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Title: The Ramayana 



Release Date: March 18, 2008 [Ebook 24869] 
Language: English 



*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 
THE RAMAYANA*** 



The RAM A YAN of VALMIKI 

Translated into English Verse 
by 

Ralph T. H. Griffith, M.A. 

Principal of the Benares College 
London: Triibner & Co. 

Benares: E. J. Lazarus and Co. 

1870-1874 



Contents 

Invocation 2 

Book 1 4 

Canto I. Narad 4 

Canto II. Brahma's Visit 19 

Canto III. The Argument 26 

Canto IV. The Rhapsodists 31 

Canto V. Ayodhya 35 

Canto VI. The King 38 

Canto VII. The Ministers 43 

Canto VIII. Sumantra's Speech 45 

Canto IX. Rishyasring 49 

Canto X. Rishyasring Invited 58 

Canto XI. The Sacrifice Decreed 62 

Canto XII. The Sacrifice Begun 65 

Canto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished 69 

Canto XIV. Ravan Doomed 79 

Canto XV. The Nectar 84 

Canto XVI. The Vanars 88 

Canto XVII. Rishyasring's Return 92 

Canto XVIII. Rishyasring's Departure 97 

Canto XIX. The Birth Of The Princes 100 

Canto XX. Visvamitra's Visit 105 

Canto XXI. Visvamitra's Speech 108 

Canto XXII. Dasaratha's Speech Ill 

Canto XXIII. Vasishtha's Speech 114 

Canto XXIV. The Spells 117 

Canto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love 120 

Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tadaka 123 

Canto XXVII. The Birth Of Tadaka 128 



iv The Ramayana 

Canto XXVIII. The Death Of Tadaka 130 

Canto XXIX. The Celestial Arms 134 

Canto XXX. The Mysterious Powers 138 

Canto XXXI. The Perfect Hermitage 140 

Canto XXXII. Visvamitra's Sacrifice 144 

Canto XXXIII. The Sone 147 

Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta 149 

Canto XXXV. Visvamitra's Lineage 156 

Canto XXXVI. The Birth Of Ganga 159 

Canto XXXIX. The Sons Of Sagar 162 

Canto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth 165 

Canto XLI. Kapil 168 

Canto XLII. Sagar's Sacrifice 173 

Canto XLIII. Bhaglrath 176 

Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Ganga 179 

Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit 186 

Canto XLVI. Diti's Hope 194 

Canto XLVII. Sumati 196 

Canto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalya 199 

Canto XLIX. Ahalya Freed 202 

Canto L. Janak 204 

Canto LI. Visvamitra 207 

Canto LII. Vasishtha's Feast 210 

Canto LIII. Visvamitra's Request 213 

Canto LIV. The Battle 217 

Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt 220 

Canto LVI. Visvamitra's Vow 224 

Canto LVII. Trisanku 227 

Canto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed 230 

Canto LIX. The Sons Of Vasishtha 234 

Canto LX. Trisanku's Ascension 236 

Canto LXI. Sunahsepha 241 

Canto LXII. Ambarisha's Sacrifice 245 

Canto LXIII. Menaka 248 



Canto LXIV. Rambha 252 

Canto LXV. Visvamitra's Triumph 255 

Canto LXVI. Janak's Speech 259 

Canto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow 263 

Canto LXVIII. The Envoys' Speech 266 

Canto LXIX. Dasaratha's Visit 268 

Canto LXX. The Maidens Sought 270 

Canto LXXI. Janak's Pedigree 276 

Canto LXXII. The Gift Of Kine 279 

Canto LXXm. The Nuptials 281 

Canto LXXIV. Rama With The Axe 286 

Canto LXXV. The Parle 289 

Canto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven 293 

Canto LXXVII. Bharat's Departure 296 

BOOK II 301 

Canto I. The Heir Apparent 301 

Canto II. The People's Speech 305 

Canto III. Dasaratha's Precepts 310 

Canto IV. Rama Summoned 316 

Canto V. Rama's Fast 322 

Canto VI. The City Decorated 325 

Canto VII. Manthara's Lament 328 

Canto VIII. Manthara's Speech 332 

Canto IX. The Plot 337 

Canto X. Dasaratha's Speech 344 

Canto XI. The Queen's Demand 349 

Canto XII. Dasaratha's Lament 352 

Canto XIII. Dasaratha's Distress 365 

Canto XIV. Rama Summoned 367 

Canto XV. The Preparations 375 

Canto XVI. Rama Summoned 381 

Canto XVII. Rama's Approach 387 

Canto XVIII. The Sentence 389 

Canto XIX. Rama's Promise 394 



vi The Ramayana 

Canto XX. Kausalya's Lament 399 

Canto XXI. Kausalya Calmed 405 

Canto XXII. Lakshman Calmed 413 

Canto XXIII. Lakshman's Anger 417 

Canto XXIV. Kausalya Calmed 422 

Canto XXV. Kausalya's Blessing 427 

Canto XXVI. Alone With Sita 433 

Canto XXVII. Sita's Speech 437 

Canto XXVIII. The Dangers Of The Wood 440 

Canto XXIX. Sita's Appeal 443 

Canto XXX. The Triumph Of Love 446 

Canto XXXI. Lakshman's Prayer 452 

Canto XXXII. The Gift Of The Treasures 456 

Canto XXXIII. The People's Lament 462 

Canto XXXIV. Rama In The Palace 465 

Canto XXXV. Kaikeyi Reproached 472 

Canto XXXVI. Siddharth's Speech 476 

Canto XXXVII. The Coats Of Bark 480 

Canto XXXVIII. Care For Kausalya 484 

Canto XXXIX. Counsel To Sita 486 

Canto XL. Rama's Departure 491 

Canto XLI. The Citizens' Lament 497 

Canto XLII. Dasaratha's Lament 500 

Canto XLIII. Kausalya's Lament 504 

Canto XLIV. Sumitra's Speech 507 

Canto XLV. The Tamasa 510 

Canto XLVI. The Halt 514 

Canto XLVII. The Citizens' Return 518 

Canto XLVIII. The Women's Lament 521 

Canto XLIX. The Crossing Of The Rivers 525 

Canto L. The Halt Under The Ingudi 527 

Canto LI. Lakshman's Lament 532 

Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga 534 

Canto LIII. Rama's Lament 547 



Vll 



Canto LIV. Bharadvaja's Hermitage 551 

Canto LV. The Passage Of Yamuna 557 

Canto LVI. Chitrakiita 561 

Canto LVII. Sumantra's Return 566 

Canto LVIII. Rama's Message 570 

Canto LIX. Dasaratha's Lament 574 

Canto LX. Kausalya Consoled 579 

Canto LXI. Kausalya's Lament 582 

Canto LXII. Dasaratha Consoled 585 

Canto LXIII. The Hermit's Son 587 

Canto LXIV. Dasaratha's Death 593 

Canto LXV. The Women's Lament 602 

Canto LXVI. The Embalming 606 

Canto LXVII. The Praise Of Kings 608 

Canto LXVIII. The Envoys 612 

Canto LXIX. Bharat's Dream 617 

Canto LXX. Bharat's Departure 619 

Canto LXXI. Bharat's Return 623 

Canto LXXII. Bharat's Inquiry 628 

Canto LXXIII. Kaikeyi Reproached 635 

Canto LXXIV. Bharat's Lament 638 

Canto LXXV. The Abjuration 642 

Canto LXXVI. The Funeral 648 

Canto LXXVII. The Gathering Of The Ashes 651 

Canto LXXVIII. Manthara Punished 654 

Canto LXXIX. Bharat's Commands 657 

Canto LXXX. The Way Prepared 659 

Canto LXXXI. The Assembly 662 

Canto LXXXII. The Departure 665 

Canto LXXXIII. The Journey Begun 669 

Canto LXXXIV. Guha's Anger 672 

Canto LXXXV. Guha And Bharat 675 

Canto LXXXVI. Guha's Speech 678 

Canto LXXXVII. Guha's Story 680 



viii The Ramayana 

Canto LXXXVIII. The Ingudi Tree 683 

Canto LXXXIX. The Passage Of Ganga 687 

Canto XC. The Hermitage 689 

Canto XCI. Bharadvaja's Feast 692 

Canto XCII. Bharat's Farewell 702 

Canto XCIII. Chitrakiita In Sight 707 

Canto XCIV. Chitrakiita 710 

Canto XCV. Mandakini 714 

Canto XCVI. The Magic Shaft 716 

Canto XCVII. Lakshman's Anger 723 

Canto XCVIII. Lakshman Calmed 727 

Canto XCIX. Bharat's Approach 731 

Canto C. The Meeting 732 

Canto CI. Bharata Questioned 737 

Canto CII. Bharat's Tidings 740 

Canto CIII. The Funeral Libation 741 

Canto CIV. The Meeting With The Queens 747 

Canto CV. Rama's Speech 750 

Canto CVI. Bharat's Speech 755 

Canto CVII. Rama's Speech 759 

Canto CVIII. Javali's Speech 762 

Canto CIX. The Praises Of Truth 764 

Canto CX. The Sons Of Ikshvaku 770 

Canto CXI. Counsel To Bharat 774 

Canto CXII. The Sandals 778 

Canto CXIII. Bharat's Return 782 

Canto CXIV. Bharat's Departure 785 

Canto CXV. Nandigram 787 

Canto CXVI. The Hermit's Speech 790 

Canto CXVII. Anasiiya 793 

Canto CXVIII. Anasuya's Gifts 797 

Canto CXIX. The Forest 803 

BOOK III 807 

Canto I. The Hermitage 807 



IX 



Canto II. Viradha 810 

Canto III. Viradha Attacked 813 

Canto IV. Viradha's Death 817 

Canto V. Sarabhanga 822 

Canto VI. Rama's Promise 828 

Canto VII. Sutfkshna 831 

Canto VIII. The Hermitage 835 

Canto IX. Sfta's Speech 838 

Canto X. Rama's Reply 842 

Canto XI. Agastya 845 

Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow 856 

Canto XIII. Agastya's Counsel 862 

Canto XIV. Jatayus 865 

Canto XV. Panchavati 870 

Canto XVI. Winter 875 

Canto XVII. Siirpanakha 880 

Canto XVIII. The Mutilation 884 

Canto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara 888 

Canto XX. The Giants' Death 891 

Canto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara 895 

Canto XXII. Khara's Wrath 897 

Canto XXIII. The Omens 900 

Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight 904 

Canto XXV. The Battle 910 

Canto XXVI. Dushan's Death 915 

Canto XXVII. The Death Of Trisiras 920 

Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted 923 

Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat 927 

Canto XXX. Khara's Death 931 

Canto XXXI. Ravan 936 

Canto XXXII. Ravan Roused 944 

Canto XXXIII. Surpanakha's Speech 947 

Canto XXXIV. Surpanakha's Speech 951 

Canto XXXV. Ravan's Journey 954 



The Ramayana 

Canto XXXVI. Ravan's Speech 960 

Canto XXXVII. Maricha's Speech 963 

Canto XXXVIII. Maricha's Speech 966 

Canto XXXIX. Maricha's Speech 971 

Canto XL. Ravan's Speech 974 

Canto XLI. Maricha's Reply 978 

Canto XLII. Maricha Transformed 980 

Canto XLIII. The Wondrous Deer 985 

Canto XLIV. Maricha's Death 991 

Canto XLV. Lakshman's Departure 995 

Canto XLVI. The Guest 1000 

Canto XLVII. Ravan's Wooing 1005 

Canto XLVIII. Ravan's Speech 1011 

Canto XLIX. The Rape Of Sita 1014 

Canto L. Jatayus 1020 

Canto LI. The Combat 1023 

Canto LII. Ravan's Flight 1029 

Canto LIII. Sita's Threats 1035 

Canto LIV. Lanka 1038 

Canto LV. Sita In Prison 1042 

Canto LVI. Sita's Disdain 1047 

Canto LVII. Sita Comforted 1051 

Canto LVIII. The Brothers' Meeting 1055 

Canto LIX. Rama's Return 1058 

Canto LX. Lakshman Reproved 1061 

Canto LXI. Rama's Lament 1064 

Canto LXII. Rama's Lament 1069 

Canto LXIII. Rama's Lament 1073 

Canto LXIV. Rama's Lament 1075 

Canto LXV. Rama's Wrath 1079 

Canto LXVI. Lakshman's Speech 1088 

Canto LXVII. Rama Appeased 1090 

Canto LXVIII. Jatayus 1093 

Canto LXIX. The Death Of Jatayus 1097 



XI 



Canto LXX. Kabandha 1102 

Canto LXXI. Kabandha's Speech 1109 

Canto LXXII. Kabandha's Tale 1112 

Canto LXXIII. Kabandha's Counsel 1116 

Canto LXXIV. Kabandha's Death 1119 

Canto LXXV. Savari 1125 

Canto LXXVI. Pampa 1129 

BOOK IV 1134 

Canto I. Rama's Lament 1134 

Canto II. Sugriva's Alarm 1151 

Canto III. Hanuman's Speech 1155 

Canto IV. Lakshman's Reply 1160 

Canto V. The League 1166 

Canto VI. The Tokens 1170 

Canto VII. Rama Consoled 1174 

Canto VIII. Rama's Promise 1177 

Canto IX. Sugriva's Story 1183 

Canto X. Sugriva's Story 1186 

Canto XI. Dundubhi 1190 

Canto XII. The Palm Trees 1201 

Canto XIII. The Return To Kishkindha 1206 

Canto XIV. The Challenge 1210 

Canto XV. Tara 1212 

Canto XVI. The Fall Of Bali 1216 

Canto XVII. Bali's Speech 1220 

Canto XVIII. Rama's Reply 1228 

Canto XIX. Tara's Grief 1236 

Canto XX. Tara's Lament 1240 

Canto XXI. Hanuman's Speech 1243 

Canto XXII. Bali Dead 1245 

Canto XXIII. Tara's Lament 1250 

Canto XXIV. Sugriva's Lament 1254 

Canto XXV. Rama's Speech 1256 

Canto XXVI. The Coronation 1262 



xii The Ramayana 

Canto XXVII. Rama On The Hill 1267 

Canto XXVIII. The Rains 1272 

Canto XXIX. Hanuman's Counsel 1276 

Canto XXX. Rama's Lament 1280 

Canto XXXI. The Envoy 1284 

Canto XXXII. Hanuman's Counsel 1290 

Canto XXXIII. Lakshman's Entry 1292 

Canto XXXIV. Lakshman's Speech 1299 

Canto XXXV. Tara's Speech 1301 

Canto XXXVI. Sugrfva's Speech 1304 

Canto XXXVII. The Gathering 1306 

Canto XXXVIII. Sugrfva's Departure 1311 

Canto XXXIX. The Vanar Host 1314 

Canto XL. The Army Of The East 1318 

Canto XLI. The Army Of The South 1326 

Canto XLII. The Army Of The West 1331 

Canto XLIII. The Army Of The North 1336 

Canto XLIV. The Ring 1339 

Canto XLV. The Departure 1340 

Canto XLVI. Sugrfva's Tale 1342 

Canto XLVII. The Return 1344 

Canto XLVIII. The Asur's Death 1345 

Canto XLIX. Angad's Speech 1347 

Canto L. The Enchanted Cave 1349 

Canto LI. Svayamprabha 1351 

Canto LII. The Exit 1353 

Canto LIII. Angad's Counsel 1356 

Canto LIV. Hanuman's Speech 1358 

Canto LV. Angad's Reply 1360 

Canto LVI. Sampati 1363 

Canto LVII. Angad's Speech 1365 

Canto LVIII. Tidings Of Sfta 1367 

Canto LIX. Sampati's Story 1371 

Canto LX. Sampati's Story 1373 



Xlll 



Canto LXI. Sampati's Story 1375 

Canto LXII. Sampati's Story 1377 

Canto LXIII. Sampati's Story 1379 

Canto LXIV. The Sea 1381 

Canto LXV. The Council 1383 

Canto LXVI. Hanuman 1385 

Canto LXVII. Hanuman's Speech 1389 

BOOKV 1392 

Canto I. Hanuman's Leap 1392 

Canto II. Lanka 1402 

Canto III. The Guardian Goddess 1405 

Canto IV. Within The City 1407 

Canto VI. The Court 1409 

Canto VII. Ravan's Palace 1411 

Canto VIII. The Enchanted Car 1413 

Canto IX. The Ladies' Bower 1414 

Canto X. Ravan Asleep 1417 

Canto XI. The Banquet Hall 1419 

Canto XII. The Search Renewed 1420 

Canto XIII. Despair And Hope 1422 

Canto XIV. The Asoka Grove 1425 

Canto XV. SM 1426 

Canto XVI. Hanuman's Lament 1427 

Canto XVII. Sita's Guard 1429 

Canto XVIII. Ravan 1430 

Canto XIX. Sita's Fear 1432 

Canto XX. Ravan's Wooing 1433 

Canto XXI. Sita's Scorn 1436 

Canto XXII. Ravan's Threat 1438 

Canto XXIII. The Demons' Threats 1441 

Canto XXIV. Sita's Reply 1443 

Canto XXV. Sita's Lament 1444 

Canto XXVI. Sita's Lament 1446 

Canto XXVII. Trijata's Dream 1447 



xiv The Ramayana 

Canto XXX. Hanuman's Deliberation 1449 

Canto XXXI. Hanuman's Speech 1452 

Canto XXXII. Sita's Doubt 1453 

Canto XXXIII. The Colloquy 1454 

Canto XXXIV. Hanuman's Speech 1457 

Canto XXXV. Hanuman's Speech 1459 

Canto XXXVI. Rama's Ring 1460 

Canto XXXVII. Sita's Speech 1463 

Canto XXXVIII. Sita's Gem 1466 

Canto XLI. The Ruin Of The Grove 1468 

Canto XLII. The Giants Roused 1470 

Canto XLIII. The Ruin Of The Temple 1473 

Canto XLIV. Jambumali's Death 1474 

Canto XLV. The Seven Defeated 1476 

Canto XLVI. The Captains 1478 

Canto XLVII. The Death Of Aksha 1479 

Canto XLVIII. Hanuman Captured 1481 

Canto XLIX. Ravan 1483 

Canto L. Prahasta's Questions 1484 

Canto LI. Hanuman's Reply 1486 

Canto LII. Vibhishan's Speech 1488 

Canto LIII. The Punishment 1489 

Canto LIV. The Burning Of Lanka 1491 

Canto LV. Fear For Sita 1493 

Canto LVI. Mount Arishta 1495 

Canto LVII. Hanuman's Return 1496 

Canto LVIII. The Feast Of Honey 1498 

Canto LXV. The Tidings 1500 

Canto LXVI. Rama's Speech 1501 

BOOK VI 1504 

Canto I. Rama's Speech 1504 

Canto II. Sugriva's Speech 1505 

Canto III. Lanka 1506 

Canto IV. The March 1508 



XV 



Canto V. Rama's Lament 1515 

Canto VI. Ravan's Speech 1517 

Canto VII. Ravan Encouraged 1519 

Canto VIII. Prahasta's Speech 1521 

Canto IX. Vibhishan's Counsel 1524 

Canto X. Vibhishan's Counsel 1526 

Canto XI. The Summons 1529 

Canto XII. Ravan's Speech 1531 

Canto XIII. Ravan's Speech 1535 

Canto XIV. Vibhishan's Speech 1537 

Canto XV. Indrajit's Speech 1539 

Canto XVI. Ravan's Speech 1541 

Canto XVII. Vibhishan's Flight 1544 

Canto XVIII. Rama's Speech 1550 

Canto XIX. Vibhishan's Counsel 1553 

Canto XX. The Spies 1556 

Canto XXI. Ocean Threatened 1560 

Canto XXII. Ocean Threatened 1562 

Canto XXIII. The Omens 1569 

Canto XXIV. The Spy's Return 1570 

Canto XXV. Ravan's Spies 1574 

Canto XXVI. The Vanar Chiefs 1578 

Canto XXVII. The Vanar Chiefs 1581 

Canto XXVIII. The Chieftains 1583 

Canto XXIX. Sardula Captured 1585 

Canto XXX. Sardinia's Speech 1588 

Canto XXXI. The Magic Head 1589 

Canto XXXII. Sita's Lament 1592 

Canto XXXIII. Sarama 1596 

Canto XXXIV. Sarama's Tidings 1599 

Canto XXXV. Malyavan's Speech 1601 

Canto XXXVI. Ravan's Reply 1604 

Canto XXXVII. Preparations 1606 

Canto XXXVIII. The Ascent Of Suvela 1608 



xvi The Ramayana 

Canto XXXIX. Lanka 1610 

Canto XL. Ravan Attacked 1611 

Canto XLI. Rama's Envoy 1614 

Canto XLH. The Sally 1618 

Canto XLIII. The Single Combats 1620 

Canto XLIV. The Night 1622 

Canto XLV. Indrajit's Victory 1625 

Canto XLVI. Indrajit's Triumph 1626 

Canto XLVII. SM 1629 

Canto XLVIII. Sita's Lament 1631 

Canto XLIX. Rama's Lament 1634 

Canto L. The Broken Spell 1637 

Canto LI. Dhumraksha's Sally 1641 

Canto LII. Dhumraksha's Death 1643 

Canto LIII. Vajradanshtra's Sally 1646 

Canto LIV. Vajradanshtra's Death 1647 

Canto LIX. Ravan's Sally 1650 

Canto LX. Kumbhakarna Roused 1660 

Canto LXI. The Vanars' Alarm 1666 

Canto LXII. Ravan's Request 1668 

Canto LXIII. Kumbhakarna's Boast 1670 

Canto LXIV. Mahodar's Speech 1672 

Canto LXV. Kumbhakarna's Speech 1674 

Canto LXVI. Kumbhakarna's Sally 1676 

Canto LXVII. Kumbhakarna's Death 1678 

Canto LXVIII. Ravan's Lament 1687 

Canto LXIX. Narantak's Death 1689 

Canto LXX. The Death Of Trisiras 1692 

Canto LXXI. Atikaya's Death 1695 

Canto LXXII. Ravan's Speech 1700 

Canto LXXIII. Indrajit's Victory 1701 

Canto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs 1704 

Canto LXXV. The Night Attack 1708 

Canto XCIII. Ravan's Lament 1712 



XVII 



Canto XCVI. Ravan's Sally 1715 

Canto C. Ravan In The Field 1717 

Canto CI. Lakshman's Fall 1720 

Canto CII. Lakshman Healed 1722 

Canto CIII. Indra's Car 1724 

Canto CVI. Glory To The Sun 1727 

Canto CVIII. The Battle 1730 

Canto CIX. The Battle 1731 

Canto CX. Ravan's Death 1733 

Canto CXI. Vibhishan's Lament 1734 

Canto CXII. The Rakshas Dames 1736 

Canto CXIII. Mandodarfs Lament 1737 

Canto CXIV. Vibhishan Consecrated 1741 

Canto CXV. Sita's Joy 1743 

Canto CXVI. The Meeting 1746 

Canto CXVII. Sita's Disgrace 1749 

Canto CXVIII. Sita's Reply 1750 

Canto CXIX. Glory To Vishnu 1753 

Canto CXX. Sita Restored 1755 

Canto CXXI. Dasaratha 1757 

Canto CXXII. Indra's Boon 1760 

Canto CXXIII. The Magic Car 1762 

Canto CXXIV. The Departure 1764 

Canto CXXV. The Return 1766 

Canto CXXVI. Bharat Consoled 1768 

Canto CXXVII. Rama's Message 1771 

Canto CXXVIII. Hanuman's Story 1774 

Canto CXXIX. The Meeting With Bharat 1775 

Canto CXXX. The Consecration 1780 

APPENDIX 1787 

Section XIII. Ravan Doomed 1787 

Caput XIV. RATIO NECANDI RAVANAE EXCOG- 

ITATA 1790 



xviii The Ramayana 

Caput XIV. IL MEZZO STABILITO PER UC- 

CIDERERAVANO 1793 

XIV 1796 

Uttarakanda 1799 

ADDITIONAL NOTES 1812 

Queen Fortune 1812 

Indra 1813 

Vishnu 1813 

Siva 1815 

Apsarases 1816 

Vishnu's Incarnation As Rama 1817 

Kusa and Lava 1820 

Parasurama, Page 87 1827 

Yama, Page 68 1828 

Fate, Page 68 1829 

Visvamitra, Page 76 1829 

Household Gods, Page 102 1829 

Page 107 1830 

Page 108 1833 

Page 109 1835 

Page 110 1835 

Page 120 1836 

Page 125 1836 

Page 125 1838 

Page 136 1838 

Page 152 1838 

Page 157 1840 

Page 161 1840 

Page 169 1841 

Page 174. The Praise Of Kings 1841 

Page 176. Salmah 1842 

Page 178. Bharat's Return 1843 

Page 183 1844 

Page 203 1844 



XIX 



Page 219 1845 

Page 249 1849 

Page 250 1849 

Page 257 1849 

Page 286. Urvasi 1854 

Page 324 1856 

Page 326 1856 

Page 329. Rama's Alliance With Sugriva 1857 

Page 342. The Fall Of Bali 1858 

Page 370. The Vanar Host 1859 

Page 372 1861 

Page 374 1863 

Page 378. Northern Kurus 1866 

Page 428 U 

Page 431 U 

Page 434 1869 

Page 436 1869 

Page 452 1869 

Page 462 1870 

Page 466 1870 

Page 470 1871 

Page 497 1871 

Page 489 1872 

Page 489 1873 

Page 492. Ravan's Funeral 1879 

Page 496 1880 

Page 503. The Meeting 1883 

Final Notes 1885 

INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1893 

Footnotes 1921 



[001] 



Invocation. 1 

Praise to Valmiki, 2 
bird of charming song, 3 

Who mounts on Poesy's sublimest spray, 
And sweetly sings with accent clear and strong 

Rama, aye Rama, in his deathless lay. 

Where breathes the man can listen to the strain 
That flows in music from Valmfki's tongue, 

Nor feel his feet the path of bliss attain 
When Rama's glory by the saint is sung ! 



The MSS. vary very considerably in these stanzas of invocation: many lines 
are generally prefixed in which not only the poet, but those who play the chief 
parts in the poem are panegyrized. It is self-apparent that they are not by the 
author of the Ramayan himself. 

2 "Valmiki was the son of Varuna, the regent of the waters, one of whose 
names is Prachetas. According to the Adhydtmd Rdmdyana, the sage, although 
a Brahman by birth, associated with foresters and robbers. Attacking on one 
occasion the seven Rishis, they expostulated with him successfully, and taught 
him the mantra of Rama reversed, or Mara, Mara, in the inaudible repetition of 
which he remained immovable for thousands of years, so that when the sages 
returned to the same spot they found him still there, converted into a valmik or 
ant-hill, by the nests of the termites, whence his name of Valmiki." 

WILSONJFNS. Specimens of the Hindu Theatre, Vol. I. p. 313. 

"Valmiki is said to have lived a solitary life in the woods: he is called both 
a muni and a rishi. The former word properly signifies an anchorite or hermit; 
the latter has reference chiefly to wisdom. The two words are frequently used 
promiscuously, and may both be rendered by the Latin vates in its earliest 
meaning of seer. Valmiki was both poet and seer, as he is said to have sung 
the exploits of Rama by the aid of divining insight rather than of knowledge 
naturally acquired." SCHLEGEL{FNS. 

3 Literally, Kokila, the Koi'l, or Indian Cuckoo. Schlegel translates "luscini- 



Invocation. 

The stream Ramayan leaves its sacred fount 

The whole wide world from sin and stain to free. 4 

The Prince of Hermits is the parent mount, 
The lordly Rama is the darling sea. 

Glory to him whose fame is ever bright! 
Glory to him, Prachetas' 5 holy son! 
Whose pure lips quaff with ever new delight 
The nectar-sea of deeds by Rama done. 

Hail, arch-ascetic, pious, good, and kind! 

Hail, Saint Valmfki, lord of every lore! 
Hail, holy Hermit, calm and pure of mind! 

Hail, First of Bards, Valmfki, hail once more! 



Comparison with the Ganges is implied, that river being called the purifier 
of the world. 

5 "This name may have been given to the father of Valmfki allegorically. If 
we look at the derivation of the word (pra, before, and chetas, mind) it is as if 
the poet were called the son of Prometheus, the Forethinker." SCHLEGEL{FNS. 



Book I. 6 



Canto I. Narad. 7 

OM. 8 

To sainted Narad, prince of those 
Whose lore in words of wisdom flows. 
Whose constant care and chief delight 
Were Scripture and ascetic rite, 
[002] The good Valmfki, first and best 

Of hermit saints, these words addressed: 5 
"In all this world, I pray thee, who 
Is virtuous, heroic, true? 
Firm in his vows, of grateful mind, 
To every creature good and kind? 
Bounteous, and holy, just, and wise, 
Alone most fair to all men's eyes? 
Devoid of envy, firm, and sage, 



6 Called in Sanskrit also Bdla-Kdnda, and in Hindi Bdl-Kdnd, i.e. the Book 
describing Rama's childhood, bdla meaning a boy up to his sixteenth year. 

7 A divine saint, son of Brahma. He is the eloquent messenger of the Gods, 
a musician of exquisite skill, and the inventor of the vind or Indian lute. He 
bears a strong resemblance to Hermes or Mercury. 

8 This mystic syllable, said to typify the supreme Deity, the Gods collectively, 
the Vedas, the three spheres of the world, the three holy fires, the three steps of 
Vishnu etc., prefaces the prayers and most venerated writings of the Hindus. 

9 This colloquy is supposed to have taken place about sixteen years after 
Rama's return from his wanderings and occupation of his ancestral throne. 



Canto I. Narad. 

Whose tranquil soul ne'er yields to rage? 
Whom, when his warrior wrath is high, 
Do Gods embattled fear and fly? 
Whose noble might and gentle skill 
The triple world can guard from ill? 
Who is the best of princes, he 
Who loves his people's good to see? 
The store of bliss, the living mine 
Where brightest joys and virtues shine? 
Queen Fortune's 10 best and dearest friend, 
Whose steps her choicest gifts attend? 
Who may with Sun and Moon compare, 
With Indra, 11 Vishnu, 12 Fire, and Air? 
Grant, Saint divine, 13 the boon I ask, 
For thee, I ween, an easy task, 
To whom the power is given to know 
If such a man breathe here below." 
Then Narad, clear before whose eye 
The present, past, and future lie, 14 



Called also Sri and Lakshmf, the consort of Vishnu, the Queen of Beauty as 
well as the Dea Fortuna. Her birth "from the full-flushed wave" is described in 
Canto XLV of this Book. 

11 One of the most prominent objects of worship in the Rig-veda, Indra was 
superseded in later times by the more popular deities Vishnu and Siva. He is 
the God of the firmament, and answers in many respects to the Jupiter Pluvius 
of the Romans. See Additional Notes. 

12 The second God of the Trimurti or Indian Trinity. Derived from the root 
vis to penetrate, the meaning of the name appears to be he who penetrates or 
pervades all things. An embodiment of the preserving power of nature, he is 
worshipped as a Saviour who has nine times been incarnate for the good of the 
world and will descend on earth once more. See Additional Notes and Muir's 
Sanskrit Texts passim. 

13 In Sanskrit devarshi. Rishi is the general appellation of sages, and another 
word is frequently prefixed to distinguish the degrees. A Brahmarshi is a 
theologian or Brahmanical sage; a Rajarshi is a royal sage or sainted king; a 
Devarshi is a divine or deified sage or saint. 

14 Trikdlajna. Literally knower of the three times. Both Schlegel and Gorresio 



The Ramayana 



Made ready answer: "Hermit, where 
Are graces found so high and rare? 
Yet listen, and my tongue shall tell 
In whom alone these virtues dwell. 
From old Ikshvaku's 15 line he came, 
Known to the world by Rama's name: 
With soul subdued, a chief of might, 
In Scripture versed, in glory bright, 
His steps in virtue's paths are bent, 
Obedient, pure, and eloquent. 
In each emprise he wins success, 
And dying foes his power confess. 
Tall and broad-shouldered, strong of limb, 
Fortune has set her mark on him. 
Graced with a conch-shell's triple line, 
[003] His throat displays the auspicious sign. 16 



futurorum eventuum in unguibus atque etiam in dentibus." Though the palmy 
days of Indian chiromancy have passed away, the art is still to some extent 
studied and believed in. 
quote Homer's. 

"0 c, fj5r| t' kovza, rd t' koo6\i£va, 
Ttpo t' eovtol 

"That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view, 
The past, the present, and the future knew." 

The Bombay edition reads trilokajha, who knows the three worlds (earth, 
air and heaven.) "It is by tapas (austere fervour) that rishis of subdued souls, 
subsisting on roots, fruits and air, obtain a vision of the three worlds with all 
things moving and stationary." MANU{FNS, XI. 236. 

15 Son of Manu, the first king of Kosala and founder of the solar dynasty or 
family of the Children of the Sun, the God of that luminary being the father of 
Manu. 

16 The Indians paid great attention to the art of physiognomy and believed that 
character and fortune could be foretold not from the face only but from marks 
upon the neck and hands. Three lines under the chin like those at the mouth of 
a conch (Saiikha) were regarded as a peculiarly auspicious sign indicating, as 
did also the mark of Vishnu's discus on the hand, one born to be a chakravartin 



Canto I. Narad. 

High destiny is clear impressed 

On massive jaw and ample chest, 

His mighty shafts he truly aims, 

And foemen in the battle tames. 

Deep in the muscle, scarcely shown, 

Embedded lies his collar-bone. 

His lordly steps are firm and free, 

His strong arms reach below his knee; 17 

All fairest graces join to deck 

His head, his brow, his stately neck, 

And limbs in fair proportion set: 

The manliest form e'er fashioned yet. 

Graced with each high imperial mark, 

His skin is soft and lustrous dark. 

Large are his eyes that sweetly shine 

With majesty almost divine. 

His plighted word he ne'er forgets; 

On erring sense a watch he sets. 

By nature wise, his teacher's skill 

Has trained him to subdue his will. 

Good, resolute and pure, and strong, 

He guards mankind from scathe and wrong, 

And lends his aid, and ne'er in vain, 

The cause of justice to maintain. 

Well has he studied o'er and o'er 



or universal emperor. In the palmistry of Europe the line of fortune, as well 

as the line of life, is in the hand. Cardan says that marks on the nails and 
teeth also show what is to happen to us: "Sunt etiam in nobis vestigia quaedam 

17 Long arms were regarded as a sign of heroic strength. 



8 The Ramayana 

The Vedas 18 and their kindred lore. 
Well skilled is he the bow to draw, 19 
Well trained in arts and versed in law; 
High-souled and meet for happy fate, 
Most tender and compassionate; 
The noblest of all lordly givers, 
Whom good men follow, as the rivers 
Follow the King of Floods, the sea: 
So liberal, so just is he. 



18 "Veda means originally knowing or knowledge, and this name is given by 
the Brahmans not to one work, but to the whole body of their most ancient 
sacred literature. Veda is the same word which appears in the Greek oi5a, I 
know, and in the English wise, wisdom, to wit. The name of Veda is commonly 
given to four collections of hymns, which are respectively known by the names 
of Rig-veda, Yajur-veda, Sama-veda, and Atharva-veda." 

"As the language of the Veda, the Sanskrit, is the most ancient type of the 
English of the present day, (Sanskrit and English are but varieties of one and 
the same language,) so its thoughts and feelings contain in reality the first roots 
and germs of that intellectual growth which by an unbroken chain connects our 
own generation with the ancestors of the Aryan race, — with those very people 
who at the rising and setting of the sun listened with trembling hearts to the 
songs of the Veda, that told them of bright powers above, and of a life to come 
after the sun of their own lives had set in the clouds of the evening. These men 
were the true ancestors of our race, and the Veda is the oldest book we have in 
which to study the first beginnings of our language, and of all that is embodied 
in language. We are by nature Aryan, Indo-European, not Semitic: our spiritual 
kith and kin are to be found in India, Persia, Greece, Italy, Germany: not in 
Mesopotamia, Egypt, or Palestine." 

Chips from a German Workshop, Vol. I. pp. 8. 4. 

19 As with the ancient Persians and Scythians, Indian princes were carefully 



Canto I. Narad. 9 

The joy of Queen Kausalya's 20 heart, 
In every virtue he has part: 
Firm as Himalaya's 21 snowy steep, 
Unfathomed like the mighty deep: 
The peer of Vishnu's power and might, 
And lovely as the Lord of Night; 22 
Patient as Earth, but, roused to ire, 
Fierce as the world-destroying fire; 
In bounty like the Lord of Gold, 23 
And Justice self in human mould. 

With him, his best and eldest son, 
By all his princely virtues won 
King Dasaratha 24 willed to share 
His kingdom as the Regent Heir. 
But when Kaikeyi, youngest queen, 
With eyes of envious hate had seen 
The solemn pomp and regal state 
Prepared the prince to consecrate, 
She bade the hapless king bestow 
Two gifts he promised long ago, 
That Rama to the woods should flee, 
And that her child the heir should be. 

By chains of duty firmly tied, 
The wretched king perforce complied. [004] 



instructed in archery which stands for military science in general, of which, 
among Hindu heroes, it was the most important branch. 

20 Chief of the three queens of Dasaratha and mother of Rama. 

21 From hima snow, (Greek XEip-wv, Latin hiems) and dlaya abode, the 
Mansion of snow. 

22 The moon (Soma, Indu, Chandra etc.) is masculine with the Indians as with 
the Germans. 

23 Kuvera, the Indian Plutus, or God of Wealth. 

24 The events here briefly mentioned will be related fully in the course of the 
poem. The first four cantos are introductory, and are evidently the work of a 
later hand than Valmiki's. 



10 The Ramayana 

Rama, to please Kaikeyi went 

Obedient forth to banishment. 

Then Lakshman's truth was nobly shown, 

Then were his love and courage known, 

When for his brother's sake he dared 

All perils, and his exile shared. 

And Sita, Rama's darling wife, 

Loved even as he loved his life, 

Whom happy marks combined to bless, 

A miracle of loveliness, 

Of Janak's royal lineage sprung, 

Most excellent of women, clung 

To her dear lord, like Rohini 

Rejoicing with the Moon to be. 

The King and people, sad of mood, 

The hero's car awhile pursued. 

But when Prince Rama lighted down 

At Sringavera's pleasant town, 

Where Ganga's holy waters flow, 



25 "Chandra, or the Moon, is fabled to have been married to the twenty-seven 
daughters of the patriarch Daksha, or Asvini and the rest, who are in fact 
personifications of the Lunar Asterisms. His favourite amongst them was 
Rohini to whom he so wholly devoted himself as to neglect the rest. They 
complained to their father, and Daksha repeatedly interposed, till, finding his 
remonstrances vain, he denounced a curse upon his son-in-law, in consequence 
of which he remained childless and became affected by consumption. The 
wives of Chandra having interceded in his behalf with their father, Daksha 
modified an imprecation which he could not recall, and pronounced that the 
decay should be periodical only, not permanent, and that it should alternate 
with periods of recovery. Hence the successive wane and increase of the Moon. 
Padma, Purdna, Swarga-Khanda, Sec. II. Rohini in Astronomy is the fourth 
lunar mansion, containing five stars, the principal of which is Aldebaran." 
WlLSON{FNS, Specimens of the Hindu Theatre. Vol. I. p. 234. 
The Bengal recension has a different reading: 

"Shone with her husband like the light 
Attendant on the Lord of Night." 



Canto I. Narad. 1 1 

He bade his driver turn and go. 

Guha, Nishadas' king, he met, 

And on the farther bank was set. 

Then on from wood to wood they strayed, 

O'er many a stream, through constant shade, 

As Bharadvaja bade them, till 

They came to Chitrakuta's hill. 

And Rama there, with Lakshman's aid, 

A pleasant little cottage made, 

And spent his days with Sita, dressed 

In coat of bark and deerskin vest. 26 

And Chitrakuta grew to be 

As bright with those illustrious three 

As Meru's 27 sacred peaks that shine 

With glory, when the Gods recline 

Beneath them: Siva's 28 self between 

The Lord of Gold and Beauty's Queen. 



26 The garb prescribed for ascetics by Manu. 



27 "Mount Meru, situated like Kailasa in the lofty regions to the north of the 
Himalayas, is celebrated in the traditions and myths of India. Meru and Kailasa 
are the two Indian Olympi. Perhaps they were held in such veneration be- 
cause the Sanskrit-speaking Indians remembered the ancient home where they 
dwelt with the other primitive peoples of their family before they descended 
to occupy the vast plains which extend between the Indus and the Ganges." 
GORRESIO{FNS. 

28 The third God of the Indian Triad, the God of destruction and reproduction. 
See Additional Notes. 



12 The Ramayana 

The aged king for Rama pined, 
And for the skies the earth resigned. 
Bharat, his son, refused to reign, 
Though urged by all the twice-born 29 train. 
Forth to the woods he fared to meet 
His brother, fell before his feet, 
And cried, "Thy claim all men allow: 
O come, our lord and king be thou." 
But Rama nobly chose to be 
Observant of his sire's decree. 
He placed his sandals 30 in his hand 
A pledge that he would rule the land: 
And bade his brother turn again. 
Then Bharat, finding prayer was vain, 
The sandals took and went away; 
Nor in Ayodhya would he stay. 
But turned to Nandigrama, where 
He ruled the realm with watchful care, 
Still longing eagerly to learn 
Tidings of Rama's safe return. 



Then lest the people should repeat 
Their visit to his calm retreat, 
Away from Chitrakuta's hill 
[005] Fared Rama ever onward till 



29 The epithet dwija, or twice-born, is usually appropriate to Brahmans, but 
is applicable to the three higher castes. Investiture with the sacred thread and 
initiation of the neophyte into certain religious mysteries are regarded as his 
regeneration or second birth. 

30 His shoes to be a memorial of the absent heir and to maintain his right. 
Kalidasa (Raghuvarisa, XII. 17.) says that they were to be adhidevate or 
guardian deities of the kingdom. 



Canto I. Narad. 13 

Beneath the shady trees he stood 
Of Dandaka's primeval wood, 
Viradha, giant fiend, he slew, 
And then Agastya's friendship knew. 
Counselled by him he gained the sword 
And bow of Indra, heavenly lord: 
A pair of quivers too, that bore 
Of arrows an exhaustless store. 
While there he dwelt in greenwood shade 
The trembling hermits sought his aid, 
And bade him with his sword and bow 
Destroy the fiends who worked them woe: 
To come like Indra strong and brave, 
A guardian God to help and save. 
And Rama's falchion left its trace 
Deep cut on Surpanakha's face: 
A hideous giantess who came 
Burning for him with lawless flame. 
Their sister's cries the giants heard. 
And vengeance in each bosom stirred: 
The monster of the triple head. 
And Dushan to the contest sped. 
But they and myriad fiends beside 
Beneath the might of Rama died. 

When Ravan, dreaded warrior, knew 
The slaughter of his giant crew: 
Ravan, the king, whose name of fear 
Earth, hell, and heaven all shook to hear: 
He bade the fiend Maricha aid 
The vengeful plot his fury laid. 
In vain the wise Maricha tried 
To turn him from his course aside: 
Not Ravan's self, he said, might hope 



14 The Ramayana 

With Rama and his strength to cope. 

Impelled by fate and blind with rage 

He came to Rama's hermitage. 

There, by Marietta's magic art, 

He wiled the princely youths apart, 

The vulture 31 slew, and bore away 

The wife of Rama as his prey. 

The son of Raghu 32 came and found 

Jatayu slain upon the ground. 

He rushed within his leafy cot; 

He sought his wife, but found her not. 

Then, then the hero's senses failed; 

In mad despair he wept and wailed. 

Upon the pile that bird he laid, 

And still in quest of Sita strayed. 

A hideous giant then he saw, 

Kabandha named, a shape of awe. 

The monstrous fiend he smote and slew, 

And in the flame the body threw; 

When straight from out the funeral flame 

In lovely form Kabandha came, 

And bade him seek in his distress 

A wise and holy hermitess. 

By counsel of this saintly dame 

To Pampa's pleasant flood he came, 

And there the steadfast friendship won 

Of Hanuman the Wind-God's son. 

Counselled by him he told his grief 



31 Jatayu, a semi-divine bird, the friend of Rama, who fought in defence of 
Sita. 

32 Raghu was one of the most celebrated ancestors of Rama whose commonest 
appellation is, therefore, Raghava or descendant of Raghu. Kalidasa in the 
Raghuransa makes him the son of Dilipa and great-grandfather of Rama. See 
Idylls from the Sanskrit, "Aja" and "Dilipa." 



Canto I. Narad. 15 

To great Sugriva, Vanar chief, 
Who, knowing all the tale, before 
The sacred flame alliance swore. 
Sugriva to his new-found friend 
Told his own story to the end: 
His hate of Bali for the wrong 
And insult he had borne so long. 
And Rama lent a willing ear 
And promised to allay his fear. 
Sugriva warned him of the might 
Of Bali, matchless in the fight, 
And, credence for his tale to gain, 
Showed the huge fiend 33 by Bali slain. 
The prostrate corse of mountain size 
Seemed nothing in the hero's eyes; 
He lightly kicked it, as it lay, 
And cast it twenty leagues 34 away. 
To prove his might his arrows through 
Seven palms in line, uninjured, flew. 
He cleft a mighty hill apart, 
And down to hell he hurled his dart. 
Then high Sugriva's spirit rose, 
Assured of conquest o'er his foes. 
With his new champion by his side 
To vast Kishkindha's cave he hied. 
Then, summoned by his awful shout, 
King Bali came in fury out, 
First comforted his trembling wife, 
Then sought Sugriva in the strife. 
One shaft from Rama's deadly bow 
The monarch in the dust laid low. 



34 Literally ten yojanas. The yojana is a measure of uncertain length variously 
reckoned as equal to nine miles, five, and a little less. 



16 The Ramayana 

Then Rama bade Sugriva reign 
In place of royal Bali slain. 
Then speedy envoys hurried forth 
Eastward and westward, south and north, 
Commanded by the grateful king 
Tidings of Rama's spouse to bring. 

Then by Sampati's counsel led, 
Brave Hanuman, who mocked at dread, 
Sprang at one wild tremendous leap 
Two hundred leagues across the deep. 
To Lanka's 35 town he urged his way, 
[006] Where Ravan held his royal sway. 

There pensive 'neath Asoka 36 boughs 

He found poor SM, Rama's spouse. 

He gave the hapless girl a ring, 

A token from her lord and king. 

A pledge from her fair hand he bore; 

Then battered down the garden door. 

Five captains of the host he slew, 

Seven sons of councillors o'erthrew; 

Crushed youthful Aksha on the field, 

Then to his captors chose to yield. 

Soon from their bonds his limbs were free, 

But honouring the high decree 

Which Brahma 37 had pronounced of yore, 



35 Ceylon. 

36 The Jonesia Asoka is a most beautiful tree bearing a profusion of red 
blossoms. 

37 Brahma, the Creator, is usually regarded as the first God of the Indian 
Trinity, although, as Kalidasa says: 

"Of Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, each may be 
First, second, third, amid the blessed Three." 

Brahma had guaranteed Ravan's life against all enemies except man. 



Canto I. Narad. 17 

He calmly all their insults bore. 
The town he burnt with hostile flame, 
And spoke again with Rama's dame, 
Then swiftly back to Rama flew 
With tidings of the interview. 

Then with Sugriva for his guide, 
Came Rama to the ocean side. 
He smote the sea with shafts as bright 
As sunbeams in their summer height, 
And quick appeared the Rivers' King 38 
Obedient to the summoning. 
A bridge was thrown by Nala o'er 
The narrow sea from shore to shore. 39 
They crossed to Lanka's golden town, 
Where Rama's hand smote Ravan down. 
Vibhishan there was left to reign 
Over his brother's wide domain. 
To meet her husband Sita came; 
But Rama, stung with ire and shame, 
With bitter words his wife addressed 
Before the crowd that round her pressed. 
But Sita, touched with noble ire, 
Gave her fair body to the fire. 
Then straight the God of Wind appeared, 
And words from heaven her honour cleared. 
And Rama clasped his wife again, 
Uninjured, pure from spot and stain, 
Obedient to the Lord of Fire 
And the high mandate of his sire. 
Led by the Lord who rules the sky, 



38 Ocean personified. 



39 The rocks lying between Ceylon and the mainland are still called Rama's 
Bridge by the Hindus. 



1 8 The Ramayana 

The Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh, 
And honoured him with worthy meed, 
Rejoicing in each glorious deed. 
His task achieved, his foe removed, 
He triumphed, by the Gods approved. 
By grace of Heaven he raised to life 
The chieftains slain in mortal strife; 
Then in the magic chariot through 
The clouds to Nandigrama flew. 
Met by his faithful brothers there, 
He loosed his votive coil of hair: 
Thence fair Ayodhya's town he gained, 
And o'er his father's kingdom reigned. 
Disease or famine ne'er oppressed 
His happy people, richly blest 
With all the joys of ample wealth, 
Of sweet content and perfect health. 
No widow mourned her well-loved mate, 
No sire his son's untimely fate. 
They feared not storm or robber's hand; 
No fire or flood laid waste the land: 
The Golden Age 40 had come again 

To bless the days of Rama's reign. 



From him, the great and glorious king, 
Shall many a princely scion spring. 
And he shall rule, beloved by men, 



40 "The Brahmans, with a system rather cosmogonical than chronological, 
divide the present mundane period into four ages or yugas as they call them: 
the Krita, the Treta, the Dwapara, and the Kali. The Krita, called also the 
Deva-yuga or that of the Gods, is the age of truth, the perfect age, the Treta is 
the age of the three sacred fires, domestic and sacrificial; the Dwapara is the 
age of doubt; the Kali, the present age, is the age of evil." GORRESIO.{FNS 



Canto II. Brahma's Visit 19 

Ten thousand years and hundreds ten, 41 
And when his life on earth is past 
To Brahma's world shall go at last." 



Whoe'er this noble poem reads 
That tells the tale of Rama's deeds, 
Good as the Scriptures, he shall be 
From every sin and blemish free. 
Whoever reads the saving strain, 
With all his kin the heavens shall gain. 
Brahmans who read shall gather hence 
The highest praise for eloquence. 
The warrior, o'er the land shall reign, 
The merchant, luck in trade obtain; 
And Sudras listening 42 ne'er shall fail 
To reap advantage from the tale. 43 



[007] 



Canto II. Brahma's Visit 

41 The ancient kings of India enjoyed lives of more than patriarchal length as 
will appear in the course of the poem. 

42 Sudras, men of the fourth and lowest pure caste, were not allowed to read 
the poem, but might hear it recited. 

43 The three slokes or distichs which these twelve lines represent are evidently 
a still later and very awkward addition to the introduction. 



20 The Ramayana 

Valmfki, graceful speaker, heard, 

To highest admiration stirred. 

To him whose fame the tale rehearsed 

He paid his mental worship first; 

Then with his pupil humbly bent 

Before the saint most eloquent. 

Thus honoured and dismissed the seer 

Departed to his heavenly sphere. 

Then from his cot Valmfki hied 

To Tamasa's 44 sequestered side, 

Not far remote from Ganga's tide. 

He stood and saw the ripples roll 

Pellucid o'er a pebbly shoal. 

To Bharadvaja 45 by his side 

He turned in ecstasy, and cried: 

"See, pupil dear, this lovely sight, 

The smooth-floored shallow, pure and bright, 

With not a speck or shade to mar, 

And clear as good men's bosoms are. 

Here on the brink thy pitcher lay, 

And bring my zone of bark, I pray. 

Here will I bathe: the rill has not, 

To lave the limbs, a fairer spot. 

Do quickly as I bid, nor waste 

The precious time; away, and haste." 



44 There are several rivers in India of this name, now corrupted into Tonse. 
The river here spoken of is that which falls into the Ganges a little below 
Allahabad. 

45 "In Book II, Canto LIV, we meet with a saint of this name presiding 
over a convent of disciples in his hermitage at the confluence of the Ganges 
and the Jumna. Thence the later author of these introductory cantos has 
borrowed the name and person, inconsistently indeed, but with the intention of 
enhancing the dignity of the poet by ascribing to him so celebrated a disciple." 
SCHLEGEL.{FNS 



Canto II. Brahma's Visit 21 

Obedient to his master's hest 
Quick from the cot he brought the vest; 
The hermit took it from his hand, 
And tightened round his waist the band; 
Then duly dipped and bathed him there, 
And muttered low his secret prayer. 
To spirits and to Gods he made 
Libation of the stream, and strayed 
Viewing the forest deep and wide 
That spread its shade on every side. 
Close by the bank he saw a pair 
Of curlews sporting fearless there. 
But suddenly with evil mind 
An outcast fowler stole behind, 
And, with an aim too sure and true, 
The male bird near the hermit slew. 
The wretched hen in wild despair 
With fluttering pinions beat the air, 
And shrieked a long and bitter cry 
When low on earth she saw him lie, 
Her loved companion, quivering, dead, 
His dear wings with his lifeblood red; 
And for her golden crested mate 
She mourned, and was disconsolate. 

The hermit saw the slaughtered bird, 
And all his heart with ruth was stirred. 
The fowler's impious deed distressed 
His gentle sympathetic breast, 
And while the curlew's sad cries rang 
Within his ears, the hermit sang: 
"No fame be thine for endless time, 
Because, base outcast, of thy crime, 
Whose cruel hand was fain to slay 



22 The Ramayana 

One of this gentle pair at play!" 
E'en as he spoke his bosom wrought 
And laboured with the wondering thought 
What was the speech his ready tongue 
Had uttered when his heart was wrung. 
He pondered long upon the speech, 
Recalled the words and measured each, 
And thus exclaimed the saintly guide 
To Bharadvaja by his side: 
"With equal lines of even feet, 
With rhythm and time and tone complete, 
The measured form of words I spoke 
In shock of grief be termed a sloke." 46 
And Bharadvaja, nothing slow 
His faithful love and zeal to show, 
Answered those words of wisdom, "Be 
The name, my lord, as pleases thee." 

As rules prescribe the hermit took 
Some lustral water from the brook. 
But still on this his constant thought 
Kept brooding, as his home he sought; 
While Bharadvaja paced behind, 
A pupil sage of lowly mind, 
And in his hand a pitcher bore 
With pure fresh water brimming o'er. 
Soon as they reached their calm retreat 
The holy hermit took his seat; 
His mind from worldly cares recalled, 
And mused in deepest thought enthralled. 



46 The poet plays upon the similarity in sound of the two words: soka, means 
grief, sloka, the heroic measure in which the poem is composed. It need 
scarcely be said that the derivation is fanciful. 



Canto II. Brahma's Visit 23 

Then glorious Brahma, 47 Lord Most High, 
Creator of the earth and sky, [008] 

The four-faced God, to meet the sage 
Came to Valmfki's hermitage. 
Soon as the mighty God he saw, 
Up sprang the saint in wondering awe. 
Mute, with clasped hands, his head he bent, 
And stood before him reverent. 
His honoured guest he greeted well, 
Who bade him of his welfare tell; 
Gave water for his blessed feet, 
Brought offerings, 48 and prepared a seat. 
In honoured place the God Most High 
Sate down, and bade the saint sit nigh. 
There sate before Valmfki's eyes 
The Father of the earth and skies; 
But still the hermit's thoughts were bent 
On one thing only, all intent 
On that poor curlew's mournful fate 
Lamenting for her slaughtered mate; 
And still his lips, in absent mood, 
The verse that told his grief, renewed: 



47 Brahma, the Creator, is usually regarded as the first person of the divine 
triad of India. The four heads with which he is represented are supposed to 
have allusion to the four corners of the earth which he is sometimes considered 
to personify. As an object of adoration Brahma has been entirely superseded 
by Siva and Vishnu. In the whole of India there is, I believe, but one temple 
dedicated to his worship. In this point the first of the Indian triad curiously 
resembles the last of the divine fraternity of Greece, Aides the brother of Zeus 
and Poseidon. "In all Greece, says Pausanias, there is no single temple of 
Aides, except at a single spot in Elis." See Gladstone's Juventus Mundi, p. 253. 

48 The argha or arghya was a libation or offering to a deity, a Brahman, or 
other venerable personage. According to one authority it consisted of water, 
milk, the points of Kiisa-grass, curds, clarified butter, rice, barley, and white 
mustard, according to another, of saffron, bel, unbroken grain, flowers, curds, 
diirba-grass, kiisa-grass, and sesamum. 



24 The Ramayana 

"Woe to the fowler's impious hand 
That did the deed that folly planned; 
That could to needless death devote 
The curlew of the tuneful throat!" 

The heavenly Father smiled in glee, 
And said, "O best of hermits, see, 
A verse, unconscious, thou hast made; 
No longer be the task delayed. 
Seek not to trace, with labour vain, 
The unpremeditated strain. 
The tuneful lines thy lips rehearsed 
Spontaneous from thy bosom burst. 
Then come, O best of seers, relate 
The life of Rama good and great, 
The tale that saintly Narad told, 
In all its glorious length unfold. 
Of all the deeds his arm has done 
Upon this earth, omit not one, 
And thus the noble life record 
Of that wise, brave, and virtuous lord. 
His every act to day displayed, 
His secret life to none betrayed: 
How Lakshman, how the giants fought; 
With high emprise and hidden thought: 
And all that Janak's child 49 befell 
Where all could see, where none could tell. 
The whole of this shall truly be 
Made known, O best of saints, to thee. 
In all thy poem, through my grace, 
No word of falsehood shall have place. 
Begin the story, and rehearse 
The tale divine in charming verse. 



49 Sita, daughter of Janak king of Mithila. 



Canto II. Brahma's Visit 25 

As long as in this firm-set land 
The streams shall flow, the mountains stand, 
So long throughout the world, be sure, 
The great Ramayan shall endure. 50 
While the Ramayan's ancient strain 
Shall glorious in the earth remain, 
To higher spheres shalt thou arise 
And dwell with me above the skies." 

He spoke, and vanished into air, 
And left Valmfki wondering there. 
The pupils of the holy man, 
Moved by their love of him, began 
To chant that verse, and ever more 
They marvelled as they sang it o'er: 
"Behold, the four-lined balanced rime, 
Repeated over many a time, 
In words that from the hermit broke 
In shock of grief, becomes a sloke." 
This measure now Valmfki chose 
Wherein his story to compose. 
In hundreds of such verses, sweet 
With equal lines and even feet, 
The saintly poet, lofty-souled, 
The glorious deeds of Rama told. 



50 "I congratulate myself," says Schlegel in the preface to his, alas, unfinished 
edition of the Ramayan, "that, by the favour of the Supreme Deity, I have been 
allowed to begin so great a work; I glory and make my boast that I too after so 
many ages have helped to confirm that ancient oracle declared to Valmfki by 
the Father of Gods and men: 

Dum stabunt montes, campis dum flumina current, 
Usque tuum toto carmen celebrabitur orbe." 



26 The Ramayana 

Canto III. The Argument. 

The hermit thus with watchful heed 
Received the poem's pregnant seed, 
And looked with eager thought around 
[009] If fuller knowledge might be found. 

His lips with water first bedewed, 51 
He sate, in reverent attitude 
On holy grass, 52 the points all bent 
Together toward the orient; 53 
And thus in meditation he 
Entered the path of poesy. 
Then clearly, through his virtue's might, 
All lay discovered to his sight, 
Whate'er befell, through all their life, 
Rama, his brother, and his wife: 
And Dasaratha and each queen 
At every time, in every scene: 
His people too, of every sort; 
The nobles of his princely court: 
Whate'er was said, whate'er decreed, 
Each time they sate each plan and deed: 
For holy thought and fervent rite 
Had so refined his keener sight 
That by his sanctity his view 
The present, past, and future knew, 
And he with mental eye could grasp, 
Like fruit within his fingers clasp, 



51 "The sipping of water is a requisite introduction of all rites: without it, says 
the Samha Purana, all acts of religion are vain." COLEBROOKE.{FNS 

52 The darhha or kusa (Pea cynosuroides), a kind of grass used in sacrifice by 
the Hindus as cerbena was by the Romans. 

53 The direction in which the grass should be placed upon the ground as a seat 
for the Gods, on occasion of offerings made to them. 



Canto III. The Argument. 27 

The life of Rama, great and good, 

Roaming with Sita in the wood. 

He told, with secret-piercing eyes, 

The tale of Rama's high emprise, 

Each listening ear that shall entice, 

A sea of pearls of highest price. 

Thus good Valmfki, sage divine, 

Rehearsed the tale of Raghu's line, 

As Narad, heavenly saint, before 

Had traced the story's outline o'er. 

He sang of Rama's princely birth, 

His kindness and heroic worth; 

His love for all, his patient youth, 

His gentleness and constant truth, 

And many a tale and legend old 

By holy Visvamitra told. 

How Janak's child he wooed and won, 

And broke the bow that bent to none. 

How he with every virtue fraught 

His namesake Rama 54 met and fought. 

The choice of Rama for the throne; 

The malice by Kaikeyi shown, 

Whose evil counsel marred the plan 

And drove him forth a banisht man. 

How the king grieved and groaned, and cried, 

And swooned away and pining died. 

The subjects' woe when thus bereft; 

And how the following crowds he left: 

With Guha talked, and firmly stern 

Ordered his driver to return. 

How Ganga's farther shore he gained; 

By Bharadvaja entertained, 



28 The Ramayana 

By whose advice he journeyed still 

And came to Chitrakuta's hill. 

How there he dwelt and built a cot; 

How Bharat journeyed to the spot; 

His earnest supplication made; 

Drink-offerings to their father paid; 

The sandals given by Rama's hand, 

As emblems of his right, to stand: 

How from his presence Bharat went 

And years in Nandigrama spent. 

How Rama entered Dandak wood 

And in Sutfkhna's presence stood. 

The favour Anasiiya showed, 

The wondrous balsam she bestowed. 

How Sarabhanga's dwelling-place 

They sought; saw Indra face to face; 

The meeting with Agastya gained; 

The heavenly bow from him obtained. 

How Rama with Viradha met; 

Their home in Panchavata set. 

How Surpanakha underwent 

The mockery and disfigurement. 

Of Trisira's and Khara's fall, 

Of Ravan roused at vengeance call, 

Maricha doomed, without escape; 

The fair Videhan 55 lady's rape. 

How Rama wept and raved in vain, 

And how the Vulture-king was slain. 

How Rama fierce Kabandha slew; 

Then to the side of Pampa drew, 

Met Hanuman, and her whose vows 

Were kept beneath the greenwood boughs. 



55 Sita. Videha was the country of which Mithila was the capital. 



Canto III. The Argument. 29 

How Raghu's son, the lofty-souled, 

On Pampa's bank wept uncontrolled, 

Then journeyed, Rishyamuk to reach, 

And of Sugriva then had speech. 

The friendship made, which both had sought: 

How Bali and Sugriva fought. 

How Bali in the strife was slain, 

And how Sugriva came to reign. 

The treaty, Tara's wild lament; 

The rainy nights in watching spent. 

The wrath of Raghu's lion son; 

The gathering of the hosts in one. 

The sending of the spies about, 

And all the regions pointed out. 

The ring by Rama's hand bestowed; 

The cave wherein the bear abode. 

The fast proposed, their lives to end; 

Sampati gained to be their friend. [Oio] 

The scaling of the hill, the leap 

Of Hanuman across the deep. 

Ocean's command that bade them seek 

Mainaka of the lofty peak. 

The death of Sinhika, the sight 

Of Lanka with her palace bright 

How Hanuman stole in at eve; 

His plan the giants to deceive. 

How through the square he made his way 

To chambers where the women lay, 

Within the Asoka garden came 

And there found Rama's captive dame. 

His colloquy with her he sought, 

And giving of the ring he brought. 

How Sita gave a gem o'erjoyed; 

How Hanuman the grove destroyed. 



30 The Ramayana 

How giantesses trembling fled, 
And servant fiends were smitten dead. 
How Hanuman was seized; their ire 
When Lanka blazed with hostile fire. 
His leap across the sea once more; 
The eating of the honey store. 
How Rama he consoled, and how 
He showed the gem from Sita's brow. 
With Ocean, Rama's interview; 
The bridge that Nala o'er it threw. 
The crossing, and the sitting down 
At night round Lanka's royal town. 
The treaty with Vibhishan made: 
The plan for Ravan's slaughter laid. 
How Kumbhakarna in his pride 
And Meghanada fought and died. 
How Ravan in the fight was slain, 
And captive Sita brought again. 
Vibhishan set upon the throne; 
The flying chariot Pushpak shown. 
How Brahma and the Gods appeared, 
And Sita's doubted honour cleared. 
How in the flying car they rode 
To Bharadvaja's cabin abode. 
The Wind-God's son sent on afar; 
How Bharat met the flying car. 
How Rama then was king ordained; 
The legions their discharge obtained. 
How Rama cast his queen away; 
How grew the people's love each day. 
Thus did the saint Valmfki tell 
Whate'er in Rama's life befell, 
And in the closing verses all 
That yet to come will once befall. 



Canto IV. The Rhapsodists. 31 

Canto IV. The Rhapsodists. 



When to the end the tale was brought, 
Rose in the sage's mind the thought; 
"Now who throughout this earth will go, 
And tell it forth that all may know?" 
As thus he mused with anxious breast, 
Behold, in hermit's raiment dressed, 
Kusa and Lava 56 came to greet 
Their master and embrace his feet. 
The twins he saw, that princely pair 
Sweet- voiced, who dwelt beside him there 
None for the task could be more fit, 
For skilled were they in Holy Writ; 
And so the great Ramayan, fraught 
With lore divine, to these he taught: 
The lay whose verses sweet and clear 
Take with delight the listening ear, 
That tell of Sita's noble life 
And Ravan's fall in battle strife. 
Great joy to all who hear they bring, 
Sweet to recite and sweet to sing. 
For music's sevenfold notes are there, 
And triple measure, 57 wrought with care 
With melody and tone and time, 
And flavours 58 that enhance the rime; 



56 The twin sons of Rama and Sfta, born after Rama had repudiated Sfta, and 
brought up in the hermitage of Valmfki. As they were the first rhapsodists 
the combined name Kusilava signifies a reciter of poems, or an improvisatore, 
even to the present day. 

57 Perhaps the bass, tenor, and treble, or quick, slow and middle times, we 
know but little of the ancient music of the Hindus. 

58 Eight flavours or sentiments are usually enumerated, love, mirth, tender- 
ness, anger, heroism, terror, disgust, and surprise; tranquility or content, or 



32 The Ramayana 

Heroic might has ample place, 
And loathing of the false and base, 
With anger, mirth, and terror, blent 
With tenderness, surprise, content. 
When, half the hermit's grace to gain, 
And half because they loved the strain, 
The youth within their hearts had stored 
The poem that his lips outpoured, 
Valmfki kissed them on the head, 
As at his feet they bowed, and said; 
"Recite ye this heroic song 
In tranquil shades where sages throng: 
Recite it where the good resort, 
In lowly home and royal court." 

The hermit ceased. The tuneful pair, 
Like heavenly minstrels sweet and fair, 
In music's art divinely skilled, 
Their saintly master's word fulfilled. 
Like Rama's self, from whom they came, 
[oil] They showed their sire in face and frame, 

As though from some fair sculptured stone 
Two selfsame images had grown. 
Sometimes the pair rose up to sing, 
Surrounded by a holy ring, 
Where seated on the grass had met 
Full many a musing anchoret. 
Then tears bedimmed those gentle eyes, 
As transport took them and surprise, 
And as they listened every one 
Cried in delight, Well done! Well done! 



paternal tenderness, is sometimes considered the ninth. WILSONJFNS. See the 
Sdhitya Darpana or Mirror of Composition translated by Dr. Ballantyne and 
Babu Pramadadasa Mittra in the Bibliotheca Indica. 



Canto IV. The Rhapsodists. 33 

Those sages versed in holy lore 

Praised the sweet minstrels more and more: 

And wondered at the singers' skill, 

And the bard's verses sweeter still, 

Which laid so clear before the eye 

The glorious deeds of days gone by. 

Thus by the virtuous hermits praised, 

Inspirited their voice they raised. 

Pleased with the song this holy man 

Would give the youths a water-can; 

One gave a fair ascetic dress, 

Or sweet fruit from the wilderness. 

One saint a black-deer's hide would bring, 

And one a sacrificial string: 

One, a clay pitcher from his hoard, 

And one, a twisted munja cord. 59 

One in his joy an axe would find, 

One braid, their plaited locks to bind. 

One gave a sacrificial cup, 

One rope to tie their fagots up; 

While fuel at their feet was laid, 

Or hermit's stool of fig-tree made. 

All gave, or if they gave not, none 

Forgot at least a benison. 

Some saints, delighted with their lays, 

Would promise health and length of days; 

Others with surest words would add 

Some boon to make their spirit glad. 

In such degree of honour then 

That song was held by holy men: 

That living song which life can give, 



59 Saccharum Munja is a plant from whose fibres is twisted the sacred string 
which a Brahman wears over one shoulder after he has been initiated by a rite 
which in some respects answers to confirmation. 



34 The Ramayana 

By which shall many a minstrel live. 
In seat of kings, in crowded hall, 
They sang the poem, praised of all. 
And Rama chanced to hear their lay, 
While he the votive steed 60 would slay, 
And sent fit messengers to bring 
The minstrel pair before the king. 
They came, and found the monarch high 
Enthroned in gold, his brothers nigh; 
While many a minister below, 
And noble, sate in lengthened row. 
The youthful pair awhile he viewed 
Graceful in modest attitude, 
And then in words like these addressed 
His brother Lakshman and the rest: 
"Come, listen to the wondrous strain 
Recited by these godlike twain, 
Sweet singers of a story fraught 
With melody and lofty thought." 

The pair, with voices sweet and strong, 
Rolled the full tide of noble song, 
With tone and accent deftly blent 
To suit the changing argument. 
Mid that assembly loud and clear 
Rang forth that lay so sweet to hear, 
That universal rapture stole 
Through each man's frame and heart and soul. 
"These minstrels, blest with every sign 
That marks a high and princely line, 

In holy shades who dwell, 
Enshrined in Saint Valmfki's lay, 



60 A description of an Asvamedha or Horse Sacrifice is given in Canto XIII. 
of this Book. 



Canto V. Ayodhya. 35 

A monument to live for aye, 

My deeds in song shall tell." 
Thus Rama spoke: their breasts were fired, 
And the great tale, as if inspired, 

The youths began to sing, 
While every heart with transport swelled, 
And mute and rapt attention held 

The concourse and the king. 



Canto V. Ayodhya. 



"Ikshvaku's sons from days of old 
Were ever brave and mighty-souled. 
The land their arms had made their own 
Was bounded by the sea alone. 
Their holy works have won them praise, 
Through countless years, from Manu's days. 
Their ancient sire was Sagar, he 
Whose high command dug out the sea: 61 
With sixty thousand sons to throng 
Around him as he marched along. 
From them this glorious tale proceeds: 
The great Ramayan tells their deeds. 
This noble song whose lines contain 
Lessons of duty, love, and gain, 
We two will now at length recite, 
While good men listen with delight. 



61 This exploit is related in Canto XL. 



36 The Ramayana 

On Sarju's 62 bank, of ample size, 
[012] The happy realm of Kosal lies, 

With fertile length of fair champaign 

And flocks and herds and wealth of grain. 

There, famous in her old renown, 

Ayodhya 63 stands, the royal town, 

In bygone ages built and planned 

By sainted Manu's 64 princely hand. 

Imperial seat! her walls extend 

Twelve measured leagues from end to end, 

And three in width from side to side, 

With square and palace beautified. 

Her gates at even distance stand; 

Her ample roads are wisely planned. 

Right glorious is her royal street 

Where streams allay the dust and heat. 

On level ground in even row 

Her houses rise in goodly show: 

Terrace and palace, arch and gate 

The queenly city decorate. 

High are her ramparts, strong and vast, 

By ways at even distance passed, 



62 The Sarjii or Ghaghra, anciently called Sarayu, rises in the Himalayas, and 
after flowing through the province of Oudh, falls into the Ganges. 

63 The ruins of the ancient capital of Rama and the Children of the Sun may 
still be traced in the present Ajudhya near Fyzabad. Ajudhya is the Jerusalem 
or Mecca of the Hindus. 

64 A legislator and saint, the son of Brahma or a personification of Brahma 
himself, the creator of the world, and progenitor of mankind. Derived from the 
root man to think, the word means originally man, the thinker, and is found in 
this sense in the Rig-veda. 

Manu as a legislator is identified with the Cretan Minos, as progenitor of 
mankind with the German Mannus: "Celebrant carminibus antiquis, quod unum 
apud illos memoriae et annalium genus est, Tuisconem deum terra editum, et 
filium Mannum, originem gentis conditoresque." TACITUS{FNS, Germania, 
Cap. II. 



Canto V. Ayodhya. 37 

With circling moat, both deep and wide, 
And store of weapons fortified. 



King Dasaratha, lofty-souled, 
That city guarded and controlled, 
With towering Sal trees belted round, 65 
And many a grove and pleasure ground, 
As royal Indra, throned on high, 
Rules his fair city in the sky. 66 
She seems a painted city, fair 
With chess-board line and even square. 67 
And cool boughs shade the lovely lake 
Where weary men their thirst may slake. 
There gilded chariots gleam and shine, 
And stately piles the Gods enshrine. 
There gay sleek people ever throng 
To festival and dance and song. 
A mine is she of gems and sheen, 
The darling home of Fortune's Queen. 
With noblest sort of drink and meat, 
The fairest rice and golden wheat, 
And fragrant with the chaplet's scent 
With holy oil and incense blent. 
With many an elephant and steed, 
And wains for draught and cars for speed. 
With envoys sent by distant kings, 
And merchants with their precious things 
With banners o'er her roofs that play, 



65 The Sal (Shorea Robusta) is a valuable timber tree of considerable height. 

66 The city of Indra is called Amaravatf or Home of the Immortals. 

67 Schlegel thinks that this refers to the marble of different colours with which 
the houses were adorned. It seems more natural to understand it as implying 
the regularity of the streets and houses. 



38 The Ramayana 

And weapons that a hundred slay; 68 
All warlike engines framed by man, 
And every class of artisan. 
A city rich beyond compare 
With bards and minstrels gathered there, 
And men and damsels who entrance 
The soul with play and song and dance. 
In every street is heard the lute, 
The drum, the tabret, and the flute, 
The Veda chanted soft and low, 
The ringing of the archer's bow; 
With bands of godlike heroes skilled 
In every warlike weapon, filled, 
And kept by warriors from the foe, 
As Nagas guard their home below. 69 
There wisest Brahmans evermore 

The flame of worship feed, 
And versed in all the Vedas' lore, 

Their lives of virtue lead. 
Truthful and pure, they freely give; 

They keep each sense controlled, 
And in their holy fervour live 

Like the great saints of old. 



Canto VI. The King. 

68 The Sataghni i.e. centicide, or slayer of a hundred, is generally supposed to 
be a sort of fire-arms, or the ancient Indian rocket; but it is also described as a 
stone set round with iron spikes. 

69 The Nagas (serpents) are demigods with a human face and serpent body. 
They inhabit Patala or the regions under the earth. Bhogavatf is the name of 
their capital city. Serpents are still worshipped in India. See Fergusson's Tree 
and Serpent Worship. 



Canto VI. The King. 39 

There reigned a king of name revered, 

To country and to town endeared, 

Great Dasaratha, good and sage, 

Well read in Scripture's holy page: [013] 

Upon his kingdom's weal intent, 

Mighty and brave and provident; 

The pride of old Ikshvaku's seed 

For lofty thought and righteous deed. 

Peer of the saints, for virtues famed, 

For foes subdued and passions tamed: 

A rival in his wealth untold 

Of Indra and the Lord of Gold. 

Like Manu first of kings, he reigned, 

And worthily his state maintained. 

For firm and just and ever true 

Love, duty, gain he kept in view, 

And ruled his city rich and free, 

Like Indra's Amaravati. 

And worthy of so fair a place 

There dwelt a just and happy race 

With troops of children blest. 
Each man contented sought no more, 
Nor longed with envy for the store 

By richer friends possessed. 
For poverty was there unknown, 
And each man counted as his own 

Kine, steeds, and gold, and grain. 
All dressed in raiment bright and clean, 
And every townsman might be seen 

With earrings, wreath, or chain. 
None deigned to feed on broken fare, 
And none was false or stingy there. 
A piece of gold, the smallest pay, 
Was earned by labour for a day. 



40 The Ramayana 

On every arm were bracelets worn, 
And none was faithless or forsworn, 

A braggart or unkind. 
None lived upon another's wealth, 
None pined with dread or broken health, 

Or dark disease of mind. 
High-souled were all. The slanderous word, 
The boastful lie, were never heard. 
Each man was constant to his vows, 
And lived devoted to his spouse. 
No other love his fancy knew, 
And she was tender, kind, and true. 
Her dames were fair of form and face, 
With charm of wit and gentle grace, 
With modest raiment simply neat, 
And winning manners soft and sweet. 
The twice-born sages, whose delight 
Was Scripture's page and holy rite, 
Their calm and settled course pursued, 
Nor sought the menial multitude. 
In many a Scripture each was versed, 
And each the flame of worship nursed, 

And gave with lavish hand. 
Each paid to Heaven the offerings due, 
And none was godless or untrue 

In all that holy band. 
To Brahmans, as the laws ordain, 
The Warrior caste were ever fain 

The reverence due to pay; 
And these the Vaisyas' peaceful crowd, 
Who trade and toil for gain, were proud 

To honour and obey; 
And all were by the Sudras 70 served, 



70 The fourth and lowest pure caste whose duty was to serve the three first 



Canto VI. The King. 41 

Who never from their duty swerved, 
Their proper worship all addressed 
To Brahman, spirits, God, and guest. 
Pure and unmixt their rites remained, 
Their race's honour ne'er was stained. 71 
Cheered by his grandsons, sons, and wife, 
Each passed a long and happy life. 
Thus was that famous city held 
By one who all his race excelled, 

Blest in his gentle reign, 
As the whole land aforetime swayed 
By Manu, prince of men, obeyed 

Her king from main to main. 
And heroes kept her, strong and brave, 
As lions guard their mountain cave: 
Fierce as devouring flame they burned, 
And fought till death, but never turned. 
Horses had she of noblest breed, 
Like Indra's for their form and speed, 
From Vahlfs 72 hills and Sindhu's 73 sand, 



classes. 

71 By forbidden marriages between persons of different castes. 

72 Vahlf or Vahlfka is Bactriana; its name is preserved in the modern Balkh. 

73 The Sanskrit word Sindhu is in the singular the name of the river Indus, in 
the plural of the people and territories on its banks. The name appears as Hidku 
in the cuneiform inscription of Darius' son of Hystaspes, in which the nations 
tributary to that king are enumerated. 

The Hebrew form is Hodda (Esther, I. 1.). In Zend it appears as Hendu 
in a somewhat wider sense. With the Persians later the signification of Hind 
seems to have co-extended with their increasing acquaintance with the country. 
The weak Ionic dialect omitted the Persian h, and we find in Hecataeus and 
Herodotus "IvSoc. and r| 'IvSiKrj. In this form the Romans received the names 
and transmitted them to us. The Arabian geographers in their ignorance that 
Hind and Sind are two forms of the same word have made of them two brothers 
and traced their decent from Noah. See Lassen's Indische Alterthumskunde 
Vol. I. pp. 2, 3. 



42 The Ramayana 

[014] Vanayu 74 and Kamboja's land. 75 

Her noble elephants had strayed 
Through Vindhyan and Himalayan shade, 
Gigantic in their bulk and height, 
Yet gentle in their matchless might. 
They rivalled well the world-spread fame 
Of the great stock from which they came, 

Of Vaman, vast of size, 
Of Mahapadma's glorious line, 
Thine, Anjan, and, Airavat, thine. 76 

Upholders of the skies. 
With those, enrolled in fourfold class, 
Who all their mighty kin surpass, 

Whom men Matangas name, 
And Mrigas spotted black and white, 
And Bhadras of unwearied might, 
And Mandras hard to tame. 77 
Thus, worthy of the name she bore, 78 
Ayodhya for a league or more 

Cast a bright glory round, 
Where Dasaratha wise and great 



74 The situation of Vanayu is not exactly determined: it seems to have lain to 
the north-west of India. 

75 Kamboja was probably still further to the north-west. Lassen thinks that 
the name is etymologically connected with Cambyses which in the cuneiform 
inscription of Behistun is written Ka(m)bujia. 

76 The elephants of Indra and other deities who preside over the four points of 
the compass. 

' "There are four kinds of elephants. 1 Bhaddar. It is well proportioned, has 
an erect head, a broad chest, large ears, a long tail, and is bold and can bear 
fatigue. 2 Mand. It is black, has yellow eyes, a uniformly sized body, and is 
wild and ungovernable. 3 Mirg. It has a whitish skin, with black spots. 4 Mir. 
It has a small head, and obeys readily. It gets frightened when it thunders." 
Ain-i-Akbar(.. Translated by H. Blochmann, Am 41, The Imperial Elephant 
Stables. 
78 Ayodhya means not to be fought against. 



Canto VII. The Ministers. 43 

Governed his fair ancestral state, 

With every virtue crowned. 
Like Indra in the skies he reigned 
In that good town whose wall contained 

High domes and turrets proud, 
With gates and arcs of triumph decked, 
And sturdy barriers to protect 

Her gay and countless crowd. 



Canto VII. The Ministers. 



Two sages, holy saints, had he, 
His ministers and priests to be: 
Vasishtha, faithful to advise, 
And Vamadeva, Scripture-wise. 
Eight other lords around him stood, 
All skilled to counsel, wise and good: 
Jayanta, Vijay, Dhrishti bold 
In fight, affairs of war controlled: 
Siddharth and Arthasadhak true 
Watched o'er expense and revenue, 
And Dharmapal and wise Asok 
Of right and law and justice spoke. 
With these the sage Sumantra, skilled 
To urge the car, high station filled. 

All these in knowledge duly trained 
Each passion and each sense restrained: 
With modest manners, nobly bred 
Each plan and nod and look they read, 
Upon their neighbours' good intent, 
Most active and benevolent: 



44 The Ramayana 

As sit the Vasus 79 round their king, 
They sate around him counselling. 
They ne'er in virtue's loftier pride 
Another's lowly gifts decried. 
In fair and seemly garb arrayed, 
No weak uncertain plans they made. 
Well skilled in business, fair and just, 
They gained the people's love and trust, 
And thus without oppression stored 
The swelling treasury of their lord. 
Bound in sweet friendship each to each, 
They spoke kind thoughts in gentle speech. 
They looked alike with equal eye 
On every caste, on low and high. 
Devoted to their king, they sought, 
Ere his tongue spoke, to learn his thought, 
And knew, as each occasion rose, 
To hide their counsel or disclose. 
In foreign lands or in their own 
Whatever passed, to them was known. 
By secret spies they timely knew 
What men were doing or would do. 
Skilled in the grounds of war and peace 
They saw the monarch's state increase, 
Watching his weal with conquering eye 
That never let occasion by, 
While nature lent her aid to bless 
Their labours with unbought success. 
Never for anger, lust, or gain, 
Would they their lips with falsehood stain. 
Inclined to mercy they could scan 
The weakness and the strength of man. 



79 Attendants of Indra, eight Gods whose names signify fire, light and its 
phenomena. 



Canto VIII. Sumantra's Speech. 45 

They fairly judged both high and low, 

And ne'er would wrong a guiltless foe; 

Yet if a fault were proved, each one 

Would punish e'en his own dear son. 

But there and in the kingdom's bound 

No thief or man impure was found: 

None of loose life or evil fame, 

No tempter of another's dame. 

Contented with their lot each caste [015] 

Calm days in blissful quiet passed; 

And, all in fitting tasks employed, 

Country and town deep rest enjoyed, 

With these wise lords around his throne 

The monarch justly reigned, 
And making every heart his own 

The love of all men gained. 
With trusty agents, as beseems, 

Each distant realm he scanned, 
As the sun visits with his beams 

Each corner of the land. 
Ne'er would he on a mightier foe 

With hostile troops advance, 
Nor at an equal strike a blow 

In war's delusive chance. 
These lords in council bore their part 
With ready brain and faithful heart, 
With skill and knowledge, sense and tact, 
Good to advise and bold to act. 
And high and endless fame he won 

With these to guide his schemes, 
As, risen in his might, the sun 

Wins glory with his beams. 



46 The Ramayana 

Canto VIII. Sumantra's Speech. 



But splendid, just, and great of mind, 
The childless king for offspring pined. 
No son had he his name to grace, 
Transmitter of his royal race. 
Long had his anxious bosom wrought, 
And as he pondered rose the thought: 
"A votive steed 'twere good to slay, 
So might a son the gift repay." 
Before his lords his plan he laid, 
And bade them with their wisdom aid: 
Then with these words Sumantra, best 
Of royal counsellors, addressed: 
"Hither, Vasishtha at their head, 
Let all my priestly guides be led." 

To him Sumantra made reply: 
"Hear, Sire, a tale of days gone by. 
To many a sage in time of old, 
Sanatkumar, the saint, foretold 
How from thine ancient line, O King, 
A son, when years came round, should spring. 
"Here dwells," 'twas thus the seer began, 
"Of Kasyap's 80 race, a holy man, 
Vibhandak named: to him shall spring 
A son, the famous Rishyasring. 
Bred with the deer that round him roam, 
The wood shall be that hermit's home. 
To him no mortal shall be known 
Except his holy sire alone. 
Still by those laws shall he abide 



80 Kasyap was a grandson of the God Brahma. He is supposed to have given 
his name to Kashmir = Kasyapa-mfra, Kasyap's Lake. 



Canto VIII. Sumantra's Speech. 47 

Which lives of youthful Brahmans guide, 
Obedient to the strictest rule 
That forms the young ascetic's school: 
And all the wondering world shall hear 
Of his stern life and penance drear; 
His care to nurse the holy fire 
And do the bidding of his sire. 
Then, seated on the Angas' 81 throne, 

Shall Lomapad to fame be known. 

But folly wrought by that great king 

A plague upon the land shall bring; 

No rain for many a year shall fall 

And grievous drought shall ruin all. 

The troubled king with many a prayer 

Shall bid the priests some cure declare: 

"The lore of Heaven 'tis yours to know, 

Nor are ye blind to things below: 

Declare, O holy men, the way 

This plague to expiate and stay." 

Those best of Brahmans shall reply: 

"By every art, O Monarch, try 

Hither to bring Vibhandak's child, 

Persuaded, captured, or beguiled. 

And when the boy is hither led 

To him thy daughter duly wed." 



81 The people of Anga. "Anga is said in the lexicons to be Bengal; but here 
certainly another region is intended situated at the confluence of the Sarjii with 
the Ganges, and not far distant from Dasaratha's dominions." GORRESIO{FNS. 
It comprised part of Behar and Bhagulpur. 



48 The Ramayana 

But how to bring that wondrous boy 
His troubled thoughts will long employ, 
And hopeless to achieve the task 
He counsel of his lords will ask, 
And bid his priests and servants bring 
With honour saintly Rishyasring. 
But when they hear the monarch's speech, 
All these their master will beseech, 
With trembling hearts and looks of woe, 
To spare them, for they fear to go. 
And many a plan will they declare 

And crafty plots will frame, 
And promise fair to show him there, 

Unforced, with none to blame. 
On every word his lords shall say, 

The king will meditate, 
And on the third returning day 

Recall them to debate. 
Then this shall be the plan agreed, 

That damsels shall be sent 
Attired in holy hermits' weed, 

And skilled in blandishment, 
That they the hermit may beguile 
[016] With every art and amorous wile 

Whose use they know so well, 
And by their witcheries seduce 
The unsuspecting young recluse 

To leave his father's cell. 
Then when the boy with willing feet 
Shall wander from his calm retreat 

And in that city stand, 
The troubles of the king shall end, 
And streams of blessed rain descend 

Upon the thirsty land. 



Canto IX. Rishyasring. 49 

Thus shall the holy Rishyasring 
To Lomapad, the mighty king, 

By wedlock be allied; 
For Santa, fairest of the fair, 
In mind and grace beyond compare, 

Shall be his royal bride. 
He, at the Offering of the Steed, 
The flames with holy oil shall feed, 
And for King Dasaratha gain 
Sons whom his prayers have begged in vain." 
"I have repeated, Sire, thus far, 
The words of old Sanatkumar, 
In order as he spoke them then 
Amid the crowd of holy men." 

Then Dasaratha cried with joy, 
"Say how they brought the hermit boy." 



Canto IX. Rishyasring. 

The wise Sumantra, thus addressed, 

Unfolded at the king's behest 

The plan the lords in council laid 

To draw the hermit from the shade: 

"The priest, amid the lordly crowd, 

To Lomapad thus spoke aloud: 

"Hear, King, the plot our thoughts have framed, 

A harmless trick by all unblamed. 

Far from the world that hermit's child 

Lives lonely in the distant wild: 

A stranger to the joys of sense, 

His bliss is pain and abstinence; 



50 The Ramayana 

And all unknown are women yet 
To him, a holy anchoret. 
The gentle passions we will wake 
That with resistless influence shake 

The hearts of men; and he 
Drawn by enchantment strong and sweet 
Shall follow from his lone retreat, 

And come and visit thee. 
Let ships be formed with utmost care 
That artificial trees may bear, 

And sweet fruit deftly made; 
Let goodly raiment, rich and rare, 
And flowers, and many a bird be there 

Beneath the leafy shade. 
Upon the ships thus decked a band 
Of young and lovely girls shall stand, 
Rich in each charm that wakes desire, 
And eyes that burn with amorous fire; 
Well skilled to sing, and play, and dance 
And ply their trade with smile and glance 
Let these, attired in hermits' dress, 
Betake them to the wilderness, 
And bring the boy of life austere 
A voluntary captive here." 

He ended; and the king agreed, 

By the priest's counsel won. 
And all the ministers took heed 

To see his bidding done. 
In ships with wondrous art prepared 
Away the lovely women fared, 
And soon beneath the shade they stood 
Of the wild, lonely, dreary wood. 
And there the leafy cot they found 

Where dwelt the devotee, 



Canto IX. Rishyasring. 51 

And looked with eager eyes around 

The hermit's son to see. 
Still, of Vibhandak sore afraid, 
They hid behind the creepers' shade. 
But when by careful watch they knew 
The elder saint was far from view, 
With bolder steps they ventured nigh 
To catch the youthful hermit's eye. 
Then all the damsels, blithe and gay, 
At various games began to play. 
They tossed the flying ball about 
With dance and song and merry shout, 
And moved, their scented tresses bound 
With wreaths, in mazy motion round. 
Some girls as if by love possessed, 
Sank to the earth in feigned unrest, 
Up starting quickly to pursue 
Their intermitted game anew. 
It was a lovely sight to see 

Those fair ones, as they played, 
While fragrant robes were floating free, 
And bracelets clashing in their glee 

A pleasant tinkling made. 
The anklet's chime, the Koil's 82 cry 

With music filled the place 
As 'twere some city in the sky 
Which heavenly minstrels grace. 
With each voluptuous art they strove 
To win the tenant of the grove, 
And with their graceful forms inspire 



82 The Koi'l or kokila (Cuculus Indicus) as the harbinger of spring and love is 
a universal favourite with Indian poets. His voice when first heard in a glorious 
spring morning is not unpleasant, but becomes in the hot season intolerably 
wearisome to European ears. 



52 The Ramayana 

His modest soul with soft desire. 
With arch of brow, with beck and smile, 
[017] With every passion-waking wile 

Of glance and lotus hand, 
With all enticements that excite 
The longing for unknown delight 

Which boys in vain withstand. 
Forth came the hermit's son to view 
The wondrous sight to him so new, 

And gazed in rapt surprise, 
For from his natal hour till then 
On woman or the sons of men 

He ne'er had cast his eyes. 
He saw them with their waists so slim, 
With fairest shape and faultless limb, 
In variegated robes arrayed, 
And sweetly singing as they played. 
Near and more near the hermit drew, 

And watched them at their game, 
And stronger still the impulse grew 

To question whence they came. 
They marked the young ascetic gaze 
With curious eye and wild amaze, 
And sweet the long-eyed damsels sang, 
And shrill their merry laughter rang. 
Then came they nearer to his side, 
And languishing with passion cried: 
"Whose son, O youth, and who art thou, 
Come suddenly to join us now? 
And why dost thou all lonely dwell 
In the wild wood? We pray thee, tell, 
We wish to know thee, gentle youth; 
Come, tell us, if thou wilt, the truth." 

He gazed upon that sight he ne'er 



Canto IX. Rishyasring. 53 

Had seen before, of girls so fair, 
And out of love a longing rose 
His sire and lineage to disclose: 
"My father," thus he made reply, 
"Is Kasyap's son, a saint most high, 
Vibhandak styled; from him I came, 
And Rishyasring he calls my name. 
Our hermit cot is near this place: 
Come thither, O ye fair of face; 
There be it mine, with honour due, 
Ye gentle youths, to welcome you." 

They heard his speech, and gave consent, 
And gladly to his cottage went. 
Vibhandak's son received them well 
Beneath the shelter of his cell 
With guest-gift, water for their feet, 
And woodland fruit and roots to eat, 
They smiled, and spoke sweet words like these, 
Delighted with his courtesies: 
"We too have goodly fruit in store, 
Grown on the trees that shade our door; 
Come, if thou wilt, kind Hermit, haste 
The produce of our grove to taste; 
And let, O good Ascetic, first 
This holy water quench thy thirst." 
They spoke, and gave him comfits sweet 
Prepared ripe fruits to counterfeit; 
And many a dainty cate beside 
And luscious mead their stores supplied. 
The seeming fruits, in taste and look, 
The unsuspecting hermit took, 
For, strange to him, their form beguiled 
The dweller in the lonely wild. 
Then round his neck fair arms were flung, 



54 The Ramayana 

And there the laughing damsels clung, 
And pressing nearer and more near 
With sweet lips whispered at his ear; 
While rounded limb and swelling breast 
The youthful hermit softly pressed. 
The pleasing charm of that strange bowl, 

The touch of a tender limb, 
Over his yielding spirit stole 

And sweetly vanquished him. 
But vows, they said, must now be paid; 

They bade the boy farewell, 
And, of the aged saint afraid, 

Prepared to leave the dell. 
With ready guile they told him where 

Their hermit dwelling lay: 
Then, lest the sire should find them there, 

Sped by wild paths away. 
They fled and left him there alone 

By longing love possessed; 
And with a heart no more his own 

He roamed about distressed. 
The aged saint came home, to find 

The hermit boy distraught, 
Revolving in his troubled mind 

One solitary thought. 
"Why dost thou not, my son," he cried, 

"Thy due obeisance pay? 
Why do I see thee in the tide 

Of whelming thought to-day? 
A devotee should never wear 

A mien so sad and strange. 
Come, quickly, dearest child, declare 

The reason of the change." 
And Rishyasring, when questioned thus, 



Canto IX. Rishyasring. 55 

Made answer in this wise: 
"O sire, there came to visit us 

Some men with lovely eyes. 
About my neck soft arms they wound 

And kept me tightly held 
To tender breasts so soft and round, 

That strangely heaved and swelled. 
They sing more sweetly as they dance 

Than e'er I heard till now, 
And play with many a sidelong glance 

And arching of the brow." 
"My son," said he, "thus giants roam 

Where holy hermits are, 
And wander round their peaceful home 

Their rites austere to mar. 
I charge thee, thou must never lay 

Thy trust in them, dear boy: 
They seek thee only to betray, 

And woo but to destroy." 
Thus having warned him of his foes 

That night at home he spent. 
And when the morrow's sun arose [018] 

Forth to the forest went. 

But Rishyasring with eager pace 
Sped forth and hurried to the place 
Where he those visitants had seen 
Of daintly waist and charming mien. 
When from afar they saw the son 
Of Saint Vibhandak toward them run, 
To meet the hermit boy they hied, 
And hailed him with a smile, and cried: 
"O come, we pray, dear lord, behold 
Our lovely home of which we told 
Due honour there to thee we'll pay, 



56 The Ramayana 

And speed thee on thy homeward way." 
Pleased with the gracious words they said 
He followed where the damsels led. 
As with his guides his steps he bent, 

That Brahman high of worth, 
A flood of rain from heaven was sent 

That gladdened all the earth. 

Vibhandak took his homeward road, 
And wearied by the heavy load 
Of roots and woodland fruit he bore 
Entered at last his cottage door. 
Fain for his son he looked around, 
But desolate the cell he found. 
He stayed not then to bathe his feet, 
Though fainting with the toil and heat, 
But hurried forth and roamed about 
Calling the boy with cry and shout, 
He searched the wood, but all in vain; 
Nor tidings of his son could gain. 

One day beyond the forest's bound 
The wandering saint a village found, 
And asked the swains and neatherds there 
Who owned the land so rich and fair, 
With all the hamlets of the plain, 
And herds of kine and fields of grain. 
They listened to the hermit's words, 
And all the guardians of the herds, 
With suppliant hands together pressed, 
This answer to the saint addressed: 
"The Angas' lord who bears the name 
Of Lomapad, renowned by fame, 
Bestowed these hamlets with their kine 



Canto IX. Rishyasring. 57 

And all their riches, as a sign 
Of grace, on Rishyasring: and he 
Vibhandak's son is said to be." 
The hermit with exulting breast 
The mighty will of fate confessed, 
By meditation's eye discerned; 
And cheerful to his home returned. 

A stately ship, at early morn, 
The hermit's son away had borne. 
Loud roared the clouds, as on he sped, 
The sky grew blacker overhead; 
Till, as he reached the royal town, 
A mighty flood of rain came down. 
By the great rain the monarch's mind 
The coming of his guest divined. 
To meet the honoured youth he went, 
And low to earth his head he bent. 
With his own priest to lead the train, 
He gave the gift high guests obtain. 
And sought, with all who dwelt within 
The city walls, his grace to win. 
He fed him with the daintiest fare, 
He served him with unceasing care, 
And ministered with anxious eyes 
Lest anger in his breast should rise; 
And gave to be the Brahman's bride 
His own fair daughter, lotus-eyed. 

Thus loved and honoured by the king, 
The glorious Brahman Rishyasring 
Passed in that royal town his life 
With Santa his beloved wife." 



58 The Ramayana 

Canto X. Rishyasring Invited. 



"Again, O best of kings, give ear: 
My saving words attentive hear, 
And listen to the tale of old 
By that illustrious Brahman told. 
"Of famed Ikshvaku's line shall spring 
(Twas thus he spoke) a pious king, 
Named Dasaratha, good and great, 
True to his word and fortunate. 
He with the Angas' mighty lord 
Shall ever live in sweet accord, 
And his a daughter fair shall be, 
Santa of happy destiny. 
But Lomapad, the Angas' chief, 
Still pining in his childless grief, 
To Dasaratha thus shall say: 
"Give me thy daughter, friend, I pray, 
Thy Santa of the tranquil mind, 
The noblest one of womankind." 

The father, swift to feel for woe, 
Shall on his friend his child bestow; 
And he shall take her and depart 
To his own town with joyous heart. 
The maiden home in triumph led, 
To Rishyasring the king shall wed. 
And he with loving joy and pride 
Shall take her for his honoured bride. 
And Dasaratha to a rite 
That best of Brahmans shall invite 

With supplicating prayer, 
To celebrate the sacrifice 



Canto X. Rishyasring Invited. 59 

To win him sons and Paradise, 83 

That he will fain prepare. [019] 

From him the lord of men at length 

The boon he seeks shall gain, 
And see four sons of boundless strength 

His royal line maintain." 
"Thus did the godlike saint of old 

The will of fate declare, 
And all that should befall unfold 

Amid the sages there. 
O Prince supreme of men, go thou, 

Consult thy holy guide, 
And win, to aid thee in thy vow, 

This Brahman to thy side." 
Sumantra's counsel, wise and good, 

King Dasaratha heard, 
Then by Vasishtha's side he stood 
And thus with him conferred: 
"Sumantra counsels thus: do thou 
My priestly guide, the plan allow." 

Vasishtha gave his glad consent, 
And forth the happy monarch went 
With lords and servants on the road 
That led to Rishyasring's abode. 
Forests and rivers duly past, 
He reached the distant town at last 
Of Lomapad the Angas' king, 
And entered it with welcoming. 
On through the crowded streets he came, 
And, radiant as the kindled flame, 



83 "Sons and Paradise are intimately connected in Indian belief. A man desires 
above every thing to have a son to perpetuate his race, and to assist with 
sacrifices and funeral rites to make him worthy to obtain a lofty seat in heaven 
or to preserve that which he has already obtained." GORRESIO{FNS. 



60 The Ramayana 

He saw within the monarch's house 
The hermit's son most glorious. 
There Lomapad, with joyful breast, 

To him all honour paid, 
For friendship for his royal guest 

His faithful bosom swayed. 
Thus entertained with utmost care 
Seven days, or eight, he tarried there, 
And then that best of men thus broke 
His purpose to the king, and spoke: 
"O King of men, mine ancient friend, 

(Thus Dasaratha prayed) 
Thy Santa with her husband send 

My sacrifice to aid." 
Said he who ruled the Angas, Yea, 

And his consent was won: 
And then at once he turned away 

To warn the hermit's son. 
He told him of their ties beyond 
Their old affection's faithful bond: 
"This king," he said, "from days of old 
A well beloved friend I hold. 
To me this pearl of dames he gave 
From childless woe mine age to save, 
The daughter whom he loved so much, 
Moved by compassion's gentle touch. 
In him thy Santas father see: 
As I am even so is he. 
For sons the childless monarch yearns: 
To thee alone for help he turns. 
Go thou, the sacred rite ordain 
To win the sons he prays to gain: 
Go, with thy wife thy succour lend, 
And give his vows a blissful end." 



Canto X. Rishyasring Invited. 61 

The hermit's son with quick accord 
Obeyed the Angas' mighty lord, 
And with fair Santa at his side 
To Dasaratha's city hied. 
Each king, with suppliant hands upheld, 

Gazed on the other's face: 
And then by mutual love impelled 

Met in a close embrace. 
Then Dasaratha's thoughtful care, 

Before he parted thence, 
Bade trusty servants homeward bear 

The glad intelligence: 
"Let all the town be bright and gay 

With burning incense sweet; 
Let banners wave, and water lay 

The dust in every street." 
Glad were the citizens to learn 
The tidings of their lord's return, 
And through the city every man 
Obediently his task began. 
And fair and bright Ayodhya showed, 
As following his guest he rode 
Through the full streets where shell and drum 
Proclaimed aloud the king was come. 
And all the people with delight 

Kept gazing on their king, 
Attended by that youth so bright, 

The glorious Rishyasring. 
When to his home the king had brought 

The hermit's saintly son, 
He deemed that all his task was wrought, 

And all he prayed for won. 
And lords who saw that stranger dame 

So beautiful to view, 



62 The Ramayana 

Rejoiced within their hearts, and came 

And paid her honour too. 
There Rishyasring passed blissful days, 
Graced like the king with love and praise 
And shone in glorious light with her, 
Sweet Santa, for his minister, 
As Brahma's son Vasishtha, he 
Who wedded Saint Arundhati. 84 



Canto XI. The Sacrifice Decreed. 

The Dewy Season 85 came and went; 

The spring returned again: 
Then would the king, with mind intent, 
[020] His sacrifice ordain. 

He came to Rishyasring, and bowed 

To him of look divine, 
And bade him aid his offering vowed 

For heirs, to save his line. 
Nor would the youth his aid deny: 

He spake the monarch fair, 
And prayed him for that rite so high 

All requisites prepare. 
The king to wise Sumantra cried 

Who stood aye ready near; 
"Go summon quick each holy guide, 

To counsel and to hear." 



84 One of the Pleiades and generally regarded as the model of wifely excel- 
lence. 

85 The Hindu year is divided into six seasons of two months each, spring, 
summer, rains, autumn, winter, and dews. 



Canto XI. The Sacrifice Decreed. 63 

Obedient to his lord's behest 

Away Sumantra sped, 
And brought Vasishtha and the rest, 

In Scripture deeply read. 
Suyajna, Vamadeva came, 

Javali, Kasyap's son, 
And old Vasishtha, dear to fame, 

Obedient every one. 
King Dasaratha met them there 

And duly honoured each, 
And spoke in pleasant words his fair 

And salutary speech: 
"In childless longing doomed to pine, 
No happiness, O lords, is mine. 
So have I for this cause decreed 
To slay the sacrificial steed. 
Fain would I pay that offering high 
Wherein the horse is doomed to die, 
With Rishyasring his aid to lend, 
And with your glory to befriend." 

With loud applause each holy man 
Received his speech, approved the plan, 
And, by the wise Vasishtha led, 
Gave praises to the king, and said: 
"The sons thou cravest shalt thou see, 
Of fairest glory, born to thee, 
Whose holy feelings bid thee take 
This righteous course for offspring's sake." 
Cheered by the ready praise of those 
Whose aid he sought, his spirits rose, 
And thus the king his speech renewed 
With looks of joy and gratitude: 
"Let what the coming rites require 
Be ready as the priests desire, 



64 The Ramayana 

And let the horse, ordained to bleed, 

With fitting guard and priest, be freed, 86 

Yonder on Sarju's northern side 

The sacrificial ground provide; 

And let the saving rites, that naught 

Ill-omened may occur, be wrought. 

The offering I announce to-day 

Each lord of earth may claim to pay, 

Provided that his care can guard 

The holy rite by flaws unmarred. 

For wandering fiends, whose watchful spite 

Waits eagerly to spoil each rite, 

Hunting with keenest eye detect 

The slightest slip, the least neglect; 

And when the sacred work is crossed 

The workman is that moment lost. 

Let preparation due be made: 

Your powers the charge can meet: 
That so the noble rite be paid 

In every point complete." 
And all the Brahmans answered, Yea, 

His mandate honouring, 
And gladly promised to obey 

The order of the king. 
They cried with voices raised aloud: 

"Success attend thine aim!" 
Then bade farewell, and lowly bowed, 

And hastened whence they came. 
King Dasaratha went within, 

His well loved wives to see: 
And said: "Your lustral rites begin, 



86 It was essential that the horse should wander free for a year before immo- 
lation, as a sign that his master's paramount sovereignty was acknowledged by 
all neighbouring princes. 



Canto XII. The Sacrifice Begun. 65 

For these shall prosper me. 
A glorious offering I prepare 
That precious fruit of sons may bear." 
Their lily faces brightened fast 

Those pleasant words to hear, 
As lilies, when the winter's past, 
In lovelier hues appear. 



Canto XII. The Sacrifice Begun. 

Again the spring with genial heat 
Returning made the year complete. 
To win him sons, without delay 
His vow the king resolved to pay: 
And to Vasishtha, saintly man, 
In modest words this speech began: 
"Prepare the rite with all things fit 
As is ordained in Holy Writ, 
And keep with utmost care afar 
Whate'er its sacred forms might mar. 
Thou art, my lord, my trustiest guide, 
Kind-hearted, and my friend beside; 
So is it meet thou undertake 
This heavy task for duty's sake." 

Then he, of twice-born men the best, 
His glad assent at once expressed: 
"Fain will I do whate'er may be 
Desired, O honoured King, by thee." 
To ancient priests he spoke, who, trained 
In holy rites, deep skill had gained: 
"Here guards be stationed, good and sage 



66 The Ramayana 

Religious men of trusted age. 
And various workmen send and call, 
Who frame the door and build the wall: 
With men of every art and trade, 
[021] Who read the stars and ply the spade, 

And mimes and minstrels hither bring, 
And damsels trained to dance and sing." 

Then to the learned men he said, 
In many a page of Scripture read: 
"Be yours each rite performed to see 
According to the king's decree. 
And stranger Brahmans quickly call 
To this great rite that welcomes all. 
Pavilions for the princes, decked 
With art and ornament, erect, 
And handsome booths by thousands made 
The Brahman visitors to shade, 
Arranged in order side by side, 
With meat and drink and all supplied. 
And ample stables we shall need 
For many an elephant and steed: 
And chambers where the men may lie, 
And vast apartments, broad and high, 
Fit to receive the countless bands 
Of warriors come from distant lands. 
For our own people too provide 
Sufficient tents, extended wide, 
And stores of meat and drink prepare, 
And all that can be needed there. 
And food in plenty must be found 
For guests from all the country round. 
Of various viands presents make, 
For honour, not for pity's sake, 
That fit regard and worship be 



Canto XII. The Sacrifice Begun. 67 

Paid to each caste in due degree. 
And let not wish or wrath excite 
Your hearts the meanest guest to slight; 
But still observe with special grace 
Those who obtain the foremost place, 
Whether for happier skill in art 
Or bearing in the rite their part. 
Do you, I pray, with friendly mind 
Perform the task to you assigned, 
And work the rite, as bids the law, 
Without omission, slip, or flaw" 

They answered: "As thou seest fit 
So will we do and naught omit." 
The sage Vasistha then addressed 
Sumantra called at his behest: 
"The princes of the earth invite, 
And famous lords who guard the rite, 
Priest, Warrior, Merchant, lowly thrall, 
In countless thousands summon all. 
Where'er their home be, far or near, 
Gather the good with honour here, 
And Janak, whose imperial sway 
The men of Mfthila 87 obey. 
The firm of vow, the dread of foes, 
Who all the lore of Scripture knows, 
Invite him here with honour high, 
King Dasaratha's old ally. 
And Kasi's 88 lord of gentle speech, 
Who finds a pleasant word for each, 



87 Called also Vidcha, later Tirabhukti, corrupted into the modern Tirhut, a 
province bounded on the west and east by the Gaudakf and Kausikf rivers, on 
the south by the Ganges, and on the north by the skirts of the Himalayas. 

88 The celebrated city of Benares. See Dr. Hall's learned and exhaustive 
Monograph in the Sacred City of the Hindus, by the Rev. M. A. Sherring. 



The Ramayana 



In length of days our monarch's peer, 
Illustrious king, invite him here. 
The father of our ruler's bride, 
Known for his virtues far and wide, 
The king whom Kekaya's 89 realms obey, 
Him with his son invite, I pray. 
And Lomapad the Angas' king, 
True to his vows and godlike, bring. 
For be thine invitations sent 
To west and south and orient. 
Call those who rule Surashtra's 90 land, 
Suvfra's 91 realm and Sindhu's strand, 
And all the kings of earth beside 
In friendship's bonds with us allied: 
Invite them all to hasten in 
With retinue and kith and kin." 

Vasishtha's speech without delay 
Sumantra bent him to obey. 
And sent his trusty envoys forth 
Eastward and westward, south and north. 
Obedient to the saint's request 
Himself he hurried forth, and pressed 
Each nobler chief and lord and king 
To hasten to the gathering. 
Before the saint Vasishtha stood 
All those who wrought with stone and wood, 
And showed the work which every one 
In furtherance of the rite had done, 
Rejoiced their ready zeal to see, 
Thus to the craftsmen all said he: 



89 Kekaya is supposed to have been in the Panjab. The name of the king was 
Asvapati (Lord of Horses), father of Dasaratha's wife Kaikeyi. 

90 Sural. 

91 Apparently in the west of India not far from the Indus. 



Canto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished. 69 

"I charge ye, masters, see to this, 
That there be nothing done amiss, 
And this, I pray, in mind be borne, 
That not one gift ye give in scorn: 
Whenever scorn a gift attends 
Great sin is his who thus offends." 

And now some days and nights had past, 
And kings began to gather fast, 
And precious gems in liberal store 
As gifts to Dasaratha bore. 
Then joy thrilled through Vasishtha's breast 
As thus the monarch he addressed: 
"Obedient to thy high decree 

The kings, my lord, are come to thee. [022] 

And it has been my care to greet 
And honour all with reverence meet. 
Thy servants' task is ended quite, 
And all is ready for the rite. 
Come forth then to the sacred ground 
Where all in order will be found." 
Then Rishyasring confirmed the tale: 
Nor did their words to move him fail. 
The stars propitious influence lent 
When forth the world's great ruler went. 

Then by the sage Vasishtha led 
The priest begun to speed 

Those glorious rites wherein is shed 
The lifeblood of the steed. 



Canto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished. 



70 The Ramayana 

The circling year had filled its course, 

And back was brought the wandering horse: 

Then upon Sarju's northern strand 

Began the rite the king had planned. 

With Rishyasring the forms to guide, 

The Brahmans to their task applied, 

At that great offering of the steed 

Their lofty-minded king decreed. 

The priests, who all the Scripture knew, 

Performed their part in order due, 

And circled round in solemn train 

As precepts of the law ordain. 

Pravargya rites 92 were duly sped: 

For Upasads 93 the flames were fed. 

Then from the plant 94 the juice was squeezed, 

And those high saints with minds well pleased 

Performed the mystic rites begun 

With bathing ere the rise of sun 

They gave the portion Indra's claim, 

And hymned the King whom none can blame. 

The mid-day bathing followed next, 

Observed as bids the holy text. 

Then the good priests with utmost care, 

In form that Scripture's rules declare, 



92 "The Pravargya ceremony lasts for three days, and is always performed 
twice a day, in the forenoon and afternoon. It precedes the animal and Soma 
sacrifices. For without having undergone it, no one is allowed to take part in 
the solemn Soma feast prepared for the gods." Haug's Aitareya Brdhmanam. 
Vol. II. p. 41. note q.v. 

93 Upasads. "The Gods said, Let us perform the burnt offerings called Upasads 
(i.e. besieging). For by means of an Upasad, i.e. besieging, they conquer a 
large (fortified) town." — Ibid. p. 32. 

94 The Soma plant, or Asclepias Acida. Its fermented juice was drunk in 
sacrifice by the priests and offered to the Gods who enjoyed the intoxicating 
draught. 



Canto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished. 71 

For the third time pure water shed 

On high souled Dasaratha's head. 

Then Rishyasring and all the rest 

To Indra and the Gods addressed 

Their sweet-toned hymn of praise and prayer, 

And called them in the rite to share. 

With sweetest song and hymn entoned 

They gave the Gods in heaven enthroned, 

As duty bids, the gifts they claim, 

The holy oil that feeds the flame. 

And many an offering there was paid, 

And not one slip in all was made. 

For with most careful heed they saw 

That all was done by Veda law. 

None, all those days, was seen oppressed 

By hunger or by toil distressed. 

Why speak of human kind? No beast 

Was there that lacked an ample feast. 

For there was store for all who came, 

For orphan child and lonely dame; 

The old and young were well supplied, 

The poor and hungry satisfied. 

Throughout the day ascetics fed, 

And those who roam to beg their bread: 

While all around the cry was still, 

"Give forth, give forth," and "Eat your fill." 

"Give forth with liberal hand the meal, 

And various robes in largess deal." 

Urged by these cries on every side 

Unweariedly their task they plied: 

And heaps of food like hills in size 

In boundless plenty met the eyes: 

And lakes of sauce, each day renewed, 

Refreshed the weary multitude. 



72 The Ramayana 

And strangers there from distant lands, 
And women folk in crowded bands 
The best of food and drink obtained 
At the great rite the king ordained. 
Apart from all, the Brahmans there, 
Thousands on thousands, took their share 
Of various dainties sweet to taste, 
On plates of gold and silver placed, 
All ready set, as, when they willed, 
The twice-born men their places filled. 
And servants in fair garments dressed 
Waited upon each Brahman guest. 
Of cheerful mind and mien were they, 
With gold and jewelled earrings gay. 
The best of Brahmans praised the fare 
Of countless sorts, of flavour rare: 
And thus to Raghu's son they cried: 
"We bless thee, and are satisfied." 
Between the rites some Brahmans spent 
[023] The time in learned argument, 

With ready flow of speech, sedate, 
And keen to vanquish in debate. 95 
There day by day the holy train 
Performed all rites as rules ordain. 
No priest in all that host was found 



95 "Turn in c£erimoniarum intervallis Brachmanae facundi, sollertes, crebros 
sermones de rerum causis instituebant, alter alterum vincendi cupidi. This 
public disputation in the assembly of Brahmans on the nature of things, and the 
almost fraternal connexion between theology and philosophy deserves some 
notice; whereas the priests of some religions are generally but little inclined 
to show favour to philosophers, nay, sometimes persecute them with the most 
rancorous hatred, as we are taught both by history and experience.... This 
sloka is found in the MSS. of different recensions of the Ramayan, and we 
have, therefore, the most trustworthy testimony to the antiquity of philosophy 
among the Indians." SCHLEGEL{FNS. 



Canto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished. 73 

But kept the vows that held him bound: 
None, but the holy Vedas knew, 
And all their six-fold science 96 too. 
No Brahman there was found unfit 
To speak with eloquence and wit. 

And now the appointed time came near 
The sacrificial posts to rear. 
They brought them, and prepared to fix 
Of Bel 97 and Khadir 98 six and six; 
Six, made of the Palasa 99 tree, 
Of Fig-wood one, apart to be: 
Of Sleshmat 100 and of Devadar 101 
One column each, the mightiest far: 
So thick the two, the arms of man 
Their ample girth would fail to span. 
All these with utmost care were wrought 
By hand of priests in Scripture taught, 
And all with gold were gilded bright 
To add new splendour to the rite: 
Twenty-and-one those stakes in all, 
Each one-and-twenty cubits tall: 
And one-and-twenty ribbons there 
Hung on the pillars, bright and fair. 



96 The Angas or appendices of the Vedas, pronunciation, prosody, grammar, 
ritual, astronomy, and explanation of obscurities. 

97 In Sanskrit vilva, the JEgle Marmelos. "He who desires food and wishes 
to grow fat, ought to make his Yiipa (sacrificial post) of Bilva wood." Haug's 
Aitareya Brdhmanam. Vol. II. p. 73. 

98 The Mimosa Catechu. "He who desires heaven ought to make his Yiipa of 
Khadira wood." — Ibid. 

99 The Butea Frondosa. "He who desires beauty and sacred knowledge ought 
to make his Yupa of Palasa wood." — Ibid. 

The Cardia Latifolia. 
101 A ki nd of pine. The wo rd means literally the tree of the Gods. Compare the 
Hebrew I Hrlrccs of the Lord." 



74 The Ramayana 

Firm in the earth they stood at last, 

Where cunning craftsmen fixed them fast; 

And there unshaken each remained, 

Octagonal and smoothly planed. 

Then ribbons over all were hung, 

And flowers and scent around them flung. 

Thus decked they cast a glory forth 

Like the great saints who star the north. 102 

The sacrificial altar then 

Was raised by skilful twice-born men, 

In shape and figure to behold 

An eagle with his wings of gold, 

With twice nine pits and formed three-fold 

Each for some special God, beside 

The pillars were the victims tied; 

The birds that roam the wood, the air, 

The water, and the land were there, 

And snakes and things of reptile birth, 

And healing herbs that spring from earth: 

As texts prescribe, in Scripture found, 

Three hundred victims there were bound. 

The steed devoted to the host 

Of Gods, the gem they honour most, 

Was duly sprinkled. Then the Queen 

Kausalya, with delighted mien, 

With reverent steps around him paced, 

And with sweet wreaths the victim graced; 

Then with three swords in order due 

She smote the steed with joy, and slew. 

That night the queen, a son to gain, 

With calm and steady heart was fain 

By the dead charger's side to stay 



102 The Hindus call the constellation of Ursa Major the Seven Rishis or Saints. 



Canto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished. 75 

From evening till the break of day. 

Then came three priests, their care to lead 

The other queens to touch the steed, 

Upon Kausalya to attend, 

Their company and aid to lend. 

As by the horse she still reclined, 

With happy mien and cheerful mind, 

With Rishyasring the twice-born came 

And praised and blessed the royal dame. 

The priest who well his duty knew, 

And every sense could well subdue, 

From out the bony chambers freed 

And boiled the marrow of the steed. 

Above the steam the monarch bent, 

And, as he smelt the fragrant scent, 

In time and order drove afar 

All error that his hopes could mar. 

Then sixteen priests together came 

And cast into the sacred flame 

The severed members of the horse, 

Made ready all in ordered course. 

On piles of holy Fig-tree raised [024] 

The meaner victims' bodies blazed: 

The steed, of all the creatures slain, 

Alone required a pile of cane. 

Three days, as is by law decreed, 

Lasted that Offering of the Steed. 

The Chatushtom began the rite, 

And when the sun renewed his light, 

The Ukthya followed: after came 

The Atiratra's holy flame. 

These were the rites, and many more 

Arranged by light of holy lore, 

The Aptoryam of mighty power, 



76 The Ramayana 

And, each performed in proper hour, 

The Abhijit and Visvajit 

With every form and service fit; 

And with the sacrifice at night 

The Jyotishtom and Ayus rite. 103 The Atiratra, literally 

lasting through the night, is a division of the 
service of the Jyotishtoma. 
The Abhijit, the everywhere victorious, is the name of a 
sub-division of the great sacrifice of the 
Gavamanaya. 
The Visvajit, or the all-conquering, is a similar sub-division. 
Ayus is the name of a service forming a division of the 

Abhiplava sacrifice. 
The Aptorydm, is the seventh or last part of the Jyotishtoma, 
for the performance of which it is not essentially 
necessary, but a voluntary sacrifice instituted for 
the attainment of a specific desire. The literal 
meaning of the word would be in conformity 
with the Praudhamanoramd, "a sacrifice which 
procures the attainment of the desired object." 

GOLDSTUCKER'S DlCTIONARYJFNS. 



103 A minute account of these ancient ceremonies would be out of place here. 
"Agnishtoma is the name of a sacrifice, or rather a series of offerings to fire for 
five days. It is the first and principal part of the Jyotishtoma, one of the great 
sacrifices in which especially the juice of the Soma plant is offered for the pur- 
pose of obtaining Swarga or heaven." GOLDSTUCKER'S DICTIONARYJFNS. 
"The Agnishtoma is Agni. It is called so because they (the gods) praised him 
with this Stoma. They called it so to hide the proper meaning of the word: for 
the gods like to hide the proper meaning of words." 

"On account of four classes of gods having praised Agni with four Stomas, 
the whole was called Chatushtoma (containing four Stomas)." 

"It (the Agnishtoma) is called Jyotishtoma, for they praised Agni when he 
had risen up (to the sky) in the shape of a light (jyotis)." 

"This (Agnishtoma) is a sacrificial performance which has no beginning 
and no end." HAUG'S{FNS Aitareya Brdhmanam. 



Canto XIII. The Sacrifice Finished. 77 

"The Ukthya is a slight modification of the Agnishtoma sac- 
rifice. The noun to be supplied to it is kratu. It 
is a Soma sacrifice also, and one of the seven 
Sansthas or component parts of the Jyotishtoma. 
Its name indicates its nature. For Ukthya means 
'what refers to the Uktha,' which is an older name 
for Shastra, i.e. recitation of one of the Hotri 
priests at the time of the Soma libations. Thus 
this sacrifice is only a kind of supplement to the 
Agnishtoma." Haug{fns. Ai. B. 
The task was done, as laws prescribe: 

The monarch, glory of his tribe, 

Bestowed the land in liberal grants 

Upon the sacred ministrants. 

He gave the region of the east, 

His conquest, to the Hotri priest. 

The west, the celebrant obtained: 

The south, the priest presiding gained: 

The northern region was the share 

Of him who chanted forth the prayer, 104 

Thus did each priest obtain his meed 

At the great Slaughter of the Steed, 

Ordained, the best of all to be, 



104 "Four classes of priests were required in India at the most solemn sacrifices. 
1. The officiating priests, manual labourers, and acolytes, who had chiefly to 
prepare the sacrificial ground, to dress the altar, slay the victims, and pour out 
the libations. 2. The choristers, who chant the sacred hymns. 3. The reciters 
or readers, who repeat certain hymns. 4. The overseers or bishops, who watch 
and superintend the proceedings of the other priests, and ought to be familiar 
with all the Vedas. The formulas and verses to be muttered by the first class 
are contained in the Yajur-veda-sanhita. The hymns to be sung by the second 
class are in the Sama-veda-sanhita. The Atharva-veda is said to be intended for 
the Brahman or overseer, who is to watch the proceedings of the sacrifice, and 
to remedy any mistake that may occur. The hymns to be recited by the third 
class are contained in the Rigveda," Chips from a German Workshop. 



78 The Ramayana 

By self-existent deity. 
Ikshvaku's son with joyful mind 
This noble fee to each assigned, 
But all the priests with one accord 
Addressed that unpolluted lord: 
"Tis thine alone to keep the whole 
[025] Of this broad earth in firm control. 

No gift of lands from thee we seek: 
To guard these realms our hands were weak. 
On sacred lore our days are spent: 
Let other gifts our wants content." 



The chief of old Ikshvaku's line 
Gave them ten hundred thousand kine, 
A hundred millions of fine gold, 
The same in silver four times told. 
But every priest in presence there 
With one accord resigned his share. 
To Saint Vasishtha, high of soul, 
And Rishyasring they gave the whole. 
That largess pleased those Brahmans well, 
Who bade the prince his wishes tell. 
Then Dasaratha, mighty king, 
Made answer thus to Rishyasring: 
"O holy Hermit, of thy grace, 
Vouchsafe the increase of my race." 
He spoke; nor was his prayer denied: 
The best of Brahmans thus replied: 
"Four sons, O Monarch, shall be thine, 
Upholders of thy royal line." 



Canto XIV. Ravan Doomed. 79 

Canto XIV. Ravan Doomed. 



The saint, well read in holy lore, 
Pondered awhile his answer o'er, 
And thus again addressed the king, 
His wandering thoughts regathering: 
"Another rite will I begin 
Which shall the sons thou cravest win, 
Where all things shall be duly sped 
And first Atharva texts be read." 

Then by Vibhandak's gentle son 
Was that high sacrifice begun, 
The king's advantage seeking still 
And zealous to perform his will. 
Now all the Gods had gathered there, 
Each one for his allotted share: 
Brahma, the ruler of the sky, 
Sthanu, Narayan, Lord most high, 
And holy Indra men might view 
With Maruts 105 for his retinue; 
The heavenly chorister, and saint, 
And spirit pure from earthly taint, 
With one accord had sought the place 
The high-souled monarch's rite to grace. 
Then to the Gods who came to take 
Their proper share the hermit spake: 
"For you has Dasaratha slain 
The votive steed, a son to gain; 
Stern penance-rites the king has tried, 
And in firm faith on you relied, 



105 The Maruts are the winds, deified in the religion of the Veda like other 
mighty powers and phenomena of nature. 



80 The Ramayana 

And now with undiminished care 
A second rite would fain prepare. 
But, O ye Gods, consent to grant 
The longing of your supplicant. 
For him beseeching hands I lift, 
And pray you all to grant the gift, 
That four fair sons of high renown 
The offerings of the king may crown." 
They to the hermit's son replied: 
"His longing shall be gratified. 
For, Brahman, in most high degree 
We love the king and honour thee." 

These words the Gods in answer said, 
And vanished thence by Indra led. 
Thus to the Lord, the worlds who made, 
The Immortals all assembled prayed: 
"O Brahma, mighty by thy grace, 
Ravan, who rules the giant race, 
Torments us in his senseless pride, 
And penance-loving saints beside. 
For thou well pleased in days of old 
Gavest the boon that makes him bold, 
That God nor demon e'er should kill 
His charmed life, for so thy will. 
We, honouring that high behest, 
Bear all his rage though sore distressed. 
That lord of giants fierce and fell 
Scourges the earth and heaven and hell. 
Mad with thy boon, his impious rage 
Smites saint and bard and God and sage. 
The sun himself withholds his glow, 
The wind in fear forbears to blow; 
The fire restrains his wonted heat 



Canto XIV. Ravan Doomed. 8 1 

Where stand the dreaded Ravan's feet, 
And, necklaced with the wandering wave, 
The sea before him fears to rave. 
Kuvera's self in sad defeat 
Is driven from his blissful seat. 
We see, we feel the giant's might, 
And woe comes o'er us and affright. 
To thee, O Lord, thy suppliants pray 
To find some cure this plague to stay." 

Thus by the gathered Gods addressed 
He pondered in his secret breast, 
And said: "One only way I find 
To slay this fiend of evil mind. 
He prayed me once his life to guard 
From demon, God, and heavenly bard, 
And spirits of the earth and air, 
And I consenting heard his prayer. 
But the proud giant in his scorn 
Recked not of man of woman born. 
None else may take his life away, 
But only man the fiend may slay." 
The Gods, with Indra at their head, 
Rejoiced to hear the words he said. 
Then crowned with glory like a flame, 
Lord Vishnu to the council came; 
His hands shell, mace, and discus bore, 

And saffron were the robes he wore. [026] 

Riding his eagle through the crowd, 
As the sun rides upon a cloud, 
With bracelets of fine gold, he came 
Loud welcomed by the Gods' acclaim. 
His praise they sang with one consent, 
And cried, in lowly reverence bent: 



82 The Ramayana 

"O Lord whose hand fierce Madhu 106 slew, 
Be thou our refuge, firm and true; 
Friend of the suffering worlds art thou, 
We pray thee help thy suppliants now." 
Then Vishnu spake: "Ye Gods, declare, 
What may I do to grant your prayer?" 

"King Dasaratha," thus cried they, 
"Fervent in penance many a day, 
The sacrificial steed has slain, 
Longing for sons, but all in vain. 
Now, at the cry of us forlorn, 
Incarnate as his seed be born. 
Three queens has he: each lovely dame 
Like Beauty, Modesty, or Fame. 
Divide thyself in four, and be 
His offspring by these noble three. 
Man's nature take, and slay in fight 
Ravan who laughs at heavenly might: 
This common scourge, this rankling thorn 
Whom the three worlds too long have borne 
For Ravan in the senseless pride 
Of might unequalled has defied 
The host of heaven, and plagues with woe 
Angel and bard and saint below, 
Crushing each spirit and each maid 
Who plays in Nandan's 107 heavenly shade. 
O conquering Lord, to thee we bow; 
Our surest hope and trust art thou. 
Regard the world of men below, 
And slay the Gods' tremendous foe." 



106 j^ j jj an or fi en[ j whose destruction has given Vishnu one of his well-known 
titles, Madhava. 

107 The garden of Indra. 



Canto XIV. Ravan Doomed. 83 

When thus the suppliant Gods had prayed, 
His wise reply Narayan 108 made: 
"What task demands my presence there, 
And whence this dread, ye Gods declare." 

The Gods replied: "We fear, O Lord, 
Fierce Ravan, ravener abhorred. 
Be thine the glorious task, we pray, 
In human form this fiend to slay. 
By thee of all the Blest alone 
This sinner may be overthrown. 
He gained by penance long and dire 
The favour of the mighty Sire. 
Then He who every gift bestows 
Guarded the fiend from heavenly foes, 
And gave a pledge his life that kept 
From all things living, man except. 
On him thus armed no other foe 
Than man may deal the deadly blow. 
Assume, O King, a mortal birth, 
And strike the demon to the earth." 

Then Vishnu, God of Gods, the Lord 
Supreme by all the worlds adored, 
To Brahma and the suppliants spake: 
"Dismiss your fear: for your dear sake 
In battle will I smite him dead, 
The cruel fiend, the Immortal's dread. 
And lords and ministers and all 
His kith and kin with him shall fall. 
Then, in the world of mortal men, 



108 One of the most ancient and popular of the numerous names of Vishnu. The 
word has been derived in several ways, and may mean he who moved on the 
(primordial) waters, or he who pervades or influences men or their thoughts. 



84 The Ramayana 

Ten thousand years and hundreds ten 

I as a human king will reign, 

And guard the earth as my domain." 

God, saint, and nymph, and minstrel throng 
With heavenly voices raised their song 
In hymns of triumph to the God 
Whose conquering feet on Madhu trod: 
"Champion of Gods, as man appear, 

This cruel Ravan slay, 
The thorn that saints and hermits fear, 

The plague that none can stay. 
In savage fury uncontrolled 
His pride for ever grows: 
He dares the Lord of Gods to hold 
Among his deadly foes." 



Canto XV. The Nectar. 



When wisest Vishnu thus had given 
His promise to the Gods of heaven, 
He pondered in his secret mind 
A suited place of birth to find, 
Then he decreed, the lotus-eyed, 
In four his being to divide, 
And Dasaratha, gracious king, 
He chose as sire from whom to spring. 
That childless prince of high renown, 
Who smote in war his foemen down, 
At that same time with utmost care 



Canto XV. The Nectar. 85 

Prepared the rite that wins an heir. 109 
Then Vishnu, fain on earth to dwell, 
Bade the Almighty Sire farewell, 
And vanished while a reverent crowd 
Of Gods and saints in worship bowed. 

The monarch watched the sacred rite, 
When a vast form of awful might, 
Of matchless splendour, strength, and size 

Was manifest before his eyes. [027] 

From forth the sacrificial flame, 
Dark, robed in red, the being came. 
His voice was drumlike, loud and low, 
His face suffused with rosy glow. 
Like a huge lion's mane appeared 
The long locks of his hair and beard. 
He shone with many a lucky sign, 
And many an ornament divine; 
A towering mountain in his height, 
A tiger in his gait and might. 
No precious mine more rich could be, 
No burning flame more bright than he. 
His arms embraced in loving hold, 
Like a dear wife, a vase of gold 
Whose silver lining held a draught 
Of nectar as in heaven is quaffed: 
A vase so vast, so bright to view, 
They scarce could count the vision true. 
Upon the king his eyes he bent, 
And said: "The Lord of life has sent 
His servant down, O Prince, to be 
A messenger from heaven to thee." 
The king with all his nobles by 



109 The Horse-Sacrifice, just described. 



The Ramayana 



Raised reverent hands and made reply: 
"Welcome, O glorious being! Say 
How can my care thy grace repay." 
Envoy of Him whom all adore 
Thus to the king he spake once more: 
"The Gods accept thy worship: they 
Give thee the blessed fruit to-day. 
Approach and take, O glorious King, 
This heavenly nectar which I bring, 
For it shall give thee sons and wealth, 
And bless thee with a store of health. 
Give it to those fair queens of thine, 
And bid them quaff the drink divine: 
And they the princely sons shall bear 
Long sought by sacrifice and prayer." 

"Yea, O my lord," the monarch said, 
And took the vase upon his head, 
The gift of Gods, of fine gold wrought, 
With store of heavenly liquor fraught. 
He honoured, filled with transport new, 
That wondrous being, fair to view, 
As round the envoy of the God 
With reverential steps he trod. 110 
His errand done, that form of light 



To walk round an object keeping the right side towards it is a mark of 
great respect. The Sanskrit word for the observance is pradakshind, from pra 
pro, and daksha right, Greek Se^ioc,, Latin dexter, Gaelic deas-il. A similar 
ceremony is observed by the Gaels. 

"In the meantime she traced around him, with wavering steps, the propitia- 
tion, which some have thought has been derived from the Druidical mythology. 
It consists, as is well known, in the person who makes the deasil walking three 
times round the person who is the object of the ceremony, taking care to move 
according to the course of the sun." 

SCOTT{FNS. The Two Drovers. 



Canto XV. The Nectar. 87 

Arose and vanished from the sight. 
High rapture filled the monarch's soul, 
Possessed of that celestial bowl, 
As when a man by want distressed 
With unexpected wealth is blest. 
And rays of transport seemed to fall 
Illuminating bower and hall, 
As when the autumn moon rides high, 
And floods with lovely light the sky. 
Quick to the ladies' bower he sped, 
And thus to Queen Kausalya said: 
"This genial nectar take and quaff," 
He spoke, and gave the lady half. 
Part of the nectar that remained 
Sumitra from his hand obtained. 
He gave, to make her fruitful too, 
Kaikeyi half the residue. 
A portion yet remaining there, 

He paused awhile to think. 
Then gave Sumitra, with her share. 

The remnant of the drink. 
Thus on each queen of those fair three 

A part the king bestowed, 
And with sweet hope a child to see 

Their yearning bosoms glowed. 
The heavenly bowl the king supplied 

Their longing souls relieved, 
And soon, with rapture and with pride, 

Each royal dame conceived. 
He gazed upon each lady's face, 

And triumphed as he gazed, 
As Indra in his royal place 

By Gods and spirits praised. 



The Ramayana 



Canto XVI. The Vanars. 



When Vishnu thus had gone on earth, 
From the great king to take his birth, 
The self-existent Lord of all 
Addressed the Gods who heard his call: 
"For Vishnu's sake, the strong and true, 
Who seeks the good of all of you, 
Make helps, in war to lend him aid, 
In forms that change at will, arrayed, 
Of wizard skill and hero might, 
Outstrippers of the wind in flight, 
Skilled in the arts of counsel, wise, 
And Vishnu's peers in bold emprise; 
With heavenly arts and prudence fraught, 
By no devices to be caught; 
Skilled in all weapon's lore and use 
[028] As they who drink the immortal juice. 1 1 l 

And let the nymphs supreme in grace, 
And maidens of the minstrel race, 
Monkeys and snakes, and those who rove 
Free spirits of the hill and grove, 
And wandering Daughters of the Air, 
In monkey form brave children bear. 
So erst the lord of bears I shaped, 
Born from my mouth as wide I gaped." 



The Amrit, the nectar of the Indian Gods. 



Canto XVI. The Vanars. 89 

Thus by the mighty Sire addressed 
They all obeyed his high behest, 
And thus begot in countless swarms 
Brave sons disguised in sylvan forms. 
Each God, each sage became a sire, 
Each minstrel of the heavenly quire, 112 
Each faun, 113 of children strong and good 
Whose feet should roam the hill and wood. 
Snakes, bards, 114 and spirits, 115 serpents bold 
Had sons too numerous to be told. 
Bali, the woodland hosts who led, 
High as Mahendra's 116 lofty head, 
Was Indra's child. That noblest fire, 
The Sun, was great Sugriva's sire, 
Tara, the mighty monkey, he 
Was offspring of Vrihaspati: 117 
Tara the matchless chieftain, boast 
For wisdom of the Vanar host. 
Of Gandhamadan brave and bold 
The father was the Lord of Gold. 



112 Gandharvas (Southey's Glendoveers) are celestial musicians inhabiting In- 
dra's heaven and forming the orchestra at all the banquets of the principal 
deities. 

113 Yakshas, demigods attendant especially on Kuvera, and employed by him 
in the care of his garden and treasures. 

114 Kimpurushas, demigods attached also to the service of Kuvera, celestial 
musicians, represented like centaurs reversed with human figures and horses' 
heads. 

115 Siddhas, demigods or spirits of undefined attributes, occupying with the 
Vidyddharas the middle air or region between the earth and the sun. 

Schlegel translates: "Divi, Sapientes, Fidicines, Praepetes, illustres Genii, 
Praconesque procrearunt natos, masculos, silvicolas; angues porro, Hip- 
pocephali Beati, Aligeri, Serpentesque frequentes alacriter generavere prolem 
innumerabilem." 

116 A mountain in the south of India. 

117 The preceptor of the Gods and regent of the planet Jupiter. 



90 The Ramayana 

Nala the mighty, dear to fame, 

Of skilful Visvakarma 118 came. 

From Agni, 119 Nila bright as flame, 

Who in his splendour, might, and worth, 

Surpassed the sire who gave him birth. 

The heavenly Asvins, 120 swift and fair, 

Were fathers of a noble pair, 

Who, Dwivida and Mainda named, 

For beauty like their sires were famed, 

Varun 121 was father of Sushen, 

Of Sarabh, he who sends the rain, 122 

Hanuman, best of monkey kind, 

Was son of him who breathes the wind: 

Like thunderbolt in frame was he, 

And swift as Garud's 123 self could flee. 

These thousands did the Gods create 

Endowed with might that none could mate, 

In monkey forms that changed at will; 

So strong their wish the fiend to kill. 

In mountain size, like lions thewed, 

Up sprang the wondrous multitude, 

Auxiliar hosts in every shape, 

Monkey and bear and highland ape. 

In each the strength, the might, the mien 

Of his own parent God were seen. 



118 The celestial architect, the Indian Hephaestus, Mulciber, or Vulcan. 

119 The God of Fire. 

120 Twin children of the Sun, the physicians of Swarga or Indra's heaven. 

121 The deity of the waters. 

122 Parjanya, sometimes confounded with Indra. 

123 The bird and vehicle of Vishnu. He is generally represented as a being 
something between a man and a bird and considered as the sovereign of the 
feathered race. He may be compared with the Simurgh of the Persians, the 
Anka of the Arabs, the Griffin of chivalry, the Phcenix of Egypt, and the bird 
that sits upon the ash Yggdrasil of the Edda. 



Canto XVI. The Vanars. 91 

Some chiefs of Vanar mothers came, 

Some of she-bear and minstrel dame, 

Skilled in all arms in battle's shock; 

The brandished tree, the loosened rock; 

And prompt, should other weapons fail, 

To fight and slay with tooth and nail. 

Their strength could shake the hills amain, 

And rend the rooted trees in twain, 

Disturb with their impetuous sweep 

The Rivers' Lord, the Ocean deep, 

Rend with their feet the seated ground, 

And pass wide floods with airy bound, 

Or forcing through the sky their way 

The very clouds by force could stay. 

Mad elephants that wander through 

The forest wilds, could they subdue, 

And with their furious shout could scare 

Dead upon earth the birds of air. 

So were the sylvan chieftains formed; 

Thousands on thousands still they swarmed. 

These were the leaders honoured most, 

The captains of the Vanar host, 

And to each lord and chief and guide 

Was monkey offspring born beside. 

Then by the bears' great monarch stood 

The other roamers of the wood, [029] 

And turned, their pathless homes to seek, 

To forest and to mountain peak. 

The leaders of the monkey band 

By the two brothers took their stand, 

Sugriva, offspring of the Sun 

And Bali, Indra's mighty one. 

They both endowed with Garud's might, 

And skilled in all the arts of fight, 



92 The Ramayana 

Wandered in arms the forest through, 
And lions, snakes, and tigers, slew. 
But every monkey, ape, and bear 
Ever was Bali's special care; 
With his vast strength and mighty arm 
He kept them from all scathe and harm. 
And so the earth with hill, wood, seas, 
Was filled with mighty ones like these, 
Of various shape and race and kind, 
With proper homes to each assigned, 
With Rama's champions fierce and strong 

The earth was overspread, 
High as the hills and clouds, a throng 

With bodies vast and dread. 124 



Canto XVII. Rishyasring's Return. 



Now when the high-souled monarch's rite, 
The Asvamedh, was finished quite, 
Their sacrificial dues obtained, 
The Gods their heavenly homes regained. 
The lofty-minded saints withdrew, 
Each to his place, with honour due, 
And kings and chieftains, one and all, 



124 This Canto will appear ridiculous to the European reader. But it should 
be remembered that the monkeys of an Indian forest, the "bough-deer" as the 
poets call them, are very different animals from the "turpissima bestia" that 
accompanies the itinerant organ-grinder or grins in the Zoological Gardens of 
London. Milton has made his hero, Satan, assume the forms of a cormorant, a 
toad, and a serpent, and I cannot see that this creation of semi-divine Vanars, 
or monkeys, is more ridiculous or undignified. 



Canto XVII. Rishyasring's Return. 93 

Who came to grace the festival. 
And Dasaratha, ere they went, 
Addressed them thus benevolent: 
"Now may you, each with joyful heart, 
To your own realms, O Kings, depart. 
Peace and good luck attend you there, 
And blessing, is my friendly prayer; 
Let cares of state each mind engage 
To guard his royal heritage. 
A monarch from his throne expelled 
No better than the dead is held. 
So he who cares for power and might 
Must guard his realm and royal right. 
Such care a meed in heaven will bring 
Better than rites and offering. 
Such care a king his country owes 
As man upon himself bestows, 
When for his body he provides 
Raiment and every need besides. 
For future days should kings foresee, 
And keep the present error-free." 

Thus did the king the kings exhort: 
They heard, and turned them from the court 
And, each to each in friendship bound, 
Went forth to all the realms around. 
The rites were o'er, the guests were sped: 
The train the best of Brahmans led, 
In which the king with joyful soul, 
With his dear wives, and with the whole 
Of his imperial host and train 
Of cars and servants turned again, 
And, as a monarch dear to fame, 
Within his royal city came. 



94 The Ramayana 

Next, Rishyasring, well-honoured sage, 
And Santa, sought their hermitage. 
The king himself, of prudent mind, 
Attended him, with troops behind. 
And all her men the town outpoured 
With Saint Vasishtha and their lord. 
High mounted on a car of state, 
O'er canopied fair Santa sate. 
Drawn by white oxen, while a band 
Of servants marched on either hand. 
Great gifts of countless price she bore, 
With sheep and goats and gems in store. 
Like Beauty's self the lady shone 
With all the jewels she had on, 
As, happy in her sweet content, 
Peerless amid the fair she went. 
Not Queen Paulomfs 125 self could be 
More loving to her lord than she. 
She who had lived in happy ease, 
Honoured with all her heart could please, 
While dames and kinsfolk ever vied 
To see her wishes gratified, 
Soon as she knew her husband's will 
Again to seek the forest, still 
Was ready for the hermit's cot, 
Nor murmured at her altered lot. 
The king attended to the wild 
That hermit and his own dear child, 
And in the centre of a throng 
Of noble courtiers rode along. 
The sage's son had let prepare 
A lodge within the wood, and there 



125 The consort of Indra, called also Sachf and Indranf. 



Canto XVII. Rishyasring's Return. 95 

While they lingered blithe and gay. 
Then, duly honoured, went their way. 
The glorious hermit Rishyasring 
Drew near and thus besought the king: 

"Return, my honoured lord, I pray, 
Return, upon thy homeward way." 
The monarch, with the waiting crowd, 
Lifted his voice and wept aloud, 
And with eyes dripping still to each 
Of his good queens he spake this speech: 

"Kausalya and Sumitra dear, 
And thou, my sweet Kaikeyi, hear. 
All upon Santa feast your gaze, 
The last time for a length of days." 
To Santa's arms the ladies leapt, 
And hung about her neck and wept, 
And cried, "O, happy be the life 
Of this great Brahman and his wife. 
The Wind, the Fire, the Moon on high, 
The Earth, the Streams, the circling Sky, 
Preserve thee in the wood, true spouse, 
Devoted to thy husband's vows. 
And O dear Santa, ne'er neglect 
To pay the dues of meek respect 
To the great saint, thy husband's sire, 
With all observance and with fire. 
And, sweet one, pure of spot and blame, 
Forget not thou thy husband's claim; 
In every change, in good and ill, 
Let thy sweet words delight him still, 
And let thy worship constant be: 
Her lord is woman's deity. 



[030] 



96 The Ramayana 

To learn thy welfare, dearest friend, 
The king will many a Brahman send. 
Let happy thoughts thy spirit cheer, 
And be not troubled, daughter dear." 

These soothing words the ladies said. 
And pressed their lips upon her head. 
Each gave with sighs her last adieu, 
Then at the king's command withdrew. 
The king around the hermit went 
With circling footsteps reverent, 
And placed at Rishyasring's command 
Some soldiers of his royal band. 
The Brahman bowed in turn and cried, 
"May fortune never leave thy side. 
O mighty King, with justice reign, 
And still thy people's love retain." 
He spoke, and turned away his face, 

And, as the hermit went, 
The monarch, rooted to the place, 

Pursued with eyes intent. 
But when the sage had past from view 
King Dasaratha turned him too, 
Still fixing on his friend each thought. 
With such deep love his breast was fraught. 
Amid his people's loud acclaim 
Home to his royal seat he came, 

And lived delighted there, 
Expecting when each queenly dame, 
Upholder of his ancient fame, 

Her promised son should bear. 
The glorious sage his way pursued 
Till close before his eyes he viewed 
Sweet Champa, Lomapad's fair town, 



Canto XVIII. Rishyasring's Departure. 97 

Wreathed with her Champacs' 126 leafy crown. 

Soon as the saint's approach he knew, 

The king, to yield him honour due, 

Went forth to meet him with a band 

Of priests and nobles of the land: 

"Hail, Sage," he cried, "O joy to me! 

What bliss it is, my lord, to see 

Thee with thy wife and all thy train 

Returning to my town again. 

Thy father, honoured Sage, is well, 

Who hither from his woodland cell 

Has sent full many a messenger 

For tidings both of thee and her." 

Then joyfully, for due respect, 

The monarch bade the town be decked. 

The king and Rishyasring elate 

Entered the royal city's gate: 

In front the chaplain rode. 
Then, loved and honoured with all care 
By monarch and by courtier, there 

The glorious saint abode. 



Canto XVIII. Rishyasring's Departure. 



126 The Michelia champaca. It bears a scented yellow blossom: 

"The maid of India blest again to hold 

In her full lap the Champac's leaves of gold." 

Lallah Rookh. 



98 The Ramayana 

The monarch called a Brahman near 

And said, "Now speed away 
To Kasyap's son, 127 the mighty seer, 

And with all reverence say 
The holy child he holds so dear, 
The hermit of the noble mind, 
Whose equal it were hard to find, 

Returned, is dwelling here. 
Go, and instead of me do thou 
Before that best of hermits bow, 
That still he may, for his dear son, 
Show me the favour I have won." 
Soon as the king these words had said, 
To Kasyap's son the Brahman sped. 
Before the hermit low he bent 
And did obeisance, reverent; 
Then with meek words his grace to crave 
The message of his lord he gave: 
"The high-souled father of his bride 
Had called thy son his rites to guide: 
Those rites are o'er, the steed is slain; 
Thy noble child is come again." 

Soon as the saint that speech had heard 
His spirit with desire was stirred 
To seek the city of the king 
[031] And to his cot his son to bring. 

With young disciples at his side 
Forth on his way the hermit hied, 
While peasants from their hamlets ran 
To reverence the holy man. 
Each with his little gift of food, 
Forth came the village multitude, 



127 Vibhandak, the father of Rishyasring 



Canto XVIII. Rishyasring's Departure. 99 

And, as they humbly bowed the head, 

"What may we do for thee?" they said. 

Then he, of Brahmans first and best, 

The gathered people thus addressed: 

"Now tell me for I fain would know, 

Why is it I am honoured so?" 

They to the high-souled saint replied: 

"Our ruler is with thee allied. 

Our master's order we fulfil; 

O Brahman, let thy mind be still." 



With joy the saintly hermit heard 
Each pleasant and delightful word, 
And poured a benediction down 
On king and ministers and town. 
Glad at the words of that high saint 
Some servants hastened to acquaint 
Their king, rejoicing to impart 
The tidings that would cheer his heart. 
Soon as the joyful tale he knew 
To meet the saint the monarch flew, 
The guest-gift in his hand he brought, 
And bowed before him and besought: 
"This day by seeing thee I gain 
Not to have lived my life in vain, 
Now be not wroth with me, I pray, 
"Because I wiled thy son away. 128 



128 A hemisloka is wanting in Schlegel's text, which he thus fills up in his Latin 
translation. 



100 The Ramayana 

The best of Brahmans answer made: 
"Be not, great lord of kings, afraid. 
Thy virtues have not failed to win 
My favour, O thou pure of sin." 
Then in the front the saint was placed, 
The king came next in joyous haste, 
And with him entered his abode, 
Mid glad acclaim as on they rode. 
To greet the sage the reverent crowd 
Raised suppliant hands and humbly bowed. 
Then from the palace many a dame 
Following well-dressed Santa came, 
Stood by the mighty saint and cried: 
"See, honour's source, thy son's dear bride." 
The saint, who every virtue knew, 
His arms around his daughter threw, 
And with a father's rapture pressed 
The lady to his wondering breast. 
Arising from the saint's embrace 
She bowed her low before his face, 
And then, with palm to palm applied, 
Stood by her hermit father's side. 
He for his son, as laws ordain, 
Performed the rite that frees from stain, 129 
And, honoured by the wise and good, 
With him departed to the wood. 



Canto XIX. The Birth Of The Princes. 



129 Rishyasring, a Brahman, had married Santa who was of the Kshatriya or 
Warrior caste and an expiatory ceremony was necessary on account of this 
violation of the law. 



Canto XIX. The Birth Of The Princes. 101 

The seasons six in rapid flight 

Had circled since that glorious rite. 

Eleven months had passed away; 

'Twas Chaitra's ninth returning day. 130 

The moon within that mansion shone 

Which Aditi looks kindly on. 

Raised to their apex in the sky 

Five brilliant planets beamed on high. 

Shone with the moon, in Cancer's sign, 

Vrihaspati 131 with light divine. 

Kausalya bore an infant blest 

With heavenly marks of grace impressed; 

Rama, the universe's lord, 

A prince by all the worlds adored. 

New glory Queen Kausalya won 

Reflected from her splendid son. 

So Aditi shone more and more, 

The Mother of the Gods, when she 

The King of the Immortals 132 bore, 

The thunder-wielding deity. [032] 



no "jjjg p 0et no (jQubt intended to indicate the vernal equinox as the birthday 
of Rama. For the month Chaitra is the first of the two months assigned to the 
spring; it corresponds with the latter half of March and the former half of April 
in our division of the year. Aditi, the mother of the Gods, is lady of the seventh 
lunar mansion which is called Punarvasu. The five planets and their positions 
in the Zodiac are thus enumerated by both commentators: the Sun in Aries, 
Mars in Capricorn, Saturn in Libra, Jupiter in Cancer, Venus in Pisces.... I 
leave to astronomers to examine whether the parts of the description agree with 
one another, and, if this be the case, thence to deduce the date. The Indians 
place the nativity of Rama in the confines of the second age (treta) and the third 
(dwapara): but it seems that this should be taken in an allegorical sense.... We 
may consider that the poet had an eye to the time in which, immediately before 
his own age, the aspects of the heavenly bodies were such as he has described." 
SCHLEGELJFNS. 

131 The regent of the planet Jupiter. 

132 Indra = Jupiter Tonans. 



102 The Ramayana 

The lotus-eyed, the beauteous boy, 

He came fierce Ravan to destroy; 

From half of Vishnu's vigour born, 

He came to help the worlds forlorn. 

And Queen Kaikeyi bore a child 

Of truest valour, Bharat styled, 

With every princely virtue blest, 

One fourth of Vishnu manifest. 

Sumitra too a noble pair, 

Called Lakshman and Satrughna, bare, 

Of high emprise, devoted, true, 

Sharers in Vishnu's essence too. 

'Neath Pushya's 133 mansion, Mina's 134 sign, 

Was Bharat born, of soul benign. 

The sun had reached the Crab at morn 

When Queen Sumitra's babes were born, 

What time the moon had gone to make 

His nightly dwelling with the Snake. 

The high-souled monarch's consorts bore 

At different times those glorious four, 

Like to himself and virtuous, bright 

As Proshthapada's 135 four-fold light. 

Then danced the nymphs' celestial throng, 

The minstrels raised their strain; 
The drums of heaven pealed loud and long, 

And flowers came down in rain. 
Within Ayodhya, blithe and gay, 
All kept the joyous holiday. 



133 "Pushya is the name of a month; but here it means the eighth mansion. The 
ninth is called Asleshd, or the snake. It is evident from this that Bharat, though 
his birth is mentioned before that of the twins, was the youngest of the four 
brothers and Rama's junior by eleven months." SCHLEGEL{FNS. 

134 A fish, the Zodiacal sign Pisces. 

135 One of the constellations, containing stars in the wing of Pegasus. 



Canto XIX. The Birth Of The Princes. 103 

The spacious square, the ample road 
With mimes and dancers overflowed, 
And with the voice of music rang 
Where minstrels played and singers sang, 
And shone, a wonder to behold, 
With dazzling show of gems and gold. 
Nor did the king his largess spare, 
For minstrel, driver, bard, to share; 
Much wealth the Brahmans bore away, 
And many thousand dine that day. 

Soon as each babe was twelve days old 
'Twas time the naming rite to hold. 
When Saint Vasishtha, rapt with joy, 
Assigned a name to every boy. 
Rama, to him the high-souled heir, 
Bharat, to him Kaikeyi bare: 
Of Queen Sumitra one fair son 
Was Lakshman, and Satrughna one 
Rama, his sire's supreme delight, 
Like some proud banner cheered his sight, 
And to all creatures seemed to be 
The self-existent deity. 
All heroes, versed in holy lore, 
To all mankind great love they bore. 
Fair stores of wisdom all possessed, 
With princely graces all were blest. 
But mid those youths of high descent, 
With lordly light preeminent. 
Like the full moon unclouded, shone 
Rama, the world's dear paragon. 



136 Rama means the Delight (of the World); Bharat, the Supporter; Lakshman, 
the Auspicious; Satrughna, the Slayer of Foes. 



104 The Ramayana 

He best the elephant could guide. 137 
Urge the fleet car, the charger ride: 
A master he of bowman's skill, 
Joying to do his father's will. 
The world's delight and darling, he 
Loved Lakshman best from infancy 
And Lakshman, lord of lofty fate, 
Upon his elder joyed to wait, 
Striving his second self to please 
With friendship's sweet observances. 
His limbs the hero ne'er would rest 
Unless the couch his brother pressed; 
Except beloved Rama shared 
He could not taste the meal prepared. 
When Rama, pride of Reghu's race, 
Sprang on his steed to urge the chase, 
Behind him Lakshman loved to go 
And guard him with his trusty bow. 
As Rama was to Lakshman dear 
More than his life and ever near, 
So fond Satrughna prized above 
His very life his Bharat's love. 
Illustrious heroes, nobly kind 
In mutual love they all combined, 
And gave their royal sire delight 
With modest grace and warrior might: 
Supported by the glorious four 
Shone Dasaratha more and more, 
As though, with every guardian God 



137 Schlegel, in the Indische Bibliothek, remarks that the proficiency of the 
Indians in this art early attracted the attention of Alexander's successors, and 
natives of India were so long exclusively employed in this service that the 
name Indian was applied to any elephant-driver, to whatever country he might 
belong. 



Canto XX. Visvamitra's Visit. 105 

Who keeps the land and skies, 
The Father of all creatures trod 
The earth before men's eyes. 



Canto XX. Visvamitra's Visit. 



Now Dasaratha's pious mind 

Meet wedlock for his sons designed; [033] 

With priests and friends the king began 

To counsel and prepare his plan. 

Such thoughts engaged his bosom, when, 

To see Ayodhya's lord of men, 

A mighty saint of glorious fame, 

The hermit Visvamitra 138 came. 

For evil fiends that roam by night 

Disturbed him in each holy rite, 

And in their strength and frantic rage 

Assailed with witcheries the sage. 

He came to seek the monarch's aid 

To guard the rites the demons stayed, 

Unable to a close to bring 

One unpolluted offering. 

Seeking the king in this dire strait 

He said to those who kept the gate: 

"Haste, warders, to your master run, 

And say that here stands Gadhi's son." 



138 The story of this famous saint is given at sufficient length in Cantos LI-LV. 
This saint has given his name to the district and city to the east of Benares. 
The original name, preserved in a land-grant on copper now in the Museum of 
the Benares College, has been Moslemized into Ghazeepore (the City of the 
Soldier-martyr). 



106 The Ramayana 

Soon as they heard the holy man, 
To the king's chamber swift they ran 
With minds disordered all, and spurred 
To wildest zeal by what they heard. 
On to the royal hall they sped, 
There stood and lowly bowed the head, 
And made the lord of men aware 
That the great saint was waiting there. 

The king with priest and peer arose 
And ran the sage to meet, 

As Indra from his palace goes 
Lord Brahma's self to greet. 
When glowing with celestial light 
The pious hermit was in sight, 
The king, whose mien his transport showed, 
The honoured gift for guests bestowed. 
Nor did the saint that gift despise, 
Offered as holy texts advise; 
He kindly asked the earth's great king 
How all with him was prospering. 
The son of Kusik 1 39 bade him tell 
If all in town and field were well, 
All well with friends, and kith and kin, 
And royal treasure stored within: 

"Do all thy neighbours own thy sway? 
Thy foes confess thee yet? 

Dost thou continue still to pay 
To Gods and men each debt?" 
Then he, of hermits first and best, 
Vasishtha with a smile 140 addressed, 
And asked him of his welfare too, 
Showing him honour as was due. 



' The son of Kusik is Visvamitra. 



140 At the recollection of their former enmity, to be described hereafter. 



Canto XX. Visvamitra's Visit. 107 

Then with the sainted hermit all 

Went joyous to the monarch's hall, 

And sate them down by due degree, 

Each one, of rank and dignity. 

Joy filled the noble prince's breast 

Who thus bespoke the honoured guest: 

"As amrit 141 by a mortal found, 

As rain upon the thirsty ground, 

As to an heirless man a son 

Born to him of his precious one, 

As gain of what we sorely miss, 

As sudden dawn of mighty bliss, 

So is thy coming here to me: 

All welcome, mighty Saint, to thee. 

What wish within thy heart hast thou? 

If I can please thee, tell me how. 

Hail, Saint, from whom all honours flow, 

Worthy of all I can bestow. 

Blest is my birth with fruit to-day, 

Nor has my life been thrown away. 

I see the best of Brahman race 

And night to glorious morn gives place. 

Thou, holy Sage, in days of old 

Among the royal saints enrolled, 

Didst, penance-glorified, within 

The Brahman caste high station win. 

'Tis meet and right in many a way 

That I to thee should honour pay. 

This seems a marvel to mine eyes: 

All sin thy visit purifies; 

And I by seeing thee, O Sage, 

Have reaped the fruit of pilgrimage. 



108 The Ramayana 

Then say what thou wouldst have me do, 
That thou hast sought this interview. 
Favoured by thee, my wish is still, 
O Hermit, to perform thy will. 
Nor needest thou at length explain 
The object that thy heart would gain. 
Without reserve I grant it now: 
My deity, O Lord, art thou." 



The glorious hermit, far renowned, 
With highest fame and virtue crowned, 
Rejoiced these modest words to hear 
Delightful to the mind and ear. 



Canto XXI. Visvamitra's Speech. 



The hermit heard with high content 
That speech so wondrous eloquent, 
[034] And while each hair with joy arose, 142 



142 Great joy, according to the Hindu belief, has this effect, not causing each 
particular hair to stand on end, but gently raising all the down upon the body. 



Canto XXI. Visvamitra's Speech. 109 

He thus made answer at the close: 

"Good is thy speech O noble King, 

And like thyself in everything. 

So should their lips be wisdom-fraught 

Whom kings begot, Vasishtha taught. 

The favour which I came to seek 

Thou grantest ere my tongue can speak. 

But let my tale attention claim, 

And hear the need for which I came. 

O King, as Scripture texts allow, 

A holy rite employs me now. 

Two fiends who change their forms at will 

Impede that rite with cursed skill. 143 

Oft when the task is nigh complete, 

These worst of fiends my toil defeat, 

Throw bits of bleeding flesh, and o'er 

The altar shed a stream of gore. 

When thus the rite is mocked and stayed, 

And all my pious hopes delayed, 

Cast down in heart the spot I leave, 

And spent with fruitless labour grieve. 

Nor can I, checked by prudence, dare 

Let loose my fury on them there: 

The muttered curse, the threatening word, 

In such a rite must ne'er be heard. 

Thy grace the rite from check can free. 

And yield the fruit I long to see. 

Thy duty bids thee, King, defend 

The suffering guest, the suppliant friend. 

Give me thy son, thine eldest born, 

Whom locks like raven's wings adorn. 



143 The Rakshasas, giants, or fiends who are represented as disturbing the 
sacrifice, signify here, as often elsewhere, merely the savage tribes which 
placed themselves in hostile opposition to Brahmanical institutions. 



110 The Ramayana 

That hero youth, the truly brave, 

Of thee, O glorious King, I crave. 

For he can lay those demons low 

Who mar my rites and work me woe: 

My power shall shield the youth from harm, 

And heavenly might shall nerve his arm. 

And on my champion will I shower 

Unnumbered gifts of varied power, 

Such gifts as shall ensure his fame 

And spread through all the worlds his name. 

Be sure those fiends can never stand 

Before the might of Rama's hand, 

And mid the best and bravest none 

Can slay that pair but Raghu's son. 

Entangled in the toils of Fate 

Those sinners, proud and obstinate, 

Are, in their fury overbold, 

No match for Rama mighty-souled. 

Nor let a father's breast give way 

Too far to fond affection's sway. 

Count thou the fiends already slain: 

My word is pledged, nor pledged in vain. 

I know the hero Rama well 

In whom high thoughts and valour dwell; 

So does Vasishtha, so do these 

Engaged in long austerities. 

If thou would do the righteous deed, 

And win high fame, thy virtue's meed, 

Fame that on earth shall last and live, 

To me, great King, thy Rama give. 

If to the words that I have said, 

With Saint Vasishtha at their head 

Thy holy men, O King, agree, 

Then let thy Rama go with me. 



Canto XXII. Dasaratha's Speech. Ill 

Ten nights my sacrifice will last, 
And ere the stated time be past 
Those wicked fiends, those impious twain, 
Must fall by wondrous Rama slain. 
Let not the hours, I warn thee, fly, 
Fixt for the rite, unheeded by; 
Good luck have thou, O royal Chief, 
Nor give thy heart to needless grief." 

Thus in fair words with virtue fraught 
The pious glorious saint besought. 
But the good speech with poignant sting 
Pierced ear and bosom of the king, 
Who, stabbed with pangs too sharp to bear, 
Fell prostrate and lay fainting there. 



Canto XXII. Dasaratha's Speech. 

His tortured senses all astray, 

While the hapless monarch lay, 

Then slowly gathering thought and strength 

To Visvamitra spoke at length: 

"My son is but a child, I ween; 

This year he will be just sixteen. 

How is he fit for such emprise, 

My darling with the lotus eyes? 

A mighty army will I bring 

That calls me master, lord, and king, 

And with its countless squadrons fight 

Against these rovers of the night. 

My faithful heroes skilled to wield 



112 The Ramayana 

The arms of war will take the field; 
Their skill the demons' might may break: 
Rama, my child, thou must not take. 
I, even I, my bow in hand, 
Will in the van of battle stand, 
And, while my soul is left alive, 
With the night-roaming demons strive. 
Thy guarded sacrifice shall be 
Completed, from all hindrance free. 
Thither will I my journey make: 
Rama, my child, thou must not take. 
A boy unskilled, he knows not yet 
The bounds to strength and weakness set. 
No match is he for demon foes 
[035] Who magic arts to arms oppose. 

O chief of saints, I have no power, 
Of Rama reft, to live one hour: 
Mine aged heart at once would break: 
Rama, my child, thou must not take. 
Nine thousand circling years have fled 
With all their seasons o'er my head, 
And as a hard- won boon, O sage, 
These sons have come to cheer mine age. 
My dearest love amid the four 
Is he whom first his mother bore, 
Still dearer for his virtues' sake: 
Rama, my child, thou must not take. 
But if, unmoved by all I say, 
Thou needs must bear my son away, 
Let me lead with him, I entreat, 
A four-fold army 144 all complete. 
What is the demons' might, O Sage? 



144 Consisting of horse, foot, chariots, and elephants. 



Canto XXII. Dasaratha's Speech. 113 

Who are they? What their parentage? 

What is their size? What beings lend 

Their power to guard them and befriend? 

How can my son their arts withstand? 

Or I or all my armed band? 

Tell me the whole that I may know 

To meet in war each evil foe 

Whom conscious might inspires with pride." 

And Visvamitra thus replied: 
"Sprung from Pulastya's race there came 
A giant known by Ravan's name. 
Once favoured by the Eternal Sire 
He plagues the worlds in ceaseless ire, 
For peerless power and might renowned, 
By giant bands encompassed round. 
Visravas for his sire they hold, 
His brother is the Lord of Gold. 
King of the giant hosts is he, 
And worst of all in cruelty. 
This Ravan's dread commands impel 
Two demons who in might excel, 
Marietta and Suvahu hight, 
To trouble and impede the rite." 

Then thus the king addressed the sage: 
"No power have I, my lord, to wage 
War with this evil-minded foe; 
Now pity on my darling show, 
And upon me of hapless fate, 
For thee as God I venerate. 
Gods, spirits, bards of heavenly birth, 145 



145 "-pjjg Gandharvas, or heavenly bards, had originally a warlike character 
but were afterwards reduced to the office of celestial musicians cheering the 



114 The Ramayana 

The birds of air, the snakes of earth 
Before the might of Ravan quail, 
Much less can mortal man avail. 
He draws, I hear, from out the breast 
The valour of the mightiest. 
No, ne'er can I with him contend, 
Or with the forces he may send. 
How can I then my darling lend, 
Godlike, unskilled in battle? No, 
I will not let my young child go. 
Foes of thy rite, those mighty ones, 
Sunda and Upasunda's sons, 
Are fierce as Fate to overthrow: 
I will not let my young child go. 
Marietta and Suvahu fell 
Are valiant and instructed well. 
One of the twain I might attack. 
With all my friends their lord to back." 



Canto XXIII. Vasishtha's Speech. 



banquets of the Gods. Dr. Kuhn has shown their identity with the Centaurs in 
name, origin and attributes." GORRESIO{FNS. 



Canto XXIII. Vasishtha's Speech. 1 15 

While thus the hapless monarch spoke, 
Paternal love his utterance broke. 
Then words like these the saint returned, 
And fury in his bosom burned: 
"Didst thou, O King, a promise make, 
And wishest now thy word to break? 
A son of Raghu's line should scorn 
To fail in faith, a man forsworn. 
But if thy soul can bear the shame 
I will return e'en as I came. 
Live with thy sons, and joy be thine, 
False scion of Kakutstha's line." 

As Visvamitra, mighty sage, 
Was moved with this tempestuous rage, 
Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame, 
And fear upon the Immortals came. 
But Saint Vasishtha, wisest seer, 
Observant of his vows austere, 
Saw the whole world convulsed with dread, 
And thus unto the monarch said: 
"Thou, born of old Ikshvaku's seed, 
Art Justice' self in mortal weed. 
Constant and pious, blest by fate, 
The right thou must not violate. 
Thou, Raghu's son, so famous through 
The triple world as just and true, 
Perform thy bounden duty still, 
Nor stain thy race by deed of ill. 
If thou have sworn and now refuse 
Thou must thy store of merit lose. 
Then, Monarch, let thy Rama go, 
Nor fear for him the demon foe. 
The fiends shall have no power to hurt 



116 The Ramayana 

Him trained to war or inexpert, 
Nor vanquish him in battle field, 
For Kusik's son the youth will shield. 
He is incarnate Justice, he 
The best of men for bravery. 
Embodied love of penance drear, 
[036] Among the wise without a peer. 

Full well he knows, great Kusik's son, 

The arms celestial, every one, 

Arms from the Gods themselves concealed, 

Far less to other men revealed. 

These arms to him, when earth he swayed, 

Mighty Krisasva, pleased, conveyed. 

Krisasva's sons they are indeed, 

Brought forth by Daksha's lovely seed, 146 

Heralds of conquest, strong and bold, 

Brilliant, of semblance manifold. 

Jaya and Vijaya, most fair, 

And hundred splendid weapons bare. 

Of Jaya, glorious as the morn, 

First fifty noble sons were born, 

Boundless in size yet viewless too, 

They came the demons to subdue. 

And fifty children also came 

Of Vijaya the beauteous dame, 

Sanharas named, of mighty force, 

Hard to assail or check in course. 

Of these the hermit knows the use, 

And weapons new can he produce. 

All these the mighty saint will yield 

To Rama's hand, to own and wield; 



146 These mysterious animated weapons are enumerated in Cantos XXIX and 
XXX. Daksha was the son of Brahma and one of the Prajapatis, Demiurgi, or 
secondary authors of creation. 



Canto XXIV. The Spells. 1 17 

And armed with these, beyond a doubt 
Shall Rama put those fiends to rout. 
For Rama and the people's sake, 
For thine own good my counsel take, 
Nor seek, O King, with fond delay, 
The parting of thy son to stay." 



Canto XXIV. The Spells. 



Vasishtha thus was speaking still: 
The monarch, of his own free will, 
Bade with quick zeal and joyful cheer 
Rama and Lakshman hasten near. 
Mother and sire in loving care 
Sped their dear son with rite and prayer: 
Vasishtha blessed him ere he went; 
O'er his loved head the father bent, 
And then to Kusik's son resigned 
Rama with Lakshman close behind. 
Standing by Visvamitra's side, 
The youthful hero, lotus-eyed, 
The Wind-God saw, and sent a breeze 
Whose sweet pure touch just waved the trees. 
There fell from heaven a flowery rain, 
And with the song and dance the strain 
Of shell and tambour sweetly blent 
As forth the son of Raghu went. 
The hermit led: behind him came 
The bow-armed Rama, dear to fame, 



118 The Ramayana 

Whose locks were like the raven's wing: 147 
Then Lakshman, closely following. 
The Gods and Indra, filled with joy, 
Looked down upon the royal boy, 
And much they longed the death to see 
Of their ten-headed enemy. 148 
Rama and Lakshman paced behind 
That hermit of the lofty mind, 
As the young Asvins, 149 heavenly pair, 
Follow Lord Indra through the air. 
On arm and hand the guard they wore, 
Quiver and bow and sword they bore; 
Two fire-born Gods of War seemed they. 150 
He, Siva's self who led the way. 

Upon fair Sarju's southern shore 
They now had walked a league and more, 
When thus the sage in accents mild 
To Rama said: "Beloved child, 
This lustral water duly touch: 
My counsel will avail thee much. 
Forget not all the words I say, 



147 Youths of the Kshatriya class used to leave unshorn the side locks of their 
hair. These were called Kdka-paksha, or raven's wings. 

148 The Rakshas or giant Ravan, king of Lanka. 

149 "jjjg mean i n g of Asvins (from asva a horse, Persian asp, Greek i'lutoc,, Latin 
equus, Welsh ech) is Horsemen. They were twin deities of whom frequent 
mention is made in the Vedas and the Indian myths. The Asvins 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 Asvini, who is one of the lunar asterisms personified. In the popular 
mythology they are regarded as the physicians of the Gods." GORRESIO{FNS. 

150 The word Kumara (a young prince, a Childe) is also a proper name of 
Skanda or Kartikeya God of War, the son of Siva and Uma. 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 Rama 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 Sarju'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 Rama 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 Visvamitra came 
That store of holy works, to pay 

The worship saints may claim. 
Then to the hallowed spot they went 



"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 Savitri, a Vedic hymn to the 
Sun of wonderful beauty." GORRESIOJFNS. 



Canto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love. 121 

Along fair Sarjii's side 
Where mix her waters confluent 

With three-pathed Ganga'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, Rama, who in days gone by 

This calm retreat possessed. 
Kandarpa in apparent form, 

Called Kama 153 by the wise, 
Dared Uma's 154 new-wed lord to storm 

And make the God his prize. 
'Gainst Sthanu's 155 self, on rites austere 



152 Tripathaga, Three-path- go, flowing in heaven, on earth, and under the 
earth. See Canto XLV. 

153 Tennyson's "Indian Cama," the God of Love, known also by many other 
names. 

154 Umd, or Parvati, was daughter of Himalaya, Monarch of mountains, and 
wife of Siva. See Kalidasa's Kumdra Sambhava, or Birth of the War-God. 

155 Sthdnu. The Unmoving one, a name of Siva. 



122 The Ramayana 

And vows intent, 156 they say, 

His bold rash hand he dared to rear, 

Though Sthanu cried, Away! 
But the God's eye with scornful glare 

Fell terrible on him. 
[038] Dissolved the shape that was so fair 

And burnt up every limb. 
Since the great God's terrific rage 

Destroyed his form and frame, 
Kama in each succeeding age 

Has borne Ananga's 157 name. 
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 "jjj e p rac tice 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." GORRESIOJFNS. 



Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tadaka. 123 

Sacred to Kama, 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 Kusik's son the gift they gave 

That honoured guest should greet, 
Water they brought his feet to lave, 

And showed him honor meet. 
Rama and Lakshman 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 Tadaka. 

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, 
Rama and Lakshman heard the roar, 
That louder grew and louder yet, 
Of waves by dashing waters met. 
Then Rama asked the mighty seer: 
"What is the tumult that I hear 
Of waters cleft in mid career?" 
Soon as the speech of Rama, stirred 
By deep desire to know, he heard, 
The pious saint began to tell 
What paused the waters' roar and swell: 
"On high Kailasa's distant hill 

There lies a noble lake 
Whose waters, born from Brahma's will, 
The name of Manas 158 take. 
Thence, hallowing where'er they flow, 

The streams of Sarjii fall, 
And wandering through the plains below 

Embrace Ayodhya's wall. 
Still, still preserved in Sarjii's name 

Sarovar's 159 fame we trace. 
The flood of Brahma whence she came 



158 "A celebrated lake regarded in India as sacred. It lies in the lofty region 
between the northern highlands of the Himalayas and mount Kailasa, the region 
of the sacred lakes. The poem, following the popular Indian belief, makes 
the river Sarayii (now Sarjii) flow from the Manasa 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; 
manasa, mental, mind-born. 

159 Sarovar means best of lakes. This is another of the poet's fanciful etymolo- 
gies. 



Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tadaka. 125 

To run her holy race. 
To meet great Ganga 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: 
Dhao, Sal, Bignonia, Bel, are found, 
And every tree that grows on ground. 

How is the forest styled?" 



160 The confluence of two or more rivers is often a venerated and holy place. The 
most famous is Prayag or Allahabad, where the Sarasvati by an underground 
course is believed to join the Jumna and the Ganges. 

161 The botanical names of the trees mentioned in the text are Grislea Tormen- 
tosa, Shorea Robusta, Echites Antidysenterica, Bignonia Suaveolens, CEgle 
Marmelos, and Diospyrus Glutinosa. I have omitted the Kutaja (Echites) and 
the Tinduka (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 Karusha 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 Karusha's name 
Shall celebrate with deathless fame 

My malady and care." 162 



162 Here 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 Karusha 
appears to have a somewhat similar meaning. 



Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tadaka. 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, 
Tadaka, 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 Maricha 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 Rama, 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 Tadaka. 



When thus the sage without a peer 
Had closed that story strange to hear, 
Rama 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 Visvamitra 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. 
Tadaka named, most fair to see, 
A pearl among the maids was she, 
And matched, for such was Brahma'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, Maricha was his name, 
A giant, through a curse, became. 
[040] She, widowed, dared with him molest 



Canto XXVII. The Birth Of Tadaka. 129 

Agastya, 163 of 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 Maricha's doom: 
"A giant's form and shape assume." 
And then, by mighty anger swayed, 
On Tadaka 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, Rama, smite this monster dead, 
The wicked plague, of power so dread, 
And further by this deed of thine 
The good of Brahmans 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 "-pjjjg j s one f mose 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 Rama 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, Rama, slay this impious fiend, 
For by no law her life is screened. 
So Manthara, as bards have told, 
Virochan's child, was slain of old 
By Indra, when in furious hate 
She longed the earth to devastate. 
So Kavya's mother, Bhrigu's wife, 
Who loved her husband as her life, 
When Indra's throne she sought to gain, 
By Vishnu's hand of yore was slain. 
By these and high-souled kings beside, 
Struck down, have lawless women died." 



Canto XXVIII. The Death Of Tadaka. 



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 Tadaka who joys in ill, 

For such my sire's, and such thy will. 

To aid with mine avenging hand 

The Brahmans, kine, and all the land, 



Canto XXVIII. The Death Of Tadaka. 1 3 1 

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 Tadaka 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 Lakshman, 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 Rama 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 Rama burned with rage. 
Then pouring forth his arrowy rain 
[041] That stony flood to stay, 

With winged darts, as she charged amain, 

He shore her hands away. 
As Tadaka still thundered near 

Thus maimed by Rama's blows, 
Lakshman 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 Gadhi'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, Rama, 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 Tadaka. 133 

Then Rama, 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 Rama 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 Rama 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 Rama'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 



134 The Ramayana 

By great Krisasva 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 Rama's forehead pressed, 
And thus the conquering chief addressed: 
"O Rama 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 Dasaratha heard, 
Delighted, Visvamitra's word, 
And as he bade, that night he spent 
In Tadaka's wild wood, content. 
And the grove shone that happy day, 
Freed from the curse that on it lay, 
Like Chaitraratha 164 fair and gay. 



Canto XXIX. The Celestial Arms. 



164 The 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 Vishnu's arm of awful might: 

That, before which no foe can stand, 

The thunderbolt of Indra's hand; 

And Siva's trident, sharp and dread, 

And that dire weapon Brahma's Head. 

And two fair clubs, O royal child, 

One Charmer and one Pointed styled 

With flame of lambent fire aglow, 



165 "-pjjg w h i e of this Canto together with the following one, regards the belief, 
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. 



136 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 Varun ever loves to hold. 
Take these two thunderbolts, which I 
Have got for thee, the Moist and Dry. 
Here Siva's dart to thee I yield, 
And that which Vishnu 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 Kama 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 Visvakarma'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 Rama, 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 Rama with exulting cries: 
"O noblest child of Raghu, see, 
Thy ministers and thralls are we." 

With joyful heart and eager hand 
Rama received the wondrous band, 



138 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, 
Rama, 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, 
[043] And Bold and Fleet: the weapons named 



"In Sanskrit Sankdra, 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 Sankdras, 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; 

Krisasva'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 Rama, 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." 



140 The Ramayana 

To Rama 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 Vishnu 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 Vishnu 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 



167 I omit, after this line, eight slokes which, as Schlegel allows, are quite out 
of place. 



142 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 Vishnu'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, 
[044] And with the third through heaven he went. 

Thus was the king of demons hurled 
By Vishnu 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." 



168 This is the fifth of the avatars, descents or incarnations of Vishnu. 

169 This is a solar allegory. Vishnu 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 Rama 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 Visvamitra where 
As celebrant he sate beside 
The flame with sacred oil supplied. 



144 The Ramayana 

Canto XXXII. Visvamitra's Sacrifice. 

That conquering pair, of royal race, 
Skilled to observe due time and place, 
To Kusik'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 Diksha 170 has 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 Rama cried: "O Lakshman, 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." 



170 Certain ceremonies preliminary to a sacrifice. 



Canto XXXII. Visvamitra's Sacrifice. 145 

While thus spoke Rama 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, 
Maricha, Rover of the Night, 

Suvahu, and their train. 
As on they came in wild career 

Thick blood in rain they shed; 
And Rama 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 Rama lotus-eyed: 
"Now, Lakshman, 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, 

Maricha 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 Rama, when he saw the foe 

Convulsed and mad with pain 
Neath the chill-pointed weapon's blow, 

To Lakshman spoke again: 
"See, Lakshman, 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 Suvahu 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 Rama for his wondrous aid: 
So Indra is adored when he 
Has won some glorious victory. 
Success at last the rite had crowned, 
And Visvamitra 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 Visvamitra led, 
To Rama thus in answer said: 
"Janak the king who rules the land 
Of fertile Mithila 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 Mithila 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 Rama 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 Ganga's northern shore I go 
Beneath Himalaya'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 Sona's 171 distant 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. 

Rama and Lakshman lowly bowed 

In reverence to the hermit crowd, 

And Rama, 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 Rama, he 

Told forth the country's history. 



Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta. 



171 A river which rises in Budelcund and falls into the Ganges near Patna. It is 
called also Hiranyardhu, Golden-armed, and Hiranyardha, Auriferous. 



150 The Ramayana 

"A king of Brahma's seed who bore 
The name of Kusa 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's 172 monarchs 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. 
Kusamba, prince of high renown, 
Was builder of Kausambi's town, 
And Kusanabha, just and wise, 
Bade high Mahodaya's towers arise. 
Amurtarajas chose to dwell 
In Dharmaranya's citadel, 
And Vasu bade his city fair 
The name of Girivraja bear. 173 



173 According to the Bengal recension the first (Kusamba) is called Kusasva, 
and his city Kausasvf. This name does not occur elsewhere. The reading 
of the northern recension is confirmed by Foe Koue Ki; p. 385, where the 
city Kiaoshangmi is mentioned. It lay 500 lis to the south-west of Praydga, 
on the south bank of the Jumna. Mahodaya is another name of Kanyakubja: 
Dharmdranya, 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, 

Sumagadhi, 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 mseander 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 Ghritachi, nymph most fair, 
Married to Kusanabha, 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 Kusanabha, 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 
[047] They sought the palace of their sire, 



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." 



154 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 Kanyakubja's 174 borrowed name. 



174 That is, the City of the Bent Virgins, the modern Kanauj or Canouge. 



Canto XXXIV. Brahmadatta. 155 

There lived a sage called Chuli 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 Urmila drew near, 
Sweet Somada, 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, Chuli's spiritual child, 
His mother Brahmadatta 175 styled. 
King Brahmadatta, rich and great, 
In Kampili maintained his state, 
Ruling, like Indra in his bliss, 
His fortunate metropolis. 



175 Literally, Given by Brahma or devout contemplation. 



[048] 



156 The Ramayana 

King Kusanabha 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 Kusanabha 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 Kusanabha praised. 



Canto XXXV. Visvamitra's Lineage. 



Canto XXXV. Visvamitra'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 Kusa, Brahma's son, appeared, 
And thus King Kusanabha cheered: 
"Thou shalt, my child, obtain a son 
Like thine own self, O holy one. 
Through him for ever, Gadhi named, 
Shalt thou in all the worlds be famed." 
He spoke, and vanished from the sight 
To Brahma's world of endless light. 
Time fled, and, as the saint foretold, 
Gadhi was born, the holy-souled. 
My sire was he; through him I trace 
My line from royal Kusa's race. 
My sister — elder-born was she — 
The pure and good Satyavati, 176 
Was to the great Richfka 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 Himalaya'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 Himalaya's side I dwell 
Because I love my sister well. 



176 Now called Kosi (Cosy) corrupted from Kausikf, daughter of Kus]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 Rama, fain wouldst know. 
As I have sate rehearsing thus 
The midnight hour is come on us. 
Now, Rama, 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 Ganga. 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 Kusa's seed 
Were ever famed for righteous deed. 
Like Brahma's self in glory shine 
The high-souled lords of Kusa'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 Kausiki — 
Diffusing virtue where she flows, 
New splendour on thy lineage throws." 
Thus by the chief of saints addressed 
The son of Gadhi turned to rest; 
So, when his daily course is done, 
Sinks to his rest the beaming sun. 
Rama with Lakshman, 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 Ganga. 

The hours of night now waning fast 
On Sona's pleasant shore they passed. 
Then, when the dawn began to break, 
To Rama thus the hermit spake: 
"The light of dawn is breaking clear, 
The hour of morning rites is near. 



160 The Ramayana 

Rise, Rama, rise, dear son, I pray, 
And make thee ready for the way." 

Then Rama 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 Sona 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 
[049] Is that which pious hermits use." 

For many a league they journeyed on 
Till, when the sun of mid-day shone, 
The hermit-haunted flood was seen 
Of Mhnavi, 177 the Rivers' Queen. 
Soon as the holy stream they viewed, 
Thronged with a white-winged multitude 
Of sarases 178 and swans, 179 delight 
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 Visvamitra on the ground. 
The holy men of lesser note, 



177 One of the names of the Ganges considered as the daughter of Jahnu. See 
Canto XLIV. 

178 . 

179 Or, rather, geese. 



Canto XXXVI. The Birth Of Ganga. 1 6 1 

In due degree, sate more remote, 
While Raghu's sons took nearer place 
By virtue of their rank and race. 
Then Rama said: "O Saint, I yearn 
The three-pathed Ganga's tale to learn." 



Thus urged, the sage recounted both 
The birth of Ganga and her growth: 
"The mighty hill with metals stored, 
Himalaya, 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, 
Mena, Himalaya's darling, graced 
With beauty of her dainty waist. 
Ganga was elder-born: then came 
The fair one known by Uma's name. 
Then all the Gods of heaven, in need 
Of Ganga's help their vows to speed, 
To great Himalaya 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, 
Ganga whose waters cleanse and save, 
Who roams at pleasure, fair and free, 
Purging all sinners, to the sea. 
The three-pathed Ganga thus obtained, 
The Gods their heavenly homes regained. 
Long time the sister Uma passed 
In vows austere and rigid fast, 
And the king gave the devotee 



162 The Ramayana 

Immortal Rudra's 180 bride to be, 
Matching with that unequalled Lord 
His Uma 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 Ganga, King Himalaya'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 Uma, and the Birth of Kartikeya, 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 Rama's ear, 
And thus anew the holy man 
A legend to the prince began: 
"There reigned a pious monarch o'er 
Ayodhya 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, 
Kesini, famed from early youth 



Canto XXXIX. The Sons Of Sagar. 163 

For piety and love of truth. 

Arishtanemi'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 Himalaya'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 Brahman, 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 Kesini 

The mother of one heir would be. 

Sumati, sister of the king 181 

Of all the birds that ply the wing, 

To that illustrious Brahman 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, 182 O 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 Sarju's waves that hurried past, 

Laughing the while in cruel glee 



181 Garuda. 

182 Ikshvaku, the name of a king of Ayodhya 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. 1 65 

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 Ansuman, 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 Himalaya'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 declared 183 . 

His sacrifice the king prepared. 
And Ansuman 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 Madhyadesa or 
the middle region. 'The region situated between the Himalaya and the Vindhya 
Mountains ... is called Madhyadesa, or the middle region; the space comprised 
between these two mountains from the eastern to the western sea is called by 
sages Aryavartta, the seat of honourable men.' (MANUJFNS, II, 21, 22.) The 
Sanskrit Indians called themselves Aryans, which means honourable, noble, 
to distinguish themselves from the surrounding nations of different origin." 
GORRESIO{FNS 



Canto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth. 1 67 

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 



168 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 Jambudvip 184 
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. 

184 Said to be so called from the Jambu, or Rose Apple, abounding in it, and 
signifying according to the Puranas the central division of the world, the known 
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 Vasudeva, 185 who 
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, 187 freed 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, 



186 Kings are called the husbands of their kingdoms or of the earth; "She and 
his kingdom were his only brides." Raghuvansa. 

"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. 

187 The thirty-three Gods are said in the Aitareya Brdhmana, Book I. ch. II. 10. 
to be the eight Vasus, the eleven Rudras, the twelve Adityas, Prajapati, either 
Brahma or Daksha, and Vashatkara 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 
crowded with abstractions of every kind. Through the reverence with which the 
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 
[052] The charger back with triumphing." 

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 Virupaksha 188 vast of size, 
Upon whose head the broad earth lies: 
The mighty beast who earth sustains 



188 "One of the elephants which, according to an ancient belief popular in India, 
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 /Etna:" 

"adi semiustum fulmine corpus 
Urged mole hac, ingentemque insuper /Etnam 
Impositam, ruptis flammam expirare caminis; 
Et fessum quoties mutat latus, intre mere omnem 
iam, et caelum subtexere fumo." 

^Eneid. Lib. III. GORRESIOJFNS. 



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 Mahapadma 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. 



172 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 Vasudeva 190 standing 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 "jjjg fjevas 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 apardjitd, 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 Brdhmanam, Vol. II, p. 
33. 

The debts here spoken of are a man's religious obligations to the Gods, the 
Pitaras or Manes, and men. 



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 Ansuman 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 Garud, best beyond compare 
Of birds who wing the fields of air. 
Then thus unto the weeping man 
The son of Vinata 192 began: 
"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, 
Ganga 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." 



Garud was the son of Kasyap and Vinata. 



176 The Ramayana 

Prince Ansuman the strong and brave 
Followed the rede Suparna 193 gave. 
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. Bhagirath. 



When Sagar thus had bowed to fate, 
The lords and commons of the state 
Approved with ready heart and will 
Prince Ansuman his throne to fill. 
He ruled, a mighty king, unblamed, 
Sire of Dihpa justly famed. 

193 Garud. 



Canto XLIII. Bhagirath. 177 

To him, his child and worthy heir, 

The king resigned his kingdom's care, 

And on Himalaya's pleasant side 

His task austere of penance plied. 

Bright as a God in clear renown 

He planned to bring pure Ganga 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. 

Dihpa 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, Bhagirath named, 

Above all men for virtue famed. 

Dihpa 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 Bhagirath, 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 Gokarna 194 he 
Engaged in long austerity. 
With senses checked, with arms upraised, 
Five fires 195 around 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 Brahma'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." 

Bhagirath, 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 Ganga with her holy wave 



194 A famous and venerated region near the Malabar coast. 



Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Ganga. 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 Ikshvaku's race." 

The Sire, when thus the king had prayed, 
In sweet kind words his answer made. 
"High, high thy thought and wishes are, 
Bhagirath of the mighty car! 
Ikshvaku's line is blest in thee, 
And as thou prayest it shall be. 
Ganga, whose waves in Swarga 196 flow, 
Is daughter of the Lord of Snow. 
Win Siva 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 Maruts 197 went 
To heaven above the firmament. 



Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Ganga. 



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 Uma's lord, 198 
King of creation, world adored, 
Thus spoke to great Bhagirath: "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. 
Himalaya'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 Siva'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 Himalaya's woods, were spread 
[055] The tangles of his hair. 



Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Ganga. 1 8 1 

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: 
Bhagirath saw it, and anew 

His penance dire began. 
Then Siva, for the hermit's sake, 

Bade her long wanderings end, 
And sinking into Vindu's lake 

Her weary waves descend. 
From Ganga, by the God set free, 

Seven noble rivers came; 
Hladini, Pavani, and she 

Called Nalini by name: 
These rolled their lucid waves along 

And sought the eastern side. 
Suchakshu, SM 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 Bhagirath led. 
On Siva'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, 



199 The lake Vindu does not exist. Of the seven rivers here mentioned two only, 
the Ganges and the Sindhu or Indus, are known to geographers. Hladini means 
the Gladdener, Pavani the Purifier, Nalini the Lotus-Clad, and Suchakshu the 
Fair-eyed. 



1 82 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 Siva'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 Ganga. 1 83 

Then every spirit, sage, and bard, 

Condemned to earth by sentence hard, 

Pressed eagerly around the tide 

That Siva'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, 

Bhagirath, very glorious rode, 

And after him fair Ganga flowed. 

God, sage, and bard, the chief in place 

Of spirits and the Naga race, 

Nymph, giant, fiend, in long array 

Sped where Bhagirath led the way; 

And all the hosts the flood that swim 

Followed the stream that followed him. 

Where'er the great Bhagirath led, 

There ever glorious Ganga 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, 



1 84 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 Ganga through the world is styled 
Both Jahnavi 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 Ganga hied. 
He sought the depths which open lay 
Where Sagar's sons had dug their way. 
So leading through earth's nether caves 
[056] The river's purifying waves, 

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 Bhagirath said 
Brahma, 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 Ganga. 1 85 

So long shall Sagar's sons remain, 

And, godlike, rank in heaven retain. 

Ganga thine eldest child shall be, 

Called from thy name Bhagirathi; 

Named also — for her waters fell 

From heaven and flow through earth and hell — 

Tripathaga, 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 Ansuman, 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 Dilipa, 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 Ganga 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 Brahma 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 Bhagirath's gentle reign. 
Rich, prosperous, and blest were they, 
And grief and sickness fled away. 
Thus, Rama, I at length have told 
How Ganga 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. 1 87 

High and more high their wonder rose 
As the strange story reached its close, 
And thus, with Lakshman, Rama, best 
Of Raghu's sons, the saint addressed: 
"Most wondrous is the tale which thou 
Hast told of heavenly Ganga, 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 Kusik'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 Ganga's shore they lighted down, 
And saw Visala's lovely town. 
Thither, the princes by his side, 
The best of holy hermits hied. 
[057] It was a town exceeding fair 

That might with heaven itself compare. 
Then, suppliant palm to palm applied, 
Famed Rama 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 
Visala's ancient tale began: 
"List, Rama, 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 Age 200 had fled, 
Strong were the sons of Diti 201 bred; 
And Aditi's brave children too 
Were very mighty, good, and true. 
The rival brothers fierce and bold 
Were sons of Kasyap 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, 



200 The First or Golden Age. 



201 Diti and Aditi were wives of Kasyap, and mothers respectively of Titans 
and Gods. 



Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit. 1 89 

The counsel of the wise and great, 

To churn with might the milky sea 202 

The life-bestowing drink to free. 

This planned, they seized the Serpent King, 

Vasuki, 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 Sankar, 203 mighty lord, drew near. 

To Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed, 

"Save us, O save us, Lord!" they prayed. 

Then Vishnu, 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 Siva saw their wild affright, 

And heard his speech by whom is borne 



202 One of the seven seas surrounding as many worlds in concentric rings. 



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 
Siva, 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 Vishnu, 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 "Sarrigin, literally carrying a bow of horn, is a constantly recurring name 
of Vishnu. 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." SCHLEGELJFNS. 



Canto XLV. The Quest Of The Amrit. 191 

A thousand years had reached their close, 
When calmly from the ocean rose 
The gentle sage 205 with 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. [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 Sura, 207 Varun's maiden child. 

A fitting match she sought to find: 

But Diti's sons her love declined, 



05 Dhanvantari, the physician of the Gods. 



206 The 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 Goldstiicker thinks (Diet, s.v.) these 
divinities were originally personifications of the vapours which are attracted 
by the sun and form into mist or clouds. 

207 "Surd, 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 Brahmans 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 
Uchchaihsravas, 208 the 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 Vishnu clung. 



208 Literally, 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 Vishnu'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, 

Vishnu, 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, Vishnu, 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 Lakshmf is of considerable antiquity is 
evident from one of her names Kshirdbdhi-tanayd, 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 Lakshmf one thing only offends me, that she is said 
to have four arms. Each of Vishnu's arms, single, as far as the elbow, there 
branches into two; but Lakshmf in all the brass seals that I possess or remember 
to have seen has two arms only. Nor does this deformity of redundant limbs suit 
the pattern of perfect beauty." SCHLEGEL{FNS. I have omitted the offensive 
epithet. 



194 The Ramayana 

Then town-destroying 211 Indra 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 Kasyap spake, Maricha's son, 
[059] Her husband: "O thou glorious one! 

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." 



Canto XLVI. Diti's Hope. 195 

Then glorious Kasyap 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 Kasyap 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 



212 A 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." GORRESIOJFNS. 



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 Brahma's sphere assign, 
Let one, O Indra, watch o'er thine; 
And ranging through the lower air, 
The third the name of Vayu 214 bear. 
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 Mahendra 215 dwelt of old, 
This is the blessed region where 
His votaress mother claimed his care. 
Here gentle Alambusha bare 
To old Ikshvaku, king and sage, 
Visala, glory of his age, 
By whom, a monarch void of guilt, 
Was this fair town Visala built. [060] 



215 Indra, with mahd, great, prefixed. 



198 The Ramayana 

His son was Hemachandra, still 
Renowned for might and warlike skill. 
From him the great Suchandra came; 
His son, Dhumrasva, dear to fame. 
Next followed royal Srinjay; then 
Famed Sahadeva, lord of men. 
Next came Kusasva, good and mild, 
Whose son was Somadatta styled, 
And Sumati, his heir, the peer 
Of Gods above, now governs here. 
And ever through Ikshvaku's grace, 
Visala'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 Mithila to see." 



Then Sumati, the king, aware 
Of Visvamitra'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 Ahalya 199 

Canto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalya 

When mutual courtesies had past, 
Visala'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 Asvins 216 show, 
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 Mithila pursued their way. 



216 The Heavenly Twins. 



Not banished from heaven as the inferior Gods and demigods sometimes 



200 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 Rama 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 Rama, 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 Ahalya 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 Ahalya 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 Ahalya 20 1 

"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. 



202 The Ramayana 

This lonely grove thy home shall be, 

And not an eye thy form shall see. 

When Rama, Dasaratha'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 Himalaya's lovely heights 
Spent the long years in sternest rites." 



Canto XLIX. Ahalya Freed. 



Then Rama, following still his guide, 
Within the grove, with Lakshman, 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 



218 Kumarila says: "In the same manner, if it is said that Indra was the seducer 
of Ahalya this does not imply that the God Indra committed such a crime, 
but Indra means the sun, and Ahalya (from ahan and li) the night; and as the 
night is seduced and ruined by the sun of the morning, therefore is Indra called 
the paramour of Ahalya." MAX MULLER{FNS, History of Ancient Sanskrit 
Literature, p. 530. 



Canto XLIX. Ahalya Freed. 203 

Of Brahma 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 Rama 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 Rama lodged beneath that shade, 



204 The Ramayana 

And hasting there his homage paid. 
He took Ahalya to his side, 
From sin and folly purified, 
And let his new-found consort bear 
In his austerities a share. 

Then Rama, pride of Raghu's race, 
Welcomed by Gautam, face to face, 
Who every highest honour showed, 
To Mithila 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 Rama cried: 

"The high-souled king no toil has spared, 
But nobly for his rite prepared, 
How many thousand Brahmans 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 Brahman, let us find a place 
Where we may stay and rest a space." 
The hermit did as Rama prayed, 
[062] And in a spot his lodging made, 

Far from the crowd, sequestered, clear, 
With copious water flowing near. 



Canto L. Janak. 205 

Then Janak, best of kings, aware 
Of Visvamitra lodging there, 
With Satananda 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 Brahman, here with all 
These hermits to the festival. 
Twelve days, O Brahman Sage, remain — 
For so the learned priests ordain — 



206 The Ramayana 

And then, O heir of Kusik'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 Asvins 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." 

Thus spoke the monarch, lofty-souled, 
The saint, of heart unfathomed, told 
How, sons of Dasaratha, 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 XL VIII. 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. Visvamitra. 207 

Whence fair Visala's towers appeared: 
Ahalya 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 Visvamitra 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. Visvamitra. 



Wise Visvamitra's tale was done: 
Then sainted Gautam's eldest son, 
Great Satananda, 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 Rama, felt supreme delight. 
When Satananda 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 — 



208 The Ramayana 

Serve her great guest with woodland store, 
Whom all should honour evermore? 
Didst thou the tale to Rama 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 Rama'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 
[063] Had cleansed her from the taint of crime? 

And, son of Kusik, let me know, 
Did my great-minded father show 
Honour to Rama, 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 Renuka and Bhrigu's child, 
The saint and dame were reconciled." 

When the great sage had thus replied, 
To Rama Satananda 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 Brahman sage, most glorious-bright, 



Canto LI. Visvamitra. 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, Rama, 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 Kusa, king of earth. 
His son was Kusanabha, strong, 
Friend of the right, the foe of wrong. 
Gadhi, whose fame no time shall dim, 
Heir of his throne was born to him, 
And Visvamitra, Gadhi'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 Vasishtha's pure abode, 
Where trees, and flowers, and creepers glowed, 
Where troops of sylvan creatures fed; 



210 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 Brahmans 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 Brahma'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 Balakhilyas 220 went and came, 

Now breathed the prayer, now fed the flame: 

These, and ascetic bands beside, 

The sweet retirement beautified. 

Such was Vasishtha's blest retreat, 

Like Brahma's own celestial seat, 

Which gladdened Visvamitra's eyes, 

Peerless for warlike enterprise. 



Canto LII. Vasishtha's Feast. 



220 Divine personages of minute size produced from the hair of Brahma, and 
probably the origin of 

"That small infantry 
Warred on by cranes." 



Canto LII. Vasishtha's Feast. 21 1 

Right glad was Visvamitra 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 Visvamitra, noblest king, 
Received Vasishtha's welcoming, 
Turned to his host, and prayed him tell 
That he and all with him were well. 
Vasishtha 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 Brahma, 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?" 



[064] 



212 The Ramayana 

He spoke. The modest king replied 
That all was prosperous far and wide. 

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 Visvamitra, 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 Visvamitra 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. Visvamitra's Request. 213 

Him speaking thus Vasishtha stayed, 
And still to share his banquet prayed. 
The will of Gadhi'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 taste 221 as 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. Visvamitra's Request. 



221 Sweet, salt, pungent, bitter, acid, and astringent. 



214 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 Vasishtha's feast. 
Then Visvamitra, royal sage, 
Surrounded by his vassalage, 
Prince, peer, and counsellor, and all 
From highest lord to lowest thrall, 
Thus feasted, to Vasishtha 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. Visvamitra's Request. 215 

To me her rightful lord resign 

This Dapple-skin thou callest thine." 

The great Vasishtha, thus addressed, 
Arch-hermit of the holy breast, 
To Visvamitra 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. 

223 Ghf or clarified butter, "holy oil," being one of the essentials of sacrifice. 

224 "A Brahman 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 Brahman was to offer every day 
outside his house in the open air. MANU{FNS, Book III. 70." GORRESIO{FNS 

225 These were certain sacred words of invocation such a svdhd, vashat, etc., 
pronounced at the time of sacrifice. 



216 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 Brahmans, shall be thine; 
But let thy Dapple-skin be mine." 



Canto LIV. The Battle. 217 

The great Vasishtha, 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 Vasishtha 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. 
Vasishtha, 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 



218 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 Vasishtha 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 Brahma," 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 Brahman 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; 
[066] So is he mightier far than I." 



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 Brahman's might is mightier far. 

For Brahmans strength from Heaven derive, 

And warriors bow when Brahmans 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, 226 burning for the strife, 
King Visvamitra'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 Sakas are nomad tribes inhabiting Central Asia, the Scythes of the Greeks, 
whom the Persians also, as Herodotus tells us, called Sakae just as the Indians 
did. Lib. VII 64 6i yap Uipaai jravrac, roue, Eu9ac,. KaAeouoi laxac,. 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 ndKruec, 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 Sakas, fierce and dire. 
And all the ground was overspread 
With Yavans and with Sakas 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 Kambojas, 227 Barbars, 228 all, 
With Yavans, troubled, flee and fall. 



Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt. 



So o'er the field that host lay strown, 
By Visvamitra's darts o'erthrown. 
Then thus Vasishtha charged the cow: 
"Create with all thy vigour now." 



27 See page 13, note 6. 



228 Barbarians, non-Sanskrit-speaking tribes. 



Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt. 221 

Forth sprang Kambojas, 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 Sakas from her hinder parts. 
And every pore upon her fell, 
And every hair-producing cell, 
With Mlechchhas 229 and Kiratas 230 teemed, 
And forth with them Haritas streamed. 
And Visvamitra'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] 



229 A comprehensive term for foreign or outcast races of different faith and 
language from the Hindus. 

230 The Kiratas and Haritas 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 Himalaya's side he fled, 

Which bards and Nagas visited, 

And, Mahadeva's 231 grace to earn, 

He gave his life to penance stern. 

A lengthened season thus passed by, 

When Siva'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 Mahadeva 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 



231 The Great God, Siva. 



232 Nandi, the snow-white bull, the attendant and favourite vehicle of Siva. 



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 
Vasishtha 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 Visvamitra cast, 
To every side they turned and fled 
In hundreds forth disquieted. 
Vasishtha'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 Vasishtha's holy shade 
A solitary wild was made, 
Silent awhile, for not a sound 
Disturbed the hush that was around. 



224 The Ramayana 

Vasishtha then, with eager cry, 
Called, "Fear not, friends, nor seek to fly. 
This son of Gadhi 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. Visvamitra's Vow. 



But Visvamitra, at the threat 
Of that illustrious anchoret, 
Cried, as he launched with ready hand 
A fiery weapon, "Stand, O Stand!" 
Vasishtha, wild with rage and hate, 
Raising, as 'twere the Rod of Fate, 
His mighty Brahman wand on high, 
To Visvamitra made reply: 
"Nay, stand, O Warrior thou, and show 
What soldier can, 'gainst Brahman foe. 
O Gadhi's son, thy days are told; 
Thy pride is tamed, thy dart is cold. 
How shall a warrior's puissance dare 
With Brahman's awful strength compare? 
To-day, base Warrior, shall thou feel 
That God-sent might is more than steel." 
He raised his Brahman staff, nor missed 
The fiery dart that near him hissed: 



Canto LVI. Visvamitra's Vow. 225 

And quenched the fearful weapon fell, 
As flame beneath the billow's swell. 

Then Gadhi's son in fury threw 
Lord Varun'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 Brahma's noose, 
And that which waits for Varun's use: 
The dart he loves who wields the bow 
Pinaka, 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 Vishnu'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 Gadhi's son, when these had failed, 
With Brahma's dart his foe assailed. 
The Gods, with Indra at their head, 
And Nagas, 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 Brahman 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 Brahma, 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 Yama's sceptre, King below, 
Or like the lurid fire of Fate 
Whose rage the worlds will desolate. 



and Brahmanical 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 Brahmans 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 Visvamitra, 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 Brahman's power is truly might. 
This Brahman 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 Brahmanhood 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, 
Maharath, chariot-borne in fight, 
And Dridhanetra strong of sight. 



A thousand years had passed away, 
When Brahma, Sire whom all obey, 
Addressed in pleasant words like these 
Him rich in long austerities: 
"Thou by the penance, Kusik'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 Visvamitra 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, 
[069] With sternest zeal his vows renewed. 



Canto LVII. Trisanku. 229 

Then reigned a monarch, true of soul, 
Who kept each sense in firm control; 
Of old Ikshvaku's line he came, 
That glories in Trisanku's 234 name. 
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 Vasishtha's aid he sought, 
And told him of his secret thought. 
But wise Vasishtha showed the hope 
Was far beyond the monarch's scope. 
Trisanku then, his suit denied, 
Far to the southern region hied, 
To beg Vasishtha's sons to aid 
The mighty plan his soul had made. 
There King Trisanku, far renowned, 
Vasishtha's hundred children found, 
Each on his fervent vows intent, 
For mind and fame preeminent. 
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 "Trisanku, king of Ayodhya, was seventh in descent from Ikshvaku, and 
Dasarafha 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 Vasishtha and Visvamitra, actors in these occurences, still alive 
in Rama's time." 



230 The Ramayana 

But sage Vasishtha 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 Brahmans, 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. 
Ikshvaku'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. 



Trisanku'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 Trisanku, in asking the aid of Vasishtha's sons 
after applying in vain to their father, could be charged with resorting to another 
sdkhd (School) in the ordinary sense of that word; as it is not conceivable 
that the sons should have been of another Sakha from the father, whose cause 
they espouse with so much warmth. The commentator in the Bombay edition 



Canto LVIII. Trisanku Cursed. 23 1 

Ikshvaku'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!" 

Vasishtha's children heard, and guessed 
His evil purpose scarce expressed, 
And cried, while rage their bosoms burned, 

"Be to a vile Chandala 236 turned!" [070] 

This said, with lofty thoughts inspired, 
Each to his own retreat retired. 



explains the word Sdkhantaram as Yajanadina rakshantaram, 'one who by 
sacrificing for thee, etc., will be another protector.' Gorresio's Gauda 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. Mulam utsrijya kasmat tvam 
sakhasv ichhasi lambitum. 'Why, forsaking the root, dost thou desire to hang 
upon the branches?' " MUIR{FNS, Sanskrit Texts, Vol. I., p. 401. 
236 A Chandala was a man born of the illegal and impure union of a Sudra with 
a woman of one of the three higher castes. 



232 The Ramayana 

That night Trisanku 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 Visvamitra's side he sought, 
Whose treasures were by penance bought. 

The hermit with his tender eyes 
Looked on Trisanku'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, 
Ayodhya's mighty Sovereign, whom 
A curse has plagued with outcast's doom?" 
In vile Chandala 237 shape, the king 
Heard Visvamitra's questioning, 
And, suppliant palm to palm applied, 
With answering eloquence he cried: 



237 "jjj e Chandala was regarded as the vilest and most abject of the men sprung 
from wedlock forbidden by the law (Manavadharmasastra, 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 Kusik's son, by pity warmed, 
Spoke sweetly to the king transformed: 
"Hail! glory of Ikshvaku'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 Kusik'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 Vasishtha'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: 

Mahodaya 238 refused alone. [071] 

And now, O Chief of hermits, hear 
What answer, chilling us with fear, 
Vasishtha'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 Brahmans, eat his food, 
And think to win beatitude, 
By Visvamitra 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, 



238 This appellation, occuring nowhere else in the poem except as the name of 
a city, appears twice in this Canto as a name of Vasishtha. 



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 Yama'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 Visvamitra 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 Visvamitra, far-renowned, 

Addressed the saints who gathered round: 

"See by my side Trisanku stand, 

Ikshvaku'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 Visvamitra, wise and great, 
Spoke each to each in brief debate: 
"The breast of Kusik'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 Ikshvaku'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 Visvamitra 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 Visvamitra 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 Ikshvaku's son: 
"Behold my power, by penance won: 
Now by the might my merits lend, 
Ikshvaku'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, Trisanku, 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, 
Trisanku fell from fancied rest, 
And screaming in his swift descent, 
"O, save me, Hermit!" down he went. 
And Visvamitra 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 Visvamitra 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 Kusik, 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 
Trisanku 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 Trisanku shine; 
And all thy stars shall ever fling 
Their rays attendant on the king." 239 



239 "jjjg 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 Visvamitra 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 Visvamitra, 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's 241 wood where hermits rest, 



Visvamitra 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 "-pjjjg canno t re fer to the events just related: for Visvamitra was successful 
in the sacrifice performed for Trisanku. 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 Visvamitra 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." 
SCHLEGELJFNS. 

241 Near the modern city of Ajmere. The place is sacred still, and the name is 
preserved in the Hindi. Lassen, however, says that this Pushkala or Pushkara, 
called by the Grecian writers neuKeAmc,, 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 Ayodhya's throne, 
By Ambarisha'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 Brahman sped 
To Ambarisha's side, and said: 
"Gone is the steed, O King, and this 
[073] Is due to thee, in care remiss. 

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 Ikshvaku'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 Richfka 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 Brahman 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 Ambarisha, 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 Sunahsepha, 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 

Musalmans say, of Ishmael. 



242 'Ambarfsha is the twenty-ninth in descent from Ikshvaku, and is there- 
fore separated by an immense space of time from Trisanku in whose story 
Visvamitra had played so important a part. Yet Richfka, who is represented as 
having young sons while Ambarfsha 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 Visvamitra. 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. Ambarisha's Sacrifice. 245 

Canto LXII. Ambarisha'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 Sunahsepha rose, 
And hasting to the water's side 
His uncle Visvamitra 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 Visvamitra, 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. Ambarisha's Sacrifice. 247 

You, like Vasishtha'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 Vishnu'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 Ambarisha 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 Vishnu, pleased to hear 
The mystic laud, inclined his ear, 
And won by worship, swift to save, 



248 The Ramayana 

Long life to Sunahsepha 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 Visvamitra evermore. 
Pursued his task on Pushkar's shore 
Until a thousand years had past 
In fierce austerity and fast. 



Canto LXIII. Menaka. 



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 Brahma 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. Menaka. 249 

Thus spoke the Lord whom Gods revere, 
And sought again his heavenly sphere. 
But Visvamitra, more intent, 
His mind to sterner penance bent. 

So many a season rolled away, 
When Menaka, fair nymph, one day 
Came down from Paradise to lave 
Her perfect limbs in Pushkar's wave, 
The glorious son of Kusik 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's 243 might 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 Visvamitra woke to shame, 
And, fraught with anguish, memory came 
For quick he knew, with anger fired, 
That all the Immortals had conspired [075] 



243 The 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 Kausiki 244 , 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 "jjjg same as s jj e whose praises Visvamitra has already sung in Canto 
XXXV, and whom the poet brings yet alive upon the scene in Canto LXI. Her 
proper name was Satyavati (Truthful); the patronymic, Kausiki was preserved 
by the river into which she is said to have been changed, and is still recognized 
in the corrupted forms Kusa and Kusi. The river flows from the heights of 
the Himalaya 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, (Hiranyavaha) 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 (Gandaki), 
Cosoagum." SCHLEGEL{FNS. 



Canto LXIII. Menaka. 251 

And Gods and saints, for swift advice, 
Met in the halls of Paradise. 
"Let Kusik'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 preeminence." 
He to the General Sire replied, 
Not sad, nor wholly satisfied: 
"When thou, O Brahma, shalt declare 
The title, great beyond compare, 
Of Brahman 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 Brahma 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 Vishnu and the Gods with awe 
The labours of the hermit saw, 
And Sakra, 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 Rambha, fair of form, 
And spoke a speech for woe and weal, 
The saint to mar, the God to heal. 



Canto LXIV. Rambha. 



Canto LXIV. Rambha. 253 

"A great emprise, O lovely maid, 

To save the Gods, awaits thine aid: 

To bind the son of Kusik 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 Rambha, drive thy fears away, 

And as I bid do thou obey. 

In Koil'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 Kusik'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 Kusik'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 Brahman 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. Visvamitra's Triumph 255 

A Brahman'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. Visvamitra's Triumph 

Then from Himalaya'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 Brahman guise, 
Asked him for food with hungry eyes. 
The mighty saint, with steadfast soul, 
To the false Brahman 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 Naga 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. Visvamitra'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." 



Then all the Blest, by Brahma led, 
Approached the saint and sweetly said: 
"Hail, Brahman Saint! for such thy place: 
Thy vows austere have won our grace. 
A Brahman's rank thy penance stern 
And ceaseless labour richly earn. 
I with the Gods of Storm decree 
Long life, O Brahman 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 Brahman 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 Vasishtha, who excels 
In Warriors' art and mystic spells, 
In love of God without a peer, 
Confirm the boon you promise here." 



[077] 



258 The Ramayana 

With Brahma's son Vasishtha, 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 Brahmanhood." 
Thus spake the sage. The Gods, content, 
Back to their heavenly mansions went. 
And Visvamitra, pious-souled, 
Among the Brahman saints enrolled, 
On reverend Vasishtha 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 Brahmans 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 Brahman, versed in ancient lore, 
Thus closed his tale, and said no more, 
To Satananda Kusik'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, 
Rama 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 Visvamitra, 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 Dasaratha'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, Devarat by name, 
Who sixth from ancient Nimi came, 
Held it as ruler of the land, 
A pledge in his successive hand. 
[078] This bow the mighty Rudra bore 

At Daksha's 245 sacrifice of yore, 



245 "Daksha was one of the ancient Progenitors or Prajapatis created by Brah- 
ma. The sacrifice which is here spoken of and in which Sankar or Siva (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 Sita 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 Siva, to its increase and to the struggle it maintained with other older forms 
of worship." GORRESIO{FNS. 
246 Sita 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 Mithila the suitors pressed 
Their power and might to manifest. 
To all who came with hearts aglow 
I offered Siva'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 Mithila 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 "jjj e w h i e story of Sfta, 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 Rama's hand can string 
The bow that baffled lord and king, 
To him I give, as I have sworn, 
My Sita, 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." 



264 The Ramayana 

With suppliant palm to palm applied 
King Janak to the strangers cried: 
"This gem of bows, Brahman Sage, 
Our race has prized from age to age, 
Too strong for those who yet have reigned, 
[079] Though great in might each nerve they strained. 

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: 
"Rama, dear son, the bow behold." 
Then Rama 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 Rama stands alone: 
His peerless might he well has shown. 
A marvel has the hero wrought 
Beyond belief, surpassing thought. 
My child, to royal Rama 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 Sita shall be Rama's wife. 
If thou, O Brahman, leave concede, 
My counsellors, with eager speed, 
Borne in their flying cars, to fair 
Ayodhya'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." 



266 The Ramayana 

The hermit to his prayer inclined 
And Janak, lord of virtuous mind, 
With charges, to Ayodhya 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 Ayodhya's town at last. 

Then straight at Dasaratha'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 Kusik'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 Visvamitra 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 Rama broke in two 
The gem of bows, of monstrous size, 
That came a treasure from the skies. 
Ordained the prize of hero's might, 
Sita 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 Visvamitra's high consent." 
Such words with friendship eloquent 
Spoke Janak, fair Videha's king, 
By Satananda's counselling." 

The envoys thus the king addressed, 
And mighty joy his heart possessed. 
To Vamadeva quick he cried, 
Vasishtha, and his lords beside: 
"Lakshman, and he, my princely boy 
Who fills Kausalya's soul with joy, 
By Visvamitra 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, 



268 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. 
Vasishtha, Vamadeva sage, 
And Markandeya's reverend age, 
Javali, Kasyap's godlike seed, 
And wise Katyayana, 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 
Vasishtha, 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 Rama see." 

Then Dasaratha, 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, 



270 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. 



Rama and Lakshman thither sped, 
By sainted Visvamitra 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. 27 1 

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 Satananda so: 
"My brother, lord of glorious fame, 
My younger, Kusadhwaj by name, 
Whose virtuous life has won renown, 
Has settled in a lovely town, 
Sankasya, decked with grace divine, 
Whose glories bright as Pushpak's shine, 
While Ikshumati 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 Vishnu brings. 
Sankasya'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 Mithila he went. 
He paid to Janak reverence due, 



272 The Ramayana 

And holy Satananda 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 Sudaman, best 
Of councillors, their high behest: 
"Go, noble councillor," they cried, 
"And hither to our presence guide 
Ikshvaku's son, Ayodhya's lord, 
Invincible by foeman's sword, 
With both his sons, each holy seer, 
And every minister and peer." 
Sudaman 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 Ayodhya sways, 
My lord, whom Mithila 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 Ikshvaku's royal line. 
In every need, whate'er befall, 
The saint Vasishtha speaks for all. 
If Visvamitra 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 Vasishtha, speaker skilled. 
And to Videha's lord began 
In flowing words that holy man: 
"From viewless Nature Brahma rose, 
No change, no end, no waste he knows. 
A son had he Marichi styled, 
And Kasyap was Marichi's child. 
From him Vivasvat sprang: from him 
Manu whose fame shall ne'er be dim. 
Manu, who life to mortals gave, 
Begot Ikshvaku good and brave. 
First of Ayodhya'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 Vana, lord of might; 
His Anaranya, strong to fight. 
His son was Prithu, glorious name; 
From him the good Trisanku came. 
He left a son renowned afar, 
Known by the name of Dhundhumar. 
His son, who drove the mighty car, 
Was Yuvanasva, feared in war. 
He passed away. Him followed then 
His son Mandhata, king of men. 
His son was blest in high emprise, 
Susandhi, fortunate and wise. 
Two noble sons had he, to wit 
Dhruvasandhi and Prasenajit. 



274 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, Talajanghas styled, 

And Sasivindus, 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 Himalaya 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 Himalaya'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 Kalindi, 248 fairest 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, 



248 A 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, 

Sagar 249 she called her darling boy. 

To Sagar Asamanj was heir: 

Bright Ansuman his consort bare. 

Ansuman's son, Dilipa famed, 

Begot a son Bhagirath named. 

From him the great Kakutstha rose: 

From him came Raghu, feared by foes, 

Of him sprang Purushadak bold, 

Fierce hero of gigantic mould: 

Kalmashapada's name he bore, 

Because his feet were spotted o'er. 250 

From him came Sankan, and from him 

Sudarsan, fair in face and limb. 

From beautiful Sudarsan came 

Prince Agnivarna, bright as flame. 

His son was Sighraga, for speed 

Unmatched; and Maru was his seed. 

Prasusruka was Maru's child; 

His son was Ambarisha styled. 

Nahush was Ambarisha's heir, 

The mighty lord of regions fair: 

Nahush begot Yayati: he, 



249 This is another fanciful derivation, Sa — with, and gara — poison. 

250 Purushadak means a cannibal. First called Kalmdshapdda on account of 
his spotted feet he is said to have been turned into a cannibal for killing the son 
of Vasishtha. 



276 The Ramayana 

Nabhag of happy destiny. 

Son of Nabhag was Aja: his, 

The glorious Dasaratha is, 

Whose noble children boast to be 

Rama and Lakshman, whom we see. 

Thus do those kings of purest race 

Their lineage from Ikshvaku trace: 

Their hero lives the right maintained, 

Their lips with falsehood ne'er were stained. 

In Rama's and in Lakshman'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 Udavasu, 

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 Devarat, existence gave. 
King Devarat, a royal sage, 
For virtue, glory of the age, 
Begot Vrihadratha; and he 
Begot, his worthy heir to be, 
The splendid hero Mahabir 
Who long in glory governed here. 
His son was Sudhriti, a youth 
Firm in his purpose, brave in sooth, 
His son was Dhristaketu, blest 
With pious will and holy breast. 
The fame of royal saint he won: 
Haryasva was his princely son. 
Haryasva's son was Maru, who 
Begot Pratindhak, wise and true. 
Next Kirtiratha held the throne, 
His son, for gentle virtues known. 
Then followed Devamidha, then 
Vibudh, Mahandhrak, kings of men. 
Mahandhrak's son, of boundless might, 
Was Kirtirat, who loved the right. 
He passed away, a sainted king, 
And Maharoma following 
To Swarnaroma left the state. 
Then Hrasvaroma, good and great, 
Succeeded, and to him a pair 
Of sons his royal consort bare, 
Elder of these I boast to be: 
Brave Kusadhwaj 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 Ayodhya are partly theogonical and partly cosmogonical; the 



278 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 Kusadhwaj, the peer 
Of Gods, I ever held most dear. 
Then came Sankasya's mighty lord, 
Sudhanva, threatening siege and sword, 
And bade me swift on him bestow 
[083] Siva's incomparable bow, 

And Sita 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, 
Sudhanva, foremost of his band, 
Fell smitten by my single hand. 
When thus Sankasya'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 Sita be to Rama tied. 
And Urmila be Lakshman'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 Magha's 252 House takes harbourage; 
On the third night his rays benign 
In second Phalguni 253 will 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 Vasishtha Kusik's son, 
The mighty sage began his speech: 
"No mind may soar, no thought can reach 
The glories of Ikshvaku'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 Satrughna sue, 
Both princes of heroic mould, 
Wise, fair of form, and lofty-souled. 
All Dasaratha's sons, I ween, 



252 The tenth of the lunar asterisms, composed of five stars. 

253 There are two lunar asterisms of this name, one following the other 
immediately, forming the eleventh and twelfth of the lunar mansions. 



280 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, 
Ikshvaku's house with thine ally." 



The suit the holy sage preferred, 
With willing ear the monarch heard: 
Vasishtha'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 Dasaratha's house unites 
In bonds of love and marriage rites. 
So be it done. My nieces twain 
Let Bharat and Satrughna 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 Phalguni 
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 Dasaratha rules these towers 
E'en as Ayodhya now is ours. 
Do with your own whate'er ye choose: 
Your lordship here will none refuse." 



Canto LXXIII. The Nuptials. 28 1 

He spoke, and to Videha's king 
Thus Dasaratha, answering: 
"Boundless your virtues, lords, whose sway 
The realms of Mithila 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 Brahmans 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. 



282 The Ramayana 

On that same day that saw the king 
His gift of kine distributing, 
The lord of Kekaya's son, by name 
Yudhajit, 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 Ayodhya 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 Dasaratha went, 
Behind Vasishtha and the rest, 
To the fair ground for rites addressed. 
Then when the lucky hour was nigh 
Called Victory, of omen high, 
Came Rama, 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 Vasishtha sped, 



Canto LXXIII. The Nuptials. 283 

And to Videha's monarch said: 

"O King, Ayodhya'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 Vasishtha'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 Vasishtha spoke the king 
Of Mithila: "O mighty Sage, 
Now let this task thy care engage, 
And lend thine aid and counsel wise 
The nuptial rites to solemnize." 



284 The Ramayana 

The saint Vasishtha gave assent, 
And quickly to the task he went, 
With Visvamitra, nothing loth, 
And Satananda 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, Vasishtha came 
And laid the offering in the flame. 
Then by the hand King Janak drew 
His SM, beautiful to view, 
And placed her, bright in rich attire, 
Rama to face, before the fire, 
Thus speaking to the royal boy 
Who filled Kausalya's heart with joy: 
"Here Sita 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 Sita thus bestowed, 
O'er whom the sacred drops had flowed. 
King Janak's heart with rapture glowed. 
Then to Prince Lakshman thus he cried: 
"Take Urmila 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 Mandavi." 
Then to Satrughna: "In thy grasp 
The hand of Srutakirti 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 



286 The Ramayana 

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. Rama With The Axe. 254 



Soon as the night had reached its close 
The hermit Visvamitra rose; 
To both the kings he bade adieu 
And to the northern hill withdrew. 
Ayodhya'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. 



254 This is another Rama, son of Jamadagni, called Parasurama, or Rama 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. Rama 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 Mithila's sweet town 
Rode to his court and lighted down. 
Ayodhya'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 Vasishtha 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 Dasaratha'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," 



288 The Ramayana 

As he and Dasaratha 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 Kailasa'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 Siva's ever-conquering bow 
And Tripura in death laid low. 

When his wild form, that struck with awe, 
Fearful as ravening flame, they saw, 
Vasishtha 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 Rama! Rama! soft they cried. 
The gift he took, no word replied. 
Then Bhrigu's son his silence broke 
And thus to Rama Rama spoke: 



Canto LXXV. The Parle. 



"Heroic Rama, 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 Rama, show. 
This proof of prowess let me see — 
The weapon bent and drawn by thee; 



290 The Ramayana 

Then single fight our strength shall try, 
And this shall raise thy glory high." 



King Dasaratha 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, Brahman, 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 Kasyap's sway, 
And wentest far a grove to seek 
Beneath Mahendra's 255 mountain peak. 

Now, mighty Hermit, art thou here 

To slay us all with doom severe? 

For if alone my Rama fall, 

We share his fate and perish all." 



255 "jjjg au thor of the Raghuvansa places the mountain Mahendra in the territo- 
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. Raghuvansa, VI. 51." SCHLEGEL{FNS. 



Canto LXXV. The Parle. 291 

As thus the aged sire complained 
The mighty chief no answer deigned. 
To Rama 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 God 256 was 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 Vishnu 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 Vishnu'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 Siva strove with Vishnu there. 
But Vishnu raised his voice amain. 
And Siva'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. 

256 Siva. 



292 The Ramayana 

'Twas seen how Siva's bow has failed 
Unnerved, when Vishnu's might assailed, 
And Gods and heavenly sages thence 
To Vishnu gave preeminence. 
Then glorious Siva in his rage 
Gave it to Devarat 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 Richfka Vishnu lent 
To be a pledge and ornament, 
Then Jamadagni, Brahman 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, 
[087] Whose hand the God-given bow retained. 

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 Kasyap, 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 Rama, take: 
This, owned by Vishnu'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 Dasaratha 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." 



294 The Ramayana 

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 Brahman, still to be 
Most highly honoured, Chief, by me. 
For Visvamitra'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 Vishnu'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 Rama 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 Rama'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 Rama lotus-eyed, to speak: 

"When long ago I gave away 

The whole broad land to Kasyap'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 Rama, 'tis thy part 

To shoot afar that glorious dart: 

I, when the fatal shaft is shot, 

Will seek that hill and tarry not." 



296 The Ramayana 

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 
Rama, the mighty bow who raised. 
And Jamadagni's son, o'erawed. 
[088] Extolled his name with highest laud, 

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 Rama with a cheerful mind 
The bow to Varun'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 Ayodhya's town proceed 
In four-fold bands, with thee to lead." 



Canto LXXVII. Bharat's Departure. 297 

King Dasaratha thus addressed 
His lips to Rama'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 Ayodhya'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 Brahmans 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 Himalaya's mountain showed. 
And there Kausalya, noble queen, 
Sumitra with her lovely mien, 
Kaikeyi 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 Sita, lofty-fated dame, 
Urmila of the glorious fame, 
And Kusadhwaj's children fair, 
With joyous greeting and with prayer, 
As all in linen robes arrayed 



298 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 Kaikeyi born, 
And cried: "My son, within our gates 
Lord Yudhajit 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 Satrughna forth he fared. 
First to his sire he bade adieu, 
Brave Rama, and his mothers too. 
Lord Yudhajit 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 

Rama and Lakshman honoured still 
Their godlike sire with duteous will. 
Two constant guides for Rama 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 Rama grew 
To Dasaratha, Brahmans, all 
In town and country, great and small. 
And Rama 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 Kausalya bore, 

With this bright dame allied, 
Like Vishnu whom the Gods adore, 



300 The Ramayana 

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 
Satrughna slayer of his foes. 258 
There Bharat for a time remained 
With love and honour entertained, 
King Asvapati'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 Satrughna dear, 
Each Varun's match or Indra's peer. 



258 Satrughna means slayer of foes, and the word is repeated as an intensive 
epithet. 



302 The Ramayana 

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 Brahmans 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. 



259 Alluding to the images of Vishnu, which have four arms, the four princes 
being portions of the substance of that God. 



Canto I. The Heir Apparent. 303 

In art and science duly trained, 

His student vow he well maintained; 

He learnt the lore for princes fit, 

The Vedas and their Holy Writ, 

And with his well-drawn bow at last 

His mighty father's fame surpassed. 

Of birth exalted, truthful, just, 

With vigorous hand, with noble trust, 

Well taught by aged twice-born men 

Who gain and right could clearly ken, 

Full well the claims and bounds he knew 

Of duty, gain, and pleasure too: 

Of memory keen, of ready tact, 

In civil business prompt to act. 

Reserved, his features ne'er disclosed 

What counsel in his heart reposed. 

All idle rage and mirth controlled, 

He knew the times to give and hold, 

Firm in his faith, of steadfast will, 

He sought no wrong, he spoke no ill: 

Not rashly swift, not idly slow, 

His faults and others' keen to know. 

Each merit, by his subtle sense; 

He matched with proper recompense. 

He knew the means that wealth provide, 

And with keen eye expense could guide. 

Wild elephants could he reclaim, 

And mettled steeds could mount and tame. 

No arm like his the bow could wield, 

Or drive the chariot to the field. 

Skilled to attack, to deal the blow, 

Or lead a host against the foe: 

Yea, e'en infuriate Gods would fear 

To meet his arm in full career. 



304 The Ramayana 

As the great sun in noontide blaze 
Is glorious with his world of rays, 
So Rama with these virtues shone 
Which all men loved to gaze upon. 

The aged monarch fain would rest, 
And said within his weary breast, 
"Oh that I might, while living yet, 
My Rama o'er the kingdom set. 
And see, before my course be run, 
The hallowed drops anoint my son; 
See all this spacious land obey, 
From side to side, my first-born's sway, 
And then, my life and joy complete, 
Obtain in heaven a blissful seat!" 
In him the monarch saw combined 
The fairest form, the noblest mind, 
And counselled how his son might share, 
The throne with him as Regent Heir. 
For fearful signs in earth and sky, 
And weakness warned him death was nigh: 
But Rama to the world endeared 
[090] By every grace his bosom cheered, 

The moon of every eye, whose ray 
Drove all his grief and fear away. 
So duty urged that hour to seize, 
Himself, his realm, to bless and please. 

From town and country, far and near, 
He summoned people, prince, and peer. 
To each he gave a meet abode, 
And honoured all and gifts bestowed. 
Then, splendid in his king's attire, 
He viewed them, as the general Sire, 



Canto II. The People's Speech. 305 

In glory of a God arrayed, 
Looks on the creatures he has made. 
But Kekaya's king he called not then 
For haste, nor Janak, lord of men; 
For after to each royal friend 
The joyful tidings he would send. 
Mid crowds from distant countries met 
The king upon his throne was set; 
Then honoured by the people, all 
The rulers thronged into the hall. 
On thrones assigned, each king in place 
Looked silent on the monarch's face. 

Then girt by lords of high renown 

And throngs from hamlet and from town 

He showed in regal pride, 
As, honoured by the radiant band 
Of blessed Gods that round him stand, 
Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed. 



Canto II. The People's Speech. 



Then to the full assembly bowed 
The monarch, and addressed the crowd 
With gracious speech, in accents loud 
As heavenly drum or thunder-cloud: 



306 The Ramayana 

"Needs not to you who know declare 
How ever with paternal care 
My fathers of Ikshvaku's line 
Have ruled the realm which now is mine. 
I too have taught my feet to tread 
The pathway of the mighty dead, 
And with fond care that never slept 
Have, as I could, my people kept. 
So toiling still, and ne'er remiss 
For all my people's weal and bliss, 
Beneath the white umbrella's 260 shade. 
Old age is come and strength decayed. 
Thousands of years have o'er me flown, 
And generations round me grown 
And passed away. I crave at length 
Repose and ease for broken strength. 
Feeble and worn I scarce can bear 
The ruler's toil, the judge's care, 
With royal dignity, a weight 
That tries the young and temperate. 
I long to rest, my labour done, 
And in my place to set my son, 
If to the twice-born gathered here 
My counsel wise and good appear. 
For greater gifts than mine adorn 
Rama my son, my eldest-born. 
Like Indra brave, before him fall 
The foeman's cities, tower and wall. 
Him prince of men for power and might, 
The best maintainer of the right, 
Fair as the moon when nothing bars 
His glory close to Pushya's stars, 



260 Chief of the insignia of imperial dignity. 



Canto II. The People's Speech. 307 

Him with to-morrow's light I fain 
Would throne the consort of my reign. 
A worthy lord for you, I ween, 
Marked as her own by Fortune's Queen. 
The triple world itself would be 
Well ruled by such a king as he. 
To such high bliss and happy fate 
Will I the country dedicate, 
And my sad heart will cease to grieve 
If he the precious charge receive. 
Thus is my careful plan matured, 
Thus for myself is rest secured; 
Lieges, approve the words I say, 
Or point ye out some wiser way. 
Devise your prudent plan. My mind 
Is fondly to this thought inclined, 
But men by keen debating move 
Some middle course which all approve." 

The monarch ceased. In answer came 
The joyous princes' glad acclaim. 
So peacocks in the rain rejoice 
And hail the cloud with lifted voice. 
Murmurs of joy from thousands round 
Shook the high palace with the sound. 
Then when the gathered throng had learned 
His will who right and gain discerned, 
Peasant and townsman, priest and chief, 
All met in consultation brief, 
And soon agreed with one accord 
Gave answer to their sovereign lord: 
"King of the land, we know thee old: 
Thousands of years have o'er thee rolled, 
Rama thy son, we pray, anoint, 



308 The Ramayana 

And at thy side his place appoint 
Our gallant prince, so brave and strong, 
Riding in royal state along, 
Our eyes with joyful pride will see 
Screened by the shade that shelters thee." 
Then spake the king again, as though 
Their hearts' true wish he sought to know: 
"These prayers for Rama's rule suggest 
One question to my doubting breast. 
This thing, I pray, with truth explain: 
Why would ye, while I justly reign, 
That he, mine eldest son, should bear 
His part with me as ruling heir?" 
Then all the people made reply, 
Peasant and townsman, low and high: 
[091] "Each noblest gift of form and mind, 

O Monarch, in thy son we find. 
Do thou the godlike virtues hear 
Which Rama to our hearts endear. 
So richly blest with graces, none 
In all the earth excels thy son: 
Nay, who to match with him may claim 
In truth, in justice, and in fame? 
True to his promise, gentle, kind, 
Unenvious, of grateful mind, 
Versed in the law and firm of soul, 
He keeps each sense with strict control. 
With duteous care he loves to sit 
By Brahmans skilled in Holy Writ. 
Hence brightest glory, ne'er to end, 
And matchless fame his youth attend. 
Skilled in the use of spear and shield, 
And arms which heavenly warriors wield, 
Supreme in war, unconquered yet 



Canto II. The People's Speech. 309 

By man, fiend, God in battle met, 

Whene'er in pomp of war he goes 

'Gainst town or city of the foes, 

He ever comes with Lakshman back 

Victorious from the fierce attack. 

Returning homeward from afar 

Borne on his elephant or car, 

He ever to the townsmen bends 

And greets them as beloved friends, 

Asks how each son, each servant thrives, 

How fare our pupils, offerings, wives; 

And like a father bids us tell, 

Each for himself, that all is well. 

If pain or grief the city tries 

His heart is swift to sympathize. 

When festive scenes our thoughts employ 

He like a father shares the joy. 

High is the fate, O King, that gave 

Thy Rama born to bless and save, 

With filial virtues fair and mild 

Like Kasyap old Marichi's child. 

Hence to the kingdom's distant ends 

One general prayer for him ascends. 

Each man in town and country prays 

For Rama's strength, health, length of days. 

With hearts sincere, their wish the same, 

The tender girl, the aged dame, 

Subject and stranger, peasant, hind, 

One thought impressed on every mind, 

At evening and at dawning day 

To all the Gods for Rama pray. 

Do thou, O King, of grace comply, 

And hear the people's longing cry, 

And let us on the throne by thee 



310 The Ramay ana 

The lotus-tinted Rama see. 

O thou who givest boons, attend; 
A gracious ear, O Monarch, lend 
And for our weal install, 
Consenting to our earnest prayer, 
Thy godlike Rama Regent Heir, 
Who seeks the good of all." 



Canto III. Dasaratha's Precepts. 



The monarch with the prayer complied 
Of suppliant hands, on every side 
Uplifted like a lotus-bed: 
And then these gracious words he said: 
"Great joy and mighty fame are mine 
Because your loving hearts incline, 
In full assembly clearly shown 
To place my Rama on the throne." 
Then to Vasishtha, standing near, 
And Vamadeva loud and clear 
The monarch spoke that all might hear: 
"Tis pure and lovely Chaitra now 
When flowers are sweet on every bough; 
All needful things with haste prepare 
That Rama be appointed heir." 



Canto III. Dasaratha's Precepts. 311 

Then burst the people's rapture out 
In loud acclaim and joyful shout; 
And when the tumult slowly ceased 
The king addressed the holy priest: 
"Give order, Saint, with watchful heed 
For what the coming rite will need. 
This day let all things ready wait 
Mine eldest son to consecrate." 
Best of all men of second birth 
Vasishtha heard the lord of earth, 
And gave commandment to the bands 
Of servitors with lifted hands 
Who waited on their master's eye: 
"Now by to-morrow's dawn supply 
Rich gold and herbs and gems of price 
And offerings for the sacrifice, 
Wreaths of white flowers and roasted rice, 
And oil and honey, separate; 
New garments and a car of state, 
An elephant with lucky signs, 
A fourfold host in ordered lines, 
The white umbrella, and a pair 
Of chowries, 261 and a banner fair; 
A hundred vases, row on row, 
To shine like fire in splendid glow, 
A tiger's mighty skin, a bull 
With gilded horns most beautiful. 
All these, at dawn of coming day, 
Around the royal shrine array, 
Where burns the fire's undying ray. 
Each palace door, each city gate 
With wreaths of sandal decorate. 



261 Whisks, usually made of the long tails of the Yak. 



312 The Ramayana 

And with the garlands' fragrant scent 
Let clouds of incense-smoke be blent. 
Let food of noble kind and taste 
Be for a hundred thousand placed; 
Fresh curds with streams of milk bedewed 
[092] To feed the Brahman multitude. 

With care be all their wants supplied. 
And mid the twice-born chiefs divide 
Rich largess, with the early morn, 
And oil and curds and roasted corn. 
Soon as the sun has shown his light 
Pronounce the prayer to bless the rite, 
And then be all the Brahmans called 
And in their ordered seats installed. 
Let all musicians skilled to play, 
And dancing-girls in bright array 
Stand ready in the second ring 
Within the palace of the king. 
Each honoured tree, each holy shrine 
With leaves and flowery wreaths entwine, 
And here and there beneath the shade 
Be food prepared and presents laid. 
Then brightly clad, in warlike guise, 
With long swords girt upon their thighs, 
Let soldiers of the nobler sort 
March to the monarch's splendid court." 

Thus gave command the twice-born pair 
To active servants stationed there. 
Then hastened to the king and said 
That all their task was duly sped, 
The king to wise Sumantra spake: 
"Now quick, my lord, thy chariot take, 
And hither with thy swiftest speed 



Canto III. Dasaratha's Precepts. 313 

My son, my noble Rama lead." 

Sumantra, ere the word was given, 
His chariot from the court had driven, 
And Rama, best of all who ride 
In cars, came sitting by his side. 
The lords of men had hastened forth 
From east and west and south and north, 
Aryan and stranger, those who dwell 
In the wild wood and on the fell, 
And as the Gods to Indra, they 
Showed honour to the king that day. 

Like Vasav, when his glorious form 
Is circled by the Gods of storm, 
Girt in his hall by kings he saw 
His car-borne Rama near him draw, 
Like him who rules the minstrel band 
Of heaven; 262 whose valour filled the land, 
Of mighty arm and stately pride 
Like a wild elephant in stride, 
As fair in face as that fair stone 
Dear to the moon, of moonbeams grown, 2 
With noble gifts and grace that took 
The hearts of all, and chained each look, 
World-cheering as the Lord of Rain 
When floods relieve the parching plain. 
The father, as the son came nigh, 
Gazed with an ever-thirstier eye. 
Sumantra helped the prince alight 
From the good chariot passing bright, 



262 Chitraratha, King of the Gandharvas. 



263 The Chandrakanta or Moonstone, a sort of crystal supposed to be composed 
of congealed moonbeams. 



314 The Ramayana 

And as to meet his sire he went 

Followed behind him reverent. 

Then Rama clomb, the king to seek 

That terrace like Kailasa's peak, 

And reached the presence of the king, 

Sumantra closely following. 

Before his father's face he came, 

Raised suppliant hands and named his name, 264 

And bowing lowly as is meet 

Paid reverence to the monarch's feet. 

But soon as Dasaratha viewed 

The prince in humble attitude, 

He raised him by the hand in haste 

And his beloved son embraced, 

Then signed him to a glorious throne, 

Gem-decked and golden, near his own. 

Then Rama, best of Raghu's line, 

Made the fair seat with lustre shine 

As when the orient sun upsprings 

And his pure beam on Meru flings. 

The glory flashed on roof and wall, 

And with strange sheen suffused the hall, 

As when the moon's pure rays are sent 

Through autumn's star-lit firmament. 

Then swelled his breast with joy and pride 

As his dear son the father eyed, 

E'en as himself more fair arrayed 

In some clear mirror's face displayed. 

The aged monarch gazed awhile, 

Then thus addressed him with a smile, 

As Kasyap, whom the worlds revere, 

Speaks for the Lord of Gods to hear: 



264 A customary mark of respect to a superior. 



Canto III. Dasaratha's Precepts. 315 

"O thou of all my sons most dear, 

In virtue best, thy father's peer, 

Child of my consort first in place, 

Mine equal in her pride of race, 

Because the people's hearts are bound 

To thee by graces in thee found, 

Be thou in Pushya's favouring hour 

Made partner of my royal power. 

I know that thou by nature's bent 

Both modest art and excellent, 

But though thy gifts no counsel need 

My love suggests the friendly rede. 

Mine own dear son, be modest still, 

And rule each sense with earnest will. 

Keep thou the evils far away 

That spring from love and anger's sway. 

Thy noble course alike pursue 

In secret as in open view, 

And every nerve, the love to gain 

Of ministers and subjects, strain. 

The happy prince who sees with pride 

His thriving people satisfied; 

Whose arsenals with arms are stored, 

And treasury with golden hoard, — [093] 

His friends rejoice as joyed the Blest 

When Amrit crowned their eager quest. 

So well, my child, thy course maintain, 

And from all ill thy soul refrain." 

The friends of Rama, gathered nigh, 
Longing their lord to gratify, 
Ran to Kausalya's bower to tell 
The tidings that would please her well. 
She, host of dames, with many a gem, 



316 The Ramayana 

And gold, and kine rewarded them. 



Then Rama paid the reverence due, 
Mounted the chariot, and withdrew, 
And to his splendid dwelling drove 
While crowds to show him honour strove. 
The people, when the monarch's speech 

Their willing ears had heard, 
Were wild with joy as though on each 

Great gifts had been conferred. 
With meek and low salute each man 

Turned to his home away, 
And there with happy heart began 
To all the Gods to pray. 



Canto IV. Rama Summoned. 



The crowd dismissed, to high debate 
The monarch called his peers of state, 
And, counsel from their lips obtained, 
Firm in his will his will explained: 
"To-morrow with auspicious ray 
The moon in Pushy a's sign will stay; 
Be that the time with happy fate 
Mine eldest son to consecrate, 
And let my Rama, lotus-eyed, 
As Regent o'er the state preside." 



Canto IV. Rama Summoned. 317 

He sought, within, his charioteer, 
And cried "Again bring Rama here." 
To Rama's home Sumantra hied 
Again to be the prince's guide. 
His coming, told to Rama's ear, 
Suggested anxious doubt and fear. 
He bade the messenger be led 
That instant in, and thus he said: 
"Tell me the cause, omitting naught, 
Why thou again my house hast sought." 

The envoy answered: "Prince, thy sire 
Has sent thy presence to require. 
My sender known, 'tis thine to say 
If thou wilt go or answer nay." 
Then Rama, when he heard his speech, 
Made haste the royal court to reach. 
Soon as the monarch was aware 
His dearest son was waiting there, 
Eager the parley to begin 
He bade them lead the prince within, 
Soon as he passed the chamber door 
The hero bent him to the floor, 
And at a distance from his seat 
Raised his joined hands his sire to greet. 
The monarch raised him from the ground, 
And loving arms about him wound, 
Then pointed to a seat that shone 
With gold for him to rest upon. 
"Aged am I," he said, "and worn; 
In life's best joys my share have borne; 
Rites to the Gods, in hundreds, paid, 
With gifts of corn and largess made. 
I yearned for sons: my life is blest 



318 The Ramayana 

With them and thee of sons the best. 
No debt to saints or Brahmans, no, 
Nor spirits, Gods, or self I owe. 
One duty now remains alone, 
To set thee on thy father's throne. 
Now therefore, Rama, hear my rede, 
And mark my words with duteous heed: 
This day the peoples' general voice, 
Elects thee king of love and choice, 
And I, consenting to the prayer, 
Will make thee, darling, Regent Heir. 
Dread visions, each returning night, 
With evil omens scare my sight. 
Red meteors with a fearful sound 
Shoot wildly downward to the ground, 
While tempests lash the troubled air; 
And they who read the stars declare 
That, leagued against my natal sign, 
Rahu, 265 the Sun, 266 and Mars combine. 
When portents dire as these appear, 
A monarch's death or woe is near. 
Then while my senses yet are spared, 
And thought and will are unimpaired, 
Be thou, my son, anointed king: 
Men's fancy is a fickle thing. 
To-day the moon, in order due, 
Entered the sign Punarvasu, 267 
To-morrow, as the wise foretell, 



265 Rahu, the ascending node, is in mythology a demon with the tail of a dragon 
whose head was severed from his body by Vishnu, but being immortal, the 
head and tail retained their separate existence and being transferred to the stellar 
sphere became the authors of eclipses; the first especially by endeavouring to 
swallow the sun and moon. 

266 In eclipse. 



Canto IV. Rama Summoned. 319 

In Pushy a's favouring stars will dwell: 

Then on the throne shalt thou be placed. 

My soul, prophetic, counsels haste: 

Thee, O my son, to-morrow I 

As Regent Heir will sanctify. 

So till the coming night be passed 

Do thou and Sita strictly fast: 

From worldly thoughts thy soul refrain, 

And couched on holy grass remain. [094] 

And let thy trusted lords attend 

In careful watch upon their friend, 

For, unexpected, check and bar 

Our weightiest counsels often mar. 

While Bharat too is far away 

Making with royal kin his stay, 

I deem the fittest time of all 

Thee, chosen Regent, to install. 

It may be Bharat still has stood 

True to the counsels of the good, 

Faithful to thee with tender trust, 

With governed senses, pure and just. 

But human minds, too well I know, 

Will sudden changes undergo, 

And by their constant deeds alone 

The virtue of the good is shown. 

Now, Rama, go. My son, good night! 

Fixt is to-morrow for the rite." 

Then Rama paid the reverence due, 
And quickly to his home withdrew. 
He passed within, nor lingered there, 
But sought his mother's mansion, where 
The dame in linen robes arrayed 
Devoutly in the chapel prayed 



320 The Ramayana 

To Fortune's Queen, with utterance checked, 
That she her Rama would protect. 
There was Sumitra too, and there 
Was Lakshman led by loving care: 
And when the royal choice they knew 
Sita in haste was summoned too. 
Absorbed, with half-shut eyes, the queen 
Attended by the three was seen. 
She knew that Pushya's lucky hour 
Would raise her son to royal power, 
So fixed with bated breath each thought 
On God supreme, by all men sought. 
To her, as thus she knelt and prayed, 
Rama drew near, due reverence paid, 
And then to swell his mother's joy, 
Thus spoke her own beloved boy; 
"O mother dear, my sire's decree 
Entrusts the people's weal to me. 
To-morrow I, for so his will, 
Anointed king, the throne shall fill. 
The few last hours till night shall end 
Sita with me must fasting spend, 
For so my father has decreed, 
And holy priests with him agreed. 
What vows soever thou mayst deem 
My consecration's eve beseem, 
Do thou, sweet mother, for my sake 
And for beloved Sita's make." 

When the glad news Kausalya heard, 
So long desired, so long deferred, 
While tears of joy her utterance broke, 
In answer to her son she spoke: 
"Long be thy life, my darling: now 



Canto IV. Rama Summoned. 321 

Thy prostrate foes before thee bow. 
Live long and with thy bright success 
My friends and dear Sumitra's bless. 
Surely the stars were wondrous fair 
When thee, sweet son, thy mother bare, 
That thy good gifts such love inspire 
And win the favour of thy sire. 
With thee I travailed not in vain; 
Those lotus eyes reward my pain, 
And all the glory of the line 
Of old Ikshvaku will be thine." 



He smiled, and on his brother gazed 
Who sate with reverent hands upraised, 
And said: "My brother, thou must be 
Joint-ruler of this land with me. 
My second self thou, Lakshman, art, 
And in my fortune bearest part. 
Be thine, Sumitra's son, to know 
The joys from regal power that flow. 
My life itself, the monarch's seat, 
For thy dear sake to me are sweet." 



Thus Rama to his brother said, 
To both his mothers 268 bowed his head, 
And then with Sita by his side 
To his own house the hero hied. 



268 Kausalya and Sumitra. 



322 The Ramayana 

Canto V. Rama's Fast. 



Then Saint Vasishtha to the king 

Came ready at his summoning. 

"Now go," exclaimed the monarch, "thou 

Enriched by fervent rite and vow, 

For Rama and his wife ordain 

The fast, that joy may bless his reign." 



The best of those who Scripture know 
Said to the king, "My lord, I go." 
To Rama's house Vasishtha hied, 
The hero's fast by rule to guide, 
And skilled in sacred texts to tell 
Each step to him instructed well. 
Straight to Prince Rama's high abode, 
That like a cloud pale-tinted showed, 
Borne in his priestly car he rode. 
Two courts he passed, and in the third 
He stayed his car. Then Rama heard 
The holy sage was come, and flew 
To honour him with honour due. 
He hastened to the car and lent 
His hand to aid the priest's descent. 
Then spoke Vasishtha words like these, 
Pleased with his reverent courtesies, 
With pleasant things his heart to cheer 
Who best deserved glad news to hear: 
"Prince, thou hast won thy father's grace, 
And thine will be the Regent's place: 
Now with thy Sita, as is right, 
[095] In strictest fasting spend the night, 



Canto V. Rama's Fast. 323 

For when the morrow's dawn is fair 
The king will consecrate his heir: 
So Nahush, 269 as the wise relate, 
Yayati joyed to consecrate." 

Thus having said, Vasishtha next 
Ordained the fast by rule and text, 
For Rama faithful to his vows 
And the Videhan dame his spouse. 
Then from the prince's house he hied 
With courteous honours gratified. 
Round Rama gathered every friend 
In pleasant talk a while to spend. 
He bade good night to all at last, 
And to his inner chamber passed. 
Then Rama's house shone bright and gay 
With men and maids in glad array, 
As in the morning some fair lake 
When all her lotuses awake, 
And every bird that loves the flood 
Flits joyous round each opening bud. 

Forth from the house Vasishtha drove, 
That with the king's in splendour strove, 
And all the royal street he viewed 
Filled with a mighty multitude 
The eager concourse blocked each square, 
Each road and lane and thoroughfare, 
And joyous shouts on every side 
Rose like the roar of Ocean's tide, 
As streams of men together came 
With loud huzza and glad acclaim. 
The ways were watered, swept and clean, 



269 A king of the Lunar race, and father of Yayati. 



324 The Ramayana 

And decked with flowers and garlands green 
And all Ayodhya shone arrayed 
With banners on the roofs that played. 
Men, women, boys with eager eyes, 
Expecting when the sun should rise, 
Stood longing for the herald ray 
Of Rama's consecration day, 
To see, a source of joy to all, 
The people-honoured festival. 

The priest advancing slowly through 
The mighty crowd he cleft in two, 
Near to the monarch's palace drew. 
He sought the terrace, by the stair, 
Like a white cloud-peak high in air, 
The reverend king of men to meet 
Who sate upon his splendid seat: 
Thus will Vrihaspati arise 
To meet the monarch of the skies. 
But when the king his coming knew, 
He left his throne and near him drew 
Questioned by him Vasishtha said 
That all his task was duly sped. 
Then all who sate there, honouring 
Vasishtha, rose as rose the king. 
Vasishtha bade his lord adieu, 
And all the peers, dismissed, withdrew. 
Then as a royal lion seeks 
His cave beneath the rocky peaks, 
So to the chambers where abode 
His consorts Dasaratha strode. 

Full-thronged were those delightful bowers 
With women richly dressed, 

And splendid as the radiant towers 



Canto VI. The City Decorated. 325 

Where Indra loves to rest. 
Then brighter flashed a thousand eyes 

With the light his presence lent, 
As, when the moon begins to rise 

The star thronged firmament. 



Canto VI. The City Decorated. 

Then Rama bathed in order due, 

His mind from worldly thoughts withdrew, 

And with his large-eyed wife besought 

Narayan, as a votary ought. 

Upon his head the brimming cup 

Of holy oil he lifted up, 

Then placed within the kindled fire 

The offering to that heavenly Sire, 

And as he sipped the remnant prayed 

To Him for blessing and for aid. 

Then with still lips and tranquil mind 

With his Videhan he reclined, 

In Vishnu's chapel, on a bed 

Where holy grass was duly spread, 

While still the prince's every thought 

The God supreme, Narayan, sought. 

One watch remained the night to close 

When Rama from his couch arose, 

And bade the men and maids adorn 

His palace for the solemn morn. 

He heard the bards and heralds raise 

Auspicious strains of joy and praise; 

And breathed devout, with voice restrained, 



326 The Ramayana 

The hymn for morning rites ordained; 
Then, with his head in reverence bowed, 
Praised Madhu's conquering foe aloud, 
And, in pure linen robes arrayed, 
The priests to raise their voices prayed. 
Obedient to the summons they 
Proclaimed to all the festal day. 
The Brahmans' voices, deep and sweet, 
Resounded through the crowded street, 
And echoed through Ayodhya went 
By many a loud-toned instrument. 
Then all the people joyed to hear 
That Rama with his consort dear 
Had fasted till the morning light 
In preparation for the rite. 
Swiftly the joyful tidings through 
Ayodhya's crowded city flew, 
And soon as dawn appeared, each man 
[096] To decorate the town began. 

In all the temples bright and fair 

As white clouds towering in the air, 

In streets, and where the cross-ways met, 

Where holy fig-trees had been set, 

In open square, in sacred shade, 

Where merchants' shops their wealth displayed, 

On all the mansions of the great, 

And householders of wealth and state, 

Where'er the people loved to meet, 

Where'er a tree adorned the street, 

Gay banners floated to the wind, 

And ribands round the staves were twined. 

Then clear the singers' voices rang, 

As, charming mind and ear, they sang. 

Here players shone in bright attire, 



Canto VI. The City Decorated. 327 

There dancing women swelled the quire. 
Each with his friend had much to say 
Of Rama's consecration-day: 
Yea, even children, as they played 
At cottage doors beneath the shade. 
The royal street with flowers was strown 
Which loving hands in heaps had thrown, 
And here and there rich incense lent 
Its fragrance to the garland's scent; 
And all was fresh and fair and bright 
In honour of the coming rite. 
With careful foresight to illume 
With borrowed blaze the midnight gloom, 
The crowds erected here and there 
Trees in each street gay lamps to bear. 
The city thus from side to side 
In festal guise was beautified. 
The people of the town who longed 
To view the rite together thronged, 
And filling every court and square 
Praised the good king in converse there: 
"Our high-souled king! He throws a grace 
On old Ikshvaku's royal race. 
He feels his years' increasing weight, 
And makes his son associate. 
Great joy to us the choice will bring 
Of Rama for our lord and king. 
The good and bad to him are known, 
And long will he protect his own. 
No pride his prudent breast may swell, 
Most just, he loves his brothers well, 
And to us all that love extends, 
Cherished as brothers and as friends. 
Long may our lord in life remain, 



328 The Ramayana 

Good Dasaratha, free from stain, 
By whose most gracious favour we 
Rama anointed king shall see." 

Such were the words the townsmen spoke 
Heard by the gathering countryfolk, 
Who from the south, north, east, and west, 
Stirred by the joyful tidings, pressed. 
For by their eager longing led 
To Rama's consecration sped 
The villagers from every side, 
And filled Ayodhya's city wide. 
This way and that way strayed the crowd, 
While rose a murmur long and loud, 
As when the full moon floods the skies 
And Ocean's waves with thunder rise. 

That town, like Indra's city fair, 
While peasants thronged her ways, 

Tumultuous roared like Ocean, where 
Each flood-born monster plays. 



Canto VII. Manthara's Lament. 



It chanced a slave-born handmaid, bred 
With Queen Kaikeyi, fancy-led, 
Mounted the stair and stood upon 
The terrace like the moon that shone. 
Thence Manthara at ease surveyed 
Ayodhya to her eyes displayed, 
Where water cooled the royal street, 
Where heaps of flowers were fresh and sweet, 



Canto VII. Manthara's Lament. 329 

And costly flags and pennons hung 
On roof and tower their shadow flung; 
With covered ways prepared in haste, 
And many an awning newly placed; 
With sandal-scented streams bedewed, 
Thronged by a new bathed multitude: 
Whose streets were full of Brahman bands 
With wreaths and sweetmeats in their hands. 
Loud instruments their music raised, 
And through the town, where'er she gazed, 
The doors of temples glittered white, 
And the maid marvelled at the sight. 



Of Rama's nurse who, standing by, 
Gazed with a joy-expanded eye, 
In robes of purest white attired, 
The wondering damsel thus inquired: 



"Does Rama's mother give away 
Rich largess to the crowds to-day, 
On some dear object fondly bent, 
Or blest with measureless content? 
What mean these signs of rare delight 
On every side that meet my sight? 
Say, will the king with joy elate 
Some happy triumph celebrate?" 



330 The Ramayana 

The nurse, with transport uncontrolled, 
Her glad tale to the hump-back told: 
"Our lord the king to-morrow morn 
Will consecrate his eldest-born, 
And raise, in Pushya's favouring hour, 
Prince Rama to the royal power." 
As thus the nurse her tidings spoke, 
Rage in the hump-back's breast awoke. 
Down from the terrace, like the head 
Of high Kailasa's hill, she sped. 
Sin in her thoughts, her soul aflame, 
[097] Where Queen Kaikeyi slept, she came: 

"Why sleepest thou?" she cried, "arise, 
Peril is near, unclose thine eyes. 
Ah, heedless Queen, too blind to know 
What floods of sin above thee flow ! 
Thy boasts of love and grace are o'er: 
Thine is the show and nothing more. 
His favour is an empty cheat, 
A torrent dried by summer's heat." 

Thus by the artful maid addressed 
In cruel words from raging breast, 
The queen, sore troubled, spoke in turn; 
"What evil news have I to learn? 
That mournful eye, that altered cheek 
Of sudden woe or danger speak." 

Such were the words Kaikeyi said: 
Then Manthara, her eyeballs red 
With fury, skilled with treacherous art 
To grieve yet more her lady's heart, 
From Rama, in her wicked hate, 
Kaikeyi's love to alienate, 



Canto VII. Manthara's Lament. 331 

Upon her evil purpose bent 

Began again most eloquent: 

"Peril awaits thee swift and sure, 

And utter woe defying cure; 

King Dasaratha will create 

Prince Rama Heir Associate. 

Plunged in the depths of wild despair, 

My soul a prey to pain and care, 

As though the flames consumed me, zeal 

Has brought me for my lady's weal, 

Thy grief, my Queen, is grief to me: 

Thy gain my greatest gain would be. 

Proud daughter of a princely line, 

The rights of consort queen are thine. 

How art thou, born of royal race, 

Blind to the crimes that kings debase? 

Thy lord is gracious, to deceive, 

And flatters, but thy soul to grieve, 

While thy pure heart that thinks no sin 

Knows not the snares that hem thee in. 

Thy husband's lips on thee bestow 

Soft soothing word, an empty show: 

The wealth, the substance, and the power 

This day will be Kausalya's dower. 

With crafty soul thy child he sends 

To dwell among thy distant friends, 

And, every rival far from sight, 

To Rama gives the power and might. 

Ah me! for thou, unhappy dame, 

Deluded by a husband's name, 

With more than mother's love hast pressed 

A serpent to thy heedless breast, 

And cherished him who works thee woe, 

No husband but a deadly foe. 



332 The Ramayana 

For like a snake, unconscious Queen, 

Or enemy who stabs unseen, 

King Dasaratha all untrue 

Has dealt with thee and Bharat too. 

Ah, simple lady, long beguiled 

By his soft words who falsely smiled! 

Poor victim of the guileless breast, 

A happier fate thou meritest. 

For thee and thine destruction waits 

When he Prince Rama consecrates. 

Up, lady, while there yet is time; 

Preserve thyself, prevent the crime. 

Up, from thy careless ease, and free 

Thyself, O Queen, thy son, and me!" 

Delighted at the words she said, 
Kaikeyi lifted from the bed, 
Like autumn's moon, her radiant head, 
And joyous at the tidings gave 
A jewel to the hump-back slave; 
And as she gave the precious toy 
She cried in her exceeding joy: 
"Take this, dear maiden, for thy news 
Most grateful to mine ear, and choose 
What grace beside most fitly may 
The welcome messenger repay. 
I joy that Rama gains the throne: 
Kausalya's son is as mine own." 



Canto VIII. Manthara's Speech. 



Canto VIII. Manthara's Speech. 333 

The damsel's breast with fury burned: 

She answered, as the gift she spurned: 

"What time, O simple Queen, is this 

For idle dreams of fancied bliss? 

Hast thou not sense thy state to know, 

Engulfed in seas of whelming woe; 

Sick as I am with grief and pain 

My lips can scarce a laugh restrain 

To see thee hail with ill-timed joy 

A peril mighty to destroy. 

I mourn for one so fondly blind: 

What woman of a prudent mind 

Would welcome, e'en as thou hast done, 

The lordship of a rival's son, 

Rejoiced to find her secret foe 

Empowered, like death, to launch the blow; 

I see that Rama still must fear 

Thy Bharat, to his throne too near. 

Hence is my heart disquieted, 

For those who fear are those we dread. 

Lakshman, the mighty bow who draws, 

With all his soul serves Rama's cause; 

And chains as strong to Bharat bind 

Satrughna, with his heart and mind, 

Now next to Rama, lady fair, 

Thy Bharat is the lawful heir: 

And far remote, I ween, the chance 

That might the younger two advance. 

Yes, Queen, 'tis Rama that I dread, 

Wise, prompt, in warlike science bred; 

And oh, I tremble when I think 

Of thy dear child on ruin's brink. [098] 

Blest with a lofty fate is she, 

Kausalya; for her son will be 



334 The Ramayana 

Placed, when the moon and Pushya meet, 
By Brahmans on the royal seat, 
Thou as a slave in suppliant guise 
Must wait upon Kausalya's eyes, 
With all her wealth and bliss secured 
And glorious from her foes assured. 
Her slave with us who serve thee, thou 
Wilt see thy son to Rama bow, 
And Sita's friends exult o'er all, 
While Bharat's wife shares Bharat's fall." 

As thus the maid in wrath complained, 
Kaikeyi saw her heart was pained, 
And answered eager in defence 
Of Rama's worth and excellence: 
"Nay, Rama, born the monarch's heir, 
By holy fathers trained with care, 
Virtuous, grateful, pure, and true, 
Claims royal sway as rightly due. 
He, like a sire, will long defend 
Each brother, minister, and friend. 
Then why, O hump-back, art thou pained 
To hear that he the throne has gained? 
Be sure when Rama's empire ends, 
The kingdom to my son descends, 
Who, when a hundred years are flown, 
Shall sit upon his fathers' throne. 
Why is thine heart thus sad to see 
The joy that is and long shall be, 
This fortune by possession sure 
And hopes which we may count secure? 
Dear as the darling son I bore 
Is Rama, yea, or even more. 
Most duteous to Kausalya, he 



Canto VIII. Manthara's Speech. 335 

Is yet more dutiful to me. 
What though he rule, we need not fear: 
His brethren to his soul are dear. 
And if the throne Prince Rama fill 
Bharat will share the empire still." 

She ceased. The troubled damsel sighed 
Sighs long and hot, and thus replied: 
"What madness has possessed thy mind, 
To warnings deaf, to dangers blind? 
Canst thou not see the floods of woe 
That threaten o'er thine head to flow: 
First Rama will the throne acquire, 
Then Rama's son succeed his sire, 
While Bharat will neglected pine 
Excluded from the royal line. 
Not all his sons, O lady fair, 
The kingdom of a monarch share: 
All ruling when a sovereign dies 
Wild tumult in the state would rise. 
The eldest, be he good or ill, 
Is ruler by the father's will. 
Know, tender mother, that thy son 
Without a friend and all undone, 
Far from the joyous ease of home 
An alien from his race will roam. 
I sped to thee for whom I feel, 
But thy fond heart mistakes my zeal, 
Thy hand a present would bestow 
Because thy rival triumphs so. 
When Rama once begins his sway 
Without a foe his will to stay, 
Thy darling Bharat he will drive 
To distant lands if left alive. 



336 The Ramayana 

By thee the child was sent away 

Beneath his grandsire's roof to stay. 

Even in stocks and stones perforce 

Will friendship spring from intercourse. 

The young Satrughna too would go 

With Bharat, for he loved him so. 

As Lakshman still to Rama cleaves, 

He his dear Bharat never leaves. 

There is an ancient tale they tell: 

A tree the foresters would fell 

Was saved by reeds that round it stood, 

For love that sprang of neighbourhood. 

So Lakshman Rama will defend, 

And each on each for aid depend. 

Such fame on earth their friendship wins 

As that which binds the Heavenly Twins. 

And Rama ne'er will purpose wrong 

To Lakshman, for their love is strong. 

But Bharat, Oh, of this be sure, 

Must evil at his hands endure. 

Come, Rama from his home expel 

An exile in the woods to dwell. 

The plan, O Queen, which I advise 

Secures thy weal if thou be wise. 

So we and all thy kith and kin 

Advantage from thy gain shall win. 

Shall Bharat, meet for happier fate, 

Born to endure his rival's hate, 

With all his fortune ruined cower 

And dread his brother's mightier power! 

Up, Queen, to save thy son, arise; 

Prostrate at Rama's feet he lies. 

So the proud elephant who leads 

His trooping consorts through the reeds 



Canto IX. The Plot. 337 

Falls in the forest shade beneath 
The lion's spring and murderous teeth. 
Scorned by thee in thy bliss and pride 
Kausalya was of old defied, 
And will she now forbear to show 
The vengeful rancour of a foe? 

O Queen, thy darling is undone 

When Rama's hand has once begun 
Ayodhya's realm to sway, 

Come, win the kingdom for thy child 

And drive the alien to the wild 
In banishment to-day." 



Canto IX. The Plot. 



As fury lit Kaikeyi's eyes 

She spoke with long and burning sighs: [099] 

"This day my son enthroned shall see, 

And Rama to the woods shall flee. 

But tell me, damsel, if thou can, 

A certain way, a skilful plan 

That Bharat may the empire gain, 

And Rama's hopes be nursed in vain." 

The lady ceased. The wicked maid 
The mandate of her queen obeyed, 
And darkly plotting Rama's fall 
Responded to Kaikeyi's call. 



338 The Ramayana 

"I will declare, do thou attend, 
How Bharat may his throne ascend. 
Dost thou forget what things befell? 
Or dost thou feign, remembering well? 
Or wouldst thou hear my tongue repeat 
A story for thy need so meet? 
Gay lady, if thy will be so, 
Now hear the tale of long ago, 
And when my tongue has done its part 
Ponder the story in thine heart. 
When Gods and demons fought of old, 
Thy lord, with royal saints enrolled, 
Sped to the war with thee to bring 
His might to aid the Immortals' King. 
Far to the southern land he sped 
Where Dandak's mighty wilds are spread, 
To Vaijayanta's city swayed 
By Sambara, whose flag displayd 
The hugest monster of the sea. 
Lord of a hundred wiles was be; 
With might which Gods could never blame 
Against the King of Heaven he came. 
Then raged the battle wild and dread, 
And mortal warriors fought and bled; 
The fiends by night with strength renewed 
Charged, slew the sleeping multitude. 
Thy lord, King Dasaratha, long 
Stood fighting with the demon throng, 
But long of arm, unmatched in strength, 
Fell wounded by their darts at length. 
Thy husband, senseless, by thine aid 
Was from the battle field conveyed, 
And wounded nigh to death thy lord 
Was by thy care to health restored. 



Canto IX. The Plot. 339 

Well pleased the grateful monarch sware 

To grant thy first and second prayer. 

Thou for no favour then wouldst sue, 

The gifts reserved for season due; 

And he, thy high-souled lord, agreed 

To give the boons when thou shouldst need. 

Myself I knew not what befell, 

But oft the tale have heard thee tell, 

And close to thee in friendship knit 

Deep in my heart have treasured it. 

