o\'er<br />\nThe realm of Míthilá of yore<br />\nGained from the Gods this bow, the price<br />\nOf his imperial sacrifice.<br />\nWon by the rite the glorious prize<br />\nStill in the royal palace lies,<br />\nLaid up in oil of precious scent<br />\nWith aloe-wood and incense blent.”<br />\nThen Ráma answering, Be it so,<br />\nMade ready with the rest to go.<br />\nThe saint himself was now prepared,<br />\nBut ere beyond the grove he fared,<br />\nHe turned him and in words like these<br />\nAddressed the sylvan deities:<br />\n“Farewell! each holy rite complete,<br />\nI leave the hermits\' perfect seat:<br />\nTo Gangá\'s northern shore I go<br />\nBeneath Himálaya\'s peaks of snow.”<br />\nWith reverent steps he paced around<br />\nThe limits of the holy ground,<br />\nAnd then the mighty saint set forth<br />\nAnd took his journey to the north.<br />\nHis pupils, deep in Scripture\'s page,<br />\nFollowed behind the holy sage,<br />\nAnd servants from the sacred grove<br />\nA hundred wains for convoy drove.<br />\nCanto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.<br />\n149<br />\nThe very birds that winged that air,<br />\nThe very deer that harboured there,<br />\nForsook the glade and leafy brake<br />\nAnd followed for the hermit\'s sake.<br />\nThey travelled far, till in the west<br />\nThe sun was speeding to his rest,<br />\nAnd made, their portioned journey o\'er,<br />\nTheir halt on Śona\'s171distant shore.<br />\nThe hermits bathed when sank the sun,<br />\nAnd every rite was duly done,<br />\nOblations paid to Fire, and then<br />\nSate round their chief the holy men.<br />\nRáma and Lakshmaṇ lowly bowed<br />\nIn reverence to the hermit crowd,<br />\nAnd Ráma, having sate him down<br />\nBefore the saint of pure renown,<br />\n[046]<br />\nWith humble palms together laid<br />\nHis eager supplication made:<br />\n“What country, O my lord, is this,<br />\nFair-smiling in her wealth and bliss?<br />\nDeign fully, O thou mighty Seer,<br />\nTo tell me, for I long to hear.”<br />\nMoved by the prayer of Ráma, he<br />\nTold forth the country\'s history.<br />\nCanto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.<br />\n171A river which rises in Budelcund and falls into the Ganges near Patna. It is<br />\ncalled also Hiraṇyaráhu, Golden-armed, and Hiraṇyaráha, Auriferous.<br />\n150<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“A king of Brahmá\'s seed who bore<br />\nThe name of Kuśa reigned of yore.<br />\nJust, faithful to his vows, and true,<br />\nHe held the good in honour due.<br />\nHis bride, a queen of noble name,<br />\nOf old Vidarbha\'s172monarchs came.<br />\nLike their own father, children four,<br />\nAll valiant boys, the lady bore.<br />\nIn glorious deeds each nerve they strained,<br />\nAnd well their Warrior part sustained.<br />\nTo them most just, and true, and brave,<br />\nTheir father thus his counsel gave:<br />\n“Beloved children, ne\'er forget<br />\nProtection is a prince\'s debt:<br />\nThe noble work at once begin,<br />\nHigh virtue and her fruits to win.”<br />\nThe youths, to all the people dear,<br />\nReceived his speech with willing ear;<br />\nAnd each went forth his several way,<br />\nFoundations of a town to lay.<br />\nKuśámba, prince of high renown,<br />\nWas builder of Kauśámbí\'s town,<br />\nAnd Kuśanábha, just and wise,<br />\nBade high Mahodaya\'s towers arise.<br />\nAmúrtarajas chose to dwell<br />\nIn Dharmáraṇya\'s citadel,<br />\nAnd Vasu bade his city fair<br />\nThe name of Girivraja bear.173<br />\n172The modern Berar.<br />\n173According to the Bengal recension the first (Kuśámba) is called Kuśáśva,<br />\nand his city Kauśáśví. This name does not occur elsewhere. The reading<br />\nof the northern recension is confirmed by Foê Kouê Ki; p. 385, where the<br />\ncity Kiaoshangmi is mentioned. It lay 500 lis to the south-west of Prayága,<br />\non the south bank of the Jumna. Mahodaya is another name of Kanyakubja:<br />\nDharmáraṇya, the wood to which the God of Justice is said to have fled<br />\nCanto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.<br />\n151<br />\nThis fertile spot whereon we stand<br />\nWas once the high-souled Vasu\'s land.<br />\nBehold! as round we turn our eyes,<br />\nFive lofty mountain peaks arise.<br />\nSee! bursting from her parent hill,<br />\nSumágadhí, a lovely rill,<br />\nBright gleaming as she flows between<br />\nThe mountains, like a wreath is seen,<br />\nAnd then through Magadh\'s plains and groves<br />\nWith many a fair mæander roves.<br />\nAnd this was Vasu\'s old domain,<br />\nThe fertile Magadh\'s broad champaign,<br />\nWhich smiling fields of tilth adorn<br />\nAnd diadem with golden corn.<br />\nThe queen Ghritáchí, nymph most fair,<br />\nMarried to Kuśanábha, bare<br />\nA hundred daughters, lovely-faced,<br />\nWith every charm and beauty graced.<br />\nIt chanced the maidens, bright and gay<br />\nAs lightning-flashes on a day<br />\nOf rain time, to the garden went<br />\nWith song and play and merriment,<br />\nAnd there in gay attire they strayed,<br />\nAnd danced, and laughed, and sang, and played.<br />\nThe God of Wind who roves at will<br />\nAll places, as he lists, to fill,<br />\nSaw the young maidens dancing there,<br />\nOf faultless shape and mien most fair.<br />\n“I love you all, sweet girls,” he cried,<br />\n“And each shall be my darling bride.<br />\nForsake, forsake your mortal lot,<br />\nthrough fear of Soma the Moon-God was in Magadh. Girivraja was in the same<br />\nneighbourhood. See Lasson\'s I, A. Vol. I. p. 604.<br />\n152<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd gain a life that withers not.<br />\nA fickle thing is youth\'s brief span,<br />\nAnd more than all in mortal man.<br />\nReceive unending youth, and be<br />\nImmortal, O my loves, with me.”<br />\nThe hundred girls, to wonder stirred,<br />\nThe wooing of the Wind-God heard,<br />\nLaughed, as a jest, his suit aside,<br />\nAnd with one voice they thus replied:<br />\n“O mighty Wind, free spirit who<br />\nAll life pervadest, through and through,<br />\nThy wondrous power we maidens know;<br />\nThen wherefore wilt thou mock us so?<br />\nOur sire is Kuśanábha, King;<br />\nAnd we, forsooth, have charms to bring<br />\nA God to woo us from the skies;<br />\nBut honour first we maidens prize.<br />\nFar may the hour, we pray, be hence,<br />\nWhen we, O thou of little sense,<br />\nOur truthful father\'s choice refuse,<br />\nAnd for ourselves our husbands choose.<br />\nOur honoured sire our lord we deem,<br />\nHe is to us a God supreme,<br />\nAnd they to whom his high decree<br />\nMay give us shall our husbands be.”<br />\nHe heard the answer they returned,<br />\nAnd mighty rage within him burned.<br />\nOn each fair maid a blast he sent:<br />\nEach stately form he bowed and bent.<br />\nBent double by the Wind-God\'s ire<br />\nThey sought the palace of their sire,<br />\n[047]<br />\nCanto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.<br />\n153<br />\nThere fell upon the ground with sighs,<br />\nWhile tears and shame were in their eyes.<br />\nThe king himself, with troubled brow,<br />\nSaw his dear girls so fair but now,<br />\nA mournful sight all bent and bowed,<br />\nAnd grieving thus he cried aloud:<br />\n“What fate is this, and what the cause?<br />\nWhat wretch has scorned all heavenly laws?<br />\nWho thus your forms could curve and break?<br />\nYou struggle, but no answer make.”<br />\nThey heard the speech of that wise king<br />\nOf their misfortune questioning.<br />\nAgain the hundred maidens sighed,<br />\nTouched with their heads his feet, and cried:<br />\n“The God of Wind, pervading space,<br />\nWould bring on us a foul disgrace,<br />\nAnd choosing folly\'s evil way<br />\nFrom virtue\'s path in scorn would stray.<br />\nBut we in words like these reproved<br />\nThe God of Wind whom passion moved:<br />\n“Farewell, O Lord! A sire have we,<br />\nNo women uncontrolled and free.<br />\nGo, and our sire\'s consent obtain<br />\nIf thou our maiden hands wouldst gain.<br />\nNo self-dependent life we live:<br />\nIf we offend, our fault forgive.”<br />\nBut led by folly as a slave,<br />\nHe would not hear the rede we gave,<br />\nAnd even as we gently spoke<br />\nWe felt the Wind-God\'s crushing stroke.”<br />\n154<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe pious king, with grief distressed,<br />\nThe noble hundred thus addressed:<br />\n“With patience, daughters, bear your fate,<br />\nYours was a deed supremely great<br />\nWhen with one mind you kept from shame<br />\nThe honour of your father\'s name.<br />\nPatience, when men their anger vent,<br />\nIs woman\'s praise and ornament;<br />\nYet when the Gods inflict the blow<br />\nHard is it to support the woe.<br />\nPatience, my girls, exceeds all price:<br />\n\'Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice.<br />\nPatience is virtue, patience fame:<br />\nPatience upholds this earthly frame.<br />\nAnd now, I think, is come the time<br />\nTo wed you in your maiden prime.<br />\nNow, daughters, go where\'er you will:<br />\nThoughts for your good my mind shall fill.”<br />\nThe maidens went, consoled, away:<br />\nThe best of kings, that very day,<br />\nSummoned his ministers of state<br />\nAbout their marriage to debate.<br />\nSince then, because the Wind-God bent<br />\nThe damsels\' forms for punishment,<br />\nThat royal town is known to fame<br />\nBy Kanyákubja\'s174borrowed name.<br />\n174That is, the City of the Bent Virgins, the modern Kanauj or Canouge.<br />\nCanto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.<br />\n155<br />\nThere lived a sage called Chúli then,<br />\nDevoutest of the sons of men;<br />\nHis days in penance rites he spent,<br />\nA glorious saint, most continent.<br />\nTo him absorbed in tasks austere<br />\nThe child of Urmilá drew near,<br />\nSweet Somadá, the heavenly maid<br />\nAnd lent the saint her pious aid.<br />\nLong time near him the maiden spent,<br />\nAnd served him meek and reverent,<br />\nTill the great hermit, pleased with her,<br />\nThus spoke unto his minister:<br />\n“Grateful am I for all thy care:<br />\nBlest maiden, speak, thy wish declare.”<br />\nThe sweet-voiced nymph rejoiced to see<br />\nThe favour of the devotee,<br />\nAnd to that eloquent old man,<br />\nMost eloquent she thus began:<br />\n“Thou hast, by heavenly grace sustained,<br />\nClose union with the Godhead gained.<br />\nI long, O Saint, to see a son<br />\nBy force of holy penance won.<br />\nUnwed, a maiden life I live:<br />\nA son to me, thy suppliant, give.”<br />\nThe saint with favour heard her prayer,<br />\nAnd gave a son exceeding fair.<br />\nHim, Chúli\'s spiritual child,<br />\nHis mother Brahmadatta175styled.<br />\nKing Brahmadatta, rich and great,<br />\nIn Kámpilí maintained his state,<br />\nRuling, like Indra in his bliss,<br />\nHis fortunate metropolis.<br />\n175Literally, Given by Brahma or devout contemplation.<br />\n156<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nKing Kuśanábha planned that he<br />\nHis hundred daughters\' lord should be.<br />\nTo him, obedient to his call,<br />\nThe happy monarch gave them all.<br />\nLike Indra then he took the hand<br />\nOf every maiden of the band.<br />\nSoon as the hand of each young maid<br />\nIn Brahmadatta\'s palm was laid,<br />\nDeformity and cares away,<br />\nShe shone in beauty bright and gay.<br />\nTheir freedom from the Wind-God\'s might<br />\nSaw Kuśanábha with delight.<br />\nEach glance that on their forms he threw<br />\nFilled him with raptures ever new.<br />\nThen when the rites were all complete,<br />\nWith highest marks of honour meet<br />\nThe bridegroom with his brides he sent<br />\nTo his great seat of government.<br />\nThe nymph received with pleasant speech<br />\nHer daughters; and, embracing each,<br />\nUpon their forms she fondly gazed,<br />\nAnd royal Kuśanábha praised.<br />\n[048]<br />\nCanto XXXV. Visvámitra\'s Lineage.<br />\nCanto XXXV. Visvámitra\'s Lineage.<br />\n157<br />\n“The rites were o\'er, the maids were wed,<br />\nThe bridegroom to his home was sped.<br />\nThe sonless monarch bade prepare<br />\nA sacrifice to gain an heir.<br />\nThen Kuśa, Brahmá\'s son, appeared,<br />\nAnd thus King Kuśanábha cheered:<br />\n“Thou shalt, my child, obtain a son<br />\nLike thine own self, O holy one.<br />\nThrough him for ever, Gádhi named,<br />\nShalt thou in all the worlds be famed.”<br />\nHe spoke, and vanished from the sight<br />\nTo Brahmá\'s world of endless light.<br />\nTime fled, and, as the saint foretold,<br />\nGádhi was born, the holy-souled.<br />\nMy sire was he; through him I trace<br />\nMy line from royal Kuśa\'s race.<br />\nMy sister—elder-born was she—<br />\nThe pure and good Satyavatí,176<br />\nWas to the great Richíka wed.<br />\nStill faithful to her husband dead,<br />\nShe followed him, most noble dame,<br />\nAnd, raised to heaven in human frame,<br />\nA pure celestial stream became.<br />\nDown from Himálaya\'s snowy height,<br />\nIn floods for ever fair and bright,<br />\nMy sister\'s holy waves are hurled<br />\nTo purify and glad the world.<br />\nNow on Himálaya\'s side I dwell<br />\nBecause I love my sister well.<br />\n176Now called Kośí (Cosy) corrupted from Kauśikí, daughter of Kuś]a.<br />\n“This is one of those personifications of rivers so frequent in the Grecian<br />\nmythology, but in the similar myths is seen the impress of the genius of each<br />\npeople, austere and profoundly religious in India, graceful and devoted to the<br />\nworship of external beauty in Greece.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\n158<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nShe, for her faith and truth renowned,<br />\nMost loving to her husband found,<br />\nHigh-fated, firm in each pure vow,<br />\nIs queen of all the rivers now.<br />\nBound by a vow I left her side<br />\nAnd to the Perfect convent hied.<br />\nThere, by the aid \'twas thine to lend,<br />\nMade perfect, all my labours end.<br />\nThus, mighty Prince, I now have told<br />\nMy race and lineage, high and old,<br />\nAnd local tales of long ago<br />\nWhich thou, O Ráma, fain wouldst know.<br />\nAs I have sate rehearsing thus<br />\nThe midnight hour is come on us.<br />\nNow, Ráma, sleep, that nothing may<br />\nOur journey of to-morrow stay.<br />\nNo leaf on any tree is stirred:<br />\nHushed in repose are beast and bird:<br />\nWhere\'er you turn, on every side,<br />\nDense shades of night the landscape hide,<br />\nThe light of eve is fled: the skies,<br />\nThick-studded with their host of eyes,<br />\nSeem a star-forest overhead,<br />\nWhere signs and constellations spread.<br />\nNow rises, with his pure cold ray,<br />\nThe moon that drives the shades away,<br />\nAnd with his gentle influence brings<br />\nJoy to the hearts of living things.<br />\nNow, stealing from their lairs, appear<br />\nThe beasts to whom the night is dear.<br />\nNow spirits walk, and every power<br />\nThat revels in the midnight hour.”<br />\nCanto XXXVI. The Birth Of Gangá.<br />\n159<br />\nThe mighty hermit\'s tale was o\'er,<br />\nHe closed his lips and spoke no more.<br />\nThe holy men on every side,<br />\n“Well done! well done,” with reverence cried;<br />\n“The mighty men of Kuśa\'s seed<br />\nWere ever famed for righteous deed.<br />\nLike Brahmá\'s self in glory shine<br />\nThe high-souled lords of Kuśa\'s line,<br />\nAnd thy great name is sounded most,<br />\nO Saint, amid the noble host.<br />\nAnd thy dear sister—fairest she<br />\nOf streams, the high-born Kauśikí—<br />\nDiffusing virtue where she flows,<br />\nNew splendour on thy lineage throws.”<br />\nThus by the chief of saints addressed<br />\nThe son of Gádhi turned to rest;<br />\nSo, when his daily course is done,<br />\nSinks to his rest the beaming sun.<br />\nRáma with Lakshmaṇ, somewhat stirred<br />\nTo marvel by the tales they heard,<br />\nTurned also to his couch, to close<br />\nHis eyelids in desired repose.<br />\nCanto XXXVI. The Birth Of Gangá.<br />\nThe hours of night now waning fast<br />\nOn Śona\'s pleasant shore they passed.<br />\nThen, when the dawn began to break,<br />\nTo Ráma thus the hermit spake:<br />\n“The light of dawn is breaking clear,<br />\nThe hour of morning rites is near.<br />\n160<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nRise, Ráma, rise, dear son, I pray,<br />\nAnd make thee ready for the way.”<br />\nThen Ráma rose, and finished all<br />\nHis duties at the hermit\'s call,<br />\nPrepared with joy the road to take,<br />\nAnd thus again in question spake:<br />\n“Here fair and deep the Śona flows,<br />\nAnd many an isle its bosom shows:<br />\nWhat way, O Saint, will lead us o\'er<br />\nAnd land us on the farther shore?”<br />\nThe saint replied: “The way I choose<br />\nIs that which pious hermits use.”<br />\n[049]<br />\nFor many a league they journeyed on<br />\nTill, when the sun of mid-day shone,<br />\nThe hermit-haunted flood was seen<br />\nOf Jáhnaví,177the Rivers\' Queen.<br />\nSoon as the holy stream they viewed,<br />\nThronged with a white-winged multitude<br />\nOf sárases178and swans,179delight<br />\nPossessed them at the lovely sight;<br />\nAnd then prepared the hermit band<br />\nTo halt upon that holy strand.<br />\nThey bathed as Scripture bids, and paid<br />\nOblations due to God and shade.<br />\nTo Fire they burnt the offerings meet,<br />\nAnd sipped the oil, like Amrit sweet.<br />\nThen pure and pleased they sate around<br />\nSaint Viśvámitra on the ground.<br />\nThe holy men of lesser note,<br />\n177One of the names of the Ganges considered as the daughter of Jahnu. See<br />\nCanto XLIV.<br />\n178The Indian Crane.<br />\n179Or, rather, geese.<br />\nCanto XXXVI. The Birth Of Gangá.<br />\n161<br />\nIn due degree, sate more remote,<br />\nWhile Raghu\'s sons took nearer place<br />\nBy virtue of their rank and race.<br />\nThen Ráma said: “O Saint, I yearn<br />\nThe three-pathed Gangá\'s tale to learn.”<br />\nThus urged, the sage recounted both<br />\nThe birth of Gangá and her growth:<br />\n“The mighty hill with metals stored,<br />\nHimálaya, is the mountains\' lord,<br />\nThe father of a lovely pair<br />\nOf daughters fairest of the fair:<br />\nTheir mother, offspring of the will<br />\nOf Meru, everlasting hill,<br />\nMená, Himálaya\'s darling, graced<br />\nWith beauty of her dainty waist.<br />\nGangá was elder-born: then came<br />\nThe fair one known by Umá\'s name.<br />\nThen all the Gods of heaven, in need<br />\nOf Gangá\'s help their vows to speed,<br />\nTo great Himálaya came and prayed<br />\nThe mountain King to yield the maid.<br />\nHe, not regardless of the weal<br />\nOf the three worlds, with holy zeal<br />\nHis daughter to the Immortals gave,<br />\nGangá whose waters cleanse and save,<br />\nWho roams at pleasure, fair and free,<br />\nPurging all sinners, to the sea.<br />\nThe three-pathed Gangá thus obtained,<br />\nThe Gods their heavenly homes regained.<br />\nLong time the sister Umá passed<br />\nIn vows austere and rigid fast,<br />\nAnd the king gave the devotee<br />\n162<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nImmortal Rudra\'s180bride to be,<br />\nMatching with that unequalled Lord<br />\nHis Umá through the worlds adored.<br />\nSo now a glorious station fills<br />\nEach daughter of the King of Hills:<br />\nOne honoured as the noblest stream,<br />\nOne mid the Goddesses supreme.<br />\nThus Gangá, King Himálaya\'s child,<br />\nThe heavenly river, undefiled,<br />\nRose bearing with her to the sky<br />\nHer waves that bless and purify.”<br />\n[I am compelled to omit Cantos XXXVII and XXXVIII, THE<br />\nGLORY OF UMÁ, and THE BIRTH OF KÁRTIKEYA, as both in subject<br />\nand language offensive to modern taste. They will be found in<br />\nSchlegel\'s Latin translation.]<br />\nCanto XXXIX. The Sons Of Sagar.<br />\nThe saint in accents sweet and clear<br />\nThus told his tale for Ráma\'s ear,<br />\nAnd thus anew the holy man<br />\nA legend to the prince began:<br />\n“There reigned a pious monarch o\'er<br />\nAyodhyá in the days of yore:<br />\nSagar his name: no child had he,<br />\nAnd children much he longed to see.<br />\nHis honoured consort, fair of face,<br />\nSprang from Vidarbha\'s royal race,<br />\nKeśini, famed from early youth<br />\n180A name of the God Śiva.<br />\nCanto XXXIX. The Sons Of Sagar.<br />\n163<br />\nFor piety and love of truth.<br />\nAríshṭanemi\'s daughter fair,<br />\nWith whom no maiden might compare<br />\nIn beauty, though the earth is wide,<br />\nSumati, was his second bride.<br />\nWith his two queens afar he went,<br />\nAnd weary days in penance spent,<br />\nFervent, upon Himálaya\'s hill<br />\nWhere springs the stream called Bhrigu\' rill.<br />\nNor did he fail that saint to please<br />\nWith his devout austerities.<br />\nAnd, when a hundred years had fled,<br />\nThus the most truthful Bhrigu said:<br />\n“From thee, O Sagar, blameless King,<br />\nA mighty host of sons shall spring,<br />\nAnd thou shalt win a glorious name<br />\nWhich none, O Chief, but thou shall claim.<br />\nOne of thy queens a son shall bear,<br />\nMaintainer of thy race and heir;<br />\nAnd of the other there shall be<br />\nSons sixty thousand born to thee.”<br />\nThus as he spake, with one accord,<br />\nTo win the grace of that high lord,<br />\nThe queens, with palms together laid,<br />\nIn humble supplication prayed:<br />\n“Which queen, O Bráhman, of the pair,<br />\nThe many, or the one shall bear?<br />\nMost eager, Lord, are we to know,<br />\nAnd as thou sayest be it so.”<br />\n[050]<br />\nWith his sweet speech the saint replied:<br />\n“Yourselves, O Queens, the choice decide.<br />\nYour own discretion freely use<br />\nWhich shall the one or many choose:<br />\n164<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOne shall the race and name uphold,<br />\nThe host be famous, strong, and bold.<br />\nWhich will have which?” Then Keśini<br />\nThe mother of one heir would be.<br />\nSumati, sister of the king181<br />\nOf all the birds that ply the wing,<br />\nTo that illustrious Bráhman sued<br />\nThat she might bear the multitude<br />\nWhose fame throughout the world should sound<br />\nFor mighty enterprise renowned.<br />\nAround the saint the monarch went,<br />\nBowing his head, most reverent.<br />\nThen with his wives, with willing feet,<br />\nResought his own imperial seat.<br />\nTime passed. The elder consort bare<br />\nA son called Asamanj, the heir.<br />\nThen Sumati, the younger, gave<br />\nBirth to a gourd,182O hero brave,<br />\nWhose rind, when burst and cleft in two,<br />\nGave sixty thousand babes to view.<br />\nAll these with care the nurses laid<br />\nIn jars of oil; and there they stayed,<br />\nTill, youthful age and strength complete,<br />\nForth speeding from each dark retreat,<br />\nAll peers in valour, years, and might,<br />\nThe sixty thousand came to light.<br />\nPrince Asamanj, brought up with care,<br />\nScourge of his foes, was made the heir.<br />\nBut liegemen\'s boys he used to cast<br />\nTo Sarjú\'s waves that hurried past,<br />\nLaughing the while in cruel glee<br />\n181Garuḍa.<br />\n182Ikshváku, the name of a king of Ayodhyá who is regarded as the founder of<br />\nthe Solar race, means also a gourd. Hence, perhaps, the myth.<br />\nCanto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.<br />\n165<br />\nTheir dying agonies to see.<br />\nThis wicked prince who aye withstood<br />\nThe counsel of the wise and good,<br />\nWho plagued the people in his hate,<br />\nHis father banished from the state.<br />\nHis son, kind-spoken, brave, and tall,<br />\nWas Anśumán, beloved of all.<br />\nLong years flew by. The king decreed<br />\nTo slay a sacrificial steed.<br />\nConsulting with his priestly band<br />\nHe vowed the rite his soul had planned,<br />\nAnd, Veda skilled, by their advice<br />\nMade ready for the sacrifice.<br />\nCanto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.<br />\nThe hermit ceased: the tale was done:<br />\nThen in a transport Raghu\'s son<br />\nAgain addressed the ancient sire<br />\nResplendent as a burning fire:<br />\n“O holy man, I fain would hear<br />\nThe tale repeated full and clear<br />\nHow he from whom my sires descend<br />\nBrought the great rite to happy end.”<br />\nThe hermit answered with a smile:<br />\n“Then listen, son of Raghu, while<br />\nMy legendary tale proceeds<br />\nTo tell of high-souled Sagar\'s deeds.<br />\nWithin the spacious plain that lies<br />\nFrom where Himálaya\'s heights arise<br />\n166<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTo where proud Vindhya\'s rival chain<br />\nLooks down upon the subject plain—<br />\nA land the best for rites declared183.<br />\n—<br />\nHis sacrifice the king prepared.<br />\nAnd Anśumán the prince—for so<br />\nSagar advised—with ready bow<br />\nWas borne upon a mighty car<br />\nTo watch the steed who roamed afar.<br />\nBut Indra, monarch of the skies,<br />\nVeiling his form in demon guise,<br />\nCame down upon the appointed day<br />\nAnd drove the victim horse away.<br />\nReft of the steed the priests, distressed,<br />\nThe master of the rite addressed:<br />\n“Upon the sacred day by force<br />\nA robber takes the victim horse.<br />\nHaste, King! now let the thief be slain;<br />\nBring thou the charger back again:<br />\nThe sacred rite prevented thus<br />\nBrings scathe and woe to all of us.<br />\nRise, monarch, and provide with speed<br />\nThat naught its happy course impede.”<br />\n183“The region here spoken of is called in the Laws of Manu Madhyadeśa or<br />\nthe middle region. ‘The region situated between the Himálaya and the Vindhya<br />\nMountains … is called Madhyadeśa, or the middle region; the space comprised<br />\nbetween these two mountains from the eastern to the western sea is called by<br />\nsages Áryávartta, the seat of honourable men.’ (MANU{FNS, II, 21, 22.) The<br />\nSanskrit Indians called themselves Áryans, which means honourable, noble,<br />\nto distinguish themselves from the surrounding nations of different origin.”<br />\nGORRESIO{FNS<br />\nCanto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.<br />\n167<br />\nKing Sagar in his crowded court<br />\nGave ear unto the priests\' report.<br />\nHe summoned straightway to his side<br />\nHis sixty thousand sons, and cried:<br />\n“Brave sons of mine, I knew not how<br />\nThese demons are so mighty now:<br />\nThe priests began the rite so well<br />\nAll sanctified with prayer and spell.<br />\nIf in the depths of earth he hide,<br />\nOr lurk beneath the ocean\'s tide,<br />\n[051]<br />\nPursue, dear sons, the robber\'s track;<br />\nSlay him and bring the charger back.<br />\nThe whole of this broad earth explore,<br />\nSea-garlanded, from shore to shore:<br />\nYea, dig her up with might and main<br />\nUntil you see the horse again.<br />\nDeep let your searching labour reach,<br />\nA league in depth dug out by each.<br />\nThe robber of our horse pursue,<br />\nAnd please your sire who orders you.<br />\nMy grandson, I, this priestly train,<br />\nTill the steed comes, will here remain.”<br />\nTheir eager hearts with transport burned<br />\nAs to their task the heroes turned.<br />\nObedient to their father, they<br />\nThrough earth\'s recesses forced their way.<br />\nWith iron arms\' unflinching toil<br />\nEach dug a league beneath the soil.<br />\nEarth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain,<br />\nAs emulous they plied amain<br />\nSharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar,<br />\nHard as the bolts of Indra are.<br />\nThen loud the horrid clamour rose<br />\n168<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOf monsters dying neath their blows,<br />\nGiant and demon, fiend and snake,<br />\nThat in earth\'s core their dwelling make.<br />\nThey dug, in ire that naught could stay,<br />\nThrough sixty thousand leagues their way,<br />\nCleaving the earth with matchless strength<br />\nTill hell itself they reached at length.<br />\nThus digging searched they Jambudvip184<br />\nWith all its hills and mountains steep.<br />\nThen a great fear began to shake<br />\nThe heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake,<br />\nAnd all distressed in spirit went<br />\nBefore the Sire Omnipotent.<br />\nWith signs of woe in every face<br />\nThey sought the mighty Father\'s grace,<br />\nAnd trembling still and ill at ease<br />\nAddressed their Lord in words like these:<br />\n“The sons of Sagar, Sire benign,<br />\nPierce the whole earth with mine on mine,<br />\nAnd as their ruthless work they ply<br />\nInnumerable creatures die.<br />\n“This is the thief,” the princes say,<br />\n“Who stole our victim steed away.<br />\nThis marred the rite, and caused us ill,<br />\nAnd so their guiltless blood they spill.”<br />\nCanto XLI. Kapil.<br />\n184Said to be so called from the Jambu, or Rose Apple, abounding in it, and<br />\nsignifyingaccordingtothePuránasthecentraldivisionoftheworld, theknown<br />\nworld.<br />\nCanto XLI. Kapil.<br />\n169<br />\nThe father lent a gracious ear<br />\nAnd listened to their tale of fear,<br />\nAnd kindly to the Gods replied<br />\nWhom woe and death had terrified:<br />\n“The wisest Vásudeva,185who<br />\nThe Immortals\' foe, fierce Madhu, slew,<br />\nRegards broad Earth with love and pride<br />\nAnd guards, in Kapil\'s form, his bride.186<br />\nHis kindled wrath will quickly fall<br />\nOn the king\'s sons and burn them all.<br />\nThis cleaving of the earth his eye<br />\nForesaw in ages long gone by:<br />\nHe knew with prescient soul the fate<br />\nThat Sagar\'s children should await.”<br />\nThe Three-and-thirty,187freed from fear,<br />\nSought their bright homes with hopeful cheer.<br />\nStill rose the great tempestuous sound<br />\nAs Sagar\'s children pierced the ground.<br />\nWhen thus the whole broad earth was cleft,<br />\nAnd not a spot unsearched was left,<br />\n185Here used as a name of Vishṇu.<br />\n186Kings are called the husbands of their kingdoms or of the earth; “She and<br />\nhis kingdom were his only brides.” Raghuvaṅśa.<br />\n“Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate<br />\nA double marriage, \'twixt my crown and me,<br />\nAnd then between me and my married wife.”<br />\nKing Richard II. Act V. Sc. I.<br />\n187The thirty-three Gods are said in the Aitareya Bráhmaṇa, Book I. ch. II. 10.<br />\nto be the eight Vasus, the eleven Rudras, the twelve Ádityas, Prajápati, either<br />\nBrahmá or Daksha, and Vashatkára or deified oblation. This must have been<br />\nthe actual number at the beginning of the Vedic religion gradually increased<br />\nby successive mythical and religious creations till the Indian Pantheon was<br />\ncrowdedwithabstractionsofeverykind. Throughthereverencewithwhichthe<br />\nwords of the Veda were regarded, the immense host of multiplied divinities, in<br />\nlater times, still bore the name of the Thirty-three Gods.<br />\n170<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBack to their home the princes sped,<br />\nAnd thus unto their father said:<br />\n“We searched the earth from side to side,<br />\nWhile countless hosts of creatures died.<br />\nOur conquering feet in triumph trod<br />\nOn snake and demon, fiend and God;<br />\nBut yet we failed, with all our toil,<br />\nTo find the robber and the spoil.<br />\nWhat can we more? If more we can,<br />\nDevise, O King, and tell thy plan.”<br />\nHis children\'s speech King Sagar heard,<br />\nAnd answered thus, to anger stirred:<br />\n“Dig on, and ne\'er your labour stay<br />\nTill through earth\'s depths you force your way.<br />\nThen smite the robber dead, and bring<br />\nThe charger back with triumphing.”<br />\n[052]<br />\nThe sixty thousand chiefs obeyed:<br />\nDeep through the earth their way they made.<br />\nDeep as they dug and deeper yet<br />\nThe immortal elephant they met,<br />\nFamed Vírúpáksha188vast of size,<br />\nUpon whose head the broad earth lies:<br />\nThe mighty beast who earth sustains<br />\n188“Oneoftheelephantswhich, accordingtoanancientbeliefpopularinIndia,<br />\nsupported the earth with their enormous backs; when one of these elephants<br />\nshook his wearied head the earth trembled with its woods and hills. An idea, or<br />\nrather a mythical fancy, similar to this, but reduced to proportions less grand,<br />\nis found in Virgil when he speaks of Enceladus buried under Ætna:”<br />\n“adi semiustum fulmine corpus<br />\nUrgeri mole hac, ingentemque insuper Ætnam<br />\nImpositam, ruptis flammam expirare caminis;<br />\nEt fessum quoties mutat latus, intre mere omnem<br />\niam, et cœlum subtexere fumo.”<br />\nÆneid. Lib. III. GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\nCanto XLI. Kapil.<br />\n171<br />\nWith shaggy hills and wooded plains.<br />\nWhen, with the changing moon, distressed,<br />\nAnd longing for a moment\'s rest,<br />\nHis mighty head the monster shakes,<br />\nEarth to the bottom reels and quakes.<br />\nAround that warder strong and vast<br />\nWith reverential steps they passed.<br />\nNor, when the honour due was paid,<br />\nTheir downward search through earth delayed.<br />\nBut turning from the east aside<br />\nSouthward again their task they plied.<br />\nThere Mahápadma held his place,<br />\nThe best of all his mighty race,<br />\nLike some huge hill, of monstrous girth,<br />\nUpholding on his head the earth.<br />\nWhen the vast beast the princes saw,<br />\nThey marvelled and were filled with awe.<br />\nThe sons of high-souled Sagar round<br />\nThat elephant in reverence wound.<br />\nThen in the western region they<br />\nWith might unwearied cleft their way.<br />\nThere saw they with astonisht eyes<br />\nSaumanas, beast of mountain size.<br />\nRound him with circling steps they went<br />\nWith greetings kind and reverent.<br />\n172<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOn, on—no thought of rest or stay—<br />\nThey reached the seat of Soma\'s sway.<br />\nThere saw they Bhadra, white as snow,<br />\nWith lucky marks that fortune show,<br />\nBearing the earth upon his head.<br />\nRound him they paced with solemn tread,<br />\nAnd honoured him with greetings kind,<br />\nThen downward yet their way they mined.<br />\nThey gained the tract \'twixt east and north<br />\nWhose fame is ever blazoned forth,189<br />\nAnd by a storm of rage impelled,<br />\nDigging through earth their course they held.<br />\nThen all the princes, lofty-souled,<br />\nOf wondrous vigour, strong and bold,<br />\nSaw Vásudeva190standing there<br />\nIn Kapil\'s form he loved to wear,<br />\nAnd near the everlasting God<br />\nThe victim charger cropped the sod.<br />\nThey saw with joy and eager eyes<br />\nThe fancied robber and the prize,<br />\nAnd on him rushed the furious band<br />\nCrying aloud, Stand, villain! stand!<br />\n“Avaunt! avaunt!” great Kapil cried,<br />\nHis bosom flusht with passion\'s tide;<br />\n189“The Devas and Asuras (Gods and Titans) fought in the east, the south, the<br />\nwest, and the north, and the Devas were defeated by the Asuras in all these<br />\ndirections. They then fought in the north-eastern direction; there the Devas did<br />\nnot sustain defeat. This direction is aparájitá, i.e. unconquerable. Thence one<br />\nshould do work in this direction, and have it done there; for such a one (alone)<br />\nis able to clear off his debts.” HAUG\'S{FNS Aitareya Bráhmanam, Vol. II, p.<br />\n33.<br />\nThe debts here spoken of are a man\'s religious obligations to the Gods, the<br />\nPitaras or Manes, and men.<br />\n190Vishṇu.<br />\nCanto XLII. Sagar\'s Sacrifice.<br />\n173<br />\nThen by his might that proud array<br />\nAll scorcht to heaps of ashes lay.191<br />\nCanto XLII. Sagar\'s Sacrifice.<br />\nThen to the prince his grandson, bright<br />\nWith his own fame\'s unborrowed light,<br />\nKing Sagar thus began to say,<br />\nMarvelling at his sons\' delay:<br />\n“Thou art a warrior skilled and bold,<br />\nMatch for the mighty men of old.<br />\nNow follow on thine uncles\' course<br />\nAnd track the robber of the horse.<br />\n[053]<br />\nTo guard thee take thy sword and bow,<br />\nfor huge and strong are beasts below.<br />\nThere to the reverend reverence pay,<br />\nAnd kill the foes who check thy way;<br />\nThen turn successful home and see<br />\nMy sacrifice complete through thee.”<br />\n191“It appears to me that this mythical story has reference to the volcanic<br />\nphenomena of nature. Kapil may very possibly be that hidden fiery force<br />\nwhich suddenly unprisons itself and bursts forth in volcanic effects. Kapil is,<br />\nmoreover, one of the names of Agni the God of Fire.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\n174<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nObedient to the high-souled lord<br />\nGrasped Anśumán his bow and sword,<br />\nAnd hurried forth the way to trace<br />\nWith youth and valour\'s eager pace.<br />\nOn sped he by the path he found<br />\nDug by his uncles underground.<br />\nThe warder elephant he saw<br />\nWhose size and strength pass Nature\'s law,<br />\nWho bears the world\'s tremendous weight,<br />\nWhom God, fiend, giant venerate,<br />\nBird, serpent, and each flitting shade,<br />\nTo him the honour meet he paid<br />\nWith circling steps and greeting due,<br />\nAnd further prayed him, if he knew,<br />\nTo tell him of his uncles\' weal,<br />\nAnd who had dared the horse to steal.<br />\nTo him in war and council tried<br />\nThe warder elephant replied:<br />\n“Thou, son of Asamanj, shalt lead<br />\nIn triumph back the rescued steed.”<br />\nAs to each warder beast he came<br />\nAnd questioned all, his words the same,<br />\nThe honoured youth with gentle speech<br />\nDrew eloquent reply from each,<br />\nThat fortune should his steps attend,<br />\nAnd with the horse he home should wend.<br />\nCheered with the grateful answer, he<br />\nPassed on with step more light and free,<br />\nAnd reached with careless heart the place<br />\nWhere lay in ashes Sagar\'s race.<br />\nThen sank the spirit of the chief<br />\nBeneath that shock of sudden grief,<br />\nAnd with a bitter cry of woe<br />\nCanto XLII. Sagar\'s Sacrifice.<br />\n175<br />\nHe mourned his kinsmen fallen so.<br />\nHe saw, weighed down by woe and care,<br />\nThe victim charger roaming there.<br />\nYet would the pious chieftain fain<br />\nOblations offer to the slain:<br />\nBut, needing water for the rite,<br />\nHe looked and there was none in sight<br />\nHis quick eye searching all around<br />\nThe uncle of his kinsmen found,<br />\nKing Garuḍ, best beyond compare<br />\nOf birds who wing the fields of air.<br />\nThen thus unto the weeping man<br />\nThe son of Vinatá192began:<br />\n“Grieve not, O hero, for their fall<br />\nWho died a death approved of all.<br />\nOf mighty strength, they met their fate<br />\nBy Kapil\'s hand whom none can mate.<br />\nPour forth for them no earthly wave,<br />\nA holier flood their spirits crave.<br />\nIf, daughter of the Lord of Snow,<br />\nGangá would turn her stream below,<br />\nHer waves that cleanse all mortal stain<br />\nWould wash their ashes pure again.<br />\nYea, when her flood whom all revere<br />\nRolls o\'er the dust that moulders here,<br />\nThe sixty thousand, freed from sin,<br />\nA home in Indra\'s heaven shall win.<br />\nGo, and with ceaseless labour try<br />\nTo draw the Goddess from the sky.<br />\nReturn, and with thee take the steed;<br />\nSo shall thy grandsire\'s rite succeed.”<br />\n192Garuḍ was the son of Kaśyap and Vinatá.<br />\n176<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nPrince Anśumán the strong and brave<br />\nFollowed the rede Suparṇa193gave.<br />\nThe glorious hero took the horse,<br />\nAnd homeward quickly bent his course.<br />\nStraight to the anxious king he hied,<br />\nWhom lustral rites had purified,<br />\nThe mournful story to unfold<br />\nAnd all the king of birds had told.<br />\nThe tale of woe the monarch heard,<br />\nNor longer was the rite deferred:<br />\nWith care and just observance he<br />\nAccomplished all, as texts decree.<br />\nThe rites performed, with brighter fame,<br />\nMighty in counsel, home he came.<br />\nHe longed to bring the river down,<br />\nBut found no plan his wish to crown.<br />\nHe pondered long with anxious thought<br />\nBut saw no way to what he sought.<br />\nThus thirty thousand years he spent,<br />\nAnd then to heaven the monarch went.<br />\nCanto XLIII. Bhagírath.<br />\nWhen Sagar thus had bowed to fate,<br />\nThe lords and commons of the state<br />\nApproved with ready heart and will<br />\nPrince Anśumán his throne to fill.<br />\nHe ruled, a mighty king, unblamed,<br />\nSire of Dilípa justly famed.<br />\n193Garuḍ.<br />\nCanto XLIII. Bhagírath.<br />\n177<br />\nTo him, his child and worthy heir,<br />\nThe king resigned his kingdom\'s care,<br />\nAnd on Himálaya\'s pleasant side<br />\nHis task austere of penance plied.<br />\nBright as a God in clear renown<br />\nHe planned to bring pure Gangá down.<br />\nThere on his fruitless hope intent<br />\nTwice sixteen thousand years he spent,<br />\nAnd in the grove of hermits stayed<br />\nTill bliss in heaven his rites repaid.<br />\nDilípa then, the good and great,<br />\nSoon as he learnt his kinsmen\'s fate,<br />\nBowed down by woe, with troubled mind,<br />\n[054]<br />\nPondering long no cure could find.<br />\n“How can I bring,” the mourner sighed,<br />\n“To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide?<br />\nHow can I give them rest, and save<br />\nTheir spirits with the offered wave?”<br />\nLong with this thought his bosom skilled<br />\nIn holy discipline was filled.<br />\nA son was born, Bhagírath named,<br />\nAbove all men for virtue famed.<br />\nDilípa many a rite ordained,<br />\nAnd thirty thousand seasons reigned.<br />\nBut when no hope the king could see<br />\nHis kinsmen from their woe to free,<br />\nThe lord of men, by sickness tried,<br />\nObeyed the law of fate, and died;<br />\nHe left the kingdom to his son,<br />\nAnd gained the heaven his deeds had won.<br />\nThe good Bhagírath, royal sage,<br />\nHad no fair son to cheer his age.<br />\nHe, great in glory, pure in will,<br />\nLonging for sons was childless still.<br />\n178<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThen on one wish, one thought intent,<br />\nPlanning the heavenly stream\'s descent,<br />\nLeaving his ministers the care<br />\nAnd burden of his state to bear,<br />\nDwelling in far Gokarna194he<br />\nEngaged in long austerity.<br />\nWith senses checked, with arms upraised,<br />\nFive fires195around and o\'er him blazed.<br />\nEach weary month the hermit passed<br />\nBreaking but once his awful fast.<br />\nIn winter\'s chill the brook his bed,<br />\nIn rain, the clouds to screen his head.<br />\nThousands of years he thus endured<br />\nTill Brahmá\'s favour was assured,<br />\nAnd the high Lord of living things<br />\nLooked kindly on his sufferings.<br />\nWith trooping Gods the Sire came near<br />\nThe king who plied his task austere:<br />\n“Blest Monarch, of a glorious race,<br />\nThy fervent rites have won my grace.<br />\nWell hast thou wrought thine awful task:<br />\nSome boon in turn, O Hermit, ask.”<br />\nBhagírath, rich in glory\'s light,<br />\nThe hero with the arm of might,<br />\nThus to the Lord of earth and sky<br />\nRaised suppliant hands and made reply:<br />\n“If the great God his favour deigns,<br />\nAnd my long toil its fruit obtains,<br />\nLet Sagar\'s sons receive from me<br />\nLibations that they long to see.<br />\nLet Gangá with her holy wave<br />\n194A famous and venerated region near the Malabar coast.<br />\n195That is four fires and the sun.<br />\nCanto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.<br />\n179<br />\nThe ashes of the heroes lave,<br />\nThat so my kinsmen may ascend<br />\nTo heavenly bliss that ne\'er shall end.<br />\nAnd give, I pray, O God, a son,<br />\nNor let my house be all undone.<br />\nSire of the worlds! be this the grace<br />\nBestowed upon Ikshváku\'s race.”<br />\nThe Sire, when thus the king had prayed,<br />\nIn sweet kind words his answer made.<br />\n“High, high thy thought and wishes are,<br />\nBhagírath of the mighty car!<br />\nIkshváku\'s line is blest in thee,<br />\nAnd as thou prayest it shall be.<br />\nGangá, whose waves in Swarga196flow,<br />\nIs daughter of the Lord of Snow.<br />\nWin Śiva that his aid be lent<br />\nTo hold her in her mid descent,<br />\nFor earth alone will never bear<br />\nThose torrents hurled from upper air;<br />\nAnd none may hold her weight but He,<br />\nThe Trident wielding deity.”<br />\nThus having said, the Lord supreme<br />\nAddressed him to the heavenly stream;<br />\nAnd then with Gods and Maruts197went<br />\nTo heaven above the firmament.<br />\nCanto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.<br />\n196Heaven.<br />\n197Wind-Gods.<br />\n180<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe Lord of life the skies regained:<br />\nThe fervent king a year remained<br />\nWith arms upraised, refusing rest<br />\nWhile with one toe the earth he pressed,<br />\nStill as a post, with sleepless eye,<br />\nThe air his food, his roof the sky.<br />\nThe year had past. Then Umá\'s lord,198<br />\nKing of creation, world adored,<br />\nThus spoke to great Bhagírath: “I,<br />\nWell pleased thy wish will gratify,<br />\nAnd on my head her waves shall fling<br />\nThe daughter of the Mountains\' King!”<br />\nHe stood upon the lofty crest<br />\nThat crowns the Lord of Snow,<br />\nAnd bade the river of the Blest<br />\nDescend on earth below.<br />\nHimálaya\'s child, adored of all,<br />\nThe haughty mandate heard,<br />\nAnd her proud bosom, at the call,<br />\nWith furious wrath was stirred.<br />\nDown from her channel in the skies<br />\nWith awful might she sped<br />\nWith a giant\'s rush, in a giant\'s size,<br />\nOn Śiva\'s holy head.<br />\n“He calls me,” in her wrath she cried,<br />\n“And all my flood shall sweep<br />\nAnd whirl him in its whelming tide<br />\nTo hell\'s profoundest deep.”<br />\nHe held the river on his head,<br />\nAnd kept her wandering, where,<br />\nDense as Himálaya\'s woods, were spread<br />\nThe tangles of his hair.<br />\n[055]<br />\n198Śiva.<br />\nCanto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.<br />\n181<br />\nNo way to earth she found, ashamed,<br />\nThough long and sore she strove,<br />\nCondemned, until her pride were tamed,<br />\nAmid his locks to rove.<br />\nThere, many lengthening seasons through,<br />\nThe wildered river ran:<br />\nBhagírath saw it, and anew<br />\nHis penance dire began.<br />\nThen Śiva, for the hermit\'s sake,<br />\nBade her long wanderings end,<br />\nAnd sinking into Vindu\'s lake<br />\nHer weary waves descend.<br />\nFrom Gangá, by the God set free,<br />\nSeven noble rivers came;<br />\nHládiní, Pávaní, and she<br />\nCalled Naliní by name:<br />\nThese rolled their lucid waves along<br />\nAnd sought the eastern side.<br />\nSuchakshu, Sítá fair and strong,<br />\nAnd Sindhu\'s mighty tide—199<br />\nThese to the region of the west<br />\nWith joyful waters sped:<br />\nThe seventh, the brightest and the best,<br />\nFlowed where Bhagírath led.<br />\nOn Śiva\'s head descending first<br />\nA rest the torrents found:<br />\nThen down in all their might they burst<br />\nAnd roared along the ground.<br />\nOn countless glittering scales the beam<br />\nOf rosy morning flashed,<br />\n199The lake Vindu does not exist. Of the seven rivers here mentioned two only,<br />\nthe Ganges and the Sindhu or Indus, are known to geographers. Hládiní means<br />\nthe Gladdener, Pávaní the Purifier, Naliní the Lotus-Clad, and Suchakshu the<br />\nFair-eyed.<br />\n182<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWhere fish and dolphins through the stream<br />\nFallen and falling dashed.<br />\nThen bards who chant celestial lays<br />\nAnd nymphs of heavenly birth<br />\nFlocked round upon that flood to gaze<br />\nThat streamed from sky to earth.<br />\nThe Gods themselves from every sphere,<br />\nIncomparably bright,<br />\nBorne in their golden cars drew near<br />\nTo see the wondrous sight.<br />\nThe cloudless sky was all aflame<br />\nWith the light of a hundred suns<br />\nWhere\'er the shining chariots came<br />\nThat bore those holy ones.<br />\nSo flashed the air with crested snakes<br />\nAnd fish of every hue<br />\nAs when the lightning\'s glory breaks<br />\nThrough fields of summer blue.<br />\nAnd white foam-clouds and silver spray<br />\nWere wildly tossed on high,<br />\nLike swans that urge their homeward way<br />\nAcross the autumn sky.<br />\nNow ran the river calm and clear<br />\nWith current strong and deep:<br />\nNow slowly broadened to a mere,<br />\nOr scarcely seemed to creep.<br />\nNow o\'er a length of sandy plain<br />\nHer tranquil course she held;<br />\nNow rose her waves and sank again,<br />\nBy refluent waves repelled.<br />\nSo falling first on Śiva\'s head,<br />\nThence rushing to their earthly bed,<br />\nIn ceaseless fall the waters streamed,<br />\nAnd pure with holy lustre gleamed.<br />\nCanto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.<br />\n183<br />\nThen every spirit, sage, and bard,<br />\nCondemned to earth by sentence hard,<br />\nPressed eagerly around the tide<br />\nThat Śiva\'s touch had sanctified.<br />\nThen they whom heavenly doom had hurled,<br />\nAccursed, to this lower world,<br />\nTouched the pure wave, and freed from sin<br />\nResought the skies and entered in.<br />\nAnd all the world was glad, whereon<br />\nThe glorious water flowed and shone,<br />\nFor sin and stain were banished thence<br />\nBy the sweet river\'s influence.<br />\nFirst, in a car of heavenly frame,<br />\nThe royal saint of deathless name,<br />\nBhagírath, very glorious rode,<br />\nAnd after him fair Gangá flowed.<br />\nGod, sage, and bard, the chief in place<br />\nOf spirits and the Nága race,<br />\nNymph, giant, fiend, in long array<br />\nSped where Bhagírath led the way;<br />\nAnd all the hosts the flood that swim<br />\nFollowed the stream that followed him.<br />\nWhere\'er the great Bhagírath led,<br />\nThere ever glorious Gangá fled,<br />\nThe best of floods, the rivers\' queen,<br />\nWhose waters wash the wicked clean.<br />\nIt chanced that Jahnu, great and good,<br />\nEngaged with holy offerings stood;<br />\nThe river spread her waves around<br />\nFlooding his sacrificial ground.<br />\nThe saint in anger marked her pride,<br />\nAnd at one draught her stream he dried.<br />\nThen God, and sage, and bard, afraid,<br />\n184<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTo noble high-souled Jahnu prayed,<br />\nAnd begged that he would kindly deem<br />\nHis own dear child that holy stream.<br />\nMoved by their suit, he soothed their fears<br />\nAnd loosed her waters from his ears.<br />\nHence Gangá through the world is styled<br />\nBoth Jáhnavi and Jahnu\'s child.<br />\nThen onward still she followed fast,<br />\nAnd reached the great sea bank at last.<br />\nThence deep below her way she made<br />\nTo end those rites so long delayed.<br />\nThe monarch reached the Ocean\'s side,<br />\nAnd still behind him Gangá hied.<br />\nHe sought the depths which open lay<br />\nWhere Sagar\'s sons had dug their way.<br />\nSo leading through earth\'s nether caves<br />\nThe river\'s purifying waves,<br />\n[056]<br />\nOver his kinsmen\'s dust the lord<br />\nHis funeral libation poured.<br />\nSoon as the flood their dust bedewed,<br />\nTheir spirits gained beatitude,<br />\nAnd all in heavenly bodies dressed<br />\nRose to the skies\' eternal rest.<br />\nThen thus to King Bhagírath said<br />\nBrahmá, when, coming at the head<br />\nOf all his bright celestial train,<br />\nHe saw those spirits freed from stain:<br />\n“Well done! great Prince of men, well done!<br />\nThy kinsmen bliss and heaven have won.<br />\nThe sons of Sagar mighty-souled,<br />\nAre with the Blest, as Gods, enrolled,<br />\nLong as the Ocean\'s flood shall stand<br />\nUpon the border of the land,<br />\nCanto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.<br />\n185<br />\nSo long shall Sagar\'s sons remain,<br />\nAnd, godlike, rank in heaven retain.<br />\nGangá thine eldest child shall be,<br />\nCalled from thy name Bhágirathí;<br />\nNamed also—for her waters fell<br />\nFrom heaven and flow through earth and hell—<br />\nTripathagá, stream of the skies,<br />\nBecause three paths she glorifies.<br />\nAnd, mighty King, \'tis given thee now<br />\nTo free thee and perform thy vow.<br />\nNo longer, happy Prince, delay<br />\nDrink-offerings to thy kin to pay.<br />\nFor this the holiest Sagar sighed,<br />\nBut mourned the boon he sought denied.<br />\nThen Anśumán, dear Prince! although<br />\nNo brighter name the world could show,<br />\nStrove long the heavenly flood to gain<br />\nTo visit earth, but strove in vain.<br />\nNor was she by the sages\' peer,<br />\nBlest with all virtues, most austere,<br />\nThy sire Dilípa, hither brought,<br />\nThough with fierce prayers the boon he sought.<br />\nBut thou, O King, earned success,<br />\nAnd won high fame which God will bless.<br />\nThrough thee, O victor of thy foes,<br />\nOn earth this heavenly Gangá flows,<br />\nAnd thou hast gained the meed divine<br />\nThat waits on virtue such as thine.<br />\nNow in her ever holy wave<br />\nThyself, O best of heroes, lave:<br />\nSo shalt thou, pure from every sin,<br />\nThe blessed fruit of merit win.<br />\nNow for thy kin who died of yore<br />\nThe meet libations duly pour.<br />\n186<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAbove the heavens I now ascend:<br />\nDepart, and bliss thy steps attend.”<br />\nThus to the mighty king who broke<br />\nHis foemens\' might, Lord Brahmá spoke,<br />\nAnd with his Gods around him rose<br />\nTo his own heaven of blest repose.<br />\nThe royal sage no more delayed,<br />\nBut, the libation duly paid,<br />\nHome to his regal city hied<br />\nWith water cleansed and purified.