Remind thy husband of his oath, 

Recall the boons and claim them both, 

That Bharat on the throne be placed 

With rites of consecration graced, 

And Rama to the woods be sent 

For twice seven years of banishment. 

Go, Queen, the mourner's chamber 270 seek, 

With angry eye and burning cheek; 

And with disordered robes and hair 

On the cold earth lie prostrate there. 

When the king comes still mournful lie, 

Speak not a word nor meet his eye, 

But let thy tears in torrent flow, 

And lie enamoured of thy woe. 

Well do I know thou long hast been, 

And ever art, his darling queen. 

For thy dear sake, O well-loved dame, 

The mighty king would brave the flame, 

But ne'er would anger thee, or brook 

To meet his favourite's wrathful look. 

Thy loving lord would even die 



270 Literally the chamber of wrath, a "growlery," a small, dark, unfurnished 
room to which it seems, the wives and ladies of the king betook themselves 
when offended and sulky. 



340 The Ramayana 

Thy fancy, Queen, to gratify, 
And never could he arm his breast 
To answer nay to thy request. 
Listen and learn, O dull of sense, 
Thine all-resistless influence. 
Gems he will offer, pearls and gold: 
Refuse his gifts, be stern and cold. 
Those proffered boons at length recall, 
And claim them till he grants thee all. 
And O my lady, high in bliss, 
With heedful thought forget not this. 
When from the ground his queen he lifts 
And grants again the promised gifts, 
Bind him with oaths he cannot break 
And thy demands unflnching, make. 
That Rama travel to the wild 
Five years and nine from home exiled, 
And Bharat, best of all who reign, 
The empire of the land obtain. 
For when this term of years has fled 
Over the banished Rama's head, 
Thy royal son to vigour grown 
And rooted firm will stand alone. 
The king, I know, is well inclined, 
And this the hour to move his mind. 
Be bold: the threatened rite prevent, 
And force the king from his intent." 

She ceased. So counselled to her bane 
Disguised beneath a show of gain, 
Kaikeyi in her joy and pride 
To Manthara again replied: 
"Thy sense I envy, prudent maid; 
With sagest lore thy lids persuade. 



Canto IX. The Plot. 341 

No hump-back maid in all the earth, 

For wise resolve, can match thy worth. 

Thou art alone with constant zeal 

Devoted to thy lady's weal. 

Dear girl, without thy faithful aid 

I had not marked the plot he laid. [ioo] 

Full of all guile and sin and spite 

Misshapen hump-backs shock the sight: 

But thou art fair and formed to please, 

Bent like a lily by the breeze. 

I look thee o'er with watchful eye, 

And in thy frame no fault can spy; 

The chest so deep, the waist so trim, 

So round the lines of breast and limb. 271 

Thy cheeks with moonlike beauty shine, 

And the warm wealth of youth is thine. 

Thy legs, my girl, are long and neat, 

And somewhat long thy dainty feet, 

While stepping out before my face 

Thou seemest like a crane to pace. 

The thousand wiles are in thy breast 

Which Sambara the fiend possessed, 

And countless others all thine own, 

O damsel sage, to thee are known. 

Thy very hump becomes thee too, 

O thou whose face is fair to view, 

For there reside in endless store 

Plots, wizard wiles, and warrior lore. 

A golden chain I'll round it fling 

When Rama's flight makes Bharat king: 

Yea, polished links of finest gold, 

When once the wished for prize I hold 



271 In these four lines I do not translate faithfully, and I do not venture to follow 
Kaikeyi farther in her eulogy of the hump-back's charms. 



342 The Ramayana 

With naught to fear and none to hate, 
Thy hump, dear maid, shall decorate. 
A golden frontlet wrought with care, 
And precious jewels shalt thou wear: 
Two lovely robes around thee fold, 
And walk a Goddess to behold, 
Bidding the moon himself compare 
His beauty with a face so fair. 
With scent of precious sandal sweet 
Down to the nails upon thy feet, 
First of the household thou shalt go 
And pay with scorn each battled foe." 

Kaikeyi's praise the damsel heard, 
And thus again her lady stirred, 
Who lay upon her beauteous bed 
Like fire upon the altar fed: 
"Dear Queen, they build the bridge in vain 
When swollen streams are dry again. 
Arise, thy glorious task complete, 
And draw the king to thy retreat." 

The large-eyed lady left her bower 
Exulting in her pride of power, 
And with the hump-back sought the gloom 
And silence of the mourner's room. 
The string of priceless pearls that hung 
Around her neck to earth she flung, 
With all the wealth and lustre lent 
By precious gem and ornament. 
Then, listening to her slave's advice, 
Lay, like a nymph from Paradise. 
As on the ground her limbs she laid 
Once more she cried unto the maid: 



Canto IX. The Plot. 343 

"Soon must thou to the monarch say 
Kaikeyfs soul has past away, 
Or, Rama banished as we planned, 
My son made king shall rule the land. 
No more for gold and gems I care, 
For brave attire or dainty fare. 
If Rama should the throne ascend, 
That very hour my life will end." 

The royal lady wounded through 
The bosom with the darts that flew 

Launched from the hump-back's tongue 
Pressed both her hands upon her side, 
And o'er and o'er again she cried 

With wildering fury stung: 
"Yes, it shall be thy task to tell 
That I have hurried hence to dwell 

In Yama's realms of woe, 
Or happy Bharat shall be king, 
And doomed to years of wandering 

Kausalya's son shall go. 
I heed not dainty viands now 
Fair wreaths of flowers to twine my brow, 

Soft balm or precious scent: 
My very life I count as naught, 
Nothing on earth can claim my thought 

But Rama's banishment." 

She spoke these words of cruel ire; 
Then stripping off her gay attire, 

The cold bare floor she pressed. 
So, falling from her home on high, 
Some lovely daughter of the sky 

Upon the ground might rest. 
With darkened brow and furious mien, 



344 The Ramayana 

Stripped of her gems and wreath, the queen 

In spotless beauty lay, 
Like heaven obscured with gathering cloud, 
When shades of midnight darkness shroud 

Each star's expiring ray. 



Canto X. Dasaratha's Speech. 

As Queen Kaikeyi thus obeyed 
The sinful counsel of her maid 
She sank upon the chamber floor, 
As sinks in anguish, wounded sore, 
An elephant beneath the smart 
Of the wild hunter's venomed dart. 
The lovely lady in her mind 
Revolved the plot her maid designed, 
And prompt the gain and risk to scan 
She step by step approved the plan. 
Misguided by the hump-back's guile 
She pondered her resolve awhile, 
As the fair path that bliss secured 
[ioi] The miserable lady lured, 

Devoted to her queen, and swayed 

By hopes of gain and bliss, the maid 

Rejoiced, her lady's purpose known, 

And deemed the prize she sought her own. 

Then bent upon her purpose dire, 

Kaikeyi with her soul on fire, 

Upon the floor lay, languid, down, 

Her brows contracted in a frown. 

The bright-hued wreath that bound her hair, 



Canto X. Dasaratha's Speech. 345 

Chains, necklets, jewels rich and rare, 

Stripped off by her own fingers lay 

Spread on the ground in disarray, 

And to the floor a lustre lent 

As stars light up the firmament. 

Thus prostrate in the mourner's cell, 

In garb of woe the lady fell, 

Her long hair in a single braid, 

Like some fair nymph of heaven dismayed. 272 

The monarch, Rama to install, 
With thoughtful care had ordered all, 
And now within his home withdrew, 
Dismissing first his retinue. 
Now all the town has heard, thought he, 
What joyful rite the morn will see. 
So turned he to her bower to cheer 
With the glad news his darling's ear. 
Majestic, as the Lord of Night, 
When threatened by the Dragon's might, 
Bursts radiant on the evening sky 
Pale with the clouds that wander by, 
So Dasaratha, great in fame, 
To Queen Kaikeyfs palace came. 
There parrots flew from tree to tree, 
And gorgeous peacocks wandered free, 
While ever and anon was heard 
The note of some glad water-bird. 
Here loitered dwarf and hump-backed maid, 
There lute and lyre sweet music played. 



272 These verses are evidently an interpolation. They contain nothing that has 
not been already related: the words only are altered. As the whole poem could 
not be recited at once, the rhapsodists at the beginning of a fresh recitation 
would naturally remind their hearers of the events immediately preceding. 



346 The Ramayana 

Here, rich in blossom, creepers twined 

O'er grots with wondrous art designed, 

There Champac and Asoka flowers 

Hung glorious o'er the summer bowers, 

And mid the waving verdure rose 

Gold, silver, ivory porticoes. 

Through all the months in ceaseless store 

The trees both fruit and blossom bore. 

With many a lake the grounds were graced; 

Seats gold and silver, here were placed; 

Here every viand wooed the taste, 

It was a garden meet to vie 

E'en with the home of Gods on high. 

Within the mansion rich and vast 

The mighty Dasaratha passed: 

Not there was his beloved queen 

On her fair couch reclining seen. 

With love his eager pulses beat 

For the dear wife he came to meet, 

And in his blissful hopes deceived, 

He sought his absent love and grieved. 

For never had she missed the hour 

Of meeting in her sumptuous bower, 

And never had the king of men 

Entered the empty room till then. 

Still urged by love and anxious thought 

News of his favourite queen he sought, 

For never had his loving eyes 

Found her or selfish or unwise. 

Then spoke at length the warder maid, 

With hands upraised and sore afraid: 

"My Lord and King, the queen has sought 

The mourner's cell with rage distraught." 



Canto X. Dasaratha's Speech. 347 

The words the warder maiden said 
He heard with soul disquieted, 
And thus as fiercer grief assailed, 
His troubled senses wellnigh failed. 
Consumed by torturing fires of grief 
The king, the world's imperial chief, 
His lady lying on the ground 
In most unqueenly posture, found. 
The aged king, all pure within, 
Saw the young queen resolved on sin, 
Low on the ground, his own sweet wife, 
To him far dearer than his life, 
Like some fair creeping plant uptorn, 
Or like a maid of heaven forlorn, 
A nymph of air or Goddess sent 
From Swarga down in banishment. 

As some wild elephant who tries 
To soothe his consort as she lies 
Struck by the hunter's venomed dart, 
So the great king disturbed in heart, 
Strove with soft hand and fond caress 
To soothe his darling queen's distress, 
And in his love addressed with sighs 
The lady of the lotus eyes: 
"I know not, Queen, why thou shouldst be 
Thus angered to the heart with me. 
Say, who has slighted thee, or whence 
Has come the cause of such offence 
That in the dust thou liest low, 
And rendest my fond heart with woe, 
As if some goblin of the night 
Had struck thee with a deadly blight, 
And cast foul influence on her 



348 The Ramayana 

Whose spells my loving bosom stir? 
I have Physicians famed for skill, 
Each trained to cure some special ill: 
My sweetest lady, tell thy pain, 
And they shall make thee well again. 
Whom, darling, wouldst thou punished see? 
[102] Or whom enriched with lordly fee? 

Weep not, my lovely Queen, and stay 
This grief that wears thy frame away; 
Speak, and the guilty shall be freed. 
The guiltless be condemned to bleed, 
The poor enriched, the rich abased, 
The low set high, the proud disgraced. 
My lords and I thy will obey, 
All slaves who own thy sovereign sway; 
And I can ne'er my heart incline 
To check in aught one wish of thine. 
Now by my life I pray thee tell 
The thoughts that in thy bosom dwell. 
The power and might thou knowest well, 
Should from thy breast all doubt expel. 
I swear by all my merit won, 
Speak, and thy pleasure shall be done. 
Far as the world's wide bounds extend 
My glorious empire knows no end. 
Mine are the tribes in eastern lands, 
And those who dwell on Sindhu's sands: 
Mine is Surashtra, far away, 
Suvira's realm admits my sway. 
My best the southern nations fear, 
The Angas and the Vangas hear. 
And as lord paramount I reign 
O'er Magadh and the Matsyas' plain, 



Canto XI. The Queen's Demand. 349 

Kosal, and Kasi's wide domain: 273 

All rich in treasures of the mine, 

In golden corn, sheep, goats, and kine. 

Choose what thou wilt. Kaikeyi, thence: 

But tell me, O my darling, whence 

Arose thy grief, and it shall fly 

Like hoar-frost when the sun is high." 

She, by his loving words consoled, 
Longed her dire purpose to unfold, 
And sought with sharper pangs to wring 
The bosom of her lord the king. 



Canto XI. The Queen's Demand. 

To him enthralled by love, and blind, 

Pierced by his darts who shakes the mind, 274 

Kaikeyi with remorseless breast 

Her grand purpose thus expressed: 

"O King, no insult or neglect 

Have I endured, or disrespect. 

One wish I have, and faith would see 

That longing granted, lord, by thee. 

Now pledge thy word if thou incline 

To listen to this prayer of mine, 

Then I with confidence will speak, 

And thou shalt hear the boon I seek." 



273 The sloka or distich which I have been forced to expand into these nine lines 
is evidently spurious, but is found in all the commented MSS. which Schlegel 
consulted. 

274 Manmatha, Mind-disturber, a name of Kama or Love. 



350 The Ramayana 

Ere she had ceased, the monarch fell, 
A victim to the lady's spell, 
And to the deadly snare she set 
Sprang, like a roebuck to the net. 
Her lover raised her drooping head, 
Smiled, playing with her hair, and said: 
"Hast thou not learnt, wild dame, till now 
That there is none so dear as thou 
To me thy loving husband, save 
My Rama bravest of the brave? 
By him my race's high-souled heir, 
By him whom none can match, I swear, 
Now speak the wish that on thee weighs: 
By him whose right is length of days, 
Whom if my fond paternal eye 
Saw not one hour I needs must die, — 
I swear by Rama my dear son, 
Speak, and thy bidding shall be done. 
Speak, darling; if thou choose, request 
To have the heart from out my breast; 
Regard my words, sweet love, and name 
The wish thy mind thinks fit to frame. 
Nor let thy soul give way to doubt: 
My power should drive suspicion out. 
Yea, by my merits won I swear, 
Speak, darling, I will grant thy prayer." 

The queen, ambitious, overjoyed 
To see him by her plot decoyed, 
More eager still her aims to reach, 
Spoke her abominable speech: 
"A boon thou grantest, nothing loth, 
And swearest with repeated oath. 
Now let the thirty Gods and three 



Canto XI. The Queen's Demand. 351 

My witnesses, with Indra, be. 
Let sun and moon and planets hear, 
Heaven, quarters, day and night, give ear. 
The mighty world, the earth outspread, 
With bards of heaven and demons dread; 
The ghosts that walk in midnight shade, 
And household Gods, our present aid, 
A every being great and small 
To hear and mark the oath I call." 

When thus the archer king was bound, 
With treacherous arts and oaths enwound, 
She to her bounteous lord subdued 
By blinding love, her speech renewed: 
"Remember, King, that long-past day 
Of Gods' and demons' battle fray. 
And how thy foe in doubtful strife 
Had nigh bereft thee of thy life. 
Remember, it was only I 
Preserved thee when about to die, 
And thou for watchful love and care 
Wouldst grant my first and second prayer. 
Those offered boons, pledged with thee then, 

I now demand, O King of men, [103] 

Of thee, O Monarch, good and just, 
Whose righteous soul observes each trust. 
If thou refuse thy promise sworn, 
I die, despised, before the morn. 
These rites in Rama's name begun — 
Transfer them, and enthrone my son. 
The time is come to claim at last 
The double boon of days long-past, 
When Gods and demons met in fight, 
And thou wouldst fain my care requite. 



352 The Ramayana 

Now forth to Dandak's forest drive 
Thy Rama for nine years and five, 
And let him dwell a hermit there 
With deerskin coat and matted hair. 
Without a rival let my boy 
The empire of the land enjoy, 
And let mine eyes ere morning see 
Thy Rama to the forest flee." 



Canto XII. Dasaratha's Lament. 



The monarch, as Kaikeyi pressed 
With cruel words her dire request, 
Stood for a time absorbed in thought 
While anguish in his bosom wrought. 
"Does some wild dream my heart assail? 
Or do my troubled senses fail? 
Does some dire portent scare my view? 
Or frenzy's stroke my soul subdue?" 
Thus as he thought, his troubled mind 
In doubt and dread no rest could find, 
Distressed and trembling like a deer 
Who sees the dreaded tigress near. 
On the bare ground his limbs he threw, 
And many a long deep sigh he drew, 
Like a wild snake, with fury blind, 
By charms within a ring confined. 
Once as the monarch's fury woke, 
"Shame on thee!" from his bosom broke, 
And then in sense-bewildering pain 
He fainted on the ground again. 



Canto XII. Dasaratha's Lament. 353 

At length, when slowly strength returned, 

He answered as his eyeballs burned 

With the wild fury of his ire 

Consuming her, as 'twere, with fire: 

"Fell traitress, thou whose thoughts design 

The utter ruin of my line, 

What wrong have I or Rama done? 

Speak murderess, speak thou wicked one, 

Seeks he not evermore to please 

Thee with all sonlike courtesies? 

By what persuasion art thou led 

To bring this ruin on his head? 

Ah me, that fondly unaware 

I brought thee home my life to share, 

Called daughter of a king, in truth 

A serpent with a venomed tooth! 

What fault can I pretend to find 

In Rama praised by all mankind, 

That I my darling should forsake? 

No, take my life, my glory take: 

Let either queen be from me torn, 

But not my well-loved eldest-born. 

Him but to see is highest bliss, 

And death itself his face to miss. 

The world may sunless stand, the grain 

May thrive without the genial rain, 

But if my Rama be not nigh 

My spirit from its frame will fly. 

Enough, thine impious plan forgo, 

O thou who plottest sin and woe. 

My head before thy feet, I kneel, 

And pray thee some compassion feel. 

O wicked dame, what can have led 

Thy heart to dare a plot so dread? 



354 The Ramayana 

Perchance thy purpose is to sound 

The grace thy son with me has found; 

Perchance the words that, all these days, 

Thou still hast said in Rama's praise, 

Were only feigned, designed to cheer 

With flatteries a father's ear. 

Soon as thy grief, my Queen, I knew, 

My bosom felt the anguish too. 

In empty halls art thou possessed, 

And subject to anothers' hest? 

Now on Ikshvaku's ancient race 

Falls foul disorder and disgrace, 

If thou, O Queen, whose heart so long 

Has loved the good should choose the wrong. 

Not once, O large-eyed dame, hast thou 

Been guilty of offence till now, 

Nor said a word to make me grieve, 

Now will I now thy sin believe. 

With thee my Rama used to hold 

Like place with Bharat lofty-souled. 

As thou so often, when the pair 

Were children yet, wouldst fain declare. 

And can thy righteous soul endure 

That Rama glorious, pious, pure, 

Should to the distant wilds be sent 

For fourteen years of banishment? 

Yea, Rama Bharat's self exceeds 

In love to thee and sonlike deeds, 

And, for deserving love of thee, 

As Bharat, even so is he. 

Who better than that chieftain may 

Obedience, love, and honour pay, 

Thy dignity with care protect, 

Thy slightest word and wish respect? 



Canto XII. Dasaratha's Lament. 355 

Of all his countless followers none 

Can breathe a word against my son; 

Of many thousands not a dame 

Can hint reproach or whisper blame. 

All creatures feel the sweet control 

Of Rama's pure and gentle soul. 

The pride of Manu's race he binds 

To him the people's grateful minds. 

He wins the subjects with his truth, [104] 

The poor with gifts and gentle ruth, 

His teachers with his docile will, 

The foemen with his archer skill. 

Truth, purity, religious zeal, 

The hand to give, the heart to feel, 

The love that ne'er betrays a friend, 

The rectitude that naught can bend, 

Knowledge, and meek obedience grace 

My Rama pride of Raghu's race. 

Canst thou thine impious plot design 

'Gainst him in whom these virtues shine, 

Whose glory with the sages vies, 

Peer of the Gods who rule the skies! 

From him no harsh or bitter word 

To pain one creature have I heard, 

And how can I my son address, 

For thee, with words of bitterness? 

Have mercy, Queen: some pity show 

To see my tears of anguish flow, 

And listen to my mournful cry, 

A poor old man who soon must die. 

Whate'er this sea-girt land can boast 

Of rich and rare from coast to coast, 

To thee, my Queen, I give it all: 

But O, thy deadly words recall: 



356 The Ramayana 

O see, my suppliant hands entreat, 
Again my lips are on thy feet: 
Save Rama, save my darling child, 
Nor kill me with this sin defiled." 
He grovelled on the ground, and lay 
To burning grief a senseless prey, 
And ever and anon, assailed 
By floods of woe he wept and wailed, 
Striving with eager speed to gain 
The margent of his sea of pain. 

With fiercer words she fiercer yet 
The hapless father's pleading met: 
"O Monarch, if thy soul repent 
The promise and thy free consent, 
How wilt thou in the world maintain 
Thy fame for truth unsmirched with stain? 
When gathered kings with thee converse, 
And bid thee all the tale rehearse, 
What wilt thou say, O truthful King, 
In answer to their questioning? 
"She to whose love my life I owe, 
Who saved me smitten by the foe, 
Kaikeyi, for her tender care, 
Was cheated of the oath I sware." 
Thus wilt thou answer, and forsworn 
Wilt draw on thee the princes' scorn. 
Learn from that tale, the Hawk and Dove, 275 
How strong for truth was Saivya's love. 
Pledged by his word the monarch gave 
His flesh the suppliant bird to save. 
So King Alarka gave his eyes, 



275 This story is told in the Mahabharat. A free version of it may be found in 
Scenes from the Rdmdyan, etc. 



Canto XII. Dasaratha's Lament. 357 

And gained a mansion in the skies. 
The Sea himself his promise keeps, 
And ne'er beyond his limit sweeps. 
My deeds of old again recall, 
Nor let thy bond dishonoured fall. 
The rights of truth thou wouldst forget, 
Thy Rama on the throne to set, 
And let thy days in pleasure glide, 
Fond King, Kausalya by thy side. 
Now call it by what name thou wilt, 
Justice, injustice, virtue, guilt, 
Thy word and oath remain the same, 
And thou must yield what thus I claim. 
If Rama be anointed, I 
This very day will surely die, 
Before thy face will poison drink, 
And lifeless at thy feet will sink. 
Yea, better far to die than stay 
Alive to see one single day 
The crowds before Kausalya stand 
And hail her queen with reverent hand. 
Now by my son, myself, I swear, 
No gift, no promise whatsoe'er 
My steadfast soul shall now content, 
But only Rama's banishment." 

So far she spake by rage impelled, 
And then the queen deep silence held. 
He heard her speech full fraught with ill, 
But spoke no word bewildered still, 
Gazed on his love once held so dear 
Who spoke unlovely rede to hear; 
Then as he slowly pondered o'er 
The queen's resolve and oath she swore. 



358 The Ramayana 

Once sighing forth, Ah Rama! he 
Fell prone as falls a smitten tree. 
His senses lost like one insane, 
Faint as a sick man weak with pain, 
Or like a wounded snake dismayed, 
So lay the king whom earth obeyed. 
Long burning sighs he slowly heaved, 
As, conquered by his woe, he grieved, 
And thus with tears and sobs between 
His sad faint words addressed the queen: 

"By whom, Kaikeyi, wast thou taught 
This flattering hope with ruin fraught? 
Have goblins seized thy soul, O dame, 
Who thus canst speak and feel no shame? 
Thy mind with sin is sicklied o'er, 
From thy first youth ne'er seen before. 
A good and loving wife wast thou, 
But all, alas! is altered now. 
What terror can have seized thy breast 
To make thee frame this dire request, 
That Bharat o'er the land may reign, 
And Rama in the woods remain? 
Turn from thine evil ways, O turn, 
And thy perfidious counsel spurn, 
If thou would fain a favour do 
To people, lord, and Bharat too. 
O wicked traitress, fierce and vile, 
[105] Who lovest deeds of sin and guile, 

What crime or grievance dost thou see, 
What fault in Rama or in me? 
Thy son will ne'er the throne accept 
If Rama from his rights be kept, 
For Bharat's heart more firmly yet 



Canto XII. Dasaratha's Lament. 359 

Than Rama's is on justice set. 

How shall I say, Go forth, and brook 

Upon my Rama's face to look, 

See his pale cheek and ashy lips 

Dimmed like the moon in sad eclipse? 

How see the plan so well prepared 

When prudent friends my counsels shared, 

All ruined, like a host laid low 

Beneath some foeman's murderous blow. 

What will these gathered princes say, 

From regions near and far away? 

"O'erlong endures the monarch's reign, 

or now he is a child again." 

When many a good and holy sage 

In Scripture versed, revered for age, 

Shall ask for Rama, what shall I 

Unhappy, what shall I reply? 

"By Queen Kaikeyi long distressed 

I drove him forth and dispossessed." 

Although herein the truth I speak, 

They all will hold me false and weak. 

What will Kausalya say when she 

Demands her son exiled by me? 

Alas ! what answer shall I frame, 

Or how console the injured dame? 

She like a slave on me attends, 

And with a sister's care she blends 

A mother's love, a wife's, a friend's. 

In spite of all her tender care, 

Her noble son, her face most fair, 

Another queen I could prefer 

And for thy sake neglected her, 

But now, O Queen, my heart is grieved 

For love and care by thee received, 



360 The Ramayana 

E'en as the sickening wretch repents 
His dainty meal and condiments. 
And how will Queen Sumitra trust 
The husband whom she finds unjust, 
Seeing my Rama driven hence 
Dishonoured, and for no offence? 
Ah! the Videhan bride will hear 
A double woe, a double fear, 
Two whelming sorrows at one breath, 
Her lord's disgrace, his father's death. 
Mine aged bosom she will wring 
And kill me with her sorrowing, 
Sad as a fair nymph left to weep 
Deserted on Himalaya's steep. 
For short will be my days, I ween, 
When I with mournful eyes have seen 
My Rama wandering forth alone 
And heard dear Sita sob and moan. 
Ah me! my fond belief I rue. 
Vile traitress, loved as good and true, 
As one who in his thirst has quaffed, 
Deceived by looks, a deadly draught. 
Ah! thou hast slain me, murderess, while 
Soothing my soul with words of guile, 
As the wild hunter kills the deer 
Lured from the brake his song to hear. 
Soon every honest tongue will fling 
Reproach on the dishonest king; 
The people's scorn in every street 
The seller of his child will meet, 
And such dishonour will be mine 
As whelms a Brahman drunk with wine. 
Ah me, for my unhappy fate, 
Compelled thy words to tolerate! 



Canto XII. Dasaratha's Lament. 361 

Such woe is sent to scourge a crime 
Committed in some distant time. 
For many a day with sinful care 
I cherished thee, thou sin and snare, 
Kept thee, unwitting, like a cord 
Destined to bind its hapless lord. 
Mine hours of ease I spent with thee, 
Nor deemed my love my death would be, 
While like a heedless child I played, 
On a black snake my hand I laid. 
A cry from every mouth will burst 
And all the world will hold me curst, 
Because I saw my high-souled son 
Unkinged, unfathered, and undone; 
"The king by power of love beguiled 
Is weaker than a foolish child, 
His own beloved son to make 
An exile for a woman's sake. 
By chaste and holy vows restrained, 
By reverend teachers duly trained. 
When he his virtue's fruit should taste 
He falls by sin and woe disgraced." 
Two words will all his answer be 
When I pronounce the stern decree, 
"Hence, Rama, to the woods away," 
All he will say is, I obey. 
O, if he would my will withstand 
When banished from his home and land, 
This were a comfort in my woe; 
But he will ne'er do this, I know. 
My Rama to the forest fled, 
And curses thick upon my head, 
Grim Death will bear me hence away, 
His world-abominated prey. 



362 The Ramayana 

When I am gone and Rama too. 
How wilt thou those I love pursue? 
What vengeful sin will be designed 
Against the queens I leave behind? 
When thou hast slain her son and me 
Kausalya soon will follow: she 
Will sink beneath her sorrows' weight, 
And die like me disconsolate. 
Exist, Kaikeyi, in thy pride, 
And let thy heart be gratified, 
When thou my queens and me hast hurled, 
And children, to the under world. 
Soon wilt thou rule as empress o'er 
My noble house unvext before. 
[106] But then to wild confusion left, 

Of Rama and of me bereft. 
If Bharat to thy plan consent 
And long for Rama's banishment, 
Ne'er let his hands presume to pay 
The funeral honours to my clay. 
Vile foe, thou cause of all mine ill, 
Obtain at last thy cursed will. 
A widow soon shalt thou enjoy 
The sweets of empire with thy boy. 
O Princess, sure some evil fate 
First brought thee here to devastate, 
In whom the night of ruin lies 
Veiled in a consort's fair disguise. 
The scorn of all and deepest shame 
Will long pursue my hated name, 
And dire disgrace on me will press, 
Misled by thee to wickedness. 
How shall my Rama, whom, before, 
His elephant or chariot bore, 



Canto XII. Dasaratha's Lament. 363 

Now with his feet, a wanderer, tread 
The forest wilds around him spread? 
How shall my son, to please whose taste, 
The deftest cooks, with earrings graced, 
With rivalry and jealous care 
The dainty meal and cates prepare — 
How shall he now his life sustain 
With acid fruit and woodland grain? 
He spends his time unvext by cares, 
And robes of precious texture wears: 
How shall he, with one garment round 
His limbs recline upon the ground? 
Whose was this plan, this cruel thought 
Unheard till now, with ruin fraught, 
To make thy son Ayodhya's king, 
And send my Rama wandering? 
Shame, shame on women! Vile, untrue, 
Their selfish ends they still pursue. 
Not all of womankind I mean. 
But more than all this wicked queen. 

worthless, cruel, selfish dame, 

I brought thee home, my plague and woe. 
What fault in me hast thou to blame, 

Or in my son who loves thee so? 
Fond wives may from their husbands flee, 

And fathers may their sons desert, 
But all the world would rave to see 

My Rama touched with deadly hurt. 

1 joy his very step to hear, 

As though his godlike form I viewed; 
And when I see my Rama near 

I feel my youth again renewed. 
There might be life without the sun, 

Yea, e'en if Indra sent no rain, 



364 The Ramayana 

But, were my Rama banished, none 

Would, so I think, alive remain. 
A foe that longs my life to take, 

I brought thee here my death to be, 
Caressed thee long, a venomed snake, 

And through my folly die. Ah me! 
Rama and me and Lakshman slay, 

And then with Bharat rule the state; 
So bring the kingdom to decay, 

And fawn on those thy lord who hate, 
Plotter of woe, for evil bred, 

For such a speech why do not all 
Thy teeth from out thy wicked head 

Split in a thousand pieces fall? 
My Rama's words are ever kind, 

He knows not how to speak in ire: 
Then how canst thou presume to find 

A fault in him whom all admire? 
Yield to despair, go mad, or die, 

Or sink within the rifted earth; 
Thy fell request will I deny, 

Thou shamer of thy royal birth. 
Thy longer life I scarce can bear, 

Thou ruin of my home and race, 
Who wouldst my heart and heartstrings tear, 

Keen as a razor, false and base. 
My life is gone, why speak of joy? 

For what, without my son, were sweet? 
Spare, lady, him thou canst destroy; 

I pray thee as I touch thy feet." 
He fell and wept with wild complaint, 

Heart-struck by her presumptuous speech, 
But could not touch, so weak and faint, 

The cruel feet he strove to reach. 



Canto XIII. Dasaratha's Distress. 365 

Canto XIII. Dasaratha's Distress. 



Unworthy of his mournful fate, 

The mighty king, unfortunate, 

Lay prostrate in unseemly guise, 

As, banished from the blissful skies, 

Yayati, in his evil day. 

His merit all exhausted, lay. 27 

The queen, triumphant in the power 

Won by her beauty's fatal dower, 

Still terrible and unsubdued, 

Her dire demand again renewed: 

"Great Monarch, 'twas thy boast till now 

To love the truth and keep the vow; 

Then wherefore would thy lips refuse 

The promised boon 'tis mine to choose?" 

King Dasaratha, thus addressed, 
With anger raging in his breast, 
Sank for a while beneath the pain, 

Then to Kaikeyi spoke again: [107] 

"Childless so long, at length I won, 
With mighty toil, from Heaven a son, 
Rama, the mighty-armed; and how 
Shall I desert my darling now? 
A scholar wise, a hero bold, 
Of patient mood, with wrath controlled, 
How can I bid my Rama fly, 
My darling of the lotus eye? 



276 Only the highest merit obtains a home in heaven for ever. Minor degrees 
of merit procure only leases of heavenly mansions terminable after periods 
proportioned to the fund which buys them. King Yayati went to heaven and 
when his term expired was unceremoniously ejected, and thrown down to 
earth. 



366 The Ramayana 

In heaven itself I scarce could bear, 
When asking of my Rama there, 
To hear the Gods his griefs declare, 
And O, that death would take me hence 
Before I wrong his innocence!" 

As thus the monarch wept and wailed, 
And maddening grief his heart assailed, 
The sun had sought his resting-place, 
And night was closing round apace. 
But yet the moon-crowned night could bring 
No comfort to the wretched king. 
As still he mourned with burning sighs 
And fixed his gaze upon the skies: 
"O Night whom starry fires adorn, 
I long not for the coming morn. 
Be kind and show some mercy: see, 
My suppliant hands are raised to thee. 
Nay, rather fly with swifter pace; 
No longer would I see the face 
Of Queen Kaikeyi, cruel, dread, 
Who brings this woe upon mine head." 
Again with suppliant hands he tried 
To move the queen, and wept and sighed: 
"To me, unhappy me, inclined 
To good, sweet dame, thou shouldst be kind; 
Whose life is well-nigh fled, who cling 
To thee for succour, me thy king. 
This, only this, is all my claim: 
Have mercy, O my lovely dame. 
None else have I to take my part, 
Have mercy: thou art good at heart. 
Hear, lady of the soft black eye, 
And win a name that ne'er shall die: 



Canto XIV. Rama Summoned. 367 

Let Rama rule this glorious land, 
The gift of thine imperial hand. 
O lady of the dainty waist, 
With eyes and lips of beauty graced, 
Please Rama, me, each saintly priest, 
Bharat, and all from chief to least." 

She heard his wild and mournful cry, 
She saw the tears his speech that broke, 
Saw her good husband's reddened eye, 

But, cruel still, no word she spoke. 
His eyes upon her face he bent, 

And sought for mercy, but in vain: 
She claimed his darling's banishment, 

He swooned upon the ground again. 



Canto XIV. Rama Summoned. 



The wicked queen her speech renewed, 
When rolling on the earth she viewed 
Ikshvaku's son, Ayodhya's king, 
For his dear Rama sorrowing: 
"Why, by a simple promise bound, 
Liest thou prostrate on the ground, 
As though a grievous sin dismayed 
Thy spirit! Why so sore afraid? 
Keep still thy word. The righteous deem 
That truth, mid duties, is supreme: 
And now in truth and honour's name 
I bid thee own the binding claim. 
Saivya, a king whom earth obeyed, 
Once to a hawk a promise made, 



368 The Ramayana 

Gave to the bird his flesh and bone, 
And by his truth made heaven his own. 277 

Alarka, when a Brahman famed 

For Scripture lore his promise claimed, 

Tore from his head his bleeding eyes 

And unreluctant gave the prize. 

His narrow bounds prescribed restrain 

The Rivers' Lord, the mighty main, 

Who, though his waters boil and rave, 

Keeps faithful to the word he gave. 

Truth all religion comprehends, 

Through all the world its might extends: 

In truth alone is justice placed, 

On truth the words of God are based: 

A life in truth unchanging past 

Will bring the highest bliss at last. 

If thou the right would still pursue, 

Be constant to thy word and true: 

Let me thy promise fruitful see, 

For boons, O King, proceed from thee. 

Now to preserve thy righteous fame, 

And yielding to my earnest claim — 

Thrice I repeat it — send thy child, 

Thy Rama, to the forest wild. 

But if the boon thou still deny, 

Before thy face, forlorn, I die." 



See Additional Notes, THE SUPPLIANT DOVEJFNS. 



Canto XIV. Rama Summoned. 369 

Thus was the helpless monarch stung 
By Queen Kaikeyfs fearless tongue, 
As Bali strove in vain to loose 
His limbs from Indra's fatal noose. 
Dismayed in soul and pale with fear, 
The monarch, like a trembling steer 
Between the chariot's wheel and yoke, 
Again to Queen Kaikeyi spoke, 
With sad eyes fixt in vacant stare, 
Gathering courage from despair: 
"That hand I took, thou sinful dame, 
With texts, before the sacred flame, 
Thee and thy son, I scorn and hate, 

And all at once repudiate. [i08] 

The night is fled: the dawn is near: 
Soon will the holy priests be here 
To bid me for the rite prepare 
That with my son the throne will share, 
The preparation made to grace 
My Rama in his royal place — 
With this, e'en this, my darling for 
My death the funeral flood shall pour. 
Thou and thy son at least forbear 
In offerings to my shade to share, 
For by the plot thy guile has laid 
His consecration will be stayed. 
This very day how shall I brook 
To meet each subject's altered look? 
To mark each gloomy joyless brow 
That was so bright and glad but now?" 

While thus the high-souled monarch spoke 
To the stern queen, the Morning broke, 
And holy night had slowly fled, 



370 The Ramayana 

With moon and stars engarlanded. 

Yet once again the cruel queen 

Spoke words in answer fierce and keen, 

Still on her evil purpose bent, 

Wild with her rage and eloquent: 

"What speech is this? Such words as these 

Seem sprung from poison-sown disease. 

Quick to thy noble Rama send 

And bid him on his sire attend. 

When to my son the rule is given; 

When Rama to the woods is driven; 

When not a rival copes with me, 

From chains of duty thou art free." 

Thus goaded, like a generous steed 
Urged by sharp spurs to double speed, 
"My senses are astray," he cried, 
"And duty's bonds my hands have tied. 
I long to see mine eldest son, 
My virtuous, my beloved one." 

And now the night had past away; 
Out shone the Maker of the Day, 
Bringing the planetary hour 
And moment of auspicious power. 
Vasishtha, virtuous, far renowned, 
Whose young disciples girt him round, 
With sacred things without delay 
Through the fair city took his way. 
He traversed, where the people thronged, 
And all for Rama's coming longed, 
The town as fair in festive show 
As his who lays proud cities low. 278 



278 Indra, called also Purandara, Town-destroyer. 



Canto XIV. Rama Summoned. 371 

He reached the palace where he heard 

The mingled notes of many a bird, 

Where crowded thick high-honoured bands 

Of guards with truncheons in their hands. 

Begirt by many a sage, elate, 

Vasishtha reached the royal gate, 

And standing by the door he found 

Sumantra, for his form renowned, 

The king's illustrious charioteer 

And noble counsellor and peer. 

To him well skilled in every part 

Of his hereditary art 

Vasishtha said: "O charioteer, 

Inform the king that I am here, 

Here ready by my side behold 

These sacred vessels made of gold, 

Which water for the rite contain 

From Ganga and each distant main. 

Here for installing I have brought 

The seat prescribed of fig-wood wrought, 

All kinds of seed and precious scent 

And many a gem and ornament; 

Grain, sacred grass, the garden's spoil, 

Honey and curds and milk and oil; 

Eight radiant maids, the best of all 

War elephants that feed in stall; 

A four-horse car, a bow and sword. 

A litter, men to bear their lord; 

A white umbrella bright and fair 

That with the moon may well compare; 

Two chouries of the whitest hair; 

A golden beaker rich and rare; 

A bull high-humped and fair to view, 

Girt with gold bands and white of hue; 



372 The Ramayana 

A four-toothed steed with flowing mane, 

A throne which lions carved sustain; 

A tiger's skin, the sacred fire, 

Fresh kindled, which the rites require; 

The best musicians skilled to play, 

And dancing-girls in raiment gay; 

Kine, Brahmans, teachers fill the court, 

And bird and beast of purest sort. 

From town and village, far and near, 

The noblest men are gathered here; 

Here merchants with their followers crowd, 

And men in joyful converse loud, 

And kings from many a distant land 

To view the consecration stand. 

The dawn is come, the lucky day; 

Go bid the monarch haste away, 

That now Prince Rama may obtain 

The empire, and begin his reign." 

Soon as he heard the high behest 
The driver of the chariot pressed 
Within the chambers of the king, 
His lord with praises honouring. 
And none of all the warders checked 
His entrance for their great respect 
Of him well known, in place so high, 
Still fain their king to gratify. 
He stood beside the royal chief, 
Unwitting of his deadly grief, 
And with sweet words began to sing 
The praises of his lord and king: 
"As, when the sun begins to rise, 
The sparkling sea delights our eyes, 
[109] Wake, calm with gentle soul, and thus 



Canto XIV. Rama Summoned. 373 

Give rapture, mighty King, to us. 
As Matali 279 this selfsame hour 
Sang lauds of old to Indra's power, 
When he the Titan hosts o'erthrew, 
So hymn I thee with praises due. 
The Vedas, with their kindred lore, 
Brahma their soul-born Lord adore, 
With all the doctrines of the wise, 
And bid him, as I bid thee, rise. 
As, with the moon, the Lord of Day 
Wakes with the splendour of his ray 
Prolific Earth, who neath him lies, 
So, mighty King, I bid thee rise. 
With blissful words, O Lord of men, 
Rise, radiant in thy form, as when 
The sun ascending darts his light 
From Meru's everlasting height. 
May Siva, Agni, Sun, and Moon 
Bestow on thee each choicest boon, 
Kuvera, Varuna, Indra bless 
Kakutstha's son with all success. 
Awake, the holy night is fled, 
The happy light abroad is spread; 
Awake, O best of kings, and share 
The glorious task that claims thy care. 
The holy sage Vasishtha waits, 
With all his Brahmans, at the gate. 
Give thy decree, without delay, 
To consecrate thy son today. 
As armies, by no captain led, 
As flocks that feed unshepherded, 
Such is the fortune of a state 



279 Indra's charioteer. 



374 The Ramayana 

Without a king and desolate." 

Such were the words the bard addressed, 
With weight of sage advice impressed; 
And, as he heard, the hapless king 
Felt deeper yet his sorrow's sting. 
At length, all joy and comfort fled, 
He raised his eyes with weeping red, 
And, mournful for his Rama's sake, 
The good and glorious monarch spake: 
"Why seek with idle praise to greet 
The wretch for whom no praise is meet? 
Thy words mine aching bosom tear, 
And plunge me deeper in despair." 

Sumantra heard the sad reply, 
And saw his master's tearful eye. 
With reverent palm to palm applied 
He drew a little space aside. 
Then, as the king, with misery weak, 
With vain endeavour strove to speak, 
Kaikeyi, skilled in plot and plan, 
To sage Sumantra thus began: 
"The king, absorbed in joyful thought 
For his dear son, no rest has sought: 
Sleepless to him the night has past, 
And now o'erwatched he sinks at last. 
Then go, Sumantra, and with speed 
The glorious Rama hither lead: 
Go, as I pray, nor longer wait; 
No time is this to hesitate." 

"How can I go, O Lady fair, 
Unless my lord his will declare?" 

"Fain would I see him," cried the king, 



Canto XV. The Preparations. 375 

"Quick, quick, my beauteous Rama bring." 

Then rose the happy thought to cheer 
The bosom of the charioteer, 
"The king, I ween, of pious mind, 
The consecration has designed." 
Sumantra for his wisdom famed, 
Delighted with the thought he framed, 
From the calm chamber, like a bay 
Of crowded ocean, took his way. 

He turned his face to neither side, 

But forth he hurried straight; 
Only a little while he eyed 
The guards who kept the gate. 
He saw in front a gathered crowd 

Of men of every class, 
Who, parting as he came, allowed 

The charioteer to pass. 



Canto XV. The Preparations. 



There slept the Brahmans, deeply read 
In Scripture, till the night had fled; 
Then, with the royal chaplains, they 
Took each his place in long array. 
There gathered fast the chiefs of trade, 
Nor peer nor captain long delayed, 
Assembling all in order due 
The consecrating rite to view. 



376 The Ramayana 

The morning dawned with cloudless ray 
On Pushya's high auspicious day, 
And Cancer with benignant power 
Looked down on Rama's natal hour. 
The twice-born chiefs, with zealous heed, 
Made ready what the rite would need. 
The well-wrought throne of holy wood 
And golden urns in order stood. 
There was the royal car whereon 
A tiger's skin resplendent shone; 
There water, brought for sprinkling thence 
Where, in their sacred confluence, 
Blend Jumna's waves with Ganga's tide, 
From many a holy flood beside, 
From brook and fountain far and near, 
From pool and river, sea and mere. 
And there were honey, curd, and oil, 
Parched rice and grass, the garden's spoil, 
Fresh milk, eight girls in bright attire, 
An elephant with eyes of fire; 
And urns of gold and silver made, 
With milky branches overlaid, 
All brimming from each sacred flood, 
[no] And decked with many a lotus bud. 

And dancing-women fair and free, 
Gay with their gems, were there to see, 
Who stood in bright apparel by 
With lovely brow and witching eye. 
White flashed the jewelled chouri there, 
And shone like moonbeams through the air; 
The white umbrella overhead 
A pale and moonlike lustre shed, 
Wont in pure splendour to precede, 
And in such rites the pomp to lead. 



Canto XV. The Preparations. 377 

There stood the charger by the side 
Of the great bull of snow-white hide; 
There was all music soft and loud, 
And bards and minstrels swelled the crowd. 
For now the monarch bade combine 
Each custom of his ancient line 
With every rite Ayodhya's state 
Observed, her kings to consecrate. 



Then, summoned by the king's behest, 
The multitudes together pressed, 
And, missing still the royal sire, 
Began, impatient, to inquire: 
"Who to our lord will tidings bear 
That all his people throng the square? 
Where is the king? the sun is bright, 
And all is ready for the rite." 



As thus they spoke, Sumantra, tried 
In counsel, to the chiefs replied, 
Gathered from lands on every side: 
"To Rama's house I swiftly drave, 
For so the king his mandate gave. 
Our aged lord and Rama too 
In honour high hold all of you: 
I in your words (be long your days!) 
Will ask him why he thus delays." 



378 The Ramayana 

Thus spoke the peer in Scripture read, 
And to the ladies' bower he sped. 
Quick through the gates Sumantra hied, 
Which access ne'er to him denied. 
Behind the curtained screen he drew, 
Which veiled the chamber from the view. 
In benediction loud he raised 
His voice, and thus the monarch praised: 
"Sun, Moon, Kuvera, Siva bless 
Kakutstha's son with high success ! 
The Lords of air, flood, fire decree 
The victory, my King, to thee! 
The holy night has past away, 
Auspicious shines the morning's ray. 
Rise, Lord of men, thy part to take 
In the great rite. Awake! awake! 
Brahmans and captains, chiefs of trade, 
All wait in festive garb arrayed; 
For thee they look with eager eyes: 
O Raghu's son, awake! arise." 



To him in holy Scripture read, 
Who hailed him thus, the monarch said, 
Upraising from his sleep his head: 
"Go, Rama, hither lead as thou 
Wast ordered by the queen but now. 
Come, tell me why my mandate laid 
Upon thee thus is disobeyed. 
Away! and Rama hither bring; 
I sleep not: make no tarrying." 



Canto XV. The Preparations. 379 

Thus gave the king command anew: 
Sumantra from his lord withdrew; 
With head in lowly reverence bent, 
And filled with thoughts of joy, he went. 
The royal street he traversed, where 
Waved flag and pennon to the air, 
And, as with joy the car he drove, 
He let his eyes delighted rove. 
On every side, where'er he came, 
He heard glad words, their theme the same, 
As in their joy the gathered folk 
Of Rama and the throning spoke. 
Then saw he Rama's palace bright 
And vast as Mount Kailasa's height, 
That glorious in its beauty showed 
As Indra's own supreme abode: 
With folding doors both high and wide; 
With hundred porches beautified: 
Where golden statues towering rose 
O'er gemmed and coralled porticoes. 
Bright like a cave in Meru's side, 
Or clouds through Autumn's sky that ride: 
Festooned with length of bloomy twine, 
Flashing with pearls and jewels' shine, 
While sandal-wood and aloe lent 
The mingled riches of their scent; 
With all the odorous sweets that fill 
The breezy heights of Dardar's hill. 
There by the gate the Saras screamed, 
And shrill-toned peacocks' plumage gleamed. 
Its floors with deftest art inlaid, 
Its sculptured wolves in gold arrayed, 
With its bright sheen the palace took 
The mind of man and chained the look, 



380 The Ramayana 

For like the sun and moon it glowed, 
And mocked Kuvera's loved abode. 
Circling the walls a crowd he viewed 
Who stood in reverent attitude, 
With throngs of countrymen who sought 
Acceptance of the gifts they brought. 
The elephant was stationed there, 
Appointed Rama's self to bear; 
Adorned with pearls, his brow and cheek 
Were sandal-dyed in many a streak, 
While he, in stature, bulk, and pride, 
With Indra's own Airavat 280 vied. 
Sumantra, borne by coursers fleet, 
Flashing a radiance o'er the street, 

To Rama's palace flew, 
And all who lined the royal road, 
Or thronged the prince's rich abode, 

Rejoiced as near he drew. 
And with delight his bosom swelled 
[in] As onward still his course he held 

Through many a sumptuous court 
Like Indra's palace nobly made, 
Where peacocks revelled in the shade, 

And beasts of silvan sort. 
Through many a hall and chamber wide, 
That with Kailasa's splendour vied. 

Or mansions of the Blest, 
While Rama's friends, beloved and tried, 
Before his coming stepped aside, 

Still on Sumantra pressed. 
He reached the chamber door, where stood 
Around his followers young and good, 



280 The elephant of Indra. 



Canto XVI. Rama Summoned. 381 

Bard, minstrel, charioteer, 

Well skilled the tuneful chords to sweep, 

With soothing strain to lull to sleep, 

Or laud their master dear. 
Then, like a dolphin darting through 
Unfathomed depths of ocean's blue 

With store of jewels decked, 
Through crowded halls that rock-like rose, 
Or as proud hills where clouds repose, 

Sumantra sped unchecked — 
Halls like the glittering domes on high 
Reared for the dwellers of the sky 

By heavenly architect. 



Canto XVI. Rama Summoned. 



So through the crowded inner door 
Sumantra, skilled in ancient lore, 
On to the private chambers pressed 
Which stood apart from all the rest. 
There youthful warriors, true and bold, 
Whose ears were ringed with polished gold, 
All armed with trusty bows and darts, 
Watched with devoted eyes and hearts. 
And hoary men, a faithful train, 
Whose aged hands held staves of cane, 
The ladies' guard, apparelled fair 
In red attire, were stationed there. 
Soon as they saw Sumantra nigh, 
Each longed his lord to gratify, 
And from his seat beside the door 



382 The Ramayana 

Up sprang each ancient servitor. 
Then to the warders quickly cried 
The skilled Sumantra, void of pride: 
"Tell Rama that the charioteer 
Sumantra waits for audience here." 
The ancient men with one accord 
Seeking the pleasure of their lord, 
Passing with speed the chamber door 
To Rama's ear the message bore. 
Forthwith the prince with duteous heed 
Called in the messenger with speed, 
For 'twas his sire's command, he knew, 
That sent him for the interview. 
Like Lord Kuvera, well arrayed, 

He pressed a couch of gold, 
Wherefrom a covering of brocade 

Hung down in many a fold. 
Oil and the sandal's fragrant dust 

Had tinged his body o'er 
Dark as the stream the spearman's thrust 

Drains from the wounded boar. 
Him Sita watched with tender care, 

A chouri in her hand, 
As Chitra, 281 ever fond in fair, 

Beside the Moon will stand. 
Him glorious with unborrowed light, 
A liberal lord, of sunlike might, 
Sumantra hailed in words like these, 
Well skilled in gentle courtesies, 
As, with joined hands in reverence raised, 
Upon the beauteous prince he gazed: 
"Happy Kausalya! Blest is she, 



281 A star in the spike of Virgo: hence the name of the mouth Chaitra or Chait. 



Canto XVI. Rama Summoned. 383 

The Mother of a son like thee. 
Now rise, O Rama, speed away. 
Go to thy sire without delay: 
For he and Queen Kaikeyi seek 
An interview with thee to speak." 



The lion-lord of men, the best 
Of splendid heroes, thus addressed, 
To Sita spake with joyful cheer: 
"The king and queen, my lady dear, 
Touching the throning, for my sake 
Some salutary counsel take. 
The lady of the full black eye 
Would fain her husband gratify, 
And, all his purpose understood, 
Counsels the monarch to my good. 
A happy fate is mine, I ween, 
When he, consulting with his queen, 
Sumantra on this charge, intent 
Upon my gain and good, has sent. 
An envoy of so noble sort 
Well suits the splendour of the court. 
The consecration rite this day 
Will join me in imperial sway. 
To meet the lord of earth, for so 
His order bids me, I will go. 
Thou, lady, here in comfort stay, 
And with thy maidens rest or play." 



384 The Ramayana 

Thus Rama spake. For meet reply 
The lady of the large black eye 
Attended to the door her lord, 
And blessings on his head implored: 
"The majesty and royal state 
Which holy Brahmans venerate, 
The consecration and the rite 
Which sanctifies the ruler's might, 
And all imperial powers should be 
Thine by thy father's high decree, 
As He, the worlds who formed and planned, 
[112] The kingship gave to Indra's hand. 

Then shall mine eyes my king adore 
When lustral rites and fast are o'er, 
And black deer's skin and roebuck's horn 
Thy lordly limbs and hand adorn. 
May He whose hands the thunder wield 
Be in the east thy guard and shield; 
May Yama's care the south befriend, 
And Varun's arm the west defend; 
And let Kuvera, Lord of Gold, 
The north with firm protection hold." 

Then Rama spoke a kind farewell, 
And hailed the blessings as they fell 
From Sita's gentle lips; and then, 
As a young lion from his den 
Descends the mountain's stony side, 
So from the hall the hero hied. 
First Lakshman at the door he viewed 
Who stood in reverent attitude, 
Then to the central court he pressed 
Where watched the friends who loved him best. 
To all his dear companions there 



Canto XVI. Rama Summoned. 385 

He gave kind looks and greeting fair. 

On to the lofty car that glowed 

Like fire the royal tiger strode. 

Bright as himself its silver shone: 

A tiger's skin was laid thereon. 

With cloudlike thunder, as it rolled, 

It flashed with gems and burnished gold, 

And, like the sun's meridian blaze, 

Blinded the eye that none could gaze. 

Like youthful elephants, tall and strong, 

Fleet coursers whirled the car along: 

In such a car the Thousand-eyed 

Borne by swift horses loves to ride. 

So like Parjanya, 282 when he flies 

Thundering through the autumn skies, 

The hero from the palace sped, 

As leaves the moon some cloud o'erhead. 

Still close to Rama Lakshman kept, 

Behind him to the car he leapt, 

And, watching with fraternal care, 

Waved the long chouri's silver hair, 

As from the palace gate he came 

Up rose the tumult of acclaim. 

While loud huzza and jubilant shout 

Pealed from the gathered myriads out. 

Then elephants, like mountains vast, 

And steeds who all their kind surpassed, 

Followed their lord by hundreds, nay 

By thousands, led in long array. 

First marched a band of warriors trained, 

With sandal dust and aloe stained; 

Well armed was each with sword and bow, 



386 The Ramayana 

And every breast with hope aglow, 
And ever, as they onward went, 

Shouts from the warrior train, 
And every sweet-toned instrument 

Prolonged the minstrel strain. 
On passed the tamer of his foes, 
While well clad dames, in crowded rows, 
Each chamber lattice thronged to view, 
And chaplets on the hero threw. 
Then all, of peerless face and limb, 
Sang Rama's praise for love of him, 
And blent their voices, soft and sweet, 
From palace high and crowded street: 
"Now, sure, Kausalya's heart must swell 
To see the son she loves so well, 
Thee Rama, thee, her joy and pride, 
Triumphant o'er the realm preside." 
Then — for they knew his bride most fair 
Of all who part the soft dark hair, 
His love, his life, possessed the whole 
Of her young hero's heart and soul: — 
"Be sure the lady's fate repays 
Some mighty vow of ancient days, 283 
For blest with Rama's love is she 
As, with the Moon's, sweet Rohini." 284 

Such were the witching words that came 
From lips of many a peerless dame 
Crowding the palace roofs to greet 
The hero as he gained the street. 



284 One of the lunar asterisms, represented as the favourite wife of the Moon. 
See p. 4, note. 



Canto XVII. Rama's Approach. 387 

Canto XVII. Rama's Approach. 



As Rama, rendering blithe and gay 

His loving friends, pursued his way, 

He saw on either hand a press 

Of mingled people numberless. 

The royal street he traversed, where 

Incense of aloe filled the air, 

Where rose high palaces, that vied 

With paly clouds, on either side; 

With flowers of myriad colours graced. 

And food for every varied taste, 

Bright as the glowing path o'erhead 

Which feet of Gods celestial tread, 

Loud benedictions, sweet to hear, 

From countless voices soothed his ear. 

While he to each gave due salute 

His place and dignity to suit: 

"Be thou," the joyful people cried, 

"Be thou our guardian, lord and guide. 

Throned and anointed king to-day, 

Thy feet set forth upon the way 

Wherein, each honoured as a God, 

Thy fathers and forefathers trod. 

Thy sire and his have graced the throne, 

And loving care to us have shown: 

Thus blest shall we and ours remain, 

Yea still more blest in Rama's reign. [113] 

No more of dainty fare we need, 

And but one cherished object heed, 

That we may see our prince today 

Invested with imperial sway." 



388 The Ramayana 

Such were the words and pleasant speech 
That Rama heard, unmoved, from each 
Of the dear friends around him spread, 
As onward through the street he sped, 
For none could turn his eye or thought 
From the dear form his glances sought, 
With fruitless ardour forward cast 
Even when Raghu's son had past. 
And he who saw not Rama nigh, 
Nor caught a look from Rama's eye, 
A mark for scorn and general blame, 
Reproached himself in bitter shame. 
For to each class his equal mind 
With sympathy and love inclined 
Most fully of the princely four, 
So greatest love to him they bore. 

His circling course the hero bent 
Round shrine and altar, reverent, 
Round homes of Gods, where cross-roads met, 
Where many a sacred tree was set. 
Near to his father's house he drew 
Like Indra's beautiful to view, 
And with the light his glory gave 
Within the royal palace drave. 
Through three broad courts, where bowmen kept 
Their watch and ward, his coursers swept, 
Then through the two remaining went 
On foot the prince preeminent. 
Through all the courts the hero passed, 
And gained the ladies' bower at last; 
Then through the door alone withdrew, 
And left without his retinue. 
When thus the monarch's noble boy 



Canto XVIII. The Sentence. 389 

Had gone his sire to meet, 
The multitude, elate with joy, 

Stood watching in the street, 
And his return with eager eyes 

Expected at the gates, 
As for his darling moon to rise 

The King of Rivers 285 waits. 



Canto XVIII. The Sentence. 



With hopeless eye and pallid mien 
There sat the monarch with the queen. 
His father's feet with reverence due 
He clasped, and touched Kaikeyi's too. 
The king, with eyes still brimming o'er, 
Cried Rama! and could do no more. 
His voice was choked, his eye was dim, 
He could not speak or look on him. 
Then sudden fear made Rama shake 
As though his foot had roused a snake, 
Soon as his eyes had seen the change 
So mournful, terrible, and strange. 
For there his reason well-nigh fled, 
Sighing, with soul disquieted, 

To torturing pangs a prey, 
Dismayed, despairing, and distraught, 
In a fierce whirl of wildering thought 

The hapless monarch lay, 
Like Ocean wave-engarlanded 



390 The Ramayana 

Storm-driven from his tranquil bed, 

The Sun-God in eclipse, 
Or like a holy seer, heart-stirred 
With anguish, when a lying word 

Has passed his heedless lips. 
The sight of his dear father, pained 
With woe and misery unexplained 

Filled Rama with unrest, 
As Ocean's pulses rise and swell 
When the great moon he loves so well 

Shines full upon his breast. 
So grieving for his father's sake, 
To his own heart the hero spake: 
"Why will the king my sire to-day 
No kindly word of greeting say? 
At other times, though wroth he be, 
His eyes grow calm that look on me. 
Then why does anguish wring his brow 
To see his well-beloved now?" 
Sick and perplexed, distraught with woe, 
To Queen Kaikeyi bowing low, 
While pallor o'er his bright cheek spread, 
With humble reverence he said: 
"What have I done, unknown, amiss 
To make my father wroth like this? 
Declare it, O dear Queen, and win 
His pardon for my heedless sin. 
Why is the sire I ever find 
Filled with all love to-day unkind? 
With eyes cast down and pallid cheek 
This day alone he will not speak. 
Or lies he prostrate neath the blow 
Of fierce disease or sudden woe? 
For all our bliss is dashed with pain, 



Canto XVIII. The Sentence. 391 

And joy unmixt is hard to gain. 

Does stroke of evil fortune smite 

Dear Bharat, charming to the sight, 

Or on the brave Satrughna fall, 

Or consorts, for he loves them all? 

Against his words when I rebel, 

Or fail to please the monarch well, 

When deeds of mine his soul offend, 

That hour I pray my life may end. 

How should a man to him who gave 

His being and his life behave? 

The sire to whom he owes his birth 

Should be his deity on earth. 

Hast thou, by pride and folly moved, [114] 

With bitter taunt the king reproved? 

Has scorn of thine or cruel jest 

To passion stirred his gentle breast? 

Speak truly, Queen, that I may know 

What cause has changed the monarch so." 

Thus by the high-souled prince addressed, 
Of Raghu's sons the chief and best, 
She cast all ruth and shame aside, 
And bold with greedy words replied: 
"Not wrath, O Rama, stirs the king, 
Nor misery stabs with sudden sting; 
One thought that fills his soul has he, 
But dares not speak for fear of thee. 
Thou art so dear, his lips refrain 
From words that might his darling pain. 
But thou, as duty bids, must still 
The promise of thy sire fulfil. 
He who to me in days gone by 
Vouchsafed a boon with honours high, 



392 The Ramayana 

Dares now, a king, his word regret, 
And caitiff-like disowns the debt. 
The lord of men his promise gave 
To grant the boon that I might crave, 
And now a bridge would idly throw 
When the dried stream has ceased to flow. 
His faith the monarch must not break 
In wrath, or e'en for thy dear sake. 
From faith, as well the righteous know, 
Our virtue and our merits flow. 
Now, be they good or be they ill, 
Do thou thy father's words fulfil: 
Swear that his promise shall not fail, 
And I will tell thee all the tale. 
Yes, Rama, when I hear that thou 
Hast bound thee by thy father's vow, 
Then, not till then, my lips shall speak, 
Nor will he tell what boon I seek." 

He heard, and with a troubled breast 
This answer to the queen addressed: 
"Ah me, dear lady, canst thou deem 
That words like these thy lips beseem? 
I, at the bidding of my sire, 
Would cast my body to the fire, 
A deadly draught of poison drink, 
Or in the waves of ocean sink: 
If he command, it shall be done, — 
My father and my king in one. 
Then speak and let me know the thing 
So longed for by my lord the king. 
It shall be done: let this suffice; 
Rama ne'er makes a promise twice." 



Canto XVIII. The Sentence. 393 

He ended. To the princely youth 
Who loved the right and spoke the truth, 
Cruel, abominable came 
The answer of the ruthless dame: 
"When Gods and Titans fought of yore, 
Transfixed with darts and bathed in gore 
Two boons to me thy father gave 
For the dear life 'twas mine to save. 
Of him I claim the ancient debt, 
That Bharat on the throne be set, 
And thou, O Rama, go this day 
To Dandak forest far away. 
Now, Rama, if thou wilt maintain 
Thy father's faith without a stain, 
And thine own truth and honour clear, 
Then, best of men, my bidding hear. 
Do thou thy father's word obey, 
Nor from the pledge he gave me stray. 
Thy life in Dandak forest spend 
Till nine long years and five shall end. 
Upon my Bharat's princely head 
Let consecrating drops be shed, 
With all the royal pomp for thee 
Made ready by the king's decree. 
Seek Dandak forest and resign 
Rites that would make the empire thine, 
For twice seven years of exile wear 
The coat of bark and matted hair. 
Then in thy stead let Bharat reign 
Lord of his royal sire's domain, 
Rich in the fairest gems that shine, 
Cars, elephants, and steeds, and kine. 
The monarch mourns thy altered fate 
And vails his brow compassionate: 



394 The Ramayana 

Bowed down by bitter grief he lies 
And dares not lift to thine his eyes. 
Obey his word: be firm and brave, 
And with great truth the monarch save." 

While thus with cruel words she spoke, 
No grief the noble youth betrayed; 
But forth the father's anguish broke, 

At his dear Rama's lot dismayed. 



Canto XIX. Rama's Promise. 



Calm and unmoved by threatened woe 
The noble conqueror of the foe 
Answered the cruel words she spoke, 
Nor quailed beneath the murderous stroke: 

"Yea, for my father's promise sake 
I to the wood my way will take, 
And dwell a lonely exile there 
In hermit dress with matted hair. 
One thing alone I fain would learn, 
Why is the king this day so stern? 
Why is the scourge of foes so cold, 
Nor gives me greeting as of old? 
Now let not anger flush thy cheek: 
Before thy face the truth I speak, 
In hermit's coat with matted hair 
To the wild wood will I repair. 
How can I fail his will to do, 
Friend, master, grateful sovereign too? 
One only pang consumes my breast: 



Canto XIX. Rama's Promise. 395 

That his own lips have not expressed 

His will, nor made his longing known 

That Bharat should ascend the throne. [115] 

To Bharat I would yield my wife, 

My realm and wealth, mine own dear life, 

Unasked I fain would yield them all: 

More gladly at my father's call, 

More gladly when the gift may free 

His honour and bring joy to thee. 

Thus, lady, his sad heart release 

From the sore shame, and give him peace. 

But tell me, O, I pray thee, why 

The lord of men, with downcast eye, 

Lies prostrate thus, and one by one 

Down his pale cheek the tear-drops run. 

Let couriers to thy father speed 

On horses of the swiftest breed, 

And, by the mandate of the king, 

Thy Bharat to his presence bring. 

My father's words I will not stay 

To question, but this very day 

To Dandak's pathless wild will fare, 

For twice seven years an exile there." 

When Rama thus had made reply 
Kaikeyfs heart with joy beat high. 
She, trusting to the pledge she held, 
The youth's departure thus impelled: 
"Tis well. Be messengers despatched 
On coursers ne'er for fleetness matched, 
To seek my father's home and lead 
My Bharat back with all their speed. 
And, Rama, as I ween that thou 
Wilt scarce endure to linger now, 



396 The Ramayana 

So surely it were wise and good 

This hour to journey to the wood. 

And if, with shame cast down and weak, 

No word to thee the king can speak, 

Forgive, and from thy mind dismiss 

A trifle in an hour like this. 

But till thy feet in rapid haste 

Have left the city for the waste, 

And to the distant forest fled, 

He will not bathe nor call for bread." 

"Woe! woe!" from the sad monarch burst, 
In surging floods of grief immersed; 
Then swooning, with his wits astray, 
Upon the gold-wrought couch he lay, 
And Rama raised the aged king: 
But the stern queen, unpitying, 
Checked not her needless words, nor spared 
The hero for all speed prepared, 
But urged him with her bitter tongue, 
Like a good horse with lashes stung, 
She spoke her shameful speech. Serene 
He heard the fury of the queen, 
And to her words so vile and dread 
Gently, unmoved in mind, he said: 
"I would not in this world remain 
A grovelling thrall to paltry gain, 
But duty's path would fain pursue, 
True as the saints themselves are true. 
From death itself I would not fly 
My father's wish to gratify, 
What deed soe'er his loving son 
May do to please him, think it done. 
Amid all duties, Queen, I count 



Canto XIX. Rama's Promise. 397 

This duty first and paramount, 

That sons, obedient, aye fulfil 

Their honoured fathers' word and will. 

Without his word, if thou decree, 

Forth to the forest will I flee, 

And there shall fourteen years be spent 

Mid lonely wilds in banishment. 

Methinks thou couldst not hope to find 

One spark of virtue in my mind, 

If thou, whose wish is still my lord, 

Hast for this grace the king implored. 

This day I go, but, ere we part, 

Must cheer my Sita's tender heart, 

To my dear mother bid farewell; 

Then to the woods, a while to dwell. 

With thee, O Queen, the care must rest 

That Bharat hear his sire's behest, 

And guard the land with righteous sway, 

For such the law that lives for aye." 

In speechless woe the father heard, 
Wept with loud cries, but spoke no word. 
Then Rama touched his senseless feet, 
And hers, for honour most unmeet; 
Round both his circling steps he bent, 
Then from the bower the hero went. 
Soon as he reached the gate he found 
His dear companions gathered round. 
Behind him came Sumitra's child 
With weeping eyes so sad and wild. 
Then saw he all that rich array 
Of vases for the glorious day. 
Round them with reverent stops he paced, 
Nor vailed his eye, nor moved in haste. 



398 The Ramayana 

The loss of empire could not dim 
The glory that encompassed him. 
So will the Lord of Cooling Rays 286 
On whom the world delights to gaze, 
Through the great love of all retain 
Sweet splendour in the time of wane. 
Now to the exile's lot resigned 
He left the rule of earth behind: 
As though all worldly cares he spurned 
No trouble was in him discerned. 
The chouries that for kings are used, 
And white umbrella, he refused, 
Dismissed his chariot and his men, 
And every friend and citizen. 
He ruled his senses, nor betrayed 
The grief that on his bosom weighed, 
And thus his mother's mansion sought 
To tell the mournful news he brought. 
Nor could the gay-clad people there 
Who flocked round Rama true and fair, 
One sign of altered fortune trace 
Upon the splendid hero's face. 
Nor had the chieftain, mighty-armed, 
[116] Lost the bright look all hearts that charmed, 

As e'en from autumn moons is thrown 
A splendour which is all their own. 
With his sweet voice the hero spoke 
Saluting all the gathered folk, 
Then righteous-souled and great in fame 
Close to his mother's house he came. 
Lakshman the brave, his brother's peer 
In princely virtues, followed near, 



Canto XX. Kausalya's Lament. 399 

Sore troubled, but resolved to show 
No token of his secret woe. 
Thus to the palace Rama went 

Where all were gay with hope and joy; 
But well he knew the dire event 

That hope would mar, that bliss destroy. 
So to his grief he would not yield 

Lest the sad change their hearts might rend, 
And, the dread tiding unrevealed, 

Spared from the blow each faithful friend. 



Canto XX. Kausalya's Lament. 

But in the monarch's palace, when 
Sped from the bower that lord of men, 
Up from the weeping women went 
A mighty wail and wild lament: 
"Ah, he who ever freely did 
His duty ere his sire could bid, 
Our refuge and our sure defence, 
This day will go an exile hence, 
He on Kausalya loves to wait 
Most tender and affectionate, 
And as he treats his mother, thus 
From childhood has he treated us. 
On themes that sting he will not speak, 
And when reviled is calm and meek. 
He soothes the angry, heals offence: 
He goes to-day an exile hence. 
Our lord the king is most unwise, 
And looks on life with doting eyes, 



400 The Ramayana 

Who in his folly casts away 

The world's protection, hope, and stay." 

Thus in their woe, like kine bereaved 
Of their young calves, 287 the ladies grieved, 
And ever as they wept and wailed 
With keen reproach the king assailed. 
Their lamentation, mixed with tears, 
Smote with new grief the monarch's ears, 
Who, burnt with woe too great to bear, 
Fell on his couch and fainted there. 

Then Rama, smitten with the pain 
His heaving heart could scarce restrain, 
Groaned like an elephant and strode 
With Lakshman to the queen's abode. 
A warder there, whose hoary eld 
In honour high by all was held, 
Guarding the mansion, sat before 
The portal, girt with many more. 
Swift to their feet the warders sprang, 
And loud the acclamation rang, 
Hail, Rama! as to him they bent, 
Of victor chiefs preeminent. 
One court he passed, and in the next 
Saw, masters of each Veda text, 
A crowd of Brahmans, good and sage, 



287 The comparison may to a European reader seem a homely one. But Spenser 
likens an infuriate woman to a cow "That is berobbed of her youngling dere." 
Shakspeare also makes King Henry VI compare himself to the calf s mother 
that "Runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one 
went." "Cows," says De Quincey, "are amongst the gentlest of breathing crea- 
tures; none show more passionate tenderness to their young, when deprived of 
them, and, in short, I am not ashamed to profess a deep love for these gentle 
creatures." 



Canto XX. Kausalya's Lament. 401 

Dear to the king for lore and age. 

To these he bowed his reverent head, 

Thence to the court beyond he sped. 

Old dames and tender girls, their care 

To keep the doors, were stationed there. 

And all, when Rama came in view, 

Delighted to the chamber flew, 

To bear to Queen Kausalya's ear 

The tidings that she loved to hear. 

The queen, on rites and prayer intent, 

In careful watch the night had spent, 

And at the dawn, her son to aid, 

To Vishnu holy offerings made. 

Firm in her vows, serenely glad, 

In robes of spotless linen clad, 

As texts prescribe, with grace implored, 

Her offerings in the fire she poured. 

Within her splendid bower he came, 

And saw her feed the sacred flame. 

There oil, and grain, and vases stood, 

With wreaths, and curds, and cates, and wood, 

And milk, and sesamum, and rice, 

The elements of sacrifice. 

She, worn and pale with many a fast 

And midnight hours in vigil past, 

In robes of purest white arrayed, 

To Lakshmi Queen drink-offerings paid. 

So long away, she flew to meet 

The darling of her soul: 
So runs a mare with eager feet 

To welcome back her foal. 
He with his firm support upheld 

The queen, as near she drew, 
And, by maternal love impelled, 



402 The Ramayana 

Her arms around him threw. 
Her hero son, her matchless boy 

She kissed upon the head: 
She blessed him in her pride and joy 
[117] With tender words, and said: 

"Be like thy royal sires of old, 
The nobly good, the lofty-souled! 
Their lengthened days and fame be thine, 
And virtue, as beseems thy line! 
The pious king, thy father, see 
True to his promise made to thee: 
That truth thy sire this day will show, 
And regent's power on thee bestow." 

She spoke. He took the proffered seat, 
And as she pressed her son to eat, 
Raised reverent bands, and, touched with shame, 
Made answer to the royal dame: 
"Dear lady, thou hast yet to know 
That danger threats, and heavy woe: 
A grief that will with sore distress 
On Sita, thee, and Lakshman press. 
What need of seats have such as I? 
This day to Dandak wood I fly. 
The hour is come, a time, unmeet 
For silken couch and gilded seat. 
I must to lonely wilds repair, 
Abstain from flesh, and living there 
On roots, fruit, honey, hermit's food, 
Pass twice seven years in solitude. 
To Bharat's hand the king will yield 
The regent power I thought to wield, 
And me, a hermit, will he send 
My days in Dandak wood to spend." 



Canto XX. Kausalya's Lament. 403 

As when the woodman's axe has lopped 
A Sal branch in the grove, she dropped: 
So from the skies a Goddess falls 
Ejected from her radiant halls. 

When Rama saw her lying low, 
Prostrate by too severe a blow, 
Around her form his arms he wound 
And raised her fainting from the ground. 
His hand upheld her like a mare 
Who feels her load too sore to bear, 
And sinks upon the way o'ertoiled, 
And all her limbs with dust are soiled. 
He soothed her in her wild distress 
With loving touch and soft caress. 
She, meet for highest fortune, eyed 
The hero watching by her side, 
And thus, while Lakshman bent to hear, 
Addressed her son with many a tear! 
"If, Rama, thou had ne'er been born 
My child to make thy mother mourn, 
Though reft of joy, a childless queen, 
Such woe as this I ne'er had seen. 
Though to the childless wife there clings 
One sorrow armed with keenest stings, 
"No child have I: no child have I," 
No second misery prompts the sigh. 
When long I sought, alas, in vain, 
My husband's love and bliss to gain, 
In Rama all my hopes I set 
And dreamed I might be happy yet. 
I, of the consorts first and best, 
Must bear my rivals' taunt and jest, 
And brook, though better far than they, 



404 The Ramayana 

The soul distressing words they say. 

What woman can be doomed to pine 

In misery more sore than mine, 

Whose hopeless days must still be spent 

In grief that ends not and lament? 

They scorned me when my son was nigh; 

When he is banished I must die. 

Me, whom my husband never prized, 

Kaikeyfs retinue despised 

With boundless insolence, though she 

Tops not in rank nor equals me. 

And they who do me service yet, 

Nor old allegiance quite forget, 

Whene'er they see Kaikeyfs son, 

With silent lips my glances shun. 

How, O my darling, shall I brook 

Each menace of Kaikeyfs look, 

And listen, in my low estate, 

To taunts of one so passionate? 

For seventeen years since thou wast born 

I sat and watched, ah me, forlorn! 

Hoping some blessed day to see 

Deliverance from my woes by thee. 

Now comes this endless grief and wrong, 

So dire I cannot bear it long, 

Sinking, with age and sorrow worn, 

Beneath my rivals' taunts and scorn. 

How shall I pass in dark distress 

My long lone days of wretchedness 

Without my Rama's face, as bright 

As the full moon to cheer my sight? 

Alas, my cares thy steps to train, 

And fasts, and vows, and prayers are vain. 

Hard, hard, I ween, must be this heart 



Canto XXI. Kausalya Calmed. 405 

To hear this blow nor burst apart, 
As some great river bank, when first 
The floods of Rain-time on it burst. 
No, Fate that speeds not will not slay, 

Nor Yama's halls vouchsafe me room, 
Or, like a lion's weeping prey, 

Death now had borne me to my doom. 
Hard is my heart and wrought of steel 

That breaks not with the crushing blow, 
Or in the pangs this day I feel 

My lifeless frame had sunk below. 
Death waits his hour, nor takes me now: 

But this sad thought augments my pain, 
That prayer and largess, fast and vow, 

And Heavenward service are in vain. 
Ah me, ah me! with fruitless toil 

Of rites austere a child I sought: 
Thus seed cast forth on barren soil 

Still lifeless lies and comes to naught. 
If ever wretch by anguish grieved 

Before his hour to death had fled, 
I mourning, like a cow bereaved, 

Had been this day among the dead." 



[118] 



Canto XXI. Kausalya Calmed. 



406 The Ramayana 

While thus Kausalya wept and sighed, 
With timely words sad Lakshman cried: 
"O honoured Queen I like it ill 
That, subject to a woman's will, 
Rama his royal state should quit 
And to an exile's doom submit. 
The aged king, fond, changed, and weak, 
Will as the queen compels him speak. 
But why should Rama thus be sent 
To the wild woods in banishment? 
No least offence I find in him, 
I see no fault his fame to dim. 
Not one in all the world I know, 
Not outcast wretch, not secret foe, 
Whose whispering lips would dare assail 
His spotless life with slanderous tale. 
Godlike and bounteous, just, sincere, 
E'en to his very foemen dear: 
Who would without a cause neglect 
The right, and such a son reject? 
And if a king such order gave, 
In second childhood, passion's slave, 
What son within his heart would lay 
The senseless order, and obey? 
Come, Rama, ere this plot be known 
Stand by me and secure the throne. 
Stand like the King who rules below, 
Stand aided by thy brother's bow: 
How can the might of meaner men 
Resist thy royal purpose then? 
My shafts, if rebels court their fate, 
Shall lay Ayodhya desolate. 
Then shall her streets with blood be dyed 
Of those who stand on Bharat's side: 



Canto XXI. Kausalya Calmed. 407 

None shall my slaughtering hand exempt, 

For gentle patience earns contempt. 

If, by Kaikeyi's counsel changed, 

Our father's heart be thus estranged, 

No mercy must our arm restrain, 

But let the foe be slain, be slain. 

For should the guide, respected long, 

No more discerning right and wrong, 

Turn in forbidden paths to stray, 

Tis meet that force his steps should stay. 

What power sufficient can he see, 

What motive for the wish has he, 

That to Kaikeyi would resign 

The empire which is justly thine? 

Can he, O conqueror of thy foes, 

Thy strength and mine in war oppose? 

Can he entrust, in our despite, 

To Bharat's hand thy royal right? 

I love this brother with the whole 

Affection of my faithful soul. 

Yea Queen, by bow and truth I swear, 

By sacrifice, and gift, and prayer, 

If Rama to the forest goes, 

Or where the burning furnace glows, 

First shall my feet the forest tread, 

The flames shall first surround my head. 

My might shall chase thy grief and tears, 

As darkness flies when morn appears. 

Do thou, dear Queen, and Rama too 

Behold what power like mine can do. 

My aged father I will kill, 

The vassal of Kaikeyi's will, 

Old, yet a child, the woman's thrall, 

Infirm, and base, the scorn of all." 



408 The Ramayana 

Thus Lakshman cried, the mighty-souled: 
Down her sad cheeks the torrents rolled, 
As to her son Kausalya spake: 

"Now thou hast heard thy brother, take 
His counsel if thou hold it wise, 
And do the thing his words advise, 
Do not, my son, with tears I pray, 
My rival's wicked word obey, 
Leave me not here consumed with woe, 
Nor to the wood, an exile, go. 
If thou, to virtue ever true, 
Thy duty's path would still pursue, 
The highest duty bids thee stay 
And thus thy mother's voice obey. 
Thus Kasyap's great ascetic son 
A seat among the Immortals won: 
In his own home, subdued, he stayed, 
And honour to his mother paid. 
If reverence to thy sire be due, 
Thy mother claims like honour too, 
And thus I charge thee, O my child, 
Thou must not seek the forest wild. 
Ah, what to me were life and bliss, 
Condemned my darling son to miss? 
But with my Rama near, to eat 
The very grass itself were sweet. 
But if thou still wilt go and leave 
Thy hapless mother here to grieve, 
I from that hour will food abjure, 
Nor life without my son endure. 
Then it will be thy fate to dwell 
In depth of world-detested hell. 
As Ocean in the olden time 



Canto XXI. Kausalya Calmed. 409 

Was guilty of an impious crime 

That marked the lord of each fair flood 

As one who spills a Brahman's blood." 288 

Thus spake the queen, and wept, and sighed: 
Then righteous Rama thus replied: 
"I have no power to slight or break 
Commandments which my father spake. 
I bend my head, dear lady, low, 
Forgive me, for I needs must go. 
Once Kandu, mighty saint, who made 

His dwelling in the forest shade, [119] 

A cow — and duty's claims he knew — 
Obedient to his father, slew. 
And in the line from which we spring, 
When ordered by their sire the king, 
Through earth the sons of Sagar cleft, 
And countless things of life bereft. 289 
So Jamadagni's son 290 obeyed 
His sire, when in the wood he laid 
His hand upon his axe, and smote 
Through Renuka his mother's throat. 
The deeds of these and more beside. 
Peers of the Gods, my steps shall guide, 
And resolute will I fulfil 
My father's word, my father's will. 
Nor I, O Queen, unsanctioned tread 
This righteous path, by duty led: 
The road my footsteps journey o'er 
Was traversed by the great of yore. 



288 The commentators say that, in a former creation, Ocean grieved his mother 
and suffered in consequence the pains of hell. 



410 The Ramayana 

This high command which all accept 

Shall faithfully by me be kept, 

For duty ne'er will him forsake 

Who fears his sire's command to break." 

Thus to his mother wild with grief: 
Then thus to Lakshman spake the chief 
Of those by whom the bow is bent, 
Mid all who speak, most eloquent: 
"I know what love for me thou hast, 
What firm devotion unsurpassed: 
Thy valour and thy worth I know, 
And glory that appals the foe. 
Blest youth, my mother's woe is great, 
It bends her 'neath its matchless weight: 
No claims will she, with blinded eyes, 
Of truth and patience recognize. 
For duty is supreme in place, 
And truth is duty's noblest base. 
Obedient to my sire's behest 
I serve the cause of duty best. 
For man should truly do whate'er 
To mother, Brahman, sire, he sware: 
He must in duty's path remain, 
Nor let his word be pledged in vain. 
And, O my brother, how can I 
Obedience to this charge deny? 
Kaikeyfs tongue my purpose spurred, 
But 'twas my sire who gave the word. 
Cast these unholy thoughts aside 
Which smack of war and Warriors' pride; 
To duty's call, not wrath attend, 
And tread the path which I commend." 



Canto XXI. Kausalya Calmed. 411 

Rama by fond affection moved 
His brother Lakshman thus reproved; 
Then with joined hands and reverent head 
Again to Queen Kausalya said: 

"I needs must go — do thou consent — 
To the wild wood in banishment. 
O give me, by my life I pray, 
Thy blessing ere I go away. 
I, when the promised years are o'er, 
Shall see Ayodhya's town once more. 
Then, mother dear, thy tears restrain, 
Nor let thy heart be wrung by pain: 
In time, my father's will obeyed, 
Shall I return from greenwood shade. 
My dear Videhan, thou, and I, 
Lakshman, Sumitra, feel this tie, 
And must my father's word obey, 
As duty bids that rules for aye. 
Thy preparations now forgo, 
And lock within thy breast thy woe, 
Nor be my pious wish withstood 
To go an exile to the wood." 

Calm and unmoved the prince explained 

His duty's claim and purpose high, 
The mother life and sense regained, 

Looked on her son and made reply: 
"If reverence be thy father's due, 

The same by right and love is mine: 
Go not, my charge I thus renew, 

Nor leave me here in woe to pine, 
What were such lonely life to me, 

Rites to the shades, or deathless lot? 



412 The Ramayana 

More dear, my son, one hour with thee 

Than all the world where thou art not." 
As bursts to view, when brands blaze high, 

Some elephant concealed by night, 
So, when he heard his mother's cry, 

Burnt Rama's grief with fiercer might. 
Thus to the queen, half senseless still, 

And Lakshman, burnt with heart-felt pain, 
True to the right, with steadfast will, 

His duteous speech he spoke again: 
"Brother, I know thy loving mind, 

Thy valour and thy truth I know, 
But now to claims of duty blind 

Thou and my mother swell my woe. 
The fruits of deeds in human life 

Make love, gain, duty, manifest, 
Dear when they meet as some fond wife 

With her sweet babes upon her breast. 
But man to duty first should turn 

Whene'er the three are not combined: 
For those who heed but gain we spurn, 

And those to pleasure all resigned. 
Shall then the virtuous disobey 

Hosts of an aged king and sire, 
Though feverous joy that father sway, 

Or senseless love or causeless ire? 
I have no power, commanded thus, 

To slight his promise and decree: 
The honoured sire of both of us, 

My mother's lord and life is he. 
Shall she, while yet the holy king 

Is living, on the right intent, — 
Shall she, like some poor widowed thing, 

Go forth with me to banishment? 



Canto XXII. Lakshman Calmed. 4 1 3 

Now, mother, speed thy parting son, 

And let thy blessing soothe my pain, [120] 

That I may turn, mine exile done, 

Like King Yayati, home again. 
Fair glory and the fruit she gives, 

For lust of sway I ne'er will slight: 
What, for the span a mortal lives. 

Were rule of faith without the right?" 
He soothed her thus, firm to the last 

His counsel to his brother told: 
Then round the queen in reverence passed, 

And held her in his loving hold. 



Canto XXII. Lakshman Calmed. 



So Rama kept unshaken still 
His noble heart with iron will. 
To his dear brother next he turned, 
Whose glaring eyes with fury burned, 
Indignant, panting like a snake, 
And thus again his counsel spake: 
"Thine anger and thy grief restrain, 
And firm in duty's path remain. 
Dear brother, lay thy scorn aside, 
And be the right thy joy and pride. 
Thy ready zeal and thoughtful care 
To aid what rites should grace the heir,— 
These 'tis another's now to ask; 
Come, gird thee for thy noble task, 
That Bharat's throning rites may he 
Graced with the things prepared for me. 



414 The Ramayana 

And with thy gentle care provide 

That her fond heart, now sorely tried 

With fear and longing for my sake, 

With doubt and dread may never ache. 

To know that thoughts of coming ill 

One hour that tender bosom fill 

With agony and dark despair 

Is grief too great for me to bear. 

I cannot, brother, call to mind 

One wilful fault or undesigned, 

When I have pained in anything 

My mothers or my sire the king. 

The right my father keeps in view, 

In promise, word, and action true; 

Let him then all his fear dismiss, 

Nor dread the loss of future bliss. 

He fears his truth herein will fail: 

Hence bitter thoughts his heart assail. 

He trembles lest the rites proceed, 

And at his pangs my heart should bleed. 

So now this earnest wish is mine, 

The consecration to resign, 

And from this city turn away 

To the wild wood with no delay. 

My banishment to-day will free 

Kaikeyi from her cares, that she, 

At last contented and elate, 

May Bharat's throning celebrate. 

Then will the lady's trouble cease, 

Then will her heart have joy and peace, 

When wandering in the wood I wear 

Deerskin, and bark, and matted hair. 

Nor shall by me his heart be grieved 

Whose choice approved, whose mind conceived 



Canto XXII. Lakshman Calmed. 4 1 5 

This counsel which I follow. No, 

Forth to the forest will I go. 

Tis Fate, Sumitras son, confess, 

That sends me to the wilderness. 

'Tis Fate alone that gives away 

To other hands the royal sway. 

How could Kaikeyfs purpose bring 

On me this pain and suffering, 

Were not her change of heart decreed 

By Fate whose will commands the deed? 

I know my filial love has been 

The same throughout for every queen, 

And with the same affection she 

Has treated both her son and me. 

Her shameful words of cruel spite 

To stay the consecrating rite, 

And drive me banished from the throne, — 

These I ascribe to Fate alone, 

How could she, born of royal race, 

Whom nature decks with fairest grace, 

Speak like a dame of low degree 

Before the king to torture me? 

But Fate, which none may comprehend, 

To which all life must bow and bend, 

In her and me its power has shown, 

And all my hopes are overthrown. 

What man, Sumitra's darling, may 

Contend with Fate's resistless sway, 

Whose all-commanding power we find 

Our former deeds alone can bind? 

Our life and death, our joy and pain, 

Anger and fear, and loss and gain, 

Each thing that is, in every state, 

All is the work of none but Fate. 



416 The Ramayana 

E'en saints, inspired with rigid zeal, 
When once the stroke of Fate they feel, 
In sternest vows no more engage, 
And fall enslaved by love and rage. 
So now the sudden stroke whose weight 
Descends unlooked for, comes of Fate, 
And with unpitying might destroys 
The promise of commencing joys. 
Weigh this true counsel in thy soul: 
With thy firm heart thy heart control; 
Then, brother, thou wilt cease to grieve 
For hindered rites which now I leave. 
So cast thy needless grief away, 
And strictly my commands obey. 
Those preparations check with speed, 
Nor let my throning rites proceed. 
Those urns that stand prepared to shed 
King-making drops upon my head, 
Shall, with their pure lustrations now 
[121] Inaugurate my hermit's vow. 

Yet what have I to do with things 
That touch the state and pomp of kings? 
These hands of mine shall water take 
To sanctify the vow I make. 
Now Lakshman, let thy heart no more 
My fortune changed and lost deplore. 
A forest life more joys may bring 
Than those that wait upon a king, 
Now though her arts successful mar 

My consecrating rite, 
Let not the youngest queen too far 

Thy jealous fear excite. 
Nor let one thought suggesting ill 

Upon our father fall, 



Canto XXIII. Lakshman's Anger. 417 

But let thy heart remember still 
That Fate is lord of all." 



Canto XXIII. Lakshman's Anger. 



Thus Rama to his brother said; 

And Lakshman bent his drooping head. 

In turns by grief and pride impelled, 

A middle course of thought he held, 

Then in a frown of anger, bent 

His brows that chief most excellent, 

And like a serpent in his hole, 

Breathed fierce and fast in wrath of soul. 

His threatening brows so darkly frowned, 

His eyes so fiercely glanced around, 

They made his glare, which none might brook, 

Like some infuriate lion's look. 

Like some wild elephant, full oft 

He raised and shook his hand 291 aloft. 

Now turned his neck to left and right 

Now bent, now raised its stately height. 

Now in his rage that sword he felt 

Which mangling wounds to foemen dealt, 

With sidelong glance his brother eyed, 

And thus in burning words replied: 

"Thy rash resolve, thy eager haste, 

Thy mighty fear, are all misplaced: 

No room is here for duty's claim, 



291 The Sanskrit word hasta signifies both hand, and the trunk of "The beast 
that bears between his eyes a serpent for a head." 



418 The Ramayana 

No cause to dread the people's blame. 
Can one as brave as thou consent 
To use a coward's argument? 
The glory of the Warrior race 
With craven speech his lips debase? 
Can one like thee so falsely speak, 
Exalting Fate, confessed so weak? 
Canst thou, undoubting still restrain? 
Suspicions of those sinful twain? 
Canst thou, most duteous, fail to know 
Their hearts are set on duty's show? 
They with deceit have set their trains, 
And now the fruit rewards their pains. 
Had they not long ago agreed, 

Rama, on this treacherous deed, 
That promised boon, so long retained, 
He erst had given and she had gained. 

1 cannot, O my brother, bear 
To see another throned as heir 
With rites which all our people hate: 
Then, O, this passion tolerate. 

This vaunted duty which can guide 

Thy steps from wisdom's path aside, 

And change the counsel of thy breast, 

O lofty-hearted, I detest. 

Wilt thou, when power and might are thine, 

Submit to this abhorred design? 

Thy father's impious hest fulfil, 

That vassal of Kaikeyi's will? 

But if thou still wilt shut thine eyes, 

Nor see the guile herein that lies, 

My soul is sad, I deeply mourn, 

And duty seems a thing to scorn. 

Canst thou one moment think to please 



Canto XXIII. Lakshman's Anger. 419 

This pair who live for love and ease, 

And 'gainst thy peace, as foes, allied, 

With tenderest names their hatred hide? 

Now if thy judgment still refers 

To Fate this plot of his and hers, 

My mind herein can ne'er agree: 

And O, in this be ruled by me. 

Weak, void of manly pride are they 

Who bend to Fate's imputed sway: 

The choicest souls, the nobly great 

Disdain to bow their heads to Fate. 

And he who dares his Fate control 

With vigorous act and manly soul, 

Though threatening Fate his hopes assail, 

Unmoved through all need never quail. 

This day mankind shall learn aright 

The power of Fate and human might, 

So shall the gulf that lies between 

A man and Fate be clearly seen. 

The might of Fate subdued by me 

This hour the citizens shall see, 

Who saw its intervention stay 

Thy consecrating rites to-day. 

My power shall turn this Fate aside, 

That threatens, as, with furious stride, 

An elephant who scorns to feel, 

In rage unchecked, the driver's steel. 

Not the great Lords whose sleepless might 

Protects the worlds, shall stay the rite 

Though earth, hell, heaven combine their powers: 

And shall we fear this sire of ours? 

Then if their minds are idly bent 

To doom thee, King, to banishment, 

Through twice seven years of exile they [122] 



420 The Ramayana 

Shall in the lonely forest stay. 
I will consume the hopes that fire 
The queen Kaikeyi and our sire, 
That to her son this check will bring 
Advantage, making Bharat king. 
The power of Fate will ne'er withstand 
The might that arms my vigorous hand; 
If danger and distress assail, 
My fearless strength will still prevail. 
A thousand circling years shall flee: 
The forest then thy home shall be, 
And thy good sons, succeeding, hold 
The empire which their sire controlled. 
The royal saints, of old who reigned, 
For aged kings this rest ordained: 
These to their sons their realm commit 
That they, like sires, may cherish it. 
O pious soul, if thou decline 
The empire which is justly thine, 
Lest, while the king distracted lies, 
Disorder in the state should rise, 
I, — or no mansion may I find 
In worlds to hero souls assigned, — 
The guardian of thy realm will be, 
As the sea-bank protects the sea. 
Then cast thine idle fears aside: 
With prosperous rites be sanctified. 
The lords of earth may strive in vain: 
My power shall all their force restrain. 
My pair of arms, my warrior's bow 
Are not for pride or empty show: 
For no support these shafts were made; 
And binding up ill suits my blade: 
To pierce the foe with deadly breach — 



Canto XXIII. Lakshman's Anger. 421 

This is the work of all and each. 
But small, methinks the love I show 
For him I count my mortal foe. 
Soon as my trenchant steel is bare, 
Flashing its lightning through the air, 
I heed no foe, nor stand aghast 
Though Indra's self the levin cast. 
Then shall the ways be hard to pass, 
Where chariots lie in ruinous mass; 
When elephant and man and steed 
Crushed in the murderous onslaught bleed, 
And legs and heads fall, heap on heap, 
Beneath my sword's tremendous sweep. 
Struck by my keen brand's trenchant blade, 
Thine enemies shall fall dismayed, 
Like towering mountains rent in twain, 
Or lightning clouds that burst in rain. 
When armed with brace and glove I stand, 
And take my trusty bow in hand, 
Who then shall vaunt his might? who dare 
Count him a man to meet me there? 
Then will I loose my shafts, and strike 
Man, elephant, and steed alike: 
At one shall many an arrow fly, 
And many a foe with one shall die. 
This day the world my power shall see, 
That none in arms can rival me: 
My strength the monarch shall abase, 
And set thee, lord, in lordliest place. 
These arms which breathe the sandal's scent, 
Which golden bracelets ornament, 
These hands which precious gifts bestow, 
Which guard the friend and smite the foe, 
A nobler service shall assay, 



422 The Ramayana 

And fight in Rama's cause to-day, 
The robbers of thy rights to stay. 

Speak, brother, tell thy foeman's name 

Whom I, in conquering strife, 
May strip of followers and fame, 

Of fortune, or of life. 
Say, how may all this sea-girt land 

Be brought to own thy sway: 
Thy faithful servant here I stand 

To listen and obey." 
Then strove the bride of Raghu's race 

Sad Lakshman's heart to cheer, 
While slowly down the hero's face, 

Unchecked, there rolled a tear. 
"The orders of my sire," he cried, 

"My will shall ne'er oppose: 
I follow still, whate'er betide, 

The path which duty shows." 



Canto XXIV. Kausalya Calmed. 

But when Kausalyasaw that he 
Resolved to keep his sire's decree, 
While tears and sobs her utterance broke, 
Her very righteous speech she spoke: 
"Can he, a stranger yet to pain, 
Whose pleasant words all hearts enchain, 
Son of the king and me the queen, 
Live on the grain his hands may glean; 
Can he, whose slaves and menials eat 
The finest cakes of sifted wheat — 



Canto XXIV. Kausalya Calmed. 423 

Can Rama in the forest live 

On roots and fruit which woodlands give; 

Who will believe, who will not fear 

When the sad story smites his ear, 

That one so dear, so noble held, 

Is by the king his sire expelled? 

Now surely none may Fate resist, 

Which orders all as it may list, 

If, Rama, in thy strength and grace, 

The woods become thy dwelling-place. 

A childless mother long I grieved, 

And many a sigh for offspring heaved, 

With wistful longing weak and worn 

Till thou at last, my son, wast born. 

Fanned by the storm of that desire 

Deep in my soul I felt the fire, 

Whose offerings flowed from weeping eyes, 

With fuel fed of groans and sighs, [123] 

While round the flame the smoke grew hot 

Of tears because thou earnest not. 

Now reft of thee, too fiery fierce 

The flame of woe my heart will pierce, 

As, when the days of spring return, 

The sun's hot beams the forest burn. 

The mother cow still follows near 

The wanderings of her youngling dear. 

So close to thine my feet shall be, 

Where'er thou goest following thee." 

Rama, the noblest lord of men, 
Heard his fond mother's speech, and then 
In soothing words like these replied 
To the sad queen who wept and sighed: 
"Nay, by Kaikeyfs art beguiled, 



424 The Ramayana 

When I am banished to the wild, 

If thou, my mother, also fly, 

The aged king will surely die. 

When wedded dames their lords forsake, 

Long for the crime their souls shall ache. 

Thou must not e'en in thought within 

Thy bosom frame so dire a sin. 

Long as Kakutstha's son, who reigns 

Lord of the earth, in life remains, 

Thou must with love his will obey: 

This duty claims, supreme for aye. 

Yes, mother, thou and I must be 

Submissive to my sire's decree, 

King, husband, sire is he confessed, 

The lord of all, the worthiest. 

I in the wilds my days will spend 

Till twice seven years have reached an end, 

Then with great joy will come again, 

And faithful to thy hests remain." 

Kausalya by her son addressed, 
With love and passion sore distressed, 
Afflicted, with her eyes bedewed, 
To Rama thus her speech renewed: 

"Nay, Rama, but my heart will break 
If with these queens my home I make. 
Lead me too with thee; let me go 
And wander like a woodland roe." 

Then, while no tear the hero shed, 
Thus to the weeping queen he said: 
"Mother, while lives the husband, he 
Is woman's lord and deity. 
O dearest lady, thou and I 
Our lord and king must ne'er deny; 



Canto XXIV. Kausalya Calmed. 425 

The lord of earth himself have we 
Our guardian wise and friend to be. 
And Bharat, true to duty's call, 
Whose sweet words take the hearts of all, 
Will serve thee well, and ne'er forget 
The virtuous path before him set. 
Be this, I pray, thine earnest care, 
That the old king my father ne'er, 
When I have parted hence, may know, 
Grieved for his son, a pang of woe. 
Let not this grief his soul distress, 
To kill him with the bitterness. 
With duteous care, in every thing, 
Love, comfort, cheer the aged king. 
Though, best of womankind, a spouse 
Keeps firmly all her fasts and vows, 
Nor yet her husband's will obeys, 
She treads in sin's forbidden ways. 
She to her husband's will who bends, 
Goes to high bliss that never ends, 
Yea, though the Gods have found in her 
No reverential worshipper. 
Bent on his weal, a woman still 
Must seek to do her husband's will: 
For Scripture, custom, law uphold 
This duty Heaven revealed of old. 
Honour true Brahmans for my sake, 
And constant offerings duly make, 
With fire-oblations and with flowers, 
To all the host of heavenly powers. 
Look to the coming time, and yearn 
For the glad hour of my return. 
And still thy duteous course pursue, 
Abstemious, humble, kind, and true. 



426 The Ramayana 

The highest bliss shalt thou obtain 
When I from exile come again, 
If, best of those who keep the right, 
The king my sire still see the light." 

The queen, by Rama thus addressed, 
Still with a mother's grief oppressed, 
While her long eyes with tears were dim, 
Began once more and answered him: 
"Not by my pleading may be stayed 
The firm resolve thy soul has made. 
My hero, thou wilt go; and none 
The stern commands of Fate may shun. 
Go forth, dear child whom naught can bend, 
And may all bliss thy steps attend. 
Thou wilt return, and that dear day 
Will chase mine every grief away. 
Thou wilt return, thy duty done, 
Thy vows discharged, high glory won; 
From filial debt wilt thou be free, 
And sweetest joy will come on me. 
My son, the will of mighty Fate 
At every time must dominate, 
If now it drives thee hence to stray 
Heedless of me who bid thee stay. 
Go, strong of arm, go forth, my boy, 
Go forth, again to come with joy, 
And thine expectant mother cheer 
With those sweet tones she loves to hear. 
O that the blessed hour were nigh 
When thou shalt glad this anxious eye, 
With matted hair and hermit dress 
returning from the wilderness." 

Kausalya's conscious soul approved, 



Canto XXV. Kausalya's Blessing. 427 

As her proud glance she bent 
On Rama constant and unmoved, 

Resolved on banishment. 
Such words, with happy omens fraught 

To her dear son she said, 
Invoking with each eager thought 

A blessing on his head. 



[124] 



Canto XXV. Kausalya's Blessing. 

Her grief and woe she cast aside, 
Her lips with water purified, 
And thus her benison began 
That mother of the noblest man: 
"If thou wilt hear no words of mine, 
Go forth, thou pride of Raghu's line. 
Go, darling, and return with speed, 
Walking where noble spirits lead. 
May virtue on thy steps attend, 
And be her faithful lover's friend. 
May Those to whom thy vows are paid 
In temple and in holy shade, 
With all the mighty saints combine 
To keep that precious life of thine. 
The arms wise Visvamitra 292 gave 
Thy virtuous soul from danger save. 
Long be thy life: thy sure defence 
Shall be thy truthful innocence, 



428 The Ramayana 

And that obedience, naught can tire, 
To me thy mother and thy sire. 
May fanes where holy fires are fed, 
Altars with grass and fuel spread, 
Each sacrificial ground, each tree, 
Rock, lake, and mountain, prosper thee. 
Let old Viraj, 293 and Him who made 
The universe, combine to aid; 
Let Indra and each guardian Lord 
Who keeps the worlds, their help afford, 
And be thy constant friend the Sun, 
Lord Piisha, Bhaga, Aryuman. 294 
Fortnights and seasons, nights and days, 
Years, months, and hours, protect thy ways, 
Vrihaspati shall still be nigh, 
The War-God, and the Moon on high, 
And Narad 295 and the sainted seven 296 
Shall watch thee from their starry heaven. 
The mountains, and the seas which ring 
The world, and Varuna the King, 
Sky, ether, and the wind, whate'er 
Moves not or moves, for thee shall care. 
Each lunar mansion be benign, 
With happier light the planets shine; 
All gods, each light in heaven that glows, 
Protect my child where'er he goes. 
The twilight hours, the day and night, 
Keep in the wood thy steps aright. 
Watch, minute, instant, as they flee, 
Shall all bring happiness to thee. 



293 The first progeny of Brahma or Brahma himself. 

294 These are three names of the Sun. 

295 See P. 1. 

296 The saints who form the constellation of Ursa Major. 



Canto XXV. Kausalya's Blessing. 429 

Celestials and the Titan brood 

Protect thee in thy solitude, 

And haunt the mighty wood to bless 

The wanderer in his hermit dress. 

Fear not, by mightier guardians screened, 

The giant or night-roving fiend; 

Nor let the cruel race who tear 

Man's flesh for food thy bosom scare. 

Far be the ape, the scorpion's sting, 

Fly, gnat, and worm, and creeping thing. 

Thee shall the hungry lion spare, 

The tiger, elephant, and bear: 

Safe, from their furious might repose, 

Safe from the horned buffaloes. 

Each savage thing the forests breed, 

That love on human flesh to feed, 

Shall for my child its rage abate, 

When thus its wrath I deprecate. 

Blest be thy ways: may sweet success 

The valour of my darling bless. 

To all that Fortune can bestow, 

Go forth, my child, my Rama, go. 

Go forth, O happy in the love 

Of all the Gods below, above; 

And in those guardian powers confide 

Thy paths who keep, thy steps who guide. 

May Sukra, 297 Yama, Sun, and Moon, 

And He who gives each golden boon, 298 

Won by mine earnest prayers, be good 

To thee, my son, in Dandak wood. 

Fire, wind, and smoke, each text and spell 

From mouths of holy seers that fell, 



297 The regent of the planet Venus. 



430 The Ramayana 

Guard Rama when his limbs he dips, 
Or with the stream makes pure his lips ! 
May the great saints and He, the Lord 
Who made the worlds, by worlds adored, 
And every God in heaven beside 
My banished Rama keep and guide." 



Thus with due praise the long-eyed dame, 
Ennobled by her spotless fame, 
With wreaths of flowers and precious scent 
Worshipped the Gods, most reverent. 
A high-souled Brahman lit the fire, 
And offered, at the queen's desire, 
The holy oil ordained to burn 
For Rama's weal and safe return. 
Kausalya best of dames, with care 
Set oil, wreaths, fuel, mustard, there. 
Then when the rites of fire had ceased, 
For Rama's bliss and health, the priest, 
Standing without gave what remained 
[125] In general offering, 299 as ordained. 

Dealing among the twice-horn train 
Honey, and curds, and oil, and grain, 
He bade each heart and voice unite 
To bless the youthful anchorite. 
Then Rama's mother, glorious dame 
Bestowed, to meet the Brahman's claim, 
A lordly fee for duty done: 
And thus again addressed her son: 



299 Bali, or the presentation of food to all created beings, is one of the five great 
sacraments of the Hindu religion: it consists in throwing a small parcel of the 
offering, Ghee, or rice, or the like, into the open air at the back of the house. 



Canto XXV. Kausalya's Blessing. 43 1 

"Such blessings as the Gods o'erjoyed 
Poured forth, when Vritra 300 was destroyed, 
On Indra of the thousand eyes, 
Attend, my child, thine enterprise! 
Yea, such as Vinata once gave 
To King Suparna 301 swift and brave, 
Who sought the drink that cheers the skies, 
Attend, my child, thine enterprise! 
Yea, such as, when the Amrit rose, 302 
And Indra slew his Daitya foes, 
The royal Aditi bestowed 
On Him whose hand with slaughter glowed 
Of that dire brood of monstrous size, 
Attend, my child, thine enterprise! 
E'en such as peerless Vishnu graced, 
When with his triple step he paced, 
Outbursting from the dwarf's disguise, 303 
Attend, my child, thine enterprise! 
Floods, isles, and seasons as they fly, 
Worlds, Vedas, quarters of the sky, 
Combine, O mighty-armed, to bless 
Thee destined heir of happiness!" 

The long-eyed lady ceased: she shed 
Pure scent and grain upon his head. 
And that prized herb whose sovereign power 
Preserves from dark misfortune's hour, 
Upon the hero's arm she set, 
To be his faithful amulet. 
While holy texts she murmured low, 

300 In mythology, a demon slain by Indra. 

301 Called also Garud, the King of the birds, offspring of Vinata. See p. 53. 



432 The Ramayana 

And spoke glad words though crushed by woe, 

Concealing with obedient tongue 

The pangs with which her heart was wrung. 

She bent, she kissed his brow, she pressed 

Her darling to her troubled breast: 

"Firm in thy purpose, go," she cried, 

"Go Rama, and may bliss betide. 

Attain returning safe and well, 

Triumphant in Ayodhya, dwell. 

Then shall my happy eyes behold 

The empire by thy will controlled. 

Then grief and care shall leave no trace, 

Joy shall light up thy mother's face, 

And I shall see my darling reign, 

In moonlike glory come again. 

These eyes shall fondly gaze on thee 

So faithful to thy sire's decree, 

When thou the forest wild shalt quit 

On thine ancestral throne to sit. 

Yea, thou shalt turn from exile back, 

Nor choicest blessings ever lack, 

Then fill with rapture ever new 

My bosom and thy consort's too. 

To Siva and the heavenly host 
My worship has been paid, 

To mighty saint, to godlike ghost, 
To every wandering shade. 

Forth to the forest thou wilt hie, 
Therein to dwell so long: 

Let all the quarters of the sky 
Protect my child from wrong." 

Her blessings thus the queen bestowed; 
Then round him fondly paced, 

And often, while her eyes o'erflowed, 



Canto XXVI. Alone With Sita. 433 

Her dearest son embraced. 
Kausalya's honoured feet he pressed, 

As round her steps she bent, 
And radiant with her prayers that blessed, 

To Sita's home he went. 



Canto XXVI. Alone With Sita. 



So Rama, to his purpose true, 

To Queen Kausalya bade adieu, 

Received the benison she gave, 

And to the path of duty clave. 

As through the crowded street he passed, 

A radiance on the way he cast, 

And each fair grace, by all approved, 

The bosoms of the people moved. 

Now of the woeful change no word 
The fair Videhan bride had heard; 
The thought of that imperial rite 
Still filled her bosom with delight. 
With grateful heart and joyful thought 
The Gods in worship she had sought, 
And, well in royal duties learned, 
Sat longing till her lord returned, 
Not all unmarked by grief and shame 
Within his sumptuous home he came, 
And hurried through the happy crowd 
With eye dejected, gloomy-browed. 
Up Sita sprang, and every limb 
Trembled with fear at sight of him. 



434 The Ramayana 

She marked that cheek where anguish fed, 
Those senses care-disquieted. 
For, when he looked on her, no more 
Could his heart hide the load it bore, 
Nor could the pious chief control 
The paleness o'er his cheek that stole. 
His altered cheer, his brow bedewed 
With clammy drops, his grief she viewed, 
And cried, consumed with fires of woe, 
[126] "What, O my lord, has changed thee so? 

Vrihaspati looks down benign, 
And the moon rests in Pushya's sign, 
As Brahmans sage this day declare: 
Then whence, my lord, this grief and care? 
Why does no canopy, like foam 
For its white beauty, shade thee home, 
Its hundred ribs spread wide to throw 
Splendour on thy fair head below? 
Where are the royal fans, to grace 
The lotus beauty of thy face, 
Fair as the moon or wild-swan's wing, 
And waving round the new-made king? 
Why do no sweet-toned bards rejoice 
To hail thee with triumphant voice? 
No tuneful heralds love to raise 
Loud music in their monarch's praise? 
Why do no Brahmans, Scripture-read, 
Pour curds and honey on thy head, 
Anointed, as the laws ordain, 
With holy rites, supreme to reign? 
Where are the chiefs of every guild? 
Where are the myriads should have filled 
The streets, and followed home their king 
With merry noise and triumphing? 



Canto XXVI. Alone With Sita. 435 

Why does no gold-wrought chariot lead 
With four brave horses, best for speed? 
No elephant precede the crowd 
Like a huge hill or thunder cloud, 
Marked from his birth for happy fate, 
Whom signs auspicious decorate? 
Why does no henchman, young and fair, 
Precede thee, and delight to bear 
Entrusted to his reverent hold 
The burthen of thy throne of gold? 
Why, if the consecrating rite 
Be ready, why this mournful plight? 
Why do I see this sudden change, 
This altered mien so sad and strange?" 

To her, as thus she weeping cried, 
Raghu's illustrious son replied: 

"Sita, my honoured sire's decree 
Commands me to the woods to flee. 
O high-born lady, nobly bred 
In the good paths thy footsteps tread, 
Hear, Janak's daughter, while I tell 
The story as it all befell. 
Of old my father true and brave 
Two boons to Queen Kaikeyi gave. 
Through these the preparations made 
For me to-day by her are stayed, 
For he is bound to disallow 
This promise by that earlier vow. 
In Dandak forest wild and vast 
Must fourteen years by me be passed. 
My father's will makes Bharat heir, 
The kingdom and the throne to share. 
Now, ere the lonely wild I seek, 



436 The Ramayana 

I come once more with thee to speak. 

In Bharat's presence, O my dame, 

Ne'er speak with pride of Rama's name: 

Another's eulogy to hear 

Is hateful to a monarch's ear. 

Thou must with love his rule obey 

To whom my father yields the sway. 

With love and sweet observance learn 

His grace, and more the king's, to earn. 

Now, that my father may not break 

The words of promise that he spake, 

To the drear wood my steps are bent: 

Be firm, good Sita, and content. 

Through all that time, my blameless spouse, 

Keep well thy fasts and holy vows. 

Rise from thy bed at break of day, 

And to the Gods due worship pay. 

With meek and lowly love revere 

The lord of men, my father dear, 

And reverence to Kausalya show, 

My mother, worn with eld and woe: 

By duty's law, O best of dames, 

High worship from thy love she claims, 

Nor to the other queens refuse 

Observance, rendering each her dues: 

By love and fond attention shown 

They are my mothers like mine own. 

Let Bharat and Satrughna bear 

In thy sweet love a special share: 

Dear as my life, O let them be 

Like brother and like son to thee. 

In every word and deed refrain 

From aught that Bharat's soul may pain: 

He is Ayodhya's king and mine, 



Canto XXVII. Sita's Speech. 437 

The head and lord of all our line. 
For those who serve and love them much 
With weariless endeavour, touch 
And win the gracious hearts of kings. 
While wrath from disobedience springs. 
Great monarchs from their presence send 
Their lawful sons who still offend, 
And welcome to the vacant place 
Good children of an alien race. 
Then, best of women, rest thou here, 
And Bharat's will with love revere. 
Obedient to thy king remain, 
And still thy vows of truth maintain. 

To the wide wood my steps I bend: 
Make thou thy dwelling here; 

See that thy conduct ne'er offend, 
And keep my words, my dear." 



Canto XXVII. Sita's Speech. 



His sweetly-speaking bride, who best 

Deserved her lord, he thus addressed. 

Then tender love bade passion wake, 

And thus the fair Videhan spake: 

"What words are these that thou hast said? 

Contempt of me the thought has bred. 

O best of heroes, I dismiss 

With bitter scorn a speech like this: [127] 



438 The Ramayana 

Unworthy of a warrior's fame 

It taints a monarch's son with shame, 

Ne'er to be heard from those who know 

The science of the sword and bow. 

My lord, the mother, sire, and son 

Receive their lots by merit won; 

The brother and the daughter find 

The portions to their deeds assigned. 

The wife alone, whate'er await, 

Must share on earth her husband's fate. 

So now the king's command which sends 

Thee to the wild, to me extends. 

The wife can find no refuge, none, 

In father, mother, self, or son: 

Both here, and when they vanish hence, 

Her husband is her sole defence. 

If, Raghu's son, thy steps are led 

Where Dandak's pathless wilds are spread, 

My foot before thine own shall pass 

Through tangled thorn and matted grass. 

Dismiss thine anger and thy doubt: 

Like refuse water cast them out, 

And lead me, O my hero, hence — 

I know not sin — with confidence. 

Whate'er his lot, 'tis far more sweet 

To follow still a husband's feet 

Than in rich palaces to lie, 

Or roam at pleasure through the sky. 

My mother and my sire have taught 

What duty bids, and trained each thought, 

Nor have I now mine ear to turn 

The duties of a wife to learn. 

I'll seek with thee the woodland dell 

And pathless wild where no men dwell, 



Canto XXVII. Sita's Speech. 439 

Where tribes of silvan creatures roam, 

And many a tiger makes his home. 

My life shall pass as pleasant there 

As in my father's palace fair. 

The worlds shall wake no care in me; 

My only care be truth to thee. 

There while thy wish I still obey, 

True to my vows with thee I'll stray, 

And there shall blissful hours be spent 

In woods with honey redolent. 

In forest shades thy mighty arm 

Would keep a stranger's life from harm, 

And how shall Sita think of fear 

When thou, O glorious lord, art near? 

Heir of high bliss, my choice is made, 

Nor can I from my will be stayed. 

Doubt not; the earth will yield me roots, 

These will I eat, and woodland fruits; 

And as with thee I wander there 

I will not bring thee grief or care. 

I long, when thou, wise lord, art nigh, 

All fearless, with delighted eye 

To gaze upon the rocky hill, 

The lake, the fountain, and the rill; 

To sport with thee, my limbs to cool, 

In some pure lily-covered pool, 

While the white swan's and mallard's wings 

Are plashing in the water-springs. 

So would a thousand seasons flee 

Like one sweet day, if spent with thee. 

Without my lord I would not prize 

A home with Gods above the skies: 

Without my lord, my life to bless, 

Where could be heaven or happiness? 



440 The Ramayana 

Forbid me not: with thee I go 

The tangled wood to tread. 
There will I live with thee, as though 

This roof were o'er my head. 
My will for thine shall be resigned; 

Thy feet my steps shall guide. 
Thou, only thou, art in my mind: 

I heed not all beside. 
Thy heart shall ne'er by me be grieved; 

Do not my prayer deny: 
Take me, dear lord; of thee bereaved 

Thy Sita swears to die." 
These words the duteous lady spake, 

Nor would he yet consent 
His faithful wife with him to take 

To share his banishment. 
He soothed her with his gentle speech; 

To change her will he strove; 
And much he said the woes to teach 

Of those in wilds who rove. 



Canto XXVIII. The Dangers Of The Wood. 

Thus Sita spake, and he who knew 
His duty, to its orders true, 
Was still reluctant as the woes 
Of forest life before him rose. 
He sought to soothe her grief, to dry 
The torrent from each brimming eye, 
And then, her firm resolve to shake, 
These words the pious hero spake: 



Canto XXVIII. The Dangers Of The Wood. 44 1 

"O daughter of a noble line, 
Whose steps from virtue ne'er decline, 
Remain, thy duties here pursue, 
As my fond heart would have thee do. 
Now hear me, Sita, fair and weak, 
And do the words that I shall speak. 
Attend and hear while I explain 
Each danger in the wood, each pain. 
Thy lips have spoken: I condemn 
The foolish words that fell from them. 
This senseless plan, this wish of thine 
To live a forest life, resign. 
The names of trouble and distress 
Suit well the tangled wilderness. 
In the wild wood no joy I know, 
A forest life is nought but woe. 
The lion in his mountain cave 
Answers the torrents as they rave, 
And forth his voice of terror throws: 

The wood, my love, is full of woes. [128] 

There mighty monsters fearless play, 
And in their maddened onset slay 
The hapless wretch who near them goes: 
The wood, my love, is full of woes. 
'Tis hard to ford each treacherous flood, 
So thick with crocodiles and mud, 
Where the wild elephants repose: 
The wood, my love, is full of woes. 
Or far from streams the wanderer strays 
Through thorns and creeper-tangled ways, 
While round him many a wild-cock crows: 
The wood, my love, is full of woes. 
On the cold ground upon a heap 
Of gathered leaves condemned to sleep, 



442 The Ramayana 

Toil-wearied, will his eyelids close: 

The wood, my love, is full of woes. 

Long days and nights must he content 

His soul with scanty aliment, 

What fruit the wind from branches blows: 

The wood, my love, is full of woes. 

O Sita, while his strength may last, 

The ascetic in the wood must fast, 

Coil on his head his matted hair, 

And bark must be his only wear. 

To Gods and spirits day by day 

The ordered worship he must pay, 

And honour with respectful care 

Each wandering guest who meets him there. 

The bathing rites he ne'er must shun 

At dawn, at noon, at set of sun, 

Obedient to the law he knows: 

The wood, my love, is full of woes. 

To grace the altar must be brought 

The gift of flowers his hands have sought — 

The debt each pious hermit owes: 

The wood, my love, is full of woes. 

The devotee must be content 

To live, severely abstinent, 

On what the chance of fortune shows: 

The wood, my love, is full of woes. 

Hunger afflicts him evermore: 

The nights are black, the wild winds roar; 

And there are dangers worse than those: 

The wood, my love, is full of woes. 

There creeping things in every form 

Infest the earth, the serpents swarm, 

And each proud eye with fury glows: 

The wood, my love, is full of woes. 



Canto XXIX. Sita's Appeal. 443 

The snakes that by the rives hide 
In sinuous course like rivers glide, 
And line the path with deadly foes: 
The wood, my love, is full of woes. 
Scorpions, and grasshoppers, and flies 
Disturb the wanderer as he lies, 
And wake him from his troubled doze: 
The wood, my love, is full of woes. 
Trees, thorny bushes, intertwined, 
Their branched ends together bind, 
And dense with grass the thicket grows: 
The wood, my dear, is full of woes, 
With many ills the flesh is tried, 
When these and countless fears beside 
Vex those who in the wood remain: 
The wilds are naught but grief and pain. 
Hope, anger must be cast aside, 
To penance every thought applied: 
No fear must be of things to fear: 
Hence is the wood for ever drear. 
Enough, my love: thy purpose quit: 
For forest life thou art not fit. 
As thus I think on all, I see 
The wild wood is no place for thee." 



Canto XXIX. Sita's Appeal. 

Thus Rama spake. Her lord's address 
The lady heard with deep distress, 
And, as the tear bedimmed her eye, 
In soft low accents made reply: 



444 The Ramayana 

"The perils of the wood, and all 

The woes thou countest to appal, 

Led by my love I deem not pain; 

Each woe a charm, each loss a gain. 

Tiger, and elephant, and deer, 

Bull, lion, buffalo, in fear, 

Soon as thy matchless form they see, 

With every silvan beast will flee. 

With thee, O Rama, I must go: 

My sire's command ordains it so. 

Bereft of thee, my lonely heart 

Must break, and life and I must part. 

While thou, O mighty lord, art nigh, 

Not even He who rules the sky, 

Though He is strongest of the strong, 

With all his might can do me wrong. 

Nor can a lonely woman left 

By her dear husband live bereft. 

In my great love, my lord, I ween, 

The truth of this thou mayst have seen. 

In my sire's palace long ago 

I heard the chief of those who know, 

The truth-declaring Brahmans, tell 

My fortune, in the wood to dwell. 

I heard their promise who divine 

The future by each mark and sign, 

And from that hour have longed to lead 

The forest life their lips decreed. 

Now, mighty Rama, I must share 

Thy father's doom which sends thee there; 

In this I will not be denied, 

But follow, love, where thou shalt guide. 

O husband, I will go with thee, 

Obedient to that high decree. 



Canto XXIX. Sfta's Appeal. 445 

Now let the Brahmans' words be true, 

For this the time they had in view. 

I know full well the wood has woes; 

But they disturb the lives of those 

Who in the forest dwell, nor hold 

Their rebel senses well controlled. [129] 

In my sire's halls, ere I was wed, 

I heard a dame who begged her bread 

Before my mother's face relate 

What griefs a forest life await. 

And many a time in sport I prayed 

To seek with thee the greenwood shade, 

For O, my heart on this is set, 

To follow thee, dear anchoret. 

May blessings on thy life attend: 

I long with thee my steps to bend, 

For with such hero as thou art 

This pilgrimage enchants my heart. 

Still close, my lord, to thy dear side 

My spirit will be purified: 

Love from all sin my soul will free: 

My husband is a God to me. 

So, love, with thee shall I have bliss 

And share the life that follows this. 

I heard a Brahman, dear to fame, 

This ancient Scripture text proclaim: 

"The woman whom on earth below 

Her parents on a man bestow, 

And lawfully their hands unite 

With water and each holy rite, 

She in this world shall be his wife, 

His also in the after life." 

Then tell me, O beloved, why 

Thou wilt this earnest prayer deny, 



446 The Ramayana 

Nor take me with thee to the wood, 
Thine own dear wife so true and good. 
But if thou wilt not take me there 
Thus grieving in my wild despair, 
To fire or water I will fly, 
Or to the poisoned draught, and die." 

So thus to share his exile, she 
Besought him with each earnest plea, 
Nor could she yet her lord persuade 
To take her to the lonely shade. 
The answer of the strong-armed chief 
Smote the Videhan's soul with grief, 
And from her eyes the torrents came 
bathing the bosom of the dame. 



Canto XXX. The Triumph Of Love. 



The daughter of Videha's king, 
While Rama strove to soothe the sting 
Of her deep anguish, thus began 
Once more in furtherance of her plan: 
And with her spirit sorely tried 
By fear and anger, love and pride, 
With keenly taunting words addressed 
Her hero of the stately breast: 
"Why did the king my sire, who reigns 
O'er fair Videha's wide domains, 
Hail Rama son with joy unwise, 
A woman in a man's disguise? 
Now falsely would the people say, 



Canto XXX. The Triumph Of Love. 447 

By idle fancies led astray, 

That Rama's own are power and might, 

As glorious as the Lord of Light. 

Why sinkest thou in such dismay? 

What fears upon thy spirit weigh, 

That thou, O Rama, fain wouldst flee 

From her who thinks of naught but thee? 

To thy dear will am I resigned 

In heart and body, soul and mind, 

As Savitri gave all to one, 

Satyavan, Dyumatsena's son. 304 

Not e'en in fancy can I brook 

To any guard save thee to look: 

Let meaner wives their houses shame, 

To go with thee is all my claim. 

Like some low actor, deemst thou fit 

Thy wife to others to commit — 

Thine own, espoused in maiden youth, 

Thy wife so long, unblamed for truth? 

Do thou, my lord, his will obey 

For whom thou losest royal sway, 

To whom thou wouldst thy wife confide — 

Not me, but thee, his wish may guide. 

Thou must not here thy wife forsake, 

And to the wood thy journey make, 

Whether stern penance, grief, and care, 

Or rule or heaven await thee there. 

Nor shall fatigue my limbs distress 

When wandering in the wilderness: 

Each path which near to thee I tread 

Shall seem a soft luxurious bed. 



304 The story of Savitri, told in the Mahabharat, has been admirably translated 
by Ruckert, and elegantly epitomized by Mrs. Manning in India, Ancient and 
Medieval. There is a free rendering of the story in Idylls from the Sanskrit. 



448 The Ramayana 

The reeds, the bushes where I pass, 
The thorny trees, the tangled grass 
Shall feel, if only thou be near, 
Soft to my touch as skins of deer. 
When the rude wind in fury blows, 
And scattered dust upon me throws, 
That dust, beloved lord, to me 
Shall as the precious sandal be. 
And what shall be more blest than I, 
When gazing on the wood I lie 
In some green glade upon a bed 
With sacred grass beneath us spread? 
The root, the leaf, the fruit which thou 
Shalt give me from the earth or bough, 
Scanty or plentiful, to eat, 
Shall taste to me as Amrit sweet. 
As there I live on flowers and roots 
And every season's kindly fruits, 
I will not for my mother grieve, 
My sire, my home, or all I leave. 
My presence, love, shall never add 
[130] One pain to make the heart more sad; 

I will not cause thee grief or care, 
Nor be a burden hard to bear. 
With thee is heaven, where'er the spot; 
Each place is hell where thou art not. 
Then go with me, O Rama; this 
Is all my hope and all my bliss. 
If thou wilt leave thy wife who still 
Entreats thee with undaunted will, 
This very day shall poison close 
The life that spurns the rule of foes. 
How, after, can my soul sustain 
The bitter life of endless pain, 



Canto XXX. The Triumph Of Love. 449 

When thy dear face, my lord, I miss? 

No, death is better far than this. 

Not for an hour could I endure 

The deadly grief that knows not cure, 

Far less a woe I could not shun 

For ten long years, and three, and one." 

While fires of woe consumed her, such 
Her sad appeal, lamenting much; 
Then with a wild cry, anguish-wrung, 
About her husband's neck she clung. 
Like some she-elephant who bleeds 
Struck by the hunter's venomed reeds, 
So in her quivering heart she felt 
The many wounds his speeches dealt. 
Then, as the spark from wood is gained, 305 
Down rolled the tear so long restrained: 
The crystal moisture, sprung from woe, 
From her sweet eyes began to flow, 
As runs the water from a pair 
Of lotuses divinely fair. 
And Sita's face with long dark eyes, 
Pure as the moon of autumn skies, 
Faded with weeping, as the buds 
Of lotuses when sink the floods. 
Around his wife his arms he strained, 
Who senseless from her woe remained, 
And with sweet words, that bade her wake 
To life again, the hero spake: 
"I would not with thy woe, my Queen, 
Buy heaven and all its blissful sheen. 
Void of all fear am I as He, 



Fire for sacrificial purposes is produced by the attrition of two pieces of 
wood. 



450 The Ramayana 

The self-existent God, can be. 

I knew not all thy heart till now, 

Dear lady of the lovely brow, 

So wished not thee in woods to dwell; 

Yet there mine arm can guard thee well. 

Now surely thou, dear love, wast made 

To dwell with me in green wood shade. 

And, as a high saint's tender mind 

Clings to its love for all mankind, 

So I to thee will ever cling, 

Sweet daughter of Videha's king. 

The good, of old, O soft of frame, 

Honoured this duty's sovereign claim, 

And I its guidance will not shun, 

True as light's Queen is to the Sun. 

I cannot, pride of Janak's line, 

This journey to the wood decline: 

My sire's behest, the oath he sware, 

The claims of truth, all lead me there. 

One duty, dear the same for aye, 

Is sire and mother to obey: 

Should I their orders once transgress 

My very life were weariness. 

If glad obedience be denied 

To father, mother, holy guide, 

What rites, what service can be done 

That stern Fate's favour may be won? 

These three the triple world comprise, 

O darling of the lovely eyes. 

Earth has no holy thing like these 

Whom with all love men seek to please. 

Not truth, or gift, or bended knee, 

Not honour, worship, lordly fee, 

Storms heaven and wins a blessing thence 



Canto XXX. The Triumph Of Love. 45 1 

Like sonly love and reverence. 

Heaven, riches, grain, and varied lore, 

With sons and many a blessing more, 

All these are made their own with ease 

By those their elders' souls who please. 

The mighty-souled, who ne'er forget, 

Devoted sons, their filial debt, 

Win worlds where Gods and minstrels are, 

And Brahma's sphere more glorious far. 

Now as the orders of my sire, 

Who keeps the way of truth, require, 

So will I do, for such the way 

Of duty that endures for aye: 

To take thee, love, to Dandak's wild 

My heart at length is reconciled, 

For thee such earnest thoughts impel 

To follow, and with me to dwell. 

O faultless form from feet to brows, 

Come with me, as my will allows, 

And duty there with me pursue, 

Trembler, whose bright eyes thrill me through. 

In all thy days, come good come ill, 

Preserve unchanged such noble will, 

And thou, dear love, wilt ever be 

The glory of thy house and me. 

Now, beauteous-armed, begin the tasks 

The woodland life of hermits asks. 

For me the joys of heaven above 

Have charms no more without thee, love. 

And now, dear Sita, be not slow: 

Food on good mendicants bestow, 

And for the holy Brahmans bring 

Thy treasures and each precious thing. 

Thy best attire and gems collect, 



452 The Ramayana 

The jewels which thy beauty decked, 
And every ornament and toy 
Prepared for hours of sport and joy: 
The beds, the cars wherein I ride, 
Among our followers, next, divide." 

She conscious that her lord approved 
[131] Her going, with great rapture moved, 

Hastened within, without delay, 
Prepared to give their wealth away. 



Canto XXXI. Lakshman's Prayer. 

When Lakshman, who had joined them there, 

Had heard the converse of the pair, 

His mien was changed, his eyes o'erflowed, 

His breast no more could bear its load. 

The son of Raghu, sore distressed, 

His brother's feet with fervour pressed, 

While thus to Sita he complained, 

And him by lofty vows enchained: 

"If thou wilt make the woods thy home, 

Where elephant and roebuck roam, 

I too this day will take my bow 

And in the path before thee go. 

Our way will lie through forest ground 

Where countless birds and beasts are found, 

I heed not homes of Gods on high, 

I heed not life that cannot die, 

Nor would I wish, with thee away, 

O'er the three worlds to stretch my sway." 



Canto XXXI. Lakshman's Prayer. 453 

Thus Lakshman spake, with earnest prayer 
His brother's woodland life to share. 
As Rama still his prayer denied 
With soothing words, again he cried: 
"When leave at first thou didst accord, 
Why dost thou stay me now, my lord? 
Thou art my refuge: O, be kind, 
Leave me not, dear my lord, behind. 
Thou canst not, brother, if thou choose 
That I still live, my wish refuse." 

The glorious chief his speech renewed 
To faithful Lakshman as he sued, 
And on the eyes of Rama gazed 
Longing to lead, with hands upraised: 
"Thou art a hero just and dear, 
Whose steps to virtue's path adhere, 
Loved as my life till life shall end, 
My faithful brother and my friend. 
If to the woods thou take thy way 
With Sita and with me to-day, 
Who for Kausalya will provide, 
And guard the good Sumitra's side? 
The lord of earth, of mighty power, 
Who sends good things in plenteous shower, 
As Indra pours the grateful rain, 
A captive lies in passion's chain. 
The power imperial for her son 
Has Asvapati's daughter 306 won, 
And she, proud queen, will little heed 
Her miserable rivals' need. 
So Bharat, ruler of the land, 
By Queen Kaikeyi's side will stand, 

306 Kaikeyf. 



454 The Ramayana 

Nor of those two will ever think, 
While grieving in despair they sink. 
Now, Lakshman, as thy love decrees, 
Or else the monarch's heart to please, 
Follow this counsel and protect 
My honoured mother from neglect. 
So thou, while not to me alone 
Thy great affection will be shown, 
To highest duty wilt adhere 
By serving those thou shouldst revere. 
Now, son of Raghu, for my sake 
Obey this one request I make, 
Or, of her darling son bereft, 
Kausalya has no comfort left." 

The faithful Lakshman, thus addressed 
In gentle words which love expressed, 
To him in lore of language learned, 
His answer, eloquent, returned: 

"Nay, through thy might each queen will share 
Attentive Bharat's love and care, 
Should Bharat, raised as king to sway 
This noblest realm, his trust betray, 
Nor for their safety well provide, 
Seduced by ill-suggesting pride, 
Doubt not my vengeful hand shall kill 
The cruel wretch who counsels ill — 
Kill him and all who lend him aid, 
And the three worlds in league arrayed. 
And good Kausalya well can fee 
A thousand champions like to me. 
A thousand hamlets rich in grain 
The station of that queen maintain. 



Canto XXXI. Lakshman's Prayer. 455 

She may, and my dear mother too, 
Live on the ample revenue. 
Then let me follow thee: herein: 
Is naught that may resemble sin. 
So shall I in my wish succeed, 
And aid, perhaps, my brother's need. 
My bow and quiver well supplied 
With arrows hanging at my side, 
My hands shall spade and basket bear, 
And for thy feet the way prepare. 
I'll bring thee roots and berries sweet. 
And woodland fare which hermits eat. 
Thou shall with thy Videhan spouse 
Recline upon the mountain's brows; 
Be mine the toil, be mine to keep 
Watch o'er thee waking or asleep." 

Filled by his speech with joy and pride, 
Rama to Lakshman thus replied: 
"Go then, my brother, bid adieu 
To all thy friends and retinue. 
And those two bows of fearful might, 
Celestial, which, at that famed rite, 
Lord Varun gave to Janak, king 
Of fair Vedeha with thee bring, 
With heavenly coats of sword-proof mail, 

Quivers, whose arrows never fail, [132] 

And golden-hilted swords so keen, 
The rivals of the sun in sheen. 
Tended with care these arms are all 
Preserved in my preceptor's hall. 
With speed, O Lakshman, go, produce, 
And bring them hither for our use." 
So on a woodland life intent, 



456 The Ramayana 

To see his faithful friends he went, 

And brought the heavenly arms which lay 

By Rama's teacher stored away. 

And Raghu's son to Rama showed 

Those wondrous arms which gleamed and glowed, 

Well kept, adorned with many a wreath 

Of flowers on case, and hilt, and sheath. 

The prudent Rama at the sight 

Addressed his brother with delight: 

"Well art thou come, my brother dear, 

For much I longed to see thee here. 

For with thine aid, before I go, 

I would my gold and wealth bestow 

Upon the Brahmans sage, who school 

Their lives by stern devotion's rule. 

And for all those who ever dwell 

Within my house and serve me well, 

Devoted servants, true and good, 

Will I provide a livelihood. 

Quick, go and summon to this place 
The good Vasishtha's son, 

Suyajna, of the Brahman race 
The first and holiest one. 

To all the Brahmans wise and good 
Will I due reverence pay, 

Then to the solitary wood 
With thee will take my way." 



Canto XXXII. The Gift Of The Treasures. 



Canto XXXII. The Gift Of The Treasures. 457 

That speech so noble which conveyed 
His friendly wish, the chief obeyed, 
With steps made swift by anxious thought 
The wise Suyajna's home he sought. 
Him in the hall of Fire 307 he found, 
And bent before him to the ground: 
"O friend, to Rama's house return, 
Who now performs a task most stern." 
He, when his noonday rites were done, 
Went forth with fair Sumitra's son, 
And came to Rama's bright abode 
Rich in the love which Lakshmi showed. 
The son of Raghu, with his dame, 
With joined hands met him as he came, 
Showing to him who Scripture knew 
The worship that is Agni's due. 
With armlets, bracelets, collars, rings, 
With costly pearls on golden strings, 
With many a gem for neck and limb 
The son of Raghu honoured him. 
Then Rama, at his wife's request, 
The wise Suyajna thus addressed: 
"Accept a necklace too to deck 
With golden strings thy spouse's neck. 
And Sita here, my friend, were glad 
A girdle to her gift to add. 
And many a bracelet wrought with care, 
And many an armlet rich and rare, 
My wife to thine is fain to give, 
Departing in the wood to live. 
A bed by skilful workmen made, 
With gold and various gems inlaid — 



307 The chapel where the sacred fire used in worship is kept. 



458 The Ramayana 

This too, before she goes, would she 
Present, O saintly friend, to thee. 
Thine be my elephant, so famed, 
My uncle's present, Victor named; 
And let a thousand coins of gold, 
Great Brahman, with the gift be told." 
Thus Rama spoke: nor he declined 
The noble gifts for him designed. 
On Rama, Lakshman, Sita he 
Invoked all high felicity. 

In pleasant words then Rama gave 
His best to Lakshman prompt and brave, 
As Brahma speaks for Him to hear 
Who rules the Gods' celestial sphere: 
"To the two best of Brahmans run; 
Agastya bring, and Kusik's son, 
And precious gifts upon them rain, 
Like fostering floods upon the grain. 
O long-armed Prince of Raghu's line, 
Delight them with a thousand kine, 
And many a fair and costly gem, 
With gold and silver, give to them. 
To him, so deep in Scripture, who, 
To Queen Kausalya, ever true, 
Serves her with blessing and respect, 
Chief of the Taittiriya sect 308 — 
To him, with women-slaves, present 
A chariot rich with ornament, 
And costly robes of silk beside, 
Until the sage be satisfied. 
On Chitraratha, true and dear, 
My tuneful bard and charioteer, 



308 The students and teachers of the Taittiriya portion of the Yajur Veda. 



Canto XXXII. The Gift Of The Treasures. 459 

Gems, robes, and plenteous wealth confer — 

Mine ancient friend and minister. 

And these who go with staff in hand, 

Grammarians trained, a numerous band, 

Who their deep study only prize, 

Nor think of other exercise, 

Who toil not, loving dainty fare, 

Whose praises e'en the good declare — 

On these be eighty cars bestowed, 

And each with precious treasures load. [133] 

A thousand bulls for them suffice, 

Two hundred elephants of price, 

And let a thousand kine beside 

The dainties of each meal provide. 

The throng who sacred girdles wear, 

And on Kausalya wait with care — 

A thousand golden coins shall please, 

Son of Sumitra, each of these. 

Let all, dear Lakshman of the train 

These special gifts of honour gain: 

My mother will rejoice to know 

Her Brahmans have been cherished so." 

Then Raghu's son addressed the crowd 
Who round him stood and wept aloud, 
When he to all who thronged the court 
Had dealt his wealth for their support: 
"In Lakshman's house and mine remain, 
And guard them till I come again." 
To all his people sad with grief, 
In loving words thus spoke their chief, 
Then bade his treasure-keeper bring 
Gold, silver, and each precious thing. 
Then straight the servants went and bore 



460 The Ramayana 

Back to their chief the wealth in store. 

Before the people's eyes it shone, 

A glorious pile to look upon. 

The prince of men with Lakshman's aid 

Parted the treasures there displayed, 

Gave to the poor, the young, the old, 

And twice-born men, the gems and gold. 

A Brahman, long in evil case, 
Named Trijat, born of Garga's race, 
Earned ever toiling in a wood 
With spade and plough his livelihood. 
The youthful wife, his babes who bore, 
Their indigence felt more and more. 
Thus to the aged man she spake: 
"Hear this my word: my counsel take. 
Come, throw thy spade and plough away; 
To virtuous Rama go to-day, 
And somewhat of his kindness pray." 

He heard the words she spoke: around 
His limbs his ragged cloth he wound, 
And took his journey by the road 
That led to Rama's fair abode. 
To the fifth court he made his way; 
Nor met the Brahman check or stay. 
Brighu, Angiras 309 could not be 
Brighter with saintly light than he. 
To Rama's presence on he pressed, 
And thus the noble chief addressed: 
"O Rama, poor and weak am I, 
And many children round me cry. 



309 Two of the divine personages called Prajdpatis and Brahmddikas who were 
first created by Brahma. 



Canto XXXII. The Gift Of The Treasures. 46 1 

Scant living in the woods I earn: 
On me thine eye of pity turn." 
And Rama, bent on sport and jest, 
The suppliant Brahman thus addressed: 
"O aged man, one thousand kine, 
Yet undistributed, are mine. 
The cows on thee will I bestow 
As far as thou thy staff canst throw." 

The Brahman heard. In eager haste 
He bound his cloth around his waist. 
Then round his head his staff he whirled, 
And forth with mightiest effort hurled. 
Cast from his hand it flew, and sank 
To earth on Sarjii's farther bank, 
Where herds of kine in thousands fed 
Near to the well-stocked bullock shed. 
And all the cows that wandered o'er 
The meadow, far as Sarjii's shore, 
At Rama's word the herdsmen drove 
To Trijat's cottage in the grove. 
He drew the Brahman to his breast, 
And thus with calming words addressed: 
"Now be not angry, Sire. I pray: 
This jest of mine was meant in play. 
These thousand kine, but not alone. 
Their herdsmen too, are all thine own. 
And wealth beside I give thee: speak, 
Thine shall be all thy heart can seek." 

Thus Rama spake. And Trijat prayed 
For means his sacrifice to aid. 
And Rama gave much wealth, required 
To speed his offering as desired. 



462 The Ramayana 

Canto XXXIII. The People's Lament. 

Thus Sita and the princes brave 
Much wealth to all the Brahmans gave. 
Then to the monarch's house the three 
Went forth the aged king to see. 
The princes from two servants took 
Those heavenly arms of glorious look, 
Adorned with garland and with band 
By Sita's beautifying hand. 
On each high house a mournful throng 
Had gathered ere they passed along, 
Who gazed in pure unselfish woe 
From turret, roof, and portico. 
So dense the crowd that blocked the ways, 
The rest, unable there to gaze, 
Were fain each terrace to ascend, 
And thence their eyes on Rama bend. 
Then as the gathered multitude 
On foot their well-loved Rama viewed, 
No royal shade to screen his head, 
Such words, disturbed in grief, they said: 
"O look, our hero, wont to ride 
Leading a host in perfect pride — 
Now Lakshman, sole of all his friends, 
With Sita on his steps attends. 
Though he has known the sweets of power, 
And poured his gifts in liberal shower, 
[134] From duty's path he will not swerve, 

But, still his father's truth preserve. 
And she whose form so soft and fair 
Was veiled from spirits of the air, 
Now walks unsheltered from the day, 
Seen by the crowds who throng the way. 



Canto XXXIII. The People's Lament. 463 

Ah, for that gently-nurtured form! 
How will it fade with sun and storm! 
How will the rain, the cold, the heat 
Mar fragrant breast and tinted feet! 
Surely some demon has possessed 
His sire, and speaks within his breast, 
Or how could one that is a king 
Thus send his dear son wandering? 
It were a deed unkindly done 
To banish e'en a worthless son: 
But what, when his pure life has gained 
The hearts of all, by love enchained? 
Six sovereign virtues join to grace 
Rama the foremost of his race: 
Tender and kind and pure is he, 
Docile, religious, passion-free. 
Hence misery strikes not him alone: 
In bitterest grief the people moan, 
Like creatures of the stream, when dry 
In the great heat the channels lie. 
The world is mournful with the grief 
That falls on its beloved chief, 
As, when the root is hewn away, 
Tree, fruit, and flower, and bud decay. 
The soul of duty, bright to see, 
He is the root of you and me; 
And all of us, who share his grief, 
His branches, blossom, fruit, and leaf. 
Now like the faithful Lakshman, we 
Will follow and be true as he; 
Our wives and kinsmen call with speed, 
And hasten where our lord shall lead. 
Yes, we will leave each well-loved spot, 
The field, the garden, and the cot, 



464 The Ramayana 

And, sharers of his weal and woe, 

Behind the pious Rama go. 

Our houses, empty of their stores, 

With ruined courts and broken doors, 

With all their treasures borne away. 

And gear that made them bright and gay: 

O'errun by rats, with dust o'erspread, 

Shrines, whence the deities have fled, 

Where not a hand the water pours, 

Or sweeps the long-neglected floors, 

No incense loads the evening air, 

No Brahmans chant the text and prayer, 

No fire of sacrifice is bright, 

No gift is known, no sacred rite; 

With floors which broken vessels strew, 

As if our woes had crushed them too — 

Of these be stern Kaikeyi queen, 

And rule o'er homes where we have been. 

The wood where Rama's feet may roam 

Shall be our city and our home, 

And this fair city we forsake, 

Our flight a wilderness shall make. 

Each serpent from his hole shall hie, 

The birds and beasts from mountain fly, 

Lions and elephants in fear 

Shall quit the woods when we come near, 

Yield the broad wilds for us to range, 

And take our city in exchange. 

With Rama will we hence, content 

If, where he is, our days be spent." 

Such were the varied words the crowd 
Of all conditions spoke aloud. 
And Rama heard their speeches, yet 



Canto XXXIV. Rama In The Palace. 465 

Changed not his purpose firmly set. 
His father's palace soon he neared, 
That like Kailasa's hill appeared. 
Like a wild elephant he strode 
Right onward to the bright abode. 
Within the palace court he stepped, 
Where ordered bands their station kept, 
And saw Sumantra standing near 
With down-cast eye and gloomy cheer. 



Canto XXXIV. Rama In The Palace. 



The dark incomparable chief 
Whose eye was like a lotus leaf, 
Cried to the mournful charioteer, 
"Go tell my sire that I am here." 

Sumantra, sad and all dismayed, 
The chieftain's order swift obeyed. 
Within the palace doors he hied 
And saw the king, who wept and sighed. 
Like the great sun when wrapped in shade 
Like fire by ashes overlaid, 
Or like a pool with waters dried, 
So lay the world's great lord and pride, 
A while the wise Sumantra gazed 
On him whose senses woe has dazed, 
Grieving for Rama. Near he drew 
With hands upraised in reverence due. 
With blessing first his king he hailed; 
Then with a voice that well-nigh failed, 



466 The Ramayana 

In trembling accents soft and low 
Addressed the monarch in his woe: 
"The prince of men, thy Rama, waits 
Before thee at the palace gates. 
His wealth to Brahmans he has dealt, 
And all who in his home have dwelt. 
Admit thy son. His friends have heard 
His kind farewell and parting word, 
He longs to see thee first, and then 
Will seek the wilds, O King of men. 
He, with each princely virtue's blaze, 
Shines as the sun engirt by rays." 



The truthful King who loved to keep 
The law profound as Ocean's deep, 
And stainless as the dark blue sky, 
[135] Thus to Sumantra made reply: 

"Go then, Sumantra, go and call 
My wives and ladies one and all. 
Drawn round me shall they fill the place 
When I behold my Rama's face." 



Quick to the inner rooms he sped, 
And thus to all the women said, 
"Come, at the summons of the king: 
Come all, and make no tarrying." 



Canto XXXIV. Rama In The Palace. 467 

Their husband's word, by him conveyed, 
Soon as they heard, the dames obeyed, 
And following his guidance all 
Came thronging to the regal hall. 
In number half seven hundred, they, 
All lovely dames, in long array, 
With their bright eyes for weeping red, 
To stand round Queen Kausalya, sped. 
They gathered, and the monarch viewed 
One moment all the multitude, 
Then to Sumantra spoke and said: 
"Now let my son be hither led." 

Sumantra went. Then Rama came, 
And Lakshman, and the Maithil dame, 
And, as he led them on, their guide 
Straight to the monarch's presence hied. 
When yet far off the father saw 
His son with raised palms toward him draw, 
Girt by his ladies, sick with woes, 
Swift from his royal seat he rose. 
With all his strength the aged man 
To meet his darling Rama ran, 
But trembling, wild with dark despair, 
Fell on the ground and fainted there. 
And Lakshman, wont in cars to ride, 
And Rama, threw them by the side 
Of the poor miserable king, 
Half lifeless with his sorrow's sting. 
Throughout the spacious hall up went 
A thousand women's wild lament: 
"Ah Rama!" thus they wailed and wept, 
And anklets tinkled as they stepped 
Around his body, weeping, threw 



468 The Ramayana 

Their loving arms the brothers two, 
And then, with Sita's gentle aid, 
The king upon a couch was laid. 
At length to earth's imperial lord, 
When life and knowledge were restored, 
Though seas of woe went o'er his head, 
With suppliant hand, thus Rama said: 
"Lord of us all, great King, thou art: 
Bid me farewell before we part, 
To Dandak wood this day I go: 
One blessing and one look bestow. 
Let Lakshman my companion be, 
And Sita also follow me. 
With truthful pleas I sought to bend 
Their purpose; but no ear they lend. 
Now cast this sorrow from thy heart, 
And let us all, great King, depart. 
As Brahma sends his children, so 
Let Lakshman, me, and Sita go." 



He stood unmoved, and watched intent 
Until the king should grant consent. 
Upon his son his eyes he cast, 
And thus the monarch spake at last: 
"O Rama, by her arts enslaved, 
I gave the boons Kaikeyi craved, 
Unfit to reign, by her misled: 
Be ruler in thy father's stead." 



Canto XXXIV. Rama In The Palace. 469 

Thus by the lord of men addressed, 
Rama, of virtue's friends the best, 
In lore of language duly learned, 
His answer, reverent, thus returned: 
"A thousand years, O King, remain 
O'er this our city still to reign. 
I in the woods my life will lead: 
The lust of rule no more I heed. 
Nine years and five I there will spend, 
And when the portioned days shall end, 
Will come, my vows and exile o'er, 
And clasp thy feet, my King, once more." 

A captive in the snare of truth, 
Weeping, distressed with woe and ruth, 
Thus spake the monarch, while the queen 
Kaikeyi urged him on unseen: 
"Go then, O Rama, and begin 
Thy course unvext by fear and sin: 
Go, my beloved son, and earn 
Success, and joy, and safe return. 
So fast the bonds of duty bind. 
O Raghu's son, thy truthful mind, 
That naught can turn thee back, or guide 
Thy will so strongly fortified. 
But O, a little longer stay, 
Nor turn thy steps this night away, 
That I one little day — alas! 
One only — with my son may pass. 
Me and thy mother do not slight, 
But stay, my son, with me to-night; 
With every dainty please thy taste, 
And seek to-morrow morn the waste. 
Hard is thy task, O Raghu's son, 



470 The Ramayana 

Dire is the toil thou wilt not shun, 

Far to the lonely wood to flee, 

And leave thy friends for love of me. 

I swear it by my truth, believe, 

For thee, my son, I deeply grieve, 

Misguided by the traitress dame 

With hidden guile like smouldering flame. 

Now, by her wicked counsel stirred, 

Thou fain wouldst keep my plighted word. 

No marvel that my eldest born 

Would hold me true when I have sworn." 

Then Rama having calmly heard 
His wretched father speak each word, 
With Lakshman standing by his side 
Thus, humbly, to the King replied: 
"If dainties now my taste regale, 
To-morrow must those dainties fail. 
This day departure I prefer 
To all that wealth can minister. 
O'er this fair land, no longer mine, 
[136] Which I, with all her realms, resign, 

Her multitudes of men, her grain, 
Her stores of wealth, let Bharat reign. 
And let the promised boon which thou 
Wast pleased to grant the queen ere now, 
Be hers in full. Be true, O King, 
Kind giver of each precious thing. 
Thy spoken word I still will heed, 
Obeying all thy lips decreed: 
And fourteen years in woods will dwell 
With those who live in glade and dell. 
No hopes of power my heart can touch, 
No selfish joys attract so much 



Canto XXXIV. Rama In The Palace. 47 1 

As son of Raghu, to fulfil 

With heart and soul my father's will. 

Dismiss, dismiss thy needless woe, 

Nor let those drowning torrents flow: 

The Lord of Rivers in his pride 

Keeps to the banks that bar his tide. 

Here in thy presence I declare; 

By thy good deeds, thy truth, I swear; 

Nor lordship, joy, nor lands I prize; 

Life, heaven, all blessings I despise. 

I wish to see thee still remain 

Most true, O King, and free from stain. 

It must not, Sire, it must not be: 

I cannot rest one hour with thee. 

Then bring this sorrow to an end, 

For naught my settled will can bend. 

I gave a pledge that binds me too, 

And to that pledge I still am true. 

Kaikeyi bade me speed away: 

She prayed me, and I answered yea. 

Pine not for me, and weep no more; 

The wood for us has joy in store, 

Filled with the wild deer's peaceful herds 

And voices of a thousand birds. 

A father is the God of each, 

Yea, e'en of Gods, so Scriptures teach: 

And I will keep my sire's decree, 

For as a God I honour thee. 

O best of men, the time is nigh, 

The fourteen years will soon pass by 

And to thine eyes thy son restore: 

Be comforted, and weep no more. 

Thou with thy firmness shouldst support 

These weeping crowds who throng the court; 



472 The Ramayana 

Then why, O chief of high renown, 
So troubled, and thy soul cast down?" 



Canto XXXV. Kaikeyi Reproached. 

Wild with the rage he could not calm, 
Sumantra, grinding palm on palm, 
His head in quick impatience shook, 
And sighed with woe he could not brook. 
He gnashed his teeth, his eyes were red, 
From his changed face the colour fled. 
In rage and grief that knew no law, 
The temper of the king he saw. 
With his word-arrows swift and keen 
He shook the bosom of the queen. 
With scorn, as though its lightning stroke 
Would blast her body, thus he spoke: 
"Thou, who, of no dread sin afraid, 
Hast Dasaratha's self betrayed, 
Lord of the world, whose might sustains 
Each thing that moves or fixed remains, 
What direr crime is left thee now? 
Death to thy lord and house art thou, 
Whose cruel deeds the king distress, 
Mahendra's peer in mightiness, 
Firm as the mountain's rooted steep, 
Enduring as the Ocean's deep. 
Despise not Dasaratha, he 
Is a kind lord and friend to thee. 
A loving wife in worth outruns 
The mother of ten million sons. 



Canto XXXV. Kaikeyi Reproached. 473 

Kings, when their sires have passed away, 

Succeed by birthright to the sway. 

Ikshvaku's son still rules the state, 

Yet thou this rule wouldst violate. 

Yea, let thy son, Kaikeyi, reign, 

Let Bharat rule his sire's domain. 

Thy will, O Queen, shall none oppose: 

We all will go where Rama goes. 

No Brahman, scorning thee, will rest 

Within the realm thou governest, 

But all will fly indignant hence: 

So great thy trespass and offence. 

I marvel, when thy crime I see, 

Earth yawns not quick to swallow thee; 

And that the Brahman saints prepare 

No burning scourge thy soul to scare, 

With cries of shame to smite thee, bent 

Upon our Rama's banishment. 

The Mango tree with axes fell, 

And tend instead the Neem tree well, 

Still watered with all care the tree 

Will never sweet and pleasant be. 

Thy mother's faults to thee descend, 

And with thy borrowed nature blend. 

True is the ancient saw: the Neem 

Can ne'er distil a honeyed stream. 

Taught by the tale of long ago 

Thy mother's hateful sin we know. 

A bounteous saint, as all have heard, 

A boon upon thy sire conferred, 

And all the eloquence revealed 

That fills the wood, the flood, the field. 

No creature walked, or swam, or flew, 

But he its varied language knew. 



474 The Ramayana 

One morn upon his couch he heard 
The chattering of a gorgeous bird. 
And as he marked its close intent 
He laughed aloud in merriment. 
Thy mother furious with her lord, 
And fain to perish by the cord, 
Said to her husband: "I would know, 
[137] O Monarch, why thou laughest so." 

The king in answer spake again: 
"If I this laughter should explain, 
This very hour would be my last, 
For death, be sure would follow fast." 
Again thy mother, flushed with ire, 
To Kekaya spake, thy royal sire: 
"Tell me the cause; then live or die: 
I will not brook thy laugh, not I." 
Thus by his darling wife addressed, 
The king whose might all earth confessed, 
To that kind saint his story told 
Who gave the wondrous gift of old. 
He listened to the king's complaint, 
And thus in answer spoke the saint: 
"King, let her quit thy home or die, 
But never with her prayer comply." 
The saint's reply his trouble stilled, 
And all his heart with pleasure filled. 
Thy mother from his home he sent, 
And days like Lord Kuvera's spent. 
So thou wouldst force the king, misled 
By thee, in evil paths to tread, 
And bent on evil wouldst begin, 
Through folly, this career of sin. 
Most true, methinks, in thee is shown 
The ancient saw so widely known: 



Canto XXXV. Kaikeyi Reproached. 475 

The sons their fathers' worth declare 
And girls their mothers' nature share. 
So be not thou. For pity's sake 
Accept the word the monarch spake. 
Thy husband's will, O Queen, obey, 
And be the people's hope and stay, 
O, do not, urged by folly, draw 
The king to tread on duty's law. 
The lord who all the world sustains, 
Bright as the God o'er Gods who reigns. 
Our glorious king, by sin unstained, 
Will never grant what fraud obtained; 
No shade of fault in him is seen: 
Let Rama be anointed, Queen. 
Remember, Queen, undying shame 
Will through the world pursue thy name, 
If Rama leave the king his sire, 
And, banished, to the wood retire. 
Come, from thy breast this fever fling: 
Of his own realm be Rama king. 
None in this city e'er can dwell 
To tend and love thee half so well. 
When Rama sits in royal place, 
True to the custom of his race 
Our monarch of the mighty bow 
A hermit to the woods will go." 310 



3 10 It was the custom of the kings of the solar dynasty to resign in their extreme 
old age the kingdom to the heir, and spend the remainder of their days in holy 
meditation in the forest: 

"For such through ages in their life's decline 
Is the good custom of Ikshvaku's line." 

Raghuransa. 



476 The Ramayana 

Sumantra thus, palm joined to palm, 
Poured forth his words of bane and balm, 
With keen reproach, with pleading kind, 
Striving to move Kaikeyi's mind. 
In vain he prayed, in vain reproved, 
She heard unsoftened and unmoved. 
Nor could the eyes that watched her view 
One yielding look, one change of hue. 



Canto XXXVI. Siddharth's Speech. 

Ikshvaku's son with anguish torn 
For the great oath his lips had sworn, 
With tears and sighs of sharpest pain 
Thus to Sumantra spake again: 
"Prepare thou quick a perfect force, 
Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse, 
To follow Raghu's scion hence 
Equipped with all magnificence. 
Let traders with the wealth they sell, 
And those who charming stories tell, 
And dancing-women fair of face, 
The prince's ample chariots grace. 
On all the train who throng his courts, 
And those who share his manly sports, 
Great gifts of precious wealth bestow, 
And bid them with their master go. 
Let noble arms, and many a wain, 
And townsmen swell the prince's train; 
And hunters best for woodland skill 
Their places in the concourse fill. 



Canto XXXVI. Siddharths Speech. 477 

While elephants and deer he slays, 
Drinking wood honey as he strays, 
And looks on streams each fairer yet, 
His kingdom he may chance forget. 
Let all my gold and wealth of corn 
With Rama to the wilds be borne; 
For it will soothe the exile's lot 
To sacrifice in each pure spot, 
Deal ample largess forth, and meet 
Each hermit in his calm retreat. 
The wealth shall Rama with him bear, 
Ayodhya shall be Bharat's share." 

As thus Kakutstha's offspring spoke, 
Fear in Kaikeyi's breast awoke. 
The freshness of her face was dried, 
Her trembling tongue was terror-tied. 
Alarmed and sad, with bloodless cheek, 
She turned to him and scarce could speak: 
"Nay, Sire, but Bharat shall not gain 
An empty realm where none remain. 
My Bharat shall not rule a waste 
Reft of all sweets to charm the taste — 
The wine-cup's dregs, all dull and dead, 
Whence the light foam and life are fled." 

Thus in her rage the long-eyed dame 
Spoke her dire speech untouched by shame. [138] 

Then, answering, Dasaratha spoke: 
"Why, having bowed me to the yoke, 
Dost thou, must cruel, spur and goad 
Me who am struggling with the load? 
Why didst thou not oppose at first 
This hope, vile Queen, so fondly nursed?" 



478 The Ramayana 

Scarce could the monarch's angry speech 
The ears of the fair lady reach, 
When thus, with double wrath inflamed, 
Kaikeyi to the king exclaimed: 

"Sagar, from whom thy line is traced, 
Drove forth his eldest son disgraced, 
Called Asamanj, whose fate we know: 
Thus should thy son to exile go." 

"Fie on thee, dame!" the monarch said; 
Each of her people bent his head, 
And stood in shame and sorrow mute: 
She marked not, bold and resolute. 
Then great Siddharth, inflamed with rage, 
The good old councillor and sage 
On whose wise rede the king relied, 
To Queen Kaikeyi thus replied: 
"But Asamanj the cruel laid 
His hands on infants as they played, 
Cast them to Sarju's flood, and smiled 
For pleasure when he drowned a child." 311 
The people saw, and, furious, sped 
Straight the the king his sire and said: 
"Choose us, O glory of the throne, 
Choose us, or Asamanj alone." 



311 See Book I, Canto XXXIX. An Indian prince in more modern times appears 
to have diverted himself in a similar way. 

It is still reported in Belgaum that Appay Deasy was wont to amuse himself 
"by making several young and beautiful women stand side by side on a narrow 
balcony, without a parapet, overhanging the deep reservoir at the new palace 
in Nipani. He used then to pass along the line of trembling creatures, and 
suddenly thrusting one of them headlong into the water below, he used to 
watch her drowning, and derive pleasure from her dying agonies." — History 
of the Belgaum District. By H. J. Stokes, M. S. C. 



Canto XXXVI. Siddharths Speech. 479 

"Whence comes this dread?" the monarch cried; 

And all the people thus replied: 

"In folly, King, he loves to lay 

Fierce hands upon our babes at play, 

Casts them to Sarju's flood and joys 

To murder our bewildered boys." 

With heedful ear the king of men 

Heard each complaining citizen. 

To please their troubled minds he strove, 

And from the state his son he drove. 

With wife and gear upon a car 

He placed him quick, and sent him far. 

And thus he gave commandment, "He 

Shall all his days an exile be." 

With basket and with plough he strayed 

O'er mountain heights, through pathless shade, 

Roaming all lands a weary time, 

An outcast wretch defiled with crime. 

Sagar, the righteous path who held, 

His wicked offspring thus expelled. 

But what has Rama done to blame? 

Why should his sentence be the same? 

No sin his stainless name can dim; 

We see no fault at all in him. 

Pure as the moon, no darkening blot 

On his sweet life has left a spot. 

If thou canst see one fault, e'en one, 

To dim the fame of Raghu's son, 

That fault this hour, O lady, show, 

And Rama to the wood shall go. 

To drive the guiltless to the wild, 

Truth's constant lover, undefiled, 

Would, by defiance of the right, 

The glory e'en of Indra blight. 



480 The Ramayana 

Then cease, O lady, and dismiss 
Thy hope to ruin Rama's bliss, 
Or all thy gain, O fair of face, 
Will be men's hatred, and disgrace." 



Canto XXXVII. The Coats Of Bark. 



Thus spake the virtuous sage: and then 
Rama addressed the king of men. 
In laws of meek behaviour bred, 
Thus to his sire he meekly said: 

"King, I renounce all earthly care, 
And live in woods on woodland fare. 
What, dead to joys, have I to do 
With lordly train and retinue! 
Who gives his elephant and yet 
Upon the girths his heart will set? 
How can a cord attract his eyes 
Who gives away the nobler prize? 
Best of the good, with me be led 
No host, my King with banners spread. 
All wealth, all lordship I resign: 
The hermit's dress alone be mine. 
Before I go, have here conveyed 
A little basket and a spade. 
With these alone I go, content, 
For fourteen years of banishment." 



Canto XXXVII. The Coats Of Bark. 481 

With her own hands Kaikeyi took 
The hermit coats of bark, and, "Look," 
She cried with bold unblushing brow 
Before the concourse, "Dress thee now." 
That lion leader of the brave 
Took from her hand the dress she gave, 

Cast his fine raiment on the ground, [139] 

And round his waist the vesture bound. 
Then quick the hero Lakshman too 
His garment from his shoulders threw, 
And, in the presence of his sire, 
Indued the ascetic's rough attire. 
But Sita, in her silks arrayed, 
Threw glances, trembling and afraid, 
On the bark coat she had to wear, 
Like a shy doe that eyes the snare. 
Ashamed and weeping for distress 
From the queen's hand she took the dress. 
The fair one, by her husband's side 
Who matched heaven's minstrel monarch, 312 cried: 
"How bind they on their woodland dress, 
Those hermits of the wilderness?" 

There stood the pride of Janak's race 
Perplexed, with sad appealing face. 
One coat the lady's fingers grasped, 
One round her neck she feebly clasped, 
But failed again, again, confused 
By the wild garb she ne'er had used. 
Then quickly hastening Rama, pride 
Of all who cherish virtue, tied 
The rough bark mantle on her, o'er 
The silken raiment that she wore. 



312 Chitraratha, King of the celestial choristers. 



482 The Ramayana 

Then the sad women when they saw 
Rama the choice bark round her draw, 
Rained water from each tender eye, 
And cried aloud with bitter cry: 
"O, not on her, beloved, not 
On Sita falls thy mournful lot. 
If, faithful to thy father's will, 
Thou must go forth, leave Sita still. 
Let Sita still remaining here 
Our hearts with her loved presence cheer. 
With Lakshman by thy side to aid 
Seek thou, dear son, the lonely shade. 
Unmeet, one good and fair as she 
Should dwell in woods a devotee. 
Let not our prayers be prayed in vain: 
Let beauteous Sita yet remain; 
For by thy love of duty tied 
Thou wilt not here thyself abide." 

Then the king's venerable guide 
Vasishtha, when he saw each coat 
Enclose the lady's waist and throat, 
Her zeal with gentle words repressed, 
And Queen Kaikeyi thus addressed: 
"O evil-hearted sinner, shame 
Of royal Kekaya's race and name; 
Who matchless in thy sin couldst cheat 
Thy lord the king with vile deceit; 
Lost to all sense of duty, know 
Sita to exile shall not go. 
Sita shall guard, as 'twere her own, 
The precious trust of Rama's throne. 
Those joined by wedlock's sweet control 
Have but one self and common soul. 



Canto XXXVII. The Coats Of Bark. 483 

Thus Sita shall our empress be, 
For Rama's self and soul is she. 
Or if she still to Rama cleave 
And for the woods the kingdom leave: 
If naught her loving heart deter, 
We and this town will follow her. 
The warders of the queen shall take 
Their wives and go for Rama's sake, 
The nation with its stores of grain, 
The city's wealth shall swell his train. 
Bharat, Satrughna both will wear 
Bark mantles, and his lodging share, 
Still with their elder brother dwell 
In the wild wood, and serve him well. 
Rest here alone, and rule thy state 
Unpeopled, barren, desolate; 
Be empress of the land and trees, 
Thou sinner whom our sorrows please. 
The land which Rama reigns not o'er 
Shall bear the kingdom's name no more: 
The woods which Rama wanders through 
Shall be our home and kingdom too. 
Bharat, be sure, will never deign 
O'er realms his father yields, to reign. 
Nay, if the king's true son he be, 
He will not, sonlike, dwell with thee. 
Nay, shouldst thou from the earth arise, 
And send thy message from the skies, 
To his forefathers' custom true 
No erring course would he pursue. 
So hast thou, by thy grievous fault, 
Offended him thou wouldst exalt. 
In all the world none draws his breath 
Who loves not Rama, true to death. 



484 The Ramayana 

This day, O Queen, shalt thou behold 
Birds, deer, and beasts from lea and fold 
Turn to the woods in Rama's train. 
And naught save longing trees remain." 



Canto XXXVIII. Care For Kausalya 

Then when the people wroth and sad 
Saw Sita in bark vesture clad, 
Though wedded, like some widowed thing, 
They cried out, "Shame upon thee, King!" 
Grieved by their cry and angry look 
The lord of earth at once forsook 
All hope in life that still remained, 
In duty, self, and fame unstained. 
Ikshvaku's son with burning sighs 
On Queen Kaikeyi bent his eyes, 
And said: "But Sita must not flee 
In garments of a devotee. 
My holy guide has spoken truth: 
[140] Unfit is she in tender youth, 

So gently nurtured, soft and fair, 
The hardships of the wood to share. 
How has she sinned, devout and true, 

The noblest monarch's child, 
That she should garb of bark indue 

And journey to the wild? 
That she should spend her youthful days 

Amid a hermit band, 
Like some poor mendicant who strays 

Sore troubled, through the land? 



Canto XXXVIII. Care For Kausalya 485 

Ah, let the child of Janak throw 
Her dress of bark aside, 

And let the royal lady go 
With royal wealth supplied. 

Not such the pledge I gave before, 
Unfit to linger here: 

The oath, which I the sinner swore 
Is kept, and leaves her clear. 

Won from her childlike love this too 
My instant death would be, 

As blossoms on the old bamboo 
Destroy the parent tree. 313 
If aught amiss by Rama done 
Offend thee, O thou wicked one, 
What least transgression canst thou find 
In her, thou worst of womankind? 
What shade of fault in her appears, 
Whose full soft eye is like the deer's? 
What canst thou blame in Janak's child, 
So gentle, modest, true, and mild? 
Is not one crime complete, that sent 
My Rama forth to banishment? 
And wilt thou other sins commit, 
Thou wicked one, to double it? 
This is the pledge and oath I swore, 
What thou besoughtest, and no more, 
Of Rama — for I heard thee, dame — 
When he for consecration came. 
Now with this limit not content, 
In hell should be thy punishment, 
Who fain the Maithil bride wouldst press 
To clothe her limbs with hermit dress." 



313 It is said that the bamboo dies after flowering. 



486 The Ramayana 

Thus spake the father in his woe; 
And Rama, still prepared to go, 
To him who sat with drooping head 
Spake in return these words and said: 

"Just King, here stands my mother dear, 
Kausalya, one whom all revere. 
Submissive, gentle, old is she, 
And keeps her lips from blame of thee, 
For her, kind lord, of me bereft 
A sea of whelming woe is left. 
O, show her in her new distress 
Still fonder love and tenderness. 
Well honoured by thine honoured hand 
Her grief for me let her withstand, 
Who wrapt in constant thought of me 
In me would live a devotee. 
Peer of Mahendra, O, to her be kind, 
And treat I pray, my gentle mother so, 
That, when I dwell afar, her life resigned, 
She may not pass to Yama's realm for woe." 



Canto XXXIX. Counsel To SM. 



Scarce had the sire, with each dear queen, 
Heard Rama's pleading voice, and seen 
His darling in his hermit dress 
Ere failed his senses for distress. 
Convulsed with woe, his soul that shook, 
On Raghu's son he could not look; 
Or if he looked with failing eye 



Canto XXXIX. Counsel To SM. 487 

He could not to the chief reply. 

By pangs of bitter grief assailed, 

The long-armed monarch wept and wailed, 

Half dead a while and sore distraught, 

While Rama filled his every thought. 

"This hand of mine in days ere now 

Has reft her young from many a cow, 

Or living things has idly slain: 

Hence comes, I ween, this hour of pain. 

Not till the hour is come to die 

Can from its shell the spirit fly. 

Death comes not, and Kaikeyi still 

Torments the wretch she cannot kill, 

Who sees his son before him quit 

The fine soft robes his rank that fit, 

And, glorious as the burning fire, 

In hermit garb his limbs attire. 

Now all the people grieve and groan 

Through Queen Kaikeyfs deed alone, 

Who, having dared this deed of sin, 

Strives for herself the gain to win." 

He spoke. With tears his eyes grew dim, 
His senses all deserted him. 
He cried, O Rama, once, then weak 
And fainting could no further speak. 
Unconscious there he lay: at length 
Regathering his sense and strength, 
While his full eyes their torrents shed, 
To wise Sumantra thus he said: 
"Yoke the light car, and hither lead 
Fleet coursers of the noblest breed, 
And drive this heir of lofty fate 
Beyond the limit of the state. 



488 The Ramayana 

This seems the fruit that virtues bear, 
The meed of worth which texts declare — 
The sending of the brave and good 
By sire and mother to the wood.'" 

He heard the monarch, and obeyed, 
With ready feet that ne'er delayed, 
And brought before the palace gate 
The horses and the car of state. 
Then to the monarch's son he sped, 
[141] And raising hands of reverence said 

That the light car which gold made fair, 

With best of steeds, was standing there. 

King Dasaratha called in haste 

The lord o'er all his treasures placed. 

And spoke, well skilled in place and time, 

His will to him devoid of crime: 

"Count all the years she has to live 

Afar in forest wilds, and give 

To Sita robes and gems of price 

As for the time may well suffice." 

Quick to the treasure-room he went, 

Charged by that king most excellent, 

Brought the rich stores, and gave them all 

To Sita in the monarch's hall. 

The Maithil dame of high descent 

Received each robe and ornament, 

And tricked those limbs, whose lines foretold 

High destiny, with gems and gold. 

So well adorned, so fair to view, 

A glory through the hall she threw: 

So, when the Lord of Light upsprings, 

His radiance o'er the sky he flings. 

Then Queen Kausalya spake at last, 



Canto XXXIX. Counsel To SM. 489 

With loving arms about her cast, 
Pressed lingering kisses on her head, 
And to the high-souled lady said: 
"Ah, in this faithless world below 
When dark misfortune comes and woe, 
Wives, loved and cherished every day, 
Neglect their lords and disobey. 
Yes, woman's nature still is this: — 
After long days of calm and bliss 
When some light grief her spirit tries, 
She changes all her love, or flies. 
Young wives are thankless, false in soul, 
With roving hearts that spurn control. 
Brooding on sin and quickly changed, 
In one short hour their love estranged. 
Not glorious deed or lineage fair, 
Not knowledge, gift, or tender care 
In chains of lasting love can bind 
A woman's light inconstant mind. 
But those good dames who still maintain 
What right, truth, Scripture, rule ordain — 
No holy thing in their pure eyes 
With one beloved husband vies. 
Nor let thy lord my son, condemned 
To exile, be by thee contemned, 
For be he poor or wealthy, he 
Is as a God, dear child, to thee." 

When Sita heard Kausalya's speech 
Her duty and her gain to teach, 
She joined her palms with reverent grace 
And gave her answer face to face: 
"All will I do, forgetting naught, 
Which thou, O honoured Queen, hast taught. 



490 The Ramayana 

I know, have heard, and deep have stored 

The rules of duty to my lord. 

Not me, good Queen, shouldst thou include 

Among the faithless multitude. 

Its own sweet light the moon shall leave 

Ere I to duty cease to cleave. 

The stringless lute gives forth no strain, 

The wheelless car is urged in vain; 

No joy a lordless dame, although 

Blest with a hundred sons, can know. 

From father, brother, and from son 

A measured share of joy is won: 

Who would not honour, love, and bless 

Her lord, whose gifts are measureless? 

Thus trained to think, I hold in awe 

Scripture's command and duty's law. 

Him can I hold in slight esteem? 

Her lord is woman's God, I deem." 

Kausalya heard the lady's speech, 

Nor failed those words her heart to reach. 

Then, pure in mind, she gave to flow 

The tear that sprang of joy and woe. 

Then duteous Rama forward came 

And stood before the honoured dame, 

And joining reverent hands addressed 

The queen in rank above the rest: 

"O mother, from these tears refrain; 

Look on my sire and still thy pain. 

To thee my days afar shall fly 

As if sweet slumber closed thine eye, 

And fourteen years of exile seem 

To thee, dear mother, like a dream. 

On me returning safe and well, 

Girt by my friends, thine eyes shall dwell." 



Canto XL. Rama's Departure. 491 

Thus for their deep affection's sake 
The hero to his mother spake, 
Then to the half seven hundred too, 
Wives of his sire, paid reverence due. 
Thus Dasaratha's son addressed 
That crowd of matrons sore distressed: 
"If from these lips, while here I dwelt, 
One heedless taunt you e'er have felt, 
Forgive me, pray. And now adieu, 
I bid good-bye to all of you." 
Then straight, like curlews' cries, upwent 
The voices of their wild lament, 
While, as he bade farewell, the crowd 
Of royal women wept aloud, 
And through the ample hall's extent. 
Where erst the sound of tabour, blent 
With drum and shrill-toned instrument, 

In joyous concert rose, 
Now rang the sound of wailing high, 
The lamentation and the cry, 
The shriek, the choking sob, the sigh 

That told the ladies' woes. 



Canto XL. Rama's Departure. 



Then Rama, Sita, Lakshman bent 

At the king's feet, and sadly went [142] 



492 The Ramayana 

Round him with slow steps reverent. 

When Rama of the duteous heart 

Had gained his sire's consent to part, 

With Sita by his side he paid 

Due reverence to the queen dismayed. 

And Lakshman, with affection meet, 

Bowed down and clasped his mother's feet. 

Sumitra viewed him as he pressed 

Her feet, and thus her son addressed: 

"Neglect not Rama wandering there, 

But tend him with thy faithful care. 

In hours of wealth, in time of woe, 

Him, sinless son, thy refuge know. 

From this good law the just ne'er swerve, 

That younger sons the eldest serve, 

And to this righteous rule incline 

All children of thine ancient line — 

Freely to give, reward each rite, 

Nor spare their bodies in the fight. 

Let Rama Dasaratha be, 

Look upon Sita as on me, 

And let the cot wherein you dwell 

Be thine Ayodhya. Fare thee well." 

Her blessing thus Sumitra gave 

To him whose soul to Rama clave, 

Exclaiming, when her speech was done, 

"Go forth, O Lakshman, go, my son. 

Go forth, my son to win success, 

High victory and happiness. 

Go forth thy foemen to destroy, 

And turn again at last with joy." 

As Matali his charioteer 
Speaks for the Lord of Gods to hear, 



Canto XL. Rama's Departure. 493 

Sumantra, palm to palm applied, 
In reverence trained, to Rama cried: 
"0 famous Prince, my car ascend, — 
May blessings on thy course attend, — 
And swiftly shall my horses flee 
And place thee where thou biddest me. 
The fourteen years thou hast to stay 
Far in the wilds, begin to-day; 
For Oueen Kaikeyi cries, Away." 

Then Sita, best of womankind, 
Ascended, with a tranquil mind, 
Soon as her toilet task was done, 
That chariot brilliant as the sun. 
Rama and Lakshman true and bold 
Sprang on the car adorned with gold. 
The king those years had counted o'er, 
And given Sita robes and store 
Of precious ornaments to wear 
When following her husband there. 
The brothers in the car found place 
For nets and weapons of the chase, 
There warlike arms and mail they laid, 
A leathern basket and a spade. 
Soon as Sumantra saw the three 
Were seated in the chariot, he 
Urged on each horse of noble breed, 
Who matched the rushing wind in speed. 
As thus the son of Raghu went 
Forth for his dreary banishment, 
Chill numbing grief the town assailed, 
All strength grew weak, all spirit failed, 
Ayodhya through her wide extent 
Was filled with tumult and lament: 



494 The Ramayana 

Steeds neighed and shook the bells they bore, 

Each elephant returned a roar. 

Then all the city, young and old, 

Wild with their sorrow uncontrolled, 

Rushed to the car, as, from the sun 

The panting herds to water run. 

Before the car, behind, they clung, 

And there as eagerly they hung, 

With torrents streaming from their eyes, 

Called loudly with repeated cries: 

"Listen, Sumantra: draw thy rein; 

Drive gently, and thy steeds restrain. 

Once more on Rama will we gaze, 

Now to be lost for many days. 

The queen his mother has, be sure, 

A heart of iron, to endure 

To see her godlike Rama go, 

Nor feel it shattered by the blow. 

Sita, well done! Videha's pride, 

Still like his shadow by his side; 

Rejoicing in thy duty still 

As sunlight cleaves to Meru's hill. 

Thou, Lakshman, too, hast well deserved, 

Who from thy duty hast not swerved, 

Tending the peer of Gods above, 

Whose lips speak naught but words of love. 

Thy firm resolve is nobly great, 

And high success on thee shall wait. 

Yea, thou shalt win a priceless meed — 

Thy path with him to heaven shall lead." 

As thus they spake, they could not hold 

The tears that down their faces rolled, 

While still they followed for a space 

Their darling of Ikshvaku's race. 



Canto XL. Rama's Departure. 495 

There stood surrounded by a ring 
Of mournful wives the mournful king; 
For, "I will see once more," he cried, 
"Mine own dear son," and forth he hied. 
As he came near, there rose the sound 
Of weeping, as the dames stood round. 
So the she-elephants complain 
When their great lord and guide is slain. 
Kakutstha's son, the king of men, 
The glorious sire, looked troubled then, 
As the full moon is when dismayed 
By dark eclipse's threatening shade. 
Then Dasaratha's son, designed 
For highest fate of lofty mind, 
Urged to more speed the charioteer, 
"Away, away! why linger here? 
Urge on thy horses," Rama cried, 
And "Stay, O stay," the people sighed. 
Sumantra, urged to speed away, 
The townsmen's call must disobey, 

Forth as the long-armed hero went, [143] 

The dust his chariot wheels up sent 
Was laid by streams that ever flowed 
From their sad eyes who filled the road. 
Then, sprung of woe, from eyes of all 
The women drops began to fall, 
As from each lotus on the lake 
The darting fish the water shake. 
When he, the king of high renown, 
Saw that one thought held all the town, 
Like some tall tree he fell and lay, 
Whose root the axe has hewn away. 
Then straight a mighty cry from those 
Who followed Rama's car arose, 



496 The Ramayana 

Who saw their monarch fainting there 

Beneath that grief too great to bear. 

Then "Rama, Rama!" with the cry 

Of "Ah, his mother!" sounded high, 

As all the people wept aloud 

Around the ladies' sorrowing crowd. 

When Rama backward turned his eye, 

And saw the king his father lie 

With troubled sense and failing limb, 

And the sad queen, who followed him, 

Like some young creature in the net, 

That will not, in its misery, let 

Its wild eyes on its mother rest, 

So, by the bonds of duty pressed, 

His mother's look he could not meet. 

He saw them with their weary feet, 

Who, used to bliss, in cars should ride, 

Who ne'er by sorrow should be tried, 

And, as one mournful look he cast, 

"Drive on," he cried, "Sumantra, fast." 

As when the driver's torturing hook 

Goads on an elephant, the look 

Of sire and mother in despair 

Was more than Rama's heart could bear. 

As mother kine to stalls return 

Which hold the calves for whom they yearn, 

So to the car she tried to run 

As a cow seeks her little one. 

Once and again the hero's eyes 

Looked on his mother, as with cries 

Of woe she called and gestures wild, 

"O SM, Lakshman, O my child!" 

"Stay," cried the king, "thy chariot stay:" 

"On, on," cried Rama, "speed away." 



Canto XLI. The Citizens' Lament. 497 

As one between two hosts, inclined 

To neither was Sumantra's mind. 

But Rama spake these words again: 

"A lengthened woe is bitterest pain. 

On, on; and if his wrath grow hot, 

Thine answer be, T heard thee not.' " 

Sumantra, at the chiefs behest, 

Dismissed the crowd that toward him pressed, 

And, as he bade, to swiftest speed 

Urged on his way each willing steed. 

The king's attendants parted thence, 

And paid him heart-felt reverence: 

In mind, and with the tears he wept, 

Each still his place near Rama kept. 

As swift away the horses sped, 

His lords to Dasaratha said: 

"To follow him whom thou again 

Wouldst see returning home is vain." 

With failing limb and drooping mien 
He heard their counsel wise: 

Still on their son the king and queen 
Kept fast their lingering eyes. 314 



Canto XLI. The Citizens' Lament. 



314 "Thirty centuries have passed since he began this memorable journey. Every 
step of it is known and is annually traversed by thousands: hero worship is not 
extinct. What can Faith do! How strong are the ties of religion when entwined 
with the legends of a country! How many a cart creeps creaking and weary 
along the road from Ayodhya to Chitrakiit. It is this that gives the Ramayan a 
strange interest, the story still lives." Calcutta Review: Vol. XXIII. 



498 The Ramayana 

The lion chief with hands upraised 
Was born from eyes that fondly gazed. 
But then the ladies' bower was rent 
With cries of weeping and lament: 
"Where goes he now, our lord, the sure 
Protector of the friendless poor, 
In whom the wretched and the weak 
Defence and aid were wont to seek? 
All words of wrath he turned aside, 
And ne'er, when cursed, in ire replied. 
He shared his people's woe, and stilled 
The troubled breast which rage had filled. 
Our chief, on lofty thoughts intent, 
In glorious fame preeminent: 
As on his own dear mother, thus 
He ever looked on each of us. 
Where goes he now? His sire's behest, 
By Queen Kaikeyfs guile distressed, 
Has banished to the forest hence 
Him who was all the world's defence. 
Ah, senseless King, to drive away 
The hope of men, their guard and stay, 
To banish to the distant wood 
Rama the duteous, true, and good!" 
The royal dames, like cows bereaved 
Of their young calves, thus sadly grieved. 
The monarch heard them as they wailed, 
And by the fire of grief assailed 
For his dear son, he bowed his head, 
And all his sense and memory fled. 

Then were no fires of worship fed, 
Thick darkness o'er the sun was spread. 
The cows their thirsty calves denied, 



Canto XLI. The Citizens' Lament. 499 

And elephants flung their food aside. [144] 

Trisanku, 315 Jupiter looked dread, 

And Mercury and Mars the red, 

In direful opposition met, 

The glory of the moon beset. 

The lunar stars withheld their light, 

The planets were no longer bright, 

But meteors with their horrid glare, 

And dire Visakhas 316 lit the air. 

As troubled Ocean heaves and raves 

When Doom's wild tempest sweeps the waves, 

Thus all Ayodhya reeled and bent 

When Rama to the forest went. 

And chilling grief and dark despair 

Fell suddenly on all men there. 

Their wonted pastime all forgot, 

Nor thought of food, or touched it not. 

Crowds in the royal street were seen 

With weeping eye and troubled mien: 

No more a people gay and glad, 

Each head and heart was sick and sad. 

No more the cool wind softly blew, 

The moon no more was fair to view, 

No more the sun with genial glow 

Cherished the world now plunged in woe. 

Sons, brothers, husbands, wedded wives 

Forgot the ties that joined their lives; 

No thought for kith and kin was spared, 

But all for only Rama cared. 

And Rama's friends who loved him best, 

Their minds disordered and distressed. 

By the great burthen of their woes 

315 See p. 72. 



500 The Ramayana 

Turned not to slumber or repose. 
Like Earth with all her hills bereft 
Of Indra's guiding care. 
Ayodhya in her sorrow left 

By him, the high souled heir, 
Was bowed by fear and sorrow's force, 

And shook with many a throe, 
While warrior, elephant, and horse 
Sent up the cry of woe. 



Canto XLII. Dasaratha's Lament. 



While yet the dust was seen afar 

That marked the course of Rama's car, 

The glory of Ikshvaku's race 

Turned not away his eager face. 

While yet his duteous son he saw 

He could not once his gaze withdraw, 

But rooted to the spot remained 

With eyes that after Rama strained. 

But when that dust no more he viewed, 

Fainting he fell by grief subdued. 

To his right hand Kausalya went, 

And ready aid the lady lent, 

While Bharat's loving mother tried 

To raise him on the other side. 

The king, within whose ordered soul 

Justice and virtue held control, 

To Queen Kaikeyi turned and said, 

With every sense disquieted: 

"Touch me not, thou whose soul can plot 



Canto XLII. Dasaratha's Lament. 501 

All sin. Kaikeyi, touch me not. 

No loving wife, no friend to me, 

I ne'er again would look on thee; 

Ne'er from this day have aught to do 

With thee and all thy retinue; 

Thee whom no virtuous thoughts restrain, 

Whose selfish heart seeks only gain. 

The hand I laid in mine, O dame, 

The steps we took around the flame, 317 

And all that links thy life to mine 

Here and hereafter I resign. 

If Bharat too, thy darling son, 

Joy in the rule thy art has won, 

Ne'er may the funeral offerings paid 

By his false hand approach my shade." 

Then while the dust upon him hung, 
The monarch to Kausalya clung, 
And she with mournful steps and slow 
Turned to the palace, worn with woe. 
As one whose hand has touched the fire, 
Or slain a Brahman in his ire, 
He felt his heart with sorrow torn 
Still thinking of his son forlorn. 
Each step was torture, as the road 
The traces of the chariot showed, 
And as the shadowed sun grows dim 
So care and anguish darkened him. 
He raised a cry, by woe distraught, 
As of his son again he thought. 
And judging that the car had sped 
Beyond the city, thus he said: 
"I still behold the foot-prints made 



317 In the marriage service. 



502 The Ramayana 

By the good horses that conveyed 
My son afar: these marks I see, 
But high-souled Rama, where is he? 
Ah me, my son! my first and best, 
On pleasant couches wont to rest, 
With limbs perfumed with sandal, fanned 
By many a beauty's tender hand: 
Where will he lie with log or stone 
Beneath him for a pillow thrown, 
To leave at morn his earthy bed, 
Neglected, and with dust o'erspread, 
As from the flood with sigh and pant 
Comes forth the husband elephant? 
The men who make the woods their home 
Shall see the long-armed hero roam 
Roused from his bed, though lord of all, 
In semblance of a friendless thrall. 
[145] Janak's dear child who ne'er has met 

With aught save joy and comfort yet, 
Will reach to-day the forest, worn 
And wearied with the brakes of thorn. 
Ah, gentle girl, of woods unskilled, 
How will her heart with dread be filled 
At the wild beasts' deep roaring there, 
Whose voices lift the shuddering hair! 
Kaikeyi, glory in thy gain, 
And, widow queen, begin to reign: 
No will, no power to live have I 
When my brave son no more is nigh." 

Thus pouring forth laments, the king 
Girt by the people's crowded ring, 
Entered the noble bower like one 
New-bathed when funeral rites are done. 



Canto XLII. Dasaratha's Lament. 503 

Where'er he looked naught met his gaze 
But empty houses, courts, and ways. 
Closed were the temples: countless feet 
No longer trod the royal street, 
And thinking of his son he viewed 
Men weak and worn and woe-subdued. 
As sinks the sun into a cloud, 
So passed he on, and wept aloud, 
Within that house no more to be 
The dwelling of the banished three, 
Brave Rama, his Vedehan bride, 
And Lakshman by his brother's side: 
Like broad still waters, when the king 
Of all the birds that ply the wing 
Has swooped from heaven and borne away 
The glittering snakes that made them gay. 
With choking sobs and voice half spent 
The king renewed his sad lament: 
With broken utterance faint and low 
Scarce could he speak these words of woe: 
"My steps to Rama's mother guide, 
And place me by Kausalya's side: 
There, only there my heart may know 
Some little respite from my woe." 

The warders of the palace led 
The monarch, when his words were said, 
To Queen Kausalya's bower, and there 
Laid him with reverential care. 
But while he rested on the bed 
Still was his soul disquieted. 
In grief he tossed his arms on high 
Lamenting with a piteous cry: 
"O Rama, Rama," thus said he, 



504 The Ramayana 

"My son, thou hast forsaken me. 

High bliss awaits those favoured men 

Left living in Ayodhya then, 

Whose eyes shall see my son once more 

Returning when the time is o'er." 

Then came the night, whose hated gloom 

Fell on him like the night of doom. 

At midnight Dasaratha cried 

To Queen Kausalya by his side: 

"I see thee not, Kausalya; lay 

Thy gentle hand in mine, I pray. 

When Rama left his home my sight 

Went with him, nor returns to-night." 



Canto XLIII. Kausalya's Lament. 

Kausalya saw the monarch lie 
With drooping frame and failing eye, 
And for her banished son distressed 
With these sad words her lord addressed: 
"Kaikeyi, cruel, false, and vile 
Has cast the venom of her guile 
On Rama lord of men, and she 
Will ravage like a snake set free; 
And more and more my soul alarm, 
Like a dire serpent bent on harm, 
For triumph crowns each dark intent, 
And Rama to the wild is sent. 
Ah, were he doomed but here to stray 
Begging his food from day to day, 
Or do, enslaved, Kaikeyfs will, 



Canto XLIII. Kausalya's Lament. 505 

This were a boon, a comfort still. 
But she, as chose her cruel hate, 
Has hurled him from his high estate, 
As Brahmans when the moon is new 
Cast to the ground the demons' due. 318 
The long-armed hero, like the lord 
Of Nagas, with his bow and sword 
Begins, I ween, his forest life 
With Lakshman and his faithful wife. 
Ah, how will fare the exiles now, 
Whom, moved by Queen Kaikeyi, thou 
Hast sent in forests to abide, 
Bred in delights, by woe untried? 
Far banished when their lives are young, 
With the fair fruit before them hung, 
Deprived of all their rank that suits, 
How will they live on grain and roots? 
O, that my years of woe were passed, 
And the glad hour were come at last 
When I shall see my children dear, 
Rama, his wife, and Lakshman here! 
When shall Ayodhya, wild with glee, 
Again those mighty heroes see, 
And decked with wreaths her banners wave 
To welcome home the true and brave? 
When will the beautiful city view 
With happy eyes the lordly two 
Returning, joyful as the main 
When the dear moon is full again? 
When, like some mighty bull who leads 
The cow exulting through the meads, 
Will Rama through the city ride, 



506 The Ramayana 

Strong-armed, with Sita at his side? 
When will ten thousand thousand meet 
And crowd Ayodhya's royal street, 
And grain in joyous welcome throw 
Upon my sons who tame the foe? 
When with delight shall youthful bands 
[146] Of Brahman maidens in their hands 

Bear fruit and flowers in goodly show, 
And circling round Ayodhya go? 
With ripened judgment of a sage, 
And godlike in his blooming age, 
When shall my virtuous son appear, 
Like kindly rain, our hearts to cheer? 
Ah, in a former life, I ween, 
This hand of mine, most base and mean, 
Has dried the udders of the kine 
And left the thirsty calves to pine. 
Hence, as the lion robs the cow, 
Kaikeyi makes me childless now, 
Exulting from her feebler foe 
To rend the son she cherished so. 
I had but him, in Scripture skilled, 
With every grace his soul was filled. 
Now not a joy has life to give, 
And robbed of him I would not live: 
Yea, all my days are dark and drear 
If he, my darling, be not near, 
And Lakshman brave, my heart to cheer. 
As for my son I mourn and yearn, 
The quenchless flames of anguish burn 

And kill me with the pain, 
As in the summer's noontide blaze 
The glorious Day-God with his rays 

Consumes the parching plain." 



Canto XLIV. Sumitra's Speech. 507 

Canto XLIV. Sumitra's Speech. 

Kausalya ceased her sad lament, 

Of beauteous dames most excellent. 

Sumitra who to duty clave, 

In righteous words this answer gave: 

"Dear Queen, all noble virtues grace 

Thy son, of men the first in place. 

Why dost thou shed these tears of woe 

With bitter grief lamenting so? 

If Rama, leaving royal sway 

Has hastened to the woods away, 

Tis for his high-souled father's sake 

That he his premise may not break. 

He to the path of duty clings 

Which lordly fruit hereafter brings — 

The path to which the righteous cleave — 

For him, dear Queen, thou shouldst not grieve. 

And Lakshman too, the blameless-souled, 

The same high course with him will hold, 

And mighty bliss on him shall wait, 

So tenderly compassionate. 

And Sita, bred with tender care, 

Well knows what toils await her there, 

But in her love she will not part 

From Rama of the virtuous heart. 

Now has thy son through all the world 

The banner of his fame unfurled; 

True, modest, careful of his vow, 

What has he left to aim at now? 

The sun will mark his mighty soul, 

His wisdom, sweetness, self-control, 

Will spare from pain his face and limb, 

And with soft radiance shine for him. 



508 The Ramayana 

For him through forest glades shall spring 
A soft auspicious breeze, and bring 
Its tempered heat and cold to play 
Around him ever night and day. 
The pure cold moonbeams shall delight 
The hero as he sleeps at night, 
And soothe him with the soft caress 
Of a fond parent's tenderness. 
To him, the bravest of the brave, 
His heavenly arms the Brahman gave, 
When fierce Suvahu dyed the plain 
With his life-blood by Rama slain. 
Still trusting to his own right arm 
Thy hero son will fear no harm: 
As in his father's palace, he 
In the wild woods will dauntless be. 
Whene'er he lets his arrows fly 
His stricken foemen fall and die: 
And is that prince of peerless worth 
Too weak to keep and sway the earth? 
His sweet pure soul, his beauty's charm, 
His hero heart, his warlike arm, 
Will soon redeem his rightful reign 
When from the woods he comes again. 
The Brahmans on the prince's head 
King-making drops shall quickly shed, 
And Sita, Earth, and Fortune share 
The glories which await the heir. 
For him, when forth his chariot swept, 
The crowd that thronged Ayodhya wept, 
With agonizing woe distressed. 
With him in hermit's mantle dressed 
In guise of Sita Lakshmi went, 
And none his glory may prevent. 



Canto XLIV. Sumitra's Speech. 509 

Yea, naught to him is high or hard, 

Before whose steps, to be his guard, 

Lakshman, the best who draws the bow, 

With spear, shaft, sword rejoiced to go. 

His wanderings in the forest o'er, 

Thine eyes shall see thy son once more, 

Quit thy faint heart, thy grief dispel, 

For this, O Queen, is truth I tell. 

Thy son returning, moonlike, thence, 

Shall at thy feet do reverence, 

And, blest and blameless lady, thou 

Shalt see his head to touch them bow, 

Yea, thou shalt see thy son made king 

When he returns with triumphing, 

And how thy happy eyes will brim 

With tears of joy to look on him! 

Thou, blameless lady, shouldst the whole 

Of the sad people here console: 

Why in thy tender heart allow 

This bitter grief to harbour now? 

As the long banks of cloud distil 

Their water when they see the hill, [147] 

So shall the drops of rapture run 

From thy glad eyes to see thy son 

Returning, as he lowly bends 

To greet thee, girt by all his friends." 

Thus soothing, kindly eloquent, 
With every hopeful argument 
Kausalya's heart by sorrow rent, 

Fair Queen Sumitra ceased. 
Kausalya heard each pleasant plea, 
And grief began to leave her free, 
As the light clouds of autumn flee, 



510 The Ramay ana 

Their watery stores decreased. 



Canto XLV. The Tamasa. 



Their tender love the people drew 

To follow Rama brave and true, 

The high-souled hero, as he went 

Forth from his home to banishment. 

The king himself his friends obeyed, 

And turned him homeward as they prayed. 

But yet the people turned not back, 

Still close on Rama's chariot track. 

For they who in Ayodhya dwelt 

For him such fond affection felt, 

Decked with all grace and glories high, 

The dear full moon of every eye. 

Though much his people prayed and wept, 

Kakutstha's son his purpose kept, 

And still his journey would pursue 

To keep the king his father true. 

Deep in the hero's bosom sank 

Their love, whose signs his glad eye drank. 

He spoke to cheer them, as his own 

Dear children, in a loving tone: 

"If ye would grant my fond desire, 

Give Bharat now that love entire 

And reverence shown to me by all 

Who dwell within Ayodhya's wall. 

For he, Kaikeyfs darling son, 

His virtuous career will run, 

And ever bound by duty's chain 



Canto XLV. The Tamasa. 511 

Consult your weal and bliss and gain. 
In judgment old, in years a child, 
With hero virtues meek and mild, 
A fitting lord is he to cheer 
His people and remove their fear. 
In him all kingly gifts abound, 
More noble than in me are found: 
Imperial prince, well proved and tried — 
Obey him as your lord and guide. 
And grant, I pray, the boon I ask: 
To please the king be still your task, 
That his fond heart, while I remain 
Far in the wood, may feel no pain." 

The more he showed his will to tread 
The path where filial duty led, 
The more the people, round him thronged, 
For their dear Rama's empire longed. 
Still more attached his followers grew, 
As Rama, with his brother, drew 
The people with his virtues' ties, 
Lamenting all with tear-dimmed eyes. 
The saintly twice-born, triply old 
In glory, knowledge, seasons told, 
With hoary heads that shook and bowed, 
Their voices raised and spake aloud: 
"O steeds, who best and noblest are, 
Who whirl so swiftly Rama's car, 
Go not, return: we call on you: 
Be to your master kind and true. 
For speechless things are swift to hear, 
And naught can match a horse's ear, 
O generous steeds, return, when thus 
You hear the cry of all of us. 



512 The Ramayana 

Each vow he keeps most firm and sure, 
And duty makes his spirit pure. 
Back with our chief! not wood-ward hence; 
Back to his royal residence!" 

Soon as he saw the aged band. 
Exclaiming in their misery, stand, 
And their sad cries around him rang, 
Swift from his chariot Rama sprang. 
Then, still upon his journey bent, 
With Sita and with Lakshman went 
The hero by the old men's side 
Suiting to theirs his shortened stride. 
He could not pass the twice-born throng 
As weariedly they walked along: 
With pitying heart, with tender eye, 
He could not in his chariot fly. 
When the steps of Rama viewed 
That still his onward course pursued, 
Woe shook the troubled heart of each, 
And burnt with grief they spoke this speech — 

"With thee, O Rama, to the wood 
All Brahmans go and Brahmanhood: 
Borne on our aged shoulders, see, 
Our fires of worship go with thee. 
Bright canopies that lend their shade 
In Vajapeya 319 rites displayed, 
In plenteous store are borne behind 
Like cloudlets in the autumn wind. 
No shelter from the sun hast thou, 
And, lest his fury burn thy brow, 
These sacrificial shades we bear 



319 An important sacrifice at which seventeen victims were immolated. 



Canto XLV. The Tamasa. 513 

Shall aid thee in the noontide glare. 

Our hearts, who ever loved to pore 

On sacred text and Vedic lore, 

Now all to thee, beloved, turn, 

And for a life in forests yearn. 

Deep in our aged bosoms lies 

The Vedas' lore, the wealth we prize, 

There still, like wives at home, shall dwell, 

Whose love and truth protect them well. [148] 

To follow thee our hearts are bent; 

We need not plan or argument. 

All else in duty's law we slight, 

For following thee is following right. 

O noble Prince, retrace thy way: 

O, hear us, Rama, as we lay, 

With many tears and many prayers, 

Our aged heads and swan-white hairs 

Low in the dust before thy feet; 

O, hear us, Rama, we entreat. 

Full many of these who with thee run, 

Their sacred rites had just begun. 

Unfinished yet those rites remain; 

But finished if thou turn again. 

All rooted life and things that move 

To thee their deep affection prove. 

To them, when warmed by love, they glow 

And sue to thee, some favour show, 

Each lowly bush, each towering tree 

Would follow too for love of thee. 

Bound by its root it must remain; 

But — all it can — its boughs complain, 

As when the wild wind rushes by 

It tells its woe in groan and sigh. 

No more through air the gay birds flit, 



514 The Ramayana 

But, foodless, melancholy sit 

Together on the branch and call 

To thee whose kind heart feels for all." 

As wailed the aged Brahmans, bent 
To turn him back, with wild lament, 
Seemed Tamasa herself to aid, 
Checking his progress, as they prayed. 
Sumantra from the chariot freed 
With ready hand each weary steed; 
He groomed them with the utmost heed, 

Their limbs he bathed and dried, 
Then led them forth to drink and feed 
At pleasure in the grassy mead 
That fringed the river side. 



Canto XLVI. The Halt. 



When Rama, chief of Raghu's race, 
Arrived at that delightful place, 
He looked on Sita first, and then 
To Lakshman spake the lord of men: 
"Now first the shades of night descend 
Since to the wilds our steps we bend. 
Joy to thee, brother! do not grieve 
For our dear home and all we leave. 
The woods unpeopled seem to weep 
Around us, as their tenants creep 
Or fly to lair and den and nest, 
Both bird and beast, to seek their rest. 



Canto XLVI. The Halt. 515 

Methinks Ayodhya's royal town 
Where dwells my sire of high renown, 
With all her men and dames to-night 
Will mourn us vanished from their sight. 
For, by his virtues won, they cling 
In fond affection to their king, 
And thee and me, O brave and true, 
And Bharat and Satrughna too. 
I for my sire and mother feel 
Deep sorrow o'er my bosom steal, 
Lest mourning us, oppressed with fears, 
They blind their eyes with endless tears. 
Yet Bharat's duteous love will show 
Sweet comfort in their hours of woe, 
And with kind words their hearts sustain, 
Suggesting duty, bliss, and gain. 
I mourn my parents now no more: 
I count dear Bharat's virtues o'er, 
And his kind love and care dispel 
The doubts I had, and all is well. 
And thou thy duty wouldst not shun, 
And, following me, hast nobly done; 
Else, bravest, I should need a band 
Around my wife as guard to stand. 
On this first night, my thirst to slake, 
Some water only will I take: 
Thus, brother, thus my will decides, 
Though varied store the wood provides." 

Thus having said to Lakshman, he 
Addressed in turn Sumantra: "Be 
Most diligent to-night, my friend, 
And with due care thy horses tend." 
The sun had set: Sumantra tied 



516 The Ramayana 

His noble horses side by side, 

Gave store of grass with liberal hand, 

And rested near them on the strand. 

Each paid the holy evening rite, 

And when around them fell the night, 

The charioteer, with Lakshman's aid, 

A lowly bed for Rama laid. 

To Lakshman Rama bade adieu, 

And then by Sita's side he threw 

His limbs upon the leafy bed 

Their care upon the bank had spread. 

When Lakshman saw the couple slept, 

Still on the strand his watch he kept, 

Still with Sumantra there conversed, 

And Rama's varied gifts rehearsed. 

All night he watched, nor sought repose, 

Till on the earth the sun arose: 

With him Sumantra stayed awake, 

And still of Rama's virtues spake. 

Thus, near the river's grassy shore 

Which herds unnumbered wandered o'er, 

Repose, untroubled, Rama found, 

And all the people lay around. 

The glorious hero left his bed, 

Looked on the sleeping crowd, and said 

To Lakshman, whom each lucky line 

Marked out for bliss with surest sign: 



"O brother Lakshman, look on these 
Reclining at the roots of trees; 
All care of house and home resigned, 
Caring for us with heart and mind, 
[149] These people of the city yearn 



Canto XLVI. The Halt. 517 

To see us to our home return: 

To quit their lives will they consent, 

But never leave their firm intent. 

Come, while they all unconscious sleep, 

Let us upon the chariot leap, 

And swiftly on our journey speed 

Where naught our progress may impede, 

That these fond citizens who roam 

Far from Ikshvaku's ancient home, 

No more may sleep 'neath bush and tree, 

Following still for love of me. 

A prince with tender care should heal 

The self-brought woes his people feel, 

And never let his subjects share 

The burthen he is forced to bear." 

Then Lakshman to the chief replied, 
Who stood like Justice by his side: 
"Thy rede, O sage, I well commend: 
Without delay the car ascend." 
Then Rama to Sumantra spoke: 
"Thy rapid steeds, I pray thee, yoke. 
Hence to the forest will I go: 
Away, my lord, and be not slow." 

Sumantra, urged to utmost speed, 
Yoked to the car each generous steed, 
And then, with hand to hand applied, 
He came before the chief and cried: 
"Hail, Prince, whom mighty arms adorn, 
Hail, bravest of the chariot-borne! 
With Sita and thy brother thou 
Mayst mount: the car is ready now." 



518 The Ramayana 

The hero clomb the car with haste: 
His bow and gear within were placed, 
And quick the eddying flood he passed 
Of Tamasa whose waves run fast. 
Soon as he touched the farther side, 
That strong-armed hero, glorified, 
He found a road both wide and clear, 
Where e'en the timid naught could fear. 
Then, that the crowd might be misled, 
Thus Rama to Sumantra said: 
"Speed north a while, then hasten back, 
Returning in thy former track, 
That so the people may not learn 
The course I follow: drive and turn." 



Sumantra, at the chief's behest, 
Quick to the task himself addressed; 
Then near to Rama came, and showed 
The chariot ready for the road. 
With Sita, then, the princely two, 
Who o'er the line of Raghu threw 
A glory ever bright and new, 

Upon the chariot stood. 
Sumantra fast and faster drove 
His horses, who in fleetness strove 
Still onward to the distant grove, 

The hermit-haunted wood. 



Canto XLVII. The Citizens' Return. 



Canto XLVII. The Citizens' Return. 519 

The people, when the morn shone fair, 

Arose to find no Rama there. 

Then fear and numbing grief subdued 

The senses of the multitude. 

The woe-born tears were running fast 

As all around their eyes they cast, 

And sadly looked, but found no trace 

Of Rama, searching every place. 

Bereft of Rama good and wise, 

With drooping cheer and weeping eyes, 

Each woe-distracted sage gave vent 

To sorrow in his wild lament: 

"Woe worth the sleep that stole our sense 

With its beguiling influence, 

That now we look in vain for him 

Of the broad chest and stalwart limb ! 

How could the strong-armed hero, thus 

Deceiving all, abandon us? 

His people so devoted see, 

Yet to the woods, a hermit, flee? 

How can he, wont our hearts to cheer, 

As a fond sire his children dear, — 

How can the pride of Raghu's race 

Fly from us to some desert place! 

Here let us all for death prepare, 

Or on the last great journey fare; 320 

Of Rama our dear lord bereft, 

What profit in our lives is left? 

Huge trunks of trees around us lie, 

With roots and branches sere and dry, 

Come let us set these logs on fire 

And throw our bodies on the pyre. 



320 The great pilgrimage to the Himalayas, in order to die there. 



520 The Ramayana 

What shall we speak? How can we say 
We followed Rama on his way, 
The mighty chief whose arm is strong, 
Who sweetly speaks, who thinks no wrong? 
Ayodhya's town with sorrow dumb, 
Without our lord will see us come, 
And hopeless misery will strike 
Elder, and child, and dame alike. 
Forth with that peerless chief we came, 
Whose mighty heart is aye the same: 
How, reft of him we love, shall we 
Returning dare that town to see?" 

Complaining thus with varied cry 
They tossed their aged arms on high, 
And their sad hearts with grief were wrung, 
Like cows who sorrow for their young. 
A while they followed on the road 
Which traces of his chariot showed, 
But when at length those traces failed, 
[150] A deep despair their hearts assailed. 

The chariot marks no more discerned, 
The hopeless sages backward turned: 
"Ah, what is this? What can we more? 
Fate stops the way, and all is o'er." 
With wearied hearts, in grief and shame 
They took the road by which they came, 
And reached Ayodhya's city, where 
From side to side was naught but care. 
With troubled spirits quite cast down 
They looked upon the royal town, 
And from their eyes, oppressed with woe, 
Their tears again began to flow. 
Of Rama reft, the city wore 



Canto XLVIII. The Women's Lament. 521 

No look of beauty as before, 

Like a dull river or a lake 

By Garud robbed of every snake. 

Dark, dismal as the moonless sky, 

Or as a sea whose bed is dry, 

So sad, to every pleasure dead, 

They saw the town, disquieted. 

On to their houses, high and vast, 

Where stores of precious wealth were massed, 

The melancholy Brahmans passed, 

Their hearts with anguish cleft: 
Aloof from all, they came not near 
To stranger or to kinsman dear, 
Showing in faces blank and drear 

That not one joy was left. 



Canto XLVIII. The Women's Lament. 



When those who forth with Rama went 
Back to the town their steps had bent, 
It seemed that death had touched and chilled 
Those hearts which piercing sorrow filled. 
Each to his several mansion came, 
And girt by children and his dame, 
From his sad eyes the water shed 
That o'er his cheek in torrents spread. 
All joy was fled: oppressed with cares 
No bustling trader showed his wares. 
Each shop had lost its brilliant look, 
Each householder forbore to cook. 
No hand with joy its earnings told, 



522 The Ramayana 

None cared to win a wealth of gold, 
And scarce the youthful mother smiled 
To see her first, her new-born child. 
In every house a woman wailed, 
And her returning lord assailed 
With keen taunt piercing like the steel 
That bids the tusked monster kneel: 
"What now to them is wedded dame, 
What house and home and dearest aim, 
Or son, or bliss, or gathered store, 
Whose eyes on Rama look no more ! 
There is but one in all the earth, 
One man alone of real worth, 
Lakshman, who follows, true and good, 
Rama, with Sita, through the wood. 
Made holy for all time we deem 
Each pool and fountain, lake and stream, 
If great Kakutstha's son shall choose 
Their water for his bath to use. 
Each forest, dark with lovely trees, 
Shall yearn Kakutstha's son to please; 
Each mountain peak and woody hill, 
Each mighty flood and mazy rill, 
Each rocky height, each shady grove 
Where the blest feet of Rama rove, 
Shall gladly welcome with the best 
Of all they have their honoured guest. 
The trees that clustering blossoms bear, 
And bright-hued buds to gem their hair, 
The heart of Rama shall delight, 
And cheer him on the breezy height. 
For him the upland slopes will show 
The fairest roots and fruit that grow, 
And all their wealth before him fling 



Canto XLVIII. The Women's Lament. 523 

Ere the due hour of ripening. 

For him each earth-upholding hill 

Its crystal water shall distil, 

And all its floods shall be displayed 

In many a thousand-hued cascade. 

Where Rama stands is naught to fear, 

No danger comes if he be near; 

For all who live on him depend, 

The world's support, and lord, and friend. 

Ere in too distant wilds he stray, 

Let us to Rama speed away, 

For rich reward on those will wait 

Who serve a prince of soul so great. 

We will attend on Sita there; 

Be Raghu's son your special care." 

The city dames, with grief distressed, 

Thus once again their lords addressed: 

"Rama shall be your guard and guide, 

And Sita will for us provide. 

For who would care to linger here, 

Where all is sad and dark and drear? 

Who, mid the mourners, hope for bliss 

In a poor soulless town like this? 

If Queen Kaikeyi's treacherous sin, 

Our lord expelled, the kingdom win, 

We heed not sons or golden store, 

Our life itself we prize no more. 

If she, seduced by lust of sway, 

Her lord and son could cast away, 

Whom would she leave unharmed, the base 

Defiler of her royal race? 

We swear it by our children dear, 

We will not dwell as servants here; 



524 The Ramayana 

If Queen Kaikeyi live to reign, 
We will not in her realm remain. 
Bowed down by her oppressive hand, 
The helpless, lordless, godless land, 
Cursed for Kaikeyi's guilt will fall, 
[151] And swift destruction seize it all. 

For, Rama forced from home to fly, 
The king his sire will surely die, 
And when the king has breathed his last 
Ruin will doubtless follow fast. 
Sad, robbed of merits, drug the cup 
And drink the poisoned mixture up, 
Or share the exiled Rama's lot, 
Or seek some land that knows her not. 
No reason, but a false pretence 
Drove Rama, Sita, Lakshman hence, 
And we to Bharat have been given 
Like cattle to the shambles driven." 

While in each house the women, pained 
At loss of Rama, still complained, 
Sank to his rest the Lord of Day, 
And night through all the sky held sway. 
The fires of worship all were cold, 
No text was hummed, no tale was told, 
And shades of midnight gloom came down 
Enveloping the mournful town. 
Still, sick at heart, the women shed, 
As for a son or husband fled, 
For Rama tears, disquieted: 

No child was loved as he. 
And all Ayodhya, where the feast, 
Music, and song, and dance had ceased, 

And merriment and glee, 



Canto XLIX. The Crossing Of The Rivers. 525 

Where every merchant's store was closed 
That erst its glittering wares exposed, 
Was like a dried up sea. 



Canto XLIX. The Crossing Of The Rivers. 

Now Rama, ere the night was fled, 
O'er many a league of road had sped, 
Till, as his course he onward held, 
The morn the shades of night dispelled. 
The rites of holy dawn he paid, 
And all the country round surveyed. 
He saw, as still he hurried through 
With steeds which swift as arrows flew, 
Hamlets and groves with blossoms fair, 
And fields which showed the tillers' care, 
While from the clustered dwellings near 
The words of peasants reached his ear: 
"Fie on our lord the king, whose soul 
Is yielded up to love's control ! 
Fie on the vile Kaikeyi! Shame 
On that malicious sinful dame, 
Who, keenly bent on cruel deeds, 
No bounds of right and virtue heeds, 
But with her wicked art has sent 
So good a prince to banishment, 
Wise, tender-hearted, ruling well 
His senses, in the woods to dwell. 
Ah cruel king! his heart of steel 
For his own son no love could feel, 
Who with the sinless Rama parts, 



526 The Ramayana 

The darling of the people's hearts." 

These words he heard the peasants say, 
Who dwelt in hamlets by the way, 
And, lord of all the realm by right, 
Through Kosala pursued his flight. 
Through the auspicious flood, at last, 
Of Vedasruti's stream he passed, 
And onward to the place he sped 
By Saint Agastya tenanted. 
Still on for many an hour he hied, 
And crossed the stream whose cooling tide 
Rolls onward till she meets the sea, 
The herd-frequented Gomati. 321 
Borne by his rapid horses o'er, 
He reached that river's further shore. 
And Syandika's, whose swan-loved stream 
Resounded with the peacock's scream. 
Then as he journeyed on his road 
To his Videhan bride he showed 
The populous land which Manu old 
To King Ikshvaku gave to hold. 
The glorious prince, the lord of men 
Looked on the charioteer, and then 
Voiced like a wild swan, loud and clear, 
He spake these words and bade him hear: 
"When shall I, with returning feet 
My father and my mother meet? 
When shall I lead the hunt once more 
In bloomy woods on Sarju's shore? 
Most eagerly I long to ride 
Urging the chase on Sarju's side. 
For royal saints have seen no blame 



321 Known to Europeans as the Goomtee. 



Canto L. The Halt Under The Ingudi. 527 

In this, the monarch's matchless game." 

Thus speeding on, — no rest or stay, — 
Ikshvaku's son pursued his way. 
Oft his sweet voice the silence broke, 
And thus on varied themes he spoke. 



Canto L. The Halt Under The Ingudi. 

So through the wide and fair extent 

Of Kosala the hero went. 

Then toward Ayodhya back he gazed, 

And cried, with suppliant hands upraised: 

"Farewell, dear city, first in place, 

Protected by Kakutstha's race! 

And Gods, who in thy temples dwell, 

And keep thine ancient citadel! 

I from his debt my sire will free, 

Thy well-loved towers again will see, 

And, coming from my wild retreat, 

My mother and my father meet." 

Then burning grief inflamed his eye, 
As his right arm he raised on high, 
And, while hot tears his cheek bedewed, 
Addressed the mournful multitude: 
"By love and tender pity moved, 
Your love for me you well have proved; 
Now turn again with joy, and win 
Success in all your hands begin." 



322 



[152] 



322 A tree, commonly called Ingua. 



528 The Ramayana 

Before the high souled chief they bent, 
With circling steps around him went, 
And then with bitter wailing, they 
Departed each his several way. 
Like the great sun engulfed by night, 
The hero sped beyond their sight, 
While still the people mourned his fate 
And wept aloud disconsolate. 
The car-borne chieftain passed the bound 
Of Kosala's delightful ground, 
Where grain and riches bless the land, 
And people give with liberal hand: 
A lovely realm unvexed by fear, 
Where countless shrines and stakes 323 appear: 
Where mango-groves and gardens grow, 
And streams of pleasant water flow: 
Where dwells content a well-fed race, 
And countless kine the meadows grace: 
Filled with the voice of praise and prayer: 
Each hamlet worth a monarch's care. 
Before him three-pathed Ganga rolled 
Her heavenly waters bright and cold; 
O'er her pure breast no weeds were spread, 
Her banks were hermit-visited. 
The car-borne hero saw the tide 
That ran with eddies multiplied, 
And thus the charioteer addressed: 
"Here on the bank to-day we rest. 
Not distant from the river, see ! 
There grows a lofty Ingudi 
With blossoms thick on every spray: 
There rest we, charioteer, to-day. 



323 Sacrificial posts to which the victims were tied. 



Canto L. The Halt Under The Ingudi. 529 

I on the queen of floods will gaze, 
Whose holy stream has highest praise, 
Where deer, and bird, and glittering snake, 
God, Daitya, bard their pastime take." 



Sumantra, Lakshman gave assent, 
And with the steeds they thither went. 
When Rama reached the lovely tree, 
With Sita and with Lakshman, he 
Alighted from the car: with speed 
Sumantra loosed each weary steed. 
And, hand to hand in reverence laid, 
Stood near to Rama in the shade. 
Rama's dear friend, renowned by fame, 
Who of Nishada lineage came, 
Guha, the mighty chief, adored 
Through all the land as sovereign lord, 
Soon as he heard that prince renowned 
Was resting on Nishada ground, 
Begirt by counsellor and peer 
And many an honoured friend drew near. 
Soon as the monarch came in view, 
Rama and Lakshman toward him flew. 
Then Guha, at the sight distressed, 
His arms around the hero pressed, 
Laid both his hands upon his head 
Bowed to those lotus feet, and said: 
"O Rama, make thy wishes known, 
And be this kingdom as thine own. 
Who, mighty-armed, will ever see 
A guest so dear as thou to me?" 



530 The Ramayana 

He placed before him dainty fare 
Of every flavour, rich and rare, 
Brought forth the gift for honoured guest, 
And thus again the chief addressed: 
"Welcome, dear Prince, whose arms are strong; 
These lands and all to thee belong. 
Thy servants we, our lord art thou; 
Begin, good king, thine empire now. 
See, various food before thee placed, 
And cups to drink and sweets to taste 
For thee soft beds are hither borne, 
And for thy horses grass and corn." 

To Guha as he pressed and prayed, 
Thus Raghu's son his answer made: 
"Twas aye thy care my heart to please 
With honour, love, and courtesies, 
And friendship brings thee now to greet 
Thy guest thus humbly on thy feet." 

Again the hero spake, as round 
The king his shapely arms he wound: 
"Guha, I see that all is well 
With thee and those who with thee dwell; 
That health and bliss and wealth attend 
Thy realm, thyself, and every friend. 
But all these friendly gifts of thine, 
Bound to refuse, I must decline. 
Grass, bark, and hide my only wear, 
And woodland roots and fruit my fare, 
On duty all my heart is set; 
I seek the woods, an anchoret. 
A little grass and corn to feed 
The horses — this is all I need. 



Canto L. The Halt Under The Ingudi. 53 1 

So by this favour, King, alone 

Shall honour due to me be shown. 

For these good steeds who brought me here 

Are to my sire supremely dear; 

And kind attention paid to these 

Will honour me and highly please." 



Then Guha quickly bade his train 
Give water to the steeds, and grain. 
And Rama, ere the night grew dark, 
Paid evening rites in dress of bark, 
And tasted water, on the strand, 
Drawn from the stream by Lakshman's hand. 
And Lakshman with observance meet 

Bathed his beloved brother's feet, [153] 

Who rested with his Maithil spouse: 
Then sat him down 'neath distant boughs. 
And Guha with his bow sat near 
To Lakshman and the charioteer, 
And with the prince conversing kept 
His faithful watch while Rama slept. 
As Dasaratha's glorious heir, 
Of lofty soul and wisdom rare, 
Reclining with his Sita there 

Beside the river lay — 
He who no troubles e'er had seen, 
Whose life a life of bliss had been — 
That night beneath the branches green 

Passed pleasantly away. 



532 The Ramayana 

Canto LI. Lakshman's Lament. 



As Lakshman still his vigil held 
By unaffected love impelled, 
Guha, whose heart the sight distressed, 
With words like these the prince addressed: 
"Beloved youth, this pleasant bed 
Was brought for thee, for thee is spread; 
On this, my Prince, thine eyelids close, 
And heal fatigue with sweet repose. 
My men are all to labour trained, 
But hardship thou hast ne'er sustained. 
All we this night our watch will keep 
And guard Kakutstha's son asleep. 
In all the world there breathes not one 
More dear to me than Raghu's son. 
The words I speak, heroic youth, 
Are true: I swear it by my truth. 
Through his dear grace supreme renown 
Will, so I trust, my wishes crown. 
So shall my life rich store obtain 
Of merit, blest with joy and gain. 
While Raghu's son and Sita lie 
Entranced in happy slumber, I 
Will, with my trusty bow in hand, 
Guard my dear friend with all my band. 
To me, who oft these forests range, 
Is naught therein or new or strange. 
We could with equal might oppose 
A four-fold army led by foes." 



Canto LI. Lakshman's Lament. 533 

Then royal Lakshman made reply: 
"With thee to stand as guardian nigh, 
Whose faithful soul regards the right, 
Fearless we well might rest to-night. 
But how, when Rama lays his head 
With SM on his lowly bed, — 
How can I sleep? how can I care 
For life, or aught that's bright and fair? 
Behold the conquering chief, whose might 
Is match for Gods and fiends in fight; 
With Sita now he rests his head 
Asleep on grass beneath him spread. 
Won by devotion, text, and prayer, 
And many a rite performed with care, 
Chief of our father's sons he shines 
Well marked, like him, with favouring signs. 
Brief, brief the monarch's life will be 
Now his dear son is forced to flee; 
And quickly will the widowed state 
Mourn for her lord disconsolate. 
Each mourner there has wept her fill; 
The cries of anguish now are still: 
In the king's hall each dame, o'ercome 
With weariness of woe is dumb. 
This first sad night of grief, I ween, 
Will do to death each sorrowing queen: 
Scarce is Kausalya left alive; 
My mother, too, can scarce survive. 
If when her heart is fain to break, 
She lingers for Satrughna's sake, 
Kausalya, mother of the chief, 
Must sink beneath the chilling grief. 
That town which countless thousands fill, 
Whose hearts with love of Rama thrill, — 



534 The Ramayana 

The world's delight, so rich and fair, — 
Grieved for the king, his death will share. 
The hopes he fondly cherished, crossed 
Ayodhya's throne to Rama lost, — 
With mournful cries, Too late, too late! 
The king my sire will meet his fate. 
And when my sire has passed away, 
Most happy in their lot are they, 
Allowed, with every pious care, 
Part in his funeral rites to bear. 
And O, may we with joy at last, — 
These years of forest exile past, — 
Turn to Ayodhya's town to dwell 
With him who keeps his promise well!" 



While thus the hero mighty-souled, 
In wild lament his sorrow told, 
Faint with the load that on him lay, 
The hours of darkness passed away. 
As thus the prince, impelled by zeal 
For his loved brother, prompt to feel 
Strong yearnings for the people's weal, 

His words of truth outspake, 
King Guha grieved to see his woe, 
Heart-stricken, gave his tears to flow, 
Tormented by the common blow, 

Sad, as a wounded snake. 



Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga. 



Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga. 535 

Soon as the shades of night had fled, 

Uprising from his lowly bed, 

Rama the famous, broad of chest, 

His brother Lakshman thus addressed: 

"Now swift upsprings the Lord of Light, 

And fled is venerable night. [154] 

That dark-winged bird the Koil now 

Is calling from the topmost bough, 

And sounding from the thicket nigh 

Is heard the peacock's early cry. 

Come, cross the flood that seeks the sea, 

The swiftly flowing Jahnavi." 324 



King Guha heard his speech, agreed, 
And called his minister with speed: 
"A boat," he cried, "swift, strong, and fair, 
With rudder, oars, and men, prepare, 
And place it ready by the shore 
To bear the pilgrims quickly o'er." 
Thus Guha spake: his followers all 
Bestirred them at their master's call; 
Then told the king that ready manned 
A gay boat waited near the strand. 
Then Guha, hand to hand applied, 
With reverence thus to Rama cried: 
"The boat is ready by the shore: 
How, tell me, can I aid thee more? 
O lord of men, it waits for thee 
To cross the flood that seeks the sea. 
O godlike keeper of thy vow, 
Embark: the boat is ready now." 



324 Daughter of Jahnu, a name of the Ganges. See p. 55. 



536 The Ramayana 

Then Rama, lord of glory high, 
Thus to King Guha made reply: 
"Thanks for thy gracious care, my lord: 
Now let the gear be placed on board." 
Each bow-armed chief, in mail encased, 
Bound sword and quiver to his waist, 
And then with Sita near them hied 
Down the broad river's shelving side. 
Then with raised palms the charioteer, 
In lowly reverence drawing near, 
Cried thus to Rama good and true: 
"Now what remains for me to do?" 

With his right hand, while answering 
The hero touched his friend: 

"Go back," he said, "and on the king 
With watchful care attend. 
Thus far, Sumantra, thou wast guide; 
Now to Ayodhya turn," he cried: 
"Hence seek we leaving steeds and car, 
On foot the wood that stretches far." 

Sumantra, when, with grieving heart, 
He heard the hero bid him part, 
Thus to the bravest of the brave, 
Ikshvaku's son, his answer gave: 
"In all the world men tell of naught, 
To match thy deed, by heroes wrought — 
Thus with thy brother and thy wife 
Thrall-like to lead a forest life. 
No meet reward of fruit repays 
Thy holy lore, thy saintlike days, 
Thy tender soul, thy love of truth, 
If woe like this afflicts thy youth. 
Thou, roaming under forest boughs 



Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga. 537 

With thy dear brother and thy spouse 
Shalt richer meed of glory gain 
Than if three worlds confessed thy reign. 
Sad is our fate, O Rama: we, 
Abandoned and repelled by thee, 
Must serve as thralls Kaikeyi's will, 
Imperious, wicked, born to ill." 

Thus cried the faithful charioteer, 
As Raghu's son, in rede his peer, 
Was fast departing on his road, — 
And long his tears of anguish flowed. 
But Rama, when those tears were dried 
His lips with water purified, 
And in soft accents, sweet and clear, 
Again addressed the charioteer: 
"I find no heart, my friend, like thine, 
So faithful to Ikshvaku's line. 
Still first in view this object keep, 
That ne'er for me my sire may weep. 
For he, the world's far-ruling king, 
Is old, and wild with sorrow's sting; 
With love's great burthen worn and weak: 
Deem this the cause that thus I speak 
Whate'er the high-souled king decrees 
His loved Kaikeyi's heart to please, 
Yea, be his order what it may, 
Without demur thou must obey, 
For this alone great monarchs reign, 
That ne'er a wish be formed in vain. 
Then, O Sumantra, well provide 
That by no check the king be tried: 
Nor let his heart in sorrow pine: 
This care, my faithful friend, be thine. 



538 The Ramayana 

The honoured king my father greet, 
And thus for me my words repeat 
To him whose senses are controlled, 
Untired till now by grief, and old; 
"I, Sita, Lakshman sorrow not, 
O Monarch, for our altered lot: 
The same to us, if here we roam, 
Or if Ayodhya be our home, 
The fourteen years will quickly fly, 
The happy hour will soon be nigh 
When thou, my lord, again shalt see 
Lakshman, the Maithil dame, and me." 
Thus having soothed, O charioteer, 
My father and my mother dear, 
Let all the queens my message learn, 
But to Kaikeyi chiefly turn. 
With loving blessings from the three, 
From Lakshman, Sita, and from me, 
My mother, Queen Kausalya, greet 
With reverence to her sacred feet. 
And add this prayer of mine: "O King; 
Send quickly forth and Bharat bring, 
And set him on the royal throne 
Which thy decree has made his own. 
When he upon the throne is placed, 
When thy fond arms are round him laced, 
Thine aged heart will cease to ache 
[155] With bitter pangs for Rama's sake." 

And say to Bharat: "See thou treat 
The queens with all observance meet: 
What care the king receives, the same 
Show thou alike to every dame. 
Obedience to thy father's will 
Who chooses thee the throne to fill, 



Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga. 539 

Will earn for thee a store of bliss 
Both in the world to come and this.' " 

Thus Rama bade Sumantra go 
With thoughtful care instructed so. 
Sumantra all his message heard, 
And spake again, by passion stirred: 
"O, should deep feeling mar in aught 
The speech by fond devotion taught, 
Forgive whate'er I wildly speak: 
My love is strong, my tongue is weak. 
How shall I, if deprived of thee, 
Return that mournful town to see: 
Where sick at heart the people are 
Because their Rama roams afar. 
Woe will be theirs too deep to brook 
When on the empty car they look, 
As when from hosts, whose chiefs are slain, 
One charioteer comes home again. 
This very day, I ween, is food 
Forsworn by all the multitude, 
Thinking that thou, with hosts to aid, 
Art dwelling in the wild wood's shade. 
The great despair, the shriek of woe 
They uttered when they saw thee go, 
Will, when I come with none beside, 
A hundred-fold be multiplied. 
How to Kausalya can I say: 
"O Queen, I took thy son away, 
And with thy brother left him well: 
Weep not for him; thy woe dispel?" 
So false a tale I cannot frame, 
Yet how speak truth and grieve the dame? 
How shall these horses, fleet and bold, 



540 The Ramayana 

Whom not a hand but mine can hold, 
Bear others, wont to whirl the car 
Wherein Ikshvaku's children are! 
Without thee, Prince, I cannot, no, 
I cannot to Ayodhya go. 
Then deign, O Rama, to relent, 
And let me share thy banishment. 
But if no prayers can move thy heart, 
If thou wilt quit me and depart, 
The flames shall end my car and me, 
Deserted thus and reft of thee. 
In the wild wood when foes are near, 
When dangers check thy vows austere, 
Borne in my car will I attend, 
All danger and all care to end. 
For thy dear sake I love the skill 
That guides the steed and curbs his will: 
And soon a forest life will be 
As pleasant, for my love of thee. 
And if these horses near thee dwell, 
And serve thee in the forest well, 
They, for their service, will not miss 
The due reward of highest bliss. 
Thine orders, as with thee I stray, 
Will I with heart and head obey, 
Prepared, for thee, without a sigh, 
To lose Ayodhya or the sky. 
As one defiled with hideous sin, 
I never more can pass within 
Ayodhya, city of our king, 
Unless beside me thee I bring. 
One wish is mine, I ask no more, 
That, when thy banishment is o'er 
I in my car may bear my lord, 



Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga. 541 

Triumphant, to his home restored. 
The fourteen years, if spent with thee, 
Will swift as light-winged moments flee; 
But the same years, without thee told, 
Were magnified a hundred-fold. 
Do not, kind lord, thy servant leave, 
Who to his master's son would cleave, 
And the same path with him pursue, 
Devoted, tender, just and true." 

Again, again Sumantra made 
His varied plaint, and wept and prayed. 
Him Raghu's son, whose tender breast 
Felt for his servants, thus addressed: 
"O faithful servant, well my heart 
Knows how attached and true thou art. 
Hear thou the words I speak, and know 
Why to the town I bid thee go. 
Soon as Kaikeyi, youngest queen, 
Thy coming to the town has seen, 
No doubt will then her mind oppress 
That Rama roams the wilderness. 
And so the dame, her heart content 
With proof of Rama's banishment, 
Will doubt the virtuous king no more 
As faithless to the oath he swore. 
Chief of my cares is this, that she, 
Youngest amid the queens, may see 
Bharat her son securely reign 
O'er rich Ayodhya's wide domain. 
For mine and for the monarch's sake 
Do thou thy journey homeward take, 
And, as I bade, repeat each word 
That from my lips thou here hast heard." 



542 The Ramayana 

Thus spake the prince, and strove to cheer 
The sad heart of the charioteer, 
And then to royal Guha said 
These words most wise and spirited: 
"Guha, dear friend, it is not meet 
That people throng my calm retreat: 
For I must live a strict recluse, 
And mould my life by hermits' use. 
I now the ancient rule accept 
By good ascetics gladly kept. 
I go: bring fig-tree juice that I 
In matted coils my hair may tie." 



Quick Guha hastened to produce, 
For the king's son, that sacred juice. 
Then Rama of his long locks made, 
[156] And Lakshman's too, the hermit braid. 

And the two royal brothers there 
With coats of bark and matted hair, 
Transformed in lovely likeness stood 
To hermit saints who love the wood. 
So Rama, with his brother bold, 
A pious anchorite enrolled, 
Obeyed the vow which hermits take, 
And to his friend, King Guha, spake: 
"May people, treasure, army share, 
And fenced forts, thy constant care: 
Attend to all: supremely hard 
The sovereign's task, to watch and guard." 



Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga. 543 

Ikshvaku's son, the good and brave, 
This last farewell to Guha gave, 
And then, with Lakshman and his bride, 
Determined, on his way he hied. 
Soon as he viewed, upon the shore, 
The bark prepared to waft them o'er 
Impetuous Ganga's rolling tide, 
To Lakshman thus the chieftain cried: 
"Brother, embark; thy hand extend, 
Thy gentle aid to Sita lend: 
With care her trembling footsteps guide, 
And place the lady by thy side." 
When Lakshman heard, prepared to aid, 
His brother's words he swift obeyed. 
Within the bark he placed the dame, 
Then to her side the hero came. 
Next Lakshman's elder brother, lord 
Of brightest glory, when on board, 
Breathing a prayer for blessings, meet 
For priest or warrior to repeat, 
Then he and car-borne Lakshman bent, 
Well-pleased, their heads, most reverent, 
Their hands, with Sita, having dipped, 
As Scripture bids, and water sipped, 
Farewell to wise Sumantra said, 
And Guha, with the train he led. 
So Rama took, on board, his stand, 
And urged the vessel from the land. 
Then swift by vigorous arms impelled 
Her onward course the vessel held, 
And guided by the helmsman through 
The dashing waves of Ganga flew. 
Half way across the flood they came, 
When Sita, free from spot and blame, 



544 The Ramayana 

Her reverent hands together pressed, 

The Goddess of the stream addressed: 

"May the great chieftain here who springs 

From Dasaratha, best of kings, 

Protected by thy care, fulfil 

His prudent father's royal will. 

When in the forest he has spent 

His fourteen years of banishment, 

With his dear brother and with me 

His home again my lord shall see. 

Returning on that blissful day, 

I will to thee mine offerings pay, 

Dear Queen, whose waters gently flow, 

Who canst all blessed gifts bestow. 

For, three-pathed Queen, though wandering here, 

Thy waves descend from Brahma's sphere, 

Spouse of the God o'er floods supreme, 

Though rolling here thy glorious stream. 

To thee, fair Queen, my head shall bend, 

To thee shall hymns of praise ascend, 

When my brave lord shall turn again, 

And, joyful, o'er his kingdom reign. 

To win thy grace, O Queen divine, 

A hundred thousand fairest kine, 

And precious robes and finest meal 

Among the Brahmans will I deal. 

A hundred jars of wine shall flow, 

When to my home, O Queen, I go; 

With these, and flesh, and corn, and rice, 

Will I, delighted, sacrifice. 

Each hallowed spot, each holy shrine 

That stands on these fair shores of thine, 

Each fane and altar on thy banks 

Shall share my offerings and thanks. 



Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga. 545 

With me and Lakshman, free from harm, 
May he the blameless, strong of arm, 
Reseek Ayodhya from the wild, 
O blameless Lady undefiled!" 



As, praying for her husband's sake, 
The faultless dame to Ganga spake, 
To the right bank the vessel flew 
With her whose heart was right and true. 
Soon as the bark had crossed the wave, 
The lion leader of the brave, 
Leaving the vessel on the strand, 
With wife and brother leapt to land. 
Then Rama thus the prince addressed 
Who filled with joy Sumitra's breast: 
"Be thine alike to guard and aid 
In peopled spot, in lonely shade. 
Do thou, Sumitra's son, precede: 
Let Sita walk where thou shalt lead. 
Behind you both my place shall be, 
To guard the Maithil dame and thee. 
For she, to woe a stranger yet, 
No toil or grief till now has met; 
The fair Videhan will assay 
The pains of forest life to-day. 
To-day her tender feet must tread 
Rough rocky wilds around her spread: 
No tilth is there, no gardens grow, 
No crowding people come and go." 



546 The Ramayana 

The hero ceased: and Lakshman led 
Obedient to the words he said: 
And Sita followed him, and then 
Came Raghu's pride, the lord of men. 
With Sita walking o'er the sand 
They sought the forest, bow in hand, 
But still their lingering glances threw 
Where yet Sumantra stood in view. 
Sumantra, when his watchful eye 
The royal youths no more could spy, 
Turned from the spot whereon he stood 
[157] Homeward with Guha from the wood. 

Still on the brothers forced their way 
Where sweet birds sang on every spray, 
Though scarce the eye a path could find 
Mid flowering trees where creepers twined. 
Far on the princely brothers pressed, 
And stayed their feet at length to rest 
Beneath a fig tree's mighty shade 
With countless pendent shoots displayed. 
Reclining there a while at ease, 
They saw, not far, beneath fair trees 
A lake with many a lotus bright 
That bore the name of Lovely Sight. 
Rama his wife's attention drew, 
And Lakshman's, to the charming view: 
"Look, brother, look how fair the flood 
Glows with the lotus, flower and bud!" 

They drank the water fresh and clear, 
And with their shafts they slew a deer. 
A fire of boughs they made in haste, 
And in the flame the meat they placed. 
So Raghu's sons with Sita shared 



Canto LIII. Rama's Lament. 547 

The hunter's meal their hands prepared, 
Then counselled that the spreading tree 
Their shelter and their home should be. 



Canto LIII. Rama's Lament. 



When evening rites were duly paid, 
Reclined beneath the leafy shade, 
To Lakshman thus spake Rama, best 
Of those who glad a people's breast: 
"Now the first night has closed the day 
That saw us from our country stray, 
And parted from the charioteer; 
Yet grieve not thou, my brother dear. 
Henceforth by night, when others sleep, 
Must we our careful vigil keep, 
Watching for Sita's welfare thus, 
For her dear life depends on us. 
Bring me the leaves that lie around, 
And spread them here upon the ground, 
That we on lowly beds may lie, 
And let in talk the night go by." 



548 The Ramayana 

So on the ground with leaves o'erspread, 
He who should press a royal bed, 
Rama with Lakshman thus conversed, 
And many a pleasant tale rehearsed: 
"This night the king," he cried, "alas! 
In broken sleep will sadly pass. 
Kaikeyi now content should be, 
For mistress of her wish is she. 
So fiercely she for empire yearns, 
That when her Bharat home returns, 
She in her greed, may even bring 
Destruction on our lord the king. 
What can he do, in feeble eld, 
Reft of all aid and me expelled, 
His soul enslaved by love, a thrall 
Obedient to Kaikeyi's call? 
As thus I muse upon his woe 
And all his wisdoms overthrow, 
Love is, methinks, of greater might 
To stir the heart than gain and right. 
For who, in wisdom's lore untaught, 
Could by a beauty's prayer be bought 
To quit his own obedient son, 
Who loves him, as my sire has done! 
Bharat, Kaikeyi's child, alone 
Will, with his wife, enjoy the throne, 
And blissfully his rule maintain 
O'er happy Kosala's domain. 
To Bharat's single lot will fall 
The kingdom and the power and all, 
When fails the king from length of days, 
And Rama in the forest strays. 
Whoe'er, neglecting right and gain, 
Lets conquering love his soul enchain, 



Canto LIII. Rama's Lament. 549 

To him, like Dasaratha's lot, 
Comes woe with feet that tarry not. 
Methinks at last the royal dame, 
Dear Lakshman, has secured her aim, 
To see at once her husband dead, 
Her son enthroned, and Rama fled. 
Ah me! I fear, lest borne away 
By frenzy of success, she slay 
Kausalya, through her wicked hate 
Of me, bereft, disconsolate; 
Or her who aye for me has striven 
Sumitra, to devotion given. 
Hence, Lakshman, to Ayodhya speed, 
Returning in the hour of need. 
With Sita I my steps will bend 
Where Dandak's mighty woods extend. 
No guardian has Kausalya now: 
O, be her friend and guardian thou. 
Strong hate may vile Kaikeyi lead 
To many a base unrighteous deed, 
Treading my mother 'neath her feet 
When Bharat holds the royal seat. 
Sure in some antenatal time 
Were children, by Kausalya's crime, 
Torn from their mothers' arms away, 
And hence she mourns this evil day. 
She for her child no toil would spare 
Tending me long with pain and care; 
Now in the hour of fruitage she 
Has lost that son, ah, woe is me. 
O Lakshman, may no matron e'er 
A son so doomed to sorrow bear 
As I, my mother's heart who rend 
With anguish that can never end. 



550 The Ramayana 

The Sarika, 325 methinks, possessed 
More love than glows in Rama's breast. 
Who, as the tale is told to us, 
[158] Addressed the stricken parrot thus: 

"Parrot, the capturer's talons tear, 
While yet alone thou flutterest there, 
Before his mouth has closed on me:" 
So cried the bird, herself to free. 
Reft of her son, in childless woe, 
My mother's tears for ever flow: 
Ill-fated, doomed with grief to strive, 
What aid can she from me derive? 
Pressed down by care, she cannot rise 
From sorrow's flood wherein she lies. 
In righteous wrath my single arm 
Could, with my bow, protect from harm 
Ayodhya's town and all the earth: 
But what is hero prowess worth? 
Lest breaking duty's law I sin, 
And lose the heaven I strive to win, 
The forest life today I choose, 
And kingly state and power refuse." 

Thus mourning in that lonely spot 
The troubled chief bewailed his lot, 
And filled with tears, his eyes ran o'er; 
Then silent sat, and spake no more. 
To him, when ceased his loud lament, 
Like fire whose brilliant might is spent, 
Or the great sea when sleeps the wave, 
Thus Lakshman consolation gave: 
"Chief of the brave who bear the bow, 
E'en now Ayodhya, sunk in woe, 



325 The Maind or Gracula religiosa, a favourite cage-bird, easily taught to talk. 



Canto LIV. Bharadvaja's Hermitage. 551 

By thy departure reft of light 
Is gloomy as the moonless night. 
Unfit it seems that thou, O chief, 
Shouldst so afflict thy soul with grief, 
So with thou Sita's heart consign 
To deep despair as well as mine. 
Not I, O Raghu's son, nor she 
Could live one hour deprived of thee: 
We were, without thine arm to save, 
Like fish deserted by the wave. 
Although my mother dear to meet, 
Satrughna, and the king, were sweet, 
On them, or heaven, to feed mine eye 
Were nothing, if thou wert not by." 

Sitting at ease, their glances fell 
Upon the beds, constructed well, 
And there the sons of virtue laid 
Their limbs beneath the fig tree's shade. 



Canto LIV. Bharadvaja's Hermitage. 

So there that night the heroes spent 
Under the boughs that o'er them bent, 
And when the sun his glory spread, 
Upstarting, from the place they sped. 
On to that spot they made their way, 
Through the dense wood that round them lay, 
Where Yamuna's 326 swift waters glide 
To blend with Ganga's holy tide. 



552 The Ramayana 

Charmed with the prospect ever new 
The glorious heroes wandered through 
Full many a spot of pleasant ground, 
Rejoicing as they gazed around, 
With eager eye and heart at ease, 
On countless sorts of flowery trees. 
And now the day was half-way sped 
When thus to Lakshman Rama said: 
"There, there, dear brother, turn thine eyes; 
See near Prayag 327 that smoke arise: 
The banner of our Lord of Flames 
The dwelling of some saint proclaims. 
Near to the place our steps we bend 
Where Yamuna and Ganga blend. 
I hear and mark the deafening roar 
When chafing floods together pour. 
See, near us on the ground are left 
Dry logs, by labouring woodmen cleft, 
And the tall trees, that blossom near 
Saint Bharadvaja's home, appear." 

The bow-armed princes onward passed, 
And as the sun was sinking fast 
They reached the hermit's dwelling, set 
Near where the rushing waters met. 
The presence of the warrior scared 
The deer and birds as on he fared, 
And struck them with unwonted awe: 
Then Bharadvaja's cot they saw. 
The high-souled hermit soon they found 
Girt by his dear disciples round: 
Calm saint, whose vows had well been wrought, 
Whose fervent rites keen sight had bought. 



Canto LIV. Bharadvaja's Hermitage. 553 

Duly had flames of worship blazed 
When Rama on the hermit gazed: 
His suppliant hands the hero raised, 
Drew nearer to the holy man 
With his companions, and began, 
Declaring both his name and race 
And why they sought that distant place: 
"Saint, Dasaratha's children we, 
Rama and Lakshman, come to thee. 
This my good wife from Janak springs, 
The best of fair Videha's kings; 
Through lonely wilds, a faultless dame, 
To this pure grove with me she came. 
My younger brother follows still 
Me banished by my father's will: 
Sumitra's son, bound by a vow, — 
He roams the wood beside me now. 
Sent by my father forth to rove, 
We seek, O Saint, some holy grove, 
Where lives of hermits we may lead, 
And upon fruits and berries feed." 

When Bharadvaja, prudent-souled, 
Had heard the prince his tale unfold, 
Water he bade them bring, a bull, 

And honour-gifts in dishes full, [159] 

And drink and food of varied taste, 
Berries and roots, before him placed, 
And then the great ascetic showed 
A cottage for the guests' abode. 
The saint these honours gladly paid 
To Rama who had thither strayed, 
Then compassed sat by birds and deer 
And many a hermit resting near. 



554 The Ramayana 

The prince received the service kind, 
And sat him down rejoiced in mind. 
Then Bharadvaja silence broke, 
And thus the words of duty spoke: 
"Kakutstha's royal son, that thou 
Hadst sought this grove I knew ere now. 
Mine ears have heard thy story, sent 
Without a sin to banishment. 
Behold, O Prince, this ample space 
Near where the mingling floods embrace, 
Holy, and beautiful, and clear: 
Dwell with us, and be happy here." 



By Bharadvaja thus addressed, 
Rama whose kind and tender breast 
All living things would bless and save, 
In gracious words his answer gave: 



"My honoured lord, this tranquil spot, 
Fair home of hermits, suits me not: 
For all the neighbouring people here 
Will seek us when they know me near: 
With eager wish to look on me, 
And the Videhan dame to see, 
A crowd of rustics will intrude 
Upon the holy solitude. 
Provide, O gracious lord, I pray, 
Some quiet home that lies away, 
Where my Videhan spouse may dwell 
Tasting the bliss deserved so well." 



Canto LIV. Bharadvaja's Hermitage. 555 

The hermit heard the prayer he made: 
A while in earnest thought he stayed, 
And then in words like these expressed 
His answer to the chiefs request: 
"Ten leagues away there stands a hill 
Where thou mayst live, if such thy will: 
A holy mount, exceeding fair; 
Great saints have made their dwelling there: 
There great Langiirs 328 in thousands play, 
And bears amid the thickets stray; 
Wide-known by Chitrakuta's name, 
It rivals Gandhamadan's 329 fame. 
Long as the man that hill who seeks 
Gazes upon its sacred peaks, 
To holy things his soul he gives 
And pure from thought of evil lives. 
There, while a hundred autumns fled, 
Has many a saint with hoary head 
Spent his pure life, and won the prize, 
By deep devotion, in the skies: 
Best home, I ween, if such retreat, 
Far from the ways of men, be sweet: 
Or let thy years of exile flee 
Here in this hermitage with me." 



Thus Bharadvaja spake, and trained 
In lore of duty, entertained 
The princes and the dame, and pressed 
His friendly gifts on every guest. 



328 The Langiir is a large monkey. 



556 The Ramayana 

Thus to Prayag the hero went, 
Thus saw the saint preeminent, 
And varied speeches heard and said: 
Then holy night o'er heaven was spread. 
And Rama took, by toil oppressed, 
With Sita and his brother, rest; 
And so the night, with sweet content, 
In Bharadvaja's grove was spent. 
But when the dawn dispelled the night, 
Rama approached the anchorite, 
And thus addressed the holy sire 
Whose glory shone like kindled fire: 
"Well have we spent, O truthful Sage, 
The night within thy hermitage: 
Now let my lord his guests permit 
For their new home his grove to quit." 

Then, as he saw the morning break, 
In answer Bharadvaja spake: 
"Go forth to Chitrakuta's hill, 
Where berries grow, and sweets distil: 
Full well, I deem, that home will suit 
Thee, Rama, strong and resolute. 
Go forth, and Chitrakuta seek, 
Famed mountain of the Varied Peak. 
In the wild woods that gird him round 
All creatures of the chase are found: 
Thou in the glades shalt see appear 
Vast herds of elephants and deer. 
With Sita there shalt thou delight 
To gaze upon the woody height; 
There with expanding heart to look 
On river, table-land, and brook, 
And see the foaming torrent rave 



Canto LV. The Passage Of Yamuna. 557 

Impetuous from the mountain cave. 
Auspicious hill ! where all day long 
The lapwing's cry, the Koil's song 

Make all who listen gay: 
Where all is fresh and fair to see, 
Where elephants and deer roam free, 

There, as a hermit, stay." 



Canto LV. The Passage Of Yamuna. 



The princely tamers of their foes 

Thus passed the night in calm repose, 

Then to the hermit having bent 

With reverence, on their way they went. 

High favour Bharadvaja showed, 

And blessed them ready for the road. [160] 

With such fond looks as fathers throw 

On their own sons, before they go. 

Then spake the saint with glory bright 

To Rama peerless in his might: 

"First, lords of men, direct your feet 

Where Yamuna and Ganga meet; 

Then to the swift Kalindi 330 go, 

Whose westward waves to Ganga flow. 

When thou shalt see her lovely shore 

Worn by their feet who hasten o'er, 

Then, Raghu's son, a raft prepare, 

And cross the Sun born river there. 

Upon her farther bank a tree, 



330 Another name of the Jumna, daughter of the Sun. 



558 The Ramayana 

Near to the landing wilt thou see. 
The blessed source of varied gifts, 
There her green boughs that Fig-tree lifts: 
A tree where countless birds abide, 
By Syama's name known far and wide. 
Sita, revere that holy shade: 
There be thy prayers for blessing prayed. 
Thence for a league your way pursue, 
And a dark wood shall meet your view, 
Where tall bamboos their foliage show, 
The Gum-tree and the Jujube grow. 
To Chitrakuta have I oft 
Trodden that path so smooth and soft, 
Where burning woods no traveller scare, 
But all is pleasant, green, and fair." 

When thus the guests their road had learned, 
Back to his cot the hermit turned, 
And Rama, Lakshman, Sita paid 
Their reverent thanks for courteous aid. 
Thus Rama spake to Lakshman, when 
The saint had left the lords of men: 
"Great store of bliss in sooth is ours 
On whom his love the hermit showers." 
As each to other wisely talked, 
The lion lords together walked 
On to Kalindfs woody shore; 
And gentle Sita went before. 
They reached that flood, whose waters flee 
With rapid current to the sea; 
Their minds a while to thought they gave 
And counselled how to cross the wave. 
At length, with logs together laid, 
A mighty raft the brothers made. 



Canto LV. The Passage Of Yamuna. 559 

Then dry bamboos across were tied, 
And grass was spread from side to side. 
And the great hero Lakshman brought 
Cane and Rose- Apple boughs and wrought, 
Trimming the branches smooth and neat, 
For SM's use a pleasant seat. 
And Rama placed thereon his dame 
Touched with a momentary shame, 
Resembling in her glorious mien 
All-thought-surpassing Fortune's Queen. 
Then Rama hastened to dispose, 
Each in its place, the skins and bows, 
And by the fair Videhan laid 
The coats, the ornaments, and spade. 
When Sita thus was set on board, 
And all their gear was duly stored, 
The heroes each with vigorous hand, 
Pushed off the raft and left the land. 
When half its way the raft had made, 
Thus Sita to Kalindi prayed: 
"Goddess, whose flood I traverse now, 
Grant that my lord may keep his vow. 
For thee shall bleed a thousand kine, 
A hundred jars shall pour their wine, 
When Rama sees that town again 
Where old Ikshvaku's children reign." 

Thus to Kalindfs stream she sued 
And prayed in suppliant attitude. 
Then to the river's bank the dame, 
Fervent in supplication, came. 
They left the raft that brought them o'er, 
And the thick wood that clothed the shore, 
And to the Fig-tree Syama made 



560 The Ramayana 

Their way, so cool with verdant shade. 
Then Sita viewed that best of trees, 
And reverent spake in words like these: 
"Hail, hail, O mighty tree! Allow 
My husband to complete his vow; 
Let us returning, I entreat, 
Kausalya and Sumitra meet." 
Then with her hands together placed 
Around the tree she duly paced. 
When Rama saw his blameless spouse 
A suppliant under holy boughs, 
The gentle darling of his heart, 
He thus to Lakshman spake apart: 
"Brother, by thee our way be led; 
Let Sita close behind thee tread: 
I, best of men, will grasp my bow, 
And hindmost of the three will go. 
What fruits soe'er her fancy take, 
Or flowers half hidden in the brake, 
For Janak's child forget not thou 
To gather from the brake or bough." 

Thus on they fared. The tender dame 
Asked Rama, as they walked, the name 
Of every shrub that blossoms bore, 
Creeper, and tree unseen before: 
And Lakshman fetched, at Sita's prayer, 
Boughs of each tree with clusters fair. 
Then Janak's daughter joyed to see 
The sand-discoloured river flee, 
Where the glad cry of many a bird, 
The saras and the swan, was heard. 
A league the brothers travelled through 
The forest noble game they slew: 



Canto LVI. Chitrakiita 561 

Beneath the trees their meal they dressed 
And sat them down to eat and rest. 
A while in that delightful shade 
Where elephants unnumbered strayed, 

Where peacocks screamed and monkeys played, [161] 

They wandered with delight. 
Then by the river's side they found 
A pleasant spot of level ground, 
Where all was smooth and fair around, 
Their lodging for the night. 



Canto LVI. Chitrakuta 



Then Rama, when the morning rose, 
Called Lakshman gently from repose: 
"Awake, the pleasant voices hear 
Of forest birds that warble near. 
Scourge of thy foes, no longer stay; 
The hour is come to speed away." 



562 The Ramayana 

The slumbering prince unclosed his eyes 
When thus his brother bade him rise, 
Compelling, at the timely cry, 
Fatigue, and sleep, and rest to fly. 
The brothers rose and Sita too; 
Pure water from the stream they drew, 
Paid morning rites, then followed still 
The road to Chitrakuta's hill. 
Then Rama as he took the road 
With Lakshman, while the morning, glowed, 
To the Videhan lady cried, 
Sita the fair, the lotus-eyed: 
"Look round thee, dear; each flowery tree 
Touched with the fire of morning see: 
The Kinsuk, now the Frosts are fled, — 
How glorious with his wreaths of red! 
The Bel-trees see, so loved of men, 
Hanging their boughs in every glen. 
O'erburthened with their fruit and flowers: 
A plenteous store of food is ours. 
See, Lakshman, in the leafy trees, 
Where'er they make their home. 
Down hangs, the work of labouring bees 

The ponderous honeycomb. 
In the fair wood before us spread 

The startled wild-cock cries: 
Hark, where the flowers are soft to tread, 

The peacock's voice replies. 
Where elephants are roaming free, 
And sweet birds' songs are loud, 
The glorious Chitrakuta see: 
His peaks are in the cloud. 
On fair smooth ground he stands displayed, 
Begirt by many a tree: 



Canto LVI. Chitrakiita 563 

O brother, in that holy shade 
How happy shall we be!" 331 
Then Rama, Lakshman, Sita, each 
Spoke raising suppliant hands this speech 
To him, in woodland dwelling met, 
VaTmfki, ancient anchoret: 
"O Saint, this mountain takes the mind, 
With creepers, trees of every kind, 
With fruit and roots abounding thus, 
A pleasant life it offers us: 
Here for a while we fain would stay, 
And pass a season blithe and gay." 



Then the great saint, in duty trained, 
With honour gladly entertained: 
He gave his guests a welcome fair, 
And bade them sit and rest them there, 
Rama of mighty arm and chest 
His faithful Lakshman then addressed: 
"Brother, bring hither from the wood 
Selected timber strong and good, 
And build therewith a little cot; 
My heart rejoices in the spot 
That lies beneath the mountain's side, 
Remote, with water well supplied." 



"We have often looked on that green hill: it is the holiest spot of that sect 
of the Hindu faith who devote themselves to this incarnation of Vishnu. The 
whole neighbourhood is Rama's country. Every headland has some legend, 
every cavern is connected with his name; some of the wild fruits are still 
called Sitdphal, being the reputed food of the exile. Thousands and thousands 
annually visit the spot, and round the hill is a raised foot-path, on which the 
devotee, with naked feet, treads full of pious awe." Calcutta Review, Vol. 
XXIII. 



564 The Ramayana 

Sumitra's son his words obeyed, 
Brought many a tree, and deftly made, 
With branches in the forest cut, 
As Rama bade, a leafy hut. 
Then Rama, when the cottage stood 
Fair, firmly built, and walled with wood, 
To Lakshman spake, whose eager mind 
To do his brother's will inclined: 
"Now, Lakshman as our cot is made, 
Must sacrifice be duly paid 
By us, for lengthened life who hope, 
With venison of the antelope. 
Away, O bright-eyed Lakshman, speed: 
Struck by thy bow a deer must bleed: 
As Scripture bids, we must not slight 
The duty that commands the rite." 

Lakshman, the chief whose arrows laid 
His foemen low, his word obeyed; 
And Rama thus again addressed 
The swift performer of his hest: 
"Prepare the venison thou hast shot, 
To sacrifice for this our cot. 
Haste, brother dear, for this the hour, 
And this the day of certain power." 
Then glorious Lakshman took the buck 
His arrow in the wood had struck; 
Bearing his mighty load he came, 
[162] And laid it in the kindled flame. 

Soon as he saw the meat was done, 
And that the juices ceased to run 
From the broiled carcass, Lakshman then 
Spoke thus to Rama best of men: 
"The carcass of the buck, entire, 



Canto LVI. Chitrakiita 565 

Is ready dressed upon the fire. 
Now be the sacred rites begun 
To please the God, thou godlike one." 

Rama the good, in ritual trained, 
Pure from the bath, with thoughts restrained, 
Hasted those verses to repeat 
Which make the sacrifice complete. 
The hosts celestial came in view, 
And Rama to the cot withdrew, 
While a sweet sense of rapture stole 
Through the unequalled hero's soul. 
He paid the Visvedevas 332 due. 
And Rudra's right, and Vishnu's too, 
Nor wonted blessings, to protect 
Their new-built home, did he neglect. 
With voice repressed he breathed the prayer, 
Bathed duly in the river fair, 
And gave good offerings that remove 
The stain of sin, as texts approve. 
And many an altar there he made, 
And shrines, to suit the holy shade, 
All decked with woodland chaplets sweet, 
And fruit and roots and roasted meat, 
With muttered prayer, as texts require, 
Water, and grass and wood and fire. 
So Rama, Lakshman, SM paid 
Their offerings to each God and shade, 
And entered then their pleasant cot 
That bore fair signs of happy lot. 
They entered, the illustrious three, 



332 Deities of a particular class in which five or ten are enumerated. They 
are worshipped particularly at the funeral obsequies in honour of deceased 
progenitors. 



566 The Ramayana 

The well-set cottage, fair to see, 
Roofed with the leaves of many a tree, 

And fenced from wind and rain: 
So, at their Father Brahma's call, 
The Gods of heaven, assembling all, 
To their own glorious council hall 

Advance in shining train. 
So, resting on that lovely hill, 
Near the fair lily-covered rill, 

The happy prince forgot, 
Surrounded by the birds and deer, 
The woe, the longing, and the fear 

That gloom the exile's lot. 



Canto LVII. Sumantra's Return. 



When Rama reached the southern bank, 
King Guha's heart with sorrow sank: 
He with Sumantra talked, and spent 
With his deep sorrow, homeward went. 
Sumantra, as the king decreed, 
Yoked to the car each noble steed, 
And to Ayodhya's city sped 
With his sad heart disquieted. 
On lake and brook and scented grove 
His glances fell, as on he drove: 
City and village came in view 
As o'er the road his coursers flew. 
On the third day the charioteer, 
When now the hour of night was near, 
Came to Ayodhya's gate, and found 



Canto LVII. Sumantra's Return. 567 

The city all in sorrow drowned. 
To him, in spirit quite cast down, 
Forsaken seemed the silent town, 
And by the rush of grief oppressed 
He pondered in his mournful breast: 
"Is all Ayodhya burnt with grief, 
Steed, elephant, and man, and chief? 
Does her loved Rama's exile so 
Afflict her with the fires of woe?" 
Thus as he mused, his steeds flew fast, 
And swiftly through the gate he passed. 
On drove the charioteer, and then 
In hundreds, yea in thousands, men 
Ran to the car from every side, 
And, "Rama, where is Rama?" cried. 
Sumantra said: "My chariot bore 
The duteous prince to Ganga's shore; 
I left him there at his behest, 
And homeward to Ayodhya pressed." 
Soon as the anxious people knew 
That he was o'er the flood they drew 
Deep sighs, and crying, Rama! all 
Wailed, and big tears began to fall. 
He heard the mournful words prolonged, 
As here and there the people thronged: 
"Woe, woe for us, forlorn, undone, 
No more to look on Raghu's son! 
His like again we ne'er shall see, 
Of heart so true, of hand so free, 
In gifts, in gatherings for debate, 
When marriage pomps we celebrate, 
What should we do? What earthly thing 
Can rest, or hope, or pleasure bring?" 



568 The Ramayana 

Thus the sad town, which Rama kept 
As a kind father, wailed and wept. 
Each mansion, as the car went by, 
Sent forth a loud and bitter cry, 
As to the window every dame, 
Mourning for banished Rama, came. 
As his sad eyes with tears o'erflowed, 
He sped along the royal road 
To Dasaratha's high abode. 
There leaping down his car he stayed; 
Within the gates his way he made; 
Through seven broad courts he onward hied 
Where people thronged on every side. 
From each high terrace, wild with woe, 
[163] The royal ladies flocked below: 

He heard them talk in gentle tone, 
As each for Rama made her moan: 
"What will the charioteer reply 
To Queen Kausalya's eager cry? 
With Rama from the gates he went; 
Homeward alone, his steps are bent. 
Hard is a life with woe distressed, 
But difficult to win is rest, 
If, when her son is banished, still 
She lives beneath her load of ill." 

Such was the speech Sumantra heard 
From them whom grief unfeigned had stirred. 
As fires of anguish burnt him through, 
Swift to the monarch's hall he drew, 
Past the eighth court; there met his sight, 
The sovereign in his palace bright, 
Still weeping for his son, forlorn, 
Pale, faint, and all with sorrow worn. 



Canto LVII. Sumantra's Return. 569 

As there he sat, Sumantra bent 

And did obeisance reverent, 

And to the king repeated o'er 

The message he from Rama bore. 

The monarch heard, and well-nigh brake 

His heart, but yet no word he spake: 

Fainting to earth he fell, and dumb, 

By grief for Rama overcome. 

Rang through the hall a startling cry, 

And women's arms were tossed on high, 

When, with his senses all astray, 

Upon the ground the monarch lay. 

Kausalya, with Sumitra's aid, 

Raised from the ground her lord dismayed: 

"Sire, of high fate," she cried, "O, why 

Dost thou no single word reply 

To Rama's messenger who brings 

News of his painful wanderings? 

The great injustice done, art thou 

Shame-stricken for thy conduct now? 

Rise up, and do thy part: bestow 

Comfort and help in this our woe. 

Speak freely, King; dismiss thy fear, 

For Queen Kaikeyi stands not near, 

Afraid of whom thou wouldst not seek 

Tidings of Rama: freely speak." 

When the sad queen had ended so, 
She sank, insatiate in her woe, 
And prostrate lay upon the ground, 
While her faint voice by sobs was drowned. 
When all the ladies in despair 
Saw Queen Kausalya wailing there, 
And the poor king oppressed with pain, 



570 The Ramayana 

They flocked around and wept again. 

Canto LVIII. Rama's Message. 

The king a while had senseless lain, 
When care brought memory back again. 
Then straight he called, the news to hear 
Of Rama, for the charioteer, 
With reverent hand to hand applied 
He waited by the old man's side, 
Whose mind with anguish was distraught 
Like a great elephant newly caught. 
The king with bitter pain distressed 
The faithful charioteer addressed, 
Who, sad of mien, with flooded eye, 
And dust upon his limbs, stood by: 
"Where will be Rama's dwelling now 
At some tree's foot, beneath the bough; 
Ah, what will be the exile's food, 
Bred up with kind solicitude? 
Can he, long lapped in pleasant rest, 
Unmeet for pain, by pain oppressed, 
Son of earth's king, his sad night spend 
Earth-couched, as one that has no friend? 
Behind him, when abroad he sped, 
Cars, elephant, and foot were led: 
Then how shall Rama dwell afar 
In the wild woods where no men are? 
How, tell me, did the princes there, 
With Sita good and soft and fair, 
Alighting from the chariot, tread 



Canto LVIII. Rama's Message. 571 

The forest wilds around them spread? 

A happy lot is thine, I ween, 

Whose eyes my two dear sons have seen 

Seeking on foot the forest shade, 

Like the bright Twins to view displayed, 

The heavenly Asvins, when they seek 

The woods that hang 'neath Mandar's peak. 

What words, Sumantra, quickly tell, 

From Rama, Lakshman, Sita fell? 

How in the wood did Rama eat? 

What was his bed, and what his seat? 

Full answer to my questions give, 

For I on thy replies shall live, 

As with the saints Yayati held 

Sweet converse, from the skies expelled." 

Urged by the lord of men to speak, 
Whose sobbing voice came faint and weak, 
Thus he, while tears his utterance broke, 
In answer to the monarch spoke: 
"Hear then the words that Rama said, 
Resolved in duty's path to tread. 
Joining his hands, his head he bent, 
And gave this message, reverent: 
"Sumantra, to my father go, 
Whose lofty mind all people know: 
Bow down before him, as is meet, 
And in my stead salute his feet. 
Then to the queen my mother bend, 
And give the greeting that I send: 
Ne'er may her steps from duty err, 
And may it still be well with her. 
And add this word: "O Queen, pursue 
Thy vows with faithful heart and true; 



572 The Ramayana 

And ever at due season turn 
Where holy fires of worship burn. 
[164] And, lady, on our lord bestow 

Such honour as to Gods we owe. 
Be kind to every queen: let pride 
And thought of self be cast aside. 
In the king's fond opinion raise 
Kaikeyi, by respect and praise. 
Let the young Bharat ever be 
Loved, honoured as the king by thee: 
Thy king-ward duty ne'er forget: 
High over all are monarchs set." 