<br />\nThere ruled he his ancestral state,<br />\nBest of all men, most fortunate.<br />\nAnd all the people joyed again<br />\nIn good Bhagírath\'s gentle reign.<br />\nRich, prosperous, and blest were they,<br />\nAnd grief and sickness fled away.<br />\nThus, Ráma, I at length have told<br />\nHow Gangá came from heaven of old.<br />\nNow, for the evening passes swift,<br />\nI wish thee each auspicious gift.<br />\nThis story of the flood\'s descent<br />\nWill give—for \'tis most excellent—<br />\nWealth, purity, fame, length of days,<br />\nAnd to the skies its hearers raise”<br />\nCanto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.<br />\nCanto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.<br />\n187<br />\nHigh and more high their wonder rose<br />\nAs the strange story reached its close,<br />\nAnd thus, with Lakshmaṇ, Ráma, best<br />\nOf Raghu\'s sons, the saint addressed:<br />\n“Most wondrous is the tale which thou<br />\nHast told of heavenly Gangá, how<br />\nFrom realms above descending she<br />\nFlowed through the land and filled the sea.<br />\nIn thinking o\'er what thou hast said<br />\nThe night has like a moment fled,<br />\nWhose hours in musing have been spent<br />\nUpon thy words most excellent:<br />\nSo much, O holy Sage, thy lore<br />\nHas charmed us with this tale of yore.”<br />\nDay dawned. The morning rites were done<br />\nAnd the victorious Raghu\'s son<br />\nAddressed the sage in words like these,<br />\nRich in his long austerities:<br />\n“The night is past: the morn is clear;<br />\nTold is the tale so good to hear:<br />\nNow o\'er that river let us go,<br />\nThree-pathed, the best of all that flow.<br />\nThis boat stands ready on the shore<br />\nTo bear the holy hermits o\'er,<br />\nWho of thy coming warned, in haste,<br />\nThe barge upon the bank have placed.”<br />\nAnd Kuśik\'s son approved his speech,<br />\nAnd moving to the sandy beach,<br />\nPlaced in the boat the hermit band,<br />\nAnd reached the river\'s further strand.<br />\nOn the north bank their feet they set,<br />\nAnd greeted all the saints they met.<br />\n188<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOn Gangá\'s shore they lighted down,<br />\nAnd saw Viśálá\'s lovely town.<br />\nThither, the princes by his side,<br />\nThe best of holy hermits hied.<br />\nIt was a town exceeding fair<br />\n[057]<br />\nThat might with heaven itself compare.<br />\nThen, suppliant palm to palm applied,<br />\nFamed Ráma asked his holy guide:<br />\n“O best of hermits, say what race<br />\nOf monarchs rules this lovely place.<br />\nDear master, let my prayer prevail,<br />\nFor much I long to hear the tale.”<br />\nMoved by his words, the saintly man<br />\nViśálá\'s ancient tale began:<br />\n“List, Ráma, list, with closest heed<br />\nThe tale of Indra\'s wondrous deed,<br />\nAnd mark me as I truly tell<br />\nWhat here in ancient days befell.<br />\nEre Krita\'s famous Age200had fled,<br />\nStrong were the sons of Diti201bred;<br />\nAnd Aditi\'s brave children too<br />\nWere very mighty, good, and true.<br />\nThe rival brothers fierce and bold<br />\nWere sons of Kaśyap lofty-souled.<br />\nOf sister mothers born, they vied,<br />\nBrood against brood, in jealous pride.<br />\nOnce, as they say, band met with band,<br />\nAnd, joined in awful council, planned<br />\nTo live, unharmed by age and time,<br />\nImmortal in their youthful prime.<br />\nThen this was, after due debate,<br />\n200The First or Golden Age.<br />\n201Diti and Aditi were wives of Kaśyap, and mothers respectively of Titans<br />\nand Gods.<br />\nCanto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.<br />\n189<br />\nThe counsel of the wise and great,<br />\nTo churn with might the milky sea202<br />\nThe life-bestowing drink to free.<br />\nThis planned, they seized the Serpent King,<br />\nVásuki, for their churning-string,<br />\nAnd Mandar\'s mountain for their pole,<br />\nAnd churned with all their heart and soul.<br />\nAs thus, a thousand seasons through,<br />\nThis way and that the snake they drew,<br />\nBiting the rocks, each tortured head,<br />\nA very deadly venom shed.<br />\nThence, bursting like a mighty flame,<br />\nA pestilential poison came,<br />\nConsuming, as it onward ran,<br />\nThe home of God, and fiend, and man.<br />\nThen all the suppliant Gods in fear<br />\nTo Śankar,203mighty lord, drew near.<br />\nTo Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed,<br />\n“Save us, O save us, Lord!” they prayed.<br />\nThen Vishṇu, bearing shell, and mace,<br />\nAnd discus, showed his radiant face,<br />\nAnd thus addressed in smiling glee<br />\nThe Trident wielding deity:<br />\n“What treasure first the Gods upturn<br />\nFrom troubled Ocean, as they churn,<br />\nShould—for thou art the eldest—be<br />\nConferred, O best of Gods, on thee.<br />\nThen come, and for thy birthright\'s sake,<br />\nThis venom as thy first fruits take.”<br />\nHe spoke, and vanished from their sight,<br />\nWhen Śiva saw their wild affright,<br />\nAnd heard his speech by whom is borne<br />\n202One of the seven seas surrounding as many worlds in concentric rings.<br />\n203Śankar and Rudra are names of Śiva.<br />\n190<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe mighty bow of bending horn,204<br />\nThe poisoned flood at once he quaffed<br />\nAs \'twere the Amrit\'s heavenly draught.<br />\nThen from the Gods departing went<br />\nŚiva, the Lord pre-eminent.<br />\nThe host of Gods and Asurs still<br />\nKept churning with one heart and will.<br />\nBut Mandar\'s mountain, whirling round,<br />\nPierced to the depths below the ground.<br />\nThen Gods and bards in terror flew<br />\nTo him who mighty Madhu slew.<br />\n“Help of all beings! more than all,<br />\nThe Gods on thee for aid may call.<br />\nWard off, O mighty-armed! our fate,<br />\nAnd bear up Mandar\'s threatening weight.”<br />\nThen Vishṇu, as their need was sore,<br />\nThe semblance of a tortoise wore,<br />\nAnd in the bed of Ocean lay<br />\nThe mountain on his back to stay.<br />\nThen he, the soul pervading all,<br />\nWhose locks in radiant tresses fall,<br />\nOne mighty arm extended still,<br />\nAnd grasped the summit of the hill.<br />\nSo ranged among the Immortals, he<br />\nJoined in the churning of the sea.<br />\n204“Śárṅgin, literally carrying a bow of horn, is a constantly recurring name<br />\nof Vishṇu. The Indians also, therefore, knew the art of making bows out of the<br />\nhons of antelopes or wild goats, which Homer ascribes to the Trojans of the<br />\nheroic age.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\nCanto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.<br />\n191<br />\nA thousand years had reached their close,<br />\nWhen calmly from the ocean rose<br />\nThe gentle sage205with staff and can,<br />\nLord of the art of healing man.<br />\nThen as the waters foamed and boiled,<br />\nAs churning still the Immortals toiled,<br />\nOf winning face and lovely frame,<br />\nForth sixty million fair ones came.<br />\nBorn of the foam and water, these<br />\nWere aptly named Apsarases.206<br />\n[058]<br />\nEach had her maids. The tongue would fail—<br />\nSo vast the throng—to count the tale.<br />\nBut when no God or Titan wooed<br />\nA wife from all that multitude,<br />\nRefused by all, they gave their love<br />\nIn common to the Gods above.<br />\nThen from the sea still vext and wild<br />\nRose Surá,207Varuṇ\'s maiden child.<br />\nA fitting match she sought to find:<br />\nBut Diti\'s sons her love declined,<br />\n205Dhanvantari, the physician of the Gods.<br />\n206The poet plays upon the word and fancifully derives it from apsu, the<br />\nlocative case plural of ap, water, and rasa, taste.… The word is probably<br />\nderived from ap, water, and sri, to go, and seems to signify inhabitants of<br />\nthe water, nymphs of the stream; or, as Goldstücker thinks (Dict. s.v.) these<br />\ndivinities were originally personifications of the vapours which are attracted<br />\nby the sun and form into mist or clouds.<br />\n207“Surá, in the feminine comprehends all sorts of intoxicating liquors, many<br />\nkinds of which the Indians from the earliest times distilled and prepared from<br />\nrice, sugar-cane, the palm tree, and various flowers and plants. Nothing is<br />\nconsidered more disgraceful among orthodox Hindus than drunkenness, and<br />\nthe use of wine is forbidden not only to Bráhmans but the two other orders<br />\nas well.… So it clearly appears derogatory to the dignity of the Gods to have<br />\nreceived a nymph so pernicious, who ought rather to have been made over to<br />\nthe Titans. However the etymological fancy has prevailed. The word Sura, a<br />\nGod, is derived from the indeclinable Swar heaven.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\n192<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTheir kinsmen of the rival brood<br />\nTo the pure maid in honour sued.<br />\nHence those who loved that nymph so fair<br />\nThe hallowed name of Suras bear.<br />\nAnd Asurs are the Titan crowd<br />\nHer gentle claims who disallowed.<br />\nThen from the foamy sea was freed<br />\nUchchaihśravas,208the generous steed,<br />\nAnd Kaustubha, of gems the gem,209<br />\nAnd Soma, Moon God, after them.<br />\nAt length when many a year had fled,<br />\nUp floated, on her lotus bed,<br />\nA maiden fair and tender-eyed,<br />\nIn the young flush of beauty\'s pride.<br />\nShe shone with pearl and golden sheen,<br />\nAnd seals of glory stamped her queen,<br />\nOn each round arm glowed many a gem,<br />\nOn her smooth brows, a diadem.<br />\nRolling in waves beneath her crown<br />\nThe glory of her hair flowed down,<br />\nPearls on her neck of price untold,<br />\nThe lady shone like burnisht gold.<br />\nQueen of the Gods, she leapt to land,<br />\nA lotus in her perfect hand,<br />\nAnd fondly, of the lotus-sprung,<br />\nTo lotus-bearing Vishṇu clung.<br />\n208Literally, high-eared, the horse of Indra. Compare the production of the<br />\nhorse from the sea by Neptune.<br />\n209<br />\n“And Kaustubha the best<br />\nOf gems that burns with living light<br />\nUpon Lord Vishṇu\'s breast.”<br />\nChurning of the Ocean.<br />\nCanto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.<br />\n193<br />\nHer Gods above and men below<br />\nAs Beauty\'s Queen and Fortune know.210<br />\nGods, Titans, and the minstrel train<br />\nStill churned and wrought the troubled main.<br />\nAt length the prize so madly sought,<br />\nThe Amrit, to their sight was brought.<br />\nFor the rich spoil, \'twixt these and those<br />\nA fratricidal war arose,<br />\nAnd, host \'gainst host in battle, set,<br />\nAditi\'s sons and Diti\'s met.<br />\nUnited, with the giants\' aid,<br />\nTheir fierce attack the Titans made,<br />\nAnd wildly raged for many a day<br />\nThat universe-astounding fray.<br />\nWhen wearied arms were faint to strike,<br />\nAnd ruin threatened all alike,<br />\nVishṇu, with art\'s illusive aid,<br />\nThe Amrit from their sight conveyed.<br />\nThat Best of Beings smote his foes<br />\nWho dared his deathless arm oppose:<br />\nYea, Vishṇu, all-pervading God,<br />\nBeneath his feet the Titans trod<br />\nAditi\'s race, the sons of light,<br />\nslew Diti\'s brood in cruel fight.<br />\n210“That this story of the birth of Lakshmí is of considerable antiquity is<br />\nevident from one of her names Kshírábdhi-tanayá, daughter of the Milky Sea,<br />\nwhich is found in Amarasinha the most ancient of Indian lexicographers. The<br />\nsimilarity to the Greek myth of Venus being born from the foam of the sea is<br />\nremarkable.”<br />\n“In this description of Lakshmí one thing only offends me, that she is said<br />\nto have four arms. Each of Vishṇu\'s arms, single, as far as the elbow, there<br />\nbranches into two; but Lakshmí in all the brass seals that I possess or remember<br />\ntohaveseenhastwoarmsonly. Nordoesthisdeformityofredundantlimbssuit<br />\nthe pattern of perfect beauty.” SCHLEGEL{FNS. I have omitted the offensive<br />\nepithet.<br />\n194<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThen town-destroying211Indra gained<br />\nHis empire, and in glory reigned<br />\nO\'er the three worlds with bard and sage<br />\nRejoicing in his heritage.<br />\nCanto XLVI. Diti\'s Hope.<br />\nBut Diti, when her sons were slain,<br />\nWild with a childless mother\'s pain,<br />\nTo Kaśyap spake, Marícha\'s son,<br />\nHer husband: “O thou glorious one!<br />\n[059]<br />\nDead are the children, mine no more,<br />\nThe mighty sons to thee I bore.<br />\nLong fervour\'s meed, I crave a boy<br />\nWhose arm may Indra\'s life destroy.<br />\nThe toil and pain my care shall be:<br />\nTo bless my hope depends on thee.<br />\nGive me a mighty son to slay<br />\nFierce Indra, gracious lord! I pray.”<br />\n211Purandhar, a common title of Indra.<br />\nCanto XLVI. Diti\'s Hope.<br />\n195<br />\nThen glorious Kaśyap thus replied<br />\nTo Diti, as she wept and sighed:<br />\n“Thy prayer is heard, dear saint! Remain<br />\nPure from all spot, and thou shalt gain<br />\nA son whose arm shall take the life<br />\nOf Indra in the battle strife.<br />\nFor full a thousand years endure<br />\nFree from all stain, supremely pure;<br />\nThen shall thy son and mine appear,<br />\nWhom the three worlds shall serve with fear.”<br />\nThese words the glorious Kaśyap said,<br />\nThen gently stroked his consort\'s head,<br />\nBlessed her, and bade a kind adieu,<br />\nAnd turned him to his rites anew.<br />\nSoon as her lord had left her side,<br />\nHer bosom swelled with joy and pride.<br />\nShe sought the shade of holy boughs,<br />\nAnd there began her awful vows.<br />\nWhile yet she wrought her rites austere,<br />\nIndra, unbidden, hastened near,<br />\nWith sweet observance tending her,<br />\nA reverential minister.<br />\nWood, water, fire, and grass he brought,<br />\nSweet roots and woodland fruit he sought,<br />\nAnd all her wants, the Thousand-eyed,<br />\nWith never-failing care, supplied,<br />\nWith tender love and soft caress<br />\nRemoving pain and weariness.<br />\nWhen, of the thousand years ordained,<br />\nTen only unfulfilled remained,<br />\nThus to her son, the Thousand-eyed,<br />\nThe Goddess in her triumph cried:<br />\n“Best of the mighty! there remain<br />\n196<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBut ten short years of toil and pain;<br />\nThese years of penance soon will flee,<br />\nAnd a new brother thou shalt see.<br />\nHim for thy sake I\'ll nobly breed,<br />\nAnd lust of war his soul shall feed;<br />\nThen free from care and sorrow thou<br />\nShalt see the worlds before him bow.”212<br />\nCanto XLVII. Sumati.<br />\nThus to Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed,<br />\nSoftly beseeching Diti sighed.<br />\nWhen but a blighted bud was left,<br />\nWhich Indra\'s hand in seven had cleft:213<br />\n“No fault, O Lord of Gods, is thine;<br />\nThe blame herein is only mine.<br />\nBut for one grace I fain would pray,<br />\nAs thou hast reft this hope away.<br />\nThis bud, O Indra, which a blight<br />\nHas withered ere it saw the light—<br />\nFrom this may seven fair spirits rise<br />\nTo rule the regions of the skies.<br />\nBe theirs through heaven\'s unbounded space<br />\n212A few verses are here left untranslated on account of the subject and<br />\nlanguage being offensive to modern taste.<br />\n213“In this myth of Indra destroying the unborn fruit of Diti with his thun-<br />\nderbolt, from which afterwards came the Maruts or Gods of Wind and Storm,<br />\ngeological phenomena are, it seems, represented under mythical images. In<br />\nthe great Mother of the Gods is, perhaps, figured the dry earth: Indra the God<br />\nof thunder rends it open, and there issue from its rent bosom the Maruts or<br />\nexhalations of the earth. But such ancient myths are difficult to interpret with<br />\nabsolute certainty.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\nCanto XLVII. Sumati.<br />\n197<br />\nOn shoulders of the winds to race,<br />\nMy children, drest in heavenly forms,<br />\nFar-famed as Maruts, Gods of storms.<br />\nOne God to Brahmá\'s sphere assign,<br />\nLet one, O Indra, watch o\'er thine;<br />\nAnd ranging through the lower air,<br />\nThe third the name of Váyu214bear.<br />\nGods let the four remaining be,<br />\nAnd roam through space, obeying thee.”<br />\nThe Town-destroyer, Thousand-eyed,<br />\nWho smote fierce Bali till he died,<br />\nJoined suppliant hands, and thus replied:<br />\n“Thy children heavenly forms shall wear;<br />\nThe names devised by thee shall bear,<br />\nAnd, Maruts called by my decree,<br />\nShall Amrit drink and wait on me.<br />\nFrom fear and age and sickness freed,<br />\nThrough the three worlds their wings shall speed.”<br />\nThus in the hermits\' holy shade<br />\nMother and son their compact made,<br />\nAnd then, as fame relates, content,<br />\nHome to the happy skies they went.<br />\nThis is the spot—so men have told—<br />\nWhere Lord Mahendra215dwelt of old,<br />\nThis is the blessed region where<br />\nHis votaress mother claimed his care.<br />\nHere gentle Alambúshá bare<br />\nTo old Ikshváku, king and sage,<br />\nViśála, glory of his age,<br />\nBy whom, a monarch void of guilt,<br />\nWas this fair town Viśálá built.<br />\n[060]<br />\n214Wind.<br />\n215Indra, with mahá, great, prefixed.<br />\n198<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHis son was Hemachandra, still<br />\nRenowned for might and warlike skill.<br />\nFrom him the great Suchandra came;<br />\nHis son, Dhúmráśva, dear to fame.<br />\nNext followed royal Srinjay; then<br />\nFamed Sahadeva, lord of men.<br />\nNext came Kuśáśva, good and mild,<br />\nWhose son was Somadatta styled,<br />\nAnd Sumati, his heir, the peer<br />\nOf Gods above, now governs here.<br />\nAnd ever through Ikshváku\'s grace,<br />\nViśálá\'s kings, his noble race,<br />\nAre lofty-souled, and blest with length<br />\nOf days, with virtue, and with strength.<br />\nThis night, O prince, we here will sleep;<br />\nAnd when the day begins to peep,<br />\nOur onward way will take with thee,<br />\nThe king of Míthilá to see.”<br />\nThen Sumati, the king, aware<br />\nOf Viśvámitra\'s advent there,<br />\nCame quickly forth with honour meet<br />\nThe lofty-minded sage to greet.<br />\nGirt with his priest and lords the king<br />\nDid low obeisance, worshipping,<br />\nWith suppliant hands, with head inclined,<br />\nThus spoke he after question kind;<br />\n“Since thou hast deigned to bless my sight,<br />\nAnd grace awhile thy servant\'s seat,<br />\nHigh fate is mine, great Anchorite,<br />\nAnd none may with my bliss compete.”<br />\nCanto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalyá<br />\n199<br />\nCanto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalyá<br />\nWhen mutual courtesies had past,<br />\nViśálá\'s ruler spoke at last:<br />\n“These princely youths, O Sage, who vie<br />\nIn might with children of the sky,<br />\nHeroic, born for happy fate,<br />\nWith elephants\' or lions\' gait,<br />\nBold as the tiger or the bull,<br />\nWith lotus eyes so large and full,<br />\nArmed with the quiver, sword, and bow,<br />\nWhose figures like the Aśvins216show,<br />\nLike children of the deathless Powers,<br />\nCome freely to these shades of ours,217—<br />\nHow have they reached on foot this place?<br />\nWhat do they seek, and what their race?<br />\nAs sun and moon adorn the sky,<br />\nThis spot the heroes glorify.<br />\nAlike in stature, port, and mien,<br />\nThe same fair form in each is seen,”<br />\nHe spoke; and at the monarch\'s call<br />\nThe best of hermits told him all,<br />\nHow in the grove with him they dwelt,<br />\nAnd slaughter to the demons dealt.<br />\nThen wonder filled the monarch\'s breast,<br />\nWho tended well each royal guest.<br />\nThus entertained, the princely pair<br />\nRemained that night and rested there,<br />\nAnd with the morn\'s returning ray<br />\nTo Mithilá pursued their way.<br />\n216The Heavenly Twins.<br />\n217Not banished from heaven as the inferior Gods and demigods sometimes<br />\nwere.<br />\n200<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWhen Janak\'s lovely city first<br />\nUpon their sight, yet distant, burst,<br />\nThe hermits all with joyful cries<br />\nHailed the fair town that met their eyes.<br />\nThen Ráma saw a holy wood,<br />\nClose, in the city\'s neighbourhood,<br />\nO\'ergrown, deserted, marked by age,<br />\nAnd thus addressed the mighty sage:<br />\n“O reverend lord. I long to know<br />\nWhat hermit dwelt here long ago.”<br />\nThen to the prince his holy guide,<br />\nMost eloquent of men, replied:<br />\n“O Ráma, listen while I tell<br />\nWhose was this grove, and what befell<br />\nWhen in the fury of his rage<br />\nThe high saint cursed the hermitage.<br />\nThis was the grove—most lovely then—<br />\nOf Gautam, O thou best of men,<br />\nLike heaven itself, most honoured by<br />\nThe Gods who dwell above the sky.<br />\nHere with Ahalyá at his side<br />\nHis fervid task the ascetic plied.<br />\nYears fled in thousands. On a day<br />\nIt chanced the saint had gone away,<br />\nWhen Town-destroying Indra came,<br />\nAnd saw the beauty of the dame.<br />\nThe sage\'s form the God endued,<br />\nAnd thus the fair Ahalyá wooed:<br />\n“Love, sweet! should brook no dull delay<br />\nBut snatch the moments when he may.”<br />\nShe knew him in the saint\'s disguise,<br />\nLord Indra of the Thousand Eyes,<br />\nBut touched by love\'s unholy fire,<br />\nShe yielded to the God\'s desire.<br />\nCanto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalyá<br />\n201<br />\n“Now, Lord of Gods!” she whispered, “flee,<br />\nFrom Gautam save thyself and me.”<br />\nTrembling with doubt and wild with dread<br />\nLord Indra from the cottage fled;<br />\nBut fleeing in the grove he met<br />\nThe home-returning anchoret,<br />\nWhose wrath the Gods and fiends would shun,<br />\nSuch power his fervent rites had won.<br />\nFresh from the lustral flood he came,<br />\nIn splendour like the burning flame,<br />\nWith fuel for his sacred rites,<br />\nAnd grass, the best of eremites.<br />\nThe Lord of Gods was sad of cheer<br />\nTo see the mighty saint so near,<br />\nAnd when the holy hermit spied<br />\nIn hermit\'s garb the Thousand-eyed,<br />\n[061]<br />\nHe knew the whole, his fury broke<br />\nForth on the sinner as he spoke:<br />\n“Because my form thou hast assumed,<br />\nAnd wrought this folly, thou art doomed,<br />\nFor this my curse to thee shall cling,<br />\nHenceforth a sad and sexless thing.”<br />\nNo empty threat that sentence came,<br />\nIt chilled his soul and marred his frame,<br />\nHis might and godlike vigour fled,<br />\nAnd every nerve was cold and dead.<br />\nThen on his wife his fury burst,<br />\nAnd thus the guilty dame he cursed:<br />\n“For countless years, disloyal spouse,<br />\nDevoted to severest vows,<br />\nThy bed the ashes, air thy food,<br />\nHere shalt thou live in solitude.<br />\n202<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThis lonely grove thy home shall be,<br />\nAnd not an eye thy form shall see.<br />\nWhen Ráma, Daśaratha\'s child,<br />\nShall seek these shades then drear and wild,<br />\nHis coming shall remove thy stain,<br />\nAnd make the sinner pure again.<br />\nDue honour paid to him, thy guest,<br />\nShall cleanse thy fond and erring breast,<br />\nThee to my side in bliss restore,<br />\nAnd give thy proper shape once more.”218<br />\nThus to his guilty wife he said,<br />\nThen far the holy Gautam fled,<br />\nAnd on Himálaya\'s lovely heights<br />\nSpent the long years in sternest rites.”<br />\nCanto XLIX. Ahalyá Freed.<br />\nThen Ráma, following still his guide,<br />\nWithin the grove, with Lakshmaṇ, hied,<br />\nHer vows a wondrous light had lent<br />\nTo that illustrious penitent.<br />\nHe saw the glorious lady, screened<br />\nFrom eye of man, and God, and fiend,<br />\nLike some bright portent which the care<br />\n218Kumárila says: “In the same manner, if it is said that Indra was the seducer<br />\nof Ahalyá this does not imply that the God Indra committed such a crime,<br />\nbut Indra means the sun, and Ahalyá (from ahan and lí) the night; and as the<br />\nnight is seduced and ruined by the sun of the morning, therefore is Indra called<br />\nthe paramour of Ahalyá.” MAX MULLER{FNS, History of Ancient Sanskrit<br />\nLiterature, p. 530.<br />\nCanto XLIX. Ahalyá Freed.<br />\n203<br />\nOf Brahmá launches through the air,<br />\nDesigned by his illusive art<br />\nTo flash a moment and depart:<br />\nOr like the flame that leaps on high<br />\nTo sink involved in smoke and die:<br />\nOr like the full moon shining through<br />\nThe wintry mist, then lost to view:<br />\nOr like the sun\'s reflection, cast<br />\nUpon the flood, too bright to last:<br />\nSo was the glorious dame till then<br />\nRemoved from Gods\' and mortals\' ken,<br />\nTill—such was Gautam\'s high decree—<br />\nPrince Ráma came to set her free.<br />\nThen, with great joy that dame to meet,<br />\nThe sons of Raghu clapped her feet;<br />\nAnd she, remembering Gautam\'s oath,<br />\nWith gentle grace received them both;<br />\nThen water for their feet she gave,<br />\nGuest-gift, and all that strangers crave.<br />\nThe prince, of courteous rule aware,<br />\nReceived, as meet, the lady\'s care.<br />\nThen flowers came down in copious rain,<br />\nAnd moving to the heavenly strain<br />\nOf music in the skies that rang,<br />\nThe nymphs and minstrels danced and sang:<br />\nAnd all the Gods with one glad voice<br />\nPraised the great dame, and cried, “Rejoice!<br />\nThrough fervid rites no more defiled,<br />\nBut with thy husband reconciled.”<br />\nGautam, the holy hermit knew—<br />\nFor naught escaped his godlike view—<br />\nThat Ráma lodged beneath that shade,<br />\n204<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd hasting there his homage paid.<br />\nHe took Ahalyá to his side,<br />\nFrom sin and folly purified,<br />\nAnd let his new-found consort bear<br />\nIn his austerities a share.<br />\nThen Ráma, pride of Raghu\'s race,<br />\nWelcomed by Gautam, face to face,<br />\nWho every highest honour showed,<br />\nTo Mithilá pursued his road.<br />\nCanto L. Janak.<br />\nThe sons of Raghu journeyed forth,<br />\nBending their steps \'twixt east and north.<br />\nSoon, guided by the sage, they found,<br />\nEnclosed, a sacrificial ground.<br />\nThen to the best of saints, his guide,<br />\nIn admiration Ráma cried:<br />\n“The high-souled king no toil has spared,<br />\nBut nobly for his rite prepared,<br />\nHow many thousand Bráhmans here,<br />\nFrom every region, far and near,<br />\nWell read in holy lore, appear!<br />\nHow many tents, that sages screen,<br />\nWith wains in hundreds, here are seen!<br />\nGreat Bráhman, let us find a place<br />\nWhere we may stay and rest a space.”<br />\nThe hermit did as Ráma prayed,<br />\nAnd in a spot his lodging made,<br />\n[062]<br />\nFar from the crowd, sequestered, clear,<br />\nWith copious water flowing near.<br />\nCanto L. Janak.<br />\n205<br />\nThen Janak, best of kings, aware<br />\nOf Viśvámitra lodging there,<br />\nWith Śatánanda for his guide—<br />\nThe priest on whom he most relied,<br />\nHis chaplain void of guile and stain—<br />\nAnd others of his priestly train,<br />\nBearing the gift that greets the guest,<br />\nTo meet him with all honour pressed.<br />\nThe saint received with gladsome mind<br />\nEach honour and observance kind:<br />\nThen of his health he asked the king,<br />\nAnd how his rites were prospering,<br />\nJanak, with chaplain and with priest,<br />\nAddressed the hermits, chief and least,<br />\nAccosting all, in due degree,<br />\nWith proper words of courtesy.<br />\nThen, with his palms together laid,<br />\nThe king his supplication made:<br />\n“Deign, reverend lord, to sit thee down<br />\nWith these good saints of high renown.”<br />\nThen sate the chief of hermits there,<br />\nObedient to the monarch\'s prayer.<br />\nChaplain and priest, and king and peer,<br />\nSate in their order, far or near.<br />\nThen thus the king began to say:<br />\n“The Gods have blest my rite to-day,<br />\nAnd with the sight of thee repaid<br />\nThe preparations I have made.<br />\nGrateful am I, so highly blest,<br />\nThat thou, of saints the holiest,<br />\nHast come, O Bráhman, here with all<br />\nThese hermits to the festival.<br />\nTwelve days, O Bráhman Sage, remain—<br />\nFor so the learned priests ordain—<br />\n206<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd then, O heir of Kuśik\'s name,<br />\nThe Gods will come their dues to claim.”<br />\nWith looks that testified delight<br />\nThus spake he to the anchorite,<br />\nThen with his suppliant hands upraised,<br />\nHe asked, as earnestly he gazed:<br />\n“These princely youths, O Sage, who vie<br />\nIn might with children of the sky,<br />\nHeroic, born for happy fate,<br />\nWith elephants\' or lions\' gait,<br />\nBold as the tiger and the bull,<br />\nWith lotus eyes so large and full,<br />\nArmed with the quiver, sword and bow,<br />\nWhose figures like the Aśvins show,<br />\nLike children of the heavenly Powers,<br />\nCome freely to these shades of ours,—<br />\nHow have they reached on foot this place?<br />\nWhat do they seek, and what their race?<br />\nAs sun and moon adorn the sky,<br />\nThis spot the heroes glorify:<br />\nAlike in stature, port, and mien,<br />\nThe same fair form in each is seen.”219<br />\nThus spoke the monarch, lofty-souled,<br />\nThe saint, of heart unfathomed, told<br />\nHow, sons of Daśaratha, they<br />\nAccompanied his homeward way,<br />\nHow in the hermitage they dwelt,<br />\nAnd slaughter to the demons dealt:<br />\nTheir journey till the spot they neared<br />\n219“The preceding sixteen lines have occurred before in Canto XLVIII. This<br />\nHomeric custom of repeating a passage of several lines is strange to our poet.<br />\nThis is the only instance I remember. The repetition of single lines is common<br />\nenough.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\nCanto LI. Visvámitra.<br />\n207<br />\nWhence fair Viśálá\'s towers appeared:<br />\nAhalyá seen and freed from taint;<br />\nTheir meeting with her lord the saint;<br />\nAnd how they thither came, to know<br />\nThe virtue of the famous bow.<br />\nThus Viśvámitra spoke the whole<br />\nTo royal Janak, great of soul,<br />\nAnd when this wondrous tale was o\'er,<br />\nThe glorious hermit said no more.<br />\nCanto LI. Visvámitra.<br />\nWise Viśvámitra\'s tale was done:<br />\nThen sainted Gautam\'s eldest son,<br />\nGreat Śatánanda, far-renowned,<br />\nWhom long austerities had crowned<br />\nWith glory—as the news he heard<br />\nThe down upon his body stirred,—<br />\nFilled full of wonder at the sight<br />\nOf Ráma, felt supreme delight.<br />\nWhen Śatánanda saw the pair<br />\nOf youthful princes seated there,<br />\nHe turned him to the holy man<br />\nWho sate at ease, and thus began:<br />\n“And didst thou, mighty Sage, in truth<br />\nShow clearly to this royal youth<br />\nMy mother, glorious far and wide,<br />\nWhom penance-rites have sanctified?<br />\nAnd did my glorious mother—she,<br />\nHeiress of noble destiny—<br />\n208<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nServe her great guest with woodland store,<br />\nWhom all should honour evermore?<br />\nDidst thou the tale to Ráma tell<br />\nOf what in ancient days befell,<br />\nThe sin, the misery, and the shame<br />\nOf guilty God and faithless dame?<br />\nAnd, O thou best of hermits, say,<br />\nDid Ráma\'s healing presence stay<br />\nHer trial? was the wife restored<br />\nAgain to him, my sire and lord?<br />\nSay, Hermit, did that sire of mine<br />\nReceive her with a soul benign,<br />\nWhen long austerities in time<br />\nHad cleansed her from the taint of crime?<br />\n[063]<br />\nAnd, son of Kuśik, let me know,<br />\nDid my great-minded father show<br />\nHonour to Ráma, and regard,<br />\nBefore he journeyed hitherward?”<br />\nThe hermit with attentive ear<br />\nMarked all the questions of the seer:<br />\nTo him for eloquence far-famed,<br />\nHis eloquent reply he framed:<br />\n“Yea, \'twas my care no task to shun,<br />\nAnd all I had to do was done;<br />\nAs Reṇuká and Bhrigu\'s child,<br />\nThe saint and dame were reconciled.”<br />\nWhen the great sage had thus replied,<br />\nTo Ráma Śatánanda cried:<br />\n“A welcome visit, Prince, is thine,<br />\nThou scion of King Raghu\'s line.<br />\nWith him to guide thy way aright,<br />\nThis sage invincible in might,<br />\nThis Bráhman sage, most glorious-bright,<br />\nCanto LI. Visvámitra.<br />\n209<br />\nBy long austerities has wrought<br />\nA wondrous deed, exceeding thought:<br />\nThou knowest well, O strong of arm,<br />\nThis sure defence from scathe and harm.<br />\nNone, Ráma, none is living now<br />\nIn all the earth more blest than thou,<br />\nThat thou hast won a saint so tried<br />\nIn fervid rites thy life to guide.<br />\nNow listen, Prince, while I relate<br />\nHis lofty deeds and wondrous fate.<br />\nHe was a monarch pious-souled.<br />\nHis foemen in the dust he rolled;<br />\nMost learned, prompt at duty\'s claim,<br />\nHis people\'s good his joy and aim.<br />\nOf old the Lord of Life gave birth<br />\nTo mighty Kuśa, king of earth.<br />\nHis son was Kuśanábha, strong,<br />\nFriend of the right, the foe of wrong.<br />\nGádhi, whose fame no time shall dim,<br />\nHeir of his throne was born to him,<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra, Gádhi\'s heir,<br />\nGoverned the land with kingly care.<br />\nWhile years unnumbered rolled away<br />\nThe monarch reigned with equal sway.<br />\nAt length, assembling many a band,<br />\nHe led his warriors round the land—<br />\nComplete in tale, a mighty force,<br />\nCars, elephants, and foot, and horse.<br />\nThrough cities, groves, and floods he passed,<br />\nO\'er lofty hills, through regions vast.<br />\nHe reached Vaśishṭha\'s pure abode,<br />\nWhere trees, and flowers, and creepers glowed,<br />\nWhere troops of sylvan creatures fed;<br />\n210<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWhich saints and angels visited.<br />\nGods, fauns, and bards of heavenly race,<br />\nAnd spirits, glorified the place;<br />\nThe deer their timid ways forgot,<br />\nAnd holy Bráhmans thronged the spot.<br />\nBright in their souls, like fire, were these,<br />\nMade pure by long austerities,<br />\nBound by the rule of vows severe,<br />\nAnd each in glory Brahmá\'s peer.<br />\nSome fed on water, some on air,<br />\nSome on the leaves that withered there.<br />\nRoots and wild fruit were others\' food;<br />\nAll rage was checked, each sense subdued,<br />\nThere Bálakhilyas220went and came,<br />\nNow breathed the prayer, now fed the flame:<br />\nThese, and ascetic bands beside,<br />\nThe sweet retirement beautified.<br />\nSuch was Vaśishṭha\'s blest retreat,<br />\nLike Brahmá\'s own celestial seat,<br />\nWhich gladdened Viśvámitra\'s eyes,<br />\nPeerless for warlike enterprise.<br />\nCanto LII. Vasishtha\'s Feast.<br />\n220Divine personages of minute size produced from the hair of Brahmá, and<br />\nprobably the origin of<br />\n“That small infantry<br />\nWarred on by cranes.”<br />\nCanto LII. Vasishtha\'s Feast.<br />\n211<br />\nRight glad was Viśvámitra when<br />\nHe saw the prince of saintly men.<br />\nLow at his feet the hero bent,<br />\nAnd did obeisance, reverent.<br />\nThe king was welcomed in, and shown<br />\nA seat beside the hermit\'s own,<br />\nWho offered him, when resting there,<br />\nFruit in due course, and woodland fare.<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra, noblest king,<br />\nReceived Vaśishṭha\'s welcoming,<br />\nTurned to his host, and prayed him tell<br />\nThat he and all with him were well.<br />\nVaśishṭha to the king replied<br />\nThat all was well on every side,<br />\nThat fire, and vows, and pupils throve,<br />\nAnd all the trees within the grove.<br />\nAnd then the son of Brahmá, best<br />\nOf all who pray with voice suppressed,<br />\nQuestioned with pleasant words like these<br />\nThe mighty king who sate at ease:<br />\n“And is it well with thee? I pray;<br />\nAnd dost thou win by virtuous sway<br />\nThy people\'s love, discharging all<br />\nThe duties on a king that fall?<br />\nAre all thy servants fostered well?<br />\nDo all obey, and none rebel?<br />\nHast thou, destroyer of the foe,<br />\nNo enemies to overthrow?<br />\nDoes fortune, conqueror! still attend<br />\nThy treasure, host, and every friend?<br />\nIs it all well? Does happy fate<br />\nOn sons and children\'s children wait?”<br />\n212<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHe spoke. The modest king replied<br />\nThat all was prosperous far and wide.<br />\n[064]<br />\nThus for awhile the two conversed,<br />\nAs each to each his tale rehearsed,<br />\nAnd as the happy moments flew,<br />\nTheir joy and friendship stronger grew.<br />\nWhen such discourse had reached an end,<br />\nThus spoke the saint most reverend<br />\nTo royal Viśvámitra, while<br />\nHis features brightened with a smile:<br />\n“O mighty lord of men. I fain<br />\nWould banquet thee and all thy train<br />\nIn mode that suits thy station high:<br />\nAnd do not thou my prayer deny.<br />\nLet my good lord with favour take<br />\nThe offering that I fain would make,<br />\nAnd let me honour, ere we part,<br />\nMy royal guest with loving heart.”<br />\nHim Viśvámitra thus addressed:<br />\n“Why make, O Saint, this new request?<br />\nThy welcome and each gracious word<br />\nSufficient honour have conferred.<br />\nThou gavest roots and fruit to eat,<br />\nThe treasures of this pure retreat,<br />\nAnd water for my mouth and feet;<br />\nAnd—boon I prize above the rest—<br />\nThy presence has mine eyesight blest.<br />\nHonoured by thee in every way,<br />\nTo whom all honour all should pay,<br />\nI now will go. My lord, Good-bye!<br />\nRegard me with a friendly eye.”<br />\nCanto LIII. Visvámitra\'s Request.<br />\n213<br />\nHim speaking thus Vaśishṭha stayed,<br />\nAnd still to share his banquet prayed.<br />\nThe will of Gádhi\'s son he bent,<br />\nAnd won the monarch to consent,<br />\nWho spoke in answer. “Let it be,<br />\nGreat Hermit, as it pleases thee.”<br />\nWhen, best of those who breathe the prayer,<br />\nHe heard the king his will declare,<br />\nHe called the cow of spotted skin,<br />\nAll spot without, all pure within.<br />\n“Come, Dapple-skin,” he cried, “with speed;<br />\nHear thou my words and help at need.<br />\nMy heart is set to entertain<br />\nThis monarch and his mighty train<br />\nWith sumptuous meal and worthy fare;<br />\nBe thine the banquet to prepare.<br />\nEach dainty cate, each goodly dish,<br />\nOf six-fold taste221as each may wish—<br />\nAll these, O cow of heavenly power,<br />\nRain down for me in copious shower:<br />\nViands and drink for tooth and lip,<br />\nTo eat, to suck, to quaff, to sip—<br />\nOf these sufficient, and to spare,<br />\nO plenty-giving cow, prepare.”<br />\nCanto LIII. Visvámitra\'s Request.<br />\n221Sweet, salt, pungent, bitter, acid, and astringent.<br />\n214<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThus charged, O slayer of thy foes,<br />\nThe cow from whom all plenty flows,<br />\nObedient to her saintly lord,<br />\nViands to suit each taste, outpoured.<br />\nHoney she gave, and roasted grain,<br />\nMead sweet with flowers, and sugar-cane.<br />\nEach beverage of flavour rare,<br />\nAn food of every sort, were there:<br />\nHills of hot rice, and sweetened cakes,<br />\nAnd curdled milk and soup in lakes.<br />\nVast beakers foaming to the brim<br />\nWith sugared drink prepared for him,<br />\nAnd dainty sweetmeats, deftly made,<br />\nBefore the hermit\'s guests were laid.<br />\nSo well regaled, so nobly fed,<br />\nThe mighty army banqueted,<br />\nAnd all the train, from chief to least,<br />\nDelighted in Vaśishṭha\'s feast.<br />\nThen Viśvámitra, royal sage,<br />\nSurrounded by his vassalage,<br />\nPrince, peer, and counsellor, and all<br />\nFrom highest lord to lowest thrall,<br />\nThus feasted, to Vaśishṭha cried<br />\nWith joy, supremely gratified:<br />\n“Rich honour I, thus entertained,<br />\nMost honourable lord, have gained:<br />\nNow hear, before I journey hence,<br />\nMy words, O skilled in eloquence.<br />\nBought for a hundred thousand kine,<br />\nLet Dapple-skin, O Saint, be mine.<br />\nA wondrous jewel is thy cow,<br />\nAnd gems are for the monarch\'s brow.222<br />\n222“Of old hoards and minerals in the earth, the king is entitled to half by<br />\nreason of his general protection, and because he is the lord paramount of the<br />\nCanto LIII. Visvámitra\'s Request.<br />\n215<br />\nTo me her rightful lord resign<br />\nThis Dapple-skin thou callest thine.”<br />\nThe great Vaśishṭha, thus addressed,<br />\nArch-hermit of the holy breast,<br />\nTo Viśvámitra answer made,<br />\nThe king whom all the land obeyed:<br />\n“Not for a hundred thousand,—nay,<br />\nNot if ten million thou wouldst pay,<br />\nWith silver heaps the price to swell,—<br />\nWill I my cow, O Monarch, sell.<br />\nUnmeet for her is such a fate.<br />\nThat I my friend should alienate.<br />\nAs glory with the virtuous, she<br />\nFor ever makes her home with me.<br />\nOn her mine offerings which ascend<br />\nTo Gods and spirits all depend:<br />\nMy very life is due to her,<br />\nMy guardian, friend, and minister.<br />\n[065]<br />\nThe feeding of the sacred flame,223<br />\nThe dole which living creatures claim.224.<br />\nThe mighty sacrifice by fire,<br />\nEach formula the rites require,225<br />\nAnd various saving lore beside,<br />\nAre by her aid, in sooth, supplied.<br />\nThe banquet which thy host has shared,<br />\nsoil.” MANU{FNS, Book VIII. 39.<br />\n223Ghí or clarified butter, “holy oil,” being one of the essentials of sacrifice.<br />\n224“A Bráhman had five principal duties to discharge every day: study and<br />\nteaching the Veda, oblations to the manes or spirits of the departed, sacrifice to<br />\nthe Gods, hospitable offerings to men, and a gift of food to all creatures. The<br />\nlast consisted of rice or other grain which the Bráhman was to offer every day<br />\noutside his house in the open air. MANU{FNS, Book III. 70.” GORRESIO{FNS<br />\n225These were certain sacred words of invocation such a sváhá, vashaṭ, etc.,<br />\npronounced at the time of sacrifice.<br />\n216<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBelieve it, was by her prepared,<br />\nIn her mine only treasures lie,<br />\nShe cheers mine heart and charms mine eye.<br />\nAnd reasons more could I assign<br />\nWhy Dapple-skin can ne\'er be thine.”<br />\nThe royal sage, his suit denied,<br />\nWith eloquence more earnest cried:<br />\n“Tusked elephants, a goodly train,<br />\nEach with a golden girth and chain,<br />\nWhose goads with gold well fashioned shine—<br />\nOf these be twice seven thousand thine.<br />\nAnd four-horse cars with gold made bright,<br />\nWith steeds most beautifully white,<br />\nWhose bells make music as they go,<br />\nEight hundred, Saint, will I bestow.<br />\nEleven thousand mettled steeds<br />\nFrom famous lands, of noble breeds—<br />\nThese will I gladly give, O thou<br />\nDevoted to each holy vow.<br />\nTen million heifers, fair to view,<br />\nWhose sides are marked with every hue—<br />\nThese in exchange will I assign;<br />\nBut let thy Dapple-skin be mine.<br />\nAsk what thou wilt, and piles untold<br />\nOf priceless gems and gleaming gold,<br />\nO best of Bráhmans, shall be thine;<br />\nBut let thy Dapple-skin be mine.”<br />\nCanto LIV. The Battle.<br />\n217<br />\nThe great Vaśishṭha, thus addressed,<br />\nMade answer to the king\'s request:<br />\n“Ne\'er will I give my cow away,<br />\nMy gem, my wealth, my life and stay.<br />\nMy worship at the moon\'s first show,<br />\nAnd at the full, to her I owe;<br />\nAnd sacrifices small and great,<br />\nWhich largess due and gifts await.<br />\nFrom her alone, their root, O King,<br />\nMy rites and holy service spring.<br />\nWhat boots it further words to say?<br />\nI will not give my cow away<br />\nWho yields me what I ask each day.”<br />\nCanto LIV. The Battle.<br />\nAs Saint Vaśishṭha answered so,<br />\nNor let the cow of plenty go,<br />\nThe monarch, as a last resource,<br />\nBegan to drag her off by force.<br />\nWhile the king\'s servants tore away<br />\nTheir moaning, miserable prey,<br />\nSad, sick at heart, and sore distressed,<br />\nShe pondered thus within her breast:<br />\n“Why am I thus forsaken? why<br />\nBetrayed by him of soul most high.<br />\nVaśishṭha, ravished by the hands<br />\nOf soldiers of the monarch\'s bands?<br />\nAh me! what evil have I done<br />\nAgainst the lofty-minded one,<br />\nThat he, so pious, can expose<br />\n218<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe innocent whose love he knows?”<br />\nIn her sad breast as thus she thought,<br />\nAnd heaved deep sighs with anguish fraught,<br />\nWith wondrous speed away she fled,<br />\nAnd back to Saint Vaśishṭha sped.<br />\nShe hurled by hundreds to the ground<br />\nThe menial crew that hemmed her round,<br />\nAnd flying swifter than the blast<br />\nBefore the saint herself she cast.<br />\nThere Dapple-skin before the saint<br />\nStood moaning forth her sad complaint,<br />\nAnd wept and lowed: such tones as come<br />\nFrom wandering cloud or distant drum.<br />\n“O son of Brahmá,” thus cried she,<br />\n“Why hast thou thus forsaken me,<br />\nThat the king\'s men, before thy face,<br />\nBear off thy servant from her place?”<br />\nThen thus the Bráhman saint replied<br />\nTo her whose heart with woe was tried,<br />\nAnd grieving for his favourite\'s sake,<br />\nAs to a suffering sister spake:<br />\n“I leave thee not: dismiss the thought;<br />\nNor, duteous, hast thou failed in aught.<br />\nThis king, o\'erweening in the pride<br />\nOf power, has reft thee from my side.<br />\nLittle, I ween, my strength could do<br />\n\'Gainst him, a mighty warrior too.<br />\nStrong, as a soldier born and bred,—<br />\nGreat, as a king whom regions dread.<br />\nSee! what a host the conqueror leads,<br />\nWith elephants, and cars, and steeds.<br />\nO\'er countless bands his pennons fly;<br />\nSo is he mightier far than I.”<br />\n[066]<br />\nCanto LIV. The Battle.<br />\n219<br />\nHe spoke. Then she, in lowly mood,<br />\nTo that high saint her speech renewed:<br />\n“So judge not they who wisest are:<br />\nThe Bráhman\'s might is mightier far.<br />\nFor Bráhmans strength from Heaven derive,<br />\nAnd warriors bow when Bráhmans strive.<br />\nA boundless power \'tis thine to wield:<br />\nTo such a king thou shouldst not yield,<br />\nWho, very mighty though he be,—<br />\nSo fierce thy strength,—must bow to thee.<br />\nCommand me, Saint. Thy power divine<br />\nHas brought me here and made me thine;<br />\nAnd I, howe\'er the tyrant boast,<br />\nWill tame his pride and slay his host.”<br />\nThen cried the glorious sage: “Create<br />\nA mighty force the foe to mate.”<br />\nShe lowed, and quickened into life,<br />\nPahlavas,226burning for the strife,<br />\nKing Viśvámitra\'s army slew<br />\nBefore the very leader\'s view.<br />\nThe monarch in excessive ire,<br />\nHis eyes with fury darting fire,<br />\nRained every missile on the foe<br />\nTill all the Pahlavas were low.<br />\n226“It is well known that the Persians were called Pahlavas by the Indians.<br />\nThe Śakas are nomad tribes inhabiting Central Asia, the Scythes of the Greeks,<br />\nwhom the Persians also, as Herodotus tells us, called Sakæ just as the Indians<br />\ndid. Lib. VII 64 ὁι γὰρ Πέρσαι πάντας τοὺς Σύθας. καλέουσι Σάκας. The name<br />\nYavans seems to be used rather indefinitely for nations situated beyond Persia<br />\nto the west.… After the time of Alexander the Great the Indians as well as the<br />\nPersians called the Greeks also Yavans.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\nLassen thinks that the Pahlavas were the same people as the Πάκτυες of<br />\nHerodotus, and that this non-Indian people dwelt on the north-west confines of<br />\nIndia.<br />\n220<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nShe, seeing all her champions slain,<br />\nLying by thousands on the plain.<br />\nCreated, by her mere desire,<br />\nYavans and Śakas, fierce and dire.<br />\nAnd all the ground was overspread<br />\nWith Yavans and with Śakas dread:<br />\nA host of warriors bright and strong,<br />\nAnd numberless in closest throng:<br />\nThe threads within the lotus stem,<br />\nSo densely packed, might equal them.<br />\nIn gold-hued mail \'against war\'s attacks,<br />\nEach bore a sword and battle-axe,<br />\nThe royal host, where\'er these came,<br />\nFell as if burnt with ravening flame.<br />\nThe monarch, famous through the world<br />\nAgain his fearful weapons hurled,<br />\nThat made Kámbojas,227Barbars,228all,<br />\nWith Yavans, troubled, flee and fall.<br />\nCanto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.<br />\nSo o\'er the field that host lay strown,<br />\nBy Viśvámitra\'s darts o\'erthrown.<br />\nThen thus Vaśishṭha charged the cow:<br />\n“Create with all thy vigour now.”<br />\n227See page 13, note 6.<br />\n228Barbarians, non-Sanskrit-speaking tribes.<br />\nCanto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.<br />\n221<br />\nForth sprang Kámbojas, as she lowed;<br />\nBright as the sun their faces glowed,<br />\nForth from her udder Barbars poured,—<br />\nSoldiers who brandished spear and sword,—<br />\nAnd Yavans with their shafts and darts,<br />\nAnd Śakas from her hinder parts.<br />\nAnd every pore upon her fell,<br />\nAnd every hair-producing cell,<br />\nWith Mlechchhas229and Kirátas230teemed,<br />\nAnd forth with them Hárítas streamed.<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra\'s mighty force,<br />\nCar, elephant, and foot, and horse,<br />\nFell in a moment\'s time, subdued<br />\nBy that tremendous multitude.<br />\nThe monarch\'s hundred sons, whose eyes<br />\nBeheld the rout in wild surprise,<br />\nArmed with all weapons, mad with rage,<br />\nRushed fiercely on the holy sage.<br />\nOne cry he raised, one glance he shot,<br />\nAnd all fell scorched upon the spot:<br />\nBurnt by the sage to ashes, they<br />\nWith horse, and foot, and chariot, lay.<br />\nThe monarch mourned, with shame and pain,<br />\nHis army lost, his children slain,<br />\nLike Ocean when his roar is hushed,<br />\nOr some great snake whose fangs are crushed:<br />\n[067]<br />\n229A comprehensive term for foreign or outcast races of different faith and<br />\nlanguage from the Hindus.<br />\n230The Kirátas and Hárítas are savage aborigines of India who occupy hills<br />\nand jungles and are altogether different in race and character from the Hindus.<br />\nDr. Muir remarks in his Sanskrit Texts, Vol. I. p. 488 (second edition) that it<br />\ndoes not appear that it is the object of this legend to represent this miraculous<br />\ncreation as the origin of these tribes, and that nothing more may have been<br />\nintended than that the cow called into existence large armies, of the same stock<br />\nwith particular tribes previously existing.<br />\n222<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOr as in swift eclipse the Sun<br />\nDark with the doom he cannot shun:<br />\nOr a poor bird with mangled wing—<br />\nSo, reft of sons and host, the king<br />\nNo longer, by ambition fired,<br />\nThe pride of war his breast inspired.<br />\nHe gave his empire to his son—<br />\nOf all he had, the only one:<br />\nAnd bade him rule as kings are taught<br />\nThen straight a hermit-grove he sought.<br />\nFar to Himálaya\'s side he fled,<br />\nWhich bards and Nágas visited,<br />\nAnd, Mahádeva\'s231grace to earn,<br />\nHe gave his life to penance stern.<br />\nA lengthened season thus passed by,<br />\nWhen Śiva\'s self, the Lord most High,<br />\nWhose banner shows the pictured bull,232<br />\nAppeared, the God most bountiful:<br />\n“Why fervent thus in toil and pain?<br />\nWhat brings thee here? what boon to gain?<br />\nThy heart\'s desire, O Monarch, speak:<br />\nI grant the boons which mortals seek.”<br />\nThe king, his adoration paid,<br />\nTo Mahádeva answer made:<br />\n“If thou hast deemed me fit to win<br />\nThy favour, O thou void of sin,<br />\nOn me, O mighty God, bestow<br />\nThe wondrous science of the bow,<br />\nAll mine, complete in every part,<br />\nWith secret spell and mystic art.<br />\nTo me be all the arms revealed<br />\n231The Great God, Śiva.<br />\n232Nandi, the snow-white bull, the attendant and favourite vehicle of Śiva.<br />\nCanto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.<br />\n223<br />\nThat Gods, and saints, and Titans wield,<br />\nAnd every dart that arms the hands<br />\nOf spirits, fiends and minstrel bands,<br />\nBe mine, O Lord supreme in place,<br />\nThis token of thy boundless grace.”<br />\nThe Lord of Gods then gave consent,<br />\nAnd to his heavenly mansion went.<br />\nTriumphant in the arms he held,<br />\nThe monarch\'s breast with glory swelled.<br />\nSo swells the ocean, when upon<br />\nHis breast the full moon\'s beams have shone.<br />\nAlready in his mind he viewed<br />\nVaśishṭha at his feet subdued.<br />\nHe sought that hermit\'s grove, and there<br />\nLaunched his dire weapons through the air,<br />\nTill scorched by might that none could stay<br />\nThe hermitage in ashes lay.<br />\nWhere\'er the inmates saw, aghast,<br />\nThe dart that Viśvámitra cast,<br />\nTo every side they turned and fled<br />\nIn hundreds forth disquieted.<br />\nVaśishṭha\'s pupils caught the fear,<br />\nAnd every bird and every deer,<br />\nAnd fled in wild confusion forth<br />\nEastward and westward, south and north,<br />\nAnd so Vaśishṭha\'s holy shade<br />\nA solitary wild was made,<br />\nSilent awhile, for not a sound<br />\nDisturbed the hush that was around.