And Bharat, too, for me address: 
Pray that all health his life may bless. 
Let every royal lady share, 
As justice bids, his love and care. 
Say to the strong-armed chief who brings 
Joy to Iksvaku's line of kings: 
"As ruling prince thy care be shown 
Of him, our sire, who holds the throne. 
Stricken in years he feels their weight; 
But leave him in his royal state. 
As regent heir content thee still, 
Submissive to thy father's will.' " 
Rama again his charge renewed, 
As the hot flood his cheek bedewed: 
"Hold as thine own my mother dear 
Who drops for me the longing tear." 
Then Lakshman, with his soul on fire, 
Spake breathing fast these words of ire: 
"Say, for what sin, for what offence 
Was royal Rama banished thence? 
He is the cause, the king: poor slave 



Canto LVIII. Rama's Message. 573 

To the light charge Kaikeyi gave. 

Let right or wrong the motive be, 

The author of our woe is he. 

Whether the exile were decreed 

Through foolish faith or guilty greed, 

For promises or empire, still 

The king has wrought a grievous ill. 

Grant that the Lord of all saw fit 

To prompt the deed and sanction it, 

In Rama's life no cause I see 

For which the king should bid him flee. 

His blinded eyes refused to scan 

The guilt and folly of the plan, 

And from the weakness of the king 

Here and hereafter woe shall spring. 

No more my sire: the ties that used 

To bind me to the king are loosed. 

My brother Rama, Raghu's son, 

To me is lord, friend, sire in one. 

The love of men how can he win, 

Deserting, by the cruel sin, 

Their joy, whose heart is swift to feel 

A pleasure in the people's weal? 

Shall he whose mandate could expel 

The virtuous Rama, loved so well, 

To whom his subjects' fond hearts cling — 

Shall he in spite of them be king?" 

But Janak's child, my lord, stood by, 
And oft the votaress heaved a sigh. 
She seemed with dull and wandering sense, 
Beneath a spirit's influence. 
The noble princess, pained with woe 
Which till that hour she ne'er could know, 



574 The Ramayana 

Tears in her heavy trouble shed, 

But not a word to me she said. 

She raised her face which grief had dried 

And tenderly her husband eyed, 

Gazed on him as he turned to go 

While tear chased tear in rapid flow." 



Canto LIX. Dasaratha's Lament. 



As thus Sumantra, best of peers, 
Told his sad tale with many tears, 
The monarch cried, "I pray thee, tell 
At length again what there befell." 
Sumantra, at the king's behest, 
Striving with sobs he scarce repressed, 
His trembling voice at last controlled, 
And thus his further tidings told: 
"Their locks in votive coils they wound, 
Their coats of bark upon them bound, 
To Ganga's farther shore they went, 
Thence to Prayag their steps were bent. 
I saw that Lakshman walked ahead 
To guard the path the two should tread. 
So far I saw, no more could learn, 
Forced by the hero to return. 
Retracing slow my homeward course, 
Scarce could I move each stubborn horse: 
Shedding hot tears of grief he stood 



Canto LIX. Dasaratha's Lament. 575 

When Rama turned him to the wood. 333 

As the two princes parted thence 

I raised my hands in reverence, 

Mounted my ready car, and bore 

The grief that stung me to the core. 

With Guha all that day I stayed, 

Still by the earnest hope delayed 

That Rama, ere the time should end, 

Some message from the wood might send. 

Thy realms, great Monarch, mourn the blow, 

And sympathize with Rama's woe. [165] 

Each withering tree hangs low his head, 

And shoot, and bud, and flower are dead. 

Dried are the floods that wont to fill 

The lake, the river, and the rill. 

Drear is each grove and garden now, 

Dry every blossom on the bough. 

Each beast is still, no serpents crawl: 

A lethargy of woe on all. 

The very wood is silent: crushed 

With grief for Rama, all is hushed. 

Fair blossoms from the water born, 

Gay garlands that the earth adorn, 

And every fruit that gleams like gold, 

Have lost the scent that charmed of old. 

Empty is every grove I see, 



333 "So in Homer the horses of Achilles lamented with many bitter tears the 
death of Patroclus slain by Hector:" 

""Ittttoi 5' AiavdSao, ndxnc. anavevQev eotec., 

KXaiov, £Tt£i5r) Tipwra Ttu6£o6r|v r|vi6xoio 

'Ev Kovivoi tteoovtoc. ucp' "EKTopoc. dvSpocpovoio" 

ILIAD.JFNS XVII. 426. 

"Ancient poesy frequently associated nature with the joys and sorrows of 
man." GORRESIO.{FNS 



576 The Ramayana 

Or birds sit pensive on the tree. 
Where'er I look, its beauty o'er, 
The pleasance charms not as before. 
I drove through fair Ayodhya's street: 
None flew with joy the car to meet. 
They saw that Rama was not there, 
And turned them sighing in despair. 
The people in the royal way 
Wept tears of bitter grief, when they 
Beheld me coming, from afar, 
No Rama with me in the car. 
From palace roof and turret high 
Each woman bent her eager eye; 
She looked for Rama, but in vain; 
Gazed on the car and shrieked for pain. 
Their long clear eyes with sorrow drowned 
They, when this common grief was found, 
Looked each on other, friend and foe, 
In sympathy of levelling woe: 
No shade of difference between 
Foe, friend, or neutral, there was seen. 
Without a joy, her bosom rent 
With grief for Rama's banishment, 
Ayodhya like the queen appears 
Who mourns her son with many tears." 



Canto LIX. Dasaratha's Lament. 577 

He ended: and the king, distressed. 
With sobbing voice that lord addressed: 
"Ah me, by false Kaikeyi led, 
Of evil race, to evil bred, 
I took no counsel of the sage, 
Nor sought advice from skill and age, 
I asked no lord his aid to lend, 
I called no citizen or friend. 
Rash was my deed, bereft of sense 
Slave to a woman's influence. 
Surely, my lord, a woe so great 
Falls on us by the will of Fate; 
It lays the house of Raghu low, 
For Destiny will have it so. 
I pray thee, if I e'er have done 
An act to please thee, yea, but one, 
Fly, fly, and Rama homeward lead: 
My life, departing, counsels speed. 
Fly, ere the power to bid I lack, 
Fly to the wood: bring Rama back. 
I cannot live for even one 
Short hour bereaved of my son. 
But ah, the prince, whose arms are strong, 
Has journeyed far: the way is long: 
Me, me upon the chariot place, 
And let me look on Rama's face. 
Ah me, my son, mine eldest-born, 
Where roams he in the wood forlorn, 
The wielder of the mighty bow, 
Whose shoulders like the lion's show? 
O, ere the light of life be dim, 
Take me to Sita and to him. 
O Rama, Lakshman, and O thou 
Dear Sita, constant to thy vow, 



578 The Ramayana 

Beloved ones, you cannot know 
That I am dying of my woe." 

The king to bitter grief a prey, 
That drove each wandering sense away, 
Sunk in affliction's sea, too wide 
To traverse, in his anguish cried: 
"Hard, hard to pass, my Queen, this sea 
Of sorrow raging over me: 
No Rama near to soothe mine eye, 
Plunged in its lowest deeps I lie. 
Sorrow for Rama swells the tide, 
And Sita's absence makes it wide: 
My tears its foamy flood distain, 
Made billowy by my sighs of pain: 
My cries its roar, the arms I throw 
About me are the fish below, 
Kaikeyi is the fire that feeds 
Beneath: my hair the tangled weeds: 
Its source the tears for Rama shed: 
The hump-back's words its monsters dread: 
The boon I gave the wretch its shore, 
Till Rama's banishment be o'er. 334 

Ah me, that I should long to set 
My eager eyes to-day 

On Raghu's son, and he be yet 
With Lakshman far away!" 

Thus he of lofty glory wailed, 
And sank upon the bed. 

Beneath the woe his spirit failed, 
And all his senses fled. 



334 The lines containing this heap of forced metaphors are marked as spurious 
by Schlegel. 



Canto LX. Kausalya Consoled. 579 

Canto LX. Kausalya Consoled. 

As Queen Kausalya, trembling much, 

As blighted by a goblin's touch, 

Still lying prostrate, half awoke 

To consciousness, 'twas thus she spoke: 

"Bear me away, Sumantra, far, 

Where Rama, Sita, Lakshman are. 

Bereft of them I have no power 

To linger on a single hour. [166] 

Again, I pray, thy steps retrace, 

And me in Dandak forest place, 

For after them I needs must go, 

Or sink to Yama's realms below." 

His utterance choked by tears that rolled 
Down from their fountains uncontrolled, 
With suppliant hands the charioteer 
Thus spake, the lady's heart to cheer: 
"Dismiss thy grief, despair, and dread 
That fills thy soul, of sorrow bred, 
For pain and anguish thrown aside, 
Will Rama in the wood abide. 
And Lakshman, with unfailing care 
Will guard the feet of Rama there, 
Earning, with governed sense, the prize 
That waits on duty in the skies. 
And Sita in the wild as well 
As in her own dear home will dwell; 
To Rama all her heart she gives, 
And free from doubt and terror lives. 
No faintest sign of care or woe 
The features of the lady show: 
Methinks Videha's pride was made 



580 The Ramayana 

For exile in the forest shade. 
E'en as of old she used to rove 
Delighted in the city's grove, 
Thus, even thus she joys to tread 
The woodlands uninhabited. 
Like a young child, her face as fair 
As the young moon, she wanders there. 
What though in lonely woods she stray 
Still Rama is her joy and stay: 
All his the heart no sorrow bends, 
Her very life on him depends. 
For, if her lord she might not see, 
Ayodhya like the wood would be. 
She bids him, as she roams, declare 
The names of towns and hamlets there, 
Marks various trees that meet her eye, 
And many a brook that hurries by, 
And Janak's daughter seems to roam 
One little league away from home 
When Rama or his brother speaks 
And gives the answer that she seeks. 
This, Lady, I remember well, 
Nor angry words have I to tell: 
Reproaches at Kaikeyi shot, 
Such, Queen, my mind remembers not." 
The speech when Sita's wrath was high, 
Sumantra passed in silence by, 
That so his pleasant words might cheer 
With sweet report Kausalya's ear. 
"Her moonlike beauty suffers not 
Though winds be rude and suns be hot: 
The way, the danger, and the toil 
Her gentle lustre may not soil. 
Like the red lily's leafy crown 



Canto LX. Kausalya Consoled. 581 

Or as the fair full moon looks down, 

So the Videhan lady's face 

Still shines with undiminished grace. 

What if the borrowed colours throw 

O'er her fine feet no rosy glow, 

Still with their natural tints they spread 

A lotus glory where they tread. 

In sportive grace she walks the ground 

And sweet her chiming anklets sound. 

No jewels clasp the faultless limb: 

She leaves them all for love of him. 

If in the woods her gentle eye 

A lion sees, or tiger nigh, 

Or elephant, she fears no ill 

For Rama's arm supports her still. 

No longer be their fate deplored, 

Nor thine, nor that of Kosal's lord, 

For conduct such as theirs shall buy 

Wide glory that can never die. 

For casting grief and care away, 

Delighting in the forest, they 

With joyful spirits, blithe and gay, 

Set forward on the ancient way 

Where mighty saints have led: 
Their highest aim, their dearest care 
To keep their father's honour fair, 
Observing still the oath he sware, 

They roam, on wild fruit fed." 
Thus with persuasive art he tried 
To turn her from her grief aside, 

By soothing fancies won. 
But still she gave her sorrow vent: 
"Ah Rama," was her shrill lament, 

"My love, my son, my son!" 



582 The Ramayana 

Canto LXI. Kausalya's Lament. 

When, best of all who give delight, 
Her Rama wandered far from sight, 
Kausalya weeping, sore distressed, 
The king her husband thus addressed: 
"Thy name, O Monarch, far and wide 
Through the three worlds is glorified: 
Yet Rama's is the pitying mind, 
His speed is true, his heart is kind. 
How will thy sons, good lord, sustain 
With Sita, all their care and pain? 
How in the wild endure distress, 
Nursed in the lap of tenderness? 
How will the dear Videhan bear 
The heat and cold when wandering there 
Bred in the bliss of princely state, 
So young and fair and delicate? 
The large-eyed lady, wont to eat 
The best of finely seasoned meat — 
How will she now her life sustain 
With woodland fare of self-sown grain? 
Will she, with joys encompassed long, 
Who loved the music and the song, 
In the wild wood endure to hear 
The ravening lion's voice of fear? 
[167] Where sleeps my strong-armed hero, where, 

Like Lord Mahendra's standard, fair? 
Where is, by Lakshman's side, his bed, 
His club-like arm beneath his head? 
When shall I see his flower-like eyes, 
And face that with the lotus vies, 
Feel his sweet lily breath, and view 
His glorious hair and lotus hue? 



Canto LXI. Kausalya's Lament. 583 

The heart within my breast, I feel, 

Is adamant or hardest steel, 

Or, in a thousand fragments split, 

The loss of him had shattered it, 

When those I love, who should be blest, 

Are wandering in the wood distressed, 

Condemned their wretched lives to lead 

In exile, by thy ruthless deed. 

If, when the fourteen years are past, 

Rama reseeks his home at last, 

I think not Bharat will consent 

To yield the wealth and government. 

At funeral feasts some mourners deal 

To kith and kin the solemn meal, 

And having duly fed them all 

Some Brahmans to the banquet call. 

The best of Brahmans, good and wise, 

The tardy summoning despise, 

And, equal to the Gods, disdain 

Cups, e'en of Amrit, thus to drain. 

Nay e'en when Brahmans first have fed, 

They loathe the meal for others spread, 

And from the leavings turn with scorn, 

As bulls avoid a fractured horn. 

So Rama, sovereign lord of men, 

Will spurn the sullied kingship then: 

He born the eldest and the best, 

His younger's leavings will detest, 

Turning from tasted food away, 

As tigers scorn another's prey. 

The sacred post is used not twice, 

Nor elements, in sacrifice. 

But once the sacred grass is spread, 

But once with oil the flame is fed: 



584 The Ramayana 

So Rama's pride will ne'er receive 

The royal power which others leave, 

Like wine when tasteless dregs are left, 

Or rites of Soma juice bereft. 

Be sure the pride of Raghu's race 

Will never stoop to such disgrace: 

The lordly lion will not bear 

That man should beard him in his lair. 

Were all the worlds against him ranged 

His dauntless soul were still unchanged: 

He, dutiful, in duty strong, 

Would purge the impious world from wrong. 

Could not the hero, brave and bold, 

The archer, with his shafts of gold, 

Burn up the very seas, as doom 

Will in the end all life consume? 

Of lion's might, eyed like a bull, 

A prince so brave and beautiful, 

Thou hast with wicked hate pursued, 

Like sea-born tribes who eat their brood. 

If thou, O Monarch, hadst but known 

The duty all the Twice-born own, 

If the good laws had touched thy mind, 

Which sages in the Scriptures find, 

Thou ne'er hadst driven forth to pine 

This brave, this duteous son of thine. 

First on her lord the wife depends, 

Next on her son and last on friends: 

These three supports in life has she, 

And not a fourth for her may be. 

Thy heart, O King, I have not won; 

In wild woods roams my banished son; 

Far are my friends: ah, hapless me, 

Quite ruined and destroyed by thee." 



Canto LXII. Dasaratha Consoled. 585 

Canto LXII. Dasaratha Consoled. 

The queen's stern speech the monarch heard, 

As rage and grief her bosom stirred, 

And by his anguish sore oppressed 

Reflected in his secret breast. 

Fainting and sad, with woe distraught, 

He wandered in a maze of thought; 

At length the queller of the foe 

Grew conscious, rallying from his woe. 

When consciousness returned anew 

Long burning sighs the monarch drew, 

Again immersed in thought he eyed 

Kausalya standing by his side. 

Back to his pondering soul was brought 

The direful deed his hand had wrought, 

When, guiltless of the wrong intent, 

His arrow at a sound was sent. 

Distracted by his memory's sting, 

And mourning for his son, the king 

To two consuming griefs a prey, 

A miserable victim lay. 

The double woe devoured him fast, 

As on the ground his eyes he cast, 

Joined suppliant hands, her heart to touch, 

And spake in the answer, trembling much: 

"Kausalya, for thy grace I sue, 

Joining these hands as suppliants do. 

Thou e'en to foes hast ever been 

A gentle, good, and loving queen. 

Her lord, with noble virtues graced, 

Her lord, by lack of all debased, 

Is still a God in woman's eyes, 

If duty's law she hold and prize. 



586 The Ramayana 

Thou, who the right hast aye pursued, 
Life's changes and its chances viewed, 
Shouldst never launch, though sorrow-stirred, 
At me distressed, one bitter word." 

She listened, as with sorrow faint 
He murmured forth his sad complaint: 
Her brimming eyes with tears ran o'er, 
[168] As spouts the new fallen water pour; 

His suppliant hands, with fear dismayed 

She gently clasped in hers, and laid, 

Like a fair lotus, on her head, 

And faltering in her trouble said: 

"Forgive me; at thy feet I lie, 

With low bent head to thee I cry. 

By thee besought, thy guilty dame 

Pardon from thee can scarcely claim. 

She merits not the name of wife 

Who cherishes perpetual strife 

With her own husband good and wise, 

Her lord both here and in the skies. 

I know the claims of duty well, 

I know thy lips the truth must tell. 

All the wild words I rashly spoke, 

Forth from my heart, through anguish, broke; 

For sorrow bends the stoutest soul, 

And cancels Scripture's high control. 

Yea, sorrow's might all else o'erthrows 

The strongest and the worst of foes. 

'Tis thus with all: we keenly feel, 

Yet bear the blows our foemen deal, 

But when a slender woe assails 

The manliest spirit bends and quails. 

The fifth long night has now begun 



Canto LXIII. The Hermit's Son. 587 

Since the wild woods have lodged my son: 
To me whose joy is drowned in tears, 
Each day a dreary year appears. 
While all my thoughts on him are set 
Grief at my heart swells wilder yet: 
With doubled might thus Ocean raves 
When rushing floods increase his waves." 

As from Kausalya reasoning well 
The gentle words of wisdom fell, 
The sun went down with dying flame, 
And darkness o'er the landscape came. 
His lady's soothing words in part 
Relieved the monarch's aching heart, 
Who, wearied out by all his woes, 
Yielded to sleep and took repose. 



Canto LXIII. The Hermit's Son. 



But soon by rankling grief oppressed 
The king awoke from troubled rest, 
And his sad heart was tried again 
With anxious thought where all was pain. 
Rama and Lakshman's mournful fate 
On Dasaratha, good and great 
As Indra, pressed with crushing weight, 
As when the demon's might assails 
The Sun-God, and his glory pales. 
Ere yet the sixth long night was spent, 
Since Rama to the woods was sent, 
The king at midnight sadly thought 



588 The Ramayana 

Of the old crime his hand had wrought, 

And thus to Queen Kausalya cried 

Who still for Rama moaned and sighed: 

"If thou art waking, give, I pray, 

Attention to the words I say. 

Whate'er the conduct men pursue, 

Be good or ill the acts they do, 

Be sure, dear Queen, they find the meed 

Of wicked or of virtuous deed. 

A heedless child we call the man 

Whose feeble judgment fails to scan 

The weight of what his hands may do, 

Its lightness, fault, and merit too. 

One lays the Mango garden low, 

And bids the gay Palasas grow: 

Longing for fruit their bloom he sees, 

But grieves when fruit should bend the trees. 

Cut by my hand, my fruit-trees fell, 

Palasa trees I watered well. 

My hopes this foolish heart deceive, 

And for my banished son I grieve. 

Kausalya, in my youthful prime 

Armed with my bow I wrought the crime, 

Proud of my skill, my name renowned, 

An archer prince who shoots by sound. 

The deed this hand unwitting wrought 

This misery on my soul has brought, 

As children seize the deadly cup 

And blindly drink the poison up. 

As the unreasoning man may be 

Charmed with the gay Palasa tree, 

I unaware have reaped the fruit 

Of joying at a sound to shoot. 

As regent prince I shared the throne, 



Canto LXIII. The Hermit's Son. 589 

Thou wast a maid to me unknown, 

The early Rain-time duly came, 

And strengthened love's delicious flame. 

The sun had drained the earth that lay 

All glowing 'neath the summer day, 

And to the gloomy clime had fled 

Where dwell the spirits of the dead. 335 

The fervent heat that moment ceased, 

The darkening clouds each hour increased 

And frogs and deer and peacocks all 

Rejoiced to see the torrents fall. 

Their bright wings heavy from the shower, 

The birds, new-bathed, had scarce the power 

To reach the branches of the trees 

Whose high tops swayed beneath the breeze. 

The fallen rain, and falling still, 

Hung like a sheet on every hill, 

Till, with glad deer, each flooded steep 

Showed glorious as the mighty deep. 

The torrents down its wooded side 

Poured, some unstained, while others dyed [169] 

Gold, ashy, silver, ochre, bore 

The tints of every mountain ore. 

In that sweet time, when all are pleased, 

My arrows and my bow I seized; 

Keen for the chase, in field or grove, 

Down Sarju's bank my car I drove. 

I longed with all my lawless will 

Some elephant by night to kill, 

Some buffalo that came to drink, 

Or tiger, at the river's brink. 

When all around was dark and still, 



335 The southern region is the abode of Yama the Indian Pluto, and of departed 
spirits. 



590 The Ramayana 

I heard a pitcher slowly fill, 
And thought, obscured in deepest shade, 
An elephant the sound had made. 
I drew a shaft that glittered bright, 
Fell as a serpent's venomed bite; 
I longed to lay the monster dead, 
And to the mark my arrow sped. 
Then in the calm of morning, clear 
A hermit's wailing smote my ear: 
"Ah me, ah me," he cried, and sank, 
Pierced by my arrow, on the bank. 
E'en as the weapon smote his side, 
I heard a human voice that cried: 
"Why lights this shaft on one like me, 
A poor and harmless devotee? 
I came by night to fill my jar 
From this lone stream where no men are. 
Ah, who this deadly shaft has shot? 
Whom have I wronged, and knew it not? 
Why should a boy so harmless feel 
The vengeance of the winged steel? 
Or who should slay the guiltless son 
Of hermit sire who injures none, 
Who dwells retired in woods, and there 
Supports his life on woodland fare? 
Ah me, ah me, why am I slain, 
What booty will the murderer gain? 
In hermit coils I bind my hair, 
Coats made of skin and bark I wear. 
Ah, who the cruel deed can praise 
Whose idle toil no fruit repays, 
As impious as the wretch's crime 
Who dares his master's bed to climb? 
Nor does my parting spirit grieve 



Canto LXIII. The Hermit's Son. 591 

But for the life which thus I leave: 

Alas, my mother and my sire, — 

I mourn for them when I expire. 

Ah me, that aged, helpless pair, 

Long cherished by my watchful care, 

How will it be with them this day 

When to the Five 336 I pass away? 

Pierced by the self-same dart we die, 

Mine aged mother, sire, and I. 

Whose mighty hand, whose lawless mind 

Has all the three to death consigned?" 

When I, by love of duty stirred, 
That touching lamentation heard, 
Pierced to the heart by sudden woe, 
I threw to earth my shafts and bow. 
My heart was full of grief and dread 
As swiftly to the place I sped, 
Where, by my arrow wounded sore, 
A hermit lay on Sarju's shore. 
His matted hair was all unbound, 
His pitcher empty on the ground, 
And by the fatal arrow pained, 
He lay with dust and gore distained. 
I stood confounded and amazed: 
His dying eyes to mine he raised, 
And spoke this speech in accents stern, 
As though his light my soul would burn: 
"How have I wronged thee, King, that I 
Struck by thy mortal arrow die? 
The wood my home, this jar I brought, 
And water for my parents sought. 
This one keen shaft that strikes me through 



336 The five elements of which the body consists, and to which it returns. 



592 The Ramayana 

Slays sire and aged mother too. 

Feeble and blind, in helpless pain, 

They wait for me and thirst in vain. 

They with parched lips their pangs must bear, 

And hope will end in blank despair. 

Ah me, there seems no fruit in store 

For holy zeal or Scripture lore, 

Or else ere now my sire would know 

That his dear son is lying low. 

Yet, if my mournful fate he knew, 

What could his arm so feeble do? 

The tree, firm-rooted, ne'er may be 

The guardian of a stricken tree. 

Haste to my father, and relate 

While time allows, my sudden fate, 

Lest he consume thee as the fire 

Burns up the forest, in his ire. 

This little path, O King, pursue: 

My father's cot thou soon wilt view. 

There sue for pardon to the sage, 

Lest he should curse thee in his rage. 

First from the wound extract the dart 

That kills me with its deadly smart, 

E'en as the flushed impetuous tide 

Eats through the river's yielding side." 

I feared to draw the arrow out, 
And pondered thus in painful doubt: 
"Now tortured by the shaft he lies, 
But if I draw it forth he dies." 
Helpless I stood, faint, sorely grieved: 
The hermit's son my thought perceived; 
As one o'ercome by direst pain 
He scarce had strength to speak again. 



Canto LXIV. Dasaratha's Death. 593 

With writhing limb and struggling breath, 

Nearer and ever nearer death 

"My senses undisturbed remain, 

And fortitude has conquered pain: 

Now from one tear thy soul be freed. 

Thy hand has made a Brahman bleed. 

Let not this pang thy bosom wring: 

No twice-born youth am I, O King, [170] 

For of a Vaisya sire I came, 

Who wedded with a Siidra dame." 

These words the boy could scarcely say, 
As tortured by the shaft he lay, 
Twisting his helpless body round, 
Then trembling senseless on the ground. 
Then from his bleeding side I drew 
The rankling shaft that pierced him through. 
With death's last fear my face he eyed, 
And, rich in store of penance, died." 



Canto LXIV. Dasaratha's Death. 



The son of Raghu to his queen 

Thus far described the unequalled scene, 

And, as the hermit's death he rued, 

The mournful story thus renewed: 

"The deed my heedless hand had wrought 

Perplexed me with remorseful thought, 

And all alone I pondered still 

How kindly deed might salve the ill. 

The pitcher from the ground I took, 



594 The Ramayana 

And filled it from that fairest brook, 

Then, by the path the hermit showed, 

I reached his sainted sire's abode. 

I came, I saw: the aged pair, 

Feeble and blind, were sitting there, 

Like birds with clipped wings, side by side, 

With none their helpless steps to guide. 

Their idle hours the twain beguiled 

With talk of their returning child, 

And still the cheering hope enjoyed, 

The hope, alas, by me destroyed. 

Then spoke the sage, as drawing near 

The sound of footsteps reached his ear: 

"Dear son, the water quickly bring; 

Why hast thou made this tarrying? 

Thy mother thirsts, and thou hast played, 

And bathing in the brook delayed. 

She weeps because thou earnest not; 

Haste, O my son, within the cot. 

If she or I have ever done 

A thing to pain thee, dearest son, 

Dismiss the memory from thy mind: 

A hermit thou, be good and kind. 

On thee our lives, our all, depend: 

Thou art thy friendless parents' friend. 

The eyeless couple's eye art thou: 

Then why so cold and silent now?" 

With sobbing voice and bosom wrung 
I scarce could move my faltering tongue, 
And with my spirit filled with dread 
I looked upon the sage, and said, 
While mind, and sense, and nerve I strung 
To fortify my trembling tongue, 



Canto LXIV. Dasaratha's Death. 595 

And let the aged hermit know 
His son's sad fate, my fear and woe: 
"High-minded Saint, not I thy child, 
A warrior, Dasaratha styled. 
I bear a grievous sorrow's weight 
Born of a deed which good men hate. 
My lord, I came to Sarjii's shore, 
And in my hand my bow I bore 
For elephant or beast of chase 
That seeks by night his drinking place. 
There from the stream a sound I heard 
As if a jar the water stirred. 
An elephant, I thought, was nigh: 
I aimed, and let an arrow fly. 
Swift to the place I made my way, 
And there a wounded hermit lay 
Gasping for breath: the deadly dart 
Stood quivering in his youthful heart. 
I hastened near with pain oppressed; 
He faltered out his last behest. 
And quickly, as he bade me do, 
From his pierced side the shaft I drew. 
I drew the arrow from the rent, 
And up to heaven the hermit went, 
Lamenting, as from earth he passed, 
His aged parents to the last. 
Thus, unaware, the deed was done: 
My hand, unwitting, killed thy son. 
For what remains, O, let me win 
Thy pardon for my heedless sin." 

As the sad tale of sin I told 
The hermit's grief was uncontrolled. 
With flooded eyes, and sorrow-faint, 



596 The Ramayana 

Thus spake the venerable saint: 

I stood with hand to hand applied, 

And listened as he spoke and sighed: 

"If thou, O King, hadst left unsaid 

By thine own tongue this tale of dread, 

Thy head for hideous guilt accursed 

Had in a thousand pieces burst. 

A hermit's blood by warrior spilt, 

In such a case, with purposed guilt, 

Down from his high estate would bring 

Even the thunder's mighty King. 

And he a dart who conscious sends 

Against the devotee who spends 

His pure life by the law of Heaven — 

That sinner's head will split in seven. 

Thou livest, for thy heedless hand 

Has wrought a deed thou hast not planned, 

Else thou and all of Raghu's line 

Had perished by this act of thine. 

Now guide us," thus the hermit said, 

"Forth to the spot where he lies dead. 

Guide us, this day, O Monarch, we 

For the last time our son would see: 

The hermit dress of skin he wore 

Rent from his limbs distained with gore; 

His senseless body lying slain, 

His soul in Yama's dark domain." 

Alone the mourning pair I led, 

Their souls with woe disquieted, 

[171] And let the dame and hermit lay 

Their hands upon the breathless clay. 
The father touched his son, and pressed 
The body to his aged breast; 



Canto LXIV. Dasaratha's Death. 597 

Then falling by the dead boy's side, 
He lifted up his voice, and cried: 

"Hast thou no word, my child, to say? 
No greeting for thy sire to-day? 
Why art thou angry, darling? why 
Wilt thou upon the cold earth lie? 
If thou, my son, art wroth with me, 
Here, duteous child, thy mother see. 
What! no embrace for me, my son? 
No word of tender love — not one? 
Whose gentle voice, so soft and clear, 
Soothing my spirit, shall I hear 
When evening comes, with accents sweet 
Scripture or ancient lore repeat? 
Who, having fed the sacred fire, 
And duly bathed, as texts require, 
Will cheer, when evening rites are done, 
The father mourning for his son? 
Who will the daily meal provide 
For the poor wretch who lacks a guide, 
Feeding the helpless with the best 
Berries and roots, like some dear guest? 
How can these hands subsistence find 
For thy poor mother, old and blind? 
The wretched votaress how sustain, 
Who mourns her child in ceaseless pain? 
Stay yet a while, my darling, stay, 
Nor fly to Yama's realm to-day. 
To-morrow I thy sire and she 
Who bare thee, child, will go with, thee. 337 



337 So dying York cries over the body of Suffolk: 

"Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk! 
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven: 



598 The Ramayana 

Then when I look on Yama, I 

To great Vivasvat's son will cry: 

"Hear, King of justice, and restore 

Our child to feed us, I implore. 

Lord of the world, of mighty fame, 

Faithful and just, admit my claim, 

And grant this single boon to free 

My soul from fear, to one like me." 

Because, my son, untouched by stain, 

By sinful hands thou fallest slain, 

Win, through thy truth, the sphere where those 

Who die by hostile darts repose. 

Seek the blest home prepared for all 

The valiant who in battle fall, 

Who face the foe and scorn to yield, 

In glory dying on the field. 

Rise to the heaven where Dhundhumar 

And Nahush, mighty heroes, are, 

Where Janamejay and the blest 

Dihpa, Sagar, Saivya, rest: 

Home of all virtuous spirits, earned 

By fervent rites and Scripture learned: 

By those whose sacred fires have glowed, 

Whose liberal hands have fields bestowed: 

By givers of a thousand cows, 

By lovers of one faithful spouse: 

By those who serve their masters well, 

And cast away this earthly shell. 

None of my race can ever know 

The bitter pain of lasting woe. 

But doomed to that dire fate is he 



Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast.' 
King Henry V, Act IV, 6. 



Canto LXIV. Dasaratha's Death. 599 

Whose guilty hand has slaughtered thee." 

Thus with wild tears the aged saint 
Made many a time his piteous plaint, 
Then with his wife began to shed 
The funeral water for the dead. 
But in a shape celestial clad, 
Won by the merits of the lad, 
The spirit from the body brake 
And to the mourning parents spake: 
"A glorious home in realms above 
Rewards my care and filial love. 
You, honoured parents, soon shall be 
Partakers of that home with me." 

He spake, and swiftly mounting high, 
With Indra near him, to the sky 
On a bright car, with flame that glowed, 
Sublime the duteous hermit rode. 

The father, with his consort's aid, 
The funeral rites with water paid, 
And thus his speech to me renewed 
Who stood in suppliant attitude: 
"Slay me this day, O, slay me, King, 
For death no longer has a sting. 
Childless am I: thy dart has done 
To death my dear, my only son. 
Because the boy I loved so well 
Slain by thy heedless arrow fell, 
My curse upon thy soul shall press 
With bitter woe and heaviness. 
I mourn a slaughtered child, and thou 
Shalt feel the pangs that kill me now. 
Bereft and suffering e'en as I, 



600 The Ramayana 

So shalt thou mourn thy son, and die. 

Thy hand unwitting dealt the blow 

That laid a holy hermit low, 

And distant, therefore, is the time 

When thou shalt suffer for the crime. 

The hour shall come when, crushed by woes 

Like these I feel, thy life shall close: 

A debt to pay in after days 

Like his the priestly fee who pays." 

This curse on me the hermit laid, 
Nor yet his tears and groans were stayed. 
Then on the pyre their bodies cast 
The pair; and straight to heaven they passed. 
As in sad thought I pondered long 
Back to my memory came the wrong 
Done in wild youth, O lady dear, 
[172] When 'twas my boast to shoot by ear. 

The deed has borne the fruit, which now 
Hangs ripe upon the bending bough: 
Thus dainty meats the palate please, 
And lure the weak to swift disease. 
Now on my soul return with dread 
The words that noble hermit said, 
That I for a dear son should grieve, 
And of the woe my life should leave." 

Thus spake the king with many a tear; 
Then to his wife he cried in fear: 
"I cannot see thee, love; but lay 
Thy gentle hand in mine, I pray. 
Ah me, if Rama touched me thus, 
If once, returning home to us, 
He bade me wealth and lordship give, 



Canto LXIV. Dasaratha's Death. 601 

Then, so I think, my soul would live. 

Unlike myself, unjust and mean 

Have been my ways with him, my Queen, 

But like himself is all that he, 

My noble son, has done to me. 

His son, though far from right he stray, 

What prudent sire would cast away? 

What banished son would check his ire, 

Nor speak reproaches of his sire? 

I see thee not: these eyes grow blind, 

And memory quits my troubled mind. 

Angels of Death are round me: they 

Summon my soul with speed away. 

What woe more grievous can there be, 

That, when from light and life I flee, 

I may not, ere I part, behold 

My virtuous Rama, true and bold? 

Grief for my son, the brave and true, 

Whose joy it was my will to do, 

Dries up my breath, as summer dries 

The last drop in the pool that lies. 

Not men, but blessed Gods, are they 

Whose eyes shall see his face that day; 

See him, when fourteen years are past, 

With earrings decked return at last. 

My fainting mind forgets to think: 

Low and more low my spirits sink. 

Each from its seat, my senses steal: 

I cannot hear, or taste, or feel. 

This lethargy of soul o'ercomes 

Each organ, and its function numbs: 

So when the oil begins to fail, 

The torch's rays grow faint and pale. 

This flood of woe caused by this hand 



602 The Ramayana 

Destroys me helpless and unmanned, 

Resistless as the floods that bore 

A passage through the river shore. 

Ah Raghu's son, ah mighty-armed, 

By whom my cares were soothed and charmed, 

My son in whom I took delight, 

Now vanished from thy father's sight! 

Kausalya, ah, I cannot see; 

Sumitra, gentle devotee! 

Alas, Kaikeyi, cruel dame, 

My bitter foe, thy father's shame!" 

Kausalya and Sumitra kept 
Their watch beside him as he wept. 
And Dasaratha moaned and sighed, 
And grieving for his darling died. 



Canto LXV. The Women's Lament. 



And now the night had past away, 
And brightly dawned another day; 
The minstrels, trained to play and sing, 
Flocked to the chamber of the king: 
Bards, who their gayest raiment wore, 
And heralds famed for ancient lore: 
And singers, with their songs of praise, 
Made music in their several ways. 
There as they poured their blessings choice 
And hailed their king with hand and voice, 
Their praises with a swelling roar 
Echoed through court and corridor. 



Canto LXV. The Women's Lament. 603 

Then as the bards his glory sang, 
From beaten palms loud answer rang, 
As glad applauders clapped their hands, 
And told his deeds in distant lands. 
The swelling concert woke a throng 
Of sleeping birds to life and song: 
Some in the branches of the trees, 
Some caged in halls and galleries. 
Nor was the soft string music mute; 
The gentle whisper of the lute, 
And blessings sung by singers skilled 
The palace of the monarch filled. 
Eunuchs and dames of life unstained, 
Each in the arts of waiting trained, 
Drew near attentive as before, 
And crowded to the chamber door: 
These skilful when and how to shed 
The lustral stream o'er limb and head, 
Others with golden ewers stood 
Of water stained with sandal wood. 
And many a maid, pure, young, and fair, 
Her load of early offerings bare, 
Cups of the flood which all revere, 
And sacred things, and toilet gear. 
Each several thing was duly brought 
As rule of old observance taught, 
And lucky signs on each impressed 
Stamped it the fairest and the best. 
There anxious, in their long array, 
All waited till the shine of day: 
But when the king nor rose nor spoke, 
Doubt and alarm within them woke. 
Forthwith the dames, by duty led, 
Attendants on the monarch's bed, 



604 The Ramayana 

Within the royal chamber pressed 
To wake their master from his rest. 
Skilled in the lore of dreaming, they 
First touched the bed on which he lay. 
[173] But none replied; no sound was heard, 

Nor hand, nor head, nor body stirred. 
They trembled, and their dread increased, 
Fearing his breath of life had ceased, 
And bending low their heads, they shook 
Like the tall reeds that fringe the brook. 
In doubt and terror down they knelt, 
Looked on his face, his cold hand felt, 
And then the gloomy truth appeared 
Of all their hearts had darkly feared. 
Kausalya and Sumitra, worn 
With weeping for their sons, forlorn, 
Woke not, but lay in slumber deep 
And still as death's unending sleep. 
Bowed down by grief, her colour fled, 
Her wonted lustre dull and dead, 
Kausalya shone not, like a star 
Obscured behind a cloudy bar. 
Beside the king's her couch was spread, 
And next was Queen Sumitra's bed, 
Who shone no more with beauty's glow, 
Her face bedewed with tears of woe. 
There lapped in sleep each wearied queen, 
There as in sleep, the king was seen; 
And swift the troubling thought came o'er 
Their spirits that he breathed no more. 
At once with wailing loud and high 
The matrons shrieked a bitter cry, 
As widowed elephants bewail 
Their dead lord in the woody vale. 



Canto LXV. The Women's Lament. 605 

At the loud shriek that round them rang, 

Kausalya and Sumitra sprang 

Awakened from their beds, with eyes 

Wide open in their first surprise. 

Quick to the monarch's side they came, 

And saw and touched his lifeless frame; 

One cry, O husband! forth they sent, 

And prostrate to the ground they went. 

The king of Kosal's daughter 338 there 

Writhed, with the dust on limb and hair 

Lustreless, as a star might lie 

Hurled downward from the glorious sky. 

When the king's voice in death was stilled, 

The women who the chamber filled 

Saw, like a widow elephant slain, 

Kausalya prostrate in her pain. 

Then all the monarch's ladies led 

By Queen Kaikeyi at their head, 

Poured forth their tears, and weeping so, 

Sank on the ground, consumed by woe. 

The cry of grief so long and loud 

Went up from all the royal crowd, 

That, doubled by the matron train, 

It made the palace ring again. 

Filled with dark fear and eager eyes, 

Anxiety and wild surmise; 

Echoing with the cries of grief 

Of sorrowing friends who mourned their chief, 

Dejected, pale with deep distress, 

Hurled from their height of happiness: 

Such was the look the palace wore 

Where lay the king who breathed no more. 



338 Kausalya, daughter of the king of another Kosal. 



606 The Ramayana 

Canto LXVI. The Embalming. 

Kausalya's eyes with tears o'erflowed, 
Weighed down by varied sorrows' load; 
On her dead lord her gaze she bent, 
Who lay like fire whose might is spent, 
Like the great deep with waters dry, 
Or like the clouded sun on high. 
Then on her lap she laid his head. 
And on Kaikeyi looked and said: 
"Triumphant now enjoy thy reign 
Without a thorn thy side to pain. 
Thou hast pursued thy single aim, 
And killed the king, O wicked dame. 
Far from my sight my Rama flies, 
My perished lord has sought the skies. 
No friend, no hope my life to cheer, 
I cannot tread the dark path here. 
Who would forsake her husband, who 
That God to whom her love is due, 
And wish to live one hour, but she 
Whose heart no duty owns, like thee? 
The ravenous sees no fault: his greed 
Will e'en on poison blindly feed. 
Kaikeyi, through a hump-back maid, 
This royal house in death has laid. 
King Janak, with his queen, will hear 
Heart rent like me the tidings drear 
Of Rama banished by the king, 
Urged by her impious counselling. 
No son has he, his age is great, 
And sinking with the double weight, 
He for his darling child will pine, 
And pierced with woe his life resign. 



Canto LXVI. The Embalming. 607 

Sprung from Videha's monarch, she 
A sad and lovely devotee, 
Roaming the wood, unmeet for woe, 
Will toil and trouble undergo. 
She in the gloomy night with fear 
The cries of beast and bird will hear, 
And trembling in her wild alarm 
Will cling to Rama's sheltering arm. 
Ah, little knows my duteous son 
That I am widowed and undone — 
My Rama of the lotus eye, 
Gone hence, gone hence, alas, to die. 
Now, as a living wife and true, 
I, e'en this day, will perish too: 
Around his form these arms will throw 
And to the fire with him will go." 

Clasping her husband's lifeless clay 
A while the weeping votaress lay, 

Till chamberlains removed her thence [174] 

O'ercome by sorrow's violence. 
Then in a cask of oil they laid 
Him who in life the world had swayed, 
And finished, as the lords desired, 
All rites for parted souls required. 
The lords, all-wise, refused to burn 
The monarch ere his son's return; 
So for a while the corpse they set 
Embalmed in oil, and waited yet. 
The women heard: no doubt remained, 
And wildly for the king they plained. 
With gushing tears that drowned each eye 
Wildly they waved their arms on high, 
And each her mangling nails impressed 



608 The Ramayana 

Deep in her head and knee and breast: 
"Of Rama reft, — who ever spake 
The sweetest words the heart to take, 
Who firmly to the truth would cling, — 
Why dost thou leave us, mighty King? 
How can the consorts thou hast left 
Widowed, of Raghu's son bereft, 
Live with our foe Kaikeyi near, 
The wicked queen we hate and fear? 
She threw away the king, her spite 
Drove Rama forth and Lakshman's might, 
And gentle Sita: how will she 
Spare any, whosoe'er it be?" 



Oppressed with sorrow, tear-distained, 
The royal women thus complained. 
Like night when not a star appears, 
Like a sad widow drowned in tears, 
Ayodhya's city, dark and dim, 
Reft of her lord was sad for him. 
When thus for woe the king to heaven had fled, 

And still on earth his lovely wives remained. 
With dying light the sun to rest had sped, 

And night triumphant o'er the landscape reigned. 



Canto LXVII. The Praise Of Kings. 



Canto LXVII. The Praise Of Kings. 609 

That night of sorrow passed away, 
And rose again the God of Day. 
Then all the twice-born peers of state 
Together met for high debate. 
Javali, lord of mighty fame. 
And Gautam, and Katyayan came, 
And Markandeya's reverend age, 
And Vamadeva, glorious sage: 
Sprung from Mudgalya's seed the one, 
The other ancient Kasyap's son. 
With lesser lords these Brahmans each 
Spoke in his turn his several speech, 
And turning to Vasishtha, best 
Of household priests him thus addressed: 
"The night of bitter woe has past, 
Which seemed a hundred years to last, 
Our king, in sorrow for his son, 
Reunion with the Five has won. 
His soul is where the blessed are, 
While Rama roams in woods afar, 
And Lakshman, bright in glorious deeds, 
Goes where his well-loved brother leads. 
And Bharat and Satrughna, they 
Who smite their foes in battle fray, 
Far in the realm of Kekaya stay, 
Where their maternal grandsire's care 
Keeps Rajagriha's city fair. 
Let one of old Ikshvaku's race 
Obtain this day the sovereign's place, 
Or havoc and destruction straight 
Our kingless land will devastate. 
In kingless lands no thunder's voice, 
No lightning wreaths the heart rejoice, 
Nor does Parjanya's heavenly rain 



610 The Ramayana 

Descend upon the burning plain. 

Where none is king, the sower's hand 

Casts not the seed upon the land; 

The son against the father strives. 

And husbands fail to rule their wives. 

In kingless realms no princes call 

Their friends to meet in crowded hall; 

No joyful citizens resort 

To garden trim or sacred court. 

In kingless realms no Twice-born care 

To sacrifice with text and prayer, 

Nor Brahmans, who their vows maintain, 

The great solemnities ordain. 

The joys of happier days have ceased: 

No gathering, festival, or feast 

Together calls the merry throng 

Delighted with the play and song. 

In kingless lands it ne'er is well 

With sons of trade who buy and sell: 

No men who pleasant tales repeat 

Delight the crowd with stories sweet. 

In kingless realms we ne'er behold 

Young maidens decked with gems and gold, 

Flock to the gardens blithe and gay 

To spend their evening hours in play. 

No lover in the flying car 

Rides with his love to woods afar. 

In kingless lands no wealthy swain 

Who keeps the herd and reaps the grain, 

Lies sleeping, blest with ample store, 

Securely near his open door. 

Upon the royal roads we see 

No tusked elephant roaming free, 

Of three-score years, whose head and neck 



Canto LXVII. The Praise Of Kings. 611 

Sweet tinkling bells of silver deck. 

We hear no more the glad applause 

When his strong bow each rival draws, 

No clap of hands, no eager cries 

That cheer each martial exercise. 

In kingless realms no merchant bands 

Who travel forth to distant lands, 

With precious wares their wagons load, [175] 

And fear no danger on the road. 

No sage secure in self-control, 

Brooding on God with mind and soul, 

In lonely wanderings finds his home 

Where'er at eve his feet may roam. 

In kingless realms no man is sure 

He holds his life and wealth secure. 

In kingless lands no warriors smite 

The foeman's host in glorious fight. 

In kingless lands the wise no more, 

Well trained in Scripture's holy lore, 

In shady groves and gardens meet 

To argue in their calm retreat. 

No longer, in religious fear, 

Do they who pious vows revere, 

Bring dainty cates and wreaths of flowers 

As offerings to the heavenly powers. 

No longer, bright as trees in spring, 

Shine forth the children of the king 

Resplendent in the people's eyes 

With aloe wood and sandal dyes. 

A brook where water once has been, 

A grove where grass no more is green, 

Kine with no herdsman's guiding hand — 

So wretched is a kingless land. 

The car its waving banner rears, 



612 The Ramayana 

Banner of fire the smoke appears: 
Our king, the banner of our pride, 
A God with Gods is glorified. 
In kingless lands no law is known, 
And none may call his wealth his own, 
Each preys on each from hour to hour, 
As fish the weaker fish devour. 
Then fearless, atheists overleap 
The bounds of right the godly keep, 
And when no royal powers restrain, 
Preeminence and lordship gain. 
As in the frame of man the eye 
Keeps watch and ward, a careful spy, 
The monarch in his wide domains 
Protects the truth, the right maintains. 
He is the right, the truth is he, 
Their hopes in him the well-born see. 
On him his people's lives depend, 
Mother is he, and sire, and friend. 
The world were veiled in blinding night, 
And none could see or know aright, 
Ruled there no king in any state 
The good and ill to separate. 
We will obey thy word and will 
As if our king were living still: 
As keeps his bounds the faithful sea, 
So we observe thy high decree. 
O best of Brahmans, first in place, 

Our kingless land lies desolate: 
Some scion of Ikshvaku's race 

Do thou as monarch consecrate." 



Canto LXVIII. The Envoys. 613 

Canto LXVIII. The Envoys. 



Vasishtha heard their speech and prayer, 
And thus addressed the concourse there, 
Friends, Brahmans, counsellors, and all 
Assembled in the palace hall: 
"Ye know that Bharat, free from care, 
Still lives in Rajagriha 339 where 
The father of his mother reigns: 
Satrughna by his side remains. 
Let active envoys, good at need, 
Thither on fleetest horses speed, 
To bring the hero youths away: 
Why waste the time in dull delay?" 

Quick came from all the glad reply: 
"Vasishtha, let the envoys fly!" 
He heard their speech, and thus renewed 
His charge before the multitude: 
"Nandan, Asok, Siddharth, attend, 
Your ears, Jayanta, Vijay, lend: 
Be yours, what need requires, to do: 
I speak these words to all of you. 
With coursers of the fleetest breed 
To Rajagriha's city speed. 
Then rid your bosoms of distress, 
And Bharat thus from me address: 
"The household priest and peers by us 
Send health to thee and greet thee thus: 
Come to thy father's home with haste: 
Thine absent time no longer waste." 



339 Rajagriha, or Girivraja was the capital of Asvapati, Bharat's maternal 
grandfather. 



614 The Ramayana 

But speak no word of Rama fled, 
Tell not the prince his sire is dead, 
Nor to the royal youth the fate 
That ruins Raghu's race relate. 
Go quickly hence, and with you bear 
Fine silken vestures rich and rare, 
And gems and many a precious thing 
As gifts to Bharat and the king." 



With ample stores of food supplied, 
Each to his home the envoys hied, 
Prepared, with steeds of swiftest race, 
To Kekaya's land 340 their way to trace. 
They made all due provision there, 
And every need arranged with care, 
Then ordered by Vasishtha, they 
Went forth with speed upon their way. 
Then northward of Pralamba, west 
Of Apartala, on they pressed, 
Crossing the Malini that flowed 
With gentle stream athwart the road. 
[176] They traversed Ganga's holy waves 

Where she Hastinapura 341 laves, 
Thence to Panchala 342 westward fast 
Through Kurujangal's land 343 Note. 



340 The Kekayas or Kaikayas in the Punjab appear amongst the chief nations 
in the war of the Mahabharata; their king being a kinsman of Krishna. 

341 Hastinapura was the capital of the kingdom of Kuru, near the modern Delhi. 

342 The Panchalas occupied the upper part of the Doab. 

343 "Kurujangala and its inhabitants are frequently mentioned in the 
Mahabharata, as in the Adi-parv. 3789, 4337, et al." WILSON'SJFNS Vishnu 
Purdna, Vol. II. p. 176. DR. HALL'S{FNS 



Canto LXVIII. The Envoys. 615 

they passed. 

On, on their course the envoys held 

By urgency of task impelled. 

Quick glancing at each lucid flood 

And sweet lake gay with flower and bud. 

Beyond, they passed unwearied o'er, 

Where glad birds fill the flood and shore 

Of Saradanda racing fleet 

With heavenly water clear and sweet, 

Thereby a tree celestial grows 

Which every boon on prayer bestows: 

To its blest shade they humbly bent, 

Then to Kulinga's town they went. 

Then, having passed the Warrior's Wood, 

In Abhikala next they stood, 

O'er sacred Ikshumati 344 Edition. The Ikshumati was a river in 

Kurukshetra. 
came, 

Their ancient kings' ancestral claim. 
They saw the learned Brahmans stand, 
Each drinking from his hollowed hand, 
And through Bahfka 345 journeying still 
They reached at length Sudaman's hill: 
There Vishnu's footstep turned to see, 
Vipasa 346 viewed, and Salmah, 
And many a lake and river met, 
Tank, pool, and pond, and rivulet. 



344 "The 'O^uijcmc, of Arrian. See As. Res. Vol. XV. p. 420, 421, also 
Indische Alterthumskunde, Vol. I. p. 602, first footnote." WILSON'SJFNS 
Vishnu Purdna, Vol. I. p. 421. DR. HALL'SJFNS 

345 "jjjg Bahikas are described in the Mahabharata, Kama Parvan, with some 
detail, and comprehend the different nations of the Punjab from the Sutlej to 
the Indus." WILSON'SJFNS Vishnu Purdna, Vol. I. p. 167. 

346 The Beas, Hyphasis, or Bibasis. 



616 The Ramayana 

And lions saw, and tigers near, 

And elephants and herds of deer, 

And still, by prompt obedience led, 

Along the ample road they sped. 

Then when their course so swift and long, 

Had worn their steeds though fleet and strong, 

To Girivraja's splendid town 

They came by night, and lighted down. 

To please their master, and to guard 

The royal race, the lineal right, 
The envoys, spent with riding hard, 

To that fair city came by night. 347 



347 It would be lost labour to attempt to verify all the towns and streams 
mentioned in Cantos LXVIII and LXXII. Professor Wilson observes (Vishnu 
Purdna, p. 139. Dr. Hall's Edition) "States, and tribes, and cities have disap- 
peared, even from recollection; and some of the natural features of the country, 
especially the rivers, have undergone a total alteration.... Notwithstanding 
these impediments, however, we should be able to identify at least mountains 
and rivers, to a much greater extent than is now practicable, if our maps were 
not so miserably defective in their nomenclature. None of our surveyors or 
geographers have been oriental scholars. It may be doubted if any of them 
have been conversant with the spoken language of the country. They have, 
consequently, put down names at random, according to their own inaccurate 
appreciation of sounds carelessly, vulgarly, and corruptly uttered; and their 
maps of India are crowded with appellations which bear no similitude whatever 
either to past or present denominations. We need not wonder that we cannot 
discover Sanskrit names in English maps, when, in the immediate vicinity of 
Calcutta, Barnagore represents Barahanagar, Dakshineswar is metamorphosed 
into Duckinsore, Ulubarfa into Willoughbury.... There is scarcely a name in 
our Indian maps that does not afford proof of extreme indifference to accuracy 
in nomenclature, and of an incorrectness in estimating sounds, which is, in 
some degree, perhaps, a national defect." 

For further information regarding the road from Ayodhya to Rajagriha, see 



Canto LXIX. Bharat's Dream. 617 

Canto LXIX. Bharat's Dream. 



The night those messengers of state 

Had past within the city's gate, 

In dreams the slumbering Bharat saw 

A sight that chilled his soul with awe. 

The dream that dire events foretold 

Left Bharat's heart with horror cold, [177] 

And with consuming woes distraught, 

Upon his aged sire he thought. 

His dear companions, swift to trace 

The signs of anguish on his face, 

Drew near, his sorrow to expel, 

And pleasant tales began to tell. 

Some woke sweet music's cheering sound, 

And others danced in lively round. 

With joke and jest they strove to raise 

His spirits, quoting ancient plays; 

But Bharat still, the lofty-souled, 

Deaf to sweet tales his fellows told, 

Unmoved by music, dance, and jest, 

Sat silent, by his woe oppressed. 

To him, begirt by comrades near, 

Thus spoke the friend he held most dear: 

"Why ringed around by friends, art thou 

So silent and so mournful now?" 

"Hear thou," thus Bharat made reply, 

"What chills my heart and dims mine eye. 

I dreamt I saw the king my sire 

Sink headlong in a lake of mire 

Down from a mountain high in air, 

His body soiled, and loose his hair. 



Additional Notes. 



618 The Ramayana 

Upon the miry lake he seemed 

To lie and welter, as I dreamed; 

With hollowed hands full many a draught 

Of oil he took, and loudly laughed. 

With head cast down I saw him make 

A meal on sesamum and cake; 

The oil from every member dripped, 

And in its clammy flood he dipped. 

The ocean's bed was bare and dry, 

The moon had fallen from the sky, 

And all the world lay still and dead, 

With whelming darkness overspread. 

The earth was rent and opened wide, 

The leafy trees were scorched, and died; 

I saw the seated mountains split, 

And wreaths of rising smoke emit. 

The stately beast the monarch rode 

His long tusks rent and splintered showed; 

And flames that quenched and cold had lain 

Blazed forth with kindled light again. 

I looked, and many a handsome dame, 

Arrayed in brown and sable came 

And bore about the monarch, dressed, 

On iron stool, in sable vest. 

And then the king, of virtuous mind, 

A blood-red wreath around him twined, 

Forth on an ass-drawn chariot sped, 

As southward still he bent his head. 

Then, crimson-clad, a dame appeared 

Who at the monarch laughed and jeered; 

And a she-monster, dire to view, 

Her hand upon his body threw. 

Such is the dream I dreamt by night, 

Which chills me yet with wild affright: 



Canto LXX. Bharat's Departure. 619 

Either the king or Rama, I 

Or Lakshman now must surely die. 

For when an ass-drawn chariot seems 

To bear away a man in dreams, 

Be sure above his funeral pyre 

The smoke soon rears its cloudy spire. 

This makes my spirit low and weak, 

My tongue is slow and loth to speak: 

My lips and throat are dry for dread, 

And all my soul disquieted. 

My lips, relaxed, can hardly speak, 

And chilling dread has changed my cheek 

I blame myself in aimless fears, 

And still no cause of blame appears. 

I dwell upon this dream of ill 

Whose changing scenes I viewed, 
And on the startling horror still 

My troubled thoughts will brood. 
Still to my soul these terrors cling, 

Reluctant to depart, 
And the strange vision of the king 

Still weighs upon my heart." 



Canto LXX. Bharat's Departure. 

While thus he spoke, the envoys borne 
On horses faint and travel-worn 
Had gained the city fenced around 
With a deep moat's protecting bound. 
An audience of the king they gained, 
And honours from the prince obtained; 



620 The Ramayana 

The monarch's feet they humbly pressed, 
To Bharat next these words addressed: 
"The household priest and peers by us 
Send health to thee and greet thee thus: 
"Come to thy father's house with haste: 
Thine absent time no longer waste." 
Receive these vestures rich and rare, 
These costly gems and jewels fair, 
And to thy uncle here present 
Each precious robe and ornament. 
These for the king and him suffice — 
Two hundred millions is their price — 
These, worth a hundred millions, be 
Reserved, O large-eyed Prince, for thee." 

Loving his friends with heart and soul, 
The joyful prince received the whole, 
Due honour to the envoys paid, 
And thus in turn his answer made: 
"Of Dasaratha tidings tell: 
Is the old king my father well? 
Is Rama, and is Lakshman, he 
Of the high-soul, from sickness free? 
And she who walks where duty leads, 
Kausalya, known for gracious deeds, 
Mother of Rama, loving spouse, 
Bound to her lord by well kept vows? 
And Lakshman's mother too, the dame 
Sumitra skilled in duty's claim, 
Who brave Satrughna also bare, 
[178] Second in age, — her health declare. 

And she, in self-conceit most sage, 
With selfish heart most prone to rage, 
My mother, fares she well? has she 



Canto LXX. Bharat's Departure. 621 

Sent message or command to me?" 

Thus Bharat spake, the mighty-souled, 
And they in brief their tidings told: 
"All they of whom thou askest dwell, 
O lion lord, secure and well: 
Thine all the smiles of fortune are: 
Make ready; let them yoke the car." 

Thus by the royal envoys pressed, 
Bharat again the band addressed: 
"I go with you: no long delay, 
A single hour I bid you stay." 
Thus Bharat, son of him who swayed 
Ayodhyas realm, his answer made, 
And then bespoke, his heart to please, 
His mother's sire in words like these: 
"I go to see my father, King, 
Urged by the envoys' summoning; 
And when thy soul desires to see 
Thy grandson, will return to thee." 

The king his grandsire kissed his head, 
And in reply to Bharat said: 
"Go forth, dear child: how blest is she, 
The mother of a son like thee! 
Greet well thy sire, thy mother greet, 
O thou whose arms the foe defeat; 
The household priest, and all the rest 
Amid the Twice-born chief and best; 
And Rama and brave Lakshman, who 
Shoot the long shaft with aim so true." 



622 The Ramayana 

To him the king high honour showed, 
And store of wealth and gifts bestowed, 
The choicest elephants to ride, 
And skins and blankets deftly dyed, 
A thousand strings of golden beads, 
And sixteen hundred mettled steeds: 
And boundless wealth before him piled 
Gave Kekaya to Kaikeyi's child. 
And men of counsel, good and tried, 
On whose firm truth he aye relied, 
King Asvapati gave with speed 
Prince Bharat on his way to lead. 
And noble elephants, strong and young, 
From sires of Indrasira sprung, 
And others tall and fair to view 
Of great Airavat's lineage true: 
And well yoked asses fleet of limb 
The prince his uncle gave to him. 
And dogs within the palace bred, 
Of body vast and massive head, 
With mighty fangs for battle, brave, 
The tiger's match in strength, he gave. 
Yet Bharat's bosom hardly glowed 
To see the wealth the king bestowed; 
For he would speed that hour away, 
Such care upon his bosom lay: 
Those eager envoys urged him thence, 
And that sad vision's influence. 
He left his court-yard, crowded then 
With elephants and steeds and men, 
And, peerless in immortal fame, 
To the great royal street he came. 
He saw, as farther still he went, 
The inner rooms most excellent, 



Canto LXXI. Bharat's Return. 623 

And passed the doors, to him unclosed, 

Where check nor bar his way oppossd. 

There Bharat stayed to bid adieu 

To grandsire and to uncle too, 

Then, with Satrughna by his side, 

Mounting his car, away he hied. 

The strong-wheeled cars were yoked, and they 

More than a hundred, rolled away: 

Servants, with horses, asses, kine, 

Followed their lord in endless line. 

So, guarded by his own right hand, 

Forth high-souled Bharat hied, 
Surrounded by a lordly band 

On whom the king relied. 
Beside him sat Satrughna dear, 

The scourge of trembling foes: 
Thus from the light of Indra's sphere 

A saint made perfect goes. 



Canto LXXI. Bharat's Return. 

Then Bharat's face was eastward bent 
As from the royal town he went. 
He reached Sudama's farther side, 
And glorious, gazed upon the tide; 
Passed Hladini, and saw her toss 
Her westering billows hard to cross. 
Then old Ikshvaku's famous son 
O'er Satadrii 348 his passage won, 



348 "-pjjg satadrii, 'the hundred-channeled' — the Zaradrus of Ptolemy, Hesydrus 
of Pliny— is the Sutlej." WILSON'SJFNS Vishnu Parana, Vol. II. p. 130. 



624 The Ramayana 

Near Ailadhana on the strand, 
And came to Aparparyat's land. 
O'er Sila's flood he hurried fast, 
Akurvati's fair stream he passed, 
Crossed o'er Agneya's rapid rill, 
And Salyakartan onward still. 
Silavaha's swift stream he eyed, 
True to his vows and purified, 
Then crossed the lofty hills, and stood 
In Chaitraratha's mighty wood. 
He reached the confluence where meet 
Sarasvati 349 and Ganga fleet, 
And through Bharunda forest, spread 
Northward of Viramatsya, sped. 
[179] He sought Kalinda's child, who fills 

The soul with joy, begirt by hills, 
Reached Yamuna, and passing o'er, 
Rested his army on the shore: 
He gave his horses food and rest, 
Bathed reeking limb and drooping crest. 
They drank their fill and bathed them there, 
And water for their journey bare. 
Thence through a mighty wood he sped 
All wild and uninhabited, 
As in fair chariot through the skies, 
Most fair in shape a Storm-God flies. 
At Ansudhana Ganga, hard 
To cross, his onward journey barred, 
So turning quickly thence he came 
To Pragvat's city dear to fame. 
There having gained the farther side 
To Kutikoshtika he hied: 



349 The Sarasvati or Sursooty is a tributary of the Caggar or Guggur in Sirhind. 



Canto LXXI. Bharat's Return. 625 

The stream he crossed, and onward then 
To Dharmavardhan brought his men. 
Thence, leaving Toran on the north, 
To Jambuprastha journeyed forth. 
Then onward to a pleasant grove 
By fair Variifha's town he drove, 
And when a while he there had stayed, 
Went eastward from the friendly shade. 
Eastward of Ujjihana where 
The Priyak trees are tall and fair, 
He passed, and rested there each steed 
Exhausted with the journey's speed. 
There orders to his men addressed, 
With quickened pace he onward pressed, 
A while at Sarvatirtha spent, 
Then o'er Uttanika he went. 
O'er many a stream beside he sped 
With coursers on the mountains bred, 
And passing Hastiprishthak, took 
The road o'er Kutika's fair brook. 
Then, at Lohitya's village, he 
Crossed o'er the swift Kapivati, 
Then passed, where Ekasala stands, 
The Sthanumati's flood and sands, 
And Gomati of fair renown 
By Vinata's delightful town. 
When to Kalinga near he drew, 
A wood of Sal trees charmed the view; 
That passed, the sun began to rise, 
And Bharat saw with happy eyes, 
Ayodhya's city, built and planned 
By ancient Manu's royal hand. 
Seven nights upon the road had passed, 
And when he saw the town at last 



626 The Ramayana 

Before him in her beauty spread, 

Thus Bharat to the driver said: 

"This glorious city from afar, 

Wherein pure groves and gardens are, 

Seems to my eager eyes to-day 

A lifeless pile of yellow clay. 

Through all her streets where erst a throng 

Of men and women streamed along, 

Uprose the multitudinous roar: 

To-day I hear that sound no more. 

No longer do mine eyes behold 

The leading people, as of old, 

On elephants, cars, horses, go 

Abroad and homeward, to and fro. 

The brilliant gardens, where we heard 

The wild note of each rapturous bird, 

Where men and women loved to meet, 

In pleasant shades, for pastime sweet, — 

These to my eyes this day appear 

Joyless, and desolate, and drear: 

Each tree that graced the garden grieves, 

And every path is spread with leaves. 

The merry cry of bird and beast, 

That spake aloud their joy, has ceased: 

Still is the long melodious note 

That charmed us from each warbling throat. 

Why blows the blessed air no more, 

The incense-breathing air that bore 

Its sweet incomparable scent 

Of sandal and of aloe blent? 

Why are the drum and tabour mute? 

Why is the music of the lute 

That woke responsive to the quill, 

Loved by the happy, hushed and still? 



Canto LXXI. Bharat's Return. 627 

My boding spirit gathers hence 
Dire sins of awful consequence, 
And omens, crowding on my sight, 
Weigh down my soul with wild affright. 
Scarce shall I find my friends who dwell 
Here in Ayodhya safe and well: 
For surely not without a cause 
This crushing dread my soul o'erawes." 

Heart sick, dejected, every sense 
Confused by terror's influence, 
On to the town he quickly swept 
Which King Ikshvaku's children kept. 
He passed through Vaijayanta's gate, 
With weary steeds, disconsolate, 
And all who near their station held, 
His escort, crying Victory, swelled, 
With heart distracted still he bowed 
Farewell to all the following crowd, 
Turned to the driver and began 
To question thus the weary man: 
"Why was I brought, O free from blame, 
So fast, unknown for what I came? 
Yet fear of ill my heart appals, 
And all my wonted courage falls. 
For I have heard in days gone by 
The changes seen when monarchs die; 
And all those signs, O charioteer, 
I see to-day surround me here: 
Each kinsman's house looks dark and grim, 
No hand delights to keep it trim: 
The beauty vanished, and the pride, 
The doors, unkept, stand open wide. 
No morning rites are offered there, 



628 The Ramayana 

No grateful incense loads the air, 
And all therein, with brows o'ercast, 
Sit joyless on the ground and fast. 
[180] Their lovely chaplets dry and dead, 

Their courts unswept, with dust o'erspread, 
The temples of the Gods to-day 
No more look beautiful and gay. 
Neglected stands each holy shrine, 
Each image of a Lord divine. 
No shop where flowery wreaths are sold 
Is bright and busy as of old. 
The women and the men I mark 
Absorbed in fancies dull and dark, 
Their gloomy eyes with tears bedewed, 
A poor afflicted multitude." 

His mind oppressed with woe and dread, 
Thus Bharat to his driver said, 
Viewed the dire signs Ayodhya showed, 
And onward to the palace rode. 



Canto LXXII. Bharat's Inquiry. 



He entered in, he looked around, 
Nor in the house his father found; 
Then to his mother's dwelling, bent 
To see her face, he quickly went. 
She saw her son, so long away, 
Returning after many a day, 
And from her golden seat in joy 
Sprung forward to her darling boy. 



Canto LXXII. Bharat's Inquiry. 629 

Within the bower, no longer bright, 
Came Bharat lover of the right, 
And bending with observance sweet 
Clasped his dear mother's lovely feet. 
Long kisses on his brow she pressed, 
And held her hero to her breast, 
Then fondly drew him to her knees, 
And questioned him in words like these: 
"How many nights have fled, since thou 
Leftest thy grandsire's home, till now? 
By flying steeds so swiftly borne, 
Art thou not weak and travel-worn? 
How fares the king my father, tell: 
Is Yudhajit thine uncle well? 
And now, my son, at length declare 
The pleasure of the visit there." 

Thus to the offspring of the king 
She spake with tender questioning, 
And to his mother made reply 
Young Bharat of the lotus eye: 
"The seventh night has come and fled 
Since from my grandsire's home I sped: 
My mother's sire is well, and he, 
Yudhajit, from all trouble free. 
The gold and every precious thing 
Presented by the conqueror king, 
The slower guards behind convey: 
I left them weary on the way. 
Urged by the men my father sent, 
My hasty course I hither bent: 
Now, I implore, an answer deign, 
And all I wish to know, explain. 
Unoccupied I now behold 



630 The Ramayana 

This couch of thine adorned with gold, 
And each of King Ikshvaku's race 
Appears with dark and gloomy face. 
The king is aye, my mother dear, 
Most constant in his visits here. 
To meet my sire I sought this spot: 
How is it that I find him not? 
I long to clasp my father's feet: 
Say where he lingers, I entreat. 
Perchance the monarch may be seen 
Where dwells Kausalya, eldest queen." 

His father's fate, from him concealed, 
Kaikeyi to her son revealed: 
Told as glad news the story sad, 
For lust of sway had made her mad: 
"Thy father, O my darling, know, 
Has gone the way all life must go: 
Devout and famed, of lofty thought, 
In whom the good their refuge sought." 

When Bharat pious, pure, and true, 
Heard the sad words which pierced him through, 
Grieved for the sire he loved so well 
Prostrate upon the ground he fell: 
Down fell the strong-armed hero, high 
Tossing his arms, and a sad cry, 
"Ah, woe is me, unhappy, slain!" 
Burst from his lips again, again, 
Afflicted for his father's fate 
By griefs intolerable weight, 
With every sense amazed and cowed 
The splendid hero wailed aloud: 
"Ah me, my royal father's bed 



Canto LXXII. Bharat's Inquiry. 63 1 

Of old a gentle radiance shed, 

Like the pure sky when clouds are past, 

And the moon's light is o'er it cast: 

Ah, of its wisest lord bereft, 

It shows to-day faint radiance left, 

As when the moon has left the sky. 

Or mighty Ocean's depths are dry." 



With choking sobs, with many a tear, 
Pierced to the heart with grief sincere, 
The best of conquerors poured his sighs, 
And with his robe veiled face and eyes. 
Kaikeyi saw him fallen there, 
Godlike, afflicted, in despair, 
Used every art to move him thence, 
And tried him thus with eloquence: 
"Arise, arise, my dearest; why 
Wilt thou, famed Prince, so lowly lie? 
Not by such grief as this are moved 
Good men like thee, by all approved. 
The earth thy father nobly swayed, 
And rites to Heaven he duly paid. 
At length his race of life was run: 
Thou shouldst not mourn for him, my son." 



Long on the ground he wept, and rolled 
From side to side, still unconsoled, 
And then, with bitter grief oppressed, 
His mother with these words addressed: [181] 



632 The Ramayana 

"This joyful hope my bosom fed 
When from my grandsire's halls I sped — 
"The king will throne his eldest son, 
And sacrifice, as should be done." 
But all is changed, my hope was vain, 
And this sad heart is rent in twain, 
For my dear father's face I miss, 
Who ever sought his loved ones' bliss. 
But in my absence, mother, say, 
What sickness took my sire away? 
Ah, happy Rama, happy they 
Allowed his funeral rites to pay ! 
The glorious monarch has not learned 
That I his darling have returned, 
Or quickly had he hither sped, 
And pressed his kisses on my head. 
Where is that hand whose gentle touch, 
Most soft and kind I loved so much, 
The hand that loved to brush away 
The dust that on his darling lay? 
Quick, bear the news to Rama's ear; 
Tell the great chief that I am here: 
Brother, and sire, and friend, and all 
Is he, and I his trusty thrall. 
For noble hearts, to virtue true, 
Their sires in elder brothers view. 
To clasp his feet I fain would bow: 
He is my hope and refuge now. 
What said my glorious sire, who knew 
Virtue and vice, so brave and true? 
Firm in his vows, dear lady, say, 
What said he ere he passed away? 
What was his rede to me? I crave 
To hear the last advice he gave." 



Canto LXXII. Bharat's Inquiry. 633 

Thus closely questioned by the youth, 
Kaikeyi spoke the mournful truth: 
"The high-souled monarch wept and sighed, 
For Rama, Sita, Lakshman, cried, 
Then, best of all who go to bliss, 
Passed to the world which follows this. 
"Ah, blessed are the people who 
Shall Rama and his Sita view, 
And Lakshman of the mighty arm, 
Returning free from scathe and harm." 
Such were the words, the last of all, 
Thy father, ere he died, let fall, 
By Fate and Death's dread coils enwound, 
As some great elephant is bound." 

He heard, yet deeper in despair, 
Her lips this double woe declare, 
And with sad brow that showed his pain 
Questioned his mother thus again: 
"But where is he, of virtue tried, 
Who fills Kausalya's heart with pride, 
Where is the noble Rama? where 
Is Lakshman brave, and Sita fair?" 



Thus pressed, the queen began to tell 
The story as each thing befell, 
And gave her son in words like these, 
The mournful news she meant to please: 
"The prince is gone in hermit dress 
To Dandak's mighty wilderness, 
And Lakshman brave and Sita share 
The wanderings of the exile there." 



634 The Ramayana 

Then Bharat's soul with fear was stirred 
Lest Rama from the right had erred, 
And jealous for ancestral fame, 
He put this question to the dame: 
"Has Rama grasped with lawless hold 
A Brahman's house, or land, or gold? 
Has Rama harmed with ill intent 
Some poor or wealthy innocent? 
Was Rama, faithless to his vows, 
Enamoured of anothers spouse? 
Why was he sent to Dandak's wild, 
Like one who kills an unborn child?" 

He questioned thus: and she began 
To tell her deeds and crafty plan. 
Deceitful-hearted, fond, and blind 
As is the way of womankind: 
"No Brahman's wealth has Rama seized, 
No dame his wandering fancy pleased; 
His very eyes he ne'er allows 
To gaze upon a neighbour's spouse. 
But when I heard the monarch planned 
To give the realm to Rama's hand, 
I prayed that Rama hence might flee, 
And claimed the throne, my son, for thee. 
The king maintained the name he bare, 
And did according to my prayer, 
And Rama, with his brother, sent, 
And Sita, forth to banishment. 
When his dear son was seen no more, 
The lord of earth was troubled sore: 
Too feeble with his grief to strive, 
He joined the elemental Five. 
Up then, most dutiful! maintain 



Canto LXXIII. Kaikeyi Reproached. 635 

The royal state, arise, and reign. 

For thee, my darling son, for thee 

All this was planned and wrought by me. 

Come, cast thy grief and pain aside, 

With manly courage fortified. 

This town and realm are all thine own, 

And fear and grief are here unknown. 

Come, with Vasishtha's guiding aid, 

And priests in ritual skilled 
Let the king's funeral dues be paid, 

And every claim fulfilled. 
Perform his obsequies with all 

That suits his rank and worth, 
Then give the mandate to install 

Thyself as lord of earth." 



Canto LXXIII. Kaikeyi Reproached. 



But when he heard the queen relate 

His brothers' doom, his father's fate, 

Thus Bharat to his mother said 

With burning grief disquieted: [182] 

"Alas, what boots it now to reign, 

Struck down by grief and well-nigh slain? 

Ah, both are gone, my sire, and he 

Who was a second sire to me. 

Grief upon grief thy hand has made, 

And salt upon gashes laid: 

For my dear sire has died through thee, 

And Rama roams a devotee. 

Thou earnest like the night of Fate 



636 The Ramayana 

This royal house to devastate. 
Unwitting ill, my hapless sire 
Placed in his bosom coals of fire, 
And through thy crimes his death he met, 
O thou whose heart on sin is set. 
Shame of thy house! thy senseless deed 
Has reft all joy from Raghu's seed. 
The truthful monarch, dear to fame, 
Received thee as his wedded dame, 
And by thy act to misery doomed 
Has died by flames of grief consumed. 
Kausalya and Sumitra too 
The coming of my mother rue, 
And if they live oppressed by woe, 
For their dear sons their sad tears flow. 
Was he not ever good and kind, — 
That hero of the duteous mind? 
Skilled in all filial duties, he 
As a dear mother treated thee. 
Kausalya too, the eldest queen, 
Who far foresees with insight keen, 
Did she not ever show thee all 
A sister's love at duty's call? 
And hast thou from the kingdom chased 
Her son, with bark around his waist, 
To the wild wood, to dwell therein, 
And dost not sorrow for thy sin? 
The love I bare to Raghu's son 
Thou knewest not, ambitious one, 
If thou hast wrought this impious deed 
For royal sway, in lawless greed. 
With him and Lakshman far away, 
What power have I the realm to sway? 
What hope will fire my bosom when 



Canto LXXIII. Kaikeyi Reproached. 637 

I see no more these lords of men? 

The holy king, who loved the right 

Relied on Rama's power and might, 

His guardian and his glory, so 

Joys Meru in his woods below. 

How can I bear, a steer untrained, 

The load his mightier strength sustained? 

What power have I to brook alone 

This weight on feeble shoulders thrown? 

But if the needful power were bought 

By strength of mind and brooding thought, 

No triumph shall attend the dame 

Who dooms her son to lasting shame. 

Now should no doubt that son prevent 

From quitting thee on evil bent. 

But Rama's love o'erpowers my will, 

Who holds thee as his mother still. 

Whence did the thought, O thou whose eyes 

Are turned to sinful deeds, arise — 

A plan our ancient sires would hate, 

O fallen from thy virtuous state? 

For in the line from which we spring 

The eldest is anointed king: 

No monarchs from the rule decline, 

And, least of all, Ikshvaku's line. 

Our holy sires, to virtue true, 

Upon our race a lustre threw, 

But with subversive frenzy thou 

Hast marred our lineal honour now, 

Of lofty birth, a noble line 

Of previous kings is also thine: 

Then whence this hated folly? whence 

This sudden change that steals thy sense? 

Thou shalt not gain thine impious will, 



638 The Ramayana 

O thou whose thoughts are bent on ill, 
Thou from whose guilty hand descend 
These sinful blows my life to end. 
Now to the forest will I go, 
Thy cherished plans to overthrow, 
And bring my brother, free from stain, 
His people's darling, home again. 
And Rama, when again he turns, 
Whose glory like a beacon burns, 
In me a faithful slave shall find 
To serve him with contented mind." 



Canto LXXIV. Bharat's Lament. 



When Bharat's anger-sharpened tongue 
Reproaches on the queen had flung, 
Again, with mighty rage possessed, 
The guilty dame he thus addressed: 
"Flee, cruel, wicked sinner, flee, 
Let not this kingdom harbour thee. 
Thou who hast thrown all right aside, 
Weep thou for me when I have died. 
Canst thou one charge against the king, 
Or the most duteous Rama bring? 
The one thy sin to death has sent, 
The other chased to banishment. 
Our line's destroyer, sin defiled 
Like one who kills an unborn child, 
Ne'er with thy lord in heaven to dwell, 
Thy portion shall be down in hell 
Because thy hand, that stayed for naught, 



Canto LXXIV. Bharat's Lament. 639 

This awful wickedness has wrought, 

And ruined him whom all held dear, 

My bosom too is stirred with fear. 

My father by thy sin is dead, 

And Rama to the wood is fled; 

And of thy deed I bear the stain, 

And fameless in the world remain. 

Ambitious, evil-souled, in show 

My mother, yet my direst foe. 

My throning ne'er thine eyes shall bless, 

Thy husband's wicked murderess. [183] 

Thou art not Asvapati's child, 

That righteous king most sage and mild, 

But thou wast born a fiend, a foe 

My father's house to overthrow. 

Thou who hast made Kausalya, pure, 

Gentle, affectionate, endure 

The loss of him who was her bliss, — 

What worlds await thee, Queen, for this? 

Was it not patent to thy sense 

That Rama was his friends' defence, 

Kausalya's own true child most dear, 

The eldest and his father's peer? 

Men in the son not only trace 

The father's figure, form, and face, 

But in his heart they also find 

The offspring of the father's mind; 

And hence, though dear their kinsmen are, 

To mothers sons are dearer far. 

There goes an ancient legend how 

Good Surabhi, the God-loved cow, 

Saw two of her dear children strain, 

Drawing a plough and faint with pain. 

She saw them on the earth outworn, 



640 The Ramayana 

Toiling till noon from early morn, 
And as she viewed her children's woe, 
A flood of tears began to flow. 
As through the air beneath her swept 
The Lord of Gods, the drops she wept, 
Fine, laden with delicious smell, 
Upon his heavenly body fell. 
And Indra lifted up his eyes 
And saw her standing in the skies, 
Afflicted with her sorrow's weight, 
Sad, weeping, all disconsolate. 
The Lord of Gods in anxious mood 
Thus spoke in suppliant attitude: 
"No fear disturbs our rest, and how 
Come this great dread upon thee now? 
Whence can this woe upon thee fall, 
Say, gentle one who lovest all?" 

Thus spake the God who rules the skies, 
Indra, the Lord supremely wise; 
And gentle Surabhi, well learned 
In eloquence, this speech returned: 
"Not thine the fault, great God, not thine 
And guiltless are the Lords divine: 
I mourn two children faint with toil, 
Labouring hard in stubborn soil. 
Wasted and sad I see them now, 
While the sun beats on neck and brow, 
Still goaded by the cruel hind, — 
No pity in his savage mind. 
O Indra, from this body sprang 
These children, worn with many a pang. 
For this sad sight I mourn, for none 
Is to the mother like her son." 



Canto LXXIV. Bharat's Lament. 641 

He saw her weep whose offspring feed 
In thousands over hill and mead, 
And knew that in a mother's eye 
Naught with a son, for love, can vie. 
He deemed her, when the tears that came 
From her sad eyes bedewed his frame, 
Laden with their celestial scent, 
Of living things most excellent. 
If she these tears of sorrow shed 
Who many a thousand children bred, 
Think what a life of woe is left 
Kausalya, of her Rama reft. 
An only son was hers and she 
Is rendered childless now by thee. 
Here and hereafter, for thy crime, 
Woe is thy lot through endless time. 
And now, O Queen, without delay, 
With all due honour will I pay 
Both to my brother and my sire 
The rites their several fates require. 
Back to Ayodhya will I bring 
The long-armed chief, her lord and king, 
And to the wood myself betake 
Where hermit saints their dwelling make. 
For, sinner both in deed and thought! 
This hideous crime which thou hast wrought 
I cannot bear, or live to see 
The people's sad eyes bent on me. 
Begone, to Dandak wood retire, 
Or cast thy body to the fire, 
Or bind around thy neck the rope: 
No other refuge mayst thou hope. 
When Rama, lord of valour true, 
Has gained the earth, his right and due, 



642 The Ramayana 

Then, free from duty's binding debt, 
My vanished sin shall I forget." 



Thus like an elephant forced to brook 
The goading of the driver's hook, 
Quick panting like a serpent maimed, 
He fell to earth with rage inflamed. 



Canto LXXV. The Abjuration. 



A while he lay: he rose at length, 

And slowly gathering sense and strength, 

With angry eyes which tears bedewed, 

The miserable queen he viewed, 

And spake with keen reproach to her 

Before each lord and minister: 

"No lust have I for kingly sway, 

My mother I no more obey: 

Naught of this consecration knew 

Which Dasaratha kept in view. 

I with Satrughna all the time 

Was dwelling in a distant clime: 

I knew of Rama's exile naught, 

That hero of the noble thought: 

I knew not how fair Sita went, 

And Lakshman, forth to banishment." 



Canto LXXV. The Abjuration. 643 

Thus high-souled Bharat, mid the crowd, 
Lifted his voice and cried aloud. 
Kausalya heard, she raised her head, 
And quickly to Sumitra said: 
"Bharat, Kaikeyfs son is here, — 
Hers whose fell deeds I loathe and fear: 
That youth of foresight keen I fain 
Would meet and see his face again." 
Thus to Sumitra spake the dame, 
And straight to Bharat's presence came 
With altered mien, neglected dress, 
Trembling and faint with sore distress. 
Bharat, Satrughna by his side, 
To meet her, toward her palace hied. 
And when the royal dame they viewed 
Distressed with dire solicitude, 
Sad, fallen senseless on the ground, 
About her neck their arms they wound. 
The noble matron prostrate there, 
Embraced, with tears, the weeping pair, 
And with her load of grief oppressed, 
To Bharat then these words addressed: 
"Now all is thine, without a foe, 
This realm for which thou longest so. 
Ah, soon Kaikeyfs ruthless hand 
Has won the empire of the land, 
And made my guiltless Rama flee 
Dressed like some lonely devotee. 
Herein what profit has the queen, 
Whose eye delights in havoc, seen? 
Me also, me 'twere surely good 
To banish to the distant wood, 
To dwell amid the shades that hold 
My famous son with limbs like gold. 



644 The Ramayana 

Nay, with the sacred fire to guide, 
Will I, Sumitra by my side, 
Myself to the drear wood repair 
And seek the son of Raghu there. 
This land which rice and golden corn 
And wealth of every kind adorn, 
Car, elephant, and steed, and gem, — 
She makes thee lord of it and them." 

With taunts like these her bitter tongue 
The heart of blameless Bharat wrung 
And direr pangs his bosom tore 
Than when the lancet probes a sore. 
With troubled senses all astray 
Prone at her feet he fell and lay. 
With loud lament a while he plained, 
And slowly strength and sense regained. 
With suppliant hand to hand applied 
He turned to her who wept and sighed, 
And thus bespake the queen, whose breast 
With sundry woes was sore distressed: 
"Why these reproaches, noble dame? 
I, knowing naught, am free from blame. 
Thou knowest well what love was mine 
For Rama, chief of Raghu's line. 
O, never be his darkened mind 
To Scripture's guiding lore inclined, 
By whose consent the prince who led 
The good, the truthful hero, fled. 
May he obey the vilest lord, 
Offend the sun with act abhorred, 350 
And strike a sleeping cow, who lent 



350 Suryamcha pratimehatu, adversus solem mingat. An offence expressly 
forbidden by the Laws of Manu. 



Canto LXXV. The Abjuration. 645 

His voice to Rama's banishment. 
May the good king who all befriends, 
And, like his sons, the people tends, 
Be wronged by him who gave consent 
To noble Rama's banishment. 
On him that king's injustice fall, 
Who takes, as lord, a sixth of all, 
Nor guards, neglectful of his trust, 
His people, as a ruler must. 
The crime of those who swear to fee, 
At holy rites, some devotee, 
And then the promised gift deny, 
Be his who willed the prince should fly. 
When weapons clash and heroes bleed, 
With elephant and harnessed steed, 
Ne'er, like the good, be his to fight 
Whose heart allowed the prince's flight. 
Though taught with care by one expert 
May he the Veda's text pervert, 
With impious mind on evil bent, 
Whose voice approved the banishment. 
May he with traitor lips reveal 
Whate'er he promised to conceal, 
And bruit abroad his friend's offence, 
Betrayed by generous confidence. 
No wife of equal lineage born 
The wretch's joyless home adorn: 
Ne'er may he do one virtuous deed, 
And dying see no child succeed. 
When in the battle's awful day 
Fierce warriors stand in dread array, 
Let the base coward turn and fly, 
And smitten by the foeman, die. 
Long may he wander, rags his wear, 



646 The Ramayana 

Doomed in his hand a skull to bear, 
And like an idiot beg his bread, 
Who gave consent when Rama fled. 
His sin who holy rites forgets, 
Asleep when shows the sun and sets, 
A load upon his soul shall lie 
Whose will allowed the prince to fly. 
His sin who loves his Master's dame, 
His, kindler of destructive flame, 
His who betrays his trusting friend 
Shall, mingled all, on him descend. 
By him no reverence due be paid 
To blessed God or parted shade: 
May sire and mother's sacred name 
In vain from him obedience claim. 
Ne'er may he go where dwell the good, 
Nor win their fame and neighbourhood, 
But lose all hopes of bliss to-day, 
Who willed the prince should flee away. 
May he deceive the poor and weak 
[185] Who look to him and comfort seek, 

Betray the suppliants who complain, 
And make the hopeful hope in vain. 
Long may his wife his kiss expect, 
And pine away in cold neglect. 
May he his lawful love despise, 
And turn on other dames his eyes, 
Fool, on forbidden joys intent, 
Whose will allowed the banishment. 
His sin who deadly poison throws 
To spoil the water as it flows, 
Lay on the wretch its burden dread 
Who gave consent when Rama fled." 351 



351 Bharat does not intend these curses for any particular person: he merely 



Canto LXXV. The Abjuration. 647 

Thus with his words he undeceived 
Kausalya's troubled heart, who grieved 
For son and husband reft away; 
Then prostrate on the ground he lay. 
Him as he lay half-senseless there, 
Freed by the mighty oaths he sware, 
Kausalya, by her woe distressed, 
With melancholy words addressed: 
"Anew, my son, this sorrow springs 
To rend my heart with keener stings: 
These awful oaths which thou hast sworn 
My breast with double grief have torn. 
Thy soul, and faithful Lakshman's too, 
Are still, thank Heaven! to virtue true. 
True to thy promise, thou shalt gain 
The mansions which the good obtain." 



Then to her breast that youth she drew, 
Whose sweet fraternal love she knew, 
And there in strict embraces held 
The hero, as her tears outwelled. 
And Bharat's heart grew sick and faint 
With grief and oft-renewed complaint, 
And all his senses were distraught 
By the great woe that in him wrought. 
Thus he lay and still bewailed 

With sighs and loud lament 
Till all his strength and reason failed, 

The hours of night were spent. 



wishes to prove his own innocence by invoking them on his own head if he 
had any share in banishing Rama. 



648 The Ramayana 

Canto LXXVI. The Funeral. 

The saint Vasishtha, best of all 
Whose words with moving wisdom fall, 
Bharat, Kaikeyi's son, addressed, 
Whom burning fires of grief distressed: 
"O Prince, whose fame is widely spread, 
Enough of grief: be comforted. 
The time is come: arise, and lay 
Upon the pyre the monarch's clay." 

He heard the words Vasishtha spoke, 
And slumbering resolution woke. 
Then skilled in all the laws declare, 
He bade his friends the rites prepare. 
They raised the body from the oil, 
And placed it, dripping, on the soil; 
Then laid it on a bed, whereon 
Wrought gold and precious jewels shone. 
There, pallor o'er his features spread, 
The monarch, as in sleep, lay dead. 
Then Bharat sought his father's side, 
And lifted up his voice and cried: 
"O King, and has thy heart designed 
To part and leave thy son behind? 
Make Rama flee, who loves the right, 
And Lakshman of the arm of might? 
Whither, great Monarch, wilt thou go 
And leave this people in their woe, 
Mourning their hero, wild with grief, 
Of Rama reft, their lion chief? 
Ah, who will guard the people well 
Who in Ayodhya's city dwell, 
When thou, my sire, hast sought the sky, 



Canto LXXVI. The Funeral. 649 

And Rama has been forced to fly? 
In widowed woe, bereft of thee, 
The land no more is fair to see: 
The city, to my aching sight, 
Is gloomy as a moonless night." 

Thus, with o'erwhelming sorrow pained, 
Sad Bharat by the bed complained: 
And thus Vasishtha, holy sage, 
Spoke his deep anguish to assuage: 
"O Lord of men, no longer stay; 
The last remaining duties pay: 
Haste, mighty-armed, as I advise, 
The funeral rites to solemnize." 

And Bharat heard Vasishtha's rede 
With due attention and agreed. 
He summoned straight from every side 
Chaplain, and priest, and holy guide. 
The sacred fires he bade them bring 
Forth from the chapel of the king, 
Wherein the priests in order due, 
And ministers, the offerings threw. 
Distraught in mind, with sob and tear, 
They laid the body on a bier, 
And servants, while their eyes brimmed o'er 
The monarch from the palace bore. 
Another band of mourners led 
The long procession of the dead: 
Rich garments in the way they cast, 
And gold and silver, as they passed. 
Then other hands the corse bedewed 
With fragrant juices that exude 
From sandal, cedar, aloe, pine, 



650 The Ramayana 

And every perfume rare and fine. 
Then priestly hands the mighty dead 
Upon the pyre deposited. 
The sacred fires they tended next, 
And muttered low each funeral text; 
[186] And priestly singers who rehearse 

The Saman 352 sang their holy verse. 
Forth from the town in litters came, 
Or chariots, many a royal dame, 
And honoured so the funeral ground, 
With aged followers ringed around. 
With steps in inverse order bent, 353 
The priests in sad procession went 
Around the monarch's burning pyre 
Who well had nursed each sacred fire: 
With Queen Kausalya and the rest, 
Their tender hearts with woe distressed. 
The voice of women, shrill and clear 
As screaming curlews, smote the ear, 
As from a thousand voices rose 
The shriek that tells of woman's woes. 
Then weeping, faint, with loud lament, 
Down Sarjii's shelving bank they went. 

There standing on the river side 
With Bharat, priest, and peer, 

Their lips the women purified 
With water fresh and clear. 

Returning to the royal town, 

Their eyes with tear-drops filled, 

Ten days on earth they laid them down, 
And wept till grief was stilled. 



352 The Sama-veda, the hymns of which are chanted aloud. 

353 Walking from right to left. 



Canto LXXVII. The Gathering Of The Ashes. 65 1 

Canto LXXVII. The Gathering Of The 

Ashes. 



The tenth day passed: the prince again 

Was free from every legal stain. 

He bade them on the twelfth the great 

Remaining honour celebrate. 

Much gold he gave, and gems, and food, 

To all the Brahman multitude, 

And goats whose hair was white and fine, 

And many a thousand head of kine: 

Slaves, men and damsels, he bestowed, 

And many a car and fair abode: 

Such gifts he gave the Brahman race 

His father's obsequies to grace. 

Then when the morning's earliest ray 

Appeared upon the thirteenth day, 

Again the hero wept and sighed 

Distraught and sorrow-stupefied; 

Drew, sobbing in his anguish, near, 

The last remaining debt to clear, 

And at the bottom of the pyre, 

He thus bespake his royal sire: 

"O father, hast thou left me so, 

Deserted in my friendless woe, 

When he to whom the charge was given 

To keep me, to the wood is driven? 

Her only son is forced away 

Who was his helpless mother's stay: 

Ah, whither, father, art thou fled; 

Leaving the queen uncomforted?" 



652 The Ramayana 

He looked upon the pile where lay 
The bones half-burnt and ashes grey, 
And uttering a piteous moan, 
Gave way, by anguish overthrown. 
Then as his tears began to well, 
Prostrate to earth the hero fell; 
So from its seat the staff they drag, 
And cast to earth some glorious flag. 
The ministers approached again 
The prince whom rites had freed from stain; 
So when Yayati fell, each seer, 
In pity for his fate, drew near. 
Satrughna saw him lying low 
O'erwhelmed beneath the crush of woe, 
And as upon the king he thought, 
He fell upon the earth distraught. 
When to his loving memory came 
Those noble gifts, that kingly frame, 
He sorrowed, by his woe distressed, 
As one by frenzied rage possessed: 
"Ah me, this surging sea of woe 
Has drowned us with its overflow: 
The source is Manthara, dire and dark, 
Kaikeyi is the ravening shark: 
And the great boons the monarch gave 
Lend conquering might to every wave. 
Ah, whither wilt thou go, and leave 
Thy Bharat in his woe to grieve, 
Whom ever 'twas thy greatest joy 
To fondle as a tender boy? 
Didst thou not give with thoughtful care 
Our food, our drink, our robes to wear? 
Whose love will now for us provide, 
When thou, our king and sire, hast died? 



Canto LXXVII. The Gathering Of The Ashes. 653 

At such a time bereft, forlorn, 
Why is not earth in sunder torn, 
Missing her monarch's firm control, 
His love of right, his lofty soul? 
Ah me, for Rama roams afar, 
My sire is where the Blessed are; 
How can I live deserted? I 
Will pass into the fire and die. 
Abandoned thus, I will not brook 
Upon Ayodhya's town to look, 
Once guarded by Ikshvaku's race: 
The wood shall be my dwelling place." 

Then when the princes' mournful train 
Heard the sad brothers thus complain, 
And saw their misery, at the view 
Their grief burst wilder out anew. 
Faint with lamenting, sad and worn, 
Each like a bull with broken horn, 
The brothers in their wild despair 
Lay rolling, mad with misery, there. 
Then old Vasishtha good and true, 
Their father's priest, all lore who knew, 
Raised weeping Bharat on his feet, 
And thus bespake with counsel meet: 

"Twelve days, my lord, have past away [187] 

Since flames consumed thy father's clay: 
Delay no more: as rules ordain, 
Gather what bones may yet remain. 
Three constant pairs are ever found 
To hem all mortal creatures round: 354 
Then mourn not thus, O Prince, for none 
Their close companionship may shun." 



354 Birth and death, pleasure and pain, loss and gain. 



654 The Ramayana 

Sumantra bade Satrughna rise, 
And soothed his soul with counsel wise, 
And skilled in truth, his hearer taught 
How all things are and come to naught. 
When rose each hero from the ground, 
A lion lord of men, renowned, 
He showed like Indra's flag, 355 whereon 
Fierce rains have dashed and suns have shone. 
They wiped their red and weeping eyes, 
And gently made their sad replies: 
Then, urged to haste, the royal pair 
Performed the rites that claimed their care. 



Canto LXXVIII. Manthara Punished. 



Satrughna thus to Bharat spake 

Who longed the forest road to take: 

"He who in woe was wont to give 

Strength to himself and all that live — 

Dear Rama, true and pure in heart, 

Is banished by a woman's art. 

Yet here was Lakshman, brave and strong, 

Could not his might prevent the wrong? 

Could not his arm the king restrain, 

Or make the banished free again? 

One loving right and fearing crime 

Had checked the monarch's sin in time, 

When, vassal of a woman's will, 

His feet approached the path of ill." 



355 Erected upon a tree or high staff in honour of Indra. 



Canto LXXVIII. Manthara Punished. 655 

While Lakshman's younger brother, dread 
Satrughna, thus to Bharat said, 
Came to the fronting door, arrayed 
In glittering robes, the hump-back maid. 
There she, with sandal-oil besmeared, 
In garments meet for queens appeared: 
And lustre to her form was lent 
By many a gem and ornament. 
She girdled with her broidered zone, 
And many a chain about her thrown, 
Showed like a female monkey round 
Whose body many a string is bound. 
When on that cause of evil fell 
The quick eye of the sentinel, 
He grasped her in his ruthless hold, 
And hastening in, Satrughna told: 
"Here is the wicked pest," he cried, 
"Through whom the king thy father died, 
And Rama wanders in the wood: 
Do with her as thou deemest good." 
The warder spoke: and every word 
Satrughna's breast to fury stirred: 
He called the servants, all and each. 
And spake in wrath his hasty speech: 
"This is the wretch my sire who slew, 
And misery on my brothers drew: 
Let her this day obtain the meed, 
Vile sinner, of her cruel deed." 
He spake; and moved by fury laid 
His mighty hand upon the maid, 
Who as her fellows ringed her round, 
Made with her cries the hall resound. 
Soon as the gathered women viewed 
Satrughna in his angry mood, 



656 The Ramayana 

Their hearts disturbed by sudden dread, 
They turned and from his presence fled. 
"His rage," they cried, "on us will fall, 
And ruthless, he will slay us all. 
Come, to Kausalya let us flee: 
Our hope, our sure defence is she, 
Approved by all, of virtuous mind, 
Compassionate, and good, and kind." 

His eyes with burning wrath aglow, 
Satrughna, shatterer of the foe, 
Dragged on the ground the hump-back maid 
Who shrieked aloud and screamed for aid. 
This way and that with no remorse 
He dragged her with resistless force, 
And chains and glittering trinkets burst 
Lay here and there with gems dispersed, 
Till like the sky of Autumn shone 
The palace floor they sparkled on. 
The lord of men, supremely strong, 
Haled in his rage the wretch along: 
Where Queen Kaikeyi dwelt he came, 
And sternly then addressed the dame. 
Deep in her heart Kaikeyi felt 
The stabs his keen reproaches dealt, 
And of Satrughna's ire afraid, 
To Bharat flew and cried for aid. 
He looked and saw the prince inflamed 
With burning rage, and thus exclaimed: 
"Forgive! thine angry arm restrain: 
A woman never may be slain. 
My hand Kaikeyi' s blood would spill, 
The sinner ever bent on ill, 
But Rama, long in duty tried, 



Canto LXXIX. Bharat's Commands. 657 

Would hate the impious matricide: 
And if he knew thy vengeful blade 
Had slaughtered e'en this hump-back maid, 
Never again, be sure, would he 
Speak friendly word to thee or me." 

When Bharat's speech Satrughna heard 
He calmed the rage his breast that stirred, [188] 

Releasing from her dire constraint 
The trembling wretch with terror faint. 
Then to Kaikeyi's feet she crept, 
And prostrate in her misery wept. 
Kaikeyi on the hump-back gazed, 

And saw her weep and gasp. 
Still quivering, with her senses dazed, 

From fierce Satrughna's grasp. 
With gentle words of pity she 

Assuaged her wild despair, 
E'en as a tender hand might free 

A curlew from the snare. 



Canto LXXIX. Bharat's Commands. 



Now when the sun's returning ray 
Had ushered in the fourteenth day, 
The gathered peers of state addressed 
To Bharat's ear their new request: 
"Our lord to heaven has parted hence, 
Long served with deepest reverence; 
Rama, the eldest, far from home, 
And Lakshman, in the forest roam. 



658 The Ramayana 

Prince, of mighty fame, be thou 
Our guardian and our monarch now, 
Lest secret plot or foeman's hate 
Assail our unprotected state. 

With longing eyes, O Lord of men, 
To thee look friend and citizen, 
And ready is each sacred thing 
To consecrate our chosen king. 
Come, Bharat, and accept thine own 
Ancient hereditary throne. 
Thee let the priests this day install 
As monarch to preserve us all." 

Around the sacred gear he bent 
His circling footsteps reverent, 
And, firm to vows he would not break, 
Thus to the gathered people spake: 
"The eldest son is ever king: 
So rules the house from which we spring: 
Nor should ye, Lords, like men unwise, 
With words like these to wrong advise. 
Rama is eldest born, and he 
The ruler of the land shall be. 
Now to the woods will I repair, 
Five years and nine to lodge me there. 
Assemble straight a mighty force, 
Cars, elephants, and foot and horse, 
For I will follow on his track 
And bring my eldest brother back. 
Whate'er the rites of throning need 
Placed on a car the way shall lead: 
The sacred vessels I will take 
To the wild wood for Rama's sake. 

1 o'er the lion prince's head 



Canto LXXX. The Way Prepared. 659 

The sanctifying balm will shed, 

And bring him, as the fire they bring 

Forth from the shrine, with triumphing. 

Nor will I let my mother's greed 

In this her cherished aim succeed: 

In pathless wilds will I remain, 

And Rama here as king shall reign. 

To make the rough ways smooth and clear 

Send workman out and pioneer: 

Let skilful men attend beside 

Our way through pathless spots to guide." 

As thus the royal Bharat spake, 

Ordaining all for Rama's sake, 

The audience gave with one accord 

Auspicious answer to their lord: 

"Be royal Fortune aye benign 

To thee for this good speech of thine, 

Who wishest still thine elder's hand 

To rule with kingly sway the land." 

Their glorious speech, their favouring cries 
Made his proud bosom swell: 

And from the prince's noble eyes 
The tears of rapture fell. 356 



Canto LXXX. The Way Prepared. 



356 I follow in this stanza the Bombay edition in preference to Schlegel's which 
gives the tears of joy to the courtiers. 



660 The Ramayana 

All they who knew the joiner's art, 
Or distant ground in every part; 
Each busied in his several trade, 
To work machines or ply the spade; 
Deft workmen skilled to frame the wheel, 
Or with the ponderous engine deal; 
Guides of the way, and craftsmen skilled, 
To sink the well, make bricks, and build; 
And those whose hands the tree could hew, 
And work with slips of cut bamboo, 
Went forward, and to guide them, they 
Whose eyes before had seen the way. 
Then onward in triumphant mood 
Went all the mighty multitude. 
Like the great sea whose waves leap high 
When the full moon is in the sky. 
Then, in his proper duty skilled, 
Each joined him to his several guild, 
And onward in advance they went 
With every tool and implement. 
Where bush and tangled creeper lay 
With trenchant steel they made the way; 
They felled each stump, removed each stone, 
And many a tree was overthrown. 
In other spots, on desert lands, 
Tall trees were reared by busy hands. 
Where'er the line of road they took, 
[189] They plied the hatchet, axe, and hook. 

Others, with all their strength applied, 
Cast vigorous plants and shrubs aside, 
In shelving valleys rooted deep, 
And levelled every dale and steep. 
Each pit and hole that stopped the way 
They filled with stones, and mud, and clay, 



Canto LXXX. The Way Prepared. 66 1 

And all the ground that rose and fell 

With busy care was levelled well. 

They bridged ravines with ceaseless toil, 

And pounded fine the flinty soil. 

Now here, now there, to right and left, 

A passage through the ground they cleft, 

And soon the rushing flood was led 

Abundant through the new-cut bed, 

Which by the running stream supplied 

With ocean's boundless waters vied. 

In dry and thirsty spots they sank 

Full many a well and ample tank, 

And altars round about them placed 

To deck the station in the waste. 

With well-wrought plaster smoothly spread, 

With bloomy trees that rose o'erhead, 

With banners waving in the air, 

And wild birds singing here and there, 

With fragrant sandal-water wet, 

With many a flower beside it set, 

Like the Gods' heavenly pathway showed 

That mighty host's imperial road. 

Deft workmen, chosen for their skill 

To do the high-souled Bharat's will, 

In every pleasant spot where grew 

Trees of sweet fruit and fair to view, 

As he commanded, toiled to grace 

With all delights his camping-place. 

And they who read the stars, and well 

Each lucky sign and hour could tell, 

Raised carefully the tented shade 

Wherein high-minded Bharat stayed. 

With ample space of level ground, 

With broad deep moat encompassed round; 



662 The Ramayana 

Like Mandar in his towering pride, 
With streets that ran from side to side; 
Enwreathed with many a palace tall 
Surrounded by its noble wall; 
With roads by skilful workmen made, 
Where many a glorious banner played; 
With stately mansions, where the dove 
Sat nestling in her cote above. 
Rising aloft supremely fair 
Like heavenly cars that float in air, 
Each camp in beauty and in bliss 
Matched Indra's own metropolis. 

As shines the heaven on some fair night, 
With moon and constellations filled, 

The prince's royal road was bright, 
Adorned by art of workmen skilled. 



Canto LXXXI. The Assembly. 

Ere yet the dawn had ushered in 
The day should see the march begin, 
Herald and bard who rightly knew 
Each nice degree of honour due, 
Their loud auspicious voices raised, 
And royal Bharat blessed and praised. 
With sticks of gold the drum they smote, 
Which thundered out its deafening note, 
Blew loud the sounding shell, and blent 
Each high and low-toned instrument. 
The mingled sound of drum and horn 
Through all the air was quickly borne, 



Canto LXXXI. The Assembly. 663 

And as in Bharat's ear it rang, 
Gave the sad prince another pang. 

Then Bharat, starting from repose, 
Stilled the glad sounds that round him rose, 
"I am not king; no more mistake:" 
Then to Satrughna thus he spake: 
"O see what general wrongs succeed 
Sprung from Kaikeyi's evil deed! 
The king my sire has died and thrown 
Fresh miseries on me alone. 
The royal bliss, on duty based, 
Which our just high-souled father graced, 
Wanders in doubt and sore distress 
Like a tossed vessel rudderless. 
And he who was our lordly stay 
Roams in the forest far away, 
Expelled by this my mother, who 
To duty's law is most untrue." 

As royal Bharat thus gave vent 
To bitter grief in wild lament, 
Gazing upon his face the crowd 
Of pitying women wept aloud. 
His lamentation scarce was o'er, 
When Saint Vasishtha, skilled in lore 
Of royal duty, dear to fame, 
To join the great assembly came. 
Girt by disciples ever true 
Still nearer to that hall he drew, 
Resplendent, heavenly to behold, 
Adorned with wealth of gems and gold: 
E'en so a man in duty tried 
Draws near to meet his virtuous bride. 



664 The Ramayana 

He reached his golden seat o'erlaid 
With coverlet of rich brocade, 
There sat, in all the Vedas read, 
And called the messengers, and said: 
"Go forth, let Brahman, Warrior, peer, 
And every captain gather here: 
Let all attentive hither throng: 
Go, hasten: we delay too long. 
Satrughna, glorious Bharat bring, 
[190] The noble children of the king, 357 

Yudhajit 358 and Sumantra, all 
The truthful and the virtuous call." 

He ended: soon a mighty sound 
Of thickening tumult rose around, 
As to the hall they bent their course 
With car, and elephant, and horse, 
The people all with glad acclaim 
Welcomed Prince Bharat as he came: 
E'en as they loved their king to greet, 
Or as the Gods Lord Indra 359 meet. 
The vast assembly shone as fair 

With Bharat's kingly face 
As Dasaratha's self were there 

To glorify the place. 
It gleamed like some unruffled lake 

Where monsters huge of mould 
With many a snake their pastime take 
O'er shells, sand, gems, and gold. 



357 The commentator says "Satrughna accompanied by the other sons of the 
king." 

358 Not Bharat's uncle, but some councillor. 

359 Satakratu, Lord of a hundred sacrifices, the performance of a hundred 
Asvamedhas or sacrifices of a horse entitling the sacrificer to this exalted 
dignity. 



Canto LXXXII. The Departure. 665 

Canto LXXXII. The Departure. 



The prudent prince the assembly viewed 

Thronged with its noble multitude, 

Resplendent as a cloudless night 

When the full moon is in his height; 

While robes of every varied hue 

A glory o'er the synod threw. 

The priest in lore of duty skilled 

Looked on the crowd the hall that filled, 

And then in accents soft and grave 

To Bharat thus his counsel gave: 

"The king, dear son, so good and wise, 

Has gone from earth and gained the skies, 

Leaving to thee, her rightful lord, 

This rich wide land with foison stored. 

And still has faithful Rama stood 

Firm to the duty of the good, 

And kept his father's hest aright, 

As the moon keeps its own dear light. 

Thus sire and brother yield to thee 

This realm from all annoyance free: 

Rejoice thy lords: enjoy thine own: 

Anointed king, ascend the throne. 

Let vassal Princes hasten forth 

From distant lands, west, south, and north, 

From Kerala, 360 from every sea, 

And bring ten million gems to thee." 

As thus the sage Vasishtha spoke, 

A storm of grief o'er Bharat broke. 

And longing to be just and true, 

His thoughts to duteous Rama flew. 



666 The Ramayana 

With sobs and sighs and broken tones, 

E'en as a wounded mallard moans, 

He mourned with deepest sorrow moved, 

And thus the holy priest reproved: 

"O, how can such as Bharat dare 

The power and sway from him to tear, 

Wise, and devout, and true, and chaste, 

With Scripture lore and virtue graced? 

Can one of Dasaratha's seed 

Be guilty of so vile a deed? 

The realm and I are Rama's: thou, 

Shouldst speak the words of justice now. 

For he, to claims of virtue true, 

Is eldest born and noblest too: 

Nahush, Dilipa could not be 

More famous in their lives than he. 

As Dasaratha ruled of right, 

So Rama's is the power and right. 

If I should do this sinful deed 

And forfeit hope of heavenly meed, 

My guilty act would dim the shine 

Of old Ikshvaku's glorious line. 

Nay, as the sin my mother wrought 

Is grievous to my inmost thought, 

I here, my hands together laid, 

Will greet him in the pathless shade. 

To Rama shall my steps be bent, 

My King, of men most excellent, 

Raghu's illustrious son, whose sway 

Might hell, and earth, and heaven obey." 

That righteous speech, whose every word 
Bore virtue's stamp, the audience heard; 
On Rama every thought was set, 



Canto LXXXII. The Departure. 667 

And with glad tears each eye was wet. 
"Then, if the power I still should lack 
To bring my noble brother back, 
I in the wood will dwell, and share 
His banishment with Lakshman there. 
By every art persuasive I 
To bring him from the wood will try, 
And show him to your loving eyes, 
O Brahmans noble, good, and wise. 
E'en now, the road to make and clear, 
Each labourer pressed, and pioneer 
Have I sent forward to precede 
The army I resolve to lead." 



Thus, by fraternal love possessed, 
His firm resolve the prince expressed, 
Then to Sumantra, deeply read 
In holy texts, he turned and said: 
"Sumantra, rise without delay, 
And as I bid my words obey. 
Give orders for the march with speed, 
And all the army hither lead." 



The wise Sumantra, thus addressed, 
Obeyed the high-souled chiefs behest. 
He hurried forth with joy inspired 
And gave the orders he desired. 
Delight each soldier's bosom filled, 
And through each chief and captain thrilled, [191] 



668 The Ramayana 

To hear that march proclaimed, to bring 
Dear Rama back from wandering. 
From house to house the tidings flew: 
Each soldier's wife the order knew, 
And as she listened blithe and gay 
Her husband urged to speed away. 
Captain and soldier soon declared 
The host equipped and all prepared 
With chariots matching thought for speed, 
And wagons drawn by ox and steed. 
When Bharat by Vasishtha's side, 
His ready host of warriors eyed, 
Thus in Sumantra's ear he spoke: 
"My car and horses quickly yoke." 
Sumantra hastened to fulfil 
With ready joy his master's will, 
And quickly with the chariot sped 
Drawn by fleet horses nobly bred. 
Then glorious Bharat, true, devout, 
Whose genuine valour none could doubt, 
Gave in fit words his order out; 
For he would seek the shade 
Of the great distant wood, and there 
Win his dear brother with his prayer: 
"Sumantra, haste! my will declare 

The host be all arrayed. 
I to the wood my way will take, 

To Rama supplication make, 
And for the world's advantage sake, 

Will lead him home again." 
Then, ordered thus, the charioteer 
Who listened with delighted ear, 
Went forth and gave his orders clear 

To captains of the train. 



Canto LXXXIII. The Journey Begun. 669 

He gave the popular chiefs the word, 
And with the news his friends he stirred, 
And not a single man deferred 

Preparing for the road. 
Then Brahman, Warrior, Merchant, thrall, 
Obedient to Sumantra's call, 
Each in his house arose, and all 
Yoked elephant or camel tall, 
Or ass or noble steed in stall, 

And full appointed showed. 



Canto LXXXIII. The Journey Begun. 

Then Bharat rose at early morn, 
And in his noble chariot borne 
Drove forward at a rapid pace 
Eager to look on Rama's face. 
The priests and lords, a fair array, 
In sun-bright chariots led the way. 
Behind, a well appointed throng, 
Nine thousand elephants streamed along. 
Then sixty thousand cars, and then, 
With various arms, came fighting men. 
A hundred thousand archers showed 
In lengthened line the steeds they rode — 
A mighty host, the march to grace 
Of Bharat, pride of Raghu's race. 
Kaikeyi and Sumitra came, 
And good Kausalya, dear to fame: 
By hopes of Rama's coming cheered 
They in a radiant car appeared. 



670 The Ramayana 

On fared the noble host to see 

Rama and Lakshman, wild with glee, 

And still each other's ear to please, 

Of Rama spoke in words like these: 

"When shall our happy eyes behold 

Our hero true, and pure, and bold, 

So lustrous dark, so strong of arm, 

Who keeps the world from woe and harm? 

The tears that now our eyeballs dim 

Will vanish at the sight of him, 

As the whole world's black shadows fly 

When the bright sun ascends the sky." 

Conversing thus their way pursued 
The city's joyous multitude, 
And each in mutual rapture pressed 
A friend or neighbour to his breast. 
Thus every man of high renown, 
And every merchant of the town, 
And leading subjects, joyous went 
Toward Rama in his banishment. 
And those who worked the potter's wheel, 
And artists skilled in gems to deal; 
And masters of the weaver's art, 
And those who shaped the sword and dart; 
And they who golden trinkets made, 
And those who plied the fuller's trade; 
And servants trained the bath to heat, 
And they who dealt in incense sweet; 
Physicians in their business skilled, 
And those who wine and mead distilled; 
And workmen deft in glass who wrought, 
And those whose snares the peacock caught; 
With them who bored the ear for rings, 



Canto LXXXIII. The Journey Begun. 67 1 

Or sawed, or fashioned ivory things; 

And those who knew to mix cement, 

Or lived by sale of precious scent; 

And men who washed, and men who sewed, 

And thralls who mid the herds abode; 

And fishers of the flood, and they 

Who played and sang, and women gay; 

And virtuous Brahmans, Scripture-wise, 

Of life approved in all men's eyes; 

These swelled the prince's lengthened train, 

Borne each in car or bullock wain. 

Fair were the robes they wore upon 

Their limbs where red-hued unguents shone. 

These all in various modes conveyed 

Their journey after Bharat made; 

The soldiers' hearts with rapture glowed, 

Following Bharat on his road, 

Their chief whose tender love would fain 

Bring his dear brother home again. 

With elephant, and horse, and car, 

The vast procession travelled far, [192] 

And came where Ganga's waves below 

The town of Sringavera 361 flow. 

There, with his friends and kinsmen nigh, 

Dwelt Guha, Rama's dear ally, 

Heroic guardian of the land 

With dauntless heart and ready hand. 

There for a while the mighty force 

That followed Bharat stayed its course, 

Gazing on Ganga's bosom stirred 

By many a graceful water-bird. 

When Bharat viewed his followers there, 



361 Now Sungroor, in the Allahabad district. 



672 The Ramayana 

And Ganga's water, blest and fair, 

The prince, who lore of words possessed, 

His councillors and lords addressed: 

"The captains of the army call: 

Proclaim this day a halt for all, 

That so to-morrow, rested, we 

May cross this flood that seeks the sea. 

Meanwhile, descending to the shore, 

The funeral stream I fain would pour 

From Ganga's fair auspicious tide 

To him, my father glorified." 



Thus Bharat spoke: each peer and lord 
Approved his words with one accord, 
And bade the weary troops repose 
In separate spots where'er they chose. 
There by the mighty stream that day, 
Most glorious in its vast array 
The prince's wearied army lay 

In various groups reclined. 
There Bharat's hours of night were spent, 
While every eager thought he bent 
On bringing home from banishment 

His brother, great of mind. 



Canto LXXXIV. Guha's Anger. 



Canto LXXXIV. Guha's Anger. 673 

King Guha saw the host spread o'er 
The wide expanse of Ganga's shore, 
With waving flag and pennon graced, 
And to his followers spoke in haste: 
"A mighty army meets my eyes, 
That rivals Ocean's self in size: 
Where'er I look my very mind 
No limit to the host can find. 
Sure Bharat with some evil thought 
His army to our land has brought. 
See, huge of form, his flag he rears, 
That like an Ebony-tree appears. 
He comes with bonds to take and chain, 
Or triumph o'er our people slain: 
And after, Rama will he slay, — 
Him whom his father drove away: 
The power complete he longs to gain, 
And — task too hard — usurp the reign. 
So Bharat comes with wicked will 
His brother Rama's blood to spill. 
But Rama's slave and friend am I; 
He is my lord and dear ally. 
Keep here your watch in arms arrayed 
Near Ganga's flood to lend him aid, 
And let my gathered servants stand 
And line with troops the river strand. 
Here let the river keepers meet, 
Who flesh and roots and berries eat; 
A hundred fishers man each boat 
Of the five hundred here afloat, 
And let the youthful and the strong 
Assemble in defensive throng. 
But yet, if, free from guilty thought 
'Gainst Rama, he this land have sought, 



674 The Ramayana 

The prince's happy host to-day 
Across the flood shall make its way." 

He spoke: then bearing in a dish 
A gift of honey, meat, and fish, 
The king of the Nishadas drew 
Toward Bharat for an interview. 
When Bharat's noble charioteer 
Observed the monarch hastening near, 
He duly, skilled in courteous lore, 
The tidings to his master bore: 
"This aged prince who hither bends 
His footsteps with a thousand friends, 
Knows, firm ally of Rama, all 
That may in Dandak wood befall: 
Therefore, Kakutstha's son, admit 
The monarch, as is right and fit: 
For doubtless he can clearly tell 
Where Rama now and Lakshman dwell." 

When Bharat heard Sumantra's rede, 
To his fair words the prince agreed: 
"Go quickly forth," he cried, "and bring 
Before my face the aged king." 
King Guha, with his kinsmen near, 
Rejoiced the summoning to hear: 
He nearer drew, bowed low his head, 
And thus to royal Bharat said: 
"No mansions can our country boast, 
And unexpected comes thy host: 
But what we have I give thee all: 
Rest in the lodging of thy thrall. 
See, the Nishadas here have brought 
The fruit and roots their hands have sought: 



Canto LXXXV. Guha And Bharat. 675 

And we have woodland fare beside, 
And store of meat both fresh and dried. 
To rest their weary limbs, I pray 
This night at least thy host may stay: 
Then cheered with all we can bestow 
To-morrow thou with it mayst go." 



Canto LXXXV. Guha And Bharat. 



Thus the Nishadas' king besought: 

The prince with spirit wisdom-fraught [193] 

Replied in seemly words that blent 

Deep matter with the argument: 

"Thou, friend of him whom I revere, 

With honours high hast met me here, 

For thou alone wouldst entertain 

And feed to-day so vast a train." 

In such fair words the prince replied, 

Then, pointing to the path he cried: 

"Which way aright will lead my feet 

To Bharadvaja's calm retreat; 

For all this land near Ganga's streams 

Pathless and hard to traverse seems?" 



676 The Ramayana 

Thus spoke the prince: King Guha heard 
Delighted every prudent word, 
And gazing on that forest wide, 
Raised suppliant hands, and thus replied: 
"My servants, all the ground who know, 

glorious Prince, with thee shall go 
With constant care thy way to guide, 
And I will journey by thy side. 

But this thy host so wide dispread 
Wakes in my heart one doubt and dread, 
Lest, threatening Rama good and great, 
111 thoughts thy journey stimulate." 

But when King Guha, ill at ease, 
Declared his fear in words like these, 
As pure as is the cloudless sky 
With soft voice Bharat made reply: 
"Suspect me not: ne'er come the time 
For me to plot so foul a crime! 
He is my eldest brother, he 
Is like a father dear to me. 

1 go to lead my brother thence 
Who makes the wood his residence. 

No thought but this thy heart should frame: 
This simple truth my lips proclaim." 

Then with glad cheer King Guha cried, 
With Bharat's answer gratified: 
"Blessed art thou: on earth I see 
None who may vie, O Prince, with thee, 
Who canst of thy free will resign 
The kingdom which unsought is thine. 
For this, a name that ne'er shall die, 
Thy glory through the worlds shall fly, 



Canto LXXXV. Guha And Bharat. 677 

Who fain wouldst balm thy brother's pain 
And lead the exile home again." 



As Guha thus, and Bharat, each 
To other spoke in friendly speech, 
The Day-God sank with glory dead, 
And night o'er all the sky was spread. 
Soon as King Guha's thoughtful care 
Had quartered all the army there, 
Well honoured, Bharat laid his head 
Beside Satrughna on a bed. 
But grief for Rama yet oppressed 
High-minded Bharat's faithful breast — 
Such torment little was deserved 
By him who ne'er from duty swerved. 
The fever raged through every vein 
And burnt him with its inward pain: 
So when in woods the flames leap free 
The fire within consumes the tree. 
From heat of burning anguish sprung 
The sweat upon his body hung, 
As when the sun with fervid glow 
On high Himalaya melts the snow. 
As, banished from the herd, a bull 
Wanders alone and sorrowful. 

Thus sighing and distressed, 
In misery and bitter grief, 
With fevered heart that mocked relief, 
Distracted in his mind, the chief 

Still mourned and found no rest. 



678 The Ramayana 

Canto LXXXVI. Guha's Speech. 

Guha the king, acquainted well 
With all that in the wood befell, 
To Bharat the unequalled told 
The tale of Lakshman mighty- souled: 
"With many an earnest word I spake 
To Lakshman as he stayed awake, 
And with his bow and shaft in hand 
To guard his brother kept his stand: 
"Now sleep a little, Lakshman, see 
This pleasant bed is strewn for thee: 
Hereon thy weary body lay, 
And strengthen thee with rest, I pray, 
Inured to toil are men like these, 
But thou hast aye been nursed in ease. 
Rest, duteous-minded! I will keep 
My watch while Rama lies asleep: 
For in the whole wide world is none 
Dearer to me than Raghu's son. 
Harbour no doubt or jealous fear: 
I speak the truth with heart sincere: 
For from the grace which he has shown 
Will glory on my name be thrown: 
Great store of merit shall I gain, 
And duteous, form no wish in vain. 
Let me enforced by many a row 
Of followers, armed with shaft and bow 
For well-loved Rama's weal provide 
Who lies asleep by Sita's side. 
For through this wood I often go, 
And all its shades conceal I know: 
And we with conquering arms can meet 
A four-fold host arrayed complete." 



Canto LXXXVI. Guha's Speech. 679 

"With words like these I spoke, designed 

To move the high-souled Bharat's mind, 

But he upon his duty bent, 

Plied his persuasive argument: 

"O, how can slumber close mine eyes 

When lowly couched with Sita lies 

The royal Rama? can I give 

My heart to joy, or even live? 

He whom no mighty demon, no, 

Nor heavenly God can overthrow, 

See, Guha, how he lies, alas, [194] 

With Sita couched on gathered grass. 

By varied labours, long, severe, 

By many a prayer and rite austere, 

He, Dasaratha's cherished son, 

By Fortune stamped, from Heaven was won. 

Now as his son is forced to fly, 

The king ere long will surely die: 

Reft of his guardian hand, forlorn 

In widowed grief this land will mourn. 

E'en now perhaps, with toil o'erspent, 

The women cease their loud lament, 

And cries of woe no longer ring 

Throughout the palace of the king. 

But ah for sad Kausalya! how 

Fare she and mine own mother now? 

How fares the king? this night, I think, 

Some of the three in death will sink. 

With hopes upon Satrughna set 

My mother may survive as yet, 

But the sad queen will die who bore 

The hero, for her grief is sore. 

His cherished wish that would have made 

Dear Rama king, so long delayed, 



680 The Ramayana 

"Too late! too late!" the king will cry, 
And conquered by his misery die. 
When Fate has brought the mournful day 
Which sees my father pass away, 
How happy in their lives are they 
Allowed his funeral rites to pay. 
Our exile o'er, with him who ne'er 
Turns from the oath his lips may swear, 
May we returning safe and well 
gain in fair Ayodhya dwell." 
Thus Bharat stood with many a sigh 
Lamenting, and the night went by. 
Soon as the morning light shone fair 
In votive coils both bound their hair. 
And then I sent them safely o'er 
And left them on the farther shore. 
With Sita then they onward passed, 
Their coats of bark about them cast, 

Their locks like hermits' bound, 
The mighty tamers of the foe, 
Each with his arrows and his bow, 

Went over the rugged ground, 
Proud in their strength and undeterred 
Like elephants that lead the herd, 

And gazing oft around." 



Canto LXXXVII. Guha's Story. 



Canto LXXXVII. Guha's Story. 68 1 

That speech of Guha Bharat heard 
With grief and tender pity stirred, 
And as his ears the story drank, 
Deep in his thoughtful heart it sank. 
His large full eyes in anguish rolled, 
His trembling limbs grew stiff and cold; 
Then fell he, like a tree uptorn, 
In woe too grievous to be borne. 
When Guha saw the long-armed chief 
Whose eye was like a lotus leaf, 
With lion shoulders strong and fair, 
High-mettled, prostrate in despair, — 
Pale, bitterly afflicted, he 
Reeled as in earthquake reels a tree. 
But when Satrughna standing nigh 
Saw his dear brother helpless lie, 
Distraught with woe his head he bowed, 
Embraced him oft and wept aloud. 
Then Bharat's mothers came, forlorn 
Of their dear king, with fasting worn, 
And stood with weeping eyes around 
The hero prostrate on the ground. 
Kausalya, by her woe oppressed, 
The senseless Bharat's limbs caressed, 
As a fond cow in love and fear 
Caresses oft her youngling dear: 
Then yielding to her woe she said, 
Weeping and sore disquieted: 
"What torments, O my son, are these 
Of sudden pain or swift disease? 
The lives of us and all the line 
Depend, dear child, on only thine. 
Rama and Lakshman forced to flee, 
I live by naught but seeing thee: 



682 The Ramayana 

For as the king has past away 
Thou art my only help to-day. 
Hast thou, perchance, heard evil news 
Of Lakshman, which thy soul subdues, 
Or Rama dwelling with his spouse — 
My all is he — neath forest boughs?" 

Then slowly gathering sense and strength 
The weeping hero rose at length, 
And words like these to Guha spake, 
That bade Kausalya comfort take: 
"Where lodged the prince that night? and where 
Lakshman the brave, and Sita fair? 
Show me the couch whereon he lay, 
Tell me the food he ate, I pray." 

Then Guha the Nishadas' king 
Replied to Bharat's questioning: 
"Of all I had I brought the best 
To serve my good and honoured guest 
Food of each varied kind I chose, 
And every fairest fruit that grows. 
Rama the hero truly brave 
Declined the gift I humbly gave: 
His Warrior part he ne'er forgot, 
And what I brought accepted not: 
"No gifts, my friend, may we accept: 
Our law is, Give, and must be kept." 
The high-souled chief, O Monarch, thus 
With gracious words persuaded us. 
Then calm and still, absorbed in thought, 
He drank the water Lakshman brought, 
And then, obedient to his vows, 
He fasted with his gentle spouse. 
[195] So Lakshman too from food abstained, 



Canto LXXXVIII. The Ingudi Tree. 683 

And sipped the water that remained: 
Then with ruled lips, devoutly staid, 
The three 362 their evening worship paid. 
Then Lakshman with unwearied care 
Brought heaps of sacred grass, and there 
With his own hands he quickly spread, 
For Rama's rest, a pleasant bed, 
And faithful Sita's too, where they 
Reclining each by other lay. 
Then Lakshman bathed their feet, and drew 
A little distance from the two. 
Here stands the tree which lent them shade, 
Here is the grass beneath it laid, 
Where Rama and his consort spent 
The night together ere they went. 
Lakshman, whose arms the foeman quell, 
Watched all the night as sentinel, 

And kept his great bow strung: 
His hand was gloved, his arm was braced, 
Two well-filled quivers at his waist, 

With deadly arrows, hung. 
I took my shafts and trusty bow, 
And with that tamer of the foe 

Stood ever wakeful near, 
And with my followers, bow in hand, 
Behind me ranged, a ready band, 

Kept watch o'er Indra's peer." 



Canto LXXXVIII. The Ingudi Tree. 



362 Rama, Lakshman, and Sumantra. 



684 The Ramayana 

When Bharat with each friend and peer 

Had heard that tale so full and clear, 

They went together to the tree 

The bed which Rama pressed to see. 

Then Bharat to his mothers said: 

"Behold the high-souled hero's bed: 

These tumbled heaps of grass betray 

Where he that night with Sita lay: 

Unmeet, the heir of fortune high 

Thus on the cold bare earth should lie, 

The monarch's son, in counsel sage, 

Of old imperial lineage. 

That lion-lord whose noble bed 

With finest skins of deer was spread, — 

How can he now endure to press 

The bare earth, cold and comfortless! 

This sudden fall from bliss to grief 

Appears untrue, beyond belief: 

My senses are distraught: I seem 

To view the fancies of a dream. 

There is no deity so great, 

No power in heaven can master Fate, 

If Rama, Dasaratha's heir, 

Lay on the ground and slumbered there; 

And lovely Sita, she who springs 

From fair Videha's ancient kings, 

Rama's dear wife, by all adored, 

Lay on the earth beside her lord. 

Here was his couch, upon this heap 

He tossed and turned in restless sleep: 

On the hard soil each manly limb 

Has stamped the grass with signs of him. 

That night, it seems, fair Sita spent 

Arrayed in every ornament, 



Canto LXXXVIII. The Ingudi Tree. 685 

For here and there my eyes behold 

Small particles of glistering gold. 

She laid her outer garment here, 

For still some silken threads appear, 

How dear in her devoted eyes 

Must be the bed where Rama lies, 

Where she so tender could repose 

And by his side forget her woes. 

Alas, unhappy, guilty me! 

For whom the prince was forced to flee, 

And chief of Raghu's sons and best, 

A bed like this with Sita pressed. 

Son of a royal sire whose hand 

Ruled paramount o'er every land, 

Could he who every joy bestows, 

Whose body like the lotus shows, 

The friend of all, who charms the sight, 

Whose flashing eyes are darkly bright, 

Leave the dear kingdom, his by right, 

Unmeet for woe, the heir of bliss, 

And lie upon a bed like this? 

Great joy and happy fate are thine, 

O Lakshman, marked with each fair sign, 

Whose faithful footsteps follow still 

Thy brother in his hour of ill. 

And blest is Sita, nobly good, 

Who dwells with Rama in the wood. 

Ours is, alas, a doubtful fate 

Of Rama reft and desolate. 

My royal sire has gained the skies, 

In woods the high-souled hero lies; 

The state is wrecked and tempest-tossed, 

A vessel with her rudder lost. 

Yet none in secret thought has planned 



The Ramayana 



With hostile might to seize the land: 
Though forced in distant wilds to dwell, 
The hero's arm protects it well. 
Unguarded, with deserted wall, 
No elephant or steed in stall, 
My father's royal city shows 
Her portals open to her foes, 
Of bold protectors reft and bare, 
Defenceless in her dark despair: 
But still her foes the wish restrain, 
As men from poisoned cates refrain. 
I from this hour my nights will pass 
Couched on the earth or gathered grass, 
Eat only fruit and roots, and wear 
A coat of bark, and matted hair. 
I in the woods will pass, content, 
For him the term of banishment; 
So shall I still unbroken save 
[196] The promise which the hero gave. 

While I remain for Rama there, 
Satrughna will my exile share, 
And Rama in his home again, 
With Lakshman, o'er Ayodhya reign, 
for him, to rule and guard the state, 
The twice-born men shall consecrate. 
O, may the Gods I serve incline 
To grant this earnest wish of mine! 
If when I bow before his feet 
And with all moving arts entreat, 

He still deny my prayer, 
Then with my brother will I live: 
He must, he must permission give, 

Roaming in forests there." 



Canto LXXXIX. The Passage Of Ganga. 687 

Canto LXXXIX. The Passage Of Ganga. 

That night the son of Raghu lay 
On Ganga' s bank till break of day: 
Then with the earliest light he woke 
And thus to brave Satrughna spoke. 
"Rise up, Satrughna, from thy bed: 
Why sleepest thou the night is fled. 
See how the sun who chases night 
Wakes every lotus with his light. 
Arise, arise, and first of all 
The lord of Sringavera call, 
For he his friendly aid will lend 
Our army o'er the flood to send." 

Thus urged, Satrughna answered: "I, 
Remembering Rama, sleepless lie." 
As thus the brothers, each to each, 
The lion-mettled, ended speech, 
Came Guha, the Nishadas' king, 
And spoke with kindly questioning: 
"Hast thou in comfort passed," he cried, 
"The night upon the river side? 
With thee how fares it? and are these, 
Thy soldiers, healthy and at ease?" 
Thus the Nishadas' lord inquired 
In gentle words which love inspired, 
And Bharat, Rama's faithful slave, 
Thus to the king his answer gave: 
"The night has sweetly passed, and we 
Are highly honoured, King, by thee. 
Now let thy servants boats prepare, 
Our army o'er the stream to bear." 



688 The Ramayana 

The speech of Bharat Guha heard, 
And swift to do his bidding stirred. 
Within the town the monarch sped 
And to his ready kinsmen said: 
"Awake, each kinsman, rise, each friend! 
May every joy your lives attend. 
Gather each boat upon the shore 
And ferry all the army o'er." 
Thus Guha spoke: nor they delayed, 
But, rising quick, their lord obeyed, 
And soon, from every side secured, 
Five hundred boats were ready moored. 
Some reared aloft the mystic sign, 363 
And mighty bells were hung in line: 
Of firmest build, gay flags they bore, 
And sailors for the helm and oar. 
One such King Guha chose, whereon, 
Of fair white cloth, an awning shone, 
And sweet musicians charmed the ear, — 
And bade his servants urge it near. 
Then Bharat swiftly sprang on board, 
And then Satrughna, famous lord, 
To whom, with many a royal dame, 
Kausalya and Sumitra came. 
The household priest went first in place, 
The elders, and the Brahman race, 
And after them the monarch's train 
Of women borne in many a wain. 
Then high to heaven the shouts of those 
Who fired the army's huts, 364 arose, 
With theirs who bathed along the shore, 



363 The svastika, a little cross with a transverse line at each extremity. 

364 When an army marched it was customary to burn the huts in which it had 
spent the night. 



Canto XC. The Hermitage. 689 

Or to the boats the baggage bore. 

Full freighted with that mighty force 

The boats sped swiftly on their course, 

By royal Guha's servants manned, 

And gentle gales the banners fanned. 

Some boats a crowd of dames conveyed, 

In others noble coursers neighed; 

Some chariots and their cattle bore, 

Some precious wealth and golden store. 

Across the stream each boat was rowed, 

There duly disembarked its load, 

And then returning on its way, 

Sped here and there in merry play. 

Then swimming elephants appeared 

With flying pennons high upreared. 

And as the drivers urged them o'er, 

The look of winged mountains wore. 

Some men in barges reached the strand, 

Others on rafts came safe to land: 

Some buoyed with pitchers crossed the tide, 

And others on their arms relied. 

Thus with the help the monarch gave 

The army crossed pure Ganga's wave: 

Then in auspicious hour it stood 

Within Prayaga's famous wood. 

The prince with cheering words addressed 

His weary men, and bade them rest 

Where'er they chose and he, 
With priest and deacon by his side, 
To Bharadvaja's dwelling hied 

That best of saints to see. 



[197] 



690 The Ramayana 

Canto XC. The Hermitage. 

The prince of men a league away 
Saw where the hermit's dwelling lay, 
Then with his lords his path pursued, 
And left his warrior multitude. 
On foot, as duty taught his mind, 
He left his warlike gear behind; 
Two robes of linen cloth he wore, 
And bade Vasishtha walk before. 
Then Bharat from his lords withdrew 
When Bharadvaja came in view, 
And toward the holy hermit went 
Behind Vasishtha, reverent. 
When Bharadvaja, saint austere, 
Saw good Vasishtha drawing near, 
He cried, upspringing from his seat, 
"The grace-gift bring, my friend to greet." 
When Saint Vasishtha near him drew, 
And Bharat paid the reverence due, 
The glorious hermit was aware 
That Dasaratha's son was there. 
The grace-gift, water for their feet 
He gave, and offered fruit to eat; 
Then, duty-skilled, with friendly speech 
In seemly order questioned each: 
"How fares it in Ayodhya now 
With treasury and army? how 
With kith and kin and friends most dear, 
With councillor, and prince, and peer?" 
But, for he knew the king was dead, 
Of Dasaratha naught he said. 
Vasishtha and the prince in turn 
Would of the hermit's welfare learn: 



Canto XC. The Hermitage. 691 

Of holy fires they fain would hear, 
Of pupils, trees, and birds, and deer. 
The glorious saint his answer made 
That all was well in holy shade: 
Then love of Rama moved his breast, 
And thus he questioned of his guest: 
"Why art thou here, O Prince, whose band 
With kingly sway protects the land? 
Declare the cause, explain the whole, 
For yet some doubt disturbs my soul. 
He whom Kausalya bare, whose might 
The foemen slays, his line's delight, 
He who with wife and brother sent 
Afar now roam in banishment, 
Famed prince, to whom his father spake 
This order for a woman's sake: 
"Away ! and in the forest spend 
Thy life till fourteen years shall end" — 
Has thou the wish to harm him, bent 
On sin against the innocent? 
Wouldst thou thine elder's realm enjoy 
Without a thorn that can annoy?" 

With sobbing voice and tearful eye 
Thus Bharat sadly made reply: 
"Ah lost am I, if thou, O Saint, 
Canst thus in thought my heart attaint: 
No warning charge from thee I need; 
Ne'er could such crime from me proceed. 
The words my guilty mother spake 
When fondly jealous for my sake — 
Think not that I, to triumph moved, 
Those words approve or e'er approved. 
O Hermit, I have sought this place 



692 The Ramayana 

To win the lordly hero's grace, 
To throw me at my brother's feet 
And lead him to his royal seat. 
To this, my journey's aim and end, 
Thou shouldst, O Saint, thy favour lend: 
Where is the lord of earth? do thou, 
Most holy, say, where roams he now?" 

Then, by the saint Vasishtha pressed, 
And all the gathered priests beside, 

To Bharat's dutiful request 
The hermit graciously replied: 
"Worthy of thee, O Prince, this deed, 
True son of Raghu's ancient seed. 
I know thee reverent, well-controlled, 
The glory of the good of old. 
I grant thy prayer: in this pursuit 
I know thy heart is resolute. 
'Tis for thy sake those words I said 
That wider still thy fame may spread. 
I know where Rama, duty-tried, 
His brother, and his wife abide. 
Where Chitrakuta's heights arise 
Thy brother Rama's dwelling lies. 
Go thither with the morning's light, 
And stay with all thy lords tonight: 
For I would show thee honour high, 
And do not thou my wish deny." 



Canto XCI. Bharadvaja's Feast. 



Canto XCI. Bharadvaja's Feast. 693 

Soon as he saw the prince's mind 

To rest that day was well inclined, 

He sought Kaikeyi's son to please 

With hospitable courtesies. 

Then Bharat to the saint replied: 

"Our wants are more than satisfied. 

The gifts which honoured strangers greet, 

And water for our weary feet 

Hast thou bestowed with friendly care, 

And every choice of woodland fare." 

Then Bharadvaja spoke, a smile 
Playing upon his lips the while: 
"I know, dear Prince, thy friendly mind 
Will any fare sufficient find, 
But gladly would I entertain 
And banquet all thine armed train: 
Such is my earnest wish: do thou 
This longing of my heart allow, 
Why hast thou hither bent thy way, 

And made thy troops behind thee stay? [198] 

Why unattended? couldst thou not 
With friends and army seek this spot?" 

Bharat, with reverent hands raised high, 
To that great hermit made reply: 
"My troops, for awe of thee, O Sage, 
I brought not to thy hermitage: 
Troops of a king or monarch's son 
A hermit's home should ever shun. 
Behind me comes a mighty train 
Wide spreading o'er the ample plain, 
Where every chief and captain leads 
Men, elephants, and mettled steeds. 



694 The Ramayana 

I feared, O reverend Sage, lest these 
Might harm the holy ground and trees, 
Springs might be marred and cots o'erthrown, 
So with the priests I came alone." 

"Bring all thy host," the hermit cried, 
And Bharat, to his joy, complied. 
Then to the chapel went the sire, 
Where ever burnt the sacred fire, 
And first, in order due, with sips 
Of water purified his lips: 
To Visvakarma, then he prayed, 
His hospitable feast to aid: 
"Let Visvakarma hear my call, 
The God who forms and fashions all: 
A mighty banquet I provide, 
Be all my wants this day supplied. 
Lord Indra at their head, the three 365 
Who guard the worlds I call to me: 
A mighty host this day I feed, 
Be now supplied my every need. 
Let all the streams that eastward go, 
And those whose waters westering flow, 
Both on the earth and in the sky, 
Flow hither and my wants supply. 
Be some with ardent liquor filled, 
And some with wine from flowers distilled, 
While some their fresh cool streams retain 
Sweet as the juice of sugar-cane. 
I call the Gods, I call the band 
Of minstrels that around them stand: 
I call the Haha and Huhii, 
I call the sweet Visvavasu, 



Canto XCI. Bharadvaja's Feast. 695 

I call the heavenly wives of these 
With all the bright Apsarases, 
Alambusha of beauty rare, 
The charmer of the tangled hair, 
Ghritachi and Visvachi fair, 
Hema and Bhima sweet to view, 
And lovely Nagadanta too, 
And all the sweetest nymphs who stand 
By Indra or by Brahma's hand — 
I summon these with all their train 
And Tumburu to lead the strain. 
Here let Kuvera's garden rise 
Which far in Northern Kuru 366 lies: 

For leaves let cloth and gems entwine, 

And let its fruit be nymphs divine. 

Let Soma 367 give the noblest food 

To feed the mighty multitude, 

Of every kind, for tooth and lip, 

To chew, to lick, to suck, and sip. 

Let wreaths, where fairest flowers abound, 

Spring from the trees that bloom around. 

Each sort of wine to woo the taste, 

And meats of every kind be placed." 



366 «^ h a ppy j anc j m tne remo te north where the inhabitants enjoy a natural 
pefection attended with complete happiness obtained without exertion. There 
is there no vicissitude, nor decrepitude, nor death, nor fear: no distinction of 
virtue and vice, none of the inequalities denoted by the words best, worst, and 
intermediate, nor any change resulting from the succession of the four Yugas." 
See MUIR'S{FNS Sanskrit Texts, Vol. I. p. 492. 



696 The Ramayana 

Thus spake the hermit self-restrained, 
With proper tone by rules ordained, 
On deepest meditation bent, 
In holy might preeminent. 
Then as with hands in reverence raised 
Absorbed in thought he eastward gazed, 
The deities he thus addressed 
Came each in semblance manifest. 
Delicious gales that cooled the frame 
From Malaya and Dardar came, 
That kissed those scented hills and threw 
Auspicious fragrance where they blew. 
Then falling fast in sweetest showers 
Came from the sky immortal flowers, 
And all the airy region round 
With heavenly drums was made to sound. 
Then breathed a soft celestial breeze, 
Then danced the bright Apsarases, 
The minstrels and the Gods advanced, 
And warbling lutes the soul entranced. 
The earth and sky that music filled, 
And through each ear it softly thrilled, 
As from the heavenly quills it fell 
With time and tune attempered well. 
Soon as the minstrels ceased to play 
And airs celestial died away, 
The troops of Bharat saw amazed 
What Visvakarma's art had raised. 
On every side, five leagues around, 
All smooth and level lay the ground, 
With fresh green grass that charmed the sight 
Like sapphires blent with lazulite. 
There the Wood-apple hung its load, 
The Mango and the Citron glowed, 



Canto XCI. Bharadvaja's Feast. 697 

The Bel and scented Jak were there, 

And Apela with fruitage fair. 

There, brought from Northern Kuru, stood 

Rich in delights, the glorious wood, 

And many a stream was seen to glide [199] 

With flowering trees along its side. 

There mansions rose with four wide halls, 

And elephants and chargers' stalls, 

And many a house of royal state, 

Triumphal arc and bannered gate. 

With noble doorways, sought the sky, 

Like a pale cloud, a palace high, 

Which far and wide rare fragrance shed, 

With wreaths of white engarlanded. 

Square was its shape, its halls were wide, 

With many a seat and couch supplied, 

Drink of all kinds, and every meat 

Such as celestial Gods might eat. 

Then at the bidding of the seer 

Kaikeyfs strong-armed son drew near, 

And passed within that fair abode 

Which with the noblest jewels glowed. 

Then, as Vasishtha led the way, 

The councillors, in due array, 

Followed delighted and amazed 

And on the glorious structure gazed. 

Then Bharat, Raghu's son, drew near 

The kingly throne, with prince and peer, 

Whereby the chouri in the shade 

Of the white canopy was laid. 

Before the throne he humbly bent 

And honoured Rama, reverent, 

Then in his hand the chouri bore, 

And sat where sits a councillor. 



698 The Ramayana 

His ministers and household priest 
Sat by degrees from chief to least, 
Then sat the captain of the host 
And all the men he honoured most. 
Then when the saint his order gave, 
Each river with enchanted wave 
Rolled milk and curds divinely sweet 
Before the princely Bharat's feet; 
And dwellings fair on either side, 
With gay white plaster beautified, 
Their heavenly roofs were seen to lift, 
The Brahman Bharadvaja's gift. 
Then straight by Lord Kuvera sent, 
Gay with celestial ornament 
Of bright attire and jewels' shine, 
Came twenty thousand nymphs divine: 
The man on whom those beauties glanced 
That moment felt his soul entranced. 
With them from Nandan's blissful shades 
Came twenty thousand heavenly maids. 
Tumburu, Narad, Gopa came, 
And Sutanu, like radiant flame, 
The kings of the Gandharva throng, 
And ravished Bharat with their song. 
Then spoke the saint, and swift obeyed 
Alambusha, the fairest maid, 
And Misrakesi bright to view, 
Ramana, Pundrfka too, 
And danced to him with graceful ease 
The dances of Apsarases. 
All chaplets that by Gods are worn, 
Or Chaitraratha's graves adorn, 
Bloomed by the saint's command arrayed 
On branches in Prayaga's shade. 



Canto XCI. Bharadvaja's Feast. 699 

When at the saint's command the breeze 

Made music with the Vilva trees, 

To wave in rhythmic beat began 

The boughs of each Myrobolan, 

And holy fig-trees wore the look 

Of dancers, as their leaflets shook. 

The fair Tamala, palm, and pine, 

With trees that tower and plants that twine, 

The sweetly varying forms displayed 

Of stately dame or bending maid. 

Here men the foaming winecup quaffed, 

Here drank of milk full many a draught, 

And tasted meats of every kind, 

Well dressed, whatever pleased their mind. 

Then beauteous women, seven or eight, 

Stood ready by each man to wait: 

Beside the stream his limbs they stripped 

And in the cooling water dipped. 

And then the fair ones, sparkling eyed, 

With soft hands rubbed his limbs and dried, 

And sitting on the lovely bank 

Held up the winecup as he drank. 

Nor did the grooms forget to feed 

Camel and mule and ox and steed, 

For there were stores of roasted grain, 

Of honey and of sugar-cane. 

So fast the wild excitement spread 

Among the warriors Bharat led, 

That all the mighty army through 

The groom no more his charger knew, 

And he who drove might seek in vain 

To tell his elephant again. 

With every joy and rapture fired, 

Entranced with all the heart desired, 



700 The Ramayana 

The myriads of the host that night 
Revelled delirious with delight. 
Urged by the damsels at their side 
In wild delight the warriors cried: 
"Ne'er will we seek Ayodhya, no, 
Nor yet to Dandak forest go: 
Here will we stay: may happy fate 
On Bharat and on Rama wait." 
Thus cried the army gay and free 
Exulting in their lawless glee, 
Both infantry and those who rode 
On elephants, or steeds bestrode, 
Ten thousand voices shouting, "This 
Is heaven indeed for perfect bliss." 
With garlands decked they idly strayed, 
And danced and laughed and sang and played. 
At length as every soldier eyed, 
With food like Amrit satisfied, 
Each dainty cate and tempting meat, 
No longer had he care to eat. 
Thus soldier, servant, dame, and slave 
Received whate'er the wish might crave. 
As each in new-wrought clothes arrayed 
[200] Enjoyed the feast before him laid. 

Each man was seen in white attire 
Unstained by spot or speck of mire: 
None was athirst or hungry there, 
And none had dust upon his hair. 
On every side in woody dells 
Was milky food in bubbling wells, 
And there were all-supplying cows 
And honey dropping from the boughs. 
Nor wanted lakes of flower-made drink 
With piles of meat upon the brink, 



Canto XCI. Bharadvaja's Feast. 701 

Boiled, stewed, and roasted, varied cheer, 
Peachick and jungle-fowl and deer, 
There was the flesh of kid and boar, 
And dainty sauce in endless store, 
With juice of flowers concocted well, 
And soup that charmed the taste and smell, 
And pounded fruits of bitter taste, 
And many a bath was ready placed 
Down by each river's shelving side 
There stood great basins well supplied, 
And laid therein, of dazzling sheen, 
White brushes for the teeth were seen, 
And many a covered box wherein 
Was sandal powdered for the skin. 
And mirrors bright with constant care, 
And piles of new attire were there, 
And store of sandals and of shoes, 
Thousands of pairs, for all to choose: 
Eye-unguents, combs for hair and beard, 
Umbrellas fair and bows appeared. 
Lakes gleamed, that lent digestive aid, 368 
And some for pleasant bathing made, 
With waters fair, and smooth incline 
For camels, horses, mules, and kine. 
There saw they barley heaped on high 
The countless cattle to supply: 
The golden grain shone fair and bright 
As sapphires or the lazulite. 
To all the gathered host it seemed 
As if that magic scene they dreamed, 
And wonder, as they gazed, increased 
At Bharadvaja's glorious feast. 



368 The poet does not tell us what these lakes contained. 



702 The Ramayana 

Thus in the hermit's grove they spent 
That night in joy and merriment, 
Blest as the Gods who take their ease 
Under the shade of Nandan's trees. 
Each minstrel bade the saint adieu, 
And to his blissful mansion flew, 
And every stream and heavenly dame 
Returned as swiftly as she came. 



Canto XCII. Bharat's Farewell. 



So Bharat with his army spent 
The watches of the night content, 
And gladly, with the morning's light 
Drew near his host the anchorite. 
When Bharadvaja saw him stand 
With hand in reverence joined to hand, 
When fires of worship had been fed, 
He looked upon the prince and said: 
"O blameless son, I pray thee tell, 
Did the past night content thee well? 
Say if the feast my care supplied 
Thy host of followers gratified." 



Canto XCII. Bharat's Farewell. 703 

His hands he joined, his head he bent 
And spoke in answer reverent 
To the most high and radiant sage 
Who issued from his hermitage: 
"Well have I passed the night: thy feast 
Gave joy to every man and beast; 
And I, great lord, and every peer 
Were satisfied with sumptuous cheer, 
Thy banquet has delighted all 
From highest chief to meanest thrall, 
And rich attire and drink and meat 
Banished the thought of toil and heat. 
And now, O Hermit good and great, 
A boon of thee I supplicate. 
To Rama's side my steps I bend: 
Do thou with friendly eye commend. 
O tell me how to guide my feet 
To virtuous Rama's lone retreat: 
Great Hermit, I entreat thee, say 
How far from here and which the way." 

Thus by fraternal love inspired 
The chieftain of the saint inquired: 
Then thus replied the glorious seer 
Of matchless might, of vows austere: 
"Ere the fourth league from here be passed, 
Amid a forest wild and vast, 
Stands Chitrakuta's mountain tall, 
Lovely with wood and waterfall. 
North of the mountain thou wilt see 
The beauteous stream Mandakini, 
Where swarm the waterfowl below, 
And gay trees on the margin grow. 
Then will a leafy cot between 



704 The Ramayana 

The river and the hill be seen: 
'Tis Rama's, and the princely pair 
Of brothers live for certain there. 
Hence to the south thine army lead, 
And then more southward still proceed, 
So shalt thou find his lone retreat, 
And there the son of Raghu meet." 



Soon as the ordered march they knew, 
The widows of the monarch flew, 
Leaving their cars, most meet to ride, 
And flocked to Bharadvaja's side. 
There with the good Sumitra Queen 
Kausalya, sad and worn, was seen, 
Caressing, still with sorrow faint, 
The feet of that illustrious saint, 
Kaikeyi too, her longings crossed, 
Reproached of all, her object lost, 
[201] Before the famous hermit came, 

And clasped his feet, o'erwhelmed with shame. 

With circling steps she humbly went 

Around the saint preeminent, 

And stood not far from Bharat's side 

With heart oppressed, and heavy-eyed. 

Then the great seer, who never broke 

One holy vow, to Bharat spoke: 

"Speak, Raghu's son: I fain would learn 

The story of each queen in turn." 



Canto XCII. Bharat's Farewell. 705 

Obedient to the high request 
By Bharadvaja thus addressed, 
His reverent hands together laid, 
He, skilled in speech, his answer made: 
"She whom, O Saint, thou seest here 
A Goddess in her form appear, 
Was the chief consort of the king, 
Now worn with fast and sorrowing. 
As Aditi in days of yore 
The all-preserving Vishnu bore, 
Kausalya bore with happy fate 
Lord Rama of the lion's gait. 
She who, transfixed with torturing pangs, 
On her left arm so fondly hangs, 
As when her withering leaves decay 
Droops by the wood the Cassia spray, 
Sumitra, pained with woe, is she, 
The consort second of the three: 
Two princely sons the lady bare, 
Fair as the Gods in heaven are fair. 
And she, the wicked dame through whom 
My brothers' lives are wrapped in gloom, 
And mourning for his offspring dear, 
The king has sought his heavenly sphere, — 
Proud, foolish-hearted, swift to ire, 
Self-fancied darling of my sire, 
Kaikeyi, most ambitious queen, 
Unlovely with her lovely mien, 
My mother she, whose impious will 
Is ever bent on deeds of ill, 
In whom the root and spring I see 
Of all this woe which crushes me." 



706 The Ramayana 

Quick breathing like a furious snake, 
With tears and sobs the hero spake, 
With reddened eyes aglow with rage. 
And Bharadvaja, mighty sage, 
Supreme in wisdom, calm and grave, 
In words like these good counsel gave: 
"O Bharat, hear the words I say; 
On her the fault thou must not lay: 
For many a blessing yet will spring 
From banished Rama's wandering." 
And Bharat, with that promise cheered, 
Went circling round that saint revered, 
He humbly bade farewell, and then 
Gave orders to collect his men. 
Prompt at the summons thousands flew 
To cars which noble coursers drew, 
Bright-gleaming, glorious to behold, 
Adorned with wealth of burnished gold. 
Then female elephants and male, 
Gold-girthed, with flags that wooed the gale, 
Marched with their bright bells' tinkling chime 
Like clouds when ends the summer time: 
Some cars were huge and some were light, 
For heavy draught or rapid flight, 
Of costly price, of every kind, 
With clouds of infantry behind. 
The dames, Kausalya at their head, 
Were in the noblest chariots led, 
And every gentle bosom beat 
With hope the banished prince to meet. 
The royal Bharat, glory-crowned, 
With all his retinue around, 
Borne in a beauteous litter rode, 
Like the young moon and sun that glowed. 



Canto XCIII. Chitrakuta In Sight. 707 

The army as it streamed along, 
Cars, elephants, in endless throng, 
Showed, marching on its southward way, 
Like autumn clouds in long array. 



Canto XCIII. Chitrakuta In Sight. 

As through the woods its way pursued 
That mighty bannered multitude, 
Wild elephants in terror fled 
With all the startled herds they led, 
And bears and deer were seen on hill, 
In forest glade, by every rill. 
Wide as the sea from coast to coast, 
The high-souled Bharat's mighty host 
Covered the earth as cloudy trains 
Obscure the sky when fall the rains. 
The stately elephants he led, 
And countless steeds the land o'erspread, 
So closely crowded that between 
Their serried ranks no ground was seen. 
Then when the host had travelled far, 
And steeds were worn who drew the car, 
The glorious Bharat thus addressed 
Vasishtha, of his lords the best: 
"The spot, methinks, we now behold 
Of which the holy hermit told, 
For, as his words described, I trace 
Each several feature of the place: 
Before us Chitrakuta shows, 
Mandakini beside us flows: 



708 The Ramayana 

Afar umbrageous woods arise 
Like darksome clouds that veil the skies. 
Now tread these mountain-beasts of mine 
On Chitrakuta's fair incline. 
The trees their rain of blossoms shed 
On table-lands beneath them spread, 
As from black clouds the floods descend 
When the hot days of summer end. 
Satrughna, look, the mountain see 
[202] Where heavenly minstrels wander free, 

And horses browse beneath the steep, 
Countless as monsters in the deep. 
Scared by my host the mountain deer 
Starting with tempest speed appear 
Like the long lines of cloud that fly 
In autumn through the windy sky. 
See, every warrior shows his head 
With fragrant blooms engarlanded; 
All look like southern soldiers who 
Lift up their shields of azure hue. 
This lonely wood beneath the hill, 
That was so dark and drear and still, 
Covered with men in endless streams 
Now like Ayodhya's city seems. 
The dust which countless hoofs excite 
Obscures the sky and veils the light; 
But see, swift winds those clouds dispel 
As if they strove to please me well. 
See, guided in their swift career 
By many a skilful charioteer, 
Those cars by fleetest coursers drawn 
Race onward over glade and lawn. 
Look, startled as the host comes near 
The lovely peacocks fly in fear, 



Canto XCIII. Chitrakuta In Sight. 709 

Gorgeous as if the fairest blooms 
Of earth had glorified their plumes. 
Look where the sheltering covert shows 
The trooping deer, both bucks and does, 
That occupy in countless herds 
This mountain populous with birds. 
Most lovely to my mind appears 
This place which every charm endears: 
Fair as the road where tread the Blest; 
Here holy hermits take their rest. 
Then let the army onward press 
And duly search each green recess 
For the two lion-lords, till we 
Rama once more and Lakshman see." 

Thus Bharat spoke: and hero bands 
Of men with weapons in their hands 
Entered the tangled forest: then 
A spire of smoke appeared in ken. 
Soon as they saw the rising smoke 
To Bharat they returned and spoke: 
"No fire where men are not: 'tis clear 
That Raghu's sons are dwelling here. 
Or if not here those heroes dwell 
Whose mighty arms their foeman quell, 
Still other hermits here must be 
Like Rama, true and good as he." 

His ears attentive Bharat lent 
To their resistless argument, 
Then to his troops the chief who broke 
His foe's embattled armies spoke: 
"Here let the troops in silence stay; 
One step beyond they must not stray. 



710 The Ramayana 

Come Dhrishti and Sumantra, you 
With me alone the path pursue." 
Their leader's speech the warriors heard, 
And from his place no soldier stirred, 
And Bharat bent his eager eyes 
Where curling smoke was seen to rise. 

The host his order well obeyed, 
And halting there in silence stayed 
Watching where from the thicket's shade 

They saw the smoke appear. 
And joy through all the army ran, 
"Soon shall we meet," thought every man, 

"The prince we hold so dear." 



Canto XCIV. Chitrakuta. 



There long the son of Raghu dwelt 
And love for hill and wood he felt. 
Then his Videhan spouse to please 
And his own heart of woe to ease, 
Like some Immortal — Indra so 
Might Swarga's charms to Sachi show — 
Drew her sweet eyes to each delight 
Of Chitrakuta's lovely height: 
"Though reft of power and kingly sway, 
Though friends and home are far away, 
I cannot mourn my altered lot, 
Enamoured of this charming spot. 
Look, darling, on this noble hill 
Which sweet birds with their music fill, 



Canto XCIV. Chitrakuta. 7 1 1 

Bright with a thousand metal dyes 

His lofty summits cleave the skies. 

See, there a silvery sheen is spread, 

And there like blood the rocks are red. 

There shows a streak of emerald green, 

And pink and yellow glow between. 

There where the higher peaks ascend, 

Crystal and flowers and topaz blend, 

And others flash their light afar 

Like mercury or some fair star: 

With such a store of metals dyed 

The king of hills is glorified. 

There through the wild birds' populous home 

The harmless bear and tiger roam: 

Hyaenas range the woody slopes 

With herds of deer and antelopes. 

See, love, the trees that clothe his side 

All lovely in their summer pride, 

In richest wealth of leaves arrayed, 

With flower and fruit and light and shade, 

Look where the young Rose-apple glows; 

What loaded boughs the Mango shows; 

See, waving in the western wind 

The light leaves of the Tamarind, 

And mark that giant Peepul through 

The feathery clump of tall bamboo. 369 [203] 

Look, on the level lands above, 

Delighting in successful love 



which Carey and Marshman thus render: "This mountain adorned with mango, 
jumboo, usuna, lodhra, piala, punusa, dhava, unkotha, bhuvya, tinisha, vilwa, 
tindooka, bamboo, kashmaree, urista, uruna, madhooka, tilaka, vuduree, am- 
luka, nipa, vetra, dhunwuna, veejaka, and other trees affording flowers, and 
fruits, and the most delightful shade, how charming does it appear!" 



712 The Ramayana 

In sweet enjoyment many a pair 
Of heavenly minstrels revels there, 
While overhanging boughs support 
Their swords and mantles as they sport: 
Then see that pleasant shelter where 
Play the bright Daughters of the Air. 370 
The mountain seems with bright cascade 
And sweet rill bursting from the shade, 
Like some majestic elephant o'er 
Whose burning head the torrents pour. 
Where breathes the man who would not feel 
Delicious languor o'er him steal, 
As the young morning breeze that springs 
From the cool cave with balmy wings, 
Breathes round him laden with the scent 
Of bud and blossom dew-besprent? 
If many autumns here I spent 
With thee, my darling innocent, 
And Lakshman, I should never know 
The torture of the fires of woe, 
This varied scene so charms my sight, 
This mount so fills me with delight, 
Where flowers in wild profusion spring, 
And ripe fruits glow and sweet birds sing. 
My beauteous one, a double good 
Springs from my dwelling in the wood: 
Loosed is the bond my sire that tied, 
And Bharat too is gratified. 
My darling, dost thou feel with me 
Delight from every charm we see, 
Of which the mind and every sense 
Feel the enchanting influence? 



370 Vidyadharis, Spirits of Air, sylphs. 



Canto XCIV. Chitrakuta. 713 

My fathers who have passed away, 
The royal saints, were wont to say, 
That life in woodland shades like this 
Secures a king immortal bliss. 
See, round the hill at random thrown, 
Huge masses lie of rugged stone 
Of every shape and many a hue, 
Yellow and white and red and blue. 
But all is fairer still by night: 
Each rock reflects a softer light, 
When the whole mount from foot to crest 
In robes of lambent flame is dressed; 
When from a million herbs a blaze 
Of their own luminous glory plays, 
And clothed in fire each deep ravine, 
Each pinnacle and crag is seen. 
Some parts the look of mansions wear, 
And others are as gardens fair, 
While others seem a massive block 
Of solid undivided rock. 
Behold those pleasant beds o'erlaid 
With lotus leaves, for lovers made, 
Where mountain birch and costus throw 
Cool shadows on the pair below. 
See where the lovers in their play 
Have cast their flowery wreaths away, 
And fruit and lotus buds that crowned 
Their brows lie trodden on the ground. 
North Kuru's realm is fair to see, 
Vasvaukasara, 371 Nalini, 372 
But rich in fruit and blossom still 



371 A lake attached either to Amaravatf the residence of Indra, or Alaka that of 
Kuvera. 

372 



The Ganges of heaven. 



714 The Ramayana 

More fair is Chitrakuta's hill. 
Here shall the years appointed glide 
With thee, my beauty, by my side, 

And Lakshman ever near; 
Here shall I live in all delight, 
Make my ancestral fame more bright, 
Tread in their path who walk aright, 

And to my oath adhere." 



Canto XCV. Mandakini. 



Then Rama, like the lotus eyed, 
Descended from the mountain side, 
And to the Maithil lady showed 
The lovely stream that softly flowed. 
And thus Ayodhya's lord addressed 
His bride, of dames the loveliest, 
Child of Videha's king, her face 
Bright with the fair moon's tender grace: 
"How sweetly glides, O darling, look, 
Mandakinfs delightful brook, 
Adorned with islets, blossoms gay, 
[204] And sarases and swans at play ! 

The trees with which her banks are lined 

Show flowers and fruit of every kind: 

The match in radiant sheen is she 

Of King Kuvera's Nalini. 373 

My heart exults with pleasure new 

The shelving band and ford to view, 



373 Nalini, as here, may be the name of any lake covered with lotuses. 



Canto XCV. Mandakini. 715 

Where gathering herds of thirsty deer 

Disturb the wave that ran so clear. 

Now look, those holy hermits mark 

In skins of deer and coats of bark; 

With twisted coils of matted hair, 

The reverend men are bathing there, 

And as they lift their arms on high 

The Lord of Day they glorify: 

These best of saints, my large-eyed spouse, 

Are constant to their sacred vows. 

The mountain dances while the trees 

Bend their proud summits to the breeze, 

And scatter many a flower and bud 

From branches that o'erhang the flood. 

There flows the stream like lucid pearl, 

Round islets here the currents whirl, 

And perfect saints from middle air 

Are flocking to the waters there. 

See, there lie flowers in many a heap 

From boughs the whistling breezes sweep, 

And others wafted by the gale 

Down the swift current dance and sail. 

Now see that pair of wild-fowl rise, 

Exulting with their joyful cries: 

Hark, darling, wafted from afar 

How soft their pleasant voices are. 

To gaze on Chitrakuta's hill, 

To look upon this lovely rill, 

To bend mine eyes on thee, dear wife, 

Is sweeter than my city life. 

Come, bathe we in the pleasant rill 

Whose dancing waves are never still, 

Stirred by those beings pure from sin, 

The sanctities who bathe therein: 



716 The Ramayana 

Come, dearest, to the stream descend, 
Approach her as a darling friend, 
And dip thee in the silver flood 
Which lotuses and lilies stud. 
Let this fair hill Ayodhya seem, 
Its silvan things her people deem, 
And let these waters as they flow 
Our own beloved Sarjii show. 
How blest, mine own dear love, am I; 
Thou, fond and true, art ever nigh, 
And duteous, faithful Lakshman stays 
Beside me, and my word obeys. 
Here every day I bathe me thrice, 
Fruit, honey, roots for food suffice, 
And ne'er my thoughts with longing stray 
To distant home or royal sway. 
For who this charming brook can see 
Where herds of roedeer wander free, 
And on the flowery-wooded brink 
Apes, elephants, and lions drink, 

Nor feel all sorrow fly?" 
Thus eloquently spoke the pride 
Of Raghu's children to his bride, 
And wandered happy by her side 
Where Chitrakuta azure-dyed 

Uprears his peaks on high. 



Canto XCVI. The Magic Shaft. 374 



This canto is allowed, by Indian commentators, to be an interpolation. It 
cannot be the work of Valmfki. 



Canto XCVI. The Magic Shaft. 717 

Thus Rama showed to Janak's child 

The varied beauties of the wild, 

The hill, the brook and each fair spot, 

Then turned to seek their leafy cot. 

North of the mountain Rama found 

A cavern in the sloping ground, 

Charming to view, its floor was strown 

With many a mass of ore and stone, 

In secret shadow far retired 

Where gay birds sang with joy inspired, 

And trees their graceful branches swayed 

With loads of blossom downward weighed. 

Soon as he saw the cave which took 

Each living heart and chained the look, 

Thus Rama spoke to Sita who 

Gazed wondering on the silvan view: 

"Does this fair cave beneath the height, 

Videhan lady, charm thy sight? 

Then let us resting here a while 

The languor of the way beguile. 

That block of stone so smooth and square 

Was set for thee to rest on there, 

And like a thriving Kesar tree 

This flowery shrub o'ershadows thee." 

Thus Rama spoke, and Janak's child, 

By nature ever soft and mild, 

In tender words which love betrayed 

Her answer to the hero made: 

"O pride of Raghu's children, still 

My pleasure is to do thy will. 

Enough for me thy wish to know: 

Far hast thou wandered to and fro." 



718 The Ramayana 

Thus Sita spake in gentle tone, 
And went obedient to the stone, 
Of perfect face and faultless limb 
Prepared to rest a while with him. 
And Rama, as she thus replied, 
Turned to his spouse again and cried: 
"Thou seest, love, this flowery shade 
For silvan creatures' pleasure made, 
How the gum streams from trees and plants 
[205] Torn by the tusks of elephants! 

Through all the forest clear and high 

Resounds the shrill cicala's cry. 

Hark how the kite above us moans, 

And calls her young in piteous tones; 

So may my hapless mother be 

Still mourning in her home for me. 

There mounted on that lofty Sal 

The loud Bhringraj 375 repeats his call: 

How sweetly now he tunes his throat 

Responsive to the Koil's note. 

Or else the bird that now has sung 

May be himself the Koil's young, 

Linked with such winning sweetness are 

The notes he pours irregular. 

See, round the blooming Mango clings 

That creeper with her tender rings, 

So in thy love, when none is near, 

Thine arms are thrown round me, my dear." 

Thus in his joy he cried; and she, 
Sweet speaker, on her lover's knee, 
Of faultless limb and perfect face, 
Grew closer to her lord's embrace. 



375 A fine bird with a strong, sweet note, and great imitative powers. 



Canto XCVI. The Magic Shaft. 719 

Reclining in her husband's arms, 

A goddess in her wealth of charms, 

She filled his loving breast anew 

With mighty joy that thrilled him through. 

His finger on the rock he laid, 

Which veins of sanguine ore displayed, 

And painted o'er his darling's eyes 

The holy sign in mineral dyes. 

Bright on her brow the metal lay 

Like the young sun's first gleaming ray, 

And showed her in her beauty fair 

As the soft light of morning's air. 

Then from the Kesar's laden tree 

He picked fair blossoms in his glee, 

And as he decked each lovely tress, 

His heart o'erflowed with happiness. 

So resting on that rocky seat 

A while they spent in pastime sweet, 

Then onward neath the shady boughs 

Went Rama with his Maithil spouse. 

She roaming in the forest shade 

Where every kind of creature strayed 

Observed a monkey wandering near, 

And clung to Rama's arm in fear. 

The hero Rama fondly laced 

His mighty arms around her waist, 

Consoled his beauty in her dread, 

And scared the Monkey till he fled. 

That holy mark of sanguine ore 

That gleamed on Sita's brow before, 

Shone by that close embrace impressed 

Upon the hero's ample chest. 

Then Sita, when the beast who led 

The monkey troop, afar had fled, 



720 The Ramayana 

Laughed loudly in light-hearted glee 

That mark on Rama's chest to see. 

A clump of bright Asokas fired 

The forest in their bloom attired: 

The restless blossoms as they gleamed 

A host of threatening monkeys seemed. 

Then Sita thus to Rama cried, 

As longingly the flowers she eyed: 

"Pride of thy race, now let us go 

Where those Asoka blossoms grow." 

He on his darling's pleasure bent 

With his fair goddess thither went 

And roamed delighted through the wood 

Where blossoming Asokas stood, 

As Siva with Queen Uma roves 

Through Himavan's majestic groves. 

Bright with purpureal glow the pair 

Of happy lovers sported there, 

And each upon the other set 

A flower-inwoven coronet. 

There many a crown and chain they wove 

Of blooms from that Asoka grove, 

And in their graceful sport the two 

Fresh beauty o'er the mountain threw. 

The lover let his love survey 

Each pleasant spot that round them lay, 

Then turned they to their green retreat 

Where all was garnished, gay, and neat. 

By brotherly affection led, 

Sumitra's son to meet them sped, 

And showed the labours of the day 

Done while his brother was away. 

There lay ten black-deer duly slain 

With arrows pure of poison stain, 



Canto XCVI. The Magic Shaft. 721 

Piled in a mighty heap to dry, 

With many another carcass nigh. 

And Lakshman's brother saw, o'erjoyed, 

The work that had his hands employed, 

Then to his consort thus he cried: 

"Now be the general gifts supplied." 

Then Sita, fairest beauty, placed 

The food for living things to taste, 

And set before the brothers meat 

And honey that the pair might eat. 

They ate the meal her hands supplied, 

Their lips with water purified: 

Then Janak's daughter sat at last 

And duly made her own repast. 

The other venison, to be dried, 

Piled up in heaps was set aside, 

And Rama told his wife to stay 

And drive the flocking crows away. 

Her husband saw her much distressed 

By one more bold than all the rest, 

Whose wings where'er he chose could fly, 

Now pierce the earth, now roam the sky. 

Then Rama laughed to see her stirred 

To anger by the plaguing bird: 

Proud of his love the beauteous dame 

With burning rage was all aflame. 

Now here, now there, again, again 

She chased the crow, but all in vain, 

Enraging her, so quick to strike [206] 

With beak and wing and claw alike: 

Then how the proud lip quivered, how 

The dark frown marked her angry brow ! 

When Rama saw her cheek aglow 

With passion, he rebuked the crow. 



722 The Ramayana 

But bold in impudence the bird, 
With no respect for Rama's word, 
Fearless again at Sita flew: 
Then Rama's wrath to fury grew. 
The hero of the mighty arm 
Spoke o'er a shaft the mystic charm, 
Laid the dire weapon on his bow 
And launched it at the shameless crow. 
The bird, empowered by Gods to spring 
Through earth itself on rapid wing, 
Through the three worlds in terror fled 
Still followed by that arrow dread. 
Where'er he flew, now here now there, 
A cloud of weapons filled the air. 
Back to the high-souled prince he fled 
And bent at Rama's feet his head, 
And then, as Sita looked, began 
His speech in accents of a man: 
"O pardon, and for pity's sake 
Spare, Rama, spare my life to take! 
Where'er I turn, where'er I flee, 
No shelter from this shaft I see." 

The chieftain heard the crow entreat 
Helpless and prostrate at his feet, 
And while soft pity moved his breast, 
With wisest speech the bird addressed: 
"I took the troubled Sita's part, 
And furious anger filled my heart. 
Then on the string my arrow lay 
Charmed with a spell thy life to slay. 
Thou seekest now my feet, to crave 
Forgiveness and thy life to save. 
So shall thy prayer have due respect: 



Canto XCVII. Lakshman's Anger. 723 

The suppliant I must still protect. 
But ne'er in vain this dart may flee; 
Yield for thy life a part of thee, 
What portion of thy body, say, 
Shall this mine arrow rend away? 
Thus far, O bird, thus far alone 
On thee my pity may be shown. 
Forfeit a part thy life to buy: 
'Tis better so to live than die." 
Thus Rama spoke: the bird of air 
Pondered his speech with anxious care, 
And wisely deemed it good to give 
One of his eyes that he might live. 
To Raghu's son he made reply: 
"O Rama, I will yield an eye. 
So let me in thy grace confide 
And live hereafter single-eyed." 
Then Rama charged the shaft, and lo, 
Full in the eye it smote the crow. 
And the Videhan lady gazed 
Upon the ruined eye amazed. 
The crow to Rama humbly bent, 
Then where his fancy led he went. 
Rama with Lakshman by his side 
With needful work was occupied. 



Canto XCVII. Lakshman's Anger. 



724 The Ramayana 

Thus Rama showed his love the rill 

Whose waters ran beneath the hill, 

Then resting on his mountain seat 

Refreshed her with the choicest meat. 

So there reposed the happy two: 

Then Bharat's army nearer drew: 

Rose to the skies a dusty cloud, 

The sound of trampling feet was loud. 

The swelling roar of marching men 

Drove the roused tiger from his den, 

And scared amain the serpent race 

Flying to hole and hiding-place. 

The herds of deer in terror fled, 

The air was filled with birds o'erhead, 

The bear began to leave his tree, 

The monkey to the cave to flee. 

Wild elephants were all amazed 

As though the wood around them blazed. 

The lion oped his ponderous jaw, 

The buffalo looked round in awe. 

The prince, who heard the deafening sound, 

And saw the silvan creatures round 

Fly wildly startled from their rest, 

The glorious Lakshman thus addressed: 

"Sumitra's noble son most dear, 

Hark, Lakshman, what a roar I hear, 

The tumult of a coming crowd, 

Appalling, deafening, deep, and loud! 

The din that yet more fearful grows 

Scares elephants and buffaloes, 

Or frightened by the lions, deer 

Are flying through the wood in fear. 

I fain would know who seeks this place 

Comes prince or monarch for the chase? 



Canto XCVII. Lakshman's Anger. 725 

Or does some mighty beast of prey 
Frighten the silvan herds away? 
Tis hard to reach this mountain height, 
Yea, e'en for birds in airy flight. 
Then fain, O Lakshman, would I know 
What cause disturbs the forest so." 

Lakshman in haste, the wood to view, 
Climbed a high Sal that near him grew, 
The forest all around he eyed, 
First gazing on the eastern side. 
Then northward when his eyes he bent 
He saw a mighty armament 
Of elephants, and cars, and horse, 
And men on foot, a mingled force, 
And banners waving in the breeze, 
And spoke to Rama words like these: 
"Quick, quick, my lord, put out the fire, 

Let Sita to the cave retire. [207] 

Thy coat of mail around thee throw, 
Prepare thine arrows and thy bow." 

In eager haste thus Lakshman cried, 
And Rama, lion lord, replied: 
"Still closer be the army scanned, 
And say who leads the warlike band." 
Lakshman his answer thus returned, 
As furious rage within him burned, 
Exciting him like kindled fire 
To scorch the army in his ire: 
"Tis Bharat: he has made the throne 
By consecrating rites his own: 
To gain the whole dominion thus 
He comes in arms to slaughter us. 



726 The Ramayana 

I mark tree-high upon his car 

His flagstaff of the Kovidar, 376 

I see his glittering banner glance, 

I see his chivalry advance: 

I see his eager warriors shine 

On elephants in lengthened line. 

Now grasp we each the shafts and bow, 

And higher up the mountain go. 

Or in this place, O hero, stand 

With weapons in each ready hand. 

Perhaps beneath our might may fall 

This leader of the standard tall, 

And Bharat I this day may see 

Who brought this mighty woe on thee, 

Sita, and me, who drove away 

My brother from the royal sway. 

Bharat our foe at length is nigh, 

And by this hand shall surely die: 

Brother, I see no sin at all 

If Bharat by my weapon fall. 

No fault is his who slays the foe 

Whose hand was first to strike the blow: 

With Bharat now the crime begins 

Who against thee and duty sins. 

The queen athirst for royal sway 

Will see her darling son to-day 

Fall by this hand, like some fair tree 

Struck by an elephant, slain by me. 

Kaikeyfs self shall perish too 

With kith and kin and retinue, 

And earth by my avenging deed 

Shall from this mass of sin be freed. 



376 Bauhinea variegata, a species of ebony. 



Canto XCVIII. Lakshman Calmed. 727 

This day my wrath, too long restrained, 
Shall fall upon the foe, unchained, 
Mad as the kindled flame that speeds 
Destroying through the grass and reeds. 
This day mine arrows keen and fierce 
The bodies of the foe shall pierce: 
The woods on Chitrakuta's side 
Shall run with torrents crimson-dyed. 
The wandering beasts of prey shall feed 
On heart-cleft elephant and steed, 
And drag to mountain caves away 
The bodies that my arrows slay. 
Doubt not that Bharat and his train 
Shall in this mighty wood be slain: 
So shall I pay the debt my bow 
And these my deadly arrows owe." 



Canto XCVIII. Lakshman Calmed. 



Then Rama nobly calm allayed 
The wrath that Lakshman's bosom swayed: 
"What need have we the sword to wield, 
To bend the bow or lift the shield, 
If Bharat brave, and wise, and good, 
Himself has sought this sheltering wood? 
I sware my father's will to do, 
And if I now my brother slew 
What gain in kingship should I find, 
Despised and scorned by all mankind? 
Believe me, e'en as I would shrink 
From poisoned meat or deadly drink, 



728 The Ramayana 

No power or treasure would I win 

By fall of friend or kith or kin. 

Brother, believe the words I speak: 

For your dear sakes alone I seek 

Duty and pleasure, wealth and gain: 

A holy life, a happy reign. 

If royal sway my heart desires, 

My brothers' weal the wish inspires: 

Their bliss and safety is my care, 

By this uplifted bow I swear. 

Twere not so hard for me to gain 

This broad land girdled by the main, 

But even Indra's royal might 

Should ne'er be mine in duty's spite. 

If any bliss my soul can see 

Deprived of dear Satrughna, thee, 

And Bharat, may the flame destroy 

With ashy gloom the selfish joy. 

Far dearer than this life of mine, 

Knowing the custom of our line, 

His heart with fond affection fraught, 

Bharat Ayodhya's town resought 

And hearing when he came that I, 

With thee and Sita, forced to fly 

With matted hair and hermit dress 

Am wandering in the wilderness. 

While grief his troubled senses storms, 

And tender love his bosom warms, 

From every thought of evil clear, 

Is come to meet his brother here. 

Some grievous words perchance he spoke 

Kaikeyfs anger to provoke, 

Then won the king, and comes to lay 

Before my feet the royal sway. 



Canto XCVIII. Lakshman Calmed. 729 

Hither, methinks, in season due 

Comes Bharat for an interview, 

Nor in his secret heart has he 

One evil thought 'gainst thee or me. 

What has he done ere now, reflect! 

How failed in love or due respect [208] 

To make thee doubt his faith and lay 

This evil to his charge to-day? 

Thou shouldst not join with Bharat's name 

So harsh a speech and idle blame. 

The blows thy tongue at Bharat deals, 

My sympathizing bosom feels. 

How, urged by stress of any ill, 

Should sons their father's life-blood spill, 

Or brother slay in impious strife 

A brother dearer than his life? 

If thou these cruel words hast said 

By strong desire of empire led, 

My brother Bharat will I pray 

To give to thee the kingly sway. 

"Give him the realm," my speech shall be, 

And Bharat will, methinks, agree." 

Thus spoke the prince whose chief delight 
Was duty, and to aid the right: 
And Lakshman keenly felt the blame, 
And shrank within himself for shame: 
And then his answer thus returned, 
With downcast eye and cheek that burned: 
"Brother, I ween, to see thy face 
Our sire himself has sought this place." 
Thus Lakshman spoke and stood ashamed, 
And Rama saw and thus exclaimed: 
"It is the strong-armed monarch: he 



730 The Ramayana 

Is come, methinks, his sons to see, 
To bid us both the forest quit 
For joys for which he deems us fit: 
He thinks on all our care and pain, 
And now would lead us home again. 
My glorious father hence will bear 
Sita who claims all tender care. 
I see two coursers fleet as storms, 
Of noble breed and lovely forms. 
I see the beast of mountain size 
Who bears the king our father wise, 
The aged Victor, march this way 
In front of all the armed array. 
But doubt and fear within me rise, 
For when I look with eager eyes 
I see no white umbrella spread, 
World-famous, o'er the royal head. 
Now, Lakshman, from the tree descend, 
And to my words attention lend." 

Thus spoke the pious prince: and he 
Descended from the lofty tree, 
And reverent hand to hand applied, 
Stood humbly by his brother's side. 

The host, compelled by Bharat's care, 
The wood from trampling feet to spare, 
Dense crowding half a league each way 
Encamped around the mountain lay. 
Below the tall hill's shelving side 
Gleamed the bright army far and wide 

Spread o'er the ample space, 
By Bharat led who firmly true 
In duty from his bosom threw 



Canto XCIX. Bharat's Approach. 73 1 

All pride, and near his brother drew 
To win the hero's grace. 



Canto XCIX. Bharat's Approach. 



Soon as the warriors took their rest 
Obeying Bharat's high behest, 
Thus Bharat to Satrughna spake: 
"A band of soldiers with thee take, 
And with these hunters o'er and o'er 
The thickets of the wood explore. 
With bow, sword, arrows in their hands 
Let Guha with his kindred bands 
Within this grove remaining trace 
The children of Kakutstha's race. 
And I meanwhile on foot will through 
This neighbouring wood my way pursue, 
With elders and the twice-born men, 
And every lord and citizen. 
There is, I feel, no rest for me 
Till Rama's face again I see, 
Lakshman, in arms and glory great, 
And Sita born to happy fate: 
No rest, until his cheek as bright 
As the fair moon rejoice my sight, 
No rest until I see the eye 
With which the lotus petals vie; 
Till on my head those dear feet rest 
With signs of royal rank impressed; 
None, till my kingly brother gain 
His old hereditary reign, 



732 The Ramayana 

Till o'er his limbs and noble head 
The consecrating drops be shed. 
How blest is Janak's daughter, true 
To every wifely duty, who 
Cleaves faithful to her husband's side 
Whose realm is girt by Ocean's tide! 
This mountain too above the rest 
E'en as the King of Hills is blest, — 
Whose shades Kakutstha's scion hold 
As Nandan charms the Lord of Gold. 
Yea, happy is this tangled grove 
Where savage beasts unnumbered rove, 
Where, glory of the Warrior race, 
King Rama finds a dwelling-place." 

Thus Bharat, strong-armed hero spake, 
And walked within the pathless brake. 
O'er plains where gay trees bloomed he went, 
Through boughs in tangled net-work bent, 
And then from Rama's cot appeared 
The banner which the flame upreared. 
And Bharat joyed with every friend 
To mark those smoky wreaths ascend: 
"Here Rama dwells," he thought; "at last 
The ocean of our toil is passed." 

Then sure that Rama's hermit cot 
Was on the mountain's side 

He stayed his army on the spot, 
And on with Guha hied. 



[209] 



Canto C. The Meeting. 733 

Canto C. The Meeting. 

Then Bharat to Satrughna showed 
The spot, and eager onward strode, 
First bidding Saint Vasishtha bring 
The widowed consorts of the king. 
As by fraternal love impelled 
His onward course the hero held, 
Sumantra followed close behind 
Satrughna with an anxious mind: 
Not Bharat's self more fain could be 
To look on Rama's face than he. 
As, speeding on, the spot he neared, 
Amid the hermits' homes appeared 
His brother's cot with leaves o'erspread, 
And by its side a lowly shed. 
Before the shed great heaps were left 
Of gathered flowers and billets cleft, 
And on the trees hung grass and bark 
Rama and Lakshman's path to mark: 
And heaps of fuel to provide 
Against the cold stood ready dried. 
The long-armed chief, as on he went 
In glory's light preeminent, 
With joyous words like these addressed 
The brave Satrughna and the rest: 
"This is the place, I little doubt, 
Which Bharadvaja pointed out, 
Not far from where we stand must be 
The woodland stream, Mandakini. 
Here on the mountain's woody side 
Roam elephants in tusked pride, 
And ever with a roar and cry 
Each other, as they meet, defy. 



734 The Ramayana 

And see those smoke-wreaths thick and dark: 

The presence of the flame they mark, 

Which hermits in the forest strive 

By every art to keep alive. 

O happy me! my task is done, 

And I shall look on Raghu's son, 

Like some great saint, who loves to treat 

His elders with all reverence meet." 

Thus Bharat reached that forest rill, 
Thus roamed on Chitrakuta's hill; 
Then pity in his breast awoke, 
And to his friends the hero spoke: 
"Woe, woe upon my life and birth! 
The prince of men, the lord of earth 
Has sought the lonely wood to dwell 
Sequestered in a hermit's cell. 
Through me, through me these sorrows fall 
On him the splendid lord of all: 
Through me resigning earthly bliss 
He hides him in a home like this. 
Now will I, by the world abhorred, 
Fall at the dear feet of my lord, 
And at fair Sita's too, to win 
His pardon for my heinous sin." 

As thus he sadly mourned and sighed, 
The son of Dasaratha spied 
A bower of leafy branches made, 
Sacred and lovely in the shade, 
Of fair proportions large and tall, 
Well roofed with boughs of palm, and Sal, 
Arranged in order due o'erhead 
Like grass upon an altar spread. 



Canto C. The Meeting. 735 

Two glorious bows were gleaming there, 
Like Indra's 377 in the rainy air, 
Terror of foemen, backed with gold, 
Meet for the mightiest hand to hold: 
And quivered arrows cast a blaze 
Bright gleaming like the Day-God's rays: 
Thus serpents with their eyes aglow 
Adorn their capital below. 378 
Great swords adorned the cottage, laid 
Each in a case of gold brocade; 
There hung the trusty shields, whereon 
With purest gold the bosses shone. 
The brace to bind the bowman's arm, 
The glove to shield his hand from harm, 
A lustre to the cottage lent 
From many a golden ornament: 
Safe was the cot from fear of men 
As from wild beasts the lion's den. 
The fire upon the altar burned, 
That to the north and east was turned. 
Bharat his eager glances bent 
And gazed within the cot intent; 
In deerskin dress, with matted hair, 
Rama his chief was sitting there: 
With lion- shoulders broad and strong, 
With lotus eyes, arms thick and long. 
The righteous sovereign, who should be 
Lord paramount from sea to sea, 
High-minded, born to lofty fate, 
Like Brahma's self supremely great; 
With Lakshman by his side, and her, 
Fair Sita, for his minister. 



378 Bhogavati, the abode of the Nagas or Serpent race. 



736 The Ramayana 

And Bharat gazing, overcome 
By sorrow for a while was dumb, 
Then, yielding to his woe, he ran 
To Rama and with sobs began: 
"He who a royal seat should fill 
With subjects round to do his will, 
My elder brother, — see him here, 
With silvan creatures waiting near. 
The high-souled hero, wont to wear 
The costliest robes exceeding fair, 
Now banished, in a deerskin dress, 
Here keeps the path of righteousness. 
How brooks the son of Raghu now 
The matted locks which load his brow, 
Around whose princely head were twined 
Sweet blossoms of the rarest kind? 
[210] The prince whose merits grew, acquired 

By rites performed as he desired, 
Would now a store of merit gain 
Bought by his body's toil and pain. 
Those limbs to which pure sandal lent 
The freshness of its fragrant scent, 
Exposed to sun, and dust, and rain, 
Are now defiled with many a stain. 
And I the wretched cause why this 
Falls on the prince whose right is bliss! 
Ah me, that ever I was born 
To be the people's hate and scorn!" 

Thus Bharat cried: of anguish sprung, 
Great drops upon his forehead hung. 
He fell o'erpowered — his grief was such — 
Ere he his brother's feet could touch. 
As on the glorious prince he gazed 



Canto CI. Bharata Questioned. 737 

In vain his broken voice he raised: 
"Dear lord" — through tears and sobbing came, 
The only words his lips could frame. 
And brave Satrughna wept aloud, 
As low at Rama's feet he bowed. 
Then Rama, while his tears ran fast, 
His arms around his brothers cast. 
Guha, Sumantra came to meet 
The princes in their wild retreat. 
Vrihaspati and Sukra bright 

Their greeting thus rejoice to pay 
To the dear Lord who brings the night, 

And the great God who rules the day. 
Then wept the dwellers of the shade, 

Whose eyes the princes, meet to ride 
On mighty elephants, surveyed; 
And cast all thought of joy aside. 



Canto CI. Bharata Questioned. 

Then Rama gazed, and scarcely knew 
Bharat so worn and changed in hue. 
He raised him, kissed him on the head, 
Embraced him, and thus kindly said: 
"Where was thy father, brother dear, 
That thou art come to seek me here? 
Unmeet, if he be living yet, 
Thy feet within the wood to set. 
I pray thee now the cause declare 
Why thou hast left the kingdom there, 
With matted locks and deerskin dress 
To roam the distant wilderness." 



738 The Ramayana 

Thus questioned by the prince, at length 
Kaikeyfs son regained his strength, 
And hand to hand in reverence laid, 
To Rama thus his answer made: 
"The great-armed monarch, O my lord, 
Has dared to do a thing abhorred, 
Left us, and grieving for his son, 
A home among the Gods has won. 
My mother Queen Kaikeyi gave 
The order to the king her slave, 
And at the bidding of the dame 
He wrought the sin which mars his fame. 
Athirst for sway, her hopes are crossed, 
She mourns her son, her husband lost, 
And through her impious crime will go 
For punishment to hell below. 
Now O my lord, forgive me all; 
Be gracious to thy lowly thrall: 
Anointed king, accept to-day 
Like Indra's self, the royal sway. 
Be gracious, Prince, to lord and peer, 
And widowed queens who seek thee here 
Accept the kingdom thine by right, 
And so thy faithful friends delight. 
Let the broad land no longer be 
All widowed and forlorn of thee: 
Let the full moon of autumn reign 
Triumphant o'er the night again. 
These lords and I before thee bend: 
O Rama, to our prayer attend. 
O do not thou this grace deny: 
Thy brother, pupil, slave am I. 
Look on this venerable ring, 
Advisers of our sire the king, 



Canto CI. Bharata Questioned. 739 

From age to age so honoured: thou 
Shouldst grant their supplication now." 

As weeping thus the hero prayed, 
His head at Rama's feet he laid. 
Like a mad elephant he sighed: 
And Rama gazed and thus replied: 
"How, brother, can a man of worth, 
True to his vows, of noble birth — 
A man like me, commit a sin 
The lordship of the land to win? 
No slightest shade of fault I see, 
O tamer of thy foes, in thee. 
But ne'er shouldst thou in childish thought 
The queen thy mother blame in aught. 
O brother wise and sinless, know 
The sacred laws would have it so, 
That from good wife and son require 
Obedience to their lord and sire. 
And we are all the king's, for thus 
The virtuous ever reckon us: 
Yea brother, be it known to thee, 
His wives, and sons, and pupils we. 
His is the right, if he deem fit, 
To bid me, throned as monarch, sit, 
Or in a coat of bark expel, 
And deerskin, in the wood to dwell. 
And O remember, best of all 
Who act as claims of duty call, 
As to a virtuous sire is due, 
Such honour claims a mother too. 
So they whose lives have ever been 
By duty led, the king and queen, 
Said, "Rama, seek the forest shade:" 



740 The Ramayana 

And I (what could I else?) obeyed. 
[2ii] Thou must the royal power retain, 

And o'er the famed Ayodhya reign: 
I dressed in bark my days will spend 
Where Dandak's forest wilds extend. 
So Dasaratha spoke, our king, 
His share to each apportioning 
Before his honoured servants' eyes: 
Then, heir of bliss, he sought the skies. 
The righteous monarch's honoured will, 
Whom all revered, must guide thee still, 
And thou must still enjoy the share 
Assigned thee by our father's care. 
So I till twice seven years are spent 
Will roam this wood in banishment, 
Contented with the lot which he, 
My high-souled sire, has given me. 
The charge the monarch gave, endeared 
To all mankind, by all revered, 

Peer of the Lord Supreme, 
Far better, richer far in gain 
Of every blessing than to reign 

O'er all the worlds I deem." 



Canto CII. Bharat's Tidings. 

He spoke: and Bharat thus replied: 
"If, false to every claim beside, 
I ne'er in kingly duties fail, 
What will my royal life avail? 
Still should the custom be observed, 



Canto CIII. The Funeral Libation. 741 

From which our line has never swerved, 

Which to the younger son ne'er gives 

The kingdom while the elder lives. 

Now to Ayodhya rich and fair 

With me, O Raghu's son, repair, 

And to protect and gladden all 

Our house, thyself as king install. 

A king the world's opinion deems 

A man: to me a God he seems, 

Whose life in virtuous thoughts and deeds 

The lives of other men exceeds. 

When I in distant Kekaya stayed, 

And thou hadst sought the forest shade, 

Our father died, the saints' delight, 

So constant in each holy rite. 

Scarce with thy wife and Lakshman thou 

Hadst journeyed forth to keep the vow, 

When mourning for his son, forspent, 

To heavenly rest the monarch went. 

Then up, O lord of men, away! 

His funeral rites of water pay: 

I and Satrughna, ere we came, 

Neglected not the sacred claim. 

But in the spirit-world, they say, 

That gift alone is fresh for aye 

Which best beloved hands have poured; 

And thou his dearest art, my lord. 

For thee he longed, for thee he grieved, 

His every thought on thee was bent, 
And crushed by woe, of thee bereaved, 

He thought of thee as hence he went." 



742 The Ramayana 

Canto OIL The Funeral Libation. 

When Rama heard from Bharat each 
Dark sorrow of his mournful speech, 
And tidings of his father dead, 
His spirits fell, his senses fled. 
For the sad words his brother spoke 
Struck on him like a thunder stroke, 
Fierce as the bolt which Indra throws, 
The victor of his Daitya foes. 
Raising his arms in anguish, he, 
As when the woodman hews a tree 
With its fair flowery branches crowned, 
Fainted and fell upon the ground. 
Lord of the earth to earth he sank, 
Helpless, as when a towering bank 
With sudden ruin buries deep 
An elephant who lay asleep. 
Then swift his wife and brothers flew, 
And water, weeping, o'er him threw. 
As slowly sense and strength he gained, 
Fast from his eyes the tears he rained, 
And then in accents sad and weak 
Kakutstha's son began to speak, 
And mourning for the monarch dead, 
With righteous words to Bharat said: 
"What calls me home, when he, alas, 
Has gone the way which all must pass? 
Of him, the best of kings bereft 
What guardian has Ayodhya left? 
How may I please his spirit? how 
Delight the high-souled monarch now, 
Who wept for me and went above 
By me ungraced with mourning love? 



Canto CIII. The Funeral Libation. 743 

Ah, happy brothers ! you have paid 
Due offerings to his parting shade. 
E'en when my banishment is o'er, 
Back to my home I go no more, 
To look upon the widowed state 
Reft of her king, disconsolate. 
E'en then, O tamer of the foe, 
If to Ayodhya's town I go, 
Who will direct me as of old, 
Now other worlds our father hold? 
From whom, my brother, shall I hear 
Those words which ever charmed mine ear 
And filled my bosom with delight 
Whene'er he saw me act aright?" 

Thus Rama spoke: then nearer came 
And looking on his moonbright dame, 
"Sita, the king is gone," he said: 

"And Lakshman, know thy sire is dead, [212] 

And with the Gods on high enrolled: 
This mournful news has Bharat told." 
He spoke: the noble youths with sighs 
Rained down the torrents from their eyes. 
And then the brothers of the chief 
With words of comfort soothed his grief: 
"Now to the king our sire who swayed 
The earth be due libations paid." 
Soon as the monarch's fate she knew, 
Sharp pangs of grief smote Sita through: 
Nor could she look upon her lord 
With eyes from which the torrents poured. 
And Rama strove with tender care 
To soothe the weeping dame's despair, 
And then, with piercing woe distressed, 



744 The Ramayana 

The mournful Lakshman thus addressed: 
"Brother, I pray thee bring for me 
The pressed fruit of the Ingudi, 
And a bark mantle fresh and new, 
That I may pay this offering due. 
First of the three shall Sita go, 
Next thou, and I the last: for so 
Moves the funereal pomp of woe." 379 

Sumantra of the noble mind, 
Gentle and modest, meek and kind, 
Who, follower of each princely youth, 
To Rama clung with constant truth, 
Now with the royal brothers' aid 
The grief of Rama soothed and stayed, 
And lent his arm his lord to guide 
Down to the river's holy side. 
That lovely stream the heroes found, 
With woods that ever blossomed crowned, 
And there in bitter sorrow bent 
Their footsteps down the fair descent. 
Then where the stream that swiftly flowed 
A pure pellucid shallow showed, 
The funeral drops they duly shed, 
And "Father, this be thine," they said. 
But he, the lord who ruled the land, 
Filled from the stream his hollowed hand, 
And turning to the southern side 
Stretched out his arm and weeping cried: 
"This sacred water clear and pure, 



379 "jjj e orc j er f the procession on these occasions is that the children pre- 
cede according to age, then the women and after that the men according 
to age, the youngest first and the eldest last: when they descend into the 
water this is reversed and resumed when they come out of it." CAREY AND 
MARSHMAN.{FNS 



Canto CIII. The Funeral Libation. 745 

An offering which shall aye endure 
To thee, O lord of kings, I give: 
Accept it where the spirits live!" 

Then, when the solemn rite was o'er, 
Came Rama to the river shore, 
And offered, with his brothers' aid, 
Fresh tribute to his father's shade. 
With jujube fruit he mixed the seed 
Of Ingudis from moisture freed, 
And placed it on a spot o'erspread 
With sacred grass, and weeping said: 
"Enjoy, great King, the cake which we 
Thy children eat and offer thee! 
For ne'er do blessed Gods refuse 
To share the food which mortals use." 

Then Rama turned him to retrace 
The path that brought him to the place, 
And up the mountain's pleasant side 
Where lovely lawns lay fair, he hied. 
Soon as his cottage door he gained 
His brothers to his breast he strained. 
From them and Sita in their woes 
So loud the cry of weeping rose, 
That like the roar of lions round 
The mountain rolled the echoing sound. 
And Bharat's army shook with fear 
The weeping of the chiefs to hear. 
"Bharat," the soldiers cried, "'tis plain, 
His brother Rama meets again, 
And with these cries that round us ring 
They sorrow for their sire the king." 
Then leaving car and wain behind, 



746 The Ramayana 

One eager thought in every mind, 

Swift toward the weeping, every man, 

As each could find a passage, ran. 

Some thither bent their eager course 

With car, and elephant, and horse, 

And youthful captains on their feet 

With longing sped their lord to meet, 

As though the new-come prince had been 

An exile for long years unseen. 

Earth beaten in their frantic zeal 

By clattering hoof and rumbling wheel, 

Sent forth a deafening noise as loud 

As heaven when black with many a cloud. 

Then, with their consorts gathered near, 

Wild elephants in sudden fear 

Rushed to a distant wood, and shed 

An odour round them as they fled. 

And every silvan thing that dwelt 

Within those shades the terror felt, 

Deer, lion, tiger, boar and roe, 

Bison, wild-cow, and buffalo. 

And when the tumult wild they heard, 

With trembling pinions flew each bird, 

From tree, from thicket, and from lake, 

Swan, koil, curlew, crane, and drake. 

With men the ground was overspread, 

With startled birds the sky o'erhead. 

Then on his sacrificial ground 

The sinless, glorious chief was found. 

Loading with curses deep and loud 

The hump-back and the queen, the crowd 

Whose cheeks were wet, whose eyes were dim, 

In fond affection ran to him. 

While the big tears their eyes bedewed, 



Canto CIV. The Meeting With The Queens. 747 

He looked upon the multitude, [213] 

And then as sire and mother do, 
His arms about his loved ones threw. 
Some to his feet with reverence pressed, 

Some in his arms he strained: 
Each friend, with kindly words addressed, 

Due share of honour gained. 
Then, by their mighty woe o'ercome, 

The weeping heroes' cry 
Filled, like the roar of many a drum, 
Hill, cavern, earth, and sky. 



Canto CIV. The Meeting With The Queens. 

Vasishtha with his soul athirst 
To look again on Rama, first 
In line the royal widows placed, 
And then the way behind them traced. 
The ladies moving, faint and slow, 
Saw the fair stream before them flow, 
And by the bank their steps were led 
Which the two brothers visited. 
Kausalya with her faded cheek 
And weeping eyes began to speak, 
And thus in mournful tones addressed 
The queen Sumitra and the rest: 
"See in the wood the bank's descent, 
Which the two orphan youths frequent, 
Whose noble spirits never fall, 
Though woes surround them, reft of all. 
Thy son with love that never tires 



748 The Ramayana 

Draws water hence which mine requires. 

This day, for lowly toil unfit, 

His pious task thy son should quit." 

As on the long-eyed lady strayed, 
On holy grass, whose points were laid 
Directed to the southern sky, 
The funeral offering met her eye. 
When Rama's humble gift she spied 
Thus to the queens Kausalya cried: 
"The gift of Rama's hand behold, 
His tribute to the king high-souled, 
Offered to him, as texts require, 
Lord of Ikshvaku's line, his sire! 
Not such I deem the funeral food 
Of kings with godlike might endued. 
Can he who knew all pleasures, he 
Who ruled the earth from sea to sea, 
The mighty lord of monarchs, feed 
On Ingudi's extracted seed? 
In all the world there cannot be 
A woe, I ween, more sad to see, 
Than that my glorious son should make 
His funeral gift of such a cake. 
The ancient text I oft have heard 
This day is true in every word: 
"Ne'er do the blessed Gods refuse 
To eat the food their children use.' " 

The ladies soothed the weeping dame: 
To Rama's hermitage they came, 
And there the hero met their eyes 
Like a God fallen from the skies. 
Him joyless, reft of all, they viewed, 



Canto CIV. The Meeting With The Queens. 749 

And tears their mournful eyes bedewed. 

The truthful hero left his seat, 

And clasped the ladies' lotus feet, 

And they with soft hands brushed away 

The dust that on his shoulders lay. 

Then Lakshman, when he saw each queen 

With weeping eyes and troubled mien, 

Near to the royal ladies drew 

And paid them gentle reverence too. 

He, Dasaratha's offspring, signed 

The heir of bliss by Fortune kind, 

Received from every dame no less 

Each mark of love and tenderness. 

And Sita came and bent before 

The widows, while her eyes ran o'er, 

And pressed their feet with many a tear. 

They when they saw the lady dear 

Pale, worn with dwelling in the wild, 

Embraced her as a darling child: 

"Daughter of royal Janak, bride 

Of Dasaratha's son," they cried, 

"How couldst thou, offspring of a king, 

Endure this woe and suffering 

In the wild forest? When I trace 

Each sign of trouble on thy face — 

That lotus which the sun has dried, 

That lily by the tempest tried, 

That gold whereon the dust is spread, 

That moon whence all the light is fled — 

Sorrow assails my heart, alas! 

As fire consumes the wood and grass." 

Then Rama, as she spoke distressed, 
The feet of Saint Vasishtha pressed, 



750 The Ramayana 

Touched them with reverential love, 

Then near him took his seat: 
Thus Indra clasps in realms above 

The Heavenly Teacher's 380 feet. 
Then with each counsellor and peer, 

Bharat of duteous mind, 
With citizens and captains near, 

Sat humbly down behind. 
When with his hands to him upraised, 

In devotee's attire, 
Bharat upon his brother gazed 

Whose glory shone like fire, 
As when the pure Mahendra bends 

To the great Lord of Life, 
Among his noble crowd of friends 

This anxious thought was rife: 
"What words to Raghu's son to-day 

Will royal Bharat speak, 
Whose heart has been so prompt to pay 

Obeisance fond and meek?" 
Then steadfast Rama, Lakshman wise, 
[214] Bharat for truth renowned, 

Shone like three fires that heavenward rise 
With holy priests around. 



Canto CV. Rama's Speech. 



380 Vrihaspati, the preceptor of the Gods. 



Canto CV. Rama's Speech. 751 

A while they sat, each lip compressed, 
Then Bharat thus his chief addressed: 
"My mother here was made content; 
To me was given the government. 
This now, my lord, I yield to thee: 
Enjoy it, from all trouble free. 
Like a great bridge the floods have rent, 
Impetuous in their wild descent, 
All other hands but thine in vain 
Would strive the burthen to maintain. 
In vain the ass with steeds would vie, 
With Tarkshya, 381 birds that wing the sky; 
So, lord of men, my power is slight 
To rival thine imperial might. 
Great joys his happy days attend 
On whom the hopes of men depend, 
But wretched is the life he leads 
Who still the aid of others needs. 
And if the seed a man has sown, 
With care and kindly nurture grown, 
Rear its huge trunk and spring in time 
Too bulky for a dwarf to climb, 
Yet, with perpetual blossom gay, 
No fruit upon its boughs display, 
Ne'er can that tree, thus nursed in vain, 
Approval of the virtuous gain. 
The simile is meant to be 
Applied, O mighty-armed, to thee, 
Because, our lord and leader, thou 
Protectest not thy people now. 
O, be the longing wish fulfilled 
Of every chief of house and guild, 



Garud, the king of birds. 



752 The Ramayana 

To see again their sun-bright lord 
Victorious to his realm restored! 
As thou returnest through the crowd 
Let roars of elephants be loud. 
And each fair woman lift her voice 
And in her new-found king rejoice." 

The people all with longing moved, 
The words that Bharat spoke approved, 
And crowding near to Rama pressed 
The hero with the same request. 
The steadfast Rama, when he viewed 
His glorious brother's mournful mood, 
With each ambitious thought controlled, 
Thus the lamenting prince consoled: 
"I cannot do the things I will, 
For Rama is but mortal still. 
Fate with supreme, resistless law 
This way and that its slave will draw, 
All gathered heaps must waste away, 
All lofty lore and powers decay. 
Death is the end of life, and all, 
Now firmly joined, apart must fall. 
One fear the ripened fruit must know, 
To fall upon the earth below; 
So every man who draws his breath 
Must fear inevitable death. 
The pillared mansion, high, compact, 
Must fall by Time's strong hand attacked; 
So mortal men, the gradual prey 
Of old and ruthless death, decay. 
The night that flies no more returns: 
Yamuna for the Ocean yearns: 
Swift her impetuous waters flee, 



Canto CV. Rama's Speech. 753 

But roll not backward from the sea. 
The days and nights pass swiftly by 
And steal our moments as they fly, 
E'en as the sun's unpitying rays 
Drink up the floods in summer blaze. 
Then for thyself lament and leave 
For death of other men to grieve, 
For if thou go or if thou stay, 
Thy life is shorter day by day. 
Death travels with us; death attends 
Our steps until our journey ends, 
Death, when the traveller wins the goal, 
Returns with the returning soul. 
The flowing hair grows white and thin, 
And wrinkles mark the altered skin. 
The ills of age man's strength assail: 
Ah, what can mortal power avail? 
Men joy to see the sun arise, 
They watch him set with joyful eyes: 
But ne'er reflect, too blind to see, 
How fast their own brief moments flee. 
With lovely change for ever new 
The seasons' sweet return they view, 
Nor think with heedless hearts the while 
That lives decay as seasons smile. 
As haply on the boundless main 
Meet drifting logs and part again, 
So wives and children, friends and gold, 
Ours for a little time we hold: 
Soon by resistless laws of fate 
To meet no more we separate. 
In all this changing world not one 
The common lot of all can shun: 
Then why with useless tears deplore 



754 The Ramayana 

The dead whom tears can bring no more? 
As one might stand upon the way 
And to a troop of travellers say: 
"If ye allow it, sirs, I too 
Will travel on the road with you:" 
So why should mortal man lament 
When on that path his feet are bent 
Which all men living needs must tread, 
Where sire and ancestors have led? 
Life flies as torrents downward fall 
Speeding away without recall, 
So virtue should our thoughts engage, 
[215] For bliss 382 is mortals' heritage. 

By ceaseless care and earnest zeal 
For servants and for people's weal, 
By gifts, by duty nobly done, 
Our glorious sire the skies has won. 
Our lord the king, o'er earth who reigned, 
A blissful home in heaven has gained 
By wealth in ample largess spent, 
And many a rite magnificent: 
With constant joy from first to last 
A long and noble life he passed, 
Praised by the good, no tears should dim 
Our eyes, O brother dear, for him. 
His human body, worn and tried 
By length of days, he cast aside, 
And gained the godlike bliss to stray 
In Brahma's heavenly home for aye. 
For such the wise as we are, deep 
In Veda lore, should never weep. 
Those who are firm and ever wise 



To be won by virtue. 



Canto CVI. Bharat's Speech. 755 

Spurn vain lament and idle sighs. 
Be self-possessed: thy grief restrain: 
Go, in that city dwell again. 
Return, O best of men, and be 
Obedient to our sire's decree, 
While I with every care fulfil 
Our holy father's righteous will, 
Observing in the lonely wood 
His charge approved by all the good." 

Thus Rama of the lofty mind 

To Bharat spoke his righteous speech, 

By every argument designed 
Obedience to his sire to teach. 



Canto CVI. Bharat's Speech. 

Good Bharat, by the river side, 

To virtuous Rama's speech replied, 

And thus with varied lore addressed 

The prince, while nobles round him pressed: 

"In all this world whom e'er can we 

Find equal, scourge of foes, to thee? 

No ill upon thy bosom weighs, 

No thoughts of joy thy spirit raise. 

Approved art thou of sages old, 

To whom thy doubts are ever told. 

Alike in death and life, to thee 

The same to be and not to be. 

The man who such a soul can gain 

Can ne'er be crushed by woe or pain. 

Pure as the Gods, high-minded, wise, 



756 The Ramayana 

Concealed from thee no secret lies. 

Such glorious gifts are all thine own, 

And birth and death to thee are known, 

That ill can ne'er thy soul depress 

With all-subduing bitterness. 

O let my prayer, dear brother, win 

Thy pardon for my mother's sin. 

Wrought for my sake who willed it not 

When absent in a distant spot. 

Duty alone with binding chains 

The vengeance due to crime restrains, 

Or on the sinner I should lift 

My hand in retribution swift. 

Can I who know the right, and spring 

From Dasaratha, purest king — 

Can I commit a heinous crime, 

Abhorred by all through endless time? 

The aged king I dare not blame, 

Who died so rich in holy fame, 

My honoured sire, my parted lord, 

E'en as a present God adored. 

Yet who in lore of duty skilled 

So foul a crime has ever willed, 

And dared defy both gain and right 

To gratify a woman's spite? 

When death draws near, so people say, 

The sense of creatures dies away; 

And he has proved the ancient saw 

By acting thus in spite of law. 

But O my honoured lord, be kind, 

Dismiss the trespass from thy mind, 

The sin the king committed, led 

By haste, his consort's wrath, and dread. 

For he who veils his sire's offence 



Canto CVI. Bharat's Speech. 757 

With tender care and reverence — 

His sons approved by all shall live: 

Not so their fate who ne'er forgive. 

Be thou, my lord, the noble son, 

And the vile deed my sire has done, 

Abhorred by all the virtuous, ne'er 

Resent, lest thou the guilt too share. 

Preserve us, for on thee we call, 

Our sire, Kaikeyi, me and all 

Thy citizens, thy kith and kin; 

Preserve us and reverse the sin. 

To live in woods a devotee 

Can scarce with royal tasks agree, 

Nor can the hermit's matted hair 

Suit fitly with a ruler's care. 

Do not, my brother, do not still 

Pursue this life that suits thee ill. 

Mid duties of a king we count 

His consecration paramount, 

That he with ready heart and hand 

May keep his people and his land. 

What Warrior born to royal sway 

From certain good would turn away, 

A doubtful duty to pursue, 

That mocks him with the distant view? 

Thou wouldst to duty cleave, and gain 

The meed that follows toil and pain. 

In thy great task no labour spare: 

Rule the four castes with justest care. 

Mid all the four, the wise prefer 

The order of the householder: 383 [216] 

Canst thou, whose thoughts to duty cleave, 



The four religious orders, referable to different times of life are, that of the 
student, that of the householder, that of the anchorite, and that of the mendicant. 



758 The Ramayana 

The best of all the orders leave? 
My better thou in lore divine, 
My birth, my sense must yield to thine: 
While thou, my lord, art here to reign, 
How shall my hands the rule maintain? 

faithful lover of the right, 

Take with thy friends the royal might, 
Let thy sires' realm, from trouble free, 
Obey her rightful king in thee. 
Here let the priests and lords of state 
Our monarch duly consecrate, 
With prayer and holy verses blessed 
By saint Vasishtha and the rest. 
Anointed king by us, again 
Seek fair Ayodhya, there to reign, 
And like imperial Indra girt 
By Gods of Storm, thy might assert. 
From the three debts 384 acquittance earn, 
And with thy wrath the wicked burn, 
O'er all of us thy rule extend, 
And cheer with boons each faithful friend. 
Let thine enthronement, lord, this day 
Make all thy lovers glad and gay, 
And let all those who hate thee flee 
To the ten winds for fear of thee. 
Dear lord, my mother's words of hate 
With thy sweet virtues expiate, 
And from the stain of folly clear 
The father whom we both revere. 
Brother, to me compassion show, 

1 pray thee with my head bent low, 
And to these friends who on thee call, — 



384 To Gods, men, and Manes. 



Canto CVII. Rama's Speech. 759 

As the Great Father pities all. 
But if my tears and prayers be vain, 
And thou in woods wilt still remain, 
I will with thee my path pursue 
And make my home in forests too." 



Thus Bharat strove to bend his will 

With suppliant head, but he, 
Earth's lord, inexorable still 

Would keep his sire's decree. 
The firmness of the noble chief 

The wondering people moved, 
And rapture mingling with their grief, 

All wept and all approved. 
"How firm his steadfast will," they cried, 

"Who Keeps his promise thus ! 
Ah, to Ayodhya's town," they sighed, 

"He comes not back with us." 
The holy priest, the swains who tilled 

The earth, the sons of trade, 
And e'en the mournful queens were filled 

With joy as Bharat prayed, 
And bent their heads, then weeping stilled 

A while, his prayer to aid. 



Canto CVII. Rama's Speech. 



760 The Ramayana 

Thus, by his friends encompassed round, 

He spoke, and Rama, far renowned, 

To his dear brother thus replied, 

Whom holy rites had purified: 

"O thou whom Queen Kaikeyi bare 

The best of kings, thy words are fair, 

Our royal father, when of yore 

He wed her, to her father swore 

The best of kingdoms to confer, 

A noble dowry meet for her; 

Then, grateful, on the deadly day 

Of heavenly Gods' and demons' fray, 

A future boon on her bestowed 

To whose sweet care his life he owed. 

She to his mind that promise brought, 

And then the best of kings besought 

To bid me to the forest flee, 

And give the rule, O Prince, to thee. 

Thus bound by oath, the king our lord 

Gave her those boons of free accord, 

And bade me, O thou chief of men, 

Live in the woods four years and ten. 

I to this lonely wood have hied 

With faithful Lakshman by my side, 

And Sita by no tears deterred, 

Resolved to keep my father's word. 

And thou, my noble brother, too 

Shouldst keep our father's promise true: 

Anointed ruler of the state 

Maintain his word inviolate. 

From his great debt, dear brother, free 

Our lord the king for love of me, 

Thy mother's breast with joy inspire, 

And from all woe preserve thy sire. 



Canto CVII. Rama's Speech. 761 

Tis said, near Gaya's holy town 385 
Gaya, great saint of high renown, 
This text recited when he paid 
Due rites to each ancestral shade: 

"A son is born his sire to free 
From Put's infernal pains: 

Hence, saviour of his father, he 
The name of Puttra gains." 386 
Thus numerous sons are sought by prayer, 

In Scripture trained with graces fair, [217] 

That of the number one some day 
May funeral rites at Gaya pay. 
The mighty saints who lived of old 
This holy doctrine ever hold. 
Then, best of men, our sire release 
From pains of hell, and give him peace. 
Now Bharat, to Ayodhya speed, 
The brave Satrughna with thee lead, 
Take with thee all the twice-born men, 
And please each lord and citizen. 
I now, O King, without delay 
To Dandak wood will bend my way, 
And Lakshman and the Maithil dame 
Will follow still, our path the same. 

Now, Bharat, lord of men be thou, 
And o'er Ayodhya reign: 

The silvan world to me shall bow, 
King of the wild domain. 



385 Gaya is a very holy city in Behar. Every good Hindu ought once in his life 
to make funeral offerings in Gaya in honour of his ancestors. 

386 Put is the name of that region of hell to which men are doomed who leave 
no son to perform the funeral rites which are necessary to assure the happiness 
of the departed. Putra, the common word for a son is said by the highest 
authority to be derived from Put and tra deliverer. 



762 The Ramayana 

Yea, let thy joyful steps be bent 

To that fair town to-day, 
And I as happy and content, 

To Dandak wood will stray. 
The white umbrella o'er thy brow 

Its cooling shade shall throw: 
I to the shadow of the bough 

And leafy trees will go. 
Satrughna, for wise plans renowned, 

Shall still on thee attend; 
And Lakshman, ever faithful found, 

Be my familiar friend. 
Let us his sons, O brother dear, 

The path of right pursue, 
And keep the king we all revere 

Still to his promise true." 



Canto CVIII. Javali's Speech. 

Thus Rama soothed his brother's grief: 
Then virtuous Javali, chief 
Of twice-born sages, thus replied 
In words that virtue's law defied: 
"Hail, Raghu's princely son, dismiss 
A thought so weak and vain as this. 
Canst thou, with lofty heart endowed, 
Think with the dull ignoble crowd? 
For what are ties of kindred? can 
One profit by a brother man? 
Alone the babe first opes his eyes, 
And all alone at last he dies. 



Canto CVIII. Javali's Speech. 763 

The man, I ween, has little sense 
Who looks with foolish reverence 
On father's or on mother's name: 
In others, none a right may claim. 
E'en as a man may leave his home 
And to a distant village roam, 
Then from his lodging turn away 
And journey on the following day, 
Such brief possession mortals hold 
In sire and mother, house and gold, 
And never will the good and wise 
The brief uncertain lodging prize. 
Nor, best of men, shouldst thou disown 
Thy sire's hereditary throne, 
And tread the rough and stony ground 
Where hardship, danger, woes abound. 
Come, let Ayodhya rich and bright 
See thee enthroned with every rite: 
Her tresses bound in single braid 387 
She waits thy coming long delayed. 
O come, thou royal Prince, and share 
The kingly joys that wait thee there, 
And live in bliss transcending price 
As Indra lives in Paradise. 
The parted king is naught to thee, 
Nor right in living man has he: 
The king is one, thou, Prince of men, 
Another art: be counselled then. 
Thy royal sire, O chief, has sped 
On the long path we all must tread. 
The common lot of all is this, 



387 It was the custom of Indian women when mourning for their absent husbands 
to bind their hair in a long single braid. 

Carey and Marshman translate, "the one-tailed city." 



764 The Ramayana 

And thou in vain art robbed of bliss. 
For those — and only those — I weep 
Who to the path of duty keep; 
For here they suffer ceaseless woe, 
And dying to destruction go. 
With pious care, each solemn day, 
Will men their funeral offerings pay: 
See, how the useful food they waste: 
He who is dead no more can taste. 
If one is fed, his strength renewed 
Whene'er his brother takes his food, 
Then offerings to the parted pay: 
Scarce will they serve him on his way. 
By crafty knaves these rules were framed, 
And to enforce men's gifts proclaimed: 
"Give, worship, lead a life austere, 
Keep lustral rites, quit pleasures here." 
There is no future life: be wise, 
And do, O Prince, as I advise. 
Enjoy, my lord, the present bliss, 
And things unseen from thought dismiss. 
Let this advice thy bosom move, 
The counsel sage which all approve; 
To Bharat's earnest prayer incline, 
And take the rule so justly thine." 



Canto CIX. The Praises Of Truth. 



By sage Javali thus addressed, 
[218] Rama of truthful hearts the best, 



Canto CIX. The Praises Of Truth. 765 

With perfect skill and wisdom high 
Thus to his speech made fit reply: 
"Thy words that tempt to bliss are fair, 
But virtue's garb they falsely wear. 
For he from duty's path who strays 
To wander in forbidden ways, 
Allured by doctrine false and vain, 
Praise from the good can never gain. 
Their lives the true and boaster show, 
Pure and impure, and high and low, 
Else were no mark to judge between 
Stainless and stained and high and mean; 
They to whose lot fair signs may fall 
Were but as they who lack them all, 
And those to virtuous thoughts inclined 
Were but as men of evil mind. 
If in the sacred name of right 
I do this wrong in duty's spite; 
The path of virtue meanly quit, 
And this polluting sin commit, 
What man who marks the bounds between 
Virtue and vice with insight keen, 
Would rank me high in after time 
Stained with this soul destroying crime? 
Whither could I, the sinner, turn, 
How hope a seat in heaven to earn, 
If I my plighted promise break, 
And thus the righteous path forsake? 
This world of ours is ever led 
To walk the ways which others tread, 
And as their princes they behold, 
The subjects too their lives will mould. 
That truth and mercy still must be 
Beloved of kings, is Heaven's decree. 



766 The Ramayana 

Upheld by truth the monarch reigns, 
And truth the very world sustains. 
Truth evermore has been the love 
Of holy saints and Gods above, 
And he whose lips are truthful here 
Wins after death the highest sphere. 
As from a serpent's deadly tooth, 
We shrink from him who scorns the truth. 
For holy truth is root and spring 
Of justice and each holy thing, 
A might that every power transcends, 
Linked to high bliss that never ends. 
Truth is all virtue's surest base, 
Supreme in worth and first in place. 
Oblations, gifts men offer here, 
Vows, sacrifice, and rites austere, 
And Holy Writ, on truth depend: 
So men must still that truth defend. 
Truth, only truth protects the land, 
By truth unharmed our houses stand; 
Neglect of truth makes men distressed, 
And truth in highest heaven is blessed. 
Then how can I, rebellious, break 
Commandments which my father spake — 
I ever true and faithful found, 
And by my word of honour bound? 
My father's bridge of truth shall stand 
Unharmed by my destructive hand: 
Not folly, ignorance, or greed 
My darkened soul shall thus mislead. 
Have we not heard that God and shade 
Turn from the hated offerings paid 
By him whose false and fickle mind 
No pledge can hold, no promise bind? 



Canto CIX. The Praises Of Truth. 767 

Truth is all duty: as the soul, 

It quickens and supports the whole. 

The good respect this duty: hence 

Its sacred claims I reverence. 

The Warrior's duty I despise 

That seeks the wrong in virtue's guise: 

Those claims I shrink from, which the base, 

Cruel, and covetous embrace. 

The heart conceives the guilty thought, 

Then by the hand the sin is wrought, 

And with the pair is leagued a third, 

The tongue that speaks the lying word. 

Fortune and land and name and fame 

To man's best care have right and claim; 

The good will aye to truth adhere, 

And its high laws must men revere. 

Base were the deed thy lips would teach, 

Approved as best by subtle speech. 

Shall I my plighted promise break, 

That I these woods my home would make? 

Shall I, as Bharat's words advise, 

My father's solemn charge despise? 

Firm stands the oath which then before 

My father's face I soothly swore, 

Which Queen Kaikeyfs anxious ear 

Rejoiced with highest joy to hear. 

Still in the wood will I remain, 

With food prescribed my life sustain, 

And please with fruit and roots and flowers 

Ancestral shades and heavenly powers. 

Here every sense contented, still 

Heeding the bounds of good and ill, 

My settled course will I pursue, 

Firm in my faith and ever true. 



768 The Ramayana 

Here in this wild and far retreat 
Will I my noble task complete; 
And Fire and Wind and Moon shall be 
Partakers of its fruit with me. 
A hundred offerings duly wrought 
His rank o'er Gods for Indra bought, 
And mighty saints their heaven secured 
By torturing years on earth endured." 
That scoffing plea the hero spurned, 

And thus he spake once more, 
Chiding, the while his bosom burned, 

Javali's impious lore: 
"Justice, and courage ne'er dismayed, 

Pity for all distressed, 
Truth, loving honour duly paid 

To Brahman, God, and guest — 
In these, the true and virtuous say, 

Should lives of men be passed: 
They form the right and happy way 
[219] That leads to heaven at last. 

My father's thoughtless act I chide 

That gave thee honoured place, 
Whose soul, from virtue turned aside, 

Is faithless, dark, and base. 
We rank the Buddhist with the thief, 388 

And all the impious crew 
Who share his sinful disbelief, 

And hate the right and true. 
Hence never should wise kings who seek 

To rule their people well, 
Admit, before their face to speak, 



388 The verses in a different metre with which some cantos end are all to be 
regarded with suspicion. Schlegel regrets that he did not exclude them all from 
his edition. These lines are manifestly spurious. See Additional Notes. 



Canto CIX. The Praises Of Truth. 769 

The cursed infidel. 
But twice-born men in days gone by, 

Of other sort than thou, 
Have wrought good deeds, whose glories high 

Are fresh among us now: 
This world they conquered, nor in vain 

They strove to win the skies: 
The twice-born hence pure lives maintain, 

And fires of worship rise. 
Those who in virtue's path delight, 

And with the virtuous live, — 
Whose flames of holy zeal are bright, 

Whose hands are swift to give, 
Who injure none, and good and mild 

In every grace excel, 
Whose lives by sin are undefiled, 

We love and honour well." 
Thus Rama spoke in righteous rage 

Javali's speech to chide, 
When thus again the virtuous sage 

In truthful words replied: 
"The atheist's lore I use no more, 

Not mine his impious creed: 
His words and doctrine I abhor, 

Assumed at time of need. 
E'en as I rose to speak with thee, 

The fit occasion came 
That bade me use the atheist's plea 

To turn thee from thine aim. 
The atheist creed I disavow, 

Unsay the words of sin, 
And use the faithful's language now 

Thy favour, Prince, to win." 



770 The Ramayana 

Canto CX. The Sons Of Ikshvaku. 389 



Then spake Vasishtha who perceived 

That Rama's soul was wroth and grieved: 

"Well knows the sage Javali all 

The changes that the world befall; 

And but to lead thee to revoke 

Thy purpose were the words he spoke. 

Lord of the world, now hear from me 

How first this world began to be. 

First water was, and naught beside; 

There earth was formed that stretches wide. 

Then with the Gods from out the same 

The Self-existent Brahma came. 

Then Brahma 390 in a boar's disguise 

Bade from the deep this earth arise; 

Then, with his sons of tranquil soul, 

He made the world and framed the whole. 

From subtlest ether Brahma rose: 

No end, no loss, no change he knows. 

A son had he, Marichi styled, 

And Kasyap was Marichi's child. 

From him Vivasvat sprang: from him 

Manu, whose fame shall ne'er be dim. 

Manu, who life to mortals gave, 

Begot Ikshvaku good and brave: 

First of Ayodhya's kings was he, 

Pride of her famous dynasty. 

From him the glorious Kukshi sprang, 



389 This genealogy is a repetition with slight variation of that given in Book I, 
Canto LXX. 

390 In Gorresio's recension identified with Vishnu. See Muir's Sanskrit Texts, 
Vol. IV. pp 29, 30. 



Canto CX. The Sons Of Ikshvaku. 77 1 

Whose fame through all the regions rang. 

Rival of Kukshi's ancient fame, 

His heir the great Vikukshi came. 

His son was Vana, lord of might, 

His Anaranya, strong in fight. 

No famine marred his blissful reign, 

No drought destroyed the kindly grain; 

Amid the sons of virtue chief, 

His happy realm ne'er held a thief, 

His son was Prithu, glorious name, 

From him the wise Trisanku came: 

Embodied to the skies he went 

For love of truth preeminent. 

He left a son renowned afar, 

Known by the name of Dhundhumar. 

His son succeeding bore the name 

Of Yuvanasva dear to fame. 

He passed away. Him followed then 

His son Mandhata, king of men. 

His son was blest in high emprise, 

Susandhi, fortunate and wise. 

Two noble sons had he, to wit 

Dhruvasandhi and Prasenajit. 

Bharat was Dhruvasandhi's son: 

His glorious arm the conquest won, 

Against his son King Asit, rose 

In fierce array his royal foes, 

Haihayas, Talajanghas styled, 

And Sasivindhus fierce and wild. [220] 

Long time he strove, but forced to yield 

Fled from his kingdom and the field. 

The wives he left had both conceived — 

So is the ancient tale believed: — 

One, of her rival's hopes afraid, 



772 The Ramayana 

Fell poison in the viands laid. 

It chanced that Chyavan, Bhrigu's child, 

Had wandered to the pathless wild 

Where proud Himalaya's lovely height 

Detained him with a strange delight. 

Then 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 Kalindi, fairest dame 

With reverent supplication came, 

To her the holy sage replied: 

"O royal lady, from thy side 

A glorious son shall spring ere long, 

Righteous and true and brave and strong; 

He, scourge of foes and lofty-souled, 

His ancient race shall still uphold." 

Then round the sage the lady went, 
And bade farewell, most reverent. 
Back to her home she turned once more, 
And there her promised son she bore. 
Because her rival mixed the bane 
To render her conception vain, 
And her unripened fruit destroy, 
Sagar she called her rescued boy. 391 
He, when he paid that solemn rite, 392 
Filled living creatures with affright: 
Obedient to his high decree 
His countless sons dug out the sea. 
Prince Asamanj was Sagar's child: 
But him with cruel sin defiled 



391 From sa with, and gara poison. 



Canto CX. The Sons Of Ikshvaku. 773 

And loaded with the people's hate 
His father banished from the state. 
To Asamanj his consort bare 
Bright Ansuman his valiant heir. 
Ansuman's son, Dilipa famed, 
Begot a son Bhagirath named. 
From him renowned Kakutstha came: 
Thou bearest still the lineal name. 
Kakutstha's son was Raghu: thou 
Art styled the son of Raghu now. 
From him came Purushadak bold, 
Fierce hero of gigantic mould: 
Kalmashapada's name he bore, 
Because his feet were spotted o'er. 
Sankhan his son, to manhood grown, 
Died sadly with his host o'erthrown, 
But ere he perished sprang from him 
Sudarsan fair in face and limb. 
From beautiful Sudarsan came 
Prince Agnivarna, bright as flame. 
His son was Sighraga, for speed 
Unmatched; and Maru was his seed. 
Prasusruka was Maru's child: 
His son was Ambarisha styled. 
Nahush was Ambarisha's heir 
With hand to strike and heart to dare. 
His son was good Nabhag, from youth 
Renowned for piety and truth. 
From great Nabhag sprang children two 
Aja and Suvrat pure and true. 
From Aja Dasaratha came, 
Whose virtuous life was free from blame. 
His eldest son art thou: his throne, 
O famous Rama, is thine own. 



774 The Ramayana 

Accept the sway so justly thine, 
And view the world with eyes benign. 
For ever in Ikshvaku's race 
The eldest takes his father's place, 
And while he lives no son beside 
As lord and king is sanctified. 

The rule by Raghu's children kept 
Thou must not spurn to-day. 

This realm of peerless wealth accept, 
And like thy father sway." 



Canto CXI. Counsel To Bharat. 



Thus said Vasishtha, and again 
To Rama spake in duteous strain: 
"All men the light of life who see 
With high respect should look on three: 
High honour ne'er must be denied 
To father, mother, holy guide. 
First to their sires their birth they owe, 
Nursed with maternal love they grow: 
Their holy guides fair knowledge teach: 
So men should love and honour each. 
Thy sire and thou have learned of me, 
The sacred guide of him and thee, 
And if my word thou wilt obey 
Thou still wilt keep the virtuous way. 
See, with the chiefs of every guild 
And all thy friends, this place is filled: 
All these, as duty bids, protect; 
So still the righteous path respect. 



Canto CXI. Counsel To Bharat. 775 

O, for thine aged mother feel, 
Nor spurn the virtuous dame's appeal: 
Obey, O Prince, thy mother dear, 
And still to virtue's path adhere. 
Yield thou to Bharat's fond request, 
With earnest supplication pressed, 
So wilt thou to thyself be true, 
And faith and duty still pursue." 

Thus by his saintly guide addressed 
With pleas in sweetest tones expressed, 
The lord of men in turn replied 
To wise Vasishtha by his side: 
"The fondest son's observance ne'er 

Repays the sire and mother's care: [221] 

The constant love that food provides, 
And dress, and every need besides: 
Their pleasant words still soft and mild, 
Their nurture of the helpless child: 
The words which Dasaratha spake, 
My king and sire, I ne'er will break." 

Then Bharat of the ample chest 
The wise Sumantra thus addressed; 
"Bring sacred grass, O charioteer, 
And strew it on the level here. 
For I will sit and watch his face 
Until I win my brother's grace. 
Like a robbed Brahman will I lie, 393 
Nor taste of food nor turn my eye, 
In front of Rama's leafy cot, 
And till he yield will leave him not." 



393 A practice which has frequently been described, under the name of dherna, 
by European travellers in India. 



776 The Ramayana 

When Bharat saw Sumantra's eye 
Looked up to Rama for reply, 
The Prince himself in eager haste 
The sacred grass in order placed. 
Him great and mighty Rama, best 
Of royal saints, in turn addressed: 
"What, Bharat, have I done, that thou 
Besiegest me, 394 a suppliant now? 
Thus streched, to force redress for wrongs 
To men of Brahman birth belongs, 
Not those upon whose kingly head 
The consecrating drops are shed. 
Up, lord of men! arise, and quit 
This fearful vow for thee unfit. 
Go, brother, seek Ayodhya's town, 
Fair city of supreme renown." 



But Bharat, as his seat he took, 
Cast all around an eager look: 
"O people, join your prayers with mine, 
And so his stubborn heart incline." 



And all the people answered thus: 
"Full well is Rama known to us. 
Right is the word he speaks and he 
Is faithful to his sire's decree: 
Nor can we rashly venture now 
To turn him from his purposed vow." 



Compare Milton's "'beseeching or beseiging.' 



Canto CXI. Counsel To Bharat. 777 

Then Rama spoke: "O Bharat, heed 
Thy virtuous friends, and mark their rede. 
Mark well what I and these advise, 
And duty view with clearer eyes. 
Thy hand on mine, O hero, place, 
Touch water, and thy sin efface." 

Then Bharat rose: his hand he dipped, 
And purifying water sipped: 
"Each citizen," he cried, "give ear, 
Attend, each counsellor and peer. 
My mother planned, by me untaught, 
To win the sway I never sought: 
Ne'er Raghu's son could I despise, 
In duty's lore supremely wise. 
Now if obedience to our sire 
This dwelling in the woods require, 
I, till the destined years be spent, 
Will dwell alone in banishment." 

The virtuous Rama, wonder-stirred, 
The faithful speech of Bharat heard, 
And thus the hero's feelings found 
Due utterance, as he gazed around: 

"Still to my father's word I hold, 
Whate'er he bought, or pledged, or sold: 
Ne'er shall his living promise be 
Annulled by Bharat or by me. 
Not thus my task will I evade, 
My exile on another laid: 
Most wise was Queen Kaikeyfs rede, 
And just and good my father's deed. 
Dear Bharat's patient soul I know, 
How reverence due he loves to show; 



778 The Ramayana 

In him, high-souled and faithful found, 

Must each auspicious grace abound. 

When from the woods I turn again 

I with his aid shall nobly reign, 

With one so good, of peerless worth, 

A glorious lord of happy earth. 

Her boon Kaikeyi sought and won. 

I, as my father swore, have done: 

And O, do thou, my brother dear, 

The monarch's name from falsehood clear. 



Canto CXII. The Sandals. 

High wonder mingled with delight 
Took the great sages at the sight, 
Thrilling their breasts who came to view 
The meeting of the peerless two. 
The saints and sages' holy train 
Departed to their home again. 
And high each holy voice was raised, 
And thus the glorious brothers praised. 

"High fate is his, the sire of two 
Most virtuous souls, so brave and true: 
With wonder and with joy intense 
Our ears have heard their conference." 
Then the great sages, longing all 
To see the ten-necked tyrant 395 fall, 
To Bharat, bravest of the brave, 
Their salutary counsel gave: 



395 Ten-headed, ten-necked, ten faced, are common epithets of Ravan the giant 
king of Lanka. 



Canto CXII. The Sandals. 779 

"O thou of lofty lineage born, 
Whom wisdom, conduct, fame adorn, 
Thou for thy honoured father's sake 

Shouldst Rama's righteous counsel take. [222] 

All debts to Queen Kaikeyi paid, 
Thy sire his home in heaven has made, 
So virtuous Rama we would see 
From filial obligation free." 
Thus gave each royal sage advice, 
High saint, and bard of Paradise; 
Then quickly vanishing from view 
Each to his proper home withdrew. 
Then Rama's face his rapture showed, 
And his full heart with joy o'erflowed, 
While, as the sages parted thence, 
He paid his humble reverence. 

Then Bharat shook in every limb 
As suppliant thus he spake to him: 
"The duty of a king respect, 
Held by our race in high respect: 
And O, thy gracious ear incline 
To heed my mother's prayer and mine. 
The mighty realm to rule and guard 
For me alone is task too hard. 
No power have I the love to gain 
Of noble, citizen, and swain. 
All those who know thee, warrior, friend, 
On thee their eager glances bend, 
As labouring hinds who till the plain 
Look fondly for the Lord of Rain. 
O wisest Prince, thy realm secure, 
And make its firm foundations sure. 
Kakutstha's son, thy mighty arm 



780 The Ramayana 

Can keep the nation free from harm." 
He spoke, and fell in sorrow drowned 
At Rama's feet upon the ground, 
And there the hero sued and sighed, 
And "Hear me, Raghu's son," he cried. 

Then Rama raised him up, and pressed 
His brother to his loving breast, 
And sweetly as a wild swan cried 
To Bharat dark and lotus-eyed: 
"So just and true thy generous soul, 
Thy hand may well this earth control: 
But many a sage his aid will lend, 
With counsellor, and peer, and friend: 
With these advise: their counsel ask, 
And so perform thy arduous task. 
The moon his beauty may forgo, 
The cold forsake the Hills of Snow, 
And Ocean o'er his banks may sweep, 
But I my father's word will keep. 
Now whether love of thee or greed 
Thy mother led to plan the deed, 
Forth from thy breast the memory throw, 
And filial love and reverence show." 

Thus spake Kausalya's son: again 
Bharat replied in humble strain 
To him who matched the sun in might 
And lovely as the young moon's light: 
"Put, noble brother, I entreat, 
These sandals on thy blessed feet: 
These, lord of men, with gold bedecked, 
The realm and people will protect." 



Canto CXII. The Sandals. 781 

Then Rama, as his brother prayed 
Beneath his feet the sandals laid, 
And these with fond affection gave 
To Bharat's hand, the good and brave. 
Then Bharat bowed his reverent head 
And thus again to Rama said: 
"Through fourteen seasons will I wear 
The hermit's dress and matted hair: 
With fruit and roots my life sustain, 
And still beyond the realm remain, 
Longing for thee to come again. 
The rule and all affairs of state 
I to these shoes will delegate. 
And if, O tamer of thy foes, 
When fourteen years have reached their close, 
I see thee not that day return, 
The kindled fire my frame shall burn." 

Then Rama to his bosom drew 
Dear Bharat and Satrughna too: 
"Be never wroth," he cried, "with her, 
Kaikeyfs guardian minister: 
This, glory of Ikshvaku's line, 
Is Sita's earnest prayer and mine." 
He spoke, and as the big tears fell, 
To his dear brother bade farewell. 
Round Rama, Bharat strong and bold 

In humble reverence paced, 
When the bright sandals wrought with gold 

Above his brows were placed. 
The royal elephant who led 

The glorious pomp he found, 
And on the monster's mighty head 
Those sandals duly bound. 



782 The Ramayana 

Then noble Rama, born to swell 

The glories of his race, 
To all in order bade farewell 

With love and tender grace — 
To brothers, counsellers, and peers, — 

Still firm, in duty proved, 
Firm, as the Lord of Snow uprears 

His mountains unremoved. 
No queen, for choking sobs and sighs, 

Could say her last adieu: 
Then Rama bowed, with flooded eyes, 

And to his cot withdrew. 



Canto CXIII. Bharat's Return. 



Bearing the sandals on his head 
Away triumphant Bharat sped, 
And clomb, Satrughna by his side, 
The car wherein he wont to ride. 
Before the mighty army went 
The lords for counsel eminent, 
Vasishtha, Vamadeva next, 
[223] Javali, pure with prayer and text. 

Then from that lovely river they 
Turned eastward on their homeward way: 
With reverent steps from left to right 
They circled Chitrakuta's height, 
And viewed his peaks on every side 
With stains of thousand metals dyed. 
Then Bharat saw, not far away, 
Where Bharadvaja's dwelling lay, 



Canto CXIII. Bharat's Return. 783 

And when the chieftain bold and sage 
Had reached that holy hermitage, 
Down from the car he sprang to greet 
The saint, and bowed before his feet. 
High rapture filled the hermit's breast, 
Who thus the royal prince addressed: 
"Say, Bharat, is thy duty done? 
Hast thou with Rama met, my son?" 

The chief whose soul to virtue clave 
This answer to the hermit gave: 
"I prayed him with our holy guide: 
But Raghu's son our prayer denied, 
And long besought by both of us 
He answered Saint Vasishtha thus: 
"True to my vow, I still will be 
Observant of my sire's decree: 
Till fourteen years complete their course 
That promise shall remain in force." 
The saint in highest wisdom taught, 
These solemn words with wisdom fraught, 
To him in lore of language learned 
Most eloquent himself returned: 
"Obey my rede: let Bharat hold 
This pair of sandals decked with gold: 
They in Ayodhya shall ensure 
Our welfare, and our bliss secure." 
When Rama heard the royal priest 
He rose, and looking to the east 
Consigned the sandals to my hand 
That they for him might guard the land. 
Then from the high-souled chiefs abode 
I turned upon my homeward road, 
Dismissed by him, and now this pair 



784 The Ramayana 

Of sandals to Ayodhya bear." 

To him the hermit thus replied, 
By Bharat's tidings gratified: 
"No marvel thoughts so just and true, 
Thou best of all who right pursue, 
Should dwell in thee, O Prince of men, 
As waters gather in the glen. 
He is not dead, we mourn in vain: 
Thy blessed father lives again, 
Whose noble son we thus behold 
Like Virtue's self in human mould." 

He ceased: before him Bharat fell 
To clasp his feet, and said farewell: 
His reverent steps around him bent, 
And onward to Ayodhya went. 
His host of followers stretching far 
With many an elephant and car, 
Waggon and steed, and mighty train, 
Traversed their homeward way again. 
O'er holy Yamuna they sped, 
Fair stream, with waves engarlanded, 
And then once more the rivers' queen, 
The blessed Ganga's self was seen. 
Then making o'er that flood his way, 
Where crocodiles and monsters lay, 
The king to Sringavera drew 
His host and royal retinue. 
His onward way he thence pursued, 
And soon renowned Ayodhya viewed. 
Then burnt by woe and sad of cheer 
Bharat addressed the charioteer: 
"Ah, see, Ayodhya dark and sad, 



Canto CXIV. Bharat's Departure. 785 

Her glory gone, once bright and glad: 

Of joy and beauty reft, forlorn, 

In silent grief she seems to mourn." 



Canto CXIV. Bharat's Departure. 



Deep, pleasant was the chariot's sound 

As royal Bharat, far renowned, 

Whirled by his mettled coursers fast 

Within Ayodhya's city passed. 

There dark and drear was every home 

Where cats and owls had space to roam, 

As when the shades of midnight fall 

With blackest gloom, and cover all: 

As Rohini, dear spouse of him 

Whom Rahu hates, 396 grows faint and dim, 

When, as she shines on high alone 

The demon's shade is o'er her thrown: 

As burnt by summer's heat a rill 

Scarce trickling from her parent hill, 

With dying fish in pools half dried, 

And fainting birds upon her side: 

As sacrificial flames arise 

When holy oil their food supplies, 

But when no more the fire is fed 

Sink lustreless and cold and dead: 

Like some brave host that filled the plain, 

With harness rent and captains slain, 

When warrior, elephant, and steed 



396 The spouse of Rohini is the Moon: Rahu is the demon who causes eclipses. 



786 The Ramayana 

Mingled in wild confusion bleed: 
As when, all spent her store of worth, 
Rocks from her base the loosened earth: 
Like a sad fallen star no more 
Wearing the lovely light it wore: 
So mournful in her lost estate 
Was that sad town disconsolate. 
Then car-borne Bharat, good and brave, 
Thus spake to him the steeds who drave: 
"Why are Ayodhya's streets so mute? 
Where is the voice of lyre and lute? 
Why sounds not, as of old, to-day 
[224] The music of the minstrel's lay? 

Where are the wreaths they used to twine? 

Where are the blossoms and the wine? 

Where is the cool refreshing scent 

Of sandal dust with aloe blent? 

The elephant's impatient roar, 

The din of cars, I hear no more: 

No more the horse's pleasant neigh 

Rings out to meet me on my way. 

Ayodhya's youths, since Rama's flight, 

Have lost their relish for delight: 

Her men roam forth no more, nor care 

Bright garlands round their necks to wear. 

All grieve for banished Rama: feast, 

And revelry and song have ceased: 

Like a black night when floods pour down, 

So dark and gloomy is the town. 

When will he come to make them gay 

Like some auspicious holiday? 

When will my brother, like a cloud 

At summer's close, make glad the crowd?" 



Canto CXV. Nandigram. 787 

Then through the streets the hero rode, 
And passed within his sire's abode, 
Like some deserted lion's den, 
Forsaken by the lord of men. 
Then to the inner bowers he came, 
Once happy home of many a dame, 

Now gloomy, sad, and drear, 
Dark as of old that sunless day 
When wept the Gods in wild dismay; 397 

There poured he many a tear. 



Canto CXV. Nandigram 



398 



Then when the pious chief had seen 
Lodged in her home each widowed queen, 
Still with his burning grief oppressed 
His holy guides he thus addressed: 
"I go to Nandigram: adieu, 
This day, my lords to all of you: 
I go, my load of grief to bear, 
Reft of the son of Raghu, there. 
The king my sire, alas, is dead, 
And Rama to the forest fled; 
There will I wait till he, restored, 
Shall rule the realm, its rightful lord." 



397 "Once," says the Commentator Tfrtha, "in the battle between the Gods and 
demons the Gods were vanquished, and the sun was overthrown by Rahu. At 
the request of the Gods Atri undertook the management of the sun for a week." 

398 Now Nundgaon, in Oudh. 



788 The Ramayana 

They heard the high-souled prince's speech, 
And thus with ready answer each 
Of those great lords their chief addressed, 
With saint Vasishtha and the rest: 
"Good are the words which thou hast said, 
By brotherly affection led, 
Like thine own self, a faithful friend, 
True to thy brother to the end: 
A heart like thine must all approve, 
Which naught from virtue's path can move." 

Soon as the words he loved to hear 
Fell upon Bharat's joyful ear, 
Thus to the charioteer he spoke: 
"My car with speed, Sumantra, yoke." 
Then Bharat with delighted mien 
Obeisance paid to every queen, 
And with Satrughna by his side 
Mounting the car away he hied. 
With lords, and priests in long array 
The brothers hastened on their way. 
And the great pomp the Brahmans led 
With Saint Vasishtha at their head. 
Then every face was eastward bent 
As on to Nandigram they went. 
Behind the army followed, all 
Unsummoned by their leader's call, 
And steeds and elephants and men 
Streamed forth with every citizen. 
As Bharat in his chariot rode 
His heart with love fraternal glowed, 
And with the sandals on his head 
To Nandigram he quickly sped. 
Within the town he swiftly pressed, 



Canto CXV. Nandigram. 789 

Alighted, and his guides addressed: 

"To me in trust my brother's hand 

Consigned the lordship of the land, 

When he these gold-wrought sandals gave 

As emblems to protect and save." 

Then Bharat bowed, and from his head 

The sacred pledge deposited, 

And thus to all the people cried 

Who ringed him round on every side: 

"Haste, for these sandals quickly bring 

The canopy that shades the king. 

Pay ye to them all reverence meet 

As to my elder brother's feet, 

For they will right and law maintain 

Until King Rama come again. 

My brother with a loving mind 

These sandals to my charge consigned: 

I till he come will guard with care 

The sacred trust for Raghu's heir. 

My watchful task will soon be done, 

The pledge restored to Raghu's son; 

Then shall I see, his wanderings o'er, 

These sandals on his feet once more. 

My brother I shall meet at last, 

The burthen from my shoulders cast, 

To Rama's hand the realm restore 

And serve my elder as before. 

When Rama takes again this pair 

Of sandals kept with pious care, 

And here his glorious reign begins, 

I shall be cleansed from all my sins, [225] 

When the glad people's voices ring 

With welcome to the new-made king, 

Joy will be mine four-fold as great 



790 The Ramayana 

As if supreme I ruled the state." 

Thus humbly spoke in sad lament 
The chief in fame preeminent: 
Thus, by his reverent lords obeyed, 
At Nandigram the kingdom swayed. 
With hermit's dress and matted hair 
He dwelt with all his army there. 
The sandals of his brother's feet 
Installed upon the royal seat, 
He, all his powers to them referred, 
Affairs of state administered. 

In every care, in every task, 

When golden store was brought, 

He first, as though their rede to ask, 
Those royal sandals sought. 



Canto CXVI. The Hermit's Speech. 



When Bharat took his homeward road 

Still Rama in the wood abode: 

But soon he marked the fear and care 

That darkened all the hermits there. 

For all who dwelt before the hill 

Were sad with dread of coming ill: 

Each holy brow was lined by thought, 

And Rama's side they often sought. 

With gathering frowns the prince they eyed, 

And then withdrew and talked aside. 



Canto CXVI. The Hermit's Speech. 791 

Then Raghu's son with anxious breast 
The leader of the saints addressed: 
"Can aught that I have done displease, 
O reverend Sage, the devotees? 
Why are their loving looks, O say, 
Thus sadly changed or turned away? 
Has Lakshman through his want of heed 
Offended with unseemly deed? 
Or is the gentle Sita, she 
Who loved to honour you and me — 
Is she the cause of this offence, 
Failing in lowly reverence?" 

One sage, o'er whom, exceeding old, 
Had many a year of penance rolled, 
Trembling in every aged limb 
Thus for the rest replied to him: 
"How could we, O beloved, blame 
Thy lofty-souled Videhan dame, 
Who in the good of all delights, 
And more than all of anchorites? 
But yet through thee a numbing dread 
Of fiends among our band has spread; 
Obstructed by the demons' art 
The trembling hermits talk apart. 
For Ravan's brother, overbold, 
Named Khara, of gigantic mould, 
Vexes with fury fierce and fell 
All those in Janasfhan 399 who dwell. 
Resistless in his cruel deeds, 
On flesh of men the monster feeds: 
Sinful and arrogant is he, 
And looks with special hate on thee. 



' A part of the great Dandak forest. 



792 The Ramayana 

Since thou, beloved son, hast made 

Thy home within this holy shade, 

The fiends have vexed with wilder rage 

The dwellers of the hermitage. 

In many a wild and dreadful form 

Around the trembling saints they swarm, 

With hideous shape and foul disguise 

They terrify our holy eyes. 

They make our loathing souls endure 

Insult and scorn and sights impure, 

And flocking round the altars stay 

The holy rites we love to pay. 

In every spot throughout the grove 

With evil thoughts the monsters rove, 

Assailing with their secret might 

Each unsuspecting anchorite. 

Ladle and dish away they fling, 

Our fires with floods extinguishing, 

And when the sacred flame should burn 

They trample on each water-urn. 

Now when they see their sacred wood 

Plagued by this impious brotherhood, 

The troubled saints away would roam 

And seek in other shades a home: 

Hence will we fly, O Rama, ere 

The cruel fiends our bodies tear. 

Not far away a forest lies 

Rich in the roots and fruit we prize, 

To this will I and all repair 

And join the holy hermits there; 

Be wise, and with us thither flee 

Before this Khara injure thee. 

Mighty art thou, O Rama, yet 

Each day with peril is beset. 



Canto CXVII. Anasuya. 793 

If with thy consort by thy side 
Thou in this wood wilt still abide." 



He ceased: the words the hero spake 
The hermit's purpose failed to break: 
To Raghu's son farewell he said, 
And blessed the chief and comforted; 
Then with the rest the holy sage 
Departed from the hermitage. 



So from the wood the saints withdrew, 
And Rama bidding all adieu 

In lowly reverence bent: 
Instructed by their friendly speech, 
Blest with the gracious love of each, 

To his pure home he went. 
Nor would the son of Raghu stray 
A moment from that grove away 

From which the saints had fled. 
And many a hermit thither came 
Attracted by his saintly fame 

And the pure life he led. 



[226] 



Canto CXVII. Anasuya. 



794 The Ramayana 

But dwelling in that lonely spot 

Left by the hermits pleased him not. 

"I met the faithful Bharat here, 

The townsmen, and my mother dear: 

The painful memory lingers yet, 

And stings me with a vain regret. 

And here the host of Bharat camped, 

And many a courser here has stamped, 

And elephants with ponderous feet 

Have trampled through the calm retreat." 

So forth to seek a home he hied, 

His spouse and Lakshman by his side. 

He came to Atri's pure retreat, 

Paid reverence to his holy feet, 

And from the saint such welcome won 

As a fond father gives his son. 

The noble prince with joy unfeigned 

As a dear guest he entertained, 

And cheered the glorious Lakshman too 

And Sita with observance due. 

Then Anasiiya at the call 

Of him who sought the good of all, 

His blameless venerable spouse, 

Delighting in her holy vows, 

Came from her chamber to his side: 

To her the virtuous hermit cried: 

"Receive, I pray, with friendly grace 

This dame of Maithil monarchs' race:" 

To Rama next made known his wife, 

The devotee of saintliest life: 

"Ten thousand years this votaress bent 

On sternest rites of penance spent; 

She when the clouds withheld their rain, 

And drought ten years consumed the plain, 



Canto CXVII. Anasuya. 795 

Caused grateful roots and fruit to grow 
And ordered Ganga here to flow: 
So from their cares the saints she freed, 
Nor let these checks their rites impede, 
She wrought in Heaven's behalf, and made 
Ten nights of one, the Gods to aid: 400 
Let holy Anasuya be 
An honoured mother, Prince, to thee. 
Let thy Videhan spouse draw near 
To her whom all that live revere, 
Stricken in years, whose loving mind 
Is slow to wrath and ever kind." 

He ceased: and Rama gave assent, 
And said, with eyes on Sita bent: 
"O Princess, thou hast heard with me 
This counsel of the devotee: 
Now that her touch thy soul may bless, 
Approach the saintly votaress: 
Come to the venerable dame, 
Far known by Anasuya's name: 
The mighty things that she has done 
High glory in the world have won." 

Thus spoke the son of Raghu: she 
Approached the saintly devotee, 
Who with her white locks, old and frail, 
Shook like a plantain in the gale. 
To that true spouse she bowed her head, 
And "Lady, I am Sita," said: 
Raised suppliant hands and prayed her tell 
That all was prosperous and well. 



400 When the saint Mandavya had doomed some saint's wife, who was 
Anasuya's friend, to become a widow on the morrow. 



796 The Ramayana 

The aged matron, when she saw 
Fair Sfta true to duty's law, 
Addressed her thus: "High fate is thine 
Whose thoughts to virtue still incline. 
Thou, lady of the noble mind, 
Hast kin and state and wealth resigned 
To follow Rama forced to tread 
Where solitary woods are spread. 
Those women gain high spheres above 
Who still unchanged their husbands love, 
Whether they dwell in town or wood, 
Whether their hearts be ill or good. 
Though wicked, poor, or led away 
In love's forbidden paths to stray, 
The noble matron still will deem 
Her lord a deity supreme. 
Regarding kin and friendship, I 
Can see no better, holier tie, 
And every penance-rite is dim 
Beside the joy of serving him. 
But dark is this to her whose mind 
Promptings of idle fancy blind, 
Who led by evil thoughts away 
Makes him who should command obey. 
Such women, O dear Maithil dame, 
Their virtue lose and honest fame, 
Enslaved by sin and folly, led 
In these unholy paths to tread. 
But they who good and true like thee 
The present and the future see, 
Like men by holy deeds will rise 
To mansions in the blissful skies. 

So keep thee pure from taint of sin, 
Still to thy lord be true, 



Canto CXVIII. Anasuya's Gifts. 797 

And fame and merit shalt thou win, 
To thy devotion due." 



Canto CXVIII. Anasuya's Gifts. 

Thus by the holy dame addressed 

Who banished envy from her breast, 

Her lowly reverence Sita paid, 

And softly thus her answer made: 

"No marvel, best of dames, thy speech 

The duties of a wife should teach; [227] 

Yet I, O lady, also know 

Due reverence to my lord to show. 

Were he the meanest of the base, 

Unhonoured with a single grace, 

My husband still I ne'er would leave, 

But firm through all to him would cleave: 

Still rather to a lord like mine 

Whose virtues high-exalted shine, 

Compassionate, of lofty soul, 

With every sense in due control, 

True in his love, of righteous mind, 

Like a dear sire and mother kind. 

E'en as he ever loves to treat 

Kausalya with observance meet, 

Has his behaviour ever been 

To every other honoured queen. 

Nay, more, a sonlike reverence shows 

The noble Rama e'en to those 

On whom the king his father set 

His eyes one moment, to forget. 



798 The Ramayana 

Deep in my heart the words are stored, 
Said by the mother of my lord, 
When from my home I turned away 
In the lone fearful woods to stray. 
The counsel of my mother deep 
Impressed upon my soul I keep, 
When by the fire I took my stand, 
And Rama clasped in his my hand. 
And in my bosom cherished yet, 
My friends' advice I ne'er forget: 
Woman her holiest offering pays 
When she her husband's will obeys. 
Good Savitri her lord obeyed, 
And a high saint in heaven was made, 
And for the self-same virtue thou 
Hast heaven in thy possession now. 
And she with whom no dame could vie, 
Now a bright Goddess in the sky, 
Sweet Rohini the Moon's dear Queen, 
Without her lord is never seen: 
And many a faithful wife beside 
For her pure love is glorified." 

Thus Sita spake: soft rapture stole 
Through Anasuya's saintly soul: 
Kisses on Sita's head she pressed, 
And thus the Maithil dame addressed: 
"I by long rites and toils endured 
Rich store of merit have secured: 
From this my wealth will I bestow 
A blessing ere I let thee go. 
So right and wise and true each word 
That from thy lips mine ears have heard, 
I love thee: be my pleasing task 



Canto CXVIII. Anasuya's Gifts. 799 

To grant the boon that thou shalt ask." 

Then Sita marvelled much, and while 
Played o'er her lips a gentle smile, 
"All has been done, O Saint," she cried, 
"And naught remains to wish beside." 

She spake; the lady's meek reply 
Swelled Anasuya's rapture high. 
"Sita," she said, "my gift to-day 
Thy sweet contentment shall repay. 
Accept this precious robe to wear, 
Of heavenly fabric, rich and rare, 
These gems thy limbs to ornament, 
This precious balsam sweet of scent. 
O Maithil dame, this gift of mine 
Shall make thy limbs with beauty shine, 
And breathing o'er thy frame dispense 
Its pure and lasting influence. 
This balsam on thy fair limbs spread 
New radiance on thy lord shall shed, 
As Lakshmi's beauty lends a grace 
To Vishnu's own celestial face." 

Then Sita took the gift the dame 
Bestowed on her in friendship's name, 
The balsam, gems, and robe divine, 
And garlands wreathed of bloomy twine; 
Then sat her down, with reverence meet, 
At saintly Anasuya's feet. 
The matron rich in rites and vows 
Turned her to Rama's Maithil spouse, 
And questioned thus in turn to hear 
A pleasant tale to charm her ear: 
"Sita, 'tis said that Raghu's son 



800 The Ramayana 

Thy hand, mid gathered suitors, won. 
I fain would hear thee, lady, tell 
The story as it all befell: 
Do thou repeat each thing that passed, 
Reviewing all from first to last." 

Thus spake the dame to Sita: she 
Replying to the devotee, 
"Then, lady, thy attention lend," 
Rehearsed the story to the end: 

"King Janak, just and brave and strong, 
Who loves the right and hates the wrong, 
Well skilled in what the law ordains 
For Warriors, o'er Videha reigns. 
Guiding one morn the plough, his hand 
Marked out, for rites the sacred land, 
When, as the ploughshare cleft the earth, 
Child of the king I leapt to birth. 
Then as the ground he smoothed and cleared, 
He saw me all with dust besmeared, 
And on the new-found babe, amazed 
The ruler of Videha gazed. 
In childless love the monarch pressed 
The welcome infant to his breast: 
"My daughter," thus he cried, "is she:" 
And as his child he cared for me. 
Forth from the sky was heard o'erhead 
As 'twere a human voice that said: 
"Yea, even so: great King, this child 
Henceforth thine own be justly styled." 
Videha's monarch, virtuous souled, 
Rejoiced o'er me with joy untold, 
Delighting in his new-won prize, 



Canto CXVIII. Anasuya's Gifts. 801 

The darling of his heart and eyes. 

To his chief queen of saintly mind 

The precious treasure he consigned, 

And by her side she saw me grow, 

Nursed with the love which mothers know. [228] 

Then as he saw the seasons fly, 

And knew my marriage-time was nigh, 

My sire was vexed with care, as sad 

As one who mourns the wealth he had: 

"Scorn on the maiden's sire must wait 

From men of high and low estate: 

The virgin's father all despise, 

Though Indra's peer, who rules the skies." 

More near he saw, and still more near, 

The scorn that filled his soul with fear, 

On trouble's billowy ocean tossed, 

Like one whose shattered bark is lost. 

My father knowing how I came, 

No daughter of a mortal dame, 

In all the regions failed to see 

A bridegroom meet to match with me. 

Each way with anxious thought he scanned, 

And thus at length the monarch planned: 

"The Bride's Election will I hold, 

With every rite prescribed of old." 

It pleased King Varun to bestow 

Quiver and shafts and heavenly bow 

Upon my father's sire who reigned, 

When Daksha his great rite ordained. 

Where was the man might bend or lift 

With utmost toil that wondrous gift? 

Not e'en in dreams could mortal king 

Strain the great bow or draw the string. 

Of this tremendous bow possessed, 



802 The Ramayana 

My truthful father thus addressed 
The lords of many a region, all 
Assembled at the monarch's call: 
"Whoe'er this bow can manage, he 
The husband of my child shall be." 
The suitors viewed with hopeless eyes 
That wondrous bow of mountain size, 
Then to my sire they bade adieu, 
And all with humbled hearts withdrew. 
At length with Visvamitra came 
This son of Raghu, dear to fame, 
The royal sacrifice to view. 
Near to my father's home he drew, 
His brother Lakshman by his side, 
Rama, in deeds heroic tried. 
My sire with honour entertained 
The saint in lore of duty trained, 
Who thus in turn addressed the king: 
"Rama and Lakshman here who spring 
From royal Dasaratha, long 
To see thy bow so passing strong." 

Before the prince's eyes was laid 
That marvel, as the Brahman prayed. 
One moment on the bow he gazed, 
Quick to the notch the string he raised, 
Then, in the wandering people's view, 
The cord with mighty force he drew. 
Then with an awful crash as loud 
As thunderbolts that cleave the cloud, 
The bow beneath the matchless strain 
Of arms heroic snapped in twain. 
Thus, giving purest water, he, 
My sire, to Rama offered me. 



Canto CXIX. The Forest. 803 

The prince the offered gift declined 
Till he should learn his father's mind; 
So horsemen swift Ayodhya sought 
And back her aged monarch brought. 
Me then my sire to Rama gave, 
Self -ruled, the bravest of the brave. 
And Urmila, the next to me, 
Graced with all gifts, most fair to see, 
My sire with Raghu's house allied, 
And gave her to be Lakshman's bride. 
Thus from the princes of the land 
Lord Rama won my maiden hand, 
And him exalted high above 
Heroic chiefs I truly love." 



Canto CXIX. The Forest. 



When Anasuya, virtuous-souled, 
Had heard the tale by Sita told, 
She kissed the lady's brow and laced 
Her loving arms around her waist. 
"With sweet-toned words distinct and clear 
Thy pleasant tale has charmed mine ear, 
How the great king thy father held 
That Maiden's Choice unparalleled. 
But now the sun has sunk from sight, 
And left the world to holy Night. 
Hark! how the leafy thickets sound 
With gathering birds that twitter round: 
They sought their food by day, and all 
Flock homeward when the shadows fall. 



804 The Ramayana 

See, hither comes the hermit band, 
Each with his pitcher in his hand: 
Fresh from the bath, their locks are wet, 
Their coats of bark are dripping yet. 
Here saints their fires of worship tend, 
And curling wreaths of smoke ascend: 
Borne on the flames they mount above, 
Dark as the brown wings of the dove. 
The distant trees, though well-nigh bare, 
Gloom thickened by the evening air, 
And in the faint uncertain light 
Shut the horizon from our sight. 
The beasts that prowl in darkness rove 
On every side about the grove, 
And the tame deer, at ease reclined 
Their shelter near the altars find. 
The night o'er all the sky is spread, 
With lunar stars engarlanded, 
And risen in his robes of light 
The moon is beautifully bright. 
Now to thy lord I bid thee go: 
Thy pleasant tale has charmed me so: 
One thing alone I needs must pray, 
Before me first thyself array: 
Here in thy heavenly raiment shine, 
[229] And glad, dear love, these eyes of mine." 

Then like a heavenly Goddess shone 
Fair Sita with that raiment on. 
She bowed her to the matron's feet, 
Then turned away her lord to meet. 
The hero prince with joy surveyed 
His Sita in her robes arrayed, 
As glorious to his arms she came 
With love-gifts of the saintly dame. 



Canto CXIX. The Forest. 805 

She told him how the saint to show 
Her fond affection would bestow 
That garland of celestial twine, 
Those ornaments and robes divine. 
Then Rama's heart, nor Lakshman's less, 
Was filled with pride and happiness, 
For honours high had Sita gained, 
Which mortal dames have scarce obtained. 
There honoured by each pious sage 
Who dwelt within the hermitage, 
Beside his darling well content 
That sacred night the hero spent. 

The princes, when the night had fled, 
Farewell to all the hermits said, 
Who gazed upon the distant shade, 
Their lustral rites and offerings paid. 
The saints who made their dwelling there 
In words like these addressed the pair: 
"O Princes, monsters fierce and fell 
Around that distant forest dwell: 
On blood from human veins they feed, 
And various forms assume at need, 
With savage beasts of fearful power 
That human flesh and blood devour. 
Our holy saints they rend and tear 
When met alone or unaware, 
And eat them in their cruel joy: 
These chase, O Rama, or destroy. 
By this one path our hermits go 
To fetch the fruits that yonder grow: 
By this, O Prince, thy feet should stray 
Through pathless forests far away." 



806 The Ramayana 

Thus by the reverent saints addressed, 
And by their prayers auspicious blessed, 

He left the holy crowd: 
His wife and brother by his side, 
Within the mighty wood he hied. 
So sinks the Day-God in his pride 

Beneath a bank of cloud. 



BOOK III. 



Canto I. The Hermitage. 



When Rama, valiant hero, stood 
In the vast shade of Dandak wood, 
His eyes on every side he bent 
And saw a hermit settlement, 
Where coats of bark were hung around, 
And holy grass bestrewed the ground. 
Bright with Brahmanic lustre glowed 
That circle where the saints abode: 
Like the hot sun in heaven it shone, 
Too dazzling to be looked upon. 
Wild creatures found a refuge where 
The court, well-swept, was bright and fair, 
And countless birds and roedeer made 
Their dwelling in the friendly shade. 
Beneath the boughs of well-loved trees 
Oft danced the gay Apsarases. 401 
Around was many an ample shed 
Wherein the holy fire was fed; 
With sacred grass and skins of deer, 
Ladles and sacrificial gear, 
And roots and fruit, and wood to burn, 



401 Heavenly nymphs. 



808 The Ramayana 

And many a brimming water-urn. 
Tall trees their hallowed branches spread, 
Laden with pleasant fruit, o'erhead; 
And gifts which holy laws require, 402 
And solemn offerings burnt with fire, 403 
And Veda chants on every side 
That home of hermits sanctified. 
There many a flower its odour shed, 
And lotus blooms the lake o'erspred. 
There, clad in coats of bark and hide, — 
Their food by roots and fruit supplied, — 
Dwelt many an old and reverend sire 
Bright as the sun or Lord of Fire, 
All with each worldly sense subdued, 
A pure and saintly multitude. 
The Veda chants, the saints who trod 
The sacred ground and mused on God, 
Made that delightful grove appear 
Like Brahma's own most glorious sphere. 
As Raghu's splendid son surveyed 
That hermit home and tranquil shade, 
He loosed his mighty bow-string, then 
[230] Drew nearer to the holy men. 

With keen celestial sight endued 

Those mighty saints the chieftain viewed, 

With joy to meet the prince they came, 

And gentle Sita dear to fame. 

They looked on virtuous Rama, fair 

As Soma 404 in the evening air, 

And Lakshman by his brother's side, 



402 The ball or present of food to all created beings. 



404 



The Moon-God: "he is," says the commentator, "the special deity of 
Brahmans." 



Canto I. The Hermitage. 809 

And Sita long in duty tried, 

And with glad blessings every sage 

Received them in the hermitage. 

Then Rama's form and stature tall 

Entranced the wondering eyes of all, — 

His youthful grace, his strength of limb, 

And garb that nobly sat on him. 

To Lakshman too their looks they raised, 

And upon Sita's beauty gazed 

With eyes that closed not lest their sight 

Should miss the vision of delight. 

Then the pure hermits of the wood, 

Rejoicing in all creatures' good, 

Their guest, the glorious Rama, led 

Within a cot with leaves o'erhead. 

With highest honour all the best 

Of radiant saints received their guest, 

With kind observance, as is meet, 

And gave him water for his feet. 

To highest pitch of rapture wrought 

Their stores of roots and fruit they brought. 

They poured their blessings on his head, 

And "All we have is thine," they said. 

Then, reverent hand to hand applied, 405 

Each duty-loving hermit cried: 

"The king is our protector, bright 

In fame, maintainer of the right. 

He bears the awful sword, and hence 

Deserves an elder's reverence. 

One fourth of Indra's essence, he 

Preserves his realm from danger free, 



405 "Because he was an incarnation of the deity," says the commentator, "oth- 
erwise such honour paid by men of the sacerdotal caste to one of the military 
would be improper." 



810 The Ramay ana 

Hence honoured by the world of right 
The king enjoys each choice delight. 
Thou shouldst to us protection give, 
For in thy realm, dear lord, we live: 
Whether in town or wood thou be, 
Thou art our king, thy people we. 
Our wordly aims are laid aside, 
Our hearts are tamed and purified. 
To thee our guardian, we who earn 
Our only wealth by penance turn." 

Then the pure dwellers in the shade 
To Raghu's son due honour paid, 
And Lakshman, bringing store of roots, 
And many a flower, and woodland fruits. 
And others strove the prince to please 
With all attentive courtesies. 



Canto II. Viradha. 



Thus entertained he passed the night, 
Then, with the morning's early light, 
To all the hermits bade adieu 
And sought his onward way anew. 
He pierced the mighty forest where 
Roamed many a deer and pard and bear: 
Its ruined pools he scarce could see. 
For creeper rent and prostrate tree, 
Where shrill cicada's cries were heard, 
And plaintive notes of many a bird. 
Deep in the thickets of the wood 



Canto II. Viradha. 811 

With Lakshman and his spouse he stood, 

There in the horrid shade he saw 

A giant passing nature's law: 

Vast as some mountain-peak in size, 

With mighty voice and sunken eyes, 

Huge, hideous, tall, with monstrous face, 

Most ghastly of his giant race. 

A tiger's hide the Rakshas wore 

Still reeking with the fat and gore: 

Huge-faced, like Him who rules the dead, 

All living things he struck with dread. 

Three lions, tigers four, ten deer 

He carried on his iron spear, 

Two wolves, an elephant's head beside 

With mighty tusks which blood-drops dyed. 

When on the three his fierce eye fell, 

He charged them with a roar and yell 

As furious as the grisly King 

When stricken worlds are perishing. 

Then with a mighty roar that shook 

The earth beneath their feet, he took 

The trembling Sita to his side. 

Withdrew a little space, and cried: 

"Ha, short lived wretches, ye who dare, 

In hermit dress with matted hair, 

Armed each with arrows, sword, and bow, 

Through Dandak's pathless wood to go: 

How with one dame, I bid you tell, 

Can you among ascetics dwell? 

Who are ye, sinners, who despise 

The right, in holy men's disguise? 

The great Viradha, day by day 

Through this deep-tangled wood I stray, 

And ever, armed with trusty steel, 



812 The Ramayana 

I seize a saint to make my meal. 
This woman young and fair of frame 
Shall be the conquering giant's dame: 
Your blood, ye things of evil life, 
My lips shall quaff in battle strife." 

He spoke: and Janak's hapless child, 
[231] Scared by his speech so fierce and wild, 

Trembled for terror, as a frail 
Young plantain shivers in the gale. 
When Rama saw Viradha clasp 
Fair Sita in his mighty grasp, 
Thus with pale lips that terror dried 
The hero to his brother cried: 
"O see Viradha's arm enfold 
My darling in its cursed hold, — 
The child of Janak best of kings, 
My spouse whose soul to virtue clings, 
Sweet princess, with pure glory bright, 
Nursed in the lap of soft delight. 
Now falls the blow Kaikeyi meant, 
Successful in her dark intent: 
This day her cruel soul will be 
Triumphant over thee and me. 
Though Bharat on the throne is set, 
Her greedy eyes look farther yet: 
Me from my home she dared expel, 
Me whom all creatures loved so well. 
This fatal day at length, I ween, 
Brings triumph to the younger queen. 
I see with bitterest grief and shame 
Another touch the Maithil dame. 
Not loss of sire and royal power 
So grieves me as this mournful hour." 



Canto III. Viradha Attacked. 8 1 3 

Thus in his anguish cried the chief: 
Then drowned in tears, o'erwhelmed by grief, 
Thus Lakshman in his anger spake, 
Quick panting like a spell-bound snake: 

"Canst thou, my brother, Indra's peer, 
When I thy minister am near, 
Thus grieve like some forsaken thing, 
Thou, every creature's lord and king? 
My vengeful shaft the fiend shall slay, 
And earth shall drink his blood to-day. 
The fury which my soul at first 
Upon usurping Bharat nursed, 
On this Viradha will I wreak 
As Indra splits the mountain peak. 
Winged by this arm's impetuous might 

My shaft with deadly force 
The monster in the chest shall smite, 

And fell his shattered corse." 



Canto III. Viradha Attacked. 



Viradha with a fearful shout 

That echoed through the wood, cried out: 

"What men are ye, I bid you say, 
And whither would ye bend your way?" 



814 The Ramayana 

To him whose mouth shot fiery flame 
The hero told his race and name: 
"Two Warriors, nobly bred, are we, 
And through this wood we wander free. 
But who art thou, how born and styled, 
Who roamest here in Dandak's wild?" 



To Rama, bravest of the brave, 
His answer thus Viradha gave: 
"Hear, Raghu's son, and mark me well, 
And I my name and race will tell. 
Of Satahrada born, I spring 
From Java as my sire, O King: 
Me, of this lofty lineage, all 
Giants on earth Viradha call. 
The rites austere I long maintained 
From Brahma's grace the boon have gained 
To bear a charmed frame which ne'er 
Weapon or shaft may pierce or tear. 
Go as ye came, untouched by fear, 
And leave with me this woman here: 
Go, swiftly from my presence fly, 
Or by this hand ye both shall die." 



Then Rama with his fierce eyes red 
With fury to the giant said: 
"Woe to thee, sinner, fond and weak, 
Who madly thus thy death wilt seek! 
Stand, for it waits thee in the fray: 
With life thou ne'er shalt flee away." 



Canto III. Viradha Attacked. 8 1 5 

He spoke, and raised the cord whereon 
A pointed arrow flashed and shone, 
Then, wild with anger, from his bow, 
He launched the weapon on the foe. 
Seven times the fatal cord he drew, 
And forth seven rapid arrows flew, 
Shafts winged with gold that left the wind 
And e'en Suparna's 406 self behind. 
Full on the giant's breast they smote, 
And purpled like the peacock's throat, 
Passed through his mighty bulk and came 
To earth again like flakes of flame. 
The fiend the Maithil dame unclasped; 
In his fierce hand his spear he grasped, 
And wild with rage, pierced through and through, 
At Rama and his brother flew. 
So loud the roar which chilled with fear, 
So massy was the monster's spear, 
He seemed, like Indra's flagstaff, dread 
As the dark God who rules the dead. 
On huge Viradha fierce as He 407 
Who smites, and worlds have ceased to be, 
The princely brothers poured amain 
Their fiery flood of arrowy rain. 
Unmoved he stood, and opening wide 
His dire mouth laughed unterrified, 
And ever as the monster gaped 
Those arrows from his jaws escaped. 
Preserving still his life unharmed, 
By Brahma's saving promise charmed, 
His mighty spear aloft in air 
He raised, and rushed upon the pair. 



406 The king of birds. 



407 Kdldntakayamopamam, resembling Yama the destroyer. 



816 The Ramayana 

From Rama's bow two arrows flew 
[232] And cleft that massive spear in two, 

Dire as the flaming levin sent 
From out the cloudy firmament. 
Cut by the shafts he guided well 
To earth the giant's weapon fell: 
As when from Meru's summit, riven 
By fiery bolts, a rock is driven. 
Then swift his sword each warrior drew, 
Like a dread serpent black of hue, 
And gathering fury for the blow 
Rushed fiercely on the giant foe. 
Around each prince an arm he cast, 
And held the dauntless heroes fast: 
Then, though his gashes gaped and bled, 
Bearing the twain he turned and fled. 

Then Rama saw the giant's plan, 
And to his brother thus began: 
"O Lakshman, let Viradha still 
Hurry us onward as he will, 
For look, Sumitra's son, he goes 
Along the path we freely chose." 

He spoke: the rover of the night 
Upraised them with terrific might, 
Till, to his lofty shoulders swung, 
Like children to his neck they clung. 
Then sending far his fearful roar, 
The princes through the wood he bore, — 
A wood like some vast cloud to view, 
Where birds of every plumage flew, 
And mighty trees o'erarching threw 

Dark shadows on the ground; 



Canto IV. Viradha's Death. 817 

Where snakes and silvan creatures made 
Their dwelling, and the jackal strayed 
Through tangled brakes around. 



Canto IV. Viradha's Death. 



But Sita viewed with wild affright 
The heroes hurried from her sight. 
She tossed her shapely arms on high, 
And shrieked aloud her bitter cry: 
"Ah, the dread giant bears away 
The princely Rama as his prey, 
Truthful and pure, and good and great, 
And Lakshman shares his brother's fate. 
The brindled tiger and the bear 
My mangled limbs for food will tear. 
Take me, O best of giants, me, 
And leave the sons of Raghu free." 



The Ramayana 



Then, by avenging fury spurred, 
Her mournful cry the heroes heard, 
And hastened, for the lady's sake, 
The wicked monster's life to take. 
Then Lakshman with resistless stroke 
The foe's left arm that held him broke, 
And Rama too, as swift to smite, 
Smashed with his heavy hand the right. 
With broken arms and tortured frame 
To earth the fainting giant came, 
Like a huge cloud, or mighty rock 
Rent, sundered by the levin's shock. 
Then rushed they on, and crushed and beat 
Their foe with arms and fists and feet, 
And nerved each mighty limb to pound 
And bray him on the level ground. 
Keen arrows and each biting blade 
Wide rents in breast and side had made; 
But crushed and torn and mangled, still 
The monster lived they could not kill. 
When Rama saw no arms might slay 
The fiend who like a mountain lay, 
The glorious hero, swift to save 
In danger, thus his counsel gave: 
"O Prince of men, his charmed life 
No arms may take in battle strife: 
Now dig we in this grove a pit 
His elephantine bulk to fit, 
And let the hollowed earth enfold 
The monster of gigantic mould." 

This said, the son of Raghu pressed 
His foot upon the giant's breast. 
With joy the prostrate monster heard 



Canto IV. Viradha's Death. 819 

Victorious Rama's welcome word, 

And straight Kakutstha's son, the best 

Of men, in words like these addressed: 

"I yield, O chieftain, overthrown 

By might that vies with Indra's own. 

Till now my folly-blinded eyes 

Thee, hero, failed to recognize. 

Happy Kausalya! blest to be 

The mother of a son like thee! 

I know thee well, O chieftain, now: 

Rama, the prince of men, art thou. 

There stands the high-born Maithil dame, 

There Lakshman, lord of mighty fame. 

My name was Tumburu, 408 for song 

Renowned among the minstrel throng: 

Cursed by Kuvera's stern decree 

I wear the hideous shape you see. 

But when I sued, his grace to crave, 

The glorious God this answer gave: 

"When Rama, Dasaratha's son, 

Destroys thee and the fight is won, 

Thy proper shape once more assume, 

And heaven again shall give thee room." 

When thus the angry God replied, 

No prayers could turn his wrath aside, 

And thus on me his fury fell 

For loving Rambha's 409 charms too well. 

Now through thy favour am I freed 

From the stern fate the God decreed, 

And saved, O tamer of the foe, [233] 



408 Somewhat inconsistently with this part of the story Tumburu is mentioned in 
Book II, Canto XII as one of the Gandharvas or heavenly minstrels summoned 
to perform at Bharadvaja's feast. 

409 Rambha appears in Book I Canto LXIV as the temptress of Visvamitra. 



820 The Ramayana 

By thee, to heaven again shall go. 
A league, O Prince, beyond this spot 
Stands holy Sarabhanga's cot: 
The very sun is not more bright 
Than that most glorious anchorite: 
To him, O Rama, quickly turn, 
And blessings from the hermit earn. 
First under earth my body throw, 
Then on thy way rejoicing go. 
Such is the law ordained of old 
For giants when their days are told: 
Their bodies laid in earth, they rise 
To homes eternal in the skies." 



Thus, by the rankling dart oppressed, 
Kakutstha's offspring he addressed: 
In earth his mighty body lay, 
His spirit fled to heaven away. 



Thus spake Viradha ere he died; 
And Rama to his brother cried: 
"Now dig we in this grove a pit 
His elephantine bulk to fit. 
And let the hollowed earth enfold 
This mighty giant fierce and bold." 



Canto IV. Viradha's Death. 821 

This said, the valiant hero put 
Upon the giant's neck his foot. 
His spade obedient Lakshman plied, 
And dug a pit both deep and wide 
By lofty souled Viradha's side. 
Then Raghu's son his foot withdrew, 
And down the mighty form they threw; 
One awful shout of joy he gave 
And sank into the open grave. 
The heroes, to their purpose true, 
In fight the cruel demon slew, 

And radiant with delight 
Deep in the hollowed earth they cast 
The monster roaring to the last, 

In their resistless might. 
Thus when they saw the warrior's steel 
No life-destroying blow might deal, 

The pair, for lore renowned, 
Deep in the pit their hands had made 
The unresisting giant laid, 

And killed him neath the ground. 
Upon himself the monster brought 
From Rama's hand the death he sought 

With strong desire to gain: 
And thus the rover of the night 
Told Rama, as they strove in fight, 
That swords might rend and arrows smite 

Upon his breast in vain. 
Thus Rama, when his speech he heard, 
The giant's mighty form interred, 

Which mortal arms defied. 
With thundering crash the giant fell, 
And rock and cave and forest dell 

With echoing roar replied. 



822 The Ramayana 

The princes, when their task was done 
And freedom from the peril won, 

Rejoiced to see him die. 
Then in the boundless wood they strayed, 
Like the great sun and moon displayed 

Triumphant in the sky. 410 



Canto V. Sarabhanga. 



Then Rama, having slain in fight 

Viradha of terrific might, 

With gentle words his spouse consoled, 

And clasped her in his loving hold. 

Then to his brother nobly brave 

The valiant prince his counsel gave: 

"Wild are these woods around us spread; 

And hard and rough the ground to tread: 

We, O my brother, ne'er have viewed 

So dark and drear a solitude: 

To Sarabhanga let us haste, 

Whom wealth of holy works has graced." 



410 The conclusion of this Canto is all a vain repetition: it is manifestly spurious 
and a very feeble imitation of Valmfki's style. See Additional Notes. 



Canto V. Sarabhanga. 823 

Thus Rama spoke, and took the road 
To Sarabhanga's pure abode. 
But near that saint whose lustre vied 
With Gods, by penance purified, 
With startled eyes the prince beheld 
A wondrous sight unparalleled. 
In splendour like the fire and sun 
He saw a great and glorious one. 
Upon a noble car he rode, 
And many a God behind him glowed: 
And earth beneath his feet unpressed 411 
The monarch of the skies confessed. 
Ablaze with gems, no dust might dim 
The bright attire that covered him. 
Arrayed like him, on every side 
High saints their master glorified. 
Near, borne in air, appeared in view 
His car which tawny coursers drew, 
Like silver cloud, the moon, or sun 
Ere yet the day is well begun. 
Wreathed with gay garlands, o'er his head 
A pure white canopy was spread, 
And lovely nymphs stood nigh to hold 
Fair chouris with their sticks of gold, 
Which, waving in each gentle hand, 
The forehead of their monarch fanned. 
God, saint, and bard, a radiant ring, 
Sang glory to their heavenly King: 
Forth into joyful lauds they burst 
As Indra with the sage conversed. 
Then Rama, when his wondering eyes 
Beheld the monarch of the skies, [234] 



411 "Even when he had alighted," says the commentator: The feet of Gods do 
not touch the ground. 



824 The Ramayana 

To Lakshman quickly called, and showed 
The car wherein Lord Indra rode: 
"See, brother, see that air-borne car, 
Whose wondrous glory shines afar: 
Wherefrom so bright a lustre streams 
That like a falling sun it seems: 
These are the steeds whose fame we know, 
Of heavenly race through heaven they go: 
These are the steeds who bear the yoke 
Of Sakra, 412 Him whom all invoke. 
Behold these youths, a glorious band, 
Toward every wind a hundred stand: 
A sword in each right hand is borne, 
And rings of gold their arms adorn. 
What might in every broad deep chest 
And club-like arm is manifest! 
Clothed in attire of crimson hue 
They show like tigers fierce to view. 
Great chains of gold each warder deck, 
Gleaming like fire beneath his neck. 
The age of each fair youth appears 
Some score and five of human years: 
The ever-blooming prime which they 
Who live in heaven retain for aye: 
Such mien these lordly beings wear, 
Heroic youths, most bright and fair. 
Now, brother, in this spot, I pray, 
With the Videhan lady stay, 
Till I have certain knowledge who 
This being is, so bright to view." 



Canto V. Sarabhanga. 825 

He spoke, and turning from the spot 
Sought Sarabhanga's hermit cot. 
But when the lord of Sachi 413 saw 
The son of Raghu near him draw, 
He hastened of the sage to take 
His leave, and to his followers spake: 

"See, Rama bends his steps this way, 
But ere he yet a word can say, 
Come, fly to our celestial sphere; 
It is not meet he see me here. 
Soon victor and triumphant he 
In fitter time shall look on me. 
Before him still a great emprise, 
A task too hard for others, lies." 

Then with all marks of honour high 
The Thunderer bade the saint good-bye, 
And in his car which coursers drew 
Away to heaven the conqueror flew. 
Then Rama, Lakshman, and the dame, 
To Sarabhanga nearer came, 
Who sat beside the holy flame. 
Before the ancient sage they bent, 
And clasped his feet most reverent; 
Then at his invitation found 
A seat beside him on the ground. 
Then Rama prayed the sage would deign 
Lord Indra's visit to explain; 
And thus at length the holy man 
In answer to his prayer began: 



826 The Ramayana 

"This Lord of boons has sought me here 
To waft me hence to Brahma's sphere, 
Won by my penance long and stern, — 
A home the lawless ne'er can earn. 
But when I knew that thou wast nigh, 
To Brahma's world I could not fly 
Until these longing eyes were blest 
With seeing thee, mine honoured guest. 
Since thou, O Prince, hast cheered my sight, 
Great-hearted lover of the right, 
To heavenly spheres will I repair 
And bliss supreme that waits me there. 
For I have won, dear Prince, my way 
To those fair worlds which ne'er decay, 
Celestial seat of Brahma's reign: 
Be thine, with me, those worlds to gain." 



Then master of all sacred lore, 
Spake Rama to the saint once more: 



"I, even I, illustrious sage, 
Will make those worlds mine heritage: 
But now, I pray, some home assign 
Within this holy grove of thine." 



Thus Rama, Indra's peer in might, 
Addressed the aged anchorite: 
And he, with wisdom well endued, 
To Raghu's son his speech renewed: 



Canto V. Sarabhanga. 827 

"Sutfkshna's woodland home is near, 
A glorious saint of life austere, 
True to the path of duty; he 
With highest bliss will prosper thee. 
Against the stream thy course must be 
Of this fair brook Mandakini, 
Whereon light rafts like blossoms glide; 
Then to his cottage turn aside. 
There lies thy path: but ere thou go, 
Look on me, dear one, till I throw 
Aside this mould that girds me in, 
As casts the snake his withered skin." 

He spoke, the fire in order laid 
With holy oil due offerings made, 
And Sarabhanga, glorious sire, 
Laid down his body in the fire. 
Then rose the flame above his head, 
On skin, blood, flesh, and bones it fed, 
Till forth, transformed, with radiant hue 
Of tender youth, he rose anew, 
Far-shining in his bright attire 
Came Sarabhanga from the pyre: 
Above the home of saints, and those 
Who feed the quenchless flame, 414 he rose: 
Beyond the seat of Gods he passed, 

And Brahma's sphere was gained at last. [235] 

The noblest of the twice-born race, 
For holy works supreme in place, 
The Mighty Father there beheld 
Girt round by hosts unparalleled; 



414 The spheres or mansions gained by those who have duly performed the 
sacrifices required of them. Different situations are assigned to these spheres, 
some placing them near the sun, others near the moon. 



828 The Ramayana 

And Brahma joying at the sight 
Welcomed the glorious anchorite. 



Canto VI. Rama's Promise. 



When he his heavenly home had found, 
The holy men who dwelt around 
To Rama flocked, whose martial fame 
Shone glorious as the kindled flame: 
Vaikhanasas 415 who love the wild, 
Pure hermits Balakhilyas 416 styled, 
Good Samprakshalas, 417 saints who live 
On rays which moon and daystar give: 
Those who with leaves their lives sustain 
And those who pound with stones their grain: 
And they who lie in pools, and those 
Whose corn, save teeth, no winnow knows: 
Those who for beds the cold earth use, 
And those who every couch refuse: 
And those condemned to ceaseless pains, 
Whose single foot their weight sustains: 
And those who sleep neath open skies, 
Whose food the wave or air supplies, 
And hermits pure who spend their nights 



415 Hermits who live upon roots which they dig out of the earth: literally 
diggers, derived from the prefix vi and khan to dig. 

416 Generally, divine personages of the height of a man's thumb, produced 
from Brahma's hair: here, according to the commentator followed by Gorresio, 
hermits who when they have obtained fresh food throw away what they had 
laid up before. 

417 Sprung from the washings of Vishnuu's feet. 



Canto VI. Rama's Promise. 829 

On ground prepared for sacred rites; 
Those who on hills their vigil hold, 
Or dripping clothes around them fold: 
The devotees who live for prayer, 
Or the five fires 418 unflinching bear. 
On contemplation all intent, 
With light that heavenly knowledge lent, 
They came to Rama, saint and sage, 
In Sarabhanga's hermitage. 
The hermit crowd around him pressed, 
And thus the virtuous chief addressed: 
"The lordship of the earth is thine, 
O Prince of old Ikshvaku's line. 
Lord of the Gods is Indra, so 
Thou art our lord and guide below. 
Thy name, the glory of thy might, 
Throughout the triple world are bright: 
Thy filial love so nobly shown, 
Thy truth and virtue well are known. 
To thee, O lord, for help we fly, 
And on thy love of right rely: 
With kindly patience hear us speak, 
And grant the boon we humbly seek. 
That lord of earth were most unjust, 
Foul traitor to his solemn trust, 
Who should a sixth of all 419 require, 
Nor guard his people like a sire. 
But he who ever watchful strives 
To guard his subjects' wealth and lives, 
Dear as himself or, dearer still, 
His sons, with earnest heart and will, — 
That king, O Raghu's son, secures 



418 Four fires burning round them, and the sun above. 

419 The tax allowed to the king by the Laws of Manu. 



830 The Ramayana 

High fame that endless years endures, 
And he to Brahma's world shall rise, 
Made glorious in the eternal skies. 
Whate'er, by duty won, the meed 
Of saints whom roots and berries feed, 
One fourth thereof, for tender care 
Of subjects, is the monarch's share. 
These, mostly of the Brahman race, 
Who make the wood their dwelling-place, 
Although a friend in thee they view, 
Fall friendless neath the giant crew. 
Come, Rama, come, and see hard by 
The holy hermits' corpses lie, 
Where many a tangled pathway shows 
The murderous work of cruel foes. 
These wicked fiends the hermits kill — 
Who live on Chitrakuta's hill, 
And blood of slaughtered saints has dyed 
Mandakini and Pampa's side. 
No longer can we bear to see 
The death of saint and devotee 
Whom through the forest day by day 
These Rakshasas unpitying slay. 
To thee, O Prince, we flee, and crave 
Thy guardian help our lives to save. 
From these fierce rovers of the night 
Defend each stricken anchorite. 
Throughout the world 'twere vain to seek 
An arm like thine to aid the weak. 
O Prince, we pray thee hear our call, 
And from these fiends preserve us all." 

The son of Raghu heard the plaint 
Of penance-loving sage and saint, 



Canto VII. Sutfkshna. 831 

And the good prince his speech renewed 
To all the hermit multitude: 



"To me, O saints, ye need not sue: 
I wait the hests of all of you. 
I by mine own occasion led 

This mighty forest needs must tread, [236] 

And while I keep my sire's decree 
Your lives from threatening foes will free. 
I hither came of free accord 
To lend the aid by you implored, 
And richest meed my toil shall pay, 
While here in forest shades I stay. 
I long in battle strife to close. 
And slay these fiends, the hermits' foes, 
That saint and sage may learn aright 
My prowess and my brother's might." 



Thus to the saints his promise gave 
That prince who still to virtue clave 

With never-wandering thought: 
And then with Lakshman by his side, 
With penance-wealthy men to guide, 

Sutfkshna' s home he sought. 



Canto VII. Sutfkshna. 



832 The Ramayana 

So Raghu's son, his foemen's dread, 

With Sita and his brother sped, 

Girt round by many a twice-born sage, 

To good Sutikshna's hermitage. 420 

Through woods for many a league he passed, 

O'er rushing rivers full and fast, 

Until a mountain fair and bright 

As lofty Meru rose in sight. 

Within its belt of varied wood 

Ikshvaku's sons and Sita stood, 

Where trees of every foliage bore 

Blossom and fruit in endless store. 

There coats of bark, like garlands strung, 

Before a lonely cottage hung, 

And there a hermit, dust-besmeared, 

A lotus on his breast, appeared. 

Then Rama with obeisance due 

Addressed the sage, as near he drew: 

"My name is Rama, lord; I seek 

Thy presence, saint, with thee to speak. 

sage, whose merits ne'er decay, 
Some word unto thy servant say." 

The sage his eyes on Rama bent, 
Of virtue's friends preeminent; 
Then words like these he spoke, and pressed 
The son of Raghu to his breast: 
"Welcome to thee, illustrious youth, 
Best champion of the rights of truth! 
By thine approach this holy ground 
A worthy lord this day has found. 

1 could not quit this mortal frame 



420 Near the celebrated Ramagiri or Rama's Hill, now Ram-tek, near Nag 
pore — the scene of the Yaksha's exile in the Messenger Cloud. 



Canto VII. Sutikshna. 833 

Till thou shouldst come, O dear to fame: 
To heavenly spheres I would not rise, 
Expecting thee with eager eyes. 
I knew that thou, unkinged, hadst made 
Thy home in Chitrakuta's shade. 
E'en now, O Rama, Indra, lord 
Supreme by all the Gods adored, 
King of the Hundred Offerings, 421 said, 
When he my dwelling visited, 
That the good works that I have done 
My choice of all the worlds have won. 
Accept this meed of holy vows, 
And with thy brother and thy spouse, 
Roam, through my favour, in the sky 
Which saints celestial glorify." 



To that bright sage, of penance stern, 
The high-souled Rama spake in turn, 
As Vasava 422 who rules the skies 
To Brahma's gracious speech replies: 
"I of myself those worlds will win, 
O mighty hermit pure from sin: 
But now, O saint, I pray thee tell 
Where I within this wood may dwell: 
For I by Sarabhanga old, 
The son of Gautama, was told 
That thou in every lore art wise, 
And seest all with loving eyes." 



421 A hundred Asvamedhas or sacrifices of a horse raise the sacrificer to the 
dignity of Indra. 



834 The Ramayana 

Thus to the saint, whose glories high 
Filled all the world, he made reply: 
And thus again the holy man 
His pleasant speech with joy began: 
"This calm retreat, O Prince, is blest 
With many a charm: here take thy rest. 
Here roots and kindly fruits abound, 
And hermits love the holy ground. 
Fair silvan beasts and gentle deer 
In herds unnumbered wander here: 
And as they roam, secure from harm, 
Our eyes with grace and beauty charm: 
Except the beasts in thickets bred, 
This grove of ours has naught to dread." 

The hermit's speech when Rama heard, — 
The hero ne'er by terror stirred, — 
On his great bow his hand he laid, 
And thus in turn his answer made: 
"O saint, my darts of keenest steel, 
Armed with their murderous barbs, would deal 
Destruction mid the silvan race 
That flocks around thy dwelling-place. 
Most wretched then my fate would be 
For such dishonour shown to thee: 
And only for the briefest stay 
Would I within this grove delay." 

He spoke and ceased. With pious care 
He turned him to his evening prayer, 
Performed each customary rite, 
And sought his lodging for the night, 
[237] With Sita and his brother laid 



Canto VIII. The Hermitage. 835 

Beneath the grove's delightful shade, 

First good Sutfkshna, as elsewhere, when he saw 

The shades of night around them draw, 

With hospitable care 
The princely chieftains entertained 
With store of choicest food ordained 

For holy hermit's fare. 



Canto VIII. The Hermitage. 



So Rama and Sumitra's son, 

When every honour due was done, 

Slept through the night. When morning broke, 

The heroes from their rest awoke. 

Betimes the son of Raghu rose, 

With gentle Sita, from repose, 

And sipped the cool delicious wave 

Sweet with the scent the lotus gave, 

Then to the Gods and sacred flame 

The heroes and the lady came, 

And bent their heads in honour meet 

Within the hermit's pure retreat. 

When every stain was purged away, 

They saw the rising Lord of Day: 

Then to Sutfkshna's side they went, 

And softly spoke, most reverent: 



836 The Ramayana 

"Well have we slept, O holy lord, 
Honoured of thee by all adored: 
Now leave to journey forth we pray: 
These hermits urge us on our way. 
We haste to visit, wandering by, 
The ascetics' homes that round you lie, 
And roaming Dandak's mighty wood 
To view each saintly brotherhood, 
For thy permission now we sue, 
With these high saints to duty true, 
By penance taught each sense to tame, — 
In lustre like the smokeless flame. 
Ere on our brows the sun can beat 
With fierce intolerable heat. 
Like some unworthy lord who wins 
His power by tyranny and sins, 
O saint, we fain would part." The three 
Bent humbly to the devotee. 
He raised the princes as they pressed 
His feet, and strained them to his breast; 
And then the chief of devotees 
Bespake them both in words like these: 
"Go with thy brother, Rama, go, 
Pursue thy path untouched by woe: 
Go with thy faithful Sita, she 
Still like a shadow follows thee. 
Roam Dandak wood observing well 
The pleasant homes where hermits dwell, — 
Pure saints whose ordered souls adhere 
To penance rites and vows austere. 
There plenteous roots and berries grow, 
And noble trees their blossoms show, 
And gentle deer and birds of air 
In peaceful troops are gathered there. 



Canto VIII. The Hermitage. 837 

There see the full-blown lotus stud 
The bosom of the lucid flood, 
And watch the joyous mallard shake 
The reeds that fringe the pool and lake. 
See with delighted eye the rill 
Leap sparkling from her parent hill, 
And hear the woods that round thee lie 
Reecho to the peacock's cry. 
And as I bid thy brother, so, 
Sumitra's child, I bid thee go. 
Go forth, these varied beauties see, 
And then once more return to me." 



Thus spake the sage Sutfkshna: both 
The chiefs assented, nothing loth, 
Round him with circling steps they paced, 
Then for the road prepared with haste. 
There Sita stood, the dame long-eyed, 
Fair quivers round their waists she tied, 
And gave each prince his trusty bow, 
And sword which ne'er a spot might know. 
Each took his quiver from her hand. 
And clanging bow and gleaming brand: 
Then from the hermits' home the two 
Went forth each woodland scene to view. 
Each beauteous in the bloom of age, 
Dismissed by that illustrious sage, 
With bow and sword accoutred, hied 
Away, and Sita by their side. 



838 The Ramayana 

Canto IX. SM's Speech. 

Blest by the sage, when Raghu's son 
His onward journey had begun, 
Thus in her soft tone Sita, meek 
With modest fear, began to speak: 
"One little slip the great may lead 
To shame that follows lawless deed: 
Such shame, my lord, as still must cling 
To faults from low desire that spring. 
Three several sins defile the soul, 
Born of desire that spurns control: 
First, utterance of a lying word, 
Then, viler both, the next, and third: 
The lawless love of other's wife, 
The thirst of blood uncaused by strife. 
The first, O Raghu's son, in thee 
None yet has found, none e'er shall see. 
Love of another's dame destroys 
All merit, lost for guilty joys: 
Rama, such crime in thee, I ween, 
Has ne'er been found, shall ne'er be seen: 
The very thought, my princely lord, 
[238] Is in thy secret soul abhorred. 

For thou hast ever been the same 
Fond lover of thine own dear dame, 
Content with faithful heart to do 
Thy father's will, most just and true: 
Justice, and faith, and many a grace 
In thee have found a resting-place. 
Such virtues, Prince, the good may gain 
Who empire o'er each sense retain; 
And well canst thou, with loving view 
Regarding all, each sense subdue. 



Canto IX. SM's Speech. 839 

But for the third, the lust that strives, 
Insatiate still, for others' lives, — 
Fond thirst of blood where hate is none, — 
This, O my lord, thou wilt not shun. 
Thou hast but now a promise made, 
The saints of Dandak wood to aid: 
And to protect their lives from ill 
The giants' blood in tight wilt spill: 
And from thy promise lasting fame 
Will glorify the forest's name. 
Armed with thy bow and arrows thou 
Forth with thy brother journeyest now, 
While as I think how true thou art 
Fears for thy bliss assail my heart, 
And all my spirit at the sight 
Is troubled with a strange affright. 
I like it not — it seems not good — 
Thy going thus to Dandak wood: 
And I, if thou wilt mark me well, 
The reason of my fear will tell. 
Thou with thy brother, bow in hand, 
Beneath those ancient trees wilt stand, 
And thy keen arrows will not spare 
Wood-rovers who will meet thee there. 
For as the fuel food supplies 
That bids the dormant flame arise, 
Thus when the warrior grasps his bow 
He feels his breast with ardour glow. 
Deep in a holy grove, of yore, 
Where bird and beast from strife forbore, 
Suchi beneath the sheltering boughs, 
A truthful hermit kept his vows. 
Then Indra, Sachi's heavenly lord, 
Armed like a warrior with a sword, 



840 The Ramayana 

Came to his tranquil home to spoil 

The hermit of his holy toil, 

And left the glorious weapon there 

Entrusted to the hermit's care, 

A pledge for him to keep, whose mind 

To fervent zeal was all resigned. 

He took the brand: with utmost heed 

He kept it for the warrior's need: 

To keep his trust he fondly strove 

When roaming in the neighbouring grove: 

Whene'er for roots and fruit he strayed 

Still by his side he bore the blade: 

Still on his sacred charge intent, 

He took his treasure when he went. 

As day by day that brand he wore, 

The hermit, rich in merit's store 

From penance rites each thought withdrew, 

And fierce and wild his spirit grew. 

With heedless soul he spurned the right, 

And found in cruel deeds delight. 

So, living with the sword, he fell, 

A ruined hermit, down to hell. 

This tale applies to those who deal 

Too closely with the warrior's steel: 

The steel to warriors is the same 

As fuel to the smouldering flame. 

Sincere affection prompts my speech: 

I honour where I fain would teach. 

Mayst thou, thus armed with shaft and bow, 

So dire a longing never know 

As, when no hatred prompts the fray, 

These giants of the wood to slay: 

For he who kills without offence 

Shall win but little glory thence. 



Canto IX. Sita's Speech. 841 

The bow the warrior joys to bend 
Is lent him for a nobler end, 
That he may save and succour those 
Who watch in woods when pressed by foes. 
What, matched with woods, is bow or steel? 
What, warrior's arm with hermit's zeal? 
We with such might have naught to do: 
The forest rule should guide us too. 
But when Ayodhya hails thee lord, 
Be then thy warrior life restored: 
So shall thy sire 423 and mother joy 
In bliss that naught may e'er destroy. 
And if, resigning empire, thou 
Submit thee to the hermit's vow, 
The noblest gain from virtue springs, 
And virtue joy unending brings. 
All earthly blessings virtue sends: 
On virtue all the world depends. 
Those who with vow and fasting tame 
To due restraint the mind and frame, 
Win by their labour, nobly wise, 
The highest virtue for their prize. 
Pure in the hermit's grove remain, 
True to thy duty, free from stain. 
But the three worlds are open thrown 
To thee, by whom all things are known. 
Who gave me power that I should dare 
His duty to my lord declare? 
'Tis woman's fancy, light as air, 
That moves my foolish breast. 



423 Gorresio observes that Dasaratha was dead and that Sita had been informed 
of his death. In his translation he substitutes for the words of the text "thy 
relations and mine." This is quite superfluous. Dasaratha though in heaven still 
took a loving interest in the fortunes of his son. 



[239] 



842 The Ramayana 

Now with thy brother counsel take, 
Reflect, thy choice with judgment make, 
And do what seems the best." 



Canto X. Rama's Reply. 



The words that Sita uttered, spurred 
By truest love, the hero heard: 
Then he who ne'er from virtue strayed 
To Janak's child his answer made: 
"In thy wise speech, sweet love, I find 
True impress of thy gentle mind, 
Well skilled the warrior's path to trace, 
Thou pride of Janak's ancient race. 
What fitting answer shall I frame 
To thy good words, my honoured dame? 
Thou sayst the warrior bears the bow 
That misery's tears may cease to flow; 
And those pure saints who love the shade 
Of Dandak wood are sore dismayed. 
They sought me of their own accord, 
With suppliant prayers my aid implored: 
They, fed on roots and fruit, who spend 
Their lives where bosky wilds extend, 
My timid love, enjoy no rest 
By these malignant fiends distressed. 
These make the flesh of man their meat: 
The helpless saints they kill and eat. 
The hermits sought my side, the chief 



Canto X. Rama's Reply. 843 

Of Brahman race declared their grief. 
I heard, and from my lips there fell 
The words which thou rememberest well: 
I listened as the hermits cried, 
And to their prayers I thus replied: 

"Your favour, gracious lords, I claim, 
O'erwhelmed with this enormous shame 
That Brahmans, great and pure as you, 
Who should be sought, to me should sue." 
And then before the saintly crowd, 
"What can I do?" I cried aloud. 
Then from the trembling hermits broke 
One long sad cry, and thus they spoke: 
"Fiends of the wood, who wear at will 
Each varied shape, afflict us still. 
To thee in our distress we fly: 
O help us, Rama, or we die. 
When sacred rites of fire are due, 
When changing moons are full or new, 
These fiends who bleeding flesh devour 
Assail us with resistless power. 
They with their cruel might torment 
The hermits on their vows intent: 
We look around for help and see 
Our surest refuge, Prince, in thee. 
We, armed with powers of penance, might 
Destroy the rovers of the night: 
But loth were we to bring to naught 
The merit years of toil have bought. 
Our penance rites are grown too hard, 
By many a check and trouble barred, 
But though our saints for food are slain 
The withering curse we yet restrain. 



844 The Ramayana 

Thus many a weary day distressed 
By giants who this wood infest, 
We see at length deliverance, thou 
With Lakshman art our guardian now." 



As thus the troubled hermits prayed, 
I promised, dame, my ready aid, 
And now — for truth I hold most dear — 
Still to my word must I adhere. 
My love, I might endure to be 
Deprived of Lakshman, life, and thee, 
But ne'er deny my promise, ne'er 
To Brahmans break the oath I sware. 
I must, enforced by high constraint, 
Protect them all. Each suffering saint 
In me, unasked, his help had found; 
Still more in one by promise bound. 
I know thy words, mine own dear dame, 
From thy sweet heart's affection came: 
I thank thee for thy gentle speech, 
For those we love are those we teach. 
'Tis like thyself, O fair of face, 
'Tis worthy of thy noble race: 
Dearer than life, thy feet are set 
In righteous paths they ne'er forget." 



Thus to the Maithil monarch's child, 
His own dear wife, in accents mild 

The high-souled hero said: 
Then to the holy groves which lay 
Beyond them fair to see, their way 

The bow-armed chieftain led. 



Canto XI. Agastya. 845 

Canto XI. Agastya. 

Rama went foremost of the three, 

Next Sita, followed, fair to see, 

And Lakshman with his bow in hand 

Walked hindmost of the little band. 

As onward through the wood they went, 

With great delight their eyes were bent 

On rocky heights beside the way 

And lofty trees with blossoms gay; 

And streamlets running fair and fast 

The royal youths with Sita passed. 

They watched the saras and the drake 

On islets of the stream and lake, 

And gazed delighted on the floods 

Bright with gay birds and lotus buds. 

They saw in startled herds the roes, 

The passion-frenzied buffaloes, 

Wild elephants who fiercely tore 

The tender trees, and many a boar. 

A length of woodland way they passed, 

And when the sun was low at last 

A lovely stream-fed lake they spied, 

Two leagues across from side to side. 

Tall elephants fresh beauty gave 

To grassy bank and lilied wave, [240] 

By many a swan and saras stirred, 

Mallard, and gay-winged water-bird. 

From those sweet waters, loud and long, 

Though none was seen to wake the song, 

Swelled high the singer's music blent 

With each melodious instrument. 

Rama and car-borne Lakshman heard 

The charming strain, with wonder stirred, 



846 The Ramayana 

Turned on the margent of the lake 

To Dharmabhrit 424 the sage, and spake: 

"Our longing souls, O hermit, burn 
This music of the lake to learn: 
We pray thee, noblest sage, explain 
The cause of the mysterious strain." 
He, as the son of Raghu prayed, 
With swift accord his answer made, 
And thus the hermit, virtuous-souled, 
The story of the fair lake told: 

"Through every age 'tis known to fame, 
Panchapsaras 425 its glorious name, 
By holy Mandakarni wrought 
With power his rites austere had bought. 
For he, great votarist, intent 
On strictest rule his stern life spent. 
Ten thousand years the stream his bed, 
Ten thousand years on air he fed. 
Then on the blessed Gods who dwell 
In heavenly homes great terror fell: 
They gathered all, by Agni led, 
And counselled thus disquieted: 
"The hermit by ascetic pain 
The seat of one of us would gain." 
Thus with their hearts by fear oppressed 
In full assembly spoke the Blest, 
And bade five loveliest nymphs, as fair 
As lightning in the evening air, 
Armed with their winning wiles, seduce 
From his stern vows the great recluse. 



425 The lake of the five nymphs. 



Canto XI. Agastya. 847 

Though lore of earth and heaven he knew, 
The hermit from his task they drew, 
And made the great ascetic slave 
To conquering love, the Gods to save. 
Each of the heavenly five became, 
Bound to the sage, his wedded dame; 
And he, for his beloved's sake, 
Formed a fair palace neath the lake. 
Under the flood the ladies live, 
To joy and ease their days they give, 
And lap in bliss the hermit wooed 
From penance rites to youth renewed. 
So when the sportive nymphs within 
Those secret bowers their play begin, 
You hear the singers' dulcet tones 
Blend sweetly with their tinkling zones." 

"How wondrous are these words of thine!" 
Cried the famed chiefs of Raghu's line, 
As thus they heard the sage unfold 
The marvels of the tale he told. 

As Rama spake, his eyes were bent 
Upon a hermit settlement 
With light of heavenly lore endued, 
With sacred grass and vesture strewed. 
His wife and brother by his side, 
Within the holy bounds he hied, 
And there, with honour entertained 
By all the saints, a while remained. 
In time, by due succession led, 
Each votary's cot he visited, 
And then the lord of martial lore, 
Returned where he had lodged before. 



848 The Ramayana 

Here for the months, content, he stayed, 

There for a year his visit paid: 

Here for four months his home would fix, 

There, as it chanced, for five or six. 

Here for eight months and there for three 

The son of Raghu's stay would be: 

Here weeks, there fortnights, more or less, 

He spent in tranquil happiness. 

As there the hero dwelt at ease 

Among those holy devotees, 

In days untroubled o'er his head 

Ten circling years of pleasure fled. 

So Raghu's son in duty trained 

A while in every cot remained, 

Then with his dame retraced the road 

To good Sutfkshna's calm abode. 

Hailed by the saints with honours due 

Near to the hermit's home he drew, 

And there the tamer of his foes 

Dwelt for a time in sweet repose. 

One day within that holy wood 

By saint Sutfkshna Rama stood, 

And thus the prince with reverence meek 

To that high sage began to speak: 

"In the wide woodlands that extend 
Around us, lord most reverend, 
As frequent voice of rumour tells, 
Agastya, saintliest hermit, dwells. 
So vast the wood, I cannot trace 
The path to reach his dwelling place, 
Nor, searching unassisted, find 
That hermit of the thoughtful mind. 
I with my wife and brother fain 



Canto XI. Agastya. 849 

Would go, his favour to obtain, 
Would seek him in his lone retreat 
And the great saint with reverence greet. 
This one desire, O Master, long 
Cherished within my heart, is strong, 
That I may pay of free accord 
My duty to that hermit lord." 

As thus the prince whose heart was bent 
On virtue told his firm intent, 
The good Sutfkshna's joy rose high, 
And thus in turn he made reply: 
"The very thing, O Prince, which thou 
Hast sought, I wished to urge but now, 

Bid thee with wife and brother see [24 1] 

Agastya, glorious devotee. 
I count this thing an omen fair 
That thou shouldst thus thy wish declare, 
And I, my Prince, will gladly teach 
The way Agastya's home to reach. 
Southward, dear son, direct thy feet 
Eight leagues beyond this still retreat: 
Agastya's hermit brother there 
Dwells in a home most bright and fair. 
'Tis on a knoll of woody ground, 
With many a branching Pippal 426 crowned: 
There sweet birds' voices ne'er are mute, 
And trees are gay with flower and fruit. 
There many a lake gleams bright and cool, 
And lilies deck each pleasant pool, 
While swan, and crane, and mallard's wings 
Are lovely in the water- springs. 
There for one night, O Rama, stay, 



426 The holy fig-tree. 



850 The Ramayana 

And with the dawn pursue thy way. 

Still farther, bending southward, by 

The thicket's edge the course must lie, 

And thou wilt see, two leagues from thence 

Agastya's lovely residence, 

Set in the woodland's fairest spot, 

All varied foliage decks the cot: 

There Sita, Lakshman thou, at ease 

May spend sweet hours neath shady trees, 

For all of noblest growth are found 

Luxuriant on that bosky ground. 

If it be still thy firm intent 

To see that saint preeminent, 

O mighty counsellor, this day 

Depart upon thine onward way." 

The hermit spake, and Rama bent 
His head, with Lakshman, reverent, 
And then with him and Janak's child 
Set out to trace the forest wild. 
He saw dark woods that fringed the road, 
And distant hills like clouds that showed, 
And, as the way he followed, met 
With many a lake and rivulet. 
So passing on with ease where led 
The path Sutfkshna bade him tread, 
The hero with exulting breast 
His brother in these words addressed: 

"Here, surely, is the home, in sight, 
Of that illustrious anchorite: 
Here great Agastya's brother leads 
A life intent on holy deeds. 
Warned of each guiding mark and sign, 



Canto XI. Agastya. 851 

I see them all herein combine: 

I see the branches bending low 

Beneath the flowers and fruit they show. 

A soft air from the forest springs, 

Fresh from the odorous grass, and brings 

A spicy fragrance as it flees 

O'er the ripe fruit of Pippal trees. 

See, here and there around us high 

Piled up in heaps cleft billets lie, 

And holy grass is gathered, bright 

As strips of shining lazulite. 

Full in the centre of the shade 

The hermits' holy fire is laid: 

I see its smoke the pure heaven streak 

Dense as a big cloud's dusky peak. 

The twice-born men their steps retrace 

From each sequestered bathing-place, 

And each his sacred gift has brought 

Of blossoms which his hands have sought. 

Of all these signs, dear brother, each 

Agrees with good Sutikshna's speech, 

And doubtless in this holy bound 

Agastya's brother will be found. 

Agastya once, the worlds who viewed 

With love, a Deathlike fiend subdued, 

And armed with mighty power, obtained 

By holy works, this grove ordained 

To be a refuge and defence 

From all oppressors' violence. 

In days of yore within this place 

Two brothers fierce of demon race, 

Vatapi dire and Ilval, dwelt, 

And slaughter mid the Brahmans dealt. 

A Brahman's form, the fiend to cloak, 



852 The Ramayana 

Fierce Ilval wore, and Sanskrit spoke, 

And twice-born sages would invite 

To solemnize some funeral rite. 

His brother's flesh, concealed within 

A ram's false shape and borrowed skin, — 

As men are wont at funeral feasts, — 

He dressed and fed those gathered priests. 

The holy men, unweeting ill, 

Took of the food and ate their fill. 

Then Ilval with a mighty shout 

Exclaimed "Vatapi, issue out." 

Soon as his brother's voice he heard, 

The fiend with ram-like bleating stirred: 

Rending in pieces every frame, 

Forth from the dying priests he came. 

So they who changed their forms at will 

Thousands of Brahmans dared to kill, — 

Fierce fiends who loved each cruel deed, 

And joyed on bleeding flesh to feed. 

Agastya, mighty hermit, pressed 

To funeral banquet like the rest, 

Obedient to the Gods' appeal 

Ate up the monster at a meal. 

"Tis done, 'tis done," fierce Ilval cried, 

And water for his hands supplied: 

Then lifting up his voice he spake: 

"Forth, brother, from thy prison break." 

Then him who called the fiend, who long 

Had wrought the suffering Brahmans wrong, 

Thus thoughtful-souled Agastya, best 

Of hermits, with a smile addressed: 

"How, Rakshas, is the fiend empowered 

To issue forth whom I devoured? 

Thy brother in a ram's disguise 



Canto XI. Agastya. 853 

Is gone where Yama's kingdom lies." [242] 

When from the words Agastya said 

He knew his brother fiend was dead, 

His soul on fire with vengeful rage, 

Rushed the night-rover at the sage. 

One lightning glance of fury, hot 

As fire, the glorious hermit shot, 

As the fiend neared him in his stride, 

And straight, consumed to dust, he died. 

In pity for the Brahmans' plight 

Agastya wrought this deed of might: 

This grove which lakes and fair trees grace 

In his great brother's dwelling place." 

As Rama thus the tale rehearsed, 
And with Sumitra's son conversed, 
The setting sun his last rays shed, 
And evening o'er the land was spread. 
A while the princely brothers stayed 
And even rites in order paid, 
Then to the holy grove they drew 
And hailed the saint with honour due. 
With courtesy was Rama met 
By that illustrious anchoret, 
And for one night he rested there 
Regaled with fruit and hermit fare. 
But when the night had reached its close, 
And the sun's glorious circle rose, 
The son of Raghu left his bed 
And to the hermit's brother said: 
"Well rested in thy hermit cell, 
I stand, O saint, to bid farewell; 
For with thy leave I journey hence 
Thy brother saint to reverence." 



854 The Ramayana 

"Go, Rama go," the sage replied: 

Then from the cot the chieftain hied. 

And while the pleasant grove he viewed, 

The path the hermit showed, pursued. 

Of every leaf, of changing hue. 

Plants, trees by hundreds round him grew, 

With joyous eyes he looked on all, 

Then Jak, 427 the wild rice, and Sal; 428 

He saw the red Hibiscus glow, 

He saw the flower-tipped creeper throw 

The glory of her clusters o'er 

Tall trees that loads of blossom bore. 

Some, elephants had prostrate laid, 

In some the monkeys leapt and played, 

And through the whole wide forest rang 

The charm of gay birds as they sang. 

Then Rama of the lotus eye 

To Lakshman turned who followed nigh, 

And thus the hero youth impressed 

With Fortune's favouring signs, addressed: 

"How soft the leaves of every tree, 
How tame each bird and beast we see! 
Soon the fair home shall we behold 
Of that great hermit tranquil-souled. 
The deed the good Agastya wrought 
High fame throughout the world has bought: 
I see, I see his calm retreat 
That balms the pain of weary feet. 
Where white clouds rise from flames beneath, 
Where bark-coats lie with many a wreath, 
Where silvan things, made gentle, throng, 



427 The bread-fruit tree, Artocarpus integrifolia. 

428 A fine timber tree, Shorea robusta. 



Canto XI. Agastya. 855 

And every bird is loud in song. 

With ruth for suffering creatures filled, 

A deathlike fiend with might he killed, 

And gave this southern realm to be 

A refuge, from oppression free. 

There stands his home, whose dreaded might 

Has put the giant crew to flight, 

Who view with envious eyes afar 

The peaceful shades they cannot mar. 

Since that most holy saint has made 

His dwelling in this lovely shade, 

Checked by his might the giant brood 

Have dwelt in peace with souls subdued. 

And all this southern realm, within 

Whose bounds no fiend may entrance win, 

Now bears a name which naught may dim, 

Made glorious through the worlds by him. 

When Vindhya, best of hills, would stay 

The journey of the Lord of Day, 

Obedient to the saint's behest 

He bowed for aye his humbled crest. 

That hoary hermit, world-renowned 

For holy deeds, within this ground 

Has set his pure and blessed home, 

Where gentle silvan creatures roam. 

Agastya, whom the worlds revere, 

Pure saint to whom the good are dear, 

To us his guests all grace will show, 

Enriched with blessings ere we go. 

I to this aim each thought will turn, 

The favour of the saint to earn, 

That here in comfort may be spent 

The last years of our banishment. 

Here sanctities and high saints stand, 



856 The Ramayana 

Gods, minstrels of the heavenly band; 
Upon Agastya's will they wait, 
And serve him, pure and temperate. 
The liar's tongue, the tyrant's mind 
Within these bounds no home may find: 
No cheat, no sinner here can be: 
So holy and so good is he. 
Here birds and lords of serpent race, 
Spirits and Gods who haunt the place, 
Content with scanty fare remain, 
As merit's meed they strive to gain. 
Made perfect here, the saints supreme, 
On cars that mock the Day-God's gleam, — 
Their mortal bodies cast aside, — 
Sought heaven transformed and glorified, 
Here Gods to living things, who win 
Their favour, pure from cruel sin, 
[243] Give royal rule and many a good, 

Immortal life and spirithood. 
Now, Lakshman, we are near the place: 
Do thou precede a little space, 
And tell the mighty saint that I 
With Sita at my side am nigh." 



Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow. 



He spoke: the younger prince obeyed: 
Within the bounds his way he made, 
And thus addressed, whom first he met, 
A pupil of the anchoret: 



Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow. 857 

"Brave Rama, eldest born, who springs, 
From Dasaratha, hither brings 
His wife the lady Sita: he 
Would fain the holy hermit see. 
Lakshman am I — if happy fame 
E'er to thine ears has brought the name — 
His younger brother, prompt to do 
His will, devoted, fond, and true. 
We, through our royal sire's decree, 
To the dread woods were forced to flee. 
Tell the great Master, I entreat, 
Our earnest wish our lord to greet." 



He spoke: the hermit rich in store 
Of fervid zeal and sacred lore, 
Sought the pure shrine which held the fire, 
To bear his message to the sire. 
Soon as he reached the saint most bright 
In sanctity's surpassing might, 
He cried, uplifting reverent hands: 
"Lord Rama near thy cottage stands." 
Then spoke Agastya's pupil dear 
The message for his lord to hear: 
"Rama and Lakshman, chiefs who spring 
From Dasaratha, glorious king, 
Thy hermitage e'en now have sought, 
And lady Sita with them brought. 
The tamers of the foe are here 
To see thee, Master, and revere. 
'Tis thine thy further will to say: 
Deign to command, and we obey." 



858 The Ramayana 

When from his pupil's lips he knew 
The presence of the princely two, 
And Sita born to fortune high. 
The glorious hermit made reply: 
"Great joy at last is mine this day 
That Rama hither finds his way, 
For long my soul has yearned to see 
The prince who comes to visit me. 
Go forth, go forth, and hither bring 
The royal three with welcoming: 
Lead Rama in and place him near: 
Why stands he not already here?" 

Thus ordered by the hermit, who, 
Lord of his thought, all duty knew, 
His reverent hands together laid, 
The pupil answered and obeyed. 
Forth from the place with speed he ran, 
To Lakshman came and thus began: 
"Where is he? let not Rama wait, 
But speed, the sage to venerate." 

Then with the pupil Lakshman went 
Across the hermit settlement, 
And showed him Rama where he stood 
With Janak's daughter in the wood. 
The pupil then his message spake 
Which the kind hermit bade him take; 
Then led the honoured Rama thence 
And brought him in with reverence. 
As nigh the royal Rama came 
With Lakshman and the Maithil dame, 
He viewed the herds of gentle deer 
Roaming the garden free from fear. 



Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow. 859 

As through the sacred grove he trod 
He viewed the seat of many a God, 
Brahma and Agni, 429 Sun and Moon, 
And His who sends each golden boon; 430 
Here Vishnu's stood, there Bhaga's 431 shrine, 
And there Mahendra's, Lord divine; 
Here His who formed this earthly frame, 432 
His there from whom all beings came. 433 
Vayu's, 434 and His who loves to hold 
The great noose, Varun 435 mighty- souled: 
Here was the Vasus' 436 shrine to see, 
Here that of sacred Gayatri, 437 
The king of serpents 438 here had place, 
And he who rules the feathered race. 439 
Here Kartikeya, 440 warrior lord, 
And there was Justice King adored. 
Then with disciples girt about 
The mighty saint himself came out: 
Through fierce devotion bright as flame 
Before the rest the Master came: 
And then to Lakshman, fortune blest, 
Rama these hasty words addressed: 
"Behold, Agastya's self draws near, 



430 Kuvera, the God of riches. 

431 The Sun. 

432 Brahma, the creator. 



435 The God of the sea. 

436 A class of demi-gods, eight in number. 

437 The holiest text of the Vedas, deified. 

438 Vasuki. 

439 Garud. 



860 The Ramayana 

The mighty saint, whom all revere: 
With spirit raised I meet my lord 
With richest wealth of penance stored." 

The strong-armed hero spake, and ran 
Forward to meet the sunbright man. 
Before him, as he came, he bent 
And clasped his feet most reverent, 
Then rearing up his stately height 
Stood suppliant by the anchorite, 
While Lakshman's strength and Sita's grace 
[244] Stood by the pride of Raghu's race. 

The sage his arms round Rama threw 
And welcomed him with honours due, 
Asked, was all well, with question sweet, 
And bade the hero to a seat. 
With holy oil he fed the flame, 
He brought the gifts which strangers claim, 
And kindly waiting on the three 
With honours due to high degree, 
He gave with hospitable care 
A simple hermit's woodland fare. 
Then sat the reverend father, first 
Of hermits, deep in duty versed. 
And thus to suppliant Rama, bred 
In all the lore of virtue, said: 
"Did the false hermit, Prince, neglect 
To hail his guest with due respect, 
He must, — the doom the perjured meet, — 
His proper flesh hereafter eat. 
A car-borne king, a lord who sways 
The earth, and virtue's law obeys, 
Worthy of highest honour, thou 
Hast sought, dear guest, my cottage now." 



Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow. 861 

He spoke: with fruit and hermit fare, 
With every bloom the branches bare, 
Agastya graced his honoured guest, 
And thus with gentle words addressed: 
"Accept this mighty bow, divine, 
Whereon red gold and diamonds shine; 
'Twas by the Heavenly Artist planned 
For Vishnu's own almighty hand; 
This God-sent shaft of sunbright hue, 
Whose deadly flight is ever true, 
By Lord Mahendra given of yore: 
This quiver with its endless store. 
Keen arrows hurtling to their aim 
Like kindled fires that flash and flame: 
Accept, in golden sheath encased, 
This sword with hilt of rich gold graced. 
Armed with this best of bows 
Lord Vishnu slew his demon foes, 
And mid the dwellers in the skies 
Won brilliant glory for his prize. 
The bow, the quivers, shaft, and sword 
Received from me, O glorious lord: 
These conquest to thine arm shall bring, 
As thunder to the thunder's King." 



The splendid hermit bade him take 
The noble weapons as he spake, 
And as the prince accepted each 
In words like these renewed his speech: 



862 The Ramayana 

Canto XIII. Agastya's Counsel. 

"O Rama, great delight I feel, 

Pleased, Lakshman, with thy faithful zeal, 

That you within these shades I see 

With Sita come to honour me. 

But wandering through the rough rude wild 

Has wearied Janak's gentle child: 

With labours of the way oppressed 

The Maithil lady longs for rest. 

Young, delicate, and soft, and fair, 

Such toils as these untrained to bear, 

Her wifely love the dame has led 

The forest's troubled ways to tread. 

Here, Rama, see that naught annoy 

Her easy hours of tranquil joy: 

A glorious task has she assayed, 

To follow thee through woodland shade. 

Since first from Nature's hand she came, 

A woman's mood is still the same, 

When Fortune smiles, her love to show, 

And leave her lord in want and woe. 

No pity then her heart can feel, 

She arms her soul with warrior's steel, 

Swift as the storm or Feathered King, 

Uncertain as the lightning's wing. 

Not so thy spouse: her purer mind 

Shrinks from the faults of womankind; 

Like chaste Arundhati 441 above, 

A paragon of faithful love. 

Let these blest shades, dear Rama, be 

A home for Lakshman, her, and thee." 



441 One of the Pleiades generally regarded as the model of wifely excellence. 



Canto XIII. Agastya's Counsel. 863 

With raised hands reverently meek 
He heard the holy hermit speak, 
And humbly thus addressed the sire 
Whose glory shone like kindled fire: 

"How blest am I, what thanks I owe 
That our great Master deigns to show 
His favour, that his heart can be 
Content with Lakshman, Sita, me. 
Show me, I pray, some spot of ground 
Where thick trees wave and springs abound, 
That I may raise my hermit cell 
And there in tranquil pleasure dwell." 

Then thus replied Agastya, best 
Of hermits, to the chiefs request: 
When for a little he had bent 
His thoughts, upon that prayer intent: 

"Beloved son, four leagues away 
Is Panchavati bright and gay: 
Thronged with its deer, most fair it looks 
With berries, fruit, and water-brooks. 
There build thee with thy brother's aid 
A cottage in the quiet shade, 
And faithful to thy sire's behest, 
Obedient to the sentence, rest. 
For well, O sinless chieftain, well 
I know thy tale, how all befell: 
Stern penance and the love I bore 
Thy royal sire supply the lore. 
To me long rites and fervid zeal 
The wish that stirs thy heart reveal, 
And hence my guest I bade thee be, 
That this pure grove might shelter thee. [245] 



864 The Ramayana 

So now, thereafter, thus I speak: 

The shades of Panchavati seek; 

That tranquil spot is bright and fair, 

And Sita will be happy there. 

Not far remote from here it lies, 

A grove to charm thy loving eyes, 

Godavarfs pure stream is nigh: 

There Sita's days will sweetly fly. 

Pure, lovely, rich in many a charm, 

O hero of the mighty arm, 

'Tis gay with every plant and fruit, 

And throngs of gay buds never mute. 

Thou, true to virtue's path, hast might 

To screen each trusting anchorite, 

And wilt from thy new home defend 

The hermits who on thee depend. 

Now yonder, Prince, direct thine eyes 

Where dense Madhuka 442 woods arise: 

Pierce their dark shade, and issuing forth 

Turn to a fig-tree on the north: 

Then onward up a sloping mead 

Flanked by a hill the way will lead: 

There Panchavati, ever gay 

With ceaseless bloom, thy steps will stay." 

The hermit ceased: the princely two 
With seemly honours bade adieu: 
With reverential awe each youth 
Bowed to the saint whose word was truth, 
And then, dismissed with Sita, they 
To Panchavati took their way. 
Thus when each royal prince had grasped 



442 The Madhuka, or, as it is now called, Mahuwa, is the Bassia latifolia, a tree 
from whose blossoms a spirit is extracted. 



Canto XIV. Jatayus. 865 

His warrior's mighty bow, and clasped 

His quiver to his side, 
With watchful eyes along the road 
The glorious saint Agastya showed, 
Dauntless in fight the brothers strode, 

And Sita with them hied. 



Canto XIV. Jatayus. 



Then as the son of Raghu made 
His way to Panchavatfs shade, 
A mighty vulture he beheld 
Of size and strength unparalleled. 
The princes, when the bird they saw, 
Approached with reverence and awe, 
And as his giant form they eyed, 
"Tell who thou art," in wonder cried. 
The bird, as though their hearts to gain, 
Addressed them thus in gentlest strain; 
"In me, dear sons, the friend behold 
Your royal father loved of old." 

He spoke: nor long did Rama wait 
His sire's dear friend to venerate: 
He bade the bird declare his name 
And the high race of which he came. 
When Raghu's son had spoken, he 
Declared his name and pedigree, 
His words prolonging to disclose 
How all the things that be arose: 



866 The Ramayana 

"List while I tell, O Raghu's son, 
The first-born Fathers, one by one, 
Great Lords of Life, whence all in earth 
And all in heaven derive their birth. 
First Kardam heads the glorious race 
Where Vikrit holds the second place, 
With Sesha, Sansray next in line, 
And Bahuputra's might divine. 
Then Sthanu and Marichi came, 
Atri, and Kratu's forceful frame. 
Pulastya followed, next to him 
Angiras' name shall ne'er be dim. 
Prachetas, Pulah next, and then 
Daksha, Vivasvat praised of men: 
Arishtanemi next, and last 
Kasyap in glory unsurpassed. 
From Daksha, — fame the tale has told — : 
Three-score bright daughters sprang of old. 
Of these fair-waisted nymphs the great 
Lord Kasyap sought and wedded eight, 
Aditi, Diti, Kalaka, 
Tamra, Danu, and Anala, 
And Krodhavasa swift to ire, 
And Manu 443 glorious as her sire. 



443 "I should have doubted whether Manu could have been the right reading 
here, but that it occurs again in verse 29, where it is in like manner followed 
in verse 31 by Anala, so that it would certainly seem that the name Manu is 
intended to stand for a female, the daughter of Daksha. The Gauda recension, 
followed by Signor Gorresio (III 20, 12), adopts an entirely different reading at 
the end of the line, viz. BaldmAtibaldm api, 'Bala and Atibila,' instead of Manu 
and Anala. I see that Professor Roth s.v. adduces the authority of the Amara 
Kosha and of the Commentator on Panini for stating that the word sometimes 
means 'the wife of Manu.' In the following text of the Mahabharata I. 2553. 
also, Manu appears to be the name of a female: 'Anaradyam, Manum, Vansdm, 
Asurdm, Mdrganapriydm, Anupdm, Subhagdm, Bhdsim iti, Prddhd vyajayata. 



Canto XIV. Jatayus. 867 

Then when the mighty Kasyap cried 

Delighted to each tender bride: 

"Sons shalt thou bear, to rule the three 

Great worlds, in might resembling me." [246] 

Aditi, Diti, and Danii 

Obeyed his will as consorts true, 

And Kalaka; but all the rest 

Refused to hear their lord's behest. 

First Aditi conceived, and she, 

Mother of thirty Gods and three, 

The Vasus and Adityas bare, 

Rudras, and Asvins, heavenly pair. 

Of Diti sprang the Daityas: fame 

Delights to laud their ancient name. 

In days of yore their empire dread 

O'er earth and woods and ocean spread. 

Danii was mother of a child, 

O hero, Asvagriva styled, 

And Narak next and Kalak came 

Of Kalaka, celestial dame. 

Of Tamra, too, five daughters bright 

In deathless glory sprang to light. 

Ennobling fame still keeps alive 

The titles of the lovely five: 

Immortal honour still she claims 

For Kraunchi, Bhasi, Syeni's names. 

And wills not that the world forget 

Suki or Dhritarashtri yet. 

Then Kraunchi bare the crane and owl, 

And Bhasi tribes of water fowl: 

Vultures and hawks that race through air 

With storm-fleet pinions Syeni bare. 



Pradha (daughter of Daksha) bore Anavadya, Manu, Vansa, Marganapriya, 
Aniipa, Subhaga. and Bhasi.' " Muir's Sanskrit Text, Vol. I. p. 116. 



868 The Ramayana 

All swans and geese on mere and brook 

Their birth from Dhritarashtri took, 

And all the river-haunting brood 

Of ducks, a countless multitude. 

From Suki Nala sprang, who bare 

Dame Vinata surpassing fair. 

From fiery Krodhavasa, ten 

Bright daughters sprang, O King of men: 

Mrigi and Mrigamanda named, 

Hari and Bhadramada famed, 

Sarduli, Sveta fair to see, 

Matangi bright, and Surabhi, 

Surasa marked with each fair sign, 

And Kadruma, all maids divine. 

Mrigi, O Prince without a peer, 

Was mother of the herds of deer, 

The bear, the yak, the mountain roe 

Their birth to Mrigamanda owe; 

And Bhadramada joyed to be 

Mother of fair Iravati, 

Who bare Airavat, 444 huge of mould, 

Mid warders of the earth enrolled, 

From Han lordly lions trace, 

With monkeys of the wild, their race. 

From the great dame Sarduli styled 

Sprung pards, Langiirs, 445 and tigers wild. 

Matangi, Prince, gave birth to all 

Matangas, elephants strong and tall, 

And Sveta bore the beasts who stand 

One at each wind, earth's warder band. 446 



444 The elephant of Indra. 



445 Goldngulas, described as a kind of monkey, of a black colour, and having 
a tail like a cow. 

446 Eight elephants attached to the four quarters and intermediate points of the 



Canto XIV. Jatayus. 869 

Next Surabhi the Goddess bore 

Two heavenly maids, O Prince, of yore, 

Gandharvi — dear to fame is she — 

And her sweet sister Rohini. 

With kine this daughter filled each mead, 

And bright Gandharvi bore the steed. 447 

Surasa bore the serpents: 448 all 

The snakes Kadni their mother call. 

Then Manu, high-souled Kasyap's 449 wife, 

To all the race of men gave life, 

The Brahmans first, the Kshatriya caste, 

Then Vaisyas, and the Siidras last. 

Sprang from her mouth the Brahman race; 

Her chest the Kshatriyas' natal place: 

The Vaisyas from her thighs, 'tis said, 

The Siidras from her feet were bred. 

From Anala all trees that hang 

Their fair fruit-laden branches sprang. 

The child of beauteous Suki bore 

Vinata, as I taught before: 

And Surasa and Kadni were 

Born of one dame, a noble pair. 

Kadni gave birth to countless snakes 

That roam the earth in woods and brakes. 

Arun and Garud swift of flight 



compass, to support and guard the earth. 

447 Some scholars identify the centaurs with the Gandharvas. 

448 The hooded serpents, says the commentator Tirtha, were the offspring of 
Surasa: all others of Kadni. 

449 The text reads Kasyapa, "a descendant of Kasyapa," who according to Ram. 
II. 10, 6, ought to be Vivasvat. But as it is stated in the preceding part of this 
passage III. 14, 1 1 f . that Manu was one of Kasyapa's eight wives, we must here 
read Kasyap. The Ganda recension reads (III, 20, 30) Manur manushydms cha 
tatha janaydmdsa Rdghana, instead of the corresponding line in the Bombay 
edition. Muir's Sanskrit Text, Vol I, p. 117. 



870 The Ramayana 

By Vinata were given to light, 

And sons of Arun red as morn 

Sampati first, then I was born, 

Me then, O tamer of the foe, 

Jatayus, son of Syeni, know. 

Thy ready helper will I be, 

And guard thy house, if thou agree: 

When thou and Lakshman urge the chase 

By Sita's side shall be my place." 

With courteous thanks for promised aid, 

The prince, to rapture stirred, 
Bent low, and due obeisance paid, 
[247] Embraced the royal bird. 

He often in the days gone by 

Had heard his father tell 
How, linked with him in friendship's tie, 

He loved Jatayus well. 
He hastened to his trusted friend 

His darling to confide, 
And through the wood his steps to bend 

By strong Jatayus' side. 
On to the grove, with Lakshman near, 

The prince his way pursued 
To free those pleasant shades from fear 

And slay the giant brood. 



Canto XV. Panchavati. 



Canto XV. Panchavati. 871 

Arrived at Panchavati's shade 
Where silvan life and serpents strayed, 
Rama in words like these addressed 
Lakshman of vigour unrepressed: 

"Brother, our home is here: behold 
The grove of which the hermit told: 
The bowers of Panchavati see 
Made fair by every blooming tree. 
Now, brother, bend thine eyes around; 
With skilful glance survey the ground: 
Here be some spot selected, best 
Approved for gentle hermits' rest, 
Where thou, the Maithil dame, and I 
May dwell while seasons sweetly fly. 
Some pleasant spot be chosen where 
Pure waters gleam and trees are fair, 
Some nook where flowers and wood are found 
And sacred grass and springs abound." 

Then Lakshman, Sita standing by, 
Raised reverent hands, and made reply: 

"A hundred years shall flee, and still 
Will I obey my brother's will: 
Select thyself a pleasant spot; 
Be mine the care to rear the cot." 
The glorious chieftain, pleased to hear 
That loving speech that soothed his ear, 
Selected with observant care 
A spot with every charm most fair. 
He stood within that calm retreat, 
A shade for hermits' home most meet, 
And thus Sumitra's son addressed, 
While his dear hand in his he pressed: 



872 The Ramayana 

"See, see this smooth and lovely glade 
Which flowery trees encircling shade: 
Do thou, beloved Lakshman rear 
A pleasant cot to lodge us here. 
I see beyond that feathery brake 
The gleaming of a lilied lake, 
Where flowers in sunlike glory throw 
Fresh odours from the wave below. 
Agastya's words now find we true, 
He told the charms which here we view: 
Here are the trees that blossom o'er 
Godavarfs most lovely shore. 
Whose pleasant flood from side to side 
With swans and geese is beautified, 
And fair banks crowded with the deer 
That steal from every covert near. 
The peacock's cry is loud and shrill 
From many a tall and lovely hill, 
Green-belted by the trees that wave 
Full blossoms o'er the rock and cave. 
Like elephants whose huge fronts glow 
With painted streaks, the mountains show 
Long lines of gold and silver sheen 
With copper's darker hues between. 
With every tree each hill is graced, 
Where creepers blossom interlaced. 
Look where the Sal's long branches sway, 
And palms their fanlike leaves display; 
The date-tree and the Jak are near, 
And their long stems Tamalas rear. 
See the tall Mango lift his head, 
Asokas all their glory spread, 
The Ketak her sweet buds unfold, 



Canto XV. Panchavati. 873 

And Champacs hang their cups of gold. 450 
The spot is pure and pleasant: here 
Are multitudes of birds and deer. 
O Lakshman, with our father's friend 
What happy hours we here shall spend!" 

He spoke: the conquering Lakshman heard, 
Obedient to his brother's word. 
Raised by his toil a cottage stood 
To shelter Rama in the wood, 
Of ample size, with leaves o'erlaid, 
Of hardened earth the walls were made. 
The strong bamboos his hands had felled 
For pillars fair the roof upheld, 
And rafter, beam, and lath supplied 
Well interwrought from side to side. 
Then Sami 451 boughs he deftly spread 
Enlaced with knotted cord o'erhead, 
Well thatched above from ridge to eaves 
With holy grass, and reed, and leaves. 
The mighty chief with careful toil 

Had cleared the ground and smoothed the soil [248] 

Where now, his loving labour done, 
Rose a fair home for Raghu's son. 
Then when his work was duly wrought, 
Godavaris sweet stream he sought, 
Bathed, plucked the lilies, and a store 



450 The original verses merely name the trees. I have been obliged to amplify 
slightly and to omit some quas versu dicere non est; e.g. the tinisa (Dalber- 
gia ougeiniensis), punndga (Rottleria tinctoria), tilaka (not named), syandana 
(Dalbergia ougeiniensis again), vandana (unknown), nipa (Nauclea Kadamba), 
lakucha (Artoearpus lacucha), dhava (Grislea tomentosa), Asvakarna (another 
name for the Sal), Sami (Acacia Suma), khadira (Mimosa catechu), kinsuka 
(Butea frondosa), pdtala (Bignonia suaveolens). 



874 The Ramayana 

Of fruit and berries homeward bore. 
Then sacrifice he duly paid, 
And wooed the Gods their hopes to aid, 
And then to Rama proudly showed 
The cot prepared for his abode. 
Then Raghu's son with Sita gazed 
Upon the home his hands had raised, 
And transport thrilled his bosom through 
His leafy hermitage to view. 
The glorious son of Raghu round 
His brother's neck his arms enwound, 
And thus began his sweet address 
Of deep-felt joy and gentleness: 
"Well pleased am I, dear lord, to see 
This noble work performed by thee. 
For this, — sole grace I can bestow, — 
About thy neck mine arms I throw. 
So wise art thou, thy breast is filled 
With grateful thoughts, in duty skilled, 
Our mighty father, free from stain, 
In thee, his offspring, lives again." 



Thus spoke the prince, who lent a grace 
To fortune, pride of Raghu's race; 
Then in that spot whose pleasant shade 
Gave store of fruit, content he stayed. 
With Lakshman and his Maithil spouse 
He spent his day's neath sheltering boughs, 
As happy as a God on high 
Lives in his mansion in the sky. 



Canto XVI. Winter. 875 

Canto XVI. Winter. 



While there the high-souled hero spent 
His tranquil hours in sweet content, 
The glowing autumn passed, and then 
Came winter so beloved of men. 

One morn, to bathe, at break of day 
To the fair stream he took his way. 
Behind him, with the Maithil dame 
Bearing a pitcher Lakshman came, 
And as he went the mighty man 
Thus to his brother chief began: 

"The time is come, to thee more dear 
Than all the months that mark the year: 
The gracious seasons' joy and pride, 
By which the rest are glorified. 
A robe of hoary rime is spread 
O'er earth, with corn engarlanded. 
The streams we loved no longer please, 
But near the fire we take our ease. 
Now pious men to God and shade 
Offer young corn's fresh sprouted blade, 
And purge away their sins with rice 
Bestowed in humble sacrifice. 
Rich stores of milk delight the swain, 
And hearts are cheered that longed for gain, 
Proud kings whose breasts for conquests glow 
Lead bannered troops to smite the foe. 
Dark is the north: the Lord of Day 
To Yama's south 452 has turned away: 



452 The south is supposed to be the residence of the departed. 



876 The Ramayana 

And she — sad widow — shines no more, 
Reft of the bridal mark 453 she wore. 
Himalaya's hill, ordained of old 
The treasure-house of frost and cold, 
Scarce conscious of the feebler glow, 
Is truly now the Lord of Snow. 
Warmed by the noontide's genial rays 
Delightful are the glorious days: 
But how we shudder at the chill 
Of evening shadows and the rill ! 
How weak the sun, how cold the breeze! 
How white the rime on grass and trees! 
The leaves are sere, the woods have lost 
Their blossoms killed by nipping frost. 
Neath open skies we sleep no more: 
December's nights with rime are hoar: 
Their triple watch 454 in length extends 
With hours the shortened daylight lends. 
No more the moon's sun-borrowed rays 
Are bright, involved in misty haze, 
As when upon the mirror's sheen 
The breath's obscuring cloud is seen. 
E'en at the full the faint beams fail 
To struggle through the darksome veil: 
Changed like her hue, they want the grace 
That parts not yet from Sita's face. 
Cold is the western wind, but how 
Its piercing chill is heightened now, 
Blowing at early morning twice 
As furious with its breath of ice! 
See how the dewy tears they weep 
The barley, wheat, and woodland steep, 



453 The sun. 

454 The night is divided into three watches of four hours each. 



Canto XVI. Winter. 877 

Where, as the sun goes up the sky, 

The curlew and the saras cry. 

See where the rice plants scarce uphold 

Their full ears tinged with paly gold, 

Bending their ripe heads slowly down 

Fair as the date tree's flowery crown. 

Though now the sun has mounted high 

Seeking the forehead of the sky, 

Such mist obscures his struggling beams, 

No bigger than the moon he seems. 

Though weak at first, his rays at length 

Grow pleasant in their noonday strength, 

And where a while they chance to fall 

Fling a faint splendour over all. [249] 

See, o'er the woods where grass is wet 

With hoary drops that cling there yet, 

With soft light clothing earth and bough 

There steals a tender glory now. 

Yon elephant who longs to drink, 

Still standing on the river's brink, 

Plucks back his trunk in shivering haste 

From the cold wave he fain would taste. 

The very fowl that haunt the mere 

Stand doubtful on the bank, and fear 

To dip them in the wintry wave 

As cowards dread to meet the brave. 

The frost of night, the rime of dawn 

Bind flowerless trees and glades of lawn: 

Benumbed in apathetic chill 

Of icy chains they slumber still. 

You hear the hidden saras cry 

From floods that wrapped in vapour lie, 

And frosty-shining sands reveal 

Where the unnoticed rivers steal. 



878 The Ramayana 

The hoary rime of dewy night, 

And suns that glow with tempered light 

Lend fresh cool flavours to the rill 

That sparkles from the topmost hill. 

The cold has killed the lily's pride: 

Leaf, filament, and flower have died: 

With chilling breath rude winds have blown, 

The withered stalk is left alone. 

At this gay time, O noblest chief, 

The faithful Bharat, worn by grief, 

Lives in the royal town where he 

Spends weary hours for love of thee. 

From titles, honour, kingly sway, 

From every joy he turns away: 

Couched on cold earth, his days are passed 

With scanty fare and hermit's fast. 

This moment from his humble bed 

He lifts, perhaps, his weary head, 

And girt by many a follower goes 

To bathe where silver Sarjii flows. 

How, when the frosty morn is dim, 

Shall Sarjii be a bath for him 

Nursed with all love and tender care, 

So delicate and young and fair. 

How bright his hue! his brilliant eye 

With the broad lotus leaf may vie. 

By fortune stamped for happy fate, 

His graceful form is tall and straight. 

In duty skilled, his words are truth: 

He proudly rules each lust of youth. 

Though his strong arm smites down the foe, 

In gentle speech his accents flow. 

Yet every joy has he resigned 

And cleaves to thee with heart and mind. 



Canto XVI. Winter. 879 

Thus by the deeds that he has done 
A name in heaven has Bharat won, 
For in his life he follows yet 
Thy steps, O banished anchoret. 
Thus faithful Bharat, nobly wise, 
The proverb of the world belies: 
"No men, by mothers' guidance led, 
The footsteps of their fathers tread." 
How could Kaikeyi, blest to be 
Spouse of the king our sire, and see 
A son like virtuous Bharat, blot 
Her glory with so foul a plot!" 

Thus in fraternal love he spoke, 
And from his lips reproaches broke: 
But Rama grieved to hear him chide 
The absent mother, and replied: 

"Cease, O beloved, cease to blame 
Our royal father's second dame. 
Still speak of Bharat first in place 
Of old Ikshvaku's princely race. 
My heart, so firmly bent but now 
To dwell in woods and keep my vow, 
Half melting as I hear thee speak 
Of Bharat's love, grows soft and weak, 
With tender joy I bring to mind 
His speeches ever sweet and kind. 
That dear as Amrit took the sense 
With most enchanting influence. 
Ah, when shall I, no more to part, 
Meet Bharat of the mighty heart? 
When, O my brother, when shall we 
The good and brave Satrughna see?" 



880 The Ramayana 

Thus as he poured his fond lament 
The son of Raghu onward went: 
They reached the river, and the three 
Bathed them in fair Godavari. 
Libations of the stream they paid 
To every deity and shade, 
With hymns of praise, the Sun on high 
And sinless Gods to glorify. 
Fresh from the purifying tide 

Resplendent Rama came, 
With Lakshman ever by his side, 

And the sweet Maithil dame. 
So Rudra shines by worlds adored, 

In glory undefiled, 
When Nandi 455 stands beside his lord, 

And King Himalaya's child. 456 



Canto XVII. Surpanakha. 



The bathing and the prayer were o'er; 
He turned him from the grassy shore, 
And with his brother and his spouse 
Sought his fair home beneath the boughs. 
Sita and Lakshman by his side, 
On to his cot the hero hied, 
And after rites at morning due 
[250] Within the leafy shade withdrew. 



The chief chamberlain and attendant of Siva or Rudra. 
456 Uma or Parvati, the consort of Siva. 



Canto XVII. Surpanakha. 

Then, honoured by the devotees, 

As royal Rama sat at ease, 

With Sita near him, o'er his head 

A canopy of green boughs spread, 

He shone as shines the Lord of Night 

By Chitra's 457 side, his dear delight. 

With Lakshman there he sat and told 

Sweet stories of the days of old, 

And as the pleasant time he spent 

With heart upon each tale intent, 

A giantess, by fancy led, 

Came wandering to his leafy shed. 

Fierce Surpanakha, — her of yore 

The Ten-necked tyrant's mother bore, — 

Saw Rama with his noble mien 

Bright as the Gods in heaven are seen; 

Him from whose brow a glory gleamed, 

Like lotus leaves his full eyes beamed: 

Long-armed, of elephantine gait, 

With hair close coiled in hermit plait: 

In youthful vigour, nobly framed, 

By glorious marks a king proclaimed: 

Like some bright lotus lustrous-hued, 

With young Kandarpa's 458 grace endued: 

As there like Indra's self he shone, 

She loved the youth she gazed upon. 

She grim of eye and foul of face 

Loved his sweet glance and forehead's grace: 

She of unlovely figure, him 

Of stately form and shapely limb: 

She whose dim locks disordered hung, 

Him whose bright hair on high brows clung: 



457 A star, one of the favourites of the Moon. 



882 The Ramayana 

She whose fierce accents counselled fear, 
Him whose soft tones were sweet to hear: 
She whose dire form with age was dried, 
Him radiant in his youthful pride: 
She whose false lips maintained the wrong, 
Him in the words of virtue strong: 
She cruel-hearted, stained with sin, 
Him just in deed and pure within. 
She, hideous fiend, a thing to hate, 
Him formed each eye to captivate: 
Fierce passion in her bosom woke, 
And thus to Raghu's son she spoke: 

"With matted hair above thy brows, 
With bow and shaft and this thy spouse, 
How hast thou sought in hermit dress 
The giant-haunted wilderness? 
What dost thou here? The cause explain: 
Why art thou come, and what to gain?" 
As Surpanakha questioned so, 
Rama, the terror of the foe, 
In answer to the monster's call, 
With fearless candour told her all. 
"King Dasaratha reigned of old, 
Like Gods celestial brave and bold. 
I am his eldest son and heir, 
And Rama is the name I bear. 
This brother, Lakshman, younger born, 
Most faithful love to me has sworn. 
My wife, this princess, dear to fame, 
Is Sita the Videhan dame. 
Obedient to my sire's behest 
And by the queen my mother pressed, 
To keep the law and merit win, 



Canto XVII. Surpanakha. 883 

I sought this wood to harbour in. 

But speak, for I of thee in turn 

Thy name, and race, and sire would learn. 

Thou art of giant race, I ween. 

Changing at will thy form and mien. 

Speak truly, and the cause declare 

That bids thee to these shades repair." 

Thus Rama spoke: the demon heard, 
And thus replied by passion spurred: 
"Of giant race, what form soe'er 
My fancy wills, 'tis mine to wear. 
Named Surpanakha here I stray, 
And where I walk spread wild dismay. 
King Ravan is my brother: fame 
Has taught perchance his dreaded name, 
Strong Kumbhakarna slumbering deep 
In chains of never-ending sleep: 
Vibhishan of the duteous mind, 
In needs unlike his giant kind: 
Dushan and Khara, brave and bold 
Whose fame by every tongue is told: 
Their might by mine is far surpassed; 
But when, O best of men, I cast 
These fond eyes on thy form, I see 
My chosen love and lord in thee. 
Endowed with wondrous might am I: 
Where'er my fancy leads I fly. 
The poor misshapen Sita leave, 
And me, thy worthier bride receive. 
Look on my beauty, and prefer 
A spouse more meet than one like her: 
I'll eat that ill-formed woman there: 
Thy brother too her fate shall share. 



884 The Ramayana 

But come, beloved, thou shalt roam 
With me through all our woodland home; 
Each varied grove with me shalt seek, 
And gaze upon each mountain peak." 

As thus she spoke, the monster gazed 
With sparkling eyes where passion blazed: 
Then he, in lore of language learned, 
This answer eloquent returned: 



Canto XVIII. The Mutilation. 

On her ensnared in Kama's net 
[251] His eyes the royal Rama set, 

And thus, her passion to beguile, 
Addressed her with a gentle smile: 

"I have a wife: behold her here, 
My Sita ever true and dear: 
And one like thee will never brook 
Upon a rival spouse to look. 
But there my brother Lakshman stands: 
Unchained is he by nuptial bands: 
A youth heroic, loved of all, 
Gracious and gallant, fair and tall. 
With winning looks, most nobly bred, 
Unmatched till now, he longs to wed. 
Meet to enjoy thy youthful charms, 
O take him to thy loving arms. 
Enamoured on his bosom lie, 
Fair damsel of the radiant eye, 
As the warm sunlight loves to rest 
Upon her darling Meru's breast." 



Canto XVIII. The Mutilation. 885 

The hero spoke, the monster heard, 
While passion still her bosom stirred. 
Away from Rama's side she broke, 
And thus in turn to Lakshman spoke: 
"Come, for thy bride take me who shine 
In fairest grace that suits with thine. 
Thou by my side from grove to grove 
Of Dandaks wild in bliss shalt rove." 



Then Lakshman, skilled in soft address, 
Wooed by the amorous giantess, 
With art to turn her love aside, 
To Surpanakha thus replied: 



"And can so high a dame agree 
The slave-wife of a slave to be? 
I, lotus-hued! in good and ill 
Am bondsman to my brother's will. 
Be thou, fair creature radiant-eyed, 
My honoured brother's younger bride: 
With faultless tint and dainty limb, 
A happy wife, bring joy to him. 
He from his spouse grown old and grey, 
Deformed, untrue, will turn away, 
Her withered charms will gladly leave, 
And to his fair young darling cleave. 
For who could be so fond and blind, 
O loveliest of all female kind, 
To love another dame and slight 
Thy beauties rich in all delight?" 



886 The Ramayana 

Thus Lakshman praised in scornful jest 
The long-toothed fiend with loathly breast, 
Who fondly heard his speech, nor knew 
His mocking words were aught but true. 
Again inflamed with love she fled 
To Rama, in his leafy shed 
Where Sita rested by his side, 
And to the mighty victor cried: 

"What, Rama, canst thou blindly cling 
To this old false misshapen thing? 
Wilt thou refuse the charms of youth 
For withered breast and grinning tooth! 
Canst thou this wretched creature prize 
And look on me with scornful eyes? 
This aged crone this very hour 
Before thy face will I devour: 
Then joyous, from all rivals free. 
Through Dandak will I stray with thee." 

She spoke, and with a glance of flame 
Rushed on the fawn-eyed Maithil dame: 
So would a horrid meteor mar 
Fair Rohini's soft beaming star. 
But as the furious fiend drew near, 
Like Death's dire noose which chills with fear, 
The mighty chief her purpose stayed, 
And spoke, his brother to upbraid: 
"Ne'er should we jest with creatures rude, 
Of savage race and wrathful mood. 
Think, Lakshman, think how nearly slain 
My dear Videhan breathes again. 
Let not the hideous wretch escape 
Without a mark to mar her shape. 



Canto XVIII. The Mutilation. 887 

Strike, lord of men, the monstrous fiend, 
Deformed, and foul, and evil-miened." 

He spoke: then Lakshman's wrath rose high, 
And there before his brother's eye, 
He drew that sword which none could stay, 
And cleft her nose and ears away. 
Noseless and earless, torn and maimed, 
With fearful shrieks the fiend exclaimed, 
And frantic in her wild distress 
Resought the distant wilderness. 
Deformed, terrific, huge, and dread, 
As on she moved, her gashes bled, 
And groan succeeded groan as loud 
As roars, ere rain, the thunder cloud. 
Still on the fearful monster passed, 
While streams of blood kept falling fast, 
And with a roar, and arms outspread 
Within the boundless wood she fled. 
To Janasthan the monster flew; 

Fierce Khara there she found, 
With chieftains of the giant crew 

In thousands ranged around. 
Before his awful feet she bent 

And fell with piercing cries, 
As when a bolt in swift descent 

Comes flashing from the skies. 
There for a while with senses dazed 

Silent she lay and scared: 
At length her drooping head she raised, 

And all the tale declared, 
How Rama, Lakshman, and the dame 

Had reached that lonely place: 
Then told her injuries and shame, 



888 The Ramayana 

And showed her bleeding face. 



Canto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara. 



When Khara saw his sister lie 
[252] With blood-stained limbs and troubled eye, 

Wild fury in his bosom woke, 
And thus the monstrous giant spoke; 

"Arise, my sister; cast away 
This numbing terror and dismay, 
And straight the impious hand declare 
That marred those features once so fair. 
For who his finger tip will lay 
On the black snake in childish play, 
And unattacked, with idle stroke 
His poison-laden fang provoke? 
Ill-fated fool, he little knows 
Death's noose around his neck he throws, 
Who rashly met thee, and a draught 
Of life-destroying poison quaffed. 
Strong, fierce as death, 'twas thine to choose 
Thy way at will, each shape to use; 
In power and might like one of us: 
What hand has maimed and marred thee thus? 
What God or fiend this deed has wrought, 
What bard or sage of lofty thought 
Was armed with power supremely great 
Thy form to mar and mutilate? 
In all the worlds not one I see 
Would dare a deed to anger me: 



Canto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara. 889 

Not Indra's self, the Thousand-eyed, 
Beneath whose hand fierce Paka 459 died. 
My life-destroying darts this day 
His guilty breath shall rend away, 
E'en as the thirsty wild swan drains 
Each milk-drop that the wave retains. 
Whose blood in foaming streams shall burst 
O'er the dry ground which lies athirst, 
When by my shafts transfixed and slain 
He falls upon the battle plain? 
From whose dead corpse shall birds of air 
The mangled flesh and sinews tear, 
And in their gory feast delight, 
When I have slain him in the fight? 
Not God or bard or wandering ghost, 
No giant of our mighty host 
Shall step between us, or avail 
To save the wretch when I assail. 
Collect each scattered sense, recall 
Thy troubled thoughts, and tell me all. 
What wretch attacked thee in the way, 
And quelled thee in victorious fray?" 

His breast with burning fury fired, 
Thus Khara of the fiend inquired: 
And then with many a tear and sigh 
Thus Surpanakha made reply: 
"Tis Dasaratha's sons, a pair 
Strong, resolute, and young, and fair: 
In coats of dark and blackdeer's hide, 
And like the radiant lotus eyed: 
On berries roots and fruit they feed, 
And lives of saintly virtue lead: 



459 A demon slain by Indra. 



890 The Ramayana 

With ordered senses undefiled, 
Rama and Lakshman are they styled. 
Fair as the Minstrels' King 460 are they, 
And stamped with signs of regal sway. 
I know not if the heroes trace 
Their line from Gods or Danav 461 race. 
There by these wondering eyes between 
The noble youths a dame was seen, 
Fair, blooming, young, with dainty waist, 
And all her bright apparel graced. 
For her with ready heart and mind 
The royal pair their strength combined, 
And brought me to this last distress, 
Like some lost woman, comfortless. 
Perfidious wretch! my soul is fain 
Her foaming blood and theirs to drain. 
O let me head the vengeful fight, 
And with this hand my murderers smite. 
Come, brother, hasten to fulfil 
This longing of my eager will. 
On to the battle! Let me drink 
Their lifeblood as to earth they sink." 



Then Khara, by his sister pressed, 
Inflamed with fury, gave his hest 
To twice seven giants of his crew, 
Fierce as the God of death to view: 



460 Chitraratha, King of the Gandharvas. 



Canto XX. The Giants' Death. 891 

'Two men equipped with arms, who wear 
Deerskin and bark and matted hair, 
Leading a beauteous dame, have strayed 
To the wild gloom of Dandak's shade. 
These men, this cursed woman slay, 
And hasten back without delay, 
That this my sister's lips may be 
Red with the lifeblood of the three. 
Giants, my wounded sister longs 
To take this vengeance for her wrongs. 
With speed her dearest wish fulfil, 
And with your might these creatures kill. 
Soon as your matchless strength shall lay 
These brothers dead in battle fray, 
She in triumphant joy will laugh, 
And their hearts' blood delighted quaff." 

The giants heard the words he said, 
And forth with Surpanakha sped, 
As mighty clouds in autumn fly 
Urged by the wind along the sky. 



Canto XX. The Giants' Death. 

Fierce Surpanakha with her train 

To Rama's dwelling came again, 

And to the eager giants showed 

Where Sita and the youths abode. 

Within the leafy cot they spied 

The hero by his consort's side, 

And faithful Lakshman ready still 

To wait upon his brother's will. [253] 



892 The Ramayana 

Then noble Rama raised his eye 
And saw the giants standing nigh, 
And then, as nearer still they pressed. 
His glorious brother thus addressed, 
"Be thine a while, my brother dear, 
To watch o'er Sita's safety here, 
And I will slay these creatures who 
The footsteps of my spouse pursue." 



He spoke, and reverent Lakshman heard 
Submissive to his brother's word. 
The son of Raghu, virtuous-souled, 
Strung his great bow adorned with gold, 
And, with the weapon in his hand, 
Addressed him to the giant band: 
"Rama and Lakshman we, who spring 
From Dasaratha, mighty king; 
We dwell a while with Sita here 
In Dan dak forest wild and drear. 
On woodland roots and fruit we feed, 
And lives of strictest rule we lead. 
Say why would ye our lives oppress 
Who sojourn in the wilderness. 
Sent hither by the hermits' prayer 
With bow and darts unused to spare, 
For vengeance am I come to slay 
Your sinful band in battle fray. 
Rest as ye are: remain content, 
Nor try the battle's dire event. 
Unless your offered lives ye spurn, 
O rovers of the night, return." 



Canto XX. The Giants' Death. 893 

They listened while the hero spoke, 
And fury in each breast awoke. 
The Brahman-slayers raised on high 
Their mighty spears and made reply: 
They spoke with eyes aglow with ire, 
While Rama's burnt with vengeful tire, 
And answered thus, in fury wild, 
That peerless chief whose tones were mild: 

"Nay thou hast angered, overbold, 
Khara our lord, the mighty- souled, 
And for thy sin, in battle strife 
Shalt yield to us thy forfeit life. 
No power hast thou alone to stand 
Against the numbers of our band. 
'Twere vain to match thy single might 
Against us in the front of fight. 
When we equipped for fight advance 
With brandished pike and mace and lance, 
Thou, vanquished in the desperate field, 
Thy bow, thy strength, thy life shalt yield." 

With bitter words and threatening mien 
Thus furious spoke the fierce fourteen, 
And raising scimitar and spear 
On Rama rushed in wild career. 
Their levelled spears the giant crew 
Against the matchless hero threw. 
His bow the son of Raghu bent, 
And twice seven shafts to meet them sent, 
And every javelin sundered fell 
By the bright darts he aimed so well. 



894 The Ramayana 

The hero saw: his anger grew 
To fury: from his side he drew 
Fresh sunbright arrows pointed keen, 
In number, like his foes, fourteen. 
His bow he grasped, the string he drew, 
And gazing on the giant crew, 
As Indra casts the levin, so 
Shot forth his arrows at the foe. 
The hurtling arrows, stained with gore, 
Through the fiends' breasts a passage tore, 
And in the earth lay buried deep 
As serpents through an ant-hill creep 
Like trees uptorn by stormy blast 
The shattered fiends to earth were cast, 
And there with mangled bodies they, 
Bathed in their blood and breathless, lay. 



With fainting heart and furious eye 
The demon saw her champions die. 
With drying wounds that scarcely bled 
Back to her brother's home she fled. 
Oppressed with pain, with loud lament 
At Khara's feet the monster bent. 
There like a plant whence slowly come 
The trickling drops of oozy gum, 
With her grim features pale with pain 
She poured her tears in ceaseless rain, 
There routed Surpanakha lay, 

And told her brother all, 
The issue of the bloody fray, 

Her giant champions' fall. 



Canto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara. 895 

Canto XXI. The Rousing Of Khara. 



Low in the dust he saw her lie, 
And Khara's wrath grew fierce and high. 
Aloud he cried to her who came 
Disgracefully with baffled aim: 
"I sent with thee at thy request 
The bravest of my giants, best 
Of all who feed upon the slain: 
Why art thou weeping here again? 
Still to their master's interest true, 
My faithful, noble, loyal crew, 
Though slaughtered in the bloody fray, 
Would yet their monarch's word obey. 
Now I, my sister, fain would know 
The cause of this thy fear and woe, 
Why like a snake thou writhest there, 
Calling for aid in wild despair. 
Nay, lie not thus in lowly guise: 
Cast off thy weakness and arise!" 



With soothing words the giant chief 
Assuaged the fury of her grief. 
Her weeping eyes she slowly dried 
And to her brother thus replied: 
"I sought thee in my shame and fear 
With severed nose and mangled ear: 
My gashes like a river bled, 
I sought thee and was comforted. [254] 



896 The Ramayana 

Those twice seven giants, brave and strong, 

Thou sentest to avenge the wrong, 

To lay the savage Rama low, 

And Lakshman who misused me so. 

But ah, the shafts of Rama through 

The bodies of my champions flew: 

Though madly fierce their spears they plied, 

Beneath his conquering might they died. 

I saw them, famed for strength and speed, 

I saw my heroes fall and bleed: 

Great trembling seized my every limb 

At the great deed achieved by him. 

In trouble, horror, doubt, and dread, 

Again to thee for help I fled. 

While terror haunts my troubled sight, 

I seek thee, rover of the night. 

And canst thou not thy sister free 

From this wide waste of troublous sea 

Whose sharks are doubt and terror, where 

Each wreathing wave is dark despair? 

Low lie on earth thy giant train 

By ruthless Rama's arrows slain, 

And all the mighty demons, fed 

On blood, who followed me are dead. 

Now if within thy breast may be 

Pity for them and love for me, 

If thou, O rover of the night, 

Have valour and with him can fight, 

Subdue the giants' cruel foe 

Who dwells where Dandak's thickets grow. 

But if thine arm in vain assay 

This queller of his foes to slay, 

Now surely here before thine eyes, 

Wronged and ashamed thy sister dies. 



Canto XXII. Khara's Wrath. 897 

Too well, alas, too well I see 
That, strong in war as thou mayst be, 
Thou canst not in the battle stand 
When Rama meets thee hand to hand. 
Go forth, thou hero but in name, 
Assuming might thou canst not claim; 
Call friend and kin, no longer stay: 
Away from Janasthan, away! 
Shame of thy race! the weak alone 
Beneath thine arm may sink o'erthrown: 
Fly Rama and his brother: they 
Are men too strong for thee to slay. 
How canst thou hope, O weak and base, 
To make this grove thy dwelling-place? 
With Rama's might unmeet to vie, 
O'ermastered thou wilt quickly die. 
A hero strong in valorous deed 
Is Rama, Dasaratha's seed: 
And scarce of weaker might than he 
His brother chief who mangled me." 

Thus wept and wailed in deep distress 
The grim misshapen giantess: 
Before her brother's feet she lay 
O'erwhelmed with grief, and swooned away. 



Canto XXII. Khara's Wrath. 

Roused by the taunting words she spoke, 
The mighty Khara's wrath awoke, 
And there, while giants girt him round, 
In these fierce words an utterance found: 



898 The Ramayana 

"I cannot, peerless one, contain 
Mine anger at this high disdain, 
Galling as salt when sprinkled o'er 
The rawness of a bleeding sore. 
Rama in little count I hold, 
Weak man whose days are quickly told. 
The caitiff with his life to-day 
For all his evil deeds shall pay. 
Dry, sister, dry each needless tear, 
Stint thy lament and banish fear, 
For Rama and his brother go 
This day to Yama's realm below. 
My warrior's axe shall stretch him slain, 
Ere set of sun, upon the plain, 
Then shall thy sated lips be red 
With his warm blood in torrents shed." 

As Khara's speech the demon heard, 
With sudden joy her heart was stirred: 
She fondly praised him as the boast 
And glory of the giant host. 
First moved to ire by taunts and stings, 
Now soothed by gentle flatterings, 
To Dushan, who his armies led, 
The demon Khara spoke, and said: 

"Friend, from the host of giants call 
Full fourteen thousand, best of all, 
Slaves of my will, of fearful might, 
Who never turn their backs in fight: 
Fiends who rejoice to slay and mar, 
Dark as the clouds of autumn are: 
Make ready quickly, O my friend, 
My chariot and the bows I bend. 



Canto XXII. Khara's Wrath. 899 

My swords, my shafts of brilliant sheen, 
My divers lances long and keen. 
On to the battle will I lead 
These heroes of Pulastya's seed, 
And thus, O famed for warlike skill, 
Rama my wicked foeman kill." 

He spoke, and ere his speech was done, 
His chariot glittering like the sun, 
Yoked and announced, by Dushan's care, 
With dappled steeds was ready there. 
High as a peak from Meru rent 
It burned with golden ornament: 
The pole of lazulite, of gold 
Were the bright wheels whereon it rolled. 
With gold and moonstone blazoned o'er, 
Fish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore; 
Auspicious birds embossed thereon, 
And stars in costly emblem shone. 
O'er flashing swords his banner hung, 

And sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung. [255] 

That mighty host with sword and shield 
And oar was ready for the field: 
And Khara saw, and Diishan cried, 
"Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride." 
Then banners waved, and shield and sword 
Flashed as the host obeyed its lord. 
From Janasthan they sallied out 
With eager speed, and din, and shout, 
Armed with the mace for close attacks, 
The bill, the spear, the battle-axe, 
Steel quoit and club that flashed afar, 
Huge bow and sword and scimitar, 
The dart to pierce, the bolt to strike, 



900 The Ramayana 

The murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike. 
So forth from Janasthan, intent 
On Khara's will, the monsters went. 
He saw their awful march: not far 
Behind the host he drove his car. 
Ware of his master's will, to speed 
The driver urged each gold-decked steed. 
Then forth the warrior's coursers sprang, 
And with tumultuous murmur rang 
Each distant quarter of the sky 
And realms that intermediate lie. 
High and more high within his breast 

His pride triumphant rose, 
While terrible as Death he pressed 

Onward to slay his foes, 
"More swiftly yet," as on they fled, 

He cried in thundering tones 
Loud as a cloud that overhead 

Hails down a flood of stones. 



Canto XXIII. The Omens. 



As forth upon its errand went 

That huge ferocious armament, 

An awful cloud, in dust and gloom, 

With threatening thunders from its womb 

Poured in sad augury a flood 

Of rushing water mixt with blood. 

The monarch's steeds, though strong and fleet, 

Stumbled and fell: and yet their feet 

Passed o'er the bed of flowers that lay 



Canto XXIII. The Omens. 901 

Fresh gathered on the royal way. 

No gleam of sunlight struggled through 

The sombre pall of midnight hue, 

Edged with a line of bloody red, 

Like whirling torches overhead. 

A vulture, fierce, of mighty size. 

Terrific with his cruel eyes, 

Perched on the staff enriched with gold, 

Whence hung the flag in many a fold. 

Each ravening bird, each beast of prey 

Where Janasthan's wild thickets lay, 

Rose with a long discordant cry 

And gathered as the host went by. 

And from the south long, wild, and shrill, 

Came spirit voices boding ill. 

Like elephants in frantic mood, 

Vast clouds terrific, sable-hued, 

Hid all the sky where'er they bore 

Their load of water mixt with gore. 

Above, below, around were spread 

Thick shades of darkness strange and dread, 

Nor could the wildered glance descry 

A point or quarter of the sky. 

Then came o'er heaven a sanguine hue, 

Though evening's flush not yet was due, 

While each ill-omened bird that flies 

Assailed the king with harshest cries. 

There screamed the vulture and the crane, 

And the loud jackal shrieked again. 

Each hideous thing that bodes aright 

Disaster in the coming fight, 

With gaping mouth that hissed and flamed, 

The ruin of the host proclaimed. 

Eclipse untimely reft away 



902 The Ramayana 

The brightness of the Lord of Day, 

And near his side was seen to glow 

A mace-like comet boding woe. 

Then while the sun was lost to view 

A mighty wind arose and blew, 

And stars like fireflies shed their light, 

Nor waited for the distant night. 

The lilies drooped, the brooks were dried, 

The fish and birds that swam them died, 

And every tree that was so fair 

With flower and fruit was stripped and bare. 

The wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high, 

Dark clouds of dust involved the sky. 

In doleful twitter long sustained 

The restless Sarikas 462 complained, 

And from the heavens with flash and flame 

Terrific meteors roaring came. 

Earth to her deep foundation shook 

With rock and tree and plain and brook, 

As Khara with triumphant shout, 

Borne in his chariot, sallied out. 

His left arm throbbed: he knew full well 

That omen, and his visage fell. 

Each awful sign the giant viewed, 

And sudden tears his eye bedewed. 

Care on his brow sat chill and black, 

Yet mad with wrath he turned not back. 

Upon each fearful sight that raised 

The shuddering hair the chieftain gazed, 

And laughing in his senseless pride 

Thus to his giant legions cried: 

"By sense of mightiest strength upborne, 



462 The Sarika is the Maina, a bird like a starling. 



Canto XXIII. The Omens. 903 

These feeble signs I laugh to scorn. 

I could bring down the stars that shine 

In heaven with these keen shafts of mine. 

Impelled by warlike fury I 

Could cause e'en Death himself to die. [256] 

I will not seek my home again 

Until my pointed shafts have slain 

This Raghu's son so fierce in pride, 

And Lakshman by his brother's side. 

And she, my sister, she for whom 

These sons of Raghu meet their doom, 

She with delighted lips shall drain 

The lifeblood of her foemen slain. 

Fear not for me: I ne'er have known 

Defeat, in battle overthrown. 

Fear not for me, O giants; true 

Are the proud words I speak to you. 

The king of Gods who rules on high, 

If wild Airavat bore him nigh, 

Should fall before me bolt in hand: 

And shall these two my wrath withstand!" 

He ended and the giant host 
Who heard their chiefs triumphant boast, 
Rejoiced with equal pride elate, 
Entangled in the noose of Fate. 

Then met on high in bright array, 
With eyes that longed to see the fray, 
God and Gandharva, sage and saint, 
With beings pure from earthly taint. 
Blest for good works aforetime wrought, 
Thus each to other spake his thought: 
"Now joy to Brahmans, joy to kine, 



904 The Ramayana 

And all whom world count half divine! 
May Raghu's offspring slay in fight 
Pulastya's sons who roam by night!" 
In words like these and more, the best 
Of high-souled saints their hopes expressed, 
Bending their eager eyes from where 
Car-borne with Gods they rode in air. 
Beneath them stretching far, they viewed 
The giants' death-doomed multitude. 
They saw where, urged with fury, far 
Before the host rolled Khara's car, 
And close beside their leader came 
Twelve giant peers of might and fame. 
Four other chiefs 463 before the rest 
Behind their leader Dushan pressed. 

Impetuous, cruel, dark, and dread, 
All thirsting for the fray, 

The hosts of giant warriors sped 
Onward upon their way. 

With eager speed they reached the spot 
Where dwelt the princely two, — 

Like planets in a league to blot 
The sun and moon from view. 



Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight. 



463 Mahakapala, Sthiilaksha, Pramatha, Trisiras. 



Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight. 905 

While Khara, urged by valiant rage, 
Drew near that little hermitage, 
Those wondrous signs in earth and sky 
Smote on each prince's watchful eye. 
When Rama saw those signs of woe 
Fraught with destruction to the foe, 
With bold impatience scarce repressed 
His brother chief he thus addressed: 

"These fearful signs, my brother bold, 
Which threaten all our foes, behold: 
All laden, as they strike the view, 
With ruin to the fiendish crew. 
The angry clouds are gathering fast, 
Their skirts with dusty gloom o'ercast, 
And harsh with loud-voiced thunder, rain 
Thick drops of blood upon the plain. 
See, burning for the coming fight, 
My shafts with wreaths of smoke are white, 
And my great bow embossed with gold 
Throbs eager for the master's hold. 
Each bird that through the forest flies 
Sends out its melancholy cries. 
All signs foretell the dangerous strife, 
The jeopardy of limb and life. 
Each sight, each sound gives warning clear 
That foemen meet and death is near. 
But courage, valiant brother! well 
The throbbings of mine arm foretell 
That ruin waits the hostile powers, 
And triumph in the fight is ours. 
I hail the welcome omen: thou 
Art bright of face and clear of brow. 
For Lakshman, when the eye can trace 



906 The Ramayana 

A cloud upon the warrior's face 
Stealing the cheerful light away, 
His life is doomed in battle fray. 
List, brother, to that awful cry: 
With shout and roar the fiends draw nigh. 
With thundering beat of many a drum 
The savage-hearted giants come. 
The wise who value safety know 
To meet, prepared, the coming blow: 
In paths of prudence trained aright 
They watch the stroke before it smite. 
Take thou thine arrows and thy bow, 
And with the Maithil lady go 
For shelter to the mountain cave 
Where thickest trees their branches wave. 
I will not have thee, Lakshman, say 
One word in answer, but obey. 
By all thy honour for these feet 
Of mine, dear brother, I entreat. 
Thy warlike arm, I know could, smite 
To death these rovers of the night; 
But I this day would fight alone 
[257] Till all the fiends be overthrown." 

He spake: and Lakshman answered naught: 

His arrows and his bow he brought, 

And then with Sita following hied 

For shelter to the mountain side. 

As Lakshman and the lady through 

The forest to the cave withdrew, 

"Tis well," cried Rama. Then he braced 

His coat of mail around his waist. 

When, bright as blazing fire, upon 

His mighty limbs that armour shone, 

The hero stood like some great light 



Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight. 907 

Uprising in the dark of night. 
His dreadful shafts were by his side; 
His trusty bow he bent and plied, 
Prepared he stood: the bowstring rang, 
Filling the welkin with the clang. 



The high-souled Gods together drew 
The wonder of the fight to view, 
The saints made free from spot and stain, 
And bright Gandharvas' heavenly train. 
Each glorious sage the assembly sought, 
Each saint divine of loftiest thought, 
And filled with zeal for Rama's sake. 
Thus they whose deeds were holy spake: 



"Now be it well with Brahmans, now 
Well with the worlds and every cow! 
Let Rama in the deadly fray 
The fiends who walk in darkness slay, 
As He who bears the discus 464 slew 
The chieftains of the Asur crew." 



Then each with anxious glances viewed 
His fellow and his speech renewed: 
"There twice seven thousand giants stand 
With impious heart and cruel hand: 
Here Rama stands, by virtue known: 
How can the hero fight alone?" 



908 The Ramayana 

Thus royal sage and Brahman saint, 
Spirit, and Virtue free from taint, 
And all the Gods of heaven who rode 
On golden cars, their longing showed. 
Their hearts with doubt and terror rent, 
They saw the giants' armament, 
And Rama clothed in warrior might, 
Forth standing in the front of fight. 
Lord of the arm no toil might tire, 
He stood majestic in his ire, 
Matchless in form as Rudra 465 when 
His wrath is fierce on Gods or men. 



While Gods and saints in close array 
Held converse of the coming fray, 
The army of the fiends drew near 
With sight and sound that counselled fear. 
Long, loud and deep their war-cry pealed, 
As on they rushed with flag and shield, 
Each, of his proper valour proud, 
Urging to fight the demon crowd. 
His ponderous bow each warrior tried, 
And swelled his bulk with martial pride. 
'Mid shout and roar and trampling feet, 
And thunder of the drums they beat, 
Loud and more loud the tumult went 
Throughout the forest's vast extent, 
And all the life that moved within 
The woodland trembled at the din. 
In eager haste all fled to find 
Some tranquil spot, nor looked behind. 



Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight. 909 

With every arm of war supplied, 
On-rushing wildly like the tide 
Of some deep sea, the giant host 
Approached where Rama kept his post. 
Then he, in battle skilled and tried, 
Bent his keen eye on every side, 
And viewed the host of Khara face 
To face before his dwelling-place. 
He drew his arrows forth, and reared 
And strained that bow which foemen feared, 
And yielded to the vengeful sway 
Of fierce desire that host to slay. 
Terrific as the ruinous fire 
That ends the worlds, he glowed in ire, 
And his tremendous form dismayed 
The Gods who roam the forest shade. 
For in the furious wrath that glowed 
Within his soul the hero showed 
Like Siva when his angry might 
Stayed Daksha's sacrificial rite. 466 

Like some great cloud at dawn of day 

When first the sun upsprings, 
And o'er the gloomy mass each ray 

A golden radiance flings: 
Thus showed the children of the night, 

Whose mail and chariots threw, 
With gleam of bows and armlets bright, 

Flashes of flamy hue. 



' See Additional Notes— DAKSHA'S SACRIFICEJFNS. 



910 The Ramayana 

Canto XXV. The Battle. 

When Khara with the hosts he led 
Drew near to Rama's leafy shed, 
He saw that queller of the foe 
Stand ready with his ordered bow. 
He saw, and burning at the view 
His clanging bow he raised and drew, 
And bade his driver urge apace 
His car to meet him face to face. 
Obedient to his master's hest 
His eager steeds the driver pressed 
On to the spot where, none to aid, 
The strong-armed chief his weapon swayed. 
Soon as the children of the night 
[258] Saw Khara rushing to the fight, 

His lords with loud unearthly cry 
Followed their chief and gathered nigh. 
As in his car the leader rode 
With all his lords around, he showed 
Like the red planet fiery Mars 
Surrounded by the lesser stars. 
Then with a horrid yell that rent 
The air, the giant chieftain sent 
A thousand darts in rapid shower 
On Rama matchless in his power. 
The rovers of the night, impelled 
By fiery rage which naught withheld, 
Upon the unconquered prince, who strained 
His fearful bow, their arrows rained. 
With sword and club, with mace and pike, 
With spear and axe to pierce and strike, 
Those furious fiends on every side 
The unconquerable hero plied. 



Canto XXV. The Battle. 911 

The giant legions huge and strong, 

Like clouds the tempest drives along, 

Rushed upon Rama with the speed 

Of whirling car, and mounted steed, 

And hill-like elephant, to slay 

The matchless prince in battle fray. 

Then upon Rama thick and fast 

The rain of mortal steel they cast, 

As labouring clouds their torrents shed 

Upon the mountain-monarch's 467 head. 

As near and nearer round him drew 

The warriors of the giant crew, 

He showed like Siva girt by all 

His spirits when night's shadows fall. 

As the great deep receives each rill 

And river rushing from the hill, 

He bore that flood of darts, and broke 

With well-aimed shaft each murderous stroke. 

By stress of arrowy storm assailed, 

And wounded sore, he never failed, 

Like some high mountain which defies 

The red bolts flashing from the skies. 

With ruddy streams each limb was dyed 

From gaping wounds in breast and side, 

Showing the hero like the sun 

'Mid crimson clouds ere day is done. 

Then, at that sight of terror, faint 

Grew God, Gandharva, sage, and saint, 

Trembling to see the prince oppose 

His single might to myriad foes. 

But waxing wroth, with force unspent, 

He strained his bow to utmost bent, 



467 Himalaya. 



912 The Ramayana 

And forth his arrows keen and true 

In hundreds, yea in thousands flew, — 

Shafts none could ward, and none endure: 

Death's fatal noose was scarce so sure. 

As 'twere in playful ease he shot 

His gilded shafts, and rested not. 

With swiftest flight and truest aim 

Upon the giant hosts they came. 

Each smote, each stayed a foeman's breath 

As fatal as the coil of Death. 

Each arrow through a giant tore 

A passage, and besmeared with gore, 

Pursued its onward way and through 

The air with flamy brilliance flew. 

Unnumbered were the arrows sent 

From the great bow which Rama bent, 

And every shaft with iron head 

The lifeblood of a giant shed. 

Their pennoned bows were cleft, nor mail 

Nor shield of hide could aught avail. 

For Rama's myriad arrows tore 

Through arms, and bracelets which they wore, 

And severed mighty warriors' thighs 

Like trunks of elephants in size, 

And cut resistless passage sheer 

Through gold-decked horse and charioteer, 

Slew elephant and rider, slew 

The horseman and the charger too, 

And infantry unnumbered sent 

To dwell 'neath Yama's government. 

Then rose on high a fearful yell 

Of rovers of the night, who fell 

Beneath that iron torrent, sore 

Wounded by shafts that rent and tore. 



Canto XXV. The Battle. 913 

So mangled by the ceaseless storm 

Of shafts of every kind and form, 

Such joy they found, as forests feel 

When scorched by flame, from Rama's steel. 

The mightiest still the fight maintained, 

And furious upon Rama rained 

Dart, arrow, spear, with wild attacks 

Of mace, and club, and battle-axe. 

But the great chief, unconquered yet, 

Their weapons with his arrows met, 

Which severed many a giant's head, 

And all the plain with corpses spread. 

With sundered bow and shattered shield 

Headless they sank upon the field, 

As the tall trees, that felt the blast 

Of Garud's wing, to earth were cast. 

The giants left unslaughtered there 

Where filled with terror and despair, 

And to their leader Khara fled 

Faint, wounded, and discomfited. 

These fiery Dushan strove to cheer, 

And poised his bow to calm their fear; 

Then fierce as He who rules the dead, 

When wroth, on angered Rama sped. 

By Dushan cheered, the demons cast 

Their dread aside and rallied fast 

With Sals, rocks, palm-trees in their hands 

With nooses, maces, pikes, and brands, 

Again upon the godlike man 

The mighty fiends infuriate ran, 

These casting rocks like hail, and these 

A whelming shower of leafy trees. 

Wild, wondrous fight, the eye to scare, 

And raise on end each shuddering hair, [259] 



914 The Ramayana 

As with the fiends who loved to rove 
By night heroic Rama strove! 
The giants in their fury plied 
Rama with darts on every side. 
Then, by the gathering demons pressed 
From north and south and east and west, 
By showers of deadly darts assailed 
From every quarter fiercely hailed, 
Girt by the foes who swarmed around, 
He raised a mighty shout whose sound 
Struck terror. On the giant crew 
His great Gandharva 468 arrow flew. 
A thousand mortal shafts were rained 
From the orbed bow the hero strained, 
Till east and west and south and north 
Were filled with arrows volleyed forth. 
They heard the fearful shout: they saw 
His mighty hand the bowstring draw, 
Yet could no wounded giant's eye 
See the swift storm of arrows fly. 
Still firm the warrior stood and cast 
His deadly missiles thick and fast. 
Dark grew the air with arrowy hail 
Which hid the sun as with a veil. 
Fiends wounded, falling, fallen, slain, 
All in a moment, spread the plain, 
And thousands scarce alive were left 
Mangled, and gashed, and torn, and cleft. 
Dire was the sight, the plain o'erspread 
With trophies of the mangled dead. 
There lay, by Rama's missiles rent, 
Full many a priceless ornament, 



468 One of the mysterious weapons given to Rama. 



Canto XXVI. Dushan's Death. 915 

With severed limb and broken gem, 
Hauberk and helm and diadem. 
There lay the shattered car, the steed, 
The elephant of noblest breed, 
The splintered spear, the shivered mace, 
Chouris and screens to shade the face. 
The giants saw with bitterest pain 
Their warriors weltering on the plain, 
Nor dared again his might oppose 
Who scourged the cities of his foes. 



Canto XXVI. Dushan's Death. 



When Diishan saw his giant band 

Slaughtered by Rama's conquering hand, 

He called five thousand fiends, and gave 

His orders. Bravest of the brave, 

Invincible, of furious might, 

Ne'er had they turned their backs in flight. 

They, as their leader bade them seize 

Spears, swords, and clubs, and rocks, and trees, 

Poured on the dauntless prince again 

A ceaseless shower of deadly rain. 

The virtuous Rama, undismayed, 

Their missiles with his arrows stayed, 

And weakened, ere it fell, the shock 

Of that dire hail of tree and rock, 

And like a bull with eyelids closed, 

The pelting of the storm opposed. 



916 The Ramayana 

Then blazed his ire: he longed to smite 
To earth the rovers of the night. 
The wrath that o'er his spirit came 
Clothed him with splendour as of flame, 
While showers of mortal darts he poured 
Fierce on the giants and their lord. 
Dushan, the foeman's dusky dread, 
By frenzied rage inspirited, 
On Raghu's son his missiles cast 
Like Indra's bolts which rend and blast. 
But Rama with a trenchant dart 
Cleft Dushan's ponderous bow apart. 
And then the gold-decked steeds who drew 
The chariot, with four shafts he slew. 
One crescent dart he aimed which shred 
Clean from his neck the driver's head; 
Three more with deadly skill addressed 
Stood quivering in the giant's breast. 
Hurled from his car, steeds, driver slain, 
The bow he trusted cleft in twain, 
He seized his mace, strong, heavy, dread, 
High as a mountain's towering head. 
With plates of gold adorned and bound, 
Embattled Gods it crushed and ground. 
Its iron spikes yet bore the stains 
Of mangled foemen's blood and brains. 
Its heavy mass of jagged steel 
Was like a thunderbolt to feel. 
It shattered, as on foes it fell, 
The city where the senses dwell. 469 
Fierce Dushan seized that ponderous mace 
Like monstrous form of serpent race, 



469 A periphrasis for the body. 



Canto XXVI. Dushan's Death. 917 

And all his savage soul aglow 

With fury, rushed upon the foe. 

But Raghu's son took steady aim, 

And as the rushing giant came, 

Shore with two shafts the arms whereon 

The demon's glittering bracelets shone. 

His arm at each huge shoulder lopped, 

The mighty body reeled and dropped, 

And the great mace to earth was thrown 

Like Indra's staff when storms have blown. 

As some vast elephant who lies 

Shorn of his tusks, and bleeding dies, 

So, when his arms were rent away, 

Low on the ground the giant lay. 

The spirits saw the monster die, 

And loudly rang their joyful cry, 

"Honour to Rama! nobly done! 

Well hast thou fought, Kakutstha's son!" [260] 

But the great three, the host who led, 

Enraged to see their chieftain dead, 

As though Death's toils were round them cast, 

Rushed upon Rama fierce and fast, 

Mahakapala seized, to strike 

His foeman down, a ponderous pike: 

Sthulaksha charged with spear to fling, 

Pramathi with his axe to swing. 

When Rama saw, with keen darts he 

Received the onset of the three, 

As calm as though he hailed a guest 

In each, who came for shade and rest. 

Mahakapala's monstrous head 

Fell with the trenchant dart he sped. 

His good right hand in battle skilled 

Sthulaksha's eyes with arrows filled, 



918 The Ramayana 

And trusting still his ready bow 
He laid the fierce Pramathi low, 
Who sank as some tall tree falls down 
With bough and branch and leafy crown. 
Then with five thousand shafts he slew 
The rest of Dushan's giant crew: 
Five thousand demons, torn and rent, 
To Yama's gloomy realm he sent. 

When Khara knew the fate of all 
The giant band and Dushan's fall, 
He called the mighty chiefs who led 
His army, and in fury said: 

"Now Dushan and his armed train 
Lie prostrate on the battle plain. 
Lead forth an army mightier still, 
Rama this wretched man, to kill. 
Fight ye with darts of every shape, 
Nor let him from your wrath escape." 

Thus spoke the fiend, by rage impelled, 
And straight his course toward Rama held. 
With Syenagami and the rest 
Of his twelve chiefs he onward pressed, 
And every giant as he went 
A storm of well-wrought arrows sent. 
Then with his pointed shafts that came 
With gold and diamond bright as flame, 
Dead to the earth the hero threw 
The remnant of the demon crew. 
Those shafts with feathers bright as gold, 
Like flames which wreaths of smoke enfold, 
Smote down the fiends like tall trees rent 
By red bolts from the firmament. 



Canto XXVI. Dushan's Death. 919 

A hundred shafts he pointed well: 
By their keen barbs a hundred fell: 
A thousand, — and a thousand more 
In battle's front lay drenched in gore. 
Of all defence and guard bereft, 
With sundered bows and harness cleft. 
Their bodies red with bloody stain 
Fell the night-rovers on the plain, 
Which, covered with the loosened hair 
Of bleeding giants prostrate there, 
Like some great altar showed, arrayed 
For holy rites with grass o'erlaid. 
The darksome wood, each glade and dell 
Where the wild demons fought and fell 
Was like an awful hell whose floor 
Is thick with mire and flesh and gore. 

Thus twice seven thousand fiends, a band 
With impious heart and bloody hand, 
By Raghu's son were overthrown, 
A man, on foot, and all alone. 
Of all who met on that fierce day, 
Khara, great chief, survived the fray, 
The monster of the triple head, 470 
And Raghu's son, the foeman's dread. 
The other demon warriors, all 
Skilful and brave and strong and tall, 
In front of battle, side by side, 
Struck down by Lakshman's brother died. 

When Khara saw the host he led 
Triumphant forth to fight 

Stretched on the earth, all smitten dead, 
By Rama's nobler might, 



920 The Ramayana 

Upon his foe he fiercely glared, 

And drove against him fast, 
Like Indra when his arm is bared 

His thundering bolt to cast. 



Canto XXVII. The Death Of Trisiras. 



But Trisiras, 471 a chieftain dread, 
Marked Khara as he onward sped. 
And met his car and cried, to stay 
The giant from the purposed fray: 
"Mine be the charge: let me attack, 
And turn thee from the contest back. 
Let me go forth, and thou shalt see 
The strong-armed Rama slain by me. 
True are the words I speak, my lord: 
I swear it as I touch my sword: 
That I this Rama's blood will spill, 
Whom every giant's hand should kill. 
This Rama will I slay, or he 
In battle fray shall conquer me. 
Restrain thy spirit: check thy car, 
And view the combat from afar. 
Thou, joying o'er the prostrate foe, 
To Janasthan again shalt go, 
Or, if I fall in battle's chance, 
Against my conqueror advance." 



Canto XXVII. The Death Of Trisiras. 92 1 

Thus Trisiras for death who yearned: 
And Khara from the conflict turned, 
"Go forth to battle," Khara cried; 
And toward his foe the giant hied. 
Borne on a car of glittering hue 
Which harnessed coursers fleetly drew, 
Like some huge hill with triple peak 

He onward rushed the prince to seek. [261] 

Still, like a big cloud, sending out 
His arrowy rain with many a shout 
Like the deep sullen roars that come 
Discordant from a moistened drum. 
But Raghu's son, whose watchful eye 
Beheld the demon rushing nigh, 
From the great bow he raised and bent 
A shower of shafts to meet him sent. 
Wild grew the fight and wilder yet 
As fiend and man in combat met, 
As when in some dark wood's retreat 
An elephant and a lion meet. 

The giant bent his bow, and true 
To Rama's brow three arrows flew. 
Then, raging as he felt the stroke, 
These words in anger Rama spoke: 
"Heroic chief! is such the power 
Of fiends who rove at midnight hour? 
Soft as the touch of flowers I feel 
The gentle blows thine arrows deal. 
Receive in turn my shafts, and know 
What arrows fly from Rama's bow." 
Thus as he spoke his wrath grew hot, 
And twice seven deadly shafts he shot, 
Which, dire as serpent's deadly fang, 



922 The Ramayana 

Straight to the giant's bosom sprang. 
Four arrows more, — each shaped to deal 
A mortal wound with barbed steel, — 
The glorious hero shot, and slew 
The four good steeds the car that drew. 
Eight other shafts flew straight and fleet, 
And hurled the driver from his seat, 
And in the dust the banner laid 
That proudly o'er the chariot played. 
Then as the fiend prepared to bound 
Forth from his useless car to ground, 
The hero smote him to the heart, 
And numbed his arm with deadly smart. 
Again the chieftain, peerless-souled, 
Sent forth three rapid darts, and rolled 
With each keen arrow, deftly sped, 
Low in the dust a monstrous head. 
Then yielding to each deadly stroke, 
Forth spouting streams of blood and smoke, 
The headless trunk bedrenched with gore 
Fell to the ground and moved no more. 
The fiends who yet were left with life, 
Routed and crushed in battle strife, 
To Khara's side, like trembling deer 
Scared by the hunter, fled in fear. 
King Khara saw with furious eye 
His scattered giants turn and fly; 
Then rallying his broken train 
At Raghu's son he drove amain, 
Like Rahu 472 when his deadly might 
Comes rushing on the Lord of Night. 



472 The demon who causes eclipses. 



Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted. 923 

Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted. 



But when he turned his eye where bled 

Both Trisiras and Dushan dead, 

Fear o'er the giant's spirit came 

Of Rama's might which naught could tame. 

He saw his savage legions, those 

Whose force no creature dared oppose, — 

He saw the leader of his train 

By Rama's single prowess slain. 

With burning grief he marked the few 

Still left him of his giant crew. 

As Namuchi 473 on Indra, so 

Rushed the dread demon on his foe. 

His mighty bow the monster strained, 

And angrily on Rama rained 

His mortal arrows in a flood, 

Like serpent fangs athirst for blood. 

Skilled in the bowman's warlike art, 

He plied the string and poised the dart. 

Here, on his car, and there, he rode, 

And passages of battle showed, 

While all the skyey regions grew 

Dark with his arrows as they flew. 

Then Rama seized his ponderous bow, 

And straight the heaven was all aglow 

With shafts whose stroke no life might bear 

That filled with flash and flame the air, 



473 '"pjyg Asura was a friend of Indra, and taking advantage of his friend's 
confidence, he drank up Indra's strength along with a draught of wine and 
Soma. Indra then told the Asvins and Sarasvati that Namuchi had drunk up 
his strength. The Asvins in consequence gave Indra a thunderbolt in the form 
of a foam, with which he smote off the head of Namuchi." GARRETT'S{FNS 
Classical Dictionary of India. See also Book I. p. 39. 



924 The Ramayana 

Thick as the blinding torrents sent 
Down from Parjanya's 474 firmament. 
In space itself no space remained, 
But all was filled with arrows rained 
Incessantly from each great bow 
Wielded by Rama and his foe. 
As thus in furious combat, wrought 
To mortal hate, the warriors fought, 
The sun himself grew faint and pale, 
Obscured behind that arrowy veil. 

As when beneath the driver's steel 
An elephant is forced to kneel, 
So from the hard and pointed head 
Of many an arrow Rama bled. 
High on his car the giant rose 
[262] Prepared in deadly strife to close, 

And all the spirits saw him stand 
Like Yama with his noose in hand. 
For Khara deemed in senseless pride 
That he, beneath whose hand had died 
The giant legions, failed at length 
Slow sinking with exhausted strength. 
But Rama, like a lion, when 
A trembling deer comes nigh his den, 
Feared not the demon mad with hate, — 
Of lion might and lion gait. 
Then in his lofty car that glowed 
With sunlike brilliance Khara rode 
At Rama: madly on he came 
Like a poor moth that seeks the flame. 
His archer skill the fiend displayed, 
And at the place where Rama laid 



Canto XXVIII. Khara Dismounted. 925 

His hand, an arrow cleft in two 

The mighty bow the hero drew. 

Seven arrows by the giant sent, 

Bright as the bolts of Indra, rent 

Their way through mail and harness joints, 

And pierced him with their iron points. 

On Rama, hero unsurpassed, 

A thousand shafts smote thick and fast, 

While as each missile struck, rang out 

The giant's awful battle-shout. 

His knotted arrows pierced and tore 

The sunbright mail the hero wore, 

Till, band and buckle rent away, 

Glittering on the ground it lay. 

Then pierced in shoulder, breast, and side, 

Till every limb with blood was dyed, 

The chieftain in majestic ire 

Shone glorious as the smokeless fire. 

Then loud and long the war-cry rose 

Of Rama, terror of his foes, 

As, on the giant's death intent, 

A ponderous bow he strung and bent, — 

Lord Vishnu's own, of wondrous size, — 

Agastya gave the heavenly prize. 

Then rushing on the demon foe, 

He raised on high that mighty bow, 

And with his well-wrought shafts, whereon 

Bright gold between the feathers shone, 

He struck the pennon fluttering o'er 

The chariot, and it waved no more. 

That glorious flag whose every fold 

Was rich with blazonry and gold, 

Fell as the sun himself by all 

The Gods' decree might earthward fall. 



926 The Ramayana 

From wrathful Khara's hand, whose art 
Well knew each vulnerable part, 
Four keenly-piercing arrows flew, 
And blood in Rama's bosom drew, 
With every limb distained with gore 
From deadly shafts which rent and tore, 
From Khara's clanging bowstring shots, 
The prince's wrath waxed wondrous hot. 
His hand upon his bow that best 
Of mighty archers firmly pressed, 
And from the well-drawn bowstring, true 
Each to its mark, six arrows flew. 
One quivered in the giant's head, 
With two his brawny shoulders bled; 
Three, with the crescent heads they bore, 
Deep in his breast a passage tore. 
Thirteen, to which the stone had lent 
The keenest point, were swiftly sent 
On the fierce giant, every one 
Destructive, gleaming like the sun. 
With four the dappled steeds he slew; 
One cleft the chariot yoke in two, 
One, in the heat of battle sped, 
Smote from the neck the driver's head. 
The poles were rent apart by three; 
Two broke the splintered axle-tree. 
Then from the hand of Rama, while 
Across his lips there came a smile, 
The twelfth, like thunderbolt impelled, 
Cut the great hand and bow it held. 
Then, scarce by Indra's self surpassed, 
He pierced the giant with the last. 
The bow he trusted cleft in twain, 
His driver and his horses slain, 



Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat. 927 

Down sprang the giant, mace in hand, 
On foot against the foe to stand. 
The Gods and saints in bright array 

Close gathered in the skies, 
The prince's might in battle-fray 

Beheld with joyful eyes. 
Uprising from their golden seats, 

Their hands in honour raised, 
They looked on Rama's noble feats, 

And blessed him as they praised. 



Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat. 



When Rama saw the giant nigh, 
On foot, alone, with mace reared high, 
In mild reproof at first he spoke, 
Then forth his threatening anger broke: 
"Thou with the host 'twas thine to lead, 
With elephant and car and steed, 
Hast wrought an act of sin and shame, 
An act which all who live must blame. 
Know that the wretch whose evil mind 
Joys in the grief of human kind, 
Though the three worlds confess him lord, 
Must perish dreaded and abhorred. 
Night-rover, when a villain's deeds 
Distress the world he little heeds, 
Each hand is armed his life to take, 
And crush him like a deadly snake. 
The end is near when men begin 
Through greed or lust a life of sin, 



928 The Ramayana 

E'en as a Brahman's dame, unwise, 
[263] Eats of the fallen hail 475 and dies. 

Thy hand has slain the pure and good, 
The hermit saints of Dan dak wood, 
Of holy life, the heirs of bliss; 
And thou shalt reap the fruit of this. 
Not long shall they whose cruel breasts 
Joy in the sin the world detests 
Retain their guilty power and pride, 
But fade like trees whose roots are dried. 
Yes, as the seasons come and go, 
Each tree its kindly fruit must show, 
And sinners reap in fitting time 
The harvest of each earlier crime. 
As those must surely die who eat 
Unwittingly of poisoned meat, 
They too whose lives in sin are spent 
Receive ere long the punishment. 
And know, thou rover of the night, 
That I, a king, am sent to smite 
The wicked down, who court the hate 
Of men whose laws they violate. 
This day my vengeful hand shall send 
Shafts bright with gold to tear and rend, 
And pass with fury through thy breast 
As serpents pierce an emmet's nest. 
Thou with thy host this day shalt be 
Among the dead below, and see 
The saints beneath thy hand who bled, 
Whose flesh thy cruel maw has fed. 
They, glorious on their seats of gold, 
Their slayer shall in hell behold. 



475 Popularly supposed to cause death. 



Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat. 929 

Fight with all strength thou callest thine, 
Mean scion of ignoble line, 
Still, like the palm-tree's fruit, this day 
My shafts thy head in dust shall lay." 

Such were the words that Rama said: 
Then Khara's eyes with wrath glowed red, 
Who, maddened by the rage that burned 
Within him, with a smile returned: 

"Thou Dasaratha's son, hast slain 
The meaner giants of my train: 
And canst thou idly vaunt thy might 
And claim the praise not thine by right? 
Not thus in self-laudation rave 
The truly great, the nobly brave: 
No empty boasts like thine disgrace 
The foremost of the human race. 
The mean of soul, unknown to fame, 
Who taint their warrior race with shame, 
Thus speak in senseless pride as thou, 
O Raghu's son, hast boasted now. 
What hero, when the war-cry rings, 
Vaunts the high race from which he springs, 
Or seeks, when warriors meet and die, 
His own descent to glorify? 
Weakness and folly show confessed 
In every vaunt thou utterest, 
As when the flames fed high with grass 
Detect the simulating brass. 
Dost thou not see me standing here 
Armed with the mighty mace I rear, 
Firm as an earth upholding hill 
Whose summit veins of metal fill? 



930 The Ramayana 

Lo, here I stand before thy face 
To slay thee with my murderous mace, 
As Death, the universal lord, 
Stands threatening with his fatal cord. 
Enough of this. Much more remains 
That should be said: but time constrains. 
Ere to his rest the sun descend, 
And shades of night the combat end, 
The twice seven thousand of my band 
Who fell beneath thy bloody hand 
Shall have their tears all wiped away 
And triumph in thy fall to-day." 



He spoke, and loosing from his hold 
His mighty mace ringed round with gold, 
Like some red bolt alive with fire 
Hurled it at Rama, mad with ire. 
The ponderous mace which Khara threw 
Sent fiery flashes as it flew. 
Trees, shrubs were scorched beneath the blast, 
As onward to its aim it passed. 
But Rama, watching as it sped 
Dire as His noose who rules the dead, 
Cleft it with arrows as it came 
On rushing with a hiss and flame. 
Its fury spent and burnt away, 
Harmless upon the ground it lay 
Like a great snake in furious mood 
By herbs of numbing power subdued. 



Canto XXX. Khara's Death. 93 1 

Canto XXX. Khara's Death. 



When Rama, pride of Raghu's race, 
Virtue's dear son, had cleft the mace, 
Thus with superior smile the best 
Of chiefs the furious fiend addressed: 

"Thou, worst of giant blood, at length 
Hast shown the utmost of thy strength, 
And forced by greater might to bow, 
Thy vaunting threats are idle now. 
My shafts have cut thy club in twain: 
Useless it lies upon the plain, 
And all thy pride and haughty trust 
Lie with it levelled in the dust. 
The words that thou hast said to-day, 
That thou wouldst wipe the tears away 
Of all the giants I have slain, 
My deeds shall render void and vain. 
Thou meanest of the giants' breed, 
Evil in thought and word and deed, 
My hand shall take that life of thine 

As Garud 476 seized the juice divine. [264] 

Thou, rent by shafts, this day shalt die: 
Low on the ground thy corse shall lie, 
And bubbles from the cloven neck 
With froth and blood thy skin shall deck. 
With dust and mire all rudely dyed, 
Thy torn arms lying by thy side, 
While streams of blood each limb shall steep, 
Thou on earth's breast shalt take thy sleep 



476 Garud, the King of Birds, carried off the Amrit or drink of Paradise from 
Indra's custody. 



932 The Ramayana 

Like a fond lover when he strains 
The beauty whom at length he gains. 
Now when thy heavy eyelids close 
For ever in thy deep repose, 
Again shall Dandak forest be 
Safe refuge for the devotee. 
Thou slain, and all thy race who held 
The realm of Janasthan expelled, 
Again shall happy hermits rove, 
Fearing no danger, through the grove. 
Within those bounds, their brethren slain, 
No giant shall this day remain, 
But all shall fly with many a tear 
And fearing, rid the saints of fear. 
This bitter day shall misery bring 
On all the race that calls thee king. 
Fierce as their lord, thy dames shall know, 
Bereft of joys, the taste of woe. 
Base, cruel wretch, of evil mind, 
Plaguer of Brahmans and mankind, 
With trembling hands each devotee 
Feeds holy fires in dread of thee." 

Thus with wild fury unrepressed 
Raghu's brave son the fiend addressed; 
And Khara, as his wrath grew high, 
Thus thundered forth his fierce reply: 

"By senseless pride to madness wrought, 
By danger girt thou fearest naught, 
Nor heedest, numbered with the dead, 
What thou shouldst say and leave unsaid. 
When Fate's tremendous coils enfold 
The captive in resistless hold, 



Canto XXX. Khara's Death. 933 

He knows not right from wrong, each sense 
Numbed by that deadly influence." 

He spoke, and when his speech was done 
Bent his fierce brows on Raghu's son. 
With eager eyes he looked around 
If lethal arms might yet be found. 
Not far away and full in view 
A Sal-tree towering upward grew. 
His lips in mighty strain compressed, 
He tore it up with root and crest, 
With huge arms waved it o'er his head 
And hurled it shouting, Thou art dead. 
But Rama, unsurpassed in might, 
Stayed with his shafts its onward flight, 
And furious longing seized his soul 
The giant in the dust to roll. 
Great drops of sweat each limb bedewed, 
His red eyes showed his wrathful mood. 
A thousand arrows, swiftly sent, 
The giant's bosom tore and rent. 
From every gash his body showed 
The blood in foamy torrents flowed, 
As springing from their caverns leap 
Swift rivers down the mountain steep. 
When Khara felt each deadened power 
Yielding beneath that murderous shower, 
He charged, infuriate with the scent 
Of blood, in dire bewilderment. 
But Rama watched, with ready bow, 
The onset of his bleeding foe, 
And ere the monster reached him, drew 
Backward in haste a yard or two. 
Then from his side a shaft he took 



934 The Ramayana 

Whose mortal stroke no life might brook: 

Of peerless might, it bore the name 

Of Brahma's staff, and glowed with flame: 

Lord Indra, ruler of the skies, 

Himself had given the glorious prize. 

His bow the virtuous hero drew, 

And at the fiend the arrow flew. 

Hissing and roaring like the blast 

Of tempest through the air it passed, 

And fixed, by Rama's vigour sped, 

In the foe's breast its pointed head. 

Then fell the fiend: the quenchless flame 

Burnt furious in his wounded frame. 

So burnt by Rudra Andhak 477 fell 

In Svetaranya's silvery dell: 

So Namuchi and Vritra 478 died 

By steaming bolts that tamed their pride: 

So Bala 479 fell by lightning sent 

By Him who rules the firmament. 

Then all the Gods in close array 
With the bright hosts who sing and play, 
Filled full of rapture and amaze, 
Sang hymns of joy in Rama's praise, 
Beat their celestial drums and shed 
Rain of sweet flowers upon his head. 
For three short hours had scarcely flown, 
And by his pointed shafts o'erthrown 
The twice seven thousand fiends, whose will 



477 A demon, son of Kasyap and Diti, slain by Rudra or Siva when he attempted 
to carry off the tree of Paradise. 

478 Namuchi and Vritra were two demons slain by Indra. Vritra personifies 
drought, the enemy of Indra, who imprisons the rain in the cloud. 

479 Another demon slain by Indra. 



Canto XXX. Khara's Death. 935 

Could change their shapes, in death were still, 

With Trisiras and Dushan slain, 

And Khara, leader of the train. 

"O wondrous deed," the bards began, 

"The noblest deed of virtuous man! 

Heroic strength that stood alone, 

And firmness e'en as Vishnu's own!" 



Thus having sung, the shining train 
Turned to their heavenly homes again. [265] 

Then the high saints of royal race 
And loftiest station sought the place, 
And by the great Agastya led, 
With reverence to Rama said: 



"For this, Lord Indra, glorious sire, 
Majestic as the burning fire, 
Who crushes cities in his rage, 
Sought Sarabhanga's hermitage. 
Thou wast, this great design to aid, 
Led by the saints to seek this shade, 
And with thy mighty arm to kill 
The giants who delight in ill. 
Thou Dasaratha's noble son, 
The battle for our sake hast won, 
And saints in Dandaks wild who live 
Their days to holy tasks can give." 



936 The Ramayana 

Forth from the mountain cavern came 
The hero Lakshman with the dame. 
And rapture beaming from his face, 
Resought the hermit dwelling-place. 
Then when the mighty saints had paid 
Due honour for the victor's aid, 
The glorious Rama honoured too 
By Lakshman to his cot withdrew. 
When Sita looked upon her lord, 
His foemen slain, the saints restored, 
In pride and rapture uncontrolled 
She clasped him in her loving hold. 
On the dead fiends her glances fell: 
She saw her lord alive and well, 
Victorious after toil and pain, 
And Janak's child was blest again. 
Once more, once more with new delight 

Her tender arms she threw 
Round Rama whose victorious might 

Had crushed the demon crew. 
Then as his grateful reverence paid 

Each saint of lofty soul, 
O'er her sweet face, all fears allayed, 

The flush of transport stole. 



Canto XXXI. Ravan. 



But of the host of giants one, 
Akampan, from the field had run 
And sped to Lanka 480 to relate 



480 The capital of the giant king Ravan. 



Canto XXXI. Ravan. 937 

In Ravan's ear the demons' fate: 



"King, many a giant from the shade 
Of Janasthan in death is laid: 
Khara the chief is slain, and I 
Could scarcely from the battle fly." 



Fierce anger, as the monarch heard, 
Inflamed his look, his bosom stirred, 
And while with scorching glance he eyed 
The messenger, he thus replied: 



"What fool has dared, already dead, 
Strike Janasthan, the general dread? 
Who is the wretch shall vainly try 
In earth, heaven, hell, from me to fly? 
Vaisravan, 481 Indra, Vishnu, He 
Who rules the dead, must reverence me; 
For not the mightiest lord of these 
Can brave my will and live at ease. 
Fate finds in me a mightier fate 
To burn the fires that devastate. 
With unresisted influence I 
Can force e'en Death himself to die, 
With all-surpassing might restrain 
The fury of the hurricane, 
And burn in my tremendous ire 
The glory of the sun and fire." 



481 Kuvera, the God of gold. 



938 The Ramayana 

As thus the fiend's hot fury blazed, 
His trembling hands Akampan raised, 
And with a voice which fear made weak, 
Permission craved his tale to speak. 
King Ravan gave the leave he sought, 
And bade him tell the news he brought. 
His courage rose, his voice grew bold, 
And thus his mournful tale he told: 

"A prince with mighty shoulders, sprung 
From Dasaratha, brave and young, 
With arms well moulded, bears the name 
Of Rama with a lion's frame. 
Renowned, successful, dark of limb, 
Earth has no warrior equals him. 
He fought in Janasthan and slew 
Dushan the fierce and Khara too." 

Ravan the giants' royal chief. 
Received Akampan's tale of grief. 
Then, panting like an angry snake, 
These words in turn the monarch spake: 

"Say quick, did Rama seek the shade 
Of Janasthan with Indra's aid, 
And all the dwellers in the skies 
To back his hardy enterprise?" 

Akampan heard, and straight obeyed 
His master, and his answer made. 
Then thus the power and might he told 
Of Raghu's son the lofty-souled: 



Canto XXXI. Ravan. 939 

"Best is that chief of all who know 
With deftest art to draw the bow. 
His are strange arms of heavenly might, 
And none can match him in the fight. 
His brother Lakshman brave as he, 
Fair as the rounded moon to see, 
With eyes like night and voice that comes 
Deep as the roll of beaten drums, 
By Rama's side stands ever near, 
Like wind that aids the flame's career. 
That glorious chief, that prince of kings, 
On Janasthan this ruin brings. 
No Gods were there, — dismiss the thought 
No heavenly legions came and fought. 
His swift-winged arrows Rama sent, 
Each bright with gold and ornament. 

To serpents many-faced they turned: [266] 

The giant hosts they ate and burned. 
Where'er these fled in wild dismay 
Rama was there to strike and slay. 
By him O King of high estate, 
Is Janasthan left desolate." 

Akampan ceased: in angry pride 
The giant monarch thus replied: 
"To Janasthan myself will go 
And lay these daring brothers low." 

Thus spoke the king in furious mood: 
Akampan then his speech renewed: 
"O listen while I tell at length 
The terror of the hero's strength. 
No power can check, no might can tame 
Rama, a chief of noblest fame. 



940 The Ramayana 

He with resistless shafts can stay 

The torrent foaming on its way. 

Sky, stars, and constellations, all 

To his fierce might would yield and fall. 

His power could earth itself uphold 

Down sinking as it sank of old. 482 

Or all its plains and cities drown, 

Breaking the wild sea's barrier down; 

Crush the great deep's impetuous will, 

Or bid the furious wind be still. 

He glorious in his high estate 

The triple world could devastate, 

And there, supreme of men, could place 

His creatures of a new-born race. 

Never can mighty Rama be 

O'ercome in fight, my King, by thee. 

Thy giant host the day might win 

From him, if heaven were gained by sin. 

If Gods were joined with demons, they 

Could ne'er, I ween, that hero slay, 

But guile may kill the wondrous man; 

Attend while I disclose the plan. 

His wife, above all women graced, 

Is Sita of the dainty waist, 

With limbs to fair proportion true, 

And a soft skin of lustrous hue, 

Round neck and arm rich gems are twined: 

She is the gem of womankind. 

With her no bright Gandharvi vies, 

No nymph or Goddess in the skies; 

And none to rival her would dare 

'Mid dames who part the long black hair. 



482 In the great deluge. 



Canto XXXI. Ravan. 941 

That hero in the wood beguile, 
And steal his lovely spouse the while. 
Reft of his darling wife, be sure, 
Brief days the mourner will endure." 



With flattering hope of triumph moved 
The giant king that plan approved, 
Pondered the counsel in his breast, 
And then Akampan thus addressed: 
"Forth in my car I go at morn, 
None but the driver with me borne, 
And this fair Sita will I bring 
Back to my city triumphing." 



Forth in his car by asses drawn 
The giant monarch sped at dawn, 
Bright as the sun, the chariot cast 
Light through the sky as on it passed. 
Then high in air that best of cars 
Traversed the path of lunar stars, 
Sending a fitful radiance pale 
As moonbeams shot through cloudy veil. 
Far on his airy way he flew: 
Near Tadakeya's 483 grove he drew. 
Maricha welcomed him, and placed 
Before him food which giants taste, 
With honour led him to a seat, 
And brought him water for his feet; 
And then with timely words addressed 
Such question to his royal guest: 



The giant Maricha, son of Tadaka. Tadaka was slain by Rama. See p. 39. 



942 The Ramayana 

"Speak, is it well with thee whose sway 
The giant multitudes obey? 
I know not all, and ask in fear 
The cause, O King, why thou art here." 

Rava, the giants' mighty king, 
Heard wise Maricha's questioning, 
And told with ready answer, taught 
In eloquence, the cause he sought: 
"My guards, the bravest of my band, 
Are slain by Rama's vigorous hand, 
And Janasthan, that feared no hate 
Of foes, is rendered desolate. 
Come, aid me in the plan I lay 
To steal the conqueror's wife away." 

Maricha heard the king's request, 
And thus the giant chief addressed: 

"What foe in friendly guise is he 
Who spoke of Sita's name to thee? 
Who is the wretch whose thought would bring 
Destruction on the giants' king? 
Whose is the evil counsel, say, 
That bids thee bear his wife away, 
And careless of thy life provoke 
Earth's loftiest with threatening stroke? 
A foe is he who dared suggest 
This hopeless folly to thy breast, 
Whose ill advice would bid thee draw 
The venomed fang from serpent's jaw. 
By whose unwise suggestion led 
Wilt thou the path of ruin tread? 
Whence falls the blow that would destroy 
Thy gentle sleep of ease and joy? 



Canto XXXI. Ravan. 943 

Like some wild elephant is he 

That rears his trunk on high, 
Lord of an ancient pedigree, 

Huge tusks, and furious eye. 
Ravan, no rover of the night 

With bravest heart can brook, 
Met in the front of deadly fight, 

On Raghu's son to look. [267] 

The giant hosts were brave and strong, 

Good at the bow and spear: 
But Rama slew the routed throng, 

A lion 'mid the deer. 
No lion's tooth can match his sword, 

Or arrows fiercely shot: 
He sleeps, he sleeps — the lion lord; 

Be wise and rouse him not. 
O Monarch of the giants, well 

Upon my counsel think, 
Lest thou for ever in the hell 

Of Rama's vengeance sink: 
A hell, where deadly shafts are sent 

From his tremendous-bow, 
While his great arms all flight prevent, 

Like deepest mire below: 
Where the wild floods of battle rave 

Above the foeman's head, 
And each with many a feathery wave 

Of shafts is garlanded. 
O, quench the flames that in thy breast 

With raging fury burn; 
And pacified and self-possessed 

To Lanka's town return. 
Rest thou in her imperial bowers 

With thine own wives content, 



944 The Ramayana 

And in the wood let Rama's hours 
With Sita still be spent." 

The lord of Lanka's isle obeyed 
The counsel, and his purpose stayed. 
Borne on his car he parted thence 
And gained his royal residence. 



Canto XXXII. Ravan Roused. 



But Surpanakha saw the plain 
Spread with the fourteen thousand slain, 
Doers of cruel deeds o'erthrown 
By Rama's mighty arm alone, 
Add Trisiras and Dushan dead, 
And Khara, with the hosts they led. 
Their death she saw, and mad with pain, 
Roared like a cloud that brings the rain, 
And fled in anger and dismay 
To Lanka, seat of Ravan's sway. 
There on a throne of royal state 
Exalted sat the potentate, 
Begirt with counsellor and peer, 
Like Indra with the Storm Gods near. 
Bright as the sun's full splendour shone 
The glorious throne he sat upon, 
As when the blazing fire is red 
Upon a golden altar fed. 
Wide gaped his mouth at every breath, 
Tremendous as the jaws of Death. 
With him high saints of lofty thought, 



Canto XXXII. Ravan Roused. 945 

Gandharvas, Gods, had vainly fought. 

The wounds were on his body yet 

From wars where Gods and demons met. 

And scars still marked his ample chest 

By fierce Airavat's 484 tusk impressed. 

A score of arms, ten necks, had he, 

His royal gear was brave to see. 

His massive form displayed each sign 

That marks the heir of kingly line. 

In stature like a mountain height, 

His arms were strong, his teeth were white, 

And all his frame of massive mould 

Seemed lazulite adorned with gold. 

A hundred seams impressed each limp 

Where Vishnu's arm had wounded him, 

And chest and shoulder bore the print 

Of sword and spear and arrow dint, 

Where every God had struck a blow 

In battle with the giant foe. 

His might to wildest rage could wake 

The sea whose faith naught else can shake, 

Hurl towering mountains to the earth, 

And crush e'en foes of heavenly birth. 

The bonds of law and right he spurned: 

To others' wives his fancy turned. 

Celestial arms he used in fight, 

And loved to mar each holy rite. 

He went to Bhogavati's town, 485 

Where Vasuki was beaten down, 

And stole, victorious in the strife, 

Lord Takshaka's beloved wife. 



484 Indra's elephant. 

485 Bhogavati, in Patala in the regions under the earth, is the capital of the 
serpent race whose king is Vasuki. 



946 The Ramayana 

Kailasa's lofty crest he sought, 
And when in vain Kuvera fought, 
Stole Pushpak thence, the car that through 
The air, as willed the master, flew. 
Impelled by furious anger, he 
Spoiled Nandan's 486 shade and Nalini, 
And Chaitraratha's heavenly grove, 
The haunts where Gods delight to rove. 
Tall as a hill that cleaves the sky, 
He raised his mighty arms on high 
To check the blessed moon, and stay 
The rising of the Lord of Day. 
Ten thousand years the giant spent 
On dire austerities intent, 
And of his heads an offering, laid 
Before the Self-existent, made. 
No God or fiend his life could take, 
Gandharva, goblin, bird, or snake: 
Safe from all fears of death, except 
From human arm, that life was kept. 
Oft when the priests began to raise 
Their consecrating hymns of praise, 
He spoiled the Soma's sacred juice 
[268] Poured forth by them in solemn use. 

The sacrifice his hands o'erthrew, 
And cruelly the Brahmans slew. 
His was a heart that naught could melt, 
Joying in woes which others felt. 

She saw the ruthless monster there, 
Dread of the worlds, unused to spare. 
In robes of heavenly texture dressed, 
Celestial wreaths adorned his breast. 



486 the grove of Indra. 



Canto XXXIII. Surpanakha's Speech. 947 

He sat a shape of terror, like 
Destruction ere the worlds it strike. 
She saw him in his pride of place, 
The joy of old Pulastya's 487 race, 
Begirt by counsellor and peer, 
Ravan, the foeman's mortal fear, 
And terror in her features shown, 
The giantess approached the throne. 
Then Surpanakha bearing yet 

Each deeply printed trace 
Where the great-hearted chief had set 

A mark upon her face, 
Impelled by terror and desire, 
Still fierce, no longer bold, 
To Ravan of the eyes of fire 
Her tale, infuriate, told. 



Canto XXXIII. Surpanakha's Speech. 



Burning with anger, in the ring 
Of counsellors who girt their king, 
To Ravan, ravener of man, 
With bitter words she thus began: 



487 Pulastya is considered as the ancestor of the Rakshases or giants, as he is 
the father of Visravas, the father of Ravan and his brethren. 



948 The Ramayana 

"Wilt thou absorbed in pleasure, still 
Pursue unchecked thy selfish will: 
Nor turn thy heedless eyes to see 
The coming fate which threatens thee? 
The king who days and hours employs 
In base pursuit of vulgar joys 
Must in his people's sight be vile 
As fire that smokes on funeral pile. 
He who when duty calls him spares 
No time for thought of royal cares, 
Must with his realm and people all 
Involved in fatal ruin fall. 
As elephants in terror shrink 
From the false river's miry brink, 
Thus subjects from a monarch flee 
Whose face their eyes may seldom see, 
Who spends the hours for toil ordained 
In evil courses unrestrained. 
He who neglects to guard and hold 
His kingdom by himself controlled, 
Sinks nameless like a hill whose head 
Is buried in the ocean's bed. 
Thy foes are calm and strong and wise, 
Fiends, Gods, and warriors of the skies, — 
How, heedless, wicked, weak, and vain, 
Wilt thou thy kingly state maintain? 
Thou, lord of giants, void of sense, 
Slave of each changing influence, 
Heedless of all that makes a king, 
Destruction on thy head wilt bring. 
O conquering chief, the prince, who boasts, 
Of treasury and rule and hosts, 
By others led, though lord of all, 
Is meaner than the lowest thrall. 



Canto XXXIII. Surpanakha's Speech. 949 

For this are monarchs said to be 

Long-sighted, having power to see 

Things far away by faithful eyes 

Of messengers and loyal spies. 

But aid from such thou wilt not seek: 

Thy counsellors are blind and weak, 

Or thou from these hadst surely known 

Thy legions and thy realm o'erthrown. 

Know, twice seven thousand, fierce in might, 

Are slain by Rama in the fight, 

And they, the giant host who led, 

Khara and Dushan, both are dead. 

Know, Rama with his conquering arm 

Has freed the saints from dread of harm, 

Has smitten Janasthan and made 

Asylum safe in Dandak's shade. 

Enslaved and dull, of blinded sight, 

Intoxicate with vain delight, 

Thou closest still thy heedless eyes 

To dangers in thy realm that rise. 

A king besotted, mean, unkind, 

Of niggard hand and slavish mind. 

Will find no faithful followers heed 

Their master in his hour of need. 

The friend on whom he most relies, 

In danger, from a monarch flies, 

Imperious in his high estate, 

Conceited, proud, and passionate; 

Who ne'er to state affairs attends 

With wholesome fear when woe impends 

Most weak and worthless as the grass, 

Soon from his sway the realm will pass. 

For rotting wood a use is found, 

For clods and dust that strew the ground, 



950 The Ramayana 

But when a king has lost his sway, 
Useless he falls, and sinks for aye. 
As raiment by another worn, 
As faded garland crushed and torn, 
So is, unthroned, the proudest king, 
Though mighty once, a useless thing. 
But he who every sense subdues 
And each event observant views, 
Rewards the good and keeps from wrong, 
Shall reign secure and flourish long. 
Though lulled in sleep his senses lie 
He watches with a ruler's eye, 
Untouched by favour, ire, and hate, 
And him the people celebrate. 
[269] O weak of mind, without a trace 

Of virtues that a king should grace, 
Who hast not learnt from watchful spy 
That low in death the giants lie. 
Scorner of others, but enchained 
By every base desire, 
By thee each duty is disdained 

Which time and place require. 
Soon wilt thou, if thou canst not learn, 

Ere yet it be too late, 
The good from evil to discern, 

Fall from thy high estate." 
As thus she ceased not to upbraid 

The king with cutting speech, 
And every fault to view displayed, 

Naming and marking each, 
The monarch of the sons of night, 
Of wealth and power possessed, 
And proud of his imperial might, 
Long pondered in his breast. 



Canto XXXIV. Surpanakha's Speech. 95 1 

Canto XXXIV. Surpanakha's Speech. 



Then forth the giant's fury broke 
As Siirpanakha harshly spoke. 
Girt by his lords the demon king 
Looked on her, fiercely questioning: 



"Who is this Rama, whence, and where? 
His form, his might, his deeds declare. 
His wandering steps what purpose led 
To Dandak forest, hard to tread? 
What arms are his that he could smite 
In fray the rovers of the night, 
And Trisiras and Diishan lay 
Low on the earth, and Khara slay? 
Tell all, my sister, and declare 
Who maimed thee thus, of form most fair." 



Thus by the giant king addressed, 
While burnt her fury unrepressed, 
The giantess declared at length 
The hero's form and deeds and strength: 



952 The Ramayana 

"Long are his arms and large his eyes: 
A black deer's skin his dress supplies. 
King Dasaratha's son is he, 
Fair as Kandarpa's self to see. 
Adorned with many a golden band, 
A bow, like Indra's, arms his hand, 
And shoots a flood of arrows fierce 
As venomed snakes to burn and pierce. 
I looked, I looked, but never saw 
His mighty hand the bowstring draw 
That sent the deadly arrows out, 
While rang through air his battle-shout. 
I looked, I looked, and saw too well 
How with that hail the giants fell, 
As falls to earth the golden grain, 
Struck by the blows of Indra's rain. 
He fought, and twice seven thousand, all 
Terrific giants, strong and tall, 
Fell by the pointed shafts o'erthrown 
Which Rama shot on foot, alone. 
Three little hours had scarcely fled, — 
Khara and Diishan both were dead, 
And he had freed the saints and made 
Asylum sure in Dandak's shade. 
Me of his grace the victor spared, 
Or I the giants' fate had shared. 
The high-souled Rama would not deign 
His hand with woman's blood to stain. 
The glorious Lakshman, justly dear, 
In gifts and warrior might his peer, 
Serves his great brother with the whole 
Devotion of his faithful soul: 
Impetuous victor, bold and wise, 
First in each hardy enterprise, 



Canto XXXIV. Surpanakha's Speech. 953 

Still ready by his side to stand, 

A second self or better hand. 

And Rama has a large-eyed spouse, 

Pure as the moon her cheek and brows, 

Dearer than life in Rama's sight, 

Whose happiness is her delight. 

With beauteous hair and nose the dame 

From head to foot has naught to blame. 

She shines the wood's bright Goddess, Queen 

Of beauty with her noble mien. 

First in the ranks of women placed 

Is Sita of the dainty waist. 

In all the earth mine eyes have ne'er 

Seen female form so sweetly fair. 

Goddess nor nymph can vie with her, 

Nor bride of heavenly chorister. 

He who might call this dame his own, 

Her eager arms about him thrown, 

Would live more blest in SM's love 

Than Indra in the world above. 

She, peerless in her form and face 

And rich in every gentle grace, 

Is worthy bride, O King, for thee, 

As thou art meet her lord to be. 

I even I, will bring the bride 

In triumph to her lover's side — 

This beauty fairer than the rest, 

With rounded limb and heaving breast. 

Each wound upon my face I owe 

To cruel Lakshman's savage blow. 

But thou, O brother, shalt survey 

Her moonlike loveliness to-day, 

And Kama's piercing shafts shall smite 

Thine amorous bosom at the sight. 



954 The Ramayana 

If in thy breast the longing rise 
To make thine own the beauteous prize, 
Up, let thy better foot begin 
The journey and the treasure win. 
If, giant Lord, thy favouring eyes 
Regard the plan which I advise, 
Up, cast all fear and doubt away 
And execute the words I say 
Come, giant King, this treasure seek, 
[270] For thou art strong and they are weak. 

Let Sita of the faultless frame 
Be borne away and be thy dame. 
Thy host in Janasthan who dwelt 

Forth to the battle hied. 
And by the shafts which Rama dealt 

They perished in their pride. 
Dushan and Khara breathe no more, 

Laid low upon the plain. 
Arise, and ere the day be o'er 

Take vengeance for the slain." 



Canto XXXV. Ravan's Journey. 

When Ravan, by her fury spurred, 
That terrible advice had heard, 
He bade his nobles quit his side, 
And to the work his thought applied. 
He turned his anxious mind to scan 
On every side the hardy plan: 
The gain against the risk he laid, 
Each hope and fear with care surveyed, 



Canto XXXV. Ravan's Journey. 955 

And in his heart at length decreed 

To try performance of the deed. 

Then steady in his dire intent 

The giant to the courtyard went. 

There to his charioteer he cried, 

"Bring forth the car whereon I ride." 

Aye ready at his master's word 

The charioteer the order heard, 

And yoked with active zeal the best 

Of chariots at his lord's behest. 

Asses with heads of goblins drew 

That wondrous car where'er it flew. 

Obedient to the will it rolled 

Adorned with gems and glistering gold. 

Then mounting, with a roar as loud 

As thunder from a labouring cloud, 

The mighty monarch to the tide 

Of Ocean, lord of rivers, hied. 

White was the shade above him spread, 

White chouris waved around his head, 

And he with gold and jewels bright 

Shone like the glossy lazulite. 

Ten necks and twenty arms had he: 

His royal gear was good to see. 

The heavenly Gods' insatiate foe, 

Who made the blood of hermits flow, 

He like the Lord of Hills appeared 

With ten huge heads to heaven upreared. 

In the great car whereon he rode, 

Like some dark cloud the giant showed, 

When round it in their close array 

The cranes 'mid wreaths of lightning play. 

He looked, and saw, from realms of air, 

The rocky shore of ocean, where 



956 The Ramayana 

Unnumbered trees delightful grew 

With flower and fruit of every hue. 

He looked on many a lilied pool 

With silvery waters fresh and cool, 

And shores like spacious altars meet 

For holy hermits' lone retreat. 

The graceful palm adorned the scene, 

The plantain waved her glossy green. 

There grew the sal and betel, there 

On bending boughs the flowers were fair. 

There hermits dwelt who tamed each sense 

By strictest rule of abstinence: 

Gandharvas, Kinnars, 488 thronged the place, 

Nagas and birds of heavenly race. 

Bright minstrels of the ethereal quire, 

And saints exempt from low desire, 

With Ajas, sons of Brahma's line, 

Marichipas of seed divine, 

Vaikhanasas and Mashas strayed, 

And Balakhilyas 489 in the shade. 

The lovely nymphs of heaven were there, 

Celestial wreaths confined their hair, 

And to each form new grace was lent 

By wealth of heavenly ornament. 

Well skilled was each in play and dance 

And gentle arts of dalliance. 

The glorious wife of many a God 

Those beautiful recesses trod, 

There Gods and Danavs, all who eat 

The food of heaven, rejoiced to meet. 

The swan and Saras thronged each bay 



488 Beings with the body of a man and the head of a horse. 

489 Ajas, Marichipas, Vaikhanasas, Mashas, and Balakhilyas are classes of 
supernatural beings who lead the lives of hermits. 



Canto XXXV. Ravan's Journey. 957 

With curlews, ducks, and divers gay, 

Where the sea spray rose soft and white 

O'er rocks of glossy lazulite. 

As his swift way the fiend pursued 

Pale chariots of the Gods he viewed, 

Bearing each lord whose rites austere 

Had raised him to the heavenly sphere. 

Thereon celestial garlands hung, 

There music played and songs were sung. 

Then bright Gandharvas met his view, 

And heavenly nymphs, as on he flew. 

He saw the sandal woods below, 

And precious trees of odorous flow, 

That to the air around them lent 

Their riches of delightful scent; 

Nor failed his roving eye to mark 

Tall aloe trees in grove and park. 

He looked on wood with cassias filled, 

And plants which balmy sweets distilled, 

Where her fair flowers the betel showed 

And the bright pods of pepper glowed. 

The pearls in many a silvery heap 

Lay on the margin of the deep. 

And grey rocks rose amid the red 

Of coral washed from ocean's bed. [271] 

High soared the mountain peaks that bore 

Treasures of gold and silver ore, 

And leaping down the rocky walls 

Came wild and glorious waterfalls. 

Fair towns which grain and treasure held, 

And dames who every gem excelled, 

He saw outspread beneath him far, 

With steed, and elephant, and car. 

That ocean shore he viewed that showed 



958 The Ramayana 

Fair as the blessed Gods' abode 

Where cool delightful breezes played 

O'er levels in the freshest shade. 

He saw a fig-tree like a cloud 

With mighty branches earthward bowed. 

It stretched a hundred leagues and made 

For hermit bands a welcome shade. 

Thither the feathered king of yore 

An elephant and tortoise bore, 

And lighted on a bough to eat 

The captives of his taloned feet. 

The bough unable to sustain 

The crushing weight and sudden strain, 

Loaded with sprays and leaves of spring 

Gave way beneath the feathered king. 

Under the shadow of the tree 

Dwelt many a saint and devotee, 

Ajas, the sons of Brahma's line, 

Mashas, Marichipas divine. 

Vaikhanasas, and all the race 

Of Balakhilyas, loved the place. 

But pitying their sad estate 

The feathered monarch raised the weight 

Of the huge bough, and bore away 

The loosened load and captured prey. 

A hundred leagues away he sped, 

Then on his monstrous booty fed, 

And with the bough he smote the lands 

Where dwell the wild Nishada bands. 

High joy was his because his deed 

From jeopardy the hermits freed. 

That pride for great deliverance wrought 

A double share of valour brought. 

His soul conceived the high emprise 



Canto XXXV. Ravan' s Journey. 959 

To snatch the Amrit from the skies. 
He rent the nets of iron first, 
Then through the jewel chamber burst, 
And bore the drink of heaven away 
That watched in Indra's palace lay. 

Such was the hermit-sheltering tree 
Which Ravan turned his eye to see. 
Still marked where Garud sought to rest, 
The fig-tree bore the name of Blest. 

When Ravan stayed his chariot o'er 
The ocean's heart-enchanting shore, 
He saw a hermitage that stood 
Sequestered in the holy wood. 
He saw the fiend Maricha there 
With deerskin garb, and matted hair 
Coiled up in hermit guise, who spent 
His days by rule most abstinent. 
As guest and host are wont to meet, 
They met within that lone retreat. 
Before the king Maricha placed 
Food never known to human taste. 
He entertained his guest with meat 
And gave him water for his feet, 
And then addressed the giant king 
With timely words of questioning: 

"Lord, is it well with thee, and well 
With those in Lanka's town who dwell? 
What sudden thought, what urgent need 
Has brought thee with impetuous speed?" 



960 The Ramayana 

The fiend Maricha thus addressed 
Ravan the king, his mighty guest, 
And he, well skilled in arts that guide 
The eloquent, in turn replied: 



Canto XXXVI. Ravan's Speech. 

"Hear me, Maricha, while I speak, 
And tell thee why thy home I seek. 
Sick and distressed am I, and see 
My surest hope and help in thee. 
Of Janasthan I need not tell, 
Where Siirpanakha, Khara, dwell, 
And Diishan with the arm of might, 
And Trisiras, the fierce in fight, 
Who feeds on human flesh and gore, 
And many noble giants more, 
Who roam in dark of midnight through 
The forest, brave and strong and true. 
By my command they live at ease 
And slaughter saints and devotees. 
Those twice seven thousand giants, all 
Obedient to their captain's call, 
Joying in war and ruthless deeds 
Follow where mighty Khara leads. 
Those fearless warrior bands who roam 
Through Janasthan their forest home, 
In all their terrible array 
Met Rama in the battle fray. 
Girt with all weapons forth they sped 
With Khara at the army's head. 



Canto XXXVI. Ravan's Speech. 961 

The front of battle Rama held: 
With furious wrath his bosom swelled. 
Without a word his hate to show 
He launched the arrows from his bow. 
On the fierce hosts the missiles came, 
Each burning with destructive flame, 
The twice seven thousand fell o'erthrown 
By him, a man, on foot, alone. 
Khara the army's chief and pride, 
And Dushan, fearless warrior, died, 
And Trisiras the fierce was slain, 
And Dandak wood was free again. 

He, banished by his angry sire, 
Roams with his wife in mean attire. 
This wretch, his Warrior tribe's disgrace 

Has slain the best of giant race. [272] 

Harsh, wicked, fierce and greedy-souled, 
A fool, with senses uncontrolled, 
No thought of duty stirs his breast: 
He joys to see the world distressed. 
He sought the wood with fair pretence 
Of truthful life and innocence, 
But his false hand my sister left 
Mangled, of nose and ears bereft. 
This Rama's wife who bears the name 
Of Sita, in her face and frame 
Fair as a daughter of the skies, — 
Her will I seize and bring the prize 
Triumphant from the forest shade: 
For this I seek thy willing aid. 
If thou, O mighty one, wilt lend 
Thy help and stand beside thy friend, 
I with my brothers may defy 



962 The Ramayana 

All Gods embattled in the sky. 
Come, aid me now, for thine the power 
To succour in the doubtful hour. 
Thou art in war and time of fear, 
For heart and hand, without a peer. 
For thou art skilled in art and wile, 
A warrior brave and trained in guile. 
With this one hope, this only aim, 
O Rover of the Night, I came. 
Now let me tell what aid I ask 
To back me in my purposed task. 
In semblance of a golden deer 
Adorned with silver spots appear. 
Go, seek his dwelling: in the way 
Of Rama and his consort stray. 
Doubt not the lady, when she sees 
The wondrous deer amid the trees, 
Will bid her lord and Lakshman take 
The creature for its beauty's sake. 
Then when the chiefs have parted thence, 
And left her lone, without defence, 
As Rahu storms the moonlight, I 
Will seize the lovely dame and fly. 
Her lord will waste away and weep 
For her his valour could not keep. 
Then boldly will I strike the blow 
And wreak my vengeance on the foe." 

When wise Maricha heard the tale 
His heart grew faint, his cheek was pale, 
He stared with open orbs, and tried 
To moisten lips which terror dried, 
And grief, like death, his bosom rent 
As on the king his look he bent. 



Canto XXXVII. Maricha's Speech. 963 

The monarch's will he strove to stay, 

Distracted with alarm, 
For well he knew the might that lay 

In Rama's matchless arm. 
With suppliant hands Maricha stood 

And thus began to tell 
His counsel for the tyrant's good, 

And for his own as well: 



Canto XXXVII. Maricha's Speech. 



Maricha gave attentive ear 
The ruler of the fiends to hear: 
Then, trained in all the rules that teach 
The eloquent, began his speech: 
"Tis easy task, O King, to find 
Smooth speakers who delight the mind. 
But they who urge and they who do 
Distasteful things and wise, are few. 
Thou hast not learnt, by proof untaught, 
And borne away by eager thought, 
That Rama, formed for high emprise, 
With Varun or with Indra vies. 
Still let thy people live in peace, 
Nor let their name and lineage cease, 
For Rama with his vengeful hand 
Can sweep the giants from the land. 
O, let not Janak's daughter bring 
Destruction on the giant king. 
Let not the lady Sita wake 
A tempest, on thy head to break. 



964 The Ramayana 

Still let the dame, by care untried, 
Be happy by her husband's side, 
Lest swift avenging ruin fall 
On glorious Lanka, thee, and all. 
Men such as thou with wills unchained, 
Advised by sin and unrestrained, 
Destroy themselves, the king, the state, 
And leave the people desolate. 
Rama, in bonds of duty held, 
Was never by his sire expelled. 
He is no wretch of greedy mind, 
Dishonour of his Warrior kind. 
Free from all touch of rancorous spite, 
All creatures' good is his delight. 
He saw his sire of truthful heart 
Deceived by Queen Kaikeyi's art, 
And said, a true and duteous son, 
"What thou hast promised shall be done." 
To gratify the lady's will, 
His father's promise to fulfil, 
He left his realm and all delight 
For Dandak wood, an anchorite. 
No cruel wretch, no senseless fool 
Is Rama, unrestrained by rule. 
This groundless charge has ne'er been heard, 
Nor shouldst thou speak the slanderous word. 
Rama in truth and goodness bold 
Is Virtue's self in human mould, 
The sovereign of the world confessed 
As Indra rules among the Blest. 
And dost thou plot from him to rend 
The darling whom his arms defend? 
Less vain the hope to steal away 
[273] The glory of the Lord of Day. 



Canto XXXVII. Maricha's Speech. 965 

O Ravan, guard thee from the fire 

Of vengeful Rama's kindled ire, — 

Each spark a shaft with deadly aim, 

While bow and falchion feed the flame. 

Cast not away in hopeless strife 

Thy realm, thy bliss, thine own dear life. 

O Ravan of his might beware, 

A God of Death who will not spare. 

That bow he knows so well to draw 

Is the destroyer's flaming jaw, 

And with his shafts which flash and glow 

He slays the armies of the foe. 

Thou ne'er canst win — the thought forego — 

From the safe guard of shaft and bow 

King Janak's child, the dear delight 

Of Rama unapproached in might. 

The spouse of Raghu's son, confessed 

Lion of men with lion chest, — 

Dearer than life, through good and ill 

Devoted to her husband's will, 

The slender-waisted, still must be 

From thy polluting touches free. 

Far better grasp with venturous hand 

The flame to wildest fury fanned. 

What, King of giants, canst thou gain 

From this attempt so wild and vain? 

If in the fight his eye he bend 

Upon thee, Lord, thy days must end, 

So life and bliss and royal sway, 

Lost beyond hope, will pass away. 

Summon each lord of high estate, 

And chief, Vibhishan 490 to debate. 



490 "-pjjg y 0un g er brother of the giant Ravan; when he and his brother had 
practiced austerities for a long series of years, Brahma appeared to offer 



966 The Ramayana 

With peers in lore of counsel tried 

Consider, reason, and decide 

Scan strength and weakness, count the cost, 

What may be gained and what be lost. 

Examine and compare aright 

Thy proper power and Rama's might, 

Then if thy weal be still thy care, 

Thou wilt be prudent and forbear. 

O giant King, the contest shun, 

Thy force is all too weak 
The lord of Kosal's mighty son 

In deadly fray to seek. 
King of the hosts that rove at night, 

O hear what I advise: 
My prudent counsel do not slight; 

Be patient and be wise." 



Canto XXXVIII. Maricha's Speech. 



them boons: Vibhishana asked that he might never meditate any unrighteous- 
ness.... On the death of Ravan Vibhishana was installed as Raja of Lanka." 
GARRETTSJFNS Classical Dictionary of India. 



Canto XXXVIII. Maricha's Speech. 967 

"Once in my strength and vigour's pride 
I roamed this earth from side to side, 
And towering like a mountain's crest, 
A thousand Nagas' 491 might possessed. 
Like some vast sable cloud I showed: 
My golden armlets flashed and glowed. 
A crown I wore, an axe I swayed, 
And all I met were sore afraid. 
I roved where Dandak wood is spread; 
On flesh of slaughtered saints I fed. 
Then Visvamitra, sage revered, 
Holy of heart, my fury feared. 
To Dasaratha's court he sped 
And went before the king and said: 492 

"With me, my lord, thy Rama send 
On holy days his aid to lend. 
Maricha fills my soul with dread 
And keeps me sore disquieted." 

The monarch heard the saint's request 
And thus the glorious sage addressed: 

"My boy as yet in arms untrained 
The age of twelve has scarce attained. 
But I myself a host will lead 
To guard thee in the hour of need. 
My host with fourfold troops complete, 
The rover of the night shall meet, 
And I, O best of saints, will kill 
Thy foeman and thy prayer fulfil." 
The king vouchsafed his willing aid: 
The saint again this answer made: 

491 Serpent-gods. 

492 See p. 33. 



968 The Ramayana 

"By Rama's might, and his alone, 
Can this great fiend be overthrown. 
I know in days of yore the Blest 
Thy saving help in fight confessed. 
Still of thy famous deeds they tell 
In heaven above, in earth, and hell, 
A mighty host obeys thy hest: 
Here let it still, I pray thee, rest. 
Thy glorious son, though yet a boy, 
Will in the fight that fiend destroy. 
Rama alone with me shall go: 
Be happy, victor of the foe." 

He spoke: the monarch gave assent, 
And Rama to the hermit lent. 
So to his woodland home in joy 
Went Visvamitra with the boy. 
With ready bow the champion stood 
To guard the rites in Dandak wood. 
With glorious eyes, most bright to view, 
Beardless as yet and dark of hue; 
A single robe his only wear, 
[274] His temples veiled with waving hair, 

Around his neck a chain of gold, 
He grasped the bow he loved to hold; 
And the young hero's presence made 
A glory in the forest shade. 
Thus Rama with his beauteous mien, 
Like the young rising moon was seen, 
I, like a cloud which tempest brings, 
My arms adorned with golden rings, 
Proud of the boon which lent me might, 
Approached where dwelt the anchorite. 
But Rama saw me venturing nigh, 



Canto XXXVIII. Maricha's Speech. 969 

Raising my murderous axe on high; 

He saw, and fearless of the foe, 

Strung with calm hand his trusty bow. 

By pride of conscious strength beguiled, 

I scorned him as a feeble child, 

And rushed with an impetuous bound 

On Visvamitra's holy ground. 

A keen swift shaft he pointed well, 

The foeman's rage to check and quell, 

And hurled a hundred leagues away 

Deep in the ocean waves I lay. 

He would not kill, but, nobly brave, 

My forfeit life he chose to save. 

So there I lay with wandering sense 

Dazed by that arrow's violence. 

Long in the sea I lay: at length 

Slowly returned my sense and strength, 

And rising from my watery bed 

To Lanka's town again I sped. 

Thus was I spared, but all my band 

Fell slain by Rama's conquering hand, — 

A boy, untrained in warrior's skill, 

Of iron arm and dauntless will. 

If thou with Rama still, in spite 

Of warning and of prayer, wilt fight, 

I see terrific woes impend, 

And dire defeat thy days will end. 

Thy giants all will feel the blow 

And share the fatal overthrow, 

Who love the taste of joy and play, 

The banquet and the festal day. 

Thine eyes will see destruction take 

Thy Lanka, lost for Sita's sake, 

And stately pile and palace fall 



970 The Ramayana 

With terrace, dome, and jewelled wall. 
The good will die: the crime of kings 
Destruction on the people brings: 
The sinless die, as in the lake 
The fish must perish with the snake. 
The prostrate giants thou wilt see 
Slain for this folly wrought by thee, 
Their bodies bright with precious scent 
And sheen of heavenly ornament; 
Or see the remnant of thy train 
Seek refuge far, when help is vain 
And with their wives, or widowed, fly 
To every quarter of the sky; 
Thy mournful eyes, where'er they turn, 
Will see thy stately city burn, 
When royal homes with fire are red, 
And arrowy nets around are spread. 
A sin that tops all sins in shame 
Is outrage to another's dame, 
A thousand wives thy palace fill, 
And countless beauties wait thy will. 

rest contented with thine own, 
Nor let thy race be overthrown. 
If thou, O King, hast still delight 

In rank and wealth and power and might, 
In noble wives, in troops of friends, 
In all that royal state attends, 

1 warn thee, cast not all away, 
Nor challenge Rama to the fray. 
If deaf to every friendly prayer, 

Thou still wilt seek the strife, 
And from the side of Rama tear 

His lovely Maithil wife, 
Soon will thy life and empire end 



Canto XXXIX. Maricha's Speech. 97 1 

Destroyed by Rama's bow, 
And thou, with kith and kin and friend, 
To Yama's realm must go." 



Canto XXXIX. Maricha's Speech. 

"I told thee of that dreadful day 
When Rama smote and spared to slay. 
Now hear me, Ravan, while I tell 
What in the after time befell. 
At length, restored to strength and pride, 
I and two mighty fiends beside 
Assumed the forms of deer and strayed 
Through Dandak wood in lawn and glade, 
I reared terrific horns: beneath 
Were flaming tongue and pointed teeth. 
I roamed where'er my fancy led, 
And on the flesh of hermits fed, 
In sacred haunt, by hallowed tree, 
Where'er the ritual fires might be. 
A fearful shape, I wandered through 
The wood, and many a hermit slew. 
With ruthless rage the saints I killed 
Who in the grove their tasks fulfilled. 
When smitten to the earth they sank, 
Their flesh I ate, their blood I drank, 
And with my cruel deeds dismayed 
All dwellers in the forest shade, 
Spoiling their rites in bitter hate, 
With human blood inebriate. 
Once in the wood I chanced to see 



972 The Ramayana 

Rama again, a devotee, 
A hermit, fed on scanty fare, 
Who made the good of all his care. 
His noble wife was by his side, 
And Lakshman in the battle tried. 
In senseless pride I scorned the might 
Of that illustrious anchorite, 
And heedless of a hermit foe, 
[275] Recalled my earlier overthrow. 

I charged him in my rage and scorn 

To slay him with my pointed horn, 

In heedless haste, to fury wrought 

As on my former wounds I thought. 

Then from the mighty bow he drew 

Three foe-destroying arrows flew, 

Keen-pointed, leaping from the string, 

Swift as the wind or feathered king. 

Dire shafts, on flesh of foemen fed, 

Like rushing thunderbolts they sped, 

With knots well smoothed and barbs well bent, 

Shot e'en as one, the arrows went. 

But I who Rama's might had felt, 

And knew the blows the hero dealt, 

Escaped by rapid flight. The two 

Who lingered on the spot, he slew. 

I fled from mortal danger, freed 

From the dire shaft by timely speed. 

Now to deep thought my days I give, 

And as a humble hermit live. 

In every shrub, in every tree 

I view that noblest devotee. 

In every knotted trunk I mark 

His deerskin and his coat of bark, 

And see the bow- armed Rama stand 



Canto XXXIX. Maricha's Speech. 973 

Like Yama with his noose in hand. 

I tell thee Ravan, in my fright 

A thousand Ramas mock my sight, 

This wood with every bush and bough 

Seems all one fearful Rama now. 

Throughout the grove there is no spot 

So lonely where I see him not. 

He haunts me in my dreams by night, 

And wakes me with the wild affright. 

The letter that begins his name 

Sends terror through my startled frame. 

The rapid cars whereon we ride, 

The rich rare jewels, once my pride, 

Have names 493 that strike upon mine ear 

With hated sound that counsels fear. 

His mighty strength too well I know, 

Nor art thou match for such a foe. 

Too strong were Raghus's son in fight 

For Namuchi or Bali's might. 

Then Rama to the battle dare, 

Or else be patient and forbear; 

But, wouldst thou see me live in peace, 

Let mention of the hero cease. 

The good whose holy lives were spent 

In deepest thought, most innocent, 

With all their people many a time 

Have perished through another's crime. 

So in the common ruin, I 

Must for another's folly die, 

Do all thy strength and courage can, 

But ne'er will I approve the plan. 

For he, in might supremely great, 



493 The Sanskrit words for car and jewels begin with ra. 



974 The Ramayana 

The giant world could extirpate, 
Since, when impetuous Khara sought 
The grove of Janasthan and fought 
For Surpanakha's sake, he died 
By Rama's hand in battle tried. 
How has he wronged thee? Soothly swear, 
And Rama's fault and sin declare. 
I warn thee, and my words are wise, 

I seek thy people's weal: 
But if this rede thou wilt despise, 

Nor hear my last appeal, 
Thou with thy kin and all thy friends 

In fight this day wilt die, 
When his great bow the hero bends, 
And shafts unerring fly." 



Canto XL. Ravan's Speech. 



But Ravan scorned the rede he gave 
In timely words to warn and save, 
E'en as the wretch who hates to live 
Rejects the herb the leeches give. 
By fate to sin and ruin spurred, 
That sage advice the giant heard, 
Then in reproaches hard and stern 
Thus to Maricha spoke in turn: 



Canto XL. Ravan's Speech. 975 

"Is this thy counsel, weak and base, 
Unworthy of thy giant race? 
Thy speech is fruitless, vain, thy toil 
Like casting seed on barren soil. 
No words of thine shall drive me back 
From Rama and the swift attack. 
A fool is he, inured to sin, 
And more, of human origin. 
The craven, at a woman's call 
To leave his sire, his mother, all 
The friends he loved, the power and sway, 
And hasten to the woods away ! 
But now his anger will I rouse, 
Stealing away his darling spouse. 
I in thy sight will ravish her 
From Khara's cruel murderer. 
Upon this plan my soul is bent, 
And naught shall move my firm intent, 
Not if the way through demons led 
And Gods with Indra at their head. 
'Tis thine, when questioned, to explain 
The hope and fear, the loss and gain, 
And, when thy king thy thoughts would know, 
The triumph or the danger show. 
A prudent counsellor should wait, 
And speak when ordered in debate, 
With hands uplifted, calm and meek, 
If honour and reward he seek. 
Or, when some prudent course he sees 

Which, spoken, may his king displease [276] 

He should by hints of dexterous art 
His counsel to his lord impart. 
But prudent words are said in vain 
When the blunt speech brings grief and pain. 



976 The Ramayana 

A high-souled king will scarcely thank 
The man who shames his royal rank. 
Five are the shapes that kings assume, 
Of majesty, of grace, and gloom: 
Like Indra now, or Agni, now 
Like the dear Moon, with placid brow: 
Like mighty Varun now they show, 
Now fierce as He who rules below. 

giant, monarchs lofty-souled 
Are kind and gentle, stern and bold, 
With gracious love their gifts dispense 
And swiftly punish each offence. 
Thus subjects should their rulers view 
With all respect and honour due. 

But folly leads thy heart to slight 
Thy monarch and neglect his right. 
Thou hast in lawless pride addressed 
With bitter words thy royal guest. 

1 asked thee not my strength to scan, 
Or loss and profit in the plan. 

I only spoke to tell the deed 

O mighty one, by me decreed, 

And bid thee in the peril lend 

Thy succour to support thy friend. 

Hear me again, and I will tell 

How thou canst aid my venture well. 

In semblance of a golden deer 

Adorned with silver drops, appear: 

And near the cottage in the way 

Of Rama and his consort stray. 

Draw nigh, and wandering through the brake 

With thy strange form her fancy take. 

The Maithil dame with wondering eyes 

Will took upon thy fair disguise, 



Canto XL. Ravan's Speech. 977 

And quickly bid her husband go 
And bring the deer that charms her so, 
When Raghu's son has left the place, 
Still pressing onward in the chase, 
Cry out, "O Lakshman! Ah, mine own!" 
With voice resembling Rama's tone. 
When Lakshman hears his brother's cry, 
Impelled by Sita he will fly, 
Restless with eager love, to aid 
The hunter in the distant shade. 
When both her guards have left her side, 
Even as Indra, thousand-eyed, 
Clasps Sachi, will I bear away 
The Maithil dame an easy prey. 
When thou, my friend, this aid hast lent, 
Go where thou wilt and live content. 
True servant, faithful to thy vow, 
With half my realm I thee endow. 
Go forth, may luck thy way attend 
That leads thee to the happy end. 
I in my car will quickly be 
In Dandak wood, and follow thee. 
So will I cheat this Rama's eyes 
And win without a blow the prize; 
And safe return to Lanka's town 
With thee, my friend, this day shall crown. 
But if thou wilt not aid my will, 
My hand this day thy blood shall spill. 
Yea, thou must share the destined task, 
For force will take the help I ask. 
No bliss that rebel's life attends 
Whose stubborn will his lord offends. 
Thy life, if thou the task assay, 
In jeopardy may stand; 



978 The Ramayana 

Oppose me, and this very day 

Thou diest by this hand. 
Now ponder all that thou hast heard 

Within thy prudent breast: 
Reflect with care on every word, 

And do what seems the best." 



Canto XLI. Marfcha's Reply. 

Against his judgment sorely pressed 
By his imperious lord's behest, 
Maricha threats of death defied 
And thus with bitter words replied: 
"Ah, who, my King, with sinful thought 
This wild and wicked counsel taught, 
By which destruction soon will fall 
On thee, thy sons, thy realm and all? 
Who is the guilty wretch who sees 
With envious eye thy blissful ease, 
And by this plan, so falsely shown, 
Death's gate for thee has open thrown? 
With souls impelled by mean desire 
Thy foes against thy life conspire. 
They urge thee to destruction's brink, 
And gladly would they see thee sink. 
Who with base thought to work thee woe 
This fatal road has dared to show, 
And, triumph in his wicked eye, 
Would see thee enter in and die? 
To all thy counsellors, untrue, 
The punishment of death is due, 



Canto XLI. Marietta's Reply. 979 

Who see thee tempt the dangerous way, 

Nor strain each nerve thy foot to stay. 

Wise lords, whose king, by passion led, 

The path of sin begins to tread, 

Restrain him while there yet is time: 

But thine, — they see nor heed the crime. 

These by their master's will obtain 

Merit and fame and joy and gain. 

'Tis only by their master's grace 

That servants hold their lofty place. 

But when the monarch stoops to sin 

They lose each joy they strive to win, 

And all the people people high and low 

Fall in the common overthrow. [277] 

Merit and fame and honour spring, 

Best of the mighty, from the king. 

So all should strive with heart and will 

To keep the king from every ill. 

Pride, violence, and sullen hate 

Will ne'er maintain a monarch's state, 

And those who cruel deeds advise 

Must perish when their master dies, 

Like drivers with their cars o'erthrown 

In places rough with root and stone. 

The good whose holy lives were spent 

On duty's highest laws intent, 

With wives and children many a time 

Have perished for another's crime. 

Hapless are they whose sovereign lord, 

Opposed to all, by all abhorred, 

Is cruel-hearted, harsh, severe: 

Thus might a jackal tend the deer. 

Now all the giant race await, 

Destroyed by thee, a speedy fate, 



980 The Ramayana 

Ruled by a king so cruel-souled, 
Foolish in heart and uncontrolled. 
Think not I fear the sudden blow 
That threatens now to lay me low: 
I mourn the ruin that I see 
Impending o'er thy host and thee. 
Me first perchance will Rama kill, 
But soon his hand thy blood will spill. 
I die, and if by Rama slain 
And not by thee, I count it gain. 
Soon as the hero's face I see 
His angry eyes will murder me, 
And if on her thy hands thou lay 
Thy friends and thou are dead this day. 
If with my help thou still must dare 
The lady from her lord to tear, 
Farewell to all our days are o'er, 
Lanka and giants are no more. 

In vain, in vain, an earnest friend, 
I warn thee, King, and pray. 

Thou wilt not to my prayers attend, 
Or heed the words I say 

So men, when life is fleeting fast 
And death's sad hour is nigh, 

Heedless and blinded to the last 
Reject advice and die." 



Canto XLII. Maricha Transformed. 



Canto XLII. Maricha Transformed. 981 

Maricha thus in wild unrest 

With bitter words the king addressed. 

Then to his giant lord in dread, 

"Arise, and let us go," he said. 

"Ah, I have met that mighty lord 

Armed with his shafts and bow and sword, 

And if again that bow he bend 

Our lives that very hour will end. 

For none that warrior can provoke 

And think to fly his deadly stroke. 

Like Yama with his staff is he, 

And his dread hand will slaughter thee. 

What can I more? My words can find 

No passage to thy stubborn mind. 

I go, great King, thy task to share, 

And may success attend thee there." 

With that reply and bold consent 
The giant king was well content. 
He strained Maricha to his breast 
And thus with joyful words addressed: 
"There spoke a hero dauntless still, 
Obedient to his master's will, 
Marietta's proper self once more: 
Some other took thy shape before. 
Come, mount my jewelled car that flies. 
Will-governed, through the yielding skies. 
These asses, goblin-faced, shall bear 
Us quickly through the fields of air. 
Attract the lady with thy shape, 
Then through the wood, at will, escape. 
And I, when she has no defence, 
Will seize the dame and bear her thence." 



982 The Ramayana 

Again Maricha made reply, 
Consent and will to signify. 
With rapid speed the giants two 
From the calm hermit dwelling flew, 
Borne in that wondrous chariot, meet 
For some great God's celestial seat. 
They from their airy path looked down 
On many a wood and many a town, 
On lake and river, brook and rill, 
City and realm and towering hill. 
Soon he whom giant hosts obeyed, 
Maricha by his side, surveyed 
The dark expanse of Dandak wood 
Where Rama's hermit cottage stood. 
They left the flying car, whereon 
The wealth of gold and jewels shone, 
And thus the giant king addressed 
Maricha as his hand he pressed: 

"Maricha, look! before our eyes 
Round Rama's home the plantains rise. 
His hermitage is now in view: 
Quick to the work we came to do!" 

Thus Ravan spoke, Maricha heard 
Obedient to his master's word, 
Threw off his giant shape and near 
The cottage strayed a beauteous deer. 
With magic power, by rapid change, 
His borrowed form was fair and strange. 
A sapphire tipped each horn with light; 
His face was black relieved with white. 
The turkis and the ruby shed 
A glory from his ears and head. 



Canto XLII. Maricha Transformed. 983 

His arching neck was proudly raised, 

And lazulites beneath it blazed. 

With roseate bloom his flanks were dyed, 

And lotus tints adorned his hide. 

His shape was fair, compact, and slight; [278] 

His hoofs were carven lazulite. 

His tail with every changing glow 

Displayed the hues of Indra's bow. 

With glossy skin so strangely flecked, 

With tints of every gem bedecked. 

A light o'er Rama's home he sent, 

And through the wood, where'er he went. 

The giant clad in that strange dress 

That took the soul with loveliness, 

To charm the fair Videhan's eyes 

With mingled wealth of mineral dyes, 

Moved onward, cropping in his way, 

The grass and grain and tender spray. 

His coat with drops of silver bright, 

A form to gaze on with delight, 

He raised his fair neck as he went 

To browse on bud and filament. 

Now in the Cassia grove he strayed, 

Now by the cot in plantains' shade. 

Slowly and slowly on he came 

To catch the glances of the dame, 

And the tall deer of splendid hue 

Shone full at length in Sita's view. 

He roamed where'er his fancy chose 

Where Rama's leafy cottage rose. 

Now near, now far, in careless ease, 

He came and went among the trees. 

Now with light feet he turned to fly, 

Now, reassured, again drew nigh: 



984 The Ramayana 

Now gambolled close with leap and bound, 
Now lay upon the grassy ground: 
Now sought the door, devoid of fear, 
And mingled with the troop of deer; 
Led them a little way, and thence 
Again returned with confidence. 
Now flying far, now turning back 
Emboldened on his former track, 
Seeking to win the lady's glance 
He wandered through the green expanse. 
Then thronging round, the woodland deer 
Gazed on his form with wondering fear; 
A while they followed where he led, 
Then snuffed the tainted gale and fled. 
The giant, though he longed to slay 
The startled quarry, spared the prey, 
And mindful of the shape he wore 
To veil his nature, still forbore. 
Then Sita of the glorious eye, 
Returning from her task drew nigh; 
For she had sought the wood to bring 
Each loveliest flower of early spring. 
Now would the bright-eyed lady choose 
Some gorgeous bud with blending hues, 
Now plucked the mango's spray, and now 
The bloom from an Asoka bough. 
She with her beauteous form, unmeet 
For woodland life and lone retreat, 
That wondrous dappled deer beheld 
Gemmed with rich pearls, unparalleled, 
His silver hair the lady saw, 
His radiant teeth and lips and jaw, 
And gazed with rapture as her eyes 
Expanded in their glad surprise. 



Canto XLIII. The Wondrous Deer. 985 

And when the false deer's glances fell 
On her whom Rama loved so well, 
He wandered here and there, and cast 
A luminous beauty as he passed; 
And Janak's child with strange delight 
Kept gazing on the unwonted sight. 



Canto XLIII. The Wondrous Deer. 



She stooped, her hands with flowers to fill, 
But gazed upon the marvel still: 
Gazed on its back and sparkling side 
Where silver hues with golden vied. 
Joyous was she of faultless mould, 
With glossy skin like polished gold. 
And loudly to her husband cried 
And bow-armed Lakshman by his side: 
Again, again she called in glee: 
"O come this glorious creature see; 
Quick, quick, my lord, this deer to view. 
And bring thy brother Lakshman too." 
As through the wood her clear tones rang, 
Swift to her side the brothers sprang. 
With eager eyes the grove they scanned, 
And saw the deer before them stand. 
But doubt was strong in Lakshman's breast, 
Who thus his thought and fear expressed: 



986 The Ramayana 

"Stay, for the wondrous deer we see 
The fiend Maricha's self may be. 
Ere now have kings who sought this place 
To take their pastime in the chase, 
Met from his wicked art defeat, 
And fallen slain by like deceit. 
He wears, well trained in magic guile, 
The figure of a deer a while, 
Bright as the very sun, or place 
Where dwell the gay Gandharva race. 
No deer, O Rama, e'er was seen 
Thus decked with gold and jewels' sheen. 
'Tis magic, for the world has ne'er, 
Lord of the world, shown aught so fair." 

But Sita of the lovely smile, 
A captive to the giant's wile, 
Turned Lakshman's prudent speech aside 
And thus with eager words replied: 
"My honoured lord, this deer I see 
With beauty rare enraptures me. 
Go, chief of mighty arm, and bring 
For my delight this precious thing. 
Fair creatures of the woodland roam 
Untroubled near our hermit home. 
The forest cow and stag are there, 
The fawn, the monkey, and the bear, 
[279] Where spotted deer delight to play, 

And strong and beauteous Kinnars 494 stray. 
But never, as they wandered by, 
Has such a beauty charmed mine eye 
As this with limbs so fair and slight, 



A race of beings of human shape but with the heads of horses, like centaurs 
reversed. 



Canto XLIII. The Wondrous Deer. 987 

So gentle, beautiful and bright. 

O see, how fair it is to view 

With jewels of each varied hue: 

Bright as the rising moon it glows, 

Lighting the wood where'er it goes. 

Ah me, what form and grace are there ! 

Its limbs how fine, its hues how fair! 

Transcending all that words express, 

It takes my soul with loveliness. 

O, if thou would, to please me, strive 

To take the beauteous thing alive, 

How thou wouldst gaze with wondering eyes 

Delighted on the lovely prize ! 

And when our woodland life is o'er, 

And we enjoy our realm once more, 

The wondrous animal will grace 

The chambers of my dwelling-place, 

And a dear treasure will it be 

To Bharat and the queens and me, 

And all with rapture and amaze 

Upon its heavenly form will gaze. 

But if the beauteous deer, pursued, 

Thine arts to take it still elude, 

Strike it, O chieftain, and the skin 

Will be a treasure, laid within. 

O, how I long my time to pass 

Sitting upon the tender grass, 

With that soft fell beneath me spread 

Bright with its hair of golden thread! 

This strong desire, this eager will, 

Befits a gentle lady ill: 

But when I first beheld, its look 

My breast with fascination took. 

See, golden hair its flank adorns, 



988 The Ramayana 

And sapphires tip its branching horns. 
Resplendent as the lunar way, 
Or the first blush of opening day, 
With graceful form and radiant hue 
It charmed thy heart, O chieftain, too." 

He heard her speech with willing ear, 
He looked again upon the deer. 
Its lovely shape his breast beguiled 
Moved by the prayer of Janak's child, 
And yielding for her pleasure's sake, 
To Lakshman Rama turned and spake: 

"Mark, Lakshman, mark how Sita's breast 
With eager longing is possessed. 
To-day this deer of wondrous breed 
Must for his passing beauty bleed, 
Brighter than e'er in Nandan strayed, 
Or Chaitraratha's heavenly shade. 
How should the groves of earth possess 
Such all-surpassing loveliness! 
The hair lies smooth and bright and fine, 
Or waves upon each curving line, 
And drops of living gold bedeck 
The beauty of his side and neck. 
O look, his crimson tongue between 
His teeth like flaming fire is seen, 
Flashing, whene'er his lips he parts, 
As from a cloud the lightning darts. 
O see his sunlike forehead shine 
With emerald tints and almandine, 
While pearly light and roseate glow 
Of shells adorn his neck below. 
No eye on such a deer can rest 



Canto XLIII. The Wondrous Deer. 989 

But soft enchantment takes the breast: 
No man so fair a thing behold 
Ablaze with light of radiant gold, 
Celestial, bright with jewels' sheen, 
Nor marvel when his eyes have seen. 
A king equipped with bow and shaft 
Delights in gentle forest craft, 
And as in boundless woods he strays 
The quarry for the venison slays. 
There as he wanders with his train 
A store of wealth he oft may gain. 
He claims by right the precious ore, 
He claims the jewels' sparkling store. 
Such gains are dearer in his eyes 
Than wealth that in his chamber lies, 
The dearest things his spirit knows, 
Dear as the bliss which Sukra chose. 
But oft the rich expected gain 
Which heedless men pursue in vain, 
The sage, who prudent counsels know, 
Explain and in a moment show. 
This best of deer, this gem of all, 
To yield his precious spoils must fall, 
And tender SM by my side 
Shall sit upon the golden hide. 
Ne'er could I find so rich a coat 
On spotted deer or sheep or goat. 
No buck or antelope has such, 
So bright to view, so soft to touch. 
This radiant deer and one on high 
That moves in glory through the sky, 
Alike in heavenly beauty are, 
One on the earth and one a star. 
But, brother, if thy fears be true, 



990 The Ramayana 

And this bright creature that we view 
Be fierce Maricha in disguise, 
Then by this hand he surely dies. 
For that dire fiend who spurns control 
With bloody hand and cruel soul, 
Has roamed this forest and dismayed 
The holiest saints who haunt the shade. 
Great archers, sprung of royal race, 
Pursuing in the wood the chase, 
Have fallen by his wicked art, 
And now my shaft shall strike his heart. 
[280] Vatapi, by his magic power 

Made heedless saints his flesh devour, 
Then, from within their frames he rent 
Forth bursting from imprisonment. 
But once his art in senseless pride 
Upon the mightiest saint he tried, 
Agastya's self, and caused him taste 
The baited meal before him placed. 
Vatapi, when the rite was o'er, 
Would take the giant form he wore, 
But Saint Agastya knew his wile 
And checked the giant with smile. 
"Vatapi, thou with cruel spite 
Hast conquered many an anchorite 
The noblest of the Brahman caste, — 
And now thy ruin comes at last." 
Now if my power he thus defies, 
This giant, like Vatapi dies, 
Daring to scorn a man like me, 
A self subduing devotee. 
Yea, as Agastya slew the foe, 
My hand shall lay Maricha low 
Clad in thine arms thy bow in hand, 



Canto XLIV. Maricha's Death. 991 

To guard the Maithil lady stand, 
With watchful eye and thoughtful breast 
Keeping each word of my behest 
I go, and hunting through the brake 
This wondrous deer will bring or take. 
Yea surely I will bring the spoil 
Returning from my hunter's toil 
See, Lakshman how my consort's eyes 
Are longing for the lovely prize. 
This day it falls, that I may win 
The treasure of so fair a skin. 
Do thou and Sita watch with care 
Lest danger seize you unaware. 
Swift from my bow one shaft will fly; 
The stricken deer will fall and die 
Then quickly will I strip the game 
And bring the trophy to my dame. 

Jatayus, guardian good and wise, 
Our old and faithful friend, 

The best and strongest bird that flies, 
His willing aid will lend 

The Maithil lady well protect, 
For every chance provide, 

And in thy tender care suspect 
A foe on every side." 



Canto XLIV. Maricha's Death. 



992 The Ramayana 

Thus having warned his brother bold 
He grasped his sword with haft of gold, 
And bow with triple flexure bent, 
His own delight and ornament; 
Then bound two quivers to his side, 
And hurried forth with eager stride. 
Soon as the antlered monarch saw 
The lord of monarchs near him draw, 
A while with trembling heart he fled, 
Then turned and showed his stately head. 
With sword and bow the chief pursued 
Where'er the fleeing deer he viewed 
Sending from dell and lone recess 
The splendour of his loveliness. 
Now full in view the creature stood 
Now vanished in the depth of wood; 
Now running with a languid flight, 
Now like a meteor lost to sight. 
With trembling limbs away he sped; 
Then like the moon with clouds o'erspread 
Gleamed for a moment bright between 
The trees, and was again unseen. 
Thus in the magic deer's disguise 
Maricha lured him to the prize, 
And seen a while, then lost to view, 
Far from his cot the hero drew. 
Still by the flying game deceived 
The hunter's heart was wroth and grieved, 
And wearied with the fruitless chase 
He stayed him in a shady place. 
Again the rover of the night 
Enraged the chieftain, full in sight, 
Slow moving in the coppice near, 
Surrounded by the woodland deer. 



Canto XLIV. Maricha's Death. 993 

Again the hunter sought the game 
That seemed a while to court his aim: 
But seized again with sudden dread, 
Beyond his sight the creature fled. 
Again the hero left the shade, 
Again the deer before him strayed. 
With surer hope and stronger will 
The hunter longed his prey to kill. 
Then as his soul impatient grew, 
An arrow from his side he drew, 
Resplendent at the sunbeam's glow, 
The crusher of the smitten foe. 
With skillful heed the mighty lord 
Fixed well shaft and strained the cord. 
Upon the deer his eyes he bent, 
And like a fiery serpent went 
The arrow Brahma's self had framed, 
Alive with sparks that hissed and flamed, 
Like Indra's flashing levin, true 
To the false deer the missile flew 
Cleaving his flesh that wonderous dart 
Stood quivering in Maricha's heart. 
Scarce from the ground one foot he sprang, 
Then stricken fell with deadly pang. 
Half lifeless, as he pressed the ground, 
He gave a roar of awful sound 
And ere the wounded giant died 
He threw his borrowed form aside 
Remembering still his lord's behest 
He pondered in his heart how best 
Sita might send her guard away, 
And Ravan seize the helpless prey. 
The monster knew the time was nigh, 
And called aloud with eager cry, 



994 The Ramayana 

[281] "Ho, SM, Lakshman" and the tone 

He borrowed was like Rama's own. 



So by that matchless arrow cleft, 
The deer's bright form Maricha left, 
Resumed his giant shape and size 
And closed in death his languid eyes. 
When Rama saw his awful foe 
Gasp, smeared with blood, in deadly throe, 
His anxious thoughts to SM sped, 
And the wise words that Lakshman said, 
That this was false Maricha's art, 
Returned again upon his heart. 
He knew the foe he triumphed o'er 
The name of great Maricha bore. 
"The fiend," he pondered, 'ere he died, 
"Ho, Lakshman! ho, my SM!" cried 
Ah, if that cry has reached her ear, 
How dire must be my darling's fear! 
And Lakshman of the mighty arm, 
What thinks he in his wild alarm? 
As thus he thought in sad surmise, 
Each startled hair began to rise, 
And when he saw the giant slain 
And thought upon that cry again, 
His spirit sank and terror pressed 
Full sorely on the hero's breast. 
Another deer he chased and struck, 
He bore away the the fallen buck, 
To Janasthan then turned his face 
And hastened to his dwelling place. 



Canto XLV. Lakshman's Departure. 995 

Canto XLV. Lakshman's Departure. 

But Sita hearing as she thought, 
Her husband's cry with anguish fraught, 
Called to her guardian, "Lakshman, run 
And in the wood seek Raghu's son. 
Scarce can my heart retain its throne, 
Scarce can my life be called mine own, 
As all my powers and senses fail 
At that long, loud and bitter wail. 
Haste to the wood with all thy speed 
And save thy brother in his need. 
Go, save him in the distant glade 
Where loud he calls, for timely aid. 
He falls beneath some giant foe — 
A bull whom lions overthrow." 

Deaf to her prayer, no step he stirred 
Obedient to his mother's word, 
Then Janak's child, with ire inflamed, 
In words of bitter scorn exclaimed exclaimed 

"Sumitra's son, a friend in show, 
Thou art in truth thy brother's foe, 
Who canst at such any hour deny 
Thy succour and neglect his cry. 
Yes, Lakshman, smit with love of me 
Thy brother's death thou fain wouldst see. 
This guilty love thy heart has swayed 
And makes thy feet so loth to aid. 
Thou hast no love for Rama, no: 
Thy joy is vice, thy thoughts are low 
Hence thus unmoved thou yet canst stay 
While my dear lord is far away. 



996 The Ramayana 

If aught of ill my lord betide 
Who led thee here, thy chief and guide, 
Ah, what will be my hapless fate 
Left in the wild wood desolate!" 

Thus spoke the lady sad with fear, 
With many a sigh and many a tear, 
Still trembling like a captured doe: 
And Lakshman spoke to calm her woe: 

"Videhan Queen, be sure of this, — 
And at the thought thy fear dismiss, — 
Thy husband's mightier power defies 
All Gods and angels of the skies, 
Gandharvas, and the sons of light, 
Serpents, and rovers of the night. 
I tell thee, of the sons of earth, 
Of Gods who boast celestial birth, 
Of beasts and birds and giant hosts, 
Of demigods, Gandharvas, ghosts, 
Of awful fiends, O thou most fair, 
There lives not one whose heart would dare 
To meet thy Rama in the fight, 
Like Indra's self unmatched in might. 
Such idle words thou must not say 
Thy Rama lives whom none may slay. 
I will not, cannot leave thee here 
In the wild wood till he be near. 
The mightiest strength can ne'er withstand 
His eager force, his vigorous hand. 
No, not the triple world allied 
With all the immortal Gods beside. 
Dismiss thy fear, again take heart, 
Let all thy doubt and woe depart. 



Canto XLV. Lakshman's Departure. 997 

Thy lord, be sure, will soon be here 
And bring thee back that best of deer. 
Not his, not his that mournful cry, 
Nor haply came it from the sky. 
Some giant's art was busy there 
And framed a castle based on air. 
A precious pledge art thou, consigned 
To me by him of noblest mind, 
Nor can I fairest dame, forsake 
The pledge which Rama bade me take. 
Upon our heads, O Queen, we drew 
The giants' hate when Rama slew 
Their chieftain Khara, and the shade 
Of Janasthan in ruin laid. 
Through all this mighty wood they rove 
With varied cries from grove to grove 
On rapine bent they wander here: 
But O, dismiss thy causeless fear." 

Bright flashed her eye as Lakshman spoke 
And forth her words of fury broke 
Upon her truthful guardian, flung 
With bitter taunts that pierced and stung: 
"Shame on such false compassion, base 
Defiler of thy glorious race! 

'Twere joyous sight I ween to thee [282] 

My lord in direst strait to see. 
Thou knowest Rama sore bested, 
Or word like this thou ne'er hadst said. 
No marvel if we find such sin 
In rivals false to kith and kin. 
Wretches like thee of evil kind, 
Concealing crime with crafty mind. 
Thou, wretch, thine aid wilt still deny, 



998 The Ramayana 

And leave my lord alone to die. 
Has love of me unnerved thy hand, 
Or Bharat's art this ruin planned? 
But be the treachery his or thine, 
In vain, in vain the base design. 
For how shall I, the chosen bride 
Of dark-hued Rama, lotus-eyed, 
The queen who once called Rama mine, 
To love of other men decline? 
Believe me, Lakshman, Rama's wife 
Before thine eyes will quit this life, 
And not a moment will she stay 
If her dear lord have passed away." 

The lady's bitter speech, that stirred 
Each hair upon his frame, he heard. 
With lifted hands together laid, 
His calm reply he gently made: 

"No words have I to answer now: 
My deity, O Queen, art thou. 
But 'tis no marvel, dame, to find 
Such lack of sense in womankind. 
Throughout this world, O Maithil dame, 
Weak women's hearts are still the same. 
Inconstant, urged by envious spite, 
They sever friends and hate the right. 
I cannot brook, Videhan Queen, 
Thy words intolerably keen. 
Mine ears thy fierce reproaches pain 
As boiling water seethes the brain. 
And now to bear me witness all 
The dwellers in the wood I call, 
That, when with words of truth I plead, 



Canto XLV. Lakshman's Departure. 999 

This harsh reply is all my meed. 
Ah, woe is thee! Ah, grief, that still 
Eager to do my brother's will, 
Mourning thy woman's nature, I 
Must see thee doubt my truth and die. 
I fly to Rama's side, and Oh, 
May bliss attend thee while I go ! 
May all attendant wood-gods screen 
Thy head from harm, O large-eyed Queen! 
And though dire omens meet my sight 
And fill my soul with wild affright, 
May I return in peace and see 
The son of Raghu safe with thee!" 

The child of Janak heard him speak, 
And the hot tear-drops down her cheek, 
Increasing to a torrent, ran, 
As thus once more the dame began: 
"O Lakshman, if I widowed be 
Godavari's flood shall cover me, 
Or I will die by cord, or leap, 
Life weary, from yon rocky steep; 
Or deadly poison will I drink, 
Or 'neath the kindled flames will sink, 
But never, reft of Rama, can 
Consent to touch a meaner man." 

The Maithil dame with many sighs, 
And torrents pouring from her eyes, 
The faithful Lakshman thus addressed, 
And smote her hands upon her breast. 

>Sumitra's son, o'erwhelmed by fears, 
Looked on the large-eyed queen: 

He saw that flood of burning tears, 



1000 The Ramayana 

He saw that piteous mien. 
He yearned sweet comfort to afford, 

He strove to soothe her pain; 
But to the brother of her lord 

She spoke no word again. 
His reverent hands once more he raised, 

His head he slightly bent, 
Upon her face he sadly gazed, 

And then toward Rama went. 



Canto XLVI. The Guest. 



The angry Lakshman scarce could brook 
Her bitter words, her furious look. 
With dark forebodings in his breast 
To Rama's side he quickly pressed. 

Then ten necked Ravan saw the time 
Propitious for his purposed crime. 
A mendicant in guise he came 
And stood before the Maithil dame. 
His garb was red, with tufted hair 
And sandalled feet a shade he bare, 
And from the fiend's left shoulder slung 
A staff and water-vessel hung. 
Near to the lovely dame he drew, 
While both the chiefs were far from view, 
As darkness takes the evening air 
When neither sun nor moon is there. 
He bent his eye upon the dame, 
A princess fair, of spotless fame: 



Canto XLVI. The Guest. 1001 

So might some baleful planet be 

Near Moon-forsaken Rohini. 495 

As the fierce tyrant nearer drew, 

The trees in Janasthan that grew 

Waved not a leaf for fear and woe, 

And the hushed wind forbore to blow. 

Godavari's waters as they fled, 

Saw his fierce eye-balls flashing red, 

And from each swiftly-gliding wave 

A melancholy murmur gave. 

Then Ravan, when his eager eye 

Beheld the longed-for moment nigh, 

In mendicant's apparel dressed 

Near to the Maithil lady pressed. [283] 

In holy guise, a fiend abhorred, 

He found her mourning for her lord. 

Thus threatening draws Sanischar 496 nigh 

To Chitra 497 in the evening sky; 

Thus the deep well by grass concealed 

Yawns treacherous in the verdant field. 

He stood and looked upon the dame 

Of Rama, queen of spotless fame 

With her bright teeth and each fair limb 

Like the full moon she seemed to him, 

Sitting within her leafy cot, 

Weeping for woe that left her not. 

Thus, while with joy his pulses beat, 

He saw her in her lone retreat, 

Eyed like the lotus, fair to view 

In silken robes of amber hue. 

Pierced to the core by Kama's dart 



496 The planet Saturn. 



497 Another favourite of the Moon; one of the lunar mansions. 



1002 The Ramayana 

He murmured texts with lying art, 
And questioned with a soft address 
The lady in her loneliness. 
The fiend essayed with gentle speech 
The heart of that fair dame to reach, 
Pride of the worlds, like Beauty's Queen 
Without her darling lotus seen: 

"O thou whose silken robes enfold 
A form more fair than finest gold, 
With lotus garland on thy head, 
Like a sweet spring with bloom o'erspread, 
Who art thou, fair one, what thy name, 
Beauty, or Honour, Fortune, Fame, 
Spirit, or nymph, or Queen of love 
Descended from thy home above? 
Bright as the dazzling jasmine shine 
Thy small square teeth in level line. 
Like two black stars aglow with light 
Thine eyes are large and pure and bright. 
Thy charms of smile and teeth and hair 
And winning eyes, O thou most fair, 
Steal all my spirit, as the flow 
Of rivers mines the bank below. 
How bright, how fine each flowing tress ! 
How firm those orbs beneath thy dress ! 
That dainty waist with ease were spanned, 
Sweet lady, by a lover's hand. 
Mine eyes, O beauty, ne'er have seen 
Goddess or nymph so fair of mien, 
Or bright Gandharva's heavenly dame, 
Or woman of so perfect frame. 
In youth's soft prime thy years are few, 
And earth has naught so fair to view. 



Canto XLVI. The Guest. 1003 

I marvel one like thee in face 

Should make the woods her dwelling-place. 

Leave, lady, leave this lone retreat 

In forest wilds for thee unmeet, 

Where giants fierce and strong assume 

All shapes and wander in the gloom. 

These dainty feet were formed to tread 

Some palace floor with carpets spread, 

Or wander in trim gardens where 

Each opening bud perfumes the air. 

The richest robe thy form should deck, 

The rarest gems adorn thy neck, 

The sweetest wreath should bind thy hair, 

The noblest lord thy bed should share. 

Art thou akin, O fair of form, 

To Rudras, 498 or the Gods of storm, 499 

Or to the glorious Vasus 500 ? How 

Can less than these be bright as thou? 

But never nymph or heavenly maid 

Or Goddess haunts this gloomy shade. 

Here giants roam, a savage race; 

What led thee to so dire a place? 

Here monkeys leap from tree to tree, 

And bears and tigers wander free; 

Here ravening lions prowl, and fell 

Hyenas in the thickets yell, 

And elephants infuriate roam, 

Mighty and fierce, their woodland home. 

Dost thou not dread, so soft and fair, 

Tiger and lion, wolf and bear? 



498 The Rudras, agents in creation, are eight in number; they sprang from the 
forehead of Brahma. 

499 - 

500 Radiant demi-gods. 



1004 The Ramayana 

Hast thou, O beauteous dame, no fear 
In the wild wood so lone and drear? 
Whose and who art thou? whence and why 
Sweet lady, with no guardian nigh, 
Dost thou this awful forest tread 
By giant bands inhabited?" 



The praise the high-souled Ravan spoke 
No doubt within her bosom woke. 
His saintly look and Brahman guise 
Deceived the lady's trusting eyes. 
With due attention on the guest 
Her hospitable rites she pressed. 
She bade the stranger to a seat, 
And gave him water for his feet. 
The bowl and water-pot he bare, 
And garb which wandering Brahmans wear 

Forbade a doubt to rise. 
Won by his holy look she deemed 
The stranger even as he seemed 

To her deluded eyes. 
Intent on hospitable care, 
She brought her best of woodland fare, 

And showed her guest a seat. 
She bade the saintly stranger lave 
His feet in water which she gave, 

And sit and rest and eat. 
He kept his eager glances bent 
On her so kindly eloquent, 
Wife of the noblest king; 
And longed in heart to steal her thence, 
Preparing by the dire offence, 
[284] Death on his head to bring. 



Canto XLVII. Ravan's Wooing. 1005 

The lady watched with anxious face 
For Rama coming from the chase 

With Lakshman by his side: 
But nothing met her wandering glance 
Save the wild forest's green expanse 

Extending far and wide. 



Canto XLVII. Ravan's Wooing. 

As, clad in mendicant's disguise, 

He questioned thus his destined prize, 

She to the seeming saintly man 

The story of her life began. 

"My guest is he," she thought, "and I, 

To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:" 

"Child of a noble sire I spring 

From Janak, fair Videha's king. 

May every good be thine! my name 

Is Sita, Rama's cherished dame. 

Twelve winters with my lord I spent 

Most happily with sweet content 

In the rich home of Raghu's line, 

And every earthly joy was mine. 

Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then 

His peers advised the king of men, 

Rama, my lord, to consecrate 

Joint ruler of his ancient state. 

But when the rites were scarce begun, 

To consecrate Ikshvaku's son, 

The queen Kaikeyi, honoured dame, 

Sought of her lord an ancient claim. 



1006 The Ramayana 

Her plea of former service pressed, 
And made him grant her new request, 
To banish Rama to the wild 
And consecrate instead her child. 
This double prayer on him, the best 
And truest king, she strongly pressed: 
"Mine eyes in sleep I will not close, 
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose. 
This very day my death shall bring 
If Rama be anointed king." 
As thus she spake in envious ire, 
The aged king, my husband's sire, 
Besought with fitting words; but she 
Was cold and deaf to every plea. 
As yet my days are few; eighteen 
The years of life that I have seen; 
And Rama, best of all alive, 
Has passed of years a score and five — 
Rama the great and gentle, through 
All region famed as pure and true, 
Large-eyed and mighty- armed and tall, 
With tender heart that cares for all. 
But Dasaratha, led astray 
By woman's wile and passion's sway, 
By his strong love of her impelled, 
The consecrating rites withheld. 
When, hopeful of the promised grace, 
My Rama sought his father's face, 
The queen Kaikeyi, ill at ease, 
Spoke to my lord brief words like these: 
"Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me 
The words thy father says to thee: 
"I yield this day to Bharat's hand, 
Free from all foes, this ancient land. 



Canto XLVII. Ravan's Wooing. 1007 

Fly from this home no longer thine, 
And dwell in woods five years and nine. 
Live in the forest and maintain 
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.' " 
Then Rama spoke, untouched by dread: 
"Yea, it shall be as thou hast said." 
And answered, faithful to his vows, 
Obeying Dasaratha's spouse: 
"The offered realm I would not take, 
But still keep true the words he spake." 
Thus, gentle Brahman, Rama still 
Clung to his vow with firmest will. 
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame, 
His brother by a younger dame, 
Bold victor in the deadly fray, 
Would follow Rama on his way. 
On sternest vows his heart was set, 
And he, a youthful anchoret, 
Bound up in twisted coil his hair 
And took the garb which hermits wear; 
Then with his bow to guard us, he 
Went forth with Rama and with me. 
By Queen Kaikeyi's art bereft 
The kingdom and our home we left, 
And bound by stern religious vows 
We sought this shade of forest boughs. 
Now, best of Brahmans, here we tread 
These pathless regions dark and dread. 
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest 
Here for a while an honoured guest, 
For he, my lord, will soon be here 
With fresh supply of woodland cheer, 
Large store of venison of the buck, 
Or some great boar his hand has struck. 



1008 The Ramayana 

Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer: 
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare, 
And why with no companion thou 
Roamest in Dandak forest now." 



Thus questioned Sita, Rama's dame. 
Then fierce the stranger's answer came: 
"Lord of the giant legions, he 
From whom celestial armies flee, — 
The dread of hell and earth and sky, 
Ravan the Rakshas king am I. 
Now when thy gold-like form I view 
Arrayed in silks of amber hue, 
My love, O thou of perfect mould, 
For all my dames is dead and cold. 
A thousand fairest women, torn 
From many a land my home adorn. 
But come, loveliest lady, be 
The queen of every dame and me. 
My city Lanka, glorious town, 
[285] Looks from a mountain's forehead down 

Where ocean with his flash and foam 
Beats madly on mine island home. 
With me, O Sita, shalt thou rove 
Delighted through each shady grove, 
Nor shall thy happy breast retain 
Fond memory of this life of pain. 
In gay attire, a glittering band, 
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand, 
And serve thee at thy beck and sign, 
If thou, fair Sita, wilt be mine." 



Canto XLVII. Ravan's Wooing. 1009 

Then forth her noble passion broke 
As thus in turn the lady spoke: 
"Me, me the wife of Rama, him 
The lion lord with lion's limb, 
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock, 
Like Indra in the battle shock. 
The lord of each auspicious sign, 
The glory of his princely line, 
Like some fair Bodh tree strong and tall, 
The noblest and the best of all, 
Rama, the heir of happy fate 
Who keeps his word inviolate, 
Lord of the lion gait, possessed 
Of mighty arm and ample chest, 
Rama the lion-warrior, him 
Whose moon bright face no fear can dim, 
Rama, his bridled passions' lord, 
The darling whom his sire adored, — 
Me, me the true and loving dame 
Of Rama, prince of deathless fame — 
Me wouldst thou vainly woo and press? 
A jackal woo a lioness! 
Steal from the sun his glory! such 
Thy hope Lord Rama's wife to touch. 
Ha! Thou hast seen the trees of gold, 
The sign which dying eyes behold, 
Thus seeking, weary of thy life, 
To win the love of Rama's wife. 
Fool ! wilt thou dare to rend away 
The famished lion's bleeding prey, 
Or from the threatening jaws to take 
The fang of some envenomed snake? 
What, wouldst thou shake with puny hand 



1010 The Ramayana 

Mount Mandar, 501 towering o'er the land, 
Put poison to thy lips and think 
The deadly cup a harmless drink? 
With pointed needle touch thine eye, 
A razor to thy tongue apply, 
Who wouldst pollute with impious touch 
The wife whom Rama loves so much? 
Be round thy neck a millstone tied, 
And swim the sea from side to side; 
Or raising both thy hands on high 
Pluck sun and moon from yonder sky; 
Or let the kindled flame be pressed, 
Wrapt in thy garment, to thy breast; 
More wild the thought that seeks to win 
Rama's dear wife who knows not sin. 
The fool who thinks with idle aim 
To gain the love of Rama's dame, 
With dark and desperate footing makes 
His way o'er points of iron stakes. 
As Ocean to a bubbling spring, 
The lion to a fox, the king 
Of all the birds that ply the wing 

To an ignoble crow 
As gold to lead of little price, 
As to the drainings of the rice 
The drink they quaff in Paradise, 

The Amrit's heavenly flow, 
As sandal dust with perfume sweet 
Is to the mire that soils our feet, 

A tiger to a cat, 
As the white swan is to the owl, 
The peacock to the waterfowl, 



501 The mountain which was used by the Gods as a churning stick at the 
Churning of the Ocean. 



Canto XLVIII. Ravan's Speech. 101 1 

An eagle to a bat, 
Such is my lord compared with thee; 
And when with bow and arrows he, 
Mighty as Indra's self shall see 

His foeman, armed to slay, 
Thou, death-doomed like the fly that sips 
The oil that on the altar drips, 
Shalt cast the morsel from thy lips 

And lose thy half-won prey." 
Thus in high scorn the lady flung 
The biting arrows of her tongue 
In bitter words that pierced and stung 

The rover of the night. 
She ceased. Her gentle cheek grew pale, 
Her loosened limbs began to fail, 
And like a plantain in the gale 

She trembled with affright. 
He terrible as Death stood nigh, 
And watched with fierce exulting eye 

The fear that shook her frame. 
To terrify the lady more, 
He counted all his triumphs o'er, 
Proclaimed the titles that he bore, 

His pedigree and name. 



Canto XLVIII. Ravan's Speech. 

With knitted brow and furious eye 
The stranger made his fierce reply: 
"In me O fairest dame, behold 
The brother of the King of Gold. 



1012 The Ramayana 

The Lord of Ten Necks my title, named 
Ravan, for might and valour famed. 
Gods and Gandharva hosts I scare; 
Snakes, spirits, birds that roam the air 
Fly from my coming, wild with fear, 
Trembling like men when Death is near. 
Vaisravan once, my brother, wrought 
[286] To ire, encountered me and fought, 

But yielding to superior might 
Fled from his home in sore affright. 
Lord of the man-drawn chariot, still 
He dwells on famed Kailasa's hill. 
I made the vanquished king resign 
The glorious car which now is mine, — 
Pushpak, the far-renowned, that flies 
Will-guided through the buxom skies. 
Celestial hosts by Indra led 
Flee from my face disquieted, 
And where my dreaded feet appear 
The wind is hushed or breathless is fear. 
Where'er I stand, where'er I go 
The troubled waters cease to flow, 
Each spell-bound wave is mute and still 
And the fierce sun himself is chill. 
Beyond the sea my Lanka stands 
Filled with fierce forms and giant bands, 
A glorious city fair to see 
As Indra's Amaravati. 
A towering height of solid wall, 
Flashing afar, surrounds it all, 
Its golden courts enchant the sight, 
And gates aglow with lazulite. 
Steeds, elephants, and cars are there, 
And drums' loud music fills the air, 



Canto XLVIII. Ravan's Speech. 1013 

Fair trees in lovely gardens grow 

Whose boughs with varied fruitage glow. 

Thou, beauteous Queen, with me shalt dwell 

In halls that suit a princess well, 

Thy former fellows shall forget 

Nor think of women with regret, 

No earthly joy thy soul shall miss, 

And take its fill of heavenly bliss. 

Of mortal Rama think no more, 

Whose terms of days will soon be o'er. 

King Dasaratha looked in scorn 

On Rama though the eldest born, 

Sent to the woods the weakling fool, 

And set his darling son to rule. 

What, O thou large-eyed dame, hast thou 

To do with fallen Rama now, 

From home and kingdom forced to fly, 

A wretched hermit soon to die? 

Accept thy lover, nor refuse 

The giant king who fondly woos. 

O listen, nor reject in scorn 

A heart by Kama's arrows torn. 

If thou refuse to hear my prayer, 

Of grief and coming woe beware; 

For the sad fate will fall on thee 

Which came on hapless Urvasi, 

When with her foot she chanced to touch 

Pururavas, and sorrowed much. 502 . 

My little finger raised in fight 

Were more than match for Rama's might. 

O fairest, blithe and happy be 

With him whom fortune sends to thee." 



502 The story will be found in GARRETT'S{FNS Classical Dictionary. See 
ADDITIONAL NOTESJFNS 



1014 The Ramayana 

Such were the words the giant said, 
And Sita's angry eyes were red. 
She answered in that lonely place 
The monarch of the giant race: 



"Art thou the brother of the Lord 
Of Gold by all the world adored, 
And sprung of that illustrious seed 
Wouldst now attempt this evil deed? 
I tell thee, impious Monarch, all 
The giants by thy sin will fall, 
Whose reckless lord and king thou art, 
With foolish mind and lawless heart. 
Yea, one may hope to steal the wife 
Of Indra and escape with life. 
But he who Rama's dame would tear 
From his loved side must needs despair. 
Yea, one may steal fair Sachi, dame 
Of Him who shoots the thunder flame, 
May live successful in his aim 

And length of day may see; 
But hope, O giant King, in vain, 
Though cups of Amrit thou may drain, 
To shun the penalty and pain 

Of wronging one like me." 



Canto XLIX. The Rape Of Sita. 



Canto XLIX. The Rape Of SM. 1015 

The Rakshas monarch, thus addressed, 
His hands a while together pressed, 
And straight before her startled eyes 
Stood monstrous in his giant size. 
Then to the lady, with the lore 
Of eloquence, he spoke once more: 
"Thou scarce," he cried, "hast heard aright 
The glories of my power and might. 
I borne sublime in air can stand 
And with these arms upheave the land, 
Drink the deep flood of Ocean dry 
And Death with conquering force defy, 
Pierce the great sun with furious dart 
And to her depths cleave earth apart. 
See, thou whom love and beauty blind, 
I wear each form as wills my mind." 

As thus he spake in burning ire 
His glowing eyes were red with fire. 
His gentle garb aside was thrown 
And all his native shape was shown. 
Terrific, monstrous, wild, and dread 
As the dark God who rules the dead, 
His fiery eyes in fury rolled, 
His limbs were decked with glittering gold. 
Like some dark cloud the monster showed, 
And his fierce breast with fury glowed. 
The ten-faced rover of the night, 
With twenty arms exposed to sight, 
His saintly guise aside had laid 

And all his giant height displayed. [287] 

Attired in robes of crimson dye 
He stood and watched with angry eye 
The lady in her bright array 



1016 The Ramayana 

Resplendent as the dawn of day 
When from the east the sunbeams break, 
And to the dark-haired lady spake: 
"If thou would call that lord thine own 
Whose fame in every world is known, 
Look kindly on my love, and be 
Bride of a consort meet for thee. 
With me let blissful years be spent, 
For ne'er thy choice shalt thou repent. 
No deed of mine shall e'er displease 
My darling as she lives at ease. 
Thy love for mortal man resign, 
And to a worthier lord incline. 
Ah foolish lady, seeming wise 
In thine own weak and partial eyes, 
By what fair graces art thou held 
To Rama from his realm expelled? 
Misfortunes all his life attend, 
And his brief days are near their end. 
Unworthy prince, infirm of mind! 
A woman spoke and he resigned 
His home and kingdom and withdrew 
From troops of friends and retinue. 
And sought this forest dark and dread 
By savage beasts inhabited." 

Thus Ravan urged the lady meet 
For love, whose words were soft and sweet. 
Near and more near the giant pressed 
As love's hot fire inflamed his breast. 
The leader of the giant crew 
His arm around the lady threw: 
Thus Budha 503 with ill-omened might 



503 Mercury: to be carefully distinguished from Buddha. 



Canto XLIX. The Rape Of Sita. 1017 

Steals Rohinfs delicious light. 

One hand her glorious tresses grasped, 

One with its ruthless pressure clasped 

The body of his lovely prize, 

The Maithil dame with lotus eyes. 

The silvan Gods in wild alarm 

Marked his huge teeth and ponderous arm, 

And from that Death-like presence fled, 

Of mountain size and towering head. 

Then seen was Ravan's magic car 

Aglow with gold which blazed afar, — 

The mighty car which asses drew 

Thundering as it onward flew. 

He spared not harsh rebuke to chide 

The lady as she moaned and cried, 

Then with his arm about her waist 

His captive in the car he placed. 

In vain he threatened: long and shrill 

Rang out her lamentation still, 

O Rama! which no fear could stay: 

But her dear lord was far away. 

Then rose the fiend, and toward the skies 

Bore his poor helpless struggling prize: 

Hurrying through the air above 

The dame who loathed his proffered love. 

So might a soaring eagle bear 

A serpent's consort through the air. 

As on he bore her through the sky 

She shrieked aloud her bitter cry. 

As when some wretch's lips complain 

In agony of maddening pain; 

"O Lakshman, thou whose joy is still 

To do thine elder brother's will, 

This fiend, who all disguises wears, 



1018 The Ramayana 

From Rama's side his darling tears. 

Thou who couldst leave bliss, fortune, all, 

Yea life itself at duty's call, 

Dost thou not see this outrage done 

To hapless me, O Raghu's son? 

'Tis thine, O victor of the foe, 

To bring the haughtiest spirit low, 

How canst thou such an outrage see 

And let the guilty fiend go free? 

Ah, seldom in a moment's time 

Comes bitter fruit of sin and crime, 

But in the day of harvest pain 

Comes like the ripening of the grain. 

So thou whom fate and folly lead 

To ruin for this guilty deed, 

Shalt die by Rama's arm ere long 

A dreadful death for hideous wrong. 

Ah, too successful in their ends 

Are Queen Kaikeyi and her friends, 

When virtuous Rama, dear to fame, 

Is mourning for his ravished dame. 

Ah me, ah me! a long farewell 

To lawn and glade and forest dell 

In Janasthan's wild region, where 

The Cassia trees are bright and fair 

With all your tongues to Rama say 

That Ravan bears his wife away. 

Farewell, a long farewell to thee, 

O pleasant stream Godavari, 

Whose rippling waves are ever stirred 

By many a glad wild water-bird! 

All ye to Rama's ear relate 

The giant's deed and Sita's fate. 

O all ye Gods who love this ground 



Canto XLIX. The Rape Of Sita. 1019 

Where trees of every leaf abound, 

Tell Rama I am stolen hence, 

I pray you all with reverence. 

On all the living things beside 

That these dark boughs and coverts hide, 

Ye flocks of birds, ye troops of deer, 

I call on you my prayer to hear. 

All ye to Rama's ear proclaim 

That Ravan tears away his dame 

With forceful arms, — his darling wife, 

Dearer to Rama than his life. 

O, if he knew I dwelt in hell, 

My mighty lord, I know full well, 

Would bring me, conqueror, back to-day, 

Though Yama's self reclaimed his prey." 

Thus from the air the lady sent [288] 

With piteous voice her last lament, 
And as she wept she chanced to see 
The vulture on a lofty tree. 
As Ravan bore her swiftly by, 
On the dear bird she bent her eye, 
And with a voice which woe made faint 
Renewed to him her wild complaint: 

"O see, the king who rules the race 
Of giants, cruel, fierce and base, 
Ravan the spoiler bears me hence 
The helpless prey of violence. 
This fiend who roves in midnight shade 
By thee, dear bird, can ne'er be stayed, 
For he is armed and fierce and strong 
Triumphant in the power to wrong. 
For thee remains one only task, 



1020 



The Ramayana 



To do, kind friend, the thing I ask. 
To Rama's ear by thee be borne 
How Sita from her home is torn, 
And to the valiant Lakshman tell 
The giant's deed and what befell." 



Canto L. Jatayus. 



The vulture from his slumber woke 
And heard the words which Sita spoke 
He raised his eye and looked on her, 
Looked on her giant ravisher. 
That noblest bird with pointed beak, 
Majestic as a mountain peak, 
High on the tree addressed the king 
Of giants, wisely counselling: 
"O Ten-necked lord, I firmly hold 
To faith and laws ordained of old, 
And thou, my brother, shouldst refrain 
From guilty deeds that shame and stain. 
The vulture king supreme in air, 
Jatayus is the name I bear. 
Thy captive, known by Sita's name, 
Is the dear consort and the dame 
Of Rama, Dasaratha's heir 
Who makes the good of all his care. 
Lord of the world in might he vies 
With the great Gods of seas and skies. 
The law he boasts to keep allows 
No king to touch another's spouse, 
And, more than all, a prince's dame 



Canto L. Jatayus. 1021 

High honour and respect may claim. 
Back to the earth thy way incline, 
Nor think of one who is not thine. 
Heroic souls should hold it shame 
To stoop to deeds which others blame, 
And all respect by them is shown 
To dames of others as their own. 
Not every case of bliss and gain 
The Scripture's holy texts explain, 
And subjects, when that light is dim, 
Look to their prince and follow him. 
The king is bliss and profit, he 
Is store of treasures fair to see, 
And all the people's fortunes spring, 
Their joy and misery, from the king. 
If, lord of giant race, thy mind 
Be fickle, false, to sin inclined, 
How wilt thou kingly place retain? 
High thrones in heaven no sinners gain. 
The soul which gentle passions sway 
Ne'er throws its nobler part away, 
Nor will the mansion of the base 
Long be the good man's dwelling-place. 
Prince Rama, chief of high renown, 
Has wronged thee not in field or town. 
Ne'er has he sinned against thee: how 
Canst thou resolve to harm him now? 
If moved by Surpanakha's prayer 
The giant Khara sought him there, 
And fighting fell with baffled aim, 
His and not Rama's is the blame. 
Say, mighty lord of giants, say 
What fault on Rama canst thou lay? 
What has the world's great master done 



1022 The Ramayana 

That thou should steal his precious one? 
Quick, quick the Maithil dame release; 
Let Rama's consort go in peace, 
Lest scorched by his terrific eye 
Beneath his wrath thou fall and die 
Like Vritra when Lord Indra threw 
The lightning flame that smote and slew. 
Ah fool, with blinded eyes to take 
Home to thy heart a venomed snake! 
Ah foolish eyes, too blind to see 
That Death's dire coils entangle thee! 
The prudent man his strength will spare, 
Nor lift a load too great to bear. 
Content is he with wholesome food 
Which gives him life and strength renewed, 
But who would dare the guilty deed 
That brings no fame or glorious meed, 
Where merit there is none to win 
And vengeance soon o'ertakes the sin? 
My course of life, Pulastya's son, 
For sixty thousand years has run. 
Lord of my kind I still maintain 
Mine old hereditary reign. 
I, worn by years, am older far 
Than thou, young lord of bow and car, 
In coat of glittering mail encased 
And armed with arrows at thy waist, 
But not unchallenged shalt thou go, 
Or steal the dame without a blow. 
Thou canst not, King, before mine eyes 
Bear off unchecked thy lovely prize, 
Safe as the truth of Scripture bent 
By no close logic's argument. 
Stay if thy courage let thee, stay 



Canto LI. The Combat. 1023 

And meet me in the battle fray, 

And thou shalt stain the earth with gore 

Falling as Khara fell before. 

Soon Rama, clothed in bark, shall smite [289] 

Thee, his proud foe, in deadly fight, — 

Rama, from whom have oft times fled 

The Daitya hosts discomfited. 

No power have I to kill or slay: 

The princely youths are far away, 

But soon shalt thou with fearful eye 

Struck down beneath their arrows lie. 

But while I yet have life and sense, 

Thou shalt not, tyrant, carry hence 

Fair Sita, Rama's honoured queen, 

With lotus eyes and lovely mien. 

Whate'er the pain, whate'er the cost, 

Though in the struggle life be lost, 

The will of Raghu's noblest son 

And Dasaratha must be done. 

Stay for a while, O Ravan, stay, 

One hour thy flying car delay, 

And from that glorious chariot thou 

Shalt fall like fruit from shaken bough, 

For I to thee, while yet I live, 

The welcome of a foe will give." 



Canto LI. The Combat. 



1024 The Ramayana 

Ravan's red eyes in fury rolled: 
Bright with his armlets' flashing gold, 
In high disdain, by passion stirred 
He rushed against the sovereign bird. 
With clash and din and furious blows 
Of murderous battle met the foes: 
Thus urged by winds two clouds on high 
Meet warring in the stormy sky. 
Then fierce the dreadful combat raged 
As fiend and bird in war engaged, 
As if two winged mountains sped 
To dire encounter overhead. 
Keen pointed arrows thick and fast, 
In never ceasing fury cast, 
Rained hurtling on the vulture king 
And smote him on the breast and wing. 
But still that noblest bird sustained 
The cloud of shafts which Ravan rained, 
And with strong beak and talons bent 
The body of his foeman rent. 
Then wild with rage the ten-necked king 
Laid ten swift arrows on his string, — 
Dread as the staff of Death were they, 
So terrible and keen to slay. 
Straight to his ear the string he drew, 
Straight to the mark the arrows flew, 
And pierced by every iron head 
The vulture's mangled body bled. 
One glance upon the car he bent 
Where Sita wept with shrill lament, 
Then heedless of his wounds and pain 
Rushed at the giant king again. 
Then the brave vulture with the stroke 
Of his resistless talons broke 



Canto LI. The Combat. 1025 

The giant's shafts and bow whereon 
The fairest pearls and jewels shone. 
The monster paused, by rage unmanned: 
A second bow soon armed his hand, 
Whence pointed arrows swift and true 
In hundreds, yea in thousands, flew. 
The monarch of the vultures, plied 
With ceaseless darts on every side, 
Showed like a bird that turns to rest 
Close covered by the branch-built nest. 
He shook his pinions to repel 
The storm of arrows as it fell; 
Then with his talons snapped in two 
The mighty bow which Ravan drew. 
Next with terrific wing he smote 
So fiercely on the giant's coat, 
The harness, glittering with the glow 
Of fire, gave way beneath the blow. 
With storm of murderous strokes he beat 
The harnessed asses strong and fleet, — 
Each with a goblin's monstrous face 
And plates of gold his neck to grace. 
Then on the car he turned his ire, — 
The will-moved car that shone like fire, 
And broke the glorious chariot, broke 
The golden steps and pole and yoke. 
The chouris and the silken shade 
Like the full moon to view displayed, 
Together with the guards who held 
Those emblems, to the ground he felled. 
The royal vulture hovered o'er 
The driver's head, and pierced and tore 
With his strong beak and dreaded claws 
His mangled brow and cheek and jaws. 



1026 The Ramayana 

With broken car and sundered bow, 
His charioteer and team laid low, 
One arm about the lady wound, 
Sprang the fierce giant to the ground. 
Spectators of the combat, all 
The spirits viewed the monster's fall: 
Lauding the vulture every one 
Cried with glad voice, Well done! well done! 
But weak with length of days, at last 
The vulture's strength was failing fast. 
The fiend again assayed to bear 
The lady through the fields of air. 
But when the vulture saw him rise 
Triumphant with his trembling prize, 
Bearing the sword that still was left 
When other arms were lost or cleft, 
Once more, impatient of repose, 
Swift from the earth her champion rose, 
Hung in the way the fiend would take, 
And thus addressing Ravan spake: 
"Thou, King of giants, rash and blind, 
Wilt be the ruin of thy kind, 
Stealing the wife of Rama, him 
With lightning scars on chest and limb. 
A mighty host obeys his will 
[290] And troops of slaves his palace fill; 

His lords of state are wise and true, 
Kinsmen has he and retinue. 
As thirsty travellers drain the cup, 
Thou drinkest deadly poison up. 
The rash and careless fool who heeds 
No coming fruit of guilty deeds, 
A few short years of life shall see, 
And perish doomed to death like thee. 



Canto LI. The Combat. 1027 

Say whither wilt thou fly to loose 

Thy neck from Death's entangling noose, 

Caught like the fish that finds too late 

The hook beneath the treacherous bait? 

Never, O King — of this be sure — 

Will Raghu's fiery sons endure, 

Terrific in their vengeful rage, 

This insult to their hermitage. 

Thy guilty hands this day have done 

A deed which all reprove and shun, 

Unworthly of a noble chief, 

The pillage loved by coward thief. 

Stay, if thy heart allow thee, stay 

And meet me in the deadly fray. 

Soon shall thou stain the earth with gore, 

And fall as Khara fell before. 

The fruits of former deeds o'erpower 

The sinner in his dying hour: 

And such a fate on thee, O King, 

Thy tyranny and madness bring. 

Not e'en the Self-existent Lord, 

Who reigns by all the worlds adored, 

Would dare attempt a guilty deed 

Which the dire fruits of crime succeed." 

Thus brave Jatayus, best of birds, 
Addressed the fiend with moving words, 
Then ready for the swift attack 
Swooped down upon the giant's back. 
Down to the bone the talons went; 
With many a wound the flesh was rent: 
Such blows infuriate drivers deal 
Their elephants with pointed steel. 
Fixed in his back the strong beak lay, 



1028 The Ramayana 

The talons stripped the flesh away. 
He fought with claws and beak and wing, 
And tore the long hair of the king. 
Still as the royal vulture beat 
The giant with his wings and feet, 
Swelled the fiend's lips, his body shook 
With furious rage too great to brook. 
About the Maithil dame he cast 
One huge left arm and held her fast. 
In furious rage to frenzy fanned 
He struck the vulture with his hand. 
Jatayus mocked the vain assay, 
And rent his ten left arms away. 
Down dropped the severed limbs: anew 
Ten others from his body grew: 
Thus bright with pearly radiance glide 
Dread serpents from the hillock side, 
Again in wrath the giant pressed 
The lady closer to his breast, 
And foot and fist sent blow on blow 
In ceaseless fury at the foe. 
So fierce and dire the battle, waged 
Between those mighty champions, raged: 
Here was the lord of giants, there 
The noblest of the birds of air. 
Thus, as his love of Rama taught, 
The faithful vulture strove and fought. 
But Ravan seized his sword and smote 
His wings and side and feet and throat. 
At mangled side and wing he bled; 
He fell, and life was almost fled. 
The lady saw her champion lie, 
His plumes distained with gory dye, 
And hastened to the vulture's side 



Canto LII. Ravan's Flight. 1029 

Grieving as though a kinsman died. 
The lord of Lanka's island viewed 

The vulture as he lay: 
Whose back like some dark cloud was hued, 

His breast a paly grey, 
Like ashes, when by none renewed, 

The flame has died away. 
The lady saw with mournful eye, 

Her champion press the plain, — 
The royal bird, her true ally 

Whom Ravan's might had slain. 
Her soft arms locked in strict embrace 

Around his neck she kept, 
And lovely with her moon-bright face 

Bent o'er her friend and wept. 



Canto LII. Ravan's Flight. 

Fair as the lord of silvery rays 
Whom every star in heaven obeys, 
The Maithil dame her plaint renewed 
O'er him by Ravan's might subdued: 
"Dreams, omens, auguries foreshow 
Our coming lot of weal and woe: 
But thou, my Rama, couldst not see 
The grievous blow which falls on thee. 
The birds and deer desert the brakes 
And show the path my captor takes, 
And thus e'en now this royal bird 
Flew to mine aid by pity stirred. 
Slain for my sake in death he lies, 



1030 The Ramayana 

The broad-winged rover of the skies. 
O Rama, haste, thine aid I crave: 
O Lakshman, why delay to save? 
Brave sons of old Ikshvaku, hear 
And rescue in this hour of fear." 

Her flowery wreath was torn and rent, 
Crushed was each sparkling ornament. 
She with weak arms and trembling knees 
Clung like a creeper to the trees, 
And like some poor deserted thing 
With wild shrieks made the forest ring. 
[291] But swift the giant reached her side, 

As loud on Rama's name she cried. 
Fierce as grim Death one hand he laid 
Upon her tresses' lovely braid. 
"That touch, thou impious King, shall be 
The ruin of thy race and thee." 
The universal world in awe 
That outrage on the lady saw, 
All nature shook convulsed with dread, 
And darkness o'er the land was spread. 
The Lord of Day grew dark and chill, 
And every breath of air was still. 
The Eternal Father of the sky 
Beheld the crime with heavenly eye, 
And spake with solemn voice, "The deed, 
The deed is done, of old decreed." 
Sad were the saints within the grove, 
But triumph with their sorrow strove. 
They wept to see the Maithil dame 
Endure the outrage, scorn, and shame: 
They joyed because his life should pay 
The penalty incurred that day. 



Canto LII. Ravan's Flight. 103 1 

Then Ravan raised her up, and bare 

His captive through the fields of air, 

Calling with accents loud and shrill 

On Rama and on Lakshman still. 

With sparkling gems on arm and breast, 

In silk of paly amber dressed, 

High in the air the Maithil dame 

Gleamed like the lightning's flashing flame. 

The giant, as the breezes blew 

Upon her robes of amber hue, 

And round him twined that gay attire, 

Showed like a mountain girt with fire. 

The lady, fairest of the fair, 

Had wreathed a garland round her hair; 

Its lotus petals bright and sweet 

Rained down about the giant's feet. 

Her vesture, bright as burning gold, 

Gave to the wind each glittering fold, 

Fair as a gilded cloud that gleams 

Touched by the Day-God's tempered beams. 

Yet struggling in the fiend's embrace, 

The lady with her sweet pure face, 

Far from her lord, no longer wore 

The light of joy that shone before. 

Like some sad lily by the side 

Of waters which the sun has dried; 

Like the pale moon uprising through 

An autumn cloud of darkest hue, 

So was her perfect face between 

The arms of giant Ravan seen: 

Fair with the charm of braided tress 

And forehead's finished loveliness; 

Fair with the ivory teeth that shed 

White lustre through the lips' fine red, 



1032 The Ramayana 

Fair as the lotus when the bud 

Is rising from the parent flood. 

With faultless lip and nose and eye, 

Dear as the moon that floods the sky 

With gentle light, of perfect mould, 

She seemed a thing of burnished gold, 

Though on her cheek the traces lay 

Of tears her hand had brushed away. 

But as the moon-beams swiftly fade 

Ere the great Day-God shines displayed, 

So in that form of perfect grace 

Still trembling in the fiend's embrace, 

From her beloved Rama reft, 

No light of pride or joy was left. 

The lady with her golden hue 

O'er the swart fiend a lustre threw, 

As when embroidered girths enfold 

An elephant with gleams of gold. 

Fair as the lily's bending stem, — 

Her arms adorned with many a gem, 

A lustre to the fiend she lent 

Gleaming from every ornament, 

As when the cloud-shot flashes light 

The shadows of a mountain height. 

Whene'er the breezes earthward bore 

The tinkling of the zone she wore, 

He seemed a cloud of darkness hue 

Sending forth murmurs as it flew. 

As on her way the dame was sped 

From her sweet neck fair flowers were shed, 

The swift wind caught the flowery rain 

And poured it o'er the fiend again. 

The wind-stirred blossoms, sweet to smell, 

On the dark brows of Ravan fell, 



Canto LII. Ravan's Flight. 1033 

Like lunar constellations set 

On Meru for a coronet. 

From her small foot an anklet fair 

With jewels slipped, and through the air, 

Like a bright circlet of the flame 

Of thunder, to the valley came. 

The Maithil lady, fair to see 

As the young leaflet of a tree 

Clad in the tender hues of spring, 

Flashed glory on the giant king, 

As when a gold-embroidered zone 

Around an elephant is thrown. 

While, bearing far the lady, through 

The realms of sky the giant flew, 

She like a gleaming meteor cast 

A glory round her as she passed. 

Then from each limb in swift descent 

Dropped many a sparkling ornament: 

On earth they rested dim and pale 

Like fallen stars when virtues fail. 504 

Around her neck a garland lay 

Bright as the Star-God's silvery ray: 

It fell and flashed like Ganga sent 

From heaven above the firmament. 505 

The birds of every wing had flocked 

To stately trees by breezes rocked: [292] 

These bowed their wind-swept heads and said: 

"My lady sweet, be comforted." 

With faded blooms each brook within 

Whose waters moved no gleamy fin, 

Stole sadly through the forest dell 



504 The spirits of the good dwell in heaven until their store of accumulated 
merit is exhausted. Then they redescend to earth in the form of falling stars. 

505 See The Descent of Ganga, Book I Canto XLIV. 



1034 The Ramayana 

Mourning the dame it loved so well. 

From every woodland region near 

Came lions, tigers, birds, and deer, 

And followed, each with furious look, 

The way her flying shadow took. 

For Sita's loss each lofty hill 

Whose tears were waterfall, and rill, 

Lifting on high each arm-like steep, 

Seemed in the general woe to weep. 

When the great sun, the lord of day, 

Saw Ravan tear the dame away, 

His glorious light began to fail 

And all his disk grew cold and pale. 

"If Ravan from the forest flies 

With Rama's Sita as his prize, 

Justice and truth have vanished hence, 

Honour and right and innocence." 

Thus rose the cry of wild despair 

From spirits as they gathered there. 

In trembling troops in open lawns 

Wept, wild with woe, the startled fawns, 

And a strange terror changed the eyes 

They lifted to the distant skies. 

On silvan Gods who love the dell 

A sudden fear and trembling fell, 

As in the deepest woe they viewed 

The lady by the fiend subdued. 

Still in loud shrieks was heard afar 

That voice whose sweetness naught could mar, 

While eager looks of fear and woe 

She bent upon the earth below. 

The lady of each winning wile 

With pearly teeth and lovely smile, 

Seized by the lord of Lanka's isle, 



Canto LIII. Sita's Threats. 1035 

Looked down for friends in vain. 
She saw no friend to aid her, none, 
Not Rama nor the younger son 
Of Dasaratha, and undone 

She swooned with fear and pain. 



Canto LIII. Sita's Threats. 



Soon as the Maithil lady knew 

That high through air the giant flew, 

Distressed with grief and sore afraid 

Her troubled spirit sank dismayed. 

Then, as anew the waters welled 

From those red eyes which sorrow swelled, 

Forth in keen words her passion broke, 

And to the fierce-eyed fiend she spoke: 

"Canst thou attempt a deed so base, 

Untroubled by the deep disgrace, — 

To steal me from my home and fly, 

When friend or guardian none was nigh? 

Thy craven soul that longed to steal, 

Fearing the blows that warriors deal, 

Upon a magic deer relied 

To lure my husband from my side, 

Friend of his sire, the vulture king 

Lies low on earth with mangled wing, 

Who gave his aged life for me 

And died for her he sought to free. 

Ah, glorious strength indeed is thine, 

Thou meanest of thy giant line, 

Whose courage dared to tell thy name 



1036 The Ramayana 

And conquer in the fight a dame. 
Does the vile deed that thou hast done 
Cause thee no shame, thou wicked one — 
A woman from her home to rend 
When none was near his aid to lend? 
Through all the worlds, O giant King, 
The tidings of this deed will ring, 
This deed in law and honour's spite 
By one who claims a hero's might. 
Shame on thy boasted valour, shame! 
Thy prowess is an empty name. 
Shame, giant, on this cursed deed 
For which thy race is doomed to bleed! 
Thou fliest swifter than the gale, 
For what can strength like thine avail? 
Stay for one hour, O Ravan, stay; 
Thou shalt not flee with life away. 
Soon as the royal chieftains' sight 
Falls on the thief who roams by night, 
Thou wilt not, tyrant, live one hour 
Though backed by all thy legions' power. 
Ne'er can thy puny strength sustain 
The tempest of their arrowy rain: 
Have e'er the trembling birds withstood 
The wild flames raging in the wood? 
Hear me, O Ravan, let me go, 
And save thy soul from coming woe. 
Or if thou wilt not set me free, 
Wroth for this insult done to me. 
With his brave brother's aid my lord 
Against thy life will raise his sword. 
A guilty hope inflames thy breast 
His wife from Rama's home to wrest. 
Ah fool, the hope thou hast is vain; 



Canto LIII. Sfta's Threats. 1037 

Thy dreams of bliss shall end in pain. 

If torn from all I love by thee 

My godlike lord no more I see, 

Soon will I die and end my woes, 

Nor live the captive of my foes. 

Ah fool, with blinded eyes to choose 

The evil and the good refuse! 

So the sick wretch with stubborn will 

Turns fondly to the cates that kill, 

And madly draws his lips away 

From medicine that would check decay. 

About thy neck securely wound [293] 

The deadly coil of Fate is bound, 

And thou, O Ravan, dost not fear 

Although the hour of death is near. 

With death-doomed sight thine eyes behold 

The gleaming of the trees of gold, — 

See dread Vaitarani, the flood 

That rolls a stream of foamy blood, — 

See the dark wood by all abhorred — 

Its every leaf a threatening sword. 

The tangled thickets thou shall tread 

Where thorns with iron points are spread. 

For never can thy days be long, 

Base plotter of this shame and wrong 

To Rama of the lofty soul: 

He dies who drinks the poisoned bowl. 

The coils of death around thee lie: 

They hold thee and thou canst not fly. 

Ah whither, tyrant, wouldst thou run 

The vengeance of my lord to shun? 

By his unaided arm alone 

Were twice seven thousand fiends o'erthrown: 

Yes, in the twinkling of an eye 



1038 The Ramayana 

He forced thy mightiest fiends to die. 
And shall that lord of lion heart, 
Skilled in the bow and spear and dart, 
Spare thee, O fiend, in battle strife, 
The robber of his darling wife?" 

These were her words, and more beside, 
By wrath and bitter hate supplied. 
Then by her woe and fear o'erthrown 
She wept again and made her moan. 
As long she wept in grief and dread, 
Scarce conscious of the words she said, 
The wicked giant onward fled 

And bore her through the air. 
As firm he held the Maithil dame, 
Still wildly struggling, o'er her frame 
With grief and bitter misery came 

The trembling of despair. 



Canto LIV. Lanka. 



He bore her on in rapid flight, 

And not a friend appeared in sight. 

But on a hill that o'er the wood 

Raised its high top five monkeys stood. 

From her fair neck her scarf she drew, 

And down the glittering vesture flew. 

With earring, necklet, chain, and gem, 

Descending in the midst of them: 

"For these," she thought, "my path may show, 

And tell my lord the way I go." 



Canto LIV. Lanka. 1039 

Nor did the fiend, in wild alarm, 

Mark when she drew from neck and arm 

And foot the gems and gold, and sent 

To earth each gleaming ornament. 

The monkeys raised their tawny eyes 

That closed not in their first surprise, 

And saw the dark-eyed lady, where 

She shrieked above them in the air. 

High o'er their heads the giant passed 

Holding the weeping lady fast. 

O'er Pampa's flashing flood he sped 

And on to Lanka's city fled. 

He bore away in senseless joy 

The prize that should his life destroy, 

Like the rash fool who hugs beneath 

His robe a snake with venomed teeth. 

Swift as an arrow from a bow, 

Speeding o'er lands that lay below, 

Sublime in air his course he took 

O'er wood and rock and lake and brook. 

He passed at length the sounding sea 

Where monstrous creatures wander free, — 

Seat of Lord Varun's ancient reign, 

Controller of the eternal main. 

The angry waves were raised and tossed 

As Ravan with the lady crossed, 

And fish and snake in wild unrest 

Showed flashing fin and gleaming crest. 

Then from the blessed troops who dwell 

In air celestial voices fell: 

"O ten-necked King," they cried, "attend: 

This guilty deed will bring thine end." 



1040 The Ramayana 

Then Ravan speeding like the storm, 
Bearing his death in human form, 
The struggling Sita, lighted down 
In royal Lanka's glorious town; 
A city bright and rich, that showed 
Well-ordered street and noble road; 
Arranged with just division, fair 
With multitudes in court and square. 
Thus, all his journey done, he passed 
Within his royal home at last. 
There in a queenly bower he placed 
The black-eyed dame with dainty waist: 
Thus in her chamber Maya laid 
The lovely Maya, demon maid. 
Then Ravan gave command to all 
The dread she-fiends who filled the hall: 
"This captive lady watch and guard 
From sight of man and woman barred. 
But all the fair one asks beside 
Be with unsparing hand supplied: 
As though 'twere I that asked, withhold 
No pearls or dress or gems or gold. 
And she among you that shall dare 
Of purpose or through want of care 
One word to vex her soul to say, 
Throws her unvalued life away." 

Thus spake the monarch of their race 
To those she-fiends who thronged the place, 
And pondering on the course to take 
Went from the chamber as he spake. 
He saw eight giants, strong and dread, 
On flesh of bleeding victims fed, 
[294] Proud in the boon which Brahma gave, 



Canto LIV. Lanka. 1041 

And trusting in its power to save. 

He thus the mighty chiefs addressed 

Of glorious power and strength possessed: 

"Arm, warriors, with the spear and bow; 

With all your speed from Lanka go, 

For Janasthan, our own no more, 

Is now defiled with giants' gore; 

The seat of Khara's royal state 

Is left unto us desolate. 

In your brave hearts and might confide, 

And cast ignoble fear aside. 

Go, in that desert region dwell 

Where the fierce giants fought and fell. 

A glorious host that region held, 

For power and might unparalleled, 

By Dushan and brave Khara led, — 

All, slain by Rama's arrows, bled. 

Hence boundless wrath that spurns control 

Reigns paramount within my soul, 

And naught but Rama's death can sate 

The fury of my vengeful hate. 

I will not close my slumbering eyes 

Till by this hand my foeman dies. 

And when mine arm has slain the foe 

Who laid those giant princes low, 

Long will I triumph in the deed, 

Like one enriched in utmost need. 

Now go; that I this end may gain, 

In Janasthan, O chiefs, remain. 

Watch Rama there with keenest eye, 

And all his deeds and movements spy. 