<br />\n224<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nVaśishṭha then, with eager cry,<br />\nCalled, “Fear not, friends, nor seek to fly.<br />\nThis son of Gádhi dies to-day,<br />\nLike hoar-frost in the morning\'s ray.”<br />\nThus having said, the glorious sage<br />\nSpoke to the king in words of rage:<br />\n“Because thou hast destroyed this grove<br />\nWhich long in holy quiet throve,<br />\nBy folly urged to senseless crime,<br />\nNow shalt thou die before thy time.”<br />\nCanto LVI. Visvámitra\'s Vow.<br />\nBut Viśvámitra, at the threat<br />\nOf that illustrious anchoret,<br />\nCried, as he launched with ready hand<br />\nA fiery weapon, “Stand, O Stand!”<br />\nVaśishṭha, wild with rage and hate,<br />\nRaising, as \'twere the Rod of Fate,<br />\nHis mighty Bráhman wand on high,<br />\nTo Viśvámitra made reply:<br />\n“Nay, stand, O Warrior thou, and show<br />\nWhat soldier can, \'gainst Bráhman foe.<br />\nO Gádhi\'s son, thy days are told;<br />\nThy pride is tamed, thy dart is cold.<br />\nHow shall a warrior\'s puissance dare<br />\nWith Bráhman\'s awful strength compare?<br />\nTo-day, base Warrior, shall thou feel<br />\nThat God-sent might is more than steel.”<br />\nHe raised his Bráhman staff, nor missed<br />\nThe fiery dart that near him hissed:<br />\nCanto LVI. Visvámitra\'s Vow.<br />\n225<br />\nAnd quenched the fearful weapon fell,<br />\nAs flame beneath the billow\'s swell.<br />\nThen Gádhi\'s son in fury threw<br />\nLord Varuṇ\'s arm and Rudra\'s too:<br />\nIndra\'s fierce bolt that all destroys;<br />\nThat which the Lord of Herds employs:<br />\nThe Human, that which minstrels keep,<br />\nThe deadly Lure, the endless Sleep:<br />\nThe Yawner, and the dart which charms;<br />\nLament and Torture, fearful arms:<br />\nThe Terrible, the dart which dries,<br />\nThe Thunderbolt which quenchless flies,<br />\nAnd Fate\'s dread net, and Brahmá\'s noose,<br />\nAnd that which waits for Varuṇ\'s use:<br />\nThe dart he loves who wields the bow<br />\nPináka, and twin bolts that glow<br />\nWith fury as they flash and fly,<br />\nThe quenchless Liquid and the Dry:<br />\nThe dart of Vengeance, swift to kill:<br />\nThe Goblins\' dart, the Curlew\'s Bill:<br />\n[068]<br />\nThe discus both of Fate and Right,<br />\nAnd Vishṇu\'s, of unerring flight:<br />\nThe Wind-God\'s dart, the Troubler dread,<br />\nThe weapon named the Horse\'s Head.<br />\nFrom his fierce hand two spears were thrown,<br />\nAnd the great mace that smashes bone;<br />\nThe dart of spirits of the air,<br />\nAnd that which Fate exults to bear:<br />\nThe Trident dart which slaughters foes,<br />\nAnd that which hanging skulls compose:233<br />\n233“The names of many of these weapons which are mythical and partly alle-<br />\ngorical have occurred in Canto XXIX. The general signification of the story is<br />\nclear enough. It is a contest for supremacy between the regal or military order<br />\n226<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThese fearful darts in fiery rain<br />\nHe hurled upon the saint amain,<br />\nAn awful miracle to view.<br />\nBut as the ceaseless tempest flew,<br />\nThe sage with wand of God-sent power<br />\nStill swallowed up that fiery shower.<br />\nThen Gádhi\'s son, when these had failed,<br />\nWith Brahmá\'s dart his foe assailed.<br />\nThe Gods, with Indra at their head,<br />\nAnd Nágas, quailed disquieted,<br />\nAnd saints and minstrels, when they saw<br />\nThe king that awful weapon draw;<br />\nAnd the three worlds were filled with dread,<br />\nAnd trembled as the missile sped.<br />\nThe saint, with Bráhman wand, empowered<br />\nBy lore divine that dart devoured.<br />\nNor could the triple world withdraw<br />\nRapt gazes from that sight of awe;<br />\nFor as he swallowed down the dart<br />\nOf Brahmá, sparks from every part,<br />\nFrom finest pore and hair-cell, broke<br />\nEnveloped in a veil of smoke.<br />\nThe staff he waved was all aglow<br />\nLike Yáma\'s sceptre, King below,<br />\nOr like the lurid fire of Fate<br />\nWhose rage the worlds will desolate.<br />\nand Bráhmanical or priestly authority, like one of those struggles which our<br />\nown Europe saw in the middle ages when without employing warlike weapons<br />\nthe priesthood frequently gained the victory.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\nFor a full account of the early contests between the Bráhmans and the<br />\nKshattriyas, see Muir\'s Original Sanskrit Texts (Second edition) Vol. I. Ch.<br />\nIV.<br />\nCanto LVII. Trisanku.<br />\n227<br />\nThe hermits, whom that sight had awed,<br />\nExtolled the saint, with hymn and laud:<br />\n“Thy power, O Sage, is ne\'er in vain:<br />\nNow with thy might thy might restrain.<br />\nBe gracious, Master, and allow<br />\nThe worlds to rest from trouble now;<br />\nFor Viśvámitra, strong and dread,<br />\nBy thee has been discomfited.”<br />\nThen, thus addressed, the saint, well pleased,<br />\nThe fury of his wrath appeased.<br />\nThe king, o\'erpowered and ashamed,<br />\nWith many a deep-drawn sigh exclaimed:<br />\n“Ah! Warriors\' strength is poor and slight;<br />\nA Bráhman\'s power is truly might.<br />\nThis Bráhman staff the hermit held<br />\nThe fury of my darts has quelled.<br />\nThis truth within my heart impressed,<br />\nWith senses ruled and tranquil breast<br />\nMy task austere will I begin,<br />\nAnd Bráhmanhood will strive to win.”<br />\nCanto LVII. Trisanku.<br />\nThen with his heart consumed with woe,<br />\nStill brooding on his overthrow<br />\nBy the great saint he had defied,<br />\nAt every breath the monarch sighed.<br />\nForth from his home his queen he led,<br />\nAnd to a land far southward fled.<br />\nThere, fruit and roots his only food,<br />\n228<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHe practised penance, sense-subdued,<br />\nAnd in that solitary spot<br />\nFour virtuous sons the king begot:<br />\nHavishyand, from the offering named,<br />\nAnd Madhushyand, for sweetness famed,<br />\nMahárath, chariot-borne in fight,<br />\nAnd Driḍhanetra strong of sight.<br />\nA thousand years had passed away,<br />\nWhen Brahmá, Sire whom all obey,<br />\nAddressed in pleasant words like these<br />\nHim rich in long austerities:<br />\n“Thou by the penance, Kuśik\'s son,<br />\nA place \'mid royal saints hast won.<br />\nPleased with thy constant penance, we<br />\nThis lofty rank assign to thee.”<br />\nThus spoke the glorious Lord most High<br />\nFather of earth and air and sky,<br />\nAnd with the Gods around him spread<br />\nHome to his changeless sphere he sped.<br />\nBut Viśvámitra scorned the grace,<br />\nAnd bent in shame his angry face.<br />\nBurning with rage, o\'erwhelmed with grief,<br />\nThus in his heart exclaimed the chief:<br />\n“No fruit, I ween, have I secured<br />\nBy strictest penance long endured,<br />\nIf Gods and all the saints decree<br />\nTo make but royal saint of me.”<br />\nThus pondering, he with sense subdued,<br />\nWith sternest zeal his vows renewed.<br />\n[069]<br />\nCanto LVII. Trisanku.<br />\n229<br />\nThen reigned a monarch, true of soul,<br />\nWho kept each sense in firm control;<br />\nOf old Ikshváku\'s line he came,<br />\nThat glories in Triśanku\'s234name.<br />\nWithin his breast, O Raghu\'s child,<br />\nArose a longing, strong and wild,<br />\nGreat offerings to the Gods to pay,<br />\nAnd win, alive, to heaven his way.<br />\nHis priest Vaśishṭha\'s aid he sought,<br />\nAnd told him of his secret thought.<br />\nBut wise Vaśishṭha showed the hope<br />\nWas far beyond the monarch\'s scope.<br />\nTriśanku then, his suit denied,<br />\nFar to the southern region hied,<br />\nTo beg Vaśishṭha\'s sons to aid<br />\nThe mighty plan his soul had made.<br />\nThere King Triśanku, far renowned,<br />\nVaśishṭha\'s hundred children found,<br />\nEach on his fervent vows intent,<br />\nFor mind and fame preëminent.<br />\nTo these the famous king applied,<br />\nWise children of his holy guide.<br />\nSaluting each in order due.<br />\nHis eyes, for shame, he downward threw,<br />\nAnd reverent hands together pressed,<br />\nThe glorious company addressed:<br />\n“I as a humble suppliant seek<br />\nSuccour of you who aid the weak.<br />\nA mighty offering I would pay,<br />\n234“Triśanku, king of Ayodhyá, was seventh in descent from Ikshváku, and<br />\nDaśaratha holds the thirty-fourth place in the same genealogy. See Canto LXX.<br />\nWe are thrown back, therefore, to very ancient times, and it occasions some<br />\nsurprise to find Vaśishṭha and Viśvámitra, actors in these occurences, still alive<br />\nin Rama\'s time.”<br />\n230<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBut sage Vaśishṭha answered, Nay.<br />\nBe yours permission to accord,<br />\nAnd to my rites your help afford.<br />\nSons of my guide, to each of you<br />\nWith lowly reverence here I sue;<br />\nTo each, intent on penance-vow,<br />\nO Bráhmans, low my head I bow,<br />\nAnd pray you each with ready heart<br />\nIn my great rite to bear a part,<br />\nThat in the body I may rise<br />\nAnd dwell with Gods within the skies.<br />\nSons of my guide, none else I see<br />\nCan give what he refuses me.<br />\nIkshváku\'s children still depend<br />\nUpon their guide most reverend;<br />\nAnd you, as nearest in degree<br />\nTo him, my deities shall be!”<br />\nCanto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed.<br />\nTriśanku\'s speech the hundred heard,<br />\nAnd thus replied, to anger stirred:<br />\n“Why foolish King, by him denied,<br />\nWhose truthful lips have never lied,<br />\nDost thou transgress his prudent rule,<br />\nAnd seek, for aid, another school?235<br />\n235“It does not appear how Triśanku, in asking the aid of Vaśishṭha\'s sons<br />\nafter applying in vain to their father, could be charged with resorting to another<br />\nśákhá (School) in the ordinary sense of that word; as it is not conceivable<br />\nthat the sons should have been of another Śákhá from the father, whose cause<br />\nthey espouse with so much warmth. The commentator in the Bombay edition<br />\nCanto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed.<br />\n231<br />\nIkshváku\'s sons have aye relied<br />\nMost surely on their holy guide:<br />\nThen how dost thou, fond Monarch, dare<br />\nTransgress the rule his lips declare?<br />\n“Thy wish is vain,” the saint replied,<br />\nAnd bade thee cast the plan aside.<br />\nThen how can we, his sons, pretend<br />\nIn such a rite our aid to lend?<br />\nO Monarch, of the childish heart,<br />\nHome to thy royal town depart.<br />\nThat mighty saint, thy priest and guide,<br />\nAt noblest rites may well preside:<br />\nThe worlds for sacrifice combined<br />\nA worthier priest could never find.”<br />\nSuch speech of theirs the monarch heard,<br />\nThough rage distorted every word,<br />\nAnd to the hermits made reply:<br />\n“You, like your sire, my suit deny.<br />\nFor other aid I turn from you:<br />\nSo, rich in penance, Saints, adieu!”<br />\nVaśishṭha\'s children heard, and guessed<br />\nHis evil purpose scarce expressed,<br />\nAnd cried, while rage their bosoms burned,<br />\n“Be to a vile Chaṇḍála236turned!”<br />\n[070]<br />\nThis said, with lofty thoughts inspired,<br />\nEach to his own retreat retired.<br />\nexplains the word Śákhantaram as Yájanádiná rakshántaram, ‘one who by<br />\nsacrificing for thee, etc., will be another protector.’ Gorresio\'s Gauḍa text,<br />\nwhich may often be used as a commentary on the older one, has the following<br />\nparaphrase of the words in question, ch. 60, 3. Múlam utsṛijya kasmát tvam<br />\nsákhásv ichhasi lambitum. ‘Why, forsaking the root, dost thou desire to hang<br />\nupon the branches?’” MUIR{FNS, Sanskrit Texts, Vol. I., p. 401.<br />\n236A Chaṇḍála was a man born of the illegal and impure union of a Śúdra with<br />\na woman of one of the three higher castes.<br />\n232<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThat night Triśanku underwent<br />\nSad change in shape and lineament.<br />\nNext morn, an outcast swart of hue,<br />\nHis dusky cloth he round him drew.<br />\nHis hair had fallen from his head,<br />\nAnd roughness o\'er his skin was spread.<br />\nSuch wreaths adorned him as are found<br />\nTo flourish on the funeral ground.<br />\nEach armlet was an iron ring:<br />\nSuch was the figure of the king,<br />\nThat every counsellor and peer,<br />\nAnd following townsman, fled in fear.<br />\nAlone, unyielding to dismay,<br />\nThough burnt by anguish night and day,<br />\nGreat Viśvámitra\'s side he sought,<br />\nWhose treasures were by penance bought.<br />\nThe hermit with his tender eyes<br />\nLooked on Triśanku\'s altered guise,<br />\nAnd grieving at his ruined state<br />\nAddressed him thus, compassionate:<br />\n“Great King,” the pious hermit said,<br />\n“What cause thy steps has hither led,<br />\nAyodhyá\'s mighty Sovereign, whom<br />\nA curse has plagued with outcast\'s doom?”<br />\nIn vile Chaṇḍála237shape, the king<br />\nHeard Viśvámitra\'s questioning,<br />\nAnd, suppliant palm to palm applied,<br />\nWith answering eloquence he cried:<br />\n237“TheChaṇḍálawasregardedasthevilestandmostabjectofthemensprung<br />\nfrom wedlock forbidden by the law (Mánavadharmaśástra, Lib. X. 12.); a kind<br />\nof social malediction weighed upon his head and rejected him from human<br />\nsociety.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\nCanto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed.<br />\n233<br />\n“My priest and all his sons refused<br />\nTo aid the plan on which I mused.<br />\nFailing to win the boon I sought,<br />\nTo this condition I was brought.<br />\nI, in the body, Saint, would fain<br />\nA mansion in the skies obtain.<br />\nI planned a hundred rites for this,<br />\nBut still was doomed the fruit to miss.<br />\nPure are my lips from falsehood\'s stain,<br />\nAnd pure they ever shall remain,—<br />\nYea, by a Warrior\'s faith I swear,—<br />\nThough I be tried with grief and care.<br />\nUnnumbered rites to Heaven I paid,<br />\nWith righteous care the sceptre swayed;<br />\nAnd holy priest and high-souled guide<br />\nMy modest conduct gratified.<br />\nBut, O thou best of hermits, they<br />\nOppose my wish these rites to pay;<br />\nThey one and all refuse consent,<br />\nNor aid me in my high intent.<br />\nFate is, I ween, the power supreme,<br />\nMan\'s effort but an idle dream,<br />\nFate whirls our plans, our all away;<br />\nFate is our only hope and stay;<br />\nNow deign, O blessed Saint, to aid<br />\nMe, even me by Fate betrayed,<br />\nWho come, a suppliant, sore distressed,<br />\nOne grace, O Hermit, to request.<br />\nNo other hope or way I see:<br />\nNo other refuge waits for me.<br />\nOh, aid me in my fallen state,<br />\nAnd human will shall conquer Fate.”<br />\n234<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nCanto LIX. The Sons Of Vasishtha.<br />\nThen Kuśik\'s son, by pity warmed,<br />\nSpoke sweetly to the king transformed:<br />\n“Hail! glory of Ikshváku\'s line:<br />\nI know how bright thy virtues shine.<br />\nDismiss thy fear, O noblest Chief,<br />\nFor I myself will bring relief.<br />\nThe holiest saints will I invite<br />\nTo celebrate thy purposed rite:<br />\nSo shall thy vow, O King, succeed,<br />\nAnd from thy cares shalt thou be freed.<br />\nThou in the form which now thou hast,<br />\nTransfigured by the curse they cast,—<br />\nYea, in the body, King, shalt flee,<br />\nTransported, where thou fain wouldst be.<br />\nO Lord of men, I ween that thou<br />\nHast heaven within thy hand e\'en now,<br />\nFor very wisely hast thou done,<br />\nAnd refuge sought with Kuśik\'s son.”<br />\nThus having said, the sage addressed<br />\nHis sons, of men the holiest,<br />\nAnd bade the prudent saints whate\'er<br />\nWas needed for the rite prepare.<br />\nThe pupils he was wont to teach<br />\nHe summoned next, and spoke this speech:<br />\n“Go bid Vaśishṭha\'a sons appear,<br />\nAnd all the saints be gathered here.<br />\nAnd what they one and all reply<br />\nWhen summoned by this mandate high,<br />\nTo me with faithful care report,<br />\nOmit no word and none distort.”<br />\nCanto LIX. The Sons Of Vasishtha.<br />\n235<br />\nThe pupils heard, and prompt obeyed,<br />\nTo every side their way they made.<br />\nThen swift from every quarter sped<br />\nThe sages in the Vedas read.<br />\nBack to that saint the envoys came,<br />\nWhose glory shone like burning flame,<br />\nAnd told him in their faithful speech<br />\nThe answer that they bore from each:<br />\n“Submissive to thy word, O Seer,<br />\nThe holy men are gathering here.<br />\nBy all was meet obedience shown:<br />\nMahodaya238refused alone.<br />\n[071]<br />\nAnd now, O Chief of hermits, hear<br />\nWhat answer, chilling us with fear,<br />\nVaśishṭha\'s hundred sons returned,<br />\nThick-speaking as with rage they burned:<br />\n“How will the Gods and saints partake<br />\nThe offerings that the prince would make,<br />\nAnd he a vile and outcast thing,<br />\nHis ministrant one born a king?<br />\nCan we, great Bráhmans, eat his food,<br />\nAnd think to win beatitude,<br />\nBy Viśvámitra purified?”<br />\nThus sire and sons in scorn replied,<br />\nAnd as these bitter words they said,<br />\nWild fury made their eyeballs red.<br />\nTheir answer when the arch-hermit heard,<br />\nHis tranquil eyes with rage were blurred;<br />\nGreat fury in his bosom woke,<br />\nAnd thus unto the youths he spoke:<br />\n“Me, blameless me they dare to blame,<br />\n238This appellation, occuring nowhere else in the poem except as the name of<br />\na city, appears twice in this Canto as a name of Vaśishṭha.<br />\n236<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd disallow the righteous claim<br />\nMy fierce austerities have earned:<br />\nTo ashes be the sinners turned.<br />\nCaught in the noose of Fate shall they<br />\nTo Yáma\'s kingdom sink to-day.<br />\nSeven hundred times shall they be born<br />\nTo wear the clothes the dead have worn.<br />\nDregs of the dregs, too vile to hate,<br />\nThe flesh of dogs their maws shall sate.<br />\nIn hideous form, in loathsome weed,<br />\nA sad existence each shall lead.<br />\nMahodaya too, the fool who fain<br />\nMy stainless life would try to stain,<br />\nStained in the world with long disgrace<br />\nShall sink into a fowler\'s place.<br />\nRejoicing guiltless blood to spill,<br />\nNo pity through his breast shall thrill.<br />\nCursed by my wrath for many a day,<br />\nHis wretched life for sin shall pay.”<br />\nThus, girt with hermit, saint, and priest,<br />\nGreat Viśvámitra spoke—and ceased.<br />\nCanto LX. Trisanku\'s Ascension.<br />\nCanto LX. Trisanku\'s Ascension.<br />\n237<br />\nSo with ascetic might, in ire,<br />\nHe smote the children and the sire.<br />\nThen Viśvámitra, far-renowned,<br />\nAddressed the saints who gathered round:<br />\n“See by my side Triśanku stand,<br />\nIkshváku\'s son, of liberal hand.<br />\nMost virtuous and gentle, he<br />\nSeeks refuge in his woe with me.<br />\nNow, holy men, with me unite,<br />\nAnd order so his purposed rite<br />\nThat in the body he may rise<br />\nAnd win a mansion in the skies.”<br />\nThey heard his speech with ready ear<br />\nAnd, every bosom filled with fear<br />\nOf Viśvámitra, wise and great,<br />\nSpoke each to each in brief debate:<br />\n“The breast of Kuśik\'s son, we know,<br />\nWith furious wrath is quick to glow.<br />\nWhate\'er the words he wills to say,<br />\nWe must, be very sure, obey.<br />\nFierce is our lord as fire, and straight<br />\nMay curse us all infuriate.<br />\nSo let us in these rites engage,<br />\nAs ordered by the holy sage.<br />\nAnd with our best endeavour strive<br />\nThat King Ikshváku\'s son, alive,<br />\nIn body to the skies may go<br />\nBy his great might who wills it so.”<br />\n238<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThen was the rite begun with care:<br />\nAll requisites and means were there:<br />\nAnd glorious Viśvámitra lent<br />\nHis willing aid as president.<br />\nAnd all the sacred rites were done<br />\nBy rule and use, omitting none.<br />\nBy chaplain-priest, the hymns who knew,<br />\nIn decent form and order due.<br />\nSome time in sacrifice had past,<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra made, at last,<br />\nThe solemn offering with the prayer<br />\nThat all the Gods might come and share.<br />\nBut the Immortals, one and all,<br />\nRefused to hear the hermit\'s call.<br />\nThen red with rage his eyeballs blazed:<br />\nThe sacred ladle high he raised,<br />\nAnd cried to King Ikshváku\'s son:<br />\n“Behold my power, by penance won:<br />\nNow by the might my merits lend,<br />\nIkshváku\'s child, to heaven ascend.<br />\nIn living frame the skies attain,<br />\nWhich mortals thus can scarcely gain.<br />\nMy vows austere, so long endured,<br />\nHave, as I ween, some fruit assured.<br />\nUpon its virtue, King, rely,<br />\nAnd in thy body reach the sky.”<br />\nHis speech had scarcely reached its close,<br />\nWhen, as he stood, the sovereign rose,<br />\nAnd mounted swiftly to the skies<br />\nBefore the wondering hermits\' eyes.<br />\nCanto LX. Trisanku\'s Ascension.<br />\n239<br />\nBut Indra, when he saw the king<br />\nHis blissful regions entering,<br />\nWith all the army of the Blest<br />\nThus cried unto the unbidden guest:<br />\n“With thy best speed, Triśanku, flee:<br />\nHere is no home prepared for thee.<br />\nBy thy great master\'s curse brought low,<br />\nGo, falling headlong, earthward go.”<br />\nThus by the Lord of Gods addressed,<br />\nTriśanku fell from fancied rest,<br />\nAnd screaming in his swift descent,<br />\n“O, save me, Hermit!” down he went.<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra heard his cry,<br />\nAnd marked him falling from the sky,<br />\nAnd giving all his passion sway,<br />\nCried out in fury, “Stay, O stay!”<br />\n[072]<br />\nBy penance-power and holy lore,<br />\nLike Him who framed the worlds of yore,<br />\nSeven other saints he fixed on high<br />\nTo star with light the southern sky.<br />\nGirt with his sages forth he went,<br />\nAnd southward in the firmament<br />\nNew wreathed stars prepared to set<br />\nIn many a sparkling coronet.<br />\nHe threatened, blind with rage and hate,<br />\nAnother Indra to create,<br />\nOr, from his throne the ruler hurled,<br />\nAll Indraless to leave the world.<br />\nYea, borne away by passion\'s storm,<br />\nThe sage began new Gods to form.<br />\nBut then each Titan, God, and saint,<br />\nConfused with terror, sick and faint,<br />\nTo high souled Viśvámitra hied,<br />\n240<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd with soft words to soothe him tried:<br />\n“Lord of high destiny, this king,<br />\nTo whom his master\'s curses cling,<br />\nNo heavenly home deserves to gain,<br />\nUnpurified from curse and stain.”<br />\nThe son of Kuśik, undeterred,<br />\nThe pleading of the Immortals heard,<br />\nAnd thus in haughty words expressed<br />\nThe changeless purpose of his breast:<br />\n“Content ye, Gods: I soothly sware<br />\nTriśanku to the skies to bear<br />\nClothed in his body, nor can I<br />\nMy promise cancel or deny.<br />\nEmbodied let the king ascend<br />\nTo life in heaven that ne\'er shall end.<br />\nAnd let these new-made stars of mine<br />\nFirm and secure for ever shine.<br />\nLet these, my work, remain secure<br />\nLong as the earth and heaven endure.<br />\nThis, all ye Gods, I crave: do you<br />\nAllow the boon for which I sue.”<br />\nThen all the Gods their answer made:<br />\n“So be it, Saint, as thou hast prayed.<br />\nBeyond the sun\'s diurnal way<br />\nThy countless stars in heaven shall stay:<br />\nAnd \'mid them hung, as one divine,<br />\nHead downward shall Triśanku shine;<br />\nAnd all thy stars shall ever fling<br />\nTheir rays attendant on the king.”239<br />\n239“The seven ancient rishis or saints, as has been said before, were the seven<br />\nstars of Ursa Major. The seven other new saints which are here said to have<br />\nbeen created by Viśvámitra should be seven new southern stars, a sort of new<br />\nUrsa. Von Schlegel thinks that this mythical fiction of new stars created by<br />\nCanto LXI. Sunahsepha.<br />\n241<br />\nThe mighty saint, with glory crowned,<br />\nWith all the sages compassed round,<br />\nPraised by the Gods, gave full assent,<br />\nAnd Gods and sages homeward went.<br />\nCanto LXI. Sunahsepha.<br />\nThen Viśvámitra, when the Blest<br />\nHad sought their homes of heavenly rest,<br />\nThus, mighty Prince, his counsel laid<br />\nBefore the dwellers of the shade:<br />\n“The southern land where now we are<br />\nOffers this check our rites to bar:240<br />\nTo other regions let us speed,<br />\nAnd ply our tasks from trouble freed.<br />\nNow turn we to the distant west.<br />\nTo Pushkar\'s241wood where hermits rest,<br />\nViśvámitra may signify that these southern stars, unknown to the Indians as<br />\nlong as they remained in the neighbourhood of the Ganges, became known<br />\nto them at a later date when they colonized the southern regions of India.”<br />\nGORRESIO{FNS.<br />\n240“This cannot refer to the events just related: for Viśvámitra was successful<br />\nin the sacrifice performed for Triśanku. And yet no other impediment is<br />\nmentioned. Still his restless mind would not allow him to remain longer in<br />\nthe same spot. So the character of Viśvámitra is ingeniously and skilfully<br />\nshadowed forth: as he had been formerly a most warlike king, loving battle<br />\nand glory, bold, active, sometimes unjust, and more frequently magnanimous,<br />\nsuch also he always shows himself in his character of anchorite and ascetic.”<br />\nSCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\n241Near the modern city of Ajmere. The place is sacred still, and the name is<br />\npreserved in the Hindí. Lassen, however, says that this Pushkala or Pushkara,<br />\ncalled by the Grecian writers Πευκελίτις, the earliest place of pilgrimage<br />\nmentioned by name, is not to be confounded with the modern Pushkara in<br />\nAjmere.<br />\n242<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd there to rites austere apply,<br />\nFor not a grove with that can vie.”<br />\nThe saint, in glory\'s light arrayed,<br />\nIn Pushkar\'s wood his dwelling made,<br />\nAnd living there on roots and fruit<br />\nDid penance stern and resolute.<br />\nThe king who filled Ayodhyá\'s throne,<br />\nBy Ambarísha\'s name far known,<br />\nAt that same time, it chanced, began<br />\nA sacrificial rite to plan.<br />\nBut Indra took by force away<br />\nThe charger that the king would slay.<br />\nThe victim lost, the Bráhman sped<br />\nTo Ambarísha\'s side, and said:<br />\n“Gone is the steed, O King, and this<br />\nIs due to thee, in care remiss.<br />\n[073]<br />\nSuch heedless faults will kings destroy<br />\nWho fail to guard what they enjoy.<br />\nThe flaw is desperate: we need<br />\nThe charger, or a man to bleed.<br />\nQuick! bring a man if not the horse,<br />\nThat so the rite may have its course.”<br />\nCanto LXI. Sunahsepha.<br />\n243<br />\nThe glory of Ikshváku\'s line<br />\nMade offer of a thousand kine,<br />\nAnd sought to buy at lordly price<br />\nA victim for the sacrifice.<br />\nTo many a distant land he drove,<br />\nTo many a people, town, and grove,<br />\nAnd holy shades where hermits rest,<br />\nPursuing still his eager quest.<br />\nAt length on Bhrigu\'s sacred height<br />\nThe saint Richíka met his sight<br />\nSitting beneath the holy boughs.<br />\nHis children near him, and his spouse.<br />\nThe mighty lord drew near, assayed<br />\nTo win his grace, and reverence paid;<br />\nAnd then the sainted king addressed<br />\nThe Bráhman saint with this request:<br />\n“Bought with a hundred thousand kine,<br />\nGive me, O Sage, a son of thine<br />\nTo be a victim in the rite,<br />\nAnd thanks the favour shall requite.<br />\nFor I have roamed all countries round,<br />\nNor sacrificial victim found.<br />\nThen, gentle Hermit, deign to spare<br />\nOne child amid the number there.”<br />\nThen to the monarch\'s speech replied<br />\nThe hermit, penance-glorified:<br />\n“For countless kine, for hills of gold,<br />\nMine eldest son shall ne\'er be sold.”<br />\nBut, when she heard the saint\'s reply,<br />\nThe children\'s mother, standing nigh,<br />\nWords such as these in answer said<br />\nTo Ambarísha, monarch dread:<br />\n244<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n“My lord, the saint, has spoken well:<br />\nHis eldest child he will not sell.<br />\nAnd know, great Monarch, that above<br />\nThe rest my youngest born I love.<br />\n\'Tis ever thus: the father\'s joy<br />\nIs centred in his eldest boy.<br />\nThe mother loves her darling best<br />\nWhom last she rocked upon her breast:<br />\nMy youngest I will ne\'er forsake.”<br />\nAs thus the sire and mother spake,<br />\nYoung Śunahśepha, of the three<br />\nThe midmost, cried unurged and free:<br />\n“My sire withholds his eldest son,<br />\nMy mother keeps her youngest one:<br />\nThen take me with thee, King: I ween<br />\nThe son is sold who comes between.”<br />\nThe king with joy his home resought,<br />\nAnd took the prize his kine had bought.<br />\nHe bade the youth his car ascend,<br />\nAnd hastened back the rites to end.242<br />\nSo the ram caught in<br />\nthe thicket took the place of Isaac, or, as the<br />\nMusalmáns say, of Ishmael.<br />\n242“Ambarísha is the twenty-ninth in descent from Ikshváku, and is there-<br />\nfore separated by an immense space of time from Triśanku in whose story<br />\nViśvámitra had played so important a part. Yet Richíka, who is represented as<br />\nhaving young sons while Ambarísha was yet reigning being himself the son of<br />\nBhrigu and to be numbered with the most ancient sages, is said to have married<br />\nthe younger sister of Viśvámitra. But I need not again remark that there is a<br />\nperpetual anachronism in Indian mythology.” SCHLEGEL.{FNS.<br />\n“In the mythical story related in this and the following Canto we may<br />\ndiscover, I think, some indication of the epoch at which the immolation of<br />\nlower animals was substituted for human sacrifice.… So when Iphigenia was<br />\nabout to be sacrificed at Aulis, one legend tells us that a hind was substituted<br />\nfor the virgin.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\nCanto LXII. Ambarísha\'s Sacrifice.<br />\n245<br />\nCanto LXII. Ambarísha\'s Sacrifice.<br />\nAs thus the king that youth conveyed,<br />\nHis weary steeds at length he stayed<br />\nAt height of noon their rest to take<br />\nUpon the bank of Pushkar\'s lake.<br />\nThere while the king enjoyed repose<br />\nThe captive Śunahśepha rose,<br />\nAnd hasting to the water\'s side<br />\nHis uncle Viśvámitra spied,<br />\nWith many a hermit \'neath the trees<br />\nEngaged in stern austerities.<br />\nDistracted with the toil and thirst,<br />\nWith woeful mien, away he burst,<br />\nSwift to the hermit\'s breast he flew,<br />\nAnd weeping thus began to sue:<br />\n“No sire have I, no mother dear,<br />\nNo kith or kin my heart to cheer:<br />\nAs justice bids, O Hermit, deign<br />\nTo save me from the threatened pain.<br />\nO thou to whom the wretched flee,<br />\nAnd find a saviour, Saint, in thee,<br />\nNow let the king obtain his will,<br />\nAnd me my length of days fulfil,<br />\nThat rites austere I too may share,<br />\nMay rise to heaven and rest me there.<br />\nWith tender soul and gentle brow<br />\nBe guardian of the orphan thou,<br />\nAnd as a father pities, so<br />\nPreserve me from my fear and woe.”<br />\n246<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWhen Viśvámitra, glorious saint,<br />\nHad heard the boy\'s heart-rending plaint.<br />\nHe soothed his grief, his tears he dried,<br />\n[074]<br />\nThen called his sons to him, and cried:<br />\n“The time is come for you to show<br />\nThe duty and the aid bestow<br />\nFor which, regarding future life,<br />\nA man gives children to his wife.<br />\nThis hermit\'s son, whom here you see<br />\nA suppliant, refuge seeks with me.<br />\nO sons, the friendless youth befriend,<br />\nAnd, pleasing me, his life defend.<br />\nFor holy works you all have wrought,<br />\nTrue to the virtuous life I taught.<br />\nGo, and as victims doomed to bleed,<br />\nDie, and Lord Agni\'s hunger feed.<br />\nSo shall the rite completed end,<br />\nThis orphan gain a saving friend,<br />\nDue offerings to the Gods be paid,<br />\nAnd your own father\'s voice obeyed.”<br />\nThen Madhushyand and all the rest<br />\nAnswered their sire with scorn and jest:<br />\n“What! aid to others\' sons afford,<br />\nAnd leave thine own to die, my lord!<br />\nTo us it seems a horrid deed,<br />\nAs \'twere on one\'s own flesh to feed.”<br />\nThe hermit heard his sons\' reply,<br />\nAnd burning rage inflamed his eye.<br />\nThen forth his words of fury burst:<br />\n“Audacious speech, by virtue cursed!<br />\nIt lifts on end each shuddering hair—<br />\nMy charge to scorn! my wrath to dare!<br />\nCanto LXII. Ambarísha\'s Sacrifice.<br />\n247<br />\nYou, like Vaśishṭha\'s evil brood,<br />\nShall make the flesh of dogs your food<br />\nA thousand years in many a birth,<br />\nAnd punished thus shall dwell on earth.”<br />\nThus on his sons his curse he laid.<br />\nThen calmed again that youth dismayed,<br />\nAnd blessed him with his saving aid:<br />\n“When in the sacred fetters bound,<br />\nAnd with a purple garland crowned,<br />\nAt Vishṇu\'s post thou standest tied,<br />\nWith lauds be Agni glorified.<br />\nAnd these two hymns of holy praise<br />\nForget not, Hermit\'s son, to raise<br />\nIn the king\'s rite, and thou shalt be<br />\nLord of thy wish, preserved, and free.”<br />\nHe learnt the hymns with mind intent,<br />\nAnd from the hermit\'s presence went.<br />\nTo Ambarísha thus he spake:<br />\n“Let us our onward journey take.<br />\nHaste to thy home, O King, nor stay<br />\nThe lustral rites with slow delay.”<br />\nThe boy\'s address the monarch cheered,<br />\nAnd soon the sacred ground he neared.<br />\nThe convocation\'s high decree<br />\nDeclared the youth from blemish free;<br />\nClothed in red raiment he was tied<br />\nA victim at the pillar\'s side.<br />\nThere bound, the Fire-God\'s hymn he raised,<br />\nAnd Indra and Upendra praised.<br />\nThousand-eyed Vishṇu, pleased to hear<br />\nThe mystic laud, inclined his ear,<br />\nAnd won by worship, swift to save,<br />\n248<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nLong life to Śunahśepha gave.<br />\nThe king in bounteous measure gained<br />\nThe fruit of sacrifice ordained,<br />\nBy grace of Him who rules the skies,<br />\nLord Indra of the thousand eyes.<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra evermore.<br />\nPursued his task on Pushkar\'s shore<br />\nUntil a thousand years had past<br />\nIn fierce austerity and fast.<br />\nCanto LXIII. Menaká.<br />\nA thousand years had thus flown by<br />\nWhen all the Gods within the sky,<br />\nEager that he the fruit might gain<br />\nOf fervent rite and holy pain,<br />\nApproached the great ascetic, now<br />\nBathed after toil and ended vow.<br />\nThen Brahmá speaking for the rest<br />\nWith sweetest words the sage addressed:<br />\n“Hail, Saint! This high and holy name<br />\nThy rites have won, thy merits claim.”<br />\nCanto LXIII. Menaká.<br />\n249<br />\nThus spoke the Lord whom Gods revere,<br />\nAnd sought again his heavenly sphere.<br />\nBut Viśvámitra, more intent,<br />\nHis mind to sterner penance bent.<br />\nSo many a season rolled away,<br />\nWhen Menaká, fair nymph, one day<br />\nCame down from Paradise to lave<br />\nHer perfect limbs in Pushkar\'s wave,<br />\nThe glorious son of Kuśik saw<br />\nThat peerless shape without a flaw<br />\nFlash through the flood\'s translucent shroud<br />\nLike lightning gleaming through a cloud.<br />\nHe saw her in that lone retreat,<br />\nMost beautiful from head to feet,<br />\nAnd by Kandarpa\'s243might subdued<br />\nHe thus addressed her as he viewed:<br />\n“Welcome, sweet nymph! O deign, I pray,<br />\nIn these calm shades awhile to stay.<br />\nTo me some gracious favour show,<br />\nFor love has set my breast aglow.”<br />\nHe spoke. The fairest of the fair<br />\nMade for awhile her dwelling there,<br />\nWhile day by day the wild delight<br />\nStayed vow austere and fervent rite<br />\nThere as the winsome charmer wove<br />\nHer spells around him in the grove,<br />\nAnd bound him in a golden chain,<br />\nFive sweet years fled, and five again.<br />\nThen Viśvámitra woke to shame,<br />\nAnd, fraught with anguish, memory came<br />\nFor quick he knew, with anger fired,<br />\nThat all the Immortals had conspired<br />\n[075]<br />\n243The Indian Cupid.<br />\n250<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTo lap his careless soul in ease,<br />\nAnd mar his long austerities.<br />\n“Ten years have past, each day and night<br />\nUnheeded in delusive flight.<br />\nSo long my fervent rites were stayed,<br />\nWhile thus I lay by love betrayed.”<br />\nAs thus long sighs the hermit heaved,<br />\nAnd, touched with deep repentance, grieved,<br />\nHe saw the fair one standing nigh<br />\nWith suppliant hands and trembling eye.<br />\nWith gentle words he bade her go,<br />\nThen sought the northern hills of snow.<br />\nWith firm resolve he vowed to beat<br />\nThe might of love beneath his feet.<br />\nStill northward to the distant side<br />\nOf Kauśikí244, the hermit hide,<br />\nAnd gave his life to penance there<br />\nWith rites austere most hard to bear.<br />\nA thousand years went by, and still<br />\nHe laboured on the northern hill<br />\nWith pains so terrible and drear<br />\nThat all the Gods were chilled with fear,<br />\n244“The same as she whose praises Viśvámitra has already sung in Canto<br />\nXXXV, and whom the poet brings yet alive upon the scene in Canto LXI. Her<br />\nproper name was Satyavatí (Truthful); the patronymic, Kauśikí was preserved<br />\nby the river into which she is said to have been changed, and is still recognized<br />\nin the corrupted forms Kuśa and Kuśí. The river flows from the heights of<br />\nthe Himálaya towards the Ganges, bounding on the east the country of Videha<br />\n(Behar). The name is no doubt half hidden in the Cosoagus of Pliny and the<br />\nKossounos of Arrian. But each author has fallen into the same error in his<br />\nenumeration of these rivers (Condochatem, Erannoboam, Cosoagum, Sonum).<br />\nThe Erannoboas, (Hiraṇyaváha) and the Sone are not different streams, but<br />\nwell-known names of the same river. Moreover the order is disturbed, in which<br />\non the right and left they fall into the Ganges. To be consistent with geogra-<br />\nphy it should be written: Erannoboam sive Sonum, Condochatem (Gandakí),<br />\nCosoagum.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\nCanto LXIII. Menaká.<br />\n251<br />\nAnd Gods and saints, for swift advice,<br />\nMet in the halls of Paradise.<br />\n“Let Kuśik\'s son,” they counselled, “be<br />\nA Mighty saint by just decree.”<br />\nHis ear to hear their counsel lent<br />\nThe Sire of worlds, omnipotent.<br />\nTo him enriched by rites severe<br />\nHe spoke in accents sweet to hear:<br />\n“Hail, Mighty Saint! dear son, all hail!<br />\nThy fervour wins, thy toils prevail.<br />\nWon by thy vows and zeal intense<br />\nI give this high preëminence.”<br />\nHe to the General Sire replied,<br />\nNot sad, nor wholly satisfied:<br />\n“When thou, O Brahmá, shalt declare<br />\nThe title, great beyond compare,<br />\nOf Bráhman saint my worthy meed,<br />\nHard earned by many a holy deed,<br />\nThen may I deem in sooth I hold<br />\nEach sense of body well controlled.”<br />\nThen Brahmá cried, “Not yet, not yet:<br />\nToil on awhile O Anchoret!”<br />\n252<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThus having said to heaven he went,<br />\nThe saint, upon his task intent,<br />\nBegan his labours to renew,<br />\nWhich sterner yet and fiercer grew.<br />\nHis arms upraised, without a rest,<br />\nWith but one foot the earth he pressed;<br />\nThe air his food, the hermit stood<br />\nStill as a pillar hewn from wood.<br />\nAround him in the summer days<br />\nFive mighty fires combined to blaze.<br />\nIn floods of rain no veil was spread<br />\nSave clouds, to canopy his head.<br />\nIn the dank dews both night and day<br />\nCouched in the stream the hermit lay.<br />\nThus, till a thousand years had fled,<br />\nHe plied his task of penance dread.<br />\nThen Vishṇu and the Gods with awe<br />\nThe labours of the hermit saw,<br />\nAnd Śakra, in his troubled breast,<br />\nLord of the skies, his fear confessed.<br />\nAnd brooded on a plan to spoil<br />\nThe merits of the hermit\'s toil.<br />\nEncompassed by his Gods of Storm<br />\nHe summoned Rambhá, fair of form,<br />\nAnd spoke a speech for woe and weal,<br />\nThe saint to mar, the God to heal.<br />\nCanto LXIV. Rambhá.<br />\nCanto LXIV. Rambhá.<br />\n253<br />\n“A great emprise, O lovely maid,<br />\nTo save the Gods, awaits thine aid:<br />\nTo bind the son of Kuśik sure,<br />\nAnd take his soul with love\'s sweet lure.”<br />\nThus order\'d by the Thousand-eyed<br />\nThe suppliant nymph in fear replied:<br />\n“O Lord of Gods, this mighty sage<br />\nIs very fierce and swift to rage.<br />\nI doubt not, he so dread and stern<br />\nOn me his scorching wrath will turn.<br />\nOf this, my lord, am I afraid:<br />\nHave mercy on a timid maid.”<br />\nHer suppliant hands began to shake,<br />\nWhen thus again Lord Indra spake:<br />\n“O Rambhá, drive thy fears away,<br />\nAnd as I bid do thou obey.<br />\nIn Koïl\'s form, who takes the heart<br />\nWhen trees in spring to blossom start,<br />\nI, with Kandarpa for my friend,<br />\nClose to thy side mine aid will lend.<br />\n[076]<br />\nDo thou thy beauteous splendour arm<br />\nWith every grace and winsome charm,<br />\nAnd from his awful rites seduce<br />\nThis Kuśik\'s son, the stern recluse.”<br />\nLord Indra ceased. The nymph obeyed:<br />\nIn all her loveliest charms arrayed,<br />\nWith winning ways and witching smile<br />\nShe sought the hermit to beguile.<br />\nThe sweet note of that tuneful bird<br />\nThe saint with ravished bosom heard,<br />\nAnd on his heart a rapture passed<br />\nAs on the nymph a look he cast.<br />\nBut when he heard the bird prolong<br />\n254<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHis sweet incomparable song,<br />\nAnd saw the nymph with winning smile,<br />\nThe hermit\'s heart perceived the wile.<br />\nAnd straight he knew the Thousand-eyed<br />\nA plot against his peace had tried.<br />\nThen Kuśik\'s son indignant laid<br />\nHis curse upon the heavenly maid:<br />\n“Because thou wouldst my soul engage<br />\nWho fight to conquer love and rage,<br />\nStand, till ten thousand years have flown,<br />\nIll-fated maid, transformed to stone.<br />\nA Bráhman then, in glory strong,<br />\nMighty through penance stern and long,<br />\nShall free thee from thine altered shape;<br />\nThou from my curse shalt then escape.”<br />\nBut when the saint had cursed her so,<br />\nHis breast was burnt with fires of woe,<br />\nGrieved that long effort to restrain<br />\nHis mighty wrath was all in vain.<br />\nCursed by the angry sage\'s power,<br />\nShe stood in stone that selfsame hour.<br />\nKandarpa heard the words he said,<br />\nAnd quickly from his presence fled.<br />\nHis fall beneath his passion\'s sway<br />\nHad reft the hermit\'s meed away.<br />\nUnconquered yet his secret foes,<br />\nThe humbled saint refused repose:<br />\n“No more shall rage my bosom till,<br />\nSealed be my lips, my tongue be still.<br />\nMy very breath henceforth I hold<br />\nUntil a thousand years are told:<br />\nVictorious o\'er each erring sense,<br />\nI\'ll dry my frame with abstinence,<br />\nUntil by penance duly done<br />\nCanto LXV. Visvámitra\'s Triumph<br />\n255<br />\nA Bráhman\'s rank be bought and won.<br />\nFor countless years, as still as death,<br />\nI taste no food, I draw no breath,<br />\nAnd as I toil my frame shall stand<br />\nUnharmed by time\'s destroying hand.”<br />\nCanto LXV. Visvámitra\'s Triumph<br />\nThen from Himálaya\'s heights of snow,<br />\nThe glorious saint prepared to go,<br />\nAnd dwelling in the distant east<br />\nHis penance and his toil increased.<br />\nA thousand years his lips he held<br />\nClosed by a vow unparalleled,<br />\nAnd other marvels passing thought,<br />\nUnrivalled in the world, he wrought.<br />\nIn all the thousand years his frame<br />\nDry as a log of wood became.<br />\nBy many a cross and check beset,<br />\nRage had not stormed his bosom yet.<br />\nWith iron will that naught could bend<br />\nHe plied his labour till the end.<br />\nSo when the weary years were o\'er,<br />\nFreed from his vow so stern and sore,<br />\nThe hermit, all his penance sped,<br />\nSate down to eat his meal of bread.<br />\nThen Indra, clad in Bráhman guise,<br />\nAsked him for food with hungry eyes.<br />\nThe mighty saint, with steadfast soul,<br />\nTo the false Bráhman gave the whole,<br />\nAnd when no scrap for him remained,<br />\n256<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nFasting and faint, from speech refrained.<br />\nHis silent vow he would not break:<br />\nNo breath he heaved, no word he spake,<br />\nThen as he checked his breath, behold!<br />\nAround his brow thick smoke-clouds rolled<br />\nAnd the three worlds, as if o\'erspread<br />\nWith ravening flames, were filled with dread.<br />\nThen God and saint and bard, convened,<br />\nAnd Nága lord, and snake, and fiend,<br />\nThus to the General Father cried,<br />\nDistracted, sad, and terrified:<br />\n“Against the hermit, sore assailed,<br />\nLure, scathe, and scorn have naught availed,<br />\nProof against rage and treacherous art<br />\nHe keeps his vow with constant heart.<br />\nNow if his toils assist him naught<br />\nTo gain the boon his soul has sought,<br />\nHe through the worlds will ruin send<br />\nThat fixt and moving things shall end,<br />\nThe regions now are dark with doom,<br />\nNo friendly ray relieves the gloom.<br />\nEach ocean foams with maddened tide,<br />\nThe shrinking hills in fear subside.<br />\nTrembles the earth with feverous throe<br />\nThe wind in fitful tempest blows.<br />\nNo cure we see with troubled eyes:<br />\nAnd atheist brood on earth may rise.<br />\nThe triple world is wild with care,<br />\nOr spiritless in dull despair.<br />\nBefore that saint the sun is dim,<br />\nHis blessed light eclipsed by him.<br />\nNow ere the saint resolve to bring<br />\nDestruction on each living thing,<br />\nLet us appease, while yet we may,<br />\nCanto LXV. Visvámitra\'s Triumph<br />\n257<br />\nHim bright as fire, like fire to slay.<br />\nYea, as the fiery flood of Fate<br />\nLays all creation desolate,<br />\nHe o\'er the conquered Gods may reign:<br />\nO, grant him what he longs to gain.”<br />\n[077]<br />\nThen all the Blest, by Brahmá led,<br />\nApproached the saint and sweetly said:<br />\n“Hail, Bráhman Saint! for such thy place:<br />\nThy vows austere have won our grace.<br />\nA Bráhman\'s rank thy penance stern<br />\nAnd ceaseless labour richly earn.<br />\nI with the Gods of Storm decree<br />\nLong life, O Bráhman Saint, to thee.<br />\nMay peace and joy thy soul possess:<br />\nGo where thou wilt in happiness.”<br />\nThus by the General Sire addressed,<br />\nJoy and high triumph filled his breast.<br />\nHis head in adoration bowed,<br />\nThus spoke he to the Immortal crowd:<br />\n“If I, ye Gods, have gained at last<br />\nBoth length of days and Bráhman caste,<br />\nGrant that the high mysterious name,<br />\nAnd holy Vedas, own my claim,<br />\nAnd that the formula to bless<br />\nThe sacrifice, its lord confess.<br />\nAnd let Vaśishṭha, who excels<br />\nIn Warriors\' art and mystic spells,<br />\nIn love of God without a peer,<br />\nConfirm the boon you promise here.”<br />\n258<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWith Brahmá\'s son Vaśishṭha, best<br />\nOf those who pray with voice repressed,<br />\nThe Gods by earnest prayer prevailed,<br />\nAnd thus his new-made friend he hailed:<br />\n“Thy title now is sure and good<br />\nTo rights of saintly Bráhmanhood.”<br />\nThus spake the sage. The Gods, content,<br />\nBack to their heavenly mansions went.<br />\nAnd Viśvámitra, pious-souled,<br />\nAmong the Bráhman saints enrolled,<br />\nOn reverend Vaśishṭha pressed<br />\nThe honours due to holy guest.<br />\nSuccessful in his high pursuit,<br />\nThe sage, in penance resolute,<br />\nWalked in his pilgrim wanderings o\'er<br />\nThe whole broad land from shore to shore.<br />\n\'Twas thus the saint, O Raghu\'s son,<br />\nHis rank among the Bráhmans won.<br />\nBest of all hermits, Prince, is he;<br />\nIn him incarnate Penance see.<br />\nFriend of the right, who shrinks from ill,<br />\nHeroic powers attend him still.”<br />\nThe Bráhman, versed in ancient lore,<br />\nThus closed his tale, and said no more,<br />\nTo Śatánanda Kuśik\'s son<br />\nCried in delight, Well done! well done!<br />\nThen Janak, at the tale amazed,<br />\nSpoke thus with suppliant hands upraised:<br />\n“High fate is mine, O Sage, I deem,<br />\nAnd thanks I owe for bliss supreme,<br />\nThat thou and Raghu\'s children too<br />\nHave come my sacrifice to view.<br />\nTo look on thee with blessed eyes<br />\nCanto LXVI. Janak\'s Speech.<br />\n259<br />\nExalts my soul and purifies.<br />\nYea, thus to see thee face to face<br />\nEnriches me with store of grace.<br />\nThy holy labours wrought of old,<br />\nAnd mighty penance, fully told,<br />\nRáma and I with great delight<br />\nHave heard, O glorious Anchorite.<br />\nUnrivalled thine ascetic deeds:<br />\nThy might, O Saint, all might exceeds.<br />\nNo thought may scan, no limit bound<br />\nThe virtues that in thee are found.<br />\nThe story of thy wondrous fate<br />\nMy thirsty ears can never sate.<br />\nThe hour of evening rites is near:<br />\nThe sun declines in swift career.<br />\nAt early dawn, O Hermit, deign<br />\nTo let me see thy face again.<br />\nBest of ascetics, part in bliss:<br />\nDo thou thy servant now dismiss.”<br />\nThe saint approved, and glad and kind<br />\nDismissed the king with joyful mind<br />\nAround the sage King Janak went<br />\nWith priests and kinsmen reverent.<br />\nThen Viśvámitra, honoured so,<br />\nBy those high-minded, rose to go,<br />\nAnd with the princes took his way<br />\nTo seek the lodging where they lay.<br />\nCanto LXVI. Janak\'s Speech.<br />\n260<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWith cloudless lustre rose the sun;<br />\nThe king, his morning worship done,<br />\nOrdered his heralds to invite<br />\nThe princes and the anchorite.<br />\nWith honour, as the laws decree,<br />\nThe monarch entertained the three.<br />\nThen to the youths and saintly man<br />\nVideha\'s lord this speech began:<br />\n“O blameless Saint, most welcome thou!<br />\nIf I may please thee tell me how.<br />\nSpeak, mighty lord, whom all revere,<br />\n\'Tis thine to order, mine to hear.”<br />\nThus he on mighty thoughts intent;<br />\nThen thus the sage most eloquent:<br />\n“King Daśaratha\'s sons, this pair<br />\nOf warriors famous everywhere,<br />\nAre come that best of bows to see<br />\nThat lies a treasure stored by thee.<br />\nThis, mighty Janak, deign to show,<br />\nThat they may look upon the bow,<br />\nAnd then, contented, homeward go.”<br />\nThen royal Janak spoke in turn:<br />\n“O best of Saints, the story learn<br />\nWhy this famed bow, a noble prize,<br />\nA treasure in my palace lies.<br />\nA monarch, Devarát by name,<br />\nWho sixth from ancient Nimi came,<br />\nHeld it as ruler of the land,<br />\nA pledge in his successive hand.<br />\nThis bow the mighty Rudra bore<br />\n[078]<br />\nAt Daksha\'s245sacrifice of yore,<br />\n245“Daksha was one of the ancient Progenitors or Prajápatis created by Brah-<br />\nmá. The sacrifice which is here spoken of and in which Śankar or Śiva (called<br />\nCanto LXVI. Janak\'s Speech.<br />\n261<br />\nWhen carnage of the Immortals stained<br />\nThe rite that Daksha had ordained.<br />\nThen as the Gods sore wounded fled,<br />\nVictorious Rudra, mocking, said:<br />\n“Because, O Gods, ye gave me naught<br />\nWhen I my rightful portion sought,<br />\nYour dearest parts I will not spare,<br />\nBut with my bow your frames will tear.”<br />\nThe Sons of Heaven, in wild alarm,<br />\nSoft flatteries tried his rage to charm.<br />\nThen Bhava, Lord whom Gods adore,<br />\nGrew kind and friendly as before,<br />\nAnd every torn and mangled limb<br />\nWas safe and sound restored by him.<br />\nThenceforth this bow, the gem of bows,<br />\nThat freed the God of Gods from foes,<br />\nStored by our great forefathers lay<br />\nA treasure and a pride for aye.<br />\nOnce, as it chanced, I ploughed the ground,<br />\nWhen sudden, \'neath the share was found<br />\nAn infant springing from the earth,<br />\nNamed Sítá from her secret birth.246<br />\nIn strength and grace the maiden grew,<br />\nMy cherished daughter, fair to view.<br />\nalso here Rudra and Bhava) smote the Gods because he had not been invited to<br />\nshare the sacred oblations with them, seems to refer to the origin of the worship<br />\nof Śiva, to its increase and to the struggle it maintained with other older forms<br />\nof worship.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\n246Sítá means a furrow.<br />\n“Great Erectheus swayed,<br />\nThat owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid,<br />\nBut from the teeming furrow took his birth,<br />\nThe mighty offspring of the foodful earth.”<br />\nIliad, Book II.<br />\n262<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nI vowed her, of no mortal birth,<br />\nMeet prize for noblest hero\'s worth.