Go forth, no helping art neglect, 

Be brave and prompt and circumspect, 

And be your one endeavour still 



1042 The Ramayana 

To aid mine arm this foe to kill. 
Oft have I seen your warrior might 
Proved in the forehead of the fight, 
And sure of strength I know so well 
Send you in Janasthan to dwell." 
The giants heard with prompt assent 

The pleasant words he said, 
And each before his master bent 

For meet salute, his head. 
Then as he bade, without delay, 

From Lanka's gate they passed, 
And hurried forward on their way 
Invisible and fast. 



Canto LV. SM In Prison. 



Thus Ravan his commandment gave 
To those eight giants strong and brave, 
So thinking in his foolish pride 
Against all dangers to provide. 
Then with his wounded heart aflame 
With love he thought upon the dame, 
And took with hasty steps the way 
To the fair chamber where she lay. 
He saw the gentle lady there 
Weighed down by woe too great to bear, 
Amid the throng of fiends who kept 
Their watch around her as she wept: 
A pinnace sinking neath the wave 
When mighty winds around her rave: 
A lonely herd-forsaken deer, 



Canto LV. Sita In Prison. 1043 

When hungry dogs are pressing near. 

Within the bower the giant passed: 

Her mournful looks were downward cast. 

As there she lay with streaming eyes 

The giant bade the lady rise, 

And to the shrinking captive showed 

The glories of his rich abode, 

Where thousand women spent their days 

In palaces with gold ablaze; 

Where wandered birds of every sort, 

And jewels flashed in hall and court. 

Where noble pillars charmed the sight 

With diamond and lazulite, 

And others glorious to behold 

With ivory, crystal, silver, gold. 

There swelled on high the tambour's sound, 

And burnished ore was bright around 

He led the mournful lady where 

Resplendent gold adorned the stair, 

And showed each lattice fair to see 

With silver work and ivory: 

Showed his bright chambers, line on line, 

Adorned with nets of golden twine. 

Beyond he showed the Maithil dame 

His gardens bright as lightning's flame, 

And many a pool and lake he showed 

Where blooms of gayest colour glowed. 

Through all his home from view to view 

The lady sunk in grief he drew. 

Then trusting in her heart to wake 

Desire of all she saw, he spake: 

"Three hundred million giants, all 

Obedient to their master's call, 

Not counting young and weak and old, 



1044 The Ramayana 

Serve me with spirits fierce and bold. 
A thousand culled from all of these 
Wait on the lord they long to please. 
This glorious power, this pomp and sway, 
Dear lady, at thy feet I lay: 
Yea, with my life I give the whole, 
O dearer than my life and soul. 
A thousand beauties fill my hall: 
Be thou my wife and rule them all. 
O hear my supplication! why 
This reasonable prayer deny? 
Some pity to thy suitor show, 
For love's hot flames within me glow. 
This isle a hundred leagues in length, 
Encompassed by the ocean's strength, 
Would all the Gods and fiends defy 
Though led by Him who rules the sky. 
No God in heaven, no sage on earth, 
[295] No minstrel of celestial birth, 

No spirit in the worlds I see 
A match in power and might for me. 
What wilt thou do with Rama, him 
Whose days are short, whose light is dim, 
Expelled from home and royal sway, 
Who treads on foot his weary way? 
Leave the poor mortal to his fate, 
And wed thee with a worthier mate. 
My timid love, enjoy with me 
The prime of youth before it flee. 
Do not one hour the hope retain 
To look on Rama's face again. 
For whom would wildest thought beguile 
To seek thee in the giants' isle? 
Say who is he has power to bind 



Canto LV. Sita In Prison. 1045 

In toils of net the rushing wind. 
Whose is the mighty hand will tame 
And hold the glory of the flame? 
In all the worlds above, below, 
Not one, O fair of form, I know 
Who from this isle in fight could rend 
The lady whom these arms defend. 
Fair Queen, o'er Lanka's island reign, 
Sole mistress of the wide domain. 
Gods, rovers of the night like me, 
And all the world thy slaves will be. 
O'er thy fair brows and queenly head 
Let consecrating balm be shed, 
And sorrow banished from thy breast, 
Enjoy my love and take thy rest. 
Here never more thy soul shall know 
The memory of thy former woe, 
And here shall thou enjoy the meed 
Deserved by every virtuous deed. 
Here garlands glow of flowery twine, 
With gorgeous hues and scent divine. 
Take gold and gems and rich attire: 
Enjoy with me thy heart's desire. 
There stand, of chariots far the best, 
The car my brother once possessed. 
Which, victor in the stricken field, 
I forced the Lord of Gold to yield. 
'Tis wide and high and nobly wrought, 
Bright as the sun and swift as thought. 
Therein O Sita, shalt thou ride 
Delighted by thy lover's side. 
But sorrow mars with lingering trace 
The splendour of thy lotus face. 
A cloud of woe is o'er it spread, 



1046 The Ramayana 

And all the light of joy is fled." 



The lady, by her woe distressed, 
One corner of her raiment pressed 
To her sad cheek like moonlight clear, 
And wiped away a falling tear. 
The rover of the night renewed 
His eager pleading as he viewed 
The lady stand like one distraught, 
Striving to fix her wandering thought: 



"Think not, sweet lady, of the shame 
Of broken vows, nor fear the blame. 
The saints approve with favouring eyes 
This union knit with marriage ties. 

beauty, at thy radiant feet 

1 lay my heads, and thus entreat. 
One word of grace, one look I crave: 
Have pity on thy prostrate slave. 
These idle words I speak are vain, 
Wrung forth by love's consuming pain, 
And ne'er of Ravan be it said 

He wooed a dame with prostrate head." 
Thus to the Maithil lady sued 
The monarch of the giant brood, 
And "She is now mine own," he thought, 
In Death's dire coils already caught. 



Canto LVI. Sita's Disdain. 1047 

Canto LVI. Sita's Disdain. 

His words the Maithil lady heard 

Oppressed by woe but undeterred. 

Fear of the fiend she cast aside, 

And thus in noble scorn replied: 

"His word of honour never stained 

King Dasaratha nobly reigned, 

The bridge of right, the friend of truth. 

His eldest son, a noble youth, 

Is Rama, virtue's faithful friend, 

Whose glories through the worlds extend. 

Long arms and large full eyes has he, 

My husband, yea a God to me. 

With shoulders like the forest king's, 

From old Ikshvaku's line he springs. 

He with his brother Lakshman's aid 

Will smite thee with the vengeful blade. 

Hadst thou but dared before his eyes 

To lay thine hand upon the prize, 

Thou stretched before his feet hadst lain 

In Janasthan like Khara slain. 

Thy boasted rovers of the night 

With hideous shapes and giant might, — 

Like serpents when the feathered king 

Swoops down with his tremendous wing, — 

Will find their useless venom fail 

When Rama's mighty arms assail. 

The rapid arrows bright with gold, 

Shot from the bow he loves to hold, 

Will rend thy frame from flank to flank 

As Ganga's waves erode the bank. 

Though neither God nor fiend have power 

To slay thee in the battle hour, 



1048 The Ramayana 

Yet from his hand shall come thy fate, 
Struck down before his vengeful hate. 
That mighty lord will strike and end 
The days of life thou hast to spend. 
Thy days are doomed, thy life is sped 
Like victims to the pillar led. 
Yea, if the glance of Rama bright 
With fury on thy form should light, 
[296] Thou scorched this day wouldst fall and die 

Like Kama slain by Rudra's eye. 506 
He who from heaven the moon could throw, 
Or bid its bright rays cease to glow, — 
He who could drain the mighty sea 
Will set his darling Sita free. 
Fled is thy life, thy glory, fled 
Thy strength and power: each sense is dead. 
Soon Lanka widowed by thy guilt 
Will see the blood of giants spilt. 
This wicked deed, O cruel King, 
No triumph, no delight will bring. 
Thou with outrageous might and scorn 
A woman from her lord hast torn. 
My glorious husband far away, 
Making heroic strength his stay, 
Dwells with his brother, void of fear, 
In Dan dak forest lone and drear. 
No more in force of arms confide: 
That haughty strength, that power and pride 
My hero with his arrowy rain 
From all thy bleeding limbs will drain. 
When urged by fate's dire mandate, nigh 
Comes the fixt hour for men to die. 



Canto LVI. SM's Disdain. 1049 

Caught in Death's toils their eyes are blind, 

And folly takes each wandering mind. 

So for the outrage thou hast done 

The fate is near thou canst not shun, — 

The fate that on thyself and all 

Thy giants and thy town shall fall. 

I spurn thee: can the altar dight 

With vessels for the sacred rite, 

O'er which the priest his prayer has said, 

Be sullied by an outcaste's tread? 

So me, the consort dear and true 

Of him who clings to virtue too, 

Thy hated touch shall ne'er defile, 

Base tyrant lord of Lanka's isle. 

Can the white swan who floats in pride 

Through lilies by her consort's side, 

Look for one moment, as they pass, 

On the poor diver in the grass? 

This senseless body waits thy will, 

To torture, chain, to wound or kill. 

I will not, King of giants, strive 

To keep this fleeting soul alive 

But never shall they join the name 

Of Sita with reproach and shame." 

Thus as her breast with fury burned 
Her bitter speech the dame returned. 
Such words of rage and scorn, the last 
She uttered, at the fiend she cast. 
Her taunting speech the giant heard, 
And every hair with anger stirred. 
Then thus with fury in his eye 
He made in threats his fierce reply: 
"Hear Maithil lady, hear my speech: 



1050 The Ramayana 

List to my words and ponder each. 

If o'er thy head twelve months shall fly 

And thou thy love wilt still deny, 

My cooks shall mince thy flesh with steel 

And serve it for my morning meal." 



Thus with terrific threats to her 
Spake Ravan, cruel ravener. 
Mad with the rage her answer woke 
He called the fiendish train and spoke: 
"Take her, ye Rakshas dames, who fright 
With hideous form and mien the sight, 
Who make the flesh of men your food, — 
And let her pride be soon subdued." 
He spoke, and at his word the band 
Of fiendish monsters raised each hand 
In reverence to the giant king, 
And pressed round Sita in a ring. 
Ravan once more with stern behest 
To those she-fiends his speech addressed: 
Shaking the earth beneath his tread, 
He stamped his furious foot and said: 
"To the Asoka garden bear 
The dame, and guard her safely there 
Until her stubborn pride be bent 
By mingled threat and blandishment. 
See that ye watch her well, and tame, 
Like some she-elephant, the dame." 



Canto LVII. Sita Comforted. 105 1 

They led her to that garden where 
The sweetest flowers perfumed the air, 
Where bright trees bore each rarest fruit, 
And birds, enamoured, ne'er were mute. 
Bowed down with terror and distress, 
Watched by each cruel giantess, — 
Like a poor solitary deer 
When ravening tigresses are near, — 
The hapless lady lay distraught 
Like some wild thing but newly caught, 
And found no solace, no relief 
From agonizing fear and grief; 
Not for one moment could forget 
Each terrifying word and threat, 
Or the fierce eyes upon her set 

By those who watched around. 
She thought of Rama far away, 
She mourned for Lakshman as she lay 
In grief and terror and dismay 

Half fainting on the ground. 



Canto LVII. Sita Comforted. 



Soon as the fiend had set her down 
Within his home in Lanka's town 
Triumph and joy filled Indra's breast, 
Whom thus the Eternal Sire addressed: 



1052 The Ramayana 

"This deed will free the worlds from woe 
And cause the giants' overthrow. 
The fiend has borne to Lanka's isle 
The lady of the lovely smile, 
True consort born to happy fate 
[297] With features fair and delicate. 

She looks and longs for Rama's face, 
But sees a crowd of demon race, 
And guarded by the giant's train 
Pines for her lord and weeps in vain. 
But Lanka founded on a steep 
Is girdled by the mighty deep, 
And how will Rama know his fair 
And blameless wife is prisoned there? 
She on her woe will sadly brood 
And pine away in solitude, 
And heedless of herself, will cease 
To live, despairing of release. 
Yes, pondering on her fate, I see 
Her gentle life in jeopardy. 
Go, Indra, swiftly seek the place, 
And look upon her lovely face. 
Within the city make thy way: 
Let heavenly food her spirit stay." 



Thus Brahma spake: and He who slew 
The cruel demon Paka, flew 
Where Lanka's royal city lay, 
And Sleep went with him on his way. 
"Sleep," cried the heavenly Monarch, "close 
Each giant's eye in deep repose." 



Canto LVII. Sita Comforted. 1053 

Thus Indra spoke, and Sleep fulfilled 
With joy his mandate, as he willed, 
To aid the plan the Gods proposed, 
The demons' eyes in sleep she closed. 
Then Sachi's lord, the Thousand-eyed, 
To the Asoka garden hied. 
He came and stood where Sita lay, 
And gently thus began to say: 
"Lord of the Gods who hold the sky, 
Dame of the lovely smile, am I. 
Weep no more, lady, weep no more; 
Thy days of woe will soon be o'er. 
I come, O Janak's child, to be 
The helper of thy lord and thee. 
He through my grace, with hosts to aid, 
This sea-girt land will soon invade. 
'Tis by my art that slumbers close 
The eyelids of thy giant foes. 
Now I, with Sleep, this place have sought, 
Videhan lady, and have brought 
A gift of heaven's ambrosial food 
To stay thee in thy solitude. 
Receive it from my hand, and taste, 
O lady of the dainty waist: 
For countless ages thou shall be 
From pangs of thirst and hunger free." 

But doubt within her bosom woke 
As to the Lord of Gods she spoke: 
"How may I know for truth that thou 
Whose form I see before me now 
Art verily the King adored 
By heavenly Gods, and Sachi's lord? 
With Raghu's sons I learnt to know 



1054 The Ramayana 

The certain signs which Godhead show. 
These marks before mine eyes display 
If o'er the Gods thou bear the sway." 

The heavenly lord of Sachi heard, 
And did according to her word. 
Above the ground his feet were raised; 
With eyelids motionless he gazed. 
No dust upon his raiment lay, 
And his bright wreath was fresh and gay. 
Nor was the lady's glad heart slow 
The Monarch of the Gods to know, 
And while the tears unceasing ran 
From her sweet eyes she thus began: 
"My lord has gained a friend in thee, 
And I this day thy presence see 
Shown clearly to mine eyes, as when 
Rama and Lakshman, lords of men, 
Beheld it, and their sire the king, 
And Janak too from whom I spring. 
Now I, O Monarch of the Blest, 
Will eat this food at thy behest, 
Which thou hast brought me, of thy grace, 
To aid and strengthen Raghu's race." 

She spoke, and by his words relieved, 
The food from Indra's hand received, 
Yet ere she ate the balm he brought, 
On Lakshman and her lord she thought. 
"If my brave lord be still alive, 
If valiant Lakshman yet survive, 
May this my taste of heavenly food 
Bring health to them and bliss renewed!" 
She ate, and that celestial food 



Canto LVIII. The Brothers' Meeting. 1055 

Stayed hunger, thirst, and lassitude, 

And all her strength restored. 
Great joy her hopeful spirit stirred 
At the glad tidings newly heard 

Of Lakshman and her lord. 
And Indra's heart was joyful too: 
He bade the Maithil dame adieu, 

His saving errand done. 
With Sleep beside him parting thence 
He sought his heavenly residence 

To prosper Raghu's son. 



Canto LVIII. The Brothers' Meeting. 



When Rama's deadly shaft had struck 

The giant in the seeming buck, 

The chieftain turned him from the place 

His homeward way again to trace. 

Then as he hastened onward, fain 

To look upon his spouse again, 

Behind him from a thicket nigh 

Rang out a jackal's piercing cry. 

Alarmed he heard the startling shriek 

That raised his hair and dimmed his cheek, 

And all his heart was filled with doubt 

As the shrill jackal's cry rang out: 

"Alas, some dire disaster seems 

Portended by the jackal's screams. 

O may the Maithil dame be screened 

From outrage of each hungry fiend! [298] 



1056 The Ramayana 

Alas, if Lakshman chanced to hear 

That bitter cry of woe and fear 

What time Maricha, as he died, 

With voice that mocked my accents cried, 

Swift to my side the prince would flee 

And quit the dame to succour me. 

Too well I see the demon band 

The slaughter of my love have planned. 

Me far from home and Sita's view 

The seeming deer Maricha drew. 

He led me far through brake and dell 

Till wounded by my shaft he fell, 

And as he sank rang out his cry, 

"O save me, Lakshman, or I die." 

May it be well with both who stayed 

In the great wood with none to aid, 

For every fiend is now my foe 

For Janasthan's great overthrow, 

And many an omen seen to-day 

Has filled my heart with sore dismay." 

Such were the thoughts and sad surmise 
Of Rama at the jackal's cries, 
And all his heart within him burned 
As to his cot his steps he turned. 
He pondered on the deer that led 
His feet to follow where it fled, 
And sad with many a bitter thought 
His home in Janasthan he sought. 
His soul was dark with woe and fear 
When flocks of birds and troops of deer 
Move round him from the left, and raised 
Discordant voices as they gazed. 
The omens which the chieftain viewed 



Canto LVIII. The Brothers' Meeting. 1057 

The terror of his soul renewed, 
When lo, to meet him Lakshman sped 
With brows whence all the light had fled. 
Near and more near the princes came, 
Each brother's heart and look the same; 
Alike on each sad visage lay 
The signs of misery and dismay, 
Then Rama by his terror moved 
His brother for his fault reproved 
In leaving Sita far from aid 
In the wild wood where giants strayed. 
Lakshman's left hand he took, and then 
In gentle tones the prince of men, 
Though sharp and fierce their tenour ran, 
Thus to his brother chief began: 

"O Lakshman, thou art much to blame 
Leaving alone the Maithil dame, 
And flying hither to my side: 
O, may no ill my spouse betide! 
But ah, I know my wife is dead, 
And giants on her limbs have fed, 
So strange, so terrible are all 
The omens which my heart appal. 
O Lakshman, may we yet return 
The safety of my love to learn. 
To find the child of Janak still 
Alive and free from scathe and ill! 
Each bird with notes of warning screams, 
Though the hot sun still darts his beams. 
The moan of deer, the jackal's yell 
Of some o'erwhelming misery tell. 
O mighty brother, still may she, 
My princess, live from danger free! 



1058 The Ramayana 

That semblance of a golden deer 

Allured me far away, 
I followed nearer and more near, 

And longed to take the prey. 
I followed where the quarry fled: 

My deadly arrow flew, 
And as the dying creature bled, 

The giant met my view. 
Great fear and pain oppress my heart 

That dreads the coming blow, 
And through my left eye keenly dart 

The throbs that herald woe. 
Ah Lakshman, all these signs dismay, 

My soul that sinks with dread, 
I know my love is torn away, 

Or, haply, she is dead." 



Canto LIX. Rama's Return. 



When Rama saw his brother stand 
With none beside him, all unmanned, 
Eager he questioned why he came 
So far without the Maithil dame: 
"Where is my wife, my darling, she 
Who to the wild wood followed me? 
Where hast thou left my lady, where 
The dame who chose my lot to share? 
Where is my love who balms my woe 
As through the forest wilds I go, 
Unkinged and banished and disgraced,- 
My darling of the dainty waist? 



Canto LIX. Rama's Return. 1059 

She nerves my spirit for the strife, 

She, only she gives zest to life, 

Dear as my breath is she who vies 

In charms with daughters of the skies. 

If Janak's child be mine no more, 

In splendour fair as virgin ore, 

The lordship of the skies and earth 

To me were prize of little worth. 

Ah, lives she yet, the Maithil dame, 

Dear as the soul within this frame? 

O, let not all my toil be vain, 

The banishment, the woe and pain! 

O, let not dark Kaikeyi win 

The guerdon of her treacherous sin, 

If, Sita lost, my days I end, 

And thou without me homeward wend! 

O, let not good Kausalya shed 

Her bitter tears to mourn me dead, 

Nor her proud rival's hest obey, 

Strong in her son and queenly sway! 

Back to my cot will I repair 

If Sita live to greet me there, [299] 

But if my wife have perished, I 

Reft of my love will surely die. 

Lakshman, if I seek my cot, 
Look for my love and find her not 
Sweet welcome with her smile to give, 

1 tell thee, I will cease to live. 

O answer, — let thy words be plain, — 
Lives Sita yet, or is she slain? 
Didst thou thy sacred trust betray 
Till ravening giants seized the prey? 
Ah me, so young, so soft and fair, 
Lapped in all bliss, untried by care, 



1060 The Ramayana 

Rent from her own dear husband, how 
Will she support her misery now? 
That voice, O Lakshman smote thine ear, 
And filled, I ween, thy heart with fear, 
When on thy name for succour cried 
The treacherous giant ere he died. 
That voice too like mine own, I ween, 
Was heard by the Videhan queen. 
She bade thee seek my side to aid, 
And quickly was the hest obeyed, 
But ah, thy fault I needs must blame, 
To leave alone the helpless dame, 
And let the cruel giants sate 
The fury of their murderous hate. 
Those blood-devouring demons all 
Grieve in their souls for Khara's fall, 
And Sita, none to guard her side, 
Torn by their cruel hands has died. 
I sink, O tamer of thy foes, 
Deep in the sea of whelming woes. 
What can I now? I must endure 
The mighty grief that mocks at cure." 

Thus, all his thoughts on Sita bent, 
To Janasthan the chieftain went, 
Hastening on with eager stride, 
And Lakshman hurried by his side. 
With toil and thirst and hunger worn, 
His breast with doubt and anguish torn, 

He sought the well-known spot. 
Again, again he turned to chide 
With quivering lips which terror dried: 

He looked, and found her not. 
Within his leafy home he sped, 



Canto LX. Lakshman Reproved. 1061 

Each pleasant spot he visited 

Where oft his darling strayed. 
"Tis as I feared," he cried, and there, 
Yielding to pangs too great to bear, 

He sank by grief dismayed. 



Canto LX. Lakshman Reproved. 



But Rama ceased not to upbraid, 

His brother for untimely aid, 

And thus, while anguish wrung his breast, 

The chief with eager question pressed: 

"Why, Lakshman, didst thou hurry hence 

And leave my wife without defence? 

I left her in the wood with thee, 

And deemed her safe from jeopardy. 

When first thy form appeared in view, 

I marked that Sita came not too. 

With woe my troubled soul was rent, 

Prophetic of the dire event. 

Thy coming steps afar I spied, 

I saw no Sita by thy side, 

And felt a sudden throbbing dart 

Through my left eye, and arm, and heart." 



1062 The Ramayana 

Lakshman, with Fortune's marks impressed, 
His brother mournfully addressed: 
"Not by my heart's free impulse led, 
Leaving thy wife to thee I sped; 
But by her keen reproaches sent, 

Rama, to thine aid I went. 
She heard afar a mournful cry, 
"O save me, Lakshman, or I die." 
The voice that spoke in moving tone 
Smote on her ear and seemed thine own. 
Soon as those accents reached her ear 
She yielded to her woe and fear, 

She wept o'ercome by grief, and cried, 
"Fly, Lakshman, fly to Rama's side." 
Though many a time she bade me speed, 
Her urgent prayer I would not heed. 

1 bade her in thy strength confide, 
And thus with tender words replied: 
"No giant roams the forest shade 

From whom thy lord need shrink dismayed. 
No human voice, believe me, spoke 
Those words thy causeless fear that woke. 
Can he whose might can save in woe 
The heavenly Gods e'er stoop so low, 
And with those piteous accents call 
For succour like a caitiff thrall? 
And why should wandering giants choose 
The accents of thy lord to use, 
In alien tones my help to crave, 
And cry aloud, O Lakshman, save? 
Now let my words thy spirit cheer, 
Compose thy thoughts and banish fear. 
In hell, in earth, or in the skies 
There is not, and there cannot rise 



Canto LX. Lakshman Reproved. 1063 

A champion whose strong arm can slay 

Thy Rama in the battle fray. 

To heavenly hosts he ne'er would yield 

Though Indra led them to the field." 

To soothe her thus I vainly sought: 

Her heart with woe was still distraught. 

While from her eyes the waters ran 

Her bitter speech she thus began: 

"Too well I see thy dark intent: 

Thy lawless thoughts on me are bent. 

Thou hopest, but thy hope is vain, 

To win my love, thy brother slain. 

Not love, but Bharat's dark decree 

To share his exile counselled thee, [300] 

Or hearing now his bitter cry 

Thou surely to his aid wouldst fly. 

For love of me, a stealthy foe 

Thou choosest by his side to go, 

And now thou longest that my lord 

Should die, and wilt no help afford." 

Such were the words the lady said: 
With angry fire my eyes were red. 
With pale lips quivering in my rage 
I hastened from the hermitage." 
He ceased; and frenzied by his pain 
The son of Raghu spoke again: 
"O brother, for thy fault I grieve, 
The Maithil dame alone to leave. 
Thou knowest that my arm is strong 
To save me from the giant throng, 
And yet couldst leave the cottage, spurred 
To folly by her angry word. 
For this thy deed I praise thee not, — 



1064 The Ramayana 

To leave her helpless in the cot, 
And thus thy sacred charge forsake 
For the wild words a woman spake. 
Yea thou art all to blame herein, 
And very grievous is thy sin. 
That anger swayed thy faithless breast 
And made thee false to my behest. 
An arrow speeding from my bow 
Has laid the treacherous giant low, 
Who lured me eager for the chase 
Far from my hermit dwelling-place. 
The string with easy hand I drew, 
The arrow as in pastime flew, 

The wounded quarry bled. 
The borrowed form was cast away, 
Before mine eye a giant lay 

With bright gold braceleted. 
My arrow smote him in the chest: 
The giant by the pain distressed 

Raised his loud voice on high. 
Far rang the mournful sound: mine own, 
It seemed, were accent, voice, and tone, 
They made thee leave my spouse alone 

And to my rescue fly." 



Canto LXI. Rama's Lament. 



As Rama sought his leafy cot 
Through his left eye keen throbbings shot, 
His wonted strength his frame forsook, 
And all his body reeled and shook. 



Canto LXI. Rama's Lament. 1065 

Still on those dreadful signs he thought, — 

Sad omens with disaster fraught, 

And from his troubled heart he cried, 

"O, may no ill my spouse betide!" 

Longing to gaze on Sita's face 

He hastened to his dwelling-place, 

Then sinking neath his misery's weight, 

He looked and found it desolate. 

Tossing his mighty arms on high 

He sought her with an eager cry, 

From spot to spot he wildly ran 

Each corner of his home to scan. 

He looked, but Sita was not there; 

His cot was disolate and bare, 

Like streamlet in the winter frost, 

The glory of her lilies lost. 

With leafy tears the sad trees wept 

As a wild wind their branches swept. 

Mourned bird and deer, and every flower 

Drooped fainting round the lonely bower. 

The silvan deities had fled 

The spot where all the light was dead, 

Where hermit coats of skin displayed, 

And piles of sacred grass were laid. 

He saw, and maddened by his pain 

Cried in lament again, again: 

"Where is she, dead or torn away, 

Lost, or some hungry giant's prey? 

Or did my darling chance to rove 

For fruit and blossoms though the grove? 

Or has she sought the pool or rill, 

Her pitcher from the wave to fill?" 

His eager eyes on fire with pain 

He roamed about with maddened brain. 



1066 The Ramayana 

Each grove and glade he searched with care, 
He sought, but found no Sita there. 
He wildly rushed from hill to hill; 
From tree to tree, from rill to rill, 
As bitter woe his bosom rent 
Still Rama roamed with fond lament: 
"O sweet Kadamba say has she 
Who loved thy bloom been seen by thee? 
If thou have seen her face most fair, 
Say, gentle tree, I pray thee, where. 
O Bel tree with thy golden fruit 
Round as her breast, no more be mute, 
Where is my radiant darling, gay 
In silk that mocks thy glossy spray? 
O Arjun, say, where is she now 
Who loved to touch thy scented bough? 
Do not thy graceful friend forget, 
But tell me, is she living yet? 
Speak, Basil, thou must surely know, 
For like her limbs thy branches show, — 
Most lovely in thy fair array 
Of twining plant and tender spray. 
Sweet Tila, fairest of the trees, 
Melodious with the hum of bees, 
Where is my darling Sita, tell, — 
The dame who loved thy flowers so well? 
Asoka, act thy gentle part, — 
Named Heartsease, 507 give me what thou art, 
To these sad eyes my darling show 
And free me from this load of woe. 
O Palm, in rich ripe fruitage dressed 
[301] Round as the beauties of her breast, 



Asoka is compounded of a not and soka grief. 



Canto LXI. Rama's Lament. 1067 

If thou have heart to know and feel, 
My peerless consort's fate reveal. 
Hast thou, Rose-apple, chanced to view 
My darling bright with golden hue? 
If thou have seen her quickly speak, 
Where is the dame I wildly seek? 
O glorious Cassia, thou art gay 
With all thy loveliest bloom to-day, 
Where is my dear who loved to hold 
In her full lap thy flowery gold?" 
To many a tree and plant beside, 
To Jasmin, Mango, Sal, he cried. 
"Say, hast thou seen, O gentle deer, 
The fawn-eyed Sita wandering here? 
It may be that my love has strayed 
To sport with fawns beneath the shade, 
If thou, great elephant, have seen 
My darling of the lovely mien, 
Whose rounded limbs are soft and fine 
As is that lissome trunk of thine, 
O noblest of wild creatures, show 
Where is the dame thou needs must know. 

tiger, hast thou chanced to see 
My darling? very fair is she, 
Cast all thy fear away, declare, 

Where is my moon-faced darling, where? 
There, darling of the lotus eye, 

1 see thee, and 'tis vain to fly, 

Wilt thou not speak, dear love? I see 
Thy form half hidden by the tree. 
Stay if thou love me, Sita, stay 
In pity cease thy heartless play. 
Why mock me now? thy gentle breast 
Was never prone to cruel jest. 



1068 The Ramayana 

Tis vain behind yon bush to steal: 

Thy shimmering silks thy path reveal. 

Fly not, mine eyes pursue thy way; 

For pity's sake, dear Sita, stay. 

Ah me, ah me, my words are vain; 

My gentle love is lost or slain. 

How could her tender bosom spurn 

Her husband on his home-return? 

Ah no, my love is surely dead, 

Fierce giants on her flesh have fed, 

Rending the soft limbs of their prey 

When I her lord was far away. 

That moon-bright face, that polished brow, 

Red lips, bright teeth — what are they now? 

Alas, my darling's shapely neck 

She loved with chains of gold to deck, — 

That neck that mocked the sandal scent, 

The ruthless fiends have grasped and rent. 

Alas, 'twas vain those arms to raise 

Soft as the young tree's tender sprays. 

Ah, dainty meal for giants' lips 

Were arms and quivering finger tips. 

Ah, she who counted many a friend 

Was left for fiends to seize and rend, 

Was left by me without defence 

From ravening giants' violence. 

O Lakshman of the arm of might, 

Say, is my darling love in sight? 

O dearest Sita. where art thou? 

Where is my darling consort now?" 

Thus as he cried in wild lament 
From grove to grove the mourner went, 
Here for a moment sank to rest, 



Canto LXII. Rama's Lament. 1069 

Then started up and onward pressed. 
Thus roaming on like one distraught 
Still for his vanished love he sought, 
He searched in wood and hill and glade, 
By rock and brook and wild cascade. 
Through groves with restless step he sped 
And left no spot unvisited. 
Through lawns and woods of vast extent 
Still searching for his love he went 

With eager steps and fast. 
For many a weary hour he toiled, 
Still in his fond endeavour foiled, 

Yet hoping to the last. 



Canto LXII. Rama's Lament. 



When all the toil and search was vain 
He sought his leafy home again. 
'Twas empty still: all scattered lay 
The seats of grass in disarray. 
He raised his shapely arms on high 
And spoke aloud with bitter cry: 
"Where is the Maithil dame?" he said, 
"O, whither has my darling fled? 
Who can have borne away my dame, 
Or feasted on her tender frame? 
If, Sita hidden by some tree, 
Thou joyest still to mock at me, 
Cease, cease thy cruel sport, and take 
Compassion, or my heart will break. 
Bethink thee, love, the gentle fawns 



1070 The Ramayana 

With whom thou playest on the lawns, 
Impatient for thy coming wait 
With streaming eyes disconsolate. 
Reft of my love, I needs must go 
Hence to the shades weighed down by woe. 
The king our sire will see me there, 
And cry, "O perjured Rama, where, 
Where is thy faith, that thou canst speed 
From exile ere the time decreed?" 

Ah Sita, whither hast thou fled 
And left me here disquieted, 
A hapless mourner, reft of hope, 
Too feeble with my woe to cope? 
E'en thus indignant Glory flies 
The wretch who stains his soul with lies. 
If thou, my love, art lost to view, 
I in my woe must perish too." 

Thus Rama by his grief distraught 
Wept for the wife he vainly sought, 
And Lakshman whose fraternal breast 
[302] Longed for his weal, the chief addressed 

Whose soul gave way beneath the pain 
When all his eager search was vain, 
Like some great elephant who stands 
Sinking upon the treacherous sands: 
"Not yet, O wisest chief, despair; 
Renew thy toil with utmost care. 
This noble hill where trees are green 
Has many a cave and dark ravine. 
The Maithil lady day by day 
Delighted in the woods to stray, 
Deep in the grove she wanders still, 



Canto LXII. Rama's Lament. 1071 

Or walks by blossom-covered rill, 
Or fish-loved river stealing through 
Tall clusters of the dark bamboo. 
Or else the dame with arch design 
To prove thy mood, O Prince, and mine, 
Far in some sheltering thicket lies 
To frighten ere she meet our eyes. 
Then come, renew thy labour, trace 
The lady to her lurking-place, 
And search the wood from side to side 
To know where Sita loves to bide. 
Collect thy thoughts, O royal chief, 
Nor yield to unavailing grief." 

Thus Lakshman, by attention stirred, 
To fresh attempts his brother spurred, 
And Rama, as he ceased, began 
With Lakshman's aid each spot to scan. 
In eager search their way they took 
Through wood, o'er hill, by pool and brook, 
They roamed each mount, nor spared to seek 
On ridge and crag and towering peak. 
They sought the dame in every spot; 
But all in vain; they found her not. 
Above, below, on every side 
They ranged the hill, and Rama cried, 
"O Lakshman, O my brother still 
No trace of Sita on the hill!" 
Then Lakshman as he roamed the wood 
Beside his glorious brother stood, 
And while fierce grief his bosom burned 
This answer to the chief returned: 
"Thou, Rama, after toil and pain 
Wilt meet the Maithil dame again, 



1072 The Ramayana 

As Vishnu, Bali's might subdued, 
His empire of the earth renewed." 508 



Then Rama cried in mournful tone, 
His spirit by his woe o'erthrown; 
"The wood is searched from side to side, 
No distant spot remains untried, 
No lilied pool, no streamlet where 
The lotus buds are fresh and fair. 
Our eyes have searched the hill with all 
His caves and every waterfall, — 
But ah, not yet I find my wife, 
More precious than the breath of life." 



As thus he mourned his vanished dame 
A mighty trembling seized his frame, 
And by o'erpowering grief assailed, 
His troubled senses reeled and failed. 
Too great to bear his misery grew, 
And many a long hot sigh he drew, 
Then as he wept and sobbed and sighed, 
"O Sita, O my love!" he cried. 
Then Lakshman, joining palm to palm, 
Tried every art his woe to calm. 
But Rama in his anguish heard 
Or heeded not one soothing word, 
Still for his spouse he mourned, and shrill 
Rang out his lamentation still. 



Canto LXIII. Rama's Lament. 1073 

Canto LXIII. Rama's Lament. 



Thus for his wife in vain he sought: 
Then, his sad soul with pain distraught, 
The hero of the lotus eyes 
Filled all the air with frantic cries. 
O'erpowered by love's strong influence, he 
His absent wife still seemed to see, 
And thus with accents weak and faint 
Renewed with tears his wild complaint: 



"Thou, fairer than their bloom, my spouse, 
Art hidden by Asoka boughs. 
Those blooms have power to banish care, 
But now they drive me to despair. 
Thine arms are like the plantain's stem: 
Why let the plantain cover them? 
Thou art not hidden, love; thy feet 
Betray thee in thy dark retreat. 
Thou runnest in thy girlish sport 
To flowery trees, thy dear resort. 
But cease, O cease, my love, I pray, 
To vex me with thy cruel play. 
Such mockery in a holy spot 
Where hermits dwell beseems thee not. 
Ah, now I see thy fickle mind 
To scornful mood too much inclined, 
Come, large-eyed beauty, I implore; 
Lone is the cot so dear before. 



1074 The Ramayana 

No, she is slain by giants; they 
Have stolen or devoured their prey, 
Or surely at my mournful cry 
My darling to her lord would fly. 
O Lakshman, see those troops of deer: 
In each sad eye there gleams a tear. 
Those looks of woe too clearly say 
My consort is the giants' prey. 
O noblest, fairest of the fair, 
Where art thou, best of women, where? 
This day will dark Kaikeyi find 
Fresh triumph for her evil mind, 
When I, who with my Sita came 
Return alone, without my dame. 
But ne'er can I return to see 
Those chambers where my queen should be 
[303] And hear the scornful people speak 

Of Rama as a coward weak. 
For mine will be the coward's shame 
Who let the foeman steal his dame. 
How can I seek my home, or brook 
Upon Videha's king to look? 
How listen, when he bids me tell, 
My wanderings o'er, that all is well? 
He, when I meet his eager view, 
Will mark that Sita comes not too, 
And when he hears the mournful tale 
His wildered sense will reel and fail. 
"O Dasaratha" will he cry, 
"Blest in thy mansion in the sky!" 
Ne'er to that town my steps shall bend, 
That town which Bharat's arms defend, 
For e'en the blessed homes above 
Would seem a waste without my love. 



Canto LXIV. Rama's Lament. 1075 

Leave me, my brother, here, I pray; 
To fair Ayodhya bend thy way. 
Without my love I cannot bear 
To live one hour in blank despair. 
Round Bharat's neck thy fond arms twine, 
And greet him with these words of mine: 
"Dear brother, still the power retain, 
And o'er the land as monarch reign." 
With salutation next incline 
Before thy mother, his, and mine. 
Still, brother, to my words attend, 
And with all care each dame befriend. 
To my dear mother's ear relate 
My mournful tale and Sita's fate." 

Thus Rama gave his sorrow vent, 
And from a heart which anguish rent, 
Mourned for his wife in loud lament, — 

Her of the glorious hair, 
From Lakshman's cheek the colour fled, 
And o'er his heart came sudden dread, 
Sick, faint, and sore disquieted 

By woe too great to bear. 



Canto LXIV. Rama's Lament. 

Reft of his love, the royal chief, 

Weighed down beneath his whelming grief, 

Desponding made his brother share 

His grievous burden of despair. 

Over his sinking bosom rolled 

The flood of sorrow uncontrolled. 



1076 The Ramayana 

And as he wept and sighed, 
In mournful accents faint and slow 
With words congenial to his woe, 

To Lakshman thus he cried: 
"Brother, I ween, beneath the sun, 
Of all mankind there lives not one 
So full of sin, whose hand has done 

Such cursed deeds as mine. 
For my sad heart with misery bleeds, 
As, guerdon of those evil deeds, 
Still greater woe to woe succeeds 

In never-ending line. 
A life of sin I freely chose, 
And from my past transgression flows 
A ceaseless flood of bitter woes 

My folly to repay. 
The fruit of sin has ripened fast, 
Through many a sorrow have I passed, 
And now the crowning grief at last 

Falls on my head to-day. 
From all my faithful friends I fled, 
My sire is numbered with the dead, 
My royal rank is forfeited, 

My mother far away. 
These woes on which I sadly think 
Fill, till it raves above the brink, 
The stream of grief in which I sink, — 

The flood which naught can stay. 
Ne'er, brother, ne'er have I complained; 
Though long by toil and trouble pained, 
Without a murmur I sustained 

The woes of woodland life. 
But fiercer than the flames that rise 



Canto LXIV. Rama's Lament. 1077 

When crackling wood the food supplies, — 
Flashing a glow through evening skies, — 

This sorrow for my wife. 
Some cruel fiend has seized the prey 
And torn my trembling love away, 
While, as he bore her through the skies, 
She shrieked aloud with frantic cries, 
In tones of fear which, wild and shrill, 
Retained their native sweetness still. 
Ah me, that breast so soft and sweet, 
For sandal's precious perfume meet, 
Now all detained with dust and gore, 
Shall meet my fond caress no more. 
That face, whose lips with tones so clear 
Made pleasant music, sweet to hear, — 
With soft locks plaited o'er the brow, — 
Some giant's hand is on it now. 
It smiles not, as the dear light fails 
When Rahu's jaw the moon assails. 
Ah, my true love! that shapely neck 
She loved with fairest chains to deck, 
The cruel demons rend, and drain 
The lifeblood from each mangled vein. 
Ah, when the savage monsters came 
And dragged away the helpless dame, 
The lady of the long soft eye 
Called like a lamb with piteous cry. 
Beneath this rock, O Lakshman, see, 
My peerless consort sat with me, 
And gently talked to thee the while, 
Her sweet lips opening with a smile. 
Here is that fairest stream which she 
Loved ever, bright Godavari. 
Ne'er can the dame have passed this way: 



1078 The Ramayana 

So far alone she would not stray, 
Nor has my darling, lotus-eyed, 
Sought lilies by the river's side, 
[304] For without me she ne'er would go 

To streamlets where the wild flowers grow, 
Tell me not, brother, she has strayed 
To the dark forest's distant shade 
Where blooming boughs are gay and sweet, 
And bright birds love the cool retreat. 
Alone my love would never dare, — 
My timid love, — to wander there. 

O Lord of Day whose eye sees all 
We act and plan, on thee I call: 
For naught is hidden from thy sight, — 
Great witness thou of wrong and right. 
Where is she, lost or torn away? 
Dispel my torturing doubt and say. 
And O thou Wind who blowest free, 
The worlds have naught concealed from thee. 
List to my prayer, reveal one trace 
Of her, the glory of her race. 
Say, is she stolen hence, or dead, 
Or do her feet the forest tread?" 

Thus with disordered senses, faint 
With woe he poured his sad complaint, 
And then, a better way to teach, 
Wise Lakshman spoke in seemly speech: 
"Up, brother dear, thy grief subdue, 
With heart and soul thy search renew. 
When woes oppress and dangers threat 
Brave effort ne'er was fruitless yet." 



Canto LXV. Rama's Wrath. 1079 

He spoke, but Rama gave no heed 
To valiant Lakshman's prudent rede. 
With double force the flood of pain 
Rushed o'er his yielding soul again. 



Canto LXV. Rama's Wrath. 



With piteous voice, by woe subdued, 
Thus Raghu's son his speech renewed: 



"Thy steps, my brother, quickly turn 
To bright Godavari and learn 
If Sita to the stream have hied 
To cull the lilies on its side." 



Obedient to the words he said, 
His brother to the river sped. 
The shelving banks he searched in vain, 
And then to Rama turned again. 

"I searched, but found her not," he cried; 
"I called aloud, but none replied. 
Where can the Maithil lady stray, 
Whose sight would chase our cares away? 
I know not where, her steps untraced, 
Roams Sita of the dainty waist." 



1080 The Ramayana 

When Rama heard the words he spoke 
Again he sank beneath the stroke, 
And with a bosom anguish-fraught 
Himself the lovely river sought. 
There standing on the shelving side, 
"O Sita, where art thou?" he cried. 
No spirit voice an answer gave, 
No murmur from the trembling wave 
Of sweet Godavari declared 
The outrage which the fiend had dared. 
"O speak!" the pitying spirits cried, 
But yet the stream their prayer denied, 
Nor dared she, coldly mute, relate 
To the sad chief his darling's fate 
Of Ravan's awful form she thought, 
And the dire deed his arm had wrought, 
And still withheld by fear dismayed, 
The tale for which the mourner prayed. 
When hope was none, his heart to cheer, 
That the bright stream his cry would hear 
While sorrow for his darling tore 
His longing soul he spake once more: 
"Though I have sought with tears and sighs 
Godarvari no word replies, 
O say, what answer can I frame 
To Janak, father of my dame? 
Or how before her mother stand 
Leading no Sita by the hand? 
Where is my loyal love who went 
Forth with her lord to banishment? 
Her faith to me she nobly held 
Though from my realm and home expelled, — 
A hermit, nursed on woodland fare, — 
She followed still and soothed my care. 



Canto LXV. Rama's Wrath. 1081 

Of all my friends am I bereft, 

Nor is my faithful consort left. 

How slowly will the long nights creep 

While comfortless I wake and weep ! 

O, if my wife may yet be found, 

With humble love I'll wander round 

This Janasthan, Prasravan's hill, 

Mandakinfs delightful rill. 

See how the deer with gentle eyes 

Look on my face and sympathize. 

I mark their soft expression: each 

Would soothe me, if it could, with speech." 



A while the anxious throng he eyed. 
And "Where is Sita, where?" he cried. 
Thus while hot tears his utterance broke 
The mourning son of Raghu spoke. 
The deer in pity for his woes 
Obeyed the summons and arose. 
Upon his right thy stood, and raised 
Their sad eyes up to heaven and gazed 
Each to that quarter bent her look 
Which Ravan with his captive took. 
Then Raghu's son again they viewed, 
And toward that point their way pursued. 
Then Lakshman watched their looks intent 
As moaning on their way they went, 
And marked each sign which struck his sense 
With mute expressive influence, 
Then as again his sorrow woke 
Thus to his brother chief he spoke: 
"Those deer thy eager question heard [305] 



1082 The Ramayana 

And rose at once by pity stirred: 

See, in thy search their aid they lend, 

See, to the south their looks they bend. 

Arise, dear brother, let us go 

The way their eager glances show, 

If haply sign or trace descried 

Our footsteps in the search may guide." 

The son of Raghu gave assent, 
And quickly to the south they went; 
With eager eyes the earth he scanned, 
And Lakshman followed close at hand. 
As each to other spake his thought, 
And round with anxious glances sought, 
Scattered before them in the way, 
Blooms of a fallen garland lay. 
When Rama saw that flowery rain 
He spoke once more with bitterest pain: 
"O Lakshman every flower that lies 
Here on the ground I recognize. 
I culled them in the grove, and there 
My darling twined them in her hair. 
The sun, the earth, the genial breeze 
Have spared these flowers my soul to please." 

Then to that woody hill he prayed, 
Whence flashed afar each wild cascade: 
"O best of mountains, hast thou seen 
A dame of perfect form and mien 
In some sweet spot with trees o'ergrown, — 
My darling whom I left alone?" 
Then as a lion threats a deer 
He thundered with a voice of fear: 
"Reveal her, mountain, to my view 



Canto LXV. Rama's Wrath. 1083 

With golden limbs and golden hue. 
Where is my darling Sita? speak 
Before I rend thee peak from peak." 

The mountain seemed her track to show, 
But told not all he sought to know. 
Then Dasaratha's son renewed 
His summons as the mount he viewed: 
"Soon as my flaming arrows fly, 
Consumed to ashes shall thou lie 
Without a herb or bud or tree, 
And birds no more shall dwell in thee. 
And if this stream my prayer deny, 
My wrath this day her flood shall dry, 
Because she lends no aid to trace 
My darling of the lotus face." 

Thus Rama spake as though his ire 
Would scorch them with his glance of fire; 
Then searching farther on the ground 
The footprint of a fiend he found, 
And small light traces here and there, 
Where Sita in her great despair, 
Shrieking for Rama's help, had fled 
Before the giant's mighty tread. 
His careful eye each trace surveyed 
Which Sita and the fiend had made, — 
The quivers and the broken bow 
And ruined chariot of the foe, — 
And told, distraught by fear and grief, 
His tidings to his brother chief: 
"O Lakshman, here," he cried "behold 
My Sita's earrings dropped with gold. 
Here lie her garlands torn and rent, 



1084 The Ramayana 

Here lies each glittering ornament. 

O look, the ground on every side 

With blood-like drops of gold is dyed. 

The fiends who wear each strange disguise 

Have seized, I ween, the helpless prize. 

My lady, by their hands o'erpowered, 

Is slaughtered, mangled, and devoured. 

Methinks two fearful giants came 

And waged fierce battle for the dame. 

Whose, Lakshman, was this mighty bow 

With pearls and gems in glittering row? 

Cast to the ground the fragments lie, 

And still their glory charms the eye. 

A bow so mighty sure was planned 

For heavenly God or giant's hand. 

Whose was this coat of golden mail 

Which, though its lustre now is pale, 

Shone like the sun of morning, bright 

With studs of glittering lazulite? 

Whose, Lakshman, was this bloom-wreathed shade 

With all its hundred ribs displayed? 

This screen, most meet for royal brow, 

With broken staff lies useless now. 

And these tall asses, goblin-faced, 

With plates of golden harness graced, 

Whose hideous forms are stained with gore 

Who is the lord whose yoke they bore? 

Whose was this pierced and broken car 

That shoots a flame-like blaze afar? 

Whose these spent shafts at random spread, 

Each fearful with its iron head, — 

With golden mountings fair to see, 

Long as a chariot's axle-tree? 

These quivers see, which, rent in twain, 



Canto LXV. Rama's Wrath. 1085 

Their sheaves of arrows still contain. 

Whose was this driver? Dead and cold, 

His hands the whip and reins still hold. 

See, Lakshman, here the foot I trace 

Of man, nay, one of giant race. 

The hatred that I nursed of old 

Grows mightier now a hundred fold 

Against these giants, fierce of heart, 

Who change their forms by magic art. 

Slain, eaten by the giant press, 

Or stolen is the votaress, 

Nor could her virtue bring defence 

To Sita seized and hurried hence. 

O, if my love be slain or lost 

All hope of bliss for me is crossed. 

The power of all the worlds were vain 

To bring one joy to soothe my pain. 

The spirits with their blinded eyes 

Would look in wonder, and despise 

The Lord who made the worlds, the great 

Creator when compassionate. 

And so, I ween, the Immortals turn 

Cold eyes upon me now, and spurn [306] 

The weakling prompt at pity's call, 

Devoted to the good of all. 

But from this day behold me changed, 

From every gentle grace estranged. 

Now be it mine all life to slay, 

And sweep these cursed fiends away. 

As the great sun leaps up the sky, 

And the cold moonbeams fade and die, 

So vengeance rises in my breast, 

One passion conquering all the rest. 

Gandharvas in their radiant place, 



1086 The Ramayana 

The Yakshas, and the giant race, 
Kinnars and men shall look in vain 
For joy they ne'er shall see again. 
The anguish of my great despair, 

Lakshman, fills the heaven and air; 
And I in wrath all life will slay 
Within the triple world to-day. 
Unless the Gods in heaven who dwell 
Restore my Sita safe and well, 

1 armed with all the fires of Fate, 
The triple world will devastate. 

The troubled stars from heaven shall fall, 
The moon be wrapped in gloomy pall, 
The fire be quenched, the wind be stilled, 
The radiant sun grow dark and chilled; 
Crushed every mountain's towering pride, 
And every lake and river dried, 
Dead every creeper, plant, and tree, 
And lost for aye the mighty sea. 
Thou shalt the world this day behold 
In wild disorder uncontrolled, 
With dying life which naught defends 
From the fierce storm my bowstring sends. 
My shafts this day, for Sita's sake, 
The life of every fiend shall take. 
The Gods this day shall see the force 
That wings my arrows on their course, 
And mark how far that course is held, 
By my unsparing wrath impelled. 
No God, not one of Daitya strain, 
Goblin or Rakshas shall remain. 
My wrath shall end the worlds, and all 
Demons and Gods therewith shall fall. 
Each world which Gods, the Danav race, 



Canto LXV. Rama's Wrath. 1087 

And giants make their dwelling place, 
Shall fall beneath my arrows sent 
In fury when my bow is bent. 
The arrows loosened from my string 
Confusion on the worlds shall bring. 
For she is lost or breathes no more, 
Nor will the Gods my love restore. 
Hence all on earth with life and breath 
This day I dedicate to death. 
All, till my darling they reveal, 
The fury of my shafts shall feel." 



Thus as he spake by rage impelled, 
Red grew his eyes, his fierce lips swelled. 
His bark coat round his form he drew 
And coiled his hermit braids anew, 
Like Rudra when he yearned to slay 
The demon Tripur 509 in the fray. 
So looked the hero brave and wise, 
The fury flashing from his eyes. 
Then Rama, conqueror of the foe, 
From Lakshman's hand received his bow, 
Strained the great string, and laid thereon 
A deadly dart that flashed and shone, 
And spake these words as fierce in ire 
As He who ends the worlds with fire: 



509 An Asur or demon, king of Tripura, the modern Tipperah. 



1088 The Ramayana 

"As age and time and death and fate 
All life with checkless power await, 
So Lakshman in my wrath to-day 
My vengeful might shall brook no stay, 
Unless this day I see my dame 
In whose sweet form is naught to blame, — 
Yea, as before, my love behold 
Fair with bright teeth and perfect mould, 
This world shall feel a deadly blow 
Destroyed with ruthless overthrow, 
And serpent lords and Gods of air, 
Gandharvas, men, the doom shall share." 



Canto LXVI. Lakshman's Speech. 



He stood incensed with eyes of flame, 

Still mourning for his ravished dame, 

Determined, like the fire of Fate, 

To leave the wide world desolate. 

His ready bow the hero eyed, 

And as again, again he sighed, 

The triple world would fain consume 

Like Hara 510 in the day of doom. 

Then Lakshman moved with sorrow viewed 

His brother in unwonted mood, 

And reverent palm to palm applied, 

Thus spoke with lips which terror dried 

"Thy heart was ever soft and kind, 

To every creature's good inclined. 



Canto LXVI. Lakshman's Speech. 1089 

Cast not thy tender mood away, 

Nor yield to anger's mastering sway. 

The moon for gentle grace is known, 

The sun has splendour all his own, 

The restless wind is free and fast, 

And earth in patience unsurpassed. 

So glory with her noble fruit 

Is thine eternal attribute. 

O, let not, for the sin of one, 

The triple world be all undone. 

I know not whose this car that lies 

In fragments here before our eyes, 

Nor who the chiefs who met and fought, 

Nor what the prize the foemen sought; 

Who marked the ground with hoof and wheel, [307] 

Or whose the hand that plied the steel 

Which left this spot, the battle o'er, 

Thus sadly dyed with drops of gore. 

Searching with utmost care I view 

The signs of one and not of two. 

Where'er I turn mine eyes I trace 

No mighty host about the place. 

Then mete not out for one offence 

This all-involving recompense. 

For kings should use the sword they bear, 

But mild in time should learn to spare, 

Thou, ever moved by misery's call, 

Wast the great hope and stay of all. 

Throughout this world who would not blame 

This outrage on thy ravished dame? 

Gandharvas, Danavs, Gods, the trees, 

The rocks, the rivers, and the seas, 

Can ne'er in aught thy soul offend, 

As one whom holiest rites befriend. 



1090 The Ramayana 

But him who dared to steal the dame 

Pursue, O King, with ceaseless aim, 

With me, the hermits' holy band, 

And thy great bow to arm thy hand 

By every mighty flood we'll seek, 

Each wood, each hill from base to peak. 

To the fair homes of Gods we'll fly, 

And bright Gandharvas in the sky, 

Until we reach, where'er he be, 

The wretch who stole thy spouse from thee. 

Then if the Gods will not restore 

Thy Sita when the search is o'er, 

Then, royal lord of Kosal's land, 

No longer hold thy vengeful hand. 

If meekness, prayer, and right be weak 

To bring thee back the dame we seek, 

Up, brother, with a deadly shower 

Of gold-bright shafts thy foes o'erpower, 

Fierce as the flashing levin sent 

From King Mahendra's firmament. 



Canto LXVII. Rama Appeased. 

As Rama, pierced by sorrow's sting, 
Lamented like a helpless thing, 
And by his mighty woe distraught 
Was lost in maze of troubled thought, 
Sumitra's son with loving care 
Consoled him in his wild despair, 
And while his feet he gently pressed 
With words like these the chief addressed: 



Canto LXVII. Rama Appeased. 1091 

"For sternest vow and noblest deed 

Was Dasaratha blessed with seed. 

Thee for his son the king obtained, 

Like Amrit by the Gods regained. 

Thy gentle graces won his heart, 

And all too weak to live apart 

The monarch died, as Bharat told, 

And lives on high mid Gods enrolled. 

If thou, O Rama, wilt not bear 

This grief which fills thee with despair, 

How shall a weaker man e'er hope, 

Infirm and mean, with woe to cope? 

Take heart, I pray thee, noblest chief: 

What man who breathes is free from grief? 

Misfortunes come and burn like flame, 

Then fly as quickly as they came. 

Yayati son of Nahush reigned 

With Indra on the throne he gained. 

But falling for a light offence 

He mourned a while the consequence. 

Vasishtha, reverend saint and sage, 

Priest of our sire from youth to age, 

Begot a hundred sons, but they 

Were smitten in a single day. 511 

And she, the queen whom all revere, 

The mother whom we hold so dear, 

The earth herself not seldom feels 

Fierce fever when she shakes and reels. 

And those twin lights, the world's great eyes, 

On which the universe relies, — 

Does not eclipse at times assail 

Their brilliance till their fires grow pale? 



1092 The Ramayana 

The mighty Powers, the Immortal Blest 

Bend to a law which none contest. 

No God, no bodied life is free 

From conquering Fate's supreme decree. 

E'en Sakra's self must reap the meed 

Of virtue and of sinful deed. 

And O great lord of men, wilt thou 

Helpless beneath thy misery bow? 

No, if thy dame be lost or dead, 

hero, still be comforted, 
Nor yield for ever to thy woe 
O'ermastered like the mean and low. 
Thy peers, with keen far-reaching eyes, 
Spend not their hours in ceaseless sighs; 
In dire distress, in whelming ill 

Their manly looks are hopeful still. 
To this, great chief, thy reason bend, 
And earnestly the truth perpend. 
By reason's aid the wisest learn 
The good and evil to discern. 
With sin and goodness scarcely known 
Faint light by chequered lives is shown; 
Without some clear undoubted deed 
We mark not how the fruits succeed. 
In time of old, O thou most brave, 
To me thy lips such counsel gave. 
Vrihaspati 512 can scarcely find 
New wisdom to instruct thy mind. 
For thine is wit and genius high 
Meet for the children of the sky. 

1 rouse that heart benumbed by pain 
And call to vigorous life again. 



512 The preceptor of the Gods. 



Canto LXVIII. Jatayus. 1093 

Be manly godlike vigour shown; 

Put forth that noblest strength, thine own. [308] 

Strive, best of old Ikshvaku's strain, 

Strive till the conquered foe be slain. 

Where is the profit or the joy 

If thy fierce rage the worlds destroy? 

Search till thou find the guilty foe, 

Then let thy hand no mercy show." 



Canto LXVIII. Jatayus. 



Thus faithful Lakshman strove to cheer 
The prince with counsel wise and clear. 
Who, prompt to seize the pith of all, 
Let not that wisdom idly fall. 
With vigorous effort he restrained 
The passion in his breast that reigned, 
And leaning on his bow for rest 
His brother Lakshman thus addressed: 
"How shall we labour now, reflect; 
Whither again our search direct? 
Brother, what plan canst thou devise 
To bring her to these longing eyes?" 



1094 The Ramayana 

To him by toil and sorrow tried 
The prudent Lakshman thus replied: 
"Come, though our labour yet be vain, 
And search through Janasthan again, — 
A realm where giant foes abound, 
And trees and creepers hide the ground. 
For there are caverns deep and dread, 
By deer and wild birds tenanted, 
And hills with many a dark abyss, 
Grotto and rock and precipice. 
There bright Gandharvas love to dwell, 
And Kinnars in each bosky dell. 
With me thy eager search to aid 
Be every hill and cave surveyed. 
Great chiefs like thee, the best of men, 
Endowed with sense and piercing ken, 
Though tried by trouble never fail, 
Like rooted hills that mock the gale." 



Then Rama, pierced by anger's sting, 
Laid a keen arrow on his string, 
And by the faithful Lakshman' s side 
Roamed through the forest far and wide. 
Jatayus there with blood-drops dyed, 
Lying upon the ground he spied, 
Huge as a mountain's shattered crest, 
Mid all the birds of air the best. 
In wrath the mighty bird he eyed, 
And thus the chief to Lakshman cried: 



Canto LXVIII. Jatayus. 1095 

"Ah me, these signs the truth betray; 
My darling was the vulture's prey. 
Some demon in the bird's disguise 
Roams through the wood that round us lies. 
On large-eyed Sita he has fed, 
And rests him now with wings outspread. 
But my keen shafts whose flight is true, 
Shall pierce the ravenous monster through." 

An arrow on the string he laid, 
And rushing near the bird surveyed, 
While earth to ocean's distant side 
Trembled beneath his furious stride. 
With blood and froth on neck and beak 
The dying bird essayed to speak, 
And with a piteous voice, distressed, 
Thus Dasaratha's son addressed: 

"She whom like some sweet herb of grace 
Thou seekest in this lonely place, 
Fair lady, is fierce Ravan's prey, 
Who took, beside, my life away. 
Lakshman and thou had parted hence 
And left the dame without defence. 
I saw her swiftly borne away 
By Ravan's might which none could stay. 
I hurried to the lady's aid, 
I crushed his car and royal shade, 
And putting forth my warlike might 
Hurled Ravan to the earth in fight. 
Here, Rama, lies his broken bow, 
Here lie the arrows of the foe. 
There on the ground before thee are 
The fragments of his battle car. 



1096 The Ramayana 

There bleeds the driver whom my wings 
Beat down with ceaseless buffetings. 
When toil my aged strength subdued, 
His sword my weary pinions hewed. 
Then lifting up the dame he bare 
His captive through the fields of air. 
Thy vengeful blows from me restrain, 
Already by the giant slain." 

When Rama heard the vulture tell 
The tale that proved his love so well, 
His bow upon the ground he placed, 
And tenderly the bird embraced: 
Then to the earth he fell o'erpowered, 
And burning tears both brothers showered, 
For double pain and anguish pressed 
Upon the patient hero's breast. 
The solitary bird he eyed 
Who in the lone wood gasped and sighed, 
And as again his anguish woke 
Thus Rama to his brother spoke: 

"Expelled from power the woods I tread, 
My spouse is lost, the bird is dead. 
A fate so sad, I ween, would tame 
The vigour of the glorious flame. 
If I to cool my fever tried 
To cross the deep from side to side, 
The sea, — so hard my fate, — would dry 
His waters as my feet came nigh. 
In all this world there lives not one 
So cursed as I beneath the sun; 
So strong a net of misery cast 
Around me holds the captive fast, 



Canto LXIX. The Death Of Jatayus. 1097 

Best of all birds that play the wing, 
Loved, honoured by our sire the king, 
The vulture, in my fate enwound, 
Lies bleeding, dying on the ground." 



Then Rama and his brother stirred [309] 

By pity mourned the royal bird, 
And, as their hands his limbs caressed, 
Affection for a sire expressed. 
And Rama to his bosom strained 
The bird with mangled wings distained, 

With crimson blood-drops dyed. 
He fell, and shedding many a tear, 
"Where is my spouse than life more dear? 

Where is my love?" he cried. 



Canto LXIX. The Death Of Jatayus. 



As Rama viewed with heart-felt pain 
The vulture whom the fiend had slain, 
In words with tender love impressed 
His brother chief he thus addressed: 



1098 The Ramayana 

"This royal bird with faithful thought 
For my advantage strove and fought. 
Slain by the fiend in mortal strife 
For me he yields his noble life. 
See, Lakshman, how his wounds have bled; 
His struggling breath will soon have fled. 
Faint is his voice, and near to die, 
He scarce can lift his trembling eye. 
Jatayus, if thou still can speak, 
Give, give the answer that I seek. 
The fate of ravished Sita tell, 
And how thy mournful chance befell. 
Say why the giant stole my dame: 
What have I done that he could blame? 
What fault in me has Ravan seen 
That he should rob me of my queen? 
How looked the lady's moon-bright cheek? 
What were the words she found to speak? 
His strength, his might, his deeds declare: 
And tell the form he loves to wear. 
To all my questions make reply: 
Where does the giant's dwelling lie?" 

The noble bird his glances bent 
On Rama as he made lament, 
And in low accents faint and weak 
With anguish thus began to speak: 
"Fierce Ravan, king of giant race, 
Stole Sita from thy dwelling-place. 
He calls his magic art to aid 
With wind and cloud and gloomy shade. 
When in the fight my power was spent 
My wearied wings he cleft and rent. 
Then round the dame his arms he threw, 



Canto LXIX. The Death Of Jatayus. 1099 

And to the southern region flew. 
O Raghu's son, I gasp for breath, 
My swimming sight is dim in death. 
E'en now before my vision pass 
Bright trees of gold with hair of grass, 
The hour the impious robber chose 
Brings on the thief a flood of woes. 
The giant in his haste forgot 
'Twas Vinda's hour, 513 or heeded not. 
Those robbed at such a time obtain 
Their plundered store and wealth again. 
He, like a fish that takes the bait, 
In briefest time shall meet his fate. 
Now be thy troubled heart controlled 
And for thy lady's loss consoled, 
For thou wilt slay the fiend in fight 
And with thy dame have new delight." 

With senses clear, though sorely tried, 
The royal vulture thus replied, 
While as he sank beneath his pain 
Forth rushed the tide of blood again. 
"Him, 514 brother of the Lord of Gold, 
Visravas' self begot of old." 
Thus spoke the bird, and stained with gore 
Resigned the breath that came no more. 

"Speak, speak again!" thus Rama cried, 
With reverent palm to palm applied, 
But from the frame the spirit fled 
And to the skiey regions sped. 
The breath of life had passed away. 
Stretched on the ground the body lay. 



1 1 00 The Ramayana 

When Rama saw the vulture lie, 
Huge as a hill, with darksome eye, 
With many a poignant woe distressed 
His brother chief he thus addressed: 
"Amid these haunted shades content 
Full many a year this bird has spent. 
His life in home of giants passed, 
In Dan dak wood he dies at last. 
The years in lengthened course have fled 
Untroubled o'er the vulture's head, 
And now he lies in death, for none 
The stern decrees of Fate may shun. 
See, Lakshman, how the vulture fell 
While for my sake he battled well. 
And strove to free with onset bold 
My Sita from the giant's hold. 
Supreme amid the vulture kind 
His ancient rule the bird resigned, 
And conquered in the fruitless strife 
Gave for my sake his noble life. 
O Lakshman, many a time we see 
Great souls who keep the law's decree, 
With whom the weak sure refuge find, 
In creatures of inferior kind. 
The loss of her, my darling queen, 
Strikes with a pang less fiercely keen 
Than now this slaughtered bird to see 
Who nobly fought and died for me. 
As Dasaratha, good and great, 
Was glorious in his high estate, 
Honoured by all, to all endeared, 
So was this royal bird revered. 
Bring fuel for the funeral rite: 
[310] These hands the solemn fire shall light 



Canto LXIX. The Death Of Jatayus. 1101 

And on the burning pyre shall lay 
The bird who died for me to-day. 
Now on the gathered wood shall lie 
The lord of all the birds that fly, 
And I will burn with honours due 
My champion whom the giant slew. 
O royal bird of noblest heart, 
Graced with all funeral rites depart 
To bright celestial seats above, 
Rewarded for thy faithful love. 
Dwell in thy happy home with those 
Whose constant fires of worship rose. 
Live blest amid the unyielding brave, 
And those who land in largess gave." 

Sore grief upon his bosom weighed 
As on the pyre the bird he laid, 
And bade the kindled flame ascend 
To burn the body of his friend. 
Then with his brother by his side 
The hero to the forest hied. 
There many a stately deer he slew, 
The flesh around the bird to strew. 
The venison into balls he made, 
And on fair grass before him laid. 
Then that the parted soul might rise 
And find free passage to the skies, 
Each solemn word and text he said 
Which Brahmans utter o'er the dead. 
Then hastening went the princely pair 
To bright Godavari, and there 
Libations of the stream they poured 
In honour of the vulture lord, 
With solemn ritual to the slain, 



1102 The Ramayana 

As scripture's holy texts ordain. 
Thus offerings to the bird they gave 
And bathed their bodies in the wave. 

The vulture monarch having wrought 

A hard and glorious feat, 
Honoured by Rama sage in thought, 

Soared to his blissful seat. 
The brothers, when each rite was paid 

To him of birds supreme, 
Their hearts with new-found comfort stayed, 

And turned them from the stream. 
Like sovereigns of celestial race 

Within the wood they came, 
Each pondering the means to trace, 

The captor of the dame. 



Canto LXX. Kabandha. 



When every rite was duly paid 
The princely brothers onward strayed, 
And eager in the lady's quest 
They turned their footsteps to the west. 
Through lonely woods that round them lay 
Ikshvaku's children made their way, 
And armed with bow and shaft and brand 
Pressed onward to the southern land. 
Thick trees and shrubs and creepers grew 
In the wild grove they hurried through. 
Twas dark and drear and hard to pass 
For tangled thorns and matted grass. 



Canto LXX. Kabandha. 1 1 03 

Still onward with a southern course 

They made their way with vigorous force, 

And passing through the mazes stood 

Beyond that vast and fearful wood. 

With toil and hardship yet unspent 

Three leagues from Janasthan they went, 

And speeding on their way at last 

Within the wood of Krauncha 515 passed: 

A fearful forest wild and black 

As some huge pile of cloudy rack, 

Filled with all birds and beasts, where grew 

Bright blooms of every varied hue. 

On Sita bending every thought 

Through all the mighty wood they sought, 

And at the lady's loss dismayed 

Here for a while and there they stayed. 

Then turning farther eastward they 

Pursued three leagues their weary way, 

Passed Krauncha's wood and reached the grove 

Where elephants rejoiced to rove. 

The chiefs that awful wood surveyed 

Where deer and wild birds filled each glade, 

Where scarce a step the foot could take 

For tangled shrub and tree and brake. 

There in a mountain's woody side 

A cave the royal brothers spied, 

With dread abysses deep as hell, 

Where darkness never ceased to dwell. 

When, pressing on, the lords of men 

Stood near the entrance of the den, 

They saw within the dark recess 

A huge misshapen giantess; 



1104 The Ramayana 

A thing the timid heart that shook 
With fearful shape and savage look. 
Terrific fiend, her voice was fierce, 
Long were her teeth to rend and pierce. 
The monster gorged her horrid feast 
Of flesh of many a savage beast, 
While her long locks, at random flung, 
Dishevelled o'er her shoulders hung. 
Their eyes the royal brothers raised, 
And on the fearful monster gazed. 
Forth from her den she came and glanced 
At Lakshman as he first advanced, 
Her eager arms to hold him spread, 
And "Come and be my love" she said, 
Then as she held him to her breast, 
The prince in words like these addressed: 
"Behold thy treasure fond and fair: 
[3ii] Ayomukhi 516 the name I bear. 

In thickets of each lofty hill, 
On islets of each brook and rill, 
With me delighted shalt thou play, 
And live for many a lengthened day." 

Enraged he heard the monster woo; 
His ready sword he swiftly drew, 
And the sharp steel that quelled his foes 
Cut through her breast and ear and nose. 
Thus mangled by his vengeful sword 
In rage and pain the demon roared, 
And hideous with her awful face 
Sped to her secret dwelling place. 
Soon as the fiend had fled from sight, 
The brothers, dauntless in their might, 



Canto LXX. Kabandha. 1 1 05 

Reached a wild forest dark and dread 
Whose tangled ways were hard to tread. 
Then bravest Lakshman, virtuous youth, 
The friend of purity and truth, 
With reverent palm to palm applied 
Thus to his glorious brother cried: 

"My arm presaging throbs amain, 
My troubled heart is sick with pain, 
And cheerless omens ill portend 
Where'er my anxious eyes I bend. 
Dear brother, hear my words: advance 
Resolved and armed for every chance, 
For every sign I mark to-day 
Foretells a peril in the way. 
This bird of most ill-omened note, 
Loud screaming with discordant throat, 
Announces with a warning cry 
That strife and victory are nigh." 

Then as the chiefs their search pursued 
Throughout the dreary solitude, 
They heard amazed a mighty sound 
That broke the very trees around, 
As though a furious tempest passed 
Crushing the wood beneath its blast. 
Then Rama raised his trusty sword, 
And both the hidden cause explored. 
There stood before their wondering eyes 
A fiend broad-chested, huge of size. 
A vast misshapen trunk they saw 
In height surpassing nature's law. 
It stood before them dire and dread 
Without a neck, without a head. 



1106 The Ramayana 

Tall as some hill aloft in air, 
Its limbs were clothed with bristling hair, 
And deep below the monster's waist 
His vast misshapen mouth was placed. 
His form was huge, his voice was loud 
As some dark-tinted thunder cloud. 
Forth from his ample chest there came 
A brilliance as of gushing flame. 
Beneath long lashes, dark and keen 
The monster's single eye was seen. 
Deep in his chest, long, fiercely bright, 
It glittered with terrific light. 
He swallowed down his savage fare 
Of lion, bird, and slaughtered bear, 
And with huge teeth exposed to view 
O'er his great lips his tongue he drew. 
His arms unshapely, vast and dread, 
A league in length, he raised and spread. 
He seized with monstrous hands a herd 
Of deer and many a bear and bird. 
Among them all he picked and chose, 
Drew forward these, rejected those. 
Before the princely pair he stood 
Barring their passage through the wood. 
A league of shade the chiefs had passed 
When on the fiend their eyes they cast. 
A monstrous shape without a head 
With mighty arms before him spread, 
They saw that hideous trunk appear 
That struck the trembling eye with fear. 
Then, stretching to their full extent 
His awful arms with fingers bent, 
Round Raghu's princely sons he cast 
Each grasping limb and held them fast. 



Canto LXX. Kabandha. 1 107 

Though strong of arm and fierce in fight, 
Each armed with bow and sword to smite, 
The royal brothers, brave and bold, 
Were helpless in the giant's hold. 
Then Raghu's son, heroic still, 
Felt not a pang his bosom thrill; 
But young, with no protection near, 
His brother's heart was sad with fear, 
And thus with trembling tongue he said 
To Rama, sore disquieted: 

"Ah me, ah me, my days are told: 
O see me in the giant's hold. 
Fly, son of Raghu, swiftly flee, 
And thy dear self from danger free. 
Me to the fiend an offering give; 
Fly at thine ease thyself and live. 
Thou, great Kakutstha's son, I ween, 
Wilt find ere long thy Maithil queen, 
And when thou holdest, throned again, 
Thine old hereditary reign, 
With servants prompt to do thy will, 
O think upon thy brother still." 
As thus the trembling Lakshman cried, 
The dauntless Rama thus replied: 
"Brother, from causeless dread forbear. 
A chief like thee should scorn despair." 
He spoke to soothe his wild alarm: 
Then fierce Kabandha 517 long of arm, 
Among the Danavs 518 first and best, 
The sons of Raghu thus addressed: 



518 A class of mythological giants. In the Epic period they were probably 
personifications of the aborigines of India. 



1108 The Ramayana 

"What men are you, whose shoulders show 
Broad as a bull's, with sword and bow, 
Who roam this dark and horrid place, 
Brought by your fate before my face? 
Declare by what occasion led 
These solitary wilds you tread, 
[312] With swords and bows and shafts to pierce, 

Like bulls whose horns are strong and fierce. 
Why have you sought this forest land 
Where wild with hunger's pangs I stand? 
Now as your steps my path have crossed 
Esteem your lives already lost." 



The royal brothers heard with dread 
The words which fierce Kabandha said. 
And Rama to his brother cried, 
Whose cheek by blanching fear was dried: 



"Alas, we fall, O valiant chief, 
From sorrow into direr grief, 
Still mourning her I hold so dear 
We see our own destruction near. 
Mark, brother, mark what power has time 
O'er all that live, in every clime. 
Now, lord of men, thyself and me 
Involved in fatal danger see. 
'Tis not, be sure, the might of Fate 
That crushes all with deadly weight. 
Ne'er can the brave and strong, who know 
The use of spear and sword and bow, 
The force of conquering time withstand, 
But fall like barriers built of sand." 



Canto LXXI. Kabandha's Speech. 1 109 

Thus in calm strength which naught could shake 
The son of Dasaratha spake, 

With glory yet unstained 
Upon Sumitra's son he bent 
His eyes, and firm in his intent 

His dauntless heart maintained. 



Canto LXXI. Kabandha's Speech. 



Kabandha saw each chieftain stand 
Imprisoned by his mighty hand, 
Which like a snare around him pressed 
And thus the royal pair addressed: 
"Why, warriors, are your glances bent 
On me whom hungry pangs torment? 
Why stand with wildered senses? Fate 
Has brought you now my maw to sate." 



When Lakshman heard, a while appalled, 
His ancient courage he recalled, 
And to his brother by his side 
With seasonable counsel cried: 



1110 The Ramayana 

"This vilest of the giant race 
Will draw us to his side apace. 
Come, rouse thee; let the vengeful sword 
Smite off his arms, my honoured lord. 
This awful giant, vast of size, 
On his huge strength of arm relies, 
And o'er the world victorious, thus 
With mighty force would slaughter us. 
But in cold blood to slay, O King, 
Discredit on the brave would bring, 
As when some victim in the rite 
Shuns not the hand upraised to smite." 

The monstrous fiend, to anger stirred, 
The converse of the brothers heard. 
His horrid mouth he opened wide 
And drew the princes to his side. 
They, skilled due time and place to note 
Unsheathed their glittering swords and smote, 
Till from the giant's shoulders they 
Had hewn the mighty arms away. 
His trenchant falchion Rama plied 
And smote him on the better side, 
While valiant Lakshman on the left 
The arm that held him prisoned cleft. 
Then to the earth dismembered fell 
The monster with a hideous yell, 
And like a cloud's his deep roar went 
Through earth and air and firmament. 
Then as the giant's blood flowed fast, 
On his cleft limbs his eye he cast, 
And called upon the princely pair 
Their names and lineage to declare. 
Him then the noble Lakshman, blest 



Canto LXXI. Kabandha's Speech. 1111 

With fortune's favouring marks, addressed, 

And told the fiend his brother's name 

And the high blood of which he came: 

"Ikshvaku's heir here Rama stands, 

Illustrious through a hundred lands. 

I, younger brother of the heir, 

O fiend, the name of Lakshman bear. 

His mother stole his realm away 

And drove him forth in woods to stray. 

Thus through the mighty forest he 

Roamed with his royal wife and me. 

While glorious as a God he made 

His dwelling in the greenwood shade, 

Some giant stole away his dame, 

And seeking her we hither came. 

But tell me who thou art, and why 

With headless trunk that towered so high, 

With flaming face beneath thy chest, 

Thou liest crushed in wild unrest." 



He heard the words that Lakshman spoke, 
And memory in his breast awoke, 
Recalling Indra's words to mind 
He spoke in gentle tones and kind: 
"O welcome best of men, are ye 
Whom, blest by fate, this day I see. 
A blessing on each trenchant blade 
That low on earth these arms has laid! 
Thou, lord of men, incline thine ear 
The story of my woe to hear, 
While I the rebel pride declare 
Which doomed me to the form I wear." 



1112 The Ramayana 

Canto LXXII. Kabandha's Tale. 

"Lord of the mighty arm, of yore 
A shape transcending thought I wore, 
And through the triple world's extent 
[313] My fame for might and valour went. 

Scarce might the sun and moon on high, 
Scarce Sakra, with my beauty vie. 
Then for a time this form I took, 
And the great world with trembling shook. 
The saints in forest shades who dwelt 
The terror of my presence felt. 
But once I stirred to furious rage 
Great Sthulasiras, glorious sage. 
Culling in woods his hermit food 
My hideous shape with fear he viewed. 
Then forth his words of anger burst 
That bade me live a thing accursed: 
"Thou, whose delight is others' pain, 
This grisly form shalt still retain." 

Then when I prayed him to relent 
And fix some term of punishment, — 
Prayed that the curse at length might cease, 
He bade me thus expect release: 
"Let Rama cleave thine arms away 
And on the pyre thy body lay, 
And then shalt thou, set free from doom, 
Thine own fair shape once more assume." 

Lakshman, hear my words: in me 
The world-illustrious Danu see. 

By Indra's curse, subdued in fight, 

1 wear this form which scares the sight. 
By sternest penance long maintained 



Canto LXXII. Kabandha's Tale. 1113 

The mighty Father's grace I gained. 

When length of days the God bestowed, 

With foolish pride my bosom glowed. 

My life, of lengthened years assured, 

I deemed from Sakra's might secured. 

Let by my senseless pride astray 

I challenged Indra to the fray. 

A flaming bolt with many a knot 

With his terrific arm he shot, 

And straight my head and thighs compressed 

Were buried in my bulky chest. 

Deaf to each prayer and piteous call 

He sent me not to Yama's hall. 

"Thy prayers and cries," he said "are vain: 

The Father's word must true remain." 

"But how may lengthened life be spent 

By one the bolt has torn and rent? 

How can I live," I cried, "unfed, 

With shattered face and thighs and head?" 

As thus I spoke his grace to crave, 

Arms each a league in length he gave, 

And opened in my chest beneath 

This mouth supplied with fearful teeth. 

So my huge arms I used to cast 

Round woodland creatures as they passed, 

And fed within the forest here 

On lion, tiger, pard, and deer. 

Then Indra spake to soothe my grief: 

"When Rama and his brother chief 

From thy huge bulk those arms shall cleave, 

Then shall the skies thy soul receive." 

Disguised in this terrific shape 

I let no woodland thing escape, 

And still my longing soul was pleased 



1114 The Ramayana 

Whene'er my arms a victim seized, 

For in these arms I fondly thought 

Would Rama's self at last be caught. 

Thus hoping, toiling many a day 

I yearned to cast my life away, 

And here, my lord, thou standest now: 

Blessings be thine! for none but thou 

Could cleave my arms with trenchant stroke: 

True are the words the hermit spoke. 

Now let me, best of warriors, lend 

My counsel, and thy plans befriend, 

And aid thee with advice in turn 

If thou with fire my corse wilt burn." 

As thus the mighty Danu prayed 
With offer of his friendly aid, 
While Lakshman gazed with anxious eye, 
The virtuous Rama made reply: 
"Lakshman and I through forest shade 
From Janasthan a while had strayed. 
When none was near her, Ravan came 
And bore away my glorious dame, 
The giant's form and size unknown, 
I learn as yet his name alone. 
Not yet the power and might we know 
Or dwelling of the monstrous foe. 
With none our helpless feet to guide 
We wander here by sorrow tried. 
Let pity move thee to requite 
Our service in the funeral rite. 
Our hands shall bring the boughs that, dry 
Where elephants have rent them, lie, 
Then dig a pit, and light the fire 
To burn thee as the laws require. 



Canto LXXII. Kabandha's Tale. 1115 

Do thou as meed of this declare 

Who stole my spouse, his dwelling where. 

O, if thou can, I pray thee say, 

And let this grace our deeds repay." 

Danu had lent attentive ear 
The words which Rama spoke to hear, 
And thus, a speaker skilled and tried, 
To that great orator replied: 
"No heavenly lore my soul endows, 
Naught know I of thy Maithil spouse. 
Yet will I, when my shape I wear, 
Him who will tell thee all declare. 
Then, Rama, will my lips disclose 
His name who well that giant knows. 
But till the flames my corse devour 
This hidden knowledge mocks my power. 
For through that curse's withering taint 
My knowledge now is small and faint. 
Unknown the giant's very name 
Who bore away the Maithil dame. 
Cursed for my evil deeds I wore 
A shape which all the worlds abhor. 
Now ere with wearied steeds the sun 
Through western skies his course have run, 

Deep in a pit my body lay [314] 

And burn it in the wonted way. 
When in the grave my corse is placed, 
With fire and funeral honours graced, 
Then I, great chief, his name will tell 
Who knows the giant robber well. 
With him, who guides his life aright, 
In league of trusting love unite, 
And he, O valiant prince, will be 



1116 The Ramayana 

A faithful friend and aid to thee. 
For, Rama, to his searching eyes 
The triple world uncovered lies. 
For some dark cause of old, I ween, 
Through all the spheres his ways have been." 



Canto LXXIII. Kabandha's Counsel. 



The monster ceased: the princely pair 
Heard great Kabandha's eager prayer. 
Within a mountain cave they sped, 
Where kindled fire with care they fed. 
Then Lakshman in his mighty hands 
Brought ample store of lighted brands, 
And to a pile of logs applied 
The flame that ran from side to side. 
The spreading glow with gentle force 
Consumed Kabandha's mighty corse, 
Till the unresting flames had drunk 
The marrow of the monstrous trunk, 
As balls of butter melt away 
Amid the fires that o'er them play. 
Then from the pyre, like flame that glows 
Undimmed by cloudy smoke, he rose, 
In garments pure of spot or speck, 
A heavenly wreath about his neck. 
Resplendent in his bright attire 
He sprang exultant from the pyre. 
While from neck, arm, and foot was sent 
The flash of gold and ornament. 
High on a chariot, bright of hue, 



Canto LXXIII. Kabandha's Counsel. 1117 

Which swans of fairest pinion drew, 
He filled each region of the air 
With splendid glow reflected there. 
Then in the sky he stayed his car 
And called to Rama from afar: 
"Hear, chieftain, while my lips explain 
The means to win thy spouse again. 
Six plans, O prince, the wise pursue 
To reach the aims we hold in view. 519 
When evils ripening sorely press 
They load the wretch with new distress, 
So thou and Lakshman, tried by woe, 
Have felt at last a fiercer blow, 
And plunged in bitterest grief to-day 
Lament thy consort torn away. 
There is no course but this: attend; 
Make, best of friends, that chief thy friend. 
Unless his prospering help thou gain 
Thy plans and hopes must all be vain. 
O Rama, hear my words, and seek, 
Sugriva, for of him I speak. 
His brother Bali, Indra's son, 
Expelled him when the fight was won. 
With four great chieftains, faithful still, 
He dwells on Rishyamuka's hill. — 
Fair mountain, lovely with the flow 
Of Pampa's waves that glide below, — 
Lord of the Vanars 520 just and true, 
Strong, very glorious, bright to view, 
Unmatched in counsel, firm and meek, 
Bound by each word his lips may speak, 
Good, splendid, mighty, bold and brave, 



519 Peace, war, marching, halting, sowing dissensions, and seeking protection. 



1118 The Ramayana 

Wise in each plan to guide and save. 
His brother, fired by lust of sway, 
Drove forth the prince in woods to stray. 
In all thy search for Sita he 
Thy ready friend and help will be. 
With him to aid thee in thy quest 
Dismiss all sorrow from thy breast. 
Time is a mighty power, and none 
His fixed decree can change or shun. 
So rich reward thy toil shall bless, 
And naught can stay thy sure success. 
Speed hence, O chief, without delay, 
To strong Sugriva take thy way. 
This hour thy footsteps onward bend, 
And make that mighty prince thy friend. 
With him before the attesting flame 
In solemn truth alliance frame. 
Nor wilt thou, if thy heart be wise, 
Sugriva, Vanar king, despise. 
Of boundless strength, all shapes he wears, 
He hearkens to a suppliant's prayers, 
And, grateful for each kindly deed, 
Will help and save in hour of need. 
And you, I ween, the power possess 
To aid his hopes and give redress. 
He, let his cause succeed or fail, 
Will help you, and you must prevail. 
A banished prince, in fear and woe 
He roams where Pampa's waters flow, 
True offspring of the Lord of Light 
Expelled by Bali's conquering might. 
Go, Raghu's son, that chieftain seek 
Who dwells on Rishyamuka's peak. 
Before the flame thy weapons cast 



Canto LXXIV. Kabandha's Death. 1119 

And bind the bonds of friendship fast. 

For, prince of all the Vanar race, 

He in his wisdom knows each place 

Where dwell the fierce gigantic brood 

Who make the flesh of man their food. 

To him, O Raghu's son, to him 

Naught in the world is dark or dim, 

Where'er the mighty Day-God gleams 

Resplendent with a thousand beams. [315] 

He over rocky height and hill, 

Through gloomy cave, by lake and rill, 

Will with his Vanars seek the prize, 

And tell thee where thy lady lies. 

And he will send great chieftains forth 

To east and west and south and north, 

To seek the distant spot where she 

All desolate laments for thee. 

He even in Ravan's halls would find 

Thy Sita, gem of womankind. 

Yea, if the blameless lady lay 
On Meru's loftiest steep, 

Or, far removed from light of day, 
Where hell is dark and deep, 

That chief of all the Vanar race 
His way would still explore, 

Meet the cowed giants face to face 
And thy dear spouse restore." 



Canto LXXIV. Kabandha's Death. 



1120 The Ramayana 

When wise Kabandha thus had taught 
The means to find the dame they sought, 
And urged them onward in the quest, 
He thus again the prince addressed: 

"This path, O Raghu's son, pursue 
Where those fair trees which charm the view, 
Extending westward far away, 
The glory of their bloom display, 
Where their bright leaves Rose-apples show, 
And the tall Jak and Mango grow. 
Whene'er you will, those trees ascend, 
Or the long branches shake and bend, 
Their savoury fruit like Amrit eat, 
Then onward speed with willing feet. 
Beyond this shady forest, decked 
With flowering trees, your course direct. 
Another grove you then will find 
With every joy to take the mind, 
Like Nandan with its charms displayed, 
Or Northern Kuru's blissful shade; 
Where trees distil their balmy juice, 
And fruit through all the year produce; 
Where shades with seasons ever fair 
With Chaitraratha may compare: 
Where trees whose sprays with fruit are bowed 
Rise like a mountain or a cloud. 
There, when you list, from time to time, 
The loaded trees may Lakshman climb, 
Or from the shaken boughs supply 
Sweet fruit that may with Amrit vie. 
The onward path pursuing still 
From wood to wood, from hill to hill, 
Your happy eyes at length will rest 



Canto LXXIV. Kabandha's Death. 1121 

On Pampa's lotus-covered breast. 

Her banks with gentle slope descend, 

Nor stones nor weed the eyes offend, 

And o'er smooth beds of silver sand 

Lotus and lily blooms expand. 

There swans and ducks and curlews play, 

And keen-eyed ospreys watch their prey, 

And from the limpid waves are heard 

Glad notes of many a water-bird. 

Untaught a deadly foe to fear 

They fly not when a man is near, 

And fat as balls of butter they 

Will, when you list, your hunger stay. 

Then Lakshman with his shafts will take 

The fish that swim the brook and lake, 

Remove each bone and scale and fin, 

Or strip away the speckled skin, 

And then on iron skewers broil 

For thy repast the savoury spoil. 

Thou on a heap of flowers shalt rest 

And eat the meal his hands have dressed, 

There shalt thou lie on Pampa's brink, 

And Lakshman's hand shall give thee drink, 

Filling a lotus leaf with cool 

Pure water from the crystal pool, 

To which the opening blooms have lent 

The riches of divinest scent. 

Beside thee at the close of day 

Will Lakshman through the woodland stray, 

And show thee where the monkeys sleep 

In caves beneath the mountain steep. 

Loud-voiced as bulls they forth will burst 

And seek the flood, oppressed by thirst; 

Then rest a while, their wants supplied, 



1122 The Ramayana 

Their well-fed bands on Pampa's side. 
Thou roving there at eve shalt see 
Rich clusters hang on shrub and tree, 
And Pampa flushed with roseate glow, 
And at the view forget thy woe. 
There shalt thou mark with strange delight 
Each loveliest flower that blooms by night, 
While lily buds that shrink from day 
Their tender loveliness display. 
In that far wild no hand but thine 
Those peerless flowers in wreaths shall twine: 
Immortal in their changeless pride, 
Ne'er fade those blooms and ne'er are dried. 
There erst on holy thoughts intent 
Their days Matanga's pupils spent. 
Once for their master food they sought, 
And store of fruit and berries brought. 
Then as they laboured through the dell 
From limb and brow the heat-drops fell: 
Thence sprang and bloomed those wondrous trees: 
Such holy power have devotees. 
Thus, from the hermits' heat-drops sprung, 
Their growth is ever fresh and young. 
There Savari is dwelling yet, 
[316] Who served each vanished anchoret. 

Beneath the shade of holy boughs 
That ancient votaress keeps her vows. 
Her happy eyes on thee will fall, 
O godlike prince, adored by all, 
And she, whose life is pure from sin, 
A blissful seat in heaven will win. 
But cross, O son of Raghu, o'er, 
And stand on Pampa's western shore. 
A tranquil hermitage that lies 



Canto LXXIV. Kabandha's Death. 1 123 

Deep in the woods will meet thine eyes. 

No wandering elephants invade 

The stillness of that holy shade, 

But checked by saint Matanga's power 

They spare each consecrated bower. 

Through many an age those trees have stood 

World-famous as Matanga's wood 

Still, Raghu's son, pursue thy way: 

Through shades where birds are vocal stray, 

Fair as the blessed wood where rove 

Immortal Gods, or Nandan's grove. 

Near Pampa eastward, full in sight, 

Stands Rishyamuka's wood-crowned height. 

'Tis hard to climb that towering steep 

Where serpents unmolested sleep. 

The free and bounteous, formed of old 

By Brahma of superior mould, 

Who sink when day is done to rest 

Reclining on that mountain crest, — 

What wealth or joy in dreams they view, 

Awaking find the vision true. 

But if a villain stained with crime 

That holy hill presume to climb, 

The giants in their fury sweep 

From the hill top the wretch asleep. 

There loud and long is heard the roar 

Of elephants on Pampa's shore, 

Who near Matanga's dwelling stray 

And in those waters bathe and play. 

A while they revel by the flood, 

Their temples stained with streams like blood, 

Then wander far away dispersed, 

Dark as huge clouds before they burst. 

But ere they part they drink their fill 



1124 The Ramayana 

Of bright pure water from the rill, 
Delightful to the touch, where meet 
Scents of all flowers divinely sweet, 
Then speeding from the river side 
Deep in the sheltering thicket hide. 
Then bears and tigers shalt thou view 
Whose soft skins show the sapphire's hue, 
And silvan deer that wander nigh 
Shall harmless from thy presence fly. 
High in that mountain's wooded side 
Is a fair cavern deep and wide, 
Yet hard to enter: piles of rock 
The portals of the cavern block. 521 
Fast by the eastern door a pool 
Gleams with broad waters fresh and cool, 
Where stores of roots and fruit abound, 
And thick trees shade the grassy ground. 
This mountain cave the virtuous-souled 
Sugriva, and his Vanars hold, 
And oft the mighty chieftain seeks 
The summits of those towering peaks." 

Thus spake Kabandha high in air 
His counsel to the royal pair. 
Still on his neck that wreath he bore, 
And radiance like the sun's he wore. 
Their eyes the princely brothers raised 
And on that blissful being gazed: 
"Behold, we go: no more delay; 
Begin," they cried, "thy heavenward way." 
"Depart," Kabandha's voice replied, 
"Pursue your search, and bliss betide." 



Or as the commentator Tfrtha says, Silapidhana, rock-covered, may be the 
name of the cavern. 



Canto LXXV. Savari. 1 125 

Thus to the happy chiefs he said, 
Then on his heavenward journey sped. 
Thus once again Kabandha won 
A shape that glittered like the sun 

Without a spot or stain. 
Thus bade he Rama from the air 
To great Sugriva's side repair 

His friendly love to gain. 



Canto LXXV. Savari. 



Thus counselled by their friendly guide 
On through the wood the princes hied, 
Pursuing still the eastern road 
To Pampa which Kabandha showed, 
Where trees that on the mountains grew 
With fruit like honey charmed the view. 
They rested weary for the night 
Upon a mountain's wooded height, 
Then onward with the dawn they hied 
And stood on Pampa's western side, 
Where Savari' s fair home they viewed 
Deep in that shady solitude. 
The princes reached the holy ground 
Where noble trees stood thick around, 
And joying in the lovely view 
Near to the aged votaress drew. 
To meet the sons of Raghu came, 
With hands upraised, the pious dame, 
And bending low with reverence meet 
Welcomed them both and pressed their feet. 



1126 The Ramayana 

Then water, as beseems, she gave, 
Their lips to cool, their feet to lave. 
To that pure saint who never broke 
One law of duty Rama spoke: 

"I trust no cares invade thy peace, 
While holy works and zeal increase; 
That thou content with scanty food 
All touch of ire hast long subdued; 
[317] That all thy vows are well maintained 

While peace of mind is surely gained, 
That reverence of the saints who taught 
Thy faithful heart due fruit has brought." 

The aged votaress pure of taint, 
Revered by every perfect saint, 
Rose to her feet by Rama's side 
And thus in gentle tones replied: 
"My penance meed this day I see 
Complete, my lord, in meeting thee. 
This day the fruit of birth I gain, 
Nor have I served the saints in vain. 
I reap rich fruits of toil and vow, 
And heaven itself awaits me now, 
When I, O chief of men, have done 
Honour to thee the godlike one. 
I feel, great lord, thy gentle eye 
My earthly spirit purify, 
And I, brave tamer of thy foes, 
Shall through thy grace in bliss repose. 
Thy feet by Chitrakuta strayed 
When those great saints whom I obeyed, 
In dazzling chariots bright of hue, 
Hence to their heavenly mansions flew. 



Canto LXXV. Savari. 1 127 

As the high saints were borne away 

I heard their holy voices say: 

"In this pure grove, O devotee, 

Prince Rama soon will visit thee. 

When he and Lakshman seek this shade, 

Be to thy guests all honour paid. 

Him shalt thou see, and pass away 

To those blest worlds which ne'er decay." 

To me, O mighty chief, the best 

Of lofty saints these words addressed. 

Laid up within my dwelling lie 

Fruits of each sort which woods supply, — 

Food culled for thee in endless store 

From every tree on Pampa's shore." 

Thus to her virtuous guest she sued 
And he, with heavenly lore endued, 
Words such as these in turn addressed 
To her with equal knowledge blest: 
"Danu himself the power has told 
Of thy great masters lofty- souled. 
Now if thou will, mine eyes would fain 
Assurance of their glories gain." 

She heard the prince his wish declare: 
Then rose she, and the royal pair 
Of brothers through the wood she led 
That round her holy dwelling spread. 
"Behold Matanga's wood" she cried, 
"A grove made famous far and wide. 
Dark as thick clouds and filled with herds 
Of wandering deer, and joyous birds. 
In this pure spot each reverend sire 
With offerings fed the holy fire. 



1128 The Ramayana 

See here the western altar stands 

Where daily with their trembling hands 

The aged saints, so long obeyed 

By me, their gifts of blossoms laid. 

The holy power, O Raghu's son, 

By their ascetic virtue won, 

Still keeps their well-loved altar bright, 

Filling the air with beams of light. 

And those seven neighbouring lakes behold 

Which, when the saints infirm and old, 

Worn out by fasts, no longer sought, 

Moved hither drawn by power of thought. 

Look, Rama, where the devotees 

Hung their bark mantles on the trees, 

Fresh from the bath: those garments wet 

Through many a day are dripping yet. 

See, through those aged hermits' power 

The tender spray, this bright-hued flower 

With which the saints their worship paid, 

Fresh to this hour nor change nor fade. 

Here thou hast seen each lawn and dell, 

And heard the tale I had to tell: 

Permit thy servant, lord, I pray, 

To cast this mortal shell away, 

For I would dwell, this life resigned, 

With those great saints of lofty mind, 

Whom I within this holy shade 

With reverential care obeyed." 

When Rama and his brother heard 
The pious prayer the dame preferred, 
Filled full of transport and amazed 
They marvelled as her words they praised. 
Then Rama to the votaress said 



Canto LXXVI. Pampa. 1 129 

Whose holy vows were perfected: 
"Go, lady, where thou fain wouldst be, 
O thou who well hast honoured me." 

Her locks in hermit fashion tied, 
Clad in bark coat and black deer-hide, 
When Rama gave consent, the dame 
Resigned her body to the flame. 
Then like the fire that burns and glows, 
To heaven the sainted lady rose, 
In all her heavenly garments dressed, 
Immortal wreaths on neck and breast, 
Bright with celestial gems she shone 
Most beautiful to look upon, 
And like the flame of lightning sent 
A glory through the firmament. 
That holy sphere the dame attained, 
By depth of contemplation gained, 
Where roam high saints with spirits pure 
In bliss that shall for aye endure. 



Canto LXXVI. Pampa. 



When Savari had sought the skies 

And gained her splendid virtue's prize, 

Rama with Lakshman stayed to brood 

O'er the strange scenes their eyes had viewed. 

His mind upon those saints was bent, 

For power and might preeminent 

And he to musing Lakshman spoke 

The thoughts that in his bosom woke: [318] 



1130 The Ramayana 

"Mine eyes this wondrous home have viewed 
Of those great saints with souls subdued, 
Where peaceful tigers dwell and birds, 
And deer abound in heedless herds. 
Our feet upon the banks have stood 
Of those seven lakes within the wood, 
Where we have duly dipped, and paid 
Libations to each royal shade. 
Forgotten now are thoughts of ill 
And joyful hopes my bosom fill. 
Again my heart is light and gay 
And grief and care have passed away. 
Come, brother, let us hasten where 
Bright Pampa's flood is fresh and fair, 
And towering in their beauty near 
Mount Rishyamuka's heights appear, 
Which, offspring of the Lord of Light, 
Still fearing Bali's conquering might, 
With four brave chiefs of Vanar race 
Sugriva makes his dwelling-place. 
I long with eager heart to find 
That leader of the Vanar kind, 
For on that chief my hopes depend 
That this our quest have prosperous end." 

Thus Rama spoke, in battle tried, 
And thus Sumitra's son replied: 
"Come, brother, come, and speed away: 
My spirit brooks no more delay." 
Thus spake Sumitra's son, and then 
Forth from the grove the king of men 
With his dear brother by his side 
To Pampa's lucid waters hied. 
He gazed upon the woods where grew 



Canto LXXVI. Pampa. 1131 

Trees rich in flowers of every hue. 

From brake and dell on every side 

The curlew and the peacock cried, 

And flocks of screaming parrots made 

Shrill music in the bloomy shade. 

His eager eyes, as on he went, 

On many a pool and tree were bent. 

Inflamed with love he journeyed on 

Till a fair flood before him shone. 

He stood upon the water's side 

Which streams from distant hills supplied: 

Matanga's name that water bore: 

There bathed he from the shelving shore. 

Then, each on earnest thoughts intent, 

Still farther on their way they went. 

But Rama's heart once more gave way 

Beneath his grief and wild dismay. 

Before him lay the noble flood 

Adorned with many a lotus bud. 

On its fair banks Asoka glowed, 

And all bright trees their blossoms showed. 

Green banks that silver waves confined 

With lovely groves were fringed and lined. 

The crystal waters in their flow 

Showed level sands that gleamed below. 

There glittering fish and tortoise played, 

And bending trees gave pleasant shade. 

There creepers on the branches hung 

With lover-like embraces clung. 

There gay Gandharvas loved to meet, 

And Kinnars sought the calm retreat. 

There wandering Yakshas found delight, 

Snake-gods and rovers of the night. 

Cool were the pleasant waters, gay 



1 1 32 The Ramayana 

Each tree with creeper, flower, and spray. 
There flushed the lotus darkly red, 
Here their white glory lilies spread, 
Here sweet buds showed their tints of blue: 
So carpets gleam with many a hue. 
A grove of Mangoes blossomed nigh, 
Echoing with the peacock's cry. 
When Rama by his brother's side 
The lovely flood of Pampa eyed, 
Decked like a beauty, fair to see 
With every charm of flower and tree, 
His mighty heart with woe was rent 
And thus he spoke in wild lament 

"Here, Lakshman, on this beauteous shore, 
Stands, dyed with tints of many an ore, 
The mountain Rishyamuka bright 
With flowery trees that crown each height. 
Sprung from the chief who, famed of yore, 
The name of Riksharajas bore, 
Sugriva, chieftain strong and dread, 
Dwells on that mountain's towering head. 
Go to him, best of men, and seek 
That prince of Vanars on the peak, 
I cannot longer brook my pain, 
Or, Sita lost, my life retain." 

Thus by the pangs of love distressed, 
His thoughts on Sita bent, 

His faithful brother he addressed, 
And cried in wild lament. 

He reached the lovely ground that lay 
On Pampa's wooded side, 

And told in anguish and dismay, 
The grief he could not hide. 



Canto LXXVI. Pampa. 1133 

With listless footsteps faint and slow 

His way the chief pursued, 
Till Pampa with her glorious show 

Of flowering woods he viewed. 
Through shades where every bird was found 

The prince with Lakshman passed, 
And Pampa with her groves around 

Burst on his eyes at last. 



[319] 



BOOK IV. 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 



The princes stood by Pampa's side 522 
Which blooming lilies glorified. 
With troubled heart and sense o'erthrown 
There Rama made his piteous moan. 
As the fair flood before him lay 
The reason of the chief gave way; 
And tender thoughts within him woke, 
As to Sumitra's son he spoke: 



522 Pampa is said by the commentator to be the name both of a lake and a brook 
which flows into it. The brook is said to rise in the hill Rishyamuka. 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 1135 

"How lovely Pampa's waters show, 
Where streams of lucid crystal flow! 
What glorious trees o'erhang the flood 
Which blooms of opening lotus stud! 
Look on the banks of Pampa where 
Thick groves extend divinely fair; 
And piles of trees, like hills in size, 
Lift their proud summits to the skies. 
But thought of Bharat's 523 pain and toil, 
And my dear spouse the giant's spoil, 
Afflict my tortured heart and press 
My spirit down with heaviness. 
Still fair to me though sunk in woe 
Bright Pampa and her forest show. 
Where cool fresh waters charm the sight, 
And flowers of every hue are bright. 
The lotuses in close array 
Their passing loveliness display, 
And pard and tiger, deer and snake 
Haunt every glade and dell and brake. 
Those grassy spots display the hue 
Of topazes and sapphires' blue, 
And, gay with flowers of every dye, 
With richly broidered housings vie. 
What loads of bloom the high trees crown, 
Or weigh the bending branches down! 
And creepers tipped with bud and flower 
Each spray and loaded limb o'erpower. 
Now cool delicious breezes blow, 
And kindle love's voluptuous glow, 
When balmy sweetness fills the air, 
And fruit and flowers and trees are fair. 



Who was acting as Regent for Rama and leading an ascetic life while he 
mourned for his absent brother. 



1136 The Ramayana 

Those waving woods, that shine with bloom, 

Each varied tint in turn assume. 

Like labouring clouds they pour their showers 

In rain or ever-changing flowers. 

Behold, those forest trees, that stand 

High upon rock and table-land, 

As the cool gales their branches bend, 

Their floating blossoms downward send. 

See, Lakshman, how the breezes play 

With every floweret on the spray. 

And sport in merry guise with all 

The fallen blooms and those that fall. 

See, brother, where the merry breeze 

Shakes the gay boughs of flowery trees, 

Disturbed amid their toil a throng 

Of bees pursue him, loud in song. 

The Koils, 524 mad with sweet delight, 

The bending trees to dance invite; 

And in its joy the wild wind sings 

As from the mountain cave he springs. 

On speed the gales in rapid course, 

And bend the woods beneath their force, 

Till every branch and spray they bind 

In many a tangled knot entwined. 

What balmy sweets those gales dispense 

With cool and sacred influence! 

Fatigue and trouble vanish: such 

The magic of their gentle touch. 

Hark, when the gale the boughs has bent 

In woods of honey redolent, 

Through all their quivering sprays the trees 

Are vocal with the murmuring bees. 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 1 137 

The hills with towering summits rise, 

And with their beauty charm the eyes, 

Gay with the giant trees which bright 

With blossom spring from every height: 

And as the soft wind gently sways 

The clustering blooms that load the sprays, 

The very trees break forth and sing 

With startled wild bees' murmuring. 

Thine eyes to yonder Cassias 525 turn 

Whose glorious clusters glow and burn. [320] 

Those trees in yellow robes behold, 

Like giants decked with burnished gold. 

Ah me, Sumitra's son, the spring 

Dear to sweet birds who love and sing, 

Wakes in my lonely breast the flame 

Of sorrow as I mourn my dame. 

Love strikes me through with darts of fire, 

And wakes in vain the sweet desire. 

Hark, the loud Koil swells his throat, 

And mocks me with his joyful note. 

I hear the happy wild-cock call 

Beside the shady waterfall. 

His cry of joy afflicts my breast 

By love's absorbing might possessed. 

My darling from our cottage heard 

One morn in spring this shrill-toned bird, 

And called me in her joy to hear 

The happy cry that charmed her ear. 



525 The Cassia Fistula or Amaltas is a splendid tree like a giant laburnum 
covered with a profusion of chains and tassels of gold. Dr. Roxburgh well 
describes it as "uncommonly beautiful when in flower, few trees surpassing it 
in the elegance of its numerous long pendulous racemes of large bright-yellow 
flowers intermixed with the young lively green foliage." It is remarkable also 
for its curious cylindrical black seed-pods about two feet long, which are called 
monkeys' walking-sticks. 



1138 The Ramay ana 

See, birds of every varied voice 
Around us in the woods rejoice, 
On creeper, shrub, and plant alight, 
Or wing from tree to tree their flight. 
Each bird his kindly mate has found, 
And loud their notes of triumph sound, 
Blending in sweetest music like 
The distant warblings of the shrike. 
See how the river banks are lined 
With birds of every hue and kind. 
Here in his joy the Koil sings, 
There the glad wild-cock flaps his wings. 
The blooms of bright Asokas 526 where 
The song of wild bees fills the air, 
And the soft whisper of the boughs 
Increase my longing for my spouse. 
The vernal flush of flower and spray 
Will burn my very soul away. 
What use, what care have I for life 
If I no more may see my wife 
Soft speaker with the glorious hair, 
And eyes with silken lashes fair? 
Now is the time when all day long 



blossoms in February and March with large erect compact clusters of flowers, 
varying in colour from pale-orange to scarlet, almost to be mistaken, on a hasty 
glance, for immense trusses of bloom of an Ixora. Mr. Fortune considered this 
tree, when in full bloom, superior in beauty even to the Amherstia. 

The first time I saw the Asoc in flower was on the hill where the famous 
rock-cut temple of Karlf is situated, and a large concourse of natives had 
assembled for the celebration of some Hindoo festival. Before proceeding to 
the temple the Mahratta women gathered from two trees, which were flowering 
somewhat below, each a fine truss of blossom, and inserted it in the hair at the 
back of her head. ... As they moved about in groups it is impossible to imagine 
a more delightful effect than the rich scarlet bunches of flowers presented on 
their fine glossy jet-black hair." FIRMINGER{FNS, Gardening for India. 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 1139 

The Koi'ls fill the woods with song. 

And gardens bloom at spring's sweet touch 

Which my beloved loved so much. 

Ah me, Sumitra's son, the fire 

Of sorrow, sprung from soft desire, 

Fanned by the charms the spring time shows, 

Will burn my heart and end my woes, 

Whose sad eyes look on each fair tree, 

But my sweet love no more may see. 

Ah me, Ah me, from hour to hour 

Love in my soul will wax in power, 

And spring, upon whose charms I gaze, 

Whose breath the heat of toil allays, 

With thoughts of her for whom I strain 

My hopeless eyes, increase my pain. 

As fire in summer rages through 

The forests thick with dry bamboo, 

So will my fawn eyed love consume 

My soul o'erwhelmed with thoughts of gloom. 

Behold, beneath each spreading tree 

The peacocks dance 527 in frantic glee, 

And, stirred by all the gales that blow, 

Their tails with jewelled windows glow, 

Each bird, in happy love elate, 

Rejoices with his darling mate. 

But sights like these of joy and peace 

My pangs of hopeless love increase. 

See on the mountain slope above 

The peahen languishing with love. 

Behold her now in amorous dance 

Close to her consort's side advance. 



527 No other word can express the movements of peafowl under the influence 
of pleasing excitement, especially when after the long drought they hear the 
welcome roar of the thunder and feel that the rain is near. 



1 1 40 The Ramayana 

He with a laugh of joy and pride 
Displays his glittering pinions wide; 
And follows through the tangled dell 
The partner whom he loves so well. 
Ah happy bird! no giant's hate 
Has robbed him of his tender mate; 
And still beside his loved one he 
Dances beneath the shade in glee. 
Ah, in this month when flowers are fair 
My widowed woe is hard to bear. 
See, gentle love a home may find 
In creatures of inferior kind. 
See how the peahen turns to meet 
[321] Her consort now with love-drawn feet. 

So, Lakshman, if my large-eyed dear, 
The child of Janak still were here, 
She, by love's thrilling influence led, 
Upon my breast would lay her head. 
These blooms I gathered from the bough 
Without my love are useless now. 
A thousand blossoms fair to see 
With passing glory clothe each tree 
That hangs its cluster-burthened head 
Now that the dewy months 528 are fled, 
But, followed by the bees that ply 
Their fragrant task, they fall and die. 
A thousand birds in wild delight 
Their rapture-breathing notes unite; 
Bird calls to bird in joyous strain, 
And turns my love to frenzied pain. 
O, if beneath those alien skies, 
There be a spring where Sita lies, 



528 The Dewy Season is one of the six ancient seasons of the Indian year, 
lasting from the middle of January to the middle of March. 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 1141 

I know my prisoned love must be 

Touched with like grief, and mourn with me. 

But ah, me thinks that dreary clime 

Knows not the touch of spring's sweet time. 

How could my black eyed love sustain, 

Without her lord, so dire a pain? 

Or if the sweet spring come to her 

In distant lands a prisoner, 

How may his advent and her met 

On every side with taunt and threat? 

Ah, if the springtide's languor came 

With soft enchantment o'er my dame, 

My darling of the lotus eye, 

My gently speaking love, would die; 

For well my spirit knows that she 

Can never live bereft of me 

With love that never wavered yet 

My Sita's heart, on me is set, 

Who, with a soul that ne'er can stray, 

With equal love her love repay. 

In vain, in vain the soft wind brings 

Sweet blossoms on his balmy wings; 

Delicious from his native snow, 

To me like fire he seems to glow. 

O, how I loved a breeze like this 

When darling Sita shared the bliss! 

But now in vain for me it blows 

To fan the fury of my woes. 

That dark-winged bird that sought the skies 

Foretelling grief with warning cries, 

Sits on the tree where buds are gay, 

And pours glad music from the spray. 

That rover of the fields of air 

Will aid my love with friendly care, 



1 142 The Ramayana 

And me with gracious pity guide 
To my large-eyed Videhan's side. 529 
Hark, Lakshman, how the woods around 
With love-inspiring chants resound, 
Where birds in every bloom-crowned tree 
Pour forth their amorous minstrelsy. 
As though an eager gallant wooed 
A gentle maid by love subdued, 
Enamoured of her flowers the bee 
Darts at the wind-rocked Tila tree. 530 
Asoka, brightest tree that grows, 
That lends a pang to lovers' woes, 
Hangs out his gorgeous bloom in scorn 
And mocks me as I weep forlorn. 
O Lakshman, turn thine eye and see 
Each blossom-laden Mango tree, 
Like a young lover gaily dressed 
Whom fond desire forbids to rest. 
Look, son of Queen Sumitra through 
The forest glades of varied hue, 
Where blooms are bright and grass is green 
The Kinnars 531 with their loves are seen. 
See, brother, see where sweet and bright 
Those crimson lilies charm the sight, 
And o'er the flood a radiance throw 
Fair as the morning's roseate glow. 
See, Pampa, most divinely sweet, 



529 Rama appears to mean that on a former occasion a crow flying high over- 
head was an omen that indicated his approaching separation from Sita; and that 
now the same bird's perching on a tree near him may be regarded as a happy 
augury that she will soon be restored to her husband. 

530 A tree with beautiful and fragrant blossoms. 

531 A race of semi-divine musicians attached to the service of Kuvera, repre- 
sented as centaurs reversed with human figures and horses' heads. 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 1 143 

The swan's and mallard's loved retreat, 

Shows her glad waters bright and clear, 

Where lotuses their heads uprear 

From the pure wave, and charm the view 

With mingled tints of red and blue. 

Each like the morning's early beams 

Reflected in the crystal gleams; 

And bees on their sweet toil intent 

Weigh down each tender filament. 

There with gay lawns the wood recedes; 

There wildfowl sport amid the reeds, 

There roedeer stand upon the brink, 

And elephants descend to drink. 

The rippling waves which winds make fleet 

Against the bending lilies beat, 

And opening bud and flower and stem 

Gleam with the drops that hang on them. 

Life has no pleasure left for me 

While my dear queen I may not see, [322] 

Who loved so well those blooms that vie 

With the full splendour of her eye. 

O tyrant Love, who will not let 

My bosom for one hour forget 

The lost one whom I yearn to meet, 

Whose words were ever kind and sweet. 

Ah, haply might my heart endure 

This hopeless love that knows not cure, 

If spring with all his trees in flower 

Assailed me not with ruthless power. 

Each lovely scene, each sound and sight 

Wherein, with her, I found delight, 

Has lost the charm so sweet of yore, 

And glads my widowed heart no more. 

On lotus buds I seem to gaze, 



1 144 The Ramayana 

Or blooms that deck Palasa 532 sprays; 5 

But to my tortured memory rise 
The glories of my darling's eyes. 
Cool breezes through the forest stray 
Gathering odours on their way, 
Enriched with all the rifled scent 
Of lotus flower and filament. 
Their touch upon my temples falls 
And Sita's fragrant breath recalls. 
Now look, dear brother, on the right 
Of Pampa towers a mountain height 
Where fairest Cassia trees unfold 
The treasures of their burnished gold. 
Proud mountain king ! his woody side 
With myriad ores is decked and dyed, 
And as the wind-swept blossoms fall 
Their fragrant dust is stained with all. 
To yon high lands thy glances turn: 
With pendent fire they flash and burn, 
Where in their vernal glory blaze 
Palasa flowers on leafless sprays. 
O Lakshman, look! on Pampa's side 
What fair trees rise in blooming pride! 



532 Butea Frondosa. A tree that bears a profusion of brilliant red flowers which 
appear before the leaves. 

533 I omit five slokas which contain nothing but a list of trees for which, 
with one or two exceptions, there are no equivalent names in English. The 
following is Gorresio's translation of the corresponding passage in the Bengal 
recension: — 

"Oh come risplendono in questa stagione di primavera i vitici, le galedupe, 
le bassie, le dalbergie, i diospyri . . . le tile, le michelie, le rottlerie, le pentaptere 
ed i pterospermi, i bombaci, le grislee, gli abri, gli amaranti e le dalbergie; i 
sirii, le galedupe, le barringtonie ed i palmizi, i xanthocymi, il pepebetel, le 
verbosine e le ticaie, le nauclee le erythrine, gli asochi, e le tapie fanno d'ogni 
intorno pompa de' lor fiori." 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 1 145 

What climbing plants above them show 
Or hang their flowery garlands low! 
See how the amorous creeper rings 
The wind-rocked trees to which she clings, 
As though a dame by love impelled 
With clasping arms her lover held. 
Drunk with the varied scents that fill 
The balmy air, from hill to hill, 
From grove to grove, from tree to tree, 
The joyous wind is wandering free. 
These gay trees wave their branches bent 
By blooms, of honey redolent. 
There, slowly opening to the day, 
Buds with dark lustre deck the spray. 
The wild bee rests a moment where 
Each tempting flower is sweet and fair, 
Then, coloured by the pollen dyes, 
Deep in some odorous blossom lies. 
Soon from his couch away he springs: 
To other trees his course he wings, 
And tastes the honeyed blooms that grow 
Where Pampa's lucid waters flow. 
See, Lakshman, see, how thickly spread 
With blossoms from the trees o'erhead, 
That grass the weary traveller woos 
With couches of a thousand hues, 
And beds on every height arrayed 
With red and yellow tints are laid, 
No longer winter chills the earth: 
A thousand flowerets spring to birth, 
And trees in rivalry assume 
Their vernal garb of bud and bloom. 
How fair they look, how bright and gay 
With tasselled flowers on every spray ! 



1 146 The Ramayana 

While each to each proud challenge flings 
Borne in the song the wild bee sings. 
That mallard by the river edge 
Has bathed amid the reeds and sedge: 
Now with his mate he fondly plays 
And fires my bosom as I gaze. 



Mandakini 534 is far renowned: 
No lovelier flood on earth is found; 
But all her fairest charms combined 
In this sweet stream enchant the mind. 
O, if my love were here to look 
With me upon this lovely brook, 
Never for Ayodhya would I pine, 
Or wish that Indra's lot were mine. 
If by my darling's side I strayed 
O'er the soft turf which decks the glade, 
Each craving thought were sweetly stilled, 
Each longing of my soul fulfilled. 
But, now my love is far away, 
Those trees which make the woods so gay, 
In all their varied beauty dressed, 
Wake thoughts of anguish in my breast. 



That lotus-covered stream behold 
[323] Whose waters run so fresh and cold, 



534 A sacred stream often mentioned in the course of the poem. See Book II, 
Canto XCV. 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 1 147 

Sweet rill, the wildfowl's loved resort, 

Where curlew, swan, and diver sport; 

Where with his consort plays the drake, 

And tall deer love their thirst to slake, 

While from each woody bank is heard 

The wild note of each happy bird. 

The music of that joyous quire 

Fills all my soul with soft desire; 

And, as I hear, my sad thoughts fly 

To Sita of the lotus eye, 

Whom, lovely with her moonbright cheek, 

In vain mine eager glances seek. 

Now turn, those chequered lawns survey 

Where hart and hind together stray. 

Ah, as they wander at their will 

My troubled breast with grief they fill, 

While torn by hopeless love I sigh 

For Sita of the fawn-like eye. 

If in those glades where, touched by spring, 

Gay birds their amorous ditties sing, 

Mine own beloved I might see, 

Then, brother, it were well with me: 

If by my side she wandered still, 

And this cool breeze that stirs the rill 

Touched with its gentle breath the brows 

Of mine own dear Videhan spouse. 

For, Lakshman, O how blest are those 

On whom the breath of Pampa blows, 

Dispelling all their care and gloom 

With sweets from where the lilies bloom! 

How can my gentle love remain 

Alive amid the woe and pain, 

Where prisoned far away she lies, — 

My darling of the lotus eyes? 



1 148 The Ramayana 

How shall I dare her sire to greet 
Whose lips have never known deceit? 
How stand before the childless king 
And meet his eager questioning? 
When banished by my sire's decree, 
In low estate, she followed me. 
So pure, so true to every vow, 
Where is my gentle darling now? 
How can I bear my widowed lot, 
And linger on where she is not, 
Who followed when from home I fled 
Distracted, disinherited? 
My spirit sinks in hopeless pain 
When my fond glances yearn in vain 
For that dear face with whose bright eye 
The worshipped lotus scarce can vie. 
Ah when, my brother, shall I hear 
That voice that rang so soft and clear, 
When, sweetly smiling as she spoke, 
From her dear lips gay laughter broke? 
When worn with toil and love I strayed 
With Sita through the forest shade, 
No trace of grief was seen in her, 
My kind and thoughtful comforter. 
How shall my faltering tongue relate 
To Queen Kausalya Sita's fate? 
How answer when in wild despair 
She questions, Where is Sita, where? 
Haste, brother, haste: to Bharat hie, 
On whose fond love I still rely. 
My life can be no longer borne, 
Since Sita from my side is torn." 



Canto I. Rama's Lament. 1 149 

Thus like a helpless mourner, bent 
By sorrow, Rama made lament; 
And with wise counsel Lakshman tried 
To soothe his care, and thus replied: 
"O best of men, thy grief oppose, 
Nor sink beneath thy weight of woes. 
Not thus despond the great and pure 
And brave like thee, but still endure. 
Reflect what anguish wrings the heart 
When loving souls are forced to part; 
And, mindful of the coming pain, 
Thy love within thy breast restrain. 
For earth, though cooled by wandering streams, 
Lies scorched beneath the midday beams. 
Ravan his steps to hell may bend, 
Or lower yet in flight descend; 
But be thou sure, O Raghu's son, 
Avenging death he shall not shun. 
Rise, Rama, rise: the search begin, 
And track the giant foul with sin. 
Then shall the fiend, though far he fly, 
Resign his prey or surely die. 
Yea, though the trembling monster hide 
With SM close to Dili's 535 side, 
E'en there, unless he yield the prize, 
Slain by this wrathful hand he dies. 
Thy heart with strength and courage stay, 
And cast this weakling mood away. 
Our fainting hopes in vain revive 
Unless with firm resolve we strive. 
The zeal that fires the toiler's breast 



535 A daughter of Daksha who became one of the wives of Kasyapa and mother 
of the Daityas. She is termed the general mother of Titans and malignant 
beings. See Book I Cantos XLV, XLVI. 



1150 The Ramayana 

Mid earthly powers is first and best. 
Zeal every check and bar defies, 
And wins at length the loftiest prize, 
In woe and danger, toil and care, 
Zeal never yields to weak despair. 
With zealous heart thy task begin, 
And thou once more thy spouse shalt win. 
Cast fruitless sorrow from thy soul, 
Nor let this love thy heart control. 
Forget not all thy sacred lore, 
But be thy noble self once more." 

He heard, his bosom rent by grief, 
The counsel of his brother chief; 
Crushed in his heart the maddening pain, 
And rose resolved and strong again. 
Then forth upon his journey went 
The hero on his task intent, 
[324] Nor thought of Pampa's lovely brook, 

Or trees which murmuring breezes shook, 
Though on dark woods his glances fell, 
On waterfall and cave and dell; 
And still by many a care distressed 
The son of Raghu onward pressed. 
As some wild elephant elate 

Moves through the woods in pride, 
So Lakshman with majestic gait 

Strode by his brother's side. 
He, for his lofty spirit famed, 

Admonished and consoled; 
Showed Raghu's son what duty claimed, 

And bade his heart be bold. 
Then as the brothers strode apace 

To Rishyamuka's height, 



Canto II. Sugriva's Alarm. 1151 

The sovereign of the Vanar race 536 

Was troubled at the sight. 
As on the lofty hill he strayed 

He saw the chiefs draw near: 
A while their glorious forms surveyed, 

And mused in restless fear. 
His slow majestic step he stayed 

And gazed upon the pair. 
And all his spirit sank dismayed 

By fear too great to bear. 
When in their glorious might the best 

Of royal chiefs came nigh, 
The Vanars in their wild unrest 

Prepared to turn and fly. 
They sought the hermit's sacred home 537 

For peace and bliss ordained, 
And there, where Vanars loved to roam, 

A sure asylum gained. 



Canto II. Sugriva's Alarm. 



Sugriva moved by wondering awe 
The high-souled sons of Raghu saw, 
In all their glorious arms arrayed; 
And grief upon his spirit weighed. 



536 Sugriva, the ex-king of the Vanars, foresters, or monkeys, an exile from 
his home, wandering about the mountain Rishyamuka with his four faithful 
ex-ministers. 

537 The hermitage of the Saint Matanga which his curse prevented Bali, the 
present king of the Vanars, from entering. The story is told at length in Canto 
XI of this Book. 



1152 The Ramayana 

To every quarter of the sky 
He turned in fear his anxious eye, 
And roving still from spot to spot 
With troubled steps he rested not. 
He durst not, as he viewed the pair, 
Resolve to stand and meet them there; 
And drooping cheer and quailing breast 
The terror of the chief confessed. 
While the great fear his bosom shook, 
Brief counsel with his lords he took; 
Each gain and danger closely scanned, 
What hope in flight, what power to stand, 
While doubt and fear his bosom rent, 
On Raghu's sons his eyes he bent, 
And with a spirit ill at ease 
Addressed his lords in words like these: 

"Those chiefs with wandering steps invade 
The shelter of our pathless shade, 
And hither come in fair disguise 
Of hermit garb as Bali's spies." 

Each lord beheld with troubled heart 
Those masters of the bowman's art, 
And left the mountain side to seek 
Sure refuge on a loftier peak. 
The Vanar chief in rapid flight 
Found shelter on a towering height, 
And all the band with one accord 
Were closely gathered round their lord. 
Their course the same, with desperate leap 
Each made his way from steep to steep, 
And speeding on in wild career 
Filled every height with sudden fear. 



Canto II. Sugriva's Alarm. 1153 

Each heart was struck with mortal dread, 

As on their course the Vanars sped, 

While trees that crowned the steep were bent 

And crushed beneath them as they went. 

As in their eager flight they pressed 

For safety to each mountain crest, 

The wild confusion struck with fear 

Tiger and cat and wandering deer. 

The lords who watched Sugriva's will 

Were gathered on the royal hill, 

And all with reverent hands upraised 

Upon their king and leader gazed. 

Sugriva feared some evil planned, 

Some train prepared by Bali's hand. 

But, skilled in words that charm and teach, 

Thus Hanuman 538 began his speech: 

"Dismiss, dismiss thine idle fear, 
Nor dread the power of Bali here. 
For this is Malaya's glorious hill 539 
Where Bali's might can work no ill. 
I look around but nowhere see 
The hated foe who made thee flee, 
Fell Bali, fierce in form and face: 
Then fear not, lord of Vanar race. 
Alas, in thee I clearly find 

The weakness of the Vanar kind, [325] 

That loves from thought to thought to range, 
Fix no belief and welcome change. 
Mark well each hint and sign and scan, 
Discreet and wise, thine every plan. 



538 Hanuman, Sugriva's chief general, was the son of the God of Wind. See 
Book I, Canto XVI. 

539 A range of hills in Malabar; the Western Ghats in the Deccan. 



1154 The Ramayana 

How may a king, with sense denied, 
The subjects of his sceptre guide?" 

Hanuman, 540 wise in hour of need, 
Urged on the chief his prudent rede. 
His listening ear Sugriva bent, 
And spake in words more excellent: 

"Where is the dauntless heart that free 
From terror's chilling touch can see 
Two stranger warriors, strong as those, 
Equipped with swords and shafts and bows, 
With mighty arms and large full eyes, 
Like glorious children of the skies? 
Bali my foe, I ween, has sent 
These chiefs to aid his dark intent. 
Hence doubt and fear disturb me still, 
For thousands serve a monarch's will, 
In borrowed garb they come, and those 
Who walk disguised are counted foes. 
With secret thoughts they watch their time, 
And wound fond hearts that fear no crime. 
My foe in state affairs is wise, 
And prudent kings have searching eyes. 
By other hands they strike the foe: 
By meaner tools the truth they know. 
Now to those stranger warriors turn, 
And, less than king, their purpose learn. 
Mark well the trick and look of each; 
Observe his form and note his speech. 
With care their mood and temper sound, 



540 Valmiki makes the second vowel in this name long or short to suit the 
exigencies of the verse. Other Indian poets have followed his example, and the 
same licence will be used in this translation. 



Canto III. Hanuman's Speech. 1155 

And, if their minds be friendly found, 
With courteous looks and words begin 
Their confidence and love to win. 
Then as my friend and envoy speak, 
And question what the strangers seek. 
Ask why equipped with shaft and bow 
Through this wild maze of wood they go. 
If they, O chief, at first appear 
Pure of all guile, in heart sincere, 
Detect in speech and look the sin 
And treachery that lurk within." 

He spoke: the Wind-God's son obeyed. 
With ready zeal he sought the shade, 
And reached with hasty steps the wood 
Where Raghu's son and Lakshman stood. 541 



Canto III. Hanuman's Speech. 



The envoy in his faithful breast 
Pondered Sugriva's high behest. 
From Rishyamuka's peak he hied 
And placed him by the princes' side. 
The Wind-God's son with cautious art 
Had laid his Vanar form apart, 
And wore, to cheat the strangers eyes, 



541 I omit a recapitulatory and interpolated verse in a different metre, which is 
as follows: — Reverencing with the words, So be it, the speech of the greatly 
terrified and unequalled monkey king, the magnanimous Hanuman then went 
where (stood) the very mighty Rama with Lakshman. 



1156 The Ramayana 

A wandering mendicant's disguise. 542 
Before the heroes' feet he bent 
And did obeisance reverent, 
And spoke, the glorious pair to praise, 
His words of truth in courteous phrase, 
High honour duly paid, the best 
Of all the Vanar kind addressed, 
With free accord and gentle grace, 
Those glories of their warrior race: 

"O hermits, blest in vows, who shine 
Like royal saints or Gods divine, 

best of young ascetics, say 

How to this spot you found your way, 
Scaring the troops of wandering deer 
And silvan things that harbour here 
Searching amid the trees that grow 
Where Pampa's gentle waters flow. 
And lending from your brows a gleam 
Of glory to the lovely stream. 
Who are you, say, so brave and fair, 
Clad in the bark which hermits wear? 

1 see you heave the frequent sigh, 
I see the deer before you fly. 

While you, for strength and valour dread, 
The earth, like lordly lions, tread, 
Each bearing in his hand a bow, 
Like Indra's own, to slay the foe. 
With the grand paces of a bull, 



542 The semi divine Hanuman possesses, like the Gods and demons, the power 
of wearing all shapes at will. He is one of the Kdmarupis. 

Like Milton's good and bad angels "as they please 
They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size 
Assume as likes them best, condense or rare." 



Canto III. Hanuman's Speech. 1 157 

So bright and young and beautiful. 

The mighty arms you raise appear 

Like trunks which elephants uprear, 

And as you move this mountain-king 543 

Is glorious with the light you bring. 

How have you reached, like Gods in face, 

Best lords of earth, this lonely place, [326] 

With tresses coiled in hermit guise, 544 

And splendours of those lotus eyes? 

As Gods who leave their heavenly sphere, 

Alike your beauteous forms appear. 

The Lords of Day and Night 545 might thus 

Stray from the skies to visit us. 

Heroic youth, so broad of chest, 

Fair with the beauty of the Blest, 

With lion shoulders, tall and strong, 

Like bulls who lead the lowing throng, 

Your arms, unmatched for grace and length, 

With massive clubs may vie in strength. 

Why do no gauds those limbs adorn 

Where priceless gems were meetly worn? 

Each noble youth is fit, I deem, 

To guard this earth, as lord supreme, 

With all her woods and seas, to reign 

From Meru's peak to Vindhya's chain. 

Your smooth bows decked with dyes and gold 

Are glorious in their masters' hold, 

And with the arms of Indra 546 vie 

Which diamond splendours beautify. 



543 Himalaya is of course par excellence the Monarch of mountains, but the 
complimentary title is frequently given to other hills as here to Malaya. 

544 Twisted up in a matted coil as was the custom of ascetics. 



1158 The Ramay ana 

Your quivers glow with golden sheen, 
Well stored with arrows fleet and keen, 
Each gleaming like a fiery snake 
That joys the foeman's life to take. 
As serpents cast their sloughs away 
And all their new born sheen display, 
So flash your mighty swords inlaid 
With burning gold on hilt and blade. 
Why are you silent, heroes? Why 
My questions hear nor deign reply? 
Sugriva, lord of virtuous mind, 
The foremost of the Vanar kind, 
An exile from his royal state, 
Roams through the land disconsolate. 
I, Hanuman, of Vanar race, 
Sent by the king have sought this place, 
For he, the pious, just, and true, 
In friendly league would join with you. 
Know, godlike youths, that I am one 
Of his chief lords, the Wind-God's son. 
With course unchecked I roam at will, 
And now from Rishyamuka's hill, 
To please his heart, his hope to speed, 
I came disguised in beggar's weed." 



Thus Hanuman, well trained in lore 
Of language, spoke, and said no more. 
The son of Raghu joyed to hear 
The envoy's speech, and bright of cheer 
He turned to Lakshman by his side, 
And thus in words of transport cried: 



Canto III. Hanuman's Speech. 1159 

"The counselor we now behold 
Of King Sugriva righteous-souled. 
His face I long have yearned to see, 
And now his envoy comes to me 
With sweetest words in courteous phrase 
Answer this mighty lord who slays 
His foemen, by Sugriva sent, 
This Vanar chief most eloquent. 
For one whose words so sweetly flow 
The whole Rig-veda 547 needs must know, 
And in his well-trained memory store 
The Yajush and the Saman's lore. 
He must have bent his faithful ear 
All grammar's varied rules to hear. 
For his long speech how well he spoke! 
In all its length no rule he broke. 
In eye, on brow, in all his face 
The keenest look no guile could trace. 
No change of hue, no pose of limb 
Gave sign that aught was false in him. 
Concise, unfaltering, sweet and clear, 
Without a word to pain the ear. 
From chest to throat, nor high nor low, 
His accents came in measured flow. 
How well he spoke with perfect art 
That wondrous speech that charmed the heart, 
With finest skill and order graced 
In words that knew nor pause nor haste ! 
That speech, with consonants that spring 
From the three seats of uttering, 548 



547 The Vedas are four in number, the Rich or Rig-veda, the Yajush or Yajur- 
veda; the Saman or Sama-veda, and the Atharvan or Atharva-veda. See p. 3. 
Note. 

548 The chest, the throat, and the head. 



[327] 



1 1 60 The Ramayana 

Would charm the spirit of a foe 
Whose sword is raised for mortal blow. 
How may a ruler's plan succeed 
Who lacks such envoy good at need? 
How fail, if one whose mind is stored 
With gifts so rare assist his lord? 
What plans can fail, with wisest speech 
Of envoy's lips to further each?" 



Thus Rama spoke; and Lakshman taught 
In all the art that utters thought, 
To King Sugriva's learned spy 
Thus made his eloquent reply: 
"Full well we know the gifts that grace 
Sugriva, lord of Vanar race, 
And hither turn our wandering feet 
That we that high-souled king may meet. 
So now our pleasant task shall be 
To do the words he speaks by thee." 



His prudent speech the Vanar heard, 
And all his heart with joy was stirred. 
And hope that league with them would bring 
Redress and triumph to his king. 



Canto IV. Lakshman's Reply. 



Canto IV. Lakshman's Reply. 1161 

Cheered by the words that Rama spoke, 
Joy in the Vanar's breast awoke, 
And, as his friendly mood he knew, 
His thoughts to King Sugriva flew: 
"Again," he mused, "my high-souled lord 
Shall rule, to kingly state restored; 
Since one so mighty comes to save, 
And freely gives the help we crave." 



Then joyous Hanuman, the best 
Of all the Vanar kind, addressed 
These words to Rama, trained of yore 
In all the arts of speakers' lore: 549 

"Why do your feet this forest tread 

By silvan life inhabited, 

This awful maze of tree and thorn 

Which Pampa's flowering groves adorn?" 



549 "In our own metrical romances, or wherever a poem is meant not for readers 
but for chanters and oral reciters, these formula, to meet the same recurring 
case, exist by scores. Thus every woman in these metrical romances who 
happens to be young, is described as 'so bright of ble,' or complexion; always 
a man goes 'the mountenance of a mile' before he overtakes or is overtaken. 
And so on through a vast bead-roll of cases. In the same spirit Homer has his 
eternal rov 5'ocp' uitoSpa i5wv, or rov S'aitap.Eip'op.Evoc, irpoacpri, &c. 

To a reader of sensibility, such recurrences wear an air of child-like sim- 
plicity, beautifully recalling the features of Homer's primitive age. But they 
would have appeared faults to all commonplace critics in literary ages." 

DE QUINCEY{FNS. Homer and the Homeridce. 



1162 The Ramayana 

He spoke: obedient to the eye 
Of Rama, Lakshman made reply, 
The name and fortune to unfold 
Of Raghu's son the lofty-souled: 
"True to the law, of fame unstained, 
The glorious Dasaratha reigned, 
And, steadfast in his duty, long 
Kept the four castes 550 from scathe and wrong. 
Through his wide realm his will was done, 
And, loved by all, he hated none. 
Just to each creature great and small, 
Like the Good Sire he cared for all. 
The Agnishtom, 551 as priests advised, 
And various rites he solemnized, 
Where ample largess ever paid 
The Brahmans for their holy aid. 
Here Rama stands, his heir by birth, 
Whose name is glorious in the earth: 
Sure refuge he of all oppressed, 
Most faithful to his sire's behest. 
He, Dasaratha's eldest born 
Whom gifts above the rest adorn, 
Lord of each high imperial sign, 552 
The glory of his kingly line, 
Reft of his right, expelled from home, 
Came forth with me the woods to roam. 
And Sita too, his faithful dame, 
Forth with her virtuous husband came, 
Like the sweet light when day is done 



550 Brahmans the sacerdotal caste. Kshatriyas the royal and military, Vaisyas 
the mercantile, and Siidras the servile. 

551 A protracted sacrifice extending over several days. See Book I, p. 24 Note. 

552 Possessed of all the auspicious personal marks that indicate capacity of 
universal sovereignty. See Book I. p. 2, and Note 3. 



Canto IV. Lakshman's Reply. 1 163 

Still cleaving to her lord the sun. 

And me his sweet perfections drew 

To follow as his servant true. 

Named Lakshman, brother of my lord 

Of grateful heart with knowledge stored 

Most meet is he all bliss to share, 

Who makes the good of all his care. 

While, power and lordship cast away, 

In the wild wood he chose to stay, 

A giant came, — his name unknown, — 

And stole the princess left alone. 

Then Diti's son 553 who, cursed of yore, 

The semblance of a Rakshas wore, 

To King Sugriva bade us turn 

The robber's name and home to learn. 

For he, the Vanar chief, would know 

The dwelling of our secret foe. 

Such words of hope spake Diti's son, 

And sought the heaven his deeds had won. 

Thou hast my tale. From first to last 

Thine ears have heard whate'er has past. 

Rama the mighty lord and I 

For refuge to Sugriva fly. 

The prince whose arm bright glory gained, 

O'er the whole earth as monarch reigned, 

And richest gifts to others gave, 

Is come Sugriva's help to crave; 

Son of a king the surest friend 

Of virtue, him who loved to lend 

His succour to the suffering weak, 

Is come Sugriva's aid to seek. 

Yes, Raghu's son whose matchless hand 



Kabandha. See Book III. Canto LXXIII. 



1164 The Ramayana 

Protected all this sea-girt land, 
The virtuous prince, my holy guide, 
For refuge seeks Sugriva's side. 
His favour sent on great and small 
Should ever save and prosper all. 
He now to win Sugriva's grace 
[328] Has sought his woodland dwelling-place. 

Son of a king of glorious fame; — 
Who knows not Dasaratha's name? — 
From whom all princes of the earth 
Received each honour due to worth; — 
Heir of that best of earthly kings, 
Rama the prince whose glory rings 
Through realms below and earth and skies, 
For refuge to Sugriva flies. 
Nor should the Vanar king refuse 
The boon for which the suppliant sues, 
But with his forest legions speed 
To save him in his utmost need." 

Sumitra's son, his eyes bedewed 
With piteous tears, thus sighed and sued. 
Then, trained in all the arts that guide 
The speaker, Hanuman replied: 

"Yea, lords like you of wisest thought, 
Whom happy fate has hither brought, 
Who vanquish ire and rule each sense, 
Must of our lord have audience. 
Reft of his kingdom, sad, forlorn, 
Once Bali's hate now Bali's scorn, 
Defeated, severed from his spouse, 
Wandering under forest boughs, 
Child of the Sun, our lord and king 



Canto IV. Lakshman's Reply. 1 165 

Sugriva will his succours bring, 
And all our Vanar hosts combined 
Will trace the dame you long to find." 



With gentle tone and winning grace 
Thus spake the chief of Vanar race, 
And then to Raghu's son he cried: 
"Come, haste we to Sugriva's side." 



He spoke, and for his words so sweet 
Good Lakshman paid all honour meet; 
Then turned and cried to Raghu's son: 
"Now deem thy task already done, 
Because this chief of Vanar kind, 
Son of the God who rules the wind, 
Declares Sugriva's self would be 
Assisted in his need by thee. 
Bright gleams of joy his cheek o'erspread 
As each glad word of hope he said; 
And ne'er will one so valiant deign 
To cheer our hearts with hope in vain." 



He spoke, and Hanuman the wise 
Cast off his mendicant disguise, 
And took again his Vanar form, 
Son of the God of wind and storm. 
High on his ample back in haste 
Raghu's heroic sons he placed, 
And turned with rapid steps to find 
The sovereign of the Vanar kind. 



1166 



The Ramayana 



Canto V. The League. 



From Rishyamuka's rugged side 
To Malaya's hill the Vanar hied, 
And to his royal chieftain there 
Announced the coming of the pair: 
"See, here with Lakshman Rama stands 
Illustrious in a hundred lands. 
Whose valiant heart will never quail 
Although a thousand foes assail; 
King Dasaratha's son, the grace 
And glory of Ikshvaku's race. 
Obedient to his father's will 
He cleaves to sacred duty still. 
With rites of royal pomp and pride 
His sire the Fire-God gratified; 
Ten hundred thousand kine he freed, 
And priests enriched with ample meed; 
And the broad land protected, famed 
For truthful lips and passions tamed. 
Through woman's guile his son has made 
His dwelling in the forest shade, 
Where, as he lived with every sense 
Subdued in hermit abstinence, 
Fierce Ravan stole his wife, and he 
Is come a suppliant, lord, to thee. 
Now let all honour due be paid 
To these great chiefs who seek thine aid." 



Canto V. The League. 1 167 

Thus spake the Vanar prince, and, stirred 
With friendly thoughts, Sugriva heard. 
The light of joy his face o'erspread, 
And thus to Raghu's son he said: 
"O Prince, in rules of duty trained, 
Caring for all with love unfeigned, 
Hanuman's tongue has truly shown 
The virtues that are thine alone. 
My chiefest glory, gain, and bliss, 
O stranger Prince, I reckon this, 
That Raghu's son will condescend 
To seek the Vanar for his friend. 
If thou my true ally wouldst be 
Accept the pledge I offer thee, 
This hand in sign of friendship take, 
And bind the bond we ne'er will break." 

He spoke, and joy thrilled Rama's breast; 
Sugriva's hand he seized and pressed 
And, transport beaming from his eye, 
Held to his heart his new ally. 
In wanderer's weed disguised no more, 
His proper form Hanuman wore. 
Then, wood with wood engendering, 554 came 
Neath his deft hands the kindled flame. 



554 Fire for sacred purposes is produced by the attrition of two pieces of wood. 
In marriage and other solemn covenants fire is regarded as the holy witness in 
whose presence the agreement is made. Spenser in a description of a marriage, 
has borrowed from the Roman rite what he calls the housling, or "matrimonial 
rite." 

"His owne two hands the holy knots did knit 
That none but death forever can divide. 
His owne two hands, for such a turn most fit, 
The housling fire did kindle and provide." 

Faery Queen, Book I. XII.{FNS 37. 



1168 The Ramayana 

[329] Between the chiefs that fire he placed 

With wreaths of flowers and worship graced. 
And round its blazing glory went 
The friends with slow steps reverent. 

Thus each to other pledged and bound 
In solemn league new transport found, 
And bent upon his dear ally 
The gaze he ne'er could satisfy. 
"Friend of my soul art thou: we share 
Each other's joy, each other's care;" 
Thus in the bliss that thrilled his breast 
Sugriva Raghu's son addressed. 
From a high Sal a branch he tore 
Which many a leaf and blossom bore, 
And the fine twigs beneath them laid 
A seat for him and Rama made. 
Then Hanuman with joyous mind, 
Son of the God who rules the wind, 
To Lakshman gave, his seat to be, 
The gay branch of a Sandal tree. 
Then King Sugriva with his eyes 
Still trembling with the sweet surprise 
Of the great joy he could not hide, 
To Raghu's noblest scion cried: 
"O Rama, racked with woe and fear, 
Spurned by my foes, I wander here. 
Reft of my spouse, forlorn I dwell 
Here in my forest citadel. 
Or wild with terror and distress 
Roam through the distant wilderness. 
Vext by my brother Bali long 
My soul has borne the scathe and wrong. 
Do thou, whose virtues all revere, 



Canto V. The League. 1 169 

Release me from my woe and fear. 
From dire distress thy friend to free 
Is a high task and worthy thee." 

He spoke, and Raghu's son who knew 
All sacred duties men should do. 
The friend of justice, void of guile, 
Thus answered with a gentle smile: 
"Great Vanar, friends who seek my aid 
Still find their trust with fruit repaid. 
Bali, thy foe, who stole away 
Thy wife this vengeful hand shall slay. 
These shafts which sunlike flash and burn, 
Winged with the feathers of the hern, 
Each swift of flight and sure and dread, 
With even knot and pointed head, 
Fierce as the crashing fire-bolt sent 
By him who rules the firmament, 555 
Shall reach thy wicked foe and like 
Infuriate serpents hiss and strike. 
Thou, Vanar King, this day shalt see 
The foe who long has injured thee 
Lie, like a shattered mountain, low, 
Slain by the tempest of my bow." 

Thus Rama spake: Sugriva heard, 
And mighty joy his bosom stirred: 
As thus his champion he addressed: 
"Now by thy favour, first and best 
Of heroes, shall thy friend obtain 
His realm and darling wife again 

Recovered from the foe. 
Check thou mine elder brother's might; 

555 Indra. 



1170 The Ramayana 

That ne'er again his deadly spite 
May rob me of mine ancient right, 

Or vex my soul with woe." 
The league was struck, a league to bring 
To Sita fiends, and Vanar king 556 

Apportioned bliss and bale. 
Through her left eye quick throbbings shot, 557 
Glad signs the lady doubted not, 

That told their hopeful tale. 
The bright left eye of Bali felt 
An inauspicious throb that dealt 

A deadly blow that day. 
The fiery left eyes of the crew 
Of demons felt the throb, and knew 

The herald of dismay. 



Canto VI. The Tokens. 



With joy that sprang from hope restored 
To Rama spake the Vanar lord: 
"I know, by wise Hanuman taught, 
Why thou the lonely wood hast sought. 
Where with thy brother Lakshman thou 
Hast sojourned, bound by hermit vow; 
Have heard how Sita, Janak's child, 
Was stolen in the pathless wild, 
How by a roving Rakshas she 



556 Bali the king de facto. 



557 With the Indians, as with the ancient Greeks, the throbbing of the right eye 
in a man is an auspicious sign, the throbbing of the left eye is the opposite. In 
a woman the significations of signs are reversed. 



Canto VI. The Tokens. 1171 

Weeping was reft from him and thee; 

How, bent on death, the giant slew 

The vulture king, her guardian true, 

And gave thy widowed breast to know 

A solitary mourner's woe. 

But soon, dear Prince, thy heart shall be 

From every trace of sorrow free; [330] 

For I thy darling will restore, 

Lost like the prize of holy lore. 558 

Yea, though in heaven the lady dwell, 

Or prisoned in the depths of hell, 

My friendly care her way shall track 

And bring thy ransomed darling back. 

Let this my promise soothe thy care, 

Nor doubt the words I truly swear. 

Saints, fiends, and dwellers of the skies 

Shall find thy wife a bitter prize, 

Like the rash child who rues too late 

The treacherous lure of poisoned cate. 

No longer, Prince, thy loss deplore: 

Thy darling wife will I restore. 

'Twas she I saw: my heart infers 

That shrinking form was doubtless hers, 

Which gaint Ravan, fierce and dread, 

Bore swiftly through the clouds o'erhead 

Still writhing in his strict embrace 



558 The Vedas stolen by the demons Madhu and Kaitabha. 

"The text has [Sanskrit text] which signifies literally 'the lost vedic tradi- 
tion.' It seems that allusion is here made to the Vedas submerged in the depth 
of the sea, but promptly recovered by Vishnu in one of his incarnations, as the 
brahmanic legend relates, with which the orthodoxy of the Brahmans intended 
perhaps to allude to the prompt restoration and uninterrupted continuity of the 
ancient vedic tradition." 

GORRESIO.{FNS 



1172 The Ramayana 

Like helpless queen of serpent race, 559 

And from her lips that sad voice came 

Shrieking thine own and Lakshman's name. 

High on a hill she saw me stand 

With comrades twain on either hand. 

Her outer robe to earth she threw, 

And with it sent her anklets too. 

We saw the glittering tokens fall, 

We found them there and kept them all. 

These will I bring: perchance thine eyes 

The treasured spoils will recognize." 

He ceased: then Raghu's son replied 
To the glad tale, and eager cried: 
"Bring them with all thy speed: delay 
No more, dear friend, but haste away." 

Thus Rama spoke. Sugriva hied 
Within the mountain's caverned side, 
Impelled by love that stirred each thought 
The precious tokens quickly brought, 
And said to Raghu's son: Behold 
This garment and these rings of gold. 
In Rama's hand with friendly haste 
The jewels and the robe he placed. 
Then, like the moon by mist assailed, 
The tear-dimmed eyes of Rama failed; 
That burst of woe unmanned his frame, 
Woe sprung from passion for his dame, 
And with his manly strength o'erthrown, 



559 Like the wife of a Naga or Serpent-God carried off by an eagle. The enmity 
between the King of birds and the serpent is of very frequent occurrence. It 
seems to be a modification of the strife between the Vedic Indra and the Ahi, 
the serpent or drought-fiend; between Apollon and the Python, Adam and the 
Serpent. 



Canto VI. The Tokens. 1173 

He fell and cried, Ah me! mine own! 
Again, again close to his breast 
The ornaments and robe he pressed, 
While the quick pants that shook his frame 
As from a furious serpent came. 
On his dear brother standing nigh 
He turned at length his piteous eye; 
And, while his tears increasing ran, 
In bitter wail he thus began: 
"Look, brother, and behold once more 
The ornaments and robe she wore, 
Dropped while the giant bore away 
In cruel arras his struggling prey, 
Dropped in some quiet spot, I ween, 
Where the young grass was soft and green; 
For still untouched by spot or stain 
Their former beauty all retain." 



He spoke with many a tear and sigh, 
And thus his brother made reply: 
"The bracelets thou hast fondly shown, 
And earrings, are to me unknown, 
But by long service taught I greet 
The anklets of her honoured feet." 560 



Then to Sugriva Rama, best 
Of Raghu's sons, these words addressed: 



560 He means that he has never ventured to raise his eyes to her arms and face, 
though he has ever been her devoted servant. 



[331] 



1174 The Ramayana 

"Say to what quarter of the sky 
The cruel fiend was seen to fly, 
Bearing afar my captured wife, 
My darling dearer than my life. 
Speak, Vanar King, that I may know 
Where dwells the cause of all my woe; 
The fiend for whose transgression all 
The giants by this hand shall fall. 
He who the Maithil lady stole 
And kindled fury in my soul, 
Has sought his fate in senseless pride 
And opened Death's dark portal wide. 
Then tell me, Vanar lord, I pray, 

The dwelling of my foe, 
And he, beneath this hand, to-day 

To Yama's halls shall go." 



Canto VII. Rama Consoled. 



With longing love and woe oppressed 
The Vanar chief he thus addressed: 
And he, while sobs his utterance broke, 
Raised up his reverent hands and spoke: 



Canto VII. Rama Consoled. 1 175 

"O Raghu's son, I cannot tell 
Where now that cruel fiend may dwell, 
Declare his power and might, or trace 
The author of his cursed race. 
Still trust the promise that I make 
And let thy breast no longer ache. 
So will I toil, nor toil in vain, 
That thou thy consort mayst regain. 
So will I work with might and skill 
That joy anew thy heart shall fill: 
The valour of my soul display, 
And Ravan and his legions slay. 
Awake, awake! unmanned no more 
Recall the strength was thine of yore. 
Beseems not men like thee to wear 
A weak heart yielding to despair. 
Like troubles, too, mine eyes have seen, 
Lamenting for a long-lost queen; 
But, by despair unconquered yet, 
My strength of mind I ne'er forget. 
Far more shouldst thou of lofty soul 
Thy passion and thy tears control, 
When I, of Vanar's humbler strain, 
Weep not for her in ceaseless pain. 
Be firm, be patient, nor forget 
The bounds the brave of heart have set 
In loss, in woe, in strife, in fear, 
When the dark hour of death is near. 
Up! with thine own brave heart advise: 
Not thus despond the firm and wise. 
But he who gives his childish heart 
To choose the coward's weakling part, 
Sinks, like a foundered vessel, deep 
In waves of woe that o'er him sweep. 



1176 The Ramayana 

See, suppliant hand to hand I lay, 
And, moved by faithful love, I pray. 
Give way no more to grief and gloom, 
But all thy native strength resume. 
No joy on earth, I ween, have they 
Who yield their souls to sorrow's sway. 
Their glory fades in slow decline: 
'Tis not for thee to grieve and pine. 
I do but hint with friendly speech 
The wiser part I dare not teach. 
This better path, dear friend, pursue, 
And let not grief thy soul subdue." 

Sugriva thus with gentle art 
And sweet words soothed the mourner's heart, 
Who brushed off with his mantle's hem 
Tears from the eyes bedewed with them. 
Sugriva's words were not in vain, 
And Rama was himself again, 
Around the king his arms he threw 
And thus began his speech anew: 

"Whate'er a friend most wise and true, 
Who counsels for the best, should do, 
Whate'er his gentle part should be, 
Has been performed, dear friend, by thee. 
Taught by thy counsel, O my lord, 
I feel my native strength restored. 
A friend like thee is hard to gain, 
Most rare in time of grief and pain. 
Now strain thine utmost power to trace 
The Maithil lady's dwelling place, 
And aid me in my search to find 
Fierce Ravan of the impious mind. 



Canto VIII. Rama's Promise. 1 177 

Trust thou, in turn, thy loyal friend, 
And say what aid this arm can lend 
To speed thy hopes, as fostering rain 
Quickens in earth the scattered grain. 
Deem not those words, that seemed to spring 
From pride, are false, O Vanar King. 
None from these lips has ever heard, 
None e'er shall hear, one lying word. 
Again I promise and declare, 
Yea, by my truth, dear friend, I swear." 

Then glad was King Sugriva's breast, 
And all his lords their joy confessed, 
Stirred by sure hope of Rama's aid, 
And promise which the prince had made. 



Canto VIII. Rama's Promise. 



Doubt from Sugriva's heart had fled, 
And thus to Raghu's son he said: 
"No bliss the Gods of heaven deny. 
Each views me with a favouring eye, 
When thou, whom all good gifts attend, 
Hast sought me and become my friend. 
Leagued, friend, with thee in bold emprise 
My arm might win the conquered skies; 
And shall our banded strength be weak 
To gain the realm which now I seek? 
A happy fate was mine above 
My kith and kin and all I love, 
When, near the witness fire, I won 



1178 The Ramayana 

Thy friendship, Raghu's glorious son. 
Thou too in ripening time shall see 
Thy friend not all unworthy thee. 
What gifts I have shall thus be shown: 
Not mine the tongue to make them known. 
Strong is the changeless bond that binds 
The friendly faith of noble minds, 
In woe, in danger, firm and sure 
Their constancy and love endure. 
Gold, silver, jewels rich and rare 
[332] They count as wealth for friends to share. 

Yea, be they rich or poor and low, 
Blest with all joys or sunk in woe, 
Stained with each fault or pure of blame, 
Their friends the nearest place may claim; 
For whom they leave, at friendship's call, 
Their gold, their bliss, their homes and all." 

He spoke by generous impulse moved, 
And Raghu's son his speech approved 
Glancing at Lakshman by his side, 
Like Indra in his beauty's pride. 
The Vanar monarch saw the pair 
Of mighty brothers standing there, 
And turned his rapid eye to view 
The forest trees that near him grew. 
He saw, not far from where he stood, 
A Sal tree towering o'er the wood. 
Amid the thick leaves many a bee 
Graced the scant blossoms of the tree, 
From whose dark shade a bough, that bore 
A load of leafy twigs, he tore, 
Which on the grassy ground he laid 
And seats for him and Rama made. 



Canto VIII. Rama's Promise. 1 179 

Hanuman saw them sit, he sought 
A Sal tree's leafy bough and brought 
The burthen, and with meek request 
Entreated Lakshman, too, to rest. 
There on the noble mountain's brow, 
Strewn with the young leaves of the bough, 
Sat Raghu's son in placid ease 
Calm as the sea when sleeps the breeze. 
Sugriva's heart with rapture swelled, 
And thus, by eager love impelled, 
He spoke in gracious tone, that, oft 
Checked by his joy, was low and soft: 
"I, by my brother's might oppressed, 
By ceaseless woe and fear distressed, 
Mourning my consort far away, 
On Rishyamuka's mountain stray. 
Expelled by Bali's cruel hate 
I wander here disconsolate. 
Do thou to whom all sufferers flee, 
From his dread hand deliver me." 

He spoke, and Rama, just and brave, 
Whose pious soul to virtue clave, 
Smiled as in conscious might he eyed 
The king of Vanars, and replied: 
"Best fruit of friendship is the deed 
That helps the friend in hour of need; 
And this mine arm in death shall lay 
Thy robber ere the close of day. 
For see, these feathered darts of mine 
Whose points so fiercely flash and shine, 
And shafts with golden emblem, came 
From dark woods known by Skanda's name, 561 



561 The wood in which Skanda or Kartikeva was brought up: 



1 1 80 The Ramayana 

Winged from the pinion of the hern 
Like Indra's bolts they strike and burn. 
With even knots and piercing head 
Each like a furious snake is sped; 
With these, to-day, before thine eye 
Shall, like a shattered mountain, lie 
Bali, thy dread and wicked foe, 
O'erwhelmed in hideous overthrow." 



He spoke: Sugriva's bosom swelled 
With hope and joy unparalleled. 
Then his glad voice the Vanar raised, 
And thus the son of Raghu praised: 
"Long have I pined in depth of grief; 
Thou art the hope of all, O chief. 
Now, Raghu's son, I hail thee friend, 
And bid thee to my woes attend; 
For, by my truth I swear it, now 
Not life itself is dear as thou, 
Since by the witness fire we met 
And friendly hand in hand was set. 
Friend communes now with friend, and hence 
I tell with surest confidence, 
How woes that on my spirit weigh 
Consume me through the night and day." 



"The Warrior-God 
Whose infant steps amid the thickets strayed 
Where the reeds wave over the holy sod." 



See also Book I, Canto XXIX. 



Canto VIII. Rama's Promise. 1181 

For sobs and sighs he scarce could speak, 
And his sad voice came low and weak, 
As, while his eyes with tears o'erflowed, 
The burden of his soul he showed. 
Then by strong effort, bravely made, 
The torrent of his tears he stayed, 
Wiped his bright eyes, his grief subdued, 
And thus, more calm, his speech renewed: 



"By Bali's conquering might oppressed, 
Of power and kingship dispossessed, 
Loaded with taunts of scorn and hate 
I left my realm and royal state. 
He tore away my consort: she 
Was dearer than my life to me, 
And many a friend to me and mine 
In hopeless chains was doomed to pine. 
With wicked thoughts, unsated still, 
Me whom he wrongs he yearns to kill; 
And spies of Vanar race, who tried 
To slay me, by this hand have died. 
Moved by this constant doubt and fear 
I saw thee, Prince, and came not near. 
When woe and peril gather round 
A foe in every form is found. 
Save Hanuman, O Raghu's son, 
And these, no friend is left me, none. 
Through their kind aid, a faithful band 
Who guard their lord from hostile hand, 
Rest when their chieftain rests and bend 
Their steps where'er he lists to wend, — 
Through them alone, in toil and pain, 
My wretched life I still sustain. [333] 



1 1 82 The Ramayana 

Enough, for thou hast heard in brief 
The story of my pain and grief. 
His mighty strength all regions know, 
My brother, but my deadly foe. 
Ah, if the proud oppressor fell, 
His death would all my woe dispel. 
Yea, on my cruel conqueror's fall 
My joy depends, my life, my all. 
This were the end and sure relief, 
O Rama, of my tale of grief. 
Fair be his lot or dark with woe, 
No comfort like a friend I know." 



Then Rama spoke: "O friend, relate 
Whence sprang fraternal strife and hate, 
That duly taught by thee, I may 
Each foeman's strength and weakness weigh: 
And skilled in every chance restore 
The blissful state thou hadst before. 
For, when I think of all the scorn 
And bitter woe thou long hast borne, 
My soul indignant swells with pain 
Like waters flushed with furious rain. 
Then, ere I string this bended bow, 
Tell me the tale I long to know, 
Ere from the cord my arrow fly, 
And low in death thy foeman lie." 



He spoke: Sugriva joyed to hear, 
Nor less his lords were glad of cheer: 
And thus to Rama mighty-souled 
The cause that moved their strife he told: 



Canto IX. Sugriva's Story. 1 1 83 

562 



Canto IX. Sugriva's Story. 



"My brother, known by Bali's name, 
Had won by might a conqueror's fame. 
My father's eldest-born was he, 
Well honoured by his sire and me. 
My father died, and each sage lord 
Named Bali king with one accord; 
And he, by right of birth ordained, 
The sovereign of the Vanars reigned. 
He in his royal place controlled 
The kingdom of our sires of old, 
And I all faithful service lent 
To aid my brother's government. 
The fiend Mayavi, — him of yore 
To Dundubhi 563 his mother bore, — 
For woman's love in strife engaged, 
A deadly war with Bali waged. 
When sleep had chained each weary frame 
To vast Kishkindha 564 gates he came, 
And, shouting through the shades of night, 
Challenged his foeman to the fight. 
My brother heard the furious shout, 
And wild with rage rushed madly out, 
Though fain would I and each sad wife 
Detain him from the deadly strife. 
He burned his demon foe to slay, 



562 "Sugriva's story paints in vivid colours the manners, customs and ideas 
of the wild mountain tribes which inhabited Kishkindhya or the southern 
hills of the Deccan, of the people whom the poem calls monkeys, tribes 
altogether different in origin and civilization from the Indo-Sanskrit race." 
GORRESIO{FNS. 

563 A fiend slain by Bali. 

564 Bali's mountain city. 



1 1 84 The Ramayana 

And rushed impetuous to the fray. 
His weeping wives he thrust aside, 
And forth, impelled by fury, hied; 
While, by my love and duty led, 
I followed where my brother sped. 
Mayavi looked, and at the sight 
Fled from his foes in wild affright. 
The flying fiend we quickly viewed, 
And with swift feet his steps pursued. 
Then rose the moon, whose friendly ray 
Cast light upon our headlong way. 
By the soft beams was dimly shown 
A mighty cave with grass o'ergrown. 
Within its depths he sprang, and we 
The demon's form no more might see. 
My brother's breast was all aglow 
With fury when he missed the foe, 
And, turning, thus to me he said 
With senses all disquieted: 
"Here by the cavern's mouth remain; 
Keep ear and eye upon the strain, 
While I the dark recess explore 
And dip my brand in foeman's gore." 
I heard his angry speech, and tried 
To turn him from his plan aside. 
He made me swear by both his feet, 
And sped within the dark retreat. 
While in the cave he stayed, and I 
Watched at the mouth, a year went by. 
For his return I looked in vain, 
And, moved by love, believed him slain. 
I mourned, by doubt and fear distressed, 
And greater horror seized my breast 
When from the cavern rolled a flood, 



Canto IX. Sugrfva's Story. 1 185 

A carnage stream of froth and blood; 

And from the depths a sound of fear, 

The roar of demons, smote mine ear; 

But never rang my brother's shout 

Triumphant in the battle rout. 

I closed the cavern with a block, 

Huge as a hill, of shattered rock. 

Gave offerings due to Bali's shade, 

And sought Kishkindha, sore dismayed. 

Long time with anxious care I tried 

From Bali's lords his fate to hide, 

But they, when once the tale was known, 

Placed me as king on Bali's throne. 

There for a while I justly reigned [334] 

And all with equal care ordained, 

When joyous from the demon slain 

My brother Bali came again. 

He found me ruling in his stead, 

And, fired with rage, his eyes grew red. 

He slew the lords who made me king, 

And spoke keen words to taunt and sting. 

The kingly rank and power I held 

My brother's rage with ease had quelled, 

But still, restrained by old respect 

For claims of birth, the thought I checked. 

Thus having struck the demon down 

Came Bali to his royal town. 

With meek respect, with humble speech, 

His haughty heart I strove to reach. 

But all my arts were tried in vain, 

No gentle word his lips would deign, 

Though to the ground I bent and set 

His feet upon my coronet: 

Still Bali in his rage and pride 



1186 The Ramayana 

All signs of grace and love denied." 



Canto X. Sugriva's Story. 



"I strove to soothe and lull to rest 
The fury of his troubled breast: 
"Well art thou come, dear lord," I cried. 
"By whose strong arm thy foe has died. 
Forlorn I languished here, but now 
My saviour and defence art thou. 
Once more receive this regal shade 565 
Like the full moon in heaven displayed; 
And let the chouries, 566 thus restored, 
Wave glorious o'er the rightful lord. 
I kept my watch, thy word obeyed, 
And by the cave a year I stayed. 
But when I saw that stream of blood 
Rush from the cavern in a flood, 
My sad heart broken with dismay, 
And every wandering sense astray, 
I barred the entrance with a stone, — 
A crag from some high mountain thrown- 
Turned from the spot I watched in vain, 
And to Kishkindha came again. 
My deep distress and downcast mien 
By citizen and lord were seen. 
They made me king against my will: 
Forgive me if the deed was ill. 



565 The canopy or royal umbrella, one of the usual Indian regalia. 

566 Whisks made of the hair of the Yak or Bos grunniers, also regal insignia. 



Canto X. Sugriva's Story. 1 1 87 

True as I ever was I see 
My honoured king once more in thee; 
I only ruled a while the state 
When thou hadst left us desolate. 
This town with people, lords, and lands, 
Lay as a trust in guardian hands: 
And now, my gracious lord, accept 
The kingdom which thy servant kept. 
Forgive me, victor of the foe, 
Nor let thy wrath against me glow. 
See joining suppliant hands I pray, 
And at thy feet my head I lay. 
Believe my words: against my will 
The royal seat they made me fill. 
Unkinged they saw the city, hence 
They made me lord for her defence." 

But Bali, though I humbly sued, 
Reviled me in his furious mood: 
"Out on thee, wretch!" in wrath he cried 
With many a bitter taunt beside. 
He summoned every lord, and all 
His subjects gathered at his call. 
Then forth his burning anger broke, 
And thus amid his friends he spoke: 
"I need not tell, for well ye know, 
How fierce Mayavi, fiend and foe, 
Came to Kishkindha's gate by night, 
And dared me in his wrath to fight. 
I heard each word the demon said: 
Forth from my royal hall I sped; 
And, foe in brother's guise concealed, 
Sugriva followed to the field. 
The mighty demon through the shade 



1188 The Ramay ana 

Beheld me come with one to aid: 
Then shrinking from unequal fight, 
He turned his back in swiftest flight. 
From vengeful foes his life to save 
He sought the refuge of a cave. 
Then when I saw the fiend had fled 
Within that cavern dark and dread, 
Thus to my brother cruel-eyed, 
Impatient in my wrath, I cried: 
"I seek no more my royal town 
Till I have struck the demon down. 
Here by the cavern's mouth remain 
Until my hand the foe have slain." 
Upon his faith my heart relied, 
And swift within the depths I hied. 
A year went by: in every spot 
I sought the fiend, but found him not. 
At length my foe I saw and slew, 
Whom long I feared when lost to view; 
And all his kinsmen by his side 
Beneath my vengeful fury died. 
The monster, as he reeled and fell, 
Poured forth his blood with roar and yell; 
And, filling all the cavern, dyed 
The portal with the crimson tide. 
Upon my foeman slain at last 
One look, one pitying look, I cast. 
I sought again the light of day: 
The cave was closed and left no way. 
To the barred mouth I sadly came, 
And called aloud Sugriva's name. 
[335] But all was still: no voice replied, 

And hope within my bosom died. 
With furious efforts, vain at first, 



Canto X. Sugriva's Story. 1 1 89 

Through bars of rock my way I burst. 
Then, free once more, the path that brought 
My feet in safety home I sought. 
'Twas thus Sugriva dared despise 
The claim of brothers' friendly ties. 
With crags of rock he barred me in, 
And for himself the realm would win." 

Thus Bali spoke in words severe; 
And then, unmoved by ruth or fear, 
Left me a single robe and sent 
His brother forth in banishment. 
He cast me out with scathe and scorn, 
And from my side my wife was torn. 
Now in great fear and ill at ease 
I roam this land with woods and seas, 
Or dwell on Rishyamuka's hill, 
And sorrow for my consort still. 
Thou hast the tale how first arose 
This bitter hate of brother foes. 
Such are the griefs neath which I pine, 
And all without a fault of mine. 
O swift to save in hour of fear, 
My prayer who dread this Bali, hear 
With gracious love assistance deign, 
And mine oppressor's arm restrain." 

Then Raghu's son, the good and brave, 
With a gay laugh his answer gave: 
"These shafts of mine which ne'er can fail, 
Before whose sheen the sun grows pale, 
Winged by my fury, fleet and fierce, 
The wicked Bali's heart shall pierce. 
Yea, mark the words I speak, so long 



1 1 90 The Ramayana 

Shall live that wretch who joys in wrong, 
Until these angered eyes have seen 
The robber of thy darling queen. 
I, taught by equal suffering, know 
What waves of grief above thee flow. 
This hand thy captive wife shall free, 
And give thy kingdom back to thee." 

Sugriva joyed as Rama spoke, 
And valour in his breast awoke. 
His eye grew bright, his heart grew bold, 
And thus his wondrous tale he told: 



Canto XI. Dundubhi. 



"I doubt not, Prince, thy peerless might, 

Armed with these shafts so keen and bright, 

Like all-destroying fires of fate, 

The worlds could burn and devastate. 

But lend thou first thy mind and ear 

Of Bali's power and might to hear. 

How bold, how firm, in battle tried, 

Is Bali's heart; and then decide. 

From east to west, from south to north 

On restless errand hurrying forth, 

From farthest sea to sea he flies 

Before the sun has lit the skies. 

A mountain top he oft will seek, 

Tear from its root a towering peak, 

Hurl it aloft, as 'twere a ball, 

And catch it ere to earth it fall. 



Canto XI. Dundubhi. 1191 

And many a tree that long has stood 

In health and vigour in the wood, 

His single arm to earth will throw, 

The marvels of his might to show. 

Shaped like a bull, a monster bore 

The name of Dundubhi of yore: 

He matched in size a mountain height, 

A thousand elephants in might. 

By pride of wondrous gifts impelled, 

And strength he deemed unparalleled, 

To Ocean, lord of stream and brook, 

Athirst for war, his way he took. 

He reached the king of rolling waves 

Whose gems are piled in sunless caves, 

And threw his challenge to the sea; 

"Come forth, O King, and fight with me." 

He spoke, and from his ocean bed 

The righteous 567 monarch heaved his head, 

And gave, sedate, his calm reply 

To him whom fate impelled to die: 

"Not mine, not mine the power," he cried, 

"To cope with thee in battle tried; 

But listen to my voice, and seek 

The worthier foe of whom I speak. 

The Lord of Hills, where hermits live 

And love the home his forests give, 

Whose child is Sankar's darling queen, 568 

The King of Snows is he I mean. 

Deep caves has he, and dark boughs shade 



567 Righteous because he never transgresses his bounds, and 

"over his great tides 
Fidelity presides." 

568 Himalaya, the Lord of Snow, is the father of Uma the wife of Siva or Sankar. 



1192 The Ramayana 

The torrent and the wild cascade. 
From him expect the fierce delight 
Which heroes feel in equal fight." 

He deemed that fear checked ocean's king, 
And, like an arrow from the string, 
To the wild woods that clothe the side 
Of Lord Himalaya's hills he hied. 
Then Dundubhi, with hideous roar, 
Huge fragments from the summit tore 
Vast as Airavat, 569 white with snow, 
And hurled them to the plains below. 
Then like a white cloud soft, serene, 
The Lord of Mountains' form was seen. 
It sat upon a lofty crest, 
And thus the furious fiend addressed: 
"Beseems thee not, O virtue's friend, 
[336] My mountain tops to rive and rend; 

For I, the hermit's calm retreat, 
For deeds of war am all unmeet." 

The demon's eye with rage grew red, 
And thus in furious tone he said: 
"If thou from fear or sloth decline 
To match thy strength in war with mine, 
Where shall I find a champion, say, 
To meet me burning for the fray?" 
He spoke: Himalaya, skilled in lore 
Of eloquence, replied once more, 
And, angered in his righteous mind, 
Addressed the chief of demon kind: 
"The Vanar Bali, brave and wise, 



569 Indra's celestial elephant. 



Canto XI. Dundubhi. 1193 

Son of the God who rules the skies, 570 
Sways, glorious in his high renown, 
Kishkindha his imperial town. 
Well may that valiant lord who knows 
Each art of war his might oppose 
To thine, in equal battle set, 
As Namuehi 571 and Indra met. 
Go, if thy soul desire the fray; 
To Bali's city speed away, 
And that unconquered hero meet 
Whose fame is high for warlike feat." 
He listened to the Lord of Snow, 
And, his proud heart with rage aglow, 
Sped swift away and lighted down 
By vast Kishkindha, Bali's town. 
With pointed horns to strike and gore 
The semblance of a bull he bore, 
Huge as a cloud that downward bends 
Ere the full flood of rain descends. 
Impelled by pride and rage and hate, 
He thundered at Kishkindha's gate; 
And with his bellowing, like the sound 
Of pealing drums, he shook the ground, 
He rent the earth and prostrate threw 
The trees that near the portal grew. 
King Bali from the bowers within 
Indignant heard the roar and din. 
Then, moonlike mid the stars, with all 
His dames he hurried to the wall; 
And to the fiend this speech, expressed 
In clear and measured words, addressed: 



570 Bali was the son of Indra. See p. 28. 



571 An Asur slain by Indra. See p. 261 Note. He is, like Vritra, a form of the 
demon of drought destroyed by the beneficent God of the firmament. 



1194 The Ramayana 

"Know me for monarch. Bali styled, 
Of Vanar tribes that roam the wild. 
Say why dost thou this gate molest, 
And bellowing thus disturb our rest? 
I know thee, mighty fiend: beware 
And guard thy life with wiser care." 
He spoke: and thus the fiend returned, 
While red with rage his eyeballs burned: 
"What! speak when all thy dames are nigh 
And hero-like thy foe defy? 
Come, meet me in the fight this day, 
And learn my strength by bold assay. 
Or shall I spare thee, and relent 
Until the coming night be spent? 
Take then the respite of a night 
And yield thee to each soft delight. 
Then, monarch of the Vanar race 
With loving arms thy friends embrace. 
Gifts on thy faithful lords bestow, 
Bid each and all farewell, and go. 
Show in the streets once more thy face, 
Install thy son to fill thy place. 
Dally a while with each dear dame; 
And then my strength thy pride shall tame 
For, should I smite thee drunk with wine 
Enamoured of those dames of thine, 
Beneath diseases bowed and bent, 
Or weak, unarmed, or negligent, 
My deed would merit hate and scorn 
As his who slays the child unborn." 
Then Bali's soul with rage was fired, 
Queen Tara and the dames retired; 
And slowly, with a laugh of pride, 
The king of Vanars thus replied: 



Canto XI. Dundubhi. 1195 

"Me, fiend, thou deemest drunk with wine: 

Unless thy fear the fight decline, 

Come, meet me in the fray, and test 

The spirit of my valiant breast." 

He spoke in wrath and high disdain; 

And, laying down his golden chain, 

Gift of his sire Mahendra, dared 

The demon, for the fray prepared; 

Seized by the horns the monster, vast 

As a huge hill, and held him fast, 

Then fiercely dragged him round and round, 

And, shouting, hurled him to the ground. 

Blood streaming from his ears, he rose, 

And wild with fury strove the foes. 

Then Bali, match for Indra's might, 

With every arm renewed the fight. 

He fought with fists, and feet, and knees, 

With fragments of the rock, and trees. 

At last the monster's strength, assailed 

By Sakra's 572 conquering offspring, failed. 

Him Bali raised with mighty strain 

And dashed upon the ground again; 

Where, bruised and shattered, in a tide 

Of rushing blood, the demon died. 

King Bali saw the lifeless corse, 

And bending, with tremendous force 

Raised the huge bulk from where it lay, 

And hurled it full a league away. 

As through the air the body flew, 

Some blood-drops, caught by gales that blew, 

Welled from his shattered jaw and fell 

By Saint Matanga's hermit cell: 



1 1 96 The Ramayana 

Matanga saw, illustrious sage, 
[337] Those drops defile his hermitage, 

And, as he marvelled whence they came, 
Fierce anger filled his soul with flame: 
"Who is the villain, evil-souled, 
With childish thoughts unwise and bold, 
Who is the impious wretch," he cried, 
"By whom my grove with blood is dyed?" 

Thus spoke Matanga in his rage, 
And hastened from the hermitage, 
When lo, before his wondering eyes 
Lay the dead bull of mountain size. 
His hermit soul was nothing slow 
The doer of the deed to know, 
And thus the Vanar in a burst 
Of wild tempestuous wrath he cursed: 
"Ne'er let that Vanar wander here, 
For, if he come, his death is near, 
Whose impious hand with blood has dyed 
The holy place where I abide, 
Who threw this demon corse and made 
A ruin of the pleasant shade. 
If e'er he plant his wicked feet 
Within one league of my retreat; 
Yea, if the villain come so nigh 
That very hour he needs must die. 
And let the Vanar lords who dwell 
In the dark woods that skirt my cell 
Obey my words, and speeding hence 
Find them some meeter residence. 
Here if they dare to stay, on all 
The terrors of my curse shall fall. 
They spoil the tender saplings, dear 



Canto XI. Dundubhi. 1197 

As children which I cherish here, 

Mar root and branch and leaf and spray, 

And steal the ripening fruit away. 

One day I grant, no further hour, 

To-morrow shall my curse have power, 

And then each Vanar I may see 

A stone through countless years shall be." 

The Vanars heard the curse and hied 

From sheltering wood and mountain side. 

King Bali marked their haste and dread, 

And to the flying leaders said: 

"Speak, Vanar chiefs, and tell me why 

From Saint Matanga's grove ye fly 

To gather round me: is it well 

With all who in those woodlands dwell?" 

He spoke: the Vanar leaders told 

King Bali with his chain of gold 

What curse the saint had on them laid, 

Which drove them from their ancient shade. 

Then royal Bali sought the sage, 

With reverent hands to soothe his rage. 

The holy man his suppliant spurned, 

And to his cell in anger turned. 

That curse on Bali sorely pressed, 

And long his conscious soul distressed. 

Him still the curse and terror keep 

Afar from Rishyamuka's steep. 

He dares not to the grove draw nigh, 

Nay scarce will hither turn his eye. 

We know what terrors warm him hence, 

And roam these woods in confidence. 

Look, Prince, before thee white and dry 

The demon's bones uncovered lie, 

Who, like a hill in bulk and length, 



1198 The Ramayana 

Fell mind for his pride of strength. 
See those high Sal trees seven in row 
That droop their mighty branches low, 
These at one grasp would Bali seize, 
And leafless shake the trembling trees. 
These tales I tell, O Prince, to show 
The matchless power that arms the foe. 
How canst thou hope to slay him? how 
Meet Bali in the battle now?" 



Sugriva spoke and sadly sighed: 
And Lakshman with a laugh replied: 
"What show of power, what proof and test 
May still the doubts that fill thy breast?" 



He spoke. Sugriva thus replied: 
"See yonder Sal trees side by side. 
King Bali here would take his stand 
Grasping his bow with vigorous hand, 
And every arrow, keen and true, 
Would strike its tree and pierce it through. 
If Rama now his bow will bend, 
And through one trunk an arrow send; 
Or if his arm can raise and throw 
Two hundred measures of his bow, 
Grasped by a foot and hurled through air, 
The demon bull that moulders there, 
My heart will own his might and fain 
Believe my foe already slain." 



Canto XI. Dundubhi. 1199 

Sugriva spoke inflamed with ire, 
Scanned Rama with a glance of fire, 
Pondered a while in silent mood. 
And thus again his speech renewed: 
"All lands with Bali's glories ring, 
A valiant, strong, and mighty king; 
In conscious power unused to yield, 
A hero first in every field. 
His wondrous deeds his might declare, 
Deeds Gods might scarcely do or dare; 
And on this power reflecting still 
I roam on Rishyamuka's hill. 
Awed by my brother's might I rove, 
In doubt and fear, from grove to grove, 
While Hanuman, my chosen friend, 
And faithful lords my steps attend; 
And now, O true to friendship's tie, 
I hail in thee my best ally. 
My surest refuge from my foes, 
And steadfast as the Lord of Snows. 
Still, when I muse how strong and bold 
Is cruel Bali, evil-souled, 
But ne'er, O chief of Raghu's line, 
Have seen what strength in war is thine, 
Though in my heart I may not dare 
Doubt thy great might, despise, compare, 
Thoughts of his fearful deeds will rise 
And fill my soul with sad surmise. 

Speech, form, and trust which naught may move [338] 

Thy secret strength and glory prove, 
As smouldering ashes dimly show 
The dormant fires that live below." 



1200 The Ramayana 

He ceased: and Rama answered, while 
Played o'er his lips a gracious smile: 
"Not yet convinced? This clear assay 
Shall drive each lingering doubt away." 
Thus Rama spoke his heart to cheer, 
To Dundubhi's vast frame drew near: 
He touched it with his foot in play 
And sent it twenty leagues away. 
Sugriva marked what easy force 
Hurled through the air that demon's corse 
Whose mighty bones were white and dried, 
And to the son of Raghu cried: 
"My brother Bali, when his might 
Was drunk and weary from the fight, 
Hurled forth the monster body, fresh 
With skin and sinews, blood and flesh. 
Now flesh and blood are dried away, 
The crumbling bones are light as hay, 
Which thou, O Raghu's son, hast sent 
Flying through air in merriment. 
This test alone is weak to show 
If thou be stronger or the foe. 
By thee a heap of mouldering bone, 
By him the recent corse was thrown. 
Thy strength, O Prince, is yet untried: 
Come, pierce one tree: let this decide. 
Prepare thy ponderous bow and bring 
Close to thine ear the straining string. 
On yonder Sal tree fix thine eye, 
And let the mighty arrow fly, 
I doubt not, chief, that I shall see 
Thy pointed shaft transfix the tree. 
Then come, assay the easy task, 
And do for love the thing I ask. 



Canto XII. The Palm Trees. 1201 

Best of all lights, the Day-God fills 

With glory earth and sky: 
Himalaya is the lord of hills 

That heave their heads on high. 
The royal lion is the best 

Of beasts that tread the earth; 
And thou, O hero, art confessed 

First in heroic worth." 



Canto XII. The Palm Trees. 



Then Rama, that his friend might know 
His strength unrivalled, grasped his bow, 
That mighty bow the foe's dismay, — 
And on the string an arrow lay. 
Next on the tree his eye he bent, 
And forth the hurtling weapon went. 
Loosed from the matchless hero's hold, 
That arrow, decked with burning gold, 
Cleft the seven palms in line, and through 
The hill that rose behind them flew: 
Six subterranean realms it passed, 
And reached the lowest depth at last, 
Whence speeding back through earth and air 
It sought the quiver, and rested there. 
Upon the cloven trees amazed, 
The sovereign of the Vanars gazed. 
With all his chains and gold outspread 
Prostrate on earth he laid his head. 



573 The Bengal recension makes it return in the form of a swan. 



1202 The Ramayana 

Then, rising, palm to palm he laid 

In reverent act, obeisance made, 

And joyously to Rama, best 

Of war-trained chiefs, these words addressed: 

"What champion, Raghu's son, may hope 
With thee in deadly fight to cope, 
Whose arrow, leaping from the bow, 
Cleaves tree and hill and earth below? 
Scarce might the Gods, arrayed for strife 
By Indra's self, escape, with life 
Assailed by thy victorious hand: 
And how may Bali hope to stand? 
All grief and care are past away, 
And joyous thoughts my bosom sway, 
Who have in thee a friend, renowned, 
As Varun 574 or as Indra, found. 
Then on! subdue, — 'tis friendship's claim, — 
My foe who bears a brother's name. 
Strike Bali down beneath thy feet: 
With suppliant hands I thus entreat." 
Sugriva ceased, and Rama pressed 
The grateful Vanar to his breast; 
And thoughts of kindred feeling woke 
In Lakshman's bosom, as he spoke: 
"On to Kishkindha, on with speed! 
Thou, Vanar King, our way shalt lead, 
Then challenge Bali forth to fight. 



574 Varuna is one of the oldest of the Vedic Gods, corresponding in name and 
partly in character to the Oupavoc, of the Greeks and is often regarded as the 
supreme deity. He upholds heaven and earth, possesses extraordinary power 
and wisdom, sends his messengers through both worlds, numbers the very 
winkings of men's eyes, punishes transgressors whom he seizes with his deadly 
noose, and pardons the sins of those who are penitent. In later mythology he 
has become the God of the sea. 



Canto XII. The Palm Trees. 1203 

Thy foe who scorns a brother's right." 

They sought Kishkindha's gate and stood 
Concealed by trees in densest wood, 
Sugriva, to the fight addressed, 
More closely drew his cinctured vest, 

And raised a wild sky -piercing shout [339] 

To call the foeman Bali out. 

Forth came impetuous Bali, stirred 
To fury by the shout he heard. 
So the great sun, ere night has ceased, 
Springs up impatient to the east. 
Then fierce and wild the conflict raged 
As hand to hand the foes engaged, 
As though in battle mid the stars 
Fought Mercury and fiery Mars. 
To highest pitch of frenzy wrought 
With fists like thunderbolts they fought, 
While near them Rama took his stand, 
And viewed the battle, bow in hand. 
Alike they stood in form and might, 
Like heavenly Asvins 576 paired in fight, 
Nor might the son of Raghu know 
Where fought the friend and where the foe; 



575 Budha, not to be confounded with the great reformer Buddha, is the son of 
Soma or the Moon, and regent of the planet Mercury. Angara is the regent of 
Mars who is called the red or the fiery planet. The encounter between Michael 
and Satan is similarly said to have been as if 

"Two planets rushing from aspect malign 

Of fiercest opposition in midsky 

Should combat, and their jarring spheres compound." 

Paradise Lost. Book VI. 

576 The Asvins or Heavenly Twins, the Dioskuri or Castor and Pollux of the 
Hindus, have frequently been mentioned. See p. 36, Note. 



1204 The Ramayana 

So, while his bow was ready bent, 
No life-destroying shaft he sent. 
Crushed down by Bali's mightier stroke 
Sugriva's force now sank and broke, 
Who, hoping naught from Rama's aid, 
To Rishyamuka fled dismayed, 
Weary, and faint, and wounded sore, 
His body bruised and dyed with gore, 
From Bali's blows, in rage and dread, 
Afar to sheltering woods he fled. 



Nor Bali farther dared pursue, 
The curbing curse too well he knew. 
"Fled from thy death!" the victor cried, 
And home the mighty warrior hied. 
Hanuman, Lakshman, Raghu's son 
Beheld the conquered Vanar run, 
And followed to the sheltering shade 
Where yet Sugriva stood dismayed. 
Near and more near the chieftains came, 
Then, for intolerable shame, 
Not daring yet to lift his eyes, 
Sugriva spoke with burning sighs: 
"Thy matchless strength I first beheld, 
And dared my foe, by thee impelled. 
Why hast thou tried me with deceit 
And urged me to a sure defeat? 
Thou shouldst have said, "I will not slay 
Thy foeman in the coming fray." 
For had I then thy purpose known 
I had not waged the fight alone." 



Canto XII. The Palm Trees. 1205 

The Vanar sovereign, lofty-souled, 
In plaintive voice his sorrows told. 
Then Rama spake: "Sugriva, list, 
All anger from thy heart dismissed, 
And I will tell the cause that stayed 
Mine arrow, and withheld the aid. 
In dress, adornment, port, and height, 
In splendour, battle-shout, and might, 
No shade of difference could I see 
Between thy foe, O King, and thee. 
So like was each, I stood at gaze, 
My senses lost in wildering maze, 
Nor loosened from my straining bow 
A deadly arrow at the foe, 
Lest in my doubt the shaft should send 
To sudden death our surest friend. 
O, if this hand in heedless guilt 
And rash resolve thy blood had spilt, 
Through every land, O Vanar King, 
My wild and foolish act would ring. 
Sore weight of sin on him must lie 
By whom a friend is made to die; 
And Lakshman, I, and Sita, best 
Of dames, on thy protection rest. 
On, warrior! for the fight prepare; 
Nor fear again thy foe to dare. 
Within one hour thine eye shall view 
My arrow strike thy foeman through; 
Shall see the stricken Bali lie 
Low on the earth, and gasp and die. 
But come, a badge about thee bind, 
O monarch of the Vanar kind, 
That in the battle shock mine eyes 
The friend and foe may recognize. 



[340] 



1206 The Ramayana 

Come, Lakshman, let that creeper deck 
With brightest bloom Sugriva's neck, 
And be a happy token, twined 
Around the chief of lofty mind." 

Upon the mountain slope there grew 
A threading creeper fair to view, 
And Lakshman plucked the bloom and round 
Sugriva's neck a garland wound. 
Graced with the flowery wreath he wore, 
The Vanar chief the semblance bore 
Of a dark cloud at close of day 
Engarlanded with cranes at play, 
In glorious light the Vanar glowed 
As by his comrade's side he strode, 
And, still on Rama's word intent, 
His steps to great Kishkindha bent. 



Canto XIII. The Return To Kishkindha. 

Thus with Sugriva, from the side 

Of Rishyamuka, Rama hied, 

And stood before Kishkindha' s gate 

Where Bali kept his regal state. 

The hero in his warrior hold 

Raised his great bow adorned with gold, 

And drew his pointed arrow bright 

As sunbeams, finisher of fight. 

Strong-necked Sugriva led the way 

With Lakshman mighty in the fray. 



Canto XIII. The Return To Kishkindha. 1207 

Nala and Nila came behind 

With Hanuman of lofty mind, 

And valiant Tara, last in place, 

A leader of the Vanar race. 

They gazed on many a tree that showed 

The glory of its pendent load, 

And brook and limpid rill that made 

Sweet murmurs as they seaward strayed. 

They looked on caverns dark and deep, 

On bower and glen and mountain steep, 

And saw the opening lotus stud 

With roseate cup the crystal flood, 

While crane and swan and coot and drake 

Made pleasant music on the lake, 

And from the reedy bank was heard 

The note of many a happy bird. 

In open lawns, in tangled ways, 

They saw the tall deer stand at gaze, 

Or marked them free and fearless roam, 

Fed with sweet grass, their woodland home. 

At times two flashing tusks between 

The wavings of the wood were seen, 

And some mad elephant, alone, 

Like a huge moving hill, was shown. 

And scarcely less in size appeared 

Great monkeys all with dust besmeared. 

And various birds that roam the skies, 

And silvan creatures, met their eyes, 

As through the wood the chieftains sped, 

And followed where Sugriva led. 

Then Rama, as their way they made, 
Saw near at hand a lovely shade, 
And, as he gazed upon the trees, 



1208 The Ramayana 

Spake to Sugriva words like these; 
"Those stately trees in beauty rise, 
Fair as a cloud in autumn skies. 
I fain, my friend, would learn from thee 
What pleasant grove is that I see." 

Thus Rama spake, the mighty souled; 
And thus his tale Sugriva told: 

"That, Rama, is a wide retreat 
That brings repose to weary feet. 
Bright streams and fruit and roots are there, 
And shady gardens passing fair. 
There, neath the roof of hanging boughs, 
The sacred Seven maintained their vows. 
Their heads in dust were lowly laid, 
In streams their nightly beds were made. 
Each seventh night they broke their fast, 
But air was still their sole repast, 
And when seven hundred years were spent 
To homes in heaven the hermits went. 
Their glory keeps the garden yet, 
With walls of stately trees beset. 
Scarce would the Gods and demons dare, 
By Indra led, to enter there. 
No beast that roams the wood is found, 
No bird of air, within the bound; 
Or, thither if they idly stray, 
They find no more their homeward way. 
You hear at times mid dulcet tones 
The chime of anklets, rings, and zones. 
You hear the song and music sound, 
And heavenly fragrance breathes around, 



Canto XIII. The Return To Kishkindha. 1209 

There duly burn the triple fires 577 
Where mounts the smoke in curling spires, 
And, in a dun wreath, hangs above 
The tall trees, like a brooding dove. 
Round branch and crest the vapours close 
Till every tree enveloped shows 
A hill of lazulite when clouds 
Hang round it with their misty shrouds. 
With Lakshman, lord of Raghu's line, 
In reverent guise thine head incline, 
And with fixt heart and suppliant hand 
Give honour to the sainted band. 
They who with faithful hearts revere 
The holy Seven who harboured here, 
Shall never, son of Raghu, know 
In all their lives an hour of woe." 



Then Rama and his brother bent, 
And did obeisance reverent 
With suppliant hand and lowly head, 
Then with Sugriva onward sped. 
Beyond the sainted Seven's abode 
Far on their way the chieftains strode, 
And great Kishkindha's portal gained, 
The royal town where Bali reigned. 
Then by the gate they took their stand 
All ready armed a noble band, 

And burning every one 
To slay in battle, hand to hand, 

Their foeman, Indra's son. 



577 Called respectively Garhapatya, Ahavaniya, and Dakshina, household, 
sacrificial, and southern. 



1210 The Ramayana 

Canto XIV. The Challenge. 

They stood where trees of densest green 
Wove round their forms a veiling screen. 
O'er all the garden's pleasant shade 
[341] The eyes of King Sugriva strayed, 

And, as on grass and tree he gazed, 
The fires of wrath within him blazed. 
Then like a mighty cloud on high, 
When roars the tempest through the sky, 
Girt by his friends he thundered out 
His dread sky-rending battle-shout 
Like some proud lion in his gait, 
Or as the sun begins his state, 
Sugriva let his quick glance rest 
On Rama whom he thus addressed: 
"There is the seat of Bali's sway, 
Where flags on wall and turret play, 
Which mighty bands of Vanars hold, 
Rich in all arms and store of gold. 
Thy promise to thy mind recall 
That Bali by thy hand shall fall. 
As kindly fruits adorn the bough. 
So give my hopes their harvest now." 

In suppliant tone the Vanar prayed, 
And Raghu's son his answer made: 
"By Lakshman's hand this flowery twine 
Was wound about thee for a sign. 
The wreath of giant creeper throws 
About thy form its brillant glows, 
As though about the sun were set 
The bright stars for a coronet. 
One shaft of mine this day, dear friend, 



Canto XIV. The Challenge. 121 1 

Thy sorrow and thy fear shall end. 

And, from the bowstring freed, shall be 

Giver of freedom, King, to thee. 

Then come, Sugriva, quickly show, 

Where'er he lie, thy bitter foe; 

And let my glance the wretch descry 

Whose deeds, a brother's name belie. 

Yea, soon in dust and blood o'erthrown 

Shall Bali fall and gasp and groan. 

Once let this eye the foeman see, 

Then, if he live to turn and flee, 

Despise my puny strength, and shame 

With foul opprobrium Rama's name. 

Hast thou not seen his hand, O King, 

Through seven tall trees one arrow wing? 

Still in that strength securely trust, 

And deem thy foeman in the dust. 

In all my days, though surely tried 

By grief and woe, I ne'er have lied; 

And still by duty's law restrained 

Will ne'er with falsehood's charge be stained. 

Cast doubt away: the oath I sware 

Its kindly fruit shall quickly bear, 

As smiles the land with golden grain 

By mercy of the Lord of rain. 

Oh, warrior to the gate I defy 

Thy foe with shout and battle-cry, 

Till Bali with his chain of gold 

Come speeding from his royal hold. 

Proud hearts, with warlike fire aglow, 

Brook not the challenge of a foe: 

Each on his power and might relies, 

And most before his ladies eyes. 

King Bali loves the fray too well 



1212 The Ramayana 

To linger in his citadel, 

And, when he hears thy battle-shout, 

All wild for war will hasten out." 



He spoke. Sugriva raised a cry 
That shook and rent the echoing sky, 
A shout so fierce and loud and dread 
That stately bulls in terror fled, 
Like dames who fly from threatened stain 
In some ignoble monarch's reign. 
The deer in wild confusion ran 
Like horses turned in battle's van. 
Down fell the birds, like Gods who fall 
When merits fail, 578 at that dread call. 
So fiercely, boldened for the fray, 
The offspring of the Lord of Day 
Sent forth his furious shout as loud 
As thunder from a labouring cloud, 
Or, where the gale blows fresh and free, 
The roaring of the troubled sea. 



Canto XV. Tara. 

578 The store of merit accumulated by a holy or austere life secures only a 
temporary seat in the mansion of bliss. When by the lapse of time this store is 
exhausted, return to earth is unavoidable. 



Canto XV. Tara. 1213 

That shout, which shook the land with fear, 

In thunder smote on Bali's ear, 

Where in the chamber barred and closed 

The sovereign with his dame reposed. 

Each amorous thought was rudely stilled, 

And pride and rage his bosom filled. 

His angry eyes flashed darkly red, 

And all his native brightness fled, 

As when, by swift eclipse assailed, 

The glory of the sun has failed. 

While in his fury uncontrolled 

He ground his teeth, his eyeballs rolled, 

He seemed a lake wherein no gem 

Of blossom decks the lotus stem. 

He heard, and with indignant pride 

Forth from the bower the Vanar hied. 

And the earth trembled at the beat 

And fury of his hastening feet. 

But Tara to her consort flew, 

Her loving arms around him threw, 

And trembling and bewildered, gave 

Wise counsel that might heal and save: 

"O dear my lord, this rage control 

That like a torrent floods thy soul, 

And cast these idle thoughts away 

Like faded wreath of yesterday, 

O tarry till the morning light, 

Then, if thou wilt, go forth and fight. [342] 

Think not I doubt thy valour, no; 

Or deem thee weaker than thy foe, 

Yet for a while would have thee stay 

Nor see thee tempt the fight to-day. 

Now list, my loving lord, and learn 

The reason why I bid thee turn. 



1214 The Ramayana 

Thy foeman came in wrath and pride, 

And thee to deadly fight defied. 

Thou wentest out: he fought, and fled 

Sore wounded and discomfited. 

But yet, untaught by late defeat, 

He comes his conquering foe to meet, 

And calls thee forth with cry and shout: 

Hence spring, my lord, this fear and doubt. 

A heart so bold that will not yield, 

But yearns to tempt the desperate field, 

Such loud defiance, fiercely pressed, 

On no uncertain hope can rest. 

So lately by thine arm o'erthrown, 

He comes not back, I ween, alone. 

Some mightier comrade guards his side, 

And spurs him to this burst of pride. 

For nature made the Vanar wise: 

On arms of might his hope relies; 

And never will Sugriva seek 

A friend whose power to save is weak. 

Now listen while my lips unfold 

The wondrous tale my Angad told. 

Our child the distant forest sought, 

And, learnt from spies, the tidings brought. 

Two sons of Dasaratha, sprung 

From old Ikshvaku, brave and young, 

Renowned in arms, in war untamed — 

Rama and Lakshman are they named — 

Have with thy foe Sugriva made 

A league of love and friendly aid. 

Now Rama, famed for exploit high, 

Is bound thy brother's firm ally, 



Canto XV. Tara. 1215 

Like fires of doom 579 that ruin all 
He makes each foe before him fall. 
He is the suppliant's sure defence, 
The tree that shelters innocence. 
The poor and wretched seek his feet: 
In him the noblest glories meet. 
With skill and knowledge vast and deep 
His sire's commands he loved to keep; 
With princely gifts and graces stored 
As metals deck the Mountains' Lord. 580 
Thou canst not, O my hero, stand 
Before the might of Rama's hand; 
For none may match his powers or dare 
With him in deeds of war compare. 
Hear, I entreat, the words I say, 
Nor lightly turn my rede away. 
O let fraternal discord cease, 
And link you in the bonds of peace. 
Let consecrating rites ordain 
Sugriva partner of thy reign. 
Let war and thoughts of conflict end, 
And be thou his and Rama's friend, 
Each soft approach of love begin, 
And to thy soul thy brother win; 
For whether here or there he be, 
Thy brother still, dear lord, is he. 
Though far and wide these eyes I strain 
A friend like him I seek in vain. 
Let gentle words his heart incline, 
And gifts and honours make him thine, 
Till, foes no more, in love allied, 
You stand as brothers side by side. 



579 The conflagration which destroys the world at the end of a Yuga or age. 

580 Himalaya. 



1216 The Ramayana 

Thou in high rank wast wont to hold 
Sugriva, formed in massive mould; 
Then come, thy brother's love regain, 
For other aids are weak and vain. 
If thou would please my soul, and still 
Preserve me from all fear and ill, 
I pray thee by thy love be wise 
And do the thing which I advise. 
Assuage thy fruitless wrath, and shun 
The mightier arms of Raghu's son; 
For Indra's peer in might is he, 
A foe too strong, my lord, for thee." 



Canto XVI. The Fall Of Bali. 



Thus Tar a with the starry eyes 581 
Her counsel gave with burning sighs. 
But Bali, by her prayers unmoved, 
Spurned her advice, and thus reproved: 
"How may this insult, scathe, and scorn 
By me, dear love, be tamely born? 
My brother, yea my foe, comes nigh 
And dares me forth with shout and cry. 
Learn, trembler! that the valiant, they 
Who yield no step in battle fray, 
Will die a thousand deaths but ne'er 
An unavenged dishonour bear. 
Nor, O my love, be thou dismayed 



581 Tara means "star." The poet plays upon the name by comparing her beauty 
to that of the Lord of stars, the Moon. 



Canto XVI. The Fall Of Bali. 1217 

Though Rama lend Sugriva aid, 

For one so pure and duteous, one 

Who loves the right, all sin will shun, 

Release me from thy soft embrace, 

And with thy dames thy steps retrace: 

Enough already, O mine own, 

Of love and sweet devotion shown. 

Drive all thy fear and doubt away; 

I seek Sugriva in the fray 

His boisterous rage and pride to still, 

And tame the foe I would not kill. 

My fury, armed with brandished trees, 

Shall strike Sugriva to his knees: [343] 

Nor shall the humbled foe withstand 

The blows of my avenging hand, 

When, nerved by rage and pride, I beat 

The traitor down beneath my feet. 

Thou, love, hast lent thine own sweet aid, 

And all thy tender care displayed; 

Now by my life, by these who yearn 

To serve thee well, I pray thee turn. 

But for a while, dear dame, I go 

To come triumphant o'er the foe." 



Thus Bali spake in gentlest tone: 
Soft arms about his neck were thrown; 
Then round her lord the lady went 
With sad steps slow and reverent. 
She stood in solemn guise to bless 
With prayers for safety and success, 
Then with her train her chamber sought 
By grief and racking fear distraught. 



1218 The Ramayana 

With serpent's pantings fierce and fast 
King Bali from the city passed. 
His glance, as each quick breath he drew, 
Around to find the foe he threw, 
And saw where fierce Sugriva showed 
His form with golden hues that glowed, 
And, as a fire resplendent, stayed 
To meet his foe in arms arrayed. 
When Bali, long-armed chieftain, found 
Sugriva stationed on the ground, 
Impelled by warlike rage he braced 
His warrior garb about his waist, 
And with his mighty arm raised high 
Rushed at Sugriva with a cry. 
But when Sugriva, fierce and bold, 
Saw Bali with his chain of gold, 
His arm he heaved, his hand he closed, 
And face to face his foe opposed. 
To him whose eyes with fury shone, 
In charge impetuous rushing on, 
Skilled in each warlike art and plan, 
Bali with hasty words began: 
"My ponderous hand, to fight addressed 
With fingers clenched and arm compressed 
Shall on thy death doomed brow descend 
And, crashing down, thy life shall end." 
He spoke; and wild with rage and pride, 
The fierce Sugriva thus replied: 
"Thus let my arm begin the strife 
And from thy body crush the life." 

Then Bali, wounded and enraged, 
With furious blows the battle waged. 
Sugriva seemed, with blood-streams dyed, 



Canto XVI. The Fall Of Bali. 1219 

A hill with fountains in his side. 

But with his native force unspent 

A Sal tree from the earth he rent, 

And like the bolt of Indra smote 

On Bali's head and chest and throat. 

Bruised by the blows he could not shield, 

Half vanquished Bali sank and reeled, 

As sinks a vessel with her freight 

Borne down by overwhelming weight. 

Swift as Suparna's 582 swiftest flight 

In awful strength they rushed to fight: 

So might the sun and moon on high 

Encountering battle in the sky. 

Fierce and more fierce, as fought the foes, 

The furious rage of combat rose. 

They warred with feet and arms and knees, 

With nails and stones and boughs and trees, 

And blows descending fast as rain 

Dyed each dark form with crimson stain, 

While like two thunder-clouds they met 

With battle-cry and shout and threat. 

Then Rama saw Sugriva quail, 

Marked his worn strength grow weak and fail. 

Saw how he turned his wistful eye 

To every quarter of the sky. 

His friend's defeat he could not brook, 

Bent on his shaft an eager look, 

Then burned to slay the conquering foe, 

And laid his arrow on the bow. 

As to an orb the bow he drew 

Forth from the string the arrow flew 

Like Fate's tremendous discus hurled 



582 Suparna, the Well-winged, is another name of Garuda the King of Birds. 
See p. 28, Note. 



1220 The Ramayana 

By Yama 583 forth to end the world. 
So loud the din that every bird 
The bow-string's clans with terror heard, 
And wildly fled the affrighted deer 
As though the day of doom were near. 
So, deadly as the serpent's fang, 
Forth from the string the arrow sprang. 
Like the red lightning's flash and flame 
It flew unerring to its aim, 
And, hissing murder through the air, 
Pierced Bali's breast, and quivered there. 
Struck by the shaft that flew so well 
The mighty Vanar reeled and fell, 
As earthward Indra's flag they pull 
When Asvmfs fair moon is full. 584 



Canto XVII. Bali's Speech. 



Like some proud tree before the blast 
Brave Bali to the ground was cast, 
Where prostrate in the dust he rolled 
[344] Clad in the sheen of glistening gold, 



584 The flag-staff erected in honour of the God Indra is lowered when the 
festival is over. Asvini in astronomy is the head of Aries or the first of the 
twenty-eight lunar mansions or asterisms. 



Canto XVII. Bali's Speech. 1221 

As when uptorn the standard lies 

Of the great God who rules the skies. 

When low upon the earth was laid 

The lord whom Vanar tribes obeyed, 

Dark as a moonless sky no more 

His land her joyous aspect wore. 

Though low in dust and mire was rolled 

The form of Bali lofty-souled, 

Still life and valour, might and grace 

Clung to their well-loved dwelling-place. 

That golden chain with rich gems set, 

The choicest gift of Sakra, 585 yet 

Preserved his life nor let decay 

Steal strength and beauty's light away. 

Still from that chain divinely wrought 

His dusky form a glory caught, 

As a dark cloud, when day is done, 

Made splendid by the dying sun. 

As fell the hero, crushed in fight, 

There beamed afar a triple light 

From limbs, from chain, from shaft that drank 

His life-blood as the warrior sank. 

The never-failing shaft, impelled 

By the great bow which Rama held, 

Brought bliss supreme, and lit the way 

To Brahma's worlds which ne'er decay. 586 

Rama and Lakshman nearer drew 
The mighty fallen foe to view, 
Mahendra's son, the brave and bold, 



586 It is believed that every creature killed by Rama obtained in consequence 
immediate beatitude. 

"And blessed the hand that gave so dear a death." 



1222 The Ramayana 

The monarch with his chain of gold, 
With lustrous face and tawny eyes, 
Broad chest, and arms of wondrous size, 
Like Lord Mahendra fierce in fight, 
Or Vishnu's never-conquered might, 
Now fallen like Yayati 587 sent 
From heaven, his store of merit spent, 
Like the bright flame that pales and dies, 
Like the great sun who fires the skies, 
Doomed in the general doom to fall 
When time shall end and ruin all. 

The wounded Bali, when he saw 
Rama and Lakshman nearer draw, 
Keen words to Raghu's son, impressed 
With justice' holy stamp, addressed: 

"What fame, from one thou hast not slain 
In front of battle, canst thou gain, 
Whose secret hand has laid me low 
When madly fighting with my foe? 
From every tongue thy glory rings, 
A scion of a line of kings, 
True to thy vows, of noblest race, 
With every gentle gift and grace: 
Whose tender heart for woe can feel, 
And joy in every creature's weal: 
Whose breast with high ambition swells, 
Knows duty's claim and ne'er rebels. 
They praise thy valour, patience, ruth, 



587 "Yayati was invited to heaven by Indra, and conveyed on the way thither 
by Matali, Indra's charioteer. He afterwards returned to earth where, by his 
virtuous administration he rendered all his subjects exempt from passion and 
decay." GARRETT'S C. D. OF INDIA{FNS. 



Canto XVII. Bali's Speech. 1223 

Thy firmness, self-restraint, and truth: 

Thy hand prepared for sin's control, 

All virtues of a princely soul. 

I thought of all these gifts of thine, 

And glories of an ancient line, 

I set my Tara's tears at naught, 

I met Sugriva and we fought. 

Rama, till this fatal morn 

1 held that thou wouldst surely scorn 
To strike me as I fought my foe 
And thought not of a stranger's blow, 
But now thine evil heart is shown, 

A yawning well with grass o'ergrown. 
Thou wearest virtue's badge, 588 but guile 
And meanest sin thy soul defile. 
I took thee not for treacherous fire, 
A sinner clad in saint's attire; 
Nor deemed thou idly wouldst profess 
The show and garb of righteousness. 
In fenced town, in open land, 
Ne'er hast thou suffered at this hand, 
Nor canst of proud contempt complain: 
Then wherefore is the guiltless slain? 
My harmless life in woods I lead, 
On forest fruits and roots I feed. 
My foeman in the field I sought, 
And ne'er with thee, O Rama, fought. 
Upon thy limbs, O King, I see 
The raiment of a devotee; 
And how can one like thee, who springs 
From a proud line of ancient kings, 
Beneath fair virtue's mask, disgrace 



588 The ascetic's dress which he wore during his exile. 



1224 The Ramayana 

His lineage by a deed so base? 
From Raghu is thy long descent, 
For duteous deeds preeminent: 
Why, sinner clad in saintly dress, 
Roamest thou through the wilderness? 
Truth, valour, justice free from spot, 
The hand that gives and grudges not, 
The might that strikes the sinner down, 
These bring a prince his best renown. 
Here in the woods, O King, we live 
[345] On roots and fruit which branches give. 589 

Thus nature framed our harmless race: 
Thou art a man supreme in place. 
Silver and gold and land provoke 
The fierce attack, the robber's stroke, 
Canst thou desire this wild retreat, 
The berries and the fruit we eat? 
'Tis not for mighty kings to tread 
The flowery path, by pleasure led. 
Theirs be the arm that crushes sin, 
Theirs the soft grace to woo and win: 
The steadfast will that guides the state, 
Wise favour to the good and great; 
And for all time are kings renowned 
Who blend these arts and ne'er confound. 
But thou art weak and swift to ire, 
Unstable, slave of each desire. 
Thou tramplest duty in the dust, 
And in thy bow is all thy trust. 



589 There is much inconsistency in the passages of the poem in which the 
Vanars are spoken of, which seems to point to two widely different legends. 
The Vanars are generally represented as semi-divine beings with preternatural 
powers, living in houses and eating and drinking like men sometimes as here, 
as monkeys pure and simple, living is woods and eating fruit and roots. 



Canto XVII. Bali's Speech. 1225 

Thou carest naught for noble gain, 
And treatest virtue with disdain, 
While every sense its captive draws 
To follow pleasure's changing laws. 
I wronged thee not in word or deed, 
But by thy deadly dart I bleed. 
What wilt thou, mid the virtuous, say 
To purge thy lasting stain away? 
All these, O King, must sink to hell, 
The regicide, the infidel, 
He who in blood and slaughter joys, 
A Brahman or a cow destroys, 
Untimely weds in law's despite 
Scorning an elder brother's right, 590 

Who dares his Teacher's bed ascend, 

The miser, spy, and treacherous friend. 

These impious wretches, one and all, 

Must to the hell of sinners fall. 

My skin the holy may not wear, 

Useless to thee my bones and hair; 

Nor may my slaughtered body be 

The food of devotees like thee. 

These five-toed things a man may slay 

And feed upon the fallen prey; 

The mailed rhinoceros may die, 

And, with the hare his food supply. 

Iguanas he may kill and eat, 



590 For a younger brother to marry before the elder is a gross violation of 
Indian law and duty. The same law applied to daughters with the Hebrews: "It 
must not be so done in our country to give the younger before the first-born." 
GENESISlFNS xix. 26. 



1226 The Ramayana 

With porcupine and tortoise meat. 591 

But all the wise account it sin 

To touch my bones and hair and skin. 

My flesh they may not eat; and I 

A useless prey, O Rama, die. 

In vain my Tara reasoned well, 

On dull deaf ears her counsel fell. 

I scorned her words though sooth and sweet, 

And hither rushed my fate to meet. 

Ah for the land thou rulest! she 

Finds no protection, lord, from thee, 

Neglected like some noble dame 

By a vile husband dead to shame. 

Mean-hearted coward, false and vile, 

Whose cruel soul delights in guile, 

Could Dasaratha, noblest king, 

Beget so mean and base a thing? 

Alas ! an elephant, in form 

Of Rama, in a maddening storm 

Of passion casting to the ground 

The girth of law 592 that clipped him round, 

Too wildly passionate to feel 

The prick of duty's guiding steel, 593 

Has charged me unawares, and dead 

I fall beneath his murderous tread. 

How, stained with this my base defeat, 



591 "The hedgehog and porcupine, the lizard, the rhinoceros, the tortoise, 
and the rabbit or hare, wise legislators declare lawful food among five-toed 
animals." MANU{FNS, v. 18. 

592 

"He can not buckle his distempered cause 
Within the belt of rule." 

MACBETH{FNS. 

593 The Ankus or iron hook with which an elephant is driven and guided. 



Canto XVII. Bali's Speech. 1227 

How wilt thou dare, where good men meet, 

To speak, when every tongue will blame 

With keen reproach this deed of shame? 

Such hero strength and valour, shown 

Upon the innocent alone, 

Thou hast not proved in manly strife 

On him who robbed thee of thy wife. 

Hadst thou but fought in open field 

And met me boldly unconcealed, 

This day had been thy fate to fall, 

Slain by this hand, to Yama's hall. 

In vain I strove, and struck by thee 

Fell by a hand I could not see. 

Thus bites a snake, for sins of yore, 

A sleeping man who wakes no more. 

Sugriva's foeman thou hast killed, 

And thus his heart's desire fulfilled; 

But, Rama, hadst thou sought me first, 

And told the hope thy soul has nursed, 

That very day had I restored 

The Maithil lady to her lord; 

And, binding Ravan with a chain, 

Had laid him at thy feet unslain. [346] 

Yea, were she sunk in deepest hell, 

Or whelmed beneath the ocean's swell, 

I would have followed on her track 

And brought the rescued lady back, 

As Hayagriva 594 once set free 



594 Hayagriva, Horse-necked, is a form of Vishnu. 



1228 The Ramayana 

From hell the white Asvatari. 595 

That when my spirit wings its flight 

Sugriva reign, is just and right. 

But most unjust, O King, that I, 

Slain by thy treacherous hand, should lie. 

Be still, my heart: this earthly state 

Is darkly ruled by sovereign Fate. 

The realm is lost and won: defy 

Thy questioners with apt reply." 596 



Canto XVIII. Rama's Reply. 

He ceased: and Rama's heart was stirred 
At every keen reproach he heard. 
There Bali lay, a dim dark sun, 
His course of light and glory run: 
Or like the bed of Ocean dried 
Of his broad floods from side to side, 
Or helpless, as the dying fire, 
Hushed his last words of righteous ire. 
Then Rama, with his spirit moved, 
The Vanar king in turn reproved: 



595 "Asvatara is the name of a chief of the Nagas or serpents which inhabit the 
regions under the earth; it is also the name of a Gandharva. Asvatari ought to 
be the wife of one of the two, but I am not sure that this conjecture is right. The 
commentator does not say who this Asvatari is, or what tradition or myth is 
alluded to. Vimalabodha reads Asvatari in the nominative case, and explains, 
Asvatari is the sun, and as the sun with his rays brings back the moon which 
has been sunk in the ocean and the infernal regions, so will I bring back Sita." 
GORRESIO{FNS. 

596 That is, "Consider what answer you can give to your accusers when they 
charge you with injustice in killing me." 



Canto XVIII. Rama's Reply. 1229 

"Why dost thou, Bali, thus revile, 
And castest not a glance the while 
On claims of duty, love, and gain, 
And customs o'er the world that reign? 
Why dost thou blame me, rash and blind, 
Fickle as all thy Vanar kind, 
Slighting each rule of ancient days 
Which all the good and prudent praise? 
This land, each hill and woody chase, 
Belongs to old Ikshvaku's race: 
With bird and beast and man, the whole 
Is ours to cherish and control. 
Now Bharat, prompt at duty's call, 
Wise, just, and true, is lord of all. 
Each claim of law, love, gain he knows, 
And wrath and favour duly shows. 
A king from truth who never bends, 
And grace with vigour wisely blends; 
With valour worthy of his race, 
He knows the claims of time and place. 
Now we and other kings of might, 
By his ensample taught aright, 
The lands of every region tread 
That justice may increase and spread. 
While royal Bharat, wise and just, 
Rules the broad earth, his glorious trust, 
Who shall attempt, while he is lord, 
A deed by Justice held abhorred? 
We now, as Bharat has decreed, 
Let justice guide our every deed, 
And toil each sinner to repress 
Who scorns the way of righteousness. 
Thou from that path hast turned aside, 
And virtue's holy law defied, 



1230 The Ramayana 

Left the fair path which kings should tread, 

And followed pleasure's voice instead. 

The man who cleaves to duty's law 

Regards these three with filial awe — 

The sire, the elder brother, third 

Him from whose lips his lore he heard. 

Thus too, for duty's sake, the wise 

Regard with fond paternal eyes 

The well-loved younger brother, one 

Their lore has ripened, and a son. 

Fine are the laws which guide the good, 

Abstruse, and hardly understood; 

Only the soul, enthroned within 

The breast of each, knows right from sin. 

But thou art wild and weak of soul, 

And spurnest, like thy race, control; 

The true and right thou canst not find, 

The blind consulting with the blind. 

Incline thine ear and I will teach 

The cause that prompts my present speech. 

This tempest of thy soul assuage, 

Nor blame me in thine idle rage. 

On this great sin thy thoughts bestow, 

The sin for which I lay thee low. 

Thou, Bali, in thy brother's life 

Hast robbed him of his wedded wife, 

And keepest, scorning ancient right, 

His Ruma for thine own delight. 

Thy son's own wife should scarcely be 

More sacred in thine eyes than she. 

All duty thou hast scorned, and hence 

Comes punishment for dire offence. 

For those who blindly do amiss 

There is, I ween, no way but this: 



Canto XVIII. Rama's Reply. 123 1 

To check the rash who dare to stray 

From customs which the good obey, 

I may not, sprung of Kshatriya line, [347] 

Forgive this heinous sin of thine: 

The laws for those who sin like thee 

The penalty of death decree. 

Now Bharat rules with sovereign sway, 

And we his royal word obey. 

There was no hope of pardon, none, 

For the vile deed that thou hast done, 

That wisest monarch dooms to die 

The wretch whose crimes the law defy; 

And we, chastising those who err, 

His righteous doom administer. 

My soul accounts Sugriva dear 

E'en as my brother Lakshman here. 

He brings me blessing, and I swore 

His wife and kingdom to restore: 

A bond in solemn honour bound 

When Vanar chieftains stood around. 

And can a king like me forsake 

His friend, and plighted promise break? 

Reflect, O Vanar, on the cause, 

The sanction of eternal laws, 

And, justly smitten down, confess 

Thou diest for thy wickedness. 

By honour was I bound to lend 

Assistance to a faithful friend; 

And thou hast met a righteous fate 

Thy former sins to expiate. 

And thus wilt thou some merit win 

And make atonement for thy sin. 

For hear me, Vanar King, rehearse 



1232 The Ramayana 

What Manu 597 spake in ancient verse, — 
This holy law, which all accept 
Who honour duty, have I kept: 
"Pure grow the sinners kings chastise, 
And, like the virtuous, gain the skies; 
By pain or full atonement freed, 
They reap the fruit of righteous deed, 
While kings who punish not incur 
The penalties of those who err." 
Mandhata 598 once, a noble king, 
Light of the line from which I spring, 
Punished with death a devotee 
When he had stooped to sin like thee; 
And many a king in ancient time 
Has punished frantic sinners' crime, 
And, when their impious blood was spilt, 
Has washed away the stain of guilt. 
Cease, Bali, cease: no more complain: 
Reproaches and laments are vain, 
For thou art justly punished: we 
Obey our king and are not free. 
Once more, O Bali, lend thine ear 
Another weightiest plea to hear. 
For this, when heard and pondered well, 
Will all complaint and rage dispel. 
My soul will ne'er this deed repent, 
Nor was my shaft in anger sent. 
We take the silvan tribes beset 
With snare and trap and gin and net, 



597 Manu, Book VIII. 318. "But men who have committed offences and have 
received from kings the punishment due to them, go pure to heaven and become 
as clear as those who have done well." 

598 Mandhata was one of the earlier descendants of Ikshvaku. His name is 
mentioned in Rama's genealogy, p. 81. 



Canto XVIII. Rama's Reply. 1233 

And many a heedless deer we smite 
From thickest shade, concealed from sight. 
Wild for the slaughter of the game, 
At stately stags our shafts we aim. 
We strike them bounding scared away, 
We strike them as they stand at bay, 
When careless in the shade they lie, 
Or scan the plain with watchful eye. 
They turn away their heads; we aim, 
And none the eager hunter blame. 
Each royal saint, well trained in law 
Of duty, loves his bow to draw 
And strike the quarry, e'en as thou 
Hast fallen by mine arrow now, 
Fighting with him or unaware, — 
A Vanar thou. — I little care. 599 
But yet, O best of Vanars, know 
That kings who rule the earth bestow 
Fruit of pure life and virtuous deed, 
And lofty duty's hard-won meed. 
Harm not thy lord the king: abstain 
From act and word that cause him pain; 
For kings are children of the skies 
Who walk this earth in men's disguise. 
But thou, in duty's claims untaught, 
Thy breast with blinding passion fraught, 
Assailest me who still have clung 
To duty, with thy bitter tongue." 



599 I cannot understand how Valmfki could put such an excuse as this into 
Rama's mouth. Rama with all solemn ceremony, has made a league of alliance 
with Bali's younger brother whom he regards as a dear friend and almost as 
an equal, and now he winds up his reasons for killing Bali by coolly saying: 
"Besides you are only a monkey, you know, after all, and as such I have every 
right to kill you how, when, and where I like." 



1234 The Ramayana 

He ceased: and Bali sore distressed 
The sovereign claims of law confessed, 
And freed, o'erwhelmed with woe and shame, 
The lord of Raghu's race from blame. 
Then, reverent palm to palm applied, 
To Rama thus the Vanar cried: 
"True, best of men, is every word 
That from thy lips these ears have heard, 
It ill beseems a wretch like me 
To bandy empty words with thee. 
Forgive the angry taunts that broke 
From my wild bosom as I spoke. 
[348] And lay not to my charge, O King, 

My mad reproaches' idle sting. 
Thou, in the truth by trial trained, 
Best knowledge of the right hast gained: 
And layest, just and pure within, 
The meetest penalty on sin. 
Through every bond of law I burst, 
The boldest sinner and the worst. 
O let thy right-instructing speech 
Console my heart and wisely teach." 

Like some sad elephant who stands 
Fast sinking in the treacherous sands, 
Thus Bali raised despairing eyes; 
Then spake again with sobs and sighs: 

"Not for myself, O King, I grieve, 
For Tara or the friends I leave, 
As for sweet Angad, my dear son, 
My noble, only little one. 
For, nursed in luxury and bliss, 
His father he will mourn and miss, 



Canto XVIII. Rama's Reply. 1235 

And like a stream whose fount is dry 
Will waste away and sink and die, — 
My own dear child, my only boy, 
His mother Tara's hope and joy. 
Spare him, O son of Raghu, spare 
The child entrusted to thy care. 
My Angad and Sugriva treat 
E'en as thy heart considers meet, 
For thou, O chief of men, art strong 
To guard the right and punish wrong. 
O, if thou wilt thine ear incline 
To hear these dying words of mine, 
He and Sugriva will to thee 
As Bharat and as Lakshman be. 
Let not my Tara, left forlorn, 
Weep for Sugriva's wrathful scorn; 
Nor let him, for her lord's offence, 
Condemn her faithful innocence. 
And well and wisely may he reign 
If thy dear grace his power sustain: 
If, following thee his friend and guide, 
He turn not from thy hest aside: 
Thus may he reign with glory, nay 
Thus to the skies will win his way. 
Though stayed by Tara's fond recall, 
By thy dear hand I longed to fall. 
Against my brother rushed and fought, 
And gained the death I long have sought." 

Then Rama thus the prince consoled 
From whose clear eyes the mists were rolled: 
"Grieve not for those thou leavest thus, 
Nor tremble for thyself or us, 
For we will deal with thine and thee 



1236 The Ramayana 

As duty and the laws decree. 

He who exacts and he who pays, 

Is justly slain or justly slays, 

Shall in the life to come have bliss; 

For each has done his task in this. 

Thou, wandering from the right, art made 

Pure by the forfeit thou hast paid. 

Thy weight of sins is cast aside, 

And duty's claim is satisfied. 

Then grieve no more, O Prince, but clear 

Thy bosom from all doubt and fear, 

For fate, inexorably stern, 

Thou hast no power to move or turn. 

Thy princely Angad still will share 

My tender love, Sugriva's care; 

And to thy offspring shall be shown 

Affection that shall match thine own." 



Canto XIX. Tara's Grief. 



No answer gave the Vanar king 
To Rama's prudent counselling. 
Battered and bruised by tree and stone, 
By Rama's arrow overthrown, 
Fainting upon the ground he lay, 
Gasping his troubled life away. 



Canto XIX. Tara's Grief. 1237 

But Tara in the Vanar's hall 
Heard tidings of her husband's fall; 
Heard that a shaft from Rama's bow 
Had laid the royal Bali low. 
Her darling Angad by her side, 
Distracted from her home she hied. 
Then nigh the place of battle drew 
The Vanars, Angad's retinue. 
They saw the bow-armed Rama: dread 
Fell on them, and they turned and fled. 
Like helpless deer, their leaders slain, 
So wildly fled the startled train. 
But Tara saw, and nearer pressed, 
And thus the flying band addressed: 
"O Vanars, ye who ever stand 
About our king, a trusty band, 
Where is the lion master? why 
Forsake ye thus your lord and fly? 
Say, lies he dead upon the plain, 
A brother by a brother slain, 
Or pierced by shafts from Rama's bow 
That rain from far upon the foe?" 

Thus Tara questioned, and was still: 
Then, wearers of each shape at will, 
The Vanars thus with one accord 
Answered the Lady of their lord: 
"Turn, Tara turn, and half undone 
Save Angad thy beloved son. 
There Rama stands in death's disguise, 
And conquered Bali faints and dies. 
He by whose strong arm, thick and fast, 
Uprooted trees and rocks were cast, 
Lies smitten by a shaft that came 



1238 The Ramayana 

Resistless as the lightning flame. 
When he, whose splendour once could vie 
With Indra's, regent of the sky, 
Fell by that deadly arrow, all 
The Vanars fled who marked his fall. 
Let all our chiefs their succours bring, 
[349] And Angad be anointed king; 

For all who come of Vanar race 
Will serve him set in Bali's place. 
Or else our conquering foes to-day 
Within our wall will force their way, 
Polluting with their hostile feet 
The chambers of thy loved retreat. 
Great fear is on us, all and one. 
Those who have wives and who have none, 
They lust for power, are fierce and bold, 
Or hate us for the strife of old." 



She heard their speech as, sore afraid, 
Arrested in their flight, they stayed, 
And gave her answer as became 
The spirit of so true a dame: 
"Nay, what have I to do with pelf, 
With son, with kingdom, or with self, 
When he, my noble lord, who leads 
The Vanars like a lion, bleeds? 
His high-souled victor will I meet, 
And throw me prostrate at his feet." 



Canto XIX. Tara's Grief. 1239 

She hastened forth, her bosom rent 
With anguish, weeping as she went, 
And striking, mastered by her woes, 
Her head and breast with frantic blows. 
She hurried to the field and found 
Her husband prostrate on the ground, 
Who quelled the hostile Vanars' might, 
Whose bank was never turned in flight: 
Whose arm a massy rock could throw 
As Indra hurls his bolts below: 
Fierce as the rushing tempest, loud 
As thunder from a labouring cloud: 
Whene'er he roared his voice of fear 
Struck terror on the boldest ear: 
Now slain, as, hungry for the prey, 
A tiger might a lion slay: 
Or when, his serpent foe to seek, 
Suparna 600 with his furious beak 
Tears up a sacred hillock, long 
The reverence of a village throng, 
Its altar with their offerings spread, 
And the gay flag that waved o'erhead. 
She looked and saw the victor stand 
Resting upon his bow his hand: 
And fierce Sugriva she descried, 
And Lakshman by his brother's side. 
She passed them by, nor stayed to view, 
Swift to her husband's side she flew; 
Then as she looked, her strength gave way, 
And in the dust she fell and lay. 
Then, as if startled ere the close 
Of slumber, from the earth she rose. 



' A name of Garuda the king of birds, the great enemy of the Serpents. 



1240 The Ramayana 

Upon her dying husband, round 

Whose soul the coils of Death were wound, 

Her eyes in agony she bent 

And called him with a shrill lament. 

Sugriva, when he heard her cries, 

And saw the queen with weeping eyes, 

And youthful Angad standing there, 

His load of grief could hardly bear. 



Canto XX. Tara's Lament. 



Again she bent her to the ground, 
Her arms about her husband wound. 
Sobbed on his breast, and sick and faint 
With anguish poured her wild complaint: 
"Brave in the charge of battle, boast 
And glory of the Vanar host, 
Why on the cold earth wilt thou lie 
And give no answer when I cry? 
Up, warrior, from thy lowly bed! 
A meeter couch for thee is spread. 
It ill beseems a glorious king 
On the bare ground his limbs to fling. 
Ah, surely must thy love be strong 
For her whom thou hast governed long, 
If thou, my hero, canst recline 
On her cold breast forsaking mine. 
Or, famed for justice through the land, 
Thou on the road to heaven hast planned 
Some city fairer far than this 
To be thy new metropolis. 



Canto XX. Tara's Lament. 1241 

Are all our pleasures ended now, 

With those delicious hours which thou 

And I, dear lord, together spent 

In woods that breathed the honey's scent? 

Whelmed in my sorrow's boundless sea, 

There is no joy, no hope, for me, 

When my beloved lord, who led 

The Vanars to the fight, is dead, 

My widowed heart is stern and cold. 

Or, at the sight mine eyes behold, 

O'ermastered would it end this ache 

And in a thousand fragments break. 

Ah noble Vanar, doomed to pay 

The penalty of all today — 

Sugriva from his home expelled, 

And Ruma 601 from his arms withheld. 

Our Vanar race and thee to save, 

Wise counsel for thy weal I gave; 

But thou, by wildest folly stirred, 

Wouldst give no credence to my word, 

And now wilt woo the nymphs above, 

And shake their souls with pangs of love. 

Ah, never could it be that thou 

Beneath Sugriva's power shouldst bow, 

Thy conqueror is none but Fate 

Whose mandates all who breathe await. 

And does no thrill of anguish run 

Through the stern breast of Raghu's son, 

Whose base hand dealt a coward's blow, 

And smote thee fighting with thy foe? 

Reft of my lord my days, alas! [350] 

In bitter bitter woe will pass: 



601 Sugriva's wife. 



1242 The Ramayana 

And I, long blest with every good, 
Must bear my dreary widowhood. 
And when his uncle's brow is stern, 
When his fierce eyes with fury burn, 
Ah, what will be my Angad's fate, 
So fair and young and delicate? 
Come, darling, for the last sad sight, 
Of thy dear sire who loved the right; 
For soon thine eyes will long in vain 
A look at that loved face to gain. 
And, hero, as thy child draws near, 
With tender words his spirit cheer; 
Thy dying wishes gently speak, 
And kiss him on the brows and cheek. 
High fame, I ween, has Rama won 
By this great deed his hand has done, 
His debt to brave Sugriva paid 
And kept the promise that he made. 
Be happy, King Sugriva, lord 
Of Rama to thine arms restored: 
Enjoy uninterrupted reign, 
For he, thy foe, at length is slain. 
Dost thou not hear me speak, and why 
Hast thou no word of soft reply? 
Will thou not lift thine eyes and see 
These dames who look to none but thee?" 



From their sad eyes, as Tara spoke, 
The floods of bitter sorrow broke: 
Then, pressing close to Angad's side, 
Each lifted up her voice and cried: 



Canto XXI. Hanuman's Speech. 1243 

"How couldst thou leave thine Angad thus, 
And go, for ever go, from us — 
Thy child so dear in brave attire, 
Graced with the virtues of his sire? 
If e'er in want of thought, O chief, 
One deed of mine have caused thee grief, 
Forgive my folly, I entreat, 
And with my head I touch thy feet." 



Again the hapless Tara wept 
As to her husband's side she crept, 
And wild with sorrow and dismay 
Sat on the ground where Bali lay. 



Canto XXI. Hanuman's Speech. 



There, like a fallen star, the dame 
Fell by her lord's half lifeless frame; 
And Hanuman drew softly near, 
And strove her grieving heart to cheer: 



1244 The Ramayana 

"By changeless law our bliss and woe 

From ancient worth and folly flow. 

What fruits soe'er we cull, the seeds 

Were scattered by our former deeds. 602 

Why mourn another's mournful fate, 

And weep, thyself unfortunate? 

Be calm, O thou whose heart is wise, 

For none deserves another's sighs. 

Look up, with idle sorrow strive: 

Thy child, his heir, is yet alive. 

Let needful rites be duly done, 

Nor in thy woe forget thy son. 

Regard the law which all obey: 

They spring to life, they pass away. 

Begin the task that bids thee rise, 

And stay these tears, for thou art wise. 

Our lord the king is doomed to die, 

On whom ten million hearts rely. 

Kind, liberal, patient, true, and just 

Was he in whom they place their trust, 

And now he seeks the land of those 

Who for the right subdue their foes. 

Each Vanar lord with all his train, 

Each ranger of this wild domain, 

And Angad here, thy darling, see 

A governor and friend in thee. 

These twain 603 whose hearts with sorrow ache 

The funeral rites shall undertake, 

And Angad by his mother's care 

Be king, his father's rightful heir. 

Now let him pay, as laws require, 



us what we are.' 

603 



Sugriva and Angad. 



Canto XXII. Bali Dead. 1245 

His sacred duty to his sire, 

Nor one solemnity omit 

Of all that mighty kings befit. 

And when thy fond eye sees thine own 

Dear Angad on his father's throne, 

Then, lightened of its load of pain, 

Thy spirit will have rest again." 

She heard his speech, she heaved her head, 
Looked upon Hanuman and said: 

"Sweeter my slain lord's limbs to touch, 
Than Angad or a hundred such. 
No rule or right, a widowed dame, 
O'er Angad or the realm I claim. 
Sugriva is the uncle, he 
In every act supreme must be. 
I pray thee, chief, this plan resign, 
Nor claim from me what ne'er is mine. 
The father with his tender care 
Guards the dear child the mother bare, 
Where'er I be, no sweeter task, 
No happier joy I hope or ask 
Than thus to sit with loving eyes 
And watch the bed where Bali lies. 



Canto XXII. Bali Dead. 



There breathing still with slow faint sighs 

Lay Bali on the ground: his eyes, [351] 



1246 The Ramayana 

Damp with the tears of death, he raised, 
On conquering Sugriva gazed, 
And then in clearest speech expressed 
The tender feelings of his breast: 
"Not to my charge, Sugriva, lay 
Thine injuries avenged to-day; 
But rather blame resistless Fate 
That urged me on infuriate. 
Fate ne'er agreed our lives to bless 
With simultaneous happiness: 
To dwell like brothers side by side 
In tender love was still denied. 
The Vanars' realm is thine to-day: 
Begin, O King, thy rightful sway; 604 
For I must go at Yama's call 
To sojourn in his gloomy hall; 
Must part and leave this very hour 
My life, my realm, my kingly power, 
And go instead of these to gain 
Bright glory free from spot and stain. 
Now at thy hands one boon I seek 
With the last words my lips shall speak, 
And, though it be no easy thing, 
Perform the task I give thee, King. 
This son of mine, no foolish boy, 
Worthy of bliss and nursed in joy, — 
See, prostrate on the ground he lies, 
The hot tears welling from his eyes — 
The child I love so well, more sweet 
Than life itself, for woe unmeet, — 
To him be kindly favour shown: 
O guard and keep him as thine own. 



604 Angad himself, being too young to govern, would be Yuvaraja or heir-ap- 
parent. 



Canto XXII. Bali Dead. 1247 

Retain him ever by thy side, 

His father, helper, friend, and guide. 

From fear and woe his young life save, 

And give him all his father gave. 

Then Tara's son in time shall be 

Brave, resolute, and famed like thee, 

And march before thee to the fight 

Where stricken fiends shall own his might. 

While yet a tender stripling, fame 

Shall bruit abroad his warrior name, 

And brightly shall his glory shine 

For exploits worthy of his line. 

Child of Sushen, 605 my Tara well 

Obscurest lore can read and tell; 

And, trained in wondrous art, divines 

Each mystery of boding signs. 

Her solemn warning ne'er despise, 

Do boldly what her lips advise; 

For things to come her eye can see, 

And with her words events agree. 

And for the son of Raghu's sake 

The toil and danger undertake: 

For breach of faith were grievous wrong, 

Nor wouldst thou be unpunished long. 

Now, brother, take this chain of gold, 

Gift of celestial hands of old, 

Or when I die its charm will flee, 

And all its might be lost with me." 

The loving speech Sugriva heard, 
And all his heart with woe was stirred. 
Remorse and gentle pity stole 
Each thought of triumph from his soul: 



1248 The Ramayana 

Thus fades the light when Rahu 606 mars 

The glory of the Lord of Stars. 607 

All angry thoughts were stayed and stilled 

And kindly love his bosom filled. 

His brother's word the chief obeyed 

And took the chain as Bali prayed. 

On little Angad standing nigh 

The dying hero fixed his eye, 

And, ready from this world to part, 

Spoke the fond utterance of his heart: 



"Let time and place thy thoughts employ: 
In woe be strong, be meek in joy. 
Accept both pain and pleasure, still 
Obedient to Sugriva's will. 
Thou hast, my darling, from the first 
With tender care been softly nursed; 
But harder days, if thou wouldst win 
Sugriva's love, must now begin. 
To those who hate him ne'er incline, 
Nor count his foe a friend of thine. 
In all thy thoughts his welfare seek, 
Obedient, lowly, faithful, meek. 
Let no rash suit his bosom pain, 
Nor yet from due requests abstain. 608 
Each is a grievous fault, between 
The two is found the happy mean." 



606 A demon with the tail of a dragon, that causes eclipses by endeavouring to 
swallow the sun and moon. 

607 The Lord of Stars is the Moon. 

608 Or the passage may be interpreted: "Be neither too obsequious or affection- 
ate, nor wanting in due respect or love." 



Canto XXII. Bali Dead. 1249 

Then Bali ceased: his eyeballs rolled 
In stress of anguish uncontrolled 
His massive teeth were bared to view, 
And from the frame the spirit flew. 
Their lord and leader dead, the crowd 
Of noblest Vanars shrieked aloud: 
"Since thou, O King, hast sought the skies 
All desolate Kishkindha lies. 
Her woods, where Vanars loved to rove, 
Are empty now, and hill and grove. 
From every eye the light is fled, 
Since thou, our mighty lord, art dead. 
Thine was the unwearied arm that bore 
The brunt of deadly fight of yore 
With Golabh the Gandharva, when, 

Lasting through five long years and ten, [352] 

The dreadful conflict knew no stay 
In gloom of night, in glare of day; 
And when the fifteenth year had past 
Thy dire opponent fell at last. 
If such a foeman fell beneath 
Our hero's arm and awful teeth 
Who freed us from our terror, how 
Is conquering Bali fallen now?" 

Then when they saw their leader slain 
Great anguish seized the Vanar train, 
Weeping their mighty chief, as when 
In pastures near a lion's den 
The cows by sudden fear are stirred, 
Slain the bold bull who led the herd. 
And hapless Tara sank below 
The whelming waters of her woe, 
Looked upon Bali's face and fell 



1250 The Ramayana 

Beside him whom she loved go well, 
Like a young creeper clinging round 
A tall tree prostrate on the ground. 



Canto XXIII. Tara's Lament. 



She kissed her lifeless husband's face, 
She clasped him in a close embrace, 
Laid her soft lips upon his head; 
Then words like these the mourner said: 

"No words of mine wouldst thou regard, 
And now thy bed is cold and hard. 
Upon the rude rough ground o'erthrown, 
Beneath thee naught but sand and stone. 
To thee the earth is dearer far 
Than I and my caresses are, 
If thou upon her breast wilt lie, 
And to my words make no reply. 
Ah my beloved, good and brave, 
Bold to attack and strong to save, 
Fate is Sugriva's thrall, and we 
In him our lord and master see. 
Lo, by thy bed, a mournful band, 
Thy Vanar chiefs lamenting stand. 
O hear thy nobles' groans and cries, 
O mark thy Angad's weeping eyes, 
O list to my entreaties, break 
The chains of slumber and awake. 
Ah me, my lord, this lowly bed 
Where rest thy limbs and fallen head, 



Canto XXIII. Tara's Lament. 125 1 

Is the cold couch where smitten lay 

Thy foemen in the bloody fray. 

O noble heart from blemish free, 

Lover of war, beloved by me. 

Why hast thou fled away and left 

Thy Tara of all hope bereft? 

Unwise the father who allows 

His child to be a warrior's spouse, 

For, hero, see thy consort's fate, 

A widow now most desolate, 

For ever broken is my pride, 

My hope of lasting bliss has died, 

And sinking in the lowest deep 

Of sorrow's sea I pine and weep. 

Ah, surely not of earthly mould, 

This stony heart is stern and cold, 

Or, in a hundred pieces rent, 

It had not lingered to lament. 

Dead, dead! my husband, friend, and lord 

In whom my loving hopes were stored, 

First in the field, his foemen's dread, 

My own victorious Bali, dead! 

A woman when her lord has died, 

Though children flourish by her side, 

Though stores of gold her coffers fill, 

Is called a lonely widow still. 

Alas, thy bleeding gashes make 

Around thy limbs a purple lake: 

Thus slumbering was thy wont to lie 

On cushions bright with crimson dye. 

Dark streams of welling blood besmear 

Thy limbs where dust and mire adhere, 

Nor have I strength, weighed down by woe, 

Mine arms about thy form to throw. 



1252 The Ramayana 

The issue of this day has brought 
Sugriva all his wishes sought, 
For Rama shot one shaft and he 
Is freed from fear and jeopardy. 
Alas, alas, I may not rest 
My head upon thy wounded breast, 
Obstructed by the massive dart 
Deep buried in thy bleeding heart." 

Then Nila from his bosom drew 
The fatal shaft that pierced him through, 
Like some tremendous serpent deep 
In caverns of a hill asleep. 
As from the hero's wound it came, 
Shot from the shaft a gleam of flame, 
Like the last flashes of the sun 
Descending when his course is run. 
From the wide rent in crimson flood 
Rushed the full stream of Bali's blood, 
Like torrents down a mountain's side 
With golden ore and copper dyed. 
Then Tara brushed with tender care 
The dust of battle from his hair, 
While her sad eyes poured down their rain 
Upon her lord untimely slain. 
Once more she looked upon the dead; 
Then to her bright-eyed child she said: 
"Turn hither, turn thy weeping eyes 
Where low in death thy father lies. 
By sinful deed and bitter hate 
Our lord has met his mournful fate. 
Bright as the sun at early morn 
To Yama's halls is Bali borne. 
Then go, my child, salute the king, 



Canto XXIII. Tara's Lament. 1253 

From whom our bliss and honour spring." 

Obedient to his mother's hest 
His father's feet he gently pressed [353] 

With twining arms and lingering hands: 
"Father," he cried, "here Angad stands." 

Then Tara: "Art thou stern and mute, 
Regardless of thy child's salute? 
Hast thou no blessing for thy son, 
No word for little Angad, none? 
O, hero, at thy lifeless feet 
Here with my boy I take my seat, 
As some sad mother of the herd, 
By the fierce lion undeterred, 
Lies moaning by the grassy dell 
Wherein her lord and leader fell. 
How, having wrought that awful rite, 
The sacrifice of deadly fight, 
Wherein the shaft by Rama sped 
Supplied the place of water shed, 
How hast thou bathed thee at the end 
Without thy wife her aid to lend? 609 
Why do mine eyes no more behold 
Thy bright beloved chain of gold, 
Which, pleased with thee, the Immortals' King 
About thy neck vouchsafed to fling? 
Still lingering on thy lifeless face 
I see the pride of royal race: 
Thus when the sun has set, his glow 
Still rests upon the Lord of Snow. 



609 Sacrifices and all religious rites begin and end with ablution, and the wife 
of the officiating Brahman takes an important part in the performance of the 
holy ceremonies. 



1254 The Ramayana 

Alas my hero ! undeterred 

Thou wouldst not listen to my word. 

With tears and prayers I sued in vain: 

Thou wouldst not listen, and art slain. 

Gone is my bliss, my glory: I 

And Angad now with thee will die." 



Canto XXIV. Sugriva's Lament. 

But when Sugriva saw her weep 
O'erwhelmed in sorrow's rushing deep, 
Swift through his bosom pierced the sting 
Of anguish for the fallen king. 
At the sad sight his eyes beheld 
A flood of bitter tears outwelled, 
And, with his bosom racked and rent, 
To Rama with his train he went. 
He came with faltering steps and slow 
Where Rama held his mighty bow 
And arrow like a venomed snake, 
And to the son of Raghu spake: 
"Well hast thou kept, O King, thy vow: 
The promised fruit is gathered now. 
But life is marred, my soul to-day 
Turns sickening from all joy away. 
For, while this queen laments and sighs 
Amid a mourning people's cries, 
And Angad weeps his father slain, 
How can my heart delight to reign? 
For outrage, fury, senseless pride, 
My brother, doomed of yore, has died. 



Canto XXIV. Sugriva's Lament. 1255 

Yet, Raghu's son, in bitter woe 

I mourn his fated overthrow. 

Ah, better far in pain and ill 

To dwell on Rishyamuka still 

Than gain the heaven of Gods and all 

Its pleasures by my brother's fall. 

Did not he cry, — great-hearted foe, — 

"Go, for I will not slay thee, Go"? 

With his brave soul those words agree: 

My speech, my deeds, are worthy me. 

How can a brother counterweigh 

His grievous loss with joys of sway, 

And see with dull unpitying eye 

So brave and good a brother die? 

His lofty soul was nobly blind: 

My death alas, he ne'er designed; 

But I, urged blindly on by hate, 

Sought with his life my rage to sate. 

He smote me with a splintered tree: 

I groaned aloud and turned to flee, 

From stern reproaches he forbore, 

And gently bade me sin no more. 

Serene and dutiful and good 

He kept the laws of brotherhood: 

I, fierce and greedy, vengeful, base, 

Showed all the vices of our race. 

Ah me, dear friend, my brother's fate 

Lays on my soul a crushing weight: 

A sin no heart should e'er conceive, 

But at the thought each soul should grieve: 

Sin such as Indra's when his blow 

Laid heavenly Visvarupa 610 low. 



610 Visvarupa, a son of Twashtri or Visvakarma the heavenly architect, was a 
three-headed monster slain by Indra. 



[354] 



1256 The Ramayana 

Yet earth, the waters of the seas, 
The race of women and the trees 
Were fain upon themselves to take 
The weight of sin for Indra's sake. 
But who a Vanar's soul will free, 
Or ease the load that crushes me? 
Wretch that I am, I may not claim 
The reverence due to royal name. 
How shall I reign supreme, or dare 
Affect the power I should not share? 
Ah me, I sorrow for my sin, 
The ruin of my race and kin, 
Polluted by a hideous crime 
World-hated till the end of time. 
Alas, the floods of sorrow roll 
With whelming force upon my soul: 
So gathers the descending rain 
In the deep hollow of the plain." 



Canto XXV. Rama's Speech. 



Then Raghu's son, whose feeling breast 
Shared the great woe that moved the rest, 
Strove with wise charm their grief to ease 
And gently spoke in words like these: 



Canto XXV. Rama's Speech. 1257 

"You ne'er can raise the dead to bliss 
By agony of grief like this. 
Cease your lament, nor leave undone 
The funeral task you may not shun. 
As nature orders o'er the dead. 
Your tributary tears are shed, 
But Fate, directing each event, 
Is still the lord preeminent. 
Yes, all obey the changeless laws 
Of Fate the universal cause. 
By Fate, the lives of all proceed, 
That governs every word and deed, 
None acts, none sees his hest obeyed, 
But each and all by Fate are swayed. 
The world its ordered course maintains, 
And o'er that course Fate ever reigns. 
Fate ne'er exceeds the rule of Fate: 
Is ne'er too swift, is ne'er too late, 
And making nature its ally 
Forgets no life, nor passes by. 
No kith and kin, no power and force 
Can check or stay its settled course, 
No friend or client, grace or charm, 
That victor of the world disarm. 
So all who see with prudent eyes 
The hand of Fate must recognize, 
For virtue rules, or love, or gain, 
As Fate's unchanged decrees ordain. 
Bali has died and won the meed 
That waits in heaven on noble deed, 
Throned in the seats the brave may reach 
By liberal hand and gentle speech, 
True to a warrior's duty, bold 
In fight, the hero lofty-souled 



1258 The Ramayana 

Deigned not to guard his life: he died, 

And now in heaven is glorified. 

Then cease these tears and wild despair: 

Turn to the task that claims your care, 

For Bali's is the glorious fate 

Which warriors count most fortunate." 

When Rama's speech had found a close, 
Brave Lakshman, terror of his foes, 
With wise and soothing words addressed 
Sugriva still with woe oppressed: 
"Arise Sugriva," thus he said, 
"Perform the service of the dead. 
Prepare with Tara and her son 
That Bali's rites be duly done. 
A store of funeral wood provide 
Which wind and sun and time have dried 
And richest sandal fit to grace 
The pyre of one of royal race. 
With words of comfort soft and kind 
Console poor Angad's troubled mind, 
Nor let thy heart be thus cast down, 
For thine is now the Vanars' town. 
Let Angad's care a wreath supply, 
And raiment rich with varied dye, 
And oil and perfumes for the fire, 
And all the solemn rites require. 
Go, hasten to the town, O King, 
And Tara's little quickly bring. 
A virtue is despatch: and speed 
Is best of all in hour of need. 
Go, let a chosen band prepare 
The litter of the dead to bear. 
For stout and tall and strong of limb 



Canto XXV. Rama's Speech. 1259 

Must be the chiefs who carry him." 

He spoke, — his friends' delight and pride, — 
Then stood again by Rama's side. 
When Tara 611 heard the words he said 
Within the town he quickly sped, 
And brought, on stalwart shoulders laid, 
The litter for the rites arrayed, 
Framed like a car for Gods, complete 
With painted sides and royal seat, 
With latticed windows deftly made, 
And golden birds and trees inlaid: 
Well joined and wrought in every part, 
A marvel of ingenious art. 
Where pleasure mounds in carven wood 
And many a graven figure stood. 
The best of jewels o'er it hung, 
And wreaths of flowers around it clung, 
And over all was raised on high 
A canopy of saffron dye, 
While like the sun of morning shone 
The brilliant blooms that lay thereon. 
That glorious litter Rama eyed. 
And spake to Lakshman by his side: 
"Let Bali on the bier be placed 
And with all funeral service graced." 
Sugriva then with many a tear 
Drew Bali's body to the bier 
Whereon, with weeping Angad's aid, 
The relics of the chief were laid 
Neath many a vesture's varied fold, 
And wreaths and ornaments and gold. 
Then King Sugriva bade them speed 



611 The Vanar chief, not to be confounded with Tara. 



1260 The Ramayana 

The obsequies by law decreed: 
"Let Vanars lead the way and throw 
Rich gems around them as they go, 
And be the chosen bearers near 
Behind them laden with the bier. 
No costly rite may you deny, 
Used when the proudest monarchs die: 
As for a king of widest sway. 
[355] Perform his obsequies to-day." 

Sugriva gave his high behest; 
Then Princely Tara and the rest, 
With little Angad weeping, led 
The long procession of the dead. 
Behind the funeral litter came, 
With Tara first, each widowed dame, 
In tears and shrieks her loss deplored, 
Add cried aloud, My lord! My lord! 
While wood and hill and valley sent 
In echoes back the shrill lament. 
Then on a low and sandy isle 
Was reared the hero's funeral pile 
By crowds of toiling Vanars, where 
The mountain stream ran fresh and fair, 
The Vanar chiefs, a noble band, 
Had laid the litter on the sand, 
And stood a little space apart, 
Each mourning in his inmost heart. 
But Tara, when her weeping eye 
Saw Bali, on the litter lie, 
Laid his dear head upon her lap, 
And wailed aloud her dire mishap; 
"O mighty Vanar, lord and king, 
To whose fond breast I loved to cling, 
Of goodly arms, wise, brave, and bold, 



Canto XXV. Rama's Speech. 1261 

Rise, look upon me as of old. 
Rise up, my sovereign, dost thou see 
A crowd of subjects weep for thee? 
Still o'er thy face, though breath has fled, 
The joyous light of life is spread: 
Thus around the sun, although he set, 
A crimson glory lingers yet. 
Death clad in Rama's form to-day 
Hast dragged thee from the world away. 
One shaft from his tremendous bow 
Dooms us to widowhood and woe. 
Hast thou, O Vanar King, no eyes 
Thy weeping wives to recognize, 
Who for the length of way unmeet 
Have followed thee with weary feet? 
Yet every moon-faced beauty here 
By thee, O King was counted dear. 
Lord of the Vanar race, hast thou 
No eyes to see Sugriva now? 
About thee stands in mournful mood 
A sore-afflicted multitude, 
And Tara and thy lords of state 
Around their monarch weep and wait. 
Arise my lord, with gentle speech, 
As was thy wont, dismissing each, 
Then in the forest will we play 
And love shall make our spirits gay." 

The Vanar dames raised Tara, drowned 
In floods of sorrow, from the ground; 
And Angad with Sugriva's aid, 
O'erwhelmed with anguish and dismayed, 
Weeping for his departed sire, 
Placed Bali's body on the pyre: 



1262 The Ramayana 

Then lit the flame, and round the dead 
Passed slowly with a mourner's tread. 
Thus with full rites the funeral train 
Performed the service for the slain, 
Then sought the flowing stream and made 
Libations to the parted shade. 
There, setting Angad first in place, 
The chieftains of the Vanar race, 
With Tara and Sugriva, shed 
The water that delights the dead. 



Canto XXVI. The Coronation. 



Each Vanar councillor and peer 
In crowded numbers gathered near 
Sugriva, mournful king, while yet 
His vesture from the wave was wet, 
Before the chief of Raghu's seed 
Unwearied in each arduous deed, 
They stood and raised the reverent hand 
As saints before Lord Brahma stand. 
Then Hanuman of massive mould, 
Like some tall hill of glistering gold, 
Son of the God whose wild blasts shake 
The forest, thus to Rama spake: 
"By thy kind favour, O my lord, 
Sugriva, to his home restored 
Triumphant, has regained to-day 
His rank and power and royal sway. 
He now will call each faithful friend, 
Enter the city, and attend 



Canto XXVI. The Coronation. 1263 

With sage advice and prudent care 
To every task that waits him there. 
Then balm and unguent shall anoint 
Our monarch, as the laws appoint, 
And gems and precious wreaths shall be 
His grateful offering, King, to thee. 
Do thou, O Rama, with thy friend 
Thy steps within the city bend; 
Our ruler on his throne install, 
And with thy presence cheer us all." 



Then, skilled in lore and arts that guide 
The speaker, Raghu's son replied: 
"For fourteen years I might not break 
The mandate that my father spake; 
Nor can I, till that time be fled, 
The street of town or village tread. 
Let King Sugriva seek the town 
Most worthy of her high renown, 
There let him be without delay 
Anointed, and begin his sway." 



This answered, to Sugriva then 
Thus spake anew the king of men: 
"Do thou who knowest right ordain 
Prince Angad consort of thy reign; 
For he is noble, true, and bold, 
And trained a righteous course to hold 
Gifts like his sire's that youth adorn 
Born eldest to the eldest born. [356] 



1264 The Ramayana 

This is the month of Sravan, 612 first 

Of those that see the rain-clouds burst. 

Four months, thou knowest well, extends 

The season when the rain descends. 

No time for deeds of war is this: 

Seek thou thy fair metropolis, 

And I with Lakshman, O my friend, 

The time upon this hill will spend. 

An ample cavern opens there 

Made lovely by the mountain air, 

And lotuses and lilies fill 

The pleasant lake and murmuring rill. 

When Kartiks 613 month shall clear the skies, 

Then tempt the mighty enterprise. 

Now, chieftain to thy home repair, 

And be anointed sovereign there." 

Sugriva heard: he bowed his head: 
Within the lovely town he sped 
Which Bali's royal will had swayed, 
Where thousand Vanar chiefs arrayed 
Gathered in order round their king, 
And led him on with welcoming. 
Low on the earth the lesser crowd 
Fell in prostration as they bowed. 
Sugriva looked with grateful eyes, 
Spake to them all and bade them rise. 
Then through the royal bowers he strode 
Wherein the monarch's wives abode. 



612 Sravan: July-August. But the rains begin a month earlier, and what follows 
must not be taken literally. The text has purvo' yam vdrshiko mdsah Srdvanah 
salildgamdh. The Bengal recension has the same, and Gorresio translates: 
"Equesto ilmese Sravana (luglio-agosto) primo della stagione piovosa, in cui 
dilagano le acque." 



Canto XXVI. The Coronation. 1265 

Soon from the inner chambers came 

The Vanar of exalted fame; 

And joyful friends drew near and shed 

King-making balm upon his head, 

Like Gods anointing in the skies 

Their sovereign of the thousand eyes. 614 

Then brought they, o'er their king to hold 

The white umbrella decked with gold, 

And chouries with their waving hair 

In golden handles wondrous fair; 

And fragrant herbs and seed and spice, 

And sparkling gems exceeding price, 

And every bloom from woods and leas, 

And gum distilled from milky trees; 

And precious ointment white as milk, 

And spotless robes of cloth and silk, 

Wreaths of sweet flowers whose glories gleam 

In grassy grove, on lake or stream. 

And fragrant sandal and each scent 

That makes the soft breeze redolent; 

Grain, honey, odorous seed, and store 

Of oil and curd and golden ore; 

A noble tiger's skin, a pair 

Of sandals wrought with costliest care, 

Eight pairs of damsels drawing nigh 

Brought unguents stained with varied dye. 

Then gems and cates and robes displayed 

Before the twice-born priests were laid, 

That they would deign in order due 



614 "Indras, as the nocturnal sun, hides himself, transformed, in the starry 
heavens: the stars are his eyes. The hundred-eyed or all-seeing (panoptes) 
Argos placed as a spy over the actions of the cow beloved by Zeus, in the 
Hellenic equivalent of this form of Indras." DE GUBERNATIS{FNS, Zoological 
Mythology, Vol. I, p. 418. 



1266 The Ramayana 

To consecrate the king anew. 

The sacred grass was duly spread 

And sacrificial flame was fed, 

Which Scripture-learned priests supplied 

With oil which texts had sanctified. 

Then, with all rites ordained of old, 

High on the terrace bright with gold, 

Whereon a glorious carpet lay, 

And fresh-culled garlands sweet and gay, 

Placed on his throne, Sugriva bent 

His looks toward the Orient. 

In horns from forehead of the bull, 

In pitchers bright and beautiful, 

In urns of gold the Vanara took 

Pure water brought from stream and brook, 

From every consecrated strand 

And every sea that beats the land. 

Then, as prescribed by sacred lore 

And many a mighty sage of yore, 615 

The leaders of the Vanars poured 

The sacred water on their lord. 616 

From every Vanar at the close 

Of that imperial rite arose 

Shouts of glad triumph, loud and long 

Repeated by the high-souled throng. 

Sugriva, when the rite was done, 

Obeyed the hest of Raghu's son, 

Prince Angad to his breast he strained, 

And partner of his sway ordained. 



615 Baudhayana and others. 

616 Sugriva appears to have been consecrated with all the ceremonies that 
attended the Abhisheka or coronation of an Indian prince of the Aryan race. 
Compare the preparations made for Rama's consecration, Book II, Canto III. 
Thus Homer frequently introduces into Troy the rites of Hellenic worship. 



Canto XXVII. Rama On The Hill. 1267 

Once more from all the host rang out 

The loud huzza and jovful shout. 

"Well done! well done!" each Vanar cried, 

And good Sugriva glorified. [357] 

Then with glad voices loudly raised 

Were Rama and his brother praised; 

And bright Kishkindha shone that day 

With happy throngs and banners gay. 



Canto XXVII. Rama On The Hill. 



But when the solemn rite was o'er, 
And bold Sugriva reigned once more, 
The sons of Raghu sought the hill, 
Prasravan of the rushing rill, 
Where roamed the tiger and the deer, 
And lions raised their voice of fear; 
Thick set with trees of every kind, 
With trailing shrubs and plants entwined; 
Home of the ape and monkey, lair 
Of mountain cat and pard and bear. 
In cloudy gloom against the sky 
The sanctifying hills rose high. 
Pierced in their crest, a spacious cave 
To Raghu's sons a shelter gave. 
Then Rama, pure from every crime, 
In words well suited to the time 
To Lakshman spake, whose faithful zeal 
Watched humbly for his brother's weal: 
"I love this spacious cavern where 
There breathes a fresh and pleasant air. 



1268 The Ramayana 

Brave brother, let us here remain 
Throughout the season of the rain. 
For in mine eyes this mountain crest 
Is above all, the loveliest. 
Where copper-hued and black and white 
Show the huge blocks that face the height; 
Where gleams the shine of varied ore, 
Where dark clouds hang and torrents roar; 
Where waving woods are fair to see, 
And creepers climb from tree to tree; 
Where the gay peacock's voice is shrill, 
And sweet birds carol on the hill; 
Where odorous breath is wafted far 
From Jessamine and Sinduvar; 617 
And opening flowers of every hue 
Give wondrous beauty to the view. 
See, too, this pleasant water near 
Our cavern home is fresh and clear; 
And lilies gay with flower and bud 
Are glorious on the lovely flood. 
This cave that fares north and east 
Will shelter us till rain has ceased; 
And towering hills that rise behind 
Will screen us from the furious wind. 
Close by the cavern's portal lies 
And level stone of ample size 
And sable hue, a mighty block 
Long severed from the parent rock. 
Now let thine eye bent northward rest 
A while upon that mountain crest, 
High as a cloud that brings the rain, 
And dark as iron rent in twain. 



617 Vitex Negundo. 



Canto XXVII. Rama On The Hill. 1269 

Look southward, brother, now and view 
A cloudy pile of paler hue 
Like Mount Kailasa's topmost height 
Where ores of every tint are bright. 
See, Lakshman, see before our cave 
That clear brook eastward roll its wave 
As though 'twere Ganga's infant rill 
Down streaming from the three-peaked hill. 
See, by the water's gentle flow 
Asoka, sal, and sandal grow. 
And every lovely tree most fair 
With leaf and bud and flower is there. 
See there, beneath the bending trees 
That fringe her bank, the river flees, 
Clothed with their beauty like a maid 
In all her robes and gems arrayed, 
While from the sedgy banks are heard 
The soft notes of each amorous bird. 
O see what lovely islets stud 
Like gems the bosom of the flood, 
And sarases and wild swans crowd 
About her till she laughs aloud. 
See, lotus blooms the brook o'erspread, 
Some tender blue, some dazzling red, 
And opening lilies white as snow 
Their buds in rich profusion show. 
There rings the joyous peacock's scream, 
There stands the curlew by the stream, 
And holy hermits love to throng 
Where the sweet waters speed along. 
Ranged on the grassy margin shine 
Gay sandal trees in glittering line, 
And all the wondrous verdure seems 
The offspring of creative dreams. 



1270 The Ramayana 

O conquering Prince, there cannot be 
A lovelier place than this we see. 
Here sheltered on the beauteous height 
Our days will pass in calm delight. 
Nor is Kishkindha's city, gay 
With grove and garden, far away. 
Thence will the breeze of evening bring 
Sweet music as the minstrels sing; 
And, when the Vanars dance, will come 
The sound of tabour and of drum. 
Again to spouse and realm restored, 
Girt by his friends, the Vanar lord 
Great glory has acquired; and how 
Can he be less than happy now?" 

This said, the son of Raghu made 
His dwelling in that pleasant shade 
Upon the mountain's shelving side 
That sweetly all his wants supplied. 
But still the hero's troubled mind 
No comfort in his woe could find, 
Yet mourning for his stolen wife 
Dearer to Rama than his life, 
Chief when he saw the Lord of Night 
[358] Rise slowly o'er the eastern height, 

He tossed upon his leafy bed 
With eyes by sleep unvisited. 
Outwelled the tears in ceaseless flow, 
And every sense was numbed by woe. 
Each pang that pierced the mourner through 
Smote Lakshman's faithful bosom too, 
Who, troubled for his brother's sake, 
With wisest words the prince bespake: 
"Arise, my brother, and be strong: 



Canto XXVII. Rama On The Hill. 127 1 

Thy hero heart has mourned too long. 
Thou knowest well that tears and sighs 
Will mar the mightiest enterprise. 
Thine was the soul that loved to dare: 
To serve the Gods was still thy care; 
And ne'er may sorrow's sting subdue 
A heart so resolute and true. 
How canst thou hope to slay in fight 
The giant cruel in his might? 
Unwearied must the champion be 
Who strives with such a foe as he. 
Tear out this sorrow by the root; 
Again be bold and resolute. 
Arise, my brother, and subdue 
The demon and his wicked crew. 
Thou canst destroy the earth, her seas, 
Her rooted hills and giant trees 
Unseated by thy furious hand: 
And shall one fiend thy power withstand? 
Wait through this season of the rain 
Till suns of autumn dry the plain, 
Then shall thy giant foe, and all 
His host and realm, before thee fall. 
I wake thy valour that has slept 
Amid the tears thine eyes have wept; 
As drops of oil in worship raise 
The dormant flame to sudden blaze." 

The son of Raghu heard: he knew 
His brother's rede was wise and true; 
And, honouring his friendly guide, 
In gentle words he thus replied: 
"Whate'er a hero firm and bold, 
Devoted, true, and lofty-souled 



1272 The Ramayana 

Should speak by deep affection led, 
Such are the words which thou hast said. 
I cast away each pensive thought 
That brings the noblest plans to naught, 
And each uninjured power will strain 
Until the purposed end we gain. 
Thy prudent words will I obey, 
And till the close of rain-time stay, 
When King Sugriva will invite 
To action, and the streams be bright. 
The hero saved in hour of need 
Repays the debt with friendly deed: 
But hated by the good are they 
Who take the boon and ne'er repay." 



Canto XXVIII. The Rains. 



"See, brother, see" thus Rama cried 

On Malyavat's 618 dark-wooded side, 

"A chain of clouds, like lofty hills, 

The sky with gathering shadow fills. 

Nine months those clouds have borne the load 

Conceived from sunbeams as they glowed, 

And, having drunk the seas, give birth, 

And drop their offspring on the earth. 

Easy it seems at such a time 

That flight of cloudy stairs to climb, 



618 Malyavat: "The name of this mountain appears to me to be erroneous, and 
I think that instead of Malyavat should be read Malayavat, Malaya is a group 
of mountains situated exactly in that southern part of India where Rama now 
was, while Malyavat is placed to the north east." GORRESIOJFNS. 



Canto XXVIII. The Rains. 1273 

And, from their summit, safely won, 

Hang flowery wreaths about the sun. 

See how the flash of evening's red 

Fringes the fleecy clouds o'erhead 

Till all the sky is streaked and lined 

With bleeding wounds incarnadined, 

Or the wide firmament above 

Shows like a lover sick with love 

And, pale with cloudlets, heaves a sigh 

In the soft breeze that wanders by. 

See, by the fervent heat embrowned, 

How drenched with recent showers, the ground 

Pours out in floods her gushing tears, 

Like Sita wild with torturing fears. 

So softly blows this cloud-born breeze 

Cool through the boughs of camphor trees 

That one might hold it in the cup 

Of hollowed hands and drink it up. 

See, brother, where that rocky steep, 

Where odorous shrubs in rain-drops weep, 

Shows like Sugriva when they shed 

Tne royal balm upon his head. 