<br />\nIn strength and grace the maiden grew,<br />\nAnd many a monarch came to woo.<br />\nTo all the princely suitors I<br />\nGave, mighty Saint, the same reply:<br />\n“I give not thus my daughter, she<br />\nPrize of heroic worth shall be.247<br />\nTo Míthilá the suitors pressed<br />\nTheir power and might to manifest.<br />\nTo all who came with hearts aglow<br />\nI offered Śiva\'s wondrous bow.<br />\nNot one of all the royal band<br />\nCould raise or take the bow in hand.<br />\nThe suitors\' puny might I spurned,<br />\nAnd back the feeble princes turned.<br />\nEnraged thereat, the warriors met,<br />\nWith force combined my town beset.<br />\nStung to the heart with scorn and shame,<br />\nWith war and threats they madly came,<br />\nBesieged my peaceful walls, and long<br />\nTo Míthilá did grievous wrong.<br />\nThere, wasting all, a year they lay,<br />\nAnd brought my treasures to decay,<br />\nFilling my soul, O Hermit chief,<br />\nWith bitter woe and hopeless grief.<br />\nAt last by long-wrought penance I<br />\nWon favour with the Gods on high,<br />\nWho with my labours well content<br />\nA four-fold host to aid me sent.<br />\nThen swift the baffled heroes fled<br />\nTo all the winds discomfited—<br />\n247“The whole story of Sítá, as will be seen in the course of the poem has a<br />\ngreat analogy with the ancient myth of Proserpine.” GORRESIO{FNS.<br />\nCanto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.<br />\n263<br />\nWrong-doers, with their lords and host,<br />\nAnd all their valour\'s idle boast.<br />\nThis heavenly bow, exceeding bright,<br />\nThese youths shall see, O Anchorite.<br />\nThen if young Ráma\'s hand can string<br />\nThe bow that baffled lord and king,<br />\nTo him I give, as I have sworn,<br />\nMy Sítá, not of woman born.”<br />\nCanto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.<br />\nThen spoke again the great recluse:<br />\n“This mighty bow, O King, produce.”<br />\nKing Janak, at the saint\'s request,<br />\nThis order to his train addressed:<br />\n“Let the great bow be hither borne,<br />\nWhich flowery wreaths and scents adorn.”<br />\nSoon as the monarch\'s words were said,<br />\nHis servants to the city sped,<br />\nFive thousand youths in number, all<br />\nOf manly strength and stature tall,<br />\nThe ponderous eight-wheeled chest that held<br />\nThe heavenly bow, with toil propelled.<br />\nAt length they brought that iron chest,<br />\nAnd thus the godlike king addressed:<br />\n“This best of bows, O lord, we bring,<br />\nRespected by each chief and king,<br />\nAnd place it for these youths to see,<br />\nIf, Sovereign, such thy pleasure be.”<br />\n264<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWith suppliant palm to palm applied<br />\nKing Janak to the strangers cried:<br />\n“This gem of bows, O Bráhman Sage,<br />\nOur race has prized from age to age,<br />\nToo strong for those who yet have reigned,<br />\nThough great in might each nerve they strained.<br />\n[079]<br />\nTitan and fiend its strength defies,<br />\nGod, spirit, minstrel of the skies.<br />\nAnd bard above and snake below<br />\nAre baffled by this glorious bow.<br />\nThen how may human prowess hope<br />\nWith such a bow as this to cope?<br />\nWhat man with valour\'s choicest gift<br />\nThis bow can draw, or string, or lift?<br />\nYet let the princes, holy Seer,<br />\nBehold it: it is present here.”<br />\nThen spoke the hermit pious-souled:<br />\n“Ráma, dear son, the bow behold.”<br />\nThen Ráma at his word unclosed<br />\nThe chest wherein its might reposed,<br />\nThus crying, as he viewed it: “Lo!<br />\nI lay mine hand upon the bow:<br />\nMay happy luck my hope attend<br />\nIts heavenly strength to lift or bend.”<br />\n“Good luck be thine,” the hermit cried:<br />\n“Assay the task!” the king replied.<br />\nThen Raghu\'s son, as if in sport,<br />\nBefore the thousands of the court,<br />\nThe weapon by the middle raised<br />\nThat all the crowd in wonder gazed.<br />\nWith steady arm the string he drew<br />\nTill burst the mighty bow in two.<br />\nAs snapped the bow, an awful clang,<br />\nCanto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.<br />\n265<br />\nLoud as the shriek of tempests, rang.<br />\nThe earth, affrighted, shook amain<br />\nAs when a hill is rent in twain.<br />\nThen, senseless at the fearful sound,<br />\nThe people fell upon the ground:<br />\nNone save the king, the princely pair,<br />\nAnd the great saint, the shock could bear.<br />\nWhen woke to sense the stricken train,<br />\nAnd Janak\'s soul was calm again,<br />\nWith suppliant hands and reverent head,<br />\nThese words, most eloquent, he said:<br />\n“O Saint, Prince Ráma stands alone:<br />\nHis peerless might he well has shown.<br />\nA marvel has the hero wrought<br />\nBeyond belief, surpassing thought.<br />\nMy child, to royal Ráma wed,<br />\nNew glory on our line will shed:<br />\nAnd true my promise will remain<br />\nThat hero\'s worth the bride should gain.<br />\nDearer to me than light and life,<br />\nMy Sítá shall be Ráma\'s wife.<br />\nIf thou, O Bráhman, leave concede,<br />\nMy counsellors, with eager speed,<br />\nBorne in their flying cars, to fair<br />\nAyodhyá\'s town the news shall bear,<br />\nWith courteous message to entreat<br />\nThe king to grace my royal seat.<br />\nThis to the monarch shall they tell,<br />\nThe bride is his who won her well:<br />\nAnd his two sons are resting here<br />\nProtected by the holy seer.<br />\nSo, at his pleasure, let them lead<br />\nThe sovereign to my town with speed.”<br />\n266<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe hermit to his prayer inclined<br />\nAnd Janak, lord of virtuous mind,<br />\nWith charges, to Ayodhyá sent<br />\nHis ministers: and forth they went.<br />\nCanto LXVIII. The Envoys\' Speech.<br />\nThree nights upon the road they passed<br />\nTo rest the steeds that bore them fast,<br />\nAnd reached Ayodhyá\'s town at last.<br />\nThen straight at Daśaratha\'s call<br />\nThey stood within the royal hall,<br />\nWhere, like a God, inspiring awe,<br />\nThe venerable king they saw.<br />\nWith suppliant palm to palm applied,<br />\nAnd all their terror laid aside,<br />\nThey spoke to him upon the throne<br />\nWith modest words, in gentle tone:<br />\n“Janak, Videha\'s king, O Sire,<br />\nHas sent us hither to inquire<br />\nThe health of thee his friend most dear,<br />\nOf all thy priests and every peer.<br />\nNext Kuśik\'s son consenting, thus<br />\nKing Janak speaks, dread liege, by us:<br />\n“I made a promise and decree<br />\nThat valour\'s prize my child should be.<br />\nKings, worthless found in worth\'s assay,<br />\nWith mien dejected turned away.<br />\nThy sons, by Viśvámitra led,<br />\nUnurged, my city visited,<br />\nAnd peerless in their might have gained<br />\nCanto LXVIII. The Envoys\' Speech.<br />\n267<br />\nMy daughter, as my vow ordained.<br />\nFull in a vast assembly\'s view<br />\nThy hero Ráma broke in two<br />\nThe gem of bows, of monstrous size,<br />\nThat came a treasure from the skies.<br />\nOrdained the prize of hero\'s might,<br />\nSítá my child is his by right.<br />\nFain would I keep my promise made,<br />\nIf thou, O King, approve and aid.<br />\nCome to my town thy son to see:<br />\nBring holy guide and priest with thee.<br />\nO lord of kings, my suit allow,<br />\nAnd let me keep my promised vow.<br />\nSo joying for thy children\'s sake<br />\nTheir triumph too shalt thou partake,<br />\nWith Viśvámitra\'s high consent.”<br />\nSuch words with friendship eloquent<br />\nSpoke Janak, fair Videha\'s king,<br />\nBy Śatánanda\'s counselling.”<br />\nThe envoys thus the king addressed,<br />\nAnd mighty joy his heart possessed.<br />\nTo Vámadeva quick he cried,<br />\nVaśishṭha, and his lords beside:<br />\n“Lakshmaṇ, and he, my princely boy<br />\nWho fills Kauśalyá\'s soul with joy,<br />\nBy Viśvámitra guarded well<br />\nAmong the good Videhans dwell.<br />\n[080]<br />\nTheir ruler Janak, prompt to own<br />\nThe peerless might my child has shown,<br />\nTo him would knit in holy ties<br />\nHis daughter, valour\'s lovely prize.<br />\nIf Janak\'s plan seem good to you,<br />\nCome, speed we to his city too,<br />\n268<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nNor let occasion idly by.”<br />\nHe ceased. There came a glad reply<br />\nFrom priest and mighty saint and all<br />\nThe councillors who thronged the hall.<br />\nThen cried the king with joyous heart:<br />\n“To-morrow let us all depart.”<br />\nThat night the envoys entertained<br />\nWith honour and all care remained.<br />\nCanto LXIX. Dasaratha\'s Visit.<br />\nSoon as the shades of night had fled,<br />\nThus to the wise Sumantra said<br />\nThe happy king, while priest and peer,<br />\nEach in his place, were standing near:<br />\n“Let all my treasurers to-day,<br />\nSet foremost in the long array,<br />\nWith gold and precious gems supplied<br />\nIn bounteous store, together ride.<br />\nAnd send you out a mighty force,<br />\nFoot, chariot, elephant, and horse.<br />\nBesides, let many a car of state,<br />\nAnd noblest steeds, my will await.<br />\nVaśishṭha, Vámadeva sage,<br />\nAnd Márkaṇdeya\'s reverend age,<br />\nJáváli, Kaśyap\'s godlike seed,<br />\nAnd wise Kátyáyana, shall lead.<br />\nThy care, Sumantra, let it be<br />\nTo yoke a chariot now for me,<br />\nThat so we part without delay:<br />\nThese envoys hasten me away.”<br />\nCanto LXIX. Dasaratha\'s Visit.<br />\n269<br />\nSo fared he forth. That host, with speed,<br />\nQuadruple, as the king decreed,<br />\nWith priests to head the bright array,<br />\nFollowed the monarch on his way.<br />\nFour days they travelled on the road,<br />\nAnd eve Videha\'s kingdom showed.<br />\nJanak had left his royal seat<br />\nThe venerable king to greet,<br />\nAnd, noblest, with these words addressed<br />\nThat noblest lord, his happy guest:<br />\n“Hail, best of kings: a blessed fate<br />\nHas led thee, Monarch, to my state.<br />\nThy sons, supreme in high emprise,<br />\nWill gladden now their father\'s eyes.<br />\nAnd high my fate, that hither leads<br />\nVaśishṭha, bright with holy deeds,<br />\nGirt with these sages far-renowned,<br />\nLike Indra with the Gods around.<br />\nJoy! joy! for vanquished are my foes:<br />\nJoy! for my house in glory grows,<br />\nWith Raghu\'s noblest sons allied,<br />\nSupreme in strength and valour\'s pride.<br />\nTo-morrow with its early light<br />\nWill shine on my completed rite.<br />\nThen, sanctioned by the saints and thee,<br />\nThe marriage of thy Ráma see.”<br />\nThen Daśaratha, best of those<br />\nWhose speech in graceful order flows,<br />\nWith gathered saints on every side,<br />\nThus to the lord of earth replied:<br />\n“A truth is this I long have known,<br />\nA favour is the giver\'s own.<br />\nWhat thou shalt bid, O good and true,<br />\n270<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWe, as our power permits, will do.”<br />\nThat answer of the truthful lord,<br />\nWith virtuous worth and honour stored,<br />\nJanak, Videha\'s noble king,<br />\nHeard gladly, greatly marvelling.<br />\nWith bosoms filled with pleasure met<br />\nLong-parted saint and anchoret,<br />\nAnd linked in friendship\'s tie they spent<br />\nThe peaceful night in great content.<br />\nRáma and Lakshmaṇ thither sped,<br />\nBy sainted Viśvámitra led,<br />\nAnd bent in filial love to greet<br />\nTheir father, and embraced his feet.<br />\nThe aged king, rejoiced to hear<br />\nAnd see again his children dear,<br />\nHonoured by Janak\'s thoughtful care,<br />\nWith great enjoyment rested there.<br />\nKing Janak, with attentive heed,<br />\nConsulted first his daughters\' need,<br />\nAnd ordered all to speed the rite;<br />\nThen rested also for the night.<br />\nCanto LXX. The Maidens Sought.<br />\nCanto LXX. The Maidens Sought.<br />\n271<br />\nThen with the morn\'s returning sun.<br />\nKing Janak, when his rites were done,<br />\nSkilled all the charms of speech to know,<br />\nSpoke to wise Śatánanda so:<br />\n“My brother, lord of glorious fame,<br />\nMy younger, Kuśadhwaj by name,<br />\nWhose virtuous life has won renown,<br />\nHas settled in a lovely town,<br />\nSánkáśyá, decked with grace divine,<br />\nWhose glories bright as Pushpak\'s shine,<br />\nWhile Ikshumatí rolls her wave<br />\nHer lofty rampart\'s foot to lave.<br />\nHim, holy priest, I long to see:<br />\nThe guardian of my rite is he:<br />\nThat my dear brother may not miss<br />\nA share of mine expected bliss.”<br />\nThus in the presence of the priest<br />\nThe royal Janak spoke, and ceased.<br />\nThen came his henchmen, prompt and brave,<br />\n[081]<br />\nTo whom his charge the monarch gave.<br />\nSoon as they heard his will, in haste<br />\nWith fleetest steeds away they raced,<br />\nTo lead with them that lord of kings,<br />\nAs Indra\'s call Lord Vishṇu brings.<br />\nSánkáśyá\'s walls they duly gained,<br />\nAnd audience of the king obtained.<br />\nTo him they told the news they brought<br />\nOf marvels past and Janak\'s thought.<br />\nSoon as the king the story knew<br />\nFrom those good envoys swift and true,<br />\nTo Janak\'s wish he gave assent,<br />\nAnd swift to Míthilá he went.<br />\nHe paid to Janak reverence due,<br />\n272<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAnd holy Śatánanda too,<br />\nThen sate him on a glorious seat<br />\nFor kings or Gods celestial meet.<br />\nSoon as the brothers, noble pair<br />\nPeerless in might, were seated there,<br />\nThey gave the wise Sudáman, best<br />\nOf councillors, their high behest:<br />\n“Go, noble councillor,” they cried,<br />\n“And hither to our presence guide<br />\nIkshváku\'s son, Ayodhyá\'s lord,<br />\nInvincible by foeman\'s sword,<br />\nWith both his sons, each holy seer,<br />\nAnd every minister and peer.”<br />\nSudáman to the palace flew,<br />\nAnd saw the mighty king who threw<br />\nSplendour on Raghu\'s splendid race,<br />\nThen bowed his head with seemly grace:<br />\n“O King, whose hand Ayodhyá sways,<br />\nMy lord, whom Míthilá obeys,<br />\nYearns with desire, if thou agree,<br />\nThee with thy guide and priest to see.”<br />\nSoon as the councillor had ceased,<br />\nThe king, with saint and peer and priest,<br />\nSought, speeding through the palace gate,<br />\nThe hall where Janak held his state.<br />\nThere, with his nobles round him spread,<br />\nThus to Videha\'s lord be said:<br />\n“Thou knowest, King, whose aid divine<br />\nProtects Ikshváku\'s royal line.<br />\nIn every need, whate\'er befall,<br />\nThe saint Vaśishṭha speaks for all.<br />\nIf Viśvámitra so allow,<br />\nAnd all the saints around me now,<br />\nThe sage will speak, at my desire,<br />\nCanto LXX. The Maidens Sought.<br />\n273<br />\nAs order and the truth require.”<br />\nSoon as the king his lips had stilled,<br />\nUp rose Vaśishṭha, speaker skilled.<br />\nAnd to Videha\'s lord began<br />\nIn flowing words that holy man:<br />\n“From viewless Nature Brahmá rose,<br />\nNo change, no end, no waste he knows.<br />\nA son had he Maríchi styled,<br />\nAnd Kaśyap was Maríchi\'s child.<br />\nFrom him Vivasvat sprang: from him<br />\nManu whose fame shall ne\'er be dim.<br />\nManu, who life to mortals gave,<br />\nBegot Ikshváku good and brave.<br />\nFirst of Ayodhyá\'s kings was he,<br />\nPride of her famous dynasty.<br />\nFrom him the glorious Kukshi sprang,<br />\nWhose fame through all the regions rang.<br />\nRival of Kukshi\'s ancient fame,<br />\nHis heir, the great Vikukshi, came,<br />\nHis son was Váṇa, lord of might;<br />\nHis Anaraṇya, strong to fight.<br />\nHis son was Prithu, glorious name;<br />\nFrom him the good Triśanku came.<br />\nHe left a son renowned afar,<br />\nKnown by the name of Dhundhumár.<br />\nHis son, who drove the mighty car,<br />\nWas Yuvanáśva, feared in war.<br />\nHe passed away. Him followed then<br />\nHis son Mándhátá, king of men.<br />\nHis son was blest in high emprise,<br />\nSusandhi, fortunate and wise.<br />\nTwo noble sons had he, to wit<br />\nDhruvasandhi and Prasenajit.<br />\n274<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nBharat was Dhruvasandhi\'s son,<br />\nAnd glorious fame that monarch won.<br />\nThe warrior Asit he begot.<br />\nAsit had warfare, fierce and hot,<br />\nWith rival kings in many a spot,<br />\nHaihayas, Tálajanghas styled,<br />\nAnd Śaśivindus, strong and wild.<br />\nLong time he strove, but forced to yield<br />\nFled from his kingdom and the field.<br />\nWith his two wives away he fled<br />\nWhere high Himálaya lifts his head,<br />\nAnd, all his wealth and glory past,<br />\nHe paid the dues of Fate at last.<br />\nThe wives he left had both conceived—<br />\nSo is the ancient tale believed—<br />\nOne, of her rival\'s hopes afraid<br />\nFell poison in her viands laid.<br />\nIt chanced that Chyavan, Bhrigu\'s child,<br />\nHad wandered to that pathless wild,<br />\nAnd there Himálaya\'s lovely height<br />\nDetained him with a strange delight.<br />\nThere came the other widowed queen,<br />\nWith lotus eyes and beauteous mien,<br />\nLonging a noble son to bear,<br />\nAnd wooed the saint with earnest prayer.<br />\nWhen thus Kálindi,248fairest dame,<br />\nWith reverent supplication came,<br />\nTo her the holy sage replied:<br />\n“Born with the poison from thy side,<br />\nO happy Queen, shall spring ere long<br />\nAn infant fortunate and strong.<br />\nThen weep no more, and check thy sighs,<br />\n248A different lady from the Goddess of the Jumna who bears the same name.<br />\nCanto LXX. The Maidens Sought.<br />\n275<br />\nSweet lady of the lotus eyes.”<br />\nThe queen, who loved her perished lord,<br />\nFor meet reply, the saint adored,<br />\nAnd, of her husband long bereaved,<br />\nShe bore a son by him conceived.<br />\nBecause her rival mixed the bane<br />\n[082]<br />\nTo render her conception vain,<br />\nAnd fruit unripened to destroy,<br />\nSagar249she called her darling boy.<br />\nTo Sagar Asamanj was heir:<br />\nBright Anśumán his consort bare.<br />\nAnśumán\'s son, Dilípa famed,<br />\nBegot a son Bhagírath named.<br />\nFrom him the great Kakutstha rose:<br />\nFrom him came Raghu, feared by foes,<br />\nOf him sprang Purushádak bold,<br />\nFierce hero of gigantic mould:<br />\nKalmáshapáda\'s name he bore,<br />\nBecause his feet were spotted o\'er.250<br />\nFrom him came Śankaṇ, and from him<br />\nSudarśan, fair in face and limb.<br />\nFrom beautiful Sudarśan came<br />\nPrince Agnivarṇa, bright as flame.<br />\nHis son was Śíghraga, for speed<br />\nUnmatched; and Maru was his seed.<br />\nPraśuśruka was Maru\'s child;<br />\nHis son was Ambarísha styled.<br />\nNahush was Ambarísha\'s heir,<br />\nThe mighty lord of regions fair:<br />\nNahush begot Yayáti: he,<br />\n249This is another fanciful derivation, Sa—with, and gara—poison.<br />\n250Purushádak means a cannibal. First called Kalmáshapáda on account of<br />\nhis spotted feet he is said to have been turned into a cannibal for killing the son<br />\nof Vaśishṭha.<br />\n276<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nNábhág of happy destiny.<br />\nSon of Nábhág was Aja: his,<br />\nThe glorious Daśaratha is,<br />\nWhose noble children boast to be<br />\nRáma and Lakshmaṇ, whom we see.<br />\nThus do those kings of purest race<br />\nTheir lineage from Ikshváku trace:<br />\nTheir hero lives the right maintained,<br />\nTheir lips with falsehood ne\'er were stained.<br />\nIn Ráma\'s and in Lakshmaṇ\'s name<br />\nThy daughters as their wives I claim,<br />\nSo shall in equal bands be tied<br />\nEach peerless youth with peerless bride.”<br />\nCanto LXXI. Janak\'s Pedigree.<br />\nThen to the saint supremely wise<br />\nKing Janak spoke in suppliant guise:<br />\n“Deign, Hermit, with attentive ear,<br />\nMv race\'s origin to hear.<br />\nWhen kings a daughter\'s hand bestow,<br />\n\'Tis right their line and fame to show.<br />\nThere was a king whose deeds and worth<br />\nSpread wide his name through heaven and earth,<br />\nNimi, most virtuous e\'en from youth,<br />\nThe best of all who love the truth.<br />\nHis son and heir was Mithi, and<br />\nHis Janak, first who ruled this land.<br />\nHe left a son Udávasu,<br />\nBlest with all virtues, good and true.<br />\nHis son was Nandivardhan, dear<br />\nCanto LXXI. Janak\'s Pedigree.<br />\n277<br />\nFor pious heart and worth sincere.<br />\nHis son Suketu, hero brave,<br />\nTo Devarát, existence gave.<br />\nKing Devarát, a royal sage,<br />\nFor virtue, glory of the age,<br />\nBegot Vrihadratha; and he<br />\nBegot, his worthy heir to be,<br />\nThe splendid hero Mahábír<br />\nWho long in glory governed here.<br />\nHis son was Sudhriti, a youth<br />\nFirm in his purpose, brave in sooth,<br />\nHis son was Dhrisṭaketu, blest<br />\nWith pious will and holy breast.<br />\nThe fame of royal saint he won:<br />\nHaryaśva was his princely son.<br />\nHaryaśva\'s son was Maru, who<br />\nBegot Pratíndhak, wise and true.<br />\nNext Kírtiratha held the throne,<br />\nHis son, for gentle virtues known.<br />\nThen followed Devamidha, then<br />\nVibudh, Mahándhrak, kings of men.<br />\nMahándhrak\'s son, of boundless might,<br />\nWas Kírtirát, who loved the right.<br />\nHe passed away, a sainted king,<br />\nAnd Maháromá following<br />\nTo Swarṇaromá left the state.<br />\nThen Hraśvaromá, good and great,<br />\nSucceeded, and to him a pair<br />\nOf sons his royal consort bare,<br />\nElder of these I boast to be:<br />\nBrave Kuśadhwaj is next to me.251<br />\n251“In the setting forth of these royal genealogies the Bengal recension varies<br />\nbut slightly from the Northern.<br />\nThe first six names of the genealogy of<br />\nthe Kings of Ayodhyá are partly theogonical and partly cosmogonical; the<br />\n278<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nMe then, the elder of the twain,<br />\nMy sire anointed here to reign.<br />\nHe bade me tend my brother well,<br />\nThen to the forest went to dwell.<br />\nHe sought the heavens, and I sustained<br />\nThe burden as by law ordained,<br />\nAnd noble Kuśadhwaj, the peer<br />\nOf Gods, I ever held most dear.<br />\nThen came Sánkáśyá\'s mighty lord,<br />\nSudhanvá, threatening siege and sword,<br />\nAnd bade me swift on him bestow<br />\nŚiva\'s incomparable bow,<br />\n[083]<br />\nAnd Sítá of the lotus eyes:<br />\nBut I refused each peerless prize.<br />\nThen, host to host, we met the foes,<br />\nAnd fierce the din of battle rose,<br />\nSudhanvá, foremost of his band,<br />\nFell smitten by my single hand.<br />\nWhen thus Sánkáśyá\'s lord was slain,<br />\nI sanctified, as laws ordain,<br />\nMy brother in his stead to reign,<br />\nThus are we brothers, Saint most high<br />\nThe younger he, the elder I.<br />\nNow, mighty Sage, my spirit joys<br />\nTo give these maidens to the boys.<br />\nLet Sítá be to Ráma tied.<br />\nAnd Urmilá be Lakshmaṇ\'s bride.<br />\nFirst give, O King, the gift of cows,<br />\nAs dowry of each royal spouse,<br />\nDue offerings to the spirits pay,<br />\nAnd solemnize the wedding-day.<br />\nother names are no doubt in accordance with tradition and deserve the same<br />\namount of credence as the ancient traditional genealogies of other nations.”<br />\nGORRESIO{FNS.<br />\nCanto LXXII. The Gift Of Kine.<br />\n279<br />\nThe moon tonight, O royal Sage,<br />\nIn Maghá\'s252House takes harbourage;<br />\nOn the third night his rays benign<br />\nIn second Phálguni253will shine:<br />\nBe that the day, with prosperous fate,<br />\nThe nuptial rites to celebrate.”<br />\nCanto LXXII. The Gift Of Kine.<br />\nWhen royal Janak\'s words were done,<br />\nJoined with Vaśishṭha Kuśik\'s son,<br />\nThe mighty sage began his speech:<br />\n“No mind may soar, no thought can reach<br />\nThe glories of Ikshváku\'s line,<br />\nOr, great Videha\'s King, of thine:<br />\nNone in the whole wide world may vie<br />\nWith them in fame and honours high.<br />\nWell matched, I ween, in holy bands,<br />\nThese peerless pairs will join their hands.<br />\nBut hear me as I speak once more;<br />\nThy brother, skilled in duty\'s lore,<br />\nHas at his home a royal pair<br />\nOf daughters most divinely fair.<br />\nI for the hands of these sweet two<br />\nFor Bharat and Śatrughna sue,<br />\nBoth princes of heroic mould,<br />\nWise, fair of form, and lofty-souled.<br />\nAll Daśaratha\'s sons, I ween,<br />\n252The tenth of the lunar asterisms, composed of five stars.<br />\n253There are two lunar asterisms of this name, one following the other<br />\nimmediately, forming the eleventh and twelfth of the lunar mansions.<br />\n280<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOwn each young grace of form and mien:<br />\nBrave as the Gods are they, nor yield<br />\nTo the great Lords the worlds who shield.<br />\nBy these, good Prince of merits high,<br />\nIkshváku\'s house with thine ally.”<br />\nThe suit the holy sage preferred,<br />\nWith willing ear the monarch heard:<br />\nVaśishṭha\'s lips the counsel praised:<br />\nThen spake the king with hands upraised:<br />\n“Now blest indeed my race I deem,<br />\nWhich your high will, O Saints supreme,<br />\nWith Daśaratha\'s house unites<br />\nIn bonds of love and marriage rites.<br />\nSo be it done. My nieces twain<br />\nLet Bharat and Śatrughna gain,<br />\nAnd the four youths the selfsame day<br />\nFour maiden hands in theirs shall lay.<br />\nNo day so lucky may compare,<br />\nFor marriage—so the wise declare—<br />\nWith the last day of Phálguni<br />\nRuled by the genial deity.”<br />\nThen with raised hands in reverence due<br />\nTo those arch-saints he spoke anew:<br />\n“I am your pupil, ever true:<br />\nTo me high favour have ye shown;<br />\nCome, sit ye on my royal throne,<br />\nFor Daśaratha rules these towers<br />\nE\'en as Ayodhyá now is ours.<br />\nDo with your own whate\'er ye choose:<br />\nYour lordship here will none refuse.”<br />\nCanto LXXIII. The Nuptials.<br />\n281<br />\nHe spoke, and to Videha\'s king<br />\nThus Daśaratha, answering:<br />\n“Boundless your virtues, lords, whose sway<br />\nThe realms of Mithilá obey.<br />\nWith honouring care you entertain.<br />\nBoth holy sage and royal train.<br />\nNow to my house my steps I bend—<br />\nMay blessings still on you at end—<br />\nDue offerings to the shades to pay.”<br />\nThus spoke the king, and turned away:<br />\nTo Janak first he bade adieu,<br />\nThen followed fast those holy two.<br />\nThe monarch reached his palace where<br />\nThe rites were paid with solemn care.<br />\nWhen the next sun began to shine<br />\nHe rose and made his gift of kine.<br />\nA hundred thousand cows prepared<br />\nFor each young prince the Bráhmans shared.<br />\nEach had her horns adorned with gold;<br />\nAnd duly was the number told,<br />\nFour hundred thousand perfect tale:<br />\nEach brought a calf, each filled a pail.<br />\nAnd when that glorious task was o\'er,<br />\nThe monarch with his children four,<br />\nShowed like the Lord of Life divine<br />\nWhen the worlds\' guardians round him shine.<br />\n[084]<br />\nCanto LXXIII. The Nuptials.<br />\n282<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nOn that same day that saw the king<br />\nHis gift of kine distributing,<br />\nThe lord of Kekaya\'s son, by name<br />\nYudhájit, Bharat\'s uncle, came,<br />\nAsked of the monarch\'s health, and then<br />\nAddressed the reverend king of men:<br />\n“The lord of Kekaya\'s realm by me<br />\nSends greeting, noble King, to thee:<br />\nAsks if the friends thy prayers would bless<br />\nUninterrupted health possess.<br />\nRight anxious, mighty King, is he<br />\nMy sister\'s princely boy to see.<br />\nFor this I sought Ayodhyá fair<br />\nThe message of my sire to bear.<br />\nThere learning, O my liege, that thou<br />\nWith sons and noble kinsmen now<br />\nWast resting here, I sought the place<br />\nLonging to see my nephew\'s face.”<br />\nThe king with kind observance cheered<br />\nHis friend by tender ties endeared,<br />\nAnd every choicest honour pressed<br />\nUpon his honourable guest.<br />\nThat night with all his children spent,<br />\nAt morn King Daśaratha went,<br />\nBehind Vaśishṭha and the rest,<br />\nTo the fair ground for rites addressed.<br />\nThen when the lucky hour was nigh<br />\nCalled Victory, of omen high,<br />\nCame Ráma, after vow and prayer<br />\nFor nuptial bliss and fortune fair,<br />\nWith the three youths in bright attire,<br />\nAnd stood beside his royal sire.<br />\nTo Janak then Vaśishṭha sped,<br />\nCanto LXXIII. The Nuptials.<br />\n283<br />\nAnd to Videha\'s monarch said:<br />\n“O King, Ayodhyá\'s ruler now<br />\nHas breathed the prayer and vowed the vow,<br />\nAnd with his sons expecting stands<br />\nThe giver of the maidens\' hands.<br />\nThe giver and the taker both<br />\nMust ratify a mutual oath.<br />\nPerform the part for which we wait,<br />\nAnd rites of marriage celebrate.”<br />\nSkilled in the laws which Scriptures teach,<br />\nHe answered thus Vaśishṭha\'s speech:<br />\n“O Saint, what warder bars the gate?<br />\nWhose bidding can the king await?<br />\nIn one\'s own house what doubt is shown?<br />\nThis kingdom, Sage, is all thine own.<br />\nE\'en now the maidens may be found<br />\nWithin the sacrificial ground:<br />\nEach vow is vowed and prayed each prayer,<br />\nAnd they, like fire, are shining there.<br />\nHere by the shrine my place I took<br />\nExpecting thee with eager look,<br />\nNo bar the nuptial rites should stay:<br />\nWhat cause have we for more delay?”<br />\nWhen Janak\'s speech the monarch heard,<br />\nTo sons and saints he gave the word,<br />\nAnd set them in the holy ring,<br />\nThen to Vaśishṭha spoke the king<br />\nOf Mithilá: “O mighty Sage,<br />\nNow let this task thy care engage,<br />\nAnd lend thine aid and counsel wise<br />\nThe nuptial rites to solemnize.”<br />\n284<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThe saint Vaśishṭha gave assent,<br />\nAnd quickly to the task he went,<br />\nWith Viśvámitra, nothing loth,<br />\nAnd Śatánanda aiding both.<br />\nThen, as the rules prescribe, they made<br />\nAn altar in the midst, and laid<br />\nFresh wreaths of fragrant flowers thereon.<br />\nThe golden ladles round it shone;<br />\nAnd many a vase, which branches hid<br />\nFixed in the perforated lid,<br />\nAnd sprays, and cups, and censers there<br />\nStood filled with incense rich and rare;<br />\nShell-bowls, and spoons, and salvers dressed<br />\nWith gifts that greet the honoured guest;<br />\nPiles of parched rice some dishes bore,<br />\nOthers with corn prepared ran o\'er;<br />\nAnd holy grass was duly spread<br />\nIn equal lengths, while prayers were said.<br />\nNext chief of saints, Vaśishṭha came<br />\nAnd laid the offering in the flame.<br />\nThen by the hand King Janak drew<br />\nHis Sítá, beautiful to view,<br />\nAnd placed her, bright in rich attire,<br />\nRáma to face, before the fire,<br />\nThus speaking to the royal boy<br />\nWho filled Kauśalyá\'s heart with joy:<br />\n“Here Sítá stands, my daughter fair,<br />\nThe duties of thy life to share.<br />\nTake from her father, take thy bride;<br />\nJoin hand to hand, and bliss betide!<br />\nA faithful wife, most blest is she,<br />\nAnd as thy shade will follow thee.”<br />\nCanto LXXIII. The Nuptials.<br />\n285<br />\nThus as he spoke the monarch threw<br />\nO\'er her young limbs the holy dew,<br />\nWhile Gods and saints were heard to swell<br />\nThe joyous cry, \'Tis well! \'Tis well!<br />\nHis daughter Sítá thus bestowed,<br />\nO\'er whom the sacred drops had flowed.<br />\nKing Janak\'s heart with rapture glowed.<br />\nThen to Prince Lakshmaṇ thus he cried:<br />\n“Take Urmilá thine offered bride,<br />\nAnd clasp her hand within thine own<br />\nEre yet the lucky hour be flown.”<br />\nThen to Prince Bharat thus cried he;<br />\n“Come, take the hand of Mándavi.”<br />\nThen to Śatrughna: “In thy grasp<br />\nThe hand of Srutakírti clasp.<br />\nNow, Raghu\'s sons, may all of you<br />\nBe gentle to your wives and true;<br />\n[085]<br />\nKeep well the vows you make to-day,<br />\nNor let occasion slip away.”<br />\nKing Janak\'s word the youths obeyed;<br />\nThe maidens\' hands in theirs they laid.<br />\nThen with their brides the princes went<br />\nWith ordered steps and reverent<br />\nRound both the fire and Janak, round<br />\nThe sages and the sacred ground.<br />\nA flowery flood of lucid dyes<br />\nIn rain descended from the skies,<br />\nWhile with celestial voices blent<br />\nSweet strains from many an instrument,<br />\nAnd the nymphs danced in joyous throng<br />\nResponsive to the minstrel\'s song.<br />\nSuch signs of exultation they<br />\n286<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nSaw on the princes\' wedding day.<br />\nStill rang the heavenly music\'s sound<br />\nWhen Raghu\'s sons thrice circled round<br />\nThe fire, each one with reverent head,<br />\nAnd homeward then their brides they led.<br />\nThey to the sumptuous palace hied<br />\nThat Janak\'s care had seen supplied.<br />\nThe monarch girt with saint and peer<br />\nStill fondly gazing followed near.<br />\nCanto LXXIV. Ráma With The Axe.254<br />\nSoon as the night had reached its close<br />\nThe hermit Viśvámitra rose;<br />\nTo both the kings he bade adieu<br />\nAnd to the northern hill withdrew.<br />\nAyodhyá\'s lord of high renown<br />\nReceived farewell, and sought his town.<br />\nThen as each daughter left her bower<br />\nKing Janak gave a splendid dower,<br />\nRugs, precious silks, a warrior force,<br />\nCars, elephants, and foot, and horse,<br />\nDivine to see and well arrayed;<br />\nAnd many a skilful tiring-maid,<br />\nAnd many a young and trusty slave<br />\nThe father of the ladies gave.<br />\n254This is another Ráma, son of Jamadagni, called Paraśuráma, or Ráma with<br />\nthe axe, from the weapon which he carried. He was while he lived the terror of<br />\nthe Warrior caste, and his name recalls long and fierce struggles between the<br />\nsacerdotal and military order in which the latter suffered severely at the hands<br />\nof their implacable enemy.<br />\nCanto LXXIV. Ráma With The Axe.<br />\n287<br />\nSilver and coral, gold and pearls<br />\nHe gave to his beloved girls.<br />\nThese precious gifts the king bestowed<br />\nAnd sped his guest upon his road.<br />\nThe lord of Mithilá\'s sweet town<br />\nRode to his court and lighted down.<br />\nAyodhyá\'s monarch, glad and gay,<br />\nLed by the seers pursued his way<br />\nWith his dear sons of lofty mind:<br />\nThe royal army marched behind.<br />\nAs on he fared the voice he heard<br />\nAround of many a dismal bird,<br />\nAnd every beast in wild affright<br />\nBegan to hurry to the right.<br />\nThe monarch to Vaśishṭha cried:<br />\n“What strange misfortune will betide?<br />\nWhy do the beasts in terror fly,<br />\nAnd birds of evil omen cry?<br />\nWhat is it shakes my heart with dread?<br />\nWhy is my soul disquieted?”<br />\nSoon as he heard, the mighty saint<br />\nThus answered Daśaratha\'s plaint<br />\nIn sweetest tone: “Now, Monarch, mark,<br />\nAnd learn from me the meaning dark.<br />\nThe voices of the birds of air<br />\nGreat peril to the host declare:<br />\nThe moving beasts the dread allay,<br />\nSo drive thy whelming fear away,”<br />\n288<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nAs he and Daśaratha spoke<br />\nA tempest from the welkin broke,<br />\nThat shook the spacious earth amain<br />\nAnd hurled high trees upon the plain.<br />\nThe sun grew dark with murky cloud,<br />\nAnd o\'er the skies was cast a shroud,<br />\nWhile o\'er the army, faint with dread,<br />\nA veil of dust and ashes spread.<br />\nKing, princes, saints their sense retained,<br />\nFear-stupefied the rest remained.<br />\nAt length, their wits returning, all<br />\nBeneath the gloom and ashy pall<br />\nSaw Jamadagni\'s son with dread,<br />\nHis long hair twisted round his head,<br />\nWho, sprung from Bhrigu, loved to beat<br />\nThe proudest kings beneath his feet.<br />\nFirm as Kailása\'s hill he showed,<br />\nFierce as the fire of doom he glowed.<br />\nHis axe upon his shoulder lay,<br />\nHis bow was ready for the fray,<br />\nWith thirsty arrows wont to fly<br />\nLike Lightnings from the angry sky.<br />\nA long keen arrow forth he drew,<br />\nInvincible like those which flew<br />\nFrom Śiva\'s ever-conquering bow<br />\nAnd Tripura in death laid low.<br />\nWhen his wild form, that struck with awe,<br />\nFearful as ravening flame, they saw,<br />\nVaśishṭha and the saints whose care<br />\nWas sacrifice and muttered prayer,<br />\nDrew close together, each to each,<br />\nAnd questioned thus with bated speech:<br />\n“Indignant at his father\'s fate<br />\nCanto LXXV. The Parle.<br />\n289<br />\nWill he on warriors vent his hate,<br />\nThe slayers of his father slay,<br />\nAnd sweep the loathed race away?<br />\nBut when of old his fury raged<br />\nSeas of their blood his wrath assuaged:<br />\n[086]<br />\nSo doubtless now he has not planned<br />\nTo slay all warriors in the land.”<br />\nThen with a gift the saints drew near<br />\nTo Bhrigu\'s son whose look was fear,<br />\nAnd Ráma! Ráma! soft they cried.<br />\nThe gift he took, no word replied.<br />\nThen Bhrigu\'s son his silence broke<br />\nAnd thus to Ráma Ráma spoke:<br />\nCanto LXXV. The Parle.<br />\n“Heroic Ráma, men proclaim<br />\nThe marvels of thy matchless fame,<br />\nAnd I from loud-voiced rumour know<br />\nThe exploit of the broken bow,<br />\nYea, bent and broken, mighty Chief,<br />\nA feat most wondrous, past belief.<br />\nStirred by thy fame thy face I sought:<br />\nA peerless bow I too have brought.<br />\nThis mighty weapon, strong and dire,<br />\nGreat Jamadagni owned, my sire.<br />\nDraw with its shaft my father\'s bow,<br />\nAnd thus thy might, O Ráma, show.<br />\nThis proof of prowess let me see—<br />\nThe weapon bent and drawn by thee;<br />\n290<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nThen single fight our strength shall try,<br />\nAnd this shall raise thy glory high.”<br />\nKing Daśaratha heard with dread<br />\nThe boastful speech, and thus he said;<br />\nRaising his hands in suppliant guise,<br />\nWith pallid cheek and timid eyes:<br />\n“Forgetful of the bloody feud<br />\nAscetic toils hast thou pursued;<br />\nThen, Bráhman, let thy children be<br />\nUntroubled and from danger free.<br />\nSprung of the race of Bhrigu, who<br />\nRead holy lore, to vows most true,<br />\nThou swarest to the Thousand-eyed<br />\nAnd thy fierce axe was cast aside.<br />\nThou turnedst to thy rites away<br />\nLeaving the earth to Kaśyap\'s sway,<br />\nAnd wentest far a grove to seek<br />\nBeneath Mahendra\'s255mountain peak.<br />\nNow, mighty Hermit, art thou here<br />\nTo slay us all with doom severe?<br />\nFor if alone my Ráma fall,<br />\nWe share his fate and perish all.”<br />\n255“TheauthoroftheRaghuvaṅśaplacesthemountainMahendraintheterrito-<br />\nry of the king of the Kalingans, whose palace commanded a view of the ocean.<br />\nIt is well known that the country along the coast to the south of the mouths of<br />\nthe Ganges was the seat of this people. Hence it may be suspected that this<br />\nMahendra is what Pliny calls ‘promontorium Calingon.’ The modern name,<br />\nCape Palmyras, from the palmyras Borassus flabelliformis, which abound<br />\nthere agrees remarkably with the description of the poet who speaks of the<br />\ngroves of these trees. Raghuvaṅśa, VI. 51.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.<br />\nCanto LXXV. The Parle.<br />\n291<br />\nAs thus the aged sire complained<br />\nThe mighty chief no answer deigned.<br />\nTo Ráma only thus he cried:<br />\n“Two bows, the Heavenly Artist\'s pride,<br />\nCelestial, peerless, vast, and strong,<br />\nBy all the worlds were honoured long.<br />\nOne to the Three-eyed God256was given,<br />\nBy glory to the conflict driven,<br />\nThus armed fierce Tripura he slew:<br />\nAnd then by thee \'twas burst in two.<br />\nThe second bow, which few may brave,<br />\nThe highest Gods to Vishṇu gave.<br />\nThis bow I hold; before it fall<br />\nThe foeman\'s fenced tower and wall.<br />\nThen prayed the Gods the Sire Most High<br />\nBy some unerring proof to try<br />\nWere praise for might Lord Vishṇu\'s due,<br />\nOr his whose Neck is stained with Blue.257<br />\nThe mighty Sire their wishes knew,<br />\nAnd he whose lips are ever true<br />\nCaused the two Gods to meet as foes.<br />\nThen fierce the rage of battle rose:<br />\nBristled in dread each starting hair<br />\nAs Śiva strove with Vishṇu there.<br />\nBut Vishṇu raised his voice amain.<br />\nAnd Śiva\'s bowstring twanged in vain;<br />\nIts master of the Three bright Eyes<br />\nStood fixt in fury and surprise.<br />\nThen all the dwellers in the sky,<br />\nMinstrel, and saint, and God drew nigh,<br />\nAnd prayed them that the strife might cease,<br />\nAnd the great rivals met in peace.<br />\n256Śiva.<br />\n257Siva. God of the Azure Neck.<br />\n292<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\n\'Twas seen how Śiva\'s bow has failed<br />\nUnnerved, when Vishṇu\'s might assailed,<br />\nAnd Gods and heavenly sages thence<br />\nTo Vishnu gave preëminence.<br />\nThen glorious Śiva in his rage<br />\nGave it to Devarát the sage<br />\nWho ruled Videha\'s fertile land,<br />\nTo pass it down from hand to hand.<br />\nBut this my bow, whose shafts smite down<br />\nThe foeman\'s fenced tower and town,<br />\nTo great Richíka Vishṇu lent<br />\nTo be a pledge and ornament,<br />\nThen Jamadagni, Bráhman dread,<br />\nMy sire, the bow inherited.<br />\nBut Arjun stooped to treachery vile<br />\nAnd slew my noble sire by guile,<br />\nWhose penance awful strength had gained,<br />\nWhose hand the God-given bow retained.<br />\n[087]<br />\nI heard indignant how he fell<br />\nBy mournful fate, too sad to tell.<br />\nMy vengeful fury since that time<br />\nScourges all Warriors for the crime.<br />\nAs generations spring to life<br />\nI war them down in endless strife.<br />\nAll earth I brought beneath my sway,<br />\nAnd gave it for his meed and pay<br />\nTo holy Kaśyap, when of yore<br />\nThe rites performed by him were o\'er.<br />\nThen to Mahendra\'s hill I turned<br />\nStrong in the strength that penance earned,<br />\nAnd toiled upon his lofty head<br />\nBy Gods immortal visited.<br />\nThe breaking of the bow I knew<br />\nFrom startled Gods conversing, through<br />\nCanto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.<br />\n293<br />\nThe airy regions, of thy deed,<br />\nAnd hither came with swiftest speed.<br />\nNow, for thy Warrior\'s honour sake,<br />\nThis best of bows, O Ráma, take:<br />\nThis, owned by Vishṇu\'s self of old,<br />\nMy sire and grandsire loved to hold.<br />\nDrawn to its head upon the string,<br />\nOne town-destroying arrow bring;<br />\nIf this thou can, O hero, I<br />\nIn single fight thy strength will try.”<br />\nCanto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.<br />\nThe haughty challenge, undeterred<br />\nThe son of Daśaratha heard,<br />\nAnd cried, while reverence for his sire<br />\nChecked the full torrent of his ire:<br />\n“Before this day have I been told<br />\nThe deed that stained thy hands of old.<br />\nBut pity bids my soul forget:<br />\nThy father, murdered, claimed the debt.<br />\nMy strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight,<br />\nToo feeble for a Warrior\'s might.<br />\nNow will I show thy wondering eyes<br />\nThe prowess which they dare despise.”<br />\n294<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHe hastened then with graceful ease<br />\nThat mighty bow and shaft to seize.<br />\nHis hand the weapon strung and swayed:<br />\nThe arrow on the string was laid.<br />\nThen Jamadagni\'s son he eyed,<br />\nAnd thus in words of fury cried:<br />\n“Thou art a Bráhman, still to be<br />\nMost highly honoured, Chief, by me.<br />\nFor Viśvámitra\'s sake beside<br />\nShall reverence due be ne\'er denied.<br />\nThough mine the power, I would not send<br />\nA dart at thee thy life to end.<br />\nBut thy great power to wander free,<br />\nWhich penance-rites have won for thee,<br />\nOr glorious worlds from thee to wrest,<br />\nIs the firm purpose of my breast,<br />\nAnd Vishṇu\'s dart which now I strain<br />\nCan ne\'er be shot to fall in vain:<br />\nIt strikes the mighty, and it stuns<br />\nThe madness of the haughty ones.”<br />\nThen Gods, and saints and heavenly choir<br />\nPreceded by the General Sire,<br />\nMet in the air and gazed below<br />\nOn Ráma with that wondrous bow.<br />\nNymph, minstrel, angel, all were there,<br />\nSnake-God, and spirit of the air,<br />\nGiant, and bard, and gryphon, met,<br />\nTheir eyes upon the marvel set.<br />\nIn senseless hush the world was chained<br />\nWhile Ráma\'s hand the bow retained,<br />\nAnd Jamadagni\'s son amazed<br />\nAnd powerless on the hero gazed.<br />\nThen when his swelling heart had shrunk,<br />\nCanto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.<br />\n295<br />\nAnd his proud strength in torpor sunk,<br />\nScarce his voice ventured, low and weak,<br />\nTo Ráma lotus-eyed, to speak:<br />\n“When long ago I gave away<br />\nThe whole broad land to Kaśyap\'s sway<br />\nHe charged me never to remain<br />\nWithin the limits of his reign.<br />\nObedient to my guide\'s behest<br />\nOn earth by night I never rest.<br />\nMy choice is made, I will not dim<br />\nMine honour and be false to him.<br />\nSo, son of Raghu, leave me still<br />\nThe power to wander where I will,<br />\nAnd swifter than the thought my flight<br />\nShall place me on Mahendra\'s height.<br />\nMy mansions of eternal joy,<br />\nBy penance won, thou mayst destroy,<br />\nMy path to these thy shaft may stay.<br />\nNow to the work! No more delay!<br />\nI know thee Lord of Gods; I know<br />\nThy changeless might laid Madhu low.<br />\nAll other hands would surely fail<br />\nTo bend this bow. All hail! all hail!<br />\nSee! all the Gods have left the skies<br />\nTo bend on thee their eager eyes,<br />\nWith whose achievements none compete,<br />\nWhose arm in war no God can meet.<br />\nNo shame is mine, I ween, for thou,<br />\nLord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow.<br />\nNow, pious Ráma, \'tis thy part<br />\nTo shoot afar that glorious dart:<br />\nI, when the fatal shaft is shot,<br />\nWill seek that hill and tarry not.”<br />\n296<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nHe ceased. The wondrous arrow flew,<br />\nAnd Jamadagni\'s offspring knew<br />\nThose glorious worlds to him were barred,<br />\nOnce gained by penance long and hard.<br />\nThen straight the airy quarters cleared,<br />\nAnd the mid regions bright appeared,<br />\nWhile Gods and saints unnumbered praised<br />\nRáma, the mighty bow who raised.<br />\nAnd Jamadagni\'s son, o\'erawed.<br />\nExtolled his name with highest laud,<br />\n[088]<br />\nWith reverent steps around him strode,<br />\nThen hastened on his airy road.<br />\nFar from the sight of all he fled,<br />\nAnd rested on Mahendra\'s head.<br />\nCanto LXXVII. Bharat\'s Departure.<br />\nThen Ráma with a cheerful mind<br />\nThe bow to Varuṇ\'s hand resigned.<br />\nDue reverence to the saints he paid,<br />\nAnd thus addressed his sire dismayed:<br />\n“As Bhrigu\'s son is far from view,<br />\nNow let the host its march pursue,<br />\nAnd to Ayodhyá\'s town proceed<br />\nIn four-fold bands, with thee to lead.”<br />\nCanto LXXVII. Bharat\'s Departure.<br />\n297<br />\nKing Daśaratha thus addressed<br />\nHis lips to Ráma\'s forehead pressed,<br />\nAnd held him to his aged breast.<br />\nRejoiced in sooth was he to know<br />\nThat Bhrigu\'s son had parted so,<br />\nAnd hailed a second life begun<br />\nFor him and his victorious son.<br />\nHe urged the host to speed renewed,<br />\nAnd soon Ayodhyá\'s gates he viewed.<br />\nHigh o\'er the roofs gay pennons played;<br />\nTabour and drum loud music made;<br />\nFresh water cooled the royal road,<br />\nAnd flowers in bright profusion glowed.<br />\nGlad crowds with garlands thronged the ways<br />\nRejoicing on their king to gaze<br />\nAnd all the town was bright and gay<br />\nExalting in the festive day.<br />\nPeople and Bráhmans flocked to meet<br />\nTheir monarch ere he gained the street.<br />\nThe glorious king amid the throng<br />\nRode with his glorious sons along,<br />\nAnd passed within his dear abode<br />\nThat like Himálaya\'s mountain showed.<br />\nAnd there Kauśalyá, noble queen,<br />\nSumitrá with her lovely mien,<br />\nKaikeyí of the dainty waist,<br />\nAnd other dames his bowers who graced,<br />\nStood in the palace side by side<br />\nAnd welcomed home each youthful bride:<br />\nFair Sítá, lofty-fated dame,<br />\nUrmilá of the glorious fame,<br />\nAnd Kuśadhwaj\'s children fair,<br />\nWith joyous greeting and with prayer,<br />\nAs all in linen robes arrayed<br />\n298<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWith offerings at the altars prayed.<br />\nDue reverence paid to God above,<br />\nEach princess gave her soul to love,<br />\nAnd hidden in her inmost bower<br />\nPassed with her lord each blissful hour.<br />\nThe royal youths, of spirit high,<br />\nWith whom in valor none could vie,<br />\nLived each within his palace bounds<br />\nBright as Kuvera\'s pleasure-grounds,<br />\nWith riches, troops of faithful friends,<br />\nAnd bliss that wedded life attends:<br />\nBrave princes trained in warlike skill,<br />\nAnd duteous to their father\'s will.<br />\nAt length the monarch called one morn<br />\nPrince Bharat, of Kaikeyí born,<br />\nAnd cried: “My son, within our gates<br />\nLord Yudhájit thine uncle waits.<br />\nThe son of Kekaya\'s king is he,<br />\nAnd came, my child, to summon thee.”<br />\nThen Bharat for the road prepared,<br />\nAnd with Śatrughna forth he fared.<br />\nFirst to his sire he bade adieu,<br />\nBrave Ráma, and his mothers too.<br />\nLord Yudhájit with joyful pride<br />\nWent forth, the brothers by his side,<br />\nAnd reached the city where he dwelt:<br />\nAnd mighty joy his father felt.<br />\nCanto LXXVII. Bharat\'s Departure.<br />\n299<br />\nRáma and Lakshmaṇ honoured still<br />\nTheir godlike sire with duteous will.<br />\nTwo constant guides for Ráma stood,<br />\nHis father\'s wish, the people\'s good.<br />\nAttentive to the general weal<br />\nHe thought and wrought to please and heal.<br />\nHis mothers too he strove to please<br />\nWith love and sonly courtesies.<br />\nAt every time, in every spot,<br />\nHis holy guides he ne\'er forgot.<br />\nSo for his virtues kind and true<br />\nDearer and dearer Ráma grew<br />\nTo Daśaratha, Bráhmans, all<br />\nIn town and country, great and small.<br />\nAnd Ráma by his darling\'s side<br />\nSaw many a blissful season glide,<br />\nLodged in her soul, each thought on her,<br />\nLover, and friend, and worshipper.<br />\nHe loved her for his father\'s voice<br />\nHad given her and approved the choice:<br />\nHe loved her for each charm she wore<br />\nAnd her sweet virtues more and more.<br />\nSo he her lord and second life<br />\nDwelt in the bosom of his wife,<br />\nIn double form, that, e\'en apart,<br />\nEach heart could commune free with heart.<br />\nStill grew that child of Janak\'s race,<br />\nMore goddess-fair in form and face,<br />\nThe loveliest wife that e\'er was seen,<br />\nIn mortal mould sweet Beauty\'s Queen.<br />\nThen shone the son Kauśalyá bore,<br />\nWith this bright dame allied,<br />\nLike Vishṇu whom the Gods adore,<br />\n300<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nWith Lakshmi by his side.<br />\n[089]<br />\nBOOK II.<br />\nCanto I. The Heir Apparent.<br />\nSo Bharat to his grandsire went<br />\nObedient to the message sent,<br />\nAnd for his fond companion chose<br />\nŚatrughna slayer of his foes.258<br />\nThere Bharat for a time remained<br />\nWith love and honour entertained,<br />\nKing Aśvapati\'s constant care,<br />\nBeloved as a son and heir.<br />\nYet ever, as they lived at ease,<br />\nWhile all around combined to please,<br />\nThe aged sire they left behind<br />\nWas present to each hero\'s mind.<br />\nNor could the king\'s fond memory stray<br />\nFrom his brave children far away,<br />\nDear Bharat and Śatrughna dear,<br />\nEach Varuṇ\'s match or Indra\'s peer.<br />\n258Śatrughna means slayer of foes, and the word is repeated as an intensive<br />\nepithet.<br />\n302<br />\nThe Ramayana<br />\nTo all the princes, young and brave,<br />\nHis soul with fond affection clave;<br />\nAround his loving heart they clung<br />\nLike arms from his own body sprung.259<br />\nBut best and noblest of the four,<br />\nGood as the God whom all adore,<br />\nLord of all virtues, undefiled,<br />\nHis darling was his eldest child.<br />\nFor he was beautiful and strong,<br />\nFrom envy free, the foe of wrong,<br />\nWith all his father\'s virtues blest,<br />\nAnd peerless in the world confessed.<br />\nWith placid soul he softly spoke:<br />\nNo harsh reply could taunts provoke.<br />\nHe ever loved the good and sage<br />\nRevered for virtue and for age,<br />\nAnd when his martial tasks were o\'er<br />\nSate listening to their peaceful lore.<br />\nWise, modest, pure, he honoured eld,<br />\nHis lips from lying tales withheld;<br />\nDue reverence to the Bráhmans gave,<br />\nAnd ruled each passion like a slave.<br />\nMost tender, prompt at duty\'s call,<br />\nLoved by all men he loved them all.<br />\nProud of the duties of his race,<br />\nWith spirit meet for Warrior\'s place.<br />\nHe strove to win by glorious deed,<br />\nThroned with the Gods, a priceless meed.<br />\nWith him in speech and quick reply<br />\nVrihaspati might hardly vie,<br />\nBut never would his accents flow<br />\nFor evil or for empty show.<br />\n259Alluding to the images of Vishṇu, which have four arms, the four princes<br />\nbeing portions of the substance of that God.<br />\nCanto I. 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148The Rákshas or giant Rávaṇ, king of Lanká.