Like students at their task appear 

These hills whose misty peaks are near: 

Black deerskin 619 garments wrought of cloud 

Their forms with fitting mantles shroud, 

Each torrent from the summit poured 

Supplies the place of sacred cord. 620 

And winds that in their caverns moan [359] 



619 Mantles of the skin of the black antelope were the prescribed dress of 
ascetics and religious students. 

620 The sacred cord worn as the badge of religious initiation by men of the 
three twice-born castes. 



1274 The Ramayana 

Sound like the voice's undertone. 
From east to west red lightnings flash, 
And, quivering neath the golden lash, 
The great sky like a generous steed 
Groans inly at each call to speed. 
Yon lightning, as it flashes through 
The giant cloud of sable hue, 
Recalls my votaress Sita pressed 
Mid struggles to the demon's breast. 
See, on those mountain ridges stand 
Sweet shrubs that bud and bloom expand. 
The soft rain ends their pangs of grief, 
And drops its pearls on flower and leaf. 
But all their raptures stab me through 
And wake my pining love anew. 
Now through the air no wild bird flies, 
Each lily shuts her weary eyes; 
And blooms of opening jasmin show 
The parting sun has ceased to glow. 
No captain now for conquest burns, 
But homeward with his host returns; 
For roads and kings' ambitious dreams 
Have vanished neath descending streams. 
This is the watery month 623 wherein 



The hum with which students conduct their tasks. 

I omit here a long general description of the rainy season which is not 
found in the Bengal recension and appears to have been interpolated by a far 
inferior and much later hand than Valmiki's. It is composed in a metre different 
from that of the rest of the Canto, and contains figures of poetical rhetoric and 
common-places which are the delight of more recent poets. 
623 Praushthapada or Bhadra, the modern Bhadon, corresponds to half of 
August and half of September. 



Canto XXVIII. The Rains. 1275 

The Samar's 624 sacred chants begin. 

Ashadha 625 past, now Kosal's lord 626 

The harvest of the spring has stored, 627 

And dwells within his palace freed 

From every care of pressing need. 

Full is the moon, and fierce and strong 

Impetuous Sarju 628 roars along 

As though Ayodhya's crowds ran out 

To greet their king with echoing shout. 

In this sweet time of ease and rest 

No care disturbs Sugriva's breast, 

The foe that marred his peace o'erthrown, 

And queen and realm once more his own. 

Alas, a harder fate is mine, 

Reft both of realm and queen to pine, 

And, like the bank which floods erode, 

I sink beneath my sorrow's load. 

Sore on my soul my miseries weigh, 

And these long rains our action stay, 

While Ravan seems a mightier foe 

Than I dare hope to overthrow. 

I saw the roads were barred by rain, 

I knew the hopes of war were vain; 

Nor could I bid Sugriva rise, 

Though prompt to aid my enterprise. 

E'en now I scarce can urge my friend 



624 The Saman or Sama-veda, the third of the four Vedas, is really merely a 
reproduction of parts of the Rig-veda, transposed and scattered about piece- 
meal, only 78 verses in the whole being, it is said, untraceable to the present 
recension of the Rig-veda. 

625 Ashadha is the month corresponding to parts of June and July. 

626 Bharat, who was regent during Rama's absence. 

627 Or with Gorresio, following the gloss of another commentary: "Has com- 
pleted every holy rite and accumulated stores of merit." 

628 The river on which Ayodhya was built. 



1276 The Ramayana 

On whom his house and realm depend, 

Who, after toil and peril past, 

Is happy with his queen at last. 

Sugriva after rest will know 

The hour is come to strike the blow, 

Nor will his grateful soul forget 

My succour, or deny the debt 

I know his generous heart, and hence 

Await the time with confidence 

When he his friendly zeal will show, 

And brooks again untroubled flow." 629 



Canto XXIX. Hanuman's Counsel. 



No flash of lightning lit the sky, 
No cloudlet marred the blue on high. 
The Saras 630 missed the welcome rain, 
The moon's full beams were bright again. 
Sugriva, lapped in bliss, forgot 
The claims of faith, or heeded not; 
And by alluring joys misled 
The path of falsehood learned to tread. 
In careless ease he passed each hour, 
And dallied in his lady's bower. 
Each longing of his heart was stilled, 
And every lofty hope fulfilled. 
With royal Ruma by his side, 
[360] Or Tara yet a dearer bride, 



629 I omit a sloka or four lines on gratitude and ingratitude repeated word for 
word from the last Canto. 

630 The Indian crane; a magnificent bird easily domesticated. 



Canto XXIX. Hanuman's Counsel. 1277 

He spent each joyous day and night 

In revelry and wild delight, 

Like Indra whom the nymphs entice 

To taste the joys of Paradise. 

The power to courtiers' hands resigned, 

To all their acts his eyes were blind. 

All doubt, all fear he cast aside 

And lived with pleasure for his guide. 

But sage Hanuman, firm and true, 

Whose heart the lore of Scripture knew, 

Well trained to meet occasion, trained 

In all by duty's law ordained, 

Strove with his prudent speech to find 

Soft access to the monarch's mind. 

He, skilled in every gentle art 

Of eloquence that wins the heart, 

Sugriva from his trance to wake, 

His salutary counsel spake: 

"The realm is won, thy name advanced, 
The glory of thy house enhanced, 
And now thy foremost care should be 
To aid the friends who succoured thee. 
He who is firm and faithful found 
To friendly ties in honour bound, 
Will see his name and fame increase 
And his blest kingdom thrive in peace. 
Wide sway is his who truly boasts 
That friends and treasure, self and hosts, 
All blent in one harmonious whole, 
Are subject to his firm control. 
Do thou, whose footsteps never stray 
From the clear bounds of duty's way, 
Assist, as honour bids thee, now 



1278 The Ramayana 

Thy friends, observant of thy vow. 
For if all cares we lay not by, 
And to our friend's assistance fly, 
We, after, toil in idle haste, 
And all the late endeavour waste. 
Up ! nor the promised help delay 
Until the hour have slipped away. 
Up ! and with Raghu's son renew 
The search for Sita lost to view. 
The hour is come: he hears the call, 
But not on thee reproaches fall 
From him who labours to repress 
His eager spirit's restlessness. 
Long joined to thee in friendly ties 
He made thy fame and fortune rise, 
In gentle gifts by none excelled. 
In splendid might unparalleled. 
Up, to his succour, King! repay 
The favour of that prosperous day, 
And to thy bravest captains send 
Prompt mandates to assist thy friend. 
The cry for help thou wilt not spurn 
Although no grace demands return: 
And wilt thou not thine aid afford 
To him who realm and life restored? 
Exert thy power, and thou hast won 
The love of Dasaratha's son: 
And wilt thou for his summons wait, 
And, till he call thee, hesitate? 
Think not the hero needs thy power 
To save him in the desperate hour: 
He with his arrows could subdue 
The Gods and all the demon crew, 
And only waits that he may see 



Canto XXIX. Hanuman's Counsel. 1279 

Redeemed the promise made by thee. 

For thee he risked his life and fought, 

For thee that great deliverance wrought. 

Then let us trace through earth and skies 

His lady wheresoe'er she lies. 

Through realms above, beneath, we flee, 

And plant our footsteps on the sea. 

Then why, O Lord of Vanars, still 

Delay us waiting for thy will? 

Give thy commands, O King, and say 

What task has each and where the way. 

Before thee myriad Vanars stand 

To sweep through heaven, o'er seas and land." 

Sugriva heard the timely rede 
That roused him in the day of need, 
And thus to Nfla prompt and brave 
His hest the imperial Vanar gave: 
"Go, Nfla, to the distant hosts 
That keep in arms their several posts, 
And all the armies that protect 
The quarters, 631 with their chiefs, collect. 
To all the luminaries placed 
In intermediate regions haste, 
And bid each captain rise and lead 
His squadrons to their king with speed. 
Do thou meanwhile with strictest care 
All that the time requires prepare. 
The loitering Vanar who delays 
To gather here ere thrice five days, 
Shall surely die for his offence, 
Condemned for sinful negligence." 



631 The troops who guard the frontiers on the north, south, east and west. 



1280 The Ramayana 

Canto XXX. Rama's Lament. 

But Rama in the autumn night 
Stood musing on the mountain height, 
While grief and love that scorned control 
Shook with wild storms the hero's soul. 
Clear was the sky, without a cloud 
The glory of the moon to shroud. 
And bright with purest silver shone 
Each hill the soft beams looked upon. 
He knew Sugriva's heart was bent 
On pleasure, gay and negligent. 
He thought on Janak's child forlorn 
From his fond arms for ever torn. 
He mourned occasion slipping by, 
[361] And faint with anguish heaved each sigh. 

He sat where many a varied streak 
Of rich ore marked the mountain peak. 
He raised his eyes the sky to view, 
And to his love his sad thoughts flew. 
He heard the Saras cry, and faint 
With sorrow poured his love-born plaint: 
"She, she who mocked the softest tone 
Of wild birds' voices with her own, — 
Where strays she now, my love who played 
So happy in our hermit shade? 
How can my absent love behold 
The bright trees with their flowers of gold, 
And all their gleaming glory see 
With eyes that vainly look for me? 
How is it with my darling when 
From the deep tangles of the glen 
Float carols of each bird elate 
With rapture singing to his mate? 



Canto XXX. Rama's Lament. 128 1 

In vain my weary glances rove 

From lake to hill, from stream to grove: 

I find no rapture in the scene, 

And languish for my fawn-eyed queen. 

Ah, does strong love with wild unrest, 

Born of the autumn, stir her breast? 

And does the gentle lady pine 

Till her bright eyes shall look in mine?" 

Thus Raghu's son in piteous tone, 
O'erwhelmed with sorrow, made his moan. 
E'en as the bird that drinks the rains 632 
To Indra thousand-eyed complains. 
Then Lakshman who had wandered through 
The copses where the berries grew, 
Returning to the cavern found 
His brother chief in sorrow drowned, 
And pitying the woes that broke 
The spirit of the hero spoke: 

"Why cast thy strength of soul away, 
And weakly yield to passion's sway? 
Arise, my brother, do and dare 
Ere action perish in despair. 
Recall the firmness of thy heart, 
And nerve thee for a hero's part. 
Whose is the hand unscathed to sieze 
The red flame quickened by the breeze? 
Where is the foe will dare to wrong 
Or keep the Maithil lady long?" 
Then with pale lips that sorrow dried 
The son of Raghu thus replied: 



The Chataka, Cuculus, Melanoleucus, is supposed to drink nothing but the 
water for the clouds. 



1282 The Ramayana 

"Lord Indra thousand-eyed, has sent 
The sweet rain from the firmament, 
Sees the rich promise of the grain, 
And turns him to his rest again. 
The clouds with voices loud and deep, 
Veiling each tree upon the steep, 
Up on the thirsty earth have shed 
Their precious burden and are fled. 
Now in kings' hearts ambition glows: 
They rush to battle with their foes; 633 
But in Sugriva's sloth I see 
No care for deeds of chivalry. 
See, Lakshman, on each breezy height 
A thousand autumn blooms are bright. 
See how the wings of wild swans gleam 
On every islet of the stream. 
Four months of flood and rain are past: 
A hundred years they seemed to last 
To me whom toil and trouble tried, 
My Sita severed from my side. 
She, gentlest woman, weak and young, 
Still to her lord unwearied clung. 
Still by the exile's side she stood 
In the wild ways of Dandak wood, 
Like a fond bird disconsolate 
If parted from her darling mate. 
Sugriva, lapped in soft repose, 
Untouched by pity for my woes, 
Scorns the poor exile, dispossessed, 
By Ravan's mightier arm oppressed, 
The wretch who comes to sue and pray 
From his lost kingdom far away. 



633 The time for warlike expeditions began when the rains had ceased. 



Canto XXX. Rama's Lament. 1283 

Hence falls on me the Vanar's scorn, 

A suitor friendless and forlorn. 

The time is come: with heedless eye 

He sees the hour of action fly, — 

Unmindful, now his hopes succeed, 

Of promise made in stress of need. 

Go seek him sunk in bliss and sloth, 

Forgetful of his royal oath, 

And as mine envoy thus upbraid 

The monarch for his help delayed: 

"Vile is the wretch who will not pay 

The favour of an earlier day, 

Hope in the supplicant's breast awakes, 

And then his plighted promise breaks. 

Noblest, mid all of women born, 

Who keeps the words his lips have sworn, 

Yea, if those words be good or ill, 

Maintains his faith unbroken still. 

The thankless who forget to aid 

The friend who helped them when they prayed, 

Dishonoured in their death shall lie, 

And dogs shall pass their corpses by. 

Sure thou wouldst see my strained arm hold 

My bow of battle backed with gold, 

Wouldst gaze upon its awful form 

Like lightning flashing through the storm, 

And hear the clanging bowstring loud 

As thunder from a labouring cloud." 



His valour and his strength I know: 
But pleasure's sway now sinks them low, 
With thee, my brother, for ally 
That strength and valour I defy. [362] 



1284 The Ramayana 

He promised, when the rains should end, 
The succour of his arm to lend. 
Those months are past: he dares forget, 
And, lapped in pleasure, slumbers yet. 
No thought disturbs his careless breast 
For us impatient and distressed, 
And, while we sadly wait and pine, 
Girt by his lords he quaffs the wine. 
Go, brother, go, his palace seek, 
And boldly to Sugriva speak, 
Thus give the listless king to know 
What waits him if my anger glow: 
Still open, to the gloomy God, 
Lies the sad path that Bali trod. 
"Still to thy plighted word be true, 
Lest thou, O King, that path pursue. 
I launched the shaft I pointed well. 
And Bali, only Bali, fell. 
But, if from truth thou dare to stray, 
Both thee and thine this hand shall slay." 
Thus be the Vanar king addressed, 
Then add thyself what seems the best." 



Canto XXXI. The Envoy. 

Thus Rama spoke, and Lakshman then 
Made answer to the prince of men: 
"Yea, if the Vanar, undeterred 
By fear of vengeance, break his word, 
Loss of his royal power ere long 
Shall pay the traitor for the wrong. 



Canto XXXI. The Envoy. 1285 

Nor deem I him so void of sense 
To brave the bitter consequence. 
But if enslaved to joy he lie, 
And scorn thy grace with blinded eye, 
Then let him join his brother slain: 
Unmeet were such a wretch to reign. 
Quick rises, kindling in my breast, 
The wrath that will not be repressed, 
And bids me in my fury slay 
The breaker of his faith to-day. 
Let Bali's son thy consort trace 
With bravest chiefs of Vanar race." 



Thus spoke the hero, and aglow 
With rage of battle seized his bow. 
But Rama thus in gentler mood 
With fitting words his speech renewed: 
"No hero with a soul like thine 
To paths of sin will e'er incline, 
He who his angry heart can tame 
Is worthiest of a hero's name. 
Not thine, my brother, be the part 
So alien from the tender heart, 
Nor let thy feet by wrath misled 
Forsake the path they loved to tread. 
From harsh and angry words abstain: 
With gentle speech a hearing gain, 
And tax Sugriva with the crime 
Of failing faith and wasted time." 



1286 The Ramayana 

Then Lakshman, bravest of the brave, 
Obeyed the hest that Rama gave, 
To whom devoting every thought 
The Vanar' s royal town he sought. 
As Mandar's mountain heaves on high 
His curved peak soaring to the sky, 
So Lakshman showed, his dread bow bent 
Like Indra's 634 in the firmament. 
His brother's wrath, his brother's woe 
Inflamed his soul to fiercest glow. 
The tallest trees to earth were cast 
As furious on his way he passed, 
And where he stepped, so fiercely fleet, 
The stones were shivered by his feet. 
He reached Kishkindha's city deep 
Embosomed where the hills were steep, 
Where street and open square were lined 
With legions of the Vanar kind. 
Then, as his lips with fury swelled, 
The lord of Raghu's line beheld 
A stream of Vanar chiefs outpoured 
To do obeisance to their lord. 
But when the mighty prince in view 
Of the thick coming Vanars drew, 
They turned them in amaze to seize 
Crags of the rock and giant trees. 
He saw, and fiercer waxed his ire, 
As oil lends fury to the fire. 
Scarce had the Vanar chieftains seen 
That wrathful eye, that troubled mien 
Fierce as the God's who rules the dead, 
When, turned in wild affright, they fled. 



Canto XXXI. The Envoy. 1287 

Speeding in breathless terror all 

Sought King Sugriva's council hall, 

And there made known their tale of fear, 

That Lakshman wild with rage, was near. 

The king, untroubled by alarms, 

Held Tara in his amorous arms, 

And in the distant bower with her 

Heard not each clamorous messenger. 

Then, summoned at the lords' behest 

Forth from the city portals pressed, 

Each like some elephant or cloud, 

The Vanars in a trembling crowd: 

Fierce warriors all with massive jaws 

And terrors of their tiger claws, 

Some matched ten elephants, and some 

A hundred's strength could overcome. 

Some chieftains, mightier than the rest, 

Ten times a hundred's force possessed. 

With eyes of fury Lakshman viewed 

The Vanars' tree-armed multitude. 

Thus garrisoned from side to side 

The city walls assault defied. 

Beyond the moat that girt the wall 

Advanced the Vanar chiefs; and all 

Upon the plain in firm brigade, 

Impetuous warriors, stood arrayed. [363] 

Red at the sight flashed Lakshman's eyes, 

His bosom heaved tumultuous sighs, 

And forth the fire of fury broke 

Like flame that flashes through the smoke. 

Like some fierce snake the hero stood: 

His bow recalled the expanded hood, 

And in his shaft-head bright and keen 

The flickering of its tongue was seen: 



1288 The Ramayana 

And in his own all-conquering might 
The venom of its deadly bite. 
Prince Angad marked his angry look, 
And every hope his heart forsook. 
Then, his large eyes with fury red, 
To Angad Lakshman turned and said: 



"Go tell the king that Lakshman waits 
For audience at the city gates, 
Whose heart, O tamer of thy foes, 
Is heavy with his brother's woes. 
Bid him to Rama's word attend, 
And ask if he will aid his friend. 
Go, let the king my message learn: 
Then hither with all speed return." 



Prince Angad heard and wild with grief 
Cried as he looked upon the chief: 
"Tis Lakshman's self: impelled by ire 
He seeks the city of my sire." 
At the fierce words and furious look 
Of Raghu's son he quailed and shook. 
Back through the city gates he sped, 
And, laden with the tale of dread, 
Sought King Sugriva, filled his ears 
And Ruma's with his doubts and fears. 
To Ruma and the king he bent, 
And clasped their feet most reverent, 
Clasped the dear feet of Tara, too, 
And told the startling tale anew. 



Canto XXXI. The Envoy. 1289 

But King Sugriva's ear was dulled, 
By love and wine and languor lulled, 
Nor did the words that Angad spake 
The slumberer from his trance awake. 
But soon as Raghu's son came nigh 
The startled Vanars raised a cry, 
And strove to win his grace, while dread 
Each anxious heart disquieted. 
They saw, and, as they gathered round, 
Rose from the mighty throng a sound 
Like torrents when they downward dash, 
Or thunder with the lightning's flash. 
The shouting of the Vanars broke 
Sugriva's slumber, and he woke: 
Still with the wine his eyes were red, 
His neck with flowers was garlanded. 
Roused at the voice of Angad came 
Two Vanar lords of rank and fame; 
One Yaksha, one Prabhava hight, — 
Wise counsellors of gain and right. 
They came and raised their voices high, 
And told that Raghu's son was nigh: 
"Two brothers steadfast in their truth, 
Each glorious in the bloom of youth, 
Worthy of rule, have left the skies, 
And clothed their forms in men's disguise. 
One at thy gates, in warlike hands 
Holding his mighty weapon, stands. 
His message is the charioteer 
That brings the eager envoy near, 
Urged onward by his bold intent, 
And by the hest of Rama sent." 
The gathered Vanars saw and fled, 
And raised aloud their cry of dread. 



1290 The Ramayana 

Son of Queen Tara, Angad ran 
To parley with the godlike man. 
Still fiery-eyed with rage and hate 
Stands Lakshman at the city gate, 
And trembling Vanars scarce can fly 
Scathed by the lightning of his eye. 
"Go with thy son, thy kith and kin, 
The favour of the prince to win, 
And bow thy reverent head that so 
His fiery wrath may cease to glow. 
What righteous Rama bids thee, do, 
And to thy plighted word be true." 



Canto XXXII. Hanuman's Counsel. 

Sugriva heard, and, trained and tried 
In counsel, to his lords replied: 
"No deed of mine, no hasty word 
The anger of the prince has stirred. 
But haply some who hate me still 
And watch their time to work me ill, 
Have slandered me to Raghu's son, 
Accused of deeds I ne'er have done. 
Now, O my lords — for you are wise — 
Speak truly what your hearts advise, 
And, pondering each event, inquire 
The reason of the prince's ire. 
No fear have I of Lakshman: none: 
No dread of Raghu's mightier son. 
But wrath, that fires a friendly breast 
Without due cause, disturbs my rest. 



Canto XXXII. Hanuman's Counsel. 1291 

With labour light is friendship gained, 

But with severest toil maintained. 

And doubt is strong, and faith is weak, [364] 

And friendship dies when traitors speak. 

Hence is my troubled bosom cold 

With fear of Rama lofty-souled; 

For heavy on my spirit weigh 

His favours I can ne'er repay." 

He ceased: and Hanuman of all 
The Vanars in the council hall 
In wisdom first, and rank, expressed 
The thoughts that filled his prudent breast: 
"No marvel thou rememberest yet 
The service thou shouldst ne'er forget, 
How the brave prince of Raghu's seed 
Thy days from fear and peril freed; 
And Bali for thy sake o'erthrew, 
Whom Indra's self might scarce subdue. 
I doubt not Rama's anger burns 
For the scant love thy heart returns. 
For this he sends his brother, him 
Whose glory never waxes dim. 
Sunk in repose thy careless eye 
Marks not the seasons as they fly, 
Nor sees that autumn has begun 
With dark blooms opening to the sun. 
Clear is the sky: no cloudlet mars 
The splendour of the shining stars. 
The balmy air is soft and still, 
And clear and bright are lake and rill. 
Thou heedest not with blinded eyes 
The hour for warlike enterprise. 
Hence Lakshman hither comes to break 



1292 The Ramayana 

Thy slothful trance and bid thee wake. 
Then, Monarch, with a patient ear 
The high-souled Rama's message hear, 
Which, reft of wife and realm and friends, 
Thus by another's mouth he sends. 
Thou, Vanar King, hast done amiss: 
And now I see no way but this: 
Before his envoy humbly stand 
And sue for peace with suppliant hand. 
High duty bids a courtier seek 
His master's weal, and freely speak. 
So by no thought of fear controlled 
My speech, O King, is free and bold, 
For Rama, if his anger glow, 
Can, with the terrors of his bow 
This earth with all the Gods subdue, 
Gandharvas, 635 and the demon crew. 
Unwise to stir his wrathful mood 
Whose favour must again be wooed. 
And, most of all, unwise for one 
Grateful like thee for service done. 
Go with thy son and kinsmen: bend 
Thy humble head and greet thy friend. 
And, like a fond obedient spouse, 
Be faithful to thy plighted vows." 



Canto XXXIII. Lakshman's Entry. 



Canto XXXIII. Lakshman's Entry. 1293 

Through the fair city Lakshman came, 

Invited in Sugriva's name. 

Within the gates the guardian bands, 

Of Vanars raised their suppliant hands, 

And in their ordered ranks, amazed, 

Upon the princely hero gazed, 

They marked each burning breath he drew, 

The fury of his soul they knew. 

Their hearts were chilled with sudden fear: 

They gazed, but dared not venture near, 

Before his eyes the city, gay 

With gems and flowery gardens, lay, 

Where fane and palace rose on high, 

And things of beauty charmed the eye. 

Where trees of every blossom grew 

Yielding their fruit in season due 

To Vanars of celestial seed 

Who wore each varied form at need, 

Fair-faced and glorious with the shine 

Of heavenly robes and wreaths divine. 

There sandal, aloe, lotus bloomed, 

And there delicious breath perfumed 

The city's broad street, redolent 

Of sugary mead 636 and honey scent. 

There many a lofty palace rose 

Like Vindhya or the Lord of Snows, 

And with sweet murmur sparkling rills 

Leapt lightly down the sheltering hills. 

On many a glorious palace, raised 

For prince and noble, 637 Lakshman gazed: 



636 Maireya, a spirituous liquor from the blossoms of the Lythrum fruticosum, 
with sugar, &c. 

637 Their names are as follows: Angad, Mafnda, Dwida, Gavaya, Gavaksha, 
Gaja, Sarabha, Vidyunmali, Sampati, Suryaksa, Hanuman, Virabahu, Subahu, 



1294 The Ramayana 

Like clouds of paly hue they shone 
With fragrant wreaths that hung thereon: 
There wealth of jewels was enshrined, 
And fairer gems of womankind. 
There gleamed, of noble height and size, 
Like Indra's mansion in the skies, 
Protected by a crystal fence 
Of rock, the royal residence, 
With roof and turret high and bright 
Like Mount Kailasa's loftiest height. 
There blooming trees, Mahendra's gift, 
High o'er the walls were seen to lift 
Their golden fruited boughs, that made 
With leaf and flower delicious shade. 
[365] He saw a band of Vanars wait, 

Wielding their weapons, at the gate 

Where golden portals flashed between 

Celestial garlands red and green. 

Within Sugriva's fair abode 

Unchecked the mighty hero strode, 

As when the sun of autumn shrouds 

His glory in a pile of clouds. 

Through seven wide courts he quickly passed, 

And reached the royal tower at last, 

Where seats were set with couch and bed 

Of gold and silver richly spread. 

While the young chieftain's feet drew near 

The sound of music reached his ear, 

As the soft breathings of the flute 

Came blending with the voice and lute. 

Then beauty showed her youth and grace 

And varied charm of form and face: 



Nala, Kumuda, Sushena, Tara, Jambuvatu, Dadhivakra, Nfla, Supatala, and 
Sunetra. 



Canto XXXIII. Lakshman's Entry. 1295 

Soft bright-eyed creatures, fair and young, — 

Gay garlands round their necks were hung, 

And greater charms to each were lent 

By richest dress and ornament. 

He saw the calm attendants wait 

About their lord in careless state, 

Heard women's girdles chime in sweet 

Accordance with their tinkling feet. 

He heard the anklet's silvery sound, 

He saw the calm that reigned around, 

And o'er him, as he listened, came 

A rush of rage, a flood of shame. 

He drew his bowstring: with the clang 

From ease to west the welkin rang: 

Then in his modest mood withdrew 

A little from the ladies' view. 

And sternly silent stood apart, 

While wrath for Rama filled his heart. 

Sugriva knew the sounding string, 

And at the call the Vanar king 

Sprang swiftly from his golden seat, 

And feared the coming prince to meet. 

Then with cold lips that terror dried 

To beauteous Tara thus he cried: 

"What cause of anger, O my spouse 

Fair with the charm of lovely brows, 

Sets Lakshman's gentle breast on fire, 

And brings him in unwonted ire? 

Say, canst thou see, O faultless dame, 

A cause to fill his soul with flame? 

For there must be a reason when 

Such fury stirs the king of men. 

Reveal the sin, if sin of mine 

Anger the lord of Raghu's line. 



1296 The Ramayana 

Or go thyself, his rage subdue, 
And with soft words his favour woo. 
Soon as on thee his eyes are set 
His heart this anger will forget, 
For men like him of lofty mind 
Are never stern with womankind. 
First let thy gentle speech disarm 
His fury, and his spirit charm, 
And I, from fear of peril free, 
The conqueror of his foes will see." 



She heard: with faltering steps and slow, 
With eyes that shone with trembling glow, 
With gold-girt body gently bent 
To meet the stranger prince she went. 
When Lakshman saw the Vanar queen 
With tranquil eyes and modest mien, 
Before the dame he bent his head, 
And anger, at her presence, fled. 
Made bold by draughts of wine, and cheered 
By Lakshman's look no more she feared, 
And in the trust his favour lent 
She thus addressed him eloquent: 
"Whence springs thy burning fury? say: 
Who dares thy will to disobey? 
Who checks the maddened flames that seize 
On forests full of withered trees?" 



Then Lakshman spoke, her mind to ease, 
His kind reply in words like these: 



Canto XXXIII. Lakshman's Entry. 1297 

"Thy lord his days in pleasure spends, 
Heedless of duty and of friends, 
Nor dost thou mark, though fondly true, 
The evil path his steps pursue. 
He cares not for affairs of state, 
Nor us forlorn and desolate, 
But sits a mere spectator still, 
A sensual slave to pleasure's will. 
Four months were fixed, the time agreed 
When he should help us in our need: 
But, bound in toils of pleasure fast, 
He sees not that the months are past. 
Where beats the heart which draughts of wine 
To virtue or to gain incline? 
Hast thou not heard those draughts destroy 
Virtue and gain and love and joy? 
For those who, helped at need, refuse 
Their aid in turn, their virtue lose: 
And they who scorn a friend disdain 
A treasure naught may buy again. 
Thy lord has cast his friend away, 
Nor feared from virtue's path to stray, 
If this be true, declare, O dame 
Who knowest duty's every claim, 
What further work remains for us 
Deceived and disappointed thus." 

She listened, for his words were kind, 
Where virtue showed with gain combined, 
And thus in turn the prince addressed, 
As hope was rising in his breast: 
"No time, no cause of wrath I see 
With those who live and honour thee: 
And thou shouldst bear without offence 



1298 The Ramayana 

Thy servant's fitful negligence. 
I know the seasons glide away, 
While Rama maddens at delay 
I know what deed our thanks has earned, 
I know that grace should be returned. 
But still I know, whate'er befall, 
[366] That conquering love is lord of all; 

Know where Sugriva's thoughts, possessed 
By one absorbing passion, rest. 
But he whom sensual joys debase 
Heeds not the claim of time and place, 
And sees not with his blinded sight 
His duty or his gain aright. 
O pardon him who loves me ! spare 
The Vanar caught in pleasure's snare, 
And once again let Rama grace 
With favour him who rules our race. 
E'en royal saints, whose chief delight 
Was penance and austerest rite, 
At love's commandment have unbent, 
Beguiled by sweetest blandishment. 
And know, Sugriva, roused at last, 
The order to his lords has passed, 
And, long by love and bliss delayed, 
Wakes all on fire your hopes to aid. 
A countless host his city fills, 
New-gathered from a thousand hills: 
Impetuous chiefs, who wear at need 
Each varied form, his legions lead. 
Come then, O hero, kept aloof 
By modest awe, nor fear reproof: 
A faithful friend untouched by blame 
May look upon another's dame." 



Canto XXXIV. Lakshman's Speech. 1299 

He passed within, by Tara pressed, 
And by his own impatient breast, 
Refulgent there in sunlike sheen 
Sugriva on his throne was seen. 
Gay garlands round his neck were twined, 
And Ruma by her lord recline. 



Canto XXXIV. Lakshman's Speech. 



Sugriva started from his rest 

With doubt and terror in his breast. 

He heard the prince's furious tread 

He saw his eyes glow fiercely red. 

Swift sprang the monarch to his feet 

Upstarting from his golden seat. 

Rose Ruma and her fellows, too, 

And closely round Sugriva drew, 

As round the moon's full glory stand 

Attendant stars in glittering band. 

Sugriva glanced with reddened eyes, 

Raised his joined hands in suppliant guise 

Flew to the door, and rooted there 

Stood like the tree that grants each prayer. 638 

And Lakshman saw, and, fiercely moved, 

With angry speech the king reproved: 



638 The Kalpadruma or Wishing-tree is one of the trees of Svarga or Indra's 
Paradise: it has the power of granting all desires. 



1300 The Ramayana 

"Famed is the prince who loves the truth, 
Whose soul is touched with tender ruth, 
Who, liberal, keeps each sense subdued, 
And pays the debt of gratitude. 
But all unmeet a king to be, 
The meanest of the mean is he 
Who basely breaks the promise made 
To trusting friends who lent him aid. 
He sins who for a steed has lied, 
As if a hundred steeds had died: 
Or if he lie, a cow to win, 
Tenfold as heavy is the sin. 
But if the lie a man betray, 
Both he and his shall all decay. 
O Vanar King, the thankless man 
Is worthy of the general ban, 
Who takes assistance of his friends, 
And in his turn no service lends. 
This verse of old by Brahma sung 
Is echoed now by every tongue. 
Hear what He cried in angry mood 
Bewailing man's ingratitude: 
"For draughts of wine, for slaughtered cows, 
For treacherous theft, for broken vows 
A pardon is ordained: but none 
For thankless scorn of service done." 
Ungrateful, Vanar King, art thou, 
And faithless to thy plighted vow. 
For Rama brought thee help, and yet 
Thou shunnest to repay the debt: 
Or, grateful, thou hadst surely pressed 
To aid the hero in his quest. 



639 The meaning is that if a man promises to give a horse and then breaks his 
word he commits a sin as great as if he had killed a hundred horses. 



Canto XXXV. Tara's Speech. 1301 

Thou art, in vulgar pleasures drowned, 

False to thy bond in honour bound. 

Nor yet has Rama's guileless heart 

Discerned thee for the thing thou art — 

A snake who holds the frogs that cries 

And lures fresh victims as it dies. 

Brave Rama, born for glorious fate, 

Has set thee in thy high estate, 

And to the Vanars' throne restored, 

Great-souled himself, their mean-souled lord. 

Now if thy pride disown what he, 

High thoughted prince, has done for thee, 

Struck by his arrows shalt thou fall, 

And Bali meet in Yama's hall. 

Still open, to the gloomy God, 

Lies the sad path thy brother trod. 

Then to thy plighted word be true, 

Nor let thy steps that path pursue. 

Methinks the shafts of Rama, shot 

Like thunderbolts, thou heedest not, 

Who canst, absorbed in sensual bliss, 

Thy promise from thy mind dismiss." 



[367] 



Canto XXXV. Tara's Speech. 



1302 The Ramayana 

He ceased: and Tara starry-eyed 
Thus to the angry prince replied: 
"Not to my lord shouldst thou address 
A speech so fraught with bitterness: 
Not thus reproached my lord should be, 
And least of all, O Prince, by thee. 
He is no thankless coward — no — 
With spirit dead to valour's glow. 
From paths of truth he never strays, 
Nor wanders in forbidden ways. 
Ne'er will Sugriva's heart forget, 
By Rama saved, the lasting debt. 
Still in his grateful breast will live 
The succour none but he could give. 
Restored to fame by Rama's grace, 
To empire o'er the Vanar race, 
From ceaseless dread and toil set free, 
Restored to Ruma and to me: 
By grief and care and exile tried, 
New to the bliss so long denied, 
Like Visvamitra once, alas, 
He marks not how the seasons pass. 
That saint ten thousand years remained, 
By sweet Ghritachfs 640 love enchained, 
And deemed those years, that flew away 
So lightly, but a single day. 
O, if those years unheeded flew 
By him who times and seasons knew, 
Unequalled for his lofty mind, 
What marvel meaner eyes are blind? 
Then be not angry, Raghu's son, 
And let thy brother feel for one 



640 The story is told in Book I, Canto LXIII, but the charmer there is called 
Menaka. 



Canto XXXV. Tara's Speech. 1303 

Who many a weary year has spent 

Stranger to love and blandishment. 

Let not this wrath thy soul inflame, 

Like some mean wretch unknown to fame: 

For high and noble hearts like thine 

Love mercy and to ruth incline, 

Calm and deliberate, and slow 

With anger's raging fire to glow. 

At length, O righteous prince, relent, 

Nor let my words in vain be spent, 

This sudden blaze of fury slake, 

I pray thee for Sugriva's sake. 

He would renounce at Rama's call 

Ruma and Angad, me and all 

Who call him lord: his gold and grain, 

The favour of his friend to gain. 

His arm shall slay the fiend more base 

In soul than all his impious race, 

And happy Rama reunite 

To Sita, rival in delight 

Of the triumphant Moon when he 

Rejoins his darling Rohini. 641 

Ten million million demons guard 

The gates of Lanka firmly barred. 

All hope until that host be slain, 

To smite the robber king is vain. 

Nor with Sugriva's aid alone 

May king and host be overthrown. 

Thus ere he died — for well he knew — 

Spake Bali, and his words are true. 

I know not what his proofs might be, 



641 Rohini is the name of the ninth Nakshatra or lunar asterism personified as 
a daughter of Daksha, and the favourite wife of the Moon. Aldebaran is the 
principal star in the constellation. 



1304 The Ramayana 

But speak the words he spake to me. 

Hence far and wide our lords are sent 

To raise the mightiest armament, 

For their return Sugriva waits 

Ere he can sally from his gates. 

Still is the oath Sugriva swore 

Kept firmly even as before: 

And the great host this day will be 

Assembled by the king's decree, 

Ten thousand thousand troops, who wear 

The form of monkey and of bear, 

Prepared for thee the war to wage: 

Then let thy wrath no longer rage. 

The matrons of the Vanar race 

See marks of fury in thy face; 

They see thine eyes like blood are red, 

And will not yet be comforted." 



Canto XXXVI. Sugriva's Speech. 

She ceased: and Lakshman gave assent, 
Won by her gentle argument. 
So Tara's pleading, just and mild, 
His softening heart had reconciled. 
His altered mood Sugriva saw, 
And cast aside the fear and awe 
Like raiment heavy with the rain 
Which on his troubled soul had lain. 
Then quickly to the ground he threw 
His flowery garland, bright of hue, 
Which round his royal neck he wore, 



Canto XXXVI. Sugriva's Speech. 1305 

And, sobered, was himself once more. 

Then turning to the princely man 

In soothing words the king began: 

"My glory, wealth, and royal sway 

To other hands had passed away: 

But Rama to my rescue came, 

And gave me back my power and fame. 

O Lakshman, say, whose grateful heart [368] 

Could nurse the hope to pay in part, 

By service of a life, the deed 

Of Rama sprung of heavenly seed? 

His foeman Ravan shall be slain, 

And Sita shall be his again. 

The hero's side I will not leave, 

But he the conquest shall achieve. 

What need of help has he who drew 

His bow, and one great arrow flew 

Through seven tall trees, a mountain rent, 

And cleft the earth with force unspent? 

What aid needs he who shook his bow, 

And at the sound the earth below 

With hill and wood and rooted rock 

Quaked feverous with the thunder shock? 

Yet all my legions will I bring, 

And follow close the warrior king 

Marching on his impetuous way 

Fierce Ravan and his hosts to slay. 

If I be guilty of offence, 

Careless through love or negligence, 

Let him his loyal slave forgive; 

For error cleaves to all who live." 

Thus king Sugriva, good and brave, 
In humble words his answer gave, 



1306 The Ramayana 

Softened was Lakshman's angry mood 
Who thus his friendly speech renewed: 
"My brother, Vanar King, will see 
A champion and a friend in thee. 
So strong art thou, so brave and bold, 
So pure in thought, so humble-souled, 
That thou deservest well to reign 
And all a monarch's bliss to gain. 
Lend thou my brother aid, and all 
His foes beneath his arm will fall. 
Full well the words thou speakest suit 
A chieftain wise and resolute. 
With grateful heart that loves the right, 
And foot that never yields in fight. 
O come, and my sad brother cheer 
Who mourns the wife he holds so dear. 
O pardon, friend, my harsh address, 
And Rama's frantic bitterness." 



Canto XXXVII. The Gathering. 



He ceased: and King Sugriva cried 
To sage Hanuman 642 by his side: 
"Summon the Vanar legions, those 
Who dwell about the Lord of Snows: 
Those who in Vindhyan groves delight, 
Kailasa's, or Mahendra's height, 
Dwell on the Five bright Peaks, or where 



642 Valmiki and succeeding poets make the second vowel in this name long or 
short at their pleasure. 



Canto XXXVII. The Gathering. 1307 

Mandar's white summit cleaves the air: 
Wherever they are wandring free 
In highlands by the western sea, 
On that east hill whence springs the sun, 
Or where he sinks when day is done. 
Call the great chiefs whose legions fill 
The forests of the Lotus Hill, 643 
Where every one in strength and size 
With the stupendous Anjan 644 vies. 
Call those, with tints of burnished gold 
Whom Mahasaila's caverns hold: 
Those who on Dhumra roam, or hide 
In the wild woods on Meru's side. 
Call those who, brilliant as the sun, 
On high Maharun leap and run, 
Quaffing sweet juices that distil 
From odorous trees upon the hill, 
Call those whom tranquil haunts delight, 
Where dwell the sage and anchorite 
In groves that through their wide extent 
Exhale a thousand blossoms' scent. 
Send out, send out: from coast to coast 
Assemble all the Vanar host: 
With force, with words, with gifts of price 
Compel, admonish and entice. 
Already envoys have been sent 



possible to identify. Sugrfva means to include all the mountains of India from 
Kailas the residence of the God Kuvera, regarded as one of the loftiest peaks 
of the Himalayas, to Mahendra in the extreme south, from the mountain in the 
east where the sun is said to rise to Astachal or the western mountain where he 
sets. The commentators give little assistance: that Mahasaila, &c. are certain 
mountains is about all the information they give. 

644 One of the celestial elephants of the Gods who protect the four quarters and 
intermediate points of the compass. 



1308 The Ramayana 

To warn them of their lord's intent. 
Let others urged by thee repeat 
My mandate that their steps be fleet. 
Those lords who yielding to the sway 
Of love's delight would fain delay, 
Urge hither with the utmost speed, 
Or with thee to my presence lead: 
And those who linger to the last 
Until ten days be come and passed, 
And dare their sovereign to defy, 
For their offence shall surely die. 
Thousands, yea millions, shall there be, 
Obedient to their king's decree, 
The lions of the Vanar race, 
Assembled from each distant place, 
Forth shall they haste like hills in size, 
Or mighty clouds that veil the skies, 
And swiftly speeding on their way 
[369] Bring all our legions in array." 

He ceased: the son of Vayu 645 heard, 
Submissive to his sovereign's word; 
And sent his rapid envoys forth 
To east and west and south and north. 
They bent their airy course afar 
Along the paths of bird and star, 
And sped through ether farther yet 
Where Vishnu's splendid sphere is set. 646 
By sea, on hill, by wood and lake 
They called to arms for Rama's sake, 
As each with terror in his breast 
Obeyed his awful king's behest. 



645 Vayu or the Wind was the father of Hanuman. 

646 The path or station of Vishnu is the space between the seven Rishis or Ursa 
Major, and Dhruva or the polar star. 



Canto XXXVII. The Gathering. 1309 

Three million Vanars, fierce and strong 
As Anjan's self, a wondrous throng 
Sped from the spot where Rama still 
Gazed restless from the woody hill. 
Ten million others, brave and bold, 
With coats that shone like burning gold, 
Came flying from the mountain crest 
Where sinks the weary sun to rest. 
Impetuous from the northern skies, 
Where Mount Kailasa's summits rise, 
Ten hundred millions hasted, hued 
Like manes of lions, ne'er subdued: 
The dwellers on Himalaya's side, 
Whose food his roots and fruit supplied, 
With rangers of the Vindhyan chain 
And neighbours of the Milky Main. 647 
Some from the palm groves where they fed, 
Some from the woods of betel sped: 
In countless numbers, fierce and brave, 
They came from mountain, lake, and cave. 

As on their way the Vanars went 
To rouse each distant armament, 
They chanced that wondrous tree to view 
That on Himalaya's summit grew. 
Of old upon that sacred height 
Was wrought Mahesvar's 648 glorious rite, 
Which every God in heaven beheld, 
And his glad heart with triumph swelled. 
There from pure seed at random sown 
Bright plants with luscious fruit had grown, 



648 The title of Mahesvar or Mighty Lord is sometimes given to Indra, but more 
generally to Siva whom it here denotes. 



1310 The Ramay ana 

And, sweet as Amrit to the taste, 
The summit of the mountain graced. 
Who once should eat the virtuous fruit 
That sprang from so divine a root, 
One whole revolving moon should be 
From every pang of hunger free. 
The Vanars culled the fruit they found 
Ripe on the sacrificial ground 
With rare celestial odours sweet, 
To lay them at Sugriva's feet. 
Those noble envoys scoured the land 
To summon every Vanar band 
Then swiftly homeward at the head 
Of countless armaments they sped. 
They gathered by Kishkindha's wall. 
They thronged Sugriva's palace hall, 
And, richly laden, bare within 
That fruit of heavenly origin. 
Their gifts before their king they spread, 
And thus in tones of triumph said: 



"Through every land our way we took 
To visit hill and wood and brook, 
And all thy hosts from east to west 
Flock hither at their lord's behest." 
Sugriva with delighted look 
The present of his envoys took, 
Then bade them go, with gracious speech 
Rewarding and dismissing each. 



Canto XXXVIII. Sugriva's Departure. 1311 

Canto XXXVIII. Sugriva's Departure. 

Thus all the princely Vanars, true 

To their appointed tasks, withdrew. 

Sugriva deemed already done 

The work he planned for Raghu's son. 

Then Lakshman gently spoke and cheered 

Sugriva for his valour feared: 

"Now, chieftain, if thy will be so, 

Forth from Kishkindha let us go." 

Sugriva's heart swelled high with pride 

As to the prince he thus replied: 

"Come, speed we forth without delay: 

'Tis mine thy mandate to obey." 

Sugriva bade the dames adieu, 

And Tara and the rest withdrew. 

Then at their chieftain's summons came 

The Vanars first in rank and fame, 

A trusty brave and reverent band, 

Meet e'en before a queen to stand. 

They at his call made haste to bring 

The litter of the glorious king. 

"Mount, O my friend." Sugriva cried, 

And straight Sumitra's son complied. 

Then took by Lakshman's side his place 

The sovereign of the woodland race, 

Upraised by Vanars, fleet and strong, 

Who bore the glittering load along. 

On high above his royal head 

A paly canopy was spread, 

And chouries white in many a hand 

The forehead of the monarch fanned, 

And shell and drum and song and shout 

Pealed round him as the king passed out. [370] 



1312 The Ramay ana 

About the monarch went a throng 
Of Vanar warriors brave and strong, 
As onward to the mountain shade 
Where Rama dwelt his way he made. 
Soon as the lovely spot he viewed 
Where Rama lived in solitude, 
The Vanar monarch, far-renowed, 
With Lakshman, lightly stepped to ground, 
And to the son of Raghu went 
Joining his raised hands reverent. 
As their great leader raised his hands, 
So suppliant stood the Vanar bands. 
Well pleased the son of Raghu saw 
Those legions, hushed in reverent awe, 
Stand silent like the tranquil floods 
That raise their hands of lotus buds. 
But Rama, when the king, to greet 
His friend, had bowed him at his feet, 
Raised him who ruled the Vanar race, 
And held him in a close embrace: 
Then, when his arms he had unknit, 
Besought him by his side to sit, 
And thus with gentle words the best 
Of men the Vanar king addressed: 

"The prince who well his days divides, 
And knows aright the times and tides 
To follow duty, joy, or gain, 
He, only he, deserves to reign. 
But he who wealth and virtue leaves, 
And every hour to pleasure cleaves, 
Falls from his bliss like him who wakes 
From slumber on a branch that breaks. 
True king is he who smites his foes, 



Canto XXXVIII. Sugriva's Departure. 1313 

And favour to his servants shows, 
And of that fruit makes timely use 
Which virtue, wealth, and joy produce. 
The hour is come that bids thee rise 
To aid me in my enterprise. 
Then call thy nobles to debate, 
And with their help deliberate." 

"Lost was my power," the king replied, 
"All strength had fled, all hope had died. 
The Vanars owned another lord, 
But by thy grace was all restored. 
All this, O conqueror of the foe, 
To thee and Lakshman's aid I owe. 
And his should be the villain's shame 
Who durst deny the sacred claim. 
These Vanar chiefs of noblest birth 
Have at my bidding roamed the earth, 
And brought from distant regions all 
Our legions at their monarch's call: 
Fierce bears with monkey troops combined, 
And apes of every varied kind, 
Terrific in their forms, who dwell 
In grove and wood and bosky dell: 
The bright Gandharvas' brood, the seed 
Of Gods, 649 they change their shapes at need. 
Each with his legions in array, 
Hither, O Prince, they make their way. 
They come: and tens of millions swell 
To numbers that no tongue may tell. 650 
For thee their armies will unite 



650 The numbers are unmanageable in English verse. The poet speaks of 
hundreds of arbudas; and an arbuda is a hundred millions. 



1314 The Ramayana 

With chiefs, Mahendra's peers in might. 
From Meru and from Vindhya's chain 
They come like clouds that bring the rain. 
These round thee to the war will go, 
To smite to earth thy demon foe; 
Will slay the Rakshas and restore 
Thy consort when the fight is o'er." 



Canto XXXIX. The Vanar Host. 



Then Rama, best of all who guide 
Their steps by duty, thus replied: 
"What marvel if Lord Indra send 
The kindly rain, O faithful friend? 
If, thousand-rayed, the God of Day 
Drive every darksome cloud away? 
Or, rising high, the Lord of Night 
Flood the broad heaven with silver light? 
What marvel, King, that one like thee 
The glory of his friends should be? 
No marvel, O my lord, that thou 
Hast shown thy noble nature now. 
Thy heart, Sugriva, well I know: 
Naught from thy lips but truth may flow, 
With thee for friend and champion all 
My foes beneath my arm will fall. 
The Rakshas, when my queen he stole, 
Brought sure destruction on his soul, 



Canto XXXIX. The Vanar Host. 1315 

Like Anuhlada 651 who beguiled 

Queen Sachi called Puloma's child. 

Yes, near, Sugriva, is the day 

When I my demon foe shall slay, 

As conquering Indra in his ire 

Slew Queen Paulomfs haughty sire." 652 [371] 

He ceased: thick clouds of dust rose high 

To every quarter of the sky: 

The very sun grew faint and pale 

Behind the darkly-gathering veil. 

The mighty clouds that hung o'erhead 

From east to west thick darkness spread, 

And earth to her foundations shook 

With hill and forest, lake and brook. 

Then hidden was the ground beneath 

Fierce warriors armed with fearful teeth, 

Hosts numberless, each lord in size 

A match for him who rules the skies: 

From many a sea and distant hill, 

From rock and river, lake and rill. 

Some like the morning sun were bright, 

Some, like the moon, were silver white: 

These green as lotus fibres, those 

White-coated from their native snows. 653 



651 Anuhlada or Anuhrada is one of the four sons of the mighty Hiranyakasipu, 
an Asur or a Daitya son of Kasyapa and Diti and killed by Vishnu in his 
incarnation of the Man-Lion Narasinha. According to the Bhagavata Purana 
the Daitya or Asur Hiranyakasipu and Hiranyaksha his brother, both killed by 
Vishnu, were born again as Ravan and Kumbhakarna his brother. 

652 Puloma, a demon, was the father-in-law of Indra who destroyed him in 
order to avert an imprecation. Paulomf is a patronymic denoting Sachi the 
daughter of Puloma. 

653 "Observe the variety of colours which the poem attributes to all these 
inhabitants of the different mountainous regions, some white, others yellow, 
&c. Such different colours were perhaps peculiar and distinctive characteristics 
of those various races." GORRESSIOJFNS. 



1316 The Ramay ana 

Then Satabali came in view 
Girt by a countless retinue. 
Like some gold mountain high in air 
Tara's illustrious sire 654 was there. 
There Ruma's father, 655 far-renowned, 
With tens of thousands ranged around. 
There, tinted like the tender green 
Of lotus filaments, was seen, 
Compassed by countless legions, one 
Whose face was as the morning sun, 
Hanuman's father good and great, 
Kesari, 656 wisest in debate. 
There the proud king Gavaksha, feared 
For his strong warrior arm, appeared. 
There Dhumra, mighty lord, the dread 
Of foes, his ursine legions led. 
There Panas, first for warlike fame, 
With twenty million warriors came. 
There glorious Nfla, dark of hue, 
Arrayed his countless troops in view. 
There moved lord Gavaya brave and bold, 
Resplendent like a hill of gold, 
And near him Darimukha stood 
With millions from the hill and wood 
And Dwivid famed for strength and speed, 
And Mamda, both of Asvin seed. 
There Gaja, strong and glorious, led 
The countless troops around him spread, 

654 Sushen. 

655 Tara. 



Canto XXXIX. The Vanar Host. 1317 

And Jambavan 657 the king whose sway 
The bears delighted to obey, 
With swarming myriads onward pressed 
True to his lord Sugriva's hest; 
And princely Ruman, dear to fame, 
Led millions whom no hosts could tame, 
All these and many a chief beside 658 
Came onward fierce in warlike pride. 
They covered all the plain, and still 
Pressed forward over wood and hill. 
In rows for many a league around 
They rested on the grassy ground; 
Or to Sugriva made their way, 
Like clouds about the Lord of Day, 
And to the king their proud heads bent 
In power and might preeminent. 
Sugriva then to Rama sped, 
And raised his reverent hands, and said 
That every chief from coast to coast 
Was present with his warrior host. 



657 "I here unite under one heading two animals of very diverse nature and race, 
but which from some gross resemblances, probably helped by an equivoque 
in the language, are closely affiliated in the Hindoo myth ... a reddish colour 
of the skin, want of symmetry and ungainliness of form, strength in hugging 
with the fore paws or arms, the faculty of climbing, shortness of tail(?), sen- 
suality, capacity of instruction in dancing and in music, are all characteristics 
which more or less distinguish and meet in bears as well as in monkeys. 
In the Rdmdyanam, the wise Jamnavant, the Odysseus of the expedition of 
Lanka, is called now king of the bears (rikshaparthivah), now great monkey 
(Mahdkapih)." DE GUBERNATISJFNS: Zoological Mythology, Vol. II. p. 97. 

658 Gandhamadana, Angad, Tara, Indrajanu, Rambha, Durmukha, Hanuman, 
Nala, Da mukha, Sarabha, Kumuda, Vahni. 



1318 The Ramay ana 

Canto XL. The Army Of The East. 



With practised eye the king reviewed 
The Vanars' countless multitude, 
And, joying that his hest was done, 
Thus spake to Raghu's mighty son: 
"See, all the Vanar hosts who fear 
My sovereign might are gathered here. 
Chiefs strong as Indra's self, who speed 
Wher'er they list, these armies lead. 
Fierce and terrific to the view 
[372] As Daityas or the Danav 659 crew, 

Famed in all lands for souls afire 
With lofty thoughts, they never tire, 
O'er hill and vale they wander free, 
And islets of the distant sea. 
And these gathered myriads, all 
Will serve thee, Rama, at thy call. 
Whate'er thy heart advises, say: 
Thy mandates will the host obey." 

Then answered Rama, as he pressed 
The Vanar monarch to his breast: 
"O search for my lost Sita, strive 
To find her if she still survive: 
And in thy wondrous wisdom trace 
Fierce Ravan to his dwelling-place. 
And when by toil and search we know 
Where Sita lies and where the foe, 
With thee, dear friend, will I devise 
Fit means to end the enterprise. 



659 Daityas and Danavas are fiends and enemies of the Gods, like the Titans of 
Greek mythology. 



Canto XL. The Army Of The East. 1319 

Not mine, not Lakshman's is the power 
To guide us in the doubtful hour. 
Thou, sovereign of the Vanars, thou 
Must be our hope and leader now." 



He ceased: at King Sugriva's call 
Near came a Vanar strong and tall. 
Huge as a towering mountain, loud 
As some tremendous thunder cloud, 
A prince who warlike legions led: 
To him his sovereign turned and said: 
"Go, take ten thousand 660 of our race 
Well trained in lore of time and place, 
And search the eastern region; through 
Groves, woods, and hills thy way pursue. 
There seek for Sita, trace the spot 
Where Ravan hides, and weary not. 
Search for the captive in the caves 
Of mountains, and by woods and waves. 
To Sarjii, 661 Kausiki, 662 repair, 
Bhagirath's daughter 663 fresh and fair. 
Search mighty Yamun's 664 peak, explore 
Swift Yamuna's 665 delightful shore, 



660 I reduce the unwieldy numbers of the original to more modest figures. 

661 Sarayu now Sarjii is the river on which Ayodhya was built. 

662 Kausiki is a river which flows through Behar, commonly called Kosi. 

663 Bhagirath's daughter is Ganga or the Ganges. The legend is told at length 
in Book I Canto XLIV. The Descent ofGangd. 

A mountain not identified. 
665 The Jumna. The river is personified as the twin sister of Yama, and hence 
regarded as the daughter of the Sun. 



1320 The Ramayana 

Sarasvati 666 and Sindhu's 667 tide, 
And rapid Sona's 668 pebbly side. 
Then roam afar by Mahi's bed 
Where Kalamahfs groves are spread. 
Go where the silken tissue shines, 
Go to the land of silver mines. 670 
Visit each isle and mountain steep 
And city circled by the deep, 
And distant villages that high 
About the peaks of Mandar lie. 
Speed over Yavadwipa's land, 671 
And see Mount Sisir 672 proudly stand 
Uplifting to the skies his head 
By Gods and Danavs visited. 
Search each ravine and mountain pass, 
Each tangled thicket deep in grass. 
Search every cave with utmost care 
If haply Rama's queen be there. 
Then pass beyond the sounding sea 
Where heavenly beings wander free, 



666 The Sarasvati (corruptly called Sursooty, is supposed to join the Ganges 
and Jumna at Prayag or Allahabad. It rises in the mountains bounding the 
north-east part of the province of Delhi, and running in a south-westerly 
direction becomes lost in the sands of the great desert. 

667 The Sindhu is the Indus, the Sanskrit s becoming h in Persian and being in 
this instance dropped by the Greeks. 

668 The Sone which rises in the district of Nagpore and falls into the Ganges 
above Patna. 

669 Mahf is a river rising in Malwa and falling into the gulf of Cambay after a 
westerly course of 280 miles. 

670 There is nothing to show what parts of the country the poet intended to 
denote as silk-producing and silver-producing. 

671 Yavadwipa means the island of Yava, wherever that may be. 

672 Sisir is said to be a mountain ridge projecting from the base of Meru on the 
south. Wilson's Vishnu Purdna, ed. Hall, Vol. II. p. 117. 



Canto XL. The Army Of The East. 1321 

And Sona's 673 waters swift and strong 

With ruddy billows foam along. 

Search where his shelving banks descend, 

Search where the hanging woods extend. 

Try if the pathless thickets screen 

The robber and the captive queen. 

Search where the torrent floods that rend 

The mountain to the plains descend: 

Search dark abysses where they rave, 

Search mountain slope and wood and cave 

Then on with rapid feet and gain 

The inlands of the fearful main 

Where, tortured by the tempest's lash, 

Against rude rocks the billows dash: 

An ocean like a sable cloud, 

Whose margent monstrous serpents crowd: [373] 

An ocean rising with a roar 

To beat upon an iron shore. 

On, onward still ! your feet shall tread 

Shores of the sea whose waves are red, 

Where spreading wide your eyes shall see 

The guilt-tormenting cotton tree 674 

And the wild spot where Garud 675 dwells 

Which gems adorn and ocean shells, 

High as Kailasa, nobly decked, 

Wrought by the heavenly architect. 676 



673 This appears to be some mythical stream and not the well-known Sone. The 
name means red-coloured. 

674 A fabulous thorny rod of the cotton tree used for torturing the wicked in 
hell. The tree gives its name, Salmalf, to one of the seven Dwfpas, or great 
divisions of the known continent: and also to a hell where the wicked are 
tormented with the pickles of the tree. 

675 The king of the feathered creation. 



1322 The Ramayana 

Huge giants named Mandehas 677 there 

In each foul shape they love to wear, 

Numbing the soul with terror's chill, 

Hang from the summit of the hill. 

When darts the sun his earliest beam 

They plunge them in the ocean stream, 

New vigour from his rays obtain, 

And hang upon the rocks again. 

Speed onward still: your steps shall be 

At length beside the Milky Sea 

Whose every ripple as it curls 

Gleams glorious with its wealth of pearls. 

Amid that sea like pale clouds spread 

The white Mount Rishabh 678 rears his head. 

About the mountain's glorious waist 

Woods redolent of bloom are braced. 

A lake where lotuses unfold 

Their silver buds with threads of gold, 

Sudarsan ever bright and fair 

Where white swans sport, lies gleaming there, 

The wandering Kinnar's 679 dear resort, 

Where heavenly nymphs and Yakshas 680 sport. 

On! leave the Milky Sea behind: 

Another flood your search shall find, 

A waste of waters, wild and drear, 

That chills each living heart with fear. 

There see the horse's awful head, 



6w "jjj e terrific fiends named Mandehas attempt to devour the sun: for Brahma 
denounced this curse upon them, that without the power to perish they should 
die every day (and revive by night) and therefore a fierce contest occurs (daily) 
between them and the sun." WILSON'SJFNS Vishnu Purana. Vol. II. p. 250. 

678 Said in the Vishnu Purana to be a ridge projecting from the base of Meru 
to the north. 

679 Kinnars are centaurs reversed, beings with equine head and human bodies. 

680 Yakshas are demi-gods attendant on Kuvera the God of wealth. 



Canto XL. The Army Of The East. 1323 

Wrath-born, that flames in Ocean's bed. 681 

There rises up a fearful cry 

From the sea things that move thereby, 

When, helpless, powerless for flight, 

They gaze upon the horrid sight. 

Past to the northern shore, and then 

Beyond the flood three leagues and ten 

Your wondering glances will behold 

Mount Jatarupa 682 bright with gold. 

There like the young moon pale of hue 

The monstrous serpent 683 will ye view, 

The earth's supporter, whose bright eyes 

Resemble lotus leaves in size. 

He rests upon the mountain's brow, 

And all the Gods before him bow. 

Ananta with a thousand heads 

His length in robes of azure spreads. 

A triple-headed palm of gold — 

Meet standard for the lofty-souled — 

Springs towering from the mountain's crest 

Beneath whose shade he loves to rest, 

So that in eastern realms each God 

May use it as a measuring-rod. 

Beyond, with burning gold aglow, 

The eastern steep his peaks will show, 

Which in unrivalled glory rise 

A hundred leagues to pierce the skies, 



681 Aurva was one of the descendants of Bhrigu. From his wrath proceeded a 
flame that threatened to destroy the world, had not Aurva cast it into the ocean 
where it remained concealed, and having the face of a horse. The legend is told 
in the Mahdbhdrat. I. 6802. 

682 The word Jatarupa means gold. 

683 The celebrated mythological serpent king Sesha, called also Ananta or the 
infinite, represented as bearing the earth on one of his thousand heads. 



1324 The Ramayana 

And all the neighbouring air is bright 
With golden trees that clothe the height. 
A lofty peak uprises there 
Ten leagues in height and one league square 
Saumanas, wrought of glistering gold, 
Ne'er to be loosened from its hold. 
There his first step Lord Vishnu placed 
When through the universe he paced, 
And with his second lightly pressed 
The loftiest peak of Meru's crest. 
[374] When north of Jambudwip the sun 

A portion of his course has run, 
And hangs above this mountain height, 
Then creatures see the genial light. 
Vaikhanases, 685 saints far renowned, 
And Balakhilyas 686 love the ground 
Where in their glory half divine, 
Touched by the morning glow, they shine 
The light that flashes from that steep 
Illumines all Sudarsandwip, 687 
And on each creature, as it glows, 
The sight and strength of life bestows. 
Search well that mountain's woody side 
If Ravan there his captive hide. 
The rising sun, the golden hill 



684 Jambudwipa is in the centre of the seven great dwipas or continents into 
which the world is divided, and in the centre of Jambudwipa is the golden 
mountain Meru 84,000 yojans high, and crowned by the great city of Brahma. 
See WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnu Parana, Vol. II. p. 110. 

685 Vaikhanases are a race of hermit saints said to have sprung from the nails 
of Prajapati. 

686 "jjjg w jf e f Kratu, Samnati, brought forth the sixty thousand Valakhilyas, 
pigmy sages, no bigger than a joint of the thumb, chaste, pious, resplendent as 
the rays of the Sun." WILSON'SJFNS Vishnu Purdna. 

687 The continent in which Sudarsan or Meru stands, i.e. Jambudwip. 



Canto XL. The Army Of The East. 1325 

The air with growing splendours fill, 
Till flashes from the east the red 
Of morning with the light they shed. 
This, where the sun begins his state, 
Is earth and heaven's most eastern gate. 
Through all the mountain forest seek 
By waterfall and cave and peak. 
Search every nook and bosky dell, 
If Ravan there with Sita dwell. 
There, Vanars, there your steps must stay: 
No farther eastward can ye stray. 
Beyond no sun, no moon gives light, 
But all is sunk in endless night. 
Thus far, O Vanar lords, may you 
O'er sea and land your search pursue. 
But wild and dark and known to none 
Is the drear space beyond the sun. 
That mountain whence the sun ascends 
Your long and weary journey ends. 688 
Now go, and in a month return, 
And let success my praises earn. 
He who beyond tho month shall stay 
Will with his life the forfeit pay." 



688 The names of some historical peoples which occur in this Canto and in 
the Cantos describing the south and north will be found in the ADDITIONAL 
NOTES{FNS. They are bare lists, not susceptible of a metrical version. 



1326 The Ramayana 

Canto XLI. The Army Of The South. 

He gathered next a chosen band 

For service in the southern land. 

He summoned Nila son of Fire, 

And, offspring of the eternal Sire, 

Jambavan bold and strong and tall, 

And Hanuman, the best of all, 

And many a valiant lord beside, 689 

With Angad for their chief and guide. 

"Go forth," he cried, "with all this host 

Exploring to the southern coast: 

The thousand peaks that Vindhya shows 

Where every tree and creeper grows: 

Where Narmada's 690 sweet waters run, 

And serpents bask them in the sun: 

Where Krishnaveni's 691 currents flee, 

And sparkles fair Godavari. 692 

Through Mekhal 693 pass and Utkal's 694 land: 

Go where Dasarna's 695 cities stand. 

Avanti 696 seek, of high renown, 



689 Suhotra, Sarari, Saragulma, Gaya, Gavaksha, Gavaya, Sushena, Gandhama- 
dana, Ulkamukha, and Ananga. 

690 The modern Nerbudda. 

691 Krishnaveni is mentioned in the Vishnu Purdna as "the deep Krishnavenf" 
but there appears to be no clue to its identification. 

692 The modern Godavery. 

693 The Mekhalas or Mekalas according to the Paranas live in the Vindhya 
hills, but here they appear among the peoples of the south. 

694 Utkal is still the native name of Orissa. 

695 The land of the people of the "ten forts." Professor Hall in a note on 
WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnu Purdna, Vol. II. p. 160 says: "The oral traditions of 
the vicinity to this day assign the name of Dasarna to a region lying to the east 
of the District of Chundeyree." 

696 Avanti is one of the ancient names of the celebrated Ujjayin or Oujein in 
Central India. 



Canto XLI. The Army Of The South. 1327 

And Abravanti's 697 glorious town. 

Search every hill and brook and cave 

Where Dandaks woods their branches wave 

Ayomukh's 698 woody hill explore 

Whose sides are bright with richest ore, 

Lifting his glorious head on high 

From bloomy groves that round him lie. [375] 

Search well his forests where the breeze 

Blows fragrant from the sandal trees. 

Then will you see Kaverfs 699 stream 

Whose pleasant waters glance and gleam, 

And to the lovely banks entice 

The sportive maids of Paradise. 

High on the top of Malaya's 700 hill, 

In holy musing, calm and still, 

Sits, radiant as the Lord of Light, 

Agastya, 701 noblest anchorite. 

Soon as that lofty-thoughted lord 

His high permission shall accord, 

Pass Tamraparni's 702 flood whose isles 

Are loved by basking crocodiles. 

The sandal woods that fringe her side 

Those islets and her waters hide; 

While, like an amorous matron, she 

Speeds to her own dear lord the sea. 

Thence hasting on your way behold 



Ayomukh means iron faced. The mountain is not identified. 

699 The Kaverf or modern Cauvery is well known and has always borne the 
same appellation, being the Chaberis of Ptolemy. 

700 One of the seven principal mountain chains: the southern portion of the 
Western Ghats. 

701 Agastya is the great sage who has already frequently appeared as Rama's 
friend and benefactor. 

702 Tamraparnf is a river rising in Malaya. 



1328 The Ramayana 

The Pandyas' 703 gates of pearl and gold. 
Then, with your task maturely planned, 
On ocean's shore your feet will stand. 
Where, by Agastya's high decree, 
Mahendra, 704 planted in the sea, 
With tinted peaks against the tide 
Rises in solitary pride, 
And glorious in his golden glow 
Spurns back the waves that beat below. 
Fair mountain, bright with creepers' bloom 
And every tint that trees assume, 
Where Yaksha, God, and heavenly maid 
Meet wandering in the lovely shade, 
At changing moon and solemn tide 
By Indra's presence glorified. 
One hundred leagues in fair extent 
An island 705 fronts the continent: 
No man may tread its glittering shore, 
With utmost heed that isle explore, 
For the fair country owns the sway 
Of Ravan whom we burn to slay. 
A mighty monster stands to keep 
The passage of the southern deep. 
Lifting her awful arms on high 
She grasps e'en shadows as they fly. 
Speed through that isle, and onward still 
Where in mid sea the Flowery Hill 706 
Raises on high his bloomy head 



' The Pandyas are a people of the Deccan. 
Mahendra is the chain of hills that extei 
Sircars to Gondwana, part of which near Ganjam is still called Mahendra Malay 
or hills of Mahendra. 

705 Lanka, Sinhaladvfpa, Sarandib, or Ceylon. 

706 The Flowery Hill of course is mythical. 



Canto XLI. The Army Of The South. 1329 

By saints and angels visited. 
There, with a hundred gleaming peaks 
Bright as the sun, the sky he seeks, 
One glorious peak the Lord of Day 
Gilds ever with his loving ray; 
Thereon ne'er yet the glances fell 
Of thankless wretch or infidel. 
Bow to that hill in reverence due, 
And then once more your search pursue. 
Beyond that glorious mountain hie, 
And Suryavan, 707 proud hill is nigh. 
Your rapid course yet farther bend 
Where Vaidyut's 708 airy peaks ascend. 
There trees of noblest sort, profuse 
Of wealth, their kindly gifts produce. 
Their precious fruits, O Vanars, taste, 
The honey sip, and onward haste. 
Next will ye see Mount Kunjar rise, 
Who cheers with beauty hearts and eyes. 
There is Agastya's 709 mansion, decked 
By heaven's all moulding architect. 
Near Bhogavati 710 stands, the place 
Where dwell the hosts of serpent race: 
A broad-wayed city, walled and barred, 
Which watchful legions keep and guard, 
The fiercest of the serpent youth, 
Each awful for his venomed tooth: 



707 The whole of the geography south of Lanka is of course mythical. Suryavan 
means Sunny. 

708 Vaidyut means connected with lightning. 

709 Agastya is here placed far to the south of Lanka. Earlier in this Canto he 
was said to dwell on Malaya. 

710 Bhogavati has been frequently mentioned: it is the capital of the serpent 
Gods or demons, and usually represented as being in the regions under the 
earth. 



1330 The Ramayana 

And throned in his imperial hall 
Is Vasuki 711 who rules them all. 
Explore the serpent city well, 
Search town and tower and citadel, 
And scan each field and wood that lies 
Around it, with your watchful eyes. 
Beyond that spot your way pursue: 
A noble mountain shall ye view, 
Named Rishabh, like a mighty bull, 
[376] With gems made bright and beautiful. 

All trees of sandal flourish there 
Of heavenly fragrance, rich and rare. 
But, though they tempt your longing eyes, 
Avoid to touch them, and be wise. 
For Rohitas, a guardian band 
Of fierce Gandharvas, round them stand, 
Who five bright sovereign lords 712 obey, 
In glory like the God of Day. 
Here by good deeds a home is won 
With shapes like fire, the moon, the sun. 
Here they who merit heaven by worth 
Dwell on the confines of the earth. 
There stay: beyond it, dark and drear, 
Lies the departed spirits' sphere, 
And, girt with darkness, far from bliss, 
Is Yama's sad metropolis. 713 
So far, my lords, o'er land and sea 
Your destined course is plain and free. 
Beyond your steps you may not set, 



711 Vasuki is according to some accounts the king of the Nagas or serpent 
Gods. 

712 Sailiisha, Gramini, Siksha, Suka, Babhru. 

713 The distant south beyond the confines of the earth is the home of departed 
spirits and the city of Yama the God of Death. 



Canto XLII. The Army Of The West. 1331 

Where living thing ne'er journeyed yet. 
With utmost care these realms survey, 
And all you meet upon the way. 
And, when the lady's course is traced, 
Back to your king, O Vanars, haste. 
And he who tells me he has seen. 
After long search, the Maithil queen, 
Shall gain a noble guerdon: he 
In power and bliss shall equal me. 
Dear as my very life, above 
His fellows in his master's love; 
I call him, yea though stained with crime. 
My kinsman from that happy time." 



Canto XLII. The Army Of The West. 



Then to Sushen Sugriva bent, 
And thus addressed him reverent: 
"Two hundred thousand of our best 
With thee, my lord, shall seek the west. 
Explore Surashtra's 714 ] distant plain, 
Explore Vahlfka's 715 wild domain, 
And all the pleasant brooks that flee 
Through mountains to the western sea. 
Search clustering groves on mountain heights, 
And woods the home of anchorites. 
Search where the breezy hills are high, 
Search where the desert regions lie. 



714 Surashtra, the "good country," is the modern Sura 

715 A country north-west of Afghanistan, Bafkh. 



1332 The Ramayana 

Search all the western land beset 
With woody mountains like a net. 
The country's farthest limit reach, 
And stand upon the ocean beach. 
There wander through the groves of palm 
Where the soft air is full of balm. 
Through grassy dell and dark ravine 
Seek Ravan and the Maithil queen. 
Go visit Somagiri's 716 steep 
Where Sindhu 717 mingles with the deep. 
There lions, borne on swift wings, roam 
The levels of their mountain home, 
And elephants and monsters bear, 
Caught from the ocean, to their lair. 
You Vanars, changing forms at will, 
With rapid search must scour the hill, 
And his sky-kissing peak of gold 
Where loveliest trees their blooms unfold. 
There golden-peaked, ablaze with light, 
Uprises Pariyatra's 718 height 
Where wild Gandharvas, fierce and fell, 
In bands of countless myriads dwell. 
Pluck ye no fruit within the wood; 
Beware the impious neighbourhood, 
Where, very mighty, strong, and hard 
To overcome, the fruit they guard. 
Yet search for Janak's daughter still, 
For Vanars there need fear no ill. 
Near, bright as turkis, Vajra 719 named, 



716 The Moon-mountain here is mythical. 



718 Pariyatra, or as more usually written Paripatra, is the central or western 
portion of the Vindhya chain which skirts the province of Malwa. 

719 Vajra means both diamond and thunderbolt, the two substances being 



Canto XLII. The Army Of The West. 1333 

There stands a hill of diamond framed. 

Soaring a hundred leagues in pride, 

With trees and creepers glorified. 

Search there each cave and dark abyss 

By waterfall and precipice. 

Far in that sea the wild waves beat 

On Chakravan's 720 firm-rooted feet. 

Where the great discus, 721 thousand rayed, 

By Visvakarma's 722 art was made. 

When Panchajan 723 the fiend was slain. 

And Hayagriva, 724 fierce in vain, [377] 

Thence taking shell and discus went 

Lord Vishnu, God preeminent. 

On! sixty thousand hills of gold 

With wondering eyes shall ye behold, 

Where in his glory every one 

Is brilliant as the morning sun. 

Full in the midst King Meru, 725 best 

Of mountains, lifts his lofty crest, 



supposed to be identical. 
' Chakravan means the 

721 The discus is the favourite weapon of Vishnu. 

722 The Indian Hephaistos or Vulcan. 

723 Panchajan was a demon who lived in the sea in the form of a conch shell. 
WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnu Parana, V. 21. 

724 Hayagriva, Horse-necked, is the name of a Daitya who at the dissolution 
of the universe caused by Brahma's sleep, seized and carried off the Vedas. 
Vishnu slew him and recovered the sacred treasures. 

725 Meru stands in the centre of Jambudwipa and consequently of the earth. 
"The sun travels round the world, keeping Meru always on his right. To the 
spectator who fronts him, therefore, as he rises Meru must be always on the 
north; and as the sun's rays do not penetrate beyond the centre of the mountain, 
the regions beyond, or to the north of it must be in darkness, whilst those on 
the south of it must be in light: north and south being relative, not absolute, 
terms, depending on the position of the spectator with regard to the Sun and 
Meru." WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnu Purdna, Vol. II. p. 243. Note. 



1334 The Ramayana 

On whom of yore, as all have heard, 
The sun well-pleased this boon conferred: 
"On thee, O King, on thee and thine 
Light, day and night, shall ever shine. 
Gandharvas, Gods who love thee well 
And on thy sacred summits dwell, 
Undimmed in lustre, bright and fair, 
The golden sheen shall ever share." 
The Visvas, Vasus, 727 they who ride 
The tempest, 728 every God beside, 
Draw nigh to Meru's lofty crest 
When evening darkens in the west, 
And to the parting Lord of Day 
The homage of their worship pay, 
Ere yet a while, unseen of all, 
Behind Mount Asta's 729 peaks he fall. 
Wrought by the heavenly artist's care 
A glorious palace glitters there, 
And round about it sweet birds sing 
Where the gay trees are blossoming: 
The home of Varun 730 high-souled lord, 
Wrist-girded with his deadly cord. 731 
With ten tall stems, a palm between 



726 The Visvadevas are a class of deities to whom sacrifices should be daily 
offered, as part of the ordinary worship of the householder. According to the 
Vdyu Purdna, this is a privilege conferred on them by Brahma and the Pitris as 
a reward for religious austerities practised by them upon Himalaya. 

27 The eight Vasus were originally personifications like other Vedic deities, 
of natural phenomena, such as Fire, Wind, &c. Their appellations are variously 
given by different authorities. 

28 The Maruts or Storm-Gods, frequently addressed and worshipped as the 
attendants and allies of Indra. 

729 The mountain behind which the sun sets. 

730 One of the oldest and mightiest of the Vedic deities; in later mythology 
regarded as the God of the sea. 

731 The knotted noose with which he seizes and punishes transgressors. 



Canto XLII. The Army Of The West. 1335 

Meru and Asta's hill is seen: 
Pure silver from the base it springs, 
And far and wide its lustre flings. 
Seek Ravan and the dame by brook, 
In pathless glen, in leafy nook 
On Meru's crest a hermit lives 
Bright with the light that penance gives: 
Savarni 732 is he named, renowned 
As Brahma's peer, with glory crowned. 
There bowing down in reverence speak 
And ask him of the dame you seek. 
Thus far the splendid Lord of Day 
Pursues through heaven his ceaseless way, 
Shedding on every spot his light; 
Then sinks behind Mount Asta's height, 
Thus far advance: the sunless sea 
Beyond is all unknown to me. 
Sushen of mighty arm, long tried 
In peril, shall your legions guide. 
Receive his words with high respect, 
And ne'er his lightest wish neglect. 
He is my consort's sire, and hence 
Deserves the utmost reverence." 



732 Savarni is a Manu, offspring of the Sun by Chhaya. 



1336 The Ramayana 

Canto XLIII. The Army Of The North. 

Forth went the legions of the west: 
And wise Sugriva addressed 
Satabal, summoned from the crowd. 
To whom the sovereign cried aloud: 
"Go forth, O Vanar chief, go forth, 
Explore the regions of the north. 
Thy host a hundred thousand be, 
And Yama's sons 733 attend on thee. 
With dauntless courage, strength, and skill 
Search every river, wood, and hill. 
Through every land in order go 
Right onward to the Hills of Snow. 
Search mid the peaks that shine afar, 
In woods of Lodh and Deodar. 734 
Search if with Janak's daughter, screened 
[378] By sheltering rocks, there lie the fiend. 

The holy grounds of Soma tread 
By Gods and minstrels visited. 
Reach Kala's mount, and flats that lie 
Among the peaks that tower on high. 
Then leave that hill that gleams with ore, 
And fair Sudarsan's heights explore. 
Then on to Devasakha 735 hie, 
Loved by the children of the sky. 
A dreary land you then will see 
Without a hill or brook or tree, 
A hundred leagues, bare, wild, and dread 



733 The poet has not said who the sons of Yama are. 

734 The Lodhra or Lodh (Symplocos Racemosa) and the Devadaru or Deodar 
are well known trees. 

735 The hills mentioned are not identifiable. Soma means the Moon. Kala, 
black; Sudarasan, fair to see; and Devasakha friend of the Gods. 



Canto XLIII. The Army Of The North. 1337 

In lifeless desolation, spread. 

Pursue your onward way, and haste 

Through the dire horrors of the waste 

Until triumphant with delight 

You reach Kailasa's glittering height. 

There stands a palace decked with gold, 

For King Kuvera 736 wrought of old, 

A home the heavenly artist planned 

And fashioned with his cunning hand. 

There lotuses adorn the flood 

With full-blown flower and opening bud 

Where swans and mallards float, and gay 

Apsarases 737 come down to play. 

There King Vaisravan's 738 self, the lord 

By all the universe adored, 

Who golden gifts to mortals sends, 

Lives with the Guhyakas 739 his friends. 

Search every cavern in the steep, 

And green glens where the moonbeams sleep, 

If haply in that distant ground 

The robber and the dame be found. 

Then on to Krauncha's hill, 740 and through 

His fearful pass your way pursue: 

Though dark and terrible the vale 

Your wonted courage must not fail. 

There through abyss and cavern seek, 

On lofty ridge, and mountain peak, 



737 The nymphs of Paradise. 



738 Kuvera the son of Visravas. 

39 A class of demigods who, like the Yakshas, are the attendants of Kuvera, 
and the guardians of his treasures. 

740 Situated in the eastern part of the Himalaya chain, on the north of Assam. 
The mountain was torn asunder and the pass formed by the War-God Kartikeya 
and Parasurama. 



1338 The Ramayana 

On, on! pursue your journey still 
By valley, lake, and towering hill. 
Reach the North Kurus' land, where rest 
The holy spirits of the blest: 
Where golden buds of lilies gleam 
Resplendent on the silver stream, 
And leaves of azure turkis throw 
Soft splendour on the waves below. 
Bright as the sun at early morn 
Fair pools that happy clime adorn, 
Where shine the loveliest flowers on stems 
Of crystal and all valued gems. 
Blue lotuses through all the land 
The glories of their blooms expand, 
And the resplendent earth is strown 
With peerless pearl and precious stone. 
There stately trees can scarce uphold 
The burthen of their fruits of gold, 
And ever flaunt their gay attire 
Of flower and leaf like flames of fire. 
All there sweet lives untroubled spend 
In bliss and joy that know not end, 
While pearl-decked maidens laugh, or sing 
To music of the silvery string. 741 . 

Still on your forward journey keep, 

And rest you by the northern deep, 

Where springing from the billows high 



741 "The Uttara Kurus, it should be remarked, may have been a real people, 
as they are mentioned in the Aitareya Brahmana, VIII. 14.... Wherefore the 
several nations who dwell in this northern quarter, beyond the Himavat, the 
Uttara Kurus and the Uttara Madras are consecrated to glorious dominion, and 
people term them the glorious. In another passage of the same work, howev- 
er, the Uttara Kurus are treated as belonging to the domain of mythology." 
MUIR'S{FNS Sanskrit Texts. Vol. I. p. 494. See ADDITIONAL NOTES{FNS 



Canto XLIV. The Ring. 1339 

Mount Somagiri 742 seeks the sky, 
And lightens with perpetual glow 
The sunless realm that lies below. 
There, present through all life's extent, 
Dwells Brahma Lord preeminent, 
And round the great God, manifest 
In Rudra 743 forms high sages rest. 
Then turn, O Vanars: search no more, 
Nor tempt the sunless, boundless shore." 



Canto XLIV. The Ring. 



But special counselling he gave 

To Hanuman the wise and brave: [379] 

To him on whom his soul relied, 

With friendly words the monarch cried: 

"O best of Vanars, naught can stay 

By land or sea thy rapid way, 

Who through the air thy flight canst bend, 

And to the Immortals' home ascend. 

All realms, I ween, are known to thee 

With every mountain, lake, and sea. 

In strength and speed which naught can tire 

Thou, worthy rival of thy sire 

The mighty monarch of the wind, 

Where'er thou wilt a way canst find. 



742 The Moon-mountain. 

743 The Rudras are the same as the storm winds, more usually called Maruts, 
and are often associated with Indra. In the later mythology the Rudras are 
regarded as inferior manifestations of Siva, and most of their names are also 
names of Siva. 



1340 The Ramayana 

Exert thy power, O swift and strong, 
Bring back the lady lost so long, 
For time and place, O thou most wise, 
Lie open to thy searching eyes." 



When Rama heard that special hest 
To Hanuman above the rest, 
He from the monarch's favour drew 
Hope of success and trust anew 
That he on whom his lord relied, 
In toil and peril trained and tried, 
Would to a happy issue bring 
The task commanded by the king. 
He gave the ring that bore his name, 
A token for the captive dame, 
That the sad lady in her woe 
The missive of her lord might know. 
"This ring," he said, "my wife will see, 
Nor fear an envoy sent by me. 
Thy valour and thy skill combined, 
Thy resolute and vigorous mind, 
And King Sugriva's high behest, 
With joyful hopes inspire my breast." 



Canto XLV. The Departure. 



Canto XLV. The Departure. 1341 

Away, away the Vanars sped 
Like locusts o'er the land outspread. 
To northern realms where rising high 
The King of Mountains cleaves the sky, 
Fierce Satabal with vast array 
Of Vanar warriors led the way. 
Far southward, as his lord decreed, 
Wise Hanuman, the Wind-God's seed, 
With Angad his swift way pursued, 
And Tara's warlike multitude, 
Strong Vinata with all his band 
Betook him to the eastern land, 
And brave Sushen in eager quest 
Sped swiftly to the gloomy west. 
Each Vanar chieftain sought with speed 
The quarter by his king decreed, 
While from his legions rose on high 
The shout and boast and battle cry: 
"We will restore the dame and beat 
The robber down beneath our feet. 
My arm alone shall win the day 
From Ravan met in single fray, 
Shall rob the robber of his life, 
And rescue Rama's captive wife 
All trembling in her fear and woe. 
Here, comrades, rest: no farther go: 
For I will vanquish hell, and she 
Shall by this arm again be free. 
The rooted mountains will I rend, 
The mightiest trees will break and bend, 
Earth to her deep foundations cleave, 
And make the calm sea throb and heave. 
A hundred leagues from steep to steep 
In desperate bound my feet shall leap. 



1342 The Ramayana 

My steps shall tread unchecked and free, 
Through woods, o'er land and hill and sea, 
Range as they list from flood to fell, 
And wander through the depths of hell." 



Canto XLVI. Sugriva's Tale. 



"How, King," cried Rama, "didst thou gain 

Thy lore of sea and hill and plain?" 

"I told thee how," Sugriva said, 

"From Bali's arm Mayavi fled 744 

To Malaya's hill, and strove to save 

His life by hiding in the cave. 

I told how Bali sought, to kill 

His foe, the hollow of the hill; 

Nor need I, King, again unfold 

The wondrous tale already told. 

Then, wandering forth, my way I took 

By many a town and wood and brook. 

I roamed the earth from place to place, 

Till, like a mirror's polished face, 

The whole broad disk, that lies between 

Its farthest bounds, mine eyes had seen. 

I wandered first to eastern skies 

Where fairest trees rejoiced mine eyes, 

And many a cave and wooded hill 

Where lilies robed the lake and rill. 

There metal dyes that hill 745 adorn 



745 Udayagiri or the hill from which the sun rises. 



Canto XLVI. Sugriva's Tale. 1343 

Whence springs the sun to light the morn. 

There, too, I viewed the Milky sea, 

Where nymphs of heaven delight to be. 

Then to the south I made my way 

From regions of the rising day, 

And roamed o'er Vindhya, where the breeze 

Is odorous of sandal trees. 

Still in my fear I found no rest: 

I sought the regions of the west, 

And gazed on Asta, 746 where the sun [380] 

Sinks when his daily course is run. 

Then from that noblest hill I fled 

And to the northern country sped, 

Saw Himavan, 747 and Meru's steep, 

And stood beside the northern deep. 

But when, by Bali's might oppressed, 

E'en in those wilds I could not rest, 

Came Hanuman the wise and brave, 

And thus his prudent counsel gave: 

'"I told thee how Matanga 748 cursed 

Thy tyrant, that his head should burst 

In pieces, should he dare invade 

The precincts of that tranquil shade. 

There may we dwell in peace and be 

From thy oppressor's malice free." 

We went to Rishyamuka's hill, 

And spent our days secure from ill 

Where, with that curse upon his head, 

The cruel Bali durst not tread." 



747 Himalaya, the Hills of Snow. 



1344 The Ramayana 

Canto XLVII. The Return. 

Thus forth in quest of Sita went 

The legions King Sugriva sent. 

To many a distant town they hied 

By many a lake and river's side. 

As their great sovereign's order taught, 

Through valleys, plains, and groves they sought. 

They toiled unresting through the day: 

At night upon the ground they lay 

Where the tall trees, whose branches swayed 

Beneath their fruit, gave pleasant shade. 

Then, when a weary month was spent, 

Back to Prasravan's hill they went, 

And stood with faces of despair 

Before their king Sugriva there. 

Thus, having wandered through the east, 

Great Vinata his labours ceased, 

And weary of the fruitless pain 

Returned to meet the king again, 

Brave Satabali to the north 

Had led his Vanar legions forth. 

Now to Sugriva he sped 

With all his host dispirited. 

Sushen the western realms had sought, 

And homeward now his legions brought. 

All to Sugriva came, where still 

He sat with Rama on the hill. 

Before their sovereign humbly bent 

And thus addressed him reverent: 

"On every hill our steps have been, 

By wood and cave and deep ravine; 

And all the wandering brooks we know 

Throughout the land that seaward flow, 



Canto XLVIII. The Asur's Death. 1345 

Our feet by thy command have traced 
The tangled thicket and the waste, 
And dens and dingles hard to pass 
for creeping plants and matted grass. 
Well have we searched with toil and pain, 
And monstrous creatures have we slain 
But Hanuman of noblest mind 
The Maithil lady yet will find; 
For to his quarter of the sky 749 
The robber fiend was seen to fly." 



Canto XLVIII. The Asur's Death. 



But Hanuman still onward pressed 

With Tara, Angad, and the rest, 

Through Vindhya's pathless glens he sped 

And left no spot unvisited. 

He gazed from every mountain height, 

He sought each cavern dark as night, 

And wandered through the bloomy shade 

By pool and river and cascade, 

But, though they sought in every place, 

Of Sita yet they found no trace. 

On fruit and woodland berries fed 

Through many a lonely wild they sped, 

And reached at last, untouched by fear, 

A desert terrible and drear: 

A fruitless waste, a land of gloom 



749 Hanuman was the leader of the army of the south which was under the 
nominal command of Angad the heir apparent. 



1346 The Ramayana 

Where trees were bare of leaf and bloom, 
Where every scanty stream was dried, 
And niggard earth her roots denied. 
No elephants through all the ground, 
No buffaloes or deer are found. 
There roams no tiger, pard, or bear, 
No creature of the wood is there. 
No bird displays his glittering wings, 
No tree, no shrub, no creeper springs. 
There rise no lilies from the flood, 
Resplendent with their flower and bud, 
Where the delighted bees may throng 
About the fragrance with their song. 
There lived a hermit Kandu named, 
For truth and wealth of penance famed. 
Whom fervent zeal and holy rite 
Had dowered with all-surpassing might. 
His little son, a ten year child — 
So chanced it — perished in the wild. 
His death with fury stirred the sage, 
Who cursed the forest in his rage, 
Doomed from that hour to shelter none, 
[381] A waste for bird and beast to shun. 

They searched by every forest edge, 
They searched each cave and mountain ledge, 
And thickets whence the water fell 
Wandering through the tangled dell. 
Striving to do Sugriva's will 
They roamed along each leafy rill. 
But vain were all endeavours, vain 
The careful search, the toil and pain. 
Through one dark grove they scarce could wind, 
So thick were creepers intertwined. 
There as they struggled through the wood 



Canto XLIX. Angad's Speech. 1347 

Before their eyes an Asur 750 stood. 
High as a towering hill, his pride 
The very Gods in heaven defied. 
When on the fiend their glances fell 
Each braced him for the combat well. 
The demon raised his arm on high, 
And rushed upon them with a cry. 
Him Angad smote, — for, sure, he thought 
This was the fiend they long had sought. 
From his huge mouth by Angad felled, 
The blood in rushing torrents welled, 
As, like a mountain from his base 
Uptorn, he dropped upon his face. 
Thus fell the mighty fiend: and they 
Through the thick wood pursued their way; 
Then, weary with the toil, reclined 
Where leafy boughs to shade them twined. 



Canto XLIX. Angad's Speech. 



Then Angad spake: "We Vanars well 
Have searched each valley, cave, and dell, 
And hill, and brook, and dark recess, 
And tangled wood, and wilderness. 
But all in vain: no eye has seen 
The robber or the Maithil queen. 
A dreary time has passed away, 
And stern is he we all obey. 



The Bengal recension — Gorresio's edition — calls this Asur or demon the 
son of Maricha. 



1348 The Ramayana 

Come, cast your grief and sloth aside: 
Again be every effort tried; 
So haply may our toil attain 
The sweet success that follows pain. 
Laborious effort, toil, and skill, 
The firm resolve, the constant will 
Secure at last the ends we seek: 
Hence, O my friends, I boldly speak. 
Once more then, noble hearts, once more 
Let us to-day this wood explore, 
And, languor and despair subdued, 
Purchase success with toil renewed. 
Sugriva is a king austere, 
And Rama's wrath we needs must fear. 
Come, Vanars, ye think it wise, 
And do the thing that I advise." 

Then Gandhamadan thus replied 
With lips that toil and thirst had dried; 
"Obey his words, for wise and true 
Is all that he has counselled you. 
Come, let your hosts their toil renew 
And search each grove and desert through, 
Each towering hill and forest glade. 
By lake and brook and white cascade, 
Till every spot, as our great lord 
Commanded, be again explored." 

Uprose the Vanars one and all, 
Obedient to the chieftain's call, 
And over the southern region sped 
Where Vindhya's tangled forests spread. 
They clomb that hill that towers on high 
Like a huge cloud in autumn's sky, 



Canto L. The Enchanted Cave. 1349 

Where many a cavern yawns, and streaks 
Of radiant silver deck the peaks. 
In eager search they wandered through 
The forests where the Lodh trees grew, 
Where the dark leaves were thick and green, 
But found not Rama's darling queen. 
Then faint with toil, their hearts depressed, 
Descending from the mountain's crest, 
Their weary limbs a while to ease 
They lay beneath the spreading trees. 



Canto L. The Enchanted Cave. 



Angad and Tara by his side, 

Again rose Hanuman and tried 

Each mountain cavern, dark and deep, 

And stony pass and wooded steep, 

The lion's and the tiger's home, 

By rushing torrents white with foam. 

Then with new ardour, south and west, 

O'er Vindhya's height the search they pressed. 

The day prescribed was near and they 

Still wandered on their weary way. 

They reached the southern land beset 

With woody mountains like a net. 

At length a mighty cave they spied 

That opened in a mountain's side. 

Where many a verdant creeper grew 

And o'er the mouth its tendrils threw. 

Thence issued crane, and swan, and drake, 

And trooping birds that love the lake. 



1350 The Ramayana 

The Vanars rushed within to cool 
Their fevered lips in spring or pool. 
Vast was the cavern dark and dread, 
Where not a ray of light was shed; 
[382] Yet not the more their eyesight failed, 

Their courage sank or valour quailed. 
On through the gloom the Vanars pressed 
With hunger, thirst, and toil distressed, 
Poor helpless wanderers, sad, forlorn, 
With wasted faces wan and worn. 
At length, when life seemed lost for aye, 
They saw a splendour as of day, 
A wondrous forest, fair and bright, 
Where golden trees shot flamy light. 
And lotus-covered pools were there 
With pleasant waters fresh and fair, 
And streams their rippling currents rolled 
By seats of silver and of gold. 
Fair houses reared their stately height 
Of burnished gold and lazulite, 
And glorious was the lustre thrown 
Through lattices of precious stone. 
And there were flowers and fruit on stems 
Of coral decked with rarest gems, 
And emerald leaves on silver trees, 
And honeycomb and golden bees. 
Then as the Vanars nearer drew, 
A holy woman met their view, 
Around her form was duly tied 
A garment of the blackdeer's hide. 751 
Pure votaress she shone with light 
Of fervent zeal and holy rite. 



751 The skin of the black antelope was the ascetic's proper garb. 



Canto LI. Svayamprabha. 1351 

Then Hanuman before the rest 
With reverent words the dame addressed: 
"Who art thou? say: and who is lord 
Of this vast cave with treasures stored?" 



Canto LI. Svayamprabha. 

"Assailed by thirst and hunger, dame, 
Within a gloomy vault we came. 
We saw the cavern opening wide, 
And straight within its depths we hied. 
But utterly amazed are we 
At all the marvels that we see. 
Whose are the golden trees that gleam 
With splendour like the morning's beam? 
These cates of noblest sort? these roots? 
This wondrous store of rarest fruits? 
Whose are these calm and cool retreats, 
These silver homes and golden seats, 
And lattices of precious stones? 
Who is the happy lord that owns 
The golden trees, of rarest scent, 
Neath loads of fruit and blossom bent? 
Who, strong in holy zeal, had power 
To deck the streams with richest dower, 
And bade the lilies bright with gold 
The glory of their blooms unfold, 
Where fish in living gold below 
The sheen of changing colours show? 
Thine is the holy power, I ween, 
That beautified the wondrous scene; 



1352 The Ramayana 

But if another's, lady, deign 

To tell us, and the whole explain." 



To him the lady of the cave 
In words like these her answer gave: 
"Skilled Maya framed in days of old 
This magic wood of growing gold. 
The chief artificer in place 
Was he of all the Danav race. 
He, for his wise enchantments famed, 
This glorious dwelling planned and framed 
He for a thousand years endured 
The sternest penance, and secured 
From Brahma of all boons the best, 
The knowledge Usanas 752 possessed. 
Lord, by that boon, of all his will, 
He fashioned all with perfect skill; 
And, with his blissful state content, 
In this vast grove a season spent. 
By Indra's jealous bolt he fell 
For loving Hema's 753 charms too well. 
And Brahma on that nymph bestowed 
The treasures of this fair abode, 
Wherein her tranquil days to spend 
In happiness that ne'er may end. 
Sprung of a lineage old and high, 
Merusavarni's 754 daughter, I 
Guard ever for that heavenly dame 



752 Usanas is the name of a sage mentioned in the Vedas. In the epic poems he 
is identified with Sukra, the regent of the planet Venus, and described as the 
preceptor of the Asuras or Daityas, and possessor of vast knowledge. 

753 Hema is one of the nymphs of Paradise. 

754 Merusavarni is a general name for the last four of the fourteen Manus. 



Canto LII. The Exit. 1353 

This home, Svayamprabha 755 my name, — 

For I have loved the lady long, 

So skilled in arts of dance and song. 

But say what cause your steps has led 

The mazes of this grove to tread. [383] 

How, strangers did ye chance to spy 

The wood concealed from wanderer's eye? 

Tell clearly why ye come: but first 

Eat of this fruit and quench your thirst." 



Canto LII. The Exit. 



"Rama," he cried, "a prince whose sway 
All peoples of the earth obey, 
To Dandak's tangled forest came 
With his brave brother and his dame. 
From that dark shade of forest boughs 
The giant Ravan stole his spouse. 
Our king Sugriva's orders send 
These Vanars forth to aid his friend, 
That so the lady be restored 
Uninjured to her sorrowing lord. 
With Angad and the rest, this band 
Has wandered through the southern land, 



755 Svayamprabha, the "self-luminous," is according to DE GUBERNATIS{FNS 
the moon: "In the Svayamprabha too, we meet with the moon as a good fairy 
who, from the golden palace which she reserves for her friend Hema (the 
golden one:) is during a month the guide, in the vast cavern of Hanumant and 
his companions, who have lost their way in the search of the dawn Sita." This 
is is not quite accurate: Hanuman and his companions wander for a month in 
the cavern without a guide, and then Svayamprabha leads them out. 



1354 The Ramayana 

With careful search in every place 
The lady and the fiend to trace. 
We roamed the southern region o'er, 
And stood upon the ocean's shore. 
By hunger pressed our strength gave way; 
Beneath the spreading trees we lay, 
And cried, worn out with toil and woe, 
"No farther, comrades, can we go." 
Then as our sad eyes looked around 
We spied an opening in the ground, 
Where all was gloomy dark behind 
The creeping plants that o'er it twined. 
Forth trooping from the dark-recess 
Came swans and mallards numberless, 
With drops upon their shining wings 
As newly bathed where water springs. 
"On, comrades, to the cave," I cried 
And all within the portal hied. 
Each clasping fast another's hand 
Far onward pressed the Vanar band; 
And still, as thirst and hunger drove, 
We traced the mazes of the grove. 
Here thou with hospitable care 
Hast fed us with the noblest fare, 
Preserving us, about to die, 
With this thy plentiful supply. 
But how, O pious lady, say, 
May we thy gracious boon repay?" 

He ceased: the ascetic dame replied: 
"Well, Vanars, am I satisfied. 
A life of holy works I lead, 
And from your hands no service need." 
Then spake again the Vanar chief: 



Canto LII. The Exit. 1355 

"We came to thee and found relief. 
Now listen to a new distress, 
And aid us, holy votaress. 
Our wanderings in this vasty cave 
Exhaust the time Sugriva gave. 
Once more then, lady, grant release, 
And let thy suppliants go in peace 
Again upon their errand sped, 
For King Sugriva's ire we dread. 
And the great task our sovereign set, 
Alas, is unaccomplished yet." 



Thus Hanuman their leader prayed, 
And thus the dame her answer made: 
"Scarce may the living find their way 
Returning hence to light of day; 
But I will free you through the might 
Of penance, fast, and holy rite. 
Close for a while your eyes, or ne'er 
May you return to upper air." 
She ceased: the Vanars all obeyed; 
Their fingers on their eyes they laid, 
And, ere a moment's time had fled, 
Were through the mazy cavern led. 
Again the gracious lady spoke, 
And joy in every bosom woke: 
"Lo, here again is Vindhya's hill, 
Whose valleys trees and creepers fill; 
And, by the margin of the sea, 
Prasravan where you fain would be." 
With blessings then she bade adieu, 
And swift within the cave withdrew. 



1356 The Ramayana 

Canto LIII. Angad's Counsel. 

They looked upon the boundless main 
The awful seat of Varan's reign. 
And heard his waters roar and rave 
Terrific with each crested wave. 
Then, in the depths of sorrow drowned, 
They sat upon the bosky ground, 
And sadly, as they pondered, grieved 
For days gone by and naught achieved. 
Pain pierced them through with sharper sting 
When, gazing on the trees of spring, 
They saw each waving bough that showed 
The treasures of its glorious load, 
And helpless, fainting with the weight 
Of woe they sank disconsolate. 
Then, lion-shouldered, stout and strong, 
The noblest of the Vanar throng, 
Angad the prince imperial rose, 
And, deeply stricken by the woes 
That his impetuous spirit broke, 
Thus gently to the chieftains spoke: 
"Mark ye not, Vanars, that the day 
Our monarch fixed has passed away? 
The month is lost in toil and pain, 
And now, my friends, what hopes remain? 
On you, in lore of counsel tried, 
Our king Sugriva most relied. 
[384] Your hearts, with strong affection fraught, 

His weal in every labour sought, 
And the true valour of your band 
Was blazoned wide in every land. 
Forth on the toilsome search you sped, 
By me — for so he willed it — led, 



Canto LIII. Angad's Counsel. 1357 

To us, of every hope bereft, 

Death is the only refuge left. 

For none a happy life may see 

Who fails to do our king's decree. 

Come, let us all from food abstain, 

And perish thus, since hope is vain. 

Stern is our king and swift to ire, 

Imperious, proud, and fierce like fire, 

And ne'er will pardon us the crime 

Of fruitless search and wasted time. 

Far better thus to end our lives, 

And leave our wealth, our homes and wives, 

Leave our dear little ones and all, 

Than by his vengeful hand to fall. 

Think not Sugriva's wrath will spare 

Me Bali's son, imperial heir: 

For Raghu's royal son, not he, 

To this high place anointed me. 

Sugriva, long my bitter foe, 

With eager hand will strike the blow, 

And, mindful of the old offence, 

Will slay me now for negligence, 

Nor will my pitying friends have power 

To save me in the deadly hour. 

No — here, O chieftains, will I lie 

By ocean's marge, and fast and die." 

They heard the royal prince declare 
The purpose of his fixt despair; 
And all, by common terror moved, 
His speech in these sad words approved: 
"Sugriva's heart is hard and stern, 
And Rama's thoughts for Sita yearn. 
Our forfeit lives will surely pay 



1358 The Ramayana 

For idle search and long delay, 
And our fierce king will bid us die 
The favour of his friend to buy." 

Then Tara softly spake to cheer 
The Vanars' hearts oppressed by fear: 
"Despair no more, your doubts dispel: 
Come in this ample cavern dwell. 
There may we live in blissful ease 
Mid springs and fruit and bloomy trees, 
Secure from every foe's assault, 
For magic framed the wondrous vault. 
Protected there we need not fear 
Though Rama and our king come near; 
Nor dread e'en him who batters down 
The portals of the foeman's town." 756 



Canto LIV. Hanuman's Speech. 

But Hanuman, while Tara, best 

Of splendid chiefs his thought expressed, 

Perceived that Bali's princely son 

A kingdom for himself had won. 757 

His keen eye marked in him combined 

The warrior's arm, the ruler's mind, 



756 Purandara, the destroyer of cities; the cities being the clouds which the 
God of the firmament bursts open with his thunderbolts, to release the waters 
imprisoned in these fortresses of the demons of drought. 
57 Perceived that Angad had secured, through the love of the Vanars, the 
reversion of Sugrfva's kingdom; or, as another commentator explains it, per- 
ceived that Angad had obtained a new kingdom in the enchanted cave which 
the Vanars, through love of him, would consent to occupy. 



Canto LIV. Hanuman's Speech. 1359 

And every noble gift should grace 

The happy sovereign of his race: 

Marked how he grew with ripening age 

More glorious and bold and sage, — 

Like the young moon that night by night 

Shines on with ever waxing light, — 

Brave as his royal father, wise 

As he who counsels in the skies: 758 

Marked how, forwearied with the quest, 

He heeded not his liege's hest, 

But Tara's every word obeyed 

Like Indra still by Sukra 759 swayed. 

Then with his prudent speech he tried 

To better thoughts the prince to guide, 

And by division's skilful art 

The Vanars and the youth to part: 

"Illustrious Angad, thou in fight 

Hast far surpassed thy father's might, 

Most worthy, like thy sire of old, 

The empire of our race to hold. 

The Vanars' fickle people range 

From wish to wish and welcome change. 

Their wives and babes they will not leave 

And to their new-made sovereign cleave. 

No art, no gifts will draw away 

The Vanars from Sugriva's sway, 

Through hope of wealth, through fear of pain 

Still faithful will they all remain. 

Thou fondly hopest in this cave 

The vengeance of the foe to brave. 

But Lakshman's arm a shower will send 

Of deadly shafts those walls to rend. 



58 Vrihaspati, Lord of Speech, the Preceptor of the Gods. 
759 Sukra is the regent of the planet Venus, and the preceptor of the Daityas. 



1360 The Ramayana 

Like Indra's bolts his shafts have power 
To cleave the mountain like a flower. 
O Angad, mark my counsel well: 
[385] If in this cave thou choose to dwell, 

These Vanar hosts with one accord 
Will quit thee for their lawful lord, 
And turn again with thirsty eyes 
To wife and babe and all they prize. 
Thou in the lonely cavern left 
Of followers and friends bereft, 
Wilt be in all thy woe, alas, 
Weak as a blade of trembling grass: 
And Lakshman's arrows, keen and fierce 
From his strong bow, thy heart will pierce. 
But if in lowly reverence meek 
Sugriva's court with us thou seek, 
He, as thy birth demands, will share 
The kingdom with the royal heir. 
Thy loving kinsman, true and wise, 
Looks on thee still with favouring eyes. 
Firm in his promise, pure is he, 
And ne'er will vex or injure thee. 
He loves thy mother, lives for her 
A faithful friend and worshipper. 
That mother's love thou mayst not spurn: 
Her only child, return, return." 



Canto LV. Angad's Reply. 



Canto LV. Angad's Reply. 1361 

"What truth or justice canst thou find," 
Cried Angad, "in Sugriva's mind? 
Where is his high and generous soul, 
His purity and self-control? 
How is he worthy of our trust, 
Righteous, and true, and wise, and just, 
Who, shrinking not from sin and shame, 
Durst take his living brother's dame? 
Who, when, in stress of mortal strife 
His noble brother fought for life, 
Against the valiant warrior barred 
The portal which he stood to guard? 
Can he be grateful — he who took 
The hand of Rama, and forsook 
That friend who saved him in his woes, 
To whom his life and fame he owes? 
Ah no ! his heart is cold and mean, 
What bids him search for Rama's queen? 
Not honour's law, not friendship's debt, 
But angry Lakshman's timely threat. 
No prudent heart will ever place 
Its trust in one so false and base, 
Who heeds not friendship, kith or kin, 
Who scorns the law and cleaves to sin. 
But true or false, whate'er he be, 
One consequence I clearly see; 
Me, in my youth anointed heir 
Against his wish, he will not spare, 
But strike with eager hand the blow 
That rids him of a household foe. 
Shall I of power and friends despoiled, 
In all my purpose crossed and foiled, — 
Shall I Kishkindha seek, and wait, 
Like some poor helpless thing, my fate? 



1362 The Ramayana 

The cruel wretch through lust of sway 
Will seize upon his hapless prey, 
And to a prison's secret gloom 
The remnant of my years will doom. 
Tis better far to fast and die 
Than hopeless bound in chains to lie, 
Your steps, O Vanars, homeward bend 
And leave me here my life to end. 
Better to die of hunger here 
Than meet at home the fate I fear. 
Go, bow you at Sugriva's feet, 
And in my name the monarch greet. 
Before the sons of Raghu bend, 
And give the greeting that I send. 
Greet kindly Ruma too, for she 
A son's affection claims from me, 
And gently calm with friendly care 
My mother Tara's wild despair; 
Or when she hears her darling's fate 
The queen will die disconsolate." 

Thus Angad bade the chiefs adieu: 
Then on the ground his limbs he threw 
Where sacred Darbha 760 grass was spread, 
And wept as every hope had fled. 
The moving words of Angad drew 
Down aged cheeks the piteous dew. 
And, as the chieftains' eyes grew dim, 
They swore to stay and die with him. 
On holy grass whose every blade 



760 The name of various kinds of grass used at sacrificial ceremonies, especial- 
ly, of the Kusa grass, Poa cynosuroides, which was used to strew the ground in 
preparing for a sacrifice, the officiating Brahmans being purified by sitting on 
it. 



Canto LVI. Sampati. 1363 

Was duly, pointing southward, laid, 
The Vanars sat them down and bent 
Their faces to the orient, 
While "Here, O comrades, let us die 
With Angad," was the general cry. 



Canto LVI. Sampati. 



Then came the vultures' mighty king 

Where sat the Vanars sorrowing, — 

Sampati, 761 best of birds that fly 

On sounding pinions through the sky, 

Jatayus' brother, famed of old, 

Most glorious and strong and bold. 

Upon the slope of Vindhya's hill 

He saw the Vanars calm and still. [386] 

These words he uttered while the sight 

Filled his fierce spirit with delight: 

"Behold how Fate with changeless laws 

Within his toils the sinner draws, 

And brings me, after long delay, 

A rich and noble feast to-day, 

These Vanars who are doomed to die 

My hungry maw to satisfy." 



Sampati is the eldest son of the celebrated Garuda the king of birds. 



1364 The Ramayana 

He spoke no more: and Angad heard 
The menace of the mighty bird; 
And thus, while anguish filled his breast, 
The noble Hanuman addressed: 
"Vivasvat's 762 son has sought this place 
For vengeance on the Vanar race. 
See, Yama, wroth for SM's sake, 
Is come our guilty lives to take. 
Our king's decree is left undone, 
And naught achieved for Raghu's son. 
In duty have we failed, and hence 
Comes punishment for dire offence. 
Have we not heard the marvels wrought 
By King Jatayus, 763 how he fought 
With Ravan's might, and, nobly brave, 
Perished, the Maithil queen to save? 
There is no living creature, none, 
But loves to die for Raghu's son, 
And in long toils and dangers we 
Have placed our lives in jeopardy. 
Blest is Jatayus, he who gave 
His life the Maithil queen to save, 
And proved his love for Rama well 
When by the giant's hand he fell. 
Now raised to bliss and high renown 
He fears not fierce Sugriva's frown. 
Alas, alas! what miseries spring 
From that rash promise of the king! 764 
His own sad death, and Rama sent 
With Lakshman forth to banishment: 
The Maithil lady borne away: 



764 Dasaratha's rash oath and fatal promise to his wife Kaikeyf. 



Canto LVII. Angad's Speech. 1365 

Jatayus slain in mortal fray: 
The fall of Bali when the dart 
Of Rama quivered in his heart: 
And, after toil and pain and care, 
Our misery and deep despair." 

He ceased: the feathered monarch heard, 
His heart with ruth and wonder stirred: 
"Whose is that voice," the vulture cried, 
"That tells me how Jatayus died, 
And shakes my inmost soul with woe 
For a loved brother's overthrow? 
After long days at length I hear 
The glorious name of one so dear. 
Once more, O Vanar chieftains, tell 
How King Jatayus fought and fell. 
But first your aid, I pray you, lend, 
And from this peak will I descend. 
The sun has burnt my wings, and I 
No longer have the power to fly." 



Canto LVII. Angad's Speech. 



Though grief and woe his utterance broke 
They trusted not the words he spoke; 
But, looking still for secret guile, 
Reflected in their hearts a while: 
"If on our mangled limbs he feed, 
We gain the death ourselves decreed." 



1366 The Ramayana 

Then rose the Vanar chiefs, and lent 
Their arms to aid the bird's descent; 
And Angad spake: "There lived of yore 
A noble Vanar king who bore 
The name of Riksharajas, great 
And brave and strong and fortunate. 
His sons were like their father: fame 
Knows Bali and Sugriva's name. 
Praised in all lands, a glorious king 
Was Bali, and from him I spring. 
Brave Rama, Dasaratha's heir, 
A glorious prince beyond compare, 
His sire and duty's law obeyed, 
And sought the depths of Dandak shade 
Sita his well-beloved dame, 
And Lakshman, with the wanderer came. 
A giant watched his hour, and stole 
The sweet delight of Rama's soul. 
Jatayus, Dasaratha's friend, 
Swift succour to the dame would lend. 
Fierce Ravan from his car he felled, 
And for a time the prize withheld. 
But bleeding, weak with years, and tired, 
Beneath the demon's blows expired, 
Due rites at Rama's hands obtained, 
And bliss that ne'er shall minish, gained. 
Then Rama with Sugriva made 
A covenant for mutual aid, 
And Bali, to the field defied, 
By conquering Rama's arrow died. 
Sugriva then, by Rama's grace, 
Was monarch of the Vanar race. 
By his command a mighty host 
Seeks Rama's queen from coast to coast. 



Canto LVIII. Tidings Of Sua. 1367 

Sent forth by him, in every spot 

We looked for her, but find her not. 

Vain is the toil, as though by night 

We sought to find the Day-God's light. 

In lands unknown at length we found 

A spacious cavern under ground, 

Whose vaults that stretch beneath the hill 

Were formed by Maya's magic skill. 

Through the dark maze our steps were bent, 

And wandering there a month we spent, [387] 

And lost, in fruitless error, thus 

The days our king allotted us. 

Thus we though faithful have transgressed, 

And failed to keep our lord's behest. 

No chance of safety can we see, 

No lingering hope of life have we. 

Sugriva's wrath and Rama's hate 

Press on our souls with grievous weight: 

And we, because 'tis vain to fly, 

Resolve at length to fast and die." 



Canto LVIII. Tidings Of SM. 

The piteous tears his eye bedewed 
As thus his speech the bird renewed; 
"Alas my brother, slain in fight 
By Ravan's unresisted might! 
I, old and wingless, weak and worn, 
O'er his sad fate can only mourn. 
Fled is my youth: in life's decline 
My former strength no more is mine. 



1368 The Ramayana 

Once on the day when Vritra 765 died, 

We brothers, in ambitious pride, 

Sought, mounting with adventurous flight, 

The Day-God garlanded with light. 

On, ever on we urged our way 

Where fields of ether round us lay, 

Till, by the fervent heat assailed, 

My brother's pinions flagged and failed. 

I marked his sinking strength, and spread 

My stronger wings to screen his head, 

Till, all my feathers burnt away, 

On Vindhya's hill I fell and lay. 

There in my lone and helpless state 

I heard not of my brother's fate." 



Thus King Sampati spoke and sighed: 
And royal Angad thus replied: 
"If, brother of Jatayus, thou 
Hast heard the tale I told but now, 
Obedient to mine earnest prayer 
The dwelling of that fiend declare. 
O, say where cursed Ravan dwells, 
Whom folly to his death impels." 



765 Vritra, "the coverer, hider, obstructer (of rain)" is the name of the Vedic 
personification of an imaginary malignant influence or demon of darkness and 
drought supposed to take possession of the clouds, causing them to obstruct the 
clearness of the sky and keep back the waters. Indra is represented as battling 
with this evil influence, and the pent-up clouds being practically represented 
as mountains or castles are shattered by his thunderbolt and made to open their 
receptacles. 



Canto LVIII. Tidings Of Sua. 1369 

He ceased. Again Sampati spoke, 
And hope in every breast awoke: 
"Though lost my wings, and strength decayed, 
Yet shall my words lend Rama aid. 
I know the worlds where Vishnu trod, 766 
I know the realm of Ocean's God; 
How Asurs fought with heavenly foes, 
And Amrit from the churning rose. 767 
A mighty task before me lies, 
To prosper Rama's enterprise, 
A task too hard for one whom length 
Of days has rifled of his strength. 
I saw the cruel Ravan bear 
A gentle lady through the air. 
Bright was her form, and fresh and young, 
And sparkling gems about her hung. 
"O Rama, Rama!" cried the dame, 
And shrieked in terror Lakshman's name, 
As, struggling in the giant's hold, 
She dropped her gauds of gems and gold. 
Like sun-light on a mountain shone 
The silken garments she had on, 
And glistened o'er his swarthy form 
As lightning flashes through the storm. 
That giant Ravan, famed of old, 
Is brother of the Lord of Gold. 768 
The southern ocean roars and swells 
Round Lanka, where the robber dwells 
In his fair city nobly planned 



766 Frequent mention has been made of the three steps of Vishnu typifying the 
rising, culmination, and setting of the sun. 

767 For the Churning of the Sea, see Book I, Canto XLV. 



1370 The Ramayana 

And built by Visvakarma's 769 hand. 
Within his bower securely barred, 
With monsters round her for a guard, 
Still in her silken vesture clad 
Lies Sita, and her heart is sad. 
A hundred leagues your course must be 
Beyond this margin of the sea. 
Still to the south your way pursue, 
And there the giant Ravan view. 
Then up, O Vanars, and away! 
For by my heavenly lore I say, 
There will you see the lady's face, 
And hither soon your steps retrace. 
In the first field of air are borne 
The doves and birds that feed on corn. 
The second field supports the crows 
And birds whose food on branches grows. 
Along the third in balanced flight 
Sail the keen osprey and the kite. 
Swift through the fourth the falcon springs 
The fifth the slower vulture wings. 
[388] Up to the sixth the gay swans rise, 

Where royal Vainateya 770 flies. 
We too, O chiefs, of vulture race, 
Our line from Vinata may trace, 
Condemned, because we wrought a deed 
Of shame, on flesh and blood to feed. 
But all Suparna's 771 wondrous powers 
And length of keenest sight are ours, 
That we a hundred leagues away 
Through fields of air descry our prey. 



59 The architect of the gods. 



770 Garuda, son of Vinata, the sovereign of the birds. 

771 "The well winged one," Garuda. 



Canto LIX. Sampati's Story. 1371 

Now from this spot my gazing eye 
Can Ravan and the dame descry. 
Devise some plan to overleap 
This barrier of the briny deep. 
Find the Videhan lady there, 
And joyous to your home repair. 
Me too, O Vanars, to the side 
Of Varun's 772 home the ocean, guide, 
Where due libations shall be paid 
To my great-hearted brother's shade." 



Canto LIX. Sampati's Story. 



They heard his counsel to the close, 
Then swiftly to their feet they rose; 
And Jambavan with joyous breast 
The vulture king again addressed: 



"Where, where is Sfta? who has seen, 
Who borne away the Maithil queen? 
Who would the lightning flight withstand 
by Lakshman's hand?" 



772 The god of the sea. 



1372 The Ramayana 

Again Sampati spoke to cheer 
The Vanars as they bent to hear: 
"Now listen, and my words shall show 
What of the Maithil dame I know, 
And in what distant prison lies 
The lady of the long dark eyes. 
Scorched by the fiery God of Day, 
High on this mighty hill I lay. 
A long and weary time had passed, 
And strength and life were failing fast. 
Yet, ere the breath had left my frame, 
My son, my dear Suparsva, came. 
Each morn and eve he brought me food, 
And filial care my life renewed. 
But serpents still are swift to ire, 
Gandharvas slaves to soft desire, 
And we, imperial vultures, need 
A full supply our maws to feed. 
Once he turned at close of day, 
Stood by my side, but brought no prey. 
He looked upon my ravenous eye, 
Heard my complaint and made reply: 
"Borne on swift wings ere day was light 
I stood upon Mahendra's 773 height, 
And, far below, the sea I viewed 
And birds in countless multitude. 
Before mine eyes a giant flew 
Whose monstrous form was dark of hue 
And struggling in his grasp was borne 
A lady radiant as the morn. 
Swift to the south his course he bent, 
And cleft the yielding element. 



773 Mahendra is chain of mountains generally identified with part of the Ghats 
of the Peninsula. 



Canto LX. Sampati's Story. 1373 

The holy spirits of the air 
Came round me as I marvelled there, 
And cried as their bright legions met: 
"O say, is SM living yet?" 
Thus cried the saints and told the name 
Of him who held the struggling dame. 
Then while mine eye with eager look 
Pursued the path the robber took, 
I marked the lady's streaming hair, 
And heard her cry of wild despair. 
I saw her silken vesture rent 
And stripped of every ornament, 
Thus, O my father, fled the time: 
Forgive, I pray, the heedless crime." 
In vain the mournful tale I heard 
My pitying heart to fury stirred, 
What could a helpless bird of air, 
Reft of his boasted pinions, dare? 
Yet can I aid with all that will 
And words can do, and friendly skill." 



Canto LX. Sampati's Story. 

Then from the flood Sampati paid 
Due offerings to his brother's shade. 
He bathed him when the rites were done, 
And spake again to Bali's son: 
"Now listen, Prince, while I relate 
How first I learned the lady's fate. 
Burnt by the sun's resistless might 
I fell and lay on Vindhya's height. 



1374 The Ramayana 

Seven nights in deadly swoon I passed, 
But struggling life returned at last. 
Around I bent my wondering view, 
But every spot was strange and new. 
I scanned the sea with eager ken, 
And rock and brook and lake and glen, 
I saw gay trees their branches wave, 
And creepers mantling o'er the cave. 
I heard the wild birds' joyous song, 
And waters as they foamed along, 
And knew the lovely hill must be 
[389] Mount Vindhya by the southern sea. 

Revered by heavenly beings, stood 
Near where I lay, a sacred wood, 
Where great Nisakar dwelt of yore 
And pains of awful penance bore. 
Eight thousand seasons winged their flight 
Over the toiling anchorite — 
Upon that hill my days were spent, — 
And then to heaven the hermit went. 
At last, with long and hard assay, 
Down from that height I made my way, 
And wandered through the mountain pass 
Rough with the spikes of Darbha grass. 
I with my misery worn, and faint 
Was eager to behold the saint: 
For often with Jatayus I 
Had sought his home in days gone by. 
As nearer to the grove I drew 
The breeze with cooling fragrance blew, 
And not a tree that was not fair, 
With richest flower and fruit was there. 
With anxious heart a while I stayed 
Beneath the trees' delightful shade, 



Canto LXI. Sampati's Story. 1375 

And soon the holy hermit, bright 

With fervent penance, came in sight. 

Behind him bears and lions, tame 

As those who know their feeder, came, 

And tigers, deer, and snakes pursued 

His steps, a wondrous multitude, 

And turned obeisant when the sage 

Had reached his shady hermitage. 

Then came Nisakar to my side 

And looked with wondering eyes, and cried: 

"I knew thee not, so dire a change 

Has made thy form and feature strange. 

Where are thy glossy feathers? where 

The rapid wings that cleft the air? 

Two vulture brothers once I knew: 

Each form at will could they endue. 

They of the vulture race were kings, 

And flew with Matarisva's 774 wings. 

In human shape they loved to greet 

Their hermit friend, and clasp his feet. 

The younger was Jatayus, thou 

The elder whom I gaze on now. 

Say, has disease or foeman's hate 

Reduced thee from thy high estate?" 



Canto LXI. Sampati's Story. 



774 Matarisva is identified with Vayu, the wind. 



1376 The Ramayana 

"Ah me! o'erwhelmed with shame and weak 

With wounds," I cried, "I scarce can speak. 

My hapless brother once and I 

Our strength of flight resolved to try. 

And by our foolish pride impelled 

Our way through realms of ether held. 

We vowed before the saints who tread 

The wilds about Kailasa's head, 

That we with following wings would chase 

The swift sun to his resting place. 

Up on our soaring pinions through 

The fields of cloudless air we flew. 

Beneath us far, and far away, 

Like chariot wheels bright cities lay, 

Whence in wild snatches rose the song 

Of women mid the gay-clad throng, 

With sounds of sweetest music blent 

And many a tinkling ornament. 

Then as our rapid wings we strained 

The pathway of the sun we gained. 

Beneath us all the earth was seen 

Clad in her garb of tender green, 

And every river in her bed 

Meandered like a silver thread. 

We looked on Meru far below 

And Vindhya and the Lord of Snow, 

Like elephants that bend to cool 

Their fever in a lilied pool. 

But fervent heat and toil o'ercame 

The vigour of each yielding frame, 

Our weary hearts began to quail, 

And wildered sense to reel and fail. 

We knew not, fainting and distressed, 

The north or south or east or west. 



Canto LXII. Sampati's Story. 1377 

With a great strain mine eyes I turned 
Where the fierce sun before me burned, 
And seemed to my astonished eyes 
The equal of the earth in size. 775 
At length, o'erpowered, Jatayus fell 
Without a word to say farewell, 
And when to earth I saw him hie 
I followed headlong from the sky. 776 
With sheltering wings I intervened 
And from the sun his body screened, 
But lost, for heedless folly doomed, 
My pinions which the heat consumed. 
In Janasthan, I hear them say, 
My hapless brother fell and lay. 
I, pinionless and faint and weak, 
Dropped upon Vindhya's woody peak. 
Now with my swift wings burnt away, 
Reft of my brother and my sway, 
From this tall mountain's summit I 
Will cast me headlong down and die." 



Canto LXII. Sampati's Story. 



[390] 



775 Of course not equal to the whole earth, says the Commentator, but equal to 
Janasthan. 

776 This appears to be the Indian form of the stories of Phaethon and Daedalus 
and Icarus. 



1378 The Ramayana 

"As to the saint I thus complained 
My bitter tears fell unrestrained. 
He pondered for a while, then broke 
The silence, and thus calmly spoke: 
"Forth from thy sides again shall spring, 
O royal bird, each withered wing, 
And all thine ancient power and might 
Return to thee with strength of sight. 
A noble deed has been foretold 
In prophecy pronounced of old: 
Nor dark to me are future things, 
Seen by the light which penance brings. 
A glorious king shall rise and reign, 
The pride of old Ikshvaku's strain. 
A good and valiant prince, his heir, 
Shall the dear name of Rama bear. 
With his brave brother Lakshman he 
An exile in the woods shall be, 
Where Ravan, whom no God may slay, 777 
Shall steal his darling wife away. 
In vain the captive will be wooed 
With proffered love and dainty food, 
She will not hear, she will not taste: 
But, lest her beauty wane and waste, 
Lord Indra's self will come to her 
With heavenly food, and minister. 
Then envoys of the Vanar race 
By Rama sent will seek this place. 
To them, O roamer of the air, 
The lady's fate shalt thou declare. 
Thou must not move — so maimed thou art 
Thou canst not from this spot depart. 



77 According to the promise, given him by Brahma. See Book I, Canto XIV. 



Canto LXIII. Sampati's Story. 1379 

Await the day and moment due, 
And thy burnt wings will sprout anew. 
I might this day the boon bestow 
And bid again thy pinions grow, 
But wait until thy saving deed 
The nations from their fear have freed. 
Then for this glorious aid of thine 
The princes of Ikshvaku's line, 
And Gods above and saints below 
Eternal gratitude shall owe. 
Fain would mine aged eyes behold 
That pair of whom my lips have told, 
Yet wearied here I must not stay, 
But leave my frame and pass away." 



Canto LXIII. Sampati's Story. 

"With this and many a speech beside 

My failing heart he fortified, 

With glorious hope my breast inspired, 

And to his holy home retired. 

I scaled the mountain height, to view 

The region round, and looked for you. 

In ceaseless watchings night and day 

A hundred seasons passed away, 

And by the sage's words consoled 

I wait the hour and chance foretold. 

But since Nisakar sought the skies. 

And cast away all earthly ties, 

Full many a care and doubt has pressed 

With grievous weight upon my breast. 



1380 The Ramayana 

But for the saint who turned aside 

My purpose I had surely died. 

Those hopeful words the hermit spake, 

That bid me live for Rama's sake, 

Dispel my anguish as the light 

Of lamp and torch disperse the night." 



He ceased: and in the Vanars' view 
Forth from his side young pinions grew, 
And boundless rapture filled his breast 
As thus the chieftains he addressed: 
"Joy, joy! the pinions, which the Lord 
Of Day consumed, are now restored 
Through the dear grace & boundless might 
Of that illustrious anchorite. 
The fire of youth within me burns, 
And all my wonted strength returns. 
Onward, ye Vanars, toil strive, 
And you shall find the dame alive. 
Look on these new-found wings, and hence 
Be strong in surest confidence." 



Swift from the crag he sprang to try 
His pinions in his native sky. 
His words the chieftains' doubts had stilled, 
And every heart with courage filled. 778 



78 In the Bengal recension the fourth Book ends here, the remaining Cantos 
being placed in the fifth. 



Canto LXIV. The Sea. 1381 

Canto LXIV. The Sea. 



Shouts of triumphant joy outrang 

As to their feet the Vanars sprang: 

And, on the mighty task intent, 

Swift to the sea their steps they bent. 

They stood and gazed upon the deep, 

Whose billows with a roar and leap 

On the sea banks ware wildly hurled, — 

The mirror of the mighty world. 

There on the strand the Vanars stayed 

And with sad eyes the deep surveyed, 

Here, as in play, his billows rose, 

And there he slumbered in repose. 

Here leapt the boisterous waters, high 

As mountains, menacing the sky, 

And wild infernal forms between 

The ridges of the waves were seen. [391] 

They saw the billows rave and swell, 

And their sad spirits sank and fell; 

For ocean in their deep despair 

Seemed boundless as the fields of air. 

Then noble Angad spake to cheer 

The Vanars and dispel their fear: 

"Faint not: despair should never find 

Admittance to a noble mind. 

Despair, a serpent's mortal bite, 

Benumbs the hero's power and might." 



1382 The Ramayana 

Then passed the weary night, and all 
Assembled at their prince's call, 
And every lord of high estate 
Was gathered round him for debate. 
Bright was the chieftains' glorious band 
Round Angad on the ocean strand, 
As when the mighty Storm-Gods meet 
Round Indra on his golden seat. 
Then princely Angad looked on each, 
And thus began his prudent speech: 
"What chief of all our host will leap 
A hundred leagues across the deep? 
Who, O illustrious Vanars, who 
Will make Sugriva's promise true, 
And from our weight of fear set free 
The leaders of our band and me? 
To whom, O warriors, shall we owe 
A sweet release from pain and woe, 
And proud success, and happy lives 
With our dear children and our wives, 
Again permitted by his grace 
To look with joy on Rama's face, 
And noble Lakshman, and our lord 
The king, to our sweet homes restored?" 

Thus to the gathered lords he spoke; 
But no reply the silence broke. 
Then with a sterner voice he cried: 
"O chiefs, the nation's boast and pride, 
Whom valour strength and power adorn, 
Of most illustrious lineage born, 
Where'er you will you force a way, 
And none your rapid course can stay. 
Now come, your several powers declare. 



Canto LXV. The Council. 1383 

And who this desperate leap will dare?" 



Canto LXV. The Council. 



But none of all the host was found 

To clear the sea with desperate bound, 

Though each, as Angad bade, declared 

His proper power and what he dared. 779 

Then spake good Jambavan the sage, 

Chief of them all for reverend age; 

"I, Vanar chieftains, long ago 

Limbs light to leap could likewise show, 

But now on frame and spirit weighs 

The burthen of my length of days. 

Still task like this I may not slight, 

When Rama and our king unite. 

So listen while I tell, O friends, 

What lingering strength mine age attends. 

If my poor leap may aught avail, 

Of ninety leagues, I will not fail. 

Far other strength in youth's fresh prime 

I boasted, in the olden time, 

When, at Prahlada's 780 solemn rite, 

I circled in my rapid flight 

Lord Vishnu, everlasting God, 

When through the universe he trod. 



79 Each chief comes forward and says how far he can leap. Gaja says he can 
leap ten yojans. Gavaksha can leap twenty. Gavaya thirty, and so on up to 
ninety. 

780 Prahlada, the son of Hiranyakasipu, was a pious Datya remarkable for his 
devotion to Vishnu, and was on this account persecuted by his father. 



1384 The Ramayana 

But now my limbs are weak and old, 
My youth is fled, its fire is cold, 
And these exhausted nerves to strain 
In such a task were idle pain." 

Then Angad due obeisance paid, 
And to the chief his answer made: 
"Then I, ye noble Vanars, I 
Myself the mighty leap will try: 
Although perchance the power I lack 
To leap from Lanka's island back." 

Thus the impetuous chieftain cried, 
And Jambavan the sage replied: 
"Whate'er thy power and might may be, 
This task, O Prince, is not for thee. 
Kings go not forth themselves, but send 
The servants who their best attend. 
Thou art the darling and the boast, 
The honoured lord of all the host. 
In thee the root, O Angad, lies 
Of our appointed enterprise; 
And thee, on whom our hopes depend, 
Our care must cherish and defend." 

Then Bali's noble son replied: 
"Needs must I go, whate'er betide, 
For, if no chief this exploit dare, 
What waits us all save blank despair, — 
Upon the ground again to lie 
In hopeless misery, fast, and die? 
For not a hope of life I see 
If we neglect our king's decree." 
Then spoke the aged chief again: 
"Nay our attempt shall not be vain, 



Canto LXVI. Hanuman. 1385 

For to the task will I incite 

A chieftain of sufficient might." 



Canto LXVI. Hanuman. 



The chieftain turned his glances where 
The legions sat in mute despair; 
And then to Hanuman, the best 
Of Vanar lords, these words addressed: 
"Why still, and silent, and apart, 
O hero of the dauntless heart? 
Thou keepest treasured in thy mind 
The laws that rule the Vanar kind, 
Strong as our king Sugriva, brave 
As Rama's self to slay or save. 
Through every land thy praise is heard, 
Famous as that illustrious bird, 
Arishtanemi's son, 781 the king 
Of every fowl that plies the wing. 
Oft have I seen the monarch sweep 
With sounding pinions o'er the deep, 
And in his mighty talons bear 
Huge serpents struggling through the air. 
Thy arms, O hero, match in might 
The ample wings he spreads for flight; 



[392] 



781 The Bengal recension calls him Arishtanemi's brother. "The commentator 
says 'Arishtanemi is Aruna.' Aruna the charioteer of the sun is the son of 
Kasyapa and Vinata and by consequence brother of Garuda, called Vainateya 
from Vinata, his mother." GORRESSIO{FNS. 



1386 The Ramayana 

And thou with him mayest well compare 

In power to do, in heart to dare. 

Why, rich in wisdom, power, and skill, 

O hero, art thou lingering still? 

An Apsaras 782 the fairest found 

Of nymphs for heavenly charms renowned, 

Sweet Punjikasthala, became 

A noble Vanar's wedded dame. 

Her heavenly title heard no more, 

Anjana was the name she bore, 

When, cursed by Gods, from heaven she fell 

In Vanar form on earth to dwell, 

New-born in mortal shape the child 

Of Kunjar monarch of the wild. 

In youthful beauty wondrous fair, 

A crown of flowers about her hair, 

In silken robes of richest dye 

She roamed the hills that kiss the sky. 

Once in her tinted garments dressed 

She stood upon the mountain crest, 

The God of Wind beside her came, 

And breathed upon the lovely dame. 

And as he fanned her robe aside 

The wondrous beauty that he eyed 

In rounded lines of breast and limb 

And neck and shoulder ravished him; 

And captured by her peerless charms 

He strained her in his amorous arms. 

Then to the eager God she cried 

In trembling accents, terrified: 

"Whose impious love has wronged a spouse 

So constant in her nuptial vows?" 



782 A nymph of Paradise. 



Canto LXVI. Hanuman. 1387 

He heard, and thus his answer made: 
"O, be not troubled, nor afraid, 
But trust, and thou shalt know ere long 
My love has done thee, sweet, no wrong, 
So strong and brave and wise shall be 
The glorious child I give to thee. 
Might shall be his that naught can tire, 
And limbs to spring as springs his sire." 
Thus spoke the God; the conquered dame 
Rejoiced in heart nor feared the shame. 
Down in a cave beneath the earth 
The happy mother gave thee birth. 
Once o'er the summit of the wood 
Before thine eyes the new sun stood. 
Thou sprangest up in haste to seize 
What seemed the fruitage of the trees. 
Up leapt the child, a wondrous bound, 
Three hundred leagues above the ground, 
And, though the angered Day-God shot 
His fierce beams on him, feared him not. 
Then from the hand of Indra came 
A red bolt winged with wrath and flame. 
The child fell smitten on a rock, 
His cheek was shattered by the shock, 
Named Hanuman 783 thenceforth by all 
In memory of the fearful fall. 
The wandering Wind-God saw thee lie 
With bleeding cheek and drooping eye, 
And stirred to anger by thy woe 
Forbade each scented breeze to blow. 
The breath of all the worlds was stilled, 
And the sad Gods with terror filled 



783 Hanu or Hanii means jaw. Hanuman or Hanuman means properly one with 
a large jaw. 



1388 The Ramay ana 

Prayed to the Wind, to calm the ire 
And soothe the sorrow of the sire. 
His fiery wrath no longer glowed, 
And Brahma's self the boon bestowed 
That in the brunt of battle none 
Should slay with steel the Wind-God's son. 
Lord Indra, sovereign of the skies, 
Bent on thee all his thousand eyes, 
And swore that ne'er the bolt which he 
Hurls from the heaven should injure thee. 
'Tis thine, O mighty chief, to share 
The Wind-God's power, his son and heir. 
Sprung from that glorious father thou, 
And thou alone, canst aid us now. 
This earth of yore, through all her climes, 
I circled one-and-twenty times, 
And gathered, as the Gods decreed, 
Great store of herbs from hill and mead, 
Which, scattered o'er the troubled wave, 
[393] The Amrit to the toilers gave. 

But now my days are wellnigh told, 

My strength is gone, my limbs are old, 

And thou, the bravest and the best, 

Art the sure hope of all the rest. 

Now, mighty chief, the task assay: 

Thy matchless power and strength display. 

Rise up, O prince, our second king, 

And o'er the flood of ocean spring. 

So shall the glorious exploit vie 

With his who stepped through earth and sky." 784 



784 Vishnu, the God of the Three Steps. 



Canto LXVII. Hanuman's Speech. 1389 

He spoke: the younger chieftain heard, 
His soul to vigorous effort stirred, 
And stood before their joyous eyes 
Dilated in gigantic size. 



Canto LXVII. Hanuman's Speech. 



Soon as his stature they beheld, 
Their fear and sorrow were dispelled; 
And joyous praises loud and long 
Rang out from all the Vanar throng. 
On the great chief their eyes they bent 
In rapture and astonishment, 
As, when his conquering foot he raised, 
The Gods upon Narayan 785 gazed. 
He stood amid the joyous crowd, 
Bent to the chiefs, and cried aloud: 
"The Wind-God, Fire's eternal friend, 
Whose blasts the mountain summits rend, 
With boundless force that none may stay, 
Takes where he lists his viewless way. 
Sprung from that glorious father, I 
In power and speed with him may vie, 
A thousand times with airy leap 
Can circle loftiest Meru's steep: 
With my fierce arms can stir the sea 
Till from their bed the waters flee 
And rush at my command to drown 



785 Narayan, "He who moved upon the waters," is Vishnu. The allusion is to 
the famous three steps of that God. 



1390 The Ramayana 

This land with grove and tower and town. 
I through the fields of air can spring 
Far swifter than the feathered King, 
And leap before him as he flies, 
On sounding pinions through the skies. 
I can pursue the Lord of Light 
Uprising from the eastern height, 
And reach him ere his course be sped 
With burning beams engarlanded. 
I will dry up the mighty main, 
Shatter the rocks and rend the plain. 
O'er earth and ocean will I bound, 
And every flower that grows on ground, 
And bloom of climbing plants shall show 
Strewn on the ground, the way I go, 
Bright as the lustrous path that lies 
Athwart the region of the skies. 786 
The Maithil lady will I find- 
Thus speaks mine own prophetic mind, — 
And cast in hideous ruin down 
The shattered walls of Lanka's town." 

Still on the chief in rapt surprise 
The Vanar legions bent their eyes, 
And thus again sage Jambavan 
Addressed the glorious Hanuman: 
"Son of the Wind, thy promise cheers 
The Vanars' hearts, and calms their fears, 
Who, rescued from their dire distress, 
With prospering vows thy way will bless. 
The holy saints their favour lend, 
And all our chiefs the deed commend 
Urging thee forward on thy way: 



786 The Milky Way. 



Canto LXVII. Hanuman's Speech. 1391 

Arise then, and the task assay. 
Thou art our only refuge; we, 
Our lives and all, depend on thee." 

Then sprang the Wind-God's son the best 
Of Vanars, on Mahendra's crest, 
And the great mountain rocked and swayed 
By that unusual weight dismayed, 
As reels an elephant beneath 
The lion's spring and rending teeth. 
The shady wood that crowned him shook, 
The trembling birds the boughs forsook, 
And ape and pard and lion fled 
From brake and lair disquieted. 



[394] 



BOOKV 



787 



Canto I. Hanuman's Leap. 

Thus Ravan's foe resolved to trace 

The captive to her hiding-place 

Through airy pathways overhead 

Which heavenly minstrels visited. 

With straining nerve and eager brows, 

Like some strong husband of the cows, 

In ready might he stood prepared 

For the bold task his soul has dared. 

O'er gem-like grass that flashed and glowed 

The Vanar like a lion strode. 

Roused by the thunder of his tread, 

The beasts to shady coverts fled. 

Tall trees he crushed or hurled aside, 

And every bird was terrified. 

Around him loveliest lilies grew, 

Pale pink, and red, and white, and blue, 

And tints of many a metal lent 



87 This Book is called Sundar or the Beatiful. To a European taste it is the most 
intolerably tedious of the whole poem, abounding in repetition, overloaded 
description, and long and useless speeches which impede the action of the 
poem. Manifest interpolations of whole Cantos also occur. I have omitted 
none of the action of the Book, but have occasionally omitted long passages 
of common-place description, lamentation, and long stories which have been 
again and again repeated. 



Canto I. Hanuman's Leap. 1393 

The light of varied ornament. 

Gandharvas, changing forms at will, 

And Yakshas roamed the lovely hill, 

And countless Serpent-Gods were seen 

Where flowers and grass were fresh and green. 

As some resplendent serpent takes 

His pastime in the best of lakes, 

So on the mountain's woody height 

The Vanar wandered with delight. 

Then, standing on the flowery sod, 

He paid his vows to saint and God. 

Svayambhu 788 and the Sun he prayed, 

And the swift Wind to lend him aid, 

And Indra, sovereign of the skies, 

To bless his hardy enterprise. 

Then once again the chief addressed 

The Vanars from the mountain crest: 

"Swift as a shaft from Rama's bow 

To Ravan's city will I go, 

And if she be not there will fly 

And seek the lady in the sky; 

Or, if in heaven she be not found, 

Will hither bring the giant bound." 

He ceased; and mustering his might 
Sprang downward from the mountain height, 
While, shattered by each mighty limb, 
The trees unrooted followed him. 
The shadow on the ocean cast 
By his vast form, as on he passed, 
Flew like a ship before the gale 
When the strong breeze has filled the sail, 
And where his course the Vanar held 



Brahma the Self-Existent. 



1394 The Ramayana 

The sea beneath him raged and swelled. 

Then Gods and all the heavenly train 

Poured flowerets down in gentle rain; 

Their voices glad Gandharvas raised, 

And saints in heaven the Vanar praised. 

Fain would the Sea his succour lend 

And Raghu's noble son befriend. 

He, moved by zeal for Rama's sake, 

The hill Mainaka 789 thus bespake: 

"O strong Mainaka, heaven's decree 

In days of old appointed thee 

To be the Asurs bar, and keep 

The rebels in the lowest deep. 

Thou guardest those whom heaven has cursed 

Lest from their prison-house they burst, 

And standest by the gates of hell 

Their limitary sentinel. 

To thee is given the power to spread 

Or spring above thy watery bed. 

Now, best of noble mountains, rise 

And do the thing that I advise. 

E'en now above thy buried crest 

Flies mighty Hanuman, the best 

Of Vanars, moved for Rama's sake 

A wonderous deed to undertake. 

Lift up thy head that he may stay 

And rest him on his weary way." 

He heard, and from his watery shroud, 
As bursts the sun from autumn cloud, 
Rose swifty, crowned with plant and tree, 
And stood above the foamy sea. 790 



89 Mainaka was the son of Himalaya and Mena or Menaka. 
790 Thus Milton makes the hills of heaven self-moving at command: 



Canto I. Hanuman's Leap. 1395 

There with his lofty peaks upraised 

Bright as a hundred suns he blazed, 

And crest and crag of burnished gold 

Flashed on the flood that round him rolled. [395] 

The Vanar thought the mountain rose 

A hostile bar to interpose, 

And, like a wind-swept cloud, o'erthrew 

The glittering mountain as he flew. 

Then from the falling hill rang out 

A warning voice and joyful shout. 

Again he raised him high in air 

To meet the flying Vanar there, 

And standing on his topmost peak 

In human form began to speak: 791 

"Best of the Vanars' noblest line, 

A mighty task, O chief, is thine. 

Here for a while, I pray thee, light 

And rest upon the breezy height. 

A prince of Raghu's line was he 

Who gave his glory to the Sea, 792 

Who now to Rama's envoy shows 

High honour for the debt he owes. 

He bade me lift my buried head 

Uprising from my watery bed, 

And woo the Vanar chief to rest 

A moment on my glittering crest. 

Refresh thy weary limbs, and eat 



"At his command the uprooted hills retired 
Each to his place, they heard his voice and went 
Obsequious" 

791 The spirit of the mountain is separable from the mountain. Himalaya has 
also been represented as standing in human form on one of his own peaks. 

792 Sagar or the Sea is said to have derived its name from Sagar. The story is 
fully told in Book I, Cantos XLII, XLIII, and XLIV. 



1396 The Ramayana 

My mountain fruits for they are sweet. 
I too, O chieftain, know thee well; 
Three worlds thy famous virtues tell; 
And none, I ween, with thee may vie 
Who spring impetuous through the sky. 
To every guest, though mean and low. 
The wise respect and honour show; 
And how shall I neglect thee, how 
Slight the great guest so near me now? 
Son of the Wind, 'tis thine to share 
The might of him who shakes the air; 
And, — for he loves his offspring, — he 
Is honoured when I honour thee. 
Of yore, when Krita's age 793 was new, 
The little hills and mountains flew 
Where'er they listed, borne on wings 
More rapid than the feathered king's. 794 
But mighty terror came on all 
The Gods and saints who feared their fall. 
And Indra in his anger rent 
Their pinions with the bolts he sent. 
When in his ruthless fury he 
Levelled his flashing bolt at me, 
The great-souled Wind inclined to save, 
And laid me neath the ocean's wave. 
Thus by the favour of the sire 
I kept my cherished wings entire; 
And for this deed of kindness done 
I honour thee his noble son. 



793 Kritu is the first of the four ages of the world, the golden age, also called 
Satya. 

794 Parvata means a mountain and in the Vedas a cloud. Hence in later 
mythology the mountains have taken the place of the clouds as the objects of 
the attacks of Indra the Sun-God. The feathered king is Garuda. 



Canto I. Hanuman's Leap. 1397 

O come, thy weary limbs relieve, 
And honour due from me receive." 
"I may not rest," the Vanar cried; 
"I must not stay or turn aside. 
Yet pleased am I, thou noblest hill, 
And as the deed accept thy will." 

Thus as he spoke he lightly pressed 
With his broad hand the mountain's crest, 
Then bounded upward to the height 
Of heaven, rejoicing in his might, 
And through the fields of boundless blue, 
The pathway of his father, flew. 
Gods, saints, and heavenly bards beheld 
That flight that none had paralleled, 
Then to the Nagas' mother 795 came 
And thus addressed the sun-bright dame: 
"See, Hanuman with venturous leap 
Would spring across the mighty deep, — 
A Vanar prince, the Wind-God's seed: 
Come, Surasa, his course impede. 
In Rakshas form thy shape disguise, 
Terrific, like a hill in size: 
Let thy red eyes with fury glow, 
And high as heaven thy body grow. 
With fearful tusks the chief defy, 
That we his power and strength may try. 
He will with guile thy hold elude, 
Or own thy might, by thee subdued." 



795 "The children of Surasa were a thousand mighty many-headed serpents, 
traversing the sky." WILSON'SJFNS Vishnu Purdna, Vol. II. p. 73. 



1398 The Ramayana 

Pleased with the grateful honours paid, 
The godlike dame their words obeyed, 
Clad in a shape of terror she 
Sprang from the middle of the sea, 
And, with fierce accents that appalled 
All creatures, to the Vanar called: 
"Come, prince of Vanars, doomed to be 
My food this day by heaven's decree. 
Such boon from ages long ago 
To Brahma's favouring will I owe." 



She ceased, and Hanuman replied, 
By shape and threat unterrified: 
"Brave Rama with his Maithil spouse 
Lodged in the shade of Dandak's boughs, 
Thence Ravan king of giants stole 
[396] Sita the joy of Rama's soul. 

By Rama's high behest to her 
I go a willing messenger; 
And never shouldst them hinder one 
Who toils for Dasaratha's son. 
First captive Sita will I see, 
And him who sent and waits for me, 
Then come and to thy will submit, 
Yea, by my truth I promise it." 
"Nay, hope not thus thy life to save; 
Not such the boon that Brahma gave. 
Enter my mouth," was her reply, 
"Then forward on thy journey hie!" 7 



796 She means, says the Commentator, pursue thy journey if thou can. 



Canto I. Hanuman's Leap. 1399 

"Stretch, wider stretch thy jaws," exclaimed 
The Vanar chief, to ire inflamed; 
And, as the Rakshas near him drew, 
Ten leagues in height his stature grew. 
Then straight, her threatening jaws between, 
A gulf of twenty leagues was seen. 
To fifty leagues he waxed, and still 
Her mouth grew wider at her will. 
Then smaller than a thumb became, 
Shrunk by his power, the Vanar's frame. 797 
He leaped within, and turning round 
Sprang through the portal at a bound. 
Then hung in air a moment, while 
He thus addressed her with a smile: 
"O Daksha's child, 798 farewell at last! 
For I within thy mouth have passed. 
Thou hast the gift of Brahma's grace: 
I go, the Maithil queen to trace." 
Then, to her former shape restored, 
She thus addressed the Vanar lord: 
"Then forward to the task, and may 
Success and joy attend thy way! 
Go, and the rescued lady bring 
In triumph to her lord and king." 



97 If Milton's spirits are allowed the power of infinite self-extension and com- 
pression the same must be conceded to Valmfki's supernatural beings. Given 
the power as in Milton the result in Valmfki is perfectly consistent. 
798 "Daksha is the son of Brahma and one of the Prajapatis or divine pro- 
genitors. He had sixty daughters, twenty-seven of whom married to Kasyapa 
produced, according to one of the Indian cosmogonies, all mundane beings. 
Does the epithet, Descendant of Daksha, given to Surasa, mean that she is one 
of those daughters? I think not. This epithet is perhaps an appellation common 
to all created beings as having sprung from Daksha." GORRESSIO{FNS. 



1400 The Ramayana 

Then hosts of spirits as they gazed 
The daring of the Vanar praised. 
Through the broad fields of ether, fast 
Garud's royal self, he passed, 
The region of the cloud and rain, 
Loved by the gay Gandharva train, 
Where mid the birds that came and went 
Shone Indra's glorious bow unbent, 
And like a host of wandering stars 
Flashed the high Gods' celestial cars. 
Fierce Sinhika 799 who joyed in ill 
And changed her form to work her will, 
Descried him on his airy way 
And marked the Vanar for her prey. 
"This day at length," the demon cried, 
"My hunger shall be satisfied," 
And at his passing shadow caught 
Delighted with the cheering thought. 
The Vanar felt the power that stayed 
And held him as she grasped his shade, 
Like some tall ship upon the main 
That struggles with the wind in vain. 
Below, above, his eye he bent 
And scanned the sea and firmament. 
High from the briny deep upreared 
The monster's hideous form appeared, 
"Sugriva's tale," he cried, "is true: 
This is the demon dire to view 
Of whom the Vanar monarch told, 
Whose grasp a passing shade can hold." 
Then, as a cloud in rain-time grows 
His form, dilating, swelled and rose. 



799 Sinhika is the mother of Rami the dragon's head or ascending node, the 
chief agent in eclipses. 



Canto I. Hanuman's Leap. 1401 

Wide as the space from heaven to hell 

Her jaws she opened with a yell, 

And rushed upon her fancied prey 

With cloud-like roar to seize and slay. 

The Vanar swift as thought compressed 

His borrowed bulk of limb and chest, 

And stood with one quick bound inside 

The monstrous mouth she opened wide. 

Hid like the moon when Rahu draws 

The orb within his ravening jaws. 

Within that ample cavern pent 

The demon's form he tore and rent, 

And, from the mangled carcass freed, 

Came forth again with thought-like speed. 800 [397] 

Thus with his skill the fiend he slew, 

Then to his wonted stature grew. 

The spirits saw the demon die 

And hailed the Vanar from the sky: 

"Well hast thou fought a wondrous fight 

Nor spared the fiend's terrific might, 

On, on! perform the blameless deed, 

And in thine every wish succeed. 

Ne'er can they fail in whom combine 

Such valour, thought, and skill as thine." 



800 According to De Gubernatis, the author of the very learned, ingenious, 
and interesting though too fanciful Zoological Mythology. Hanuman here 
represents the sun entering into and escaping from a cloud. The biblical Jonah, 
according to him, typifies the same phenomenon. Sa'di, speaking of sunset, 
says Yiinas andar-i-dihdn-imdhi shud: Jonas was within the fish's mouth. See 
ADDITIONAL NOTESJFNS. 



1402 The Ramayana 

Pleased with their praises as they sang, 
Again through fields of air he sprang, 
And now, his travail wellnigh done, 
The distant shore was almost won. 
Before him on the margent stood 
In long dark line a waving wood, 
And the fair island, bright and green 
With flowers and trees, was clearly seen, 
And every babbling brook that gave 
Her lord the sea a tribute wave. 
He lighted down on Lamba's peak 
Which tinted metals stain and streak, 
And looked where Lanka's splendid town 
Shone on the mountain like a crown. 



Canto II. Lanka. 

The glorious sight a while he viewed, 
Then to the town his way pursued. 
Around the Vanar as he went 
Breathed from the wood delicious scent, 
And the soft grass beneath his feet 
With gem-like flowers was bright and sweet. 
Still as the Vanar nearer drew 
More clearly rose the town to view. 
The palm her fan-like leaves displayed, 
Priyalas 801 lent their pleasant shade, 
And mid the lower greenery far 
Conspicuous rose the Kovidar. 802 



The Buchanania Latifolia. 
802 The Bauhinia Variegata. 



Canto II. Lanka. 1403 

A thousand trees mid flowers that glowed 

Hung down their fruit's delicious load, 803 

And in their crests that rocked and swayed 

Sweet birds delightful music made. 

And there were pleasant pools whereon 

The glories of the lotus shone; 

And gleams of sparkling fountains, stirred 

By many a joyous water-bird. 

Around, in lovely gardens grew 

Blooms sweet of scent and bright of hue, 

And Lanka, seat of Ravan's sway, 

Before the wondering Vanar lay: 

With stately domes and turrets tall, 

Encircled by a golden wall, 

And moats whose waters were aglow 

With lily blossoms bright below: 

For Sita's sake defended well 

With bolt and bar and sentinel, 

And Rakshases who roamed in bands 

With ready bows in eager hands. 

He saw the stately mansions rise 

Like pale-hued clouds in autumn skies; 

Where noble streets were broad and bright, 

And banners waved on every height. 

Her gates were glorious to behold 

Rich with the shine of burnished gold: 

A lovely city planned and decked 

By heaven's creative architect, 804 

Fairest of earthly cities meet 

To be the Gods' celestial seat. 

The Vanar by the northern gate 



803 Through the power that Ravan's stern mortifications had won for him his 
trees bore flowers and fruit simultaneously. 



1404 The Ramayana 

Thus in his heart began debate 

"Our mightiest host would strive in vain 

To take this city on the main: 

A city that may well defy 

The chosen warriors of the sky; 

A city never to be won 

E'en by the arm of Raghu's son. 

Here is no hope by guile to win 

The hostile hearts of those within. 

'Twere vain to war, or bribe, or sow 

Dissension mid the Vanar foe. 

But now my search must I pursue 

Until the Maithil queen I view: 

And, when I find the captive dame, 

Make victory mine only aim. 

But, if I wear my present shape, 

How shall I enter and escape 

The Rakshas troops, their guards and spies, 

And sleepless watch of cruel eyes? 

The fiends of giant race who hold 

This mighty town are strong and bold; 

And I must labour to elude 

The fiercely watchful multitude. 

I in a shape to mock their sight 

Must steal within the town by night, 

Blind with my art the demons' eyes, 

And thus achieve my enterprise. 

How may I see, myself unseen 

Of the fierce king, the captive queen, 

And meet her in some lonely place, 

With none beside her, face to face?" 

When the bright sun had left the skies 
[398] The Vanar dwarfed his mighty size, 



Canto III. The Guardian Goddess. 1405 

And, in the straitest bounds restrained, 
The bigness of a cat retained. 805 
Then, when the moon's soft light was spread, 
Within the city's walls he sped. 



Canto III. The Guardian Goddess. 



There from the circling rampart's height 
He gazed upon the wondrous sight; 
Broad gates with burnished gold displayed, 
And courts with turkises inlaid; 
With gleaming silver, gems, and rows 
Of crystal stairs and porticoes. 
In semblance of a Rakshas dame 
The city's guardian Goddess came, — 
For she with glances sure and keen 
The entrance of a foe had seen, — 
And thus with fury in her eye 
Addressed him with an angry cry: 
"Who art thou? what has led thee, say, 
Within these walls to find thy way? 
Thou mayst not enter here in spite 
Of Ravan and his warriors' might." 
"And who art thou?" the Vanar cried, 
By form and frown unterrified, 
"Why hast thou met me by the gate, 
And chid me thus infuriate?" 



So in Paradise Lost Satan when he has stealthily entered the garden of Eden 
assumes the form of a cormorant. 



1406 The Ramayana 

He ceased: and Lanka made reply: 
"The guardian of the town am I, 
Who watch for ever to fulfil 
My lord the Rakshas monarch's will. 
But thou shalt fall this hour, and deep 
Shall be thy never-ending sleep." 

Again he spake: "In spite of thee 
This golden city will I see. 
Her gates and towers, and all the pride 
Of street and square from side to side, 
And freely wander where I please 
Amid her groves of flowering trees; 
On all her beauties sate mine eye. 
Then, as I came, will homeward hie." 

Swift with an angry roar she smote 
With her huge hand the Vanar's throat. 
The smitten Vanar, rage-impelled, 
With fist upraised the monster felled: 
But quick repented, stirred with shame 
And pity for a vanquished dame, 
When with her senses troubled, weak 
With terror, thus she strove to speak: 
"O spare me thou whose arm is strong: 
O spare me, and forgive the wrong. 
The brave that law will ne'er transgress 
That spares a woman's helplessness. 
Hear, best of Vanars, brave and bold, 
What Brahma's self of yore foretold; 
"Beware," he said, "the fatal hour 
When thou shalt own a Vanar's power. 
Then is the giants' day of fear, 
For terror and defeat are near." 



Canto IV. Within The City. 1407 

Now, Vanar chief, o'ercome by thee, 
I own the truth of heaven's decree. 
For SM's sake will ruin fall 
On Ravan, and his town, and all." 



Canto IV. Within The City. 

The guardian goddess thus subdued, 

The Vanar chief his way pursued, 

And reached the broad imperial street 

Where fresh-blown flowers were bright and sweet. 

The city seemed a fairer sky 

Where cloud-like houses rose on high, 

Whence the soft sound of tabors came 

Through many a latticed window frame, 

And ever and anon rang out 

The merry laugh and joyous shout. 

From house to house the Vanar went 

And marked each varied ornament, 

Where leaves and blossoms deftly strung 

About the crystal columns hung. 

Then soft and full and sweet and clear 

The song of women charmed his ear, 

And, blending with their dulcet tones, 

Their anklets' chime and tinkling zones. 

He heard the Rakshas minstrel sing 

The praises of their matchless king; 

And softly through the evening air 

Came murmurings of text and prayer. 

Here moved a priest with tonsured head, 

And there an eager envoy sped, 



1408 The Ramayana 

Mid crowds with hair in matted twine 
Clothed in the skins of deer and kine, — 
Whose only arms, which none might blame, 
Were blades of grass and holy flame 806 
There savage warriors roamed in bands 
With clubs and maces in their hands, 
Some dwarfish forms, some huge of size, 
With single ears and single eyes. 
Some shone in glittering mail arrayed 
With bow and mace and flashing blade; 
Fiends of all shapes and every hue, 
[399] Some fierce and foul, some fair to view. 

He saw the grisly legions wait 
In strictest watch at Ravan's gate, 
Whose palace on the mountain crest 
Rose proudly towering o'er the rest, 
Fenced with high ramparts from the foe, 
And lotus-covered moats below. 
But Hanuman, unhindered, found 
Quick passage through the guarded bound, 
Mid elephants of noblest breed, 
And gilded car and neighing steed. 

[I omit Canto V. which corresponds to chapter XI. in Gorresio's 
edition. That scholar justly observes: "The eleventh chapter, 
Description of Evening, is certainly the work of the Rhapsodists 
and an interpolation of later date. The chapter might be omitted 
without any injury to the action of the poem, and besides the me- 
tre, style, conceits and images differ from the general tenour of 
the poem; and that continual repetition of the same sounds at the 
end of each hemistich which is not exactly rime, but assonance, 



806 Priests who fought only with the weapons of religion, the sacred grass 
used like the verbena of the Romans at sacred rites and the consecrated fire to 
consume the offering of ghee. 



Canto VI. The Court. 1409 

reveals the artificial labour of a more recent age." The following 
sample will probably be enough. 

Fair shone the moon, as if to lend 
His cheering light to guide a friend, 
And, circled by the starry host, 
Looked down upon the wild sea-coast. 
The Vanar cheiftain raised his eyes, 
And saw him sailing through the skies 
Like a bright swan who joys to take 
His pastime on a silver lake; 
Fair moon that calms the mourner's pain. 
Heaves up the waters of the main, 
And o'er the life beneath him throws 
A tender light of soft repose, 
The charm that clings to Mandar's hill, 
Gleams in the sea when winds are still, 
And decks the lilly's opening flower, 
Showed in that moon her sweetest power. 

I am unable to show the difference of style in a translation.] 



Canto VI. The Court. 



The palace gates were guarded well 
By many a Rakshas sentinel, 
And far within, concealed from view, 
Were dames and female retinue 
For charm of form and face renowned; 
Whose tinkling armlets made a sound, 
Clashed by the wearers in their glee, 
Like music of a distant sea. 



1410 The Ramayana 

The hall beyond the palace gate, 

Rich with each badge of royal state, 

Where lines of noble courtiers stood, 

Showed like a lion-guarded wood. 

There the wild music rose and fell 

Of drum and tabor and of shell, 

Through chambers at each holy tide 

By solemn worship sanctified. 

Through grove and garden, undismayed, 

From house to house the Vanar strayed, 

And still his wondering glances bent 

On terrace, dome, and battlement: 

Then with a light and rapid tread 

Prahasta's 807 home he visited, 

And Kumbhakarna's 808 courtyard where 

A cloudy pile rose high in air; 

And, wandering o'er the hill, explored 

The garden of each Rakshas lord. 

Each court and grove he wandered through, 

Then nigh to Ravan's palace drew. 

She-demons watched it foul of face, 

Each armed with sword and spear and mace, 

And warrior fiends of every hue, 

A strange and fearful retinue. 

There elephants in many a row, 

The terror of the stricken foe. 

Huge Airavat, 809 deftly trained 

In battle-fields, stood ready chained. 

Fair litters on the ground were set 

Adorned with gems and golden net. 

Gay bloomy creepers clothed the walls; 



8 " 8 The brother Ravan. 

809 • 



Indra's elephant. 



Canto VII. Ravan's Palace. 1411 

Green bowers were there and picture halls, 
And chambers made for soft delight. 
Broad banners waved on every height. 
And from the roof like Mandar's hill 
The peacock's cry came loud and shrill. 810 



Canto VII. Ravan's Palace. 



He passed within the walls and gazed 

On gems and gold that round him blazed, 

And many a latticed window bright 

With turkis and with lazulite. [400] 

Through porch and ante-rooms he passed 

Each richer, fairer than the last; 

And spacious halls where lances lay, 

And bows and shells, in fair array: 

A glorious house that matched in show 

All Paradise displayed below. 

Upon the polished floor were spread 

Fresh buds and blossoms white and red, 

And women shone, a lovely crowd, 

As lightning flashes through a cloud: 

A palace splendid as the sky 

Which moon and planets glorify: 

Like earth whose towering hills unfold 

Their zones and streaks of glittering gold; 



810 Ravan's palace appears to have occupied the whole extent of ground, and 
to have contained within its outer walls the mansions of all the great Rakshas 
chiefs. Ravan's own dwelling seems to have been situated within the enchanted 
chariot Pushpak: but the description is involved and confused, and it is difficult 
to say whether the chariot was inside the palace or the palace inside the chariot. 



1412 The Ramayana 

Where waving on the mountain brows 
The tall trees bend their laden boughs, 
And every bough and tender spray 
With a bright load of bloom is gay, 
And every flower the breeze has bent 
Fills all the region with its scent. 
Near the tall palace pale of hue 
Shone lovely lakes where lilies blew, 
And lotuses with flower and bud 
Gleamed on the bosom of the flood. 
There shone with gems that flashed afar 
The marvel of the Flower-named 811 car, 
Mid wondrous dwellings still confessed 
Supreme and nobler than the rest. 
Thereon with wondrous art designed 
Were turkis birds of varied kind. 
And many a sculptured serpent rolled 
His twisted coil in burnished gold. 
And steeds were there of noblest form 
With flying feet as fleet as storm: 
And elephants with deftest skill 
Stood sculptured by a silver rill, 
Each bearing on his trunk a wreath 
Of lilies from the flood beneath. 
There Lakshmi, 812 beauty's heavenly queen, 
Wrought by the artist's skill, was seen 
Beside a flower-clad pool to stand 
Holding a lotus in her hand. 



811 Pushpak from pushpa a flower. The car has been mentioned before in 
Ravan's expedition to carry off Sita, Book III, Canto XXXV. 

812 Lakshmi is the wife of Vishnu and the Goddess of Beauty and Felicity. She 
rose, like Aphrodite, from the foam of the sea. For an account of her birth and 
beauty, see Book I, Canto XLV. 



Canto VIII. The Enchanted Car. 1413 

Canto VIII. The Enchanted Car. 



There gleamed the car with wealth untold 

Of precious gems and burnished gold; 

Nor could the Wind-God's son withdraw 

His rapt gaze from the sight he saw, 

By Visvakarma's 813 self proclaimed 

The noblest work his hand had framed. 

Uplifted in the air it glowed 

Bright as the sun's diurnal road. 

The eye might scan the wondrous frame 

And vainly seek one spot to blame, 

So fine was every part and fair 

With gems inlaid with lavish care. 

No precious stones so rich adorn 

The cars wherein the Gods are borne, 

Prize of the all-resistless might 

That sprang from pain and penance rite, 814 

Obedient to the master's will 

It moved o'er wood and towering hill, 

A glorious marvel well designed 

By Visvakarma's artist mind, 

Adorned with every fair device 

That decks the cars of Paradise. 

Swift moving as the master chose 

It flew through air or sank or rose, 815 

And in its fleetness left behind 

The fury of the rushing wind: 



813 Visvakarma is the architect of the Gods, the Hephaestos or Mulciber of the 
Indian heaven. 

814 Ravan in the resistless power which his long austerities had endowed him 
with, had conquered his brother Kuvera the God of Gold and taken from him 
his greatest treasure this enchanted car. 

815 Like Milton's heavenly car, "Itself instinct with spirit." 



1414 The Ramayana 

Meet mansion for the good and great, 
The holy, wise, and fortunate. 
Throughout the chariot's vast extent 
Were chambers wide and excellent, 
All pure and lovely to the eyes 
As moonlight shed from cloudless skies. 
Fierce goblins, rovers of the night 
Who cleft the clouds with swiftest flight 
In countless hosts that chariot drew, 
With earrings clashing as they flew. 



Canto IX. The Ladies' Bower. 



Where stately mansions rose around, 
A palace fairer still he found, 
Whose royal height and splendour showed 
Where Ravan's self, the king, abode. 
A chosen band with bow and sword 
Guarded the palace of their lord, 
Where Raksha's dames of noble race 
And many a princess fair of face 
Whom Ravan's arm had torn away 
[401] From vanquished kings in slumber lay. 

There jewelled arches high o'erhead 
An ever-changing lustre shed 
From ruby, pearl, and every gem 
On golden pillars under them. 
Delicious came the tempered air 
That breathed a heavenly summer there, 
Stealing through bloomy trees that bore 
Each pleasant fruit in endless store. 



Canto IX. The Ladies' Bower. 1415 

No check was there from jealous guard, 

No door was fast, no portal barred; 

Only a sweet air breathed to meet 

The stranger, as a host should greet 

A wanderer of his kith and kin 

And woo his weary steps within. 

He stood within a spacious hall 

With fretted roof and painted wall, 

The giant Ravan's boast and pride, 

Loved even as a lovely bride. 

'Twere long to tell each marvel there, 

The crystal floor, the jewelled stair, 

The gold, the silver, and the shine 

Of chrysolite and almandine. 

There breathed the fairest blooms of spring; 

There flashed the proud swan's silver wing, 

The splendour of whose feathers broke 

Through fragrant wreaths of aloe smoke. 

"Tis Indra's heaven," the Vanar cried, 

Gazing in joy from side to side; 

"The home of all the Gods is this, 

The mansion of eternal bliss." 

There were the softest carpets spread, 

Delightful to the sight and tread, 

Where many a lovely woman lay 

O'ercome by sleep, fatigued with play. 

The wine no longer cheered the feast, 

The sound of revelry had ceased. 

The tinkling feet no longer stirred, 

No chiming of a zone was heard. 

So when each bird has sought her nest, 

And swans are mute and wild bees rest, 

Sleep the fair lilies on the lake 

Till the sun's kiss shall bid them wake. 



1416 The Ramayana 

Like the calm field of winter's sky 

Which stars unnumbered glorify, 

So shone and glowed the sumptuous room 

With living stars that chased the gloom. 

"These are the stars," the chieftain cried, 

"In autumn nights that earth-ward glide, 

In brighter forms to reappear 

And shine in matchless lustre here." 

With wondering eyes a while he viewed 

Each graceful form and attitude. 

One lady's head was backward thrown, 

Bare was her arm and loose her zone. 

The garland that her brow had graced 

Hung closely round another's waist. 

Here gleamed two little feet all bare 

Of anklets that had sparkled there, 

Here lay a queenly dame at rest 

In all her glorious garments dressed. 

There slept another whose small hand 

Had loosened every tie and band, 

In careless grace another lay 

With gems and jewels cast away, 

Like a young creeper when the tread 

Of the wild elephant has spread 

Confusion and destruction round, 

And cast it flowerless to the ground. 

Here lay a slumberer still as death, 

Save only that her balmy breath 

Raised ever and anon the lace 

That floated o'er her sleeping face. 

There, sunk in sleep, an amorous maid 

Her sweet head on a mirror laid, 

Like a fair lily bending till 

Her petals rest upon the rill. 



Canto X. Ravan Asleep. 1417 

Another black-eyed damsel pressed 
Her lute upon her heaving breast, 
As though her loving arms were twined 
Round him for whom her bosom pined. 
Another pretty sleeper round 
A silver vase her arms had wound, 
That seemed, so fresh and fair and young 
A wreath of flowers that o'er it hung. 
In sweet disorder lay a throng 
Weary of dance and play and song, 
Where heedless girls had sunk to rest 
One pillowed on another's breast, 
Her tender cheek half seen beneath 
Bed roses of the falling wreath, 
The while her long soft hair concealed 
The beauties that her friend revealed. 
With limbs at random interlaced 
Round arm and leg and throat and waist, 
That wreath of women lay asleep 
Like blossoms in a careless heap. 



Canto X. Ravan Asleep. 



Apart a dais of crystal rose 

With couches spread for soft repose, 

Adorned with gold and gems of price 

Meet for the halls of Paradise. 

A canopy was o'er them spread 

Pale as the light the moon beams shed, 



1418 The Ramayana 

And female figures, 816 deftly planned, 
The faces of the sleepers fanned, 
There on a splendid couch, asleep 
On softest skins of deer and sheep. 
Dark as a cloud that dims the day 
The monarch of the giants lay, 
Perfumed with sandal's precious scent 
[402] And gay with golden ornament. 

His fiery eyes in slumber closed, 
In glittering robes the king reposed 
Like Mandar's mighty hill asleep 
With flowery trees that clothe his steep. 
Near and more near the Vanar 
The monarch of the fiends to view, 
And saw the giant stretched supine 
Fatigued with play and drunk with wine. 
While, shaking all the monstrous frame, 
His breath like hissing serpents' came. 
With gold and glittering bracelets gay 
His mighty arms extended lay 
Huge as the towering shafts that bear 
The flag of Indra high in air. 
Scars by Airavat's tusk impressed 
Showed red upon his shaggy breast. 
And on his shoulders were displayed 
The dints the thunder-bolt had made. 817 
The spouses of the giant king 
Around their lord were slumbering, 
And, gay with sparkling earrings, shone 



816 Women, says Valmfki. But the Commentator says that automatic figures 
only are meant. Women would have seen Hanuman and given the alarm. 

817 Ravan had fought against Indra and the Gods, and his body was still scarred 
by the wounds inflicted by the tusks of Indra's elephant and by the fiery bolts 
of the Thunderer. 



Canto XI. The Banquet Hall. 1419 

Fair as the moon to look upon. 
There by her husband's side was seen 
Mandodari the favourite queen, 
The beauty of whose youthful face 
Beamed a soft glory through the place. 
The Vanar marked the dame more fair 
Than all the royal ladies there, 
And thought, "These rarest beauties speak 
The matchless dame I come to seek. 
Peerless in grace and splendour, she 
The Maithil queen must surely be." 



Canto XI. The Banquet Hall. 



But soon the baseless thought was spurned 
And longing hope again returned: 
"No: Rama's wife is none of these, 
No careless dame that lives at ease. 
Her widowed heart has ceased to care 
For dress and sleep and dainty fare. 
She near a lover ne'er would lie 
Though Indra wooed her from the sky. 
Her own, her only lord, whom none 
Can match in heaven, is Raghu's son." 



1420 The Ramayana 

Then to the banquet hall intent 
On strictest search his steps he bent. 
He passed within the door, and found 
Fair women sleeping on the ground, 
Where wearied with the song, perchance, 
The merry game, the wanton dance, 
Each girl with wine and sleep oppressed 
Had sunk her drooping head to rest. 
That spacious hall from side to side 
With noblest fare was well supplied, 
There quarters of the boar, and here 
Roast of the buffalo and deer, 
There on gold plate, untouched as yet 
The peacock and the hen were set. 
There deftly mixed with salt and curd 
Was meat of many a beast and bird, 
Of kid and porcupine and hare, 
And dainties of the sea and air. 
There wrought of gold, ablaze with shine 
Of precious stones, were cups of wine. 
Through court and bower and banquet hall 
The Vanar passed and viewed them all; 
From end to end, in every spot, 
For Sita searched, but found her not. 



Canto XII. The Search Renewed. 



Again the Vanar chief began 
Each chamber, bower, and hall to scan. 
In vain: he found not her he sought, 
And pondered thus in bitter thought: 



Canto XII. The Search Renewed. 1421 

"Ah me the Maithil queen is slain: 

She, ever true and free from stain, 

The fiend's entreaty has denied, 

And by his cruel hand has died. 

Or has she sunk, by terror killed, 

When first she saw the palace filled 

With female monsters evil miened 

Who wait upon the robber fiend? 

No battle fought, no might displayed, 

In vain this anxious search is made; 

Nor shall my steps, made slow by shame, 

Because I failed to find the dame, 

Back to our lord the king be bent, 

For he is swift to punishment. 

In every bower my feet have been, 

The dames of Ravan have I seen; 

But Rama's spouse I seek in vain, 

And all my toil is fruitless pain. 

How shall I meet the Vanar band 

I left upon the ocean strand? 

How, when they bid me speak, proclaim 

These tidings of defeat and shame? 

How shall I look on Angad's eye? 

What words will Jambavan reply? 

Yet dauntless hearts will never fail 

To win success though foes assail, 

And I this sorrow will subdue 

And search the palace through and through, 

Exploring with my cautious tread 

Each spot as yet unvisited." 

Again he turned him to explore 
Each chamber, hall, and corridor, 
And arbour bright with scented bloom, 



1422 The Ramayana 

[403] And lodge and cell and picture-room. 

With eager eye and noiseless feet 
He passed through many a cool retreat 
Where women lay in slumber drowned; 
But Sita still was nowhere found. 



Canto XIII. Despair And Hope. 

Then rapid as the lightning's flame 
From Ravan's halls the Vanar came. 
Each lingering hope was cold and dead, 
And thus within his heart he said: 
"Alas, my fruitless search is done: 
Long have I toiled for Raghu's son; 
And yet with all my care have seen 
No traces of the ravished queen. 
It may be, while the giant through 
The lone air with his captive flew, 
The Maithil lady, tender-souled, 
Slipped struggling from the robber's hold, 
And the wild sea is rolling now 
O'er Sita of the beauteous brow. 
Or did she perish of alarm 
When circled by the monster's arm? 
Or crushed, unable to withstand 
The pressure of that monstrous hand? 
Or when she spurned his suit with scorn, 
Her tender limbs were rent and torn. 
And she, her virtue unsubdued, 
Was slaughtered for the giant's food. 
Shall I to Raghu's son relate 



Canto XIII. Despair And Hope. 1423 

His well-beloved consort's fate, 

My crime the same if I reveal 

The mournful story or conceal? 

If with no happier tale to tell 

I seek our mountain citadel, 

How shall I face our lord the king, 

And meet his angry questioning? 

How shall I greet my friends, and brook 

The muttered taunt, the scornful look? 

How to the son of Raghu go 

And kill him with my tale of woe? 

For sure the mournful tale I bear 

Will strike him dead with wild despair. 

And Lakshman ever fond and true, 

Will, undivided, perish too. 

Bharat will learn his brother's fate, 

And die of grief disconsolate, 

And sad Satrughna with a cry 

Of anguish on his corpse will die. 

Our king Sugriva, ever found 

True to each bond in honour bound, 

Will mourn the pledge he vainly gave, 

And die with him he could not save. 

Then Ruma his devoted wife 

For her dead lord will leave her life, 

And Tara, widowed and forlorn, 

Will die in anguish, sorrow-worn. 

On Angad too the blow will fall 

Killing the hope and joy of all. 

The ruin of their prince and king 

The Vanars' souls with woe will wring. 

And each, overwhelmed with dark despair, 

Will beat his head and rend his hair. 

Each, graced and honoured long, will miss 



1424 The Ramayana 

His careless life of easy bliss, 
In happy troops will play no more 
On breezy rock and shady shore, 
But with his darling wife and child 
Will seek the mountain top, and wild 
With hopeless desolation, throw 
Himself, his wife, and babe, below. 
Ah no: unless the dame I find 
I ne'er will meet my Vanar kind. 
Here rather in some distant dell 
A lonely hermit will I dwell, 
Where roots and berries will supply 
My humble wants until I die; 
Or on the shore will raise a pyre 
And perish in the kindled fire. 
Or I will strictly fast until 
With slow decay my life I kill, 
And ravening dogs and birds of air 
The limbs of Hanuman shall tear. 
Here will I die, but never bring 
Destruction on my race and king. 
But still unsearched one grove I see 
With many a bright Asoka tree. 
There will I enter in, and through 
The tangled shade my search renew. 
Be glory to the host on high, 
The Sun and Moon who light the sky, 
The Vasus 818 and the Maruts' 819 train, 



818 The Vasus are a class of eight deities, originally personifications of natural 
phenomena. 



Canto XIV. The Asoka Grove. 1425 

Adityas 820 and the Asvins 821 twain. 
So may I win success, and bring 
The lady back with triumphing." 



Canto XIV. The Asoka Grove. 



He cleared the barrier at a bound; 

He stood within the pleasant ground, [404] 

And with delighted eyes surveyed 

The climbing plants and varied shade, 

He saw unnumbered trees unfold 

The treasures of their pendent gold, 

As, searching for the Maithil queen, 

He strayed through alleys soft and green; 

And when a spray he bent or broke 

Some little bird that slept awoke. 

Whene'er the breeze of morning blew, 

Where'er a startled peacock flew, 

The gaily coloured branches shed 

Their flowery rain upon his head 

That clung around the Vanar till 

He seemed a blossom-covered hill, 822 

The earth, on whose fair bosom lay 

The flowers that fell from every spray, 

Was glorious as a lovely maid 

In all her brightest robes arrayed, 



820 The Adityas originally seven deities of the heavenly sphere of whom V arena 
is the chief. The name Aditya was afterwards given to any God, specially to 
Siirya the Sun. 

821 The Asvins are the Heavenly Twins, the Castor and Pollux of the Hindus. 

822 The poet forgets that Hanuman has reduced himself to the size of a cat. 



1426 The Ramayana 

He saw the breath of morning shake 

The lilies on the rippling lake 

Whose waves a pleasant lapping made 

On crystal steps with gems inlaid. 

Then roaming through the enchanted ground, 

A pleasant hill the Vanar found, 

And grottoes in the living stone 

With grass and flowery trees o'ergrown. 

Through rocks and boughs a brawling rill 

Leapt from the bosom of the hill, 

Like a proud beauty when she flies 

From her love's arms with angry eyes. 

He clomb a tree that near him grew 
And leafy shade around him threw. 
"Hence," thought the Vanar, "shall I see 
The Maithil dame, if here she be, 
These lovely trees, this cool retreat 
Will surely tempt her wandering feet. 
Here the sad queen will roam apart. 
And dream of Rama in her heart." 



Canto XV. Sita. 



Fair as Kailasa white with snow 

He saw a palace flash and glow, 

A crystal pavement gem-inlaid, 

And coral steps and colonnade, 

And glittering towers that kissed the skies, 

Whose dazzling splendour charmed his eyes. 

There pallid, with neglected dress, 



Canto XVI. Hanuman's Lament. 1427 

Watched close by fiend and giantess, 
Her sweet face thin with constant flow 
Of tears, with fasting and with woe; 
Pale as the young moon's crescent when 
The first faint light returns to men: 
Dim as the flame when clouds of smoke 
The latent glory hide and choke; 
Like Rohini the queen of stars 
Oppressed by the red planet Mars; 
From her dear friends and husband torn, 
Amid the cruel fiends, forlorn, 
Who fierce-eyed watch around her kept, 
A tender woman sat and wept. 
Her sobs, her sighs, her mournful mien, 
Her glorious eyes, proclaimed the queen. 
"This, this is she," the Vanar cried, 
"Fair as the moon and lotus-eyed, 
I saw the giant Ravan bear 
A captive through the fields of air. 
Such was the beauty of the dame; 
Her form, her lips, her eyes the same. 
This peerless queen whom I behold 
Is Rama's wife with limbs of gold. 
Best of the sons of men is he, 
And worthy of her lord is she." 



Canto XVI. Hanuman's Lament. 



1428 The Ramayana 

Then, all his thoughts on Sita bent, 
The Vanar chieftain made lament: 
"The queen to Rama's soul endeared, 
By Lakshman's pious heart revered, 
Lies here, — for none may strive with Fate, 
A captive, sad and desolate. 
The brothers' might full well she knows, 
And bravely bears the storm of woes, 
As swelling Ganga in the rains 
The rush of every flood sustains. 
Her lord, for her, fierce Bali slew, 
Viradha's monstrous might o'erthrew, 
For her the fourteen thousand slain 
In Janasthan bedewed the plain. 
And if for her Ikshvaku's son 
Destroyed the world 'twere nobly done. 
This, this is she, so far renowned, 
Who sprang from out the furrowed ground, 823 
Child of the high-souled king whose sway 
The men of Mithila obey: 
The glorious lady wooed and won 
By Dasaratha's noblest son; 
And now these sad eyes look on her 
Mid hostile fiends a prisoner. 
From home and every bliss she fled 
By wifely love and duty led, 
And heedless of a wanderer's woes, 
A life in lonely forests chose. 
This, this is she so fair of mould. 
[405] Whose limbs are bright as burnished gold. 

Whose voice was ever soft and mild, 
Who sweetly spoke and sweetly smiled. 



823 Sita "not of woman born," was found by King Janak as he was turning up 
the ground in preparation for a sacrifice. See Book II, Canto CXVIII. 



Canto XVII. Sita's Guard. 1429 

O, what is Rama's misery! how 
He longs to see his darling now ! 
Pining for one of her fond looks 
As one athirst for water brooks. 
Absorbed in woe the lady sees 
No Rakshas guard, no blooming trees. 
Her eyes are with her thoughts, and they 
Are fixed on Rama far away." 



Canto XVII. Sita's Guard. 



His pitying eyes with tears bedewed, 
The weeping queen again he viewed, 
And saw around the prisoner stand 
Her demon guard, a fearful band. 
Some earless, some with ears that hung 
Low as their feet and loosely swung: 
Some fierce with single ears and eyes, 
Some dwarfish, some of monstrous size: 
Some with their dark necks long and thin 
With hair upon the knotty skin: 
Some with wild locks, some bald and bare, 
Some covered o'er with bristly hair: 
Some tall and straight, some bowed and bent 
With every foul disfigurement: 
All black and fierce with eyes of fire, 
Ruthless and stern and swift to ire: 
Some with the jackal's jaw and nose, 
Some faced like boars and buffaloes: 
Some with the heads of goats and kine, 
Of elephants, and dogs, and swine: 



1430 The Ramayana 

With lions' lips and horses' brows, 

They walked with feet of mules and cows: 

Swords, maces, clubs, and spears they bore 

In hideous hands that reeked with gore, 

And, never sated, turned afresh 

To bowls of wine and piles of flesh. 

Such were the awful guards who stood 

Round Sita in that lovely wood, 

While in her lonely sorrow she 

Wept sadly neath a spreading tree. 

He watched the spouse of Rama there 

Regardless of her tangled hair, 

Her jewels stripped from neck and limb, 

Decked only with her love of him. 



Canto XVIII. Ravan. 



While from his shelter in the boughs 
The Vanar looked on Rama's spouse 
He heard the gathered giants raise 
The solemn hymn of prayer and praise.- 
Priests skilled in rite and ritual, who 
The Vedas and their branches 824 knew. 
Then, as loud strains of music broke 
His sleep, the giant monarch woke. 
Swift to his heart the thought returned 



824 The six Angas or subordinate branches of the Vedas are 1. Sikshd, the 
science of proper articulation and pronunciation: 2. Chhandas, metre: 3. 
Vydkarana, linguistic analysis or grammar: 4. Nirukta, explanation of difficult 
Vedic words: 5. Jyotishtom, Astronomy, or rather the Vedic Calendar: 6. 
Kalpa, ceremonial. 



Canto XVIII. Ravan. 1431 

Of the fair queen for whom he burned; 

Nor could the amorous fiend control 

The passion that absorbed his soul. 

In all his brightest garb arrayed 

He hastened to that lovely shade, 

Where glowed each choicest flower and fruit, 

And the sweet birds were never mute, 

And tall deer bent their heads to drink 

On the fair streamlet's grassy brink. 

Near that Asoka grove he drew, — 

A hundred dames his retinue. 

Like Indra with the thousand eyes 

Girt with the beauties of the skies. 

Some walked beside their lord to hold 

The chouries, fans, and lamps of gold. 

And others purest water bore 

In golden urns, and paced before. 

Some carried, piled on golden plates, 

Delicious food of dainty cates; 

Some wine in massive bowls whereon 

The fairest gems resplendent shone. 

Some by the monarch's side displayed, 

Wrought like a swan, a silken shade: 

Another beauty walked behind, 

The sceptre to her care assigned. 

Around the monarch gleamed the crowd 

As lightnings flash about a cloud, 

And each made music as she went 

With zone and tinkling ornament. 

Attended thus in royal state 

The monarch reached the garden gate, 

While gold and silver torches, fed 

With scented oil a soft light shed. 825 [406] 



825 There appears to be some confusion of time here. It was already morning 



1432 The Ramayana 

He, while the flame of fierce desire 
Burnt in his eyes like kindled fire, 
Seemed Love incarnate in his pride, 
His bow and arrows laid aside. 826 
His robe, from spot and blemish free 
Like Amrit foamy from the sea, 827 
Hung down in many a loosened fold 
Inwrought with flowers and bright with gold. 
The Vanar from his station viewed, 
Amazed, the wondrous multitude, 
Where, in the centre of that ring 
Of noblest women, stood the king, 
As stands the full moon fair to view, 
Girt by his starry retinue. 



Canto XIX. Sita's Fear. 



Then o'er the lady's soul and frame 
A sudden fear and trembling came, 
When, glowing in his youthful pride, 
She saw the monarch by her side. 
Silent she sat, her eyes depressed, 
Her soft arms folded o'er her breast, 
And, — all she could, — her beauties screened 
From the bold gazes of the fiend. 



when Hanuman entered the grove, and the torches would be needless. 
826 Ravan is one of those beings who can "climb them as they will," and can of 
course assume the loveliest form to please human eyes as well as the terrific 
shape that suits the king of the Rakshases. 

27 White and lovely as the Arant or nectar recovered from the depths of the 
Milky Sea when churned by the assembled Gods. See Book I, Canto XLV. 



Canto XX. Ravan's Wooing. 1433 

There where the wild she-demons kept 

Their watch around, she sighed and wept. 

Then, like a severed bough, she lay 

Prone on the bare earth in dismay. 

The while her thoughts on love's fleet wings 

Flew to her lord the best of kings. 

She fell upon the ground, and there 

Lay struggling with her wild despair, 

Sad as a lady born again 

To misery and woe and pain, 

Now doomed to grief and low estate, 

Once noble fair and delicate: 

Like faded light of holy lore, 

Like Hope when all her dreams are o'er; 

Like ruined power and rank debased, 

Like majesty of kings disgraced: 

Like worship foiled by erring slips, 

The moon that labours in eclipse; 

A pool with all her lilies dead, 

An army when its king has fled: 

So sad and helpless wan and worn, 

She lay among the fiends forlorn. 



Canto XX. Ravan's Wooing. 

With amorous look and soft address 
The fiend began his suit to press: 
"Why wouldst thou, lady lotus-eyed, 
From my fond glance those beauties hide? 
Mine eager suit no more repel: 
But love me, for I love thee well. 



1434 The Ramayana 

Dismiss, sweet dame, dismiss thy fear; 

No giant and no man is near. 

Ours is the right by force to seize 

What dames soe'er our fancy please. 828 

But I with rude hands will not touch 

A lady whom I love so much. 

Fear not, dear queen: no fear is nigh: 

Come, on thy lover's love rely, 

Some little sign of favor show, 

Nor lie enamoured of thy woe. 

Those limbs upon that cold earth laid, 

Those tresses twined in single braid, 829 

The fast and woe that wear thy frame, 

Beseem not thee, O beauteous dame. 

For thee the fairest wreaths were meant, 

The sandal and the aloe's scent, 

Rich ornaments and pearls of price, 

And vesture meet for Paradise. 

With dainty cates shouldst thou be fed, 

And rest upon a sumptuous bed. 

And festive joys to thee belong, 

The music, and the dance and song. 

Rise, pearl of women, rise and deck 

With gems and chains thine arms and neck. 

Shall not the dame I love be seen 

In vesture worthy of a queen? 



,28 Ravan in his magic car carrying off the most beautiful women reminds us 
of the magician in Orlando Furioso, possesor of the flying horse. 

"Volando talor s'alza ne le stelle, 
E poi quasi talor la terra rade; 
E ne porta con lui tutte le belle 
Donne che trova per quelle contrade." 

29 Indian women twisted their long hair in a single braid as a sign of mourning 
for their absent husbands. 



Canto XX. Ravan's Wooing. 1435 

Methinks when thy sweet form was made 

His hand the wise Creator stayed; 

For never more did he design 

A beauty meet to rival thine. 

Come, let us love while yet we may, 

For youth will fly and charms decay, 

Come cast thy grief and fear aside, 

And be my love, my chosen bride. 

The gems and jewels that my hand 

Has reft from every plundered land, — 

To thee I give them all this day, 

And at thy feet my kingdom lay. [407] 

The broad rich earth will I o'errun, 

And leave no town unconquered, none; 

Then of the whole an offering make 

To Janak, 830 dear, for thy sweet sake. 

In all the world no power I see 

Of God or man can strive with me. 

Of old the Gods and Asurs set 

In terrible array I met: 

Their scattered hosts to earth I beat, 

And trod their flags beneath my feet. 

Come, taste of bliss and drink thy fill, 

And rule the slave who serves thy will. 

Think not of wretched Rama: he 

Is less than nothing now to thee. 

Stript of his glory, poor, dethroned, 

A wanderer by his friends disowned, 

On the cold earth he lays his head, 

Or is with toil and misery dead. 

And if perchance he lingers yet, 

His eyes on thee shall ne'er be set. 



830 Janak, king of Mithila, was Sita's father. 



1436 The Ramayana 

Could he, that mighty monarch, who 

Was named Hiranyakasipu, 

Could he who wore the garb of gold 

Win Glory back from Indra's hold? 831 

O lady of the lovely smile, 

Whose eyes the sternest heart beguile, 

In all thy radiant beauty dressed 

My heart and soul thou ravishest. 

What though thy robe is soiled and worn, 

And no bright gems thy limbs adorn, 

Thou unadorned art dearer far 

Than all my loveliest consorts are. 

My royal home is bright and fair; 

A thousand beauties meet me there, 

But come, my glorious love, and be 

The queen of all those dames and me." 



Canto XXI. Sita's Scorn. 



She thought upon her lord and sighed, 
And thus in gentle tones replied: 
"Beseems thee not, O King, to woo 
A matron, to her husband true. 
Thus vainly one might hope by sin 
And evil deeds success to win. 
Shall I, so highly born, disgrace 
My husband's house, my royal race? 



831 Hiranyakasipu was a king of the Daityas celebrated for his blasphemous 
impieties. When his pious son Prahlada praised Vishnu the Daitya tried to kill 
him, when the God appeared in the incarnation of the man-lion and tore the 
tyrant to pieces. 



Canto XXI. Sita's Scorn. 1437 

Shall I, a true and loyal dame, 
Defile my soul with deed of shame?" 

Then on the king her back she turned, 
And answered thus the prayer she spurned: 
"Turn, Ravan, turn thee from thy sin; 
Seek virtue's paths and walk therein. 
To others dames be honour shown; 
Protect them as thou wouldst thine own. 
Taught by thyself, from wrong abstain 
Which, wrought on thee, thy heart would pain. 832 
Beware: this lawless love of thine 
Will ruin thee and all thy line; 
And for thy sin, thy sin alone, 
Will Lanka perish overthrown. 
Dream not that wealth and power can sway 
My heart from duty's path to stray. 
Linked like the Day-God and his shine, 
I am my lord's and he is mine. 
Repent thee of thine impious deed; 
To Rama's side his consort lead. 
Be wise; the hero's friendship gain, 
Nor perish in his fury slain. 
Go, ask the God of Death to spare, 
Or red bolt flashing through the air, 
But look in vain for spell or charm 
To stay my Rama's vengeful arm. 
Thou, when the hero bends his bow, 
Shalt hear the clang that heralds woe, 
Loud as the clash when clouds are rent 



832 Do unto others as thou wouldst they should do unto thee, is a precept 
frequently occurring in the old Indian poems. This charity is to embrace not 
human beings only, but bird and beast as well: "He prayeth best who loveth 
best all things both great and small." 



[408] 



1438 The Ramayana 

And Indra's bolt to earth is sent. 

Then shall his furious shafts be sped, 

Each like a snake with fiery head, 

And in their flight shall hiss and flame 

Marked with the mighty archer's name. 833 

Then in the fiery deluge all 

Thy giants round their king shall fall." 



Canto XXII. Ravan's Threat. 



Then anger swelled in Ravan's breast, 
Who fiercely thus the dame addressed: 
"Tis ever thus: in vain we sue 
To woman, and her favour woo. 
A lover's humble words impel 
Her wayward spirit to rebel. 
The love of thee that fills my soul 
Still keeps my anger in control, 
As charioteers with bit and rein 
The swerving of the steed restrain. 
The love that rules me bids me spare 
Thy forfeit life, O thou most fair. 
For this, O Sita, have I borne 



833 It was the custom of Indian warriors to mark their arrows with their ciphers 
or names, and it seems to have been regarded as a point of honour to give an 
enemy the satisfaction of knowing who had shot at him. This passage however 
contains, if my memory serves me well, the first mention in the poem of this 
practice, and as arrows have been so frequently mentioned and described with 
almost every conceivable epithet, its occurrence here seems suspicious. No 
mention of, or allusion to writing has hitherto occurred in the poem. 



Canto XXII. Ravan's Threat. 1439 

The keen reproach, the bitter scorn, 
And the fond love thou boastest yet 
For that poor wandering anchoret; 
Else had the words which thou hast said 
Brought death upon thy guilty head. 
Two months, fair dame, I grant thee still 
To bend thee to thy lover's will. 
If when that respite time is fled 
Thou still refuse to share my bed, 
My cooks shall mince thy limbs with steel 
And serve thee for my morning meal." 834 

The minstrel daughters of the skies 
Looked on her woe with pitying eyes, 
And sun-bright children of the Gods 835 
Consoled the queen with smiles and nods. 
She saw, and with her heart at ease, 
Addressed the fiend in words like these; 
"Hast thou no friend to love thee, none 
In all this isle to bid thee shun 
The ruin which thy crime will bring 
On thee and thine, O impious King? 
Who in all worlds save thee could woo 
Me, Rama's consort pure and true, 
As though he tempted with his love 
Queen Sachi 836 on her throne above? 
How canst thou hope, vile wretch, to fly 
The vengeance that e'en now is nigh, 
When thou hast dared, untouched by shame, 
To press thy suit on Rama's dame? 



834 This threat in the same words occurs in Book III, Canto LVI. 

835 Ravan carried off and kept in his palace not only earthly princesses but the 
daughters of Gods and Gandharvas. 



1440 The Ramayana 

Where woods are thick and grass is high 

A lion and a hare may lie; 

My Rama is the lion, thou 

Art the poor hare beneath the bough. 

Thou railest at the lord of men, 

But wilt not stand within his ken. 

What! is that eye unstricken yet 

Whose impious glance on me was set? 

Still moves that tongue that would not spare 

The wife of Dasaratha's heir?" 

Then, hissing like a furious snake, 
The fiend again to Sita spake: 
"Deaf to all prayers and threats art thou, 
Devoted to thy senseless vow. 
No longer respite will I give, 
And thou this day shalt cease to live; 
For I, as sunlight kills the morn, 
Will slay thee for thy scathe and scorn." 

The Rakshas guard was summoned: all 
The monstrous crew obeyed the call, 
And hastened to the king to take 
The orders which he fiercely spake: 
"See that ye guard her well, and tame, 
Like some wild thing, the stubborn dame, 
Until her haughty soul be bent 
By mingled threat and blandishment." 837 

The monsters heard: away he strode, 
And passed within his queens' abode. 



Canto XXIII. The Demons' Threats. 144 1 

Canto XXIII. The Demons' Threats. 



Then round the helpless Sita drew 
With fiery eyes the hideous crew, 
And thus assailed her, all and each, 
With insult, taunt, and threatening speech: 
"What! can it be thou prizest not 
This happy chance, this glorious lot, 
To be the chosen wife of one 
So strong and great, Pulastya's son? 
Pulastya — thus have sages told — 
Is mid the Lords of Life 838 enrolled. 
Lord Brahma's mind-born son was he, 
Fourth of that glorious company. 
Visravas from Pulastya sprang, — 
Through all the worlds his glory rang. 
And of Visravas, large-eyed dame! 
Our king the mighty Ravan came. 
His happy consort thou mayst be: 
Scorn not the words we say to thee." 

One awful demon, fiery-eyed, 
Stood by the Maithil queen and cried: 
'Come and be his, if thou art wise, 
Who smote the sovereign of the skies, 
And made the thirty Gods and three, 839 
O'ercome in furious battle, flee. [409] 



38 Prajapatis are the ten lords of created beings first created by Brahma; 
somewhat like the Demiurgi of the Gnostics. 

839 "j^ j s me num ber of the Vedic divinities mentioned in the Rig-veda. In 
Ashtaka I. Sukta XXXIV, the Rishi Hiranyastupa invoking the Asvins says: A 
Nasatya tribhirekadasairiha devebniryatam: 'O Nasatyas (Asvins) come hither 
with the thrice eleven Gods.' And in Sukta XLV, the Rishi Praskanva address- 
ing his hymn to Agni (ignis, fire), thus invokes him: 'Lord of the red steeds, 



1442 The Ramayana 

Thy lover turns away with scorn 
From wives whom grace and youth adorn. 
Thou art his chosen consort, thou 
Shall be his pride and darling now." 

Another, Vikata by name, 
In words like these addressed the dame: 
"The king whose blows, in fury dealt, 
The Nagas 840 and Gandharvas 841 felt, 
In battle's fiercest brunt subdued, 
Has stood by thee and humbly wooed. 
And wilt thou in thy folly miss 
The glory of a love like this? 
Scared by his eye the sun grows chill, 
The wanderer wind is hushed and still. 
The rains at his command descend, 
And trees with new-blown blossoms bend. 
His word the hosts of demons fear, 
And wilt thou, dame, refuse to hear? 
Be counselled; with his will comply, 
Or, lady, thou shalt surely die." 



propitiated by our prayers lead hither the thirty-three Gods.' This number must 
certainly have been the actual number in the early days of the Vedic religion: 
although it appears probable enough that the thirty-three Vedic divinities could 
not then be found co-ordinated in so systematic a way as they were arranged 
more recently by the authors of the Upanishads. In the later ages of Bramanism 
the number went on increasing without measure by successive mythical and 
religious creations which peopled the Indian Olympus with abstract beings of 
every kind. But through lasting veneration of the word of the Veda the custom 
regained of giving the name of 'the thirty-three Gods' to the immense phalanx 
of the multiplied deities." GORRESIO.JFNS 

840 Serpent-Gods who dwell in the regions under the earth. 

841 In the mythology of the epics the Gandharvas are the heavenly singers or 
musicians who form the orchestra at the banquets of the Gods, and they belong 
to the heaven of India in whose battles they share. 



Canto XXIV. Sita's Reply. 1443 

Canto XXIV. Sita's Reply. 



Still with reproaches rough and rude 
Those fiends the gentle queen pursued: 
"What! can so fair a life displease, 
To dwell with him in joyous ease? 
Dwell in his bowers a happy queen 
In silk and gold and jewels' sheen? 
Still must thy woman fancy cling 
To Rama and reject our king? 
Die in thy folly, or forget 
That wretched wandering anchoret. 
Come, SM, in luxurious bowers 
Spend with our lord thy happy hours; 
The mighty lord who makes his own 
The treasures of the worlds o'erthrown." 



Then, as a tear bedewed her eye, 
The hapless lady made reply: 
"I loathe, with heart and soul detest 
The shameful life your words suggest. 
Eat, if you will, this mortal frame: 
My soul rejects the sin and shame. 
A homeless wanderer though he be, 
In him my lord, my life I see, 
And, till my earthly days be done, 
Will cling to great Ikshvaku's son." 



1444 The Ramayana 

Then with fierce eyes on Sita set 
They cried again with taunt and threat: 
Each licking with her fiery tongue 
The lip that to her bosom hung, 
And menacing the lady's life 
With axe, or spear or murderous knife: 
"Hear, Sita, and our words obey, 
Or perish by our hands to-day. 
Thy love for Raghu's son forsake, 
And Ravan for thy husband take, 
Or we will rend thy limbs apart 
And banquet on thy quivering heart. 
Now from her body strike the head, 
And tell the king the dame is dead. 
Then by our lord's commandment she 
A banquet for our band shall be. 
Come, let the wine be quickly brought 
That frees each heart from saddening thought. 
Then to the western gate repair, 
And we will dance and revel there." 



Canto XXV. Sita's Lament. 



On the bare earth the lady sank, 
And trembling from their presence shrank 
Like a strayed fawn, when night is dark, 
[410] And hungry wolves around her bark. 



Canto XXV. SM's Lament. 1445 

Then to a shady tree she crept, 
And thought upon her lord and wept. 
By fear and bitter woe oppressed 
She bathed the beauties of her breast 
With her hot tears' incessant flow, 
And found no respite from her woe. 
As shakes a plantain in the breeze 
She shook, and fell on trembling knees; 
While at each demon's furious look 
Her cheek its native hue forsook. 
She lay and wept and made her moan 
In sorrow's saddest undertone, 
And, wild with grief, with fear appalled, 
On Rama and his brother called: 
"O dear Kausalya, 842 hear me cry! 
Sweet Queen Sumitra, 843 list my sigh! 
True is the saw the wise declare: 
Death comes not to relieve despair. 
'Tis vain for dame or man to pray; 
Death will not hear before his day; 
Since I, from Rama's sight debarred, 
And tortured by my cruel guard, 
Still live in hopeless woe to grieve 
And loathe the life I may not leave, 
Here, like a poor deserted thing, 
My limbs upon the ground I fling, 
And, like a bark beneath the blast, 
Shall sink oppressed with woes at last. 
Ah, blest are they, supremely blest, 
Whose eyes upon my lord may rest; 
Who mark his lion port, and hear 
His gentle speech that charms the ear. 



1446 The Ramayana 

Alas, what antenatal crime, 
What trespass of forgotten time 
Weighs on my soul, and bids me bow 
Beneath this load of misery now?" 



Canto XXVI. SM's Lament. 



"I Rama's wife, on that sad day, 
By Ravan's arm was borne away, 
Seized, while I sat and feared no ill, 
By him who wears each form at will. 
A helpless captive, left forlorn 
To demons' threats and taunts and scorn, 
Here for my lord I weep and sigh, 
And worn with woe would gladly die. 
For what is life to me afar 
From Rama of the mighty car? 
The robber in his fruitless sin 
Would hope his captive's love to win. 
My meaner foot shall never touch 
The demon whom I loathe so much. 
The senseless fool ! he knows me not, 
Nor the proud soul his love would blot. 
Yea, limb from limb will I be rent, 
But never to his prayer consent; 
Be burnt and perish in the fire, 
But never meet his base desire. 
My lord was grateful, true and wise, 
And looked on woe with pitying eyes; 
But now, recoiling from the strife 
He pities not his captive wife. 



Canto XXVII. Trijata's Dream. 1447 

Alone in Janasthan he slew 
The thousands of the Rakshas crew. 
His arm was strong, his heart was brave, 
Why comes he not to free and save? 
Why blame my lord in vain surmise? 
He knows not where his lady lies. 
O, if he knew, o'er land and sea 
His feet were swift to set me free; 
This Lanka, girdled by the deep, 
Would fall consumed, a shapeless heap, 
And from each ruined home would rise 
A Rakshas widow's groans and cries." 



Canto XXVII. Trijata's Dream. 

Their threats unfeared, their counsel spurned, 

The demons' breasts with fury burned. 

Some sought the giant king to bear 

The tale of Sita's fixt despair. 

With threats and taunts renewed the rest 

Around the weeping lady pressed. 

But Trijata, of softer mould, 

A Rakshas matron wise and old, 

With pity for the captive moved, 

In words like these the fiends reproved: 

"Me, me," she cried, "eat me, but spare 

The spouse of Dasaratha's heir. 

Last night I dreamt a dream; and still 

The fear and awe my bosom chill; 

For in that dream I saw foreshown 

Our race by Rama's hand o'erthrown. 



1448 The Ramayana 

I saw a chariot high in air, 
Of ivory exceeding fair. 
A hundred steeds that chariot drew 
As swiftly through the clouds it flew, 
And, clothed in white, with wreaths that shone, 
The sons of Raghu rode thereon. 
I looked and saw this lady here, 
Clad in the purest white, appear 
High on the snow white hill whose feet 
The angry waves of ocean beat. 
And she and Rama met at last 
Like light and sun when night is past. 
Again I saw them side by side. 
On Ravan's car they seemed to ride, 
And with the princely Lakshman flee 
[4ii] To northern realms beyond the sea. 

Then Ravan, shaved and shorn, besmeared 
With oil from head to foot, appeared. 
He quaffed, he raved: his robes were red: 
Fierce was his eye, and bare his head. 
I saw him from his chariot thrust; 
I saw him rolling in the dust. 
A woman came and dragged away 
The stricken giant where he lay, 
And on a car which asses drew 
The monarch of our race she threw. 
He rose erect, he danced and laughed, 
With thirsty lips the oil he quaffed, 
Then with wild eyes and streaming mouth 
Sped on the chariot to the south. 844 
Then, dropping oil from every limb, 
His sons the princes followed him, 



844 In the south is the region of Yama the God of Death, the place of departed 
spirits. 



Canto XXX. Hanuman's Deliberation. 1449 

And Kumbhakarna, 845 shaved and shorn, 
Was southward on a camel borne. 
Then royal Lanka reeled and fell 
With gate and tower and citadel. 
This ancient city, far-renowned: 
All life within her walls was drowned; 
And the wild waves of ocean rolled 
O'er Lanka and her streets of gold. 
Warned by these signs I bid you fly; 
Or by the hand of Rama die, 
Whose vengeance will not spare the life 
Of one who vexed his faithful wife. 
Your bitter taunts and threats forgo: 
Comfort the lady in her woe, 
And humbly pray her to forgive; 
For so you may be spared and live." 

[I omit the 28th and 29th Cantos as an unmistakeable interpola- 
tion. Instead of advancing the story it goes back to Canto XVII, 
containing a lamentation of Sita after Ravan has left her, and 
describes the the auspicious signs sent to cheer her, the throbbing 
of her left eye, arm, and side. The Canto is found in the Bengal 
recension. Gorresio translates it. and observes: "I think that 
Chapter XXVIII. — The Auspicious Signs — is an addition, a later 
interpolation by the Rhapsodists. It has no bond of connexion 
either with what precedes or follows it, and may be struck out 
not only without injury to, but positively to the advantage of the 
poem. The metre in which this chapter is written differs from 
that which is generally adopted in the course of the poem."] 



Canto XXX. Hanuman's Deliberation. 



1450 The Ramayana 

The Vanar watched concealed: each word 

Of Sita and the fiends he heard, 

And in a maze of anxious thought 

His quick-conceiving bosom wrought. 

"At length my watchful eyes have seen, 

Pursued so long, the Maithil queen, 

Sought by our Vanar hosts in vain 

From east to west, from main to main. 

A cautious spy have I explored 

The palace of the Rakhshas lord, 

And thoroughly learned, concealed from sight, 

The giant monarch's power and might. 

And now my task must be to cheer 

The royal dame who sorrows here. 

For if I go, and soothe her not, 

A captive in this distant spot, 

She, when she finds no comfort nigh, 

Will sink beneath her woes and die. 

How shall my tale, if unconsoled 

I leave her, be to Rama told? 

How shall I answer Raghu's son, 

"No message from my darling, none?" 

The husband's wrath, to fury fanned, 

Will scorch me lifeless where I stand, 

Or if I urge my lord the king 

To Lanka's isle his hosts to bring, 

In vain will be his zeal, in vain 

The toil, the danger, and the pain. 

Yea, this occasion must I seize 

That from her guard the lady frees, 84 

To win her ear with soft address 

And whisper hope in dire distress. 



846 The guards are still in the grove, but they are asleep; and Sita has crept to a 
tree at some distance from them. 



Canto XXX. Hanuman's Deliberation. 1451 

Shall I, a puny Vanar, choose 

The Sanskrit men delight to use? 

If, as a man of Brahman kind, 

I speak the tongue by rules refined, 

The lady, yielding to her fears, 

Will think 'tis Ravan's voice she hears. 

I must assume my only plan — 

The language of a common 847 man. 

Yet, if the lady sees me nigh, [412] 

In terror she will start and cry; 

And all the demon band, alarmed, 

Will come with various weapons armed, 

With their wild shouts the grove will fill, 

And strive to take me, or to kill. 

And, at my death or capture, dies 

The hope of Rama v s enterprise. 

For none can leap, save only me, 

A hundred leagues across the sea. 

It is a sin in me, I own, 

To talk with Janak's child alone. 

Yet greater is the sin if I 

Be silent, and the lady die. 

First I will utter Rama's name, 

And laud the hero's gifts and fame. 

Perchance the name she holds so dear 



847 "As the reason assigned in these passages for not addressing Sfta in Sanskrit 
such as a Brahman would use is not that she would not understand it, but that 
it would alarm her and be unsuitable to the speaker, we must take them as 
indicating that Sanskrit, if not spoken by women of the upper classes at the 
time when the Ramayana was written (whenever that may have been), was at 
least understood by them, and was commonly spoken by men of the priestly 
class, and other educated persons. By the Sanskrit proper to an [ordinary] man, 
alluded to in the second passage, may perhaps be understood not a language in 
which words different from Sanskrit were used, but the employment of formal 
and elaborate diction." MUIR'S{FNS Sanskrit Texts, Part II. p. 166. 



1452 The Ramayana 

Will soothe the faithful lady's fear." 

Canto XXXI. Hanuman's Speech. 

Then in sweet accents low and mild 

The Vanar spoke to Janak's child: 

"A noble king, by sin unstained, 

The mighty Dasaratha reigned. 

Lord of the warrior's car and steed, 

The pride of old Ikshvaku's seed. 

A faithful friend, a blameless king, 

Protector of each living thing. 

A glorious monarch, strong to save, 

Blest with the bliss he freely gave. 

His son, the best of all who know 

The science of the bended bow, 

Was moon-bright Rama, brave and strong, 

Who loved the right and loathed the wrong, 

Who ne'er from kingly duty swerved, 

Loved by the lands his might preserved. 

His feet the path of law pursued; 

His arm rebellious foes subdued. 

His sire's command the prince obeyed 

And, banished, sought the forest shade, 

Where with his wife and brother he 

Wandered a saintly devotee. 

There as he roamed the wilds he slew 

The bravest of the Rakshas crew. 

The giant king the prince beguiled, 

And stole his consort, Janak's child. 

Then Rama roamed the country round, 



Canto XXXII. Sita's Doubt. 1453 

And a firm friend, Sugriva, found, 
Lord of the Vanar race, expelled 
From his own realm which Bali held, 
He conquered Bali and restored 
The kingdom to the rightful lord. 
Then by Sugriva' s high decree 
The Vanar legions searched for thee, 
Sampati's counsel bade me leap 
A hundred leagues across the deep. 
And now my happy eyes have seen 
At last the long-sought Maithil queen. 
Such was the form, the eye, the grace 
Of her whom Rama bade me trace." 

He ceased: her flowing locks she drew 
To shield her from a stranger's view; 
Then, trembling in her wild surprise, 
Raised to the tree her anxious eyes. 



Canto XXXII. Sita's Doubt. 



Her eyes the Maithil lady raised 
And on the monkey speaker gazed. 
She looked, and trembling at the sight 
Wept bitter tears in wild affright. 
She shrank a while with fear distraught, 
Then, nerved again, the lady thought: 
"Is this a dream mine eyes have seen, 
This creature, by our laws unclean? 
O, may the Gods keep Rama, still, 
And Lakshman, and my sire, from ill! 



[413] 



1454 The Ramayana 

It is no dream: I have not slept, 

But, trouble-worn, have watched and wept 

Afar from that dear lord of mine 

For whom in ceaseless woe I pine, 

No art may soothe my wild distress 

Or lull me to forgetfulness. 

I see but him: my lips can frame 

No syllable but Rama's name. 

Each sight I see, each sound I hear, 

Brings Rama to mine eye or ear, 

The wish was in my heart, and hence 

The sweet illusion mocked my sense. 

Twas but a phantom of the mind, 

And yet the voice was soft and kind. 

Be glory to the Eternal Sire, 848 

Be glory to the Lord of Fire, 

The mighty Teacher in the skies, 849 

And Indra with his thousand eyes, 

And may they grant the truth to be 

E'en as the words that startled me." 



Canto XXXIII. The Colloquy. 



AS Svayambhu, the Self-existent, Brahma. 



849 Vrihaspati or Vachaspati, the Lord of Speech and preceptor of the Gods. 



Canto XXXIII. The Colloquy. 1455 

Down from the tree Hanuman came 

And humbly stood before the dame. 

Then joining reverent palm to palm 

Addressed her thus with words of balm: 

"Why should the tears of sorrow rise, 

Sweet lady, to those lovely eyes, 

As when the wind-swept river floods 

Two half expanded lotus buds? 

Who art thou, O most fair of face? 

Of Asur, 850 or celestial race? 

Did Naga mother give thee birth? 

For sure thou art no child of earth. 

Do Rudras 851 claim that heavenly form? 

Or the swift Gods 852 who ride the storm? 

Or art thou Rohini 853 the blest, 

That star more lovely than the rest, — 

Reft from the Moon thou lovest well 

And doomed a while on earth to dwell? 

Or canst thou, fairest wonder, be 

The starry queen Arundhati, 854 

Fled in thy wrath or jealous pride 

From her dear lord Vasishtha's side? 

Who is the husband, father, son 

Or brother, O thou loveliest one, 

Gone from this world in heaven to dwell, 

For whom those eyes with weeping swell? 

Yet, by the tears those sweet eyes shed, 



850 The Asurs were the fierce enemies of the Gods. 

851 The Rudras are manifestations of Siva. 

852 The Maruts or Storm Gods. 

853 Rohini is an asterism personified as the daughter of Daksha and the favourite 
wife of the Moon. The chief star in the constellation is Aldebaran. 

854 Arundhati was the wife of the great sage Vasishtha, and regarded as the 
pattern of conjugal excellence. She was raised to the heavens as one of the 
Pleiades. 



1456 The Ramayana 

Yet, by the earth that bears thy tread, 855 
By calling on a monarch's name, 
No Goddess but a royal dame. 
Art thou the queen, fair lady, say, 
Whom Ravan stole and bore away? 
Yea, by that agony of woe, 
That form unrivalled here below, 
That votive garb, thou art, I ween, 
King Janak's child and Rama's queen." 



Hope at the name of Rama woke, 
And thus the gentle lady spoke: 
"I am that Sita wooed and won 
By Dasaratha's royal son, 
The noblest of Ikshvaku's line; 
And every earthly joy was mine. 
But Rama left his royal home 
In Dandak's tangled wilds to roam. 
Where with Sumitra's son and me, 
He lived a saintly devotee. 
The giant Ravan came with guile 
And bore me thence to Lanka's isle. 
Some respite yet the fiend allows, 
Two months of life, to Rama's spouse. 
Two moons of hopeless woe remain, 
And then the captive will be slain." 



855 The Gods do not shed tears; nor do they touch the ground when they walk 
or stand. Similarly Milton's angels marched above the ground and "the passive 
air upbore their nimble tread." Virgil's "vera incessu patuit dea" may refer to 
the same belief. 



Canto XXXIV. Hanuman's Speech. 1457 

Canto XXXIV. Hanuman's Speech. 

Thus spoke the dame in mournful mood, 
And Hanuman his speech renewed: 
"O lady, by thy lord's decree 
I come a messenger to thee. 
Thy lord is safe with steadfast friends, 
And greeting to his queen he sends, 
And Lakshman, ever faithful bows 
His reverent head to Rama's spouse." 

Through all her frame the rapture ran, 
As thus again the dame began: 
"Now verily the truth I know 
Of the wise saw of long ago: 
"Once only in a hundred years 
True joy to living man appears." 

He marked her rapture-beaming hue, 
And nearer to the lady drew, 
But at each onward step he took 
Suspicious fear her spirit shook. 
"Alas, Alas," she cried in fear. 
"False is the tale I joyed to hear. 
'Tis Ravan, 'tis the fiend, who tries 
To mock me with a new disguise. 
If thou, to wring my woman's heart, 
Hast changed thy shape by magic art, 
And wouldst a helpless dame beguile, 
The wicked deed is doubly vile. 
But no: that fiend thou canst not be: 
Such joy I had from seeing thee. 
But if my fancy does not err, 
And thou art Rama's messenger, 



1458 The Ramayana 

The glories of my lord repeat: 

For to these ears such words are sweet." 

The Vanar knew the lady's thought, 856 
[414] And gave the answer fondly sought: 

"Bright as the sun that lights the sky 
Dear as the Moon to every eye. 
He scatters blessings o'er the land 
Like bounties from Vaisravan's 857 hand. 
Like Vishnu strong and unsubdued, 
Unmatched in might and fortitude. 
Wise, truthful as the Lord of Speech, 
With gentle words he welcomes each. 
Of noblest mould and form is he, 
Like love's incarnate deity. 
He quells the fury of the foe, 
And strikes when justice prompts the blow. 
Safe in the shadow of his arm 
The world is kept from scathe and harm. 
Now soon shall Ravan rue his theft, 
And fall, of realm and life bereft. 
For Rama's wrathful hand shall wing 
His shafts against the giant king. 
The day, O Maithil Queen, is near 
When he and Lakshman will be here, 
And by their side Sugriva lead 
His countless hosts of Vanar breed. 
Sugriva's servant, I, by name 
Hanuman, by his order came. 
With desperate leap I crossed the sea 
To Lanka's isle in search of thee, 



856 That a friend of Rama would praise him as he should be praised, and that if 
the stranger were Ravan in disguise he would avoid the subject. 



Canto XXXV. Hanuman's Speech. 1459 

No traitor, gentle dame, am I: 
Upon my word and faith rely." 



Canto XXXV. Hanuman's Speech. 

With joyous heart she heard him tell 
Of the great lord she loved so well, 
And in sweet accents, soft and low, 
Spoke, half forgetful of her woe: 
"How didst thou stand by Rama's side? 
How came my lord and thou allied? 
How met the people of the wood 
With men on terms of brotherhood? 
Declare each grace and regal sign 
That decks the lords of Raghu's line. 
Each circumstance and look relate: 
Tell Rama's form and speech, and gait." 

"Thy fear and doubt," he cried, "dispelled, 
Hear, lady, what mine eyes beheld. 
Hear the imperial signs that grace 
The glory of Ikshvaku's race. 
With moon-bright face and lotus eyes, 
Most beautiful and good and wise, 
With sun-like glory round his head, 
Long-suffering as the earth we tread, 
He from all foes his realm defends. 
Yea, o'er the world his care extends. 
He follows right in all his ways, 
And ne'er from royal duty strays. 
He knows the lore that strengthens kings; 



1460 The Ramayana 

His heart to truth and honour clings. 
Each grace and gift of form and mind 
Adorns that prince of human kind; 
And virtues like his own endue 
His brother ever firm and true. 
O'er all the land they roamed distraught, 
And thee with vain endeavour sought, 
Until at length their wandering feet 
Trod wearily our wild retreat. 
Our banished king Sugriva spied 
The princes from the mountain side. 
By his command I sought the pair 
And led them to our monarch there. 
Thus Rama and Sugriva met, 
And joined the bonds that knit them yet, 
When each besought the other's aid, 
And friendship and alliance made. 
An arrow launched from Rama's bow 
Laid Bali dead, Sugriva's foe. 
Then by commandment of our lord 
The Vanar hosts each land explored. 
We reached the coast: I crossed the sea 
And found my way at length to thee." 858 



Canto XXXVI. Rama's Ring. 



58 Sfta of course knows nothing of what has happened to Rama since the time 
when she was carried away by Ravan. The poet therefore thinks it necessary to 
repeat the whole story of the meeting between Rama and Sugriva, the defeat of 
Bali, and subsequent events. I give the briefest possible outline of the story. 



Canto XXXVI. Rama's Ring. 1461 

"Receive," he cried, "this precious ring, 859 

Sure token from thy lord the king: 

The golden ring he wont to wear: 

See, Rama's name engraven there." 

Then, as she took the ring he showed, 

The tears that spring of rapture flowed. 

She seemed to touch the hand that sent 

The dearly valued ornament, 

And with her heart again at ease, 

Replied in gentle words like these: 

"O thou, whose soul no fears deter, 

Wise, brave, and faithful messenger! 

And hast thou dared, o'er wave and foam, 

To seek me in the giants' home? 

In thee, true messenger, I find 

The noblest of thy woodland kind. 

Who couldst, unmoved by terror, brook 

On Ravan, king of fiends, to look. [415] 

Now may we commune here as friends, 

For he whom royal Rama sends 

Must needs be one in danger tried, 

A valiant, wise, and faithful guide. 

Say, is it well with Rama still? 

Lives Lakshman yet untouched by ill? 

Then why should Rama's hand be slow 

To free his consort from her woe? 

Why spare to burn, in search of me, 

The land encircled by the sea? 

Can Bharat send no army out 

With banners, cars and battle shout? 

Cannot thy king Sugriva lend 

His legions to assist his friend?" 



859 DE GUBERNATIS{FNS thinks that this ring which the Sun Rama sends to 
the Dawn Sfta is a symbol of the sun's disc. 



1462 The Ramayana 

His hands upon his head he laid 
And thus again his answer made: 
"Not yet has Rama learnt where lies 
His lady of the lotus eyes, 
Or he like Indra from the sky 
To Sachfs 860 aid, to thee would fly. 
Soon will he hear the tale, and then, 
Roused to revenge, the lord of men 
Will to the giants' island lead 
Fierce myriads of the woodland breed, 
Bridging his conquering way, and make 
The town a ruin for thy sake. 
Believe my words, sweet dame; I swear 
By roots and fruit, my woodland fare, 
By Meru's peak and Vindhva's chain, 
And Mandar of the Milky Main, 
Soon shalt thou see thy lord, though now 
He waits upon Prasravan's 861 brow, 
Come glorious as the breaking morn, 
Like Indra on Airavat 862 borne. 
For thee he looks with longing eyes; 
The wood his scanty food supplies. 
For thee his brow is pale and worn, 
For thee are meat and wine forsworn. 
Thine image in his heart he keeps, 
For thee by night he wakes and weeps. 
Or if perchance his eyes he close 
And win brief respite from his woes, 
E'en then the name of Sita slips 
In anguish from his murmuring lips. 



860 Sachf is the loved and lovely wife of Indra, and she is taken as the type of a 
woman protected by a jealous and all-powerful husband. 

861 , 

862 Airavat is the mighty elephant on which Indra delights to ride. 



Canto XXXVII. Sita's Speech. 1463 

If lovely flowers or fruit he sees, 
Which women love, upon the trees, 
To thee, to thee his fancy flies. 
And 'Sita! O my love!' he cries." 



Canto XXXVII. Sita's Speech. 

"Thou bringest me," she cried again, 
"A mingled draught of bliss and pain: 
Bliss, that he wears me in his heart, 
Pain, that he wakes and weeps apart, 
O, see how Fate is king of all, 
Now lifts us high, now bids us fall, 
And leads a captive bound with cord 
The meanest slave, the proudest lord, 
Thus even now Fate's stern decree 
Has struck with grief my lord and me. 
Say, how shall Rama reach the shore 
Of sorrow's waves that rise and roar, 
A shipwrecked sailor, well nigh drowned 
In the wild sea that foams around? 
When will he smite the demon down, 
Lay low in dust the giants' town, 
And, glorious from his foes' defeat, 
His wife, his long-lost Sita, meet? 
Go, bid him speed to smite his foes 
Before the year shall reach its close. 
Ten months are fled but two remain, 
Then Ravan's captive must be slain. 
Oft has Vibhishan, 863 just and wise, 



863 Vibhishan is the wicked Ravan's good brother. 



1464 The Ramayana 

Besought him to restore his prize. 
But deaf is Ravan's senseless ear: 
His brother's rede he will not hear. 
Vibhishan's daughter 864 loves me well: 
From her I learnt the tale I tell. 
Avindhva 865 prudent, just, and old, 
The giant's fall has oft foretold; 
But Fate impels him to despise 
His word on whom he most relies. 
In Rama's love I rest secure, 
For my fond heart is true and pure, 
And him, my noblest lord, I deem 
In valour, power, and might supreme." 

As from her eyes the waters ran, 
The Vanar chief again began: 
"Yea, Rama, when he hears my tale, 
Will with our hosts these walls assail. 
Or I myself, O Queen, this day 
Will bear thee from the fiend away, 
Will lift thee up, and take thee hence 
To him thy refuge and defence; 
Will take thee in my arms, and flee 
To Rama far beyond the sea; 
Will place thee on Prasravan hill 
[416] Where Raghu's son is waiting still." 

"How canst thou bear me hence?" she cried, 
"The way is long, the sea is wide. 
To bear my very weight would be 
A task too hard for one like thee." 866 



864 Her name is Kala, or in the Bengal recension Nanda. 

865 One of Ravan's chief councillors. 

866 Hanuman when he entered the city had in order to escape observation 
condensed himself to the size of a cat. 



Canto XXXVII. Sfta's Speech. 1465 

Swift rose before her startled eyes 
The Vanar in his native size, 
Like Mandar's hill or Meru's height, 
Encircled with a blaze of light. 
"O come," he cried, "thy fears dispel, 
Nor doubt that I will bear thee well. 
Come, in my strength and care confide, 
And sit in joy by Rama's side." 



Again she spake: "I know thee now, 
Brave, resolute, and strong art thou; 
In glory like the Lord of Fire 
With storm-swift feet which naught may tire 
But yet with thee I may not fly: 
For, borne so swiftly through the sky, 
Mine eyes would soon grow faint and dim, 
My dizzy brain would reel and swim, 
My yielding arms relax their hold, 
And I in terror uncontrolled 
Should fall into the raging sea 
Where hungry sharks would feed on me. 
Nor can I touch, of free accord, 
The limbs of any save my lord. 
If, by the giant forced away, 
In his enfolding arms I lay, 
Not mine, O Vanar, was the blame; 
What could I do, a helpless dame? 
Go, to my lord my message bear, 
And bid him end my long despair." 



1466 The Ramayana 

Canto XXXVIII. Sita's Gem. 



Again the Vanar chief replied, 
With her wise answer satisfied: 
"Well hast thou said: thou canst not brave 
The rushing wind, the roaring wave. 
Thy woman's heart would sink with fear 
Before the ocean shore were near. 
And for thy dread lest limb of thine 
Should for a while be touched by mine, 
The modest fear is worthy one 
Whose cherished lord is Raghu's son. 
Yet when I sought to bear thee hence 
I spoke the words of innocence, 
Impelled to set the captive free 
By friendship for thy lord and thee. 
But if with me thou wilt not try 
The passage of the windy sky, 
Give me a gem that I may show, 
Some token which thy lord may know." 

Again the Maithil lady spoke, 
While tears and sobs her utterance broke: 
"The surest of all signs is this, 
To tell the tale of vanished bliss. 
Thus in my name to Rama speak: 
"Remember Chitrakuta's peak 
And the green margin of the rill 867 
That flows beside that pleasant hill, 
Where thou and I together strayed 
Delighting in the tangled shade. 



The brook Mandakini, not far from Chitrakuta where Rama sojourned for 
a time. 



Canto XXXVIII. Sita's Gem. 1467 

There on the grass I sat with thee 
And laid my head upon thy knee. 
There came a greedy crow and pecked 
The meat I waited to protect 
And, heedless of the clods I threw, 
About my head in circles flew, 
Until by darling hunger pressed 
He boldly pecked me on the breast. 
I ran to thee in rage and grief 
And prayed for vengeance on the thief. 
Then Rama 868 from his slumber rose 
And smiled with pity at my woes. 
Upon my bleeding breast he saw 
The scratches made by beak and claw. 
He laid an arrow on his bow, 
And launched it at the shameless crow. 
That shaft, with magic power endued, 
The bird, where'er he flew, pursued, 
Till back to Raghu's son he fled 
And bent at Rama's feet his head. 869 
Couldst thou for me with anger stirred 
Launch that dire shaft upon a bird, 
And yet canst pardon him who stole 
The darling of thy heart and soul? 
Rise up, O bravest of the brave, 
And come in all thy might to save. 
Come with the thunders of thy bow, 
And smite to earth the Rakshas foe." 

She ceased; and from her glorious hair 
She took a gem that sparkled there 



868 The poet here changes from the second person to the third. 

869 The whole long story is repeated with some slight variations and additions 
from Book II, Canto XCVI. I give here only the outline. 



[417] 



1468 The Ramayana 

A token which her husband's eyes 
With eager love would recognize. 
His head the Vanar envoy bent 
In low obeisance reverent. 
And on his finger bound the gem 
She loosened from her diadem. 

[I omit two Cantos of dialogue. Sita tells Hanuman again to 
convey her message to Rama and bid him hasten to rescue her. 
Hanuman replies as before that there is no one on earth equal to 
Rama, who will soon come and destroy Ravan. There is not a 
new idea in the two Cantos: all is reiteration.] 



Canto XLI. The Ruin Of The Grove. 



Dismissed with every honour due 
The Vanar from the spot withdrew. 
Then joyous thought the Wind-God's son: 
"The mighty task is wellnigh done. 
The three expedients I must leave; 
The fourth alone can I achieve. 870 
These dwellers in the giants' isle 
No arts of mine can reconcile. 
I cannot bribe: I cannot sow 
Dissension mid the Rakshas foe. 
Arts, gifts, address, these fiends despise; 



870 The expedients to vanquish an enemy or to make him come to terms are said 
to be four: conciliation, gifts, disunion, and force or punishment. Hanuman 
considers it useless to employ the first three and resolves to punish Ravan by 
destroying his pleasure-grounds. 



Canto XLI. The Ruin Of The Grove. 1469 

But force shall yet their king chastise. 
Perchance he may relent when all 
The bravest of his chieftains fall. 
This lovely grove will I destroy, 
The cruel Ravan's pride and joy. 
The garden where he takes his ease 
Mid climbing plants and flowery trees 
That lift their proud tops to the skies, 
Dear to the tyrant as his eyes. 
Then will he rouse in wrath, and lead 
His legions with the car and steed 
And elephants in long array, 
And seek me thirsty for the fray. 
The Rakshas legions will I meet, 
And all his bravest host defeat; 
Then, glorious from the bloody plain, 
Turn to my lord the king again." 

Then every lovely tree that bore 
Fair blossoms, from the soil he tore, 
Till each green bough that lent its shade 
To singing birds on earth was laid. 
The wilderness he left a waste, 
The fountains shattered and defaced: 
O'erthrew and levelled with the ground 
Each shady seat and pleasure-mound. 
Each arbour clad with climbing bloom, 
Each grotto, cell, and picture room, 
Each lawn by beast and bird enjoyed, 
Each walk and terrace was destroyed. 
And all the place that was so fair 
Was left a ruin wild and bare, 
As if the fury of the blast 
Or raging fire had o'er it passed. 



1470 The Ramayana 

Canto XLII. The Giants Roused. 



The cries of startled birds, the sound 
Of tall trees crashing to the ground, 
Struck with amaze each giant's ear, 
And filled the isle with sudden fear. 
Then, wakened by the crash and cries, 
The fierce shefiends unclosed their eyes, 
And saw the Vanar where he stood 
Amid the devastated wood. 
The more to scare them with the view 
To size immense the Vanar grew; 
And straight the Rakshas warders cried 
Janak's daughter terrified 
"Whose envoy, whence, and who is he, 
Why has he come to talk with thee? 
Speak, lady of the lovely eyes, 
And let not fear thy joy disguise." 



Then thus replied the Maithil dame 
Of noble soul and perfect frame. 
"Can I discern, with scanty skill, 
These fiends who change their forms at will? 
'Tis yours to say: your kin you meet; 
A serpent knows a serpent's feet. 



Canto XLII. The Giants Roused. 147 1 

I weet not who he is: the sight 
Has filled my spirit with affright." 
Some pressed round Sita in a ring; 
Some bore the story to their king: 
"A mighty creature of our race, 
In monkey form, has reached the place. 
He came within the grove," they cried, 
"He stood and talked by Sita's side, 
He comes from Indra's court to her, 
Or is Kuvera's messenger; 
Or Rama sent the spy to seek 
His consort, and her wrongs to wreak. 
His crushing arm, his trampling feet 
Have marred and spoiled that dear retreat, 
And all the pleasant place which thou 
So lovest is a ruin now. 
The tree where Sita sat alone 
Is spared where all are overthrown. 
Perchance he saved the dame from harm: 
Perchance the toil had numbed his arm." 

Then flashed the giant's eye with fire 
Like that which lights the funeral pyre. 

He bade his bravest Kinkars 871 speed [418] 

And to his feet the spoiler lead. 
Forth from the palace, at his hest, 
Twice forty thousand warriors pressed. 
Burning for battle, strong and fierce, 
With clubs to crush and swords to pierce, 
They saw Haniiman near a porch, 
And, thick as moths around a torch, 



871 Kinkar means the special servant of a sovereign, who receives his orders 
immediately from his master. The Bengal recension gives these Rakshases an 
epithet which the Commentator explains "as generated in the mind of Brahma." 



1472 The Ramayana 

Rushed on the foe with wild attacks 
Of mace and club and battle-axe. 
As round him pressed the Rakshas crowd, 
The wondrous monkey roared aloud, 
That birds fell headlong from the sky: 
Then spake he with a mighty cry: 
"Long life to Dasaratha's heir, 
And Lakshman, ever-glorious pair! 
Long life to him who rules our race, 
Preserved by noblest Rama's grace! 
I am the slave of Kosal's king, 872 
Whose wondrous deeds the minstrels sing. 
Hanuman I, the Wind-God's seed: 
Beneath this arm the foemen bleed. 
I fear not, unapproached in might, 
A thousand Ravan's ranged for fight, 
Although in furious hands they rear 
The hill and tree for sword and spear, 
I will, before the giants' eyes, 
Their city and their king chastise; 
And, having communed with the dame, 
Depart in triumph as I came." 

At that terrific roar and yell 
The heart of every giant fell. 
But still their king's command they feared 
And pressed around with arms upreared. 
Beside the porch a club was laid: 
The Vanar caught it up, and swayed 
The weapon round his head, and slew 
The foremost of the Rakshas crew. 
Thus Indra vanquished, thousand-eyed, 
The Daityas who the Gods defied. 



872 Rama de jure King of Kosal of which Ayodhya was the capital. 



Canto XLIII. The Ruin Of The Temple. 1473 

Then on the porch Hanuman sprang, 
And loud his shout of triumph rang. 
The giants looked upon the dead, 
And turning to their monarch fled. 
And Ravan with his spirit wrought 
To frenzy by the tale they brought, 
Urged to the fight Prahasta's son, 
Of all his chiefs the mightiest one. 



Canto XLIII. The Ruin Of The Temple. 



The Wind-God's son a temple 873 scaled 

Which, by his fury unassailed, 

High as the hill of Meru, stood 

Amid the ruins of the wood; 

And in his fury thundered out 

Again his haughty battle-shout: 

"I am the slave of Kosal's King 

Whose wondrous deeds the minstrels sing." 

Forth hurried, by that shout alarmed, 

The warders of the temple armed 

With every weapon haste supplied, 

And closed him in on every side, 

With bands that strove to pierce and strike 

With shaft and axe and club and pike. 

Then from its base the Vanar tore 

A pillar with the weight it bore. 

Against the wall the mass he dashed, 



873 Chaityaprdsdda is explained by the Commentator as the place where the 
Gods of the Rakshases were kept. Gorresio translates it by "un grande edificio." 



1474 The Ramayana 

And forth the flames in answer flashed, 
That wildly ran o'er roofs and wall 
In hungry rage consuming all. 
He whirled the pillar round his head 
And struck a hundred giants dead. 
Then high upheld on air he rose 
And called in thunder to his foes: 
"A thousand Vanar chiefs like me 
Roam at their will o'er land and sea, 
Terrific might we all possess: 
Our stormy speed is limitless. 
And all, unconquered in the fray, 
Our king Sugriva's word obey. 
Backed by his bravest myriads, he 
Our warrior lord will cross the sea. 
Then Lanka's lofty towers, and all 
Your hosts and Ravan's self shall fall. 
None shall be left unslaughtered; none 
Who braves the wrath of Raghu's son." 



Canto XLIV. Jambumali's Death. 



Then Jambumali, pride and boast 
For valour of the Rakshas host, 
Prahasta's son supremely brave, 
Obeyed the hest that Ravan gave: 
Fierce warrior with terrific teeth, 
With saguine robes and brilliant wreath. 
[419] A bow like Indra's own 874 , and store 



Canto XLIV. Jambumali's Death. 1475 

Of glittering shafts the chieftain bore. 
And ever as the string he tried 
The weapon with a roar replied, 
Loud as the crashing thunder sent 
By him who rules the firmament. 
Soon as the foeman came in view 
Borne on a car which asses drew, 
The Vanar chieftain mighty-voiced 
Shouted in triumph and rejoiced. 
Prahasta's son his bow-string drew, 
And swift the winged arrows flew, 
One in the face the Vanar smote, 
Another quivered in his throat. 
Ten from the deadly weapon sent 
His brawny arms and shoulders rent. 
Then as he felt each galling shot 
The Vanar's rage waxed fiercely hot. 
He looked, and saw a mass of stone 
That lay before his feet o'erthrown. 
The mighty block he raised and threw, 
And crashing through the air it flew. 
But Jambumali shunned the blow, 
And rained fresh arrows from his bow. 
The Vanar's limbs were red with gore: 
A Sal tree from the earth he tore, 
And, ere he hurled it undismayed, 
Above his head the missile swayed. 
But shafts from Jambumali's bow 
Cut through it ere his hand could throw. 
And thigh and arm and chest and side 
With streams of rushing blood were dyed. 
Still unsubdued though wounded oft 
The shattered trunk he raised aloft, 
And down with well-directed aim 



1476 The Ramayana 

On Jambumali's chest it came. 

There crushed upon the trampled grass 

He lay an undistinguished mass, 

The foeman's eye no more could see 

His head or chest or arm or knee. 

And bow and car and steeds 875 and store 

Of glittering shafts were seen no more. 

When Jambumali's death he heard, 
King Ravan's heart with rage was stirred 
And forth his general's sons he sent, 
For power and might preeminent. 



Canto XLV. The Seven Defeated. 



Forth went the seven in brave attire, 

In glory brilliant as the fire, 

Impetuous chiefs with massive bows, 

The quellers of a host of foes: 

Trained from their youth in martial lore, 

And masters of the arms they bore: 

Each emulous and fiercely bold, 

And banners wrought with glittering gold 

Waved o'er their chariots, drawn at speed 

By coursers of the noblest breed. 

On through the ruins of the grove 

At Hanuman they fiercely drove, 

And from the ponderous bows they strained 



875 We were told a few lines before that the chariot of Jambumali was drawn 
by asses. Here horses are spoken of. The Commentator notices the discrepancy 
and says that by horses asses are meant. 



Canto XLV. The Seven Defeated. 1477 

A shower of deadly arrows rained. 

Then scarce was seen the Vanar's form 

Enveloped in the arrowy storm. 

So stands half veiled the Mountains' King 

When rainy clouds about him cling. 

By nimble turn, by rapid bound 

He shunned the shafts that rained around, 

Eluding, as in air he rose, 

The rushing chariots of his foes. 

The mighty Vanar undismayed 

Amid his archer foemen played, 

As plays the frolic wind on high 

Mid bow-armed 876 clouds that fill the sky. 

He raised a mighty roar and yell 

That fear on all the army fell, 

And then, his warrior soul aglow 

With fury, rushed upon the foe, 

Some with his open hand he beat 

To death and trampled with his feet; 

Some with fierce nails he rent and slew, 

And others with his fists o'erthrew; 

Some with his legs, as on he rushed, 

Some with his bulky chest he crushed; 

While some struck senseless by his roar 

Dropped on the ground and breathed no more, 

The remnant, seized with sudden dread, 

Turned from the grove and wildly fled. 

The trampled earth was thickly strown 

With steed and car and flag o'erthrown, 

And the red blood in rivers flowed 

From slaughtered fiends o'er path and road. 



876 Armed with the bow of Indra, the rainbow. 



1478 The Ramayana 

Canto XLVI. The Captains. 

Mad with the rage of injured pride 
King Ravan summoned to his side 
The valiant five who led his host, 
Supreme in war and honoured most. 
"Go forth," he cried, "with car and steed, 
And to my feet this monkey lead, 
But watch each chance of time and place 
To seize this thing of silvan race. 
For from his wondrous exploits he 
[420] No monkey of the woods can be, 

But some new kind of creature meant 
To work us woe, by Indra sent. 
Gandharvas, Nagas, and the best 
Of Yakshas have our might confessed. 
Have we not challenged and subdued 
The whole celestial multitude? 
Yet will you not, if you are wise, 
A chief of monkey race despise. 
For I myself have Bali known, 
And King Sugriva's power I own. 
But none of all their woodland throng 
Was half so terrible and strong." 

Obedient to the words he spake 
They hastened forth the foe to take. 
Swift were the cars whereon they rode, 
And bright their weapons flashed and glowed. 
They saw: they charged in wild career 
With sword and mace and axe and spear. 
From Durdhar's bow five arrows sped 
And quivered in the Vanar's head. 
He rose and roared: the fearful sound 



Canto XLVII. The Death Of Aksha. 1479 

Made all the region echo round. 
Then from above his weight he threw 
On Durdhar's car that near him drew. 
The weight that came with lightning speed 
Crushed pole and axle, car and steed. 
It shattered Durdhar's head and neck, 
And left him lifeless mid the wreck. 
Yupaksha saw the warrior die, 
And Virupaksha heard his cry, 
And, mad for vengeance for the slain, 
They charged their Vanar foe again. 
He rose in air: they onward pressed 
And fiercely smote him on the breast. 
In vain they struck his iron frame: 
With eagle swoop to earth he came, 
Tore from the ground a tree that grew 
Beside him, and the demons slew. 
Then Bhasakama raised his spear, 
And Praghas with a laugh drew near, 
And, maddened at the sight, the two 
Against the undaunted Vanar flew. 
As from his wounds the torrents flowed, 
Like a red sun the Vanar showed. 
He turned, a mountain peak to seize 
With all its beasts and snakes and trees. 
He hurled it on the pair: and they 
Crushed, overwhelmed, beneath it lay. 



Canto XLVII. The Death Of Aksha. 



1480 The Ramayana 

But Ravan, as his fury burned, 

His eyes on youthful Aksha 877 turned, 

Who rose impetuous at his glance 

And shouted for his bow and lance. 

He rode upon a glorious car 

That shot the light of gems afar. 

His pennon waved mid glittering gold 

And bright the wheels with jewels rolled, 

By long and fierce devotion won 

That car was splendid as the sun. 

With rows of various weapons stored; 

And thought-swift horses whirled their lord 

Racing along the earth, or rose 

High through the clouds whene'er he chose. 

Then fierce and fearful war between 

The Vanar and the fiend was seen. 

The Gods and Asurs stood amazed, 

And on the wondrous combat gazed. 

A cry from earth rose long and shrill, 

The wind was hushed, the sun grew chill. 

The thunder bellowed from the sky, 

And troubled ocean roared reply. 

Thrice Aksha strained his dreadful bow, 

Thrice smote his arrow on the foe, 

And with full streams of crimson bled 

Three gashes in the Vanar's head. 

Then rose Hanuman in the air 

To shun the shafts no life could bear. 

But Aksha in his car pursued, 

And from on high the fight renewed 

With storm of arrows, thick as hail 

When angry clouds some hill assail. 



Canto XLVIII. Hanuman Captured. 148 1 

Impatient of that arrowy shower 
The Vanar chief put forth his power, 
Again above his chariot rose 
And smote him with repeated blows. 
Terrific came each deadly stroke: 
Breast neck and arm and back he broke; 
And Aksha fell to earth, and lay 
With all his life-blood drained away. 



Canto XLVIII. Hanuman Captured. 

To Indrajit 878 the bold and brave 

The giant king his mandate gave: 

"O trained in warlike science, best 

In arms of all our mightiest, 

Whose valour in the conflict shown 

To Asurs and to Gods is known, 

The Kinkars whom I sent are slain, 

And Jambumali and his train; 

The lords who led our giant bands 

Have fallen by the monkey's hands; 

With shattered cars the ground is spread, 

And Aksha lies amid the dead. 

Thou art my best and bravest: go, 

Unmatched in power, and slay the foe." [421] 

He heard the hest: he bent his head; 

Athirst for battle forth he sped. 

Four tigers fierce, of tawny hue, 

With fearful teeth, his chariot drew. 



5,78 Conqueror of Indra, another of Ravan's sons. 



1482 The Ramayana 

Hanuman heard his strong bow clang, 
And swiftly from the earth he sprang, 
While weak and ineffective fell 
The archer's shafts though pointed well. 
The Rakshas saw that naught might kill 
The wondrous foe who mocked his skill, 
And launched a magic shaft to throw 
A binding spell about his foe. 
Forth flew the shaft: the mystic charm 
Stayed his swift feet and numbed his arm, 
Through all his frame he felt the spell, 
And motionless to earth he fell. 
Nor would the reverent Vanar loose 
The bonds that bound him as a noose. 
He knew that Brahma's self had charmed 
The weapon that his might disarmed. 



They saw him helpless on the ground, 
And all the giants pressed around, 
And bonds of hemp and bark were cast 
About his limbs to hold him fast. 
They drew the ropes round feet and wrists; 
They beat him with their hands and fists, 
And dragged him as they strained the cord 
With shouts of triumph to their lord. 879 



79 The sloka which follows is probably an interpolation, as it is inconsistent 
with the questioning in Canto L.: 

He looked on Ravan in his pride, 
And boldly to the monarch cried: 
"I came an envoy to this place 
From him who rules the Vanar race." 



Canto XLIX. Ravan. 1483 

Canto XLIX. Ravan. 



On the fierce king Hanuman turned 

His angry eyes that glowed and burned. 

He saw him decked with wealth untold 

Of diamond and pearl and gold, 

And priceless was each wondrous gem 

That sparkled in his diadem. 

About his neck rich chains were twined, 

The best that fancy e'er designed, 

And a fair robe with pearls bestrung 

Down from his mighty shoulders hung. 

Ten heads he reared, 880 as Mandar's hill 

Lifts woody peaks which tigers fill, 

Bright were his eyes, and bright, beneath, 

The flashes of his awful teeth. 

His brawny arms of wondrous size 

Were decked with rings and scented dyes. 

His hands like snakes with five long heads 

Descending from their mountain beds. 

He sat upon a crystal throne 

Inlaid with wealth of precious stone, 

Whereon, of noblest work, was set 

A gold-embroidered coverlet. 

Behind the monarch stood the best 

Of beauteous women gaily dressed, 

And each her giant master fanned, 

Or waved a chourie in her hand. 



880 The ten heads of Ravan have provoked much ridicule from European critics. 
It should be remembered that Spenser tells us of "two brethren giants, the one 
of which had two heads, the other three;" and Milton speaks of the "four-fold 
visaged Four," the four Cherubic shapes each of whom had four faces. 



1484 The Ramayana 

Four noble courtiers 881 wise and good 
In counsel, near the monarch stood, 
As the four oceans ever stand 
About the sea-encompassed land. 
Still, though his heart with rage was fired, 
The Vanar marvelled and admired: 
"O what a rare and wondrous sight! 
What beauty, majesty, and might! 
All regal pomp combines to grace 
This ruler of the Rakshas race. 
He, if he scorned not right and law, 
Might guide the world with tempered awe: 
Yea, Indra and the Gods on high 
Might on his saving power rely." 



Canto L. Prahasta's Questions. 



Then fierce the giant's fury blazed 
As on Hanuman's form he gazed, 
And shaken by each wild surmise 
He spake aloud with flashing eyes: 
"Can this be Nandi 882 standing here, 
The mighty one whom all revere? 
Who once on high Kailasa's hill 
Pronounced the curse that haunts me still? 
Or is the woodland creature one 



881 Durdhar, or as the Bengal recension reads Mahodara, Prahasta, Mahaparsva, 
and Nikumbha. 



Canto L. Prahasta's Questions. 1485 

Of Asur race, or Bali's 883 son? 

The wretch with searching question try: 

Learn who he is, and whence; and why 

He marred the glory of the grove, 

And with my captains fiercely strove." [422] 

Prahasta heard his lord's behest, 

And thus the Vanar chief addressed: 

"O monkey stranger be consoled: 

Fear not, and let thy heart be bold. 

If thou by Indra's mandate sent 

Thy steps to Lanka's isle hast bent, 

With fearless words the cause explain, 

And freedom thou shalt soon regain. 

Or if thou comest as a spy 

Despatched by Vishnu in the sky, 

Or sent by Yama, or the Lord 

Of Riches, hast our town explored; 

Proved by the prowess thou hast shown 

No monkey save in form alone; 

Speak boldly all the truth, and be 

Released from bonds, unharmed and free. 

But falsehood spoken to our king 

Swift punishment of death will bring." 

He ceased: the Vanar made reply; 
"Not Indra's messenger am I, 
Nor came I hither to fulfil 
Kuvera's hest or Vishnu's will. 
I stand before the giants here 
A Vanar e'en as I appear. 
I longed to see the king: 'twas hard 



883 Bali, not to be confounded with Bali the Vanar, was a celebrated Daitya or 
demon who had usurped the empire of the three worlds, and who was deprived 
of two thirds of his dominions by Vishnu in the Dwarf-incarnation. 



1486 The Ramayana 

To win my way through gate and guard. 
And so to gain my wish I laid 
In ruin that delightful shade. 
No fiend, no God of heavenly kind 
With bond or chain these limbs may bind. 
The Eternal Sire himself of old 
Vouchsafed the boon that makes me bold, 
From Brahma's magic shaft released 884 
I knew the captor's power had ceased, 
The fancied bonds I freely brooked, 
And thus upon the king have looked. 
My way to Lanka have I won, 
A messenger from Raghu's son." 



Canto LI. Hanuman's Reply. 



"My king Sugriva greets thee fair, 

And bids me thus his rede declare. 

Son of the God of Wind, by name 

Hanuman, to this isle I came. 

To set the Maithil lady free 

I crossed the barrier of the sea. 

I roamed in search of her and found 

Her weeping in that lovely ground. 

Thou in the lore of duty trained, 

Who hast by stern devotion gained 

This wondrous wealth and power and fame 

Shouldst fear to wrong another's dame. 



884 When Hanuman was bound with cords, Indrajft released his captive from 
the spell laid upon him by the magic weapon. 



Canto LI. Hanuman's Reply. 1487 

Hear thou my counsel, and be wise: 
No fiend, no dweller in the skies 
Can bear the shafts by Lakshman shot, 
Or Rama when his wrath is hot. 
O Giant King, repent the crime 
And soothe him while there yet is time. 
Now be the Maithil queen restored 
Uninjured to her sorrowing lord. 
Soon wilt thou rue thy dire mistake: 
She is no woman but a snake, 
Whose very deadly bite will be 
The ruin of thy house and thee. 
Thy pride has led thy thoughts astray, 
That fancy not a hand may slay 
The monarch of the giants, screened 
From mortal blow of God and fiend. 
Sugriva still thy death may be: 
No Yaksha, fiend, or God is he, 
And Rama from a woman springs, 
The mortal seed of mortal kings. 
O think how Bali fell subdued; 
Think on thy slaughtered multitude. 
Respect those brave and strong allies; 
Consult thy safety, and be wise. 
I, even I, no helper need 
To overthrow, with car and steed, 
Thy city Lanka half divine: 
The power but not the will is mine. 
For Raghu's son, before his friend 
The Vanar monarch, swore to end 
With his own conquering arm the life 
Of him who stole his darling wife. 
Turn, and be wise, O Ravan turn; 
Or thou wilt see thy Lanka burn, 



1488 The Ramayana 

And with thy wives, friends, kith and kin 
Be ruined for thy senseless sin." 



Canto LII. Vibhishan's Speech. 



Then Ravan spake with flashing eye: 
"Hence with the Vanar: let him die." 
Vibhishan heard the stern behest, 
And pondered in his troubled breast; 
Then, trained in arts that soothe and please 
Addressed the king in words like these: 

"Revoke, my lord, thy fierce decree, 
And hear the words I speak to thee. 
Kings wise and noble ne'er condemn 
To death the envoys sent to them. 
Such deed the world's contempt would draw 
On him who breaks the ancient law. 885 
Observe the mean where justice lies, 
[423] And spare his life but still chastise." 

Then forth the tyrant's fury broke, 
And thus in angry words he spoke: 
"O hero, when the wicked bleed 
No sin or shame attends the deed. 
The Vanar's blood must needs be spilt, 
The penalty of heinous guilt." 



885 "One who murders an ambassador (raja bhata) goes to Taptakumbha, the 
hell of heated caldrons." WILSON'SJFNS Vishnu Parana, Vol. II. p. 217. 



Canto LIII. The Punishment. 1489 

Again Vibhishan made reply: 
"Nay, hear me, for he must not die. 
Hear the great law the wise declare: 
"Thy foeman's envoy thou shalt spare." 
'Tis true he comes an open foe: 
'Tis true his hands have wrought us woe, 
But law allows thee, if thou wilt, 
A punishment to suit the guilt. 
The mark of shame, the scourge, the brand, 
The shaven head, the wounded hand. 
Yea, were the Vanar envoy slain, 
Where, King of giants, were the gain? 
On them alone, on them who sent 
The message, be the punishment. 
For spake he well or spake he ill, 
He spake obedient to their will, 
And, if he perish, who can bear 
Thy challenge to the royal pair? 
Who, cross the ocean and incite 
Thy death-doomed enemies to fight?" 



Canto LIII. The Punishment. 

King Ravan, by his pleading moved, 
The counsel of the chief approved: 
"Thy words are wise and true: to kill 
An envoy would beseem us ill. 
Yet must we for his crime invent 
Some fitting mode of punishment. 
The tail, I fancy, is the part 
Most cherished by a monkey's heart. 



1490 The Ramayana 

Make ready: set his tail aflame, 
And let him leave us as he came, 
And thus disfigured and disgraced 
Back to his king and people haste." 

The giants heard their monarch's speech; 
And, filled with burning fury, each 
Brought strips of cotton cloth, and round 
The monkey's tail the bandage wound. 
As round his tail the bands they drew 
His mighty form dilating grew 
Vast as the flame that bursts on high 
Where trees are old and grass is dry. 
Each band and strip they soaked in oil, 
And set on fire the twisted coil. 
Delighted as they viewed the blaze, 
The cruel demons stood at gaze: 
And mid loud drums and shells rang out 
The triumph of their joyful shout. 
They pressed about him thick and fast 
As through the crowded streets he passed, 
Observing with attentive care 
Each rich and wondrous structure there, 
Still heedless of the eager cry 
That rent the air, The spy! the spy! 

Some to the captive lady ran, 
And thus in joyous words began: 
"That copper-visaged monkey, he 
Who in the garden talked with thee, 
Through Lanka's town is led a show, 
And round his tail the red flames glow." 
The mournful news the lady heard 
That with fresh grief her bosom stirred. 



Canto LIV. The Burning Of Lanka. 149 1 

Swift to the kindled fire she went 
And prayed before it reverent: 
"If I my husband have obeyed, 
And kept the ascetic vows I made, 
Free, ever free, from stain and blot, 
O spare the Vanar; harm him not." 



Then leapt on high the flickering flame 
And shone in answer to the dame. 
The pitying fire its rage forbore: 
The Vanar felt the heat no more. 
Then, to minutest size reduced, 
The bonds that bound his limbs he loosed, 
And, freed from every band and chain, 
Rose to his native size again. 
He seized a club of ponderous weight 
That lay before him by the gate, 
Rushed at the fiends that hemmed him round, 
And laid them lifeless on the ground. 
Through Lanka's town again he strode, 
And viewed each street and square and road- 
Still wreathed about with harmless blaze, 
A sun engarlanded with rays. 



[424] 



Canto LIV. The Burning Of Lanka. 



1492 The Ramayana 

"What further deed remains to do 
To vex the Rakshas king anew? 
The beauty of his grove is marred, 
Killed are the bravest of his guard. 
The captains of his host are slain; 
But forts and palaces remain, 
Swift is the work and light the toil 
Each fortress of the foe to spoil." 



Reflecting thus, his tail ablaze 
As through the cloud red lightning plays, 
He scaled the palaces and spread 
The conflagration where he sped. 
From house to house he hurried on, 
And the wild flames behind him shone. 
Each mansion of the foe he scaled, 
And furious fire its roof assailed 
Till all the common ruin shared: 
Vibhishan's house alone was spared. 
From blazing pile to pile he sprang, 
And loud his shout of triumph rang, 
As roars the doomsday cloud when all 
The worlds in dissolution fall. 
The friendly wind conspired to fan 
The hungry flames that leapt and ran, 
And spreading in their fury caught 
The gilded walls with pearls inwrought, 
Till each proud palace reeled and fell 
As falls a heavenly citadel. 



Canto LV. Fear For Sita. 1493 

Loud was the roar the demons raised 
Mid walls that split and beams that blazed, 
As each with vain endeavour strove 
To stay the flames in house or grove. 
The women, with dishevelled hair, 
Flocked to the roofs in wild despair, 
Shrieked out for succour, wept aloud, 
And fell, like lightning from a cloud. 
He saw the flames ascend and curl 
Round turkis, diamond, and pearl, 
While silver floods and molten gold 
From ruined wall and latice rolled. 
As fire grows fiercer as he feeds 
On wood and grass and crackling reeds, 
So Hanuman the ruin eyed 
With fury still unsatisfied. 



Canto LV. Fear For Sita. 



But other thoughts resumed their sway 

When Lanka's town in ruin lay; 

And, as his bosom felt their weight 

He stood a while to meditate. 

"What have I done?", he thought with shame, 

"Destroyed the town with hostile flame. 

O happy they whose firm control 

Checks the wild passion of the soul; 

Who on the fires of anger throw 

The cooling drops that check their glow. 

But woe is me, whom wrath could lead 

To do this senseless shameless deed. 



1494 The Ramayana 

The town to fire and death I gave, 
Nor thought of her I came to save, — 
Doomed by my own rash folly, doomed 
To perish in the flames consumed. 
If I, when anger drove me wild, 
Have caused the death of Janak's child, 
The kindled flame shall end my woe, 
Or the deep fires that burn below, 886 
Or my forsaken corse shall be 
Food for the monsters of the sea. 
How can I meet Sugriva? how 
Before the royal brothers bow, — 
I whose rash deed has madly foiled, 
The noble work in which we toiled? 
Or has her own bright virtue shed 
Its guardian influence round her head? 
She lives untouched, — the peerless dame; 
Flame has no fury for the flame. 887 
The very fire would ne'er consent 
To harm a queen so excellent, — 
The high-souled Rama's faithful wife, 
Protected by her holy life. 
She lives, she lives. Why should I fear 
For one whom Raghu's sons hold dear? 
Has not the pitying fire that spared 
The Vanar for the lady cared?" 

Such were his thoughts: he pondered long, 
And fear grew faint and hope grew strong. 
Then round him heavenly voices rang, 
And, sweetly tuned, his praises sang: 
"O glorious is the exploit done 



The fire which is supposed to burn beneath the sea. 
87 Sfta is likened to the fire which is an emblem of purity. 



Canto LVI. Mount Arishta. 1495 

By Hanuman the Wind-God's son. 
The flames o'er Lanka's city rise: 
The giants' home in ruin lies. 
O'er roof and wall the fires have spread, 
Nor harmed a hair of Sita's head." 



Canto LVI. Mount Arishta. 



He looked upon the burning waste, 

Then sought the queen in joyous haste, 

With words of hope consoled her heart, 

And made him ready to depart. [425] 

He scaled Arishta's glorious steep 

Whose summits beetled o'er the deep. 

The woods in varied beauty dressed 

Hung like a garland round his crest, 

And clouds of ever changing hue 

A robe about his shoulders threw. 

On him the rays of morning fell 

To wake the hill they loved so well, 

And bid unclose those splendid eyes 

That glittered in his mineral dyes. 

He woke to hear the music made 

By thunders of the white cascade, 

While every laughing rill that sprang 

From crag to crag its carol sang. 

For arms, he lifted to the stars 

His towering stems of Deodars, 

And morning heard his pealing call 

In tumbling brook and waterfall. 

He trembled when his woods were pale 



1496 The Ramayana 

And bowed beneath the autumn gale, 
And when his vocal reeds were stirred 
His melancholy moan was heard. 

Far down against the mountain's feet 
The Vanar heard the wild waves beat; 
Then turned his glances to the north. 
Sprang from the peak and bounded forth, 
The mountain felt the fearful shock 
And trembled through his mass of rock. 
The tallest trees were crushed and rent 
And headlong to the valley sent, 
And as the rocking shook each cave 
Loud was the roar the lions gave. 
Forth from the shaken cavern came 
Fierce serpents with their tongues aflame; 
And every Yaksha, wild with dread, 
And Kinnar and Gandharva, fled. 



Canto LVII. Hanuman's Return. 



Still, like a winged mountain, he 
Sprang forward through the airy sea, 8 



I omit two stanzas which continue the metaphor of the sea or lake of air. The 
moon is its lotus, the sun its wild-duck, the clouds are its water-weeds, Mars 
is its shark and so on. Gorresio remarks: "This comparison of a great lake to 
the sky and of celestial to aquatic objects is one of those ideas which the view 
and qualities of natural scenery awake in lively fancies. Imagine one of those 
grand and splendid lakes of India covered with lotus blossoms, furrowed by 
wild-ducks of the most vivid colours, mantled over here and there with flowers 
and water weeds &c. and it will be understood how the fancy of the poet could 
readily compare to the sky radiant with celestial azure the blue expanse of the 



Canto LVII. Hanuman's Return. 1497 

And rushing through the ether drew 
The clouds to follow as he flew, 
Through the great host around him spread, 
Grey, golden, dark, and white, and red. 
Now in a sable cloud immersed, 
Now from its gloomy pall he burst, 
Like the bright Lord of Stars concealed 
A moment, and again revealed. 
Sunabha 889 passed, he neared the coast 
Where waited still the Vanar host. 
They heard a rushing in the skies, 
And lifted up their wondering eyes. 
His wild triumphant shout they knew 
That louder still and louder grew, 
And Jambavan with eager voice 
Called on the Vanars to rejoice: 
"Look he returns, the Wind-God's son, 
And full success his toils have won; 
Triumphant is the shout that comes 
Like music of a thousand drums." 

Up sprang the Vanars from the ground 
And listened to the wondrous sound 
Of hurtling arm and thigh as through 
The region of the air he flew, 
Loud as the wind, when tempests rave, 
Roars in the prison of the cave. 
From crag to crag, from height to height; 
They bounded in their mad delight, 
And when he touched the mountain's crest, 



water, to the soft light of the moon the inner hue of the lotus, to the splendour 
of the sun the brilliant colours of the wild-fowl, to the stars the flowers, to the 
cloud the weeds that float upon the water &c." 

89 Sunabha is the mountain that rose from the sea when Hanuman passed over 
to Lanka. 



1498 The Ramayana 

With reverent welcome round him pressed. 
They brought him of their woodland fruits, 
They brought him of the choicest roots, 
And laughed and shouted in their glee 
The noblest of their chiefs to see. 
Nor Hanuman delayed to greet 
Sage Jambavan with reverence meet; 
To Angad and the chiefs he bent 
For age and rank preeminent, 
And briefly spoke: "These eyes have seen, 
These lips addressed, the Maithil queen." 
They sat beneath the waving trees, 
And Angad spoke in words like these: 
"O noblest of the Vanar kind 
For valour power and might combined, 
To thee triumphant o'er the foe 
Our hopes, our lives and all we owe. 
[426] O faithful heart in perils tried, 

Which toil nor fear could turn aside, 

Thy deed the lady will restore, 

And Rama's heart will ache no more." 890 



Canto LVIII. The Feast Of Honey. 

They rose in air: the region grew 
Dark with their shadow as they flew. 
Swift to a lovely grove 891 they came 
That rivalled heavenly Nandan's 892 fame; 



890 Three Cantos of repetition are omitted. 

891 Madhuvan the "honey-wood." 

892 Indra's pleasure-ground or elysium. 



Canto LVIII. The Feast Of Honey. 1499 

Where countless bees their honey stored, — 
The pleasance of the Vanars' lord, 
To every creature fenced and barred, 
Which Dadhimukh was set to guard, 
A noble Vanar, brave and bold, 
Sugriva's uncle lofty-souled. 
To Angad came with one accord 
The Vanars, and besought their lord 
That they those honeyed stores might eat 
That made the grove so passing sweet. 

He gave consent: they sought the trees 
Thronged with innumerable bees. 
They rifled all the treasured store, 
And ate the fruit the branches bore, 
And still as they prolonged the feast 
Their merriment and joy increased. 
Drunk with the sweets, they danced and bowed, 
They wildly sang, they laughed aloud, 
Some climbed and sprang from tree to tree, 
Some sat and chattered in their glee. 
Some scaled the trees which creepers crowned, 
And rained the branches to the ground. 
There with loud laugh a Vanar sprang 
Close to his friend who madly sang, 
In doleful mood another crept 
To mix his tears with one who wept. 

Then Dadhimukh with fury viewed 
The intoxicated multitude. 
He looked upon the rifled shade, 
And all the ruin they had made; 
Then called with angry voice, and strove 
To save the remnant of the grove. 



1500 The Ramayana 

But warning cries and words were spurned, 
And angry taunt and threat returned. 
Then fierce and wild contention rose: 
With furious words he mingled blows. 
They by no shame or fear withheld, 
By drunken mood and ire impelled, 
Used claws, and teeth, and hands, and beat 
The keeper under trampling feet. 

[Three Cantos consisting of little but repetitions are omitted. 
Dadhimukh escapes from the infuriated monkeys and hastens to 
Sugriva to report their misconduct. Sugriva infers that Hanuman 
and his band have been successful in their search, and that the 
exuberance of spirits and the mischief complained of, are but the 
natural expression of their joy. Dadhimukh obtains little sympa- 
thy from Sugriva, and is told to return and send the monkeys on 
with all possible speed.] 



Canto LXV. The Tidings. 

On to Prasravan's hill they sped 

Where blooming trees their branches spread. 

To Raghu's sons their heads they bent 

And did obeisance reverent. 

Then to their king, by Angad led, 

Each Vanar chieftain bowed his head; 

And Hanuman the brave and bold 

His tidings to the monarch told; 

But first in Rama's hand he placed 

The gem that Sita's brow had graced: 

"I crossed the sea: I searched a while 

For Sita in the giants' isle. 



Canto LXVI. Rama's Speech. 1501 

I found her vext with taunt and threat 
By demon guards about her set. 
Her tresses twined in single braid, 
On the bare earth her limbs were laid. 
Sad were her eyes: her cheeks were pale 
As shuddering flowers in winter's gale. 
I stood beside the weeping dame, 
And gently whispered Rama's name: 
With cheering words her grief consoled, 
And then the whole adventure told. 
She weeps afar beyond the sea, 
And her true heart is still with thee. 
She gave a sign that thou wouldst know, 
She bids thee think upon the crow, 
And bright mark pressed upon her brow 
When none was nigh but she and thou. 
She bids thee take this precious stone, 
The sea-born gem thou long hast known. 
"And I," she said, "will dull the sting 
Of woe by gazing on the ring. 
One little month shall I sustain 
This life oppressed with woe and pain: 
And when the month is ended, I 
The giants' prey must surely die. ' " 



[427] 



Canto LXVI. Rama's Speech. 