149“ThemeaningofAśvins(fromaśvaahorse, Persianasp, Greekἵππος,Latin
equus, Welsh ech) is Horsemen. They were twin deities of whom frequent
mention is made in the Vedas and the Indian myths. The Aśvins have much
in common with the Dioscuri of Greece, and their mythical genealogy seems
to indicate that their origin was astronomical. They were, perhaps, at first the
morning star and evening star. They are said to be the children of the sun and
the nymph Aśviní, who is one of the lunar asterisms personified. In the popular
mythology they are regarded as the physicians of the Gods.” GORRESIO{FNS.
150The word Kumára (a young prince, a Childe) is also a proper name of
Skanda or Kártikeya God of War, the son of Śiva and Umá. The babe was
matured in the fire.
Canto XXIV. The Spells.
119
Nor let the occasion slip away.
Lo, with two spells I thee invest,
The mighty and the mightiest.
O'er thee fatigue shall ne'er prevail,
Nor age or change thy limbs assail.
Thee powers of darkness ne'er shall smite
In tranquil sleep or wild delight.
No one is there in all the land
Thine equal for the vigorous hand.
[037]
Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell,
Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell.
None in the world with thee shall vie,
O sinless one, in apt reply,
In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact,
Wisdom to plan and skill to act.
This double science take, and gain
Glory that shall for aye remain.
Wisdom and judgment spring from each
Of these fair spells whose use I teach.
Hunger and thirst unknown to thee,
High in the worlds thy rank shall be.
For these two spells with might endued,
Are the Great Father's heavenly brood,
And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace,
Thou glory of Kakutstha's race.
Virtues which none can match are thine,
Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine,
And now these spells of might shall cast
Fresh radiance o'er the gifts thou hast.”
Then Ráma duly touched the wave,
Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head,
And took the spells the hermit gave,
Whose soul on contemplation fed.
From him whose might these gifts enhanced,
120
The Ramayana
A brighter beam of glory glanced:
So shines in all his autumn blaze
The Day-God of the thousand rays.
The hermit's wants those youths supplied,
As pupils use to holy guide.
And then the night in sweet content
On Sarjú's pleasant bank they spent.
Canto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love.
Soon as appeared the morning light
Up rose the mighty anchorite,
And thus to youthful Ráma said,
Who lay upon his leafy bed:
“High fate is hers who calls thee son:
Arise, 'tis break of day;
Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done
Due at the morning's ray.”151
At that great sage's high behest
Up sprang the princely pair,
To bathing rites themselves addressed,
And breathed the holiest prayer.
Their morning task completed, they
To Viśvámitra came
That store of holy works, to pay
The worship saints may claim.
Then to the hallowed spot they went
151“At the rising of the sun as well as at noon certain observances, invocations,
and prayers were prescribed which might under no circumstances be omitted.
One of these observances was the recitation of the Sávitrí, a Vedic hymn to the
Sun of wonderful beauty.” GORRESIO{FNS.
Canto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love.
121
Along fair Sarjú's side
Where mix her waters confluent
With three-pathed Gangá's tide.152
There was a sacred hermitage
Where saints devout of mind
Their lives through many a lengthened age
To penance had resigned.
That pure abode the princes eyed
With unrestrained delight,
And thus unto the saint they cried,
Rejoicing at the sight:
“Whose is that hermitage we see?
Who makes his dwelling there?
Full of desire to hear are we:
O Saint, the truth declare.”
The hermit smiling made reply
To the two boys' request:
“Hear, Ráma, who in days gone by
This calm retreat possessed.
Kandarpa in apparent form,
Called Káma153by the wise,
Dared Umá's154new-wed lord to storm
And make the God his prize.
'Gainst Stháṇu's155self, on rites austere
152Tripathaga, Three-path-go, flowing in heaven, on earth, and under the
earth. See Canto XLV.
153Tennyson's “Indian Cama,” the God of Love, known also by many other
names.
154Umá, or Parvatí, was daughter of Himálaya, Monarch of mountains, and
wife of Śiva. See Kálidasa's Kumára Sambhava, or Birth of the War-God.
155Stháṇu. The Unmoving one, a name of Śiva.
122
The Ramayana
And vows intent,156they say,
His bold rash hand he dared to rear,
Though Stháṇu cried, Away!
But the God's eye with scornful glare
Fell terrible on him.
Dissolved the shape that was so fair
[038]
And burnt up every limb.
Since the great God's terrific rage
Destroyed his form and frame,
Káma in each succeeding age
Has borne Ananga's157name.
So, where his lovely form decayed,
This land is Anga styled:
Sacred to him of old this shade,
And hermits undefiled.
Here Scripture-talking elders sway
Each sense with firm control,
And penance-rites have washed away
All sin from every soul.
One night, fair boy, we here will spend,
A pure stream on each hand,
And with to-morrow's light will bend
Our steps to yonder strand.
Here let us bathe, and free from stain
To that pure grove repair,
156“The practice of austerities, voluntary tortures, and mortifications was
anciently universal in India, and was held by the Indians to be of immense
efficacy. Hence they mortified themselves to expiate sins, to acquire merits,
and to obtain superhuman gifts and powers; the Gods themselves sometimes
exercised themselves in such austerities, either to raise themselves to greater
power and grandeur, or to counteract the austerities of man which threatened
to prevail over them and to deprive them of heaven.… Such austerities were
called in India tapas (burning ardour, fervent devotion) and he who practised
them tapasvin.” GORRESIO{FNS.
157The Bodiless one.
Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.
123
Sacred to Káma, and remain
One night in comfort there.”
With penance' far-discerning eye
The saintly men beheld
Their coming, and with transport high
Each holy bosom swelled.
To Kuśik's son the gift they gave
That honoured guest should greet,
Water they brought his feet to lave,
And showed him honor meet.
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ next obtained
In due degree their share.
Then with sweet talk the guests remained,
And charmed each listener there.
The evening prayers were duly said
With voices calm and low:
Then on the ground each laid his head
And slept till morning's glow.
Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.
When the fair light of morning rose
The princely tamers of their foes
Followed, his morning worship o'er,
The hermit to the river's shore.
The high-souled men with thoughtful care
A pretty barge had stationed there.
All cried, “O lord, this barge ascend,
And with thy princely followers bend
To yonder side thy prosperous way
With naught to check thee or delay.”
124
The Ramayana
Nor did the saint their rede reject:
He bade farewell with due respect,
And crossed, attended by the twain,
That river rushing to the main.
When now the bark was half way o'er,
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ heard the roar,
That louder grew and louder yet,
Of waves by dashing waters met.
Then Ráma asked the mighty seer:
“What is the tumult that I hear
Of waters cleft in mid career?”
Soon as the speech of Ráma, stirred
By deep desire to know, he heard,
The pious saint began to tell
What paused the waters' roar and swell:
“On high Kailása's distant hill
There lies a noble lake
Whose waters, born from Brahmá's will,
The name of Mánas158take.
Thence, hallowing where'er they flow,
The streams of Sarjú fall,
And wandering through the plains below
Embrace Ayodhyá's wall.
Still, still preserved in Sarjú's name
Sarovar's159fame we trace.
The flood of Brahma whence she came
158“A celebrated lake regarded in India as sacred. It lies in the lofty region
betweenthenorthernhighlandsoftheHimálayasandmountKailása, theregion
of the sacred lakes. The poem, following the popular Indian belief, makes
the river Sarayú (now Sarjú) flow from the Mánasa lake; the sources of the
river are a little to the south about a day's journey from the lake. See Lassen,
Indische Alterthumshunde, page 34.” GORRESIO{FNS. Manas means mind;
mánasa, mental, mind-born.
159Sarovar means best of lakes. This is another of the poet's fanciful etymolo-
gies.
Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.
125
To run her holy race.
To meet great Gangá here she hies
With tributary wave:
Hence the loud roar ye hear arise,
Of floods that swell and rave.
Here, pride of Raghu's line, do thou
In humble adoration bow.”
He spoke. The princes both obeyed,
And reverence to each river paid.160
They reached the southern shore at last,
And gaily on their journey passed.
A little space beyond there stood
A gloomy awe-inspiring wood.
The monarch's noble son began
To question thus the holy man:
“Whose gloomy forest meets mine eye
Like some vast cloud that fills the sky?
Pathless and dark it seems to be,
Where birds in thousands wander free;
Where shrill cicadas' cries resound,
[039]
And fowl of dismal note abound.
Lion, rhinoceros, and bear,
Boar, tiger, elephant, are there,
There shrubs and thorns run wild:
Dháo, Sál, Bignonia, Bel,161are found,
And every tree that grows on ground.
How is the forest styled?”
160Theconfluenceoftwoormoreriversisoftenaveneratedandholyplace. The
most famous is Prayág or Allahabad, where the Sarasvatí by an underground
course is believed to join the Jumna and the Ganges.
161The botanical names of the trees mentioned in the text are Grislea Tormen-
tosa, Shorea Robusta, Echites Antidysenterica, Bignonia Suaveolens, Œgle
Marmelos, and Diospyrus Glutinosa. I have omitted the Kutaja (Echites) and
the Tiṇḍuka (Diospyrus).
126
The Ramayana
The glorious saint this answer made:
“Dear child of Raghu, hear
Who dwells within the horrid shade
That looks so dark and drear.
Where now is wood, long ere this day
Two broad and fertile lands,
Malaja and Karúsha lay,
Adorned by heavenly hands.
Here, mourning friendship's broken ties,
Lord Indra of the thousand eyes
Hungered and sorrowed many a day,
His brightness soiled with mud and clay,
When in a storm of passion he
Had slain his dear friend Namuchi.
Then came the Gods and saints who bore
Their golden pitchers brimming o'er
With holy streams that banish stain,
And bathed Lord Indra pure again.
When in this land the God was freed
From spot and stain of impious deed
For that his own dear friend he slew,
High transport thrilled his bosom through.
Then in his joy the lands he blessed,
And gave a boon they long possessed:
“Because these fertile lands retain
The washings of the blot and stain,”
'Twas thus Lord Indra sware,
“Malaja and Karúsha's name
Shall celebrate with deathless fame
My malady and care.”162
162Here we meet with a fresh myth to account for the name of these regions.
Malaja is probably a non-Aryan word signifying a hilly country: taken as
a Sanskrit compound it means sprung from defilement. The word Karúsha
appears to have a somewhat similar meaning.
Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.
127
“So be it,” all the Immortals cried,
When Indra's speech they heard,
And with acclaim they ratified
The names his lips conferred.
Long time, O victor of thy foes,
These happy lands had sweet repose,
And higher still in fortune rose.
At length a spirit, loving ill,
Táḍaká, wearing shapes at will,
Whose mighty strength, exceeding vast,
A thousand elephants, surpassed,
Was to fierce Sunda, lord and head
Of all the demon armies, wed.
From her, Lord Indra's peer in might
Giant Márícha sprang to light:
And she, a constant plague and pest,
These two fair realms has long distressed.
Now dwelling in her dark abode
A league away she bars the road:
And we, O Ráma, hence must go
Where lies the forest of the foe.
Now on thine own right arm rely,
And my command obey:
Smite the foul monster that she die,
And take the plague away.
To reach this country none may dare
Fallen from its old estate,
Which she, whose fury naught can bear,
Has left so desolate.
And now my truthful tale is told
How with accursed sway
The spirit plagued this wood of old,
And ceases not to-day.”
128
The Ramayana
Canto XXVII. The Birth Of Tádaká.
When thus the sage without a peer
Had closed that story strange to hear,
Ráma again the saint addressed
To set one lingering doubt at rest:
“O holy man, 'tis said by all
That spirits' strength is weak and small:
How can she match, of power so slight,
A thousand elephants in might?”
And Viśvámitra thus replied
To Raghu's son the glorified:
“Listen, and I will tell thee how
She gained the strength that arms her now.
A mighty spirit lived of yore;
Suketu was the name he bore.
Childless was he, and free from crime
In rites austere he passed his time.
The mighty Sire was pleased to show
His favour, and a child bestow.
Táḍaká named, most fair to see,
A pearl among the maids was she,
And matched, for such was Brahmá's dower,
A thousand elephants in power.
Nor would the Eternal Sire, although
The spirit longed, a son bestow
That maid in beauty's youthful pride
Was given to Sunda for a bride.
Her son, Márícha was his name,
A giant, through a curse, became.
She, widowed, dared with him molest
[040]
Canto XXVII. The Birth Of Tádaká.
129
Agastya,163of all saints the best.
Inflamed with hunger's wildest rage,
Roaring she rushed upon the sage.
When the great hermit saw her near,
On speeding in her fierce career,
He thus pronounced Márícha's doom:
“A giant's form and shape assume.”
And then, by mighty anger swayed,
On Táḍaká this curse he laid:
“Thy present form and semblance quit,
And wear a shape thy mood to fit;
Changed form and feature by my ban,
A fearful thing that feeds on man.”
She, by his awful curse possessed,
And mad with rage that fills her breast,
Has on this land her fury dealt
Where once the saint Agastya dwelt.
Go, Ráma, smite this monster dead,
The wicked plague, of power so dread,
And further by this deed of thine
The good of Bráhmans and of kine.
Thy hand alone can overthrow,
In all the worlds, this impious foe.
Nor let compassion lead thy mind
To shrink from blood of womankind;
A monarch's son must ever count
The people's welfare paramount,
And whether pain or joy he deal
163“This is one of those indefinable mythic personages who are found in the
ancient traditions of many nations, and in whom cosmogonical or astronomical
notions are generally figured. Thus it is related of Agastya that the Vindhyan
mountains prostrated themselves before him; and yet the same Agastya is
believed to be regent of the star Canopus.” GORRESIO{FNS.
He will appear as the friend and helper of Ráma farther on in the poem.
130
The Ramayana
Dare all things for his subjects' weal;
Yea, if the deed bring praise or guilt,
If life be saved or blood be spilt:
Such, through all time, should be the care
Of those a kingdom's weight who bear.
Slay, Ráma, slay this impious fiend,
For by no law her life is screened.
So Manthará, as bards have told,
Virochan's child, was slain of old
By Indra, when in furious hate
She longed the earth to devastate.
So Kávya's mother, Bhrigu's wife,
Who loved her husband as her life,
When Indra's throne she sought to gain,
By Vishṇu's hand of yore was slain.
By these and high-souled kings beside,
Struck down, have lawless women died.”
Canto XXVIII. The Death Of Tádaká.
Thus spoke the saint. Each vigorous word
The noble monarch's offspring heard,
And, reverent hands together laid,
His answer to the hermit made:
“My sire and mother bade me aye
Thy word, O mighty Saint, obey
So will I, O most glorious, kill
This Táḍaká who joys in ill,
For such my sire's, and such thy will.
To aid with mine avenging hand
The Bráhmans, kine, and all the land,
Canto XXVIII. The Death Of Tádaká.
131
Obedient, heart and soul, I stand.”
Thus spoke the tamer of the foe,
And by the middle grasped his bow.
Strongly he drew the sounding string
That made the distant welkin ring.
Scared by the mighty clang the deer
That roamed the forest shook with fear,
And Táḍaká the echo heard,
And rose in haste from slumber stirred.
In wild amaze, her soul aflame
With fury toward the spot she came.
When that foul shape of evil mien
And stature vast as e'er was seen
The wrathful son of Raghu eyed,
He thus unto his brother cried:
“Her dreadful shape, O Lakshmaṇ, see,
A form to shudder at and flee.
The hideous monster's very view
Would cleave a timid heart in two.
Behold the demon hard to smite,
Defended by her magic might.
My hand shall stay her course to-day,
And shear her nose and ears away.
No heart have I her life to take:
I spare it for her sex's sake.
My will is but, with minished force,
To check her in her evil course.”
While thus he spoke, by rage impelled
Roaring as she came nigh,
The fiend her course at Ráma held
With huge arms tossed on high.
Her, rushing on, the seer assailed
With a loud cry of hate;
132
The Ramayana
And thus the sons of Raghu hailed:
“Fight, and be fortunate.”
Then from the earth a horrid cloud
Of dust the demon raised,
And for awhile in darkling shroud
Wrapt Raghu's sons amazed.
Then calling on her magic power
The fearful fight to wage,
She smote him with a stony shower,
Till Ráma burned with rage.
Then pouring forth his arrowy rain
That stony flood to stay,
[041]
With winged darts, as she charged amain,
He shore her hands away.
As Táḍaká still thundered near
Thus maimed by Ráma's blows,
Lakshmaṇ in fury severed sheer
The monster's ears and nose.
Assuming by her magic skill
A fresh and fresh disguise,
She tried a thousand shapes at will,
Then vanished from their eyes.
When Gádhi's son of high renown
Still saw the stony rain pour down
Upon each princely warrior's head,
With words of wisdom thus he said:
“Enough of mercy, Ráma, lest
This sinful evil-working pest,
Disturber of each holy rite,
Repair by magic arts her might.
Without delay the fiend should die,
For, see, the twilight hour is nigh.
And at the joints of night and day
Such giant foes are hard to slay.”
Canto XXVIII. The Death Of Tádaká.
133
Then Ráma, skilful to direct
His arrow to the sound,
With shafts the mighty demon checked
Who rained her stones around.
She sore impeded and beset
By Ráma and his arrowy net,
Though skilled in guile and magic lore,
Rushed on the brothers with a roar.
Deformed, terrific, murderous, dread,
Swift as the levin on she sped,
Like cloudy pile in autumn's sky,
Lifting her two vast arms on high,
When Ráma smote her with a dart,
Shaped like a crescent, to the heart.
Sore wounded by the shaft that came
With lightning speed and surest aim,
Blood spouting from her mouth and side,
She fell upon the earth and died.
Soon as the Lord who rules the sky
Saw the dread monster lifeless lie,
He called aloud, Well done! well done!
And the Gods honoured Raghu's son.
Standing in heaven the Thousand-eyed,
With all the Immortals, joying cried:
“Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and see
The Gods and Indra nigh to thee.
This deed of Ráma's boundless might
Has filled our bosoms with delight,
Now, for our will would have it so,
To Raghu's son some favour show.
Invest him with the power which naught
But penance gains and holy thought,
Those heavenly arms on him bestow
To thee entrusted long ago
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The Ramayana
By great Kriśáśva best of kings,
Son of the Lord of living things.
More fit recipient none can be
Than he who joys it following thee;
And for our sakes the monarch's seed
Has yet to do a mighty deed.”
He spoke; and all the heavenly train
Rejoicing sought their homes again,
While honour to the saint they paid.
Then came the evening's twilight shade,
The best of hermits overjoyed
To know the monstrous fiend destroyed,
His lips on Ráma's forehead pressed,
And thus the conquering chief addressed:
“O Ráma gracious to the sight.
Here will we pass the present night,
And with the morrow's earliest ray
Bend to my hermitage our way.”
The son of Daśaratha heard,
Delighted, Viśvámitra's word,
And as he bade, that night he spent
In Táḍaká's wild wood, content.
And the grove shone that happy day,
Freed from the curse that on it lay,
Like Chaitraratha164fair and gay.
Canto XXIX. The Celestial Arms.
164The famous pleasure-garden of Kuvera the God of Wealth.
Canto XXIX. The Celestial Arms.
135
That night they slept and took their rest;
And then the mighty saint addressed,
With pleasant smile and accents mild
These words to Raghu's princely child:
“Well pleased am I. High fate be thine,
Thou scion of a royal line.
Now will I, for I love thee so,
All heavenly arms on thee bestow.
Victor with these, whoe'er oppose,
Thy hand shall conquer all thy foes,
Though Gods and spirits of the air,
Serpents and fiends, the conflict dare.
I'll give thee as a pledge of love
The mystic arms they use above,
For worthy thou to have revealed
The weapons I have learnt to wield.165
[042]
First, son of Raghu, shall be thine
The arm of Vengeance, strong, divine:
The arm of Fate, the arm of Right,
And Vishṇu's arm of awful might:
That, before which no foe can stand,
The thunderbolt of Indra's hand;
And Śiva's trident, sharp and dread,
And that dire weapon Brahmá's Head.
And two fair clubs, O royal child,
One Charmer and one Pointed styled
With flame of lambent fire aglow,
165“ThewholeofthisCantotogetherwiththefollowingone, regardsthebelief,
formerly prevalent in India, that by virtue of certain spells, to be learnt and
muttered, secret knowledge and superhuman powers might be acquired. To
this the poet has already alluded in Canto xxiii. These incorporeal weapons are
partly represented according to the fashion of those ascribed to the Gods and
the different orders of demi-gods, partly are the mere creations of fancy; and it
would not be easy to say what idea the poet had of them in his own mind, or
what powers he meant to assign to each.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.
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The Ramayana
On thee, O Chieftain, I bestow.
And Fate's dread net and Justice' noose
That none may conquer, for thy use:
And the great cord, renowned of old,
Which Varuṇ ever loves to hold.
Take these two thunderbolts, which I
Have got for thee, the Moist and Dry.
Here Śiva's dart to thee I yield,
And that which Vishṇu wont to wield.
I give to thee the arm of Fire,
Desired by all and named the Spire.
To thee I grant the Wind-God's dart,
Named Crusher, O thou pure of heart,
This arm, the Horse's Head, accept,
And this, the Curlew's Bill yclept,
And these two spears, the best e'er flew,
Named the Invincible and True.
And arms of fiends I make thine own,
Skull-wreath and mace that smashes bone.
And Joyous, which the spirits bear,
Great weapon of the sons of air.
Brave offspring of the best of lords,
I give thee now the Gem of swords,
And offer next, thine hand to arm,
The heavenly bards' beloved charm.
Now with two arms I thee invest
Of never-ending Sleep and Rest,
With weapons of the Sun and Rain,
And those that dry and burn amain;
And strong Desire with conquering touch,
The dart that Káma prizes much.
I give the arm of shadowy powers
That bleeding flesh of men devours.
I give the arms the God of Gold
Canto XXIX. The Celestial Arms.
137
And giant fiends exult to hold.
This smites the foe in battle-strife,
And takes his fortune, strength, and life.
I give the arms called False and True,
And great Illusion give I too;
The hero's arm called Strong and Bright
That spoils the foeman's strength in fight.
I give thee as a priceless boon
The Dew, the weapon of the Moon,
And add the weapon, deftly planned,
That strengthens Viśvakarmá's hand.
The Mortal dart whose point is chill,
And Slaughter, ever sure to kill;
All these and other arms, for thou
Art very dear, I give thee now.
Receive these weapons from my hand,
Son of the noblest in the land.”
Facing the east, the glorious saint
Pure from all spot of earthly taint,
To Ráma, with delighted mind,
That noble host of spells consigned.
He taught the arms, whose lore is won
Hardly by Gods, to Raghu's son.
He muttered low the spell whose call
Summons those arms and rules them all
And, each in visible form and frame,
Before the monarch's son they came.
They stood and spoke in reverent guise
To Ráma with exulting cries:
“O noblest child of Raghu, see,
Thy ministers and thralls are we.”
With joyful heart and eager hand
Ráma received the wondrous band,
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The Ramayana
And thus with words of welcome cried:
“Aye present to my will abide.”
Then hasted to the saint to pay
Due reverence, and pursued his way.
Canto XXX. The Mysterious Powers.166
Pure, with glad cheer and joyful breast,
Of those mysterious arms possessed,
Ráma, now passing on his way,
Thus to the saint began to say:
“Lord of these mighty weapons, I
Can scarce be harmed by Gods on high;
Now, best of saints, I long to gain
The powers that can these arms restrain.”
Thus spoke the prince. The sage austere,
True to his vows, from evil clear,
Called forth the names of those great charms
Whose powers restrain the deadly arms.
“Receive thou True and Truly famed,
And Bold and Fleet: the weapons named
[043]
166“In Sanskrit Sankára, a word which has various significations but the
primary meaning of which is the act of seizing. A magical power seems
to be implied of employing the weapons when and where required. The
remarks I have made on the preceding Canto apply with still greater force
to this. The MSS. greatly vary in the enumeration of these Sankáras, and
it is not surprising that copyists have incorrectly written the names which
they did not well understand. The commentators throw no light upon the
subject.” SCHLEGEL{FNS. I have taken the liberty of omitting four of these
which Schlegel translates “Scleromphalum, Euomphalum, Centiventrem, and
Chrysomphalum.”
Canto XXX. The Mysterious Powers.
139
Warder and Progress, swift of pace,
Averted-head and Drooping-face;
The Seen, and that which Secret flies;
The weapon of the thousand eyes;
Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced,
Star-gazer and the Layer-waste:
The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot,
The pair that wake and slumber not:
The Fiendish, that which shakes amain,
The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain:
The Guardian, and the Close-allied,
The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side:
O Raghu's son receive all these,
Bright ones that wear what forms they please;
Kriśáśva's mystic sons are they,
And worthy thou their might to sway.”
With joy the pride of Raghu's race
Received the hermit's proffered grace,
Mysterious arms, to check and stay,
Or smite the foeman in the fray.
Then, all with heavenly forms endued,
Nigh came the wondrous multitude.
Celestial in their bright attire
Some shone like coals of burning fire;
Some were like clouds of dusky smoke;
And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke:
“Thy thralls, O Ráma, here we stand:
Command, we pray, thy faithful band”
“Depart,” he cried, “where each may list,
But when I call you to assist,
Be present to my mind with speed,
And aid me in the hour of need.”
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The Ramayana
To Ráma then they lowly bent,
And round him in due reverence went,
To his command, they answered, Yea,
And as they came so went away.
When thus the arms had homeward flown,
With pleasant words and modest tone,
E'en as he walked, the prince began
To question thus the holy man:
“What cloudlike wood is that which near
The mountain's side I see appear?
O tell me, for I long to know;
Its pleasant aspect charms me so.
Its glades are full of deer at play,
And sweet birds sing on every spray,
Past is the hideous wild; I feel
So sweet a tremor o'er me steal,
And hail with transport fresh and new
A land that is so fair to view.
Then tell me all, thou holy Sage,
And whose this pleasant hermitage
In which those wicked ones delight
To mar and kill each holy rite.
And with foul heart and evil deed
Thy sacrifice, great Saint, impede.
To whom, O Sage, belongs this land
In which thine altars ready stand!
'Tis mine to guard them, and to slay
The giants who the rites would stay.
All this, O best of saints, I burn
From thine own lips, my lord, to learn.”
Canto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.
Canto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.
141
Thus spoke the prince of boundless might,
And thus replied the anchorite:
“Chief of the mighty arm, of yore
Lord Vishṇu whom the Gods adore,
For holy thought and rites austere
Of penance made his dwelling here.
This ancient wood was called of old
Grove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled,
And when perfection he attained
The grove the name of Perfect gained.
Bali of yore, Virochan's son,
Dominion over Indra won,
And when with power his proud heart swelled,
O'er the three worlds his empire held.
When Bali then began a rite,
The Gods and Indra in affright
Sought Vishṇu in this place of rest,
And thus with prayers the God addressed:
“Bali. Virochan's mighty son,
His sacrifice has now begun:
Of boundless wealth, that demon king
Is bounteous to each living thing.
Though suppliants flock from every side
The suit of none is e'er denied.
Whate'er, where'er howe'er the call,
He hears the suit and gives to all.
Now with thine own illusive art
Perform, O Lord, the helper's part:
Assume a dwarfish form, and thus
From fear and danger rescue us.”167
167I omit, after this line, eight ślokes which, as Schlegel allows, are quite out
of place.
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The Ramayana
Thus in their dread the Immortals sued:
The God a dwarflike shape indued:168
Before Virochan's son he came,
Three steps of land his only claim.
The boon obtained, in wondrous wise
Lord Vishṇu's form increased in size;
Through all the worlds, tremendous, vast,
God of the Triple Step, he passed.169
The whole broad earth from side to side
He measured with one mighty stride,
Spanned with the next the firmament,
And with the third through heaven he went.
[044]
Thus was the king of demons hurled
By Vishṇu to the nether world,
And thus the universe restored
To Indra's rule, its ancient lord.
And now because the immortal God
This spot in dwarflike semblance trod,
The grove has aye been loved by me
For reverence of the devotee.
But demons haunt it, prompt to stay
Each holy offering I would pay.
Be thine, O lion-lord, to kill
These giants that delight in ill.
This day, beloved child, our feet
Shall rest within the calm retreat:
And know, thou chief of Raghu's line,
My hermitage is also thine.”
168This is the fifth of the avatárs, descents or incarnations of Vishṇu.
169This is a solar allegory. Vishṇu is the sun, the three steps being his rising,
culmination, and setting.
Canto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage.
143
He spoke; and soon the anchorite,
With joyous looks that beamed delight,
With Ráma and his brother stood
Within the consecrated wood.
Soon as they saw the holy man,
With one accord together ran
The dwellers in the sacred shade,
And to the saint their reverence paid,
And offered water for his feet,
The gift of honour and a seat;
And next with hospitable care
They entertained the princely pair.
The royal tamers of their foes
Rested awhile in sweet repose:
Then to the chief of hermits sued
Standing in suppliant attitude:
“Begin, O best of saints, we pray,
Initiatory rites to-day.
This Perfect Grove shall be anew
Made perfect, and thy words be true.”
Then, thus addressed, the holy man,
The very glorious sage, began
The high preliminary rite.
Restraining sense and appetite.
Calmly the youths that night reposed,
And rose when morn her light disclosed,
Their morning worship paid, and took
Of lustral water from the brook.
Thus purified they breathed the prayer,
Then greeted Viśvámitra where
As celebrant he sate beside
The flame with sacred oil supplied.
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The Ramayana
Canto XXXII. Visvámitra's Sacrifice.
That conquering pair, of royal race,
Skilled to observe due time and place,
To Kuśik's hermit son addressed,
In timely words, their meet request:
“When must we, lord, we pray thee tell,
Those Rovers of the Night repel?
Speak, lest we let the moment fly,
And pass the due occasion by.”
Thus longing for the strife, they prayed,
And thus the hermits answer made:
“Till the fifth day be come and past,
O Raghu's sons, your watch must last.
The saint his Dikshá170has begun,
And all that time will speak to none.”
Soon as the steadfast devotees
Had made reply in words like these,
The youths began, disdaining sleep,
Six days and nights their watch to keep.
The warrior pair who tamed the foe,
Unrivalled benders of the bow,
Kept watch and ward unwearied still
To guard the saint from scathe and ill.
'Twas now the sixth returning day,
The hour foretold had past away.
Then Ráma cried: “O Lakshmaṇ, now
Firm, watchful, resolute be thou.
The fiends as yet have kept afar
From the pure grove in which we are:
Yet waits us, ere the day shall close,
Dire battle with the demon foes.”
170Certain ceremonies preliminary to a sacrifice.
Canto XXXII. Visvámitra's Sacrifice.
145
While thus spoke Ráma borne away
By longing for the deadly fray,
See! bursting from the altar came
The sudden glory of the flame.
Round priest and deacon, and upon
Grass, ladles, flowers, the splendour shone,
And the high rite, in order due,
With sacred texts began anew.
But then a loud and fearful roar
Re-echoed through the sky;
And like vast clouds that shadow o'er
The heavens in dark July,
Involved in gloom of magic might
Two fiends rushed on amain,
Márícha, Rover of the Night,
Suváhu, and their train.
As on they came in wild career
Thick blood in rain they shed;
And Ráma saw those things of fear
Impending overhead.
Then soon as those accursed two
Who showered down blood be spied,
Thus to his brother brave and true
Spoke Ráma lotus-eyed:
“Now, Lakshmaṇ, thou these fiends shalt see,
Man-eaters, foul of mind,
Before my mortal weapon flee
Like clouds before the wind.”
He spoke. An arrow, swift as thought,
Upon his bow he pressed,
And smote, to utmost fury wrought,
Márícha on the breast.
Deep in his flesh the weapon lay
Winged by the mystic spell,
[045]
146
The Ramayana
And, hurled a hundred leagues away,
In ocean's flood he fell.
Then Ráma, when he saw the foe
Convulsed and mad with pain
Neath the chill-pointed weapon's blow,
To Lakshmaṇ spoke again:
“See, Lakshmaṇ, see! this mortal dart
That strikes a numbing chill,
Hath struck him senseless with the smart,
But left him breathing still.
But these who love the evil way,
And drink the blood they spill,
Rejoicing holy rites to stay,
Fierce plagues, my hand shall kill.”
He seized another shaft, the best,
Aglow with living flame;
It struck Suváhu on the chest,
And dead to earth he came.
Again a dart, the Wind-God's own,
Upon his string he laid,
And all the demons were o'erthrown,
The saints no more afraid.
When thus the fiends were slain in fight,
Disturbers of each holy rite,
Due honour by the saints was paid
To Ráma for his wondrous aid:
So Indra is adored when he
Has won some glorious victory.
Success at last the rite had crowned,
And Viśvámitra gazed around,
And seeing every side at rest,
The son of Raghu thus addressed:
“My joy, O Prince, is now complete:
Thou hast obeyed my will:
Canto XXXIII. The Sone.
147
Perfect before, this calm retreat
Is now more perfect still.”
Canto XXXIII. The Sone.
Their task achieved, the princes spent
That night with joy and full content.
Ere yet the dawn was well displayed
Their morning rites they duly paid,
And sought, while yet the light was faint,
The hermits and the mighty saint.
They greeted first that holy sire
Resplendent like the burning fire,
And then with noble words began
Their sweet speech to the sainted man:
“Here stand, O Lord, thy servants true:
Command what thou wouldst have us do.”
The saints, by Viśvámitra led,
To Ráma thus in answer said:
“Janak the king who rules the land
Of fertile Míthilá has planned
A noble sacrifice, and we
Will thither go the rite to see.
Thou, Prince of men, with us shalt go,
And there behold the wondrous bow,
Terrific, vast, of matchless might,
Which, splendid at the famous rite,
The Gods assembled gave the king.
No giant, fiend, or God can string
That gem of bows, no heavenly bard:
148
The Ramayana
Then, sure, for man the task were hard.
When lords of earth have longed to know
The virtue of that wondrous bow,
The strongest sons of kings in vain
Have tried the mighty cord to strain.
This famous bow thou there shalt view,
And wondrous rites shalt witness too.
The high-souled king who lords it o'er
The realm of Míthilá of yore
Gained from the Gods this bow, the price
Of his imperial sacrifice.
Won by the rite the glorious prize
Still in the royal palace lies,
Laid up in oil of precious scent
With aloe-wood and incense blent.”
Then Ráma answering, Be it so,
Made ready with the rest to go.
The saint himself was now prepared,
But ere beyond the grove he fared,
He turned him and in words like these
Addressed the sylvan deities:
“Farewell! each holy rite complete,
I leave the hermits' perfect seat:
To Gangá's northern shore I go
Beneath Himálaya's peaks of snow.”
With reverent steps he paced around
The limits of the holy ground,
And then the mighty saint set forth
And took his journey to the north.
His pupils, deep in Scripture's page,
Followed behind the holy sage,
And servants from the sacred grove
A hundred wains for convoy drove.
Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.
149
The very birds that winged that air,
The very deer that harboured there,
Forsook the glade and leafy brake
And followed for the hermit's sake.
They travelled far, till in the west
The sun was speeding to his rest,
And made, their portioned journey o'er,
Their halt on Śona's171distant shore.
The hermits bathed when sank the sun,
And every rite was duly done,
Oblations paid to Fire, and then
Sate round their chief the holy men.
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ lowly bowed
In reverence to the hermit crowd,
And Ráma, having sate him down
Before the saint of pure renown,
[046]
With humble palms together laid
His eager supplication made:
“What country, O my lord, is this,
Fair-smiling in her wealth and bliss?
Deign fully, O thou mighty Seer,
To tell me, for I long to hear.”
Moved by the prayer of Ráma, he
Told forth the country's history.
Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.
171A river which rises in Budelcund and falls into the Ganges near Patna. It is
called also Hiraṇyaráhu, Golden-armed, and Hiraṇyaráha, Auriferous.
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The Ramayana
“A king of Brahmá's seed who bore
The name of Kuśa reigned of yore.
Just, faithful to his vows, and true,
He held the good in honour due.
His bride, a queen of noble name,
Of old Vidarbha's172monarchs came.
Like their own father, children four,
All valiant boys, the lady bore.
In glorious deeds each nerve they strained,
And well their Warrior part sustained.
To them most just, and true, and brave,
Their father thus his counsel gave:
“Beloved children, ne'er forget
Protection is a prince's debt:
The noble work at once begin,
High virtue and her fruits to win.”
The youths, to all the people dear,
Received his speech with willing ear;
And each went forth his several way,
Foundations of a town to lay.
Kuśámba, prince of high renown,
Was builder of Kauśámbí's town,
And Kuśanábha, just and wise,
Bade high Mahodaya's towers arise.
Amúrtarajas chose to dwell
In Dharmáraṇya's citadel,
And Vasu bade his city fair
The name of Girivraja bear.173
172The modern Berar.
173According to the Bengal recension the first (Kuśámba) is called Kuśáśva,
and his city Kauśáśví. This name does not occur elsewhere. The reading
of the northern recension is confirmed by Foê Kouê Ki; p. 385, where the
city Kiaoshangmi is mentioned. It lay 500 lis to the south-west of Prayága,
on the south bank of the Jumna. Mahodaya is another name of Kanyakubja:
Dharmáraṇya, the wood to which the God of Justice is said to have fled
Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.
151
This fertile spot whereon we stand
Was once the high-souled Vasu's land.
Behold! as round we turn our eyes,
Five lofty mountain peaks arise.
See! bursting from her parent hill,
Sumágadhí, a lovely rill,
Bright gleaming as she flows between
The mountains, like a wreath is seen,
And then through Magadh's plains and groves
With many a fair mæander roves.
And this was Vasu's old domain,
The fertile Magadh's broad champaign,
Which smiling fields of tilth adorn
And diadem with golden corn.
The queen Ghritáchí, nymph most fair,
Married to Kuśanábha, bare
A hundred daughters, lovely-faced,
With every charm and beauty graced.
It chanced the maidens, bright and gay
As lightning-flashes on a day
Of rain time, to the garden went
With song and play and merriment,
And there in gay attire they strayed,
And danced, and laughed, and sang, and played.
The God of Wind who roves at will
All places, as he lists, to fill,
Saw the young maidens dancing there,
Of faultless shape and mien most fair.
“I love you all, sweet girls,” he cried,
“And each shall be my darling bride.
Forsake, forsake your mortal lot,
through fear of Soma the Moon-God was in Magadh. Girivraja was in the same
neighbourhood. See Lasson's I, A. Vol. I. p. 604.
152
The Ramayana
And gain a life that withers not.
A fickle thing is youth's brief span,
And more than all in mortal man.
Receive unending youth, and be
Immortal, O my loves, with me.”
The hundred girls, to wonder stirred,
The wooing of the Wind-God heard,
Laughed, as a jest, his suit aside,
And with one voice they thus replied:
“O mighty Wind, free spirit who
All life pervadest, through and through,
Thy wondrous power we maidens know;
Then wherefore wilt thou mock us so?
Our sire is Kuśanábha, King;
And we, forsooth, have charms to bring
A God to woo us from the skies;
But honour first we maidens prize.
Far may the hour, we pray, be hence,
When we, O thou of little sense,
Our truthful father's choice refuse,
And for ourselves our husbands choose.
Our honoured sire our lord we deem,
He is to us a God supreme,
And they to whom his high decree
May give us shall our husbands be.”
He heard the answer they returned,
And mighty rage within him burned.
On each fair maid a blast he sent:
Each stately form he bowed and bent.
Bent double by the Wind-God's ire
They sought the palace of their sire,
[047]
Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.
153
There fell upon the ground with sighs,
While tears and shame were in their eyes.
The king himself, with troubled brow,
Saw his dear girls so fair but now,
A mournful sight all bent and bowed,
And grieving thus he cried aloud:
“What fate is this, and what the cause?
What wretch has scorned all heavenly laws?
Who thus your forms could curve and break?
You struggle, but no answer make.”
They heard the speech of that wise king
Of their misfortune questioning.
Again the hundred maidens sighed,
Touched with their heads his feet, and cried:
“The God of Wind, pervading space,
Would bring on us a foul disgrace,
And choosing folly's evil way
From virtue's path in scorn would stray.
But we in words like these reproved
The God of Wind whom passion moved:
“Farewell, O Lord! A sire have we,
No women uncontrolled and free.
Go, and our sire's consent obtain
If thou our maiden hands wouldst gain.
No self-dependent life we live:
If we offend, our fault forgive.”
But led by folly as a slave,
He would not hear the rede we gave,
And even as we gently spoke
We felt the Wind-God's crushing stroke.”
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The Ramayana
The pious king, with grief distressed,
The noble hundred thus addressed:
“With patience, daughters, bear your fate,
Yours was a deed supremely great
When with one mind you kept from shame
The honour of your father's name.
Patience, when men their anger vent,
Is woman's praise and ornament;
Yet when the Gods inflict the blow
Hard is it to support the woe.
Patience, my girls, exceeds all price:
'Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice.
Patience is virtue, patience fame:
Patience upholds this earthly frame.
And now, I think, is come the time
To wed you in your maiden prime.
Now, daughters, go where'er you will:
Thoughts for your good my mind shall fill.”
The maidens went, consoled, away:
The best of kings, that very day,
Summoned his ministers of state
About their marriage to debate.
Since then, because the Wind-God bent
The damsels' forms for punishment,
That royal town is known to fame
By Kanyákubja's174borrowed name.
174That is, the City of the Bent Virgins, the modern Kanauj or Canouge.
Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta.
155
There lived a sage called Chúli then,
Devoutest of the sons of men;
His days in penance rites he spent,
A glorious saint, most continent.
To him absorbed in tasks austere
The child of Urmilá drew near,
Sweet Somadá, the heavenly maid
And lent the saint her pious aid.
Long time near him the maiden spent,
And served him meek and reverent,
Till the great hermit, pleased with her,
Thus spoke unto his minister:
“Grateful am I for all thy care:
Blest maiden, speak, thy wish declare.”
The sweet-voiced nymph rejoiced to see
The favour of the devotee,
And to that eloquent old man,
Most eloquent she thus began:
“Thou hast, by heavenly grace sustained,
Close union with the Godhead gained.
I long, O Saint, to see a son
By force of holy penance won.
Unwed, a maiden life I live:
A son to me, thy suppliant, give.”
The saint with favour heard her prayer,
And gave a son exceeding fair.
Him, Chúli's spiritual child,
His mother Brahmadatta175styled.
King Brahmadatta, rich and great,
In Kámpilí maintained his state,
Ruling, like Indra in his bliss,
His fortunate metropolis.
175Literally, Given by Brahma or devout contemplation.
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The Ramayana
King Kuśanábha planned that he
His hundred daughters' lord should be.
To him, obedient to his call,
The happy monarch gave them all.
Like Indra then he took the hand
Of every maiden of the band.
Soon as the hand of each young maid
In Brahmadatta's palm was laid,
Deformity and cares away,
She shone in beauty bright and gay.
Their freedom from the Wind-God's might
Saw Kuśanábha with delight.
Each glance that on their forms he threw
Filled him with raptures ever new.
Then when the rites were all complete,
With highest marks of honour meet
The bridegroom with his brides he sent
To his great seat of government.
The nymph received with pleasant speech
Her daughters; and, embracing each,
Upon their forms she fondly gazed,
And royal Kuśanábha praised.
[048]
Canto XXXV. Visvámitra's Lineage.
Canto XXXV. Visvámitra's Lineage.
157
“The rites were o'er, the maids were wed,
The bridegroom to his home was sped.
The sonless monarch bade prepare
A sacrifice to gain an heir.
Then Kuśa, Brahmá's son, appeared,
And thus King Kuśanábha cheered:
“Thou shalt, my child, obtain a son
Like thine own self, O holy one.
Through him for ever, Gádhi named,
Shalt thou in all the worlds be famed.”
He spoke, and vanished from the sight
To Brahmá's world of endless light.
Time fled, and, as the saint foretold,
Gádhi was born, the holy-souled.
My sire was he; through him I trace
My line from royal Kuśa's race.
My sister—elder-born was she—
The pure and good Satyavatí,176
Was to the great Richíka wed.
Still faithful to her husband dead,
She followed him, most noble dame,
And, raised to heaven in human frame,
A pure celestial stream became.
Down from Himálaya's snowy height,
In floods for ever fair and bright,
My sister's holy waves are hurled
To purify and glad the world.
Now on Himálaya's side I dwell
Because I love my sister well.
176Now called Kośí (Cosy) corrupted from Kauśikí, daughter of Kuś]a.
“This is one of those personifications of rivers so frequent in the Grecian
mythology, but in the similar myths is seen the impress of the genius of each
people, austere and profoundly religious in India, graceful and devoted to the
worship of external beauty in Greece.” GORRESIO{FNS.
158
The Ramayana
She, for her faith and truth renowned,
Most loving to her husband found,
High-fated, firm in each pure vow,
Is queen of all the rivers now.
Bound by a vow I left her side
And to the Perfect convent hied.
There, by the aid 'twas thine to lend,
Made perfect, all my labours end.
Thus, mighty Prince, I now have told
My race and lineage, high and old,
And local tales of long ago
Which thou, O Ráma, fain wouldst know.
As I have sate rehearsing thus
The midnight hour is come on us.
Now, Ráma, sleep, that nothing may
Our journey of to-morrow stay.
No leaf on any tree is stirred:
Hushed in repose are beast and bird:
Where'er you turn, on every side,
Dense shades of night the landscape hide,
The light of eve is fled: the skies,
Thick-studded with their host of eyes,
Seem a star-forest overhead,
Where signs and constellations spread.
Now rises, with his pure cold ray,
The moon that drives the shades away,
And with his gentle influence brings
Joy to the hearts of living things.
Now, stealing from their lairs, appear
The beasts to whom the night is dear.
Now spirits walk, and every power
That revels in the midnight hour.”
Canto XXXVI. The Birth Of Gangá.
159
The mighty hermit's tale was o'er,
He closed his lips and spoke no more.
The holy men on every side,
“Well done! well done,” with reverence cried;
“The mighty men of Kuśa's seed
Were ever famed for righteous deed.
Like Brahmá's self in glory shine
The high-souled lords of Kuśa's line,
And thy great name is sounded most,
O Saint, amid the noble host.
And thy dear sister—fairest she
Of streams, the high-born Kauśikí—
Diffusing virtue where she flows,
New splendour on thy lineage throws.”
Thus by the chief of saints addressed
The son of Gádhi turned to rest;
So, when his daily course is done,
Sinks to his rest the beaming sun.
Ráma with Lakshmaṇ, somewhat stirred
To marvel by the tales they heard,
Turned also to his couch, to close
His eyelids in desired repose.
Canto XXXVI. The Birth Of Gangá.
The hours of night now waning fast
On Śona's pleasant shore they passed.
Then, when the dawn began to break,
To Ráma thus the hermit spake:
“The light of dawn is breaking clear,
The hour of morning rites is near.
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The Ramayana
Rise, Ráma, rise, dear son, I pray,
And make thee ready for the way.”
Then Ráma rose, and finished all
His duties at the hermit's call,
Prepared with joy the road to take,
And thus again in question spake:
“Here fair and deep the Śona flows,
And many an isle its bosom shows:
What way, O Saint, will lead us o'er
And land us on the farther shore?”
The saint replied: “The way I choose
Is that which pious hermits use.”
[049]
For many a league they journeyed on
Till, when the sun of mid-day shone,
The hermit-haunted flood was seen
Of Jáhnaví,177the Rivers' Queen.
Soon as the holy stream they viewed,
Thronged with a white-winged multitude
Of sárases178and swans,179delight
Possessed them at the lovely sight;
And then prepared the hermit band
To halt upon that holy strand.
They bathed as Scripture bids, and paid
Oblations due to God and shade.
To Fire they burnt the offerings meet,
And sipped the oil, like Amrit sweet.
Then pure and pleased they sate around
Saint Viśvámitra on the ground.
The holy men of lesser note,
177One of the names of the Ganges considered as the daughter of Jahnu. See
Canto XLIV.
178The Indian Crane.
179Or, rather, geese.
Canto XXXVI. The Birth Of Gangá.
161
In due degree, sate more remote,
While Raghu's sons took nearer place
By virtue of their rank and race.
Then Ráma said: “O Saint, I yearn
The three-pathed Gangá's tale to learn.”
Thus urged, the sage recounted both
The birth of Gangá and her growth:
“The mighty hill with metals stored,
Himálaya, is the mountains' lord,
The father of a lovely pair
Of daughters fairest of the fair:
Their mother, offspring of the will
Of Meru, everlasting hill,
Mená, Himálaya's darling, graced
With beauty of her dainty waist.
Gangá was elder-born: then came
The fair one known by Umá's name.
Then all the Gods of heaven, in need
Of Gangá's help their vows to speed,
To great Himálaya came and prayed
The mountain King to yield the maid.
He, not regardless of the weal
Of the three worlds, with holy zeal
His daughter to the Immortals gave,
Gangá whose waters cleanse and save,
Who roams at pleasure, fair and free,
Purging all sinners, to the sea.
The three-pathed Gangá thus obtained,
The Gods their heavenly homes regained.
Long time the sister Umá passed
In vows austere and rigid fast,
And the king gave the devotee
162
The Ramayana
Immortal Rudra's180bride to be,
Matching with that unequalled Lord
His Umá through the worlds adored.
So now a glorious station fills
Each daughter of the King of Hills:
One honoured as the noblest stream,
One mid the Goddesses supreme.
Thus Gangá, King Himálaya's child,
The heavenly river, undefiled,
Rose bearing with her to the sky
Her waves that bless and purify.”
[I am compelled to omit Cantos XXXVII and XXXVIII, THE
GLORY OF UMÁ, and THE BIRTH OF KÁRTIKEYA, as both in subject
and language offensive to modern taste. They will be found in
Schlegel's Latin translation.]
Canto XXXIX. The Sons Of Sagar.
The saint in accents sweet and clear
Thus told his tale for Ráma's ear,
And thus anew the holy man
A legend to the prince began:
“There reigned a pious monarch o'er
Ayodhyá in the days of yore:
Sagar his name: no child had he,
And children much he longed to see.
His honoured consort, fair of face,
Sprang from Vidarbha's royal race,
Keśini, famed from early youth
180A name of the God Śiva.
Canto XXXIX. The Sons Of Sagar.
163
For piety and love of truth.
Aríshṭanemi's daughter fair,
With whom no maiden might compare
In beauty, though the earth is wide,
Sumati, was his second bride.
With his two queens afar he went,
And weary days in penance spent,
Fervent, upon Himálaya's hill
Where springs the stream called Bhrigu' rill.
Nor did he fail that saint to please
With his devout austerities.
And, when a hundred years had fled,
Thus the most truthful Bhrigu said:
“From thee, O Sagar, blameless King,
A mighty host of sons shall spring,
And thou shalt win a glorious name
Which none, O Chief, but thou shall claim.
One of thy queens a son shall bear,
Maintainer of thy race and heir;
And of the other there shall be
Sons sixty thousand born to thee.”
Thus as he spake, with one accord,
To win the grace of that high lord,
The queens, with palms together laid,
In humble supplication prayed:
“Which queen, O Bráhman, of the pair,
The many, or the one shall bear?
Most eager, Lord, are we to know,
And as thou sayest be it so.”
[050]
With his sweet speech the saint replied:
“Yourselves, O Queens, the choice decide.
Your own discretion freely use
Which shall the one or many choose:
164
The Ramayana
One shall the race and name uphold,
The host be famous, strong, and bold.
Which will have which?” Then Keśini
The mother of one heir would be.
Sumati, sister of the king181
Of all the birds that ply the wing,
To that illustrious Bráhman sued
That she might bear the multitude
Whose fame throughout the world should sound
For mighty enterprise renowned.
Around the saint the monarch went,
Bowing his head, most reverent.
Then with his wives, with willing feet,
Resought his own imperial seat.
Time passed. The elder consort bare
A son called Asamanj, the heir.
Then Sumati, the younger, gave
Birth to a gourd,182O hero brave,
Whose rind, when burst and cleft in two,
Gave sixty thousand babes to view.
All these with care the nurses laid
In jars of oil; and there they stayed,
Till, youthful age and strength complete,
Forth speeding from each dark retreat,
All peers in valour, years, and might,
The sixty thousand came to light.
Prince Asamanj, brought up with care,
Scourge of his foes, was made the heir.
But liegemen's boys he used to cast
To Sarjú's waves that hurried past,
Laughing the while in cruel glee
181Garuḍa.
182Ikshváku, the name of a king of Ayodhyá who is regarded as the founder of
the Solar race, means also a gourd. Hence, perhaps, the myth.
Canto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.
165
Their dying agonies to see.
This wicked prince who aye withstood
The counsel of the wise and good,
Who plagued the people in his hate,
His father banished from the state.
His son, kind-spoken, brave, and tall,
Was Anśumán, beloved of all.
Long years flew by. The king decreed
To slay a sacrificial steed.
Consulting with his priestly band
He vowed the rite his soul had planned,
And, Veda skilled, by their advice
Made ready for the sacrifice.
Canto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.
The hermit ceased: the tale was done:
Then in a transport Raghu's son
Again addressed the ancient sire
Resplendent as a burning fire:
“O holy man, I fain would hear
The tale repeated full and clear
How he from whom my sires descend
Brought the great rite to happy end.”
The hermit answered with a smile:
“Then listen, son of Raghu, while
My legendary tale proceeds
To tell of high-souled Sagar's deeds.
Within the spacious plain that lies
From where Himálaya's heights arise
166
The Ramayana
To where proud Vindhya's rival chain
Looks down upon the subject plain—
A land the best for rites declared183.

His sacrifice the king prepared.
And Anśumán the prince—for so
Sagar advised—with ready bow
Was borne upon a mighty car
To watch the steed who roamed afar.
But Indra, monarch of the skies,
Veiling his form in demon guise,
Came down upon the appointed day
And drove the victim horse away.
Reft of the steed the priests, distressed,
The master of the rite addressed:
“Upon the sacred day by force
A robber takes the victim horse.
Haste, King! now let the thief be slain;
Bring thou the charger back again:
The sacred rite prevented thus
Brings scathe and woe to all of us.
Rise, monarch, and provide with speed
That naught its happy course impede.”
183“The region here spoken of is called in the Laws of Manu Madhyadeśa or
the middle region. ‘The region situated between the Himálaya and the Vindhya
Mountains … is called Madhyadeśa, or the middle region; the space comprised
between these two mountains from the eastern to the western sea is called by
sages Áryávartta, the seat of honourable men.’ (MANU{FNS, II, 21, 22.) The
Sanskrit Indians called themselves Áryans, which means honourable, noble,
to distinguish themselves from the surrounding nations of different origin.”
GORRESIO{FNS
Canto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.
167
King Sagar in his crowded court
Gave ear unto the priests' report.
He summoned straightway to his side
His sixty thousand sons, and cried:
“Brave sons of mine, I knew not how
These demons are so mighty now:
The priests began the rite so well
All sanctified with prayer and spell.
If in the depths of earth he hide,
Or lurk beneath the ocean's tide,
[051]
Pursue, dear sons, the robber's track;
Slay him and bring the charger back.
The whole of this broad earth explore,
Sea-garlanded, from shore to shore:
Yea, dig her up with might and main
Until you see the horse again.
Deep let your searching labour reach,
A league in depth dug out by each.
The robber of our horse pursue,
And please your sire who orders you.
My grandson, I, this priestly train,
Till the steed comes, will here remain.”
Their eager hearts with transport burned
As to their task the heroes turned.
Obedient to their father, they
Through earth's recesses forced their way.
With iron arms' unflinching toil
Each dug a league beneath the soil.
Earth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain,
As emulous they plied amain
Sharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar,
Hard as the bolts of Indra are.
Then loud the horrid clamour rose
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The Ramayana
Of monsters dying neath their blows,
Giant and demon, fiend and snake,
That in earth's core their dwelling make.
They dug, in ire that naught could stay,
Through sixty thousand leagues their way,
Cleaving the earth with matchless strength
Till hell itself they reached at length.
Thus digging searched they Jambudvip184
With all its hills and mountains steep.
Then a great fear began to shake
The heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake,
And all distressed in spirit went
Before the Sire Omnipotent.
With signs of woe in every face
They sought the mighty Father's grace,
And trembling still and ill at ease
Addressed their Lord in words like these:
“The sons of Sagar, Sire benign,
Pierce the whole earth with mine on mine,
And as their ruthless work they ply
Innumerable creatures die.
“This is the thief,” the princes say,
“Who stole our victim steed away.
This marred the rite, and caused us ill,
And so their guiltless blood they spill.”
Canto XLI. Kapil.
184Said to be so called from the Jambu, or Rose Apple, abounding in it, and
signifyingaccordingtothePuránasthecentraldivisionoftheworld, theknown
world.
Canto XLI. Kapil.
169
The father lent a gracious ear
And listened to their tale of fear,
And kindly to the Gods replied
Whom woe and death had terrified:
“The wisest Vásudeva,185who
The Immortals' foe, fierce Madhu, slew,
Regards broad Earth with love and pride
And guards, in Kapil's form, his bride.186
His kindled wrath will quickly fall
On the king's sons and burn them all.
This cleaving of the earth his eye
Foresaw in ages long gone by:
He knew with prescient soul the fate
That Sagar's children should await.”
The Three-and-thirty,187freed from fear,
Sought their bright homes with hopeful cheer.
Still rose the great tempestuous sound
As Sagar's children pierced the ground.
When thus the whole broad earth was cleft,
And not a spot unsearched was left,
185Here used as a name of Vishṇu.
186Kings are called the husbands of their kingdoms or of the earth; “She and
his kingdom were his only brides.” Raghuvaṅśa.
“Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate
A double marriage, 'twixt my crown and me,
And then between me and my married wife.”
King Richard II. Act V. Sc. I.
187The thirty-three Gods are said in the Aitareya Bráhmaṇa, Book I. ch. II. 10.
to be the eight Vasus, the eleven Rudras, the twelve Ádityas, Prajápati, either
Brahmá or Daksha, and Vashatkára or deified oblation. This must have been
the actual number at the beginning of the Vedic religion gradually increased
by successive mythical and religious creations till the Indian Pantheon was
crowdedwithabstractionsofeverykind. Throughthereverencewithwhichthe
words of the Veda were regarded, the immense host of multiplied divinities, in
later times, still bore the name of the Thirty-three Gods.
170
The Ramayana
Back to their home the princes sped,
And thus unto their father said:
“We searched the earth from side to side,
While countless hosts of creatures died.
Our conquering feet in triumph trod
On snake and demon, fiend and God;
But yet we failed, with all our toil,
To find the robber and the spoil.
What can we more? If more we can,
Devise, O King, and tell thy plan.”
His children's speech King Sagar heard,
And answered thus, to anger stirred:
“Dig on, and ne'er your labour stay
Till through earth's depths you force your way.
Then smite the robber dead, and bring
The charger back with triumphing.”
[052]
The sixty thousand chiefs obeyed:
Deep through the earth their way they made.
Deep as they dug and deeper yet
The immortal elephant they met,
Famed Vírúpáksha188vast of size,
Upon whose head the broad earth lies:
The mighty beast who earth sustains
188“Oneoftheelephantswhich, accordingtoanancientbeliefpopularinIndia,
supported the earth with their enormous backs; when one of these elephants
shook his wearied head the earth trembled with its woods and hills. An idea, or
rather a mythical fancy, similar to this, but reduced to proportions less grand,
is found in Virgil when he speaks of Enceladus buried under Ætna:”
“adi semiustum fulmine corpus
Urgeri mole hac, ingentemque insuper Ætnam
Impositam, ruptis flammam expirare caminis;
Et fessum quoties mutat latus, intre mere omnem
iam, et cœlum subtexere fumo.”
Æneid. Lib. III. GORRESIO{FNS.
Canto XLI. Kapil.
171
With shaggy hills and wooded plains.
When, with the changing moon, distressed,
And longing for a moment's rest,
His mighty head the monster shakes,
Earth to the bottom reels and quakes.
Around that warder strong and vast
With reverential steps they passed.
Nor, when the honour due was paid,
Their downward search through earth delayed.
But turning from the east aside
Southward again their task they plied.
There Mahápadma held his place,
The best of all his mighty race,
Like some huge hill, of monstrous girth,
Upholding on his head the earth.
When the vast beast the princes saw,
They marvelled and were filled with awe.
The sons of high-souled Sagar round
That elephant in reverence wound.
Then in the western region they
With might unwearied cleft their way.
There saw they with astonisht eyes
Saumanas, beast of mountain size.
Round him with circling steps they went
With greetings kind and reverent.
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The Ramayana
On, on—no thought of rest or stay—
They reached the seat of Soma's sway.
There saw they Bhadra, white as snow,
With lucky marks that fortune show,
Bearing the earth upon his head.
Round him they paced with solemn tread,
And honoured him with greetings kind,
Then downward yet their way they mined.
They gained the tract 'twixt east and north
Whose fame is ever blazoned forth,189
And by a storm of rage impelled,
Digging through earth their course they held.
Then all the princes, lofty-souled,
Of wondrous vigour, strong and bold,
Saw Vásudeva190standing there
In Kapil's form he loved to wear,
And near the everlasting God
The victim charger cropped the sod.
They saw with joy and eager eyes
The fancied robber and the prize,
And on him rushed the furious band
Crying aloud, Stand, villain! stand!
“Avaunt! avaunt!” great Kapil cried,
His bosom flusht with passion's tide;
189“The Devas and Asuras (Gods and Titans) fought in the east, the south, the
west, and the north, and the Devas were defeated by the Asuras in all these
directions. They then fought in the north-eastern direction; there the Devas did
not sustain defeat. This direction is aparájitá, i.e. unconquerable. Thence one
should do work in this direction, and have it done there; for such a one (alone)
is able to clear off his debts.” HAUG'S{FNS Aitareya Bráhmanam, Vol. II, p.
33.
The debts here spoken of are a man's religious obligations to the Gods, the
Pitaras or Manes, and men.
190Vishṇu.
Canto XLII. Sagar's Sacrifice.
173
Then by his might that proud array
All scorcht to heaps of ashes lay.191
Canto XLII. Sagar's Sacrifice.
Then to the prince his grandson, bright
With his own fame's unborrowed light,
King Sagar thus began to say,
Marvelling at his sons' delay:
“Thou art a warrior skilled and bold,
Match for the mighty men of old.
Now follow on thine uncles' course
And track the robber of the horse.
[053]
To guard thee take thy sword and bow,
for huge and strong are beasts below.
There to the reverend reverence pay,
And kill the foes who check thy way;
Then turn successful home and see
My sacrifice complete through thee.”
191“It appears to me that this mythical story has reference to the volcanic
phenomena of nature. Kapil may very possibly be that hidden fiery force
which suddenly unprisons itself and bursts forth in volcanic effects. Kapil is,
moreover, one of the names of Agni the God of Fire.” GORRESIO{FNS.
174
The Ramayana
Obedient to the high-souled lord
Grasped Anśumán his bow and sword,
And hurried forth the way to trace
With youth and valour's eager pace.
On sped he by the path he found
Dug by his uncles underground.
The warder elephant he saw
Whose size and strength pass Nature's law,
Who bears the world's tremendous weight,
Whom God, fiend, giant venerate,
Bird, serpent, and each flitting shade,
To him the honour meet he paid
With circling steps and greeting due,
And further prayed him, if he knew,
To tell him of his uncles' weal,
And who had dared the horse to steal.
To him in war and council tried
The warder elephant replied:
“Thou, son of Asamanj, shalt lead
In triumph back the rescued steed.”
As to each warder beast he came
And questioned all, his words the same,
The honoured youth with gentle speech
Drew eloquent reply from each,
That fortune should his steps attend,
And with the horse he home should wend.
Cheered with the grateful answer, he
Passed on with step more light and free,
And reached with careless heart the place
Where lay in ashes Sagar's race.
Then sank the spirit of the chief
Beneath that shock of sudden grief,
And with a bitter cry of woe
Canto XLII. Sagar's Sacrifice.
175
He mourned his kinsmen fallen so.
He saw, weighed down by woe and care,
The victim charger roaming there.
Yet would the pious chieftain fain
Oblations offer to the slain:
But, needing water for the rite,
He looked and there was none in sight
His quick eye searching all around
The uncle of his kinsmen found,
King Garuḍ, best beyond compare
Of birds who wing the fields of air.
Then thus unto the weeping man
The son of Vinatá192began:
“Grieve not, O hero, for their fall
Who died a death approved of all.
Of mighty strength, they met their fate
By Kapil's hand whom none can mate.
Pour forth for them no earthly wave,
A holier flood their spirits crave.
If, daughter of the Lord of Snow,
Gangá would turn her stream below,
Her waves that cleanse all mortal stain
Would wash their ashes pure again.
Yea, when her flood whom all revere
Rolls o'er the dust that moulders here,
The sixty thousand, freed from sin,
A home in Indra's heaven shall win.
Go, and with ceaseless labour try
To draw the Goddess from the sky.
Return, and with thee take the steed;
So shall thy grandsire's rite succeed.”
192Garuḍ was the son of Kaśyap and Vinatá.
176
The Ramayana
Prince Anśumán the strong and brave
Followed the rede Suparṇa193gave.
The glorious hero took the horse,
And homeward quickly bent his course.
Straight to the anxious king he hied,
Whom lustral rites had purified,
The mournful story to unfold
And all the king of birds had told.
The tale of woe the monarch heard,
Nor longer was the rite deferred:
With care and just observance he
Accomplished all, as texts decree.
The rites performed, with brighter fame,
Mighty in counsel, home he came.
He longed to bring the river down,
But found no plan his wish to crown.
He pondered long with anxious thought
But saw no way to what he sought.
Thus thirty thousand years he spent,
And then to heaven the monarch went.
Canto XLIII. Bhagírath.
When Sagar thus had bowed to fate,
The lords and commons of the state
Approved with ready heart and will
Prince Anśumán his throne to fill.
He ruled, a mighty king, unblamed,
Sire of Dilípa justly famed.
193Garuḍ.
Canto XLIII. Bhagírath.
177
To him, his child and worthy heir,
The king resigned his kingdom's care,
And on Himálaya's pleasant side
His task austere of penance plied.
Bright as a God in clear renown
He planned to bring pure Gangá down.
There on his fruitless hope intent
Twice sixteen thousand years he spent,
And in the grove of hermits stayed
Till bliss in heaven his rites repaid.
Dilípa then, the good and great,
Soon as he learnt his kinsmen's fate,
Bowed down by woe, with troubled mind,
[054]
Pondering long no cure could find.
“How can I bring,” the mourner sighed,
“To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide?
How can I give them rest, and save
Their spirits with the offered wave?”
Long with this thought his bosom skilled
In holy discipline was filled.
A son was born, Bhagírath named,
Above all men for virtue famed.
Dilípa many a rite ordained,
And thirty thousand seasons reigned.
But when no hope the king could see
His kinsmen from their woe to free,
The lord of men, by sickness tried,
Obeyed the law of fate, and died;
He left the kingdom to his son,
And gained the heaven his deeds had won.
The good Bhagírath, royal sage,
Had no fair son to cheer his age.
He, great in glory, pure in will,
Longing for sons was childless still.
178
The Ramayana
Then on one wish, one thought intent,
Planning the heavenly stream's descent,
Leaving his ministers the care
And burden of his state to bear,
Dwelling in far Gokarna194he
Engaged in long austerity.
With senses checked, with arms upraised,
Five fires195around and o'er him blazed.
Each weary month the hermit passed
Breaking but once his awful fast.
In winter's chill the brook his bed,
In rain, the clouds to screen his head.
Thousands of years he thus endured
Till Brahmá's favour was assured,
And the high Lord of living things
Looked kindly on his sufferings.
With trooping Gods the Sire came near
The king who plied his task austere:
“Blest Monarch, of a glorious race,
Thy fervent rites have won my grace.
Well hast thou wrought thine awful task:
Some boon in turn, O Hermit, ask.”
Bhagírath, rich in glory's light,
The hero with the arm of might,
Thus to the Lord of earth and sky
Raised suppliant hands and made reply:
“If the great God his favour deigns,
And my long toil its fruit obtains,
Let Sagar's sons receive from me
Libations that they long to see.
Let Gangá with her holy wave
194A famous and venerated region near the Malabar coast.
195That is four fires and the sun.
Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.
179
The ashes of the heroes lave,
That so my kinsmen may ascend
To heavenly bliss that ne'er shall end.
And give, I pray, O God, a son,
Nor let my house be all undone.
Sire of the worlds! be this the grace
Bestowed upon Ikshváku's race.”
The Sire, when thus the king had prayed,
In sweet kind words his answer made.
“High, high thy thought and wishes are,
Bhagírath of the mighty car!
Ikshváku's line is blest in thee,
And as thou prayest it shall be.
Gangá, whose waves in Swarga196flow,
Is daughter of the Lord of Snow.
Win Śiva that his aid be lent
To hold her in her mid descent,
For earth alone will never bear
Those torrents hurled from upper air;
And none may hold her weight but He,
The Trident wielding deity.”
Thus having said, the Lord supreme
Addressed him to the heavenly stream;
And then with Gods and Maruts197went
To heaven above the firmament.
Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.
196Heaven.
197Wind-Gods.
180
The Ramayana
The Lord of life the skies regained:
The fervent king a year remained
With arms upraised, refusing rest
While with one toe the earth he pressed,
Still as a post, with sleepless eye,
The air his food, his roof the sky.
The year had past. Then Umá's lord,198
King of creation, world adored,
Thus spoke to great Bhagírath: “I,
Well pleased thy wish will gratify,
And on my head her waves shall fling
The daughter of the Mountains' King!”
He stood upon the lofty crest
That crowns the Lord of Snow,
And bade the river of the Blest
Descend on earth below.
Himálaya's child, adored of all,
The haughty mandate heard,
And her proud bosom, at the call,
With furious wrath was stirred.
Down from her channel in the skies
With awful might she sped
With a giant's rush, in a giant's size,
On Śiva's holy head.
“He calls me,” in her wrath she cried,
“And all my flood shall sweep
And whirl him in its whelming tide
To hell's profoundest deep.”
He held the river on his head,
And kept her wandering, where,
Dense as Himálaya's woods, were spread
The tangles of his hair.
[055]
198Śiva.
Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.
181
No way to earth she found, ashamed,
Though long and sore she strove,
Condemned, until her pride were tamed,
Amid his locks to rove.
There, many lengthening seasons through,
The wildered river ran:
Bhagírath saw it, and anew
His penance dire began.
Then Śiva, for the hermit's sake,
Bade her long wanderings end,
And sinking into Vindu's lake
Her weary waves descend.
From Gangá, by the God set free,
Seven noble rivers came;
Hládiní, Pávaní, and she
Called Naliní by name:
These rolled their lucid waves along
And sought the eastern side.
Suchakshu, Sítá fair and strong,
And Sindhu's mighty tide—199
These to the region of the west
With joyful waters sped:
The seventh, the brightest and the best,
Flowed where Bhagírath led.
On Śiva's head descending first
A rest the torrents found:
Then down in all their might they burst
And roared along the ground.
On countless glittering scales the beam
Of rosy morning flashed,
199The lake Vindu does not exist. Of the seven rivers here mentioned two only,
the Ganges and the Sindhu or Indus, are known to geographers. Hládiní means
the Gladdener, Pávaní the Purifier, Naliní the Lotus-Clad, and Suchakshu the
Fair-eyed.
182
The Ramayana
Where fish and dolphins through the stream
Fallen and falling dashed.
Then bards who chant celestial lays
And nymphs of heavenly birth
Flocked round upon that flood to gaze
That streamed from sky to earth.
The Gods themselves from every sphere,
Incomparably bright,
Borne in their golden cars drew near
To see the wondrous sight.
The cloudless sky was all aflame
With the light of a hundred suns
Where'er the shining chariots came
That bore those holy ones.
So flashed the air with crested snakes
And fish of every hue
As when the lightning's glory breaks
Through fields of summer blue.
And white foam-clouds and silver spray
Were wildly tossed on high,
Like swans that urge their homeward way
Across the autumn sky.
Now ran the river calm and clear
With current strong and deep:
Now slowly broadened to a mere,
Or scarcely seemed to creep.
Now o'er a length of sandy plain
Her tranquil course she held;
Now rose her waves and sank again,
By refluent waves repelled.
So falling first on Śiva's head,
Thence rushing to their earthly bed,
In ceaseless fall the waters streamed,
And pure with holy lustre gleamed.
Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.
183
Then every spirit, sage, and bard,
Condemned to earth by sentence hard,
Pressed eagerly around the tide
That Śiva's touch had sanctified.
Then they whom heavenly doom had hurled,
Accursed, to this lower world,
Touched the pure wave, and freed from sin
Resought the skies and entered in.
And all the world was glad, whereon
The glorious water flowed and shone,
For sin and stain were banished thence
By the sweet river's influence.
First, in a car of heavenly frame,
The royal saint of deathless name,
Bhagírath, very glorious rode,
And after him fair Gangá flowed.
God, sage, and bard, the chief in place
Of spirits and the Nága race,
Nymph, giant, fiend, in long array
Sped where Bhagírath led the way;
And all the hosts the flood that swim
Followed the stream that followed him.
Where'er the great Bhagírath led,
There ever glorious Gangá fled,
The best of floods, the rivers' queen,
Whose waters wash the wicked clean.
It chanced that Jahnu, great and good,
Engaged with holy offerings stood;
The river spread her waves around
Flooding his sacrificial ground.
The saint in anger marked her pride,
And at one draught her stream he dried.
Then God, and sage, and bard, afraid,
184
The Ramayana
To noble high-souled Jahnu prayed,
And begged that he would kindly deem
His own dear child that holy stream.
Moved by their suit, he soothed their fears
And loosed her waters from his ears.
Hence Gangá through the world is styled
Both Jáhnavi and Jahnu's child.
Then onward still she followed fast,
And reached the great sea bank at last.
Thence deep below her way she made
To end those rites so long delayed.
The monarch reached the Ocean's side,
And still behind him Gangá hied.
He sought the depths which open lay
Where Sagar's sons had dug their way.
So leading through earth's nether caves
The river's purifying waves,
[056]
Over his kinsmen's dust the lord
His funeral libation poured.
Soon as the flood their dust bedewed,
Their spirits gained beatitude,
And all in heavenly bodies dressed
Rose to the skies' eternal rest.
Then thus to King Bhagírath said
Brahmá, when, coming at the head
Of all his bright celestial train,
He saw those spirits freed from stain:
“Well done! great Prince of men, well done!
Thy kinsmen bliss and heaven have won.
The sons of Sagar mighty-souled,
Are with the Blest, as Gods, enrolled,
Long as the Ocean's flood shall stand
Upon the border of the land,
Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Gangá.
185
So long shall Sagar's sons remain,
And, godlike, rank in heaven retain.
Gangá thine eldest child shall be,
Called from thy name Bhágirathí;
Named also—for her waters fell
From heaven and flow through earth and hell—
Tripathagá, stream of the skies,
Because three paths she glorifies.
And, mighty King, 'tis given thee now
To free thee and perform thy vow.
No longer, happy Prince, delay
Drink-offerings to thy kin to pay.
For this the holiest Sagar sighed,
But mourned the boon he sought denied.
Then Anśumán, dear Prince! although
No brighter name the world could show,
Strove long the heavenly flood to gain
To visit earth, but strove in vain.
Nor was she by the sages' peer,
Blest with all virtues, most austere,
Thy sire Dilípa, hither brought,
Though with fierce prayers the boon he sought.
But thou, O King, earned success,
And won high fame which God will bless.
Through thee, O victor of thy foes,
On earth this heavenly Gangá flows,
And thou hast gained the meed divine
That waits on virtue such as thine.
Now in her ever holy wave
Thyself, O best of heroes, lave:
So shalt thou, pure from every sin,
The blessed fruit of merit win.
Now for thy kin who died of yore
The meet libations duly pour.
186
The Ramayana
Above the heavens I now ascend:
Depart, and bliss thy steps attend.”
Thus to the mighty king who broke
His foemens' might, Lord Brahmá spoke,
And with his Gods around him rose
To his own heaven of blest repose.
The royal sage no more delayed,
But, the libation duly paid,
Home to his regal city hied
With water cleansed and purified.
There ruled he his ancestral state,
Best of all men, most fortunate.
And all the people joyed again
In good Bhagírath's gentle reign.
Rich, prosperous, and blest were they,
And grief and sickness fled away.
Thus, Ráma, I at length have told
How Gangá came from heaven of old.
Now, for the evening passes swift,
I wish thee each auspicious gift.
This story of the flood's descent
Will give—for 'tis most excellent—
Wealth, purity, fame, length of days,
And to the skies its hearers raise”
Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.
Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.
187
High and more high their wonder rose
As the strange story reached its close,
And thus, with Lakshmaṇ, Ráma, best
Of Raghu's sons, the saint addressed:
“Most wondrous is the tale which thou
Hast told of heavenly Gangá, how
From realms above descending she
Flowed through the land and filled the sea.
In thinking o'er what thou hast said
The night has like a moment fled,
Whose hours in musing have been spent
Upon thy words most excellent:
So much, O holy Sage, thy lore
Has charmed us with this tale of yore.”
Day dawned. The morning rites were done
And the victorious Raghu's son
Addressed the sage in words like these,
Rich in his long austerities:
“The night is past: the morn is clear;
Told is the tale so good to hear:
Now o'er that river let us go,
Three-pathed, the best of all that flow.
This boat stands ready on the shore
To bear the holy hermits o'er,
Who of thy coming warned, in haste,
The barge upon the bank have placed.”
And Kuśik's son approved his speech,
And moving to the sandy beach,
Placed in the boat the hermit band,
And reached the river's further strand.
On the north bank their feet they set,
And greeted all the saints they met.
188
The Ramayana
On Gangá's shore they lighted down,
And saw Viśálá's lovely town.
Thither, the princes by his side,
The best of holy hermits hied.
It was a town exceeding fair
[057]
That might with heaven itself compare.
Then, suppliant palm to palm applied,
Famed Ráma asked his holy guide:
“O best of hermits, say what race
Of monarchs rules this lovely place.
Dear master, let my prayer prevail,
For much I long to hear the tale.”
Moved by his words, the saintly man
Viśálá's ancient tale began:
“List, Ráma, list, with closest heed
The tale of Indra's wondrous deed,
And mark me as I truly tell
What here in ancient days befell.
Ere Krita's famous Age200had fled,
Strong were the sons of Diti201bred;
And Aditi's brave children too
Were very mighty, good, and true.
The rival brothers fierce and bold
Were sons of Kaśyap lofty-souled.
Of sister mothers born, they vied,
Brood against brood, in jealous pride.
Once, as they say, band met with band,
And, joined in awful council, planned
To live, unharmed by age and time,
Immortal in their youthful prime.
Then this was, after due debate,
200The First or Golden Age.
201Diti and Aditi were wives of Kaśyap, and mothers respectively of Titans
and Gods.
Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.
189
The counsel of the wise and great,
To churn with might the milky sea202
The life-bestowing drink to free.
This planned, they seized the Serpent King,
Vásuki, for their churning-string,
And Mandar's mountain for their pole,
And churned with all their heart and soul.
As thus, a thousand seasons through,
This way and that the snake they drew,
Biting the rocks, each tortured head,
A very deadly venom shed.
Thence, bursting like a mighty flame,
A pestilential poison came,
Consuming, as it onward ran,
The home of God, and fiend, and man.
Then all the suppliant Gods in fear
To Śankar,203mighty lord, drew near.
To Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed,
“Save us, O save us, Lord!” they prayed.
Then Vishṇu, bearing shell, and mace,
And discus, showed his radiant face,
And thus addressed in smiling glee
The Trident wielding deity:
“What treasure first the Gods upturn
From troubled Ocean, as they churn,
Should—for thou art the eldest—be
Conferred, O best of Gods, on thee.
Then come, and for thy birthright's sake,
This venom as thy first fruits take.”
He spoke, and vanished from their sight,
When Śiva saw their wild affright,
And heard his speech by whom is borne
202One of the seven seas surrounding as many worlds in concentric rings.
203Śankar and Rudra are names of Śiva.
190
The Ramayana
The mighty bow of bending horn,204
The poisoned flood at once he quaffed
As 'twere the Amrit's heavenly draught.
Then from the Gods departing went
Śiva, the Lord pre-eminent.
The host of Gods and Asurs still
Kept churning with one heart and will.
But Mandar's mountain, whirling round,
Pierced to the depths below the ground.
Then Gods and bards in terror flew
To him who mighty Madhu slew.
“Help of all beings! more than all,
The Gods on thee for aid may call.
Ward off, O mighty-armed! our fate,
And bear up Mandar's threatening weight.”
Then Vishṇu, as their need was sore,
The semblance of a tortoise wore,
And in the bed of Ocean lay
The mountain on his back to stay.
Then he, the soul pervading all,
Whose locks in radiant tresses fall,
One mighty arm extended still,
And grasped the summit of the hill.
So ranged among the Immortals, he
Joined in the churning of the sea.
204“Śárṅgin, literally carrying a bow of horn, is a constantly recurring name
of Vishṇu. The Indians also, therefore, knew the art of making bows out of the
hons of antelopes or wild goats, which Homer ascribes to the Trojans of the
heroic age.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.
Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.
191
A thousand years had reached their close,
When calmly from the ocean rose
The gentle sage205with staff and can,
Lord of the art of healing man.
Then as the waters foamed and boiled,
As churning still the Immortals toiled,
Of winning face and lovely frame,
Forth sixty million fair ones came.
Born of the foam and water, these
Were aptly named Apsarases.206
[058]
Each had her maids. The tongue would fail—
So vast the throng—to count the tale.
But when no God or Titan wooed
A wife from all that multitude,
Refused by all, they gave their love
In common to the Gods above.
Then from the sea still vext and wild
Rose Surá,207Varuṇ's maiden child.
A fitting match she sought to find:
But Diti's sons her love declined,
205Dhanvantari, the physician of the Gods.
206The poet plays upon the word and fancifully derives it from apsu, the
locative case plural of ap, water, and rasa, taste.… The word is probably
derived from ap, water, and sri, to go, and seems to signify inhabitants of
the water, nymphs of the stream; or, as Goldstücker thinks (Dict. s.v.) these
divinities were originally personifications of the vapours which are attracted
by the sun and form into mist or clouds.
207“Surá, in the feminine comprehends all sorts of intoxicating liquors, many
kinds of which the Indians from the earliest times distilled and prepared from
rice, sugar-cane, the palm tree, and various flowers and plants. Nothing is
considered more disgraceful among orthodox Hindus than drunkenness, and
the use of wine is forbidden not only to Bráhmans but the two other orders
as well.… So it clearly appears derogatory to the dignity of the Gods to have
received a nymph so pernicious, who ought rather to have been made over to
the Titans. However the etymological fancy has prevailed. The word Sura, a
God, is derived from the indeclinable Swar heaven.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.
192
The Ramayana
Their kinsmen of the rival brood
To the pure maid in honour sued.
Hence those who loved that nymph so fair
The hallowed name of Suras bear.
And Asurs are the Titan crowd
Her gentle claims who disallowed.
Then from the foamy sea was freed
Uchchaihśravas,208the generous steed,
And Kaustubha, of gems the gem,209
And Soma, Moon God, after them.
At length when many a year had fled,
Up floated, on her lotus bed,
A maiden fair and tender-eyed,
In the young flush of beauty's pride.
She shone with pearl and golden sheen,
And seals of glory stamped her queen,
On each round arm glowed many a gem,
On her smooth brows, a diadem.
Rolling in waves beneath her crown
The glory of her hair flowed down,
Pearls on her neck of price untold,
The lady shone like burnisht gold.
Queen of the Gods, she leapt to land,
A lotus in her perfect hand,
And fondly, of the lotus-sprung,
To lotus-bearing Vishṇu clung.
208Literally, high-eared, the horse of Indra. Compare the production of the
horse from the sea by Neptune.
209
“And Kaustubha the best
Of gems that burns with living light
Upon Lord Vishṇu's breast.”
Churning of the Ocean.
Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit.
193
Her Gods above and men below
As Beauty's Queen and Fortune know.210
Gods, Titans, and the minstrel train
Still churned and wrought the troubled main.
At length the prize so madly sought,
The Amrit, to their sight was brought.
For the rich spoil, 'twixt these and those
A fratricidal war arose,
And, host 'gainst host in battle, set,
Aditi's sons and Diti's met.
United, with the giants' aid,
Their fierce attack the Titans made,
And wildly raged for many a day
That universe-astounding fray.
When wearied arms were faint to strike,
And ruin threatened all alike,
Vishṇu, with art's illusive aid,
The Amrit from their sight conveyed.
That Best of Beings smote his foes
Who dared his deathless arm oppose:
Yea, Vishṇu, all-pervading God,
Beneath his feet the Titans trod
Aditi's race, the sons of light,
slew Diti's brood in cruel fight.
210“That this story of the birth of Lakshmí is of considerable antiquity is
evident from one of her names Kshírábdhi-tanayá, daughter of the Milky Sea,
which is found in Amarasinha the most ancient of Indian lexicographers. The
similarity to the Greek myth of Venus being born from the foam of the sea is
remarkable.”
“In this description of Lakshmí one thing only offends me, that she is said
to have four arms. Each of Vishṇu's arms, single, as far as the elbow, there
branches into two; but Lakshmí in all the brass seals that I possess or remember
tohaveseenhastwoarmsonly. Nordoesthisdeformityofredundantlimbssuit
the pattern of perfect beauty.” SCHLEGEL{FNS. I have omitted the offensive
epithet.
194
The Ramayana
Then town-destroying211Indra gained
His empire, and in glory reigned
O'er the three worlds with bard and sage
Rejoicing in his heritage.
Canto XLVI. Diti's Hope.
But Diti, when her sons were slain,
Wild with a childless mother's pain,
To Kaśyap spake, Marícha's son,
Her husband: “O thou glorious one!
[059]
Dead are the children, mine no more,
The mighty sons to thee I bore.
Long fervour's meed, I crave a boy
Whose arm may Indra's life destroy.
The toil and pain my care shall be:
To bless my hope depends on thee.
Give me a mighty son to slay
Fierce Indra, gracious lord! I pray.”
211Purandhar, a common title of Indra.
Canto XLVI. Diti's Hope.
195
Then glorious Kaśyap thus replied
To Diti, as she wept and sighed:
“Thy prayer is heard, dear saint! Remain
Pure from all spot, and thou shalt gain
A son whose arm shall take the life
Of Indra in the battle strife.
For full a thousand years endure
Free from all stain, supremely pure;
Then shall thy son and mine appear,
Whom the three worlds shall serve with fear.”
These words the glorious Kaśyap said,
Then gently stroked his consort's head,
Blessed her, and bade a kind adieu,
And turned him to his rites anew.
Soon as her lord had left her side,
Her bosom swelled with joy and pride.
She sought the shade of holy boughs,
And there began her awful vows.
While yet she wrought her rites austere,
Indra, unbidden, hastened near,
With sweet observance tending her,
A reverential minister.
Wood, water, fire, and grass he brought,
Sweet roots and woodland fruit he sought,
And all her wants, the Thousand-eyed,
With never-failing care, supplied,
With tender love and soft caress
Removing pain and weariness.
When, of the thousand years ordained,
Ten only unfulfilled remained,
Thus to her son, the Thousand-eyed,
The Goddess in her triumph cried:
“Best of the mighty! there remain
196
The Ramayana
But ten short years of toil and pain;
These years of penance soon will flee,
And a new brother thou shalt see.
Him for thy sake I'll nobly breed,
And lust of war his soul shall feed;
Then free from care and sorrow thou
Shalt see the worlds before him bow.”212
Canto XLVII. Sumati.
Thus to Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed,
Softly beseeching Diti sighed.
When but a blighted bud was left,
Which Indra's hand in seven had cleft:213
“No fault, O Lord of Gods, is thine;
The blame herein is only mine.
But for one grace I fain would pray,
As thou hast reft this hope away.
This bud, O Indra, which a blight
Has withered ere it saw the light—
From this may seven fair spirits rise
To rule the regions of the skies.
Be theirs through heaven's unbounded space
212A few verses are here left untranslated on account of the subject and
language being offensive to modern taste.
213“In this myth of Indra destroying the unborn fruit of Diti with his thun-
derbolt, from which afterwards came the Maruts or Gods of Wind and Storm,
geological phenomena are, it seems, represented under mythical images. In
the great Mother of the Gods is, perhaps, figured the dry earth: Indra the God
of thunder rends it open, and there issue from its rent bosom the Maruts or
exhalations of the earth. But such ancient myths are difficult to interpret with
absolute certainty.” GORRESIO{FNS.
Canto XLVII. Sumati.
197
On shoulders of the winds to race,
My children, drest in heavenly forms,
Far-famed as Maruts, Gods of storms.
One God to Brahmá's sphere assign,
Let one, O Indra, watch o'er thine;
And ranging through the lower air,
The third the name of Váyu214bear.
Gods let the four remaining be,
And roam through space, obeying thee.”
The Town-destroyer, Thousand-eyed,
Who smote fierce Bali till he died,
Joined suppliant hands, and thus replied:
“Thy children heavenly forms shall wear;
The names devised by thee shall bear,
And, Maruts called by my decree,
Shall Amrit drink and wait on me.
From fear and age and sickness freed,
Through the three worlds their wings shall speed.”
Thus in the hermits' holy shade
Mother and son their compact made,
And then, as fame relates, content,
Home to the happy skies they went.
This is the spot—so men have told—
Where Lord Mahendra215dwelt of old,
This is the blessed region where
His votaress mother claimed his care.
Here gentle Alambúshá bare
To old Ikshváku, king and sage,
Viśála, glory of his age,
By whom, a monarch void of guilt,
Was this fair town Viśálá built.
[060]
214Wind.
215Indra, with mahá, great, prefixed.
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The Ramayana
His son was Hemachandra, still
Renowned for might and warlike skill.
From him the great Suchandra came;
His son, Dhúmráśva, dear to fame.
Next followed royal Srinjay; then
Famed Sahadeva, lord of men.
Next came Kuśáśva, good and mild,
Whose son was Somadatta styled,
And Sumati, his heir, the peer
Of Gods above, now governs here.
And ever through Ikshváku's grace,
Viśálá's kings, his noble race,
Are lofty-souled, and blest with length
Of days, with virtue, and with strength.
This night, O prince, we here will sleep;
And when the day begins to peep,
Our onward way will take with thee,
The king of Míthilá to see.”
Then Sumati, the king, aware
Of Viśvámitra's advent there,
Came quickly forth with honour meet
The lofty-minded sage to greet.
Girt with his priest and lords the king
Did low obeisance, worshipping,
With suppliant hands, with head inclined,
Thus spoke he after question kind;
“Since thou hast deigned to bless my sight,
And grace awhile thy servant's seat,
High fate is mine, great Anchorite,
And none may with my bliss compete.”
Canto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalyá
199
Canto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalyá
When mutual courtesies had past,
Viśálá's ruler spoke at last:
“These princely youths, O Sage, who vie
In might with children of the sky,
Heroic, born for happy fate,
With elephants' or lions' gait,
Bold as the tiger or the bull,
With lotus eyes so large and full,
Armed with the quiver, sword, and bow,
Whose figures like the Aśvins216show,
Like children of the deathless Powers,
Come freely to these shades of ours,217—
How have they reached on foot this place?
What do they seek, and what their race?
As sun and moon adorn the sky,
This spot the heroes glorify.
Alike in stature, port, and mien,
The same fair form in each is seen,”
He spoke; and at the monarch's call
The best of hermits told him all,
How in the grove with him they dwelt,
And slaughter to the demons dealt.
Then wonder filled the monarch's breast,
Who tended well each royal guest.
Thus entertained, the princely pair
Remained that night and rested there,
And with the morn's returning ray
To Mithilá pursued their way.
216The Heavenly Twins.
217Not banished from heaven as the inferior Gods and demigods sometimes
were.
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The Ramayana
When Janak's lovely city first
Upon their sight, yet distant, burst,
The hermits all with joyful cries
Hailed the fair town that met their eyes.
Then Ráma saw a holy wood,
Close, in the city's neighbourhood,
O'ergrown, deserted, marked by age,
And thus addressed the mighty sage:
“O reverend lord. I long to know
What hermit dwelt here long ago.”
Then to the prince his holy guide,
Most eloquent of men, replied:
“O Ráma, listen while I tell
Whose was this grove, and what befell
When in the fury of his rage
The high saint cursed the hermitage.
This was the grove—most lovely then—
Of Gautam, O thou best of men,
Like heaven itself, most honoured by
The Gods who dwell above the sky.
Here with Ahalyá at his side
His fervid task the ascetic plied.
Years fled in thousands. On a day
It chanced the saint had gone away,
When Town-destroying Indra came,
And saw the beauty of the dame.
The sage's form the God endued,
And thus the fair Ahalyá wooed:
“Love, sweet! should brook no dull delay
But snatch the moments when he may.”
She knew him in the saint's disguise,
Lord Indra of the Thousand Eyes,
But touched by love's unholy fire,
She yielded to the God's desire.
Canto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalyá
201
“Now, Lord of Gods!” she whispered, “flee,
From Gautam save thyself and me.”
Trembling with doubt and wild with dread
Lord Indra from the cottage fled;
But fleeing in the grove he met
The home-returning anchoret,
Whose wrath the Gods and fiends would shun,
Such power his fervent rites had won.
Fresh from the lustral flood he came,
In splendour like the burning flame,
With fuel for his sacred rites,
And grass, the best of eremites.
The Lord of Gods was sad of cheer
To see the mighty saint so near,
And when the holy hermit spied
In hermit's garb the Thousand-eyed,
[061]
He knew the whole, his fury broke
Forth on the sinner as he spoke:
“Because my form thou hast assumed,
And wrought this folly, thou art doomed,
For this my curse to thee shall cling,
Henceforth a sad and sexless thing.”
No empty threat that sentence came,
It chilled his soul and marred his frame,
His might and godlike vigour fled,
And every nerve was cold and dead.
Then on his wife his fury burst,
And thus the guilty dame he cursed:
“For countless years, disloyal spouse,
Devoted to severest vows,
Thy bed the ashes, air thy food,
Here shalt thou live in solitude.
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This lonely grove thy home shall be,
And not an eye thy form shall see.
When Ráma, Daśaratha's child,
Shall seek these shades then drear and wild,
His coming shall remove thy stain,
And make the sinner pure again.
Due honour paid to him, thy guest,
Shall cleanse thy fond and erring breast,
Thee to my side in bliss restore,
And give thy proper shape once more.”218
Thus to his guilty wife he said,
Then far the holy Gautam fled,
And on Himálaya's lovely heights
Spent the long years in sternest rites.”
Canto XLIX. Ahalyá Freed.
Then Ráma, following still his guide,
Within the grove, with Lakshmaṇ, hied,
Her vows a wondrous light had lent
To that illustrious penitent.
He saw the glorious lady, screened
From eye of man, and God, and fiend,
Like some bright portent which the care
218Kumárila says: “In the same manner, if it is said that Indra was the seducer
of Ahalyá this does not imply that the God Indra committed such a crime,
but Indra means the sun, and Ahalyá (from ahan and lí) the night; and as the
night is seduced and ruined by the sun of the morning, therefore is Indra called
the paramour of Ahalyá.” MAX MULLER{FNS, History of Ancient Sanskrit
Literature, p. 530.
Canto XLIX. Ahalyá Freed.
203
Of Brahmá launches through the air,
Designed by his illusive art
To flash a moment and depart:
Or like the flame that leaps on high
To sink involved in smoke and die:
Or like the full moon shining through
The wintry mist, then lost to view:
Or like the sun's reflection, cast
Upon the flood, too bright to last:
So was the glorious dame till then
Removed from Gods' and mortals' ken,
Till—such was Gautam's high decree—
Prince Ráma came to set her free.
Then, with great joy that dame to meet,
The sons of Raghu clapped her feet;
And she, remembering Gautam's oath,
With gentle grace received them both;
Then water for their feet she gave,
Guest-gift, and all that strangers crave.
The prince, of courteous rule aware,
Received, as meet, the lady's care.
Then flowers came down in copious rain,
And moving to the heavenly strain
Of music in the skies that rang,
The nymphs and minstrels danced and sang:
And all the Gods with one glad voice
Praised the great dame, and cried, “Rejoice!
Through fervid rites no more defiled,
But with thy husband reconciled.”
Gautam, the holy hermit knew—
For naught escaped his godlike view—
That Ráma lodged beneath that shade,
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The Ramayana
And hasting there his homage paid.
He took Ahalyá to his side,
From sin and folly purified,
And let his new-found consort bear
In his austerities a share.
Then Ráma, pride of Raghu's race,
Welcomed by Gautam, face to face,
Who every highest honour showed,
To Mithilá pursued his road.
Canto L. Janak.
The sons of Raghu journeyed forth,
Bending their steps 'twixt east and north.
Soon, guided by the sage, they found,
Enclosed, a sacrificial ground.
Then to the best of saints, his guide,
In admiration Ráma cried:
“The high-souled king no toil has spared,
But nobly for his rite prepared,
How many thousand Bráhmans here,
From every region, far and near,
Well read in holy lore, appear!