1502 The Ramayana 

There ceased the Vanar: Rama pressed 
The treasured jewel to his breast, 
And from his eyes the waters broke 
As to the Vanar king he spoke: 
"As o'er her babe the mother weeps, 
This flood of tears the jewel steeps. 
This gem that shone on Sita's head 
Was Janak's gift when we were wed, 
And the pure brow that wore it lent 
New splendour to the ornament. 
This gem, bright offspring of the wave, 
The King of Heaven to Janak gave, 
Whose noble sacrificial rite 
Had filled the God with new delight. 
Now, as I gaze upon the prize, 
Methinks I see my father's eyes. 
Methinks I see before me stand 
The ruler of Videha's land. 893 
Methinks mine arms are folded now 
Round her who wore it on her brow. 
Speak, Hanuman, O say, dear friend, 
What message did my darling send? 
O speak, and let thy words impart 
Their gentle dew to cool my heart. 
Ah, 'tis the crown of woe to see 
This gem and ask "Where, where is she?" 
If for one month her heart be strong, 
Her days of life will yet be long. 
But I, with naught to lend relief, 
This very day must die of grief. 
Come, Hanuman, and quickly guide 
The mourner to his darling's side. 



893 Janak was king of Videha or Mithila in Behar. 



Canto LXVI. Rama's Speech. 1503 

lead me — thou hast learnt the way — 

1 cannot and I will not stay. 
How can my gentle love endure, 
So timid, delicate, and pure, 

The dreadful demons fierce and vile 
Who watch her in the guarded isle? 
No more the light of beauty shines 
From Sita as she weeps and pines. 
But pain and sorrow, cloud on cloud 
Her moonlight glory dim and shroud. 
O speak, dear Hanuman, and tell 
Each word that from her sweet lips fell, 
Her words, her words alone can give 
The healing balm to make me live." 894 



894 The original contains two more Cantos which end the Book. Canto LXVII 
begins thus: "Hanuman thus addressed by the great-souled son of Raghu related 
to the son of Raghu all that Sita had said." And the two Cantos contain nothing 
but Hanuman's account of his interview with Sita, and the report of his own 
speeches as well as of hers. 



BOOK VI. 895 



Canto I. Rama's Speech. 



The son of Raghu heard, consoled, 
The wondrous tale Hanuman told; 
And, as his joyous hope grew high, 
In friendly words he made reply: 

"Behold a mighty task achieved, 
Which never heart but his conceived. 
Who else across the sea can spring, 
Save Vayu 896 and the Feathered King? 897 
Who, pass the portals strong and high 
Which Nagas, 898 Gods, and fiends defy, 
Where Ravan's hosts their station keep, — 
And come uninjured o'er the deep? 
By such a deed the Wind-God's son 
Good service to the king has done, 
And saved from ruin and disgrace 
Lakshman and me and Raghu's race. 
Well has he planned and bravely fought, 



895 The Sixth Book is called in Sanskrit Yuddha-Kdnda or The War, and 
Lankd-Kdnda. It is generally known at the present day by the latter title. 

896 Vayu is the God of Wind. 

897 Garuda the King of Birds. 

898 Serpent-Gods. 



Canto II. Sugriva's Speech. 1505 

And with due care my lady sought. 
But of the sea I sadly think, 
And the sweet hopes that cheered me sink. 
How can we cross the leagues of foam 
That keep us from the giant's home? 
What can the Vanar legions more 
Than muster on the ocean shore?" 



Canto II. Sugriva's Speech. 

He ceased: and King Sugriva tried 

To calm his grief, and thus replied: 

'"Be to thy nobler nature true, 

Nor let despair thy soul subdue. 

This cloud of causeless woe dispel, 

For all as yet has prospered well, 

And we have traced thy queen, and know 

The dwelling of our Rakshas foe. 

Arise, consult: thy task must be 

To cast a bridge athwart the sea, 

The city of our foe to reach 

That crowns the mountain by the beach; [428] 

And when our feet that isle shall tread, 

Rejoice and deem thy foeman dead. 

The sea unbridged, his walls defy 

Both fiends and children of the sky, 

Though at the fierce battalions' head 

Lord Indra's self the onset led. 

Yea, victory is thine before 

The long bridge touch the farther shore, 

So fleet and fierce and strong are these 



1506 The Ramayana 

Who limb them as their fancies please. 
Away with grief and sad surmise 
That mar the noblest enterprise, 
And with their weak suspicion blight 
The sage's plan, the hero's might. 
Come, this degenerate weakness spurn, 
And bid thy dauntless heart return, 
For each fair hope by grief is crossed 
When those we love are dead or lost. 
Arise, O best of those who know, 
Arm for the giant's overthrow. 
None in the triple world I see 
Who in the fight may equal thee; 
None who before thy face may stand 
And brave the bow that arms thy hand, 
Trust to these mighty Vanars: they 
With full success thy trust will pay, 
When thou shalt reach the robber's hold, 
And loving arms round Sita fold." 



Canto III. Lanka. 



He ceased: and Raghu's son gave heed, 
Attentive to his prudent rede: 
Then turned again, with hope inspired, 
To Hanuman, and thus inquired: 



Canto III. Lanka. 1507 

"Light were the task for thee, I ween, 
To bridge the sea that gleams between 
The mainland and the island shore. 
Or dry the deep and guide as o'er. 
Fain would I learn from thee whose feet 
Have trod the stones of every street, 
Of fenced Lanka's towers and forts, 
And walls and moats and guarded ports, 
And castles where the giants dwell, 
And battlemented citadel. 
O Vayu's son, describe it all, 
With palace, fort, and gate, and wall." 

He ceased: and, skilled in arts that guide 
The eloquent, the chief replied: 

"Vast is the city, gay and strong, 
Where elephants unnumbered throng, 
And countless hosts of Rakshas breed 
Stand ready by the car and steed. 
Four massive gates, securely barred, 
All entrance to the city guard, 
With murderous engines fixt to throw 
Bolt, arrow, rock to check the foe, 
And many a mace with iron head 
That strikes at once a hundred dead. 
Her golden ramparts wide and high 
With massy strength the foe defy, 
Where inner walls their rich inlay 
Of coral, turkis, pearl display. 
Her circling moats are broad and deep, 
Where ravening monsters dart and leap. 
By four great piers each moat is spanned 
Where lines of deadly engines stand. 



1508 The Ramayana 

In sleepless watch at every gate 
Unnumbered hosts of giants wait, 
And, masters of each weapon, rear 
The threatening pike and sword and spear. 
My fury hurled those ramparts down, 
Filled up the moats that gird the town, 
The piers and portals overturned, 
And stately Lanka spoiled and burned. 
Howe'er we Vanars force our way 
O'er the wide seat of Varun's 899 sway, 
Be sure that city of the foe 
Is doomed to sudden overthrow, 
Nay, why so vast an army lead? 
Brave Angad, Dwivid good at need, 
Fierce Mainda, Panas famed in fight, 
And Nfla's skill and Nala's might, 
And Jambavan the strong and wise, 
Will dare the easy enterprise. 
Assailed by these shall Lanka fall 
With gate and rampart, tower and wall. 
Command the gathering, chief: and they 
In happy hour will haste away." 



Canto IV. The March. 



He ceased; and spurred by warlike pride 
The impetuous son of Raghu cried: 
"Soon shall mine arm with wrathful joy 
That city of the foe destroy. 



1 The God of the sea. 



Canto IV. The March. 1509 

Now, chieftain, now collect the host, 

And onward to the southern coast! 

The sun in his meridian tower 

Gives glory to the Vanar power. 

The demon lord who stole my queen 

By timely flight his life may screen. 

She, when she knows her lord is near, 

Will cling to hope and banish fear, 

Saved like a dying wretch who sips 

The drink of Gods with fevered lips. 

Arise, thy troops to battle lead: 

All happy omens counsel speed. 

The Lord of Stars in favouring skies 

Bodes glory to our enterprise. 

This arm shall slay the fiend; and she, 

My consort, shall again be free. [429] 

Mine upward-throbbing eye foreshows 

The longed-for triumph o'er my foes. 

Far in the van be Nila's post, 

To scan the pathway for the host, 

And let thy bravest and thy best, 

A hundred thousand, wait his hest. 

Go forth, O warrior Nfla, lead 

The legions on through wood and mead 

Where pleasant waters cool the ground, 

And honey, flowers, and fruit abound. 

Go, and with timely care prevent 

The Rakshas foeman's dark intent. 

With watchful troops each valley guard 

Ere brooks and fruits and roots be marred 

And search each glen and leafy shade 

For hostile troops in ambuscade. 

But let the weaklings stay behind: 

For heroes is our task designed. 



1510 The Ramay ana 

Let thousands of the Vanar breed 
The vanguard of the armies lead: 
Fierce and terrific must it be 
As billows of the stormy sea. 
There be the hill-huge Gaja's place, 
And Gavaya's, strongest of his race, 
And, like the bull that leads the herd, 
Gavaksha's, by no fears deterred 
Let Rishabh, matchless in the might 
Of warlike arms, protect our right, 
And Gandhamadan next in rank 
Defend and guide the other flank. 
I, like the God who rules the sky 
Borne on Airavat 900 mounted high 
On stout Hanuman's back will ride, 
The central host to cheer and guide. 
Fierce as the God who rules below, 
On Angad's back let Lakshman show 
Like him who wealth to mortals shares, 901 
The lord whom Sarvabhauma 902 bears. 
The bold Sushen's impetuous might, 
And VegadarsTs piercing sight, 
And Jambavan whom bears revere, 
Illustrious three, shall guard the rear." 

He ceased, the royal Vanar heard, 
And swift, obedient to his word, 
Sprang forth in numbers none might tell 
From mountain, cave, and bosky dell, 
From rocky ledge and breezy height, 
Fierce Vanars burning for the fight. 



900 Indra's elephant. 

901 Kuvera, God of wealth. 

902 Kuvera's elephant. 



Canto IV. The March. 1511 

And Rama's course was southward bent 
Amid the mighty armament. 
On, joyous, pressed in close array 
The hosts who owned Sugriva's sway, 
With nimble feet, with rapid bound 
Exploring, ere they passed, the ground, 
While from ten myriad throats rang out 
The challenge and the battle shout. 
On roots and honeycomb they fed, 
And clusters from the boughs o'erhead, 
Or from the ground the tall trees tore 
Rich with the flowery load they bore. 
Some carried comrades, wild with mirth, 
Then cast their riders to the earth, 
Who swiftly to their feet arose 
And overthrew their laughing foes. 
While still rang out the general cry, 
"King Ravan and his fiends shall die," 
Still on, exulting in the pride 
Of conscious strength, the Vanars hied, 
And gazed where noble Sahya, best 
Of mountains, raised each towering crest. 
They looked on lake and streamlet, where 
The lotus bloom was bright and fair, 
Nor marched — for Rama's hest they feared 
Where town or haunt of men appeared. 
Still onward, fearful as the waves 
Of Ocean when he roars and raves, 
Led by their eager chieftains, went 
The Vanars' countless armament. 
Each captain, like a noble steed 
Urged by the lash to double speed. 
Pressed onward, filled with zeal and pride, 
By Rama's and his brother's side, 



1512 The Ramay ana 

Who high above the Vanar throng 
On mighty backs were borne along, 
Like the great Lords of Day and Night 
Seized by eclipsing planets might. 
Then Lakshman radiant as the morn, 
On Angad's shoulders high upborne. 
With sweet consoling words that woke 
New ardour, to his brother spoke: 
"Soon shalt thou turn, thy queen regained 
And impious Ravan's life-blood drained, 
In happiness and high renown 
To dear Ayodhya's happy town. 
I see around exceeding fair 
All omens of the earth and air. 
Auspicious breezes sweet and low 
To greet the Vanar army blow, 
And softly to my listening ear 
Come the glad cries of bird and deer. 
Bright is the sky around us, bright 
Without a cloud the Lord of Light, 
And Sukra 903 with propitious love 
Looks on thee from his throne above. 
The pole-star and the Sainted Seven 904 
Shine brightly in the northern heaven, 
[430] And great Trisanku, 905 glorious king, 

Ikshvaku's son from whom we spring, 
Beams in unclouded glory near 
His holy priest 906 whom all revere. 



903 The planet Venus, or its regent who is regarded as the son of Bhrigu and 
preceptor of the Daityas. 



hemisphere. The story in told in Book I, Canto LX. 

906 The sage Visvamitra, who performed for Trisanku the great sacrifice which 



Canto IV. The March. 1513 

Undimmed the two Visakhas 907 shine, 
The strength and glory of our line, 
And Nairrit's 908 influence that aids 
Our Rakshas foemen faints and fades. 
The running brooks are fresh and fair, 
The boughs their ripening clusters bear, 
And scented breezes gently sway 
The leaflet of the tender spray. 
See, with a glory half divine 
The Vanars' ordered legions shine, 
Bright as the Gods' exultant train 
Who saw the demon Tarak slain. 
O let thine eyes these signs behold, 
And bid thy heart be glad and bold." 

The Vanar squadrons densely spread 
O'er all the country onward sped, 
While rising from the rapid beat 
Of bears' and monkeys' hastening feet. 
Dust hid the earth with thickest veil, 
And made the struggling sunbeams pale. 
Now where Mahendra's peaks arise 
Came Rama of the lotus eyes 
And the long arm's resistless might, 
And clomb the mountain's wood-crowned height. 
Thence Dasaratha's son beheld 
Where billowy Ocean rose and swelled, 
Past Malaya's peaks and Sahya's chain 
The Vanar legions reached the main, 
And stood in many a marshalled band 



raised him to the heavens 

907 



One of the lunar asterisms containing four or originally two stars under the 
regency of a dual divinity Indragni, Indra and Agni. 
908 The lunar asterism Mula, belonging to the Rakshases. 



1514 The Ramayana 

On loud-resounding Ocean's strand. 
To the fair wood that fringed the tide 
Came Dasaratha's son, and cried: 
"At length, my lord Sugriva, we 
Have reached King Varan's realm the sea, 
And one great thought, still-vexing, how 
To cross the flood, awaits us now. 
The broad deep ocean, that denies 
A passage, stretched before us lies. 
Then let us halt and plan the while 
How best to storm the giant's isle." 

He ceased: Sugriva on the coast 
By trees o'ershadowed stayed the host, 
That seemed in glittering lines to be 
The bright waves of a second sea. 
Then from the shore the captains gazed 
On billows which the breezes raised 
To fury, as they dashed in foam 
O'er Varan's realm, the Asurs' home: 909 
The sea that laughed with foam, and danced 
With waves whereon the sunbeams glanced: 
Where, when the light began to fade, 
Huge crocodiles and monsters played; 
And, when the moon went up the sky, 
The troubled billows rose on high 
From the wild watery world whereon 
A thousand moons reflected shone: 
Where awful serpents swam and showed 
Their fiery crests which flashed and glowed, 
Illumining the depths of hell, 
The prison where the demons dwell. 
The eye, bewildered, sought in vain 



909 The Asurs or demons dwell imprisoned in the depths beneath the sea. 



Canto V. Rama's Lament. 1515 

The bounding line of sky and main: 

Alike in shade, alike in glow 

Were sky above and sea below. 

There wave-like clouds by clouds were chased, 

Here cloud-like billows roared and raced: 

Then shone the stars, and many a gem 

That lit the waters answered them. 

They saw the great-souled Ocean stirred 

To frenzy by the winds, and heard, 

Loud as ten thousand drums, the roar 

Of wild waves dashing on the shore. 

They saw him mounting to defy 

With deafening voice the troubled sky. 

And the deep bed beneath him swell 

In fury as the billows fell. 



Canto V. Rama's Lament. 



There on the coast in long array 
The Vanars' marshalled legions lay, 
Where Nila's care had ordered well 
The watch of guard and sentinel, 
And Mainda moved from post to post 
With Dwivid to protect the host. 



1516 The Ramay ana 

Then Rama stood by Lakshman's side, 
And mastered by his sorrow cried: 
"My brother dear, the heart's distress, 
As days wear on, grows less and less. 
But my deep-seated grief, alas, 
Grows fiercer as the seasons pass. 
Though for my queen my spirit longs, 
And broods indignant o'er my wrongs, 
Still wilder is my grief to know 
That her young life is passed in woe. 
Breathe, gentle gale, O breathe where she 
[431] Lies prisoned, and then breathe on me, 

And, though my love I may not meet, 
Thy kiss shall be divinely sweet. 
Ah, by the giant's shape appalled, 
On her dear lord for help she called, 
Still in mine ears the sad cry rings 
And tears my heart with poison stings. 
Through the long daylight and the gloom 
Of night wild thoughts of her consume 
My spirit, and my love supplies 
The torturing flame which never dies. 
Leave me, my brother; I will sleep 
Couched on the bosom of the deep, 
For the cold wave may bring me peace 
And bid the fire of passion cease. 
One only thought my stay must be, 
That earth, one earth, holds her and me, 
To hear, to know my darling lives 
Some life-supporting comfort gives, 
As streams from distant fountains run 
O'er meadows parching in the sun. 
Ah when, my foeman at my feet, 
Shall I my queen, my glory, meet, 



Canto VI. Ravan's Speech. 1517 

The blossom of her dear face raise 
And on her eyes enraptured gaze, 
Press her soft lips to mine again, 
And drink a balm to banish pain! 
Alas, alas! where lies she now, 
My darling of the lovely brow? 
On the cold earth, no help at hand, 
Forlorn amid the Rakshas band, 
King Janak's child still calls on me, 
Her lord and love, to set her free. 
But soon in glory will she rise 
A crescent moon in autumn skies, 
And those dark rovers of the night, 
Like scattered clouds shall turn in flight." 



Canto VI. Ravan's Speech. 

But when the giant king surveyed 
His glorious town in ruin laid, 
And each dire sign of victory won 
By Hanuman the Wind-God's son, 
He vailed his angry eyes oppressed 
By shame, and thus his lords addressed: 
"The Vanar spy has passed the gate 
Of Lanka long inviolate, 
Eluded watch and ward, and seen 
With his bold eyes the captive queen. 
My royal roof with flames is red, 
The bravest of my lords are dead, 
And the fierce Vanar in his hate 
Has left our city desolate. 



1518 The Ramay ana 

Now ponder well the work that lies 

Before us, ponder and advise. 

With deep-observing judgment scan 

The peril, and mature a plan. 

From counsel, sages say, the root, 

Springs victory, most glorious fruit. 

First ranks the king, when woe impends 

Who seeks the counsel of his friends, 

Of kinsmen ever faithful found, 

Or those whose hopes with his are bound, 

Then with their aid his strength applies, 

And triumphs in his enterprise. 

Next ranks the prince who plans alone, 

No counsel seeks to aid his own, 

Weighs loss and gain and wrong and right, 

And seeks success with earnest might. 

Unwisest he who spurns delays, 

Who counts no cost, no peril weighs, 

Speeds to his aim, defying fate, 

And risks his all, precipitate. 

Thus too in counsel sages find 

A best, a worst, a middle kind. 

When gathered counsellors explore 

The way by light of holy lore, 

And all from first to last agree, 

Is the best counsel of the three. 

Next, if debate first waxes high, 

And each his chosen plan would try 

Till all agree at last, we deem 

This counsel second in esteem. 

Worst of the three is this, when each 

Assails with taunt his fellow's speech; 

When all debate, and no consent 

Concludes the angry argument. 



Canto VII. Ravan Encouraged. 1519 

Consult then, lords; my task shall be 
To crown with act your wise decree. 
With thousands of his wild allies 
The vengeful Rama hither hies; 
With unresisted might and speed 
Across the flood his troops will lead, 
Or for the Vanar host will drain 
The channels of the conquered main." 



Canto VII. Ravan Encouraged. 



He ceased: they scorned, with blinded eyes, 

The foeman and his bold allies, 

Raised reverent hands with one accord, 

And thus made answer to their lord: 

"Why yield thee, King, to causeless fear? 

A mighty host with sword and spear 

And mace and axe and pike and lance 

Waits but thy signal to advance. 

Art thou not he who slew of old 

The Serpent-Gods, and stormed their hold; 

Scaled Mount Kailasa and o'erthrew 

Kuvera 910 and his Yaksha crew, [432] 



910 The God of Riches, brother and enemy of Ravan and first possessor of 
Pushpak the flying car. 



1520 The Ramayana 

Compelling Siva's haughty friend 
Beneath a mightier arm to bend? 
Didst thou not bring from realms afar 
The marvel of the magic car, 
When they who served Kuvera fell 
Crushed in their mountain citadel? 
Attracted by thy matchless fame 
To thee, a suppliant, Maya came, 
The lord of every Danav band, 
And won thee with his daughter's hand. 
Thy arm in hell itself was felt, 
Where Vasuki 911 and Sankha dwelt, 
And they and Takshak, overthrown, 
Were forced thy conquering might to own. 
The Gods in vain their blessing gave 
To heroes bravest of the brave, 
Who strove a year and, sorely pressed, 
Their victor's peerless might confessed. 
In vain their magic arts they tried, 
In vain thy matchless arm defied 
King Varun's sons with fourfold force, 
Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse, 
But for a while thy power withstood, 
And, conquered, mourned their hardihood. 
Thou hast encountered, face to face, 
King Yama 912 with his murdering mace. 
Fierce as the wild tempestuous sea, 
What terror had his wrath for thee, 
Though death in every threatening form, 
And woe and torment, urged the storm? 
Thine arm a glorious victory won 



911 King of the Serpents. Sankha and Takshak are two of the eight Serpent 
Chiefs. 

912 The God of Death, the Pluto of the Hindus. 



Canto VIII. Prahasta's Speech. 1521 

O'er the dread king who pities none; 
And the three worlds, from terror freed, 
In joyful wonder praised thy deed. 
The tribe of Warriors, strong and dread 
As Indra's self, o'er earth had spread; 
As giant trees that towering stand 
In mountain glens, they filled the land. 
Can Raghu's son encounter foes 
Fierce, numerous, and strong as those? 
Yet, trained in war and practised well, 
O'ermatched by thee, they fought and fell, 
Stay in thy royal home, nor care 
The battle and the toil to share; 
But let the easy fight be won 
By Indrajit 913 thy matchless son. 
All, all shall die, if thou permit, 
Slain by the hand of Indrajit." 



Canto VIII. Prahasta's Speech. 



Dark as a cloud of autumn, dread 
Prahasta joined his palms and said: 



913 Literally Indra's conqueror, so called from his victory over that God. 



1522 The Ramayana 

"Gandharvas, Gods, the hosts who dwell 
In heaven, in air, in earth, in hell, 
Have yielded to thy might, and how 
Shall two weak men oppose thee now? 
Hanuman came, a foe disguised, 
And mocked us heedless and surprised, 
Or never had he lived to flee 
And boast that he has fought with me. 
Command, O King, and this right hand 
Shall sweep the Vanars from the land, 
And hill and dale, to Ocean's shore, 
Shall know the death-doomed race no more. 
But let my care the means devise 
To guard thy city from surprise." 



Then Durmukh cried, of Rakshas race: 
"Too long we brook the dire disgrace. 
He gave our city to the flames, 
He trod the chambers of thy dames. 
Ne'er shall so weak and vile a thing 
Unpunished brave the giants' king. 
Now shall this single arm attack 
And drive the daring Vanars back, 
Till to the winds of heaven they flee, 
Or seek the depths of earth and sea." 



Then, brandishing the mace he bore, 
Whose horrid spikes were stained with gore, 
While fury made his eyeballs red, 
Impetuous Vajradanshtra said: 



Canto VIII. Prahasta's Speech. 1523 

"Why waste a thought on one so vile 
As Hanuman the Vanar, while 
Sugriva, Lakshman, yet remain, 
And Rama mightier still, unslain? 
This mace to-day shall crush the three, 
And all the host will turn and flee. 
Listen, and I will speak: incline, 
O King, to hear these words of mine, 
For the deep plan that I propose 
Will swiftly rid thee of thy foes. 
Let thousands of thy host assume 
The forms of men in youthful bloom, 
In war's magnificent array 
Draw near to Raghu's son, and say: 
"Thy younger brother Bharat sends 
This army, and thy cause befriends." 
Then let our legions hasten near 
With bow and mace and sword and spear, 
And on the Vanar army rain 
Our steel and stone till all be slain. 
If Raghu's sons will fain believe, 
Entangled in the net we weave, 
The penalty they both must pay, 

And lose their forfeit lives to-day." [433] 

Then with his warrior soul on fire, 
Nikumbha spoke in burning ire: 



"I, only I, will take the field, 
And Raghu's son his life shall yield. 
Within these walls, O Chiefs, abide, 
Nor part ye from our monarch's side." 



1524 The Ramayana 

Canto IX. Vibhishan's Counsel. 



A score of warriors 914 forward sprang, 
And loud the clashing iron rang 
Of mace and axe and spear and sword, 
As thus they spake unto their lord: 
"Their king Sugriva will we slay, 
And Raghu's sons, ere close of day, 
And strike the wretch Haniiman down, 
The spoiler of our golden town." 



But sage Vibhishan strove to calm 
The chieftains' fury; palm to palm 
He joined in lowly reverence, pressed 915 

Before them, and the throng addressed: 



914 Their names are Nikumbha, Rabhasa, Suryasatru, Suptaghna, Yajnakopa, 
Mahaparsva, Mahodara, Agniketu, Rasmiketu, Durdharsha, Indrasatru, Pra- 
hasta, Virupaksha, Vajradanshtra, Dhumraksha, Durmukha, Mahabala. 

915 Similarly Anterior urges the restoration of Helen: 



"Let Sparta's treasures be this hour restored, 
And Argive Helen own her ancient lord. 
As this advice ye practise or reject, 
So hope success, or dread the dire effect," 



POPE'S{FNS Homer's Iliad, Book VII. 



Canto IX. Vibhishan's Counsel. 1525 

"Dismiss the hope of conquering one 
So stern and strong as Raghu's son. 
In due control each sense he keeps 
With constant care that never sleeps. 
Whose daring heart has e'er conceived 
The exploit Hanuman achieved, 
Across the fearful sea to spring, 
The tributary rivers' king? 
O Rakshas lords, in time be wise, 
Nor Rama's matchless power despise. 
And say, what evil had the son 
Of Raghu to our monarch done, 
Who stole the dame he loved so well 
And keeps her in his citadel; 
If Khara in his foolish pride 
Encountered Rama, fought, and died, 
May not the meanest love his life 
And guard it in the deadly strife? 
The Maithil dame, O Rakshas King, 
Sore peril to thy realm will bring. 
Restore her while there yet is time, 
Nor let us perish for thy crime. 
O, let the Maithil lady go 
Ere the avenger bend his bow 
To ruin with his arrowy showers 
Our Lanka with her gates and towers. 
Let Janak's child again be free 
Ere the wild Vanars cross the sea, 
In their resistless might assail 
Our city and her ramparts scale. 
Ah, I conjure thee by the ties 
Of brotherhood, be just and wise. 
In all my thoughts thy good I seek, 
And thus my prudent counsel speak. 



1526 The Ramayana 

Let captive Sita be restored 
Ere, fierce as autumn's sun, her lord 
Send his keen arrows from the string 
To drink the life-blood of our king. 
This fury from thy soul dismiss, 
The bane of duty, peace, and bliss. 
Seek duty's path and walk therein, 
And joy and endless glory win. 
Restore the captive, ere we feel 
The piercing point of Rama's steel. 
O spare thy city, spare the lives 
Of us, our friends, our sons and wives." 

Thus spake Vibhishan wise and brave: 
The Rakshas king no answer gave, 
But bade his lords the council close, 
And sought his chamber for repose. 



Canto X. Vibhishan's Counsel. 



Soon as the light of morning broke, 

Vibhishan from his slumber woke, 

And, duty guiding every thought, 

The palace of his brother sought. 

Vast as a towering hill that shows 

His peaks afar, that palace rose. 

Here stood within the monarch's gate 

Sage nobles skilful in debate. 

There strayed in glittering raiment through 

The courts his royal retinue, 

Where in wild measure rose and fell 



Canto X. Vibhishan's Counsel. 1527 

The music of the drum and shell, 

And talk grew loud, and many a dame 

Of fairest feature went and came 

Through doors a marvel to behold, 

With pearl inlaid on burning gold: 

Therein Gandharvas or the fleet 

Lords of the storm might joy to meet. 

He passed within the wondrous pile, 

Chief glory of the giants' isle: 

Thus, ere his fiery course be done, 

An autumn cloud admits the sun. [434] 

He heard auspicious voices raise 

With loud accord the note of praise, 

And sages, deep in Scripture, sing 

Each glorious triumph of the king. 

He saw the priests in order stand, 

Curd, oil, in every sacred hand; 

And by them flowers were laid and grain, 

Due offerings to the holy train. 

Vibhishan to the monarch bowed, 

Raised on a throne above the crowd: 

Then, skilled in arts of soft address, 

He raised his voice the king to bless, 

And sate him on a seat where he 

Full in his brother's sight should be. 

The chieftain there, while none could hear, 

Spoke his true speech for Ravan's ear, 

And to his words of wisdom lent 

The force of weightiest argument: 

"O brother, hear! since Rama's queen 
A captive in thy house has been, 
Disastrous omens day by day 
Have struck our souls with wild dismay. 



1528 The Ramayana 

No longer still and strong and clear 

The flames of sacrifice appear, 

But, restless with the frequent spark, 

Neath clouds of smoke grow faint and dark. 

Our ministering priests turn pale 

To see their wonted offerings fail, 

And ants and serpents creep and crawl 

Within the consecrated hall. 916 

Dried are the udders of our cows, 

Our elephants have juiceless brows, 917 

Nor can the sweetest pasture stay 

The charger's long unquiet neigh. 

Big tears from mules and camels flow 

Whose staring coats their trouble show, 

Nor can the leech's art restore 

Their health and vigour as before. 

Rapacious birds are fierce and bold: 

Not single hunters as of old, 

In banded troops they chase the prey, 

Or gathering on our temples stay. 

Through twilight hours with shriek and howl 

Around the city jackals prowl, 

And wolves and foul hysenas wait 

Athirst for blood at every gate. 

One sole atonement still may cure 

These evils, and our weal assure. 

Restore the Maithil dame, and win 

An easy pardon for thy sin." 



916 The Agnisdld or room where the sacrificial fire was kept. 

917 The exudation of a fragrant fluid from the male elephant's temples, espe- 
cially at certain seasons, is frequently spoken of in Sanskrit poetry. It is said to 
deceive and attract the bees, and is regarded as a sign of health and masculine 
vigour. 



Canto XI. The Summons. 1529 

The Rakshas monarch heard, and moved 
To sudden wrath his speech reproved: 

"No danger, brother, can I see: 
The Maithil dame I will not free. 
Though all the Gods for Rama fight, 
He yields to my superior might." 
Thus the tremendous king who broke 
The ranks of heavenly warriors spoke, 
And, sternly purposed to resist, 
His brother from the hall dismissed. 



Canto XI. The Summons. 



Still Ravan's haughty heart rebelled, 
The counsel of the wise repelled, 
And, as his breast with passion burned, 
His thoughts again to Sita turned. 
Thus, to each sign of danger blind, 
To love and war he still inclined. 
Then mounted he his car that glowed 
With gems and golden net, and rode 
Where, gathered at the monarch's call, 
The nobles filled the council hall. 
A host of warriors bright and gay 
With coloured robes and rich array, 
With shield and mace and spear and sword, 
Followed the chariot of their lord. 
Mid the loud voice of shells and beat 
Of drums he raced along the street, 
And, ere he came, was heard afar 



1530 The Ramayana 

The rolling thunder of his car. 
He reached the doors: the nobles bent 
Their heads before him reverent: 
And, welcomed with their loud acclaim, 
Within the glorious hall he came. 
He sat upon a royal seat 
With golden steps beneath his feet, 
And bade the heralds summon all 
His captains to the council hall. 
The heralds heard the words he spake, 
And sped from house to house to wake 
The giants where they slept or spent 
The careless hours in merriment. 
These heard the summons and obeyed: 
From chamber, grove, and colonnade, 
On elephants or cars they rode, 
Or through the streets impatient strode. 
As birds on rustling pinions fly 
Through regions of the darkened sky, 
Thus cars and mettled coursers through 
The crowded streets of Lanka flew. 
The council hall was reached, and then, 
As lions seek their mountain den, 
Through massy doors that opened wide, 
With martial stalk the captains hied. 
Welcomed with honour as was meet 
[435] They stooped to press their monarch's feet, 

And each a place in order found 
On stool, on cushion, or the ground. 
Nor did the sage Vibhishan long 
Delay to join the noble throng. 
High on a car that shone like flame 
With gold and flashing gems he came, 
Drew near and spoke his name aloud, 



Canto XII. Ravan's Speech. 1531 

And reverent to his brother bowed. 



Canto XII. Ravan's Speech. 



The king in counsel unsurpassed 
His eye around the synod cast, 
And fierce Prahasta, first and best 
Of all his captains, thus addressed: 



"Brave master of each warlike art, 
Arouse thee and perform thy part. 
Array thy fourfold forces 918 well 
To guard our isle and citadel." 



The captain of the hosts obeyed, 
The troops with prudent skill arrayed; 
Then to the hall again he hied, 
And stood before the king and cried: 
"Each inlet to the town is closed 
Without, within, are troops disposed. 
With fearless heart thine aim pursue 
And do the deed thou hast in view." 



918 Consisting of warriors on elephants, warriors in chariots, charioteers, and 
infantry. 



1532 The Ramayana 

Thus spoke Prahasta in the zeal 
That moved him for the kingdom's weal. 
And thus the monarch, who pursued 
His own delight, his speech renewed: 
"In ease and bliss, in toil and pain, 
In doubts of duty, pleasure, gain, 
Your proper path I need not tell, 
For of yourselves ye know it well. 
The Storm-Gods, Moon, and planets bring 
New glory to their heavenly king, 919 
And, ranged about your monarch, ye 
Give joy and endless fame to me. 
My secret counsel have I kept, 
While senseless Kumbhakarna slept. 
Six months the warrior's slumbers last 
And bind his torpid senses fast; 
But now his deep repose he breaks, 
The best of all our champions wakes. 
I captured, Rama's heart to wring, 
This daughter of Videha's king. 
And brought her from that distant land 920 
Where wandered many a Rakshas band. 
Disdainful still my love she spurns, 
Still from each prayer and offering turns, 
Yet in all lands beneath the sun 
No dame may rival Sita, none, 
Her dainty waist is round and slight, 
Her cheek like autumn's moon is bright, 
And she like fruit in graven gold 
Mocks her 921 whom Maya framed of old. 



919 Indra, generally represented as surrounded by the Maruts or Storm-Gods. 

920 Janasfhan, where Rama lived as an ascetic. 

921 Maya, regarded as the paragon of female beauty, was the creation of Maya 
the chief artificer of the Daityas or Danavs. 



Canto XII. Ravan's Speech. 1533 

Faultless in form, how firmly tread 
Her feet whose soles are rosy red! 
Ah, as I gaze her beauty takes 
My spirit, and my passion wakes. 
Looking for Rama far away 
She sought with tears a year's delay 
Nor gazing on her love-lit eye 
Could I that earnest prayer deny. 
But baffled hopes and vain desire 
At length my patient spirit tire. 
How shall the sons of Raghu sweep 
To vengeance o'er the pathless deep? 
How shall they lead the Vanar train 
Across the monster-teeming main? 
One Vanar yet could find a way 
To Lanka's town, and burn and slay. 
Take counsel then, remembering still 
That we from men need fear no ill; 
And give your sentence in debate, 
For matchless is the power of fate. 
Assailed by you the Gods who dwell 
In heaven beneath our fury fell. 
And shall we fear these creatures bred 
In forests, by Sugriva led? 
E'en now on ocean's farther strand, 
The sons of Dasaratha stand, 
And follow, burning to attack 
Their giant foes, on Sita's track. 
Consult then, lords for ye are wise: 
A seasonable plan devise. 
The captive lady to retain, 
And triumph when the foes are slain. 
No power can bring across the foam 
Those Vanars to our island home; 



1534 The Ramayana 

Or if they madly will defy 

Our conquering might, they needs must die." 

Then Kumbhakarna's anger woke, 
And wroth at Ravan's words he spoke: 
"O Monarch, when thy ravished eyes 
First looked upon thy lovely prize, 
Then was the time to bid us scan 
Each peril and mature a plan. 
Blest is the king who acts with heed, 
And ne'er repents one hasty deed; 
And hapless he whose troubled soul 
[436] Mourns over days beyond control. 

Thou hast, in beauty's toils ensnared, 
A desperate deed of boldness dared; 
By fortune saved ere Rama's steel 
One wound, thy mortal bane, could deal. 
But, Ravan, as the deed is done, 
The toil of war I will not shun. 
This arm, O rover of the night, 
Thy foemen to the earth shall smite, 
Though Indra with the Lord of Flame, 
The Sun and Storms, against me came. 
E'en Indra, monarch of the skies, 
Would dread my club and mountain size, 
Shrink from these teeth and quake to hear 
The thunders of my voice of fear. 
No second dart shall Rama cast: 
The first he aims shall be the last. 
He falls, and these dry lips shall drain 
The blood of him my hand has slain; 
And Sita, when her champion dies, 
Shall be thine undisputed prize." 



Canto XIII. Ravan's Speech. 1535 

Canto XIII. Ravan's Speech. 



But Mahaparsva saw the sting 

Of keen reproach had galled the king; 

And humbly, eager to appease 

His anger, spoke in words like these: 

"And breathes there one so cold and weak 
The forest and the gloom to seek 
Where savage beasts abound, and spare 
To taste the luscious honey there? 
Art thou not lord? and who is he 
Shall venture to give laws to thee? 
Love thy Videhan still, and tread 
Upon thy prostrate foeman's head. 
O'er Sita's will let thine prevail, 
And strength achieve if flattery fail. 
What though the lady yet be coy 
And turn her from the proffered joy? 
Soon shall her conquered heart relent 
And yield to love and blandishment. 
With us let Kumbhakarna fight, 
And Indrajit of matchless might: 
We need not other champions, they 
Shall lead us forth to rout and slay. 
Not ours to bribe or soothe or part 
The foeman's force with gentle art, 
Doomed, conquered by our might, to feel 
The vengeance of the warrior's steel." 

The Rakshas monarch heard, and moved 
By flattering hopes the speech approved: 



1536 The Ramayana 

"Hear me," he cried, "great chieftain, tell 
What in the olden time befell, — 
A secret tale which, long suppressed, 
Lies prisoned only in my breast. 
One day — a day I never forget — 
Fair Punjikasthala 922 I met, 
When, radiant as a flame of fire, 
She sought the palace of the Sire. 
In passion's eager grasp I tore 
From her sweet limbs the robes she wore, 
And heedless of her prayers and cries 
Strained to my breast the vanquised prize. 
Like Nalini 923 with soil distained, 
The mansion of the Sire she gained, 
And weeping made the outrage known 
To Brahma on his heavenly throne. 
He in his wrath pronounced a curse, — 
That lord who made the universe: 
"If, Ravan, thou a second time 
Be guilty of so foul a crime, 
Thy head in shivers shall be rent: 
Be warned, and dread the punishment." 
Awed by the threat of vengeance still 
I force not Sita's stubborn will. 
Terrific as the sea in might: 
My steps are like the Storm-Gods' flight; 
But Rama knows not this, or he 
Had never sought to war with me. 
Where is the man would idly brave 
The lion in his mountain cave, 
And wake him when with slumbering eyes 
Grim, terrible as Death, he lies? 



922 One of the Nymphs of Indra's heaven. 

923 The Lotus River, a branch of the heavenly Ganga. 



Canto XIV. Vibhishan's Speech. 1537 

No, blinded Rama knows me not: 
Ne'er has he seen mine arrows shot; 
Ne'er marked them speeding to their aim 
Like snakes with cloven tongues of flame. 
On him those arrows will I turn, 
Whose fiery points shall rend and burn. 
Quenched by my power when I assail 
The glory of his might shall fail, 
As stars before the sun grow dim 
And yield their feeble light to him." 



Canto XIV. Vibhishan's Speech. 



He ceased: Vibhishan ill at ease 
Addressed the king in words like these: 

"O Ravan, O my lord, beware 
Of Sita dangerous as fair, 
Nor on thy heedless bosom hang 
This serpent with a deadly fang. 
O King, the Maithil dame restore 
To Raghu's matchless son before 
Those warriors of the woodlands, vast 
As mountain peaks, approaching fast, 
Armed with fierce teeth and claws, enclose 
Thy city with unsparing foes. 
O, be the Maithil dame restored 
Ere loosened from the clanging cord [437] 



1538 The Ramayana 

The vengeful shafts of Rama fly, 
And low in death thy princes lie. 
In all thy legions hast thou one 
A match in war for Raghu's son? 
Can Kumbhakarna's self withstand, 
Or Indrajit, that mighty hand? 
In vain with Rama wilt thou strive: 
Thou wilt not save thy soul alive 
Though guarded by the Lord of Day 
And Storm-Gods' terrible array, 
In vain to Indra wilt thou fly, 
Or seek protection in the sky, 
In Yama's gloomy mansion dwell, 
Or hide thee in the depths of hell." 



He ceased; and when his lips were closed 
Prahasta thus his rede opposed: 



"O timid heart, to counsel thus ! 
What terrors have the Gods for us? 
Can snake, Gandharva, fiend appal 
The giants' sons who scorn them all? 
And shall we now our birth disgrace, 
And dread a king of human race?" 
Thus fierce Prahasta counselled ill: 
But sage Vibhishan's constant will 
The safety of the realm ensued; 
Who thus in turn his speech renewed: 



Canto XV. Indrajit's Speech. 1539 

"Yes, when a soul defiled with sin 
Shall mount to heaven and enter in, 
Then, chieftain, will experience teach 
The truth of thy disdainful speech. 
Can I, or thou, or these or all 
Our bravest compass Rama's fall, 
The chief in whom all virtues shine, 
The pride of old Ikshvaku'a line, 
With whom the Gods may scarce compare 
In skill to act, in heart to dare? 
Yea, idly mayst thou vaunt thee, till 
Sharp arrows winged with matchless skill 
From Rama's bowstring, fleet and fierce 
As lightning's flame, thy body pierce. 
Nikumbha shall not save thee then, 
Nor Ravan, from the lord of men. 
O Monarch, hear my last appeal, 
My counsel for thy kingdom's weal. 
This sentence I again declare: 
O giant King, beware, beware! 
Save from the ruin that impends 
Thy town, thy people, and thy friends; 
O hear the warning urged once more: 
To Raghu's son the dame restore." 



Canto XV. Indrajit's Speech. 



He ceased: and Indrajit the pride 
Of Rakshas warriors thus replied: 



1540 The Ramayana 

"Is this a speech our king should hear, 
This counsel of ignoble fear? 
A scion of our glorious race 
Should ne'er conceive a thought so base, 
But one mid all our kin we find, 
Vibhishan, whose degenerate mind 
No spark of gallant pride retains, 
Whose coward soul his lineage stains. 
Against one giant what can two 
Unhappy sons of Raghu do? 
Away with idle fears, away ! 
Matched with our meanest, what are they? 
Beneath my conquering prowess fell 
The Lord of earth and heaven and hell. 924 
Through every startled region dread 
Of my resistless fury spread; 
And Gods in each remotest sphere 
Confessed the universal fear. 
Rending the air with roar and groan, 
Airavat 925 to the earth was thrown. 
From his huge head the tusks I drew, 
And smote the Gods with fear anew. 
Shall I who tame celestials' pride, 
By whom the fiends are terrified, 
Now prove a weakling little worth, 
And fail to slay those sons of earth?" 



He ceased: Vibhishan trained and tried 
In war and counsel thus replied 



924 Trilokandtha, Lord of the Three Worlds, is a title of Indra. 

925 The celestial elephant that carries Indra. 



Canto XVI. Ravan's Speech. 1541 

"Thy speech is marked with scorn of truth, 
With rashness and the pride of youth. 
Yea, to thy ruin like a child 
Thou pratest, and thy words are wild. 
Most dear, O Indrajit, to thee 
Should Ravan's weal and safety be, 
For thou art called his son, but thou 
Art proved his direst foeman now, 
When warned by me thou hast not tried 
To turn the coming woe aside. 
Both thee and him 'twere meet to slay, 
Who brought thee to this hall to-day, 
And dared so rash a youth admit 
To council where the wisest sit. 
Presumptuous, wild, devoid of sense, 
Filled full of pride and insolence, 
Thy reckless tongue thou wilt not rule 
That speaks the counsel of a fool. 
Who in the fight may brook or shun 
The arrows shot by Raghu's son 
With flame and fiery vengeance sped, 
Dire as his staff who rules the dead? 
O Ravan, let thy people live, 
And to the son of Raghu give 
Fair robes and gems and precious ore, 
And Sita to his arms restore." 



[438] 



Canto XVI. Ravan's Speech. 



1542 The Ramayana 

Then, while his breast with fury swelled, 
Thus Ravan spoke, as fate impelled: 

"Better with foes thy dwelling make, 
Or house thee with the venomed snake, 
Than live with false familiar friends 
Who further still thy foeman's ends. 
I know their treacherous mood, I know 
Their secret triumph at thy woe. 
They in their inward hearts despise 
The brave, the noble, and the wise, 
Grieve at their bliss with rancorous hate, 
And for their sorrows watch and wait: 
Scan every fault with curious eye, 
And each slight error magnify. 
Ask elephants who roam the wild 
How were their captive friends beguiled. 
"For fire," they cry, "we little care, 
For javelin and shaft and snare: 
Our foes are traitors, taught to bind 
The trusting creatures of their kind." 
Still, still, shall blessings flow from cows, 926 
And Brahmans love their rigorous vows; 
Still woman change her restless will, 
And friends perfidious work us ill. 
What though with conquering feet I tread 
On every prostrate foeman's head; 
What though the worlds in abject fear 
Their mighty lord in me revere? 
This thought my peace of mind destroys 
And robs me of expected joys. 
The lotus of the lake receives 



As producers of the ghi, clarified butter or sacrificial oil, used in fire-offer- 
ings. 



Canto XVI. Ravan's Speech. 1543 

The glittering rain that gems its leaves, 

But each bright drop remains apart: 

So is it still with heart and heart. 

Deceitful as an autumn cloud 

Which, though its thunderous voice be loud, 

On the dry earth no torrent sends, 

Such is the race of faithless friends. 

No riches of the bloomy spray 

Will tempt the wandering bee to stay 

That loves from flower to flower to range; 

And friends like thee are swift to change. 

Thou blot upon thy glorious line, 

If any giant's tongue but thine 

Had dared to give this base advice, 

He should not live to shame me twice." 

Then just Vibhishan in the heat 
Of anger started from his seat, 
And with four captains of the band 
Sprang forward with his mace in hand; 
Then, fury flashing from his eye, 
Looked on the king and made reply: 

"Thy rights, O Ravan, I allow: 
My brother and mine elder thou. 
Such, though from duty's path they stray, 
We love like fathers and obey, 
But still too bitter to be borne 
Is thy harsh speech of cruel scorn. 
The rash like thee, who spurn control, 
Nor check one longing of the soul, 
Urged by malignant fate repel 
The faithful friend who counsels well. 
A thousand courtiers wilt thou meet, 



1544 The Ramayana 

With flattering lips of smooth deceit: 
But rare are they whose tongue or ear 
Will speak the bitter truth, or hear. 
Unclose thy blinded eyes and see 
That snares of death encompass thee. 
I dread, my brother, to behold 
The shafts of Rama, bright with gold, 
Flash fury through the air, and red 
With fires of vengeance strike thee dead. 
Lord, brother, King, again reflect, 
Nor this mine earnest prayer reject, 
O, save thyself, thy royal town, 
Thy people and thine old renown." 



Canto XVII. Vibhishan's Flight. 



Soon as his bitter words were said, 
To Raghu's sons Vibhishan fled. 927 
Their eyes the Vanar leaders raised 
And on the air-borne Rakhshas gazed, 
Bright as a thunderbolt, in size 
Like Meru's peak that cleaves the skies. 
In gorgeous panoply arrayed 
Like Indra's self he stood displayed, 
And four attendants brave and bold 



927 This desertion to the enemy is somewhat abrupt, and is narrated with 
brevity not usual with Valrmki. In the Bengal recension the preceding speakers 
and speeches differ considerably from those given in the text which I follow. 
Vibhishan is kicked from his seat by Ravan, and then, after telling his mother 
what has happened, he flies to Mount Kailasa where he has an interview with 
Siva, and by his advice seeks Rama and the Vanar army. 



Canto XVII. Vibhishan's Flight. 1545 

Shone by their chief in mail and gold. 

Sugriva then with dark surmise 

Bent on their forms his wondering eyes, 

And thus in hasty words confessed 

The anxious doubt that moved his breast: 

"Look, look ye Vanars, and beware: 
That giant chief sublime in air 
With other four in bright array 

Comes armed to conquer and to slay." [439] 

Soon as his warning speech they heard, 
The Vanar chieftains undeterred 
Seized fragments of the rock and trees, 
And made reply in words like these: 
"We wait thy word: the order give, 
And these thy foes shall cease to live. 
Command us, mighty King, and all 
Lifeless upon the earth shall fall." 

Meanwhile Vibhishan with the four 
Stood high above the ocean shore. 
Sugriva and the chiefs he spied, 
And raised his mighty voice and cried: 
"From Ravan, lord of giants, I 
His brother, named Vibhishan, fly. 
From Janasthan he stole the child 
Of Janak by his art beguiled, 
And in his palace locked and barred 
Surrounds her with a Rakshas guard. 
I bade him, plied with varied lore, 
His hapless prisoner restore. 
But he, by Fate to ruin sent, 
No credence to my counsel lent, 
Mad as the fevered wretch who sees 



1546 The Ramayana 

And scorns the balm to bring him ease. 
He scorned the sage advice I gave, 
He spurned me like a base-born slave. 
I left my children and my wife, 
And fly to Raghu's son for life. 
I pray thee, Vanar chieftain, speed 
To him who saves in hour of need, 
And tell him famed in distant lands 
That suppliant here Vibhishan stands." 



The Rakshas ceased: Sugriva hied 
To Raghu's noble son and cried: 



"A stranger from the giant host, 
Borne o'er the sea, has reached the coast; 
A secret foe, he comes to slay, 
As owls attack their heedless prey. 
'Tis thine, O King, in time of need 
To watch, to counsel, and to lead, 
Our Vanar legions to dispose, 
And guard us from our crafty foes. 
Vibhishan from the giants' isle, 
King Ravan's brother, comes with guile 
And, feigning from his king to flee, 
Seeks refuge, Raghu's son, with thee. 
Arise, O Rama, and prevent 
By bold attack his dark intent. 
Who comes in friendly guise prepared 
To slay thee by his arts ensnared." 



Canto XVII. Vibhishan's Flight. 1547 

Thus urged Sugriva famed for lore 
Of moving words, and spoke no more. 
Then Rama thus in turn addressed 
The bold Hanuman and the rest: 
"Chiefs of the Vanar legions each 
Of you heard Sugriva's speech. 
What think ye now in time of fear, 
When peril and distress are near, 
In every doubt the wise depend 
For counsel on a faithful friend." 

They heard his gracious words, and then 
Spake reverent to the lord of men: 
"O Raghu's son, thou knowest well 
All things of heaven and earth and hell. 
'Tis but thy friendship bids us speak 
The counsel Rama need not seek. 
So duteous, brave, and true art thou, 
Heroic, faithful to thy vow. 
Deep in the scriptures, trained and tried, 
Still in thy friends wilt thou confide. 
Let each of us in turn impart 
The secret counsel of his heart, 
And strive to win his chiefs assent, 
By force of wisest argument." 

They ceased and Angad thus began: 
"With jealous eye the stranger scan: 
Not yet with trusting heart receive 
Vibhishan, nor his tale believe. 
These giants wandering far and wide 
Their evil nature falsely hide, 
And watching with malignant skill 
Assail us when we fear no ill. 



1548 The Ramayana 

Well ponder every hope and fear 
Until thy doubtful course be clear; 
Then own his merit or detect 
His guile, and welcome or reject." 



Then Sarabha the bold and brave 
In turn his prudent sentence gave: 
"Yea, Rama, send a skilful spy 
With keenest tact to test and try. 
Then let the stranger, as is just, 
Obtain or be refused thy trust." 



Then he whose heart was rich in store 
Of scripture's life-directing lore, 
King Jambavan, stood forth and cried: 
"Suspect, suspect a foe allied 
With Ravan lord of Lanka's isle, 
And Rakshas sin and Rakshas guile." 



Then Mainda, wisest chief, who knew 
The wrong, the right, the false, the true, 
Pondered a while, then silence broke, 
And thus his sober counsel spoke: 



"Let one with gracious speech draw near 
And gently charm Vibhishan's ear, 
Till he the soothing witchery feel 
And all his secret heart reveal. 
So thou his aims and hopes shalt know, 
And hail the friend or shun the foe." 



Canto XVII. Vibhishan's Flight. 1549 

"Not he," Hanuman cried, "not he 
Who taught the Gods 928 may rival thee, 
Supreme in power of quickest sense, 
First in the art of eloquence. 
But hear me soothly speak, O King, 
And learn the hope to which I cling. 
Vibhishan comes no crafty spy: 
Urged by his brother's fault to fly. 
With righteous soul that loathes the sin, 

He fled from Lanka and his kin. [440] 

If strangers question, doubt will rise 
And chill the heart of one so wise. 
Marred by distrust the parle will end, 
And thou wilt lose a faithful friend. 
Nor let it seem so light a thing 
To sound a stranger's heart, O King. 
And he, I ween, whate'er he say, 
Will ne'er an evil thought betray. 
He comes a friend in happy time, 
Loathing his brother for his crime. 
His ear has heard thine old renown, 
The might that struck King Bali down, 
And set Sugriva on the throne. 
And looking now to thee alone 
He comes thy matchless aid to win 
And punish Ravan for his sin. 
Thus have I tried thy heart to move, 
And thus Vibhishan's truth to prove. 
Still in his friendship I confide; 
But ponder, wisest, and decide." 



928 Vrihaspati the preceptor of the Gods. 



1550 The Ramayana 

Canto XVIII. Rama's Speech. 



Then Rama's rising doubt was stilled, 
And friendly thoughts his bosom filled. 
Thus, deep in Scripture's lore, he spake: 
"The suppliant will I ne'er forsake, 
Nor my protecting aid refuse 
When one in name of friendship sues. 
Though faults and folly blot his fame, 
Pity and help he still may claim." 



He ceased: Sugriva bowed his head 
And pondered for a while, and said: 



"Past number be his faults or few, 
What think ye of the Rakshas who, 
When threatening clouds of danger rise, 
Deserts his brother's side and flies? 
Say, Vanars, who may hope to find 
True friendship in his faithless kind?" 



Canto XVIII. Rama's Speech. 155 1 

The son of Raghu heard his speech: 
He cast a hasty look on each 
Of those brave Vanar chiefs, and while 
Upon his lips there played a smile, 
To Lakshman turned and thus expressed 
The thoughts that moved his gallant breast: 
"Well versed in Scripture's lore, and sage 
And duly reverent to age, 
Is he, with long experience stored, 
Who counsels like this Vanar lord. 
Yet here, methinks, for searching eyes 
Some deeper, subtler matter lies. 
To you and all the world are known 
The perils of a monarch's throne, 
While foe and stranger, kith and kin 
By his misfortune trust to win. 
By hope of such advantage led, 
Vibhishan o'er the sea has fled. 
He in his brother's stead would reign, 
And our alliance seeks to gain; 
And we his offer may embrace, 
A stranger and of alien race. 
But if he comes a spy and foe, 
What power has he to strike a blow 
In furtherance of his close design? 
What is his strength compared with mine? 
And can I, Vanar King, forget 
The great, the universal debt, 
Ever to aid and welcome those 
Who pray for shelter, friends or foes? 
Hast thou not heard the deathless praise 
Won by the dove in olden days, 
Who conquering his fear and hate 
Welcomed the slayer of his mate, 



1552 The Ramayana 

And gave a banquet, to refresh 
The weary fowler, of his flesh? 
Now hear me, Vanar King, rehearse 
What Kandu 929 spoke in ancient verse, 
Saint Kanva's son who loved the truth 
And clave to virtue from his youth: 
"Strike not the suppliant when he stands 
And asks thee with beseeching hands 
For shelter: strike him not although 
He were thy father's mortal foe. 
No, yield him, be he proud or meek, 
The shelter which he comes to seek, 
And save thy foeman, if the deed 
Should cost thy life, in desperate need." 
And shall I hear the wretched cry, 
And my protecting aid deny? 
Shall I a suppliant's prayer refuse, 
And heaven and glory basely lose? 
No, I will do for honour sake 
E'en as the holy Kandu spake, 
Preserve a hero's name from stain, 
And bliss in heaven and glory gain. 
Bound by a solemn vow I sware 
That all my saving help should share 
Who sought me in distress and cried, 
"Thou art my hope, and none beside." 
Then go, I pray thee, Vanar King, 
Vibhishan to my presence bring, 
Yea, were he Ravan's self, my vow 
Forbids me to reject him now." 



In Book II, Canto XXI, Kandu is mentioned by Rama as an example of 
filial obedience. At the command of his father he is said to have killed a cow. 



Canto XIX. Vibhishan's Counsel. 1553 

He ceased: the Vanar king approved; 
And Rama toward Vibhishan moved. 
So moves, a brother God to greet, 
Lord Indra from his heavenly seat. 



[441] 



Canto XIX. Vibhishan's Counsel. 



When Raghu's son had owned his claim 
Down from the air Vibhishan came, 
And with his four attendants bent 
At Rama's feet most reverent. 

"O Rama," thus he cried, "in me 
Vibhishan, Ravan's brother see. 
By him disgraced thine aid I seek, 
Sure refuge of the poor and weak. 
From Lanka, friends, and wealth I fly, 
And reft of all on thee rely. 
On thee, the wretch's firmest friend, 
My kingdom, joys, and life depend." 

With glance of favour Rama eyed 
The Rakshas chief and thus replied: 

"First from thy lips I fain would hear 
Each brighter hope, each darker fear. 
Speak, stranger, that I well may know 
The strength and weakness of the foe." 



1554 The Ramayana 

He ceased: the Rakshas chief obeyed, 
And thus in turn his answer made: 

"O Prince, the Self-existent gave 
This boon to Ravan; he may brave 
All foes in fight; no fiend or snake, 
Gandharva, God, his life may take. 
His brother Kumbhakarna vies 
In might with him who rules the skies. 
The captain of his armies — fame 
Perhaps has taught the warrior's name — 
Is terrible Prahasta, who 
King Manibhadra's 930 self o'erthrew. 
Where is the warrior found to face 
Young Indrajit, when armed with brace 
And guard 931 and bow he stands in mail 
And laughs at spear and arrowy hail? 
Within his city Lanka dwell 
Ten million giants fierce and fell, 
Who wear each varied shape at will 
And eat the flesh of those they kill. 
These hosts against the Gods he led, 
And heavenly might discomfited." 

Then Rama cried: "I little heed 
Gigantic strength or doughty deed. 
In spite of all their might has done 
The king, the captain, and the son 
Shall fall beneath my fury dead, 
And thou shalt reign in Ravan's stead. 
He, though in depths of earth he dwell, 



930 A King of the Yakshas, or Kuvera himself, the God of Gold. 

931 The brace protects the left arm from injury from the bow-string, and the 
guard protects the fingers of the right hand. 



Canto XIX. Vibhishan's Counsel. 1555 

Or seek protection down in hell, 
Or kneel before the Sire supreme, 
His forfeit life shall ne'er redeem. 
Yea, by my brothers' lives I swear, 
I will not to my home repair 
Till Ravan and his kith and kin 
Have paid in death the price of sin." 

Vibhishan bowed his head and cried: 
"Thy conquering army will I guide 
To storm the city of the foe, 
And aid the tyrant's overthrow." 
Thus spake Vibhishan: Rama pressed 
The Rakshas chieftain to his breast, 
And cried to Lakshman: "Haste and bring 
Sea-water for the new-made king." 
He spoke, and o'er Vibhishan's head 
The consecrating drops were shed 
Mid shouts that hailed with one accord 
The giants' king and Lanka's lord. 

"Is there no way," Hanuman cried, 
"No passage o'er the boisterous tide? 
How may we lead the Vanar host 
In triumph to the farther coast?" 
"Thus," said Vibhishan, "I advise: 
Let Raghu's son in suppliant guise 
Entreat the mighty Sea to lend 
His succour and this cause befriend. 
His channels, as the wise have told, 
By Sagar's sons were dug of old, 932 
Nor will high-thoughted Ocean scorn 
A prince of Sagar's lineage born." 



932 The story is told in Book I, Cantos XL, XLI, XLII. 



1556 The Ramayana 

He ceased; the prudent counsel won 
The glad assent of Raghu's son. 
Then on the ocean shore a bed 
Of tender sacred grass was spread, 
Where Rama at the close of day 
Like fire upon an altar lay. 



Canto XX. The Spies. 



Sardula, Ravan's spy, surveyed 
The legions on the strand arrayed. 
And bore, his bosom racked with fear, 
These tidings to the monarch's ear: 



"They come, they come. A rushing tide, 
Ten leagues they spread from side to side, 
And on to storm thy city press, 
Fierce rovers of the wilderness. 
Rich in each princely power and grace, 
The pride of Dasaratha's race, 
Rama and Lakshman lead their bands, 
And halt them on the ocean sands. 
O Monarch, rise, this peril meet; 
[442] Risk not the danger of defeat. 



Canto XX. The Spies. 1557 

First let each wiser art be tried; 

Bribe them, or win them, or divide." 

Such was the counsel of the spy: 

And Ravan called to Suka: "Fly, 

Sugriva lord of Vanars seek, 

And thus my kingly message speak: 

"Great power and might and fame are thine, 

Brave scion of a royal line, 

King Riksharajas' son, in thee 

A brother and a friend I see. 

How wronged by me canst thou complain? 

What profit here pretend to gain? 

If from the wood the wife I stole 

Of Rama of the prudent soul, 

What cause hast thou to mourn the theft? 

Thou art not injured or bereft. 

Return, O King, thy steps retrace 

And seek thy mountain dwelling-place. 

No, never may thy hosts within 

My Lanka's walls a footing win. 

A mighty town whose strength defies 

The gathered armies of the skies." 

He ceased: obedient Suka heard; 
With wings and plumage of a bird 
He rose in eager speed and through 
The air upon his errand flew. 
Borne o'er the sea with rapid wing 
He stood above the Vanar king, 
And spoke aloud, sublime in air, 
The message he was charged to bear. 
The Vanar heard the words he spoke, 
And quick redoubling stroke on stroke 
On head and pinions hemmed him round 



1558 The Ramayana 

And bore him struggling to the ground. 
The Rakshas wounded and distressed 
These words to Raghu's son addressed: 

"Quick, quick! This Vanar host restrain, 
For heralds never must be slain. 
To him alone, a wretch untrue, 
The punishment of death is due 
Who leaves his master's speech unsaid 
And speaks another in its stead." 
Moved by the suppliant speech and prayer 
Up sprang the prince and cried, forbear. 
Saved from his wild assailant's blows 
Again the Rakshas herald rose 
And borne on light wings to the sky 
Addressed Sugriva from on high: 
"O Vanar Monarch, chief endued 
With power and wonderous fortitude, 
What answer is my king, the fear 
And scourge of weeping worlds, to hear?" 
"Go tell thy lord," Sugriva cried, 
"Thou, Rama's foe, art thus defied. 
His arm the guilty Bali slew; 
Thus, tyrant, shalt thou perish too. 
Thy sons, thy friends, proud King, and all 
Thy kith and kin with thee shall fall; 
And, emptied of the giant's brood, 
Burnt Lanka be a solitude. 
Fly to the Sun-God's pathway, go 
And hide thee deep in hell below: 
In vain from Rama shalt thou flee 
Though heavenly warriors fight for thee. 
Thine arm subdued, securely bold, 
The Vulture-king infirm and old: 



Canto XX. The Spies. 1559 

But will thy puny strength avail 

When Raghu's wrathful sons assail? 

A captive in thy palace lies 

The lady of the lotus eyes: 

Thou knowest not how fierce and strong 

Is he whom thou hast dared to wrong. 

The best of Raghu's lineage, he 

Whose conquering hand shall punish thee." 



He ceased: and Angad raised a cry; 
"This is no herald but a spy. 
Above thee from his airy post 
His rapid eye surveyed our host, 
Where with advantage he might scan 
Our gathered strength from rear to van. 
Bind him, Vanars, bind the spy, 
Nor let him back to Lanka fly." 



They hurled the Rakshas to the ground, 
They grasped his neck, his pinions bound, 
And firmly held him while in vain 
His voice was lifted to complain. 
But Rama's heart inclined to spare, 
He listened to his plaint and prayer, 
And cried aloud: "O Vanars, cease; 
The captive from his bonds release." 



1560 The Ramayana 

Canto XXI. Ocean Threatened. 



His hands in reverence Rama raised 

And southward o'er the ocean gazed; 

Then on the sacred grass that made 

His lowly couch his limbs he laid. 

His head on that strong arm reclined 

Which SM, best of womankind, 

Had loved in happier days to hold 

With soft arms decked with pearls and gold. 

Then rising from his bed of grass, 

"This day," he cried, "the host shall pass 

Triumphant to the southern shore, 

Or Ocean's self shall be no more." 

Thus vowing in his constant breast 

Again he turned him to his rest, 

And there, his eyes in slumber closed, 

Silent beside the sea reposed. 

Thrice rose the Day-God thrice he set, 

The lord of Ocean came not yet, 

Thrice came the night, but Raghu's son 

No answer by his service won. 

To Lakshman thus the hero cried, 

His eyes aflame with wrath and pride: 



"In vain the softer gifts that grace 
The good are offered to the base. 
[443] Long-suffering, patience, gentle speech 



Canto XXI. Ocean Threatened. 1561 

Their thankless hearts can never reach. 
The world to him its honour pays 
Whose ready tongue himself can praise, 
Who scorns the true, and hates the right, 
Whose hand is ever raised to smite. 
Each milder art is tried in vain: 
It wins no glory, but disdain. 
And victory owns no softer charm 
Than might which nerves a warrior's arm. 
My humble suit is still denied 
By Ocean's overweening pride. 
This day the monsters of the deep 
In throes of death shall wildly leap. 
My shafts shall rend the serpents curled 
In caverns of the watery world, 
Disclose each sunless depth and bare 
The tangled pearl and coral there. 
Away with mercy ! at a time 
Like this compassion is a crime. 
Welcome, the battle and the foe! 
My bow ! my arrows and my bow ! 
This day the Vanars' feet shall tread 
The conquered Sea's exhausted bed, 
And he who never feared before 
Shall tremble to his farthest shore." 

Red flashed his eyes with angry glow: 
He stood and grasped his mighty bow, 
Terrific as the fire of doom 
Whose quenchless flames the world consume. 
His clanging cord the archer drew, 
And swift the fiery arrows flew 
Fierce as the flashing levin sent 
By him who rules the firmament. 



1562 The Ramayana 

Down through the startled waters sped 

Each missile with its flaming head. 

The foamy billows rose and sank, 

And dashed upon the trembling bank. 

Sea monsters of tremendous form 

With crash and roar of thunder storm. 

Still the wild waters rose and fell 

Crowned with white foam and pearl and shell. 

Each serpent, startled from his rest, 

Raised his fierce eyes and glowing crest. 

And prisoned Danavs 933 where they dwelt 

In depths below the terror felt. 

Again upon his string he laid 

A flaming shaft, but Lakshman stayed 

His arm, with gentle reasoning tried 

To soothe his angry mood, and cried: 

"Brother, reflect: the wise control 

The rising passions of the soul. 

Let Ocean grant, without thy threat, 

The boon on which thy heart is set. 

That gracious lord will ne'er refuse 

When Rama son of Raghu sues." 

He ceased: and voices from the air 

Fell clear and loud, Spare, Rama, spare. 



Canto XXII. Ocean Threatened. 



Canto XXII. Ocean Threatened. 1563 

With angry menace Rama, best 
Of Raghu's sons, the Sea addressed: 
"With fiery flood of arrowy rain 
Thy channels will I dry and drain. 
And I and all the Vanar host 
Will reach on foot the farther coast. 
Thou shalt not from destruction save 
The creatures of the teeming wave, 
And lapse of time shall ne'er efface 
The memory of the dire disgrace." 

Thus spoke the warrior, and prepared 
The mortal shaft which never spared, 
Known mystic weapon, by the name 
Of Brahma, red with quenchless flame. 
Great terror, as he strained the bow, 
Struck heaven above and earth below. 
Through echoing skies the thunder pealed, 
And startled mountains rocked and reeled, 
The earth was black with sudden night 
And heaven was blotted from the sight. 
Then ever and anon the glare 
Of meteors shot through murky air, 
And with a wild terrific sound 
Red lightnings struck the trembling ground. 
In furious gusts the fierce wind blew: 
Tall trees it shattered and o'erthrew, 
And, smiting with a giant's stroke, 
Huge masses from the mountain broke. 
A cry of terror long and shrill 
Came from each valley, plain, and hill. 
Each ruined dale, each riven peak 
Re-echoed with a wail or shriek. 



1564 The Ramayana 

While Raghu's son undaunted gazed, 
The waters of the deep were raised, 
And, still uplifted more and more, 
Leapt in wild flood upon the shore. 
Still Rama looked upon the tide 
And kept his post unterrified. 
Then from the seething flood upreared 
Majestic Ocean's form appeared, 
As rising from his eastern height 
Springs through the sky the Lord of Light. 
Attendant on their monarch came 
Sea serpents with their eyes aflame. 
Like lazulite mid burning gold 
His form was wondrous to behold. 
Bright with each fairest precious stone 
A chain about his neck was thrown. 
Calm shone his lotus eyes beneath 
The blossoms of his heavenly wreath, 
And many a pearl and sea-born gem 
Flashed in the monarch's diadem. 
There Ganga, tributary queen, 
[444] And Sindhu 934 by his lord, were seen, 

And every stream and brook renowned 
In ancient story girt him round. 
Then, as the waters rose and swelled, 
The king with suppliant hands upheld, 
His glorious head to Rama bent 
And thus addressed him reverent: 
"Air, ether, fire, earth, water, true 
To nature's will, their course pursue; 
And I, as ancient laws ordain, 
Unfordable must still remain. 



The Indus. 



Canto XXII. Ocean Threatened. 1565 

Yet, Raghu's son, my counsel hear: 

I ne'er for love or hope or fear 

Will pile my waters in a heap 

And leave a pathway through the deep. 

Still shall my care for thee provide 

An easy passage o'er the tide, 

And like a city's paven street 

Shall be the road beneath thy feet." 

He ceased: and Rama spoke again: 

"This spell is ne'er invoked in vain. 

Where shall the magic shaft, to spend 

The fury of its might, descend?" 

"Shoot," Ocean cried, "thine arrow forth 

With all its fury to the north, 

Where sacred Drumakulya lies, 

Whose glory with thy glory vies. 

There dwells a wild Abhfra 935 race, 

As vile in act as foul of face, 

Fierce Dasyus 936 who delight in ill, 

And drink my tributary rill. 

My soul no longer may endure 

Their neighbourhood and touch impure. 

At these, O son of Raghu, aim 

Thine arrow with the quenchless flame." 

Swift from the bow, as Rama drew 
His cord, the fiery arrow flew. 
Earth groaned to feel the wound, and sent 
A rush of water through the rent; 
And famed for ever is the well 
Of Vrana 937 where the arrow fell. 



935 Cowherds, sprung from a Brahman and a woman of the medical tribe, the 
modern Ahirs. 



1566 The Ramayana 

Then every brook and lake beside 

Throughout the region Rama dried. 

But yet he gave a boon to bless 

And fertilize the wilderness: 

No fell disease should taint the air, 

And sheep and kine should prosper there: 

Earth should produce each pleasant root, 

The stately trees should bend with fruit; 

Oil, milk, and honey should abound, 

And fragrant herbs should clothe the ground. 

Then spake the king of brooks and seas 

To Raghu's son in words like these: 

"Now let a wondrous task be done 

By Nala, Visvakarma's son, 

Who, born of one of Vanar race, 

Inherits by his father's grace 

A share of his celestial art. 

Call Nala to perform his part, 

And he, divinely taught and skilled, 

A bridge athwart the sea shall build." 

He spoke and vanished. Nala, best 
Of Vanar chiefs, the king addressed: 
"O'er the deep sea where monsters play 
A bridge, O Rama, will I lay; 
For, sharer of my father's skill, 
Mine is the power and mine the will. 
Tis vain to try each gentler art 
To bribe and soothe the thankless heart; 
In vain on such is mercy spent; 
It yields to naught but punishment. 
Through fear alone will Ocean now 
A passage o'er his waves allow. 
My mother, ere she bore her son, 



Canto XXII. Ocean Threatened. 1567 

This boon from Visvakarma won: 
"O Mandari, thy child shall be 
In skill and glory next to me." 
But why unbidden should I fill 
Thine ear with praises of my skill? 
Command the Vanar hosts to lay 
Foundations for the bridge to-day." 

He spoke: and swift at Rama's hest 
Up sprang the Vanars from their rest, 
The mandate of the king obeyed 
And sought the forest's mighty shade. 
Unrooted trees to earth they threw, 
And to the sea the timber drew. 
The stately palm was bowed and bent, 
Asokas from the ground were rent, 
And towering Sals and light bamboos, 
And trees with flowers of varied hues, 
With loveliest creepers wreathed and crowned, 
Shook, reeled, and fell upon the ground. 
With mighty engines piles of stone 
And seated hills were overthrown: 
Unprisoned waters sprang on high, 
In rain descending from the sky: 
And ocean with a roar and swell 
Heaved wildly when the mountains fell. 
Then the great bridge of wondrous strength 
Was built, a hundred leagues in length. 
Rocks huge as autumn clouds bound fast 
With cordage from the shore were cast, 
And fragments of each riven hill, 
And trees whose flowers adorned them still. 
Wild was the tumult, loud the din 
As ponderous rocks went thundering in. 



1568 The Ramayana 

Ere set of sun, so toiled each crew, 
Ten leagues and four the structure grew; 
The labours of the second day 
Gave twenty more of ready way, 
And on the fifth, when sank the sun, 
The whole stupendous work was done. 
O'er the broad way the Vanars sped, 
[445] Nor swayed it with their countless tread. 

Exultant on the ocean strand 
Vibhishan stood, and, mace in hand, 
Longed eager for the onward way, 
And chafed impatient at delay. 
Then thus to Rama trained and tried 
In battle King Sugriva cried: 
"Come, Hanuman's broad back ascend; 
Let Angad help to Lakshman lend. 
These high above the sea shall bear 
Their burthen through the ways of air." 



So, with Sugriva, borne o'erhead 
Ikshvaku's sons the legions led. 
Behind, the Vanar hosts pursued 
Their march in endless multitude. 
Some skimmed the surface of the wave, 
To some the air a passage gave. 
Amid their ceaseless roar the sound 
Of Ocean's fearful voice was drowned, 
As o'er the bridge by Nala planned 
They hastened on to Lanka's strand, 
Where, by the pleasant brooks, mid trees 
Loaded with fruit, they took their ease. 



Canto XXIII. The Omens. 1569 

Canto XXIII. The Omens. 

Then Rama, peerless in the skill 
That marks each sign of good and ill, 
Strained his dear brother to his breast, 
And thus with prudent words addressed: 
"Now, Lakshman, by the water's side 
In fruitful groves the host divide, 
That warriors of each woodland race 
May keep their own appointed place. 
Dire is the danger: loss of friends, 
Of Vanars and of bears, impends. 
Distained with dust the breezes blow, 
And earth is shaken from below. 
The tall hills rock from foot to crown, 
And stately trees come toppling down. 
In threatening shape, with voice of fear, 
The clouds like cannibals appear, 
And rain in fitful torrents, red 
With sanguinary drops, is shed. 
Long streaks of lurid light invest 
The evening skies from east to west. 
And from the sun at times a ball 
Of angry fire is seen to fall. 
From every glen and brake is heard 
The boding voice of beast and bird: 
From den and lair night-prowlers run 
And shriek against the falling sun. 
Up springs the moon, but hot and red 
Kills the sad night with woe and dread; 
No gentle lustre, but the gloom 
That heralds universal doom. 
A cloud of dust and vapour mars 
The beauty of the evening stars, 



1570 The Ramayana 

And wild and fearful is the sky 
As though the wreck of worlds were nigh. 
Around our heads in boding flight 
Wheel hawk and vulture, crow and kite; 
And every bird of happy note 
Shrieks terror from his altered throat. 
Sword, spear and shaft shall strew the plain 
Dyed red with torrents of the slain. 
To-day the Vanar troops shall close 
Around the city of our foes." 



Canto XXIV. The Spy's Return. 

As shine the heavens with autumn's moon 
Refulgent in the height of noon, 
So shone with light which Rama gave 
That army of the bold and brave, 
As from the sea it marched away 
In war's magnificent array, 
And earth was shaken by the beat 
And trampling of unnumbered feet. 
Then to the giants' ears were borne, 
The mingled notes of drum and horn, 
And clash of tambours smote the sky, 
And shouting and the battle cry. 
The sound of martial strains inspired 
Each chieftain, and his bosom fired: 
While giants from their walls replied, 
And answering shouts the foe defied, 
Then Rama looked on Lanka where 
Bright banners floated in the air, 



Canto XXIV. The Spy's Return. 157 1 

And, pierced with anguish at the view, 

His loving thoughts to Sita flew. 

"There, prisoned by the giant, lies 

My lady of the tender eyes, 

Like Rohini the queen of stars 

O'erpowered by the fiery Mars." 

Then turned he to his brother chief 

And cried in agony of grief: 

"See on the hill, divinely planned 

And built by Visvakarma's hand, 

The towers and domes of Lanka rise 

In peerless beauty to the skies. 

Bright from afar the city shines 

With gleam of palaces and shrines, 

Like pale clouds through the region spread 

By Vishnu's self inhabited. 

Fair gardens grow, and woods between 

The stately domes are fresh and green, 

Where trees their bloom and fruit display, 

And sweet birds sing on every spray. 

Each bird is mad with joy, and bees 

Sing labouring in the bloomy trees 

On branches by the breezes bowed, 

Where the gay Koil's voice is loud." 

This said, he ranged with warlike art 
Each body of the host apart. [446] 

"There in the centre," Rama cried, 
"Be Angad's place by Nila's side. 
Let Rishabh of impetuous might 
Be lord and leader on the right, 
And Gandhamadan, next in rank, 
Be captain of the farther flank. 
Lakshman and I the hosts will lead, 



1572 The Ramayana 

And Jambavan of ursine breed, 
With bold Sushen unused to fear, 
And Vegadarsi, guide the rear." 



Thus Rama spoke: the chiefs obeyed; 
And all the Vanar hosts arrayed 
Showed awful as the autumn sky 
When clouds embattled form on high. 
Their arms were mighty trees o'erthrown, 
And massy blocks of mountain stone. 
One hope in every warlike breast, 
One firm resolve, they onward pressed, 
To die in fight or batter down 
The walls and towers of Lanka's town. 



Those marshalled legions Rama eyed, 
And thus to King Sugriva cried: 
"Now, Monarch, ere the hosts proceed, 
Let Suka, Ravan's spy, be freed." 
He spoke: the Vanar gave consent 
And loosed him from imprisonment: 
And Suka, trembling and afraid, 
His homeward way to Ravan made. 
Loud laughed the lord of Lanka's isle: 
"Where hast thou stayed this weary while? 
Why is thy plumage marred, and why 
Do twisted cords thy pinions tie? 
Say, comest thou in evil plight 
The victim of the Vanars' spite?" 



Canto XXIV. The Spy's Return. 1573 

He ceased: the spy his fear controlled, 
And to the king his story told: 
"I reached the ocean's distant shore, 
Thy message to the king I bore. 
In sudden wrath the Vanars rose, 
They struck me down with furious blows; 
They seized me helpless on the ground, 
My plumage rent, my pinions bound. 
They would not, headlong in their ire, 
Consider, listen, or inquire; 
So fickle, wrathful, rough and rude 
Is the wild forest multitude. 
There, marshalling the Vanar bands, 
King Rama with Sugriva stands, 
Rama the matchless warrior, who 
Viradha and Kabandha slew, 
Khara, and countless giants more, 
And tracks his queen to Lanka's shore. 
A bridge athwart the sea was cast, 
And o'er it have his legions passed. 
Hark! heralded by horns and drums 
The terrible avenger comes. 
E'en now the giants' isle he fills 
With warriors huge as clouds and hills, 
And burning with vindictive hate 
Will thunder soon at Lanka's gate. 
Yield or oppose him: choose between 
Thy safety and the Maithil queen." 

He ceased: the tyrant's eyeballs blazed 
With fury as his voice he raised: 
"No, if the dwellers of the sky, 
Gandharvas, fiends assail me, I 
Will keep the Maithil lady still, 



1574 The Ramayana 

Nor yield her back for fear of ill. 
When shall my shafts with iron hail 
My foeman, Raghu's son, assail, 
Thick as the bees with eager wing 
Beat on the flowery trees of spring? 
O, let me meet my foe at length, 
And strip him of his vaunted strength, 
Fierce as the sun who shines afar 
Stealing the light of every star. 
Strong as the sea's impetuous might 
My ways are like the tempest's flight; 
But Rama knows not this, or he 
In terror from my face would flee." 



Canto XXV. Ravan's Spies 



938 



When Rama and the host he led 

Across the sea had safely sped, 

Thus Ravan, moved by wrath and pride, 

To Suka and to Saran cried: 

"O counsellors, the Vanar host 

Has passed the sea from coast to coast, 

And Dasaratha's son has wrought 

A wondrous deed surpassing thought. 

And now in truth I needs must know 

The strength and number of the foe. 

Go ye, to Rama's host repair 

And count me all the legions there. 

Learn well what power each captain leads 



938 Here in the Bengal recension (Gorresio's edition), begins Book VI. 



Canto XXV. Ravan's Spies. 1575 

His name and fame for warlike deeds. 
Learn by what artist's wondrous aid 
That bridge athwart the sea was made; 
Learn how the Vanar host came o'er 
And halted on the island shore. 
Mark Rama son of Raghu well; 
His valour, strength, and weapons tell. 
Watch his advisers one by one, 
And Lakshman, Raghu's younger son. 
Learn with observant eyes, and bring 
"Unerring tidings to your king. 

He ceased: then swift in Vanar guise 
Forth on their errand sped the spies. 
They reached the Vanars, and, dismayed, 
Their never-ending lines surveyd: 
Nor would they try, in mere despair, 

To count the countless legions there, [447] 

That crowded valley, plain and hill, 
That pressed about each cave and rill. 
Though sea-like o'er the land were spread 
The endless hosts which Rama led, 
The bridge by thousands yet was lined, 
And eager myriads pressed behind. 
But sage Vibhishan's watchful eyes 
Had marked the giants in disguise. 
He gave command the pair to seize, 
And told the tale in words like these: 

"O Rama these, well known erewhile, 
Are giant sons of Lanka's isle, 
Two counsellors of Ravan sent 
To watch the invading armament." 



1576 The Ramayana 

Vibhishan ceased: at Rama's look 
The Rakshas envoys quailed and shook; 
Then suppliant hand to hand they pressed 
And thus Ikshvaku's son addressed: 
"O Rama, bear the truth we speak: 
Our monarch Ravan bade us seek 
The Vanar legions and survey 
Their numbers, strength, and vast array." 

Then Rama, friend and hope and guide 
Of suffering creatures, thus replied: 

"Now giants, if your eyes have scanned 
Our armies, numbering every band, 
Marked lord and chief, and gazed their fill, 
Return to Ravan when ye will. 
If aught remain, if aught anew 
Ye fain would scan with closer view, 
Vibhishan, ready at your call, 
Will lead you forth and show you all. 
Think not of bonds and capture; fear 
No loss of life, no peril here: 
For, captive, helpless and unarmed, 
An envoy never should be harmed. 
Again to Lanka's town repair, 
Speed to the giant monarch there, 
And be these words to Ravan told, 
Fierce brother of the Lord of Gold: 
"Now, tyrant, tremble for thy sin: 
Call up thy friends, thy kith and kin, 
And let the power and might be seen 
Which made thee bold to steal my queen. 
To-morrow shall thy mournful eye 
Behold thy bravest warriors die, 



Canto XXV. Ravan's Spies. 1577 

And Lanka's city, tower and wall, 
Struck by my fiery shafts, will fall. 
Then shall my vengeful blow descend 
Its rage on thee and thine to spend, 
Fierce as the fiery bolt that flew 
From heaven against the Danav crew, 
Mid those rebellious demons sent 
By him who rules the firmament." 

Thus spake Ikshvaku's son, and ceased: 
The giants from their bonds released 
Lauded the King with glad accord, 
And hasted homeward to their lord. 
Before the tyrant side by side 
Suka and Saran stood and cried: 
"Vibhishan seized us, King, and fain 
His helpless captives would have slain. 
But glorious Rama saw us; he, 
Great-hearted hero, made us free. 
There in one spot our eyes beheld 
Four chiefs on earth unparalleled, 
Who with the guardian Gods may vie 
Who rule the regions of the sky. 
There Rama stood, the boast and pride 
Of Raghu's race, by Lakshman's side. 
There stood the sage Vibhishan, there 
Sugriva strong beyond compare. 
These four alone can batter down 
Gate, rampart, wall, and Lanka's town. 
Nay, Rama matchless in his form, 
A single foe, thy town would storm: 
So wondrous are his weapons, he 
Needs not the succour of the three. 
Why speak we of the countless train 



1578 The Ramayana 

That fills the valley, hill and plain, 
The millions of the Vanar breed 
Whom Rama and Sugriva lead? 
O King, be wise, contend no more, 
And Sita to her lord restore." 



Canto XXVI. The Vanar Chiefs. 



"Not if the Gods in heaven who dwell, 
Gandharvas, and the fiends of hell 
In banded opposition rise 
Against me, will I yield my prize. 
Still trembling from the ungentle touch 
Of Vanar hands ye fear too much, 
And bid me, heedless of the shame, 
Give to her lord the Maithil dame." 

Thus spoke the king in stern reproof; 
Then mounted to his palace roof 
Aloft o'er many a story raised, 
And on the lands beneath him gazed. 
There by his faithful spies he stood 
And looked on sea and hill and wood. 
There stretched before him far away 
The Vanars' numberless array: 
Scarce could the meadows' tender green 
Beneath their trampling feet be seen. 
He looked a while with furious eye, 
Then questioned thus the nearer spy: 
"Bend, Saran, bend thy gaze, and show 
The leaders of the Vanar foe. 



Canto XXVI. The Vanar Chiefs. 1579 

Tell me their heroes' names, and teach 
The valour, power and might of each." 

Obedient Saran eyed the van, 
The leaders marked, and thus began: 
"That chief conspicuous at the head 
Of warriors in the forest bred, 
Who hither bends his ruthless eye 

And shouts his fearful battle cry: [448] 

Whose voice with pealing thunder shakes 
All Lanka, with the groves and lakes 
And hills that tremble at the sound, 
Is Nila, for his might renowned: 
First of the Vanar lords controlled 
By King Sugriva lofty-souled. 
He who his mighty arm extends, 
And his fierce eye on Lanka bends, 
In stature like a stately tower, 
In colour like a lotus flower, 
Who with his wild earth-shaking cries 
Thee, Ravan, to the field defies, 
Is Angad, by Sugriva's care 
Anointed his imperial heir: 
In wondrous strength, in martial fire 
Peer of King Bali's self, his sire; 
For Rama's sake in arms arrayed 
Like Varun called to Sakra's aid. 
Behind him, girt by warlike bands, 
Nala the mighty Vanar stands, 
The son of Visvakarma, he 
Who built the bridge athwart the sea. 
Look farther yet, O King, and mark 
That chieftain clothed in Sandal bark. 
'Tis Sweta, famed among his peers, 



1580 The Ramayana 

A sage whom all his race reveres. 

See, in Sugriva's ear he speaks, 

Then, hasting back, his post reseeks, 

And turns his practised eye to view 

The squadrons he has formed anew. 

Next Kumud stands who roamed of yore 

On Gomati's 939 delightful shore, 

Feared where the waving woods invest 

His seat on Mount Sanrochan's crest. 

Next him a chieftain strong and dread, 

Comes Chanda at his legions' head; 

Exulting in his warrior might 

He hastens, burning for the fight, 

And boasts that his unaided powers 

Shall cast to earth thy walls and towers. 

Mark, mark that chief of lion gait, 

Who views thee with a glance of hate 

As though his very eyes would burn 

The city walls to which they turn: 

'Tis Rambha, Vanar king; he dwells 

In Krishnagiri's tangled dells, 

Where Vindhya's pleasant slopes are spread 

And fair Sudarsan lifts his head. 

There, listening with erected ears, 

Sarabha, mighty chief, appears. 

His soul is burning for the strife, 

Nor dreads the jeopardy of life. 

He trembles as he moves, for ire, 

And bends around his glance of fire. 

Next, like a cloud that veils the skies, 

A chieftain of terrific size, 

Conspicuous mid the Vanars, comes 



' The Goomtee. 



Canto XXVII. The Vanar Chiefs. 1581 

With battle shout like rolling drums, 

Tis Panas, trained in war and tried, 

Who dwells on Pariyatra's side. 

He, far away, the chief who throws 

A glory o'er the marshalled rows 

That ranged behind their captain stand 

Exulting on the ocean strand, 

Is Vinata the fierce in fight, 

Preeminent like Dardur's height. 

That chieftain bending down to drink 

On lovely Vena's verdant brink, 

Is Krathan; now he lifts his eyes 

And thee to mortal fray defies. 

Next Gavaya comes, whose haughty mind 

Scorns all the warriors of his kind. 

He comes to trample — such his boast — 

On Lanka with his single host." 



Canto XXVII. The Vanar Chiefs. 



"Yet more remain, brave chiefs who stake 
Their noble lives for Rama's sake. 
See, glorious, golden-coated, one 
Who glisters like the morning sun, 
Whom thousands of his race surround, 
'Tis Hara for his strength renowned. 
Next comes a mighty chieftain, he 
Whose legions, armed with rock and tree, 
Press on, in numbers passing tale, 
The ramparts of our town to scale. 
O Ravan, see the king advance 



1582 The Ramayana 

Terrific with his fiery glance, 
Girt by the bravest of his train, 
Majestic as the God of Rain, 
Parjanya, when his host of clouds 
About the king, embattled, crowds: 
On Rikshavan's high mountain nursed, 
In Narmada 940 he slakes his thirst, 
Dhumra, proud ursine chief, who leads 
Wild warriors whom the forest breeds. 
His brother, next in strength and age, 
In Jambavan the famous sage. 
Of yore his might and skill he lent 
To him who rules the firmament, 
And Indra's liberal boons repaid 
The chieftain for the timely aid. 
There like a gloomy cloud that flies 
Borne by the tempest through the skies, 
Pramathi stands: he roamed of yore 
The forest wilds on Ganga's shore, 
Where elephants were struck with dread 
And trembling at his coming fled. 
There on his foes he loved to sate 
[449] The old hereditary hate. 941 

Look, Gaja and Gavaksha show 
Their lust of battle with the foe. 
See Nala burning for the fray, 
And Nfla chafing at delay. 
Behind the eager captains press 
Wild hosts in numbers numberless, 
And each for Rama's sake would fall 



940 The Anglicized Nerbudda. 

941 According to a Pauranik legend Kesari Hanuman's putative father had killed 
an Asur or demon who appeared in the form of an elephant, and hence arose 
the hostility between Vanars and elephants. 



Canto XXVIII. The Chieftains. 1583 

Or force his way through Lanka's wall." 



Canto XXVIII. The Chieftains. 



There Saran ceased: then Suka broke 
The silence and to Ravan spoke: 
"O Monarch, yonder chiefs survey: 
Like elephants in size are they, 
And tower like stately trees that grow 
Where Ganga's nursing waters flow; 
Yea, tall as mountain pines that fling 
Long shadows o'er the snow-crowned king. 
They all in wild Kishkindha dwell 
And serve their lord Sugriva well. 
The Gods' and bright Gandharvas' seed, 
They take each form that suits their need. 
Now farther look, O Monarch, where 
Those chieftains stand, a glorious pair, 
Conspicuous for their godlike frames; 
Dwivid and Mainda are their names. 
Their lips the drink of heaven have known, 
And Brahma claims them for his own. 
That chieftain whom thine eyes behold 
Refulgent like a hill of gold, 
Before whose wrathful might the sea 
Roused from his rest would turn and flee, 
The peerless Vanar, he who came 
To Lanka for the Maithil dame, 
The Wind-God's son Hanuman; thou 
Hast seen him once, behold him now. 
Still nearer let thy glance be bent, 



1584 The Ramayana 

And mark that prince preeminent 
Mid chieftains for his strength and size 
And splendour of his lotus eyes. 
Far through the worlds his virtues shine, 
The glory of Ikshvaku's line. 
The path of truth he never leaves, 
And still through all to duty cleaves. 
Deep in the Vedas, skilled to wield 
The mystic shafts to him revealed: 
Whose flaming darts to heaven ascend, 
And through the earth a passage rend: 
In might like him who rules the sky; 
Like Yama, when his wrath grows high: 
Whose queen, the darling of his soul, 
Thy magic art deceived and stole: 
There royal Rama stands and longs 
For battle to avenge his wrongs. 
Near on his right a prince, in hue 
Like pure gold freshly burnished, view: 
Broad is his chest, his eye is red, 
His black hair curls about his head: 
'Tis Lakshman, faithful friend, who shares 
His brother's joys, his brother's cares. 
By Rama's side he loves to stand 
And serve him as his better hand, 
For whose dear sake without a sigh 
The warrior youth would gladly die. 
On Rama's left Vibhishan view, 
With giants for his retinue: 
King-making drops have dewed his head, 
Appointed monarch in thy stead. 
Behold that chieftain sternly still, 
High towering like a rooted hill, 
Supreme in power and pride of place, 



Canto XXIX. Sardula Captured. 1585 

The monarch of the Vanar race. 
Raised high above his woodland kind, 
In might and glory, frame and mind, 
His head above his host he shows 
Conspicuous as the Lord of Snows. 
His home is far from hostile eyes 
Where deep in woods Kishkindha lies. 
A glistering chain which flowers bedeck 
With burnished gold adorns his neck. 
Queen Fortune, loved by Gods and kings, 
To him her chosen favourite clings. 
That chain he owes to Rama's grace, 
And Tara and his kingly place. 
In him the great Sugriva know, 
Whom Rama rescued from his foe." 942 



Canto XXIX. Sardula Captured. 



The giant viewed with earnest ken 
The Vanars and the lords of men; 
Then thus, with grief and anger moved, 
In bitter tone the spies reproved: 
"Can faithful servants hope to please 
Their master with such fates as these? 
Or hope ye with wild words to wring 
The bosom of your lord and king? 
Such words were better said by those 
Who come arrayed our mortal foes. 



Here follows the enumeration of Sugrfva's forces which I do not attempt to 
follow. It soon reaches a hundred thousand billions. 



1586 The Ramayana 

In vain your ears have heard the sage, 
And listened to the lore of age, 
Untaught, though lectured many a day, 
The first great lesson, to obey, 
'Tis marvel Ravan reigns and rules 
Whose counsellors are blind and fools. 
Has death no terrors that ye dare 
[450] To tempt your monarch to despair, 

From whose imperial mandate flow 
Disgrace and honour, weal and woe? 
Yea, forest trees, when flames are fanned 
About their scorching trunks, may stand; 
But naught can set the sinner free 
When kings the punishment decree. 
I would not in mine anger spare 
The traitorous foe-praising pair, 
But years of faithful service plead 
For pardon, and they shall not bleed. 
Henceforth to me be dead: depart, 
Far from my presence and my heart." 

Thus spoke the angry king: the two 
Cried, Long live Ravan, and withdrew, 
The giant monarch turned and cried 
To strong Mahodar at his side: 
"Go thou, and spies more faithful bring. 
More duteous to their lord the king." 

Swift at his word Mahodar shed, 
And came returning at the head 
Of long tried messengers, who bent 
Before their monarch reverent. 
"Go quickly hence," said Ravan "scan 
With keenest eyes the foeman's plan. 



Canto XXIX. Sardula Captured. 1587 

Learn who, as nearest friends, advise 
And mould each secret enterprise. 
Learn when he wakes and goes to rest, 
Sound every purpose of his breast. 
Learn what the prince intends to-day: 
Watch keenly all, and come away." 



With joy they heard the words he said: 
Then with Sardula at their head 
About the giant king they went 
With circling paces reverent. 
By fair Suvela's grassy side 
The chiefs of Raghu's race they spied, 
Where, shaded by the waving wood, 
Vibhishan and Sugriva stood. 
A while they rested there and viewed 
The Vanars' countless multitude. 
Vibhishan with observant eyes 
Knew at a glance the giant spies, 
And bade the warriors of his train 
Bind the rash foes with cord and chain: 
"Sardinia's is the sin," he cried. 
He neath the Vanars' hands had died, 
But Rama from their fury freed 
The captive in his utmost need, 
And, merciful at sight of woe, 
Loosed all the spies and bade them go. 
Then home to Lanka's monarch fled 
The giant chiefs discomfited. 



1588 The Ramayana 

Canto XXX. Sardula's Speech. 

They told their lord that Rama still 
Lay waiting by Suvela's hill. 
The tyrant, flushed with angry glow, 
Heard of the coming of the foe, 
And thus with close inquiry pressed 
Sardula spokesman for the rest: 
"Why art thou sad, night-rover? speak: 
Has grief or terror changed thy cheek? 
Have the wild Vanars' hostile bands 
Assailed thee with their mighty hands?" 

Sardula heard, but scarce might speak; 
His trembling tones were faint and weak: 
"O Giant King, in vain we try 
The purpose of the foe to spy. 
Their strength and number none may tell, 
And Rama guards his legions well. 
He leaves no hope to prying eyes, 
And parley with the chiefs denies: 
Each road and path a Vanar guard, 
Of mountain size, has closed and barred. 
Soon as my feet an entrance found 
By giants was I seized and bound, 
And wounded sore I fell beneath 
Their fists and knees and hands and teeth. 
Then trembling, bleeding, wellnigh dead 
To Rama's presence was I led. 
He in his mercy stooped to save, 
And freedom to the captive gave. 
With rocks and shattered mountains he 
Has bridged his way athwart the sea, 
And he and all his legions wait 



Canto XXXI. The Magic Head. 1589 

Embattled close to Lanka's gate. 
Soon will the host thy wall assail, 
And, swarming on, the rampart scale. 
Now, O my King, his consort yield, 
Or arm thee with the sword and shield. 
This choice is left thee: choose between 
Thy safety and the Maithil queen." 943 



Canto XXXI. The Magic Head. 

The tyrant's troubled eye confessed 

The secret fear that filled his breast. 

With dread of coming woe dismayed 

He called his counsellors to aid; 

Then sternly silent, deep in thought, 

His chamber in the palace sought. 

Then, as the surest hope of all, 

The monarch bade his servants call [451] 

Vidyujjihva, whom magic skill 

Made master of the means of ill. 

Then spake the lord of Lanka's isle: 

"Come, Sita with thine arts beguile. 

With magic skill and deftest care 

A head like Rama's own prepare. 

This head, long shafts and mighty bow, 

To Janak's daughter will we show." 



943 I omit the rest of this canto, which is mere repetition. Ravan gives in the 
same words his former answer that the Gods, Gandharvas and fiends combined 
shall not force him to give up Sita. He then orders Sardula to tell him the names 
of the Vanar chieftains whom he has seen in Rama's army. These have already 
been mentioned by Suka and Saran. 



1590 The Ramayana 

He ceased: Vidyujjihva obeyed, 
And wondrous magic skill displayed; 
And Ravan for the art he showed 
An ornament of price bestowed. 
Then to the grove where Sita lay 
The lord of Lanka took his way. 
Pale, wasted, weeping, on the ground 
The melancholy queen he found, 
Whose thoughts in utmost stress of ill 
Were fixed upon her husband still. 
The giant king approached the dame, 
Declared in tones of joy his name; 
Then heeding naught her wild distress 
Bespake her, stern and pitiless: 
"The prince to whom thy fancies cling 
Though loved and wooed by Lanka's king, 
Who slew the noble Khara, — he 
Is slain by warriors sent by me. 
Thy living root is hewn away, 
Thy scornful pride is tamed to-day. 
Thy lord in battle's front has died, 
And Sita shall be Ravan's bride. 
Hence, idle thoughts: thy hope is fled; 
What wilt thou, Sita, with the dead? 
Rise, child of Janak, rise and be 
The queen of all my queens and me. 
Incline thine ear, and I will tell, 
Dear lady, how thy husband fell. 
He bridged his way across the sea 
With countless troops to fight with me. 
The setting sun had flushed the west 
When on the shore they took their rest. 
Weary with toil no watch they kept, 
Securely on the sands they slept. 



Canto XXXI. The Magic Head. 1591 

Prahasta's troops assailed our foes, 

And smote them in their deep repose. 

Scarce could their bravest prove their might: 

They perished in the dark of night. 

Axe, spear, and sword, directed well, 

Upon the sleeping myriads fell. 

First in the fight Prahasta's sword 

Reft of his head thy slumbering lord. 

Roused at the din Vibhishan rose, 

The captive of surrounding foes, 

And Lakshman through the woods that spread 

Around him with his Vanars fled. 

Hanuman fell: one deadly stroke 

The neck of King Sugriva broke, 

And Mainda sank, and Dwivid lay 

Gasping in blood his life away. 

The Vanars died, or fled dispersed 

Like cloudlets when the storm has burst. 

Some rose aloft in air, and more 

Ran to the sea and filled the shore. 

On shore, in woods, on hill and plain 

Our conquering giants left the slain. 

Thus my victorious host o'erthrew 

The Vanars, and thy husband slew: 

See, rudely stained with dust, and red 

With dropping blood, the severed head." 

Then, turning to a Rakshas slave, 
The ruthless king his mandate gave, 
And straight Vidyujjihva who bore 
The head still wet with dripping gore, 
The arrows and the mighty bow, 
Bent down before his master low. 
"Vidyujjihva," cried Ravan, "place 



1592 The Ramayana 

The head before the lady's face, 
And let her see with weeping eyes 
That low in death her husband lies." 

Before the queen the giant laid 
The beauteous head his art had made. 
And Ravan cried: "Thine eyes will know 
These arrows and the mighty bow. 
With fame of this by Rama strung 
The earth and heaven and hell have rung. 
Prahasta brought it hither when 
His hand had slain thy prince of men. 
Now, widowed Queen, thy hopes resign: 
Forget thy husband and be mine." 



Canto XXXII. SM's Lament. 



Again her eyes with tears o'erflowed: 
She gazed upon the head he showed, 
Gazed on the bow so famed of yore, 
The glorious bow which Rama bore. 
She gazed upon his cheek and brows, 
The eyes of her beloved spouse; 
His lips, the lustre of his hair, 
The priceless gem that glittered there. 
The features of her lord she knew, 
And, pierced with anguish at the view, 
She lifted up her voice and cried: 
"Kaikeyi, art thou satisfied? 
Now all thy longings are fulfilled; 
The joy of Raghu's race is killed, 



Canto XXXII. Sita's Lament. 1593 

And ruined is the ancient line, 
Destroyer, by that fraud of thine. 
Ah, what offence, O cruel dame, 
What fault in Rama couldst thou blame, 
To drive him clad in hermit dress 
With Sita to the wilderness?" 

Great trembling seized her frame, and she 
Fell like a stricken plantain tree. 
As lie the dead she lay; at length 
Slowly regaining sense and strength, 

On the dear head she fixed her eye [452] 

And cried with very bitter cry: 
"Ah, when thy cold dead cheek I view, 
My hero, I am murdered too. 
Then first a faithful woman's eyes 
See sorrow, when her husband dies. 
When thou, my lord, wast nigh to save, 
Some stealthy hand thy death wound gave. 
Thou art not dead: rise, hero, rise; 
Long life was thine, as spake the wise 
Whose words, I ween, are ever true, 
For faith lies open to their view. 
Ah lord, and shall thy head recline 
On earth's cold breast, forsaking mine, 
Counting her chill lap dearer far 
Than I and my caresses are? 
Ah, is it thus these eyes behold 
Thy famous bow adorned with gold, 
Whereon of yore I loved to bind 
Sweet garlands that my hands had twined? 
And hast thou sought in heaven a place 
Amid the founders of thy race, 
Where in the home deserved so well 



1594 The Ramayana 

Thy sires and Dasaratha dwell? 

Or dost thou shine a brighter star 

In skies where blest immortals are, 

Forsaking in thy lofty scorn 

The race wherein thy sires were born? 

Turn to my gaze, O turn thine eye: 

Why are thy cold lips silent, why? 

When first we met as youth and maid, 

When in thy hand my hand was laid, 

Thy promise was thy steps should be 

Through life in duty's path with me. 

Remember, faithful still, thy vow, 

And take me with thee even now. 

Is that broad bosom where I hung, 

That neck to which I fondly clung, 

Where flowery garlands breathed their scent 

By hungry dogs and vultures rent? 

Shall no funereal honours grace 

The parted lord of Raghu's race, 

Whose bounty liberal fees bestowed, 

For whom the fires of worship glowed? 

Kausalya wild with grief will see 

One sole survivor of the three 

Who in their hermit garments went 

To the dark woods in banishment. 

Then at her cry shall Lakshman tell 

How, slain by night, the Vanars fell; 

How to thy side the giants crept, 

And slew the hero as he slept. 

Thy fate and mine the queen will know, 

And broken-hearted die of woe. 

For my unworthy sake, for mine, 

Rama, the glory of his line, 

Who bridged his way across the main, 



Canto XXXII. Sita's Lament. 1595 

Is basely in a puddle slain; 

And I, the graceless wife he wed, 

Have brought this ruin on his head. 

Me, too, on him, O Ravan, slay: 

The wife beside her husband lay. 

By his dear body let me rest, 

Cheek close to cheek and breast to breast, 

My happy eyes I then will close, 

And follow whither Rama goes." 



Thus cried the miserable dame; 
When to the king a warder came, 
Before the giant monarch bowed 
And said that, followed by a crowd 
Of counsellors and lords of state, 
Prahasta stood before the gate, 
And, sent by some engrossing care, 
Craved audience of his master there. 
The anxious tyrant left his seat 
And hastened forth the chief to meet: 
Then summoning his nobles all, 
Took counsel in his regal hall. 



When Lanka's lord had left the queen, 
The head and bow no more were seen. 
The giant king his nobles eyed, 
And, terrible as Yama, cried: 
"O faithful lords, the time is come: 
Gather our hosts with beat of drum. 
Nigh to the town our foeman draws: 
Be prudent, nor reveal the cause." 



1596 The Ramayana 

The nobles listened and obeyed: 
Swift were the gathered troops arrayed, 
And countless rovers of the night 
Stood burning for the hour of fight. 



Canto XXXIII. Sarama. 



But Sarama, of gentler mood, 
With pitying eyes the mourner viewed, 
Stole to her side and softly told 
Glad tidings that her heart consoled, 
Revealing with sweet voice and smile 
The secret of the giant's guile. 
She, one of those who night and day 
Watching in turns by Sita lay, 
Though Rakshas born felt pity's touch, 
And loved the hapless lady much. 

"I heard," she said, "thy bitter cry, 
Heard Ravan's speech and thy reply, 
For, hiding in the thicket near, 
No word or tone escaped mine ear. 
When Ravan hastened forth I bent 
My steps to follow as he went, 
And learnt the secret cause that drove 
The monarch from the Asoka grove. 
Believe me, Queen, thou needst not weep 
For Rama slaughtered in his sleep. 
Thy lion lord of men defies 
By day attack, by night surprise. 
Can even giants slay with ease 



Canto XXXIII. Sarama. 1597 

Vast hosts who fight with brandished trees, 

For whom, with eye that never sleeps, 

His constant watch thy Rama keeps? [453] 

Lord of the mighty arm and chest, 

Of earthly warriors first and best, 

Whose fame through all the regions rings, 

Proud scion of a hundred kings; 

Who guards his life and loves to lend 

His saving succour to a friend: 

Whose bow no hand but his can strain, — 

Thy lord, thy Rama is not slain. 

Obedient to his master's will, 

A great magician, trained in ill, 

With deftest art surpassing thought 

That marvellous illusion wrought. 

Let rising hope thy grief dispel: 

Look up and smile, for all is well, 

And gentle Lakshmi, Fortune's Queen, 

Regards thee with a favouring mien. 

Thy Rama with his Vanar train 

Has thrown a bridge athwart the main, 

Has led his countless legions o'er, 

And ranged them on this southern shore. 

These eyes have seen the hero stand 

Girt by his hosts on Lanka's strand, 

And breathless spies each moment bring 

Fresh tidings to the giant king; 

And every peer and lord of state 

Is called to counsel and debate." 

She ceased: the sound, long loud and clear, 
Of gathering armies smote her ear, 
Where call of drum and shell rang out, 
The tambour and the battle shout; 



1598 The Ramayana 

And, while the din the echoes woke, 
Again to Janak's child she spoke: 
"Hear, lady, hear the loud alarms 
That call the Rakshas troops to arms, 
From stable and from stall they lead 
The elephant and neighing steed, 
Brace harness on with deftest care, 
And chariots for the fight prepare. 
Swift o'er the trembling ground career 
Mailed horsemen armed with axe and spear, 
And here and there in road and street 
The terrible battalions meet. 
I hear the gathering near and far, 
The snorting steed, the rattling car. 
Bold chieftains, leaders of the brave, 
Press densely on, like wave on wave, 
And bright the evening sunbeams glance 
On helm and shield, on sword and lance. 
Hark, lady, to the ringing steel, 
Hark to the rolling chariot wheel: 
Hark to the mettled courser's neigh 
And drums' loud thunder far away. 
The Queen of Fortune holds thee dear, 
For Lanka's troops are struck with fear, 
And Rama with the lotus eyes, 
Like Indra monarch of the skies, 
With conquering arm will slay his foe 
And free his lady from her woe. 
Soon will his breast support thy head, 
And tears of joy thine eyes will shed. 
Soon by his mighty arm embraced 
The long-lost rapture wilt thou taste, 
And Rama, meet for highest bliss, 
Will gain his guerdon in thy kiss." 



Canto XXXIV. Sarama's Tidings. 1599 

Canto XXXIV. Sarama's Tidings. 



Thus Sarama her story told: 

And Sita's spirit was consoled, 

As when the first fresh rain is shed 

The parching earth is comforted. 

Then, filled with zeal for Sita's sake, 

Again in gentle tones she spake, 

And, skilled in arts that soothe and please, 

Addressed the queen in words like these: 

"Thy husband, lady, will I seek, 

Say the fond words thy lips would speak, 

And then, unseen of any eye, 

Back to thy side will swiftly fly. 

My airy flights are speedier far 

Than Garuda's and the tempest are." 

Then Sita spake: her former woe 
Still left her accents faint and low: 
"I know thy steps, which naught can stay, 
Can urge through heaven and hell their way. 
Then if thy love and changeless will 
Would serve the helpless captive still, 
Go forth and learn each plot and guile 
Planned by the lord of Lanka's isle. 
With magic art like maddening wine 
He cheats these weeping eyes of mine, 
Torments me with his suit, nor spares 
Reproof or flattery, threats or prayers. 
These guards surround me night and day; 
My heart is sad, my senses stray; 
And helpless in my woe I fear 
The tyrant Ravan even here." 



1600 The Ramayana 

Then Sarama replied: "I go 
To learn the purpose of thy foe, 
Soon by thy side again to stand 
And tell thee what the king has planned." 
She sped, she heard with eager ears 
The tyrant speak his hopes and fears, 
Where, gathered at their master's call, 
The nobles filled the council hall; 
Then swiftly, to her promise true, 
Back to the Asoka grove she flew. 
The lady on the grassy ground, 
Longing for her return, she found; 
Who with a gentle smile, to greet 
The envoy, led her to a seat. 
Through her worn frame a shiver ran 
As Sarama her tale began: 
"There stood the royal mother: she 
[454] Besought her son to set thee free, 

And to her counsel, tears and prayers, 
The elder nobles added theirs: 
"O be the Maithil queen restored 
With honour to her angry lord, 
Let Janasthan's unhappy fight 
Be witness of the hero's might. 
Haniiman o'er the waters came 
And looked upon the guarded dame. 
Let Lanka's chiefs who fought and fell 
The prowess of the leader tell." 
In vain they sued, in vain she wept, 
His purpose still unchanged he kept, 
As clings the miser to his gold, 
He would not loose thee from his hold. 
No, never till in death he lies, 
Will Lanka's lord release his prize. 



Canto XXXV. Malyavan's Speech. 1601 

Soon slain by Rama's arrows all 

The giants with their king will fall, 

And Rama to his home will lead 

His black-eyed queen from bondage freed." 

An awful sound that moment rose 
From Lanka's fast-approaching foes, 
Where drum and shell in mingled peal 
Made earth in terror rock and reel. 
The hosts within the walls arrayed 
Stood trembling, in their hearts dismayed; 
Thought of the tempest soon to burst, 
And Lanka's lord, their ruin, cursed. 



Canto XXXV. Malyavan's Speech. 

The fearful notes of drum and shell 

Upon the ear of Ravan fell. 

One moment quailed his haughty look, 

One moment in his fear he shook, 

But soon recalling wonted pride, 

His counsellors he sternly eyed, 

And with a voice that thundered through 

The council hall began anew: 

"Lords, I have heard — your tongues have told — 

How Raghu's son is fierce and bold. 

To Lanka's shore has bridged his way 

And hither leads his wild array. 

I know your might, in battle tried, 

Fighting and conquering by my side. 

Why now, when such a foe is near, 

Looks eye to eye in silent fear?" 



1602 The Ramayana 

He ceased, his mother's sire well known 
For wisdom in the council shown, 
Malyavan, sage and faithful guide. 
Thus to the monarch's speech replied: 
"Long reigns the king in safe repose, 
Unmoved by fear of vanquished foes, 
Whose feet by saving knowledge led 
Injustice path delight to tread: 
Who knows to sheath the sword or wield, 
To order peace, to strike or yield: 
Prefers, when foes are stronger, peace, 
And bids a doubtful conflict cease. 
Now, King, the choice before thee lies, 
Make peace with Rama, and be wise. 
This day the captive queen restore 
Who brings the foe to Lanka's shore. 
The Sire by whom the worlds are swayed 
Of yore the Gods and demons made. 
With these Injustice sided; those 
Fair Justice for her champions chose. 
Still Justice dwells with Gods above; 
Injustice, fiends and giants love. 
Thou, through the worlds that fear thee, long 
Hast scorned the right and loved the wrong, 
And Justice, with thy foes allied, 
Gives might resistless to their side. 
Thou, guided by thy wicked will, 
Hast found delight in deeds of ill, 
And sages in their holy rest 
Have trembled, by thy power oppressed. 
But they, who check each vain desire, 
Are clothed with might which burns like fire. 
In them the power and glory live 
Which zeal and saintly fervour give. 



Canto XXXV. Malyavan's Speech. 1603 

Their constant task, their sole delight 

Is worship and each holy rite, 

To chant aloud the Veda hymn, 

Nor let the sacred fires grow dim. 

Now through the air like thunder ring 

The echoes of the chants they sing. 

The vapours of their incense rise 

And veil with cloudy pall the skies, 

And Rakshas might grows weak and faint 

Killed by the power of sage and saint. 

By Brahma's boon thy life was screened 

From God, Gandharva, Yaksha, fiend; 

But Vanars, men, and bears, arrayed 

Against thee now, thy shores invade. 

Red meteors, heralds of despair 

Flash frequent through the lurid air, 

Foretelling to my troubled mind 

The ruin of the Rakshas kind. 

With awful thundering overhead 

Clouds black as night are densely spread, 

And oozing from the gloomy pall 

Great drops of blood on Lanka fall. 

Dogs roam through house and shrine to steal 

The sacred oil and curd and meal, 

Cats pair with tigers, hounds with swine, 

And asses' foals are born of kine. 

In these and countless signs I trace 

The ruin of the giant race. 

'Tis Vishnu's self who comes to storm 

Thy city, clothed in Rama's form; 

For, well I ween, no mortal hand 

The ocean with a bridge has spanned. 

O giant King, the dame release, 

And sue to Raghu's son for peace" 



1604 The Ramayana 



[455] 



Canto XXXVI. Ravan's Reply. 



But Ravan's breast with fury swelled, 
And thus he spake by Death impelled, 
While, under brows in anger bent, 
Fierce glances from his eyes were sent: 
"The bitter words which thou, misled 
By friendly thought, hast fondly said, 
Which praise the foe and counsel fear, 
Unheeded fall upon mine ear. 
How canst thou deem a mighty foe 
This Rama who, in stress of woe, 
Seeks, banished as his sire decreed, 
Assistance from the Vanar breed? 
Am I so feeble in thine eyes, 
Though feared by dwellers of the skies, - 
Whose might in many a battle shown 
The glorious race of giants own? 
Shall I for fear of him restore 
The lady whom I hither bore, 
Exceeding fair like Beauty's Queen 944 
Without her well-loved lotus seen? 
Around the chief let Lakshman stand, 
Sugriva, and each Vanar band, 
Soon, Malyavan, thine eyes will see 
This boasted Rama slain by me. 
I in the brunt of war defy 



Lakshmi is the Goddess both of beauty and fortune, and is represented with 
a lotus in her hand. 



Canto XXXVI. Ravan's Reply. 1605 

The mightiest warriors of the sky; 
And if I stoop to combat men, 
Shall I be weak and tremble then? 
This mangled trunk the foe may rend, 
But Ravan ne'er can yield or bend, 
And be it vice or virtue, I 
This nature never will belie. 
What marvel if he bridged the sea? 
Why should this deed disquiet thee? 
This, only this, I surely know, 
Back with his life he shall not go." 

Thus in loud tones the king exclaimed, 
And mute stood Malyavan ashamed, 
His reverend head he humbly bent, 
And slowly to his mansion went. 
But Ravan stayed, and deep in care 
Held counsel with his nobles there, 
All entrance to secure and close, 
And guard the city from their foes. 
He bade the chief Prahasta wait, 
Commander at the eastern gate, 
To fierce Mahodar, strong and brave, 
To keep the southern gate, he gave, 
Where Mahaparsva's might should aid 
The chieftain with his hosts arrayed. 
To guard the west — no chief more fit — 
He placed the warrior Indrajit, 
His son, the giant's joy and boast, 
Surrounded by a Rakshas host: 
And mighty Saran hastened forth 
With Suka to protect the north. 945 



945 The poet appears to have forgotten that Suka and Saran were dismissed 
with ignominy in Canto XXIX, and have not been reinstated. 



1606 The Ramayana 

"I will myself," the monarch cried, 
"Be present on the northern side." 
These orders for the walls' defence 
The tyrant gave, then parted thence, 
And, by the hope of victory fired, 
To chambers far within, retired. 



Canto XXXVII. Preparations. 

Lords of the legions of the wood, 
The chieftains with Vibhishan stood, 
And, strangers in the foeman's land, 
Their hopes and fears in council scanned: 

"See, see where Lanka's towers ascend, 
Which Ravan's power and might defend, 
Which Gods, Gandharvas, fiends would fail 
To conquer, if they durst assail. 
How shall our legions pass within, 
The city of the foe to win, 
With massive walls and portals barred 
Which Ravan keeps with surest guard?" 
With anxious looks the walls they eyed: 
And sage Vibhishan thus replied: 
"These lords of mine 946 can answer: they 
Within the walls have found their way, 
The foeman's plan and order learned, 
And hither to my side returned. 
Now, Rama, let my tongue declare 



The four who fled with him. Their names are Anala, Panasa, Sampati, and 
Pramati. 



Canto XXXVII. Preparations. 1607 

How Ravan's hosts are stationed there. 

Prahasta heads, in warlike state, 

His legions at the eastern gate. 

To guard the southern portal stands 

Mahodar, girt by Rakshas bands, 

Where mighty Mahaparsva, sent 

By Ravan's hest, his aid has lent. 

Guard of the gate that fronts the west 

Is valiant Indrajit, the best 

Of warriors, Ravan's joy and pride; 

And by the youthful chieftain's side 

Are giants, armed for fierce attacks 

With sword and mace and battle-axe. 

North, where approach is dreaded most, 

The king, encompassed with a host 

Of giants trained in war, whose hands 

Wield maces, swords and lances, stands. [456] 

All these are chiefs whom Ravan chose 

As mightiest to resist his foes; 

And each a countless army 947 leads 

With elephants and cars and steeds." 

Then Rama, while his spirit burned 
For battle, words like these returned: 
"The eastern gate be Nila's care, 
Opponent of Prahasta there. 
The southern gate, with troops arrayed 
Let Angad, Bali's son, invade. 
The gate that fronts the falling sun 
Shall be by brave Hanuman won; 
Soon through its portals shall he lead 
His myriads of Vanar breed. 



947 The numbers here are comparatively moderate: ten thousand elephants, ten 
thousand chariots, twenty thousand horses and ten million giants. 



1608 The Ramayana 

The gate that fronts the north shall be 

Assailed by Lakshman and by me, 

For I myself have sworn to kill 

The tyrant who delights in ill. 

Armed with the boon which Brahma gave, 

The Gods of heaven he loves to brave, 

And through the trembling worlds he flies, 

Oppressor of the just and wise. 

Thou, Jambavan, and thou, O King 

Of Vanars, all your bravest bring, 

And with your hosts in dense array 

Straight to the centre force your way. 

But let no Vanar in the storm 

Disguise him in a human form, 

Ye chiefs who change your shapes at will, 

Retain your Vanar semblance still. 

Thus, when we battle with the foe, 

Both men and Vanars will ye know, 

In human form will seven appear; 

Myself, my brother Lakshman here; 

Vibhishan, and the four he led 

From Lanka's city when he fled." 



Thus Raghu's son the chiefs addressed: 
Then, gazing on Suvela's crest, 
Transported by the lovely sight, 
He longed to climb the mountain height. 



Canto XXXVIII. The Ascent Of Suvela. 



Canto XXXVIII. The Ascent Of Suvela. 1609 

"Come let us scale," the hero cried, 
"This hill with various metals dyed. 
This night upon the breezy crest 
Sugriva, Lakshman, I, will rest, 
With sage Vibhishan, faithful friend, 
His counsel and his lore to lend. 
From those tall peaks each eager eye 
The foeman's city shall espy, 
Who from the wood my darling stole 
And brought long anguish on my soul." 

Thus spake the lord of men, and bent 
His footsteps to the steep ascent, 
And Lakshman, true in weal and woe, 
Next followed with his shafts and bow. 
Vibhishan followed, next in place, 
The sovereign of the Vanar race, 
And hundreds of the forest kind 
Thronged with impetuous feet, behind. 
The chiefs in woods and mountains bred 
Fast followed to Suvela's head, 
And gazed on Lanka bright and fair 
As some gay city in the air. 
On glittering gates, on ramparts raised 
By giant hands, the chieftains gazed. 
They saw the mighty hosts that, skilled 
In arts of war, the city filled, 
And ramparts with new ramparts lined, 
The swarthy hosts that stood behind. 
With spirits burning for the fight 
They saw the giants from the height, 
And from a hundred throats rang out 
Defiance and the battle shout. 
Then sank the sun with dying flame, 



1610 The Ramayana 

And soft the shades of twilight came, 
And the full moon's delicious light 
Was shed upon the tranquil night. 



Canto XXXIX. Lanka. 



They slept secure: the sun arose 
And called the chieftains from repose. 
Before the wondering Vanars, gay 
With grove and garden, Lanka lay, 
Where golden buds the Champak showed, 
And bright with bloom Asoka glowed, 
And palm and Sal and many a tree 
With leaf and flower were fair to see. 
They looked on wood and lawn and glade, 
On emerald grass and dusky shade, 
Where creepers filled the air with scent, 
And luscious fruit the branches bent, 
Where bees inebriate loved to throng, 
And each sweet bird was loud in song. 
The wondering Vanars passed the bound 
That circled that enchanting ground, 
And as they came a sweet breeze through 
The odorous alleys softly blew. 
Some Vanars, at their king's behest, 
Onward to bannered Lanka pressed, 
While, startled by the strangers' tread, 
The birds and deer before them fled. 
Earth trembled at each step they took, 
And Lanka at their shouting shook. 
Bright rose before their wondering eyes 



Canto XL. Ravan Attacked. 1611 

Trikuta's peak that kissed the skies, 

And, clothed with flowers of every hue, 

Afar its golden radiance threw. 

Most fair to see the mountain's head [457] 

A hundred leagues in length was spread. 

There Ravan's town, securely placed, 

The summit of Trikuta graced. 

O'er leagues of land she stretched in pride, 

A hundred long and twenty wide. 

They saw a lofty wall enfold 

The city, built of blocks of gold, 

They saw the beams of morning fall 

On dome and fane within the wall, 

Bright with the shine that mansion gives 

Where Vishnu in his glory lives. 

White-crested like the Lord of Snows 

Before them Ravan's palace rose. 

High on a thousand pillars raised 

With gold and precious stone it blazed, 

Guarded by giant warders, crown 

And ornament of Lanka's town. 



Canto XL. Ravan Attacked. 



Still stood the son of Raghu where 
Suvela's peak rose high in air, 
And with Sugriva turned his eye 
To scan each quarter of the sky. 
There on Trikuta, nobly planned 
And built by Visvakarma's hand, 
He saw the lovely Lanka, dressed 



1612 The Ramayana 

In all her varied beauty, rest. 

High on a tower above the gate 

The tyrant stood in kingly state. 

The royal canopy displayed 

Above him lent its grateful shade, 

And servants, from the giant band, 

His cheek with jewelled chowries fanned. 

Red sandal o'er his breast was spread, 

His ornaments and robe were red: 

Thus shows a cloud of darksome hue 

With golden sunbeams flashing through. 

While Rama and the chiefs intent 

Upon the king their glances bent, 

Up sprang Sugriva from the ground 

And reached the turret at a bound. 

Unterrified the Vanar stood, 

And wroth, with wondrous hardihood, 

The king in bitter words addressed, 

And thus his scorn and hate expressed: 

"King of the giant race, in me 
The friend and slave of Rama see. 
Lord of the world, he gives me power 
To smite thee in thy fenced tower." 
While through the air his challenge rang, 
At Ravan's face the Vanar sprang. 
Snatched from his head the kingly crown 
And dashed it in his fury down. 
Straight at his foe the giant flew, 
His mighty arms about him threw. 
With strength resistless swung him round 
And dashed him panting to the ground. 
Unharmed amid the storm of blows 
Swift to his feet Sugriva rose. 



Canto XL. Ravan Attacked. 1613 

Again in furious fight they met: 

With streams of blood their limbs were wet, 

Each grasping his opponent's waist. 

Thus with their branches interlaced, 

Which, crimson with the flowers of spring, 

From side to side the breezes swing, 

In furious wrestle you may see 

The Kinsuk and the Seemal tree. 948 

They fought with fists and hands, alike 

Prepared to parry and to strike. 

Long time the doubtful combat, waged 

With matchless strength and fury, raged. 

Each fiercely struck, each guarded well, 

Till, closing, from the tower they fell, 

And, grasping each the other's throat, 

Lay for an instant in the moat. 

They rose, and each in fiercer mood 

The sanguinary strife renewed. 

Well matched in size and strength and skill 

They fought the dubious battle still. 

While sweat and blood their limbs bedewed 

They met, retreated, and pursued: 

Each stratagem and art they tried, 

Stood front to front and swerved aside. 

His hand a while the giant stayed 

And called his magic to his aid. 

But brave Sugriva, swift to know 

The guileful purpose of the foe, 

Gained with light leap the upper air, 

And breath and strength and spirit there; 

Then, joyous as for victory won, 



948 The Kinsuk, also called Palasa, is Butea Frondosa, a tree that bears beautiful 
red crescent shaped blossoms and is deservedly a favorite with poets. The 
Seemal or Salmalf is the silk cotton tree which also bears red blossoms. 



1614 The Ramayana 

Returned to Raghu's royal son. 

Canto XLI. Rama's Envoy. 

When Rama saw each bloody trace 
On King Sugriva's limbs and face, 
He cried, while, sorrowing at the view, 
His arms about his friend he threw: 
"Too venturous chieftain, kings like us 
Bring not their lives in peril thus; 
Nor, save when counsel shows the need, 
Attempt so bold, so rash a deed. 
Remember, I, Vibhishan all 
Have sorrowed fearing for thy fall. 
O do not — for us all I speak — 
These desperate adventures seek." 
"I could not," cried Sugriva, "brook 
[458] Upon the giant king to look, 

Nor challenge to the deadly strife 

The fiend who robbed thee of thy wife." 

"Now Lakshman, marshal," Rama cried, 

"Our legions where the woods are wide, 

And stand we ready to oppose 

The fury of our giant foes. 

This day our armies shall ascend 

The walls which Ravan's powers defend, 

And floods of Rakshas blood shall stain 

The streets encumbered with the slain." 

Down from the peak he came, and viewed 

The Vanars' ordered multitude. 

Each captain there for battle burned, 



Canto XLI. Rama's Envoy. 1615 

Each fiery eye to Lanka turned. 

On, where the royal brothers led 

To Lanka's walls the legions sped. 

The northern gate, where giant foes 

Swarmed round their monarch, Rama chose 

Where he in person might direct 

The battle, and his troops protect. 

What arm but his the post might keep 

Where, strong as he who sways the deep, 949 

Mid thousands armed with bow and mace, 

Stood Ravan mightiest of his race? 

The eastern gate was Nila's post, 

Where marshalled stood his Vanar host, 

And Mainda with his troops arrayed, 

And Dwivid stood to lend him aid. 

The southern gate was Angad's care, 

Who ranged his bold battalions there. 

Hanuman by the port that faced 

The setting sun his legions placed, 

And King Sugriva held the wood 

East of the gate where Ravan stood. 

On every side the myriads met, 

And Lanka's walls of close beset 

That scarce the roving gale could win 

A passage to the hosts within. 

Loud as the angry ocean's roar 

When wild waves lash the rocky shore, 

Ten thousand thousand throats upsent 

A shout that tore the firmament, 

And Lanka with each grove and brook 

And tower and wall and rampart shook. 

The giants heard, and were appalled: 



1616 The Ramayana 

Then Raghu's son to Angad called, 
And, led by kingly duty, 950 gave 
This order merciful as brave: 
"Go, Angad, Ravan's presence seek, 
And thus my words of warning speak: 
"How art thou changed and fallen now, 

Monarch of the giants, thou 
Whose impious fury would not spare 
Saint, nymph, or spirit of the air; 
Whose foot in haughty triumph trod 
On Yaksha, king, and Serpent God: 
How art thou fallen from thy pride 
Which Brahma's favour fortified! 
With myriads at thy Lanka's gate 

1 stand my righteous ire to sate, 

And punish thee with sword and flame, 
The tyrant fiend who stole my dame. 
Now show the might, employ the guile, 
O Monarch of the giants' isle, 
Which stole a helpless dame away: 
Call up thy power and strength to-day. 
Once more I warn thee, Rakshas King, 
This hour the Maithil lady bring, 
And, yielding while there yet is time, 
Seek, suppliant, pardon for the crime, 
Or I will leave beneath the sun 
No living Rakshas, no, not one. 
In vain from battle wilt thou fly, 
Or borne on pinions seek the sky; 
The hand of Rama shall not spare; 
His fiery shaft shall smite thee there.' " 



The duty of a king to save the lives of his people and avoid bloodshed until 
milder methods have been tried in vain. 



Canto XLI. Rama's Envoy. 1617 

He ceased: and Angad bowed his head; 
Thence like embodied flame he sped, 
And lighted from his airy road 
Within the Rakshas king's abode. 
There sate, the centre of a ring 
Of counsellors, the giant king. 
Swift through the circle Angad pressed, 
And spoke with fury in his breast: 
"Sent by the lord of Kosal's land, 
His envoy here, O King, I stand, 
Angad the son of Bali: fame 
Has haply taught thine ears my name. 
Thus in the words of Rama I 
Am come to warn thee or defy: 
Come forth, and fighting in the van 
Display the spirit of a man. 
This arm shall slay thee, tyrant: all 
Thy nobles, kith and kin shall fall: 
And earth and heaven, from terror freed, 
Shall joy to see the oppressor bleed. 
Vibhishan, when his foe is slain, 
Anointed king in peace shall reign. 
Once more I counsel thee: repent, 
Avoid the mortal punishment, 
With honour due the dame restore, 
And pardon for thy sin implore." 

Loud rose the king's infuriate cry: 
"Seize, seize the Vanar, let him die." 
Four of his band their lord obeyed, 
And eager hands on Angad laid. 
He purposing his strength to show 
Gave no resistance to the foe, 
But swiftly round his captors cast 



1618 The Ramayana 

His mighty arms and held them fast. 
Fierce shout and cry around him rang: 
Light to the palace roof he sprang, 
There his detaining arms unwound, 
And hurled the giants to the ground. 
Then, smiting with a fearful stroke, 
A turret from the roof he broke, — 
[459] As when the fiery levin sent 

By Indra from the clouds has rent 
The proud peak of the Lord of Snow, — 
And flung the stony mass below. 
Again with loud terrific cry 
He sprang exulting to the sky, 
And, joyous for his errand done, 
Stood by the side of Raghu's son. 



Canto XLII. The Sally. 

Still was the cry, "The Vanar foes 

Around the leaguered city close." 

King Ravan from the terrace gazed 

And saw, with eyes where fury blazed, 

The Vanar host in serried ranks 

Press to the moat and line the banks, 

And, first in splendour and in place, 

The lion lord of Raghu's race. 

And Rama looked on Lanka where 

Gay flags were streaming to the air, 

And, while keen sorrow pierced him through, 

His loving thoughts to Sita flew: 

"There, there in deep affliction lies 



Canto XLII. The Sally. 1619 

My darling with the fawn-like eyes. 

There on the cold bare ground she keeps 

Sad vigil and for Rama weeps." 

Mad with the thought, "Charge, charge," he cried. 

"Let earth with Rakshas blood be dyed." 

Responsive to his call rang out 
A loud, a universal shout, 
As myriads filled the moat with stone, 
Trees, rocks, and mountains overthrown, 
And charging at their leader's call 
Pressed forward furious to the wall. 
Some in their headlong ardour scaled 
The rampart's height, the guard assailed, 
And many a ponderous fragment rent 
From portal, tower, and battlement. 
Huge gates adorned with burnished gold 
Were loosed and lifted from their hold; 
And post and pillar, with a sound 
Like thunder, fell upon the ground. 
At every portal, east and west 
And north and south, the chieftains pressed 
Each in his post appointed led 
His myriads in the forest bred. 

"Charge, let the gates be opened wide: 
Charge, charge, my giants," Ravan cried. 
They heard his voice, and loud and long 
Rang the wild clamour of the throng, 
And shell and drum their notes upsent, 
And every martial instrument. 
Forth, at the bidding of their lord 
From every gate the giants poured, 
As, when the waters rise and swell, 



1620 The Ramayana 

Huge waves preceding waves impel. 

Again from every Vanar throat 

A scream of fierce defiance smote 

The welkin: earth and sea and sky 

Reechoed with the awful cry. 

The roar of elephants, the neigh 

Of horses eager for the fray. 

The frequent clash of warriors' steel, 

The rattling of the chariot wheel. 

Fierce was the deadly fight: opposed 

In terrible array they closed, 

As when the Gods of heaven enraged 

With rebel fiends wild battle waged. 

Axe, spear, and mace were wielded well: 

At every blow a Vanar fell. 

But shivered rock and brandished tree 

Brought many a giant on his knee, 

To perish in his turn beneath 

The deadly wounds of nails and teeth. 



Canto XLIII. The Single Combats. 



Brave chiefs of each opposing side 
Their strength in single combat tried. 
Fierce Indrajit the fight began 
With Angad in the battle's van. 
Sampati, strongest of his race, 
Stood with Prajangha face to face. 
Hanuman, Jambumali met 
In mortal opposition set. 
Vibhishan, brother of the lord 



Canto XLIII. The Single Combats. 1621 

Of Lanka, raised his threatening sword 

And singled out, with eyes aglow 

With wrath, Satrughna for his foe. 

The mighty Gaja Tapan sought, 

And Nfla with Nikumbha fought. 

Sugriva, Vanar king, defied 

Fierce Praghas long in battle tried, 

And Lakshman fearless in the fight 

Encountered Virupaksha's might. 

To meet the royal Rama came 

Wild Agniketu fierce as flame; 

Mitraghana, he who loved to strike 

His foeman and his friend alike: 

With Rasmiketu, known and feared 

Where'er his ponderous flag was reared; 

And Yajnakopa whose delight 

Was ruin of the sacred rite. 

These met and fought, with thousands more, 

And trampled earth was red with gore. 

Swift as the bolt which Indra sends 

When fire from heaven the mountain rends 

Smote Indrajit with furious blows 

On Angad queller of his foes. 

But Angad from his foeman tore 

The murderous mace the warrior bore, [460] 

And low in dust his coursers rolled, 

His driver, and his car of gold. 

Struck by the shafts Prajangha sped, 

The Vanar chief Sampati bled, 

But, heedless of his gashes he 

Crushed down the giant with a tree. 

Then car-borne Jambumali smote 

Hanuman on the chest and throat; 

But at the car the Vanar rushed, 



1622 The Ramayana 

And chariot, steeds, and rider crushed. 
Sugriva whirled a huge tree round, 
And struck fierce Praghas to the ground. 
One arrow shot from Lakshman's bow 
Laid mighty VTrupaksha low. 
His giant foes round Rama pressed 
And shot their shafts at head and breast; 
But, when the iron shower was spent, 
Four arrows from his bow he sent, 
And every missile, deftly sped; 
Cleft from the trunk a giant head. 951 



Canto XLIV. The Night. 



The lord of Light had sunk and set: 
Night came; the foeman struggled yet; 
And fiercer for the gloom of night 
Grew the wild fury of the fight. 
Scarce could each warrior's eager eye 
The foeman from the friend descry. 
"Rakshas or Vanar? say;" cried each, 
And foe knew foeman by his speech. 
"Why wilt thou fly? O warrior, stay: 
Turn on the foe, and rend and slay:" 
Such were the cries, such words of fear 
Smote through the gloom each listening ear. 
Each swarthy rover of the night 
Whose golden armour flashed with light, 



951 I have omitted several of these single combats, as there is little variety in 
the details and each duel results in the victory of the Vanar or his ally. 



Canto XLIV. The Night. 1623 

Showed like a towering hill embraced 

By burning woods about his waist. 

The giants at the Vanars flew, 

And ravening ate the foes they slew: 

With mortal bite like serpent's fang, 

The Vanars at the giants sprang, 

And car and steeds and they who bore 

The pennons fell bedewed with gore. 

No serried band, no firm array 

The fury of their charge could stay. 

Down went the horse and rider, down 

Went giant lords of high renown. 

Though midnight's shade was dense and dark, 

With skill that swerved not from the mark 

Their bows the sons of Raghu drew, 

And each keen shaft a chieftain slew. 

Uprose the blinding dust from meads 

Ploughed by the cars and trampling steeds, 

And where the warriors fell the flood 

Was dark and terrible with blood. 

Six giants 952 singled Rama out, 

And charged him with a furious shout 

Loud as the roaring of the sea 

When every wind is raging free. 

Six times he shot: six heads were cleft; 

Six giants dead on earth were left. 

Nor ceased he yet: his bow he strained, 

And from the sounding weapon rained 

A storm of shafts whose fiery glare 

Filled all the region of the air; 

And chieftains dropped before his aim 

Like moths that perish in the flame. 



952 Yajnasatru, Mahaparsva, Mahodar, Vajradanshtra, Suka, and Saran. 



1624 The Ramayana 

Earth glistened where the arrows fell, 
As shines in autumn nights a dell 
Which fireflies, flashing through the gloom, 
With momentary light illume. 



But Indrajit, when Bali's son 953 
The victory o'er the foe had won, 
Saw with a fury-kindled eye 
His mangled steeds and driver die; 
Then, lost in air, he fled the fight, 
And vanished from the victor's sight. 
The Gods and saints glad voices raised, 
And Angad for his virtue praised; 
And Raghu's sons bestowed the meed 
Of honour due to valorous deed. 



Compelled his shattered car to quit, 
Rage filled the soul of Indrajit, 
Who brooked not, strong by Brahma's grace 
Defeat from one of Vanar race. 
In magic mist concealed from view 
His bow the treacherous warrior drew, 
And Raghu's sons were first to feel 
The tempest of his winged steel. 
Then when his arrows failed to kill 
The princes who defied him still, 
He bound them with the serpent noose, 954 
The magic bond which none might loose. 



953 Angad. 

954 A mysterious weapon consisting of serpents transformed to arrows which 
deprived the wounded object of all sense and power of motion. 



Canto XLV. Indrajit's Victory. 1625 

Canto XLV. Indrajit's Victory. 



Brave Rama, burning still to know 

The station of his artful foe, [461] 

Gave to ten chieftains, mid the best 

Of all the host, his high behest. 

Swift rose in air the Vanar band: 

Each region of the sky they scanned: 

But Ravan's son by magic skill 

Checked them with arrows swifter still, 

When streams of blood from chest and side 

The dauntless Vanars' limbs had dyed, 

The giant in his misty shroud 

Showed like the sun obscured by cloud. 

Like serpents hissing through the air, 

His arrows smote the princely pair; 

And from their limbs at every rent 

A stream of rushing blood was sent. 

Like Kinsuk trees they stood, that show 

In spring their blossoms' crimson glow. 

Then Indrajit with fury eyed 

Ikshvaku's royal sons, and cried: 



"Not mighty Indra can assail 
Or see me when I choose to veil 
My form in battle: and can ye, 
Children of earth, contend with me? 
The arrowy noose this hand has shot 
Has bound you with a hopeless knot; 
And, slaughtered by my shafts and bow, 
To Yama's hall this hour ye go." 



1626 The Ramayana 

He spoke, and shouted. Then anew 
The arrows from his bowstring flew, 
And pierced, well aimed with perfect art, 
Each limb and joint and vital part. 
Transfixed with shafts in every limb, 
Their strength relaxed, their eyes grew dim. 
As two tall standards side by side, 
With each sustaining rope untied, 
Fall levelled by the howling blast, 
So earth's majestic lords at last 
Beneath the arrowy tempest reeled, 
And prostrate pressed the battle field. 



Canto XLVI. Indrajit's Triumph. 

The Vanar chiefs whose piercing eyes 
Scanned eagerly the earth and skies, 
Saw the brave brothers wounded sore 
Transfixed with darts and stained with gore. 
The monarch of the Vanar race, 
With wise Vibhishan, reached the place; 
Angad and Nila came behind, 
And others of the forest kind, 
And standing with Hanuman there 
Lamented for the fallen pair. 
Their melancholy eyes they raised; 
In fruitless search a while they gazed. 
But magic arts Vibhishan knew; 
Not hidden from his keener view, 
Though veiled by magic from the rest, 
The son of Ravan stood confessed. 



Canto XLVI. Indrajit's Triumph. 1627 

Fierce Indrajit with savage pride 
The fallen sons of Raghu eyed, 
And every giant heart was proud 
As thus the warrior cried aloud: 

"Slain by mine arrows Rama lies, 
And closed in death are Lakshman's eyes. 
Dead are the mighty princes who 
Dushan and Khara smote and slew. 
The Gods and fiends may toil in vain 
To free them from the binding chain. 
The haughty chief, my father's dread, 
Who drove him sleepless from his bed, 
While Lanka, troubled like a brook 
In rain time, heard his name and shook: 
He whose fierce hate our lives pursued 
Lies helpless by my shafts subdued. 
Now fruitless is each wondrous deed 
Wrought by the race the forests breed, 
And fruitless every toil at last 
Like cloudlets when the rains are past." 
Then rose the shout of giants loud 
As thunder from a bursting cloud, 
When, deeming Rama, dead, they raised 
Their voices and the conqueror praised. 

Still motionless, as lie the slain, 
The brothers pressed the bloody plain, 
No sigh they drew, no breath they heaved, 
And lay as though of life bereaved. 
Proud of the deed his art had done, 
To Lanka's town went Ravan's son, 
Where, as he passed, all fear was stilled, 
And every heart with triumph filled. 



1628 The Ramayana 

Sugriva trembled as he viewed 

Each fallen prince with blood bedewed, 

And in his eyes which overflowed 

With tears the flame of anger glowed. 

"Calm," cried Vibhishan, "calm thy fears, 

And stay the torrent of thy tears. 

Still must the chance of battle change, 

And victory still delight to range. 

Our cause again will she befriend 

And bring us triumph in the end. 

This is not death: each prince will break 

The spell that holds him, and awake; 

Nor long shall numbing magic bind 

The mighty arm, the lofty mind." 

He ceased: his finger bathed in dew 
Across Sugriva's eyes he drew; 
From dulling mist his vision freed, 
And spoke these words to suit the need: 
"No time is this for fear: away 
With fainting heart and weak delay. 
Now, e'en the tear which sorrow wrings 
From loving eyes destruction brings. 
Up, on to battle at the head 
Of those brave troops which Rama led. 
Or guardian by his side remain 
Till sense and strength the prince regain. 
Soon shall the trance-bound pair revive, 
And from our hearts all sorrow drive. 
[462] Though prostrate on the earth he lie, 

Deem not that Rama's death is nigh; 
Deem not that Lakshmi will forget 
Or leave her darling champion yet. 
Rest here and be thy heart consoled; 



Canto XLVII. SM. 1629 

Ponder my words, be firm and bold. 
I, foremost in the battlefield, 
Will rally all who faint or yield. 
Their staring eyes betray their fear; 
They whisper each in other's ear. 
They, when they hear my cheering cry 
And see the friend of Rama nigh, 
Will cast their gloom and fears away 
Like faded wreaths of yesterday." 



Thus calmed he King Sugriva's dread; 
Then gave new heart to those who fled. 
Fierce Indrajit, his soul on fire 
With pride of conquest, sought his sire, 
Raised reverent hands, and told him all, 
The battle and the princes' fall. 
Rejoicing at his foes' defeat 
Upsprang the monarch from his seat, 
Girt by his giant courtiers: round 
His warrior son his arms he wound, 
Close kisses on his head applied, 
And heard again how Rama died. 



Canto XLVII. SM. 



1630 The Ramayana 

Still on the ground where Rama slept 
Their faithful watch the Vanars kept. 
There Angad stood o'erwhelmed with grief 
And many a lord and warrior chief; 
And, ranged in densest mass around, 
Their tree-armed legions held the ground. 
Far ranged each Vanar's eager eye, 
Now swept the land, now sought the sky, 
All fearing, if a leaf was stirred, 
A Rakshas in the sound they heard. 
The lord of Lanka in his hall, 
Rejoicing at his foeman's fall, 
Commanded and the warders came 
Who ever watched the Maithil dame. 
"Go," cried the Rakshas king, "relate 
To Janak's child her husband's fate. 
Low on the earth her Rama lies, 
And dark in death are Lakshman's eyes. 
Bring forth my car and let her ride 
To view the chieftains side by side. 
The lord to whom her fancy turned 
For whose dear sake my love she spurned, 
Lies smitten, as he fiercely led 
The battle, with his brother dead. 
Lead forth the royal lady: go 
Her husband's lifeless body show. 
Then from all doubt and terror free 
Her softening heart will turn to me." 

They heard his speech: the car was brought; 
That shady grove the warders sought 
Where, mourning Rama night and day, 
The melancholy lady lay. 
They placed her in the car and through 



Canto XLVIII. Sita's Lament. 163 1 

The yielding air they swiftly flew. 

The lady looked upon the plain, 

Looked on the heaps of Vanar slain, 

Saw where, triumphant in the fight, 

Thronged the fierce rovers of the night, 

And Vanar chieftains, mournful-eyed, 

Watched by the fallen brothers' side. 

There stretched upon his gory bed 

Each brother lay as lie the dead, 

With shattered mail and splintered bow 

Pierced by the arrows of the foe. 

When on the pair her eyes she bent, 

Burst from her lips a wild lament 

Her eyes o'erflowed, she groaned and sighed 

And thus in trembling accents cried: 



Canto XLVIII. Sita's Lament. 



"False are they all, proved false to-day, 
The prophets of my fortune, they 
Who in the tranquil time of old 
A blessed life for me foretold, 
Predicting I should never know 
A childless dame's, a widow's woe, 
False are they all, their words are vain, 
For thou, my lord and life, art slain. 
False was the priest and vain his lore 
Who blessed me in those days of yore 
By Rama's side in bliss to reign: 
For thou, my lord and life, art slain. 
They hailed me happy from my birth, 



1632 The Ramayana 

Proud empress of the lord of earth. 
They blessed me — but the thought is pain — 
For thou, my lord and life, art slain. 
Ah, fruitless hope! each glorious sign 
That stamps the future queen is mine, 
With no ill-omened mark to show 
A widow's crushing hour of woe. 
They say my hair is black and fine, 
They praise my brows' continuous line; 
My even teeth divided well, 
My bosom for its graceful swell. 
They praise my feet and fingers oft; 
They say my skin is smooth and soft, 
And call me happy to possess 
The twelve fair marks that bring success. 955 
But ah, what profit shall I gain? 
Thou, O my lord and life, art slain. 
The flattering seer in former days 
[463] My gentle girlish smile would praise, 

And swear that holy water shed 
By Brahman hands upon my head 
Should make me queen, a monarch's bride: 
How is the promise verified? 
Matchless in might the brothers slew 
In Janasthan the giant crew. 
And forced the indomitable sea 
To let them pass to rescue me. 
Theirs was the fiery weapon hurled 
By him who rules the watery world; 956 
Theirs the dire shaft by Indra sped; 
Theirs was the mystic Brahma's Head. 957 



955 On each foot, and at the root of each finger. 

956 Varan. 

957 The name of one of the mystical weapons the command over which was 



Canto XLVIII. Sita's Lament. 1633 

In vain they fought, the bold and brave: 
A coward's hand their death-wounds gave. 
By secret shafts and magic spell 
The brothers, peers of Indra, fell. 
That foe, if seen by Rama's eye 
One moment, had not lived to fly. 
Though swift as thought, his utmost speed 
Had failed him in the hour of need. 
No might, no tear, no prayer may stay 
Fate's dark inevitable day. 
Nor could their matchless valour shield 
These heroes on the battle field. 
I sorrow for the noble dead, 
I mourn my hopes for ever fled; 
But chief my weeping eyes o'erflow 
For Queen Kausalya's hopeless woe. 
The widowed queen is counting now 
Each hour prescribed by Rama's vow, 
And lives because she longs to see 
Once more her princely sons and me." 

Then Trijata, 958 of gentler mould 
Though Rakshas born, her grief consoled: 
"Dear Queen, thy causeless woe dispel: 
Thy husband lives, and all is well. 
Look round: in every Vanar face 
The light of joyful hope I trace. 
Not thus, believe me, shine the eyes 
Of warriors when their leader dies. 
An Army, when the chief is dead, 
Flies from the field dispirited. 
Here, undisturbed in firm array, 



given by Visvamitra to Rama, as related in Book I. 
58 One of Sita's guard, and her comforter on a former occasion also. 



1634 The Ramayana 

The Vanars by the brothers stay. 
Love prompts my speech; no longer grieve; 
Ponder my counsel, and believe. 
These lips of mine from earliest youth 
Have spoken, and shall speak, the truth. 
Deep in my heart thy gentle grace 
And patient virtues hold their place. 
Turn, lady, turn once more thine eye: 
Though pierced with shafts the heroes lie, 
On brows and cheeks with blood-drops wet 
The light of beauty lingers yet. 
Such beauty ne'er is found in death, 
But vanishes with parting breath. 
O, trust the hope these tokens give: 
The heroes are not dead, but live." 



Then Sita joined her hands, and sighed, 
"O, may thy words be verified!" 
The car was turned, which fleet as thought 
The mourning queen to Lanka brought. 
They led her to the garden, where 
Again she yielded to despair, 
Lamenting for the chiefs who bled 
On earth's cold bosom with the dead. 



Canto XLIX. Rama's Lament. 



Canto XLIX. Rama's Lament. 1635 

Ranged round the spot where Rama fell 

Each Vanar chief stood sentinel. 

At length the mighty hero broke 

The trance that held him, and awoke. 

He saw his senseless brother, dyed 

With blood from head to foot, and cried: 

"What have I now to do with life 

Or rescue of my prisoned wife, 

When thus before my weeping eyes, 

Slain in the fight, my brother lies? 

A queen like Sita I may find 

Among the best of womankind, 

But never such a brother, tried 

In war, my guardian, friend, and guide. 

If he be dead, the brave and true, 

I will not live but perish too. 

How, reft of Lakshman, shall I meet 

My mother, and Kaikeyi greet? 

My brother's eager question brook, 

And fond Sumitra's longing look? 

What shall I say, o'erwhelmed with shame 

To cheer the miserable dame? 

How, when she hears her son is dead, 

Will her sad heart be comforted? 

Ah me, for longer life unfit 

This mortal body will I quit; 

For Lakshman slaughtered for my sake, 

From sleep of death will never wake. 

Ah when I sank oppressed with care, 

Thy gentle voice could soothe despair. 

And art thou, O my brother, killed? 

Is that dear voice for ever stilled? 

Cold are those lips, my brother, whence 

Came never word to breed offence? 



1636 The Ramayana 

Ah stretched upon the gory plain 
My brother lies untimely slain: 
Numbed is the mighty arm that slew 
The leaders of the giant crew. 
Transfixed with shafts, with blood-streams red, 
[464] Thou liest on thy lowly bed: 

So sinks to rest, his journey done, 

Mid arrowy rays the crimson sun. 

Thou, when from home and sire I fled, 

The wood's wild ways with me wouldst tread: 

Now close to thine my steps shall be, 

For I in death will follow thee. 

Vibhishan now will curse my name, 

And Rama as a braggart blame, 

Who promised — but his word is vain — 

That he in Lanka's isle should reign. 

Return, Sugriva: reft of me 

Lead back thy Vanars o'er the sea, 

Nor hope to battle face to face 

With him who rules the giant race. 

Well have ye done and nobly fought, 

And death in desperate combat sought. 

All that heroic might can do, 

Brave Vanars, has been done by you. 

My faithful friends I now dismiss: 

Return: my last farewell is this." 

Bedewed with tears was every cheek 
As thus the Vanars heard him speak. 
Vibhishan on the field had stayed 
The Vanar hosts who fled dismayed. 
Now lifting up his mace on high 
With martial step the chief drew nigh. 
The hosts who watched by Rama's side 



Canto L. The Broken Spell. 1637 

Beheld his shape and giant stride. 
Tis he, 'tis Ravan's son, they thought: 
And all in flight their safety sought. 



Canto L. The Broken Spell. 



Sugriva viewed the flying crowd, 
And thus to Angad cried aloud: 
"Why run the trembling hosts, as flee 
Storm-scattered barks across the sea?" 
"Dost thou not mark," the chief replied, 
"Transfixed with shafts, with bloodstreams dyed, 
With arrowy toils about them wound, 
The sons of Raghu on the ground?" 

That moment brought Vibhishan near. 
Sugriva knew the cause of fear, 
And ordered Jambavan, who led 
The bears, to check the hosts that fled. 
The king of bears his hest obeyed: 
The Vanars' headlong flight was stayed. 
A little while Vibhishan eyed 
The brothers fallen side by side. 
His giant fingers wet with dew 
Across the heroes' eyes he drew, 
Still on the pair his sad look bent, 
And spoke these word in wild lament: 
"Ah for the mighty chiefs brought low 
By coward hand and stealthy blow! 
Brave pair who loved the open fight, 
Slain by that rover of the night. 



1638 The Ramayana 

Dishonest is the victory won 
By Indrajit my brother's son. 
I on their might for aid relied, 
And in my cause they fought and died. 
Lost is the hope that soothed each pain: 
I live, but live no more to reign, 
While Lanka's lord, untouched by ill, 
Exults in safe defiance still." 



"Not thus," Sugriva said, "repine, 
For Lanka's isle shall still be thine. 
Nor let the tyrant and his son 
Exult before the fight be done. 
These royal chiefs, though now dismayed, 
Freed from the spell by Garud's aid, 
Triumphant yet the foe shall meet 
And lay the robber at their feet." 



His hope the Vanar monarch told, 
And thus Vibhishan's grief consoled. 
Then to Sushen who at his side 
Expectant stood, Sugriva cried: 
"When these regain their strength and sense, 
Fly, bear them to Kishkindha hence. 
Here with my legions will I stay, 
The tyrant and his kinsmen slay, 
And, rescued from the giant king, 
The Maithil lady will I bring, 
Like Glory lost of old, restored 
By Sakra, heaven's almighty lord." 



Canto L. The Broken Spell. 1639 

Sushen made answer: "Hear me yet: 
When Gods and fiends in battle met, 
So fiercely fought the demon crew, 
So wild a storm of arrows flew, 
That heavenly warriors faint with pain, 
Sank smitten by the ceaseless rain. 
Vrihaspati, 959 with herb and spell, 
Cured the sore wounds of those who fell. 
And, skilled in arts that heal and save, 
New life and sense and vigour gave. 
Far, on the Milky Ocean's shore, 
Still grow those herbs in boundless store; 
Let swiftest Vanars thither speed 
And bring them for our utmost need. 
Those herbs that on the mountain spring 
Let Panas and Sampati bring, 
For well the wondrous leaves they know, 
That heal each wound and life bestow. 
Beside that sea which, churned of yore, 
The amrit on its surface bore, 
Where the white billows lash the land, 
Chandra's fair height and Drona stand. 
Planted by Gods each glittering steep 
Looks down upon the milky deep. 
Let fleet Hanuman bring us thence 
Those herbs of wondrous influence." 



Meanwhile the rushing wind grew loud, 
Red lightnings flashed from banks of cloud. 
The mountains shook, the wild waves rose, 
And smitten with resistless blows [465] 



959 The preceptor of the Gods. 



1640 The Ramayana 

Unrooted fell each stately tree 
That fringed the margin of the sea. 
All life within the waters feared 
Then, as the Vanars gazed, appeared 
King Garud's self, a wondrous sight, 
Disclosed in flames of fiery light. 
From his fierce eye in sudden dread 
All serpents in a moment fled. 
And those transformed to shaft that bound 
The princes vanished in the ground. 
On Raghu's sons his eyes he bent, 
And hailed the lords armipotent. 
Then o'er them stooped the feathered king, 
And touched their faces with his wing. 
His healing touch their pangs allayed, 
And closed each rent the shafts had made. 
Again their eyes were bright and bold, 
Again the smooth skin shone like gold. 
Again within their shell enshrined 
Came memory and each power of mind: 
And, from those numbing bonds released, 
Their spirit, zeal, and strength increased. 
Firm on their feet they stood, and then 
Thus Rama spake, the lord of men: 

"By thy dear grace in sorest need 
From deadly bonds we both are freed. 
To these glad eyes as welcome now 
As Aja or my sire art thou. 
Who art thou, mighty being? say, 
Thus glorious in thy bright array." 
He ceased: the king of birds replied, 
While flashed his eye with joy and pride: 



960 Rama's grandfather. 



Canto LI. Dhumraksha's Sally. 1641 

"In me, Raghu's son, behold 
One who has loved thee from of old: 
Garud, the lord of all that fly, 
Thy guardian and thy friend am I. 
Not all the Gods in heaven could loose 
These numbing bonds, this serpent noose, 
Wherewith fierce Ravan's son, renowned 
For magic arts, your limbs had bound. 
Those arrows fixed in every limb 
Were mighty snakes, transformed by him. 
Blood thirsty race, they live beneath 
The earth, and slay with venomed teeth. 
On, smite the lord of Lanka's isle, 
But guard you from the giants' guile 
Who each dishonest art employ 
And by deceit brave foes destroy. 
So shall the tyrant Ravan bleed, 
And Sita from his power be freed." 
Thus Garud spake: then, swift as thought, 
The region of the sky he sought, 
Where in the distance like a blaze 
Of fire he vanished from the gaze. 



Then the glad Vanars' joy rang out 
In many a wild tumultuous shout, 
And the loud roar of drum and shell 
Startled each distant sentinel. 



Canto LI. Dhumraksha's Sally. 



1642 The Ramayana 

King Ravan, where he sat within, 
Heard from his hall the deafening din, 
And with a spirit ill at ease 
Addressed his lords in words like these: 



"That warlike shout, those joyous cries, 
Loud as the thunder of the skies, 
Upsent from every Vanar throat, 
Some new-born confidence denote. 
Hark, how the sea and trembling shore 
Re-echo with the Vanars' roar. 
Though arrowy chains, securely twined 
Both Rama and his brother bind, 
Still must the fierce triumphant shout 
Disturb my soul with rising doubt. 
Swift envoys to the army send, 
And learn what change these cries portend." 



Obedient, at their master's call, 
Fleet giants clomb the circling wall. 
They saw the Vanars formed and led: 
They saw Sugriva at their head, 
The brothers from their bonds released: 
And hope grew faint and fear increased. 
Their faces pale with doubt and dread, 
Back to the giant king they sped, 
And to his startled ear revealed 
The tidings of the battle field. 



The flush of rage a while gave place 
To chilling fear that changed his face: 



Canto LII. Dhumraksha's Death. 1643 

"What?" cried the tyrant, "are my foes 
Freed from the binding snakes that close 
With venomed clasp round head and limb, 
Bright as the sun and fierce like him: 
The spell a God bestowed of yore, 
The spell that never failed before? 
If arts like these be useless, how 
Shall giant strength avail us now? 
Go forth, Dhumraksha, good at need, 
The bravest of my warriors lead: 
Force through the foe thy conquering way, 
And Rama and the Vanars slay." 



Before his king with reverence due 
Dhumraksha bowed him, and withdrew. 
Around him at his summons came 
Fierce legions led by chiefs of fame. 
Well armed with sword and spear and mace, 
They hurried to the gathering place, 
And rushed to battle, borne at speed 
By elephant and car and steed. 



Canto LII. Dhumraksha's Death. 



The Vanars saw the giant foe 

Pour from the gate in gallant show, [466] 



1644 The Ramayana 

Rejoiced with warriors' fierce delight 

And shouted, longing for the fight. 

Near came the hosts and nearer yet: 

Dire was the tumult as they met, 

As, serried line to line opposed, 

The Vanars and the giants closed. 

Fierce on the foe the Vanars rushed, 

And, wielding trees, the foremost crushed; 

But, feathered from the heron's wing, 

With eager flight from sounding string, 

Against them shot with surest aim 

A ceaseless storm of arrows came: 

And, pierced in head and chest and side, 

Full many a Vanar fell and died. 

They perished slain in fierce attacks 

With sword and pike and battle-axe; 

But myriads following undismayed 

Their valour in the fight displayed. 

Unnumbered Vanars rent and torn 

With shaft and spear to earth were borne. 

But crushed by branchy trees and blocks 

Of jagged stone and shivered rocks 

Which the wild Vanars wielded well 

The bravest of the giants fell. 

Their trampled banners strewed the fields, 

And broken swords and spears and shields; 

And, crushed by blows which none might stay, 

Cars, elephants, and riders lay. 

Dhumraksha turned his furious eye 

And saw his routed legions fly. 

Still dauntless, with terrific blows, 

He struck and slew his foremost foes. 

At every blow, at every thrust, 

He laid a Vanar in the dust. 



Canto LII. Dhumraksha's Death. 1645 

So fell they neath the sword and lance 

In battle's wild Gandharva 961 dance, 

Where clang of bow and clash of sword 

Did duty for the silvery chord, 

And hoofs that rang and steeds that neighed 

Loud concert for the dancers made. 

So fiercely from Dhumraksha's bow 

His arrows rained in ceaseless flow, 

The Vanar legions turned and fled 

To all the winds discomfited. 

Hanuman saw the Vanars fly; 

He heaved a mighty rock on high. 

His keen eyes flashed with wrathful fire, 

And, rapid as the Wind his sire, 

Strong as the rushing tempests are, 

He hurled it at the advancing car. 

Swift through the air the missile sang: 

The giant from the chariot sprang, 

Ere crushed by that terrific blow 

Lay pole and wheel and flag and bow. 

Hanuman's eyes with fury blazed: 

A mountain's rocky peak he raised, 

Poised it on high in act to throw, 

And rushed upon his giant foe. 

Dhumraksha saw: he raised his mace 

And smote Hanuman on the face, 

Who maddened by the wound's keen pang 

Again upon his foeman sprang; 

And on the giant's head the rock 

Descended with resistless shock. 

Crushed was each limb: a shapeless mass 

He lay upon the blood-stained grass. 



1646 The Ramayana 

Canto LIII. Vajradanshtra's Sally. 

When Ravan in his palace heard 

The mournful news, his wrath was stirred; 

And, gasping like a furious snake, 

To Vajradanshtra thus he spake: 

"Go forth, my fiercest captain, lead 
The bravest of the giants' breed. 
Go forth, the sons of Raghu slay 
And by their side Sugriva lay." 

He ceased: the chieftain bowed his head 
And forth with gathered troops he sped. 
Cars, camels, steeds were well arrayed, 
And coloured banners o'er them played. 
Rings decked his arms: about his waist 
The life-protecting mail was braced, 
And on the chieftain's forehead set 
Glittered his cap and coronet. 
Borne on a bannered car that glowed 
With golden sheen the warrior rode, 
And footmen marched with spear and sword 
And bow and mace behind their lord. 
In pomp and pride of warlike state 
They sallied from the southern gate, 
But saw, as on their way they sped, 
Dread signs around and overhead. 
For there were meteors falling fast, 
Though not a cloud its shadow cast; 
And each ill-omened bird and beast, 
Forboding death, the fear increased, 
While many a giant slipped and reeled, 
Falling before he reached the field. 



Canto LIV. Vajradanshtra's Death. 1647 

They met in mortal strife engaged, 

And long and fierce the battle raged. 

Spears, swords uplifted, gleamed and flashed, 

And many a chief to earth was dashed. 

A ceaseless storm of arrows rained, 

And limbs were pierced and blood-distained. 

Terrific was the sound that filled 

The air, and every heart was chilled, 

As hurtling o'er the giants flew 

The rocks and trees which Vanars threw. 

Fierce as a hungry lion when 

Unwary deer approach his den, [467] 

Angad, his eyes with fury red, 

Waving a tree above his head, 

Rushed with wild charge which none could stay 

Where stood the giants' dense array. 

Like tall trees levelled by the blast 

Before him fell the giants fast, 

And earth that streamed with blood was strown 

With warriors, steeds, and cars o'erthrown. 



Canto LIV. Vajradanshtra's Death. 

The giant leader fiercely rained 
His arrows and the fight maintained. 
Each time the clanging cord he drew 
His certain shaft a Vanar slew. 
Then, as the creatures he has made 
Fly to the Lord of Life for aid, 
To Angad for protection fled 
The Vanar hosts dispirited. 



1648 The Ramayana 

Then raged the battle fiercer yet 
When Angad and the giant met. 
A hundred thousand arrows, hot 
With flames of fire, the giant shot; 
And every shaft he deftly sent 
His foeman's body pierced and rent. 
From Angad's limbs ran floods of gore: 
A stately tree from earth he tore, 
Which, maddened as his gashes bled, 
He hurled at his opponent's head. 
His bow the dauntless giant drew; 
To meet the tree swift arrows flew, 
Checked the huge missile's onward way, 
And harmless on the earth it lay. 
A while the Vanar chieftain gazed, 
Then from the earth a rock he raised 
Rent from a thunder-splitten height, 
And cast it with resistless might. 
The giant marked, and, mace in hand, 
Leapt from his chariot to the sand, 
Ere the rough mass descending broke 
The seat, the wheel, the pole and yoke. 

Then Angad seized a shattered hill, 
Whereon the trees were flowering still, 
And with full force the jagged peak 
Fell crashing on the giant's cheek. 
He staggered, reeled, and fell: the blood 
Gushed from the giant in a flood. 
Reft of his might, each sense astray, 
A while upon the sand he lay. 
But strength and wandering sense returned 
Again his eyes with fury burned, 
And with his mace upraised on high 



Canto LIV. Vajradanshtra's Death. 1649 

He wounded Angad on the thigh. 
Then from his hand his mace he threw, 
And closer to his foeman drew. 
Then with their fists they fought, and smote 
On brow and cheek and chest and throat. 
Worn out with toil, their limbs bedewed, 
With blood, the strife they still renewed, 
Like Mercury and fiery Mars 
Met in fierce battle mid the stars. 

A while the deadly fight was stayed: 
Each armed him with his trusty blade 
Whose sheath with tinkling bells supplied, 
And golden net, adorned his side; 
And grasped his ponderous leather shield 
To fight till one should fall or yield. 
Unnumbered wounds they gave and took: 
Their wearied bodies reeled and shook. 
At length upon the sand that drank 
Streams of their blood the warriors sank, 
But as a serpent rears his head 
Sore wounded by a peasant's tread, 
So Angad, fallen on his knees, 
Yet gathered strength his sword to seize; 
And, severed by the glittering blade, 
The giant's head on earth was laid. 

[I omit Cantos LV, LVI, LVII, and LVIII, which relate how 
Akampan and Prahasta sally out and fall. There is little novelty 
of incident in these Cantos and the results are exactly the same as 
before. In Canto LV, Akampan, at the command of Ravan, leads 
forth his troops. Evil omens are seen and heard. The enemies 
meet, and many fall on each side, the Vanars transfixed with 
arrows, the Rakshases crushed with rocks and trees. 



[468] 



1650 The Ramayana 

In Canto LVI Akampan sees that the Rakshases are worsted, 
and fights with redoubled rage and vigour. The Vanars fall 
fast under his "nets of arrows." Hanuman comes to the rescue. 
He throws mountain peaks at the giant which are dexterously 
stopped with flights of arrows; and at last beats him down and 
kills him with a tree. 

In Canto LVII, Ravan is seriously alarmed. He declares that 
he himself, Kumbhakarna or Prahasta, must go forth. Prahasta 
sallies out vaunting that the fowls of the air shall eat their fill of 
Vanar flesh. 

In Canto LVIII, the two armies meet. Dire is the conflict; 
ceaseless is the rain of stones and arrows. At last Nila meets 
Prahasta and breaks his bow. Prahasta leaps from his car, and the 
giant and the Vanar fight on foot. Nila with a huge tree crushes 
his opponent who falls like a tree when its roots are cut.] 



Canto LIX. Ravan's Sally. 



They told him that the chief was killed, 
And Ravan's breast with rage was filled. 
Then, fiercely moved by wrath and pride, 
Thus to his lords the tyrant cried: 

"No longer, nobles, may we show 
This lofty scorn for such a foe 
By whom our bravest, with his train 
Of steeds and elephants, is slain. 
Myself this day will take the field, 
And Raghu's sons their lives shall yield." 



Canto LIX. Ravan's Sally. 1651 

High on the royal car, that glowed 
With glory from his face, he rode; 
And tambour shell and drum pealed out, 
And joyful was each giant's shout. 
A mighty host, with eyeballs red 
Like flames of kindled fire, he led. 
He passed the city gate, and viewed, 
Arrayed, the Vanar multitude, 
Those wielding massy rocks, and these 
Armed with the stems of up torn trees, 
And Rama with his eyes aglow 
With warlike ardour viewed the foe, 
And thus the brave Vibhishan, best 
Of weapon-wielding chiefs, addressed: 
"What captain leads this bright array 
Where lances gleam and banners play, 
And thousands armed with spear and sword 
Await the bidding of their lord?" 

"Seest, thou," Vibhishan answered, "one 
Whose face is as the morning sun, 
Preeminent for hugest frame? 
Akampan 962 is the giant's name. 
Behold that chieftain, chariot-borne, 
Whom Brahma's chosen gifts adorn. 
He wields a bow like Indra's own; 
A lion on his flag is shown, 
His eyes with baleful fire are lit: 
Tis Ravan's son, 'tis Indrajit. 
There, brandishing in mighty hands 
His huge bow, Atikaya stands. 
And that proud warrior o'er whose head 



962 "It is to be understood," says the commentator, "that this is not the Akampan 
who has already been slain." 



1652 The Ramayana 

A moon-bright canopy is spread: 
Whose might, in many a battle tried, 
Has tamed imperial Indra's pride; 
Who wears a crown of burnished gold, 
Is Lanka's lord the lofty-souled." 

He ceased: and Rama knew his foe, 
And laid an arrow on his bow: 
"Woe to the wretch," he cried, "whom fate 
Abandons to my deadly hate." 
He spoke, and, firm by Lakshman's side, 
The giant to the fray defied. 
The lord of Lanka bade his train 
Of warriors by the gates remain, 
To guard the city from surprise 
By Rama's forest born allies. 
Then as some monster of the sea 
Cleaves swift-advancing billows, he 
Charged with impetuous onset through 
The foe, and cleft the host in two. 
Sugriva ran, the king to meet: 
A hill uprooted from its seat 
He hurled, with trees that graced the height 
Against the rover of the night: 
But cleft with shafts that checked its way 
Harmless upon the earth it lay. 
Then fiercer Ravan's fury grew, 
An arrow from his side he drew, 
Swift as a thunderbolt, aglow 
With fire, and launched it at the foe. 
Through flesh and bone a way it found, 
And stretched Sugriva on the ground. 
Sushen and Nala saw him fall, 
Gavaksha, Gavaya heard their call, 



Canto LIX. Ravan's Sally. 1653 

And, poising hills, in act to fling 

They charged amain the giant king. 

They charged, they hurled the hills in vain, 

He checked them with his arrowy rain, 

And every brave assailant felt 

The piercing wounds his missiles dealt, 

Then smitten by the shafts that came 

Keen, fleet, and thick, with certain aim, 

They fled to Rama, sure defence 

Against the oppressor's violence, 

Then, reverent palm to palm applied, 

Thus Lakshman to his brother cried: 

"To me, my lord, the task entrust 

To lay this giant in the dust." 

"Go, then," said Rama, "bravely fight; 

Beat down this rover of the night. 

But he, unmatched in bold emprise, 

Fears not the Lord of earth and skies, 

Keep on thy guard: with keenest eye 

Thy moments of attack espy. 

Let hand and eye in due accord 

Protect thee with the bow and sword." 

Then Lakshman round his brother threw 
His mighty arms in honour due, 
Bent lowly down his reverent head, 
And onward to the battle sped. 
Hanuman from afar beheld 
How Ravan's shafts the Vanars quelled: 
To meet the giant's car he ran, 
Raised his right arm and thus began: 
"If Brahma's boon thy life has screened 
From Yaksha, God, Gandharva, fiend, 
With these contending fear no ill, 



1654 The Ramayana 

But tremble at a Vanar still." 
With fury flashing from his eye 
The lord of Lanka made reply: 
"Strike, Vanar, strike: the fray begin, 
And hope eternal fame to win. 
[469] This arm shall prove thee in the strife 

And end thy glory and thy life." 
"Remember," cried the Wind-God's son, 
"Remember all that I have done, 
My prowess, King, thou knowest well, 
Shown in the fight when Aksha 963 fell." 

With heavy hand the giant smote 
Hanuman on the chest and throat, 
Who reeled and staggered to and fro, 
Stunned for a moment by the blow. 
Till, mustering strength, his hand he reared 
And struck the foe whom Indra feared. 
His huge limbs bent beneath the shock, 
As mountains, in an earthquake, rock, 
And from the Gods and sages pealed 
Shouts of loud triumph as he reeled. 
But strength returning nerved his frame: 
His eyeballs flashed with fiercer flame. 
No living creature might resist 
That blow of his tremendous fist 
Which fell upon Hanuman's flank: 
And to the ground the Vanar sank, 
No sign of life his body showed: 
And Ravan in his chariot rode 
At Nila; and his arrowy rain 
Fell on the captain and his train. 
Fierce Nila stayed his Vanar band, 



963 Ravan's son, whom Hanuman killed when he first visited Lanka. 



Canto LIX. Ravan's Sally. 1655 

And, heaving with his single hand 

A mountain peak, with vigorous swing 

Hurled the huge missile at the king. 

Hanuman life and strength regained, 
Burned for the fight and thus complained: 
"Why, coward giant, didst thou flee 
And leave the doubtful fight with me?" 
Seven mighty arrows keen and fleet 
The giant launched, the hill to meet; 
And, all its force and fury stayed, 
The harmless mass on earth was laid. 
Enraged the Vanar chief beheld 
The mountain peak by force repelled, 
And rained upon the foe a shower 
Of trees uptorn with branch and flower. 
Still his keen shafts which pierced and rent 
Each flying tree the giant sent: 
Still was the Vanar doomed to feel 
The tempest of the winged steel. 
Then, smarting from that arrowy storm, 
The Vanar chief condensed his form, 964 
And lightly leaping from the ground 
On Ravan's standard footing found; 
Then springing unimpeded down 
Stood on his bow and golden crown. 
The Vanar' s nimble leaps amazed 
Ikshvaku's son who stood and gazed. 
The giant, raging in his heart, 
Laid on his bow a fiery dart; 
The Vanar on his flagstaff eyed, 
And thus in tones of fury cried: 



964 Nila was the son of Agni the God of Fire, and possessed, like Milton's 
demons, the power of dilating and condensing his form at pleasure. 



1656 The Ramayana 

"Well skilled in magic lore art thou: 
But will thine art avail thee now? 
See if thy magic will defend 
Thy life against the dart I send." 



Thus Ravan spake, the giant king, 
And loosed the arrow from the string. 
It pierced, with direst fury sped, 
The Vanar with its flaming head. 
His father's might, his power innate 
Preserved him from the threatened fate. 
Upon his knees he fell, distained 
With streams of blood, but life remained. 



Still Ravan for the battle burned: 
At Lakshman next his car he turned, 
And charged amain with furious show, 
Straining in mighty hands his bow. 
"Come," Lakshman cried, "assay the fight: 
Leave foes unworthy of thy might." 
Thus Lakshman spoke: and Lanka's lord 
Heard the dread thunder of the cord. 
And mad with burning rage and pride 
In hasty words like these replied: 
"Joy, joy is mine, O Raghu's son: 
Thy fate to-day thou canst not shun. 
Slain by mine arrows thou shalt tread 
The gloomy pathway of the dead." 



Canto LIX. Ravan's Sally. 1657 

Thus as he spoke his bow he drew, 
And seven keen shafts at Lakshman flew, 
But Raghu's son with surest aim 
Cleft every arrow as it came. 
Thus with fleet shafts each warrior shot 
Against his foe, and rested not. 
Then one choice weapon from his store, 
By Brahma's self bestowed of yore, 
Fierce as the flames that end the world, 
The giant king at Lakshman hurled. 
The hero fell, and racked with pain, 
Scarce could his hand his bow retain. 
But sense and strength resumed their seat 
And, lightly springing to his feet, 
He struck with one tremendous stroke 
And Ravan's bow in splinters broke. 
From Lakshman's cord three arrows flew 
And pierced the giant monarch through. 
Sore wounded Ravan closed, and round 
Ikshvaku's son his strong arms wound. 
With strength unrivalled, Brahma's gift, 
He strove from earth his foe to lift. 
"Shall I," he cried, "who overthrow 
Mount Meru and the Lord of Snow, 
And heaven and all who dwell therein, 
Be foiled by one of Rama's kin?" 
But though he heaved, and toiled, and strained, 
Unmoved Ikshvaku's son remained. 
His frame by those huge arms compressed 
The giant's God-given force confessed, 

But conscious that himself was part [470] 

Of Vishnu, he was firm in heart. 



1658 The Ramayana 

The Wind-God's son the fight beheld, 
And rushed at Ravan, rage-impelled. 
Down crashed his mighty hand; the foe 
Full in the chest received the blow. 
His eyes grew dim, his knees gave way, 
And senseless on the earth he lay. 

The Wind-God's son to Rama bore 
Deep-wounded Lakshman stained with gore. 
He whom no foe might lift or bend 
Was light as air to such a friend. 
The dart that Lakshman's side had cleft, 
Untouched, the hero's body left, 
And flashing through the air afar 
Resumed its place in Ravan's car; 
And, waxing well though wounded sore, 
He felt the deadly pain no more. 
And Ravan, though with deep wounds pained, 
Slowly his sense and strength regained, 
And furious still and undismayed 
On bow and shaft his hand he laid. 

Then Hanuman to Rama cried: 
"Ascend my back, great chief, and ride 
Like Vishnu borne on Garud's wing, 
To battle with the giant king." 
So, burning for the dire attack, 
Rode Rama on the Vanar's back, 
And with fierce accents loud and slow 
Thus gave defiance to the foe, 
While his strained bowstring made a sound 
Like thunder when it shakes the ground: 
"Stay, Monarch of the giants, stay, 
The penalty of sin to pay. 



Canto LIX. Ravan's Sally. 1659 

Stay! whither wilt thou fly, and how 
Escape the death that waits thee now?" 

No word the giant king returned: 
His eyes with flames of fury burned. 
His arm was stretched, his bow was bent, 
And swift his fiery shafts were sent. 
Red torrents from the Vanar flowed: 
Then Rama near to Ravan strode, 
And with keen darts that never failed, 
The chariot of the king assailed. 
With surest aim his arrows flew: 
The driver and the steeds he slew. 
And shattered with the pointed steel 
Car, flag, and pole and yoke and wheel. 
As Indra hurls his bolt to smite 
Mount Meru's heaven-ascending height, 
So Rama with a flaming dart 
Struck Lanka's monarch near the heart, 
Who reeled and fell beneath the blow 
And from loose fingers dropped his bow. 
Bright as the sun, with crescent head, 
From Rama's bow an arrow sped, 
And from his forehead, proud no more, 
Cleft the bright coronet he wore. 
Then Rama stood by Ravan's side 
And to the conquered giant cried: 
"Well hast thou fought: thine arm has slain 
Strong heroes of the Vanar train. 
I will not strike or slay thee now, 
For weary, faint with fight art thou. 
To Lanka's town thy footsteps bend, 
And there the night securely spend. 
To-morrow come with car and bow, 



1660 The Ramayana 

And then my prowess shalt thou know." 



He ceased: the king in humbled pride 
Rose from the earth and naught replied. 
With wounded limbs and shattered crown 
He sought again his royal town. 



Canto LX. Kumbhakarna Roused. 



With humbled heart and broken pride 

Through Lanka's gate the giant hied, 

Crushed, like an elephant beneath 

A lion's spring and murderous teeth, 

Or like a serpent 'neath the wing 

And talons of the Feathered King. 

Such was the giant's wild alarm 

At arrows shot by Rama's arm; 

Shafts with red lightning round them curled, 

Like Brahma's bolts that end the world. 



Canto LX. Kumbhakarna Roused. 1661 

Supported on his golden throne, 
With failing eye and humbled tone, 
"Giants," he cried, "the toil is vain, 
Fruitless the penance and the pain, 
If I whom Indra owned his peer, 
Secure from Gods, a mortal fear. 
My soul remembers, now too late, 
Lord Brahma's words who spoke my fate: 
"Tremble, proud Giant," thus they ran, 
"And dread thy death from slighted man. 
Secure from Gods and demons live, 
And serpents, by the boon I give. 
Against their power thy life is charmed, 
But against man is still unarmed." 
This Rama is the man foretold 
By Anaranya's 965 lips of old: 



"Fear, Ravan, basest of the base: 
For of mine own imperial race 
A prince in after time shall spring 
And thee and thine to ruin bring. 
And Vedavati, 966 ere she died 

Slain by my ruthless insult, cried: [471] 

"A scion of my royal line 
Shall slay, vile wretch, both thee and thine." 
She in a later birth became 
King Janak's child, now Rama's dame. 



965 An ancient king of Ayodhya said by some to have been Prithu's father. 

966 The daughter of King Kusadhwaja. She became an ascetic, and being 
insulted by Ravan in the woods where she was performing penance, destroyed 
herself by entering fire, but was born again as Sita to be in turn the destruction 
of him who had insulted her. 



1662 The Ramayana 

Nandisvara 967 foretold this fate, 
And Uma 968 when I moved her hate, 
And Rambha, 969 and the lovely child 
Of Varun 970 by my touch defiled. 
I know the fated hour is nigh: 
Hence, captains, to your stations fly. 
Let warders on the rampart stand: 
Place at each gate a watchful band; 
And, terror of immortal eyes, 
Let mightiest Kumbhakarna rise. 
He, slumbering, free from care and pain, 
By Brahma's curse, for months has lain. 
But when Prahasta's death he hears, 
Mine own defeat and doubts and fears, 
The chief will rise to smite the foe 
And his unrivalled valour show. 
Then Raghu's royal sons and all 
The Vanars neath his might will fall." 

The giant lords his hest obeyed, 
They left him, trembling and afraid, 
And from the royal palace strode 
To Kumbhakarna's vast abode. 
They carried garlands sweet and fresh, 
And reeking loads of blood and flesh. 



967 Nandisvara was Siva's chief attendant. Ravan had despised and laughed at 
him for appearing in the form of a monkey and the irritated Nandisvara cursed 
him and foretold his destruction by monkeys. 

968 Ravan once upheaved and shook Mount Kailasa the favourite dwelling 
place of Siva the consort of Uma, and was cursed in consequence by the 
offended Goddess. 

969 Rambha, who has several times been mentioned in the course of the poem, 
was one of the nymphs of heaven, and had been insulted by Ravan. 

970 Punjikasthala was the daughter of Varun. Ravan himself has mentioned 
in this book his insult to her, and the curse pronounced in consequence by 
Brahma. 



Canto LX. Kumbhakarna Roused. 1663 

They reached the dwelling where he lay, 

A cave that reached a league each way, 

Sweet with fair blooms of lovely scent 

And bright with golden ornament. 

His breathings came so fierce and fast, 

Scarce could the giants brook the blast. 

They found him on a golden bed 

With his huge limbs at length outspread. 

They piled their heaps of venison near, 

Fat buffaloes and boars and deer. 

With wreaths of flowers they fanned his face, 

And incense sweetened all the place. 

Each raised his mighty voice as loud 

As thunders of an angry cloud, 

And conchs their stirring summons gave 

That echoed through the giant's cave. 

Then on his breast they rained their blows, 

And high the wild commotion rose 

When cymbal vied with drum and horn. 

And war cries on the gale upborne. 

Through all the air loud discord spread, 

And, struck with fear, the birds fell dead. 

But still he slept and took his rest. 

Then dashed they on his shaggy chest 

Clubs, maces, fragments of the rock: 

He moved not once, nor felt the shock. 

The giants made one effort more 

With shell and drum and shout and roar. 

Club, mallet, mace, in fury plied, 

Rained blows upon his breast and side. 

And elephants were urged to aid, 

And camels groaned and horses neighed. 

They drenched him with a hundred pails, 

They tore his ears with teeth and nails. 



1664 The Ramayana 

They bound together many a mace 
And beat him on the head and face; 
And elephants with ponderous tread 
Stamped on his limbs and chest and head. 
The unusual weight his slumber broke: 
He started, shook his sides, and woke; 
And, heedless of the wounds and blows, 
Yawning with thirst and hunger rose, 
His jaws like hell gaped fierce and wide, 
Dire as the flame neath ocean's tide. 
Red as the sun on Meru's crest 
The giant's face his wrath expressed, 
And every burning breath he drew 
Was like the blast that rushes through 
The mountain cedars. Up he raised 
His awful head with eyes that blazed 
Like comets, dire as Death in form 
Who threats the worlds with fire and storm. 
The giants pointed to their stores 
Of buffaloes and deer and boars, 
And straight he gorged him with a flood 
Of wine, with marrow, flesh, and blood. 
He ceased: the giants ventured near 
And bent their lowly heads in fear. 
Then Kumbhakar[n.]a glared with eyes 
Still heavy in their first surprise, 
Still drowsy from his troubled rest, 
And thus the giant band addressed. 
"How have ye dared my sleep to break? 
No trifling cause should bid me wake. 
Say, is all well? or tell the need 
That drives you with unruly speed 
To wake me. Mark the words I say, 
[472] The king shall tremble in dismay, 



Canto LX. Kumbhakarna Roused. 1665 

The fire be quenched and Indra slain 
Ere ye shall break my rest in vain." 



Yupaksha answered: "Chieftain, hear; 
No God or fiend excites our fear. 
But men in arms our walls assail: 
We tremble lest their might prevail. 
For vengeful Rama vows to slay 
The foe who stole his queen away, 
And, matchless for his warlike deeds, 
A host of mighty Vanars leads. 
Ere now a monstrous Vanar came, 
Laid Lanka waste with ruthless flame, 
And Aksha, Ravan's offspring, slew 
With all his warrior retinue. 
Our king who never trembled yet 
For heavenly hosts in battle met, 
At length the general dread has shared, 
O'erthrown by Rama's arm and spared." 



He ceased: and Kumbhakarna spake: 
"I will go forth and vengeance take; 
Will tread their hosts beneath my feet, 
Then triumph-flushed our king will meet. 
Our giant bands shall eat their fill 
Of Vanars whom this arm shall kill. 
The princes' blood shall be my draught, 
The chieftains' shall by you be quaffed." 
He spake, and, with an eager stride 
That shook the earth, to Ravan hied. 



1666 The Ramayana 

Canto LXI. The Vanars' Alarm. 

The son of Raghu near the wall 
Saw, proudly towering over all, 
The mighty giant stride along 
Attended by the warrior throng; 
Heard Kumbhakarna's heavy feet 
Awake the echoes of the street; 
And, with the lust of battle fired, 
Turned to Vibhishan and inquired: 
"Vibhishan, tell that chieftain's name 
Who rears so high his mountain frame; 
With glittering helm and lion eyes, 
Preeminent in might and size 
Above the rest of giant birth, 
He towers the standard of the earth; 
And all the Vanars when they see 
The mighty warrior turn and flee." 

"In him," Vibhishan answered, "know 
Visravas' son, the Immortals' foe, 
Fierce Kumbhakarna, mightier far 
Than Gods and fiends and giants are. 
He conquered Yama in the fight, 
And Indra trembling owned his might. 
His arm the Gods and fiends subdued, 
Gandharvas and the serpent brood. 
The rest of his gigantic race 
Are wondrous strong by God- giving grace; 
But nature at his birth to him 
Gave matchless power and strength of limb. 
Scarce was he born, fierce monster, when 
He killed and ate a thousand men. 
The trembling race of men, appalled, 



Canto LXI. The Vanars' Alarm. 1667 

On Indra for protection called; 
And he, to save the suffering world, 
His bolt at Kumbhakarna hurled. 
So awful was the monster's yell 
That fear on all the nations fell, 
He, rushing on with furious roar, 
A tusk from huge Airavat tore, 
And dealt the God so dire a blow 
That Indra reeling left his foe, 
And with the Gods and mortals fled 
To Brahma's throne dispirited. 
"O Brahma," thus the suppliants cried, 
"Some refuge for this woe provide. 
If thus his maw the giant sate 
Soon will the world be desolate." 
The Self-existent calmed their woe, 
And spake in anger to their foe: 
"As thou wast born, Pulastya's son, 
That worlds might weep by thee undone, 
Thou like the dead henceforth shalt be: 
Such is the curse I lay on thee." 
Senseless he lay, nor spoke nor stirred; 
Such was the power of Brahma's word. 
But Ravan, troubled for his sake, 
Thus to the Self-existent spake: 
"Who lops the tree his care has reared 
When golden fruit has first appeared? 
Not thus, O Brahma, deal with one 
Descended from thine own dear son. 971 
Still thou, O Lord, thy word must keep, 
He may not die, but let him sleep. 
Yet fix a time for him to break 



971 Pulastya was the son of Brahma and father of Visravas or Paulastya the 
father of Ravan and Kumbhakarna. 



1668 The Ramayana 

The chains of slumber and awake." 
He ceased: and Brahma made reply; 
"Six months in slumber shall he lie 
And then arising for a day 
Shall cast the numbing bonds away." 
Now Ravan in his doubt and dread 
Has roused the monster from his bed, 
Who comes in this the hour of need 
On slaughtered Vanars flesh to feed. 
Each Vanar, when his awe-struck eyes 
Behold the monstrous chieftain, flies. 
With hopeful words their minds deceive, 
And let our trembling hosts believe 
They see no giant, but, displayed, 
A lifeless engine deftly made." 



Then Rama called to Nila: "Haste, 
Let troops near every gate be placed, 
And, armed with fragments of the rock 
[473] And trees, each lane and alley block." 

Thus Rama spoke: the chief obeyed, 
And swift the Vanars stood arrayed, 
As when the black clouds their battle form, 
The summit of a hill to storm. 



Canto LXII. Ravan's Request. 



Canto LXII. Ravan's Request. 1669 

Along bright Lanka's royal road 
The giant, roused from slumber, strode, 
While from the houses on his head 
A rain of fragrant flowers was shed. 
He reached the monarch's gate whereon 
Rich gems and golden fretwork shone. 
Through court and corridor that shook 
Beneath his tread his way he took, 
And stood within the chamber where 
His brother sat in dark despair. 
But sudden, at the grateful sight 
The monarch's eye again grew bright. 
He started up, forgot his fear, 
And drew his giant brother near. 
The younger pressed the elder's feet 
And paid the King observance meet, 
Then cried: "O Monarch, speak thy will, 
And let my care thy word fulfil. 
What sudden terror and dismay 
Have burst the bonds in which I lay?" 

Fierce flashed the flame from Ravan's eye, 
As thus in wrath he made reply: 
"Fair time, I ween, for sleep is this, 
To lull thy soul in tranquil bliss, 
Unheeding, in oblivion drowned, 
The dangers that our lives surround. 
Brave Rama, Dasaratha's son, 
A passage o'er the sea has won, 
And, with the Vanar monarch's aid, 
Round Lanka's walls his hosts arrayed. 
Though never in the deadly field 
My Rakshas troops were known to yield, 
The bravest of the giant train 



1670 The Ramayana 

Have fallen by the Vanars slain. 
Hence comes my fear. O fierce and brave, 
Go forth, our threatened Lanka save. 
Go forth, a dreadful vengeance take: 
For this, O chief, I bade thee wake. 
The Gods and trembling fiends have felt 
The furious blows thine arm has dealt. 
Earth has no warrior, heaven has none 
To match thy might, Paulastya's son." 



Canto LXIII. Kumbhakarna's Boast. 



Then Kumbhakarna laughed aloud 
And cried; "O Monarch, once so proud, 
We warned thee, but thou wouldst not hear; 
And now the fruits of sin appear. 
We warned thee, I, thy nobles, all 
Who loved thee, in thy council hall. 
Those sovereigns who with blinded eyes 
Neglect the foe their hearts despise, 
Soon, falling from their high estate 
Bring on themselves the stroke of fate. 
Accept at length, thy life to save, 
The counsel sage Vibhishan gave, 
The prudent counsel spurned before, 
And Sita to her lord restore." 97 



972 I omit a tedious sermon on the danger of rashness and the advantages of 
prudence, sufficient to irritate a less passionate hearer than Ravan. 



Canto LXIII. Kumbhakarna's Boast. 1671 

The monarch frowned, by passion moved 
And thus in angry words reproved: 
"Wilt thou thine elder brother school, 
Forgetful of the ancient rule 
That bids thee treat him as the sage 
Who guides thee with the lore of age? 
Think on the dangers of the day, 
Nor idly throw thy words away: 
If, led astray, by passion stirred, 
I in the pride of power have erred; 
If deeds of old were done amiss, 
No time for vain reproach is this. 
Up, brother; let thy loving care 
The errors of thy king repair." 

To calm his wrath, his soul to ease, 
The younger spake in words like these: 
"Yea, from our bosoms let us cast 
All idle sorrow for the past. 
Let grief and anger be repressed: 
Again be firm and self-possessed. 
This day, O Monarch, shalt thou see 
The Vanar legions turn and flee, 
And Rama and his brother slain 
With their hearts' blood shall dye the plain. 
Yea, if the God who rules the dead, 
And Varun their battalions led; 
If Indra with the Storm-Gods came 
Against me, and the Lord of Flame, 
Still would I fight with all and slay 
Thy banded foes, my King, to-day. 
If Raghu's son this day withstand 
The blow of mine uplifted hand, 
Deep in his breast my darts shall sink, 



[474] 



1672 The Ramayana 

And torrents of his life-blood drink. 
O fear not, in my promise trust: 
This arm shall lay him in the dust, 
Shall leave the fierce Sugriva dyed 
With gore, and Lakshman by his side, 
And strike the great Hanuman down, 
The spoiler of our glorious town." 973 



Canto LXIV. Mahodar's Speech. 



He ceased: and when his lips were closed 
Mahodar thus his rede opposed: 
"Why wilt thou shame thy noble birth 
And speak like one of little worth? 
Why boast thee thus in youthful pride 
Rejecting wisdom for thy guide? 
How will thy single arm oppose 
The victor of a thousand foes, 
Who proved in Janasthan his might 
And slew the rovers of the night? 
The remnant of those legions, they 
Who saw his power that fatal day, 
Now in this leaguered city dread 
The mighty chief from whom they fled. 
And wouldst thou meet the lord of men, 
Beard the great lion in his den, 



973 The Bengal recension assigns a very different speech to Kumbhakarna and 
makes him say that Narad the messenger of the Gods had formerly told him that 
Vishnu himself incarnate as Dasaratha's son should come to destroy Ravan. 



Canto LXIV. Mahodar's Speech. 1673 

And, when thine eyes are open, break 

The slumber of a deadly snake? 

Who may an equal battle wage 

With him, so awful in his rage, 

Fierce as the God of Death whom none 

May vanquish, Dasaratha's son? 

But, Ravan, shall the lady still 

Refuse compliance with thy will? 

No, listen, King, to this design 

Which soon shall make the captive thine. 

This day through Lanka's streets proclaim 

That four of us 974 of highest fame 

With Kumbhakarna at our head 

Will strike the son of Raghu dead. 

Forth to the battle will we go 

And prove our prowess on the foe. 

Then, if our bold attempt succeed, 

No further plans thy hopes will need. 

But if in vain our warriors strive, 

And Raghu's son be left alive, 

We will return, and, wounded sore, 

Our armour stained with gouts of gore, 

Will show the shafts that rent each frame, 

Keen arrows marked with Rama's name, 

And say we giants have devoured 

The princes whom our might o'erpowered. 

Then let the joyful tidings spread 

That Raghu's royal sons are dead. 

To all around thy pleasure show, 

Gold, pearls, and precious robes, bestow. 

Gay garlands round the portals twine, 

Enjoy the banquet and the wine. 



974 Mahodar, Dwijihva, Sanhrada, and Vitardan. 



1674 The Ramayana 

Then go, the scornful lady seek, 
And woo her when her heart is weak. 
Rich robes and gold and gems display, 
And gently wile her grief away. 
Then will she feel her hopeless state, 
Widowed, forlorn, and desolate; 
Know that on thee her bliss depends, 
Far from her country and her friends; 
Then, her proud spirit overthrown, 
The lady will be all thine own." 



Canto LXV. Kumbhakarna's Speech. 



But haughty Kumbhakarna spurned 
His counsel, and to Ravan turned: 
"Thy life from peril will I free 
And slay the foe who threatens thee. 
A hero never vaunts in vain, 
Like bellowing clouds devoid of rain, 
Nor, Monarch, be thine ear inclined 
To counsellors of slavish kind, 
Who with mean arts their king mislead 
And mar each gallant plan and deed. 
O, let not words like his beguile 
The glorious king of Lanka's isle." 



Canto LXV. Kumbhakarna's Speech. 1675 

Thus scornful Kumbhakarna cried, 
And Ravan with a laugh replied: 
"Mahodar fears and fain would shun 
The battle with Ikshvaku's son. 
Of all my giant warriors, who 
Is strong as thou, and brave and true? 
Ride, conqueror, to the battle ride, 
And tame the foeman's senseless pride. 
Go forth like Yama to the field, 
And let thine arm thy trident wield. 
Scared by the lightning of thine eye 
The Vanar hosts will turn and fly; 
And Rama, when he sees thee near, 
With trembling heart will own his fear." 

The champion heard, and, well content, 
Forth from the hall his footsteps bent. 
He grasped his spear, the foeman's dread, 
Black iron all, both shaft and head, 
Which, dyed in many a battle, bore 
Great spots of slaughtered victims' gore. 
The king upon his neck had thrown 
The jewelled chain which graced his own. 
And garlands of delicious scent 
About his limbs for ornament. 
Around his arms gay bracelets clung, 
And pendants in his ears were hung. 
Adorned with gold, about his waist 
His coat of mail was firmly braced, 
And like Narayan 975 or the God 
Who rules the sky he proudly trod. 
Behind him went a mighty throng 
Of giant warriors tall and strong, [475] 



1676 The Ramayana 

On elephants of noblest breeds. 
With cars, with camels, and with steeds: 
And, armed with spear and axe and sword 
Were fain to battle for their lord. 976 



Canto LXVI. Kumbhakarna's Sally. 



In pomp and pride of warlike state 
The giant passed the city gate. 
He raised his voice: the hills, the shore 
Of Lanka's sea returned the roar. 
The Vanars saw the chief draw nigh 
Whom not the ruler of the sky, 
Nor Yama, monarch of the dead, 
Might vanquish, and affrighted fled. 
When royal Angad, Bali's son, 
Saw the scared Vanars turn and run, 
Undaunted still he kept his ground, 
And shouted as he gazed around: 
"O Nala, Nila, stay nor let 
Your souls your generous worth forget, 
O Kumud and Gavaksha, why 
Like base-born Vanars will ye fly? 
Turn, turn, nor shame your order thus: 
This giant is no match for us" 



976 There is so much commonplace repetition in these Sallies of the Rakshas 
chieftains that omissions are frequently necessary. The usual ill omens attend 
the sally of Kumbhakarna, and the Canto ends with a description of the terrified 
Vanars' flight which is briefly repeated in different words at the beginning of 
the next Canto. 



Canto LXVI. Kumbhakarna's Sally. 1677 

They heard his voice: the flight was stayed; 
Again for war they stood arrayed, 
And hurled upon the foe a shower 
Of mountain peaks and trees in flower. 
Still on his limbs their missiles rained: 
Unmoved, their blows he still sustained, 
And seemed unconscious of the stroke 
When rocks against his body broke. 
Fierce as the flame when woods are dry 
He charged with fury in his eye. 
Like trees consumed with fervent heat 
They fell beneath the giant's feet. 
Some o'er the ground, dyed red with gore, 
Fled wild with terror to the shore, 
And, deeming that all hope was lost, 
Ran to the bridge they erst had crossed. 
Some clomb the trees their lives to save, 
Some sought the mountain and the cave; 
Some hid them in the bosky dell, 
And there in deathlike slumber fell. 

When Angad saw the chieftains fly 
He called them with a mighty cry: 
"Once more, O Vanars, charge once more, 
On to the battle as before. 
In all her compass earth has not, 
To hide you safe, one secret spot. 
What! leave your arms? each nobler dame 
Will scorn her consort for the shame. 
This blot upon your names efface, 
And keep your valour from disgrace. 
Stay, chieftains; wherefore will ye run, 
A band of warriors scared by one?" 



1678 The Ramayana 

Scarce would they hear: they would not stay, 
And basely spoke in wild dismay: 
"Have we not fought, and fought in vain 
Have we not seen our mightiest slain? 
The giant's matchless force we fear, 
And fly because our lives are dear." 
But Bali's son with gentle art 
Dispelled their dread and cheered each heart. 
They turned and formed and waited still 
Obedient to the prince's will. 



Canto LXVII. Kumbhakarna's Death. 



Thus from their flight the Vanars turned, 
And every heart for battle burned, 
Determined on the spot to die 
Or gain a warrior's meed on high. 
Again the Vanars stooped to seize 
Their weapons, rocks and fallen trees; 
Again the deadly fight began, 
And fiercely at the giant ran. 
Unmoved the monster kept his place: 
He raised on high his awful mace, 
Whirled the huge weapon round his head 
And laid the foremost Vanars dead. 
Eight thousand fell bedewed with gore, 
Then sank and died seven hundred more. 
Then thirty, twenty, ten, or eight 
At each fierce onset met their fate, 
And fast the fallen were devoured 
Like snakes by Garud's beak o'erpowered. 



Canto LXVII. Kumbhakarna's Death. 1679 

Then Dwivid from the Vanar van, 

Armed with an uptorn mountain, ran, 

Like a huge cloud when fierce winds blow, 

And charged amain the mountain foe. 

With wondrous force the hill he threw: 

O'er Kumbhakarna's head it flew, 

And falling on his host afar 

Crushed many a giant, steed, and car. 

Rocks, trees, by fierce Hanuman sped, 

Rained fast on Kumbhakarna's head. 

Whose spear each deadlier missile stopped, 

And harmless on the plain it dropped. [476] 

Then with his furious eyes aglow 

The giant rushed upon the foe, 

Where, with a woody hill upheaved, 

Hanuman's might his charge received. 

Through his vast frame the giant felt 

The angry blow Hanuman dealt. 

He reeled a moment, sore distressed, 

Then smote the Vanar on the breast, 

As when the War-God's furious stroke 

Through Krauncha's hill a passage broke. 977 

Fierce was the blow, and deep and wide 

The rent: with crimson torrents dyed, 

Hanuman, maddened by the pain, 

Roared like a cloud that brings the rain, 

And from each Rakshas throat rang out 

Loud clamour and exultant shout. 

Then Nila hurled with mustered might 

The fragment of a mountain height; 



977 Kartikeya the God of War, and the hero and incarnation Parasurama are said 
to have cut a passage through the mountain Krauncha, a part of the Himalayan 
range, in the same way as the immense gorge that splits the Pyrenees under the 
towers of Marbore was cloven at one blow of Roland's sword Durandal. 



1680 The Ramayana 

Nor would the rock the foe have missed, 
But Kumbhakarna raised his fist 
And smote so fiercely that the mass 
Fell crushed to powder on the grass. 
Five chieftains of the Vanar race 978 
Charged Kumbhakarna face to face, 
And his huge frame they wildly beat 
With rocks and trees and hands and feet. 
Round Rishabh first the giant wound 
His arms and hurled him to the ground, 
Where speechless, senseless, wounded sore, 
He lay his face besmeared with gore. 
Then Nfla with his fist he slew, 
And Sarabh with his knee o'erthrew, 
Nor could Gavaksha's strength withstand 
The force of his terrific hand. 
At Gandhamadan's eager call 
Rushed thousands to avenge their fall, 
Nor ceased those Vanars to assail 
With knee and fist and tooth and nail. 
Around his foes the giant threw 
His mighty arms, and nearer drew 
The captives subject to his will: 
Then snatched them up and ate his fill. 
There was no respite then, no pause: 
Fast gaped and closed his hell-like jaws: 
Yet, prisoned in that gloomy cave, 
Some Vanars still their lives could save: 
Some through his nostrils found a way, 
Some through his ears resought the day. 
Like Indra with his thunder, like 
The God of Death in act to strike, 



978 Rishabh, Sarabh, Nfla, Gavaksha, and Gandhamadan. 



Canto LXVII. Kumbhakarna's Death. 1681 

The giant seized his ponderous spear, 
And charged the foe in swift career. 
Before his might the Vanars fell, 
Nor could their hosts his charge repel. 
Then trembling, nor ashamed to run, 
They turned and fled to Raghu's son. 

When Bali's warrior son 979 beheld 
Their flight, his heart with fury swelled. 
He rushed, with his terrific shout, 
To meet the foe and stay the rout. 
He came, he hurled a mountain peak, 
And smote the giant on the cheek. 
His ponderous spear the giant threw: 
Fierce was the cast, the aim was true; 
But Angad, trained in war and tried, 
Saw ere it came, and leapt aside. 
Then with his open hand he smote 
The giant on the chest and throat. 
That blow the giant scarce sustained; 
But sense and strength were soon regained. 
With force which nothing might resist 
He caught the Vanar by the wrist, 
Whirled him, as if in pastime, round, 
And dashed him senseless on the ground. 
There low on earth his foe lay crushed: 
At King Sugriva next he rushed, 
Who, waiting for the charge, stood still, 
And heaved on high a shattered hill, 
He looked on Kumbhakarna dyed 
With streams of blood, and fiercely cried: 
"Great glory has thine arm achieved, 



79 Angad. The text calls him the son of the son of him who holds the 
thunderbolt, i.e. the grandson of Indra. 



1682 The Ramayana 

And thousands of their lives bereaved. 
Now leave a while thy meaner foes, 
And brook the hill Sugriva throws." 

He spoke, and hurled the mass he held: 
The giant's chest the stroke repelled, 
Then on the Vanars fell despair, 
And Rakshas clamour filled the air. 
The giant raised his arm, and fast 
Came the tremendous 980 spear he cast. 
Haniiman caught it as it flew, 
And knapped it on his knee in two. 
The giant saw the broken spear: 
His clouded eye confessed his fear; 
Yet at Sugriva's head he sent 
[477] A peak from Lanka's mountain rent. 

The rushing mass no might could stay: 
Sugriva fell and senseless lay. 
The giant stooped his foe to seize, 
And bore him thence, as bears the breeze 
A cloud in autumn through the sky. 
He heard the sad Immortals sigh, 
And shouts of triumph long and loud 
Went up from all the Rakshas crowd. 
Through Lanka's gate the giant passed 
Holding his struggling captive fast, 
While from each terrace, house, and tower 
Fell on his haughty head a shower 
Of fragrant scent and flowery rain, 
Blossoms and leaves and scattered grain. 981 



980 Literally, weighing a thousand bhdras. The bhdra is a weight equal to 
2000 palas, the pala is equal to four karsas, and the karia to 11375 French 
grammes or about 176 grains troy. The spear seems very light for a warrior of 
Kumbhakarna's strength and stature and the work performed with it. 

981 The custom of throwing parched or roasted grain, with wreaths and flowers, 



Canto LXVII. Kumbhakarna's Death. 1683 

By slow degrees the Vanars' lord 
Felt life and sense and strength restored. 
He heard the giants' joyful boast: 
He thought upon his Vanar host. 
His teeth and feet he fiercely plied, 
And bit and rent the giant's side, 
Who, mad with pain and smeared with gore, 
Hurled to the ground the load he bore. 
Regardless of a storm of blows 
Swift to the sky the Vanar rose, 
Then lightly like a flying ball 
High overleapt the city wall, 
And joyous for deliverance won 
Regained the side of Raghu's son. 
And Kumbhakarna, mad with hate 
And fury, sallied from the gate, 
The carnage of the foe renewed 
And filled his maw with gory food. 
Slaying, with headlong frenzy blind, 
Both Vanar foes and giant kind. 

Nor would Sumitra's valiant son 982 
The might of Kumbhakarna shun, 
Who through his harness felt the sting 
Of keen shafts loosened from the string. 
His heart confessed the warrior's power, 
And, bleeding from the ceaseless shower 
That smote him on the chest and side, 
With words like these the giant cried: 
"Well fought, well fought, Sumitra's son; 
Eternal glory hast thou won, 



on the heads of kings and conquerors when they go forth to battle and return is 
frequently mentioned by Indian poets. 



1684 The Ramayana 

For thou in desperate fight hast met 
The victor never conquered yet, 
Whom, borne on huge Airavat's back, 
E'en Indra trembles to attack. 
Go, son of Queen Sumitra, go: 
Thy valour and thy strength I know. 
Now all my hope and earnest will 
Is Rama in the fight to kill. 
Let him beneath my weapons fall, 
And I will meet and conquer all." 

The chieftain, of Sumitra born, 
Made answer as he laughed in scorn: 
"Yea, thou hast won a victor's fame 
From trembling Gods and Indra's shame. 
There waits thee now a mightier foe 
Whose prowess thou hast yet to know. 
There, famous in a hundred lands, 
Rama the son of Raghu stands." 

Straight at the king the giant sped, 
And earth was shaken at his tread. 
His bow the hero grasped and strained, 
And deadly shafts in torrents rained. 
As Kumbhakarna felt each stroke 
From his huge mouth burst fire and smoke; 
His hands were loosed in mortal pain 
And dropped his weapons on the plain. 
Though reft of spear and sword and mace 
No terror changed his haughty face. 
With heavy hands he rained his blows 
And smote to death a thousand foes. 
Where'er the furious monster strode 
While down his limbs the red blood flowed 



Canto LXVII. Kumbhakarna's Death. 1685 

Like torrents down a mountain's side, 
Vanars and bears and giants died. 
High o'er his head a rock he swung, 
And the huge mass at Rama flung. 
But Rama's arrows bright as flame 
Shattered the mountain as it came. 
Then Raghu's son, his eyes aglow 
With burning anger, charged the foe, 
And as his bow he strained and tried 
With fearful clang the cord replied. 
Wroth at the bowstring's threatening clang 
To meet his foe the giant sprang. 
High towering with enormous frame 
Huge as a wood-crowned hill he came. 
But Rama firm and self-possessed 
In words like these the foe addressed: 
"Draw near, O Rakshas lord, draw near, 
Nor turn thee from the fight in fear. 
Thou meetest Rama face to face, 
Destroyer of the giant race. 
Come, fight, and thou shalt feel this hour, 
Laid low in death, thy conqueror's power." 

He ceased: and mad with wrath and pride 
The giant champion thus replied: 
"Come thou to me and thou shalt find 
A foeman of a different kind. 
No Khara, no Viradha, — thou 
Hast met a mightier warrior now. 
The strength of Kumbhakarna fear, 
And dread the iron mace I rear 
This mace in days of yore subdued 
The Gods and Danav multitude. 
Prove, lion of Ikshvaku's line, 



1686 The Ramayana 

Thy power upon these limbs of mine. 
Then, after trial, shalt thou bleed, 
And with thy flesh my hunger feed." 

He ceased: and Rama, undismayed, 
[478] Upon his cord those arrows laid 

Which pierced the stately Sal trees through, 

And Bali king of Vanars slew. 

They flew, they smote, but smote in vain 

Those mighty limbs that felt no pain. 

Then Rama sent with surest aim 

The dart that bore the Wind-God's name. 

The missile from the giant tore 

His huge arm and the mace it bore, 

Which crushed the Vanars where it fell: 

And dire was Kumbhakarna's yell. 

The giant seized a tree, and then 

Rushed madly at the lord of men. 

Another dart, Lord Indra's own, 

To meet his furious onset thrown, 

His left arm from the shoulder lopped, 

And like a mountain peak it dropped. 

Then from the bow of Rama sped 

Two arrows, each with crescent head; 

And, winged with might which naught could stay, 

They cut the giant's legs away. 

They fell, and awful was the sound 

As those vast columns shook the ground; 

And sky and sea and hill and cave 

In echoing roars their answer gave. 

Then from his side the hero drew 

A dart that like the tempest flew — 

No deadlier shaft has ever flown 

Than that which Indra called his own — 



Canto LXVIII. Ravan's Lament. 1687 

Nor could the giant's mail-armed neck 
The fury of the missile check. 
Through skin and flesh and bone it smote 
And rent asunder head and throat. 
Down with the sound of thunder rolled 
The head adorned with rings of gold, 
And crushed to pieces in its fall 
A gate, a tower, a massive wall. 
Hurled to the sea the body fell: 
Terrific was the ocean's swell, 
Nor could swift fin and nimble leap 
Save the crushed creatures of the deep. 



Thus he who plagued in impious pride 
The Gods and Brahmans fought and died. 
Glad were the hosts of heaven, and long 
The air re-echoed with their song. 983 



Canto LXVIII. Ravan's Lament. 



983 I have abridged this long Canto by omitting some vain repetitions, common- 
place epithets and similes and other unimportant matter. There are many verses 
in this Canto which European scholars would rigidly exclude as unmistakeably 
the work of later rhapsodists. Even the reverent Commentator whom I follow 
ventures to remark once or twice: Ayam sloka prak shipta iti bahavah, "This 
sloka or verse is in the opinion of many interpolated." 



1688 The Ramayana 

They ran to Ravan in his hall 

And told him of his brother's fall: 

"Fierce as the God who rules the dead, 

Upon the routed foe he fed; 

And, victor for a while, at length 

Fell slain by Rama's matchless strength. 

Now like a mighty hill in size 

His mangled trunk extended lies, 

And where he fell, a bleeding mass, 

Blocks Lanka's gate that none may pass." 

The monarch heard: his strength gave way; 

And fainting on the ground he lay. 

Grieved at the giants' mournful tale, 

Long, shrill was Atikaya's wail; 

And Trisiras in sorrow bowed 

His triple head, and wept aloud. 

Mahodar, Mahaparsva shed 

Hot tears and mourned their brother dead. 

At length, his wandering sense restored, 

In loud lament cried Lanka's lord: 

"Ah chief, for might and valour famed, 

Whose arm the haughty foeman tamed, 

Forsaking me, thy friends and all, 

Why hast thou fled to Yama's hall? 

Why hast thou fled to taste no more 

The slaughtered foeman's flesh and gore? 

Ah me, my life is done to-day: 

My better arm is lopped away. 

Whereon in danger I relied, 

And, fearless, Gods and fiends defied. 

How could a shaft from Rama's bow 

The matchless giant overthrow, 

Whose iron frame so strong of yore 

The crushing bolt of Indra bore? 



Canto LXIX. Narantak's Death. 1689 

This day the Gods and sages meet 

And triumph at their foe's defeat. 

This day the Vanar chiefs will boast 

And, with new ardour fired, their host 

In fiercer onset will assail 

Our city, and the ramparts scale. 

What care I for a monarch's name, 

For empire, or the Maithil dame? 

What joy can power and riches give, 

Or life that I should care to live, 

Unless this arm in mortal fray 

The slayer of my brother slay? 

For me, of Kumbhakarna reft, 

Death is the only solace left; 

And I will seek, o'erwhelmed with woes, 

The realm to which my brother goes. 

Ah me ill-minded, not to take 

His counsel when Vibhishan spake 

When he this evil day foretold 

My foolish heart was overbold: 

I drove my sage adviser hence, 

And reap the fruits of mine offence." 



[479] 



Canto LXIX. Narantak's Death. 



1690 The Ramayana 

Pierced to the soul by sorrow's sting 
Thus wailed the evil-hearted king. 
Then Trisiras stood forth and cried: 
"Yea, father, he has fought and died, 
Our bravest: and the loss is sore: 
But rouse thee, and lament no more. 
Hast thou not still thy coat of mail, 
Thy bow and shafts which never fail? 
A thousand asses draw thy car 
Which roars like thunder heard afar. 
Thy valour and thy warrior skill, 
Thy God-given strength, are left thee still. 
Unarmed, thy matchless might subdued 
The Gods and Danav multitude. 
Armed with thy glorious weapons, how 
Shall Raghu's son oppose thee now? 
Or, sire, within thy palace stay; 
And I myself will sweep away 
Thy foes, like Garud when he makes 
A banquet of the writhing snakes. 
Soon Raghu's son shall press the plain, 
As Narak 984 fell by Vishnu slain, 
Or Sambar 985 in rebellious pride 
Who met the King of Gods 986 and died." 



The monarch heard: his courage grew, 
And life and spirit came anew. 
Devantak and Narantak heard, 
And their fierce souls with joy were stirred; 



984 Narak was a demon, son of Bhumi or Earth, who haunted the city Pragjy- 
otisha. 

Sam 

Indra. 



985 Sambar was a demon of drought. 



Canto LXIX. Narantak's Death. 1691 

And Atikaya 987 burned to fight, 
And heard the summons with delight; 
While from the rest loud rang the cry, 
"I too will fight," "and I," "and I." 

The joyous king his sons embraced, 
With gold and chains and jewels graced, 
And sent them forth with stirring speech 
Of benison and praise to each. 
Forth from the gate the princes sped 
And ranged for war the troops they led. 
The Vanar legions charged anew, 
And trees and rocks for missiles flew. 
They saw Narantak's mighty form 
Borne on a steed that mocked the storm. 
To check his charge in vain they strove: 
Straight through their host his way he clove, 
As springs a dolphin through the tide: 
And countless Vanars fell and died, 
And mangled limbs and corpses lay 
To mark the chiefs ensanguined way, 
Sugriva saw them fall or fly 
When fierce Narantak's steed was nigh, 
And marked the giant where he sped 
O'er heaps of dying or of dead. 
He bade the royal Angad face 
That bravest chief of giant race. 
As springs the sun from clouds dispersed, 
So Angad from the Vanars burst. 
No weapon for the fight he bore 
Save nails and teeth, and sought no more. 
"Leave, giant chieftain," thus he spoke, 



187 Devantak (Slayer of Gods) Narantak (Slayer of Men) Atikaya (Huge of 
Frame) and Trisiras (Three Headed) were all sons of Ravan. 



1692 The Ramayana 

"Leave foes unworthy of thy stroke, 
And bend against a nobler heart 
The terrors of thy deadly dart." 



Narantak heard the words he spake: 
Fast breathing, like an angry snake, 
With bloody teeth his lips he pressed 
And hurled his dart at Angad's breast. 
True was the aim and fierce the stroke, 
Yet on his breast the missile broke. 
Then Angad at the giant flew, 
And with a blow his courser slew: 
The fierce hand crushed through flesh and bone, 
And steed and rider fell o'erthrown. 
Narantak's eyes with fury blazed: 
His heavy hand on high he raised 
And struck in savage wrath the head 
Of Bali's son, who reeled and bled, 
Fainted a moment and no more: 
Then stronger, fiercer than before 
Smote with that fist which naught could stay, 
And crushed to death the giant lay. 



Canto LXX. The Death Of Trisiras. 



Canto LXX. The Death Of Trisiras. 1693 

Then raged the Rakshas chiefs, and all 

Burned to avenge Narantak's fall. 

Devantak raised his club on high 

And rushed at Angad with a cry. 

Behind came Trisiras, and near 

Mahodar charged with levelled spear. 

There Angad stood to fight with three: 

High o'er his head he waved a tree, 

And at Devantak, swift and true 

As Indra's flaming bolt, it flew. 

But, cut by giant shafts in twain, 

With minished force it flew in vain. 

A shower of trees and blocks of stone 

From Angad's hand was fiercely thrown; 

But well his club Devantak plied 

And turned each rock and tree aside. 

Nor yet, by three such foes assailed, [480] 

The heart of Angad sank or quailed. 

He slew the mighty beast that bore 

Mahodar: from his head he tore 

A bleeding tusk, and blow on blow 

Fell fiercely on his Rakshas foe. 

The giant reeled, but strength regained, 

And furious strokes on Angad rained, 

Who, wounded by the storm of blows, 

Sank on his knees, but swiftly rose. 

Then Trisiras, as up he sprang, 

Drew his great bow with awful clang, 

And fixed three arrows from his sheaf 

Full in the forehead of the chief. 

Hanuman saw, nor long delayed 

To speed with Nila to his aid, 

Who at the three-faced giant sent 

A peak from Lanka's mountain rent. 



1694 The Ramayana 

But Trisiras with certain aim 
Shot rapid arrows as it came: 
And shivered by their force it broke 
And fell to earth with flash and smoke. 
Then as the Wind-God's son came nigh, 
Devantak reared his mace on high. 
Hanuman smote him on the head 
And stretched the monstrous giant dead. 
Fierce Trisiras with fury strained 
His bow, and showers of arrows rained 
That smote on Nfla's side and chest: 
He sank a moment, sore distressed; 
But quickly gathered strength to seize 
A mountain with its crown of trees. 
Crushed by the hill, distained with gore, 
Mahodar fell to rise no more. 

Then Trisiras raised high his spear 
Which chilled the trembling foe with fear 
And, like a flashing meteor through 
The air at Hanuman it flew. 
The Vanar shunned the threatened stroke, 
And with strong hands the weapon broke. 
The giant drew his glittering blade: 
Dire was the wound the weapon made 
Deep in the Vanar's ample chest, 
Who, for a moment sore oppressed, 
Raised his broad hand, regaining might, 
And struck the rover of the night. 
Fierce was the blow: with one wild yell 
Low on the earth the monster fell. 
Hanuman seized his fallen sword 
Which served no more its senseless lord, 
And from the monster triple-necked 



Canto LXXI. Atikaya's Death. 1695 

Smote his huge heads with crowns bedecked. 

Then Mahaparsva burned with ire; 

Fierce flashed his eyes with vengeful fire. 

A moment on the dead he gazed, 

Then his black mace aloft was raised, 

And down the mass of iron came 

That struck and shook the Vanar's frame. 

Hanuman's chest was wellnigh crushed, 

And from his mouth red torrents gushed: 

Yet served one instant to restore 

His spirit: from the foe he tore 

His awful mace, and smote, and laid 

The giant in the dust dismayed. 

Crushed were his jaws and teeth and eyes: 

Breathless and still he lay as lies 

A summit from a mountain rent 

By him who rules the firmament. 



Canto LXXI. Atikaya's Death. 



But Atikaya's wrath grew high 
To see his noblest kinsmen die. 
He, fiercest of the giant race, 
Presuming still on Brahma's grace; 
Proud tamer of the Immortals' pride, 
Whose power and might with Indra's vied, 
For blood and vengeful carnage burned, 
And on the foe his fury turned. 
High on a car that flashed and glowed 
Bright as a thousand suns he rode. 
Around his princely brows was set 



1696 The Ramayana 

A rich bejewelled coronet. 

Gold pendants in his ears he wore; 

He strained and tried the bow he bore, 

And ever, as a shaft he aimed, 

His name and royal race proclaimed. 

Scarce might the Vanars brook to hear 

His clanging bow and voice of fear: 

To Raghu's elder son they fled, 

Their sure defence in woe and dread. 

Then Rama bent his eyes afar 

And saw the giant in his car 

Fast following the flying crowd 

And roaring like a rainy cloud. 

He, with the lust of battle fired, 

Turned to Vibhishan and inquired: 

"Say, who is this, of mountain size, 

This archer with the lion eyes? 

His car, which strikes our host with awe, 

A thousand eager coursers draw. 

Surrounded by the flashing spears 

Which line his car, the chief appears 

Like some huge cloud when lightnings play 

About it on a stormy day; 

And the great bow he joys to hold 

Whose bended back is bright with gold, 

As Indra's bow makes glad the skies, 

That best of chariots glorifies. 

O see the sunlike splendour flung 

From the great flag above him hung, 

Where, blazoned with refulgent lines, 

Rahu 988 the dreadful Dragon shines. 

Full thirty quivers near his side, 



988 The demon of eclipse who seizes the Sun and Moon. 



Canto LXXI. Atikaya's Death. 1697 

His car with shafts is well supplied: [481] 

And flashing like the light of stars 
Gleam his two mighty scimitars. 
Say, best of giants, who is he 
Before whose face the Vanars flee?" 

Thus Rama spake. Vibhishan eyed 
The giants' chief, and thus replied: 
"This Rama, this is Ravan's son: 
High fame his youthful might has won. 
He, best of warriors, bows his ear 
The wisdom of the wise to hear. 
Supreme is he mid those who know 
The mastery of sword and bow. 
Unrivalled in the bold attack 
On elephant's or courser's back, 
He knows, beside, each subtler art, 
To win the foe, to bribe, or part. 
On him the giant hosts rely, 
And fear no ill when he is nigh. 
This peerless chieftain bears the name 
Of Atikaya huge of frame, 
Whom Dhanyamalini of yore 
To Ravan lord of Lanka bore." 

Roused by his bow-string's awful clang, 
To meet their foes the Vanars sprang. 
Armed with tall trees from Lanka's wood, 
And rocks and mountain peaks, they stood. 
The giant's arrows, gold-bedecked, 
The storm of hurtling missiles checked; 
And ever on his foemen poured 
Fierce tempest from his clanging cord; 
Nor could the Vanar chiefs sustain 



1698 The Ramayana 

His shafts' intolerable rain. 

They fled: the victor gained the place 

Where stood the lord of Raghu's race, 

And cried with voice of thunder: "Lo, 

Borne on my car, with shaft and bow, 

I, champion of the giants, scorn 

To fight with weaklings humbly born. 

Come forth your bravest, if he dare, 

And fight with one who will not spare." 

Forth sprang Sumitra's noble child, 989 
And strained his ready bow, and smiled; 
And giants trembled as the clang 
Through heaven and earth reechoing rang. 
The giant to his string applied 
A pointed shaft, and proudly cried; 
"Turn, turn, Sumitra's son and fly, 
For terrible as Death am I. 
Fly, nor that youthful form oppose, 
Untrained in war, to warriors' blows. 
What! wilt thou waste thy childish breath 
And wake the dormant fire of death? 
Cast down, rash boy, that useless bow: 
Preserve thy life, uninjured go." 

He ceased: and stirred by wrath & pride 
Sumitra's noble son replied: 
"By warlike deed, not words alone, 
The valour of the brave is shown. 
Cease with vain boasts my scorn to move, 
And with thine arm thy prowess prove. 
Borne on thy car, with sword and bow, 
With all thine arms, thy valour show. 



Lakshman. 



Canto LXXI. Atikaya's Death. 1699 

Fight, and my deadly shafts this day 
Low in the dust thy head shall lay, 
And, rushing fast in ceaseless flood, 
Shall rend thy flesh and drink thy blood." 

His giant foe no answer made, 
But on his string an arrow laid. 
He raised his arm, the cord he drew, 
At Lakshman's breast the arrow flew. 
Sumitra's son, his foemen's dread, 
Shot a fleet shaft with crescent head, 
Which cleft that arrow pointed well, 
And harmless to the earth it fell. 
A shower of shafts from Lakshman's bow 
Fell fast and furious on the foe 
Who quailed not as the missiles smote 
With idle force his iron coat. 
Then came the friendly Wind-God near, 
And whispered thus in Lakshman's ear: 
"Such shafts as these in vain assail 
Thy foe's impenetrable mail. 
A more tremendous missile try, 
Or never may the giant die. 
Employ the mighty spell, and aim 
The weapon known by Brahma's name." 
He ceased; Sumitra's son obeyed: 
On his great bow the shaft was laid, 
And with a roar like thunder, true 
As Indra's flashing bolt, it flew. 
The giant poured his shafts like rain 
To check its course, but all in vain. 
With spear and mace and sword he tried 
To turn the fiery dart aside. 
Winged with a force which naught could check, 



1700 The Ramayana 

It smote the monster in the neck, 

And, sundered from his shoulders, rolled 

To earth his head and helm of gold. 



Canto LXXII. Ravan's Speech. 

The giants bent, in rage and grief, 
Their eyes upon the fallen chief: 
Then flying wild with fear and pale 
To Ravan bore the mournful tale. 
He heard how Atikaya died, 
Then turned him to his lords, and cried: 
"Where are they now — my bravest — where, 
Wise to consult and prompt to dare? 
Where is Dhumraksha, skilled to wield 
All weapons in the battle field? 
Akampan, and Prahasta's might, 
And Kumbhakarna bold in fight? 
These, these and many a Rakshas more, 
[482] Each master of the arms he bore, 

Who every foe in fight o'erthrew, 
The victors none could e'er subdue, 
Have perished by the might of one, 
The vengeful arm of Raghu's son. 
In vain I cast mine eyes around, 
No match for Rama here is found, 
No chief to stand before that bow 
Whose deadly shafts have caused our woe. 
Now, warriors, to your stations hence; 
Provide ye for the wall's defence, 
And be the Asoka garden, where 



Canto LXXIII. Indrajit's Victory. 1701 

The lady lies, your special care. 

Be every lane and passage barred, 

Set at each gate a chosen guard. 

And with your troops, where danger calls, 

Be ready to defend the walls. 

Each movement of the Vanars mark; 

Observe them when the skies grow dark; 

Be ready in the dead of night, 

And ere the morning bring the light. 

Taught by our loss we may not scorn 

These legions of the forest-born." 

He ceased: the Rakshas lords obeyed; 
Each at his post his troops arrayed: 
And, torn with pangs that pierced him through 
The monarch from the hall withdrew. 



Canto LXXIII. Indrajit's Victory. 



But Indrajit the fierce and bold 

With words like these his sire consoled: 

"Dismiss, O King, thy grief and dread, 

And be not thus disquieted. 

Against this numbing sorrow strive, 

For Indrajit is yet alive; 

And none in battle may withstand 

The fury of his strong right hand. 

This day, O sire, thine eyes shall see 

The sons of Raghu slain by me." 



1702 The Ramayana 

He ceased: he bade the king farewell: 
Clear, mid the roar of drum and shell, 
The clash of sword and harness rang 
As to his car the warrior sprang. 
Close followed by his Rakshas train 
Through Lanka's gate he reached the plain. 
Then down he leapt, and bade a band 
Of giants by the chariot stand: 
Then with due rites, as rules require, 
Did worship to the Lord of Fire. 
The sacred oil, as texts ordain, 
With wreaths of scented flowers and grain, 
Within the flame in order due, 
That mightiest of the giants threw. 
There on the ground were spear and blade, 
And arrowy leaves and fuel laid; 
An iron ladle deep and wide, 
And robes with sanguine colours dyed. 
Beside him stood a sable goat: 
The giant seized it by the throat, 
And straight from the consuming flame 
Auspicious signs of victory came. 
For swiftly, curling to the right, 
The fire leapt up with willing light 
Undimmed by smoky cloud, and, red 
Like gold, upon the offering fed. 
They brought him, while the flame yet glowed, 
The dart by Brahma's grace bestowed, 
And all the arms he wielded well 
Were charmed with text and holy spell. 

Then fiercer for the fight he burned, 
And at the foe his chariot turned, 
While all his followers lifting high 



Canto LXXIII. Indrajft's Victory. 1703 

Their maces charged with furious cry. 
Dire, yet more dire the battle grew, 
As rocks and trees and arrows flew. 
The giant shot his shafts like rain, 
And Vanars fell in myriads slain, 
Sugriva, Angad, Nila felt 
The wounds his hurtling arrows dealt. 
His shafts the blood of Gaya drank; 
Hanuman reeled and Mainda sank. 
Bright as the glances of the sun 
Came the swift darts they could not shun. 
Caught in the arrowy nets he wove, 
In vain the sons of Raghu strove; 
And Rama, by the darts oppressed, 
His brother chieftain thus addressed: 
"See, first this giant warrior sends 
Destruction, mid our Vanar friends, 
And now his arrows thick and fast 
Their binding net around us cast. 
To Brahma's grace the chieftain owes 
The matchless power and might he shows; 
And mortal strength in vain contends 
With him whom Brahma's self befriends. 
Then let us still with dauntless hearts 
Endure this storm of pelting darts. 
Soon must we sink bereaved of sense; 
And then the victor, hurrying hence, 
Will seek his father in his hall 
And tell him of his foemen's fall." 
He ceased: o'erpowered by shaft and spell 
The sons of Raghu reeled and fell. 
The Rakshas on their bodies gazed; 
And, mid the shouts his followers raised, 
Sped back to Lanka to relate 



1704 The Ramayana 

In Ravan's hall the princes' fate. 

Canto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs. 

The shades of falling night concealed 
[483] The carnage of the battle field, 

Which, bearing each a blazing brand, 
Haniiman and Vibhishan scanned, 
Moving with slow and anxious tread 
Among the dying and the dead. 
Sad was the scene of slaughter shown 
Where'er the torches' light was thrown. 
Here mountain forms of Vanars lay 
Whose heads and limbs were lopped away, 
Arms, legs and fingers strewed the ground, 
And severed heads lay thick around. 
The earth was moist with sanguine streams, 
And sighs were heard and groans and screams. 
There lay Sugriva still and cold, 
There Angad, once so brave and bold. 
There Jambavan his might reposed, 
There VegadarsTs eyes were closed; 
There in the dust was Nala's pride, 
And Dwivid lay by Mainda's side. 
Where'er they looked the ensanguined plain 
Was strewn with myriads of the slain; 990 
They sought with keenly searching eyes 
King Jambavan supremely wise. 



990 In such cases as this I am not careful to reproduce the numbers of the poet, 
which in the text which I follow are 670000000; the Bengal recension being 
content with thirty million less. 



Canto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs. 1705 

His strength had failed by slow decay, 
And pierced with countless shafts he lay. 
They saw, and hastened to his side, 
And thus the sage Vibhishan cried: 
"Thee, monarch of the bears, we seek: 
Speak if thou yet art living, speak." 

Slow came the aged chiefs reply; 
Scarce could he say with many a sigh: 
"Torn with keen shafts which pierce each limb, 
My strength is gone, my sight is dim; 
Yet though I scarce can raise mine eyes, 
Thy voice, O chief, I recognize. 
O, while these ears can hear thee, say, 
Has Hanuman survived this day?" 

"Why ask," Vibhishan cried, "for one 
Of lower rank, the Wind-God's son? 
Hast thou forgotten, first in place, 
The princely chief of Raghu's race? 
Can King Sugriva claim no care, 
And Angad, his imperial heir?" 

"Yea, dearer than my noblest friends 
Is he on whom our hope depends. 
For if the Wind-God's son survive, 
All we though dead are yet alive. 
But if his precious life be fled 
Though living still we are but dead: 
He is our hope and sure relief." 
Thus slowly spoke the aged chief: 
Then to his side Hanuman came, 
And with low reverence named his name. 
Cheered by the face he longed to view 
The wounded chieftain lived anew. 



1706 The Ramayana 

"Go forth," he cried, "O strong and brave, 
And in their woe the Vanars save. 
No might but thine, supremely great, 
May help us in our lost estate. 
The trembling bears and Vanars cheer, 
Calm their sad hearts, dispel their fear. 
Save Raghu's noble sons, and heal 
The deep wounds of the winged steel. 
High o'er the waters of the sea 
To far Himalaya's summits flee. 
Kailasa there wilt thou behold, 
And Rishabh, with his peaks of gold. 
Between them see a mountain rise 
Whose splendour will enchant thine eyes; 
His sides are clothed above, below, 
With all the rarest herbs that grow. 
Upon that mountain's lofty crest 
Four plants, of sovereign powers possessed, 
Spring from the soil, and flashing there 
Shed radiance through the neighbouring air. 
One draws the shaft: one brings again 
The breath of life to warm the slain; 
One heals each wound; one gives anew 
To faded cheeks their wonted hue. 
Fly, chieftain, to that mountain's brow 
And bring those herbs to save us now." 

Hanuman heard, and springing through 
The air like Vishnu's discus 991 flew. 
The sea was passed: beneath him, gay 
With bright-winged birds, the mountains lay, 
And brook and lake and lonely glen, 



The discus or quoit, a sharp-edged circular missile is the favourite weapon 
of Vishnu. 



Canto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs. 1707 

And fertile lands with toiling men. 

On, on he sped: before him rose 

The mansion of perennial snows. 

There soared the glorious peaks as fair 

As white clouds in the summer air. 

Here, bursting from the leafy shade, 

In thunder leapt the wild cascade. 

He looked on many a pure retreat 

Dear to the Gods' and sages' feet: 

The spot where Brahma dwells apart, 

The place whence Rudra launched his dart; 992 

Vishnu's high seat and Indra's home, 

And slopes where Yama's servants roam. 

There was Kuvera's bright abode; 

There Brahma's mystic weapon glowed. 

There was the noble hill whereon [484] 

Those herbs with wondrous lustre shone, 

And, ravished by the glorious sight, 

Hanuman rested on the height. 

He, moving down the glittering peak, 

The healing herbs began to seek: 

But, when he thought to seize the prize, 

They hid them from his eager eyes. 

Then to the hill in wrath he spake: 

"Mine arm this day shall vengeance take, 

If thou wilt feel no pity, none, 

In this great need of Raghu's son." 

He ceased: his mighty arms he bent 

And from the trembling mountain rent 

His huge head with the life it bore, 

Snakes, elephants, and golden ore. 



992 To destroy Tripura the triple city in the sky, air and earth, built by Maya for 
a celebrated Asur or demon, or as another commentator explains, to destroy 
Kandarpa or Love. 



1708 The Ramayana 

O'er hill and plain and watery waste 
His rapid way again he traced. 
And mid the wondering Vanars laid 
His burthen through the air conveyed, 
The wondrous herbs' delightful scent 
To all the host new vigour lent. 
Free from all darts and wounds and pain 
The sons of Raghu lived again, 
And dead and dying Vanars healed 
Rose vigorous from the battle field. 



Canto LXXV. The Night Attack. 



Sugriva spake in words like these: 
"Now, Vanar lords, the occasion seize. 
For now, of sons and brothers reft, 
To Ravan little hope is left: 
And if our host his gates assail 
His weak defence will surely fail." 



Canto LXXV. The Night Attack. 1709 

At dead of night the Vanar bands 
Rushed on with torches in their hands. 
Scared by the coming of the host 
Each giant warder left his post. 
Where'er the Vanar legions came 
Their way was marked with hostile flame 
That spread in fury to devour 
Palace and temple, gate and tower. 
Down came the walls and porches, down 
Came stately piles that graced the town. 
In many a house the fire was red, 
On sandal wood and aloe fed. 
And scorching flames in billows rolled 
O'er diamonds and pearls and gold. 
On cloth of wool, on silk brocade, 
On linen robes their fury preyed. 
Wheels, poles and yokes were burned, and all 
The coursers' harness in the stall; 
And elephants' and chariots' gear, 
The sword, the buckler, and the spear. 
Scared by the crash of falling beams, 
Mid lamentations, groans and screams, 
Forth rushed the giants through the flames 
And with them dragged bewildered dames, 
Each, with o'erwhelming terror wild, 
Still clasping to her breast a child. 
The swift fire from a cloud of smoke 
Through many a gilded lattice broke, 
And, melting pearl and coral, rose 
O'er balconies and porticoes. 
The startled crane and peacock screamed 
As with strange light the courtyard gleamed, 
And fierce unusual glare was thrown 
On shrinking wood and heated stone. 



1710 The Ramay ana 

From burning stall and stable freed 
Rushed frantic elephant and steed, 
And goaded by the driving blaze 
Fled wildly through the crowded ways. 
As earth with fervent heat will glow 
When comes her final overthrow; 
From gate to gate, from court to spire 
Proud Lanka was one blaze of fire, 
And every headland, rock and bay 
Shone bright a hundred leagues away. 
Forth, blinded by the heat and flame 
Ran countless giants huge of frame; 
And, mustering for fierce attack, 
The Vanars charged to drive them back, 
While shout and scream and roar and cry 
Reechoed through the earth and sky. 
There Rama stood with strength renewed, 
And ever, as the foe he viewed, 
Shaking the distant regions rang 
His mighty bow's tremendous clang. 
Then through the gates Nikumbha hied, 
And Kumbha by his brother's side, 
Sent forth — the bravest and the best — 
To battle by the king's behest. 
There fought the chiefs in open field, 
And Angad fell and Dwivid reeled. 
Sugriva saw: by rage impelled 
He crushed the bow which Kumbha held. 
About his foe Sugriva wound 
His arms, and, heaving from the ground 
The giant hurled him o'er the bank; 
And deep beneath the sea he sank. 
Like mandar hill with furious swell 
Up leapt the waters where he fell. 



Canto LXXV. The Night Attack. 1711 

Again he rose: he sprang to land 

And raised on high his threatening hand: 

Full on Sugriva's chest it came 

And shook the Vanar' s massy frame, 

But on the wounded bone he broke 

His wrist — so furious was the stroke. 

With force that naught could stay or check, 

Sugriva smote him neath the neck. 

The fierce blow crashed through flesh and bone 

And Kumbha lay in death o'erthrown. 

Nikumbha saw his brother die, 

And red with fury flashed his eye. 

He dashed with mighty sway and swing [485] 

His axe against the Vanar king; 

But shattered on that living rock 

It split in fragments at the shock. 

Sugriva, rising to the blow, 

Raised his huge hand and smote his foe. 

And in the dust the giant lay 

Gasping in blood his soul away. 

[I have briefly despatched Kumbha and Nikumbha, each of whom 
has in the text a long Canto to himself. When they fall Ravan 
sends forth Makaraksha or Crocodile-Eye, the son of Khara who 
was slain by Rama in the forest before the abduction of Sita. 
The account of his sallying forth, of his battle with Rama and 
of his death by the fiery dart of that hero occupies two Cantos 
which I entirely pass over. Indrajit again comes forth and, ren- 
dered invisible by his magic art slays countless Vanars with his 
unerring arrows. He retires to the city and returns bearing in his 
chariot an effigy of Sita, the work of magic, weeping and wailing 
by his side. He grasps the lovely image by the hair and cuts 
it down with his scimitar in the sight of the enraged Hanuman 
and all the Vanar host. At last after much fighting of the usual 
kind Indrajit's chariot is broken in pieces, his charioteer is slain, 



1712 The Ramay ana 

and he himself falls by Lakshman's hand, to the inexpressible 
delight of the high-souled saints, the nymphs of heaven and other 
celestial beings.] 



Canto XCIII. Ravan's Lament. 



They sought the king, a mournful train, 
And cried, "My lord, thy son is slain. 
By Lakshman's hand, before these eyes, 
The warrior fell no more to rise. 
No time is this for vain regret: 
Thy hero son a hero met; 
And he whose might in battle pressed 
Lord Indra and the Gods confessed, 
Whose power was stranger to defeat, 
Has gained in heaven a blissful seat." 

The monarch heard the mournful tale: 
His heart was faint, his cheek was pale; 
His fleeting sense at length regained, 
In trembling tones he thus complained: 
"Ah me, my son, my pride: the boast 
And glory of the giant host. 
Could Lakshman's puny might defeat 
The foe whom Indra feared to meet? 
Could not thy deadly arrows split 
Proud Mandar's peaks, O Indrajit, 
And the Destroyer's self destroy? 
And wast thou conquered by a boy? 
I will not weep: thy noble deed 
Has blessed thee with immortal meed 



Canto XCIII. Ravan's Lament. 1713 

Gained by each hero in the skies 
Who fighting for his sovereign dies. 
Now, fearless of all meaner foes, 
The guardian Gods 993 will taste repose: 
But earth to me, with hill and plain, 
Is desolate, for thou art slain. 
Ah, whither hast thou fled, and left 
Thy mother, Lanka, me bereft; 
Left pride and state and wives behind, 
And lordship over all thy kind? 
I fondly hoped thy hand should pay 
Due honours on my dying day: 
And couldst thou, O beloved, flee 
And leave thy funeral rites to me? 
Life has no comfort left me, none, 
O Indrajit my son, my son." 



Thus wailed he broken by his woes: 
But swift the thought of vengeance rose. 
In awful wrath his teeth he gnashed, 
And from his eyes red lightning flashed. 
Hot from his mouth came fire and smoke, 
As thus the king in fury spoke: 



993 The Lokapalas are sometimes regarded as deities appointed by Brahma at 
the creation of the word to act as guardians of different orders of beings, but 
more commonly they are identified with the deities presiding over the four 
cardinal and four intermediate points of the compass, which, according to 
Manu V. 96, are 1, Indra, guardian of the East; 2, Agni, of the South-east; 
3, Yama, of the South; 4, Surya, of the South-west; 5, Varuna, of the West; 
6, Pavana or Vayu, of the North-west; 7, Kuvera, of the North; 8, Soma or 
Chandra, of the North-east. 



1714 The Ramayana 

"Through many a thousand years of yore 
The penance and the pain I bore, 
And by fierce torment well sustained 
The highest grace of Brahma gained, 
His plighted word my life assured, 
From Gods of heaven and fiends secured. 
He armed my limbs with burnished mail 
Whose lustre turns the sunbeams pale, 
In battle proof gainst heavenly bands 
With thunder in their threatening hands. 
Armed in this mail myself will go 
With Brahma's gift my deadly bow, 
And, cleaving through the foes my way, 
The slayers of my son will slay." 

Then, by his grief to frenzy wrought, 
The captive in the grove he sought. 
Swift through the shady path he sped: 
Earth trembled at his furious tread. 
Fierce were his eyes: his monstrous hand 
[486] Held drawn for death his glittering brand. 

There weeping stood the Maithil dame: 
She shuddered as the giant came. 
Near drew the rover of the night 
And raised his sword in act to smite; 
But, by his nobler heart impelled, 
One Rakshas lord his arm withheld: 
"Wilt thou, great Monarch," thus he cried, 
"Wilt thou, to heavenly Gods allied, 
Blot for all time thy glorious fame, 
The slayer of a gentle dame? 
What! shall a woman's blood be spilt 
To stain thee with eternal guilt, 
Thee deep in all the Veda's lore? 



Canto XCVI. Ravan's Sally. 1715 

Far be the thought for evermore. 
Ah look, and let her lovely face 
This fury from thy bosom chase." 

He ceased: the prudent counsel pleased 
The monarch, and his wrath appeased; 
Then to his council hall in haste 
The giant lord his steps retraced. 

[I omit two Cantos in the first of which Rama with an enchanted 
Gandharva weapon deals destruction among the Rakshases sent 
out by Ravan, and in the second the Rakshas dames lament the 
slain and mourn over the madness of Ravan.] 



Canto XCVI. Ravan's Sally. 

The groans and cries of dames who wailed 
The ears of Lanka's lord assailed, 
For from each house and home was sent 
The voice of weeping and lament. 
In troubled thought his head he bowed, 
Then fiercely loosing on the crowd 
Of nobles near his throne he broke 
The silence, and in fury spoke: 
"This day my deadly shafts shall fly, 
And Raghu's sons shall surely die. 
This day shall countless Vanars bleed 
And dogs and kites and vultures feed. 
Go, bid them swift my car prepare, 
Bring the great bow I long to bear: 
And let my host with sword and shield 
And spear be ready for the field." 



1716 The Ramay ana 

From street to street the captains passed 
And Rakshas warriors gathered fast. 
With spear and sword to pierce and strike, 
And axe and club and mace and pike. 

[I omit several weapons for which I cannot find distinctive 
names, and among them the Sataghni or Centicide, supposed 
by some to be a kind of fire-arms or rocket, but described by a 
commentator on the Mahabharata as a stone or cylindrical piece 
of wood studded with iron spikes.] 

Then Ravan's warrior chariot 994 wrought 
With gold and rich inlay was brought. 
Mid tinkling bells and weapons' clang 
The monarch on the chariot sprang, 
Which, decked with gems of every hue, 
Eight steeds of noble lineage drew. 
Mid roars of drum and shell rang out 
From countless throats a joyful shout. 
As, girt with hosts in warlike pride, 
Through Lanka's streets the tyrant hied. 
Still, louder than the roar of drums, 
Went up the cry "He comes, he comes, 
Our ever conquering lord who trod 
Beneath his feet both fiend and God." 
On to the gate the warriors swept 
Where Raghu's sons their station kept. 
When Ravan's car the portal passed 
The sun in heaven was overcast. 
Earth rocked and reeled from side to side 
And birds with boding voices cried. 



994 The chariots of Ravan's present army are said to have been one hundred 
and fifty million in number with three hundred million elephants, and twelve 
hundred million horses and asses. The footmen are merely said to have been 
"unnumbered." 



Canto C. Ravan In The Field. 1717 

Against the standard of the king 

A vulture flapped his horrid wing. 

Big gouts of blood before him dropped, 

His trembling steeds in terror stopped. 

The hue of death was on his cheek, 

And scarce his flattering tongue could speak, 

When, terrible with flash and flame, 

Through murky air a meteor came. 

Still by the hand of Death impelled 

His onward way the giant held. 

The Vanars in the field afar 

Heard the loud thunder of his car. 

And turned with warriors' fierce delight 

To meet the giant in the fight. 

He came: his clanging bow he drew 

And myriads of the Vanars slew. 

Some through the side and heart he cleft, 

Some headless on the plain were left. 

Some struggling groaned with mangled thighs, 

Or broken arms or blinded eyes. 

[I omit Cantos XCVII, XCVIII, and XCIX, which describe in 
the usual way three single combats between Sugriva and Angad 
on the Vanar side and Virupaksha, Mahodar, and Mahaparsva on 
the side of the giants. The weapons of the Vanars are trees and 
rocks; the giants fight with swords, axes, and bows and arrows. 
The details are generally the same as those of preceding duels. 
The giants fall, one in each Canto.] 



[487] 



Canto C. Ravan In The Field. 



1718 The Ramay ana 

The plain with bleeding limbs was spread, 

And heaps of dying and of dead. 

His mighty bow still Rama strained, 

And shafts upon the giants rained. 

Still Angad and Sugriva, wrought 

To fury, for the Vanars fought. 

Crushed with huge rocks through chest and side 

Mahodar, Mahaparsva died, 

And Virupaksha stained with gore 

Dropped on the plain to rise no more. 

When Ravan saw the three o'erthrown 

He cried aloud in furious tone: 

"Urge, urge the car, my charioteer, 

The haughty Vanars' death is near. 

This very day shall end our griefs 

For leaguered town and slaughtered chiefs. 

Rama the tree whose lovely fruit 

Is Sita, shall this arm uproot, — 

Whose branches with protecting shade 

Are Vanar lords who lend him aid." 

Thus cried the king: the welkin rang 
As forth the eager coursers sprang, 
And earth beneath the chariot shook 
With flowery grove and hill and brook. 
Fast rained his shafts: where'er he sped 
The conquered Vanars fell or fled, 
On rolled the car in swift career 
Till Raghu's noble sons were near. 
Then Rama looked upon the foe 
And strained and tried his sounding bow, 
Till earth and all the region rang 
Re-echoing to the awful clang. 
His bow the younger chieftain bent, 



Canto C. Ravan In The Field. 1719 

And shaft on shaft at Ravan sent. 

He shot: but Ravan little recked; 

Each arrow with his own he checked, 

And headless, baffled of its aim, 

To earth the harmless missile came; 

And Lakshman stayed his arm o'erpowered 

By the thick darts the giant showered. 

Fierce waxed the fight and fiercer yet, 

For Ravan now and Rama met, 

And each on other poured amain 

The tempest of his arrowy rain. 

While all the sky above was dark 

With missiles speeding to their mark 

Like clouds, with flashing lightning twined 

About them, hurried by the wind. 

Not fiercer was the wondrous fight 

When Vritra fell by Indra's might. 

All arts of war each foeman knew, 

And trained alike, his bowstring drew. 

Red-eyed with fury Lanka's king 

Pressed his huge fingers on the string, 

And fixed in Rama's brows a flight 

Of arrows winged with matchless flight. 

Still Raghu's son endured, and bore 

That crown of shafts though wounded sore. 

O'er a dire dart a spell he spoke 

With mystic power to aid the stroke. 

In vain upon the foe it smote 

Rebounding from the steelproof coat. 

The giant armed his bow anew, 

And wondrous weapons hissed and flew, 

Terrific, deadly, swift of flight, 

Beaked like the vulture and the kite, 

Or bearing heads of fearful make, 



1720 The Ramayana 

Of lion, tiger, wolf and snake. 995 
Then Rama, troubled by the storm 
Of flying darts in every form 
Shot by an arm that naught could tire, 
Launched at the foe his dart of fire, 
Which, sacred to the Lord of Flame, 
Burnt and consumed where'er it came. 
And many a blazing shaft beside 
The hero to his string applied. 
With fiery course of dazzling hue 
Swift to the mark each missile flew, 
Some flashing like a shooting star, 
Some as the tongues of lightning are; 
One like a brilliant plant, one 
In splendour like the morning sun. 
Where'er the shafts of Rama burned 
The giant's darts were foiled and turned. 
Far into space his weapons fled, 
But as they flew struck thousands dead. 



Canto CI. Lakshman's Fall. 



When Ravan saw his darts repelled, 
With double rage his bosom swelled. 
He summoned, wroth but undismayed, 
A mightier charm to lend its aid. 



995 It is not very easy to see the advantage of having arrows headed in the way 
mentioned. Fanciful names for war-engines and weapons derived from their 
resemblance to various animals are not confined to India. The "War-wolf was 
used by Edward I. at the siege of Brechin, the "Cat-house" and the "Sow" were 
used by Edward III. at the siege of Dunbar. 



Canto CI. Lakshman's Fall. 1721 

And, fierce as fire before the blast, 

A storm of missiles thick and fast, 

Spear, pike and javelin, mace and brand, 

Came hurtling from the giant's hand. 

But, mightier still, the arms employed 

By Raghu's son their force destroyed, 

And every dart fell dulled and spent 

By powers the bards of heaven had lent. 

With his huge mace Vibhishan slew 

The steeds that Ravan's chariot drew. [488] 

Then Ravan hurled in deadly ire 

A ponderous spear that flashed like fire: 

But Rama's arrows checked its way, 

And harmless on the earth it lay, 

The giant seized a mightier spear, 

Which Death himself would shun with fear. 

Vibhishan with the stroke had died, 

But Lakshman's hand his bowstring plied, 

And flying arrows thick as hail 

Smote fiercely on the giant's mail. 

Then Ravan turned his aim aside, 

On Lakshman looked and fiercely cried: 

"Thou, thou again my wrath hast braved, 

And from his death Vibhishan saved. 

Now in his stead this spear receive 

Whose deadly point thy heart shall cleave." 

He ceased: he hurled the mortal dart 
By Maya forged with magic art. 
The spear, with all his fury flung, 
Swift, flickering like a serpent's tongue, 
Adorned with many a tinkling bell, 
Smote Lakshman, and the hero fell. 
When Rama saw, he heaved a sigh, 



1722 The Ramayana 

A tear one moment dimmed his eye. 
But tender grief was soon repressed 
And thoughts of vengeance filled his breast. 
The air around him flashed and gleamed 
As from his bow the arrows streamed; 
And Lanka's lord, the foeman's dread, 
O'erwhelmed with terror turned and fled. 



Canto CII. Lakshman Healed. 



But Rama, pride of Raghu's race, 

Gazed tenderly on Lakshman's face, 

And, as the sight his spirit broke, 

Turned to Sushen and sadly spoke: 

"Where is my power and valour? how 

Shall I have heart for battle now, 

When dead before my weeping eyes 

My brother, noblest Lakshman, lies? 

My tears in blinding torrents flow, 

My hand unnerved has dropped my bow. 

The pangs of woe have blanched my cheek, 

My heart is sick, my strength is weak. 

Ah me, my brother! Ah, that I 

By Lakshman's side might sink and die: 

Life, war and conquest, all are vain 

If Lakshman lies in battle slain. 

Why will those eyes my glances shun? 

Hast thou no word of answer, none? 

Ah, is thy noble spirit flown 

And gone to other worlds alone? 

Couldst thou not let thy brother seek 



Canto CII. Lakshman Healed. 1723 

Those worlds with thee? O speak, O speak! 
Rise up once more, my brother, rise, 
Look on me with thy loving eyes. 
Were not thy steps beside me still 
In gloomy wood, on breezy hill? 
Did not thy gentle care assuage 
Thy brother's grief and fitful rage? 
Didst thou not all his troubles share, 
His guide and comfort in despair?" 



As Rama, vanquished, wept and sighed 
The Vanar chieftain thus replied: 
"Great Prince, unmanly thoughts dismiss, 
Nor yield thy soul to grief like this. 
In vain those burning tears are shed: 
Our glory Lakshman is not dead. 
Death on his brow no mark has set, 
Where beauty's lustre lingers yet. 
Clear is the skin, and tender hues 
Of lotus flowers his palms suffuse. 
O Rama, cheer thy trembling heart; 
Not thus do life and body part. 
Now, Hanuman, to thee I speak: 
Hie hence to tall Mahodaya's 996 peak 
Where herbs of sovereign virtue grow 
Which life and health and strength bestow 
Bring thou the leaves to balm his pain, 
And Lakshman shall be well again." 



996 Apparently a peak of the Himalaya chain. 



1724 The Ramayana 

He ceased: the Wind-God's son obeyed 
Swift through the clouds his way he made. 
He reached the hill, nor stayed to find 
The wondrous herbs of healing kind, 
From its broad base the mount he tore 
With all the shrubs and trees it bore, 
Sped through the clouds again and showed 
To wise Sushen his woody load. 997 
Sushen in wonder viewed the hill, 
And culled the sovereign salve of ill. 
Soon as the healing herb he found, 
The fragrant leaves he crushed and ground. 
Then over Lakshman's face he bent, 
Who, healed and strengthened by the scent 
Of that blest herb divinely sweet, 
Rose fresh and lusty on his feet. 



Canto CIII. Indra's Car. 



Then Raghu's son forgot his woe: 
Again he grasped his fallen bow 
And hurled at Lanka's lord amain 
[489] The tempest of his arrowy rain. 



997 This exploit of Hanuman is related with inordinate prolixity in the Bengal 
recension (Gortesio's text). Among other adventures he narrowly escapes being 
shot by Bharat as he passes over Nandigrama near Ayodhya. Hanuman stays 
Bharat in time, and gives him an account of what has befallen Rama and Sita 
in the forest and in Lanka. 



Canto CIII. Indra's Car. 1725 

Drawn by the steeds his lords had brought, 
Again the giant turned and fought. 
And drove his glittering chariot nigh 
As springs the Day-God through the sky. 
Then, as his sounding bow he bent, 
Like thunderbolts his shafts were sent, 
As when dark clouds in rain time shed 
Fierce torrents on a mountain's head. 
High on his car the giant rode, 
On foot the son of Raghu strode. 
The Gods from their celestial height 
Indignant saw the unequal fight. 
Then he whom heavenly hosts revere, 
Lord Indra, called his charioteer: 

"Haste, Matali," he cried, "descend; 
To Raghu's son my chariot lend. 
With cheering words the chief address; 
And all the Gods thy deed will bless." 

He bowed; he brought the glorious car 
Whose tinkling bells were heard afar; 
Fair as the sun of morning, bright 
With gold and pearl and lazulite. 
He yoked the steeds of tawny hue 
That swifter than the tempest flew. 
Then down the slope of heaven he hied 
And stayed the car by Rama's side. 
"Ascend, O Chief," he humbly cried, 
"The chariot which the Gods provide. 
The mighty bow of Indra see, 
Sent by the Gods who favour thee; 
Behold this coat of glittering mail, 
And spear and shafts which never fail." 



1726 The Ramayana 

Cheered by the grace the Immortals showed 
The chieftain on the chariot rode. 
Then as the car-borne warriors met 
The awful fight raged fiercer yet. 
Each shaft that Ravan shot became 
A serpent red with kindled flame, 
And round the limbs of Rama hung 
With fiery jaws and quivering tongue. 
But every serpent fled dismayed 
When Raghu's valiant son displayed 
The weapon of the Feathered King, 998 
And loosed his arrows from the string. 
But Ravan armed his bow anew, 
And showers of shafts at Rama flew, 
While the fierce king in swift career 
Smote with a dart the charioteer. 
An arrow shot by Ravan's hand 
Laid the proud banner on the sand, 
And Indra's steeds of heavenly strain 
Fell by the iron tempest slain. 
On Gods and spirits of the air 
Fell terror, trembling, and despair. 
The sea's white billows mounted high 
With froth and foam to drench the sky. 
The sun by lurid clouds was veiled, 
The friendly lights of heaven were paled; 
And, fiercely gleaming, fiery Mars 
Opposed the beams of gentler stars. 



998 As Garud the king of birds is the mortal enemy of serpents the weapon 
sacred to him is of course best calculated to destroy the serpent arrows of 
Ravan. 



Canto CVI. Glory To The Sun. 1727 

Then Rama's eyes with fury blazed 
As Indra's heavenly spear he raised. 
Loud rang the bells: the glistering head 
Bright flashes through the region shed. 
Down came the spear in swift descent: 
The giant's lance was crushed and bent. 
Then Ravan's horses brave and fleet 
Fell dead beneath his arrowy sleet. 
Fierce on his foeman Rama pressed, 
And gored with shafts his mighty breast. 
And spouting streams of crimson dyed 
The weary giant's limbs and side. 

[I omit Cantos CIV and CV in which the fight is renewed and 
Ravan severely reprimands his charioteer for timidity and want 
of confidence in his master's prowess, and orders him to charge 
straight at Rama on the next occasion.] 



Canto CVI. Glory To The Sun. 



There faint and bleeding fast, apart 
Stood Ravan raging in his heart. 
Then, moved with ruth for Rama's sake, 
Agastya 999 came and gently spake: 
"Bend, Rama, bend thy heart and ear 
The everlasting truth to hear 
Which all thy hopes through life will bless 
And crown thine arms with full success. 
The rising sun with golden rays, 



999 The celebrated saint who has on former occasions assisted Rama with his 
gifts and counsel. 



1728 The Ramayana 

Light of the worlds, adore and praise: 
The universal king, the lord 
By hosts of heaven and fiends adored. 
He tempers all with soft control, 
He is the Gods' diviner soul; 
And Gods above and fiends below 
And men to him their safety owe. 
He Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, he 
Each person of the glorious Three, 
Is every God whose praise we tell, 
The King of Heaven, 1000 the Lord of Hell: 1001 
Each God revered from times of old, 
[490] The Lord of War, 1002 the King of Gold: 1003 

Mahendra, Time and Death is he, 
The Moon, the Ruler of the Sea. 1004 
He hears our praise in every form, — 
The manes, 1005 Gods who ride the storm, 1006 
The As'vins, 1007 Manu, 1008 they who stand 
Round Indra, 1009 and the Sadhyas' 1010 band 
He is the air, and life and fire, 



1001 Yama. 

1002 Kartikeya. 

1003 



Kubera. 

1004 Varun. 

1005 The Pitris, forefathers or spirits of the dead, are of two kinds, either the 
spirits of the father, grandfathers and great-grandfathers of an individual or the 
progenitors of mankind generally, to both of whom obsequial worship is paid 
and oblations of food are presented. 

1006 The Maruts or Storm-Gods. 

1007 rpj^g jj eaven jy Twins, the Castor and Pollux of the Hindus. 

loos rpj^g ^ an p ar exce n ence ^ me representative man and father of the human 



race regarded also as God. 
The Vasus, a class of de 
.. 
A class of celestial beings who dwell between the earth and the sun. 



1009 rp^g y asus ^ a c i ass f deities originally personifications of natural phenom- 
ena. 

1010 



Canto CVI. Glory To The Sun. 1729 

The universal source and sire: 

He brings the seasons at his call, 

Creator, light, and nurse of all. 

His heavenly course he joys to run, 

Maker of Day, the golden sun. 

The steeds that whirl his car are seven, 1011 

The flaming steeds that flash through heaven. 

Lord of the sky, the conqueror parts 

The clouds of night with glistering darts. 

He, master of the Vedas' lore, 

Commands the clouds' collected store: 

He is the rivers' surest friend; 

He bids the rains, and they descend. 

Stars, planets, constellations own 

Their monarch of the golden throne. 

Lord of twelve forms, 1012 to thee I bow, 

Most glorious King of heaven art thou. 

Rama, he who pays aright 
Due worship to the Lord of Light 
Shall never fall oppressed by ill, 
But find a stay and comfort still. 
Adore with all thy heart and mind 
This God of Gods, to him resigned; 
And thou his saving power shalt know 
Victorious o'er thy giant foe." 

[This Canto does not appear in the Bengal recension. It comes in 
awkwardly and may I think be considered as an interpolation, but 

1 paraphrase a portion of it as a relief after so much fighting and 
carnage, and as an interesting glimpse of the monotheistic ideas 
which underlie the Hindu religion. The hymn does not readily 
lend itself to metrical translation, and I have not attempted here 



1011 The seven horses are supposed to symbolize the seven days of the week. 

1012 One for each month in the year. 



1730 The Ramayana 

to give a faithful rendering of the whole. A literal version of the 
text and the commentary given in the Calcutta edition will be 
found in the Additional Notes. 

A canto is here omitted. It contains fighting of the ordinary 
kind between Rama and Ravan, and a description of sights and 
sounds of evil omen foreboding the destruction of the giant.] 



Canto CVIII. The Battle. 



He spoke, and vanished: Rama raised 
His eyes with reverence meet, and praised 
The glorious Day-God full in view: 
Then armed him for the fight anew. 
Urged onward by his charioteer 
The giant's foaming steeds came near, 
And furious was the battle's din 
Where each resolved to die or win. 
The Rakshas host and Vanar bands 
Stood with their weapons in their hands, 
And watched in terror and dismay 
The fortune of the awful fray. 
The giant chief with rage inflamed 
His darts at Rama's pennon aimed; 
But when they touched the chariot made 
By heavenly hands their force was stayed. 
Then Rama's breast with fury swelled; 
He strained the mighty bow he held, 
And straight at Ravan's banner flew 
An arrow as the string he drew — 
A deadly arrow swift of flight, 
Like some huge snake ablaze with light, 



Canto CIX. The Battle. 1731 

Whose fury none might e'er repel, — 
And, split in twain, the standard fell. 
At Rama's steeds sharp arrows, hot 
With flames of fire, the giant shot. 
Unmoved the heavenly steeds sustained 
The furious shower the warrior rained, 
As though soft lotus tendrils smote 
Each haughty crest and glossy coat. 
Then volleyed swift by magic art, 
Tree, mountain peak and spear and dart, 
Trident and pike and club and mace 
Flew hurtling straight at Rama's face. 
But Rama with his steeds and car 
Escaped the storm which fell afar 
Where the strange missiles, as they rushed 
To earth, a thousand Vanars crushed. 



Canto CIX. The Battle. 



With wondrous power and might and skill 
The giant fought with Rama still. 
Each at his foe his chariot drove, 
And still for death or victory strove. 
The warriors' steeds together dashed, 
And pole with pole reechoing clashed. 
Then Rama launching dart on dart 
Made Ravan's coursers swerve and start. 
Nor was the lord of Lanka slow 
To rain his arrows on the foe, 



[491] 



1732 The Ramayana 

Who showed, by fiery points assailed, 
No trace of pain, nor shook nor quailed. 
Dense clouds of arrows Rama shot 
With that strong arm which rested not, 
And spear and mace and club and brand 
Fell in dire rain from Ravan's hand. 
The storm of missiles fiercely cast 
Stirred up the oceans with its blast, 
And Serpent-Gods and fiends who dwell 
Below were troubled by the swell. 
The earth with hill and plain and brook 
And grove and garden reeled and shook: 
The very sun grew cold and pale, 
And horror stilled the rising gale. 
God and Gandharva, sage and saint 
Cried out, with grief and terror faint: 
"O may the prince of Raghu's line 
Give peace to Brahmans and to kine, 
And, rescuing the worlds, o'erthrow 
The giant king our awful foe." 

Then to his deadly string the pride 
Of Raghu's race a shaft applied. 
Sharp as a serpent's venomed fang 
Straight to its mark the arrow sprang, 
And from the giant's body shred 
With trenchant steel the monstrous head. 
There might the triple world behold 
That severed head adorned with gold. 
But when all eyes were bent to view, 
Swift in its stead another grew. 
Again the shaft was pointed well: 
Again the head divided fell; 
But still as each to earth was cast 



Canto CX. Ravan's Death. 1733 

Another head succeeded fast. 

A hundred, bright with fiery flame, 

Fell low before the victor's aim, 

Yet Ravan by no sign betrayed 

That death was near or strength decayed. 

The doubtful fight he still maintained, 

And on the foe his missiles rained. 

In air, on earth, on plain, on hill, 

With awful might he battled still; 

And through the hours of night and day 

The conflict knew no pause or stay. 



Canto CX. Ravan's Death. 



Then Matali to Rama cried: 
"Let other arms the day decide. 
Why wilt thou strive with useless toil 
And see his might thy efforts foil? 
Launch at the foe thy dart whose fire 
Was kindled by the Almighty Sire." 
He ceased: and Raghu's son obeyed: 
Upon his string the hero laid 
An arrow, like a snake that hissed. 
Whose fiery flight had never missed: 
The arrow Saint Agastya gave 
And blessed the chieftain's life to save 
That dart the Eternal Father made 
The Monarch of the Gods to aid; 
By Brahma's self on him bestowed 
When forth to fight Lord Indra rode. 
'Twas feathered with the rushing wind; 



1734 The Ramayana 

The glowing sun and fire combined 

To the keen point their splendour lent; 

The shaft, ethereal element, 

By Meru's hill and Mandar, pride 

Of mountains, had its weight supplied. 

He laid it on the twisted cord, 

He turned the point at Lanka's lord, 

And swift the limb-dividing dart 

Pierced the huge chest and cleft the heart, 

And dead he fell upon the plain 

Like Vritra by the Thunderer slain. 

The Rakahas host when Ravan fell 

Sent forth a wild terrific yell, 

Then turned and fled, all hope resigned, 

Through Lanka's gates, nor looked behind. 

His voice each joyous Vanar raised, 

And Rama, conquering Rama, praised. 

Soft from celestial minstrels came 

The sound of music and acclaim. 

Soft, fresh, and cool, a rising breeze 

Brought odours from the heavenly trees, 

And ravishing the sight and smell 

A wondrous rain of blossoms fell: 

And voices breathed round Raghu's son: 

"Champion of Gods, well done, well done." 