How many tents, that sages screen,
With wains in hundreds, here are seen!
Great Bráhman, let us find a place
Where we may stay and rest a space.”
The hermit did as Ráma prayed,
And in a spot his lodging made,
[062]
Far from the crowd, sequestered, clear,
With copious water flowing near.
Canto L. Janak.
205
Then Janak, best of kings, aware
Of Viśvámitra lodging there,
With Śatánanda for his guide—
The priest on whom he most relied,
His chaplain void of guile and stain—
And others of his priestly train,
Bearing the gift that greets the guest,
To meet him with all honour pressed.
The saint received with gladsome mind
Each honour and observance kind:
Then of his health he asked the king,
And how his rites were prospering,
Janak, with chaplain and with priest,
Addressed the hermits, chief and least,
Accosting all, in due degree,
With proper words of courtesy.
Then, with his palms together laid,
The king his supplication made:
“Deign, reverend lord, to sit thee down
With these good saints of high renown.”
Then sate the chief of hermits there,
Obedient to the monarch's prayer.
Chaplain and priest, and king and peer,
Sate in their order, far or near.
Then thus the king began to say:
“The Gods have blest my rite to-day,
And with the sight of thee repaid
The preparations I have made.
Grateful am I, so highly blest,
That thou, of saints the holiest,
Hast come, O Bráhman, here with all
These hermits to the festival.
Twelve days, O Bráhman Sage, remain—
For so the learned priests ordain—
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The Ramayana
And then, O heir of Kuśik's name,
The Gods will come their dues to claim.”
With looks that testified delight
Thus spake he to the anchorite,
Then with his suppliant hands upraised,
He asked, as earnestly he gazed:
“These princely youths, O Sage, who vie
In might with children of the sky,
Heroic, born for happy fate,
With elephants' or lions' gait,
Bold as the tiger and the bull,
With lotus eyes so large and full,
Armed with the quiver, sword and bow,
Whose figures like the Aśvins show,
Like children of the heavenly Powers,
Come freely to these shades of ours,—
How have they reached on foot this place?
What do they seek, and what their race?
As sun and moon adorn the sky,
This spot the heroes glorify:
Alike in stature, port, and mien,
The same fair form in each is seen.”219
Thus spoke the monarch, lofty-souled,
The saint, of heart unfathomed, told
How, sons of Daśaratha, they
Accompanied his homeward way,
How in the hermitage they dwelt,
And slaughter to the demons dealt:
Their journey till the spot they neared
219“The preceding sixteen lines have occurred before in Canto XLVIII. This
Homeric custom of repeating a passage of several lines is strange to our poet.
This is the only instance I remember. The repetition of single lines is common
enough.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.
Canto LI. Visvámitra.
207
Whence fair Viśálá's towers appeared:
Ahalyá seen and freed from taint;
Their meeting with her lord the saint;
And how they thither came, to know
The virtue of the famous bow.
Thus Viśvámitra spoke the whole
To royal Janak, great of soul,
And when this wondrous tale was o'er,
The glorious hermit said no more.
Canto LI. Visvámitra.
Wise Viśvámitra's tale was done:
Then sainted Gautam's eldest son,
Great Śatánanda, far-renowned,
Whom long austerities had crowned
With glory—as the news he heard
The down upon his body stirred,—
Filled full of wonder at the sight
Of Ráma, felt supreme delight.
When Śatánanda saw the pair
Of youthful princes seated there,
He turned him to the holy man
Who sate at ease, and thus began:
“And didst thou, mighty Sage, in truth
Show clearly to this royal youth
My mother, glorious far and wide,
Whom penance-rites have sanctified?
And did my glorious mother—she,
Heiress of noble destiny—
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The Ramayana
Serve her great guest with woodland store,
Whom all should honour evermore?
Didst thou the tale to Ráma tell
Of what in ancient days befell,
The sin, the misery, and the shame
Of guilty God and faithless dame?
And, O thou best of hermits, say,
Did Ráma's healing presence stay
Her trial? was the wife restored
Again to him, my sire and lord?
Say, Hermit, did that sire of mine
Receive her with a soul benign,
When long austerities in time
Had cleansed her from the taint of crime?
[063]
And, son of Kuśik, let me know,
Did my great-minded father show
Honour to Ráma, and regard,
Before he journeyed hitherward?”
The hermit with attentive ear
Marked all the questions of the seer:
To him for eloquence far-famed,
His eloquent reply he framed:
“Yea, 'twas my care no task to shun,
And all I had to do was done;
As Reṇuká and Bhrigu's child,
The saint and dame were reconciled.”
When the great sage had thus replied,
To Ráma Śatánanda cried:
“A welcome visit, Prince, is thine,
Thou scion of King Raghu's line.
With him to guide thy way aright,
This sage invincible in might,
This Bráhman sage, most glorious-bright,
Canto LI. Visvámitra.
209
By long austerities has wrought
A wondrous deed, exceeding thought:
Thou knowest well, O strong of arm,
This sure defence from scathe and harm.
None, Ráma, none is living now
In all the earth more blest than thou,
That thou hast won a saint so tried
In fervid rites thy life to guide.
Now listen, Prince, while I relate
His lofty deeds and wondrous fate.
He was a monarch pious-souled.
His foemen in the dust he rolled;
Most learned, prompt at duty's claim,
His people's good his joy and aim.
Of old the Lord of Life gave birth
To mighty Kuśa, king of earth.
His son was Kuśanábha, strong,
Friend of the right, the foe of wrong.
Gádhi, whose fame no time shall dim,
Heir of his throne was born to him,
And Viśvámitra, Gádhi's heir,
Governed the land with kingly care.
While years unnumbered rolled away
The monarch reigned with equal sway.
At length, assembling many a band,
He led his warriors round the land—
Complete in tale, a mighty force,
Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse.
Through cities, groves, and floods he passed,
O'er lofty hills, through regions vast.
He reached Vaśishṭha's pure abode,
Where trees, and flowers, and creepers glowed,
Where troops of sylvan creatures fed;
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The Ramayana
Which saints and angels visited.
Gods, fauns, and bards of heavenly race,
And spirits, glorified the place;
The deer their timid ways forgot,
And holy Bráhmans thronged the spot.
Bright in their souls, like fire, were these,
Made pure by long austerities,
Bound by the rule of vows severe,
And each in glory Brahmá's peer.
Some fed on water, some on air,
Some on the leaves that withered there.
Roots and wild fruit were others' food;
All rage was checked, each sense subdued,
There Bálakhilyas220went and came,
Now breathed the prayer, now fed the flame:
These, and ascetic bands beside,
The sweet retirement beautified.
Such was Vaśishṭha's blest retreat,
Like Brahmá's own celestial seat,
Which gladdened Viśvámitra's eyes,
Peerless for warlike enterprise.
Canto LII. Vasishtha's Feast.
220Divine personages of minute size produced from the hair of Brahmá, and
probably the origin of
“That small infantry
Warred on by cranes.”
Canto LII. Vasishtha's Feast.
211
Right glad was Viśvámitra when
He saw the prince of saintly men.
Low at his feet the hero bent,
And did obeisance, reverent.
The king was welcomed in, and shown
A seat beside the hermit's own,
Who offered him, when resting there,
Fruit in due course, and woodland fare.
And Viśvámitra, noblest king,
Received Vaśishṭha's welcoming,
Turned to his host, and prayed him tell
That he and all with him were well.
Vaśishṭha to the king replied
That all was well on every side,
That fire, and vows, and pupils throve,
And all the trees within the grove.
And then the son of Brahmá, best
Of all who pray with voice suppressed,
Questioned with pleasant words like these
The mighty king who sate at ease:
“And is it well with thee? I pray;
And dost thou win by virtuous sway
Thy people's love, discharging all
The duties on a king that fall?
Are all thy servants fostered well?
Do all obey, and none rebel?
Hast thou, destroyer of the foe,
No enemies to overthrow?
Does fortune, conqueror! still attend
Thy treasure, host, and every friend?
Is it all well? Does happy fate
On sons and children's children wait?”
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The Ramayana
He spoke. The modest king replied
That all was prosperous far and wide.
[064]
Thus for awhile the two conversed,
As each to each his tale rehearsed,
And as the happy moments flew,
Their joy and friendship stronger grew.
When such discourse had reached an end,
Thus spoke the saint most reverend
To royal Viśvámitra, while
His features brightened with a smile:
“O mighty lord of men. I fain
Would banquet thee and all thy train
In mode that suits thy station high:
And do not thou my prayer deny.
Let my good lord with favour take
The offering that I fain would make,
And let me honour, ere we part,
My royal guest with loving heart.”
Him Viśvámitra thus addressed:
“Why make, O Saint, this new request?
Thy welcome and each gracious word
Sufficient honour have conferred.
Thou gavest roots and fruit to eat,
The treasures of this pure retreat,
And water for my mouth and feet;
And—boon I prize above the rest—
Thy presence has mine eyesight blest.
Honoured by thee in every way,
To whom all honour all should pay,
I now will go. My lord, Good-bye!
Regard me with a friendly eye.”
Canto LIII. Visvámitra's Request.
213
Him speaking thus Vaśishṭha stayed,
And still to share his banquet prayed.
The will of Gádhi's son he bent,
And won the monarch to consent,
Who spoke in answer. “Let it be,
Great Hermit, as it pleases thee.”
When, best of those who breathe the prayer,
He heard the king his will declare,
He called the cow of spotted skin,
All spot without, all pure within.
“Come, Dapple-skin,” he cried, “with speed;
Hear thou my words and help at need.
My heart is set to entertain
This monarch and his mighty train
With sumptuous meal and worthy fare;
Be thine the banquet to prepare.
Each dainty cate, each goodly dish,
Of six-fold taste221as each may wish—
All these, O cow of heavenly power,
Rain down for me in copious shower:
Viands and drink for tooth and lip,
To eat, to suck, to quaff, to sip—
Of these sufficient, and to spare,
O plenty-giving cow, prepare.”
Canto LIII. Visvámitra's Request.
221Sweet, salt, pungent, bitter, acid, and astringent.
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The Ramayana
Thus charged, O slayer of thy foes,
The cow from whom all plenty flows,
Obedient to her saintly lord,
Viands to suit each taste, outpoured.
Honey she gave, and roasted grain,
Mead sweet with flowers, and sugar-cane.
Each beverage of flavour rare,
An food of every sort, were there:
Hills of hot rice, and sweetened cakes,
And curdled milk and soup in lakes.
Vast beakers foaming to the brim
With sugared drink prepared for him,
And dainty sweetmeats, deftly made,
Before the hermit's guests were laid.
So well regaled, so nobly fed,
The mighty army banqueted,
And all the train, from chief to least,
Delighted in Vaśishṭha's feast.
Then Viśvámitra, royal sage,
Surrounded by his vassalage,
Prince, peer, and counsellor, and all
From highest lord to lowest thrall,
Thus feasted, to Vaśishṭha cried
With joy, supremely gratified:
“Rich honour I, thus entertained,
Most honourable lord, have gained:
Now hear, before I journey hence,
My words, O skilled in eloquence.
Bought for a hundred thousand kine,
Let Dapple-skin, O Saint, be mine.
A wondrous jewel is thy cow,
And gems are for the monarch's brow.222
222“Of old hoards and minerals in the earth, the king is entitled to half by
reason of his general protection, and because he is the lord paramount of the
Canto LIII. Visvámitra's Request.
215
To me her rightful lord resign
This Dapple-skin thou callest thine.”
The great Vaśishṭha, thus addressed,
Arch-hermit of the holy breast,
To Viśvámitra answer made,
The king whom all the land obeyed:
“Not for a hundred thousand,—nay,
Not if ten million thou wouldst pay,
With silver heaps the price to swell,—
Will I my cow, O Monarch, sell.
Unmeet for her is such a fate.
That I my friend should alienate.
As glory with the virtuous, she
For ever makes her home with me.
On her mine offerings which ascend
To Gods and spirits all depend:
My very life is due to her,
My guardian, friend, and minister.
[065]
The feeding of the sacred flame,223
The dole which living creatures claim.224.
The mighty sacrifice by fire,
Each formula the rites require,225
And various saving lore beside,
Are by her aid, in sooth, supplied.
The banquet which thy host has shared,
soil.” MANU{FNS, Book VIII. 39.
223Ghí or clarified butter, “holy oil,” being one of the essentials of sacrifice.
224“A Bráhman had five principal duties to discharge every day: study and
teaching the Veda, oblations to the manes or spirits of the departed, sacrifice to
the Gods, hospitable offerings to men, and a gift of food to all creatures. The
last consisted of rice or other grain which the Bráhman was to offer every day
outside his house in the open air. MANU{FNS, Book III. 70.” GORRESIO{FNS
225These were certain sacred words of invocation such a sváhá, vashaṭ, etc.,
pronounced at the time of sacrifice.
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The Ramayana
Believe it, was by her prepared,
In her mine only treasures lie,
She cheers mine heart and charms mine eye.
And reasons more could I assign
Why Dapple-skin can ne'er be thine.”
The royal sage, his suit denied,
With eloquence more earnest cried:
“Tusked elephants, a goodly train,
Each with a golden girth and chain,
Whose goads with gold well fashioned shine—
Of these be twice seven thousand thine.
And four-horse cars with gold made bright,
With steeds most beautifully white,
Whose bells make music as they go,
Eight hundred, Saint, will I bestow.
Eleven thousand mettled steeds
From famous lands, of noble breeds—
These will I gladly give, O thou
Devoted to each holy vow.
Ten million heifers, fair to view,
Whose sides are marked with every hue—
These in exchange will I assign;
But let thy Dapple-skin be mine.
Ask what thou wilt, and piles untold
Of priceless gems and gleaming gold,
O best of Bráhmans, shall be thine;
But let thy Dapple-skin be mine.”
Canto LIV. The Battle.
217
The great Vaśishṭha, thus addressed,
Made answer to the king's request:
“Ne'er will I give my cow away,
My gem, my wealth, my life and stay.
My worship at the moon's first show,
And at the full, to her I owe;
And sacrifices small and great,
Which largess due and gifts await.
From her alone, their root, O King,
My rites and holy service spring.
What boots it further words to say?
I will not give my cow away
Who yields me what I ask each day.”
Canto LIV. The Battle.
As Saint Vaśishṭha answered so,
Nor let the cow of plenty go,
The monarch, as a last resource,
Began to drag her off by force.
While the king's servants tore away
Their moaning, miserable prey,
Sad, sick at heart, and sore distressed,
She pondered thus within her breast:
“Why am I thus forsaken? why
Betrayed by him of soul most high.
Vaśishṭha, ravished by the hands
Of soldiers of the monarch's bands?
Ah me! what evil have I done
Against the lofty-minded one,
That he, so pious, can expose
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The Ramayana
The innocent whose love he knows?”
In her sad breast as thus she thought,
And heaved deep sighs with anguish fraught,
With wondrous speed away she fled,
And back to Saint Vaśishṭha sped.
She hurled by hundreds to the ground
The menial crew that hemmed her round,
And flying swifter than the blast
Before the saint herself she cast.
There Dapple-skin before the saint
Stood moaning forth her sad complaint,
And wept and lowed: such tones as come
From wandering cloud or distant drum.
“O son of Brahmá,” thus cried she,
“Why hast thou thus forsaken me,
That the king's men, before thy face,
Bear off thy servant from her place?”
Then thus the Bráhman saint replied
To her whose heart with woe was tried,
And grieving for his favourite's sake,
As to a suffering sister spake:
“I leave thee not: dismiss the thought;
Nor, duteous, hast thou failed in aught.
This king, o'erweening in the pride
Of power, has reft thee from my side.
Little, I ween, my strength could do
'Gainst him, a mighty warrior too.
Strong, as a soldier born and bred,—
Great, as a king whom regions dread.
See! what a host the conqueror leads,
With elephants, and cars, and steeds.
O'er countless bands his pennons fly;
So is he mightier far than I.”
[066]
Canto LIV. The Battle.
219
He spoke. Then she, in lowly mood,
To that high saint her speech renewed:
“So judge not they who wisest are:
The Bráhman's might is mightier far.
For Bráhmans strength from Heaven derive,
And warriors bow when Bráhmans strive.
A boundless power 'tis thine to wield:
To such a king thou shouldst not yield,
Who, very mighty though he be,—
So fierce thy strength,—must bow to thee.
Command me, Saint. Thy power divine
Has brought me here and made me thine;
And I, howe'er the tyrant boast,
Will tame his pride and slay his host.”
Then cried the glorious sage: “Create
A mighty force the foe to mate.”
She lowed, and quickened into life,
Pahlavas,226burning for the strife,
King Viśvámitra's army slew
Before the very leader's view.
The monarch in excessive ire,
His eyes with fury darting fire,
Rained every missile on the foe
Till all the Pahlavas were low.
226“It is well known that the Persians were called Pahlavas by the Indians.
The Śakas are nomad tribes inhabiting Central Asia, the Scythes of the Greeks,
whom the Persians also, as Herodotus tells us, called Sakæ just as the Indians
did. Lib. VII 64 ὁι γὰρ Πέρσαι πάντας τοὺς Σύθας. καλέουσι Σάκας. The name
Yavans seems to be used rather indefinitely for nations situated beyond Persia
to the west.… After the time of Alexander the Great the Indians as well as the
Persians called the Greeks also Yavans.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.
Lassen thinks that the Pahlavas were the same people as the Πάκτυες of
Herodotus, and that this non-Indian people dwelt on the north-west confines of
India.
220
The Ramayana
She, seeing all her champions slain,
Lying by thousands on the plain.
Created, by her mere desire,
Yavans and Śakas, fierce and dire.
And all the ground was overspread
With Yavans and with Śakas dread:
A host of warriors bright and strong,
And numberless in closest throng:
The threads within the lotus stem,
So densely packed, might equal them.
In gold-hued mail 'against war's attacks,
Each bore a sword and battle-axe,
The royal host, where'er these came,
Fell as if burnt with ravening flame.
The monarch, famous through the world
Again his fearful weapons hurled,
That made Kámbojas,227Barbars,228all,
With Yavans, troubled, flee and fall.
Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.
So o'er the field that host lay strown,
By Viśvámitra's darts o'erthrown.
Then thus Vaśishṭha charged the cow:
“Create with all thy vigour now.”
227See page 13, note 6.
228Barbarians, non-Sanskrit-speaking tribes.
Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.
221
Forth sprang Kámbojas, as she lowed;
Bright as the sun their faces glowed,
Forth from her udder Barbars poured,—
Soldiers who brandished spear and sword,—
And Yavans with their shafts and darts,
And Śakas from her hinder parts.
And every pore upon her fell,
And every hair-producing cell,
With Mlechchhas229and Kirátas230teemed,
And forth with them Hárítas streamed.
And Viśvámitra's mighty force,
Car, elephant, and foot, and horse,
Fell in a moment's time, subdued
By that tremendous multitude.
The monarch's hundred sons, whose eyes
Beheld the rout in wild surprise,
Armed with all weapons, mad with rage,
Rushed fiercely on the holy sage.
One cry he raised, one glance he shot,
And all fell scorched upon the spot:
Burnt by the sage to ashes, they
With horse, and foot, and chariot, lay.
The monarch mourned, with shame and pain,
His army lost, his children slain,
Like Ocean when his roar is hushed,
Or some great snake whose fangs are crushed:
[067]
229A comprehensive term for foreign or outcast races of different faith and
language from the Hindus.
230The Kirátas and Hárítas are savage aborigines of India who occupy hills
and jungles and are altogether different in race and character from the Hindus.
Dr. Muir remarks in his Sanskrit Texts, Vol. I. p. 488 (second edition) that it
does not appear that it is the object of this legend to represent this miraculous
creation as the origin of these tribes, and that nothing more may have been
intended than that the cow called into existence large armies, of the same stock
with particular tribes previously existing.
222
The Ramayana
Or as in swift eclipse the Sun
Dark with the doom he cannot shun:
Or a poor bird with mangled wing—
So, reft of sons and host, the king
No longer, by ambition fired,
The pride of war his breast inspired.
He gave his empire to his son—
Of all he had, the only one:
And bade him rule as kings are taught
Then straight a hermit-grove he sought.
Far to Himálaya's side he fled,
Which bards and Nágas visited,
And, Mahádeva's231grace to earn,
He gave his life to penance stern.
A lengthened season thus passed by,
When Śiva's self, the Lord most High,
Whose banner shows the pictured bull,232
Appeared, the God most bountiful:
“Why fervent thus in toil and pain?
What brings thee here? what boon to gain?
Thy heart's desire, O Monarch, speak:
I grant the boons which mortals seek.”
The king, his adoration paid,
To Mahádeva answer made:
“If thou hast deemed me fit to win
Thy favour, O thou void of sin,
On me, O mighty God, bestow
The wondrous science of the bow,
All mine, complete in every part,
With secret spell and mystic art.
To me be all the arms revealed
231The Great God, Śiva.
232Nandi, the snow-white bull, the attendant and favourite vehicle of Śiva.
Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.
223
That Gods, and saints, and Titans wield,
And every dart that arms the hands
Of spirits, fiends and minstrel bands,
Be mine, O Lord supreme in place,
This token of thy boundless grace.”
The Lord of Gods then gave consent,
And to his heavenly mansion went.
Triumphant in the arms he held,
The monarch's breast with glory swelled.
So swells the ocean, when upon
His breast the full moon's beams have shone.
Already in his mind he viewed
Vaśishṭha at his feet subdued.
He sought that hermit's grove, and there
Launched his dire weapons through the air,
Till scorched by might that none could stay
The hermitage in ashes lay.
Where'er the inmates saw, aghast,
The dart that Viśvámitra cast,
To every side they turned and fled
In hundreds forth disquieted.
Vaśishṭha's pupils caught the fear,
And every bird and every deer,
And fled in wild confusion forth
Eastward and westward, south and north,
And so Vaśishṭha's holy shade
A solitary wild was made,
Silent awhile, for not a sound
Disturbed the hush that was around.
224
The Ramayana
Vaśishṭha then, with eager cry,
Called, “Fear not, friends, nor seek to fly.
This son of Gádhi dies to-day,
Like hoar-frost in the morning's ray.”
Thus having said, the glorious sage
Spoke to the king in words of rage:
“Because thou hast destroyed this grove
Which long in holy quiet throve,
By folly urged to senseless crime,
Now shalt thou die before thy time.”
Canto LVI. Visvámitra's Vow.
But Viśvámitra, at the threat
Of that illustrious anchoret,
Cried, as he launched with ready hand
A fiery weapon, “Stand, O Stand!”
Vaśishṭha, wild with rage and hate,
Raising, as 'twere the Rod of Fate,
His mighty Bráhman wand on high,
To Viśvámitra made reply:
“Nay, stand, O Warrior thou, and show
What soldier can, 'gainst Bráhman foe.
O Gádhi's son, thy days are told;
Thy pride is tamed, thy dart is cold.
How shall a warrior's puissance dare
With Bráhman's awful strength compare?
To-day, base Warrior, shall thou feel
That God-sent might is more than steel.”
He raised his Bráhman staff, nor missed
The fiery dart that near him hissed:
Canto LVI. Visvámitra's Vow.
225
And quenched the fearful weapon fell,
As flame beneath the billow's swell.
Then Gádhi's son in fury threw
Lord Varuṇ's arm and Rudra's too:
Indra's fierce bolt that all destroys;
That which the Lord of Herds employs:
The Human, that which minstrels keep,
The deadly Lure, the endless Sleep:
The Yawner, and the dart which charms;
Lament and Torture, fearful arms:
The Terrible, the dart which dries,
The Thunderbolt which quenchless flies,
And Fate's dread net, and Brahmá's noose,
And that which waits for Varuṇ's use:
The dart he loves who wields the bow
Pináka, and twin bolts that glow
With fury as they flash and fly,
The quenchless Liquid and the Dry:
The dart of Vengeance, swift to kill:
The Goblins' dart, the Curlew's Bill:
[068]
The discus both of Fate and Right,
And Vishṇu's, of unerring flight:
The Wind-God's dart, the Troubler dread,
The weapon named the Horse's Head.
From his fierce hand two spears were thrown,
And the great mace that smashes bone;
The dart of spirits of the air,
And that which Fate exults to bear:
The Trident dart which slaughters foes,
And that which hanging skulls compose:233
233“The names of many of these weapons which are mythical and partly alle-
gorical have occurred in Canto XXIX. The general signification of the story is
clear enough. It is a contest for supremacy between the regal or military order
226
The Ramayana
These fearful darts in fiery rain
He hurled upon the saint amain,
An awful miracle to view.
But as the ceaseless tempest flew,
The sage with wand of God-sent power
Still swallowed up that fiery shower.
Then Gádhi's son, when these had failed,
With Brahmá's dart his foe assailed.
The Gods, with Indra at their head,
And Nágas, quailed disquieted,
And saints and minstrels, when they saw
The king that awful weapon draw;
And the three worlds were filled with dread,
And trembled as the missile sped.
The saint, with Bráhman wand, empowered
By lore divine that dart devoured.
Nor could the triple world withdraw
Rapt gazes from that sight of awe;
For as he swallowed down the dart
Of Brahmá, sparks from every part,
From finest pore and hair-cell, broke
Enveloped in a veil of smoke.
The staff he waved was all aglow
Like Yáma's sceptre, King below,
Or like the lurid fire of Fate
Whose rage the worlds will desolate.
and Bráhmanical or priestly authority, like one of those struggles which our
own Europe saw in the middle ages when without employing warlike weapons
the priesthood frequently gained the victory.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.
For a full account of the early contests between the Bráhmans and the
Kshattriyas, see Muir's Original Sanskrit Texts (Second edition) Vol. I. Ch.
IV.
Canto LVII. Trisanku.
227
The hermits, whom that sight had awed,
Extolled the saint, with hymn and laud:
“Thy power, O Sage, is ne'er in vain:
Now with thy might thy might restrain.
Be gracious, Master, and allow
The worlds to rest from trouble now;
For Viśvámitra, strong and dread,
By thee has been discomfited.”
Then, thus addressed, the saint, well pleased,
The fury of his wrath appeased.
The king, o'erpowered and ashamed,
With many a deep-drawn sigh exclaimed:
“Ah! Warriors' strength is poor and slight;
A Bráhman's power is truly might.
This Bráhman staff the hermit held
The fury of my darts has quelled.
This truth within my heart impressed,
With senses ruled and tranquil breast
My task austere will I begin,
And Bráhmanhood will strive to win.”
Canto LVII. Trisanku.
Then with his heart consumed with woe,
Still brooding on his overthrow
By the great saint he had defied,
At every breath the monarch sighed.
Forth from his home his queen he led,
And to a land far southward fled.
There, fruit and roots his only food,
228
The Ramayana
He practised penance, sense-subdued,
And in that solitary spot
Four virtuous sons the king begot:
Havishyand, from the offering named,
And Madhushyand, for sweetness famed,
Mahárath, chariot-borne in fight,
And Driḍhanetra strong of sight.
A thousand years had passed away,
When Brahmá, Sire whom all obey,
Addressed in pleasant words like these
Him rich in long austerities:
“Thou by the penance, Kuśik's son,
A place 'mid royal saints hast won.
Pleased with thy constant penance, we
This lofty rank assign to thee.”
Thus spoke the glorious Lord most High
Father of earth and air and sky,
And with the Gods around him spread
Home to his changeless sphere he sped.
But Viśvámitra scorned the grace,
And bent in shame his angry face.
Burning with rage, o'erwhelmed with grief,
Thus in his heart exclaimed the chief:
“No fruit, I ween, have I secured
By strictest penance long endured,
If Gods and all the saints decree
To make but royal saint of me.”
Thus pondering, he with sense subdued,
With sternest zeal his vows renewed.
[069]
Canto LVII. Trisanku.
229
Then reigned a monarch, true of soul,
Who kept each sense in firm control;
Of old Ikshváku's line he came,
That glories in Triśanku's234name.
Within his breast, O Raghu's child,
Arose a longing, strong and wild,
Great offerings to the Gods to pay,
And win, alive, to heaven his way.
His priest Vaśishṭha's aid he sought,
And told him of his secret thought.
But wise Vaśishṭha showed the hope
Was far beyond the monarch's scope.
Triśanku then, his suit denied,
Far to the southern region hied,
To beg Vaśishṭha's sons to aid
The mighty plan his soul had made.
There King Triśanku, far renowned,
Vaśishṭha's hundred children found,
Each on his fervent vows intent,
For mind and fame preëminent.
To these the famous king applied,
Wise children of his holy guide.
Saluting each in order due.
His eyes, for shame, he downward threw,
And reverent hands together pressed,
The glorious company addressed:
“I as a humble suppliant seek
Succour of you who aid the weak.
A mighty offering I would pay,
234“Triśanku, king of Ayodhyá, was seventh in descent from Ikshváku, and
Daśaratha holds the thirty-fourth place in the same genealogy. See Canto LXX.
We are thrown back, therefore, to very ancient times, and it occasions some
surprise to find Vaśishṭha and Viśvámitra, actors in these occurences, still alive
in Rama's time.”
230
The Ramayana
But sage Vaśishṭha answered, Nay.
Be yours permission to accord,
And to my rites your help afford.
Sons of my guide, to each of you
With lowly reverence here I sue;
To each, intent on penance-vow,
O Bráhmans, low my head I bow,
And pray you each with ready heart
In my great rite to bear a part,
That in the body I may rise
And dwell with Gods within the skies.
Sons of my guide, none else I see
Can give what he refuses me.
Ikshváku's children still depend
Upon their guide most reverend;
And you, as nearest in degree
To him, my deities shall be!”
Canto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed.
Triśanku's speech the hundred heard,
And thus replied, to anger stirred:
“Why foolish King, by him denied,
Whose truthful lips have never lied,
Dost thou transgress his prudent rule,
And seek, for aid, another school?235
235“It does not appear how Triśanku, in asking the aid of Vaśishṭha's sons
after applying in vain to their father, could be charged with resorting to another
śákhá (School) in the ordinary sense of that word; as it is not conceivable
that the sons should have been of another Śákhá from the father, whose cause
they espouse with so much warmth. The commentator in the Bombay edition
Canto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed.
231
Ikshváku's sons have aye relied
Most surely on their holy guide:
Then how dost thou, fond Monarch, dare
Transgress the rule his lips declare?
“Thy wish is vain,” the saint replied,
And bade thee cast the plan aside.
Then how can we, his sons, pretend
In such a rite our aid to lend?
O Monarch, of the childish heart,
Home to thy royal town depart.
That mighty saint, thy priest and guide,
At noblest rites may well preside:
The worlds for sacrifice combined
A worthier priest could never find.”
Such speech of theirs the monarch heard,
Though rage distorted every word,
And to the hermits made reply:
“You, like your sire, my suit deny.
For other aid I turn from you:
So, rich in penance, Saints, adieu!”
Vaśishṭha's children heard, and guessed
His evil purpose scarce expressed,
And cried, while rage their bosoms burned,
“Be to a vile Chaṇḍála236turned!”
[070]
This said, with lofty thoughts inspired,
Each to his own retreat retired.
explains the word Śákhantaram as Yájanádiná rakshántaram, ‘one who by
sacrificing for thee, etc., will be another protector.’ Gorresio's Gauḍa text,
which may often be used as a commentary on the older one, has the following
paraphrase of the words in question, ch. 60, 3. Múlam utsṛijya kasmát tvam
sákhásv ichhasi lambitum. ‘Why, forsaking the root, dost thou desire to hang
upon the branches?’” MUIR{FNS, Sanskrit Texts, Vol. I., p. 401.
236A Chaṇḍála was a man born of the illegal and impure union of a Śúdra with
a woman of one of the three higher castes.
232
The Ramayana
That night Triśanku underwent
Sad change in shape and lineament.
Next morn, an outcast swart of hue,
His dusky cloth he round him drew.
His hair had fallen from his head,
And roughness o'er his skin was spread.
Such wreaths adorned him as are found
To flourish on the funeral ground.
Each armlet was an iron ring:
Such was the figure of the king,
That every counsellor and peer,
And following townsman, fled in fear.
Alone, unyielding to dismay,
Though burnt by anguish night and day,
Great Viśvámitra's side he sought,
Whose treasures were by penance bought.
The hermit with his tender eyes
Looked on Triśanku's altered guise,
And grieving at his ruined state
Addressed him thus, compassionate:
“Great King,” the pious hermit said,
“What cause thy steps has hither led,
Ayodhyá's mighty Sovereign, whom
A curse has plagued with outcast's doom?”
In vile Chaṇḍála237shape, the king
Heard Viśvámitra's questioning,
And, suppliant palm to palm applied,
With answering eloquence he cried:
237“TheChaṇḍálawasregardedasthevilestandmostabjectofthemensprung
from wedlock forbidden by the law (Mánavadharmaśástra, Lib. X. 12.); a kind
of social malediction weighed upon his head and rejected him from human
society.” GORRESIO{FNS.
Canto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed.
233
“My priest and all his sons refused
To aid the plan on which I mused.
Failing to win the boon I sought,
To this condition I was brought.
I, in the body, Saint, would fain
A mansion in the skies obtain.
I planned a hundred rites for this,
But still was doomed the fruit to miss.
Pure are my lips from falsehood's stain,
And pure they ever shall remain,—
Yea, by a Warrior's faith I swear,—
Though I be tried with grief and care.
Unnumbered rites to Heaven I paid,
With righteous care the sceptre swayed;
And holy priest and high-souled guide
My modest conduct gratified.
But, O thou best of hermits, they
Oppose my wish these rites to pay;
They one and all refuse consent,
Nor aid me in my high intent.
Fate is, I ween, the power supreme,
Man's effort but an idle dream,
Fate whirls our plans, our all away;
Fate is our only hope and stay;
Now deign, O blessed Saint, to aid
Me, even me by Fate betrayed,
Who come, a suppliant, sore distressed,
One grace, O Hermit, to request.
No other hope or way I see:
No other refuge waits for me.
Oh, aid me in my fallen state,
And human will shall conquer Fate.”
234
The Ramayana
Canto LIX. The Sons Of Vasishtha.
Then Kuśik's son, by pity warmed,
Spoke sweetly to the king transformed:
“Hail! glory of Ikshváku's line:
I know how bright thy virtues shine.
Dismiss thy fear, O noblest Chief,
For I myself will bring relief.
The holiest saints will I invite
To celebrate thy purposed rite:
So shall thy vow, O King, succeed,
And from thy cares shalt thou be freed.
Thou in the form which now thou hast,
Transfigured by the curse they cast,—
Yea, in the body, King, shalt flee,
Transported, where thou fain wouldst be.
O Lord of men, I ween that thou
Hast heaven within thy hand e'en now,
For very wisely hast thou done,
And refuge sought with Kuśik's son.”
Thus having said, the sage addressed
His sons, of men the holiest,
And bade the prudent saints whate'er
Was needed for the rite prepare.
The pupils he was wont to teach
He summoned next, and spoke this speech:
“Go bid Vaśishṭha'a sons appear,
And all the saints be gathered here.
And what they one and all reply
When summoned by this mandate high,
To me with faithful care report,
Omit no word and none distort.”
Canto LIX. The Sons Of Vasishtha.
235
The pupils heard, and prompt obeyed,
To every side their way they made.
Then swift from every quarter sped
The sages in the Vedas read.
Back to that saint the envoys came,
Whose glory shone like burning flame,
And told him in their faithful speech
The answer that they bore from each:
“Submissive to thy word, O Seer,
The holy men are gathering here.
By all was meet obedience shown:
Mahodaya238refused alone.
[071]
And now, O Chief of hermits, hear
What answer, chilling us with fear,
Vaśishṭha's hundred sons returned,
Thick-speaking as with rage they burned:
“How will the Gods and saints partake
The offerings that the prince would make,
And he a vile and outcast thing,
His ministrant one born a king?
Can we, great Bráhmans, eat his food,
And think to win beatitude,
By Viśvámitra purified?”
Thus sire and sons in scorn replied,
And as these bitter words they said,
Wild fury made their eyeballs red.
Their answer when the arch-hermit heard,
His tranquil eyes with rage were blurred;
Great fury in his bosom woke,
And thus unto the youths he spoke:
“Me, blameless me they dare to blame,
238This appellation, occuring nowhere else in the poem except as the name of
a city, appears twice in this Canto as a name of Vaśishṭha.
236
The Ramayana
And disallow the righteous claim
My fierce austerities have earned:
To ashes be the sinners turned.
Caught in the noose of Fate shall they
To Yáma's kingdom sink to-day.
Seven hundred times shall they be born
To wear the clothes the dead have worn.
Dregs of the dregs, too vile to hate,
The flesh of dogs their maws shall sate.
In hideous form, in loathsome weed,
A sad existence each shall lead.
Mahodaya too, the fool who fain
My stainless life would try to stain,
Stained in the world with long disgrace
Shall sink into a fowler's place.
Rejoicing guiltless blood to spill,
No pity through his breast shall thrill.
Cursed by my wrath for many a day,
His wretched life for sin shall pay.”
Thus, girt with hermit, saint, and priest,
Great Viśvámitra spoke—and ceased.
Canto LX. Trisanku's Ascension.
Canto LX. Trisanku's Ascension.
237
So with ascetic might, in ire,
He smote the children and the sire.
Then Viśvámitra, far-renowned,
Addressed the saints who gathered round:
“See by my side Triśanku stand,
Ikshváku's son, of liberal hand.
Most virtuous and gentle, he
Seeks refuge in his woe with me.
Now, holy men, with me unite,
And order so his purposed rite
That in the body he may rise
And win a mansion in the skies.”
They heard his speech with ready ear
And, every bosom filled with fear
Of Viśvámitra, wise and great,
Spoke each to each in brief debate:
“The breast of Kuśik's son, we know,
With furious wrath is quick to glow.
Whate'er the words he wills to say,
We must, be very sure, obey.
Fierce is our lord as fire, and straight
May curse us all infuriate.
So let us in these rites engage,
As ordered by the holy sage.
And with our best endeavour strive
That King Ikshváku's son, alive,
In body to the skies may go
By his great might who wills it so.”
238
The Ramayana
Then was the rite begun with care:
All requisites and means were there:
And glorious Viśvámitra lent
His willing aid as president.
And all the sacred rites were done
By rule and use, omitting none.
By chaplain-priest, the hymns who knew,
In decent form and order due.
Some time in sacrifice had past,
And Viśvámitra made, at last,
The solemn offering with the prayer
That all the Gods might come and share.
But the Immortals, one and all,
Refused to hear the hermit's call.
Then red with rage his eyeballs blazed:
The sacred ladle high he raised,
And cried to King Ikshváku's son:
“Behold my power, by penance won:
Now by the might my merits lend,
Ikshváku's child, to heaven ascend.
In living frame the skies attain,
Which mortals thus can scarcely gain.
My vows austere, so long endured,
Have, as I ween, some fruit assured.
Upon its virtue, King, rely,
And in thy body reach the sky.”
His speech had scarcely reached its close,
When, as he stood, the sovereign rose,
And mounted swiftly to the skies
Before the wondering hermits' eyes.
Canto LX. Trisanku's Ascension.
239
But Indra, when he saw the king
His blissful regions entering,
With all the army of the Blest
Thus cried unto the unbidden guest:
“With thy best speed, Triśanku, flee:
Here is no home prepared for thee.
By thy great master's curse brought low,
Go, falling headlong, earthward go.”
Thus by the Lord of Gods addressed,
Triśanku fell from fancied rest,
And screaming in his swift descent,
“O, save me, Hermit!” down he went.
And Viśvámitra heard his cry,
And marked him falling from the sky,
And giving all his passion sway,
Cried out in fury, “Stay, O stay!”
[072]
By penance-power and holy lore,
Like Him who framed the worlds of yore,
Seven other saints he fixed on high
To star with light the southern sky.
Girt with his sages forth he went,
And southward in the firmament
New wreathed stars prepared to set
In many a sparkling coronet.
He threatened, blind with rage and hate,
Another Indra to create,
Or, from his throne the ruler hurled,
All Indraless to leave the world.
Yea, borne away by passion's storm,
The sage began new Gods to form.
But then each Titan, God, and saint,
Confused with terror, sick and faint,
To high souled Viśvámitra hied,
240
The Ramayana
And with soft words to soothe him tried:
“Lord of high destiny, this king,
To whom his master's curses cling,
No heavenly home deserves to gain,
Unpurified from curse and stain.”
The son of Kuśik, undeterred,
The pleading of the Immortals heard,
And thus in haughty words expressed
The changeless purpose of his breast:
“Content ye, Gods: I soothly sware
Triśanku to the skies to bear
Clothed in his body, nor can I
My promise cancel or deny.
Embodied let the king ascend
To life in heaven that ne'er shall end.
And let these new-made stars of mine
Firm and secure for ever shine.
Let these, my work, remain secure
Long as the earth and heaven endure.
This, all ye Gods, I crave: do you
Allow the boon for which I sue.”
Then all the Gods their answer made:
“So be it, Saint, as thou hast prayed.
Beyond the sun's diurnal way
Thy countless stars in heaven shall stay:
And 'mid them hung, as one divine,
Head downward shall Triśanku shine;
And all thy stars shall ever fling
Their rays attendant on the king.”239
239“The seven ancient rishis or saints, as has been said before, were the seven
stars of Ursa Major. The seven other new saints which are here said to have
been created by Viśvámitra should be seven new southern stars, a sort of new
Ursa. Von Schlegel thinks that this mythical fiction of new stars created by
Canto LXI. Sunahsepha.
241
The mighty saint, with glory crowned,
With all the sages compassed round,
Praised by the Gods, gave full assent,
And Gods and sages homeward went.
Canto LXI. Sunahsepha.
Then Viśvámitra, when the Blest
Had sought their homes of heavenly rest,
Thus, mighty Prince, his counsel laid
Before the dwellers of the shade:
“The southern land where now we are
Offers this check our rites to bar:240
To other regions let us speed,
And ply our tasks from trouble freed.
Now turn we to the distant west.
To Pushkar's241wood where hermits rest,
Viśvámitra may signify that these southern stars, unknown to the Indians as
long as they remained in the neighbourhood of the Ganges, became known
to them at a later date when they colonized the southern regions of India.”
GORRESIO{FNS.
240“This cannot refer to the events just related: for Viśvámitra was successful
in the sacrifice performed for Triśanku. And yet no other impediment is
mentioned. Still his restless mind would not allow him to remain longer in
the same spot. So the character of Viśvámitra is ingeniously and skilfully
shadowed forth: as he had been formerly a most warlike king, loving battle
and glory, bold, active, sometimes unjust, and more frequently magnanimous,
such also he always shows himself in his character of anchorite and ascetic.”
SCHLEGEL{FNS.
241Near the modern city of Ajmere. The place is sacred still, and the name is
preserved in the Hindí. Lassen, however, says that this Pushkala or Pushkara,
called by the Grecian writers Πευκελίτις, the earliest place of pilgrimage
mentioned by name, is not to be confounded with the modern Pushkara in
Ajmere.
242
The Ramayana
And there to rites austere apply,
For not a grove with that can vie.”
The saint, in glory's light arrayed,
In Pushkar's wood his dwelling made,
And living there on roots and fruit
Did penance stern and resolute.
The king who filled Ayodhyá's throne,
By Ambarísha's name far known,
At that same time, it chanced, began
A sacrificial rite to plan.
But Indra took by force away
The charger that the king would slay.
The victim lost, the Bráhman sped
To Ambarísha's side, and said:
“Gone is the steed, O King, and this
Is due to thee, in care remiss.
[073]
Such heedless faults will kings destroy
Who fail to guard what they enjoy.
The flaw is desperate: we need
The charger, or a man to bleed.
Quick! bring a man if not the horse,
That so the rite may have its course.”
Canto LXI. Sunahsepha.
243
The glory of Ikshváku's line
Made offer of a thousand kine,
And sought to buy at lordly price
A victim for the sacrifice.
To many a distant land he drove,
To many a people, town, and grove,
And holy shades where hermits rest,
Pursuing still his eager quest.
At length on Bhrigu's sacred height
The saint Richíka met his sight
Sitting beneath the holy boughs.
His children near him, and his spouse.
The mighty lord drew near, assayed
To win his grace, and reverence paid;
And then the sainted king addressed
The Bráhman saint with this request:
“Bought with a hundred thousand kine,
Give me, O Sage, a son of thine
To be a victim in the rite,
And thanks the favour shall requite.
For I have roamed all countries round,
Nor sacrificial victim found.
Then, gentle Hermit, deign to spare
One child amid the number there.”
Then to the monarch's speech replied
The hermit, penance-glorified:
“For countless kine, for hills of gold,
Mine eldest son shall ne'er be sold.”
But, when she heard the saint's reply,
The children's mother, standing nigh,
Words such as these in answer said
To Ambarísha, monarch dread:
244
The Ramayana
“My lord, the saint, has spoken well:
His eldest child he will not sell.
And know, great Monarch, that above
The rest my youngest born I love.
'Tis ever thus: the father's joy
Is centred in his eldest boy.
The mother loves her darling best
Whom last she rocked upon her breast:
My youngest I will ne'er forsake.”
As thus the sire and mother spake,
Young Śunahśepha, of the three
The midmost, cried unurged and free:
“My sire withholds his eldest son,
My mother keeps her youngest one:
Then take me with thee, King: I ween
The son is sold who comes between.”
The king with joy his home resought,
And took the prize his kine had bought.
He bade the youth his car ascend,
And hastened back the rites to end.242
So the ram caught in
the thicket took the place of Isaac, or, as the
Musalmáns say, of Ishmael.
242“Ambarísha is the twenty-ninth in descent from Ikshváku, and is there-
fore separated by an immense space of time from Triśanku in whose story
Viśvámitra had played so important a part. Yet Richíka, who is represented as
having young sons while Ambarísha was yet reigning being himself the son of
Bhrigu and to be numbered with the most ancient sages, is said to have married
the younger sister of Viśvámitra. But I need not again remark that there is a
perpetual anachronism in Indian mythology.” SCHLEGEL.{FNS.
“In the mythical story related in this and the following Canto we may
discover, I think, some indication of the epoch at which the immolation of
lower animals was substituted for human sacrifice.… So when Iphigenia was
about to be sacrificed at Aulis, one legend tells us that a hind was substituted
for the virgin.” GORRESIO{FNS.
Canto LXII. Ambarísha's Sacrifice.
245
Canto LXII. Ambarísha's Sacrifice.
As thus the king that youth conveyed,
His weary steeds at length he stayed
At height of noon their rest to take
Upon the bank of Pushkar's lake.
There while the king enjoyed repose
The captive Śunahśepha rose,
And hasting to the water's side
His uncle Viśvámitra spied,
With many a hermit 'neath the trees
Engaged in stern austerities.
Distracted with the toil and thirst,
With woeful mien, away he burst,
Swift to the hermit's breast he flew,
And weeping thus began to sue:
“No sire have I, no mother dear,
No kith or kin my heart to cheer:
As justice bids, O Hermit, deign
To save me from the threatened pain.
O thou to whom the wretched flee,
And find a saviour, Saint, in thee,
Now let the king obtain his will,
And me my length of days fulfil,
That rites austere I too may share,
May rise to heaven and rest me there.
With tender soul and gentle brow
Be guardian of the orphan thou,
And as a father pities, so
Preserve me from my fear and woe.”
246
The Ramayana
When Viśvámitra, glorious saint,
Had heard the boy's heart-rending plaint.
He soothed his grief, his tears he dried,
[074]
Then called his sons to him, and cried:
“The time is come for you to show
The duty and the aid bestow
For which, regarding future life,
A man gives children to his wife.
This hermit's son, whom here you see
A suppliant, refuge seeks with me.
O sons, the friendless youth befriend,
And, pleasing me, his life defend.
For holy works you all have wrought,
True to the virtuous life I taught.
Go, and as victims doomed to bleed,
Die, and Lord Agni's hunger feed.
So shall the rite completed end,
This orphan gain a saving friend,
Due offerings to the Gods be paid,
And your own father's voice obeyed.”
Then Madhushyand and all the rest
Answered their sire with scorn and jest:
“What! aid to others' sons afford,
And leave thine own to die, my lord!
To us it seems a horrid deed,
As 'twere on one's own flesh to feed.”
The hermit heard his sons' reply,
And burning rage inflamed his eye.
Then forth his words of fury burst:
“Audacious speech, by virtue cursed!
It lifts on end each shuddering hair—
My charge to scorn! my wrath to dare!
Canto LXII. Ambarísha's Sacrifice.
247
You, like Vaśishṭha's evil brood,
Shall make the flesh of dogs your food
A thousand years in many a birth,
And punished thus shall dwell on earth.”
Thus on his sons his curse he laid.
Then calmed again that youth dismayed,
And blessed him with his saving aid:
“When in the sacred fetters bound,
And with a purple garland crowned,
At Vishṇu's post thou standest tied,
With lauds be Agni glorified.
And these two hymns of holy praise
Forget not, Hermit's son, to raise
In the king's rite, and thou shalt be
Lord of thy wish, preserved, and free.”
He learnt the hymns with mind intent,
And from the hermit's presence went.
To Ambarísha thus he spake:
“Let us our onward journey take.
Haste to thy home, O King, nor stay
The lustral rites with slow delay.”
The boy's address the monarch cheered,
And soon the sacred ground he neared.
The convocation's high decree
Declared the youth from blemish free;
Clothed in red raiment he was tied
A victim at the pillar's side.
There bound, the Fire-God's hymn he raised,
And Indra and Upendra praised.
Thousand-eyed Vishṇu, pleased to hear
The mystic laud, inclined his ear,
And won by worship, swift to save,
248
The Ramayana
Long life to Śunahśepha gave.
The king in bounteous measure gained
The fruit of sacrifice ordained,
By grace of Him who rules the skies,
Lord Indra of the thousand eyes.
And Viśvámitra evermore.
Pursued his task on Pushkar's shore
Until a thousand years had past
In fierce austerity and fast.
Canto LXIII. Menaká.
A thousand years had thus flown by
When all the Gods within the sky,
Eager that he the fruit might gain
Of fervent rite and holy pain,
Approached the great ascetic, now
Bathed after toil and ended vow.
Then Brahmá speaking for the rest
With sweetest words the sage addressed:
“Hail, Saint! This high and holy name
Thy rites have won, thy merits claim.”
Canto LXIII. Menaká.
249
Thus spoke the Lord whom Gods revere,
And sought again his heavenly sphere.
But Viśvámitra, more intent,
His mind to sterner penance bent.
So many a season rolled away,
When Menaká, fair nymph, one day
Came down from Paradise to lave
Her perfect limbs in Pushkar's wave,
The glorious son of Kuśik saw
That peerless shape without a flaw
Flash through the flood's translucent shroud
Like lightning gleaming through a cloud.
He saw her in that lone retreat,
Most beautiful from head to feet,
And by Kandarpa's243might subdued
He thus addressed her as he viewed:
“Welcome, sweet nymph! O deign, I pray,
In these calm shades awhile to stay.
To me some gracious favour show,
For love has set my breast aglow.”
He spoke. The fairest of the fair
Made for awhile her dwelling there,
While day by day the wild delight
Stayed vow austere and fervent rite
There as the winsome charmer wove
Her spells around him in the grove,
And bound him in a golden chain,
Five sweet years fled, and five again.
Then Viśvámitra woke to shame,
And, fraught with anguish, memory came
For quick he knew, with anger fired,
That all the Immortals had conspired
[075]
243The Indian Cupid.
250
The Ramayana
To lap his careless soul in ease,
And mar his long austerities.
“Ten years have past, each day and night
Unheeded in delusive flight.
So long my fervent rites were stayed,
While thus I lay by love betrayed.”
As thus long sighs the hermit heaved,
And, touched with deep repentance, grieved,
He saw the fair one standing nigh
With suppliant hands and trembling eye.
With gentle words he bade her go,
Then sought the northern hills of snow.
With firm resolve he vowed to beat
The might of love beneath his feet.
Still northward to the distant side
Of Kauśikí244, the hermit hide,
And gave his life to penance there
With rites austere most hard to bear.
A thousand years went by, and still
He laboured on the northern hill
With pains so terrible and drear
That all the Gods were chilled with fear,
244“The same as she whose praises Viśvámitra has already sung in Canto
XXXV, and whom the poet brings yet alive upon the scene in Canto LXI. Her
proper name was Satyavatí (Truthful); the patronymic, Kauśikí was preserved
by the river into which she is said to have been changed, and is still recognized
in the corrupted forms Kuśa and Kuśí. The river flows from the heights of
the Himálaya towards the Ganges, bounding on the east the country of Videha
(Behar). The name is no doubt half hidden in the Cosoagus of Pliny and the
Kossounos of Arrian. But each author has fallen into the same error in his
enumeration of these rivers (Condochatem, Erannoboam, Cosoagum, Sonum).
The Erannoboas, (Hiraṇyaváha) and the Sone are not different streams, but
well-known names of the same river. Moreover the order is disturbed, in which
on the right and left they fall into the Ganges. To be consistent with geogra-
phy it should be written: Erannoboam sive Sonum, Condochatem (Gandakí),
Cosoagum.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.
Canto LXIII. Menaká.
251
And Gods and saints, for swift advice,
Met in the halls of Paradise.
“Let Kuśik's son,” they counselled, “be
A Mighty saint by just decree.”
His ear to hear their counsel lent
The Sire of worlds, omnipotent.
To him enriched by rites severe
He spoke in accents sweet to hear:
“Hail, Mighty Saint! dear son, all hail!
Thy fervour wins, thy toils prevail.
Won by thy vows and zeal intense
I give this high preëminence.”
He to the General Sire replied,
Not sad, nor wholly satisfied:
“When thou, O Brahmá, shalt declare
The title, great beyond compare,
Of Bráhman saint my worthy meed,
Hard earned by many a holy deed,
Then may I deem in sooth I hold
Each sense of body well controlled.”
Then Brahmá cried, “Not yet, not yet:
Toil on awhile O Anchoret!”
252
The Ramayana
Thus having said to heaven he went,
The saint, upon his task intent,
Began his labours to renew,
Which sterner yet and fiercer grew.
His arms upraised, without a rest,
With but one foot the earth he pressed;
The air his food, the hermit stood
Still as a pillar hewn from wood.
Around him in the summer days
Five mighty fires combined to blaze.
In floods of rain no veil was spread
Save clouds, to canopy his head.
In the dank dews both night and day
Couched in the stream the hermit lay.
Thus, till a thousand years had fled,
He plied his task of penance dread.
Then Vishṇu and the Gods with awe
The labours of the hermit saw,
And Śakra, in his troubled breast,
Lord of the skies, his fear confessed.
And brooded on a plan to spoil
The merits of the hermit's toil.
Encompassed by his Gods of Storm
He summoned Rambhá, fair of form,
And spoke a speech for woe and weal,
The saint to mar, the God to heal.
Canto LXIV. Rambhá.
Canto LXIV. Rambhá.
253
“A great emprise, O lovely maid,
To save the Gods, awaits thine aid:
To bind the son of Kuśik sure,
And take his soul with love's sweet lure.”
Thus order'd by the Thousand-eyed
The suppliant nymph in fear replied:
“O Lord of Gods, this mighty sage
Is very fierce and swift to rage.
I doubt not, he so dread and stern
On me his scorching wrath will turn.
Of this, my lord, am I afraid:
Have mercy on a timid maid.”
Her suppliant hands began to shake,
When thus again Lord Indra spake:
“O Rambhá, drive thy fears away,
And as I bid do thou obey.
In Koïl's form, who takes the heart
When trees in spring to blossom start,
I, with Kandarpa for my friend,
Close to thy side mine aid will lend.
[076]
Do thou thy beauteous splendour arm
With every grace and winsome charm,
And from his awful rites seduce
This Kuśik's son, the stern recluse.”
Lord Indra ceased. The nymph obeyed:
In all her loveliest charms arrayed,
With winning ways and witching smile
She sought the hermit to beguile.
The sweet note of that tuneful bird
The saint with ravished bosom heard,
And on his heart a rapture passed
As on the nymph a look he cast.
But when he heard the bird prolong
254
The Ramayana
His sweet incomparable song,
And saw the nymph with winning smile,
The hermit's heart perceived the wile.
And straight he knew the Thousand-eyed
A plot against his peace had tried.
Then Kuśik's son indignant laid
His curse upon the heavenly maid:
“Because thou wouldst my soul engage
Who fight to conquer love and rage,
Stand, till ten thousand years have flown,
Ill-fated maid, transformed to stone.
A Bráhman then, in glory strong,
Mighty through penance stern and long,
Shall free thee from thine altered shape;
Thou from my curse shalt then escape.”
But when the saint had cursed her so,
His breast was burnt with fires of woe,
Grieved that long effort to restrain
His mighty wrath was all in vain.
Cursed by the angry sage's power,
She stood in stone that selfsame hour.
Kandarpa heard the words he said,
And quickly from his presence fled.
His fall beneath his passion's sway
Had reft the hermit's meed away.
Unconquered yet his secret foes,
The humbled saint refused repose:
“No more shall rage my bosom till,
Sealed be my lips, my tongue be still.
My very breath henceforth I hold
Until a thousand years are told:
Victorious o'er each erring sense,
I'll dry my frame with abstinence,
Until by penance duly done
Canto LXV. Visvámitra's Triumph
255
A Bráhman's rank be bought and won.
For countless years, as still as death,
I taste no food, I draw no breath,
And as I toil my frame shall stand
Unharmed by time's destroying hand.”
Canto LXV. Visvámitra's Triumph
Then from Himálaya's heights of snow,
The glorious saint prepared to go,
And dwelling in the distant east
His penance and his toil increased.
A thousand years his lips he held
Closed by a vow unparalleled,
And other marvels passing thought,
Unrivalled in the world, he wrought.
In all the thousand years his frame
Dry as a log of wood became.
By many a cross and check beset,
Rage had not stormed his bosom yet.
With iron will that naught could bend
He plied his labour till the end.
So when the weary years were o'er,
Freed from his vow so stern and sore,
The hermit, all his penance sped,
Sate down to eat his meal of bread.
Then Indra, clad in Bráhman guise,
Asked him for food with hungry eyes.
The mighty saint, with steadfast soul,
To the false Bráhman gave the whole,
And when no scrap for him remained,
256
The Ramayana
Fasting and faint, from speech refrained.
His silent vow he would not break:
No breath he heaved, no word he spake,
Then as he checked his breath, behold!
Around his brow thick smoke-clouds rolled
And the three worlds, as if o'erspread
With ravening flames, were filled with dread.
Then God and saint and bard, convened,
And Nága lord, and snake, and fiend,
Thus to the General Father cried,
Distracted, sad, and terrified:
“Against the hermit, sore assailed,
Lure, scathe, and scorn have naught availed,
Proof against rage and treacherous art
He keeps his vow with constant heart.
Now if his toils assist him naught
To gain the boon his soul has sought,
He through the worlds will ruin send
That fixt and moving things shall end,
The regions now are dark with doom,
No friendly ray relieves the gloom.
Each ocean foams with maddened tide,
The shrinking hills in fear subside.
Trembles the earth with feverous throe
The wind in fitful tempest blows.
No cure we see with troubled eyes:
And atheist brood on earth may rise.
The triple world is wild with care,
Or spiritless in dull despair.
Before that saint the sun is dim,
His blessed light eclipsed by him.
Now ere the saint resolve to bring
Destruction on each living thing,
Let us appease, while yet we may,
Canto LXV. Visvámitra's Triumph
257
Him bright as fire, like fire to slay.
Yea, as the fiery flood of Fate
Lays all creation desolate,
He o'er the conquered Gods may reign:
O, grant him what he longs to gain.”
[077]
Then all the Blest, by Brahmá led,
Approached the saint and sweetly said:
“Hail, Bráhman Saint! for such thy place:
Thy vows austere have won our grace.
A Bráhman's rank thy penance stern
And ceaseless labour richly earn.
I with the Gods of Storm decree
Long life, O Bráhman Saint, to thee.
May peace and joy thy soul possess:
Go where thou wilt in happiness.”
Thus by the General Sire addressed,
Joy and high triumph filled his breast.
His head in adoration bowed,
Thus spoke he to the Immortal crowd:
“If I, ye Gods, have gained at last
Both length of days and Bráhman caste,
Grant that the high mysterious name,
And holy Vedas, own my claim,
And that the formula to bless
The sacrifice, its lord confess.
And let Vaśishṭha, who excels
In Warriors' art and mystic spells,
In love of God without a peer,
Confirm the boon you promise here.”
258
The Ramayana
With Brahmá's son Vaśishṭha, best
Of those who pray with voice repressed,
The Gods by earnest prayer prevailed,
And thus his new-made friend he hailed:
“Thy title now is sure and good
To rights of saintly Bráhmanhood.”
Thus spake the sage. The Gods, content,
Back to their heavenly mansions went.
And Viśvámitra, pious-souled,
Among the Bráhman saints enrolled,
On reverend Vaśishṭha pressed
The honours due to holy guest.
Successful in his high pursuit,
The sage, in penance resolute,
Walked in his pilgrim wanderings o'er
The whole broad land from shore to shore.
'Twas thus the saint, O Raghu's son,
His rank among the Bráhmans won.
Best of all hermits, Prince, is he;
In him incarnate Penance see.
Friend of the right, who shrinks from ill,
Heroic powers attend him still.”
The Bráhman, versed in ancient lore,
Thus closed his tale, and said no more,
To Śatánanda Kuśik's son
Cried in delight, Well done! well done!
Then Janak, at the tale amazed,
Spoke thus with suppliant hands upraised:
“High fate is mine, O Sage, I deem,
And thanks I owe for bliss supreme,
That thou and Raghu's children too
Have come my sacrifice to view.
To look on thee with blessed eyes
Canto LXVI. Janak's Speech.
259
Exalts my soul and purifies.
Yea, thus to see thee face to face
Enriches me with store of grace.
Thy holy labours wrought of old,
And mighty penance, fully told,
Ráma and I with great delight
Have heard, O glorious Anchorite.
Unrivalled thine ascetic deeds:
Thy might, O Saint, all might exceeds.
No thought may scan, no limit bound
The virtues that in thee are found.
The story of thy wondrous fate
My thirsty ears can never sate.
The hour of evening rites is near:
The sun declines in swift career.
At early dawn, O Hermit, deign
To let me see thy face again.
Best of ascetics, part in bliss:
Do thou thy servant now dismiss.”
The saint approved, and glad and kind
Dismissed the king with joyful mind
Around the sage King Janak went
With priests and kinsmen reverent.
Then Viśvámitra, honoured so,
By those high-minded, rose to go,
And with the princes took his way
To seek the lodging where they lay.
Canto LXVI. Janak's Speech.
260
The Ramayana
With cloudless lustre rose the sun;
The king, his morning worship done,
Ordered his heralds to invite
The princes and the anchorite.
With honour, as the laws decree,
The monarch entertained the three.
Then to the youths and saintly man
Videha's lord this speech began:
“O blameless Saint, most welcome thou!
If I may please thee tell me how.
Speak, mighty lord, whom all revere,
'Tis thine to order, mine to hear.”
Thus he on mighty thoughts intent;
Then thus the sage most eloquent:
“King Daśaratha's sons, this pair
Of warriors famous everywhere,
Are come that best of bows to see
That lies a treasure stored by thee.
This, mighty Janak, deign to show,
That they may look upon the bow,
And then, contented, homeward go.”
Then royal Janak spoke in turn:
“O best of Saints, the story learn
Why this famed bow, a noble prize,
A treasure in my palace lies.
A monarch, Devarát by name,
Who sixth from ancient Nimi came,
Held it as ruler of the land,
A pledge in his successive hand.
This bow the mighty Rudra bore
[078]
At Daksha's245sacrifice of yore,
245“Daksha was one of the ancient Progenitors or Prajápatis created by Brah-
má. The sacrifice which is here spoken of and in which Śankar or Śiva (called
Canto LXVI. Janak's Speech.
261
When carnage of the Immortals stained
The rite that Daksha had ordained.
Then as the Gods sore wounded fled,
Victorious Rudra, mocking, said:
“Because, O Gods, ye gave me naught
When I my rightful portion sought,
Your dearest parts I will not spare,
But with my bow your frames will tear.”
The Sons of Heaven, in wild alarm,
Soft flatteries tried his rage to charm.
Then Bhava, Lord whom Gods adore,
Grew kind and friendly as before,
And every torn and mangled limb
Was safe and sound restored by him.
Thenceforth this bow, the gem of bows,
That freed the God of Gods from foes,
Stored by our great forefathers lay
A treasure and a pride for aye.
Once, as it chanced, I ploughed the ground,
When sudden, 'neath the share was found
An infant springing from the earth,
Named Sítá from her secret birth.246
In strength and grace the maiden grew,
My cherished daughter, fair to view.
also here Rudra and Bhava) smote the Gods because he had not been invited to
share the sacred oblations with them, seems to refer to the origin of the worship
of Śiva, to its increase and to the struggle it maintained with other older forms
of worship.” GORRESIO{FNS.
246Sítá means a furrow.
“Great Erectheus swayed,
That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid,
But from the teeming furrow took his birth,
The mighty offspring of the foodful earth.”
Iliad, Book II.
262
The Ramayana
I vowed her, of no mortal birth,
Meet prize for noblest hero's worth.
In strength and grace the maiden grew,
And many a monarch came to woo.
To all the princely suitors I
Gave, mighty Saint, the same reply:
“I give not thus my daughter, she
Prize of heroic worth shall be.247
To Míthilá the suitors pressed
Their power and might to manifest.
To all who came with hearts aglow
I offered Śiva's wondrous bow.
Not one of all the royal band
Could raise or take the bow in hand.
The suitors' puny might I spurned,
And back the feeble princes turned.
Enraged thereat, the warriors met,
With force combined my town beset.
Stung to the heart with scorn and shame,
With war and threats they madly came,
Besieged my peaceful walls, and long
To Míthilá did grievous wrong.
There, wasting all, a year they lay,
And brought my treasures to decay,
Filling my soul, O Hermit chief,
With bitter woe and hopeless grief.
At last by long-wrought penance I
Won favour with the Gods on high,
Who with my labours well content
A four-fold host to aid me sent.
Then swift the baffled heroes fled
To all the winds discomfited—
247“The whole story of Sítá, as will be seen in the course of the poem has a
great analogy with the ancient myth of Proserpine.” GORRESIO{FNS.
Canto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.
263
Wrong-doers, with their lords and host,
And all their valour's idle boast.
This heavenly bow, exceeding bright,
These youths shall see, O Anchorite.
Then if young Ráma's hand can string
The bow that baffled lord and king,
To him I give, as I have sworn,
My Sítá, not of woman born.”
Canto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.
Then spoke again the great recluse:
“This mighty bow, O King, produce.”
King Janak, at the saint's request,
This order to his train addressed:
“Let the great bow be hither borne,
Which flowery wreaths and scents adorn.”
Soon as the monarch's words were said,
His servants to the city sped,
Five thousand youths in number, all
Of manly strength and stature tall,
The ponderous eight-wheeled chest that held
The heavenly bow, with toil propelled.
At length they brought that iron chest,
And thus the godlike king addressed:
“This best of bows, O lord, we bring,
Respected by each chief and king,
And place it for these youths to see,
If, Sovereign, such thy pleasure be.”
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The Ramayana
With suppliant palm to palm applied
King Janak to the strangers cried:
“This gem of bows, O Bráhman Sage,
Our race has prized from age to age,
Too strong for those who yet have reigned,
Though great in might each nerve they strained.
[079]
Titan and fiend its strength defies,
God, spirit, minstrel of the skies.
And bard above and snake below
Are baffled by this glorious bow.
Then how may human prowess hope
With such a bow as this to cope?
What man with valour's choicest gift
This bow can draw, or string, or lift?
Yet let the princes, holy Seer,
Behold it: it is present here.”
Then spoke the hermit pious-souled:
“Ráma, dear son, the bow behold.”
Then Ráma at his word unclosed
The chest wherein its might reposed,
Thus crying, as he viewed it: “Lo!
I lay mine hand upon the bow:
May happy luck my hope attend
Its heavenly strength to lift or bend.”
“Good luck be thine,” the hermit cried:
“Assay the task!” the king replied.
Then Raghu's son, as if in sport,
Before the thousands of the court,
The weapon by the middle raised
That all the crowd in wonder gazed.
With steady arm the string he drew
Till burst the mighty bow in two.
As snapped the bow, an awful clang,
Canto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.
265
Loud as the shriek of tempests, rang.
The earth, affrighted, shook amain
As when a hill is rent in twain.
Then, senseless at the fearful sound,
The people fell upon the ground:
None save the king, the princely pair,
And the great saint, the shock could bear.
When woke to sense the stricken train,
And Janak's soul was calm again,
With suppliant hands and reverent head,
These words, most eloquent, he said:
“O Saint, Prince Ráma stands alone:
His peerless might he well has shown.
A marvel has the hero wrought
Beyond belief, surpassing thought.
My child, to royal Ráma wed,
New glory on our line will shed:
And true my promise will remain
That hero's worth the bride should gain.
Dearer to me than light and life,
My Sítá shall be Ráma's wife.
If thou, O Bráhman, leave concede,
My counsellors, with eager speed,
Borne in their flying cars, to fair
Ayodhyá's town the news shall bear,
With courteous message to entreat
The king to grace my royal seat.
This to the monarch shall they tell,
The bride is his who won her well:
And his two sons are resting here
Protected by the holy seer.
So, at his pleasure, let them lead
The sovereign to my town with speed.”
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The hermit to his prayer inclined
And Janak, lord of virtuous mind,
With charges, to Ayodhyá sent
His ministers: and forth they went.
Canto LXVIII. The Envoys' Speech.
Three nights upon the road they passed
To rest the steeds that bore them fast,
And reached Ayodhyá's town at last.
Then straight at Daśaratha's call
They stood within the royal hall,
Where, like a God, inspiring awe,
The venerable king they saw.
With suppliant palm to palm applied,
And all their terror laid aside,
They spoke to him upon the throne
With modest words, in gentle tone:
“Janak, Videha's king, O Sire,
Has sent us hither to inquire
The health of thee his friend most dear,
Of all thy priests and every peer.
Next Kuśik's son consenting, thus
King Janak speaks, dread liege, by us:
“I made a promise and decree
That valour's prize my child should be.
Kings, worthless found in worth's assay,
With mien dejected turned away.
Thy sons, by Viśvámitra led,
Unurged, my city visited,
And peerless in their might have gained
Canto LXVIII. The Envoys' Speech.
267
My daughter, as my vow ordained.
Full in a vast assembly's view
Thy hero Ráma broke in two
The gem of bows, of monstrous size,
That came a treasure from the skies.
Ordained the prize of hero's might,
Sítá my child is his by right.
Fain would I keep my promise made,
If thou, O King, approve and aid.
Come to my town thy son to see:
Bring holy guide and priest with thee.
O lord of kings, my suit allow,
And let me keep my promised vow.
So joying for thy children's sake
Their triumph too shalt thou partake,
With Viśvámitra's high consent.”
Such words with friendship eloquent
Spoke Janak, fair Videha's king,
By Śatánanda's counselling.”
The envoys thus the king addressed,
And mighty joy his heart possessed.
To Vámadeva quick he cried,
Vaśishṭha, and his lords beside:
“Lakshmaṇ, and he, my princely boy
Who fills Kauśalyá's soul with joy,
By Viśvámitra guarded well
Among the good Videhans dwell.
[080]
Their ruler Janak, prompt to own
The peerless might my child has shown,
To him would knit in holy ties
His daughter, valour's lovely prize.
If Janak's plan seem good to you,
Come, speed we to his city too,
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The Ramayana
Nor let occasion idly by.”
He ceased. There came a glad reply
From priest and mighty saint and all
The councillors who thronged the hall.
Then cried the king with joyous heart:
“To-morrow let us all depart.”
That night the envoys entertained
With honour and all care remained.
Canto LXIX. Dasaratha's Visit.
Soon as the shades of night had fled,
Thus to the wise Sumantra said
The happy king, while priest and peer,
Each in his place, were standing near:
“Let all my treasurers to-day,
Set foremost in the long array,
With gold and precious gems supplied
In bounteous store, together ride.
And send you out a mighty force,
Foot, chariot, elephant, and horse.
Besides, let many a car of state,
And noblest steeds, my will await.
Vaśishṭha, Vámadeva sage,
And Márkaṇdeya's reverend age,
Jáváli, Kaśyap's godlike seed,
And wise Kátyáyana, shall lead.
Thy care, Sumantra, let it be
To yoke a chariot now for me,
That so we part without delay:
These envoys hasten me away.”
Canto LXIX. Dasaratha's Visit.
269
So fared he forth. That host, with speed,
Quadruple, as the king decreed,
With priests to head the bright array,
Followed the monarch on his way.
Four days they travelled on the road,
And eve Videha's kingdom showed.
Janak had left his royal seat
The venerable king to greet,
And, noblest, with these words addressed
That noblest lord, his happy guest:
“Hail, best of kings: a blessed fate
Has led thee, Monarch, to my state.
Thy sons, supreme in high emprise,
Will gladden now their father's eyes.
And high my fate, that hither leads
Vaśishṭha, bright with holy deeds,
Girt with these sages far-renowned,
Like Indra with the Gods around.
Joy! joy! for vanquished are my foes:
Joy! for my house in glory grows,
With Raghu's noblest sons allied,
Supreme in strength and valour's pride.
To-morrow with its early light
Will shine on my completed rite.
Then, sanctioned by the saints and thee,
The marriage of thy Ráma see.”
Then Daśaratha, best of those
Whose speech in graceful order flows,
With gathered saints on every side,
Thus to the lord of earth replied:
“A truth is this I long have known,
A favour is the giver's own.
What thou shalt bid, O good and true,
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The Ramayana
We, as our power permits, will do.”
That answer of the truthful lord,
With virtuous worth and honour stored,
Janak, Videha's noble king,
Heard gladly, greatly marvelling.
With bosoms filled with pleasure met
Long-parted saint and anchoret,
And linked in friendship's tie they spent
The peaceful night in great content.
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ thither sped,
By sainted Viśvámitra led,
And bent in filial love to greet
Their father, and embraced his feet.
The aged king, rejoiced to hear
And see again his children dear,
Honoured by Janak's thoughtful care,
With great enjoyment rested there.
King Janak, with attentive heed,
Consulted first his daughters' need,
And ordered all to speed the rite;
Then rested also for the night.
Canto LXX. The Maidens Sought.
Canto LXX. The Maidens Sought.
271
Then with the morn's returning sun.
King Janak, when his rites were done,
Skilled all the charms of speech to know,
Spoke to wise Śatánanda so:
“My brother, lord of glorious fame,
My younger, Kuśadhwaj by name,
Whose virtuous life has won renown,
Has settled in a lovely town,
Sánkáśyá, decked with grace divine,
Whose glories bright as Pushpak's shine,
While Ikshumatí rolls her wave
Her lofty rampart's foot to lave.
Him, holy priest, I long to see:
The guardian of my rite is he:
That my dear brother may not miss
A share of mine expected bliss.”
Thus in the presence of the priest
The royal Janak spoke, and ceased.
Then came his henchmen, prompt and brave,
[081]
To whom his charge the monarch gave.
Soon as they heard his will, in haste
With fleetest steeds away they raced,
To lead with them that lord of kings,
As Indra's call Lord Vishṇu brings.
Sánkáśyá's walls they duly gained,
And audience of the king obtained.
To him they told the news they brought
Of marvels past and Janak's thought.
Soon as the king the story knew
From those good envoys swift and true,
To Janak's wish he gave assent,
And swift to Míthilá he went.
He paid to Janak reverence due,
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The Ramayana
And holy Śatánanda too,
Then sate him on a glorious seat
For kings or Gods celestial meet.
Soon as the brothers, noble pair
Peerless in might, were seated there,
They gave the wise Sudáman, best
Of councillors, their high behest:
“Go, noble councillor,” they cried,
“And hither to our presence guide
Ikshváku's son, Ayodhyá's lord,
Invincible by foeman's sword,
With both his sons, each holy seer,
And every minister and peer.”
Sudáman to the palace flew,
And saw the mighty king who threw
Splendour on Raghu's splendid race,
Then bowed his head with seemly grace:
“O King, whose hand Ayodhyá sways,
My lord, whom Míthilá obeys,
Yearns with desire, if thou agree,
Thee with thy guide and priest to see.”
Soon as the councillor had ceased,
The king, with saint and peer and priest,
Sought, speeding through the palace gate,
The hall where Janak held his state.
There, with his nobles round him spread,
Thus to Videha's lord be said:
“Thou knowest, King, whose aid divine
Protects Ikshváku's royal line.
In every need, whate'er befall,
The saint Vaśishṭha speaks for all.
If Viśvámitra so allow,
And all the saints around me now,
The sage will speak, at my desire,
Canto LXX. The Maidens Sought.
273
As order and the truth require.”
Soon as the king his lips had stilled,
Up rose Vaśishṭha, speaker skilled.
And to Videha's lord began
In flowing words that holy man:
“From viewless Nature Brahmá rose,
No change, no end, no waste he knows.
A son had he Maríchi styled,
And Kaśyap was Maríchi's child.
From him Vivasvat sprang: from him
Manu whose fame shall ne'er be dim.
Manu, who life to mortals gave,
Begot Ikshváku good and brave.
First of Ayodhyá's kings was he,
Pride of her famous dynasty.
From him the glorious Kukshi sprang,
Whose fame through all the regions rang.
Rival of Kukshi's ancient fame,
His heir, the great Vikukshi, came,
His son was Váṇa, lord of might;
His Anaraṇya, strong to fight.
His son was Prithu, glorious name;
From him the good Triśanku came.
He left a son renowned afar,
Known by the name of Dhundhumár.
His son, who drove the mighty car,
Was Yuvanáśva, feared in war.
He passed away. Him followed then
His son Mándhátá, king of men.
His son was blest in high emprise,
Susandhi, fortunate and wise.
Two noble sons had he, to wit
Dhruvasandhi and Prasenajit.
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The Ramayana
Bharat was Dhruvasandhi's son,
And glorious fame that monarch won.
The warrior Asit he begot.
Asit had warfare, fierce and hot,
With rival kings in many a spot,
Haihayas, Tálajanghas styled,
And Śaśivindus, strong and wild.
Long time he strove, but forced to yield
Fled from his kingdom and the field.
With his two wives away he fled
Where high Himálaya lifts his head,
And, all his wealth and glory past,
He paid the dues of Fate at last.
The wives he left had both conceived—
So is the ancient tale believed—
One, of her rival's hopes afraid
Fell poison in her viands laid.
It chanced that Chyavan, Bhrigu's child,
Had wandered to that pathless wild,
And there Himálaya's lovely height
Detained him with a strange delight.
There came the other widowed queen,
With lotus eyes and beauteous mien,
Longing a noble son to bear,
And wooed the saint with earnest prayer.
When thus Kálindi,248fairest dame,
With reverent supplication came,
To her the holy sage replied:
“Born with the poison from thy side,
O happy Queen, shall spring ere long
An infant fortunate and strong.
Then weep no more, and check thy sighs,
248A different lady from the Goddess of the Jumna who bears the same name.
Canto LXX. The Maidens Sought.
275
Sweet lady of the lotus eyes.”
The queen, who loved her perished lord,
For meet reply, the saint adored,
And, of her husband long bereaved,
She bore a son by him conceived.
Because her rival mixed the bane
[082]
To render her conception vain,
And fruit unripened to destroy,
Sagar249she called her darling boy.
To Sagar Asamanj was heir:
Bright Anśumán his consort bare.
Anśumán's son, Dilípa famed,
Begot a son Bhagírath named.
From him the great Kakutstha rose:
From him came Raghu, feared by foes,
Of him sprang Purushádak bold,
Fierce hero of gigantic mould:
Kalmáshapáda's name he bore,
Because his feet were spotted o'er.250
From him came Śankaṇ, and from him
Sudarśan, fair in face and limb.
From beautiful Sudarśan came
Prince Agnivarṇa, bright as flame.
His son was Śíghraga, for speed
Unmatched; and Maru was his seed.
Praśuśruka was Maru's child;
His son was Ambarísha styled.
Nahush was Ambarísha's heir,
The mighty lord of regions fair:
Nahush begot Yayáti: he,
249This is another fanciful derivation, Sa—with, and gara—poison.
250Purushádak means a cannibal. First called Kalmáshapáda on account of
his spotted feet he is said to have been turned into a cannibal for killing the son
of Vaśishṭha.
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The Ramayana
Nábhág of happy destiny.
Son of Nábhág was Aja: his,
The glorious Daśaratha is,
Whose noble children boast to be
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ, whom we see.
Thus do those kings of purest race
Their lineage from Ikshváku trace:
Their hero lives the right maintained,
Their lips with falsehood ne'er were stained.
In Ráma's and in Lakshmaṇ's name
Thy daughters as their wives I claim,
So shall in equal bands be tied
Each peerless youth with peerless bride.”
Canto LXXI. Janak's Pedigree.
Then to the saint supremely wise
King Janak spoke in suppliant guise:
“Deign, Hermit, with attentive ear,
Mv race's origin to hear.
When kings a daughter's hand bestow,
'Tis right their line and fame to show.
There was a king whose deeds and worth
Spread wide his name through heaven and earth,
Nimi, most virtuous e'en from youth,
The best of all who love the truth.
His son and heir was Mithi, and
His Janak, first who ruled this land.
He left a son Udávasu,
Blest with all virtues, good and true.
His son was Nandivardhan, dear
Canto LXXI. Janak's Pedigree.
277
For pious heart and worth sincere.
His son Suketu, hero brave,
To Devarát, existence gave.
King Devarát, a royal sage,
For virtue, glory of the age,
Begot Vrihadratha; and he
Begot, his worthy heir to be,
The splendid hero Mahábír
Who long in glory governed here.
His son was Sudhriti, a youth
Firm in his purpose, brave in sooth,
His son was Dhrisṭaketu, blest
With pious will and holy breast.
The fame of royal saint he won:
Haryaśva was his princely son.
Haryaśva's son was Maru, who
Begot Pratíndhak, wise and true.
Next Kírtiratha held the throne,
His son, for gentle virtues known.
Then followed Devamidha, then
Vibudh, Mahándhrak, kings of men.
Mahándhrak's son, of boundless might,
Was Kírtirát, who loved the right.
He passed away, a sainted king,
And Maháromá following
To Swarṇaromá left the state.
Then Hraśvaromá, good and great,
Succeeded, and to him a pair
Of sons his royal consort bare,
Elder of these I boast to be:
Brave Kuśadhwaj is next to me.251
251“In the setting forth of these royal genealogies the Bengal recension varies
but slightly from the Northern.
The first six names of the genealogy of
the Kings of Ayodhyá are partly theogonical and partly cosmogonical; the
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The Ramayana
Me then, the elder of the twain,
My sire anointed here to reign.
He bade me tend my brother well,
Then to the forest went to dwell.
He sought the heavens, and I sustained
The burden as by law ordained,
And noble Kuśadhwaj, the peer
Of Gods, I ever held most dear.
Then came Sánkáśyá's mighty lord,
Sudhanvá, threatening siege and sword,
And bade me swift on him bestow
Śiva's incomparable bow,
[083]
And Sítá of the lotus eyes:
But I refused each peerless prize.
Then, host to host, we met the foes,
And fierce the din of battle rose,
Sudhanvá, foremost of his band,
Fell smitten by my single hand.
When thus Sánkáśyá's lord was slain,
I sanctified, as laws ordain,
My brother in his stead to reign,
Thus are we brothers, Saint most high
The younger he, the elder I.
Now, mighty Sage, my spirit joys
To give these maidens to the boys.
Let Sítá be to Ráma tied.
And Urmilá be Lakshmaṇ's bride.
First give, O King, the gift of cows,
As dowry of each royal spouse,
Due offerings to the spirits pay,
And solemnize the wedding-day.
other names are no doubt in accordance with tradition and deserve the same
amount of credence as the ancient traditional genealogies of other nations.”
GORRESIO{FNS.
Canto LXXII. The Gift Of Kine.
279
The moon tonight, O royal Sage,
In Maghá's252House takes harbourage;
On the third night his rays benign
In second Phálguni253will shine:
Be that the day, with prosperous fate,
The nuptial rites to celebrate.”
Canto LXXII. The Gift Of Kine.
When royal Janak's words were done,
Joined with Vaśishṭha Kuśik's son,
The mighty sage began his speech:
“No mind may soar, no thought can reach
The glories of Ikshváku's line,
Or, great Videha's King, of thine:
None in the whole wide world may vie
With them in fame and honours high.
Well matched, I ween, in holy bands,
These peerless pairs will join their hands.
But hear me as I speak once more;
Thy brother, skilled in duty's lore,
Has at his home a royal pair
Of daughters most divinely fair.
I for the hands of these sweet two
For Bharat and Śatrughna sue,
Both princes of heroic mould,
Wise, fair of form, and lofty-souled.
All Daśaratha's sons, I ween,
252The tenth of the lunar asterisms, composed of five stars.
253There are two lunar asterisms of this name, one following the other
immediately, forming the eleventh and twelfth of the lunar mansions.
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The Ramayana
Own each young grace of form and mien:
Brave as the Gods are they, nor yield
To the great Lords the worlds who shield.
By these, good Prince of merits high,
Ikshváku's house with thine ally.”
The suit the holy sage preferred,
With willing ear the monarch heard:
Vaśishṭha's lips the counsel praised:
Then spake the king with hands upraised:
“Now blest indeed my race I deem,
Which your high will, O Saints supreme,
With Daśaratha's house unites
In bonds of love and marriage rites.
So be it done. My nieces twain
Let Bharat and Śatrughna gain,
And the four youths the selfsame day
Four maiden hands in theirs shall lay.
No day so lucky may compare,
For marriage—so the wise declare—
With the last day of Phálguni
Ruled by the genial deity.”
Then with raised hands in reverence due
To those arch-saints he spoke anew:
“I am your pupil, ever true:
To me high favour have ye shown;
Come, sit ye on my royal throne,
For Daśaratha rules these towers
E'en as Ayodhyá now is ours.
Do with your own whate'er ye choose:
Your lordship here will none refuse.”
Canto LXXIII. The Nuptials.
281
He spoke, and to Videha's king
Thus Daśaratha, answering:
“Boundless your virtues, lords, whose sway
The realms of Mithilá obey.
With honouring care you entertain.
Both holy sage and royal train.
Now to my house my steps I bend—
May blessings still on you at end—
Due offerings to the shades to pay.”
Thus spoke the king, and turned away:
To Janak first he bade adieu,
Then followed fast those holy two.
The monarch reached his palace where
The rites were paid with solemn care.
When the next sun began to shine
He rose and made his gift of kine.
A hundred thousand cows prepared
For each young prince the Bráhmans shared.
Each had her horns adorned with gold;
And duly was the number told,
Four hundred thousand perfect tale:
Each brought a calf, each filled a pail.
And when that glorious task was o'er,
The monarch with his children four,
Showed like the Lord of Life divine
When the worlds' guardians round him shine.
[084]
Canto LXXIII. The Nuptials.
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The Ramayana
On that same day that saw the king
His gift of kine distributing,
The lord of Kekaya's son, by name
Yudhájit, Bharat's uncle, came,
Asked of the monarch's health, and then
Addressed the reverend king of men:
“The lord of Kekaya's realm by me
Sends greeting, noble King, to thee:
Asks if the friends thy prayers would bless
Uninterrupted health possess.
Right anxious, mighty King, is he
My sister's princely boy to see.
For this I sought Ayodhyá fair
The message of my sire to bear.
There learning, O my liege, that thou
With sons and noble kinsmen now
Wast resting here, I sought the place
Longing to see my nephew's face.”
The king with kind observance cheered
His friend by tender ties endeared,
And every choicest honour pressed
Upon his honourable guest.
That night with all his children spent,
At morn King Daśaratha went,
Behind Vaśishṭha and the rest,
To the fair ground for rites addressed.
Then when the lucky hour was nigh
Called Victory, of omen high,
Came Ráma, after vow and prayer
For nuptial bliss and fortune fair,
With the three youths in bright attire,
And stood beside his royal sire.
To Janak then Vaśishṭha sped,
Canto LXXIII. The Nuptials.
283
And to Videha's monarch said:
“O King, Ayodhyá's ruler now
Has breathed the prayer and vowed the vow,
And with his sons expecting stands
The giver of the maidens' hands.
The giver and the taker both
Must ratify a mutual oath.
Perform the part for which we wait,
And rites of marriage celebrate.”
Skilled in the laws which Scriptures teach,
He answered thus Vaśishṭha's speech:
“O Saint, what warder bars the gate?
Whose bidding can the king await?
In one's own house what doubt is shown?
This kingdom, Sage, is all thine own.
E'en now the maidens may be found
Within the sacrificial ground:
Each vow is vowed and prayed each prayer,
And they, like fire, are shining there.
Here by the shrine my place I took
Expecting thee with eager look,
No bar the nuptial rites should stay:
What cause have we for more delay?”
When Janak's speech the monarch heard,
To sons and saints he gave the word,
And set them in the holy ring,
Then to Vaśishṭha spoke the king
Of Mithilá: “O mighty Sage,
Now let this task thy care engage,
And lend thine aid and counsel wise
The nuptial rites to solemnize.”
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The Ramayana
The saint Vaśishṭha gave assent,
And quickly to the task he went,
With Viśvámitra, nothing loth,
And Śatánanda aiding both.
Then, as the rules prescribe, they made
An altar in the midst, and laid
Fresh wreaths of fragrant flowers thereon.
The golden ladles round it shone;
And many a vase, which branches hid
Fixed in the perforated lid,
And sprays, and cups, and censers there
Stood filled with incense rich and rare;
Shell-bowls, and spoons, and salvers dressed
With gifts that greet the honoured guest;
Piles of parched rice some dishes bore,
Others with corn prepared ran o'er;
And holy grass was duly spread
In equal lengths, while prayers were said.
Next chief of saints, Vaśishṭha came
And laid the offering in the flame.
Then by the hand King Janak drew
His Sítá, beautiful to view,
And placed her, bright in rich attire,
Ráma to face, before the fire,
Thus speaking to the royal boy
Who filled Kauśalyá's heart with joy:
“Here Sítá stands, my daughter fair,
The duties of thy life to share.
Take from her father, take thy bride;
Join hand to hand, and bliss betide!
A faithful wife, most blest is she,
And as thy shade will follow thee.”
Canto LXXIII. The Nuptials.
285
Thus as he spoke the monarch threw
O'er her young limbs the holy dew,
While Gods and saints were heard to swell
The joyous cry, 'Tis well! 'Tis well!
His daughter Sítá thus bestowed,
O'er whom the sacred drops had flowed.
King Janak's heart with rapture glowed.
Then to Prince Lakshmaṇ thus he cried:
“Take Urmilá thine offered bride,
And clasp her hand within thine own
Ere yet the lucky hour be flown.”
Then to Prince Bharat thus cried he;
“Come, take the hand of Mándavi.”
Then to Śatrughna: “In thy grasp
The hand of Srutakírti clasp.
Now, Raghu's sons, may all of you
Be gentle to your wives and true;
[085]
Keep well the vows you make to-day,
Nor let occasion slip away.”
King Janak's word the youths obeyed;
The maidens' hands in theirs they laid.
Then with their brides the princes went
With ordered steps and reverent
Round both the fire and Janak, round
The sages and the sacred ground.
A flowery flood of lucid dyes
In rain descended from the skies,
While with celestial voices blent
Sweet strains from many an instrument,
And the nymphs danced in joyous throng
Responsive to the minstrel's song.
Such signs of exultation they
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Saw on the princes' wedding day.
Still rang the heavenly music's sound
When Raghu's sons thrice circled round
The fire, each one with reverent head,
And homeward then their brides they led.
They to the sumptuous palace hied
That Janak's care had seen supplied.
The monarch girt with saint and peer
Still fondly gazing followed near.
Canto LXXIV. Ráma With The Axe.254
Soon as the night had reached its close
The hermit Viśvámitra rose;
To both the kings he bade adieu
And to the northern hill withdrew.
Ayodhyá's lord of high renown
Received farewell, and sought his town.
Then as each daughter left her bower
King Janak gave a splendid dower,
Rugs, precious silks, a warrior force,
Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse,
Divine to see and well arrayed;
And many a skilful tiring-maid,
And many a young and trusty slave
The father of the ladies gave.
254This is another Ráma, son of Jamadagni, called Paraśuráma, or Ráma with
the axe, from the weapon which he carried. He was while he lived the terror of
the Warrior caste, and his name recalls long and fierce struggles between the
sacerdotal and military order in which the latter suffered severely at the hands
of their implacable enemy.
Canto LXXIV. Ráma With The Axe.
287
Silver and coral, gold and pearls
He gave to his beloved girls.
These precious gifts the king bestowed
And sped his guest upon his road.
The lord of Mithilá's sweet town
Rode to his court and lighted down.
Ayodhyá's monarch, glad and gay,
Led by the seers pursued his way
With his dear sons of lofty mind:
The royal army marched behind.
As on he fared the voice he heard
Around of many a dismal bird,
And every beast in wild affright
Began to hurry to the right.
The monarch to Vaśishṭha cried:
“What strange misfortune will betide?
Why do the beasts in terror fly,
And birds of evil omen cry?
What is it shakes my heart with dread?
Why is my soul disquieted?”
Soon as he heard, the mighty saint
Thus answered Daśaratha's plaint
In sweetest tone: “Now, Monarch, mark,
And learn from me the meaning dark.
The voices of the birds of air
Great peril to the host declare:
The moving beasts the dread allay,
So drive thy whelming fear away,”
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As he and Daśaratha spoke
A tempest from the welkin broke,
That shook the spacious earth amain
And hurled high trees upon the plain.
The sun grew dark with murky cloud,
And o'er the skies was cast a shroud,
While o'er the army, faint with dread,
A veil of dust and ashes spread.
King, princes, saints their sense retained,
Fear-stupefied the rest remained.
At length, their wits returning, all
Beneath the gloom and ashy pall
Saw Jamadagni's son with dread,
His long hair twisted round his head,
Who, sprung from Bhrigu, loved to beat
The proudest kings beneath his feet.
Firm as Kailása's hill he showed,
Fierce as the fire of doom he glowed.
His axe upon his shoulder lay,
His bow was ready for the fray,
With thirsty arrows wont to fly
Like Lightnings from the angry sky.
A long keen arrow forth he drew,
Invincible like those which flew
From Śiva's ever-conquering bow
And Tripura in death laid low.
When his wild form, that struck with awe,
Fearful as ravening flame, they saw,
Vaśishṭha and the saints whose care
Was sacrifice and muttered prayer,
Drew close together, each to each,
And questioned thus with bated speech:
“Indignant at his father's fate
Canto LXXV. The Parle.
289
Will he on warriors vent his hate,
The slayers of his father slay,
And sweep the loathed race away?
But when of old his fury raged
Seas of their blood his wrath assuaged:
[086]
So doubtless now he has not planned
To slay all warriors in the land.”
Then with a gift the saints drew near
To Bhrigu's son whose look was fear,
And Ráma! Ráma! soft they cried.
The gift he took, no word replied.
Then Bhrigu's son his silence broke
And thus to Ráma Ráma spoke:
Canto LXXV. The Parle.
“Heroic Ráma, men proclaim
The marvels of thy matchless fame,
And I from loud-voiced rumour know
The exploit of the broken bow,
Yea, bent and broken, mighty Chief,
A feat most wondrous, past belief.
Stirred by thy fame thy face I sought:
A peerless bow I too have brought.
This mighty weapon, strong and dire,
Great Jamadagni owned, my sire.
Draw with its shaft my father's bow,
And thus thy might, O Ráma, show.
This proof of prowess let me see—
The weapon bent and drawn by thee;
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Then single fight our strength shall try,
And this shall raise thy glory high.”
King Daśaratha heard with dread
The boastful speech, and thus he said;
Raising his hands in suppliant guise,
With pallid cheek and timid eyes:
“Forgetful of the bloody feud
Ascetic toils hast thou pursued;
Then, Bráhman, let thy children be
Untroubled and from danger free.
Sprung of the race of Bhrigu, who
Read holy lore, to vows most true,
Thou swarest to the Thousand-eyed
And thy fierce axe was cast aside.
Thou turnedst to thy rites away
Leaving the earth to Kaśyap's sway,
And wentest far a grove to seek
Beneath Mahendra's255mountain peak.
Now, mighty Hermit, art thou here
To slay us all with doom severe?
For if alone my Ráma fall,
We share his fate and perish all.”
255“TheauthoroftheRaghuvaṅśaplacesthemountainMahendraintheterrito-
ry of the king of the Kalingans, whose palace commanded a view of the ocean.
It is well known that the country along the coast to the south of the mouths of
the Ganges was the seat of this people. Hence it may be suspected that this
Mahendra is what Pliny calls ‘promontorium Calingon.’ The modern name,
Cape Palmyras, from the palmyras Borassus flabelliformis, which abound
there agrees remarkably with the description of the poet who speaks of the
groves of these trees. Raghuvaṅśa, VI. 51.” SCHLEGEL{FNS.
Canto LXXV. The Parle.
291
As thus the aged sire complained
The mighty chief no answer deigned.
To Ráma only thus he cried:
“Two bows, the Heavenly Artist's pride,
Celestial, peerless, vast, and strong,
By all the worlds were honoured long.
One to the Three-eyed God256was given,
By glory to the conflict driven,
Thus armed fierce Tripura he slew:
And then by thee 'twas burst in two.
The second bow, which few may brave,
The highest Gods to Vishṇu gave.
This bow I hold; before it fall
The foeman's fenced tower and wall.
Then prayed the Gods the Sire Most High
By some unerring proof to try
Were praise for might Lord Vishṇu's due,
Or his whose Neck is stained with Blue.257
The mighty Sire their wishes knew,
And he whose lips are ever true
Caused the two Gods to meet as foes.
Then fierce the rage of battle rose:
Bristled in dread each starting hair
As Śiva strove with Vishṇu there.
But Vishṇu raised his voice amain.
And Śiva's bowstring twanged in vain;
Its master of the Three bright Eyes
Stood fixt in fury and surprise.
Then all the dwellers in the sky,
Minstrel, and saint, and God drew nigh,
And prayed them that the strife might cease,
And the great rivals met in peace.
256Śiva.
257Siva. God of the Azure Neck.
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'Twas seen how Śiva's bow has failed
Unnerved, when Vishṇu's might assailed,
And Gods and heavenly sages thence
To Vishnu gave preëminence.
Then glorious Śiva in his rage
Gave it to Devarát the sage
Who ruled Videha's fertile land,
To pass it down from hand to hand.
But this my bow, whose shafts smite down
The foeman's fenced tower and town,
To great Richíka Vishṇu lent
To be a pledge and ornament,
Then Jamadagni, Bráhman dread,
My sire, the bow inherited.
But Arjun stooped to treachery vile
And slew my noble sire by guile,
Whose penance awful strength had gained,
Whose hand the God-given bow retained.
[087]
I heard indignant how he fell
By mournful fate, too sad to tell.
My vengeful fury since that time
Scourges all Warriors for the crime.
As generations spring to life
I war them down in endless strife.
All earth I brought beneath my sway,
And gave it for his meed and pay
To holy Kaśyap, when of yore
The rites performed by him were o'er.
Then to Mahendra's hill I turned
Strong in the strength that penance earned,
And toiled upon his lofty head
By Gods immortal visited.
The breaking of the bow I knew
From startled Gods conversing, through
Canto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.
293
The airy regions, of thy deed,
And hither came with swiftest speed.
Now, for thy Warrior's honour sake,
This best of bows, O Ráma, take:
This, owned by Vishṇu's self of old,
My sire and grandsire loved to hold.
Drawn to its head upon the string,
One town-destroying arrow bring;
If this thou can, O hero, I
In single fight thy strength will try.”
Canto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.
The haughty challenge, undeterred
The son of Daśaratha heard,
And cried, while reverence for his sire
Checked the full torrent of his ire:
“Before this day have I been told
The deed that stained thy hands of old.
But pity bids my soul forget:
Thy father, murdered, claimed the debt.
My strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight,
Too feeble for a Warrior's might.
Now will I show thy wondering eyes
The prowess which they dare despise.”
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He hastened then with graceful ease
That mighty bow and shaft to seize.
His hand the weapon strung and swayed:
The arrow on the string was laid.
Then Jamadagni's son he eyed,
And thus in words of fury cried:
“Thou art a Bráhman, still to be
Most highly honoured, Chief, by me.
For Viśvámitra's sake beside
Shall reverence due be ne'er denied.
Though mine the power, I would not send
A dart at thee thy life to end.
But thy great power to wander free,
Which penance-rites have won for thee,
Or glorious worlds from thee to wrest,
Is the firm purpose of my breast,
And Vishṇu's dart which now I strain
Can ne'er be shot to fall in vain:
It strikes the mighty, and it stuns
The madness of the haughty ones.”
Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir
Preceded by the General Sire,
Met in the air and gazed below
On Ráma with that wondrous bow.
Nymph, minstrel, angel, all were there,
Snake-God, and spirit of the air,
Giant, and bard, and gryphon, met,
Their eyes upon the marvel set.
In senseless hush the world was chained
While Ráma's hand the bow retained,
And Jamadagni's son amazed
And powerless on the hero gazed.
Then when his swelling heart had shrunk,
Canto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.
295
And his proud strength in torpor sunk,
Scarce his voice ventured, low and weak,
To Ráma lotus-eyed, to speak:
“When long ago I gave away
The whole broad land to Kaśyap's sway
He charged me never to remain
Within the limits of his reign.
Obedient to my guide's behest
On earth by night I never rest.
My choice is made, I will not dim
Mine honour and be false to him.
So, son of Raghu, leave me still
The power to wander where I will,
And swifter than the thought my flight
Shall place me on Mahendra's height.
My mansions of eternal joy,
By penance won, thou mayst destroy,
My path to these thy shaft may stay.
Now to the work! No more delay!
I know thee Lord of Gods; I know
Thy changeless might laid Madhu low.
All other hands would surely fail
To bend this bow. All hail! all hail!
See! all the Gods have left the skies
To bend on thee their eager eyes,
With whose achievements none compete,
Whose arm in war no God can meet.
No shame is mine, I ween, for thou,
Lord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow.
Now, pious Ráma, 'tis thy part
To shoot afar that glorious dart:
I, when the fatal shaft is shot,
Will seek that hill and tarry not.”
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He ceased. The wondrous arrow flew,
And Jamadagni's offspring knew
Those glorious worlds to him were barred,
Once gained by penance long and hard.
Then straight the airy quarters cleared,
And the mid regions bright appeared,
While Gods and saints unnumbered praised
Ráma, the mighty bow who raised.
And Jamadagni's son, o'erawed.
Extolled his name with highest laud,
[088]
With reverent steps around him strode,
Then hastened on his airy road.
Far from the sight of all he fled,
And rested on Mahendra's head.
Canto LXXVII. Bharat's Departure.
Then Ráma with a cheerful mind
The bow to Varuṇ's hand resigned.
Due reverence to the saints he paid,
And thus addressed his sire dismayed:
“As Bhrigu's son is far from view,
Now let the host its march pursue,
And to Ayodhyá's town proceed
In four-fold bands, with thee to lead.”
Canto LXXVII. Bharat's Departure.
297
King Daśaratha thus addressed
His lips to Ráma's forehead pressed,
And held him to his aged breast.
Rejoiced in sooth was he to know
That Bhrigu's son had parted so,
And hailed a second life begun
For him and his victorious son.
He urged the host to speed renewed,
And soon Ayodhyá's gates he viewed.
High o'er the roofs gay pennons played;
Tabour and drum loud music made;
Fresh water cooled the royal road,
And flowers in bright profusion glowed.
Glad crowds with garlands thronged the ways
Rejoicing on their king to gaze
And all the town was bright and gay
Exalting in the festive day.
People and Bráhmans flocked to meet
Their monarch ere he gained the street.
The glorious king amid the throng
Rode with his glorious sons along,
And passed within his dear abode
That like Himálaya's mountain showed.
And there Kauśalyá, noble queen,
Sumitrá with her lovely mien,
Kaikeyí of the dainty waist,
And other dames his bowers who graced,
Stood in the palace side by side
And welcomed home each youthful bride:
Fair Sítá, lofty-fated dame,
Urmilá of the glorious fame,
And Kuśadhwaj's children fair,
With joyous greeting and with prayer,
As all in linen robes arrayed
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The Ramayana
With offerings at the altars prayed.
Due reverence paid to God above,
Each princess gave her soul to love,
And hidden in her inmost bower
Passed with her lord each blissful hour.
The royal youths, of spirit high,
With whom in valor none could vie,
Lived each within his palace bounds
Bright as Kuvera's pleasure-grounds,
With riches, troops of faithful friends,
And bliss that wedded life attends:
Brave princes trained in warlike skill,
And duteous to their father's will.
At length the monarch called one morn
Prince Bharat, of Kaikeyí born,
And cried: “My son, within our gates
Lord Yudhájit thine uncle waits.
The son of Kekaya's king is he,
And came, my child, to summon thee.”
Then Bharat for the road prepared,
And with Śatrughna forth he fared.
First to his sire he bade adieu,
Brave Ráma, and his mothers too.
Lord Yudhájit with joyful pride
Went forth, the brothers by his side,
And reached the city where he dwelt:
And mighty joy his father felt.
Canto LXXVII. Bharat's Departure.
299
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ honoured still
Their godlike sire with duteous will.
Two constant guides for Ráma stood,
His father's wish, the people's good.
Attentive to the general weal
He thought and wrought to please and heal.
His mothers too he strove to please
With love and sonly courtesies.
At every time, in every spot,
His holy guides he ne'er forgot.
So for his virtues kind and true
Dearer and dearer Ráma grew
To Daśaratha, Bráhmans, all
In town and country, great and small.
And Ráma by his darling's side
Saw many a blissful season glide,
Lodged in her soul, each thought on her,
Lover, and friend, and worshipper.
He loved her for his father's voice
Had given her and approved the choice:
He loved her for each charm she wore
And her sweet virtues more and more.
So he her lord and second life
Dwelt in the bosom of his wife,
In double form, that, e'en apart,
Each heart could commune free with heart.
Still grew that child of Janak's race,
More goddess-fair in form and face,
The loveliest wife that e'er was seen,
In mortal mould sweet Beauty's Queen.
Then shone the son Kauśalyá bore,
With this bright dame allied,
Like Vishṇu whom the Gods adore,
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With Lakshmi by his side.
[089]
BOOK II.
Canto I. The Heir Apparent.
So Bharat to his grandsire went
Obedient to the message sent,
And for his fond companion chose
Śatrughna slayer of his foes.258
There Bharat for a time remained
With love and honour entertained,
King Aśvapati's constant care,
Beloved as a son and heir.
Yet ever, as they lived at ease,
While all around combined to please,
The aged sire they left behind
Was present to each hero's mind.
Nor could the king's fond memory stray
From his brave children far away,
Dear Bharat and Śatrughna dear,
Each Varuṇ's match or Indra's peer.
258Śatrughna means slayer of foes, and the word is repeated as an intensive
epithet.
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To all the princes, young and brave,
His soul with fond affection clave;
Around his loving heart they clung
Like arms from his own body sprung.259
But best and noblest of the four,
Good as the God whom all adore,
Lord of all virtues, undefiled,
His darling was his eldest child.
For he was beautiful and strong,
From envy free, the foe of wrong,
With all his father's virtues blest,
And peerless in the world confessed.
With placid soul he softly spoke:
No harsh reply could taunts provoke.
He ever loved the good and sage
Revered for virtue and for age,
And when his martial tasks were o'er
Sate listening to their peaceful lore.
Wise, modest, pure, he honoured eld,
His lips from lying tales withheld;
Due reverence to the Bráhmans gave,
And ruled each passion like a slave.
Most tender, prompt at duty's call,
Loved by all men he loved them all.
Proud of the duties of his race,
With spirit meet for Warrior's place.
He strove to win by glorious deed,
Throned with the Gods, a priceless meed.
With him in speech and quick reply
Vrihaspati might hardly vie,
But never would his accents flow
For evil or for empty show.
259Alluding to the images of Vishṇu, which have four arms, the four princes
being portions of the substance of that God.
Canto I. The Heir Apparent. (part 2)