Canto CXI. Vibhishan's Lament. 



Canto CXI. Vibhishan's Lament. 1735 

Vibhishan saw his brother slain, 

Nor could his heart its woe contain. 

O'er the dead king he sadly bent 

And mourned him with a loud lament: 

"O hero, bold and brave," he cried, 

"Skilled in all arms, in battle tried. 

Spoiled of thy crown, with limbs outspread, [492] 

Why wilt thou press thy gory bed? 

Why slumber on the earth's cold breast, 

When sumptuous couches woo to rest? 

Ah me, my brother over bold, 

Thine is the fate my heart foretold: 

But love and pride forbade to hear 

The friend who blamed thy wild career. 

Fallen is the sun who gave us light, 

Our lordly moon is veiled in night. 

Our beacon fire is dead and cold 

A hundred waves have o'er it rolled. 

What could his light and fire avail 

Against Lord Rama's arrowy hail? 

Woe for the giants' royal tree, 

Whose stately height was fair to see. 

His buds were deeds of kingly grace, 

His bloom the sons who decked his race. 

With rifled bloom and mangled bough 

The royal tree lies prostrate now." 

"Nay, idly mourn not," Rama cried, 

"The warrior king has nobly died, 

Intrepid hero, firm through all, 

So fell he as the brave should fall; 

And ill beseems it chiefs like us 

To weep for those who perish thus. 

Be firm: thy causeless grief restrain, 

And pay the dues that yet remain." 



1736 The Ramayana 

Again Vibhishan sadly spoke: 
"His was the hero arm that broke 
Embattled Gods' and Indra's might, 
Unconquered ere to-day in fight. 
He rushed against thee, fought and fell, 
As Ocean, when his waters swell, 
Hurling his might against a rock, 
Falls spent and shattered by the shock. 
Woe for our king's untimely end, 
The generous lord the trusty friend: 
Our sure defence when fear arose, 
A dreaded scourge to stubborn foes. 
O, let the king thy hand has slain 
The honours of the dead obtain." 

Then Rama answered. "Hatred dies 
When low in dust the foeman lies. 
Now triumph bids the conflict cease, 
And knits us in the bonds of peace. 
Let funeral rites be duly paid. 
And be it mine thy toil to aid." 



Canto CXII. The Rakshas Dames. 



High rose the universal wail 
That mourned the monarch's death, and, pale 
With crushing woe, her hair unbound, 
Her eyes in floods of sorrow drowned, 
Forth from the inner chambers came 
With trembling feet each royal dame, 
Heedless of those who bade them stay 



Canto CXIII. Mandodarfs Lament. 1737 

They reached the field where Ravan lay; 
There falling by their husband's side, 
"Ah, King! ah dearest lord!" they cried. 
Like creepers shattered by the storm 
They threw them on his mangled form. 
One to his bleeding bosom crept 
And lifted up her voice and wept. 
About his feet one mourner clung, 
Around his neck another hung, 
One on the giant's severed head, 
Her pearly tears in torrents shed 
Fast as the drops the summer shower 
Pours down upon the lotus flower. 
"Ah, he whose arm in anger reared 
The King of Gods and Yama feared, 
While panic struck their heavenly train, 
Lies prostrate in the battle slain. 
Thy haughty heart thou wouldst not bend, 
Nor listen to each wiser friend. 
Ah, had the dame, as they implored, 
Been yielded to her injured lord, 
We had not mourned this day thy fall, 
And happy had it been for all. 
Then Rama and thy friends content 
In blissful peace their days had spent. 
Thine injured brother had not fled, 
Nor giant chiefs and Vanars bled. 
Yet for these woes we will not blame. 
Thy fancy for the Maithil dame, 
Fate, ruthless Fate, whom none may bend 
Has urged thee to thy hapless end." 



1738 The Ramayana 

Canto CXIII. Mandodarf s Lament. 

While thus they wept, supreme in place, 
The loveliest for form and face, 
Mandodarf drew near alone, 
Looked on her lord and made her moan: 
"Ah Monarch, Indra feared to stand 
In fight before thy conquering hand. 
From thy dread spear the Immortals ran; 
And art thou murdered by a man? 
Ah, 'twas no child of earth, I know, 
That smote thee with that mortal blow. 
Twas Death himself in Rama's shape, 
That slew thee: Death whom none escape. 
Or was it he who rules the skies 
Who met thee, clothed in man's disguise? 
Ah no, my lord, not Indra: he 
In battle ne'er could look on thee. 
One only God thy match I deem: 
'Twas Vishnu's self, the Lord Supreme, 
Whose days through ceaseless time extend 
And ne'er began and ne'er shall end: 
He with the discus, shell, and mace, 
Brought ruin on the giant race. 
Girt by the Gods of heaven arrayed 
Like Vanar hosts his strength to aid, 
[493] He Rama's shape and arms assumed 

And slew the king whom Fate had doomed. 

In Janasthan when Khara died 

With giant legions by his side, 

No mortal was the unconquered foe 

In Rama's form who struck the blow. 

When Hanuman the Vanar came 

And burnt thy town with hostile flame, 



Canto CXIII. Mandodari's Lament. 1739 

I counselled peace in anxious fear: 

I counselled, but thou wouldst not hear. 

Thy fancy for the foreign dame 

Has brought thee death and endless shame. 

Why should thy foolish fancy roam? 

Hadst thou not wives as fair at home? 

In beauty, form and grace could she, 

Dear lord, surpass or rival me? 

Now will the days of Sita glide 

In tranquil joy by Rama's side: 

And I — ah me, around me raves 

A sea of woe with whelming waves. 

With thee in days of old I trod 

Each spot beloved by nymph and God; 

I stood with thee in proud delight 

On Mandar's side and Meru's height; 

With thee, my lord, enchanted strayed 

In Chaitraratha's 1013 lovely shade, 

And viewed each fairest scene afar 

Transported in thy radiant car. 

But source of every joy wast thou, 

And all my bliss is ended now." 

Then Rama to Vibhishan cried: 
"Whate'er the ritual bids, provide. 
Obsequial honours duly pay, 
And these sad mourners' grief allay." 
Vibhishan answered, wise and true, 
For duty's changeless law he knew: 
"Nay one who scorned all sacred vows 
And dared to touch another's spouse, 
Fell tyrant of the human race, 
With funeral rites I may not grace." 



1013 The garden of Kuvera, the God of Riches. 



1740 The Ramayana 

Him Raghu's royal son, the best 
Of those who love the law, addressed: 
"False was the rover of the night, 
He loved the wrong and scorned the right. 
Yet for the fallen warrior plead 
The dauntless heart, the valorous deed. 
Let him who ne'er had brooked defeat, 
The chief whom Indra feared to meet, 
The ever-conquering lord, obtain 
The honours that should grace the slain." 
Vibhishan bade his friends prepare 
The funeral rites with thoughtful care. 
Himself the royal palace sought 
Whence sacred fire was quickly brought, 
With sandal wood and precious scents 
And pearl and coral ornaments. 
Wise Brahmans, while the tears that flowed 
Down their wan cheeks their sorrow sowed, 
Upon a golden litter laid 
The corpse in finest ropes arrayed. 
Thereon were flowers and pennons hung, 
And loud the monarch's praise was sung. 
Then was the golden litter raised, 
While holy fire in order blazed. 
And first in place Vibhishan led 
The slow procession of the dead, 
Behind, their cheeks with tears bedewed, 
Came sad the widowed multitude. 
Where, raised as Brahmans ordered, stood 
Piled sandal logs, and scented wood, 
The body of the king was set 
High on a deerskin coverlet. 
Then duly to the monarch's shade 
The offerings for the dead they paid, 



Canto CXIV. Vibhishan Consecrated. 1741 

And southward on the eastern side 

An altar formed and fire supplied. 

Then on the shoulder of the dead 

The oil and clotted milk were shed. 

All rites were done as rules ordain: 

The sacrificial goat was slain. 

Next on the corpse were perfumes thrown 

And many a flowery wreath was strown; 

And with Vibhishan's ready aid 

Rich vesture o'er the king was laid. 

Then while the tears their cheeks bedewed 

Parched grain upon the dead they strewed; 

Last, to the wood, as rules require, 

Vibhishan set the kindling fire. 



Then having bathed, as texts ordain, 
To Lanka went the mourning train. 
Vibhishan, when his task was done, 
Stood by the side of Raghu's son. 
And Rama, freed from every foe, 
Unstrung at last his deadly bow, 
And laid the glittering shafts aside, 
And mail by Indra's love supplied. 



Canto CXIV. Vibhishan Consecrated. 



1742 The Ramayana 

Joy reigned in heaven where every eye 
Had seen the Lord of Lanka die. 
In cars whose sheen surpassed the sun's 
Triumphant rode the radiant ones: 
And Ravan's death, by every tongue, 
And Rama's glorious deeds were sung. 
They praised the Vanars true and brave, 
The counsel wise Sugriva gave. 
The deeds of Hanuman they told, 
The valiant chief supremely bold, 
The strong ally, the faithful friend, 
And Sita's truth which naught could bend. 

To Matali, whom Indra sent, 
His head the son of Raghu bent: 
And he with fiery steeds who clove 
[494] The clouds again to Swarga drove. 

Round King Sugriva brave and true 
His arms in rapture Rama threw, 
Looked on the host with joy and pride, 
And thus to noble Lakshman cried: 

"Now let king-making drops be shed, 
Dear brother, on Vibhishan's head 
For truth and friendship nobly shown, 
And make him lord of Ravan's throne." 
This longing of his heart he told: 
And Lakshman took an urn of gold 
And bade the wind-fleet Vanars bring 
Sea water for the giants' king. 
The brimming urn was swiftly brought: 
Then on a throne superbly wrought 
Vibhishan sat, the giants' lord, 
And o'er his brows the drops were poured. 



Canto CXV. Sita's Joy. 1743 

As Raghu's son the rite beheld 
His loving heart with rapture swelled: 
But tenderer thoughts within him woke, 
And thus to Hanuman he spoke: 



"Go to my queen: this message give: 
Say Lakshman and Sugriva live. 
The death of Lanka's monarch tell, 
And bid her joy, for all is well." 



Canto CXV. Sita's Joy. 



The Vanar chieftain bowed his head, 
Within the walls of Lanka sped, 
Leave from the new-made king obtained, 
And Sita's lovely garden gained. 
Beneath a tree the queen he found, 
Where Rakshas warders watched around. 
Her pallid cheek, her tangled hair, 
Her raiment showed her deep despair, 
Near and more near the envoy came 
And gently hailed the weeping dame. 
She started up in sweet surprise, 
And sudden joy illumed her eyes. 
For well the Vanar's voice she knew, 
And hope reviving sprang and grew. 



1744 The Ramayana 

"Fair Queen," he said, "our task is done: 
The foe is slain and Lanka won. 
Triumphant mid triumphant friends 
Kind words of greeting Rama sends. 
"Blest for thy sake, O spouse most true, 
My deadly foe I met and slew. 
Mine eyes are strangers yet to sleep: 
I built a bridge athwart the deep 
And crossed the sea to Lanka's shore 
To keep the mighty oath I swore. 
Now, gentle love, thy cares dispel, 
And weep no more, for all is well. 
Fear not in Ravan's house to stay 
For good Vibhishan now bears sway, 
For constant truth and friendship known 
Regard his palace as thine own." 
He greets thee thus thy heart to cheer, 
And urged by love will soon be here." 



Then flushed with joy the lady's cheek. 
Her eyes o'erflowed, her voice was weak; 
But struggling with her sobs she broke 
Her silence thus, and faintly spoke: 
"So fast the flood of rapture came, 
My trembling tongue no words could frame. 
Ne'er have I heard in days of bliss 
A tale that gave such joy as this. 
More precious far than gems and gold 
The message which thy lips have told." 



Canto CXV. Sita's Joy. 1745 

His reverent hands the Vanar raised 
And thus the lady's answer praised: 
"Sweet are the words, O Queen, which thou 
True to thy lord, hast spoken now, 
Better than gems and pearls of price, 
Yea, or the throne of Paradise. 
But, lady, ere I leave this place, 
Grant me, I pray, a single grace. 
Permit me, and this vengeful hand 
Shall slay thy guards, this Rakshas band, 
Whose cruel insult threat and scorn 
Thy gentle soul too long has borne." 

Thus, stern of mood, Hanuman cried: 
The Maithil lady thus replied: 
"Nay, be not wroth with servants: they, 
When monarchs bid must needs obey. 
And, vassals of their lords, fulfil 
Each fancy of their sovereign will. 
To mine own sins the blame impute, 
For as we sow we reap the fruit. 
The tyrant's will these dames obeyed 
When their fierce threats my soul dismayed." 

She ceased: with admiration moved 
The Vanar chief her words approved: 
"Thy speech," he cried, "is worthy one 
Whom love has linked to Raghu's son. 
Now speak, O Queen, that I may know 
Thy pleasure, for to him I go." 
The Vanar ceased: then Janak's child 
Made answer as she sweetly smiled: 
'"My first, my only wish can be, 
O chief, my loving lord to see." 



[495] 



1746 The Ramayana 

Again the Vanar envoy spoke, 
And with his words new rapture woke: 
"Queen, ere this sun shall cease to shine 
Thy Rama's eyes shall look in thine. 
Again the lord of Raghu's race 
Shall turn to thee his moon-bright face. 
His faithful brother shall thou see 
And every friend who fought for thee, 
And greet once more thy king restored 
Like Sachi 1014 to her heavenly lord." 
To Raghu's son his steps he bent 
And told the message that she sent. 



Canto CXVI. The Meeting. 



He looked upon that archer chief 
Whose full eye mocked the lotus leaf, 
And thus the noble Vanar spake: 
"Now meet the queen for whose dear sake 
Thy mighty task was first begun, 
And now the glorious fruit is won. 
O'erwhelmed with woe thy lady lies, 
The hot tears streaming from her eyes. 
And still the queen must long and pine 
Until those eyes be turned to thine." 



Canto CXVI. The Meeting. 1747 

But Rama stood in pensive mood, 
And gathering tears his eyes bedewed. 
His sad looks sought the ground: he sighed 
And thus to King Vibhishan cried: 
"Let Sita bathe and tire her head 
And hither to my sight be led 
In raiment sweet with precious scent, 
And gay with golden ornament." 

The Rakshas king his palace sought, 
And Sita from her bower was brought. 
Then Rakshas bearers tall and strong, 
Selected from the menial throng, 
Through Lanka's gate the queen, arrayed 
In glorious robes and gems, conveyed. 
Concealed behind the silken screen, 
Swift to the plain they bore the queen, 
While Vanars, close on every side, 
With eager looks the litter eyed. 
The warders at Vibhishan's hest 
The onward rushing throng repressed, 
While like the roar of ocean loud 
Rose the wild murmur of the crowd. 
The son of Raghu saw and moved 
With anger thus the king reproved: 
"Why vex with hasty blow and threat 
The Vanars, and my rights forget? 
Repress this zeal, untimely shown: 
I count this people as mine own. 
A woman's guard is not her bower, 
The lofty wall, the fenced tower: 
Her conduct is her best defence, 
And not a king's magnificence. 
At holy rites, in war and woe, 



1748 The Ramayana 

Her face unveiled a dame may show; 
When at the Maiden's Choice 1015 they meet, 
When marriage troops parade the street. 
And she, my queen, who long has lain 
In prison racked with care and pain, 
May cease a while her face to hide, 
For is not Rama by her side? 
Lay down the litter: on her feet 
Let Sita come her lord to meet. 
And let the hosts of woodland race 
Look near upon the lady's face." 



Then Lakshman and each Vanar chief 
Who heard his words were filled with grief. 
The lady's gentle spirit sank, 
And from each eye in fear she shrank, 
As, her sweet eyelids veiled for shame, 
Slowly before her lord she came. 
While rapture battled with surprise 
She raised to his her wistful eyes. 
Then with her doubt and fear she strove, 
And from her breast all sorrow drove. 
Regardless of the gathering crowd, 
Bright as the moon without a cloud, 
She bent her eyes, no longer dim, 
In joy and trusting love on him. 



1015 The Swayamvara, Self-choice or election of a husband by a princess or 
daughter of a Kshatriya at a public assembly of suitors held for the purpose. 
For a description of the ceremony see Nala and Damayanti an episode of the 
Mahabharat translated by the late Dean Milman, and Idylls from the Sanskrit. 



Canto CXVII. Sita's Disgrace. 1749 

Canto CXVII. Sita's Disgrace. 

He saw her trembling by his side, 

And looked upon her face and cried: 

"Lady, at length my task is done, 

And thou, the prize of war, art won, 

This arm my glory has retrieved, 

And all that man might do achieved; 

The insulting foe in battle slain 

And cleared mine honour from its stain. 

This day has made my name renowned 

And with success my labour crowned. 

Lord of myself, the oath I swore 

Is binding on my soul no more. 

If from my home my queen was reft, 

This arm has well avenged the theft, 

And in the field has wiped away 

The blot that on mine honour lay. 

The bridge that spans the foaming flood, 

The city red with giants' blood; 

The hosts by King Sugriva led 

Who wisely counselled, fought and bled; 

Vibhishan's love, our guide and stay — 

All these are crowned with fruit to-day. 

But, lady, 'twas not love for thee 

That led mine army o'er the sea. 

'Twas not for thee our blood was shed, 

Or Lanka filled with giant dead. 

No fond affection for my wife 

Inspired me in the hour of strife. 

I battled to avenge the cause 

Of honour and insulted laws. 

My love is fled, for on thy fame 

Lies the dark blot of sin and shame; 



1750 The Ramayana 

[496] And thou art hateful as the light 

That flashes on the injured sight. 
The world is all before thee: flee: 
Go where thou wilt, but not with me. 
How should my home receive again 
A mistress soiled with deathless stain? 
How should I brook the foul disgrace, 
Scorned by my friends and all my race? 
For Ravan bore thee through the sky, 
And fixed on thine his evil eye. 
About thy waist his arms he threw, 
Close to his breast his captive drew, 
And kept thee, vassal of his power, 
An inmate of his ladies' bower." 



Canto CXVIII. Sita's Reply. 

Struck down with overwhelming shame 
She shrank within her trembling frame. 
Each word of Rama's like a dart 
Had pierced the lady to the heart; 
And from her sweet eyes unrestrained 
The torrent of her sorrows, rained. 
Her weeping eyes at length she dried, 
And thus mid choking sobs replied: 
"Canst thou, a high-born prince, dismiss 
A high-born dame with speech like this? 
Such words befit the meanest hind, 
Not princely birth and generous mind, 
By all my virtuous life I swear 
I am not what thy words declare. 



Canto CXVIII. Sita's Reply. 175 1 

If some are faithless, wilt thou find 

No love and truth in womankind? 

Doubt others if thou wilt, but own 

The truth which all my life has shown. 

If, when the giant seized his prey, 

Within his hated arms I lay, 

And felt the grasp I dreaded, blame 

Fate and the robber, not thy dame. 

What could a helpless woman do? 

My heart was mine and still was true, 

Why when Hanuman sent by thee 

Sought Lanka's town across the sea, 

Couldst thou not give, O lord of men, 

Thy sentence of rejection then? 

Then in the presence of the chief 

Death, ready death, had brought relief, 

Nor had I nursed in woe and pain 

This lingering life, alas in vain. 

Then hadst thou shunned the fruitless strife 

Nor jeopardied thy noble life, 

But spared thy friends and bold allies 

Their vain and weary enterprise. 

Is all forgotten, all? my birth, 

Named Janak's child, from fostering earth? 

That day of triumph when a maid 

My trembling hand in thine I laid? 

My meek obedience to thy will, 

My faithful love through joy and ill, 

That never failed at duty's call — 

O King, is all forgotten, all?" 

To Lakshman then she turned and spoke 
While sobs and sighs her utterance broke: 
"Sumitra's son, a pile prepare, 



1752 The Ramayana 

My refuge in my dark despair. 
I will not live to bear this weight 
Of shame, forlorn and desolate. 
The kindled fire my woes shall end 
And be my best and surest friend." 

His mournful eyes the hero raised 
And wistfully on Rama gazed, 
In whose stern look no ruth was seen, 
No mercy for the weeping queen. 
No chieftain dared to meet those eyes, 
To pray, to question or advise. 

The word was passed, the wood was piled 
And fain to die stood Janak's child. 
She slowly paced around her lord, 
The Gods with reverent act adored, 
Then raising suppliant hands the dame 
Prayed humbly to the Lord of Flame: 
"As this fond heart by virtue swayed 
From Raghu's son has never strayed, 
So, universal witness, Fire 
Protect my body on the pyre, 
As Raghu's son has idly laid 
This charge on Sita, hear and aid." 

She ceased: and fearless to the last 
Within the flame's wild fury passed. 
Then rose a piercing cry from all 
Dames, children, men, who saw her fall 
Adorned with gems and gay attire 
Beneath the fury of the fire. 



Canto CXIX. Glory To Vishnu. 1753 

Canto CXIX. Glory To Vishnu. 

The shrill cry pierced through Rama's ears 

And his sad eyes o'erflowed with tears, 

When lo, transported through the sky 

A glorious band of Gods was nigh. 

Ancestral shades, 1016 by men revered, 

In venerable state appeared, 

And he from whom all riches flow, 1017 

And Yama Lord who reigns below: 

King Indra, thousand-eyed, and he 

Who wields the sceptre of the sea. 1018 

The God who shows the blazoned bull, 1019 

And Brahma Lord most bountiful 

By whose command the worlds were made 

All these on radiant cars conveyed, [497] 

Brighter than sun-beams, sought the place 

Where stood the prince of Raghu's race, 

And from their glittering seats the best 

Of blessed Gods the chief addressed: 

"Couldst thou, the Lord of all, couldst thou, 
Creator of the worlds, allow 
Thy queen, thy spouse to brave the fire 
And give her body to the pyre? 
Dost thou not yet, supremely wise, 
Thy heavenly nature recognize?" 
They ceased: and Rama thus began: 
"I deem myself a mortal man. 
Of old Ikshvaku's line, I spring 



! The Pitris or Manes, the spirits of the dead. 



1018 Varan, God of the sea. 

1019 Mahadeva or Siva whose ensign is a bull. 



1754 The Ramayana 

From Dasaratha Kosal's king." 
He ceased: and Brahma's self replied: 
"O cast the idle thought aside. 
Thou art the Lord Narayan, thou 
The God to whom all creatures bow. 
Thou art the saviour God who wore 
Of old the semblance of a boar; 
Thou he whose discus overthrows 
All present, past and future foes; 
Thou Brahma, That whose days extend 
Without beginning, growth or end; 
The God, who, bears the bow of horn, 
Whom four majestic arms adorn; 
Thou art the God who rules the sense 
And sways with gentle influence; 
Thou all-pervading Vishnu Lord 
Who wears the ever-conquering sword; 
Thou art the Guide who leads aright, 
Thou Krishna of unequalled might. 
Thy hand, O Lord, the hills and plains, 
And earth with all her life sustains; 
Thou wilt appear in serpent form 
When sinks the earth in fire and storm. 
Queen Sita of the lovely brows 
Is Lakshmi thy celestial spouse. 
To free the worlds from Ravan thou 
Wouldst take the form thou wearest now. 
Rejoice: the mighty task is done: 
Rejoice, thou great and glorious one. 
The tyrant, slain, thy labours end: 
Triumphant now to heaven ascend. 
High bliss awaits the devotee 
Who clings in loving faith to thee, 
Who celebrates with solemn praise 



Canto CXX. Sita Restored. 1755 

The Lord of ne'er beginning days. 
On earth below, in heaven above 
Great joy shall crown his faith and love. 
And he who loves the tale divine 
Which tells each glorious deed of thine 
Through life's fair course shall never know 
The fierce assault of pain and woe." 1020 



Canto CXX. Sita Restored. 



Thus spoke the Self-existent Sire: 
Then swiftly from the blazing pyre 
The circling flames were backward rolled, 
And, raising in his gentle hold 
Alive unharmed the Maithil dame, 
The Lord of Fire embodied came. 
Fair as the morning was her sheen, 
And gold and gems adorned the queen. 
Her form in crimson robes arrayed, 
Her hair was bound in glossy braid. 
Her wreath was fresh and sweet of scent, 
Undimmed was every ornament. 
Then, standing close to Rama' a side, 
The universal witness cried: 
"From every blot and blemish free 
Thy faithful queen returns to thee. 
In word or deed, in look or mind 
Her heart from thee has ne'er declined. 



1020 rp^g Addre SS to Rama, both text and commentary, will be found literally 
translated in the Additional Notes. A paraphrase of a portion is all that I have 
attempted here. 



1756 The Ramayana 

By force the giant bore away 
From thy lone cot his helpless prey; 
And in his bowers securely kept 
She still has longed for thee and wept. 
With soft temptation, bribe and threat, 
He bade the dame her love forget: 
But, nobly faithful to her lord, 
Her soul the giant's suit abhorred. 
Receive, O King, thy queen again, 
Pure, ever pure from spot and stain." 

Still stood the king in thoughtful mood 
And tears of joy his eyes bedewed. 
Then to the best of Gods the best 
Of warrior chiefs his mind expressed: 

"Twas meet that mid the thousands here 
The searching fire my queen should clear; 
For long within the giant's bower 
She dwelt the vassal of his power. 
For else had many a slanderous tongue 
Reproaches on mine honour flung, 
And scorned the king who, love-impelled, 
His consort from the proof withheld. 
No doubt had I, but surely knew 
That Janak's child was pure and true, 
That, come what might, in good and ill 
Her faithful heart was with me still. 
I knew that Ravan could not wrong 
My queen whom virtue made so strong. 
I knew his heart would sink and fail, 
Nor dare her honour to assail, 
As Ocean, when he raves and roars, 
Fears to o'erleap his bounding shores. 



Canto CXXI. Dasaratha. 1757 

Now to the worlds her truth is shown, 

And Sita is again mine own. 

Thus proved before unnumbered eyes, 

On her pure fame no shadow lies. 

As heroes to their glory cleave, 

Mine own dear spouse I ne'er will leave." [498] 

He ceased: and clasped in fond embrace 

On his dear breast she hid her face. 



Canto CXXI. Dasaratha. 



To him Mahesvar thus replied: 
"O strong-armed hero, lotus-eyed, 
Thou, best of those who love the right, 
Hast nobly fought the wondrous fight. 
Dispelled by thee the doom that spread 
Through trembling earth and heaven is fled. 
The worlds exult in light and bliss, 
And praise thy name, O chief, for this. 
Now peace to Bharat's heart restore, 
And bid Kausalya weep no more. 
Thy face let Queen Kaikeyi see, 
Let fond Sumitra gaze on thee. 
The longing of thy friends relieve, 
The kingdom of thy sires receive. 
Let sons of gentle Sita born 
Ikshvaku's ancient line adorn. 
Then from all care and foemen freed 
Perform the offering of the steed. 
In pious gifts thy wealth expend, 
Then to the home of Gods ascend, 



1758 The Ramayana 

Thy sire, this glorious king, behold, 
Among the blest in heaven enrolled. 
He comes from where the Immortals dwell: 
Salute him, for he loves thee well." 

His mandate Raghu's sons obeyed, 
And to their sire obeisance made, 
Where high he stood above the car 
In wondrous light that shone afar, 
His limbs in radiant garments dressed 
Whereon no spot of dust might rest. 
When on the son he loved so well 
The eyes of Dasaratha fell, 
He strained the hero to his breast 
And thus with gentle words addressed: 
"No joy to me is heavenly bliss, 
For there these eyes my Rama miss. 
Enrolled on high with saint and sage, 
Thy woes, dear son, my thoughts engage. 
Kaikeyfs guile I ne'er forget: 
Her cruel words will haunt me yet, 
Which sent thee forth, my son, to roam 
The forest far from me and home. 
Now when I look on each dear face, 
And hold you both in fond embrace, 
My heart is full of joy to see 
The sons I love from danger free. 
Now know I what the Gods designed, 
And how in Rama's form enshrined 
The might of Purushottam lay, 
The tyrant of the worlds to slay. 
Ah, how Kausalya will rejoice 
To hear again her darling's voice, 
And, all thy weary wanderings o'er, 



Canto CXXI. Dasaratha. 1759 

To gaze upon thy face once more. 
Ah blest, for ever blest are they 
Whose eyes shall see the glorious day 
Of thy return in joy at last, 
Thy term of toil and exile past. 
Ayodhya's lord, begin thy reign, 
And day by day new glory gain." 



He ceased: and Rama thus replied: 
"Be not this grace, O sire, denied. 
Those hasty words, that curse revoke 
Which from thy lips in anger broke: 
"Kaikeyi, be no longer mine: 
I cast thee off, both thee and thine." 
O father, let no sorrow fall 
On her or hers: thy curse recall." 
"Yea, she shall live, if so thou wilt," 
The sire replied, "absolved from guilt." 
Round Lakshman then his arms he threw, 
And moved by love began anew: 
"Great store of merit shall be thine, 
And brightly shall thy glory shine; 
Secure on earth thy brother's grace. 
And high in heaven shall be thy place. 
Thy glorious king obey and fear: 
To him the triple world is dear. 
God, saint, and sage, by Indra led, 
To Rama bow the reverent head, 
Nor from the Lord, the lofty-souled, 
Their worship or their praise withhold. 
Heart of the Gods, supreme is he, 
The One who ne'er shall cease to be." 



1760 The Ramayana 

On SM then he looked and smiled; 
"List to my words" he said, "dear child, 
Let not thy gentle breast retain 
One lingering trace of wrath or pain. 
When by the fire thy truth be proved, 
By love for thee his will was moved. 
The furious flame thy faith confessed 
Which shrank not from the awful test: 
And thou, in every heart enshrined, 
Shalt live the best of womankind." 



He ceased: he bade the three adieu, 
And home to heaven exulting flew. 



Canto CXXII. Indra's Boon. 



Then Indra, he whose fiery stroke 
Slew furious Paka, turned and spoke: 
"A glorious day, O chief, is this, 
Rich with the fruit of lasting bliss. 
Well pleased are we: we love thee well 
Now speak, thy secret wishes tell." 



Canto CXXII. Indra's Boon. 1761 

Thus spake the sovereign of the sky, 
And this was Rama's glad reply: 
"If I have won your grace, incline 
To grant this one request of mine. 
Restore, O King: the Vanar dead 
Whose blood for me was nobly shed. 
To life and strength my friends recall, 
And bring them back from Yama's hall. 
When, fresh in might the warriors rise, 
Prepare a feast to glad their eyes. 
Let fruits of every season glow, 
And streams of purest water flow." 

Thus Raghu's son, great-hearted, prayed, 
And Indra thus his answer made: 
"High is the boon thou seekest: none 
Should win this grace but Raghu's son. 
Yet, faithful to the word I spake, 
I grant the prayer for thy dear sake. 
The Vanars whom the giants slew 
Their life and vigour shall renew. 
Their strength repaired, their gashes healed 
Whose torrents dyed the battle field, 
The warrior hosts from death shall rise 
Like sleepers when their slumber flies." 

Restored from Yama's dark domain 
The Vanar legions filled the plain, 
And, round the royal chief arrayed, 
With wondering hearts obeisance paid. 
Each God the son of Raghu praised, 
And cried as loud his voice he raised: 
"Turn, King, to fair Ayodhya speed, 
And leave thy friends of Vanar breed. 



1762 The Ramayana 

Thy true devoted consort cheer 
After long days of woe and fear. 
Bharat, thy loyal brother, see, 
A hermit now for love of thee. 
The tears of Queen Kausalya dry, 
And light with joy each stepdame's eye; 
Then consecrated king of men 
Make glad each faithful citizen." 

They ceased: and borne on radiant cars 
Sought their bright home amid the stars. 



Canto CXXIII. The Magic Car. 

Then slept the tamer of his foes 
And spent the night in calm repose. 
Vibhishan came when morning broke, 
And hailed the royal chief, and spoke: 
"Here wait thee precious oil and scents, 
And rich attire and ornaments. 
The brimming urns are newly filled, 
And women in their duty skilled, 
With lotus-eyes, thy call attend, 
Assistance at thy bath to lend." 
"Let others," Rama cried, "desire 
These precious scents, this rich attire, 
I heed not such delights as these, 
For faithful Bharat, ill at ease, 
Watching for me is keeping now 
Far far away his rigorous vow. 
By Bharat's side I long to stand, 



Canto CXXIII. The Magic Car. 1763 

I long to see my fatherland. 
Far is Ayodhya: long, alas, 
The dreary road and hard to pass." 

"One day," Vibhishan cried, "one day 
Shall bear thee o'er that length of way. 
Is not the wondrous chariot mine, 
Named Pushpak, wrought by hands divine. 
The prize which Ravan seized of old 
Victorious o'er the God of Gold? 
This chariot, kept with utmost care, 
Will waft thee through the fields of air, 
And thou shalt light unwearied down 
In fair Ayodhya's royal town. 
But yet if aught that I have done 
Has pleased thee well, O Raghu's son; 
If still thou carest for thy friend, 
Some little time in Lanka spend; 
There after toil of battle rest 
Within my halls an honoured guest." 
Again the son of Raghu spake: 
"Thy life was perilled for my sake. 
Thy counsel gave me priceless aid: 
All honours have been richly paid. 
Scarce can my love refuse, O best 
Of giant kind, thy last request. 
But still I yearn once more to see 
My home and all most dear to me; 
Nor can I brook one hour's delay: 
Forgive me, speed me on my way." 

He ceased: the magic car was brought. 
Of yore by Visvakarma wrought. 
In sunlike sheen it flashed and blazed; 
And Raghu's sons in wonder gazed. 



1764 The Ramayana 

Canto CXXIV. The Departure. 

The giant lord the chariot viewed, 
And humbly thus his speech renewed: 
"Behold, O King, the car prepared: 
Now be thy further will declared." 
He ceased: and Rama spake once more: 
"These hosts who thronged to Lanka's shore 
Their faith and might have nobly shown, 
And set thee on the giants' throne. 
Let pearls and gems and gold repay 
The feats of many a desperate day, 
That all may go triumphant hence 
Proud of their noble recompense." 
Vibhishan, ready at his call, 
With gold and gems enriched them all. 
Then Rama clomb the glorious car 
That shone like day's resplendent star. 
There in his lap he held his dame 
Vailing her eyes in modest shame. 
Beside him Lakshman took his stand, 
Whose mighty bow still armed his hand, 
"O King Vibhishan," Rama cried, 
[500] "O Vanar chiefs, so long allied, 

My comrades till the foemen fell, 
List, for I speak a long farewell. 
The task, in doubt and fear begun, 
With your good aid is nobly done. 
Leave Lanka's shore, your steps retrace, 
Brave warriors of the Vanar race. 
Thou, King Sugriva, true, through all, 
To friendship's bond and duty's call, 
Seek far Kishkindha with thy train 
And o'er thy realm in glory reign. 



Canto CXXIV. The Departure. 1765 

Farewell, Vibhishan, Lanka's throne 
Won by our arms is now thine own, 
Thou, mighty lord, hast nought to dread 
From heavenly Gods by Indra led. 
My last farewell, King, receive, 
For Lanka's isle this hour I leave." 



Loud rose their cry in answer: "We, 

Raghu's son, would go with thee. 
With thee delighted would we stray 
Where sweet Ayodhya's groves are gay, 
Then in the joyous synod view 
King-making balm thy brows bedew; 
Our homage to Kausalya pay, 

And hasten on our homeward way." 

Their prayer the son of Raghu heard, 
And spoke, his heart with rapture stirred: 
"Sugriva, O my faithful friend, 
Vibhishan and ye chiefs, ascend. 
A joy beyond all joys the best 
Will fill my overflowing breast, 
If girt by you, O noble band, 

1 seek again my native land." 
With Vanar lords in danger tried 
Sugriva sprang to Rama's side, 
And girt by chiefs of giant kind 
Vibhishan's step was close behind. 
Swift through the air, as Rama chose, 
The wondrous car from earth arose. 
And decked with swans and silver wings 
Bore through the clouds its freight of kings. 



1766 The Ramayana 

Canto CXXV. The Return. 



Then Rama, speeding through the skies, 
Bent on the earth his eager eyes: 
"Look, Sita, see, divinely planned 
And built by Visvakarma's hand, 
Lanka the lovely city rest 
Enthroned on Mount Trikuta's crest 
Behold those fields, ensanguined yet, 
Where Vanar hosts and giants met. 
There, vainly screened by charm and spell, 
The robber Ravan fought and fell. 
There knelt Mandodari 1021 and shed 
Her tears in floods for Ravan dead. 
And every dame who loved him sent 
From her sad heart her wild lament. 
There gleams the margin of the deep, 
Where, worn with toil, we sank to sleep. 
Look, love, the unconquered sea behold, 
King Varun's home ordained of old, 
Whose boundless waters roar and swell 
Rich with their store of pearl and shell. 
O see, the morning sun is bright 
On fair Hiranyanabha's 1022 height, 
Who rose from Ocean's sheltering breast 
That Hanuman might stay and rest. 
There stretches, famed for evermore, 
The wondrous bridge from shore to shore. 
The worlds, to life's remotest day, 
Due reverence to the work shall pay, 
Which holier for the lapse of time 



1021 Ravan's queen. 



Canto CXXV. The Return. 1767 

Shall give release from sin and crime. 

Now thither bend, dear love, thine eyes 

Where green with groves Kishkindha lies, 

The seat of King Sugriva's reign, 

Where Bali by this hand was slain. 1023 

There Rishyamuka's hill behold 

Bright gleaming with embedded gold. 

There too my wandering foot I set, 

There King Sugriva first I met. 

And, where yon trees their branches wave, 

My promise of assistance gave. 

There, flushed with lilies, Pampa shines 

With banks which greenest foliage lines, 

Where melancholy steps I bent 

And mourned thee with a mad lament. 

There fierce Kabandha, spreading wide 

His giant arms, in battle died. 

Turn, Sita, turn thine eyes and see 

In Janasthan that glorious tree: 

There Ravan, lord of giants slew 

Our friend Jatayus brave and true, 

Thy champion in the hopeless strife, 

Who gave for thee his noble life. 

Now mark that glade amid the trees 

Where once we lived as devotees. 

See, see our leafy cot between 

Those waving boughs of densest green, 

Where Ravan seized his prize and stole 

My love the darling of my soul. 

O, look again: beneath thee gleams 



1023 Here, in the North-west recension, Sita expresses a wish that Tara and the 
wives of the Vanar chiefs should be invited to accompany her to Ayodhya. 
The car decends, and the Vanar matrons are added to the party. The Bengal 
recension ignores this palpable interruption. 



1768 The Ramayana 

Godavari the best of streams, 
Whose lucid waters sweetly glide 
By lilies that adorn her side. 
There dwelt Agastya, holy sage, 
In plantain-sheltered hermitage. 
[501] See Sarabhanga's humble shed 

Which sovereign Indra visited. 
See where the gentle hermits dwell 
Neath Atri's rule who loved us well; 
Where once thine eyes were blest to see 
His sainted dame who talked with thee. 
Now rest thine eyes with new delight 
On Chitrakuta's woody height, 
See Jumna flashing in the sun 
Through groves of brilliant foliage run. 
Screened by the shade of spreading boughs. 
There Bharadvaja keeps his vows, 
There Ganga, river of the skies, 
Rolls the sweet wave that purifies, 
There Sringavera's towers ascend 
Where Guha reigns, mine ancient friend. 
I see, I see thy glittering spires, 
Ayodhya, city of my sires. 
Bow down, bow down thy head, my sweet, 
Our home, our long-lost home to greet." 



Canto CXXVI. Bharat Consoled. 



Canto CXXVI. Bharat Consoled. 1769 

But Rama bade the chariot stay, 

And halting in his airy way, 

In Bharadvaja's holy shade 

His homage to the hermit paid. 

"O saint," he cried, "I yearn to know 

My dear Ayodhya's weal and woe. 

tell me that the people thrive, 
And that the queens are yet alive." 

Joy gleamed in Bhardvaja's eye, 
Who gently smiled and made reply: 
"Thy brother, studious of thy will, 
Is faithful and obedient still. 
In tangled twine he coils his hair: 
Thy safe return is all his care. 
Before thy shoes he humbly bends, 
And to thy house and realm attends. 
When first these dreary years began, 
When first I saw the banished man, 
With Sita, in his hermit coat, 
At this sad heart compassion smote. 
My breast with tender pity swelled: 

1 saw thee from thy home expelled, 
Reft of all princely state, forlorn, 
A hapless wanderer travel-worn, 
Firm in thy purpose to fulfil 

Thy duty and thy father's will. 
But boundless is my rapture now: 
Triumphant, girt with friends, art thou. 
Where'er thy wandering steps have been, 
Thy joy and woe mine eyes have seen. 
Thy glorious deeds to me art known, 
The Brahmans saved, the foes o'erthrown. 
Such power have countless seasons spent 



1770 The Ramayana 

In penance and devotion lent. 
Thy virtues, best of chiefs, I know, 
And now a boon would fain bestow. 
This hospitable gift 1024 receive: 
Then with the dawn my dwelling leave." 
The bended head of Rama showed 
His reverence for the grace bestowed; 
Then for each brave companion's sake 
He sought a further boon and spake: 



"O let that mighty power of thine 
The road to fair Ayodhya line 
With trees where fruit of every hue 
The Vanars' eye and taste may woo, 
And flowers of every season, sweet 
With stores of honeyed juice, may meet." 
The hero ceased: the hermit bent 
His reverend head in glad assent; 
And swift, as Bharadvaja willed, 
The prayer of Rama was fulfilled. 
For many a league the lengthening road 
Trees thick with fruit and blossom showed 
With luscious beauty to entice 
The taste like trees of Paradise. 
The Vanars passed beneath the shade 
Of that delightful colonnade, 
Still tasting with unbounded glee 
The treasures of each wondrous tree. 



1024 rpj^g ar gj l y a ^ a respectful offering to Gods and venerable men consisting of 
rice, diiiva grass, flowers etc., with water. 



Canto CXXVII. Rama's Message. 177 1 

Canto CXXVII. Rama's Message. 

But Rama, when he first looked down 

And saw afar Ayodhya' s town, 

Had called Hanuman to his side, 

The chief on whom his heart relied, 

And said: "Brave Vanar, good at need, 

Haste onward, to Ayodhya speed, 

And learn, I pray, if all be well 

With those who in the palace dwell. 

But as thou speedest on thy way 

Awhile at Sringavera stay. 

Tell Guha the Nishadas' lord, 

That victor, with my queen restored, 

In health and strength with many a friend 

Homeward again my steps I bend. 

Thence by the road that he will show 

On to Ayodhya swiftly go. 

There with my love my brother greet, 

And all our wondrous tale repeat. 

Say that victorious in the strife 

I come with Lakshman and my wife, 

Then mark with keenest eye each trace 

Of joy or grief on Bharat's face. 

Be all his gestures closely viewed, [502] 

Each change of look and attitude. 

Where breathes the man who will not cling 

To all that glorifies a king? 

Where beats the heart that can resign 

An ancient kingdom, nor repine 

To lose a land renowned for breeds 

Of elephants and warrior steeds? 

If, won by custom day by day, 

My brother Bharat thirsts for sway, 



1772 The Ramayana 

Still let him rule the nations, still 
The throne of old Ikshvaku fill. 
Go, mark him well: his feelings learn, 
And, ere we yet be near return." 

He ceased: and, garbed in human form, 
Forth sped Hanuman swift as storm. 
Sublime in air he rose, and through 
The region of his father flew. 
He saw far far beneath his feet 
Where Ganga's flood and Jumna meet. 
Descending from the upper air 
He entered Sringavera, where 
King Guha's heart was well content 
To hear the message Rama sent. 
Then, with his mighty strength renewed, 
The Vanar chief his way pursued, 
Valukini was far behind, 
And Gomati with forests lined, 
And golden fields and pastures gay 
With flocks and herds beneath him lay. 
Then Nandigrama charmed his eye 
Where flowers were bright with every dye, 
And trees of lovely foliage made 
With meeting boughs delightful shade, 
Where women watched in trim array 
Their little sons' and grandsons' play. 
His eager eye on Bharat fell 
Who sat before his lonely cell. 
In hermit weed, with tangled hair, 
Pale, weak, and worn with ceaseless care. 
His royal pomp and state resigned 
For Rama still he watched and pined, 
Still to his dreary vows adhered, 



Canto CXXVII. Rama's Message. 1773 

And royal Rama's shoes revered. 
Yet still the terror of his arm 
Preserved the land from fear and harm. 

The Wind-God's son, in form a man, 
Raised reverent hands and thus began: 
"Fond greeting, Prince, I bring to thee, 
And Rama's self has sent it: he 
For whom thy spirit sorrows yet 
As for a hapless anchoret 
In Dandak wood, in dire distress, 
With matted hair and hermit dress. 
This sorrow from thy bosom fling, 
And hear the tale of joy I bring. 
This day thy brother shalt thou meet 
Exulting in his foe's defeat, 
Freed from his toil and lengthened vow, 
The light of victory on his brow, 
With Sita, Lakshman and his friends 
Homeward at last his steps he bends." 

Then joy, too mighty for control, 
Rushed in full flood o'er Bharat's soul; 
His reeling sense and strength gave way, 
And fainting on the earth he lay, 
At length upspringing from the ground, 
His arms about Hanuman wound, 
With tender tears of rapture sprung, 
He dewed the neck to which he clung: 
"Art thou a God or man," he cried, 
"Whom love and pity hither guide? 
For this a hundred thousand kine, 
A hundred villages be thine. 
A score of maids of spotless lives 



1774 The Ramayana 

To thee I give to be thy wives, 
Of golden hue and bright of face, 
Each lovely for her tender grace." 

He ceased a while by joy subdued, 
And then his eager speech renewed. 



Canto CXXVIII. Hanuman's Story. 

"In doubt and fear long years have passed 
And glorious tidings come at last. 
True, true is now the ancient verse 
Which men in time of bliss rehearse: 
"Once only in a hundred years 
Great joy to mortal men appears." 
But now his woes and triumph tell, 
And loss and gain as each befell." 
He ceased: Hanuman mighty-souled 
The tale of Rama's wanderings told 
From that first day on which he stood 
In the drear shade of Dandak wood. 
He told how fierce Viradha fell; 
He told of Sarabhanga's cell 
Where Rama saw with wondering eyes 
Indra descended from the skies. 
He told how Surpanakhi came, 
Her soul aglow with amorous flame, 
And fled repulsed, with rage and tears, 
Reft of her nose and severed ears. 
He told how Rama's might subdued 
The giants' furious multitude; 



Canto CXXIX. The Meeting With Bharat. 1775 

How Khara with the troops he led 
And Trisiras and Dushan bled: 
How Rama, tempted from his cot, 
The golden deer pursued and shot, 
And Ravan came and stole away 
The Maithil queen his hapless prey, 
When, as he fought, the dame to save, 
His noble life Jatayus gave: 
How Rama still the the search renewed, 
The robber to his hold pursued, 
Bridging the sea from shore to shore, 
And found his queen to part no more. 1025 



[503] 



Canto CXXIX. The Meeting With Bharat. 



O'erwhelmed with rapture Bharat heard 
The tale that all his being stirred, 
And, heralding the glad event, 
This order to Satrughna sent: 
"Let every shrine with flowers be gay 
Let incense burn and music play. 
Go forth, go forth to meet your king, 
Let tabours sound and minstrels sing, 
Let bards swell high the note of praise 
Skilled in the lore of ancient days, 
Call forth the royal matrons: call 
Each noble from the council hall. 



1025 I have abridged Hanuman's outline of Rama's adventures, with the details 
of which we are already sufficiently acquainted. 



1776 The Ramayana 

Send all we love and honour most, 
Send Brahmans and the warrior host, 
A glorious company to bring 
In triumph home our lord the king." 

Great rapture filled Satrughna's breast, 
Obedient to his brother's hest. 
"Send forth ten thousand men" he cried, 
"Let brawny arms be stoutly plied, 
And, smoothing all with skilful care, 
The road for Kosal's king prepare. 
Then o'er the earth let thousands throw 
Fresh showers of water cool as snow, 
And others strew with garlands gay 
With loveliest blooms our monarch's way. 
On tower and temple porch and gate 
Let banners wave in royal state, 
And be each roof and terrace lined 
With blossoms loose and chaplets twined." 

The nobles hasting forth fulfilled 
His order as Satrughna willed. 
Sublime on elephants they rode 
Whose gilded girths with jewels glowed. 
Attended close by thousands more 
Gay with the gear and flags they bore. 
A thousand chiefs their steeds bestrode, 
Their glittering cars a thousand showed. 
And countless hosts in rich array 
Pursued on foot their eager way. 
Veiled from the air with silken screens 
In litters rode the widowed queens. 
Kausalya first, acknowledged head 
And sovereign of the household, led: 



Canto CXXIX. The Meeting With Bharat. 1777 

Sumitra next, and after, dames 
Of lower rank and humbler names. 
Then compassed by a white-robed throng 
Of Brahmans, heralded with song, 
With shouts of joy from countless throats, 
And shells' and tambours' mingled notes, 
And drums resounding long and loud, 
Exulting Bharat joined the crowd. 
Still on his head, well-trained in lore 
Of duty, Rama's shoes he bore. 
The moon-white canopy was spread 
With flowery twine engarlanded, 
And jewelled cheuries, meet to hold 
O'er Rama's brow, shone bright with gold, 
Though Nandigrama's town they neared, 
Of Rama yet no sign appeared. 
Then Bharat called the Vanar chief 
And questioned thus in doubt and grief: 
"Hast thou uncertain, like thy kind, 
A sweet delusive guile designed? 
Where, where is royal Rama? show 
The hero, victor of the foe. 
I gaze, but see no Vanars still 
Who wear each varied shape at will." 

In eager love thus Bharat cried, 
And thus the Wind-God's son replied: 
"Look, Bharat, on those laden trees 
That murmur with the song of bees; 
For Rama's sake the saint has made 
Untimely fruits, unwonted shade. 
Such power in ages long ago 
Could Indra's gracious boon bestow. 
O, hear the Vanars' voices, hear 



1778 The Ramayana 

The shouting which proclaims them near. 
E'en now about to cross they seem 
Sweet Gomati's delightful stream. 
I see, I see the car designed 
By Brahma's own creative mind, 
The car which, radiant as the moon, 
Moves at the will by Brahma's boon; 
The car which once was Ravan's pride, 
The victor's spoil when Ravan died. 
Look, there are Raghu's sons: between 
The brothers stands the rescued queen. 
There is Vibhishan full in view, 
Sugriva and his retinue." 

He ceased: then rapture loosed each tongue: 
From men and dames, from old and young, 
One long, one universal cry, 
'Tis he, 'tis Rama, smote the sky. 
All lighted down with eager speed 
From elephant and car and steed, 
And every joyful eye intent 
On Rama's moonbright face was bent. 
Entranced a moment Bharat gazed: 
Then reverential hands he raised, 
And on his brother humbly pressed 
The honours due to welcome guest. 
Then Bharat clomb the car to greet 
His king and bowed him at his feet, 
Till Rama raised him face to face 
And held him in a close embrace. 
Then Lakshman and the Maithil dame 
He greeted as he spoke his name 1026 



1026 In these respectful salutations the person who salutes his superior mentions 
his own name even when it is well known to the person whom he salutes. 



Canto CXXIX. The Meeting With Bharat. 1779 

He greeted next, supreme in place, 

The sovereign of the Vanar race, 

And Jambavan and Bali's son, [504] 

And lords and chiefs, omitting none. 1027 

Sugriva to his heart he pressed 

And thus with grateful words addressed: 

"Four brothers, Vanar king, were we, 

And now we boast a fifth in thee. 

By kindly acts a friend we know: 

Offence and wrong proclaim the foe." 

To King Vibhishan then he spake: 

"Well hast thou fought for Rama's sake." 

Nor was the brave Satrughna slow 

His reverential love to show 

To both his brothers, as was meet, 

And venerate the lady's feet. 

Then Rama to his mother came, 

Saw her pale cheek and wasted frame, 

With gentle words her heart consoled, 

And clasped her feet with loving hold. 

Then at Sumitra's feet he bent, 

And fair Kaikeyfs, reverent, 

Greeted each dame from chief to least, 

And bowed him to the household priest. 

Up rose a shout from all the throng: 

"O welcome, Rama, mourned so long. 

Welcome, Kausalya's joy and pride," 

Ten hundred thousand voices cried. 

Then Bharat placed, in duty taught, 

On Rama's feet the shoes he brought: 

"My King," he cried, "receive again 



1027 I have omitted the chieftains' names as they could not be introduced without 
padding. They are Mainda, Dwivid, Nfla, Rishabh, Sushen, Nala, Gavaksha, 
Gandhamadan, Sarabh, and Panas. 



1780 The Ramayana 

The pledge preserved through years of pain, 
The rule and lordship of the land 
Entrusted to my weaker hand. 
No more I sigh o'er sorrows past, 
My birth and life are blest at last 
In the glad sight this day has shown, 
When Rama comes to rule his own." 



He ceased: the faithful love that moved 
The prince's soul each heart approved; 
Nor could the Vanar chiefs refrain 
From tender tears that fell like rain. 
Then Rama, stirred with joy anew, 
His arms about his brother threw, 
And to the grove his course he bent 
Where Bharat's hermit days were spent. 
Alighting in that pure retreat 
He pressed the earth with eager feet. 
Then, at his hest, the car rose high 
And sailing through the northern sky 
Sped homeward to the Lord of Gold 
Who owned the wondrous prize of old. 1028 



Canto CXXX. The Consecration. 



1028 The following addition is found in the Bengal recension: But Vaisravan 
(Kuvera) when he beheld his chariot said unto it: "Go, and carry Rama, and 
come unto me when my thought shall call thee, And the chariot returned unto 
Rama;" and he honoured it when he had heard what had passed. 



Canto CXXX. The Consecration. 1781 

Then, reverent hand to hand applied, 

Thus Bharat to his brother cried: 

"Thy realm, O King, is now restored, 

Uninjured to the rightful lord. 

This feeble arm with toil and pain, 

The weighty charge could scarce sustain. 

And the great burthen wellnigh broke 

The neck untrained to bear the yoke. 

The royal swan outspeeds the crow: 

The steed is swift, the mule is slow, 

Nor can my feeble feet be led 

O'er the rough ways where thine should tread. 

Now grant what all thy subjects ask: 

Begin, O King, thy royal task. 

Now let our longing eyes behold 

The glorious rite ordained of old, 

And on the new-found monarch's head 

Let consecrating drops be shed." 

He ceased; victorious Rama bent 
His head in token of assent. 
He sat, and tonsors trimmed with care 
His tangles of neglected hair 
Then, duly bathed, the hero shone 
With all his splendid raiment on. 
And Sita with the matrons' aid 
Her limbs in shining robes arrayed, 
Sumantra then, the charioteer, 
Drew, ordered by Satrughna near, 
And stayed within the hermit grove 
The chariot and the steeds he drove. 
Therein Sugriva's consorts, graced 
With gems, and Rama's queen were placed, 
All fain Ayodhya to behold: 



1782 The Ramayana 

And swift away the chariot rolled. 
Like Indra Lord of Thousand Eyes, 
Drawn by fleet lions through the skies. 
Thus radiant in his glory showed 
King Rama as he homeward rode, 
In power and might unparalleled. 
The reins the hand of Bharat held. 
Above the peerless victor's head 
The snow-white shade Satrughna spread, 
And Lakshman's ever-ready hand 
His forehead with a chourie fanned. 
Vibhishan close to Lakshman's side 
Sharing his task a chourie plied. 
Sugriva on Satrunjay came, 
An elephant of hugest frame: 
Nine thousand others bore, behind, 
The chieftains of the Vanar kind 
All gay, in forms of human mould, 
[505] With rich attire and gems and gold. 

Thus borne along in royal state 
King Rama reached Ayodbya's gate 
With merry noise of shells and drums 
And joyful shouts, He comes, he comes, 
A Brahman host with solemn tread, 
And kine the long procession led, 
And happy maids in ordered bands 
Threw grain and gold with liberal hands. 
Neath gorgeous flags that waved in rows 
On towers and roofs and porticoes. 
Mid merry crowds who sang and cheered 
The palace of the king they neared. 
Then Raghu's son to Bharat, best 
Of duty's slaves, these words addressed: 
"Pass onward to the monarch's hall. 



Canto CXXX. The Consecration. 1783 

The high-souled Vanars with thee call, 

And let the chieftains, as is meet, 

The widows of our father greet. 

And to the Vanar king assign 

Those chambers, best of all, which shine 

With lazulite and pearl inlaid, 

And pleasant grounds with flowers and shade." 

He ceased: and Bharat bent his head; 
Sugriva by the hand he led 
And passed within the palace where 
Stood couches which Satrughna's care, 
With robes and hangings richly dyed, 
And burning lamps, had seen supplied. 
Then Bharat spake: "I pray thee, friend, 
Thy speedy messengers to send, 
Each sacred requisite to bring 
That we may consecrate our king." 
Sugriva raised four urns of gold, 
The water for the rite to hold, 
And bade four swiftest Vanars flee 
And fill them from each distant sea. 
Then east and west and south and north 
The Vanar envoys hastened forth. 
Each in swift flight an ocean sought 
And back through air his treasure brought, 
And full five hundred floods beside 
Pure water for the king supplied. 
Then girt by many a Brahman sage, 
Vasishtha, chief for reverend age, 
High on a throne with jewels graced 
King Rama and his Sita placed. 
There by Jabali, far revered, 
Vijay and Kasyap's son appeared; 



1784 The Ramayana 

By Gautam's side Katvayan stood, 

And Vamadeva wise and good, 

Whose holy hands in order shed 

The pure sweet drops on Rama's head. 

Then priests and maids and warriors, all 

Approaching at Vasishtha's call, 

With sacred drops bedewed their king, 

The centre of a joyous ring, 

The guardians of the worlds, on high, 

And all the children of the sky 

From herbs wherewith their hands were filled 

Rare juices on his brow distilled. 

His brows were bound with glistering gold 

Which Manu's self had worn of old, 

Bright with the flash of many a gem 

His sire's ancestral diadem. 

Satrughna lent his willing aid 

And o'er him held the regal shade: 

The monarchs whom his arm had saved 

The chouries round his forehead waved. 

A golden chain, that flashed and glowed 

With gems the God of Wind bestowed: 

Mahendra gave a glorious string 

Of fairest pearls to deck the king, 

The skies with acclamation rang, 

The gay nymphs danced, the minstrels sang. 

On that blest day the joyful plain 

Was clothed anew with golden grain. 

The trees the witching influence knew, 

And bent with fruits of loveliest hue, 

And Rama's consecration lent 

New sweetness to each flowret's scent. 

The monarch, joy of Raghu's line, 

Gave largess to the Brahmans, kine 



Canto CXXX. The Consecration. 1785 

And steeds unnumbered, wealth untold 
Of robes and pearls and gems and gold. 
A jewelled chain, whose lustre passed 
The glory of the sun, he cast 
About his friend Sugriva's neck; 
And, Angad Bali's son to deck, 
He gave a pair of armlets bright 
With diamond and lazulite. 
A string of pearls of matchless hue 
Which gleams like tender moonlight threw 
Adorned with gems of brightest sheen, 
He gave to grace his darling queen. 
The offering from his hand received 
A moment on her bosom heaved; 
Then from her neck the chain she drew, 
A glance on all the Vanars threw, 
And wistful eyes on Rama bent 
As still she held the ornament. 
Her wish he knew, and made reply 
To that mute question of her eye: 
"Yea, love; the chain on him bestow 
Whose wisdom truth and might we know, 
The firm ally, the faithful friend 
Through toil and peril to the end." 



Then on Hanuman's bosom hung 
The chain which SM's hand had flung: 
So may a cloud, when winds are still 
With moon-lit silver gird a hill. 



1786 The Ramayana 

To every Vanar Rama gave 
Rich treasures from the mine and wave. 
And with their honours well content 
Homeward their steps the chieftains bent. 
Ten thousand years Ayodhya, blest 
With Rama's rule, had peace and rest, 
No widow mourned her murdered mate, 
No house was ever desolate. 
The happy land no murrain knew, 
[506] The flocks and herds increased and grew. 

The earth her kindly fruits supplied, 
No harvest failed, no children died. 
Unknown were want, disease, and crime: 
So calm, so happy was the time. 1029 



[507] 



Here follows in the original an enumeration of the chief blessings which 
will attend the man or woman who reads or hears read this tale of Rama. These 
blessings are briefly mentioned at the end of the first Canto of the first book, 
and it appears unnecessary to repeat them here in their amplified form. The 
Bengal recension (Gorresio's edition) gives them more concisely as follows: 
"This is the great first poem blessed and glorious, which gives long life to 
men and victory to kings, the poem which Valmfki made. He who listens to 
this wondrous tale of Rama unwearied in action shall be absolved from all his 
sins. By listening to the deeds of Rama he who wishes for sons shall obtain 
his heart's desire, and to him who longs for riches shall riches be given. The 
virgin who asks for a husband shall obtain a husband suited to her mind, and 
shall meet again her dear kinsfolk who are far away. They who hear this poem 
which Valmfki made shall obtain all their desires and all their prayers shall be 
fulfilled." 



APPENDIX. 



Section XIII. Ravan Doomed. 

Afterwards Rishyasring said again to the King "I will perform 
another sacrificial act to secure thee a son." Then the son of 
Vibhandak, of subdued passions, seeking the happiness of the 
king, proceeded to perform the sacrifice for the accomplishment 
of his wishes. Hither were previously collected the gods, with the 
Gandharvas, the Siddhas and the sages, for the sake of receiving 
their respective shares, Brahma too, the sovereign of the gods, 
with Sthanu, and Narayana, chief of beings and the four support- 
ers of the universe, and the divine mothers of all the celestials, 
met together there. To the Asvamedha, the great sacrifice of 
the magnanimous monarch, came also Indra the glorious one, 
surrounded by the Maruts. Rishyasring then supplicated the gods 
assembled for their share of the sacrifice (saying), "This devout 
king Dasaratha, who, through the desire of offspring, confiding 
in you, has performed sacred austerities, and who has offered to 
you the sacrifice called Asvamedha, is about to perform another 
sacrifice for the sake of obtaining sons: To him thus desirous of 
offspring be pleased to grant the blessing: I supplicate you all 
with joined hands. May he have four sons, renowned through the 
universe." The gods replied to the sage's son supplicating with 
joined hands, "Be it so: thou, O Brahman, art ever to be regarded 
by us, as the king is in a peculiar manner. The lord of men by 
this sacrifice shall obtain the great object of his desires." Having 
thus said, the gods preceded by Indra, disappeared. 



1788 The Ramayana 

They all then having seen that (sacrifice) performed by the 
great sage according to the ordinance went to Prajapati the lord 
of mankind, and with joined hands addressed Brahma the giver 
of blessings, "O Brahma, the Raksha Ravana by name, to whom 
a blessing was awarded by thee, through pride troubleth all of 
us the gods, and even the great sages, who perpetually practise 
sacred austerities. We, O glorious one, regarding the promise 
formerly granted by thy kindness that he should be invulnerable 
to the gods, the Danavas and the Yakshas have born (sic) all, 
(his oppression); this lord of Rakshas therefore distresses the 
universe; and, inflated by this promise unjustly vexes the divine 
sages, the Yakshas, and Gandharvas, the Asuras, and men: where 
Ravana remains there the sun loses his force, the winds through 
fear of him do not blow; the fire ceases to burn; the rolling ocean, 
seeing him, ceases to move its waves. Visravas, distressed by his 
power, has abandoned Lanka and fled. O divine one save us from 
Ravana, who fills the world with noise and tumult. O giver of 
desired things, be pleased to contrive a way for his destruction." 

Brahma thus informed by the devas, reflecting, replied, "Oh! 
I have devised the method for slaying this outrageous tyrant. 
Upon his requesting, 'May I be invulnerable to the divine sages, 
[508] the Gaundharvas, the Yakshas, the Rakshasas and the serpents,' 

I replied 'Be it so.' This Raksha, through contempt, said nothing 
respecting man; therefore this wicked one shall be destroyed by 
man." The gods, preceded by Sakra, hearing these words spoken 
by Brahma, were filled with joy. 

At this time Vishnu the glorious, the lord of the world, ar- 
rayed in yellow, with hand ornaments of glowing gold, riding 
on Vinateya, as the sun on a cloud, arrived with his conch, his 
discus, and his club in his hand. Being adored by the excellent 
celestials, and welcomed by Brahma, he drew near and stood be- 
fore him. All the gods then addressed Vishnu, "O Madhusudana, 
thou art able to abolish the distress of the distressed. We intreat 
thee, be our sanctuary, O Vishnu." Vishnu replied, "Say, what 



Section XIII. Ravan Doomed. 1789 

shall I do?" The celestials hearing these his words added further. 
"The virtuous, the encourager of excellence, eminent for truth, 
the firm observer of his vows, being childless, is performing 
an Asvamedha for the purpose of obtaining offspring. For the 
sake of the good of the universe, we intreat thee, O Vishnu, to 
become his son. Dividing thyself into four parts, in the wombs 
of his three consorts equal to Hari, Sri, and Kirti, assume the 
sonship of king Dasaratha, the lord of Ayodhya, eminent in the 
knowledge of duty, generous and illustrious, as the great sages. 
Thus becoming man, O Vishnu, conquer in battle Ravana, the 
terror of the universe, who is invulnerable to the gods. This 
ignorant Rakshasa Ravana, by the exertion of his power, afflicts 
the gods, the Gandharvaa, the Siddhas, and the most excellent 
sages; these sages, the Gandharvas, and the Apsaras, sporting in 
the forest Nandana have been destroyed by that furious one. We, 
with the sages, are come to thee seeking his destruction. The 
Siddhas, the Gandharvas, and the Yakshas betake themselves 
to thee, thou art our only refuge; O Deva, afflicter of enemies, 
regard the world of men, and destroy the enemy of the gods." 

Vishnu, the sovereign of the gods, the chief of the celestials, 
adored by all beings, being thus supplicated, replied to all the 
assembled gods (standing) before Brahma, "Abandon fear; peace 
be with you; for your benefit having killed Ravana the cruel, 
destructively active, the cause of fear to the divine sages, together 
with all his posterity, his courtiers and counsellors, and his re- 
lations, and friends, protecting the earth, I will remain incarnate 
among men for the space of eleven thousand years." 

Having given this promise to the gods, the divine Vishnu, 
ardent in the work, sought a birth-place among men. Dividing 
himself into four parts, he whose eyes resemble the lotus and the 
pulasa, the lotus petal-eyed, chose for his father Dasaratha the 
sovereign of men. The divine sages then with the Gandharvas, 
the Rudras, and the (different sorts of) Apsaras, in the most 
excellent strains, praised the destroyer of Madhu, (saying) "Root 



[509] 



1790 The Ramayana 

up Ravana, of fervid energy, the devastator, the enemy of Indra 
swollen with pride. Destroy him, who causes universal lamen- 
tation, the annoyer of the holy ascetics, terrible, the terror of 
the devout Tapaswis. Having destroyed Ravana, tremendously 
powerful, who causes universal weeping, together with his army 
and friends, dismissing all sorrow, return to heaven, the place 
free from stain and sin, and protected by the sovereign of the 
celestial powers." 

Thus far the Section, containing the plan for the death of 
Ravan. 

Carey and Marshman. 



Caput XIV. RATIO NECANDI 
RAVANAE EXCOGITATA. 

Prudens ille, voluminum sacrorum gnarus, responsum quod ded- 
erat aliquamdiu meditatus, mente ad se revocata regem deuno 
est effatus: Parabo tibi aliud sacrum, genitale, prolis masculae 
adipiscendae gratia, cum carminibus in Atharvanis exordio ex- 
pressis rite peragendum. Turn coepit modestus Vibhandaci filius, 
regis commodis intentus, parare sacrum, quo eius desiderium 
expleret. Iam'antea eo convenerant, ut suam quisque portionem 
acciperent, Di cum fidicinum coelestium choris, Beatique cum 
Sapientibus; Brachman Superum regnator, Sthanus nee non au- 
gustus Narayanus, Indrasque almus, coram visendus Ventorum 
cohorte circumdatus, in magno isto sacrificio equino regis mag- 
nanimi. Ibidem vates ille deos, qui portiones suas accipiendi 
gratia advenerant, apprecatus, En inquit, hicce ex Dasarathus 
filiorum desiderio castimoniis adstrictus, fidei plenus, vestrum 
numen adoravit sacrificio equino. Nunc iterum accingit se ad 



1791 



aliud sacrum peragendum: quamobrem aequum est, ut filios 
cupienti vos faveatis. Ille ego, qui manus supplices tendo, vos 
universos pro eo apprecor: nascantur ei filii quatuor, faina per 
triplicem mundum clari. Divi supplicem vatis filium invicem 
affari: Fiat quod petis! Tu nobis, virsancte, imprimis es veneran- 
dus, nee minus rex ille; compos fiet voti sui egregii hominum 
princeps. Ita locuti Di Indra duce, ex oculis evanuerunt. 

Superi vero, legitime in concilio congregati. Brachmanem 
mundi creatorem his verbis compellarunt: Tuo munere auctus, 
O Brachman! gigas nomine Ravanas, prae superbia nos omnes 
vexat, pariterque Sapientes castimoniis gaudentes. A te pro- 
pitio olim ex voto ei hoc munus concessum fuit, ut ne a diis, 
Danuidis, Geniisve necari posset. Nos, oraculum tuum reveriti, 
facinora eius qualiacunque toleramus. At ille gigantum tyrannus 
ternos mundos gravibus iniuriis vexat Deos, Sapientes, Genios, 
Fidicines coelestes, Titanes, mortales denique, exsuperat ille ae- 
gre cohibendus, tuoque munere demens. Non ibi calet sol, neque 
Ventus prae timore spirat, nee flagrat ignis, ubi Ravanas versatur. 
Ipse oceanus, vagis fluctibus redimitus, isto viso stat immotus; 
eiectus fuit e sede sua Cuverus, huius robore vexatus. Ergo 
ingens nobis periculum imminet ab hoc gigante visu horribili; 
tuum est, alme Parens ! auxilium parare, quo hie deleatur. Ita ad- 
monitus ille a diis universis, paulisper meditatus, Ehem! inquit, 
hancce inveni rationem nefarium istum necandi. Petierat is a 
me, ut a Gandharvis, a Geniis, a Divis, Danuibus Gigantibusque 
necari non posset et me annuente voto suo potitus est. Prae con- 
temptu vero monstrum illud homines non commemoravit: ideo 
ab homine est necandus: nullum aliud exstat leti genus, quod ei 
sit fatale. Postquam audiverant gratum hunc sermonem Brach- 
manis ore prolatum, Di cum duce suo Indra summopere gaudio 
erecti sunt. Eodem temporis momento Vishnus, istuc accessit, 
splendore insignis, concham, discum et clavum manibus gestans, 
croceo vestitu, mundi dominus, vulturis Vinateii dorso, sicuti 
sol nimbo, vectus, armillas ex auro candente gerens, salutatus a 



1792 The Ramayana 

Superum primoribus. Quem laudibus celebratum reverenter Di 
universi compellarunt. Tu animantium afflictorum es vindex, 
Madhus interfector! quamobrem nos afflicti te apprecamur. Sis 
praesidio nobis numine tuo inconcusso. Dicite, inquit Vishnus, 
[510] quid pro vobis facere me oporteat. Audito eius sermone, Di hunc 

in modum respondent: Rex quidam, nomine Dasarathus, austeris 
castimoniis sese castigavit, litavit sacrificio equino, prolis cu- 
pidus et prole carens. Nostra hortatu tu, Vishnus, conditionem 
natorum eius subeas: ex tribus eius uxoribus, Pudicitiae, Venus- 
tatis et Famae similibus, nasci, velis, temetipsum quadrifariam 
dividens. Ibi tu in humanam naturam conversus Ravanam, gravis- 
simam mundi pestem, diis insuperabilem, O Vishnus! proelio 
caede. Gigas ille vecors Ravanas Deos cum Fidicinum choris, 
Beatos et Sapientes praestantissimos vexat, audacia superbiens. 
Etenim ab hoc furioso Sapientes Fidicines et nymphae, ludentes 
in Nandano viridario, sunt proculcati. Tu es nostrum omnium 
summa salus, divine bellator! Ut deoram hostes extinguas, ad 
sortem humanam animum converte. Augustus ille Narayanus, 
diis hunc in modum coram hortantibus, eosdem apto hoc sermone 
compellavit: Quare, quaeso, hac in re negotium vestrum a me po- 
tissimum, corporea specie palam facto, est peragendum aut unde 
tantus vobis terror fuit iniectus? His verbis a Vishnu interrogati 
Di talia proferre: Terror nobis instat, O Vishnus! a Ravana mundi 
direptore; a quo nos vindicare, corpore humano assumpto, tuum 
est. Nemo alius coelicoiarum praeter te hunc scelestum enecare 
potis est. Nimirum ille, O hostium domitor! per diuturnum tem- 
pus sese excruciaverat severissima abstinentia, qua magnus hicce 
rerum Parens propitius ipsi redditus est. Itaque almus votorum 
sponsor olim ei concessit securitatem ab ommibus animantibus, 
hominibus tamen exceptis. Hinc ilium, voti compotem, non ali- 
unde quam ab homine necis periculum urget: tu ergo, humanitate 
assumpta eum intertice. Sic monitus Vishnus, Superum princeps, 
quem mundus universus adorat, magnum Parentem oeterosque 
deos, in concilio congregatos, recti auctores, affatur: Mittite 



1793 



timorem; bene bobis eveniat! Vestrae salutis gratia, postquam 
praelio necavero Ravanam cum filiis nepotibusque, cum amicis, 
ministris, cognatis sociisque, crudelem istum aegre cohibendum, 
qui divinis Sapientibus terrorem meutit, per decern millia anno- 
rum decies centenis additis, commorabor in mortalium sedibus, 
orbem terrarum imperio regens. Turn divini sapientes et Fidicines 
conjuncti cum Rudris nympharumque choris celebravere Madhus 
interfectorem hymnis, quales sedem aetheriam decent. 

"Ravanam ilium insolentem, acri impetu actum, superbia ela- 
tum, Superum hostem, tumultus cientem, bonorum piorumque 
pestem, humanitate assumpta pessamdare tuum est." 

SCHLEGEL. 



Caput XIV. IL MEZZO STABILITO PER 
UCCIDERE RAVANO. 

Ma Riseyasringo soggiunse poscia al re: Tapprestero io un altro 
rito santissimo, genitale, onde tu conseguisca la prole che tu 
brami. E in quel punto stesso il saggio figliulo di Vibhandaco, 
intento alia prosperita del re, pose mano al sacro rito per condurre 
ad effetto il suo desiderio. Gia erano prima, per ricevere ciascuno 
la sua parte, qui convenuti al gran sacrifizio del re magnanimo 
l'Asvamedha, i Devi coi Gandharvi, i Siddhi e i Muni, Brahma 
Signor dei Sari, Sthanu e 1' Augusto Narayana, i quattio custodi 
dell' universo e le Madri degli Iddu, i Yacsi insieme cogli Dei, 
e il sovrano, venerando Indra, visibile, circondato dalla schiera [511] 
dei Maruti. Quivi cosi parlo Riseyasringo agli Dei venuti a parte- 
cipare del sacrifizio: Questo e il re Dasaratha, che per desiderio 
di progenie gia s' astrinse ad osservanze austere, e teste pieno di 
fede ha a voi, O eccelsi, sacrificato con un Asvamedha. Ora egli, 
sollecito d' aver figli, si dispone ad adempiere un nuovo rito; 



1794 The Ramayana 

vogliate essere favorevole a lui che sospira progenie. Io alzo a 
voi supplici le mani, e voi tutti per lui imploro: nascano a lui 
quattro figli degni d'essere celebrati pei tre mondi. Risposero gli 
Dei al supplichevole figliuolo del Risci: Sia fatto cio che chiedi; 
a te ed al re parimente si debbe da noi, O Brahmano, sommo 
pregio; canseguira il re per questo sacro rito il suo suppremo 
desiderio. Cio detto disparvero i Numi preceduti da Indra. 

Poiche videro gli Dei compiersi debitamente dal gran Risci 
l'oblazione, venuti al cospetto di Brahma facitor del mondo, sig- 
nor delle creature, cosi parlarono reverenti a lui dator di grazie: 
O Brahma, un Racsaso per nome Ravano, eui tu fosti largo del 
tuo favore, e per superbia infesto a noi tutti e ai grandi Saggi 
penitenti. Un di, O Nume, augusto, tu propizio a lui gli accordasti 
il favore, ch' egli bramava, di non poter essere ucciso dagli Dei, 
dai Danavi ne dai Yacsi: noi venerando i tuoi oracoli, ogni cosa 
sopportiamo da costui. Quindi il signor dei Racsasi infesta con 
perpetue offese i tre mondi, i Devi, i Risci, i Yacsi ed i Gandharvi, 
gli Asuri e gli uomini: tutti egli opprime indegnamente inorgogli- 
to pel tuo dono. Cola dove si trova Ravano, piu non isfavilla 
per timore il sole, piu non spira il vento, piu non fiammeggia 
il fuoco: 1' oceano stesso cui fan corona i vasti flutti, veggendo 
costui, tutto si turba e si commuove. Stretto dalla forza di costui 
e ridotto alio stremo dovette Vaisravano abbandonare Lanca. Da 
questo Ravano, terror del mondo, tu ne proteggi, O almo Nume: 
degna, O dator d'ogni bene, trovar modo ad estirpar costui. Fatto 
di queste cose conscio dai Devi, stette alquanto meditando, poi 
rispose Brahma: Orsu! e stabilito il modo onde distruggere 
questo iniquo. Egli a me chiese, ed io gliel concessi, di non poter 
essere ucciso dai Devi, dai Risci, dai Gandharvi, dai Yacsi, dai 
Racsasi ne dai Serpenti; ma per disprezzo non fece menzione 
degli uomini quel Racso: or bene, sara quell' empio ucciso da 
un uomo. Udite le fauste parole profferte da Brahma, furono per 
ogni parte liete gli Iddii col loro duce Indra. In questo mezzo 
qui sopravvenne raggiante d'immensa luce il venerando Visnu, 



1795 



pensato da Brahma nell' immortal sua mente, siccome atto ad 
estirpar colui; Allora Brahma colla schiera de' Celesti cosi parlo 
a Visnu: Tu sei il conforto delle gente oppresse, O distruttor di 
Madhu: noi quindi a te supplichiamo af flitti : sia tu nostra sosteg- 
no, O Aciuto. Dite, loro rispose Visnu, quale cosa io debba far 
per voi; e gli Dei, udite queste parole, cosi soggiunsero: Un re per 
nome Dasaratha, giusto, virtuoso, veridico e pio, non ha progenie 
e la desidera: ei gia s' impose durissime penitenze, ed ora ha 
sacrificato con un Asvamedha: tu, per nostra consiglio, O Visnu, 
consenti a divenir suo figlio: fatte di te quattro parti, ti manifesta, 
O invocato dalle genti, nel seno delle quattro sue consorti, simili 
alia venusta Dea. Cosi esortato dagli Dei quivi presenti, l'augusto 
Narayana loro rispose queste opportune parole: Quale opra s'ha 
da me, fatto visible nel mondo, a compiere per voi, O Devi? 
e d'onde in voi cotal terrore? Intese le parole di Visnu, cosi 
risposero gli Dei: II nostro terrore. O Visnu, nasce da un Racsaso 
per nome Ravano, spavento dell' universe Vestendo umano 
corpo, tu debbi esterminar costui. Nessuno fra i Celesti, fuorche 
tu solo, e valevole ad uccidere quell' iniquo. Egli, O domator de' 
tuoi nemici, sostenne per lungo tempo acerbissime macerazioni: [512] 
per esse fu di lui contento l'augusto sommo Genitore: e un di gli 
accordo propizio la sicurezza da tutti gli esseri, eccettutine gli 
uomini. Per questo favore a lui concesso nou ha egli a temere 
offesa da alcuna parte, fuorche dall' uomo, percio, assumendo la 
natura umana, costui tu uccidi. Egli, il peggior di tutti i Racsasi, 
insano per la forza che gli infonde il dono avuto, da travaglio ai 
Devi ed ai Gaudharvi, ai Risci, ai Muni ed ai mortali. Egli, sicuro 
da morte pel favore ottenuto, e turbatore dei sacrifizj, nemico ed 
uccisor dei Brahmi, divoratore degli uomini, peste del mondo. 
Da lui furono assaliti re coi loro carri ed elefanti; altri percessi e 
fugati si dispersero per ogni dove. Da lui furono divorati Risci 
ed Apsarase: egli insomma oltracotato continuamente e quasi per 
ischerzo tutti travaglia i sette mondi. Percio, O terribile ai nemici 
e stabilita la morte di costui per opra d'un uomo; poich' un di 



1796 The Ramayana 

per superbia del dono tutti sprezzo gli uomini. Tu, O supremo 
fra i Numi, dei, umanandoti, estirpare questo tremendo, superbo 
Ravano, oltracotato, a noi nemico, terrore e flagello dei penitenti. 

GORRESIO. 



XIV. 

De nouveau Rishyacringa tint ce langage au Monarque: "Je vais 
celebrer un autre sacrifice, afin que le ciel accorde a tes vceux 
les enfants que tu souhaites." Cela dit, cherchant le bonheur du 
roi et pour raccomplissement de son desir, le fils puissant de 
Vibhandaka se mit a celebrer ce nouveau sacrifice. 

La auparavant, etaient venus deja recevoir une part de 1' of- 
frande les Dieux, accompagnes des Gaudharvas, et les Siddhas 
avec les Mounis divins, Brahma, le monarque des Souras, 1' 
immuable Siva, et 1' auguste Narayana, et les quatre gardiens vig- 
ilants du monde, et les meres des Immortels, et tous les Dieux, 
escortes des Yakshas, et le maitre eminent du ciel, Indra, qui 
se manifestait aux yeux, environne par 1' essaim des Maroutes. 
Alors ce jeune anachorete avait supplie tous les Dieux, que le 
desir d'une part dans 1' offrande avait conduits a 1' acwamedha, 
cette grande ceremonie de ce roi magnanime; et, dans ce moment, 
V epoux de Santa les conjurait ainsi pour la seconde fois: "Cet 
homme en prieres, c'est le roi Dacaratha, qui est prive de fils. II 
est rempli d' une foi vive; il s'est inflige de penibles austerites; 
il vous a deja servi, divinites augustes, le sacrifice d'un acwa- 
medha, et maintenant il s'etudie encore a vous plaire avec ce 
nouveau sacrifice dans l'esperance que vous lui donnerez les fils, 
ou tendent ses desirs. Versez done sur lui votre bienveillance et 
daignez sourire a son vceu pour des fils. C'est pour lui que moi 
ici, les mains jointes, je vous adresse a tous mes supplications: 
envoyez-lui quatre fils, qui soient vantes dans les trois mondes!" 



XIV. 1797 

"0m! repondirent les Dieux au fils suppliant du rishi; tu 
merites que nous t'ecoutions avec faveur, toi, brahme saint, et 
meme, en premier lieu, ce roi. Comme recompense de ces 
differents sacrifices, le monarque obtendra cet objet le plus cher 
de ses desirs." 

Ayant aussi parle et vu que le grand saint avait mis fin suiv- 
ant les rites a son pieux sacrifice, les Dieux, Indra a leur tete, 
s'evanouissent dans le vide des airs et se rendent vers 1' architecte 
des mondes, le souverain des creatures, le donateur des biens, 
vers Brahma enfin, auquel tous, les mains jointes, ils adressent 
les paroles suivantes: "O Brahma, un rakshasa, nomme Ravana, 
tourne su mal les graces, qu'il a recues de toi. Dans son orgueil, [513] 
il nous opprime tous; il opprime avec nous les grands anchoretes, 
qui se font un bonheur des macerations: car jadis, ayant su te 
plaire, O Bhagavat, il a recu de toi ce don incomparable. 'Oui, 
as-tu dit, exaucant le vceu du mauvais Genie; Dieu. Yaksha ou 
Demon ne pourra jamais causer ta mort!' Et nous, par qui ta 
parole est respectee, nous avons tout supporte de ce roi des rak- 
shasas, qui ecrase de sa tyrannie les trois mondes, ou il promene 1' 
injure impunement. Enorgueilli de ce don victorieux, il opprime 
indignement les Dieux, les rishis, les Yakshas, les Gandharvas, 
les Asouras et les enfants de Manou. La ou se tient Ravana, la 
peur empeche le soleil d'echauffer, le vent craint de souffler, et 
le feu n'ose flamboyer. A son aspect, la guirlande meme des 
grands flots tremble au sein de la mer. Accable par sa vigueur 
indomptable, Kouvera defait lui a cede Lanka. Suave-nous done, 
6 toi, qui reposes daus le bonheur absolu; sauve-nous de Ravana, 
le fleau des mondes. Daigne, 6 toi, qui souris aux vceux du sup- 
pliant, daigne imaginer un expedient pour oter la vie a ce cruel 
Demon." Les Dieux ayant ainsi denonce leurs maux a Brahma, 
il reflechit un instant et leur tint ce langage: "Bien, voici que 
j'ai decouvert un moyen pour tuer ce Genie scelerat. Que ni les 
Dieux, a-t-il dit, ni les rishis, ni les Gandharvas ni les Yakshas, ni 
les rakshasas, ni les Nagas meme ne puissent me donner la mort! 



1798 The Ramayana 

Soit lui ai-je repondu. Mais, par dedain pour la force humaine, 
les hommes n'ont pas ete compris daus sa demande. C'est done 
par la main d' un homme, qu'il faut immoler ce mechant." Ainsi 
tombee de la bouche du createur, cette parole salutaire satisfit 
pleinement le roi des habitants du ciel et tous les Dieux avec lui. 
La, dans ce meme instant, survint le fortune Visnou, revetu d' une 
splendeur infinie; car e'etait a lui, que Brahma avait pense dans 
son ame pour la mort du tyran. Celui-ci done avec l'essaim des 
Immortels adresse a Vishnou ces paroles: "Meurtrier de Madhou, 
comme tu aimes a tirer de l'affliction les etres malheureux, nous 
te supplions, nous qui sommes plonges dans la tristesse, Divinite 
auguste, sois notre asyle!" "Dites! reprit Vishnou; que dois-je 
faire?" "Ayant oui les paroles de l'ineffable, tous les Dieux re- 
pondirent: II est un roi nomme Dacaratha; il a embrasse une 
tres-dure penitence; il a celebre meme le sacrifice d'un acwa- 
medha, parce qu'il n'a point de fils et qu'il veut en obtenir du ciel. 
II est inebranlable dans sa piete, il est vante pour ses vertus; la 
justice est son caractere, la verite est sa parole. Acquiesce done 
a notre demande, 6 toi, Vishnou, et consens a naitre comme son 
fils. Divise en quatre portions de toi-meme, daigne, 6 toi, qui 
foules aux pieds tes ennemis, daigne t' incarner dans le sein de ses 
trois epouses, belles comme la deesse de la beaute." Narayana, 
le maitre, non perceptible aux sens, mais qui alors s' etait rendu 
visible, Narayana repondit cette parole salutaire aux Dieux, qui i 
invitaient a cet heroique avatdra. Quelle chose, une fois revetu 
de cette incarnation, faudra-t-il encore que je fasse pour vous, 
et de quelle part vient la terreur, qui vous trouble ainsi? A ces 
mots du grand Vishnou: "C'est le demon Ravana, reprirent les 
Dieux; c'est lui, Vishnou, cette desolation des mondes, qui nous 
inspire un tel effroi. Enveloppe-toi d'un corps, humain, et qu'il 
te plaise arracher du monde cette blessante epine; car nul autre 
que toi parmi les habitants du ciel n'est capable d'immoler ce 
pecheur. Sache que longtemps il s'est impose la plus austere 
penitence, et que par elle il s'est rendu agreable au supreme 



Uttarakanda. 1799 

ayeul de toutes les creatures. Aussi le distributeur ineffable des 
graces lui a-t-il accorde ce don insigne d'etre invulnerable a tous 
les etres, 1' homme seul excepte. Puisque, doue ainsi de cette [514] 
faveur, la mort terrible et sure ne peut venir a lui de nulle autre 
part que de l'homme, va, dompteur puissant de tes ennemis, va 
dans la condition humaine, et tue-le. Car ce don, auquel on ne 
peut resister, elevant au plus haut point l'ivresse de sa force, le 
vil rakshasa tourmente les Dieux, les rishis, les Gandharvas, les 
hommes sanctifies par la penitence; et, quoique, destructeur des 
sacrifices, lacerateur des Saintes Ecritures, ennemi des brahmes, 
devorateur des hommes, cette faveur incomparable sauve de la 
mort Ravana le triste fleau des mondes. II ose attaquer les rois, 
que defendant les chars de guerre, que remparent les elephants: 
d'autres blesses et mis en fuite, sont dissipes 5a et la devant lui. II 
a devore des saints, il a devore meme une foule d'apsaras. Sans 
cesse, dans son delire, il s'amuse a tourmenter les sept mondes. 
Comme on vient de nous apprendre qu ' il n'a point daigne parler 
d'eux ce jour, que lui fut donnee cette faveur, dont il abuse, entre 
dans un corps humain, 6 toi, qui peux briser tes ennemis, et jette 
sans vie a tes pieds, roi puissant des treize Dieux, ce Ravana su- 
perbe, d'une force epouvantable, d'un orgueil immense, l'ennemi 
de tous les ascetes, ce ver, qui les ronge, cette cause de leurs 
gemissements." 

lei, dans le premier tome du saint Rdmdyana, Finit le quatorz- 
ieme chapitre, nomme: Un Expedient pour tuer Ravana. 

HlPPOLYTE FAUCHE. 



Uttarakanda. 

The Ramayan ends, epically complete, with the triumphant return 
of Rama and his rescued queen to Ayodhya and his consecration 
and coronation in the capital of his forefathers. Even if the 



1 800 The Ramayana 

story were not complete, the conclusion of the last Canto of the 
sixth Book, evidently the work of a later hand than Valmfki's, 
which speaks of Rama's glorious and happy reign and promises 
blessings to those who read and hear the Ramayan, would be 
sufficient to show that, when these verses were added, the poem 
was considered to be finished. The Uttarakanda or Last Book 
is merely an appendix or a supplement and relates only events 
antecedent and subsequent to those described in the original po- 
em. Indian scholars however, led by reverential love of tradition, 
unanimously ascribe this Last Book to Valmfki, and regard it as 
part of the Ramayan. 

Signor Gorresio has published an excellent translation of the 
Uttarakanda, in Italian prose, from the recension current in Ben- 
gal; 1030 and Mr. Muir has epitomized a portion of the book in the 
Appendix to the Fourth Part of his Sanskrit Texts (1862). From 
these scholars I borrow freely in the following pages, and give 
[515] them my hearty thanks for saving me much wearisome labour. 

"After Rama had returned to Ayodhya and taken possession 
of the throne, the rishis [saints] assembled to greet him, and 



1030 The Academy, Vol. III., No 43, contains an able and interesting notice 
of this work from the pen of the Professor of Sanskrit in the University of 
Cambridge: "The Uttarakanda," Mr. Cowell remarks, "bears the same relation 
to the Ramayana as the Cyclic poems to the Iliad. Just as the Cypria of Stasinus, 
the Mthiopis of Arctinus, and the little Iliad of Lesches completed the story of 
the Iliad, and not only added the series of events which preceded and followed 
it, but also founded episodes of their own on isolated allusions in Homer, so 
the Uttarakanda is intended to complete the Ramayana, and at the same time 
to supplement it by intervening episodes to explain casual allusions or isolated 
incidents which occur in it. Thus the early history of the giant Ravana and his 
family fills nearly forty Chapters, and we have a full account of his wars with 
the gods and his conquest of Lanka, which all happened long before the action 
of the poem commences, just as the Cypria narrated the birth and early history 
of Helen, and the two expeditions of the Greeks against Troy; and the latter 
chapters continue the history of the hero Rama after his triumphant return to his 
paternal kingdom, and the poem closes with his death and that of his brothers, 
and the founding by their descendants of various kingdoms in different parts 
of India." 



Uttarakanda. 1801 

Agastya, in answer to his questions recounted many particulars 
regarding his old enemies. In the Krita Yuga (or Golden Age) 
the austere and pious Brahman rishi Pulastya, a son of Brahma, 
being teased with the visits of different damsels, proclaimed that 
any one of them whom he again saw near his hermitage should 
become pregnant. This had not been heard by the daughter of 
the royal rishi Trinavindu, who one day came into Pulastya's 
neighbourhood, and her pregnancy was the result (Sect. 2, vv. 
14 ff.). After her return home, her father, seeing her condition, 
took her to Pulastya, who accepted her as his wife, and she bore 
a son who received the name of Visravas. This son was, like his 
father, an austere and religious sage. He married the daughter of 
the muni Bharadvaja, who bore him a son to whom Brahma gave 
the name of Vaisravan-Kuvera (Sect. 3, vv. 1 ff.). He performed 
austerities for thousands of years, when he obtained from Brahma 
as a boon that he should be one of the guardians of the world 
(along with Indra, Varuna, and Yama) and the god of riches. He 
afterwards consulted his father Visravas about an abode, and at 
his suggestion took possession of the city of Lanka, which had 
formerly been built by Visvakarman for the Rakshasas, but had 
been abandoned by them through fear of Vishnu, and was at that 
time unoccupied. Rama then (Sect. 4) says he is surprised to hear 
that Lanka had formerly belonged to the Rakshasas, as he had 
always understood that they were the descendants of Pulastya, 
and now he learns that they had also another origin. He therefore 
asks who was their ancestor, and what fault they had committed 
that they were chased away by Vishnu. Agastya replies that when 
Brahma created the waters, he formed certain beings, — some of 
whom received the name of Rakshasas, — to guard them. The 
first Rakshasas kings were Heti and Praheti. Heti married a sister 
of Kala (Time). She bore him a son Vidyutkesa, who in his turn 
took for his wife Lankatanka[t.]a, the daughter of Sandhya (V. 
21). She bore him a son Sukesa, whom she abandoned, but he 
was seen by Siva as he was passing by with his wife Parvati, 



1 802 The Ramayana 

who made the child as old as his mother, and immortal, and 
gave him a celestial city. Sukesa married a Gandharvi called 
Devavati who bore three sons, Malyavat, Sumali and Mali. These 
sons practised intense austerities, when Brahma appeared and 
conferred on them invincibility and long life. They then harassed 
the gods. Visvakarma gave them a city, Lanka, on the mountain 
[516] Trikuta, on the shore of the southern ocean, which he had 

built at the command of Indra. . . . The three Rakshasa, Malyavat 
and his two brothers, then began to oppress the gods, rishis, 
etc.; who (Sect. 6, v. 1 ff.) in consequence resort for aid to 
Mahadeva, who having regard to his protege Sukesa the father of 
Malyavat, says that he cannot kill the Rakshasas, but advises the 
suppliants to go to Vishnu, which they do, and receive from him 
a promise that he will destroy their enemies. The three Rakshasa 
kings, hearing of this, consult together, and proceed to heaven 
to attack the gods. Vishnu prepares to meet them. The battle 
is described in the seventh section. The Rakshasas are defeated 
by Vishnu with great slaughter, and driven back to Lanka, one 
of their leaders, Mali, being slain. Malyavat remonstrates with 
Vishnu, who was assaulting the rear of the fugitives, for his 
unwarrior-like conduct, and wishes to renew the combat (Sect. 
8, v. 3 ff.). Vishnu replies that he must fulfil his promise to 
the gods by slaying the Rakshasas, and that he would destroy 
them even if they fled to Patala. These Rakshasas, Agastya says, 
were more powerful than Ravana, and, could only be destroyed 
by Narayana, i.e. by Rama himself, the eternal, indestructible 
god. Sumali with his family lived for along time in Patala, while 
Kuvera dwelt in Lanka. In section 9 it is related that Sumali once 
happened to visit the earth, when he observed Kuvera going in 
his chariot to see his father Visravas. This leads him to consider 
how he might restore his own fortunes. He consequently desires 
his daughter Kaikasi to go and woo Visravas, who receives her 
graciously. She becomes the mother of the dreadful Ravana, 
of the huge Kumbhakarna, of Surpanakha, and of the righteous 



Uttarakanda. 1803 

Vibhishana, who was the last son. These children grow up in the 
forest. Kumbhakarna goes about eating rishis. Kuvera comes to 
visit his father, when Kaikasi takes occasion to urge her son Ra- 
vana to strive to become like his brother (Kuvera) in splendour. 
This Ravana promises to do. He then goes to the hermitage of 
Gokarna with his brothers to perform austerity. In section 10 
their austere observances are described: after a thousand years' 
penance Ravana throws his head into the fire. He repeats this 
oblation nine times after equal intervals, and is about to do it the 
tenth time, when Brahma appears, and offers a boon. Ravana 
asks immortality, but is refused. He then asks that he may be 
indestructible by all creatures more powerful than men; which 
boon is accorded by Brahma together with the recovery of all the 
heads he had sacrificed and the power of assuming any shape 
he pleased. Vibhishana asks as his boon that even amid the 
greatest calamities he may think only of righteousness, and that 
the weapon of Brahma may appear to him unlearnt, etc. The god 
grants his request, and adds the gift of immortality. When Brah- 
ma is about to offer a boon to Kumbhakarna, the gods interpose, 
as, they say, he had eaten seven Apsarases and ten followers of 
Indra, besides rishis and men; and beg that under the guise of a 
boon stupefaction may be inflicted on him. Brahma thinks on 
Sarasvati, who arrives and, by Brahma's command, enters into 
Kumbhakarna's mouth that she may speak for him. Under this 
influence he asks that he may receive the boon of sleeping for 
many years, which is granted. When however Sarasvati has left 
him, and he recovers his own consciousness, he perceives that he 
has been deluded. Kuvera by his father's advice, gives up the city 
of Lanka to Ravan." 1031 Ravana marries (Sect. 12) Mandodari 
the beautiful daughter of the Asur Maya whose name has several [517] 
times occurred in the Ramayan as that of an artist of wonderful 
skill. She bears a son Meghanada or the Roaring Cloud who was 



MUIR{FNS, Sanskrit Texts, Part IV., pp. 414 ff. 



1804 The Ramayana 

afterwards named Indrajft from his victory over the sovereign 
of the skies. The conquest of Kuvera, and the acquisition of 
the magic self-moving chariot which has done much service in 
the Ramayan, form the subject of sections XIII., XIV. and XV. 
"The rather pretty story of Vedavati is related in the seventeenth 
section, as follows: Ravana in the course of his progress through 
the world, comes to the forest on the Himalaya, where he sees 
a damsel of brilliant beauty, but in ascetic garb, of whom he 
straightway becomes enamoured. He tells her that such an austere 
life is unsuited to her youth and attractions, and asks who she is 
and why she is leading an ascetic existence. She answers that she 
is called Vedavati, and is the vocal daughter of Vrihaspati's son, 
the rishi Kusadhwaja, sprung from him during his constant study 
of the Veda. The gods, gandharvas, etc., she says, wished that 
she should choose a husband, but her father would give her to no 
one else than to Vishnu, the lord of the world, whom he desired 
for his son-in-law. Vedavati then proceeds: 'In order that I may 
fulfil this desire of my father in respect of Narayana, I wed him 
with my heart. Having entered into this engagement I practise 
great austerity. Narayana and no other than he, Purushottama, is 
my husband. From the desire of obtaining him, I resort to this 
severe observance.' Rav ana's passion is not in the least dimin- 
ished by this explanation and he urges that it is the old alone 
who should seek to become distinguished by accumulating merit 
through austerity, prays that she who is so young and beautiful 
shall become his bride; and boasts that he is superior to Vishnu. 
She rejoins that no one but he would thus contemn that deity. 
On receiving this reply he touches the hair of her head with the 
tip of his finger. She is greatly incensed, and forthwith cuts off 
her hair and tells him that as he has so insulted her, she cannot 
continue to live, but will enter into the fire before his eyes. She 
goes on 'Since I have been insulted in the forest by thee who 
art wicked-hearted, I shall be born again for thy destruction. 
For a man of evil desire cannot be slain by a woman; and the 



Uttarakanda. 1805 

merit of my austerity would be lost if I were to launch a curse 
against thee. But if I have performed or bestowed or sacrificed 
aught may I be born the virtuous daughter, not produced from 
the womb, of a righteous man.' Having thus spoken she entered 
the blazing fire. Then a shower of celestial flowers fell (from 
every part of the sky). It is she, lord, who, having been Vedavati 
in the Krita age, has been born (in the Treta age) as the daughter 
of the king of the Janakas, and (has become) thy [Rama's] bride; 
for thou art the eternal Vishnu. The mountain-like enemy who 
was [virtually] destroyed before by her wrath, has now been slain 
by her having recourse to thy superhuman energy." On this the 
commentator remarks: "By this it is signified that Sita was the 
principal cause of Ravana's death; but the function of destroying 
him is ascribed to Rama." On the words, "thou art Vishnu," in 
the preceding verse the same commentator remarks: "By this it 
is clearly affirmed that Sita was Lakshmi." This is what Parasara 
says: "In the god's life as Rama, she became Sita, and in his birth 
as Krishna [she became] Rukmini." 1032 

In the following section (XVIII.) "Ravana is described as 
violently interrupting a sacrifice which is being performed by 
king Marutta, and the assembled gods in terror assume differ- [518] 
ent shapes to escape; Indra becomes a peacock, Yama a crow, 
Kuvera a lizard, and Varuna a swan; and each deity bestows a 
boon on the animal he had chosen. The peacock's tail recalls 
Indra's thousand eyes; the swan's colour becomes white, like the 
foam of the ocean (Varuna being its lord); the lizard obtains a 
golden colour; and the crow is never to die except when killed 
by a violent death, and the dead are to enjoy the funeral oblations 
when they have been devoured by the crows." 1033 

Ravan then attacks Arjuna or Karttavirya the mighty king 
of Mahishmati on the banks of the Narmada, and is defeated, 
captured and imprisoned by Arjuna. At the intercession of Pu- 



MUIR{FNS, Sanskrit Texts, Part IV., 391, 392. 
See Academy, III., 43. 



1 806 The Ramayana 

lastya (Sect. XXII.) he is released from his bonds. He then 
visits Kishkindha where he enters into alliance with Bali the 
King of the Vanars: "We will have all things in common," says 
Ravan, "dames, sons, cities and kingdoms, food, vesture, and 
all delights." His next exploit is the invasion of the kingdom of 
departed spirits and his terrific battle with the sovereign Yama. 
The poet in his description of these regions with the detested 
river with waves of blood, the dire lamentations, the cries for a 
drop of water, the devouring worm, all the tortures of the guilty 
and the somewhat insipid pleasures of the just, reminds one of 
the scenes in the under world so vividly described by Homer, 
Virgil, and Dante. Yama is defeated (Sect. XXVI.) by the giant, 
not so much by his superior power as because at the request of 
Brahma Yama refrains from smiting with his deadly weapon the 
Rakshas enemy to whom that God had once given the promise 
that preserved him. In the twenty-seventh section Ravan goes 
"under the earth into Patala the treasure-house of the waters 
inhabited by swarms of serpents and Daityas, and well defended 
by Varun." He subdues Bhogavati the city ruled by Vasuki and 
reduces the Nagas or serpents to subjection. He penetrates even 
to the imperial seat of Varun. The God himself is absent, but his 
sons come forth and do battle with the invader. The giant is vic- 
torious and departs triumphant. The twenty-eighth section gives 
the details of a terrific battle between Ravan and Mandhata King 
of Ayodhya, a distinguished ancestor of Rama. Supernatural 
weapons are employed on both sides and the issue of the conflict 
is long doubtful. But at last Mandhata prepares to use the mighty 
weapon "acquired by severe austerities through the grace and 
favour of Rudra." The giant would inevitably have been slain. 
But two pre-eminent Munis Pulastya and Galava beheld the fight 
through the power given by contemplation, and with words of 
exhortation they parted King Mandhata and the sovereign of the 
Rakshases. Ravan at last (Sect. XXXII.) returns homeward car- 
rying with him in his car Pushpak the virgin daughters of kings, 



Uttarakanda. 1807 

of Rishis, of Daityas, and Gandharvas whom he has seized upon 
his way. The thirty-sixth section describes a battle with Indra, 
in which the victorious Meghanada son of the giant, makes the 
King of the Gods his prisoner, binds him with his magic art, and 
carries him away (Sect. XXVII.) in triumph to Lanka. Brahma 
intercedes (Sect. XXXVIII.) and Indrajit releases his prisoner on 
obtaining in return the boon that sacrifice to the Lord of Fire shall 
always make him invincible in the coming battle. In sections 
XXXIX., XL, "we have a legend related to Rama by the sage 
Agastya to account for the stupendous strength of the monkey 
Hanuman, as it had been described in the Rdmdyana. Rama 
naturally wonders (as perhaps many readers of the Rdmdyana [519] 
have done since) why a monkey of such marvellous power and 
prowess had not easily overcome Bali and secured the throne for 
his friend Sugriva. Agastya replies that Hanuman was at that time 
under a curse from a Rishi, and consequently was not conscious 
of his own might." 1034 The whole story of the marvellous Vanar 
is here given at length, but nothing else of importance is added 
to the tale already given in the Ramayana. The Rishis or saints 
then (Sect. XL.) return to their celestial seats, and the Vanars, 
Rakshases and bears also (Sect. XLIII.) take their departure. The 
chariot Pushpak is restored to its original owner Kuvera, as has 
already been related in the Ramayan. 

The story of Rama and Sita is then continued, and we meet 
with matter of more human interest. The winter is past and the 
pleasant spring-time is come, and Rama and Sita sit together in 
the shade of the Asoka trees happy as Indra and Sachi when they 
drink in Paradise the nectar of the Gods. "Tell me, my beloved," 
says Rama, "for thou wilt soon be a mother, hast thou a wish 
in thy heart for me to gratify?" And Sita smiles and answers: "I 
long, O son of Raghu, to visit the pure and holy hermitages on 
the banks of the Ganges and to venerate the feet of the saints 



1034 Academy, Vol. III., No. 43. 



1808 The Ramayana 

who there perform their rigid austerities and live on roots and 
berries. This is my chief desire, to stand within the hermits' 
grove were it but for a single day." And Rama said: "Let not the 
thought trouble thee: thou shalt go to the grove of the ascetics." 
But slanderous tongues have been busy in Ayodhya, and Sita 
has not been spared. Rama hears that the people are lamenting 
his blind folly in taking back to his bosom the wife who was 
so long a captive in the palace of Ravan. Rama well knows her 
spotless purity in thought, word, and deed, and her perfect love 
of him; but he cannot endure the mockery and the shame and 
resolves to abandon his unsuspecting wife. He orders the sad but 
still obedient Lakshman to convey her to the hermitage which 
she wishes to visit and to leave her there, for he will see her face 
again no more. They arrive at the hermitage, and Lakshman tells 
her all. She falls fainting on the ground, and when she recovers 
her consciousness sheds some natural tears and bewails her cruel 
and undeserved lot. But she resolves to live for the sake of Rama 
and her unborn son, and she sends by Lakshman a dignified 
message to the husband who has forsaken her: "I grieve not for 
myself," she says "because I have been abandoned on account 
of what the people say, and not for any evil that I have done. 
The husband is the God of the wife, the husband is her lord and 
guide; and what seems good unto him she should do even at the 
cost of her life." 

Sita is honourably received by the saint Valmfki himself, and 
the holy women of the hermitage are charged to entertain and 
serve her. In this calm retreat she gives birth to two boys who 
receive the names of Kusa and Lava. They are carefully brought 
up and are taught by Valmfki himself to recite the Ramayan. 
The years pass by: and Rama at length determines to celebrate 
the Asvamedha or Sacrifice of the Steed. Valmfki, with his two 
young pupils, attends the ceremony, and the unknown princes 
recite before the delighted father the poem which recounts his 
deeds. Rama inquires into their history and recognizes them 



Uttarakanda. 1809 

as his sons. Sita is invited to return and solemnly affirm her 
innocence before the great assembly. 

"But Sita's heart was too full; this second ordeal was beyond 
even her power to submit to, and the poet rose above the ordinary 
Hindu level of women when he ventured to paint her conscious [520] 
purity as rebelling: 'Beholding all the spectators, and clothed in 
red garments, Sita clasping her hands and bending low her face, 
spoke thus in a voice choked with tears: "as I, even in mind, 
have never thought of any other than Rama, so may Madhavi 
the goddess of Earth, grant me a hiding-place." As Sita made 
this oath, lo! a marvel appeared. Suddenly cleaving the earth, a 
divine throne of marvellous beauty rose up, borne by resplendent 
dragons on their heads: and seated on it, the goddess of Earth, 
raising Sita with her arm, said to her, "Welcome to thee!" and 
placed her by her side. And as the queen, seated on the throne, 
slowly descended to Hades, a continuous shower of flowers fell 
down from heaven on her head.' 1035 " 

"Both the great Hindu epics thus end in disappointment and 
sorrow. In the Mahdbhdrata the five victorious brothers abandon 
the hardly won throne to die one by one in a forlorn pilgrimage 
to the Himalaya; and in the same way Rama only regains his 
wife, after all his toils, to lose her. It is the same in the later 
Homeric cycle — the heroes of the Iliad perish by ill-fated deaths. 
And even Ulysses, after his return to Ithaca, sets sail again to 
Thesprotia, and finally falls by the hand of his own son. But in 
India and Greece alike this is an afterthought of a self-conscious 
time, which has been subsequently added to cast a gloom on the 
strong cheerfulness of the heroic age." 1036 

"The termination of Rama's terrestrial career is thus told in 
Sections 116 ff. of the Uttarakanda. Time, in the form of an 
ascetic, comes to his palace gate, and asks, as the messenger 



1035 E. B. Cowell. Academy, No. 43. The story of Sita's banishment will be 
found roughly translated from the Raghuvansa, in the Additional Notes. 

1036 E. B. Cowell. Academy, Vol, III, No. 43. 



1810 The Ramay ana 

of the great rishi (Brahma) to see Rama. He is admitted and 
received with honour, but says, when he is asked what he has 
to communicate, that his message must be delivered in private, 
and that any one who witnesses the interview is to lose his life. 
Rama informs Lakshman of all this, and desires him to stand 
outside. Time then tells Rama that he has been sent by Brahma, 
to say that when he (Rama, i.e. Vishnu) after destroying the 
worlds was sleeping on the ocean, he had formed him (Brahma) 
from the lotus springing from his navel, and committed to him 
the work of creation; that he (Brahma) had then entreated Rama 
to assume the function of Preserver, and that the latter had in 
consequence become Vishnu, being born as the son of Aditi, 
and had determined to deliver mankind by destroying Ravana, 
and to live on earth ten thousand and ten hundred years; that 
period, adds Time, was now on the eve of expiration, and Rama 
could either at his pleasure prolong his stay on earth, or ascend 
to heaven and rule over the gods. Rama replies, that he had been 
born for the good of the three worlds, and would now return to 
the place whence he had come, as it was his function to fulfil the 
purposes of the gods. While they are speaking the irritable rishi 
Durvasas comes, and insists on seeing Rama immediately, under 
a threat, if refused, of cursing Rama and all his family." 

Lakshman, preferring to save his kinsman, though knowing 
that his own death must be the consequence of interrupting the 
interview of Rama with Time, enters the palace and reports the 
[521] rishi's message to Rama. Rama comes out, and when Durvasas 

has got the food he wished, and departed, Rama reflects with 
great distress on the words of Time, which require that Lakshman 
should die. Lakshman however exhorts Rama not to grieve, but 
to abandon him and not break his own promise. The counsellors 
concurring in this advice, Rama abandons Lakshman, who goes 
to the river Sarayii, suppresses all his senses, and is conveyed 
bodily by Indra to heaven. The gods are delighted by the arrival 
of the fourth part of Vishnu. Rama then resolves to install 



Uttarakanda. 1811 

Bharata as his successor and retire to the forest and follow Lak- 
shman. Bharata however refuses the succession, and determines 
to accompany his brother. Rama's subjects are filled with grief, 
and say they also will follow him wherever he goes. Messengers 
are sent to Satrughna, the other brother, and he also resolves 
to accompany Rama; who at length sets out in procession from 
his capital with all the ceremonial appropriate to the "great 
departure," silent, indifferent to external objects, joyless, with 
Sri on his right, the goddess Earth on his left, Energy in front, 
attended by all his weapons in human shapes, by the Vedas in the 
forms of Brahmans, by the Gayatri, the Omkara, the Vashatkara, 
by rishis, by his women, female slaves, eunuchs, and servants. 
Bharata with his family, and Satrughna, follow together with 
Brahmans bearing the sacred fire, and the whole of the people 
of the country, and even with animals, etc., etc. Rama, with all 
these attendants, comes to the banks of the Sarayii. Brahma, with 
all the gods and innumerable celestial cars, now appears, and all 
the sky is refulgent with the divine splendour. Pure and fragrant 
breezes blow, a shower of flowers falls. Rama enters the waters 
of the Sarayii; and Brahma utters a voice from the sky, saying: 
"Approach, Vishnu; Raghava, thou hast happily arrived, with thy 
godlike brothers. Enter thine own body as Vishnu or the eternal 
ether. For thou art the abode of the worlds: no one comprehends 
thee, the inconceivable and imperishable, except the large-eyed 
Maya thy primeval spouse." Hearing these words, Rama enters 
the glory of Vishnu with his body and his followers. He then asks 
Brahma to find an abode for the people who had accompanied 
him from devotion to his person, and Brahma appoints them a 
celestial residence accordingly. 1037 



[522] 



MUIR{FNS, Sanskrit Texts, Part IV., Appendix. 



ADDITIONAL NOTES. 



Queen Fortune. 

"A curious festival is celebrated in honour of this divinity (Lak- 
shmi) on the fifth lunar day of the light half of the month Magha 
(February), when she is identified with Saraswati the consort of 
Brahma, and the goddess of learning. In his treatise on festivals, 
a great modern authority, Raghunandana, mentions, on the faith 
of a work called Samvatsara-sandipa, that Lakshmi is to be 
worshipped in the forenoon of that day with flowers, perfumes, 
rice, and water; that due honour is to be paid to inkstand and 
writing-reed, and no writing to be done. Wilson, in his essay 
on the Religious Festivals of the Hindus (works, vol. ii, p. 188. 
ff.) adds that on the morning of the 2nd February, the whole 
of the pens and inkstands, and the books, if not too numerous 
and bulky, are collected, the pens or reeds cleaned, the inkstands 
scoured, and the books wrapped up in new cloth, are arranged 
upon a platform, or a sheet, and strewn over with flowers and 
blades of young barley, and that no flowers except white are 
to be offered. After performing the necessary rites, ... all the 
members of the family assemble and make their prostrations; the 
books, the pens, and ink having an entire holiday; and should any 
emergency require a written communication on the day dedicated 
to the divinity of scholarship, it is done with chalk or charcoal 
upon a black or white board." 

Chambers's Encyclopedia. Lakshmi. 



Indra. 1813 

Indra. 

"The Hindu Jove or Jupiter Tonans, chief of the secondary 
deities. He presides over swarga or paradise, and is more partic- 
ularly the god of the atmosphere and winds. He is also regent of 
the east quarter of the sky. As chief of the deities he is called 
Devapati, Devadeva, Surapati, etc.; as lord of the atmosphere 
Divaspati; as lord of the eight Vasus or demigods, Fire, etc., 
Vasava; as breaking cities into fragments, Purandara, Puranda; 
as lord of a hundred sacrifices (the performance of a hundred As- 
vamedhas elevating the sacrificer to the rank of Indra) Satakratu, 
Satamakha; as having a thousand eyes, Sahasraksha; as husband 
of Sachi, Sachipati. His wife is called Sachi, Indrani, Sakrani, 
Maghoni, Indrasakti, Pulomaja, and Paulomi. His son is Jayanta. 
His pleasure garden or elysium is Nandana; his city, Amaravati; 
his palace, Vaijayanta; his horse, Uchchaihsravas, his elephant, 
Airavata; his charioteer, Matali." 

Professor M. Williams's English-Sanskrit Dictionary. Indra. 



Vishnu. 

"The second person of the Hindu triad, and the most celebrated 
and popular of all the Indian deities. He is the personification 
of the preserving power, and became incarnate in nine different 
forms, for the preservation of mankind in various emergencies. 
Before the creation of the universe, and after its temporary an- 
nihilation, he is supposed to sleep on the waters, floating on the 
serpent Sesha, and is then identified with Narayana. Brahma, 
the creator, is fabled to spring at that time from a lotus which 
grows from his navel, whilst thus asleep. . . . His ten avatars or 
incarnations are: [523] 



1814 The Ramayana 

"1. The Matsya, or fish. In this avatar Vishnu descended in 
the form of a fish to save the pious king Satyavrata, who with 
the seven Rishis and their wives had taken refuge in the ark to 
escape the deluge which then destroyed the earth. 2, The Kurma, 
or Tortoise. In this he descended in the form of a tortoise, for 
the purpose of restoring to man some of the comforts lost during 
the flood. To this end he stationed himself at the bottom of the 
ocean, and allowed the point of the great mountain Mandara to 
be placed upon his back, which served as a hard axis, whereon 
the gods and demons, with the serpent Vasuki twisted round 
the mountain for a rope, churned the waters for the recovery of 
the amrita or nectar, and fourteen other sacred things. 3. The 
Varaha, or Boar. In this he descended in the form of a boar to 
rescue the earth from the power of a demon called 'golden-eyed,' 
Hiranyaksha. This demon had seized on the earth and carried 
it with him into the depths of the ocean. Vishnu dived into the 
abyss, and after a contest of a thousand years slew the monster. 
4. The Narasinha, or Man-lion. In this monstrous shape of a 
creature half-man, half-lion, Vishnu delivered the earth from the 
tyranny of an insolent demon called Hiranyakasipu. 5. Vamana, 
or Dwarf. This avatar happened in the second age of the Hindus 
or Tretayug, the four preceding are said to have occurred in the 
first or Satyayug; the object of this avatar was to trick Bali out 
of the dominion of the three worlds. Assuming the form of a 
wretched dwarf he appeared before the king and asked, as a 
boon, as much land as he could pace in three steps. This was 
granted; and Vishnu immediately expanding himself till he filled 
the world, deprived Bali at two steps of heaven and earth, but in 
consideration of some merit, left Patala still in his dominion. 6. 
Parasurama. 7. Ramchandra. 8. Krishna, or according to some 
Balarama. 9. Buddha. In this avatar Vishnu descended in the 
form of a sage for the purpose of making some reform in the 
religion of the Brahmins, and especially to reclaim them from 
their proneness to animal sacrifice. Many of the Hindus will not 



Siva. 1815 

allow this to have been an incarnation of their favourite god. 10. 
Kalki, or White Horse. This is yet to come. Vishnu mounted on 
a white horse, with a drawn scimitar, blazing like a comet, will, 
according to prophecy, end this present age, viz. the fourth or 
Kaliyug, by destroying the world, and then renovating creation 
by an age of purity." 

William's Dictionary. Vishnu. 



Siva. 

"A celebrated Hindu God, the Destroyer of creation, and there- 
fore the most formidable of the Hindu Triad. He also personifies 
reproduction, since the Hindu philosophy excludes the idea of 
total annihilation without subsequent regeneration. Hence he is 
sometimes confounded with Brahma, the creator or first person 
of the Triad. He is the particular God of the Tantrikas, or fol- 
lowers of the books called Tantras. His worshippers are termed 
Saivas, and although not so numerous as the Vaishnavas, exalt 
their god to the highest place in the heavens, and combine in him 
many of the attributes which properly belong to the other deities. 
According to them Siva is Time, Justice, Fire, Water, the Sun, 
the Destroyer and Creator. As presiding over generation, his 
type is the Linga, or Phallus, the origin probably of the Phallic 
emblem of Egypt and Greece. As the God of generation and 
justice, which latter character he shares with the god Yama, he is 
represented riding a white bull. His own colour, as well as that 
of the bull, is generally white, referring probably to the unsullied 
purity of Justice. His throat is dark-blue; his hair of a light [524] 
reddish colour, and thickly matted together, and gathered above 
his head like the hair of an ascetic. He is sometimes seen with two 
hands, sometimes with four, eight, or ten, and with five faces. He 
has three eyes, one being in the centre of his forehead, pointing 



1816 The Ramay ana 

up and down. These are said to denote his view of the three 
divisions of time, past, present, and future. He holds a trident 
in his hand to denote, as some say, his relationship to water, 
or according to others, to show that the three great attributes of 
Creator, Destroyer, and Regenerator are combined in him. His 
loins are enveloped in a tiger's skin. In his character of Time, 
he not only presides over its extinction, but also its astronomical 
regulation. A crescent or half-moon on his forehead indicates the 
measure of time by the phases of the moon; a serpent forms one 
of his necklaces to denote the measure of time by years, and a 
second necklace of human skulls marks the lapse and revolution 
of ages, and the extinction and succession of the generations 
of mankind. He is often represented as entirely covered with 
serpents, which are the emblems of immortality. They are bound 
in his hair, round his neck, wrists, waist, arms and legs; they 
serve as rings for his fingers, and earrings for his ears, and are 
his constant companions. Siva has more than a thousand names 
which are detailed at length in the sixty-ninth chapter of the Siva 
Purana." — Williams's Dictionary, Siva. 



Apsarases. 

"Originally these deities seem to have been personifications of 
the vapours which are attracted by the sun, and form into mist 
or clouds: their character may be thus interpreted in the few 
hymns of the Rigveda where mention is made of them. At 
a subsequent period when the Gandharva of the Rigveda who 
personifies there especially the Fire of the Sun, expanded into the 
Fire of Lightning, the rays of the moon and other attributes of the 
elementary life of heaven as well as into pious acts referring to 
it, the Apsarasas become divinities which represent phenomena 
or objects both of a physical and ethical kind closely associated 



Vishnu's Incarnation As Rama. 1817 

with that life; thus in the Yajurveda Sunbeams are called the 
Apsarasas associated with the Gandharva who is the Sun; Plants 
are termed the Apsarasas connected with the Gandharva Fire: 
Constellations are the Apsarasas of the Gandharva Moon: Waters 
the Apsarasas of the Gandharva Wind, etc. etc.... In the last 
Mythological epoch when the Gandharvas have saved from their 
elementary nature merely so much as to be musicians in the 
paradise of Indra, the Apsarasas appear among other subordinate 
deities which share in the merry life of Indra's heaven, as the 
wives of the Gandharvas, but more especially as wives of a 
licentious sort, and they are promised therefore, too, as a reward 
to heroes fallen in battle when they are received in the paradise of 
Indra; and while, in the Rigveda, they assist Soma to pour down 
his floods, they descend in the epic literature on earth merely 
to shake the virtue of penitent Sages and to deprive them of the 
power they would otherwise have acquired through unbroken 
austerities." — Goldstucker's Sanskrit Dictionary. 



Vishnu's Incarnation As Rama. 

"Here is described one of the avatars, descents or manifestations 
of Vishnu in a visible form. The word avatar signifies literally 
descent. The avatar which is here spoken of, that in which, 
according to Indian traditions, Vishnu descended and appeared [525] 
upon earth in the corporeal form of Rama, the hero of the 
Ramayana, is the seventh in the series of Indian avatars. Much 
has been said before now of these avatars, and through deficient 
knowledge of the ideas and doctrines of India, they have been 
compared to the sublime dogma of the Christian Incarnation. 
This is one of the grossest errors that ignorance of the ideas 
and beliefs of a people has produced. Between the avatars of 
India and the Christian Incarnation there is such an immensity 



1818 The Ramayana 

of difference that it is impossible to find any reasonable analogy 
that can approximate them. The idea of the avatars is intimately 
united with that of the Trimurti; the bond of connection be- 
tween these two ideas is an essential notion common to both, 
the notion of Vishnu. What is the Trimurti? I have already said 
that it is composed of three Gods, Brahma (masculine), Vishnu 
the God of avatars, and Siva. These three Gods, who when 
reduced to their primitive and most simple expression are but 
three cosmogonical personifications, three powers or forces of 
nature, these Gods, I say, are here found, according to Indian 
doctrines, entirely external to the true God of India, or Brahma 
in the neuter gender. Brahma is alone, unchangeable in the midst 
of creation: all emanates from him, he comprehends all, but he 
remains extraneous to all: he is Being and the negation of beings. 
Brahma is never worshipped; the indeterminate Being is never 
invoked; he is inaccessible to the prayers as the actions of man; 
humanity, as well as nature, is extraneous to him. External to 
Brahma rises the Trimurti, that is to say, Brahma (masculine) 
the power which creates, Vishnu the power which preserves, 
and Siva the power which destroys: theogony here commences 
at the same time with cosmogony. The three divinities of the 
Trimurti govern the phenomena of the universe and influence 
all nature. The real God of India is by himself without power; 
real efficacious power is attributed only to three divinities who 
exist externally to him. Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva, possessed 
of qualities in part contradictory and attributes that are mutually 
exclusive, have no other accord or harmony than that which re- 
sults from the power of things itself, and which is found external 
to their own thoughts. Such is the Indian Trimurti. What an 
immense difference between this Triad and the wonderful Trinity 
of Christianity! Here there is only one God, who created all, 
provides for all, governs all. He exists in three Persons equal 
to one another, and intimately united in one only infinite and 
eternal substance. The Father represents the eternal thought and 



Vishnu's Incarnation As Rama. 1819 

the power which created, the Son infinite love, the Holy Spirit 
universal sanctification. This one and triune God completes by 
omnipotent power the great work of creation which, when it has 
come forth from His hands, proceeds in obedience to the laws 
which He has given it, governed with certain order by His infinite 
providence. 

"The immense difference between the Trimurti of India and the 
Christian Trinity is found again between the avatars of Vishnu 
and the Incarnation of Christ. The avatar was effected altogether 
externally to the Being who is in India regarded as the true 
God. The manifestation of one essentially cosmogonical divinity 
wrought for the most part only material and cosmogonical prodi- 
gies. At one time it takes the form of the gigantic tortoise which 
sustains Mount Mandar from sinking in the ocean; at another of 
the fish which raises the lost Veda from the bottom of the sea, 
and saves mankind from the waters. When these avatars are not 
cosmogonical they consist in some protection accorded to men [526] 
or Gods, a protection which is neither universal nor permanent. 
The very manner in which the avatar is effected corresponds 
to its material nature, for instance the mysterious vase and the 
magic liquor by means of which the avatar here spoken of takes 
place. What are the forms which Vishnu takes in his descents? 
They are the simple forms of life; he becomes a tortoise, a boar, 
a fish, but he is not obliged to take the form of intelligence 
and liberty, that is to say, the form of man. In the avatar of 
Vishnu is discovered the inpress of pantheistic ideas which have 
always more or less prevailed in India. Does the avatar produce 
a permanent and definitive result in the world? By no means. It 
is renewed at every catastrophe either of nature or man, and its 
effects are only transitory.... To sum up then, the Indian avatar 
is effected externally to the true God of India, to Brahma; it has 
only a cosmogonical or historical mission which is neither lasting 
nor decisive; it is accomplished by means of strange prodigies 
and magic transformations; it may assume promiscuously all the 



1 820 The Ramayana 

forms of life; it may be repeated indefinitely. Now let the whole 
of this Indian idea taken from primitive tradition be compared 
with the Incarnation of Christ and it will be seen that there is 
between the two an irreconcilable difference. According to the 
doctrines of Christianity the Everlasting Word, Infinite Love, the 
Son of God, and equal to Him, assumed a human body, and being 
born as a man accomplished by his divine act the great miracle 
of the spiritual redemption of man. His coming had for its sole 
object to bring erring and lost humanity back to Him; this work 
being accomplished, and the divine union of men with God being 
re-established, redemption is complete and remains eternal. 

"The superficial study of India produced in the last century 
many erroneous ideas, many imaginary and false parallels be- 
tween Christianity and the Brahmanical religion. A profounder 
knowledge of Indian civilization and religion, and philological 
studies enlarged and guided by more certain principles have 
dissipated one by one all those errors. The attributes of the Chris- 
tian God, which by one of those intellectual errors, which Vico 
attributes to the vanity of the learned, had been transferred to 
Vishnu, have by a better inspired philosophy been reclaimed for 
Christianity, and the result of the two religions, one immovable 
and powerless, the other diffusing itself with all its inherent force 
and energy, has shown further that there is a difference, a real 
opposition, between the two principles." — Gorresio. 



Kusa and Lava. 

As the story of the banishment of Sita and the subsequent birth 
in Valmfki's hermitage of Kusa and Lava the rhapsodists of the 
Ramayan, is intimately connected with the account in the intro- 
ductory cantos of Valmfki's composition of the poem, I shall, I 
trust, be pardoned for extracting it from my rough translation of 



Kusa and Lava. 1821 

Kalidasa's Raghuvansa, parts only of which have been offered to 
the public. 

"Then, day by day, the husband's hope grew high, 

Gazing with love on SM's melting eye: 

With anxious care he saw her pallid cheek, 

And fondly bade her all her wishes speak. 

"Once more I fain would see," the lady cried, 

"The sacred groves that rise on Ganga's side, [527] 

Where holy grass is ever fresh and green, 

And cattle feeding on the rice are seen: 

There would I rest awhile, where once I strayed 

Linked in sweet friendship to each hermit maid." 

And Rama smiled upon his wife, and sware, 

With many a tender oath, to grant her prayer. 

It chanced, one evening, from a lofty seat 

He viewed Ayodhya stretched before his feet: 

He looked with pride upon the royal road 

Lined with gay shops their glittering stores that showed, 

He looked on Sarju's silver waves, that bore 

The light barks flying with the sail and oar; 

He saw the gardens near the town that lay, 

Filled with glad citizens and boys at play. 

Then swelled the monarch's bosom with delight, 

And his heart triumphed at the happy sight. 

He turned to Bhadra, standing by his side, — 

Upon whose secret news the king relied. — 

And bade him say what people said and thought 

Of all the exploits that his arm had wrought. 

The spy was silent, but, when questioned still, 

Thus spake, obedient to his master's will: 

"For all thy deeds in peace and battle done 

The people praise thee, King, except for one: 

This only act of all thy life they blame, — 

Thy welcome home of her, thy ravished dame." 



1 822 The Ramayana 

Like iron yielding to the iron's blow, 
Sank Rama, smitten by those words of woe. 
His breast, where love and fear for empire vied, 
Swayed, like a rapid swing, from side to side. 
Shall he this rumour scorn, which blots his life, 
Or banish her, his dear and spotless wife? 
But rigid Duty left no choice between 
His perilled honour and his darling queen. 
Called to his side, his brothers wept to trace 
The marks of anguish in his altered face. 
No longer bright and glorious as of old, 
He thus addressed them when the tale was told: 
"Alas! my brothers, that my life should blot 
The fame of those the Sun himself begot: 
As from the labouring cloud the driven rain 
Leaves on the mirror's polished face a stain. 
E'en as an elephant who loathes the stake 
And the strong chain he has no power to break, 
I cannot brook this cry on every side, 
That spreads like oil upon the moving tide. 
I leave the daughter of Videha's King, 
[528] And the fair blossom soon from her to spring, 

As erst, obedient to my sire's command, 
I left the empire of the sea-girt land. 
Good is my queen, and spotless; but the blame 
Is hard to bear, the mockery and the shame. 
Men blame the pure Moon for the darkened ray, 
When the black shadow takes the light away. 
And, O my brothers, if ye wish to see 
Rama live long from this reproach set free, 
Let not your pity labour to control 
The firm sad purpose of his changeless soul." 



Kusa and Lava. 1823 

Thus Rama spake. The sorrowing brothers heard 
His stern resolve, without an answering word; 
For none among them dared his voice to raise, 
That will to question: — and they could not praise. 
"Beloved brother," thus the monarch cried 
To his dear Lakshman, whom he called aside. — 
Lakshman, who knew no will save his alone 
Whose hero deeds through all the world were known: — 
"My queen has told me that she longs to rove 
Beneath the shade of Saint Valmfki's grove: 
Now mount thy car, away my lady bear; 
Tell all, and leave her in the forest there." 



The car was brought, the gentle lady smiled, 
As the glad news her trusting heart beguiled. 
She mounted up: Sumantra held the reins; 
And forth the coursers bounded o'er the plains. 
She saw green fields in all their beauty dressed, 
And thanked her husband in her loving breast. 
Alas! deluded queen! she little knew 
How changed was he whom she believed so true; 
How one she worshipped like the Heavenly Tree 
Could, in a moment's time, so deadly be. 
Her right eye throbbed, — ill-omened sign, to tell 
The endless loss of him she loved so well, 
And to the lady's saddening heart revealed 
The woe that Lakshman, in his love, concealed. 
Pale grew the bloom of her sweet face, — as fade 
The lotus blossoms, — by that sign dismayed. 
"Oh, may this omen," — was her silent prayer, — 
"No grief to Rama or his brothers bear!" 



1 824 The Ramayana 

When Lakshman, faithful to his brother, stood 
Prepared to leave her in the distant wood, 
The holy Ganga, flowing by the way, 
Raised all her hands of waves to bid him stay. 
At length with sobs and burning tears that rolled 
Down his sad face, the king's command he told; 
[529] As when a monstrous cloud, in evil hour, 

Rains from its labouring womb a stony shower. 
She heard, she swooned, she fell upon the earth, 
Fell on that bosom whence she sprang to birth. 
As, when the tempest in its fury flies, 
Low in the dust the prostrate creeper lies, 
So, struck with terror sank she on the ground, 
And all her gems, like flowers, lay scattered round. 
But Earth, her mother, closed her stony breast, 
And, filled with doubt, denied her daughter rest. 
She would not think the Chief of Raghu's race 
Would thus his own dear guiltless wife disgrace. 
Stunned and unconscious, long the lady lay, 
And felt no grief, her senses all astray. 
But gentle Lakshman, with a brother's care, 
Brought back her sense, and with her sense, despair. 
But not her wrongs, her shame, her grief, could wring 
One angry word against her lord the King: 
Upon herself alone the blame she laid, 
For tears and sighs that would not yet be stayed. 
To soothe her anguish Lakshman gently strove; 
He showed the path to Saint Valmfki's grove; 
And craved her pardon for the share of ill 
He wrought, obedient to his brother's will. 
"O, long and happy, dearest brother, live! 
I have to praise," she cried, "and not forgive: 
To do his will should be thy noblest praise; 
As Vishnu ever Indra's will obeys. 



Kusa and Lava. 1825 

Return, dear brother: on each royal dame 

Bestow a blessing in poor Sita's name, 

And bid them, in their love, kind pity take 

Upon her offspring, for the father's sake. 

And speak my message in the monarch's ear, 

The last last words of mine that he shall hear: 

"Say, was it worthy of thy noble race 

Thy guiltless queen thus lightly to disgrace? 

For idle tales to spurn thy faithful bride, 

Whose constant truth the searching fire had tried? 

Or may I hope thy soul refused consent, 

And but thy voice decreed my banishment? 

Hope that no care could turn, no love could stay 

The lightning stroke that falls on me to-day? 

That sins committed in the life that's fled 

Have brought this evil on my guilty head? 

Think not I value now my widowed life, 

Worthless to her who once was Rama's wife. 

I only live because I hope to see 

The dear dear babe that will resemble thee. 

And then my task of penance shall be done, [530] 

With eyes uplifted to the scorching sun; 

So shall the life that is to come restore 

Mine own dear husband, to be lost no more." 

And Lakshman swore her every word to tell, 

Then turned to go, and bade the queen farewell. 

Alone with all her woes, her piteous cries 

Rose like a butchered lamb's that struggling dies. 

The reverend sage who from his dwelling came 

For sacred grass and wood to feed the flame, 

Heard her loud shrieks that rent the echoing wood, 

And, quickly following, by the mourner stood. 

Before the sage the lady bent her low, 

Dried her poor eyes, and strove to calm her woe. 



1 826 The Ramayana 

With blessings on her hopes the blameless man 
In silver tones his soothing speech began: 
"First of all faithful wives, O Queen, art thou; 
And can I fail to mourn thy sorrows now? 
Rest in this holy grove, nor harbour fear 
Where dwell in safety e'en the timid deer. 
Here shall thine offspring safely see the light, 
And be partaker of each holy rite. 
Here, near the hermits' dwellings, shall thou lave 
Thy limbs in Tonse's sin-destroying wave, 
And on her isles, by prayer and worship, gain 
Sweet peace of mind, and rest from care and pain. 
Each hermit maiden with her sweet soft voice, 
Shall soothe thy woe, and bid thy heart rejoice: 
With fruit and early flowers thy lap shall fill, 
And offer grain that springs for us at will. 
And here, with labour light, thy task shall be 
To water carefully each tender tree, 
And learn how sweet a nursing mother's joy 
Ere on thy bosom rest thy darling boy. ..." 

That very night the banished Sita bare 
Two royal children, most divinely fair. . . . 

The saint Valmfki, with a friend's delight, 
Graced Sita's offspring with each holy rite. 
Kusa and Lava — such the names they bore — 
Learnt, e'en in childhood, all the Vedas' lore; 
And then the bard, their minstrel souls to train, 
Taught them to sing his own immortal strain. 
And Rama's deeds her boys so sweetly sang, 
That Sita's breast forgot her bitterest pang.. . . 



Parasurama, Page 87. 1827 



Then Sfta's children, by the saint's command, 

Sang the Ramayan, wandering through the land. 

How could the glorious poem fail to gain 

Each heart, each ear that listened to the strain! 

So sweet each minstrel's voice who sang the praise 

Of Rama deathless in Valmfki's lays. 

Rama himself amid the wondering throng 

Marked their fair forms, and loved the noble song, 

While, still and weeping, round the nobles stood, 

As, on a windless morn, a dewy wood. 

On the two minstrels all the people gazed, 

Praised their fair looks and marvelled as they praised; 

For every eye amid the throng could trace 

Rama's own image in each youthful face. 

Then spoke the king himself and bade them say 

Who was their teacher, whose the wondrous lay. 

Soon as Valmiki, mighty saint, he saw, 

He bowed his head in reverential awe. 

"These are thy children" cried the saint, "recall 

Thine own dear Sita, pure and true through all." 

"O holy father," thus the king replied, 

"The faithful lady by the fire was tried; 

But the foul demon's too successful arts 

Raised light suspicions in my people's hearts. 

Grant that their breasts may doubt her faith no more, 

And thus my Sita and her sons restore." 

Raghuvansa Cantos XIV, XV. 



Parasurama, Page 87. 



1 828 The Ramayana 

"He cleared the earth thrice seven times of the Kshatriya caste, 
and filled with their blood the five large lakes of Samanta, from 
which he offered libations to the race of Bhrigu. Offering a 
solemn sacrifice to the King of the Gods Parasurama presented 
the earth to the ministering priests. Having given the earth to 
Kasyapa, the hero of immeasurable prowess retired to the Mahen- 
dra mountain, where he still resides; and in this manner was there 
enmity between him and the race of the Kshatriyas, and thus was 
the whole earth conquered by Parasurama." The destruction of 
the Kshatriyas by Parasurama had been provoked by the cruelty 
of the Kshatriyas. Chips from a German Workshop, Vol. II. p. 
334. 

The scene in which he appears is probably interpolated for 
the sake of making him declare Rama to be Vishnu. "Herr von 
Schlegel has often remarked to me," says Lassen, "that with- 
out injuring the connexion of the story all the chapters [of the 
Ramayan] might be omitted in which Rama is regarded as an 
incarnation of Vishnu. In fact, where the incarnation of Vishnu 
as the four sons of Dasaratha is described, the great sacrifice is 
already ended, and all the priests remunerated at the termination, 
when the new sacrifice begins at which the Gods appear, then 
[532] withdraw, and then first propose the incarnation to Vishnu. If it 

had been an original circumstance of the story, the Gods would 
certainly have deliberated on the matter earlier, and the celebra- 
tion of the sacrifice would have continued without interruption." 
Lassen, Indische Alterthumskunde, Vol. I. p. 489. 



Yama, Page 68. 



Son of Vivasvat=Jima son of Vivanghvat, the Jamshid of the 
later Persians. 



Fate, Page 68. 1829 

Fate, Page 68. 

"The idea of fate was different in India from that which prevailed 
in Greece. In Greece fate was a mysterious, inexorable power 
which governed men and human events, and from which it was 
impossible to escape. In India Fate was rather an inevitable 
consequence of actions done in births antecedent to one's present 
state of existence, and was therefore connected with the doctrine 
of metempsychosis. A misfortune was for the most part a punish- 
ment, an expiation of ancient faults not yet entirely cancelled." 
Gorresio. 



Visvamitra, Page 76. 

"Though of royal extraction, Visvamitra conquered for himself 
and his family the privileges of a Brahman. He became a 
Brahman, and thus broke through all the rules of caste. The 
Brahmans cannot deny the fact, because it forms one of the 
principal subjects of their legendary poems. But they have 
spared no pains to represent the exertions of Visvamitra, in his 
struggle for Brahmanhood, as so superhuman that no one would 
easily be tempted to follow his example. No mention is made 
of these monstrous penances in the Veda, where the struggle 
between Visvamitra, the leader of the Kusikas or Bharatas, and 
the Brahman Vasishtha, the leader of the white-robed Tritsus, is 
represented as the struggle of two rivals for the place of Purohita 
or chief priest and minister at the court of King Sudas, the son of 
Pijavana." Chips from a German Workshop, Vol. II. p. 336. 



Household Gods, Page 102. 



[533] 



1830 The Ramayana 

"No house is supposed to be without its tutelary divinity, but the 
notion attached to this character is now very far from precise. 
The deity who is the object of hereditary and family worship, 
the Kuladevatd, is always one of the leading personages of the 
Hindu mythology, as Siva, Vishnu or Durga, but the Grihadevatd 
rarely bears any distinct appellation. In Bengal, the domestic 
god is sometimes the Sdlagrdm stone, sometimes the tulasi plant, 
sometimes a basket with a little rice in it, and sometimes a water- 
jar — to either of which a brief adoration is daily addressed, most 
usually by the females of the family. Occasionally small images 
of Lakshmi or Chandi fulfil the office, or should a snake appear, 
he is venerated as the guardian of the dwelling. In general, 
however, in former times, the household deities were regarded 
as the unseen spirits of ill, the ghosts and goblins who hovered 
about every spot, and claimed some particular sites as their own. 
Offerings were made to them in the open air, by scattering a little 
rice with a short formula at the close of all ceremonies to keep 
them in good humour. 

"The household gods correspond better with the genii locorum 
than with the lares or penates of autiquity." 

H. H. Wilson. 



Page 107. 



Saivya, a king whom earth obeyed, 
Once to a hawk a promise made. 



Page 107. 1831 

The following is a free version of this very ancient story which 
occurs more than once in the Mahdbhdrat: 
The Suppliant Dove. 

Chased by a hawk there came a dove 

With worn and weary wing, 
And took her stand upon the hand 

Of Kasfs mighty king. 
The monarch smoothed her ruffled plumes 

And laid her on his breast, 
And cried, "No fear shall vex thee here, 

Rest, pretty egg-born, rest! 
Fair Kasfs realm is rich and wide, 

With golden harvests gay, 
But all that's mine will I resign 

Ere I my guest betray." 
But panting for his half won spoil 

The hawk was close behind. 
And with wild cry and eager eye 

Came swooping down the wind: 
"This bird," he cried, "my destined prize, 

'Tis not for thee to shield: 
'Tis mine by right and toilsome flight 

O'er hill and dale and field. 
Hunger and thirst oppress me sore, 

And I am faint with toil: 
Thou shouldst not stay a bird of prey 

Who claims his rightful spoil. 
They say thou art a glorious king, 

And justice is thy care: 
Then justly reign in thy domain, 

Nor rob the birds of air." 
Then cried the king: "A cow or deer 

For thee shall straightway bleed, 
Or let a ram or tender lamb 



1832 The Ramayana 

Be slain, for thee to feed. 
Mine oath forbids me to betray 

My little twice-born guest: 
See how she clings with trembling wings 

To her protector's breast." 
"No flesh of lambs," the hawk replied, 

"No blood of deer for me; 
The falcon loves to feed on doves 

And such is Heaven's decree. 
[534] But if affection for the dove 

Thy pitying heart has stirred, 
Let thine own flesh my maw refresh, 

Weighed down against the bird." 
He carved the flesh from off his side, 

And threw it in the scale, 
While women's cries smote on the skies 

With loud lament and wail. 
He hacked the flesh from side and arm, 

From chest and back and thigh, 
But still above the little dove 

The monarch's scale stood high. 
He heaped the scale with piles of flesh, 

With sinews, blood and skin, 
And when alone was left him bone 

He threw himself therein. 
Then thundered voices through the air; 

The sky grew black as night; 
And fever took the earth that shook 

To see that wondrous sight. 
The blessed Gods, from every sphere, 

By Indra led, came nigh: 
While drum and flute and shell and lute 

Made music in the sky. 
They rained immortal chaplets down, 



Page 108. 1833 

Which hands celestial twine, 
And softly shed upon his head 

Pure Amrit, drink divine. 
Then God and Seraph, Bard and Nymph 

Their heavenly voices raised, 
And a glad throng with dance and song 

The glorious monarch praised. 
They set him on a golden car 

That blazed with many a gem; 
Then swiftly through the air they flew, 

And bore him home with them. 
Thus Kasi's lord, by noble deed, 

Won heaven and deathless fame: 
And when the weak protection seek 

From thee, do thou the same. 

Scenes from the Rdmdyan, &c. 



Page 108. 

The ceremonies that attended the consecration of a king (Abhik- 
shepa lit. Sprinkling over) are fully described in Goldstiicker's 
Dictionary, from which the following extract is made: "The type 
of the inauguration ceremony as practised at the Epic period 
may probably be recognized in the history of the inauguration 
of Rama, as told in the Rdmdyana, and in that of the inaugu- 
ration of Yudhishthira, as told in the Mahdbhdratha. Neither 
ceremony is described in these poems with the full detail which [535] 
is given of the vaidik rite in the Aitareya-Brdhmanam; but the 
allusion that Rama was inaugurated by Vasishtha and the other 
Brahmanas in the same manner as Indra by the Vasus . . . and 
the observation which is made in some passages that a certain 



1834 The Ramayana 

rite of the inauguration was performed 'according to the sacred 
rule' . . . admit of the conclusion that the ceremony was supposed 
to have taken place in conformity with the vaidik injunction. . . . 
As the inauguration of Rama was intended and the necessary 
preparations for it were made when his father Dasaratha was still 
alive, but as the ceremony itself, through the intrigues of his 
step-mother Kaikeyi, did not take place then, but fourteen years 
later, after the death of Dasaratha, an account of the preparatory 
ceremonies is given in the Ayodhydkdnda (Book II) as well as in 
the Yuddha-Kdnda (Book VI.) of the Ramayana, but an account 
of the complete ceremony in the latter book alone. According 
to the Ayodhydkdnda, on the day preceding the intended inaugu- 
ration Rama and his wife Sitd held a fast, and in the night they 
performed this preliminary rite: Rama having made his ablu- 
tions, approached the idol of Ndrdyana, took a cup of clarified 
butter, as the religious law prescribes, made a libation of it into 
the kindled fire, and drank the remainder while wishing what 
was agreeable to his heart. Then, with his mind fixed on the 
divinity he lay, silent and composed, together with Sitd, on a 
bed of Kusa-grass, which was spread before the altar of Vishnu, 
until the last watch of the night, when he awoke and ordered the 
palace to be prepared for the solemnity. At day-break reminded 
of the time by the voices of the bards, he performed the usual 
morning devotion and praised the divinity. In the meantime the 
town Ayodhya had assumed a festive appearance and the inau- 
guration implements had been arranged ... golden water-jars, 
an ornamented throne-seat, a chariot covered with a splendid 
tiger-skin, water taken from the confluence of the Ganges and 
Jumna, as well as from other sacred rivers, tanks, wells, lakes, 
and from all oceans, honey, curd, clarified butter, fried grain, 
Kusa-grass, flowers, milk; besides, eight beautiful damsels, and 
a splendid furious elephant, golden and silver jars, filled with 
water, covered with Udumbara branches and various lotus flow- 
ers, besides a white jewelled chourie, a white splendid parasol, a 



Page 109. 1835 

white bull, a white horse, all manner of musical instruments and 
bards.... In the preceding chapter ... there are mentioned two 
white chouries instead of one, and all kinds of seeds, perfumes 
and jewels, a scimitar, a bow, a litter, a golden vase, and a blazing 
fire, and amongst the living implements of the pageant, instead 
of the bards, gaudy courtesans, and besides the eight damsels, 
professors of divinity, Brahmanas, cows and pure kinds of wild 
beasts and birds, the chiefs of town and country-people and the 
citizens with their train." 



Page 109. 

Then with the royal chaplains they 
Took each his place in long array. 

The twice born chiefs, with zealous heed, 
Made ready what the rite would need. 

"Now about the office of a Purohita (house priest). The gods 
do not eat the food offered by a king, who has no house-priest 
(Purohita). Thence the king even when (not) intending to bring a 
sacrifice, should appoint a Brahman to the office of house-priest." 
Haug's Autareya Brdhmanam. Vol. II. p. 528. 



Page 110. 

There by the gate the Saras screamed. 



[536] 



1836 The Ramay ana 

The Saras or Indian Crane is a magnificent bird easily domes- 
ticated and speedily constituting himself the watchman of his 
master's house and garden. Unfortunately he soon becomes a 
troublesome and even dangerous dependent, attacking strangers 
with his long bill and powerful wings, and warring especially 
upon "small infantry" with unrelenting ferocity. 



Page 120. 



My mothers or my sire the king. 

All the wives of the king his father are regarded and spoken of 
by Rama as his mothers. 



Page 125. 



Such blessings as the Gods o 'erjoyed 
Poured forth when Vritra was destroyed. 



Page 125. 1837 

"Mythology regards Vritra as a demon or Asur, the implacable 
enemy of Indra, but this is not the primitive idea contained in the 
name of Vritra. In the hymns of the Veda Vritra appears to be the 
thick dark cloud which Indra the God of the firmament attacks 
and disperses with his thunderbolt." Gorresio. 

"In that class of Rig-veda hymns which there is reason to look 
upon as the oldest portion of Vedic poetry, the character of Indra 
is that of a mighty ruler of the firmament, and his principal feat 
is that of conquering the demon Vritra, a symbolical personifi- 
cation of the cloud which obstructs the clearness of the sky, and 
withholds the fructifying rain from the earth. In his battles with 
Vritra he is therefore described as 'opening the receptacles of the 
waters,' as 'cleaving the cloud' with his 'far-whirling thunder- 
bolt,' as 'casting the waters down to earth,' and 'restoring the 
sun to the sky.' He is in consequence 'the upholder of heaven, 
earth, and firmament,' and the god 'who has engendered the sun 
and the dawn.' " Chambers's Cyclopedia, Indra. 

"Throughout these hymns two images stand out before us 
with overpowering distinctness. On one side is the bright god of 
the heaven, as beneficent as he is irresistible: on the other the 
demon of night and of darkness, as false and treachorous as he 
is malignant. . . . The latter (as his name Vritra, from var, to veil, 
indicates) is pre-eminently the thief who hides away the rain- 
clouds.. . . But the myth is yet in too early a state to allow of the 
definite designations which are brought before us in the conflicts 
of Zeus with Typhon and his monstrous progeny, of Apollon 
with the Python, of Bellerophon with Chimaira of Oidipous with 
the Sphinx, of Hercules with Cacus, of Sigurd with the dragon 
Fafnir; and thus not only is Vritra known by many names, but he 
is opposed sometimes by Indra, sometimes by Agni the fire-god, 
sometimes by Trita, Brihaspati, or other deities; or rather these 
are all names of one and the same god." Cox's Mythology of the 
Aryan Nations. Vol. II. p. 326. 



1838 The Ramay ana 



[537] 



Page 125. 

And that prized herb whose sovereign power 
Preserves from dark misfortune's hour. 
"And yet more medicinal is it than that Moly, 
That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave; 
He called it Harmony, and gave it me, 
And bade me keep it as of sovereign use 
'Gainst all enchantment, mildew, blast, or damp, 
Or ghastly furies' apparition." Comus. 

The Moly of Homer, which Dierbach considers to have been the 
Mandrake, is probably a corruption of the Sanskrit Mula a root. 



Page 136. 

True is the ancient saw: the Neem 
Can ne'er distil a honeyed stream. 

The Neem tree, especially in the Rains, emits a strong unpleasant 
smell like that of onions. Its leaves however make an excellent 
cooling poultice, and the Extract of Neem is an admirable remedy 
for cutaneous disorders. 



Page 152. 

Who ofNishdda lineage came. 



Page 152. 1839 

The following account of the origin of the Nishadas is taken 
from Wilson's Vishnu Purdna, Book I. Chap. 15. "Afterwards 
the Munis beheld a great dust arise, and they said to the people 
who were nigh: 'What is this?' And the people answered and 
said: 'Now that the kingdom is without a king, the dishonest 
men have begun to seize the property of their neighbours. The 
great dust that you behold, excellent Munis, is raised by troops of 
clustering robbers, hastening to fall upon their prey. ' The sages, 
hearing this, consulted, and together rubbed the thigh of the 
king (Vena), who had left no offspring, to produce a son. From 
the thigh, thus rubbed, came forth a being of the complexion 
of a charred stake, with flattened features like a negro, and of 
dwarfish stature. 'What am I to do,' cried he eagerly to the 
Munis. 'Sit down (nishida),' said they. And thence his name was 
Nishada. His descendants, the inhabitants of the Vindhya moun- 
tain, great Muni, are still called Nishadas and are characterized 
by the exterior tokens of depravity." Professor Wilson adds, in 
his note on the passage: "The Matsya says that there were born 
outcast or barbarous races, Mlechchhas, as black as collyrium. 
The Bhagavata describes an individual of dwarfish stature, with 
short arms and legs, of a complexion as black as a crow, with 
projecting chin, broad flat nose, red eyes, and tawny hair, whose 
descendants were mountaineers and foresters. The Padma (Bhu- 
mi Khanda) has a similar deccription; adding to the dwarfish 
stature and black complexion, a wide mouth, large ears, and a 
protuberant belly. It also particularizes his posterity as Nishadas, 
Kiratas, Bhillas, and other barbarians and Mlechchhas, living in 
woods and on mountains. These passages intend, and do not 
much exaggerate, the uncouth appearance of the Gonds, Koles, 
Bhils, and other uncivilized tribes, scattered along the forests and 
mountains of Central India from Behar to Khandesh, and who 
are, not improbably, the predecessors of the present occupants 
of the cultivated portions of the country. They are always very 
black, ill-shapen, and dwarfish, and have countenances of a very 



1 840 The Ramayana 

[538] African character." 

Manu gives a different origin of the Nishadas as the offspring 
of a Brahman father and a Siidra mother. See Muir's Sanskrit 
Texts, Vol. I. p. 481. 



Page 157. 



Beneath a fig-tree's mighty shade, 
With countless pendent shoots displayed. 
"So counselled he, and both together went 
Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose 
The fig-tree: not that kind for fruit renowned, 
But such as at this day, to Indians known, 
In Malabar or Deccan spreads her arms 
Branching so broad and long, that in the ground 
The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
About the mother tree, a pillared shade 
High overarched, and echoing walks between." 

Paradise Lost, Book IX. 



Page 161. 



Now, Lakshman, as our cot is made, 
Must sacrifice be duly paid. 



Page 169. 1841 

The rites performed in India on the completion of a house are 
represented in modern Europe by the familiar "house-warming." 



Page 169. 



/ longed with all my lawless will 
Some elephant by night to kill. 

One of the regal or military caste was forbidden to kill an elephant 
except in battle. 

Thy hand has made no Brahman bleed. 

"The punishment which the Code of Manu awards to the 
slayer of a Brahman was to be branded in the forehead with the 
mark of a headless corpse, and entirely banished from society; 
this being apparently commutable for a fine. The poem is there- 
fore in accordance with the Code regarding the peculiar guilt 
of killing Brahmans; but in allowing a hermit who was not a 
Divija (twice-born) to go to heaven, the poem is far in advance 
of the Code. The youth in the poem is allowed to read the Veda, 
and to accumulate merit by his own as well as his father's pious 
acts; whereas the exclusive Code reserves all such privileges 
to Divijas invested with the sacred cord." Mrs. Speir's Life in 
Ancient India, p. 107. 



Page 174. The Praise Of Kings 

"Compare this magnificent eulogium of kings and kingly gov- 
ernment with what Samuel says of the king and his authority: 



1 842 The Ramayana 

And Samuel told all the words of the Lord unto the people that 
asked of him a king. 

And he said, This will be the manner of the king that shall 
reign over you: He will take your sons, and appoint them for 
himself, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen: and some shall 
[539] run before his chariots. 

And he will appoint him captains over thousands, and captains 
over fifties, and will set them to work his ground, and to reap his 
harvest, and to make his instrument of war, and instruments of 
his chariots. 

And he will take your daughters to be confectionaries, and to 
be cooks, and to be bakers. 

And he will take your fields, and your vineyards and your 
oliveyards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants. 

And he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, 
and give to his officers, and to his servants. 

And he will take your men-servants, and your maid-servants, 
and your goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to 
his work. 

He will take the tenth of your sheep: and ye shall be his 
servants. 

And ye shall cry out in that day because of your king which 
ye shall have chosen you. I. Samuel, VIII. 

In India kingly government was ancient and consecrated by 
tradition: whence to change it seemed disorderly and revolution- 
ary: in Judsea theocracy was ancient and consecrated by tradition, 
and therefore the innovation which would substitute a king was 
represented as full of dangers." Gorresio. 



Page 176. Salmali. 



Page 178. Bharat's Return. 1843 

According to the Bengal recension Salmali appears to have been 
another name of the Vipasa. Salmali may be an epithet signifying 
rich in Bombax heptaphyllon. The commentator makes another 
river out of the word. 



Page 178. Bharat's Return. 

"Two routes from Ayodhya to Rajagriha or Girivraja are de- 
scribed. That taken by the envoys appears to have been the 
shorter one, and we are not told why Bharat returned by a differ- 
ent road. The capital of the Kekayas lay to the west of the Vipasa. 
Between it and the Satadru stretched the country of the Bahfkas. 
Upon the remaining portion of the road the two recensions differ. 
According to that of Bengal there follow towards the east the 
river Indamati, then the town Ajakala belonging to the Bodhi, 
then Bhulinga, then the river Saradanda. According to the other 
instead of the first river comes the Ikshumati . . . instead of the 
first town Abhikala, instead of the second Kulinga, then the 
second river. According to the direction of the route both the 
above-mentioned rivers must be tributaries of the Satadru. . . . The 
road then crossed the Yamuna (Jumna), led beyond that river 
through the country of the Panchalas, and reached the Ganges 
at Hastinapura, where the ferry was. Thence it led over the 
Ramaganga and its eastern tributaries, then over the Gomati, and 
then in a southern direction along the Malini, beyond which it 
reached Ayodhya. In Bharat's journey the following rivers are 
passed from west to east: Kutikoshtikd, Uttdnikd, Kutikd, Kapi- 
vati, Gomati according to Schlegel, and Hiranyavati, Uttdrikd, 
Kutild, Kapivati, Gomati according to Gorresio. As these rivers 
are to be looked for on the east of the Ganges, the first must be 
the modern Koh, a small affluent of the Ramaganga, over which 
the highway cannot have gone as it bends too far to the north. 



1 844 The Ramayana 

The Uttanika or Uttarika must be the Ramaganga, the Kutika or 
Kutila its eastern tributary, Kosila, the Kapivati the next tributary 
[540] which on the maps has different names, Gurra or above Kailas, 

lower down Bhaigu. The Gomati (Goomtee) retains its old name. 
The Malini, mentioned only in the envoys' journey, must have 
been the western tributary of the Sarayii now called Chuka." 
Lassen's Indische Alterthumskunde , Vol. II. P. 524. 



Page 183. 



What worlds await thee, Queen, for this ? 

"Indian belief divided the universe into several worlds (lokdh). 
The three principal worlds were heaven, earth, and hell. But 
according to another division there were seven: Bhurloka or the 
earth, Bhuvarloka or the space between the earth and the sun, the 
seat of the Munis, Siddhas, &c, Svarloka or the heaven of Indra 
between the sun and the polar star, and the seventh Brahmaloka 
or the world of Brahma. Spirits which reached the last were 
exempt from being born again." Gorresio. 



Page 203. 



When from a million herbs a blaze 
Of their own luminous glory plays. 



Page 219. 1845 

This mention of lambent flames emitted by herbs at night may 
be compared with Lucan's description of a similar phenomenon 
in the Druidical forest near Marseilles, (Pharsalia, III. 420.). 

Non ardentis fulgere incendia silvae. 

Seneca, speaking of Argolis, (Thyestes, Act IV), says: — 
Tota solet 



Micare flamma silva, et excelsae trabes 
Ardent sine igni. 

Thus also the bush at Horeb (Exod. II.) flamed, but was not 
consumed. 

The Indian explanation of the phenomenon is, that the sun 
before he sets deposits his rays for the night with the deciduous 
plants. See Journal ofR. As. S. Bengal, Vol. II. p. 339. 



Page 219. 



We rank the Buddhist with the thief. 



1 846 The Ramayana 

Schlegel says in his Preface: "Lubrico vestigio insistit V. CI. 
Heerenius, prof. Gottingensis , in libro suo de commerciis 
veterum populorum (Opp. Vol. Hist. XII, pag. 129,) dum putat, 
ex mentione sectatorum Buddhae secundo libro Rameidos iniecta 
de tempore, quo totum carmen sit conditum, quicquam legitime 
concludi posse.... Sunt versus spurii, reiecti a Bengalis in sola 
commentatorum recensione leguntur. Buddhas quidem mille fere 
annis ante Christum natun vixit: sed post multa demumsecula, 
odiointernecivo inter Brachmanos et Buddhae sectatores orto, 
his denique ex India pulsis, fingi potuit iniquissima criminatio, 
eos animi immortalitatem poenasque et praemia in vita futura 
negare. Praeterea metrum, quo concinnati sunt hi versus, de quo 
metro mox disseram, recentiorem aetatem arguit. . . . Poenitet me 
nunc mei consilii, quod non statim ab initio, . . . eiecerim cuncta 
disticha diversis a sloco vulgari metris composita. Metra sunt 
duo: pariter ambo constant quatuor hemistichiis inter se aequal- 
ibus, alterum undenarum syllabarum, alterum duodenarum, hunc 
[541] in modum: 

[-)] [-] [)] [-] [-] [)] [)] [-] [)] [-] [-)] 
[)] [-] [)] [-] [-] [)] [)] [-] [)] [-] [)] [-)] 

Cuius generis versus in primo et secundo Rameidos libro 
nusquam nisi ad finem capitum apposita inveniuntur, et huic 
loco unice sunt accommodata, quasi peroratio, lyricis numeris 
assurgens, quo magis canorae cadant clausulae: sicut musi- 
ci in concentibus extremis omnium vocum instrumentorumque 
ictu fortiore aures percellere amant. Igitur disticha ilia non 
ante divisionem per capita illatam addi potuerunt: hanc autem 
grammaticis deberi argumento est ipse recensionum dissensus, 
manifesto inde ortus, quod singuli editores in ea constituenda 
suo quisque iudicio usi sunt; praeterquam quod non credibile 
est, poetam artis suae peritum narrationem continuam in membra 
tam minuta dissecuisse. Porro discolor est dictio: magniloquentia 
affectatur, sed nimis turgida ilia atque effusa, nee sententiarum 



Page 219. 1847 

pondere satis suffulta. Denique nihil fere novi affertur: ampli 
ficantur prius dicta, rarius aliquid ex capite sequente anticipatur. 
Si quis appendices hosce legendo transiliat, sentiet slocum ulti- 
mum cum primo capitis proximi apte coagmentatum, nee sine vi 
quadam inde avulsum. Eiusmodi versus exhibet utraque recensio, 
sed modo haec modo ilia plures paucioresve numero, et lectio 
interdum magnopere variat." 

"The narrative of Rama's exile in the jungle is one of the most 
obscure portions of the Ramayana, inasmuch as it is difficult to 
discover any trace of the original tradition, or any illustration of 
actual life and manners, beyond the artificial life of self-mortifi- 
cation and selfdenial said to have been led by the Brahman sages 
of olden time. At the same time, however, the story throws some 
light upon the significance of the poem, and upon the character 
in which the Brahmanical author desired to represent Rama; 
and consequently it deserves more serious consideration than the 
nature of the subject-matter would otherwise seem to imply. 

"According to the Ramayana, the hero Rama spent more than 
thirteen years of his exile in wandering amongst the different 
Brahmanical settlements, which appear to have been scattered 
over the country between the Ganges and the Godaveri; his wan- 
derings extending from the hill of Chitra-kuta in Bundelkund, to 
the modern town of Nasik on the western side of India, near the 
source of the Godaveri river, and about seventy-five miles to the 
north-west of Bombay. The appearance of these Brahmanical 
hermitages in the country far away to the south of the Raj of 
Kasala, seems to call for critical inquiry. Each hermitage is 
said to have belonged to some particular sage, who is famous in 
Brahmanical tradition. But whether the sages named were really 
contemporaries of Rama, or whether they could possibly have 
flourished at one and the same period, is open to serious question. 
It is of course impossible to fix with any degree of certainty the 
relative chronology of the several sages, who are said to have 
been visited by Rama; but still it seems tolerably clear that some 



1 848 The Ramayana 

belonged to an age far anterior to that in which the Ramayana was 
composed, and probably to an age anterior to that in which Rama 
existed as a real and living personage; whilst, at least, one sage is 
to be found who could only have existed in the age during which 
the Ramayana was produced in its present form. The main proofs 
of these inferences are as follows. An interval of many centuries 
seems to have elapsed between the composition of the Rig- Veda 
[542] and that of the Ramayana: a conclusion which has long been 

proved by the evidence of language, and is generally accepted 
by Sanskrit scholars. But three of the sages, said to have been 
contemporary with Rama, namely, Visvamitra, Atri and Agastya, 
are frequently mentioned in the hymns of the Rig-Veda; whilst 
Valmfki, the sage dwelling at Chitra-kuta, is said to have been 
himself the composer of the Ramayana. Again, the sage Atri, 
whom Rama visited immediately after his departure from Chi- 
tra-kuta, appears in the genealogical list preserved in the Maha 
Bharata, as the progenitor of the Moon, and consequently as 
the first ancestor of the Lunar race: whilst his grandson Buddha 
[Budha] is said to have married Ila, the daughter of Ikhsvaku 
who was himself the remote ancestor of the Solar race of Ay- 
odhya, from whom Rama was removed by many generations. 
These conclusions are not perhaps based upon absolute proof, 
because they are drawn from untrustworthy authorities; but still 
the chronological difficulties have been fully apprehended by 
the Pundits, and an attempt has been made to reconcile all con- 
tradictions by representing the sages to have lived thousands of 
years, and to have often re-appeared upon earth in different ages 
widely removed from each other. Modern science refuses to 
accept such explanations; and consequently it is impossible to 
escape the conclusion that if Valmfki composed the Ramayana 
in the form of Sanskrit in which it has been preserved, he could 
not have flourished in the same age as the sages who are named 
in the Rig-Veda." Wheeler's History of India, Vol. II, 229. 



Page 249. 1849 

Page 249. 

And King Himalaya 's Child. 

Uma or Parvati, was the daughter of Himalaya and Mena. She 
is the heroine of Kalidasa's Kumdra-Sambhava or Birth of the 
War-God. 



Page 250. 



Strong Kumbhakarna slumbering deep 
In chains of never-ending sleep. 

"Kumbhakarna, the gigantic brother of the titanic Ra- 
van, — named from the size of his ears which could contain 
a Kumbha or large water-jar — had such an appetite that he used 
to consume six months' provisions in a single day. Brahma, to 
relieve the alarm of the world, which had begun to entertain 
serious apprehensions of being eaten up, decreed that the giant 
should sleep six months at a time and wake for only one day 
during which he might consume his six months' allowance with- 
out trespassing unduly on the reproductive capabilities of the " 
Scenes front the Rdmdyan, p. 153, 2nd Edit. 



Page 257. 



Like Siva when his angry might 
Stayed Daksha 's sacrificial rite. 



1850 The Ramayana 

The following spirited version of this old story is from the pen 
of Mr. W. Waterfield: 

"This is a favorite subject of Hindu sculpture, especially on 
the temples of Shiva, such as the caves of Elephanta and Ellora. 
It, no doubt, is an allegory of the contest between the followers 
of Shiva and the worshippers of the Elements, who observed the 
old ritual of the Vedas; in which the name of Shiva is never 
[543] mentioned. 

Daksha for devotion 

Made a mighty feast: 
Milk and curds and butter, 

Flesh of bird and beast, 
Rice and spice and honey, 

Sweetmeats ghi and gur, 1 
Gifts for all the Brahmans, 

Food for all the poor. 
At the gates of Ganga 1039 

Daksha held his feast; 
Called the gods unto it, 

Greatest as the least. 
All the gods were gathered 

Round with one accord; 
All the gods but Uma, 

All but Uma's lord. 
Uma sat with Shiva 

On Kailasa hill: 
Round them stood the Rudras 

Watching for their will. 
Who is this that cometh 

Lilting to his lute? 
All the birds of heaven 



1039 Haridwar (Anglice Hurdwar) where the Ganges enters the plain country. 



Page 257. 1851 

Heard his music, mute. 
Round his head a garland 

Rich of hue was wreathed: 
Every sweetest odour 

From its blossoms breathed. 
'Tis the Muni Narad; 

'Mong the gods he fares, 
Ever making mischief 

By the tales he bears. 
"Hail to lovely Uma! 

Hail to Uma's lord! 
Wherefore are they absent 

For her father's board? 
Multiplied his merits 

Would be truly thrice, 
Could he gain your favour 

For his sacrifice." 
Worth of heart was Uma; 

To her lord she spake: — 
"Why dost thou, the mighty, 

Of no rite partake? 
Straight I speed to Daksha 

Such a sight to see: 
If he be my father, 

He must welcome thee." 
Wondrous was in glory 

Daksha's holy rite; 
Never had creation 

Viewed so brave a sight. 
Gods, and nymphs, find fathers, 

Sages, Brahmans, sprites, — 
Every diverge creature 

Wrought that rite of rites. 
Quickly then a quaking 



1 852 The Ramayana 

Fell on all from far; 
Uma stood among them 

On her lion car. 
"Greeting, gods and sages, 

Greeting, father mine! 
Work hath wondrous virtue, 

Where such aids combine. 
Guest-hall never gathered 

Goodlier company: 
Seemeth all are welcome. 

All the gods but me." 
Spake the Muni Daksha, 

Stern and cold his tone: — 
"Welcome thou, too, daughter, 

Since thou com'st alone. 
But thy frenzied husband 

Suits another shrine; 
He is no partaker 

Of this feast of mine. 
He who walks in darkness 

Loves no deeds of light: 
He who herds with demons 

Shuns each kindly sprite. 
Let him wander naked. — 

Wizard weapons wield, — 
Dance his frantic measure 

Round the funeral field. 
Art thou yet delighted 

With the reeking hide, 
Body smeared with ashes. 

Skulls in necklace tied? 
Thou to love this monster? 

Thou to plead his part! 
Know the moon and Ganga 



Page 257. 1853 

Share that faithless heart 
Vainly art thou vying 

With thy rivals' charms. 
Are not coils of serpents 

Softer than thine arms?" 
Words like these from Daksha 

Daksha's daughter heard: 
Then a sudden passion 

All her bosom stirred. 
Eyes with fury flashing. 

Speechless in her ire, 
Headlong did she hurl her 

'Mid the holy fire. 
Then a trembling terror 

Overcame each one, 
And their minds were troubled 

Like a darkened sun; [544] 

And a cruel Vision, 

Face of lurid flame, 
Uma's Wrath incarnate, 

From the altar came. 
Fiendlike forms by thousands 

Started from his side, 
'Gainst the sacrificers 

All their might they plied: 
Till the saints availed not 

Strength like theirs to stay, 
And the gods distracted 

Turned and fled away. 
Hushed were hymns and chanting, 

Priests were mocked and spurned; 
Food defiled and scattered; 

Altars overturned. — 
Then, to save the object 



1 854 The Ramayana 

Sought at such a price, 
Like a deer in semblance 

Sped the sacrifice. 
Soaring toward the heavens, 

Through the sky it fled? 
But the Rudras chasing 

Smote away its head. 
Prostrate on the pavement 

Daksha fell dismayed: — 
"Mightiest, thou hast conquered 

Thee we ask for aid. 
Let not our oblations 

All be rendered vain; 
Let our toilsome labour 

Full fruition gain." 
Bright the broken altars 

Shone with Shiva's form; 
"Be it so!" His blessing 

Soothed that frantic storm. 
Soon his anger ceases, 

Though it soon arise; — 
But the Deer's Head ever 

Blazes in the skies." 

Indian Ballads and other Poems. 



Page 286. Urvasi. 

"The personification of Urvasi herself is as thin as that of Eos 
or Selene. Her name is often found in the Veda as a mere name 
for the morning, and in the plural number it is used to denote 
the dawns which passing over men bring them to old age and 



Page 286. Urvasi. 1855 

death. Urvasi is the bright flush of light overspreading the heaven 
before the sun rises, and is but another form of the many mythical 
beings of Greek mythology whose names take us back to the 
same idea or the same root. As the dawn in the Vedic hymns 
is called Uruki, the far-going (Telephassa, Telephos), so is she 
also Uruasi, the wide-existing or wide-spreading; as are Europe, 
Euryanassa, Euryphassa, and many more of the sisters of Athene 
and Aphrodite. As such she is the mother of Vasishtha, the bright 
being, as Oidipous is the son of Iokaste; and although Vasishtha, 
like Oidipous, has become a mortal bard or sage, he is still the 
son of Mitra and Varuna, of night and day. Her lover Pururavas is 
the counterpart of the Hellenic Polydeukes; but the continuance 
of her union with him depends on the condition that she never 
sees him unclothed. But the Gandharvas, impatient of her long 
sojourn among mortal men resolved to bring her back to their 
bright home; and Pururavas is thus led unwitingly to disregard 
her warning. A ewe with two lambs was tied to her couch, and 
the Gandharvas stole one of them; Urvasi said, 'They take away 
my darling, as if I lived in a land where there is no hero and 
no man.' They stole the second, and she upbraided her husband 
again. Then Pururavas looked and said, 'How can that be a land 
without heroes or men where I am?' And naked he sprang up; he 
thought it was too long to put on his dress. Then the Gandharvas 
sent a flash of lighting, and Urvasi saw her husband naked as by 
daylight. Then she vanished. T come back,' she said, and went. 
'Then he bewailed his vanished love in bitter grief.' Her promise 
to return was fulfilled, but for a moment only, at the Lotos-lake, 
and Pururavas in vain beseeches her to tarry longer. 'What shall 
I do with thy speech?' is the answer of Urvasi. T am gone like [545] 
the first of the dawns. Pururavas, go home again. I am hard 
to be caught like the winds.' Her lover is in utter despair; but 
when he lies down to die, the heart of Urvasi was melted, and 
she bids him come to her on the last night of the year. On that 
night only he might be with her; but a son should be born to him. 



1856 The Ramayana 

On that day he went up to the golden seats, and there Urvasi told 
him that the Gandharvas would grant him one wish, and that he 
must make his choice. 'Choose thou for me,' he said: and she 
answered, 'Say to them, Let me be one of you.' " 

Cox's Mythology of the Aryan Nations. Vol. I. p. 397. 



Page 324. 

The sovereign of the Vdnar race. 

"Vanar is one of the most frequently occurring names by which 
the poem calls the monkeys of Rama's army. Among the two 
or three derivations of which the word Vanar is susceptible, one 
is that which deduces it from vana which signifies a wood, and 
thus Vanar would mean a forester, an inhabitant of the wood. I 
have said elsewhere that the monkeys, the Vanars, whom Rama 
led to the conquest of Ceylon were fierce woodland tribes who 
occupied the mountainous regions of the south of India, where 
their descendants may still be seen. I shall hence forth promis- 
cuously employ the word Vdnar to denote those monkeys, those 
fierce combatants of Rama's army." Gorresio. 



Page 326. 

No change of hue, no pose of limb 
Gave sign that aught was false in him. 
Concise, unfaltering, sweet and clear, 
Without a word to pain the ear, 
From chest to throat, nor high nor low, 
His accents came in measured flow. 



Page 329. Rama's Alliance With Sugrfva. 1857 

Somewhat similarly in The Squire's Tale: 

"He with a manly voice said his message, 
After the form used in his language, 
Withouten vice of syllable or of letter. 
And for his tale shoulde seem the better 
Accordant to his wordes was his chere, 
As teacheth art of speech them that it lere." 



Page 329. Rama's Alliance With Sugrfva. 

"The literal interpretation of this portion of the Ramayana is 
indeed deeply rooted in the mind of the Hindu. He implicitly 
believes that Rama is Vishnu, who became incarnate for the 
purpose of destroying the demon Ravana: that he permitted his 
wife to be captured by Ravana for the sake of delivering the gods 
and Brahmans from the oppressions of the Rakshasa; and that he 
ultimately assembled an army of monkeys, who were the progeny 
of the gods, and led them against the strong-hold of Ravana at 
Lanka, and delivered the world from the tyrant Rakshasa, whilst 
obtaining ample revenge for his own personal wrongs. [546] 

One other point seems to demand consideration, namely, the 
possibility of such an alliance as that which Rama is said to have 
concluded with the monkeys. This possibility will of course be 
denied by modern critics, but still it is interesting to trace out 
the circumstances which seem to have led to the acceptance of 
such a wild belief by the dreamy and marvel loving Hindi. The 
south of India swarms with monkeys of curious intelligence and 
rare physical powers. Their wonderful instinct for organization, 
their attachment to particular localities, their occasional journeys 
in large numbers over mountains and across rivers, their obsti- 
nate assertion of supposed rights, and the ridiculous caricature 



1858 The Ramayana 

which they exhibit of all that is animal and emotional in man, 
would naturally create a deep impression. . . . Indeed the habits of 
monkeys well deserve to be patiently studied; not as they appear 
in confinement, when much that is revolting in their nature is 
developed, but as they appear living in freedom amongst the 
trees of the forest, or in the streets of crowded cities, or precincts 
of temples. Such a study would not fail to awaken strange ideas; 
and although the European would not be prepared to regard 
monkeys as sacred animals he might be led to speculate as to 
their origin by the light of data, which are at present unknown 
to the naturalist whose observations have been derived from the 
menagerie alone. 

Whatever, however, may have been the train of ideas which 
led the Hindu to regard the monkey as a being half human and 
half divine, there can be little doubt that in the Ramayana the 
monkeys of southern India have been confounded with what may 
be called the aboriginal people of the country. The origin of this 
confusion may be easily conjectured. Perchance the aborigines 
of the country may have been regarded as a superior kind of 
monkeys; and to this day the features of the Marawars, who are 
supposed to be the aborigines of the southern part of the Carnatic, 
are not only different from those of their neighbours, but are of a 
character calculated to confirm the conjecture. Again, it is prob- 
able that the army of aborigines may have been accompanied by 
outlying bands of monkeys impelled by that magpie-like curios- 
ity and love of plunder which are the peculiar characteristics of 
the monkey race; and this incident may have given rise to the 
story that the army was composed of Monkeys." 

Wheeler's History of India. Vol. II. pp. 316 ff. 



Page 342. The Fall Of Bali. 



Page 370. The Vanar Host. 1859 

"As regards the narrative, it certainly seems to refer to some real 
event amongst the aboriginal tribes: namely, the quarrel between 
an elder and younger brother for the possession of a Raj; and 
the subsequent alliance of Rama with the younger brother. It 
is somewhat remarkable that Rama appears to have formed an 
alliance with the wrong party, for the right of Bali was evidently 
superior to that of Sugriva; and it is especially worthy of note 
that Rama compassed the death of Bali by an act contrary to 
all the laws of fair fighting. Again, Rama seems to have tacitly 
sanctioned the transfer of Tara from Bali to Sugriva, which was 
directly opposed to modern rule, although in conformity with the 
rude customs of a barbarous age; and it is remarkable that to this 
day the marriage of both widows and divorced women is prac- 
tised by the Marawars, or aborigines of the southern Carnatic, 
contrary to the deeply-rooted prejudice which exists against such 
unions amongst the Hindus at large." 
Wheeler's History of India, Vol. II. 324. 



Page 370. The Vanar Host. 

"The splendid Marutas form the army of Indras, the red-haired 
monkeys and bears that of Ramas; and the mythical and solar 
nature of the monkeys and bears of the Ramayanam manifests 
itself several times. The king of the monkeys is a sun-god. The 
ancient king was named Balin, and was the son of Indras. His 
younger brother Sugrivas, he who changes his shape at pleasure 
(Kamarupas), who, helped by Ramas, usurped his throne, is said 
to be own child of the sun. Here it is evident that the Vedic antag- 
onism between Indras and Vishnus is reproduced in a zoological 
and entirely apish form. The old Zeus must give way to the new, 



[547] 



1860 The Ramayana 

the moon to the sun, the evening to the morning sun, the sun of 
winter to that of spring; the young son betrays and overthrows 
the old one.... Ramas, who treacherously kills the old king of 
the monkeys, Balin, is the equivalent of Vishnus, who hurls his 
predecessor Indras from his throne; and Sugrivas, the new king 
of the monkeys resembles Indras when he promises to find the 
ravished Sita, in the same way as Vishnus in one of his incarna- 
tions finds again the lost vedas. And there are other indications in 
the Ramayanam of opposition between Indras and the monkeys 
who assist Ramas. The great monkey Hanumant, of the reddish 
colour of gold, has his jaw broken, Indras having struck him with 
his thunderbolt and caused him to fall upon a mountain, because, 
while yet a child, he threw himself off a mountain into the air in 
order to arrest the course of the sun, whose rays had no effect 
upon him. (The cloud rises from the mountain and hides the 
sun, which is unable of itself to disperse it; the tempest comes, 
and brings flashes of lightning and thunder-bolts, which tear the 
cloud in pieces.) 

The whole legend of the monkey Hanumant represents the 
sun entering into the cloud or darkness, and coming out of it. 
His father is said to be now the wind, now the elephant of the 
monkeys (Kapikunjaras), now Kesarin, the long-haired sun, the 
sun with a mane, the lion sun (whence his name of Kesarinah 
putrah). From this point of view, Hanumant would seem to be 
the brother of Sugrivas, who is also the offspring of the sun.. . . 

All the epic monkeys of the Ramayanam are described in 
the twentieth canto of the first book by expressions which very 
closely resemble those applied in the Vedic hymns to the Maru- 
tas, as swift as the tempestuous wind, changing their shape at 
pleasure, making a noise like clouds, sounding like thunder, 
battling, hurling mountain-peaks, shaking great uprooted trees, 
stirring up the deep waters, crushing the earth with their arms, 
making the clouds fall. Thus Balin comes out of the cavern as 
the sun out of the cloud. . . . 



Page 372. 1861 

But the legend of the monkey Hanumant presents another 
curious resemblance to that of Samson. Hanumant is bound with 
cords by Indrajit, son of Ravanas; he could easily free himself, 
but does not wish to do so. Ravanas to put him to shame, orders 
his tail to be burned, because the tail is the part most prized by 
monkeys.... 

The tail of Hanumant, which sets fire to the city of the mon- 
sters, is probably a personification of the rays of the morning or 
spring sun, which sets fire to the eastern heavens, and destroys 
the abode of the nocturnal or winter monsters." 

De Gubernatis, Zoological Mythology, Vol. II. pp. 100 ff. [548] 

"The Jaitwas of Rajputana, a tribe politically reckoned as 
Rajputs, nevertheless trace their descent from the monkey-god 
Hanuman, and confirm it by alleging that their princes still bear 
its evidence in a tail-like prolongation of the spine; a tradition 
which has probably a real ethnological meaning, pointing out the 
Jaitwas as of non- Aryan race." 1040 Tylor's Primitive Culture, 
Vol. I. p. 341. 



Page 372. 



The names of peoples occurring in the following slokas are 
omitted in the metrical translation: 

"Go to the Brahmamalas, 1041 the Videhas, 1042 the 



1040 Campbell in "Journ. As. Soc. Bengal," 1866, Part ii. p. 132; Latham, 
"Descr. Eth." Vol. ii. p. 456; Tod, "Annals of Rajasthan," Vol. i. p. 114. 

1041 Said by the commentator to be an eastern people between the Himalayan 
and Vindhyan chains. 

1042 Videha was a district in the province of Behar, the ancient Mithila or the 
modern Tirhoot. 



1862 The Ramayana 

Malavas, 1043 the Kasikosalas, 1044 the Magadnas, 1045 the 
Pundras, 1046 and the Angas, 1047 and the land of the weavers 
of silk, and the land of the mines of silver, and the hills that 
stretch into the sea, and the towns and the hamlets that are about 
the top of Mandar, and the Karnapravaranas, 1048 and the Os- 



1043 The people of Malwa. 

1044 "jjj e Kasikosalas are a central nation in the Vayu Purana. The Ramayana 
places them in the east. The combination indicates the country between 
Benares and Oude.... Kosala is a name variously applied. Its earliest and most 
celebrated application is to the country on the banks of the Sarayu, the kingdom 
of Rama, of which Ayodhya was the capital. ... In the Mahabharata we have 
one Kosala in the east and another in the south, besides the Prak-Kosalas and 
Uttara Kosalas in the east and north. The Puranas place the Kosalas amongst 
the people on the back of Vindhya; and it would appear from the Vayu that 
Kusa the son of Rama transferred his kingdom to a more central position; 
he ruled over Kosala at his capital of Kusasthali of Kusavatl, built upon the 
Vindhyan precipices." WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnnu Purana, Vol. II. pp. 157, 172. 

1045 rpj^g p e0 pj e f soum Behar. 

1046 rpj^g p un j ras are gjjjj t0 b e (h e inhabitants of the western provinces of 
Bengal. "In the Aitareyabrdhmana, VII. 18, it is said that the elder sons of 
Visvamitra were cursed to become progenitors of most abject races, such as 
Andhras, Pundras, Sabaras, Pulindas, and Mutibas." WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnu 
Purana Vol. II. 170. 

1047 Anga is the country about Bhagulpore, of which Champa was the capital. 

1048 ^ fabulous people, "men who use their ears as a covering." So Sir John 
Maundevile says: "And in another Yle ben folk that han gret Eres and long, 



Page 374. 1863 

hthakarnakas, 1049 and the Ghoralohamukhas, 1050 and the swift [549] 
Ekapadakas, 1051 and the strong imperishable Eaters of Men, and 
the Kiratas 1052 with stiff hair-tufts, men like gold and fair to look 
upon: And the Eaters of Raw Fish, and the Kiratas who dwell in 
islands, and the fierce Tiger-men 1053 who live amid the waters." 



Page 374. 



that hangen down to here knees," and Pliny, lib. iv. c. 13: "In quibus nuda 
alioquin corpora praegrandes ipsorum aures tota contegunt." Isidore calls them 
Panotii. 

1049 "i^ose whose ears hang down to their lips." 

1050 "The Iron-faces." 

1051 "The One-footed." 

"In that Contree," says Sir John Maundevile, "ben folk, that han but o 
foot and thei gon so fast that it is marvaylle: and the foot is so large that it 
schadeweth alle the Body azen the Sonne, when thei wole lye and rest hem." 
So Pliny, Natural History, lib. vii. c. 2: speaks of "Hominumn gens . . . singulis 
cruribus, mirae pernicitatis ad saltum; eosdemque Sciopodas vocari, quod in 
majori aestu, humi jacentes resupini, umbra se pedum protegant." 

These epithets are, as Professor Wilson remarks, "exaggerations of national 
ugliness, or allusions to peculiar customs, which were not literally intended, 
although they may have furnished the Mandevilles of ancient and modern 
times." 

Vishnu Purdna, Vol. II. p. 162. 

1052 The Kirrhadae of Arrian: a general name for savage tribes living in woods 
and mountains. 

1053 Said by the commentator to be half tigers half men. 



1864 The Ramayana 

"Go to the Vidarbhas 1054 and the Rishtikas 1055 and the 
Mahishikas, 1056 and the Matsyas 1057 and Kalingas 1058 and the 
Kausikas 1059 . . . and the Andhras 1060 and the Pundras 1061 and the 



1054 The kingdom seems to have corresponded with the greater part of Berar 
and Khandesh. 

1055 The Bengal recension has Kishikas, and places them both in the south and 
the north. 

1056 The people of Mysore. 

1057 "jjjgj-g are two Matsyas, one of which, according to the Yantra Samraj, is 
identifiable with Jeypoor. In the Digvijaya of Nakula he subdues the Matsyas 
further to the west, or Gujerat." WILSON'SJFNS Vishnu Purdna, Vol. II. 
158. Dr. Hall observes: "In the Mahdbhdrata Sabhd-parwan, 1105 and 1108, 
notice is taken of the king of Matsya and of the Aparamatsyas; and, at 1082, 
the Matsyas figure as an eastern people. They are placed among the nations 
of the south in the Rdmdyana Kishkindhd-kdnda, XLI., II, while the Bengal 
recension, Kishkindhd-kdnda, XLIV., 12, locates them in the north." 

1058 The Kalingas were the people of the upper part of the Coromandel Coast, 
well known, in the traditions of the Eastern Archipelago, as Kling. Ptole- 
my has a city in that part, called Caliga; and Pliny Calingas proximi mari. 
WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnu Purdna, Vol. II. 156, Note. 

1059 jj^g j^ausikas do not appear to be identifiable. 

1060 jj^g Andhras probably occupied the modern Telingana. 

1061 The Pundras have already been mentioned in Canto XL. 



Page 374. 1865 

Cholas 1062 and the Pandyas 1063 and the Keralas, 1064 Mlechch- [550] 
has 1065 and the Pulindas 1066 and the Surasenas, 1067 and the 
Prasthalas and the Bharatas and Madrakas 1068 and the Kambo- 



1062 The inhabitants of the lower part of the Coromandel Coast; so called, after 
them, Cholamandala. 

1063 A people in the Deccan. 

1064 rp^g K era i as were the people of Malabar proper. 

1065 A generic term for persons speaking any language but Sanskrit and not 
conforming to the usual Hindu institutions. 

1066 "p u i mt j a j s a ppii e( j to any wild or barbarous tribe. Those here named are 
some of the people of the deserts along the Indus; but Pulindas are met with 
in many other positions, especially in the mountains and forests across Central 
India, the haunts of the Bheels and Gonds. So Ptolemy places the Pulindas 
along the banks of the Narmada, to the frontiers of Larice, the Lata or Lar of 
the Hindus, — Khandesh and part of Gujerat." WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnu Purdna, 
Vol. II. 159, Note. 

Dr. Hall observes that "in the Bengal recension of the Rdmdyana the 
Pulindas appear both in the south and in the north. The real Rdmdyana K.-k., 
XLIIL, speaks of the northern Pulindas." 

1067 rpj ie g U rasenas were the inhabitants of Mathura, the Suraseni of Arrian. 

1068 j nese me Mardi of the Greeks and the two preceding tribes appear to have 
dwelt in the north-west of Hindustan. 



1866 The Ramayana 

jas 1069 and the Yavanas 1070 and the towns of the Sakas 1071 and 
theVaradas." 1072 



Page 378. Northern Kurus. 

Professor Lassen remarks in the Zeitschrift fur die Kunde des 
Morgenlandes, ii. 62: "At the furthest accessible extremity of the 
earth appears Harivarsha with the northern Kurus. The region 
of Hari or Vishnu belongs to the system of mythical geography; 
but the case is different with the Uttara Kurus. Here there is a 
real basis of geographical fact; of which fable has only taken 
advantage, without creating it. The Uttara Kurus were formerly 
quite independent of the mythical system of dvipas, though they 
were included in it at an early date." Again the same writer says 
at p. 65: "That the conception of the Uttara Kurus is based upon 
an actual country and not on mere invention, is proved (1) by 
[551] the way in which they are mentioned in the Vedas; (2) by the 

existence of Uttara Kuru in historical times as a real country; and 



1069 The Kambojas are said to be the people of Arachosia. They are always 
mentioned with the north-western tribes. 

1070 "jjjg term Yavanas, although, in later times, applied to the Mohammedans, 
designated formerly the Greeks.... The Greeks were known throughout West- 
ern Asia by the term Yavan, or Ion. That the Macedonian or Bactrian Greeks 
were most usually intended is not only probable from their position and rela- 
tions with India, but from their being usually named in concurrence with the 
north-western tribes, Kambojas, Daradas, Paradas, Bahlfkas, Sakas &c, in the 
Ramayana. Mahabharata, Puranas, Manu, and in various poems and plays." 
WlLSON'S{FNS Vishnu Purdna Vol. II. p. 181, Note. 

1071 These people, the Sakai and Sacae of classical writers, the Indo-Scythians 
of Ptolemy, extended, about the commencement of our era, along the west of 
India, from the Hindu Kosh to the mouths of the Indus. 

1072 rj.j ie correS p 0nc ji n g passage in the Bengal recension has instead of Varadas 
Daradas the Dards or inhabitants of the modern Dardistan along the course of 
the Indus, above the Himalayas, just before it descends to India. 



Page 378. Northern Kurus. 1867 

(3) by the way in which the legend makes mention of that region 
as the home of primitive customs. To begin with the last point the 
Mahabharata speaks as follows of the freer mode of life which 
women led in the early world, Book I. verses 4719-22: 'Women 
were formerly unconfined and roved about at their pleasure, in- 
dependent. Though in their youthful innocence they abandoned 
their husbands, they were guilty of no offence; for such was the 
rule in early times. This ancient custom is even now the law for 
creatures born as brutes, which are free from lust and anger. This 
custom is supported by authority and is observed by great rishis, 
and it is still practiced among the northern Kurus. 7 

"The idea which is here conveyed is that of the continuance in 
one part of the world of that original blessedness which prevailed 
in the golden age. To afford a conception of the happy condition 
of the southern Kurus it is said in another place (M.-Bh, i. 4346.) 
'The southern Kurus vied in happiness with the northern Kurus 
and with the divine rishis and bards.' 

Professor Lassen goes on to say: 'Ptolemy (vi. 16.) is also 
acquainted with Uttara Kuru. He speaks of a mountain, a peo- 
ple, and a city called Ottorakorra. Most of the other ancient 
authors who elsewhere mention this name, have it from him. 
It is a part of the country which he calls Serica; according to 
him the city lies twelve degrees west from the metropolis of 
Sera, and the mountain extends from thence far to the eastward. 
As Ptolemy has misplaced the whole of eastern Asia beyond 
the Ganges, the relative position which he assigns will guide 
us better that the absolute one, which removes Ottorakorra so 
far to the east that a correction is inevitable. According to my 
opinion the Ottorakorra of Ptolemy must be sought for to the 
east of Kashgar.' Lassen also thinks that Magasthenes had the 
Uttara Kurus in view when he referred to the Hyperboreans who 
were fabled by Indian writers to live a thousand years. In his 
Indian antiquities, (Ind. Alterthumskunde, i. 511, 512. and note,) 
the same writer concludes that though the passages above cited 



[552] 



1868 The Ramayana 

relative to the Uttara Kurus indicate a belief in the existence of a 
really existing country of that name in the far north, yet that the 
descriptions there given are to be taken as pictures of an ideal 
paradise, and not as founded on any recollections of the northern 
origin of the Kurus. It is probable, he thinks, that some such 
reminiscences originally existed, and still survived in the Vedic 
era, though there is no trace of their existence in latter times." 
Muir's Sanskrit Texts, Vol. II. pp. 336, 337. 



Page 428. 



Trust to these mighty Vdnars. 

The corresponding passage in the Bengal recension has "these 
silvans in the forms of monkeys, vanarah kapirupinah." "Here 
it manifestly appears," says Gorresio, "that these hosts of com- 
batants whom Rama led to the conquest of Lanka (Ceylon) the 
kingdom and seat of the Hamitic race, and whom the poem calls 
monkeys, were in fact as I have elsewhere observed, inhabitants 
of the mountainous and southern regions of India, who were 
wild-looking and not altogether unlike monkeys. They were 
perhaps the remote ancestors of the Malay races." 



Page 431. 



"Art thou not he who slew of old 

The Serpent-Gods, and stormed their hold. " 



Page 434. 1869 

All these exploits of Ravan are detailed in the Uttarakdnda, and 
epitomized in the Appendix. 



Page 434. 

Within the consecrated hall. 

The Brahman householder ought to maintain three sacred fires, 
the Gdrhapatya, the Ahavaniya and the Dakshina. These three 
fires were made use of in many Brahmanical solemnities, for 
example in funeral rites when the three fires were arranged in 
prescribed order. 



Page 436. 

Fair Punjikasthald I met. 

"I have not noticed in the Uttara Kanda any story about the 
daughter of Varuna, but the commentator on the text (VI 60, 11) 
explains the allusion to her thus: 

"The daughter of Varuna was Punjikasthali. On her account, 
a curse of Brahma, involving the penalty of death, [was pro- 
nounced] on the rape of women." Muir, Sanskrit Texts, Part IV. 
Appendix. 



Page 452. 

"Shall no funereal honours grace 
The parted lord ofRaghu's race?" 



1870 The Ramayana 

"Here are indicated those admirable rites and those funeral 
prayers which Professor Muller has described in his excellent 
work, Die Todtenbestattung bei den Brahmanen, Sita laments 
that the body of Rama will not be honoured with those rites and 
prayers, nor will the Brahman priest while laying the ashes from 
the pile in the bosom of the earth, pronounce over them those 
solemn and magnificent words: 'Go unto the earth, thy mother, 
the ample, wide, and blessed earth.... And do thou, O Earth, 
open and receive him as a friend with sweet greeting: enfold 
him in thy bosom as a mother wraps her child in her robes.' '' 
Gorresio. 



Page 462. 



Each glorious sign 
That stamps the future queen is mine. 

We read in Josephus that Caesar was so well versed in chiro- 
mancy that when one day a soi-disant son of Herod had audience 
of him, he at once detected the impostor because his hand was 
destitute of all marks of royalty. 



Page 466. 



In battle's wild Gandharva dance. 



Page 470. 1871 

"Here the commentator explains: 'the battle resembled the dance 
of the Gandharvas,' in accordance with the notion of the Gand- 
harvas entertained in his day. They were regarded as celestial 
musicians enlivening with their melodies Indra's heaven and 
the banquets of the Gods. But the Gandharvas before becoming 
celestial musicians in popular tradition, were in the primitive 
and true signification of the name heroes, spirited and ardent 
warriors, followers of Indra, and combined the heroical character 
with their atmospherical deity. Under this aspect the dance of 
the Gandharvas may be a very different thing from what the 
commentator means, and may signify the horrid dance of war." 
Gorresio. 

The Homeric expression is similar, "to dance a war-dance 
before Ares." 



Page 470. 



By Anaranya' s lips of old. 

"The story of Anaranya is told in the Uttara Kanda of the 
Ramayana. . . . Anaranya a descendant of Ixvaku and King of Ay- 
odhya, when called upon to fight with Ravana or acknowledge 
himself conquered, prefers the former alternative; but his army 
is overcome, and he himself is thrown from his chariot. 

When Ravana triumphs over his prostrate foe, the latter says 
that he has been vanquished not by him but by fate, and that 
Ravana is only the instrument of his overthrow; and he predicts 
that Ravana shall one day be slain by his descendant Rama." 
Sanskrit Texts, IV., Appendix. 



1872 The Ramayana 

Page 497. 

"With regard to the magic image of Sita made by Indrajit, we 
may observe that this thoroughly oriental idea is also found in 
Greece in Homer's Iliad, where Apollo forms an image of iEneas 
to save that hero beloved by the Gods: it occurs too in the iEneid 
of Virgil where Juno forms a fictitious iEneas to save Turnus: 

Turn dea nube cava tenuem sine viribus umbram 
In faciem iEneae (visu mirabile monstrum) 
Dardaniis ornat telis; clipeumque jubasque 
Divini assimulat capitis; dat inania verba; 
Dat sine mente sonum, gressusque effingit euntis. 

{Mneidos, lib. X.)" Gorresio. 



Page 489. 

"To Raghu's son my chariot lend. " 

"Analogous to this passage of the Ramayana, where Indra sends 
to Rama his own chariot, his own charioteer, and his own arms, is 
the passage in the iEneid where Venus descending from heaven 
brings celestial arms to her son ^Eneas when he is about to enter 
the battle: 

At Venus sethereos inter dea Candida nimbos 
Dona fereus aderat;. . . 

Arma sub adversa posuit radiantia quercum. 
Ille, dese donis et tanto laetus honore, 
Expleri nequit, atque oculus per singula volvit, 
Miraturque, interque manus et brachia versat 
Terribilem cristis galeam flammasque vomentem, 
Fatiferumque ensem, loricam ex sere rigentem. 



Page 489. 1873 

{ALneidos, lib. VIII)" Gorresio. 



Page 489. 



Agastya came and gently spake. 

"The Muni or saint Agastya, author of several Vedic hymns, 
was celebrated in Indo-Sanskrit tradition for having directed the 
first brahmanical settlements in the southern regions of India; 
and the Mahabharata gives him the credit of having subjected 
those countries, expelled the Rakshases. and given security to 
the solitary ascetics, who were settled there. Hence Agastya 
was regarded in ancient legend as the conqueror and ruler of the 
southern country. This tradition refers to the earliest migrations 
made by the Sanskrit Indians towards the south of India. To 
Agastya are attributed many marvellous mythic deeds which 
adumbrate and veil ancient events; some of which are alluded to 
here and there in the Ramayana." Gorresio. 

The following is the literal translation of the Canto, text and 
commentary, from the Calcutta edition: 

Having found Rama weary with fighting and buried in deep 
thought, and Ravan standing before him ready to engage in battle, 
the holy Agastya, who had come to see the battle, approached 
Rama and spoke to him thus: "O mighty Rama, listen to the old 
mystery by which thou wilt conquer all thy foes in the battle. 
Having daily repeated the Adityahridaya (the delighter of the 
mind of the Sun) the holy prayer which destroys all enemies (of 
him who repeats it) gives victory, removes all sins, sorrows and 
distress, increases life, and which is the blessing of all blessings, 
worship the rising and splendid sun who is respected by both 



[554] 



[555] 



1 874 The Ramayana 

the Gods and demons, who gives light to all bodies and who is 
the rich lord of all the worlds, (To the question why this prayer 
claims so great reverence; the sage answers) Since yonder 1073 
sun is full of glory and all gods reside in him (he being their 
material cause) and bestows being and the active principle on all 
creatures by his rays; and since he protects all deities, demons 
and men with his rays. 



He is Brahma, 1074 Vishnu, 1075 Siva, 1076 Skanda, 1077 
Prajapati, 1078 Mahendra, 1079 Dhanada, 1080 Kala, 1081 Ya- 
ma, 1082 Soma, 1083 Apam Pati i.e. The lord of wa- 
ters, Pitris, 1084 Vasus, 1085 Sadhyas, 1086 As'vins, 1087 



1073 From the word yonder it would appear that the prayer is to be repeated at 
the rising of the Sun. 

1074 j^g creator f me wor i(j an( ] the first of the Hindu triad. 

1075 He who pervades all beings; or the second of the Hindu triad who preserves 
the world. 

1076 rpj^g b estower f blessings; the third of the Hindu triad and the destroyer of 
the world. 

1077 A name of the War-God; also one who urges the senses to action. 

1078 rp^ e j on j o j creatures . or m e God of sacrifices. 

1079 A name of the King of Gods; also all-powerful. 

1080 jj^g gj ver f wea i m . a name of the God of riches. 

1081 One who directly urges the mental faculties to action. 

1082 One who moderates the senses, also the God of the regions of the dead. 

1083 One who produces nectar (amrita) or one who is always possessed of light; 
or one together with Uma (Ardhanarisvara). 

1084 The names or spirits of departed ancestors. 

1085 Name of a class of eight Gods, also wealthy. 

1086 j n ey who are to be served by Yogis; or a class of Gods named Sadhyas. 

1087 The two physicians of the Gods: or they who pervade all beings. 



Page 489. 1875 

Maruts, 1088 Manu, 1089 Vayu, 1090 Vahni, 1091 Praja, 1092 

Prana, 1093 Ritukarta, 1094 Prabhakara, 1095 (Thou, 1096 art) 

Aditya, 1097 Savita, 1098 Surya, 1099 Khaga, 1100 Pushan, 1101 



loss jjjgy w jj ^ immortal; or a class of Gods forty-nine in number. 

1089 Omniscient; or the first king of the world. 

1090 He that moves; life; or the God of wind. 

1091 The God of fire. 

1093 One who prolongs our lives. 

1094 rp^g mater j a j cause f knowledge and of the seasons. 

1095 One who shines. The giver of light. 

1096 The hymn entitled the Adityahridaya begins from this verse and the words, 
thou art, are understood in the beginning of this verse. 

1097 One who enjoys all (pleasurable) objects; The son of Aditi, the lord of the 
solar disk. 

1098 One who creates the world, i.e., endows beings with life or soul, and by his 
rays causes rain and thereby produces corn. 

1099 One who urges the world to action or puts the world in motion, who is 
omnipresent. 

One who walks through the sky; or pervades the soul. 
1101 One who nourishes the world, i.e., is the supporter. 



1876 The Ramayana 



Gabhastiman, 1102 Suvarnasadrisa, 1103 Bhanu, 1104 Hirany, 
tas, 1105 Divakara, 1106 Haridasva, 1107 Sahasrarchish, 1108 Sap- 
tasapti, 1109 Marichiman, 1110 Timironmathana, 1111 Sambhu, 1112 
Twashta, 1113 Martanda, 1114 Ansuman, 1115 Hiranyagarbha, 1116 



are- 
Sap- 



1102 One having rays (Gabhasti) or he who is possessed of the all-pervading 
goddess Lakshmi. 

103 One resembling gold. 

104 One who is resplendent or who gives light to other objects. 

105 One whose seed (Retas) is gold; or quicksilver, the material cause of gold. 

106 One who is the cause of day. 

107 One whose horses are of tawny colour; or one who pervades the whole 
space or quarters. 

108 One whose knowledge is boundless or who has a thousand rays. 

109 One who urges the seven (Pranas) that is the two eyes, the two ears, the 
nostrils and the organ of speech, or whose chariot, is drawn by seven horses. 

110 Vide Gabhastiman. 

111 One who destroys darkness, or ignorance. 

112 One from whom our blessings or the enjoyments of Paradise come. 

113 The architect of the gods; or one who lessens the miseries of our birth and 
death. 

114 One who gives life to the lifeless world. 

115 One who pervades the internal and external worlds; or one who is resplen- 
dent. 

1116 He who is identified with the Hindu triad, i.e. the creator (Brahma) the 
supporter (Vishnu) and the destroyer (Siva). 



Page 489. 1877 

Sisira, 1117 Tapana, 1118 Ahaskara, 1119 Ravi, 1120 Agnigarbha, 1121 
Aditiputra, 1122 Sankha, 1123 Sisiranasana, 1124 Vyomanatha, 1125 
Tamobhedi, 1126 Rigyajussamaparaga, 1127 Ghanavrishti, 1128 
Apam-Mitra, 1129 Vindhyavithiplavangama, 1130 Atapi, 1131 Man- 
dalf, 1132 Mrityu (death), Pingala, 1133 Sarvatapana, 1134 Kavi, 1135 



1122 



1117 Cold or good natured. He is so called because he allays the three sorts of 
pain. 

1118 ( 

1119 Vide Divakara. 

1120 One who teaches Brahma and others the Vedas. 
121 One from whom Rudra the destroyer or the third of the Hindu triad springs. 

One who is knowable through Aditi, i.e., the eternal Brahmavidya. 

1123 Great happiness or the sky. 

1124 The destroyer of cold or stupidity. 

1125 The Lord of the sky. 

1126 Vide Timironmathana. 

1127 One who is known through the Upanishads. 

1128 He who is the cause of heavy rain. 

1129 He who is a friend to the good, or who is the cause of water. 

1130 One who moves in the solar orbit. 

1131 One who determines the creation of the world; or who is possessed of heat. 

1132 One who has a mass of rays; or who has Kaustubha and other precious 
stones as his ornaments. 

1133 He who urges all to action; or who is yellow in colour. 

1134 One who is the destroyer of all. 

1135 



[556] 



One who is omniscient; or a poet. 



1878 The Ramayana 

Visva, 1136 Mahatejas, 1137 Rakta, 1138 Sarvabhavodbhava. 1139 The 
Lord of stars, planets, and other luminous bodies, Visvabha- 
vana, 1140 Tejasvinam-Tejasvi, 1141 Dwadasatman: 1142 I salute 
thee. I salute thee who art the eastern mountain. I salute thee 
who art the western mountain. I salute thee who art the Lord of 
all the luminous bodies. I salute thee who art the Lord of days. 

I respectfully salute thee who art Jay a, 1 Jayabhadra, 1144 
Haryasa, 1145 O Thou who hast a thousand rays, I repeatedly 
salute thee. I repeatedly and respectfully salute thee who art 
Aditya, I repeatedly salute thee who art Ugra, 1146 Vfra, 1147 and 
Saranga. 1148 I salute thee who openest the lotuses (or the lotus 
of the heart). I salute thee who art furious. I salute thee who 
art the Lord of Brahma, Siva and Vishnu. I salute thee who 
art the sun, Adityavarchas, 1149 splendid, Sarvabhaksha, 1150 and 
Raudravapush. ll51 

I salute thee who destroyest darkness, cold and enemies: 
whose form is boundless, who art the destroyer of the ungrateful; 



1137 One who is of huge form. 

1138 One who pleases all by giving nourishment; or who is red in colour. 

1139 One who is the cause of the whole world. 

1140 One who protects the whole world. 

1141 



The most glorious of all that are glorious. 



One who gives victory over all the worlds to those who are faithfully 
devoted to him; or the porter of Brahma, named Jaya. 

1144 One who is identical with the blessing which can be obtained by conquering 
all the worlds; or with the porter of Brahma named Jayabhadra. 

1145 One who has Hamiman as his conveyance. 

1146 One who controls the senses; or is furious with those who are not his 
devotees. 

1147 He who is free in moving the senses; or urges all beings to action. 

1148 He who can be known through the Pranava (the mystical Om-kara.) 

1 149 One who is the knowledge of Brahma. 

1150 One who devours all things. 

1151 He who is the destroyer of all pains; and of love, and hate, the causes of 
pain; and ignorance which is the cause of love and hate. 



Page 492. Ravan's Funeral. 1879 

who art Deva; 1152 who art the Lord of the luminous bodies, and 
who appearest like the heated gold. I salute thee who art Hari, 1153 
Visvakarman, 1154 the destroyer of darkness, and who art splen- 
did and Lokasakshin. 1155 Yonder sun destroys the whole of the 
material world and also creates it. Yonder sun dries (all earthly 
things), destroys them and causes rain with his rays. He wakes 
when our senses are asleep; and resides within all beings. Yonder 
sun is Agnihotra 1156 and also the fruit obtained by the performer [557] 
of Agnihotra. He is identified with the gods, sacrifices, and the 
fruit of the sacrifices. He is the Lord of all the duties known to 
the world, if any man, O Raghava, in calamities, miseries, forests 
and dangers, prays to yonder sun, he is never overwhelmed by 
distress. 

Worship, with close attention Him the God of gods and the 
Lord of the world; and recite these verses thrice, whereby thou 
wilt be victorious in the battle. O brave one, thou wilt kill Ravana 
this very instant." 

Thereupon Agastya having said this went away as he came. 
The glorious Rama having heard this became free from sor- 
row. Raghava whose senses were under control, being pleased, 
committed the hymn to memory, recited it facing the sun, and 
obtained great delight. The brave Rama having sipped water 
thrice and become pure took his bow, and seeing Ravana, was 
delighted, and meditated on the sun. 

[558] 



Page 492. Ravan's Funeral. 

1152 One who is bliss; or the mover. 

1153 One who destroys ignorance and its effects. 

1154 The doer of all actions. 

1155 One who beholds the universe; who is a witness of good and bad actions. 



1880 The Ramay ana 

"In the funeral ceremonies of India the fire was placed on three 
sides of the pyre; the Dakshina on the south, the Gdrhapatya on 
the west, and the Ahavaniya on the east. The funeral rites are not 
described in detail here, and it is therefore difficult to elucidate 
and explain them. The poem assigns the funeral ceremonies of 
Aryan Brahmans to the Rakshases, a race different from them 
in origin and religion, in the same way as Homer sometimes 
introduces into Troy the rites of the Grecian cult." Gorresio. 

Mr. Muir translates the description of the funeral from the 
Calcutta edition, as follows: "They formed, with Vedic rites, a 
funeral pile of faggots of sandal-wood, with padmaka wood, usi- 
ra grass, and sandal, and covered with a quilt of deer's hair. They 
then performed an unrivalled obsequial ceremony for the Raxasa 
prince, placing the sacrificial ground to the S.E. and the fire in 
the proper situation. They cast the ladle filled with curds and 
ghee on the shoulder 1157 of the deceased; he (?) placed the car 
on the feet, and the mortar between the thighs. Having deposited 
all the wooden vessels, the [upper] and lower fire-wood, and the 
other pestle, in their proper places, they departed. The Raxasas 
having then slain a victim to their prince in the manner prescribed 
in the Sastras, and enjoined by great rishis, cast [into the fire] the 
coverlet of the king saturated with ghee. They then, Vibhishana 
included, with afflicted hearts, adorned Ravana with perfumes 
and garlands, and with various vestments, and besprinkled him 
with fried grain. Vibhishana having bathed, and having, with 
his clothes wet, scattered in proper form tila seeds mixed with 
darbha grass, and moistened with water, applied the fire [to the 
pile]." 



1157 According to Apastamba (says the commentator) "it should have been 
placed on the nose: this must therefore have been done in conformity with 
some other Sutras." 



Page 496. 1881 

Page 496. 

The following is a literal translation of Brahma's address to Rama 
according to the Calcutta edition, text and commentary: 

"O Rama, how dost thou, being the creator of all the world, 
best of all those who have profound knowledge of the Upanishads 
and all-powerful as thou art, suffer Sita to fall in the fire? How 
dost thou not know thyself as the best of the gods? Thou art 
one of the primeval Vasus, 1158 and also their lord and creator. 
Thou art thyself the lord and first creator of the three worlds. 
Thou art the eighth (that is Mahadeva) of the Rudras, 1159 and 
also the fifth 1160 of the Sadhyas. 1161 (The poet describes Rama 
as made of the following gods) The Asvinikumaras (the twin 
divine physicians of the gods) are thy ears; the sun and the moon 
are thy eyes; and thou hast been seen in the beginning and at the 
end of creation. How dost thou neglect the daughter of Videha 
(Janaka} like a man whose actions are directed by the dictates 
of nature?" Thus addressed by Indra, Brahma and the other [559] 
gods, Rama the descendant of Raghu, lord of the world and the 
best of the virtuous, spoke to the chief of the gods. "As I take 
myself to be a man of the name of Rama and son of Dasaratha, 
therefore, sir, please tell me who I am and whence have I come." 
"O thou whose might is never failing," said Brahma to Kakutstha 
the foremost of those who thoroughly know Brahma, "Thou art 
Narayana, 1162 almighty, possessed of fortune, and armed with 
the discus. Thou art the boar 1163 with one tusk; the conqueror 
of thy past and future foes. Thou art Brahma true and eternal or 
undecaying. Thou art Visvaksena, 1164 having four arms; Thou art 



1158 A class of eight gods. 

1159 A class of eleven gods called Rudras. 

1160 Named Viryavan. 



1161 



A class of divine devotees named Sadhyas. 



1163 The third incarnation of Vishnu, that bore the earth on his tusk. 



1164 



One whose armies are everywhere. 



1882 The Ramay ana 

Hrishikesa, 1 whose bow is made of horn; Thou art Purusha, 
the best of all beings; Thou art one who is never defeated by 
any body; Thou art the holder of the sword (named Nandaka). 
Thou art Vishnu (the pervader of all); blue in colour: of great 
might; the commander of armies; and lord of villages. Thou 
art truth. Thou art embodied intelligence, forgiveness, control 
over the senses, creation, and destruction. Thou art Upendra 1167 
and Madhusudana. 1168 Thou art the creator of Indra, the ruler 
over all the world, Padmanabha, 1169 and destroyer of enemies 
in the battle. The divine Rishis call thee shelter of refugees, as 
well as the giver of shelter. Thou hast a thousand horns, 1170 a 
hundred heads. 1171 Thou art respected of the respected; and the 
lord and first creator of the three worlds. Thou art the forefather 
and shelter of Siddhas, 1172 and Sadhyas. 1173 Thou art sacrifices; 
Vashatkara, 1174 Ornkara. 1175 Thou art beyond those who are 
beyond our senses. There is none who knows who thou art and 
who knows thy beginning and end. Thou art seen in all material 
objects, in Brahmans, in cows, and also in all the quarters, sky 
and streams. Thou hast a thousand feet, a hundred heads, and 
a thousand eyes. Thou hast borne the material objects and the 
earth with the mountains; and at the bottom of the ocean thou 
art seen the great serpent. O Rama, Thou hast borne the three 



1166 He who resides in the heart, or who is full, or all-pervading. 

1167 Vamana, or the Dwarf incarnation of Vishnu. 

1168 The killer of Madhu, a demon. 

1169 He from whose navel, the lotus, from which Brahma was born, springs. 

1170 He who has a thousand horns. The horns are here the Sakhas of the 
Sama-veda. 

1171 One who has a hundred heads. The heads are here meant to devote a 
hundred commandments of the Vedas. 

1172 Siddhas are those who have already gained the summit of their desires. 

1173 Sadhyas are those that are still trying to gain the summit. 

1174 A mystic syllable uttered in Mantras. 

1175 A mystic syllable made of the letters which respectively denote Brahma, 
Vishnu, and Siva. 



Page 503. The Meeting. 1883 

worlds, gods, Gandharvas, 1176 and demons. I am, O Rama, thy 
heart; the goddess of learning is thy tongue; the gods are the hairs 
of thy body; the closing of thy eyelids is called the night: and 
their opening is called the day. The Vedas are thy Sanskaras. 1177 
Nothing can exist without thee. The whole world is thy body; the 
surface of the earth is thy stability." [560] 

O Srivatsalakshana, fire is thy anger, and the moon is thy 
favour. In the time of thy incarnation named Vamana, thou didst 
pervade the three worlds with thy three steps; and Mahendra was 
made the king of paradise by thee having confined the fearful 
Bali. 1178 Sita (thy wife) is Lakshmf; and thou art the God 
Vishnu, 1179 Krishna, 1180 and Prajapati. To kill Ravan thou hast 
assumed the form of a man; therefore, O best of the virtuous, 
thou hast completed this task imposed by us (gods). O Rama, 
Ravana has been killed by thee: now being joyful (i.e. having for 
some time reigned in the kingdom of Ayodhya,) go to paradise. 
O glorious Rama, thy power and thy valour are never failing. 
The visit to thee and the prayers made to thee are never fruitless. 
Thy devotees will never be unsuccessful. Thy devotees who 
obtain thee (thy favour) who art first and best of mankind, shall 
obtain their desires in this world as well as in the next. They 
who recite this prayer, founded on the Vedas (or first uttered by 
the sages), and the old and divine account of (Rama) shall never 
suffer defeat." 



Page 503. The Meeting. 

' A class of divine gods. 
Sanskaras are those sac 
and prohibitions are known. 



1177 Sanskaras are those sacred writings through which the divine commands 



1180 Krishna, (black coloured) one of the ten incarnations of Vishnu. 



1884 The Ramay ana 

The Bharat-Mildp or meeting with Bharat, is the closing scene 
of the dramatic representation of Rama's great victory and tri- 
umphant return which takes place annually in October in many 
of the cities of Northern India. The Ram-Lala or Play of Rama, 
as the great drama is called, is performed in the open air and lasts 
with one day's break through fifteen successive days. At Benares 
there are three nearly simultaneous performances, one provided 
by H. H. the Maharajah of Benares near his palace at Ramnaggur, 
one by H. H. the Maharajah of Vizianagram near the Missionary 
settlement at Sigra and at other places in the city, and one by 
the leading gentry of the city at Chowka Ghat near the College. 
The scene especially on the great day when the brothers meet is 
most interesting: the procession of elephants with their gorgeous 
howdahs of silver and gold and their magnificently dressed riders 
with priceless jewels sparkling in their turbans, the enthusiasm 
of the thousands of spectators who fill the streets and squares, 
the balconies and the housetops, the flowers that are rained down 
upon the advancing car, the wild music, the shouting and the joy, 
make an impression that is not easily forgotten. 

Still on his head, well trained in lore 
Of duty, Rama's shoes he bore. 

Rama's shoes are here regarded as the emblems of royalty 
or possession. We may compare the Hebrew "Over Edom will 
I cast forth my shoe." A curiously similar passage occurs in 
Lyschander's Chronicon Greenlandice Rhythmicon: 

"Han sendte til Irland sin skiden skoe, 
Og bod den Konge. Som der monne boe, 
Han skulde dem hsederlig bsere 
Pan Juuledag i sin kongelig Pragt, 
Og kjende han havde sit Rige og Magt 
Af Norges og Quernes Herre." 



Final Notes. 1885 



He sent to Ireland his dirty shoes, 

And commanded the king who lived there 

To wear them with honour 

On Christmas Day in his royal state, 

And to own that he had his kingdom and power 

From the Lord of Norway and the Isles. 

Notes & Queries, March 30, 1872. 



Final Notes. 

I end these notes with an extract which I translate from Signor 
Gorresio's Preface to the tenth volume of his Ramayan, and 
I take this opportunity of again thankfully acknowledging my 
great obligations to this eminent Sanskritist from whom I have 
so frequently borrowed. As Mr. Muir has observed, the Ben- 
gal recension which Signor Gorresio has most ably edited is 
throughout an admirable commentary on the genuine Ramayan 
of northern India, and I have made constant reference to the 
faithful and elegant translation which accompanies the text for 
assistance and confirmation in difficulties: 

"Towards the southern extremity and in the island of Lanka 
(Ceylon) there existed undoubtedly a black and ferocious race, 
averse to the Aryans and hostile to their mode of worship: their 
ramifications extended through the islands of the Archipelago, 
and some traces of them remain in Java to this day. 

The Sanskrit-Indians, applying to this race a name expressive 
of hatred which occurs in the Vedas as the name of hostile, 
savage and detested beings, called it the Rakshas race: it is 
against these Rakshases that the expedition of Rama which the 
Ramayan celebrates is directed. The Sanskrit-Indians certainly 



1886 The Ramayana 

altered in their traditions the real character of this race: they 
attributed to it physical and moral qualities not found in human 
nature; they transformed it into a race of giants; they represent- 
ed it as monstrous, hideous, truculent, changing forms at will, 
blood-thirsty and ravenous, just as the Semites represented the 
races that opposed them as impious, horrible and of monstrous 
size. But notwithstanding these mythical exaggerations, which 
are partly due to the genius of the Aryans so prone to magnify 
everything without measure, the Ramayan in the course of its 
epic narration has still preserved and noted here and there some 
traits and peculiarities of the race which reveal its true character. 
It represents the Rakshases as black of hue, and compares them 
with black clouds and masses of black collyrium; it attributes to 
them curly woolly hair and thick lips, it depicts them as loaded 
with chains, collars and girdles of gold, and the other bright 
ornaments which their race has always loved, and in which the 
kindred races of the Soudan still delight. It describes them as 
worshippers of matter and force. They are hostile to the religion 
of the Aryans whose rites and sacrifices they disturb and ruin 
... Such is the Rakshas race as represented in the Ramayan; 
and the war of the Aryan Rama forms the subject of the epic, a 
subject certainly real and historical as far as regards its substance, 
but greatly exaggerated by the ancient myth. In Sanskrit-Indian 
tradition are found traces of another struggle of the Aryans with 
the Rakshas races, which preceded the war of Rama. According 
to some pauranic legends, Karttavirya, a descendant of the royal 
tribe of the Yadavas, contemporary with Parasurama and a little 
anterior to Rama, attacked Lanka and took Ravan prisoner. This 
well shows how ancient and how deeply rooted in the Aryan race 
[562] is the thought of this war which the Ramayan celebrates. 

"But," says an eminent Indianist 1181 whose learning I highly 
appreciate, "the Ramayan is an allegorical epic, and no precise 



1181 A. Weber, Akademische Vorlesungen, p. 181. 



Final Notes. 1887 

and historical value can be assigned to it. Sita signifies the 
furrow made by the plough, and under this symbolical aspect 
has already appeared honoured with worship in the hymns of 
the Rig-veda; Rama is the bearer of the plough (this assertion is 
entirely gratuitous); these two allegorical personages represented 
agriculture introduced to the southern regions of India by the 
race of the Kosalas from whom Rama was descended; the Rak- 
shases on whom he makes war are races of demons and giants 
who have little or nothing human about them; allegory therefore 
predominates in the poem, and the exact reality of an historical 
event must not be looked for in it." Such is Professor Weber's 
opinion. If he means to say that mythical fictions are mingled 
with real events, 

Forsan in alcun vero suo arco percuote, 

as Dante says, and I fully concede the point. The interweaving 
of the myth with the historical truth belongs to the essence, 
so to speak, of the primitive epopeia. If Sita is born, as the 
Ramayan feigns, from the furrow which King Janak opened 
when he ploughed the earth, not a whit more real is the origin 
of Helen and iEneas as related in Homer and Virgil, and if the 
characters in the Ramayan exceed human nature, and in a greater 
degree perhaps than is the case in analogous epics, this springs 
in part from the nature of the subject and still more from the 
symbol-loving genius of the orient. Still the characters of the 
Ramayan, although they exceed more or less the limits of human 
nature, act notwithstanding in the course of the poem, speak, feel, 
rejoice and grieve according to the natural impulse of human pas- 
sions. But if by saying that the Ramayan is an allegorical epic, 
it is meant that its fundamental subject is nothing but allegory, 
that the war of the Aryan Rama against the Rakshas race is an 
allegory, that the conquest of the southern region and of the 
island of Lanka is an allegory, I do not hesitate to answer that 
such a presumption cannot be admitted and that the thing is in 



1888 The Ramay ana 

my opinion impossible. Father Paohno da S. Bartolommeo, 
had already, together with other strange opinions of his own on 
Indian matters, brought forward a similar idea, that is to say 
that the exploit of Rama which is the subject of the Ramayan 
was a symbol and represented the course of the sun: thus he 
imagined that Brahma was the earth, Vishnu the water, and that 
his avatars were the blessings brought by the fertilizing waters, 
etc. But such ideas, born at a time when Indo-sanskrit antiquities 
were enveloped in darkness, have been dissipated by the light 
of new studies. How could an epic so dear in India to the 
memory of the people, so deeply rooted for many centuries in the 
minds of all, so propagated and diffused through all the dialects 
and languages of those regions, which had become the source 
of many dramas which are still represented in India, which is 
itself represented every year with such magnificence and to such 
crowds of people in the neighbourhood of Ayodhya, a poem 
welcomed at its very birth with such favour, as the legend relates, 
that the recitation of it by the first wandering Rhapsodists has 
[563] consecrated and made famous all the places celebrated by them, 

and where Rama made a shorter or longer stay, how, I ask, 
could such an epic have been purely allegorical? How, upon a 
pure invention, upon a simple allegory, could a poem have been 
composed of about fifty thousand verses, relating with such force 
and power the events, and giving details with such exactness? 
On a theme purely allegorical there may easily be composed a 
short mythical poem, as for example a poem on Proserpine or 
Psyche: but never an epic so full of traditions and historical 
memories, so intimately connected with the life of the people, as 
the Ramayan. 1183 Excessive readiness to find allegory whenever 
some traces of symbolism occur, where the myth partly veils 



Systema brahmanicum, liturgicum, mythologicum, civile, exmonumentis 
Indicis, etc. 

1183 Not only have the races of India translated or epitomized it, but foreign 
nations have appropriated it wholly or in part, Persia, Java, and Japan itself. 



Final Notes. 1889 

the historical reality, may lead and often has led to error. What 
poetical work of mythical times could stand this mode of trial? 
could there not be made, or rather has there not been made a 
work altogether allegorical, out of the Homeric poems? We have 
all heard of the ingenious idea of the anonymous writer, who in 
order to prove how easily we may pass beyond the truth in our 
wish to seek and find allegory everywhere, undertook with keen 
subtlety to prove that the great personality of Napoleon I. was 
altogether allegorical and represented the sun. Napoleon was 
born in an island, his course was from west to east, his twelve 
marshals were the twelve signs of the zodiac, etc. 

I conclude then, that the fundamental theme of the Ramayan, 
that is to say the war of the Aryan Rama against the Rakshases, 
an Hamitic race settled in the south, ought to be regarded as real 
and historical as far as regards its substance, although the mythic 
element intermingled with the true sometimes alters its natural 
and genuine aspect. 

How then did the Indo-Sanskrit epopeia form and complete it- 
self? What elements did it interweave in its progress? How did it 
embody, how did it clothe the naked and simple primitive datum? 
We must first of all remember that the Indo-European races pos- 
sessed the epic genius in the highest degree, and that they alone 
in the different regions they occupied produced epic poetry . . . 
But other causes and particular influences combined to nourish 
and develop the epic germ of the Sanskrit-Indians. Already in the 
Rig-veda are found hymns in which the Aryan genius preluded, 
so to speak, to the future epopeia, in songs that celebrated the 
heroic deeds of Indra, the combats and the victories of the tutelary 
Gods of the Aryan races over enemies secret or open, human or 
superhuman, the exploits and the memories of ancient heroes. 
More recently, at certain solemn occasions, as the very learned A. 
Weber remarks, at the solemnity, for example of the Asvamedha 
or sacrifice of the horse, the praises of the king who ordained the 
great rite were sung by bards and minstrels in songs composed 



1890 The Ramayana 

for the purpose, the memories of past times were recalled and 
honourable mention was made of the just and pious kings of old. 
In the Brdhmanas, a sort of prose commentaries annexed to the 
Vedas, are found recorded stories and legends which allude to 
historical events of the past ages, to ancient memories, and to 
mythical events. Such popular legends which the Brdhmanas 
undoubtedly gathered from tradition admirably suited the epic 
tissue with which they were interwoven by successive hands.... 
Many and various mythico-historical traditions, suitable for epic 
development, were diffused among the Aryan races, those for 
[564] example which are related in the four chapters containing the 

description of the earth, the Descent of the Ganges, etc. The 
epic genius however sometimes created beings of its own and 
gave body and life to ideal conceptions. Some of the persons 
in the Ramayan must be, in my opinion, either personifications 
of the forces of nature like those which are described with such 
vigour in the Shdhndmah, or if not exactly created, exaggerated 
beyond human proportions; others, vedic personages much more 
ancient than Rama, were introduced into the epic and woven into 
its narrations, to bring together men who lived in different and 
distant ages, as has been the case in times nearer to our own, in 
the epics, I mean, of the middle ages. 

In the introduction I have discussed the antiquity of the 
Ramayan; and by means of those critical and inductive proofs 
which are all that an antiquity without precise historical dates 
can furnish I have endeavoured to establish with all the certainty 
that the subject admitted, that the original composition of the 
Ramayan is to be assigned to about the twelfth century before 
the Christian era. Not that I believe that the epic then sprang 
to life in the form in which we now possess it; I think, and I 
have elsewhere expressed the opinion, that the poem during the 
course of its rhapsodical and oral propagation appropriated by 
way of episodes, traditions, legends and ancient myths.... But as 
far as regards the epic poem properly so called which celebrates 



Final Notes. 1891 

the expedition of Rama against the Rakshases I think that I have 
sufficiently shown that its origin and first appearance should be 
placed about the twelfth century B.C.; nor have I hitherto met 
with anything to oppose this chronological result, or to oblige me 
to rectify or reject it. ... But an eminent philologist already quoted, 
deeply versed in these studies, A. Weber, has expressed in some 
of his writings a totally different opinion; and the authority of his 
name, if not the number and cogency of his arguments, compels 
me to say something on the subject. From the fact or rather the 
assumption that Megasthenes 1184 who lived some time in India 
has made no mention either of the Mahabharat or the Ramayan 
Professor Weber argues that neither of these poems could have 
existed at that time; as regards the Ramayan, the unity of its 
composition, the chain that binds together its different parts, and 
its allegorical character, show it, says Professor Weber, to be 
much more recent than the age to which I have assigned it, near 
to our own era, and according to him, later than the Mahabharat. 
As for Megasthenes it should be observed, that he did not write 
a history of India, much less a literary history or anything at all 
resembling one, but a simple description, in great part physical, 
of India: whence, from his silence on literary matters to draw 
inferences regarding the history of Sanskrit literature would be 
the same thing as from the silence of a geologist with respect to 
the literature of a country whose valleys, mountains, and internal 
structure he is exploring, to conjecture that such and such a poem 
or history not mentioned by him did not exist at his time. We 
have only to look at the fragments of Megasthenes collected and 
published by Schwanbeck to see what was the nature and scope 
of his Indica.... But only a few fragments of Megasthenes are 
extant; and to pretend that they should be argument and proof 
enough to judge the antiquity of a poem is to press the laws 
of criticism too far. To Professor Weber's argument as to the 



1184 In the third century B.C. 



1 892 The Ramayana 

[565] more or less recent age of the Ramayan from the unity of its 

composition, I will make one sole reply, which is that if unity of 
composition were really a proof of a more recent age, it would 
be necessary to reduce by a thousand years at least the age of 
Homer and bring him down to the age of Augustus and Virgil; 
for certainly there is much more unity of composition, a greater 
accord and harmony of parts in the Iliad and the Odyssey than 
in the Ramayan. But in the fine arts perfection is no proof of 
a recent age: while the experience and the continuous labour of 
successive ages are necessary to extend and perfect the physical 
or natural sciences, art which is spontaneous in its nature can pro- 
duce and has produced in remote times works of such perfection 
as later ages have not been able to equal." 



[566] 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 

Abhijit, 24. 

Abhikala, 176. 

Abhira, 444. 

Abravanti, 374. 

Aditi, 31, 57, 58, 125, 201, 245, 246. 

Adityas, 246, 403. 

Agastya, 5, 9, 40, 132, 151, 239, 240, 242, 244, 262, 265, 
280, 375, 480, 491, 500. 

Agneya, 178. 

Agni, 28, 74, 109, 132, 240, 243, 276. 

Agnivarna, 82, 220. 

Agniketu, 433 note, 459. 

Ahalya, 60, 61,62. 

Ailadhana, 178. 

Air, 2, 28, 203. 

Airavat, 14, 110, 178, 246, 256, 267, 335, 399, 402, 415, 429, 
437, 472. 

Aja, 82, 220, 465. 

Ajas, 270, 271. 

Akampan, 265, 266, 468, 481. 

Aksha, 6, 420,469,471. 

Akurvati, 178. 

Alaka, 203 note. 

Alambusha, 59, 198, 199. 

Alarka, 104, 107. 

Amaravati, 13, 203 note, 286. 

Ambarisha, 72, 73, 74, 82, 220. 

Amurtarajas, 46. 

Anala, 455 note. 



1 894 The Ramayana 

Anala, 245, 246. 

Ananta, 373. 

Anaranya, 81,219, 470. 

Anasiiya, 9, 226, 227, 228. 

Andhak, 264. 

Andhras, 549. 

Anga, 38. 

Angad, 342, 348, 350, 352 ff., 363, 364 note, 367, 374, 379 
ff, 391, 402, 425 ff., 439, 442, 445, 448, 456, 458, 459, 475, 479 
ff, 505. 

Angas, 15, 18,19,21, 102. 

Angiras, 133, 245. 

Anjan, 14, 368, 369. 

Anjana, 392. 

Ansudhana, 179. 

Ansuman, 50, 53, 56, 82, 220. 

Anuhlada, 370. 

Aparparyat, 178. 

Apartala, 175. 

Apsarases, 57, 198, 199, 229, 378. 

Aptoryam, 24. 

Arishta, 424, 425. 

Arishtanemi, 49, 245, 392. 

Arjun, 86. 

Arjuna, 518. 

Arthasadhak, 14. 

Arun, 246, 

Arundhati, 19,244,413. 

Aryaman, 124. 

Aryan, 92. 

Asamanj, 50, 53, 82, 138, 220. 

Asit, 81,219. 

Asok, 14, 175. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1 895 

Asoka, 6, 10, 101, 205, 278, 296, 297, 300, 318, 321, 357, 
403, 444, 452, 456. 

Asta, 377, 379 note. 

Asurs, 57, 58, 380, 381, 387, 394, 407, 413, 420. 

Asvagriva, 246. 

Asvamedh, 29, 236 note. 

Asvapati, 89, 131,178,183. 

Asvatari, 346. 

Asvin, 371. 

Asvini, 343. 

Asvins, 28, 36, 60, 62, 163, 246, 339, 343, 403, 490. 

Atikaya, 468, 478 ff. 

Atiratra, 24. 

Atri, 245, 561. 

Aurva, 373 note. 

Avanti, 374. 

Avindhya, 415. 

Ayodhya, 4, 6, 11, 12, 14, 19, 32, 33, 38, 49, 70, 72, 79, 81, 
83, 84, 85, 88, 95, 96, passim. 

Ayomukh, 374. 

Ayomukhi, 310. [567] 

Bahfka, 176. 

Bahuputra, 245. 

Bala, 264. 

Balakhilyas, 63, 235, 270, 271, 374. 

Bali, 43, 59, 107, 275, 302, 421. 

Bali, 5, 9, 29, 318, 324, 328, 329, 333 ff., 344, 356 ff., 362, 
364, 366, 367, 379, 380, 391, 404, 412, 420, 440, 442, 448, 456, 
458,475,478,500,503,505. 

Barbars, 66. 

Beauty, 26, 29, 58, 88, 283, 455. 

Bhadamadra, 246. 

Bhadra, 52. 

Bhaga, 124, 243. 



1 896 The Ramayana 

Bhagfrath, 53, 54, 55, 82, 220, 372. 

Bhagirathi, 56. 

Bharadvaja, 4, 7, 9, 10, 158, 159, 193, 196, 197, 199, 200, 
201,501. 

Bharat, 4, 9, 10, 32, 81, 83, 84, 88, 89, 94, 91, passim. 

Bharatas, 550. 

Bharunda, 178. 

Bhasi, 246. 

Bhasakarna, 420. 

Bhava, 78. 

Bhima, 198. 

Bhogavati, 12 note, 267, 375. 

Bhrigu, 40, 63, 73, 81, 85, 86, 88, 133, 220. 

Brahma, 6, 7, 10, 19, 25, 26, 33, 38, 39, 42, 46, 48, 54, 56, 59, 
61, 63, 65, 67, 68, 74, 75, 77, 81, passim. 

Brahmadatta, 46, 47. 

Brahmadikas, 133 note. 

Bhrahmamalas, 548. 

Budha, 287. 

Buddhist, 219. 

Cancer, 109. 

Ceylon, 375 note. 

Chaitra, 91. 

Chaitraratha, 41, 178, 199, 267, 279, 315, 493. 

Chakravan, 376. 

Champa, 30. 

Chanda, 448. 

Chandala, 69, 70. 

Chandra, 464. 

Chatushtom, 24. 

Chitra, 111,250,283. 

Chitrakuta, 4, 9, 160, 161, 197, 200, 201, 202, 209, 235, 236, 
317,416,501. 

Chitraratha, 132. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1 897 

Cholas, 549. 

Chuli, 47. 

Chyavan, 81,220. 

Dadhimukh, 426. 

Dadhivakra, 364 note. 

Daitya, 125, 152, 211, 246, 289, 306, 371, 418. 

Daksha, 36, 78, 228, 245, 257, 396. 

Danav, 255, 270, 306, 307, 311, 371, 372, 382, 432, 443, 477. 

Dandak, 9, 99, 103, 117, 124, 126, 130, 166, 181, 199, 211, 
238,271,374. 

Dandaka, 5. 

Danu, 245, 246, 313. 

Dapple skin, 64, 65. 

Dardar, 110, 198. 

Dardur, 448. 

Darimukha, 37 1 . 

Dasarna, 374. 

Dasaratha, 3, 9, 12, 14, 16, 18 ff., 25, 26, 29, 30, 32, 34, 41, 
61, 62, 77, 79, 80 ff., 91, 92, 95, passim. 

Dasyus, 444. 

Devamidha, 82. 

Devantak, 479, 480. 

Devarat, 77, 82, 86. 

Devasakha, 378. 

Devavati, 515. 

Dhanvantari, 57 note. 

Dhanyamalini, 481. 

Dharmabhrit, 240. 

Dharmapal, 14. 

Dharmaranya, 46. 

Dharmavardhan, 179. 

Dhritarashtri, 246. [568] 

Dhrishtaketu, 82. 

Dhrishti, 14, 202. 



1 898 The Ramayana 

Dhruvasandhi, 81, 219. 

Dhumra, 371,448. 

Dhumraksha, 433 note, 465, 466. 

Dhumrasva, 60, 481. 

Dhundhumar, 81, 171,219. 

Diksha, 44. 

Dilipa, 5 note, 53, 54, 56, 82, 171, 190, 220. 

Diti, 58, 59, 245, 246, 323. 

Dragon, 101. 

Dridhanetra, 68. 

Drishti, 202. 

Drona, 464. 

Drumakulya, 444. 

Dundubhi, 333, 335, 338. 

Durdhar, 420. 

Durdharsha, 433 note. 

Durjaya, 256 note. 

Durmukha, 432, 433 note. 

Durvasas, 521. 

Dushan, 5, 250, 254, 255, 256, 258, 259, 261, 264, 265, 
267-271,294,461,502. 

Dwida, 364 note. 

Dwijihva, 474. 

Dwivid, 371, 428, 430, 449, 451, 475, 483, 484. 

Dwivida, 28. 

Dyumatsena, 129. 

Ekapadakas, 549. 

Ekasala, 179. 

Fame, 26, 283. 

Fate, 42, 68, 70, 71, 81, 119, 122, 123, 130, 181, 182, 195, 
256, 293, 296, 309, 343, 349, 351, 354, 386, 404, 415, 439, 492. 

Fire, 2, 30, 45, 49, 218, 374. 

Fortune, 2, 58, 90, 94, 124, 146, 160, 188, 242, 244, 283, 449, 
453. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1 899 

Fire-god, 74, 124, 328. 

Gadhi, 40, 48, 63, 64, 67, 68. 

Gaja, 364 note, 371, 429, 449, 459. 

Galava, 518. 

Gandhamadan, 28, 159, 381, 429, 446, 476. 

Gandharva, 199, 256, 258, 259, 278, 285, 351, 396, 425, 437, 
441,454,466,468,491. 

Gandharvas, 267, 270, 281, 283, 306, 307, 308, 318, 364, 
370, 375, 377, 388, 394, 409, 420, 432, 449, 455, 472. 

Gandharvi, 246, 265. 

Ganga, 7, 9, 37, 38, 45, 48, 49, passim. 

Garga, 133. 

Garud, 28, 29, 53, 246, 271, 373, 453, 465, 470, 475. 

Gautam, 60, 61, 62, 505. 

Gautama, 236. 

Gavaksha, 364 note, 429, 449, 468, 475, 476. 

Gavaya, 364 note, 371, 429, 448, 468. 

Gaya, 482. 

Gaya, 216. 

Gayatri, 243. 

Ghoralohamukhas, 548. 

Ghritachi, 46, 198, 367. 

Girivraja, 46, 176. 

Glory, 301. 

Godavari, 245, 247, 248, 249, 282, 303, 310, 374, 500. 

Gokarna, 54. 

Golabh, 351. 

Gomati, 151, 179, 448, 502, 503. 

Gopa, 199. 

Guha, 4, 9, 152-156, 162, 192, 193, 194, 208, 501. 

Guhyakas, 378. 

Haha, 198. 

Haihayas, 81,219. 



1900 The Ramayana 

Haniiman, 5, 9, 10, 28, 324 ff., 328, 332, 337, 340, 350, 355, 
359, 360, 363, 364 note, 368, 371, 374, 378 ff., 392 ff., 411 ff., 
424 ff., 449, 456. 

Hara, 448. 

Han, 246. 

Harftas, 66. 

Haryasva, 82. 

Hastinapura, 176. 
[569] Hastiprishthak, 179. 

Havishyand, 68. 

Hayagriva, 346, 376. 

Hema, 198, 382. 

Hemachandra, 60. 

Heti, 515. 

Himalaya, 3, 14, 45, 48, 49, 50, 53, 54, 61, 67, 76, 81, 88. 

Himavau, 380. 

Hiranyakasipu, 391 note, 407. 

Hiranyanabha, 500. 

Hladini, 55, 178. 

Honour, 283. 

Hotri, 24. 

Hrasvaroma, 82. 

Huhu, 198. 

Ikshumati, 80, 176. 

Ikshvaku, 2, 11, 13, 18, 24, 25, 35, 59, 60, 69, 70, 71, 73, 81, 
82, 83, 90, 94, 96, 103, 219, 390. 

Ilval, 241. 

Indra, 2, 5, 13, 14, 25, 28, 29, 36, 39, 40, 43 ff., 50, 56, 
passim. 

Indrajanu, 371 note. 

Indrajit, 420, 432, 436, 437, 441, 455, 459 ff., 482, 485. 

Indrasatru, 433 note. 

Indrasira, 178. 

Iravati, 246. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 190 1 

Jabali, 505. 

Jahnu, 55. 

Jahnavi, 49, 55, 154. 

Jamadagni, 85, 86, 87, 119. 

Jambavan, 371, 374, 388, 391, 393, 402, 425, 428, 429, 439, 
446, 448, 456, 464, 483, 503. 

Jambudvip, 51, 373. 

Jambumali, 418, 419, 420, 459, 460. 

Jambuprastha, 179. 

Jambuvatu, 364 note. 

Janak, 4, 8, 9, 21, 45, 60, 61, 62, 77-85, 88, 090, passim. 

Janamejaya, 171. 

Janasthan, 225, 251, 254, 255, 264, 265, 271, 281, 282, 294, 
295, 298, 308, 404, 439, 454, 463, 474, 493, 500. 

Jatarupa, 373. 

Jatayu, 5. 

Jatayus, 245, 247, 280, 288, 290, 308, 385 ff., 500, 502. 

Java, 231. 

Javali, 20, 80, 174, 217, 218, 219, 222. 

Jaya, 36. 

Jayanta, 14, 175. 

Jumna, 109,501,502. 

Jupiter, 144. 

Justice, 3, 35, 42, 149, 243, 346, 454. 

Jyotishtom, 24. 

Kabandha, 5, 9, 310-316, 446, 500. 

Kadru, 246. 

Kadruma, 246. 

Kaikasi, 516. 

Kaikeyi, 3, 4, 9, 27, 32, 88, 96-103, passim. 

Kailasa, 38, 85, 92, 96, 110, 111, 267, 286, 357, 364, 368, 
369,373,378,421,431. 

Kakustha, 35, 37, 82, 109, 110, 123, 137, 142, 147, 149, 151, 
153,192,208,211,220,311. 



1902 The Ramayana 

Kala, 378. 
Kalak, 246. 
Kalaka, 245, 246. 
Kalakamuka, 256 note. 
Kalamahi, 372. 
Kalinda, 178. 
Kalindi, 81,160,220. 
Kalinga, 179. 
Kalingas, 549, 
Kalmashapada, 82, 220. 
Kama 37, 38, 42, 283, 286, 296. 
[570] Kamboja, 13, 66. 

Kambojas, 66. 
Kampili, 47 
Kandu, 118, 380, 440. 
Kandarpa, 37, 74, 75, 76, 250, 269. 
Kanva, 440. 
Kanyakubja, 47. 
Kapil, 51,52, 53. 
Kapivati, 179. 
Kardam, 245. 
Karnapravaranas, 548. 
Kartikeya, 243. 
Karttavirya, 518. 
Kasi, 21, 102. 
Kasfkosalas, 548. 

Kasyap, 15, 16, 20, 30, 57-59, 80, 81, 86, 87, 91, 92, 118, 
219, 215, passim. 
Katyayan, 505. 
Katyayana, 80, 174. 

Kausalya, 3, 23, 27, 30, 31, 79, 84, 88, 93, 94, 97, 98, 100, 
passim. 

Kausambi, 46. 
Kausikas, 549. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1903 

Kausiki, 48, 372. 

Kaveri, 375. 

Kaustubha, 58. 

Kavya, 40. 

Kekaya, 21, 84, 88, 90, 137, 139, 174, 175. 

Kerala, 190. 

Keralas, 549. 

Kesari, 371. 

Kesini, 49, 50. 

Khara, 9, 225, 250 ff., 281, 288, 290, 294, 295, 433, 446, 451, 
461,477,493. 

Kinnars, 270, 306, 308, 318, 321, 373, 425. 

Kimpurushas, 28 note. 

Kiratas, 66, 549. 

Kirtirat, 82. 

Kirtiratha, 82. 

Kishkindha, 5, 333, 334, 336, 338, 339, 351, 357, 362, 369, 
385, 449, 464, 500. 

Kosal, 11, 102, 273, 307, 359, 418. 

Kosala, 151, 173. 

Krathan, 448. 

Kratu, 245. 

Krauncha, 310, 378,476. 

Kraunchi, 246. 

Krisasva, 36, 41, 43. 

Krishna, 497. 

Krishnagiri, 448. 

Krishnveni, 374. 

Krita, 57, 395. 

Krodhavasa, 245, 246. 

Kshatriyas, 246, 346. 

Kukshi, 81,219. 

Kulinga, 176. 

Kumbha, 484. 



1904 The Ramayana 

Kumbhakarna, 10, 250, 399, 411, 435 ff., 441, 470 ff. 

Kumuda, 364 note, 448. 

Kunjar, 375, 392. 

Kuru(s), North, 198, 203, 315. 

Kurujangal, 176. 

Kusa, 10,46,48,63,526. 

Kusadhwaj, 80, 82, 88. 

Kusamba, 46. 

Kusanabha, 46, 47, 48, 63. 

Kusasva, 60. 

Kusik, 33, 35, 36, 38, 44, 56, 62, 63, 68, 70 ff., 83. 

Kutfka, 179. 

Kutikoshtika, 179. 

Kuvera, 23, 88, 109, 110, 111, 112, 198, 199, 204, 232, 267, 
378,422,431,432,483. 

Lakshman, 4, 8, 11, 32, 36, 38, 40, 41, 44, 45, 56, 61, 79, 80, 
82-84, 88, 91, 94, 97, 98, passim. 

Lakshmi, 88, 116, 146, 227, 400, 453, 462, 497. 

Lamba, 397. 

Lanka, 5, 10, 265, 267, 284, 286, 293, 295-297, 367, 387, 
397, 411, 423 ff., 439, 456 ff. 

Lankatankata, 515. 

Lava, 10, 526. 

Lohitya, 179. 

Lokapalas, 485. 
[571] Lomapad, 15, 16, 18, 19, 21, 30. 

Madhavi, 520. 

Madhu, 26, 51,57, 87,95. 

Madhuka, 245. 

Madhushyand, 68, 74. 

Madrakas, 550. 

Magadh, 46, 102. 

Magadnas, 548. 

Magha, 83. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1905 

Mahabir, 82. 

Mahabala, 433 note. 

Mahabharat, 520, 524, 551, 554. 

Mahadeva, 61, 515. 

Mahakapala, 256 note, 260. 

Mahamali, 256 note. 

Mahandhrak, 82. 

Mahapadma, 14, 52. 

Mahaparasva, 433, 436, 455, 478, 480, 487. 

Maharath, 68. 

Maharoma, 82. 

Maharun, 368. 

Mahasaila, 368. 

Mahendra, 28, 59, 86, 87, 88, 140, 167, 213, 243, 244, 307, 
336, 344, 364, 368, 370, 375, 490, 531, 554. 

Maheswar, 369, 498. 

Mahi, 372. 

Mahishmati, 518. 

Mahishikas, 549. 

Mahodar, 433 note, 450, 455, 474, 478 ff. 

Mahodaya, 46, 70, 71,488. 

Mainaka, 10, 394, 500 note. 

Mainda, 28, 364 note, 371, 428, 430, 439, 449, 451, 458, 482, 
483. 

Makaraksha, 485 note. 

Malaja, 39. 

Malavas, 548. 

Malaya, 198, 324, 328, 375, 379, 430. 

Mali, 515, 516. 

Malini, 175, 539. 

Malyavan, 454, 455. 

Malyavat, 515, 516. 

Manas, 38. 

Mandakarni, 240. 



1906 The Ramayana 

Mandakim, 200, 201, 203, 209, 234, 235, 304, 322, 416 note. 

Mandali, 556. 

Mandar, 57, 163, 285, 362, 368, 372, 399, 402, 421, 485, 491, 
493, 525. 

Mandari, 444. 

Mandhata, 81,219, 347, 518. 

Mandavi, 84. 

Mandavya, 226 note. 

Mandehas, 373. 

Mandodari, 402, 492, 500, 516. 

Mandra, 14. 

Manibhadra, 441. 

Manthara, 40, 96, 97, 99, 187. 

Manu, 11, 12, 13,81,103, 151, 179,219,245,246,347,490, 
505, 537, 555. 

Maricha, 58. 

Maricha, 5, 9, 35, 39, 40, 44, 266, 271-280, 298. 

Marichi, 81,91,219, 245. 

Marichipas, 270, 271. 

Markandeya, 80, 174. 

Mars, 93, 144, 339, 404, 445, 467, 489. 

Maru, 82, 220. 

Maruts, 25, 54, 59, 403, 517, 547, 555. 

Mashas, 270, 271. 

Matali, 109, 142, 489, 491, 493. 

Matanga, 14, 246, 315, 316, 317, 318, 319, 336, 337, 380. 

Matangi, 246. 

Matarisva, 389. 

Matsya, 102, 523, 537, 549. 

Maya, 293, 382, 432, 488. 

Maya, 293, 521. 

Mayavi, 333, 334, 379. 

Meghamali, 256 note. 

Meghanada, 10. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1907 

Mekhal, 374. 

Mena, 49, 394 note. 

Menaka, 74. 

Mercury, 144, 339, 467. 

Mem, 4, 49, 92, 109, 110, 142, 182, 232, 236, 254, 291, 315, 
368,370,377,380,418,493. 

Merusavarni, 382. 

Mina, 32. 

Misrakesi, 199. 

Mithi, 82. 

Mithila, 9 note, 21, 45, 60, 61, 78, 81, 83, 84, 85. 

Mitraghna, 459. [572] 

Mlechchhas, 66, 537, 550. 

Modesty, 26. 

Moon, 30, 42, 58, 109 ff., 124, 218, 227, 243, 276, 367, 413, 
414,488. 

Mriga, 14. 

Mrigamanda, 246. 

Mrigi, 246. 

Mudgalya, 174. 

Nabhag, 82, 220. 

Nagadanta, 198. 

Nagas, 12, 55, 66, 68, 145, 270, 273, 395, 409, 413, 420, 427, 
518. 

Nahush, 82, 95, 171, 190, 220, 307. 

Nairrit, 430. 

Nala, 10, 340, 364 note, 428, 444, 445, 448, 449, 468, 475, 
483. 

Nala, 246. 

Nalini, 55, 203, 204, 267, 436. 

Namuchi, 39, 261, 264, 275, 336. 

Nanda, 415. 

Nandan, 26, 175, 200, 267, 279, 315, 316, 426. 

Nandi, 249,421. 



1908 The Ramayana 

Nandigrama, 4, 6, 9, 224, 502, 503. 
Nandis vara, 47 1 . 
Nandivardhan, 82. 
Narad, 1,2,8,9, 124, 199,543. 
Narak, 479. 
Narantak, 479. 

Narayan, 25, 26, 95, 393, 474, 497, 516, 517, 522, 535, 559. 
Narmada, 374,448, 518. 
Nikumbha, 432, 433 note, 437, 459, 484. 
Nila, 28, 340, 352, 360, 364 note, 371, 374, 428, 429, 430, 
446, 448, 449, 456, 458, 459, 469, 472, 475, 482. 
Nimi, 77, 82. 
Nisakar, 389, 390. 

Nishadas, 4, 152, 192, 196, 271, 501, 537. 
Ocean, 10, 95, 144, 285, 286, 336, 346, 387. 
Oshthakarnakas, 548. 
Pahlavas, 66. 
Paka, 252, 297, 498. 
Pampa, 5, 9, 235, 293, 314-321, 327. 
Panas, 371,428, 448, 464. 
Panasa, 455 note. 
Panchajan, 376. 
Panchala, 176, 539. 
Panchapsaras, 240. 
Panchavata, 9. 
Panchavati, 244, 245, 247. 
Pandyas, 375, 549. 
Parasara, 517. 

Parasurama, 119 note, 523, 531. 
Paraviraksha, 256 note. 
Pariyatra, 376, 448. 
Parjanya, 112, 174,261,448. 
Parvati, 249 note, 515, 542. 
Paulastya, 472. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1909 

Paulomi, 29, 370. 
Pavani, 55. 
Phalguni, 83. 
Pinaka, 67. 
Pitris, 550. 
Prabhava, 363. 
Prachetas, 1,245. 
Praghas, 420, 459, 460. 
Pragvat, 179. 

Prahasta, 399, 418, 419, 421, 422, 432 ff., 441, 451, 452, 455, 
456,471,481. 
Praheti, 515. 
Prahlada, 391. 
Prajangha, 459, 460. 
Prajapati, 133 note, 554, 560. 
Pralamba, 175. 
Pramatha, 256 note. 
Pramathi, 260, 448. 
Pramati, 455 note. 
Prasenajit, 81,219. 

Prasravan, 304, 357, 380, 383, 415, 426. 
Prasthalas, 550. 
Prasussruka, 82, 220. 
Pratindhak, 82. 
Pravargya, 22. 

Prayag, 158, 159, 196. [573] 

Prithu, 81,219. 
Prithusyama, 256 note. 
Proshthapada, 32. 
Pulah, 245. 

Pulastya, 35, 245, 254, 268, 288, 408, 515. 
Pulindas, 550. 
Puloma, 370. 
Punarvasu, 93. 



1910 The Ramayana 

Pundarfka, 199. 
Pundras, 548, 549. 
Punjikasthala, 436, 552. 
Puranda, 522. 
Purandara, 384, 522. 
Puriiravas, 286, 544, 545. 
Purusha, 256 note, 559. 
Purushadak, 82, 220. 
Purushottam, 498, 517. 
Pusha, 124. 

Pushpak, 10, 80, 286, 499, 519. 
Pushya, 32, 90, 92, 94, 96, 98, 109, 126. 
Rabhasa, 433 note. 
Raghava, 5 note. 

Raghu, 5, 9, 22, 32 ff., 50, 56, 61, passim. 
Raghunandana, 522. 
Rahu, 93, 223, 261, 272, 303, 351, 480. 
Rain, Lord of, 92, 222. 
Rajagriha, 174, 175. 
Rama, passim. 

Ramayana, 8 note, 10, 11, 541, 542. 
Rambha, 75, 232, 448. 
Ramana, 199. 
Rasmiketu, 433 note, 459. 
Ravan, 5, 9, 10, 25, 26, 32, 35, passim. 
Renuka, 63, 119. 
Richfka, 48, 73, 86. 
Right, 42, 68. 
Riksharajas, 386, 442. 
Rikshavan, 448. 

Rishabh, 373, 375, 429, 446, 476, 483. 
Rishtikas, 549. 

Rishyamiika, 9, 314, 315, 316, 318 ff., 332, 335, 339, 340, 
353, 380, 500. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 191 1 

Rishyasring, 15-24, 29, 30. 

Rohini, 4, 112, 223, 227, 246, 251, 282, 287, 367, 404, 413, 
445. 

Rohitas, 376, 558. 

Rudhirasana, 256 note. 

Rudra, 49, 57, 67, 77, 78, 162, 249, 257, 264, 283, 296, 378, 
413,483. 

Rudras, 246, 558. 

Rukmini, 517. 

Ruma, 346, 349, 350, 363, 366, 367, 371, 385, 403. 

Ruman, 371. 

Sachi, 29, 202, 234, 238, 276, 286, 297, 370, 408, 415, 494, 
519,522. 

Sadhyas, 490, 555, 558, 559. 

Sagar, 11,50 ff., 82, 119, 137, 171,441. 

Sahadeva, 60. 

Sahya, 429, 430. 

Saivya, 104, 107, 171,533. 

Sakas, 66, 550. 

Sakra, 75, 234, 307, 313, 336, 344, 448, 464. 

Salmali, 176, 539. 

Salyakartan, 178. 

Saman, 186, 326, 359. 

Sambar, 479. 

Sambara, 99, 100. 

Sampati, 5, 9, 246, 364 note, 385, 387 ff., 412, 455 note, 459, 
460, 464. 

Samprakshalas, 235. 

Sanatkumar, 15, 16. 

Sandhya, 515. 

Sanharas, 36. 

Sanhrada, 474. 

Sanischar, 283. 

Sankan, 82. 



1912 The Ramayana 

Sankar, 57, 335. 
Sankaiya, 80, 81, 82, 83. 
Sankha, 555. 
Sankhan, 220, 432. 
Sanrochan, 448. 
Sansray, 245. 
Santa, 16,19,29,30,31. 
Sarabh, 364 note, 439, 476. 
Sarabhanga, 9, 233, 234, 235, 236, 265, 502. 
Saradanda, 176, 539. 
Sarama, 452, 453. 
Saran, 446, 447, 455. 
Sarandib, 375 note. 
Saranga, 556. 

Sarasvati, 178, 372, 516, 522. 
Sardula, 441,449, 450. 
[574] Sarduli, 246. 

Sarjii, 11, 20, 22, 36, 37, 38, 50, passim. 

Sarvabhauma, 429. 

Sarvartirtha, 179. 

Sasivindhus, 81, 219. 

Satabali, 371,377, 379, 380. 

Satadru, 178, 539. 

Satahrada, 231. 

Satananda, 62, 63, 77, 79, 80, 81, 84. 

Satrughna, 32, 83, 84, 88, 89, 97, passim. 

Satrunjay, 504. 

Satyavan, 129. 

Satyavati, 48. 

Savitri, 129, 227. 

Savari, 315, 316, 317. 

Saumanas, 373. 

Savarni, 377. 

Seven Rishis, 23. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1913 

Sesha, 245. 

Siddharth, 14, 137, 138, 175. 
Siddhas, 28 note, 540, 559. 
Sighraga, 82, 220. 
Sila, 178. 
Silavaha, 178. 

Sindhu, 13, 21, 55, 102, 372, 376, 443. 
Sinhika, 10, 396. 
Sisir(a), 372, 555. 

Sita, 4 ff., 55, 78, 79, 83, 84, 88, 93, passim. 
Siva, 4, 36, 42, 54, 55, 57, 67, 78, 82, 85, 86, 109, 110, 205, 
523, 524, 543, 554. 
Skanda, 554. 

Soma, 52, 58, 198, 267, 378, 554. 
Somadatta, 60. 
Somada, 47. 
Somagiri, 376, 378. 
Sona, 45, 48, 372. 

Sringavera, 4, 192, 196, 223, 501, 502. 
Srinjay, 60. 
Srutakirti, 84. 
Sthanu, 25, 37, 245. 
Sthanumati, 179. 
Sthulaksha, 256 note, 260. 
Sthiilasiras, 313. 
Subahu, 364 note. 
Suchakshu, 55. 
Suchandra, 60. 
Suchi, 238. 
Sudama, 178. 
Sudaman, 81, 176. 

Sudarsan, 82, 83, 220, 373, 378, 448. 
Sudarsandwip, 374. 
Sudhanva, 82. 



1914 The Ramayana 

Sudhriti, 82. 

Sudras, 6, 13, 246. 

Sugriva, 5, 6, 9, 28, 29, 314, 316, 318, 324 ff., 337, 339, 344, 
346 ff., 371, 375 ff., 412, 414, 422, 424, 430, 439 ff., 446, 450, 
519,545. 

Suka, 442, 446, 447, 455 ff. 

Sukesa,515,516. 

Suketu, 39, 82. 

Suki, 246. 

Sukra, 124, 210, 279, 384, 429. 

Sumali, 515, 516. 

Sumagadhi, 46. 

Sumantra, 15, 16, 19, 21, 80, 92, passim. 

Sumati, 49, 50, 59, 60. 

Sumitra, 27, 30, 32, 88, 94, passim. 

Sun, 93, 109, 110, 124,243. 

Sunabha, 425. 

Sunahsepha, 72, 73, 74 

Sunda, 35, 39. 

Sunetra, 364 note. 

Suparna, 53, 125, 231, 343, 349, 388. 

Suparsva, 388. 

Supatala, 364 note. 

Suptaghna, 433 note. 

Sura, 58. 

Surabhi, 183,246. 

Surapati, 522. 

Suras, 58. 

Surasa, 246, 395. 

Surashtra, 21, 102,376. 

Siirasenas, 550. 

Surpanakha, 5, 9, 249 ff., 267 ff., 288, 502. 

Siirya, 555. 

Siiryaksha, 364 note. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1915 

Siiryasatru, 433 note. 
Suryavan, 375. 
Susandhi, 81,219. 

Sushen, 28, 351, 364 note, 376, 379, 380. 
Sutanu, 199. 

Sutfkshna, 9, 234, 236, 237, 240, 241. [575] 

Suvahu, 35, 44, 45, 146. 
Suvarat, 220. 
Suvela, 450, 456, 457. 
Suvira, 21, 102. 
Suyajna, 20, 132. 
Svayambhu, 394. 
Svayamprabha, 382. 
Svetaranya, 264. 
Swarga, 54, 101,202,493. 
Swarnaroma, 82. 
Sweta, 448. 
Syama, 160. 
Syandika, 151. 
Syenagami, 256 note, 260. 
Syeni, 246. 

Tadaka, 38, 39, 40, 41. 
Tadakeya, 266. 
Taittiriya, 132. 
Takshak, 432. 
Takshaka, 267. 
Talajanghas, 81, 219. 
Tamasa, 7, 147, 148, 149. 
Tamra, 245, 246. 
Tamraparni, 375. 
Tapan, 459, 555. 
Tara, 364 note, 379 ff. 

Tara, 9, 336, 349 ff., 355, 359, 362, 363, 366, 367, 369, 371, 
385, 403, 449, 546. 



1916 The Ramayana 

Tarak, 430. 

Tarkshya, 214. 

Ten-necked, 250. 

Thirty-three Gods, 51. 

Thousand-eyed, 41, 59, 60, 74, 75, 76, 86, 90, 112, 252, 297, 
504. 

Three-eyed God, 86. 

Thunderer, 234. 

Titan, 58, 67, 72, 79, 109, 114, 124. 

Toran, 179. 

Town-Destroyer, 59, 60. 

Trident, 68. 

Trident- wielding, 54, 57. 

Trijat, 133. 

Trijata, 410, 463. 

Trikiita, 456, 457,500,515. 

Trinavindu, 515. 

Tripathaga, 56. 

Tripur, 306. 

Tripura, 85, 86. 

Trisanku, 68-72, 81, 144, 219, 429. 

Trisira, 9. 

Trisiras, 256 note, 260, 261, 264, 267, 271, 478, 479, 480, 
502. 

Tumburu, 198, 199, 232. 

Uchchaihsravas, 58, 522. 

Udayagiri, 379 note. 

Udavasu, 82. 

Ujjihana, 179. 

Ukthya, 24. 

Uma, 49, 54, 205, 249 note, 471, 542, 543. 

Upasad, 22. 

Upasunda, 35. 

Upendra, 74, 559. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1917 

Urmila, 47, 83, 84, 88, 228. 
Urvasi, 286, 544, 545. 
Usanas, 382. 
Utkal, 374. 
Uttanika, 179, 539. 
Vahli, 13. 
Vahlfka, 376. 
Vahni, 555. 
Vaidyut, 375. 
Vaijayanta, 99, 179, 522. 
Vaikhanasas, 270, 271, 374. 
Vainateya, 388. 

Vaisravan, 265, 285, 378, 414, 515. 
Vaisyas, 246. 
Vaitarani, 293. 
Vajra, 376. 

Vajradanshtra, 432, 433 note, 466, 467. 
Valmfki, 1, 7-11, 161, 519, 542. 
Vamadeva, 14, 79, 80, 91, 174, 222, 505. 
Vamana, 14, 523. 
Vana, 81,219. 
Vanayu, 13. 

Vangas, 102. [576] 

Varadas, 550. 

Varun, 1 note, 28, 42, 67, 88, 109, 124, 228, 243, 272, 293, 
338,377,383,448,471,518. 
Varasya, 256 note. 
Varutha, 179. 
Vasav, 92. 
Vasava, 236, 522. 

Vasishtha, 14, 15, 19-22, 25, 32, passim. 
Vasudeva, 51, 52. 

Vasuki, 57, 267, 375, 432, 518, 522. 
Vasus, 14, 46, 246, 283, 377, 403, 522, 554. 



1918 The Ramayana 

Vasvaukasara, 203. 
Vatapi, 241,280. 

Vayu, 59, 243, 369, 427, 428, 555. 

Vedas, 1 note, 3, 12, 22, 70, 89, 109, 125, 147, 184, 229, 559. 
Vedasruti, 151. 
Vedavati, 470, 517. 
Vegadarsi, 429, 446, 483. 
Vena, 448, 537. 
Vibhandak, 15, 16, 17, 18,25. 

Vibhishan, 6, 10, 250, 273, 415, 422, 423, 433 ff., 449 ff., 
472, 483, 487 ff., 516. 
Vibudh, 82. 
Vidarbha, 46, 49. 
Vidarbhas, 549. 

Videha, 79 ff., 129, 130, 142, 166, 195, 227. 
Videhan, 9, 79, 95, 104, 119, 125, passim. 
Videhas, 548. 
Vidyadhari, 203 note. 
Vidyujjihva, 450. 
Vidyunmali, 364 note. 
Vidyutkesa, 515. 
Vihangama, 256 note. 
Vijay, 14, 36, 175, 505. 
Vikata, 409. 
Vikrit, 245. 
Vikukshi, 81,219. 
Vinata, 179, 379, 380, 388, 448. 
Vinata, 53, 125, 246. 
Vindhya, 14, 51, 242, 364, 370, 374, 380. 
Vindu, 55. 
Vipasa, 176, 539. 
Virabahu, 364 note. 
Viradha, 5, 9, 229, 232, 404, 446, 502. 
Viraj, 124. 



INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES 1919 

Viramatsya, 178. 

Virochan, 40, 43. 

Virtue, 223, 272. 

Virupaksha, 52, 420, 433, 459, 460, 487. 

Visakhas, 144, 430. 

Visala, 56, 57, 59, 60, 62. 

Vishnu, 1 note, 2, 3, 25, 32, 40, passim. 

Visravas, 35, 309, 408, 515, 516. 

Visvachi, 198. 

Visvajit, 24. 

Visvakarma, 28, 42, 198, 376, 387, 444, 445, 448, 499, 500, 
515,556. 

Visvamitra, 9, 32 ff., 39, 41, 44, 45, passim. 

Visvarupa, 353. 

Visvas, 377. 

Visvavasu, 198. 

Visvedevas, 162. 

Vitardan, 474. 

Vivasvat, 81, 171, 219, 245, 386, 532. 

Vrana, 444. 

Vrihadratha, 82. 

Vrihaspati, 28, 31, 95, 124, 210, 307, 464, 517. 

Vritra, 125, 264, 288, 387, 487, 491, 536. 

Vulture-king, 9. 

War-god, 124,476. 

Wind, 30, 218. 

Wind-god, 10, 36, 42, 68, 325, 326, 379, 392 ff., 417 ff., 449, 
470,478,481,488,502,503. 

Yavadwipa, 372. 

Yajnakopa, 433 note, 459. 

Yajush, 326. 

Yajnasatru, 256 note. 

Yaksha, 236 note, 306, 318, 363, 375, 394, 420, 422, 425, 
431,454,458,468. 



1920 The Ramayana 

Yama, 68, 71, 112, 117, 124, 140, 166, 171, 241, 248, 262, 
275, 287, 313, 343 ff., 432, 437, 449, 472, 475, 496, 518, 554. 
Yamuna, 158, 159, 160, 178, 214, 223, 372. 
Yamun, 372. 
Yavanas, 66, 550. 

Yayati, 82, 95, 107, 119, 163, 186, 307, 344. 
Yudhajit, 84, 88, 180, 190. 
Yupaksha, 420, 472. 
Yuvanasva, 81, 219. 



Footnotes 



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